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rootedinrevisions · 3 months ago

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Enough for You: Part 3

SUMMARY: After he showed up unexpectedly at your door trying to make amends, you and Tyler spend a cozy evening together, starting with making dinner in the kitchen as light banter fills the space. After a fun and easygoing meal, the two of you curl up on the couch to watch TV, enjoying each other's presence and sharing quiet moments. As the night winds down, you ask Tyler to stay the night, feeling comforted by his warmth and company. Tyler, happy to stay, holds you close as you both drift off into a peaceful sleep, deepening the bond that has grown between you.

WARNINGS: Fluff.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2

NOTE: There will be a PART 3! I have it mostly written and just need to finish editing it. Part 2 got away from me so I decided to break it up as to not have one crazy long fic.

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @callsign-diva I @starshinegrl I @willowpains I @beltzboys2015-blog I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891

Later you and Tyler had settled into the comfort of your couch as the world outside seems to fade away. The warmth of his presence next to you, the way his hand rests on your knee, and the steady rhythm of his breathing create a bubble of serenity around you. Time feels like it’s slowing down as you both get lost in the closeness and talk. The tension from the past week melts away as you slowly lean your head on his shoulder. You hadn’t planned to spend the past few hours on the couch with him, but it’s as though neither of you can bear to let go of the other.

It isn’t until the soft grumble of a stomach fills the silence that you both freeze, then exchange an amused look.

"Was that you or me?" Tyler teases with a chuckle, his hand giving your knee a playful squeeze.

You can’t help but laugh, realizing how long you’ve been so engrossed in each other that dinner slipped both your minds. “I guess we kind of forgot to eat,�� you say, grinning up at him.

"Guess it's time to get out of this cocoon and figure out dinner, huh?" Tyler jokes, but neither of you seem quite ready to move.

Tyler glances around your apartment and then nods toward the kitchen. “How about we cook something here? I’m no chef, but I think I can handle pasta this time.”

You raise an eyebrow, the memory of his past cooking adventures making you smirk. “Are you sure you’re up for the challenge? Last time you tried to make pasta, we almost had to call the fire department”

He laughs, shaking his head. You bite back a smile, feeling a sense of ease wash over you as you both drift toward the kitchen, the earlier tension between you replaced with a playful energy. It feels natural—like slipping back into a rhythm you didn’t realize you missed. Together, you start pulling out ingredients, ready to tackle dinner as a team, side by side.

“You’re actually going to follow the recipe this time, right?” you tease, referencing that one infamous night with the team when his attempt at cooking had been… less than successful.

He rolls his eyes dramatically but grins, a mock-serious tone in his voice. “I promise, no improvising tonight. We’re sticking to the directions like my life depends on it.”

You laugh, stepping up beside him as he starts boiling the water. Together, you work on the sauce—chopping garlic, stirring in tomatoes, and adding the perfect amount of seasoning. The kitchen fills with the rich, savory aroma, and the easy banter between you feels as natural as breathing. You catch him stealing glances at you now and then, the soft kind of looks that make your heart skip a beat.

At one point, you’re standing close, both concentrating on the sauce. Tyler hands you a spoon and nods toward the pan. “Go on, taste test. Let’s see if we nailed it.”

You take a bite, humming in approval, but before you can respond, Tyler’s gaze sharpens. His lips twitch into a grin.

“You’ve got a little… right there,” he says, gesturing to your lower lip where some of the sauce must have landed.

Before you can wipe it away, Tyler steps closer, his eyes fixed on yours as his hand reaches up. His thumb brushes gently against your lip, lingering for just a second too long. There’s a charged silence, the air between you suddenly thick with tension.

Then, in one smooth motion, Tyler’s lips hover over yours. Instead of wiping the sauce away, he closes the distance and gently kisses it off, his lips brushing yours in a brief, heated moment. His mouth lingers for a beat, as if considering whether to deepen the kiss, but he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

You feel your heart race as his thumb traces a light line across your lip, and you both let out soft laughs to ease the tension, though neither of you moves far away from each other.

“Well, I’d say that’s pretty good,” Tyler says, his voice low, and the double meaning doesn’t escape you.

After a second, you step back, breaking the tension with a smile. “Let’s see if the rest of the meal lives up to that standard.”

You sit down together at your small dining table, a cozy space that feels perfect for the two of you. The pasta is simple, but delicious, and you both dig in, the conversation flowing effortlessly.

Tyler leans back, twirling his fork in the pasta. “So, be honest… was the sauce better than last time?” he asks with a grin, clearly referring to his past kitchen disasters.

You smirk and tilt your head. “It was way better. This time, I didn’t feel like I was risking my life.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Nope,” you say with a grin, taking another bite. The warmth between you isn’t just from the food—it’s from the way you feel sitting across from him, sharing something simple, yet meaningful.

The conversation meanders from lighthearted memories of the team to more personal things. Tyler shares a little about his week, and you talk about yours. Every now and then, he’ll throw in a joke that makes you laugh, and each time, his smile grows wider, like your laughter is exactly what he needed to hear.

At some point, the meal slows down, and the pauses between words become longer. But the silences aren’t awkward—they’re comfortable, filled with the sound of utensils against plates and the occasional soft smile exchanged between you both.

Tyler leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking.

“This feels good,” he says quietly, almost to himself. His eyes linger on yours, and you know he’s talking about more than just the dinner.

You nod, your heart swelling with a quiet happiness. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “It does.”

With dinner finished and the dishes stacked in the sink, the atmosphere between you and Tyler has settled into something soft and warm, like an easy current pulling you both along. The quiet hum of the street outside your apartment window is a gentle backdrop as you both make your way to the couch, the leftovers tucked away and the weight of the evening hanging in the air like a comfortable blanket.

You grab a couple of throw pillows and settle into your usual corner of the couch, feeling the softness beneath you as Tyler sits next to you, his arm casually resting along the back. His presence feels different tonight—not distant, not guarded—just close. Like the space between you both has finally disappeared, leaving only a warmth that feels entirely new but somehow familiar.

“You know,” Tyler says, leaning back, “this is probably the most relaxed I’ve felt in a while.” He tilts his head toward you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Though that might be the carbs talking.”

You laugh, the sound light and effortless. “I guess a successful meal can do that.”

His eyes twinkle. “I told you I’d follow the recipe this time.”

There’s a pause, the kind where neither of you feels the need to fill it. The quiet hum of your living room lamp and the distant sounds of life beyond your apartment windows make the world feel small, like it's just the two of you in this cozy bubble. You pull your legs up underneath you, feeling the comfort of the moment settle in.

Tyler glances over at the TV remote sitting on the coffee table. “Movie?” he suggests, though there’s an undertone in his voice that says he’s just as content to keep talking, to keep soaking in this rare and quiet space you’ve found together.

“Yeah,” you nod, reaching for the remote. “Something light.”

As you scroll through your options, you feel Tyler shift closer to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. It’s subtle but enough to send a pleasant warmth coursing through you. You glance over and catch him looking at you, his expression soft, almost thoughtful, as though he’s savoring every second of this moment.

“You pick,” he says softly. “I’ll watch whatever you want.”

You smirk and raise an eyebrow. “Even if it’s a rom-com?”

He chuckles, leaning back. “Even if it’s a rom-com. I’m trying to earn brownie points here.”

You laugh, and before long, you settle on a movie—a lighthearted one neither of you has seen before. But as it begins to play, you find that you’re more aware of Tyler’s presence next to you than anything happening on the screen.

His arm eventually slides down from the back of the couch, wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side. The contact is natural, easy, like he’s done it a thousand times before. And maybe, in some alternate version of your life, he has.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows around the room. At some point, your head naturally leans into his shoulder, and his fingers trace light, absentminded circles on your arm. You feel his steady breathing, his heart beating in rhythm with yours.

Tyler’s voice breaks the quiet after a while, soft and almost hesitant. You tilt your head slightly to look up at him. “I’m really glad I came tonight.”

His words are simple, but the weight of them lingers. You feel a swell of warmth in your chest, and you nod, a smile spreading across your face.

“Me too.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. It’s tender, full of unspoken promises that neither of you are rushing to put into words just yet.

The movie drones on in the background, but for the rest of the night, the only thing that matters is the quiet, cozy space the two of you have built together—one that feels like it’s always been waiting for this moment.

As the credits roll on the movie, the soft hum of the television is the only sound in the room. You glance over at Tyler, who’s been quiet for the last few minutes, his arm still wrapped comfortably around you. The warmth of his body feels like an anchor, keeping you grounded in this perfect, simple moment.

Tyler shifts slightly, and with a gentle touch, he reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there for a moment longer than necessary, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to disturb the peace you’ve found together.

You smile, a soft, genuine smile, and nod. “Yeah,” you whisper back, the word carrying more meaning than its simplicity suggests. Everything feels right in this moment—more right than anything has in a long time.

Tyler’s eyes flicker with something deeper as he leans in, brushing his lips gently against yours. The kiss is slow, tender, as if he’s savoring it, committing every second to memory. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he asks again, quieter this time, “You sure?”

You look up into his eyes, feeling a rush of emotion well up inside you. You could pretend to be calm, but the truth is, this moment feels like a turning point, like everything you’ve been waiting for is finally within reach. “I don’t want you to leave,” you confess, your voice soft but filled with vulnerability. The words hang in the air, delicate and full of meaning.

Tyler pauses for a beat, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His gaze holds yours, as though he’s searching for any hint of uncertainty. “I can stay,” he says, his voice low and careful, “if you want me to.”

You feel your chest tighten at the tenderness in his words, and you nod, your heart racing. “I want you to stay,” you murmur, the vulnerability in your voice now mirrored by the warmth in his eyes.

You smile, and without saying anything more, you take his hand, leading him down the short hallway to your bedroom. Once inside, the atmosphere shifts slightly—more intimate, more real. You reach for a pair of soft pajamas while Tyler tugs off his shirt, the sound of fabric falling to the floor barely registering as you change. When you turn around, you find him standing there, stripped down to his boxers, watching you with that same look in his eyes—like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You both climb into bed, the sheets cool and inviting. Tyler lies back, his arm automatically reaching out for you, an open invitation. Without hesitation, you curl up into his side, your head resting on his chest as his arm wraps around you, holding you close. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a calming rhythm that makes you feel completely safe.

For a few moments, the two of you just lie there, the silence between you filled with the kind of comfort that doesn’t need words. But eventually, Tyler’s fingers start tracing lazy patterns on your back, and his voice breaks the quiet.

“This feels good,” he says softly, his breath warm against the top of your head.

You nod, your eyes half-closed, the weight of the day finally catching up with you. “It does,” you agree, your voice thick with sleep.

There’s a brief pause before Tyler speaks again, quieter this time. “I’ve missed you.” His fingers continue their gentle path along your back, his voice carrying the weight of everything unspoken between you.

You tilt your head slightly, just enough to look up at him. His expression is soft, and in the dim light of the room, you can see the tenderness in his eyes. “I’ve missed you too,” you admit, the words coming out in a sleepy murmur as you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Tyler’s hand stills on your back, and you feel him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the warmth of his lips lingering against your skin. “Get some sleep,” he whispers, his voice barely audible now. “I’ll be right here.”

And with that, you let the last of your worries fade away. You’re safe, comfortable, wrapped up in Tyler’s arms. The world outside can wait—right now, all that matters is this moment, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and the warmth of his body next to yours.

Tyler stays awake for a few minutes longer, watching as your breathing evens out and your body relaxes against his. A small smile tugs at his lips as he presses another kiss to your forehead, his heart full. “Sweet dreams, beautiful,” he whispers, though he knows you’ve already fallen asleep. He closes his eyes then, pulling you even closer as he finally allows himself to drift off too, knowing that when morning comes, you’ll still be right there, next to him.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Angst

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elizabebabe · 5 months ago

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𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐨 ও 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: y/n is unsure of what to do for chris's birthday but he suggests a home cooked meal.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, kissing, not proofread.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 800

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: happy birthday chris <3, embarrassingly enough i have 'fantasized' about feeding him a home cooked meal but specifically his favorite meal, alfredo...something short while i continue to work on love island.

your boyfriend of two year’s birthday is today and you spent the whole day thinking of what to do. last year felt so lackluster as you only went out to dinner and dessert…

you had planned a surprise party but the day before canceled after he shared his wishes of “a chill day with you.”, you learned your lesson after that, asking him more incognito questions about what’d he’d want to do for his twenty-first.

“chill day.” you mock, your face twists into a pout.

“it’s true.” he yawned, the light of his phone illuminated his tired eyes as you both were sprawled out on his bed.

“you don’t want to go clubbing?” i giggle , which is rewarded with a head shake.

“what if you made me dinner?” he questioned, your fingers stopped doodling on his arm that dawned your neck.

“we had dinner last year.” you lift your head up allowing you to get a better look at his face you couldn’t though once you noticed his brown locks rested where you were looking.

“but you didn’t make it.” he paused as you moved his soft hair around his face.

“your alfredo pasta is soo good.” he continued once your hands rested back to your sides, you thought he was exaggerating when you made it last time since it was only a quick recipe you found online.

“that’s all you want?” you ask.

“well…” his eyes linger on yours resulting in a playful and painless punch to his arm.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you clicked a remote which lit your apartment’s faux fireplace giving your living room and open kitchen more of a cozy vibe, you adorned your dining table with plating and candles, the birthday gifts you secretly got chris laid by your couch and a few balloons perked near the front door, your final touch was a bouquet set with the blooms of august.

you tied your apron around your waist knowing your boyfriend would arrive in 20 minutes or so, just enough time to make the pasta.

while the butter melted in the pan you made sure everything looked perfect, you even bought a bottle of wine if he wanted to give it a try, you planned this night to a ‘t’, prepared for every possible occasion well except one thing, a cake, you pushed the over thought idea out of your brain a new thought replacing it, you assumed he's had enough cake after hanging out with his family today.

heavy cream and seasonings added it was about time to shred the cheese, your head bob from your different cabinets grabbing your grater and a block of parmesan cheese from the fridge.

the cheese was melting into the perfect sauce and the pasta was almost done boiling, in the meanwhile you finely chopped a bit of parsley for garnish.

‘beep’, ‘beep’

your intercom went off, you didn’t know why you were so nervous, maybe because the success of his birthday dinner weighed on your shoulders instead of a random chef, he already boasted to you about his morning with his brothers, lunch with his family, you didn’t want to mess up the final stretch to a good day.

you pressed the button on your console before returning to the stove, mixing the pasta with the sauce waiting before plating.

‘knock’, ‘knock’, ‘knock’, ‘knock’

the knocks you heard were rapid which echoed through your apartment, raising your heartbeat to an extreme amount before quickly settling once you thought of who was at the door, your boyfriend chris.

you opened the door to see his cheesy smile, he wasted no time picking you up, dragging you to the hall the delicious fumes now clouding this space instead of your own, he twirled you in the hall.

“put me down!” you snickered, his giggles only making you laugh harder.

he eventually complied, sniffing the air around him a huge grin plastered on his face.

“i missed you, haven’t– seen you all day.” he cooed, finishing his sentence between deep breaths and giving you a tight squeeze at the waist, having your bodies flooding together.

“i missed you too, ready to eat?” you smiled.

“more than ready.” his lips hovered over your own for a while, coasting before connecting, they were imperfect kisses, sloppy but not rushed, he must’ve really missed you.

a soft grunt slipped past his plump and plush lips as you deepened the kiss, your hand finding its way to his neck, massaging the area.

you patted his neck before pulling away, “we can’t stay out here.” you shivered at the idea of someone else walking in the hall and witnessing the makeout.

he smirked deviously which made a heat warm your cheeks, belly and ….

“cmon.” you cupped his jaw which pouted his soft lips before grabbing his palm and dragging him inside, not knowing why you even worried in the first place.

thank you for reading, mwah.

tag list: @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @sigmatoiletrizz @i-love-ptv @mattsturnshleuttt @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110

#zabe's finest pieces 👚#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #zabebabe

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disastermages · 1 year ago

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All The Best, All for You

[read it on ao3]

Xie Lian can’t help but shift from side to side in his seat, eyes scanning the room round and round hoping to see Hua Cheng rounding some corner or gliding out of some doorway, cool and collected as ever. He’d personally shown Xie Lian to this private table, his hand at the small of Xie Lian’s back as he ushered him through the busy and crowded restaurant. Xie Lian hadn’t felt out of place until Hua Cheng had left his side.

Heads had turned to watch him walk with Hua Cheng, the expressions gobsmacked and the eyes wide. Xie Lian hadn’t noticed because he’d been focused on what Hua Cheng was telling him, his voice deep and quiet and only for Xie Lian’s ears, but now, Xie Lian can hear the soft whispers of the patrons, some of them murmuring over their own extravagant meals, others wondering who he was to deserve such treatment from their Chengzhu.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng’s voice rings out, clear and indulgent, as he reappears from some hidden doorway. Anyone else would’ve buckled under the weight of the tray, but Hua Cheng carries it with one hand, refusing to let it wobble even once before he sets it down in front of Xie Lian. Dozens of small bowls and plates steam in front of him, their smells wrapping around Xie Lian like a lover’s hands as he marvels at each and every one of them. It doesn’t seem possible, Hua Cheng hadn’t been gone that long. “All my best recipes, just for you.”

Hua Cheng had cooked for Xie Lian before, but never here, never so many dishes at once, Xie Lian doesn’t know where to start. Instead, he looks up at Hua Cheng. “San Lang! Did you really make all of this yourself? I thought you weren’t in the kitchen today.” The dark red chef’s coat was nowhere to be seen, leaving Hua Cheng sitting across from Xie Lian in a dark suit with silver accents that couldn’t even be dulled by the low lighting of the private section, long legs crossed and his hand propping his chin up.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting anyone else cook for gege.” Hua Cheng says simply, plucking up a pair of chopsticks, but holding them out to Xie Lian. Their fingers brush as Xie Lian takes the chopsticks and Xie Lian can’t make himself pull back right away, not when he catches the way Hua Cheng is watching him, with a kind of smile that makes him feel as if he’s burning up from the inside out.

Xie Lian can only look away when he remembers the food going cold in front of him. “Aren’t you going to eat too?” Hua Cheng had made no move to pick up a pair of chopsticks nor a spoon for himself. Looking over the food, Xie Lian can pick out simple dishes made extravagant along with extravagant dishes dragged up to the heavens by Hua Cheng’s own hands. With Hua Cheng’s eye still watching him, Xie Lian picks out something Hua Cheng has pressed into his hands before, in his own kitchen, his voice urging Xie Lian to eat.

Now, as Hua Cheng shakes his head, his smile still in place, is no different, “Everything here is for gege, no one else. Eat as much as you like.” Xie Lian almost argues, but the growling of his stomach stops him. There’d been a time when his stomach had given up on growling, sullen in the knowledge that there wouldn’t be anything to fill it until Xie Lian either worked for it or found it on his own, but Hua Cheng has spoiled him rotten. Before that, Xie Lian could’ve had anything he craved, wanting for nothing. Nothing from Xie Lian’s memory tastes nearly as good as Hua Cheng’s cooking, though. His chopsticks scrape the bottom of the bowl before Xie Lian realizes he’s finished, heat creeping across his face.

Gently, Hua Cheng reaches over and plucks the bowl from Xie Lian’s grip with one hand, replacing it with something else with the other. Xie Lian dips his head just a little as he accepts the plate, eggplant fried to perfection singing across his tongue. “Is San Lang still having trouble finding a sous chef?” Xie Lian asks, remembering how he’d snuck into the alleyway behind the restaurant the other day on the off chance that he might find Hua Cheng. He had, but he hadn’t missed the murderous look in Hua Cheng’s eye before it landed on him and dissipated completely. Hua Cheng had insisted on folding his coat to make a cushion for the milk crate he offered to Xie Lian as a seat.

They’d sat like that for as long as they could, their knees touching, until Hua Cheng truly couldn’t avoid going back into the kitchen. Xie Lian had taken his leave before Hua Cheng could push food into his arms.

“Is gege finally taking me up on the offer to come work here?” Hua Cheng raises a single eyebrow, his fingertips drumming against the table and Xie Lian doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Working for Hua Cheng would pay more than odd jobs, scrap collecting, or dumpster diving combined, that much is certain, but Xie Lian still shakes his head.

“I’d drive away all your guests!” It’s an old argument, but a true one. Xie Lian cooks just like his mother did, the only one who could stomach it is Hua Cheng. “I wouldn’t get much done, either…” It’s another fact. He would try his best, but he would let himself get distracted by Hua Cheng too easily. It doesn’t matter how much Xie Lian would enjoy working with Hua Cheng, he would only make messes.

Hua Cheng spares one disdainful glance behind himself into the main dining room before turning his attention back to Xie Lian. “I would have gege here even if all he did was sit where he is now and smile at me when I walk by.” This time, as his plate empties, Xie Lian is the one who stacks it underneath the bowl from earlier, heaving a sigh in the face of Hua Cheng’s grin.

“Then you wouldn’t get anything done!” Xie Lian wishes he could pretend to be more frustrated with Hua Cheng, but as it stands, he’s more flustered than anything else. With nothing else in his grasp, Xie Lian bites the edge off of a dumpling and lets the soup flood his mouth before he blows into the hole. He scalds his mouth, but it’s worth it, and only gets better as Hua Cheng offers a smaller dish of chili oil, keeping it held in his palm rather than handing it over.

Chewing, Xie Lian watches as Hua Cheng twists the dish of chili oil back and forth in his grasp, the smile fading a little while he works something in his mind.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng starts, but a crash from the main dining room and shouts from the kitchen stop him short, the both of them standing up. “Stay here and finish, go to my office when you’re done.” The order isn’t unkind, but Xie Lian can’t even begin to argue before Hua Cheng stands up and walks away, pulling at the tie against his throat. For a moment, all Xie Lian can do is stand and watch, unable to even sit as Hua Cheng doesn’t waver on which direction to go for even a second.

Without Hua Cheng in front of him, Xie Lian’s cheeks are free to burn as bright and as red as they wish. He makes a point of savoring each bite, even if Hua Cheng isn’t here to watch him enjoy the food, no matter how unfair it feels.

Xie Lian wants to shake himself at the thought. Just how spoiled has he really become? Hua Cheng must have better things to do than sit around chatting with him. He doesn’t even realize he’s failed to pick up anything with his chopsticks until his teeth sink into them and nothing else. If Hua Cheng had seen that, he would’ve laughed, Xie Lian knows that much without having to think about it.

Hua Cheng hadn’t managed to reappear by the time Xie Lian had finished, though Xie Lian hadn’t expected him to, he still makes his way through the kitchen to Hua Cheng’s office, waving to the familiar faces of the kitchen staff as he walks through. He only stops when he catches sight of Hua Cheng, his back turned to Xie Lian, but his movements sure, even as flames lick at the bottom of the pan as he tosses the contents of it. He says something and the cook next to him goes running in the opposite direction before coming back with a collection of different things held in their arms. If he weren’t in the way, Xie Lian could stand there and watch Hua Cheng all night, never looking away, but Hua Cheng’s staff was already dodging and weaving around him.

Xie Lian forces himself to move into Hua Cheng’s office, out of the way and tucked onto the soft, black couch. Occasionally, he would find Yin Yu in here, on some errand for Hua Cheng or tying up some loose end for the restaurant, but tonight, Xie Lian is left alone and Hua Cheng’s office is too warm and smells too much like Hua Cheng. Something fluttery and even warmer rises up in Xie Lian as he settles against the couch, his hands between his knees.

Eventually the dinner rush would have to end, it always did, and whether or not Hua Cheng made his way back here depended on how much needed taking care of, in the kitchen, out front, Hua Cheng did it all himself and an arrow of guilt wedges itself into Xie Lian’s heart as he stifles a yawn. He should have come up with some sort of excuse to stop intruding on Hua Cheng after he ate, he shouldn’t have even accepted Hua Cheng’s offer to come to the restaurant today. He just… He wanted to see Hua Cheng so badly. He wanted to hear Hua Cheng’s voice, even if that voice was laughing at him. Even if that voice was scolding him.

Gathering himself up onto the couch, Xie Lian lets his cheek rest against the back of it, the soft upholstery absorbing the warmth from one cheek. His arms are tight around his legs, his blunt nails digging into his own knees. It doesn’t feel fair how much time he gets to spend with Hua Cheng, how often he gets to come visit him. Hua Cheng never seems sick of him, either. Xie Lian doesn’t claim to understand it, heat gathering behind his eyes as he squeezes them shut.

Hua Cheng was the first person he thought of whenever anything good happened. He was always the first person Xie Lian texted or called whenever he found a treasure among the scraps, whenever some little thing made him happy. Hua Cheng never responded with the canned indulgence everyone else seemed to hold for him. Hua Cheng laughed or teased him, but he was always so devastatingly sincere.

Blinking slowly, Xie Lian doesn’t realize he’s falling asleep until sometime later, when Hua Cheng’s cool hand on his cheek stirs him from his rest, Hua Cheng’s suit jacket already draped over his front.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian calls softly, his voice slurred by sleep, the whole of him feeling too soft to move.

“This San Lang kept gege waiting too long,” Hua Cheng says, an apology in his tone and worry in his eye as he kneels in front of the couch, in front of Xie Lian. Careful not to step on Hua Cheng, Xie Lian puts his feet down slowly, only for Hua Cheng to place both hands on his knees. He should, but Xie Lian can’t bring himself to brush Hua Cheng’s hands away. He can’t even bring himself to return Hua Cheng’s suit jacket, hugging it closer to his chest instead. “What were you dreaming about?”

Hua Cheng had been brushing something from Xie Lian’s cheek when Xie Lian had woken up, and now Hua Cheng was on one knee in front of Xie Lian as if he’d been the one who did something wrong. Sitting up straight, Xie Lian lifts one hand to his own cheek, finding only remnants of something wet and catching sight of a bigger, darker blotch on the back of the couch.

“I was just thinking how lucky I am to have San Lang.” Xie Lian says, trying his best to smile. It isn’t a lie, he is lucky to have Hua Cheng in his life. He’s lucky to have Hua Cheng’s eye solely focused on him as often as it is.

“I’m the one who’s lucky to have gege.” Hua Cheng answers with a shake of his head, both hands lifting Xie Lian’s foot onto his leg before pulling the knots of his shoe laces loose and pulling the shoe off altogether. He does the same for the other one before standing up, his hand reaching for Xie Lian’s cheek again. Xie Lian doesn’t dare back away from that hand, leaning into it like a cat deprived of affection. “If gege is tired, he should sleep, this San Lang will wait for him to wake up.”

The words make Xie Lian’s chest feel as if it's caving in, his tongue suddenly feeling clumsy and numb as Hua Cheng starts to stand. Where words fail him, Xie Lian lets himself reach out and grab onto Hua Cheng’s wrist to keep him from going any further. “Gege?” Hua Cheng looks at Xie Lian when he holds onto him, but says nothing. Xie Lian half expects his fingers to peeled off one by one when Hua Cheng reaches for his wrist, but instead, those cool fingers curl around him in reply.

“San Lang, could you sit with me? Just for a little while?” Xie Lian asks carefully, peering up at Hua Cheng but looking away just as quickly. He’s already taken up so much of Hua Cheng’s time, there are things he needs to do, Xie Lian is sure of it. He doesn’t expect Hua Cheng to sit down next to him so easily, their knees brushing again.

It all feels too easy. The way he touches Hua Cheng, the way Hua Cheng touches him, even the warmth that builds so quickly between them no matter how cold Hua Cheng’s hands feel when Xie Lian holds onto them to warm them up. Carefully, Xie Lian surrenders his grip on Hua Cheng’s wrist, all for the sake of pressing his hand against Hua Cheng’s cheek, just like Hua Cheng had done for him, but something holds him back, something that threatens to choke him, a lump building up in his throat.

The next time Xie Lian dares to sneak a glance at Hua Cheng, the only thing he finds is amusement, rather than irritation or confusion, the corners of Hua Cheng’s mouth tipping upwards. The suit jacket puddles around Xie Lian’s lap now, even as Xie Lian pulls his knees underneath himself and turns towards Hua Cheng, embarrassment already burning underneath his skin. “What would it take for San Lang to be angry with me?” Xie Lian asks the question carefully, idly playing with Hua Cheng’s fingers, hoping against everything that Hua Cheng might stop him just so he’ll know where they stand.

Hua Cheng is the one who laces their fingers together, splaying his fingers wide and making Xie Lian’s do the same for his own amusement, humming while he thinks. “Gege already knows the answer to his question.” Hua Cheng answers thoughtfully, loosening his grip on Xie Lian’s wrist to reach for his other hand, though he only holds it, nothing else.

“Then San Lang wouldn’t be angry with me if I did something to him right now?” Xie Lian asks carefully.

“I trust gege.” Hua Cheng answers, his eye molten soft when he looks at Xie Lian, his thumb stroking over his knuckles exactly one time. Nodding his head, Xie Lian swallows thickly before licking his lips. Hua Cheng trusts him. Hua Cheng trusts him and what Xie Lian is about to do will either break that trust completely or… Xie Lian doesn’t have an answer.

Before he can stop himself, Xie Lian leans in and brushes his lips against the center of Hua Cheng’s mouth as softly as he dares before pressing himself to the corner of the couch, watching for his reaction. For a long, long moment, Hua Cheng’s hands still. He doesn’t release Xie Lian from his grasp, his grip doesn’t even slacken.

“San Lang, I-”

Whatever excuse he’d had to offer for his behavior dies in the meeting of their lips. Hua Cheng had pulled him back in by their hands and now both of their hands are crushed between their bodies while Hua Cheng kisses him, hungry but trying hard not to push too far. Xie Lian can’t stop himself from moaning into Hua Cheng’s mouth, his hands twisting away from Hua Cheng’s fingers just to press against Hua Cheng’s chest, searching for and finding his heartbeat. He hadn’t known what he expected, but he hadn’t expected to feel Hua Cheng’s heart hammering against his ribcage, as if it were trying to break through the bones keeping it contained. With nothing to hold their attention, Hua Cheng’s hands find places at the back of Xie Lian’s head and at the small of his back respectively, keeping him crushed as close as they both need to be more than they need air in their lungs.

Only when his lungs start to ache does Xie Lian begin to pull away from Hua Cheng, refusing to go far when he does pull back, his hands sliding up to Hua Cheng’s shoulders. He doesn’t stop Hua Cheng from littering his face and neck with a thousand smaller kisses, nor does he stop himself from sighing softly. “I thought… I thought you would’ve been upset with me.” Xie Lian says it quietly, as if it could pass between them as a secret. He doesn’t expect to be pulled tighter against Hua Cheng’s chest before he’s laid down on the couch, his legs spread to make room for Hua Cheng to kneel between them.

Hua Cheng’s hair falls over one shoulder, tickling Xie Lian’s nose before Hua Cheng has a chance to shake it out of the way, the look in his eye serious enough to make Xie Lian shiver. “Are you sure you want this, gege?” The softness of Hua Cheng’s voice breaks Xie Lian’s heart in two. Hua Cheng’s fingertips brush against a gap of skin left exposed between Xie Lian’s shirt and jeans, sliding further and further under his shirt until only Hua Cheng’s thumbs brush against the fabric.

Xie Lian’s skin catches fire under Hua Cheng’s touch, making him gasp softly as his body innately seeks out more of that feeling. “I want this, San Lang. I want you.” He’d tried to be unselfish, he’d tried to share, he’d tried so hard to not keep Hua Cheng for himself, but Xie Lian can’t make himself do it anymore, even as he covers his own face. He can’t look at Hua Cheng and say all of this.

“I’m sorry, San Lang, I really thought I could just be your friend,” Xie Lian babbles, hiding behind his own hands even when Hua Cheng starts to pull at his wrists, his grip gentle but firm. “I shouldn’t want to keep you all to myself, but I do.” Distantly, Xie Lian registers Hua Cheng calling him, calling him gege first, and then resorting to his name when that fails, until his voice trails off and Xie Lian feels Hua Cheng leaning forward, pinning Xie Lian to the couch with his weight before he kisses him again, still holding onto his wrists as he sweeps his tongue over Xie Lian’s lips.

“Look at me, gege, look at me and see how much your San Lang wants you too.” There’s a raggedness to Hua Cheng’s voice that Xie Lian hasn’t heard before. He peeks through the cracks of his fingers to start with, but lowers them slowly, until Hua Cheng can trap them against Xie Lian’s own collarbones. Hua Cheng switches both wrists to one hand with ease, brushing Xie Lian’s bangs away from his face and then letting himself caress his cheek, thumb stroking back and forth underneath Xie Lian’s eye. Xie Lian doesn’t even notice when Hua Cheng releases his wrists entirely, trusting that they’d say right where he left them laying.

Hua Cheng’s name is on Xie Lian’s lips, but whether or not sound follows after it, Xie Lian doesn’t know. “Gege is all I’ve ever wanted.” Hua Cheng sighs reverently, rolling his hips and making Xie Lian gasp, even through the layers of Xie Lian’s jeans and Hua Cheng’s pants. Something soft, something almost like a grunt pushes itself out of Xie Lian’s throat when Hua Cheng does that, and does it again again when Hua Cheng slides his hand further up Xie Lian’s shirt. His thumb rubbing against Xie Lian’s nipple, stroking back and forth over.

More and more of those little noises from before rise up like smoke in Xie Lian’s lungs and he tries so hard to bite them back, turning his head to the side just to muffle one of them against the couch. That kind of escape only lasts for a moment, though, before Hua Cheng decides that he won’t allow it. He’d kept his hand on Xie Lian’s cheek just for this purpose, Xie Lian is almost sure of it.

“San Lang!” Xie Lian starts, but the tone of his own voice makes him stop, embarrassment blooming anew in his chest. It sounded more like a whine than an actual protest. It sounded pitiful and Xie Lian doesn’t even get the chance to dwell on it because Hua Cheng is pressing his thumb against the swell of his bottom lip, the heat of his gaze keeping Xie Lian pinned down against the couch.

“I don’t like it when gege hides from me, I like it best when I can see him just like this.” Hua Cheng looms closer, his voice going deep and dark enough to make Xie Lian shiver, only to drive away the cold in the same breath as he kisses Xie Lian again, his tongue slipping into Xie Lian’s mouth without invitation or resistance. It takes a moment too long for Xie Lian to catch up, his brain freezing as Hua Cheng’s tongue strokes up alongside his own, twisting and making Xie Lian moan. There was no hope of catching himself right then, Xie Lian couldn’t even try.

The grinding of Hua Cheng’s hips is constant and maddening, making Xie Lian gasp for breath as he feels something hard and thick rutting against him. He’s not much better, he’s already straining at the front of his jeans, aching for Hua Cheng in ways that he’s never let himself give in to, no matter how much relief it would’ve given him. “Is gege hard?” Hua Cheng asks and Xie Lian wishes he could hide again, but there’s no hope for it. Hua Cheng is too close and Xie Lian is too far gone, too tightly wrapped around Hua Cheng’s finger. “Does gege want me to touch him?”

There was power in Hua Cheng’s hands, immense strength that Xie Lian himself has seen before, only to feel those same hands press against him with impossible gentility seconds later. He wants those hands on him now so badly it makes his muscles ache and burn.

“Don’t-” Xie Lian starts, only for Hua Cheng to pinch his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it cruelly while dragging his tongue over Xie Lian’s lower lip. “Don’t tease me, San Lang, please. I can’t take it, I haven’t done this before.” Desperation has made him too honest, but Xie Lian can’t stop himself. His legs try to snap shut, only to be kept open by Hua Cheng’s body.

The next time Xie Lian looks up, Hua Cheng is watching him, something dark and possessive overtaking his eye, both of his hands moving to hold Xie Lian by the waist, thumbs pressing hard into the soft skin of his belly. The next round of kisses land against his cheeks, each of them lingering and gentle until they begin to trail down his neck, dripping heavily like sweat on a too hot day. Those hard kisses give way to teeth, sharp enough to make Xie Lian jolt and cry out as Hua Cheng bites him. Skilled but impatient hands yank the button of his jeans and drag down the zipper, parting the fabric before those same hands catch the waistband.

Xie Lian’s jeans are pushed down to his knees, the denim catching and tangling around his legs as Hua Cheng wraps his hand around Xie Lian’s cock, his teeth moving onto a new, unblemished part of Xie Lian’s neck. Xie Lian’s fingers twist and pull at the back of Hua Cheng’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric hopelessly.

He hears himself calling Hua Cheng’s name, he hears himself being too loud, but he can’t stop himself. He can’t even stop himself from coming too soon, the worst of it dripping down Hua Cheng’s fist and onto the pants of his suit as he sits back to look at Xie Lian. Mortification sets in faster than anything, making Xie Lian scramble to sit up and grab for Hua Cheng’s wrist, stopping the come from dripping onto his pants. Xie Lian knows he’s ruined them, but Hua Cheng doesn’t even look angry.

“I… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, San Lang.” He’s still holding onto Hua Cheng’s wrist as he looks for something to wipe his mess up with, his head still feeling fuzzy. He purposefully hadn’t let himself sit in whatever amazing feelings Hua Cheng had just set into his skin, it felt too nice after what he just did.

When Xie Lian comes up empty, guilt building and building in his throat as he turns to face Hua Cheng, only to catch him licking at a thick line of come that was threatening to drip into the cuff of his shirt. Mischief sparkles in Hua Cheng’s eye as he grins at Xie Lian before he turns his head to clean off the rest of the come. “Gege tastes so sweet, I couldn’t help myself.”

Xie Lian isn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry as Hua Cheng leans in and kisses him again, his clean hand catching Xie Lian by the throat to keep him from pulling away. Xie Lian feels his cock twitch with interest, but tries hard to push it down. “I ruined your suit, San Lang, aren’t you upset?” Earlier, he’d been scrabbling at Hua Cheng’s back, needing something to hold onto as he was dragged over the edge by someone else for the first time, but now, his hands twitch nervously, catching Hua Cheng’s collar and pretending to fix it while Hua Cheng’s lips brush against his forehead. “San Lang didn’t even get to come.” Xie Lian scolds himself, eyeing the still hard shape of Hua Cheng’s cock through his ruined pants.

“Gege doesn’t have to worry about that.” Hua Cheng says, tipping Xie Lian’s face up with his forefinger, a smile making Hua Cheng’s delicate features look even softer, “If one suit gets ruined, I have a hundred more. Ruin as many as you like.” Xie Lian has seen the expanse of Hua Cheng’s wardrobe, all the different suits for different occasions, but that still didn’t make it right. Xie Lian can’t even afford to try and get it cleaned for him.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian says suddenly, trying hard not to talk himself out of it before he’s even started, “do you think you could stand up?” Xie Lian explains nothing and Hua Cheng raises an eyebrow, but stands without argument, looming over Xie Lian as he stands just long enough to step out of his jeans and drop down to his knees in front of him. He couldn’t pay to replace or clean Hua Cheng’s suit, so that’s something he’ll have to live with, but Xie Lian can solve one problem for Hua Cheng just like this. “I haven’t done this before either, so I hope San Lang can be patient with me.”

If the things hecklers used to yell at him when he used to swallow swords were true, Xie Lian should be good at this, shouldn’t he?

Carefully, Xie Lian palms Hua Cheng through his pants, his thumb rolling over the head of his cock before he leans in, licking his lips, only to be stopped by Hua Cheng’s hand on his shoulder, thumb pressing hard into the place where Xie Lian’s neck and shoulder met.

“Gege, don’t do this because you feel like you have to make something up to me, please.” Hua Cheng begs quietly, his eye and voice turning desperate as he looks down at Xie Lian. His hand squeezes Xie Lian’s shoulder tight, but not painfully so. All Xie Lian can do is smile and shake his head before he turns his face to rest his forehead against Hua Cheng’s inner wrist.

“I’m not.” Xie Lian answers honestly, with a smile still on his face even as heat creeps up his neck, “I’ve thought about doing this with San Lang for some time now, I just didn’t know if he would want it too.” Xie Lian works hard not to look up at Hua Cheng as he says it, leaning in all over again but refusing to be stopped by Hua Cheng’s hand at his shoulder.

He makes a show of licking his own come off of Hua Cheng’s pants, his nose scrunching up when he finds he doesn’t taste anywhere as sweet as Hua Cheng led him to believe. “Gege,” Hua Cheng calls, his voice sounding different from how Xie Lian has ever heard it before as he licks and licks until the traces of him are gone.

Only after that does Xie Lian even begin struggling with Hua Cheng’s button and zipper, his fingers clumsy and unpracticed in the echoes of Hua Cheng’s skill and urgency. “San Lang is so big.” Xie Lian murmurs, more to himself once he’s finally managed to pull Hua Cheng free. Experimentally, Xie Lian lets himself lick the pearling precome off the tip of Hua Cheng’s cock, feeling Hua Cheng twitch against the tip of his tongue before he hears a muffled sound make it past Hua Cheng’s lips.

He catches Hua Cheng with his hand over his mouth when he glances up, but Xie Lian won’t be cruel, he’ll let his Hua Cheng keep his hand there if he likes, even as he picks a vein and follows the length of it with his tongue. When he reaches the base of Hua Cheng’s cock, he picks another, following it backwards, to Hua Cheng’s cockhead. Another muffled sound comes from above him and Hua Cheng looks as if he’s ready to cry, his eye locked onto Xie Lian. That’s what makes Xie Lian finally give up his teasing, taking the head into his mouth and sucking hard. His eyes flutter shut and Xie Lian takes more of Hua Cheng into his mouth, minding his teeth as he stands up on his knees, both his hands pressing against Hua Cheng’s exposed thighs. Xie Lian’s own cock is hard again, tipping backwards against his stomach, but Xie Lian pays himself no mind and presses his tongue hard against the underside of Hua Cheng’s cock. His lack of a gag reflex makes it easier and easier for him to take more and more of Hua Cheng into his mouth.

He should take the rest of Hua Cheng into his throat now, he should swallow around him and make Hua Cheng moan just for him, but instead, Xie Lian pulls back, saliva dripping off the length of Hua Cheng’s cock and clinging to his lips like gloss. The whine Hua Cheng lets out is high and desperate, but Xie Lian only smiles up at him. His hands leave Hua Cheng’s thighs to wrap around his cock, one at the base, and one stroking from length to head.

Xie Lian knows it’s no comparison to the heat of his mouth, but that’s why he offers no warning before he leans in even closer and drags the broad flat of his tongue over one side of Hua Cheng’s balls. He can feel Hua Cheng throbbing and twitching in his hands as he turns his attention to the other side, sucking just to see what might happen before Xie Lian pulls away entirely. He hadn’t expected to make Hua Cheng lurch forward, but he doesn’t regret it. How could he? Hua Cheng finally pulled his hand away from his mouth just to catch himself by the edge of his desk because of it. Xie Lian presses his smile against the curve of Hua Cheng’s cock to show his appreciation.

“Gege, have some mercy for this San Lang, won’t you?” Hua Cheng gasps, his voice sounding rough and ragged, as if Xie Lian himself had ripped him to shreds.The only mercy Xie Lian grants is pressing a kiss to Hua Cheng’s belly before going back to work. His tongue works round and round the head of Hua Cheng’s cock as if Hua Cheng were made of candy, lapping up every last drop of precome before it can form that perfect pearl from before.

“San Lang likes to bully others, but can’t take it when someone bullies him right back.” Xie Lian lets his lips move against Hua Cheng’s length as he speaks between kitten licks, “He even begs for mercy from his gege.” In the middle of his lecture, Xie Lian takes half of Hua Cheng into his mouth in one go, his fingers creeping up and down the backsides of Hua Cheng’s thighs before pulling away again. “What kind of lesson would I be teaching San Lang if I spoiled him and let him do whatever he wanted?”

Hua Cheng whines again, but that whine turns into something much, much louder as Xie Lian takes him all the way to the back of his throat without preamble or warm up. There’s no gagging or coughing, only Xie Lian’s throat swallowing hard around Hua Cheng’s cock. The hand at his shoulder tightens its grip, nails digging into Xie Lian’s skin before that hand leaves entirely, flying to the back of Xie Lian’s head to keep him where he is as Hua Cheng comes, hips and cock jerking as he fills Xie Lian’s throat. Xie Lian struggles to keep up, listening to Hua Cheng’s breathing turn hard and breathless, redness gathering under that pale skin.

Xie Lian keeps himself in place, swallowing down every last drop until nothing more comes and he feels Hua Cheng start to soften in his mouth, his fingers going limp in Xie Lian’s hair. When Xie Lian finally lets himself stand, he pulls Hua Cheng against himself, cradling him in his arms and leading him back to the couch. He doesn’t settle himself into Hua Cheng’s lap, no matter how badly he wants to, but he does let himself flutter kisses against the side of Hua Cheng’s face, his hand pressed against Hua Cheng’s heart once more. “San Lang did so well.” Xie Lian praises, letting himself be pulled when Hua Cheng decides to hold him in his lap, the look in his eye still hazy and listless, but trying hard to focus on Xie Lian’s face. From his new vantage point, Xie Lian can fix kisses to Hua Cheng’s entire face, both of his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his chin, all of it. Xie Lian gets to kiss all of Hua Cheng and Hua Cheng just lets him.

“Did gege have fun?” Hua Cheng asks, voice sounding thick with something. Both of Hua Cheng’s arms lock tight around Xie Lian’s waist, as if Hua Cheng worried about Xie Lian making even a single move to leave him.

Working his fingers through Hua Cheng’s hair, Xie Lian smiles sheepishly down at him, “I did.” He should be more embarrassed, behaving the way he did, but the smile on Hua Cheng’s face dissipates anything like embarrassment or guilt before it can take root in Xie Lian’s chest. Without anything else to do, Xie Lian doesn’t stop himself from unbuttoning and rebuttoning Hua Cheng’s shirt, never going further than the top three.

“I hope gege doesn’t think he’s done, I still plan on taking him home with me tonight.” Xie Lian blinks at Hua Cheng with wide eyes as he leans back against the couch, chin resting on the back of one hand while the other arm stays right where it had been before, keeping Xie Lian from moving more than an inch away from him.

That something from before, Xie Lian knows what it is now, and it makes him swallow, his throat feeling thick and swollen.

Xie Lian should’ve known what he was getting himself into.

#hualian #hua cheng/xie lian #xie lian #hua cheng #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #tgcf #modern au #restaurant au #this was just supposed to be smut yall the plot surprised me too #anyways this is for elyse <33

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fattyangel · 23 days ago

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Do you deal with low blood sugar? I haven’t eaten any sugar for days & having heart palpitations & low blood sugar I can hardly function. I’ve been drinking 2 meal replacement shakes & one small meal a day.

Wondering how to get a sugar intake without dealing with the calories

Thx<3

i think fruits are a great option for problems like this bc they have a lot of sugar, i’m not really an expert in this but i guess you could consult on google foods or recipes with high sugar and only have that one meal a day💗💗

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booksandchainmail · 1 year ago

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Hand on the chisel, or Song Ren's rigid, brittle self-control

From Pale Lights book 2

Chapter 2:

Song’s lips thinned, but she held her tongue. You are stone shaped by the chisel of life, she recited. Will it be your hand wielding the tool, or theirs? If she gave her anger to others, she relinquished the chisel – and that was unacceptable.

Chapter 8:

It was one thing to hold a member of her cabal, another to beat them. That would not be tolerated. Hand on the chisel, Song reminded herself, but wrenched open the door harder than necessary.

Chapter 11:

She grit her teeth. To say this was to insult their very contract, since she had asked to – Song smoothed out the thought, the rising anger. He did it, she knew, to get a rise out of her. But she would not fall for it this time. Song had prepared herself, meditated on the matter. Her hand would remain on the chisel.

Chapter 13:

Song could see them creeping across the checkered, cracked floor of the entrance hall. The god was everywhere, blind hands tugging and pulling at the insides of Scholomance like a child at play – moving this and that, just itching to smash it all onto something that would scream. Hand on the chisel, she reminded herself. Fear would do her no good in this place. Fear never helped anywhere.

Chapter 16:

Song, instead, calmly rose and faced as much as the wall as she could. She blinked, once, and breathed out. The sheer number of details was… Hand on the chisel, the Tianxi reminded herself.

Chapter 16:

“Trade on your own time,” Colonel Cao told the students. “We move on.” Song almost flinched. Hand on the chisel.

Chapter 18:

It smelled burnt. Swallowing thickly, Song looked down and saw that in her fugue she had left the chicken unattended too long. The top was still pink, but when she flipped the cuts she saw they had charred stripes. The Tianxi swallowed. If she cut them out perhaps it wouldn’t show? No, they’ll still see I cut out parts. Perhaps if she sliced every piece in two, then – no, idiot, they would notice the quantity was too small. One of them would ask. They would know. Hands shaking, tearing up like a fucking child, Song did the only rational thing she could: she put the pot off the fire, went outside with a shovel and dug a hole in a corner of the garden. She emptied the burnt chicken into it – she’d have to buy another to replace it from her own funds – and filled the hole. She had to hurry, they could be back anytime now. Song opened the windows to get rid of the smell and cleaned the iron pot before doing the recipe properly this time. When her cabal began arriving one after the other, Song was ready. She welcomed them with a smile and a meal and her hand remained on the chisel as they all sat together and ate. Like a proper brigade, led by a proper captain.

Chapter 21:

And he was right, she realized. It would be their word against his, and though she was confident they would come out ahead in the hearing the incident would be added to her record. She had shot a watchman from behind. Every superior officer she could ever have would know she had crippled someone wearing the black. Who would trust her after that? Who would let her stand behind them? Song had already seen how bad it would be, fighting against the tide, and now mere minutes out of that place she was somehow making it all worse. She had learned nothing, made all that pain and grief pointless. Crack. “-of your life,” the man laughed. “You’re fucked, brat, you-” Her hand slipped. It was not the blow of a duelist or a soldier: her blade hacked into the man’s face like a butcher knife. “You trash,” she snarled, ripping her blade out and hacking down again. “You relic, you-” Song screamed and struck again. And again, and again and again. He had cornered her, ended her career. Only when her arm hurt and her breath was ragged did the silver-eyed girl fall to her knees, choking out a sob, fingers closed around the chisel she had used to make a ruin of the watchman.

#pale lights #song ren #i love her so much #girl who is so so normal and in control of herself goes through a terrible horrible no good very bad week #and has a perfectly rational secret chicken meltdown so she can keep being Normal #and then things Get Worse and it turns out the alternative to self-loathing spirals is brutal knife murder!#(followed by immediately externalizing all of it so she can be normal again)#i want to force her to take a vacation

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kitzenvoncatzen · 6 months ago

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ok so i have a plan tomorrow, i am going to make a large amount of tea, with an even larger concentration of tea bags (if 1 cup is typically 1 tea bag, this will be 3 tea bags for 1 cup, and its like 2 cups) then, i am going to mix in some thai tea (this recipe seems to be more tea-based than i am intending) probably not a lot cause i dont have a lot left then, i am going to mix in 1 can of coke, yknow, for the spice or whatever it is (i will shake it up and make sure it is totally flat before i mix it) then, i am going to mix in a reasonable amount of meal replacement shake mix (specifically CTRL cinnamon crunch flavor or whatever it is (I really shouldve gotten strawberry that wouldve been so much better)) then, i am going to mix in 1 teaspoon vanilla extract (i'd add a cup but i dont have that much, so since i cant go big im just gonna go normal)

then, i am going to shake it for a good 5 minutes only then will i drink it and i will give it a name once i have tasted it

i will report back eventually

#this is a good idea

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tanuki-voice · 2 years ago

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Meal Plan

You live in an apartment with a new roommate, and as it happens, they're an excellent cook.

You haven't made a meal for yourself in a long time now, whatever they make is miles ahead of what you're capable of. And it all tastes fantastic. Even things you'd had before, things you'd known the taste of, had taken on new, delectable flavors. They were always eager to make food for you, and enjoyed it even more when they could watch you eat. It must just be a thing chefs do, you'd assumed at the time. You hadn't had a problem with it either; you enjoyed their company, and they were definitely your type, though you would never directly tell them that.

It had started with meals, but eventually came to include snacks as well, replacing the granola bars and assorted nuts in your pantry with a world's worth of exotic foods to tempt you between meals. Before you'd known it, you had gained 10 pounds. Telling this to your roommate brought a smile to their face. "I guess my cooking is just that good, huh?" They replied. You were in no place to disagree.

One day, they called you into the kitchen to try a new milkshake recipe they had been testing. You sat down, took a glass, and drank. It was thick and rich, but in ways that complimented the flavor. It tasted like you were drinking a cake. Halfway through, you began to feel it in your stomach. It was very, very filling. In response, your roomie went around the kitchen counter, and hugged you from behind, with their hands resting on your stomach. They began to run it, easing the soreness, and working out pesky gas bubbles.

It took you by surprise. It certainly felt nice, but it was definitely more intimate than your roommate usually was. It was slightly embarrassing too, even attempting to stifle them, each bubble of gas would cause a small belch, which they would punctuate with a soft, whispered "there we go." or "good job!" After a couple minutes, they asked if you thought you could finish it. You answered that you still felt kinda full, to which they replied "Come on, it's only another 5,000 calories, you can do it."

5,000!? You looked at them in shock, what had they been feeding you? "It's not that big of a deal, you know. I've been making stuff like this ever since we started living together, and you'd been fine with it." They said with a devilish smile. So that's how you'd gained all that weight! They picked up the glass with what remained of the milkshake, and plucked out the wide straw. "You haven't got anything to worry about," They cooed, "You'll look *great* with some extra meat on your bones."

They put the glass to your mouth, and tilted it down your throat, forcing you to drink the rest as it cascaded into your maw. You could feel your stomach pack itself full. When you were finally finished, you let out a loud burp, and collapsed backward into your roomie. They rubbed your full belly, and used the other hand to caress your cheek. "There we go, not so bad, was it?" They asked rhetorically. It wasn't bad. It felt kind of good, even. You were enjoying the full feeling, and the rubbing.

They guided you over to the couch, where they laid you down, and took care of you (you were so full it hurt to move). Your roommate gushed about high calorie recipes, gaining shakes, goals weights and how excited they were to try a few things they'd been saving for later. They asked you, possibly a little too late "Do you want to keep going?" Good food for the rest of your life, and this feeling forever? You were in. Your roommate's face lit up with excitement. "Good." They replied, and punctuated it with a kiss on the cheek.

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androgynousblackbox · 1 month ago

Text

Dead Main Course. 5 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

To say that Lucifer Morningstar became a sort of obssesion for one Alastor could have been an understament. Not one that Alastor would agree on, of course. From his own perspective, he was merely keeping track of his latest prey like any hunter worth their salt would do.

The little discoveries he did since the birthday party did nothing to diminish his resolution. If anything, it gave him a new drive to see it to fruition. He had to know what kind of interest Lucifer had on him and, if possible, exploit it in his favor. His flesh would taste all the more tender if it was offered wantonly, fully trusting himself to his hands and his teeth.

Truly, despite what a deceased business employee would say, the idea of just having a normal relationship was a joke from the start. That was never a path that was ever going to work for neither of them. He already knew that when Lucifer first rejected him, but now he was more sure than ever before. A quiet calm existence, with dates, hand holding each other and love confessions in hot breath near to each other's face was not the kind of thing that made the heart of Alastor truly shake with potency, for his hunger to activate strong and undeniable. All of that could ever be the playing of a role, a convenient mask whose boring and restrictive nature would end up suffocating him sooner or later.

But a prey was always something interesting. Every single thing that he could learn from it was a conscious study he engaged in like it was already his favorite subject. Better and more complex than any recipe could ever be. Every detail memorized and stored for whenever it became useful. Until he had cleaned up his plate from the last trace of Lucifer Morningstar, there was nothing more fascinating or more worthy of his attention. To that end, he became a even more loyal to Lucifer than his own could ever be.

If the man was at his home, Alastor was either following every movement through his binoculars in the building in front or listening to whatever is that he was doing in his room. Sketching, listening music, wasting time in little computer games to keep himself entertained were the most common ways in which he decided to spend his free time in his room. Sometimes he would connect the headphones to the device he was using. In the following silence, Alastor could hear the ruffling of fabric moving, Lucifer letting out a sigh on a very specific tone and knew instantly to leave him alone for a little while. He did not need to be a pervert for his own ends. Some decency had to be kept at the very least.

Not to mention, he less than anything else needed more material to give to his mind to start running wild. That sigh had been more than enough. The time he managed to catch Lucifer walking across his room after a shower, without a towel or anything covering him because it was a hot day anyway, in search of his phone had been more than enough. Short man as he was, Lucifer did not wasted a single inch of his body into not being the best version of it that it could be. It wasn't difficult to see why anyone would believe that someone like that could belong in a runaway or posing in front of a camera to be the treat of someone's eye.

Alastor knew that it was nothing but a distraction that it was best to avoid as much as possible. A waste of time that did nothing to advance his meal time. If he indulged in it, if he let himself let loose exploring that kind of interest, it was going to be a lot harder to resist indulging in other impulses. So he looked away, stopped listening, went to give himself a cold shower and tried so hard to not think what he could do if he was there in the same room. What could happen if he just came out of the closet to replace Lucifer's hand with his own, what it could be if he just used his mouth instead, the sounds that would elicit, the smell filling up his nose and the taste of accumulated blood under skin pressing at the back of his throat.

No, he did not need to add more fuel to that disaster. He had more than enough on his own, thank you very much.

In comparison, Alastor much prefered when he had the chance to chase Lucifer outside of his house. Prepare “random” encounters with his coworker for him to act surprised by was notoriously satisfactory. He wondered if that was how cats felt when just letting the rats on their radar to escape momentarily before pouncing on them to deliver the final blow.

Did Lucifer feel like trying the sweets on a nearby café that just opened up? Oh, what a coincidence, Alastor heard about it too and he just needed to test their coffee. Was Lucifer looking for a book at the local bookshop? Well, isn't this funny, Alastor was too looking for a specific title that he heard could be there. Lucifer was buying his groceries or ingredients to practice some new dish? Alastor just had to get some food at the same place, entirely by chance. Buying clothes? Not without some company, he was not.

Lucifer at first was startled, like just seeing him outside of their job was a red flag on itself. But Alastor never made the encounters last too long, just a greeting, some small talk and continued on with what brought him to the place like he wasn't starving to turn around, drag Lucifer back to his apartment and never let him outside again. There was going to be plenty of time for that, as long he wasn't an idiot and did something to scare him away.

His restraint was compensated. Just as he expected, eventually Lucifer relaxed at seeing him. His face, if anything, started to light up when recognizing him. Alastor did not have to reach out to Lucifer first to recognize his presence. Now Lucifer was the one who confidently strutted to him in order to make conversation. If the man ever questioned the amount of times that Alastor just so happened to be around his same area, that never seemed to dampen his good humor.

It was only a matter of time before he found his prey partaking in a little meeting with other irrelevant people. Alastor was willing to let them have this at peace and stay away, as a courtesy, but what was he supposed to do if Lucifer was the one who waved at him and one of his friends recognized him?

"Alastor!" Lucifer's smile was wide and perfect. Alastor felt good about the fact that even when surrounded by his old friends, he still went out of his way for him. Suck on that. "Are you going to watch the movies too?"

Alastor strolled to their location, moving away from the posters he pretended to be interested in. He gave a nod of recognition to the girl with colorful hair (Bee, suplied his memory a moment later) and the tall designer Asmodeus texting on his phone. Bee already had her arms full with a tray full of sweet popcorn, sodas, chocolate bars and other goodies that would have anyone wondering where she planned to put all that sugar.

"I was," said Alastor, making a show of checking the time on his own phone. He sighed with a slight shake of his head. "I think I was stood up by my group though. That is what I get for going out earlier to try to catch the best seats."

"No way, and they didn't warn you?" Lucifer sounded so legitimately sorry for him that Alastor felt himself wanting to giggle.

Instead, he offered a slight shrug as if saying what are you doing to do.

"In fairness, they did say that work might keep them busy so I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Still, that sucks" Lucifer blowed some air over his upper lip. His eyes gazed over the movie posters. "What were you planning to see?"

"Honestly, I didn't have any strong preference. Just getting out of the house to reunite with some friends was the whole idea."

"Aww" Lucifer pouted and threw a glance to his own group. At that point Asmodeus was holding the tray of food with one arm and throwing gummy bears in the air with the other for Bee to cath with her mouth, like a well trained dog. For every catch, Asmodeus applauded her and gave Bee the opportunity to do the same with him, not getting quite the same results. Nobody would be able to tell that they were both pass their 30s. "Well, do you want to accompany us? We were going to see Slasher 7. Mostly out of nostalgia, you know? We saw the first one when we were still in highschool so we keep coming back for the sequels."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose" said Alastor with a grin.

"Nah, don't worry about it" Lucifer made a dismissive handwave. "These movies are so much better with a big group. The plot keeps resetting with each entry, so you can follow along without knowing the others. Besides, Mammon cancelled on us so we were missing someone anyway."

"Well, if you think it won't be a problem…"

"Not at all!" Lucifer smiled big as he got closer and put a hand on his back. The touch was hesitant, as if ready to pull out at the slightest signal that it wasn't welcome. Alastor made sure to not give out any, just like he conceiled the way his heart started racing when Lucifer looked relieved his reaction was nothing like when their chef manager touched him. "Guys, you remember Alastor?"

"Hey, man!" said Bee, catching the gummy bear from Asmodeus easily in her hand. "I am still having dreams about those pork chops that you made for us in Luci's birthday! I was going to have Luci cook something for my day, but I may be having second thoughts. A little eye candy doesn't hurt either if it comes with good food" she added with a wiggling eyebrow. Alastor lamented when Lucifer stopped touching to go punch softly the shoulder of the woman, who only laughed harder. "You know I am saying the truth, honey pie."

"Do you ever shut up?" Lucifer chuckled.

"Aww, come on, you would miss it if I did."

"That is highly debatable, Bee. I am open to new experiences."

"If you want to experience hell, that is" Bee pouted, crossing her arms.

"I will tell my dad you said that."

"Don't you dare, you little prick!" despite her words, Bee pushed Lucifer by the shoulder while laughing.

They were actually like brother and sister. Alastor felt both relieved and annoyed at the same time. Even if it wasn't a distraction of the romantic or sexual nature, it was a distraction all the same. Lucifer should only have eyes for him just exactly as he had eyes only for him. That thought just made perfect sense in his mind.

"Don't pay them any mind" said Asmodeus with a chuckle and he offered his hand to Alastor. "Hey, man, nice seeing you."

Alastor made sure to give him a firm, but quick shake, and then hide his hand at the back to simulate he wasn't cleaning up on his jacket.

"Likewise."

The line they were mobed to the front. It didn't take long for them to grab their tickets for the movie or for them to come inside. Alastor got himself a bottle of water because it was the only thing that wouldn't offend his senses too much.

Inside of the dark room, Bee grabbed Asmodeus by the arm to take him to the absolute last row of seats. From there, she relaxed on hre chair elevating her feet to rest on the seat in front, while Asmodeus told her, surely not for the first time, that it was rude to do that, only to recieve a quick shush as an answer.

Alastor sat closer to the hallways, next to Lucifer, followed by Asmodeus and then Bee. He put his arm on the armrest at his side, part defiant and part curious, wanting to see what would Lucifer do in response. Would he go to the other side. Would he look the situation and slouch his shoulders, resigned to being uncomfortable for at least two hours of his time? Or would he try to shove his way in, no matter who was in the way? This was a new situation he haven't seen his prey on before, so he had to find out.

He was prepared for any of those responses and to offer a mock fight back, just to see what would happen next. Every piece of new information he could get about his prey was another weapon he could use in his favor in the future, when it was time to strike. For a long moment, it seemed that ignoring the armrest was going to be the go to. The arm of Lucifer remained over his thigh as the light turned on and the projector got turned on.

Ten minutes passed. He wasn't moving from there. Fifteen minutes. Alastor was barely paying any attention to whatever was happening in the screen. He heard voices and words and sound effects. The lights changed over the face of Lucifer, washing his pale skin with colors of blue and green, moving images dancing on the pupils of his big brown eyes.

A part of him wanted to be irritated, even if just in principle because his little test was being surpassed without any effort and he didn't like the results, but couldn't bring himself to actually get there when Lucifer had the tiniest of smiles at certain point. As if watching those characters, that style of directing, hearing those names, brought him back to those simpler times when his biggest concerns were school and the everyday drama of his classmates. Alastor would never use the word endearing, but that is what it was, softening him up like a tenderizer that did not hurt at all.

As the screen turned into a menacing red and the whole threater was filled with ominous music, Lucifer's smile grew bigger and finally inclined to his side. His hand lifted on top of Alastor's and landed over his forearm, his fingers gripping him as he passed over the barrier of their seats to speak to him closer. Alastor found himself finding halway through until he could smell the shampoo the man had used, the warmth of his face irradiating like a light attracting the bug it was supposed to be attached to from behind.

"Here comes the first one," whispered Lucifer.

Alastor turned his head. The killer had a mask of a cow, the same one in the movie poster, and had tied up a man to a table after knocking him up. He was naked except for his underwear and was pleading desperately to be let go. First with nervous jokes, then lashing out in anger and finally just sobbing as he realized that none of it was working, that the killer didn't care. Slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, the killer grabbed an electric knife for the counter and started cutting. First the toes, to shove them in the mouth of the guy, then his calves, the thighs, mercifully going over his crotch area to continue with the intestines.

The blood was dripping and exploding in front of the mask, tainting the white face of the mask. Alastor threw a side glance to Lucifer. He was laughing, squirming, both disgusted and deligted by the torture that was indeed almost comical, because even through all of it the victim was still begging to be let go, as if his guts spilling over to the floor was a inconvenience he could shake off if only he had his hands free. Alastor wondered if Lucifer would have a similar reaction when it was his time. After the initial expected surprise lost its effect, would he beg, clinging to life to his last breath? Or would he jump to the insult, calling him every name except his own for having the audacity of putting him on that situation.

If he had to choose, Alastor prefered the last one. Have the man try to keep some semblance of dignity even when his last thread of hope was gone. He could see it so clearly in his mind, the pale, chiseled body on top of the table of his kitchen spread out, his facial features contorting in way he never saw before. The fight that he could feel was just bubbling under the surface exploding in a beautiful, loud, battle to not let himself break. He saw himself hovering on top of him, with his favorite hunting knife at hand. Lucifer would bleed so much better than anything on that movie could have. Alastor would lick him clean before every new cut, his tongue would slip so easily, the sweat mixing with the blood.

Alastor forced himself to watch the movie to cut that train of thought. The killing scene was puntuated by long scream of the victim. The sound stretched out until fading on the music for the next moment. Lucifer didn't moved his arm even then. Once Alastor realized it, he couldn't stop being aware of it. Of how heavy it was or how Lucifer's arm was thicker compared to his. In a clean fair fight, if the issue was on strenght alone, Lucifer could probably subdued him if he saw him as a threat. But that didn't meant that Alastor couldn't get ahead by being faster and more flexible. Even so, why take that risk when his reward was so close? He should take him by surprise, when the least he expected it. Bring ropes along too in order to tie him up and cover his mouth from yelling anything. Let his brown eyes be the conductors of all of his fury, all his pleading, whatever is that Lucifer felt like sharing with him on his last moments, until the lights were out.

Alastor thought about keeping one hand touching his skin even then. The slow descent from the warm that was reaching him through the fabric of their clothing until room temperature. If it was possible, Alastor wanted to hear his heart beat too until it faded completely. Savor every change until the end, make all of Lucifer's moments his own in a way that no one else could ever know. That way he would know him even more completely that any of his friends or even that Adam ever could. For some reason, however, he couldn't imagine those eyes being turned off, without looking at the world with that interest, the undeniable strenght of his life, illuminating his features. Alastor had seen enough dead faces to recreate one behind his eyes easily, but couldn't quite translate it to Lucifer. It was like asking him to just change the man that was sitting next to him to some other random person. Although maybe that just made sense. By the time Alastor was done, Lucifer would be no more and everything that ever was or would be was going to remain inside of Alastor, where nobody else could see it, for the rest of their lives.

Asmodeus patted the thigh of Lucifer to call his attention. The instant that the man moved away to his side, to hear the whispering of his friend, Alastor considered for the briefest of moment to include the designer into his meal plans. A nice, quick side dish as an appetizer that he wouldn't take his time on. That face didn't cost him at all imagined it lifeless and stuck forever in the same lost expression like so many that had passed through Alastor's hands. But the thought of dedicating the same attention and focus he had over Lucifer towards that other man was just grotesque, disgusting, inherently wrong on a fundamental level. Even so, he would not mind slashing his neck if given the chance.

Some deaths in the movie carry out laughter from the audience, right until the point the screaming became the main focus, and other had the whole threater dead silent. After three consecutive plot twists, the killer was revealed and then ended up killed by the sister of the protagonist. The two survivors embraced together before the camera moved to the cow mask. A hand covered by a black glove grabbed right as the final credits music sounded.

"Told you it was the uncle!" celebrated Bee as they went out.

"He was killed way too early in the movie" said Asmodeus with a frown. "It was too easy."

"Mad because you said it was the cousin, Ozzie?"

"Excuse me for hoping to be surprised! I swear it's like they are not even trying anymore."

"It's okay, Ozzie, you can try again next year" said Bee with a grin. "For now, you know what that means. Ozzie invites the pizza, guys!"

Asmodeus groned, but didn't protest as they kept walking.

"You are coming, right?" said Lucifer to Alastor, pocketing both his hands inside the jacket he had put on inside. "Unless you have something else to do."

"No, but are you sure?" said Alastor.

Just as he was hoping, Lucifer smiled. But it wasn't him the one to speak next.

"No worries, Al, it's all good! Maybe with you around Bee won't be so smug about guessing literally the easiest answer all night."

"Aww, now who is a sore loser?" teased Bee, bumping her elbow on Asmodeus's side.

Asmodeus chuckled, ruffling her multicolored hair.

"I swear it will be my pleasure" added, hand over his heart.

"Well, if nobody minds." Alastor didn't exactly planned for it, but he wasn't about to throw away a golden opportunity when it was presented to him.

Especially not when Lucifer perked up.

"Yeah, man!" encouraged Bee. "Order the most expensive shit you can too! Ozzie can handle it!"

"You keep bragging for doing the modern equivalent of oh, the butler did it!" Asmodeus replied in a mocking tone, that Bee responded in kind.

Near the cinema there was a good section where they all sat down.

"Favorite death?" asked Lucifer as they sat down, drinking their drinks. He was with a soda as Asmodeus and Bee both had a beer. Alastor likewise had one, barely taking a few sips before letting it drop condensation over the table.

"Last one was amusing, I suppose. The trick with the fan and tie is always a classic" Alastor shrugged. "But it's still nothing like the second movie. They still haven't topped the deaths on the second one. I miss the use of more practical elements like the pogo stick."

Lucifer gasped loudly, planting both hands on the table.

"No way you were a fan all along! Why didn't you say so?"

"And miss that kind of reaction? Now why I would do that?" Alastor smirked. Of course the movies were far from being his favorites. The blood was always too thick or too brightly coloured, none of the deaths could ever be taken seriously, but they were fun in a way, in a clearly absurd and stupid manner that only people who did the same as he did would even know about. After seeing so many bleed under his hand, those movies just felt like parodies and sometimes creatives ones at that.

"Favorite death in all the franchise?" said Lucifer, eyes sparkling. "Mine was the one pulled by four hourses by all sides in the fourth one. Mostly because the guy was abusive to the horses before and the killer barely had to do anything to coordinate them."

"The third one in the fifth" said Alastor, smiling devilously. If Lucifer didn't remember which one he was talking about, he was ready to call him out as a fake fan.

It wasn't one of the most popular death because it included a beloved character that was there from the first movies. Not to mention how detailed it was during the entire process. As inaccurate as it was, it was still a lovely concept that elevated the scene.

"Oh, when the guy turns the guy into a meat pie and feed it to his boyfriend?" Lucifer said. Alastor nodded, making Lucifer to pull back with a incredulous smile. "That one? Really? If anything I would think you would hate it because they go about showing how to cook the meat pie all wrong! And I don't think because it was human meat it would make that much of a difference!"

Alastor crinkled his eyes with amusement. Lucifer would be surprised how many things could be changed just because of its source.

"As a professional I can see it was awfully done," agreed Alastor. "But that one has always stand out for me."

Mostly because of the reaction of the boyfriend trying the meat pie. So emotional out of the bat, without understanding why, as if something inside of him had recognized a taste that now was never going to live again. As far Alastor was concerned with, that single moment carried more pathos than any of the final survivors succeding in the end moments ever did.

The group continued talking some more about the movie and the franchise, passing from favorite actors who did cameos to the best killers. At some point Bee had to go because she had some recording to do in the morning. Then Asmodeus had to go to pick up his boyfriend from college. Leaving the two of them sharing a cup of coffee after the pizza was done.

Lucifer was so entranced by their conversation that when he looked at his phone again, was shocked to learn it was close to midnight. Alastor was willing to let him go, satisfied for now, to another night listening back at home, but then the expression of deflated enthusiasm leaving the man encouraged him further.

"Speaking of meat," said, as if they were still talking about the scene Alastor liked, even though they had passed through other bunch of topics after that.

"Oh, we were doing that?" Lucifer arched an eyebrow. "That is news for me."

"We certainly were, please, keep up." Alastor supported both his elbows on the table and hold it under his chin. "I got another catering sidejob. A lady in my building heard I was a chef and she understood that as carte blanche to get a premium job from me by just asking nicely. Unfortunately for me, she was entirely right in account of she being too lovely for me to refuse. My damed sense of decency and caballerosity aside, now I am stuck having to make a menu that includes far too many sweet things I haven't done in ages. But as my luck would have it, I know a guy who is an expert on those things who is not only able to help but very eager to do so."

"You do? Well, I hope you and your friend are very happy working together," joked Lucifer, taking another sip of his cup.

Alastor pursed his lips to a side.

"It wouldn't take much of your time", insisted, keeping the same cool demeanor. "I just need to brush off in some of the fundamentals. You are free to taste anything I make, of course."

Lucifer sighed, crossing his arms. He made a show of consider it for a few seconds, but Alastor already knew he had it in the bag.

"Bribing me with sweets? Damn, you got to know me too well" Lucifer chuckled, brushing his hair back, without a single clue of how right he was. "Fine, fine. If you are that desperate…"

"Let's get not carried away now" warned Alastor with a halfassed frown that had Lucifer grinning.

"We can do something. Next Friday at my house works for you?" said Lucifer, pulling out his wallet as he made a gesture for the waiter to come charge them.

Alastor looked at him with his smile frozen. That wasn't really the plan. The idea was to show to Lucifer to his house, to make him familiarized to it so in next visits would have his guard down and make it easier for Alastor to finish with him.

"Actually…" he started, when Lucifer looked back to him and suddenly thought it didn't mattered. For a first encounter at least. They could always make another at his place. "How about Saturday?" said, to cover himself up. "I will get the list of what we need to look into."

"Saturday then."

Lucifer finally got the attention of the waiter and paid his share of the meal. Alastor did as well.

"Knife to meat you, you pork chop" quoted Lucifer from the sixth movie as they came outside, before they had to separate to go to their respective cars.

At being something he wasn't expecting, Alastor's laughter resonated too strong before he could even think to contain it.

"Smell you later, stink bomb" said in response and they both giggled like kids getting away with passing notes under the nose of the teacher they least liked.

It was a cheesy and corny dialogue in the movie, and exactly because of that he loved it too. Stupidly sincere, ridiculously simple, easy to dismiss by those who were afraid of the most essential pleasures in life. Not them, though.

Lucifer lifted his hand as if about to pat his shoulder and stopped. Rolling his eyes, Alastor took it to shake it on his own.

"For future reference, I am okay when it comes from friends" clarified, patting the hand of Lucifer with his other. "Not to mention, even if I wasn't, you were already acting otherwise since this afternoon."

"Oh." Lucifer's blush could be seen even in the tenuous light of the parking lot. "Sorry. I did wonder if I was making you uncomfortable."

"You weren't" Alastor gave his hand a squeeze and then actively forced himself to let it go. Every touch of Lucifer felt like it was constantly burning him, as if the blonde man was running the longest fever ever or his skin was picking it up after coming back from the coldest blizzard. For a second the hand of Lucifer hanged in the space between them, before returning to his pocket. "See you tomorrow at work, Lucifer."

"Have a good night, Alastor" Lucifer's smile returned easily to his face as he turned around, walking to his car.

That night Alastor dropped his headphones and shut his devices off, holding his forehead between his hands. Hearing Lucifer pleasuring himself was one thing, but hearing the way the man moaned his name was a real torture he wasn't going to submit himself to. He went to sleep after taking a cold shower.

#appleradio #radioapple #duckiedeer #hazbin hotel au #lucifer x alastor #dead plate au

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