#yes ill turn it off and let it cool before i fully shut it in the cupboard

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Maintenance guy woke me up two hours before my alarm was supposed to go off. I am missing out on important sleep sir. I am also missing out on important packing for my trip, and changing into proper clothes. Sir, this problem that is in no way your fault and you are trying to fix, is ruining my day. Sir.

[phoebe-delia]

Hi Phoebe! If you're still accepting prompts, would "a single thread of gold tied me to you" from the song lyrics list be acceptable (and/or drarry soulmates)?

I love your writing, and I hope December is treating you well! 💜

One single thread of gold tied me to you

Oh, sweet anon, thank you so much! Both for the prompt and for your kind words about my writing. My brain has been being mean to me lately about my writing, so this made me smile.

I love soulmate stuff so much but I'm not sure I've ever written it before! So. Here's my take on it. I wrote a little Victorian AU, because I LOVE Victorian AU!Drarry.

Draco nearly choked on his champagne and had a coughing fit when he saw Harry Potter again. It took everything he'd learned in his decade of decorum training not to simply spit out the large sip he'd just taken of champagne and spew it all over Lady Coatesworth-Haye's gown. Though if Draco hadn't been focusing his energy elsewhere at that moment, he might've had the passing thought that her gown couldn't be made worse for it.

Still, he managed to swallow while keeping one eye on the old woman and the other on Potter. The man moved easily through the ballroom, exchanging greetings with the party-goers. Potter had a charming smile for each of them, but Draco felt his confusion nearly outweigh his shock at seeing Potter continue determinedly through the crowd, as if on a mission.

"...wouldn't you agree?" Draco was pulled from his musings to look back at the haughty and wrinkled face of the woman in front of him.

Draco cleared his throat. "Yes, quite right, madame." He glanced around, relieved when he saw a server coming toward them with an empty tray. "If you will excuse me," he said, not waiting for a reply before walking off, setting his half-full champagne glass down on the passing tray.

Draco moved quickly but tried not to make his haste too obvious, lest the guests think the son of the hosts was trying to leave his parents' own party. He finally made his way outside to the balcony and braced himself on the railing. He breathed heavily, letting the cool night air fill his lungs while he tried to formulate a plan.

What on earth was Potter doing? Draco wanted to scream. He immediately regretted having left his champagne inside.

He had to get out of there, party be damned. He'd claim he'd fallen ill and then take his leave. "Forgive me, Mother," he muttered to himself, preparing to brave the crowd one last time and strategizing how he'd be able to escape without running into Potter.

He heard the door open, the noise of the party briefly spilling into the peaceful night before it shut again.

"Draco?"

The sound of his name, in that voice, brought tears to Draco's eyes. He forced them back, absolutely refusing to let himself cry. "Potter," he replied cooly, not turning around to greet him.

He heard Potter take a step toward him. "I've been looking for you."

Draco kept his expression neutral, turning his head slightly over his shoulder. "Well, you've found me."

"I was hoping to speak with you."

“I’m afraid I must decline."

"Might I inquire as to why?"

"I've fallen ill. You would do well to keep away from me, Potter."

Potter frowned and stepped closer into Draco's space. "You seem perfectly healthy to me." He pressed the back of his hand to Draco's forehead. Draco froze at Potter's light touch. Potter's hand left warmth in its wake when he lifted it from Draco's person.

"Ah," Potter said, nodding. "You are sick. But I believe we suffer from the same affliction."

Draco scoffed. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. Heartbreak is contagious."

Draco whipped around to face Potter fully, glaring at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Potter smiled at him a bit sadly. "We have to discuss this sooner or later, you understand."

Potter's hand moved closer to Draco's, but Draco yanked his hand away. "I see no reason why we should ever have to discuss this."

"I can give you three reasons."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Easily. First, I miss you terribly." Potter took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

Draco's heart skipped a beat. "What-"

"Second, you pine for me just as strongly."

"But—no, I—"

"And third," Potter placed his hand firmly over Draco's, and a thin, shimmering golden thread appeared and tied itself around their wrists, linking them together. "We belong together," he whispered.

Draco felt a tear slip down his cheek as he looked at their joined hands.

"And no matter how much you want to pretend we'll never work, or that society will never embrace us, it hasn't made me love you any less." Potter lifted his other hand to cup the back of Draco's neck. "Stop running from me. Stop running from yourself."

"Harry." It came out of Draco's chest like a wheeze; like it was the last gust of air from his lungs. His breath shuddered as a few more tears spilled. "Nothing's changed, you know that. My parents won't accept our soulmate bond, and they never will. Do you know the risk you took by simply coming here?" Draco turned his hand over to lace his fingers with Harry's.

"I had to see you. I was distraught, and hurt, and so angry. But I've thought it through, and I've got a plan." Harry's expression shifted to one of fierce determination. "Draco, come away with me. We can leave now, tonight."

"H-Harry," Draco breathed. "You're mad!"

"Mad for you, perhaps," Harry grinned at him. "Just picture it, Draco. We can escape and live a life of our own. I've got a friend a few towns away by boat. She can take us in while we find a permanent home.

"You've got your own vaults, now; out of your parents' control. And so have I, since my birthday last month. We might not have our titles, or our status, but we'll be comfortable." Harry met his eyes directly. "And we'll be free to love each other, openly. Without fear."

Harry wiped a tear from Draco's cheek. "I know the choice isn't easy. But can you honestly tell me that you would be happier here than with me? Would you truly rather marry someone you don't love in order to please your parents? Instead of the person chosen by the Gods to love you?"

Draco took a shuddering breath. "Harry," he began. "You were right; I've missed you like a part of me." He forced back more tears. "And then tonight, when you found me out here, I thought you were going to tell me you'd given up on me."

"No, my love," Harry shook his head. "Never."

Draco sniffed. "I've thought constantly about that day. About all the things I should have said and didn't. But I don't wish to waste any more time. The answer to your question is yes, Harry, of course. I love you." Draco crossed the short distance between them and pulled Harry into a kiss.

A few skipped heartbeats later, they pulled away, breathless and a bit teary. "Thank Merlin you said yes," Harry chuckled. "I don't know what I would've done."

"Of course I did. I'd follow you anywhere, Harry." Draco sealed his promise with a small kiss on Harry's lips. "Anywhere."

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy jack and tubbo

requested: yes/no

an: part 4 of the great adventures series

pairing: platonic y/n/tommy/jack/tubbo

warning: cursing

It was the afternoon before your new adventure with your friends. you had no idea what to expect, however everyone else knew even ranboo, and he wasn’t even joining you all. you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, especially after hearing some of tommys plans for future uploads. tubbo had been trying to drop hints about what was going to happen. You honestly couldn’t tell if he was excited or nervous, either way you could tell it was going to be a once in a lifetime opportunity and boy were you excited. the sound of knocking pulled you from your thoughts.

“hi y/n! sorry for the unexpected visit, i tried to call you but it wouldn’t go through.”

“oh god sorry, tubbo, my phones on charge upstairs, ive just finished babysitting my friends twitch chat.”

“that’s okay, tommy wanted me to see if you want to stay the night as i can take you with me now. he said something about it saving time tomorrow as jack won’t have to go as far and we can get there earlier, i honestly just think he’s slightly nervous and wants to spend time with someone.”

“i’ve not prepared a bag or anything as i was just planning on grabbing everything i needed in the morning, but i’m down to go with you. i’ll pack a bag real quick, make yourself feel at home. you can stay down here or come upstairs with me.”

tubbo followed you upstairs, and helped you pick which outfits would be the best to wear for the trip. around 10 minutes later you finished packing your bag and turned around to see a very pale tubbo, dropping your bag to the floor you pulled a chair up to your bed sitting opposite him.

“you feeling okay tubs?”

“just nerves, I'll be alright, are you ready to go?”

“ready if you are!”

the journey to tommys was relatively quick, you spent it talking about group plans for when ranboo comes to the uk.

tubbo: almost here!

tommy: yes! want to stream for a bit later, just something small could do laugh and the stream ends. i’ll go talk to my mum now!

•••

tubbo: please open the door

tommy: on it

the pair of you stood at the door waiting for tommy to unlock it

“TUBBO! Y/N I'M GLAD YOU COULD BOTH MAKE IT!”

not too long later, you and tubbo had put everything away and sat with tommy planning out a small stream.

“so i was talking with my parents and we can do an outside stream, and set fire to marshmallows!”

“as much as i love fire tommy i don’t think your parents will appreciate arson in the garden.”

“it’ll be fine now grab a jacket, we need to go walk to the shop.”

the three of you set off determined to get to the shop and back before it got dark, tommy and tubbo walked on either side of you as they want you to feel safe. thankfully the shop was only around the corner so you were all only out for about 20 minutes maximum, you probably could have made it back earlier but you stopped every time you saw a pretty rock.

“y/n come on we still need to stream!”

“did you tweet that you were streaming?”

“no he didn’t.”

“then come and look at this pretty rock!”

tommy and tubbo couldn’t help but laugh at how many rocks you managed to pick up.

•••

“guys i think i’d rather just spend time with you all rather than stream.”

“that’s fine, tommy!!”

the three of you sat around the fire updating one another about plans and opportunitie, coming. the conversation swiftly came to an end when tommy had set fire to a stick claiming it was to make the fire grow. you laughed as you heard his mum yelling at him to stop trying to set you and tubbo on fire.

“sorry about that everyone, but look the fire is big again.”

it got colder as the sun went down, so the three of you sat with a blanket draped over you all. his mum offered to take photos for you and you happily accepted, the pictures looked amazing and you posted it to instagram with the caption ‘i am cold and no one is telling me what’s happening tomorrow.’

it was around 11pm when the three of you agreed it was time to go back inside and sleep.

•••

you and tubbo stayed downstairs and tommy stayed in his room. the sound of tubbos alarm woke the pair of you up.

“turn that fucking thing off!”

“this is the fourth time it’s gone off and you’re still not up?”

“that’s because i’m tired.”

“please get ready jack will be here soon enough.”

realisation finally hit today was the day you were finally about to find out what this once in a lifetime opportunity was. tubbo advised you to wear sensible clothing and not wear the zodiac necklace you always wore, so you decided to wear the hoodie ranboo sent you a week ago and leggings.

“y/n you might wanna tie your hair up.”

“tubbo are you sure you’re feeling okay? you genuinely look ill."

“i’m fine.”

jack: right i’m outside so whenever you’re ready

lani: we’re making our own way later on as the hotel we stayed at is closer

y/n: will someone tell me what we’re doing

ranboo: no

y/n: you’re not even joining us how did you get in the gc

ranboo: magic

y/n: fuck off give me a clue

ranboo: i’ve said it since you dyed your hair neon f/c you’d be able to see from way up in the sky

y/n: what the actual hell is that supposed to mean

•••

soon enough you met up with everyone else and lani started recording.

“we’re skydiving, you ready tubbo?”

“WERE DOING WHAT? HOLY SHIT!”

you honestly couldn’t wait to do this. it was something you had wanted to do for a while, tubbo on the other hand clearly didn’t agree, which was evident through his whining.

you stood with tommy laughing as tubbo sat alone questioning why he agreed to this.

“look at him.”

“he’s is not happy.”

you sat next to jack and tubbo watching the video demonstrating what you will all be doing soon. you let out a nervous laugh, as although you were excited, you couldn’t help but be a bit nervous.

“you could fall into the engine and get chopped up.”

“tommy stop scaring tubbo!”

“what if the parachute doesn’t work?”

“free fall to your death.”

“y/n you’re not helping!”

you stood recording tubbo laying on the floor once again whining.

“tubbo there are so many people behind you!”

“i’m sure the parachute won’t fail tubbo, but if it does it was lovely knowing you!”

“uuuuuuugh!”

“i fully agree bo.”

soon enough you tommy and jack joined tubbo on the floor.

“look at the clouds.”

“we’re going to be in them soon.”

“hell yeah!”

“ughhhh!”

you tried not to laugh trying to calm tubbo down a bit before you all jumped out a plane, which worked until you left him alone with tommy whilst you spoke to jack for a while.

“to be fair that looks quite fun.”

“and dangerous!”

“STOP!”

“well sounds like tubbos thrilled to be here.”

the four of you sat on a bench talking about what’s going to happen, and laughing at tubbos nerves trying to make light of the situation.

“look it’ll be fun, tubbo, provided we don’t die there’s a chance we’ll be in more vlogs.. okay so ignore the black cloud of smoke!”

“that’s not a good omen.”

“shut up!”

you wrapped an arm around tubbo trying to make him feel comfortable and reassure him it’ll be fine, only to be interrupted by jack and tommy bickering about eating before jumping from the plane.

•••

the four of you went to the briefing, at this point you were struggling to contain your excitement, and couldn’t help but laugh out of pure joy.

“no, they are listening, they're just excited.”

after doing training for the jump, you stood with tommy whilst someone questioned him about how he got 9 million subs.

“I just went around being incredibly cool.. doing minecraft.”

you and jack burst out laughing whilst tommy went on to make jokes about how much money he was earning.

•••

it was now almost time to jump out a plane. it was around now nerves were kicking in, so you all went around messing about till you were told it’s time to make your way to get ready.

“let’s go gamers!”

•••

“are you a skydiver enjoyer?”

“i am.”

“well that’s always good... please, don’t let me die!”

“y/n are you scared?”

“no, my ranboo merch will protect me, but if i die can we blame tommy for coming up with this?”

“ranboos not going to believe that you’re wearing the jumper he sent you to jump out a plane.”

a few minutes later you over heard a worker say they’re nervous causing you to tilt your head and blink again, trying to process what was said.

“heh???”

it was now time for the four of you to put the equipment on, so you were ready to jump. jack started talking a lot more than usual at a quicker pace due to the fact he was getting nervous. tommy pointed it out and jack trying to argue he wasn’t made you laugh.

“y/n keeps making a lot of jokes about my parachute being shit.”

“sorry manifold should be fine...more than likely...hopefully. only time will tell really.”

“how you doing buddy?”

“i’m feeling okay. i feel my insides doing inside bits.”

“wonderful!”

you were now all waiting to go as a worker jokes about forgetting something.

“y/n you’re going with him!”

“okay, but why?”

“well you said your ranboo merch will protect you..”

someone went by going rather fast causing you to stare in awe.

“we don’t go that fast, do we?”

“no not unless something goes terribly wrong.”

you all stood there laughing.

“stoppppp!”

“y/n, i’m now thinking you should go with them instead!”

“are you trying to kill me off jack?”

•••

you all set off towards the plane, a mixture of excitement and nerves began kicking in.

“tubbos on a lead.”

“oh i’m really nervous jack.”

“look at y/n!”

lani began to record you, who was now way ahead of the others, so you stopped and waved at lani.

“BYE LANI! HOPEFULLY ILL SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE!”

the others caught up and everyone had their equipment checked again.

“oh dear.. should be fine.”

“i’m alright, don’t worry my ranboo merch will protect us!” you got on first and that when you realised they set you up, so you jumped last as you were more confident and tubbo was jumping first so he could get it out the way.

you all sat on the plane and waved at the camera.

“hi there!”

“hello!”

“hi!”

“please don’t let us die!”

“we’re really jumping out a plane with a dream stan.”

“this is the highest we’ve ever been.”

“gamers in a plane whatever will they do...hopefully not die!”

“Y/N!”

“sorry tubbo!”

you were currently at 2,000 feet and sat looking out the window waiting to reach 14,000 feet. jack turned to you and tommy, “i can’t believe you’re jumping out the plane in philza merch and y/ns jumping out in ranboo merch.”

“if i die at least ill look great doing it.”

12,000 feet later it was now tubbos turn to jump, he looked back at you all.

“YOU GOT THIS TUBBO!!”

you watched as tubbo went.

“GOOD LUCK TOMMY!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN GOOD LUCK? Y/N?”

“BYEEEEE!”

you laughed as tommy went.

“see you later jack!”

you gave jack a high-five and watched as he went.

“holy shit they actually did it!”

“are you ready, y/n?”

“hell yeah, let’s do this!”

you laughed as you jumped, you couldn’t believe you actually got to jump out of a plane, you waved at camera.

lani met the others as they landed and began telling them about it.

“wait where’s y/n?”

“there they are!”

“Y/N!”

the others ran up to you as you landed.

“i’m glad you didn’t die!”

“thanks jack!”

•••

“would you all do it again?”

“yeah.”

“no.”

“maybe, i’m not sure.”

“i reckon so.”

not too long later, you were all given certificates to celebrate the fact you had jumped out a plane.

“yay it made nearly dying worth it!”

“you’re so dramatic!”

•••

you thought the day was over and that you were going home, little did you know that wasn’t the case.

“were not done for the day.”

“what?”

“heh?”

“you’re tilting your head again.”

“i know it’s because i’m confused!”

“anyway, what do you mean we’re not done?”

“you know george, he’s arrived!”

“gogy!”

“GOGY!”

“can i have a nap in the car please? i’m so exhausted."

taglist:

@l0ver0fj0y

[seriouslysnape]

Under the Weather

Harry Potter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Sickness. 

Word Count: 1,518

“I just hate that you’re feeling bad.”

Harry felt bad. Correction: Harry felt terrible. He watched as you crawled into your bed with sunken eyes and a nasty sounding cough. He wouldn’t ever say this out loud, but you didn’t look so good at all. It was all his fault that you were sick, and he wouldn’t let himself forget it anytime soon.

He had just recovered from possibly the worst case of the flu that he had ever fallen ill with. It had knocked him on his ass for a week due to the fatigue, coughing, fever, and body aches. Pomfrey had done all she could to try to make him comfortable enough, but the strain was just a bit more than her remedies could fix this time around. He was stuck in bed with nothing to do but roll around in his sickness and complain about how bad he felt. 

In the end, Harry was able to recover swiftly and without any real problems. Before too long, he was as good as new thanks to your help. You had taken extra good care of him by keeping him cool from the fever but warm from the chills. You made sure he was eating, even if it was just chicken and soup everyday. You made sure he was hydrated and getting plenty of rest to ensure his recovery...which also included lots of snuggles and kisses.

It turned out that those snuggles and kisses were rather sickly ones, and about the time that Harry was fully feeling better, you had begun to feel crummy. Harry actually noticed it before you did. It was extremely rare for you to sleep later than him. You almost always were up and going before him, but on particular Friday morning, you were still knocked out when he woke up. Not only that, you were unusually warm and ill looking. He had pressed the back of his hand to your head, feeling a pit of guilt when he realized that you definitely were running a fever.

He had woken you up, feeling even worse when you began to cough. He had practically jumped out of your bed, wrapping you up and doing whatever he could to make you comfortable. You had all the same symptoms that he did, and you were guaranteed to be in for a long week. He had insisted that he take another week off from classes to watch over you, but he was already a week behind, and there was no chance that you were letting him fall back more on your account.

He went through all of his classes in a haze of worry. He knew that he had undoubtedly gotten you sick. There was no way that you could’ve gotten it from anyone else. He didn’t even stop in the common room after his classes, going straight back to your dorm where he had left you. When he did walk into your room, you were standing at your trunk, looking weak and drained. You would’ve thought that you had tried to mouth off to Professor Snape by the way Harry reacted.

“What are you doing?!” He shrieked, closing your door and rushing to you.

You threw your hands up in defense, sniffling more drainage out of your nasal passageway.

“What? I’m getting changed. I was in the same pajamas from last night and I felt gross,” You explained with a congested tone, not seeing the big deal, “I’m fine, Harry.”

He ruffled your hair when he noticed it was damp. His face fell into even more horror.

“Did you shower?” He asked as if it were a crime.

“Uh, yes?” You replied nonchalantly.

“But you’re sick! You could’ve...I don’t know! You could’ve fainted or sneezed so hard that you fell or-”

“Harry, I’m not dying. It’s just the flu.” You argued, giggling at his dramatic act.

That sealed the deal. He was dedicating his entire weekend to make sure you were at least on the road to recovery by Monday if you weren’t going to “take care” of yourself.

“Get in bed, you mad woman! What are you doing up?!” He shrilled again, ushering you to your bed again.

That was when you returned to bed to put HIM at ease, looking and sounding just plain awful. That was also when he REALLY started to feel guilty for your current state. He rushed around the room, setting things up the way you had in his when he had been sick. He layered blankets onto your bed, turned on some soft music, made sure the windows were closed to make sure you didn’t catch a cold draft. The only difference was that you had spoken to him in sweet, calm tones. Harry was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

“Are you warm enough, my love?” Harry asked, adding yet another blanket on top of you, rushing to your desk on the other side of the room.

“Yes, Harry. I told you that I’m fin-”

“Do you want a book? Or maybe I can sneak into the kitchen and bring you a snack?” Harry rattled off, barely letting you get a word in.

“No, angel. I don’t want-”

“I promise I don’t mind! The castle is pretty quiet this time of night and Filch is easy to sneak around and-”

“Harry!” You finally croaked out through your already hoarse voice, “I don’t need anything. I’m fine.” 

Harry’s demeanor softened. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing slowed. He was getting himself worked up over nothing, and panicking wasn’t going to solve anything at all.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” He said, sitting on the edge of your bed, “I just hate that you’re feeling bad.”

You shrugged under the pile of covers, giving him a feeble grin. 

“I’m okay. I don’t feel that bad. Just a little under the weather I guess.” You brushed it off.

Harry smiled softly with an even gentler laugh. You certainly didn’t look “a little under the weather”. He had been much more difficult when he was sick. He kicked the sheets off of his body and complained that it was too hot, and then hissed that it was too cold each time he got a new chill. He whined when he had to keep changing clothes because the sweating from his fever dampened his pajamas. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content, even in your ill state. 

“If you say so. Can I squeeze in with you, darling?” He queried, wanting to hold you close in your bed.

“I don’t want you to get sick again. You’re already behind.” You shook your head.

“I don’t care about that. I just want to be with you, my pretty girl.” Harry bantered.

He knew you hated missing school, and you were sure to miss at least a week. The thought of you having to spend the next several days cooped up in your dorm made him feel awful. Worst of all, you weren’t your normal, healthy self and it was all because of him. He wanted you to be happy and at your best at all times, because seeing you happy made him happy. 

“[Y/N], baby, I’m sorry I got you sick. I shouldn’t have let you get so close to me and love up on me. If I had known it was so contagious I would’ve taken care of myself.” Harry apologized, his eyes lowering, finding your hand under all the sheets and giving it a caring caress. 

“It’s not your fault. I wanted to take care of you. I always want to...love up on you,” You remarked, laughing at his previous choice of wording, “I couldn’t let you be sick and not do anything. I care about you.”

Harry’s eyes found yours again, his lips upturning into a wide smile as he looked at your lovingly.

“You really love me that much, huh?” He questioned, bringing your clammy palm to his lips for a ginger kiss.

“That much and more,” You returned with a smirk, “Now shut up and get in bed with me. I need cuddles.”

Harry leapt up from the side of the bed, rushing to the empty, opposite side.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, crawling in and pulling you flush to his chest.

He winced at how warm you still were, but he was sure that the fever would subside with time. Harry’s paranoia had subsided almost completely, but he still kept a hand on your back to make sure you were breathing...just in case. He’d cater to your every need to make sure you’d be better soon. You’d be back to normal in no time with Harry Potter as your caretaker.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Harry. I really appreciate it.” You sniffed, beginning to feel drowsy as your body fought off the horrid sickness.

Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead, keeping you safe and comfortable in his arms. It was something he would do until forever ran out...with or without a bad case of the flu.

“I’ll always take care of you. No matter what.”

******

Tags: @writingscape @lupinsslut @msmimimerton @thefilmcity

[willwriteforhugs]

just a sniffle!- hwang hyunjin

boyfriend! hyunjin x reader- one shot !

word count: 1.6k

genre: fluff, domestic scenario

synopsis: after your boyfriend comes home from a long day, you swear you can detect a scratch in his throat... but he insists he’s fine. fast forward 12 hours, and hyunjin is practically bed-ridden with fever. and now what...

warnings: sickness/a high fever (obviously), minor cursing

a/n: this prompt was requested by an anon!! i hope i didn’t take too long to put this out- it takes me forever to edit when the fic in question is a request, because i just want it to be perfect :’) anyways, to my lovely anon: thank you for the request, and i hope you enjoy!

- - -

earlier, when hyunjin had told you he’d be able to get off early, you’d been over the moon- it was a rare occurrence, after all. your boyfriend has- as many idols do- an extremely hectic schedule, with practices often going late into the night. so when he’d said the two of you would be able to spend the evening together, it had taken all your self-control not to start cheering right then and there. but you had managed to stay calm- and still devise a thorough, detailed plan of how the night would go.

you would make dinner, and it would be ready by the time hyunjin got to your place- because who doesn’t love being welcomed by a warm meal? then, after you eat, hyunjin can run and get cleaned up while you do dishes. when that’s all done, the two of you can get down to business by binge watching all the drama episodes you’d missed. (you never watched them without him, even though you usually fall way behind in the show, due to his lack of free time. he insists that you shouldn’t wait- but you love to watch them with him, so you always let them pile up...)

now, in the moment, you scurry aimlessly about your apartment. dinner is ready, waiting to be served in the kitchen, so you walk around your front room. you know that everything is clean- this is the fourth time you’ve checked. but still, this isn’t an everyday thing, and you want the place to be tidy for your boyfriend. (you also know he doesn’t really care all that much- but it’s the thought that counts, right?)

your train of thoughts ends abruptly when a knock sounds from the front door. already smiling, you rush to answer it- and sure enough, there he is.

hyunjin stands in your front entryway, tilting his head as he looks at you. a smile toys at his lips, and he extends an arm. fighting your own glee, you lean into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent.

“hey,” you say into his chest. he hums in reply, and you stand there for a moment, simply appreciating each other. after a beat has passed, you speak up again. “let’s go inside.”

the two of you enter, hyunjin closing the door behind him. he’s wearing a casual outfit, made up of just black sweats and a hat. you assume he’s already showered, too, because, well- you won’t lie- he usually doesn’t smell that great after a long practice. but he seems clean, and all for the better- that just means the schedule gets sped up, and more time for the two of you! 

as he usually does, your boyfriend wanders into your bedroom to set down his things, not lingering. he meets you back in the kitchen as you begin to serve the food. you see him smile at the spread, and finally he speaks: “wow, babe. that’s a lot of food.”

at the sound of his voice, you start a bit. it’s much lower than usual, and you detect a bit of scratchiness in it. without looking up, you make your inquiry: “are you feeling well? you sound a bit froggy.”

hyunjin snorts at your description. “froggy? you really are something...”

you smile, bringing two servings of food to the table. as you begin to eat, the two of you settle into comfortable silence. 

as the meal continues, though, you feel yourself begin to frown. despite his obvious attempts to hide it, hyunjin seems to be having trouble swallowing his food. with every bite, you see your boyfriend flinch just a bit. 

not being able to take it any longer, you set your chopsticks down. “really, hyunjin-ah. you don’t seem well, are you getting a cold?”

your boyfriend makes a mocking pouty face at you. clearing his throat, he responds: “i’m fine, y/n. i really am, so don’t baby me.”

you give a half hearted glare. “fine. but if you wake up tomorrow feeling like shit, don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

- - -

you had been right, of course.

and, for the record, you had warned him.

it’s 6:48 in the morning, and both of you were awake. you lean over in bed, switching on the light. laying in a pathetic lump on your other side, hyunjin groans loudly. you turn back around to face him. “hyunjin-ah, seriously. let me feel your head, you’ve been coughing all night!”

the lump that happens to be your boyfriend shifts to face you in bed. you frown once you can seem him clearly- his face is red, and his eyes are watery from the coughing. you place your own cool palm on his forehead, and almost jerk back in surprise. “babe, you’re burning up!”

flinging your blankets away, you spring out of bed. “hyunjin!” you groan. “i knew you sounded off, why wouldn’t you say anything?”

he coughs again, finally managing to clear his throat. in his raspy voice, he manages: “i didn’t want to ruin your night. i knew you were excited.”

you sigh, knowing the feeling, and hating the understanding. hyunjin was overworked, truly. he shouldn’t have felt the need to lie just to spend time with you, no matter how excited you were...

“c’mon.” you say nudging him in the hips. “sit up, i’ll get you some painkillers and water. are you hungry?”

he grunts in response. when you don’t move, he finally mutters into his pillow: “i don’t know.”

a smile tugs at your lips at this. “that’s alright. i’ll get you a bit anyways.”

you know that hyunjin’s dramatics are probably a conductor to this situation, but a tiny part of you is excited at this opportunity to spoil him, even if it’s at his expense. 

in the kitchen, you dig around for the promised medicine and some snacks, then pour a glass of water.

when you re enter your bedroom, you see hyunjin has managed to sit up. his tall figure is slumped as he leans against the headboard of your bed. nonetheless, he smiles as you enter the room. “you’re so pretty in the mornings,” he mumbles.

you gently smack his head as you set down the water glass. “oh, shut up. at least take the meds first so you’ll be able to defend yourself later on.”

at this, he chuckles- but the joy quickly dissipates as the laugh turns into a pained cough. you use your palm to rub circles over his back as he regains his breath. the fit passes, but the tension in the air doesn’t. 

in perfect unison, the two of you sigh.

hyunjin breaks the silence. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i should have just told you i wasn’t feeling well last night... maybe we could have caught it before it got this bad.”

you give him a bittersweet smile. “your pride can be a weakness, my love.”

at this, hyunin puts his hand to his chest in fake shock. “i can’t believe you’d say such things to me. and while i’m ill!”

“it’s just a cold, your highness. take the tylenol and see how that helps.” you pause, knowing that he is probably in more pain than he’s letting on- you can tell because he was covering it with humor, something he rarely does. “do you- do you want a washcloth or something? an ice pack?”

your boyfriend’s expression is warm. his voice is still uneven, and he responds in an almost whisper: “is that alright?”

your heart stutters at his demeanor. “yes, that’s alright.”

when you return with the cold washcloth, hyunjin has slid down a bit- now only half sitting up. his eyes are closed, though you suspect he isn’t asleep, at least not fully. but you can tell he’s exhausted from being up all night with his sneezing and coughing... maybe he really is asleep...

you make your way to him, and pause to admire his peaceful face. he truly is beautiful... you reach over and gently sweep his long hair away from his forehead, allowing your fingers to linger. he’s still very warm to the touch, and you can’t help but worry for him. after a moment, you swap your hand for the washcloth, draping it gently across his already damp forehead. 

you aren’t really sure how to properly care for a sick person, but a cold compress seems to be what all the dramas suggest. so you sit back down and hope for the best. 

a few minutes pass- hyunjin breathing peacefully in the bed, and you in a nearby chair watching him. suddenly, your counterpart’s eyes flicker open, deep brown eyes meeting your own. “y/n-ah?” he rasps.

you almost launch out of your chair. “yes? are you alright?”

hyunjin gives a half-hearted snort as his eyes drift shut again. he continues to speak without seeing you. “i’m fine. but- will- do you mind sitting with me? over here?”

you stare at him for a moment, processing. then you smile. “yeah, i can do that. as long as you don’t get me sick.”

“no promises.”

and with that, you crawl back into bed with hyunjin, his back to you. you scoot up a bit, positioning yourself so you can hug him from behind. you’ve never been the big spoon before- but honestly? you love it, and you bury your face in between his shoulder blades, filled with an overwhelming rush of affection.

“y/n?” comes hyunjin’s voice again, very quietly.

you don’t move, answering into his back. “yes?”

“i love you.” 

and with that, hyunjin slips back into sleep, this time nestled in your arms.

[faulty-writes]

Me: sees thine holy writing: (°▽°)

Sees that you write lots for tenya: (^○^)

Me remembering that I’m a tenya simp: (*ﾟ∀ﾟ*)

Haha, something to cheer you day up ^-^

But can you write the most fluffiest fanfic for iida? Much thank

A fluffy fic you say? Well, this is what I present to you! Mainly inspired by this gif, interesting what gives you inspiration. But I hope you enjoy this, I tried to make it fluffy.

[ Tenya was normally attentive to those that needed it, however when you get a cut on your finger and Tenya insists he patch it up for you. Things get a little strange when you request a few more things from him. ]

A cough escapes as the dirt continues to float around you, your hero suit was covered in debris and a soft ache coursed through your shoulder. More than likely because you landed on it when you tried to outmaneuver the turbo hero, Ingenium.

But, most of the time you knew him as Tenya Iida. Class A had come to a mutual agreement to take part in extra training and had been granted permission to use Ground Omega by your teacher Shota Aizawa, but it seemed the training backfired.

“Y/n!” Tenya’s urgent voice came as you cradled your hand to your chest, but you held your index finger out. A bloody cut, about an inch or so, ran down the tip of your finger. Small droplets of red soaked into the ground below you and moments later, you felt a gust of wind.

It carried your hair and another cloud of dirt which made you turn your head and cough yet again. “Ah,” Tenya looked at you from behind the eyepiece of his helmet before he removed it completely, deciding to allow it to hang from the side of his hip instead.

His glasses were slightly tilted on the bridge of his nose, but that didn’t stop him from scanning you from head to toe. His arms were held up and bent slightly, fingers separated in a panic. Then a moment later, he dropped to his knees and began chopping his hand through the air.

“Y/n! Are you alright? My sincerest apologies!” his voice was slightly frantic as he begins to bow repeatedly and you couldn’t do much but look at him with slight amusement. Tenya always took things too seriously and it was humorous, but most of the time unnecessary.

It wasn’t right to expect one person to carry the consequence of other's actions or even their own, to some extent. But Tenya seemed to feel guilt over the smallest of things, including what had gone wrong during the training exercise and, “Y/n! Your finger!” Uraraka’s voice suddenly cut through the air.

“Huh?” you blinked and turned to look at her, Izuku was by her side and Eijirou next to him. “Hey, uh...do you need to see Recovery Girl?” the redhead questioned before letting out a wince as Katsuki smacked him in the back of the head.

“Shut the hell up!” the furious blond exclaimed before stomping his foot and placing his gloved hands on his hips. He turned to you, eyes narrowing on your finger. “Pff,” he then turned to walk away, “the extra is fine! Now come on! We’re here to train, damn it!” he growled through clenched teeth before using his quirk to blast off the ground.

“Hey wait!” Eijirou called after him, raising one of his hands in the air as if he could touch Katsuki before he stopped short. “Uh,” he looked between you, Tenya, Izuku, and Uraraka. “Sorry! I’ll catch you all later!” he said before he resumed running out of sight.

Uraraka frowned and turned to Izuku who stepped forward as Tenya focused his attention back on you. A gasp came when he noticed the state of your finger, “Y/n, may I…” he hesitated as he motioned to your hand. “Oh,” you looked at your cut before nodding and holding it out for him.

He grasped your wrist gently and was careful to avoid touching the cut as he held your finger between two of his own. “Hm, I see,” he released your hand and reached up to push his glasses back into place before standing on his feet.

“Midoriya, Ochako,” he said, effectively catching their attention. “I’m going to take Y/n back to the dormitory building, their cut doesn’t look too serious. However, I’d rather take precautionary measures to ensure it does not become infected or is otherwise untreated,” he placed his hands on his hips.

“Is that acceptable to the two of you?” he questioned and Izuku nodded. “Of course, it is! You’re such a good friend Iida, take care of them well!” Uraraka said with a smile. “Yeah, and it’s alright i-if...you don’t make it back to training. It’s only...practice after all,” Izuku confirmed before he looked at you.

“If you um, ever want to practice training again. I’m sure we can organize something,” he said and you smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied before watching the two of them walk away. “Iida, you don’t have to take care of my cut,” you knew that was rude to say considering Tenya seemed stern in his new objective to do exactly that.

You didn't bother looking at him, or his reaction to your words. Rather your attention was on the red liquid that still poured from the cut. “Forgive me, but I disagree.” he crossed his arms over his chest, a present frown now on his lips.

“It is my fault that you got injured, though be it a small cut. I take full responsibility and I will make this fault up to you,” he spoke proudly and his voice slightly deepened which caused a shiver to run down your spine. You glanced away hoping to hide your flushed expression.

There was always something about Tenya when he spoke in a certain tone, maybe you found it attractive. But you’d never tell him that. “Please allow me to carry you,” your head shot back in his direction. “W-What?” you questioned, clearly dumbfounded especially when you saw him smile.

Once more, he brought his hand up. Pressing his fingers against the metal plate of his suit. “Forgive me, perhaps that question is rather shocking and inappropriate without proper permission, allow me to make my intentions clear,” he said before bringing his hands to his sides.

“Will you please allow me permission to carry you to the Class A dormitory building?” he asked, his voice deepening once more and you felt your mouth get slightly dry. “Uh…” you swallowed hard, “I guess...you can,” you replied sheepishly and that’s all the confirmation Tenya needed.

Before you could register what was happening, you felt one arm brace the back of your knees and another pressing firmly across your shoulder blades. A squeak escaped when you realized you were being lifted and your arms snaked around Tenya’s neck, taking a firm grip.

“Apologies, I do not mean to frighten you. But please know, I would never drop nor purposely hurt you. You are safe within my arms,” he stated as he looked at you. “Hm!?” your reaction wasn’t exactly voluntary and neither was the pink-tinted color coming to your cheeks which Tenya noticed.

“Are you alright? Do you feel ill!?” he questioned in a frantic manner, leaning dangerously close to you. “I...I-I’m fine!” you managed to squeak out which caused Tenya to narrow his eyes. “Are you certa-” you interrupted him by nodding your head, but you knew he didn’t believe you.

Still, you were relieved when he finally leaned away. Giving you a chance to breathe, the dull ache from your finger somewhat brings you back to reality along with the rumbling sound of Tenya’s engines. “Please hold on tight, I will not drop you as your safety is my number one concern as of this moment,” he reassured you, completely oblivious to the fact he was making your heart race.

But that changed the moment he kicked off the ground and your world blurred. The wind felt as though it were piercing right through you and your hair whipped around violently. It was a little pathetic, but you found yourself curling into Tenya.

Partly trying to block the wind from affecting you while your stomach continued to twist slightly, unused to the high speeds Tenya could reach. While it felt like moments had passed by, in a matter of seconds you were closing in on the dormitory building.

The wind got less intense as Tenya slowed down and you lifted your head to look at him, listening to those soft pants that left his mouth. “Tenya…?” you questioned, and watched as he turned his attention on you.

“Hm, yes?” he responded, those soft pants of his continuing to fill the air. “Oh...um nothing,” you said before deciding to focus on the front porch of the dormitory instead. But, you should have known better. ‘Nothing’ wasn’t an answer that could or would satisfy Tenya.

“Are you most certain? You do not have to be afraid to ask a question even if the subject of which concerns me, you, or something unrelated," he began, once more dropping down to that serious tone of his.

"I am more than happy to provide an answer as your classmate, class president, and dear friend,” you felt your heart sink as he began to slowly walk up the stairs, and with each step, you could feel the pressure of his fingertips digging into the skin of your shoulder.

“I know…” you replied as you pressed your hand to his chest, feeling how warm the metal had gotten due to his run. It made you wonder if Tenya was sweating on the inside of his hero suit or if he had some type of cooling system similar to the ones in his boots that prevented his engines from overheating.

“Just...thank you,” the words came out in a shy whisper just before you glanced away. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me, it’s only a little cut,” you reminded him, but Tenya shook his head.

“I am afraid you got harmed as a direct result of my poorly timed actions, perhaps I was not fully comprehending or registering them during our training. But such behavior is unbefitting of a hero, especially toward someone they care deeply for," he said as he turned back to look at you, eyebrows slanted in another serious expression.

You parted your lips slightly, letting out a soft almost inaudible noise as he continued to speak. "In addition, as I stated earlier. I will do what I must to right this fault I have committed,” those subtle noises now turned into a defeated sigh.

Tenya was admirable in some sense of the word but once more you found yourself wishing he wasn't so serious. Your thoughts were broken as he walked through the door and the eerie silence of the dorm came to attention. It was strange to see the place empty.

“I am going to take you to the restroom, does that sound acceptable?” he questioned and you jumped in his arms. “Uh…” a moment of hesitation came before you shook your head. “Oh, I mean! Uh, t-that’s fine!” you replied and yet again got a strange look from Tenya.

“Are you most certain you are well?” you latched onto your bottom lip, cursing yourself for your rather stupid response. But, you nodded. “Y-Yeah! Fine...just not used to being carried,” your explanation was accompanied by an awkward laugh that almost made you want to smack yourself in the face.

Especially as Tenya raised his eyebrow yet again which caused you to latch onto your bottom lip, silencing your laugh. “S-Sorry,” you replied before focusing your attention down the hall where Tenya took another turn before he came to a stop in front of the restroom door.

Despite the fact the dormitory was empty, Tenya carefully balanced you in his arms before he extended one hand out and knocked. Once he was sure the restroom was actually and truly empty, he slid the door open and stepped inside.

“Here we are,” he said as he slowly placed you onto the toilet. Ensuring the lid was down first as he didn’t want another uncomfortable or awkward situation to occur, much less put you in harm's way again.

“Forgive me, but may I excuse myself for a short moment? I wish to change into something more appropriate. I shall only be gone for five minutes,” he explained, yet again bowing as he rambled off. Your hands reached down, clenching to the outside of the toilet seat. You were mindful of your cut finger.

“Uh, sure Iida. N-No problem!” you said, knowing your cheeks were still warm and continuing to rise in heat. You tried taking a deep breath but ended up coughing a few times and tried to play it off by glancing around the bathroom.

Maybe if you distract your thoughts away from Tenya, you'd remain calm. But Tenya seemed rather confused by the fact you coughed and reached up to cup his chin, tapping it a few times as he observed you. He wanted to ask if you were alright, but perhaps you were still getting over the shock of what happened.

"Thank you, please remain here." he bowed politely before exiting the bathroom, leaving you alone for a few minutes. You fidgeted some and ran your hands up and down your thighs. Trying to get rid of the butterflies in your stomach before you glanced at your finger. It didn't look too bad, apart from the dried blood.

You may have gotten too lost in your thoughts considering you jumped when three loud knocks sounded, your hand immediately reached up to fist into the front of your hero suit. “Y/n,” came Tenya’s voice, “may I come in?” he questioned and you dropped your hand. But your heart was still racing from the small scare.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied and watched as the door slid open and Tenya walked in. You swallowed as you glanced over him from head to toe. He was now wearing a plain white top with an unbuttoned long-sleeved blue plaid shirt over it.

This was accompanied by loose jeans that were neatly folded up at his ankles. “Is something wrong?” he questioned, more than likely realizing that you were staring at him. “Ah! Oh no, no!” you said, waving your arms in front of you like mad.

“I just...um…” you paused and looked down, trying to figure out what you could possibly say. You reached up, rubbing the back of your head. “You l-look very nice!” you managed to stutter out which, in turn, surprised Tenya.

He took a half step back and his cheeks grew a faint red color. “Oh, I see. Thank you very much,” he stated, hands coming down press against the sides of his thighs and his shoulders squared. He gave another bow before he approached you, carefully kneeling down but not allowing himself to touch the floor.

Then he held his hand out, “May I see your injured finger?” he questioned and you stared at that awaiting hand before slowly reaching out for it. His touch was gentle but that firm urgency was still there as he looked over the cut and the small amount of dried blood that had stained your hand.

“Please wait a moment,” he said as he gently placed your hand back down, resting it against your thigh. You watched as he rose to his feet and walked to the nearby closet where he grabbed three hand towels. “I believe we need to properly clean your hand first,” he said just before turning on the faucet.

The sound of water hitting the porcelain surface echoed through the room and caused you to shift on the toilet seat. You watched as Tenya began to wash his hands before using one of the three towels to dry them off. He then tossed it into the nearby laundry basket, you watched as he wet another hand towel and turned to you.

Once more he kneeled in front of you and presented his hand which you took. “Please accept my apologies once again, and forgive my assumptions. But I believe you are uncomfortable in your current state," he said, referring to the fact you were still covered in dirt and there were some rips that now needed to be repaired on your hero suit.

He began to clean your hand, dripping a fair amount of water everywhere as he started with your knuckles and palm. You could see the dark smears of dirt against the white-colored towel and tensed up when Tenya took your finger.

Making sure he was using a clean part of the towel as he wiped the cut and dried blood away. He only paused for a moment to glance at you. “Forgive me, is it tender?” he questioned before his attention turned back to your finger.

The cut itself looked deep and irritated, the skin around the opening bright red and slightly inflamed. “Only when you touch it,” you responded. “I will be more gentle,” he promised before once again getting up.

He tossed the dirty towel into the laundry basket before washing his hands yet again and grabbed the last towel which he used to dry your hand off as opposed to his own. “I’m going to clean it properly now,” he stated before disposing of the last towel and turned back to the closet.

You could hear the slight rummaging sound, and soft clinks as Tenya pulled out the items one by one. A bag of cotton balls, a box of bandaids, disinfectant, and a single packet of antibacterial gel were now laid across the bathroom counter.

You blinked, “Iida, do you...really need all that to clean my cut?” you questioned and Tenya raised his eyebrow as he glanced over each item. He then brought his hand up to his chin, cupping it as he thought.

“Do you believe I missed something perhaps?” he questioned and you couldn’t help but chuckle which caught Tenya’s attention. “Pardon? Did I say something amusing?” you leaned back. “Oh,” that’s right, Tenya didn’t favor when others laughed at him or at least when he believed they were laughing at him.

“No, I...just wanted to say thank you, Iida,” it was best not to provoke him. Despite knowing that it would take more than a laugh or insult to break his serious and otherwise calm personality. Still, you didn't feel like starting an argument or confrontation with him.

“You’re quite welcome, however, I do not believe you should be giving me any form of thanks,” he said as he pulled out a cotton ball and proceeded to wet it with the disinfectant. “This may cause an uncomfortable stinging sensation," he said as he turned to you, the cotton ball held securely between his thumb and index finger.

"Please let me know if it becomes too much. I would not want to cause any further harm to you,” he said as he once again took your hand and began to gently dab the wounded area with the cotton ball. You watched as it fizzled and popped before a white foam began to fill the cut.

You clenched your jaw, it stung somewhat. But it wasn’t anything that could make you cry out. “It...doesn’t hurt that bad,” you responded and Tenya glanced at you, allowing a moment to pass before he nodded.

Then he turned his attention back to your finger, applying pressure to the cotton ball before dragging it along the length of the cut. “It only seems minorly irritated,” he noted before he got up once more and threw the dirty cotton ball into the trash.

He then carefully grabbed the small packet of antibacterial gel and poured a small amount onto a new cotton ball. “Please keep still,” you held your breath as he rubbed the gel around your cut, it was almost attractive watching Tenya like this.

But, he always had a tendency to be very caring. At least with those he considered to be close with. You wondered for a moment if that’s the only thing he saw you as or if there was any chance you could somehow make him see you in a different light.

Once he threw the last cotton ball away, he grabbed a bandaid and carefully unwrapped it. “Hold your finger out please,” he instructed and of course, you followed through. Extending your index finger out enough for him to carefully wrap the bandage around it.

“I believe that’s on correctly, does it feel too restrictive?” he questioned and you spread your fingers as you looked at the bandaid. You flexed your finger, making sure you could move it properly before you nodded.

“It’s fine Tenya…” you then looked over at the box of bandaids, “but…” you paused. “But?” Tenya questioned, pushing you to complete your sentence. “Are you unsatisfied?” he questioned as he stepped closer to you, invading your space.

You latched onto your lip, trying not to make a noise as Tenya leaned over. “Uh…” your breath hitched as his hand came to rest on your shoulder and he appeared to be looking you over. “Do you have any other injuries on your person I am not aware of?” he questioned.

“Pardon my touch,” he said before you felt his hand thread into your hair. You swallowed before leaning away, somewhat in a panic which was evident enough by the way you held your hands up. “N-No!” you suddenly exclaimed and Tenya immediately stepped back, creating a fair amount of distance between himself and you.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, I did not mean to invade your personal space, and I-” you shook your head, stumbling to your feet. “I-Iida!” you stuttered out, “I was...I was just going to say that…” you blinked and lowered your hands to your sides.

Your gaze was to the floor and you knew he would notice how red your cheeks were. “Hm?” he reached up to grab the left side of his glasses, moving them slightly as if trying to correct his vision. “Then nothing is wrong?” you almost felt bad for confusing him and closed your eyes.

Another deep breath came before you spoke again, “I...just wanted another one,” you sheepishly said and lifted your head as you opened your eyes, catching Tenya’s confused expression. “I...I’m afraid I do not understand, you required one bandage for your cut,” he said as he raised his arm.

“Are you most certain you do not have another injury? I will not be angered if you state that you, in fact, do and require more medical attention!” you stepped back and watched him chop that hand through the air. It was such a repetitive movement.

But Tenya did it with ease, you wondered if his arm ever got sore. “Well, I…” you turned your head, once again looking away from the boy in front of you. “I would...feel better if I had another one,” you explained and Tenya blinked, his movements coming to a halt.

“I….are you certain it would make you feel better?” he questioned before you shyly glanced back at him, but remained silent as you nodded. Tenya’s eyebrows came down and you could hear a soft humming coming from the inside of his throat.

“Heh,” you gave a sheepish smile, maybe he was thinking too hard again? You slowly raised your hand, extending your bandaged finger out to him. “Hm?” such an action seemed to have caught his attention, but he was unsure of what he was supposed to do.

“Are...may I ask why you feel the need to present your finger?” he asked and you knew that there was a possibility of rejection or for Tenya to laugh at you for what you were about to ask next. “Well, a-actually can you…” the words you wanted to speak seemed stuck and Tenya stepped closer, reaching out to gently take your hand.

“Please, do not be afraid to ask me anything," he seemed to be repeating himself again. "I assure you, I would not find something you wish to say or ask to be humorous in any matter,” once more that deep tone was associated with his voice and it caused you to shiver.

You felt your mouth go dry, though you knew you could trust Tenya to keep his word. “O-Okay,” you said, though you knew your shaky voice held some uncertainty to it. “Would you...or c-can you...kiss it?” you questioned and almost immediately you felt him release your hand.

More than likely surprised by your bold question. “I...f-forgive me, I believe I must have misheard you. Please repeat your question,” you took note of Tenya’s wide eyes, clenched jaw, and overall unwillingness to go through with what you asked.

But you knew you’d never get anywhere if you didn’t push through the limitations in front of you. “I asked…” you began as you took a step forward, now standing only inches away from Tenya. You raised your hand to present your finger once more.

“Could you kiss my finger?” Tenya’s stiff posture seemed to soften, but you noticed how flushed he was. “I...I do not understand, I have taken the proper steps to clean it and you assured me you weren’t in any pain an-” you frowned before deciding to shove your hand in his face.

“Please Iida,” you might as well try begging. “I know you cleaned it and everything, but a kiss would make it feel better too,” you insisted and took note of the soft revving sound, more than likely coming from Tenya’s engines. Was he nervous? It certainly seemed that way, especially with how he stuttered out his response.

“I uh...I am afraid that’s too i-inappropriate and I do not b-believe even if this was a-appropriate in the context that would allow such an affectionate or o-otherwise romantic f-form of action t-that I would know h-how to-” you pressed your bandaged finger against his lips and tried to resist chuckling as you watched him tremble in response.

It was a surprise that his glasses weren’t fogging up with how deep red his cheeks were beginning to get. “It’s not inappropriate Iida,” you tried to reassure him. “It’s something that brings a lot of people comfort. It’s more of the thought behind the action. So please?” you questioned yet again as you removed your finger from his lips and held it out in hopes he’d follow through with doing what you wanted.

But you took note of how his eyebrows were slanted, and the way he looked at your finger as if it was something new and foreign to him. Actually, had Tenya ever done something like this before? Had he kissed anyone or anything?

You knew it wasn’t your place to ask, but you got a little concerned when you glanced down and watched as Tenya’s hands folded into loose fights which shook slightly. Then he brought those hands up, his palms facing out. His head was turned and his eyes slipped closed, he looked tense.

“If you continue to insist that you will feel better if I were to ‘kiss’ your finger. Then perhaps I have no choice,” he said, and you could tell he was a little annoyed as he lowered his hands and turned his head to face you once more.

But a sense of relief came when Tenya opened his eyes and reached up to gently take your hand. Then, he leaned forward. “I will try to be gentle, I can imagine your finger is still sore. Yes?” he questioned, but you were too busy watching as he guided your finger up to his mouth.

Then came the soft warmth of his lips which caused a tingle to course from the tip of your finger to the top of your head and down to the end of your toes. The faint echo of your pounding heart sounded in your ears and much like Tenya, you felt your cheeks heat up.

They were a dark shade of pink by the time Tenya pulled away. “I...trust your finger feels better now, yes?” he questioned and you swallowed, taking note of how his glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“Uh...y-yeah...but,” you glanced back to the sink counter, “c-can I have another?” Tenya blinked. “A-Another? But I just followed through with kissing your finger as you requested and-” you shook your head. “No I mean...can I have another bandaid now?” you questioned as you pointed to the box that remained sitting on the counter.

Tenya frowned and gently released your hand before crossing his arms, “I believe one is quite enough for you,” he stated and you knew by his tone that you shouldn’t try to argue. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t. “Please?” you folded your hands together to resemble a begging position.

“Just one more!” he let out a soft growl. “I do not wish to waste the bandaids as our classmates might be in need of them as well,” he said before he reached over to take the box. “Come on Iida,” you decided to press as he turned to put the box of bandages back into the closet.

But, you reached out to grab his shoulder and a loud sigh came. The angry look he gave somewhat scared you, it was a rare sight to see Tenya scowl. “If you continue to insist yet again that this item is something that you need to feel better,” he began, “I will allow it for this one instance,” he said as he placed the bandages back onto the counter.

“But this is the last bandage, do you understand?” he said as he pulled one out, holding it between his fingers as he gave you a soft glare. “Uh…” you felt your stomach twist before you nodded. “Yeah, I understand,” you replied before Tenya began to peel back the paper that surrounded the bandage.

“Where would you like me to place this one?” he questioned, “Oh!” you hadn’t thought of that and quickly looked at your hand. “How about…” you held your hand in front of him, wiggling your ring finger. “Very well…” Tenya said as he stepped forward and yet again, wrapped a bandage around your finger.

You couldn’t help but smile as he turned to throw the excess paper away. “Thank you, Iida,” you said before looking at the box and quickly snatched another bandage out of it. You peeled off the outer wrapping and carelessly allowed it to fall to the floor.

“Hm?” Tenya glanced over his shoulder at you, almost suspiciously and you hid the bandage behind your back in hopes it would deter that suspicious glance of his. It seemed to fool him for the moment and he once more walked over to you.

It was almost embarrassing how tall Tenya was in comparison to yourself, but he was one of the tallest in your class. But at the same time, it was heartwarming. You know many outsiders could be intimidated by Tenya, but once you got to know him.

You’d find that he had a soft and caring side to him which was often perfectly balanced with his more serious and heroic side. Everything he did seemed to be with purpose and in a way that was admirable. “Allow me to walk you to your room,” he offered his arm for you to take and you glanced at.

“Actually Iida...um...I have something to tell you,” your fingers grazed across the bandage you held behind your back. “Hm?” he raised his eyebrow, “Of course, I assure you I am the most attentive listener,” you smiled, that’s kind of what you hoped for. You raised your free hand, using your finger to motion him to lean over.

He seemed confused at first but leaned down to your height as you wanted. You then brought your other hand forward, quickly peeling back the strips that covered the bottom side of the bandage. “Y/n!” Tenya exclaimed as if you committed some unforgivable sin, then came his hand.

Once more chopping through the air with urgency. “I believe I stated that I did not wish to waste any more bandages that are otherwise unnecessary!” you expected as much from Tenya and there was one thing you could do to stop him.

“Mm!” he suddenly flinched back when he realized the bandage you were previously holding was now placed over his lips. “Mmmm!” he mumbled, bringing his hands up to remove it but you quickly grabbed them which caused his eyes to widen.

You then offered a kind smile, though a few chuckles accompanied it before you leaned close. Pressing your lips against his mouth. Though that bandage did separate you from actually kissing his lips. But Tenya looked surprised, downright thrown off by your actions.

You knew there were countless thoughts running through his head, especially as you stepped away and proceeded to bow politely. “Thank you for saving me, Iida.” you grinned as you walked past him, taking some amusement in his flushed and furiously confused expression.

[tigerdrop]

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so  hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog.  he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Soulmarks, Part 15

First part

Previous

Gotta take a break for exams. I’ll probably still update every once in a while, but I probably won’t be fully back until the 10th. <3

~~~

She fell to her knees, clutching her head.

“Inamovibi-Lady, I am Hawkmoth.”

She needed to shut down. Why couldn’t she? She’d definitely hit her max. Her breath came out in shallow gasps, her eyes stung with tears. Why was she still feeling? Why couldn’t she stop? God, she wanted to stop --!

“The world is a cruel place, but only to people who don’t deserve it. Tragedy only befalls the best of people, and the wicked live without consequences.”

She couldn’t give in. Paris needed her. Any damage she did while she was akumatized would remain. She needed to summon a lucky charm. Her eyes found their way to her yoyo. Should she try and make a lucky charm at risk of being akumatized with it?

No. They would need the yoyo to purify the akuma. 

Hopefully she wouldn’t cause too much damage.

“I am giving you the power to finally make them pay for what they’ve done.”

She needed to say no. No one had ever managed it before, but she had to do it. It was her responsibility. She couldn’t get akumatized. She couldn’t. She couldn’t let Paris down.

“They will finally see justice, all you need to do is give me the ladybug and cat miraculi.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. She could hear Adrien running away and had to hope that Tim was with him.

She couldn’t let them down.

“All you have to do is say yes.”

Her fingers dug into her scalp.

Just.

Say.

No.

“Yes, Hawkmoth.”

~

He cursed as he skid across the grass, tugging at the yoyo string as he attempted to free himself. The last time he’d been tied up like this hadn’t gone well, and he wasn’t eager for a repeat.

Adrien stood next to Marinette for a second, a shocked expression on his face as she fell to the floor.

“HEY! HELP!” Yelled Tim.

He snapped out of it and ran over. He tried to untie him for a second, then seemed to decide that it was a problem for later as Marinette was engulfed in purple and black smoke. He threw Tim over his shoulder and started running.

They had only gotten a block away before she walked out. Was that even her? Sure, she was still in her Ladybug outfit, but…

Her skin was bleached so pale that it shone in the moonlight, and a wide smile made up half of her face. She swung a giant judge’s gavel. He tensed at just how much the akuma reminded him of a mix of Joker and Harley.

Adrien glanced over his shoulder and picked up speed.

And then Tim watched her swing the gavel in a large arc. It morphed into a yoyo. Her smile stretched ever wider.

Her yoyo hooked around a lamppost nearby and she practically flew to them. Her yoyo detached itself midair and she did a flip that would have made Dick proud as she landed in front of them, a microphone now in hand.

Adrien skid to a stop.

“Hello!” She said without moving her mouth. Her voice boomed through Paris’s streets and people began to poke their heads out of windows. She looked around, her black eyes glittering like beetles, and started talking again when she apparently decided there was enough of an audience: “Don’t you know missing a court date is enough to get arrested?”

“I’m not French, so no,” said Tim awkwardly as Adrien set him on his feet to start detangling himself.

“True! I’ll give you a pardon for that, then. The crimes you were originally going to be tried for, though, I’m afraid can’t be ignored.”

Adrien sighed lightly as he pulled out his baton. “I don’t want to fight you, Nette --.”

“My name is Inamovibi-Lady, thank you.” She twirled the microphone in her hand and it stretched back into her original gavel. “Anyways, your crimes were that you never brought yourself to believe me, even when the truth was right in front of you.”

“I know your defenses, so I’ll tell them to everyone for you. Cheval didn’t listen because he thought I was too good to be true and Chat didn’t want to believe ill of his family.” She gave a fake sniffle and rubbed under her eyes like she was wiping away tears. “Enough to bring a tear to my eyes. If I could cry, of course.”

“But your personal issues don’t give you a warrant to push all your problems on me. Trust me, I’m a judge. I know all about warrants.”

Tim finally managed to get himself out and the yoyo hit the floor at his feet. He could breathe properly again, thank god.

But then she stepped closer, her gavel poised for a hit, and he seemed to forget how to breathe.

“So, your sentence is to live your lives through without anyone ever believing anything you say ever again! Good luck, darlings!”

Adrien brought his baton up to keep her from hitting them, but it seemed they weren’t quite her target. She slammed her gavel on the ground at their feet. A red circle stretched around them and they were engulfed in bright red light. He brought his hands to his eyes as the light threatened to blind him, and when he’d finally managed to open them again she was gone.

Fuck.

~

They tore through the streets, looking around for Inamovibi-Lady, but she’d completely disappeared.

“Right, her targets are definitely Hawkmoth and Lila.”

“Says who?” Said Adrien, raising his eyebrows. “She can’t fight Hawkmoth without getting deakumatized and Lila has nothing to do with what we did.”

Tim snorted. Really? Like getting deakumatized would stop Marinette from beating up a terrorist and Lila definitely had something to do with his half of the sentence. “Even if you were right, which you’re not, we’d be stupid not to check up on them.”

Adrien rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’d be wasting our time.”

“This conversation is wasting our time,” hissed Tim, before pressing a hand to his comm. “Hey, we have a problem in France. Ladybug got akumatized.”

“Yeah, now they’re an evil judge,” said Adrien.

Dick had the audacity to laugh. “Marinette? Akumatized? An evil judge? Funny joke, guys.”

“Yeah, she’d never let that happen,” agreed Barbara.

He groaned and let his hand fall back to his side. This was definitely going to be more of a problem than he’d originally thought. No wonder Inamovibi-Lady felt comfortable leaving them to go and enact her revenge. What could they really do? There was no way they could ask for help and even talking to each other was a pain...

They detransformed and they went to Marinette’s parents’ bakery. He needed to get some bread for Kaalki so he could open up a portal. Marinette would probably agree to go through the portal, if only because Joker and Harley were practically inaccessible. The bats might not believe him now, but he had to hope that seeing Inamovibi-Lady would be enough to convince them.

They sat down in a nearby alley to wait for their kwamis to recharge. Adrien didn’t need to do that, but he’d apparently decided that they should stick together.

Their phones buzzed and they frowned at each other as they pulled them out.

Inamovibi-Lady’s face beamed at them from their screens (not that her face seemed to be able to do anything else).

“Hello, Paris! Well, it’s really just my classmates and the police. No matter! Welcome to our second hearing of the night! Our special guest is…” She did a drumroll on her legs before stepping to the side with a wide flourish.

Lila was pressed back against her wall, looking like she’d rather be absolutely anywhere else. 

“I was right,” muttered Tim, sending Adrien a glare.

He only got a shrug.

Both of them considered going to save Lila. There was a pretty high chance Adrien knew where she lived, but…

Nah.

“YOU CANT DO THIS! MY MOTHER WORKS FOR THE EMBASSY!” Screamed Lila, pulling their attention back to their screens.

“Your mother isn’t here, now, is she?” She spun her yoyo at her side lazily. “Right, how about you plead your case? Would you like to defend yourself on the whole ‘lying to everyone in your class’ thing or the ‘working for Hawkmoth’ thing first?”

Lila sputtered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t want to talk, huh? Don’t you know that you get a lighter sentence when you plead guilty?”

Her yoyo wrapped around Lila’s neck. The liar gasped and clawed at her throat. Tears began rolling down her face.

“How about you talk?” Said Inamovibi-Lady. “I won’t be giving you another chance to tell your side if you don’t.”

Lila sobbed and continued trying to pull the string off of her neck.

The akuma gave her a few seconds before giving the camera an overexaggerated shrug. “Right, I tried. Every word that comes out of Lila’s mouth is a lie, anyways. You shouldn’t trust her to tell you the sky is blue without pictures... and, who knows, they’re probably photoshopped.”

“On top of that, she works for Hawkmoth. Isn’t that right?”

Lila hung her head.

“Cool! I actually wasn’t sure on the Hawkmoth thing, but it’s great that she didn’t deny it. Come get her, coppers!”

“Unless, of course, she wants to say something. Don’t really think there’s anything she can say to make this better for herself, can’t claim self-defense when your victims can’t fight back, after all.”

Inamovibi-Lady unhooked her yoyo and it morphed into a microphone. She pressed it to Lila’s mouth.

“I’m innocent! You have to believe me!” Her voice boomed around Paris.

The akuma tapped her hand to her chin as if considering it, then shook her head as she brought the microphone to her own lips. “Anyone who believes a word that comes out of your mouth is stupid, but I’ll make it so they can finally trust you! Your sentencing is that you can never lie again!”

“Wait, what?”

She turned it back into a gavel with a wave of her hand and hit the wall right beside Lila’s head and the girl screamed as she was engulfed in light.

The akuma picked up her camera and started out into the streets. “Right! Now that that’s done…” Her eyes narrowed. “I know you’re watching this, Chat and Cheval. I added you to this for a reason. How about we play a game? Hero to hero… and vigilante.”

Adrien and Tim gave each other wary glances.

“I can’t see you, but I’m assuming you said yes! I have three targets that I’m going after tonight. Well, five, but two of those are a bit harder to get to. I’m going to need a little bit of help, could you give me a hand, darlings?”

“Either way, you probably can guess who the third is. Feel free to go over to his place now if you don’t want to use your brains… but, if you want to help the other two, my first target is actually on this call, too! She and I have the same noble rank, and we used to be friends, but unfortunately we just stopped connecting like we used to.”

She winked and the screen went black.

Tim frowned, resting his head on his hand. “Marinette is nobility?”

Adrien shrugged and shook his head.

Tim nodded slightly and rested his head back against the stone. It was definitely a riddle, then, but what did she --?

Wait a minute. Tim had believed him.

That didn’t make sense. He wasn’t supposed to believe a thing Adrien said.

But he hadn’t technically ‘said’ anything.

Tim snapped his fingers and pulled out his phone, typing a few words and then pressing send.

Timberly: Hey, I kissed Nette earlier

Adrien looked down at his phone and raised his eyebrows slightly. He rolled his eyes and typed his answer.

Adrikins: Cool? Not able to say that out loud?

Tim grinned.

Timberly: I could but I found a loophole

Timberly: As long as we’re not speaking out loud people can believe us

Adrien’s eyes widened.

Timberly: Is there a way to have our phones on us when we’re in our suits

Adrikins: Yeah. We just can’t be holding them when we transform.

And then Adrien facepalmed. Tim raised his eyebrows at him and waited for his text.

Adrikins: LADY WIFI.

Timberly: Who

~~~

Next part

Me, frantically scrolling through a wikipedia article on the French Judiciary system: there has to be a pun here SOMEWHERE

This was the best I could do ;-;

I, too, am disappointed by my inability to make a good pun for Akumanette

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka  @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna @fusser90 @indecisive-mess-named-me @rosesgonerogue @celestialsiren @bluesimani @loysydark @trippingovermyfeet

[broccoliboix5peepeeman]

Prompt: Izuku's sick. Shōto takes care of him. In his hazed state, Izuku slurred things Shōto aren't meant to hear/know: him being diagnosed as Quirkless at age 4 caused him to endure a decade of bullying & being discriminated against those with flashy, powerful Quirks. Finished with him being suicide-baited/dared by Bakugō. But when Izuku is fully sober, he has no memory of telling Shōto the whole thing. (You're free to choose whether Shōto confronts Bakugō about it or not)

(Holy heckers I love this so much! :O 3000 words, this is the longest prompt I've done so far asdfghjkl Hope you enjoy!)

The moment Shoto's eyes landed on Midoriya, he knew something was wrong.

His best friend had just walked into class, disheveled and pale, with purple bags under his verdant eyes. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead and he was trembling terribly. Concerned, Shoto immediately jumped to his feet.

'Midoriya.' He called out as he strode towards him.

'Oh! Hi Todoroki-kun!' Midoriya turned to look at him, a wobbly smile plastered to his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘How are you?’

‘I was just going to ask you the same thing.’ Shoto dodged the question and came to a stop in front of his friend. When Midoriya tilted his head to the side quizzically, he raised his right hand to a freckled forehead and inhaled sharply at the temperature. ‘Midoriya, you’re burning up - you need to go see Recovery Girl.’

‘I’m fine, Todoroki-kun!’ Midoriya laughed in response, frantically waving his hands in front of him. However, his body betrayed his words when he swayed off-balance. He was about to stumble backwards when Shoto clasped his other hand onto his friend’s shoulder to steady him.

‘No, you’re not.’ He told him firmly, before using his quirk to cool the palm pressed against Midoriya’s forehead. The action elicited a sigh of pleasure from his friend that, in any other circumstance, would’ve had Shoto blushing.

‘Mmm, that’s nice.’ Midoriya leant into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. ‘But I’m not going to Recovery Girl. I’ll be fine - I can’t afford to miss a day just because of some stupid illness. I’ll fall behind and I already have so much catching up to do!’

‘What are you talking about-?’

Before Shoto could ask why Midoriya would even think that he was falling behind, Aizawa suddenly appeared and stood in the doorway, waiting expectantly for everyone to take their seats. Midoriya tried to use the opportunity to escape, but Shoto wasn’t about to give up that easily. He kept his hand secure on his friend’s shoulder, holding him in place, even when their teacher glared at them with exhausted eyes.

‘Please, Todoroki-kun.. I’m fine.’ Midoriya whispered, looking up at Shoto with an expression he recognised but did not expect from his best friend.

Fear. Midoriya had never looked at him like that before; Midoriya had never been scared of him before. Shoto felt a wave of disgust at himself, albeit he had no idea what he had done to cause such distress.

‘Mido-’

‘Is there a problem there?’ Aizawa interrupted, startling Midoriya. Shoto watched as his friend closed in on himself, as if preparing for an attack. Shoto knew that stance well - it was how he used to act when he first started training with his father.

‘Sensei, Midoriya isn’t well and is refusing to get help.’ He spoke, ignoring the rest of the class’s eyes burning holes into his back. ‘I’m not moving until something is done.’

He stared at Aizawa challengingly as he regarded the situation. After a few moments of silence, their teacher approached the two of them, took in Midoriya’s bedraggled appearance and grumbled.

‘Go and see Recovery Girl, Midoriya. You’re not fit for class, even a dope like All Might could tell you that much.’ He spoke gruffly, albeit his words were non-negotiable. ‘I’ll see that you are provided with some substitute work at the end of the day so you can catch up to your classmates.’

‘But Sensei-’ Midoriya began.

‘Todoroki, see to it that the problem child gets to the infirmary in one piece.’ Aizawa finished, his tone bored.

‘Yes, Sensei.’

Their teacher grunted approvingly, then turned and made his way to the front of the classroom. Shoto took that as their cue to leave, so gently ushered Midoriya out of the room, careful not to alarm him. Luckily, his friend went willingly, too exhausted to protest.

Once they were out in the hallway, Shoto closed the door behind them and gazed at Midoriya, who was struggling just to stand up on his own.

Shuffling on his feet, he asked quietly, ‘You want to lean on me? I can help cool you down a bit.’

Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

‘O- Okay…’ Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck. ‘If you’re okay with that, that is.’

‘I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t okay with it.’ Shoto stepped forward and wrapped his right arm around Midoriya’s waist whilst the latter hooked his arm around his shoulders for support. Shoto instantly activated his quirk and Midoriya practically sunk into him as they started walking towards the infirmary.

By the time they arrived, Shoto was carrying Midoriya - who had passed out from exhaustion - in his arms. His friend had nestled his head in the crook of Shoto's neck while his arms hung limp at his sides.

Shoto nodded to Recovery Girl when she spotted them, and moved towards one of the beds. As he carefully laid Midoriya down, the healer sighed and walked over to meet them.

‘What’s he done now?’

‘He isn't well. He has a fever and has been acting on edge.’ Shoto explained, straightening back up. 'Aizawa Sensei instructed me to make sure he got here okay.'

'I see.' She tutted, although Shoto noticed the way she looked over at her patient, clearly concerned. 'Well, at least he hasn't broken anything this time.'

She then met his gaze and smiled. 'Don't worry, Todoroki-shounen. I'll take care of him. You can go back to class now.'

Shoto sent one last look at Midoriya, as white as the sheets around him, swallowed heavily and nodded. 

'Okay.'

Just as he turned to leave though, he suddenly heard his friend grumble and whipped around in alarm.

‘Todoroki-kun?’ Midoriya mumbled, eyes still closed but face inquisitive. ‘Todoroki-kun, are you there?’

Shoto strode forwards and kneeled down, arms resting on the bed as he took his friend’s hand in his own.

‘Yes, Midoriya. I’m here.’ He spoke, trying to hide his worry in his even voice. ‘Go back to sleep, it’s okay.’

‘If I d- do, will you leave?’ Midoriya’s hand tightened around his, making Shoto’s heart clench. ‘Please don’t leave me.’

‘I won’t leave you, I promise.’ Shoto reached forwards and picked up the wet rag Recovery Girl had just set down. He then placed the damp material over his friend’s forehead, dabbing at his flustered skin. The healer merely sighed at the action and muttered something about telling Aizawa about his absence from class, but as long as Shoto didn’t have to leave, he didn't care what happened. He couldn’t abandon his friend while he was like this. 

‘Th- Thank you.’ Midoriya whispered, eyes falling shut against his will.

Within minutes, his friend was asleep again, allowing Shoto to reach behind him and drag forwards a seat to sit in. The chair scraped against the floor, causing Shoto to let out a wince, but Midoriya barely stirred.

Not long after, Recovery Girl came back to examine Midoriya and to tell Shoto that Aizawa had signed off for his absence just this once. Once the healer had finished, she confirmed the presence of a fever and prescribed at least a day of bed rest - not that Midoriya was conscious to hear it. She then tucked Midoriya in bed properly - if she noticed that Shoto was still holding his friend’s hand, she didn’t comment on it - and bustled off to update Midoriya’s lengthy patient record, leaving Shoto alone with him.

Shoto didn’t know how long he sat there, tracing his friend’s scars with his thumb and dabbing his temple with the cool material. Occasionally, Midoriya would murmur something unintelligible in his sleep and Shoto would watch the way his friend’s face scrunched up slightly, hand tightening around his under the covers to make sure he wouldn’t let go.

Eventually though, Shoto’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Leaving the cloth on Midoriya's forehead, he pulled out the device and found a message from Uraraka, asking if everything was alright.

Shoto begrudgingly let go of a calloused hand to type out a response. However, in the minute it took him to send the message, Midoriya's slumber quickly became less peaceful.

His head started moving around and his body twitched. Shoto instantly noticed the movement and pocketed his phone.

'Midoriya?'

He got no response. Instead, his friend started to thrash around in bed, his eyes squeezed shut. Was it his fever? A nightmare? He should go get Recovery Girl. As Shoto stood up though, suddenly his friend cried out.

‘No! No, please don’t!’ Midoriya's eyebrows furrowed and tears started to leak from his eyes as small sobs escaped him. Shoto was instantly at his side, leaning over the bed and taking hold of one of Midoriya’s hands once more.

‘Midoriya-’

‘Kacchan, no! Stop!’ His friend almost wailed, not hearing him. Shoto froze in place at the mention of Bakugou’s name, eyes widening slightly as Midoriya continued to writhe around. ‘Don’t hurt them! Hurt me instead!’

'Midoriya-!'

'I'm not quirkless anymore, Kacchan!' His friend exclaimed. 'No, stop!'

'Izuku!'

Shoto cupped Midoriya’s face in his hands as verdant eyes shot open, terror quickly being replaced with familiarity when he recognised Shoto.

'Todoroki-kun…' He panted heavily, staring up Shoto but not quite seeing him. His eyes were glazed over and his expression was one of apprehension. 'You're not going to hate me too, are you?'

Shoto was taken aback by the question.

'Of course not.' He frowned, wiping away Midoriya's tears. 'I could never hate you. You’re my best friend.'

‘Kacchan and I were best friends too.’ Midoriya turned in Shoto’s hands to look away, voice slurring slightly. ‘But when he found out I was quirkless, he started to hate me.’

‘But-?’ Shoto began, confused. What was he talking about? ‘Midoriya, you’re not quirkless.’

His friend hid his face in Shoto’s palm as hot tears dampened his skin.

‘I used to be.’ Midoriya whispered. ‘Kacchan used to bully me for it. All the kids were in on it too… So were the teachers.’ He whined at the memory. ‘They hated me for living and I hated them for hurting me, but I wanted to be a hero and heroes aren’t meant to hate others.’

Shoto’s mind was running a mile a minute as he tried to process what Midoriya was saying. He used to be quirkless? He was bullied? By Bakugou?

So many questions were on his lips but that didn't matter right now. Right now, his best friend was suffering and Shoto had to help him.

'I think heroes are allowed to feel hate towards those who have hurt them.' He remembered the hatred he felt towards his old man back in their first year. 'Heroes save people, sometimes they even have to save those that hurt them, but we're only human.'

'Sometimes…' Izuku mumbled, eyelashes fluttering against Shoto's hand. 'I thought they were right. That I would be better off dead.’

‘Midoriya!’ Shoto couldn’t help the surprised exclamation. Where had that come from? ‘How could you even think something like that?!’

'Izuku.' Midoriya turned to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. 'You called me Izuku before.'

'I-' Shoto struggled for words. He had to remind himself that his friend still had a fever and that his words were coming out unfiltered. He probably couldn’t even process what he was saying, let alone understand the weight behind his words. Nevertheless though, Shoto couldn't just ignore the revelation that Midoriya - his best friend, the person he trusted the most in the whole world - would ever think that he wasn't worthy of living.

He gently wiped tear trails away from freckled cheeks. 'Izuku.' He corrected. ‘How could you ever think that you would be better off dead?'

Several moments passed without an answer. Shoto searched Midoriya's face as his friend bit his lip, eyes never leaving him.

'They were so cruel to me.' He finally whispered, barely audible if not for the choked way he spoke. 'And when… When Kacchan told me to take a swan dive off the roof and hope for a quirk in the next life… I thought, maybe he was right. I was useless Deku, after all. I wasn't meant to be a hero. I'm just me, weak and pathetic.'

'No, Izuku. He couldn't be more wrong.' Shoto shook his head violently and sat down fully on the bed beside his friend. He leant forwards and rested his forehead against Midoriya's, not caring about how the wet cloth had fallen off to accommodate him.

He felt Midoriya inhale sharply at the contact but he didn't recoil from the touch.

Shoto swallowed heavily. 'No one can even compare to you. You're not just a hero, you're Kota's hero, you're Eri's hero, you're All Might's hero... You're also my hero. Quirk or no quirk, I can promise you that'll never change.'

'But-'

'A world without Midoriya Izuku is a world that I don't want to be a part of.' Shoto continued, his own tears threatening to fall. His vision of Midoriya became blurred, but he dared not blink, even as small sobs escaped his friend.

'Todoroki-kun…' Midoriya slurred, exhaustion finally catching up to him. 'You don't really mean…'

'I do, Izuku.' Shoto replied, desperation seeping into his voice. 'You're the most important person in the world to me and I don't know what I'd do without you.'

Midoriya sniffled in response, raising his trembling hands from beneath the covers and placing them over Shoto's own.

'You mean it.' He whispered.

Shoto knew it wasn't a question, but he nodded against Midoriya's forehead anyway. He then moved to lie next to his friend and took him in his arms, cradling him gently as the last of Midoriya's tears fell. When he eventually quieted, Shoto retrieved the damp cloth from the pillow and - after cooling it again - placed it back on his forehead.

Shoto stayed with him like that, long after Midoriya had fallen back asleep and even as his temperature rose significantly to fight the fever, causing sweat to cling to Shoto uncomfortably. Even when Uraraka, Iida and Tsu came to visit them at lunch, Shoto didn't move, resting his head against Midoriya's own as his friend used his shoulder as a pillow, his arms wrapped around him tightly.

As long as Midoriya needed him, Shoto refused to leave.

However, that evening, after classes had long since finished and Midoriya was sleeping peacefully at his side while Shoto worked on his homework, the door suddenly opened, drawing his attention towards the visitor.

You.

When Bakugou stood in the doorway, glaring at Shoto and Midoriya as if they had offended him just by breathing, Shoto found that his body moved before he could think.

☀️ ☽ 

'The fuck do you think you're doing, Icyhot?!' Bakugou shouted when Shoto slammed him into the wall outside the infirmary.

'What the hell do you think you're doing coming to see Izuku?' Shoto growled, pulling at the blonde's collar.

'None of your business, bastard.' Bakugou snarled. 'Get your fucking hands off me.'

'Oh no, we aren't done yet.' Shoto leant in and stared at the blonde, his eyes cold and unforgiving. 'Luckily for you, I want to be a hero, so instead of beating the shit out of you like I want to, I'll be nice.'

'You wanna fucking go, Half n Ha-?!'

'Izuku told me what you used to do to him!' Shoto shouted, not caring that he was drawing attention to them. 'The bullying! The discrimination!'

He watched Bakugou's mouth snap shut as recognition dawned on him. Shoto glared at him, eyes wide. 'That's right. Anything to say for yourself?'

When the blonde merely tsked and looked away from Shoto's piercing glare, scowling, that was all the confirmation he needed.

He tugged harshly on Bakugou's collar again, drawing his attention back to him. 'Here's what's going to happen, Bakugou.'

'Like I'm gonna listen-'

'Oh, you're going to listen. Because if you don't, I have no qualms with informing Aizawa-Sensei that one of his top students used to mercilessly bully and suicide-bait another for over a decade.'

Bakugou growled, but said nothing. Shoto didn't make idle threats. The blonde knew that - when Shoto said something, he followed through.

Shoto nodded once. 'Good. Here's the deal then. Stay the fuck away from Izuku. Don't talk to him - don't even fucking look at him unless it's for training. If you even lay a finger on him outside of that, there's not a pro out there who'll be able to stop me. Understand?'

When Bakugou remained silent, he continued. 'You may think you're such a big man, but you'll be pleased to know, Bakugou, that I actually like big men like you. When they fall, they make more noise.'

He leant in to whisper in his ear, 'And sometimes, when they fall, they don’t get back up.'

Shoto pulled back and shoved Bakugou away, enjoying the way his back hit the wall with a thud. 'Consider this a warning.'

Shoto turned away then, leaving the blonde to consider his words, and returned to the infirmary. The moment he walked in though, he was met with a pair of emerald eyes, staring at him knowingly.

'You're awake.' Shoto stated, approaching the bed and sitting down on the edge. 'How are you feeling?'

'Did I really…' Midoriya began, before lowering his chin to his chest. 'I told you about the bullying?'

Shoto stilled. Had he really shouted that loudly? How much did he hear? It didn't matter now though. After all, he couldn't lie to Midoriya if he tried.

'You did.' He confirmed, watching as his friend chewed on his lip. 'You also said… That he used to bully you because you were quirkless and…'

He trailed off. I can't do it.

Shoto had already seen how distraught Midoriya had been before when he had recalled the suicide-baiting and the depreciating thoughts that had stemmed from it. He couldn't make his friend go through that again.

'And?' Midoriya asked, worriedly.

'And…' Shoto met his friend's vulnerable eyes and sighed. I'll make sure he never hurts you again. I'll protect you with my life.

'And I just want you to know… While I don't understand what you meant by being quirkless, I'll always support you - I could never hate you, Izuku. That's a promise.'

Midoriya startled at Shoto's use of his given name, but he didn't question it. Instead, he sunk further into the bed and smiled at him.

'I guess I have a lot of explaining to do, huh?'

Shoto laid down next to him and the two of them stared up at the grey ceiling.

'It's okay, you need to rest.' Shoto reached out and took Midoriya's hand. 'I can wait. I'll always wait for you.'

[escapethewonderland]

It could have been you

Pairing: JakexFem!MC (Nadia)

Word counts: 1.8k

A/N: Hi darlings, I got the itch for a bit of Jake angst over the last few days so here it is this little OS. Kindly inspired by a song that stuck in my head while writing, Muddy Waters by LP. Hope you like it! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7 ENDING, BE AWARE!

TW: swearing, angst, mention of blood

Nadia was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her closet intently like she was trying to find an answer to the incredible mess that her life had become over the last month. The doors were hanging open, patiently waiting for the girl to start gathering the clothes she needed for the trip to Duskwood.

She felt like her head was on the verge of exploding. Rabid thoughts were chasing each others around unbounded, hammering against her temples and begging to set them free.

She squeezed her hands together, quivering nervously while trying to release that ugly tension off her body. Seeing Richy bloody, slowing fading away on that hellish forest’s ground was the last straw for Nadia: someone got severely hurt and, all of a sudden, the game her and Jake were playing got extremely real.

Nadia couldn’t afford anymore to wait on the sidelines, protected by the distance and her hacker because sooner or later, they would come knocking on her doors. Although the strong gut feeling of running far away in the opposite direction, Nadia couldn’t deny the inescapable bond that was calling her to Duskwood. Even more now that both the girl and Jake may had the blood of an innocent guy dripping from their hands.

The young woman closed her eyes against that cruel image, breathing slowly from her nose, flexing her fingers.

Richy was going to make it; he had to.

He might survive. Those were the feeble words of hope that the doctors had said and the whole group hold on to them with ferocity: the idea of losing Richy was unacceptable.

A notification from the phone distracted the young woman, making her wince: she couldn’t recall how long she had been standing still in front of the wardrobe.

  Nadia…I just read your texts. Is it true? Is Richy…?

The girl let an unsteady breath slip out between her lips, fighting back the tears.

Yes Jake, he’s fighting for his life on an operating table.

She got up from her bed, walking aimlessly around the small apartment in an agitated frenzy. Jake’s answer came right away.

I’m so, so sorry. I…I wasn’t expecting that. I…I’m at loss for words.

“No shit” Nadia snorted viciously under her breath, wiping away a traitorous tear that slowly crept down her cheek. Her breath was now ragged, but she still tried to keep her cool and not hyperventilate. Panic wouldn’t get her nowhere, she needed to be sharp right now.

Holding her phone in a tight grip, Nadia walked back to her bedroom; mind settled.

I don’t know what to say too, Jake, but I know what I have to do.

She threw the mobile on her bed with more vehemence than what was necessary. With few, swift strides, she found herself back in her room, standing in front of her closet to retrieve an old backpack from the tallest shelf. She scrutinized the clothes with a clinic eyes, opting for something practical, taking only the bare minimum she needed for a week or so.

Nadia didn’t bother to check her phone when Jake’s first reply came. Nor the next one or the other after that.

She was on autopilot, a ghost wandering around and haunting her own house.

Nadia spared a look at her reflection in the mirror while collecting the stuff she needed from the bathroom: her face was strained with harsh lines, eyes wide with messy makeup and even messier hair.

She brought her things to the other room, dumping them merciless inside the backpack and only then looked at her phone.

There were several messages from Jake but it was the last one that caught the girl’s attention.

Are you packing, Nadia? Please, answer me.

The phone slipped from her fingers after reading that words. A hint of paranoia emerged in her chest and she scanned her bedroom with meticulous care, calming down again only when she had checked twice every possible hiding place. No one seemed to be lurking in her room and the curtains were closed shut, a few sun shines peeking through them. She was still safe, it was still her home, no danger lurking in the shadows.

With trembling hands, Nadia retrieved the phone from the carpet.

She frowned, slightly afraid to look at the camera, before a wave of scolding hot anger filled her bones. Mouth set in a straight, harsh line, she started typing to Jake.

Are you fucking spying on me through my phone, Jake?

No answer. The girl felt like boiling with everything she’d been trying to repress since the first time Thomas texted her.

Are you fucking serious, Jake? Are you fucking with me or have you lost your mind along the way? Do you think that you can just go around spying people through their phone whenever it sooths you, whenever it’s convenient for your agenda?

Jake. I fucking trusted you! YOU…

The girl stopped there, unable to type anymore given the trembling that took control of her hands.

Nadia brought the back of her hand against her lips, suppressing a sob that would inevitably destroy the already fragile dam that was barely holding back all of her destructive emotions.

She fought it with all of her might, eventually falling on her knees because even standing felt crushing in that moment.

Nadia felt like she was going crazy, slowly loosing herself in something that was so much bigger than her.

Her phone started vibrating in her hand, signalling an incoming call from an unknown number.

Nadia stood there for a moment, debating if accepting the call or not. Could it be…?

“Hello?” she answered with a shaky voice.

Nadia heard a sight and a male voice greeted her, no distortion this time.

“Please, don’t go” pleaded who she assumed was Jake on the other side of the line.

Nadia let out a wet sob, almost chocking on the longing and sadness that built up in her chest at hearing Jake’s voice for the first time. His voice sounded so warm and comforting like a soothing balm, but it was all ruined by the ill-timing of the call.

“How much have I longed for this moment… you have no idea, Jake, you have no idea. I can’t believe it, it’s actually you” she mumbled under her breath, almost too quiet to be heard.

Another sight greeted her words, but Jake didn’t say anything.

“I would have loved to hear your voice for the first time under different circumstances” she continued, tears rolling freely down her grieving face.

“But the situation is pretty fucked up, Jake. I can’t afford to wait on the side-lines any longer”

“You can’t go, Nadia, please. You can’t really be thinking of going to Duskwood” replied Jake fast, almost eating up the words like he was in a hurry to get them out, to keep her safely where she was.

“But I am going, Jake. It was all my fault: Jessy’s attack, Cleo’s letters and now Richy… if I didn’t get involved, if I stayed out of it, nothing would have happened to them. It’s only fair I stand by their side to help them, actually help them” Nadia said with deep-rooted sadness in her voice, slowly getting up from the carpet. Her knees felt weak but her mind was strong.

There was a loud thud on the other side of the line, like a fist being slammed against a wooden table.

“No, no, no! Nadia, please! Duskwood is even more dangerous than before right now and you could put yourself into bigger troubles!”

She snorted without humour in her voice, now fully standing, sliding a hand through her hair.

“Well Jake, it’s not like you can stop me, can you? Because you’re not here… You’re not fucking here with me. What would you have me rather do, uh? Don’t you think I’m scared!? I’M TERRIFIED BUT WHY DON’T YOU…”

“IT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU, DAMMIT!” Jake almost screamed into her ear, panting like he had just ran a marathon.

Nadia closed her eyes while more tears carved their path through her reddened cheeks, biting hard on her lower lip. Her heart clenched painfully at his words cause only now she realized how much she’d been craving to feel his barriers coming down.

“It could have been you, bleeding out in that nightmarish forest, for fuck’s sake. And only the thought of you being hurt or worse, of losing you…it’s enough to drive me insane” he confessed softly, his silky voice like sweet honey in the Nadia’s ear, a tempting offer of haven.

“But it wasn’t me” she replied hesitantly, not trusting her voice not to break “it still could have been Lilly. It could have been Hannah”

That was a low blow, Nadia knew that but his sisters were the only family he had left and if he couldn’t be on the front line to save them, she would step up to be in his place and protect them.

“I don’t wanna lose you, not you too” Jake whispered, voice heavy with despair, so close to the mic that for a moment she had the faint illusion of having him right by her side.

“And you won’t, Jake, I promise you. You won’t lose any of us, we will see each other at the end of this. We’ll all be together and make up for all the time we spent apart.”

She almost smiled at that idyllic picture taking shape into her mind.

“But I have to go” Nadia simply stated, softly as to not hurt him, even though she was already doing that.

She closed the call before she lost all of the courage she had mustered up, Jake’s no’s haunting her while she turned off her phone. She exhaled deeply, before hitting her wardrobe’s door with her open palm, muffling a scream against her folded t-shirts.

It took Nadia five whole minutes to regain her composure and fight back fat tears of sorrow, but when she finally looked back up, there were flames in her eyes.

She set her body into motion, retrieving an object from the drawer under her desk: the older phone used to be her main phone, but Nadia was sure she was going to need a backup since everyone in Duskwood already had her info. No one knew her new number though, so she hoped it could turn out to be a secret advantage. Only Lilly was aware of it, she was the one to help her out to settle everything and she was the only soul that knew she was coming to Duskwood and they both preferred that way.

She braced herself, backpack on her shoulder and keys in her hands: even though she was filled with much uncertainty, Nadia knew she was on the right path.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Ignorance is Blitzed (Part Two)

Ron Speirs x Reader

When you come into contact with some substance that makes you sick while on a routine building search, Ron realizes he may not be as emotionally detached as he’d thought initally thought.

WARNINGS: Some overthinking handsome deathwish prince, some potty words, he makes you nakey but it’s to save your life so NOT SMUT YET KIDS BUT SOON

The shot the doc had given you only confirmed what the SS prisoner had tried to communicate to Bull in broken English- the nazi’s were giving their footsoldiers amphetamines as stimulants and aggression boosters.

Ron supposed that he should feel some comfort in that- that it hadn’t truly been poison or some aneurysm of some kind that had left you this trembling and sick mess on the mattress before them.

But you still were hurting, still sick and trembling and miserable despite Doc insisting that the drugs he’d given you ensured that you weren’t in any discomfort. He knew better than to fully believe that- sure, you may not be getting violently ill at his feet anymore, but that didn’t mean you were anywhere near okay.

When you’d stumbled from the building he’d thought at first you were drunk, your steps staggering and your knees buckling like some crumpling marionette. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you so pale, and the haunted, terrified look on your face made his heart turn to stone in his chest when he’d caught it. 

He may not have known you and been your friend as long as Bull or Nix or Grant or even that squirrelly kid Christenson, but the idea of something taking you away from the world had become unacceptable somewhere between New York and Normandy. 

Your friendliness with Grant and Nix had brought you existence out of Ron’s peripheral and into his direct line of sight, and when you’d masterfully articulated the most effective way to refit the Allies-issued rifle with stolen parts from the German’s more advanced weaponry, you’d made it clear that you were not to be looked over just because you were easy on the eyes.

Which you were, and as much as Ron hated to admit it he had caught himself admiring you from across a classroom a time or ten while in Georgia. He just was better at hiding it than all of the other idiots who you would catch gaping at you.

You were easy to like, even for someone as prickly as Ron knew himself to be- strong and sincere and friendly and so fiercely loyal to the group of idiots you affectionately called ‘your boys’ that, even when he actively tried to dislike you, he couldn’t seem to manage it.

Not that he’d ever told you as much. Obviously. That wouldn’t do.

Or, it wouldn’t have done— to be more accurate.

Until now, he was fine with your strange friendship of comfortable silences and shared looks of reassurance and private jokes followed by even more private grins. You just seemed to fit, not like you’d filled a missing space, but more like you just seemed to...complement him.

And he was content to just remain that way— a dark and brooding shadow to your beautiful, blinding light. 

But now, having had a taste of what it would feel like to have your brilliant light nearly snuffed out? He felt ….threatened, something you had once teased was the most dangerous weapon the battalion had at its disposal. 

“God help the son of a bitch who ever cuts you off in traffic, Ron Speirs. If science can ever figure out what makes you tick, they should bottle it and sell it for profit….”

The memory seemed horribly ironic now.

You, you’re what makes me tick.

Even as you’d laid there shaking like a leaf, he’d been unable to see you as anything other than beautiful- a wounded Nike in army green.

Well, you had been in green— after about an hour of rest you’d sweat through your jumpsuit and in order to cool you off Ron and Roe had had to cut your layers away until you were left in your sweat-soaked undershirt and underpants. 

Of course, the perspiration on your skin had instantly cooled and sent you into a violent fit of shivers that only ceased after Ron got sick of watching you suffer and he’d forced the young man to help him carry you to the closest source of hot water and clumsily held you in a warm bath until your shivering subsided to an occasional twitch of your hand or foot.

Ron had never sat in a bathtub with another person before, but he figured that if he were going to it, it may as well have been for you. 

Your head had been heavy on his shoulder has he’d held you against him, the only sign of your wakefulness being your occasional grumble of Is it raining? or if you’re going to kill me just do it already or Ron I’m sorry I fucked up.

Roe had said nothing about how Ron rocked you in his arms whenever you tensed or shivered, nor did the medic seem to give off the impression that he found your symptoms surprising for someone in your situation, which filled Ron with relief.

“Y/n’s body hasn’t come into contact with methamphetamine before, if i had to guess. A lot of what we saw was her body doing what it’s supposed to do in order to get it out of her system….doesn’t look good, but it all this means everything’s doing exactly what it’s meant to….”

At least you weren’t dying. 

Each day that passed brought them one day closer to going home, closer to getting to go home where he didn’t have to worry about his friends and brothers getting killed the moment he let his guard down. Ron wasn’t sure if he believed in destiny, but he’d decided long ago that you and he were going to survive this whether you wanted to or not.

You were fucking with his plans, getting yourself hurt like this.

If he didn’t know how badly you were going to beat yourself up about making such a mistake, he probably would've been angrier about the whole thing.

But here, now? Ron couldn’t find it in himself to feel anger, not for you.

Never for you.

Roe had left him to watch you after your temperature had stabilized and the two of them had dressed you in some of Bull Randleman’s cleanest boxers and undershirt. You’d only stirred a few times since the initial injection and when you did Roe had made it clear that you were to be hydrated.

So there you were, back on the lumpy mattress in between Ron’s legs with your back against his chest, sipping from his water canteen while you apologized for maybe the hundredth time for something that wasn’t your fault (and even if it had been, he wouldn’t have blamed you for).

He watched you with soft eyes as you lowered the canteen and took a deep breath, another wave of something unpleasant washing over you that he couldn’t see, couldn’t ease for you.

“Do you need to get sick?” he asks quietly, but you’re shaking your head before he can finish.

“No, no. Just dizzy.”

Your tired gaze finds his face over your shoulder and you seem to study him for a moment, chapped lips parting a few times as if you want to say something, but the words seem to die on your tongue.

He lets your eyes trail over his face, taking a moment to take in your closeness as well.

“They’re gonna think we’re sleeping together.”

Your words surprise him, the amount of apology in your tone making his chest ache. You sigh again, looking at his canteen in your hands and working your jaw.

“The replacements, no matter what company…..they said it about Nix in Toccoa and Bull and Grant since Normandy. It’s….I’ve gotten used to it, but—”

“Let them.”

You freeze at that, and when he whispers your name he swears he’s never seen you look so shy.

Ah hell, he’d done stupider things than tell a girl he liked her. 

And if anyone deserved his honesty, it was you.

He shrugged casually, taking the canteen from your hands and leaning over to set it on the floor. The action brought his face closer to yours, and when you didn’t flinch away or look unhappy he gave you a look he knew you’d be able to see as genuine, even if to anyone else his stern expression hadn’t changed.

“Ron,”

“Y/n.”

You look as if you’re about to argue more, but with one more look at him you nod slightly.

He’s not sure what you’re nodding for,and he isn’t sure that you know either, but it feels as if you’re agreeing to something he’d been hoping you’d say yes to.

“I’m scared I won’t wake up.” you admit quietly, and when he pulls you back against him you follow so beautifully he almost kisses you. Almost.

He settles for tucking your head under his chin, and when you relax against him he feels privileged. 

“I won’t let that happen. You’ll wake up—”

“Why?” you ask softly, and Ron hopes that this is the final wave of exhaustion your body has to endure. 

He knows you aren’t just asking about why he won’t let you die in your sleep, and he has to think for a moment before finally the answer comes to him as easy as breathing.

“Because, I just do.”

You fall asleep shortly after that, your fingers laced with his in a light hold that he was reluctant to break.

 When Bull and the Doc come by a few minutes later, they find the two of you curled around each other like ivy and both sound asleep.

The two men stare at the scene before them for a few moments before Roe makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat. “Well, I’ll be….I didn’t necessarily see this coming.”

Bull barks a laugh, too relieved that you’re looking so much better to share the man’s stunned awe. With an approving nod, he nudges Eugene with his shoulder.

“C’mon, Doc. Let’s let em have an hour, unless you wanna be the one to wake up Sparky over there and let him know you approve—?”

Roe is out of the room before Bull can finish the offer, and with a grin the large man pops his cigar between his teeth,

“Good for you, kiddo.” he says under his breath, a grin on his face as he quietly shuts the door behind him.

An hour wouldn’t hurt.

(WOO HERE IT BE, THANK YOU FOR READING MY RAMBLINGS AND I LOVE YOU GUYS)

TAGLIST: @itswormtrain 

[madam-mademoiselle]

The Ill Wind of Mozart's Horn Concerto No.4

It was one of those days where the rain was beating against the mansion, keeping residents at home. Normally those who are out in Paris at this time of day were occupying themselves in a little free time from their normal schedule. The weather being bad as it was, Sebastian forbade you to even take a carriage into the city to get what was on the grocery list along with the tenants' needs list.

You had more or less stuck with the same chores, wanting them to be done so tomorrow would be a lighter load on you and Sebastian. He had told you to make sure the windows and mirrors on the second floor were cleaned. The least favorite chore you had to do. There was that one smudge that resulted in a painful flick to the forehead. 

With Mozart's piano playing in the background, you swore you almost heard the same tune. You hummed along with it before realizing what it was! You snapped your fingers and smiled. Oh he was not going to like this, but! This was going to be worth it for you!

You waited as he played through an arrangement before coming to the one you knew quite well. Clearing your throat while cleaning the window next to his door. As soon as the first stanza began, you followed along singing.

"I once had a whim and I had to obey it

To buy a French Horn in a second-hand shop;

I polished it up and I started to play it

In spite of the neighbours who begged me to stop."

The piano stopped briefly from your… lack of the musical ability to carry a tune. You made sure the hallway was clear of any of the residents, starting your lovely melody as Mozart began his concerto again. You sounded off again much to his dismay.

"To sound my Horn, I had to develop my embouchure;

I found my Horn was a bit of a devil to play."

The sound of piano stopping suddenly had you quiet again while footsteps could be heard marching towards the door. You pressed your lips together to suppress the smirk that was trying to make its way on your face. Facing the window and focusing on the cloth, the door opens to have Mozart peering around to find the offender.

Those violet eyes were drilling into your person. You pretended to focus on the glass but turned to him. You gave him a smile, "is there anything you need Mozart?" The rag in your hand as you paused to give him your attention. Staring into your soul, he stepped fully into the hallway.

"Yes, I thought I heard someone butchering one of my concertos out in the hallway." You turned your head down the hall, making a show of it. You turned back to him with an expression of confusion. "I'm sorry, I haven't been paying attention. I've been trying to make sure the windows and mirrors are clean and streak free. Maybe some hot chocolate and sweets will help? You stayed up late last night working on your piece."

That part was true, he was frustrated when he described the music he heard in his head wasn't wanting to come through the way he was wanting it. When he did come to bed, he tossed and turned before getting up and returning to the piano. When you woke up to see him sleeping on the piano, you covered him with his blanket, and went to retrieve some Blanc from the kitchen to drink later.

Back to the current situation, he shook his head, "no. I appreciate the offer. Thank you for the Blanc and blanket earlier mein liebe.” His eyes softened as he reached to push back a stray lock from your face. Feeling sympathetic, you wrung the rag in your hand. “You know Wolf, someone once told me you need to focus on something else and whatever thought you were thinking of so hard before, will come in front of your mind. 

Seeing him looking indignant, you held up a hand, trying to soothe him. You started to tick off ideas for him to do. “Before you say you were playing something else, you still saw the notes in your head. Leave the music room for a little bit. Go to the dining room and get some lunch, I can make you coffee, or maybe go watch Jean and Napoleon spar, I’m sure Jean wouldn’t mind.”

He shook his head, “it's not that simple. It is at the end of my finger tips, the melody is there. Trying to convey it…" Placing the rag on the window sill, you take one of his hands in yours. You kissed the back fingers and squeezed his hand gently before letting it go. You knew he was a germaphobe and didn't want to push it too far.

"You'll figure it out and once you have it penned in the stanzas, it'll have its place. I won't keep you further, I have to get back to cleaning windows before Sebas finds out I am shirking work." You groan the last part. Thinking about any flicks to the forehead he may deliver if he catches a single streak.

He offered one of his private smiles for you before shutting himself back into the music room. You sighed and got back to work, listening to him play through his arrangements. Hearing the frustration in his playing as he tried to find the notes that eluded him. When you got to the last window and raised your rag to clean it, he started with that concerto again.

You waited patiently, keeping yourself distracted. Listing chores that you had completed, thinking of the shops you needed to visit in town, and even to the point where you were pursing your lips as you were mouthing along with it. He heard your God awful caterwauling for the first time. Mozart probably knew it was you singing and was too preoccupied with that tune to speak to you about it.

Taking it no more and ready to face his disappointment and horror when he realizes his significant other couldn't sing, you continued your song:

"I miss its music more and more and more.

Without that Horn I'm feeling sad and so forlorn."

Your voice had reached a deep pitch of the song when singing out forlorn. You coughed quickly to clear the tickle it had created in your throat. Quickly resuming where you had left off in your tune.

 

"I found a concerto and wanted to play it,

Displaying my talent at playing the Horn,

But early today to my utter dismay it had totally vanished away."

The piano had stopped abruptly. The rag dropped from your hand realizing what you had just sang aloud. Oh boy, that was probably the wrong thing to belt out when your composer boyfriend just told you he was having issues trying to wretch out that stubborn melody from his skull. You heard more than saw as the door to the music room swung open with more force than normal. In the doorway revealed Mozart, giving you an icy stare as he slowly walked toward you.

"MC? So it was you from earlier. I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt. However, I simply cannot forgive what I just heard." He placed his hand on the wall beside your head while you were staring at him with wide eyes. He moved to eye level, close enough to kiss him, his other hand moved to gently hold your chin in place. Maybe it was a bad idea to choose that song out of anything else? "Mozart, it's just that your music is so accomplished, that there may be some parodies of your work and that so happen to be one I overheard…"

He was silent, cool amethyst eyes watching your expression. Pondering about what to do with you. You had interrupted his time twice with what you called singing. No doubt everyone in the mansion had heard them. Grasping your chin, his eyes bore into yours, a small smirk started to grace his lips. "You had suggested I take a break. Come." Letting go of your chin and stepping away from you, he started towards his music room.

"Why are we heading towards the music room? I don't think it would be productive if you took a bre-!" Forgetting your momentary faux pas and getting slightly annoyed that you were still in your spot, he came back over to you to sweep you off your feet. "Your listening skills are as bad as your singing." That smirk got a little bigger as he carried you to the room. You glared at him for that little comment.

"I am going to take a break with mein liebe by giving her a voice lesson. That should inspire me." At the threshold of the door, he kissed you, teasing out a low moan from your throat. "Much better." With you still in his arms, he shut the door to start your "lessons".

*A few hours later*

Closing the door to the music room and hearing the piano's song flowing beautifully in the hallways you grabbed your cleaning supplies. Heading to the kitchen, you straightened up your clothes and hair. You happen to look at the wristwatch Issac had repaired for you, realizing it was 10 minutes passed the normal time the caffeine addicted vampires of the mansion took their coffee, Mozart included.

Arthur had beat you to the coffee grinder as he was drinking his fill of the precious bean water along with Leonardo present. His tool kit was sitting on the counter, putting away one of them. "Coffee grinder mess up again Leo?" Placing the bucket in the pantry and washing my hands, both vampires were silent, feeling their eyes on me. Drying your hands, you made eye contact with Arthur's sapphire ones. "What?"

"I didn't know Wolfie's bird wasn't much of a songbird. Was going to come out of my room and give you a standing ovation." Your cheeks were flushing red. You thought everyone had moved to the first floor, you had forgotten about the other residents that reside on the second floor. Arthur was probably writing instead of being with Theo. Leonardo chuckled, handing you the grinder. "Everyone heard you cara mia."

You groaned, hiding one of your hands. Arthur smirked at your embarrassment, "yeah. Mozart caught me singing to one of his concertos with verses that weren't really appropriate for it. He was trying to compose with a melody that wouldn't come to him and I told him a break would probably help."

Leonardo was silent, hearing the muffled sounds of piano playing. "It sounds like it helped cara mia or would prima donna be more suited to you eh?" You threw the drying towel at him, seeing him getting a laugh out of the teasing both of them were doing to you.

"It did, I'm just glad it helped. It finally came to him after he gave me some music lessons so I am happy he can get it on paper now." Placing the towel back on the counter, Leonardo left the kitchen, leaving you and Arthur. The smirk on his face grew the size of the Cheshire Cat's. "What? Why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?"

 "I think you enjoyed the lesson too, bird." His index finger tapped to the place where his shoulder and neck met. Miming him, you felt the dried blood from where you had ‘your lesson.'

"Arthur!" Furious, you placed the coffee grinder down on the table to chase after the laughing writer.

------

Thank you @aeoncryptic for proof reading and for the support for my first Ikemen Vampire fanfic shot!

The song MC is an actual song called Ill Winds by Flanders and Swann. Take this fic as you will, just wanted to have a little fun with Mozart.

[ijustwant2write]

The Right Treatment-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @19-9x​)

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by @randombella: 'Hi, I absolutely love your writing! Could I request a Tommy x reader where she’s a childhood friend of all the Shelbys and then she’s got some kind of illness and keeps getting sicker but tries to hide it. But then Tommy finds out and everyone’s angry at her for hiding it and makes her get treatment. Thank you so much! Xx'

Characters: Tommy Shelby x Reader, John Shelby x Reader (platonic), Arthur Shelby x Reader (platonic), Polly Shelby x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, illness (including pain), injury, arguing, angst, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Another morning waking up in pain, another morning where I hid that away from my closest friends. I slowly sat up, having to pause for a second as my head was spinning. After a while, I thought I would be used to it. Pushing through it, I forced myself to stand, stumbling my way to the wardrobe. I had to get dressed and ready before going to have breakfast, because I found it harder to make my way back up the stairs again. The pain subsided for a while, my headache disappearing, but my muscles still aching.

The cold nipped at me as I stepped outside, wrapping my coat tighter around me and making sure my hat was secure on my head. We never received good weather, and it made me feel worse every day. It didn't help that I was vulnerable to colds that could keep me in bed for up to a week, and this would be my first day back after having to take some time off, again.

"Here she is!" Arthur bellowed as I stepped into the betting shop."Dunno how we've all survived without your gorgeous face round 'ere."

"Don't get too close Arthur, I'm still not fully recovered."

"No, nothin' is stopping this." he hugged me tightly, not realising how much pain he was causing.

I winced, holding in the whimpering as he let go, smiling as I quickly turned around, heading to my desk outside of John's office. I had been his secretary for many years, I had been there when the business first started. The Shelby's and I were close, we were there for each other throughout everything. And after my parents died, they were the only ones I had left. They were sickly like I was, and I feared that I too would follow suit. But no one else needed to worry about me, especially not my boys.

"What time do you call this? Been slacking off all week and you waltz in fifteen minutes before we open?" John teased as he opened the door to his office, leaning against the door frame.

"It's called being on time. I'm here before all the other workers as you can see." I stated, meaning back in my chair and smirking.

"I'm just messing. You give them lot a bad name."

"I just like being here. It's better than being alone in my house. And I've been stuck there for a whole week."

"Yeah, we meant to visit but-"

"But you had business. Don't worry, I understand."

"Just seems that you've been getting ill quite a lot recently-"

"John, I'm fine. It's just this weather."

He looked me over with concern, nodding his head slowly before going back into his office. The tension in my shoulders dropped, glad that he dropped the topic before any questions were asked. No one else needed to worry about me, and I didn't want anyone else knowing.

As usual, the shop was busy. Everyone was bustling about, and it was getting far too hot already. Men were constantly walking by me, some even bumping into my desk which pissed me off. John was working on the bets too, so my work was limited. It always was with him, Tommy handled more of the paperwork. And speaking of, I hadn't seen Tommy once that day.

However, after another hour, the noise, humidity of the room and generally the people, were getting to me,

"I'm going for my break." I struggled to tell John as he was surrounded by other workers.

I heard him acknowledge me, though I wasn't sure what he had actually said. Taking it as a yes, I left anyway, relieved to be in the fresh air. As I stood in the backyard, I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes as I tried to cool off. My headache was back, and my back hurt from being stuck at the desk. The pain made me want to cry, but I couldn't show that in front of anyone. Save the tears for home.

"(Y/N)?" Tommy appeared, making me jump.

I broke out into a cough as I gasped, turning away as if that would hide me from him. I felt his hand on my back, and I moved away, quickly recovering.

"You shouldn't be back." he simply stated.

"I'm fine. You just made me jump." I breathed out, standing up straight.

He was silent, about to light a cigarette before putting it back in the box."Are you feeling better?"

"Yes."

"You're lying."

"I might not be fully recovered, but I'm completely fine to work."

"If you say so."

I huffed, rolling my eyes."Tommy, I'm capable of working right now. I don't need you all to babysit me."

"We're just looking out for you-"

"Yes, well...I can do that by myself, thank you!"

My anger had come from no where, making me falter slightly, and I had to use the wall for support. Tommy reached out to me to help, but my arm shot out, rejecting it.

"I'm going back inside. I need to get back to my work." I mumbled, trying to ignore the dizziness as I walked away.

"(Y/N), woah, hold on." Polly blocked me from entering the shop, and I groaned at her.

"Polly, I'm fine. Let me get past." I snapped.

"No you're not. I'm not an idiot, anyone can see that you're about to faint at any minute." she directed me to a chair close by.

"Pol-"

Her hands went to her hips."Shut up. Tommy, have you seen the state of her?"

Tommy stood beside her."Yes."

"Well, why haven't you sent her home?"

"She says she's perfectly fine."

"Oh for fucks sake. You are going home, now."

"What? Polly, you can't be serious."

"I fucking am. I'm not going to make you work if you look like you're about to drop."

"But I've been off for a week."

"Doesn't matter. Get home and rest properly." the scowl on her face softened."Please."

I sighed, wanting to retaliate and stubborn, but I could already feel the energy draining from me; glancing at the clock, I saw that I had a long time left, and I knew that I wouldn't last long.

"Fine." I huffed."I'll go."

"I'll walk you." Tommy offered.

I went to say no, but Polly's eyes warned me not to."Go with Tommy. I'll be round at some point to check that you're eating properly too."

This isn't what I wanted. The Shelby's had done so much for me in the past. We were next door neighbours since children, my dad even got involved with the gang side of things because the boys were always able to cut him a good deal, they wanted to help provide for our family. My mum didn't care that he was a blinder, as long as he came home alive and spent time with me. And of course, there was that fucking war, and my boys came back entirely different men. It took a long time to build up our relationships again, to be able to laugh freely.

"Tommy, I'm sorry you have to walk me home. I know you've got better things to do." I said as we left the shop.

"No I don't."

I didn't know what else to add, deciding to say nothing. As I unlocked my house, I didn't expect Tommy to follow inside. I said nothing against it, knowing he would have come in despite my objections.

"Are you here to spoon feed me?" I deadpanned, taking off my coat and setting down my handbag as if he wasn't there.

"Why are you pushing us away?"

"I'm not. I just don't think I need this much fussing over."

I made my way to the kitchen, sitting at the tiny dining table. My body was relieved, relaxing slightly, though the numbing pain was still there.

"(Y/N), look at yourself. You're not like you used to be." he sat opposite me.

"I'm exactly the same."

"No you're not! You don't move around like someone your age. I don't see you interacting with anyone as much as you used to. And...and you don't dance anymore."

I hadn't seen Tommy this upset for years. It was breaking my own heart.

"You used to dance all the time. Any music that played and you were up dancing, didn't matter where we were either. You were always able to get John or Arthur, even Finn to get up with you. Never me though. I haven't danced with you enough."

"Tommy, you make it sound like I'm dying." my voice was shaky, knowing there was truth in my words.

He hadn't broke eye contact, but I saw a change of emotion in his eye."Because you just might be."

"T-Tommy I'm not dying."

"Then why are you so scared? Have you been to a doctor?"

"There wasn't any need-"

"Have you seen yourself?" Tommy was beginning to get angry."Why haven't you been?"

"Because I know that this is just a small illness! I-I haven't fully recovered."

"(Y/N), stop lying to yourself. Please let me take you to a doctor, or get one sent here."

"Tommy! I don't need you to look after me anymore!" I suddenly shouted, silencing the both of us.

Instantly regretting what I said, my heart was telling me to apologise, but my stubborn mind refused to. Tommy sighed, standing up to leave, but before he did, he kissed me on the forehead. I stayed in my seat as he left, laying my head down on my arms to cry. I didn't want to argue with him, I didn't mean to shout. Why hadn't I just talked with him?

Although tears were stilling spilling out of my eyes, I got up and made myself a cup of tea, needing a distraction. But what with the stress and due to how tired I was, I sat back down again, sipping at my tea. I had one of those moments where the time disappeared in an instant, I felt like I blinked and it was suddenly dark outside. Though I hadn't thought about anything, my mind had been blank. Perhaps that was my way of pushing away the situation at hand.

There was a knock at the door, and I knew it was Polly. No doubt she came to feed me, and she would definitely make me eat. Slowly standing, I called out to her, letting her know I was coming, when I felt dizzy again. Holding onto whatever was nearest to me, I struggled to walk to the door, which should have taken me less than ten seconds. Polly's voice was muffled behind the door, but I could hear my breathing ever so loudly in my ears. My upper body wasn't able to hold itself upright, and I fell against the wall. Trying to stand up straight, I swayed backwards, before tipping forwards and collapsing, but not before smashing my head against the stair banister. 

The same pounding in my head I usually woke up with was still there, though the throbbing pain throughout my body was more intense. Was Tommy right? Was I getting closer to death? I opened my eyes, preparing myself to face another day, when I realised that I wasn’t at home. The ceiling was white, and much higher than mine in my room. And as I started to gather my surroundings, it was clear that I wasn’t laying in my bed, it was too bright in here to be my room, and the smell was too strong; it smelt too clean in here, too sterile. 

“Tommy?” I mumbled as I realised he was sat in a chair next to the bed. He looked rough, it was clear that he had been here all night with me.

His head pricked up when he heard me, rubbing his hand over his face.“You’re alright. You fell yesterday, hit your head badly.”

“I don’t really remember that.”

“It was lucky that Polly was there. She kicked the door in and called us. Drove you here as fast as we could.”

“I’m sorry Tommy. I’m sorry for making you all worry.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does though.” I stretched out my hand towards him, glad when he held it.“I could have easily solved all of this, I could have just gone to the fucking doctors and got all of this sorted before it got worse. But...but I didn’t want to end up like my parents.”

“Why?”

“Because they got sick towards the end of their lives. And although they were old, they were still too young to have died. I just thought...if whatever I have has come from them, and I have it now, I was scared that I would go too. And I couldn’t stand it if I left all of you, and I wouldn’t want to be a distraction from your work. Being a Shelby is hard enough, you didn’t need me to add to that pile of work.”

“You are not a distraction, and you are not another fucking problem I have to deal with. You are my family. I would rather be dealing with another mafia target than seeing you like this, stuck in a fucking hospital. That’s why we all told you to come here, to get better. You’ve got all of us here for you.”

“I know. I’ve been an idiot for not letting you all in.”

“Yeah, you have.”

A small laugh came out of both of us.“Tommy, am I going to be alright?”

“They haven’t gone into too much detail, but they assured me that you are no where near to death.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. It’s going to take a while, but they have the right treatment for you. But they said you have to take it easy, you must rest. So you won’t be coming back into work.”

“What? But Tommy-”

“I’ll cover your funds.”

“I can’t let you-”

“Yes you can, because I already have. And you’re also going to give us all a copy of your key, because I knew you wouldn’t want to be living anywhere else.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

My eyes cast down, suddenly embarrassed to say it.“I wouldn’t object to living with you.”

“With me?”

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want me around.”

“No, I do. I think I can cope with you.”

I smiled at him, squeezing his hand.“Thank you Tommy. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You won’t have to wonder anymore.”

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 9

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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[Ron]

"Okay. Let's talk," says Ron, throwing his arms down in defeat. "Go on, then."

"Not here!" exclaims Lavender, her eyes nervously scanning the restaurant where they're still drawing attention. "Not in front of people," she whispers.

"Where, then?"

'Your room."

Ron narrows her eyes at her. His room has to be the worst place for whatever conversation she wants to have. He has an inkling that her grievances will include 'don't you miss me?' and 'we're in Vegas, let's live a little' and being in a room alone with her and a king-sized bed is a very bad idea.

However, unlike her previous attempts to get him in bed, this time he has his eyes set on someone else, and her tricks won't work.

"Okay then," shrugs Ron. "Let's go to my room."

Lavender beams, and Ron reckons he should tell her to keep her pants on and her hopes down.

They leave the bar and continue up the stairs to his room, Lavender skipping by his side while her hand swings between them, almost begging for an accidental brush of his fingers. Ron crosses his arms in front of his body, wondering if his intentions were that obvious on the walk back to the hotel with Hermione, when he was painstakingly aware of how close his hand was to hers.

Panic sets in as they approach the door to his room. Did he ever clean up the whipped cream and champagne flutes from last night? Does he even care if Lavender sees?

His question answers itself when he opens the door to find that the room is spotless, thanks to the hotel's cleaning service, but his stomach sinks in disappointment. Maybe spotting the evidence that Ron really has moved on would have been a clear signal for Lavender to follow suit.

Immediately after entering the room, Lavender tumbles into his perfectly-made bed.

"Can you get off my bed?" he hisses.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Seriously. It's a bit weird, don't you think?"

She narrows her eyes, which are momentarily wet with tears, before making a dramatic show of getting up.

"Where can I sit, then?"

Instead of getting too comfortable, he'd rather she get straight to the point. "What do you need to talk about?"

"Nothing in particular," she says airily, taking a seat beside him on a barstool.

Ron rolls his eyes. "You just said—'

"I said, I want to talk. We never just talk anymore," Lavender says, as if that was a valid reason to drag him away from a very enjoyable afternoon at the bar.

"We never talk because we broke up."

"Right, and I want to make sure you have people to talk to. You know, confide in."

"Confide in?"

"Yes, Ron. Confide. I can tell you're stressed out. You're doing a lot for Harry and Ginny, planning this whole trip and everything. I just want you to know I'm here if you need a sounding board."

The way she bats her eyelashes at him and reaches her hand to his head to brush his fringe from his eyes sends tingles down his spine, and not the good kind. He sees right through this.

"I'm not stressed," he says, and it's true — he's not at all anxious about the trip. Hermione's done most of the planning, and thanks to her itinerary, things have been extremely smooth.

It's almost as if Lavender can see Hermione's name passing through his thoughts. "It looked like you were having a pretty intense conversation with Hermione Granger at the bar."

Ron doesn't like the sound of her full name in Lavender's voice. It makes Hermione sound like a stranger. Emphasizing the name instead of the person behind it sounds like an attempt to create distance, and Ron doesn't want to know what Lavender plans on justifying with that distance. Other than being a bully, of course.

He hopes his calculated response will get under her skin. "Yeah. 'Mione's great."

Ron's never used a nickname on Hermione before, but Lavender doesn't need to know that. Plus, he likes the way it sounds. Maybe he'll try it later, if she'll allow it, of course.

Without warning, his mind flashes to his bed, where his fingers are digging into her flesh as he grips her by the thighs to pull her writhing body hard against his erection. He's on his back, watching her ride him and freely calling her 'Mione' — moaning it, even. She bites her bottom lip and her breasts bounce with every thrust, her pleasure is evident by her arching back and hitching breath, and she doesn't seem to mind the nickname one bit.

Lavender's shrill voice pulls him from his ill-timed daydream. "I agree, she's great!" she says, her tone suddenly cheerful, like she's talking about a beloved college roommate. "I'm quite surprised by how much I like her. There's more to her than meets the eye, you know."

"Yeah, well, that goes for most people—" says Ron, now in two minds about diverting the conversation away from Hermione. What does she mean there's more to her than meets the eye?

There's not enough time to decide if it's worth humoring Lavender before she continues. "I'm just surprised that you two get along. You're like polar opposites."

He opens his mouth to respond but she interrupts.

"Oh of course! Football!"

"Football?"

"Yeah, she's a pretty big football fan, but you knew that, didn't you?"

He didn't know that, and as exciting as that news is, it makes him wonder how it didn't come up in conversation. She knows he's a football fan. Why has she never engaged him in a conversation about it? Ron shakes his head, refocusing on the present conversation. Lavender might be trying to get into his head.

"I'm sure most of it she picked up from Viktor, but still. She can probably carry on a sports conversation better than me."

Viktor. He knows that name. But it can't be… "Viktor?" he asks, unable to resist asking for more information.

"You know the one, that Bulgarian player."

He sure does. Viktor Krum. "Hermione knows Viktor Krum?"

Lavender scoffs. "Yeah. She dated him. For a long time," she says, reaching for his fringe again. Misreading the jealousy etched across Ron's face as confusion, she continues, "I was surprised too. He's hot. She might not look like much, but she clearly has no problem landing a really good football player."

To Ron's dismay, his daydream returns and he's back in his bed, pinned down by Hermione as she grinds on top of him. But this time, she answers to 'Mione' with a nickname of her own: Vicky. She screams that name when she reaches her climax, but it sucks the pleasure from the moment, and all Ron wants to do is fucking cry.

"Anyway, that's not really my tea to spill," says Lavender, shrugging innocently.

No it's not, he thinks. Although he wishes she didn't spill it, he's grateful she did.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asks Lavender, drawing her hand away and taking stock of his hollow expression.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he responds curtly.

"And we're good?" she asks.

Are they good? He doesn't know — he can't decide if she is manipulating him or not. All he knows is that he's suddenly self-conscious about having kissed Hermione, and curious how it compared to Vicky. He can't help but wonder if her disappointment in finding out she's married to Ron stems from the fact that she could have had anyone else — for example: an older, hotter, professional football player.

"We're good," he says. Lavender doesn't need to know any of it.

"Good."

An awkward silence encroaches as Ron waits for Lavender to leave, but she doesn't move. She looks like she wants to say something else.

"You know I still care about you, right?" she says eventually, breaking the tension.

"Of course," he adds, unwilling to say it back. He does care about Lavender, but he knows she wants to hear it too. It has to be a trap...

"I just miss my best friend. That's all." At that moment, she leans in so their shoulders are touching, and reaches her hand toward his exposed knee.

"Best friends don't sit this close," he says. His tone is colder than he anticipates, but that might be a good thing. It's probably necessary to get his message across at this point. "You should go, Lavender."

She lets out a shaky sigh, and Ron dares himself to look at her face. Her face is reddening, and her eyes water. She's not accustomed to rejection, especially not from him. "Walk me back?" she asks.

"Sorry, Lav. I really need a shower."

She opens her mouth to respond, but then snaps it shut, as if her automatic response was to flirt with him and invite herself to stay for the shower. Her face reddens and she looks away, his rejection fully catching up to her.

"Okay then. I'll see you at the bar later?"

"The bar?"

"Yeah, we're all getting together. Even Hermione," she adds icily.

Ron groans, shaking his head. He knew it. She fucking knows.

"Maybe," he says, avoiding her gaze. He then stands, stumbles into the bathroom, and slams the door.

She is so damn good at getting into his head. How does she know? And is that Viktor Krum stuff true?

There's only one way to find out...

He can vaguely hear Lavender huff as the bathroom door shuts, and he places his hands on the counter to gauge his reflection.

He looks like absolute hell. His skin is shiny and peeling, he has more freckles than he ever thought possible, and his hair is still dripping with sweat. Fuck the desert. How stupid was he, thinking that Hermione might have found him attractive in this state? She was probably relieved when Lavender settled into his lap at the bar; it was the perfect escape plan. Thanks to Lavender, Hermione didn't have to sit around and wave off unwanted advances from the weird sweaty guy she accidentally married — why would she want him when she was used to Viktor Fucking Krum? If it was true, that is.

He hears his hotel room door slam shut, and only then does he feel comfortable turning on the shower and stripping off his clothing, making a point not to look at his scrawny self in the mirror. Ron steps into the shower and groans as the cool water hits his sunburnt body, and forces his mind to wander far away from Hermione Granger.

When he's done, Ron steps out of the shower and towels off, still avoiding his reflection until he can't anymore. He ties the towel around his hips and stomps to his suitcase; maybe he owns something that can make him look somewhat desirable tonight.

He rummages through his clothing, settling on a royal blue button-down shirt and grey shorts. Lavender always says the blue brings out his eyes, and maybe she's right. He reluctantly makes his way back to the bathroom to check his reflection. The blue seems to distract from his reddened skin, and the structure of the shirt makes him look a little bit less lanky. Maybe he could catch Hermione's eye tonight, or, if she's truly not interested, he could attract the attention of someone else.

Someone else? The thought makes his stomach flip — he doesn't really want anyone else.

What would Hermione think if she knew that?

Ron leaves the bathroom, slips on his shoes, and after checking to make sure he has his phone, his wallet, and his room key, he turns out the lights and leaves.

Ron arrives at the hotel bar, and its new appearance leaves him momentarily confused. The bar has transformed from the quaint eatery where he and Hermione shared a round of drinks and appetizers just a short time ago to a bustling nightclub. The walls have come alive with flashy neon lights, which gives the portraits the illusion of movement. Just when he thinks this hotel can't get any more ridiculous, it seems he's proven wrong.

Previously an open-air eatery, the restaurant's doors are now blocked by a security guard standing his ground like a gargoyle. He checks Ron's I.D. then gestures to a sign on the door — something about no guns allowed on the premises.

"I'll have to pat you down."

"Uh, okay," says Ron, holding his arms out, while the security guard scans him for weapons. America's a strange place.

He enters the bar through a cloud of smoke, reminding him of a grade school stage production. People are everywhere, the music has shifted from acoustic tunes to electric pop remixes, and the place smells of cologne and alcohol.

Then he spots his sister at a large rectangular table across the dance floor. She waves him over and hands him a mystery cocktail.

"Drink this!"

Ron can almost smell the alcohol on her breath even though she's feet away. He glances over at Harry, slumped in a chair looking dazed and confused.

"You've gotten the party started quick, haven't you?" asks Ron as he brings the straw to his lips. The wave of guilt induced from the turtle-killing plastic straw is cut off by a slap of sugar and alcohol. "What is this?"

"Don't know!" says Ginny. "You're too sober!"

He decides her assessment is fair as he scans the crowd, looking for no one in particular, of course.

"Lavender's not here yet," croons Ginny, once she spots his eyes washing over the crowd. "If that's what you're wondering."

"It isn't," says Ron pointedly.

But then someone catches his eye. Hermione's at the bar, wearing a tight black dress that instantly makes Ron's shorts feel a size too small. Her hair is pulled back to display her gorgeous sun-kissed skin which looks shimmery and flawless, as if she's wearing a spot of make-up.

As far as he can remember, he's never seen her wear makeup before. Although she looks stunning all glammed up for the night, she didn't need to do any of it. It makes his heart swell and clench at the same time — there's something so vulnerable about Hermione doing hair and makeup for an evening out, and he even dares to wonder if he crossed her mind while getting ready.

If so, he hopes he will have the opportunity to tell her how beautiful she looks tonight. Maybe he'll even get a chance to say it again tomorrow, when all that makeup has been washed down his shower drain or even better — rubbed off by his bedsheets.

Ron gulps down the rest of the sugar-bomb masquerading as a cocktail, and makes his way toward Hermione. As he approaches her, his stomach clenches into knots at the memory of his conversation with Lavender. Viktor Fucking Krum. Is it true? Did they really date? Are they still shagging? It could be Lavender trying to get into his head, but he has to know.

"Hey, Hermione," he says as he reaches the bar. "Long time no see."

Hermione whips around and scowls at him. "What do you want?"

Ron takes a step back, baffled by her response. Did he say something wrong? Maybe she really was relieved to get rid of him earlier, and him approaching her now is the last thing she wants.

"Well, we were interrupted earlier, so I was hoping we could just pick up where we left off at the bar—"

"Oh really?" Her eyes are wide and suddenly angry — it almost wouldn't look out of place if they had turned crimson-red. "You want to pick up where we left off? And where exactly was that? With you staring down my shirt over a cocktail?" The rest of her words blend together, and it's then that Ron realizes she's had a bit much to drink.

Ron's face floods with color and his throat tightens. He steadies his voice to hide his hurt, but it only comes off as angry. "Hermione, are you okay? We should get you back to your room."

She opens her mouth to retort but is interrupted by a man's arm sliding over her shoulders. "Is there a problem here?"

The man is tall, muscular, and wears a smug smile that makes Ron want to punch him in the face. Although it's tempting, one glance at the man's ham-like hands stops him. Ron knows better than to start fights he can't finish.

"Who are you?" he asks instead.

"Cormac," says the man with a thick southern-American twang. "Who the fuck are you?"

Hermione leans into Cormac's arm as he slides a drink in front of her. Hermione immediately puts her mouth to the plastic straw and takes a long swig.

"Well listen, Cormac. I'm a friend of Hermione's," he begins, trying to emphasize 'friend' to convey how blurry their line really is. "She's had too much to drink, so I'm just going to take her back to her room safely now."

Ron reaches for her arm but is cut off by Cormac's hand. That's when he notices the large football tattoo on his forearm. Great. Another football player. Hermione has a type.

"I can do it," growls Cormac.

"No," says Ron. "I will."

"Can I have some water?" slurs Hermione toward the bartender, who instantly obliges.

"Mione," growls Cormac, and Ron's stomach sinks. He immediately wishes he could unhear the nickname slipping from Cormac's mouth — it sounds wrong in his seductive grumble, like he's appropriating a word from a language he knows nothing about. "Do you want to go back with this asshole, or with me? Remember, he lied to you."

"What are you talking abo—"

But Ron doesn't have time to finish his question before a wall of ice-water slams into his face, causing him to stumble back. Suddenly, he's alert, shell-shocked, and full of adrenaline. "What the FUCK?" he yells.

"You lied to me!" mumbles Hermione, now holding an empty glass of water, while Cormac watches on, wearing his smug but knowing grin.

"What are you talking about?" He turns to Cormac. "What did you tell her? And who the FUCK are you?" Ron's heart is pumping fast with anger, likely energized from the rush of ice water that when paired with the heat he's starting to grow accustomed to, has left him shivering from temperature-whiplash.

"Just a guy trying to get some action," says Cormac, quietly enough that Hermione, slurping away at the mystery cocktail that Cormac has so kindly purchased for her, can't hear.

Ron is seeing red. If Hermione's too far gone to care that she's drinking out of a plastic straw, she's too far gone to go home with this twat. The buzz from Ron's single but very strong cocktail is becoming apparent, and he feels like he can run a marathon. Instead, he channels his energy in the best place for it— Cormac's stupid face. Consequences be damned, Ron clenches his fist, winds up, and slams it right into his cheekbone, underneath his left eye.

Ron yelps — his buzzed and adrenaline-filled state isn't enough to mask the pain of his knuckles hitting hard bone, but luckily, his cry is drowned out by Cormac's, who clutches his head and stumbles a few feet back.

"What the hell?"

Before Cormac can retaliate, something, or someone, grabs Ron by the shoulders and shoves him away from the bar. "Get out."

It's the security guard from before, now clutching Ron's upper arm and leading him toward the bar's exit. "It's him that you have to worry about!" he says, trying to motion toward Cormac and Hermione, but he can't loosen the guard's grip on him to muster any gestures.

"Looked to me like you threw the punch," says the guard calmly, before pushing Ron out the door and slamming it shut behind him.

Well, fuck. Now what?

Ron rummages in his pocket for his phone, only to find that it won't turn on. How did he not think to charge it? He has to text Ginny, or even Harry, and warn them about Cormac. Who knows what that man is going to try with Hermione.

He shoves his phone back into his pocket and takes the stairs two at a time, with one goal in mind: find a way to keep Hermione safe.

[animebaby00]

I Don't Deserve It: Chapter 1

Summary: When Shoto gets a nasty stomach bug, Izuku stops at nothing to help and take care of him.

But Shoto can't help but wonder...

Why?

Shoto was used to his body's fluctuating temperatures, shifting from hot to cold, then back to hot. Sometimes an odd combo of both.

But when he woke up, he was warm, unbearably so and he knew it wasn't from his quirk...which he found strange.

It was very noticeable that this warmth was different. It was radiating inside and out, pulsing, thickly covering his skin. It was a heavy heat, pressing him down, increasing his rare drowsy state as he lay under the comforter of his futon.

He had to get up though. He had school. And he wasn't about to let the touchings of a slight fever prevent him from doing so.

A slight fever. Yeah, that's all it was. Once he was up and moving he would be just fine. He'd had fevers before. He's powered through them in the past. He had too, because if he dared show any sign of weakness…

Shoto shifted around under his covers, stopping to clench his eyes shut as a spiking pain shot through the front of his head. It stung his temples and traveled over the entire surface of his scalp down to the base of his neck.

A headache ? What the hell ? He just woke up. Why was he getting a headache now?

The pressure drummed through his skull and rattled his brain. It felt like his head was trapped in a hydraulic press. His room was still dark and he was lying down, yet for some reason, he felt very dizzy

God it hurt. Maybe he should stay-

No. Stop that.

Your fine. You're strong.

That's what the little voice in the back of his head told him. And he listened to it. With a soft grunt, he sat up despite his body's protests and stood, gathered his things and left his room, convinced that a cold shower would knock him back to his senses.

~~~~~~~

Turns out, that was a mistake.

When he arrived at the bathrooms, he was relieved to see that there wasn't anyone in there. The idea of chattering voices as everyone got ready didn't sound appealing at all, especially with a pounding headache. It made sense though, as he was usually one of the first ones up in the dorms as well as one of the few males who showered in the morning.

He had kept the water on cold in the hopes to relieve the uncomfortable, feverish feeling on his skin. It felt nice in the beginning, but after a few minutes, his body had strangely broken out into a violent chill, causing the pain in his head to increase.

He then opted to turn the heat of the water up in the hopes to cease his body's shudders. But it wasn't working. Shoto found himself leaning against the wall of the shower several times as the pulsing of blood in his ears grew more extreme.

Every bone in his body ached, every muscle felt tight, especially his stomach which now carried an uncomfortable, heavy feeling that he couldn't place.

After coming to the conclusion that a shower of any temperature wasn't going to help, Shoto shut off the water and grabbed a towel, jaw clenched tight from his chattering teeth. And he found himself unable to stop.

He took careful steps in getting out of the shower, drying himself off as quickly as his tired limbs would let him and proceeded to get dressed.

That proved to be a challenge too.

He almost lost his footing in slipping on his pants, had issues buttoning his dress shirt due to his trembling fingers, and even before he was fully clothed, his body started to grow warm again as if the chills never existed.

Shoto wiped at the sweat that had beaded on his forehead, bewildered at it's presence since it had only been a few minutes since he had gotten out of the shower. Why the hell was he so hot ?

Maybe it was just because he was closed in a heated, small space, considering that the bathroom wasn't very wide. It was more long due to the strip of sinks and showers right next to each other. And there was an additional warmth to the room due to the final few minutes of his hot shower that had caused some steam to fog up the mirrors.

He just needed to get out of there. Then he'd be fine.

Shoto turned his head around towards a hook by the shower to grab his tie and uniform jacket, and it was there that everything took a turn.

He didn't even move that fast, but everything around him started spinning, his line of vision turned fuzzy, and he could feel his stomach do a backflip. He stumbled, just barely catching himself on the edge of the sink. His heart thumped in his ears as he braced the edge of the sink with his sweaty palms, inhaling deeply through his nose.

That was close.

Carefully, he eased himself up, resting his forearms on the sink's counter. He raised his head, and for the first time, got a real, good look at his reflection.

Though the mirror was still foggy, he could make out the continuous perspiration dripping from his forehead and neck. His heterochromatic eyes were dull and outlined with dark circles. His skin was pale aside from his cheeks and tip of nose, which were blushed a bright, splotchy red.

He looked terrible.

And he felt terrible.

But that didn't matter. Heroes didn't take time off from things like this. And he'd be damned if news got to his dad that he stayed home because of a small fever. He would never hear the end of it.

"Haven't you learned anything?" Endeavor would ask him, "We don't let insignificant things like this get in our way. This isn't how heroes act. We don't show our weaknesses. Are you going to let people die because of some fever? Stay home in bed while they struggle and suffer? Let everyone down again?" 

No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. 

With a deep inhale, Shoto pushed himself away from the counter, but wobbled forward back against it as his vision once again began to swirl.

His insides churned with unease and he clenched his stomach with his free hand, grimacing.

And it was then that he heard a knock at the door. 

"Hello ? Anyone in there ?" A voice sounded from the other side. 

Shoto cursed under his breath and forced himself to stand up straighter, his head highly disagreeing with the action as it thumped against his skull.

"Y-yeah. Come in." 

The door opened, and Shoto recognized the individual immediately, his mop of fluffy, green hair a dead giveaway. 

"Oh ! Good morning Todoroki !"

Shoto had to keep himself from hissing in pain at the tone of his friend's voice. It's pitch just the tiniest bit too high.

"G-good morning, Midoriya…"

He mentally scolded himself on how weak his voice was, but it's as if the freckled teen didn't notice as he nonchalantly walked over to one of the sinks.

"You're up early." Midoriya chided, grabbing his toothbrush from the holder, "Then again, you get up pretty early every morning. Even on weekends."

"Y-yeah." 

The green haired boy beamed, and Shoto watched as he opened a drawer and grabbed a tube of toothpaste.

"Ah, I forgot ! We should probably get downstairs sooner than usual. It's Sato's turn to make breakfast and I heard that he's going to make homemade pancakes !"

Shoto's eyes widened drastically at his friend's sudden mention of food, and the idea of it made the rest of the color drain from his face, gut gurgling violently as an overwhelming feeling of nausea took over his senses. He had no choice but to cover his mouth.

No. He was not going puke. Not here. 

Not in front of Midoriya.

"Knowing him, I bet they'll be amazing! Ah, he could put blueberries in them, or maybe chocolate chips! I can't wait!"

Shoto inhaled a shaky breath through his nose. He felt so sick, and he deeply wanted to tell Midoriya to stop talking about food. But he felt that if he opened his mouth, something other than words would come out instead. 

He shut his eyes as Midoriya rambled on, trying to quell the growing, nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it was traveling quickly. It was growing beyond his control and he could now taste a metallic like sensation on his tongue, which felt thick and heavy like wet cotton. 

He shivered, hand gripping the sink tighter, and let out an involuntary, tensed groan from the back of his throat. It sounded quiet to him, but maybe not as quiet as he thought. For after the sound of it breached the air, the bathroom went silent, and a cool hand could be felt sweeping his bangs aside.

Shoto opened his eyes slightly. A pair of green orbs were staring back at him, filled with concern and worry. 

"Todoroki ? Are you okay?" Midoriya asked softly.

In that moment, Shoto felt obligated to lean into his touch and admit defeat. The feeling of Midoriya's fingertips alone against his heated skin compared to that of pure bliss. He wanted to say that he wasn't okay.

However, he didn't do that. Instead he pulled away in an attempt to walk towards the door of the bathroom, but his body acted completely against him. He stumbled and fell forward, prepared to make contact with the floor. 

But he didn't.

Instead, he fell into a pair of arms, slightly smaller than his, but warm, strong, and comforting as a voice barked desperately into his ear.

"T-todoroki !" The ill boy groaned, pressing his lips together sourly as a new sensation stormed over his body. He fell numb, and it was then that he could feel something warm creeping up his throat.

"Todoroki ! Y-you're burning up ! " Midoriya exclaimed, pressing a hand to his friend's forehead, "What's wrong ? Are you not feeling well ?"

Midoriya didn't receive an exact answer of "yes" or "no". Only a mumble and an action, but  it was enough to prove his claim as correct. 

Shoto's eyes had widened once more at the question, a low "M'gonna be sick…" leaving his lips before he turned a practically flung himself towards the toilet. 

His hands fumbled with the lid, and once he pushed it up, his body immediately convulsed and he pitched forward. His stomach tightened in on itself in a painful, sharp heave. His mouth became coated in thick, bitter saliva, before he threw up forcefully into the toilet. 

Shoto's hands gripped the toilet's rims so hard that his knuckles stung. Every muscle in his body was shaking with each gag, his digestive system showing him absolutely no mercy as wave after wave of vomit poured out of his mouth. 

It was acidic. The smell burned his nose, and just nauseated him more and more to a point of no end. It was absolute agony...save for one thing.

"It's okay Todoroki...I'm right here." Midoriya's voice sounded calmly, palm on Shoto's sweaty back" You're okay...just let it all out."

Though each heave and convulse was painful, Midoriya's words and soothing hand rubbing his shoulder blades and hand holding back his hair brought a small sense of comfort...but it also brought humiliation. 

He felt pitiful like this, weak and trembling on the floor of a bathroom while someone was there…

Watching him.

Helping him. 

Half of Shoto wanted to push Midoriya away, say that he could handle this himself. But the other half...felt like he couldn't function or deal with the situation if Midoriya left his side.

And that was the side that won. At least for that moment. 

Several more minutes went by before Shoto finally had the opportunity to pull his head out of the toilet to catch his breath, but he didn't feel much better. 

In fact, he almost felt worse. 

His body was sticky, covered in sweat which caused his clothes to mesh to his skin rather uncomfortably. He felt hot and icky all over. His mouth carried the remnant taste of vomit, bitter, sour, and absolutely disgusting. His muscles hurt terribly, as if he had just got done with a 24 hour workout session. His stomach was mostly empty, but it burned and ached from the aftershocks of his endless dry heaving. 

And he was dizzy. 

Very dizzy. 

Unable to keep his head up, he let it fall forward to rest on the rim of the toilet.

Shoto could feel his consciousness slowly slipping away. His eyes were heavy, darkness dotted his vision, and Midoriya's voice and the feeling of the cold porcelain toilet against his cheek were the last things he remembered before he was out cold.

[kingofthewilderwest]

This hasn’t been a good year for me first I was stalked then I lost someone who I thought was a friend because my mental health issues caused me to impulsively lash out at people I been apologizing and apologizing they refuse to listen to me all they told me was get outside help. The thing is I was there for them when they needed me but when I needed them they abandon me I am autistic and have trouble regulating my emotions I explained that to them when they told me that I keep lashing out at people even after I apologize for it. :( what should I do? Should I just just keep spamming how sorry I am and that I will keep my mouth shut and not lash out at people anymore I just want them to like me again I don’t like lashing out at people I have no control over that why can’t they understand? How many times do I need to cry in their inbox until they realize how sorry I am and that this time I won’t lash out impulsively.

Hello, friend. <3 I'm really sorry for the struggle and pain you are going through. That's tough. My heart reaches out for you. I was in an extremely similar experience once (I'll talk about the experience and results below), so I both care about your situation, and I hope my message can help you with your choices moving forward. My phrasing might sound blunt, but every word is written with love, and I will give comfort through the end, so bear with me. Sorry that I suck at brief. XD

From the way you’ve described your situation, you’ve already been messaging friend(s) repeatedly explaining your actions, giving apologies, etc. My answer is under the assumption you’ve been sending repeated messages. Here’s the unfortunate kicker.

You need to stop messaging them. Period.

If you want them to feel better and feel better about you, you need to give them space for a decently long period of time without breaking that silence once, it doesn’t matter if your desired topic is helpfully explaining how you tick, apologizing, or talking about something entirely unrelated to the drama.

I know that's probably the hardest thing to do. I know for me, when I was in a situation like this, every fiber of my being *SCREAMED* at me to try to make things right by messaging again. I was so terrified I couldn’t leave it alone. I understand how scary it can be for someone to not listen to your apology. I understand the drive to get someone to understand your circumstance for why you messed up. I understand the overpowering pressure of guilt for having done something wrong and the itch to keep acting until I make it right. But you can't make it right by messaging someone repeatedly.

While your intent is reparation, your result is harassment. I'm so sorry to say this, but if you’re messaging like that, you are continuing to inflict pain and make matters worse because your constant messaging gives them no relief. It’s like constantly picking a scab to make it bleed again rather than letting it heal without touching it. If you pick that scab too much, you’ll lose more blood and you’ll get a scar. Lots of people, after being hurt, need time to process their emotions before they can be comfortable resuming a chill conversation. So long as you keep acting like this, they aren't going to want to listen to you, and your actions are going to make them wish they weren't around you. They’ll see you in a worse light because if you can’t give them time and space to heal themselves and you can’t stop fixating on past events, then they see that you’re not handling the situation well.

Now. If you do talk to them again, after that *LONG* break, there are several things you have to do. Ask if it’s okay to talk first and be clear it’ll be a one-time event. Be rational, be calm, be objective, accept responsibility for yourself without trashing yourself or sounding desperate for their response, and make sure you acknowledge their feelings and experiences as much as your own. Accept responsibility for yourself in your words. Make sure you listen to them, too, and respect their thoughts. 

I know that’s hard to do. I can get scared, tongue-tied, and emotional in conversations like this. The way I get around that is writing down what I’m going to say beforehand. That way, I can spend several days carefully tweaking my words so they’re optimally diplomatic (and have someone else check me if I need a second perspective). Now I have a script I can follow that can prevent me from tumbling into babbling emotion. “I’m sorry, I’ll keep my mouth shut, I just want you to like me again” will turn more people away, unfortunately. People don’t trust that because it sounds like you don’t have control of yourself, which makes them think more bad things could happen. Level-headed but kind discussion of the issue is essential; it shows you are *capable* of handling the situation. Showing capability helps engender trust. Also, please make it clear to your friend(s) that once this convo is done, the goal is to move on.

Note that your friend can say “no” if you ask to talk. And that’s okay. If they say “no,” leave it at “no,” and don’t try to get a “yes.” Your friend can still say “no” to points you make during your conversation. Those aren’t the words you want to hear but you have to accept them if they come. Stay humble. Do not try to get them to fully be in sync with you because that may be impossible and only hurt everyone more. All you can do is present yourself at your best; after that, it is their choice how they respond, and their responses must be accepted. If they are bitches, that’s on them, and you’re better off not being friends with shitty-ass uncaring bitches. If they choose not to be friends with you for understandable reasons, it hurts, but it’s valid; we do not have to be friends with every person we meet, even if they’re cool. And if they choose to forgive you, which they could too, then you guys have a basis to move forward again without reopening cans of worms. I do want to reassure you: I’ve had plenty of conversations like this go well and friendships get repaired. <3 It can be done.

Now. You said you feel your friends aren’t helping you at your time of need. I understand the pain of supporting a friend but the friend doesn’t reciprocate at the time I need them most. This was hard for me to learn, but: a friend is not obligated to help you. Yes, good friends will help when they can. Yes, if you’re only helping them and they’re nevvvvvvver helping you, that’s a one-sided relationship and that’s a bust. But healthy relationships also have boundaries and “no”s. It’s not a contractual obligation to help a friend through everything. Plus, not everyone has the skillset to help you for every need. Friends who are not used to neurodivergence might not know how to handle neurodivergent-specific challenges (that’s what I’ve experienced with my own support networks). You can explain it and hopefully they’ll get better about understanding how you tick, though. There’s even types of friends who understand how you tick but still not want to be around it, and sometimes that’s because they have to protect their own health. They can understand you lash out but still need to leave to heal themselves because lashing out hurts them, and they don’t have the energy or emotions to help or listen to you right after. They have enough on their plate trying to keep themselves going without assisting someone else too. Those things can happen. You may find out what type of friends yours are later.

And I know it’s really hard to regulate emotions... I’m saying this as someone who had extreme issues regulating my emotions due to neurodivergence and mental illness, albeit of different kinds... but ultimately mental health is an explanation, not an excuse, and you are still responsible for the results when you are cognizant enough to act well enough. You are valid for being autistic and that is not a problem, that is who you are period, and if they don’t respect that, that’s their issue. Explaining why you act like you do is a first step. It’s good to communicate and I think it’s good you want to your friends to know why it’s hard. But you do have to work at getting better with your treatment of people, too. Sometimes we do things outside of our control. Sometimes these will never be in our control. But some things will be in our control. Part of our responsibility as a friend is to not just admit we hurt someone in the past when we’re at our worst and least controllable, but make an effort, as we can, to prevent these things in the future, as we can. Figure out prevention tactics. Figure out ways your friends can be equipped and prepared if something happens. Find professionals who can help you with emotional regulation. And so forth.

Your friends do have a point about getting outside help. I love supporting my friends and helping them through emotionally dark times, but sometimes a friend’s mental health struggles are out of my abilities and I can’t be expected to be the one to handle it. I cannot help my friend with heart surgery because I am not a heart surgeon; likewise, sometimes I can’t help my friends with mental illness ailments because I am not a professional psychologist. If it is within your budget, this may be a valuable resource for you that will help you, your friends, and more.

If you’re anything like I was, what I said may make you want to go into another round of apologizing, but before you do that (you shouldn't! you can't!!!!), I want to explain what happened to me. This involves me talking about the worst period of my life, the worst mistakes I ever made, and the worst legacy I'll have to contend with. I haven't talked about it on tumblr because I haven't wanted people to misread me or judge me, but the truth is, those old mistakes are a defining characteristic of my everyday life because of how thoroughly I fucked up and hurt someone else by my desire to "make things right."

I was eighteen and sharing a dorm room with my high school significant other. We broke up several months into the school year. At first things were okay, but then our friendship started to slide. We both did foolish things and wrongdoings against each other. The result was my ex needed breathing space to heal, whereas I felt I needed to heal by coming closer to them. As you can see, these are opposites, and it... didn’t work. It resulted in me pestering them and them wanting to get further from me.

I was also suicidal at the time. I had undiagnosed ADHD and rejection sensitive dysphoria and maybe more, and all that put me in the worst psychological state of my life. My emotions were more powerful than I could control. I had no coping mechanisms yet. My diary entries sometimes don’t sound... sane... from that time period. Being suicidal, I begged my ex for help, and my ex said “no”. My ex was rude and cold (understandable... hard to be polite when you’re stressed), but still, she had a right to say “no.” No one is obligated to do anything, but I was extremely emotional at her denial. Terrified for my life, I tried telling my ex that I had helped HER through HER problems when SHE was depressed, why the fuck wouldn’t she help me with my low point? I felt like she abandoned me and I told her so. I was intending to suggest she was breaking a promise and being an uncaring, unfaithful friend... but my words came out sounding like I was guilt tripping. My friend felt emotionally abused, forced into a situation where someone was threatening their life if she didn’t do what I said.

That’s a lot of pressure on someone, a roommate screaming at her that she had to do X or someone would die. It’s a cruel thing to shove someone into. I did that. I did it accidentally, my only intentions were making amends and saving my life, but I’m still 200% responsible for the results. It destroyed her psychologically, and ten years later, I don’t think she’s fully recovered.

When I recovered from the worst of my mental illness lapse, I felt sick to my stomach about how much my emotional responses harmed her. Thus began my rounds of apologizing. At first she coldly “tolerated” it, but I couldn’t leave it alone because it didn’t feel like closure. She outright told me she would never forgive me and that made me more desperate. About once every six months for the next three years, I tried talking to her. She felt harassed. She increasingly hated me. Soon, she thought I was stalking her, and sent the start of what could’ve become legal action against me. One time, I tried talking to her about something entirely unrelated (I was trying to save a friend who was having panic attacks and my ex was unknowingly responsible for the panic attacks), I panicked, I grabbed her arm, she threatened to call the police on me, had the teacher drive her home from class, and the next thing I knew, we were both in the university’s Office of Student Conduct. Oof.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

For the rest of my life, I will have to contend with the fact I fucked up the person I loved the most, and that the best thing I could ever do to help her was... to... leave... her... be.

If I had let my friend breathe after my first apology, if I had given my friend space to process through her hurt emotions until she no longer felt hurt, we might have been able to rekindle a friendship. But I never gave her the time to heal. I never respected her “no, stop talking to me.” My apologies were intended to make her feel better because I knew I was hurting her, my apologies were intending to say “I’ll never hurt you again!” But instead I kept digging a deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper hole.

I realize this is a dismal story. I don’t want to scare you. I want you to read this private story of my pained heart to understand what happens when I let desperation do all the talking. I want to share it to show how much I care for your situation. And I want you to understand that... after I learned taking a step back... I had radically better results with the friends I got into conflicts with. It took a ton of effort and work to retrain my conduct, but it worked, and I’ve found stabler and happier and relatively drama-free relationships. And if I fuck up for some reason mental-health-wise, it’s usually a single conversation and done to get us back on track.

I fuck up, but I’ll never fuck up like that again, never ever EVER, nowhere CLOSE. And that’s a... happy ending in its own right, yeah?

I do believe in you. I believe that not every story has to end like the one between my ex and me. I want to give you that hope. I believe you have a good heart and you definitely want things better. You wouldn’t have messaged me (and I believe... others... on tumblr?) if this didn’t matter to you. And anyone who wants to do something about a problem has the starting kernel of Betterness happening. I believe you can find more peace. Maybe it won’t come right away and maybe there’ll be rocky points, but life can become better, relationships can become better. There are ways, even with mental health struggles, to find that comfortable equilibrium again.

I wish you the best, friend. Take care. <3 Rooting for you. I apologize if any of my words ended up coming out wrong accidentally. I really do hope you find some relief in this situation. <3