#i'm weak and fatigued and exhausted and dizzy

[sapphire-weapon]

update: i am Unwell

[valkyriexo]

You Faint | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Fainting due to Dehydration and being busy, mentions of not eating, mentions of not drinking water, kissing, Implied Female reader, Established relationship

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

In the flurry of your responsibilities as a personal assistant to the CEO of a massive corporation, every second counts, every task critical to the smooth functioning of the business. Despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach and the parched feeling in your throat, you soldier on, driven by the need to ensure that everything operates seamlessly for your employer.

Hours blur together as you navigate the demands of the corporate world, your own needs pushed to the sidelines in the relentless pursuit of success. The weight of expectations presses down on you with each passing moment, propelling you forward even as exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you. You don't have time to notice the way your limbs grow heavy with fatigue, the world around you fading into a distant blur as you push yourself beyond your limits.

But as the day wears on, your body begins to rebel against the neglect it's been subjected to. Dizziness clouds your vision, a warning sign of the toll the day's exertions have taken. With every step, your limbs grow heavier, protesting against the punishing pace you've been maintaining.

And then, without warning, it all becomes too much. Your vision blurs, black spots dancing at the edges as dizziness overwhelms your senses. Your knees buckle beneath you, unable to support the weight of your weakened body, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, darkness claims you.

As consciousness slowly seeps back into your awareness, you find yourself nestled on the plush couch of the CEO's office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Your head throbs with the remnants of your fainting spell, a dull ache echoing through your skull.

Blinking groggily, you glance around the room, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. To your surprise, you find yourself surrounded by two or three other assistants, their faces etched with concern as they hover nearby, murmuring amongst themselves.

"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asks, her voice laced with worry as she kneels beside you, her hand hovering over your forehead. "You gave us quite a scare there."

You nod weakly, the events of the day slowly coming back to you in fragmented pieces. "I... I think so," you mumble, your words slurred with exhaustion.

The other assistants exchange worried glances, their concern palpable in the air. "You should rest for a bit," another assistant suggests, her tone gentle as she helps you sit up, offering you a glass of water.

Taking a sip, you feel the cool liquid soothe your parched throat, the sensation a welcome relief. As you lean back against the cushions, you're grateful for the support of your colleagues, their presence a comforting reminder that you're not alone in your struggles.

"Thanks," you murmur, offering them a weak smile. "I appreciate it."

"We were so worried about you," one of them says, her voice filled with genuine concern. "You gave us quite the scare."

You offer a weak smile, still feeling disoriented and unsure of what happened. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your words barely audible.

Another assistant nods sympathetically. "We called for help," she explains gently. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."

You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Called for help." you repeat, the words sinking in slowly.

Your mind feels foggy, memories hazy and fragmented, making it difficult to grasp the severity of the situation. The concern in the assistant's eyes only adds to your growing sense of unease, prompting a knot of anxiety to tighten in your chest.

Before anyone can elaborate further, the door to the CEO's office swings open, and Chan rushes in, his expression a mix of panic and relief. "I got here as fast as I could," he says breathlessly, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You swallow hard, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. They called Chan, your emergency contact, before they even called the paramedics. You feel a pang of guilt knowing that he's here now, worrying about you, when you hadn't wanted to burden him.

As Chan rushes to your side, his expression a mix of relief and concern, you can see the worry etched into every line of his face. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to grasp yours, his touch both reassuring and desperate.

"I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I fainted, I think."

Chan's eyes widen with alarm, his grip on your hand tightening. "You fainted?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. Chan's concern deepens, his brows furrowing with worry. "Do you know why?" he asks gently. "Did you eat today? Drink enough water?"

You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the guilt of neglecting your own well-being weighing heavily on you. "I... I may have forgotten," you admit sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

His expression softens with understanding, but a flicker of frustration dances in his eyes. "Y/N.."

"I just didn't have time," you whine, feeling the weight of his disappointment settle over you. "I have deadlines to meet, and it's been really busy here with the CEO prepping for a major partnership with another company. Plus, I'm in line for a promotion, Chan. If I do well, it's almost guaranteed. But if I fail, then I have no shot."

Chan's expression doesn’t give much away, but his resolve remains firm. "It's not that important," he insists, his tone gentle but firm. "There will always be other opportunities. Your health should come first."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Not everyone can lead and be super talented like you, Chan," you argue, your voice tinged with emotion. "Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up."

"I know it feels that way," he says gently, as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. "You're already doing more than enough," he assures you, his gaze unwavering. "But your health should never be sacrificed for success."

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words settling over you. "I know," you whisper, your voice heavy with resignation.

Chan's hums at your response, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before he reluctantly withdraws. "Let's go home," he says gently, " You need rest."

With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch, your legs trembling beneath you as the full extent of your exhaustion becomes apparent. Chan's eyes widen in concern as he notices your struggle, his expression softening with empathy.

"Here, let me help you," he says, moving to your side and slipping an arm around your waist for support.

You lean into him gratefully, feeling the warmth of his embrace. With Chan's steadying presence, you manage to make your way out of the CEO's office and towards the elevator, your fatigue pressing down on you with each step.

As you reach the lobby, Chan guides you towards the exit, but when you attempt to take a step forward, your legs buckle beneath you, weakened by fatigue. Chan's eyes widen in alarm, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he catches you before you fall.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You nod weakly, feeling embarrassed by your inability to stand on your own two feet. "I'm just... really tired," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, Chan sweeps you up into his arms, his strength a reassuring presence against your exhausted frame. "Let's get you home," he says softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nestle into his embrace, feeling safe and secure in his arms as he carries you out of the building and towards the waiting car.

Once you're settled into the car, Chan drives you home with careful attention, his concern never wavering as he steals glances at you from time to time. When you finally arrive at your apartment, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

As you enter the cozy sanctuary of your home, Chan guides you towards the couch. However, he senses your hesitation, the way you lean heavily on him as if struggling to keep your balance.

"You need to rest," he insists softly, his voice laced with concern as he helps you settle onto the cushions. Despite his gentle urging, you remain silent, the weariness evident in every line of your body.

"I feel gross," you finally murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, admitting to the discomfort that weighs heavily on you.

Chan's brows furrow with worry, his gaze searching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. Seeing your distress, he nods in understanding.

"Would you like to take a shower?" he suggests gently, his tone filled with empathy. He waits patiently for your response, ready to provide the support and comfort you need

You shake your head slowly, a feeling of exhaustion washing over you. "I don't think I have the energy," you confess, feeling a pang of guilt at the admission.

Chan's expression fills with empathy as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "That's okay," he reassures you, his voice soft and comforting. "Why don't we start with something smaller? Like washing your hair?"

You blink back tears, starting to feel overwhelmed. "I just... I feel so drained," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

Chan nods sympathetically, his gaze filled with compassion. "I understand," he says softly, his words a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay?

As Chan helps you make your way to the bathroom, you feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at your limbs. With his steady support, you settle on the edge of the bathtub, feeling drained and weak. Chan kneels beside you, his gentle hands reaching for the shower head. His concerned gaze meeting yours.

"Lean back," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet bathroom. You obey, allowing your head to rest against the edge of the tub as Chan pours the water over your hair, the liquid cascading down in a comforting stream.

The sensation of the warm water against your scalp is both soothing and revitalizing, washing away the weariness that has settled deep within your bones. Chan's touch is tender, his fingers massaging your scalp with care as he works shampoo into your hair, creating a rich lather that fills the air with a subtle scent of eucalyptus.

As Chan tenderly tends to your needs, a wave of helplessness crashes over you, leaving you feeling small and useless. The inability to perform even the simplest tasks on your own gnaws at you, a constant reminder of your vulnerability. You watch as Chan effortlessly takes care of everything, his competence highlighting your own shortcomings.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you struggle to suppress the rising tide of frustration and self-doubt. "I hate feeling like this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the bitterness of inadequacy.

"Like what?" Chan's voice is gentle, his concern evident as he seeks to understand you.

"Helpless," you confess, the word heavy with emotion.

Chan notices the heaviness in your sigh and the sorrow in your eyes, and his heart aches with empathy. Leaning closer, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

"You're not helpless, love," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You're just taking a break. Everyone needs a little help sometimes, even superheroes like you."

His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with love and understanding.

"You're my baby," he whispers, "And I'll always be here to take care of you, no matter what."

As Chan rinses the shampoo from your hair, the water running clear and pure, you feel a sense of renewal wash over you. With each gentle stroke of his hands, you can feel your energy slowly returning, a flicker of hope igniting within your chest.

When the task is finally complete, Chan reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your shoulders with care. He helps you to stand, guiding you away from the bathtub.

"Let's dry your hair a bit so you don't go to bed with it wet," he suggests, his lips forming a shy smile. He grabs a hairdryer, carefully adjusting the settings before starting to blow dry your hair, the warm air a comforting embrace against your skin.

As he works, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, the sound of the hairdryer a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Chan concentrates intently, his brow furrowing as he focuses on the task at hand. His brow furrows in concentration, his lips pursed in determination as he attempts to weave the strands of your hair into a braid. With each failed attempt, a mixture of frustration and amusement flickers across his features, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.

You can't help but find his earnest efforts endearing, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you watch him work. The sound fills the small bathroom, mingling with the gentle patter of water droplets.

"Where did you learn to braid?" you ask, genuine curiosity in your tone.

Chan looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I've been teaching myself," he admits, his fingers still fumbling with the strands of your hair. "I thought... one day, when we have kids together, I want to be able to braid their hair. I want to be the kind of dad who can do that."

His vulnerability touches your heart, and you reach out to gently squeeze his hand, a tender smile playing on your lips. "You'll be an amazing dad," you assure him, your voice filled with love and admiration. "And you're already an amazing partner."

"I want to be better,"he says softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For you."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips are soft against yours. As he pulls away, his eyes shimmering with adoration, he presses another tender kiss to your forehead before returning to his task.

"You did great," Chan whispers, his voice filled with pride and admiration, as he guides you to your bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, comforting light across the room as he fusses over you, fluffing pillows and tucking blankets around you until you're cocooned in warmth.

With gentle hands, he arranges the pillows behind you, ensuring you're propped up just right for maximum comfort. He tucks the blankets snugly around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring as he ensures every corner is tucked in securely.

After making sure you're settled, Chan disappears into the kitchen, the faint clinking of dishes drifting through the air as he prepares your meal. Moments later, he returns with a tray laden with food – a simple yet nourishing meal, prepared with love.

The aroma of home-cooked food fills the room, mingling with the soft scent of freshly laundered sheets. Chan sets the tray down on your bedside table, arranging the dishes with care before settling in beside you.

As you eat, Chan sits close by, his warmth radiating beside you. He regales you with stories and jokes, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy and ease. Each tale is punctuated by his infectious laughter, and despite your weariness, you can't help but smile at his antics.

As you finish your meal, feeling the warmth of the food spreading through your body, Chan rises from his seat beside you, his movements fluid and graceful as he clears away the dishes. The clinking of plates and silverware fills the air as he tidies up, his attention to detail evident in every gesture.

Once the dishes are cleared, Chan returns to your side, settling in beside you on the bed. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, soothing away the remnants of tension that linger in your muscles.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. Chan presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch a silent reassurance that everything will be okay.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. As he speaks, he guides your hand to his chest, letting you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath his shirt.

"Every time you're in pain or in danger," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like my whole world stops."

You feel a lump form in your throat, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "It wasn't on purpose."

Chan shakes his head, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go. "I know," he says softly. "But I need you to promise me something."

"What?" you ask.

"Promise me that you'll always try your best to care of yourself," he says, his tone earnest. "Promise me that you won't push yourself too hard, that you'll listen to your body and prioritize your health."

You meet his gaze, seeing the depth of his concern reflected in his eyes. With a nod, you offer him a small smile, filled with gratitude and determination.

"I promise," you vow, your voice steady with conviction.

Chan's eyes soften, a tender smile playing on his lips. "And I promise in return," he says softly, "to always be there when you need me, or a little extra help."

He settles back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you're both comfortable. As you nestle into each other, Chan reaches for the remote control, flicking through the channels until he finds a movie that catches your interest.

The soft glow of the TV bathes the room in a warm, flickering light as the movie begins to play. You rest your head against Chan's chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat getting faster beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of the love and stability that he brings into your life.

As the movie unfolds, you lose yourself in the story, the worries and stresses of the day fading into the background. With Chan by your side, you feel safe and at peace, cocooned in a bubble of love and warmth.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[janluxe]

I'LL COMFORT YOU — CALEB/XIA YIZHOU

–content; pure fluff and period comfort

–summary; he's there for you even during the hardest moments of your life (i needed the comfort)

–w/c; 503

"Does it hurt?" Caleb walked back into the living room, balancing two places on his arm before setting them on the table in front of you. "I've brought you some ibuprofen." He mumbled as softly as he could.

You had been curled up on the couch of his apartment for what felt like hours. Fatigue consuming both your mind and body; eyes fluttering closed and your mind losing focus, the pain in your abdomen being the only thing that kept you up.

A weak hum was the only sound you could let out, and that was enough for him to understand the situation.

"I'm dizzy," you admitted, cringing the moment you heard the sound of your voice but even more from the fact that you felt weak, despite your best efforts at gaslighting yourself.

He was well aware. Caleb had always been the kind of man who pays enough attention to notice every toss and turn in the middle of the night, every miscalculated step. "I know, my love." He murmured in the softest tone he possibly could as his hand carefully pulled the blanket over your back.

If he wanted anything right now, it'd be for you to find some peace in your own body so you could catch on some sleep.

"I'll bring your heating pad." A gentle kiss on your temple before he left you alone for a bit.

You frowned, staring at the food set on the table. He had prepared two of your favorites, a main course and a dessert –trying to keep both light and exclude any unnecessary dairy products to help out with the nausea, he had read– and it smelled amazing. That's where the issue was. While everything looked appetizing, you felt your stomach turning and making your day even more difficult than it already was.

So you reached for the medicine, washing it down with water as quickly as you could to avoid the bitter aftertaste it left in your mouth. You sat up properly as soon as you felt a shiver run down your spine, becoming hyperaware of how the blanket felt on your body and how the pill slid down your throat.

"Everything's gonna be okay." His words can't do a lot, but having him by your side is comforting enough than doing this alone. "Just hang on for twenty minutes or so." His touches were so gentle that you barely felt him placing the heating pad on your aching abdomen, allowing you to adjust it freely to your liking.

The comforting sensation of warmth always helped get you back on your feet. Plus, you had Caleb by your side to rub your back or feed you as slowly as you needed instead of letting you eat on your own.

"Take it easy," All that was left now was exhaustion and a softly-hummed lullaby in the room in an attempt to soothe you to sleep. Which worked while you nestled in his embrace, "I've got you, pipsqueak... there's no reason to stress."

–a/n; it feels like hell. cancel shark week. Thank you for reading, and have a nice day/night ♡

[aspenmissing]

Can you make them comforting a reader who is sick and vomited? I'm not having a good afternoon. I just got sick and vomited. Now I can't eat anything. 😞

ɪɴ ꜱɪᴄᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴍᴇʟ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 6234 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʙᴇɪɴɢ ꜱɪᴄᴋ/ᴘᴜᴋɪɴɢ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ! ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴍᴇʟ

JAYCE

You didn’t hear him come in.

The bathroom light buzzed faintly overhead, casting a tired yellow glow across the walls. You lay curled near the toilet, cheek pressed to the cold tile floor, your breath shallow and uneven. Each muscle in your body trembled with exhaustion. The taste of bile still lingered on your tongue, metallic and bitter, but at least the heaving had stopped—for now.

You closed your eyes, the world gently tilting around you as your stomach turned again in protest. You barely registered the sound of the front door clicking shut. But then there were footsteps—soft, quick, purposeful.

And then hands. Warm and familiar, gently sweeping your hair back from your damp forehead, careful not to startle you.

"Hey," Jayce’s voice was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of voice he only used when he was scared but trying not to show it.

You blinked blearily, your vision swimming as you tilted your head toward him. The words you meant to say—I’m fine, or maybe just hi—caught in your throat, swallowed by another wave of nausea and fatigue.

"I came home early," he said softly, crouching beside you. His large hand brushed your clammy temple with slow, soothing strokes. "Mel said you missed lunch… and your meeting with the Council aid rep. You should have called me."

You wanted to explain, to tell him that you'd meant to go, that you just needed five more minutes this morning to fight the dizziness—but then five became fifteen, and then came the vomiting, and you never made it out of bed.

"I didn’t want to bother you," you mumbled weakly, your voice cracked and hoarse. You hated how small it sounded.

Jayce gave a quiet, breathy laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re never a bother,” he said, with a kind of firm tenderness. “Not to me. Not ever.”

He shifted beside you, easing one arm behind your back and the other under your knees as he helped you sit back slowly. You groaned softly at the movement, your stomach flipping uneasily, but he was patient—moving like you were made of glass.

From somewhere behind him, he reached for a towel, gently dabbing at the corners of your mouth. The cloth was cool and damp, and you leaned into the touch instinctively, sighing as he wiped your chin.

"Here," he said, lifting a glass of water to your lips. “Just small sips.”

You drank slowly, your hands too weak to hold the glass yourself. He supported it the whole time, not once letting go of you. When you nearly gagged halfway through, he paused and whispered, “It’s okay. We’ll try again in a minute.”

"You’ve got a fever," he murmured after a moment, more to himself than you. His hand touched your forehead again, then he leaned in to press his lips against it. That old habit of his—measuring your temperature with nothing but a kiss. He always said he could tell better than any device. You never argued.

"Mm," you managed. It was all you could say. Talking felt like trying to swim through wet concrete.

He shifted again, lowering himself to sit fully beside you on the bathroom floor. The tile didn’t seem to bother him as he wrapped both arms around you, gently pulling you against his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heart under his shirt, the slow, even rhythm anchoring you. You closed your eyes and let your body relax against his.

His fingers brushed circles over your back. “You’re burning up,” he said. “You should’ve told me.”

You said nothing. You didn’t need to. He already knew.

"Come on," he whispered after a while, resting his cheek against the top of your head. “Let’s get you off the floor. I’ll carry you.”

You shook your head faintly, voice barely audible. “I’ll get the sheets dirty…”

Jayce tilted his head down, lips pressing into your hair with a gentleness that made your heart ache. “I don’t care about the sheets,” he said softly. “I care about you.”

You didn’t protest again. You didn’t have the strength, and you knew he wouldn’t leave you here—not even for a second.

With a careful strength, he scooped you up in his arms. You felt the shift of his muscles under your body, the ease with which he held you, like you were never a burden. Your cheek found the warm spot between his shoulder and neck as he walked, slowly, into the bedroom.

He laid you gently down, pulling back the blankets and tucking you in like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. His fingers lingered on your face, brushing along your cheek before adjusting the pillow under your head.

You watched him through heavy eyes as he moved around the room, cracking the window open just enough to let in the evening breeze, dimming the lights. He lit a candle on the nightstand—lavender and bergamot—and then returned to your side, kneeling beside the bed.

"Let me stay tonight," he said, voice hushed. "I’ll get soup, tea, anything you want. I’ll sit up and read if it helps you sleep. Just… don’t push me away when you need someone.”

You blinked at him slowly. The exhaustion was pulling at you again, but his words wrapped around you like another blanket. Warm. Steady. Honest.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Jayce smiled, the kind of smile he gave only you—tired, but full of love. He leaned in, kissing your hand, then rested his forehead gently against your arm.

He stayed right there as your breathing slowed. And long after you drifted into fevered sleep, Jayce remained—his fingers laced with yours, a silent promise not to leave your side.

VIKTOR

Your forehead was clammy, your skin pale, and the bile in your throat tasted bitter as you heaved into the bucket beside the bed again. Your whole body trembled with the effort, cold sweat clinging to your back like a second skin. It felt as though your stomach was twisting itself into impossible knots, your limbs heavy with the weight of sheer exhaustion. You barely had the strength to hold yourself up.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes—not just from the pain, but the helplessness, the vulnerability of it all. You hated this. Hated being seen like this.

From the hallway, you heard the unmistakable tap-thump of Viktor’s cane echoing closer, a steady rhythm that had long since become a part of your life. Comforting. Familiar. The sound of someone who always came back. Who always stayed.

The door creaked open gently.

Viktor stopped in the doorway, his tall frame bathed in soft golden light from the wall lamp behind him. His eyes—those warm, intelligent, amber eyes—softened immediately the moment they landed on you, hunched over and shivering beneath the weight of your own misery.

“Y/N…” His voice was quiet, hesitant, heavy with concern. You heard the guilt in it too, as if he blamed himself for not being there sooner, as if your pain was something he should’ve prevented.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your trembling hand, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry,” you croaked, voice raw from vomiting. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

He stepped into the room slowly, every movement measured. His cane tapped the floor with each step, a sound you loved, but now it only filled you with a dull ache—he wasn’t in the best shape himself, and yet here he was, coming to care for you.

Viktor set a warm cloth on the bedside table, then crouched down with a soft groan, his knee trembling slightly as he balanced himself. His hand reached for yours, steady despite the weakness in his legs. He helped you lie back down with infinite care, as if you might break from anything more than a whisper’s touch. Then his fingers moved through your hair, brushing the damp strands away from your forehead with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“You do not have to apologize for being ill,” he murmured, his accent thicker in the quiet. “That’s a silly thing to be sorry for, moje láska.” (My Love)

You winced as another wave of nausea rolled through you. “I look awful.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, the corner of his lips twitching with the ghost of a smile, “I still think you are the most beautiful thing in this room. Even if the bucket might be trying to compete.”

Despite everything, you gave a weak, hoarse laugh that ended in a groan. “Don’t make me laugh,” you whimpered. “Everything hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, lips brushing your temple in a feather-light kiss. “No more jokes. Just rest.”

The mattress dipped slightly as he sat beside you, careful not to jostle your body. His hand found yours and squeezed gently, his thumb brushing soft, grounding circles into your skin. His other hand still gripped his cane, the muscles in his forearm tense. His knuckles were pale with strain—he was likely hurting too. You knew how much standing and walking took out of him.

“Vik… you should lie down. Your leg must be killing you.”

“It is,” he said softly, voice never one to hide the truth from you. “But you come first. Always.”

You looked at him, eyes glassy, heart full to bursting. He wasn’t even wearing his coat—he’d rushed to you the second he’d heard the sound, hadn’t he? There were tiny specks of ink on his fingers and a faint burn mark on his sleeve, probably from an unfinished experiment he’d abandoned the moment he realized you were in distress.

He stayed with you like that for what felt like hours. Through every sick spell, every wave of nausea that sent you lurching forward again, Viktor was right there—kneeling beside you, one hand stroking your back while the other held your hair back gently. He didn’t flinch at the mess. He didn’t hesitate. He whispered things in your ear, soothing and soft—nonsense things, sometimes, just to keep you grounded.

“I hate this,” you whispered afterward, throat sore and eyes rimmed red. You leaned your head against his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.”

Viktor turned slightly, resting his chin on top of your head, his fingers still intertwined with yours. “But I want to,” he said simply. “Loving you does not stop when things are difficult. If anything, it becomes more important then.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by emotion. He made it sound so easy. Like love was something that never once made him flinch.

You turned your head and looked up at him, eyes watery. “I love you.”

Viktor brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers, one by one—slow, reverent. “And I, you. Always.”

And with the soft lamplight casting golden shadows across the walls, and the quiet hum of Piltover drifting in from beyond your window, Viktor kept watch beside you through the worst of it. Not as a genius inventor. Not as the man burdened by pain and iron limbs. But simply as someone who loved you more than anything.

He didn’t need to be strong for the world tonight. Just for you.

And that was more than enough.

JAYVIK

The Piltover promenade glittered with early evening light, all gold-brushed stone and the hum of upper-city chatter. Café patios brimmed with the scent of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries, the clinking of porcelain and silverware blending into the refined music of city life. The three of them had only meant to take a short walk—a breath of fresh air after Y/N had spent nearly a week tucked indoors, their body recovering, too slowly, from whatever virus or condition had knocked them flat.

But the moment Y/N staggered to the side, hand clutched to their stomach, Viktor felt it like a ripple under his skin.

“Y/N?” he asked softly, his voice edged with immediate concern, already stepping closer.

They didn’t answer—just lurched suddenly toward a hedge flanking the promenade, knees buckling as a choked sound escaped and they retched violently into the thick greenery.

“Y/N—!” Viktor’s cane clattered against the stone walkway as he dropped into a crouch beside them, heedless of the curious stares beginning to gather. His hand was gentle but firm as he brushed back sweat-damp hair from their face, his other hand moving in slow, careful circles across their back. “Shhh, it's alright. Just breathe. Let it out.”

Jayce was only a few steps behind, but the shift in him was immediate. His usual boyish charm vanished behind a steel-jawed protectiveness. In one smooth motion, he stepped in front of them, his tall frame shielding Y/N entirely from the view of the promenade. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. He wasn't just standing there—he was guarding them.

A pair of enforcers slowed as they passed, glancing curiously toward the trio. A woman at a café table a few feet away leaned slightly out of her seat for a better look. Jayce caught her eyes and didn’t blink. His posture didn’t change, but there was something in his gaze that made the woman quickly sit back down and pretend she hadn’t been watching at all.

Behind him, Y/N gave a weak cough and slumped forward slightly, breath still shallow and uneven. Viktor steadied them immediately, murmuring soft things only they could hear. He reached into his coat and pressed a folded handkerchief into their palm, fingers curling around theirs with infinite gentleness.

“I told you,” Viktor murmured, brushing their cheek with the back of his knuckles, “it was too soon to go walking around.”

Y/N groaned softly, guilt threading their voice. “I just—I didn’t want to stay cooped up again… It’s been days.”

“I know,” Viktor whispered, leaning closer, his lips near their temple. “And I understand. But next time, we listen to the person with the cane and two degrees in human anatomy, yes?”

Jayce glanced over his shoulder then, and his expression softened when he saw Y/N’s pale, flushed face. “Hey,” he said gently, his voice low enough to cut through the noise around them, “can you stand, sweetheart?”

Y/N nodded slowly, shakily.

“I’ve got you,” Viktor said first, already adjusting to support them with one arm as he stood, leaning subtly on his cane this time. His bad knee trembled with the effort, but he didn’t let go. Wouldn’t.

Jayce stepped in at Y/N’s other side without hesitation, his large hand pressing warmly against their lower back as he took some of the weight off Viktor. “We’re taking you home,” he said firmly, no room for protest. “I’m making you soup. Viktor, you’re on cuddle duty.”

Viktor raised a brow. “Again? I was on cuddle duty last time.”

“Yes,” Jayce said, utterly deadpan, “and you’re the favourite. We both know it.”

Y/N gave a faint laugh—thin and breathy, but real—and leaned into both of them, grateful for the solid warmth on either side. “What about your lecture prep?” they asked, voice hoarse.

Jayce scoffed. “It can wait.”

“So can mine,” Viktor added softly.

Between the three of them, they began the slow walk back toward the Academy district, away from the bushes, away from curious eyes and awkward stares. They moved carefully, Viktor’s cane tapping gently against the stone with each step, Jayce subtly guiding the way forward with an occasional glance back at Y/N.

The city continued on around them—refined, polished, indifferent—but in their little pocket of the world, there was only the rhythm of their footsteps, the silent understanding passed between warm hands and steady arms.

They had each other.

VANDER

The retching had woken him first.

At first, Vander thought it might be one of the kids—Mylo had a weak stomach, and Vi wasn’t exactly gentle with her midnight snacks—but when the low, painful sound carried from the other side of the bed, all his drowsiness was gone in an instant.

"Y/N?" he whispered, reaching out blindly.

The bed beside him was cold.

A chill shot through his chest as he sat up sharply, the blankets falling away. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and rose to his feet, bare steps quick and quiet over the floorboards as he padded toward the tiny washroom tucked in the corner of their room. The sound came again—wet, wretched, miserable—and it cut through him like a knife.

“Easy now, I’m here,” he said softly as he reached you, crouching beside you just in time to wrap an arm around your back. Your whole body trembled as you leaned over the basin, heaving, and he held you with steady hands, his palm broad and warm against your spine.

You were fever-hot and clammy, your skin pale and damp. Each breath came shallow and uneven.

When the wave finally passed, you slumped sideways against him with a hoarse whimper. “Sorry…”

“None o’ that,” Vander murmured, voice low and full of quiet, aching tenderness. He brushed your damp hair back from your face, pressing his forehead to your temple for a moment, grounding you both. “Come on, love. Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?”

You gave a small, exhausted nod, and he lifted you into his arms without hesitation. You felt too light. Lighter than he remembered. It had snuck up on him—this slow ebbing of your strength—and now it wrapped cold fingers around his ribs, squeezing tight.

He cradled you like something sacred as he carried you across the creaky floorboards, holding you close to his chest as if his heartbeat might lend you some of its strength. His arms were strong, but there was a quiet desperation in his touch tonight—like he was afraid you might slip away if he loosened his grip even a little.

He eased you down onto the mattress with all the gentleness he could muster, tucking the worn, patched blanket around your shoulders. His calloused hand brushed over your cheek once more before he leaned in to press a kiss to your brow.

“I’m gonna fetch you some water,” he whispered. “Won’t be long.”

You murmured something—his name, maybe, or just a hum of acknowledgment—and he lingered a moment longer, brushing his thumb over your knuckles before rising.

The rooms above the Last Drop were quiet at this hour, only the old walls settling and the distant hum of Zaun’s night breathing through the pipes. He padded down to the tap behind the bar, filling a glass with water, watching it swirl under the low flicker of lantern light. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing through his nose. He’d ask Babette to track down a medic in the morning. He knew you’d tell him it wasn’t necessary—that you’d “be fine”—but he’d never been one to gamble when it came to the people he loved.

He turned and headed back upstairs. When he reached the room, the door was ajar. He paused, frowning slightly.

=

Inside, soft whispers and hushed shuffling greeted him.

And there they were—all four of them.

Vi was perched at the foot of the bed like a sentry, knees drawn to her chest and fists clenched, jaw set in a fierce kind of worry. Mylo stood awkwardly just behind her, arms crossed tightly over his chest, trying his best to look unimpressed but failing miserably. Claggor knelt on the floor beside you, leaning close to murmur something into your ear—something low and sweet and earnest. Powder, smallest of them all, had curled up beside you, her tiny frame moulded to yours, her blue hair resting against your shoulder like it had always belonged there.

Your hand—trembling, but still trying—rested atop Powder’s hair, fingers absently threading through the strands like it brought you comfort, too.

Vander stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, the glass in his hand forgotten. The lump in his throat was sudden and fierce.

They must’ve heard you. The retching, the movement. Maybe it had scared them. Maybe they just sensed something was wrong in that uncanny way children did. Either way, they’d come without hesitation.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Vi asked, her voice low and tight as she glanced back at him. She wasn’t the kind of kid to admit fear easily—but he could hear it there, plain as day.

Vander stepped inside, quiet but steady. He set the glass down on the nightstand with a soft clink and knelt beside the bed again, one hand reaching to brush another damp strand of hair from your face. Your eyes fluttered open at his touch, tired and glassy but soft with recognition.

“She’s just feelin’ a bit sick, that’s all,” he said gently. “She’ll be alright.”

“She threw up,” Mylo stated plainly, still hovering.

“That happens to people sometimes,” Vander replied, calm and patient. “Doesn’t mean it’s something to panic about.”

You tried to smile at them all. It was weak, but it was there. “You all didn’t have to come,” you rasped.

“Yeah, we did,” Powder whispered. “You always come when we have nightmares.”

“‘S not a nightmare,” Claggor murmured. “But it kinda feels like one.”

Vander exhaled slowly, the air thick with emotion he couldn’t quite voice.

He sank down onto the edge of the bed beside you, his weight making the mattress dip as he drew you closer, arm slipping around your shoulders. With his other arm, he reached over and pulled Powder into him gently.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his voice rough with affection. “One cuddle pile. Just for a bit. Then you lot are going back to bed.”

They didn’t argue.

Vi edged closer, climbing up and lying at your feet, guarding the end of the bed like she was ready to fight off any more bad dreams. Mylo took a spot beside her, his fidgeting finally stilling as he settled. Claggor stayed kneeling, head resting against your blanket-covered side. Powder wrapped herself tighter against you, her tiny hand reaching out to curl around Vander’s thumb.

And you—safely surrounded, loved, protected—you closed your eyes again. There was a peace to it now. A stillness. Like even the fever had softened in the face of so much warmth.

Vander laced his fingers with yours beneath the blanket.

He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring—illness was always a dangerous thing in Zaun—but in that moment, he let himself believe. That you’d stay. That this quiet pile of mismatched hearts and broken souls would still be whole by morning.

SILCO

The scent of damp stone and iron hung heavy in the cramped room tucked behind Silco’s office, thick with the faint metallic tang of blood and the sharp bite of oil from machinery nearby. You barely registered it, your senses dulled by fever and exhaustion. Your head throbbed fiercely, every heartbeat a drum of pain in your temples. Sweat clung to your skin, cold beneath the coarse fabric of your shirt, slick and uncomfortable. The violent churn in your stomach seized you suddenly, and you doubled over, fingers clutching at your knees as the sickness overwhelmed you once more.

Silco was there before you even hit the floor, catching your trembling frame with surprising speed. His arms, usually so unyielding and hard-edged, held you gently but firmly. The basin he’d fetched earlier rested against your lips, and you let the nausea spill out, your body wracked with dry heaves and bitter bile. You hated being seen like this—weak, pale, pathetic. The sickness stripped you bare, vulnerable in a way you weren’t accustomed to, especially around him.

But Silco never flinched, never looked away. His face was unreadable, but the softness in his eyes betrayed the depths of his concern. There was no disgust. Only quiet care.

“Easy,” he murmured, voice low and steady, the same rumble that usually carried iron will and cold commands now softened—almost reverent. His gloved hand came up slowly, cradling the back of your neck with a tenderness you didn’t think him capable of. Fingers threaded through your sweat-damp hair, steadying you. “Breathe, dove. It’s over now.”

You panted, worn out and spent, your forehead pressed against the cool edge of the basin. Your throat was raw and sore, eyes fluttering as the room swayed. “I—I’m sorry,” you croaked, ashamed.

“Don’t.” The single word was firm but gentle, as if speaking to something fragile. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Silco reached for a cloth dampened from a small bowl nearby and wiped the corners of your mouth with slow, deliberate care. His thumb brushed over your cheek, tracing away a tear you hadn’t even noticed. You closed your eyes, sinking into the warmth of his touch, a grounding force against the storm inside you.

When you tried to stand, the world tipped dangerously. Without hesitation, his arms wrapped around your waist, steady and sure, pulling you back to him. “Back to bed,” he ordered quietly but without question, lifting you as if you weighed nothing, with a tenderness no one else ever saw from him.

You tried to protest, voice weak and breathless. “You’re busy...”

His jaw clenched—an old habit, but this time there was no edge of irritation. “You are not a distraction,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “Not to me.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide and tired, and saw something rare in his gaze—something almost soft. The man who commanded armies, who ruled with calculated cruelty, now moved with delicate care as he laid you down on the narrow bed.

He pulled the blankets up around you carefully, tucking the fabric beneath your chin and smoothing the covers over your trembling form. His hands lingered a moment on your forehead, cool and comforting despite the roughness of his skin. Then, as if double-checking, he adjusted the pillows behind your head, careful to keep you propped just right so you could breathe easier.

“The man who could order deaths without blinking,” you thought, “now fretting over whether my feet are warm enough.”

“You should sleep,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay.”

“Don’t you have—”

“I’ll stay,” he interrupted, his voice firmer this time, no room for argument. “You need rest. I’ll be right here.”

You watched silently as he pulled a chair close, scraping it across the stone floor until his knees almost touched the edge of the bed. One by one, he unbuckled his gloves and laid them gently on the side table, bare hands now reaching for yours. His fingers were calloused but careful as he cradled your hand, bringing it up to his lips with a tenderness that stole your breath. He pressed a kiss to your fever-warm knuckles—an intimate gesture, quiet and profound.

“Zaun can wait,” he murmured, voice heavy with meaning, as if speaking not just to you but to himself. “You come first.”

And for the first time that night, the sickness inside you began to lose some of its power—not because the fever had broken, but because of the man beside you. The man who stayed, who watched over you like a sentinel in the shadows, brushing back stray hairs when you stirred and murmuring soft reassurances when your eyelids fluttered with restless dreams.

Silco—the hardened chembaron, the ruthless freedom fighter—loved you. And when you were at your lowest, when the world felt cruel and your body betrayed you, he did not look away. He stayed.

JINX

The narrow alley reeked of damp and rotting refuse, the kind of stench that clawed at Y/N’s stomach and made her nausea twist sharper. She barely made it this far before the sudden wave of sickness hit like a punch to the gut. With a sharp, ragged breath, she doubled over behind a row of rusty, dented bins, clutching her mouth as bile burned its way up and out.

Her skin felt clammy and slick with sweat, even though the shadows of the alley kept the air cool. Each breath came sharp and shallow, rattling in her chest like dry leaves in the wind. Her legs trembled uncontrollably beneath her weight, threatening to buckle. When she wiped the sour residue from her lips with the back of her trembling hand, the bitter taste lingered stubbornly, like a bad memory she couldn’t shake.

Somewhere not far off, the faint sound of humming floated toward her — a careless, almost cheerful tune that sounded impossibly out of place in this grim corner of Zaun.

“Oi! Y/N? You there?” Jinx’s voice rang out, light and teasing, threaded with that ever-present hint of mischief.

Y/N forced herself to straighten, swaying like a ship caught in a storm. A few unsteady steps later, Jinx rounded the corner, a half-empty bottle of scrap liquor sloshing in her hand. Her wild blue eyes immediately caught sight of Y/N’s pale, sweaty face and softened.

“What the hell are you doing in this dump?” Jinx crouched down beside her friend, her voice low but edged with concern. “You look like you just saw a hextech spider crawling right outta your stomach.”

Y/N managed a weak, crooked smile, fighting the dizziness threatening to topple her. “More like I just swallowed one, and it’s trying to claw its way back out.”

Jinx snorted softly but didn’t push further. “Alright, talk to me. What’s up?”

“I think I ate something dodgy,” Y/N rasped, her voice hoarse and brittle. She took a shaky breath, then suddenly a glint of mischief sparked in her tired eyes despite the queasiness. “Or maybe… I’m a little pregnant.”

Jinx’s eyes shot wide open, her mouth dropping in exaggerated shock. The playful outrage poured out, loud and fast: “Pregnant?! Who the hell knocked you up, huh? Tell me right now, or so help me—”

Y/N cut her off with a shaky laugh, clutching her stomach as a fresh wave of nausea rolled over her, dulling the joke for a moment.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” Y/N managed, though her voice wavered slightly. “I’m just… sick, that’s all.”

Jinx’s gaze sharpened immediately. The teasing vanished, replaced by sharp concern as she studied Y/N’s pale face, the clammy sweat, and the subtle tremble in her hands.

“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so hot, Y/N,” Jinx said softly, voice rougher now, like she hated seeing her friend like this.

“I’ll live,” Y/N lied, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. “Just… give me a minute, yeah?”

Jinx didn’t budge. She stayed crouched beside Y/N like a sentinel in the shadows, scanning the alley for any threat, but really just waiting.

“You’re lucky I like you, you dumb idiot,” she muttered, a half-smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

Y/N reached out, bumping her shoulder lightly against Jinx’s, drawing a small comfort from the contact. “Thanks. Just… promise me you won’t go hunting down some poor sap on my behalf, alright?”

Jinx let out a low, throaty laugh, shaking her head. “No promises. But for now, you better rest up. I’m sticking around till you’re done pukin’ or whatever. Can’t have you falling over alone in a ditch.”

Y/N gave a tired but grateful smile and leaned back against the cold brick wall. Despite the sickness twisting inside her, having Jinx there — loud, wild, impossible to ignore — made the whole world feel a little less dark, a little less miserable.

“Deal,” she whispered.

For a long moment, the city’s distant sounds fell away, and the two friends sat in silence, sharing a quiet pocket of peace in the chaos of Zaun.

MEL

The gala was a shimmering spectacle of opulence, a glittering sea of silk gowns that caught the light like liquid starlight, polished shoes tapping softly on the marble floor, and the hum of genteel conversations weaving through the air like a delicate symphony. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, casting a warm, golden glow that softened the sharp edges of the grand hall and made the world seem almost dreamlike.

Mel stood near the edge of the room, an island of calm in the midst of the grandeur, her eyes flickering across the crowd with the vigilance of a seasoned huntress. She wore the weight of the evening lightly, but every muscle in her body was attuned, every nerve alert—not to the politicians or wealthy patrons gathered here tonight, but to the presence beside her.

Y/N.

They stood close, just enough for Mel to feel the faintest warmth radiating off their skin, but something was off. The usual spark in Y/N’s eyes was dimmed, replaced by a fragile mask of composure that didn’t quite reach their lips. The smile they wore was too practiced, too tight — like porcelain stretched too thin, ready to crack.

Mel’s gaze dropped to Y/N’s face, noting the subtle sheen of sweat on their brow, the way their skin looked almost translucent under the soft candlelight, as if illness was quietly gnawing at their strength. A small, almost imperceptible tremble shook Y/N’s hand as it lifted a glass to their lips. The motion was slow, deliberate, but Mel’s sharp eyes caught the faint twitch of discomfort that flickered across their features the moment before they swallowed hard, trying to steady themselves.

Mel’s heart clenched.

She could see it—the battle Y/N was fighting behind those guarded eyes. The urge to stay poised and perfect in this sea of watchful eyes, even when their body was screaming otherwise.

The music swelled softly—a lilting violin melody that seemed almost cruel in its serenity.

And then the inevitable happened.

A sudden tightening twisted through Y/N’s stomach, sharp and unforgiving, shattering the fragile veneer they had been holding so carefully. Their knees buckled slightly, and before Mel could react, a dry, choking sound escaped Y/N’s lips, the first violent heave shaking their body.

“Y/N,” Mel said immediately, her voice low and steady, reaching out to catch them as they swayed unsteadily. Her arms curled around their waist without hesitation, strong but gentle, a lifeline.

“We need to get you out of here,” Mel said, her tone urgent but calm, eyes never leaving Y/N’s face as she guided them toward the exit of the grand hall.

The noise of the gala faded behind them—the murmurs, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—replaced by the cold, sterile silence of the marble corridor leading to the bathrooms. The distant echo of their footsteps was the only sound, the world reduced to this narrow path, this urgent journey away from the dazzling crowd.

=

Inside the bathroom, the harsh fluorescent lights flickered above, stark and unyielding compared to the soft warmth of the gala. The cold tiles beneath their feet did nothing to soothe Y/N’s fevered skin, which was now pale and clammy to the touch.

Mel gently eased Y/N down onto the closed lid of a toilet, steadying them with hands that trembled despite their efforts to stay composed. Y/N’s breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, the color draining from their cheeks even as their lips parted in a weak smile of apology.

Mel knelt behind them, slipping an arm under Y/N’s shoulders to support their weight. Her other hand moved to brush back damp strands of hair that clung to Y/N’s forehead, tucking them gently behind an ear. She felt the rapid thrum of Y/N’s pulse beneath her fingertips, quick and uneven.

Then, as if the last of their strength gave out, Y/N leaned forward, their body convulsing quietly as they vomited into the porcelain bowl. Mel’s fingers tangled in their hair, holding it back with careful tenderness, her thumb brushing soothing circles on the side of Y/N’s face.

“Shh,” Mel whispered, voice thick with something between relief and sorrow. “It’s alright. I’m right here.”

The room was still except for the soft sounds of Y/N’s body releasing the sickness, and the steady warmth of Mel’s presence behind them. Y/N’s shoulders shook with exhaustion and shame, but Mel’s hold was unwavering, a solid anchor in a storm.

When Y/N finally straightened, leaning back against Mel’s chest, breath shaky but slowly easing, Mel tightened her arms, pulling them closer. Her cheek rested against the crown of Y/N’s head as she whispered softly, “You don’t have to pretend, love. You don’t have to hold yourself together for anyone—especially not here.”

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered open, eyes glassy but filled with gratitude. They reached up, curling a weak hand around Mel’s wrist. “I’m sorry,” they murmured, voice small and vulnerable.

Mel shook her head, lips curving into a soft, reassuring smile. “Don’t be. You’re human. You’re everything to me.”

For a long moment, they just sat there—two hearts beating quietly in the harsh fluorescent light, wrapped in a cocoon of shared warmth and silent understanding.

Finally, Mel’s voice broke the stillness. “Let’s get you home. You don’t need to face this alone.”

Y/N nodded, leaning fully into Mel’s embrace as they stood. Mel wrapped a protective arm around their waist again, guiding them back through the corridor—not to the gala, but away from the glittering illusion, toward the place where Y/N could rest, and where Mel would be there to care for them until they were whole again.

[space-mermaid-writing]

Janora. Nora bear. Nora sweetest. Dearest Janora. May I kindly request something with magical exhaustion? Perhaps a post-battle crash?

Your writing is a gem btw! 💖

Kitty. My dearest Kitty Cat. You beautiful being. I kiss your forehead. Of course you give me such a tasty prompt ♥ I had so many ideas for this. You know I love a good 'magic caused problems' prompt. Beta by @harpywritesfic because this trio is iconic

Ko-Fi | Read it on AO3 | Word count: 0.7k

Stephen stumbled through a portal back into the Sanctum. He felt drained, as if all the strength had been sucked from his body. As he struggled to stay on his feet, he was grateful that the Cloak of Levitation took most of his weight and gently held him upright.

Even the walk towards the couch felt like a challenge, while reaching the bed in his room upstairs seemed far too ambitious for him in his exhausted state.

“Stephen? Are you all right?”

The unexpected voice cut through the haze of his fatigue, causing the sorcerer to whirl around in surprise. There stood Tony, framed in the doorway of the library, take-out bags in hand, his expression concerned. He had probably come over for one of their usual lunch date-... meetings; unfortunately, the engineer's timing was rather bad.

“I'm fine,” Stephen muttered just as a dizzy spell washed over him and the world around him began to spin. It took all his willpower to stay on his feet.

“Uh-huh, somehow I don't believe you.” Tony placed a reassuring hand on the sorcerer's back to steer him towards... somewhere. When did Tony get so close? Had Stephen briefly blacked out?

“Are you injured?” The engineer's words held layers of concern.

Stephen shook his head. Speaking required too much energy at that moment, and every fiber of his body was screaming to save the remaining strength until the moment Tony finally left. Even now, he was adamant about hiding his weakness, unwilling to show just how vulnerable he truly felt.

Either Tony hadn’t noticed the subtle shake of his head, or he simply didn’t believe him, because he turned his attention to the Cloak with the same question. “Red? Any injuries he's trying to hide?”

The Cloak, with its own sentience, must have provided some form of reassurance. Whatever its answer was seemed to ease some of Tony's worry. “At least there’s that,” the engineer murmured, a hint of relief creeping into his voice.

“'s fine.” Stephen didn't even realize he repeated himself. But he felt like he had to defend himself. After all, between the three of them – himself, Tony, and the Cloak – he was the expert in magic and a trained medical doctor. Yet, the confident image he usually tried to maintain was jeopardized by his obvious exhaustion. It was strange to have so little control over his own situation at that moment.

Tony finally maneuvered him onto a soft surface, and a relieved sigh escaped Stephen's lips. Blinking – he hadn't even noticed that his eyes had become heavy – he realized this wasn't the couch. They had somehow made it all the way to his bedroom. Again, the sorcerer wondered when they had covered that distance. There were stairs. He must have been in and out.

Tony sat at the edge of the mattress and watched him with an intense attention that should have made Stephen uncomfortable. Then, without warning, Tony's eyes widened abruptly, a flash of alarm crossing his features. “Shit, your nose is bleeding.”

“'s just magical exhaustion,” Stephen managed to explain. “... need rest.”

The bleeding nose was a common side effect of his magical overexertion, a minor inconvenience that would resolve on its own in due time. At least he wasn't puking black goo this time.

Tony gently dabbed the sorcerer's face with a tissue. Stephen's barely cohesive words did nothing to ease his mind. “Would it help to get some nutrition into you?” he asked. The question was well intentioned, for Tony had learned over the years that Stephen often forgot his own needs when he immersed himself in his work. Pot and kettle, indeed.

“Sleep first,” Stephen replied, the words barely audible. Did he even say them aloud, or were they merely thoughts drifting through his mind?

He glanced over to his pillow as he tried to estimate how far he had to move to reach it. But that small movement turned out to be too much for him. The next moment his eyes rolled back and he blacked out.

[melpomenelamusa]

Danger in the forest Pt. 1 - Chimeras

~Original story~

Previous

CW: Magic exhaustion, fainting, captured, bound and gagged.

Elafi watched the vines beginning to climb one of the wooden columns of the fence surrounding the orchard. They were thin green threads with a few budding leaves. Elafi observed them closely, as if they were the only thing that existed in the world.

"Grow."

The small vine stretched, winding itself further up the column, clinging tightly to the wood. Elafi kept watching, holding the persistent command in his mind. The vine kept climbing. Its stem thickened, and multiple leaves sprouted. The wood creaked.

Suddenly, Elafi felt his vision blur, and a ringing sound pierced his ears. He didn’t know when he lost his balance, and he would have fallen to the ground if someone hadn’t caught him and helped him sit carefully on the grass.

"Elafi, are you okay?" Fidi’s worried voice reached his dizzy mind. "You look like you’re about to faint, and your nose is bleeding."

Elafi blinked several times, trying to clear the spots from his vision and stop his head from throbbing. Something wet slid over his upper lip. He felt nauseous.

"I'm... f-fine..." he said, but his weak voice betrayed him.

"Come on, I’ll help you inside."

Fidi helped Elafi to his feet and guided him back into the cabin. The deer boy shuffled to the couch, where he let himself collapse. He felt extremely exhausted. A deep fatigue was the main consequence of using his nature powers. It was as if the earth drained his own life or energy to give it to the plants he forced to grow. Or at least, that was the theory he had developed after days of practice, giving different commands—or "requests," as he preferred to call them—to the trees and other plants around him.

"You need to be more careful," the snake girl told him, handing him a napkin to wipe the blood from his nose. "If Warrick were here, he’d scold you for being reckless."

Elafi knew that, and that was why he felt guilty. Even though he knew he had to practice controlling his powers, he sometimes failed to measure the consequences that overexertion had on his health. After all, they were dealing with magic—something that no one except Lupita truly understood.

"I-I'll keep that in mind," he said, leaning back against the couch. He closed his eyes for a while, trying to calm his nausea. When he opened them again after a few minutes, he saw Fidi still sitting next to him on the couch, her brow furrowed and her gaze fixed on the scales on the backs of her hands. She seemed a bit agitated. "Are you okay?"

Fidi flinched, as if she had just been caught doing something illegal.

"Ah, yeah, I’m fine, I was just thinking… For the past few days, I’ve felt like my teeth are itching. It sounds weird, I know, but I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s weird… But let’s talk about something else! Are you hungry? Let’s eat something."

The truth was that Elafi was starting to feel a little hungry—it was almost noon. They ate some tuna pasta and then went for a walk in the forest. Warrick wouldn’t return until later, and they had already finished their assigned chores in the cabin, so they had nothing else to do.

They wandered deep into the trail, heading toward the mountain. However, upon reaching a clearing not far from the camping area, they spotted a campsite. It consisted of a large, closed tent and a portable toilet. A double-cab pickup truck was parked beside it. There was also a pile of firewood and stones stacked in front, as if someone was planning to build a fire soon.

"Do you think they’re birdwatchers?" Elafi asked, stepping closer, driven by curiosity.

"I don’t think it’s a good idea to find out," the girl said, getting a bad feeling, but the deer boy ignored her and continued forward.

Soon, they discovered that the seemingly empty campsite wasn’t entirely unoccupied: on the ground, with its legs tied, was a fawn. The poor creature barely struggled, and a piece of rope around its muzzle prevented it from calling for help. Seeing it, Elafi couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow in his heart, seeing himself reflected in the terrified, large black eyes of the fawn.

"We have to help it!" Elafi exclaimed, trying to untie the nylon ropes immobilizing the small animal.

Fidi simply stood there, watching the scene. Her body language visibly revealed her anxiety.

"Let’s get out of here," she insisted. "What if whoever captured that deer finds us?"

"I don’t want to leave it here alone," Elafi replied. He stood up, took one of the firepit stones—the sharpest one he could find—and used it to cut the rope.

The fawn thrashed, even more frightened. Its chest heaved frantically.

"Easy, we’re here to help, we won’t hurt you," Elafi said, his voice as sweet and calm as he could make it. His words had an immediate effect, as the fawn soon settled, allowing the boy to cut the rope and free it. "There! You can go back to your family now."

The fawn stood on its thin legs—identical to Elafi’s. They observed each other for a moment, communicating solely through their gaze. Then, the fawn took off, leaping into the dense forest until it disappeared.

"Let’s go already," Fidi said, more desperate now. The two chimera children turned to leave, but they hadn’t even taken a step when the tent suddenly opened and two men emerged.

"Look what we have here," said the shorter one with a half-smile. "Looks like we lost our prey but found two new ones."

Elafi felt his stomach knot. They were hunters.

"We don’t want any trouble," Fidi said, stepping in front of the deer boy and slowly backing away.

"Hey, I know you," the taller hunter said, pointing at Elafi. "I saw you in a picture. So you’re the reason old Cazador is dead, huh?"

Hearing that name again made Elafi’s legs tremble, and the memories of that event made his breathing quicken. They were Cazador’s friends—they had to be just as crazy and cruel as him. He felt Fidi squeeze his hand, trying to help him stay calm.

"So there were more beasts like you in this forest after all," one of the men continued. "And who’s this, your girlfriend?"

"Leave us alone," Fidi said, her voice firm and dripping with venom as she flicked out her forked tongue between her fangs.

"Why don’t you just come with us willingly before we have to do this the hard way?" the taller hunter said. He had a rifle slung over his back, which he then brought into his hands.

Elafi’s heart pounded hard against his chest. That’s when he decided to drop to his knees and place both hands on the ground. The earth began to tremble.

"What the hell?!" one of the hunters shouted, looking around.

Suddenly, roots emerged from the ground like snakes, wrapping around the men’s legs, climbing up their torsos, and immobilizing them.

"What kind of witchcraft is this?!"

"What’s happening?!"

Elafi took advantage of the distraction, leaping to his feet and shouting for Fidi to run. The two chimera children bolted into the forest. Behind them, they heard gunshots, but neither dared to look back, too terrified for their lives.

After a few minutes, as the initial adrenaline wore off, Elafi felt his energy drain from using his powers so suddenly. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, gasping. Fidi was already several meters ahead, disappearing among the trees. Elafi tried to keep moving, stretching his arms and crawling forward. A trickle of blood dripped from his nose. His headache was unbearable, pounding as if someone were hammering his skull.

Then, the sound of snapping branches and heavy footsteps reached his ears. Two tall figures stopped in front of him.

"Tired of running, little deer?"

Elafi barely had the strength to lift his head and observe the faces of his soon-to-be captors. Someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him up roughly. The boy couldn’t even stand properly on his two hooves, staggering.

“We lost one fawn, but we got another.”

One of the hunters easily hoisted Elafi onto his shoulder. The teenager didn’t even struggle; all his effort was focused on not losing consciousness.

They took him back to the camp. The roots he had previously summoned to create a distraction and escape had now disappeared, leaving behind only a patch of disturbed earth.

“We’ll take care of you first, and then your little friend,” one of the men said, dropping Elafi onto the waterproof ground inside the tent. It was quite spacious, with a plastic table and chairs in one corner, sleeping bags on the other side, and various scattered objects and tools. In the center stood a tall, somewhat wide metal column that supported the tent’s ceiling.

The hunters sat Elafi on the ground and tied him to the column, his arms pulled behind his back. More rope was wrapped around his torso, and additional bindings secured his ankles together.

“Today really is our lucky day,” one of the hunters said. Someone removed Elafi’s scarf and used it to gag him. The fabric was long enough to wrap around both the boy’s head and the metal column twice before the ends were tied. Elafi felt the thick cloth pulling his skull backward, digging into the corners of his mouth. No matter how hard he tried, he could only move his head slightly from side to side, and the cold metal cylinder pressed uncomfortably against his spine, crushing his tail.

“Now we just have to wait for that little reptile girl to come back for her friend,” one of the men remarked, exchanging a knowing glance with his companion. “We could have some fun with them before selling them.”

“Nggh, phlss!”

A part of Elafi didn’t want Fidi to come back for him. He knew it was a trap. If they caught her because of him, he wouldn’t be able to bear it—or forgive himself. But on the other hand, he was scared. He was afraid of the hunters, of their intentions. He felt just like that little fawn, trapped and unable to call for help, just waiting for someone to come save him. If anyone even would.

To make matters worse, using his powers twice in one day had left him exhausted and weak. At that moment, summoning the power of the plants again was impossible. He didn’t even have enough energy to struggle against his restraints. He felt his eyelids growing heavier, slowly closing. A wave of fear and worry was the last thing he experienced before losing consciousness.

Next

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba @morning-star-whump @lancedoncrimsonwings @3-2-whump@whumped-by-glitter @string-of-broken-hearts @alyscat @oddsconvert @what-if-i-just-did @bacillusinfection @writinglittlepains @washing---machine @bilightningwhumper @enasolos @inhurtandincomfort

Oh no! Anyways, thanks for reading!⭐

[spectersgirl]

i love love love any and all domestic harvey specter posts. i have pots which causes me to faint sometimes (but i love the attention so it’s whatever). what would it look like if harvey had a wife with pots? much love xx

"but i love the attention" I am CRYING LMAO

I actually had to research this a bit because I've heard of it but didn't really know what it was. if anyone else is curious, this is the article I read!

I'm sorry this is so late, I really didn't know where I was going with this so I just had it rotting in my drafts

I hope you enjoy it, I probably was not super accurate but I tried!

Tough Days

Harvey Specter x Reader

--------

The morning sunlight streamed through flowy white curtains as Harvey Specter woke up to find you already stirring in bed. He blinked away the remnants of sleep, taking a moment to appreciate your beauty.

"Morning, gorgeous," Harvey greeted, his voice warm with affection as he propped himself up on an elbow.

You smiled softly, though there was a hint of exhaustion in your eyes. "Morning, handsome."

He could tell it was going to be one of your tough days. You had been diagnosed with POTS a few years ago, and while you and Harvey had learned to manage it together, some days were still more challenging than others.

"Need anything?" Harvey asked, already shifting into protective husband mode.

"Just some water and maybe breakfast in bed?" You replied with a faint grin, voice laced with tiredness.

"Consider it done." Harvey slipped out of bed, tucking the duvet around you and dropping a kiss onto your forehead before heading to the kitchen.

He returned with a tray bearing a glass of water, a bowl of oatmeal, and a side of fruit. Setting it down carefully, he made sure everything was within your reach. Harvey sat on the edge of the bed, watching you eat.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked gently, concern visible on his face.

You sighed, setting the spoon down. "Dizzy and fatigued, but I'll manage."

"You shouldn't have to 'manage'" Harvey said firmly. "You've got me."

You smiled gratefully, reaching out to take his hand. "I know, and I'm thankful for that every day."

Harvey leaned over, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "Let's take it easy today. I'll cancel my morning, we'll just relax and take care of you."

You snuggled closer to Harvey, feeling the warmth of his presence soothing you. But suddenly, a wave of dizziness swept over you, and your vision blurred. Before you could even voice a warning, the room spun, and your strength wavered. You struggled to sit up, gasping for breath.

"Y/N?" Harvey's voice was laced with worry as he noticed the change in your demeanor. In an instant, he was upright at your side, steadying you.

"I'm okay," you managed, though your words were shaky.

But before you could finish the sentence, the world tilted, and everything went dark.

Panic surged through Harvey as he caught his wife, your body slumping against him. "Y/N! Hey, baby, stay with me," he urged, laying you gently on the bed.

Your eyelids fluttered weakly as consciousness returned. You blinked, disoriented and weak, trying to focus on Harvey's concerned face.

"Easy, take deep breaths," he coached, his voice calm despite the worry etched on his features.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling embarrassed and frustrated by your body's betrayal.

Harvey shook his head gently. "No apologies. You don't have to apologize for something you can't control."

He quickly ran to get a cold towel and placed it on your forehead, helping you sit up slowly. He monitored your pulse and made sure you were comfortable, something he'd done countless times before on days like this.

"You scared me for a second there," Harvey admitted softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You managed a weak smile. "Sorry you have to deal with that."

"Don't be ridiculous," Harvey replied firmly. "You're my priority, always."

He stayed by your side, ensuring you had fully recovered before he even considered leaving you alone. As you regained your strength, you felt grateful for Harvey's unwavering support.

"Thank you for being here," you murmured, leaning into his comforting presence.

"For you, always," Harvey assured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As the morning passed, Harvey stayed by your side, making sure you had everything you needed. He adjusted the room temperature, brought your favorite books, and even ran a warm bath to help ease your discomfort.

"You're spoiling me today," you teased as Harvey helped you into the bath.

He chuckled softly. "With everything you do for me all the time, it's the least I can do."

Once you were settled, Harvey stayed close, chatting about anything and everything to keep your mind off the discomfort. He'd perfected this art, knowing when to distract you and when to let you rest.

Later in the evening, as you settled back into bed, feeling a bit better, you looked at Harvey with gratitude in your eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," he assured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'll always be here, taking care of you."

And as they curled up together, you felt a wave of love and appreciation wash over you for the man next to you. He always put you first and made sure you were taken care of, and while this felt unnatural to you at first, you'd learned to stop fighting it and just let him care for you.

[kisses-for-you]

Hurt - Jill Valentine

Jill Valentine X Fem!Reader

Summary: You get injured by a Pale Head and Jill has to help you before it's too late.

Word Count: 1,103

September 28, 1998.

The day the world went to utter shit.

You and your girlfriend, Jill, have once again found yourselves caught up in a dire situation. This time, however, it involves fucking zombies, of all things.

Currently, you're sat in a room deep within Umbrella's underground lab, propped up against a cold, unforgiving wall.

You and Jill had been fighting some sort of monster that might have been called a 'Pale Head'. Or at least that's what you think it was. Both you and Jill had been trying to kill the fucker, not realising it's fast regeneration. While trying to kill it, it dug its nasty claws into your thigh, ripping the skin. As it viciously tore into your thigh, a scream escaped your lips, the pain finally registering.

You were now left with an excruciating wound, that was bleeding more and more by the second.

Jill shot her gun one last time at the creature, knocking it down for god knows how long. All you hoped for was that it would be long enough for you to get to a safe spot.

You were barely standing as you tried to stop the intense bleeding coming from your thigh. Jill immediately ran over to you, wrapping your arm around her shoulder, her arm going around your waist.

"Y/N, you're going to be okay... I promise," she said, still panting as she tried to catch her breath from the fight that happened just seconds ago.

She led you away and into some room that surprisingly didn't have any undead lurking in the shadows, ready to jump out at you at any given second.

"I have to let go of you for a second, Y/N. I have to lock the door. Can you stand on your own?" Jill looked down at you as she spoke.

As she spoke to you, you noticed the concern that was painted across her face and the worry that laced her voice.

"Y-yeah. I think so," you stuttered, feeling dizzy and light-headed as you responded.

"Alright. Ready?" Jill asked, her words filled with a tone of uneasiness.

You gave her one small and simple nod and as soon as you did, she let go of you. Immediately, she went to lock the door. You swayed for a couple of seconds before falling to the ground, just barely catching yourself. You leaned against a wall, now sitting.

After successfully locking the door, Jill turned back to you and straight away took notice of how pale and weak you looked. She rushed to you, kneeling on the ground next to you.

"Fucking hell, Y/N. That doesn't look good at all," she mumbled as her gaze locked on the wound on your thigh and then back on your face, "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted. I don't know how much longer I can last like this, Jill..." You sounded just as drained as you felt..Tears shimmered in your eyes, threatening to spill. The pain, the fatigue, it was all just more than you could ever possibly handle.

"Please don't say that. You'll be fine. We'll make it out of this, together." It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself rather than you.

Jill's hand reached out to yours. She let her hand rest on top of yours, her hands extremely warm in comparison to yours. Or maybe you were just extremely cold.

Sweat fell from your forehead and down your face, even though you felt like you were freezing. This wasn't looking good. You were even starting to get a fever.

"I'm going to look for some bandages. Something has to be around here," Jill said, now standing up, letting go of your hand.

She didn't realise just how bad this whole thing was until now. Her fear and anxiety were at an all-time high. She was scared for you. She didn't want you to leave her yet. She wasn't ready at all.

You just nodded your head once, feeling even more tired than before; if that was even possible at this point. Jill looked around the room, opening every single cabinet that she could.

As a S.T.A.R.S. officer, Jill had basic first aid knowledge that she would hopefully be able to use in this situation. You trusted her and you knew she'd try her best, no matter what.

After finishing looking around the room, she came back with some bandages and a bottle that looked like it could be antiseptic.

Jill looked down at you and she noticed how you were finding breathing harder and harder. Your breathing appeared difficult and shallow. She knew she would have to act fast.

"Y/N, I have to warn you; this is going to sting like a bitch," she felt sorry for the fact she was about to cause you more pain, but it had to be done.

"Just.. do it," your words came out quiet, almost like a whisper. You just wanted this to be over with already.

Jill pours some antiseptic onto a gauze pad. Almost right away, she wipes the gauze over your wound causing you to bite your lip and draw in a sharp breath. She muttered a small 'sorry' as she cleaned the wound on your thigh.

Once she was done, Jill put some dressing directly on top of the wound. She then wrapped a bandage over the dressing.

You felt like you were about to pass out. You had lost so much blood in such a small amount of time, it was honestly a miracle you were still alive. "It's done," she told you as she glanced at your face, "Y/N?"

You're on the brink of unconsciousness. But it's almost like hearing your girlfriend's voice makes you feel like you have to fight. You can't leave her alone. Not now, not ever. You try to fight the exhaustion, for Jill.

"Hm?" is all you could say.

You don't have the energy to say anything else. But you just want to let her know you're still here, with her.

"Just hold on. I'm not letting you die tonight. Not like this," her words are filled with a tone of confidence. She's not letting you go out this way.

A small smile plays on the edge of your lips at her words. You manage to gather enough energy to respond, "I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N. That's why I have to get you out of here."

She scoops you up into her arms, holding you bridal style. She's ready to take on anything and everything, just for you.

[ignisomniac]

so i've been asked a couple times:

fox where have you been

fox are you alive

fox are you okay

and my answers to those questions are as follows:

very sick and losing a lot of blood

yes unfortunately

not really

more shit under the cut

so basically... yesterday i was informed that i had lost so much blood from my period (that started again and hasn't stopped for nearly 5 weeks) that i went from perfectly healthy to needing emergency treatment.

the doctor literally walked in the room and apologized and told me it was no wonder i've been feeling awful. her face was just full of... concern? like almost fear.

i went from about 12 for my hemoglobin stat to 7.5, which is only .5 away from needing blood transfusions and even worse emergency stuff. i was given an iron infusion, where they set you up with an iv and directly infuse iron-rich fluids into your blood stream. i'll be receiving a second treatment next week.

i have been dealing with:

a horrible, HORRIBLE period and waking up covered in blood most days

heart issues

breathing issues

extreme exhaustion and fatigue

weakness, dizziness, lightheadedness

occasional nausea

and yeah.

nothing except the iron infusions are working for me to keep me healthy.

i switched my obgyn to a new one and despite her being booked up for months, they squeezed me in for next week because my symptoms are just so severe.

so... yeah. that's where i've been... i hardly have the energy to get up and make myself food every day, so i'm even more forgetful than usual.

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

a whisper in the autumn wind

Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1647 | Read on AO3

A chill racks your body as you and Mark make your way through the cool night. You mentally curse, wishing you were wearing more layers, though you know anything more wouldn't have fit under the tactical vest that sits snugly around your torso.

Your heist partner doesn't seem to notice you shiver, busy making sure the coast is clear before proceeding and gesturing for you to follow.

You do your best to keep pace with your friend's manoeuvres as he darts an odd pattern through the museum, triggering a bout of slight nausea that causes you to stop in your tracks.

‘Hey, keep up!’ Mark whisper-yells, turning around just in time to miss you steadying yourself after a wave of dizziness.

Somehow you make it the rest of the way without collapsing or being seen, but you're now all too aware of the fatigue in your muscles and the soreness in your throat. Meanwhile, your partner in crime carefully but swiftly wraps the stolen artefacts and slips them into his bag.

Your prize this time? A series of ancient tablets that you plan to sell to an illegal collector. You can't imagine what practical use someone would have for these, but at the end of the day, a job's a job and money is money.

It is only on your way out, that you feel the tell-tale itch in your nose that you have been dreading all evening.

As you scrunch up your face, Mark looks at you in confusion.

‘Buddy, you've been acting off all night, what's up with you? You good?’

You nod, desperately wanting to move on and for this to be over with.

The first couple of sneezes you manage to quell without too much fuss, but you can already feel a larger one threatening your nostrils.

While crouched behind a display, hiding from some guards, comes the point at which you can no longer hide that you're suppressing sneezes.

‘Alright, we are so close to being scot-free— hey what are you —? You're not sick are you? Really? Now?!’

Mark shakes his head back and forth with a string of frantically whispered "no"s as you fight your reflexes, but it's futile.

The sneeze that finally escapes you is resounding, and there is a beat of stunned silence and lack of movement from every party involved before you and Mark react first, bolting out the exit with the guards in pursuit.

It's a mad dash with a lot of ducking and diving, adrenaline probably the only thing keeping your body going, but by some miracle the two of you manage to lose them, eventually making it to where your getaway vehicle is parked some ways away so as to not be suspicious.

Piling into the passenger seat, exhaustion hits you all at once and you're thankful that Mark is the one driving. You pull off your gloves and hat and he does the same.

With no one following you, your partner drives cautiously in order to not draw any unwanted attention, careful to abide by traffic laws and always on the lookout for cops.

‘There's tissues and water in the glove box,’ he says after a few minutes, expression hard-lined and inscrutable, eyes focused on the road.

There's a thick tension in the car, uncharacteristically quiet save for the limited traffic outside and the rumble of the engine. You blow your nose, and it feels awkward in the silence, only broken on occasion by your sniffing. You take a sip of water, grateful for the coolness against your chapped lips and dry throat.

Eventually, you decide you don't want to endure the tension any longer, and you're too tired to let your little mishap turn into an argument; it was your fault, after all.

‘I'm sorry.’

Mark sighs. He glances at you, then back to the road.

‘It's okay. It's not your fault you're sick, it's just… Why didn't you tell me?’

‘Didn't want to ruin the heist.’ You laugh, but it's strained and weak, void of any real mirth or humour. ‘But I guess I kinda messed up on that anyway, huh?’

He lets out a small huff of laughter. ‘Yeah, no shit.’

You look down at your hands, folded in your lap.

‘Hey, it's not a big deal,’ he consoles. ‘We got what we came for and we didn't get caught. That's about as much as we can say for most of our heists.’

Your gaze stays downcast; he does make a good point, but it doesn't stop you from feeling a little guilty.

Mark must notice, because he reaches across to place a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, other hand still keeping the wheel steady.

You put your own hand over his, grateful for the comfort. You close your eyes and will away the growing dizziness and brain fog, the warmth from his now ungloved palm reassuring.

‘Look buddy, I need you to know I'm not mad or anything, just a bit upset that you didn't tell me in the first place… and annoyed at myself for not catching onto the fact sooner. I just thought… I thought you felt like you could be honest with me about this stuff.’

There's an undeniable hurt in his tone that makes you look up at him. He is still intently focused on the road ahead, despite there being rather few other people and cars out at this time of night, and you know it's out of choice — he takes his eyes off the streets in favour of looking your way for much longer than necessary when he wants to. Usually you'd chide him for doing so, but right now you can't help but wish he'd properly meet your eyes, just for a moment.

‘No – I can. I can tell you nearly everything, I – I'm sorry.’ You take a steadying breath, organising your thoughts. ‘You were just – really looking forward to this one, and there was no better day for it, everything lined up perfectly for us to go tonight. This stupid cold had to turn up and it started out as just a sore throat, no big deal, and well… I thought I could stick it out a little longer despite feeling like crap, but…’ You trail off, turning to look out the window as he approaches your shared base, returning his hand to the wheel.

He pulls up, setting the car to park, and finally turns his head to fully face you, placing a hand on your knee to get your attention.

He says your name, and it sounds like a term of endearment. For someone so bold and often brash, he can be surprisingly tender, a side of him that rarely anyone but you gets to see. ‘I rely on you, and you can rely on me… but part of that means we have to tell each other these things.’

‘Yeah, OK…’

‘Pinky promise?’

‘What are you, five?’

‘I'm serious,’ he says firmly, holding out his finger to emphasise the point.

Smiling, you hook your pinky around his own and shake on it, but not without rolling your eyes first.

‘Good,’ he says, pleased. ‘Now that that's settled, let's get inside, hm?’

While Mark retrieves the loot and stows it for the time being, you let yourself in, settling on the small couch in the living room. You take off your shoes and unzip your vest, easing it off your aching limbs.

The nausea and dizziness seems to have passed but you feel hot, yet a little shivery, and you're on the verge of nodding off when Mark appears in front of you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. If it's even possible, you feel incrementally hotter with his touch as you return his concerned gaze through sleepy, half-lidded eyes.

‘I think you've got a fever, bud. C'mon, time for bed.’

You groan in protest, too drained to move, instead letting your head fall forward to plop against his chest, the soft texture of his plain black sweater a comforting feel against your fevered skin.

‘Oh boy, what am I gonna do with you…?’ he murmurs, bringing a hand up to pat your hair. He speaks softly, and with such affection that your heart would probably be doing somersaults if you weren't so tired and ill.

‘Alright, upsy-daisy.’ In one quick motion, he picks you up, carrying you bridal style to your room, and for once you don't object.

‘Hey, you better not make me sick too,’ he warns without an ounce of actual distaste, as you practically nuzzle your face into him.

He gently lays you in bed, tucking covers around you.

‘I'll be right back.’

You instantly miss his presence, tugging the blanket up a little around yourself.

He returns before long with a box of tissues, the bottle of water you'd been drinking and some painkillers, leaving them by your bedside. He places a wet face cloth beside you as well.

‘I know you're probably feeling cold but I don't want your temperature to get too high, so use this, and keep drinking water.’

You nod, about ready to drift to sleep.

‘Call me if you need anything, OK? I won't be far.’

‘Don't you want to sleep?’

‘I will in a little while, but you can still call me.’

‘Ok,’ you reply appreciatively. ‘Thanks for… looking after me.’

‘Someone's got to.’ He smiles at you gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

After a pause, he gets up to leave, pulling the door closed but leaving a gap the width of his face.

‘Rest up, buddy.’

He makes a quick kissing sound in your direction before shutting the door fully, his footsteps receding down the hallway.

Your face feels very warm.

Must be the fever, you think, placing the towel on your forehead with a yawn, before swiftly falling asleep.

[cbk1000]

And part three. (Final part; sorry this is so long: it has been a fucking long four months.)

No problem, Doctor Dipshit, I guess I'll just do your job and continue treating myself.

After my period ends, my heart rate drops again. It's still not as low as it should be, but it's much better. I continue to gradually improve. It's not a linear process; some days are better than others, but I never feel as bad as I did at the beginning of all this. My main issue is really my heart rate at this point; I'm no longer dizzy, I don't have the extreme weakness I had, my nausea is gone, I'm sleeping much better, and I'm a lot less tired than I was even before all this started. But the high heart rate keeps me still mostly bedbound, and I'm gnashing my teeth, because at this point I feel well enough to be mad about it, instead of just lying in bed trying to stave off death.

I finally start turning a corner, almost three months into taking supplements. My heart rate is consistently lower; even my last period wasn't as rough. (I felt a little worse than I had been, but my heart rate didn't spike, and I mostly just felt more run down than I normally would during my period.)

Over the last couple of weeks, I've been able to sit and stand and walk around for much longer, and I was finally, after months, able to start writing again. My heart rate is still a bit higher than it should be, and I have chest pain and tightness that radiates into my throat (it almost feels like an asthma attack) if I exert myself too much, but I can sit up for a good couple, few hours at a time, then lie down for a few minutes till those symptoms improve, and then get back up again. It is more exhausting to do things because of this, but I still, honestly, feel less tired than when I was a fully functioning, 'normal' person, and I've noticed that the horrible, frequent anxiety attacks I was having multiple times a week, out of nowhere, with no trigger, haven't happened since I started supplementing. I have been stressed, of course, but not baselessly anxious. Apparently iron deficiency can cause or worsen anxiety, so the anxiety I was having for the last couple of years that I attributed to all the changes at work, and how generally stressful the world has been, was also likely related to this.

Today, three and a half months after starting iron supplements, I'm writing this sitting up at my computer. I have some chest pain, but right now it's more of an annoyance than anything, and I can push through for a while before I'll need to lie down for a bit. The last week I have been able to write 27,000 words, animatedly play a video game I'm into at the moment (I shout a lot when I play), take Seamus outside multiple times a day while Mr. Jenn is at work (albeit for very short walks around the backyard, but still), edit, and concentrate on my reading. I can now sit out and eat dinner at our countertop and visit with Mr. Jenn. I spend more time up now than I do in bed. Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment with a non-lunatic, and will hopefully be able to get medical clearance to finally return to work (Mr. Jenn and I have rigged up my desk so that I can recline and still see my monitors and work if I need more than my allotted breaks to rest) and an order for an iron infusion to get me the rest of the way more quickly. It has been the longest four months of my life. I have felt trapped in my own body. There were points during that constant back and forth of regressing a bit, improving a bit, regressing a bit, that I was afraid I would be stuck like that forever. I've had enough of consistently being on my feet day after day over the last few weeks that, while I'm not yet at 100% and know it will still probably be a while before I am, I know I will be, eventually. I actually feel confident in that now.

What I mean to say with these three very long-winded posts is, please do not ignore what your body is telling you. I wrote off the extreme fatigue, and anxiety, and burning and tingling I was feeling in my legs and feet as poor sleep, the world going to shit, muscle strain, etc. etc. That was my body trying to tell me something was really wrong. I did not know these were symptoms of iron deficiency; and not everyone gets them, and not everyone gets such severe symptoms that their entire body shuts down and confines them to bed for months: but there was something wrong with me, probably for years, and I ignored that, and wrote it off, because the symptoms were non-specific, and I'd lived with them for so long that I normalized them. If you are having any of these symptoms, especially fatigue, especially if you're menstruating, and especially especially if most of your iron sources aren't from meat, please get an iron panel done. Not your CBC; that will only tell you if your hemoglobin is ok, and I can tell you, as exhibit A, that just because your hemoglobin is normal, does not mean you don't have iron deficiency. B12 deficiency will cause some of these same symptoms as well, so if you're vegetarian, definitely get that checked as well.

The only reason I was able to put two and two together was because I had had similar cardiac issues after a blood donation, when it was easy to go, "Wait, I think you bled too much; let's put some iron back in you." I don't want to think about how long I might have been stuck like this getting booted from specialist to specialist with no one thinking to check my iron levels because my hemoglobin was normal. If you do not have enough of this one single mineral in your body, it can literally be debilitating. I work a desk job from home; I have been out of work for four months now because I haven't even been able to sit up at a desk. I actually ran out of legally-protected medical leave a month ago and am just lucky that my employer wants to keep me enough that they were willing to put me on personal leave until I was ready to come back.

Anyway, that is my extremely long update. I sincerely appreciate everyone who has checked in on me and asked how I'm doing.

[icy-hotsimp]

The Naughty Quirk - My Hero Academia.

Set a few years after graduating from UA, Momo has a run-in with a villain with a troublesome quirk. When Momo shows up to his doorstep for help, Shouto's self restraint is put to the test. HEAVY Todomomo smut! Rated: 18+! NO MINERS!! - English - Romance - Words: 5,301! Anyways, sorry, my first post!

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Momo panted heavily as she made her way down the street, leaning on the wall for support.

Crap… I really messed up.

It was the middle of the night. She was beginning to feel dizzy from exhaustion, stumbling clumsily. The creation heroine was just fleeing from an encounter with the leader of a large trafficking organization. Her cover had been blown and she just narrowly managed to escape from the underground headquarters. Soon after the incident, her body began feeling increasingly weak.

Ugh… there must have been some kind of poisonous inhalant in that smoke bomb they set off. Calm down, Momo. You're going to be alright…

She needed to figure out where she was before she could get any help. She lifted her gaze, looking around for any landmarks or hints as to where she could be. As she approached the end of the block, her eyes landed on a street sign.

Wait, I recognize this street name… Todoroki-san! This is near his place! If I can just get there….

Little did she know, her symptoms stemmed from the effects of a lustful hypnotic quirk.

Todoroki Shouto was relaxing on the tatami floors of his modern Japanese-style home. He flipped through another page of the book he was reading about fire quirks, deciding it would be the last one before retiring to sleep. The pro hero needed to rest soon before the day ahead of him aiding in several important investigative missions. Suddenly, his eyes shot towards his front door as he thought he heard the faintest sound. Pausing, he listened silently to confirm the odd fact that someone was really knocking at his door at 10PM.

Bang bang bang!

Todoroki sprang up from the floor, sensing the urgency from the sound. Prepared for an attack, he swung open the door, ready to fend off whatever had interrupted his evening.

"Yaoyorozu!" His guard immediately dropped upon seeing her slouched figure. She nearly fell to the floor at the doorway from exhaustion, quickly supported by his steady arms.

"Hey, Yaoyorozu!" He called, slightly panicked, trying to illicit a response from her. He adjusted her in his arms, helping her to stand against him.

"What happened!?"

She could barely keep her eyes open, hearing the familiar, normally collected voice riddled with worry. "I… think I," she panted, her body feeling heavy, "... Poisoned…"

That was all she needed to say before he snaked an arm under her buckling knees, picking her up quickly and rushing to the hospital.

—

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can really do for her," the physician told him.

"What?" He hissed. "She said she was poisoned."

"We've run blood tests, EKGs, scans, drug tests, everything— she's perfectly normal. We even checked with our poison specialist. We don't know why she is displaying these symptoms… perhaps it could be extreme fatigue?" He suggested, glancing towards a fidgeting Momo lying in the bed.

"Her quirk requires lipids," Todoroki started to explain.

"We know. We've given her some TPN and lipids, it may just be what she needs… I think the best course of action would probably be just to take her home and let her get rest."

Todoroki's gaze uneasily shifted to the creation hero. He knew what a fatigued Yaoyorozu looked like. Something was off.

With no better options in sight, he reluctantly took Yaoyorozu home from the hospital and decided he would keep an eye on her in case her symptoms were to change. Cradling her in his arms, he carried her back into his home.

Todoroki glanced at the exhausted Yaoyorozu, eyes shut and brow slightly wrinkled in a sign of distress. It's been months since he last saw her. After graduating from UA, class 1-A made it a point to have reunions several times during the year. Being busy with their own hero agendas, once every couple of months was all they could afford.

What was she doing here?

Momo loosely gripped at his shirt, face nuzzling into his chest cutely. He felt a slight pang of guilt for thinking she looked adorable in this worrisome situation. Her skin was burning hot despite his attempt to cool her down using his quirk. The scent of her peach shampoo mixed with sweat made for a strangely alluring smell. Deciding she seemed okay at the moment, he tore his gaze away to focus on the path ahead of him.

In his rush, he realized he hadn't even locked his front door. Todoroki immediately went for his bedroom, gently laying Yaoyorozu down on top of his large futon. Still gripping at his shirt, Todoroki gently peeled her fingers off, taking her hands and laying them beside her. "No…" she mumbled softly.

"Rest, Yaoyorozu," he ordered her softly. He left her side momentarily to retrieve his cell phone, immediately placing a call to alert his team that he wasn't going to be able to make it tomorrow… actually, 'today'. It was well past midnight.

When it came to Yaoyorozu, there wasn't the slightest hesitation of putting her before work. His eyes scanned over her restless body, her legs shifting slowly. She turned her head from side to side, the look of discomfort still riddled on her face. He frowned as he realized she was still in a hospital gown.

Thinking for a moment, Todoroki padded across his room to his dresser to pull out one of his loose shirts.

"Yaoyorozu," he called her gently.

Momo replied only in a soft hum.

"Yaoyorozu," he tried again, kneeling beside her, "Can you change?"

"Mm," she replied weakly. The icy-hot hero frowned, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his brow.

Don't overthink it, Shouto.

Todoroki hesitated for a second before slowly helping her up to a seated position. He moved to sit behind her, instantly regretting letting his eyes travel. A sliver of her smooth back was exposed by the loose one-size-fits-all hospital gown, making it clear that she had nothing on except that and a pair of dainty black underwear. Although her hero costume revealed a lot of her skin due to her quirk, this seemed completely different. Not to his surprise, her skin was perfectly flawless, glistening slightly from sweat. Todoroki felt his body heat up slightly, completely unrelated to his quirk.

Don't be so unprofessional.

The dual quirked hero silently thanked the stars that the gown was solely fastened by two strings of fabric, tied at the top in a quick release ribbon. He carefully pulled his spare shirt over her head, on top of the gown. The embarrassed hero worked quickly, pulling her arms out of the gown so the fabric lay over the front half of her body, only secured at the neck now. He helped her arms through his shirt, then pulled it down to cover her back. He let out a short sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding.

"Hold on. I'm almost done," he told her in an attempt to ease her fidgeting. She grunted softly, leaning back onto him slightly. He blushed slightly as he nudged her back into her seated position, quickly undoing the bow. Todoroki tugged the loose fabric of the hospital gown off her body, letting out another sigh triumphantly for managing to change a woman without needlessly invading her privacy. He paused for a moment, eyeing her hair. His fingers reached up for the small elastic tie, tugging it gently out of her soft hair. Long black tresses cascaded down her back as she let out what sounded like a satisfied hum. Deciding he had done all that he could, he helped her to lay back down on the futon. The look on her face was more relaxed, sending a wave of relief over her worried comrade. Quickly he got up, not wanting to spend too much time looking at her with intentions other than to check on her health.

Todoroki grabbed the book he left in his living room before reentering his bedroom to watch over Yaoyorozu. He sat on the floor, leaning his back on the wall with his book on his lap. He took one last glance at the creation heroine, who looked like she was peacefully sleeping. Todoroki opened his book promptly, shoving away any unnecessary thoughts. All he needed to know was that she was resting soundly.

The words on the page sounded clear and articulate in his mind, but he couldn't find any meaning in them. Rereading paragraphs over and over to no avail, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Todoroki took a moment to relax his posture, realizing that his body had been tense the whole time. It was 3 in the morning now, and this was the first time he was able to sit down and process anything.

A flashback of the beginning of the night played in his mind, a faint feeling of terror rushing through his body once more. That was his first time seeing the creation hero in a desperate condition like that. He stole another glance at her face, checking to see if she was still okay. Yaoyorozu had turned to lay on her side, facing him as she slept soundly. The word "pretty" crept into his mind before he could turn his attention back to his book.

Is this really all I can do? Wait and see if she'll be okay? This definitely doesn't seem like her normal fatigue… What if it doesn't work, should I bring her to another hospital? If nothing is really wrong with her, why would she say she was poisoned? Who could have poisoned her?

His thoughts were interrupted when she shifted once more. "Shouto…"

His ears pricked at the sound of her soft voice. Immediately his eyes went to her sleeping figure, now laying on her back.

Did I imagine that? Yaoyorozu ALWAYS calls me Todor—

"Shouto…" she moaned softly. He didn't know why the sound of her weak voice, gently calling for him by his first name, was giving him such chills.

"...Yaoyorozu?" He stood up, hesitantly moving closer to her. "What is it?"

Yaoyorozu fluttered her eyes open to look up at him with half-lidded eyes, her onyx irises gazing up from underneath long black lashes. Todoroki stiffened at the sight in front of him, finally allowing his mind to piece together the big picture. In his bed laid the intelligent and beautiful Yaoyorozu, his cherished friend and comrade. Long black hair framed her body, contrasting with her stunning porcelain skin. Her arms laid leisurely above her head in a visually vulnerable position, knees bent and ever so slightly parted. His tee shirt fit her loosely, but it did an awful job of covering up the sight of her long legs and edge of her panties.

He immediately used his right side to cool down his body, burning with excitement.

"Shouto… please," she whined softly. It took every last ounce of restraint to ignore the sight of her hips shifting slightly.

It nearly sent him into a panic when he noticed her hands reaching for the hem of her shirt, attempting to pull it up. He was immediately by her side, grabbing her wrists and stopping her.

"H-Hey, Yaoyorozu," he blurted.

"It's so.. hot.." He heard her mumble softly, attempting to sit up.

It must be the poison kicking in.

"Wait, Yaoyorozu," he let go of her wrist, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her back down, "Just try to relax." Traces of nerves were evident in his voice.

Her arms immediately snaked around his neck, pulling him down. Todoroki just barely managed to catch himself on his arms, leaning over her in his bed as she clung onto him. The normally cool and collected hero broke into a blush as their faces neared one another. He was momentarily relieved when she pulled herself past his face and into a hug. Burying whatever emotions that were manifesting, Todoroki started to prop himself up in order to untangle her from him. However, he froze when she whined softly into his ear.

"Shouto… please.. help me take this off…" she begged. "Save me, Shouto.."

He could feel a fierce blush heating the tips of his ears, a wave of electricity washing over his body. Quickly, he managed to pull her away from him as he silently thanked his years of training to control his quirk. He could have easily burst into flames at that moment, setting his house on fire.

"Yaoyorozu, I can cool you off with my quirk," he told her, attempting to untangle her arms from around his neck. One glance at her seductive, alluring gaze told him he was better off looking away. This plan backfired immediately when he didn't notice her leaning towards him and placing a soft kiss on the side of his mouth. His eyes widened, instinctively turning to look at her only to meet her soft lips once again.

"Yao—"

Shouto was completely caught off guard, unable to pull away from her gentle and warm lips. One after the other, she placed sweet kisses on his lips that tempted him to close his eyes and enjoy.

Is it some kind of aphrodisiac?

He struggled against the powerful urge to indulge in her lips, using every drop of self control to pull himself away. Sitting up proved to be useless as Momo easily followed him, now straddling his lap and worsening the situation. She was leaning over him as she continued, each kiss growing more heated than the last. His hand went up to hold her blushing cheek, and he fought an internal battle about whether or not he really wanted to push her away. Shouto's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, giving in to the addicting feeling of her soft lips on his. He was intoxicated by her sweet smell, coaxing him to let go of all his worries and filling his head with everything that was her. Slowly he found himself kissing her back, gravitating towards her hungrily each time she pulled away before pressing her lips against his once more. He felt a heat rising in his body as he felt traces of her tongue teasing his inner lip.

This is bad…

His mouth parted slightly, and her tongue slipped inside subtly to graze against his. Instantly Shouto felt an animalistic side of him banging at his door, begging to come out and dominate this woman before him.

He grudgingly pulled away, holding her cheek and placing a thumb gently over her lips to stop her.

I'm taking advantage of her already. It's bad enough I let the kiss get that far.

He looked into her eyes, donning a cutely desperate expression to continue. She was already starting to lick at his thumb slowly. Everything she was doing was driving him insane.

"Shouto, it hurts…" she said, blushing as she looked adorably distressed.

"Let me take you back to the hospital," he told her, half distracted by her beginning to suck on his finger teasingly. Shit.

"I need you, please…" A surge of excitement coursed through his veins as she softly whined the words any male craved to hear. This was exponentially powerful, coming from Yaoyorozu Momo. There was something extremely exhilarating about hearing the independent, powerful heroine saying she needed him.

Her hands were beginning to wander down his chest, sliding down to the bottom of his stomach. He flinched, quickly catching her wrist with his free hand.

"Yaoyorozu, NO," he scolded her strictly.

This is getting out of hand… There's no way I can use my quirk on her. I need to restrain her physically.

Todoroki pushed her back onto his futon, quickly capturing her wrists and pinning them above her head.

I need something to tie her with—

Before he could think any further, he felt his grip get rejected by a large bracelet she used to escape with, a technique he'd seen her do several times before. Catching him off guard, Momo swept him to quickly reverse their positions, promptly rolling off the futon. He grunted as she mounted on top of him. It slipped his mind that she'd been training with Ochaco after being inspired by her combat skills, but what surprised him the most was her ability to fight so sharply in the heated condition she was in. Her hips were sitting snugly on top of the hardening bulge in his pants.

Momo leaned overtop of him with hands on either side of his head. "Please, Shouto, I need you so bad," she whined, "I want you so bad it hurts…" His eyes widened at the sight of her, voice pleading softly. A tear formed at the corner of her eye, slipping down her pink cheeks.

"Yaoyorozu…" he said gently, reaching up to wipe a tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his palm cutely.

"Why won't you ever.. touch me?" she asked quietly. The truth in her sentence stabbed him somewhere deep inside of him.

Stunned by her expression, the words were stuck in his throat for a moment before he could finally answer, "... We can't."

She's not paying attention… In the back of his mind, he contemplated pushing her away and locking her inside his room. However, all plan formulating stopped when he saw the look on her face, tugging on his heartstrings. In her eyes he could read her solemn question: Don't you care about me?

Todoroki didn't move as she slowly leaned down, placing a warm kiss on his lips once more. His thumb stroked her cheek gently as he returned her feelings, eyes closing as he surrendered to her.

This isn't right… she doesn't know what she's doing. But...

Yaoyorozu slipped her delicate hands up his palms, threading her fingers through his.

Quiet, suppressed thoughts began to seep into his brain as she continued.

"It's impossible to push her away."

"You've been wanting this for awhile."

A warm blush crept onto his cheeks, feeling his heart swell as they shared a passionate, sweet kiss.

Another thought submerged, one that had been buried deep inside:

"I love her."

He suddenly stopped, turning his head.

That's exactly why you need to protect her.

"I'm sorry." Shouto began to untangle his hands from her, a look of confusion and sadness donning her face. Grabbing his wrists, she stopped him, pinning his hands firmly to the floor. Todoroki struggled, only to feel his wrists caught against what felt like metal. In a matter of seconds, the mischievous heroine quickly created two wrist restraints bonded to the floor.

"Yaoyorozu, what—," he stopped suddenly as he watched her sit up slowly, teasingly tracing her fingertips down his forearms and sending a tingling pleasure to his core.

"Hey, did you know.." Her hands were resting on his chest, and he was almost certain she could feel his heart racing underneath her touch.

"Yaoyorozu, let me out before I—"

"Kimura's steel is highly resistant to extremely hot and cold temperatures," she said, looking down at him with a devilish smile ghosting on her lips.

Another wave of heat passed through his body. He swallowed, unable to find any words. Her hands felt down his toned chest painfully slow, causing him to fidget slightly.

"Yaoyorozu… I'm warning you," he growled, eyes glued to her hands as he focused on calming himself.

"Punish me then," she answered naughtily. Shouto clenched his jaw at the feeling of her fingertips sliding underneath the hem of his shirt, shamelessly feeling up his muscled abdomen. Her eyes were fixed on his skin peeking out from under his shirt that was beginning to ride up, biting her bottom lip gently. Shouto struggled against the metal restraints, digging into his skin as his body tensed.

"You always work so hard…" she murmured seductively. "You need to let yourself relax…" Her tone of voice somehow made her words seem so unbelievably dirty. He felt his cock twitch underneath her.

Shouto looked at her with wide, panicked eyes as Yaoyorozu moved off of his hips, inserting herself in between his legs. Her warm hands slipped under his thin shirt once more, sliding up to his chest and exposing his waist.

"Hey—," he grunted, frustrated. Yaoyorozu leaned down, placing a long and thick lick up his stomach. He sharply inhaled. By now, his pants were uncomfortably tight, his bulge threatening to burst through the zipper. "Wait, Yaoyorozu," he weakly attempted to stop her.

"Shouto, please let me have a taste," she pouted cutely, laying over his hips as she looked up at him underneath her eyelashes. He froze as his heart skipped a beat.

Is this… seriously happening right now?!

The naughty hero kissed onto his stomach, causing him to writhe in excitement as he continued struggling against his restraints. Slightly panicking, he attempted to heat and cool each metal cuff to no avail.

Shit… This is bad…!

She popped open the top button of his pants, tugging at the zipper as it easily gave way to the thick lump in his boxers. Yaoyorozu licked her lips, tugging the fabric away and finally releasing his hardened member. Before he could protest, her warm tongue licked up the underside of his shaft.

"Gh—!"

Shouto's muscles tensed, pulling against the tight restraints as she started taking his cock into her unbelievably warm mouth. His heart was beating out of his chest as she continued. He desperately tried to calm his boiling blood as he watched her, eyes shut and clearly enjoying sucking on his rapidly hardening cock. Yaoyorozu swirled her tongue around his tip before taking him in her mouth.

Todoroki struggled to hold back a groan.

She pressed her tongue against the underside of his shaft as she sucked mercilessly, pulling his tip in and out slowly.

"Yaoyorozu…" he breathed huskily, beads of sweat forming on his body. He was completely hard now, waves of pleasure washing over his body each time her lips tugged across his pulsing shaft. She took one last lick across his long shaft before sitting back up.

"I can't take it anymore…" she said softly.

He exhaled, relaxing slightly at the short break she gave him as she got up, standing over his hips. Shouto gazed up at her, nervously sensing her lustful intent. Her hands reached for the side of her hips, hooking underneath the thin straps of her panties and tugging it slowly down her legs.

He swallowed as he caught a glimpse of her soaking pussy, curtained behind his large shirt. A string of her juices stretched from her panties, which were visibly drenched.

"Look how wet I got for you…"

Shouto was frozen in shock, suddenly flooded by an intense, raw desire to fuck.

He internally cursed to himself, scolding himself vehemently for his carnal urges. Yet he couldn't bring himself to say anything as he watched her lower herself on top of his hips.

A sharp grunt escaped from his lips as she sat down on top of him. He couldn't see it, but he knew his cock was pressed between his stomach and the mind-numbingly warm folds of her pussy, leaking her juices all over his shaft.

"I can take away all of your stress, Shouto…" she murmured flirtatiously as she started to grind on top of his twitching cock, his skin getting hot and slippery.

Holy shit… His mind was growing fuzzy from how insanely seductive she was.

Reaching down, she pressed his tip against the entrance of her tight vagina.

"Yaoyorozu…" he breathed, fingers balled into tight fists.

In one motion, she pushed his cock all the way inside of her, skin hitting against skin. Todoroki fought back a groan of pleasure as Yaoyorozu cried, feeling her tight pussy getting forcibly spread open and filled to the brim. She was incredibly warm, and he could feel her twitching deep inside as she enveloped his pulsing dick. It felt like he was about to burst inside of her from the sudden surge of pleasure. Shouto breathed heavily, the urge to climax right then and there quickly growing in his core.

"Wait," he begged desperately.

Ignoring his plea, Yaoyorozu began grinding her hips against his slowly, eliciting a loud groan from his lips. "Shouto," she moaned naughtily, "Your dick is so big…"

His cock stiffened inside of her as she verbally stroked his male pride. His body was filled with absolute bliss as she rode him, her wet pussy coaxing him to let a huge load out right against her womb. It took all of his focus to handle the pleasure, his body tense and filled with heat.

His hips nearly bucked when he felt her pulling his cock out, her pussy sucking onto his shaft hotly.

"Yaoyorozu!" He groaned almost painfully, desperately wriggling against his restraints. "You're going to… kill me…" She propped herself up on her arms, leaning over him and she started pumping the length of his cock in and out of her. The soft walls of her pussy struggled to grip onto his slippery shaft, it almost felt like she was sucking him in. His dick was twitching inside of her.

"Get off, NOW," he growled huskily.

The tip of his cock pressed against the base of her pussy, rubbing her deepest walls and making her legs weak with pleasure.

"Shouto, cum inside me," she begged.

His ears pricked at the sound of that, cursing under his breath as she tapped into his raw instinctive desire to impregnate. She sat up, enjoying the view of the heated pro hero, filled with pleasure and desperation. Picking up the pace, she continued stroking his pulsing cock with the clear intention of milking every last drop from him. Over and over, she moaned his name heatedly. Asking… begging for it.

If I don't do something, she's really gonna make me...

She could see his muscles tensing as he began freezing the tatami beneath his restraints, once more attempting to break free.

To spite his efforts, Yaoyorozu tightened her core around him, effectively driving him up a wall.

"Yaoyorozu," he groaned huskily. "I'm…"

She stubbornly and mercilessly rode his cock, against his protests. Finally giving in, Todoroki's hips started to forcefully buck into her to furiously work towards his climax.

"Shouto!" She cried, cumming all over his dick and sending him straight over the edge. Tip pressed firmly against her deepest walls, he moaned loudly as his cock spurt out a huge, hot load inside of her. He thrust into her a few more times, emptying out his pleasure.

Yaoyorozu pulled his cock out slowly as the icy-hot hero panted heavily underneath her. She sat up, looking down at the mess they created. His cum was slowly dripping out of her pussy and onto his dick.

"Oh no, it's dripping out," she pouted, panting as she spoke, "I wish I… wasnt on birth control…"

Todoroki stared up at her intensely, watching her biting down on her bottom lip. "Because I really want.. Shouto's baby..."

The look in his eyes turned dark and she could almost see the switch flipping inside of him.

This girl makes me want to sin.

Shouto immediately froze the ground beneath his hands, cracking the brittle tatami and breaking free from his restraints in one forceful, angry pull.

"Shouto—," she blurted out of surprise. Not wasting a second, he pushed her over onto the futon and quickly tugged off his shirt. Pinning her down, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth for a deep, heated kiss. Her hands grabbed at his back as he hungrily licked down to her neck, biting and sucking at her soft skin. Momo yelped when she heard the sound of fabric tearing, realizing he had easily ripped open the shirt to reveal her large breasts. He kissed down her collarbone before he licked her sensitive bud. Taking her nipple in his mouth, he tugged gently at her breasts as he sucked on her. The heated heroine cried out in pleasure, begging for more. She felt slightly intimidated as he sat up, looking down at her with an intense sexual hunger. He gripped her thighs, abruptly pushing her legs up and open for him.

"Shouto," she yelped, feeling her core tighten with excitement.

"Yaoyorozu, you don't know how long I've been burying these feelings to touch you," he murmured, pressed his thick cock inside of her once more. His full dick entered her tight pussy easily, welcoming his large girth inside.

Her heated voice cried out, shivering at the feeling of him hitting deeply right away. Shouto started thoroughly drilling her tight wet hole, holding her legs still as she squirmed from overwhelming pleasure.

"It's so deep," she whined helplessly. He pulled out halfway before stuffing her pussy full of his cock, balls pressed up against her. Holding back was the last thing on his mind. He was making a huge mess of her, stirring up her insides and digging out the cum he had recently filled her with. Her pussy tried desperately to grip his cock tightly, getting stretched and bullied constantly by his thick shaft.

I need more...

Todoroki leaned down to kiss her deeply, muffling her uncontrollable heated moans. Her toes were curling from pleasure. Her pussy wasn't letting him go, begging for him to fill her up to the brim with hot cum. Pulling away from her lips, he sat up to focus pounding away at her. His hands gripped firmly around her slender waist, holding her still as he thrust into her.

"Shouto," she cried over and over, fueling his libido. He wanted to drown in her voice, heatedly calling out for him. Moving with every intention to make her scream, Shouto gave her no choice but to handle all the pleasure he was giving to her.

"Fuck your birth control…" he growled huskily, "I'll give you a baby if you beg me to."

"Yes," she moaned with an urgency in her voice, "Please, I want it, Shouto, please."

He slipped his arms underneath her knees, hooking her legs up and open wide for him. Getting on top of her slightly, Shouto fucked her deeply, barely pulling out. The room was filled with the sound of heated panting and skin hitting skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he leaned over her, completely dominating her.

"Yes!" she moaned repeatedly, continuing to coax him to cum inside of her. He felt himself nearing his climax, tensing up to contain the intense pool of pleasure building up in his core.

"Shouto," she breathed, murmuring into his ear, "I love you."

He clenched his jaw, growling as passion overtook his body. Gripping the sheets beneath them, Shouto gave it to her hard and fast. Yaoyorozu came quickly, arms wrapped tightly around him as she let out a choked moan. Tightening and twitching beneath him, Shouto gave one final thrust into her pussy before violently shooting his cum inside of her. He groaned into her neck, releasing all of his heated tension as he was pressed balls deep inside of her. Momo tangled her fingers into his hair soothingly as they breathed heavily.

Absolutely spent, Shouto lifted his head to look at Momo, only to find her passed out peacefully.

His hand went up to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. Quietly leaning down, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you," he murmured into her ear, "Yaoyorozu."

[nd-babblinggoblinfromthevoid]

Seeing some other users pop up who also have pots, and reading their past and current struggles has inspired me to write a little about my experience. (From what I remember anyway.)

Just in case, tw/cw pregnancy loss is mentioned.

My symptoms started right smack at 13. I had always been slightly heat sensitive but not enough to really think about it. Then I turned 13 and it was like I was burning constantly. But also, even when I was hot, my extremities would still sometimes be ice cold.

I fainted in the shower, daily. I almost always felt it coming beforehand. The sudden dizziness and weakness. It was my normal routine to feel that, lie down, black out, wake up, then resume my shower. (Usually 5-15 minute black outs)

I knew something was wrong, but I was a young teen. My thoughts were "too scared to address it" and "I'm just being a baby" and "What doctor is gonna believe a teenager these days". So I suffered through it.

It was horrible. My teen years were riddled with unnoticed tachycardic episodes brushed off as "you're out of shape" and "just push past it". Meanwhile i felt like i was dying.

I know teenagers biologically need more rest, but i was chronically fatigued and of course, "lazy teenager" label got thrown at me constantly. I tried to stay active, productive, but it got harder and harder. (Not knowing I also struggled bcuz of audhd but that subject is touched on in a previous post.)

When I really branched out into life and into the workplace at 18/19, it hit me that this wasn't going away. This wasn't a weird teenage thing i was experiencing.

I could work, but was significantly more exhausted than my coworkers and the only one ever to stop a lot, Cool down, rest. Drove managers nuts because "you're too young to be this way" was said to me constantly.

Through a few job changes in my early twenties it got harder and harder to work. Exhaustion. Overheating. Tachycardia. I fainted at work idk how many times during a really bad streak.

On top of pots brain fog, I'm audhd (which i didnt know until mid-late twenties) so my brain just doesn't brain for me and all I had going for me were labor jobs. That's all i had. That's all i knew i could do.... and i was slowly becoming unable to do that.

I didnt push to see a cardiologist until i got pregnant with my first child. I was terrified. That pregnancy exacerbated my pots and i thought that pregnancy was going to kill me. If it didnt, then giving birth would. My resting hr was regularly in the 140s/150s and i was fainting/near fainting all the time.

But i saw a dick of a cardiologist who nearly immediately dismissed me as a hysterical pregnant woman who just had anxiety. Even in our first consult appointment he was already very not hiding the fact that he wasn't taking my concerns seriously. Even after I told him these symptoms weren't just popping up during pregnancy. That it'd been most of my life. (In one ear out the other let me tell you)

I suffered horribly through that pregnancy not knowing i also had pots so my heartrate and blood pressure were bonkers whenever i went to appointments, not knowing that i only had high bp bcuz they'd check it after I'd sat down in the lobby, stood up, then immediately sat down in a room. Which as y'all know fucks hr/bp and all that without being pregnant. But we didn't know. And the only dr I'd seen, dismissed me.

I thankfully got through the pregnancy and all was well. My symptoms went back to pre-pregnancy intensity. Life, a loss in between, and another full pregnancy happened. This time my pots didn't overly act up. I only struggled bcuz that baby was a biggg one.

After recovering from my 2nd birth i thought for months about everything. My health. My life with my kids. How i was sick of not having answers. Sick of how that first dr treated me. So i told my primary all of this and she sent me to the same heart institute, but a different dr.

NOW THIS DR LET ME TELL YOU.

From the GETGO the vibe was different. He listened. Talked with/to me not AT me. Actually listened with the intention of listening and absorbing the information, not listening with the intent to say whatever he was already wanting to say and just waiting until i stopped talking (like the previous dr)

He took me seriously. After info dumping my 16 years of suffering he was already ready to get testing done and scheduled and i nearly cried when he left the room because HE LISTENED HE TOOK ME SERIOUSLY.

I had my testing done (tilt and breathing) and he saw me for the followup but they hadnt gotten the results back so he pushed the dept for the results and one hour after that appointment, he called me and said basically "yea you failed the test almost immediately and your results were consistent through the whole thing so I'm proceeding with the diagnosis of pots"

He explained the basic no cure but you can try xyz to help and you need to listen to your body when it's having symptoms dont ignore it to your detriment. All that.

I hung up. And cried all evening/night. Happy tears. Tears of relief. I got my answer. I was listened to. I actually got through it. But also tears of grief. For the girl who suffered. For the young woman who thought she was gonna die during pregnancy/birth.

I'd had (and still slip into sometimes) a harsh mindset of self hate for years. Why am i so lazy. Why am i so weak. Pathetic. Etc. It just spiralled all the time and pots + audhd is a shitty mix and to be approaching 30, with answers I've wanted and needed for half of my life.... I just... uff da! It's a lot.

I was diagnosed February of this year. So it's still kind of fresh for me. I'm still trying to find what works for me officially to navigate it. But I definitely am trying to give myself grace for all the years I thought everything was my fault. Or that I just wasnt trying hard enough.

I'm sure I've missed some things but my memory of my life is really patchy from audhd and trauma. But I think this covers the bulk of it and feels good to info dump about life when, for most of it, I bottled everything.

[memorymessage]

i'm starting to believe i may have a very odd and extreme presentation of covid sequelae/long covid, as the doctors have been suspecting

aside from the unprecedented and confounding presentation of targeted neck and face vascular and tissue inflammation, there are a lot of overlapping symptoms with my vaccine reaction: dizziness, weakness, exercise intolerance, fatigue, increased exhaustion, heart palpitations.

what stumps me is the very noticeable differences—when my vaccine reaction started, it quickly hit like a truck, rose to its worst all within the first month, plateaued around the second, and started slowly dissipating around the third. a lot of the more severe symptoms lingered, but their severity decreased from initial onset.

what is happening now is that exact opposite—i am steadily getting worse on a week-to-week and sometimes day-to-day basis. i have not experienced a lingering plateau since this started.

and, yes, you cannot compare a vaccine reaction to long covid, especially since my covid infection was recent and the virus has gone through a myriad of mutations throughout the years. i undoubtedly caught a very strong variant, as documented here in my pseudo-journal entry with the illness.

yet, another stark difference is just how visible this illness has been—the swelling of my tissues and vascular system, all specific to my neck and head. during my vaccine reaction my illness was entirely "invisible". the only traceable change in my physiology was a sudden and steep drop in my usual blood pressure and resting heart rate. conversely, my bp and rhr remain unaffected in my current illness, aside from a couple instances of my rhr uncharacteristically dropping to 50.

i've mused on all of this before, saying that a long covid diagnosis would be a blessing. i can deal with being ill if it isn't life threatening. i'm quite used to that existence... for as little of an existence as it is. but there are still too many unknowns here for me to believe this is long covid.

i have yet to go to the long covid clinic in seattle, but every doctor i've asked if they've seen long covid present with targeted swelling have said no. the doctors have largely been stumped with what is causing my issues—even long covid doesn't match my symptoms.

so i remain skeptical and anxious. i still don't know what the future has in store. for now, i remain bedbound.

it's a very pitiful existence when even going to the bathroom for some relief on my GI tract sends me into a monumental wave of exhaustion after the fact. my limbs feel like shaking, wet jelly. it's also a shame that this inflammation has impacted my eyesight so much. i have black spots in my vision, and everything is blurry. i can't really read anything unless it's directly up to my face, like my phone.

[dairogo]

Find the word tag game

Finished my draft of my accreditation this morning (I AM INVINCIBLE) so while I'm waiting for feedback I can indulge in tag games and my own writing :')

Thanks @scienceoftheidiot for the tag! Your stuff was all so intriguing that I'm fighting to find the best examples for mine! Couldn't see a ruleset, so I'm assuming it's Search your WIPs and share an excerpt including the words you've been tagged to find.

Words given: dull, blind, dirty, broken, frown.

I'm going to tag: @griseldabanks, @theaceofdragons, @klainelynch, @raisingmybanner, and @sassydefendorflower - if you're keen!

Your words will be: exhausted, quickly, sleep, breathe, delight (or their variations if you can't find these ones.)

Word: Dull (found in the SvsV prologue, Penny POV)

“Only, you’re doing so much better that we thought you could do your HSC exams at a conventional school,” Mrs Woods said, reaching across the breakfast table to squeeze Penny’s hand.

“Mum! It’s okay - Distance Ed. isn’t that bad,” Penny said, trying not to sound too apologetic as she slipped her hand away so that she could eat her cereal.

“This is your last year of school! Don’t you want your best chance to get accepted to ANU with Steph?”

Penny’s pink water glass oozed into a dull grey-green.

“I- I don’t-”

“Or Sydney University! You wouldn’t have to live in student housing then, and the commute isn’t that bad when the train lines are up.” Chest tightening, Penny darted a glance to her left, where her father was just sitting down, having fetched his glasses to better ensconce himself within the weekend newspaper. In an old T-shirt and shorts that had been demoted to pyjamas, Mr Woods didn’t have the morning energy that Mrs Woods did, and couldn’t be relied upon to engage in conversations of substance this early. He simply met Penny’s eyes, shrugged his thick eyebrows and turned his attention back to the newspaper.

“We could find a new school for you,” Mrs Woods offered.

A wave of dizziness came over Penny, like a chasm had torn through the carpet and cement beneath her.

What they wanted was the same thing, really: normality.

-

Word: Blind (found in SvsV chapter 17 - one character's name redacted in case it spoils anything, Penny POV)

“John said he gave it to you,” [redacted] said, and with the mention of Lighthouse’s various communications, his eyes were drawn to the blank screen of her illusion’s phone.

As he snatched at it, Penny wrenched herself to the side, trying to move the illusion cohesively. His fingers passed through one illusive hand, and her tiny subterfuge became apparent. Penny heaved back against his grasp, clutching at the lifeline of her phone.

The ground began to sway, Penny’s head swimming in turbulent currents. As she overbalanced, one foot landing heavily on uncertain ground, [redacted]'s firm grip on her forearm wrenched her shoulder, keeping her suspended.

Unaffected, [redacted] pulled her up painfully. Penny had been certain that his power was to do with the senses - this vertigo was incomprehensible.

Blind to where she really was, [redacted]'s arm swept out, crashing into her side. While Penny was still overcome he yanked the phone out of her grasp and pocketed it along with his own.

“Stop hiding,” he barked, marching her over to her lounge.

Penny stumbled along on feet that kept missing where she aimed. “I- I can’t-”

The buffeting current stopped, and Penny’s legs, although weak from the ordeal, found their footing.

“Balance?” she panted.

“There are more senses than you’d expect.”

-

Word: Dirty (found in SvsV chapter 4, Simon POV, literally the only time the word has been used in the whole WIP)

Keats was still eyeballing the window. “You left this open in the night?”

“Only a few inches, to keep air flow,” Simon said, bristling. “I normally close it before I go to sleep, but I forgot.” A stupid mistake. His eyes had been stinging from fatigue, so he’d packed up his things at his desk and plodded off, forgetting to close it behind him.

“And how recently did you clean any of these surfaces?”

The desk got a vague wipe if he spilled anything on it, but the rest of it didn’t really get dirty. He’d run a rag over it a few months ago to get rid of dust. This seemed to disappoint the officers.

“We can have a look to see if there’s any definitive marks around, but it’ll probably just be yours.”

“Right.”

-

Word: Broken (found in SvsV chapter 28 - rough draft with bits still to be filled in, Li Hua POV)

“What happened?” she gasped, taking in the jags and bumps of the bloodless rock where the break had occurred.

“It broke, didn’t it? I had to choose between dying in a cell, or having a concrete hand and then they bloody broke it. And the record!”

The emotional-support record.

Simon, lurking by the coffee table, shared a tired glare with Li Hua. “You can fix a broken record. Sound quality might be worse, but it’s possible.”

Phillip yelled, kicked the coffee table, and yelled some more. Li Hua said “Woah” to him a hundred times over, like she was trying to calm a horse, while Simon [or Angus did something].

“That doesn’t matter,” Phillip [blahed], continuing his track back and forth, “since I left it behind.”

“Simon picked it up,” Li Hua said.

Phillip’s pacing stopped. Shock had replaced the irritation writ in the lines of his face, a softening that didn’t last for long. He held his hand out as though expecting the record to land in it.

A pink palm was rimmed with red, blistering skin. Li Hua gaped, twisting to see the backside of his hand, where skin seemed to curl and peel. None of this damage had been there just an hour earlier, as they sat by the skatepark talking.

“Give me the record,” Phillip said.

-

Word: Frown (found in SvsV chapter 25, Penny POV)

First Simon mentioned superpowers.

Then Li Hua brought up the invisible girl, like she knew Penny. Knew about Penny. It could have been about the comic books and movies that Brody liked to compare her to, but that hope was just meaningless pleading by the time Penny understood that Phillip had been claiming to have some kind of [disease] that killed everyone at Thornrow.

Penny could do nothing but watch in horror as they skimmed by her past, throwing her on the table and dissecting her, her last shreds of secrecy taken by the time Magnum and Damian came up. She shouldn’t have come.

She’d told Simon she couldn’t, and she should have just stayed in the hotel with her panic attack over letting Simon walk to his death. Nice, sweet Simon, who frowned as a first reaction to everything but was just dealing with the hand he’d been dealt. Who opened up a conversation about superpowers with a vampire and an unknown.

--

Ughhhhhh I love this story so much. These stupid people who I just want to mess with <3

[lostwillothewisp]

I feel faint and very weak. And honestly I love it?

Lying in bed exhausted after a long day at work and school, 16k steps, lifting weights, and barely eating feels amazing.

The dizziness, the fatigue, the headache, it's everything I need. It's proof I'm doing something right.