#he reheats the soup a little later...

[stevesbipanic]

@steddielovemonth Day 1: Love is letting someone take care of you @starryeyedjanai

Steve was excited, it was Valentine's Day, his first Valentine's Day with Eddie. They'd been dating for a few months and Steve had been planning the day all week. He had plans to take them to their favourite diner a couple towns over where they'd gone on their first date, stargazing and coming back to Steve's little apartment downtown for some sweet loving.

He'd been so excited, until he woke up feeling a bit dizzy. But he didn't want the day ruined so got ready quickly for his shift with Robin. The dull pounding in his head only got worse with every rude customer but knowing in a few hours he'd be with Eddie kept him going.

Finally, his shift was over and after dropping Robin off he sped home to get ready. He had gotten dressed quickly and decided he could just rest his eyes for a few minutes to force the oncoming migraine away.

"Stevie? Sweetheart, you here?"

Steve opened his eyes groggily, his head was pounding and outside was now much darker than it had been only moments ago.

"Fuck, I fell asleep." He murmured but it came out more as a whine. The bedroom door creaked open and Steve squinted at the harsh light.

"Oh baby, what's wrong?" Eddie said softly closing the door giving Steve some relief.

"Head." Steve replied pitifully. Eddie was dressed in a black button down and his jeans didn't even have holes in them, their plans coming back to Steve.

"We were supposed to be going out tonight," he pouted as Eddie thread his fingers through his sweaty hair soothingly.

"Mmm yeah but there's something more important I've got to do."

Steve felt a pang in his chest, had Eddie just come over to cancel their date.

"First, I've got to reheat some of Mrs Henderson's chicken soup and get my baby an ice pack, then I think we can finish the last few chapters of the Hobbit what do you think?"

"But it's Valentine's Day."

"Yeah and I can't think of anything more romantic than making sure you're nice and cozy, sunshine."

Later, when his head was clear, he'd insist on giving Eddie a makeup date, but for now, cuddled into Eddie's side, he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yandere!shasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yandere!slasher!Horangi) chapter 6

You start to break down, finally accepting Konig's soft advances.

WARNINGS: Blood, dub-con bordering on non-con, general slasher-y, mild knife stabbing

Masterlist with all chapters This on AO3

This basement is filled with dead people. Or, so you thought at first glance. 

At the second glance, you notice a broken bicycle, a bunch of furniture pieces, and something that you could only describe as a particularly horrible-looking attempt at wood carving. Or, maybe, a hanging post. You were in the killer’s layer, after all. 

You were there for 10, maybe 15 minutes, and you already know that you are not making it out sane. Your whole body is trembling, your head is throbbing, you are dizzy after an orgasm, and Max is still lying here, his body is warm and soft. Blood stopped dripping from his stomach, but it didn’t make him any less dead. Coughing and almost throwing up from disgust, you spit out every last bit of cum that you managed to get out of your sore throat. You needed something – water, normal food, a good few hours of sleep because you’ve been running on sheer adrenaline for the past 12 hours and it started to take a toll on your…everything. 

Just a few hours ago, you were a bored college girl on her forest trip with a bunch of weirdo friends. Your biggest problem was the utter boredom of this fucking woods, not the murderous maniacs on your tail. Now…

— Open wide, Maus. Let me feed you, ja? 

Now you were spoonfed reheated chicken soup by König. Colonel in the PMC. The guy who dropped his mask to make you even more scared because you see all the burn marks and scars on his face, and just know that you won’t ever be able to resist someone as strong as him. 

Guy who calls you “good girl” and pets your head and tries to engage you in this weird as fuck power dynamic that makes your cheeks warm and your mouth open, even though the saltiness of the soup makes you remember his cum and…fuck. Oh, god fucking damnit. 

He is smiling like a maniac, making sure that with each spoon of your soup, you also eat something…you don’t even want to acknowledge it, your stomach is too empty, and your mouth was already tarnished by him, so what’s the problem with a few more drops of his semen, carefully added to the mixture so you won’t be able to miss it? You cringe in disgust as he smiles and pushes even more in your throat, almost making you gag from the spoon deep past your teeth. At least you know that the chicken bits here are actual chicken. 

— Let…let me go. Please.

You finish the bowl of soup after a few torturous minutes. The salty taste in your mouth leaves you cringing, and König smiles, wiping your face with a napkin. You feel helpless – with your arms newly bound, there is nothing much you can do when he presses a bottle of coke to your mouth, making you wash away the incredible saltiness with even more incredible sweetness. You want to gag, but he closes your mouth swiftly after. 

He smiles. 

— We’ll walk you later. Now is not the time for girls to be out. 

— I’m not a…

He scoops you in his hands, your body swinging in the air like a doll. It’s horrible, just how strong he is – makes you tremble in his hold, like a useless little victim you are. God, this even sounds embarrassing – yet you can hear the smile in his voice as he drags you along with him. Forcing you to look at Max’s dead body, the smell isn’t filling the room just yet. You try your best to consider yourself lucky. 

— You’re cranky, Maus. Need to get you out of here before he starts to smell, right? Brainy ones usually rot extremely fast. 

He laughs at his own joke as he pushes you in his arms further. Your head pounds with every one of his rough, deep phrases, his hands are going to roughly manhandle you in place. You whine, too weak to resist but not too weak to stop crying. God, this is pathetic. And scary, And not like those movies about hot killers and half-naked girls. 

You’re not a final girl material because instead of fighting him and slamming your knee in his dick again, you get even further on his hands, hoping he would be able to hold you in place like you wanted it. 

— Not sure if I should call you a Kitten or a good girl. What do you prefer? 

He pushes his large, calloused hand to your face, smearing blood all over your cheeks once again. You cringe, your nose gets the fragrance of blood and decay from his skin – the weirdest fucking perfume that you hope to never smell again. Sobbing softly, you allow him to press his hands on your body, to roam around freely, like you were his fucking treat and not a real person with wants and desires. 

— Fuck you. 

— It’s Horangi’s job, girl. Not yours, ja? 

He laughs plentifully, getting you in his hands. You shiver under his touch, not wanting his fingers anywhere near your abused body – they got you off one time exactly, and you wish never to come from your captor’s toucher. You don’t even want to look at Max, too scared to ever see his lifeless, cold face – terrified of the deep path you feel towards him. Like nothing has happened, like he wasn’t one of your friends. You don’t feel anything besides being tired, and you can’t begin to unwrap all the complex feelings behind your assholish friend group deaths. 

Jenny and Chad are still out here, still could get help – but they were ignoring every one of your pleads, not wanting to ruin their nice vacation with your dumb panic. Deep down, you almost feel like screwing these fucking assholes and hoping that they would get impaled by a large freaking stick, preferably in the middle of very lame and satisfying sex. Preferably…

— König, I thought we agreed of not letting her out. 

— You’re going hunting, and I need company. 

— She could run, you know. You’re too soft on her. 

— I can break her ankle! She won’t run then.

König’s voice is so cheerful you actually feel nauseous. He is smiling and laughing, and they both hug before the shorter guy gets out – you can’t even begin to remember the outline of their house because, honestly, serial killers shouldn’t have houses this nice. Ruch wood, probably painted with blood, some hunting trophies, probably incrusted with human bones and remains of their victims, a lot of silly little knickknacks that are probably trophies from the previous groups of dumb college kids…

Shit, no matter how much you wanted to say that this place looks horrible and straight out of a horror movie, it still looks nice. You wonder if it could be scored for a low price, with all the disappearing in the woods around it. You wonder if they started to kill people to make the house cheaper and buy it for half a Euro and a firm handshake. 

König grabs you like a plush toy, squeezing you in his magnificent, strong chest, almost making you choke on his boobs as you just desperately try to breathe. He smells like masculinity, too much male perfume and blood – you tuck your face closer to his neck, trying to see if you could, perhaps, bite through his blood stream and vampire your way out of this place, but he only laughs, feeling your teeth on his skin as a form of foreplay. You didn’t want foreplay, you wanted to fucking kill him, maul him to death, do everything in your power to drop him on his back and perform acts that would be not only concerning to feminism but humanity as a whole. 

He drops you on the couch before you can sink your teeth into his shoulder, leaving perfect teeth marks on the pale skin of his body. You heard somewhere that human bites are actually incredibly dangerous and call make you ill – you also hoped that you could somehow get rabies from that one poor rodent lying dead on the ground, and so you would be able to transfer the disease to these two fuckers. 

You hoped that Karen would give them all the STDs that are possibly could be transmitted. 

You hoped that Max would annoy the shit out of them before he died. 

You hoped…but it’s useless now, isn’t it? You are sitting on the couch, your captor keeping a firm hand on your thigh, his erection still hard in his pants – you refuse to look at it, you’re better than this, but, oh god, you had no idea a dick could be this dick and don’t prod through pants. You feel like a house dog that was allowed to sit on the soft furniture for the first time in her life, and you hate it. With a groan and, perhaps, a bit of an angry yelp, you fall to the ground. 

König smiles immediately – and pushes your face between his legs, perhaps thinking that you just died to suck him off. You wince, both from disgust and fear. Your jaw is still sore, and you aren’t sure how you can still close it. 

— Such an eager girl, ja? I will give you what you want then. 

Come to think of it, while he is relaxed and his partner is out of the house, you could try to bite his dick off. It should give you a headstart to run and find a weapon to eliminate one of the problems. Then, again, it would require you to put his dick in your mouth again. 

Your jaw pleaded to just allow him to fuck your pussy instead. 

Your pussy pleaded to just give him your ass, to not risk being pregnant. 

Your ass…yeah, you’re not trying anal for the first time with a guy who can swing his dick like a baseball bat and kill some unhappy campers with it. 

With the swiftness of the wind, you get up, sitting on the couch in the most modest pose you can imagine. You threw away a couple of pillows in the process – nice pillows, soft pillows, pillows you couldn’t imagine in the house of not just two killers but two military dudes who don’t seem like the type to like everything soft and cute. Besides you, you guess – or they always get one of their victims as leverage or a fucked up pet until they are fully committed to just killing you and eating what is left of your remains. 

König only laughs, getting a hand over your shoulders and pressing you closer to him. You don’t want to, but you’re basically naked, save for your underwear and torn jeans, and he is warm. You don’t need a blanket when you have his hot flesh next to your skin – you suppress a smile, trying your best not to fall into their clutches. You’re tired, yes, but it’s not an excuse to be a whore! There are many more convenient moments to be a slut and this one is not it. They killed your friends!

Your asshole friends. 

— You have any movie preferences? 

He has to repeat his question a few times, you’re too lost in thought to actually listen. Only when he pinched your thigh, no doubt leaving a bruise, you kinda jumped in place, only barely containing a pathetic whimper. His fingers just started to gently squeeze and play with soft flesh, only making everything more warm and twisted and painful. 

— No slashers. 

He chuckles, pressing his hand deeper into your inner thigh. You try to close your legs, not wanting to invite his fingers in, but he just rests his fingertips on the border of torn jeans, gently brushing it over the sensitiveness of your skin. You gulp, suppressing any reaction. 

— No slashers. Gut. I, too, prefer the real thing. 

Shiver rund down your spine. God, you need to get out of here, not play house with a murderer! A handsome murderer who killed your asshole friends and who was also kinda nice(not killing you, that is) and even saved you from being too hurt and even allowed you on the couch and even…god, you’re a miserable shell of a woman and the greatest speedrunner of the Stockholm syndrome in the world. 

Your body sinks into the couch that smells like a mix between a frat house and a meat fridge. 

He turns on the TV, placing something dumb and loud. You don’t even want to look, but you’re bored, and you don’t want him to think you are letting him off the hook with your observant nature – you look at him, quietly as he intensely watches a…

A familiar melody fills the room. You actually need to wait a few seconds, blink, and then look at the screen again. God, is he fucking serious right n-

You are sitting in the house in the middle of a murder forest, with the dead body of your friend rotting in the basement of said house, you were forced to have sex with the killers of the said friends, and now you’re kidnapped in the said house…and the killer just turned on fucking Encanto for you. 

— It’s popular among girls your age, right? 

You want to say that, among normal college female population, porn would be far more suitable to watch. The guy looks older than you, for sure, mature, with a rugged face and scars and that perfect stubble and touches of silver in his ginger hair, and…shit, you’re dreaming of his rough handsomeness again. Quick, think about your dead friend. 

— I’m not 5. 

— You act like you’re 5. 

— Wh…what do you mean? 

— You left your friends to die, you don’t care that we can hurt you…

— I care that you can hurt me!

— You’re silly, Liebling. A normal person would try to run away three times already. 

— You said you’d break my ankles. 

— I will. Still, you look like you prefer this place more, ja? You can watch dumb shows and eat whatever you want and never worry about…whatever you were doing before. 

— I don’t! I…this is stupid. 

— You’re a bit dumb, Schatzen. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you. 

He smiles as he ruffles your hair again, his hand goes to gently cup your face and cover it with hungry, sloppy kisses. You can’t even focus on the cartoon on the screen because he is basically devouring your lips right now, forcing you to open your mouth and invite him in – you don’t want him to bite you, you are hurt enough without that kind of contribution. You feel dizzy, dehydrated, you are still exhausted, and you’d want nothing more but to close your eyes and allow him to do whatever he wants with your lifeless body. 

You want to roll to the side, hug the pillow, and watch Encanto on pair with some trash TV about housewives killing each other over a garden salad. You don’t want to think about your dead friends because they are dead, you are alive, and your lips are getting crushed as he forces the kiss to be more deep, as he brings his hand to gently squeeze your waist and brush over your back. 

You are flushed by the end of the kiss, König grins sluggishly as you are panting, shocked, excited and a bit overwhelmed. In the heat of the moment, you didn’t even think about biting his tongue off – which sounded a bit stupid right now, yes, he would probably just kill you for trying, but you could at least…you could at least close your lips and don’t allow him to kiss you like an excited puppy who just loves loves loves covering your face with his saliva. 

Like a dig with a boner, König presses wet lips all over your face and head – in your hair, on your temple, gently brushing over your forehead and cheeks, making sure that he traces his lips over every last bit of blood that he left on your skin. He grunts in the kiss, something more like a guttural moan, and you never knew that just the motion of simple, sloppy kisses can make a man so excited – you are scared and just a little bit curious. Just how much he wants to touch his victim. 

König gently places you down on the couch, forcing you to sit straight. He picks up one of the fallen decor pillows and throws it into your hands, allowing you to have something to fidget with. He almost looks guilty, anxious, that barbaric, rugged face is red with embarrassment and sadness as he can’t really do anything nice with you right now, can’t play with you like he wants to. God, König would give up a lot to just fuck you raw on this couch, to forget about your stupid friends and make you their nice little couple addition – but he promised, he knows he is, and you’re too sensitive and overwhelmed to take him like this now. 

König can bet that you’d be so tight he wouldn’t even get a finger in. Breaking you in should feel fucking amazing. 

— Can’t fuck you right now, Schatzi. Promised my tiger we would share you. 

He smiles guilty, boyish, that dumb smile brings heat to your cheeks again. You turn away from him, feeling his hands keeping you in place firmly – but otherwise, he allows you to just watch the movie, getting lost in the plot you saw a couple dozen times. 

You are watching the movie, and König is watching you. 

— You aren’t sad? 

— About what? You can sense a certain level of nervousness in his tone. You lick your lips, hugging the pillow closer to your face so he won’t be able to read your expressions. 

— That we can’t fuck right now. 

— I don’t want to have sex at all. 

— You came stronger than I did. 

— It’s a…ph…physical reaction. I didn’t want it. 

— You don’t sound convinced. 

He is drilling the dangerous thoughts in your head. The desire to just empty your brain and allow them to take the lead, the desire of your mind to simply shut down from all of the horrors you already saw. This is an apathetic stance – you don’t see a point in fighting after you see what they are capable of, and you certainly don’t see the point in ever trying again. Still, you somehow want them to stop, just so you can stop worrying about falling for their trap and stop being a good person who cares for her friends. 

You feel like almost falling asleep, dozing off on the couch – not because you feel safe or warm, but because your body is simply refusing to reach anymore, too exhausted to produce even the most basic self-reservation instincts. König forces your head on his lap, gently stroking your tear-stained face. 

When Horangi returns home with a bloody axe and Jenny, kicking and screaming in his hold, you are fully asleep on König’s lap. 

[galeorderbride]

Intimacy Prompt: #43!

43: falling asleep with their head in your lap

Thank you sm for the prompt request!!

I like the idea of post game Professor!Gale when he first starts teaching. Maybe full of self doubt over whether he’s a good teacher, feeling frustrated that his pupils aren’t understanding concepts right away (mostly blaming himself). And Tav just comforting him at their home. 

A shortie ft. Gale x tav (uses she/her pronouns but no physical descriptions). Fluffy cuteness, comfort and nothing more 😊 

Rating: T

Count: 1337 

…

Gale was always a man to pour over documents with immense detail, but tonight, he seemed to be studying the same page on repeat. Pen scratching against the paper to the point of tearing, the sound of him mumbling to himself. Gale usually took so much pleasure in hours of research, absorbed in the material, but not this time. He mumbled, perturbed by his own work as he’d scold himself under his breath. 

For the first few hours, Tav left him to his work, knowing he wouldn’t feel better until he completed the task. Until he missed dinner, even when she called for him. No matter how much work he had to do, he’d made a habit of joining Tav at the table. She watched the clock tick, waiting for his steps down the stairs as the plate of chicken and vegetable stew grew colder. She should’ve checked on him already, but ever the people pleaser, she didn’t wish to bother him while in focus. 

Finally, she got up from the table and took his bowl in hand, travelling up the narrow stairwell. If he didn’t come out to eat, she would go to him. 

The wooden door was closed tight, but unlocked. Tav knocked a few times before entering, saying, “Gale, my love, are you alright? Your soup is getting cold. I know my cooking isn’t quite as good as yours, but it can’t be that scary.” 

He replied through the door, voice muffled but obviously exhausted, “Sorry, Tav, would you mind putting it away for me and I can reheat it later? Forgive me, dear, I have more to do than I anticipated.” 

Unsatisfied with his response, Tav sighed and entered his study. His back faced her, seated at his desk by a large window, fresh snow tapping against the glass as the evening turned to night. Candlelight illuminated piles of parchment around him, dotted with ink smudges and overlapping line edits. A mug of green tea sat on the end, untouched and cold. At the centre of it all was Gale, her loving fiance, slumped over the cherrywood surface with his head in his hands. 

Tav approached him, standing behind his chair as she placed the bowl on the desk and brought her hands to his shoulders. Velveteen fabric softened against her touch, lowering herself down to kiss the crane of his neck. The tension in his muscles was palpable, yielding even to the lightest rub. His tired eyes met hers, nothing but tenderness in those dark, chestnut eyes in desperate need of nutrients. 

“Gale, what’s wrong? You look as though you’ve just discovered the darkest secret of Nessus,” Tav asked. 

“Perhaps I’d feel a little better if I did,” he said, voice husky from tiredness. “At least then I’d provide a bit of value somewhere.” 

Tav looked over at his work, deciphering the multiple revisions to see he wasn’t doing research, he was strategizing classroom discussion. Private tutoring sessions, patterns of abbreviations for illusory spells, even planned workshops focusing on specific incantations. All the ideas were scratched out, or little comments written on them like ‘stupid’, ‘no’ and ‘absolutely not’.

“Are you doing lesson plans?” She asked, unable to conceal the confusion in her voice. 

“Failing lesson plans,” he said. “My students aren’t responding well to my current teaching style. They aren’t understanding concepts, their spell performance is mediocre at best, and I can see their eyes glazing over when I give my lectures on the ethics of phantasmal casting.” 

Riveting stuff, truly. His fixations on magical concepts that could get him going for hours if one wasn’t careful. Part of why Tav fell so deeply in love with him, rare to find such passion for subjects. She remembered nights at camp, taking peace in listening to his current fascination at the time. The only solace to such a deadly adventure. But perhaps a bunch of young apprentices weren’t as rose-coloured. 

“Well, you’ve only just begun teaching, love. Maybe you just need to get to know your students a little more, see what they want to get out of the class before you write the next manual on workshopping,” Tav said. 

“Perhaps I’m just not as good a teacher as I thought,” he said, voice lowering into a sombre tone as he sighed, throwing the quill pen across the desk. 

Tav ran her hands from his shoulders up to the nape of his neck, beginning to play with his hair. She gave a cheeky grin,“Last time we talked about students, I recall you thinking it was all their fault for not understanding.” 

He chuckled, “I blame you. Showing me love and humility. Now all I can do is think I’m the problem.” 

“I’ll venture to feed your ego more,” she joked, “Come, let’s take a rest for a moment.” 

Hand-in-hand, Gale followed her to their shared bedroom. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of balsam and mint enlivening the room from a scented candle on the mantle. Snow fell harder now, forming into a windy current that would surely become a blizzard by bedtime. A perfect environment for calming comfort, as Tav helped Gale remove his shirt, leaving him in nothing but lounge pants. After Tav put her own nightgown on, they crawled into bed. 

Gale rested his head on Tav’s lap, tracing his fingertips across the bare skin of her legs. Meanwhile, her hands ran through his hair again, brushing through the fine strands of beautiful, brown hair speckled with streaks of grey. Tav nestled in the pleasant bliss of hearing his even breath, calming with every stroke across the side of his head. The beat of his heart against her skin, so gloriously alive. There was once a time when he was willing to let that human beat expire, and how far he’d come, now absorbed in her embrace, filled with endless love and compassion. Even if that meant there wasn’t much power. There was no need for it in a caring household like this. 

Little kisses tickled the top of her thighs, mixed with the graze of his beard sending her into a sleepy comfort. She could play with his hair all night if he asked, such a simple, delicate pastime that reminded her of just how much she adored him. 

“Hmm, if you keep doing that, I may just fall asleep, my love,” he said, voice already trailing. His words slowed every time he was fighting sleep, mind always on overdrive but his body couldn’t always keep up. 

“Rest on me, Gale. I don’t mind,” she said, in a gentle whisper. 

He adjusted his position, wrapping his arms around the leg he rested on as if her thigh was a teddy bear. Her other leg crossed over his bare back, their bodies tangled within each other. Tav hummed a light lullaby, her voice like medicine to Gale’s ears as all his stress washed away. All that remained was the sensation of smooth skin, her nurturing voice, and the peace of being enveloped in the embrace of his greatest, most cherished love. 

As she sang, his eyes grew heavy, muscles loosening to the magic of her compassionate hands. That irresistible weightlessness began to overtake him, every thought of self doubt beginning to fade to a tiny smile. The lure of her song was so strong, she might’ve been one of the harpies they encountered back at the Emerald Grove. Their life had changed so much since then. His personal songstress caressing him in their queen sized bed, downy sheets and feather pillows as their shelter rather than tents and rocky ground.  

“Tav…I love you,” he said, lulling slowly into a peaceful sleep. The tapping of snow against the window, the snap of flame, her voice, all sending him into a comforting slumber. 

“I love you Gale Dekarios,” she said, moving a final piece of hair behind his ears before he fell into a deep sleep, making her laugh as he let out a small, adorable snore.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Odd duck things? Just anything?

"Darling girl," Bruce hummed, "what on Earth-"

"Today was a bad day."

"Evidently," he hummed, stepping over the maelstrom of books and papers. Pens and highlighters. Electronics. It looked like a warzone.

And he supposed it was, after a fashion.

Now like any soldier after a long fight, you were tired. Bone weary. If he hadn't known better, he wouldn't have known where to look for you. Tucked as far back in the corner as you could get.

"Are you ready to come out?" he asked, nudging things out of the way so he could kneel down to avoid looming over you.

"No."

"Alright," he hummed, stroking hair out of your face tenderly. "I'm going to make some tea. Maybe order some soup? You come out when you're ready."

Bruce stood and made his way into your little kitchen- noting that it hadn't been the focus of the upset. Neither had any other room, evidently. Not that he wanted to wander too far into your space. You were upset. Something had disrupted your contentment in your home and you were desperately unhappy. Even if he was welcome, he didn't want to make it worse by blundering around.

So he did what he knew he could do. You needed to drink and you needed to eat. So he set water to boiling and rifled through your tea cupboard for a moment. Setting out some tasty options for you to choose from- no-fail choices. So that even if you chose blind it would be reasonably okay. And he opted to order a few kinds of soup. Soup would reheat. And you'd feel better with something warm in your stomach.

The kettle whistled and he shut it off, pouring hot water into your mushroom-shaped tea pot before getting down your matching saucers and cups.

Impractical but- you liked them.

He was just putting down the tray and some honey and lemon when he heard shuffling steps and the swish of a throw blanket dragging the ground.

"I didn't know what to do-"

"Shhh," he soothed, crossing the floor quickly, chafing your upper arms in his hands. "Sweetheart it's okay."

"It's not," you murmur.

"Hey," he tutted. "Darling girl, come sit with me? I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"So come have tea," he coaxed. "Then we'll eat."

"The mess and-"

"It'll be there later," he shrugged, smiling a little.

[purplesoulcollection]

Unnatural Love

Part 9 (2) Synopsis : Name has being transmigrated into the world of I'm Not That Kind Of Talent without ever reading the novel. She's not being reincarnated as a human but as a devil as well. Hi There! I want to let you know that this fanfiction story isn't solely my creation. I borrowed the concept from @quqiwo2. I haven't actually read the novel either, just some spoiler to the end.

I hope you'll excuse my spelling and grammar mistake, because English not my first language.

"Adele, just a heads up that I need to participate in the hunting competition next week." He surprised me with the news when I least expected it.

“Hunting? Sounds like fun! What's that for?”

Deon's reaction to my question wasn't a happy one; he seemed really stressed and overwhelmed by the news.

"The emperor hold a hunting competition to inform the world that the empire is not afraid to hold a contest in the middle of war." He spoke in the monotone way, looks like someone drop him to the grave and sucks his positivity.

"Oh, that sounds complicated. Are you okay with that?" I genuinely worried about him, ever since he brought this topic, he don't look too good for me.

He pressed his finger against his temple, looking quite pitiful with stress written all over his face. All I can do is offer him some comfort with a gentle stroke.

"It was tiring. The Emperor sent me a gift of clothes that I couldn't refuse to wearing!" He finally yelled, that’s likely the root of his stress.

"Is that too revealing for you?"

He shook his head and covered his face with his hand. "No, just the color..."

"Bad? "

"Too striking..."

Is that bold color on Deon really working for him? If it’s not a great match, maybe he should reconsider wearing it.

"Let me see, you give it a try later. If it's suitable for you, it might be the best for you!"

"Adele, don't you too... Remember already nagging at me too..."

"Who’s Remember?"

"My butler. The old man I talked to this morning, that's his name."

Remember is the head butler's name earlier?

Fix, I'm in a story made by earthlings. The English word doesn't really seem to fit as a character's name.

This definitely confirms that Deon is the main character of this world. No female character appeared at him makes this original story the mc is the male, not the female one.

"Adele, you tend to drift off into daydreams quite a bit, don’t you??"

"Oh, not quite! By the way, I’m feeling so famished, a nap makes me miss the food."

"As I thought, so I asked for lunch to be prepared."

And I was faced with luxurious food typical of nobles. A bowl of corn soup, some chicken in gravy, a dessert, and a piece of bread. It's just the right amount for one person.

"It's already cold, should i ask servant to reheat it?"

"You don't have to worry about that. I can still enjoy it even if it's not warm anymore." I quickly reject his idea, this is looks fine for me.

When I see the cutlery on the table, it really makes me wonder. I have no idea about the proper table etiquette, and it all seems so complicated. I glanced at Deon, giving him a look that said I was completely lost.

He who understood about my trouble after seeing me glanced at the cutlery said, "Just eat your way. I won't judge you."

So I used a spoon that was the right size for my needs and ate with gusto. Deon just looked at me eating hungrily.

"Have you eaten?" I asked Deon, with a mouth stuffed with food.

'If he hasn't eaten yet, perhaps I could share a little with him.'

"I’ve already had my meal, you were the one who overslept!."

'Has he now started to mock me, even though he always appears so weary himself in the devil world?'

"It can't be helped, I'm tired. Having no sleep at all really do the wonders."

"But you sleep too much, can you sleep tonight?"

I pressed my finger to my lips, contemplating whether I would get any sleep tonight or not, "No... I guess."

I can already imagine what I should do at night, maybe take a walk in the garden. because I won't have a fever like humans. The little perks in many disadvantage to became a devil.

"Want to go for a walk?" asked Deon, interrupting my thoughts.

“You want to go for a walk? I think you're tired already.” My voice soared with happiness. if Deon wants to join me, why not?

"If you can't sleep, it will affect my sleep cause I'm light sleeper."

"Okay. Let's go for a walk." I'm really excited to have my tour guide in this new world! I'm eager to learn about the human world during the kingdom era—what were the people like back then?

This could very well be my final moment of tranquility. I need to savor it to the fullest. Nothing can hold me back from my adventures.

"Done, madam. Please see the results, madam." The servants mentioned that they had finished making me look absolutely perfect.

I felt a mix of excitement and reluctance as I approached the mirror.

Ever since I became a servant of the devil, I hadn’t really looked at my reflection. My gray skin made me shy away from seeing myself, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise..

But I'm human now. Let's look at our human version.

I couldn't help but admire myself the moment I caught a glimpse in the mirror. I turned out to be a very beautiful human being...

My hair was still a purplish silver color but I finally saw the face of a human whose beauty I could appreciate as a human being.

I was eager to snap a quick photo before switching back to my devil mode. However, there’s no camera available here, so I buried my futile hopes

Finally, the waiter's choice of dress was a pastel purplish pink dress. But I also realized that this dress suits me. Makes me look pretty and slay.

"Thanks for dressing me."

"No need to thank Madam, this is our duty."

I then turned to look back, noticing the way the skirt of the dress danced around me. The swaying of my skirt only added charm to my natural beauty and make me more confident than before.

"Madam, Master has been waiting outside."

“He's outside? I'll be right out.”

I quickly put on the small earrings that the maid had provided. I chose round pearl earrings. Feeling that my appearance was perfect, I hurried to go out. Want to quickly show off my new appearance.

"Deon!"

I shouted as I walked quickly towards Deon. He, who was initially arranging his gloves, turned to me.

Wow, he looks amazing, even though he's all covered up and the only thing you can see are his striking red eyes. But the his mysteriousness and coolness really being topped up.

He fell silent while opening his eyes wide. Not even saying a word for me.

Was he surprised because I was strange, even though I was already become human?

“How's my look? Is it strange for you?”

He simply averted his gaze, avoiding a proper look at me.

I moved towards him with such intensity that he couldn't bring himself to meet my eyes fully. I did my utmost to present myself as beautifully as possible.

"You are... good." He says that with shy and tried to hide his face even if he already use the a cloth mask.

But I still don't understand the implied compliment that he can't expressed.

"What type of compliment is that, Deon? Tell me whether am I beautiful or ugly in your eyes...?"

I'm so eager to see him compliment me, you know? Women looks the best when her lover praise her!

But he didn't meet my expectation, "Let's go! "

He ran away from me before he could give me a compliment, and I have no idea where we're headed.

"Wait for me, Deon!" I try to catch his super fast walking, but it's not so easy with this dress.

"DEON!"

To Be Continued

[theemporium]

hey babe!!

if you don't mind could you do a sirius black x sick reader please?

thanks sm! xx

this is lowkey self-indulgent because i am hacking a lung over here but thank you for requesting!🖤

.

He had been worried when you didn’t wake him up.

A majority of the time you were up before him, teasing him for his yawning and bed hair that he wouldn’t bother to fix until he had some coffee and food in his stomach. You would be the one to drag him out of bed, telling him that he had to start the day and promising him that you could nap after lunch if he got up now. 

But Sirius had dragged himself out of bed at eleven this morning, honestly expecting you to already be up (considering you weren’t in bed next to him when he woke up) and tease him about how he could sleep through an apocalypse. However, he had walked into the kitchen and seen nothing but a bunch of tablets sprawled across the counter.

He frowned, taking a step to investigate when he heard a series of hacking coughs coming from the living room. He quickly made his way towards the sound, stopping at the bottom of the sofa when he saw you curled up in a bunch of blankets, used tissues and bottles of water surrounding you as you gave him a grim smile.

“Hi,” you whispered, sniffling enough for him to know your nose was blocked. 

“Baby,” he murmured softly as he took a step towards you but you quickly slipped your foot out of the blankets to kick his leg to stop him.

“No,” you whined and shook your head. “The whole reason I’m in here is so you don’t get sick too.” 

“You moved here last night?” he asked, his brows furrowed in concern. He could have sworn he had fallen asleep with you on chest and your legs wrapped around his thighs. 

You nodded. “Woke up feeling shit, didn’t wanna disturb you.” 

“Baby,” he said again, but this time it was a little more chastising. “You should have woke me up.” 

You sighed. “But—” 

“No buts, love, I’m your boyfriend,” Sirius said as he puffed his chest out a little, holding back his own grin when he saw your lips twitch with a smile. “It’s my job to take care of you.” 

“You’re gonna get sick,” you told him with a shake of your head. 

“No, I won’t,” he said confidently. “Have you eaten yet?” 

You shook your head.

“Right, then you pick something for us to watch and I’ll make you some soup,” he murmured as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“You mean reheat soup from a can?” you teased. 

“Obviously, darling, whatever gets me next to you sooner, the better,” he winked.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he was tucked behind you as you slowly ate the bowl of soup he had heated up for you. Some random romantic comedy was playing on the television but he didn’t pay it much attention as he focused on you, making sure you at least ate half of the soup before you put the bowl down. 

“Just gotta take these now, love,” he murmured as he pressed some pills into your palm and passed you water.

“Who knew you’d be such a demanding nurse,” you grumbled but did what he said. 

“Sorry for wanting you to get better,” he joked lightly as he took the glass of water and placed it on the table. “C’mon, I’m waiting for my payment.” 

You frowned in confusion. “Your payment?”

Sirius pouted his lips expectantly. 

“Nuh uh,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna get you sick.” 

“I don’t care,” he said and pouted his lips again. “Kiss me.”

“Sirius—” 

“Kiss me or I’ll die!” Sirius sighed dramatically.

“Don’t blame me if you get sick,” you murmured before you leaned in to just peck his lips. 

“Not enough,” Sirius grumbled as he leaned down to deepen the kiss. 

“Sirius!” 

“This is my payment, love!”

.

[fanfic-chan]

Tokyo Revengers Boys When You're Sick

Ft: Mikey, Draken, Takemitchy, Mitsuya, Baji, Hakkai, Chifuyu, Nahoya (Smiley), and Souya (Angry)

Creators Note: These were inspired by the fact that I am very much ill rn, and decided to write about these guys to cheer myself up! Ik it's not the typical theme of my writing, but I hope you guys will enjoy them regardless!^^

Tagging: @duckymcdoorknob @ticklish-n-stuff @nataliewritez

Mikey:

Honestly? He's not exactly the best option, but he's not the worst either.

For the most part, he's pretty chill for a caretaker, so for things like minor colds and stuff, he's actually the preferred choice for most of the gang members.

He's the type to sit and watch TV with you while you recover, and gives you ice cream or popsicles to soothe your throat. He also takes full advantage of the opportunity to make a blanket fort. Says it's to cheer you up, which is partly true.... But he also just really loves blanket forts.

He'll try to bribe you into taking medicine, but won't force you too, since he's also hesitant with taking the nasty cough syrups and pills that make you drowsy, so if it's not too bad, he might consider letting you off the hook.

Also, sorry to disappoint, but he can't cook worth a flip, so all of the chicken soup you get is gonna be from a can and cooked in the microwave. Half the time it's not even warmed up enough, but he tries his best nonetheless, and he'll keep reheating it as many times as it takes to get you to eat something.

Absolutely believes gatorade is a cure all and makes you drink a ridiculous amount of it while you're recovering. He thinks the yellow kind is a sin though and if you ask for it, he'll look at you with so much disdain in that moment that you'll wonder if he's plotting to murder you.

Overall, a great option if you're only suffering from something minor, but if you're really, really sick? Best to call someone a little more strict to put you on the right track to recovery!

Draken:

100% the mother hen of the group. I'm taking no criticism on this.

He doesn't exactly hover, but he is the type to check in on you periodically, and weaseling your way out of bed is going to be near impossible without a good excuse.

He won't take any bullcrap about medicine either, so unlike Mikey, you're not going to get much leeway with him, no matter how insignificant the illness.

If you ask him nicely, he might allow you to watch TV for a while if you're not too ill, but it comes at the cost of having to take a proper nap later.

If you have a fever though? Sorry about your luck. He might give you a book to entertain yourself but you're not getting out of that bed until your temperature is back to normal.

His style of care usually results in a lot of boredom for his reluctant patients, but on the flip side, they always recover remarkably quickly, so no one can really complain.

Takemitchy:

Takemitchy is definitely the type of guy to rush straight over with multiple bags worth of pharmacy supplies the second he hears someone is ill.

He's a bit of a nervous wreck about it, but he's actually not half bad at taking care of people when they're sick.

I feel like his adult side tends to present itself a lot more during times like this, especially with those that are really sick. It kind of baffles people how mature he sounds at these times.

He'll speak soothingly to them as he presses a cool cloth to their head, and always handles any of the tedious work involved with a smile.

His main goal is to make his patients as comfortable as he can, but he can also be surprisingly insistent when it comes to medicine and keeping them hydrated. Not Draken levels of strict, but he's not like Mikey either. He usually ends up resorting to some form of bribery.

He's a pretty good person to rely on during times like this... Except for the fact that he almost always ends up catching it too not long after... Oops.^^`

Hakkai:

He's admittedly a bit of a nervous wreck, probably worst than Takemitchy to be honest.

Given the type of upbringing he had, he's not very experienced with things like this, but he'll do his best nonetheless.

He's the type to go to the pharmacy and get at least 3-5 different types of the same medicine just to be sure he gets something you can take. The poor pharmacy workers usually have to help him pick out what he actually needs so he doesn't try to buy half the store.

Constantly calls and texts Mitsuya the entire time for advice. Eventually to the point he just comes over himself to help after he gets the fourth call wondering if he should bring you to the hospital because you sneezed a little too hard.

Once he gets the hang of things, he'd probably be pretty okay at it, but he definitely needs some practice.

He's very gentle and only wants the best for the person he's caring for, so even if he doesn't quite know what he's doing, he'll put his best foot forward regardless.

Not the best option when it comes to overall experience, but if you give him a chance, he'll do his best to help you all he can until you're better.

Mitsuya:

Andddd, the second mother hen of Toman enters the chat.

Absolutely knows what he's doing the entire time, and is probably the most knowledgeable out of all the Toman guys when it comes to this kind of stuff.

He's taken care of both his little sisters for years, so he has plenty of practice with all kinds of random colds and stomach bugs.

Has a whole arsenal of different natural remedies that he's acquired over the years to help speed up recovery and relieve symptoms.

He's pretty similar to Draken in a lot of ways when it comes to care, but he's also a little softer about it if that makes sense?

Has a bad habit of shifting into older brother mode with his patients, and will often slip up by saying his sisters' names when he's preoccupied and talking to them, running his fingers through their hair, putting on cartoons, tucking them in, humming, etc.

He often gets teased about this, but he doesn't really take it to heart and usually just laughs it off. No one really minds it anyway, and most see it as just one of his more endearing traits. Some even find it comforting, though they won't admit it.

He also doesn't get sick very easily, and rarely ends up catching anything himself, so telling him to stay away for fear of spreading it to him won't deter him much.

Maybe I'm being biased just a little, but he'd absolutely be my first choice. Mitsuya knows his stuff.

Chifuyu:

Has absolutely no idea what the heck he's doing.

He'll show up to your house with a ton of random supplies, though half of them don't even make any sense. Amongst all the saltines, soup cans, and cough syrup, there are a bunch of things that even he doesn't know why he brought them. He just packed/bought them out of panic and impulse.

"Chifuyu.... Why is there a 5lb bag of gummy bears in here?" "...You don't like gummy bears? 🥺"

That sort of thing.

Once he gets the hang of it, he's not that bad at it, but he's definitely very awkward and nervous about it.

He's somewhat hovery, but more in a distant sort of way, since he's afraid to make you feel worse. He'll kinda just watch you from the kitchen while you sleep on the couch, or he'll pop his head in your door 40 times per hour if you're in your room.

He reads the back of the medicine bottle at least seven times for fear of overdosing you.

Totally forgets to look at the front label because of it, and unintentionally knocks you out cold for seven hours with NyQuil.

He still hasn't stopped apologizing for that yet.

Baji:

Baji is.... Admittedly not the best person to call for this sort of thing.

Depending on who you are, he might even hang up when you call complaining about your cold, telling you to 'keep your germs to yourself' and to 'man up' lol.

On the off chance that he does decide to come help you out though, he'll do his best, but much like Chifuyu, he's very inexperienced at this kind of stuff

Baji is the type to ride out his illnesses the hard way, and he treats his patients no differently.

Soup? That's for wimps. Just eat a peanut butter sandwich or something.

Medicine? That's not how you build an immune system. You stomp that illness into the ground with nothing but blood, sweat, and tears.

In most cases, he'll end up having to call Draken to come bail him out cause he made the person he's taking care of cry.

His only good trait is that he's basically a walking space heater, so if you can trick or bribe him into sitting next to you, you get a heating pad that doesn't need any electricity or to be reheated.

Makes up for everything else tbh.

Souya and Nahoya:

Ultimate good cop, bad cop duo. Angry being the good cop in this situation, while Smiley is the bad cop. Ironic right?

Smiley is more the tough love type who makes you take your medicine, eat, stay hydrated, etc.

He won't admit it, but he honestly gets a bit of a kick out of watching their grossed out faces after taking medicine. It's half the reason he even agreed to this in the first place.

Angry, on the other hand, is the type that gets super empathetic about it. Super cuddly and sweet, and he's eager to do whatever it takes to help you get back on your feet.

His one problem is that he tends to get sick a lot easier than Smiley, so it usually ends with both of you being sick and being taken care of by the older twin for the last half.

Yeah. Mr. "Murder! Yay!" Is going to be you guys' nurse for the duration of your sickness. Good luck...

But at least you have someone to suffer and watch stupid shows with?...

[toomuchracket]

omg can we have you looking after flatmate matty when he’s sick?? maybe bringing him cold medicine and helping him shower and giving lots of extra cuddles🥺

so its like mid-morning you're like up and dotting around the flat and you're kind of concerned because matty still isn't up yet (this is before you're together btw). like you know he wakes up later the night after a show but this is pushing it. and you're hesitant to go into his room in case there's someone with him, but every time you've gone past it's either been him snoring or just total silence, so you figure he's alone. you knock and open the door slightly, and poke your head round to see matty wrapped in the duvet SHIVERING despite the heating being on. you go over and he's like "babe i really really don't feel well" and his voice is all scratchy, and he's SWEATING. and you feel his forehead and he's burning up so you get him up and like manoeuvre him into the bathroom (he's so weak he can't stand by himself) to the shower to try and shift his fever. and even ill matty's still joking like "you know, i didn't picture this being the scenario in which we first showered together, but ok" and you pointedly ignore the fact he's just admitted to thinking about you and him in the shower together and just try and get him undressed in the most dignified way you can. and you're like "if you can face away from me i can hold you up without you having to compromise your modesty. i'll have to see your bare arse but that's nothing new" and matty's like "annoying that you've seen my bum and i haven't seen yours" and you're like "stop thinking about me naked and focus on feeling better" and he's like "those two things correlate it's fine" and you're like "jesus christ" but internally you're all !!!!!!! and the heat of the shower seems to soften the congestion in his chest so he's coughing this like awful awful cough and all you can really do is rub his back while holding him upright and doing your best not to look at him naked (but because he's so ill your overwhelming feeling is concern, not lust, so you're fine). anyway, the shower seems to revitalise him a little bit, so you leave matty to dry off and get dressed in his room and run to make him a cup of tea and get some soluble paracetamol. he has a bit of a tantrum about the latter, and won't force himself to drink it unless you sit and cuddle him afterwards to make him feel better (which melts your heart), so you end up sitting on matty's bed with his head in your lap, softly blow-drying his hair (so his cold doesn't get worse) while you watch my neighbor totoro (aka the best film of all time if u wanna feel better). when matty starts to fall asleep, you manoeuvre him onto the pillows and let him nap, while you go to the kitchen and start to reheat a batch of chicken noodle soup you'd made and frozen especially for situations like these. forty minutes later, though, you hear matty literally crying out your name and run back in a panic. and you're like "what's wrong sweetheart?" and he's actually crying a little bit holding your hand like "woke up and you weren't next to me" and you have to hold onto the bedframe to stop yourself keeling over at how heart-aching that statement is before you say "i'm sorry, babe, i was just getting you some soup. give me 2 minutes and i'll bring it to you". and matty pouts and says "promise you'll only be gone for 2 minutes?" and you're like "yes, i promise" and he reluctantly lets you go and get it. and then when you come back he has the soup then he's like "can you just please stay and cuddle me for the rest of the day?" and you're like "ok. but if i get ill, healy..." and matty's like "if you get ill, i'll take care of you. i'll always take care of you" and then he falls asleep on you again, leaving you sitting there heart fluttering lol <3

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 28: Leannan is Miserable

1401 words

CW: past institutionalized slavery, religious themes, negative self-talk

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Leannan spent the next two days wallowing in bed. Enjolras or Jeanette would come by occasionally to coax him into eating something, but otherwise he was left alone.

No punishment came. No balancing of the scales.

Everything was too much. The lies were too much. The books were too much. The fact that his sister didn’t believe in God was too much. The humiliation was too much. His new family was too much.

So he tried not to think about any of it.

Instead, he thought about Phineas.

Sure, if Leannan was human, then the way Phineas had treated him was wrong – but Phineas didn’t know that! As far as Phineas knew, they had been treating Leannan properly. Fairly. The worst thing they’d ever done to Leannan was something Leannan has asked for, no, begged for.

They listened to Leannan. Sometimes. And they were… funny, and protective, and possessive in a way that made Leannan a little giddy, and they’d saved Leannan so many times.

Leannan missed Phineas. He missed their presence, their smile, their authority, their ownership. He even missed being intimate with them. The realization brought tears to his eyes.

He’d never felt like this about a master before. Not even the good ones.

He fantasized about what it would be like to see Phineas again. He’d tell them about how he was actually a human, and Phineas would completely understand. But maybe Phineas would still like to be his master anyway, just to keep things in order.

Leannan had no idea what to do without a master.

Enjolras had made it abundantly clear, and Leannan had finally accepted it: she was not his master, and never would be. He was masterless, currently, and felt horribly adrift because of it. Leannan often had his own goals and interests, certainly, but those usually aligned with the goals and interests of his current master, or the aim of being sold to a new, better master.

He didn’t have high hopes for learning to live without one. The rest of his family had had twelve years to adjust. Meanwhile, Leannan had lived twelve years constantly relying on another person.

Can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

He was a misfit here. He didn’t know how to play with the children, or handle the chickens, or milk the goats. He didn’t know how to… be the way the rest of them were.

Happy, maybe. They seemed happy.

Until they were around Leannan, anyway.

He combed over previous conversations and encounters, convincing himself that he had been constantly making people uncomfortable, disgusted, sad. How miserable it must be for them, to have finally gotten him home only to realize he was a fucked out whore who didn’t know how to live like them, how to be normal like them, how to be human like them.

All he’d done since arriving was ruin things.

Leannan spiraled.

~~~

“Okay, that’s enough!” Enjolras declared. She shook Leannan’s shoulder gently. “I’m on duty to help with lunch, and you’re coming with me.”

Leannan groaned and curled up tighter around his pillow.

“Do I have to?” he grumbled.

“You know what? Yeah, I think you do.”

Aisling was already getting things started in the restaurant kitchen when they arrived. She did a double take when she saw Leannan, but she smiled.

“Hey, good to see you!”

Leannan nodded, not quite looking at her. Enjolras nudged him forward.

“What can he do?”

“We’re reheating soup from last night, and making salad and a peach cobbler. The cobbler recipe’s on the table, or…” she hesitated, remembering that Leannan couldn’t read, “He can chop veggies for the salad.”

Enjolras nodded and went to work, setting up a station with a knife, a cutting board, and a bowl of washed cucumbers. She parked Leannan in front of it.

“Have at it!” she said brightly, and bent over the cookbook to figure out what she needed for the cobbler – but when she glanced up a minute later, Leannan hadn’t moved.

“Leannan?”

“I don’t know how,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushing red. He looked like he might cry.

“That’s okay!” Enjolras assured him, “Let me show you.” She took his place in front of the cutting board. “Hold the knife like this, okay? And then you hold the thing you’re cutting like this, with your fingers curled under so that you don’t chop them off, yeah? And then you want to slice it… about that thick. Okay, you try.” She put down the knife and stepped back.

Leannan slowly picked up the knife, rested his hand on the cucumber, and sank the knife into it with hesitant, jerky motions. The slice that fell away was thick and lopsided. Leannan stared at it blankly.

“Okay, um… Hey, Aisling!” Enjolras called to the other woman, “Do you want to switch with Leannan? Let him stir the soup while you chop?”

“Oh, sure…” Aisling started to say, but Leannan burst into tears, dropping the knife onto the counter and pressing his hands over his face.

Enjolras deflated a little. She had been hoping that some honest work would pull Leannan out of his funk, and it was already backfiring.

“Leannan,” she spoke softly, “Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”

“I don’t – I can’t, It’s too hot in here, I can’t think!” Leannan wailed.

“Okay, that’s okay,” Enjolras took his shoulders and began to gently guide him away, “Let’s get out of here for a minute.”

She exchanged a somber nod with Aisling as she steered Leannan out of the kitchen. They’d talked, the day after Leannan had burned the books – Enjolras and all the other adults on the island. Enjolras had been a bit more candid. Jeanette had filled in some blanks as well. What they had concluded was Leannan’s experience had been far worse than any of them could imagine, and worse than they might ever even know, and his mental state reflected that. They couldn’t punish him, nor could they force him to live like they did. They needed to give him space, encouragement, and love, and to understand that he wouldn’t always react the way they expected. It would take him a while to let go of certain things.

Enjolras sat Leannan down at one of the dining tables, and pulled a chair for herself up next to him. The dining room was completely empty, allowing them some privacy.

“What just happened?” she asked him, sitting down.

“I don’t know how to – how to do anything,” Leannan lamented between hiccuping sobs, “I’m not made for this, I don’t belong here.”

“Leannan, you’ve only been here for, what, four days? It’s going to take time for you to adjust, but you will, I promise.”

Leannan lifted his tear-streaked face from his hands, his cheeks red and snot running.

“But all I do is mess things up! All I do is make people miserable,” he choked out.

“That’s not true,” Enjolras said, putting an arm around his shoulders and squeezing him, “You don’t make me miserable.”

Leannan pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest.

“I’m the oldest,” he sniffled, “For years I thought I was the youngest, and then that I was the only one, but now I’m the oldest, and I don’t know how to be like them at all! I don’t know how to be part of… a family. Or maybe I used to, and I forgot.”

“Leannan, it took everyone a long time to learn how to live outside Iowa City,” Enjolras said, “You’re feeling exactly what Aisling felt, what Shannon felt, Clary, all of them – nobody knew how to live free when they were first rescued. They had to learn, and they had to do a lot of it on their own, but you don’t! You have everyone here to help you, and everyone wants to help you. You just have to let them.”

“Do you believe in God, Enjolras?” Leannan asked unexpectedly. Enjolras took a moment to shift gears, but she answered.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” she said, “Not the God you were raised with, though, something a little different. A little kinder.”

“Why doesn’t Shannon?” Leannan whispered.

“That’s not a question I can answer for her,” Enjolras said, “How about…”

“Enjolras!” Clary popped up at the top of the stairs, “Radio for you!”

Enjolras frowned slightly.

“Now’s not the best time.”

Clary shook their head.

“It’s Phineas.”

~~~

Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

[eva-knits12]

Chris Evans characters making the Thanksgiving meal

Steve Rogers:

Steve watches the Lion and the Packers game with Bucky and Sam.

You're left alone, so you cook the meal while drinking a glass of wine (or two), and listening to some podcasts.

You cook the turkey, the mashed potatoes, the stuffing and the green bean casserole.

Sam brings his famous candied yams and Bucky brings cranberry relish.

The meal is good, but you cooked it.

Colin Shea:

Colin cooks the meal.

Eva is busy soothing her cramps.

Her monthlies made their appearance, one day ahead of time.

GRRR.

Eva sleeps on the couch, and Colin carries her to bed.

Colin listens to music on his tablet while cooking the meal.

Colin wakes Eva up.

Dessert is a chocolate pumpkin cake.

Movies are watched, but Eva and Colin fall asleep twenty minutes into the movie.

Ransom Drysdale:

Katherine is in the hospital being treated for bacterial pneumonia, so Harlan, Ransom and you spend the rest of the day at your brother's.

Your brother cooks the meal.

You go to visit Katherine in the hospital after dinner.

A few days later, you and Ransom take Katherine home.

Your brother comes by later that day to make a Thanksgiving meal for you, Ransom, and the twins.

The twins eat a little bit of everything.

They love the green bean casserole and the cranberry sauce.

Katherine has to take her antibiotic, which is icky.

She eats some vanilla ice cream for dessert.

The twins, you, and Ransom go to sleep after your brother leaves.

The next day. Harlan goes to school, but you make Katherine a little leftovers for her lunch.

You, Ransom and the twins have a nice holiday, even though it wound up with a kid in the hospital.

Ransom wouldn't trade this for the world.

Andy Barber:

Andy cooks the entire meal from scratch.

He even made the dessert from scratch, including a pumpkin pie for you that's diabetic friendly.

Andy delivers you water and snacks to help keep your sugar up.

While watching movies in your PJ's with Joy, you breast feed Penelope.

Andy smiles at the wholesome site.

Andy plays an important role in your type I diabetes.

He even checks your Dexcom when your sleeping to make sure that your sugar is normal, and wakes you when it's dangerously low.

He brings you juice and a granola bar when it is.

Andy loves being a husband to you and a dad to the girls.

Jake Jensen:

Jake plays video games while you cook the meal.

Jake's niece, sister, and your brother, sister-in-law and your nephew all arrive.

The meal is ready, you made everything, including three kinds of pie.

You have vanilla ice cream, and the neapolitan kind.

After, you and Jake have plans to binge watch Star Wars and Harry Potter.

You have plenty of food leftover, so it's all good.

You also have plenty of frozen stuff.

You went grocery shopping on Monday, so you're all set until next Monday.

The meal is amazing.

Frank Adler:

Mary has a cold, so Thanksgiving will be lowkey.

You and Frank went to high school together, and this is your first Thanksgiving in your hometown since you moved back home.

You come over, and cook the meal for Frank and Mary.

You also make Mary your famous chicken soup.

Frank sips beer and watches the Lions and the Packers, while you cook the meal in his kitchen.

Mary has some soup, but you leave a plate in the fridge with reheating instructions in case she feels like eating.

You also make pumpkin pie for dessert.

It's an amazing Thanksgiving, and it was low key.

Johnny Storm:

Your aunt cooks the meal.

Johnny is kidnapped by your mom and your aunts who have to know every single detail of his proposal at Disney.

The meal is enjoyed.

Johnny and you go back to NYC, smiling more than ever.

You worked of the dinner multiple times in the hotel.

And in the shower, and in your childhood bedroom.

Damn, Johnny can make you come in ways that still blow your mind.

He makes you come again when you return to your NYC apartment.

You and Johnny are deeply in love, and he was on his best behavior.

Next year, you both are cooking the meal.

[danketsuround]

sunday six!

(monday six for me) (as always)

tagging @fire-tempers-steel @passthroughtime and @c-cw-f-saeko (sorry if you don't have anything to share lol)(but i must participate) & whoever else wants to do this (lately it's been really forcing me to write a lot)

lost judgement spoilers below:

another bit of a post-LJ au, where kuwana takes care of mitsuru while reiko is in prison. writing to make mitsuru's disabilities more accurate from canon and to mend my broken heart.... :cry:

The beep at nearly-eight is the rice cooker. Kuwana's bones creek, aging him as he pulls himself up from a squat. He paddles two servings of rice into his bowl and pairs it with natto, reheated soup, and a cold karage cup he bought from Seven. The vegetables steam a little longer before he puts a tiny serving in front Mitsuru and hurriedly finishes off the rest.

Mitsuru mashes a piece of carrot with his rubber-banded chopsticks. He ate picky like his mother, and scowled like her, too. Their shared nose and thin eyes crinkled harshly, disgusted by the steamed purée Mitsuru unaffectionally—and ironically—called baby food. It was swallowing practice and a nutritional trick, suggested in a letter from Reiko—a response to his medical documents:

...It's not very difficult to do. Steam them for thirty minutes. If you lose track of time and think you've cooked it for too long, add another ten minutes. I did that when he was little...It should be the consistency of chewed gum or silt...No soy sauce...He doesn't like broccoli. No broccoli. Potatoes are the best for gaining weight, cut them into sixths. Give him small portions or he won't eat it. Smaller than you think...If you can encourage him to practice swallowing, you can encourage him to eat more. He's malnourished now. You know that...Don't push him. I think he'd cry. It would be like trying to make an infant solve a jigsaw puzzle....

Don't push him.

No broccoli.

Thank you.

Kuwana picks a piece of broccoli off of Mitsuru's plate and eats it. It tastes like hot ice cubes. Mitsuru looks offended and unhungry, leaning back in his wheelchair with his shirt over his outie.

"Let's go to the beach later," Kuwana suggests, swallowing the rest of his breakfast whole. "After you finish."

Mitsuru nods while tapping the plastic tubing with his nail. He looks up—almost done. "Tastes like," he exhales slowly. "I wonder."

[authorjoydragon]

Trick or Treat: Post a snippet, headcanon or drawing that's Fluffy or Cracky and pass on to another friend (if you wish).

Oh! I’m not on tumblr much anymore so I’m a bit late, but here’s a kacchako snippet that’s been sitting in my docs

Soft Touches

Uraraka added the noodles and stirred them into the soup, it was almost finished. She glanced at the clock, Katsuki would be home any minute now.

She hummed as she cleaned up the kitchen, washing the dishes and occasionally stirring the soup or adding a little more seasoning.

Arms wrapped around her middle, and she lowered the spoon to pat his arm. Katsuki buried his nose in her neck, not saying a word. Uraraka reached up to stroke his hair. Poor guy was getting killed at work with long, hard days.

“Hello, love. The soup is ready if you want some.”

Katsuki grunted against her shoulder. She rolled her eyes; he had such a way with words.

Uraraka screeched as she was suddenly thrown over his shoulder. “Katsuki! What are you—”

He gripped her ass, making her gasp. So he was hungry for something else? He started making his way to the bedroom, but she pinched his side. “At least turn the stove off!”

He hesitated before listening to her, turning back around to flick it off and put the lid over the pot. Then he continued back to their room.

She giggled as he flung her down on the bed. His sharp eyes studied her for a moment before softening. “Uraraka.”

Katsuki gently laid on top of her, surprising her by laying his head on her chest and wrapping his arms around her lower back. He sighed and nuzzled against her. “Miss you.”

She threaded her fingers into his wild blond hair, scratching his scalp with her fingernails (being sure not to activate her quirk). One hand trailed down his back, scratching softly. “I miss you, too. Can we stay like this for a while?”

He nodded against her skin, giving her a light kiss.

Not soon after she heard his light snores. She smiled and closed her eyes too.

The soup could always be reheated later.

[spooniechef]

Party Pork Chops (1 spoon)

This is a very old recipe, and its origins are a little obscure. I know it’s been passed down for like three generations on my mother’s side, but I’m not entirely sure where it came from originally. Either the side of a soup can or one of those recipe books that’s a walking advert for some food item or other; I’m not entirely sure. All I know is that my grandmother taught it to my mother, and my mother taught it to me, and while I am never going to actually have kids, I did teach it to my brother (okay, he’s not really my brother, but I get tired of referring to him as brother-from-another-mother and most of my half- and step-brothers are dickwaffles so screw ‘em all - I have THAT ONE) and he’s been teaching it to everyone who doesn’t run away fast enough, and now I’m passing it on to the wider world, so it will live on past ... well, wherever my grandmother got it.

As you can guess from the name, it is a pork chop recipe, but it can be used with anything that’s not dark meat - apparently it works well not only with chicken, but with tofu as well, and I’d bet you could do it with those really big portobello mushrooms too. But we’ll stick with pork chops because it sets the baselines.

Here’s what you’ll need:

2-4 pork chops

1 can cream of tomato soup

1 onion, sliced

1 green pepper, sliced

Spices to taste

Not an ingredient, but another thing you’ll want to have for this is a fairly deep frying pan, preferably with a lid. You can get away with not covering this one from a culinary standpoint, but this stuff spatters when simmering and tomato soup is not one of the easiest things in the world to clean.

Here’s what you do:

Spice your pork chops according to taste (I like using seasoned salt, garlic granules, onion powder, and a bit of paprika) and brown on both sides

Add the can of soup and a half a can of water (plus whatever other additions you want to make; I generally throw in some of the same spices that were on the pork chops, plus some Worcestershire sauce, a drop of tabasco and, if I have it available, a splash of A1 sauce)

Add the sliced onion and green pepper; stir the sauce just enough to mix it all together and let it cover the vegetables a bit

Cover and simmer for about 20 minutes

On serving, plate your pork chop first, then cover it (and whatever accompaniments you have with the meal) with a couple of serving spoons’ worth of the sauce and top with a couple of slices of onion and green pepper

This one doesn’t come with a list of ways to make things easier because it really is very simple on its own. It’s a good low-pressure bit of cooking that way. The only notes I have are in terms of serving suggestions:

You’re going to want to accompany this one with things that will soak up the sauce well. Rice works well, but I prefer potatoes, and if you that route, go for baked or mashed. That way the sauce ends up like a kind of gravy. For vegetables, something like broccoli works very well for soaking up the sauce but if you’re in the right season for it, go for acorn squash. Similar reasons to potatoes, honestly; the flesh of an acorn squash soaks up liquid really well, and the flavours blend nicely.

Unless you’re doing the full four pork chops, you will have sauce left over at the end of it. Actually, even if you do use the full four pork chops, you will probably still have sauce left over. That’s fine; it keeps well and can actually be eaten as a soup later. Just you end up with a spiced tomato soup, possibly with leftover onion and green pepper, instead of regular cream of tomato soup.

The pork chops do also keep well, so even if you’re cooking for one, it’s worth doing two or even four of these at a go. The sauce will keep the meat moist on reheating.

Not exactly a secret family recipe, but one that’s served me well over the years. Like the name suggests, it feels more festive than just the average pork chop.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Big Weekend Plans

Yeah, okay, pushed it too far this week and now am attempting to decide what to do with myself. Tonight’s cookery extravaganza is going to be roast pork, mostly because all it involves is basically coating the rind in salt (for to make crackling, y’see) and shoving it in the oven. Thing is, I really did want to make potato soup today and now I’m looking at peeling and chopping and blending (because I have to make half-and-half, because they do not have that in this country) and fart-arseing around with the instant pot and going, “Oh, gods, do I have to?!?". And, I mean, technically I don’t have to. None of it’s going to go bad if I save this all for tomorrow. But the idea of settling down on the sofa with potato soup and Korean horror later on when the sun finally goes down is seriously enchanting. It’s just a shame that it all requires so much ... doing things.

Also, if I wait until tomorrow, it’s going to interfere with the marinading process for tandoori chicken, which I need to start first thing. This takes awhile, apparently, because it involves cooking some spices in oil, and then throwing yoghurt and lemon juice and stuff in it and then coating the chicken with that and letting it sit for about six hours. I’m also going to have to skin my chicken legs, but that’s okay - one recipe I’ve got (I don’t remember which, but it was somewhere in my “Ooh, yay, Japanese favourite” list) requires that one cooks chicken skins until all the chicken grease comes out, for to use in cooking. So as weird as this sounds, I am going to skin my chicken leg quarters and then throw the skins in the freezer for later use. Which is good because the reason I half-forgot that recipe was because I had a thing about “How am I supposed to just get random chicken skin?!?” and envisaged myself asking a butcher about that (which I guess I could probably do, especially if I went to Peckham, but my anxiety forbids that level of potential weird). I guess this is the other way of doing it.

On the subject of cooking, I had a flip through my new One Tin cookbooks, and ... okay, the first one’s more or less fine but the second is all kinds of fancy. There’s figs and pomegranate and parma ham and goat’s cheese and a whole bunch of stuff that I’m looking at like, “Well, I guess this never said anything about being on a budget...” Because this lady does not seem to have ever been in the same room as “budget”, given the ingredients. I should hand that one over to my mother. She’d probably appreciate it a lot more. My stepfather, on the other hand, probably not. Her last complaint in his direction was something about being frustrated that he insists on carbs - rice or potatoes or pasta - with every meal. Meanwhile I’m sitting there going, “I’m with my stepfather on this one”. At least in part because stuff like that is filling and tasty and, most of all, not that expensive in comparison to a lot of the vegetables that take the place of carbs in recipes like that. (Well, I mean, except for the pasta in my case, because gluten-free is always just made of expensive, but y’know.)

Basically there’s a lot to do this weekend. My tomato plants have grown like kudzu the last couple of weeks and it might be time to repot them soon. Honestly, same for my marigolds, asters, zinnia, and black-eyed Susans. The coriander’s not doing too shabby either, though I’m probably going to wait just a little longer - maybe another week - before I shove it into a larger pot and put it on the balcony rail. Honestly, the whole lot could probably wait another week, and might have to, because this weekend is about starting meal prep for the next little while. It’s just nice to have all the stuff I need in the fridge or freezer, ready for defrosting and/or reheating. I don’t think I could do gardening on top of that. Plus it’s better when the root structures of my plants are a little tighter; I don’t like cramping them, but I also find it’s easier to replant them when the roots are really well-established and keeping the soil in place. So another week won’t hurt, and I can do it when there’s less spoon energy required for cooking things.

Which means I should probably suck it up and start my potato soup. Get some use out of my gluten-free flour. Also clear some space in the potato bowl. Look, I had plans towards this soup and aloo gobi and Japanese curry and those all require a metric buttload of potatoes - literally, as a lot of the recipes I trip over are American and I keep having to go, “Okay, so how much is that in metric?” Seriously, I’m so glad people stopped talking about trying to make the UK go back to Imperial units becuase holy fuck would that get people confused. Base 10 is a good thing, guys.

...Oh fuck, Monday’s the May bank holiday. I was going to pick up my prescription on Monday and my local pharmacy, where I get my prescriptions, is generally speaking shut on bank holidays. But I do have enough to last me until I can pick it up on Tuesday, so that’s okay. Just aggravating because I was hoping to fit that trip in on Monday so I don’t have to go rushing down there either just before work or just after work on Tuesday. This is the problem with having Mondays off in perpetuity - you tend to forget things like bank holidays.

[thedevillionaire]

It’s No Secret

Little domestic moment with my darlings, no plot other than a mildly irregular day in the Demonics Office. --- Kia knocks, opens the door and enters the Demonics Office in a fluid, nonchalant motion like there’s no risk involved in such an act whatsoever.

“Hey, hon, you busy?”

Cerberus, with a sharp sniffle, vaporises the latest clutch of used tissues he’s holding and glances up from his seat at the desk as his bonded, unannounced and unexpected, flashes him a vibrant smile as she moves to meet him, bestowing a quick kiss and no time to reply.

“No, okay, great, because…”

She mumbles a rhetorical “Can I just shift… I’m just gonna…” as she moves a few papers aside, puts the small hamper she’s carrying down in their place, and looks Cerberus over in quick assessment. He’d been headachy, distracted and sniffly morning-long. Early afternoon now, and the light hint of pink to his nostrils, the tiredness muting the intensity of his gaze, the remnant scent of smoke from recurrent tissue immolations combine to suggest that nothing much has changed. He presses the back of his hand against his nose with more than a little force, and sniffles again.

“Okay, first, this is honey and ginger tea.” Kia holds up a thermos, points to it. “It should still be pretty warm but you’ll probably want to reheat it anyway. Figured that wouldn’t be a problem, though.” She smiles and winks playfully.

“Anyway—” She pushes some more desk accoutrements aside, ignores the fleeting mildly pained expression this action brings from Cerberus, and sits on the desk to face him. “—you know that whole ‘the secret ingredient is love’ thing, right? When someone cooks something and it’s extra good and you ask them how it’s so good and the answer is that the secret ingredient is love?”

Cerberus, not quite sure where she’s going with this, gives her a quizzical look. It’s gearing up to be a particularly relentless week, as Influx is every year, and he’s only just at the beginning of arranging it all, he’s done very little of it to completion, and delaying further won’t help anything at all. “Yes, darkling, I suppose so, but I…” He wryly indicates a paper with a mess of unfinalised schedules on it. Another sniffle sees him claim another tissue.

Kia is not going to be distracted from her cause.

“Well, my love is not a secret.” Directing his attention now to a soup canister, she removes the cover to proudly display the contents. Floating in the broth are several vegetables which have been precisely cut into heart shapes. “It’s actual. Look - you can see the love!” She points at a heartcarrot. “Which obviously means it’s the best soup ever,” she adds with certainty, waving a presentational flourish over the soup and smiling broadly. “Anyway, so, like, I did the carrot and potato but the chicken is just shredded because it’s hard to make hearts out of chicken. Also the corn, it’s just…it’s really tiny.”

Cerberus laughs with a genuine, heartwarmed delight. This is so very Kia, so very the essence of his beloved – these thoughtful eccentricities, percipient kindnesses, the joy she always brings with it – and he curls a hand through her rich brunette waves, touches a kiss to her forehead.

“It’s wonder…” He clears his throat as his voice catches a little, sniffles again and wipes his nose. “Excuse me. It’s wonderful, love, you’re wonderful, but, really, you needn’t have gone to the trouble. I’m al… hh…” His expression collapses into an immediately surrendered frown, haze falling over emerald eyes, and he brings the tissue he’s holding up in cover, turns from Kia as much as he can in the almost no time he’s afforded before he capitulates, urgent, needful, unforgiving. “HUHTSSCH-uu! Huh-TSSCH-uu! Hh-hh… HH… AhhHETSCHUU!”

The room spins a little more than he’s prepared for and he takes a moment for a chagrined wry recovery. “Damn it. *snff!* Couldn’t have timed that more badly if I’d tried.” He clears his throat again, wipes his nose firmly. “Pardon me.”

“Bless you. Lucky for you I brought this amazing and clearly needed chicken and vegetable love soup.”

He chuckles wryly, thanks her for the blessing and wipes his nose again, just as ineffectively as the last time. “And I do appreciate it, darkling, I truly do, but I will be fine, I promise.” And he still mostly believes it, although with somewhat less conviction than perhaps he did earlier.

A languid hand weaves through falls of ebony hair as she meets his gaze, her tone faux stern for, “Oh, I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Any form of you holding me suits me perfectly well, love.” Cerberus incinerates the tissue before indicating the multitude of papers awaiting his attention. “But unfortunately, for the moment, duty calls.”

Kia sighs, just a little. “Well, if you really absolutely do have to be all big bad formidable Demon king or whatever today, you definitely need the soup,” she says, the undertone of chastisement clear as she trails a fingernail along angular cheekbone. “You’ve barely made it through a sentence without sniffling since I got here, you know.”

He’d love to not sniffle again at this point, but despite that, he absolutely does.

She quirks a knowing eyebrow at him, leans in closer for a warm, lingering kiss, and Mindsends :Nobody is too formidable for soup.:

She leans back again, looks at him in gentle yet firm challenge. “And don’t you even try to pretend.”

Cerberus chuckles wryly, shakes his head. “Ah, darkling, I wouldn’t dare.”

This magnificent goddess. The call of duty is lessening by the second.

He wraps an arm around her waist in desirous embrace, pulling her close, raising the ambient heat both with thought and physical touch. Pushing her hair aside with slow, indulgent tenderness, he tucks silken chestnut behind her ear to press a kiss to her neck, his sly smile practically tangible as he murmurs a susurrant baritone I used to run this place, you know.

“Mmh,” Kia manages, heat suffusing her, wanton volcanic, and she leans in, tracing her fingers languorously over her bonded’s face as she does so. She feels his nostrils twitch against her touch, senses as much as hears the short, sharp inhalation he cannot help but take, and the heat already burning her rises again, incendiary.

And the Demon king would very much like to not continue to perfect the art of inopportune timing but his powers have no dominion here, not in the face of this irresistible need, this culmination desperate. He turns to stifle against his shoulder, once and then again – “HXTchu! HXXTCHu!” – and he Mindsends an apology as the need, only increased with the suppression, returns renewed insistent powerful absolute and he inhales deeply, doubles over into folded arms, surrendered.

“Huh-AAHTSSCHHUU! Hhh… hh-TSSCHH-uu! HHTSSCHH-uu!”

Kia’s Mindsent :Bless you, sweetheart: is a vibration through body and soul.

“hh-AHH… Ah-TSSCHH-uu! Ah, gods.” Cerberus sniffles fiercely, murmurs a thank you and an apology, and sighs. “I suppose I’m doomed at this point, hm? Excuse me, love.” He claims a sequence of tissues and blows his nose thoroughly, which does stop the sniffling – in the short-term, at least. And it may simply be the presence of his beloved, but he strangely finds himself feeling better than he’s felt all day, even if he’s not exactly sounding the part, and he chooses the path of optimism again. “I’m sure I’ll be alright, though, honestly. These things do pass.”

“These things pass if you take care of yourself,” Kia says, her senses electric, vibrant. “Or maybe…instead of that…you could let—” The words are purred as her entire demeanour shifts, seductive, sultry. “—some very willing and—” She doesn’t break eye contact for so much as a moment as she reaches down to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants, and tenderly wrap her hand around him. “—very able person—" Her voice is as velvet as her touch, slowstroking with warm and firm caress. “—help with that. After all…”

:It’s no secret.:

Cerberus softgrowls with pure desire as he embraces and takes his beloved, barricades the door with directed thought, and forgets any semblance of duty entirely.

 ---

[calummss]

Kylian Mbappe Drabble

masterlist

summary: you’re sick but that doesn’t mean you lose your jest

pairing: fem! reader x kylian mbappe

words: 600

a/n: i’m actually sick so i wanted to base something on it. i also feel like this is 100% what his relationship would be like

‘You’re mum is such an angel,’ you croaked, the scratching at the back of your throat unpleasant.

‘She loves you,’ Kylian smiled, ‘she really does. The second I asked her to make her famous cold-soup, she asked if it was for me. When I said no and mentioned that it was you, do you know what she said?’

‘What?’

‘I quote: ‘My baby is sick? I should get cooking straight away. I’ll make the recipe a little different than normal and add lots of beans because she loves them. I’ll make an exception for her.’ And immediately went to the kitchen. She literally loves you more than me?’

You chuckled in response. A grin on your face as Kylian told you the story. Fayza was truly an angel and the way she had treated you from the start. You often had café or restaurant dates with her, meeting for a day off whenever you could.

‘I’m sure she still loves you…a little less than me maybe but it’s nothing to get upset over,’ you jested, resting your head against his arm, your body growing heavier as the minutes went by. ‘Try being more like me.’ You placed a peck on his upper arm.

‘You’ve grown more annoying and sarcastic since being sick. I hope you feel better soon because it seems to me that I am the one suffering here.’

You started laughing only to fall into a fit of coughing that made Kylian burst out laughing too.

‘Asshole.’

‘Ahhh,’ he wrapped his arms around you. ‘You’re so cute when you are mean. Now go lie down and close those anger filled eyes whilst I reheat the soup.’

Too tired to let out another word you ambled across the living room before ascending up the stairs to lie down in bed, shivers indicating that you had been out of bed for too long.

‘I’m still a little upset because I won’t be there to secretly support you at your match today,’ you said as soon as he emerged behind the bedroom door, carrying a tray with a big bowl of the soup as well as two tangerines.

‘You can support me from home by watching the game on the television.’

‘But it won’t feel the same,’ you pouted, adjusting your beanie. ‘You should feel pressure to win because your pretty girlfriend is there…’

Kylian chuckled. ‘I’ll feel pressure knowing that my pretty girlfriend is sitting in front of the TV, cursing at me and that when I come home I’ll have a second coach scolding me, only that that one is cuter doing so.’

‘You’re making me blush or throw up, one of the two.’ You gave him a disgusting look.

‘I like seeing you blush because of me,’ he came closer, making your heart skip a beat as he didn’t break eye contact.

‘Kylian, this is becoming too lovey-dovey for me. Take your bag and leave for the game. Otherwise I’ll scold you for making me love you even more tsks.’

Kylian laughed, placing a kiss on your forehead. ‘I love you.’

‘You’ll do well. I know it.’ You told him before he left your room, leaving you with the still steaming soup.

Watching the game, Kylian proved how well he was doing. His team already scored 3-1 and they weren’t slowing down. When Kylian did score you noticed how he didn’t do his usual celebration but instead lifted his shirt where you read the words: Eat your soup and scold me later. A smile painted your lips as you realised how confused the fans must’ve been since your relationship was still out of the public eye, but it made the gesture so much more sweeter and meaningful.