Request made by: @alpacaewfan !!
Held in the Small Moments — MOTM
Summary: What starts as a slightly crooked picnic turns into something bigger than either of you expected.
Between chaotic sibling interruptions, sleepy couch cuddles with a purring bunny, a spontaneous night of dancing, and quiet comfort on the days your own mind feels heavy, love grows in the in-between moments.
Pairing: Myth Osmin x Reader
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life and Hurt / Comfort
Trope: Chaotic Family, Soft Boy x Gentle Lover, Friends-to-Lovers Energy, Domestic Intimacy, Emotional Reassurance, Touch as Comfort and Love in Small Moments
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That was the first sign this picnic was never going to go as planned.
Osmin had tried so hard. He really had. You could tell by the way his ears were slightly tilted back in concentration as he smoothed the fabric over the grass for the third time, tongue poking just barely out in focus.
“I think it looks nice,” you said, smiling.
He glanced at you, then at the blanket, then back at you. “…It’s lopsided.”
“That gives it personality.”
He huffed softly through his nose, but his tail gave a tiny wag. Victory.
The basket sat between you, packed with little pastries and fruit he’d definitely stayed up too late preparing. You were mid-laugh about something dumb when—
You watched the color drain from his face.
Through the park came a stampede of familiar chaos: siblings. Multiple. Loud. Fast. One tripped. One yelled. One was already holding a juice box that definitely wasn’t theirs.
“We saw you from the hill!”
“ARE THOSE STRAWBERRIES?”
“Dad said don’t bother you but we thought that was more of a suggestion—”
Osmin covered his face with both hands. “I left the house for four hours.”
One of them had already plopped directly onto the blanket. Another was interrogating the basket. A third was staring at you like you were a zoo exhibit.
“…Yes?” you said, trying not to laugh.
Osmin peeked through his fingers, mortified. “I am so, so sorry.”
But you were already smiling, warmth blooming in your chest as one of the younger ones offered you a squished cookie like a sacred gift.
“It’s okay,” you said softly. “They’re kinda cute.”
He blinked. “They’re eating the napkins.”
His ears drooped with relief, and he scooted closer to your side, shoulder bumping yours. “You’re… unreal, you know that?”
Behind you, a sibling yelled, “OSMIN THEY LIKE YOUUUU—”
Osmin buried his face in your shoulder while you laughed into his fur.
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You didn’t realize how tired you were until you sat down.
Osmin noticed immediately.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured, settling beside you on the couch. His voice was low, warm, a little scratchy in that comforting way.
“Long day,” you admitted.
He didn’t ask more. Just opened his arms.
That was all the invitation you needed.
You folded into him, cheek pressing into the soft fur of his chest, and he wrapped around you like he was built for it — one arm around your back, the other coming up to cradle the back of your head. His ears tipped forward, brushing your hair.
That soft, steady vibration under your ear.
“…You’re doing the thing.”
He went a little shy. “I don’t mean to. It just— happens.”
Your hand slid under his shirt slightly, feeling the rumble in his chest. “I like it.”
His tail thumped once against the couch.
He adjusted you closer, nose nuzzling gently into the top of your head. “You don’t have to carry everything alone, okay?”
You hummed, half-asleep already.
And he didn’t stop holding you — not when you went quiet, not when your breathing evened out, not even when his arm fell asleep.
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3° Scenario: His Day Off → Club Night
Day off felt weird when you were used to noise, responsibility, siblings arguing about nothing. The quiet in his apartment made his ears twitch.
Music thumped through the little club downtown, lights warm and low. He stood awkwardly at first, hands in his jacket pockets, foot tapping to the beat.
You were already dancing — not flashy, just feeling the music, smiling like the world didn’t weigh a ton.
You noticed him watching.
Instead of looking away, you held out a hand.
He blinked. Looked behind him. Pointed at himself.
He could dance. Not polished, but natural — loose shoulders, quick feet, ears bouncing with the rhythm. You laughed when he spun you a little too fast. He grinned when you nearly stepped on his foot.
Between songs, breathless, you shouted, “You look happier out here!”
He rubbed the back of his neck, flushed. “I don’t usually… do this.”
Your fingers were still loosely hooked with his.
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4° Scenario: You Experiencing Dysphoria (Ambiguous)
You’d gone quiet hours ago.
Osmin noticed the difference between “tired quiet” and this quiet.
He found you sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders curled inward like you were trying to take up less space.
He didn’t start with questions.
He just sat beside you, close enough that your knees bumped.
“…Bad brain day?” he asked gently.
You nodded, throat tight.
He looked at his hands for a moment, then said, “My sibling gets days like that too.”
“They always think they have to explain themselves. Like their feelings need a presentation.” He huffed softly. “They don’t.”
His shoulder leaned into yours.
“You don’t have to make sense to be real,” he continued. “You don’t have to fit perfectly into anything to deserve to exist comfortably in your own skin.”
His hand found yours. Warm. Steady.
“I see you,” he said quietly. “Not the parts you’re fighting. Just you.”
Your head tipped onto his shoulder.
He stayed there a long time.
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5° Scenario: Your First Kiss (Post-Picnic)
The siblings had finally been rounded up.
Not by Osmin — he had given up — but by one very tired older sibling who showed up, apologized to you profusely, and herded the gremlins away like an exhausted sheepdog.
The park was quiet again.
There were crumbs everywhere. One juice box had exploded. The blanket was somehow worse.
Osmin stood there, hands on his hips, staring at the disaster. “…I had a vision,” he muttered.
You snorted. “It was a good picnic.”
“It was a hostage situation with strawberries.”
You laughed, and that sound — warm, unbothered, still happy — made him look at you instead of the mess.
You were brushing grass off your sleeves, smiling like none of it mattered.
“…You’re not upset,” he said softly.
“They’re part of your life.” You shrugged. “I liked seeing that.”
Something in his expression shifted — softer, almost vulnerable. His ears lowered slightly, not in embarrassment this time, but something gentler.
“You’re… different,” he said.
“Good different or weird different?”
“…The kind that makes me want to try things I usually don’t.”
Your stomach flipped. “Like what?”
Osmin, who usually deflected with dry jokes, just stood there, thumb rubbing nervously against his palm.
“…Like this,” he said quietly.
Slow enough that you could stop him. Close enough that you could feel warmth radiating from him, smell that faint mix of smoke and clean laundry he always carried.
His hand came up, hovering near your cheek like he was asking without words.
That was all the permission he needed.
He kissed you softly — careful, warm, a little unsure at first. His other hand found your waist like he needed to ground himself. His nose bumped yours slightly because of course it did, and you both let out a tiny laugh into the kiss.
His ears tipped forward, brushing your temple.
When he pulled back, he looked stunned. Like the world had just changed genres.
He did not realize it was wagging.
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6° Scenario: His Siblings Teasing Him
You learned something important two days later:
The siblings never forget anything.
You were at Oswald’s house this time. Brave. Bold. Perhaps foolish.
You were sitting beside Osmin on the couch, knees touching, when one of the younger ones walked by, stopped, stared, then shouted:
“THAT’S THE KISSING PERSON.”
“WE SAW YOU IN THE PARK,” another added helpfully.
“You lean in like this—” A sibling dramatically reenacted his careful, gentle approach.
“I DO NOT—” Osmin started.
“The ‘I’m about to be romantic but also nervous’ face!”
You were shaking trying not to laugh.
Osmin covered his face. “I am never showing affection again.”
One sibling leaned toward you conspiratorially. “He practiced in the mirror once.”
“Dad walked in and he screamed.”
You lost it, laughing into Osmin’s shoulder. He groaned but automatically wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer despite the humiliation.
A smaller sibling tugged on your sleeve. “Are you gonna stay?”
You blinked. “If that’s okay?”
They nodded seriously. “Good. He needs someone who doesn’t yell at him about the bathroom schedule.”
Osmin sighed. “I live in a war zone.”
You tilted your head up at him, smiling. “My bunny though.”
The siblings went silent.
He turned bright red under his fur. “I am leaving. I’m moving. I’m becoming a monk.”
But he didn’t let go of your hand.
Author's note: Some of my friends, but mostly one of my besties Alps wanted a fic of Osmin, so, here it is.
I hope you guys enjoyed it <3
