#he reheats the soup a little later...

[writeriguess]

KATSUKIIIII X F READER where she's having her periods??

Boom Boy & the Blood Moon

You didn’t move from the couch, buried beneath five layers of blankets, a slowly cooling heating pad, and the crushing weight of cramps that felt like your uterus was trying to murder you from the inside out.

Your phone buzzed again.

You ignored it.

Another buzz.

Then a knock.

Then the sound of your front door unlocking.

You groaned into your pillow.

“Y/N?”

Bakugou’s voice carried into the room like a warning shot. “Why the fuck aren’t you answering me?”

You didn’t lift your head.

“Because I’m in hell,” you mumbled. “Literal, bloody hell.”

You heard him pause near the door, scanning the scene like he just walked into a crime scene.

“You sick?”

“No,” you groaned. “Worse.”

His tone shifted instantly.

“...Shit.”

“What is it? What happened?”

You flopped one hand out from the blanket burrito and gave him a dramatic wave.

“Period,” you said mournfully. “Cramps. Pain. Suffering.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh.”

You peeked up at him. He stood awkwardly at the edge of the room, as if unsure whether to step closer or leave you to die in peace.

His hands were in the pockets of his hoodie, jaw tight.

“You dying or just being dramatic?”

You squinted at him.

“You ever had a cramp that made you want to punch God?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“...No?”

“Exactly. Then shut up and let me die.”

Bakugou snorted.

“You’re so fuckin’ dramatic.”

You grumbled and buried yourself deeper into your blanket. “Go away.”

“No.”

You heard him disappear into the kitchen. Cabinets opened. Something clattered. Then silence.

You were drifting off when he returned, carrying a tray.

“Move over.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He nudged you with his knee.

“I said move, dumbass.”

You grunted but shifted slightly. He set the tray on the coffee table, then gently peeled away the cooling heating pad from your belly.

“This is cold.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you muttered.

He didn’t say anything. Just left the room again. A minute later, he came back and handed you a warm one.

“Here.”

You blinked. “Did you… reheat it for me?”

“Tch. What, you want a fuckin’ medal?”

You smiled despite yourself.

“No. Just… thanks.”

“Eat,” he said, pointing at the tray. “I made soup.”

You stared at it.

“Did you poison it?”

He rolled his eyes.

“If I wanted you dead, you’d already be six feet under.”

You took a sip. It was actually good. Warm, salty, exactly what your angry body needed.

“…This is really nice.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch, watching you.

“I remembered you said chocolate helps,” he said casually. “So I brought your dumb snacks, too.”

You looked over. Sure enough — a bag of your favorite candy and a fresh pack of pads were sitting beside the tray.

Your heart squeezed.

“Katsuki…”

He looked away quickly.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“But you remembered the brand.”

He shrugged.

“You act like I don’t pay attention. You’re bleeding and pissy and curled up like a dead bug. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”

You laughed softly. “Dead bug?”

“Shut up.”

You took another sip of soup.

“I’m serious, though. You didn’t have to come. I was just gonna cry into a heating pad and hope for the best.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” he said. “I’m here. Deal with it.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Okay.”

He grunted, but didn’t move away.

You stayed like that for a while — eating, sipping tea, listening to the low hum of the TV.

Then:

“Katsuki?”

“What now?”

“Do I gross you out like this?”

He blinked.

“What?”

You fidgeted.

“Like… bleeding and whiny and gross. Do I gross you out?”

He stared at you.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

You looked away. “I dunno.”

Bakugou reached over and turned your face toward him.

“Listen,” he said slowly. “You could be covered in blood, sweat, dirt, whatever — and I still wouldn’t think you’re gross.”

You blinked.

“I’ve seen people explode in battle, Y/N. Your period is not gonna scare me.”

You laughed, a little teary.

“I love you.”

He scoffed.

“‘Course you do. I’m amazing.”

You smacked his arm lightly.

“Ass.”

He smirked and pulled you closer.

“I love you too, dumbass.”

You melted against him, full heart and sore belly and all.

He wrapped his arms around you, one hand pressed gently over the heating pad, the other stroking your hair.

And for once, the cramps didn’t seem quite so bad.

[deja-you]

Starling: Act II

bucky barnes x reader

masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

word count: 2.1k

summary: You don't mean to fall into a routine with the man down the hall, but somehow you do. Neither of you talks about it--and neither of you stops it, either.

You’ve slept in. 

It’s not unusual for you to do so, you usually work late shifts bartending at a bar a couple blocks away, and you prefer being awake during the quieter hours of the night (much like a certain neighbor of yours). So waking up around noon has become pretty standard for you. 

You open your door to find a mason jar of butternut squash soup and a candle labeled Emotional Intimacy and Other Lies. You know exactly who left it there, but you pick up the note and read it anyway.

For the wounded stray and her emotionally repressed soulmate. - Soraya

She’s written a postscript: P.S. Keller filed another noise complaint. 

You roll your eyes. Of course he did. 

Soraya is a kind woman in her late forties who lives with her partner and two dogs, and she has an awful habit of leaving soup on your doorstep every Sunday, often accompanied by candles she makes herself and sells on her Etsy shop called Wick’d Woman. You have an Etsy account under a false name where you secretly buy candles from her as a way to pay her back for her kindness. 

You’re opening up the candle to see what this one smells like when you hear the door handle on the apartment down the hall twist. Your eyes flick up to meet steel blue eyes and both of you pause for a second. He breaks eye contact to lock his door. 

Bucky walks by your door on his way out and pauses a couple feet away from you. He smells like old leather and something warm – like the space between clean laundry and a storm rolling in. Familiar, like something you won’t admit you missed. Like home, maybe, if that’s something you believed in. 

He eyes the note Soraya’s written out in her loud penmanship. 

“Soulmate?” He questions. 

You screw the lid back onto the candle. Soraya uses the same mason jars for her soup as she does for her candles. You make a mental note to see if you can taste any wax the next time you reheat the soup, or if you can smell any butternut squash the next time you light a candle. Either way, you remind yourself to clean out the mason jars and return them to her front door once you’ve finished your soup or burned through your candles. 

“She ships us. Aggressively,” you respond.

“What does that mean?”

A smile tugs at your lips. “Don’t worry about it, Grandpa.” 

He grumbles something under his breath and then he’s headed down the stairwell. 

-

You stare at the package on your counter–lightweight, padded envelope, no return address. You stare, and it doesn’t stare back… because it’s an inanimate object. You sigh and scoop it up, ripping it open with your keys.

Inside: three vacuum-sealed packs of tactical knife oil. 

You blink. 

No note. No context. Just violence in liquid form.

Two seconds later there’s a knock at your door. 

You open the door to find Bucky holding your crushed box of protein bars like it personally offended him.

“Yours,” he says.

You hold up the half-open package. “So’s this, I’m guessing?”

You exchange packages in silence.

“You don’t look like a double-fudge protein kind of guy,” you offer, just to twist the knife a little.

“You don’t look like you order mission-ready weapon lubricant in bulk.”

You blink.

“Okay, that’s fair.”

He looks back at you.

“I don’t understand how this happened.”

“Well, one of us has a federal record. I’m assuming you’ve cursed the USPS.”

“I didn’t–” he cuts himself off, eyes narrowing at you. “Why are you ordering this much protein?”

“Why are you oiling that many knives?”

“They need to stay sharp.”

“So do I.” 

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. He mutters thanks. You nod. The door shuts.

That’s the end of it. Except it’s not. 

Three days later, you’re crouched in the hallway with a bent screwdriver trying to realign a loose outlet plate. You’re muttering under your breath, swearing vengeance on the guy who installed it like he was being paid by the crooked angle. Your screwdriver is garbage.

The handle’s cracked, the head’s stripped, and honestly, you only keep it because it’s the one tool you haven’t lost in a move. You're crouched in the hallway prying a loose outlet cover back into place when you hear a familiar shuffle of footsteps behind you.

You don’t turn. You just say:

“If you're here to report me to building management again, take a number. Mr. Keller beat you to it.”

“I think Keller reports you in his dreams.”

You glance up. Bucky stands there, arms crossed, expression unreadable except for the faint twitch in his eyebrow. You hold up the screwdriver.

“This thing’s a tetanus lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“It’s got character.”

“It’s got a death wish.”

“So do I,” you shoot back.

He snorts—quiet, but there.

“Can I borrow it?”

You blink.

“What, the death wish?”

“The screwdriver.”

“You're gonna fix something?”

“I have skills,” he says flatly.

“Yeah. Brooding. Glowering. Now minor home repairs?”

He grabs the tool without dignifying that with a response.

Just then, Soraya’s door opens down the hall. She’s in pajama pants and a slouchy tee that says Manifest or Die Trying. Mug in hand.

She pauses, mug in hand, eyebrow already raised.

“Well, well. Sharing tools now. Domestic.”

“Soraya…” you warn.

“I just think it’s beautiful,” she says, unbothered. “What a meet-cute. I ship it.”

“It’s not a–”

“Say you’re cooking him something nice tonight. I’ll bring wine.”

“Please go away.”

Bucky mutters something under his breath and walks off, screwdriver in hand.

Soraya just sips her tea and says, “Told you. Soulmates.”

The screwdriver comes back the next day. Sort of.

It’s sitting on your doormat when you get home—no note, no announcement. The cracked handle is gone, replaced with black grip tape wrapped perfectly tight and trimmed flush.

You stare at it.

You don’t smile.

…you might smile.

A couple nights later, you cook. Door cracked open. Not for a reason. Just... open.

Yesterday you found a bag of groceries propped up against your door, no note, no explanation. If you didn’t know any better, they could have all been poisoned or there could have been a bomb at the bottom of the bag. But you do know better. And without any note, you know they were dropped off by your brooding neighbor down the hall. 

The playlist’s on. Your usual chaotic noise is blasting through the speakers. 

Halfway through chopping onions, you hear him.

Not footsteps. Just the hesitation of breath at the doorway.

You don’t look. You don’t say anything.

You stir the garlic into the pan.

Behind you, you hear him shift.

Then—

“You always leave your door open when you cook?”

“Nope.”

You don’t offer more. He doesn’t ask.

You keep cooking. He steps inside.

Quietly.

Like it might break if he moves too fast.

He leans on the counter. Watches.

“Is this what you always listen to?” He grumbles. 

Your eyes meet his and you raise an eyebrow. “You got a problem with that?”

He mutters something under his breath along the lines of kids these days. 

You roll your eyes at his comment, and if you add some Sam Cooke and Al Green to the queue later on that evening, neither of you mention it. You notice his fingers tap along subtlety to the more old school tunes. 

“Smells good,” he says, not quite looking at you.

“That’s the garlic. It does all the work.”

“I brought you groceries the other day,” he adds. “Thought I got too much.”

“You did. So I used them.”

“Figured.”

He leans on the counter. You pretend not to notice.

“Soraya’s still watching, you know.”

“Let her.”

You toss the pasta into the pan, and hand him a knife wordlessly and he picks up where you left off chopping the onions. He’s skilled with the knife, which doesn’t surprise you at all. 

“She’s not wrong, you know,” you say suddenly, not looking up.

“About what?”

You glance at him. Smirk a little.

“You are good with your hands.”

He stares.

You arch a brow.

He walks past you to grab two bowls from the cabinet like he’s done it a thousand times.

Neither of you mentions the door when it shuts softly behind him.

-

Dr. Raynor doesn't look up right away. She's flipping through her notepad, pen moving like she's more interested in the way silence makes Bucky squirm than whatever she’s actually writing.

“You mentioned her again.”

Bucky shifts in his chair. Crosses his arms. Uncrosses them. Leans back like he’s trying to disappear into the cheap faux-leather cushion.

“She’s just... around.”

Dr. Raynor hums like that’s the most fascinating thing she’s heard all week.

“Around like you let her in, or around like you haven’t figured out how to avoid her yet?”

He scowls at the wall. Avoids her gaze. His jaw works through the silence like he’s chewing on something too bitter to swallow.

“She’s... not nosy.”

Raynor glances up then, arching a brow.

“That’s a weird compliment, but okay.”

“She never asks questions,” he adds after a beat. Voice quieter now, rougher around the edges. “But she notices things.”

There’s something unspoken in that. Something he hasn’t quite figured out how to say out loud. Dr. Raynor sees it. She doesn’t press. Not yet.

“And you like that?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Leans forward, elbows on knees, staring down at the threadbare patch in the rug beneath his boots.

“Yeah.”

It’s barely audible. Like it wasn’t meant for the room.

Dr. Raynor watches him for a long moment, then flips to a new page in her notebook.

She doesn’t ask again.

-

You’ve put off taking out the trash until a perfectly lovely rainstorm. It’s moments like these that make you rethink all your life decisions. It’s the kind of rain that soaks through clothes and makes the fire escape groan. 

Today your walls feel too close and your kitchen smells of burnt rice and you’re almost relieved to have the task of throwing out the trash to get you out of your apartment. You had considered grabbing the umbrella, but decided it would be more trouble than it was worth. Your hoodie is already damp and the slippers you swore you wouldn’t wear outside again are absorbing rainwater quickly. 

You step around the corner to throw out the trash. That’s when you meet his gaze. You both freeze. 

Bucky is in a black leather jacket, soaked. In one hand he holds a black pet carrier. 

Inside, a very unimpressed white cat. 

You stare at the cat. She stares back at you. She meows once. Indignantly. If a cat can even be that. 

Bucky is still frozen. Caught. He doesn’t flinch but his expression reads as deep resignation.

“Barnes, don’t tell me you stole that cat,” you say dryly. 

“She… followed me.” 

You eye the little folder of paperwork tucked beside the cat in the carrier, unconvinced. “In that carrier? With a microchip?” 

A beat. 

“...the shelter was slow with the paperwork,” he admits quietly. 

A small smile spreads across your face at his admission and you take this moment to step under the awning next to him. The rain drums overhead. Bucky wordlessly takes the bag of garbage from your hand with his free hand and effortlessly tosses it in the dumpster. 

You kneel to look into the carrier. The cat blinks at you. You blink back. She presses her face against the mesh and meows once, softly this time. You reach out and open the carrier slowly. Bucky doesn’t stop you. 

The cat pads out of the carrier, regal and unbothered, and winds around your ankles before climbing straight into your lap. 

Bucky scoffs in disbelief. “Traitor.” 

You meet his eyes with a grin. “She has excellent taste.” 

You’re petting her absentmindedly while Bucky watches with a grim sort of defeat. 

“You name her yet?”

“She’s white… so… Alpine.” 

“Alpine?”

“I’m not creative.”

You laugh softly. “Better than ‘Cat.’ Leagues ahead of most men.” 

Bucky hadn’t planned on adopting her. Not really. He saw her curled up alone at the shelter. Small. Overlooked. Something about it felt too familiar. He doesn’t say it out loud, but like usual, you seem to silently understand and accept it. You don’t mock him or overreact. 

Instead, you lift Alpine gently and place her against Bucky’s chest. She meows in protest. Bucky’s holding her awkwardly, like he’s afraid to be holding something so breakable. You open the back entrance for the two of them.

[vamplvs]

rly hope that when i'm sick like i'm getting rn, that joaquin would join me in watching uk youtubers :(

excuse how weird the formatting of this is and how short it is. i fear i'm also starting to get sick <//3

when you're sick, he pampers the hell out of you. for as long as it takes for you to get better, what you say goes. yet another excuse to talk about joaquín as an acts of service kind of guy

hungry? he's already got soup warming on the stove (none of that reheating in the microwave nonsense, not while you're sick), and the pantry is already filled with your favorite snacks. he keeps an extra water bottle handy, too, just in case. as a matter of fact, the medicine cabinet gets stocked up. when he found the time to go out and get it all, you can't be sure.

taking a nap? the curtains are already drawn, and the bed is made. and if you want him to stay with you, he's in the bed before you can blink. he shrugs off any concerns you have about getting him sick, saying that if he does, that just means more time at home with you.

want to watch something? great! the clicker is all yours, and he'll be sitting right next to you the whole time. on the off chance you pick something he isn't into, well, he is now! he gets invested so quickly—asking questions about what's happening and who's involved.

"you feeling any better, angel?" he mumbles into your ear. he's been half asleep since you both curled up on the couch to watch something, and you aren't faring much better. there are empty bowls sitting in front of you on the coffee table, and the tv plays on quietly. your eyes droop more and more as each second passes, and it takes everything in joaquín not to laugh at you just a little bit.

"mmm, i'm tired," you say, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"want to finish watching this now or later?" even though he's not sure you'll stay awake until the end, he asks anyways.

"now," but your voice is already fading.

"you sure you don't want to get to bed?" you just hum in confirmation, breathing already starting to even out—through the sniffling, that is.

he doesn't mind, though. he'll stay on this couch with you as long as you need him to, and he's more than happy to act as your pillow. his fingers draws soft circles on the nape of your neck, letting you get the rest you so desperately need.

if he's totally sure you're out, he'll carry you gently back to bed and tuck you under the blankets. he's laying next to you within moments, of course.

when you wake up, there's a hand slung over you, holding you close to him, and a full water bottle on your bedside table, just in case.

[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. 

[lillaydee]

In the Dark

Joel Miller / His Ladies

Experiencing my first blackout in years (just as I finished unpacking too!) so I'm bored and I have a fully charged phone in my hands.

How would Joel Miller from 2 of my fics (Numbed and Head Over Heels) comfort his ladies during a blackout?

Written on my phone, without editing. So sorry for my Fat Fingers Errors.

Joel Miller/Emma (Numbed)

He came home late that night. You had texted him to tell him the lights were out. A whole ten miles radius, it seemed. He decided since the AC wouldn't be on, he would stay a little longer at the bar he was at, maybe play a few more rounds of pool. Tommy went straight home, as did the other guys - wanting to get home to their wives and for some, their kids.

He left an hour later. Not much fun hanging out when you're alone. And there was a group of ladies who kept bugging him.

He knew your mother was not home. Sarah was at a sleepover. He saw you as soon as he drove up the driveway, sitting on the steps of your front door of your darkened house, waiting for him to come home.

You got up and went to him when he parked, asking him if he'd had dinner. He hadn't. You waited for him to unlock the door and you went in with him to reheat some tomato soup and make him a grilled cheese sandwich. You sat with him as he ate, glad for his company in the dim battery operated lamp he had turned on.

He ate quietly, thanking you when he was done. He waited as you did the dishes, and then stood awkwardly in front of the front door, telling you he was tired, and that he needed to sleep. He opened his front door, telling you without words that he wanted you to leave.

"Um, I don't have any lights or candles. I was hoping you'd let me stay just this once."

He knew you were afraid of the dark. Memories of the early days when the electric supply was cut off back when your Mom couldn't afford to pay the bills caught up to you every time it happened.

But he was worried about what might happen if he opened this door for you. If he let you stay. He couldn't risk it.

He looked contemplative for a while, finally shutting the front door and going into his room. You arranged the cushions on the couch to settle into, but the bedroom door opened and Joel came back out, holding another battery operated light.

"Here," he said, handing you the light and the one already lit. "Your Mom should be home in a bit. You'll be alright with the two lights."

He opened the front door again, his expression a mystery in the darkness. You walked out, both lights in hand. You didn't even have the chance to say thank you for the lights when you heard the door close behind you, the bolt locked in.

You held your tears as you walked back home. One day. One day he will appreciate you and maybe even love you back.

You just needed to be patient.

Joel Miller/Elena (Head Over Heels)

Joel was out for patrol when the dam breaker failed. He returned to a darkened Jackson, panic filling his person - thinking that the worst had happened. Was there an attack? Shit. Elena. Ellie.

But as he got nearer to the gate, his team close behind him, he saw that the gate was well guarded, torches lit here and there for guidance.

The guards shouted for them to introduce themselves, asking what the password was, seeing as they couldn't clearly see. It'd been a couple of hours, they told him. The generator didn't kick in. There would be much to get done the next day to get everything running again. Emergency candles were handed out to the households in the meantime.

He rode Captain all the way to the stables, heart filled to the brim with worry. Two hours? Were you alright? He knew you could take care of yourself, but his head was filled with all the worst case scenarios anyway. What if you fell going down the stairs? What if you couldn't get the fire going? It's freezing. What if you were scared? What if...

He jumped off Captain as soon as he got to the stables, leaving him with Hank, running the rest of the way home. His heart rate lowered ever so slightly seeing the flickering from the fireplace coming out the windows. He rushed inside, somehow managing to remind himself to shut the door quietly in case you were asleep. The living room was warm with the light and heat from the fireplace, but empty. The house was quiet. He silently toed his boots off, walking softly towards the kitchen, his heart refusing to rest until he saw you were alright.

He turned the corner into the kitchen, and a figure came at him with a baton like weapon raised high above their head. He managed to slip out of the way, his hand disarming the attacker, the weapon clattering to the floor, his attacker's hand twisted to their back, their body pinned to the kitchen wall.

"Owww!!! Joel!!!"

Shit.

"Baby? Are you okay? Fuck. Did I hurt you?" He let go of you, alarmed that he had been so rough. He picked up the weapon he had disarmed from you, a rolling pin, placing it on the kitchen counter.

You rubbed your shoulder, wincing slightly, prompting him to rub it for you, lifting you into his strong arms, carrying you into the living room. He sat down with you on his lap, massaging your shoulder, words of apology falling from his lips.

You giggled. Joel heaved a sigh of relief, rubbing his face.

"Are you fucking with me, Mrs Miller?"

"Why, yes I am, Mr Miller."

"Fuck, I thought I really hurt you there. Scared the living shit out of me."

"Not my fault you walked in silent as a thief."

"I was worried, okay? I thought I was gonna find you with a broken foot on the kitchen floor," he sulked, kissing you.

"What? Why? You know I'm tougher than I look, Miller. Slept on the road in the dark for months, alone for some of it too, I might add, seeing as I was left alone for weeks," you teased.

His face morphed into regret, and you quickly kissed him, whispering that you were only teasing. "I'm sorry Baby, I didn't mean it like that..."

"It's okay, I did leave you..."

"For good reason. I'm sorry I joked about it..." you cooed, kissing him one more time. "But you really shouldn't worry about me. I'm home. I'm alright."

"Where's Ellie?"

"She's in her garage. She did check on me every half an hour. Dina's over. And Marcus and Tommy checked in too."

He held you close, telling you he was glad you were alright.

"Like I said, Mr Miller, I'm tougher than I look."

"I know Baby. I just can't help but worry," he said, his massive hand palming your swollen belly. "Did she behave when the lights went?"

"Yes, they did. How are you so confident they're a girl? We don't exactly have ultrasound these days."

"I just know. It's my lot in life to be surrounded by beautiful, bad ass women. And SHE," he said, lovingly caressing your belly, his lips on yours, "Will be a bad ass too, just like her Mama."

[minlahzz]

A little Lunchbox Love.

synopsis: alain leaves for a trip, but not without a stack of homemade bentos and a note for every meal, all from his beloved partner. word count: 1k+

you can tell why this took long i put my whole pusay power into this:p I cringed a bit, but yknow

alain never asks for much. that’s just how he is.

he lives quietly, travels around the kalos region often, and keeps things to himself in that typical alain way—soft spoken and unreadable, so when he told you he had errands that’d keep him away for a few days, it wasn’t with drama or complaint. just a simple “i’ll be gone for a while.” you expected it, he was the winner of the kalos league and made a big name for himself.

you nodded.

and then you got to work.

because sure, maybe he doesn’t say much, but you listen closely. you remember the way his eyes light up when he eats your tamagoyaki, the way he hums under his breath when a soup’s been perfectly seasoned, how he picks the vegetables out of certain dishes (rude) but eats them anyway if he knows you cooked it.

so no, he didn’t ask for anything—but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t send him off properly.

when he walks into the kitchen the morning of his trip, it's to the sight of a neatly stacked collection of bento boxes, labeled and color-coded with little sticky notes fluttering on the lids like post-it confetti.

“…what’s this?” he blinks, already sounding overwhelmed.

you turn from the stove with a grin, spatula in hand. “your lunch. and dinner. and maybe snacks. depends on how fast you eat, monsieur scarf man.”

he stares at the boxes. then at you. “…all of these are for me?”

“unless charizard wants to try sashimi,” you tease.

truthfully, it’s more than a little overboard. there’s grilled fish bento. there’s karaage bento. there’s seasonal vegetable stir-fry with soba and perfectly sliced tamagoyaki bento. the rice in one box has a tiny heart pressed into it, the pickled plum dead center. there’s even a dessert box with delicate matcha daifuku and sweet potato tarts. you outdid yourself.

and he knows that. it’s obvious in the way he hovers near the counter like he’s afraid to touch anything, like it’s too much to even accept.

“…you didn’t have to do all this,” he says, voice soft.

you flip the stove off. “i know. but i wanted to. just take them, okay? they’re easy to carry. and there are instructions.”

“instructions?”

you grab one of the boxes and pluck the sticky note off the lid, waving it like a flag. “see? reheating tips. reminders. and a few things to make you smile.”

he hesitates before reaching for one of the notes. he reads it once. twice. and then something in his shoulders eases.

“‘remember to actually chew,’” he recites quietly. “‘and don’t glare at anyone too hard unless they deserve it. love you, loser.’ okay the last part was not apart of the instructions...” he pauses. “…you drew me as a charizard.”

“it’s accurate,” you snort. “look at the hair.”

he looks at you unamused crossing his arms, he shook his head denying it. when he finally begins loading the boxes into his bag, you see the way he tucks the notes into his pocket. he tried to look sneaky, but failed. he stayed at the door a bit longer than usual that morning.

you don’t say much when he leaves—just a simple “come back alive!!” and a kiss on the cheek. he doesn’t say much either, but you knew he was happy from how much he kept staring at his bag.

—

he texts you a photo two days later.

it’s blurry and slightly off-center, but it’s unmistakably one of your bento boxes, opened on a rock near a field with charizard in the background. nestled between the compartments is one of your silly little notes: a cartoon drawing of alain and charizard angrily fighting a rogue piece of lettuce with a sword.

his message: the food’s still warm. the note’s stupid. i’m keeping it forever.

you don’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

—

when he finally returns from his long errand, he doesn't immediately come to disturb you or wake you up. you'll wake up from your nap, your kitchen looks exactly the same. your spice rack’s still alphabetized. the dishes are still drying on the rack. but you notice something different despite that.

there’s a little paper stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

it’s a folded note. and in neat, sharp handwriting you know better than your own, it reads:

"everything tasted better than i remembered. thank you."

and under that, scribbled a bit messier:

“(also i did chew, stop slandering me.)”

you laugh, did you love a socially awkward idiot? yes, but that just made you love him even more.

[bwoahtastic]

Oh my godddd lando taking care of max who steadfastly insists that he’s not even sick despite running a fever and barely able to stand up for 5 minutes.

Maybe lando’s still a little nervous one on one with max despite they’re ever more frequent gaming sessions, not like scared of him but just sorta aware that they’re kinda the odd pairing and thinks maybe max doesn’t like him but just doesn’t wanna upset Oscar and Charles.

Lando makes him tea, gives him medicine, reheats the left over soup they’d had the night before, does everything he’s supposed to do but max keeps insisting he doesn’t need help and lando’s worried he’s being overbearing so he goes and lays on the bed in Oscar’s room. He’s had a stressful day and tells himself he’s just gunna rest his eyes for a minute.

He ends up waking up about 4 minutes later to a slightly fevering max crawling into bed next to him asking where he went.

Lando’s like “oh I thought I was bothering you so I wanted to give you space” and max just grumbles and is like “I’m not sick but I still want you around I just don’t like the fussing.”

Oscsr and Charles come back to max sleeping half on top of a very chuffed lando. Charles takes a photo and has it in a little stand up frame on their coffee table.

After that lando can see through max’s gruff exterior

Plss Max clearly being unwell but he is always in denial about it and refuses to admit it, so basically he needs to be babysat and watched until he finally falls asleep and rests lol.

Charles and Oscar pulling Landocaside when it's clear Lando is the only one who had time and giving him a million things to watch out for ("he tried to escape through the fire escape once" "he is secretly very clingy but don't say thst he will sulk" "make him tomato soup, tomato soup is his first love")

Lando being a little nervous because although they are getting better, he is still so aware of being different than Max and the two being a bit of a mismatch at times, not quite sure how to get along yet. Lando spiraling sometimes thinking Max doesn't like him at all but keeps him around for Charles and Oscar and pls he is just worried about sick Max admitting that!

Lando making tea and soup and fussing over Max as much as he dares while Max grumbles he is fine as he looks more and more pale and exhausted by the minute. Lando helping him to bed and daring to stroke his hair a bit as Max falls asleep but then leaving because he is in Max's space too much probably and hiding in Oscar's room!

Lando waking up to a grumbling, feverish Max demanding to know why he left while snuggling up real close to Lando and Lando murmurs his reasoning, feels like Max wanted space and Max just goes "i am not sick! But I really like having you close' before promptly falling asleep.

Charles and Oscar being worried when they come back but pls so so soft seeing Max curled against Lando and Lando is just beaming! For sure the pic gets a prominent place in their apartment skks. Max pretends to grumble about it but he is seen smiling softly at it<3

[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

[phoeniciandoodles]

Fragmentation of the Laer Chapter 4

Fulgrim sighed a bit in relief as a soft smile rose from his face a little.” Thank you Ferrus, til arrival I’ll wait at my current position, I wish you safe travels to your way here.” Ferrus seemed slightly relax for a moment act knowledge the Phoenician’s words.” Just be there when I arrive I want to know everything.” “ You’ve my word Ferrus I promise.” He swore for a moment he saw a look in the gorgon’s eyes hope before Ferrus ended the connection as Fulgrim was left alone to his thoughts…how dreadful.

He felt a bit of relief and hope Ferrus might not have given up hope in him, perhaps he wasn’t hopeless, as he got up stretching a little he had a few hours might as well make something nice to eat and it might help clear his head a bit more, knowing Ferrus even if he was possibly treat him well as a prisoner he had tried the cooking of the cooking serfs and servitors.

To say he has had better would be a understatement the food might be more nutritious in value but didn’t hold a candle to what many of his sons and cooking serfs could do, a meal can be nutritious but it also can be enjoyable anything can be a form of art from the right lense. A meal can a feast for not just the taste but to the eyes and smell as well, from texture to taste every aspect of cooking to Fulgrim was a perfection that could be enjoyed. It made Fulgrim wonder what the Gorgon ate on Medusa, knowing Ferrus well enough Ferrus would eat sand, dirt or rocks.

Fulgrim entered the small kitchen he was used to bigger but he’ll make do he always had before, opening cupboards finding a lot of things he use to make a lot things a shame nothing really fresh but he had options he would make himself something and Ferrus if he could do anything is at least make sure Ferrus enjoys his food and not eat for the sake because he has to.

Pulling from the top of the refrigeration unit Fulgrim pulled out a cookbook, one he filled with recipes from worlds he brought into the imperium sitting down and going through it quickly as might as well find something that could suit Ferrus and his tastes with what the Phoenician had around in the kitchen. Finding something of interest and stopping on the page placing it down on the counter he could make this work just fine.

Fulgrim pulled from the cupboard pulling a broth canned vegetables, some spices and any type of noodles he could find, going over to the refrigeration unit pulling from the freezer some frozen chicken as he took it out carefully and put in the reheated to detha as he turned a stovetop on put the noodles in a pan with water to boil while putting the broth in a pot mixing in the carrots, potatoes and corn into the bot to shimmer and warm up and have the taste mix with the broth.

Fulgrim knew he had hours to wait might as well take his time with the meal. It after for a time the Phoenician lost himself in the work when the noodles were done boiling he mixed then in with the pot daring the pan of water, cooking the chicken took the longest chopping it into small pieces and mixing them into the pot waiting for it to simmer eventually turning the stovetop to minimum to keep the soup hot eventually taking it a ladle and putting some in a bowl.

He took the first bite the flavours crashed over his tongue as he sat down and stared into the emptiness of space just lost in thoughts his regretful actions slowly weighing his consciousness once more. To lose himself in a passion would probably the only break he would have for a time. He enjoyed it for what little time it was, as not long later Fulgrim see the fist of iron and its supporting vessels he put his bowl down.

Going to the pot of soup as he turned off the stove top pour the last of the soup into another bowl as he wrapped up the top and grabbed a spoon for sitting back down. He knew this would be a lot the best he do is try to prepare himself reviving a incoming call.

( thought it would be nice to give Fulgrim at least one break before things get more spicy

[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?...

[eldiatricc]

SCnKnA Boris Airay Best End

Event List

Scene – Clover Town – Alice’s Room

Boris “Ah, morning, Alice. Yawn… I had a weird dream or something.”

When I returned to the room, Boris, who had been asleep, was just waking up. Still a little drowsy, he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

Alice “A weird dream?”

Just the other day, he was dreaming about go-karts. He’s a cat who dreams often.

Boris “Weird, or maybe… scary? Was it a scary dream?”

Alice “…What kind of dream was it?”

Boris “The kind where a friend yanked out my tail.”

Boris “…Why the hell would I dream that? Woke up feeling awful…”

Alice “Well… yeah, I guess that would be kind of scary.”

It doesn’t need to be said—he’s clearly referring to Dee and Dum. They’ve been after Boris’s tail for a while, but maybe they’ve stepped up their attempts lately.

Muttering something like “No way I’m letting them rip it out,” Boris climbs off the bed. His still-sleepy eyes blink rapidly when he sees me.

Boris “Huh? Alice, you look kinda tired.”

Alice “Eh…?”

Sharp, even half-asleep. It's true, I didn’t sleep well either, and I felt sluggish when I woke up.

Maybe I’m coming down with something. And I do have a suspicion about why.

Boris walks right up to me and peers into my face.

Boris “Yeah, you’re definitely tired. And your face is kind of flushed too…”

Boris “You okay? Are you feeling sick? Should I take you to the doctor? Or would you rather just rest here?”

He asks with concern in his voice and worry in his eyes. But…

Alice “Excuse me… but who exactly do you think is responsible for this?”

I give him a half-glare.

Boris “Wait… I’m responsible?”

Boris “Is this about that night after your bath when I got a little too excited—OW OW OW!”

Alice (You didn’t have to say it!)

He went and said something totally unnecessary, so I gave his tail a sharp tug.

Boris “Alice, are you really sick!? You’re way too strong for a sick person!”

Alice “That’s because of what you said! Honestly…!”

Still, I already figured that was probably the reason.

Boris “Aah… yeah, okay, so it was my fault. Sorry, alright?”

Boris “Next time, I’ll be more careful not to let you get chilled after a bath, so forgive—OWW!”

Alice (He’s still going!?)

Boris “Why!? I apologized, didn’t I!?”

Boris “I said I was sorry, so why are you still pulling my—OW OW OW this seriously hurts!!”

Boris “Dee and Dum don’t even go this hard on my tail! Alice, are you trying to rip it off too!? Is this prophetic—a vision of the future!?!”

Alice “If you don’t want that dream to come true, stop saying such things!”

I squeezed his tail hard. Boris quickly surrendered—this round goes to me.

Later

Boris “…Sometimes I honestly wonder if you even like me.”

Boris “Like right now, for example. How many times do I have to tell you I can’t eat hot food?”

I’d stepped out to cook in the kitchen downstairs and reheated the food once Boris woke up, then brought it back to the room.

It’s become a regular thing—breakfast for two (technically lunch, but we just woke up). Today’s menu: piping hot egg soup, salad, bread, and milk.

I just wanted to see the face you make when you hate something…

…Because you're a cat, after all

I’ll never understand, no matter how many times you say it

1. I just wanted to see the face you make when you hate something…

Alice “I just wanted to see the face you make when you hate something…”

Boris “…That’s a pretty wicked hobby, Alice. Funny, though—I love seeing your annoyed face too. It gives me the chills in the best way.”

Boris “You’ve had your fill watching me suffer, right? Now it’s my turn. Show me lots of those annoyed expressions of yours.”

Alice “Hey. That’s not very polite!”

I lightly slapped the hand that was reaching for me.

Alice “…I was kidding. Obviously.”

2. …Because you’re a cat, after all

Alice “…Because you’re a cat, after all.”

Boris “That’s right, I am a cat—got a problem with that? Cats have sensitive tongues. I can’t handle hot food! So remember that, okay?”

Boris “Seriously, I’m begging you here.”

Alice “I do remember. But this time, I had a reason.”

3. I’ll never understand, no matter how many times you say it

Alice “Who knows. Maybe I’ll never understand, no matter how many times you say it.”

Boris “…So you’re saying you don’t plan on learning your lesson, huh?”

Boris “Just so you know—even for you, I have my limits. I really can’t eat hot food.”

Alice “…I was joking. Obviously.”

Choices Converge

Alice “I just needed to warm myself up a bit. Sorry, but could you wait until it cools down?”

Like we’d already discussed, I wasn’t feeling great. If I let it get worse, it could turn into a full-blown cold—so I was trying to prevent that.

I’d been borrowing a corner of the busy inn kitchen, so I didn’t have time to heat things up separately. When I explained this, Boris seemed to understand.

Boris “Well, if that’s the case, you could’ve just said so. That makes sense.”

Alice “Yeah… sorry.”

Boris “It’s fine. I’d hate it if you caught a cold anyway.”

Boris started with the salad, then took a sip of the soup once it had cooled slightly.

Boris “Oh, this is good. Nice bit of pepper. Did you add a little ginger too?”

Alice “I did… Does the flavor bother you?”

Boris “Nah, this much is totally fine. Actually, it’s pretty good. Definitely feels like it’ll warm me up.”

Boris “You whipped up this menu to suit your condition just like that—impressive. Just like you, Alice. You’re a great cook.”

Alice “You’re exaggerating. I didn’t have much time, so it’s kind of a thrown-together meal.”

The soup was hot, after all. I actually felt a bit guilty about that.

Boris “Even if it was thrown together, it’s still really good. Honestly, anything you make for me is a treat. That’s probably why it tastes even better.”

He says the most embarrassing things so casually. Boris is unfair like that.

Even so, he kept complimenting the meal and finished everything on his plate.

Boris “Just being with you makes me feel so happy… I don’t get it. I’m not supposed to be this kind of guy…”

He placed his hands together and gave a soft “thank you for the meal”, then muttered those words with a quiet smile.

I couldn’t help but smile wryly in return.

Alice (If anyone’s breaking character, it’s me.)

I was the one who thought I’d sworn off love for the time being—and now here I am, dating a cat. That alone is unbelievable.

Living almost like we’re sharing a home, making meals for my boyfriend… None of this was ever part of the plan.

Alice (The move wasn’t the only unexpected event… this entire situation is just as surprising.)

Still, I don’t hate this life. If anything…

Alice (My boyfriend is sweet, but free-spirited, mischievous, and jealous—a Cheshire Cat through and through. I know he’ll keep stirring things up…)

But somehow, that makes it fun. I kind of want it to last forever.

And that might just be the biggest “unexpected” of all.

Scene Change – Clover Town – Inn

Man "A hangout spot for cats? Yeah, there’s one in this town too."

When I asked him, that’s what he told me.

He’s the same person who told me about the glowing mushrooms before.

Alice "There is one, huh… Well, every town seems to have at least a few of them."

A place where cats gather. A hangout, a meeting spot—for cats.

Man "Yeah, there’s one here too. The spot where the most cats gather… let me think… probably the alley off West Street."

Man "Near the park with the fountain… Do you know the place?"

Alice "Yes, I know the park. But there are a lot of alleys around there. Which one?"

Man "If you’re interested, you should go check it out. The alley is… hang on, I’ll draw you a map."

Alice "Thanks."

Even after everything that happened, he was still kind as ever.

Man "But Alice, your cat boyfriend might get jealous, you know?"

Alice "I’m just going to see some cats."

Man "Cats don’t like it when their owners look at other cats."

Alice "I’m not Boris’s owner. I’m his girlfriend."

Man "Then he’ll probably be even more jealous…"

Alice "…You think so?"

Man "Most likely… yeah."

Scene Change – Clover Town – Main Area

Meow, meow. Mii, mii.

Myah, myah…

Alice "Wha—"

Alice (thought) (…So cute.)

This is heaven for a cat lover.

Following the directions that man gave me, I arrived at the cat gathering spot. True to its name, the place is full of cats.

Meow, meow. Meow, meow.

I pet one of the cats that comes up to me. As I do, it rubs itself against me affectionately.

Alice (thought) (So… so cute…)

Having owned a cat before, I’m definitely fond of them.

Alice (thought) (It reminds me of Dinah…)

Cats are adorable. I’d forgotten just how adorable they could be.

Alice (thought) (…I was starting to forget.)

Cat "Meow."

Alice "There, there…"

Cat "Meow, meow."

Alice "…Are you hungry? I’ve got some fish. Want some?"

Cat "Meow, meow."

Alice "…Alright then. Here you go."

I offered a few small dried fish I had brought with me.

Cat "Meow, meow."

Cat "Meow meow meow."

Cat "Myah. Meow meow."

Alice "Ahh… don’t fight over it."

For the weaker ones who couldn’t get any, I hand-fed them directly.

Cat "Mii…"

Alice "…You’re a timid little one, huh? The others keep taking your food so easily…"

Alice "…Still so small. Not a kitten, but…"

Alice "…You can’t be this weak if you’re not a kitten anymore."

It was thinner than the other cats. Probably hadn’t been able to get enough food.

Alice "…Where are you from?"

Cat "Nii, nii…"

It licked at the small fish as it ate. Such a small, fragile cat.

Alice "Don’t you have a home?"

Cat "Nii…"

Alice "…………"

Alice (thought) (…Maybe it really doesn’t have a home.)

Alice (thought) (Just like me…)

??? (Boris) "It’s a stray."

Alice "!!!"

At some point, another cat had appeared behind me. I hadn’t noticed at all.

Boris "You don’t need to be feeding such a weakling."

Boris casually lifted the little cat by the scruff.

Alice "B-Boris!"

Boris "What, cheating right out in public? With some… feeble little stray like this."

Still holding the cat, Boris gave it a shake. The cat just let it happen.

Cat "Nii… nii…"

Boris "Looks as weak as it gets… It’d probably die even if left alone."

Boris "These others too… all cats I could kill without a second thought."

He glanced around, eyes sweeping the group of cats.

Cat "Meow!"

Cat "Meow meow!"

Cat "Meow meow meow!"

The cats all bolted at once.

Alice "Eh…"

They scattered in perfect unison, like frightened spiders.

Alice "…Boris, are you some kind of hated cat or something?"

Boris "No. I’m feared."

Boris "I’m a Cheshire Cat, remember? I’m not like the others."

Boris "I’m a strong cat. Every cat is afraid of me. See?"

Cat "Nii…"

Dangling helplessly in the air, the small cat looked completely defenseless.

It was being held up, so it couldn’t even run like the others.

Alice "Put it down. That’s just cruel."

Boris "It pisses me off. It’s so weak… and yet you pay attention to it. Even fed it…"

Boris "…Why are you always fussing over other cats? Do you like this weak little thing more than me?"

Boris "You feed them… live with them… You do all the things you won’t do for me."

Alice "…Do you want food?"

I asked, thinking no way he’d say "yes."

Boris "Yeah. I want you to feed me."

Alice "Not like making you a meal… you mean, feeding you? Like you’re a pet?"

Boris "I don’t care what you call it. If it means being tamed by you… I want you to feed me."

Boris said it so casually, without hesitation.

Alice "…………"

Alice "A cat…"

Boris "Huh? Yeah, I told you—I’m a cat."

Alice "…………"

He said it so confidently, I was left without a retort.

Boris "…Agh, it's your fault I’m hungry now. You feed all the other cats, but not me…"

Boris "…………"

Boris "…This one looks weak. Doesn’t it kind of look like a mouse?"

Alice "……!!!"

Alice "N-no! Don’t eat it!"

Boris "I’m not gonna eat it… Geez, don’t take it so seriously."

Boris "A cat doesn’t eat another cat. I’m a cat, so I won’t eat this one."

Alice "………… …I don’t think you’re a cat, Boris."

Boris "……?"

Alice "Cats are cute creatures. Boris, you’re not cute."

Boris "……!!!"

Boris’s eyes flew wide open in shock, and he gasped.

Alice "Boris, you're completely different from this kitten… or any other cat, really. I realized that again after petting a regular cat for the first time in a while—you’re nothing alike."

I never truly thought of him as an ordinary cat. He’s more like a human.

But being told over and over that he’s a cat had nudged my perception in that direction.

Sure, Boris is catlike. There’s a feline aspect to him. But still…

Alice "Boris, you’re not a cat. You don’t have the kind of cuteness cats have."

Boris "……!!! ~~~~~~~~~!!!!"

His not-so-cute, catlike face started to stiffen more and more.

Boris "S-So… does that mean I’ve failed as a cat!? That you can fawn over other cats but not me!?"

Alice "You’re cute, but… not in the catlike way, I guess."

Boris "So I’m worse than that thing? Is that why you won’t live with me or feed me!?"

Alice "Feeding… I mean, I do bring you food and cook for you sometimes, don’t I?"

Just a few time slots ago, we had a meal together. He said that hot egg soup, once cooled down, was delicious and ate it happily.

Boris "That wasn’t enough! Not even close! I want more!"

Alice "…Haah. Fine, I get it."

Alice "You want me to feed you like a cat, right?"

I offered him a dried fish.

Boris "!"

Boris lit up with joy and immediately chomped into it.

Boris "Ham…"

A cute gesture. Adorably catlike behavior.

Boris "Nn…"

He ate it slowly, as if licking at it.

The way he ate was exactly like the small cat from earlier. He licked his fingers with soft smacks, trying not to leave even a single piece behind.

Alice (thought) (…………)

Alice (thought) (…Yeah, he’s still different.)

Alice (thought) (Boris is different.)

He’s not just a cat. He may be a cat… but he’s something else entirely.

Alice (…Not cute.)

Boris "Give me more."

He licked his fingers.

Alice "There… there’s no more…"

I had already given the rest to the other cats. The one I gave to the cat in front of me was the last.

Alice (thought) (A cat…)

Alice (thought) (He’s a cat, but…)

Boris "…It was delicious."

His pink tongue licked his lips.

Alice (thought) (Ugh…)

Alice "…I’m glad you liked it. But there’s no more."

Boris "More…"

Alice "I said… there’s no more…"

Boris "I want more…"

He whispered in my ear.

For a cute cat’s begging, it carried an unusual force. His lips, still wet from licking his fingers, drew closer.

Alice "……"

Boris "I want more, Alice…"

That pink tongue licked me again. He kissed me.

Alice (thought) (Pink…)

There’s no other cat this pink. That’s why Boris is both a cat and not a cat.

He’s cute, but not cute. More than cute, he’s… pink.

Alice (thought) (Pink… A cute color, but… not cute.)

Boris "Alice."

That pink voice called to me.

Boris "Give me more food… Alice."

Alice "Boris…"

Boris "…Alice."

Cat "Ni—"

Alice "!?"

Boris "…!!!"

A sweet voice scattered the pink mood into mist.

Cat "Ni—"

Boris "…………"

Cat "Ni—ni—"

Alice "…………"

Boris "…………"

It was like… a young couple being interrupted by a crying baby. …A terrible comparison, but that’s exactly how it felt.

We both froze.

Cat "Ni—ni—"

Boris "…What. You want food too? You… you want more too?"

Cat "Ni—ni—ni—"

Boris "…………"

Boris "…Alice."

Boris "…If it’s not gonna eat… can I shoot it instead?"

Alice "No."

Scene Change – Clover Town – Shopping District

Boris "So you are taking it home in the end…"

On the way back. Boris was completely sulking.

In my arms was the small cat I brought from the gathering place. It was still thin, and I could feel it hadn’t been eating enough.

Alice "I couldn’t just leave it there. This little one would definitely be left out when it comes to food."

Alice "And I’ve got work, so I can’t be there to feed it all the time."

It’s hard for me to go feed it directly every day. If I keep it close, I can help.

Boris "But you won’t take me home. And now this guy you just met—you’re taking it home and planning to live together…"

Alice "…Don’t sulk."

Boris "Of course I’m sulking. How can I not? If I stop sulking, I might just shoot it, you know?"

Alice "No, you won’t! That’s not allowed!"

I snapped, and Boris let out a big sigh—“haaah.” It was like he was too shocked to even argue back.

Boris "You always say I’m fickle or whatever, but you’re pretty fickle yourself. Just when I think you’re back by my side, you drift off somewhere else again."

Boris "…Don’t make me feel so anxious."

Alice (…Hmph. Now he’s saying something all meek and tender…)

Is this some kind of “If anger doesn’t work, try acting pitiful” strategy? I don’t know if that’s even a real strategy, though.

Alice "I never meant to make you anxious."

Boris "But I am anxious. I’m your boyfriend, and yet you’re always thinking about and being nice to other cats."

He cast a resentful side glance at the cat in my arms.

Boris "…I wish your head was filled with only thoughts of me. Then I wouldn’t be constantly on edge like this."

Boris "I’m seriously a lost cause at this point…"

Alice "You don’t need to be so jealous. This isn’t what you think it is."

It’s not cheating. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—Boris is completely different from other cats.

Bringing this little cat home is not a betrayal.

Boris "I can’t help it. Ugh… I feel like I’m going crazy with jealousy…"

Boris roughly ran his hands through his own hair. Watching him so out of sorts reminded me of something he said not long ago…

When was that again…? Right—after we had that meal with the egg soup.

Flashback

Boris "I never imagined I’d fall for you like this."

Boris "Honestly, I feel so uncool right now… But it’s your fault, so take responsibility, okay?"

Boris "…I’ll take responsibility too."

Boris "It’s okay if I’m full of myself, right? To think you’re mine, and I’m yours?"

End Flashback

Alice (He didn’t seem to have much composure then either…)

He’s hopelessly in love with me. Lately, I’ve been feeling that even more than before.

Alice (…Maybe it’s time.)

Maybe it’s time I made up my mind.

Being with Boris is fun. I want to keep being with him.

I love Boris. I never thought I’d fall this hard.

We’re the same now. I’ve come to think the same way he does.

Alice (I’m probably going to be dragged all over the place, though…)

Alice "Boris, listen…"

Scene Change – Boris’s Room

Alice "I’ve decided to live with you, Boris."

Pierce "G-Good for you. W-Well, that’s great and all… but… but still…"

Pierce "Th-there are two cats now... The number of cats has doubled..."

Pierce "The cats... they've multiplied... Cats..."

Pierce was visibly trembling.

Alice "This little one is our new housemate too."

Alice "…Right, Boris?"

Boris "I'm not happy about it... A cat like this..."

True to his words, Boris looked displeased as he stared at the kitten. When their eyes met, he frowned in discomfort.

Alice "………"

Cats "Nii, nii."

Boris "…You're hungry? Want some fish?"

Boris "Well, I guess I don’t have a choice... You’re pretty weak, huh."

Grumbling, Boris fed the small cat with a sulky look.

Cats "Ni~i."

The cat was already fond of Boris.

He wasn’t the one being fed—he was the one doing the feeding. Despite his complaints, Boris was surprisingly caring.

Alice "What a heartwarming picture…"

Pierce "…What a terrifying picture… A feline dinner table…"

Pierce "This is horror… I can’t even look directly at it…"

While the scene was cute enough to make one want to keep watching, Pierce averted his eyes.

Pierce "…Hey, is that cat your child, Alice?"

Alice "Huh?"

Pierce "Your and Boris’s child? Boris is the dad and you're the mom...? Did you become a cat family?"

Alice "A cat family…"

A completely absurd idea—but the phrase cat family had a certain charm.

A cat dad. A cat mom. A cat child…

I’m human, and Boris isn’t a normal cat—he’s pink and all. But the kitten is a proper, ordinary cat.

There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense, but somehow, it still feels heartwarming.

Alice (A family, huh...)

(…That sounds nice.)

It felt like home.

A place of rest. Somewhere that always exists. Unbreakable bonds.

None of us had anything like that.

Not Boris, not me, not the small cat. We’re just strays brought together.

But together, it almost feels like a family.

Alice "Yeah... I suppose it’s like we adopted him."

Watching the two cats, I felt at peace.

Adorable creatures. Someone I love.

It was like the life I had once imagined. A house, someone I love smiling beside me, a life shared with cats.

I thought it would last forever. And now, even if the form is different, it’s right in front of me.

Cat "Nii, nii."

Boris "You’ve gotta toughen up, you hear me? Otherwise you’ll die…"

Cat "Nii, nii, ni~i."

Boris "You listening?"

Cat "Nii, nii, ni~i."

Boris "Take this seriously, will you?"

Cat "Nii, nii, ni~i."

Too distracted by food, the cat didn’t hear a word of Boris’s lecture.

Boris "You gotta eat a lot, get big, and get strong, got it? You need to learn how to fight for your food. How to catch mice and stuff…"

Boris really did sound like a proper dad.

Alice (So I’m the mom, huh…)

Alice "………"

Alice "…Maybe we should get even more cats. More adopted kids. We could become one big family."

Pierce "………"

Pierce "…Maybe I should run away from the forest too. I can’t take this. I just can’t handle a forest full of cats…"

Alice "…Oh, come on. There are only two right now. Just two… for now."

This is my home. And for now, we have two cats.

Alice "If we're going to be a cat family, then we need more members."

Boris "...Cat family? You want to add more?"

Boris "But I don’t want to share you with anyone else."

Cats "Nii, nii."

Boris "See, even this one says no. Cats are super possessive, you know? Right?"

Cats "Ni~i."

Boris "If we had kittens, then maybe adding more to the family would be nice... Oh, but wait. If we’re already a family, then it’s already three of us, right? Not two."

Alice "Huh? I don’t have any kids... I mean, probably not."

Boris "That’s not what I meant... I mean if we’re talking about a cat family, then you’re a cat too. So you count as one, right? That makes three in total."

Alice "…I’m a cat too?"

Boris "Yeah. In a cat family, that makes us a three-cat household."

Cats "Nii, nii.”

The little cat chimed in as if to agree.

Alice "…A family, huh."

Counted among them, that made me the third cat.

It was strange to be considered a cat… but if it meant being part of a family, it didn’t sound so bad.

Alice "…Alright, then I’m the third cat."

Pierce "...I’m running away from home."

The mouse didn’t get counted.

End Event

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 28: Leannan is Miserable

1401 words

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

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~~~

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.”

~~~

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