meal ideas!
low energy ("do not ask me to do any prep work at all, so help me god")
mozzerella cheese wrapped in pepperoni ("pizza tacos"!)
hummus and pretzels or naan (putting the naan in the microwave for like 10 seconds...heavenly)
canned chili (with shredded cheese and sour cream if you have it! boom done!)
instant miso soup (warm and lovely! put tofu in it for protein!)
cheese and cured meat, olives, canned fish, crackers, dried fruit, or whatever easy "charcuterie" type items you like
alternate bites of apple and spoonfulls of peanut butter (mixing honey or chocolate chips to the peanut butter is my favorite)
a "deconstructed sandwich": bites of lunch meat, pickles, cheese, cherry tomato, etc (I love roast beef and white cheddar for this)
yogurt and granola or fruit
put frozen potstickers + frozen edamame in the steamer/rice cooker, chill elsewhere with a timer set, then boom
tortilla chips + canned refried beans + cherry tomatoes + cilantro + jarred salsa con queso (or warm shredded cheese on top of the chips in the microwave for 30 seconds)
bagel + cream cheese + lox
microwave scrambled eggs (add things like green onion, soy sauce, or anything else you like!)
cottage cheese and fruit (mixed together or just on the side)
bowl of shredded rotisserie chicken + buffalo sauce + a bit of mayo + green onion (use a kitchen scissors to cut them right in!)
medium energy ("I'll boil water but don't ask me to chop shit")
boiled eggs and fresh veggies (put a little salt on top of the eggs!)
buttered noodles (my go-to nausea meal, it has never failed me. ideas of things to add: frozen peas, imitation crab, roasted garlic)
baked potato with toppings (I like cheese, bacon, broccoli, green onion, and sour cream)
quesadilla (add some canned beans, cilantro, or avocado!)
pot roast (requires a lot of time but not a lot of actual work. I love it with peas!)
cuban sandwich (bread, swiss, pickle, mustard, ham... my favorite thing to panini-ify by far)
pan-fried tofu with scallion sauce (this sauce goes well with everything and tofu is no exception)
pancakes or waffles! (I love mine with jam)
ham, pickle, and cream cheese roll-ups
fried eggs (with toast and lots of butter...so comforting)
fruit smoothie (bananas, frozen strawberries, yogurt...or whatever!)
I hate salad but could write essays on this copycat olive garden salad (throw it in a bowl! chopping required if you use onion)
spaghetti (controversial maybe but angel hair > spaghetti noodles)
pasta salad (olives broccoli fresh mozerella... those little mini pepperonis... yeah)
stir-fried thai garlic shrimp (I like using the mini frozen salad shrimps, it's easy! use jarred minced garlic to avoid chopping!)
tuna mayo onigiri
slow cooker ribs
buffalo chicken wrap (or any number of other wrap options! shred pre-cooked rotisserie chicken to make it easier)
if your local grocery store sells pre-cooked gyro strips, that can turn into an easy wrap with store-bought pita & tzatziki with tomatoes and onions!
couscous and chickpeas
tortellini + pasta sauce + spinach
high energy ("I don't mind chopping some things up!")
stuffed shells with spinach
chicken and roasted garlic (oh my god.....one of my all time favorites)
beef tacos (I like mine with cilantro and onion, and when I'm feeling especially high energy I love a tomatillo salsa)
chicken alfredo
tom kha gai (a thai soup and my absolute favorite! you just need access to galangal)
lasagna! (freezes well and then boom! low energy meal for later)
pad thai! (not as hard as you'd think, as long as you have access to tamarind paste!)
potstickers! (this is a lovely group activity if you want to cook with housemates!)
rice and beans
bang bang shrimp (ogughfhgfuh I love it. you can also do bang bang tofu!)
minestrone soup (so many nice veggies!)
fried rice (put whatever you have on hand in there! broccoli, peas, carrot, and beef is my favorite combo)
broccoli cheddar soup
spring rolls and peanut sauce
skewers (such as beef, onion, zucchini, bell pepper... you don't need a grill, oven works!)
roasted turkey with garlic parmesean asparagus
pork chop with mashed potatoes
panang curry
chicken gnocchi soup (use store bought gnocchi or make your own if you have a high energy day!)
bibimbap (super customizable depending on what veggies you like best)
butter chicken
plus! things that have helped me meal plan:
whenever you think of a meal you'd like to make, take 3 seconds to google search it, take a screenshot of the image results, and put it in a "food ideas" folder. instant visual menu!
the concept of "meal prepping" makes me recoil but I've learned that it can simply mean preparing shredded chicken, boiled eggs, or some other simple protein that you can customize throughout the week. shredded chicken can turn into wraps, salads, pasta dishes, etc... you don't have to meal prep yourself into the same meal all week!
when I have difficulty working up an appetite, I'll scroll through my favorite restaurant menus! there might be some foods I can't make at home, but many times they're very simple to recreate because the ingredients are literally listed!
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Headcanons for mcyt x reader doing a cooking/baking stream together??
I love your writing!!!
<3
ooooo okay okay!!! yes of course bro ; also thank you!! I appreciate it sm 🫶🫶🫶🫶
MCYT ; cooking/baking stream
includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers
warnings ; language, grease fires
masterlist
TOMMYINNIT
you guys were making lasanga
Garfield jokes every five minutes
there's pasta sauce and cheese everywhere
he's constantly screaming to the viewers because you keep slapping him with the lasagna sheets, cooked or dry
"y/n! help! I'm being assaulted with lasagna sheets!"
he stained his shirt with pasta sauce 💀💀
almost set the house on fire bc he somehow left shit in the oven before preheating it
you turn on music halfway through and it turns into a karaoke stream
"CALIFORNIA GIRLS WERE UNFORGETTABLE-"
RANBOO
you were making soup because you found a good recipe you wanted to try
you accidently spilled the broth and covered your legs in it
he cut himself chopping up the celery (very minor cut dw)
"cooking stream? more like we injure ourselves for two hours stream"
"cooking stream? I hardly know her"
very chaotic but very good soup
during the intervals where you guys were just waiting for things to cook, you started a hashtag on Twitter to ask you guys stuff
and you answered them while keeping an eye on the food
afterwards you guys watch TV and eat your food while still streaming
"normalize eating on stream 2024!"
FREDDIE BADLINU
you were making breakfast for dinner on stream
you had to go use the bathroom while the bacon was cooking and left Freddie to tend to everything for less than a minute
and he started a grease fire.
after he got it extinguished he kinda just stood there waiting for you
meanwhile chat was exploding with panic and laughter
"Hey, y/n, I don't think we're having bacon tonight!"
"What the fuck happened???"
luckily no damage to anything other than the meat
the rest of it was really good though, and the stream had enough action for tonight 💀💀
NIKI NIHACHU
you guys were making cupcakes
you dropped like two eggs 💀💀💀 so while she was getting new ones you were cleaning up all the eggshell fragments and the insides
you got the camera to show stream your fucking mess and someone sent a dono saying "butterfingers ass"
the cackling after that 💀
you're able to get them into the oven though
and while you're waiting for them to cook, you watch dance moms and discuss everything wrong with it
commentary youtubers? I hardly know them
she begins making the icing while you pull the cupcakes out to let them cool
10/10 cupcakes they're amazing
you guys had a pride flag theme so lmao
ALEX QUACKITY
you were supposed to be making pancakes as a little challenge
his are literally raw and he put chocolate chips from the freezer straight in them
"that banana isn't gonna help anything"
"how do you know that??"
flour is everywhere. it looks like a war started
you put to much non-stick spray on the skillet and started a little fire
but Alex to the rescue dw
he couldn't even figure out how to use it and almost sprayed himself in the face!
goes on Twitter later to update that your kitchen was completely fine but the underneath of your microwave is a tiny bit melted
you blame him every time after that 💀💀
"my microwave melted a bit because you don't know how to use a fire extinguisher!"
"youre the one who used too much spray!"
chat always sides with you, too 😭😭
FOOLISH GAMERS
you thought making fried rice was a good idea? wrong
he literally has no idea what's happening
"can you make the scrambled eggs for me while I tend to the vegetables?"
"how many?"
"they're literally on the cabinet"
chat clipping every single funny moment too
"is the rice cooker even on? holy shit you left it on warm"
"I thought that meant it was on!"
"dude you've used this thing before, how long did it take for you to cook it?"
"like, forever"
"oh my god"
fried rice 10/10
he's complaining about the vegetables like he didn't have like two hours to say something about different veggies
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Of Tremors and believing in Love - Yaku x Reader
Yaku’s not sure what he expected.
Maybe some buff Russian guy like they show in action movies, or an elderly gentleman that makes him feel like a Celebrity with a private driver.
Not you.
You’re gorgeous, even in the unforgiving light of the airport exit area, holding up a sign that spells his name in bright red Kanji.
He swallows nervously, hands clammy with sweat as he approaches.
He hadn’t been that nervous, he thinks, leaving Japan for an unfamiliar country. It was Volleyball and he knew Volleyball. He could rely on his talent if everything else failed, and on his iron stomach to handle whatever the Russian kitchen was going to throw at him - Lev’s tales hadn’t left him with much hope.
But he’s never been that good at talking to girls and his perpetually single status is either a symptom or the cause of this predicament.
“Hi,” he greets you, voice breaking over that one-syllable word.
“Hi,” you smile and bow in greeting. “How was your flight? Are you hungry, tired, or anything else?”
Your Japanese is perfect. He can even hear hints of a Kansai dialect hidden somewhere in between.
“A little hungry,” he admits, “I… uh… I’m Yaku, by the way. Morisuke.”
He wants to facepalm so badly. Where’s his usual coolness? Where’s his confident tone?
“Sorry,” you apologize immediately, offering your name. “I got caught up in the moment. How about we grab something to eat and get to know each other?”
Yaku nods, glad that’s something he can answer without opening his mouth and making a fool of himself.
As it turns out, he was right.
You grew up in the Kansai region, moved to Russia with your parents when you were a young teen.
He can’t help but search for familiarity in your features, half expecting to be reminded of Lev, or Alisa. He berates himself immediately. Just because you’re Japanese-Russian too doesn’t mean you have to look like everyone else who’s Japanese-Russian.
“How did they find you?” Yaku asks as he slips into the booth, “The agency, I mean.”
“Oh, I work for Tigr Ekaterinburg. I handled your contracts. They asked me if I would be willing to show you around and be a helping hand the first few months and I agreed. Japanese players are often polite and easy to work with. Do you think you’ll be able to handle the Russians though? They can be pretty rough.”
Yaku laughs. “I do think I can. I’ve played in quite a few different teams. My classmates called me Demon-Senpai.” He laughs again at the memory, fondness washing over him.
“Tell me more about that,” you ask, your question so unusually direct for the polite tone you’re using. You flip open the Menu. “I’ll be ordering. Any allergies?”
-
“So you’re the Mom-friend of the Group,” you summarize, popping the last tiny pancake, or Syrniki, as they are called, into your mouth. You chew slowly, not letting him out of your sight.
“That’s interesting. I’ve never met a male Mom-friend.”
“I’m not-” he tries to defend himself, even though he’s heard it often enough from Kenma and Kuroo, Kai and Lev. “You really think so?”
“There’s an easy test,” you tell him with a smile. “Did you know I have actually a headache? It’s been bothering me all day.”
Worry washes over him. “Really? God, why didn’t you say so? You should rest then. Did you drink enough water?”
You laugh, the sound tinkling around him like droplets of silver.
“You failed the test. Mom-Friend detected.”
He pouts and you still. For a moment, no one speaks.
Eventually, you move again, clear your throat, and take a sip of your drink.
“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended.”
“Good.” You nod, your voice calm and distant. “If you want, I can show you you’re apartment now.”
- - -
Yaku’s not the first guy you get to drive around town nor will he be the last, probably.
You drop him off at his apartment, show him the few things he could have trouble with - no rice cooker in the kitchen and the bathroom works a little different over here - and leave for the office, determined to finish that project you’d been working on all week.
Hopefully, work will flush out whatever’s bothering your heart, causing it to race at the adorable little pout on Yaku’s lips.
You told him you’d pick him up later for a night out, so you leave a little early - still not done with that damned project - to put on something fancier, add some smoke to your make-up.
Yaku’s waiting in the lobby when you step in and you swallow thickly at his sight.
Most athletes like to dress as casually as they can in their free time. Jeans and a shirt are often the most you get to see. Yaku, however, is dressed in an expensive suit, hair combed back.
You can tell he’s not a stranger to wearing suits, moving just as easily in it as he did in his tracksuit earlier.
He gets up before you can call out his name, cheeks turning a soft pink at your sight.
That eases your nerves a little, knowing you still have at least some effect on him.
“Ready to go?” You ask, trying to ignore the way he takes you in. There’s a warmth in his eyes that’s a little unnerving.
-
He’s even prettier under the twinkling lights of the city, leaning in when you explain something, expensive Cologne wafting around you.
“Do you want to dance?” You ask, after you’ve wandered through the city center. “Or something to eat?”
Yaku ponders the question for a moment.
“How about a bite first? I’d love to take you out to dance, though.”
His words leave you flushed and angry. That’s not what you meant, but correcting him would sound weird.
When you suddenly have to weave through a group of tourists, his hand presses against the small of your back, warm and steady, and in way you don’t want it to. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him off, nor to move away from his touch.
-
“First year was tough”, he remembers over a bowl of Pelmeni, “Kuroo and I didn’t get along.”
“Who was Kuroo again?” You ask, offering him one of your Pirozhki.
He swipes his thumb over his phone and turns it, so you can see a picture of his old Volleyball team. Yaku’s easy to find, almost the smallest of the group. He’s grown since then, though not much, if you had to guess.
“That’s Kuroo. I know his hair looks awful, but he claims he can’t do anything about it and that it’s natural. He was our Captain in our third year. The pudding head next to him is Kenma, our genius setter. These two have been best friends since childhood.”
He tells you each name, warmth in his voice as he remembers. It’s not hard to tell that they were close.
“Are you still in contact?” You ask, surprised when he nods.
“With all of them?” His eyebrows wander up.
“Yes, why? Is that surprising to you?”
You feel caught and look away, but you’re unable to escape his eyes, it seems.
“A little,” you admit finally and hope that he drops it.
Thankfully, he does.
.
Yaku’s easy to talk to.
All too soon you find yourself walking out of that restaurant and into a nightclub, his head so close as he listens to your explanation that you could kiss him, if you wanted to, without even having to move much.
But you don’t. Because it would be weird, right? And unprofessional.
His hand is warm in yours as a new song starts and he pulls you in.
It’s a slow one and you can’t tell if that’s good or bad.
The dance floor is packed and you’re soon pressed against him, your own heartbeat echoing in your stomach. There’s a tilt to his mouth that makes you wonder how it would taste and before you know you’re leaning in a little and he’s leaning in too.
His lips are soft and warm and he tastes like the wine you shared earlier.
His teeth graze your lower lip, just the faintest touch, but it shakes you out of your dream-like state better than a bucket of ice water ever could.
You snap back and purse your lips like they’ve offended you personally.
“I…” You hesitate, your voice breathless, “I’ll wait for you at the bar.”
.
There’s a tremor hiding in your bones.
You check your hands in the seconds it takes him to catch up to you, but you can’t tell from the outside. Good.
“I-”
“You can dance with someone else,” you tell him, voice as polite as can be. “I am only your guide, after all.”
“I don’t want to dance with anyone else.” He reaches for you but you step out of reach.
“Please,” you ask, but he shakes his head.
“Very well. Do you want to take a walk?”
.
The sky is clear above you, though it’s hard to see the stars beyond the glow of street lamps.
Your hands are buried in the pockets of your jacket in case he tries to take one.
“Do you believe in love?” You ask after a minute when the street clears and you’re on your own. “Not in general, but in like… love for yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“Makes sense.”
“It does?” Yaku looks over, confusion written all over his face.
“Sure. You’re good-looking, smart, easy to talk to. It makes sense.”
He smiles, but your stomach churns violently.
“Yaku-san,” you stop, address him in the politest way you can. “I don’t believe in love. I am sorry I just kissed you. But I cannot offer you anything of that kind.”
Yaku’s quiet for a while. His face does not give anything away.
Eventually, he nods.
“I understand. But we can be friends, right?”
“Friends as in you’re waiting for me to change my mind about it?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Friends as in friends. I quite like your company, but I can deal with a rejection.”
You hesitate for a second before you nod.
“Friends would be nice.
- - - xxx - - -
“Have you eaten yet?” Yaku’s standing in the doorway to your office, two identical looking Bento Boxes in his hands.
“Eh?” You look up from your Desk. “No, but what are you doing here?”
“I figured. Want to share?”
You’re just about to decline when your stomach grumbles loudly.
Yaku grins and steps closer. “I think that was a confirmation.”
-
“Hey,” Yaku’s grin is warm and inviting, his hair dripping wet. “We just finished training and the boys want to hit the city. Do you want to come along? I heard they have great Syrniki.”
He absolutely butchers the name and you can’t help but correct him.
“So?” He cocks his head to the side, waiting. “It’s just a hangout with the guys. You know at least one of them, well, besides me, I mean.”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll come.”
-
“Are you coming to the game this weekend?” Yaku asks as you meet him in the lobby. He always comes in early for extra training and while you haven’t yet figured out at what time he arrives, he’s already got your schedule memorized, waiting for you with a coffee and a pastry.
“I wasn’t planning to,” you admit, “My parents are coming into town. They’ve moved into the countryside a few years back.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” He nods. “I hope you’re having a great time together.”
“We will.” You take a sip of coffee and can’t help the teasing comment slipping through your lips. “Aren’t you going to tell me that you’re going to play much worse now that I’m not there to cheer you on?”
“Your presence or lack thereof isn’t going to affect my game,” he tells you, voice serious, confidence so deeply laced into his tone it catches your breath, “But I prefer to celebrate my wins and losses with the people I care about.”
“O-oh…” you stammer, suddenly overwhelmed, “I… guess that makes sense. W-we can celebrate on Monday.”
-
“Girl, I don’t know how you do it,” your best friend comments and you can almost smell the alcohol on her breath - through the phone. “You decline every offer to have a relationship yet you have these fine men running after you? Why does this never work for me?”
“You can’t say no.”
“True.” She chuckles dryly. “But it’s a shame you didn’t get to watch that game. He was looking fine. I might not have understood all that much but he was doing well. At least if you believe the commentators.”
“I’m sure he did his best,” you tell her calmly, yet unable to keep from biting down on your fingernail.
“Don’t worry, I recorded it. I’m sending the file over now.”
Your home computer dings with an incoming mail and you heave a sigh.
“I don’t have time to watch it tonight. My parents just left and I’m exhausted.”
“Don’t tell me they asked you about grandchildren…”
You sigh again and she laughs.
“Go, take a nap. The world will look better in the morning.”
And it will… but you can’t help yourself, press play instead of going to bed as you intended.
And your friend is right.
Yaku looks good. He moves with the calm confidence of a professional.
If you could convince yourself that attraction is all it takes to lead a healthy relationship, you might have taken a leap of faith.
-
Staying up late comes back to bite you in the butt.
No amount of concealer can cover the dark rings under your eyes.
“Long weekend,” Yaku asks when he meets you in the Lobby, coffee and a pastry in hand.
“Mhm,” you nod and take a large sip of coffee, hoping for it to fuel you. It doesn’t.
You chat for a bit but you need to get going and so does he, so you part with the quickest of hugs.
There are only a few steps leading down to the elevators, steps you’ve taken day after day after day for years, but today, you miss the last one.
Your right foot lands wrong, pain shoots through your ankle and you yelp. Your half-empty coffee cup goes flying, just like your pastry and you can see the mess you’ve made but all you can do is cower and clutch your ankle.
“Are you okay?” Yaku’s voice cuts through the ringing in your ears. There’s worry in his eyes. It lights the cold fire of shame in your veins. God, you just rolled your ankle, there’s no reason to make a big fuss about it.
“Sure, yeah, all fine!” You tell him, grinding your teeth as you get up. Nausea wells up inside you but you swallow it down.
“We should get it looked at,” Yaku insists, hands hovering just a few inches above your skin.
“Stop worrying!” You bite out, tone harsher than necessary. But he doesn’t flinch.
“I know it’s a lot, but it will only take a minute, okay?” He insists, voice warm and soft and calming, like hot cocoa on a cold day. You can feel the tremor coming back, want nothing more than to sink into him.
“I’m fine,” you insist, taking one cautious step. It hurts, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.
“Yeah, for now.” He follows you, bends faster than you to pick up the coffee cup and the pastry. Someone’s going to have to mop the floor, but Yaku’s already waving at the receptionist and you’re too focused on grinding your teeth against the pain to complain.
“Stop worrying about me, okay?! We’re not that close.”
Hurt flickers over his face like candlelight.
“I’d do this for everyone,” he insists. “I don’t mess with accidents. Please? It’s only a short trip down the hall for a first check-up. If our doc thinks it’s nothing I won’t bother you anymore.”
You agree, mostly just to get this over with.
But it’s not nothing.
.
You must have fallen asleep, face pressed against the window of his car, because his hand is warm against your cheek and your name falls softly from his lips.
“Yaku?” You ask and he nods.
“We’re at the hospital. Can you walk?”
“Sure,” you insist, grind your teeth through the pain. Yaku must have seen through your lies, though, getting a wheeling chair at the next chance.
He’s with you through the whole ordeal and you hate it but you don’t ask him to leave you alone. His warm hand on your shoulder is the only thing that keeps you from crying.
He’s there until the very end when they plaster up your leg up to your knee and you can’t help but laugh at the fact that you’ve made it so far in life without a broken bone, yet a single missed step has changed it all.
“I’ll take you home now,” Yaku insists as soon as you’re back in his car. “Are you hungry? We can stop and get some food on the way.”
“I just want to sleep,” you admit. “Forget this happened.”
“I think that’s going to take some time. The plaster stays one for the three weeks.”
“Don’t remind me.”
.
It’s only when he parks in front of your apartment block that you realize.
You live on the fifth level. No elevator.
Stubbornly you grab your crutches and move toward the first step when Yaku stops you.
“Do you want to carry me up?”
“No!”
“Okay,” he nods. “But you can’t make that trek. Not today for sure, and not every day for the next three weeks. Do you have any friends you could stay at where that’s not a problem?
You hesitate. Most of your friends have similar apartments and if they don’t, they can’t offer more than an air-mattress on the floor for you to sleep on.
“You can sleep on my couch,” Yaku’s voice is low, soft, and casual. This is nothing big to him, not like it is to you.
“Or I carry you up and you have to take the next three weeks off because you cannot get up and down here without help.”
He’s right.
And it’s not that you have to work, you’re pretty sure you classify for sick leave at this point, not to mention that you have enough vacation days saved to take off half of the time without a problem.
In the end, you oblige. And because you want to pack your own things, you agree to a piggyback ride up the stairs.
If Yaku notices how your face is pressed into his neck, your tears soaking his shirt, he doesn’t mention it. His hands are warm and steady around your thighs and he carries you up without breaking a sweat, telling you a funny story to distract you all the way.
-
It’s weird. It’s cozy. It’s everything at the same time.
You get to go through his list watchlist - which feels more personal than going through his underwear drawer - and watch him prepare Dinner for the two of you.
You sit naked in his bathtub - door closed of course - and open the bottles of shower gel and shampoo to sniff at them like the crazy person you are but when the door opens and you limp outside he’s sitting at his desk practicing Russian, not even sparing your scrubbed clean form a glance.
Yaku’s switched his routine without a second thought, makes breakfast at home now and drives you to work.
He’s the best friend one could ask for, a man so good you wouldn’t believe he existed without the proof you have. But he has a hissy fit in front of you when his friend from school makes a joke about his size.
And maybe that’s the last straw, the last proof you needed.
Because people aren’t just always good. People are people, human and fallible, and there’s always something that makes them break their perfect facade.
For you, it’s the pain of having to rely on someone else.
For Yaku, it’s the pain of being looked down on.
-
Tomorrow your cast will come off.
Tomorrow you will move back into your own apartment.
You’re not sure how things between the two of you will be then.
But since there’s no way to turn back time, to go back to how things were before, you can try and find out how things could be instead.
“Yaku?” You ask into the silence of an early night.
“Yeah?” His voice is scratchy and sluggish like he’s just on the border of sleep.
“Are you still awake?”
“Am now.”
“What if I changed my mind?”
“About what?”
“Love.”
Silence. Then, the rustling of sheets and soft steps on the floor.
“Are you being serious?” He asks and his voice sounds so warm and excited, so young and full of anticipation.
“Yeah.”
“Well,” he clears his throat awkwardly, now only two steps away. “It depends if you mean me with that change of my mind. If you mean someone else I think I’ll have to get a lawyer before I answer.”
You laugh. “Yeah, I meant you.”
He giggles and there’s a slap as if he’s clamped a hand over his mouth urgently.
You turn a little on the Couch, try to make him out in the dark.
“Do you want to cuddle?” You ask and there’s the swoosh of quick movement as he leaps onto the Couch.
“Boy, do I ever!”
- - - xxx - - -
The air smells the same, but maybe it’s just the airport.
Yaku’s hand takes yours, warm and safe and well-known.
“Excited?” He asks, laughs when you pull a face.
“They’ll love you,” he insists and leans in to kiss you, not caring about all the people around you, or the fact that Kuroo’s going to be here any second to pick you up, or that your hair is a mess and you’re not wearing any make-up.
His lips are soft and warm, just like they were on that first night.
You sink into the touch and when his teeth graze your lower lip and the tremors come, you embrace them.
Even if you shiver, you’ll never freeze.
You’ve got Yaku there to warm you, after all.
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