#than this. like i’m not buying it until i get the hacking cough and have my apocalyptic fever dreams in which someone is cutting off my leg

[fingertipsmp3]

Literally what does this headache want from me. I’ve hydrated, I’ve taken 3 different types of pills, I fell asleep on my couch for 45 minutes… why do I still feel this way

[nikoadari]

A Little Too Fast

Trigger Warning: alluding to abusive relationships, flashback to abuse

When Clara heard the notification buzz of a text on her phone she sighed, put down her book, and went to retrieve the reusable grocery bags from the kitchen cabinet. If she had to leave her flat to meet her friend, she might as well do her weekly shopping.

She checked the mirror before she left, carefully rounding out her afro and lightly adjusting the loose sleeves of her white kaftan. Her sepia sandals were only slightly darker than her lipstick, and it shone prettily on her clear, hickory brown skin. She allowed herself a light smile at her appearance. She looked good. As usual.

These days, Clara thanked God every time she walked outside for having a car with a working air conditioner. As she drove, she could see a few passersby outside, all trying to find some shade not made by a cement block building.

As pitiful as it looked, Clara had to shake her head at their poor judgement. While they fanned themselves with magazines and fumbled for sunglasses, almost everyone she saw had chosen tight clothes that showed skin red and burned. After about a decade of summers like these, she thought it was about time white people in the city learned to dress for the heat.

“Foolishness,” she muttered to herself. She parked outside the little smoothie shop Robin wanted to meet at and walked inside to order and wait. The place smelled of chlorine and chemicals, and Clara immediately took a large gulp from her water bottle. She was definitely picking the next place for them to hang out.

Robin came in a few minutes later, breathless and clearly having walked there. Her bejeweled sunglasses flashed from fluorescent lights and her loosely curled hair was slightly damp from sweat. Clara looked approvingly at the loose shorts and flowy blouse she wore but could only sigh as the woman went through one debit and two credit cards before finally being able to buy her own smoothie from the vendor.

Once she had her drink in hand, Robin found Clara easily and rushed over to sit down with her grinning friend.

“Trouble in paradise?” Clara asked, still grinning.

“I’ll get it sorted out on Monday, don’t at me.”

Clara blinked and took a few moments to sort through her mental slang dictionary before making a note to look it up later and moving on. “You had a favor to ask me?”

Robin tried to answer while still slurping her smoothie and ended up hacking and coughing. Clara handed her a napkin with a sympathetic look and waited for her to clear her airways before repeating the question.

“Yes!” Robin leaned forward and Clara made a conscious effort not to lean back. With her sunglasses no longer covering her eyes, Robin’s intense staring was almost intimidating.

“It’s a matter of utmost importance, Clara. I need you…” She paused for dramatic effect. “…to help me go ring shopping for Jessie. I’m planning to propose to her!”

She waited for a moment, nearly trembling in excitement, for Clara’s reaction. Clara was…well, she was more confused than anything else. The calendars hanging in nearly every room of her flat told her it was the fifth of August aka ten days until Clara and Jessie’s six-month anniversary. She knew this because the date was circled on each of her calendars, along with the time set on her phone so that she didn’t have to think too quickly on her feet when Clara inevitably asked her for help with an anniversary gift last minute.

She knew she’d waited too long to respond when Robin began to deflate and lean back.

“Congratulations?” she tried, but it was already too late. Robin bit her lip.

“…You aren’t happy about it?” she asked, clearly upset. Clara sighed and took her second sip from her smoothie to buy time before recoiling. God, this drink was terrible. She sighed again, refusing to let her annoyance show on her face.

“It’s not like that, Robin. I’m just surprised. I think you’re a great couple, and from what I know of Jessie, she’s a great partner to you and you to her. It’s just…as your friend, don’t you think you’re going a little fast?”

“No, I don’t.” Her response was immediate and frustrated, and Clara put a hand on Robin’s over the table before the argument she sensed was brewing exploded in a public restaurant. It worked, and Robin’s next words came slowly.

“Usually I would be bored by now, wanna bail, move on to the next thing. But not with Jessie. I love her so much; she brings out the best in me! She’s always supporting my dreams and listens no matter how long I ramble, and I really feel like I’m home with her. Like I have someone who understands me completely. Jessie’s just…I really feel like she’s the one, you know?”

Her eyes were wide and honest, and Clara nodded. She wholeheartedly believed Robin felt that way; the blonde was a terrible liar.

“I know. It’s just that…a marriage is meant to be a life-long thing, hon. Most relationships, not even necessarily romantic, just most relationships in general, don’t last that long. And people change a lot from year to year, decade to decade. Are you saying you’re certain that you’ll love her and that she’ll love you the same through all of that? You’ve known her for eight months total, not even a full year, and dated her for seventy-five percent of that. How can you be sure you know who she is through everything?”

“Ohhh, Clara, I get it now.” Robin relaxed back into her chair with a soft sigh and Clara braced herself. That was never a good sign.

“It’s okay! You wouldn’t understand, I guess. We’re lesbians, y’know? Lesbian dating isn’t the same as hetero dating. We hit the ground running when it comes to love.”

Wow. That…was worse than she’d been expecting. She retracted her hand and placed it in her lap, frowning as she thought of what to say.

“I understand very well that some lesbians, and some people who are not lesbians, ‘hit the ground running,’ as you say. I don’t think it’s wise, or safe for the heart or mental health of those who do it. Listen, I can’t help you with picking an engagement ring. I wish I could support and be part of the planning like that, but I can’t. I do wish you two a happy life together, though.”

She made to leave, but Robin seized her wrist before she could get out of her seat.

“Wait! What about–”

A light-skinned woman appeared in Clara’s mind, short and pretty. Sweet when she was calm, a raging demon when she was angry, one that lashed out both verbally and physically, always starting with a hand yanking Clara closer so she could–

“Let go of my wrist, Robin,” Clara hissed. Her voice was icy, but she didn’t realize how much until she saw Robin’s expression. The blonde let go immediately and mumbled, “Sorry” almost too quietly to hear. Clara tried to take a steadying breath and considered leaving then and there – Robin knew how she felt about being grabbed out of the blue like that – but the thought of letting things end on such a sour note hurt something deep inside her. She had been friends with Robin for years, after all, ever since college. She could at least hear her out. She was fine.

With an angry sigh, she took her seat again and gestured for Robin to continue. The woman fiddled with her fingers for a few moments before saying anything, but when she did Clara had to close her eyes to calm herself.

“I get that you don’t support the wedding, but why can’t you just support me, Clara? I’m in love! I was going to make you one of my bridesmaids! You’re my friend; you’re supposed to want to help me!”

“First of all,” Clara said coolly. “I’ve spent the last five years helping you, in nearly every sense of the word. I have spent energy and money and time I could have spent doing anything else letting you cry on my shoulder, giving you advice, buying your groceries and paying for your gas. You slept on my couch for three months paying for nothing but the clothes you filled your suitcases with. And I’ve helped you in every relationship you’ve been playing at, including this latest one, far more than anyone should reasonably expect, Robin. You cannot and will not pull that card now.”

“I–”

“Let’s be honest here. You don’t know much about her. We’ve been friends four times as long and you don’t even know that much about me. Have you ever seen me get angry about anything? And I mean truly angry, not just irritated or annoyed.”

Clara huffed but thought about it for a while. After a minute, she shrugged with one shoulder. “When that creep at the bar tried to touch your ass, you were pissed,” she said. Clara grimaced at the crass language and shook her head.

“I was definitely upset at that, yes, but not truly angry. If I had been, I would have either smashed a glass on his face or strangled him.” She watched Clara’s expression morph.

“This illustrates my point perfectly, though. You have never, in five years of friendship, seen me that way. Not even once. You’re confused – you think that would be out of character for me. You don’t know how I am when I’m confronted with something that makes me truly angry. Don’t you think knowing I could try to strangle someone to death, and in what circumstances that would happen, is just a little bit important when deciding if you wanted to marry me? When deciding if you intimately knew who I was as a person?

“What about other emotions, or other circumstances, not with me, but with Jessie? Don’t you think knowing her that way – knowing her in every way – is just a tad bit important before deciding you want to be partners with someone in life forever?”

As her voice died she realized she’d been too loud. She heard the other patrons whispering and closed her eyes, embarrassed and angry and refusing to look at anyone.

“Come on,” she said softly to Robin, standing up. Robin followed, leaving both their unfinished smoothies behind, a dumbfounded expression on her face. They ended up in the hot sun again and Clara went immediately to her car, back as straight as a rod as she tried not to explode.

“Come on!” she snapped. She caught herself and let out a big puff of air before saying more quietly, “Let’s go.”

Robin hesitated, grumbling something rude and inaudible before flopping into the passenger seat, arms and legs crossed. The ride was quiet at first. Robin tugged and twirled her hair around a finger, the way she usually did when she was upset and thinking, but Clara didn’t say anything. After a few minutes, Robin broke.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know all those things, but I don’t see why it matters. I know I love her. She treats me right and we’re happy together. I don’t have to see her mad to know that.”

Clara shook her head and sighed through her nose.

“If you don’t see why knowing this person as a full individual before you propose is important, that’s your business. I’m just saying I can’t participate. I won’t go to the wedding, I won’t help plan the wedding, I won’t help you find your ring, none of it. Don’t ask me for a gift or anything, either. I’m just….”

She realized she was gripping the wheel so hard that her hands hurt. She loosened them and sighed again.

“I’ll just wish you two happiness, okay? Good luck with your proposal.”

The ride was silent after that.

Clara drove Robin all the way to her apartment across town. She parked in front of the tall building and waited for her friend to get out, but she stayed there for a few moments, just looking down at her crossed arms. Clara waited, expecting a last bid for her to be in the wedding or a question about their friendship or even a snarky comment about not caring about Robin’s feelings. That’s how their arguments tended to end.

But not this time. After ten minutes of letting the car run, Clara had run out of patience.

“If you aren’t going to say anything, go home, Robin.” She sounded defeated even to her own ears, but at least it got the blonde out. Clara watched her walk away, but not once did Robin turn back to look at her. It made her feel petty, but Clara felt a glimmer of relief that she had resisted the impulse to buy her that smoothie.

Clara waited for a while longer, not even sure what she was waiting for, before driving home. In her rear-view mirror, she could see the grocery bags waiting for her in the backseat. She wasn’t lazy for ignoring the groceries, she just…she needed a minute.

When she got inside, she took off her shoes and put her things away. The world was beginning to gray out at the edges, and she pounded on her vagus nerve, hoping to calm herself down before the stress really hit her.

“It’s okay,” she breathed to herself. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t working.

She hurried to the clear, plastic rod of the living room shades, and the shafts of light narrowed, darkening the room like a movie theatre. She consciously unclenched her jaw, lifted her eyebrows before letting them rest in their normal position on her face, uncurled her fists and let them hang at her sides. She breathed in the air of her only safe space, letting the scents of rosemary and lavender fill her lungs and – hopefully – calm her. It was quiet. It was dark. She was okay.

She wasn’t.

Okay, then. She got out her cleaning supplies, her mouth set in a grim line of determination. Her stomach felt jittery, and in between sweeping and folding laundry and cleaning windows, she paced. Any moment without movement made her feel like she was on the verge of panic. She let a fun soundtrack play throughout the house, but none of the songs sounded right.

Now her stomach was nearly in knots. She tried to dance and immediately stubbed a toe. She thought about calling other friends or her parents, even her brother, but the thought of someone seeing or hearing her like this filled her with so much shame that her eyes began to water. Her emotions were usually quite intense, but this was extreme. She had “broken up,” so to speak, with good friends before but it had never felt like this. What was going on?

She eventually ended up just lying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. There was a headache pounding away just behind her left eye, her leg itched, and she was too hot. She was thirsty. She was hungry.

She sat up so fast it nearly gave her whiplash. Her stomach swirled.

“This is ridiculous!” she shouted. “This is so stupid! She was the one who wanted to do something dumb! She asked me why I didn’t want to help and I was honest! I shouldn’t be the one feeling like this!”

She knew it was true, but at the end of her rant, she didn’t feel any different. She punched her sheets angrily before grabbing her phone and searching for activities to distract herself. Nothing outside. Not only was it too hot, it was also too bright, and there were too many people. She could still feel the eyes from the other customers at the juice bar. She angrily flicked through the results on her phone.

No friends, either. The idea didn’t bring her to tears anymore but it still made her feel sick inside. The thought of opening her book made her want to burn a library down and the idea of watching television made her consider, just for a moment, punching a hole through her computer screen….

Clara frowned. She knew this feeling, she realized. This restless, painful, and above all annoying frustration that would course through her. She couldn’t do anything but let the emotions run their course through her body. It was a good thing she had so many sick days saved up; she would be exhausted tomorrow. The last time she’d felt like this was after she broke up with Savannah. Wait.

“Oh, my God!” she yelled. She went into her text messages and blocked Robin’s number. Social media was next. Instagram: blocked. Facebook: blocked. Twitter: oh, she’d already deleted that app a while ago. Email: blocked! She didn’t let herself think about it. If she thought, she would begin to doubt, and if she doubted, she would cave, just like she always had. Just like Robin always counted on her doing.

Clara leaned back on her pillows, wondering if deleting the messages between them would be next, but she decided not to at the last moment. She might need them later, after all, when looking for clues in how this had all started.

Clara checked the phone’s clock and groaned. It was barely past three in the afternoon. She’d just have to go about the rest of her day like this, then. She dragged herself from the bed and fetched the whiteout from her work drawer, crossing out each plan made with and for Robin.

It was odd to consider why this was happening. Clara and Robin had never dated. There had never been any romantic feelings between them, not in the five years they had known each other. But leaving Robin and leaving her ex…it felt the same.

It would be okay, she decided. She felt terrible right now, and she would for a while, she was sure. But she had done this before, and she would do it again. Tomorrow, she would call her family and tell them that she was cutting Robin off. They would fuss, and her mother might even drive all the way here from New Mexico, and that would be fine. She would take what strength she could from them, let them support her through her initial stages of grief.

In a week, she’d tell her friends. They would have varied reactions, and that would be fine, too. This was the end of a relationship, not the end of her life. She would heal, and restart her gym membership, and aim for a promotion at work so that she could afford getting two pints of ice cream per week instead of one.

She would learn to be even more careful with who she invested time in again. She would learn to balance her life out again. She would learn happiness again. She always did.

[manjiroscum]

JASMINES

Character/s: haitani brothers

Warnings: f!reader, hints of sex, stepcest, fluff, bonten does not exist in this timeline, mature language, all characters are above 18+ as always, poly relationship, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: this is for bby aly @riszu 🥺💕 get well soon bby

Synopsis: Taking care of their sick little step-sister is what good brothers do.

WC: 1k

Rain, sunny, pouring rain, and another hot day was an assurance for one to feel unwell due to the constant change of the weather. Believing yourself to be healthy enough to avoid getting the usual colds that were going door to door in the neighborhood, you begrudgingly found yourself lying in bed, sick. Tissues up your runny nose that were drenched with snot that resembled the used condoms sitting in the bin next to your messy desk. A cool patch on your sweaty forehead that was far more uncomfortable than the aftermath of last night’s illicit activities. The regular agenda of heading to the university went down the drain since even the mere thought of making a letter of absence was making your head spin faster than your step-brothers could switch holes. It cemented your fate in staying in bed until you felt better.

Fuck my life.

Thinking back whether you caught the illness during the commute to work, the bedroom door slowly swung open to reveal a mop of purple hued hair cut short, still damp as a towel was hanging loosely on Ran’s shoulder while his own violet irises assessed your exhausted form. The shirt he wore was still unbuttoned while the tie he chose for today sat in his hands.

“You okay?”

“Does it look like I’m fucking okay to you?” you snapped before wincing at how your voice croaked in the end. Throat dry and itchy. Upon realization that you used a harsh tone to address your concerned step-brother, you sighed. “J-just leave me alone and go. No need to feel sorry for me.”

Already used to your cranky self whenever you were sick or your monthly visitor had arrived, your Ran lightly laughed as he made his way closer, sitting on the edge. His hand was cold against your head, touch so soothing that you were almost lulled back to sleep.

“Now why on earth would I leave my darling sister alone while she’s sick, mhm?” Ran softly chuckled, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms across his chest. Those limpid eyes raking your pathetic form. Silently deciding whether he should go to work or stay behind to take care of you. “At least you’re not acting stupid like Rin who still went to class when he could barely stand and was hacking his chest.”

“Fucking heard that, ‘ya know,” Rindou huffed, making his presence known. The ends of his lilac hair tied back while his bangs were clipped back. The furrow of his brows lessened at the sight of you, one quick to rise in question. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s got a cold.”

“Yeah?” At the information, Rindou sighed and trudged to your bed. He ignored your protests when he had you move to make more room for his huge stature. “Then why are you rushing around? We had sex last night, she’s now sick so that means it won’t take long before we also start coughing like it’s New Years. Fuck work, I wanna lay down.” Muscled arms wound their way around you, pulling you close to Rindou’s warm chest that had you groaning. “What? Don’t want cuddles from me now, angel?”

“But Rin, it’s already hot—”

“Nonsense.” Nuzzling his chin on the spot between your neck and shoulder, Rindou’s lazy violets met Ran’s annoyed ones. They may not have spoken during the bit where you were whining at the sudden act of affection—one that you were secretly happy for—but it was evident both of them were at conflict on whether who should go out and buy medicine. Sadly for Ran, his younger brother was quick to latch onto you and he’d be heartless to pry you both away. Still, going out of the comforts of the apartment and being out in the rain did not sit well with him. But what choice does he have? “Let’s just stay in bed, yeah? Ran could go buy our medicine, won’t he?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Bending down to press a kiss onto your forehead, Ran smiled down at you. The sight of it had your heart pounding in its ribcage and making your flushed skin even more hot as if he was touching you intimately under broad daylight. “Will be back in a few, ‘kay? If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Rin.”

One nod was all you gave, giggling at Ran side eyeing his brother prior to his exit. Rindou huffed lightly at the action then grinned at you, his left hand caressing your thigh and drawing abstract shapes on the flesh. “Sleep, angel. Don’t let me distract or prevent you from resting. I’ll just be here, ‘kay? Gonna wake you up once Ran’s back.”

Relaxing in his hold, you breathe in the familiar soothing scent of fabric softener and hummed. “You sure you’ll stay at home? I know how having perfect attendance means to you…”

“Nah.” Shaking his head, Rindou’s embrace slightly tightened. “Taking care of you is a priority. Plus, Ran and I did a number on you last night that I thought you got sick because of that—this is the least we can do.”

Snorting at the statement, you stared at the window across you. Raindrops on the glass, the sound of pitter patter a sort of lullaby to have your eyelids fluttering shut. And sleep, you did. In the protective arms of your step-brother who was better company than anyone whom you dated. Wrong it may be, but you didn’t have the strength to tackle or question your relationship with the brothers right now. Probably you never will, enjoying their presence enough not to. And really, they were good to you.

Really good.

Rindou waking you up by pressing kisses all over your face while Ran enters your room with a bouquet of jasmines was proof of that. The sweet scent of the flowers alleviated the weariness off of you momentarily. A bag filled with medicine and other essential stuff placed on the nightstand. Yes, your step-brothers indeed knew how to keep you satisfied.

🎐taglist: @ranilingus @wakaslut @festive @marism @wakasa-wifey @zuuki @stffychn @keijisprettygirl @cryptred @tobidabio @leavemealonebutinpink @blueparadis @kamisoria @h-shibas @chloee0x0

[yoichichi]

HQ boys with a sick s/o HC

warning(s): none :)

a/n: my poor ❣️ anon is sick and these were inspired by our last convo, I hope you’re feeling better Angel 😭 please enjoy some hq dummies and how theyd treat a sick s/o :) <3

characters: Tsukishima, Hinata, Sugawara, Daichi, Noya, Aran, Kita, Bokuto, Kenma, Ushijima, & Aone

Tsukishima

He would act bothered at the fact you’re sick, cause of course you’re gonna ask your boyfriend for things - like any notes you might’ve missed that day. But judging how he just does your homework for you you’re pretty sure he’s not actually mad.

He’d also be bugging you about taking your medicine cause he needs you to get better fast so he isn’t “stuck bullying only Hinata”, he misses picking on you too and he says it’s funner in person

He’s kind of worried about getting sick himself so he wouldn’t see you in person much but you definitely notice how frequent he’s starting to call you, he even FaceTimed you while he was at the grocery store cause you weren’t there with him to pick out your snacks. (He knows your favs at this point, he just missed your company)

The moment you’re better and he has a chance to see you he’s a bit more physically affectionate than normal - not that either of you are complaining - he missed you very much :(

Daichi

His hearts in the right place - like he’s brought some cough drops and water and such and has this whole plan for you to get better but the moment you sneeze a little too hard he’s so :((((( and just wants to hold you and coddle you.

So he does exactly that.

It can be a bit overbearing at first cause he’s VERY adamant on you not doing thing, like he’s debating on whether or not you should even be allowed to walk to the bathroom and if he should be carrying you there instead.

Rather than catch you up on anything you missed (he’ll bother suga about it later) he’d prefers snuggling in and napping the day away with you and just hopes you’ll magically get better.

Hinata

The overly worried type who’s also somehow simultaneously oblivious.

He’s CONSTANTLY checking in like are you better yet? Can you stand? Have you been throwing up all day? Is your temp still too high?? Please call me if you need anything :((((

But then he comes over with his volleyball and is all raring to go on some walk with you cause he found this awesome little trail that has some cute clearing he thinks you’d love but he seems to have forgotten you’re kind of currently bedridden.

You tell him and almost feel bad cause you can see the disappointment on his face and the way his body kind of deflates, but then all of a sudden he’s cheering back up cause he realizes that means he gets to lay with you basically all day and love up on you (regardless of your protests telling him he’d get sick too - which he definitely does)

Sugawara

I hope you wanted some tough love :(

Don’t get me wrong, he’s all about taking care of his baby but don’t think you’re gonna be milking any extra pity out of him 😭

He’s bringing you all the right medicine and extra love and any snacks you need, but he’s also bringing any schoolwork you might be missing and he’s reminding you of those deadlines.

He makes up for it with the extra study guides he made you so you can understand the material easier, and the cute little drawings he puts in the margins to better explain the material

He feels awful for his sick baby but isn’t gonna let you fall behind <3

Noya

Really believes in the whole laughter is the best medicine type shit. He’d also be looking up all different kinds of ways to make you better if he felt like you weren’t having a speedy recovery AHSJSJAJS

“I don’t know babe I’m jus sayin, this here says that if you drink raw egg whites and vinegar it’s a good immune system boost and will cure your flu in, like, 15 minutes. It might be worth a shot!”

Baby boy just misses going on dates with you 😭

Also tends to go overboard sometimes with the movies - last time you were sick he brought a whole cardboard box full of random dvds he had lying around as well as a couple of home videos of him as a child ‘cause:

“I’m hilarious babe look at these!”

Aran

Literally one of the best boyfriends you could ask for in this situation are you joking? He never hovers too much but is always just a phone call away if you need some help or are just feeling too lonely :( KING of making soups are you joking (firm believer that warm foods are the best thing when you’re ill) he definitely texts you random things throughout the day like

“how’s my baby doing?”

Or

“u feeling ok enough for me to stop by later ?❤️”

Expect LOTS of forehead kisses too

Also tends to hold the back of his hands to your face a lot so he can check your temp throughout the day, a true caregiver :,(

Kita

Ok him and Aran are tied cause this man 😪

The moment he finds out you’re sick he’s gotta know what kind of bug you caught cause he will be bringing you medicine the moment he can and he needs to be sure he’s getting the right kind. Also the type to buy you some silly little card that his grandmother INSISTED on signing (she’s very worried about you) and who is he to say no to that.

He also would hate to admit this to you but he thinks you’re so cute when you’re sick 😭 it doesn’t matter if you’re hacking up yesterday’s lunch he’s like 🥺🤲🏼 my poor little baby

He also just really likes taking care of you, definitely fits into his love language and it just feels very domestic for him to be by your side and aiding you in any way you can, and this mf is the biggest fan of the domestic things in your relationship <3

Bokuto

Honestly a little excited cause he gets to spend some uninterrupted alone time with you

Like don’t get me wrong he’s sad your sick but he can’t help but think to himself omg I get to spend the whole day with my baby! Just me and them!

Really helpful though, like you almost forget you’re sick. He’s making you food if you can’t do it yourself and he’s making sure you’re taking your medicine at the right times all while just chilling and talking with you in between! You guys watch some awful movies and laugh at them and it almost feels like a good ol date night in with your boyfriend if your body wasn’t so fatigued and sore from being sick. But don’t worry, cause Bokuto is there and ready to rub those sore muscles at any given moment.

Kenma

He just kind of shows up? Unannounced?

He has a weeks worth of stuff packed as well as a game console and a sack full of games LMAO and he just sets them down and gives you a kiss on the forehead and just ,, starts,, unpacking. You have to ask him what he’s doing cause he’s just not saying anything.

“You’re sick, so I’m staying over to take care of you until you feel better, duh. Now which side of the bed do you prefer?”

This man is casually waiting on your every need like your thirsty? Lay tf down he’s getting it for you. Hungry? Funny, he already ordered in. You’re his mf princess and you’re sick so you will not be moving a muscle.

Ushijima

MASSAGES. Massages. And cuddles :(((

Big man Ushi comes over when he has the chance with some painkillers and his big warm arms. Most of the time he’s over you guys are just napping cause he wants to hold you! Cause you look so helpless and sick and of course you guys are laying down so you guys just kind of pass out.

Also a big check in texter to see if you’re feeling up for him to be over later that day.

If you are too worried about getting him sick he’ll stay home but he’ll be kind of grumpy about it. You’d get a random FaceTime from him just for him to move his phone away from his body enough to emphasize how empty his bed is 🙄

You cave and let him come over, and when he does he just huffs and crawls into bed with you like ☹️ c’mere

Aone

Omg the biggest worrier of all of them :((((

The one most likely to say he’s sick too so he can free any responsibilities of the day just so he can come take care of you in person. Something about the idea of you being home alone and sick with no one there to make sure you’re ok hurts his heart so bad.

He also would forget to let you know he’s coming over though, so when he comes into your apartment with his copy of the key and finds you under a heap of covers with a tissue box on your nightstand he’s quickly getting under the covers with you and pulling you into his chest.

You wake up an hour or two later to feel big warm arms embracing you and you know your sweet boyfriend came over just to check on you. And judging by his heavy breaths signaling he was asleep you knew he had to have been here for a while <3

———————

ugh it’s been too long since I’ve written for hq! I hope you guys enjoyed and I always love to hear your thoughts :) <3

requests are open

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @sweet-darling91 (if you’d like to be added to hq, aot, mha, or a combination of those lemme know!)

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

POV: You Got Wayyy Too High

Warnings: Drug use (weed lol)

Aizawa Shouta/ Eraserhead

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked Aizawa as he plopped his bag at the door. You were trying to smoke weed from a pipe, but instead of lighting the actual herb, you were trying to heat it up from the bottom of the pipe.

You’d never smoked weed, but wanted to try it and bought the supplies from a local smoke shop, as well as buying some good stuff from your friend.

Unfortunetly, you also didn’t bother to look up how to actually use a pipe, instead just relying on knowledge you gained from drug documentaries.

This meant that you only knew how people heated up heroin with a flame under the spoon, which meant that surely you could do the same with weed.

“No, no, no, no. Stop that,” he ordered. You were his age, but nonetheless still buckled under his stern tone.

“Look, do you need me to show you how to do it?” he asked, gently taking the glass pipe from your hand. You nodded.

“Watch carefully,” he ordered, as he properly lit up the herb as he inhaled the smoke. He then passed it to you, watching you carefully to make sure you were doing it right. Soon, you got the hang of it.

Even sooner, though, you were a coughing mess.

“Calm it down, there. Don’t take huge puffs. You’re not impressing anyone here, y/n,” he scolded, taking another puff. He did it effortlessly, as if he’d done it for years. (He has.)

You wanted to impress him, though, even though he seemed to not care what you did. You just wanted to prove to him that you were ~cool~.

Well, this ended up in you looking very... uncool.

While Aizawa was chilling with a pretty decent high, you were laid across the bed, starfish style, blasting music in your ears. You were honestly vibing though, so Aizawa didn’t mess with you. For now.

The next day, he definitely teased you a little bit about how totally out of it you were, and how you listened to the same song on loop for 3 hours.

“How did you know that?” You asked, cocking a brow.

“Uh, because your headphones weren’t plugged in?”

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might

He was smoking when you came home, and though he tried to hide it, you smelled it. He acted as if he was just caught as a 17 year old in his mom’s house.

“Uh, no, it’s nothing! I...I don’t do anything like that!” He insisted.

“Toshi, come on. I can smell it,” you smiled. He covered his face.

“Please, please, keep this between you and I...I only do it because it helps with the pain and-”

You cut him off, “ I dont care why you do it, just lemme have some already!” 

Of course, you were just teasing him, and he knew that, but he couldn’t help but ask, “...You smoke?”

You shook your head playfully.

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to try some, though!” 

He passed it to you, and you took a way-too-long drag. Instantly, you were doubled over, coughing and hacking your lungs out. 

He patted your back firmly.

“Since this is your first time, you’re gonna cough a little. Just try to take smaller puffs and take deep breaths. There you go.”

Once you recovered, and Yagi got his turn, he handed the joint back to you. It continued to be passed back and forth between you two until it was finally no longer than a centimeter. 

For a moment, you both just chilled out on the couch together, just vibing. That was until Toshinori noticed your goofy, dreamy facial expression. He chuckled to himself, but that was all you needed to become hysterical, laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe. Seeing you laugh so much of course made Toshi a mess as well, which only added to your decent into utter madness.

Eventually, though, you both calmed down, and Toshi excused himself so that he could go take a quick bath. He often did this whenever he smoked, so that the warm water could aid even more in soothing his aching muscles and creaky bones.

So you were left alone. Totally unattended. At first, everything was totally fine.

However, as you started to actually feel the effects of the herb, you began to panic.

Is this normal? Does everyone else feel like this when they smoke? Oh God, this isn’t right...oh fuck, I’m gonna be the first dumbass to OD on THC...fuck...

Thoughts whizzed past your brain, every single one making sure you knew how totally fucked you were.

Tears streamed silently down your cheeks as you counted your pulse with two fingers on your wrist, but you coulnd’t find a pulse.

oh fuck...i’m probably going to pass out any minute now...it’s all over...

Images of your final goodbyes to everyone you loved flashed just behind your eyes.

“How’re you holding up, pumpkin?” asked Toshi, coming back from the bath, in a robe and his golden hair still damp.

You looked at him, your eyes red and puffy.

“Toshi...I’m...I’m dying...I love you, okay?” you murmured. He would have laughed, all except he saw the genuine fear in your eyes. 

He sat down next to you, surrounding you with all of his lanky limbs. 

“You’re not dying, honey. What you’re feeling right now is totally normal, I promise. Take some nice, deep breaths for me. Come on. There you go. Good.”

He cradled you there for a good while, until he felt your tense muscles finally slacken, and your breathing evened out.

Toshi made a mental note to never let you smoke that much ever again, guilt pinching at his sides.

Fatgum/Taishiro Toyomitsu

You had taken an edible cookie from your friend. She told you it was just a small bit in there, just enough for you to feel something.

You decided to be modest, eating just half of the cookie. You didn’t notice any effects, and out of sheer boredom you decided to go ahead and eat the rest of it. No harm in that, right?

Well, an hour later, it kicked in. You were expecting to feel something interesting, but you definately weren’t expecting anything like this at all. 

Everything seemed so far away. Even your breathing sounded like it was coming down a long corridor and echoing to your ears. You could feel your soul swimming in your body. 

Fatgum, who you lived with, luckily finished his hero duties early, and walked into the house joyfully as usual.  He called out your name. You didn’t reply.

His large footsteps could be heard, but you were too busy thinking about how weird breathing sounds to notice. 

Fatgum soon found you collapsed on the bathroom floor, face pressed against the cool tile.

Immediately, he propped you up against the wall, looking into your eyes with great concern.

“What did you take? Y/n, look at me. What did you take?” 

You lazily looked at him, your face completely serious. As serious as it could be, anyway.

“...i...it was...edible...” you mumbled out. As soon as he understood, he was laughing hysterically.

“s..stop...s not funny...” you grumbled, punching him in the gut. 

“Alright, alright... let’s get you into bed. You’ll feel much better once you wake up,” he smiled, picking you up and bringing you into the bedroom. 

You quickly were comforted by the warm, heavy comforter. Fatgum took a moment to look at you in your groggy state, trying his best to hold back a laugh. It was so painfully obvious that you’d never done anything like this in your life. His only regret was not being around to witness your ascent into cloud 9.

Soon, though, you had drifted into dreamland.

Hizashi Yamada

You locked yourself in your bathroom, sneakily lighting up the joint you bought off of your friend. Your boyfriend was in his room, playing Fortnite or some shit, and frankly, you were embarrassed to smoke in front of him. You knew that he’d definately find something to roast you about, and he was relentless.

A couple minutes after you lit up, though, the door was basically busted down.

“HEY, HEY! You better be planning on sharing some of that!” yelled Hizashi, his hand already out and waiting. He still had his headset on, but you saw with relief that his mic was turned off. You passed it to him.

“Augh! Where the hell didja get this weak shit, y/n? Nah, this ain’t gonna cut it,” he complained, putting it out. 

“Hey! I got that from my friend, dude! What the hell?” you frowned. Before you could be too mad at the waste, though, Hizashi pulled out a small wooden box from under his bed. Opening it, he revealed his stash of entirely too much pot.

You covered your mouth, stifiling a laugh. How the fuck could you have not smelled it? 

Within five minutes, he’d rolled up a blunt, and was passing it to you, already lit. 

It was gone after a little over half an hour, and you could already feel the effects. Your eyes were dry, your stomach craving junk food, and your brain craving chill vibes.

He returned to his game, unbothered but his volume definately toned down about 5 notches. He was a lot more chill than you’d ever seen him act, ever.

You found your way into the kitchen.

Once his game was over, he met you in there. You were in front of the fridge, pulling out thing after thing. By the time he’d gotten to you, you had eaten half a jar of pickles, three pieces of cake (with your bare hands), drank a bunch of soda, and you were headed for the chips that were sitting idly on the top of the fridge.

“oh, God...what the fuck are ya up to, dude?” he groaned. He did not want to deal with this mess.

You grinned at him.  “I dunno, maan... look dude could you just get me these up here? please bro...” you giggled. He sighed dramatically, taking them.

However, instead of handing them over to you, with your dirty little fingers, he ate them.

“stoppp, bro, please lemme get some!” you pouted. He acted as if he couldn’t hear you, leaving the kitchen. You followed after him, kicking him in the shins. 

Still, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Hizashi, come on, maaannnn!” 

He laid himself on the bed, covering himself with blankets. He pulled out his phone, calling you.  “Y/n, I miss you so much, man. Come chill out!” he spoke into the phone, trying his best not to break the act. You were absolutely furious at this point, punching at him.

“I’m right here, you doughnut!!” you groaned.  Dramatically sighing, Hizashi frowned, “I really wish y/n was here to sesh with me...” all while still eating the chips. You jumped on top of him. 

Finally, you caught him off gaurd, grabbed the chips, and locked yourself back up in the bathroom. 

This time, though, he just left you be. 

[mizunetzu]

I just skipped school and binge read all of your fanfics- They’re really good gRRRRrrr 🥺🥺 Keep up the good work!! That being said- Can I request a fluffy Hawks x male reader where the reader has a cold and is stuck in bed and Hawks takes care of him? Thank you vv much!!!

HAHHAHA WHY IS ALL MY HAWKS REQUESTS ALWAYS FLUFF (I mean ur like my second one but it’s still flufF) (and not that this wasn’t fun to write cuz it was HAAHA I’m lowkey proud)

(Also gRRRRur so nice but GO TO SCHOOL >:( BARK BARKK BAEKR)

——————

Hawks x reader - The Sick Fic

⚠️warnings - it’s as the title says. It’s the sick fic.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

(Y/n) coughed up sticky red blood.

“Y-yeah, no. I don’t think I can patrol today, Yusha-san. The villain from yesterday activated their quirk on me-and I’m feeling a bit sick.”

Yusha, the secretary to the (L/n) hero agency, typed something down on his computer. “Is it something we should be concerned about?”

“No.” (Y/n) croaked out with a chuckle. “Their quirk isn’t really dangerous, but it did make me a bit sick. It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“Ok. I’ll send in one of your sidekicks to patrol with Hawks-san today.” More typing from across the phone. (Y/n) pursed his lips.

“U-uh,”

“Don’t worry. I’m sending a male sidekick.” Yusha practically read his mind. (Y/n) didn’t want any stupid girls hitting on his stupid, popular, pro-hero patrol buddy boyfriend.

“Thank you, Yusha-san.”

“It’s nothing. Get some rest, (H/n). We expect you to show up tomorrow.” Yusha ended up before (Y/n) could even say goodbye. He lazily dropped his phone onto his bedside table, burying himself under his bedsheets as best as he could. Just as he was getting comfy, the urge to cough up more blood kicked him in the stomach.

He flung himself over his bed, practically shoving his head into the small waste bin under his bedside table. He wiped his mouth with his forearm after hacking up more blood, his head suddenly feeling hazy and jumbled.

He groaned, and got under the bedsheets once more. The world seemed to be against him today, as another distraction forced him out from his beauty sleep.

His phone buzzed once. Twice. Then the annoying, overlapping ring of multiple messages being spammed buzzed out his phone, making (Y/n) cover his ears with his pillow.

Annoyed, he patted around the side table til’ his hand landed on his phone, pulling it towards him and under the sheets.

‘Keigo 🍗 - where r u :(‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - who’s this...rando dude patrolling wit me :(((‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - r u asleep or smth’

‘Keigo 🍗 - wake up ur late to patrol and I need my yakitori addiction funded today’

‘Keigo 🍗 - DUDE’

‘Keigo 🍗 - BBBBBBBBBB’

‘Keigo 🍗 - IM NOT GONNA STOP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWER ME OR SHOW UP AN PATROL WITH ME >:(((‘

(Y/n) sighed. He opened the messages, meaning that Keigo would get the ‘message read’ notification, but he couldn’t care less. Tossing the phone lazily on the table, he muted the messages app.

———

(Y/n) stirred in his sleep when he heard tapping on his bedroom window. (Y/n) opened his sticky eyes, barely open enough to see a blurry red object tapping against the glass frame. Eventually, the object halted, gave up, and swooped down and out of sight. He shrugged.

Just as he closed his eyes, more pelting came from the window, this time louder and heavier. (Y/n) snapped his eyes open, flinging himself out of bed, and getting ready to activate his quirk.

He visibly relaxed when he saw the huge red wings tapping outside the window, with a certain hero crouching down, looking at him sheepishly and trying to pick open the window lock. The man waved with an embarrassed smile, his feathers following suit.

“Keigo Takami. What the fuck are you doing in my house.”

The man, Keigo Takami, chuckled awkwardly while (y/n) undid the clasps on his window. He stepped back, allowing him to worm his way in through the small window.

Keigo paused, half way squeezed in with his wings stuck in the cramped window frame. He was stuck. “Y...you need to buy a bigger window-“

“Are you dumb?” (Y/n) chuckled, the sight of Pro Hero Hawks, man who could pull absolute pussy, bent over his bedroom window, stuck with his wings awkwardly fluttering in place. “Just, I don’t know, send your feathers off until they’re small enough to fit you in.”

Keigo had a wave of realization. This man had no braincells whatsoever. “...oh, haha, you’re so smart~”

One by one, feathers jutted out from his back, each floating either inside (Y/n’s) room or outside the window. Once all of them were off, and his back were relatively empty, he tumbled ever-so-gracefully inside the room. He stood up, his wings rebuilding themselves in seconds, and did an awful curtsy.

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all day to take care of my sick patrol partner who do happens to be my boyfriend,”

“Speaking of patrol -what happened to patrol? A-and the dude you should be patrolling with? You should be out by n-“

A sharp, piercing pain shot through (Y/n’s) head. Now that the adrenaline from Hawks pounding on his window was subsiding, he seemed to remember how much his head was hurting.

He fumbled down, catching himself on the foot of his bed while Keigo lurched forward. “You good?” He mumbled, taking off his black wool glove.

He rested the back of his palm on (Y/n’s) forehead, before signing uncontently and replacing his hand with his lips. Even if he was burning up, (Y/n) froze.

After a while, Keigo drew his head back. “You’re burning up...”

Silence. Hawks awkwardly chuckled and played it off by running his hand through his hair.

“Lips are more sensitive than hands are-so I was just...you need to get to bed!” Keigo quickly stood up, gently ushering the sick hero to his bed. Pulling up the thick-set covers, Keigo hazily tosses his jacket to the corner and discarded his other glove.

“Try and get some rest. Did that dude’s quirk from yesterday do this?” He got a nod in response. “Alright. I’m gonna go change and get you some shit.”

With that and a warm smile, Keigo disappeared through the bedroom door. (Y/n) followed him with his eyes, right before he was out of sight, then let his eyes droop close.

———

“Pssst.”

A finger poked at (Y/n’s) cheek. He grumbled, furrowing his brows and keeping his eyes screwed shut. He heard a sigh from somewhere above him.

Something feathery tickled him from underneath his nose. He scrunched his nose up, expecting the odd feeling to go away, before feeling a sneeze build up. The watery feeling course through his nose before his head shot up every-so-slightly to let out a weak “Achoo!”

Keigo snickered. (Y/n) finally opened his eyes. Keigo was sitting beside him, now in casual clothes, holding a convince store bag and a red feather. The feather flew out of his hand and stuck itself on his back.

“Sorry I was out for so long. You didn’t have jack shit in your house, so I bought some medicine and takeout since I know you won’t eat soup and I can’t cook.”

It was true. The only thing Pro Hero Hawks is allowed to do is heat up a hotdog, and even then he might break the microwave. And (Y/n) won’t eat soup he made if his life depended on it. If he can’t even turn on the stove, what makes you think that he’d drink a whole bowl of soup made by him and not die?

“Whad’ja get?” (Y/n’s) voice came out more gravely and deep than he expected. Under different circumstances, that would’ve been kinda hot. Keigo pulled out things one by one from the bag.

“Ok so, I got painkillers, a cooling pack, a heating pad just in case your stomach starts hurting, a thermometer, and I found these cool matching red bird keychains and I bought them on impulse. One for you and one for me~ I also bought 2 beef bowls”

Keigo layed all the items down either on the bed or on the table beside it, holding up the keychains last. Shaking them around a bit, turns out there was a small bell inside both of them. (Y/n) tried, and failed, to hide his growing smile.

Keigo placed the cooling pack on (Y/n’s) previously burning forehead. The sudden coldness forced an involuntary groan from the bed sick male. He chuckled.

“Sorry. Deal with that for awhile and I’ll feed you~” Hawks saddled up in the spot next to him, holding the two plastic bowls and worming his way underneath the covers. He placed the food down on his lap and switched on the tv.

They sat in silence, the only thing being the sounds of the tv filling the room with the occasional reaction or snicker from the two. Keigo alternated between shoveling a forkful of rice and beef into his mouth, then feeding his boyfriend and carefully making sure none spilled onto his bed. The news reporter droned on onscreen, their voice being tuned out by the two hero’s.

“By the way, Keigo,” (Y/n) started, once he swallowed his food. Keigo gave a hum of acknowledgment, holding up a finger to (y/n), then to his mouth until he finished chewing. Thickly swallowing, Keigo hummed again.

“You were supposed to patrol today. With one of my sidekicks. What happened to that?”

Keigo looked at (Y/n), before looking back at the tv so causally. For a while he said nothing, until he opened his mouth.

“I ditched.”

(Y/n) made a sputtering noise. His shock turned into a long string of hacks and coughs, which Keigo waited ever-so-patiently for him to calm down from. “You ditched?! Keigo, you’re the no. 2 hero! You can’t be caught ditching!”

“Relaaaaax,” Keigo leaned farther into the bed cushions. “I told my agency and your stupid sidekick man that I was gonna check on you. It was a valid excuse.”

“Still!” (Y/n) rubbed at his temples. Hawks shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. “You’re sitting here watching tv with me instead of working!”

“I needed a break. Plus,” Keigo held up his unfinished bowl of food defensively.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I love you too~”

(Y/n) sighed.

“I hope you get sick.” Hawks chuckled, saying something about being immune to all sicknesses.

Needless to say, (y/n) was patrolling with one of Keigos sidekicks the next day.

——————

[choco-exe]

the one where akaashi and tsukishima react to their girlfriend hiding that she’s sick

genre: fluff? ig type: scenario status: proofread pronouns: female warnings: none

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒 . . . 🖉  [𝟾𝟹𝟽 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜]

   ♕ you know he’s a very observant person (it scares you sometimes) so you consider just not going to school the day you found out you were sick    ♕ but you reconsider because you walk to school with him since he isn’t a dick and waits for you    ♕ you sucked up the confidence you needed, exited your house, and went up to akaashi, a scarf tightly wrapped around your neck that also covered up half your face so he wouldn’t see your rosy cheeks and runny nose    ♕ he smiled softly because you looked adorable, just bundled up in your scarf     ♕ “are you cold, love?” he asks and you play along with his question and just nod your head. he takes out another jacket from his bag and drapes it over your shoulders bro where can i find a person like him oml    ♕ his fingers brush your skin slightly as he adjusts his jacket to fit your body snugly, and he’s alarmed at how warm you are, since you don’t emit that much body heat    ♕ he’s quick to pull down your scarf and cup your cheeks. sure enough, your body is on f i r e. he also notices how red your cheek area was, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from skin contact    ♕ you’re internally panicking when he presses his forehead to yours    ♕ “y/n, do you have a fever?” he would ask as he looks directly into your eyes cuz he knows you can’t lie when you two make eye contact    ♕ you try to look away but he held your head firmly, preventing you from breaking from his gaze    ♕ "it’s nothing.” you murmured, hoping he wouldn’t see past your bluff    ♕ he didn’t buy it because he’s a smart boi and clicked his tongue. “stay home”    ♕ you roll your eyes as you pulled away from his touch. “it really is nothing, keiji. let’s just get to school.”     ♕ as you started walking away, you fail to notice akaashi frowning deeply    ♕ so it surprised you when he picked you up in his arms, literally swooping you off your feet. . . “Keiji!” You squeaked, automatically looping your arms around his neck. “Let me down!” Akaashi ignored your request as he casually walked over to your front door. You sigh as he unlocked it easily nani dafuq he’s carrying you with both his arms this magical man how Subconsciously, you snuggled into his chest, since he was just so warm; his body heat was basically radiating all around him. You almost fell asleep, but the familiar door creaking open to your bedroom snapped you awake. “Keiji, you’re gonna be late for school-” You swerved your head around and sneezed, careful not to face Akaashi, nor get anything on him. He stayed quiet as he gently laid you down on your bed, draping your blanket over your body, and tucking you in. “I love how you worry about me, even when you aren’t feeling well,” he began, as he sat down on the edge of your bed. “But, even for these few moments, can you please just let me take care of you?” He stroked your cheek affectionately, patiently waiting for your response. damn akaashi you have your way with words Your heart fluttering, you nodded as you leaned into his touch. He smiled gently and kissed your forehead, then got up. “I’ll be back, princess.” He said, swerving around and practically running out the room, although he tried to step very gently so he wouldn’t make that much noise. A few minutes of you staring at the ceiling go by before you begin to think that Akaashi left for school, so it surprised you when you heard gentle footsteps hurriedly getting louder. You slightly shrink back into the mattress, but your face lit up in delight when you saw that it was just Akaashi, who walked into your room with a bowl with warm water and a cloth. He set the bowl carefully on your nightstand, dipped the cloth into the warm water, and placed it on your forehead. “I’m assuming you ate and had your medicine already.” He said in a low voice. “Mhm..” You replied sleepily. He thought your reaction was the cutest thing ever, but he kept it to himself as he pat your head. “I’ll give you some soup and medicine when it’s lunchtime for you, then.” You slowly nodded as you reached up to grab his hand, but stopping at the last second. “..you’re gonna be super late, Keiji.. go to school; I’ll be fine by myself.” Akaashi hesitated, putting his hand over yours and squeezing it gently. “Don’t worry about me.” He said. “Just get some sleep, okay?” “Okay..” You mumbled, your eyes closing. Within seconds, you were fast asleep.  Akaashi stood up and headed his way to school, your homework also in his bag. Someone would have to turn those in and take notes, and it certainly wouldn’t be you.

𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊 . . . 🖉 [𝟾𝟸𝟹 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜]   ☾ so you’re avoiding tsukishima at all cost; you know you can’t skip school because your grades depend on it, so you’re just very cautious about where you go   ☾ he would find out, though, when you don’t visit his classroom   ☾ like he’d just be listening to his music until the bell rang   ☾ he wouldn’t really be worried because sometimes you oversleep lololol   ☾ when break began he wasn’t that concerned and was just waiting patiently, but when it ended, he was confused   ☾ like why haven’t you visiting him yet?? are you dead??   ☾ he actually made the effort to go to your own classroom when lunch started since you’re not smart like he is T^T   ☾ and when he asks one of your friends about your whereabouts she just look at him all confused and says, “wait i thought y/n went to your classroom already?? she just left??”   ☾ k now he’s really concerned; he also notices that your stuff is at your desk   ☾ the panic isn’t visible on his face, but he’s conjuring up a plan to try and find you cuz we all know he’s secretly head over heels for you   ☾ then he gets a message from his phone from you! he almost flings his phone across the room, taking it out so quickly   ☾ you told him that you wanted a snack from ukai’s store, and that he should eat with the team without you   ☾ but he knew if you wanted to go somewhere you would just complain your ass off to him, so he’s running around campus trying to find you   ☾ the last place he checked was the infirmary; he just glanced in it and walked away..   ☾ ..then he immediately whirled around and stared right through the window on the door   ☾ you were chilling on one of the beds, although you didn’t look that healthy with red cheeks and coughing ever so often.   ☾ tsukishima barges into the room, and you look up in surprise. . . “K-Kei?!” You sputtered, and then went into a coughing fit. He frowned and crossed to the bed you were on in a few long strides. “How dumb are you to come to school while you’re sick?” He harshly asked, staring down at you. You look down and fiddle with your fingers. “I didn’t want my grades to drop..” You murmured, staring at your lap. “..and I didn’t want to worry you-” “You think avoiding me would make me not worry about you?” Tsukishima snapped, glaring at you. “Do you think you’re the only one who has feelings? That the world revolves around your thick skull?” You stayed silent, contemplating what he just said. When the silence became heavy, he realized he went a bit too far with his words, judging how you subconsciously sank a bit lower than you were before, and you were now squeezing your hands together tightly. Sighing, he placed his hand on your forehead. “How’d you get sick in the first place? Did you stay up all night watching.. Kimetsu no Yaiba, was it?” “I had a really important test coming up.. so I studied all night for the past week..” It was then that Tsukishima realized that you had very dark circles underneath your eyes; it was like someone smudged charcoal under them. “Did the nurse give you medicine?” “Yes..” Tsukishima took out his phone and typed something in, then shoved it back into his pocket. With you watching him curiously, he turned around, kneeling so his back would be exposed fully to you. “What are you..?” “What do you think, idiot? Get on my back before I leave you to walk.” Hesitantly, you get off the bed and placed your hands on his shoulders; he lifted you up easily and started to stride out of school. When you two walk out the gates, you realize something. “Kei, everything is still at my desk. Can we go back-” “I’ll drop it off to you later.” He interrupted. “Don’t worry about being absent, either; I already told Yamaguchi to tell your teacher that you won’t be attending your classes for the remainder of the day. Try and rest for a few minutes, so I don’t have to deal with you talking.” You slightly giggle at his statement, although you hacked out a cough immediately after. “You’re the one who’s been talking a lot,” you said as you eyed his headphones, since they were just laying around his neck. Using one hand, you grab them and put them around your ears. Tsukishima said nothing to this as you rested your forehead on his shoulder, the soft music and the slight sway of him walking lulling you to sleep. Your soft breathing indicating to him that you were no longer awake, Tsukishima let out a soft sigh and started to come up with ways he could indirectly apologize to you.

[icollectyoursins]

Okuyasu x Fem!Reader SFW

martinbolseiro asked "If requests are still open I would like to ask you for a Stroheim x Female reader fluff / nsfw nº24 and nº82 please hihiihi and Okuyasu x Female reader fluff nº1 and nº10 “

Reader and Okuyasu are in high school for this one, just so it’s not weird with an adult dating a teen. We do not stand for that here. I also use (L/N) which will stand for your last name in this.

You had the unfortunate luck of getting sick in the middle of the school year and your boyfriend has just the thing to cheer you up! I mean, what could be better than him visiting you with your movie, munchies and drinks? Nothing. That’s what.

First part of the request is here.

No. 1 "Shh, don't cry. I'll always be here." 

No. 10 "I'll keep you warm, come here."

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: None, reader is sick, so there’s talk of that. Also some Tonio stuff at the end, nothing too graphic though.

Word Count: 1308

     A loud, painful cough thundered in your lungs making you wince. It was just a cold, but still, you felt like hell. You groaned, lying back down on your bed, tossing the tissue to the side. Suddenly, you began to think about all the school you were missing and felt worse. It was only a week, but still missing five days of school could be the equivalent of missing a month depending on the subject.

     While in the midst of your self-loathing, you heard a shout from outside your window.

     “Oi! (Y/N)!” Okuyasu. You groaned, begrudgingly getting out of bed and opening the window. “Hii, (Y/N)!”

     “Hi, Okuyasu,” you grumbled. Not that you weren’t happy to see him, he always seemed to brighten your day, but frankly, you didn’t want to see anyone right now. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

     “No! We just finished.” You furrowed your brows, it couldn’t be time for home already, could it? A glance over to your clock proved that school was indeed done for the day. “Hi, miss (L/N). Can I come in to see (Y/N)? I have some work for her.”

     “Not for too long. Wouldn’t want you getting sick too!” Your mom replied, stern but somehow still cheery. 

     “Ookay.” With that, he was practically running up the stairs to your bedroom and bursting through the door. “Hey! How are you feeling?”

     You sighed with a roll of your eyes. “Okuyasu, you’re going to get sick, don’t- hey! No, don’t hug me-ah!”

     “I missed you!” He had lifted you up into a bear hug. A very warm and comforting bear hug. You couldn’t really be mad at him as he gently set you on your feet and started going on about what had transpired the week you were away. Though you weren’t entirely sure it was true, it was entertaining getting all the info on the drama when you weren’t there.

     “Wow. Didn’t think she’d do something like that,” you comment as he’s telling you about what one of the cheerleaders did to the other. It made you feel so glad you didn’t join the team or any other team for that matter. You were perfectly happy and busy running around after your lovable fool and his friend. 

     “Yeah, it was wild. Teachers didn’t even know what to do! They were just as shocked as we were,” he burst out laughing, tossing his head back and wiping away a tear.

     Suddenly you were sent into another coughing fit, covering your mouth with your elbow. At first, he panicked, then saw the tissues and the glass of water on your nightstand, running to grab them. He knelt next to you, eyes wide while he rubbed your back until it subsided. He offered you the glass first before settling down to sit cross-legged. You groaned when he pulled you closer so you were leaning against him.

     “Okuyasu, you’re gonna get sick,” you mumble, eyes slowly drooping into sleep. He was so warm and comfy. The perfect human pillow. He laughed at you.

     “I never get sick! And if I do, I just go to Tonio’s! Heyy, that’s an idea! Let’s go to Tonio’s!” Okuyasu was suddenly getting up, pulling you with him. Then, he went through your closet, looking for something for you to wear. 

     “I really don’t think I’m in the best of shape to go somewhere.” You sit down on your bed with a sniffle.

     “It’ll be fine!” He reassures you. “Besides, isn’t fresh air supposed to be good for you? Here, wear this. I’ll be downstairs waiting.”

     He tosses some nice-looking, comfy clothes and excitedly exits your room. You sigh. There really wasn’t a way to stop him at this point, so you got into your clothes, changing the shirt to something less cartoony to a plain single-coloured tee with less stains. Maybe he was right. You would feel better if you went outside and something other than your mom’s cooking sounded so nice right about now. Whatever, what’s the worst that could happen.

     When you got downstairs Okuyasu had already sold your mom on the idea of going out. She cheerily told you to have fun and be back before curfew as you walked out the door. He grinned proudly, wrapping an arm around you while you made your way to the bus station.

--------

     The bus ride to the little restaurant by the graveyard was full of idle chatter about school again and what he was planning on doing when he got home. A new game came out recently, so he and Josuke agreed to play it together.

     “You can come-” he asked, quickly covering it up with a hasty “-if you want! I don’t know. Josuke isn’t one to share his games, but I might convince him.”

     You laughed. “Well, if you can convince my mum to let me outside, you can probably get anyone to do whatever you wanted. But, Okuyasu, I’m sick, remember.”

     “Ha! Just wait. Tonio can cure anything with his food. It’s the best in the world.” You rolled your eyes, only half believing him. You hadn’t been to Tonio’s before but your boyfriend never shut up about how good the food was.

     “As long as you’re paying,” you elbowed his side, teasing him. He looks shocked.

     “Of course, I am! What kind of man doesn’t buy his lady food?” He mutters under his breath, seriously asking. You just laugh again. 

     The walk from the bus stop to the restaurant was thankfully short, but you swore could smell the food cooking from a mile away. Okuyasu grabbed your hand, gently pulling you behind him. He burst through the doors, happily calling out Tonio’s name. They exchanged hellos while you were sat at the table.

     “Um, is there a menu?” You asked awkwardly. They laughed.

     “No! Tonio makes whatever you need. He knows everything! Here, have the water.” He sets your cup down in front of you while Tonio goes off to make whatever it was he thought you needed. Your boyfriend practically shook with excitement while he waited for you to take your first sip.

     Your eyes grew wide with shock as the water hit your tongue. It was the best water you had ever had. Was it from a well or something? You glugged down the rest, then suddenly you were crying and couldn’t stop. Okuyasu, though still smiling, rubbed your back, soothing you. Just like that, it stopped and your eyes felt better than they ever had before. They weren’t scratchy or tired. You were wide awake!

     “See? Don’t you feel better?” He asked, petting your head.

     “Yeah, actually. I do. What the hell is in that water?” He chuckles to himself, muttering something that sounded like ‘sand tomes?’ You were about to ask him to say that again, but Tonio came back with a bowl in his hand.

     “Chicken noodle soup! Enjoy!” He called out, disappearing back into the kitchen.

     It was the best-smelling chicken noodle soup. Without wasting another minute, you dug in. Okuyasu was right. This was the best food in the world. You finished in record timing, humming happily. Then you started coughing again. You grabbed a napkin and coughed into it. It felt like you were literally hacking up a lung or some other organ. One large inhale of breath and it magically subsided.

     You could breathe so much better now! How? That was- how?

     Okuyasu leaned back with his arms behind his head and his feet kicked up on another chair. You could feel the confidence radiating off of him. 

     “How do you feel, (Y/N)?” He asked, cocky as all hell. “Wanna go hang at Josuke’s?” You stared at him awestruck while he laughed loudly. The only thoughts you had were: thank you? Then, my boyfriend is crazy and finally what the hell just happened?

[hanaasbananas]

let's get covered in flames and play some games with the smoke

@apopcornkernel made this post about enemies AND lovers a few months ago and it IMMEDIATELY gave me MANY ideas. And then what was supposed to be just Vibes ended up being over 8k and historical. Sorrynotsorry

AO3

He finds his soulmate on his birthday.

Having finished a disastrous family dinner, Adrien rises from the table, ignoring father yelling after him and escapes out into the pouring rain.

In seconds, he’s soaked to the bone, and he hesitates on the front steps, wondering if it’s worth going back for his jacket but then he hears the lock click into place and the decision is made for him. Father won’t let him back in until morning.

Not that he had any plans to come home before then anyway.

His hair is plastered to his forehead by the time he  reaches one of his regular haunts on the other side—the wrong side—of town, his teeth chattering in earnest, stopped only by something appearing in his mouth.

Swallowing in surprise, Adrien feels the item slide to the back of his tongue, almost going down his throat and choking him before he coughs, forcing it back up. A group of people skirt around him as they leave the bar, giving him bemused looks while he continues to cough, until he finally hacks out the item into his hand.

A pendant.

Eyes watering a little, he holds it up in front of his face, taking in the colour of the gemstone—the only clue he has to his soulmate's identity.

Not for the first time, he wonders at the practicality of soulmate jewelry appearing in one's mouth, but then, who is he to judge the universe?

The chain glints in the dim light before Adrien curls his fist around it and shoves his hand deep inside his pocket. He knows that shade of blue. He’d have known it was her even without the pendant burning his skin, telling him she’s near.

Lighting up a cigarette, Adrien leans back against the wall, scanning the room for her and finding her sitting at the bar. He’s never met her as a civilian before, though he certainly knows of her. But if she’s his soulmate, why hadn’t he received the jewelry when he’d first become Chat Noir and fought her?

Unless it isn’t Ladybug, but no—she turns to the side slightly and he’d recognise that profile anywhere.

Well. The universe works in mysterious ways. Adrien will certainly never claim to understand them. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he stubs it out with a sigh before making his way across the room.

“Ladybug,” he greets, sliding onto the stool beside her.

Her shoulders stiffen, though her voice is sugary sweet as she flips her hair and turns to him. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong— you !” A scowl twists her lips—coloured a shade of red almost as bright as her suit—and she drops the act.

“Me,” he confirms, bowing his head mockingly. She recognises him of course. He’d expected nothing less.

There isn’t a single girl in this city who hasn’t been warned to stay away from him—and with good reason. After all, Gabriel Agreste may be one of the biggest names in the alcohol trade—and he’s filthy rich to boot— but he’s still Hawkmoth, still has every cop around here on his payroll, can make people disappear with just a snap of his fingers.

Even the most opportunistic man thinks twice before dealing with the Agrestes. Not to mention the fact that everyone knows that one of his sons is Chat Noir, though nobody is quite sure who.

Adrien prefers it that way.

Nobody wants to get caught up in that bullshit. Nobody wants their daughters caught up in it either.

Least of all Tom Dupain—his father’s main competitor in the business. But Marinette Dupain is not the shrinking violet her father thinks she is. He’s seen her swear like a sailor whenever she arrives to fight an akuma, even teaching him a few new words. If they hadn’t been fighting at the time, he’d have proposed on the spot.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Adrien asks.

“What is this?” She's not defensive, but her eyes meet his calculatingly, darting past him to make sure that he’s alone, that she isn’t in any danger she can’t get out of, so he relaxes, feigns nonchalance, making himself as non threatening as possible.

Lifting his shoulder in a shrug, he says “it’s a peace offering, a show of good faith—whatever the hell you want to call it.” He flags down the bartender, raising a brow. “So? Whaddya say?”

He won’t tell her about the soulmate thing. Not yet. But none of their people are here—they’re practically anonymous, just two young people getting a drink together. It’s as close to neutral ground as they're ever gonna get and the night stretches out ahead of them, brimming with endless possibilities.

Eventually, she nods. “Make it a good one.”

***

Green eyes meet blue over the rim of the glass, an invisible tug of war going on between them as they drink from the same glass, lips touching where the others have been. Her presence is intoxicating, more so than the whiskey, and every time her fingers brush his, a thrill runs down his spine, electricity dancing along his nerve endings and he wonders why the bar hasn’t caught fire yet, wonders how the building is still standing around them, hasn’t been reduced to rubble at their feet.

Soon enough, it becomes too much to ignore, and he rises. He’s been to this speakeasy before, knows all about the rooms in the back, and it’s not long before he’s sliding a few notes across to the bartender who hands them a key.

The door barely shuts behind them and he’s already grabbing her dress, tugging at the hem and bunching it up around her thighs. Marinette pushes his suit jacket off his shoulders, fumbles with the buttons on his shirt before giving up and ripping the fabric instead, sending buttons skittering across the floor, deafening in the quiet room.

“That was an expensive shirt, doll,” he breathes over her neck and she laughs, throaty and dark, pinning him with her gaze.

“That’s too bad.”

He goes to kiss her then, to cup her face but she swats him away, taking his hands and planting them on her waist instead. “Keep your hands down here, mister,” her lips curve in a wicked smile “those lips too.”

Rising on her tiptoes, she presses a kiss to his jaw, continuing higher and higher, her breath tickling his skin as she whispers in his ear: “we wouldn’t want you getting any ideas about stealing my miraculous, now, would we?” She bites his earlobe gently, tugging at it with her teeth and dragging a groan out from the back of his throat before leaning back, regarding him with hazy, lust filled eyes.

“Of course not,” he says, tempering his disappointment.

Adrien’s never wanted something as much as he wants her lips right now. He wants to kiss the lipstick from her lips, taste her mouth and feel her tongue against his own, and she knows it. She can see what she’s doing to him, but he sees through her, sees that she wants it just as much and if she wants to play games, well...he’s never been one to turn down a challenge.

Instead, he dips his head, nipping and sucking at the column of her throat, tasting the salt on her skin, letting the scent of her perfume wash over him as he noses the strap of her dress down her shoulder.

Pressing kisses against the exposed flesh, he grins when she clutches at his shoulder, her legs wrapping around his waist, and he stumbles backwards towards the couch, Marinette’s gasps filling his ears like the best kind of music.

Afterwards, he watches her leave in her rumpled dress, gloves clutched in one hand, purse in the other. She pauses in the doorway, looking back at him.

“I’ll be seeing you again, Agreste,” she says, and it sounds like a promise.

He stays, long after she’s gone, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, examining the lipstick print she’d left on the rim of the glass, and he thinks:

Happy fucking birthday to me.

***

They do meet again.

He doesn’t seek her out, but they run in the same circles, frequent the same bars, and once he notices, it becomes impossible to ignore. They gravitate towards each other, neither able to stay away for long.

Soon enough, it’s not enough to spend a single night here and there whenever their orbits happen to collide, but consciously making plans to see each other. It’s lying sated in bed together, limbs draped over each other as they share a cigarette instead of hastily getting dressed and leaving with her scent still clinging to his hair, her lipstick marking his skin.

He learns the planes of her body, memorises the taste of her skin and what makes her come undone beneath his fingers. Still, Marinette never lets him kiss her. He hasn’t tried again since that first time, though the craving for it keeps him awake at night, a sweet ache deep in his bones that never goes away; a thirst he cannot quench no matter what he tries.

He learns the planes of her body, but does not yet know the taste of her lips.

***

“Where’s this one from?”

Propped up on one elbow, Adrien gently traces one of the scars on Marinette’s exposed back, feeling the raised skin underneath his fingertips.

“No idea,” lying on her stomach beside him, Marinette watches him lazily. “I stopped counting after that first week of akuma battles. Does it matter?”

“I thought the cure—” he breaks off, suddenly distracted when Marinette sits up, the sheets pooling around her waist.

Rolling her eyes, she reaches out to grab his chin between her fingers, pulling his attention away from her breasts. “Doesn’t work on me,” she shrugs, “it never has.”

He’d thought the miraculous cure only left him scarred as punishment, reminding him that he was doing the wrong thing. His scars are well deserved, but Marinette’s are not

Is this his fault too? Adrien thinks of the soulmate necklace that he always keeps in his trouser pocket, holding onto it like a talisman whenever Marinette isn’t near.

He still hasn’t told her, but now he wonders. If someone else was her soulmate, would her skin be unblemished, all damage reversed at the end of each battle? Is it her connection to him that gives her these scars?

Adrien doesn’t have an answer.

Maybe it's selfish—who is he kidding, it’s definitely selfish—but as he pushes Marinette back down onto the mattress; as he explores her body, kissing her scars and committing each one to memory, he can't help but be glad that they match.

***

In the meantime, they still fight as though nothing has changed. And nothing has, not really.

Father still sends out akumas, Adrien is still his fathers lackey, and Marinette still comes to fight them both.

If there’s a new synchronicity to their movements, a new, more intimate knowledge of how the other moves, they don’t mention it. And if he’s more careful about where he lets his staff land, about the power behind his blows, he doesn’t mention that either.

Nothing has changed. And yet nothing will ever be the same again.

***

Marinette doesn’t figure it out for another month, but when she does, she’s spitting mad-angrier than he’s ever seen her.

She collides with him as soon as he enters the bar, before he can so much as shrug off his jacket, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the back room. The door only just shuts behind them and she’s whirling on him, eyes blazing.

“Why are you going easy on me?” She hisses, poking him in the chest “I haven’t been injured in weeks.”

He raises a brow “and that’s a bad thing now?”

“Yes!”

“Well I’m sorry, but I prefer when a fight is evenly matched.”

That, and every time she stands against him in that red suit, radiating power, seeming for all the world to be invincible...all he can think about is what lies beneath. Of her skin, pliant and soft beneath his fingertips, of the scars that litter her body.

He knows them all now. Knows which ones took the longest to heal and which still hurt her sometimes. What he doesn’t know—what keeps him awake at night, guilt gnawing away at his stomach—is which ones he gave her.

So many years. So many battles. How many of those injuries were inflicted by him?

Adrien will not be the one to add to them, lengthening his list of crimes. He won’t stop the akumas from hurting her—father would get suspicious after all—but that doesn’t mean he has to take part.

And there are other things that distract him

“ Evenly ma—” Marinette almost shrieks in outrage, stamping her foot. “ They always have been!”

“They were,” he corrects her. “Not anymore though.” Stepping forward, he leans in close to whisper in her ear, his breath ghosting along her skin, “it’s not a fair fight when I’m distracted. When all I can think about is your legs around me.” Marinette’s breath hitches and he grins, circling her “when the entire time I’m imagining what your lips might taste like, and all I want to do is stop fighting so that I may kiss you instead.”

Marinette’s cheeks are flushed, her breathing unsteady when he pulls back, but she’s quick to recover and meets his gaze defiantly. “Then kiss me.”

Adrien blinks, his turn now to be taken aback. “What?”

She shrugs, examining her nails nonchalantly. “Kiss me then. Or was that all talk?”

He doesn’t have to be told again.

Surging forward, Adrien cups her face for the first time but he doesn’t take the time to savour it, his fingers already sliding to the back of her head, burying in her hair as her hands fly to his shoulders and capturing her lips with his own.

Kissing Marinette is nothing like he imagined. It’s better.

As her lips move against his, Adrien thinks in a distant part of his mind that it was probably a good thing they waited this long to kiss, because already he is addicted to the taste of her. His tongue swipes against hers and her arms circle his neck, pulling him even closer. Her mouth is intoxicating and he could get drunk off the taste of it, like caramel, like expensive chocolate and strawberries—a forbidden fruit, acquired at last.

***

“You know, I wouldn’t have to keep doing this if-sit still” —Adrien presses down on her hips, holding her in place as he makes the final stitch through her skin and cuts the thread, reaching for a clean rag— “if you didn’t keep taking hits that aren’t meant for you in the first place.”

Marinette rolls her eyes, leveraging herself into a sitting position so that he can bandage her wound more easily. They’d struck an agreement, Adrien promising not to hold back during akuma battles as long as she meets with him afterwards to get patched up. So far, it’s been working a great deal better than doing it herself , especially on days like today.

This injury had been one of the more nasty ones—the akuma’s blade slicing through her side. The only reason it hadn’t gone straight through her belly was because she’d been pushing a civilian out of the way and it had caught her side instead, but the jagged blade had still done a fair amount of damage.

“I’m Ladybug , that’s kind of my whole job. Now if your father’s akumas would stop sending those hits…” Marinette trails off, staring down at him with an arched brow, though the effect is diminished by the hiss of pain that escapes her as he wraps the bandage tightly around her torso.

Adrien’s grin is sharp when he looks up at her through his eyelashes, and once again, she is taken aback by just how beautiful this man is—the sharp angles of his face, his thick messy hair, and piercing green eyes. Beautiful, yes—and dangerous.

He winks at her then, teeth glinting in the low light of the hotel room, “now where’s the fun in that?”

***

Adrien isn’t sure when it shifts.

He’s noticed the change of course. Noticed how they laugh between kisses more often than not, how their interactions are gentler—a fire simmering under the surface instead of consuming them whole.

It’s dangerous, what they’re doing, and yet they can’t seem to kick the habit. What started out as strictly physical, as a way to blow off steam is turning into something else, something he can’t—or won’t —put a name to.

***

There’s no akuma tonight, and Adrien is enjoying the rare moment of peace. In the distance, someone is having a party, the music spilling out onto the street and he finds himself nodding along to the tune when a flash of red—Ladybug—crosses his eye.

Curious, he follows her from a distance, watching as she stops at the docks. His eyebrows rise. The only thing people come here for is alcohol shipments. Carefully, she sets down a large crate atop a pile that was already there.

“Why, Ladybug,” he drawls, stepping out from the shadows. “I didn’t take you for a bootlegger. What will the papers say? Aren’t you supposed to be a model citizen?”

She snorts. “Model citizens can still drink .” Gesturing over her shoulder at the crates, she shrugs. “Papa asked me to drop these wine bricks off during the day and then I forgot. Now’s as good a time as any.”

“Under cover of darkness?”

“ Obviously . Ladybug might drink, but I’d rather not find out what would happen if people saw her contributing to the trade of alcohol.” She reaches behind one of the crates and pulls out a bottle of wine “want some?”

“Drinking debauches mankind, you know,” he remarks and she wrinkles her nose, popping the cork and taking a swig. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m a woman isn’t it?” She smiles coyly darting out of his reach when he tries to grab the bottle. Taking to the rooftops with him hot on her trail, her laughter echoes around them, a happy joyful thing that makes his heart sing.

Ah, he thinks, catching her round the waist and holding her close. So this is love.

***

Some nights, she’ll sneak Adrien into her bedroom instead of getting a hotel room. It’s a thrill, having to keep quiet, especially when Adrien takes great pleasure in drawing noise from her lips, forcing her to bite her tongue until she tastes blood, lest her papa come investigating.

Marinette is fairly certain maman knows what she’s up to, but she turns a blind eye and Adrien is usually out just as the first rays of sunlight bleed across the sky, his hair like molten gold.

Not this time though.

This time, she wakes to his arm lying heavy across her middle, his head buried into the crook of her neck but it is not a slow awakening.

“Marinette?” Papa knocks loudly on her bedroom door and she jerks up, heart pounding wildly in her chest as she scrambles to put on her nightgown.

“I’m up, papa!”

“Shitshitshit —” Adrien is still only half awake but there’s no time—she shoves him onto the floor. Casting her eyes desperately around for his clothes, she pushes them into his hands and shoos him under the bed before practically launching herself across the room to her vanity, grabbing her hairbrush just as papa walks in.

“Good morning, pumpkin!” papa booms, crossing the room and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I just wanted to see you before I go.”

“Go…?”

Papa nods. “We’re running a raid on one of Agreste’s warehouses and I’ll be on the floor with my men when it happens.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s voice is faint as he continues to talk about the raid. She forces a bland smile, acutely aware of Adrien underneath her bed, listening to their conversation.

After what seems like an eternity, papa leaves, ruffling her hair as he goes, laughing at her attempts to swat him away.

“Goodbye, papa! Good luck!”

Hardly daring to breathe, she listens carefully, waiting for papas footsteps to recede, going further and further down the hall until she hears the low murmur of conversation between her parents in the kitchen.

Only then does she relax, dropping her hairbrush onto the floor with a thunk. “You can come out now.”

Adrien emerges from beneath her bed, but she can’t meet his eyes and he doesn’t say anything either. Still, he pecks her briefly before leaving, fingers brushing against her jaw and she leans into the touch, pretending that she does not see the conflict brewing in his green eyes.

Not for the first time, she wonders what she is doing with her enemy. Wonders at the risk she is taking, not just with her own life, but her papas as well, and all those in the city who she protects.

She’s playing with fire as if she’ll never get burnt, but even if she did, she thinks she’d probably dust herself off and jump right back into the flames, as long as Adrien was there to greet her.

***

Adrien mulls over the information on his way home, trying to decide what to do. Is it not his duty to protect the business he will one day inherit? It’s in the family's best interest. It’s in his best interest.

He could tell father. He should do it.

But he won’t.

***

The raid goes off without a hitch. Her papa is unharmed—though bewildered at her sudden affection, but it is Adrien who receives the majority of it after a week of staying away from him, too worried about the raid to do anything but stay home all week.

“You didn’t tell your father,” she says afterwards, pouring out their drinks and passing him a glass. They’re naked, the sheets tangled around them and her mouth is red and swollen from his kisses, but the way his fingers close over hers, lingering for a second before drawing away seems somehow more intimate, and she feels a flush rising on her cheeks, looking away and throwing back her drink in one gulp. “About the raid. Why?”

Adrien shrugs. “I could hardly warn them about something I’d never heard about,” his voice is laced with nonchalance and she rests her head on his shoulder, letting him toy with her hair as he speaks. “I wasn’t there now, was I?”

He doesn’t elaborate, but there’s no need to. The implication is clear and Marinette feels the last of her doubts slip away. He will not betray her.

It is this thought, the absolute certainty with which she believes it that brings the  final defences around her heart crashing down, and finally, finally , she lets herself define what it is that makes her heart beat faster whenever Adrien is near, that has her laughing so hard at his stupid jokes that she snorts wine out of her nose. that has her searching a room for him as soon as she steps through the door, restless until she finds him.

She laughs then, twisting around to kiss him full on the lips, burying her hands in his hair and pressing herself closer to him, so close she can almost feel his quickening heartbeat underneath his chest

Love, she thinks. It’s love.

***

“What would you do,” Marinette asks conversationally, drawing circles round and round on Adriens chest. Though she feigns nonchalance, there’s a slight tremble to her voice that she hopes he doesn’t notice. “What would you do if I said I love you right now?”

Adrien stills.

“Are you saying that now?”

She avoids his eyes “maybe.” She’s wanted to say it for a while now, the words simmering below the surface, always on the tip of her tongue whenever she sees him,  but she can’t help but be afraid. Afraid of what might come after.

“Well,” Adrien sounds amused, putting a finger gently under her chin and tilting her face up to meet his. “I’d say I love you too.”

***

“Keep your eyes closed,” Adrien says, one hand on the small of her back, leading her up the final flight of stairs.

There’s only one door on the landing—precisely why he chose this place—and he fumbles in his pocket for the key, almost dropping it in the dark.

“Adrien,” she whines, stomping her foot adorably and he laughs under his breath, pressing a quick kiss to her brow before unlocking the door.

“C’mon doll, just through here,” he guides her to the middle of the room, moving to stand in front of her, “go on then, you can look now.”

Marinette opens her eyes slowly, hand flying to her mouth as she turns on her heel, taking in the apartment they’re standing in.

“Adrien…” she meets his gaze, eyes wide “what is this place?”

“It’s ours,” he says, taking her hand. “I uh...I bought this place for us. No more hotel rooms.”

It’s small. A little cramped too, and the wallpaper is too dark, which they’ll have to change, but moonlight filters in through the large window and she looks at him like he’s bought her a mansion, like it’s the most beautiful place she’s ever seen.

“No more hotel rooms,” she repeats, a smile playing about her lips. “I like that.”

***

In the weeks that follow, they practically move in together. Instead of frequenting the bars in the city, and partying all night, she’ll make her way to the apartment where more often than not, Adrien is waiting for her.

They start to bring things in, a few books here, some records there. One night, rather than tumbling into bed, they get drunk and rip off all the hideous wallpaper. The next night, Adrien brings paint with him and they make the place their own.

It’s almost enough to make her forget everything. Almost, but not quite. After all, they never meet out in the open-the risk of either of their father’s men seeing is too great-can never be seen together

There are nights when she will stay up, running her fingers through Adrien’s hair as he sleeps beside her, and wishes that they could run away. When she sees the dark circles under his eyes, and he tells her of his father’s latest cruelty, of his frustration at being run ragged every day, she worries that their story will not have a happy ending.

Sometimes, she looks at her friends, at Alya and Nino—the open affection they share—and feels jealousy rise up inside of her like a raging monster crying out that it’s not fair!

On those nights, when she feels with such certainty that they will not have a happy ending, she settles for holding him tightly; for loving him in these secret moments in the darkness, and hopes that it will be enough.

***

Adrien gets the stone from the soulmate necklace set into a platinum band, gets their initials engraved on the inside.

He gives it to her on the anniversary of that first night, so long ago—almost a lifetime—finally letting go of his secret, and anxiety churns in his gut as he leads Marinette over to the mirror in their bedroom.

Standing behind her, he wraps his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. Marinette giggles, reaching back to tangle her fingers in his hair. “We didn’t have to come all the way over here to cuddle you know.”

“No, I—” Adrien swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “I wanted to show you something.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the small box, noticing distantly that his fingers are trembling as he opens it, showing her the ring inside.

“Is that…”

“Look,” he turns her to face the mirror again, holding the box up next to her eyes. “It matches. I didn’t tell you before, but…”

“We’re soulmates,” Marinette breathes, eyes sparkling brightly. Carefully, he slides the ring onto her finger and watches as she admires it, turning her hand this way and that, watching the stone catch the light.

He still can’t quite believe that she’d accepted it so readily. After the way he’d agonised all week, with the ring weighing heavy in his pocket with every day that passed, the sheer joy on Marinette’s face makes the breath catch in his throat.

To keep that look on her face, he’d do anything. He’d throw a lasso around the moon and pull it down for her, if only she’d ask.

She’s his soulmate . Adrien’s lived with the knowledge for a year now, but he still struggles to comprehend it sometimes. That she is his, that the universe chose them for each other.

It’s far more than he deserves, and he has to resist the urge to kiss her, to sweep her off her feet, hold her in his arms and never let go.

Marinette has no such reservations however, and she throws her arms around him, kissing him, slow and deep. “Let’s go away,” she says. “Just for a weekend. Somewhere that nobody knows us.”

How could he say no?

***

It’s exhilarating, being out in broad daylight.

She’s used to spending her nights with Adrien. Meeting him in dingy bars and dark alleys, hotel rooms with the curtains pulled closed, and though she’s seen him in the early mornings, when the sunrise spills through the window and tells them that their time together has finished, but it is an entirely different thing to see him outside.

Outside, where the sun glints off his blonde hair, transforming it into spun gold; where she discovers new shades of green in his eyes and is blinded by his smile, cheerful and bright in the daylight.

He’s never been more beautiful to her than he is now.

Adrien seems to be similarly affected, if the way he looks at her is any indication, and Marinette feels as though she is glowing from the inside out, basking in the heat of his attention.

In two days, they do everything that they couldn’t do in a year. They go to the park, and to the beach, holding hands—the action feeling somehow more scandalous than any of the other things they’ve done together—without fear of being seen.

She wears the ring he gave her and they pretend to be newlyweds and go to the fanciest restaurant in town. They go to a dance hall and dance the night away, then stumble back to their hotel in the early hours of the morning, hands fumbling with each other’s clothing, as he captures her mouth with his, their kiss a hurried clash of lips and tongues and teeth as they tumble into bed together and he makes her come undone beneath his fingers.

It’s the lightest she’s ever felt, and Marinette knows that she will cherish these two days forever—the glimpse that she got into the life of normality they might lead, if only things were different.

She never wants it to end.

But it does end, and thing’s aren’t different. In fact, things are worse.

Because when they return, the city is on fire.

***

It’s easy to follow the trail of destruction behind the akuma. Easier still to get the corrupted object and purify it, but as the miraculous cure sweeps over the city, putting out flames, restoring levelled buildings and knitting everything back together, Marinette feels the weight of her responsibility settle on her shoulders.

She’d felt so much lighter with Adrien, when they were away, but that could never last. Not when she has a duty to the people, when she is the only person who can set things to rights.

As she looks out over the healed city, Marinette turns away, frustrated tears slipping down her cheeks.

She can never leave again.

***

“And where have you been?”

Adrien pauses in the entryway, meeting father’s thunderous gaze. Félix stands beside him, though for once his brother doesn’t look smug at Adrien being in trouble.

And he’s definitely in trouble.

Father could hardly care less about one of his akumas nearly burning the city to the ground, but he does care about what his sons are doing. Or not doing, in this case.

That’s what he doesn’t yet understand. Father has a pattern and he sticks to it, never once deviating, no matter what. It was why Adrien had chosen this particular weekend to go away, knowing there was no possibility of an akuma attack, knowing that he would not be missed.

Squaring his shoulders, Adrien drops his bag by his feet. “Out.”

In three quick steps, father strides across the hall, his hand cracking across Adrien’s face, making black spots dance across his vision. “Did you have permission?”

Adrien remains silent.

“Answer me!”

“No,” he bites out. “I did not.” His cheek stings, but he resists the urge to touch it, clenching his hands into fists.

Abruptly, father’s expression clears, and he turns on his heel, motioning for Adrien to follow behind him. Silently, he does, ignoring the spike of worry in his gut in response to the troubled look Félix sends him.

Once they get to his office, father settles behind his desk, lighting a cigarette for himself before speaking again.

“Did you know,” he starts, almost conversationally “that Tom Dupain has a daughter? She’s around your age, I’d say.” Father pauses, shaking his head with a smile and the sight makes Adrien’s skin crawl. “Oh, what am I saying—of course you know her. Quite well too, from what I’ve heard.”

Adrien’s blood runs cold.

“I didn’t want to believe it of course,” he continues “but I did a little digging, and you know what I found?”

Numbly, Adrien shakes his head.

Opening his desk drawer, father pulls out an envelope, shaking out the photographs inside. They spill out across the desk, incriminating him. Incriminating Marinette.

Hadn’t they been so careful about being seen? Taken every precaution they could? But no, Adrien realises. Once he’d gotten the apartment, they’d grown lax. He’d gotten cocky, thinking that nobody would see them there.

Except someone had.

The photographs are of the two of them, exiting the apartment building. Marinette’s head is tilted up to meet his and he is cupping her cheek in his palm. In any other circumstances, he’d think it was a beautiful photo, but all he feels right now is horror, churning away in his stomach and robbing his ability to speak.

“You thought you were being very clever weren’t you? With that little apartment you got together.” Father is watching him carefully as he speaks, and Adrien struggles to school his expression, to seem unaffected. From the slight tilt of fathers lips, he is unsuccessful.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t entirely convinced that this wasn’t something simply...carnal. Something I could turn a blind eye to. Until this past weekend.”

Bile rises in his throat as suddenly, Adrien understands. The akuma attack hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing. It was a test. A test that he had failed.

“She’s distracting you. From your duties to this family, to our cause .” Reaching for the nearest photograph, father looks him directly in the eye, stubbing out his cigarette on Marinette’s face, the paper smouldering and blackening underneath the cigarette.

“Break her heart,” he says “or you’ll be picking up the pieces of her broken body instead.”

***

Adrien kisses her as soon as she arrives, his hands warming her face, drawing her closer and deepening the kiss. Giggling against his mouth, Marinette wraps her arms around his neck, pressing herself flush against him.

“Hello to you too,” Marinette murmurs, pulling away slightly. Her brow furrows when she sees the expression on his face, her smile dropping. “Adrien…?”

His face is shuttered, the shadow of a bruise on his cheek but when she lifts a hand, reaches up to touch it, he flinches away from her. “Adrien?” she asks again, swallowing down her unease “are you alright?”

“I am now that I have these.” Avoiding her gaze, he steps out of her embrace, holding up a hand and opening it to reveal something small in his palm.

Marinette blinks.

Something round. Two somethings—a pair— round and dark.

Something familiar .

Hands flying to her ears to confirm what she already knows, she laughs shakily. “Very funny, Adrien. Give them back.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“N —” her voice rises with panic “Adrien this isn’t a game!”

“It is, actually,” she stands, frozen to the spot as he circles her, his lip curling with contempt. “Did you really think that I meant any of this?” He laughs mockingly, leaning in to whisper in her ear “it was all just a game , so that I could get these silly little earrings from you.”

“No…No you’re lying.” Marinette stammers, even as her heart sinks, as she feels it crack in her chest. And still, she doesn’t want to believe it, can’t believe it. “Adrien, stop this, it isn’t funny anymore.”

He doesn’t respond, simply shakes his head and clicks his tongue in disapproval, walking slowly past her to the door.

Marinette doesn’t think, just acts, launching herself at his back and wrestling the earrings from his grasp. She doesn’t notice how easily he relinquishes them, aware only of the blood rushing in her ears, adrenaline coursing through her veins and she runs .

She doesn’t look back, doesn’t stop, not until she gets home, locking herself inside her room. Hands shaking uncontrollably, she struggles to put the earrings back on before giving up, throwing them across the room with a frustrated yell.

Stupidstupid she’d been so stupid to let herself fall for his tricks so easily. Had he laughed at her? When she had swooned into her pillow, recounting his affections, his words, had he gone home and mocked her with his father and brother, laughing at how quickly she had fallen into his lap?

The shattered pieces of her heart cut and slice at her insides until she can hardly breathe, agony unlike anything she’s ever felt before spiking through her; and as tears blur her vision, falling faster than she can wipe them away, Marinette half expects her eyes to be leaking blood.

***

He doesn’t see her for an entire month.

Adrien doesn’t particularly remember that first week after he breaks Marinette’s heart, the days blurring together in a constant haze of drunkenness and grief, but he does remember that he never saw her, even from a distance.

It’s better this way, he knows. Now Marinette is safe and at least father doesn’t know she is Ladybug, but he cannot forget the betrayal in her eyes, how he saw her heart shatter as he destroyed them in the worst possible way.

And yet, he can’t stay away.

“You’re not wearing your ring.”

It’s the first thing he notices, his eyes alighting on her hand as she exits the bar. The second thing he notices is how tired she looks. Her eyes are ringed with dark circles and her mouth a scarlet slash standing out in stark relief against her sallow cheeks.

And still she is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Marinette falters at the sight of him and then she freezes, squaring her shoulders and levelling him with a glare. “Why would I wear it?”

“Look, I just—” he doesn’t know what to say, and he watches helplessly, unable to reach out to her, acutely aware of the people father has watching him, following his every move.

“Save it,” she snarls, “I don’t believe a single word out of your mouth anyway.”

He sighs. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve worse.” Marinette starts off down the street, barely sparing him a second glance as she passes by him, her arm brushing against his slightly, sending a frisson of electricity running down his spine. “Actually, no—” she spins on her heel, eyes blazing. “I need to know—why did you do it?”

“I loved you. So so much,” her voice breaks and he yearns to reach out to her, to pull her into his embrace, hold her close and never let go. “With all my heart.” Marinette continues “and you...did you never love me at all?”

If I answer that question, then your love will pale in comparison , Adrien wants to say. He opens his mouth to speak, to say yes! Yes I loved you! I still do, but no words come out.

Marinette’s eyes fill with tears. “I guess that’s my answer then.”

This time when she leaves, she doesn’t look back.

***

Breathing heavily, Marinette spins her yo-yo as a shield, ducking out of the way of the akuma’s fist and circling around him. Stepping back slightly, she watches him warily, waiting for her next opening.

A quick movement catches her eye, a dark blur just behind the akuma and she struggles to maintain her focus, keeping the yo-yo aloft.

The fight has been going on for over three hours now, and her strength is flagging, the sight of Chat Noir enough to sap the last of her energy. She can’t fight him as well. Not now.

Maybe she could face Adrien—in fact, it would be preferable—but ever since that night, his brother had taken over Chat Noir’s duties, and Marinette doesn’t know his movements, his fighting style like she does Adriens.

She doesn’t have time to learn either. Not when the akuma—a butcher with an unlimited arsenal of deadly tools at his disposal—throws several sharp knives one after another in her direction.

Cursing Hawkmoth under her breath, she dodges the knives, leaping backwards and propelling herself onto the closest rooftop, narrowly avoiding the baton Adrien’s brother swings at her as she passes by him.

Struggling to catch her breath, she wipes the blood from her forehead, crawling over to the edge of the roof and surveying the street below. They’ve  emptied now, most people having retreated into their homes after the first few injuries. Some still linger, accidentally wandering into the battlefield and she has to keep an eye out, making sure to shepherd them away quickly before they get hurt.

She’s never seen so many civilian casualties in an attack before, and as she watches the akuma throw a giant cleaver, she is suddenly fiercely glad for her miraculous cure, even though she can feel her ribs throbbing in pain, knows that she will be bruised black and blue later.

Unbidden, Marinette remembers the reverent way that Adrien would trace her scars, would kiss them and ask about each one and she bites back a sob at the memory. She has new scars now—ones he can’t see, ones his brother gave her, and he will never know about them.

Part of her is glad. But every time she bandages herself after a fight, when she lies awake at night, in too much pain to sleep, she finds herself pretending-just for a moment-that it was real, that Adrien had meant it all, that the warmth he had provided her with-the safety- wasn’t just a farce.

She cries herself to sleep those nights.

Shaking her head, Marinette brings her attention back to the street below, her mind racing as she tries to figure out a plan of attack. Her thoughts are too jumbled though, and below her, the akuma roars once more, growing more agitated by the second.

There’s no time for a plan. Not if she wants to end this fast.

Swallowing hard, she gathers her courage and jumps down from the roof.

***

Adrien watches, his heart in his throat as Marinette narrowly avoids being thrown backwards like a ragdoll, getting out of the way just in time to only be knocked off her feet instead.

She stands, wobbling slightly and he knows it is only a matter of time until she is completely unable to fight. Not that it is much of a fight anyway-it’s been going terribly almost from the get go.

Father certainly knows what he’s doing. For the past week, each akuma has been more deadly than the last, and Adrien has watched from the sidelines as Marinette fights on two fronts—the akuma, and Félix.

He thinks of her scars, of how the cure cannot save her, how she is so close to losing now, growing weaker by the second. She won’t be healed, she can’t come back from this, I have to —

His brother vaults past where Adrien is standing. “Félix!” he hisses, reaching out and yanking on his baton.

Félix jerks back with a glare, his voice irritable. “What?”

“Give me the ring. We need to swap.”

“Are you mad?” Félix snorts. “Father’s angry at you. I’m not letting you get me in trouble too.”

“To hell with what father thinks!” Adrien yells “give it to me!”

Félix hesitates, sensing the seriousness of Adrien’s demand. Behind them, a sharp cry rings out and his head snaps back, seeing a young woman fallen on the street, her leg twisted at a sharp angle, clearly broken. Marinette’s seen her too. So has the akuma, reaching into it’s arsenal of weapons ready to take advantage of her distraction. Nonono —

Whipping back around, Adrien glares at his brother.

“Now!”

***

Looking around wildly, Marinette pulls the civilian's arm over her shoulder, half dragging, half carrying her off the street, searching for a safe place to leave her.

“Ladybug! Over here!” A voice calls out and she sees someone step out from the building in front of her, taking the young woman from her arms and hurrying back to safety.

Turning back around, she misses the look of horror that crosses his face.

And then she sees it.

Hurtling towards her—so fast that she can hear it whistling shrilly—is a giant honing steel moving so fast that she knows, even as she ducks, that it will hit her.

The whistling grows louder, a deafening scream filling her ears and she squeezes her eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

It never comes.

Instead, there is a sickening squelch , a muffled grunt turning into a guttural, pained yell. Opening her eyes,  she stares up at Chat Noir—not Félix but Adrien —standing with his back to her.

Standing impaled on the honing steel in front of her. Protecting her.

Scrabbling backwards, she watches as he falls—almost in slow motion—to his knees, a shocked gasp escaping from his lips when she reaches for him, lowering him carefully onto the ground.

Green eyes meet blue and a relieved smile breaks out across Adrien’s face, transforming his pained grimace.

“A -Adrien —” she stammers, clutching at him, careful not to jostle the steel embedded in his gut. “Why—what—”

“You deserve worse,” her own words echo in her mind, taunting her, and she lets out a sob, almost a scream, “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t—I didn’t mean—” She can’t hear anything over the blood thundering in her ears, isn’t aware of the battle raging around her as the entire world fades away to nothing, narrowing down until they are the only two people left.

“I know,” Adrien says, as if reading her mind. “It’s okay, I know. But know that...” He coughs, ignoring the blood that splatters his chin “that I didn’t mean it either. What I did.”

Marinette’s breath freezes in her lungs. “You—”

“Lied,” he nods, but the movement causes him to hiss in pain. “Sorry...I’m so sorry,” he wheezes, “I had to protect you. From my father. I had to—I had—”

“Shh, Adrien, no it’s okay,” she shushes him, falling silent as he grasps her hand, moving it so that it lays flat over his heart, where she can feel the faltering thump of it beneath her palm.

“ I love you,” he breathes, “I always have. I didn’t say it enough, but...” his fingers tighten almost painfully around hers, voice turning plaintive “you do believe me?”

“Yesyesyes—” Marinette nods madly, and with a flash she drops her transformation, uncaring of who might see her, desperate only for him to hold on, to show him—

Her fingers are slick with his blood, and it takes her several tries before she successfully pulls the chain out from under her dress, yanking it over her head. “See?” she shows him the ring, threaded through the chain “I never stopped wearing it, see?”

“I’m...I’m glad. Keep it for me, won’t you?”

The gemstone glints in the dying sunlight before dimming suddenly and she stifles a sob, knowing what comes next.

“Hey...hey—” breathing heavily, he moves with great difficulty, lifting his hand to cup her face “come here, doll,” she lets him guide her down until their faces are barely an inch apart. For a long moment, he simply stares at her, his green eyes roving over her face as though trying to memorise it.

Impulsively, she moves to kiss him then, one last time. It is meant to be a chaste kiss, but Adrien’s lips move against hers with a fervour that surprises her, his fingers tightening in her hair and she clutches at him, desperate to imprint every sensation of this last kiss into memory.

Pulling away, she sees the ghost of his signature smirk tugging at his lips, even as his breathing becomes more laboured “a kiss to remember me by, eh?”

Surprised, she laughs through her tears, stilling as carefully, he wipes them away, his thumb stroking her cheek. “No more tears, okay? No more tears.”

Pressing her lips together, Marinette nods jerkily, laying beside him and resting her head on his chest. With great effort, Adrien brings his arm around her shoulder, holding her close as he is able to and she closes her eyes, imagining they are back in their apartment, lying together in bed, the sheets tangled around their waists, the sun creeping along the floor through a crack in the curtains.

Marinette doesn’t hear the battle end. She doesn’t see his transformation fall, or his kwami drift to sit beside his head. She sees nothing, hears nothing as her tears mingle with his blood and she lies still, counting every last beat of his heart until finally, there is nothing left to count.

[imagine-darksiders]

Just like. Head canons. For our lovely Dad Guys. Whoever you want. Whatever you want. I don’t care. Just. The Fluff Beast. 😫 Getting too strong...! Help! (I’m sorry 😂 Seriously, just do whatever you want. It’ll be beautiful and I’ll love it regardless)

Well, I’ve had this little Eidad fic on the back burner for a while now, sitting in my drafts and not doing a while lot. This seems like a good time to post it <3 <3 <3 

It’s a sick fic. Nothing too drastic, just an old maker getting worried about his human friend. 

---

Eideard has always been an especially unflappable maker, a trait that tends to come with the territory of being the village elder.

He never gets flustered, and he always maintains the poise and composure expected of him.

Unless, of course, one of his fellow makers is under threat. Only then, by his own admission, does decorum fly out of the proverbial window and little else but worry takes over him, mind, body and soul.

Recently, he's come to discover that the same rule applies to a very specific, little human.

----

“I'm cold.”

That ought to have been their first clue.

You're sitting in the maker's forge, seemingly content to remain still and quiet beside the roaring fire whilst Alya and her brother, Valus, are hard at work at their anvil.

“Cold?” the former twin laughs incredulously, glancing up from the sword she's forging to turn and fix you with a raised brow, “You're sittin' close enough to that fire!”

Her brother though, always the more perceptive of the siblings, ambles around her and makes his way towards you, tugging at the green cowl that sits around his neck. You may be vastly smaller than him, but even behind that visor, he can see the shivers you're trying to suppress. Blinking, you watch him as he bends onto one knee in front of you and holds his treasured garment out, uttering a low, almost undetectable whine.

“I'm okay, big guy,” you murmur, sounding far from it, “Think I've just got a bit of a chill.”

At that, Valus doesn't wait for you to reach up and take the cowl from his grasp and instead, with a huff, he leans forward to drape it around your shoulders, his thick fingers tucking it up underneath you as carefully as he can. Once he's finished, he sits back on his haunches to inspect you, satisfied when you snuggle further into the fabric and give him a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Pacified, the burly maker returns your smile with a nod and pushes himself onto his feet, turning back to his sister and the anvil.

With their attention elsewhere, you allow your smile to fade, burying your face into Valus's scarf. 

You're loathe to tell them the whole truth, that accompanying your chills is a raw throat that feels as though it's been rubbed tender by sandpaper, and an ache in your limbs that only grows worse and worse by the hour.

There's no denying it.

You've come down with something.

At the very least, the makers don't know a lot about human biology, so you're relatively hopeful that you'll be able to pass this off as a mundane occurrence – definitely not anything they should be worrying about.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the giants, one that came about the moment they first laid eyes on you – a small, cowering little thing whose world had been destroyed only a few days prior.

The rule, never spoken aloud, yet understood by all, is that you are a youngling – despite your insistence to the contrary – and younglings are to be protected, especially those who have yet to reach their first century of life. 

It also doesn't help that you're a human, and consequently only stand about as high as the makers' knees.

But for as endeared to you as they all are, there are none who are quite so taken as Eideard.

The village Shaman, Muria, speculates that their elder has seen more younglings and friends die off over the centuries than any of them, and thusly, that's where his protective tendencies stem from.

Thane, on the other hand, attests that Eideard has always been enormously tender-hearted, long before grief softened his edges. 

If he were to find out that you're sick, you can't imagine he'd take it well.

Bottom line? You'd hate to worry him.

Unfortunately for you, there are some things that can't be kept from a group of watchful makers.

It's impossible to hide glassy eyes, tremors that rattle your whole body and a sudden, explosive sneeze that causes both Alya and Valus to jump out their skin, tools clattering to the stony ground.

“Stone's blood! Bit of warnin' before you go makin' noises like that, please!” Alya exclaims, resting a hand over her heart whilst Valus hurries over to you again.

“It was just a sneeze,” you try to protest, but the forge brother isn't buying it. Without a word, which isn't unusual, he clenches his fists and heaves himself about on a heel, marching purposefully towards the forge's entrance, deaf to his sister calling after him.

“Oi, Valus? Where are you off to?”

It's hardly a surprise that she doesn't get a response.

He disappears through the doors and you share a look with his sister, who hesitantly asks, “You.. sure you're okay?”

The fake smile you plaster on your face is apparently as unconvincing as it feels, judging by the flat look you receive from Alya in response. 

A few moments later, the doors swing open once again and your ears pick up two pairs of resounding footsteps thumping through the forge.

Valus appears first, lumbering up the short flight of steps onto the raised dais where he's soon followed by the second maker, a particularly concerned-looking Eideard.

As soon as the elder's pale, grey eyes lock onto you, you slump forwards in defeat, any hope of riding this illness out in privacy now dashed. Of all the makers in Tri Stone, Eideard is the most well-versed in anthropology.

Shooting Valus a glare for his betrayal, you swallow your cough and groan, “Valus, I told you, I’m okay. You didn't need to bother Eideard.”

“I for one, am very glad he did.” From underneath his bushy, furrowed brows, the old maker studies you closely until you duck your head, weighed down by the heaviness of his stare, the whole while, your throat burns with the need to cough. Then, in a blink, his eyes widen again and the fingers clutched around his golden staff turn white as he breathes, “You're sick...”

At once, Alya shoots upright from where she'd been leaning casually against the anvil. “Sick!?” she blurts, her gaze snapping between you and her elder, “Why didn't you say somethin'?!”

“Because!” you argue, hating that Eideard’s face now appears almost twice its age thanks to the worry lines permeating his forehead, “It's not a big de-” As fate would have it, the raw spot at the back of your throat finally chooses its moment, and before you can stop yourself, you're lurching forwards into a vicious cough that burns at the tenderness like acid, bringing tears to your eyes and shame onto your clammy cheeks.

You become vaguely aware of a vast hand coming to rest on your back and fingers that pat you gently until you can catch your breath. Even after you've hacked yourself silly, you push Eideard's silken, blue sleeve away and try to get to your feet, hoping that if they see you standing, they'll be less inclined to fret. But the moment you begin to move, the same hand is cupping around your trembling body and you find yourself being lifted up and nestled against a broad chest by a maker who is wholly undeterred by your feeble resistance. 

“I'm not a baby, Eideard!” you complain, trying to wriggle free as the maker presses delicately on your chest, forcing you to lay across his forearm, “Put me down! I can walk just fine.”

“Easy, now. You'll only hurt yourself further if you keep that up,” he rumbles in a tone that's far too gentle for your pride to withstand.

Embarrassed, you wilt down behind his fingers when you hear Alya's stifled giggles, but the old maker doesn't pay her any mind, simply turns away from the anvil and begins to shuffle down the steps, heading for the entrance. Almost immediately, you miss the fire's warmth and Eideard feels your shivers turn violent, his heart seizing at the sound of your teeth chattering together like rapid gunfire.

“You – you're not going outside, are you?” you croak, pulling Valus's cowl up to your neck, “It's freezing!”

“The weather is perfectly mild. You, on the other hand, are burning hotter than forge-fire.”

You open your mouth to protest but find yourself cut off when he continues, “I’ll not have this sickness turning into something worse. We may belong to separate species, but I wasn't born yesterday. A little fresh air will do you some good.”

“Ugh. You sound like my mum.”

His reply comes in the form of an affectionate, rumbling chuckle that you can feel travelling up through his palm and into your bones. Letting out a final huff, you flop backwards and turn limp in his hand.

It isn’t as though you can fight your way out of the Old One's grip, after all. For such an ancient maker, Eideard is powerful, and his age does little to detract from that strength. The meagre resistance you put up is also proven ineffective by the silken softness of the fur trim on his sleeves that you run between your fingers.

Perhaps if you'd been looking at Eideard's expression instead of the doors as he pushes them open, you'd take notice of the disquiet lingering at the edge of his eyes.

He plans on taking you to see Muria in the hopes that she might have a remedy that can alleviate the fever spreading through your delicate body, and, failing that, he will sit with you in the peace of the night air and keep you still and safe until your tremors cease and his old heart stops trying to beat its way out of his ribcage.

You're more than welcome to resent him for this, he muses quietly, but after seeing so many of his people lost to corruption, it isn't such an easy feat to quell the pervasive anxiety that writhes like an impatient, snarling beast in his stomach, and he would much rather endure your resentment if it means keeping you out of harm’s way.

The village elder is supposed to protect his own, and glancing down at you and seeing that you've buried your face into the fabric of his robe to escape the cold, Eideard realises with a sudden surge of paternal drive, that you fall under the scope of those he considers 'his.'

The old maker clutches you possessively against his chest and hurries as well as his tired legs can carry him up towards the Shaman's gazebo, knowing that his soul will never know peace until you’re well once again. 

[sevlgi]

believe

requested: no

group: blackpink

pairing: jisoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: guardian angel!jisoo, near death instances, unlucky reader. [22/33].

warnings: none

synopsis: You’ve never believed in guardian angels, but that just might change when you’re saved from certain death 3 times in one week.

a/n: idk if I’ve ever seen anyone do a similar au... tell me if you have! also i’m actually hella proud of this one lmao

word count: 1.8k

Do guardian angels exist?

Well, that’s a subjective question, and there really isn’t a yes or no answer... But if yours does, they’re doing the shittiest job of the century.

The amount of times you’ve been hurt in the past, both physically and emotionally, is stupidly high. You’ve always had an aptitude for getting injured, stories of broken bones and gashes making up basically half of your entire life. Your friends and family pride themselves on having a fully loaded arsenal of embarrassing tales, practically making it a rite of passage to visit the hospital with you. And don’t even mention the heartbreaks- those just seem to follow you wherever you go.

When you move to a different city for what must be the 10th time, you vow that it’s going to be different, no matter how obvious it is that it won’t. You vow that there aren’t going to be any incidents that land you in the hospital, nor any relationships that just end in chaos.

Suffice to say, all of that goes haywire on your first day in town.

Without a car to drive you to work or any friends to hitchhike off of, you take the subway, line #224 to Solace Building. There just so happens to be a new girl group song you’re obsessed with, blasting on the highest possible volume in your earbuds, when you’re shoved from the back right into the subway tracks. “Fu-”

Time slows down as you start to fall, the dusty railways coming too close to your face for comfort before a warm hand wraps around yours, the socket of your arm straining to carry your entire weight as you’re jerked back sharply.

You collide with a warm body, soft curves lessening the impact and delicate, impossibly strong hands steadying you on either side of your waist. By all logic, you should’ve knocked your savior over, should be sprawled on the ground right now with dirty palms and a heat-flushed face. “Are you okay?”

When you step back sharply, you’re met with the sight of the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life. Her heart-shaped smile and delicate features are framed with cascading brown hair, and she has ethereally flawless porcelain skin. She’s the kind of beautiful that makes the plainest outfit look designer, that could make you believe sea glass to be pure diamond. “Uh. Y-yeah. I’m good.”

“I’m glad,” she chuckles, smiling even wider and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Maybe she doesn’t realize the effect she has on you, humming as she dusts something invisible off your bag. “You should be more careful, Y/N, wouldn’t want someone as pretty as you being killed by a train.”

If it was anyone else, the words would sound creepy, especially with the added factor of the girl knowing your name. “How-- how do you know who I am?”

She juts her lips at the card hanging off your bag, your name written in big, bold letters. “Nametag. Y/N Y/L/N, employee in Solace Building?”

To hide the heat in your cheeks, you look to the floor and stutter out, “Well. Since you know my name, uh, isn’t it fitting that I know yours?”

It’s not nearly as smooth as you’d like it to be-- usually, the natural flirt in you would’ve made an appearance-- but the petite brunette extends a hand, tipped with gentle pink nails. “Jisoo. Kim Jisoo, if that’s helpful at all.”

Your next words are interrupted by your train arriving; when Jisoo doesn’t follow you on, you turn to look at her with your eyebrow quirked. “Are you...?”

“Not my train,” she smiles, shaking her head, even though it’s the only one arriving for hours where she stands. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Stay out of trouble!”

It’s an odd way to end a first meeting, but you don’t think much of it as you grab the nearest seat and pull out your phone to search her up. K-I-M J-I-S-O-O, you type, eyes scanning the screen fervently as the train starts.

Plenty of people show up-- after all, Kim Jisoo is not a rare name-- but none of the dozens of profiles you click through are the beautiful girl who saved your life. It’s too late when you look back out the window towards the station, the only thing you see becoming brick wall.

The next time you almost die, you’re just walking to the coffee shop across from your apartment.

The activity should be safe, considering that not many people in the area own cars. At first, you think you are safe, crossing the silent street with no problem and receiving your usual order just fine; you’re on your way back to your lonely little apartment when you hear the screeching of car tires on the road.

“Watch out!” someone screams, but you’re frozen in the middle of the crosswalk. You forget how there wasn’t a single car in the street when you were crossing as you stare at the grill coming close. The car doesn’t stop or slow down, and you scrunch your eyes shut with your arms raised up, just waiting for the impact.

It never comes. When you hesitantly open your eyes again, you find a familiar figure standing in front of you, the force of her hand having knocked your coffee onto your blouse. The car bumper is pressing into her bare leg, which is miraculously clean of a scratch or bruise, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she turns to grin at you.

“Sorry, I ruined your coffee,” Jisoo frowns, her hand coming up to almost touch the steaming stain on your chest. You stare at her mutely, following obediently when she grabs your wrist and pulls you back to the coffee shop. “Can I buy you another one?” she offers, plucking a napkin off a street-side table.

“Kim Jisoo?” you say disbelievingly, not even feeling it as she dabs the coffee away. “You again?”

“Me again,” she confirms, pulling some more napkins out of her purse with a smile on her face. “I hope you’re not disappointed; after all, I just saved you from dying. Again.”

“No, that’s not...” Taking a deep breath, you smile too, wrapping your fingers around her hand to gently brush her off. “It’s okay. I’m glad to see you, actually-- I searched for your profile to thank you, but I couldn’t find anything.”

Jisoo shrugs, opening the door to the coffee shop for you. “Oh, I’m not really on social media. If you wanted my number, you could’ve just asked.”

You laugh lightly, tossing the crushed cup in your hand into the trash. Of course it’s odd that she isn’t on social media in the 21st century-- with her face, you’d expect Jisoo to be a major influencer. “Then I’ll ask for it. Later.”

“Of course. Order what you want, I owe you one after all that,” she offers, plucking a couple loose 20 dollar bills out of her purse.

Once again, you’re faced with another weird habit of hers, but you order anyway and thank her after she pays. Before you can say anything else, though, she gets a text and frowns at her phone. “Oh, sorry, I have to go. Catch you next time?”

“Sure,” you answer, forgetting to tell her that she still forgot to give you her number. You stand dumbly on the sidewalk and watch her go, taking a deep breath and looking both ways before you set off towards your apartment for the second time that day.

Maybe next time?

The third, and hopefully last time, is the absolute weirdest of all. 

You seem to have a thing for being knocked into ditches-- this time, a group of teenagers barrels into you while you’re walking by the side of the only river in your entire city. You open your mouth to tell them off, but before you can, an especially hard shove from an stocky little boy pushes you right into the water.

Luckily, the fall isn’t high, so you don’t hit the water with much force, but the boats cruising along and the recently terrible weather stir the current strong enough to pull you right under. In the icy water, you feel your fingers let go of the phone in your hand, your lungs slowly being crushed by the pressure of your surroundings.

It’s hard to tell how much time passes while you’re in the water. From what your doctors have told you, trauma is difficult to remember clearly for a while, but you vaguely feel hands linking in front of your chest and forearms bracing under your armpits to drag you out of the water.

The heat of the summer sun warms the stone under your back and you can hear whispers sounding around you as you flop onto the floor. Hands push hard on your breastbone, once, twice-

After maybe 30 pushes, fingers pinch your nose, and soft lips meet yours. It feels more like a kiss than CPR, no air really being blown into your mouth, but nonetheless, you feel water leaving your lungs, and you open your eyes in shock, coughing out loud.

To your (somewhat) shock, it’s the same girl hovering over you. Jisoo’s skirt is wet at her knees where she kneels beside you, her hands still hovering over your chest. She must’ve been the one giving CPR, then. Sitting up, you hack violently until most of the water’s out of your lungs, the other girl waving away all of the spectators. “How’re you feeling?” she asks, once you’re alone on the sidewalk.

Your hands move faster than your brain, pulling her forward by the nape of her neck until you kiss again, something about her tasting familiar in a way you can’t quite place. “Who are you?” you breathe once you’ve pulled away, searching her warm eyes for an answer.

She smiles again, handing you your miraculously dry phone instead of answering. It should be waterlogged and dead, but nothing seems to make sense when concered with Kim Jisoo. “How about you take me for dinner or something before asking the serious questions? Soup should be good to warm you up.”

Hand clasping in hers, you’re pulled to your feet with strength that doesn’t match her petite stature. You barely remember that you look like an almost-drowned rat, your lips purple with cold and your hair stringy with icy water. “Sure. Soup. But you need to answer me first.”

She exhales, hitching her bag higher up on her arm. “I’d say I’m your guardian angel, but you wouldn’t believe that, would you?”

“I wouldn’t,” you answer, eyes narrowing as you follow her down the street. “But maybe you can convince me. Over soup.”

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

Fluffy shoni prompt: Toni taking care of a sick Shelby 🥺

Thanks! I love writing for these two :’)

--------

Toni comes home to a dark apartment. The blinds are closed. The lights are off. Even the air seems stiller than usual. She chucks off her shoes, and quietly makes her way to the bedroom, where she finds Shelby, asleep, under a pile of blankets. There’s a mountain of tissues on the bedside table, three dirty mugs, an empty pack of almond cookies, a bowl of half-eaten, congealed oatmeal, a huge bottle of Ibuprofen, and, at the foot of the bed, a pile of the old vintage comics Martha got Toni for her birthday, the very ones Shelby always makes fun of her for liking. Who’s the nerd, now? Toni thinks, with a small smile, as she steps over various discarded items of clothing to get to the bed.

The mess doesn’t surprise her. Contrary to appearances, Shelby isn’t a particularly organized person, and though she makes an effort to keep their shared space clean and orderly, that tends to disappear completely when she gets stressed or, in that case, sick. Toni, on the other hand, is very tidy. When you grow up in foster care, without much to your name, you quickly learn the habits that are least likely to get you in trouble, or to get your stuff confiscated, or stolen. So the first thing Toni does, before even checking on Shelby, is push the mound of tissues into the wastebasket. Then she puts away clothes and comics, and collects mugs and leftovers, bringing them back to the kitchen to deal with later. 

When she comes back into the bedroom, Shelby’s eyes are open, and she looks contrite. “I’m sorry you had to clean all of that,” she croaks out, trying to sit up. Toni takes a seat on the bed, beside her, and gently pushes against her shoulders until Shelby lies back down against the propped pillows. 

“Don’t worry about it.” She brushes blond hair away from Shelby’s sweaty forehead, rubs at the spot between her eyebrows. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Shelby says, “but I’ll be okay.” She smiles, weakly. Toni bends down to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Has the fever gone down at all?”

“I think so,” Shelby says. She coughs, a bit, then exhales shakily. “I’m definitely a bit less woozy than I was this morning, so that’s nice.”

“Good. I’ll give you a couple more pills with dinner, and hopefully you’ll be fever-less by tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” Shelby frowns. “Toni, I don’t know if I’m up for eating.”

“Well, you have to. You need some energy if you’re gonna beat that nasty flu.��� Toni’s voice grows a bit higher, and she adopts the no-nonsense tone of Dot as she says, in a perfect imitation of their friend : “Lots of liquids, lots of rest, and make sure she eats something, that should do the trick.”

“You called Dot?” Shelby reacts, her eyes widening. “Gosh, Toni, you shouldn’t have, now she’s gonna be all worried.”

“Please,” Toni snorts. “I was worried. Dot just listened to me ramble on the phone all panicky for, like, a full minute, before telling me it was”-- she makes quotation marks with her fingers --” just the flu and I needed to get a grip and go buy chicken soup.” She ends the quotation marks. “Which I did, by the way, I stopped by Trader Joe’s on my way from work. Got you some juice too, and even some ice cream - pistachio, your favorite - to help with the sore throat.”

Shelby raises a hand, and touches Toni’s shoulder, fingers trailing down her arm until they circle Toni’s wrist. She gives her a light squeeze. “You were worried?” she asks, and her voice is hoarse, but there’s a smile stretching her lips. “About me?”

Toni rolls her eyes. “Duh! Of course, I was worried. It’s almost like I love you or something.”

But Shelby’s smile doesn’t go away. “It’s sweet,” she murmurs. “You’re so sweet.” Toni’s heart flutters in her chest, a little. They’ve been together for years, but Shelby complimenting her still somehow affects her just like it did in the beginning. It makes her feel alive, and loved, hearing the fondness in Shelby’s voice. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Shelby says, still holding onto Toni’s wrist. Her eyes are bright in the semi-darkness of the room. Toni moves her arm so she can bring the back of Shelby’s hand up, close to her mouth, and she presses a light kiss onto her knuckles.  

“Always, Shelby, you know that.”

Shelby smiles, and opens her mouth, but whatever she was about to say is interrupted by a horrible coughing fit. Toni props her up and rubs her back as she wheezes and hacks and gasps, and her fingers tighten around Toni’s wrist, almost painfully, but Toni doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t make a sound. When it’s over, Shelby rests her forehead against Toni’s shoulder, catching her breath. Toni slips a hand under Shelby’s shirt, presses her palm against Shelby’s spine, hoping the touch will help her calm down. “You’re okay,” she whispers into Shelby’s hair.

“I hate feeling like this,” Shelby groans. 

“I know, I know. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Come on, let’s get you back in bed, you can rest till dinner.” Slowly, carefully, she moves Shelby back into a lying position, her back against the pillows. Shelby’s eyes open, with some difficulty, and she looks up at Toni. “Will you stay with me?” she asks, voice gravelly. Then she tries to shrug. “Sorry, I know I’m being super needy right now..”

“Babe,” Toni cuts her off, shaking her head. “Of course, I’ll stay with you.” She climbs into bed with Shelby, and curls up on her side, one arm across Shelby’s stomach, and her head resting on Shelby’s chest, under her chin. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best girlfriend?” Shelby mumbles, sleepily. 

“Hmmm, I think that’s just the fever talking,” Toni jokes, her tone light, and she feels the rumble of Shelby’s laughter against her cheek. Shelby’s hand comes to rest on her waist, pressing them closer together. 

“Go to sleep,” Toni says, low and soft. “I’m here.”

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

Fictober ‘21 Prompt No. 1 — “I need you.”

Category: Original WIP: WASTE Rating: T Timeline: Not too long after Guetry has been implanted with Scotty CW: None Word Count: 1,142 Additional Notes: I love exploring the relationship between these two.

***

Guetry stared through the opening of the mine shaft, flat on his back across austere stone. His eyes were not focused on the night sky painted with diamonds and the rich purple of wines made in his vineyard, as it would have appeared to a bystander. His attention was, instead, zeroed in on the small hole in the visor of his helmet, currently sending the HUD into hysterics and draining him of air with each passing second.

“S...Scotty,” he choked.

“You have twenty minutes before asphyxiation,” Scotty said. Matter-of-fact, directly in his ear, as always. Even in the face of fatality. “I cannot seal the breach as my connection to your equipment has been severed.”

Despite the situation, his cadence did somewhat have a soothing effect.

Guetry closed his eyes and reached up to assess the extent of the damage to the helmet. “What do I do?” he asked. His chest heaved under the breastplate of his armor as he attempted to steady his breath and not waste what little oxygen he could get. “What...what do I do? What button, what switch...?”

“I have no connection to your team.” Scotty sputtered violet in the corner of Guetry’s eye. “Other than the automatic distress signal that went out as soon as your visor sustained damage.”

“Shit...shit.” Guetry rolled himself onto his side, scrambling for purchase on solid ground. “Twenty m—twenty minutes. Twenty minutes.”

“There’s been some trauma to your implant as well, as I’m certain you can discern for yourself.”

Guetry’s frantic gaze darted around the shaft, desperate for an escape or something to close the breach before he blacked out. “Scotty...please stop telling me things that are up—upsetting to me.”

“The fall into the mine cracked the back of your helmet open. The damage is permanent.”

“What the hell did I just say,” Guetry wheezed. He yanked the helmet off his head with shaking hands and threw it farther into the mine.

“Are you in pain?”

“I don’t know. I can’t feel most of anything right now.” Guetry took a few sharp breaths. “You gotta keep me going until someone gets here, or until I get out of here, whichever comes first.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Guetry tried to drag himself closer to the entrance, but his arms had already begun to fail him. “Scotty, I don’t plan on dying today. Keep...keep my brain alive or something. Do literally anything.”

“My designation doesn’t work in that way. I can’t sustain you when there isn’t sufficient oxygen.” Scotty paused as Guetry gave up in the center of the opening and collapsed onto his stomach. “I also don’t think I made myself clear. I’m unable to access life support.”

Guetry went still. “Do something.”

“Guetry—”

“I need you. Please.”

Scotty once again fell silent. “I will attempt to contact your team again.”

With strength he was surprised he had at the moment, Guetry pushed himself onto his back. “Hey, if I...” He broke out into a hacking cough as his lungs strained to sap oxygen out of the air. “If I don’t make it, send my sisters...and my dad a message.”

“When I am tethered to you, the event of your death will permanently deactivate me.”

Nodding, Guetry swallowed. He opened the front pouch of his supply kit and withdrew a flare. “Tell my sisters and my dad that I love you.”

“You love...them?”

Guetry ripped the packaging of the flare open with his teeth, the edges of his vision turning black. He took a couple shallow breaths. “Yeah. We can pretend that’s what I meant.”

He raised the flare and fired it straight through the opening of the mine. A single flash of red light exploded upward, carried a bit by the gaseous wind of the planet’s surface before disappearing into the sky.

“Think they saw it?” Guetry asked weakly, hand dropping onto his chest.

Scotty didn’t answer.

Guetry's eyes grew heavy. “Don’t...don’t give up on me. Not now.”

“I could say the same.”

“Say it, then.”

“Don’t give up on me, Guetry.”

Guetry watched a dark blur move over the mine entrance. The words echoed in his mind repeatedly until he was no longer conscious.

---

He awoke again in a bed, clocking before he even opened his eyes that he was in a med fac somewhere. He’d been in enough of them to pinpoint them by smell alone.

Dazia’s tired face turned to him from her spot in the chair across the room. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Oh, shit,” Guetry groaned, bringing a ginger touch to his forehead as a headache slammed into him with the force of a meteor.

“Good to see you, too, jackass.”

“Did you pull me out of that mine?” Guetry peeked at her through his fingers, avoiding the harsh light.

Dazia nodded. “Yep. Your little stunt sent Tux into a panic spiral so I had to pick up the slack.”

“It did not,” the nuaclan said from the other side of the room.

Guetry laughed even though it hurt his throat. “The only thing that would send Tux into a panic spiral is if someone took so long to get rid of my body that it implicated her.” He turned to look at her with a grin. “Ain’t that right, baby girl?”

Tux rolled her eyes, but the smirk stretching across her wide face said enough. “Idiot.”

“They had to take Scotty for a bit,” Dazia said. “It won’t be for much longer. NodeSource fixed your implant—they’re just running diagnostics to make sure everything’s square.”

“Okay. That explains the migraine.” Guetry nodded, a hand coming up to his temple on instinct. His fingers knocked into the cable leading out of his port and into a terminal next to his bed, likely operating to take over a fraction of what Scotty maintained. “He deserves a wellness check.”

When they were united later, after his doctor and a NodeSource technician made sure everything functioned normally and after Guetry had started a game of solitaire on his bed, he sighed into the empty room, eyes following the cable attaching him to the computer.

“Is everything alright?” Scotty asked.

“Yeah, man.” Guetry sniffed. He turned a card over. “Just...hope you don’t make a habit out of scaring me.”

He detected a hint of hesitation. “I won’t.”

“...I guess I owe you an apology, too.”

“Not for doing your job, you don’t.”

Guetry cracked a small smile. “I could say the same.”

“Then say so.”

He glanced through the two-way viewscreen affording him a look out into the hospital corridor while granting him privacy. Doctors, nurses, and patients milled about, some in more of a hurry than others.

“I’ll do my best not to worry you too much,” he finally said.

“Worry is not within my programming.”

“Nah.” Guetry’s smile widened. “Don’t buy it.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while.

[riotwritesthings]

Ode to Yoga Pants

OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony

AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Title: Ode to Yoga Pants Collaborator Name: Riot Bucky Barnes Bingo Square Filled: K5, Team Dynamics StarkBucks Bingo Square Filled: O5, “I’d like it if you stayed.” Ship/Main Pairing: WinterIron Rating: M Major Tags & Triggers: Mutually pining morons, humor Summary: OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun Word Count: 2,282

Here on AO3!

-

Tony is heading to the gym for Steve’s newly mandated team training time and yeah, he’s late, but he does have coffee. So at least he’s on brand.

It looks like everyone else has beat him here, which isn’t really surprising, and Tony tosses out a grin and wave in response to the unimpressed look Steve shoots him.

Then his eyes land on Bucky. Who is doing one armed pushups. Completely vertically, pointed toes up in the air and strands of hair falling loose around his face where it’s come loose from the hair tie. And he is in yoga pants.

They hug his calves, his ass, his thighs, tight black spandex with gray piping up sides and Tony is weak.

Forget team bonding, Tony needs to get out of here right now, before he makes a fool of himself. Except he spins too quickly, hot coffee sloshing over the rim of his mug and onto his fingers, and he’s so busy hissing over the sharp burst of pain that he walks straight into the door as it swings shut.

“Ack, fuck,” Tony gasps, more hot coffee splashing out across his hand, rubbing at his forehead and apparently he’s a little dizzy because he goes to take a step back and tilts to the side instead, bouncing off the wall.

He’s almost caught his balance, and then he trips over Sam’s stupid jump rope, and then his thighs hit the weight bench and he tumbles backwards over it, the last dregs of his coffee somehow ending up entirely on his chest.

“Damnit Wilson,” Tony grumbles, “I knew you were out to get me!”

There’s a soft chuckle from somewhere above him, and Tony pries his eyes open. He’s half expecting to see Sam, ready to defend himself and deny that he’s trying to kill Tony with workout equipment even though he very clearly is.

Instead it’s Bucky, leaning over him all shirtless and sweaty and concerned.

“You okay, doll?”

When Tony tries to speak all that comes out is a strangled gurgling sound, and Bucky’s concerned look gets deeper.

-

“Gross, they’re doing it again,” Sam complains, pausing mid situp to shoot a glare across the gym.

When Steve glances away from sparring with Natasha she takes the opportunity to pop him in the throat.

“This isn’t even funny anymore,” Natasha says while Steve coughs and hacks and gives her a dirty look.

“It stopped being funny weeks ago,” Rhodey says as he leans against the ropes of the boxing ring and shakes his head in disappointment.

“You’re just saying that because that’s when you were officially out of the betting pool,” Clint says with a snort.

“I really didn’t think it would take them this long,” he says with a morose sigh, “I’m ashamed.”

Steve makes a sound that might be agreement.

“New bet, how much worse can it possibly get?” Sam tries to joke, but he has a terrible feeling that it’s not a joke at all.

“I think we’re all the losers in that bet,” Natasha says as they all watch Bucky help a still clearly-swooning Tony out of the gym.

The poor pining morons don’t even notice they have an audience. Just like Bucky somehow doesn’t notice that Tony is literal putty in his hands, and Tony mysteriously doesn’t notice Bucky giving him the sappiest heart eyes ever.

It’s shameful, is what it is.

-

Tony lets Bucky drag him into the kitchen, sinks onto one of the stools when gently pushed in that direction, and he’s becoming uncomfortably aware that his shirt is still splattered with cooling coffee and probably clinging to his chest.

He should probably go change, and then maybe go hide out somewhere until he figures out how to deal with Bucky in yoga pants.

But before Tony can figure out how to convince his legs to actually move, Bucky is done digging around in the freezer and by his side again.

“Ow,” Tony says with an exaggerated wince as Bucky presses a bag of ice to the back of his head, and then nearly melts out of his seat when Bucky shushes him with a wide palm running down the back of his neck.

He’s not actually as rattled as Bucky seems to think he is, but Tony certainly isn’t going to correct him. It’s a much safer excuse than admitting his brain went to mush the second he saw Bucky’s thighs, all wrapped up and accentuated in tight black spandex, and it still hasn’t quite come back online.

From here, with Bucky standing beside him and gently holding his head still while Tony stares studiously at the floor, all Tony can see of Bucky is his foot. The tight black fabric ends just above the delicate bones of his ankle, his bare toes wiggling against the tile floor as he pulls the ice away and inspects Tony’s head.

Forget getting his brain working again, Tony is just trying to keep his stupid heart from crawling its way up his throat over ankles. Like some kind of repressed Puritan, Jesus.

Which means he can’t at all stop himself from nervously stuttering out “Those-those are uh, nice... you like yoga pants huh?”

There’s a vague sense of motion beside him, like Bucky is shrugging, as he says “They’re comfortable.”

“Uh huh, they-“ Tony starts to say, and then nearly swallows his tongue when Bucky steps around in front of him again.

His eyes automatically drag upwards, and it takes everything Tony has not to let himself linger, not to get caught staring at the frankly mouthwatering bulge of Bucky’s cock that his skin tight leggings are not doing a very good job of hiding.

He jerks his gaze up higher and it doesn’t help because oh god there’s Bucky’s chest, still bare and so close and by the time he finally manages to make himself look up at Bucky’s face he can’t breathe.

“They- uh, s-sure look it,” Tony stutters out, and furious blushing is totally a symptom of a concussion, right?!

Bucky’s smile stays warm and friendly, so he’s probably alright.

And all Bucky says is “You should try them! I can send you the site I got ‘em from, Nat recommended it to me.”

“Okay,” Tony squeaks and damnit he’s actually going to have to buy some yoga pants now. There’s no other way to play off his sudden fascination with them.

-

A week later, everyone has lost the bet.

They find the two morons asleep together on the couch, legs tangled and blankets wrapped around them both.

The entire team agrees it’s the most disgusting thing they’ve ever seen.

-

Steve is taking his frustrations out on a punching bag when Bucky suddenly ducks behind the bag, grabbing it and holding it still so he can hide behind it.

“What is this, why are you doing this?” Steve demands, rhythm thrown and half-debating just punching the bag anyways in the hopes that it’ll shake Bucky loose.

“Steve,” Bucky hisses, like he somehow hasn’t noticed that he already has Steve’s full attention, “Steve, I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky’s head pops out from around the punching bag, eyes fixed on something across the gym as he hisses “Tony bought yoga pants.”

Steve turns and sure enough, Tony and Natasha are standing near the sparring mats in matching black and gray patterned spandex.

“Does Nat get money every time she talks someone into buying those?” Steve has to wonder, because she has been relentlessly texting him the link too.

“Steve,” Bucky hisses again, “Steven. I can’t- how do I even- Steve-“

“What?!” Steve demands impatiently, because he really wants to go back to punching things, and not thinking about the awkward mating dance of his best friends.

“Look at his ass!”

Steve huffs and resists the urge to gag at the open reverence in Bucky’s tone. He does turn though, just in time to watch Tony bend over in a low stretch.

“Perfect little bubble, I just wanna bury my face in it and live there,” Bucky sighs.

“Huh,” Steve says, tilting his head a little to get a better view because damn, Bucky is not exactly wrong- “Ow!” He squawks when Bucky swings the punching bag into him, “you’re the one who told me to look!”

“Not like that!” Bucky snaps back. It looks like he’s considering hitting Steve with the punching bag again, and Steve holds up a single finger in warning.

“Do not,” he says sternly.

Bucky settles for just hugging the bag instead, gaze already drifting across the gym again. Steve has a terrible feeling he’s not going to get back to his workout.

“Please just ask him out,” Steve says plaintively, “pretend to act like a functional person.”

“How am I supposed to function when faced with The Most Amazing Ass Ever™️?!” Bucky demands, and then makes a weird whimpering sound as Tony no doubt does something. Like existing.

Steve refuses to look over, instead just sighing out “Get off my punching bag, you’re making this so weird.”

“I’m filin’ a complaint,” Bucky says, clearly not listening to him anymore and still staring with rapt attention at where Tony is apparently doing something fascinating. “These pants are supposed to be ‘super stretchy’ but they clearly did not count on boners cuz my dick is strangled.”

“Excuse me,” Steve says, already walking away, “I need to go vomit.”

Hell, next week he might skip mandatory team training.

-

Tony is laying on his stomach on the common room floor, propped up on his elbows as he pokes at his phone and kicks his feet lazily in the air.

He’s wearing bright red yoga pants today, and even Clint is not immune.

He catches himself after a couple seconds of staring at the swell and bounce of Tony’s ass, and gives himself a vigorous shake. That’s a good way to earn the Winter Soldier Death Glare.

Even if said Winter Soldier is too much of a disaster to actually do anything about his super obvious crush.

“So are yoga pants just the new thing?” Clint asks, climbing over the back of the couch and keeping his eyes safely on Tony’s face, because he does not want to be assassined to death today. “You’re just gonna wear them all the time?”

“They’re comfortable,” Tony says with an absent shrug, then grins up at Clint and wiggles his eyebrows as he adds “Plus, they make my ass look great.”

And Clint can’t exactly argue that, so instead he just flatly says “You’re going to give Barnes a heart attack.”

Tony looks confused for a split second, and then smiles widely.

“Because I pull them off so much better than he does?” he asks, striking a pose, and Clint seriously considers running away to join the circus. Again.

He’s not even sure if things will actually be better if they eventually get together at this point.

He should make that the new bet.

-

“I’m just saying,” Tony insists, and then raises his voice when Steve put his head down on the table and starts humming under his breath, “If I thought Bucky was actually interested, I would 100% be here for him. With open arms-“

“Well that’s actually kind of-“

“And open legs-“

“Tony-“

“And an open mouth,” Tony finishes, grinning and winking when Steve looks up at him with a glare.

“Tony, please, I don’t want to hear this,” Steve says, hands over his ears and he does actually look a little green.

“This is nothing,” Tony says with a scoff, giving Steve an unimpressed look, because he is weak. “You should hear the shit I say to Rhodey.”

“I would like to hear those things,” says a voice directly behind him.

Tony freezes, his entire body going cold, because he knows that low, warm, rumbling voice. He hears it in his dreams, and oh no oh no oh no, now Bucky knows.

So much for his plausible deniability.

His brain kind of goes staticy with panic for a second, and he’s only dimly aware of Steve rolling his eyes.

“Yeah my part in this conversation is done,” Steve says, and promptly bails.

When Tony’s brain finally reboots he finds that Bucky has taken Steve’s seat across the kitchen table.

Bucky is also just grinning at him, like he doesn’t find Tony’s borderline-obsessive crush at all creepy.

All Tony can think to say is “What.”

And then he realizes he doesn’t actually want an answer, doesn’t want to find out if Bucky is going to make fun of him, or if he thinks it’s all a joke. He can’t decide if that would actually be better or worse than being turned down gently, and he doesn’t intend to stay and find out.

“I’m just...” Tony sputters, face burning as he flails his way out of his chair, “Gonna- gonna go. Run away. Yep.”

“Wait,” Bucky says, eyes wide and halfway out of his own chair.

Tony freezes, because Bucky looks a lot like he feels. Thrown, surprised, confused and so hopeful that it’s terrifying.

“I-I’d like it if you stayed,” Bucky says slowly, then smiles crooked and nervous as he adds “Not that I don’t like watchin’ you walk away.”

It startles a laugh out of Tony, face flushing as he sinks back into his chair. “Okay,” he says, heart racing and smile almost painfully wide, “um, what?”

Bucky laughs, soft and low and warm, and finally finishes reaching across the table to take Tony’s hand in his own.

-

Clint wins the bet on how much worse their lives get once the love-struck morons start making out all over the place.

[everybodyscupoftea]

santa doesn’t squat

pike jj x reader 

christmas tree farm shenanigans

(warnings: cursing, zero editing even a little)

“Guys,” Cody pulled a piece of paper out of his booksack, “I found the coolest thing.”

You glanced up from your ethics book, eyebrows raised, “What’s that?”

“Christmas tree farm, but for families!”

JJ sat up where he had slumped down on his desk, “Bro, we can’t get a tree.”

“No, I know. It’s stupid, they should let us get one for the house, but whatever.”

You snapped to get his attention, “Focus up, bud. I got a test tomorrow, when do you wanna go to this?”

“The weekend after finals. I just don’t want anyone to go home before we get to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” JJ hummed, “so I’m in.”

“Same,” you added.

Cody beamed, “Sweet, I can’t wait! Going to find Tyler, see you guys.”

-

Finals week came and went, and you kind of forgot about the whole Christmas tree farm thing. Until you and JJ woke up early Saturday morning to a loud banging on your apartment door. Jolting upright, you looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was wrong.

JJ was a little slower, but once he processed, got out of bed and walked slowly to the door, grabbing your baseball bat on the way. You watched, peeking out your room cautiously, as he looked through the peephole.

He relaxed and yanked the door open, “What the fuck, asshole?”

Cody’s voice responded, “Rise and shine, friends, we’re getting breakfast before the Christmas tree farm.”

Your shoulders sagged with relief, and you fully stepped out of your room, “You couldn’t have, I don’t know, called us?”

He shrugged, “Nah, this was way more effective. Now, I’m going to sit on the couch until you two are ready to go.” Cody shoved his way past JJ and plopped down, reaching for your TV remote, “Hurry up, folks. Breakfast reservation in 45 minutes.”

JJ rolled his eyes and trudged to your bathroom, and you turned back to your room to start getting dressed.

Much to Cody’s happiness, the two of you were ready in about 20 minutes. He sighed in relief, “Thank god, Tyler bet we’d be late, so I should be winning $20 thanks to you guys.”

You and JJ chose to not respond as you followed Cody out of the apartment to his car. Cody put on his Christmas playlist as soon as he cranked up the car and pulled out of the parking lot, headed toward the breakfast place you and JJ frequently went on Sunday mornings.

“Holy shit,” JJ muttered, “this place is packed on Saturdays.”

“Hence the reservation,” Cody sassed.

“Bitch,” JJ started.

You stepped in between them, “Boys, please. Cody, don’t antagonize JJ before he’s had coffee. JJ don’t let Cody get to you, you know he’s a morning person.”

“It’s unnatural,” JJ muttered, but listened to you anyway.

Tyler was already inside at a booth and waved when the three of you walked in. He had three mugs of coffee on the table, and JJ slid in opposite of him, immediately reaching for it. Cody rolled his eyes, “Dramatic.”

“Let me drink it in peace or I’ll bully you all day.”

“Bully me? What are we, in high school?”

“I’ll whack you so hard you’ll go back in time.”

You sighed, “Pack it up Biff, and drink your fucking coffee.”

“I’m choosing to not try and figure out what you’re referencing,” JJ sniffed.

“It’s Back to the Future,” Tyler volunteered, and you nodded.

Just like normal, they were quick to get you in and out, much to Cody’s happiness. You’d never seen him so excited about something in months, which you were a bit curious about. Eventually, after he had to stop for the third time to let the rest of you catch up, you asked, “What’s got you so excited, bud?”

“I haven’t done anything like this since I left Michigan, haven’t even thought to look really, but I saw the flier in Dunkin so I grabbed it.”

“Let’s do it then,” JJ told him, squeezing his shoulder.

-

It was busy as fuck, which to be fair, should’ve been expected since it was early on a Saturday. Cody grabbed you by the hand, “Let’s go do ornaments.”

The ornaments station was clearly for children and not four, exhausted college seniors, but the lady in charge didn’t give a fuck and let you all sit down. 

“Have crayons always been this small?” Tyler mused, picking through them to find the color he wanted for his reindeer. 

“You trying to flex big hands?” JJ asked, more focused on his angel than Tyler’s answer.

Tyler smirked, “Let’s just say I’m having a harder time than you are with the crayons.”

You swooned, “Oversized hands? Why am I with JJ?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I made my moves.”

JJ paused, “You leaving me?”

“No,” you sighed, “I’m just a little too attached.”

Cody focused on coloring his Christmas tree. He was going into great detail, adding ornaments and lights. His tongue was sticking out the corner of his mouth as he colored in the star on top, and you had to take a picture.

He pouted when you all finished, “I don’t have a bag and now we have to carry these.”

“Let me put them in my pocket,” Tyler offered.

“They’ll bend.”

“They might rip or get dirty if I don’t.”

With a sigh, he relented, “Fine. But let’s go to the petting zoo next.”

“Petting zoo?” you asked incredulously, looking around.

“They have reindeers and shit.”

Sure enough, a small petting zoo was located a little further in with a chair for Santa nearby. Cody looked at the three of you, standing by one of the reindeer, “So, guys. What if we took a picture with Santa.”

“We definitely should,” JJ agreed immediately.

“You gonna tell him you’ve been a good boy?” Tyler asked.

Cody winked, “Maaaybe.”

And clearly, the four of you had been talking too loudly, because Santa was staring. You shoved Cody in his direction, “Go sit on his lap.”

The guy shook his head, “Sorry my guy, too big for my lap.”

JJ answered, “Make sure you’re hitting legs at the gym too, Santa.”

He squinted at JJ, “Coming from you huh?”

You snorted, hiding your laugh with a cough before speaking, “Come on, guys, we gotta get a picture and keep moving.”

A lady dressed as an elf who looked entirely too happy to be dealing with so many people took your phone eagerly to take a picture. Once Cody was happy with it, you moved on, ready to leave.

“Wait,” Cody hesitated, “can we at least go look at the trees?”

Tyler narrowed his eyes, “Dude, we can’t buy one.”

“I know,” he sighed, “but I want to look.”

You interrupted before anyone else could answer, “Let’s go look at a few rows.”

-

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Cody, we literally can’t.”

“But it’s so small and cute, look at it!”

“Cody,” you reasoned, “who is going to water it?”

“Me!”

“You literally won’t,” Tyler told him, “I’ll be watering it within a week.”

“I’m a successful plant mom.”

“Yeah, small plants.”

“This is technically small.”

JJ rolled his eyes, “Smaller than a normal tree but not small.”

You thought back to the apron you’d picked out for Cody’s gift and sighed, “You know what, let’s just get it.”

“What?” JJ yelped, turning to face you, betrayed.

“I know, I know. But he needs it.”

Tyler’s jaw dropped, “He so doesn’t.”

“Okay,” Cody rubbed his hands together, “let’s fucking go.”

He took the axe he’d grabbed from one of the workers and started working on the trunk of the small tree. It didn’t take more than a few hacks before it fell into Tyler’s open arms.

“I’m not fucking carrying it. Cody come get your shit.”

You laughed, “You got a tree stand at home?”

Cody scoffed, “Who do you think I am? Of course I have a tree stand.”

“What about ornaments?”

He paused, “I have lights, not sure about ornaments.”

Tyler patted his pocket, “You have at least four.”

“And that’s all I need.”

Cody and JJ went to the car with the tree while you and Tyler stayed behind to pay and get any last minute instructions. The lady taking payments smiled at Tyler’s muttered, “I can’t believe we’re letting him get a tree.”

“He had a rough semester, we’ll give it to him.”

“I had a rough semester, what do I get?”

If we go to a basketball game, will you chill?”

Tyler paused, “Actually yes.”

“Okay fine, get tickets and we’ll go.”

“Bet!” he answered, walking away, already looking down at his phone. 

The worker laughed, handing your card back, “A handful, huh?”

“Yes. Both hands.”

“Good luck with that. And Happy Holidays.”

You bid her goodbye and followed the boys out.

~

day 13 of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: christmas tree farm

[ask-voreganronpa-boys]

If ya can could you possibly make a ultimate despair Teruteru finding a tiny fic? 🙂

I saw this request and I couldn't help myself!! Enjoy!!

"Ah well well well well well~! What do we have here~?!" The chef in red mocked you as you were trapped under a piece of rubble that he was standing on to pin you down. you were only trying to grab food and run but of course with this screwed up and messed up world, nothing is that easy. How could you have known that this cannibalistic chef would spot you, or really, how could you anyway? How could he had spot someone as small as you in such a chaotic place. You tried hiding in the rubble buy unfortunately it seemed his nose was better than his eyes…

"G…GRAHHH!!!!" you shout out in pain. "G-GET OFF!!!" You begin Scrambling for something to help pull you out. If he pressed down on you any harder than he just might…

"Oh no no no no no, cher~ y' shoul' know dat trasspassas git punished~ don' worry, I won' hurt ya, much~" he giggles wickedly and bent down to grab your arms and pick you up. He raised you up to his face, his red eyes were filled with pure malice and despair and glared into your soul. "Now le's see here. What sides would be good wit ya?" He tapped his chin as he looked over your body. "Pah," he scoffs, "you're big 'nough dat you're a stan' 'lone dish." He shrugs and walks to a table-like slab of concrete far off, taking you with him.

You were absolutely terrified. Sides!? Dish!? He wasn't seriously going to… your eyes widened when the realization hit you…you began squirming, fighting, calling for help. But since he was holding you by your arms, it was quite hard to fight so you just kicked at the air. It was hopeless…you were helpless and at the very mercy of this…this…this monster… speaking of, all of his actions seemed familiar. You knew there were a few famous Remnants of Despair that were famously dangerous. Like the duos of Nekomaru Nidai and his partner Akane Owari. And the other terrifying duo of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu and his body guard and tool by the name of Peko Pekoyama and their Yakuza army. You pondered who this one was… "Wh-who are you!?" You snap at him

He stood at the makeshift table and pinned you on your back with his fingers. "Huh? Lil ol me?" He raised a eyebrow before breaking out in laughter, "my name's Teruteru Hanamura. But i's not like you'll need ta remember dat. Soon 'nough, you'll be dead.' He releases a terrifying giggle. "Now le's see what we have 'ere…" he murmurs to himself and looks around for a object to pin you down with. He grabs a piece of a shattered brick and sets it on your chest. "Dere we go. Now jus' stay dere an lemmie git ou' some tings t' go wit cha." He gives a gleeful smile and took the bag off his back to rummage through it

Your eyes tremble at the name. Teruteru Hanamura…the cannibal…there were rumors that he ate his family and fed people her leftovers. Who knows how many he's eaten by now. But all you knew right now was that the previous ultimate chef was going to kill you… and you would taste delicious… you growl when you were trapped under yet more rubble and scrambled to try and get it off. You look up to him and took shakey breaths, starting to hyperventilate.

"Ahah! Dere we go! Da perfect spices. Now t' prepare ya.' He chuckles and sets the spices on the table and brought out oil as well. "Right den! Le's git started!" He took the cap off of the oil and set it to the side and took out a small bowl. He removes the rubble off of you and set you in the bowl. With one hand and pinched your chest with his thumb and index finger, and used the other hand to pour the oil on you. He then used both hands to massage the liquid into your skin and clothes. "Dis'is t' help da spices stick to ya. Isn't dis fun? I git a meal an' you gitta free cookin lesson" he laughed.

You squeak and squirm to try and get free, calling out but was interrupted by oil getting into your mouth, making you cough and hack. You begin sobbing and whimpering for help. But even you knew it was of no use. You smelt strongly of oil and the taunting didn't make it any better. But strangely, you had to admit, the massaging felt good, even if you were in danger. You tried not to enjoy it but it was growing hard to hide it

"Dere we go cher! Now t' season ya up. I hope ya aren' allergic." He hums and opens the spices with one hand while still pinching you with he other. He drizzles various spices on you and rubbed it in as well. He hummed all the while. After he was done seasoning you, and you finished sneezing, he searched his bag again, "lessee if deres any sauces t' put on ya." He muttered, "it'd be hard t' eat ya all dry like dis." He soon pulled out a little thing of soy sauce and a tiny bowl. After pouring the sauce in the bowl, he dips you in it as well. "Dere we go~ a finished mastah piece~" he chuckles lowly and lifts you up

Coughing and sputtering, you try to wipe your face to get the sauce off. You groan and wipe it off your eyes that now stung. Wiping it off was useless seeing as the rest of your body was soaked, but it was just instinct to do so. You wince as you squint your eyes to look up at the chef, then eyes shot wide open at the sight…a large maw with pointed and sharp to the touch Canines, a large salivating tongue that was already soaked and waiting, a pulsing uvula at the back, and directly under it was a dark, squishy abyss that would soon lead you to your final destination… you were silent for a while, too petrified to speak. Until eventually you finally managed to utter a blood curdling scream

He winced at the high pitch scream but it didn't really bother him enough to drop you. Well that is…on the ground. He chuckles in his throat and pops you into his mouth ungracefully. He shut his jaw quickly after to prevent your escape. He quickly went to work tasting and reveling in pride of such a delicious work of art. He groans contently and sat there savoring your taste. Oh how wonderful you tasted~ the perfect mix of ingredients brought out your true flavor and a combination for the perfect meal.

You landed on his tongue with a wet thud, not even able to catch your breath or get ahold of yourself before you were quickly pinned to the back of the cannibals teeth. You fought and sputtered as the tongue viscously attacked you. It roughly tasted and explored every crevice of your body. Nothing worked to fight it off of you. It was all useless. You were trapped and your fight proved to be hopeless. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gave up. Why bother fighting if it won't do anything? You lay there and let the giant do as he pleased. You were completely soaked both from soy sauce and the thick saliva that now covered you head to toe. He would go on to pin you to the hard roof of his mouth and suckle on you. He would move you to his teeth and lightly chew on you and your limbs. He did the same with his canines and ended up scratching you and breaking your skin slightly. But soon enough he became bored with you. And you began to slide back

He tilts his head back, having grown bored of the lack of fight you refused to give. He lifts a finger up to his neck and followed your trail downwards until you disappeared passed his collarbone. He let's out a relieved sigh and leaned against the makeshift concrete table to collect himself and his thoughts. "Ah~! My my~ dat had t' be th' best meal I've had in a while~ ya were truly da tastiest lil ting I've had~ maybe I shou' keep ya." He giggles and rubs his stomach, licking his lips to collect what flavor you left behind. He turns soon after to pack his supplies and slip on his backpack one more

You were squeezed into the tight, dark tunnel and was pushed downwards. You could hear the powerful and rhythmic and strangely comforting booming of the giants heart as you passed. You could note that you were further down when the beat gets quieter. You also notice that the once dark tunnel was starting to turn a slightly dark shade of red. And, unfortunately, you were deposited into the stomach of the Cannibal and Ultimate Despair Remnant, Teruteru Hanamura. You fall with a grunt and after collecting yourself, you jolt up and run to beat on the nearest wall. "LET ME OUT OF HERE!!! YOU CAN'T DO THIS PLEASE!!!" you plead while crying. But you soon froze at his words of keeping you. "No…nonononononononoNO!!!" you cry out and beat his walls some more

"Hmhmhmhmhmm~" he laughs, "hey dat t'ckles!" He mocks you. "I actually can do dis. Who's gonna stop me? Be grateful I'm not digestin ya. So jus' sit down and relax. Surely i's not dat bad in dere." He snickers and starts to walk. "Gimmie some rubs and maybe I'll consider lettin ya out later." He says in a sweet tone and pats his stomach

You step back a little. He had a point…you could've ended up worse…and maybe if you stayed on his good side, you would be able to make it out of here and come up with a plan of escape. And he…he might be a source of protection for now… you sigh shakily and sit down. You reluctantly did as asked, and rubbed the walls and 'floor' for him.

"Dats a good lil treat~ keep dat up an I might feed ya later~" he giggles softly and rests both hands on his stomach as he walked back into the chaos filled world…