Yoru Was A Grumpy Guy. That Was A Fact Accepted By Everyone. You Were Already Used To See Him Rolling

Yoru was a grumpy guy. That was a fact accepted by everyone. You were already used to see him rolling his eyes or huffing in annoyance. It was part of his character and it amused you. But you soon discovered that Yoru was worse when he was sick.

"Told you to cover yourself better for that mission, silly," you sighed.

"Shut up." he coughed.

Sage had given you strict instructions to help taking care of him. The poor duellist caught a very nasty cold that pinned him to bed. He could not move without having striking muscular pain, he had a severe fever that made him sweaty and blushed his skin like you've never seen before and he had a sore throat that made his voice hoarse.

"You need to eat first before taking these medicines," you explained gently as you wiped the sweat off his forehead. "I brought you soup. Easy to swallow and warm for your throat."

He sat up, a grimace on his face, and winced when he reached for the bowl. You could read on his facial expression all the pain his body was putting him through.

"I can feed you if you want."

If you weren't used to his antics, the glare he shot you with would have killed you. He was about to throw a snarky remark but his throat interrupted him with a wet cough. Shrugging, you presented the spoon to his lips.

"Aaaah."

You were only amused by the offended look he had in his eyes. If anything, you were basking in the heat of his glower. What he would not admit, was that he was very grateful for your presence and help. You did not leave him alone, you took care of him and that was enough to make his cold heart melt.

"I'll draw you a bath, later," you murmured when he finally accepted the spoon in his mouth. "The warmth of the water should soothe your muscle pain."

Yoru was too prideful to admit out loud that your warmth was enough. Too prideful to admit that beneath his grumpy exterior, he was thankful to have you with him. He was already bathing in your care and he was silently grateful for that.

"Give them back."

You looked down from the ceiling beam you were sat on to see Percival's little frown that you found endearing.

"But you look so cute without them on, dearest." you chuckled to which he sighed.

Percival's irritated scowls were more visible without his glasses on and you were always the first one to admire them. His green eyes seemed to shine as he glared in your direction and your lips wanted to kiss the quiver of annoyance that animated his. You wanted to smoothe the crinkle between his brows. You wanted to caress the fair skin of his cheeks.

You loved when his face was so expressive. He was a piece of art that you wanted to keep for yourself and admire until the end of your days.

"I don't have time for your mischiefs," he groaned and started pacing under you.

"Well I do," you chuckled.

He stopped pacing with an annoyed huff, looked up at and froze. He saw badly without his glasses, but he could see your legs swaying above him and feel the intensity of your gaze on him. He could almost feel how your pulse quicken when your eyes met his. He felt like he was on the middle of the stage of a theatre and your eyes were the totality of the audience and the lighting. You had the unique talent to irritate him and to make him nervous.

"I can see your eyes better without your glasses on."

The awe and reverence in your tone rose goosebumps in the back of his neck and reddened his ears. Percival felt flustered under your eyes. Your pupils were relishing the sight of his breathing hitching.

"Please Percy, let me admire you."

i don't know if i'm just not looking in the right places but i can't find anywhere that says if you take request or not so i'm just curious if you do because you're writing is just so fucking yummy... it's like a three course meal

Thanks for the compliment, that's very sweet ^^

Honestly, I don't mind requests. But my brain is a picky eater : if a scenario doesn't make it shiver, it won't take it. My brain likes scenarios that make it travel or push it to create mini worlds it would enjoy exploring.

In other words, my brain is fussy, capricious and unashamedly selective. It would savor one scenario like a child would enjoy a dessert, but huff to another like some children in front of vegetables. And unfortunately for me, I am bound to work with its temper. If something doesn't please it, my fingers won't move.

I don't know if it is a curse or a blessing, to be honest.

The power of anonymity gifted by the internet in a nutshell.

Power doesn’t corrupt, it reveals. Give someone the ability to be who they’ve always wanted, and you’ll discover who they’ve always wanted to be.

Books were doors leading to other worlds to which the keys were hidden in the readers' mind. Deadlock knew that very well. That was why she used books as an escapism. Works of horrific fiction were her favorite. After numerous missions, she ended up numbed. She lacked sensations. Sensations that she missed and found in horror novels. Novels that she sometimes shared with Iso who also lacked the feeling of adrenaline.

When she needed a new novel, she came to you. You were her book supplier. Your dorm room literally looked like a bookshop. You had among your shelves different types of book to which one could find the most disgusting, deranged, horrific, unhinged and skin crawling stories humanity could find. Even Fade bowed her head to the nightmares sealed among the pages. Even someone as stoic as Iso grimaced to some books you lent him.

In need of a new reading, she knocked on your door and you invited her in.

"So," you kneeled down towards your lower shelf. "How did you find your reading ?"

Deadlock put down the novel you leant her on your desk. Her eyes landed on an open notebook.

"Where on earth did you find that novel ?" she asked.

"You're always asking the same question." you chuckled. "Aren't you tired of repeating yourself ?"

When you turned towards her with a new book, you froze. She had one of your notebooks in her hand and was flipping through the pages.

"Give it back—"

"You're writing ?" she interrupted you.

You snatched the notebook from her grasp and sighed.

"It's just a draft," you shook your head. "It's...it's not ready, yet."

Deadlock raised an eyebrow and sat on your bed.

"I came here for a very specific kind of reading and my gut is telling me that you have exactly what I need." she pointed at the notebook in your hand.

She was also curious. What nightmarish world did you put onto paper ? How would she feel if she could wander in it ?

"It is a draft, Deadlock." you repeated with a sigh.

"A draft is destined to be read anyway," she shrugged. "If you don't want me to read it, you could read it to me."

You looked at her, then back at your notebook. Deadlock's eyes travelled on the other drafts on your desk. You already possessed so many books, so many inspirations. What could you possibly be writing down ? What did you already write ?

"Okay," you finally accepted. "I hope you didn't eat."

You sat down beside her and opened the first pages. You took a deep breath. Deadlock got comfortable on your bed and looked at you, eager to hear your draft.

" ‘Once upon a time, the Netherworld falling from the sky...’ "