my everything hurts :C

Everything hurts. Your boobs, your lower back, your legs...fuck everything aches. It's the last month of your pregnancy and you want to die. Not literally, but god these last weeks have been hell. Simon has been so damn patient with you– just yesterday you snapped at him for "crunching too loud" on his cereal. He apologized and sat at the other end of the couch.

He's been an angel, and you want to cry for how mean you've been to him. He swears he gets whiplash from your mood swings, but he wouldn't have it any other way. You're carrying his baby– he has no right to complain about your moodiness.

Uncomfortable is the word you would use to describe the last days until you become a family of three. You can't even sneeze without peeing a little, its fucking embarrassing. Most of all, the new ache between your legs is insane. It's so sensitive down there, when the inseam of your leggings brushes the nub just right, you almost whine.

Simon's almost-new-dad status doesn't help. He works around the house and looks so fucking sexy doing it. You came back from a walk some days ago and found him sitting in the nursery, brows furrowed trying to decipher the crib instructions. You fought every urge not to pounce on him. Today though, its unbearable. You need to cum, like...right now.

"Babe my boobs hurt," the first hint...well, hardly a hint. But it's a start. Simon only humphs in response, apparently the documentary on Machu Picchu is more important than your current predicament.

"Uh hello? They fucking hurt, Simon" you press. Okay, watch your tone, breathe...he's just invested in the Incas right now.

"Can you help me?" you plead. Now he turns to look over at you. "What do you need, love?" his tone is calm, even that makes you feral. But fuck, what do you need? Well...

"Take off my shirt please" you give him your best doe eyes. Simon puts down the remote on the coffee table and scoots closer to you. "Arms up princess" your pussy pulses at the nickname, "My bra too please, it's killing me." He takes both garments off so gently. "That all you need?" Fuck no, not even close.

"Take your shirt off."

"Mine? Why?"

"I want you hold me."

He complies, of course he does. Simon has been fighting the horny demons too. Jerking off doesn't even help anymore– he needs you just as much as you need him.

His shirt is off and he lays down, you lay next to him. Chest to chest...or belly to belly is more accurate. It's just not enough. You grow impatient, "Babe, I need you." It's barely a whisper, but dripping with want. "I don't think we can anymore, doll." You want to stomp like a child. Your current position only lets you nudge his foot with yours. "Please baby. I think I'll die if I don't have you." He chuckles, "I'm so serious, Simon. If I don't cum in the next thirty minutes you wont have a wife anymore." He doesn't say anything, but you know he's thinking.

"Okay, flip over" Fuck yes. Finally. It's happening. You miss him...so much. The last time he took you to pound town was after your baby shower, two months ago.

You're on your back now and Simon is on his knees between your legs, looking down at you. "Promise me you'll tell me if it gets too much." He's serious and you shudder. "Yeah, I promise honey." He leans down and gives your cheek a kiss, then your forehead, and finally your lips. "Thank you" he says. He dips his head to plant wet kisses on your neck, your collarbone. He lays his head on your chest for a moment, and continues on his venture. Your breasts are equally as pleading as you are, begging to be touched. He gives them a light squeeze, he knows they're sensitive. Then he suckles on your left nipple, massaging the other. You mewl...its been so long.

You two used to go at it daily, even earlier in your pregnancy. Then your body started to change and things started to get uncomfortable, so sex was off the table until the baby arrived. Right now, you're so happy. His mouth feels amazing on your tits, but you need him somewhere else.

"Simon, baby" you manage to speak, "need your mouth on me"

"It is on you" he challenges.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't think I do" oh he loves you like this, he'll make you beg if he has to. But you don't have the patience, not tonight.

"On my pussy. Need your mouth on my pussy." You moan and arch into his touch. You can't even see that his hand is under your shorts and panties. Another belly problem.

"I've got you mama, don't worry." You swear you cream. He takes off your shorts and scoots back to dip his head between your legs. He presses his nose into your clothed core and inhales deep, "Fuck you smell amazing." Simon can be so nasty, but you love it.

You jerk hard when he presses a kiss to your pussy. He sits back a little, concerned. "You okay?" you can only nod in response. You're dizzy already and he hasn't even taken your panties off. He goes back to the task at hand. Simon drags his hands down your waist, hooks his fingers on the waistband of your panties and slides them off. The sight is to die for. Your clit is so big and puffy and red, practically screaming to be played with. He cant help but ask. "Are you in any pain, love?" you laugh. He takes that as a no.

Simon's tongue licks a fat stripe over your folds. You might die, fuck you're gonna die. He parts them and licks at the center. The way he suckles on your clit is fucking divine. Everything feels so much more intense with the pregnancy. Your legs are already twitching. Simon's tongue flicks over the angry red nub. It's getting you to the edge, fuck its too soon though. You want to cry, it cant be over yet.

"Baby no more please!" It's all you can manage to squeal. He sits back, breathless. Your juices coat his lips and chin. You wanna kiss him so bad. "C'mere please." You grab at his tattooed bicep and pull him on top of you. "Need your cock" you plead in his ear, "I need it so bad."

"Baby we cant, I'll hurt the ba-"

"Just the tip." Your negotiation skills are terrible, but you literally need this, "Please just rub your tip on me. That's all I need."

How the hell is he gonna say no to that? Simon gets up to take off his sweats and briefs. His cock springs up to his abdomen, you can see the pre that has smeared all over the tip. He gets on top of you once more, your legs immediately wrap around his waist.

"You're shaking, you cold?" Fuck you are shaking, his tongue on you and the sight of his dick have you fucking shaking. "No not cold babe, just fuck me please." Simon shakes his head and laughs, he'll never get over how needy you can get. He doesn't want to make you wait much longer, maybe you will die if he takes another minute.

He grabs his cock and rubs it between your folds, the tip bumps against your bundle of nerves– you both sigh at the contact. Once his dick is coated enough, he slides into your clenching hole. Simon has to remind himself that its just his tip for today, but the way your walls are fluttering on his head and sucking him in more...he's fighting every urge to not bury himself balls deep in you. You're a moaning mess at this point. He's moving his hips just enough to slide his cockhead in and out of you. You're almost there, but just need a little push. So you grab Simon's thumb, suck on it, and you guide it down to play with your clit. He looks at you and nearly cums too– his heavily pregnant wife, her legs spread wide open literally creaming on his dick. It could be his own personal porno.

A few more quick strokes of his cock send you over the edge. Your back arches and you moan loud, relief and pleasure wash over you. You have to smack his hand away from your pussy from the sensitivity. Simon is fucked out, he's chasing his high too.

"Where do you want it?" He's frantic, hopefully you read his mind.

"On my belly..wan' it on my belly" you respond, breathless. That was it. That was his push.

Simon pulls out and strokes himself a couple of more times. His tip a lighter color than before he fucked you, it's probably the layer of your cum. He puts his hand next to your head and leans over you. The slick fwop fwop from his dick makes you dizzy all over again. He cums hard. His seed shoots out in long strings over your tummy. He groans loud next to your ear.

"Fuuuuck, look at that. Look at the mess we made." It is a mess. You can't see the dark spot the couch has now, but that's something you'll deal with later.

Simon is still staring at the marking he gave you. He reaches over and grabs his cellphone. It'd be a sin if he didn't capture this moment. He then grabs his tossed shirt and cleans you up, stomach and pussy.

"I can't get up" you whine.

"C'mon we have to shower."

"Carry me" you jut out your bottom lip. He can't help but kiss you, his darling wife.

So carry you he does. He also washes your hair in the shower and gives some extra love to your belly. As many changes that you both have gone through, he's content to know that you'll always want him, and he damn sure will always want you.

a/n: literally ignore this rushed ass ending y'all 😖 dad!simon brainrot is tew real !! maybe i'll write some headcanons since i am not able to write long fics like this one without sounding silly LMAO

You'll Fit So Nicely You'll Keep Me Intact

Author's Note: Hello Hello! Not my GIF, please don't think it is, but it is my fic! I asked a few days ago if I should do Bane or touch-starved Tommy, and it was pretty clear I should do my sweet summer child Tommy boy. I just really think this big tough fighter needs to take a break and be held every once in awhile. And you can't tell me this man wouldn't have the sweetest moans. Fight me on it you can't. Please Please PLEASE reblog, like, or comment on this if you liked it. I live my day to day life craving validation.

If you absolutely hated it, also let me know! I admit I'm not the best at writing, and I'm willing to learn so I can feed my Tommy Conlon addiction. Ok, that's all, be fed!

2400+ words?! C'mon, that's gotta be enough to make you proud.

The whole fiasco was genuinely an accident.

The two of you, in his small cramped apartment, helping each other make dinner, because you couldn't remember whose turn it was, walking around each other like you had been doing it for years, because you had been.

You had been by Tommy for as long as you can remember, through those years where puberty slammed in the door and decked you directly in the throat (and other places), through the time where his family had slowly fallen apart, and into the years where he had joined the US Marine Corps.

Those years had been hell. At least when he moved away you were still able to text him annoying day-to-day updates and talk in the quiet nights when no one was awake to hear you admit how much you missed each other. But when he joined the Marines, you heard even less from your Tommy, and the ache you felt for him only grew.

When he came back, he had came back for good, immediately seeking you out with the promise of your old relationship back. And things went back to normal, slotted into place perfectly.

Except the insane amount of pining that you went through every waking hour you saw his stupidly attractive face.

But you weren't going to think about that. There was spaghetti to be made.

"Those are done." Tommy nodded his head to the noodles as he made the salad. You sneered to yourself, still pissed that he got the easy part.

"No, they're not, look, that one's still hard-"

"That's what she said."

"It's still undercooked you jerk. Can you please let me cook in peace? You're over there, doing the bare minimum, you ass."

"Hey, if this isn't tossed right, the whole thing is ruined. And those noodles are definitely done. We can get them in the sauce before the garlic bread is done so it'll cool down a bit. Look." All the sudden Tommy was crowded up behind you. Your breath did something funny. Probably the steam from the boiling water. Because, you know, it's so hard to breathe around.

Tommy took the spoon you were using to stir and managed to scoop up a single noodle. He then carefully picked it up and threw it on the cabinet. It stuck, but looked like it would fall via a strong sneeze.

"See? Done." You looked behind you to stare up at the infuriating man. He smiled and tilted his head. You had the sudden urge to hit him. With your mouth. Damn it.

He turned around, not giving you a chance to argue with him. That was his first mistake. As a MMA fighter, the idiot should know never to turn your back on the enemy.

You scooped up another noodle with your spoon. You waited until he was truly busy with cutting the tomatoes up for the salad.

You aimed for his head. It wrapped around the back of his neck with a soft splat. He startled for a moment, and then set the knife down and stared forward, still not turning around to look at you.

"You know what, now it's done. Now it's stickin'." You were struggling to hold it together, desperately trying not to laugh as you turned off the stovetop and set the pan aside.

You felt strong arms envelop you from behind, and you let out a loud laugh as you felt your feet leave the floor. Tommy, spinning you around before setting you on the counter. You've really put yourself it a bad position.

Well, if you're being honest, probably the best damn position you've ever been in.

Except that the bastard started tickling you. More laughter spilled out of you, uncontrollable at this point.

"Tommy!" You were out of breath from the constant attack. What happened to never turn your back on the enemy? "Tommy, what are we in-" More laughter as his joined yours. You two were so close you could feel his shoulder dip every time he rumbled a laugh. "what are we in 6th grade now- Tommy!"

You could feel his laughter huff by your ear, and you knew you had to resort to dirty tactics. If he wanted to play by middle school standards, then you had no choice but to stoop down to his level.

Tommy was very distracted trying to murder you by laughter alone, and he looked like he was having the time of his life. He never even realized your hands were so close to his head. He was in the middle of another fit of giggles when he felt your nimble hands glide through his hair. He had half a second to understand what you were planning, and he was just about to pull away, to get as far from you as possible before-

You gave a solid pull to his hair. You felt satisfaction shoot through your body as his laugh choked off, his body going rigid underneath your fingers. His breath stuttered and his hands instantly fell from your sides to grasp the edge of the counter.

You didn't quite understand what was going on at first, the only thing on your mind being that you'd won the battle. You couldn't help the smug smile from sliding across your expression, or the snarky little giggle that bubbled it's way out.

"What's wrong, Tommy? Did someone school you at your own game, hmm? Maybe next time you'll think before you-"

"Could you please let go?" Tommy sound winded, like he'd just fought a few rounds with someone much bigger than him. It made you pause, and then frown.

Your fingers loosened from his hair, but you didn't lower your arm just yet. You couldn't fathom why Tommy was acting this way, when he instigated the rough-housing. And you knew for damn sure you hadn't hurt him. You had seen the idiot stub his toe on his coffee table before, and the only reaction out of the fighter was a pause, a look up to the ceiling, and one long, drawn out sigh.

So even though he sounded like he was trying to fight for his life, you know it absolutely wasn't because you had hurt him in anyway. Tommy could break you five times over.

You looked down at his hands. Not only was he grasping the edge of the counter top, but his knuckles were white, like he was anchoring himself. You glanced to his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration. Was he- was that a blush? His body was still pulled tight.

Experimentally, you lightly scraped your nails along his scalp.

If Tommy were to ever hear you call the sound that came from him a whimper, he'd probably swiftly and effectively dispose of your body. But it was a fucking whimper.

His eyes snapped open wide and met yours. You saw his utter mortification. You would say you felt guilty, but having your long time crush whimper while slotted between your thighs as you sat a top a kitchen counter really did things for you.

You mentally reprimanded yourself for letting your mind fall into the gutter as your friend so obviously had a small break down.

Before you could get a word out, to try talk him down from whatever thoughts were swirling in that pretty head of his, Tommy was out of kitchen. Ah, so he's chosen drama today? Coming from a man who would rather fight his own brother than talk, you can't really find it in yourself to be surprised.

"Tom." You dropped down from the counter, heading toward the living room, which was the only way he could've gone. As you rounded the corner, you saw him pacing the length of the room, his hands interlaced behind his head, elbows out, eyes wild.

"Tommy." You smoothed out your voice, pictured yourself trying to calm down a particularly flighty horse. You know, if the horse were the love of your life and you were desperately trying to make things less weird between you two before the already delicate friendship collapsed.

At your gentle prod he stopped. He let his hands fall down to his sides. He huffed once. Crossed his arms, made a face, and then dropped them. His fists curled up into balls and he closed his eyes. He opened one and looked toward you.

"You didn't hear that."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your own arms to your chest.

He pointed to the kitchen. "That didn't happen."

Because you love your best friend very much, you didn't roll your eyes.

"Tommy. Calm down. Take a deep breath." He did not take a deep breath. You did for him. Then another one for you. You moved toward the couch, and the way he suddenly looked like he was about to sprint out the door didn't escape you. You held your hands up placatingly. Easy, boy.

You sat down, leaving enough room for him to sit beside you. He looked at you wearily. You gave him a pointed look, one that said this is something to be discussed, and there's no way you're getting out of it, and gently patted the space for him.

He looked like he'd rather do anything else. He eventually made his way to the spot and plunked down, but as close to the arm of the couch as possible.

You gave him a sweet smile. He looked away, but not before you caught the blush. You decided to let him speak first.

It was quiet for awhile. Your thoughts went to the noodles still sitting on the counter, probably cooling in the water making a film. He cleared his throat.

"I don't. Not a ton of people touch me." He stared dutifully in front of him. You stayed silent, afraid of scaring him into silence again. He shifted uncomfortably, letting out a growl of frustration. "I mean people touch me. I just meant. It's not. It's," He looked like each word was slowly strangling him, "Never that intimate. I guess. And never anyone like you."

You're eyebrows shot up. His head jerked toward you.

"Not like that, I mean like someone so pretty." You choked a little. He visibly flinched. "Ok. I think that's enough for tonight. I think I've made plenty an ass of myself for one God forsaken night." He made to move, but your hand covered his before you really thought about it. He immediately stopped, staring at your hand on top of his.

"Tommy, it's ok." He gave you a dubious look. "No, really. Lots of people don't know how to deal with touch when it's not normal for them-"

"I'm fine, I touch people all the time, it doesn't matter it's ridiculous-"

"Tommy." He stopped. You lifted both hands to slowly cradle his face. His eyes were panicky. He looked like he was fighting every instinct inside him. "Listen to me, love." His eyes widened. "You don't have to explain anything. I need you to know it's ok to freak out a little. It's ok for this to be new." You bit your lip. "It's ok if it feels good."

A small sound came from the fighter. His eyes slipped closed. It suddenly hit you. You sucked in a sharp breath, and you started to gently stroking his face to his neck.

"Oh Tommy. You spend all that time fighting in the ring, so much time dominating. You barely let anyone touch you before you knock them away." His dad was probably never there to offer him any type of physical love, and his mom was too distanced from anyone to truly give what Tommy craved. By that time, he had pushed his brother away, and you had never really noticed him to be very active in the dating area.

You could feel his control slipping, could feel him slowly letting you hold his head up while he explored the sensation of someone just feeling him. When he spoke, his speech was slightly slurred.

"Was always jus' scared."

"I know Tommy."

"Didn' want you t' leave."

"And why would I do something stupid like that."

There was a second of silence, but Tommy was too far in to go back now.

"Cuz' I only wanted you to touch. Only ever you." Your heart stopped. His eyes slowly opened, meeting yours. His gaze snapped to your lips, back up to your eyes. All it took was for your eyes to snap to his lush mouth, and he was surging to meet you.

You felt like you were melting, melding into him. His lips were sliding against yours, his hands suddenly huge, thumbs cupping your face while his hands rested on the sides of your neck. He kissed like you see him fight. The urgency and the power and the emotion. You ached all over.

You could hardly remember your name when you finally separated, heaving lungfuls of air. Maybe all that oxygen deprivation had really done something to your brain, because you might be having a stroke. It almost smelled like something was burning. Tommy's face did something funny and he sniffed the air.

Oh. OH. The garlic bread.

Both of you made a mad dash for the kitchen, Tommy arriving first and throwing the oven door open, grabbing whatever cloth he could find to take out the charred bread as you used a dishrag to flap away any smoke that spilled out.

Once he made sure his apartment wasn't going to burn down or that the ambulance wan't going to be making a surprise visit, he slumped against the counter, breathing heavily. You put your hands on your hips.

A few second went by, both of you trying to catch your breath. Tommy looked up at you. You met his eye.

You both melted into peeling laughter, trying to stay upright. It seemed like every time you two would get your shit together, you'd fall right back into cackles.

He finally reigned in the worst of the laughter, and slowly made his way to where you were standing. Your own laughs died down.

"Are we good?" you ask him gently. He nods his head, with his sweet smile.

"We're good" he replies gently. He gets this determined look on his face, and steps real close to you. He doesn't do anything else for awhile, instead looking to you, asking with questioning eyes.

You give him an encouraging smile. He smiles right back at you, and for the second time tonight, strong arms envelop you.

Mortality salience

Happy Holidays, @ceciliaspen​!

I ran with your platonic Valerie/Danny prompt, with a (mortality-based) horror theme and a good dash of angst! I hope you like it!

Ao3 FF

“So.” Danny tried to smile despite the screaming pain that overwhelmed his entire lower body. His tongue was sharp with the taste of blood, and he hoped the sudden renewed bleeding of a split lip didn’t ruin the attempt at a friendly expression. “Come here often?”

Valerie glared and curled her legs closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Shut up,” she snapped, and the familiarity of the insult would have been almost comforting if not for the fact that her typical vitriol was absent. Without it, she sounded hollow, and far more vulnerable than he ever could have imagined.

“Hey.” His lip stung, and Danny tried to think of something comforting as he wiped away the blood and ectoplasm that trickled down his chin. It streaked the back of his glove in a grisly smear of red and green. “I know this seems hopeless, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

She huddled tighter in on herself, but otherwise didn’t even acknowledge that he’d spoken. He sighed, catching how her glare faltered as he dabbed at his mouth again.

Water dripped through the broken gaps in the ceiling, landing on Valerie’s arm. A tremor visibly ran across her shoulders.

“Oh.” Danny pawed at the zipper in the hollow of his throat. Her dark green eyes followed as he drew it down as low as he could before shimmying his shoulders out of the waterproof fabric.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Danny pressed against the wooden beam that pinned his lower half to the ground despite the resulting spike in his pain, peeling the HAZMAT as low as it would go. “Suit’s waterproof,” he grunted. “I won’t get hypothermia, but you might.” It wouldn’t go past his waist, thwarted by the beam that sat smugly across his thighs and pressed into his pelvis with a weight that felt like a thousand tonnes. Pain throbbed through him, cutting breaths short and making every movement agony.

He threw out a freshly bare hand, ignoring the way her gaze lingered on the tendrilling feathers of the death scar that wrapped around his arms before disappearing beneath the colour-inverted NASA shirt that had been beneath his suit. “Knife,” he said in response to her questioning look.

When she made no movement he huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Why?”

“So I can cut my suit for you.” Danny wriggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. “Cold. Hypothermia. I’d rather not have another ghost to deal with if you die, y’know?”

“Not that.” More water dripped onto her hair, and she shivered again and tried to move out of the way without closing the gap between them in the confined space. “Why won’t you hurt me?”

He groaned, curling his fingers in a gesture for her to hurry up and pass it over. “I’ve never hurt you, and do you really think I fight those ghosts at three in the morning for fun?”

Valerie’s frown grew deeper, and the faint lines in her forehead folded into creases. “You’re a ghost too. It doesn’t need to make sense.”

He flapped his hand. “Semantics. Just pass the knife, my arm’s getting tired.”

“Your arm can’t get tired.” She still didn't move. “You don’t have lactic acid, or even muscles.”

“Like I said, semantics.” He flapped his hand again and tried not to whine. “Come on.”

Valerie chewed her lip before scooting closer and swatting his hand out of the way. “Like I’m going to give you one,” she snapped, leaning across him and producing a pocket knife from her pocket. Danny leaned back against the broken ceiling that had collapsed around them, ignoring the screaming pain that lanced through his gut and hips, and positioning himself so that nothing dug too painfully into his back.

Valerie’s long curls hung in the space between them, brushing against his mouth. He raised a hand to push them out of the way.

She jerked back at the movement, knife up and immediately pointing at his throat. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

He froze, hand still halfway to his chin. “Your hair was in my face. I was just going to move it.” He made a show of wiping the back of his hand across his sluggishly bleeding mouth, holding it up so she could see how it was smeared with blood and ectoplasm. “Didn’t think you wanted this on you.”

More water dripped through the ruined ceiling, landing on Danny’s nose. He sneezed, then moaned as pain flared through him. Once it died down he rubbed his knuckles where the raindrop had hit, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

He didn’t miss the horror that crept into her expression, slackening her jaw and smoothing away the crinkles in her brow as her eyes grew impossibly wide. “You… you’re breathing,” she choked, “and… is that…?”

Her free hand grabbed his wrist, fingers like pincers against his skin. Danny winced as she twisted so that the back of his hand faced her again.

“Blood.” She stared for a moment longer, then dropped his wrist and jammed her fingers in the hollow where his ear met his jawline.

“Wait,” he gasped, trying to pull away, but she shoved the knife back into her pocket and used her other hand to hold his shoulders down, leaning heavily across his chest. Danny cried out, pushing weakly against her weight as fire licked through his lower half and wrapped around his torso. “V-Ahhh, stop!”

She drew back at his scream, fingers still pressed beneath his jaw as her eyes followed the movement of his heaving chest.

“What the hell?!” Danny gasped once the pain retreated back to his trapped lower half, lying in wait until the next opportunity to overwhelm him. “I’m pretty sure my pelvis is broken, y’know? I’m trying to save your life and you don’t think I’m hurt enough?”

Her fingernails dug deeper into his throat, and Danny whined and batted her away. She allowed him to, and they both sat in the gloom, their harsh breaths out of sync so that the empty spaces between hers were filled with the pained rasps of his.

“You’re alive.”

He couldn’t look at her anymore. Dread curled painfully beneath his lungs, or maybe it was just the pooling toxins finally leaking from his crushed flesh. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back until it leaned against the uneven rubble. “Yeah,” he whispered, and the confession bore the exhausting, undefeatable weight of a millstone around his neck. “For now.”

He listened to the rain in between their breaths. Several drops fell onto his bare face and arms before she moved with a rustle of cloth, and then a hand, far warmer than his skin but colder than it should be, gently closed over his shoulder. “What do you mean, for now? How can you be alive when you’re a ghost?”

Danny shrugged at her soft question and regretted it instantly as the movement tugged at lower muscles that rippled with white-hot pain. He winced, curling his hands into fists and taking a couple of grounding breaths before trusting his voice. “If I say semantics enough times will you drop it?”

Her grip tightened, her gentle tone disappeared under familiar sharpness. “Phantom. Tell me right now. What. Do. You. Mean?”

Danny laughed humorlessly, and it quickly dissolved into a whimper.

“I’ll shake you,” she threatened, and the grip on his shoulder became painful.

Danny cracked open an eye to give her his best unimpressed frown. “I’m dying, Val. Have some respect.”

The light was rapidly fading, sinking into twilight, and Danny could barely make out her expression. The only source of illumination was the glow of his own body, but it didn’t do much beyond making his own condition unflinchingly apparent. Her mouth worked, opening and closing as though she was trying to figure out what to say, and Danny pounced on the opportunity to derail the conversation. “Jumpsuit,” he reminded her, gesturing to his clothing with the smallest movement possible. “It’s no good both of us dying here.”

She took a sharp breath and drew back, shaking her head. “No, you… you’re so cold. You need it.”

Danny huffed, but it came out more as a pained whine. “I have an ice core. Hypothermia isn’t an issue for me.”

She leaned closer again, and her eyes shone green as they reflected his own spectral glow back at him. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

He pursed his lips. “Come on, Val. You’ve seen me shoot ice out my hands. I can’t do that without an ice core.”

She regarded him for a few more breaths before something in his expression seemed to convince her, and then Valerie shifted to crouch right beside him. She tugged at his suit, far more gently than he’d anticipated, and Danny lay back and let her work.

It wasn’t long before she made an apologetic sound. “I need to reach around your back.”

He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. His ribs were beginning to ache. “Alright. Just… give me a second.”

She obligingly leaned away, and Danny pressed his elbows into the hard, jagged chunks of what felt like roof tiles. He took another deep breath, screwed his eyes shut, and pushed.

The broken fragments of his pelvis ground together. He thought he might have screamed, but then her arm looped around his back and held him upright. Danny sagged against the support, gasping as tears blurred his vision and poured down his face, and pain pierced him with a million burning knives.

She tugged at his suit and Danny sobbed, his head lolling forward so that glowing tears dripped onto his shirt. “Hurry,” he begged, and the jerky one-armed sawing of the knife at his lower back melded with the pulsing anguish below his waist. It spread up, through his gut and chest, and engulfed him with burning and darkness.

The next time he registered any sensation, Danny’s ears resonated with ringing. He blinked, and sucked in a shaky breath.

“You back?”

Something sharp pressed into his scalp, and he shifted his pounding head. Right. Rubble. Soft fingers slipped beneath his skull, smoothing out the rough surface, and Danny tried to make an appreciative noise.

All that made it past his lips was a faint whine, and he heard her sigh as those same fingers brushed his overlong fringe away from where rainwater made it stick across his eyes. “Phantom?”

He blinked again, blearily, and her face finally came into focus. The shadows beneath her eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks were thrown into stark contrast by his ghostly glow, and he was startled by the realisation that she’d lost the round softness that had once been there. She probably didn’t mind the change, but he felt suddenly sad, as though something precious was gone.

“Sorry,” he rasped.

Her other hand rested on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. “You scared me.”

He frowned. The water on her face caught his spectral light, but he had no way to know if it was tears or rain. “Never thought I’d… hear you say that,” he wheezed. Talking hurt, and the pain in his hips had crept higher, raking sharp fingers through his gut and clenching around his ribs. “Maybe sitting up… was a bad idea.”

The hand still on his forehead pressed heavier for a moment, and then she pulled back. With the staticy rustle of waterproof HAZMAT, she slid her arms into the sleeves of the top half of his jumpsuit. The zipper was still attached to half of its teeth, and after a few attempts, she managed to re-thread the other side and pull it up to her chin.

Danny used the moment to settle. He tried to relax as much of his body as he could, focusing on each muscle that wasn’t currently being crushed and forcing it to unclench. The effort was rewarded with a marked decrease in the pain that pressed against his ribs, but every breath still throbbed as his lower muscles protested any movement.

He looked over at Valerie, catching her staring at his face, and she quickly looked away.

He didn’t know why he asked his next question, except to fill the silence. “Why did I scare you?”

Any remnants of daylight were gone by now, but he could still make out her scowl in the unnatural light cast by his body. Instead of answering, Valerie scooted back so that she was sitting against the ruined wall. Their tiny clearing in the ruined building was no bigger than the interior of a car, but her new position moved her out of the way of the majority of the rainwater that dripped through the small gaps in the ruined ceiling. He thought she wasn’t going to answer him by the time she finally spoke. “What are you?”

The question wasn’t that surprising, but laughter clenched Danny’s lungs and forced its way out as yet another pained wheeze. “Who knows?” he choked, blinking past fresh tears that were brought on by the stabbing pain. “Damn it, Val… If I knew, then maybe… maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.” He sucked in a few more ragged breaths. “I mean, if I knew, like… ah, ouch… like really knew, then maybe I’d have told you… and… you wouldn’t have… have shot me into the ceiling.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” she snapped, and he held up a hand.

“I’m not… blaming you. Just… thought we might have been friends.”

“I don’t make friends with ghosts,” she snapped, and pulled his ruined suit tighter around herself.

Danny dropped his hand back to his side. He’d caught his breath a bit, but talking still hurt more now than it had before. “Y’know, Val… I think you might have… If I’d told you I was half human before… the whole thing with the ghost dog... which I swear was an accident.”

Water dripped in the darkness, and wind tugged at the trees somewhere beyond their cocoon of broken wood and plaster.

“You’re part human,” she whispered, the soft words almost lost in the weather.

Danny gave a slow blink with a gentle tilt of his head in an affirmative gesture. “Lab accident,” he clarified, struggling to speak above a wheeze himself. “I was full human before, so technically I’m half ghost. The jargon is that I’m a halfa.”

“Whose jargon?” she asked, and Danny thought he might have sensed a genuinely curious undertone. “It sounds stupid.”

“The other ghosts.” He shifted the hand on the side visible to her in a general so-so gesture instead of trying to shrug. “Most of them don’t really like me.”

She snorted. “What, because you fight them?”

“Nah.” He worked the words around his mouth slowly, trying not to seem like he was out of breath from their conversation. “The living dead thing kinda… kinda ruins it for them. I fight them... because they like trying world dominion.”

“Right.”

He watched as she looked down at her hands, fiddling with the jagged shreds where her new clothing abruptly cut off above her hips.

“Is that what the scar’s from?” she finally asked, and he thought her gaze might have fixed on the glowing Lichtenberg tendrils.

Danny let out a long, shaky breath. “It’s rude to ask.” He said it as gently as he could, trying to push down a pain that wasn’t entirely physical. The fine hairs on his skin fizzed for a moment, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as they burned out with the tiny sizzle of electrical sparks that quickly died in the night. His scars shone brighter too at the topic, and he heaved his thoughts away before he could properly revisit the trauma. “Don’t… don’t ask. Please.”

The plastic rustle of his suit told him that she was moving again, and Danny turned his head a bit more to see her better as she repositioned herself. Trees creaked in the storm, their tossing leaves providing a backdrop of static. Finally, she spoke. “Is that what’s going to happen?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, exhaustion and throbbing anguish weighing down the words.

“To us,” she said. “We’re never getting out of here, are we?”

Danny sighed, regretting the movement as his ribs twinged. “While I’m still baffled… why you chased me without your suit… that gun won’t stop my powers forever… So no, you won’t die here… I’ll phase us out, soon as… as my core’s back online.”

A sniffle broke past the storm’s noise. “You’re hurt though. And… if you’re still alive… you said it yourself, before. That you’re dying.”

“I know.” Danny squeezed his eyes shut. They burned with exhaustion. “It’s… a race against time, I guess… My core heals me really fast… so if it comes back in time… I should be okay.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Danny didn’t answer what should have been an obvious question. Before, when he’d first been pinned and the abandoned building had collapsed around them, he’d thought it would all be fine. She’d screamed and cried as she fruitlessly clawed at the rubble, but he’d laid back to wait, thinking that it was just another Thursday.

Now, though? Now a cold emptiness that had nothing to do with cryokinesis leaked into his marrow.

If his core didn’t kick back in soon, this might actually be it.

Valerie finally whispered over the wind again. “If… if it comes to that, who should I tell?”

“What?” He opened his eyes again, trying to make out more than her outline. Her question filled him with dread.

She cleared her throat, and asked again, louder this time. “You said that you were… are… human. So if you do die here, who should I tell?”

He closed his eyes, tears slipping free. “Jazz.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed dryly and licked his lips before trying again. “Jazz Fenton. She’ll tell… Um, she’ll make sure that the right… the right people know.” The faltering words weren’t blocked by his pain, but by a tightening throat as he tried not to picture his loved ones learning that he was never coming home.

“Jazz Fenton?” He tone was just shy of disbelieving. “Really?”

“Just do it please,” he choked, and more tears trailed down his temples. One dripped into his ear while the other disappeared into his hair.

The ruins rattled as wind slammed into the building, and something shifted in their tiny cavern.

Valerie swore. “How didn’t I realise?” she choked, and it sounded like she tried to muffle a sob with her hands. “You… you look just… just like him.”

Danny sniffed, making his chest throb. He blinked a few times before looking at her shadowy form. The reflective collar of his jumpsuit directed his glow back at him, and he gave what felt like a truly pathetic smile. “Hi, Val.”

“Danny?” she whispered, his name tight with her tears.

“Yeah.”

She swore again, and pitched forward onto her hands and knees, crawling across the gap between them. Her hand wrapped around his, and he squeezed with what little strength he could give.

“What have I done?” Her proximity shed more of his glow onto her face, and tears caught the light as they dripped off her chin.

“It’s okay,” he breathed. The chill in his bones was spreading now, numbing whatever it touched. The tempering of his pain would have been a relief if it didn’t clench the cold hand of fear around his heart.

She lifted his hand to her cheek, and her skin was almost unbearably hot. “I’m sorry,” she wailed, and her tears flowed over his fingers. “I’m sorry, Danny, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

He closed his eyes again, trying to keep breathing as she chanted the apology over and over. The ice creaking through his veins drowned out all other senses, and Danny gasped as his chest seized in a sudden cramp.

Light flashed through his closed eyelids, and in an instant, power burst from his core. The weight of his human form settled over him like a shroud and Danny instinctively dissolved, opening his eyes in time to see the beam slip through his intangible lower half.

“Pull me out,” he gasped.

“What?!”

The familiar white rings were blinding after so long in the darkness. “Just pull!” he shouted, and then her hands found his shoulders and hauled, and Danny screamed as all of the pain from before came crashing back and the shattered bones in his hips and thighs ground together and stabbed sharp ends into what had to be every single nerve ending he had.

The lights disappeared, and his pulse beat through his ears before sinking into ringing silence.

His next thought was that something irregular and hard was digging into the space between his shoulder blades, and that he ached all over. Light brushed against his eyelids, not bright enough to be direct sunlight but still definitely natural, judging from the fresh air that filled his lungs. Danny swallowed, his mouth thick and fuzzy, and rolled onto his side with a groan.

Everything beneath his waist throbbed with the motion and he whined, curling an arm around his gut.

“Hey.”

It took a moment to place the casual greeting, and when foggy thoughts finally pushed past the pain in his hips and legs, Danny’s eyes shot open. “Val?” he croaked, squinting in the light.

“Thought you wouldn’t make it for a hot minute.” She carded her fingers through his hair.

“Great.” His tongue stuck in his mouth, and he swallowed again and let his eyes fall shut. “Got any water?”

“Not unless you drink the mud,” she said, and then pressed her hand against his shoulder. “Your shirt’s still damp, though. You could probably suck some water from that.”

In any other circumstance it would have been humiliating, but after the night he’d just had Danny figured that pride wasn’t really an issue here. He blindly groped for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up to his mouth, sucking the slightest amount of heavenly moisture from the fabric.

It wasn’t much, but still managed to clear away the majority of the stickiness.

He tugged his shirt back down before opening his eyes to look at her again. “What happened?”

She snorted. Beams of sunlight broke through the cracked ceiling, illuminating her flyaway curls from behind. “What do you think? Your core started working, I guess. It turned you into the human you, anyway. You went intangible or something. I pulled you out. You passed out, which is no surprise since you really should have died.” She gave a choked laugh that held an edge of hysteria. “I then sat next to you all night counting your breaths and heartbeats, and once the wind died down I listened to your bones grinding back into place.”

He sighed, and the pressure of such a deep inhalation nudged against healing flesh with the dull ache of a fresh bruise. “Thanks for pulling me out.”

She shrugged, and he realised that she no longer wore his jumpsuit. “It’s the least I could do.”

“I guess I am your ticket out of here,” he joked. “Have you heard any rescuers yet?”

“With the storm we had last night?” she scoffed. “I doubt their priority is an old collapsed building that they think is abandoned.”

She lapsed into silence, and Danny found himself picturing her sitting there, alone with his corpse still pinned down by the beam. He pushed the thought away. “My core’s still a bit fuzzy,” he confessed, “probably from the massive healing job. Give me a little longer before I try phasing us out. You wouldn’t want to get stuck halfway through a wall. Trust me, I’d know.”

She hummed. Wind wormed its way through the shattered structure, stirring the air with life. Danny laid his head back and listened as windswept leaves whispered in the spaces between soft bird calls somewhere beyond the walls.

“I don’t suppose you’ll keep my secret?” he finally asked.

She sighed, and hope leapt in his chest as she tapped a finger against her chin with an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression. “Well, it’s not like I didn’t just have an entire night to rethink everything I know about you.”

“And?” he pressed when she didn’t elaborate.

Her mouth curved, and he realised that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d witnessed her smile without malice. “I figured that I could use a bit of backup sometimes, y’know.” She held out a hand. “What do you say, Spooky? Partners?”

He took her hand and shook it with as much strength as he could. “Welcome to Team Phantom, Red.”

She broke their grip with a guffaw, her smile breaking into an outright grin. “Seriously? Team Phantom?”

He laughed too, even though it hurt, but then her words from a moment ago finally registered and the laughter died as quickly as it had come. “Wait a minute, did you just nickname me Spooky?”

She cackled, and as her eyes gleamed wickedly he almost wished he’d died after all. “Well, I guess I could always just call you Inviso-Bill!”

Jurdan Fanfic: Highschool AU Part 3

Summary: Cardan accidentally stays at Jude's and now, he is sick. Jude takes care of him while he fights his own feelings.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Prologue» Part 1» Part 2

Cardan POV (Dream)

Her warm, soft lips are against mine, her lashes tickling my cheeks as I caress her back, bringing her closer to me. She lets out a whimper, which might have been my name, and I continue to savour this feeling,

Until...

I fall to the ground, head spinning as Jude walks toward me, her expression unreadable.

"Weak", her voice echoes in the room, her hand now at the nape of my neck and slowly sliding into my hair, grasping it hard enough to make me wince.

"Weak", she says again, but this time the voice isn't hers. It's...

Balekin.

"I am not weak", my throat is dry as I repeat, "I am not weak, I AM NOT WEAK!!!"

Jude POV

"What the... CARDAN GREENBRIAR WAKE UP!!!!", I scream into his ear whilst shaking him hard.

He wakes up with a jerk, falling off from the chair in the process.

That's gotta hurt.

I hadn't known he had slept outside, in the same balcony where I had punched him. I had gone to sleep shortly after cleaning up the kitchen since I had to make myself dinner after what happened yesterday; Cardan had been there but I thought he had gone by the time I went to sleep.

That is, until this morning when I found him sleeping peacefully on the wooden chair placed in the center of the balcony, oblivious of all the problems of this world and the fact that I was watching him sleep.

"What was that for?", he shouts but his voice sounds different; it isn't like his usual wicked one and I choose to ignore that fact but when he sneezes...

Almost instinctively, I reach out and gently touch his forehead.

"Cardan, you are burning up. You shouldn't have slept outside, you idiot. Now, you're sick", I say as he tries to stand up but fails to do so and I grab him as fast as I can, placing his arm over my shoulder, making sure he doesn't fall.

Cardan POV

Her scent fills my nostrils as I nuzzle my face in her neck, leaning onto her.

She lays me down on a soft mattress, her hair falling over me for just a second before she opens the curtains, the morning light turning her chestnut brown hair into a more caramel colour.

How can she be so beautiful?

I had always been taught, no, forced to believe that orphans were no where near to us Greenbriars, that they weren't even close to dirt. That if we wanted, we could destroy them.

But looking at Jude...

I would never be able to touch her, let alone destroy her. And even if I tried to, I would never succeed; she never breaks. In spite of being an orphan, in spite of the problems she has with her family, in spite of not having someone to pour her heart out to, she knows how to defend herself and is well-versed in attack, at least better than me, regardless of verbal or physical.

She has a gift, a gift of getting under people's skin and she knows it. She knows that and uses it as a weapon, her weapon.

And that is why I hate her.

She can destroy me in a matter of seconds if she wanted to; and I have tried every possible way to undermine her and yet, she never yields. I hate the fact that she is an orphan and still better than me. I hate that I think about her all the time. I hate that I dream of her every night.

I hate her.

Jude POV

Cardan keeps shivering despite the two blankets I have given him, even though he has covered himself up to the neck.

I start to worry more with every passing minute, for he is getting worse and only one question keeps repeating in my mind as I sit beside him.

Will he be okay?

Cardan POV

My vision starts to blur, the image of Jude slowly turning into a silhouette as my eyes start to close, but I am interrupted by her when she says, "No, Cardan. You have to stay awake".

Beads of sweat trickle down my face to my neck, turning the blue of the blanket a shade darker.

"I can't", I say.

I feel as if I cannot breathe, as if I am swallowing bile each time she gives me water, or soup, or whatever she is giving me.

"I can't"

Jude POV

My heart comes up to my throat as he gets worse.

The only sounds in the room are of his uneven breathing and of the water dripping from the maroon towel I have placed on his forehead.

The only thing I can do is sigh.

It has been almost an hour since I brought him inside and so far, no luck. I know I shouldn't be worried, I know I shouldn't be this restless but I just... can't help it.

His breath becomes increasingly ragged, his raven black hair now damp with sweat, yet he feels cold. He closes his eyes shut as if from pain, a thousand creases forming on his eyelids.

"Hey, hey", I say softly, trying to console him as I cradle his head in my lap and I can feel his hot breath against my legs even through the thick, fluffy socks I am wearing.

"Jude", he whispers, his voice barely audible.

"Shhh", is the only thing I say before I give him some medicine.

My parents used to take care of me like this; they would kiss my wounds when I would fall down, they would read my sisters and I stories all the time, of princes saving their princesses from witches and beasts. Taryn had always loved such stories and though I enjoyed listening to them, it always felt stupid: waiting for a prince to come and save me.

Cardan POV

I open my coal black eyes, only to see Jude sitting on the blue chair beside the bed I lay upon, her hair sprawled across her shoulders.

"How long have I been here?", I ask.

"Two nights. One when you slept outside and the second when you were...well", she gestures toward me, her voice breaking slightly as she stands up, towering over me.

All of a sudden, I have this strong urge to take her into my arms. She took care of me, even when I am her greatest enemy.

No.

"I have to go", I say and make the grave mistake of pushing her when she tries to stop me. Ashamed of what I have done, I rush out of the room without any thank you's or apologies.

Jude POV

My blood is boiling with rage as I follow him to the living room.

"What do you want, huh?!", I can only see red as I push him, harder than he had pushed me.

"Don't mess with me, Duarte. You have defied me more than once. I can destroy you in a matter of seconds. This taunting is just the beginning. That push was nothing! Believe me, Jude, this is the least of what I can do".

"You are the one that shouldn't be messing with me, Cardan. You think you can humiliate me, control me? Let me tell you this: I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere orphan and you are a Greenbriar. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this"-I throw his words back at him-" this is the least of what I can do"

Cardan looks at me as if he has never seen me this livid before. And maybe he hasn't.

I expect him to shout or laugh at me at best but...

Nothing.

He just stares at me, a fire burning in his eyes, a fire of fury, one that I started. He doesn't utter a word as he turns on his heel and storms out.

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Handholding #39 (museum) for Ryn/Red? seems right up their alley :)

39. holding hands in a museum to pull them to the next exhibition

Oh, it absolutely does, here we GO. This is set in canon between chapters 5 and 6, but there's no spoilers or anything for either. Just fluff.

--------

Even with the Order growing like it was, days off were still a treat. Days off that coincided with Red's day off felt like a luxury or gift straight from the hand of the One-God. And the fact he'd jumped straight to "oh, we have to spend at least part of it together, then," when they realized the overlap made Xaeryn smile so wide her face hurt.

She was the one to suggest the museum, after they'd spent the morning reading so long their eyes crossed, and one particularly ancient tome made Red sneeze five times in a row. He agreed with alacrity that suggested he'd been thinking something similar and the two of them carefully reshelved their stacks of books before heading out into the streets of Haven.

"So, where do we start when we get there?" Xaeryn asked as they headed toward the museum at a deliberate mosey.

Red rubbed the back of his neck and flashed a small sheepish smile. "Is it a cop-out to say I don't care because I hope we have time to see everything?"

She laughed and looped her arm through his. "Alright, I'll pick, even if I am hoping the same thing. Let's start in the west gallery and work around to finish in the east."

"Sounds good to me," he amiably.

The museum was rather empty when they arrived; most people opting to spend the first nice day after a week-long heat wave outdoors. Still, their iladrin drew suspicious initial looks from even those few. The Shepherd medallion hanging prominently around Xaeryn's neck kept it from being anything more, as did the fact she was recognizable to most, but the knee-jerk distrust still made her roll her eyes.

"How long d'you think you'll make it before someone asks you to sign something?" Red murmured, amusement heavy in his voice.

Xaeryn rolled her eyes again, with a smile this time, and scanned the hall. "I don't see any children, who're usually the one to start that, so I'll likely escape unbothered." Hopefully. She hated the notoriety she'd achieved. The other patrons would steal glances and whisper gossip about the Hero of Haven, but if the One-God loved her at all no one would try to talk to her.

"Act like a tourist, that'll probably help," Red joked, and she laughed. "I'm serious, Ryn."

"No, I know. It's a good idea." She arched a brow at him. "Shall we test if it actually works?"

"Might as well," he said, laughing a he ran one hand through his hair.

Xaeryn bit back a smile and reached over to smooth a couple particularly wild spikes of hair left in the motion's wake. "Doing research on our day off, Liefred?"

Red grinned boyishly at her teasing tone. "It's fun. And it was your idea, Xaer."

She couldn't argue with either of those excellent points(which was absolutely unrelated to the things his smile was doing to her), so she simply nodded in concession and headed for a nearby pair of statues.

They started in the same place, but gradually drifted apart as they made their way further into the museum and their attention was caught by different things. Xaeryn lost track of Red altogether somewhere around the Relics of the Early Church exhibit, which he skimmed through with only a cursory glance and she spent nearly half an hour perusing every last placard and artifact there. It was fine; they'd reconnect eventually. (It wasn't like this was a date or anything, right?)

Xaeryn was engrossed in studying the fading and weathered map central to the Eastward Explorers exhibit when a hand settled on her wrist and she started to jerk back.

"Just me," Red assured her, and she stopped halfway through the motion. "Sorry, I forgot- Xaer, you have to see this!"

Knowing now it was him, she let him grab her hand and drag her down the hall toward another exhibit. An actual giggle escaped her when she saw what had him so worked up.

"All the artifacts and treasures in here, trust you to get excited over a book," she teased.

"Like you're any different," Red grinned back, not batting an eye.

Xaeryn laughed. "Touché."

They drew to a halt by the display pedestal and Red gestured enthusiastically toward the hefty tome laid open atop it. "Look."

She obliged, and it only took a few seconds' focus on the visible pages for her brows to furrow, then arch. "Sun above..." She could see why he was so excited; from what she could read this tome appeared to precede the one she'd given him for his birthday. At the very least it was something of a companion volume. "That's definitely worth getting excited over," she murmured.

Red made a noise of distracted agreement as he stared at the tome. "What do you think the odds are they'd lend that to the Shepherds if we asked?"

"Low," she said, hating his disappointment but unwilling to lie. "At least, not without a good reason." She squeezed his hand, still wrapped around hers. "And 'just curious' unfortunately is not enough in scenarios like this."

"That's what I figured," he sighed around a wry laugh, still staring at the pages. "But think about what might be in there, Ryn."

"I know." Xaeryn studied the display, mind already spinning. "This looks like a new exhibit. Maybe once it's been here a month or two, we can come with a reason to borrow it for a few days and just resign ourselves to not seeing you for those few days."

Red laughed. "Blade wouldn't want us to lie."

"I don't want us to lie," she said, leaning in so their arms pressed together. You're terrible at it, anyway. "That's why I said come with a reason, not make one up." She tugged on his hand. "Come on, there's still lots to see, and we're burning daylight."

Red looked like he wanted to press the previous conversation further, but let it go as he followed her from the room. Their hands stayed joined the rest of the way through the museum.

And the walk home.

"Nice to have a day I don't have to fight Endarkened," Xaeryn commented as they reached Ashtown.

"Careful, we're not back yet, it could still happen," Red teased.

She shot him a flat look for even speaking the possibility into existence. "Any demons show up to ruin my day with you, I will send them screaming back to Hael before you can say 'Solhadur Academy'."

"I believe you," he chuckled, leaning over to brush a kiss against her temple, only briefly hesitating before his lips met her skin. "And I'm flattered."

"You should be," Xaeryn teased, returning the kiss with one on his cheek. "I had a good time today, Red."

Red smiled and squeezed her hand. "Me, too, Xaer."

They walked into the Shepherd compound--back to reality--together. It had been, Xaeryn thought contented, a very good use of a day off.

enough to share

mikasa x gn!reader // modern college au // fluff, classmates to lovers (?) // 1156 words

notes: y/n is the same height as mikasa in the fic, sorry i couldn’t have been able to write it properly if it was undecided D:

warnings: angry 🤬 levi and swearing?? that's it i think

"fuck," you muttered under your breath. wearing this low-cut shirt during late autumn was not a good idea, even though you had layered a thick zip-up hoodie over it.

you had just gotten out of your last class of the day, standing on the steps in front of the school building, waiting for your ride. silently, you cursed eren - he was late. again.

you realised your hands felt like they had frozen over. the numbness almost hurt.

why did i wear this outfit? you thought to yourself. i can barely withstand the cold. idiot.

sighing, you sat down on the ground and wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your shoulders in a futile attempt to warm yourself up.

it had been a tiring day. you barely got any sleep the night before because of the construction they were doing outside your dorm. the only thing you had eaten in twelve hours was a stale sandwich from 7-11. professor ackerman was in an incredibly shitty mood today - even more than usual. and to top it all off, the ungodly weather.

god, i really wish i wore a scarf.

"y/n?"

a vaguely familiar voice jerked you out of your wallows of self pitty, and you turned around to see your classmate, mikasa, staring down at you.

"shit, sorry, was i blocking the way?" your face heated up as you apologised profusely, jumping up to your feet.

ever since the two of you had been paired for a project last term, you've had a little - dare you say - crush on her. but she hadn't spoken a word to you since, and you found striking up conversations was basically impossible. oh well, you would outgrow it anyway. 

all you could do was admire mikasa from across the lecture hall as she listened to the teacher intently, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her pen against her notepad.

just a silly little crush.

mikasa was wearing her usual dark red scarf, the one that she used to keep her face covered from the eyes down. the only time you really saw her whole face was in the summer. and still, she managed to be the most mind-blowingly beautiful girl you've ever seen.

"oh no, don't worry. you just seem to be waiting for someone," mikasa murmured. "it's late. and cold."

"yeah, aha, i'm waiting for my friend to come pick me up," you said, forcing an awkward grin. "what about you?"

mikasa looked down at her watch. "i'm just waiting for professor to finish something up. he's giving me a ride home. then i got bored and came out here, i guess."

"professor ackerman...?"

"he's my cousin."

it felt like someone had hit you in the head with a hammer. no shit, sherlock. how did you never realize they had the same last name? 

mikasa burst into laughter, throwing her head back so her silky black hair threatened to fall out of her messy bun. "don't worry, i didn’t expect you to know anyway."

a wave of relief washed over you, and you allowed yourself a chuckle.

the silence returned, and the both of you stood there for what felt like hours.

suddenly, she sneezed, breaking the silence temporarily.

"excuse me." mikasa's voice sounded thick, as if she had a cold.

you dug around in your bag for a bit until you fished out a smushed packet of tissues and offered it to her. she smiled and reached out for it, thanking you.

mikasa's fingers brushed over yours when she took the tissues from you. just that slight touch made your ears turn red.

"oh wow, your hands are freezing, y/n," mikasa said in surprise. out of nowhere, she wrapped her hands around yours, sending the blood rushing straight to your face.

"m-mikasa?" you stuttered as she started rubbing your hands. hers were impossibly warm and soft.

"ah, sorry." mikasa's hands dropped down to her sides. "i just noticed you were cold and i have a bit of an- instinct, y' know?"

you nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. as much as you had panicked when mikasa did that, you were now regretting it, missing the comforting feeling of her fingers stroking yours.

“no, it’s okay, keep doing it. i really liked it.” the words were tumbling out of your mouth, your heart beating louder and faster every second. where the hell was all of this confidence coming from?

“actually, you’re still cold.” she said softly. “you can borrow my scarf.” mikasa began to loosen the fabric around her neck, but you stopped her hastily.

“i wouldn’t want to trouble you, please,” you babbled. “it’s freezing, and you should-”

the scarf had already come undone, and you could see that mikasa’s cheeks were red as well. probably because of the cold, you tried to tell yourself. but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel like it was coming from a place of... something else.

“there’s enough to share.”

you felt your breath hitch in your throat, and for a second, you stood there, dumbfounded. was she really saying what you thought she was?

before you could say anything, mikasa looped one end of the scarf around your neck, stepping closer to you, narrowing the space in between both your bodies than ever before. you felt like you were on fire.

“mikasa...” you faltered. 

"y/n, do you know how much i’ve yearned for you? wished that you would look at me while we’re in class, wished that you would ask to be in my group for a project, wished that you would finally open your damn mouth and talk to me.”

“mikasa- that’s the thing. i have,” you said, your voice merely a hoarse whisper. “i can’t take my eyes of off you. i just- i’ve been yearning too.”

those stupid mesmerizingly grey eyes of hers widened in shock, her mouth gaping open in a little ‘o’. it was like mikasa was inviting you to lean in and kiss her right on her perfect mouth. 

without thinking, you closed your eyes and shuffled closer to mikasa, your lips ghosting hers, your heart beating out of your chest until-

"y/l/n, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

your eyelids flew open and you glanced quickly to your left to see professor ackerman standing there, briefcase gripped tightly in his one hand and umbrella in the other. 

“fuck- i mean- i’m so sorry, professor,” you spluttered, trying to unloop the scarf around your neck. 

“god, levi, you just had to,” mikasa complained, reaching up to release you from the tangled cloth. “y/n, i’m so sorry, can we talk later?”

“of course, mikasa,” you said, slowly backing away from the scene. “thank you. for... earlier.”

as you walked away, with no particular destination and your head still spinning, you brought a hand up to the nape of your neck. 

it was warm.

doctor’s orders .

(not my gif)

request by @lovely-lady-lumps : Can you do a cute Dean Winchester x reader where they take a shower and she washes his hair for him and it's just a really soft moment between them?

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader Oneshot

the premiere of the newest episode of supernatural this evening got me falling in love with soft Dean all over again, so i felt like now would be the perfect time to write this. hope y’all enjoy!

warnings: cursing, a little smutty i won’t lie

Dean had been moping around the bunker for the last couple of days, sick as a dog. Every day he would feel a tad better, but not back to full health quite yet. You felt bad for him; you were used to seeing the eldest brother witty and full of energy, but this cold was kicking his ass. You teased him, telling him it was because he didn’t eat his vegetables. He’d only roll his eyes and chuckle deeply. The cold gave his voice the ill but deep and sexy tone. It suited him perfectly, but what didn’t?

Ever since the Winchester brothers saved you from becoming vamp dinner about six months ago, you’d grown so attached to them, but in very different ways. Sure, Sam was so intelligent and funny and you couldn’t deny attractive, but Dean gave you a feeling in your chest that nobody had ever made you feel before. His emerald green eyes pierced through you every time you stole a glance at each other, and his lips looked to be softer than silk. You didn’t know that for sure though, neither of you had made a move.

It was getting to be around noon, and Dean was still in bed. Usually, by now you’d at least had heard him use the bathroom or sneeze from your room next to his. You rolled out of bed, sliding on your house shoes, and wrapping the cardigan you wore around your body. The cold, fall temperatures outside weren’t helping Dean feel better either. You walked out of your room, turning to your right to see his bedroom door closed. Your knuckles rapped softly against the old wood. He mumbled for you to come in.

You slowly pushed the door open, seeing that Dean was lying in almost complete darkness, wrapped up in two blankets and wearing a matching long-sleeved pajama set. You could tell he was slipping in and out of consciousness; his eyes looked like they were begging him to shut them and go back to sleep. You sat next to him on the edge of the bed, placing your hand on his chest. He was laying flat on his back. His body heat was burning through the shirt he wore.

“Dean, you’re burning up.” You muttered softly, touching his forehead softly with the back of your hand. His skin was on fire. He groaned.

“I’m so cold though, (Y/N). Snuggle me.” He all but pouted as he said this. You were taken aback; you knew Dean was bold, but never with you. Now it was your face’s turn to heat up. When you didn’t move, he scooted over and made room, then pulled you down to lay next to him. You yelped with surprise, and he chuckled deeply.

His arms wrapped around you, and he exhaled peacefully. You laid your hand on his chest, your other arm hugging your waist. One of his hands rested on top of yours. You snuggled up to him; you couldn’t help it, he was really warm and you were freezing. It didn’t help that he just smelled so damn good too. But not the best, you happened to notice.

“I think you should take a shower.” You whispered. Laughter echoed throughout his chest, followed by a couple of coughs.

“I stink that bad?” You were silent, a smile wavering on your lips. He lightly hit your hand.

“Shut up, bitch.” He remarked.

“Jerk.” You looked up at him; he was looking down at you and smiling. Your gaze lingered on each other, and you thought he was going to kiss you, but he slowly sat up, groaning all the way. You got out of the bed.

“Alright, doctor’s orders. But you need one too.” He smiled up at you, bed head at its finest. You gasped playfully.

“What, me? Never.”

“No, you don’t smell so great yourself, princess. My nose might be clogged up but I could smell your ass a mile away.” You pouted at him, the nickname giving you butterflies. He laughed lightly.

“Might as well take one together and save water.” You joked. His eyebrows rose and his lips parted in surprise. You realized he may not have known you were kidding. “Dean, I was just-“ You tried defending yourself, but he cut you off.

“Sounds good to me. But you have to wash my hair. My arms are killing me.” He threw the blankets off of him, standing up and started unbuttoning his shirts right in front of you. You turned your head instinctively, but his finger lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” His eyes flickered all over your face, voice low and sultry. Of course, you wanted to, you were just nervous. You’d never been with a guy like Dean before; you knew he cared about you and didn’t want to hurt you, that’s what made him special.

“You know I’ll take care of you, right, (Y/N)? Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” His calloused hands held your face. His hot, bare chest was against your sweater.

“I know.” You muttered. He placed a soft, gentle kiss on your lips, and you kissed him back. This was your guys’ first kiss, and it was everything you’d dreamed of. Minus Dean’s cold of course; the thought crossed your mind only for a second that you might get sick too, but you lost any care you might’ve grown to have. He pulled away, smirking at you. You smiled back, how could you not?

He took your hand and led you to the bathroom adjoined to his room, shutting the door behind him. He placed another kiss on your lips, less gentle this time, but you didn’t mind. As silly as it might sound, you felt like you two were making up for lost time; you’d felt like you’d known each other forever, and all the pining made it feel like so much longer. You stepped back from him and slowly pulled your cardigan off and dropping it to the floor. His eyes watched your every move so carefully, eyes growing darker in color and pupils growing wider, like a hungry animal. Again, you didn’t mind. He made you feel like a powerful, sexy, wanted woman; no man had ever made you feel that way.

Your shirt came off your body next, slipping off your arms and onto the floor. You wore no bra underneath your clothes; you were relaxing at home, after all. What kind of person relaxes in a bra? Dean was mesmerized by your chest, but not in a creepy way. He was admiring your new-to-him beauty, eyes flickering all over the freshly exposed skin.

“(Y/N)...you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His voice was low and had that sickly tone. It was saying a lot though; Dean had been with hundreds of women over the years, but they didn’t compare to you. You were a goddess in his eyes; despite all the flaws you saw in your body, he loved it, from head to toe. He closed the distance between the two of you again, wrapping his arms around your now bare waist. Now you could feel just how hot his skin was. His lips met yours again and he trailed hungry kisses down your neck. You stifled a moan, knowing Sam was around here somewhere. You knew Dean was going to leave marks, but you didn’t care.

He stepped back and pulled his pants off, not wearing any underwear for some reason. He was sporting a bit of a hard-on, which gave you, even more, self-confidence. You did the same, kicking off your pants and underwear to the side. You were both stood completely naked in front of each other for the first time, just admiring each other’s bodies. You smirked.

“Ready for your spa day, Mr. Winchester?” You joked. He nodded his head eagerly like a child. You couldn’t help but laugh at this. He was adorable yet so sexy at the same time. How did he do it?

You turned the water on in the shower and waited for it to get to a comfortable and warm temperature. Your back was to Dean, and you could feel his eyes on you, admiring every inch of your skin. You felt a little self-conscious, but you knew he thought you were beautiful just as you were. You stepped in, beckoning Dean with one finger and a smirk on your lips. He smirked back, following you into the shower.

You stepped back and let the water flow over your body, running your hands over your hair so that it all got wet. You opened your eyes to see Dean in front of you, entranced with you. “What?” You laughed nervously. He didn’t say anything; he just encased you in his arms and kissed you roughly. You felt his hard dick on your leg, making you blush profusely. You even let a little moan slip from between your lips. He returned you the favor.

“Don’t worry about him right now, we’re here to shower. He can wait.” Dean said as he pulled away; you imagined he was referring to his penis. You laughed a tad and nodded. You motioned for him to turn around and you squirted some of his shampoo in your hands, massaging it into his scalp. He groaned, leaning into your hands. You giggled.

“Thanks for doing this, (Y/N). I think I’m already feeling a lot better.” He whispered. You smiled.

“Anytime, Winchester.”

Okay a possible prompt that has literally lived in my head rent free- Is a sick and super sad Bucky Barnes alone in his crappy apartment in Romania. ✌🏻

Wow, okay, how about we tone the sad down there a little, friend? Lmao

I’m going to kind of bounce between present (Bucky with Steve) and past (with Bucky apparently sick and super sad and alone in your angst-filled mind, anon)

The apartment around Bucky is run down, a rough portrait of an attempted domesticated life in Romania. A guise, Bucky thinks, whipping a sharp frown at the peeling wallpaper and carpet stains. The couch underneath him has been broken down to hard lumps that do nothing to soften the ache deep within his bones-

“-Buck?”

Bucky blinks slowly; Steve’s baby blues crowd his vision. There’s present worry in Steve’s eyes, and he brushes the backs of his fingers to Bucky’s forehead, cursing softly under his breath.

“That snow really did you in, huh?”

Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but all that he manages is a pained rasp of the word “yes” before he’s doubling over into a coughing fit, fingers digging into the plush couch cushion below him.

“Shit, hang on, Buck. I’ll get some water.”

Bucky reaches out, his fingers just barely brushing the back of Steve’s shirt, and he watches Steve disappear into the kitchen-

-The kitchen’s practically empty, and often times, the water that pours from the faucet is a rustic brown that splatters in the stained sink. Still, Bucky’s throat is fiercely throbbing along each, swollen swallow, so he stumbles to his feet, shaking like a single leaf desperately hanging onto the fleeting remmants of summer, and shuffles into the kitchen with a small, torn blanket pulled tightly over his shoulders.

He turns on the facuet, paying no mind to the creaking rattle of the pipes struggling underneath, bends forward, the blanket falling to the floor, and shoves his lips up to the stuttering stream of brown water-

“-Slow sips, okay? We still aren’t sure what we’re dealing with yet, and I don’t want you throwing all this back up.”

It takes Bucky an alarmingly long time to focus his thoughts on the cool glass of clean, clear water being pushed gently into his hand. He sips at it, his burning throat craving the brief relief the water brings, but before he can chug it, Steve’s taking the glass from him, and it’s not until the glass is gone that Bucky realizes his hand’s shaking, along with his entire body. He’s freezing.

Steve’s worrying his bottom lip as he reaches behind Bucky to snag a thick, warm throw blanket off the back of the couch. He pulls it over Bucky’s shivering frame, and Bucky’s quick to tighten it around himself, his teeth borderline chattering.

Steve’s hand finds his forehead again, and Bucky leans into the cold touch with a shudder.

“Geez, Buck. You feel even warmer. I’m going to find the thermometer.”

Bucky jerks through a nod, and Steve pads quickly out of the living room-

-Bucky’s stomach turns the second the water sinks to his stomach. Still, it brings brief relief to his throat. He brings his head up, swiping the back of his arm across his mouth, shivering violently when a drop of cold water falls from his hair to his neck. He’s quick to snag the blanket up off the floor and wrap it back around himself, briefly focusing on how dizzy the fast movement leaves him.

He sags back against the counter, shaking and coughing, and he takes stock of how truly terrible he feels. He slaps is own palm against his forehead, finding a sticky heat that’s concerning, even for him. He stumbles out of the kitchen and down the small hall to his bathroom, almost ripping open the mirror the dig around for the old, mercury thermometer he found partially hidden under the kitchen sink months before.

He slides down onto the floor and draws his knees up tightly to his chest as he slips the thermometer under his tongue. Counting 180 seconds when his mind is hot with fever is harder than he expects, but when he hits the final number, he snags the thermometer, bringing it close to blurring eyes to see the 102.7 degrees Fahrenheit reading-

“-102.7,” Steve announces, and Bucky whips a frown to see Steve staring down at an ear thermometer, his face etched in concern. He hadn’t heard Steve come back in, nor did he feel the thermometer being pressed into his ear.

“I don’t know about this, Bucky. Maybe I should call Bruce...”

Bucky shakes his head, one hand slipping from his current blanket cocoon to drop against Steve’s arm. “It’s just a cold,” he tries, his voice cracking along each word, and Steve frowns sharply at him.

“This isn’t a cold, Buck. I’m going to call Bruce.”

“Steve,” Bucky tries again, coughing against the word, but Steve’s already got his cell phone pressed to his ear, and then he’s talking quickly, concern evident in his tone-

-Bucky had thought this was just a cold. He had started feeling ill a few days prior, but it wasn’t anything alarming: a small headache, congestion, a few sneezes and coughs here and there. But then he woke up this morning, and he felt as if he’s been hit square on by a freight train. The nagging notion in the back of his mind that he needs a doctor is persistence, but where can he go? Who would be willing to look over the Winter Soldier? Who would be willing to help a weapon?

Shivering, he hugs his knees tighter to his chest. The bathroom floor is cold beneath him, cold and hard, but he can’t muster up enough will to move-

“-Bruce said I’m worrying too much.” Steve sighs, dropping down onto the edge of the coffee table across from Bucky. He drags his fingers roughly through his short hair.

“Maybe he’s right,” Bucky tries, pulling the blanket over his mouth to cough harshly into it. He offers a weak smile, and Steve returns it, tired but still there.

“I’m always going to worry about you, Buck.” Steve leans forward and drops his hand atop Bucky’s thigh, and Bucky focuses on the warmth that spreads across his leg from the touch alone.

“You’ll go gray,” Bucky teases, and Steve rolls his eyes and hops to his feet.

“I think Tony’s going to have that covered for all of us.” Steve smiles, but Bucky can still make out the hints of worry spread across Steve’s face, with his smile a little too tight and never reaching his blue eyes.

“I think we should move you to the bedroom. You’ll probably be warmer and more comfortable.”

Bucky agrees, but the second he’s pulled to his feet, his vision tunnels, graying around the edges, and Steve’s pressing against him, keeping him grounded, as he guides him to the bedroom-

-He’s alone. That’s all he’ll ever be. His memories are shattered fragments of comradery, war, friendship, hurt, love, Steve. He looks up from where he’s had his head resting atop his knees. Steve. He’s the one memory that always finds its way back into Bucky’s mind: his kind smile, his protective nature, his poor jokes, his easy laugh. Steve, he thinks.

It’s not until the tear drips from his chin that Bucky realizes he’s crying, and he’s shaking. His head feels as if it’s being ripped into two, and every inch of his skin hurts. More so, he’s so incredibly tired of being the monster he’s been programmed to be. He’s tired of the gaping hole in his chest that’s filled only with cold loneliness. He’s just tired, and more than anything else right now, all he wants is-

“-Steve!”

Steve jerks around, his shoulder hitting the doorway, and he races back to the bed, dropping down onto the edge of it and carefully brushing a few damp strands of hair from Bucky’s face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t go,” Bucky chokes out, and Steve’s face crumbles, his resolve visibly cracking along with Bucky’s.

“Buck, I’m... I’m not. I’m just going to get medicine.”

Bucky blinks away his old apartment that’s threatening to cloud his vision once more, focusing instead on Steve and Steve only. He struggles to free his hand from the mess of blankets piled atop him and latches strong fingers to Steve’s wrist. “I don’t want to be alone,” he says almost desperately, and for a moment, he can no longer read Steve’s expression, but then Steve’s kicking his shoes off and climbing into the bed, nudging Bucky over, and Bucky obliges quickly, scooting to give Steve space.

“You really need medicine,” Steve mutters, but even as he says it, he tugs Bucky flush to his chest, and Bucky’s fingers curl into Steve’s shirt, right above Steve’s heart, the rhythmic thump tethering him to the present.

“Later,” he mumbles, pressing his face to crook of Steve’s neck. “Just... stay. Please?” He sighs when Steve’s arms tighten around him.

“Of course, Buck. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dedicated to @katsushimaa.

To spend the first day of winter break at each other’s house was practically a tradition for you and Tsukishima.

When the two of you were younger, you would drink so much hot chocolate until one of you (maybe even both of you) threw up. You would bundle up in as many jackets as you could manage and tumble out into the white slush, pelting each other with snowballs and leaving imprints on the snow in the form of angels. You would eat the snowflakes and lick the frozen poles, unable to move as Tsukishima laughed at you. The two of you would stay outside until you couldn’t feel your noses and your fingers looked blue.

Now that the two of you were older, it was much, much different.

If you were lucky, the two of you would drink some hot chocolate. And… that was it. But you still came to his house, and you still reveled in annoying him.

You’re scrolling through your phone, resting your head on Tsukishima’s thigh as he flips through a book he’s probably read about a hundred times by now. Neither of you has said anything for almost forty minutes, yet, you still felt comfortable. So did he.

When you finally stand up to quench your thirst, you notice it, just outside the window.

"Tsukki!" You forget about the water instantaneously, rushing over to him.

He barely spares you a glance, but sighs, “What is it now? I thought my brother bought some hot chocolate the other day-”

“No, no, look!” You grab his wrist and tug on his arm, urging him towards the window. He sighs, letting his headphones rest on his shoulders, and peers in between the blinds.

“It’s just snow. I don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss.” 

“It’s the first snow of the winter! Please, can we go outside?”

“And do what? Just be cold and uncomfortable for a few hours? I’d much rather-”

“Read or listen to music, yeah, yeah, I know. But you always do that stuff!” He scowls. “Can we go outside? Just for an hour- no, less than an hour! Pretty please?”

There’s a pause. You can see the gears turning in his mind.

But he lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his neck. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. But no more than thirty minutes, alright?”

“Yes!” You exclaim. “Come on, come on!” You practically drag him off of the couch. 

However, he finds that he’s not upset about it.

"When's the last time we've done this, Tsukki?" You wonder aloud, fumbling with your shoes.

"Five years ago." He replies dryly.

"Wow, it's been that long?" You sigh. He regards you and that taut expression you have carefully.

"I can't believe I put up with you for so long."

"Me neither."

"You're the one dating me."

"You confessed first." You say with a self-satisfied grin. "I win." You ruffle his hair.

When you turn back to your shoes, you can't see that fond look in his eyes. 

Nor can you see that small smile he now wears.

When you open the door, all you can see is the snow.

It coats the ground like a blanket, hiding the dreary grey cement beneath a layer of pure, spotless white. There are still wandering snowflakes that fall from the sky like weightless rain, swept away by the howling wind.

At first, the only thing you can do is admire the scene in front of you.

Then the cold sets in.

You can feel it in your bones, and you can't control the shivers that rack your entire body. You rub your arms for a desperate attempt at producing some semblance of heat, but it's ultimately futile.

"Here." You can't even turn around when you feel something being placed on your shoulders. "Idiot, did you really not bring a thicker jacket?"

"It wasn't snowing when I came here!"

"It's still winter."

"Whatever! But... thank you for the jacket."

Tsukishima scoffs. "Someone has to make sure you don't die of hypothermia." You notice his red ears and can't help but snicker.

You hurry down the steps and stop only when your shoes are lost in the sea of snow. The snowflakes get caught in your hair, but you hardly notice it.

Tsukishima does.

And, with the sunlight giving your skin such a beautiful glow, he wonders if he's looking at an angel.

You fall into the snow, but you can't feel the cold as much as you did before. Your limbs are splayed out across the slush.

"What are you doing?"

"Making snow angels, silly." You say with a bright grin. "Make some with me too!"

He purses his lips. "Fine." He sits down next to you, watching you move your arms up and down. "You look stupid."

"So do you." Tsukishima can't help but smile.

He settles into the snow and moves his arms and legs the same way you do. He feels like a fool as he does this, and he can't help but look around every few seconds.

"If you look dumb, then so do I." You say effortlessly. "We'll be dumb together."

"The only difference is that you're the only one who's dumb by themselves." He replies in a heartbeat and you snap up into a sitting position.

"You're gonna pay for that, you jerk!" You grab a handful of snow and throw it at his face.

Yet, even as you laugh at him, he still thinks you're an angel.

His angel.

Bonus:

"I can't believe you got sick."

You sneeze. "You should know me by now. Besides, we were out there for, what, two hours?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Hey," You sniffle, "Why didn't you end up going inside? I thought you didn't like the snow."

"That's not true. I said I don't like being cold and uncomfortable - the two are completely different."

Your face sours. "I can't believe I'm still dating you."

"Me neither, angel. Me neither."

Yssa!! I know we haven’t been mutuals for the longest time but I still appreciate you so much nonetheless! you’re so friendly and welcoming, and seeing you on my dash makes me so happy. Thank you for being so kind and considerate to everyone you meet, and thank you for being such an inspiration to me. ilysm 🥺💖

it’s too late to say sorry

update: part two is up and you can read it here 

authors note: IM IN A IMAGINE WRITING SPREE SOMEONE STOP ME PLEASE also i like using different names for the same characters im sorry :/

synopsis: hitoshi shinsou is known to be a top tier player, you only saw his as a jerk that toyed with other people's feelings, he was on his way for changing for the better; but he blew it.

word count: 1.9k words

warnings: !quirkless au! angst!!

!f*ckboy! hitoshi shinsou x reader 

him and his entire demeanour pissed you off, you were not someone that was hateful but man did this man get on your nerves. girls and guys were falling like flies case of his 'irresistible' aura, the thought made you scoff. he was just another one of those players that care for thing other than themselves and you were sick of this whole pedestal that people put them on, and him oh how you wanted to knock them down  and make them taste the reality of their destruction.

you and your best friends kendo and monoma were discussing what material you missed when you were sick on the way to the cafeteria, kendo perked up as if she remembered important information "oh also about the seating plan in chem.." you groaned and tilted your head back in annoyance, "don't tell me i'm sitting to this trust fund kid," you sarcastically pointed your thumb at the boy to your right, "shut it my dear peasant, you are a charity case to me so be grateful-" and as he was finishing up his sentence he got smack to the back of his head. "kendo that hur-" "be grateful that we haven't left you sorry butt yet." she let out a huff and continued what she was about to say as the three of you got to the cafeteria she took a shaky breath, "you kinda next to shinsou.."

you choked on air, "no no no no, i don't want o be next to a barney headed jerk-" before your rant even started you were cut off by the person behind you. "so you wanna continue talking about me behind my back or do you wanna say it to my face sweetheart, take your pick," you knew that voice, all too well. "first of all save your disgusting nicknames for a person that actually likes you." you turned your heel to give him the dirtiest glare you could fathom to show hitoshi shinsou.

"aww don't be like that baby.. i already know you'll turn around~" his smirk did not fall for a second, it only grew by the minute. "look i'm not looking to have anything on my criminal record, so if you want to keep your limbs in one piece i suggest you take my advice and piss off with my parting gift." you brought your fist to your mouth and shoved your middle finger in our mouth, and you proceeded to pull it out and flip him off and caught up with kendo and monoma who were laughing. 'they really are something else hm?' shinsou thought.

"man does he really put you in a bad mood hm?" neito teased and handed you the sandwich you wanted, "yeah she really did flip him off this time and threaten him?! i think that is the nicest exchange they've had all year!" kendo wheezed out, as you payed for your food you looked back to see shinsou sitting with his friends.

"so let's get this straight, you single handed moly pissed someone off so often they called you barney head, say they might break your limbs AND flip you off?!" kaminari screeched, while todoroki was purely confused, "did shinsou lose his ability to flirt his way out of this situation or something? cause honestly i feel like you lost you mojo a little bit." sero snorted at todoroki, "did you really have to say 'mojo'?" shinsou was just trying to figure out how to woo you now, his ultimate revenge as to get you to like him and break your heart and pummel it to smithereens.

now you had your chemistry class, and you were lab partners with shinsou, the given thought of being within a 2 metre radius of him mad you dread the class. the moment you walked in the class you saw a girl on his lap, her uniform was two sizes too tight, playing with his hair and her skirt rode up to show her red undergarments. "daddy~ can't we just skip?" you gagged at that nickname, the two of them stopped what they were doing and looked at you. the girl looked you up and down and she was obviously annoyed at your presence. "oh don't mind me i'm just a poor witness to see your panties on full display," you shrugged and made your way to your seat, "at least i have someone interested me," the girl smugly said, you rolled your eyes, "at least my coochie isn't free real estate."

the girl let out a 'hmph' and stormed out out the class, "free real estate? that's a new one." you didn't bother looking at him, and you opened your notebook and brought your data booklet out not even sparing him a glance. meanwhile the guy in front of you asked for a pen and you immediately complied and gave him one. hitoshi has never felt more offended from getting ignored and blown off again.

later in the class the teacher gave a worksheet to work on and you got stuck on a certain question and you didn't know what to do, "you forgot to balance the reaction so that's why you got the wrong answer." you looked to see shinsou looking at you, elbow on his table, "for someone who doesn't bother with class you remember a few things." you proceeded to add numbers to the elements that were written. for the rest of the class he continued to help you with your worksheet and the two of you got along for once. 'huh he may not be as bad as i thought he was.'

for the rest of the month he acted like this and it showed you that he wasn't the monster you thought he was, he was kind, considerate, funny and sweet. he avoided other girls too, "to think that you changed shinsou is actually kind of crazy, you're way more tolerable this way," you whispered as the two of you sat together and worked on some chemistry notes together, on his end of the story he was freaking out, he never felt this way, h heart was pounding out of his chest. he wanted it to stop, he was afraid. afraid of you not liking him back, he was afraid of commitment, he was afraid that he wasn't good enough for you.

"listen kaminari it is a reasonable plan, get them to like me, have them fall in love with me and boom i break up with her." for the past hour kaminari has been listening to shinsou on the phone go on and on about how he wanted to mess around with you, "they're an interesting person, they've got guts." the blond giggled, "i mean if you wanna quit the plan and hand them over to me-" "don't think about it rat."

meanwhile he was thinking about how he was so calm around you, he felt the need to drop his act and be himself around you. "looks like someone is getting attached~"

really? did he get attached? no what would be too cliché for his own good. so he sought his time to be taken by girls, other girls where were desperate to be in his attention span, "hey kaminari give me the number of every one of your flings i need to let off some steam.." shinsou needed to get you off his mind.

on the other hand you were talking to kendo, "okay look i know that i said he was trash and whatever but  he changed and.. i think i might like him." you were gushing over all the sweet things he did, all the sweet things he said, you saw all the signs that he returned your feelings. "i say go for it! shoot your shot when you can, just be careful and know that me and neito are here for you and will beat him up if he dares hurt you." kendo was really on edge with him, it was as if shinsou got possessed and she knew something wasn't right, but if he made you happy she couldn't stop you. "thank you kendo~"

it was as if a switch was flipped, the Hitoshi shinsou that you hated was back and had more playthings than ever, make out sessions in the halls, skipping classes to fool around with anyone and what hurt the most was that he was avoiding you like the plague. “he is going through a phase right now, i promise he is better than this you saw how he was weeks ago please guys you have to believe me.” you were crying in monomas room about your ruined week. you knew what was the truth and that was that you were played, you were a fool to think that he was changing for the better. “i knew he was a jerk, y/n you deserve better than this, you deserve someone that will really appreciate you, someone that won’t have to change and will be who they really are in front of you..” you looked up from lap and stared at monoma and kendo. ‘these are my people, they will never betray me.’ “i love you guys,” you declared as you threw your arms around their necks and cried your heart out. ‘hitoshi shinsou you will pay for doing me dirty like this.’

kendo forced you to stay home and rest, you were stressed and not in the head space to be at school right now. it was now lunch and kendo was livid, and was stomping down the corridor to give a piece of your mind to the jerk that broke your heart. “shinsou, i got a bone to pick with you.” she yelled at the purple haired boy, ‘finally i can see how y/n is doing’ he completely misread her words and saw them as an invitation to act buddy buddy with her so he jogged over. however he was not expecting a fist to the face, “you undeniable monster! do you know what you did to her?! you gave her false hope and you have the audacity to think that you can get anything about how she is right now?” her words truly leaked poison and showed she was not playing around, he had hurt you, and he needed to repent. “you think your pathetic superiority complex is something to sneeze at and turn a blind eye to? you think that just because you can play with peoples emotions you’re better than everyone else? well here’s what i think.” groups of people were surrounding everyone and were listening to kendo’s rant, shinsou’s heart dropped, he knew what this meant, he had hurt you. with each sentence the gap between the two got smaller until she got into his face and continued.

“it is disgusting how you can switch your act to lower other people’s guard and once they do so they are underneath your discrepancy and you crush them with no mercy,” flashes of you trying to talk to the guy you liked were flashing into keno’s head, she watched as he broke you down until you were pieces and now she was there for you as you were hopelessly trying to pick them up. a breath broke her flow of thoughts and brought her a second of peace. “stay away from my best friend.” and thats when the world stopped for shinsou, he did all of this to protect himself, he was scared cause there was a chance you could’ve liked him back but he ignored that and hurt you instead. “i’m sorry..” was all that he could say at this point. he couldn’t express anything right now, he was malfunctioning. “it’s too late to say sorry.”

Doki Doki Literature Club Secret Santa gift for the @ddlcgiftexchange for @maxcaulfield! Can also be read on my ao3. /// - - - ///

Monika missed Sayori. It’s not like she’s clingy or anything, and it’s not like Sayori is dead - god forbid. But she hasn’t shown up to school at all today, and being surrounded by people whose names and personalities belong to a wind Monika has no right to drift along with makes Sayori’s absence seem much more prominent. She wonders if her girlfriend - wow, that’s still so weird to say - is sick. It’s the middle of Winter and there’s been snow every day for the past few weeks. She’s surprised that she herself hasn’t gotten even a hint of a cold yet, considering how prone she is to seasonal changes. Best to not look a gift horse in the mouth, she thinks. She makes a plan to visit Sayori after school today. If she is sick then it can’t hurt to visit and keep her company while she recovers. Maybe she’ll have enough time to stop by the small cafe that’s a few blocks down the main road and pick up a small drink to bring over to Sayori’s place for her. A salted vanilla cream iced coffee topped with whipped cream and sprinkles, if they have any. Sayori’s favorite. It’s not her business to question her love’s taste in drinks, although she can’t help herself and questions it anyway. As long as she’s happy then that’s what matters in the end. Two fingers snap in front of her face and she looks up to see a slightly disgruntled Natsuki in front of her face and a curiously worried Yuri in behind her. “Earth to Monika,” Natsuki says as she leans back. “Yuri called your name like seven times.” “Actually it was five,” Yuri corrects. “If it wasn’t for the intense stare you were giving your desk I would’ve thought that I was being purposefully ignored, if I had to be honest. Are you feeling alright?” Monika feels a bit flustered at being caught in her thoughts. She didn’t realize how unaware she became of her surroundings. “Yes! Yes, sorry, I’m fine. I was just thinking -” about Sayori. “I was just thinking.” A beat passes, and the looks on both of the other girls’ faces tell her all she needs to know about how obvious her thoughts were to them. “Thinking... about Sayori?” Natsuki finishes for her, her question coming out more as a statement. Of course it’s obvious. She’s always thinking about Sayori. “Am I that predictable?” Natsuki bluntly replies “yeah” at the same time Yuri apologetically says “kind of.” Yuri puts a thread of her hair behind her ear and steps closer to sit in the desk next to Monika’s. “It’s just that... since you two have started dating two months ago you’ve been really... close?” she offers. Natsuki nods. “You guys have been filthily in love.” “Natsuki!” “What? I meant it in a good way.” Yuri sighed. “Of course.” She shifts her attention back to Monika. “Despite Natsuki’s unique description, she’s correct. You and Sayori had been almost inseparable since you’ve gotten together.” “Not like it’s a bad thing,” Natsuki assures. “As much as I complain about you two making constant kissy-eyes at each other, I gotta admit that it’s pretty sweet.” Yuri nods in agreement, and while Monika’s stomach gets riled up with thousands of embarrassment butterflies, her friends’ encouraging words fill her with giddiness. She reaches up and playfully pokes Natsuki’s right cheek, right where her single dimple lay. She’s both surprised and not at all shocked at the softness of it. “Funny how you two call us cute when you guys are downright adorable.” Both Yuri and Natsuki blush, the latter jerking her head back from her finger. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles. She points her own finger back at Monika. “Don’t try to change the subject! Sayori isn’t here and now you’re feeling all gloomy and stuff.” “Is she feeling unwell?” Yuri asks. “It’s quite unusual for her to miss a school day, but then again it’s also very cold and muggy outside now, and the weather has been getting worse these past few days.” “She might be feeling sick,” Natsuki says. “If she is sick then tell her to stay home and get better. I don’t want to get sick too.” “I’ll be sure to inform her of your concern, ‘Suki,” Monika promises. “I’m going to see her after school today to make sure she’s fine anyway.” “Good plan, but my warning extends to you too. Don’t come to school if you get sick.” “I won’t, I won’t.” “Make sure Sayori stays hydrated and washes her hands often,” Yuri also speaks up. Monika feels like she’s being talked to by two parents. “And make sure she’s eating properly, maybe something light and not too heavy, and -” Yuri pauses, trailing off for a second. “... Are we sharing poems today?” Monika thinks, resting her face in the palm of her hand. “Hmm... I think Sayori would want to read our poems with us. We could read it today and show her when she comes back, but I think she’d want to be here with us when we read it for the first time, so I’d hold off on it for now. If that’s alright with you two, of course.” Natsuki shrugs. “Fine by me. Honestly, it’ll give me time to look it over and see if I wanna change anything about it.” “Yes,” Yuri agrees. “I worked hard on my poem. I would prefer if all of us had the chance to read it together.” The school bell rang overhead, signaling the end of the school day. Monika got up, stretching her arms above her head. “Then we are in agreement. We’ll wait to share our poems until Sayori can join us. I’ll see you two tomorrow!” She slings her book bag over her shoulder and begins walking toward the classroom door. As she pushes the door open Natsuki’s voice rings through the classroom. “Can’t wait to read the love poem you wrote about Sayori, Moni!” Monika leaves, blushing hard, wandering what she did to deserve friends like this. So what if her poem may or may not have been about Sayori? She didn’t use her name. It could’ve been about anything. It could have been about a deer, or a pond, or the sun. Ah, well. As long as Sayori likes it then it doesn’t matter. /// - - - /// Monika walks down Sayori’s street, the cafe she wanted to stop by having been closed earlier due to bad weather. She bundles her scarf tighter as the snow crunches beneath her feet with puffs of frozen air escaping from her nose. Her face felt numb and cold by the time she moved her scarf to cover half of it, but she’s glad she thought ahead enough to take her mittens with her. Her ears already feel like they’re about to fall off, she doesn’t need her fingers to feel the same way. She walks faster when she spots the clear distinction of Sayori’s house in her vision. She opens the gate and walks through it, careful as she goes up the porch stairs to the front door. She knocks once, twice for good measure, and waits. ... There’s no answer. She knocks a third time, waiting a bit longer, but the result is the same. No answer. She looks to her right at the small potted, and now dead, succulent on the railing next to the door. She lifts it up to find the spare key to the house underneath it and picks it up to unlock the door. “Sayori!” Monika yells out in the house to make her presence known and not scare her. She slips her shoes off on the shoe rack next to the door, and shrugs off her Winter attire - putting her mittens in her coat and putting both her coat and scarf on the coat rack. “It’s Monika! Are you awake?” She hears a thud from somewhere upstairs with Sayori herself appearing at the the top of the stairs a moment later. She’s still in her pajamas and it doesn’t look like she brushed her hair yet today, but the smile she gives when she lays her eyes on Monika completely outshines any of her disheveled appearance. “Moni!” Sayori shouts, her voice crackling a bit. Monika guesses it’s because she either just woke up or because she hasn’t used it in a while. She rushes down the stairs to give Monika a hug, which was gladly reciprocated. “I didn’t know you were coming over today! I would have... cleaned up a little... heh.” The house is spotless. “Did I wake you up?” she asks, patting her back. “Nah, I’ve been awake since this morning. I was just laying in bed all day...” Sayori trails off, her embarrassment opening a deep form of understanding between the two of them that they both know too well. Today must have been one of her low days then. They don’t talk about her depression too often, and while some days are still off for the both of them, their recoveries - especially Sayori’s - have made remarkable progress. Monika leans back to look at her, having to look slightly down, and wraps her arms around her neck. “I just wanted to check up on you since you weren’t at school today.” “Thank you.” Sayori rests her palms on the small of Monika’s back. Her large green eyes started making her slightly flustered so she focuses her sight on a beauty mark close to one of the eyes, high up on her cheek. “I wanted to,” Monika repeats. She gently pushes back one of Sayori’s arms so she can hold her hand. “Besides, if I didn’t come here then Natsuki and Yuri would have forced me to. They think you have a cold or something.” Sayori looks down at their intertwined fingers fondly. “Nope! I’m perfectly healthy, except for the occasional sneeze. But other than that I’m okay.” She squeezes Monika’s hand and notices how her nose is still slightly red from the chill outside. “It’s chilly outside, isn’t it? Do you want some cocoa?” “Sure.” Monika’s relieved that Sayori isn’t actually ill - though the idea of taking care of her sick girlfriend isn’t awful. She knows a good mushroom soup recipe. Maybe she can be her taste tester one day. Sayori leads her through the house to kitchen located in the far back of it. Although the outside of the house is cloudy and gray, the kitchen window is shining enough light to considerably brighten the room. Sayori takes out a small, decently sized pot along with cocoa powder, sugar, chocolate chips, vanilla extract, and a bag of peppermint candies out of a neighboring cabinet while Monika grabs the milk out of the fridge. “Going all out, huh?” Monika teases. She knows that the vanilla flavoring is for Sayori while the peppermint candies are for her. She’s touched knowing that she keeps a bag of her favorite candy at home - especially since she herself doesn’t particularly enjoy the taste of it. Sayori smiles at her after pouring some milk in the pot. “It’s Winter! We gotta celebrate it with the most Winter-y drink known to mankind. Plus going “all out” means it’s just gonna be more delicious to drink.” Monika slides up behind her and wraps her arms around her stomach as she whisks in the cocoa powder and sugar, playfully moving both of them side to side slightly as she does so. “You’re right. Hot chocolate shouldn’t be served any other way.” Sayori moves with her, happily whisking away. She thinks that she should put a radio in here sometime so that they could dance together to some music. “Could you reach over and put some chocolate chips in here for me?” She does just that, moving over to open the bag and pouring some of the contents of it into the warm pot. After seeing them start to melt, she goes to grab the whipped cream out of the fridge. “Okay! It’s done!” Sayori announces. She helpfully pours the chocolate into two cups for them, adding the vanilla extract to her own while Monika takes a spoon and scoops some whipped topping onto both cups, putting the spoon in the sink and the cream back in the fridge afterwards. “Thanks,” Sayori says gratefully. She takes a couple of peppermint candies out of the bag and puts them on the table. “Now for the fun part!” “The best part,” Monika agrees. Both of the girls raise their hands up and immediately slam them down on the candies, crushing them into pieces. Monika picks up the remains and sprinkles them on her cup, completing her drink. With everything finished and the kitchen clean of their messes, they both start heading up towards Sayori’s room, carefully holding their drinks as to not spill it on the carpeted stairs. “I can’t wait to drink this,” Sayori says, pushing open her bedroom door with her hips. “It smells delicious.” “Be careful, though. Remember when we burnt our tongues on it last time?” “You mean when we dared each other to drink it without blowing on it or waiting for it to cool down?” “Yeah. I couldn’t taste anything for about three days.” “Do you wanna do that again?” “No.” Sayori laughs. They both move towards one side of the bedroom where two gigantic green and purple beanbag chairs rest against a wall and sit down them. The bags have seen some use, but they’re still nice and comfortable to sit on. They both spend a quiet moment sipping their drinks, Monika playfully knocking her feet against Sayori’s in a lazy game of footsie. Sayori smiles at her and pushes her own foot back softly. “Why didn’t you come to school today?” Monika asks as politely as she could. It’s not the best conversation starter, but she’s been curious and worried the entire day. Based on what Sayori said earlier she can easily guess, but she doesn’t want to make assumptions. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Sayori’s smile dimmed, though more out of embarrassment than displeasure. Monika feels a bit bad for asking, but she rests a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving her a soft and reassuring smile in return. Sayori leans into her touch, taking another sip of her drink before speaking. “I just had a bad day today.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” She remembers never being able to talk about her feelings this easily. Her bad days and her sad days - she couldn’t talk about them without feeling guilty, like she did something wrong by not being constantly cheerful or happy. She remembers the first time she tried to open up to Monika about her feelings, way back when they were “just friends” unknowingly longing to be closer, and she could barely speak past the rock in her throat and the tears stinging her eyes. Monika had been patient though, and kind, and Sayori had slowly grown confident and comfortable enough to talk with her about her depression and anxiety without feeling judged or lonely. Sayori runs her finger around the rim of her cup idly. It’s almost empty. “I woke up this morning and my limbs felt like there were anvils laying on them. My bones felt heavy and I couldn’t get up.” “Did you go back to sleep?” She nods. “Yup! When I woke up I felt a lot better.” Monika grins. “Sounds like your medication is working.” “Yeah! It’s giving me a lot more energy. A year ago I probably would’ve just stayed in bed.” Monika tilts her cup and pours the rest of her drink in her mouth, finishing it. “Progress is progress, and I’m really proud of you for sticking to it. It makes me happy to see you getting better more and more each day.” “Really?” Sayori asks softly. Her own drink is empty by now and sits on her floor abandoned. “Really.” Sayori feels bashful, the corners of her mouth turning upward with incredible shyness. She scoots over in her beanbag chair to lean against Monika’s beanbag instead so she should lay her head on her lap. Monika herself wraps her arms around Sayori comfortably, one arm laying lazily on her stomach while the other one rests around the broad of her back, effectively cuddling her. This is a nice time for a nap, Sayori thinks as the minutes tick by, blinking her eyes slowly. The steady breathing of her girlfriend soothes her to tiredness, a beat constant and safe and real. A faint and noticeable tune matching the steady rhythm of her own small breathing. She almost thinks she can hear Monika’s heartbeat even though her head is on her thighs and nowhere near her chest. “Are you comfortable?” Monika teases. Her voice is a bit softer, perhaps because she’s also being slightly lulled into sleep. “I can’t replace your bed, you know, but I don’t mind being your pillow.” Sayori hums. “Sorry, I was just enjoying how warm you are and how our breathing almost seems in sync.” Monika huffs a laugh. “Almost sounds poetic.” “I got a lot of practice. Speaking of which, how was the clubs’ poems today?” “Actually we decided not to read our poems today. Everyone wanted to wait for you to come back before sharing them.” Sayori stares at her, surprised. “What? Really?” Monika pokes her cheek playfully. “Of course. Sharing our poems wouldn’t be the same without you there. You make them feel special.” Sayori feels flattered, a warm swarm of butterflies pooling in her stomach hearing that praise. “I can understand that. I couldn’t imagine not sharing my poems with one of you guys.” “Good thing we’re saving them for tomorrow then, hm?” Sayori still looks at her, taking in her slightly heart-shaped face and freckles scattered across her face like a constellation. Monika closes her eyes again, once more falling asleep. The walk all the way to Sayori’s house from the school made her a lot more tired than she realized. Seeing Monika like this, so peaceful and soft, fills Sayori with such fondness that she makes the quick and brash decision to lean up and place a swift kiss on her lips before she fully fell asleep. Unsurprisingly, she tastes like peppermint and chocolate. How fitting for someone like her. Monika cracks one eye open at her and smiles. “Now that’s not really fair, is it? Kissing me when I’m not even looking at you.” She leans down to place her own sweet kiss on Sayori. Kissing can’t magically fix everything, but it’s a start.

in sickness or in health

Notes: Post-Mr. Shimura & Kotarou, pre-relationship Nanahiko; beginnings of a sickfic (spoiler alert, it’s pneumonia). I just wanted to write about a kotatsu table.  Word count: 1,590

//

It’s not that Torino Sorahiko has a delicate constitution, but Nana is very close to begging Chiyo to write a doctor’s note so Sorahiko is obliged to stay at home when the weather turns cold.

First he starts to sneeze, and then his voice begins to rasp, and suddenly Gran Torino is showing up to work while coughing his lungs out. Nana usually has to wait him out; the instant he falters mid-air, Nana smoothly swoops in and excuses him for the rest of patrol. For the rest of the week, if possible.

Sorahiko can pretend all he wants. But one disruption to his airflow is all it takes to send him flailing.

The fateful, annual misstep thankfully occurs before they resume patrol. They are taking a noontime break on their rooftop, surveying the street below, having fallen into the comfortable silence that fills the gap between conversations. Sorahiko clears his throat to indicate they need to move on. He does not stop clearing his throat; he’s doubled over, locked in a coughing spasm that nearly topples him over the edge of the roof.

Nana catches him by the waist, steadying him.

“I’m fine,” he chokes out.

“If I kicked you off this roof, you’d go splat on the asphalt,” Nana tells him sincerely. Sorahiko can’t even meet her eyes, and his face is red with exertion and embarrassment and what has to be the beginning of a fever. His frame shudders with another great cough.

“We can’t just stop patrol.”

“Sick days exist for a reason, and so do vacations! Time to use ‘em!”

“Ugh,” Sorahiko says, but he complies with her insistence that they return to the agency. Nana drops him onto the cot in the backroom, and cheerfully points at the civilian clothes sitting at the end of the mattress. Patrol can wait until Toshinori is done with school; even though Toshinori cannot fly, he’s remarkably agile about scaling rooftops.

“So you go home,” Nana says, internally planning out the rest of her day, “and get some rest until we know for sure that you don’t infect our civilian employees.”

It’s already a given that One for All will keep her and Toshinori spry and healthy; Nana’s immune system hasn’t encountered a virus or infection that it couldn’t burn out since she swallowed Rokudo’s hairs. Bonus, One for All keeps her toasty warm during the winters—she gleefully cut out winter gear from her expenses years ago.

Sorahiko looks up at her. He’s already peeled off the domino mask, and even with the dim ceiling light, Nana discerns the glaze in his pale brown eyes.

“Can’t go home,” he confesses.

“Huh?”

“My complex, it’s getting… fumigated,” Sorahiko informs her. He sounds smug. Like he’s won the argument Nana hadn’t realized they were having. “I told you about the termite problem.”

“No,” Nana says slowly, “you said your place had a cockroach problem. Termites, when did—no. When did the fumigation start?”

“Three days ago.”

“Where have you been sleeping?” Nana demands in a higher-pitched voice. Sorahiko eyes her shiftily, and he scrunches up his civilian wear in his hands. Looking at it closely, Nana realizes that the clothes are pajamas: flannel pants and a thick cable-knit sweater the color of a pale sun. “If I look under this cot, am I going to find a suitcase, Sorahiko?”

“Not under the cot,” he hedges. So, probably squirreled away in his desk’s drawers.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you at least keeping the heating on overnight?”

Sorahiko looks at a point over her shoulder and blatantly lies, “Would I suffer the cold?”

She glares at him because Sorahiko would be the type to deny himself the right to a warm office and minimize their heating bill. They don’t even keep a pillow and blanket for the cot! It’s literally a mattress on a tiny metal bedframe, bought for the office with the express purpose of napping, not actual sleep.

He shrinks where he sits. A sad sniffle punctuates the scene.

“Sick day for everyone,” Nana says promptly, and leaves Sorahiko alone in the backroom to tell their civilian staffers the good news. They are unhappy to find out that Gran Torino has been slowly but steadily contaminating the office with his seasonal germs. Thankfully, their concern for his housing situation outweighs their outrage over Sorahiko continuing to work while sick.

These are their most senior staffers; they know the pattern of a sick Sorahiko too.

She waves goodbye and doubles back to her and Sorahiko’s enclosed office to collect his cache of spare clothes (toothbrush and travel-sized hygiene products included). Once all that is in a tote bag, Nana returns to find Sorahiko still sitting unchanged on the cot, staring blankly at his pajamas. Nana squashes the burgeoning panic. The tote bag is dropped at one end of the cot, and she touches his shoulder.

Sorahiko startles, snaps to attention. Inelegantly, he says, “Wha’s happ’nin’?”

“You’re coming home with me,” she tells him. His eyebrows draw together.

“Says who?”

“Says your best friend.” Nana takes the pajamas and stashes them away into the tote; she picks up his domino mask and smooths it over his face, careful around the eyes, firm about the stray air pockets that tend to gather over his cheekbones. “C’mon, Sorahiko. I’ve got a kotatsu with your name on it.”

“You still own one?”

“Not everyone decided to prioritize a Western bed,” she says dryly, and helps Sorahiko stand upright. He breaks into a series of coughs again. She holds him through it and hopes that this year is just particularly bad for Sorahiko. When Nana had sent him home before, had he curled under his blankets and hacked his lungs out, every breath coming out as a rasp? Surely not.

“You still have one of those,” he remembers. Of course that’s what he remembers.

They stagger outside, Nana propping Sorahiko up with his arm around her shoulders. She locks the front doors and squints at the direction back to her apartment.

“Don’t wanna walk,” he mumbles into Nana’s hair.

“We’ll fly,” she assures him. And they do. Sorahiko’s pride matters less than his comfort, when his stubborn streak peters out. Nana scoops Sorahiko up in a bridal carry, hangs the tote bag on her elbow, taps off the ground and soars to the rooftops. The flight back to her apartment is swift, even with Sorahiko shuddering with stifled coughs.

Entering through the lobby, and then ascending the stairs with judicious use of Float, they finally make it home. Already, the heated building prickles at Nana’s skin. It wakes Sorahiko up too, if the faint stirring of his head is any indication.

“Home?”

“Home,” Nana agrees, keying them inside. She sets her partner onto his feet and sits him on a stool in her genkan. By the power of muscle memory, Sorahiko automatically starts tugging off his boots and various accessories. Nana’s quicker; she helps with the gloves, then ushers him to the bathroom. “Don’t fall asleep yet.”

“Hngh,” he manages. When the door shuts behind him and her shower starts, Nana reheats her kotatsu table, fiddling with the electric heater settings until there is a veritable warmth seeping through the carpeted padding.

Sorahiko needs rest, nutrition, and medication. Possibly Chiyo. Nana weighs the potential humiliation of telling Chiyo she was oblivious to Sorahiko sleeping in the office, chilled to the bone with not even an emergency foil blanket available—versus the danger of not telling Recovery Girl at all.

She stalls for time by making tea and checking her supplies. Painkillers, present. Canned soup? Worryingly absent, along with cough syrup. Nana may have to use her instant ramen powder packets for a broth.

“Nana,” she hears Sorahiko croak. “Just buy take-out.”

“And pass on my cooking?” Nana reflexively says before she jerks her head from her pantry. Sorahiko looks bedraggled. Dressed cozily, yes, but his towel-ruffled hair sticks up in jagged tufts, and the haggard shadows lining his face signals exhaustion more than stress.

“No need for two incapacitated pro-heroes.”

Nana rolls her eyes and gestures to the living room. “Kotatsu, go.”

He shuffles at first, then makes a delighted sound as his naked feet hit warmed territory. Sorahiko lowers himself to his knees, and then visibly decides, fuck it, and slides his entire body, neck down, under the heavy patterned futon.

“Oh,” Sorahiko sighs. His eyes flutter shut; Nana quietly picks her way over and sits by his head.

“I think I’m going to call Chiyo-chan,” she informs him.

“Unnecessary.”

“I’m calling Toshinori too.”

One eye cracks open. “Very unnecessary.”

“He’ll want to know why the agency is out for the day,” Nana explains, giving into the impulse to stroke her fingers through his fluffy silver hair. She cards the tufts into a smoother angle—less bedhead, more rakish. Sorahiko’s contented rumble stutters with a cough. “And he has easier access to Chiyo-chan.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Uh-huh.” His pout is ridiculous and endearing, and Nana’s heart hurts. She tries to smile anyway. Sorahiko ignores her valiant attempt to lighten the mood; the downturned corners of his mouth deepen into a real frown. How is he always tuned into her actual feelings? Ridiculous.

“... I’m a little sick,” he concedes grouchily. “Don’t let the kid be noisy if he invites himself over.”

“Okay,” Nana says, soft. She lets herself cradle his jaw for one long moment, feels the shifted weight of Sorahiko leaning into the touch, before withdrawing. She has a phone-call to make.

The London Bridge Came Falling Down

Plot/Prompt: Collapsed Building

TW: panic attacks

Reblogs are appreciated

You can also read it here on AO3!

         _____________________________________________________

“...-ter…Peter!...Peter!”

Too loud. Everything was too loud and too painful. A groan slipped out of his lips as he scrunched his face up, eyebrows furrowing as he slowly tensed up. He heard shuffling around him and hesitantly opened his eyes, grimacing. It was dark. Really, really dark. Aside from a glow of blue that he couldn’t quite register the source of. All he knew was that it was dark, he hurt all over, and it was quiet. Well, aside from a low groaning and the sound of clattering every now and then.

“You with me kid?” 

Peter jolted when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, his gaze snapping up to stare directly at where the source of blue was coming from. An audible, shaky sigh of relief left him as he found himself staring at Tony’s face that wore a worried expression. “Yeah… I’m with you, mister Stark… wherever here is.” He blinked slowly, craning his neck over his shoulder to look around. He could catch faint, jagged outlines of something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what they were.

The air around him smelt… rusty? It was almost hard to breathe. Every time he inhaled, his chest rattled as if it were filled with gravel. His nose stung with the constant urge to sneeze, and he found himself grimacing and blinking tears out of the corners of his eyes when it didn’t happen. The first assumption that came to mind was that they were in a cave. But it wouldn’t make sense as to why he would wake up in a cave? The last thing Peter remembered was fighting some rock throwing guy near a building… and then nothing.

Nothing other than a deafening tidal wave of noise and panic, anyways.

Blinking himself out of his thoughts, Peter looked back at Tony who was rather aggressively smacking his helmet - that he was still wearing - with a disgruntled expression. “Uh… mister Stark? What’re you doing?” Peter tilted his head, clearing his throat and blinking his eyes a few more times. He had a sneaking suspicion that something must’ve gone wrong and that they weren’t where they were supposed to be, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Yeah, kid. I’m fine… just tryin’ to get a signal through this stupid rubble.” His voice sharpened when he said the word “rubble.” He spat it out in a way that made it seem like the word was poison, whacking something nearby that was hard and solid. But that wasn’t what Peter was focused on. Not the way Tony said the word. The word Tony said. Shaking ever so slightly, Peter cleared his throat. “I-I’m sorry… rubble?” He echoed.

“Yes, rubble. You and I are stuck under 110 stories of a building… not to worry, though. As soon as I get my coms reconnected, capsicle and his merry gang will have us out in no time.”

110 stories. They were stuck under a collapsed building that was 110 stories high. A pit formed in his stomach and Peter shrunk back, pressing himself to the concrete beneath him. That explained the throbbing in his body. That explained the air condition. That explained how dark it was. That explained the undeniable panic that was surging over him again, crashing down like a tidal wave. He was trapped under a building again. Trapped with no immediate way out. He couldn’t see the light of the world like last time. He couldn’t hear anything above the rubble.

stuckstuckstuckstuckstuck.

His mouth felt dry. Nausea swamped him and his mind grew fuzzy. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do this. “No, no, no… gotta get outta here.” He whispered frantically, to which Tony snorted. “Yeah. Not exactly how I plan to spend my Saturday.” He joked, apparently not catching onto the panic Peter was in. That or he was trying to calm the boy down; and if that was the case, it wasn’t working.

“Okay ready?”

Every shift sent a jolt of icy terror through him. Every single clatter of a pebble or smaller piece of concrete made him recoil and press himself further down against whatever was beneath him. His hands flew towards his mask, scrabbling at it desperately for a moment before tearing it off. No one would see his face, anyways. He didn’t have to worry about his identity. 

“Hello?!...Hello!”

He curled in on himself, biting his bottom lip so harshly that he tasted blood. He tried desperately to avoid contact with any other pieces of rubble aside from whatever was beneath him, but found himself unable to. It was inevitable. No matter how he positioned himself, a piece of concrete jabbed at his leg or side painfully. 

“Please...hey! Hey please! I’m down here! I’m down here- I’m stuck! I’m stuck- I can’t move- I ca-”

He couldn’t breathe. No matter how big of a breath of air he tried to inhale, his lungs felt deflated. Trembling, he pulled his arms close to himself as he tried to calm himself down. Painful wheezes gurgled in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth gaping now in an attempt to draw more air. He couldn’t freak out. Not here. Not now. He had to keep it together. He had to-

“Peter?”

He couldn’t do this.

“Can’t breathe…” He whispered, voice strained as he curled in on himself further. He was absolutely terrified. Every single muscle in his body screamed at him to get out of there. To stand up, push the rubble off, and get as far away as possible from this mess. But he couldn’t force his body to move no matter how hard he tried.

“Hey, hey, hey… calm down, buddy. Take deep breaths with me, okay?”

He blinked, his vision blurring and making the world even harder to see and focus on. He inhaled through a choked gasp mixed with a sob, unable to hide the choked cries that followed. He couldn’t help it nor stop himself. His chest felt as if it were being crushed slowly, refusing to let any air in. His throat burned as his shoulders bounced up and down. 

“C-can’t-”

“Yes you can, Peter. I’m right here, kid. I’ve got ya.”

He groaned, his body spasming as he gagged and choked. A whine rose in his chest as he closed his eyes, tears sliding down the side of his face. He wanted his aunt. He wanted his friends. He wished he’d never come here. He wished he’d never done this. He wished-

“I gotcha… I gotcha.”

He froze up, his brain short-circuiting at the sudden contact. His breath hitched as Tony suddenly grabbed him, pulling him close. He held his breath as Tony began to card his fingers through his hair, trembles still wracking his body. Then, it was as if he unfroze. Peter sunk into Tony, choking on his sobs as he bowed his head down low.

“Just calm down… we’ll be outta here real soon.”

Soon. They’d be out soon.

Peter inhaled shakily, closing his eyes and focusing on the words. Trying to use them to ground himself in a way. Maybe even calm himself down. So, he let himself bask in the silence that wrapped itself around the two. He let himself steady his breathing to the best of his ability, steadily gaining control of the sobs and panicked inhales and exhales.  “...care to explain what that was about?” Tony murmured, almost hesitantly, after a moment.

“We’re trapped under a building. Don’t I have a right to panic?” Peter whispered shakily, earning a laugh from Tony. “Yeah. I suppose you do… but that was more than just panicking, kid.” He responded, glancing down at the boy who still kept his head bowed. Tony hadn’t let go of Peter just yet, but he kept his hold on him loose in case Peter wanted personal space. “You don’t have to explain, but it’d help a lot if-”

“I’ve been trapped under a collapsed warehouse before.”

“...I beg your pardon?” Tony gently pushed Peter away and let his hands slide up the young vigilante’s shoulders, keeping him upright. Peter let out a nervous, unsteady laugh as he looked up hesitantly. “I- uh… thought I’d get it off my chest right away. Just rip it off like a band aid, y’know.” He explained, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I don’t care how fast you said it, bud- you were trapped under a building?” Tony whispered, tilting his head.

“Yeah uh… homecoming. I went after the Vulture and he - uh, Toomes - sort of… took out a bunch of support beams for the warehouse… and it collapsed on me… But I got out!”

“...and you didn’t care to tell me?” Tony narrowed his eyes, his voice far from accusing. Almost concerned. “I didn’t want you to blame yourself or worry because I was fine! Honestly!” Peter cried out, waving his hands in front of himself as he carefully inched out of Tony’s hold. “I promise! I’m fine!” 

“You are not fine. Did you not see what just happened?”

“Panicking in situations like this is normal.”

“Not panic attacks.”

Peter fell silent, looking away. Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. He heard Peter clear his throat before he opened his eyes again. “Okay… okay. I’m not mad at you, kid. I don't blame myself.” A lie. “But you need to tell people about things like this. It’s not healthy. Bottling up that much emotions like that doesn’t get you far in the long run. It just drags you down.”

“I’ve been fine though!”

“You’re fine until you’re put into a similar situation.” Tony argued. “This isn’t how normal people function, Peter… not that you aren’t normal. It’s just not healthy for you.” He tried to explain, voice softening. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself or anyone else.” He continued, pursing his lips. “...y’know what I mean?” He murmured softly, tilting his head a little more. Peter opened his mouth to speak when the rubble overhead gave a jerk. 

Immediately, Tony had his arms wrapped around Peter again. He practically brought the boy into a hug and leaned over Peter, narrowing his eyes as his mask crawled over his face again. If the rubble fell on them, there wasn’t a good chance that his suit would hold up. It’s integrity was already low enough from the initial collapse. And if he wanted to add in the-

“Howdy Stark. Need some help?”

Exhaling a shaky sigh of relief, Tony shook his head as streaks of light pierced through the darkness. “Took you long enough, Clint.” He muttered, slowly looking up and watching as the rubble around them lit up. He glanced around, watching as Steve appeared around the edge of the piece on top of them. There was a pause before he began to wave his hands. A moment later, the rubble was sliding off to the side.

“...Mister Stark? Can you get off me?”

“Oh shit! Right, right. Sorry, kid!” Tony exclaimed, reeling backwards. He brushed some dust and dirt off his suit, clearing his throat as Peter sat upright and looked around. After registering the fact that they would be out from beneath the rubble, Peter let out a shaky sigh. “Oh thank god… I don’t know how much longer I could handle your voice, mister Stark.”

“Hey!”

16 with ethan?

Okay @vintagedolan lowkey this is what would’ve happened in downhill if Grayson hadn’t been an ass lol (jk idk anything about winter sports)

16. Riding together up the ski lift. 

This day wasn’t supposed to start with you and your bundle of nerves. Today was going to be a fun holiday with you and one of your closest friends, but when he ended up in bed sick that morning, you knew you weren’t going to be able to drag him out of bed and to the slopes. His head was burning up with a fever, probably because you guys hadn’t been wearing the proper clothing when you took that pitstop to play in the snow. You’d both gone to bed alright but now he was a sneezing mess. The plan was for you to stay back and take care of him, but he’d insisted you go anyways, not wanting to ruin your vacation as well. You were grateful, but still a bit upset that you had to do this all by yourself.

So when you were checking your phone to send one last text to your friend telling him you probably wouldn’t respond to him for the next hour or so, of course you were nervous. But the sudden voice you heard behind you only made that spike even higher.

“Hey, hold on!” You turned to see a boy in a thick jacket and black cargo pants running up to you. His short hair was freckled with white snow, and he had a quiet smile on his lips. “You dropped this.” He held his hand out to you, and you saw that he was holding one of your gloves.

“Oh!” You reached into your pockets and found only one of them in there. You took it from him, your cold fingers grazing his surprising warm ones as you did so. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” He smiled, before turning to jog back towards the two people he’d been talking to. You slid your phone into your jacket pocket, zipping it closed before bending down to pick your board up off the ground. Your eyes seemed to follow him as he left, you slipping on your gloves as they did so, but you quickly turned away when you saw the other man with him look up in your direction, causing your face to heat up. You shook your head, then set off for the slopes.

・ ・ ・

Originally, you and your friend were going to go for the Black Diamond, considering you both had a good amount of experience and were pretty good on the slopes. However, you weren’t feeling as confident without him by your side, so you decided to ease in at least a little bit by going for the Blue Square trail first. You had to wait quite a while before you were able to finally get to the front of the line. Eventually you got there, and you slowly glided down until you hit the red marker, your left foot buckled into your snowboard. You felt someone coming up behind you, and the person slid to a stop next to you.

“Hey, it’s you.” You looked up to see the same short haired boy, but now his hair was covered by a cute little beanie and his goggles were hoisted up on his head.

“Oh, hey!”

You replied, looking back behind you waiting for the chair lift to come. When it did, you both gently sat back on the seat, and he reached up to grab the bar above your heads. He looked at you, and you hovered your arms up so he could pull the bar down.

You gave him a quick smile, then looked down. You always liked to watch your feet gradually leave the ground, then see them suspended in the air. Your board gently rested on your other foot. You looked back up at him, deciding to fill the silence. “Where’s your friends?” 

His head was turned away from you, watching the trees far off in the distance before turning around at your voice. “Oh, they decided to start on the easier slopes.”

“Ah.”

“You flying solo too?”

“Yea. My friend was supposed to come too but he got sick.”

“Aw, that sucks.”

“Yea.” The sun reflected off of his goggles, and you had to squint a bit to look at him.

“So, you done this before?”

“Oh yeah. I skied a lot when I was younger, but I started snowboarding a lot last winter.”

“You good?”

“I’d like to think so.” You both giggled. “You?”

“Yea, I come lot with my brother so I get a lot of practice.”

You nod your head. “Shouldn’t you be doing one of harder ones then?”

“I like to work my way up.” He responded. “Might as well get the most of all the slopes.”

“That’s true.”

“How about you? Sounds like you’re pretty good.”

You chuckled. “I was going to go to one of the diamonds, but I’ve actually never snowboarded on my own before. Bit nervous about doing it without anybody else with me.”

“Well that makes sense, can be a bit unnerving to feel like nobody’s gonna be there.”

“You wouldn’t even know the half of it.”

The boy went quiet for a moment, but then said “Wanna go down the slope together?” When he turned to look at you his jacket rubbing against itself made a little sound. “Yknow, since it’s your first time.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You probably don’t want me weighing you down, though-”

“No, seriously. It’s all good. I’m used to snowboarding with my brother or some friends too, so.” He shrugged.

You smiled. “Alright, as long as it’s okay with you.”

“One hundred percent.”

“Thank you. It’s really nice of you.”

“Don’t even mention it. Oh- I’m Ethan, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You both awkwardly shook hands, but smiled at each other nonetheless.

“Oh-”

He tapped your shoulder then nodded forward to signal to you that you’d reached the summit. He raised the bar above your heads, and you both twisted your legs so you landed on your boards, gliding gently towards the start of the trail. 

“Alright, gimme a sec.” He pulled his gloves on and put on his goggles, and you followed suit. “You ready?”

“Yea.” You looked down the trail, seeing many people racing down the slope, getting smaller and smaller the farther away they got. You took in a deep breath.

“Hey.” You felt Ethan’s hand on your shoulder, and you looked back at him. He looked a little goofy with his goggles on. “You’re gonna be fine.”

You grinned. “Yea, I know.” You paused. “Hey, wanna make this interesting?”

He tilted his head at you. “How so?”

You bit your tongue. “Wanna race?”

“Oh, are you sure you wanna do that? I don’t think you know how good I am.”

“Are you underestimating me?”

He held his hands up in defense. “Of course not.”

“Then how about it then?”

He finally returned your enthusiastic grin. “Alright. Bet.”

“Okay, on the count of three.”

He nodded.

“One, two…” You suddenly pushed with your foot, gliding forward and then down the slope, out of sight. 

“Hey, no fair!” He yelled, but laughed still, chasing after you.

You both raced down the mountain, and you could see him gaining on you through the corner of your eye. He passed you for a moment, but he had to swerve to avoid a tree, giving you an advantage. Snow was flying as you seared through it, and it would’ve definitely gotten in your eyes if it weren’t for your goggles. The wind was cold and almost painful against your face, but the exhilaration of the speed made it seem infinitesimal. It’d been so long since you felt so free and alive like this; You were loving every moment of it. 

You were both neck and neck, one of you gaining on the other every few seconds, but eventually you ended up gaining a much larger lead.

Ethan was competitive, sure, but for some reason it was like this fire was set within him with you. He needed to beat you. He had to win. So he leaned forward, gaining more and more speed, eventually passing you with the biggest grin on his face. He looked back to you with a victorious expression for just a split second, but that was enough for him to lose focus on what he was doing. He had tried to look for you when he looked back, and it made him swivel a bit, rendering him unable to notice the icy patch he’d just slid onto. His head jerked forward, and he tried to right himself, but when that didn’t work he tried to stop, redirecting his board to get it across the run. However the icy slope made him overshoot, and he fell back, his feet flying up into the air and his shoulder crashed into the ground. 

You’d had your eye on his grey jacket since he passed you, so when you saw his fall you gasped, immediately stopping as fast as you could. You quickly unbuckled yourself form your board and picked it up, running as fast as you could to Ethan’s fallen body.

“Oh my god, are you okay??” You asked incredulously, crouching down next to him to turn him around onto his back.

“Fuck, yea. I’m good.” He tried to sit up, but his arm buckled and his back fell against the snow again.

“Jeez, come on.” You grabbed his arm and helped him up, dragging him to the side of the slope so you wouldn’t interrupt any of the other skiers. 

“What’d you land on?”

“My arm.” He went to grab his shoulder, but winced when he did.

You took your gloves off and stuffed them into your pockets, running your hands up and down his shoulder. “Does it hurt bad?” 

“Not too much. I don’t think it’s sprained or anything.” He stretched his neck out, pulling it away from his hurt arm. “God dammit, I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?”

“Well I kinda took the fun out of the race, for one thing.” He laughed.

“Don’t worry about that. What’s important is you’re okay.”

“I’m good. Promise.” He sighed. “Probably might wanna take a little break, though.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a good idea.”

Luckily for you both, you were already pretty close to the bottom of the slope so you and Ethan were able to walk the rest of the way down.

“Sorry for ruining your run.” He said once you’d reached the bottom.

“Don’t worry about it. It was still fun.” You smiled. 

“I guess I’ll see you later then?”

“What? No! I’m not gonna leave you like this.”

“I was just planning on heading out.”

“Where’re you staying? I’ll drop you off.”

“No, there’s no need for that, really.”

“Come on, it’s basically my fault you’re hurt.” You went to hold his arm but he winced again. “See?”

“It’s okay, I’ll just wait for my friends. You go have fun or whatever.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s kinda cold anyways and I think my nose might freeze off.”

He laughed. “Okay, well, what do you wanna do then?”

You thought for a second. “Wanna… go get some hot chocolate? There’s a cute little coffee shop near here I passed by.”

His eyes brightened. “Yes, absolutely.”

You smiled. “Okay, let’s go.”

Domestic

So this is straight up gonna be a compilation of gross, silly, and funny domestic moments of various characters. And of various things. If you’re easily grossed out, maybe don’t read this. I’ll try to list all yucky things ahead, but be warned. Just a snack while I work on rqs and wips!

I’m not listing every character on here like usual and you can’t make me.

3k and some change words total.

Butt zits, pregnancy, vomit, snot/sneezing, blackheads, farts, burps, poop, periods, yeast infections, B.O., Testicular cancer, pee, pubic hair, teeth goop, bad breath, and some smut.

You were shimmying your shirt on, trying to avoid staining the edges with your deodorant, when your boyfriend hurried to you from the bathroom.

"[Name], is this a blackhead or a freckle?"

You sighed as you spoke, paying little mind to Izuku as you checked the shirt's edges for marks, "It's a freckle, Izzy."

When you were met with silence, you looked up into his fervent pout.

"Don't give me that look, that's the same tone you gave me when I asked you that a week ago!"

"Just- check, please? I might have an interview later," he wheedled.

You huffed without malice, "Yeah and they're definitely going to do an HD zoom check on your pores."

"Ow owww, your nails are sharp!" For a guy who got his bones broken on the regular before, he sure did whine about little things.

"Ah."

"What?"

"It wasn't a freckle."

"I TOLD YOU." ---------------------------------------------------

"Hi babe," you called from the living room, your voice raised over the sound of the TV.

Eijiro headed past the living room to dump his gym bag on the bedroom floor, "Heey."

"Have fun?"

"Well, you weren't there so..." His voice came through more clearly as he walked back toward you.

"Awww," You cooed with puckered lips in a mock kissy-face.

He flopped heavily down beside you on the couch, tucking his arm behind your head.

"Tetsu says hi," he notes cheerfully, leaning in to mouth at your neck.

It takes a second for the prickle of teeth to pull your eyes away from the screen and into a lidded stare, "Mmm."

You can feel Eiji nudging his leg up under yours, trying to settle you more into his lap.

The firm pressure of his thigh under your ass didn't stay comfortable for long.

"Eiji..." You almost didn't want him to stop the tickle of hot breath on your throat.

"Mmm..."

"Eijiro."

"Yeah, baby?"

"You're stinky." -----------------------------------------------

"Honeeeey-"

You heard your husband's feet hurried across the floor to the bed, "Yeaaaah?"

"Feel my balls."

"Are we really already past the sweet-talk phase?"

"No, really."

You sighed, seeing the wavering smile on Neito's face that tended to show up when he was worried, and sat up away from your book to cup the presented scrotum.

"Do you...feel anything?"

"I feel balls."

"[Name]!"

"No, sweetie, I don't feel anything. Why?"

"I just...thought I felt something."

With another sigh, you smiled fondly, "No baby, they feel just like they always do. Come lay down?"

Without a smug comment or cocky look, he climbed in beside you as you made room. He must have been really freaked out.

Nothing a few kisses can't fix.

--------------------------------------------- It was moments before disaster.

The calm before the storm.

The gentle hugs and rubs before movie night was rudely interrupted.

The sneeze caught you off-guard, even caught Katsuki off guard, his hand coming to your side when you jerked from the force.

When you stilled, nose still buried in your arm, he raised a brow.

"Babe, let me up."

"What? Why?"

Despite his protests you moved his arms from around you and lifted yourself up off his lap, revealing the wet spot left on his poor soft sweat pants.

He ended up following you out to change pants. -------------------------------------------- "Ow, babe, careful!"

"I'm trying! This isn't exactly a clear process."

Untangling your boyfriend's pubes was not exactly how you expected your evening of intimacy to go.

Things had been so sweet, naked and cozy in bed, gently running your fingers through the black tufts above his cock while you sucked tongue together...

And now the damn thing was in the way. His half hard dick trying to spring up with every shift while you tried to pull apart the knot.

"That’s it, I'm getting the scissors."

"No!" -------------------------------------------- Tetsu nearly ironed up on reflex when you jumped him immediately outside of the locker room.

"Whoa, babe!"

You snickered at him, comfy even with his firm grip on your biceps. "Whats with that look? Don't tell me you really got spooked by me."

"I just didn't expect you here! I'm not off duty for another few hours, y'know," He huffed.

You wiggled free of his grasp to dip your hand into the satchel on your hip, tugging out a yellow lunchbox, "Yeah, but now's about your lunchtime, right? I thought we could eat together."

He looked curiously at the meal once you'd opened the box, steam wafting out from the pan-fried spinach and egg. Little strips of cooked beef took up more of the box, along with some rice and lemon.

He was drooling with as much intensity as his heart throbbed for you.

With a relieving snort, he wrapped his arms around you, tight and firm.

You got the box closed just in time to keep his pressing from spilling the food, "I take it that's a positive response?"

"It would be stupid of me to say no," he spoke into your hair while his hands rubbed into your sides.

With his chin untucked from your head, you peered up as he leaned in for a kiss. Butterflies were still frequent, though they laid forgotten when you spotted green against pearly white.

He expected your lips on his mouth, not your thumb, picking at leftover spinach from the morning. The butterflies were well and alive in his chest. ---------------------------------------------- Your muscles ached wonderfully as you stretched out in bed. You knew you needed to get up and get going for the day soon, you had things to get done.

Waiting for Katsuki to be done in the bathroom was just taking way too long. You could feel the sog in your panties from your night-time pad. Nasty.

So off you rolled from the bed, shuddering when your bare feet touched the cold floor.

"Katsukiiiiii," you called through the bathroom door.

All it garnered was a grunt.

"Are you gonna be much longer?"

"Go back to bed!"

That was definitely a yes.

"No, I'm coming in. I have shit to do," you fussed as you opened the door. Neither of you had bothered locking the door in ages.

"So do I!" He huffed at you from the toilet.

You wheezed slightly when the brick wall of stink hit you. Goddamn his love for bowel ruining food.

He glared up at your wrinkled nose as you leaned over him to the cabinet above, tugging a pad out, "Explosive sweat, explosive attitude, explosively rank farts. A triple threat."

You squirmed when he took to nipping at your exposed belly, "Shut up."

He quit when you whacked him in the head with the pad, "Brat."

He didn't bat an eye when you stripped off your panties to free and roll up the used pad, stuffing it into the trashcan beside the toilet.

He did however rip another deafening fart with a smug grin.

You only half-mocked the gag you let out, deciding to grab your toothbrush and paste with your panties still around your thighs.

"Fuck you I'm gonna use the kitchen sink."

"Told you to wait."

"I'm gonna spit in your favorite mug." ----------------------------------------------- Candlelight danced against the walls, rolling in just the same as how your lover's hips did with yours.

The scent of them was a bit overwhelming, Izuku having dug into your stockpile and grabbing a bunch of random types.

Still, with your nose buried in his neck, most of it was drowned out.

You bit and moaned into his skin as the tip of his cock ground against your sweet spot, "God- yes! Right-Right there, Izzz-Izuku!"

He leaned back enough to lick into your panting mouth, clearly just as lost in the pleasure.

Your nails carved into his back, toes curling, as you came on his fat dick. And he didn't stop, chasing his own release while the flutters and pulses were still strong around him.

So, you were very caught off guard when a lustful groan broke into a screaming sneeze.

Usually, it was his face getting splashed on during sex.

"O-Oh my god I'm so sorry!" His hips abandoned their assault while he took the sheet to quickly wipe your face. You tried to ignore the snot trail on his nose.

So were the risks of mixing candles. ----------------------------------------------- It wasn't terrible often that you got to top. Denki was usually too restless to just lie back and take you like he should, even when he wanted to!

But tonight he moaned and keened for you so sweetly, legs spread wide and hips twitching off the bed with each suck to his taint.

"Yes, yesyesyes, god yes! Right there!"

Your fingers were a bit sidetracked, their objective to simply spread the lube and stretch Denki out forgotten once they'd found his prostate.

You let your fingers grind into that spot until Denki was fucking himself back on them. Oh, how he whined when you took them out, the pleasure leaving with them.

You gave the back of his thigh a slap, lifting it as you nudged the tip of your strap against his slick asshole.

He sighed happily when you slid it in, but you only made it a few inches before your warmup thrusting was interrupted.

His moans cut out suddenly and his eyes were wide. You were sure it must have hurt when he scrambled up off your cock and bolted off the bed toward the bathroom.

"NOT NOW, NOT NOW GODDAMMIT!"

You caught onto the issue and belted out laughing, "You didn't go beforehand?!" ----------------------------------------------- These weren't exactly the sighs of pleasure Hanta expected to hear tonight, but they were pleasant all the same.

It was a lover's duty to love and care for one another, and one he was happy to perform.

"God, yes, Hanta. Right there."

When the vaginal cream appliques proved too short for his sweetheart's vagina, his dexterous and long fingers were the perfect thing to assist.

"Feel better, babe?" He asked softly.

You hummed approval, already feeling relief from the damn surge of yeast, even more so when he pressed a soft kiss to your temple before he went to go clean off his hands. ----------------------------------------------------- It felt like Eijiro's cock was in your throat with the way he had you bent. Knees up so far and hips off the bed while his thick cock stretched you so deliciously.

His breath was hot on your neck, panting and groaning against you with each hungry clench your pussy gave around him.

You were giving him similar treatment, cracked moans of pleasure each time his pelvis brushed and pressed to your clit.

You could tell he was peaking, thrusts getting spastic and hurried, so you egged him on, crying his name in his ear and digging your nails into his back.

He was so close, you were sure.

You weren't quite as sure after another thrust shoved a belch out of you and into his ear.

He was snorting and laughing as he came. -------------------------------------------------- It'd been a bit since Izuku was willing to be atop you.

The swell of your belly either simply getting in the way, or his worry of accidentally pressing against it too much doing the same.

But with you laid down in the bed, Izuku's hips moving slowly above you while he dented the bedframe with his grip, you found it was a wonderful compromise.

You'd missed his cock, finding that with your positions limited, it'd been hard to get him as deep into you as you'd have liked. Especially for oral. The height wrong to simply sit on the bed and let him stand, your stomach being an issue for laying down, and you just couldn't kneel for long anymore without pain.

So finally having the weight of his dick in your throat, the taste of his skin heavy on your tongue, was a blessing.

He was still being so gentle, keeping his thrusts smooth and his eyes glued to your expression, a hand tangled in your hair. Even so, your hands were pinned to his ass, nails leaving crescents beside the freckles.

Another moan around him was all he needed to chase his peak, cock twitching as he fucked his cum into your throat a bit faster.

The next few seconds were too dizzying to be anything more than a blur.

The taste of his cum was never great; it was cum after all. But it'd always been on the better side and had the bonus of it being his. Plus, you were kind of a cumslut.

And yet, you yanked off of his cock in a blink, leaning around his thigh to the trashcan beside the nightstand, cum and some of dinner coming violently from your mouth.

Izuku panicked, climbing off you and rubbing your back as you coughed, "[N-Name], are you okay?"

He reached past you to pull the tissues closer, bringing one to your leaking nose, "I haven't forgotten to eat the fruit..."

You let him wipe your snot and misdirected vomit, "It's not that, baby..."

Apparently, you had to add spunk to the list of things your body rejected during pregnancy. ----------------------------------------------------- It was almost a quiet evening.

A satisfying dinner, and love-making a bit later even more so.

Neito had a glass of water in one hand, a book in the other, smiling contentedly as you scrolled your phone and laid your head on his lap.

The way your fingers combed through his soft curls almost made him want to go again, and he thought nothing of it when your phone fell out of view.

After a few tugs at the carpet and the distinct sensation of your hand on his dick, he moved the book aside to actually look at what you were doing.

"Uh...love?"

You snickered, gently placing another fallen out pube on the tip of his cock, "Look babe, it's got a toupee!" ---------------------------------------------------- You were so cozy. It was a sunday morning, and for once Tetsu wasn't rushing off to work, or an emergency call, or to go train at the gym.

It was just you, him, and the sleep-warmed bed.

It was so quiet and calm, you didn't quite want to even roll over into your lover's arms, lest it disturb the peace and summon something to ruin the day.

At the sound of Tetsu's phone going off, you damned your thoughts for drawing the attention of the universe.

He shifted sleepily, a deep breath against your hair as he reached for his phone. You pressed back against him a bit insistently, holding his free arm tight against you with an unquiet whine.

But, instead of a groggy and admittedly pleasant sleep-roughed greeting to whoever was on the phone, you were met with silence, and his arm coming to rest back over you.

"You're not gonna answer?"

Tetsu turned toward you, rolling that gruff voice that you loved into your ear, "It'd be shameful to spoil our time like that."

His nose brushed up over your ear and at last you let yourself turn in his grasp to tangle into him properly.

"Aww, babe," You cooed.

His hair was messy, his eyes half closed and clearly ready to go back to sleep, but you couldn't help a kiss, just one to settle yourself.

The texture and warmth did just that, though the heavy smell of dry mouth and iron kind of ruined it.

At your wrinkled nose and retreat from the kiss, Tetsu huffed, "That bad?"

"Like a dying car."

"Now that's just rude," He snorted. "Guess I'll just have to do something else."

With his pearly daggers looming over you, suddenly it wasn't his bad breath you worried about. ----------------------------------------------------- Denki had been looking oddly smug all day. Since the moment he woke up, till the moment he was shucking his clothes for bed.

"Y'know, you really did me in last night."

You looked up from where you had your phone balanced on your breast, "Yeah?"

He kicked his briefs across the floor, climbing in with you to lay on his belly, "Yeaaah. My assholes been sensitive all day. If I sit wrong, I can feel it."

You snort, "Is that why you were wiggling around all damn day?"

He just gave you a sly grin, utterly pleased as he shifted his bare hips around on the sheets.

You roll your eyes fondly and lean in to play his game, bringing a hand down on his ass-cheek loudly and going in for a kiss.

"Been thinkin' about that ache all day, honey? Just couldn't get my cock out of your head?" You tease, both by word and by the fingers brushing over the swell of his ass. You tug a cheek open and let it snap back against the other.

Denki groans softly, wagging his ass against your touch.

You coo a bit of praise and lust into his ear while you slip a finger between his cheeks, running them over his well-loved hole.

"...Denki, pull your butt open for me?"

With a smile he obeys, not picking up on your less than lustful expression.

After a bit of shuffling, you click your tongue, "Yeah, that ache you kept feeling, hon?"

He hummed in acknowledgement, though it cut off into a yelp when he felt a pinch near very sensitive skin.

"Yeah, it was a zit." --------------------------------------------------- Sometimes you amused yourself with the idea that your husband's hair was made specifically for you. For your hands to grip and tug at the perfectly tall and available peaks.

But that thought is as fleeting and light as Katsuki's tongue on your clit.

It would surely be easier for him if he'd just use a hand to part you, but he really did seem to prefer merely bullying his mouth between your folds and keeping his hands pinned under your ass, rolling the flesh in his rough palms. Each time he slipped out, your slick pussy making it hard to keep inside, he'd suck noisily to each labium before diving back inside.

As soon as he took his tongue from your hole, you were using his hair like reigns to grind yourself on his tongue. Lips, nose, chin- it was all fair game when he let you use him like this.

You earned a sharp smack to your arched ass when you ground a bit too much on his nose, sure he'd be snorting your arousal for at least a good hour.

Regardless, he tucked his nose back against your clit, tongue finding its way back in to thrust quick and heavy in your entrance.

It would be your love's undoing, as another grip to your ass spurned your guts to release air.

A rolling fart, as well, one that would often leave you shifting uncomfortably for a good while as you tried to press the air bubbles out.

Instead, it slipped right into your lover's face.

He recoiled fast, coughing and wiping his face as if the smell and butt particles would merely wipe away.

An apology was on the tip of your tongue, until you remembered last week's interruption in the bathroom.

"VENGEANCE IS MINE!"