The Fog ⇢ Dead by Daylight Oneshots

𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐

✩ Bubba "Junior" Sawyer "The Cannibal" ✘ Reader ✩

❝Cooking is love made visible.❞

EDITED ON 4/29/22

A headache pounded against your skull as you stepped onto the porch of your ranch house. The sickly yellow light that illuminated your way to the door worsened things. You had a terrible day at your dull nine to five that left you feeling drained. But when you twisted the doorknob and entered your home, you found a smell that instantly made your mouth water. The action made you forget about any pain or worry you felt just moments before. You kicked away your worn shoes before going into the kitchen. Bubba was at the stove, working expertly with all your utensils. Your eyes lingered on his movement; a warmth bloomed in your chest. Your hand brought itself up to your mouth, hiding a fake cough. Bubba jumped, turning around quickly, eyes wide as he looked between you and the hot food.

Various grunts escaped from his mouth as he tried to explain why and what he was doing in your kitchen. But before he could elucidate anymore, you silenced him by pressing against his body and rubbing his back as you held him. He scratched his head, contemplating his following approach before reaching around your waist and reciprocating the hug before returning to what he was initially doing.

In the meantime, you went back to your room, trying your best to busy yourself for when the food would be ready. After half an hour passed, you heard Bubba call for you, making you excitedly walk back into the kitchen as you made your way around the corner and gasped in surprise at the sight. Bubba had set your dining table, and food was steaming in bowls and plates. Bubba stood behind a seat, pulling it away from the table and offering it. You sat down and grabbed a fork, waiting until he had done the same before taking a bite of what was presented. Your taste buds went into bliss as you let out a satisfied moan. You could hear Bubba's faint chuckling making you glance up to glare at him.

Youstood up, grabbed your plate, and offered to clean it up when you werefinished. Bubba refused and held all the dirtied dishes. You let out a defeatedsigh and helped wash the dishware. As you scrubbed one of the plates, he gaveyou a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. You smiled, knowing this was his way ofgiving thanks. Perhaps today had been better than it was hours before.