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confessioncassette · 4 days

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The Belly of a Black Heart - Alastor x Reader

18+. minors do not interact.

thank you @lustylita for the inspiration of this fic. your mind is a beautiful place. everyone check out her art and her concept to this story here. all credits to her, this was not my idea.

part 2

summary : After an unsuspecting death, you end up in hell and at the Hazbin Hotel. You become dead set on redemption. Alastor's feelings towards you are confusing and it pisses him off more than he can handle. In result, unknowingly to him, his feelings manifest through his shadow.

tw : no smut this chapter. angst. alastor being a jerk. mild gore/wound

words : 5.3k

notes : i hope you enjoy this chapter <3

When you wake the next morning, your head is a blur. Sitting up in your bed you take a minute to look around your new living situation. It takes a second to understand that this isn’t the room you usually wake up in but, despite all of that, you feel good.

The reality of being in hell was hard on you yesterday. You’ve had your little breakdown and denial fest.. you won’t let that bother you today. Pushing past things is how you manage. Always one step at a time. Plus, you’re in a place that offers redemption now. What’s done is done and now you can focus on how to get into heaven and maybe sort out a plan there. With God or something, right?

He’s literally God, maybe he could help your situation on earth. You doubt anyone here could help you… or even want to help you.

No headaches, your body doesn’t burn… today feels like you can start fresh. Rolling to get out of bed, your eyes catch a bundle of red in the corner of your eye.

Three red peonies tied together in a bow lay delicately over your unoccupied pillow.

You examine the vibrant flowers and thumb around the stems. You wonder who was thoughtful enough to give a simple yet welcoming gift.

Alastor’s fleeting expression and charming smile snatches your memory from last night. Your face almost burns, remembering how close he was to you, his face grazing against your cheek, breath fanning over you as it does.

Smiling to yourself, you think today would be a good day to get back on track. Charlie is willing to help you, and you might learn more about the gentleman from last night. You can even thank him for the lovely flowers.

The hotel buzzes with life when you walk to the formal dining room. Delicious breakfast foods waft through the air. The warm smell of coffee buzzes through your body.

“C’mon Husky, don’t chya wanna try it? I’ve been slavin’ over this all mornin’ for ya!” A tall, fluffy man leans over the dining room table, sliding a plate of food to a grumpy cat.

“Fuck no! Satan knows what you put in there and I don’t wanna risk dying twice.” Taking a swig from a browned bottle, the cat pushes away the plate.

The tall man’s shoulder slump as he lets out a groan. “Fine, but one day you’re gunna try my cookin’ and you’ll love it. You might even beg for moore.” He teases, taking the plate for himself as Husk rolls his eyes.

“Oh, good morning! How was your first night?” Charlie beams from the head of the table and everyone’s heads swivel to you. Suddenly, you’re on the spot.

“It was great, thank you. I actually had the best sleep I’ve had in a while,” you smile, “I needed it.”

“Everyone welcome our new guest! She arrived late last night.”

It was a small creature with a giant eye who lunged herself toward you first. Her little legs patting the floor and up your body before you could react.

“I’m Nifty, I clean.” A sinister giggle erupts from her lips before the tall man who offered.. Husk is it?.. a plate gently and removes her from you.

“Hey doll, I’m Angel.”

Alastor watches from the hallway as the group introduces themselves to you. Hidden in the shadows, he watches you closely. The way you smile fondly towards people you barely know, how you embrace each one with a greeting. Clearly, you lighten the room. But you’re a mystery, and one he doesn’t want to get involved with.

Does he?

Your sweet doe eyes are burned in a memory. He couldn’t help but get close enough to smell you, and fuck, did your saccerine smell burn through his nostrils as well. He could see your panic, the reality of your new eternal life smacking you in the face… the frustration it caused you last night.

But were you really keen on redemption? He could see the light beam behind your eyes once you stood at the center of your room. You belong here, you’re here for a reason. It’s hell afterall. Every sinner who comes here belongs to this wretched place to burn forever. Surely Charlie’s delusions didn’t persuade you in one night?

Surely you’re not that…simple?

“Will Alastor be joining us for breakfast? He’s the only one I haven’t seen this morning.” Alastor ears perk up at your voice from afar.

“Ehh, smiles doesn’t usually eat with us. Probably up in his room going to town on some animal he caught this mornin’.” Angel grimaces.

Watching your reaction closely, the slight fall of your face doesn’t go unnoticed. But you’re quick to recover with a smile and dig in with everyone else.

“Okay everyone! Gather around! Today we will be learning about each other.” Charlie’s hand gestures to you on the couch as everyone else filters into the common room.

Angel plops himself over the couch’s armchair next to you, stretching his long legs over your thighs. Husk mopes in the room, bottle in hand and leans against the fireplace. Nifty props herself over the table happily swinging her legs and Vaggie stands beside her partner, eyeing everyone down.

Your eyes carefully glance around the room, trying not to bring attention that you’re looking for Alastor. From your comment at breakfast before, you don’t want to keep bringing the man up to avoid conversations you don’t want to have.

But it fails.

“Looking for tall dark and creepy?” Angel shimmies his chest and throws you a wink.

Rolling your eyes you push playfully at Angel’s leg. “No, just making sure everyone is here.” Giving him a side eye you whisper, “nosey.”

Angel laughs and gives you a nudge, “Well looks like you’re in luck toots, looks who’s comin’.”

Perking up, you watch Alastor’s tall form stride in the room and take a seat in an armchair directly across from you. His smile is wide, but it seems strained? Folding one leg over the other, he relaxes back into his seat. His eyes scan the room, probably checking for roll-call, before landing directly over you.

You give a smile but he doesn’t react.

“Okay! Now that everyone is here, we will be telling 2 truths and a lie. Everyone will say two truths about themselves and one lie. The group will have to guess which one is a lie. So fun!” Charlie claps.

“I don’t want to put our new guest on the spot, so let’s start with Husk.”

A low groan emits from the fireplace where Husk stands. He really looks like he doesn’t want to be here, but maybe he’s been here long enough to know that he has to participate.

“Alright, uh, I can down a whole bottle of whiskey with no reaction, I suck at dice games, and I hate water.”

“I’ll give you something to down, Husky~” Angel tosses his head back and blows him a kiss.

“For fuckssake,” Husk rolls his eyes.

“Oh oh! I know, the lie is he hates water! I’ve seen him take bubble baths at night.” Nifty giggles sinisterly.

“Okay good job, Nifty.” Vaggie cringes and turns her attention to you, “Would you like to give it a try next?”

Glancing between her and Alastor’s heavy stare, has he been looking at you this whole time? You shrug. “Sure, I'll give it a shot. Let me think…” You hum.

“I’ve been in hell for a long time, I love to dance and I’m pretty good at it, and I stole drugs when I was alive.” You’re not that great with coming up with things on the spot, but you gave it your best shot. First things that came to your mind and all without being too personal.

Angel drags out a hum, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you can dance. Not sure if I would paint you as someone who would steal. You act like Miss-goodie-two-shoes’s-distant relative over there. I’m gunna go with that one.”

You couldn’t help but contain your smile, you could have sworn that your appearance gave you away that you literally died just yesterday.

“Nope! I died yesterday and found this place last night. Thank god I saw your commercial, I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t.”

Angel’s mouth drops open and leans forward. “Hold on, you’re like, super fresh? No kiddin’. So… you stole drugs?” He looks you up and down, “can you do it again?”

“Matter of fact, we don’t know much about you. Anything at all really. I’ll take it you’re here because you stole, but there’s gotta be more than that.” Husk examines his bottle.

You shift in your seat uncomfortably. “Yeah, I stole but- I don’t know.” Memories of stealing drugs, scamming people for money flood your mind. That stuff was bad, but did it really land you here in hell? I’m sure it’s a part of the 10 commandments or sins or whatever…

The man. Your knife.

You killed someone right before dying.

“What drugs do you like? I got some good connections. We could totally-”

“No! Nonono, no one is going to do that. Say no to drugs! Remember we are trying to get redeemed?” Charlie’s arms wave frantically as she lets out a nervous laugh.

It was all for protection. You never wanted to hurt anyone like that before, it’s not like you wake up blood thirty for killing. It was self defense.

Guilt bubbles within your gut, and it’s getting hard to breathe. Would they even care if you killed? You’re sure almost everyone in hell has killed, even in the afterlife.

“C’mon, toots, tell us a little about yourself. This is about sharing after-all,” Angel teases. “I wanna know all the shit you did when you were alive! You sound like a good time, Y’know my girl buddy would love you-”

“I think that’s enough for today.” A staticy voice interrupts the conversation. Your head swivels to meet the demon who carries a strained smile. The hair on his ears stick up in a frenzy while his claws grip over the top of his microphone cane.

“But Alastor we barely got star-”

“I think,” Alastors voice grows with static, every word pronounced precisely, “that is enough for today.”

Angel's legs slide off you as he stands to stretch, “Aww what a buzzkill.”

Before you have the chance to leave the room, your face is met with Alastor’s chest.

He lifts his chin, but his eyes bore down at yours. Your eyes shoot wide with the proximity, and something within his chest spurs as wait for him to speak.

“I would like to speak with you privately, my dear.”

Following him up the stairs and into his radio tower, you tread lightly in new territory. Papers over his desk are neatly stacked next to a forgotten cup of coffee. The walls are floor to ceiling windows overlooking Pride, you’ve come to know. Dusk stretches the horizon and little dots of light twinkle in the distance over the city. On the other side of the room, old equipment lined the wall. Hundreds of knobs and switches cover the machines and you wonder how he’s able to work such equipment. Speakers, extra microphones sat upon a bookshelf along with books, magazines and other nic-nacs you’re sure he has collected through the years.

You’re not sure how old the demon is, and you’re not sure how you haven’t thought about it since meeting him, especially when he has taken up most of your mind these past 24 hours.

You guess he’s from the roaring 20’s? 30’s? He’s dressed sophisticatedly with not a hair out of place. His posture paints him a perfect gentleman in a society where it mattered. His transatlantic accent was smooth and you long to hear it more than you should, or do. And guessing by this set up, the ON AIR sign that hangs directly over his desk, you could be right.

But what of this demon? What is his story? You’ll put a pin in it and ask angel later-

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here so I’ll cut to the chase.” Alastor’s arms are neatly behind his back as he looks over Pride. Without turning to you, he continues.

“I’m looking for more help around the hotel. Husk’s job is primarily tending to the bar, Nifty cleans and Charlie is over her head with trying to recruit sinners. I’d like to say that I have everything handled with paperwork and trying to keep this pace afloat, but I don’t.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. He.. can’t handle it all? He definitely gives the calm, cool collected attitude of one who would never need help.

“So, you need my help? I thought I was just a sinner trying to get redemption?”

Alastor stiffens for a moment before turning to you. “I thought you should know that Charlie and I had a discussion earlier. We think that you fit into the family seamlessly. We both thought you would be great at helping us with our little project.” He tilts his head, scanning you over, “Unless you don’t want to?”

You shake your head. This might not be a bad idea. This could actually help you in more ways than one. This could help you more with gaining redemption and be a part of a bigger picture.

“No, that all sounds great actually. What exactly do you have in mind for me to help you with?”

“More of the mundane things like checking over the hotel to make sure everything is in order, placing orders for food, toilet paper - the essentials.”

“So the mundane things you don’t want to do?” You laugh lightheartedly. “Sure, Alastor, I can do that for you. Do you have a check list for me?”

In one snap, Alastor conjures up a daily ‘to-do” list for you. Your eyes widen at his magic.

“If you can do that, why can’t you make food and toilet paper appear instead of ordering it?”

His smile is smug, “It’s a lot more complicated than that, little doe”

Turning on your heel, you say over your shoulder, “One day, I’d like to properly thank you for the flowers you left me.”

He watches you disappear through the doorway, confusion carved over his face. Flowers?

What an interesting thing to say… An odd woman.

Woman. Your presence had been the first in his studio.

Charlie and the guests know that no one is allowed in this room, for it’s locked 24/7. This room is his pride, his sanctuary and the one thing he’s carried on since dying. Besides killing and torturing innocent people, he supposes.

Clawing at the staff of his cane he shakes the thought of your company being… comforting.

His ear twitches in frustration. This foreign feeling- this odd hunger for catching your eye in a sea of others, to smell you near has become a twisted form of entertainment. He has to ignore the way his lower belly heats and aches when you're near…Is it entertainment? He stares at the door where you just stood.

Is his curiosity growing in the little moments you spend together or is it something he can’t pinpoint? His facade will fail to hold if he continues like this.

A predator assessing his pray like it’s a game. Except, it doesn’t feel like that kind of a hunt.

Stepping out from the bathroom after your nighttime routine, a darkness catches the corner of your eye.

“Hello?” you call out.

The darkness in the corner slithers across the floor and manifests itself in the center of your room.

You curse under your breath, while it’s not the craziest thing you’ve seen, it’s definitely unexpected.

“Um, hello there…” You stay standing in the doorway of your bathroom. Looking the creature over as it stands tall.

The creature, no, shadow, is dark, but you can make out that its body is made up of swirling smoke. It’s face gives a chiseled smile, imitating teeth through the smoke, and resting on top of it’s head were a pair of outgrown antlers that stretch wide.

You tilt your head at the creature, curious on why it hasn’t responded to you.

It tilts his head back, mimicking your movement.

“Cute,” you giggle, “what are you?”

The shadows' eyes glow green in response and gives you a bigger grin.

“Are you here at the hotel too? I just got here yesterday…” you shift on the balls of your feet. “Do you have a name?”

The shadow dissipates into the ground and for a moment, you’re spooked. Backing up into your bathroom, a coldness caresses your neck from behind.

Spinning around fast, you’re met with it again. The creature folds forward to meet your face.

Oh fuck no.

You fumble backwards a little too fast but the creature is quick to catch you by an arm. It steadies you easily.

“You’re.. Good, right? Friend?” The words fall stupidly out of your mouth. You feel like you’re talking to a child in simple words and a sweet voice. God knows that this creature is probably thousands of years old but you’re speaking to it like it lacks some form of intelligence.

The creature smiles and nods, backing away from you before wisping itself around your body in a cloud of smoke.

Warmth surrounds your body, unlike the coldness around your neck from before.

“Friend, okay…good.” You smile and embrace the dance it gives you.

The creature manifests itself over in front of your nightstand and the bundle of shadows steps aside to reveal the red peonies from this morning. Your eyebrows raise and realization hits you.

“That was you? What a lovely gift to give.. To me.” Surprise followed by stupidity hits you in the last bit of that sentence.

How could you be so stupid to think Alastor would give you those flowers? He hasn’t even spent much time around you, let alone want to speak to you. Every time you’re in the vicinity of him, he pretends you don’t exist.

Foolish.

Foolish to think that he would even take a liking to you.

And you mentioned it to him hours ago… God, he’s probably so confused and you look like a fucking idiot.

The shadow slumps at your reaction. Its swirls grow faster over its body, like the wheels in its head are thinking of a way to cheer you up.

Warmth caresses around your hips and playfully drags you to your bed. You let it happen because, for some ungodly reason, you trust this shadow.

It’s gentle hand lingers over your face, brushing over the skin of your cheek. A familiar feeling. Almost like the feeling of last night when Alastor’s-

No.

The creature lifts your chin to look at him as he takes a seat by you on the bed and you mentally brush away the cringe.

You both stare at each other for a moment. You're entranced by its odd behavior. Although, its presence feels familiar, a kind of nostalgia you cannot place. His warmth feels like a gentle hug, a friend in the darkness when you're alone.

The faint smell of whiskey, a bar of soap and lemongrass.

A warm song that dances inside your nostrils.

Your room is quiet, as you let the shadow tickle your face and neck.

Soft music begins to play when your eyes fight sleep. But you give into the lull of the shadows lullaby.

From that first night of meeting the creature, you’re woken up gently by it patting your head and urging you to get dressed. Funny enough, the creature disappears while you get ready, giving you privacy. But ultimately, you wouldn’t mind it at all if it stayed.

One night, after a particularly hard day working under Alastor, you named the being.

Umbra.

Not the most creative, but it was the first thing that popped in your head… and he, you’ve come to find out, was quite happy with the new nickname.

You weren’t sure where he came from, what he is, or what manifested himself to you that night, but you’re thankful for the company.

Umbra was quiet. He never spoke, but damn is he funny. Every night, he meets you in your room practically bouncing off the walls, or more so sliding everywhere in a mist of shadows and patiently listens when you talk about your day.

Every morning you wake up with new little flowers over your unoccupied pillow. Each of them a bundle of red, for some reason. But lovely all the same.

It became a nightly routine to where he’ll lull you to sleep with gentle caresses and soft old-timey music.

And it’s given you the best sleep of your life.

Alastor however, has been more distant than before. When asking for new lists everyday, he’ll stare down at you through lowered eyelids and hand you a list bigger than the last.

He never questioned your flowers comment, but you’re sure he hasn’t forgotten.

Though, through his aloof attitude, he still invades your personal space when talking to you - and he only talks to you when it’s absolutely needed. His stare burns new holes through you everyday before he locks himself up in his radio tower until dinner or Charlie's group exercises.

“Smiles has been such a fucking jerk lately, what did you do to’m?” Angel slumps over the armchair, preoccupied with texting.

“Me? He hardly talks to me! Everyday he’ll just hand me a list to do and disappears.”

“That’s exactly the problem, ever since he’s offered you a job here he’s been acting like there's a stick up his ass more than normal. You must being doin’ shit at your job.” He nudges you and you both laugh.

“Yeah, no idea. I try to talk to him. He’s the one person in this whole place I don’t even know about… but he ignores me.”

“I don’t think he completely ignores you, doll face. Do you notice how you’re the only thing he can look at when you’re around? Hard to get him to help Charlie lately, too.”

You blush and drag your gaze to the floor. “No, I didn’t notice that. What’s his deal anyways?”

Angel went into detail about how Alastor wa/is one of the most powerful overlords in the Pride ring. 7 years ago he disappeared or some shit but 7 months ago he came back and randomly ended up here. Some bullshit about wanting to help Charlie with her ridiculous delusions about saving a sinner. He’s just here for the ‘entertainment’, but he’s been a big help honestly. Especially in his battle during the extermination - before he got wounded.

Wounded? He could get hurt? A powerful overlord who has thousands of contracted souls could get… hurt? But there airs another question…

He doesn’t believe in redemption?

Your thoughts were cut short by a shadow carrying a mischievous grin lurking in the hallway. Umbra swirls in a mist of shadows as his eyes glow green and gestures for you to follow him.

Raising from the couch you head his way.

“Maybe he just needs some good head!” Angel calls out to you.

You follow Umbra as he slithers over the carpet, manifests himself over the walls and guides you upstairs. His cute grin makes you laugh, and you're excited to see what he has in store for you today.

Not noticing that you pass your own room, your eyes only watching Umbra flee with excitement, he leads you to a door at the end of a hallway. He turns to you, looking you once over and dissipates through the door.

Knowing you want him to follow, and without a second thought, your hand turns the knob and you fly inside Alastor’s radio room.

There, hunched over his desk wearing only his long sleeve undershirt and pants, Alastor’s back is turned to you.

“Who the fuck,” Alastor’s head turns over his shoulder, black eyes blown wide as his red pupils snap to you.

“Alastor- shit, I’m,” you back away, accidentally shutting the door behind you.

“Has anyone taught you proper manners? Don’t you know that walking in on someone is-” Every word cuts through you like a knife, the static in his voice grows louder in every syllable. The lights flicker around you as Alastor’s body grows larger in scale, his antlers growing wide.

“I didn’t know!” You yell honestly, you didn't know. Or, you weren’t paying attention.

“The door was locked, how did you get in here?” Red liquid oozes out of his mouth as his empty black eyes stare you down. But you’re not looking at the anger on his face, or the way his body engulfs the room. No, you're looking at how his arm covers a wound on his side. Your eyes scan to the side, where ointments and bandages lay askew over his desk.

“You’re hurt, Alastor.”

The radio demon stops, and for a moment, you catch surprise painted in his features.

“Let me help?” You offer, taking a step forward.

He doesn’t move.

“Get out.”

You step forward, unafraid of his form. He's hurt, and you can see the blood squelching against his hand, dripping to the floor.

You reach out, covering your hand over his bloodied one and your eyes flicker upwards to the beast before you.

A silent plea to let him help. If he’s been doing this on his own since the extermination, he hasn’t been doing a great job at mending it.

He gives a frustrated sigh, and shrinks back down to his normal self. Internally rolling your eyes at how easy that was to do… an all powerful overlord listening to you was a confidence booster to say the least.

You look down to assess the wound. His red undershirt wet and stained with blood on the right side of his torso.

You flash him a look for silent permission, and he nods ever so slightly, his eyes fixated on your face. You begin to unbutton his shirt from the top down. You scan your fingers delicately over his chest and down towards the wound. Alastor lets out a shaky sigh that goes unnoticed by you.

You expose his torso more by opening up his shirt to get a better look. Alastor leans back in his chair and curves his hips upwards ever so faintly. You swallow, fighting the demons in your head to take a closer look at his exposed body.

“Looks… bad.” You manage to say, focusing only on the wound before gentle fingers slide under your chin and angle your face upwards so he can see you fully.

And you swear, that for a moment, something swirls deep within his gaze. Something more than he lets on. A flash of hope? Eagerness?

Now’s not the time.

You clear your throat before grabbing supplies and getting to work.

Alastor was silent as you mended him. His eyes never left your face as you cleaned the wound and bandaged it neatly.

“All better!” You chime, doing your best to ignore the buzz on your chin from his touch, “Next time you try to do this yourself, try to find me? I don’t think it’s healed right for at least a couple weeks. You’re lucky it hasn’t gotten infected.”

“We’re in hell, dear, I’m sure there’s worse things to worry about than an infected wound.”

He didn’t even bother to say thank you.

Is this the sophisticated and well-mannered demon Charlie raved about? The helpful demon that made this hotel?

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding and your shoulders shrug downward.

“Is there a reason why you’ve been so avoidant since I arrived? Everyone has been talking about how you’ve been acting differently since I showed up. Why is that? Did I do anything to you?” You avoid his eye contact by putting away the medical supplies inside a metal box.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. I’ve always been the same.” He leans back in his chair.

Something doesn’t add up.

“Everyone talks about how you’re this powerful overlord, yet you lock yourself up in this tower all day and night. They all talk about how you were always around and ever since me you’re nowhere to be found.”

“I’d watch your mouth, little doe.” He snarls, but doesn’t move from his chair.

You stand, and for once you’re just taller than him even when he’s sitting down. Stories you’ve heard, the things the other residents say about him - nothing is adding up. Angel even went out of his way to ask what the fuck you did to him to act like this.

“I can’t help but think that you’re trying to avoid me. Are you scared of me or something? Or do you just like to see me do all of your bitch work so you don’t have to look at me?”

“And why,” Alastor stands, towering over you. You never realized how much taller and broader he is compared to you. His entire frame engulfs your size. “Would I be scared of a pathetic, weak sinner who died so easily doing something so reckless and ended up here?”

A beat, “I’d go far as to say you’re forgettable in this cesspool. Why would I go out of my way to avoid that?” He hums, lowering to your level at the waist. You want to punch that smug smile on his face.

You ball your fists and keep his eye contact. You scrunch up your nose and grind out every word with anger, “That’s hilarious coming from someone who did the same. Not so different, you and I.”

You didn’t care enough to see his expression before turning on your heel and head straight to your room.

Sinking onto your bed, you throw your head between your hands with a groan.

Asshole. Fucking asshole.

It doesn't take long before a presence in front of you lingers, and a warm caress slithers over your cheek.

“Not now, Umrba. I’m not in the mood.”

Umbra’s smokey hand tugs gently at your arm, pulling it forward and causing your head to droop. You allow him to pull you up and into an embrace.

Scents of whiskey, soap and lemongrass once again fill your head. A lovely haze that you’ve come to cherish. A friend.

A comfort.

A beautiful melody fills the air, and swallows you whole. Umbra’s body shakes with a staticy old tune.

“I’ll never smile again, until I smile at you” The voices sing a beautiful sorrowful melody, filling the air. Umbra’s arms skate over you and places his hands in yours.

The stance of a dance.

Umbra guides your one arm over his back, there he rests the other around your waist. A close embrace that you happily welcome.

“For tears would fill my eyes, my heart would realize…”

Guiding your hips in a gentle sway, you rest your cheek on his torso. The both of you sway to the melody slowly in your dimly lit room.

And, like always, the shadow doesn’t say a word. And maybe you like it that way. With all the chaos pounding loudly in your head, Umbra can always grant you the safe space you need. No judgment, no games.

No words.

Umbra pulls you around in a dizzying spin on your toes, earning a giggle from you. The music crescendos softly.

“I’ll never love again, I’m so in love with you…”

Guiding you around your room, you follow his lead. Wisps of smoke trail after him and curl at the bottom of your feet. Warmth is all you can feel.

You’re picked up swiftly and spun like a child before being placed softly in your bed. Umbra continues to play the melody until you are cast away in blissful sleep.

“Within my heart, I know I will never start to smile again, until I smile at you.”

taglist : @hazbinsimp777 @rapturenyx @kaytemchugh

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor #alastor x reader smut #alastor hazbin hotel

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

Text

D- Rations

A Sarge and lil Mama fic -Elvis Fanfiction

Co-Author credit to @prompted-wordsmith this was a delight to work on with you darling, thank you for the prompt that began a most glorious alliance and for all the delicious sentences you added here-in 🤍

Summary: Germany, early spring 1959, Elvis and Elaine begin to find a routine, the first true domestic routine of their married lives, and as is common with young lovers who are just now fully getting to know each other, they are both besotted and a little foolish

Warnings: 18+ || illusions made to free use sex, illusions made to drug dependency and withdrawals, harlots being harlots about Elvis to Elaine who is fabulous as ever, a very descriptive scene of masturbation and marital misunderstandings that will be resolved (don’t shoot me)

AU Family Plan Reminder: the firstborn twins, Jesse and Ella are already born, and in this fic the second set are cookin’ ☺️

Elvis isn’t sure he’ll ever forget the shocked squeak Elaine let out that first time he flipped up her skirt at the sink and thrust in, no warning he was even home.

“Sorry baby, withdrawls an’ all.” he had gritted out hoarsely before jabbing up into his saint of a wife, soapy suds drifting upwards in front of the window, rainbow bubbles floating around them as her grip on the soap bottle collapsed it in her fist.

“Use me, Elvis.” she’d told him after the first few weeks in Germany had alerted her to a new addition in his bedtime regimen.

A boatload of pills.

“I can’t sleep baby, I can’t sleep any nights at all without ‘em, wasn't functioning.” he told her and she was sympathetic, always so sympathetic to him. Closest thing on earth to his mama.

But, logistics coordinator that she was, she saw the need for an alternative remedy to replace the offending one and reached it with no fanfare. “I’m here now. Use me,” She had said, already pulling him out of his jocks when he went to reach for his water glass to swallow his dose.

Not even on the wedding night had she ridden him that dry. He felt like he’d woken up in a different year the next morning, so deep and dead was his sleep. He’d staggered onto base and sweated it out there during the day. Sweat like a whore in church and came back to the house they rented where she fed him, laid him on the couch and put the babies atop him, supplied with books, a glitching television and love.

Visitors were banned, besides family, and those she policed into uncharacteristic considerateness. And at night, when she was tired from nursing children and running a house and answering fan mail and cooking his meals, she spread herself open for him to take out every ounce of his misery on her poor little cunt. There were times when it wasn’t enough, he would lay there spilling water on himself as she tried to rehydrate him, and those were the nights he spent in the bath, with her nestled behind him, singing to him and swathing his burning head with washcloths and kisses.

“Remember this feeling next time someone dishes you out one of those fancy pharmaceuticals.” she whispered once as he moaned and shivered in the bathwater. There was no true chiding there, just a pity for him that he knew was genuine enough to not find offense with.

But eventually his vigor came back, slowly, but it came back. And he took it out on her in the early mornings when she wasn’t awake until he’d been at it for a bit, the afternoons on the kitchen table during his furloughs, back behind the barracks one time while paying a private to fill in for him at sentry duty, and night after night in their marriage bed till suddenly the breasts he sucked and bit were swollen and sore and he knew something good had come of this.

It was swapping one addiction for another, he suspected, somehow losing interest in the pills but finding himself more and more obsessed with the squelching grip of his wife’s lil house. But the joy on her face when he began to hint to her the subtle changes he noticed–the child they’d made yet again, it mattered little to either that she was worn puffy and pink from so much usage. There was nothing so dear and darling to him as this little family they’d built, if he needed his wife to perform her duties every day, sometimes many times a day, surely that went with the territory.

Thusly they have fallen into a routine these past few months, the new little Presley family, and Elaine finds that she is happier and more content in it than she ever imagined. After every harrowing trial thrown at them in the first year of marriage, the shock of intimacy, the glare of the press, the wrath of the Colonel, the morning sickness, the separations, the birth, the stitch and her spunky Atlantic crossing, Elaine sits now with shoulders a little straighter, smile a little more sure, children hale and happy, her belly swollen with another promise kept.

She is satisfied, she is happy, and something about the normality of this current life with Elvis gives her a pressing sense of urgency to savor it while it lasts. It’s not every day he’ll be home before 7:00 in the evening, napping upstairs before dinner while she winds down the little soirée she was hosting for some of the wives of the fellow soldiers. She has to remind herself there will be a time in the future when she’ll be dreaming of hosting these two harpies in the form of Susan and Doris when she’s trapped at a table with a starlet or a socialite. But jealousy has no class, no boundaries, and what was once a rather pleasant if inane brunch has devolved into a verbal fencing match, disguised with sickening sweet concern -as is the age old custom of what the preacher back in Memphis would charitably call ungodly women, and if her manners were less engrained in her she would much more uncharitably call harlots.

It feels rather like she joined a competition without realizing it, and right about now she wishes she could bail if she only knew what it’s all about. Except, she does know. She knows that no matter how often she hosts folks into their home, no matter how many hands she shakes at the Graceland gates or how many hours of her husband’s prized time she sacrifices to the public, there’s always going to be a few who seethe at the mere existence of a Mrs. Elvis Presley.

That gleaming wedding band on his finger was quite easy to ignore while the wife was an ocean away and the lonely, sultry, uniformed heartthrob was throwing his parties and acclimating to life in Germany. But it’s a very different thing for Doris and Susan to sit across from the woman herself, polished, beautiful and adorned with both finery and visible proof of her husband's interest. A woman whose children look so startling like their father it’s uncanny, and whose placid indifference to their barbs has driven them to bare faced insulting her in her own home while the man they crave is upstairs sleeping off a night he spent balls deep inside her.

Elaine knows this. And so she can lounge back, legs crossed gracefully and bracelets jangling subtly as she swirls her glass and she listens with bemused ire to Doris’ newest concern over whether or not she’s been overextending herself.

“Oh, there's some dust on this sill!” Doris’ tone suggests that this is cause for grave alarm, “It must be difficult,” she goes on, tone solicitous as Elaine rattles the last of her ice cubes with her finishing chug, “keeping up with the housework when you've got children underfoot, and so many guests all the time. Elvis does love his parties, doesn't he? But that must wear you down, poor thing.”

There haven’t been many parties since Elaine arrived and Doris knows it. No doubt the majority of Frankfurt thinks Elaine is a joy-killing puritan, but if that’s the cost of keeping her husband’s dignity intact while he overcame his addiction, so be it.

Elvis himself overhears this last bit of conversation while rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking over the upstairs bannister at the unsuspecting little group down below. His sleep muddled brain second guesses the sirens he hears going off when registering the saccharine toned patronage of her guests. He stays quiet and watches from above as his wife just shrugs, forever unbothered.

“I’ve missed the parties!” Susan opts for a more truthful barb, and Elaine quirks a perfectly manicured brow at what she suspects is coming next. “There used to be such wild good times back when he was staying with the Major, always had the old vitriola going and was spinning gals around till all hours of the night. He once commented I was light as a feather, ya know that? Said I had a lovely figure -it’s a real shame that you're losing yours to that new babe. Heavens, I bet you barely feel like waddling most days, much less dancing."

Elvis may have been raised right but he feels ready to brawl with these ladies on hearing those words. Elaine spent about 36 minutes straight riding him this morning like it was the Kentucky derby, then made omelets for him and the boys, proceeding then to host this charming little party -there was nothing waddling or decrepit about his pretty young wife and he’s ready to descend the stairs and show some erstwhile dancing companions the door when he hears Elaine, gentle and sweet as a honey-soaked knife:

"Oh, my husband, he missed me so much, Doris. Sometimes he distracts me, you know, and I take my wifely duties very seriously, tend to prioritize his satisfaction above all else. My Elvis has promised me a whole baseball team, ya see, and he's taken that very seriously, too. Graceland, our home back in Memphis–so beautiful, really Susan, you should see it–it’s so big we certainly have enough rooms for them all. I always wanted a large family, and so has my husband. Do you think we should hire staff here, like we do at Graceland? This house isn't nearly as sprawling, but if I'm in the family way as often as he predicts then I expect I’ll tire sometimes. Like today, getting ready to have you over and then the mayor and his wife tomorrow, I must have missed that sill. Public relations, you know, shockingly taxing things. There’s been a great deal of fuss and emphasis put on the importance of our presence here and mixing with the locals and such, they say a good integration of stationed troops with the citizenry could go a long way in reconciling the old rifts. It’s a lot to be riding on my potato salad.” she laughs merrily, “But forgive me, I’ve been rambling, you were saying something about me being worn down? That’s too kind, Doris, really, you mustn’t worry yourself about me,” Elaine coos, and Elvis finds this deliciously venomous side to his sweet wife so arousingly foreign he slumps to a seat on the stairs, most of his blood flow rushing south.

“I tend to feel invigorated with a child in me. I told the doctors it must be all that vitamin E,” she titters at their shocked faces over the rim of her empty glass, using his own joke against them. That shuts both the harpies right up, she thinks in satisfaction, tapping her wedding band ever so subtly against her glass, just a shift of her grip–and wouldn’t you know, both Doris and Susan’s eyes hone in on the massive diamond on her well-manicured hand. Sometimes Elvis’s love for the dramatic can be very useful indeed.

Elvis is met with a dilemma, then, as he listens to his wife verbally lay down the law on these women: does he go downstairs with his cock practically a service weapon down his pantleg, or does he go back upstairs and wring himself dry? He looks skyward as if the ceiling will answer him, but he finds himself snapped out of his thoughts, levering himself up and shuffling down into the living room when he hears the next thing those damned floozies say to his lil wife.

“Graceland sounds very grand, Elaine,” he thinks that’s Susan at it again, “you must feel so out of place there, so out of your depth with all his star friends and that celebrity lifestyle. I mean, you were practically a nobody before all this! It must be so overwhelming,” she insists.

If Elaine were capable of making so inelegant a sound as a snort, he’d assume that’s the noise he just heard coming from her, “Susan darling, a house is like any other house, it’s not a maze. Graceland’s got toilets and sinks and beds like any other, sure it’s got a microwave and fridge, too, all the latest gadgets–Elvis insisted. Didn’t take long to learn my way around my own house.”

“I’m sure Elvis hoped for only the finest for his house.” Susan’s tone suggests Elaine might not be counted amongst the finest, and Elvis is reminded why he’s headed downstairs in the first place, painful cockstand jostling with every step.

“It’s my house, actually.”

Only Elaine could make such blatant marking of territory sound so utterly charming. Or maybe it’s only charming to his blood deprived brain as he alights from the last step and spins towards the couch his wife is currently lounging on, finding her red painted lips stretched in a serenely smug smile.

“Why hello there, sleepy head,” she greets him, sweet and gentle as ever as Doris and Susan’s heads swivel in a near 180 to confirm his presence.

“Hey you.” Elaine has grown familiar but never used to that adoring tone of his when he addresses her, the way his tongue lingers lovingly and his voice dips, the way his eyes droop, too, even after the shortest of separations, even after a nap. “Good evenin, ladies,” he acknowledges her guests on his way to sit by her, only greeting the harpies because they are her guests, even if he’s down here to see that they skedaddle–ASAP.

“Good evening, Elvis!”

“Hi, Elvis!”

He notices that, unabashed, they smile and flutter their lashes at him as he passes, thinking he either did not hear, or did not care, that they were undermining his woman. The woman he married afore God, in the presence of his family, in his own living room.

“They were askin’ about how huge Graceland is, baby,” Elaine fills him in genially as he plops down beside her, allowing him to scoop up her little footsies and put them in his lap, a throw pillow snagged for good measure to hide the titanium grade hard-on he’s sporting in his slacks.

She wiggles her heel against him–he’s been found out. Her smirk grows.

“Elaine was saying that Graceland is legally hers…” Doris’ cadence suggests she expects him to come to her aid and laugh at that, to agree that such a thing is absurd. But Elaine never brags over something that isn’t true, it’s one of the things he loves about her, her faultless honesty.

“It is hers,” he makes sure to shrug, to keep his body language infuriatingly nonchalant as he lets her ankle rest right where he’s aching, “Belongs to her, signed in ink. Weddin’ present of sorts.”

He smiles dreamily at the memory of those rushed, hazy, tender weeks that preceded their sneaky union. One of the most rebellious things he ever did was marry this intelligent little woman, and the populace at large doesn’t even know it. He’ll never quite forget the Colonel's face when he returned to Memphis to find Elvis sitting at breakfast beside his newly deflowered bride and Vernon reading the paper that had somehow leaked the damn event.

Funny enough, Doris and Susan seem to lose their appetite for chit chat real fast after that. Maybe it’s the intimate way he strokes Elaine’s feet or lays his head on her shoulder, the cacophony of their twins playing in the next room or the way Elaine won’t rise to the damn bait no matter what. Either way, it’s not more than ten minutes before Elaine’s slightly suggestive:

“Lord, look at the time, I oughta feed this man of mine before he starves.”

is seized as a happy excuse to flee from the Presley home and back to wherever it is that women like them, who have no man to feed, go to pine over another woman’s husband.

Elaine walks those two backstabbers politely to the door, waving before shutting it after them. Then it is that his wife, the little darling of his heart, turns to him, hand on the knob and a cheeky smile on her face,

“Is there somethin I can assist you with, sir?” she teases gleefully, eyeing the cushion he clutches to his lap, “Or do you just find cotton batting ever so snuggly?”

He could eat her alive, damn the dinner. This little glimpse into her world, not the one he’s watched her navigate at RCA or on the Committee, no, this world of women with women, and to see her capable, cultivated viciousness?

Oh, oh he wants and yet, yet somehow he finds himself thinking of dusty window sills.

Dusty window sills and pretty pink petals fucked raw and puffy from overuse. She doesn’t know any better, she doesn’t know any different. That a husband taking her every hour of the day at whim like poets take pills is something that most would find an abuse of power. Not good. Not proper. Not even decent husbandry. But he knows better, he’s the one who knows and he’s the protector in this relationship, and he thinks about just how much he’s taken and taken these past few weeks with her shrieks stifled in the palm of his hand, and so he just grins back and shakes his head,

“Dinner would be lovely, darlin,” he assures, despite watching confusion crumple her pretty face, “Whatcha plannin for tonight?”

“That roast lamb Mrs. Niehouse-the deputies’ wife- sent us,” she replies absently, her eyes ever so puzzled.

Dusty window sills. Raw, pink petals.

He gets up and shakes out his leg, meets her halfway as she is walking towards the kitchen, grabbing hold of her shoulders and kissing her temple,

“I think you’re magnificent, ya know that?” he whispers and feels her shiver under his arm, “M’gonna go answer some mail,” he informs her, before going back upstairs. He flees from her perfection because if he doesn’t he’ll feel guilty as all hell when he inevitably finds his way into her wet heat on that chaise couch they were just sitting on, and so he bounds up the stairs like he’s got hounds on his heels.

She doesn’t holler out after him a time to come down by, nor does she pinch his butt through the railing as he passes. She knows something is off, she’s puzzled, maybe even hurt by it. But no, he tells himself, enough, she’s done enough.

The scent of garlic roasted lamb floats upwards with the heat, mouthwatering smells of buttery mashed potatoes swirling to the top floor, and Elvis lays up there, stifling that delicious smell with his wife’s used, silk intimates, committedly wringing out his cock with his hand. The fantasies change over the years, over the days, with newly acquired tastes and knowledge, but the punchline is always the same. It’s always Elaine, his cock and Elaine taking it, any which way. It’s always her fluttering pink hole and the white drip of him trickling out, just to get shoved back in. That’s the fantasy, has been since before he dared tell her, and it is now, even as he abstains from what is technically his right.

Dinner is nearly ready, but for some reason, Elaine doesn't feel like hollering that up to him, either. While chopping, stirring, and sizzling she wonders if he doesn’t work too much. She answered his fan mail herself, his European secretary, Barbara, discreetly removed from the premises for the time being when he was ill, and so she knows just how much there is. Sometimes she worries over him working himself when he already has the Army to tucker him out. And then she comes back round to the words he flung in her direction before he galloped off.

Magnificent, he had called her. Then fled upstairs as if her very existence was unsupportable.

She checks the stove, checks the table, checks the twins to make certain they’re not setting death traps for each other then mounts the stairs herself, some heavy hearted presentment prompting her to be stealthy.

She avoids that one creaky step in her kitten heels, atiptoe as she first checks his office and finds it empty, to her growing unease. Instead, she hears the rustle of sheets, the familiar sound of Elvis’s panting breaths, and it draws her to their bedroom like a siren’s song. And, oh. Oh.

Because through the crack in the door she has a nearly perfect view of her husband, laid out on the sheets like dinner on a tablecloth, thrusting his hips up so the leaking red head of his cock peeks out from his fist. The vein that runs along the bottom of little Elvis visibly throbs, the shiny length of him so hard he’s what she knows feels like velvet over steel. He’s quieter than he’s ever been with her, no rambling talk of filling and gushing because Elvis has the panties she wore yesterday clamped over his mouth and nose. His strong hand flexes with every pant, his chest heaving through his unbuttoned shirt, and she feels that ache of emptiness in her lil house as she stares. It’s mesmerizing, seeing him, seeing Elvis twitch outside of her. Normally she’s a little preoccupied.

Elvis’s spine bows as his flank and thighs flex within the confines of his slacks, powerful muscles rippling, feet planted firmly on the floor. It’s primal, masculine, indecent. She uses one hand to cover her own trembling lips and uses the other to touch the door ever so gently, widening the gap so she can see how tears clump up his lashes at the same time she sees his heavy balls slap into the grip of his hand at another pump of his hips. Elvis is whimpering, and he’s fumbling with her underthings–what is he doing? And then he sucks on the crotch of them, tasting her, a deeper moan comes rumbling out. It makes his cock twitch, leaking over his knuckles, she feels herself gush in sympathy, her body entirely unfamiliar with watching without being used. Still, he’s so pretty like this, is all that seems to tumble around in her head.

Elvis knows he’s close, the taste of Elaine on silk so heady he closes his eyes to savor it. He’s treading along an age-old fantasy, of fucking a baby into her, of feeling her hole’s wringing grip on his cock as he gushes and fills her with enough of his cum she complains about him pulling out and making a mess of their bed. But that fantasy changes with what he saw downstairs, how she had so casually claimed him as hers, her husband, secure in her place as his wife. How she handled the women that hang around him no matter what he does, gagging them as sure as anything. It’s that thought that makes his throbbing balls draw up and his seed spurt in his hand, wasteful, dripping down his wrist and onto the undershirt still covering his chest. He shudders, still sucking at the gusset of Elaine’s panties like it’s her titties in his mouth.

She watches from the hall as Elvis catches his breath, a whimper stuck in her own throat and a throbbing between her legs she doesn’t quite know what to do with, now that little Elvis has been wrung so cruelly dry. She finds herself backing away from the door, mind awhirl, dinner an afterthought she goes through the motions of with the ample distractions of her emptiness and confusion combined. She nearly drops the roast when she hears him coming back down the stairs.

He pads down the stairs, and halts at the mirror at the bottom to quickly run his still-damp hands through his hair in an effort to make his glassy eyes look a little more like he splashed water on his face and not like he fucked his fist in their marriage bed until he was weepy. He makes a face in the mirror, cause he’s not so sure it works. His cock is still damn sensitive, and so he’s moseying into the kitchen like he’s just got done with PT in the yard, every brush of his pants making him want to sit himself down and relieve his jelly-legs. Ella gives him the perfect excuse, she’s underfoot near the foot of the stairs and he scoops her up gladly, flopping into a chair at the table with an exaggerated huff that makes his baby girl giggle.

Elaine is there, every curl in place, cheeks flushed a little from the piping hot lamb she’s currently setting on the table. “Howdy darlin’, figured it was ‘bout time for supper,” and he still feels the urge to bend his pretty wife over the counter and take and take and take, but it’s less strong. Dusty sills and bruised pink petals.

She gives him a little affirming hum, but finds she can’t for the life of her reason his actions out. First he calls her magnificent, then he gives an excuse, flees at her offer of intimacy, only to go and–and help himself? Seems an awful lot like she did something to estrange her husband, but the only thing she could think of is her mentioning her ownership of Graceland to Doris and Susan. But surely he knew that was so she could get the two of them under control, not out of… not some sort of brag? It made her a little anxious to think about, even as she goes to find Doger, and the three of them sat down at the table to eat. They prayed, they ate, they read, they bathed the babies, they put them down. They went to sleep.

Sleep. Untouched, besides his heavy arm thrown over her waist, but still, after a few months of vigorous nocturnal activity, Elaine laid there listening to the fan whir as the clock struck later and later with each fresh batch of confusions burdening her as her husband, independent, free and freshly drained, slept soundly beside her. What’s one night’s avoidance? She tried to reason with herself, find some joy in the victory of having him free from the pills and herself full with children again.

Sleeping untouched? Oh that wasn’t the half of it. Elvis was avoiding her. At first she didn’t quite notice during the day, much to her own shame. He always had a very good excuse: he needed to be on base early to go over some papers, or he wanted to get more exercise and back into fighting fit to keep up with the rest of the boys in his unit. He left early and came home late. No longer doped, it made sense his ambition would roar back to life, she just didn’t expect so little of it to be directed towards his own family. He went out with the boys and came home late enough some nights he didn't eat dinner. It all made his days longer, made him come back droopy-eyed and a little sullen, so much so she couldn’t bring herself to do much aside from feed him if he wanted food and draw him a bath, watch him lay tiredly on the floor and let his babies crawl over him before she shooed him upstairs, putting the twins down to bed.

It was the window sill that made her realize, the same sill that she found herself dusting in the sudden free time she had to do so, the one Doris and Susan had remarked upon. It made her freeze in place as if a lightning bolt came down on her head, and she dropped the duster in horror. Was this shift the result of her little reparte with Doris and Susan? Or something else, something more? She was met with a feeling of nausea that had nothing to do with the babe growing in her belly as her thoughts spun. That was how Doger found her, staring at the dusty sill like it contained the word of the Lord.

“Now wha’s got ya in a tizzy, girl?” Dodger grumbled, bending down slowly to pick up her abandoned duster. Dodger’s quiet strength and rough concern made all of the swirling thoughts come spilling out like pulling a drain plug. “Elvis’s been avoidin’ me, and he hasn’t touched me in nigh on a week now, Dodger. What have I done, I can’t think -what have I done?” came the breathless last gasp of her tirade, her feet pacing a rut into the nice living room carpet.

“Well,” Dodger started, wizened hands capturing Elaine’s and bringing her to a halt, “If there’s one thing that boy is, it’s in love with ya, girl,” and there’s a significant look thrown at the gentle swell of her belly, “so I reckon he’s just got some idea stuck in that fool head of his.”

“Ah, one of those.” she grinned knowingly, the two of them having navigated many of his fool ideas and superstitions over the course of her pregnancy and their separation, “But what idea, Dodger? Why is he bein’–bein’ so cold to me? Oh, what if he thinks I’m one of them icy, mean bimbos he was spittin’ on? I can’t take it, can’t take him promisin’ to give me a family and then goin’ off to some other woman.” she rushed out, all her fears crowding her head.

“Elvis ain’t gonna do that to ya, Elaine,” and it’s the use of her name that makes her focus on Dodger’s kind eyes and wrinkled smile, “Jus’ needs remindin’ he’s got a pretty wife that makes a mean Southern supper right here.”

Dodger watches a shrewd look come across Elaine’s face, one that means business as an idea pops into her head. She has some recipes she packed into the bottom of her luggage from Miss Gladys, carefully taken out of her cookbook because she couldn’t pack the whole thing. She smiles at Dodger, gives her hands a squeeze and announces, “I’m goin’ to pick up some groceries. You have fun with your quitin’ circle, Dodger, I got a meal to prepare.”

She asks the neighbors to watch the twins while she’s out–she had planned to stay in before the realization had struck her, and now she’s on the warpath while filling bottles and putting nappies in a bag, wrangling a squirmy boy and girl into her arms and across the hedgerow. When that’s all taken care of, kisses bestowed to each of her babies’ heads, she quickly powders her nose, slips on some sensible satin heels, grabs one of her little grocery sacks and clutch, and out she goes to the farmer’s market just down the way.

It’s as she runs through the list of things she’ll need to buy in her head that she spots the diner that marks the fact the bakery where she wants to buy some bread is just around the corner. She quickens her pace, only to nearly stumble as she finds, just in the window, Elvis and his Army friends. She recognizes some of them, but not all, and along with the boys are girls. At least two of those loose waitress types cling to her husband, who is in full uniform, dressed to impress, as her mama used to say. Clinging fans, autograph hunters, and smooching devotees are not new to her, nor does she begrudge them, she knew who she married. But that’s the fact of it, she knew she married a man besotted with her, a man who wouldn’t entertain or let women hang on him and pet what’s hers while barely having enough energy to kiss his own wife goodnight. She doesn’t think herself a jealous woman, but it’s the lack that’s getting to her.

It makes tears burn her eyes and an anger well up from some place she didn’t know she had in her chest, thoughts going round her head about what them harlots by the name of Doris and Susan said, how Elvis had danced with them. How her husband had thrown parties while she was at Graceland, an ocean away, nursing his babes. She thinks of dusting window sills and selfish bastards, men who want wives and then leave them when they’ve got kids. Oh, Elvis will not do this to her. She won’t stand for it, not after he plied her with promises of babies and security and money and a happy home. She’s got the first one, but she will damn well have the others, too. This may have begun as something Elvis wanted, but she’s here now, and she reckons she’s here to stay.

She’s spotted by one of the men through the window before she can sort out her thoughts any further. She watches, dull and heartsore as the man taps her husband on his shoulder and points at her. Before she can see that pretty face turn to her she rushes around the corner and into the bakery in a blast of warm, sweet smelling air. With a deep breath she puts on the polite smile her mama taught her, and goes about buying all her groceries with a single-minded determination, even as her mind whirls with the question of how she’s fixin’ to mend this before it becomes ugly. Before it becomes far more than it is. Before it becomes full abandonment.

“Lamb,” she reprimands herself on the walk home, reflecting on the pickings of last week’s menu, “what self respecting Southern woman feeds her man a leg of lamb and expects him to stick around? Pshh, foreign relations, my eye. Shoulda known, amateur mistake.”

Part 2 and resolution coming soon ☺️

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THE BLESSINGS OF HOME & LOVE

A SONNY CARISI X FEMALE READER STORY

WORD COUNT: 1.2k - ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

It was a chilly March evening and Sonny was glad to be finished with work for the day down at the precinct.

He was glad to be not working on the night shift tonight - the weather station was warning of the possibility of snow, and with the bitter wind that was already there, Sonny was already finding himself freezing cold as he sat in his car outside the apartment building where he lived with his wife.

A broad smile brightened Sonny’s face as he thought of you, his wife. It felt so surreal yet beautifully incredible to be calling you his wife, to be your husband. You were still newlyweds, only having married at the end of February, and after a short honeymoon up in Nantucket, you and him had got back to work quickly. He planned to take you off on a Mediterranean cruise and a proper honeymoon in the summer.

Grabbing his leather briefcase, a new one that had been a gift from you for his birthday last year, Sonny switched his car off and climbed out of the vehicle, locking it and stood onto the sidewalk looking up at the building. He knew you’d be home, you had the habit of bringing your work home if it wasn’t busy in the courthouse.

That had been how he had met you, one day at the courthouse, where you had been rambling away to Rafael about some case of his that overlapped with your own, as you worked as an Assistant District Attorney within the homicide department. You were beautiful and intelligent. Sonny had been blown away from the first time he met you.

After a year and a half together, you had married and as he wandered over to the building, Sonny couldn’t wait to see you, even though he had seen you before leaving for work that morning. Gregorio, the elderly doorman opened the door for the lanky detective.

“Evening, Mr. Carisi!” chimed Gregorio, as he held the door open. Sonny felt himself blush at the title as he stood to chat with the doorman.

“Hey, Greg! What have I said? Just call me Sonny!” chuckled Sonny as he stood in the lobby. He instantly felt the heat of the building start to warm him up, and it was definitely much nicer than outside.

Now it was Gregorio’s time to chuckle. “Oh you know me, I’m an old-time gentleman and habits die hard! How is the missus doing? I didn't see her earlier,” stated the doorman with a smile, which Sonny returned.

“Ah ya know, perfect as always!” smiled Sonny as he started thinking about you again. You were always on his mind.

“Young love, as they say, tell her I was asking after her, then will you?” asked Gregorio, as he moved to open the door again. “Don’t want to keep you either, bad luck to keep a wife waiting, I know that from experience,” added the elder man.

Sonny nodded and said his farewell, and with his long limbs it didn’t take long for him to reach the second floor of the building, to the apartment that you and him called home. He was glad to see that you kept the door locked. After all he’d seen in his career (although you had also seen some sights), it had been something Sonny made sure to reiterate to you - keep the door locked, even if you’re home. He had a key, and any guests would give prior notice about a visit.

Walking through the heavy door, Sonny felt himself relax instantaneously at being home and back to you. As he locked the door, he got a delicious smell waft over to him and Sonny felt his stomach rumble.

“Doll, it’s me!” called Sonny as he took his coat off and hung it in the hallway cupboard. “I’m home, and I’m likin' the smell of whatever you’ve got cookin'!” he added loudly as he took his leather dress shoes off and placed them on the rack within the cupboard beside your own court shoes.

“Sonny?” he heard you call from the kitchen down the hall as your head stuck out the doorway, to which he stood to his full height and out of the cupboard.

“Ya, just putting everythin' away! Know you like it all tidy!” he chuckled as he wandered over to your petite self, and brought you into a tight and loving hug and kiss.

Pulling away from the kiss, you rested your hands on the broad shoulders of your husband. He must’ve taken off his suit jacket sometime, and he looked very handsome in his white shirt and grey waistcoat and red tie. “Hello to you handsome!” you giggled, kissing him softly. “I’ll have you know it’s good practice, y'know keeping tidy…”

Sonny nodded, and he pressed his lips against your own again. He couldn’t get enough of your kisses. “I love you, darlin,” murmured Sonny, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him some more. The smell of your strawberry mint shampoo and the scent of your vanilla and jasmine perfume seemed to intoxicate Sonny as he stood there, just hugging you, his wife and best friend. “I can’t wait for that to happen, seein' how good you are now, I know ya will be the best.”

You couldn’t help but blush at Sonny’s compliments, and you playfully whacked against his chest, which made him laugh and his eyes crinkle. “Well, I think you’ll be even better!” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling up at him. “Anyway, do ya wanna try out what I’ve been cooking up for us?”

Sonny nodded. He had not had time to eat much at lunch, just some god awful coffee and a vending machine sandwich. Usually the two of you would meet up for lunch, but you had been busy prepping for a case, and he had been chasing down a perp in Central Park. So to say the least, Sonny was absolutely famished, and he loved that you loved to cook like he did.

“I can smell rosemary and garlic?” stated Sonny as he sniffed the area. “Chicken too?”

You nodded. “My Nonna mailed me some old family recipes, so I’ve been trying them out… I hope you like pollo al mattone, sformato and then some torta della nonna for dessert,” you smiled, bringing Sonny into the kitchen by the hand, your hands intertwined.

Sonny groaned at the sight of the dishes you had ready and awaiting. You really did spoil the gastronome within him, but he did the same right back to you. “Doll, you’ve outdone yourself here!” grinned Sonny as he wandered over to the oven. “I guess you were a tad stressed today?”

You giggled as you joined Sonny bringing out the dishes and cutlery. “That Adams murder case is a mess,” you sighed as you passed the plates to Sonny, who placed them on the kitchen table. “I don’t like badmouthing detectives, but one lost evidence pertaining to the case, and it’s got Buchanan piling pressure on all angles for a mistrial.”

Sonny sighed. He hated that you got stressed out and that your cases ending up complex or screwed by external factors. “I know ya will get justice for the victim, you’re the best ADA I know,” he replied as he picked up the pollo al mattone with oven gloves on. “Wish you had better detectives though, doll, I’d move heaven and earth for you, whether it’s a case or anything else.”

You stood there, watching your husband move the dishes over to the table. Honestly, you had no idea how you had been blessed for someone as perfect as one Dominick Carisi Jr.

#sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x you #sonny carisi x female reader #dominick carisi #dominick carisi jr #peter scanavino #svu #law & order svu #law and order svu

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mamayan · 8 months

Note

Can I please request NSFW Spinner with a fem reader who is like super friendly and affectionate (hugs him a lot, wants to cuddle all the time, etc)? Maybe a little ditzy too haha. And they start off as friends/Spinner thinking he just has a one-sided crush on reader, but a night of “friendly cuddling” (which always makes Spinner’s head spin anyway and he never quite knows what to do with himself lol) turns into something more when reader notices he’s hard and excitedly offers to help him with it

Oh Anon, you don’t even understand how perfect this request is. I was sold yesterday! This sounds delicious🫢😭 Mama is cookin’!

Spinner x Fem! Reader

CW: NSFW•Fem!Reader•Hemipenes (Gecko Quirk will not allow me to believe otherwise)•Fluff•Friends to Lovers•Loss of Virginity•Creampie

Tag list: @sharpcheddarcheese

★彡Cuddle Me☆彡

“Oi! Dummy, stop messin’ around, you’re gonna’ get me killed!” You laughed despite his mildly threatening tone, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him from behind. Your head peaking over his shoulder at the video game he was clearly losing. Some car racing game? You remember him raving about getting it a few days ago, but you’d been away on mission for the League and just hadn’t had time to snoop like usual through Spinner’s newest finds.

“Did’ya not hear me? I’m gonna lose cuz of ya…” his grumbling is too cute, but you relax your choke hold for something soft as your rest against his firm back and watch him play. When he realizes you aren’t going to mess with him more than this, he relaxes and goes back to his game. In only a few minutes, you’re nearly asleep against him, his skin finally warming up to your body temperature and urging you to nap. While he’s not soft nor very comfortable to sleep against, you still manage fine due to his mild scent and presence calming you.

“Win!” He startles you awake, jumping too when you yelp and turning quick to check he hadn’t accidentally elbowed you or something. “Ah, my bad. You okay?” He looks a bit sheepish, and you take a moment to admire his lack of villain ensemble, his casual hoodie and joggers very homy in your eyes. “Shit, were’ya sleepin’?” He looks guilty now, seeing you rub the sleep from your eyes tiredly.

You nod solemnly, keeping the smile off your features as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. “I haven’t slept in two days due to my mission…”

He looks twice as guilty now, horrified even. “W-why’d’ya come here then?! Go to bed!”

“I came here to sleep…” you shamelessly look at him now, clearly inviting yourself into his space for your much needed nap. He looks mildly annoyed, sighing at your antics but not surprised in the least. He looks ready to berate you, as usual, but you’re a bit taken back when he just scoots over his bed to allow you space.

You normally have to force your way onto the bed, mostly confined to the edges where you can bug Spinner properly. You’ve certainly dragged him into your bed plenty, though his is a full and your own a twin. It’s not necessarily very comfortable for Spinner to sleep in your space.

Glancing at his switch, you realize the screen is already dark.

“Ya gonna’ sleep or not?” His question pops your bubble of thought, and you realize you’ve dumbly been staring off into space for a moment. Steeling yourself, you smile and nod, crawling further onto the bed and latching yourself onto Spinner.

“Stop it woman! Just go to bed!” Despite his scaled and clawed hand pressing against your face to make you back away, you just snuggle closer, rubbing your cheek against his palm until you hear him shudder and twitch a bit. He yanks his palm back, sighing and giving up to the inevitable. “Idiot” is all he mumbles, not amused by your affectionate cuddling streak.

If he was more observant, he’d realize the only two people you really touch like this are him and Toga. The latter for platonic reasons. Him for other. While it wasn’t difficult for you to show affection, your actions always speaking louder than your words, you have felt a mild fear of rejection lately.

He just seemed impassive, any and all advances begrudgingly endured and not necessarily welcomed. You wonder if he’s hiding how he feels or if he’s just not interested like that, and it’s something that’s been bugging you quite firmly for a while.

It mattered little now though, your eyes heavy and body exhausted. You’re quick to fall asleep again, curled against Spinner’s side despite how closely he’s pressed his body against the wall to give you space.

His eye twitches in annoyance as he looks at all the room you ignored.

Your sleeping face peaceful, curled up like some sort of cat against his side. He’s never been too much to a fan of felines, mostly because they hate him, but it’s difficult not to find you cute.

Thankfully you hadn’t tried to climb on top of him, he would’ve had to toss you if that was the case, because he was painfully aware how close you are right now. His pants tighter by the minute, and he can’t even make it go away because that could wake you. He’d rather die than have to live through that embarrassment, of being caught jacking off while you sleep beside him. It was entirely too uncool and shameful.

Eventually his body calmed down enough for him to actually become tired too, scrolling on his phone finally boring him enough to close his eyes.

Sleep entraps you both for several hours, and unfortunately for Spinner, you wake up first.

To the feeling of strong arms wrapped around you, a hard body and soft breathing against your neck. It has you flustered, the initial shock, but melting quickly into the embrace. He was holding you like a teddy bear in his sleep!

The cuteness of the situation unbearable, your need to wake and grab the man almost winning. You wanted to tease him until he was too shy and embarrassed to speak.

Except what happened next wasn’t as cute as it was something else entirely. Spinner had one leg slotted between your own, his body molded to your back. You felt his erection clearly against your ass, hard and a little worrisomely large. You didn’t intentionally grind back against him, but when your hips moved, he tugged you even closer and tighter to him. A soft huff from him behind you alerted you he was awake now.

He was incredibly grateful you didn’t seem to be up yet, knowing you and your antics, he was fearful it’d become a joke that’d haunt him for life. Spinner tries not savor the moment of you in his arms, so warm and soft it has him struggling to pull away. As quiet and gently as possible, Spinner attempts to remove himself from your body he’d unknowingly hugged in his sleep. This wasn’t his first time waking up like this with you, usually in your bed because the space was so limited. He was slightly lightheaded as he reeled his self control in to keep from pressing himself further into you. Like his dicks desperately wanted.

“Do you want help?”

He nearly yelps like a child caught stealing, flinching away from you in panic. He’s quick to school his features and laugh. “Sorry, I get cold if I sleep without turning my heater up—” His excuse is interrupted by you though.

He’s nearly clawing out of his skin when he watches your arm move, body twisting a little so you’re looking up at him, and your hand without hesitation palms him through his pants. “H-hah—w-what the hell are you—!” He’s frozen like a statue despite you applying no real force.

“I meant with this.” Your smile is so devious it’s terrifying. His mind is left racing like a hamster on a wheel, trying to formulate even one coherent thought and failing like a loser. “Do you want my help?” You’ve completely turned on your side to face him, hand not moving from his crotch.

“H-help?” He’s barely breathing, struggling not to pant and lose his mind because he’s never had anyone touch him there. Only his own rough hand has explored himself. He looks lost and confused, unable to fathom why you’d be doing this right now. Why you, pretty sweet you, would be touching him so intimately. Did you actually not understand? He became mildly concerned, because it wouldn’t be the most far off thing, for you not to understand that this was an invitation for sex.

“Yes, help. Shuichi, do you want me to make you cum?” He was wrong, and it nearly had him hopping out of the bed and rushing for the exit like a scared child. He would’ve, had your hand not tightened around him, making him moan out loud. His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you still as he tried to concentrate enough to think logically and not with his lower half.

“You’re half asleep, let go—.”

“I’m wide awake!”

“Ggh!” His resolve weakened further when you squeeze him, whimpering a little when you do release him and he can greedily suck in air.

Spinner is nearly helpless as he’s pushed onto his back, your body easily climbing on top of him to look down and see him trying to look anywhere but you. He doesn’t realize his own insecurities are intensifying yours. “Shuichi” he’s startled by the use of his name again, normally you’d call him Spin or just Spinner. He peaked up at you, a bit alarmed at the distressed expression you were showing.

“H-hey don’t cry! I’m sorry!” He’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for, but it’s better than seeing the glassy look in your eyes.

“Do you not like me? Like that… like a woman?” He’s so focused on your words, he doesn’t halt your movements in time. Your clothed cunt grinds down against him, eliciting a grunt as he grits his teeth and grips your hips harshly to stop your wiggling. Claws lightly digging in through your shorts. He’s glaring up at you now, your expression still sad and pouty, but he’s known you long enough to recognize the glint of mischief. “Stop playin’ or I’m gonna take it serious.” It’s his turn to feel a bit of his pride rebuilt, pulling your hips down so he can forcefully grind against you this time.

The wanton moan you release isn’t what he’s expecting. Your hands moving to rest on his chest as you do it again, and the pleasure he feels is unreal. Your soft center rocking down onto him.

“Fuck—” whatever leg up in the situation he’d had, it’s gone now. You’re quick to grip his face in your soft hands, so you can lick up his neck to his mouth. His groan encouraging, as you proceed to take the chance and lick inside his mouth.

It’s hotter than any porn he’s ever watched. He’s trembling beneath you, and thankfully his mind is clouded enough to not panic and climb the walls. He’s far too focused on the feel of your warm and wet little tongue touching his own. He’s a bit unsure what else to do but let you lead, his mouth open to allow you access because he’s not a normal man and can’t kiss you like they do in movies and such. Except he feels his chest tightening and cocks ache when you moan again and try to press as much as yourself against him as possible.

The feel of you was enough to nearly make him cum in his pants.

He tries to vocalize that the stimulation, however little, was a bit too much. “Wait,” he’s lightly panting, trying to lift your hips up and off him a bit so he doesn’t ruin his pants, “I just need a minute—”

“No you don’t.” You seem determined to make him soak through his boxers and pants, grabbing his hands and moving them to rest on either side of his head. You weren’t physically stronger than him, not even a little, but he always worried of accidentally hurting you. It came natural for him to let you move him how you wanted, cautious of where you were in relation to his claws.

You’re back to grinding against him, and Spinner is unable to hide the noises escaping him with how you lick and suck at his tongue. His guttural groans and whines have your underwear sticky and messy as you try to give him as much friction as possible.

“G-gonna cum—oh fuck fuck—!” His whimper and moans are debauched, making him sound ruined as he comes apart beneath you. He breaks your loose hold on his wrists, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you to his chest as he bucks up under you to ride out his orgasm. His face in the crook of your neck as his long tongue slips out to lick you now, your neck and your sensitive ear, panting and causing you to clench around nothing at the sensations.

You let him calm down, running your hands sweetly through his hair and gently massaging his scalp.

When he’s caught his breath, he seems content to just hold you against him and either avoid confrontation a little longer or simply bask in the afterglow of the hardest he’s ever come. A bit of both more accurately.

“Shuichi…”

“Hmm?” He’s not lightening his hold on you at all.

“What about me?” Your voice is little more high pitched than usual.

“Huh?” that has his attention immediately. His hold finally loosening enough for you to push up on his chest and look down at him again. Your pout is prominent, and it’s the same face you make when he’s eating something you want a bite of selfishly. It’s arousing and dangerous for him all at once. That pout going to haunt his dreams.

“I want to cum too…” clearly you were trying to make him go brain dead, why else would you be acting like this?

“Will you help me now?” He’s losing his damn mind as you yank your top over your head, letting him see you shirtless. He’s also made aware that you aren’t wearing a bra, your chest on full display for his eyes. Much to his panic and blatant fear.

He’s never been hard again so quickly in his life.

“W-what do ya want m-me to do?” He’s both elated and unsure all at once, senselessly conflicted. What he wants to do is grab and lick at your chest, though no porn he’s ever watched really cares to focus on that portion. You show mercy thankfully, and instead of teasing him, you tell him exactly what you’d like him to do.

“I want to sit on your face…but I also want to still touch you too…” he’s blurting out the first thing to come to mind for him.

“Ya wanna 69?” You light up, and it’s both his dream come true and worst nightmare because you nod and grin down at him.

“That’s a great idea!”

You stripping naked for him is enough to have him crumbling, but when you climb on top of him again backwards, so you scoot your drenched cunt before him and face his soiled pants… he either wants to die or acknowledges he’s already in heaven.

You get a perfect view of the mess you made of him, and while you’ve prepared yourself mentally when you help slide his pants and boxers down, you’re still taken by the sight. His hard cocks, two, covered in his own sticky cum and it’s so erotic you bite back a moan.

It’s quickly ripped from your throat though when Spinner decides to taste test your dripping slit. Your voice is nothing but encouragement for him. When your own tongue joins the party to lick his cum off the first and longest cock, you’re given both cocks rutting against your cheek and face as Spinner moans against your pussy. His hips automatically jerking at the hot sensation of your mouth and breath. His skin heating with your own, and he’s left dizzy and nearly intoxicated on it all.

While you kitten lick his cocks, teasing and more in chase of your own high at the moment, Spinner does his very best to not cum again before you. His tongue has no real rhythm, switching too quickly between licking at your clit and trying to slither inside your tight cunt. It’s pleasurable but not enough of one or the other to make you shatter like you’re so desperate for now.

“F-feels good…Shuichi, use your fingers?” You’re panting directly over his cocks and it’s difficult for him to focus on pleasuring you when he’s becoming wound tight again himself.

He’s not stupid, but he is hesitant and cautious as he brings one hand around, his thumb lightly pressing into your clit. He’s tuned into your every noise and movement, eyes widening as you jolt and moan his name when he does it. The light but consistent pressure on your clit, coupled with his tongue returning to lavishing your entrance and finally wiggling a portion inside your cunt, is what finally allows you to cum.

“M’gonna cum…” you’re only weakly able to pump one cock at a time, grip tightening around the second one you’d been giving some much needed attention too when you feel your orgasm hit. Your head dropping on his pelvis for a moment as you shake and cum with his name on your lips.

Spinner is left with your soft pliant body atop his, your swollen and soaked pussy before his eyes and cum covering his face and chest. Your hips tilted up a little, but the rest of your body limp against him. His hand on your hip that was helping you stay up for him finally moving to help flip you onto your back. You look so fucking cute for him, it’s hard to not just spread your legs further and sink one of his cocks inside you already.

Your eyes are a bit heavy, but your smile is so sweet it could give him a cavity.

“Thank you.” He wants to scoff, because it should be him thanking you. Since he’s gotten off now, it’s a bit easier for him to think despite still being hard. He’s yanking his bottoms back up, ignoring your complaint, so he can lean on an arm over you.

“You—,” he stops, his fist clenching and unclenching as he mulls over his word choice, “is this like a… one time thing?” He’s worried, of ruining your friendship, but of losing you most of all. He’d shut the hell up and never bring this moment up again if you said so, if it meant you both could return to normal.

“D-do you want it to be…?” You, sweet enthusiastic to an annoying degree you, look damn unsure of yourself for a moment. Spinner is only able to feel surprised, seeing you honestly so vulnerable beneath him like this.

He doesn’t want to be uncool, to make a fool of himself, and he is best of all aware of how he looks… but he doesn’t want to lie either.

“No. I ain’t gonna pretend like I do, but I also wanna know if you want that kind of relationship with me… I ain’t the most good lookin’ man out there.”

“Shut up!” The volume in which you yell startles him and hurts his head.

“I love you! Who cares what everyone else thinks?! What idiot wouldn’t want you? You! Spinner! Legacy holder of Stain!” You’re wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him close, grinning victoriously like you’ve won something special.

Him. He feels special.

He can’t help but laugh a little, not rushing away from you for once, but leaning in. His chest tight but in a way that makes him happy. Because you love him.

“I love you too.” The outright confession leaves your face stunned, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Spinner is captivated by the sight, wanting to hold you close but also wanting to see your face. When it melts into a shy smile and glassy eyes, he can’t help mimicking your earlier ‘kiss’. His tongue gently delving into your mouth, and it’s enough to have your thighs clenching tight as he devours your mouth. Lost to the kiss, Spinner is complacent.

Clearly forgetting the soft and sweet moment couldn’t last with your ability to stir him up so wildly.

Your hand grips the waist band of his joggers, yanking down to free his cocks again and wrap your hand around the top longest with an iron grip.

“Fuck, you don’t need to—”

“I wanna have sex.”

How the hell was he supposed to say no? Especially as you try and lock your legs around his waist, arms still linked around his neck to prevent him from getting too far away. From the beginning, he really didn’t stand a chance against you.

“Y-you sure?!” He’s a bit aggressive in his embarrassment asking, but he’s nervous because this is the most that’s ever happened to him in his life.

“Mhm, wanna feel you inside me Shuichi” your words make his mind short circuit. You politely release his cock so he can move. He’s a bit clumsy as he grips your thighs and drags you closer against him, knees coming in-between your legs to keep you spread open. He’s lightly trembling, aware of how to have sex but not entirely sure of how to have sex with you. The two very different in his mind. He doesn’t want to hurt you or ignore your pleasure in anyway.

“I can take both.” You sound breathless beneath him, and he briefly wonders through the haze of lust if you’ve lost your mind.

“No.” He’s firm in his answer this time, his expression and glare he settles you with full of that familiar stubbornness he gets with certain things. Like with his ideologies shared with Stain.

“Shuichi—” this time you’re cut off as he lets the tip of his second cock poke your entrance. It’s enough of a distraction as you moan, the feeling of his scales on his cock added texture you feel as he slowly sinks inside you. Neither cock is small, both thick, but his second cock is the smaller of the two and curved up a bit more than his first.

He’s nearly on his death bed when he bottoms outside you, tip just gently curving up into that spongey patch inside your pussy that has you whining and toes curling.

“Fuck Shuichi, so good!” He chokes a bit at your honest comment, huffing as he tries not to look right at you. He’d fall apart too quickly.

“Y-you too— so tight.” He sounds nearly in pain, but then again he’s likely a bit overstimulated having cum not too long ago. “M’gonna move” is all you get before you feel his cock drag against your walls, his whimper of pleasure loud as he tries to keep quiet and fails. You’re not any better, but you at least keep your eyes trained on him, realizing he’s overdressed.

“Your hoodie… Shuichi I wanna feel all of you!” The way your hands desperately pull at his top distracts him a bit, and he doesn’t even have time to feel insecure because you squeeze down on him as he’s revealed to your eyes. His hard scaled chest and upper body a feast for your eyes and hands as they move to touch him. His moans pick up a bit as his hips begin to find somewhat of a steady pace, his concentration at maximum as he focused on trying to make you cum again.

The way your hips move and twitch cause him to look lower.

He’s inadvertently made to look at how your sopping cunt takes him in, his first cock erect and sliding perfectly against your clit with each thrust. Your nails can’t pierce his skin, but they would’ve if he didn’t have the quirk he did. Your noises have him checking your face, your watery eyes and open mouth with drool a sight for sore eyes. He doesn’t mean to pick up his pace or force, but you’re soon being fucked with more aggression that he originally intended. He’s close too. Muttering little praises as he gets consumed with pleasure.

“So pretty—,” he’s desperately fucking into you, muscles taunt and tight as he grits his teeth. Shaking the bed and you with each powerful movement, leaving you both a bit stupid.

“Cum inside me!” Over your senseless babbling and moans, one sentence has his balls tightening painfully.

“Fuck y’want me to fill you up?” He’s delirious on the pleasure of your cunt and warm body, his thrusts rough and a bit too much if not for the slicked up cock rubbing on your clit and driving you wild.

“Yes yes fill me please!” Spinner’s mind goes blank as he sinks as deep as possible and shakily paints your inner walls. Your cunt clamping down and spasming as you reach your peak with him. Groaning and whining, dropping his face down into your throat and losing it as he rocks his hips to prolong the experience of fucking you.

Your belly and chest are sticky and wet, his first cock shooting and covering you both with his how much he released. He grips you tight against him despite the mess, rolling so you’re on top so he isn’t crushing you.

It’s silent for a few minutes, save for your combined heavy breathing and the groan of the bed.

Your hands running over his chest and into his hair as he relaxes into your touch. His own hands lightly trace over your ass and thighs, massaging a bit curiously running a finger through the mess he’d made inside you.

“This doesn’t count as cuddle time.” He’s snapped from his thoughts as you mumble against his chest. He’s confused how this couldn’t count.

“You gotta cuddle me properly later, understand?” He chuckles, his grin growing.

“Yea, I got it. You need cuddle and sex time?”

“I’m glad you see logic like I do.” Your words teasing but voice clearly tired. You hadn’t slept much when you did nap earlier.

“Oi, don’t sleep yet dummy, ya need to go pee after sex.”

Your groan of complaint is ignored as your hauled from the bed and to the bathroom. Why he knew that piece of information, you didn’t know.

He’d never tell you he’d read multiple articles on “what women want” in a relationship after he found himself falling in love with you.

#SPINNER #Mha spinner #fem! reader #x reader #shuichi iguchi #bnha #mdni #18+#request filled #spinner x reader #mha spinner x reader #mha shuichi iguchi #x shuichi iguchi

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somanyratsinthewalls · 21 days

Text

Burning Hearts Chapter 17

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC

Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

****MINORS DNI***

Taglist: @zoros-fourth-sword @cottoncandyloverrrr @nothing-but-brass @airwolf92

Burning Hearts Chapter 17: Happy Birthday

— —

Fall had arrived on the island and the air temperature wasn’t the only thing that had turned colder. As the leaves on the trees turned from green to a burnt orange, Law had turned distant not just from you but from the rest of his crew as well. You knew there would be a shift in your dynamic after you lost control and took a chunk out of his arm, but holding a grudge against you didn’t seem like Law’s style… and it wouldn’t explain his indifference towards the other crew members.

You had a nightmare a few nights ago and found yourself knocking on Law’s bedroom door, looking for comfort in your restless state but you were met with nothing. Another day, you had attempted to drop off breakfast in his office but you were told to “leave it outside” and he would “get to it eventually.” Hours later you walk down the hallway to find it untouched and each delicious morsel you prepared was undisturbed.

“Hey Bepo,” You ask with a mouth full of peanut butter on a piece of bread from a loaf you freshly baked the day before. “Why is tomorrow’s date on the calendar crossed out all weird?” You point at the calendar on the fridge and tap it with a long fingernail.

“Oh… well… it doesn’t matter…” Bepo says nervously from the doorframe in the kitchen, twiddling his large clawed thumbs.

You choke down your breakfast and cock your head.

“Okay you’re being weird about it and you suck at lying so give it up, big guy.”

Bepo sighs.

“That’s the captain’s birthday.” He says finally while staring at the floor.

“Okay…? That doesn’t explain why it’s blacked out.”

“Well, he hates his birthday. Insists we ignore it, actually.”

“Why?” You inquire.

“He’s always hated it. We never really asked why. We got him a cake one year and he yelled at us before spending the rest of the week alone in his room. We just figured out that it’s best we leave it alone. That’s probably why he’s been weird lately… he knows it's coming up…” Bepo looked distraught.

“Hating a day of the year seems silly… but I guess so do most of the things he does…” You wash and dry your hands and head past Bepo to return to your room. “Thanks for the info.”

— —

“Hmmm… okay steam for fifteen minutes…” You slide your pointer finger down the hand written rice ball recipe to make sure you were getting the correct timings and measurements.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” A voice calls from the doorway and you turn around to see Shachi coming in to the kitchen, obviously following his nose.

“Rice balls. They’re not done yet and they’re not for you, so hands off!” You call as you throw the dish towel over your shoulder and fix your apron straps.

“Oh the captain’s favorite huh? Somebody must be trying to-“ Shachi’s sharp-toothed smile fades once he sees the calendar on the fridge behind you. “Wait… what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? Making the birthday boy his favorite dinner, idiot.” You return to the stove.

“I’M the idiot? Are you insane? He’s gonna freak out if you even MENTION his birthday, let alone make him dinner! Do you have a fucking death wish?” Shachi rushes over to you and tries to squeeze behind you to turn the stove off. You swat his hand away from the knob.

“Will you cool it? Let me do this. If he gets mad at anyone, let him get mad at me. Now get out before you’re an accomplice.” You slap Shachi on the back and push him out of the kitchen.

You spend another hour in the kitchen diligently molding rice balls into perfect little triangles and arranging them onto the plate in a neat little tower. You smile at your handiwork, but you were still a little apprehensive of how your birthday stunt was going to go over with the grumpy doctor. You grab a piece of paper from the pad next to the fridge and a pen and scribble out a makeshift sign to put next to the meal saying “DO NOT EAT” with an angry face.

You head to Ikkaku’s room and knock on the door.

“Come in!”

You push the door open and smile at your friend, immediately heading to her closet.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, my lady?” Ikkaku says sarcastically as she watches you start going through her rack of clothing.

“Do you still have that black dress? The wrapped one? Kind of a slutty little hemline?”

“I do, it’s collecting dust in there in the back. And why do we need to get dressed up on a Tuesday evening at home?”

“I have a plan.” You smirk as you retrieve the dress from the back of Ikkaku’s closet.

“Wait… it’s not… is it? Oh my god, Daisy this is a bad idea. You are severely underestimating how much that man hates his birthday. Haven’t you seen the way he’s been moping around the place lately? You cannot do this!” Ikkaku shouts at you from her position laying on her bed.

“I think you’re severely underestimating how much that man likes rice balls and boobs. Men are simple… even the crazy ones.” You wink as you flit back to your room, dress in hand.

— —

You look at yourself in the mirror before you head out to bring your plan to fruition. Ikkaku’s black dress was wrapped tightly around your figure, tied in one bow at the waist holding it all together. The neckline dipped low on your chest and the thigh high hemline made your legs look much longer than normal. You had unbraided your long hair, leaving it in soft waves cascading down your back and shoulders.

“If this doesn’t work, nothing will.” You say to yourself ask you reach the kitchen and pick up the plate of rice balls you had made earlier. Approaching Law’s door, you swallowed harshly and straightened your dress before knocking.

*knock knock knock knock*

“Working.” You hear from the other side of the steel door. You sigh and turn the handle anyway.

“Hey hey!” You say cheerily as you peek your head through a crack in the door.

“Daisy. Do you need something? Are you hurt?” Law looks up from the mountain of papers on his desk. He meets your eyes. His pale grey eyes were winked in and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“No no I’m fine! I just though I’d bring you your favorite dinner!” You step fully into Law’s office and present the plate of rice balls with a smile.

“Oh. I see. Thank you.”

You walk towards Law’s desk and place the plate down.

“I thought you could use a nice meal, it being a special day and all…” You let your voice trail off as you sit down carefully in the leather armchair directly across from him.

“What did you say?” Law furrows his brow.

“I know you hate your birthday, Law, but you have to learn to let people do nice things for you.”

“Who asked you to do this? Who told you today was my birthday?” Law raises his voice and you can see the anger in his face. “I don’t want fucking shit done for my birthday, and it’s clear you knew that and made a big deal out of it anyway!”

You maintain your composure.

“A plate of rice balls isn’t exactly making a big deal about it, Law.” You roll your eyes. “You’re so afraid of people being nice to you that you scream at them for making you dinner on your birthday. Your crew loves you, they care about you. You make sure they’re safe and happy every other day of the year, why can’t you let them treat you for one day?”

“I… I can’t.” Law looks down at his hands on the desk.

“Why? Is it so hard to believe people care about you?” You ask.

“I just can’t!” Law slams his fists down on the desk. You jump a bit, but remain steadfast.

“Fine, if you can’t accept that your crew cares, what about me then?” You say as you rise from the chair and walk towards the side of Law’s desk, getting closer to him.

“W-what do you mean?” Law looks at you from his seated position behind the desk.

“Maybe I can show you how much I care…” You reach to your side and untie the bow holding the dress together. You unreel the dress from your body, slowly revealing a black lace bra, matching panties and a garter belt you had picked up sneakily last time you went clothes shopping in town.

“D-Daisy-“ Law stutters as his eyes widen in shock at your nearly naked form leaning against his desk.

You move towards him and swing your leg over his lap to straddle him before he had a chance to protest.

“You’ll let me show you, yeah?” You cup his face in both hands to make him look up at you, his goatee tickling your palms. The look in Law’s eyes had changed from anger to vulnerability.

“Yes…” He pants up at you.

You respond by slamming your lips onto his in a passionate kiss. Law grunts in response before grabbing your torso with cold hands, making you shudder. You snake one of your hands to the back of his neck and the other wrapped itself in his hair, lightly pulling on the black strands. Law hums in appreciation of your boldness and slides his hands down to cup your exposed ass.

After a few more minutes of making out, Law starts grinding your hips onto his in a desperate attempt to feel more of you. He pulls away from your lips, a messy string of saliva still connecting the two of you when he speaks.

“I-is it getting hot in here?” He asks shakily.

“I don’t know, just take me to bed.” You say as you place more kisses along his chiseled jaw.

“Room…”

And in flash off blue light, you and Law were locked in a frenzied kiss again, but this time you were on top of him in his bed. Law leans up and rips his shirt off his head, knocking his hat to the floor in the process. He leans into you and starts mouthing wet kisses into the base of your neck.

“Off… Please…” Law gasps against your neck as his hands fumble with the clasp of your bra behind your back.

“Let me help.” You giggle and reach around behind you and undo the clasp yourself, your breasts spilling out into Law’s face as you toss your bra to his bedroom floor. Law was completely frozen with his hands on your lower back as he gazed at your naked tits. “You can touch them you know, you don’t have to just look…”

Law is shaken out of his daze and raises his hands to gingerly grope at your boobs, squeezing and pinching at the soft flesh.

“C-can I kiss them?” Law whispers and looks up at you sitting on his lap.

“Mmhmm…” You coo as you stroke his face with one hand. You gently draw his face into your left breast and he latches onto your nipple hungrily. He groans and you sigh and throw you head back at the feeling of his lips wrapped around your sensitive bud.

Law pulls back from sucking your tit and uses both of his chilly hands to squeeze your breasts together and let the flesh jiggle in his hands.

“You’re so fucking perfect…” Law sighs out as he is mesmerized by your breasts, cherry pink nipples erect and begging for him to bite and tease them.

“Law… Please… Need you…” You grind your hips down hard onto his denim clad bulge, desperate for more stimulation.

Suddenly, you’re flipped over onto your back and Law is hovering over you.

“I need you too…” Law says to you frantically as he captures your lips in a heated kiss again. He leaves your lips to trail sloppy kisses down your neck to reach your chest again. He laves his tongue over your nipple and you mewl out as his hands caress your naked sides.

You feel beads of sweat forming on your forehead and between your breasts.

“Maybe it is hot in here…” You pant out.

“Gotta get you out of these…” Law grunts as he rips your black panties and garters off your body, not caring about how many berries you spent on them, he was too desperate to have you naked in his bed. Once you were bare, he leaned back down to kiss and bite at your lower stomach.

“Shit… Law…” You whimper out as he gets closer to where you’ve really been craving him.

*WHAM*

The metal door to the office is slammed open.

“CAPTAIN THE BOILER’S BROKEN AGAIN!!!”

“Shit! Room!”

You had no idea what happened. You had heard the door open and Bepo’s voice from the adjoining office… and now you were fully nude and fully aroused alone in your own bed in your own room.

— —

“What the fuck is the problem?” Law shouts as he springs from his bed.

“Captain! Thank god you’re up! I see you noticed how hot it is, too!” Bepo looks Law up and down.

“What the hell are you talking about?” “Well the boiler’s on the fritz again and the place is heating up like crazy. I thought you noticed… your shirt and hat are off and you’re all red…”

“Oh.. well yeah I guess it is hot in here…” Law looks down at his bare, flushed chest. “What are you waiting for then? Let me get dressed and we’ll fix it.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Bepo turns to retreat to the boiler room.

“And Bepo?”

“Yes, Captain?” Bepo cranes his neck to look at Law.

“Please be sure to knock. Even in emergencies.”

*A/N sorry these are taking forever to write! grad school is back in session so I've been crazy busy! But thank you to those who are still interested and keep coming back! Thanks and love ya :)*

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #one piece smut #law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law #trafalgar one piece #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law #one piece law #law one piece #law x y/n

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dkniade · 1 year

Text

Offering to Cook Food and Seeing Your Reaction

ITTO, ALBEDO, ZHONGLI, KAEYA

(Not intended to be reader inserts but you can think of them that way.)

Experiment Notes

To get a feel for how Itto talks in English dub and try an informal speaking style

To properly appreciate food and incorporate a character’s setting to their dish

To convey key character traits in a short mundane scenario within a small word count

To imply what the other interlocutor said by the character’s reaction and change in topic in the next lines

Content Notes: Albedo’s part shows him being people-pleasing and having difficulty accepting compliments. Zhongli’s part briefly touches on grief and implied character deaths.

ITTO: Cooking Food

You hungry, buddy? Snacks are great but with that sorta growl— Hah! You’re gonna need something more. Well, you’re in luck~ Arataki “Number One Gourmet” Itto knows a whole menu’s worth of dishes by heart. Fried, sauced, pan-seared, you name it!

ITTO: Dish-Tasting

Tastes good, yeah? Heh, when you’ve got a gang to feed, y’learn to whip up bites that’d keep ya full. ‘Course, they come back askin’ for seconds! I know, I know, don’t be shy~ Get in line. I’ll whip up ten more batches! Hahahaha!

-----

Man, your tummy’s growling—

I know it tastes amazing.

‘Course it’s good! That’s all these years of cookin’ for the gang! That’s right!

ITTO

good at cooking snack food for the gang (think 小摊 or 夜宵 sorta food)

Easy to make stuff that are oily and deep fried, going all ham in sauce

huge ego, lighthearted, cares for Arataki gang

It’s quite surface ‘cause that’s what I got from his Voiceline profile

ALBEDO: Cooking Food

You’re hungry? I suppose I’ve carelessly let time slip by indeed… Very well, I’ll prepare some Sunshine Sprat. I imagine you’ll need a larger serving than me with your constant travels. Still, I hope it satisfies your hunger.

ALBEDO: Dish-Tasting

How is it? It may seem simple, but this dish requires slow cooking over low-heat for the butter to melt into the fish completely. I removed the bones and applied seasoning, but it may still be a bit bland for you. …Ah, it’s delicious? Yes, the ingredients are fresh from lakes at the bottom of the mountain. …My cooking skill? The combination of ingredients to create reactions is not unlike alchemy, after all. In any case, is the serving size okay? I don’t have a big appetite, so— …I— Traveler… Erm, excuse my reaction to… Thank you. I’m happy to hear that…

----

You’re hungry, you say?

If I may ask, do you prefer Mondstadtian snacks or a full dish? …

----

Though seemingly simple, this dish requires

I made sure to remove the bones as they might be unpleasant for you,

…Ah, really? I’m glad it satisfies your hunger, then.

…Ah, it’s delicious? Yes, the combination of ingredients to create reactions is not unlike alchemy.

Because of my skill? It’s nothing.

If you need more— It was the perfect size?

ALBEDO

Good at making Sunshine Sprats and knows some Mondstadt snacks Klee likes

Quality and elegance over size in cooking

Takes great care in cooking and making sure the one eating is satisfied

(wait, he’s asking a lot of questions, this feels a little extreme, ah but it’s taking care of his friend, so he wants to know despite his lack of experience)

Too worried about others’ reactions and living up to their standards

Explains compliments away by linking cooking to alchemy, but eventually takes compliment for himself

This last part was hard to word

ZHONGLI: Cooking Food

The art of cuisine takes patience and skill, so the preparation cannot be rushed. This soup requires a certain technique and seasoning, but its ingredients are minimal so it will only take six hours to prepare… Although, I’ve been advised to prepare it beforehand so you do not suffer from hunger for so long. Please wait for an hour for the last few ingredients to be fully cooked…

ZHONGLI: Dish-Tasting

At times like this, I look back on memories I’ve shared with my companions. Years pass, yet still I wish to taste wine while sailing away from the harbour… Would you like some? …No, that’s all that I ask for. Being able to share mundane moments with you is what makes them memorable. Even osmanthus flowers are more beautiful in your presence.

----

First, one ought to source the fresh bamboo shoots

When preparing dishes, one must have patience

I’d like you to wait a little longer.

----

The simple act of sharing a

Years pass, yet still wine tastes the same…

ZHONGLI

Good at making Slow-Cooked Bamboo Shoot Soup

High quality ingredients, dish has a refined taste that’s complex but not very strong

extra patient, doesn’t mind that something takes 6+ hours to prepare, explains origin of every ingredient

Reminisces on times past and sharing mundane memories with friends

It explores the meaning of the line in the Chinese some more. Here’s a Twitter thread that analyzes the line from the context of the original Chinese poem and also in Zhongli’s setting

Man the bit about sailing across the harbour and drinking wine only makes more sense in Chinese… It’s so bittersweet…

KAEYA: Cooking Food

Oh? Well, you’re in luck. I happen to know a few dishes that pair nicely with wine. …What? You don’t drink? Such a shame that I can’t share this joy with you! Still, I assure you these will be delectable even with apple cider.

KAEYA: Dish-Tasting

What? Surprised that I know how to make ham samples with olives and cooked fish? Hehe, don’t you know Cider Lake provides many ingredients for bar dishes? Of course I can make them anytime I want, but it’s more fun seeing you enjoy them~ Eating with good buddies tops even the best of wine, wouldn’t you say?

-----

Well, I’d say we deserve a break after all this work today.

Such a shame that you can’t enjoy the full experience with me!

Well, I assure you these ones will satisfy you even with apple cider.

KAEYA

good at cooking 下酒菜 (like fried vegetables and fish)

(German ham samples, olives, and cooked fish)

Always knows the best alcohol to pair with the dish

Teases, lazy about work, but confident in his cooking skills while praising the taste of wine

Puts emphasis on praising the Traveler’s presence

Drops a line about how it always tastes better with friends around

The line between explicitly complimenting the Traveler and implying his loneliness is so damn thin

I am flattered writing this

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saturnthesilliest · 4 months

Text

Day 6 YAYAYAYA I was waiting for this one!!! I have something cooked up. When I think pepper I think gumbo and I’m thinking princess and the frog setting AND GRRRRGSYETSTTSTEYSGSHRHR

(Go check out my friend @omgitslin >:3)

ENJOY!!

It was a warm evening, the sun was just below the horizon and the blues of the sky’s begin to turn black. The lights of the tiny homes surrounding the neighborhood lit up the place and gave you room to see. It was a small neighborhood, in a small town. Far off into grass plains and farmers land. It was a very close knit community.

You sat on the porch of your tiny, wooden home, watching as kids from around the houses played in a small grass area, squealing as they fought for custody of a simple leather ball. You saw parents, watching from their own porches, smiling softly at their children. You smiled as well, just for how loving the community is, and the time off you get.

You worked in a bigger, busier town. As a waitress in a small restaurant, and came back home to your small, warm community full of humans and monsters alike.

Speaking of warm, a smell lifts into the air, from a small house nearby. Ah, you knew who that was. Horror, the big guy. He always cooked for everyone. He made stews, sandwiches and more for every person in this little neighborhood. Sometimes money was tight, and people didn’t have it for meals, but horror? He was a lifesaver.

Always volunteering, always wanting to help out with livestock, harvesting, and most importantly, food.

You smirk, getting up from your porch and making your way over to his house. As you walk your way up his porch with your boots clicking on the old wood, the door was open and you could hear the sound of wood and pot hitting against each other and a thoughtful hum from the big guy.

You lean onto the railing of his porch and call out,

“Heyya big guy, whatcha cookin up in there?” The sounds of the kitchen stop for a bit. You could hear a particular laugh of a kid who probably was running and being chased around.

Heavy steps make their way over before you could see his head, looking over the door frame that leads into the kitchen. His big red eye light was fixated on you, black dot in the middle going here to there slightly.

“..Gumbo.” He finally huffs out, “but… need.. help.” He was slow but careful with his words, seemingly shrinking into himself.

You hum, and walk all the way up the porch, going up to the doorframe and peaking inside.

“What do ya need help with?” You ask. He nods his head towards the kitchen and you take that as your invitation inside. You walk inside, looking around. It was relatively cozy! With a nice big couch and a shelf full of who knows what. When you make your way inside the kitchen you saw how.. neat it was. Pristine and organized.

Knives hung up against the wall, the stove clean and not rusty, cabinets polished, a light hung from above. On the stove you could see a giant pot with a wooden spoon. Then you could see Horror himself. He had an apron on that said ‘kiss the cook’ that you held in a laugh once you saw it. He wore a short sleeved white shirt that showed off his arm bones, and regular black pants.

You lean against the door frame and watch as he gets a spoonful of Gumbo in the wooden spoon and hold it out to.. you?

You take the invitation gladly, letting him feed you. Once you tasted it, you knew what was off. There wasn’t enough flavor. He brings the spoon back, watching your reaction. You hum and nod, looking off to the side befor starting back up, moving around him and grabbing the ingredient it needed most. Pepper.

You grab it and dash it into the pot, looking inside at the delicious gumbo, before gently grabbing the spoon from Horrors hand,grabbing a spoonful and giving it a taste before holding it out for horror to taste.

He does, and the black dot in the sea of red dilates happily. He hums and nods.

“Perfect. Thanks.. lamb chop.” He ruffles your hair and you stagger back, giggling.

“Aye! Hehe- your welcome big guy.” You pat his shoulder, moving around him and grabbing bowls, “can I help ya serve everyone?”

“Sure.”

And so that night you helped serve out bowls to everyone, giving them their fair share of Gumbo. You got yours, horror handing it to you once everyone was served. You took it, appreciating horror and his kindness and willingness to help. You sat on your porch, eating it happily as you stared up at the northern star, bright and beautiful.

Eventually Horror came up and sat next to you. The two of you talked to each other, finishing your bowls.

#bad sansuary #day 6 #horror x reader #horror sans #farm #princess and the frog #gumbo #undertale #farmland #idk man #yeah #i’m gonna cry #i’m going insane #yay

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rad-roche · 4 months

Note

I love your bg3 character…. I keep seeing her and going Mm.m big Woman….

Any characterization tidbits you’re thinking about? I’ve really enjoyed reading DWW and I’m CRAVING more thoughts from your head

thank you!! i've been cookin up a little backstory for ratanir. i kind of work backwards. usually i'll get to the end of a game, then pick through retroactively for things i think would be cool or interesting, then make that the character. gloria being as blunt and offputting as she is came as a result of having 3 charisma and failing every persuasion check going, including nick's romance! some ratanir lore under the cut, subject to tweaking and change in the future

for ratanir, i think she's the product of a happy, if unusual, marriage. her father is a human accountant, her (now very elderly) mother was a very successful war general in her time. they became trapped together after both of their camps were blind sided by a raiding party and hit it off. really hit it off. they had ratanir, who took her mother's surname and general habit of never wearing shirts. part custom, part advertisement

when she came of age, she bummed around baldur's gate, doing mercenary work. odd-job to odd-job, picking up tattoos as she went. there's not much of safety in being a sword for hire, but being nearly seven feet tall and hundreds of pounds of muscle means it's a reliable income. it was supposed to be a buffer job until she figured out what she wanted, but she's been doing it for 20 years. her mother doesn't like that she's crushing skulls for pretty bad reasons. her father doesn't like that she's crushing skulls at all.

i think there's something really funny in a berserker barbarian actually having a pretty moderate, even-headed personality. she really isn't all that quick to anger. it's like when professional chefs go home after a hard day of cooking delicious meals and throw something easy in the microwave. save it for the day job, y'know? she's more inclined to let a slight go than pursue it. she's good with animals and kids. pretty popular with the ladies, for obvious reasons, but is too flaky to really make a good girlfriend. of course, then she gets Tadpole'd. it turns out what she wants is 'not to have a brain eating tadpole', so that triggers some growth in her

#ratanir onag #bg3 #tav #text post #gloria roche #dead man talking #dead woman walking #thank you! here are my thoughts. no hammer and spoon required #trying to figure out alignment i think. chaotic good?

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warriorofdragons · 2 years

Text

Dinner and A Serenade

Word Count: 2.9k

You knock on the door and wait, a moment passes and you glance down at your outfit. You’re wearing a light blue, gingham pattern shirt with a square neckline and mid-wash jeans, and spotting a wrinkle on your shirt you smooth it down again.

You knock on the door again.

You hear footsteps quickly approaching the door, “Comin’!” your date shouts, he opens the door and smiles wide at you, “Well, don’t you look lovely,” Cole says.

You smile wide to match his as steps aside to let you in.

“Sorry, I was takin’ dinner out of the oven,” Cole says.

“It’s alright,” you say, and then you inhale and get a good whiff of the aforementioned dinner, “It smells good.”

Cole smiles, “Wait ‘till you taste it, it’s one of my favorite recipes.”

You follow Cole into his kitchen after taking off your shoes at the door. He slips back on his oven mitt onto his right hand and lifts up the lid of the dutch oven pot.

“Carne Adovada,” Cole annoucnes proudly.

You inhale again and sigh, “It smells delicious.”

Cole chuckles, “It is,” he says and gestures for you to have a seat.

You sit down in the place at the table that he’s already set for you and then hang your purse off the back of your chair. Cole then takes your plate from in front of you and fills it with the Carne Adovada and a side of rice.

“Now normally I don’t eat pork, But…I make an exception for this dish,” Cole says as he places your plate back down in front of you.

“Oh? Why don’t you eat pork?” you ask.

Cole shrugs as he takes his own plate, “Just more of a personal reason, really.”

You smile as you watch Cole fill his own plate with an enormous helping of food as he sets it back down on the table. Not to say that he didn’t give you plenty of food you just think he maybe would have been better off using two plates, if he was going to pile this one that high. Your new boyfriend then turns to the refrigerator to fetch a pitcher of sweet tea, and you pick up your fork and take a bite of your Carne Adovada.

“Mmm, this is good,” you say covering your mouth with your hand.

Cole smiles as he pours tea into your glass, “I’m glad you like it, I got the recipe from this one restaurant in New Mexico that I often frequented.”

Cole pours himself a glass of tea next and then sets the pitcher down in the middle of the table and sits down.

“Must be pretty special to you then,” you say taking another bite.

Cole smiles, “Heh, yeah got a lot of memories at that place.”

“Good or bad?” you ask furrowing your brows.

“Both, it’s often both,” Cole says.

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug, “I guess that’s how it is with a lot of things.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Cole says.

You mix some of your rice in with your Carne Adovada and take another bite, and you’re delighted with how well the rice pairs with it.

“How have things been with you?” Cole asks chewing on his own mouthful.

“Oh, they’ve been good,” you say.

“Didn’t have any trouble on your last mission did ya?” Cole asks.

You shake your head, “No, it was pretty much a piece of cake. Why? Were you worried about me?” you ask smiling and leaning towards him.

Cole smiles and looks down, “‘Course, I was. I always worry about the people I care about, and besides I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” you say, “I’ve been looking forward to our next date too.”

This is only your third date with Cole since it’s been a bit busy in Overwatch lately, so you’ve had to take a couple of rainchecks on this date. But you’re really glad that Cole has been looking forward to this as much as you have.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” you say.

Cole chuckles, “Well, when you spend as much time on the road as I have a little cookin’ helps make things more palatable.”

“This is a bit more than roasting something over a fire,” you say.

Cole shrugs and smiles, “I might have also learned how to cook in my Blackwatch years. You can only eat like a starved coyote so many times before someone steps in and makes you learn how to cook.”

You laugh, “I would have kind of liked to have seen that.”

“No, you don’t, trust me,” Cole says laughing.

You’re really glad to see Cole again, you’ve missed him, missed his laugh, and his smile.

And his kiss.

You bite your lip a little at the thought and take another bite of food to distract yourself.

When you finish clearing your plate Cole asks, “Did you get enough to eat, Pumpkin?”

“Oh yeah, I’m stuffed,” you say.

Cole takes your plate, “You sure? There’s plenty more.”

“I don’t think I could eat another bite, Cole,” you say laughing.

“Alright, “ Cole says smiling and then he takes both of your plates to the sink and rinses them off before setting them in the dishwasher.

You take another sip of your tea.

“So what do you want to do now?” Cole asks, “We could watch a movie if you’d like?”

You get up from your chair and push it back in, “We could…but I’ve kinda been wanting to hear you play.”

“My guitar?” Cole asks with his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, you said you play,” you say.

Cole dries his hands off on a towel, “I’d love to, come on, it’s in my bedroom.”

You follow Cole to his bedroom and he opens the door and heads for the orange and black-rimmed guitar sitting on it’s stand next to the window. Cole picks it up and then sits down on the edge of his bed, he then pats the spot next to him.

You sit down next to him and scooch closer, but not close enough to bump his guitar.

“Got any requests?” Cole asks with a grin.

“Oh uh…I really don’t know what you know how to play so…surprise me?” you ask.

“Well, okay,” he says and stops to think for a moment, he seems to get an idea and then he tunes his guitar for a moment, “This one’s a western song about a train heist.”

“Ooh,” you coo.

Cole smiles and starts to strum his guitar, you watch as his fingers shift position every time he hits a new chord and then he starts to sing,

“The Texan sun’s blisterin’ down as I’m sweatin’ in the saddle,

Been waiting’ all day just to catch a glimpse…

Of the elusive beast, The Horse of Rail.”

You feel an excitement bubble up in your chest at hearing his voice, you’ve heard him sing before And to you no less, but you don’t think you could ever get used to him singing.

“A faint rumble begins under my steed’s hooves, and as I squint I catch a glint;

The chatter spreads through my old posse as we all take note;

Of what’s a comin’ down that old rail,

Snortin’ and thunderin’ along, with a great plume of smoke trailin’ behind;

Here it comes, The Horse of Rail,” Cole sings.

As he finishes the first verse the chord progression gets faster and faster like it’s mimicking the sound of the approaching train.

“A swift kick and a hollered “Hiya!” and we run the beast down,

Brandishing our pistols near it’s head, it startles and whistles;

Before screeching to a halt, leavin’ a trail of sparks,” Cole continues to sing.

Cole’s hand slides down the neck of the guitar and the chords rise in pitch for a few beats before resuming an action-packed pace.

“One of our boys keeps ‘em pinned while we rush off to collect our loot,

I leap into the cabin after the boss who yells, “Stick ‘em up!”

Heads turn and lips aquiver as one by one their hands all raise,

Then the men get to makin’ quick their thieving work;

Jewelry, watches, and finer things plucked from necks, pockets, and extended wrists;

Courtesy of the rich ladies and gents all aboard their commute,

Having finished the job, we all turn tail;

Our newfound riches tucked nice and safe in sacks tied to our britches,

One by one we make the jump out onto horseback, and flee the scene,” Cole sings as he places his right hand on the strings to stop them for a couple more beats and then he continues playing, “A clear whistle the boss calls out and our boy rejoins our posse,

And we ride off having conquered the great, steel beast, The Horse of Rail.”

Cole plays the last few bars before finally turning to you, “Well, what’d you think?” he asks.

“That was great! You have a really lovely singing voice, Cole, I think I could listen to you all night long,” you say sweetly.

Cole smiles wide and you can make out a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he runs his left hand through his hair, “You flatter me, Darlin’,” Cole says still smiling, “I think you’ve got a pretty voice too, ‘course I also just think you’re pretty.”

You smile and let out a small giggle, “I was about to ask if you meant singing voice, but…” you say and lean forward and kiss his cheek.

Cole is surprised for a moment and then he leans down towards you and the two of you kiss. You place a hand on his cheek to help steady you both as you continue to kiss him and it’s like all the time spent apart has just melted away in an instant.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Cole breathes parting from your lips.

You giggle against his mouth and kiss him again before pulling back to say, “It’s not like we didn’t talk everyday.”

“I know,” Cole sighs before giving you another kiss, “But I missed being able to do this.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

Cole wraps his right arm around and pulls you even closer to his side, “And I missed being able to hold you.”

You smile and kiss him yet again.

Cole smiles at you happily as he pulls back and places his right arm back over his guitar, “You…want me to sing you somethin’ else?” Cole asks, “Since you like listenin’ to me sing ’n all.”

“Pretty please?” you plead.

Cole smiles, “‘Course, Sweetheart, anything for you.”

Cole begins to strum his guitar and this time the tune is much more upbeat and lighthearted, no doubt to match the smile now on Cole’s face.

And as he begins to sing the lyrics match the beat of the guitar, “As I ride into town a pretty, little thing catches my eye,” he sings looking over to you and giving you a wink.

You can’t help but smile at your boyfriend.

Cole smiles too as he continues to sing, “She smiles at me and we get to talking and that’s when she asks me, “If I ever yearn to be something more than a cowboy,”

And that’s when I say, “Ever since I was little there was only one thing I wanted to be,

And that’s a Cowboy, Baby,

I want to ride horses across the plains and a catch them trains,

I want to sit in dusty, old bars and smoke cigars,

I want to carry a six shooter on my hip and give a no-good ruffian a busted lip,

I’ll be a hootin’ and a hollerin’ when I’m a Cowboy, Baby.”

You giggle at how unbelievably Cole the chorus is.

“She nods along, a smile on her lips and says, “Well, I just happen to like a good cowboy,”

And I said, “Darlin’, I noticed, and I’m the finest cowboy this town’ll ever see,”

Then she says to me, “Will you take me away from this one horse town?”

And I said, “Climb on up, Sweetheart, there’s room in this saddle for two,”

Because I want to ride horses across the plains and a catch them trains,

I want to sit in dusty, old bars and smoke cigars,

I want to wear boots, and hats, and tassels and maybe even wrassle,

But most of all I want to be your Cowboy, Baby,

Now I’m riding off into the sunset; a pretty, little lady in tow,

And I’ve got everything a cowboy could ever want and that’s when she says, “You’re my Cowboy, Baby,”

It’s all I ever wanted to be,

Yes, it’s all I ever wanted to be,

And that’s a Cowboy, Baby,” Cole sings as he finishes the song.

You begin to clap a little for him.

Cole smiles and chuckles before ruffling his hair.

“That was a really sweet song, Cole, I loved it,” you say.

He smiles at you, “I’m glad you liked it, Pumpkin, it was…the song my Dad used to sing for my Mama.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “Really?” you ask softly.

Cole hasn’t talked to you much about his family.

He’s mentioned his time in Blackwatch and some of his Deadlock days, and the two of you have talked at length about everything else you could think of on your long phone calls while the two of you were apart on missions. But this…

“Yeah,” Cole chuckles as he strums a few notes as he stares off, lost in the memory, “It was kind of their song, my Mama always loved music and my Dad learned to play this just for her.”

You let out a small laugh, “How romantic of him.”

Cole glances back over at you and laughs too, “I guess you can see where I got it from,” he says with a wink.

You bump your shoulder against his playfully.

Cole smiles wider at you before glancing down at his guitar pick and then he sticks it back between the strings at the top of it.

“It’s a nice song, I really like it,” you say softly.

Cole looks up at you and smiles again and then he leans towards you and kisses you.

And as Cole pulls back you see him glance over at the clock on the wall, “Is it that late already?” he asks disappointment lacing his voice.

You glance back at the clock behind you, it’s a little after ten.

“I guess you should probably head home soon,” Cole continues.

“Yeah,” you mutter disappointed as well as you look back up at him.

Cole then stands and moves to set his guitar back on it’s stand.

You on the other hand remain seated on your boyfriend’s bed as you grip your knees.

You’ve missed him so much, you don’t want to leave just yet.

Cole shifts on his feet a little.

But you don’t want to make things awkward if he’s ready for you to leave, so you stand up finally, “Well, goodnig-“

“Do you wanna stay over?” Cole interrupts.

You look up at him in surprise, “What?”

He clasps his hand nervously and then gestures to you, “I don’t feel comfortable with you driving this late at night, especially by yourself and…well I’d really like you to stay.”

You stare at him in silence for another moment.

“If you want to that is,” Cole says.

You smile, “Cole, I’d love to,” you say softly.

Cole meets your eyes and smiles wide, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree, “I…I actually packed a bag just in case, it’s in the trunk of my car.”

This makes the cowboy’s smile grow even wider.

“I can go get it if you want me to-“ you begin.

“No, no, I’ll get it for you, just need your keys,” Cole says excitedly.

You retrieve your keys from your purse and you hand them to him and of course tell him where your car is parked. He comes back from retrieving your overnight bag slightly out of breath and you’re fairly certain he ran all the way back.

He lets you use his master bathroom to change and when you’re dressed in your pajama shorts and sleep shirt you leave the bathroom to find Cole already shirtless and wearing a pair of tan, plaid pajama pants. You stare at his back muscles when he suddenly turns to face you and catches you in the act of ogling him.

“Checkin’ me out?” he asks with a smile.

“Oh shush,” you say slightly embarrassed.

Cole then flexes both of his arms for you and you hide your face.

Cole’s already pulled back one side of the covers so you make your way over to the left side of the bed and pull back the comforter.

Once you get settled in bed, Cole turns out the light and you feel the mattress sink down and hear him tuck himself into bed next to you. You turn towards Cole and can see that he’s already looking at you, “Oh your arm-“ you begin realizing that you’re on his left side.

“I’m fine, Baby,” he assures you, “…I’d like to cuddle with you though.”

“I’d like that too,” you say softly.

You move closer to Cole and he lifts up his left arm and you tuck yourself next to his body. He then lowers his arm around your shoulder and pulls you even closer.

You lay your head on his firm, broad chest and he’s delightfully fuzzy, and you end up rubbing your face against him.

Cole chuckles lightly and brushes his right hand over your arm and traces patterns along your skin, before picking the comforter up to cover you both.

“Goodnight, Cole,” you whisper.

“Goodnight, Pumpkin,” he whispers back.

And you easily and soundly drift off to sleep in his warm embrace.

#cole cassidy #cole cassidy x reader #overwatch

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mysteriaqueen · 1 year

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The Traveler's Journal

Day 1 Part Five | <Prev • Next> | Word Count: 776 words

As the pair walked Amber ended up quite ahead of them. Jaylenth decided against rushing to catch up as she could see Mondstadt and the distance and Paimon knew how to get there if they got really lost. Jaylenth picked up every mushroom, pinecone, apple, and sunsettia she could find. When they began to smell something delicious cooking. Eventually they see a woman standing near a pot and approach her.

“Hmm. What should I cook next?”

She noticed the pair and turned to speak to them.

“Oh! Are you travelers from around here as well?” “No, we just happened to be passing by,” Paimon said, punctuating her sentence with a sniff. "So, Whatcha cookin’?” Jaylenth asked. “It smells really goood!” “I see. Welcome travelers! I’m Lynn, the survival expert of the Adventurers Guild.” “Wowie,” Jaylenth said with widened eyes. “As you can see I’m experimenting with some new recipes.”

Paimon gasped, wearing an expression that may as well be drooling.

“‘Eat before you go.’ --The first rule of the ‘Wilderness Survival Guide.’” “A picnic? Oh Paimon just loves picnics! My travel partner here is good at cooking as well.” “Yeah, cooking is fun.” “Oh, there’s a cooking pot right there,” Lynn said, pointing. “Show me what you got.” “Okay! What am I makin’?” “There are some Mushrooms and meat in the barrel over there. Try making a Chicken-Mushroom Skewer for me.” “Bet.”

Jaylenth looted the barrel and then stepped up to the pot. She slightly stuck her tongue out and focused. Paimon looked at her expressions, bewildered. Unperturbed, Jaylenth went on to make perfect Chicken Mushroom Skewers.

“Wow! Good job!” Paimon cheered. “Hehe, thanks. I’m gonna make some more stuff while we’re here.” “Ooooo! Paimon’s hungry already.” “I’m making this for later.” “Ugh! No fair.”

Along with a few skewers, Jaylenth also made Radish Vegetable Soup and Sweet Madame. After she finished the pair talked to Lynn again.

“Is it done? Mmm… Smells good!”

Lynn began to eat the skewer.

“Oh…” Jaylenth raised an eyebrow. “Ahh… Uh oh,” “Now that’s really tasty! You are indeed gifted!” “Paimon told you so!” “With your culinary skills, you should try more difficult dishes.” “Seriously? Thanks.” Jaylenth replied, awed by the compliment. “You’re welcome. Oh! I’ve got some raw ingredients in my bag. Have them in return for this meal.” “Can we really have them? Won’t you run of ingredients?” “Paimon shh-” “That’s okay. You should be able to find lots of ingredients when exploring the wilderness. Don’t forget to look carefully.“ “I definitely do.” “There’s also a restaurant known as Good Hunter that sells food and ingredients. Go have a look when you’ve got the time.” “Will do.” “Okay, thank you for the info,” Paimon said before suddenly gasping. “Hey! Leave some Chicken-Mushroom Skewers for Paimon!”

They said their goodbyes and continued into Mondstadt. As they walked they came across a bridge. Jaylenth took the time to go over to the left side of the bridge and observe the scenery. Much past the body of water the bridge was built over there was a rather sharp peak. The water, grass, and trees were so beautiful to her that couldn’t help but stop there for a second.

“Mondstadt is pretty.” “All of Teyvat is.”

She walked to the other side of the bridge and saw many peaks across the water. Then she looked straight ahead at the city in front of her. She took in the buildings and windmills before her.

Blinking herself back to reality she began to cross the bridge and noticed a small boy off to the side surrounded by various birds. She walked towards the boy, scaring the birds away.

“What’re you doing?! You’re scaring the pigeons away!”

“Oh! Oh- I am so sorry…. Well, they’ll be back at some point y’know?” "They do come back usually…" "See! They'll be back." "But what happens if one day they leave and never come back again." "Uh- Well-" "Just like Daddy…"

Jaylenth's eyes widened beyond belief. Damn it. Where's Paimon and their constant cheery disposition when you need it? Jaylenth kneeled down in front of the kid and smiled.

"What's your name?" "Timmie." "Well Timmie, I can assure you of one thing. If you keep feeding these pigeons and treating them well they will always come back." "Really?" "Yes. And when they have babies they'll bring them here and you'll get to feed them too." "How do you know?" "Because the birds love you for feeding them and they want to keep coming back. I'm sorry for scaring them away." "Okay…. thank you." "Of course!"

Jaylenth stood up and continued across the bridge into the city.

#a/n #back from the dead #i've written a lot more than this #but none of it is stuff i can post yet #T-T #it's okay tho!#we'll get there someday #enjoy the 2 npc interactions before we get to Mondstadt proper #taggs #genshin #genshin impact #genshin paimon #genshin traveler #genshin oc #genshin timmie #timmie #the traveler's journal #genshin mondstadt #mysteriawrites

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sunken-standard · 2 years

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Sunken's Half-assed Lacto-fermented Radish Kraut-chi Tutorial (or, how to use salt and time to make radishes edible and not poison yourself)

Start with some radishes, whatever you have—Cherry Belles, Sparklers, French Breakfast, White Icicle, Daikon, etc. These are 5.5lbs of Korean Diakon (“Alpine Gold” hybrid) from my garden. You can peel them or not; I don't peel what I grow or buy from local farms, but I do peel things from the grocery store.

Slice them however you want. Coins, matchsticks, quarters (for smaller radishes), cubes, it's all up to you. Different sizes and shapes give different textures and have different fermentation times. Throw them in a bowl and salt to taste. They should be pleasantly salty; not so much that it burns your mouth, but not too lightly either. The sweet spot for me is a little less salty than the average potato chip.

Now you can add your other stuff, if you want. Plain old brined and fermented radishes are yum on their own. I want more of my half-assed kimchi though, so I'm using red cabbage (any will do, I had the red on hand), carrots, sweet onions (from a local farm; green onions work too), ginger, garlic, an apple (yes that was a Red Delicious, and no I didn't use it after all because it was rotten inside, but I did use a Honeycrisp instead), and Gochugaru (this stuff is the mild kind). I only used about half of the ginger and garlic pictured and added more carrot, but you get the idea. If you're using cabbage, keep a few of the (clean, nice-looking) outer leaves for later. You can shred the rest or cut it into squares to be a little closer to real kimchi.

Chop everything up, mixing and tasting as you go--before and after adding more salt. After it's all chopped and mixed and salted and happy, let it sit (covered to keep beasties out) for a half hour to two hours (or even longer, you won't ruin it if you accidentally fall asleep, eh heh).

(I go relatively light on the gochugaru because I’m a wuss)

Make sure you have enough jars or whatever you're going to use for the fermentation. I thought two half-gallons would be enough, but I was wrong. Washing with soap and water is enough, they don't need to be boiled or otherwise sanitized.

Pack the vegetables into the jar, trying the squish out the air spaces as you go. It's going to create a lot of its own brine, and there will be liquid left in the bottom of the mixing bowl (pour that in the jar). The juice probably won't cover the vegetables, so you can top it off with plain brine made at a ratio of 1.5 tsp to 1c water, which should be boiled and cooled if you have city water (to get rid of the chlorine) but doesn't have to be if using well or bottled water. Squish it down again after adding the brine, or use a chopstick to poke around and get the air bubbles out.

If you saved a cabbage leaf, now's the time to mash it into the jar to cover all the vegetables and keep them under the brine. It's not necessary, it just keeps stuff neater. Some people use plastic wrap, but I don't like that myself If I don't have a leaf I just fill the jar about ¾ and cover it with more brine. Weight it down with something (I have fancy glass fermentation weights for jars, but a plastic bag of salt or beans or brine works fine).

Put the lid on the jar loosely (or if you're using something like a crock, cover with a heavy cloth and secure with string or a rubber band), label and date it, and keep it somewhere that doesn't get too hot or too cold, ideally out of direct sunlight. Oh, and put it on a plate or a tray or something, leakage is normal, even if you think you haven't overfilled the jars (ask me how I know -_-). You'll see little bubbles starting about 24 hours later—this is good and means it's cookin'.

(These are dill pickles I started ~48h earlier)

Burp the jars daily and start tasting after about 3 days. When it's sour and the vegetables are a little soft (it'll smell funky, kind of like farts and warm onions, but it's fine), it's ready to go in the fridge. It'll keep for months, maybe even years; just remember to check it because it does keep fermenting, just at a much slower rate.

So yeah, that's it. Sounds like a lot, but it's so, so easy. This is a jar I did like a month ago and I've already eaten about 1/3 of it:

#fermenting #kimchi adjacent #kraut-chi #food in jars #sunken does something useful

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luvnami · 3 years

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𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou @amjustagirl (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist.

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet.

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip. He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week.

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?”

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders.

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?”

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward.

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?”

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief.

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know.

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow.

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds.

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second.

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to-

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry.

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp.

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants.

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though.

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat.

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat.

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes.

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?”

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up.

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!”

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch.

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled.

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag?

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold.

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest.

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality.

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry?

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked.

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?”

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled.

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it.

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided.

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know!

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable.

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy.

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over.

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff.

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his.

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them.

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully.

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!”

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time.

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together.

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say.

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again.

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies.

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron.

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree.

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved.

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed.

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes.

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?”

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger.

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order.

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway.

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself.

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!”

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!”

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years.

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight.

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it.

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu angst #miya osamu fic #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu angst #osamu fic #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq angst #hq fic #hq osamu

567 notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Cravings.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff overdose

Warnings: none

Requested: nope

based off this prompt

Summary: How Y/N's pregnancy cravings led to her becoming friends with Captain America, The White Wolf, The Scarlet Witch and Vision.

Author's Note: hiya peeps! i am in love with Sam Wilson. but like, who isn't? this is sort of an AU, but not really. takes place in phase 4 of mcu. enjoy!

masterlist

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Mm, that smells so good…

Y/N took in a deep breath as a sweet, sweet, tangy smell hit her nose. "You smell it, honey?" she cooed, cupping her bulging abdomen as her baby kicked once. Then the kicking increased and she groaned, heaving herself off the couch. "Baby, we can't have it, it's not our food. We already had dinner, sweet—" She whined when her baby kicked twice.

"Maybe they'll understand…?" she whispered to herself. Y/N was 8 months pregnant and lately, her cravings had been at an all time high. Every time she got a craving for something she couldn't have, the baby in her belly wouldn't stop kicking and she'd go to sleep upset, tired and hurt. And today, the baby wanted whatever the neighbors were cooking.

She wasn't really familiar with the neighbors; she liked keeping to herself, and with the addition of the baby and single parenthood, she didn't want to disturb anyone or break the peace. Soon, the kicking got really uncomfortable and Y/N grabbed a plate, walking out of the house. They'll understand, she told herself, they have to. If not then they're heartless cows.

"So, Wilson, you've got a nice apartment here, thought you were living with your sister and nephews at the docks," Bucky grinned, popping open a bottle of beer. "Moved out a couple weeks ago, didn't wanna intrude. Plus she has a boyfriend, it's getting kinda serious between them…" Sam chuckled, "Wanda, whatcha cookin? Smells really good!"

A very pregnant Wanda Maximoff walked out of the kitchen, a huge smile on her face. She was 7 months in with twins. "I'm cooking Borscht, it's a traditional Ukrainian recipe that I like very much. You're gonna love it," she gushed and Bucky raised his glass in mock toast. "Can't wait!" Just then, the bell rang. "I'll get it!" Sam shouted, walking up to the door.

He opened it and saw his neighbor standing there, holding an empty plate. Her head was downcast and she was squirming, fidgeting. Sam had seen her once or twice since he moved in; she was very much pregnant, and she liked keeping to herself so he never invaded her privacy. "Hi, how can I help ya?" He smiled at her. She got startled and looked up, opening her mouth.

Y/N was speechless. She already felt bad about asking her neighbor something like this and now he reveals himself to be this handsome?! "Hello…?" she snapped out of her thoughts and cleared her throat. "I— I'm sorry, I don't wanna intrude…" Bucky showed up behind Sam and she glanced at him, her eyes going wide.

"You have company, oh no, I'm sorry— not now, baby, let's just go—" she whispered, wincing and whimpering in pain when the baby started kicking again. Sam nodded his head towards Bucky who got the hint and left. He then walked outside and closed the door behind him, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Hey, you can ask me anything, what happened?"

"It's embarrassing…"

"Come on, sweetheart, I'm your neighbor! Sam, by the way, Sam Wilson." She gave him a timid smile. "Y/N Y/L/N. It's just… whatever you're cooking smells really nice and I got a craving; it's wrong, it's your food, your party and I'm intruding like an idiot, it's just— my baby gets really agitated when I don't get what I'm craving for and they kick all night, I'm so sorry—"

Sam grabbed both her shoulders, silencing her. "Don't be embarrassed by this. It's fine, you got a craving? I'll give you some of the food! Wanda, my friend who's cooking, is also 7 months pregnant, believe it or not. She'll be so happy to give you the food, it's a new recipe she's trying and the more people there to eat the better. Why don't you join us?" Y/N sniffled, the kindness of her neighbor and her pregnancy hormones reducing her to tears.

"You're so kind," she whispered and Sam laughed, giving her a warm hug. "But I don't want to intrude." He sighed but understood. "Okay, how about when she's done cooking, you take some of the food home? Will that be okay?" She nodded. "In the meantime, I'd love for you to meet my friends. Wanda especially, wanna come in?" Y/N agreed and the two walked into the apartment.

Bucky and Vision, who were in the sitting room at the time, looked up. Y/N gave them an awkward smile, raising a hand to wipe her tears off. "Hi there," Vision greeted. "Hello, I'm… I'm Y/N, Sam's neighbor, it's nice to meet you," she mumbled shyly. "Hi Y/N, I'm Bucky and this is Vision," Bucky introduced and she nodded. "So, um, there's gonna be a party here…?"

"Oh no, just old friends catching up over dinner. Wanda!" The woman walked out of the kitchen, her eyes lighting up when she saw Y/N. "Hey!" Y/N smiled at her. "Hi, I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." Wanda beamed at Sam. "Your neighbor? Very nice to meet you too, miss!" After a small conversation the Scarlet Witch went back to the kitchen while Sam coaxed Y/N into sitting.

"So, what brings you here?" Bucky asked, glancing at the empty plate. "Cravings," Y/N sighed as Sam followed Wanda to the kitchen, "My baby gets really agitated when I don't get what I'm craving, it's a problem… I didn't want to intrude, it's just… the food smells so nice and I… I actually want to sleep tonight. Just a tiny portion, I'll be gone before you know it."

Bucky frowned at her words. "Gone— hey, we don't mean to make you feel unwelcome here, why don't you stay for dinner? I'm sure Sam offered too, it's really not a big deal. You won't be intruding and Wanda will be delighted to have another member around who wants to eat her traditional recipe, right Vis?" Vision smiled at Y/N and nodded. "Yes, please stay."

"Okay, since you're asking so nicely," she joked and all three of them laughed. "Dinner's ready! Who wants some Borscht?!" Wanda exclaimed gleefully, walking out of the kitchen with a pile of plates and cutlery as Sam followed with a pot with steam coming out of it. "Guess what? Y/N's decided to stay!" Bucky announced and all of them cheered, Wanda giving Y/N a hug.

"That's amazing news!"

"Oh, you managed to talk her into it, how nice…"

Bucky smirked and swung an arm over Sam's shoulders. "Girls like me better than you, pal, accept— ow! I was joking!" Y/N giggled as Sam shoved Bucky off him, giving him a punch on the arm for good measure. "You two seem like really good friends," she commented and Vision scoffed. "You should've seen them when they first met. Couldn't stand each other."

"Oh please, every great friendship starts out like that, am I right?" Wanda nudged Y/N and she grinned. The five of them sat down to eat; Sam served everyone the Borscht. "So, how many months along are you?" Wanda questioned. "8, how about you?" "7, there's twins in there." Y/N gasped. "How lovely! I've always wanted twins, they're so cool."

"I used to have a twin brother," Wanda shrugged. "That's— wow. So, which one of the three is it? Or is he at home?" Y/N smirked. "Vision here, we got married a year ago, it was a small ceremony, only close friends." Y/N grinned at Vision. "Awesome! Congratulations, guys!" Vision and Wanda smiled at each other. "How about you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Y/N's mood dimmed slightly but she kept the smile on her face. "My ex, he got me pregnant. Not really much of a happy story; I love my baby, I really do but I'm gonna have to raise them alone; he said he doesn't even want to visit, let alone pay child support, I just— come on, I'm boring you with the story, I don't wanna be a Debby Downer," she waved in dismissal.

"That's so wrong of him! Give us a name and we'll make that bastard pay up," Sam glared, which made Y/N smile a bit. "It's okay, Sam, you don't have to. I have a nice job, and he isn't that good of a person anyway, it's better if he's out of my life for good. I can't wait to try the Borscht, Wanda." Dinner after that was fun and fairly uneventful.

---

Y/N was watching TV the next morning when someone rang the doorbell. She blinked and opened the door to see Sam standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile on his face. "Sam, hi, what brings you here?" she smiled back at him. "Have you had breakfast?" Y/N frowned slightly and shook her head. "Not yet, I was just about to cook. Why?"

"Will you join me? There's a lot of Borscht left if you're interested." She grinned at him; how had she not introduced herself to him earlier?! "That sounds really nice, thank you for the offer! Let's go." The two walked to Sam's apartment and Y/N sat on the couch as Sam went to the kitchen to get the food. "I actually have something to ask," Sam began as the two sat down to eat.

"What happened?" Y/N questioned curiously, a hand resting on her belly as she ate the delicious Borscht. "I want you to tell me about all your cravings from now on. Anything you want, no matter how weird. I really want to help you, Y/N, will you allow me to do it? I just… I don't want you to suffer anymore, I'm here for you. A friend. Please?" Y/N blinked at him, shocked.

Surely he wasn't that nice? "You really want to do that?" she gasped. "I do. I feel really bad about how your ex just left you so vulnerable and full of responsibility, and he won't even help with the baby, I— I want to take some of the responsibility. It'll make me feel good." Y/N nodded instantly. "That's so nice of you, thank you! I'd love that, you offering to help… you're an angel."

Sam flushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck, a goofy smile on his face. "Just helping a friend in need." The doorbell rang all of a sudden and Sam sat up, alert. "What?" Y/N whispered. "I'm not expecting anyone. Stay here." Grabbing a gun from a drawer near the dining table Sam put it in his back pocket and went to answer the door. Upon opening the door, he saw a man.

The man was dressed in black trousers and a band t-shirt, his hair a rough mess and a glare on his face. "Can I help you?" Sam frowned. "Your neighbor, Y/N, have you seen her? I'm her ex boyfriend." Sam's blood boiled when he introduced himself but he kept his cool. "I haven't seen her, I'm sorry. She isn't very social, you know and I respect people's privacy."

The man groaned and left. Sam returned to the living room, keeping his gun away with a sigh. "What happened, Sam, everything okay?" Y/N asked worriedly when he sat back down in front of his plate. "Don't be mad." Y/N's frown deepened with confusion. "Why, who was at the door?" He looked up at her. "Your ex. I sent him away. Did you want to talk to him?"

Y/N froze for a minute but then scoffed, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Thank you for that, I wasn't ready to see him. I'm not mad at you, by the way." Sam nodded and the two spent the rest of breakfast in silence.

---

"Y/N! I know you're in there!"

"Go away!"

Upon hearing the commotion out in the corridor Sam opened his front door, seeing Y/N's ex boyfriend banging on the door to her apartment. 3 weeks had passed since he showed up at Sam's house. "Is there a problem here?" he asked calmly and the ex boyfriend turned to him. "Dude, it's none of your business," he sneered but Sam simply raised an eyebrow.

"Y/N is my friend, I think I'd know when she'd want me to intervene."

"Well now's not the time, pal, go back in! Y/N and I are having a personal conversation," he scoffed. "Oh really? Because to me it sounds like she's asking you to go away," Sam rolled his eyes. All of a sudden Y/N's front door swung open and she stepped out, looking between both men. Her eyes lit up when she saw Sam.

Over the course of 3 weeks, Y/N had come to like Sam a lot. Along with being handsome as fuck, he was also really kind, sweet and caring; he bought for her all that she craved, let it be the middle of the night or the afternoon. She also found out that he was an Avenger, previously used to be known as the Falcon but now, Captain America. She trusted him even more, knowing he'd protect her from anything.

"Sam!" she smiled brightly, pushing past her ex to run to Sam. He gave her a tight hug, keeping an arm around her as they both turned to Y/N's ex, who was staring at them, jaw dropped. "A friend, huh, Sam?" he sneered but Sam only stared at him with disdain. "Don't talk to him like that! You weren't even here when I needed you, and now I have an awesome guy helping me with things and you suddenly wanna show up?!"

"Y/N—"

"No, you shut up! You're just a coward and— and an asshole and I don't want anything to do with you anymore. Leave and if you come back, I'll call the police on you, I swear—" Sam cut her off by chuckling wryly. "Sweetheart, I'm an Avenger, are you forgetting? Next time this guy shows up, call Bucky. I'll give you his number. I'm sure Buck will have a lotta fun teaching this guy a lesson."

Y/N beamed at Sam. "Okay!" Y/N's ex stared at the two, jaw dropped. "You're both crazy," he whispered, "Crazy maniacs, I tell you!" Y/N and Sam stared after him with broad smiles as the man left, grumbling under his breath. "Ugh, he's been showing up every day for 3 weeks, and today he created a scene. So sorry about that, Sam, I hope I didn't disturb anything."

"Aw, Y/N, you know I care about you. Don't worry, I was just watching TV. He shows up again, you call me first. I'm always here for you." Y/N gave him a timid smile, rubbing her belly. "I actually wanted to ask you something if you don't mind…" Sam nodded at her to go on. The truth was, he liked her too. She was super adorable, and the pregnant belly of hers made her glow like an angel.

One of the main reasons why he decided to help her out so eagerly was the fact that he wanted to get closer to her, maybe ask her out someday in the future. They would be a happy little family; Sam, Y/N and the baby. He was ready to look after them both, no bias to the baby. "...Sam?" He snapped out of his thoughts, blinked and shook his head.

"Sorry, sorry, got lost in thoughts. What?" The timid smile was back on her face. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go on a date sometime with me… of course you can say no, I won't mind, but I'd really like it if you say yes…" No way. "Y/N, I'd love to go on a date with you, that's fantastic! How about this Saturday, two days from now, at 8 we go to dinner?"

Y/N smiled brightly at his words. "Oh— okay, okay, that will be great! Yeah, yeah, Saturday works for me. So, um, see you then— or maybe before that if I need something, I—" Sam smiled at her endearing behavior as he skittishly ran back to her apartment, a giddy smile on her face. "The things you do to me, Ms Y/L/N," Sam laughed to himself as he went back to his own apartment.

---

A loud, wailing noise pulled Sam out of his slumber. He immediately sat up and checked his phone, walking out of his apartment to ring Y/N's doorbell. She opened the door with a tired smile on her face, greeting him with a quick kiss. "Little one giving you trouble?" he smiled fondly as the two went to the baby's bedroom, who was sobbing at the top of his lungs.

A few days had passed since Y/N had given birth, and since Sam and Y/N started dating. She had a little boy; they named him Luke. "The crying just doesn't stop," Y/N sighed, leaning against the doorframe as Sam entered the bedroom, picking Luke up. The baby quieted instantly, peering up at Sam with his big eyes. "There, there, don't cry. We gotta let your mommy get some sleep or she becomes very cranky."

"Hey!" Sam grinned at her. "I was only kidding, darling, you know I like you," he winked and Y/N shook her head. "Good thing I like you too." A few minutes later, as the baby fell asleep again, Sam's phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw multiple, hurried texts from Vision. "What happened?" Y/N asked him as he stared at the phone, trying to make sense of the messages. "I don't know."

Y/N grabbed his phone and looked through the cryptic messages, her eyes going wide. "Wanda is in labor! The twins are coming," she whispered and an incredulous expression showed up on Sam's face. "She's only 8 months in, that can't be right." Y/N slapped her forehead. "They're twins, Cap, they always come early. Go to the hospital, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

They shared another kiss, giving each other smiles. "I'll see you then." Sam then left the apartment, rolling his eyes at another weird message Vision had left him.

"For God's sake, you're a robot, how hard is it to type?!"

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

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cycat4077 · 3 years

Text

Proposing Permission

Summary: You and Sonny have been together for a year but your idea of celebrating is slightly different than his. Set during S18 - roughly November 2016. Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: None, except fluff...and maybe suggestive hints here and there ;) Words: 2479 AO3 here

Technically part 13 in the Changes verse, but can act as a stand-alone, too!

“Mom!” you exclaim as soon as you hear her ‘hello?’ on the end of the line. “You'll never guess what just happened! – Wait, how'd you know? – He did? Of course, he did!” you laugh happily, flashing a bright smile up at Sonny who sits beside you on the sofa.

Sonny would give you the abridged version of the events that led up to this moment later, but at the time, things went a little like this:

-x-

“Uh, Carisi? Where are we going? The turn-off for the I-87 South, is that-a-way…” Amanda turns her body towards the traffic junction that passes by. She then whips back around to stare at her partner in the diver’s seat, a disgruntled look on her face.

“I need ta make a detour,” he states, eyes never leaving the highway.

“But we’re on a case!” she protests, growing irritated.

“Yeah, but we did what we came upstate to do. Got some answers, relayed them to Lieu. Technically, we’re off duty right now.” Sonny taps the wheel with his thumbs, trying to avoid his partner's gaze.

But Amanda Rollins is not one to concede so easily. “Tell me where we’re going, Dominick,” she drops her voice to a stern tone, eyes boring into the side of Sonny’s head.

Sonny lets out a nervous breath and says your name. “Remember how her parents live upstate? Well…” he reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, producing a velvet box. Amanda gasps and nabs it from his grasp. She flips the little box open, finding a ring. “I wanna propose,” admits Sonny, “but I wanna ask her folks first.”

Dragging her eyes away from the box, Rollins frowns. “It’s twenty-sixteen, Sonny…you don’t need parental permission anymore.”

“I know, I know,” dismisses Sonny. “But that’s how my pa did it, and, she’s really close with her parents. It seems right to ask ‘em first.”

Amanda smiles in spite of herself. The gesture is very much a ‘Sonny Carisi’ thing to do. So, she cracks a joke instead. “What’re you gonna do? Salute her dad and say: ‘Requesting permission to marry your daughter, sir!’”

“Rawllins,” he groans, trying to act annoyed while keeping his eyes on the road.

“Do what you gotta do, partner,” she winks before turning her attention back to the box. “This ring is gorgeous!”

-x-

The drive was absolutely beautiful. Being October, the further away from concrete Sonny and Amanda drove, the denser the colourful forests became. It was picture perfect and Sonny’s only wish was that you could have been along to see it too.

Pulling up to your childhood home, Sonny leaves Amanda in the passenger’s seat. Afterall, this detour had to be relatively quick to prevent Lieu from breathing down his neck about it.

As Sonny makes his way to the door, his legs are a little wobbly and his pulse is racing. He has met your parents before and they adore him, yet, as he waits for his knock to be answered, his nerves get the better of him. This is a huge step and he hopes that they believe him worthy of it.

Then the door clicks open to reveal your mother. “Sonny!” she exclaims happily, but immediately her face falls. “Is everything okay?” In hindsight, an unannounced, unaccompanied visit does seem a little concerning.

Clueing in, Sonny immediate puts your mother at ease. “Yeah, yeah!” he reassures with a smile. “Work brought me upstate and I, uh, I wanted ta ask y’both somethin’ while I was up here.”

“Of course, of course!” Your mother ushers Sonny into the house before giving him a giant hug. Just as she releases him your father walks into the room, coming over with a large smile and firm handshake.

“Sir,” greets Sonny with a nod.

The three of them then take a seat at the dining room table; your mother unsurprisingly offers Sonny everything in her fridge. Once satisfied that he’s not lying about not being hungry, she continues. “So, son, what’s on your mind?”

The Italian swallows nervously. He looks to his fingers, thrumming them on the table top while his right knee bounces anxiously. Finally, he begins to speak: “Well, as you know, your daughter and I have been together for a while now and, we love each other very much. I love her very much.” A grin begins to break out on your mom’s face, her intuition giving her a good idea of where the conversation is headed. “And I, uh,” continues Sonny, “well, it seemed only right for me ta ask the two of you first. I w-wanna ask her ta marry me.”

Suspicions confirmed, your mother squeals with delight, grabbing onto your father’s arm and giving it a loving squeeze.

“I got a ring already and everything, if ya wanna see it,” Sonny adds quickly as if it will reenforce how committed he is to you. He pulls out the box once more and hands it over to your mom.

“Oh, Sonny,” she sighs looking up to your boyfriend. “She’s going to absolutely love it.”

“So, I, uh, have both your blessings then?” His blue eyes dart nervously back and forth between your parents.

Finally, your dad chimes in. “Of course!” he exclaims happily, his voice choking up ever so slightly. “You’re a good man and I couldn’t imagine my girl with anyone else.”

Sonny’s stomach does a somersault as he is immediately flooded with relief. “Thank ya!” he leaps to his feet. Your parents stand with him, both delivering their future son-in-law a squeezing hug. Parting, Sonny reluctantly explains that he can’t stay and that he must be getting back to the city.

“Alright, hon,” your mother coos. “Let us know what happens. Your secret is safe with us for now, but we’ll be waiting anxiously by the phone for the happy news!”

“Will do,” beams Sonny before he heads back to the squad car. Your parents wave him goodbye until he’s out of sight.

-x-

It’s your anniversary! One complete year of you and Sonny (finally) getting together! But…the universe really didn’t care about that. Nope! Because a faculty meeting was called on the one day where you didn’t have classes to teach. It ran from midday and into the evening and there was no possible way of getting out of it either. You loved your job, you really did, but today was supposed to be for you and Sonny. Nothing fancy, of course, but you had planned a lazy morning, followed up with cooking together and turning it into a romantic evening celebration.

“Uhhggghhh!” you groan, hanging your head and slouching your shoulders.

Sonny places his warm hands on your arms, grinning. “It’s alright, sweetheart.” You can feel those blue eyes shining down on you and, the next thing you know, a finger is gingerly tilting your chin up towards his. “I ain’t mad at all, okay? Shit happens. Jeez, how many times have I hadta cancel a date with you ‘cause I got called in or hadta work late?”

You bunch your mouth at the corner, frustrated. “I know, but it’s our anniversary and I was looking forward to spending all day with you!”

“So was I, but we can still make the most of it.” He kisses you on the nose. “I’ll go ahead ‘n make dinner and then when ya get home we can celebrate.”

“You sure? It was supposed to be a team effort. I can just grab some takeout on the way home –”

“Nonsense,” Sonny grins. “Besides, my cookin’ is way better than any takeout in the city.” His words make you laugh. “There’s that beautiful smile,” he beams, sweeping the hair back from your eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, doll. Now, go on before you’re late ‘n try not ta fall asleep.”

You give Sonny a sweet kiss and make your way to the door. Before exiting, you flash a sultry look over your shoulder at your smiling boyfriend. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later, babe. It’s just a shame you have to wait so long to see what’s underneath this dress.” You slip out the door before you’re able to see the sign of the cross Sonny makes in attempt to absolve himself of his sinful thoughts.

-x-

The journey back home never felt so exhausting. Maybe it was the fact that the meeting seemed to drag on forever, especially when all you could think about was curling up next to Sonny. Your feet ached in your pumps and you cursed your wardrobe choice. Though, you were still new at the college and thus wanted to make a professional impression.

Once you finally reach your floor, a distinct cooking aroma floats down the hallway. Your stomach grumbles, knowing exactly which apartment is the origin and eager to taste what smells so delicious.

Opening your door, you are greeted by your wonderful boyfriend and his smiling eyes. He’s dressed up in a crisp shirt and slacks. “Welcome home, sweetheart and happy anniversary!”

You smile up at him and step into his outstretched arms. His attire seemed a bit formal, but you weren’t complaining. The way button up shirts hugged his arms and torso always made your face flush and heart beat a little faster. Those same arms also fit perfectly around you when he held you close.

As you begin to withdraw from his embrace however, you notice just how much Sonny is perspiring. “Babe, you alright?” Your brow knits with concern. “You’re sweating a bunch…”

Sonny quickly averts his gaze and turns towards the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he gives a dismissive wave. “The oven’s been on all day.”

You know him well enough to tell that something is not quite right and his half-hearted answer gives you reason to follow him and press the issue. But as you round the corner, you’re stopped dead in your tracks by an elaborate display.

Sonny has gone all out. A hearty meal sits steaming on a table set for two, a single rose in a crystal vase resides at the center, and he’s even arranged some of your candles to provide low lighting. The sight of it all leaves you feeling as though your heart will flutter right out of your chest.

"Sonny," you whisper, hand over your heart. "You didn't have to do all this." You then peer up at him with glassy eyes.

"I wanted tonight to be special. Just you ‘n me celebrating a whole magical year of being together.”

Closing the distance, you lean up and place your lips tenderly to his. Sonny bends forward, deepening the kiss. You run a hand tenderly up the front of his shirt feeling the contours of his muscles beneath your fingers. Sonny reaches to cover your hand with his, grasping it carefully and reluctantly pulling it away. Breaking apart, he smiles, "Food's gonna get cold, doll."

The two of you sit down to a quiet, romantic dinner, clinking glasses in a toast to your relationship. But Sonny still has beads of sweat forming along his brow. "Babe, are you sure you're alright?" you point to his forehead. "It's not that hot in here..."

He swallows thickly, looking away. "Yeah...I'm just a little nervous is all." Sonny then focuses on you with big, blue eyes.

Yours narrow in confusion. Nervous? Why would he be nervous? It just us here...

Sonny flashes you shy smile before reaching across the table to take your hand in his. He stares at it in contemplation as he runs his thumb lovingly over your knuckles.

Biting his lip, he shifts those gorgeous eyes back to yours. "We've been through a lot in a year, doll," he begins. "And last summer I never knew how my life would change when you walked through that squad room door. I never knew that I could love someone so completely until I fell in love with you. My whole heart is yours and -"

"Sonny!" you release a sweet laugh. "You don't owe me a speech! I know how much you love me, silly! And I hope you know how much I love you too."

Suddenly, Sonny seems a little terrified. Had he rehearsed this or something?

"Just hear me out, ‘kay?" he implores following a shaky breath.

You smile softly and squeeze his hand signaling for him to continue.

"Believe me, doll, I've never felt more loved by anyone but you. I love waking up with ya in the mornin' and fallin' asleep together at night. My heart skips a beat thinkin' about a future with you. So, I guess that's why I'm sweatin'."

All of a sudden the warmth of Sonny's hand disappears. He shifts to get up from the table, slipping his fingers into his pocket. Then you realize that he's getting down on one knee. Your heart begins to thunder in your chest and a gasp catches in your throat.

Sonny's eyes lock onto yours as he produces a velvet box and opens it. There sits a white gold ring topped by a dainty solitaire diamond. Your eyes immediately rim with tears as you hear Sonny softly speak your name. "Will you marry me?"

A large smile erupts upon your face and you instantly blurt out a "yes!"

Sonny's expression changes to one of pure love. He delicately slips the ring on your finger and quickly rises to capture your lips in a kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he effortlessly scoops you up. "I'm so happy," you speak against his lips, eliciting a tight squeeze from your fiancé.

Fiancé! Sonny Carisi is your fiancé! The man you love with your whole heart. You've always believed that it isn’t the ring on their finger that make two people married – that’s at least how committed you feel towards Sonny – Yet now, you couldn’t be happier to make what you share official.

"I'm so happy too, doll! I love you! I love you! I love you!" Sonny reciprocates in between swift kisses to your cheeks, nose and lips. Then his eyes darken and he bows his head towards your neck, nibbling and suckling at the sensitive skin that resides there.

You sigh, a tingling sensation spreading throughout your body. God, is he good at this! But then, your mind comes back to reality and you gently, albeit reluctantly, push him away. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” you chant, tapping your hands lightly on his chest.

Sonny pulls back but his eyes still hungrily flicker to where his lips were focused mere moments before.

“I have to go call my mom! She’d kill me if she knew I didn’t tell her right away.” You watch as Sonny smirks. “But then I promise we’ll celebrate properly…after all, you still haven’t seen what’s underneath this dress.”

-x-

Fluffy enough for ya? Heehee

Tag list? @barbasbodaciousbeard @teamsladsandgents @adarafaelbarba @caracalwithchips @averyhotchner (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

#Sonny Carisi #sonny carisi x reader #Sonny Carisi x You #sonnyshine of my life #law and order svu #SVU fanfiction #the Changes Verse #my fanfic #changes #SVU s18

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