#wheezing at the “you gave me your burrito

[superjarg]

Link on Instagram

[passionateseadruid]

I am loved! I am loved!

Few things: Tad bit of Misogyny (Adam, kinda Lucifer), swearing (almost everyone), Sera, Slander (Lucifer and Lilith), extermination talk, bad people mentioned

sequel to this

Me and my husband, we are doing better.

Or at least that’s how I feel.

It had been a few centuries since you’ve been married and it seems like he’s been more tense lately. You thought to take him out to for lunch.

“Adam! Sweetheart?” You opened the door of the conference room that a small light blue elephant cherub had directed you toward. He had come with you. “Thank you silver.”

“Babe! C’mere!” Adam motioned you over. “Listen Sera my baby agrees with this.”

“Darling? Do you?”

“I completely agree with my husband. What am I agreeing with?”

“Adam thinks that it’s a good idea to kill off some of the worst sinners in hell.”

“…Adam?”

“Yeah because you’ve been spewing nonsense about the whore with some mildly entertaining curves trying to overthrow us with those sinners.”

“Her husband had a smaller waist and wider hips than she does.” You and him wheezed at that.

“True! Oh ho ho,” he panted from laughing too hard. “And this is why I love you, honey.”

“Um… so what was his idea Sera?” You asked bashfully. Adam had never publicly stated his love for you. Sure he was touchy-feely but he always blamed that on his high sex-drive when asked.

“Adam wants to train an army to kill certain sinners.”

“Only the really bad ones, like the ones we talked about.” Adam assured.

“Like the people harming children? Or those that sexually abused others?” You asked.

“Yeah! Or the really really bad killers who just slaughter tons of innocent people for no reason other than that they can!”

“Yeah Sera I agree. Not all of the souls down there would have to get involved.” You reasoned.

“No, course not.” Adam agreed.

“I don’t know, darling.” Sera looked at you both apprehensively.

“Sera, you know that people like that do not deserve to live. It was only because of Lucifer that they exist! And it is because of him that they get to roam freely!” You asserted, anger grew in you as the seconds passed thinking about Lucifer.

“…okay.”

“But! Just the very bad ones.” You warned.

“Course! I may be a “misogynist” or whatever but I’m not a monster.”

“Do you want to go get burritos now?” You grabbed his hand.

“Fuck yeah! See you later Sera!” He tossed you over his shoulder and slapped your ass.

////////////////////////////////////////

It had been a few months and Sera arranged a meeting with Lucifer.

“Sera! Please make him bring Lilith!”

“Why on earth would you want that?”

“Because then Adam and I can show them that we don’t care about them!”

“Ugh, please don’t be so immature.”

“Please Sera! Please please please!”

“Okay okay! Just don’t be upset if he doesn’t care. And don’t interrupt the meeting okay?”

“Thank you Sera!!”

////////////////////////////////////////

The day of the meeting you had picked out matching outfits for you and Adam. White robes with gold accents. You had gold jewelry in the shape of crosses. And you slipped on your wedding ring with the biggest diamond you’d (or anyone’d ever seen).

“Adam sweetheart! Cmon!”

“Babe why do we have to go?” Adam whined.

“The Morningstars will be there. Don’t you want to show them up?”

“…yes.”

“Come on then! You big baby.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Adam.”

////////////////////////////////////////

“What the fuck are they doing here?!” Lucifer shouted.

“Calm down Lucifer. Darling here overseas humanity.” Sera calmly explained.

“Why did you have to mess up all of humanity?” You glared at the two.

“And Adam was the one who came up with the idea.”

“Yeah bitch!”

“Okay… then why are they on Adam’s lap?” Lilith asked.

“Because we’re married?” You said.

“WHAT?!” The two exclaimed.

“Yeah! I can steal your bitch too Luci.”

“Hey…” You pouted at Adam.

“Don’t take it to heart! You know I think you’re a badass bitch!” He nuzzled your neck and gave you a little peck.

“Can we please just get this over with?” Lucifer asked Annoyed.

////////////////////////////////////////

After the meeting Lucifer cornered you. “You may think you’re special because you got into the pants of the first man; but you’re not. You’re just some freak with pretty privilege and that’s all you’ll ever be!”

“…” You smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I-” He just stood there stuttering like an idiot.

You purposely brushed his shoulder and said, “Keep dreaming that you could ever have this.” Not looking back as you strutted down the hall to find your husband.

“Get your hands off me!” You heard him scream. “I love my baby and you aren’t going to change that Lilith.”

“I’m sorry are we going to have a problem here?” You walked in.

“Of course not babe. The Morningstars are just trying to stir up drama.” He came over to you and you wrapped your arms around his.

“How well I know.” You turn back. “Lil, step off my man and try to get a hold on your for a change.”

‘Yes me and my husband, we are doing better.’

Taglist: @pandaquick (I am so sorry I forgot😭 would you like to be added to my new series tag list?)

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Crazy For You - Stoney 'Stanley' Brown X GN Reader

Title: Crazy For You

Stoney 'Stanley' Brown X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother, Dave (Mentioned), Link (Mentioned), Mrs. Freadrick (OC) (Mentioned), Robyn (Mentioned)

Requested By: @zachizthegoat!

WC: 3,478

Warnings: Reader has a mother, flirting, banter, nicknames, prom, Reader's attire is not described (wear whatever you want), very small bit of suggestiveness, Reader is given flowers, brief mention of spiked punch, perfectly choreographed dance, based off the song; Crazy For You by Madonna, and fluff

Stoney let out a sigh, clearing his throat as he waited in the hall, standing by his locker. He had asked you in math class to meet him at his locker a few minutes before lunch let out. And now, Stoney normally wasn't normally a nervous person, he was usually a pretty confident, wacky guy. But, right now he was fidgeting with his fingers and turning his head at every little noise in hopes to see you walking down the hall with that perfect smile of yours. You had been friends with him and Dave since freshman year, and ever since meeting you, Stoney was hooked; line and sinker.

Stoney was pretty obvious that he was interested in you, and you seemed to have noticed. You and Stoney would end up flirting every time you guys hung out; which would also always annoy Dave. And yet, nothing really came out of it. But Stoney really liked you, more than anyone else, really. He was crazy for you, if you wanted, he’d walk all the way to the ‘Food 7 Mart’, just to buy you a burrito; and split it fifty-fifty with you.

But, seriously, you were perfect. He loved the way your hair framed your face, the way your eyes lit up when you told him about the newest movie you saw, and how you’d bite your lip when concentrating on something. And you understood him and his weird sayings, which was awesome. You were so understanding and sweet. You were always there for him if he needed someone to talk to or just hang out with, and you never judged him; as most people at the school and in the small town did the opposite of.

Stoney, though, was so stuck in his head, thinking about you, that he didn't even hear you come up and stand beside him. His eyes stared down at the floor tiles, thinking about the time you shared a roll of SweetTarts with him, when he finally recognized your beat-up black Converse next to his, only then did he snap his head up to meet your gaze with his; his curls bouncing as he did so.

You gave him your stunning smile, one hand holding the strap of your black, canvas backpack as you looked at him expectedly, "So..." You began, tilting your head slightly to the left, "You told me you needed to tell me something." Your voice sounded hopeful, yet curious as Stoney gave you a sheepish smile. “And you sounded pretty… I don’t know, anxious…” You added, tilting your head slightly. This whole scenario surprised you slightly, for all the years you've known Stoney, you'd never seen him so nervous. He was always the self-assured one of your tiny friend group; the voice of reason. Seeing him fumble a bit was something that took you aback.  

"Well, I actually have a question for you, babe." He corrected, clearing his throat; the little nickname he had for you, which he gave to you back in freshman year, always made you smile widen ever-so-slightly and your cheeks burn. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go to Prom with me? And maybe after we can swing by and wheeze the jui-ce." He asked nonchalantly, a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders as he said the last part; almost as if he was having any other conversation. He let a grin then spread across his face, which did help calm his nerves slightly.

You grinned back at Stoney and you couldn't help but let out a little giggle, "I'd love to go to Prom with you, Stoney." You replied, your stomach filling up with butterflies as you mentally cheered; you had been hoping Stoney would ask you. "And I'd love to wheeze the juice with you as well." You teased, giggling again when the tips of Stoney's ears turned a deep shade of pink. He tried once more to just brush it all off and act like he wasn't that affected by your angelic laughter, but he was; he always was.

"Well, I can pick you up at seven,” He finally spoke, his hand coming up to lightly scratch at his cheek, feeling the room heat up to an almost scorching degree; was the school hot, or was it just you? "We'd have to walk to the school, my scooter is broken," He then brought up, feeling bad but you only shook your head lightly, raising both your hands to grasp the lapels of his blue denim jacket, pressing the fabric down and smoothing it over.

"Don't worry your cute curly head about that," You spoke softly, the smile still on your face as you looked up into his honey-brown eyes from the colorful patterns that lay on the fabric; your hands resting on his shoulders, "Just relax, we’ll just have more time to hang out then." You reassured, squeezing his shoulders gently before letting go of him. “Plus, we can get some steps in.” You joked, as Stoney gave you his trademark smile.

Nodding, his curls bounced with him, "See you Saturday, babe."

You just let out a small huff, your eyes narrowed playfully as you tugged on the hanging purple fabric of the bandana wrapped around his temple, "See you Saturday, Stone." You answered back before passing him and walking away.

Watching as you walked down the hall, Stoney couldn't stop his grin from growing, and once you turned the corner and were out of sight, Stoney let out a small cheer. Doing a small victory dance before he went in search of Dave for the last five minutes of lunch to tell him the good news.

~~~

You brushed down your attire, you turned every which way as you looked into the mirror. It was nice, ignoring the anxiety, you felt very confident in it. Fixing your hair again and double-checking that you had everything you could possibly need, you heard a knock on your open bedroom door. You looked up at the mirror, your hands fidgeting with the soft fabric of your clothing as your eyes met your mother's. She stared at you, with a small smile on her face, making you feel a little bit better.

"You look wonderful, honey," She softly spoke as you turned round to face her, "You chose well." She complimented, reaching forward and taking hold of your hands gently, stroking them with the pads of her thumbs. The gentle gesture helped calm your nerves greatly.

You smiled and nodded your head, "Thank you, Mom." You answered, taking your hands out of her and clasping your hands together before you.

Your mother nodded before she raised an eyebrow, a small grin on her face, "You going with that Stanley kid?"

You felt your face heat up at her question as you nodded, "Yeah, Stoney asked me Friday," You answered once more, and your mother nodded. She knew the young man ever since you became friends with him and David, you wouldn't stop talking about him some days. She knew how much you cared about him. Her eyes softened, watching as you stood there with a proud smile on your face. Your excitement radiates through the air around you.

"Well," She let out a sigh, "I'm happy for you two. He knows to bring you back at ten, right?" She asked and you nodded, the anxiety you were once feeling dissipating to a point that you were able to speak without feeling your words trip on the tip of your tongue. "Alright, then," She paused, thinking over what she wanted to say next, "Be safe on the way home, yeah?" Her voice came out almost teasing and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, people also drive at night. I don’t want you to get run over - and no funny business.” She added, shaking a finger at you half-jokingly.

"I’ll be fine, Mom," You said bashfully, "And we’re just friends.”

Your mother just stared at you, giving you an all-knowing look, "Really? Friends don't ask each other to Prom." She spoke and you just let out a small chuckle.

"Actually, they do, Mom," You corrected, only to see that she was just playing with you, making you let out a sigh of your own, "He'll be here soon, I should-"

The sound of the doorbell interrupted you, and your mother couldn't help but smile before pulling you into a hug. "I'll see you soon. You two have fun."

You nodded before you headed down the stairs and to the door. Letting out a shaky breath, you felt your nerves bubble as you reached out for the doorknob. Taking another deep breath, you opened the door and saw Stoney waiting for you at the door. You were sure your heart skipped several beats seeing him. He looked like his perfect usual self, dressed in flared pants, a fancy button-up over a white shirt, and a purple scarf. You felt a bit overdressed, but that didn't seem to matter to Stoney cause once he saw you, his jaw dropped. You just smiled, feeling your cheeks warm up as Stoney ran his gaze up and down your form.

"Woah," He breathed out quietly and you chuckled, "You look gorgeous, babe." He spoke sincerely and you blushed at his compliment, you almost thought he'd wolf howl at you like he did most of the time at school but tonight seemed different.

"You look great too, Stone." You answered, noticing that Stoney had a hand behind his back. Raising an eyebrow, you spoke again, “You hidin’ something, Stone?” You asked, watching as his eyes lit up in realization and he brought his arm out to reveal the small bouquet of what looked like wildflowers.

“Oh! These are for you,” He answered, offering the small bouquet out to you as you couldn’t help but let your smile widen. 

You took the flowers in your hands, pretending not to have noticed when your fingers brushed against his, “These are beautiful, Stoney.” Your smile then turned into a small smirk as you gave Stoney a look, “Did you get these from Mrs. Freadrick's yard?” You asked, referring to the sweet old lady who lived just down the road from Stoney's house.

Stoney let go of the breath he'd been holding, smiling sheepishly as he nodded, "Uh, yeah."

You only shook your head, letting out a small laugh, “Well, thank you nonetheless, Stone.” Stoney gave you a toothy smile, which made your heart race as you let out a sigh. “I’ll quickly put these in some water.” You added, rushing inside to find a vase. Stoney looked around the entrance of the home, taking note of the pictures hung in nice frames around the room. He hummed some sort of tune as he looked around, his eyes then landing on you as you exited the kitchen. “Alright, let’s head out. Don’t want to miss any of the good songs.” You joked, grabbing your small bag from the table near the door.

“Alright! Party time!” Stoney cheered, making you laugh as you headed back to the door with him. Turning at the door, Stoney raised a hand to the side of his mouth, “Have a good night, Mrs. L/N!” He called out to your mom, making you grab him arm and pull him out of the house.

Closing the front door behind the two of you as you stepped out. “You’re killing me, Stoney.” You looked up at him with a smile, as Stoney offered you his arm and you took it, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Stoney only looked down at you, wiggling his eyebrows, “Softly, I hope.”

~~~

The beginning of the walk was nice, quiet, and peaceful; you really enjoyed it. "I hope you're not cold," Stoney then spoke up, gaining your attention. "I'd offer my shirt," He gestured to the button-up with his free hand, looking down at you to gauge your reaction only for you to shake your head.

"I'm good, but thank you, Stoney." You replied, glancing up at him with a smile.

Stoney couldn't help but smile back, "If you say so, babe. Just know the offer is always on the table, ahh-wooooooo!" Okay, there was the Stoney you knew and loved. You couldn't stop the laughter bubbling inside of you, as you tried to stifle it, which resulted in Stoney chuckling along as well, his smile widening before he spoke up once more, "Do you think they'll have the four basic food groups?" He asked, and you shrugged your shoulders.

"Maybe, I don't think they'll have burritos or Milk Duds there though," You commented and Stoney let out a hum, nodding his head slowly, "But they'll probably have punch," You suggested, looking up at Stoney who was staring at you, "What?" You questioned, tilting your head slightly to the side as you waited for his answer.

Stoney shook his head slightly, tsking, "That's not part of the four basic food groups, babe," He answered before throwing a hand in the air abruptly, "But! We're going to wheeze the jiu-ce after this fiasco, so I can reteach you then." He trailed off, right as you got to the school.

~~~

Though the gym was dark, colorful lights made it possible to see as the music from the band played loud enough for it to fill your ears. You held onto Stoney, tightening your hold on his arm as you entered, feeling anxious once more. But, Stoney was quick to distract you, steering you right over to the hopefully not spiked punch bowl. As you took sips of your punch, your eyes landed on Dave, Link, and Robyn, already dancing on the dance floor. You watched Link boogie down and turned to Stoney, watching as he bobbed his head to the beat and shimmied a bit in his spot; his eyes narrowed in on the dancefloor. 

You knew he wanted to go over there, have a good time and you didn't want to stop him. Finishing your drink, you began to feel more and more comfortable before turning back to Stoney. "Hey, you can go and dance. I'll be alright here." You spoke, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. 

Stoney looked at you, eyebrows raised as he glanced over to the dance floor and back at you, uncertainly, "Are you sure, babe? Don't want to leave you hanging."

Your brows furrowed as you shook your head, "Don't worry about it. Go and have some fun, you deserve it. And besides," You added when you noticed Stoney's worried expression, raising your hand to let your fingers gently brush his cheek, brushing back some curls, "You can save the slow dance for me." You teased, causing Stoney to chuckle lightly, and you found yourself smiling, glad you had put a small bit of levity back into things.

"Thanks," Stoney muttered as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment, "See ya later, ba-be." He trailed off, almost song-like before he then slid into the dance circle, masterfully joining Link in his dance.

You watched with a fond smile, unable to take your eyes off him as he helped Dave and Link lead the dance mob. You felt your heartbeat increase, your breathing a little irregular, as you watched him sway with the crowd, dancing with ease as if he belonged there. You felt your stomach grow tight, and your mouth growing dry as your gaze lingered on his strong, lean build. Your eyes followed every move he made as he moved gracefully across the floor. Yeah, you were definitely in love with Stoney. It was impossible not to be.

Before you knew it, the band finished their song, and another fun song came on. Robyn noticed you on the sidelines and dragged you in, swinging hers and your arms together to the beat. You did your best to let go and have fun, letting the music flow through you. Another three songs followed before finally the slow song echoed throughout the speakers; one that you recognized. Other students and their dates found each other on the dance floor, arms around waists and necks as they swayed. You looked around the gym, unable to spot Stoney at all until you felt someone tap your shoulder. Turning, you almost sighed with relief as Stoney gave you his charming grin, offering out his hand to you.

"I believe I owe you a dance," He spoke and you took his hand without question as you both walked towards the dance floor. His hand fit perfectly in yours and you couldn't help but feel a tingle run down your spine at his warm touch. 

On the dance floor, Stoney slowly placed his hands respectably on your waist, your arms going and wrapping around his neck; following the other couples' movements. As the song continued, Stoney's moves became a lot smoother; it wasn't long before he was leading you in small circles. The song, a favorite of yours, 'Crazy For You' by Madonna played, making you smile lightly, your fingers moving with a mind of their own to twist into Stoney’s curls. You felt Stoney's thumbs gently brushing over your waist, soothing you yet also leaving goosebumps in their place, and allowing yourself to take a small step closer to the weasel.

Looking into his eyes, you realized he was looking straight at you, a light flush dusting his cheeks as his thumb still softly brushed over the fabric of your attire; the warmth of his hands seeping into you. Your mind went blank for a moment, as if you couldn't think properly, trying to focus on the beat of the song and the slight sway Stoney was doing. But all you could think about was him, and how he made you feel safe, cared for… Loved. How he could calm you down and even make you flush just by being near. As you kept on dancing, you couldn’t help but look at the beautiful man in front of you. Your eyes drifted over his face, from the dimples in his cheeks to the small smile that played on his lips.

Stoney felt like he was dreaming, watching you dance with him made his heart race. You were so beautiful that it hurt, you were the definition of perfection; everything else fell away and he couldn't help but admire your beauty. Your smile was infectious, your laugh was melodic, and your eyes held his future. Even your fingers in his hair were hypnotic. There wasn't anything he wanted more than to spend the rest of his life with you by his side.

At the height of the music, even though it was still a slow song, Stoney abruptly twirled you out; surprising you and earning a giggle from you as you spun around. Once you came back to his side, he continued to surprise you as he dipped you low before slowly bringing you back up. You let out a breath, your chest heaving slightly as you stared up at Stoney with a smile. He did the same, reaching out with his hand to brush away a couple of stray hairs before he cupped your cheek.

You leaned into his palm and he leaned toward you, your lips nearly touching before your noses bumped together instead. The contact sent shivers down your spine, making your body temperature rise slightly. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his lips ghost over yours; moving against yours with such care and delicacy that you forgot all of the noise around you, only focused on Stoney and you. When he pulled away, your eyes opened slowly; fluttering. The corner of your lips turned upwards at the emotion in Stoney’s eyes, holding so much admiration and warmth. A flush crept its way onto your face as you continued to gaze into his chocolate-colored eyes; they were shining bright as they bore into your own.

Suddenly, he tilted his head back, letting out another wolf howl, immediately making you laugh; covering your mouth with your hand. Stoney looked back down at you, admiring how happy you looked, eyes closed and a huge smile on your face. The colorful lights hit you gracefully, casting soft shadows and highlighting your features perfectly; painting you in pinks, blues, and yellow. As if in slow-motion, he watched as you opened your eyes, calming down from your laughter; Stoney wondered if this was what love felt like. 

He grinned back at you, giving you a playful wink before he rested his forehead against yours. "Let's get outta here, yeah?" Stoney mumbled, and you gave him a nod in response; not trusting your voice. Taking your hand, waved goodbye to Dave, Link, and Robyn before leaving the gym and the school entirely to get your slushie.

[songbirdstew]

Been a helluva long week

(but longer for my poor coworker who's been going through it and doesn't seem to be getting any help from anyone but me and our occasional project manager, which is WEIRD, and also adding to my long week)

(tw skip this paragraph for under-nail injury content) Among other things he's dealing with, co-worker has a toe injury, and had to choose between seeing the doctor OR picking up his paycheck one day, so his payday got delayed by a couple days, AND he's in pain. His sister made him go to the doctor, and I said, "She's right, homie," and he said, "I know, but I'm still mad, bc now I feel like I'm working for free." It was a bad week for nail beds. Somehow, while cleaning under a work microwave, I managed to ram my thumb into it in such a way that I cut open my nailbed? Something underneath my thumb nail? It hurt like hell for about two days, and I keep finding dried blood under my nail, at the line where your actual nailbed stops, if that makes sense? It feels better today, but still sore if I use my thumb-tip a lot, which it turns out, is a lot fucking more in a day than you realize. So anyway, waiting to die from sepsis or dysentery, it's fine

(gross content over)

I turned 42 (FINALLY. THE ANSWER. I.... will have it??) on Thursday (WAIT). We got burritos (bololo). Because it's my birthday weekend and I don't want to be uncomfortable or eat ham (I do not like it, Sam I Am), I declined my brothers' broaching the possibility of Easter dinner this weekend. We got Chinese takeout tonight. For my entire life, as long as I can remember, my parents were staunchly loyal to the one Chinese restaurant in town that didn't trigger my dad's fish/seafood allergy, and always got the same takeout order every single time. So for my birthday every year, I get the exact same thing. (Great Wall in Springfield, Happy Family for 4, no crab puff, extra order of Mar Far Chicken.) Royal got those THREE fortunes out of ONE cookie. wtf.

Royal continues to be the best and brightest spot in my life. We crack each other up. We just played Tenzi for like an hour. At one point, while I was winning, they muttered, "Motherfucker," and I said, "No, just Mother." and they wheezed. Tomorrow, they want to play Scrabble and/or Monopoly. They're an avid DND player, and they just said, "I really want to make a gnome barbarian," and we're both dying. Now they're imagining a Lawful Good Necromancer. Now an Orc Monk. A Goblin Ranger. "An Asexual Bard. They're just a therapist."

They are taller than I am and wore my black jeans to school by accident recently.

Middle brother (BRO) gave us the pictured bottle of wine for Christmas, and I decided right then to save it for my birthday. I am drunk enough to not know if I just finished 2 or 3 glasses. CHEERS

[beelsnack]

Obey Me! Boys Taking Care of a Sick MC

In honor of me no longer having covid, I decided to write down how I mentally coped with having the plague  some headcanons about our boys and a sick MC. Because I’m all about the hurt/comfort life.

-----

Lucifer: “You should be resting.”

The human scowled. Of course Lucifer was standing guard at the bottom of the staircase.

“I’m just going to get some water,” their voice sounded like sandpaper against wood as they spoke. They felt like the living dead, and judging by the cool stare Lucifer was giving them, they looked it, too.

“No, you’re just going back to bed.” He caught them by the elbow as soon as they were within reach. “I’ll bring a pitcher of water to your room for you.”

“Lucif--” their complaint was cut off by a sudden coughing fit. The force of it made them double over, and they clutched at their chest with one hand while the other went to cover their mouth. Demons couldn’t catch human illnesses, but old habits die hard.

It wasn’t until their lungs stopped trying to eject themselves from their body that they realized that Lucifer had sat them down on the bottom step. He was rubbing slow, soothing circles on their back, a rare look of concern in his dark eyes. “Easy now, my dear,” he murmured as they caught their breath. “You’re shaking, are you chilled?”

“...Just a little,” they wheezed. They must not have sounded very convincing, because Lucifer quickly removed one glove and gently pressed the back of his hand against their forehead.

“Your fever has come back.” In one quick, fluid movement, he had taken the cloak from around his shoulders and wrapped it around them like a blanket. “Go back to bed, now. I’ll bring you water and something to bring your fever down,” he spoke softly, like raising his voice would trigger another coughing fit.

It was too bad they were too sick to appreciate Lucifer’s soft side.

Mammon: “…A’ight, that should be everything.”

Admittedly, he might have gone a bit overboard. But, could you blame him? He’d never nursed a sick human back to health before!

…Okay, so Lucifer may or may not have let Mammon use his credit card to get stuff for them. And he may or may not have taken a few liberties. It was for the human though!

“Mammon, holy shit,” they mumbled, poking their head out from the blanket burrito they had cocooned themselves in. “Is there anything left at the convenience store or did you buy them out?”

“Shut it.” he set the last six-pack of Gatorade (well, the Devildom equivalent of it, anyway) at the foot of their bed. “Ya’ weren’t specific, so I just got one of each!”

Their room looked like a doomsday prepper’s bunker. Cans of soup, a myriad of flavors of instant noodles, a portable heater, the works. Maybe they should have been more specific.

“Do ya’ need anything else?” Mammon sounded vaguely annoyed, but underneath the gruff tone he spoke with, his concern was obvious. They had given him a scare when they first came down with the flu two days ago, temperature so high that they ended up collapsing on their way to RAD. He had been fussing over them since. They weren’t even sure if he had slept.

“...Just one more thing.”

“Yeah?” he perked up like a dog waiting for an order from its master. “Whaddaya need?”

Instead of speaking, they wiggled their arms free of the blankets and held them out. For a moment, Mammon just stared at them in confusion. When what they were asking for finally clicked, his face grew so hot they could use it as a space heater.

“What are you, a little kid?” he grumbled, but there wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation as he climbed into the bed with them. They settled themselves against his chest, sighing contentedly. Sleep had taken over in a few heartbeats.

“...Get better soon, you hear?” they didn’t, obviously, and Mammon took the opportunity to gently pat their head, like they so often did for him. “If you’re gonna be all cute and stuff, I want ya to be conscious of it.”

Leviathan: “You know, I really thought you would take longer to go through all of these.”

The human looked like a whole new person compared to the last time Levi had seen them. They were sitting upright, although they looked ready to slide back down into their previous coma-like state any minute, and the number of blankets wrapped around them had been reduced to just one instead of three. They managed to shoot him a weak grin as they handed over the manga he had let them borrow.

As much as Levi loved staying locked away in his inner sanctum, it was only an enjoyable experience if one’s source of entertainment was also locked away with them. And he couldn’t, in hood conscience, let the human die of boredom instead of dying of illness, so he had ventured out of his lair armed with his collector’s edition box set of I’m A Scholarship Student At An Obscenely Rich School and Now I Have To Work Off A Debt Because I Broke A Vase That Belonged To A Host Club!

That had only been a few days ago, but this morning he had gotten a text from them saying that they were finished.

“It’s not like I have anything else to do, Levi.”

“Pretty sure you could have been sleeping, but okay.”

They stuck their tongue out. “I couldn’t put it down.”

“Right?” Levi nodded enthusiastically, clutching the box to his chest like it was worth his weight in gold. Actually, knowing him, he probably paid his weight in gold for it. “I definitely bawled my eyes out at the end. You have to watch the anime next, the music really brings the scene together. And, like, I’m not usually into pastel themes, but the color scheme actually really fits the mood, and - “

Somewhere in the middle of Levi’s overly-excited info dumping, the human’s eyes had slipped closed. By the time Levi realized he was geeking out, their breathing had evened out and they had slumped against the headboard.

…Oh. They looked really cute like that.

“Sheesh, c’mon, normie,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I bored you to sleep.”

He set down the box on their nightstand and, very carefully, so he didn’t wake them up, inched them down to lay were laying against the mountain of pillows they had. Once they were settled into a position that wouldn’t give them a crick in their neck, he pulled the blanket up to their chin.

“There,” he nodded to himself. “You rest up, because you and I are going to have an anime marathon, and I won’t forgive you if you fall asleep in the middle of it.”

They mumbled, but otherwise stayed unconscious. Levi had definitely seen this in an anime before. His heart was pounding somewhere around his throat, but he wasn’t getting this opportunity again any time soon. Gently, like he was approaching a wild animal, he leaned in close and pressed his lips to their forehead.

“Seriously, get better soon.” he murmured. “I don’t like seeing you sick.”

Satan: His leg was falling asleep.

He had been sitting in the same position for at least an hour, and if it were anyone else he simply would have shoved them off and went about his day. But, how could he push the human away when they were curled up like a kitten in his lap?

They had been complaining about being bored, since they had been too feverish to attend RAD for the past few days. So Satan, always the man with a plan, had arrived in their room ready to binge watch his favorite crime drama. Even though he had seen this show at least eight times, he still found himself getting absolutely sucked into the plot. So much so that he didn’t notice the human starting to nod off until they landed against his side.

“Honestly, you could have just told me you were tired.” he muttered, gently rearranging them so their head was resting in his lap. They made a small noise in their sleep, but otherwise remained unconscious.

It was so rare that the human was still. They seemed to have an endless source of energy, able to be embroiled in all of the shenanigans that tended to happen around the family without absolutely disintegrating. To have them finally at rest, even sick, was quite the treat. Satan couldn’t quit help himself as he reached down to pet their head.

Well, if he was going to be stuck here until they woke up, at least he had a good show to watch.

Asmodeus: “Asmo, I can bathe by myself.”

“Yeah, no, don’t even try it.” Asmo shook his head as he ushered the human into his bedroom. “You passed out in the shower the other day, darling. This is the only time I’m grateful for Mammon’s snooping, because you might still be there if he hadn’t heard you fall.”

They subconsciously touched the sore spot on their shoulder where they had collided with the wall. The pain blended in with the rest of their body aches, but the bruise certainly didn’t.

“Besides,” Asmo sat them down on the chaise lounge. “A nice, hot bath with some quality oils will rejuvenate you like nothing else. Now, go on, strip.”

When they gave him a clearly unamused look, he just laughed. “Not while you’re sick, darling. You know full well being with me requires you to be at peak energy.”

With a sigh, they began peeling themselves out of their days-old pajamas. Admittedly, they did feel like a bath would help them feel a little better. They were pretty sure they read somewhere that the steam from hot water would help clear out all the gunk in their chest. And if anyone knew the intricate rituals of bath time, it was Asmodeus.

While they were stripping, Asmo had made his way over to the Grecian temple that was his bathtub and turned on the tap. After a few moments of running his hand under the stream to test the temperature, he stood and began browsing his impressive collection of bath accoutrements. “Hm, let’s see, let’s see…here it is!”

Asmo turned around, holding up the little bottle like he had just found buried treasure. “Eucalyptus, to help clear out the lungs. It’s good for muscle aches, too!”

With a flourish, he put a few drops into the water. “Alright, ready. Can you get in yourself or do you need my help?”

“I’ve got the flu, not the plague, Asmo.”

“You. Fell. In. The. Shower.” he punctuated each word with a poke to their cheek before holding out his hand to help them. Although they grumbled, they were still feeling kind of weak, so they allowed Asmo to pull them up.

“There, now, easy does it,” he spoke softly as he guided them to sit on the edge of the tub. If this were any other situation, they would be painfully aware of the fact that they were completely naked in front of the Avatar of Lust. But, the fragrant steam rising from the water was beginning to ease the ache in their chest, and Asmo’s soft hands had begun massaging their shoulders. They barely even noticed when they were fully seated.

“You’re not coming in?” they murmured sleepily as Asmo sat himself along the edge of the tub. He just laughed.

“Next time, darling. Now, you just relax and let me take care of you.”

Beelzebub: The phrase “don’t have much of an appetite” just didn’t make sense to Beel. How could someone not want to eat? Maybe he was a bit biased, being the ever-starving Avatar of Gluttony, but still. Humans needed lots of nutrients to get better when they were sick, right? He was pretty sure that was what Satan told him.

Beel scowled, scrolling through the eighteenth listicle about foods to eat when sick. Honestly, he was making himself hungry, but he was starting to get the general idea. Looks like he’s making them some soup.

The kitchen was separated into “human” and “demon” sections, after the one time that they almost used cyanide instead of salt. Human cuisine took less time and involved less magic, so Beel knew his way around the human spice cabinet. Making the soup was the easy part, making sure it got to its intended recipient was another matter.

Climbing the stairs to the human’s room felt like a Herculean task, but he did it - mostly. He may have taken a few bites here and there. But he had purposely put more in the bowl than he knew they would be able to eat, so it was fine, right? He knocked on their door twice, listening to them shuffle around before they finally called out weakly that the door was open.

“I brought food.” he said, shutting the door behind him. “You haven’t been eating much lately.”

They poked their head miserably out of the blanket burrito they had wrapped themselves in. A thin sheen of sweat covered their forehead, but they were shaking, which meant their fever hadn’t broken yet. Did humans always take this long to get better? Another question for Satan.

“I’m not really hungry, Beel.” they mumbled, voice thick and gravelly due to the sore throat they had. “You can eat it.”

Shaking his head, Beel sat himself down on the bed beside them. “I had some already.”

“Have some more.”

“No, I made it for you.” his stomach growled, completely undermining his words. “It’s basically just broth, you can drink it.”

They wiggled around for a bit before they managed to extract themselves from the absolute cocoon they had made. “…What kind of broth?”

“Just chicken, I promise.” he laughed. “I wasn’t about to try to get you to eat a Devildom recipe.”

Finally, they got themselves into a sitting position, but even that seemed to wear them out. They flopped against Beel’s shoulder, and he definitely didn’t like how hot their skin felt against his. Their breathing was ragged as they tried to get the energy to sit up.

“Here,” Beel dipped the spoon into the broth. “I’ll help.”

“I’m not a baby…”

“No, but you are really weak.” he replied gently. “Let me help you.”

He could feel the urge to protest vibrating through their body - their independence was definitely an endearing quality of theirs. But, eventually they must have come to the conclusion that a content of tenacity between the two of them was going to take longer than simply waiting out their illness. With a huff, they opened their mouth and let Beel feed them.

“Oh, wow, this is pretty good.”

“I’m a good cook if I don’t eat the ingredients first.”

Belphegor: “I thought humans slept a lot when they got sick.”

The bags under the human’s eyes were almost as intense as they glare they gave him. When the rest of the brothers had begun arguing over something stupid, Belphegor had taken the opportunity to bundle them up and whisk them away to the peace and quiet of the attic. His intent had been to take a nice long nap with them, but apparently their lungs had a different plan.

“We should,” they groaned, sounding like their throat was made of sandpaper. “Every time I feel like I’m going to fall asleep, I start coughing.”

“That sounds counter-intuitive.”

“Tell me about it.”

Belphie rolled over so that he was lying on his side, facing them. “Well then, you picked a good nap partner.”

They blinked blearily up at him. “Why is that?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

He reached out, tugging them towards him until they were settled comfortably against his chest with their head tucked beneath his chin. Although he wasn’t the tallest of the brothers, he had enough height to basically surround the human. “Can you hear my heartbeat?”

“I’m too tired for you cheesy lines, Belphie.”

“No, seriously, just listen.”

He could practically hear them roll their eyes, but they quieted down. Once he was sure they were synced up with the steady ba-bump, ba-bump of his heart, he began to work his magic - literally.

He brought his hand up to cup the back of their skull, fingertips tingling as he focused his magic their. They squirmed for a moment before sighing as the cool rush of Belphie’s special brand of sleep magic washed over them.

“I told you, being tired isn’t the prob - “

“Hush,” he murmured, letting them feel his voice rumble through his chest. “Just relax for me, okay?”

Belphie massaged their scalp like he was washing their hair, working his magic into their skin. Slowly but surely he felt them soften, the tightness in their chest easing. Finally, their slightly labored breathing evened out, and the poor human finally succumbed to sleep.

“About time,” he kissed the top of their head. “You need to rest if you want to get better, so let’s sleep as long as we like, okay?”

[thinking1bee]

Just Friends Part 1

Requested by Anonymous

Prompts: “Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?”

“I don’t know, probably both.” and 

“If you steal my blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you.”

Pairings: Lena Luthor x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Humor, Unintentional Pining

Lena was your best friend. You honestly didn’t care that she was a Luthor, nor didn’t you care about her family history, all you cared about was annoying her until the ends of the earth. That was the crux of your friendship, getting on each other’s nerves that is. You’d steal fries from her if she got Big Belly Burger. Sometimes she’d poke you until you gave her your undivided attention. It was all small stuff, nothing major by any means, but it was enough to just irk each other if maybe a little bit.

You lived with her in a shared apartment and have been best friends with her for what seemed like forever. There wasn’t a single thing that you and Lena haven’t done together. Sleepovers in each other’s beds, even your rooms are right across from each other. You’ve seen each other naked, heard each other have sex in the middle of the night. You name it. So, when it came to you sleeping in Lena’s bed, Lena was already prepared for your antics.

You were already annoying her to no end by talking every time she was just about to fall asleep, but what really irked her was when you snatched all the blankets off her body and wrapped them around yourself like a burrito. Lena sat up and looked at you, and even with no makeup on she was still very flawless. She cocked a perfect eyebrow, her green eyes darkening in irritation. You already couldn’t help your giggle as you tried, and failed, to look innocent.

“Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?” she asked you. You snickered before sticking your tongue out at her. She flipped you off in response.

“I don’t know, probably both,” you said with a shrug. 

Lena laughed before she wrapped a leg around your body, successfully straddling you.

“You have one of two options,” she started. “You can either give me back my blankets.”

“Or?” you prompted.

“Or I’ll tickle you until you can’t breathe anymore.”

You squinted your eyes at her. She knew you absolutely hated being tickled, but you were also not one to back down from a challenge.

“Bring it on, Luthor.”

You had screwed yourself over. Lena long fingers gripped your sides and immediately, you started to kick and laugh. Lena laughed too, using her body to keep you pinned down. No matter how much you squirmed, Lena kept you anchored to the bed. Eventually you started to wheeze.

“Okay, have mercy!” you begged breathlessly with tears in your eyes. Lena stopped, pinned your arms to the bed, and leaned in close to you, her breath just whispering across your lips.

“Can I have my blankets?”

You nodded frantically, anything to keep your best friend from torturing you any further.

“Good girl,” she murmured. And you didn’t know why, but you felt your heart do flips in your chest.

“If you steal my blankets again, I’m going to put my cold feet on you.”

And to prove her point, Lena pressed her feet against your back. You yelped, her frigid feet sucking the warmth from your body.

“Damn, Lena!” you hissed as you jerked your body away.

It was quiet for a minute more as Lena snuggled herself into her makeshift blanket nest. Lena, then, did something that made your heart stop all together: she wrapped her arms around you to pull you closer. You felt her face cuddle into your back, and you released a gasp that was too quiet for her to hear.

“oH mY GoD, JUST KISS ALREADY!” Kara yelled from the room next door.

You completely forgot that she was here. Lena had offered Kara a space in her room for her, but Kara declined saying that she didn’t want to be “the third wheel.” You knew all about her alien heritage and her powers, so you quickly deduced everything she’d seen and heard within the past fifteen minutes. You feel Lena shift against you, her serene mood now replaced with amusement.

“Mind your business, Kara!”

You both hear her laugh before you settle into each other again. You two were just friends…that’s right. Just friends.

Part 2

[starkeristheendgame]

Shameless IronFam type friendly violence and fluff? Don't mind if I do. As requested, cute w no smut. No TW bar possibly light, consensual combative training. I was also a massive noob and posted the original ask with like two words written so I'm so sorry but it's just a screenshot of the original ask 💔

Peter was used to unusual wake-ups. The Avengers Alert system blaring; people crashing through his bedroom walls; a Pomeranian that was actually an alien that had escaped the Guardians on their way to document it before returning it home.

The usual type of unusual.

Being slapped awake by a boxing glove was by no means the most unusual or unpleasant, but he still jerked awake with a yell, flailing for a moment before his senses stopped doing the tango and Tony's smug face came into focus.

"You didn't sense that coming?" Tony asked, clicking his tongue. Peter blinked.

"I was asleep?" He defended questioningly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. The boxing glove was red with a gold velcro band, and proclaimed S.I across the knuckles.

"Spidey-Senses? What Spidey-Senses? Get dressed. You have an hour" Tony announced before waltzing out of the room. Tony himself could be considered unusual, especially since coming into Peter's room wasn't exactly a habit. His mentor was actually the one that afforded him the most privacy.

Peter lay there for a moment, dazedly staring at the door before JARVIS piped up softly.

"Sir would like me to add that you are to meet him at the gym, and appropriate attire for training should be worn".

"Thanks, J" Peter murmured, and threw off the covers. He went through his usual morning routine, sans the shower because he would need one after 'training' regardless.

When he entered the kitchen, Steve Rogers was hunched protectively over a bowl of honey hoops, eyeing the kitchen around him warily and inspecting his spoon before eating.

"Morning, Queens" the Captain greeted him cheerfully, and eyed another spoonful before carefully chewing. Peter watched him for a moment before his gaze slid across to the other counter, where a micro sized Antman lurked, poised in a crouch.

"Morning, Captain Brooklyn".

Scott caught his eye and threw him a mock salute as Peter passed to get a Hot Pocket, and Peter snuck a waggle of his fingers in return, careful not to alert Steve.

So it seemed The Great Prank Wars bad begun again. Peter would have to remember to be on high alert.

"Off to do some training?" Steve asked after another wary bite, arms covering his bowl as his attention raised to Peter, who nodded cheerfully, though he looked a little puzzled.

"Apparently. Mr. Stark hit me with a glove then told me to get ready. I think maybe it's that boxing stuff that he and Mr. Happy do?" He hummed thoughtfully.

"Well, whatever it is, you'll do great. Clint says he can't wait to get his hands on you" Steve smiled reassuringly, and looked at his cereal suspiciously when his spoon wobbled.

Peter tried not to think of that in a sexual manner as he took his HotPocket and made his exit, not wanting to be caught in the cross fire of whatever cereal based war was about to initiate.

He ate his breakfast quickly, and sat on his phone for a while to get it digest. His fast metabolism meant it look half the time it would a normal person, and he was already warming up by the time Tony came sauntering into the gym.

Peter's throat went a little dry at the sight of the man in fitted, breathable gym gear, but he controlled himself with a stern internal talk, and greeted Tony with a broad grin, bouncing on his toes.

"What's first, Mr. Stark?" He asked, and the boxing glove smacked him in the face again.

"Hmm. Well I'd say your reflexes, but...Maybe someone like Clint would be better for that. We're gonna look at your combative style" Tony hummed, approaching and stooping to pick up the glove. Peter kept a wary side-eye on it.

"Swing out of reach lots, try to web them like burritos and try not to get hit" Peter responded confidently.

Tony blinked. Blew out a breath. "Oh, boy. And I made you an Avenger. Alright; let's start". Peter frowned but obliged as Tony guided him through a warm-up style workout, checked how he formed a fist and his stances.

"Well, at least you know how not to break your hand" Tony announced cheerfully, unaware of how Peter's cheeks burned as Tony cradled his fist.

"I watched a YouTube tutorial" he beamed, and Tony sighed again.

"Okay. So. Standard braced fight stance" Tony encouraged, and Peter hesitantly shifted into it, knees slightly bent and shoulder width apart, loose but resting a little on the balls of his feet, ready to move.

"Good start. You just..." Tony trailed off, reaching out and grasping Peter's hips gently. Peter blew out a breath but kept his expression schooled as Tony positioned him so his spine was a little straighter. "Getting there" the older man murmured, moving to his side, fingertips trailing slowly along his forearms to reposition them.

Tony smelled like fruity aftershave and coffee and Peter took a subtle breath, losing his concentration a little. "Okay. So this, here, is what I want whenever I ask for a 'one', okay?" Tony hummed, tapping at his temple, and Peter nodded.

And so it went. Peter practised his stances and his fist, and they begun a little on throwing punches before Tony called it quits. "Good job, kid" he breezed, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he passed and left the gym.

"No cool down?" Peter asked the empty room. When it didn't reply, he begun alone.

Tony didn't wake him up the next day, but he did accost Peter during brunch, slapping his hands down onto the table and making Peter jump, staring in dismay as his oatmeal flew from his spoon and onto the cabinet behind Tony.

"I wanted that" he pouted, and Tony gave him a look that was probably intended as apologetic, but fell a little short.

"When that's not gonna make you puke, but the gym. We're entering the next stage" Tony announced, before leaving like those mysterious characters in the movies.

Or Director Fury. He did that a lot.

Sundays were apparently days of rest, at least from Tony's training. The prank war had been in full, feral swing by Wednesday and the Avengers had suffered great damage.

On Thursday morning Clint had stepped into the common room and onto a hidden panel, and fell to his knees as a marble ball swung down and between his legs.

"Oh. Yeah. -10HP" he'd wheezed, before falling onto his face. Almost fifteen minutes later he was still there, and Steve picked him up by the back of his jacket, carrying him like a briefcase down to the infirmary.

Peter, a friendly natural, had only suffered salted cereal and frozen solid bedsheets so far. Training was always a neutral zone because of the ridiculous amount of skill and superpowers that made it risky on a general basis, and he and Tony had made leaps of progress.

Stances and fists were easy, and Peter already had a good foundation of fighting knowledge (even if most of it came from YouTube tutorials and trail/error). So the basics quickly became refining what he knew, and learning more about fighting on the ground, because admittedly Peter relied a little too much on his webs. 

��Wait. So...What is this supposed to do?” Peter asked, from where he lay half-suspended in the air, draped over Tony’s thigh. Being close to his mentor hadn’t gotten any easier, especially not when Tony was literally within licking reach for half of their sessions. 

“This” Tony responded simply, and Peter’s world spun in four different directions before he hit the floor, head an arm cradled carefully by Tony so the supposed face-plant and jarring neck and arm bend didn’t happen. 

“Oh” Peter responded, and tried hard not to puke. 

Three weeks later, and Peter and Tony were fighting. 

Well. It was a friendly fight, and the Prank War was officially over after the President of Uruguay got thrown into a conscious time loop portal by mistake. But their training had progressed and now they were actually sparring, trading hits and practising moves in turn. 

Peter was small, fast, and strong. Hard to catch and flighty. A colt, Tony called him, when Peter slipped from his grasp again. But Tony was quick too, strong, too, and had experience in combatives that Peter didn’t. More often than not, Peter found himself tripped up or caught out, walking straight into an open move that he hadn’t even realised he’d set himself up for or been unaware of. 

“You’re good, kid” Tony huffed, shifting free of the leg-lock Peter had him in, tossing Peter backwards as he rolled to his feet. They were working on tackles and holds today, and Peter’s libido was begging for reprieve. These past three weeks he’d been so affected by the training he’d invested in some soothing aloe gel. 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. You’re not so bad yourself” Peter grinned, and yelled when Tony did a move that didn’t seem physically possible, world spinning as they tumbled and rolled and...

And Tony ended up above him, braced and with Peter’s legs caught and trapped, one arm held fast by the wrist and twisted a little, so he was sort of like a pretzel. It seemed tight and impossible and Mr. Stark was right there above him and. 

“Aw, fuck” Peter whined. Tony grinned, kept his grip steady and adjusted his knees so he was firmer, steadier. Peter felt trapped and tangled and held fast and Tony gripped him, let him squirm and writhe but didn’t give him any room to make a real difference. 

“J, start the timer. You got twenty seconds to get outta this, any way you can” Tony breathed. Peter squirmed. Wriggled. Even ducked his head to try and bite Tony’s arm, but the older men jerked him taut and held him fast, and even Peter’s semi-free leg couldn’t get anywhere. 

And Tony was still above him, so close Peter felt a little cross-eyed looking at him. He was a little sweaty and his mouth looked plush and inviting, and Tony was grinning at him so softly and breathing in short little pants and. 

Peter kissed him. 

A plush, firm press of their mouths, desperate and sweet, a perfect fit despite the clumsy start. Tony’s lips were soft, with the slight ridge of a scar, his stubble prickly on the corners of Peter’s mouth. 

Peter pulled back. 

Tony hovered above him, eyes mouth and mouth slack. It took Peter a bare few moments to realise that his grip had also gone slack, and he jerked, throwing Tony sideways and pulling his leg free, rolling with him and grappling the lax body until it was Peter on top, but he wasn’t pinning him. 

They lay there, breathing heavily and staring, and it felt like all time had stopped, lost in the amber swirl of Tony’s eyes until a shrill sound had them both jumping, Peter’s knee hitting square between Tony’s legs and Tony’s own knee landing heavy at Peter’s kidney. 

Groaning they fell apart, clutching their injured areas as the alarm cut off and into nothing. 

“Good thing I’ve technically got you as an heir. I think you just cut off any other chances” Tony wheezed, and Peter pushed himself up onto an elbow, one hand hovering regretfully over Tony’s hip. 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry! I didn’t - There was nowhere else for my leg to go! Is it...Bad?” He asked, and winced when Tony shot him an evil side-eye. It took them both almost a full ten minutes to get from floor to elevator, and from elevator to infirmary, where Tony sat on the edge of a hospital bed, thighs spread and ice-pack pressed gingerly to the crotch of his sweatpants. 

“Well. I guess you got out of it” Tony spoke after a long pause where they sat quietly, staring at their respective spots on the floor. Peter gave a weak smile, fingertips absently rubbing at his mouth. He’d kissed Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. 

Peter Parker had kissed Iron Man. 

“Stop smiling like that” Tony grumped, and Peter tried to oblige, but the smile felt encompassing. “Seriously. You look like the Joker if Disney designed him” Tony groused, but Peter could only duck his head to try and hide the stubborn grin. 

“I really feel like we should talk about it. But talking is...Not my fortè. At all. Steve makes a good middle man. You could talk to Steve. And then Steve would have to talk to someone else because if he tries to talk to me I might punch his pretty teeth in, but - Peter. What are you -?” 

Tony didn’t get to finish, because Peter leaned down, catching his mouth in another kiss. Shorter, more chaste, and infinitely mindful of Tony’s tenderness. 

“I don’t wanna talk to Steve” Peter mumbled, and Tony let out a slow, steady breath. 

“Good”.

They stared at each other for a little while longer, before Tony sighed and slumped. “We’re gonna have to talk about this, kid. I’m supposed to be an adult. Fuck. I am the adult. I’m the fifty year old adult. I’m basically your Grandfather”.

“Well...I always used to say ‘It’s Daddy, not Grand-Daddy, but...I can make an exception” Peter grinned, and Tony threw the ice pack at him. 

[fogsrollingin]

Title: calculated losses, chapter 3 Author: fogsrollingin fandom: Supernatural Story details: Sam & Dean, rated PG-13, 2.3k words. Summary: my next entry for @whumptober2020! Prompt filled is no 21. “hypothermia.” and No. 22 “withdrawal.” This chapter completes the whole story! chapter 1 on tumblr || chapter 2 on tumblr || full story available on AO3 || FFnet too

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　calculated losses, ch3　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Dean hunched over the wheel, hands gripping it tight at ten and two, knuckles whitening as he tried to suppress the shivers wracking his body. Sam was still so cold he hadn't started shaking yet. He was lethargic, slumped against the passenger door and mumbling incoherent strings of words. Dean couldn't forget Sam was withdrawing too. The heat blasted through the vents. Dean drove, eyes wide and desperate for lodgings.

The convenience store they'd been held up in had been on a frontage road parallel to the highway. He cursed the long local street, his side of it holding nothing but Pennsylvania wilderness now, interspersed with gravel driveways leading to decent two-story houses. It was empty of traffic. He'd probably need to get onto the highway before he could find a place to stay.

He glanced at Sam. His brother had closed his eyes, his mouth hanging open.

"Sam? Sammy!?" Dean shook him, grabbed his arm and Sam sleepily came back to life.

"Yeah here, jeez," Sam wheezed as Dean kept shaking him. "Dean, okay!"

"Stay awake," Dean ordered roughly. He was so worried about Sam, still holding Sam's arm that he almost missed the wide driveway of "Osa Motel and Campgrounds."

Dean slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel, making Sam lean then fall into his lap. The Osa general store parking spaces were right there so Dean pulled up and took the opportunity to feel Sam's forehead. Still ice cold. Sam moaned and curled up.

"Gonna get a cabin, Sammy, be right back," Dean promised. He slipped out from under Sam, making sure his head landed carefully.

The general store was a godsend. Dean paid for the closest cabin and several heat packs. He explained to the manager, Achak, a middle-aged Native American man with intelligent, curious dark eyes that he and his brother were just getting back from a bad camping trip and needed to rest and recuperate from the elements. Achak gave Dean a knowing and sympathetic nod before coming around the counter. He handed Dean the key and went outside with him, confirming Dean's story with a glance at Sam sort of sleeping in the front seat of the Impala. He pointed at the traditional log building that was theirs.

They busted into the spacious one-room cabin, Sam draped over Dean and stumbling. Dean dropped him onto the closest bed, found the heater under a window sill and turned it all the way up, came back and started in on Sam's shirts, wet from the freezer's ice that melted on the way here. Once Sam was bare-chested, Dean used towels to pat him down, then the heat packs against his neck, under the arms. He used both sides of the blanket to wrap Sam's upper half like a burrito. Next Sam's shoes and socks, his wet jeans and boxers had to go. Same routine. Towel pat-downs, warm packs along his groin, under his knees, then he went and got all the blankets from the second bed and made a mountain so thick and warm on top of Sam Dean was honestly ready to get under there and pass out too.

He thought to get a hand towel and wrap it around Sam's damp-cold hair. Sam seemed to wake up for that, probably from Dean jostling his head.

"Dean, it's okay. I can die, I'll jus' come back," Sam stuttered and slurred.

"You're not gonna die again, Sam," Dean yelled, cupping Sam's face, tried to get his little brother to look at him. "We're gonna get you warm, Sammy. Me too, for that matter," he added as he started to undress. Sam watched him, eyes glazed, pupils blown out wide though.

Dean left his boxers on before burrowing in and unceremoniously draping himself over Sam.

"Oh fuck you're so cold,"  Dean exclaimed.

"Just let me die," Sam laughed blearily and Dean glanced down and let the relief wash over him at the sight of those dimples. He chuckled and arranged the covers more while Sam yelped and fumbled under him, weakly resisting Dean's closeness.

"Shh stop, stop Sammy," Dean whispered and Sam stilled. "You know the drill. You're coming out of it. You're gonna start shaking real bad and skin-to-skin is the best fastest way to get this over with," Dean explained softly as he maneuvered Sam around so they were on their sides and chest to chest.

"Y-y-you'll hol' m-m-"

"Shh, yeah," Dean agreed, aligning himself along Sam's block of ice body, clamping his legs and arms around him. "I'll hold you, I got you."

Sam started whimpering, the feeling coming back into his limbs, his shakes turning to spasms. "Dean," he cried against his brother's bare chest. "This is..."

"I know it's bad, Sammy. I know," Dean soothed. "Don't talk, just... c'mon." He rubbed Sam's back and got him to snug in closer against him.

"Dean..." Sam breathed into his brother's neck.

"Your hair smells like that shawarma we had yesterday," Dean whispered. "Could really go for that right now."

Sam gasped and whimpered, clutched onto Dean harder.

"It's okay, it's okay, Sammy. How's the withdrawal?"

"Feels like my heart's beating out of its chest," Sam replied, his breath punching out on every word. "My ribs are gonna crack. My head wants to explode."

Dean's heart ached. "Okay, stay with me though, okay?"

"Okay," Sam cried, burying his head into Dean's neck. "I'm sorry."

"What? For what?" Dean asked, confused.

"I don't know," Sam sobbed and Dean recognized Sam wasn't really thinking anymore. "I'm just... It hurts so much, I'm so sorry Dean."

"It's okay, Sammy."

"I love you. I love you so much. I hate dying."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "Shhhh. You're not dying, Sammy, nobody's dying."

"Feels like it," Sam wept. Dean shuddered for his brother because apparently Sam did know how it felt to die.

"Sammy, you're alive, you're just hypothermic and withdrawing from demon blood. We're getting through it," Dean coached, smelling Sam's shawarma hair again. "We'll get through it and then we'll find some middle eastern or Thai, or uh... sushi, I know you like sushi," Dean trailed off, not even knowing what he was saying anymore.

Sam spasmed and jack-knifed against him, nearly tagging Dean in the nads and Dean was just about to scold him for it when Sam fell out of bed. 

"Sam!" Sam let out a blood-curdling scream. It stopped abruptly like someone had cut his vocal chords and Dean gasped as he watched his brother's body vault up against the bumpy logs of the wall. He was held up suspended by nothing, arms wide and fingers scrabbling for purchase, his face a rictus of pain. It was a replay of what Dean had seen in the panic room last year when he'd locked Sam up to detox.

"Sam!" Dean roared, launching up and getting his arms around him, trying to pull his little brother down from the supernatural throes the demon blood had pinning him.

For too long Sam was stuck to the wall, his back unnaturally glued to it as he jerked and writhed, tried to get free, trying to reach his big brother.

"Dean," he begged, tears streaming down his face. "Please."

Finally whatever was holding Sam let go and he collapsed into his brother, kitten-weak but clinging. Dean hefted him up. "Okay back into bed, come on. Come on, Sammy," he spoke, his voice cracking. It had scared him to see Sam like this in the panic room last year and it still scared him now. But this time he wasn't leaving.

He got Sam onto the bed. Sam curled up and rolled over, heaving in agony. Dean picked all their blankets back up and draped them over him before climbing in and wrapping himself around Sam's back. "I'm not leaving you, Sammy, stay with me. You in there?" He squeezed his brother with his arms and legs. Sam jerked.

"Y-yeah."

"You feel me?" Dean moved to press a palm against Sam's chest, over the anti-possession tattoos they booth wore, over his heart. "I've got you. We'll get through this, Sammy, listen to me, okay?"

Sam put his hand over Dean's and went silent. They were quiet for awhile but then Sam's body shuddered like he'd just woken up. His shoulders started to shake, and finally Dean heard a wet gasp. "I can't do this. I can't even fall asleep right now because I'm so.... Lucifer's waiting for me. I can't do this anymore. Dean," he said his brother's name like a plea. 

"He's not gonna come this time," Dean lied.

"You don't know, you can't know that," Sam objected, tone pitchy with indignity.

Dean gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut for some kind of solution.

"Cas! We'll call Cas, Sammy. If anyone can figure out how to keep an archangel out of your dreams it's gonna be him."

Sam might've whispered 'okay' but Dean didn't press it. He was warming up but the withdrawal was giving him the same kind of tremors anyway. Hallucinations might come into play too, Dean knew. He leaned his forehead against the nape of Sam's neck and prayed aloud.

"Castiel, please hear me. We're in a bad way and we need your help. Please come to us, Cas, please. Osa Motel and Campgrounds in Pennsylvania."

They waited with Dean clamped strong around his naked, detoxing little brother. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Sam was almost over the hypothermia. The heat packs now strewn around under the covers as well as the blankets could finish warming him up. Dean could get out and sit by Sam's side or something now as he came down. And yet.

Dean kept his arms around his brother. Maybe it was because this time Sam had been forced to drink blood against his will or maybe it was because Sam was so apathetic with his own suffering in the walk-in freezer. Dean's thoughts danced around the truth though, something that struck him every time he thought about how Sam had lost count of how many times he'd offed himself. What were the last things Dean had said to Sam those times?

Dean wasn't an idiot; he knew Sam really only had him. This was destabilizing for Dean too though. He thought Sam was safe for now, but instead Sam could've taken his own life after they'd had a good laugh at the bar last week, or after a successful hunt a few days ago, the two hours Sam had been at the library before they hit up the shawarma place yesterday...

When and how had he been hurting himself with Dean none the wiser the whole time? And what if he'd succeeded with any one of them? Cold dread seeped through him at the thought. Sam would've died and Dean would've been the one to find the body. He'd be the one trying to eke out the rest of his life knowing Sammy had saved the world just by successfully killing himself.

So no, Dean kept a hold of his brother, his body warm now, shaking, slicked with sweat, his skin unmarred except from scars that Dean knew every story to. The living, breathing reminder that he still had his brother, broken and tortured but still calling his name when he was hurt, still so desperately wanting Dean's approval and love and trust.

"It's true, he does," a gravelly voice intoned, surprising Dean. He rolled away from Sam onto his back to find Castiel hovering over them.

"Cas," he breathed. He couldn't be bothered the angel had been following his thoughts. In all fairness he hadn't thought to say 'end prayer' or anything since praying to him. "Lucifer can reach Sam in his dreams. Can you stop it?"

Sam shifted weakly, moving just enough to get on his stomach and look over, eyes puffy and wet and glazed but mildly focused on the two of them.

Cas's expression was empathetic sorrow. He nodded. "I can. I will ward the cabin."

Cas vanished. Sam scooted closer to Dean inch by inch until Dean noticed and helped to get Sam resting along his side, head cushioned on his shoulder, shallow wheezy breaths against his neck.

"You'll be able to sleep soon now. Just hold on, okay?" Dean murmured. Sam sniffed and nodded. "We're gonna talk about it again later but Sam, I want to make a new rule. No dying alone anymore, you understand me?"

"We all die alone," Sam rasped.

"Not you, not when you've got me. I understand why you decided to try it, why you're still trying. I actually don't think it's a half bad idea but... we figure out a way to die permanently, we stay together," Dean paused, deciding he wouldn't go into how he'd want to die too. "And we just... go from there. Okay? Sammy?"

Sam latched onto his shoulder and tucked into him more. "Yeah, okay. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. We'll get through this," Dean reassured, calm and controlled.

Sam didn't let go of his brother even after he cried himself into a dreamless sleep. Dean followed soon after, relieved Sam was out of conscious misery and in dire need of rest himself.

Castiel bid them farewell too but not before stocking the fridge in the cabin, something Dean discovered the next morning with such immense gratitude he actually prayed to the angel again just to thank him.

Sam woke up dizzy and disoriented around two in the afternoon while Dean was putting clothes on him. He was still so out of it he wasn't embarrassed but he wasn't in pain and Dean counted that a huge improvement. Sam couldn't remember anything past the walk-in freezer so they would have to revisit what Dean had said before but that was okay. Sam wasn't getting out of Dean's sight any time soon which was going to settle his nerves about Sam's secret opt-outs. And Sam had confessed so much that'd been eating away at him. Dean could tell their stay here, just the two of them at this warded cabin hashing things out, was going to heal them both.

---

A/N: And with that, we bring this fic to a close 😊

Thank you for reading. Please let me know if you enjoyed with a like, a comment, a reblog!

To see what the last 9 days of Whumptober are gonna look like for me, you can visit my tumblr post here with a few details. Fingers crossed I can get everything done in time. I'm really cutting things close 😵

Also if you've read my fic "in this house" (the story right before this one in my Sam Whumpchester series), I need to share MidnightSilver's incredible artwork that they posted yesterday inspired by it. It's just like, I'm speechless. Silver is a g i f t.

Thank you again for reading! Have a lovely evening (new SPN episode woo!!!) xoxo Alex

[feverflushed]

Heyoooo, I haven't written anything in a hot minute! Here, have some actual husbands Sh/eith! As usual, a big thank you to my dear @vcepsis for beta reading this!

————————

Keith sighed, biting his bottom lip nervously.

Shiro was asleep on the couch next to him, snoring loudly. He normally didn’t snore that bad, but that monster of a cold had completely messed up his breathing.

Keith stared at his husband pensively, deep lines of worry running across his brow. 

Rarely he had seen Shiro so miserable.

Sure, Keith had stayed by his side during a couple of flu bugs that had left his beloved husband completely wiped, but this… this sounded miserable, and Keith was sick and tired of it. 

They were three weeks in that awful cold, and it still didn’t show any signs of clearing up. 

It had begun as an innocent sore throat and runny nose, that had quickly deteriorated and become an awful head cold, leaving Shiro a sneezy, sniffling mess. He was constantly battling the pain in his sinuses and the annoying buzzing in his ears.

Then, after a few days, Shiro’s cold had decided to take a trip and settle into his chest too, leaving the poor man to deal with an alarming range of rattling and wheezing sounds coming straight from his lungs.

“You sound like a broken tea kettle. I think you should go to the doctor before you drown in your own bodily fluids” Keith had tried to suggest, but Shiro had scoffed, action that had left him in the throes of a vicious, rough coughing fit.

“I’m okay, Keith. Just a cold and a bit of a cough. It’ll go away on its own eventually.”

Keith had tried to argue, but had ended up giving up.

How he wished he had insisted. 

They had decided to watch a movie after dinner, a relaxing, domestic evening, but Shiro had fallen asleep during the first half of the movie.

The man looked absolutely spent, and Keith had been happy to see his beloved finally getting some rest. That peace was destined to be short lived.

Shiro was mouth breathing, he did that on good days, due to the massive scar across his nose, but when colds ravaged his sinuses, he was loud. So loud that Keith could barely hear the dialogues of the movie. He gently poked Shiro’s side with a finger, and the man jumped awake, startled.

The air caught into his throat, sending him coughing. Deep, painful rattles shaking his whole being, leaving him breathless. 

“That… doesn’t sound good” Keith observed worriedly, as he rubbed Shiro’s back through the fit. 

Eventually, Shiro’s lungs stopped spasming, and Keith managed to take a glimpse of his husband, before the latter buried his face into a handful of tissues. He looked absolutely wrecked.

“Do you want me to make you some tea, Kashi?” he offered, trying to help. 

Shiro tried to reply, but he only managed a small, hoarse rasp of approval. Man, all the coughing had destroyed his throat. 

Keith went to the kitchen, setting the water to boil. He was busy choosing the most fitting tea for Shiro, when a big, beefy blanket wrap trudged through the kitchen, half collapsing on a chair.

Keith clicked his tongue.

“It was not necessary for you to come with me, you know.”

The blanket burrito stayed silent for a few seconds, then sniffled wetly, and a congested voice came from the depths of it.

“...Felt lonely.”

The poor man sounded so sad and miserable, that Keith couldn’t help but feel a pang of deep affection for Shiro. He was just so sweet. He was miserable with that cold, but even then, he was… meek. He had been feeling horrible for weeks, and it showed, but Shiro never complained, never felt sorry for himself. He had just accepted it, trying to make the healing process the least annoying possible, for both of them. 

He didn’t want Keith to worry.

And Keith knew it. But Keith also knew that Shiro was feeling awful. They had been married for two years, he always knew when his husband was unwell, no matter how hard Shiro tried to conceal it. His actions spoke for him.

Keith kissed the top of Shiro’s head fondly. Or at least, the point of the blanket burrito where he estimated Shiro’s head was.

“Go lie down, Kashi. I’ll be there in a minute. Why don’t you choose another movie in the meantime? Something fun and easier to watch than this one.”

The blanket burrito nodded, and dragged itself back to the couch, sniffling miserably. A couple of loud sneezes reverberated through the apartment, as Keith brewed the tea, the lovely scent of mint and thyme filling the air. 

When Keith brought back two mugs of tea, Shiro had already made his choice. 

Keith stared at the tv, reluctantly.

“Coco? But you know that the ending makes you cry.”

“Maybe crying will help me unclog my sinuses for a while. Worth trying.” 

Keith chuckled, and settled down on the couch, but then stood up again.

“Ah, we almost forgot. We have to try the new nebulizer treatment they gave you at the doctor’s office today. Hopefully, this one works.”

Shiro groaned.

“Can I do that tomorrow? I’m so tired...”

“No, starlight. You do it now. The sooner you start with it, the sooner you’ll get better. And I want you to get better.”

Shiro looked at Keith from his nest of blankets, defeated.

“Okay. Just because you asked me so nicely. And because you called me… heh…” Shiro let out a throat scraping sneeze, immediately hiding his face beneath a handful of blankets. Ugh, gross. He reached out to the tissue box on the coffee table, swiftly grasping a wad of tissues, and promptly blowing his nose. 

Gosh. The more he blew, the more he wanted to blow, even if the skin of his nose was absolutely ruined at this point. 

While Shiro busied himself with the tissues, Keith set up the nebulizer. 

Shiro gave him puppy eyes, but Keith didn’t fall for it.

“Don’t give me those eyes. You know the drill.”

Shiro coughed deeply into his fist, resigned, before picking up the mouthpiece of the nebulizer and cuddling against Keith’s side, pressing the play button on the remote and switching on the nebulizer at the same time. 

“Sometimes, I think I’m cursed. ‘Cause of something that happened before I was even born. See, a long time ago, there was this family. The Papa, he was a musician…”

Shiro relaxed, focusing his full attention on the movie, while the medication worked its magic. 

Sometimes, the mist would tickle his lungs just right, sending him into a coughing fit and prompting Keith to gently pound on his back or rub circles on his chest, congestion shifting noticeably under Keith’s hand. He couldn’t help but think that his husband sounded absolutely terrible, and that maybe that was a bit more than just a cold. After several minutes of coughing and sniffling, Shiro’s lungs stopped spasming, the medication finally starting to soothe the itch in his chest and throat.

Slowly, Shiro started to drift off, eyelids heavy with sleep. The hand holding up the mouthpiece started to go limp, dispersing the mist in the air.

Keith chuckled, holding the small plastic tube in place himself.

He focused on the movie, while his fingers slowly brushed through Shiro’s hair. 

Keith hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep, but when he woke up again, there was static on the tv screen, and Shiro was still sleeping, still leaning against him.

He smiled, and kissed the top of Shiro’s head. He seemed to be breathing easier. 

Keith turned off the tv, and slowly shifted to better accommodate Shiro’s body. He was heavy, but it was a pleasant weight, warm and comforting. 

Keith slipped into a comfortable sleep, hugging the man he loved.

He had never felt so safe in his entire life.

[libraryscarf]

promare 2019 was all *destroys my retinas and eardrums* and i was all “i must immediately make this tender as fuck”

^ ^ ^

until someday ( ao3 )

^ ^ ^

It was midwinter, and Promepolis—a city of devastating extremes—was frozen over. It was a miserable, huddling time for anyone who wasn’t Burnish.

Which, of course, was now everyone. Including Lio.

“D-d-does your landlord know the heater isn’t fucking functional?” he chattered from amidst two comforters, a picnic blanket, four pillows, and a tablecloth.

Galo kicked the radiator twice. It made a sad clunking noise and a single screw clattered to the floor.

“No,” he admitted. “I’m not sure it’s ever actually worked.”

Galo, unable to bear the sight of his boyfriend in so much distress, knelt down to gather the whole shivering bundle into his arms.

“I can be a heater,” he suggested hopefully. Lio gave a derisive sniffle.

“You’re sweaty,” he mumbled, then squawked as Galo hoisted him and the pile of blankets into his arms.

“Would you rather be warm and happy and a little sweaty? Or cold and sad and by yourself?”

Lio grumbled incoherently. It sounded like maybe he had part of a pillow in his mouth.

Galo gently deposited the blankets on the hard couch and began the laborious process of de-burritoing Lio, who had so thoroughly cocooned himself in fabric that it took Galo a solid five minutes to pry him out, rumpled and hissing like a very cold, very pissed-off kitten.

“You barely produce any body heat,” Galo noted, rubbing Lio’s blue hands between his. Lio felt himself sigh, and tucked his head beneath Galo’s chin. Galo’s hands weren’t soft, but they were exceedingly careful as he massaged the sluggish blood back to the ends of Lio’s fingertips.

“I guess having little fire aliens living inside you would made it pretty easy to stay warm,” Galo mused, half to himself.

Lio snorted. The way Galo spoke sometimes—as though every thought in his wonderful, stupid head took a straight shot out his mouth without checking in at Logic Station A or Social Filtration System B. But all Lio said was:

“You’re right.”

Galo, satisfied that Lio’s hands weren’t in danger of frostbite, wrapped his arms around him and snuggled him ruthlessly to his chest. Lio grunted, his wrists trapped at a wrenching angle against Galo’s hard stomach. The air left his lungs with a wheeze.

“But now you have me!” Galo crowed. “Me and my burning soul will keep you w—”

“Ga…lo,” Lio gasped. Galo’s grip on him loosened at once, his expression mortified.

“Shit, sorry. You’re just…so cold. I didn’t want your feet to freeze while I’m working on your hands, so I figured I could. Y’know. Cover all bases.”

Lio’s lips twitched. “No, I get it.”

There was silence for a few moments, except for a quiet rustling as Galo pulled Lio into a more comfortable position against him. Lio nudged his head up, tilting Galo’s chin upward so he could put cold lips to his throat.

“You know what we could do?” he whispered.

He felt Galo’s pulse against his cheek. It was speeding up. A lot.

“Um.” Galo suddenly seemed to be having trouble using his tongue, and Lio chuckled.

“Well,” he said quietly. “That too, I suppose.”

Galo shifted him in his arms, so Lio could prop his elbows on his chest and look him in the eyes.

“We could start a fire.”

Lio could nearly hear the gears in Galo’s brain shriek to a halt. His face went so absolutely white that for a moment Lio thought he might faint. Galo’s jaw worked a few times before he managed to choke out:

“L-Lio! Holy shit, no! We can’t set anything on fire! I’m a firefighter—I can’t be an arsonist!”

Two bright red spots appeared on his horrified face. Lio looked on in silence, taking a measure of cruel delight in Galo’s torment.

“I mean, not that—not that all arsonists are bad,” Galo said quickly. “Like—like you, I mean. And I guess one time I did start a fire, but that was different, way different…and also not really fire…? Wait, no, arson is bad. Really bad. The most bad. But…shit, you really are cold, huh?”

Galo rubbed Lio’s back vigorously, as though through friction alone he could raise his core body temperature. His handsome face was the very picture of conflict. Then, he set his jaw.

“No,” he said firmly, eyes shining with an unbreakable resolve. “Lio, I can’t. Not even if you asked me to.

Then, just as quickly, his expression shifted to betrayal. “But…but Lio!? I thought this was over! I thought…”

He trailed off as Lio, barely holding back his laughter, pointed to their right. Galo’s eyes followed his finger, straight to the wall, and the—

“Oh,” he said, deflating.

“I meant,” Lio said through his giggles. “In there.”

^ ^ ^

As Galo thumped around the kitchen looking for matches, Lio re-wrapped himself in a blanket and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the dusty brick fireplace. The thing looked like it hadn’t been touched in several decades, and given Galo’s living habits, Lio had no reason to think it had seen recent use.

“If you take much longer I might freeze to death,” he called out after a few minutes of waiting. There was a muffled thud, and a yelp as Galo tripped over something in the kitchen.

“Hang on! I can’t find the—oh.”

Galo hurried back, matchbook clutched victoriously in his fist. He looked almost nervous as he handed them to Lio, who raised an eyebrow.

“My firefighter’s soul doesn’t really like using matches,” Galo offered by way of explanation.

“Galo, I’ve seen you use a lighter.”

Galo shrugged, lowering himself to the floor next to Lio. “Different.”

Lio’s lips quirked up, and he struck a match.

Instead of tossing it into the bed of newspaper and firewood, he let the fire tongue its way up the stem of the match. It was no live, infant flame. It was no Promare. But it played at Lio’s fingertips: a bright, lovely kiss of heat that was as familiar as it was foreign.

“Lio...” Galo said nervously.

“I know.”

He set the match against the newspaper, leaning back to watch the flame lick a hungry path up the paper to the firewood. Before long, the blaze was orange and healthy, the heat from its glow prickling at Lio’s frigid skin.

Galo scooted behind him, one leg on either side of Lio’s hips. He wrapped his arms around Lio’s stomach, pulling him snug and tight into his body. Lio grunted as Galo’s heavy head sagged onto his shoulder, face buried in the blanket.

“This’s’n’ce,” Galo mumbled. Lio hummed in agreement, leaning a little deeper into Galo’s arms.

Between the roaring fire and the warm, gentle arms wrapped around him, Lio felt the kernel of ice in his chest slowly begin to melt. It was easy, he thought sleepily, to partake of Galo’s heat. Especially when he had so very much of it, and when he was so willing to share.

^ ^ ^

They woke up at the same time.

Galo had somehow strangled both of his long legs in the blanket. Lio’s arm had gotten under Galo’s back and was numb from shoulder to fingertip. His mouth tasted bitter, and his head was full of soupy fog.

“Whattimezit?” Galo yawned, wiping away the string of drool connecting the corner of his mouth to Lio’s shoulder.

Lio craned his stiff neck to peer out the window. All he could see was dark gray sky. When he looked at the fireplace, there were only embers left. They winked like rubies in a bed of ash.

“Eight?” he guessed.

“Shit.” Galo crushed his face into the back of Lio’s neck. “We went to sleep.”

Lio chuckled. “Yes, you are correct. We did.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

Lio squirmed, twisting himself around to face Galo. They looked at each other like that for a little while, cheeks resting on the blanket, eyelids still heavy. Lio wasn’t quite sure how they ended up kissing, but he welcomed it eagerly. He cupped Galo’s cheek in his palm, fingers splayed wide to hold his face still. He felt Galo sigh into his mouth and echoed it, opening to the shivering hint of Galo’s teeth against his bottom lip.

Galo rolled them over, pulling Lio bodily onto his chest, keeping their mouths firmly connected. Lio tightened his grip on Galo’s jaw, prying it farther open so he could fill Galo’s mouth with his tongue. Galo groaned hoarsely, burying his fingers in Lio’s hair and raking hungrily across his scalp.

When Lio suddenly pulled away from his lips, Galo whined. The weak, needy sound had an almost frightening effect on Lio. He wasn’t used to it. He might never be. He wasn’t used to the way his starving, bruised heart craved Galo closer, closer still, even when they were as close as two people could be without sharing a single skin.

Lio had never needed anything so ferociously, and it terrified him.

Galo felt the tension in Lio’s body and opened his eyes.

“You okay?” He murmured, stroking Lio’s sides with his hot hands. “Cold again?”

Lio didn’t respond, just looked down at him. Galo’s cheeks went pink at the naked, almost savage adoration in Lio’s face. Slowly releasing his grip on Galo’s jaw, Lio traced a thumb across the curve of his chin, catching on his lower lip. He drew his index finger down the bridge of Galo’s nose, softer than breath.

“What are we doing?” he whispered. His fingers played on Galo’s face, stroking his cheeks, the firm angle of his jaw.

Galo’s eyebrows knitted. “Lying down? Well, we were kissing, but…”

Lio’s lips twitched as he smoothed out the wrinkles in Galo’s forehead with soft fingers. Then Galo made a soft noise of comprehension.

“Oh. You meant like…what are we doing.”

Lio felt the air between them change. Galo’s arms tightened around him.

“I don’t know,” Galo said, almost sheepishly. “Do you?”

Lio felt the threat of a smile on his lips before quickly banishing it.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “We’re kissing.”

So they kissed. Ardently, and so entirely without finesse that by the time they separated to gasp for air they nearly laughed at the sight of each other. Lio’s chin was slick with saliva, and Galo’s lips were bitten red, and so swollen he looked like he’d been making out with a beehive. They had rolled across the floor until they bumped into the couch. They lay there, still tangled in the blanket with Lio neatly pinned under Galo’s chest.

“You feel warm now,” Galo said, practically radiating satisfaction. “I told you I’d be a good heater!”

Lio let him bask in his accomplishment. He grunted when Galo happily buried his face in his neck, nuzzling into the curve of his throat like it was home.

What are we doing? his hands asked, re-mapping the comfortable architecture of Galo’s ribs, his strong shoulders.

Is it important? Galo’s replied, pulling Lio’s legs around his waist, slotting them effortlessly into each other’s negative space.

It might be, someday.

Galo’s body answered his.

Then let’s wait until someday, and you can ask again.

If the air was still cold somewhere, far, far outside their shared fire, Lio had long forgotten.

[myownpersonaldemons]

Self-Tober Prompt 4

Rainy

Grillby/Self

You woke suddenly in the middle of the night to the soft glow of your husband and the soft pitter-patter of rain on the roof. It was so soft at first that you didn’t notice it over the ambient noise that Grillby made, but it was there. The sound grew and then faded with the wind shifts, and you felt the chill seeping into the room from the window. Grillby shifted, his flames dimming a bit more like a particularly cold gust of air entered the room.

Maybe you should close the window?

Nah. Your sleep-addled mind didn’t want to move, simply enjoy the warmth emanating beside you, and the soft seep of chill on your foot that had found its way out of the bed covers in the middle of the night. What your mind did allow, however, was for you to shift your head towards Grillby. Your husband.

A sleepy grin stretched over your face.

Your bondmate.

You couldn’t believe that he was yours...and you were his.

Even almost at your one-year anniversary.

It had rained on your wedding day as well much to both of your dismay. The two of you shared very opposite opinions on weather and water. He loved hot, dry days while you preferred cool, rainy nights like this one. However, as small as your wedding with Grillby had been, the two of you had planned for an outside wedding...and every time you checked the weather report it had said that the day would be clear skies but a cool wind, perfect. Then...you woke up to a thunderstorm that lasted halfway through the day and then pittered off into a simple rainstorm for the next two days.

When he had apologized to you, upset that the two of you couldn’t have the perfect day that the two of you had been envisioning for months, you had told him that you would’ve been okay with getting married at town hall with only one witness in your pyjamas if it meant marrying him. You honestly didn’t mind that everything had to be packed up and the two of you ended up getting married to each other in his bar.

You rolled onto your side, slowly waking up the longer you watched his flames dance about his head and thought about your life since you met him. God. It had been purely by chance that you had met him...and funnily enough, it had been raining that day as well. Your friend had roped you into a cooking class because she hadn’t wanted to go alone.

Grillby had been there with Sans, both dragged into it by Papyrus who insisted that Grillby learn how to make something other than greasy bar food. (Which, you knew he knew how to make more than what was on the menu because you had dated him for five years before you got married.)

He’d walked in, grumpy about the rain with Sans making rain puns, and you’d been stunned to see him and two walking skeletons. You had been well aware of monsters before then, but the three of them together were a sight to behold. Of course, you actively made sure you didn’t stare at people and they were no exception, so besides a little glance at them when they entered, you didn’t really spare them another look. Even if you couldn’t help but notice the firey monster every time he came into your peripherals.

If it hadn’t been for you and Papyrus literally bumping into each other at the end of the class, you wouldn’t have ever spoken to Grillby. You wouldn’t have stuttered your way through a confession. You wouldn’t have fallen so quickly in love with him that it had hurt to breathe. You wouldn’t have moved into his apartment above the bar. You wouldn’t have slowed danced with him in the living room after watching a romantic movie and you pointing out that you knew no couples who just randomly slow danced together to no music.

You wouldn’t have learned that he was a cheesy romantic who could make you feel so comfortable and yet so breathless at the same time.

Ah yes. It was four am, it was raining, and you were getting mushy and affectionate.

It was okay, however, because he was asleep and you didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. There was no one to judge you and nothing needed to be hidden away.

You could think all night about your husband and no one could stop you!

“...why’re you awake?”

His voice actually startled you into jumping slightly, and he sat up slightly but then sent the window a weak glare. He didn’t like the cold, but you honestly needed to have a window cracked or the a/c going when lying next to him or you’d overheat and you hated being too hot.

You shrugged lightly, “woke up.”

A hum left his mouth and he glared again at the window before lying back down, this time on his side facing you. You smiled softly at him as he picked up your hand and gently kissed the knuckles. You could still see the sleep in his eyes. He was barely holding onto his consciousness as the two of you laid together, listening to the rain. Another gentle kiss to your knuckles before he laid your hand back down. You immediately missed the warmth. The cold was becoming a bit too much. Damn autumn rainstorms.

You didn’t have to miss the warmth for long, as he rested his hand on your hip and gently messaged the exposed skin above your sleep shorts. You sighed happily and curled closer to him. If you weren’t being lulled into the limbo between sleep and wake you would’ve wriggled closer to him for an early morning cuddle. Grillby’s hand stroked from your hip up your side and then slipped around to rest on the middle of your back before drawing you closer to him.

Another content hum left you, and he pressed a kiss into your hair as his fingers began to knead the forever tense muscles that made up your back. You lazily slid your leg in between his, and sneakily slipped your hands under his shirt to rest against his warm chest. He jumped slightly, making you tilt your head back to look up at him.

“...your hands are freezing,” he complained quietly, blowing some harmless sparks against your face causing you to giggle. You almost missed the affectionate smile he gave you, but you didn’t miss the half-hearted glare as you pulled your hands away and stuck them out of the blankets. “...don’t you dare.”

“Don’t what?” you giggled, “You’re just too hot that I overheat.”

He rolled his eyes, “That’s why the window’s open.”

“Exactly,” you said before withdrawing your hands beneath the blanket once again.

“Don’t stick them up my shirt,” he warned, so you did the mature thing.

You stuck one of them down the back of his pants causing him to jerk towards you. You gave his butt a squeeze for good measure too. He sighed, but you saw him struggling to keep a ‘scolding’ look. His flames gave away his amusement and affection. “That’s not what I meant.”

He pulled your hand out from his boxers and pinned it to the bed. You saw the half-hearted glare turn mischievous and you smiled up at him, warily. So, you did what any sensible person would do, remind them that you were their loving partner. 

“I love you?”

“I love you too,” he huffed, kissing your temple. “But I do need to get my revenge.”

Without warning, he yanked the bedsheets off of you and the rush of cold air against you had you immediately diving towards him. He laughed and quickly replaced the sheets over you.

God. You loved this flaming man.

But it was on!

You twisted around so you could be the little spoon, snuggling back against his chest. However, as he went to wrap his arm around you, you tucked the blanket closer to yourself and then rolled away from him. Successfully burritoing yourself and facing him again. You stuck your tongue out and buried yourself a bit deeper into the very toasty blankets. It was always like snuggling into sheets fresh out of the oven, and each morning you thoroughly took advantage of slipping onto his side of the bed when he got out.

“That’s not fair,” he huffed, but amusement danced in his eyes as he sat up. “You’re too cute.”

“M’burrito,” you mumbled into the fabric, and gave him a pleased look.

A roll of his eyes but then he grabbed the end and yanked.

Neither of you expected that you’d be unwound straight off the bed and onto the cold hardwood floor.

For a moment you sat there, completely still, staring up at the ceiling until Grillby’s head popped into view and you saw the extremely concerned look on his face, mouth opened in an apology.

You burst out laughing.

You were so glad you married this man.

He got off the bed and crouched beside you. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

You shook your head, wheezing slightly. “I just...that was- and your face!”

Grillby’s head tilted to the side slightly before he sighed, sparks flying again but you just burst into more laughter. You made an attempt to give him a smooch but you ended up just pressing your forehead against his cheek and giggling, unable to sober up for even a moment to kiss your husband.

“You’re a dork,” he said, tucking his arm beneath your legs and another behind your back before hoisting you back onto the bed. “You are okay though, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” you giggled out, “Takes more than falling out of bed to hurt me.”

“Thank goodness,” he hummed, tucking the blanket back around both of you and pulling you against his chest. “As much as I love playing around in bed, I think you need to actually sleep. You’re becoming giggle happy.”

That made you giggle even more and you shook your head, “I’m a giggly bitch what can I say.”

He kissed your forehead, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You fell asleep listening to the rain...in the arms of your best friend and husband.

[underoosweb]

Could I request a clintxreader with either injury and tender care or flu/sickness and lots of fluff? Thanks!

I got you

"Fuuu..." Was all that came out of your mouth, you knew this was going to happen when you felt your throat become itchy a couple days ago but you chose to ignore it. You rubbed your throat and sighed, you shook your head, nope the flu was not going to win. You made your way to the training room, you were training with Clint today, you knew you had to hide that fact that you felt gross. Opening the door, you were met with Clint's blue eyes. His face lit up, walking towards him, you smiled.

"Hey, babe."

"Hey," you wrapped your hands around his waist.

"Ready to get your ass kicked?" You asked with a smile, Clint scoffed

"In your dreams."

"Bring it on."

Clint had been trying to pin you down for 30 minutes now, Every time he got close, you managed to slip away, but you were starting to feel worse. You were drenched in sweat, shivering, headaches and breathing heavier than normal. Clint stopped when he noticed you shaking.

"You alright?"

"Y-yeah, why?"

"You're shaking."

"I'm fine."

"Ok, so that means you're not fine. What's wrong?" He said, crossing his arms

"Nothing," you lunged at him, he grabbed you and pinned you down, straddling your hips, pinning your arms above your head, he placed one hand on your forehead

" Jesus, babe, you're burning up." You tapped his arm to let go of your hands and quickly covered your mouth, coughing up a storm and wheezing.

"Alright, time for bed." He said, lifting you and carrying you. You started to whine and protest, but he just ignored you. Clint asked Steve to open the door and he placed you gently on the bed. Clint tucked you in

"FRIDAY?"

"It seems that Y/N has the flu, a fever of a 101."

"Thank you, FRIDAY."

"Tattle- tale." You said, voice scratchy.

"I'm going to be right back ok?" You nodded and rolled over, closing your eyes and welcomed sleep.

You felt the bed shift and lips press against your forehead, you opened your eyes and saw Clint sitting on the edge of the bed

"How you feeling?"

"Ughhh..." You croaked out, Clint let out a chuckle

"That good huh? I made you some soup and brought crackers with water." You sniffled and coughed

"Thank you." Clint placed the breakfast tray in front of you, you really didn't feel like eating. Clint grabbed the spoon

"Open up," you took the bite

"Good?"

"I can't taste anything..."

"Well at least you won't be able to judge me on my horrible cooking skills." He laughed and gave you another spoonful

"If I get worse cause of your terrible cooking skills, I'm kicking your ass." You said taking another spoonful

"Oooo, feisty. Sounds like you're getting better already." He smiled, you rolled your eyes. You reached for your water and chugged the whole thing. Clint smiled at you and continued to feed you, halfway through you couldn't eat anymore

"One more bite?"

"I'm full,"

"Alright," he moved the tray to the dresser and placed his hand on your forehead

"You're not burning up anymore,"

"Mmmm,"

"How about a bath?"

"I don't want to get up,"

Clint stood and made his way to the bathroom, you heard the water run, you snuggled into the blankets even more. Clint appeared and lifted you up, he sat you in the toilet

"My little burrito." He said laughing, you smiled weakly, blanket wrapped all around you. The water was filled and full of bubbles, he unwrapped you from your burrito form, stripping off your clothes. He picked you up and placed you in the tub. He stripped and got into the tub behind you, your back against his chest, you turned slightly, resting your head on the nape of his neck. You felt his lips on your forehead. He grabbed the lofa, cleaning you, he washed your hair and massaged your back. You could stay like this for hours.

"We got to get out before the water gets cold." You whined, he stood, drying himself, wrapping the towel around his waist. He helped you stand, getting out of the tub, he grabbed the towel and dried you off, he wrapped the towel around your body. You made your way to the bedroom as Clint drained the tub, you looked through the drawers, pulling out some underwear, putting them on. Clint changed quickly and looked for your favorite onsie, you smiled and thanked him when he handed it to you. He placed you on the couch, combing through your hair and blowdryed it. You smiled, making your way to the bed, he laid down next to you, pulling you to his chest.

"Yay, cuddling" you mumbled against his chest

"Movie?"

"Please?" Clint put your favorite movie on, you looked up at him

"What did I do to deserve you?"

"You're just lucky, I guess." He shrugged and smiled

"Seriously, you're so good to me."

"Well, I got the best girl in the world." He looked down at you and placed a kiss on your lips

"You're going to get sick."

"Worth it." He mumbled against your lips, placing another kiss upon them.

---------

1 week later

"Babe!"

"Coming!" You turned and made your way into the bedroom

"What's up?" You looked up and saw Clint, surrounded by tissues, nose red, throwing a coughing fit.

"You got me sick."

"I told you if you kissed me you were going to get sick," you said, sitting on the bed, placing your hand on his forehead, he grabbed it, bringing it to his lips

"Totally worth it," he smiled

[haikyuu-and-more-haikyuu]

I’m in love with your sweet Tsukkiyama head canon. If Yamaguchi falls ill and his mother has to work what would Tsukki do the first time it happens? How about now in the current time?

I am living for this AU. Love it! Based in this and here is the tagged page X

If something were to happened at school, and Tadashi is so unfortunate to get the stomach flu or something that is going around and needs to be collected by his mother, Tsukki will be grumpy the rest of the day. That is his only friend, and they’re in different classes; so he doesn’t even look forward to lunch break. Becuse he would usually eat it with his bestie. 

Kanami gets him home and to bed, and has to leave after he is settled. She can’t just skip out on work, even when her only son is home sick. She also has a late night shift and she almost cries. But if it gets bad, Tadashi can call her and she will surely be home as fast as she can get. 

Tsukki is another story. He stays mopey the rest of the day. Even at practice he is pouty and uncooperative without his partner in crime. After practice, he goes to Yamaguchi without telling his parents or brother. He has been without his friend for the majority of the day, and wants to see him. 

When he arrives at their apparent, third floor and the second door on the left, it’s locked. He remembered that a few weeks ago, Tadashi had forgotten his key and had to move the big plant by the door. Ka-chan has a spare key hidden under this plant. 

He invites himself in and makes his way quietly into Tadashi’s room. He is awake, flipping through a manga. There is a bucket by his bed, but it doesn’t smell sour, so it has to be empty. 

“Kei-kun, what are you doing here?” Tadashi’s asks, voice is hoarse and blue bags are staring to appear under his eyes. He is pale and his hair stick to his forehead and neck. The damp wash cloth as slid of his forehead and is now lying on the floor. Tadashi was probably too tired to pick it up. 

Tsukki kind if scoffs, but he sits himself on his bed. “I wanted to visit you. Your classmates said you had to go home since you got sick.”

“You can get sick too, Kei-kun.” Tadashi relaxes into the pillow. “I think…I think there is some masks in the bathroom.”

Kei nods and makes his way towards their small bathroom. He dugs through the drawers and cabinets for a mask and finally finds one. He takes it on and makes his way back. 

What are you doing out of bed, Tadashi? Kei asks as he sees his friend trying to get out of his blanket fort.  

“Aren’t we going to play?” Tadashi asks innocently. 

Kei wants to play, but sick people needs rest. A few weeks earlier, Akiteru had fallen ill with the flu and he wasn’t even allowed into his room! Kei takes him back to bed and is honestly content with just being beside Tadashi while he rests. 

He does his homework by Tadashi small desk while he fills up on what happened in Kei’s class and practice. Tadashi smiles sleepily at him. 

Around four and five in the afternoon, the phone starts ringing like crazy. They don’t pick it up, since the phone never rings when Tadahsi is alone home, only when Ka-chan is home with him. And his mother wont be hime for another few hours. 

“The phone really hurts my head, Kei-kun.” and Kei goes into the common room and just unplugs the noisy phone. There, now it wont ring anymore. Little did he know, that that was his parents trying to figure out were their son was. 

They shuffle into the living room and Kei makes Tadashi a burrito with all the blankets so Tadashi can keep warm. He isn’t so nauseous anymore, but he hasn't eaten too since breakfast. Kei tries to get some food into him. His grandmother always told him that sick people needed good food to become healthy again, but Tadashi wont eat his dinner bento or the rice porridge his mother set out for him- so Kei eats it. They watch Tv and just talk. 

After eight in the evening, Kanami comes home, worried for her sick son. But when she comes home to Kei too, she is shocked. 

“Kei-kun, what are you doing here? Tadashi is really sick, you can get the flu too.” she says as she touches Tadashi’s forehead. It is hot and his fever might have gone up a notch or two. 

“Don’t be worried, Ka-chan, Kei-kun took care of me.” Tadashi says around a coughing fit. She melts becuse of both of them. Kei-kun is such a sweatheart, but sweethearts get sick too. She tells them this, and both boys deflates. Tadashi should be sleeping and resting in his room and her son looks T I R E D. She gets him back to bed, with Kei’s help; of course. 

Tadashi falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. Kanami takes his best fired out of the room. She is amazed, Kei’s kept the mask on. She helps him wash his hands and tells him she is following him home. His parents might be worried, did you tell them you were here? 

The look on his face tell her that he hadn’t even though about it. 

They have half a basket of strawberries left and she packs it in a bento for him with a cute pastel flower bento cloth. Hand in hand, they makes their way to Kei’s house. Tadahsi will be fine, he is just sleeping. 

When they get there, Akiteru opens the door and relief washes over him. The older brother smiles and pulls Kei into him. Where the heck have you been!? Oka-san, Tou-san, Kei is here. 

Both parents burst into the room, phone in hand and fidgety with worry. Mrs. Tsukishima takes Kei from Akiteru and hugs him so tight Kei almost wheezes and his dad hugs around them both and tells him to never go out like that when they don’t know. Mrs. Tsukishima talks to him with unshed tears and they though he got lost or someone took him or something. They tried calling home to Tadashi but no one were answering. 

“I unplugged the phone becuse it kept ringing at it hurt Tadashi.” Kei’s tells them honesty, twiddling with his fingers. His parents smiles down at him, but there is still some stiffness left in their shoulders. They thank Kanami a millions times for brining him home and Kanami just smiles down at Kei and thanks him for taking care of Tadashi while she wasn't there, but next time; stay home so you don’t get sick either. She kisser his cheek and Tsukki flusters.  He gets the bento as payment for his hime nursing.

Kei thanks her and bow to her. Years later, even, he still get teased for that episode. Tadahsi finds it engrieng.

When he is older, Kei knows that that smartest thing isn’t for him to go straight home to Tadashi and try to nurse him back to health. But if Tadashi is just home with the common flu and Kanami can’t be there for him; he tells his mother and Mrs. Tsushima whips up some chicken soup for Kei to take with him later in the evening. 

It’s the same scene. Tadashi is either curled up in his bed or in front of the tv. The wash cloth on his forehead have long since been refreshed. Sometimes there is a bucket by him, sometimes there isn't. Sometimes Tadashi managed to eat some of the soup or the porridge; sometimes they save it for later. But Kei is there and gives him notes from school and fills him up of what the volleyball team did today and so on. 

When Tadashi gets better, Kei buys him french fries which are sloppy and soggy when he arrives at the Yamaguchi’s They don’t talk about it often, but they both like the way their friendship works. 

There have been occasions that Kanami have asked for Mrs. Tsukshima to check on Tadashi if he is really ill at home and she is working late. The Tsukshima’s are kind of the only one Kanami can rely on that lives near their apartment. There is no family that lives in the city. She has other friends in the city, but they live too far away for them to just make an event check-up on Tadashi state in the evening. Especially since some of them have young children too. Tsukishima Maria (I gave her a name too :) ) has no problem with doing so and baby Tadashi a little until Kanami can make it home. She knows that Kanami would do the same for her own two sons if she was asked. Kei always tags along, becuse that is what he does. 

Kanami always gives small treats and bentos to them as a thank you gift. 

B O N U S

But also, think if the other found out that their salty blocker actually has a heart. Maybe Tadashi told them that Kei came and visited with food and such when he was sick the week before. And the other are SHOOK becuse Tsukishima wouldn’t do that!

“Tsukki is actually really caring.” 

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Gomen, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi says with a smile and laughs at the slightly rosy cheeks his best friend gets. 

Ask box is open, each and everyone is welcome

[honeybee-babe]

Dialogue prompts 2 for Luther pls!! "Don't leave me" "Please stay" "I'm lonely" And number ~53, the one where Luther would be saying sorry for being sick and then being delirious bc of the fever. Thanks!!

Hey babe! Finally cracking down on these! As per our agreement, I’ll do separate fics for all of them. This one ended up WAY too long and the other ones will be way shorter, I promise. I felt like I had to explain all my headcanons which is a big part of that. Now that they’re listed here I won’t need to explain them again in later fics lol.~

ALSO: This fic is a sequel to the Lunya hug fic I wrote last week, so I would recommend reading that first. It’s really short.

I couldn’t really remember how the saying sorry one is supposed to go (I can’t find the prompt list cause it’s buried on my blog) so this might technically count for that, but I’m not sure.

Anyway here is a WAY TOO LONG response for “Please Stay.”

~

Vanya was worried about Luther. The day after he told her his news, he skipped out on dinner for the first time in a month. Klaus reassured everyone not to worry, Luther was probably just having a rough day and wanted to isolate himself (still a coping mechanism for ). Klaus had met a lot of people with eating disorders during his various stints in rehab over the years.

But when Luther didn’t come down for dinner the next night either, suddenly Klaus’ argument switched to the “relapses are normal” argument, and Vanya felt the panic hat had dissipated two nights earlier come back full force in her chest. She went to bed worried about Luther.

But when she woke up sweltering just an hours later, her was the farthest thing from her mind.

Fever was the word that flashed through her mind as she kicked the blankets off her body and changed out of her sweatpants into a tank-top and shorts, stumbling blindly into the bathroom, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She wondered how she’d missed the signs. She’d always been pretty in touch with her body, and this didn’t make any sense.

She’d been a little sick two days earlier, but it was just your standard cold: a stopped nose, a bit of sneezing. By the time dinner rolled around, she’d felt completely fine. She didn’t even tell her siblings about the illness. She preferred to stay out of their hair when she was sick, and besides, it was just a little cold.

Or, so she’d thought. But now she was standing in the bathroom with the thermometer under her tongue, hoping she didn’t have a fever more for the sake of not having to tell her siblings to stay away from her than for the sake of her own health.

When it beeped, her brows raised at the perfect 98.6°F displayed before her. Huh. That made no sense. She was wearing a tanktop and shorts and still sweating. And it was the middle of the night, in October. There was no way it was this hot in the house. Unless…

Shaking her head, she stumbled back into the hallway, and checked the thermostat.

“What the fuck?” she mumbled to herself. Who the hell had set the thermostat to 78°F? WIth a little huff she turned it back down to the 70°F she was used to; the way dad used to keep it, anyway.

Her first thought was Klaus – he always felt cold to the touch anyway, he probably felt cold, too. She’d text him in the morning, reminding him of the existence of blankets. For now, she’d go back to her room, and wait for it to cool down a bit so she could fall back asleep. But she was stopped in her tracks by a sound from down the hall.

“Huh’KSCH-NXGTchiew! HIhhh…Hh’NXXT! HhrrENXGT-chu!”

Vanya flinched, and then immediately frowned. The tired, congested-sounding sneezes came from Luther’s room, but that wasn’t the way he usually sneezed. That was the way he sneezed when he’d already been sneezing for a while and didn’t have the energy to hold his violent explosions back anymore. And instead of his normal two, it had been four.

Shit.

Vanya had only even thought about Luther’s sneezing so much because she’d heard him sneeze about a thousand times in the past seven months. Luther had been sick five times in that time, and two of those five times, he’d ended up in the infirmary with a high fever. The last time Luther was sick, Five hadcome to the conclusion that he was immunocompromised from isolation on the moon for so long. Isolation at the hands of their father. The same thing he’d put Vanya through all her life. Hearing that made her feel sick herself.

She’d felt oddly protective of him ever since. She’d always viewed him as strong and stoic, never putting his feelings into perspective. Never been able to think of him as fragile. Now she felt like he might break.

And as she walked down the hallway to his room, stopping on the way to grab and disinfect the thermometer, she cursed himself for not thinking to warn him about her cold. And for automatically assuming he had only missed dinner because he was relapsing. She needed to put more faith in him, he really was trying.

“Luther?” she called out softly when she reached his door, knocking gently.

“Come in,” came a hoarse voice from inside.

She pushed open the door tentatively, face falling when she saw the sight before her.

“Oh, Luther…” He was buried under his comforter, curled up in a ball, and barely fitting on his bed. A giant human burrito, only his head stuck out of the blankets. A thin sheen of sweat coated his flushed face. “You look awful.”

“ ‘m okay,” he mumbled, voice gravelly and barely there.  “Dn’ worry about me.”

“Did you turn the thermostat up to 78 degrees?” Her tone was a bit more accusatory than she’d intended.

“Yeah, cause it’s freezing,” Luther mumbled, hugging his blankets tighter around his shoulders. He shivered violently underneath the covers as if to prove his point.

“No, Luther, it’s really not.” Vanya sat on the end of his bed. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Js’ tired.” He punctuated the sentence with a wheezy cough, the beginnings of something wet rattling in his chest.

“Yeah, right.” She gently reached out a hand to feel his forehead, which was unsurprisingly burning. He shivered profusely when she touched him, but didn’t make an effort to move. That was not a good sign. “How long have you been feeling shitty?”

Luther’s shoulders shrugged under the blankets, making the whole burrito move.

Vanya reached for the thermometer. “I think you just have a fever. Will you let me check?”

“No, I don’t. ‘M okay, don’t worry.” Nonetheless, he made no move to stop Vanya from putting the thermometer in his mouth, nor did he try to stop her from reading the results.

“103.1. Jesus, Luther. Why didn’t you-” she cut her rant off when she saw how miserably he was, looking up at her with those big, sad blue eyes. She brushed back the sweaty hair clinging to his forehead. How was his hair even long enough to do that? 

“You should have said something sooner, Spacey.”

Luther just looked down at his blankets. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Vanya sighed and stroked his cheek gently. “Well now I’m even more worried!”

Luther turned his head away from Vanya’s touch and buried his face into his pillow. “I’m sorry.”

Vanya bit down on her lip when she heard him sniffle. “Luther?” When his breath started to hitch, she put a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, Lulu, don’t cry-”

“Hh’GNKtchiew! Hahh-nXXGT! Hihhh! Hih… hih!”

Oh.

Vanya couldn’t help but giggle, so loud she didn’t even notice the third budding buildup. 

“Bless you. I thought you were-”

“Hh’kTSCHIEW!-ugh, sorry…”

Vanya brought her hand to her chest. “Goodness, bless you! Nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Luther finally turned his head back around and blinked tiredly at her, flashing her a sheepish little smile. His nose was running like a faucet. She reached for the tissues on his nightstand and dabbed at his upper lip.

“Thanks,” he muttered, and wheezed, which quickly dissolved into a coughing fit.

Vanya pat him on the back until it was over. “You poor thing,” she cooed. He really did look pretty run down. “Let’s get some medicine in you.” 

She got up to leave, when she felt a hand on her wrist, pulling her back Even sick, Luther could easily restrain her. It was a feeling that still struck panic in her heart, even after all these months. She turned back to look at him, eyes alert. “What?”

Luther was giving her those big sad blue eyes again. His grip on her immediately slackened.

“Please stay.”

Vanya softened again, all her anxiety fading into tenderness as she bent down so she could be at eye level with him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Lu.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead again. “I’m just gonna get some things for you, and then I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Promise?”

She booped him on the nose. “I promise.”

Luther scrunched up his nose and buried his face into his blankets, cupping them over his mouth with his hands. “Hhh’GNK-Nn’XXT!” Vanya giggled at his reaction, and even more so at the little glare he shot her when he finally lowered the blankets, snot dribbling down his chin now. She wordlessly wiped at it again.

“Okay,” Luther mumbled with a thick sniffle after a moment’s repose. “But be quick.”

Vanya pulled an extra two blankets up to his chin before she quietly slipped out of the room.

When she returned, he was already half-asleep, just barely coherent enough to accept the medicine before he opened up his arms for his little sister to climb into.

Uncomfortable as she felt surrounded by the heat that was radiating from Luther’s body, Vanya felt satisfied when she felt his arms stop shaking around her frame, relaxing into the sleep he so desperately needed.

She waited for the sound of his congested snoring to be sure he was really asleep. Then she slid easily out of his arms and out the door, making sure to ruffle his hair once for good measure and pull the blankets up to his chin one last time before leaving him for the night.

[dragoninthecloud]

Cold Front - Akuma

Next bit of Cold Front, @ao3bronte! Happens after Checking up

Some Ladynoir... something? I’m really not good at working out what I’ve written I’m afraid o.O;

Start - Previous - Next

-~-

Adrien spent his morning watching anime and working his way through several boxes of tissues. Nino and Alya would be coming over to have lunch with him, and Marinette would be coming over after she had finished helping her parents in the bakery to study with them all, so he could stay in his pyjamas and be a blanket burrito on the couch until at least half eleven. Which he did.

At twelve he got a message from Nino to say he was on his way over when the Akuma alert went off on his phone. He chuckled when he immediately got another message from Nino, saying that oops, Alya got an alert, off to dodge death by custard.

He was confused until he looked at the alert. Someone was filling the Seine with bananas and custard.

…

Well. It wasn’t the strangest Akuma by any stretch.

He looked up from his phone to find Plagg floating next to his face.

“Plagg Cl-“

A small black hand (paw? He could never decide) landed on his lips. “No. This is not a good idea kid.”

“But she neeeeeeds me Plagg,” he slurred, still bunged up slightly.

His Kwami sighed, and rubbed at his eyes with a hand. “Fine. But I want it on record that I warned you. Any and all consequences are entirely your fault.”

He grinned at his Kwami and quickly gave him a scratch on the head, earning a surprised purr.

“Thank you Plagg. Claws out!”

He heard Plagg sigh as he was pulled in to the ring and then warm magic rushed over him. He didn’t feel any better as Chat. His nose was still blocked, his head still stuffy, and his balance not great. But he could do this, he was positive. The power of his love would conquer all.

~~

Three rooftops later he was bent over a railing and had just finished coughing up a lung, thinking that maybe Plagg had been right (not that he’d ever tell him) when a light thump sounded behind him. He turned slowly and met the rather unimpressed glare of his fellow hero.

“Hey there, Bugab-“

“You’re sick,” she bluntly cut across him, folding her arms under her chest.

“Wait wha-“

“Why are you out here in the cold when you’re sick?”

He blinked at her a few times. “There’s an Akuma.”

She scowled at him, and her foot started tapping in time with her fingers on her arm.

“You are meant to be at home, wrapped up warm and taking things easy. I’m pretty sure there would have been someone in your civilian life who would have told you to take things easy today.”

Chat closed his eyes and sighed as all the little details that had been fuzzy from his cold and sleepiness, all the coincidences that he’d been trying to ignore since she found him by the river, clicked in to place. So she knew. But if she wasn’t going to outright say it…

“Nope,” he tried to chirp, smiling brightly at her. “I’ve not talked to anyone from my civilian life yet today, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m feeling perfectly fine, so let’s go find the Akuma M’lady.”

Her scowl got worse and he saw her fingers curl in to fists as she dropped them.

“Chat Noir! You. Are. Sick. Your nose is bright red and running, your eyes are unfocused, and you sound awful. And you are going home, right now.”

He stood up straighter and tried to hide the fact he was leaning against the railing still as he crossed his own arms and tipped his chin up so he could look down at her. “Make me.”

The look on his face made him regret. He yelped and tried to scramble backwards but forgot the railing was there and as he stumbled against it she was suddenly there, hands pinned on either side of his hips and very much in his personal space. His breath caught as she stretched up, nose to nose with him with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t push me. Because I could. I could wrap you up with my yo-yo, sling you over my shoulder and carry you back to your room, where I’d throw you on your bed and tie you too it with some of those silk ties you own so you can’t be so stupid and come out here again. Is that really what you want, kitty?”

She slowly leaned back out of his space and he wheezed, staring at a point beyond everything. He had not expected that. He knew what saying “make me” normally ended in, but he hadn’t really expected Ladybug to go there.

And now she had he really wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done it sooner.

She snorted, and he focused back on her, the faintest blush spreading across her cheeks.

“So. Last chance. Are you going home by yourself while I go take care of the Akuma, or do I need to give you a hand?”

“Depends what you’re going to do with the hand,” he muttered. And after a blink, he was rewarded with a crimson blush racing over her entire face. Her mouth worked without sound for a few seconds before she bit her lip and stared at the floor.

“Shut up. Now,” she finally looked up at him and reached forward to cup his cheek gently. “Be a good kitty and go home.”

He met her eyes and found them warm, kind, and sparkling against the red of her mask and cheeks, and nodded.

“Good. I’ll come see you later. I have… somewhere I should be going right now, but I promise I’ll come see you as soon as I can after I’ve sorted everything out.”

He nodded again, and tilted his face against her hand, and she obliged him by moving her fingers to scratch at the hairs on the nape of his neck and rub her thumb along his cheek bone. Then she was leaning forward and doing the forehead bump he was really starting to love.

“I’ll see you later my sweet kitty. Be good and take your medicine, and you’ll get a reward later.”

She kissed his cheek, so close to his own lips, and then she was gone, jumping from the roof and swinging away down the street to do her duty to the city. Adrien steadied himself against the railing and grabbed his baton, turning to face towards his house where he could still see his open bedroom window past the two houses between them. He judged the angle, distance, force needed, and propelled himself across the gap, and straight in to a chimney face first.

One more house. Two more jumps. He could do this.

~~

Adrien dozed on his couch. He had barely managed to get home, stumbling through his window and landing in a coughing pile on the floor. Plagg dropped the transformation and then poked and prodded and whined at him until he dragged himself to the couch, and then the Kwami had had to tuck him in since he was too exhausted to do it himself. They had watched the news report together until they’d seen the ladybugs swirl around the city (and his nose), at which point Plagg muted it so Adrien could finally relax. It hadn’t been a hard or dangerous fight, just long, and had ended up needing Queen Bee. Small children covered in banana gunk and custard were surprisingly tricky to pin down.

So when he heard quiet whispers in his room, he was aware of it. He kept his eyes closed as footsteps scuffed their way over to him, and then as the couch dipped by his hip.

“Mmmm. Ladybug?”

A quiet snort made him force heavy eyes open to meet laughing blue ones. But there was no red mask surrounding them, just a hint of a blush. He stared, trying to process what was wrong with the picture, and when it finally clicked in to place he gulped.

“Oh, hey. What’re you doing here?” he slurred, rubbing at his eyes with a fist.

Marinette’s eyebrow quirked up in synch with one side of her lips and the danger sense in his brain turned on to a cautious amber.

“I’m here to check on you, after our study day got cancelled yesterday? Alya and Nino are on their way but will be while. They ended up chasing the Akuma further than they thought.”

“Oh. Right. I don’t remember… wait, I sort of do? I hit you yesterday, right? Are you ok?”

She looked surprised, then amused, twisting slightly so the left side of her face was turned further away from him and a long silky ribbon draped over her shoulder from where it was tied up in her hair.

“I’m fine, no real damage, and it wasn’t your fault. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Let me see?”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and shook her head slightly. So he turned on the charm. Kitten eyes, pouty lip, head tilted just so, and one hand placed gently on her arm as the other slowly lifted up towards her face. She put up a token resistance before letting him move her head by his fingertips on her chin, and he scanned her face for any marks. He couldn’t see any no wait. She was wearing slightly thicker make up on her left cheek, near her nose. He lifted his hand towards the area, and found his fingers caught in hers.

He blinked, confused, and she full on smirked as she started rubbing her thumb along his knuckles and his stomach squirmed. This was familiar. Why was this familiar? Marinette didn’t smirk at him like that or hold his hand like… like Ladybug had earlier that morning when he tried to touch the bruise by her nose.

… huh.

-~-

Stop being sick Adrien. She can’t kiss you if you’re sick or asleep -__- (Who’s in control of this? I thought it was meant to be me? So why won’t they do what I tell them to?!?)

-~-

Start - Previous - Next - AO3

[l0chn3ss]

Inmates - 3

“On The Offense”

Different words were exchanged every day, and oftentimes they were matched with playful pinches or hard jabs to the stomach.

The others who watched them interact were worried, to say the least, but truth be told, Maka and Black Star really wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Chicken, Maks?”

Black Star stood in her path to the classroom, acting as if he were some big obstacle that no one could face. His feet were wide apart, arms crossed, and he wore a smirk on his face that could only be read as a challenging one. If she spent any more time on him than she’d already had, Maka would have to call the day a loss.

“Move, Star,” she glared.

“So, you are chicken?”

Maka was weak to these simple words, ones that grade school children were taught to ignore. And she would have forgotten them easily had it not been for the person making the remarks in the first place. She rolled up her sleeves.

“I’ll wreck your shit,” came her response.

In the middle of a busy hallway, in front of their next class, they clasped hands and butted foreheads, trading insults and swear words.

Inside of the room, Kim sighed. “They’re at it again. Really? Right in front of my salad.”

“You hate salads,” Jackie said, barely glancing up while a crowd of freshly admitted NOT students crowded outside.

“My point is, it’s too early for this shit.”

“Agreed,” Soul said. He’d gotten the chance to slip in when Maka had wrestled Black Star away from the door. “I’m pretty sure that Maka called him something in the morning, though, while they were still at home.”

“Anything could probably trigger that fire cracker. I don’t know why she didn’t know otherwise.”

“I think she enjoys it,” Tsubaki called from a row down.

Kilik joined in. “The crowd enjoys it, too, apparently,” he said, jabbing a thumb behind him. “Do you think class will start late again?”

“It better not.” Jackie clenched her book tighter. “I studied for too long to run out of time on another test.”

The group of friends continued to watch, minus one, until two teachers came to pull Black Star and Maka apart.

“Yeah, just come in. Leave your bag wherever,” Black Star said, pushing his door open.

Kid took a brief look around before following his friend; Patty and Liz trailing behind. They didn’t do home visits often, but Black Star had an opportunity that they couldn’t refuse.

“I’ll get my fame-moose corn and clam chowder re-heated. How’d y’all find out about that anyway?” he questioned.

“‘Smelt it on ya hands,” Patty said, tapping her nose, following him to the kitchen. “And everybody knows soups are ya specialty.”

“Plus Kid forgot to go shopping for dinner.”

“I was away for five days, Liz. What have you both been eating for the last week?”

“Out,” was the answer.

Black Star ignored the conversation. “Soup is easy. You start it early, throw everything into a pot, and let it do it’s thing-- hmm, half is gone.”

“Thieves? Bandits?” Patty cracked her knuckles. “Those mutherfuckers.”

“Chill, there’s still plenty for all of us.”

Liz asked, “Enough for Maka to join, though?”

Before Black Star could answer, the person in question stepped out of her room, fully dressed and adjusting her gloves.

“Hard pass for today,” she said. “I told some kids I’d beat them until they were better. Try to enjoy dinner, though. We have Pepto-Bismol in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Guess you guys will be out there for the whole week, then,” Black Star squinted, crossing his arms. “Good luck helping, I guess. I hope they don’t give up on you too early.”

“There’s a reason why they asked for my help and not yours.” Maka crossed over to the counter to pick up a heavy thermal bag, hanging it on her arm.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, just going to force feed them some chowder as punishment.” She gave it a pat. “A torture device, but still legal in the state of Nevada.”

“Ah, giving the kids a proper final meal before you send them to their grave, eh?”

“Bye, choke on dinner!”

“Choke on my d--”

“Okay, who’s setting the table?” Liz intervened.

“Oh look who came in. Mr. Late McLate Pants.”

Black Star mocked her tone. “Hurr, I’m Maka, Miss Always Early. Why don’t you tell everyone why I’m late, huh?”

Kilik tried, “Actually, there’s still some time before--”

“Oh sure! I’ll tell them,” Maka sneered. “Someone was stuck doing a mountain of dishes before they could leave. How are your hands? Pruney?”

“You knew it was my day to be on sink duty, so you made a huge ass breakfast for yourself and only left me with toasted Wonder Bread. You’re a sick, cruel monster.”

“At least I toasted it for you,” she said sweetly. “The entire loaf, too.”

“How do you think it makes me feel to wake up to the smell of a breakfast burrito, only to get pointed to fucking Wonder Bread?”

“I just thought it fit your standards.”

Ox whispered, “But I love Wonder Bread…”

“Why do you hate each other so much?”

They looked at their friends, and then at each other, suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Hate? Oh my lord, nah fam. No, no, no,” they wheezed. “Who hates who? Us? Me? Nah, you got it so wrong, my dudes.”

Confusion settled into their friends’ faces; awkward laughter joined in.

“Ah,” Maka sighed, calming down. “Guys, come on. What on earth are you saying?”

Liz waved a tentative hand. “Well, you’re always insulting each other, and smacking, and angry, and-- I don’t know, acting like you do?”

“Like that time you tripped Maka while she was carrying her lunch,” Tsubaki chimed.

“Or when you both started throwing other people’s shoes at each other,” said Soul.

Kilik muttered, “Sometimes with the person still attached to said shoes.”

“As if you all haven’t been tossed around as weapons or meisters before,” Black Star snorted.

“That’s an entirely different thing,” Liz said. “Come on, what the everloving fuck is going on with you two?”

Black Star threw an arm over Maka’s shoulder, who reciprocated the action, grinning.

“No, we don’t hate each other. We’re just offensive soulmates,” she explained.

“Sarcastic squad goals,” said her roommate.

“A deplorable duo.”

“Bosom bitches.”

“Significant shitheads.”

“One true problems.”

“I’ve got ninety-nine problems and all of them are you!”

Black Star pointed a finger gun, “Ayy!”

“Seriously the only thing I hate about him is that he slurps his ramen--”

“Ah, ha. And she does the same. Like a goddamn vacuum picking up screws--”

“As I was saying-- he slurps like a toddler learning how to eat--”

“At least I know how to.”

“Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean, you little shit?”

“You need me to spell it out for you? I said, at least I know how to eat like a basic human being.”

“Well, at least I am a basic human being--”

“Yeah, basic as fuck!”

“Ok, now you want to fight, huh? Is that it? Let’s go, Star.”

“Prepare to get wrecked, Maks.”

The both of them clasped hands and butted foreheads, pushing each other with all of their might while their friends left for lunch. They were tired, all of them were goddamn tired.

Written for @mastar-week MaStar Week 2018 Day 1: Tomfoolery

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4