#it's made the sucky week suck less

[leglessstreetlights]

i'm very slepy, and my allergies are actively betraying me, but i just wanted the clown jury to know that i got a 30 on the ACT :D

[pedgito]

need me some slow, romantic, maybe a little rough, sex with our baby boy boyfriend tom pls (only if you feel so inclined)

author's note: this is just...yeah. we can all dream.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) established relationship, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, face slapping/grabbing, the soft rough sex i’ve ever written

word count: 3.7k

Tom's voice is muffled in the valley of your breasts, still covered by the frilly lace of your bra. Your shirt is shoved to the side, along with most of his clothes, both of you having haphazardly undressed, too eager to touch one another, skin to skin.

He's been planning for a week, trying to get everything just right, all the small details - setting the mood, as he calls it - all for it to end up crumbling as soon as he woke up that morning.

The restaurant he'd made reservations at? Closed. The sunny, bright weather he had expected? Overshadowed and overcasted by rain. He even called off today—which was quickly ruined by a phone call begging him to fill in for a sudden no-show. He's been running on empty most of the afternoon into the evening and by the time you step foot into his caravan you can see it.

He's done. So utterly done that he can't even think of an apology. But, he doesn't need one.

There was this outstanding expectation that he needed to get your one year anniversary perfect, a fear of dropping the ball and disappointing you, that you might find some reason to leave him.

Everyone left him; that wasn't a secret. It's why he's secluded himself away here. He wasn't unhappy, it was nice here—but things could be better.

You shush his apologies as he speaks against your chest, hands running a fury of waves along your skin, up your side and down toward your thigh, hooking your leg over his hip and widening his legs, rubbing his cock against your middle, finding him as hard as you'd expected.

He's begging for it—to be with you, to have his way with you.

"God, really fuckin' need you," He sighs, lips dragging along your collarbone and toward your clavicle, trailing until he reaches your lips, pulling you into a deep, searing kiss, "you look beautiful."

"I've got no makeup on and I ran over here after my shower," You respond, a giggle in the back of your throat, "I'm in my pajamas, christ—Tom, are you alright?"

"Tried to make things perfect for you," He admits, pulling back slightly to look at you, the low light of his trailer and the television screen in the corner of the room illuminating his face, the soft cupid bow of his lips jutting out as he pouts, "didn't even cook you a proper dinner."

"We can eat later," You assure him, even though it's nearing close to ten and the only place open was a twenty minute drive, "I'll cook or something, it's not a big deal."

"You deserve it." Tom says sternly, brow furrowing in response to your carefree attitude. "This sucks, doesn't it?"

"It'd be a lot less sucky if you'd fuck me," You respond bluntly, "had a long day, don't care about the fuckin' food. I just want you."

"Yeah?" His eyes light up—you were the remedy to it all.

"Need you," You say softly, pulling at his shirt, fingers fisting into the ends until you can yank it over his head, "want you inside me."

"But, I wanted to—"

"Tom, for my sanity," Your eyebrows raise in annoyance, begging him to skip the sweet gesture of going down on you—as much as you enjoyed it, you'd much rather have his cock inside you, "please?"

Now, preferably.

He's got enough sense to pull your underwear off, rather than push them aside. Most of the time, it's fumbling, rushed quickies between shifts because you're both too insatiable to avoid each other and Tom's too impatient to get you fully undressed.

He's not surprised that you're already wet, his cock springing free from his own underwear as he navigates it down his hips and off, settling between your legs again with a soft nudge to the line of your cunt, the head of his cock pressing gently, catching your clit.

You grumble, a quiet noise that Tom otherwise wouldn't hear if it weren't for how still the air was outside, aside from the occasional howl out in the distance. He gets the idea though, wasting no more time to press inside you.

The fit is tight, a little resistant at first, a result of your impatience. A slow rock of Tom's hips does the trick, easing inside of you like home and your collective sighs filling the air.

He's got his hands locked under your knees, rubbing at the sensitive skin in the joint there as he holds them close to his body, a little higher than his hips so the angle feels deeper, more intense. Your open palm presses against his chest, fingers dragging against the thin patch of hair in the center, catching on the silver pendant hanging around his neck.

"S'this what you needed?" Tom asks, a warmness to his voice that only came in moments like these, rough around the edges from the strain his pleasure held on him.

You nod eagerly, a small gasp leaving your mouth as he folds you in more, angling his hips deeper. He opts for his hands pressed into the sheets on either side of you, your legs still secured tightly around him. You clench, an involuntary action caused by the quick switch in position, his cock hitting some deep spot inside you that makes you want to curl in on yourself.

"Oh, fuck," Tom curses, eyes falling shut for a brief moment before flicking up toward you, "love, we talked about that."

You're lost, drowning in the high of your own pleasure, so much so that his words don't even register, nodding absently in an attempt to seem coherent. You do it again, a little less on accident as your fingers wrap around his tensed forearms and squeeze, his pace quickening slightly at the tight squeeze of your cunt.

"Hey, you listenin' to me?" Tom asks, a tinge of impatience in his tone.

"Mhm, yeah." You answer idly.

You weren't. At all.

He's got his eyes on you again, contorted in a mix of confusion and frustration as his thrusts slow, a hand coming to reach for you face, chin squeezed between his fingertips as he forces your attention.

"Wanna try that again?" Tom asks, a subtle smirk crossing his features. "S'goin' on with you?"

You shake your head carefully, still caught in his firm grip.

"I'm fine," You insist, "jus' really needed you. This."

And frankly, you wanted to lose yourself a bit. Forget about everything going on, all the stress and worry—be with Tom in this moment and enjoy it. But, he worries, he cares. It takes a moment for it to click, the impish, needy look on your face, begging without saying the words.

Tom didn't often try and get rough. He enjoyed the soft, intense slowness of sex. Two people holding on, grabbing and squeezing and feeling one another. He'd bury his head into the crevice of your neck and listen to the small sounds you made, soft moans and little squeaks of pleasure when he felt his own orgasm approaching, pace quickening until it consumed you both.

Your eyes fall shut, a long sigh on your lips as he leans up, hands returning to your knees and spreading your thighs further apart. There's a soft cry that leaves you, his palms spreading out over your stomach, all warm and calloused, rough from his job and the occasional working out that he did. He squeezes your waist, silently asking you to keep your legs spread open like this, pulling you back against his cock until the force is scooting you up the bed a fraction with every thrust, cries quickly turning into loud, unconstrained moans.

"Look at me." He pleads, crestfallen when you shake your head.

"C—can't," You argue, seeing stars behind your eyelids, "s'too much."

Tom quirks his head slightly, feeling annoyed, selfishly, that he can't have you look at him. He's not one to force or demand or give ultimatums but he needs it. He stops dead in his tracks, sacrificing his own need for release to get what he wants.

You sigh, frustrated, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands.

"M'not asking." He tells you, "I can stop, if we need to."

Your eyes quickly retch open, staring back in bereavement.

"Fucks gotten into you?" You ask, taking a full body glance at the man before you—the man currently seethed inside you. His chest is flushed a deep red, rising and falling quickly. His lips are parted, brow furrowed in annoyance but his eyes still soft. "S'gonna be like that?"

"If it needs to be," Tom counters, shrugging slightly, "—does it?"

You huff, "You're getting teazy, stop it."

Tom laughs at that, a short chuckle through his nose as he moves his hips an inch, settling back into a slow rhythm.

And he almost - almost - believes that you can follow through, but when things settle back into a comfortable pace, you're right back to your previous state, eyes closed in an attempt to block out the distractions, feel him.

He's reaching a boiling point, grabbing your face roughly in an attempt to catch your attention, but when it doesn't, he tries a different method. It's not the first time he's gotten rough, per-say, but it's a far cry from what you're used to—and it isn't until his hand comes down in a sharp slap across your face that you're realizing how much you don't really mind it.

It's not aggressive or harsh, but a solid reminder of what he's asking - no, demanding - of you. And you can see the instant regret on his face when your eyes open, widened slightly at the shock of it all. It's tense, his eyes searching desperately until you can't help but laugh, hands covering your mouth in an attempt to quiet yourself.

"Fuck, that's—sorry," Tom spills out, prying you hands away gently to rub at the spot, face hot from the sting, "that was - too much, wasn't it?"

You shake your head hesitantly, actually thinking it over—Tom was good at making you feel safe, even now, and if you couldn't have a small change in dynamics when it came to sex, then what was the point? And it doesn't snuff the fact that you definitely didn't hate it, at all.

"Do it again?" You asks softly, Tom sharing your confusion and amusement now as his hand pulls back, balls up into a tight fist and unfurls.

"Are you—you're okay with that?" Tom asks.

"You're not trying to hurt me, are you?" You ask assuredly. Tom doesn't waste a second, shaking his head. "Then?"

"But I mean—it does hurt, doesn' it?"

You shrug, "Feels kinda good," You smile, giggling at his quick change in expression, something hiding deep behind his eyes, "you wanna make me feel good, yeah?"

Tom snorts out a short laugh, your cheeky and nefarious behavior easing his worries. "Always."

"So," You start, baring your chin up slightly, heels digging into his ass as you pull him in against you, his thrusts having slowed to a stop again after he's momentary freak out, "do it - again."

Tom grunts softly, forced forward and nearly falling over you in the process. He laughs again, a soft sound as he runs tenderly at your chin bared before him, pulling his hand back gently to give you a soft slap against your cheek.

Your eyes narrow, sighing and resting back fully into your pillow. He didn’t have it in him, clearly—not when he’s being put on the spot. 

“Really, that's all you got?” You say patronizingly, “M’not gonna break, Tom—I’m asking for it.”

He slaps you suddenly, without warning, hair fanning across your face. It’s exhilarating, heart racing in your chest as you gasp, surprised by the sudden strike. There’s an involuntary clench around his cock at the action, that pit in your group igniting again, his hips rocking slowly.

You nod slightly, which is a good a sign as any. His day had been awful, you could see it. It's not like you're asking him to take it out on you—use you in ways you would've never imagine otherwise, but it feels like fair play. You were just as frustrated, if not more, dealing with unruly and inconsiderate people all day.

Usually you would opt toward complaining and venting at one another, not arguing, rather just telling each other about your day - though, vividly and animatedly. But, considering the circumstances, the importance surrounding the day; it felt okay.

He snaps his hips once, roughly, a small yelp escaping you.

Tom smirks, a small chuckle coming from behind his grin.

"You like that?" Tom asks, knowing full well of your answer. He does it once more, timing it with another quick slap to the opposite side of your face.

His eyes light up when your tongue pokes at your cheek, daring him to do more. "Fuck, you're not real, you know that?"

"I'm right here, you fucker," You snark, mouth splitting into a smile when he shakes his head, "yeah, yeah—I get it, Tom."

He's poured his heart out to you more than once, little was left to be said that you didn't already know. Tom truly couldn't believe that you were real some days, a tangible person in front of him, one that often woke up beside him in bed and cuddled into his side, all warm and soft and mumbling to yourself in your sleep.

Tom buries his face into your neck for a brief moment, continuing his sharp, rough thrusts as he fists the fabric beside your head, rutting into you in a way that felt animalistic, the sharp jut of his pubic bone rubbing against your clit, the sound of skin slapping harshly against skin. The comforter had fell to the floor at some point, along with your clothes, and you whine, nails digging into Tom's skin when he hits the perfect point inside of you, his hand shooting to your hip to keep you there, still you.

"Got an idea," He rushes out, sounding breathless, "turn around."

And as argumentative as you like to be, not a word is said. You scramble shifting around until your on your belly, Tom's hand reaching under your thigh to pull your ass upright, the other smoothing down your back until he's got you in a position that pleases him, his hips rocking slowly against your backside, not entering, but nearly.

"You'll tell me if you don't like something, right?" It's a check in, a silent warning that things might reach a boundary you couldn't handle. But, you trusted Tom—you'd repeat it until you were blue in the face.

"I trust you." You respond, it's not what he's looking for.

His hand fists your hair, wrangling your head until the left side of your face is shoved into the mattress, giving you a side glance at him, though it's uncomfortable to make the effort to look. You huff gently, his eyebrows raising in question.

He didn't need to speak.

"Yes—yes, I'll tell you. Of course." You assure him, a surge of pride mirroring his satisfaction as he releases his hold, though lacking the normal gentleness.

"Good, good," He murmurs to himself, a strong grip on your hips as he presses into you, sliding back inside with ease, but his pace is nothing but easy, "stay like that."

You nod, breath hot and wet against the sheets as he holds you at an angle that feels painful - it should feel painful - but it's a dull ache in comparison to how good everything else feels. You cry, throwing caution to the window when you stifle the noise into the sheets, turning your head slightly.

“Hey,” His voice is a warning, tense as he yanks your head back to the side, squeezed between his fingertips as he forces your mouth open, “fuck did I just say, love?”

“Sorry,” You gasp out, garbled by the tight grip he had, “I’m—‘m sorry, Tom.”

He watches you carefully, thrusts deepening and his brow furrowing slightly, feeling you tightening around him, the small inclination that you were getting close.

His thumb catches your bottom lip, rubbing at the softness of it and thinking about how they always taste softly of mint, obsessively reapply your chapstick in fear of chapped lips. It did it’s job, at least.

“Are you?” Tom challenges, thumb slipping past your bottom row of teeth and over your tongue, “Are you really?”

You nod, a needy movement that has you wiggling back against his cock, changing the angle immensely.

Tom groans deeply, switching out his thumb for his pointer and middle, “Suck.” He orders, your mouth closing around his fingers without question.

He watches carefully, mouth parted at the sight because even with him buried inside of you, your mouth still drives him mad. He pulls away after a moment, feeling the wetness was sufficient enough and angles his hand until he can press them against your clit, the sound that escapes you is nothing short of rewarding for him.

“Hey, huh uh,” He chides, “no coming until I say you can.”

“That’s not fuckin’ fair.” You nearly shout, rearing back in an attempt to look at him. The hand not busy working you to the brink fists your hair, forcing you back down into the pillow, allowing Tom to easily overpower you.

“Say the words,” Tom says, “we can stop.”

Just a few simple pleas, a snap of your fingers, it would all be over. Tom would have you back under him, on your back, whispering all the sweetest words he could muster but that’s not what you’re looking for. You can play the game for now, allow him the little fun he seeks from it.

You shake your head stubbornly, gasping inwardly when his fingers speed up, the soft pad of his fingertips swirling over your clit until you’re white knuckling the sheet, gasping on nothing but stale air - and he’s pulling back.

It’s torture. Actual, full on, torture.

He notices you trying to make the effort, eyebrows creased in concentration and annoyance, that ache in your gut growing stronger and stronger until it hurt. But, he’s not as unreadable either, his thrusts faltering slightly as your bodies fall, his front pressed tightly against your back, hot and sweaty bodies molding together.

You can’t be bothered to complain.

His arm is still tucked tight under you, circling your clit gently as you come back down from the near orgasm, stopping every so often until he sees your face relax, another subtle nod his direction.

“God, feel so good around me,” Tom sighs, teeth digging into your shoulder lightly, muffling whatever sounds followed, “fuck—gonna let me come inside, yeah?”

“S’dangerous.” You mumble, still, your mind throwing all precaution to the window.

“Fuck it—let me,” Tom begs, “S’just this once.”

You sigh softly, nodding despite your best interests.

“Don’t worry, love,” Tom assures you, “I’ll go out and buy the pill—s’much as I’d love seeing you like that m’not ready either.”

The heavier his slurs get, the closer he is - that and he’s panting loudly into your skin, broken gasps when you squeeze him just right.

“Gonna let you come,” Tom starts, “but you’ve gotta ask.”

“Tom.” You pout, bottom lip jutting out slightly. He can see it, but barely—the light in the overhead fixture is nearly out of juice, but if he squints, he can see you pretty well.

“Humor me?” Tom asks softly, “Please?”

And if there were any way to bring Tom back into himself, it was you. So, you throw on some of the theatrics for his sake.

“Oh—okay. Fuck, Tom—“ A sharp gasp, hand reaching between you and the sheets to grasp his wrist, the loose and languid circles quickly become a less of that and more determined—now that gasp, it’s genuine, “I’m right there—let me, can I—can I come, please?”

“Yes,” He nods furiously, “please—need to feel you come around my cock, love.”

Tom’s vision nearly whites out and he swears he loses consciousness for a moment, his fingers coming to a stop as he comes soon after, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks while he’s buried deep inside of you, spilling all he had to offer.

He groans long and loud, “Fuckfuck, oh my—please turn over, please—“

It’s clumsy but you manage, the ache in your hips noticeable as you flip over, quickly consumed by Tom’s lips pressed against your skin, like he’s trying to nuzzle into you and make a home. He moans, a soft sound, and it’s endearing.

“Hey, hey—“ You nudge, his head tilting up until you can barely see his eyes, before he’s hiding his face again and continuing his prior actions, mouthing a slow line of open-mouthed kisses along your neck, “Tom, seriously.”

He sighs - like a kid not getting their way.

“You got me all hungry now.” You complain.

Tom chuckles to himself, turning up to rest fully against you, head propped in his open palm, elbow resting in the small gap of your arm and your body. He grips your face gently with his free hand, shaking your face playfully.

��Worked up an appetite, huh?” Tom teases, “Whaddya say, takeout and a movie?”

You giggle softly, leaning your head down to kiss the small sliver of skin that connects his thumb and pointer finger before nodding in response.

“And then a little more of that.” You suggest, his face lighting up at the admission.

“Enjoyed it, didn’t ya?”

Tom really shouldn’t be as excited as he is, but it’s new and thrilling and part of the reason he just can’t enough of you.

“Too much.” You admit freely.

And Tom would take a million bad days if it meant he could have this, with you.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[godza]

college tip blog. transcript under the cut since it looks like shit on mobile

welcome to elise's second blog. this is an advice list, courtesy of me being done with my first year of college. i did kinda well for myself my first year (3.8/4 gpa) and that was accomplished despite going to the hospital for two weeks. we love to see it. these will de divided into three categories, dorms, academics, and involvement.

category one: DORMING

you may or may not be dorming, if you arent feel free to ignore me. college dorms are a lawless place full of hooligans. try to get one the quiet buildings if your school has them. mine didn't so i had to hear girls screeching over the bachelor every week. and lots of loud loud music. dorms are kinda sensory hell. be on very good terms with your roommate. they are on your team, if they aren't, try to negotiate with them so they stop sucking. my roommate was a bit of an alcoholic and had sex with a boy while i was in the room but she was nice most of the time.

don't get any decorations that take up surface area. your desk space is precious. decorate your walls only or bring small trinkets. make sure to bring your own lights, the room probably has one sucky overhead lamp. don't eat too often in the room, it absorbs smell and heat and will take forever to air out. get a small trashcan, not a big one. the big one will start to smell, and will be a bigger hassle to take to the dumpster. do your laundry way more often than you want to. towels and shit will pile up. use a towel twice, hang it on your closet door so it doesnt get smelly. bring a lot of clothes. you will not want to do laundry. rewear clothes before you wash them so you do less laundry. nobody will notice because they do it too. use the shit out of your meal plan. eat so much. the freshman 15 is a good thing. feel free to tell me more tricks, maybe i can use them next year!

category two: ACADEMICS

PARTICIPATE IN CLASS. RAISE YOUR HAND. participating will near automatically get you in the teacher's good books, and cause you to pay closer attention. wake up an hour or two before your first class of the day so you can get a good breakfast and time to take your morning slow. try to get to your work on time. i procrastinate a lot, im literally procrastinating my work by writing this. try to get your work done at least a day before the deadline, so you can feel relieved and proud of yourself. never feel shy to ask for extensions if you made poor time management decisions, most teachers won't mind.

professors aren't your friends, but they aren't your enemies either. stay on good terms with them, and they'll love you. you don't need to be a teacher's pet, just tell them good morning and raise your hand once a day. DON'T buy your textbooks before class starts. check libgen, check pdfdrive, for a free copy of your textbook. i tell this to everybody, even the professors. you will probably want a device of some sort, i recommend doing work on an ipad or other sort of tablet. i love the app pdfdrive, thats where i keep my textbooks to annotate them. notability is another useful school app. try not to skip class, and if you do, come up with an excuse to email the teacher. try to make friends in classes, or at least someone you would be able to do group projects with. you don't need to be actual friends, just someone who you can talk to about the class.

category three: INVOLVEMENT

JOIN CLUBS. JOIN A FUCK TON OF CLUBS. that's where you're most likely to make friends! join the art club, gsa, the club for your major, the gaming club, the anime club. i'm in choir, art, and anime club. these people have your interests, and you'll be able to pick out at least one person who is similar to you and tolerable. there should be a club fair at the start of each semester, check out every single table to see what's available. have fun!!!!!!!!!!

at my school, there is the main building where the gym, dining hall, and counseling offices are. the hallway leading to the dining hall is called main street. on main street, local and national business/volunteer groups will set up booths. i've signed up to donate stem cells there, i've sampled honey (tasted like shit), ive done all kinds of shit and gotten opportunities just by talking to the people at the tables. even if i'm not who they're looking for, i put my email on that list, to see if i could be that person in the future. when you're in the final two years of school, connections and experiences and internships will be huge. make yourself look good as fuck by taking advantage of as many opportunities as possible. put your name out there! do everything! doing things will make you happy, keep you busy and away from wallowing in your dorm room. you might love the new hobby you picked up, you might meet someone new, you might fucking hate whatever you do. now you know you hate that thing! now you know!

CONCLUSION

DO EVERYTHING. BE PREPARED BUT DON'T WORRY IF YOU AREN'T. YOU CAN DO IT I BELIEVE IN YOU. IF I GOT A NEAR PERFECT GPA WHILE HAVING THE WORST YEAR OF MY LIFE SO CAN YOU! remember: Cs GET DEGREES. try your best, that's all you can do!

[fruitcoops]

Ugh ugh ugh so i have a roommate and we are really close friends which is a amazing. she’s been sick for about two weeks now and it sort of goes in and out: it’ll be ok for a few days and then get kind of sucky. The last two days she’s not been feeling well so I’ve been cooking for her and trying to get her to take naps and stuff but she has this really horrid sounding cough? And this is way to much information but here’s the kicker: I’m not sure if I’ve developed a crush? Either way I just really want her to feel better and I want to just cuddle her and rub her back and stuff but I don’t want it to be weird in case I do have a crush?? ANYWAY point is I was hoping that if you have a sec and the inspiration strikes that you’d write some o’knutzy or coops suck cuddles. It’s nothing life threatening just y’know feeling gross and the other(s) trying their best to help. Also if you don’t feel like writing that you can just revel in the silly silly story and the image of coops and o’knutzy cuddles, which are always happy :)))) -lilo

Fic O'Ween Day 10 & 11: Scary Movie & Costumes! Combining these two into one because Halloweekend is busy : ) Lilo, I don't know the whole context here, but it sounds like this is less of a crush and more that you want to take care of someone you care about. If the feelings keep Feeling after she's better, then that might be a crush (feel free to ignore if that's not true). Character credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW illness (cough, stuffy nose), mention of throwing up (not described)

“You c’n go without me,” came a mumble from the pile of soft things on the couch. A sniffle followed. “I don’t mind.”

Leo sighed, easing himself into the space left over with a rub to the nearest socked foot. One sad, glassy eye peeked out from the depths of his own hoodie. “Harz…”

“S’okay, really,” Finn continued. “The party’ll be fun. I’ll be okay here.”

“We’re not leaving you alone like this.”

“I’m a big kid, I can—” A squeaky yawn interrupted him. “—handle it.”

“You don’t have to, though,” Leo said gently. They had been at it all afternoon, neither he nor Logan able to talk sense into a groggy and unhappy Finn. It had taken them long enough to lovingly bully him into letting them help once he realized he couldn’t get out of bed without wobbling—a headache had followed, then sniffles and a nasty cough, and by noon he finally gave in. The couch had been designated the ‘Sick Zone’. Finn alternated between naps and looking pathetic for the next six hours.

He fumbled for a tissue and blew his nose; Leo didn’t miss the wince that twitched at his shoulders and made a mental note to herd him into a hot shower as soon as possible. “I’m not exactly exciting right now.”

“And?”

“And so you should go to the—”

“No, Finn.”

“Go to the party!” he insisted, taking Leo’s hand in one of his clammy ones. “I promise I’ll be fine. You don’t have to sit here and worry over me when everyone else is having fun. They’ll miss you, Le.”

“And we would miss you.” Leo squeezed his hand. It felt warmer than before—too warm. He pushed down his worry and ran a thumb over the shadows beneath Finn’s eye. “I like you even when you’re not exciting, cher.”

The front door opened with a creak and they both looked up as Logan entered with an armful of grocery bags. His nose wrinkled. “Who closed the window? It’s—étouffant, you’ll stay sick if you don’t get air in here.”

“Finn was cold.” Leo leaned up for a kiss when Logan passed and saw him soften, looking between them on the couch. He made a small noise of agreement into Leo’s lips, then moved over to brush Finn’s hair off his forehead and leave a kiss in its wake.

“You’re hot, mon rouge.”

Finn cracked a smile. “Always am.”

Logan tsked at him, but the pass of his hand over the back of Finn’s head was gentle when he moved back to the kitchen. “I got your vegetables, Knutty, but I wasn’t sure what makes a medium onion different than regular ones.”

Leo blinked. “Are they…medium-sized?”

“That’s what I’m saying, I don’t know.” Several things clattered before Logan reappeared with two onions. “Is this medium? There were bigger ones and smaller ones.”

“How many onions did you buy?”

“Twelve.”

Leo laughed and started to get up, then paused and tucked Finn tighter under the blanket. “Don’t move.”

Finn gave him a rueful smile. “Can’t.”

“Shift change,” Leo teased, taking the onions from Logan.

A tug at his elbow stopped him just before he turned into the kitchen. “How long has he been that warm?” Logan asked, so quiet Leo could hardly hear him.

His heart sank. “Not sure. He wasn’t like that when you left, so I’d guess ten to fifteen minutes.”

Logan frowned. “Is he still talking bullshit about us going to the Halloween party?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty out of it, though.” Leo touched the fine bones of his wrist and smiled. “Thanks for going to the store, baby.”

Some of Logan’s worry lifted away into a pleased blush. “De rien, mon amour. Your food is always worth it.”

--

By 8 pm, Leo’s flu suspicions were confirmed in everything but a clinical diagnosis. Finn had given up on trying to convince them to have fun without him, laying his head in Logan’s lap or curling up tight against Leo’s ribs despite his feverish forehead. He dozed until dinner, managed to keep down a bowl of soup, and mustered just enough energy to argue with Logan as the evening’s entertainment.

I’m not going to throw up.

You look like you are.

No.

Just do it, you’ll feel better.

I would rather die.

He slept for 45 minutes to recover from such a harrowing conversation and did not—much to Logan’s annoyance—do the one thing that would make him feel better faster. Finn’s stubbornness, while rare, was damn near impossible to overcome. Leo was just grateful he took a hot shower with little cajoling, even if it meant he looked like the world’s cutest boiled lobster on the other side of it. The sides of his nose were starting to chap from the tissues. Better to nip that in the bud than deal with it for the next week and a half.

Finally, they settled on the couch and let the sounds of the TV fill the apartment. Leo could hear Finn breathing softly through his mouth while Logan combed his fingers through mostly-dry hair and rubbed Finn’s back at the same time. He pulled the edge of the blanket down over Finn’s feet and relaxed into the couch, exhausted. “Dumo sends well-wishes, by the way. Celeste wants to bring over some soup tomorrow.”

Finn made a quiet sound of acknowledgement; Logan cast him a smile that made Leo’s heart warm, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “Merci.”

“Boys?”

Leo’s sleepiness vanished in an instant and he sat up straighter, bending slightly to see Finn’s flushed face. “Hey, sweetheart, do you need something?”

He shook his head and shrugged the blanket up over his shoulder. “Can we—can we watch a scary movie?”

Leo looked over to Logan, whose face had fallen into something like distress. He raised a brow; Logan hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, ‘course we can,” Leo said. “Which one?”

“Don’t care.” One hand appeared to pat Logan’s knee. “You don’t have to stay for it. I know you don’t like them.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Logan promised with a kiss to the shell of Finn’s ear. “What kind of boyfriend would I be, eh? Leaving you when you’re sick. It hasn’t happened before and it won’t happen now.”

The faint sound of chaste kisses filled the background while Leo scrolled through the ‘Horror’ section. If he guessed correctly, Finn would be out cold in less than twenty minutes, and then they could change the show to something that wouldn’t petrify Logan for the next month. He didn’t have much of an opinion on scary movies, but that was one of the trials nobody warned him about when he got two boyfriends: movie night was like a judicial negotiation.

“Thank you for staying.” Finn’s voice was nearly inaudible against the opening music. “Both of you. This isn’t how you planned on spending the night, and you worked really hard to put together our costumes, so. You know. Thanks. And sorry.”

“Finn,” they chorused with equal degrees of heartbreak.

Leo pulled on the hem of his pajama pants until Finn looked back at him, altogether too drowsy and adorable for his own good. “If we had gone to that party, we’d spend the whole night worried about you because we care that you’re safe and healthy. Getting you Gatorade and making soup is what I wanted to do. It’s what we get to do for you, now.”

Finn still didn’t look convinced, but Logan moved his hand around to tip his chin up. “It’s not because you can’t take care of yourself,” he said quietly. “It’s because you don’t have to.”

It was a good thing Logan had guided Finn’s gaze away; Leo wasn’t sure he could have handled seeing whatever expression came across his face at that. The caving of Finn’s chest and the full-body tremor that went through him was enough to make his breath catch. “I know,” Finn rasped after a few moments. “God, sorry, I—yeah, I know. I’m working on it.”

“We know.” Leo folded a hand over his ankle, just for a point of contact. “I mean, yeah, I wish we could’ve gone because you’d look hot as Ferris Bueller and I desperately want to see Lo in a fringed jacket someday. But I’m not sad about staying in and watching movies, either. This is fun. Spending time with you two is what I want.”

Finn took a tissue from Logan and blew his nose with a miserable honk. “You never have been good at picking one or the other, huh?”

“Not once,” he laughed.

“Worked pretty well, though,” Logan noted. “I’m not complaining.”

“Choices are for chumps,” Finn agreed. It was good to see him smile. The moment was only ruined a little by a sudden, violent axe-murder occurring on the television—Leo counted them lucky that Logan didn’t launch their sick boyfriend off his lap with the force of his flinch.

“Can we please just watch Halloweentown?” he begged, clutching Finn’s shoulder and arm while Finn cackled himself into a coughing fit. “Or Casper? I’ll put up with Beetlejuice, I don’t care.”

“How about The Exorcist?” Finn suggested.

“I was thinking The Conjuring,” Leo added.

A flush rose to Logan’s cheeks and he leaned over to whack Leo on the arm with a pillow. “See if I ever buy you onions again, you ungrateful, evil, horrible—”

[barbylion]

literally just a list of my favorite webdramas and short-run tv dramas bc this is my house

My Fuxxxxx Romance (2020)

messy not-really love triangle where four people become friends in a bar. two of them start screwing around while the guy prefers open relationships and the girl's friend is hella toxic and in love/obsessed with her so she starts sleeping with the guy to prove he's shitty. the 2nd guy is there to be the foil/naiive one that's new to this whole world tbh. it's just a really great drama where there isn't a single character you're meant to like or cheer for. they're all sucky people in their own way lol. anyway, it was literally made around and to promote Park Won's album of the same name.

Please Find Her (2017)

it's CUTE, it's an ad for Itaewon, you learn some Korean at the end of every episode lol. about a mixed Dutch man named Jan who flies to SK to find the girl he fell in love with. the plot's a little all over the place, but it's an ad. and it's cute >:( Lee Hyun Jae is the love of my life. Hayoung and Hyungwon are there

You Raise Me Up (2021)

a man is going THRU IT with his life and self confidence and anxiety and everything genuinely sucks for him. his urologist and old gf (Hani) brags about him being this super amazing and jealousy-worthy first love bc her current boyfriend sucks. lots of emotional vulnerability and growth. i love it sm

The Witch's Diner (2021)

honestly this one's just fun! i love every single main actor, i love the dark witchy aesthetic. each ep follows a different main subject who needs their lives fixed in some way. but ofc if you make a deal with the devil/a witch, it's not gonna go exactly how you expected. idk i love this one, it's got my mother Song Ji Hyo in it

Little Mom Scandal (2008) and Little Mom Scandal Season 2 (2008)

a very old one that i watch yeeears ago but it still holds a special place in my heart. super real, less fairy-tale idealistic romance, as most 2000s dramas were. it's about an 18-year-old teen mom and her struggles with raising a baby, being a wife, and trying to live her life. the friendships in this one are what stuck out the most tbh. they're the primary focus, despite the title/attention grabber.

Birthcare Center (2020)

this one's about a successful career woman who suddenly finds herself pregnant. she spends the time after giving birth in a birthcare center, common places for moms to get help when starting out. she's self concious about being much older than the other women but makes a bunch of friends in the other mothers who have stories and struggles of their own and she actually has a healthy relationship with her husband. we love to see it. uh, found family :( <3

The Killer's Shopping List (2022)

about a guy who has an incredible memory and is locally praised for stopping a dangerous robbery when he was a kid but struggles to pass his civil service exam. he's determined to make it while working at his mom's convenience store. but a murder happens at the apartment building he frequently delivers to and they're huge suspects bc the delivery bag at the victim's house. so he, the market workers, and his cop gf (Seolhyun) try to solve the serial murders themselves. it has good queer rep imo, not gimmicky but not so subtle it might as well not be there.

Our D-Day (2023)

big tw for suicide mention, attempts, and ideation. tw for abuse, as well

it's still airing! one week left. but it's about a suicidal 30-year-old and his friends all trying to navigate their lives. he literally spends the entire drama so far trying to figure out how to end things and you slowly learn why throughout. it's pretty dark right from the beginning tbh but they balance it with humor that might not be everyone's taste. tbh it just feels real to me, so that part doesn't personally bother me. i do know why it would affect someone else, though. definitely not for people sensitive to the subject matter.

[ssaalexblake]

This week on STP.  Soap Opera: Picard commences.

(imagine me staring an 100 yard stare) 

Not even gonna go there. If I wanted to read this type of plot, I would go read it where it belongs... In a fanfic. Eh. I am withholding judgement for now under the technicality that assumptions are not canon and i’m not sure if i’m being generous to the writers for giving them the benefit of the doubt or if i’m grasping at the last few straws i have, but here we are. 

Mostly, as somebody who isn’t even a tng lover i feel bad for what is apparently being done to beverly here like damn, really??

amanda plummer aced every second of screen time she had, kudos! Was legit threatening and nice visual references, also. 

Michelle Hurd also has me by the Neck. Raffi’s been mistreated so bad. This never should have been a thing she was told to do for very valid reasons. Also, in a vaguely introspective way i’m like okay Section 31... The people working for it probably aren’t the kind of people all steeped in starfleet principles. Which is why Raffi can’t do it. She is too principled of a person. 

Honestly thought the computer handler was threatening Raffi with that comment about another body. Was legit surprised she just managed to turn the screen off. 

The convo with the ex annoyed me because like, from the character exploration they did with Raffi last season there are canonically a few good reasons her family aren’t in contact with her that are legitimately a ‘her problem’ kind of thing. This is not what happened here and i felt they unintentionally leant into some uncomfortable sexist notions when doing it. And they could easily have made that less infuriating by just leaning on last season’s work instead. But then again, from the ex’s clientele it looks like he’s not like... The Most Moral Dude Ever? Actually... going back to S1 and Raffi’s son being on hyper-futuristic-capitalism-neon-hell-planet does actually speak to certain implications i’d not thought of until this. So fine, sense was made, but this is one of those things that’s more annoying for being Mostly fine but needing tweaking imo than something just straight up annoying that i could just write off easily.

Anyway, Raffi’s problem is she is genuinely a very good person and can’t stand to watch this shit without trying to help or fix it. Which while noble, doesn’t negate all her issues, but it sucks to see her get kicked down for being the only one who cares. I feel so hard why she was so Furious with Picard in S1 now. This is a sucky story to watch but yeah yeah it works with the context of the rest of the show, which I can’t say necessarily about a lot of other things in nostalgia bait s3. Standing ovation for our last remaining new character standing. May you remain standing till the very end. Preferably with Seven. 

riker: why are you avoiding this???

picard: avoiding what???

me with fingers in my ears: yeah, avoiding what????

i next to never agree with picard (I tolerate him mostly) but sometimes he has his moments and the denial was one of them.

anyway, i think we can conclude that Shaw’s issue (aside from being a snide little butthead) is that he’s not meant for command. Not even in an insulting way, but somebody who can’t own their own decisions (blaming seven for the orders He gave, no matter how clear she was about her own feelings or the situation was out of line bc He still gave the orders) and then goes on to look the happiest he is the whole episode when an admiral forcibly takes control of his ship probably is not suited for the big chair. 

i feel very bad for laughing at the head thing. 

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

I’ve had a sucky week. I know you might not see this for a while but can I please have some weird animal facts when you get a chance to answer? :]

I’m sorry your week sucked, have some TURTLES.

Behold: one of nature’s best examples of min-maxing.

Armor plating isn't uncommon in vertebrates. Pangolins, ankylosaurus, armadillos, and placoderms all share similar stat allocation to name a few.

Some, like pangolins, just throw all the keratin they can into their skin and end up with tough scales. That's the same stuff fingernails and hair are made of, and also the stuff that makes our skin waterproof. Others, like ankylosaurs, also grow little bits of bone into their skin. A bunch do both. These are common, efficient, easy-to-evolve traits that occur multiple times in history.

Turtles said fuck all that.

I'm doing it my way.

(Well not ALL that, they do still have keratinized scaly skin on their limbs, but still)

They took their rib cage, sternum and spinal column- you know, things that normally go inside your body, and put 'em on the outside instead. Shoulder blades and hip bones grow inside the rib cage, too. Then, as if that wasn't enough, they covered the whole deal in keratin scales. Some turtles even have a hinge on their belly (plastron) that lets them close up completely. I promise, there's a turtle in there.

What could go wrong reverse-engineering an exoskeleton onto a vertebrate?

Turns out, a lot.

Take a nice deep breath in, and exhale it out. Can you feel your ribs move? Feel them expand and contract, working with your diaphragm muscles to pull large quantities of air into your body?

Show-off.

Yeah, when all your ribs are fused into one big dome it turns out you lose a lot of lung function. The good news? With your body fully enclosed and stabilized in bone, it's not like your abs and obliques are doing anything now. Might as well put them to work pumping your lungs. Except, not directly. Some muscles pull on the liver, which attaches to the right lung. Other muscles pull on the stomach, which pulls on the left lung. It’s pretty inefficient all around, so you may not get enough oxygen exchange to be a marathon runner, but as long as you don't have to worry about predators you know what they say about slow and steady.

However that's not always enough. What if, say, you did have to worry about predators a little. What if, hypothetically, you took a few points away from pure defense and gained a little more swim speed and mobility? You, like many semi-aquatic turtles, would need a backup source of oxygen. A breathing plan B.

In turtles, plan “B” stands for Butt. Some turtles (lots of freshwater semi-aquatic ones) can pump water in and out of their cloaca, which is sometimes enlarged and lined with specialized membranes that maximize surface area for gas exchange. Basically, improving any part of this fucked-up breathing apparatus is so difficult that it’s evolutionarily better to evolve proto-gills in the ass.

I was going to make a different joke here but these turtles are literally called “Northern Red-Bellied Cooters” and I really can’t top that

Turtles are cold-blooded, which of course means they don’t do shit in the winter. Turtles who are unfortunate enough to live in places that get winters bury themselves in the mud in a type of hibernation called ‘brumation’. You may wonder, how do they breathe THEN?

Easy, they don’t. They slow down their metabolism a crazy amount and spend the winter months doing anaerobic respiration. We can do this too, it’s why your muscles burn after working out. If your body doesn’t get oxygen, your cells can still burn fuel much less efficiently and produce a lot of lactic acid as a byproduct. Turtles can counteract the extreme acidity, buffering it and sequestering it with the bone in their shell. Literally, they leach calcium and magnesium out of their bones to prevent their acidic blood from killing them over the winter.

Just waking up from the winter, chock-full of acid and ready to snap.

The most infuriating thing, personally, is that all of this bullshit min-maxing works. Turtles are the longest-lived land vertebrates. The oldest recorded one lived to 187. There’s a little box turtle at my workplace that’s almost 90. This isn’t a glass cannon like a horse is, this janky tank build WORKS.

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

Hmm,,,boyfs 46?

"I miss Edward Norton's Hulk."

Jeremy snorted at the out of nowhere comment, despite how common they were when he and Michael were any amount of stoned. "Oh yeah?"

He was glad to be able to get Jeremy to laugh, since it had been a particularly long day. They'd had a math test, a history review for an upcoming test, and they had to run the mile today. Plus Jeremy had been having an off week anyway, so Michael was doing everything he could to make things marginally less sucky for him. He didn't know all the details, (Jeremy wasn't always great at articulating what was wrong,) but he was doing his best.

"Mark Ruffalo's a good A-, don't get me wrong, but Edward Norton?" Michael gave a chef's kiss. "A++ I tell ya."

Jeremy repositioned in his beanbag. "Hulk is just a rage monster. Anyone can do it."

"Ok, fine, I miss Edward Norton's Bruce Banner."

"There ya go."

Michael splayed his arms out as he sank deeper into his beanbag. "He did the paranoia right! Bruce is supposed to be a scrawny nerd in constant fear of Hulk coming out, not the same snarky smart-ass that every other MCU character is! I get it, Disney's going for mass appeal, but!"

He waved pointlessly at the ceiling before dropping his arms again. He'd be able to construct a better TedTalk if his brain hadn't been made of cotton from the joints he'd just smoked. "The Incredible Hulk is so good. It made Bruce his own distinct character and I just," a wistful sigh, "I love it."

He wasn't looking at Jeremy, but he could tell from his voice that he was raising an eyebrow at him. "If you love it so much, then why don't you marry it?"

"Because I'd rather marry you."

Wait.

Shit.

Michael had half a mind to not slap a hand over his mouth after the words came out.

He was no stranger to jokingly flirting with Jeremy, in the over the top 'no one would actually believe I was even being slightly serious' way. Not in the 'oh look at me, I'm so smooth and that just slipped out' way.

He could play it off as a joke. He always did! Because it was staggering how many times he was accidentally smooth and had to play it cool. But his brain locked up when he heard a downright horrifying silence.

Michael looked at Jeremy, seeing bright blue eyes just as wide as his were. He expected a flushed face. Dumbfounded, flustered stuttering maybe. What he got was...

Nothing.

Just a blank, red-rimmed stare.

Then, a breathy laugh. A small, choked sound behind a blink-and-you'll-miss-it twitch of eyebrows.

"Yeah, right," he said, looking at the carpet. "Your standards can't possibly be that low."

Michael didn't think he could get a response worse than rejection.

He'd comforted Jeremy through more than enough downward spirals of self-loathing and commiserating over never getting the girl over the years, but he didn't expect... that to hurt as much as it did. To hear Jeremy so quickly shoot down the mere concept of Michael being serious, sounding so... hopeless, and hurt that he would even bring it up.

He could take the out. He could take Jeremy's denial and keep it all buried. Run with it like he always did.

Michael pushed himself up. "That," he paused, voice soft, "wasn't a joke, Jeremy."

He didn't.

He didn't know what all specifically was going on in Jeremy's head to make his week suck, but he was beginning to suspect it had something to do his and Christine's breakup a month back. Going through all of the SQUIP's bullshit to get the girl only for it all to quietly fizzle away a week later.

Jeremy had apologized more than enough. Insisted that getting with the cool kids wasn't worth a parasitic computer controlling him like a meat puppet. Sobbed into Michael's chest wondering why the fuck he decided to forgive him. Quietly wiggled away from talking about Christine in any capacity other than 'all that for a week's worth of pecks on the cheek. Go me.'

Bringing up Christine when Jeremy didn't want to talk about her? Yeah, Michael could understand a response like that. Michael accidentally letting out a secret that could've (and should've!) been played off as a joke? Something wasn't connecting.

Jeremy let out a strained sigh. "Don't fuck with me, Micha, I'm not-" he dragged his hands over his face, "just- this isn't the day for it."

A little over two months of being at the mercy of a supercomputer that promised him the girl, royally fucking things up with his best friend, evicting said supercomputer from his brain, getting dumped by the girl he'd been chasing after that whole time, already having a history of accepting the false reality that no one would want to date him, and then hearing his best friend casually say he wants to marry him...

It was starting to click into place.

"Jer, I'm not..." he said slowly. "I'm not fucking with you this time. I... never really was."

Jeremy froze.

Then peeked out over his fingers.

"...what?"

Michael wasn't sure where this sudden bravery came from, (it was the weed and the overwhelming need to have Jeremy understand how loved he was,) but he wasn't gonna pull on the brakes now.

"I've... always meant it whenever I dropped stupid, flirty lines on you. I just kinda let you think I was joking because... I assumed you never wanted me to be serious. And you probably still don't, but-"

"No, wait." Jeremy fully sat up, his expression some mix of offended (not good) and confused (unclear). "You mean to tell me that you've been genuinely flirting with me for the past- what, two? Three years now?"

Michael grimaced. He still wasn't sure what direction this was going in, whether he was actually making Jeremy feel better or if he was dumping a whole garbage load of other shit onto him.

"'Genuinely' as in I was trying to flirt, not exactly. 'Genuinely' as in I'd rather marry you than The Incredible Hulk? I think your laugh is adorable? I think about kissing you at inopportune times?" He hissed through his teeth. "Yes?"

That mixed expression Jeremy had melted into something softer. Something less dubious and more... relieved, almost? "Oh my God, you shoulda said something sooner."

Michael blinked. "Huh?"

"Michael, my dumb ass has been pining for you since freshman year."

Michael blinked harder. "Huh?! Wait, shit, then why haven't we been making out this whole time?"

Jeremy laughed, but still kinda looked like he wanted to cry. In a good way now, though. He couldn't give much response other than trying to stumble words out through his strained giggles. "I- you just- I didn't- we weren't- we didn't-"

"That your way of saying we need to make up for lost time?"

He flushed. "I- shut up."

Michael wiggled his eyebrows. "Make me."

Jeremy let out an amused huff and clamored into Michael's lap. He didn't really do anything after that, other than glance between Michael's eyes and lips like he wasn't sure what he was supposed fo do next. Which, to be fair, his SQUIP never exactly taught him how to kiss (as godawful of an image as that was).

Michael ended up shutting himself up by pulling Jeremy into that awkward 'I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing but I don't care because it's you' kiss himself.

[hangovercurse]

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About

Pete invites you to meet his friends from The Dirt and makes you promise not to flirt with any of them, which is a lot easier said than done, especially when Colson Baker acts like that.

Request: “Hey so I love all your writing and I just thought you should know that! But also I’d your requests are on still would you mind writing a youre Pete’s little sister but kells got a crush xx”

Colson x reader

Warnings: Drug use, Cursing

A/N: I know, Dom (Yungblud) wrote the song, but also I am the writer and I say that Y/N wrote it :) Anyways, enjoy. This is only part 1 of what is probably going to be a fun, cute lil series. Also thank you to the anon who sent this! You made my day(s)

Word Count: 2411

| ii | iii | iv | v |

masterlist

New York was lonely without your brother. He had been filming in New Orleans for the past three months, leaving you alone. You had some friends, but Pete was your best friend. You were only eight months younger than him and practically attached at the hip. You supposed going through trauma together would do that to people.

He facetimed you all the time from set, updating you on things in his life, showing you cool stuff from the set, and introducing you to his castmates. You had kept him updated on your music, playing him demos of songs you were writing and getting his opinion on them.

Him being away wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it definitely sucked for you. So, when Pete texted you that he was having a few friends from the movie over the night he got back, you were ecstatic.

Before you left your apartment to walk to his, he texted you.

You’re not allowed to flirt with any of my friends

You rolled your eyes as you locked your door, preparing a response.

I’ll try my best

Your phone buzzed seconds later.

I’m serious. I don’t trust any of them with you.

And I don’t need that kind of awkwardness in my life

Like if you date one of my friends and it goes badly

I don’t wanna deal with that shit

You chuckled at his chain of texts.

Don’t flirt with your friends because they’re dicks, got it

Don’t worry bro, I know the sibling code

 You came to find out that that was a lot easier said than done. When you walked into his place, everyone in the room turned to look at you. You recognized most of them from your facetimes with Pete, but you doubted they remembered who you were. One who did remember you was Colson, Pete’s new best friend. He made eye contact with you from across the room, a sly grin on his lips. You sent him a small smile, Pete’s text running through your head briefly.

You found your brother lounging on the couch, a huge grin on his face. He was definitely tripping on mushrooms. “Y/N!” He yelled. “This is my baby sister, everyone.”

You rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, grabbing a drink from the cooler, and taking an empty seat on the opposite couch. “I’m less than a year younger than you, Pete.”

You heard a snicker from the one of the guys, looking over to see Colson covering up the smile on his face. “But you’re still younger than me so it counts.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations, which you were thankful for. “Y/N, you remember Colson, right?” Pete motioned to the blond guy.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking him up and down. His muscle tank exposed the sleeves of tattoos, which seemed to cover every inch of his skin. “Your hair was different, but yeah I remember you.” You opened the beer on the coffee table, taking a swig.

“You’re the musician, right?” He asked you, leaning back onto the couch.

You nodded, “Aspiring musician but, yeah.”

“Oh, she’s great. You should hear her sometime.” Pete butted in, grinning like an idiot at you.

You rolled your eyes but had a smile on your face. “I work primarily as a songwriter and editor right now, but I’m trying to work on putting out some of my own stuff.”

You felt a little intimidated talking to Machine Gun Kelly about music, seeing as he was one of the best in the industry, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in your work. “Well, if you ever want some help or someone to listen to it, I’d be willing.” He flashed a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling.

“Thanks, that’s really cool of you.” You bit your lip slightly, trying to hide the fact that you were totally breaking Pete’s rule.

Pete sent a glare your way to which you raised your eyebrow. You weren’t really flirting; you were just… making connections. “Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve been working on this sketch idea, Y/N, and I need your opinion.”

You nodded, letting him talk. “So, I was thinking like, there’s this guy with posters all over his wall. Like life size posters of a bunch of different people. And he falls asleep while doing homework and he dreams about them coming to life. And it plays out like one of those really bad commercials that encourage kids to stay in school and shit. Like the posters are telling him to study for his test, but then there’s this one poster that’s like, very sexy. And she’s just like, talking about hot dogs and everyone else gets really sick of it and one of the other posters tries to like, tear down her poster or something.”

Throughout his description, you got more and more confused. “Pete, that’s not funny that’s just fuckin weird.” His mouth hung open in shock. “Dude, seriously? The big punchline is the playboy poster girl talking about hot dogs until the other poster people get tired of it?”

“Yes.” Pete said, as if it were obvious. “That’s hilarious.” You glanced at Colson with a questioning look on your face. He seemed as unsure of the joke as you were.

“Pete, man, that’s not your best work.” Colson clapped him on the shoulder and you giggled at Pete’s disappointed expression.

“You guys are mean.” He pouted and you two laughed. “Ok, well, how would you make it funny?”

“I don’t know if you can, bro.” Colson’s laugh was contagious. When he laughed his whole body shook, his feet stomping and everything.

“What are the other posters?” You asked, trying to be supportive but knowing this wouldn’t turn out very good.

“Well, I was thinking maybe one is like a video game character. Like that lady from Wreck-It-Ralph. The mean one. And then like a snowboarder who is definitely high, and someone else, I dunno.” He shrugged, taking a hit from the joint in his hand and passing it to you.

“Okay…” You trailed off, looking at Colson for support. You brought the blunt to your lips, inhaling the smoke and bringing it down, letting the smoke leave your mouth slowly. You passed the joint to Colson, who gladly took it, a smirk on his face.

Pete looked between you two at the small interaction, a frown. “So, the posters,” he brought your attention away from the man again, “they’re all really serious about teaching this dude math. But the hotdog girl just keeps talking about hot dogs in like this really high-pitched voice.”

You watched the smoke fall from Colson’s lips, not fully paying attention to your brother.

“Yeah man, I think that sounds funny.” Colson told Pete, his eyes lingering on you for a little longer than they should have. “It could use some work but if anyone can make it funny, it’s you.” Colson punched your brother on the shoulder, but the look he sent you said the exact opposite.

You held in your giggle, taking another sip of your beer.

The rest of the night followed a similar pattern, you and Colson flirting and Pete trying to get in between you two. At one point, after a few more hits of weed and a couple more drinks, Colson brought out a guitar, insisting you play something for him. Where he got the guitar from, you had no idea, but you didn’t ask questions. Instead, you rolled your eyes, insisting that “if I have to play something, so do you.”

Everyone was too caught up in their own conversations to care about the noise, or too drunk. You started strumming, trying to remember the chords to a song you had started writing a few days ago. “There’s no lyrics yet, just a melody I came up with.” You blushed, feeling very self-conscious suddenly.

“Guess I’ll just free style to it then.” He chuckled as you started to strum, your fingers working the strings like they had your whole life.

The blond man closed his eyes, head nodding as you played and thinking of what to rap.

“Watch me, take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night. Catch me, I’m the one on the run away from the headlights.

No sleep, up all week wastin time with people I don’t like. I think, somethin’s fuckin wrong with me.

You smiled as he sang, watching his expressions change as he tried to think up the next line.

Drown myself in alcohol, that shit never helps at all

I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call

I be hearin silence on the other side for way to long, I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that somethin’s wrong.”

He opened his eyes, looking rather proud of himself. “I had some of those lyrics already, but I just changed ‘em a little. I really liked that.”

You nodded, “That was impressive.” You smiled, looking back down to the guitar when something hit you.

You began to play the same melody but pitched higher to fit your voice.

“Roll me up, and smoke me love

And we could fly into the night

You take drugs, to let go, and figure it all out on your own

Take drugs, on gravestones, to figure it all out on your own.”

You looked up to Colson, watching his expression change, his eyes wide. Pete had a proud look on his face.

“Pete, you are a sucky hype man. You did her no justice.” Colson hit Pete on the arm.

“Whaddya mean, I told you she was great.”

Colson looked over to you, a stupid smile on his face. “Seriously, that was fucking amazing. Like, we gotta write that shit out some day.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” You were trying your best to keep your cool as Colson kept his gaze on you, but you were completely freaking out on the inside.

A little while later, almost everyone was gone except you, Pete, Colson, and Douglas Booth, who joined your conversation not long after your jam session. Pete let out a yawn, directing your attention to the time.

“Jesus, it’s already 4am?” You asked, a frown on your face.

“Why, you got somewhere to be, darling?” Douglas asked you, your face scrunching up from the nickname.

“I have a writing session at 11 am tomorrow. Or, today, I guess.”

Pete reached out to hit you in the head, playfully, which you dodged. “Go to bed, dummy.”

You shrugged, “I’m gonna be dead at it anyways, might as well keep the party going a little longer.”

Douglas rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. “Be that as it may, I am ending this party and going home. Goodnight, guys. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. Good to see you guys.” Douglas and the guys did that little hand slap and hug thing before he left.

“I love you both, but I will also be going to sleep. And you should too.” Pete stood up, stretching his arms out before giving Colson a fist bump and leaving to his bedroom.

Once your older brother left, Colson moved to the couch you were on, his arm falling over your shoulders. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And how can I help you Mr. Kelly?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m assuming Pete gave us both very similar talking to’s, given the glares you’ve been receiving all night.”

“You mean the “don’t flirt with my friends” talking to or the other one?” You tilted your head, a sly look on your face.

“That’s the one.” Colson laughed through his nose, an adorable smile on his face. You were both considerably high, but you still knew exactly what you were doing.

You moved closer to Colson’s body, “Well then I guess we’d better not do this.” You said quietly, leaning into him. “Or this,” You grabbed his jaw, inches from his face.

“Or this?” He whispered, connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, tasting the weed on his tongue. You adjusted your body so you were facing him, his arm that was once around your shoulder now wrapped around your waist.

His other hand grabbed your leg, pulling you up so you were straddling his lap, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips seemed to fit perfectly around yours, and you did all you could to keep yourself from moaning into the kiss as his hand began to travel up your leg.

Realization hit you like a brick wall, and you pulled away, your breathing heavy. “Sorry,” you muttered after a few seconds. You climbed off his lap, smoothing out your shirt. “We shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You smiled awkwardly down at him.

He nodded, the same realization hitting him. “Yeah, that’s not the best idea. Sorry I wasn’t really thinking.”

You shook your head, cheeks still very red. “No, no, no don’t apologize. It was fine, it’s all fine.”

He nodded, looking down awkwardly. “I should get going.” He stood up, landing a little too close to you.

“Why don’t you just sleep here? Pete won’t mind and it’s a lot easier than going home.” You bit your lip awkwardly, taking a few steps back.

Colson scratched the back of his neck. This was a very different demeanor than he had before, and you found it very cute. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” You moved towards the guest bedroom, a guilty smile on your face. You moved your hand to your lips, feeling where Colson’s lips had graced you minutes before.

You came back to find Colson laying on the couch, one hand behind his head. “We don’t have to tell Pete about that, right?”

You shook your head, a small smile still playing on your lips. You put the pillow behind his head, watching his eyes as he watched your lips. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll do something else we can’t tell Pete about.” You said quietly, watching him grin. You pulled the blanket over him, leaning down to be level with his face.

“I kind of like the things we can’t tell Pete about.” Colson chuckled, leaning forward to connect your lips again.

[stressy-enby]

Hello! So here's my request:

The 1-A girls including reader are having a girls night in one of their dorms playing Minecraft (teaching Momo how to play for the first time), giving out study tips, eating snacks and watching movies, etc... When their in a topic about their crushes and reader shyly tells them it is Tenya Iida... While the girls are shocked and ask a lot of questions why iida much to reader whos not really liking the questions, the girls decided to help reader out by setting both iida and reader on a date by grabbing readers phone and texting iida, much to readers protest and what the girls don't know is that the boys are having a boy night at the common room too and doing the exact same thing, helping iida out to finally ask reader on a date.

so yeah, haha that's all and you can add your own ideas there and can this be a oneshot? I also want to see the perspective of iida if that't possible? I hope this is okay? thank you!! ☺

Took a few liberties, included some personal touches, I’m really happy with how this came out and I hope you are too!

Risks

Masterlist

Weekend nights in Heights Alliance were arguably the best. 

Mr. Aizawa was more flexible about curfew on Friday and Saturday nights, so the class took those nights as opportunities to have slumber parties and late night get-togethers. 

This was one such night. You, Ochaco, Tsu, Momo, Toru and Kyoka had gone to Mina’s dorm room with snacks and games in hand. Your hostess had offered up her wide selection of video games and her Netflix, Hulu, and Disney+ accounts. Toru had even come through with an impressive assortment of face masks, nail polish, and hair accessories. Needless to say, everyone was more than set for a night of careless fun.

“Wait, how do I craft something?” Mom held her controller out to Kyoka, brows pinched together.

“This button, here,” she took the controller, demonstrating by crafting an axe.

Upon realization that Momo had next to no knowledge of Minecraft, the party had abandoned its Super Smash Bros. tournament in favor of showing her the ropes. You’d vowed to help her make a simple house by the end of the night.

“Pro tip: make sure you collect all the same type of wood.” You suggested, eyes focused on the white stripes you were attempting to paint onto Tsuyu’s light green nails with some success. 

“Yeah, unless it’s on purpose, like if you use a different wood for the roof or floor, it’s just gonna look like you hobbled it together in less than a minute.” Mina agreed, before promptly shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Ochaco gasped playfully, swiping the bowl away. “Don’t eat all of it!”

“I’ll eat whatever I damn well please!” Mina retorted, making a grab for the snack as Ochaco floated it over to Toru.

“Okay guys, I can’t take it anymore.” The invisible girl grabbed the bowl out of the air. “We’re all together, hanging out with zero stress for the first time in months! Does anyone have anything juicy to share? Someone’s gotta have something!”

Kyoka rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I didn’t come to gossip.”

“This class is a pretty tight-knit group, ribbit. Nothing really happens that we don’t all know about.” Tsu pointed out.

“Okay then. Crushes.” Mina prompted.

“What about them?” Momo asked.

“Who’s got ‘em?”

There was a moment of silence. You noticed how a few pairs of eyes flicked to Ochaco, who had gonna very red and very quiet. You sighed, musing to yourself about the things you did for friendship.

“I, uh, I kinda like Iida?”

You hated how you phrased it like a question. You hated how you mitigated the confession with the word “kinda”. You hated that silly, totally inadequate word “like”. Your feelings for Iida went beyond a simple crush. You’d had them for him for months now, you were long past the “like” phase. You were head-over-heels in love.

Toru gasped dramatically. “Really? Iida?”

Ochaco smiled at you, gratitude evident in her eyes. “You two would make a sweet couple.”

“What do you like about him?” Mina asked excitedly. “When did you fall for him? Are you gonna confess?”

“Take it easy,” Kyoka chuckled lightly.

You also laughed, albeit uneasily. You were beginning to regret not keeping your mouth shut. “Okay, I’ll take those one at a time. He’s kind and attentive, and he’s very loyal. I think I realized that I liked him a few weeks after the sports fest, and absolutely not.”

“Why don’t you want to tell him?” Momo asked, pursing her lips. “I think he’d appreciate the honesty.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t wanna make things weird between us or potentially ruin our friendship.” You explained “I don’t wanna jeopardize what we have now by confessing.”

“Plus, Iida doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s want to date someone, ribbit.” Tsu put in, examining her newly painted nails. “He’s very serious. He’d probably see it as a distraction, these are really pretty, (Y/N), thank you.”

You smiled weakly at your frog-like friend as Toru threw a piece of popcorn at her head. “Tsu!”

“No, she’s right.” You sighed heavily, motioning for the popcorn bowl, intending to drown your sorrows and maybe yourself in it.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Momo patted your back sympathetically as she passed the bowl down. “I can’t imagine how frustrating it is.”

You hummed in agreement as you shoveled the snack into your mouth. “Whatever. It sucks, bur I’ll get over it.”

“Like hell you will!” Mina snapped “Ochaco: our romantically challenged friend’s phone, if you please?”

Ochaco dutifully and bemusedly took your phone from Mina’s bedside table and handed it over to her.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, suddenly on high alert.

You were ignored. Mina instead took your hand, and placed your thumb over the home button on your phone, unlocking it.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” Kyoka asked.

“Texting Iida.”

It took you a few seconds to process her words and what they meant. Once you had, though, you made a sudden grab for the phone. “Oh no you’re not!”

“Chillax, I’m not gonna send him anything embarrassing.” Mina swatted your hand away as she scooted safely out of your reach. “I’m just gonna suggest that you two go out sometime and heavily imply that it’ll be a date.”

“Now hold on,” Momo cut in, setting down her controller. “We shouldn’t be interfering. This is between (Y/N) and Iida.”

“Yeah, if (Y/N) wants to ask him out, they’ll do it themselves, ribbit.” Tsu chimed in.

Mina sighed, slumping. “I know you’re both right, but I can’t just let them wallow! Iida really likes you, (Y/N)!”

“Oh yeah?” You raised both eyebrows.

“Yeah! He’s a lot softer with you then with anyone else!”

“He does tend to let you get away with things,” Kyoka admitted. “Remember the other day when you were sitting on your desk? The guy didn’t even bat an eye.”

“He also seems like he talks to you more than he does the rest of us!” Toru pointed out.

“Plus he worries about you more than the rest of us!” Ochaco added on.

“He looks more relaxed around you.” Tsuyu threw in.

“Sometimes when we have class representative meetings, he’ll offhandedly mention you.” Momo reported thoughtfully. “He’ll tell me about something you said or did that he found funny or endearing. It’s actually pretty adorable the way he talks about you. It’s like his whole face lights up.”

You were quiet for a very long moment. It was too good to be true. You liked playing it safe. You kept your cards close to your chest until you were absolutely sure you had the wining hand. And if you’d learnt anything in your hero education, it was that sometimes you needed to take a risk.

“Can I have my phone, please?”

Mina tossed it to you. Without another word, you navigated to your messages, and typed something out quickly. Before you could reconsider, you took a risk.

You hit send.

. . . 

This isn’t actually all that bad.

When Kirishima and Kaminari had suggested a “boys’ night”, Tenya had been apprehensive at best. He was all for class bonding activities, but what was the point if it was only a fraction of their group?

“(L/N) and the girls are having a sleepover, so we may as well something ourselves.” Sero had pointed out.

Despite his skepticism, Tenya found himself thoroughly enjoying himself. After admitting he’d never seen a Marvel movie, Midoriya had immediately logged the common room TV into his Disney+ account and began the first ever 1-A Marvel movie marathon.

“Ugh, does this mean we have to watch Age of Ultron?” Ojiro groaned “That one sucks.”

“Yeah, but at some point I’m going to make Iida watch Wandavision.” Midoriya replied “Ultron is important to understanding it, sucky as it may be.”

“That’s not gonna be for a while if we’re watching every single Marvel movie, though.” Sato chuckled. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need more than one night for this shit,” Kaminari chortled “Wandavision not withstanding.”

Tenya smiled, not quite following but listening all the same. He suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

(L/N): Random question. Want to go out and get dinner tomorrow, just the two of us?

It was indeed a random question. He had no qualms about spending time with (L/N) though. Even if it was just the two us them. Especially if it’s just the two of us. Tenya quickly shook the thought away though, feeling he’s cheeks flare.

Me: That would be great! Do  you have a time and place in mind?

(L/N): Would 6 be ok? As for the place… would you be up for a surprise?

Tenya hesitated. Usually he’s say no. He liked everything to be perfectly planed to a T. But something about (L/N) made him want to be spontaneous. They made him want to take risks. So he decided to do precisely that. He threw caution into the wind as he sent his response.

Me: 6 is more than ok, and I’m always up for a surprise if it’s with you.

Tenya cringed immediately after hitting send. The instant regret was crushing and depressing. He wished he could be honest about his feelings, about (L/N) without overthinking every move he made.

Oh well. What’s done is done. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, praying you wouldn’t respond. However, his plea went ignored a minute later when he felt his phone vibrate yet again.

Biting back a groan, Tenya opened his texts, inwardly bracing himself.

(L/N): Awesome! I’ll meet you at 6 in the common room tomorrow, then. Can’t wait! ❤️

He gaped. That tiny red emoji wormed not his brain and burned itself behind his eyes until that was all he could see. He barely even registered the rest of the message.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Iida?” Kaminari, never one to understand personal space, leaned over to glance at the class rep’s phone phone before he could angle it away. “You sly little- IIDA HAS A DATE!”

“No I- that’s not- Kaminari!” Tenya sputtered incoherently, arms flailing. “That was entirely inappropriate. You shouldn’t look at other people’s devices without their permission. It’s rude, demeaning, and an invasion of privacy!”

“Forget that, what’s this about a date?” Sero leaned in on Kaminari’s other side.

“Iida and (L/N) were texting,” Kaminari announced “They asked him out to dinner, he said yes, and they send a heart emoji.”

“What color?” Aoyama demanded, squinting.

“Red.”

“Oh my,” Aoyama leaned back in his seat, a coy smirk playing across his lips.

Sero chuckled, leaning across Kaminari’s lap to pat Tenya on the arm. “You lucky bastard.”

The blue haired boy brushed his hand away, bristling. “Not that my personal activities are any of your concern, but it’s not a date. We’re just going to get something to eat.”

“I’m not an expert or anything, but I don’t think many people go out one-on-one for dinner if it’s platonic.” Midoriya pointed out. 

“Yeah, plus, that emoji says a lot.” Kirishima added “(L/N) clearly means this to be a date. If you don’t feel the same way about them, you need to tell them.”

“You don’t want to go on a date with (L/N)?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow “I would’ve thought you’d be happy for an opportunity like that.”

“See! Even Todoroki can see you’ve got it bad for them!” Sato exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the confused heterochromic boy.

Tenya ignored his overly-excited classmates. He flipped back through his conversation with (L/N), staring at every text until he’d inadvertently memorized them all.

Me: Is this a date?

. . .

“So much for subtly, I guess.” Kyoka remarked.

“Subtly gets you nowhere with Iida!” Ochaco insisted “You have to be upfront with him!”

“But I sent him a heart,” You groaned for the fourth time.

“Well, there’s no sense in bemoaning it now.” Momo reasoned.

“It was a calculated risk.” Toru admitted, an undercut of worry in her voice.

“A risk, huh?” You chuckled humorlessly “I seem to be taking a lot of those tonight.”

Ding!

Seven pairs of eyes darted to your overturned phone at the same moment. No one moved an inch.

“Well,” Tsu nudged you “are you going to look at it?”

You gulped, shakily taking the device. The girl’s gathered around you. As you opened your text messages.

Iida: Is this a date?

“No backing down now!” Ochaco squealed, gripping your shoulders tightly and shaking you.

“Go, go, go, go, go!” Mina bounced on her knees like it was a sporting event.

You took a deep breath, then texted back.

. . .

(L/N): That was the idea, lol. It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be, tho

Tenya pursed his lips, showing the response to Midoriya.

“C’mon, Iida.” His friend chuckled lightly “Just tell them the truth.”

The truth. He did want it to be a date, but a simple “I want to go on a date with you” didn’t seem sufficient. It wouldn’t do justice to how he really felt.

Tenya had already taken a risk tonight, so what was one more? But knowing what he now knew about your feelings, it didn’t seem quite so scary anymore.

Me: I’d love nothing more than to go on a date with you, (L/N). Truth be told, I’ve wanted to for a while now, I just haven’t had the courage to ask you myself. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. ❤️

[harrywritingsbyme]

Getting It In

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: Something short, sweet, and spicy with a sucky ending for ya! Enjoy🙃

Ever since quarantine began in March, you and Harry were constantly trying to get it in. Before the Styles family was confined to the house, the kids would be in school all day which meant that you and Harry had the entire house to yourselves. Furthermore, when you two weren’t insanely busy throughout the day, you and Harry were able to soak up every ounce of each other in any position and in any part of the house until 2:30 pm. But per usual, some good things must come to an end. Now neither of you were complaining about the family time with the little ones. You two loved your bubs to pieces and it was so great to be at home and spend quality time together as a family. It’s just that 24 hours, 7 days a week, for 7 months was a really long time. During the day when either Harry or yourself (mainly Harry of course) wanted to engage in one of you guys’ coveted sexscapades, there was a process involved. It couldn’t be at the drop of a dime when either of you were feeling frisky, there was a checklist in both of your minds that had to be completed before anything happened.

For starters, you and Harry had to find a way to preoccupy the two 5 year olds that were in your care. Since they were at home and you two were not only parents but now teachers as well, you and Harry were tasked with staying on top of their education and finding activities that could keep the twins preoccupied for a short amount of time. Once that was taken care of, you and Harry had to then sneak off to a part of they house that was secluded yet still in reach just in case there was an emergency. After that, the two of you had to rip off and undo each other’s clothes off in a quick and quiet manner. Luckily, the two of you had taken up sweats and T-shirts as your normal everyday attire, so it was pretty easy to get everything off and get down to business. And even though you two were enjoying every second of being together because those moments were few and far between at times, you and Harry  were doing your best to be alert and ready to spring into action for the kids that were just around the corner.

In the beginning of quarantine, and all the way up until about June, you and Harry were practically glued to the two children. They were in their first year of school and needed the utmost attention at all times. And for the most part, the twins were never alone; there was always at least one of you with them to help out. The only times you two had the opportunity(if you could even call it that) to get some time alone in was during the block of time you guys let them watch tv, when they were playing with their toys or coloring, and when they took their naps. The prime times of early in the morning along with the time after they were put to bed was out of the question considering the fact that you both were exhausted after running around the house taking care of it and the small children that were running around in it. Once you and Harry hit the bed, it was lights out. And they stayed out until your alarms blared so that the two of you could get the kids up and get the day started.

Now from June to August, things were a bit better when it came to yours and Harry’s sex life. Even though the kids were on summer vacation and you two were completely in charge of their daily activities, you were able to give them more time to spend doing fun things that needed less supervision. You two were still actively spending time with them for the majority of the day but you still made sure to have activities in place just in case you and Harry were in the mood. Neither of you were complete fans of plopping them down in front of the television, but when you two were itching for some type of contact you and Harry did what you had to do. There were also little projects for them to do that would occupy their time and allow for you guys to sneak away. You and Harry even went as far as to tire them out early so that by midday they’d be ready for a nap and you two could hop into bed yourselves. And when you both still had a sliver energy left once the little ones were put to bed, you and Harry would wind the rest of the way down in each other. That is, if there weren’t two little bodies crammed between the two of you. Overall, the summer went pretty well for you and Harry in terms of getting it in. Cravings were satisfied and family memories were made.

Fast forward to now and things were still on this steady terrain. The new school year has begun and the twins were now in first grade which meant that you and Harry can step back a little bit and do other things. And other things meant each other. After getting the two children put together and seated in front of their computers that were in a room right off from the living room, you and Harry clean up the kitchen from breakfast before getting yourselves together one at a time just in case the kids needed a little help. Once you were done taking care of/getting a start on some chores around the house along with getting a little head start on lunch and Harry was done with a meeting he had over zoom, the both of you were in need of a little mommy and daddy time. The only thing you two had in the past week that was remotely close to that was a quick makeout session in the kitchen last night while the twins washed their hands before dinner. When the two of you meet in the kitchen, it’s like your minds are instantly synched and you both are on the exact same page. Harry wastes zero time coming over and sweeping you up off your feet and onto the counter behind you. He also wastes no time bringing his mouth to yours in a hurried manner. Your hands immediately gravitate to the sides of his face to pull him down closer to you, and his gravitate down to your hips so that he could tug you closer to the edge, bringing him further between your legs.

“Need you so bad baby.” Harry mumbles against your lips as he begins to bring them down to your neck. 

“But what if they hear us?” You ask him through your soft moans. Despite wanting him more than ever right now, you were terrified at the thought of your children walking in on their parents. The last thing you wanted was to scar them for life. 

“C’mon babe, they have their headphones on they won't hear me pounding into you.” He reassures through his kisses to your neck. “Plus i made sure i got the noise cancelling headphones for them." He continues, wanting to make sure you know that everything’s fine. 

“Alright, but we have to be quick and quiet.” You oblige, giving in and letting Harry take the lead in making you both feel good. 

Keeping you on the counter in front of him, Harry hooks his fingers into the waistband of your sweats to pull them down from your waist. You urgently lift your hips up from the counter so that he could pull them off.  Since the two of you were in a bit of a crunch, Harry doesn’t even bother pulling your shirt off and he goes right into shoving his own pants down his legs. He keeps his underwear and sweats pooled at his ankles just in case. Once you both are both undressed from the waist down, Harry hooks his fore finger into the bottom of your panties and pulls them to the side to expose your pussy. From where he was standing above you, he could see your glistening folds perfectly and he was even more in need of getting inside of you. Before he actually pushes in, he pulls himself back a bit before bending down and licking a wide stripe up your folds to collect some of your juices on his tongue. He then sucks on your clit a little and comes back up to push into you.

“Ready baby?”Harry asks softly to you, bringing his other hand down to tug at his stiff cock a bit. 

“Please Harry!” You huff impatiently, needing him to push into you. Prompted by your urgent response, Harry moves in closer to you, lining his cock up with your damp entrance and beginning to push into your cunt. “Oh my- fuck” You breathe out, feeling his cock stretching your walls to fit his cock inside.

“So fucking tight” Harry grunts lowly, feeling himself being engulfed by your warmth. After about a week of not being inside you, this was absolute heaven. After continuing to push his cock as deep into you as possible, Harry gives you about a second or two to adjust before he’s quickly moving his hips back and forth into you. The way he rocked his hips into you was unmatched. He continuously pushed his cock into you again and again as you tired to keep your moans at bay. You were digging your nails into Harry’s wrist and biting into your lower lip as you took him all the way inside. You weren’t the only one who was fully immersed in the pleasure while trying their hardest not to moan out loud, Harry too was struggling. He could almost guarantee that your walls were lined in the softest and smoothest velvet. Nothing could top the feeling of your walls against his cock. You were squeezing him and whining about how good it felt while he did the same above you. 

As he continued to pound into you, Harry could feel his release bubbling up inside of him. He was beginning to feel tingles all over his body and he could feel a warm tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach. To pull you closer to the edge with him, Harry extends his thumb out to circle it around the sensitive bundle of nerves. When he does this, you feel the sensations traveling through your body and you can feel your release nearing. When you begin to lift your hips a bit up into his thrusts along with clenching around him, Harry begins to go harder. He wanted to pound you both into your releases. And that he did. With only a few hard thrusts, Harry sends you both into the downward spiral of your releases. You both were shaking a little as you held back your moans as you two let go. Your walls were contacting heavily around Harry’s cock as you came and Harry was gushing into you as he let go. After riding the tidal waves of your releases, Harry lets go of your panties and lowers himself down onto your body that was lying on the counter, bringing his mouth down to smear a kiss onto yours. You don’t even hold back, you were a bit loopy from what just happened that you just went for it. Your lips and tongue languidly moved against his as the two of you continued to “cool down” after your releases. But as if it was right on time, you both hear a small voice calling out to your both for some assistance.

“At least we got a good round in.” Harry hums optimistically against your lips, giving you one last peck before lifting himself back up. 

“Yeah, hopefully we can do it again sometime.” You joke, not even bothering to try and lift yourself up. 

“Hopefully.” Harry whispers back with a smile as he slowly pulls his cock from you. “Now I’ll be right back to clean you up, alright?” Harry asks, bending down to pull his underwear and sweats back up.

“Mhm.” You reply simply.  

“I love you.” Harry whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Love you too.” You smile, continuing to lay back against the counter, hoping that you’d regain enough feeling to have yourself back to normal once Harry comes back. 

Even though you and Harry were always horny and looked for ways to sneak away from your kids, neither of you could get enough of being together as a family 24/7.

Masterlist

[midnightmoonkiss]

Painful Stings & Sweet Apologies

Yandere! Izuku Midoriya X Fem! Reader

Summary: Rage fueled by failure, Izuku finds comfort in a bar, only to come home to a broken promise and a furious darling. He didn’t mean for this to happen.

WARNINGS!: blood, violence, alcohol (Izuku under the influence)

Category: Angst, one-sided fluff

Word Count: 9k+

A/N: This is my first yandere fic! I’m nervous as hell, I have no idea if I got this right lol. Though I did spend months perfecting it to the best of my abilities! Hope you enjoy~

Just To Clarify:

You’re both adults

It’s Friday

It’s cold and rainy (naturally--)

Izuku’s bedroom has a walk in closet and a bathroom

the kitchen is off-limits

THIS IS A YANDERE FIC!

Izuku is an obsessive yandere~

Cold, burning liquid rushed down the male’s throat as he gulped at the drink within the short glass.

Whiskey, or more specifically - a Jack Daniels, the honey-brown alcohol that delivered a bitter slap to all those who drank its refreshing nectar. 

It wasn’t his usual drink, and certainly not one he’d ever guzzle like a parched beast.

Hell, who in their right mind would do that? Even with a single sip, it left your chest burning with its heat.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

Or, more of, self-loathing times call for a quick, one-way ticket to Forget-Me Ville and Cringe Island.

The bar he sat at was lively, filled with drunken laughter and slurred speeches of men and women who have been out for far too long.

But it was Friday night, so who cared?

A rainy, cold, sucky, depressing Friday night, one of which his friends tried to make a bit better by taking the pissed off, green-haired hero out for drinks.

They certainly hadn’t expected Izuku, an innocent little guy who couldn’t handle his liquor for shit, to shoot down an entire glass of whiskey.

At first, he ordered a simple beer - a starter drink if you will.

It didn’t take but ten minutes for him to gulp that glass down, and he was onto his next drink - a sangria wine cooler. His typical drink. He always was more of a fruity guy, after all, preferring the sweet tang over the bitter bite.

But as the night raged on, and so did his inner turmoil, he kept ordering stronger and stronger drinks, until he got to the whiskey. You could say he lost his sense of reason a while ago.

He was still seething with rage, not as much as before but the mixture of anger and frustration swirled hotly with the alcohol pumping through his veins and sitting in his belly.

You could say it was keeping him warm in this lifeless atmosphere.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t think of you, his precious little darling. He could barely think straight, mind occupied with too many thoughts to be able to understand any of them. It was all a garbled mess, one he chose to ignore.

Was that a good or a bad thing? He’d find out later.

But for now?

He needed another drink.

In the beginning, this Friday seemed like it was going to be one of the best he’ll ever have.

For months this pro hero has been working alongside detectives with catching a murderous villain known by the name “Ghoul.”

They were sick and twisted, their motives unknown, their trail hard to tract.

He had only one encounter with them, but he was too late to catch them.

That’s the day he was brought in to help aid the case.

But, that day haunted him for weeks. He knew that if he had arrived at the bloody scene sooner, he could have captured that cannibalistic fuck, brought justice to those who had already died by their mangy hands.. and prevented the deaths that would ensue after.

He’d known horrible villains before, but this one was different. Their teeth were sharp, blood permanently stained their clothes, and they gave off a wolfish vibe. Yes, a hunter. One who tore flesh from human bones and munched on it until someone screamed in terror for help.

For months he helped gather intel, piece puzzle pieces together, aid with location predictions and stakeout missions, until finally - they found that bastard.

It was more of a hunch than anything really, that Ghoul would show up to that site.

Ghoul, while hard to track, left a pattern in their wake. They avoided certain areas, thrived where the poor were at their weakest. The murders always seemed to happen at the exact same time behind run-down fast-food restaurants.

It was unclear if the sicko liked a hearty human meal with their victims own stomachs filled with greasy, fattening food, or if it was just convenient to them, either way - the perp was too damn sloppy.

To regular ol’ police personnel, the murders would just always happen there, behind restaurants.

But after Deku’s team began tracking where each and every murder occurred, it was quite easy to tell they were drawing, funnily enough, a circle around the city’s map.

It was stupid, childish, and downright idiotic, but damn if that didn’t lead the team to find the cold-blooded killer.

Adrenaline and pure hatred for the villain fueled Deku’s onslaught of attacks, each seemingly more powerful and less calculated. His mind was muddled.

He was filled with rage, finally being able to see the shitty excuse of a human again, but it affected his movements. He was being hasty, careless, not his usual calculated self.

And that’s what brought him his demise.

His shoulder was harshly bitten, razor-sharp teeth tearing through the fabric of his suit and shredding up the skin on his shoulder. Their quirk pumped through his blood instantly, making him collapse onto his knees, paralyzed. He hissed in pain as the sickeningly warm liquid flowed down his arm, unable to stop himself from face planting onto the dirty gravel of the alleyway.

He had lost, and Ghoul got away.

He still remembers it, after all, it was only hours ago that it happened.

The sun had long since set, the crescent moon hung high in the sky as her stars shimmered around her. His wound was stitched up and healed by doctors, leaving only a bitter scar to remind him of his failure.

He failed not only himself but those who counted on him.

God, he sucked.

And so, he ordered another drink.

He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to feel the failure sting at his fragile heart anymore.

It was too much to take.

What type of hero let the villain get away, knowing full well that they would kill again?

They couldn’t track Ghoul’s trail anymore, for the circle had been completed - and they were left with nothing with the numbing feeling of brutal loss.

Hours blurred together as his mind went hazy. His speech slurred together, dull, green eyes unfocused and mouth blabbering out nonsense to his friends that he couldn’t even really hear. It just- came out. 

Soon enough, he was being dragged out of the bar by his annoyingly sober friends.

The night had gotten colder since they first entered the warm bar, rain pelted down like freezing bullets flying from a machine gun. A dirty old awning kept them dry as they stood still at the front of the bars entrance, the loud music bouncing off the walls inside echoed down the empty streets.

Heavy streams of salty rainwater poured off the edge of the awning, splattering down into a mud puddle that emptied into the sewer grate below.

Who doesnt love the musty stench of rain on asphalt?

Hell, the smell itself, combined with the strong yet savory scent of the Korean barbeque joint across the street was enough to make him nauseous. He had drank far too much, and his stomach was suffering the consequences. He should have eaten more before drinking. How foolish.

 “It’s pretty late, you should head home.” Reasoned his best friend, Todoroki, puffs of condensation leaving his mouth as the warm breath met cold air, pressing a freezing hand to the back of the freckled boy's sweaty neck to jolt his drowsy, drunken self into a more alert state. Nothing but time could sober you up, but damn if that hand didn’t help slap some energy into him.

“Yeaahh, ye-yeahhh.. I gooht you Todooroe.” God, he sounded like someone high on anesthesia after being awoken from a surgery - which he definitely would be able to compare this experience to. Being a hero meant at least a few surgeries a year. Comes with the job.

Plus, this wasn’t the first time he’s been drunk.

He sure as hell hated the aftermath, but some nights it felt as if the hot burn of alcohol was the only thing that could keep him sane.

This was just one of those nights - or perhaps it was multiple nights slammed into one from just how stupidly drunk he was. The world was blurred, and Izuku doubted he could even walk straight at this point.

The half and half hero waved down a stray taxi, street water splashing up onto the sidewalk as the yellow vehicle came to a screeching halt.

“Get home safe.” Todoroki sighed out his nose at seeing his friends out-of-it state, helping the giddy and jelly-like hero into the back seat.

Izuku pouted, grabby hands clinging onto his friend's shirt in protest.

With a half-hearted chuckle, Todoroki pried himself free from his grip, handing the cab driver more than enough yen to get the drunk boy home.

He gave the taxi driver an address, and soon the car was rolling off down the street, Izukus flushed face pressed against the cold, fogging glass and staring with eyes full of tears at his friend.

Though, it seemed as if he had forgotten a promise he made to someone very important to him. Someone who he devoted his entire life to.

Someone who he risked everything for.

You.

His princess who had been locked in a small, dark room all day, wrists tightly cuffed to loose chains on the wall. The only light provided was a rusty oil lamp Izuku had gotten at a yard sale one day. The flame was dull, and left the room covered in shadows.

The tile below was as cold as it had been since the morning when Izuku had forcefully chained you there for misbehaving the night before.

You had deserved this punishment for disobeying him.

That’s what he tried to convince, anyway.

He was only trying to keep you safe! He hated punishing you, hated the way you thrashed and screamed at him in protest - that only meant he had to be rougher with you. You had broken into the most dangerous room in the apartment, afterall.

The kitchen.

There were far too many harmful objects in there!

Knives that could slice your delicate skin to shreds, forks that could jab into your body, hot stoves that could leave you with a nasty burn, and canned food stored too high up on the shelf that could fall and hit your head.. It was for your protection that the kitchen was off-limits to you!

Plus, Izuku, your oh-so kind and sweet boyfriend, had no problem with cooking you meals to eat together. In fact, he loved it!

He felt accomplished whenever you'd hum in approval at his cooking, or even turned on if that slutty mouth of yours just so happened to moan around your utensil. 

Those were the nights dinner was forgotten.

But you had been foolish, entering the kitchen for a midnight snack whilst Izuku was out on patrol. Your sneaky little self thought you were clever, leaving no trace of your betrayal.

Until you were awoken hours later by a green glow, blood running cold as a pair of murderous neon eyes stared into yours.

It had to be one of the scariest sights to date.

His pupils were shrunk, green electricity buzzing around his large body. He hovered over your trembling body, a wrapper in between his two gloved fingers.

He was so close, your noses brushed together.

You swore he could see into your soul, as well as see the fear in your (E/C) eyes.

“What is this, (Y/N)?” He had asked innocently, hurt coating his words.

“I-” you wanted to make an excuse, protest, say it wasn’t yours, but every single letter died on your tongue as his face pressed closer, a sadistic smile overtaking his features.

“You didn’t.. You didn’t go into the kitchen, did you?”

His hot, minty breath blew all over your face as he spoke, and you shriveled back in fear as insanity crossed his expression in that way you were far too familiar with.

The giggles bubbled in his throat as he tried to fight logic with delusion, “It wasn’t you, right? Someone broke in, didn’t they? You wouldn’t break my trust, would you?”

His voice was cracking, fingers digging into the flesh of the bed beneath you as his eye began to twitch.

He stared down at you, curly green hair brushing against the sides of your face, waiting far too long for an answer he would never get. His bottom lip wobbled, feat tears welling up in his eyes and falling onto your pale cheeks as his body shook with anger and sadness.

He was already stressed about the following mornings mission, and to come home to his princess betraying his trust was not something he enjoyed.

And so, you were punished.

But he had promised you wouldnt be locked in there for long, he knew how you feared the dark. He had conditioned you to fear it, after all. It was his greatest accomplishment.

You were always so willing to cuddle into him when the lights were off.

A few hours turned into nearly an entire day, the only indication you had of this was past experiences, skin around your wrists rubbed raw from the metal cuffs, and the unusual sting of your ass and bare legs burning from the freezing tile beneath you.

That was the least of your worries, though.

Worst of all - the flame, which was holding you together and keeping you from crying out for help to those who might hear you in this soundproof room, which would no doubt get you a harsher punishment, was about to die out.

That flame, albeit small, was your only hope of surviving this.

Izuku was typically a very reliable person, it was strange for him to not keep his word to you. He devoted his being to you, worshipped the ground you regrettably walked upon, why would he break his own promise?

The thought of being trapped in the dark, the echo of your chains taunting your delirious mind had you close to tears. You didn’t want to be alone here anymore.

You watched in horror as the flame got smaller and smaller, tears now rolling down your cheeks as you pleaded under your breath for it to last longer.

The air vents around you provided enough oxygen for it to survive, but that damn oil..

Where was he?! 

Suddenly, the door to his apartment flew open, giggles seeping through the house and teasing your ears.

Then, there was no more light.

A screech tore from your throat, a desperate call of his name as you thrashed around, tears pouring from your eyes.

You felt as if you couldnt breathe as your head whipped around the space, desperate for more air and light as your lungs seemed to scream.

You couldnt feel the cold chill of the floor anymore, body numb as adrenaline pumped through your veins.

What was in the dark?

How big was this space again?

Rather, how small was it?

What was that noise?

Did something just touch you?

There was wind, there was wind, no. A cold chill?

Oh god what was that-

Loud, clumsy footsteps made their way closer and closer to the locked metal door. You sobbed as your heard the jingle of keys, metal scraping against metal as he fumbled with inserting them into the lock.

Until finally, you were basked in the honey-dew glow of the bedroom.

You fought to control your breathing as he dropped to his knees, taking far too long for your liking to get the cuffs off.

But at least now you know why he took so god damn long.

You could smell the putrid miasma of alcohol wafting off him the moment he stepped into the darkroom, tainted with the salty effluvium of rainwater as it dripped onto your skin from his damp, messy hair.

Rage bubbled inside you as he giggled once more at your tear-stained cheeks, “D-did yoou miss mee?” He slurred, a giddy smile on his face as the stale stench of what he had been drinking all night circled around your head like a rotten wreath.

Instead of answering, like you knew you should have, you turned your head towards the door, soaking in the light you were previously deprived of. Even if it was just a mere minute.

At your silence, his smile quickly turned into a frown. Big, forestry green eyes welled up with sadness, bottom lip trembling, “(Y-Y/N)?” He couldnt help but reach out, scarred fingers wishing to wipe away those stray tears from your face.

You missed him.

That’s why you were crying, surely.

He wanted to comfort you, say that he was there now and that you could both cuddle until twinkling dawn.

You weren’t alone anymore.

He was all you needed, and he was right beside you.

He’ll always be there for you, and you’ll always be there for him.

Because you love each other.

“D-Don’t cry-”

His cold hand was smacked away, and his usually sturdy body was shoved back so that you could scramble out of the freezing closet.

You needed space.

More room to breath.

To be on flooring that didnt feel like ice cutting into your flesh.

Hell, you were sure the skin that had the unholy misfortune of touching the floor were burned red at this point from how long you had to sit there.

Not to mention your poor wrists, you couldnt even bear the sight of them being so raw. You were pretty sure they would bleed if you even touched them. Your body was screaming in pain, stomach growing for food, mouth parched from not being given water so that you wouldnt make a mess on the floor.

You were weak, shaking, and afraid.

That bastard had the gall to say not to cry, to look concerned when he knew damn well how much you absolutely despised the dark.

At first it was a childish fear, but the moment he snatched you from your regular life, that fear became a reality. There were countless nights you’d be punished by being left alone in the dark.

He didnt want to hurt you, no, and he never has, but damn if he hasnt conditioned you to be afraid. 

Storms were the worst.

What was once a peaceful white noise turned into a terrifying nightmare once the moon rose in the sky.

There were times you were locked in that closet during violent storms, screaming and begging to be let out.

Sometimes you were, other times you werent as lucky.

Though it was only raining right now, each pitter-patter of the droplets against the window or balcony made hairs on your neck stand up. The sound was previously muted in the closet, but now it was hitting you like a freight train on a track that never seemed to end.

You heard him scramble to his feet as you wiped your tears away, the creak of the floorboards as he stumbled towards you.

A subtle bang made you jump, his foot no doubt hitting the chest at the end of your bed. Everso the clumsy one, even in an illuminated room.

Suddenly, he was right behind you, arms wrapping tightly around your middle as his head dropped to your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against your neck.

Perhaps it would have been pleasant, comforting, even, if he wasnt soaked to the bone. The cold water from his dark grey, long-sleeved sweater was now seeping into your own thin clothes, freezing wet hair sending shivers down your spine and it presses against your heated, sensitive skin. Some drops even went down your back, ripping a gasp from you.

This wasnt comforting at all.

This was suffocating.

You squirmed in his grasp, desperate to get the hell away from him.

You were already pissed, and him wrapping around you and squeezing you tight like a snake to its prey was the cherry on top of your disastrous sundae.

With a grunt, you used the rest of what little strength you had left to rip yourself free from his ‘hug,’ nearly tripping on your own two feet as you rushed away from him.

He pouted at you as you shoved yourself into a corner of the room, finding comfort in being able to see all around you, no surprise attacks from behind, only what was in front of you.

Your breath was heavy as you glared at him, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching.

Truly, you had some nerve.

But it was hard to help it.

He broke a promise.

He never does that, and yet in your time of need- he wasn’t there for you.

For once.

He knew damn well you were locked up, scared shitless, expecting him to return home in a few short hours, yet here he is - looking absolutely clueless as to why you were suddenly so angry at him.

Tears streamed down his drunkenly flushed cheeks, hurt by how you shoved him away again.

All he wanted to do was snuggle you, his body exhausted yet numbed by the alcohol still burning in his tummy.

“Where..” you started, voice low, scratchy, and dripping with venom that reached deaf ears. “Where have you been!”

Just as he was about to open that mouth of his, no doubt about babble nearly incoherently - form logical excuses with evidence to back him up, say he lost track of time which you know damn well he never did, you shut him up.

You hated dealing with him when he was drunk, hell - you hated dealing with his obsessive ass most days.

But drunk? Drunk he got worse. He was clingy, more emotional, and worst of all? He didn’t have a filter.

He always managed to hide those more sinister desires under that sweet mask of his - until alcohol brought it out.

God, the smell of it made you sick to your stomach, but luckily you didn't have any food to throw up.

No thanks to him.

“What the fuck, Midoriya?!” You leered at him, noticing quickly the way his eyes darkened in that way they always did when you referred to him by his family name - the name he hated being called by you of all people.

“I’ve been trapped in that room all goddamn day! You said it’d be a few hours? What the hell happened to that! Look at the fucking time! Nine hours! Nine hours I’ve been stuck in my own personal hell! I can’t feel my fucking legs because of you!”

“I-” he attempted to start, the firm grip he had on his sanity quickly loosening with every shout you threw at him.

You cut him off, again, pent up rage now overtaking your sense of reason and fear, “What the hell happened?! You know what! I don’t even care! Not only did you,” You pointed a trembling finger at his stilled body, “break a promise! Something you swore you would never fucking do, you also had the nerve at laugh at me as I was trembling in fear!”

You looked like a mess, body shaking and bent over itself, one arm clutched around your waist as if to hold yourself together as that accusing finger stayed trained on him. Your hair was messy, frizzy, soaked with sweat and oily as hell from being denied a shower. Your clothes, thin and girly - much to your utter distaste, but to his satisfaction - now damp thanks to his carelessness.

All of this was because of him.

It always was.

Every single thing that went wrong in your life always seemed to be because of him nowadays.

You couldnt believe you let yourself fall for that misleading smile all those years ago, only to end up like this.

A mouse in a lions den.

But hell if that would stop you from squeaking your heart out till his razor-sharp claws ultimately caged you back in.

“Do you see my wrists?!” with a strangled sob, you held up both of your arms to show him the mess he already knew was his fault, “look at them! They hurt so fucking much because you left me in those disgusting handcuffs! This is all your fault!”

Your knees were wobbling so bad you swore your legs would give out at any second, but you’d be damned if you didnt hold your ground to this lunatic.

True, some days he was nice, normal, even. But days like these, or days much worse, you were reminded of just who he really was.

A monster was stretching it. He never intentionally tried to hurt you, your friends, or even your family.

No, he just stole you from your apartment in the dead of night, convinced the reason you were crying was because of the thunderstorm and not because some psycho snatched you from your window like some sort of 1970’s movie trope. That night he cradled your thrashing body to his hard chest with his strong arms, cooing at you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you begged to be let go. You were just scared of the storm~ He would keep you safe~ He is the number one hero, afterall~

That was all utter bullshit, straight from the beginning.

And even now he was still wrapped in the delusion that you loved him as much as he loved you.

A fated pair.

Please.

But you still held on to the pathetic hope that one day he’d snap out of it, return to the Izuku you knew from the beginning and not the person who now stood a few feet in front of you, staring with cold, emotionless eyes.

“I’m sorry.” he says impassively, face as blank as a new canvas - unreadable and dangerous in every way imaginable. It was hard not to feel as if he was just waiting to strike, already calculating his next moves like he always seemed to do. It was far easier to deal with an angry Izuku than one where you couldn’t read his already complex emotions, thoughts, anything. He was the definition of expressive, and it truly took a fuckin bullet to the back of his head for him to be like this.

So clearly, you hit a nerve.

Wonderful.

“Oh?” Despite knowing the implications of the situation you found yourself in, it was impossible not to laugh at such a pathetic fucking apology.

Knowing him, he probably was sorry, deep down inside. You knew he didn’t like seeing you hurt, especially if it was because of his doing, and yet- you pressed on. 

Pent up anger was a nasty thing to deal with, especially since it’s been brewing inside you for so long.

“Are you now? You don’t fucking seem sorry! If you were really sorry, you wouldnt have done it! But look where we are! You’re such a fucking-!”

“Shut up.” he growls out borderline maliciously, stumbling slightly as he turns to walk out the door. He was clearly fed up, his strong hands clenched into threatening fists, but so were you. Even if you were undeniably frightened to confront him, you wouldn't let that stop you from pushing yourself off the wall - your safe space - and wobbling after him.

“Look at you! You can’t even walk right! How drunk are you, huh? Washing away your feelings again, are you? What about my feelings! Huh?!”

You were pushing it.

You really were.

The entire house felt it, the air chillingly still as Izuku had to grind his teeth together so as to not lash out at you. 

He didn’t want to.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, but all that stress and self-hatred previously washed away was coming back up to the burning surface that cages his discretion.

Heavy breaths blew out his nostrils as he made his way to the living room, desperate for you to get the hint from his hunched over body that he wanted you to fuck off.

Yeah, he messed up, deep down he knew he did but currently his mind was far too clogged to even begin to comprehend it.

You were like an annoying mosquito, your words morphing into a persistent buzz.

He was ignoring you, and that made you livid.

He always ignored you when your problems were deemed irrelevant, or when he found you were being far too vexatious.

He always did this, always.

You were trapped in a cell with some asshole who didn't even want to listen to you.

Obviously, you had enough.

Typically you’d back off, go fume in another room or punch the wall till the skin around your knuckles tore open and dripped blood everywhere, making him snap out of whatever state he was in just to suffocate you in his toxic love.

Oh how life proved to be full of surprises.

A low growl of your own slithered passed your teeth, eyes practically burning red as if you prayed you had a quirk that could do something against him.

“You’re a selfish bastard! You fucking piss-poor excuse of a hero-!”

SLAP!

A shrill scream tore from your raw throat, the echo of skin burning against skin dizzying you as you were thrown back onto the floor.

Boiling hot tears streamed down your face as you sobbed out of pure fear, body shaking uncontrollably and you shuffled backward, desperate to get yourself as far away from him as you could currently manage.

It had all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to register it as it occurred.

One moment his hands were gripping the back of the couch with such strength you could see his knuckles turn a ghostly white, and the next, crackling, neon-green lightning surrounded his body, illuminating the dim apartment in a slimy glow. Before you even had a chance to register just what happened, he whipped his head around, his eyes, typically blown wide with sickening love and sparkling under delusional illusions, were narrowed and glowing in a way that sent shivers of immense regret down your spine. His arm whipped back with his hand, the very hand that delivered a painfully paralyzing slap.

He always spoke with his hands, and you just happened to be too close to him at that moment.

The reddended skin of your cheek burned, and you swore you could feel more than just tears streaming down it.

You were stuck shaking on the floor, imaginary bile rising in your throat, and all you could do was stare at him with wide, bloodshot and terrified eyes.

He had never laid a hand on you like that before, you didnt know what to think.

He always promised to do you no intentional harm, to never lay a finger on you with intentions of making you cry out in pain.

He had never acted so feral and out of line before.

It.. it scared you in a way you never felt before.

The gap between you grew, you really were just a mouse trembling in a lion's den.

“P-princess-” he shakily called out, voice weak and uneven, quirk diminishing into thin air like it never was there in the first place.

His own eyes were wide and filled with immense regret, tears already pouring down his flushed, freckled face.

He took one step forward, and you scrambled back, hand coming up to touch at your cheek, shock making you feel faint at the sight of blood coating your trembling fingertips.

You felt sick once again, empty stomach feeling as if it was collapsing in on itself to push even the tiniest bit of nonexistent food out.

You didnt know what to do.

Choking on your own sobs, you tried desperately to shuffle away from him, but he only came closer.

You cried out the moment he dove at you, your hands clasped together tightening against your chest as if to hold yourself together as this bear of a man wraps his arms cold, soaked arms protectively around you, his large shoulders violently shaking as he buried his snotty, tear stained face deep into your unruly tresses.

The stench of alcohol burned your nostrils, edging you on to try and push his heavy chest away. You tried, but you failed miserably, resulting in his arms pulling you even closer to his sweaty and damp body. It was disgusting.

“L-let go of me!” you wailed, your own tears stinging your eyes as your vision blurred and you could no longer tell just what you were staring blindly at, the dimness of the living-room paired with the suffocating embrace of your captor swallowing you whole.

You couldnt take it.

You could barely breathe at this point.

“p-p-ple .. plea-s-se..!” your cries intertwined with his own desperate ones as he babbled nearly incoherently on about how sorry he was, how he never meant to do something so horrible.

“I’m not a monster!” he howled out, desperate words seeping with ululation.

He was desperately trying to convince himself of that.

He wasn’t talking to you at all.

He was talking to himself.

He wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t a monster.

He’s not like him.

He’s not like that piece of filth.

No, he’s so much better.

He’s a good man.

No, no, he’s not a monster.

He’s your hero.

He could never purposely harm you.

No.

It was an accident.

An accident.

You’d understand.

He knew you would!

You always understood him.

You were like two peas in a pod!

You forgave him, surely.

Yes.

Yes!

You did the moment he hugged you, the moment he started comforting you.

He was a good man.

How could you not forgive him?

He loved you so, so, so much.

You knew that-

You knew he would never do such a thing.

His breathing was even, eyes wide and straining as he stared at the floor, a crooked smile on his face as he repeated the words over and over again in his twisted mind.

He never met to hurt you.

No.

He didnt.

“Plea-” you tried once more, biting your wobbling lip as he squeezed you even tighter.

“No, no, no, no, no, no..” he heaved out, hand coming up to gently pet your oily hair as if to calm you. His head shook back and forth in your hair, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, honey.”

There was nothing you could do.

You were stuck alone in a mouse trap, the cold, metallic bar snapped down on top of your frail neck.

There was no escape.

There never was.

His form of ‘love’ far too strong for you to even attempt to.

And so, you gave up. 

Just like you always did.

There was no point in resisting him.

Sticky blood trickles down your raw cheek, dripping down onto the chilled bare skin of his neck, still cold from the damp clothes he wore, instantly catching his wondering attention.

“You.. you’re bleeding?” he whispered guiltily, already feeling a new wave of salty tears building up in the corner of his eyes.

His large left hand trailed up the skin of your neck, idly collecting the thin trail of red liquid onto his fingertips and smearing a path up to your jawline, stopping the moment your shivering form flinched.

He frowned at the red mark taking up half your beautifully innocent face, a small cut resting in the middle of it where no doubt the ring he foolishly wore as an accessory swiped.

Guilt made his stomach churn, the familiar burn of acid rising in his throat.

A deep inhale, and he swallowed it down, arm still wrapped around you, languidly rubbing your back as he stared with nothing short of pity at your wrecked state.

Your lips wobbled, holding in a reply as you force yourself to look into the vast abyss of darkness that was the hallway of your apartment instead of his orbs gleaming with concern.

Concern.

Concern for something he caused.

At least he had a heart, but you were still scared shitless and wanted nothing more than to run away. You were still fighting to regulate your breathing.

His thumb suddenly pressed against the slap mark, ripping a yelp from your throat as your head flung back to avoid any more contact. It was then that you noticed a pounding headache echoing inside your skull, yet another reason to aid in the water running down your face. Pain consumed your body, and you wanted nothing more than to escape this shell you were trapped in.

Openly chewing on his lip, both of his arms went back around you, cradling your delicate form to his chest.

Without a word, he stood up, practically forcing you to have to wrap your bare legs around his waist to keep yourself steady, something you were trained to do by him. He loved it when your legs were around his waist whenever he picked you up.

It became a regrettable second nature.

Heavy foot steps brought you back to your bedroom, and then into the bathroom connected to it.

Your fears crept up your spine at the pitch black room you were forced into, remembering how you were in a similar position just a few minutes ago.

When would this cycle end?

Ah. 

It wouldnt, would it?

You were set delicately down atop the cold marble counter as if you were a fragile piece of glass, which, in many ways, you were. The tears had at least stopped, but your body continuously shook like a chihuahua, your breathing still hard to control as fumbled around mindlessly with your fingers to serve as a distraction.

He flipped the light on, momentarily blinding your sensitive gaze with its bright light.

Sniffing, you wiped at your nose, watching as he walked about the bathroom, grabbing a wash cloth just to run it under cool water. The rain was still heavily pouring just outside the wall mixed with the loud splatters of the stream against the white sink. It would have been calming had cold water not splashed up onto your bare thighs, making goosebumps prickle along your skin. Your thighs were nearly numb at this point.

After ringing most of the water out, he held it up to your cheek, staring at you.

Taking the cue, you hesitantly took the cool, wet cloth from his grasp and gingerly pressed it to the swelling skin on your face. You hiss out in pain, dry sobs wracking your body at the stinging pain and the fact that he was still far too close for you to currently handle.

The pain on your cheek paired with the numbing cold was a good distraction.

You chewed on your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut, freehand gripping tightly at the hem of your shirt as you listen to him fumble around in the cabinet hanging over to the left.

You jumped the moment you felt his larger fingers ghost over the ones holding the cloth to your cheek, cautious (E/C) eyes opening ever so slightly as you looked over at him.

You couldnt help but feel idiotic as you suddenly felt flustered at the intense gaze he was giving you, eyes now gleaming viridescent in the white light of the bathroom almost staring right into your soul.

It was like he was reading you, pulling words off your own frail pages just so he could recite them to you.

He did this often.

Keeping silent, staring for long periods of times as he tried out scenarios in his head of the words he was going to say.

It gave you chills, but yet, it made you feel like you were the center of his drifting attention.

The sun his planets revolve tirelessly around, repeating the same cycles like a record forever skipping on repeat.

In these moments, though, he became an enigma.

Not exactly something your fragile state of mind entirely needed right now.

You shivered when his palm came to cup your soft jawline, thumb absentmindedly tracing over your parted lips.

His mouth opened, ready to say something, but he stayed quiet.

Mouth shutting, he leaned forward, tentatively bringing you into another hug.

“I’m sorry.” he repeated, the words nearly as quiet as your stilled breath, but you had nothing to say to it. And he knew it.

He was used to you staying silent.

He would prefer it most of the time.

So he could sink into his fantasies, the deluded fantasies that you loved him wholeheartedly, that you chose to stay silent as to not hurt his feelings, and always forgave him no matter what.

That you would forever and always be his.

He wouldnt give you the choice not to be.

He wouldnt let you leave when you’re his favorite person in the whole wide world.

The only one he needed.

And he was the only one you needed.

Yes.

Of course.

You didn’t need anyone else but him.

And he didn’t need anyone else but you.

So what if a few more people died because of his mistake, he would capture Ghoul eventually. Regardless, he would always come home to you.

Always.

And that’s all he needed.

He chucked against your neck, having buried it in the crook as his mind slipped through his shaky fingertips.

The Big Bad Wolf and his Little Red Riding Hood.

God how he loved the comparison.

Perhaps he was addicted.

Addicted to you.

Even now, as he inhaled your sugary sweet, natural scent stained with the metallic smell of dried blood.

Pulling back, he gazed into your hesitant eyes, delicately resting his forehead against yours.

His hair, now dry and no longer dripping with salty rain, tickled your skin, making you involuntarily take in a deep breath.

Closing his eyes once more, he soaks in the moment of your warm body in his frigid embrace, nothing else mattered to him.

Just you.

Only you.

“L-let me see your cheek,” he asks softly, words not as wobbly as before,  afraid that if he spoke too loudly in such a thin atmosphere, everything would shatter abruptly like glass.

Your body moved on instinct as if you were used to doing as he asked immediately no matter what, pulling the cool cloth away from your burning cheek.

Resisting the urge to sniffle and flinch away, you allow him to rewet the cloth, holding still as he dabs lightly at the small wound.

“I know it hurts,” he breathes out, “shh, shh, it’s okay.” it was always so strange how his voice still managed to calm your nerves even after all you’ve been through.

Deep down, you knew he was still that loving and energetic boy you met back at that coffee shop.

If only you knew how sinister and twisted he could really be.

Perhaps.. perhaps you wouldn’t be in such a situation now.

But there was never any point in pondering the what-ifs.

All you could do was fight your mind from seeking normalities in such a relationship as this, if you could even call it that.

You wouldn’t succumb to his desires like you always did.

You wouldnt lose yourself.

No.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Or was it too late already?

You hissed when you felt the stinging seer of rubbing alcohol dotted onto your cut, cleaning the wound.

“It’s okay.” he repeats, cooing to you with a reassuring smile that should have made you feel sick all over again.

You let him apply antibiotic ointment and a small cheek bandage, his hands shaky yet careful. You could say he has experience in applying bandages.

It was uncomfortable as it sat on your raw skin, but it’s not like you were going to go and rip it off. That would feel like ripping off a wax strip on a sunburn.

Humming, he gingerly wipes away the dried blood on your neck with the same washcloth, not minding how blood-stained the innocently white fabric became. 

Next came your still aching wrists. There wasn’t much he could do for your legs, but at least he had roll-on bandages on standby.

Turning the cold tap on, he lets you run them under cool water before gently dabbing the stray droplets away, careful not to press too hard.

He really needed to invest in softer handcuffs, it’s just- those were the only ones he had, and he didn’t use them often. Besides, it never got this bad before. But that wasn’t a good excuse.

He’d have to order some online tomorrow..

Applying more ointment around the area, the kind that offers instant relief, he wraps your smaller wrists up as best he could, cringing himself whenever you’d flinch.

He’d make it up to you.. Pancakes in the morning, perhaps?

Izuku then begins to sluggishly put away everything he brought out of the cabinet, tossing what needed to be tossed into the trashcan.

He was slow, almost as if he was trying to keep his balance, which he no doubt was. 

Standing in front of you once again, he wrapped his arms around you, whispering “up” in your ear.

It was something he would always say when he wanted you to wrap your arms and legs around him so he could carry you like a baby.

But who were you to refuse?

It wasn’t as if he couldnt pick you up without your limbs wrapped around him, it was more for your comfort rather than his convenience.

So, tentatively, you wrapped your still shaking arms around his neck, doing the same with your legs around his bent waist.

“Good girl.” he praised as he began walking back into the bedroom, stopping just at your side of the bed to place you down at the edge.

Numbly, you let him remove your rain-soaked clothes from all the hugging, sitting on the bed in just your panties as you watched him toss the clothes in the hamper by the door

It wasn’t the first time he insisted on treating you like a child who needed help changing, but at least you didn’t have to walk.

It was hard to remember if it was a good or a bad thing that you didn’t care about being nude in front of him anymore, not even bothering to hide your chest as he came back over with a fresh set of clothes - the strawberry patterned pajamas he always seemed to adore you wearing.

You always looked so innocent in them. The shirt is far too large for your frame, the sleeves hanging off your hands and the large v-neck exposing your collar bones and parts of your shoulders. The bottoms were the regular run of the mill pajama pants, soft as cotton and comfy as hell.

The top truly was the part of the look that tied it all together.

He couldn’t help but smile as your arms immediately raised as he pulled the shirt out of the pile, making quick work of slipping it over your cute head and helping your arms into the sleeves.

He liked to take care of you.

You needed him to, after all.

You were his innocent, helpless little darling, after all.

Pulling your pants up, he guided your body down into a resting position, dragging the thick, grey, and black patterned comforter over your stilled body.

Such a good girl.

He tucks loose strands of messy (H/C) hair that fell across your face behind your ear, being mindful of the wound.

He stares at it for a moment, his expression holding that of worry and regret.

Pushing off the bed, he stumbles his way to the kitchen in the dark, having turned off the light as he went, the layout of the apartment burned to memory so he could easily avoid furniture.

In the kitchen, he opened the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, one he would commonly use on his own sore muscles and bruises. It hurt his heart knowing he was the reason you had to use it for the first time.

After wrapping it in some paper towels, he trudges his way back into the dark bedroom, eyes wracking over your balled up form, covers bunched over you like a shell.

“Put this on your cheek..” he whispered, placing the pack just in front of your face.

He would love to be the one to hold it to your cheek, but his mind was still hazy, and his words were still slurred. Events could sure as hell sober you up a bit, but damn did that nausea always come back crashing in through the brittle window full force when you’d least expect it.

Rummaging through the drawers once more, he picked up some of his own fresh clothes and made his way into the bathroom again.

All he wants is to sleep, but he also didnt want you to smell dried sweat and rain on his being throughout the night.

He knew you missed him, him and his warmth, you always did, right? No question about it. You must be longing for him even now. 

Wanting him to hold and comfort you just like always.

Numbed adrenaline pumped in his veins as he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away his filth and regrets.

God, it felt so good to be able to somewhere warm for once.

The entire night he’s felt nothing but cold.

Not even the fire in his belly or the breath stolen from his lungs could’ve warmed him up.

He was mad at himself. Mad that he lost control and hurt the one thing that mattered the most to him.

Mad that he let himself get disgustingly drunk.

Mad that he walked in the rain like a dumbass just to soak your clothes and make you feel as cold as him.

But at the moment, too many thoughts were flying in his mind for him to properly think, no, he couldnt really even say he was thinking at all.

He was just letting the water splatter on the back of his neck, forehead resting on the cold shower tiles and he watched as water swirled down the drain like a whirlpool. His hair stuck to his cheeks like glue, but he couldn’t find himself caring.

Absentmindedly, his fingers brush across the fresh scar on his broad shoulder.

He swore the longer he stood there, watching the clear flow of water, the looser his grip on himself became.

He couldnt really say he felt anything at all anymore.

When did he lose himself?

Was he ever even really found?

Ah.

With you.

You were the missing piece in his complicated and skull biting puzzle, the one who made him whole and lit up his dull life. You were the reason he felt things anymore, you were the reason he still managed to get up and save people with a clear conscious.

You always had such a positive impact on his life, and he knew he had just as good a one on yours.

A wobbly smile tore his flushed face in two, you both really did need eachother.

He was so happy to have you in his life.

Knowing you’d never leave him.

Turning the boiling hot water off, he stepped out, the plushness of the bath-mat embracing his wet feet as water continued to pour down his nude body.

It felt, it felt so hot suddenly.

His breath came out in exaggerated pants, hands sweeping his hair from his face as the burn of bile rose in his throat.

Lunging for the toilet, he emptied his stomach into the glistening white bowl.

Gasping for air, Izuku whipped his mouth on the back of his hand, still trying to catch his breath as he fumbled to flush.

God, he needed to sit down.

Shakily turning the bathroom faucet on, he washed his hand, making quick work of brushing his teeth before lazily drying himself off.

Ignoring the other clothes he brought in, the toned hero simply pulled on a pair of black boxers before walking out of the bathroom.

Green eyes immediately looked at your form, just to see the soft rise and fall of your chest as you soundly slept, the ice pack sitting comfortably on your cheek.

You looked so adorable.

You always did.

Smiling once more, he walked over to the bed, pulling back the sheets just to slide his larger, warm body in and next to your own.

He sighs blissfully the moment he tugs you into his embrace, relishing in the feeling of your soft body against him.

Removing the icepack from your cheek, not wanting you to awake to a cheek burning from the cold, he places it on the nightstand before snuggling closer to you.

You always fit so perfectly in his big arms.

You were meant to be by his side.

And you loved it, didn’t you?

Eventually, he fell asleep, soft snores echoing around the quiet room filled with the downpour of rain still pouring down outside the large glass windows,

But you were still wide awake.

It was hard to remember the last time you got a good night’s rest, especially when the room was spine-chillingly dark..

Hard to remember what life was like before you even met your own personal nightmare.

You were used to the exhaustion, the dark circles kissing at the skin under your eyes becoming normal the day you were brought here.

Oh, how foolish you were.

You should have locked your window that fateful night.

But heroes are quite stealthy, aren’t they?

Was this even reality at this point? Or all just a figment of your imagination, protecting you from the true horrors before your very eyes.

Either answer wasnt one you wanted.

But you never had a choice.

Tears slipping from your eyes like they always seemed to do, you stared longingly off into the distance, the warmth pressed against your back pulling you further into your own bubbling madness.

All it took was a signal thought for this to all become normal.

For the pain to wash away with your tears.

‘Maybe this is ok.’

[shyneanon]

So ppl really liked my fic about Red’s baking! Thanks so much, your happy replies were so great! It encouraged me to write more, so I did! This is a fic based off the idea of the skellies going into heat? I don’t know who came up with it, but it’s an interesting concept. This one is about Classic Sans (and it’s sfw), but I’m going to write one about Red too. Hope you guys like it.

---

Sans had warned you about heats way ahead of time.

He’d sat you down and very awkwardly explained that at certain times of the year, monsters would wake up one morning to find that their reproductive instincts were in high gear. They’d be super competitive for “mates,” possessive and protective of any “mate” they did have, and they’d be super horny all the time. Like animals. You thought it was strange that his species hadn’t evolved out of those kinds of habits. Surely a sapient species didn’t need that to compel them to reproduce, right? Sapient species had babies because they wanted to. (Hopefully.) Sans couldn’t explain why, he just knew the whats and hows of it.

When he’d first told you about it, he had told you that when he was in heat, he would call you and you could avoid him. He would avoid you in turn. He seemed worried that his strange behavior would freak you out, but you told him it was no big deal. Especially with Sans. He was a chill guy, his version of being aggressive was probably not that frightening.

Still, he called you that morning.

“So I… I just wanted you to know that… R-- remember when I told you about how monsters go into heats?”

“You’re in heat?” you asked.

“Y… Yeah. So, I know you were gonna come over but--”

“Sans, I’m not going to be afraid of you in heat. You told me you still understand consent. I’m gonna come over.”

“I just… Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

When you did get to his place and knock on the door, it creaked open just a little bit. When Sans saw you, his face turned blue and he closed the door in your face.

“I dunno if this is a good idea,” he told you through the door.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“No, o-- of course not!”

“Then we’re fine. Let me in. Please?”

At the “Please” the door swung open. “S-- sure,” said Sans, though his face was still blue. And whoa, his eyelights…. They were suddenly way larger than normal.

You stepped inside and gave Sans your usual greeting-- that being a kiss. He made a sound of protest as you wrapped your arms around him, but you kissed him anyway. He immediately reciprocated, and you hummed. This kiss was longer than usual, but you…

Wait a second.

Was Sans feeling your waist?

“So… pretty….”

He tugged you in the direction of his couch and then sat you down. You weren’t sure if he was about to try hitting on you, but you had to admit, you were curious about this biological difference between your species and his, so you would let him continue.

Another kiss, this one initiated by him. Well, if him being in heat meant more kisses, you weren’t about to complain.

“Mine,” he crooned, much to your surprise. He wasn’t one to be possessive-- not even gently, like this. This heat thing really did make them act differently, huh? He trailed a thumb along your jaw, smiling and looking at you with fuzzy eyelights. “Mine…. Safe here….”

He suddenly seemed to realize something and looked around. His eyelights went to the door of his apartment. He muttered something that you couldn’t make out-- and then started moving a bunch of the furniture. Wow. This was way more active than you were used to seeing him. What was he doing?

… Barricading the door.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know this is weird, but… it’s not safe enough. Or, it doesn’t feel safe enough. Objectively it probably is.”

At least he knew it was weird.

The second he was done, he sat next to you. You smiled, trying not to let your bewilderment show. You were the one who’d consciously decided to come over. At least he was done with the door. “So are we gonna watch a movie or what?”

“Not yet,” he said, and immediately started inspecting you. Not sexually. Almost medically, using his eyes and hands to search you. His eyelights shrank when he noticed something.

“What is this?” he asked, holding your hand. He was looking at bandages wrapped around your middle finger.

“Oh, that. That was me being a dumbass--”

He kissed you, which was startling, but nice. “Don’t say that…. You’re smart….” He held up your hand. “Did someone do this?”

His eyelights suddenly went out.

“Tell me who did this to you.”

… OK, now you were beginning to understand why he’d suggested you stay home. “No, nobody did this to me! I was using scissors and somehow managed to make a slash down the center of my finger. It’s not deep though.”

He calmed down and started to unwrap the bandages. “I’ll fix it…. Make it better….”

You were confused until he put a finger on the cut and you felt a warmth seep through your hand. Healing magic? He was using healing magic on you. Magic used up a lot of his energy sometimes, and he was using it over a small cut? You looked at his face and realized his eyelights were very large, and watching your wound healing intently. Once it was finished, he kissed your finger. OK, that’s kind of cute.

He then wrapped his arms around you. “So sweet….” He looked at you through lidded eyes. “This… this is why I told you to stay home.” A smile. “But I’m glad you came….. Safe with me….”

You felt your face heat up. You were less weirded out now and more… flattered.

Still, he was acting so strange, and you wanted a sense of familiarity. “So I guess you could say you feel this heat down to the bone, huh?”

He let out a soft chuckle, still smiling at you. His eyelights dilated more. “You’re so cute.”

Your face flushed. “Thank you, Sans.”

There was a moment of silence. He seemed to be thinking about something….

He kissed you again, and this time his hands started to push you down onto the couch.

Oh, right.

Heat meant he was horny.

“Movie can wait,” he said. “We’re busy right now….”

Wow, this was… not like Sans at all. But you weren’t actually sure if this was the best idea. Hadn’t he mentioned something about heats having to do with high fertility?

“Uh, Sans,” you said, moving his hands away. “Probably not a good plan.”

To your surprise, he made a disappointed whining sound, then seemed to realize it. He looked down at the way you were underneath him and his face managed to flush harder. “... S-- sorry!” He got off. “Sorry. Yeah, not a good idea.”

This was the Sans you recognized. He looked mortified, trying to avoid eye contact, but you smiled as you sat up. “It’s OK, I know you’re kind of out of it right now.”

“This is why I told you not to come over, I’m insane right now….”

“It’s OK!” You hugged him. “I like that you want to keep me safe.”

“... You like it?”

“Of course. It’s… It makes me feel special.”

He watched you, then gave you a kiss before getting off the couch.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To get you things,” he said, “to keep you safe.”

Oh.

He had been holding back, hadn’t he?

He came back with a blanket and draped it over you to keep you warm. The next thing you knew he was asking you a million questions about how you felt, seeming pleased every time you told him you weren’t feeling anything unpleasant. When he asked you about your back, you admitted that it was a bit achy, and the second you said it he wrapped his arms around you and began to massage it, purring happily.

“Keeping you safe,” he mumbled again.

The massage eventually got a little more… touchy than necessary. His hand started to slide down past the small of your back, and didn’t stop. You could see his eyes lidding and his eyelights dilating-- he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Sans,” you said in a warning tone, and he withdrew his hands.

“I-- I’m sorry, you just… look so hot right now.” His face was so blue. “I mean, you’re always hot, but my heat just… k-- keeps wanting my hands and eyes to go to, uh… certain places.” He grinned awkwardly.

You grinned back. “So I guess you could say that you really want to bone, huh?”

Another chuckle from him. “Don’t even joke about it, you’ll just get me turned on again.”

“OK.” Still curious about all this, you asked, “So how long does this heat thing last again?”

“Up to a week.”

“You can be like this for a week?”

“Yeah, sometimes. It sucks even for me.” He gave you a soft smile. More of the Sans you knew. “Although it’s… less sucky with a mate around.”

Your face was suddenly very hot.

“If you want me to stay,” you said, “I can.”

“N-- no, you don’t have to do that, I know I’m acting completely crazy.”

“No, I’m… I’m glad I can be your mate.”

He smiled softly. “... Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re being really sweet. And I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

He hesitated. “I… I’ll probably try to feed you. Like, one bite at a time.”

“That’s OK.”

“I’ll freak if you so much as stub your toe.”

“That’s OK too.”

“I’ll--”

“Sans, whatever it is, it’s OK.”

“... OK.” He made sure the blanket was properly covering you. “Thanks... for letting me be weird.”

He hugged you to him. You sank into his touch. He was so soft, and warm...

“The pleasure’s all mine,” you told him.

[artificialqueens]

You Rewrote My Ending (ABCD Friendship) - Candy Cane

A/N: so glad i finished this today!! i have two other wips im currently working on, and im so thankful for @chaoticnachokitten for beign a cheerleader and beta for this one!!! thank you!!! you can follow me at @sillylittlecandycane if you so please <3 enoy :3 Summary: After a long week, the four bffs finally get a chance to relax.

Adore has had what feels like the absolute longest week ever. She knows Courtney was struggling too, Bianca’s texts sound grumpier than usual, and Darienne hasn’t been texting enough, which basically confirms for Adore that they all need to get together asap.

The youngest of the four sends the absolutely most pathetic text she can think of to the group chat, then boom! Next thing she knows, Darienne’s inviting everyone over to her place, Courtney is making sure Bianca’s bringing rich lady alcohol, and Adore is calling in their pizza order to be delivered to Darienne’s.

As the two musicians rush around the house gathering their things before the Uber arrives, Adore remembers at the last minute to poke her head into Trixie’s bedroom so at least one of their other roommates knows where they’re going.

“Hey Trix?” Adore says before she’s even looking in, the second she does look though…

Katya and Trixie are shoulder to shoulder in the latter’s bed, laughing their asses off over something on the laptop situated on their laps. Adore doesn’t quite know what she’s seeing, it’s definitely not the first time they’ve acted like this, but it is… different.

“What’s up?” Trixie says, still coming off the high of laughter.

“Courm and I are headed to Darienne’s for the night, I dunno when we’ll be back-”

“Cool, have fun!” Trixie cuts her off a bit too quickly.

Adores glances between her roommates, deciding she’d much rather go get cuddles from her favorite shady elephant than psychoanalyze these two psychos.

“Kay, bye!” Adore grins, slinging her backpack over her shoulder to meet Courtney at the front door.

Courtney looks exhausted, even if her makeup is totally perfect, and Adore is really, really worried for her. Her shoulders are a little too slumped, her hair is just a little too messy, her voice just a little too groggy… Adore hates it. She cannot wait for their night of relaxation to start.

Luckily, she doesn’t have to wait much longer. They get the text from their Uber, rush outside and climb in, then after a bumpy, curvy, wild ride from a seemingly normal driver, the roommates tumble out of the car a little worse for wear, but fine.

Courtney is the one to knock on the door of Darienne’s townhouse that lies at the very edge of the city. Bianca is the one to open it for them, holding a large glass of wine and wearing an expression of fondness and exasperation.

“It took you long enough,” the older woman snorts, “Even the fucking pizza guy beat you two.”

“Our Uber driver was probably insane,” Courtney sighs, accepting Bianca’s hug as she walks into the familiar home.

“Yanks!” Adore shouts before practically launching herself into Bianca’s arms, pressing her face into the crook of her friend’s neck, feeling warm and safe in the embrace.

Bianca runs a hand through Adore’s tangled, dyed-red hair, “Missed you too, bitch.”

Adore throws her head back in free, happy laughter, she’s definitely missed her best friend this week, and it feels so good to be with her again. The singer looks up to see Courtney leaning against Darienne, who looks just as tired as the rest of them. Adore is kind of excited to hear about why everyone’s just had a collectively sucky week or day. Those three are hilarious when ranting while drunk, and she could really use a good time.

Adore grabs Bianca’s hand so that they can go and join Courtney and Darienne in a nice, big group hug. They all hold onto each other tight, a firm reminder that their friendship is unshakable, and that one bad week can’t hurt any one of them.

They pull apart after a few minutes, then Adore looks out into the kitchen curiously.

“So… the pizza’s already here?” she asks cheekily.

“Go get your fucking food, you needy bitch, because once you’re done I’m going after your nasty hair,” Bianca says in her typical motherly way, reaching up to ruffle Adore’s hair.

Darienne rolls her eyes, “Hey, don’t take too much of my good wine either! I’m old, I’ve lived long enough to deserve it.”

Adore laughs out a “Yes, mom!” as she heads over to the kitchen, Courtney right behind her. Despite living in the same apartment, Adore doesn’t really get to see Courtney or talk to her as much as she wishes she could. Their schedules rarely line up, and Courtney has been spending more and more time out of town over the last couple months. Adore doesn’t think she would ever be able to say it out loud, but she’s terrified Courtney is going to move out of town with how much she’s been away lately.

And that would suck for so many fucking reasons! One, she’d have to find a fourth roommate, which, gross, talking to new people. Two, Courtney would be moving out. Three, Courtney wouldn’t even be in the same fucking city anymore! Adore doesn’t know what she’d do without being able to crawl into Courtney’s bed for cuddles at four a.m., or Courtney’s way too peppy early morning attitude. It would just suck.

Head spinning with worry, Adore grabs a couple pieces of the veggie pizza, then pours herself more wine then either of her old lady friends would approve of. Courtney follows behind her, the two lean against the kitchen counter, quietly enjoying each other’s company, eating pizza and sipping on wine.

Adore smiles when she hears Bianca and Darienne’s crazy laughing, and then giggles when the two of them tease each other as they storm into the kitchen.

“You two look pathetic,” Bianca says gruffly, arms crossed over her chest as she stares at them from the other side of the counter, “Let’s go watch Real Housewives or something, I wanna make fun of ugly bitches and I’ve already said all I can about everyone in this room.”

“Fine, but if anyone stains my sofas I’m going to lose my damn mind,” Darienne says, even though she’s already taking Adore and Courtney’s hands to lead them to her couches.

“Impossible, you lost your mind ten years ago,” Bianca retorts, sitting down on the end of the couch.

Darienne doesn’t say anything, but she’s laughing along with everyone else, and it’s really, really fucking good. After everyone’s situated on the couches, Adore curls up on the floor against Bianca’s legs, her cheek resting on her friend’s knees. Bianca absent mindedly runs her fingers through Adore’s matted, messy hair while Courtney and Darienne argue over what to watch.

“Ugh, your hair’s a mess, kid,” Bianca complains, “I can hardly put my fingers through it!”

“I’m too tired to brush it though,” Adore whines.

“Well I told you earlier I’d take care of it for you,” Bianca reminds her, trying not to smile at the way the younger perks up.

“Thank you…” Adore mumbles, her face pressed tight against Bianca’s knee.

Bianca smirks, “You gotta let me up though so I can get a hairbrush.”

“Nooooooo!”

“Then I can’t fix your hair, you lazy mermaid.”

“…Courtney?” Adore asks hopefully.

“I’m not getting up,” the Aussie says, snuggling further into the soft cushions of Darienne’s couch, her cheek resting on said friend’s shoulder.

“Count me out too,” Darienne says, her tiredness from the week extra heavy in her voice.

Adore groans and rolls off of Bianca’s legs, her back resting against the couch so that Bianca can get up. Bianca pats the top of Adore’s head before she gets up, and Adore’s eyes drift to the TV, which is playing some over dramatic reality show. It’s perfect for this kind of night.

Before she even has time to miss her Willow too much, Bianca is back and tugging the younger in between her legs so that she has a good angle to take care of the rats’ nest Adore is currently calling her hair. Darienne and Bianca start a back and forth banter over the craziness happening on screen, while Courtney intermittently interjects and Adore laughs along with her friends, immensely enjoying the gentleness of Bianca’s fingers and the methodic, soothing motions of the brush.

No one is sure when, but Adore quickly starts dozing off against Bianca’s legs, and only moves when Bianca tugs her up onto the couch. Adore winds up with her head in Bianca’s lap, and her long legs sprawled across Courtney’s and Darienne’s. They tease her a little at first, loving and good natured, but are quick to give it up once they realize she really is falling asleep in B’s lap.

“Poor kid is just completely worn out,” Bianca mutters as she works on an extra difficult knot.

Darienne sighs, “Yeah, one of those weeks for us all…”  

“This was the first full week I’ve been home in months. I’m really glad to be back, but I think it’s just made me realize how tired I am from travelling,” Courtney admits.

Darienne squeezes her hand sympathetically, “Don’t overwork yourself, that’s how you turn out to be a bitter old bitch like Bianca and I.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Bianca chortles, brushing Adore’s hair gently, “I was two times worse than you are, ya know, and I didn’t really have anyone around me telling me to calm down. So take the advice now, and maybe a vacation while you’re at it.”

Courtney smiles fondly at Bianca, and leans over a conked out Adore to give her a one-armed hug, “You are much more of a sweetheart than you want anyone to know.”  

“You don’t gotta rub it in my face,” Bianca says with an eye roll.

“Oh no, we will be holding this over your head for the rest of time,” Darienne teases.

“You’re one to talk,” Courtney smirks, “And I’d say it’s less of a secret with you.”

Darienne feigns a scandalized expression, reaching up to grasp at her heart, “Courtney! How could you?” Courtney’s shoulders shake with laughter, causing her to accidentally jostle Adore, which in turn makes the youngest of the four groggily protest being woken.

“What the hell…?” Adore whines, her cheek squished against Bianca making her words almost unintelligible. Bianca pets through Adore’s hair to soothe her back to sleep while whispering to her, pointedly ignoring the looks from the other two ladies as she does so.

“She has you wrapped around her little finger,” Courtney says, nothing but awe and amusement in her voice.

“As long as she doesn’t figure it out I’ll be fine,” Bianca jokes, not denying it.

“From that first day at that damn club…” Darienne says, reminiscing already.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Bianca complains, wrinkling her nose, still detangling Adore’s hair even though it’s almost perfectly smooth now.

Courtney grins mischievously, “Remember how much you couldn’t stand me? Or Adore? I think Darienne you liked from the start, but that’s because she’s just your type of person.”

The older woman rolls her eyes fondly, “Yeah, I remember. You two were so fucking annoying, and if it hadn’t been for Darienne being the most tolerable bitch in the building I probably would’ve strangled someone.”

“That sounds about right,” Adore mumbles sleepily. The other three chuckle and Bianca brushes back Adore’s hair from her face.

“I remember hating all three of you immediately,” Darienne jokes, the others laughing along with her, “I only like people with good taste in makeup.”

Courtney gasps in faux offence, Adore sniggers into Bianca’s lap, and Bianca continues the banter, “What does it mean now that we’re your best friends?”

“That there’s still hope for you guys yet.”

Courtney nearly falls into Darienne’s lap from laughing so hard. Maybe they’re all over-doing it on the wine, but they’re having too much fun to consider slowing down. Courtney hasn’t felt so relaxed and happy in weeks, and she can’t help but to regret not calling Bianca sooner.

She sighs and curls closer into Darienne, “So what happened with you this week?”

Darienne hums boredly, “Just my boss being shitty, but what’s new? Oh, and that guy I met on Facebook turned out to be completely worthless.”

“It’s not your fault the people around you are awful,” Courtney says sympathetically, “You deserve better than anyone like them.”

“You know what? I do,” Darienne agress confidently.

“I’ll beat them up for you,” Adore offers, lifting her head up just enough to be heard.

“Now that’s a fight I’d like to see,” Bianca grins.

“I’ll send you addresses next week,” Darienne says, patting Adore’s calf, which is still sprawled across her lap.

“I love you, Darienne,” Adore sing-songs loudly.

“Bitch, stop moving so much I’m trying to fix your hair,” Bianca complains.

“I love you, too, Bia!”

Courtney rubs Adore’s back softly, “Awww, what about me?”

Adore quickly sits up, causing Bianca to grumble in surprise, and turns herself so she’s nose to nose with Courtney, “Courm, I love you so fucking much and I don’t know where I’d be without you so please, please don’t move out because I can’t function when you’re not around-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Courtney frowns, placing her hands on Adore’s shoulders to steady the younger girl, “Move out? What are you talking about?”

Adore’s eyes water, and she swallows hard, “I know you’re planning on moving out because you’re always out of town, and you’ve been getting a lot of mail from this one company, and I just… Please don’t go, Courtney.”

Courtney throws her arms around Adore’s neck and pulls her in for a tight, loving hug, “I’m not going anywhere, Adore. I promise. I’m sorry that it looks like I may be planning on moving out, but I swear I’m not.”

“Thank God,” Adore mumbles, snuggling closer to Courtney.

Bianca rolls her eyes, but they all know she really does find it sweet, “Alright, now that the mushy shit is sorted, Adore can you get your fucking knee off of my appendix?”

Adore rolls herself off the couch and onto the floor with a yelp, “I’m okay!”

Courtney giggles, “Bianca, appendixes are so old-fashioned. If you want I can recommend you a surgeon to get rid of that.”

“Of course you can, you cunt,” Bianca says, playfully slapping Courtney’s arm.

Adore looks up at her three very best friends. She wouldn’t trade them for the whole world, not ever. They’re too perfect, too perfect for someone like her, but somehow they’re still hers. So she’ll take what she can get, and accept it for what it is.

She loves them, and she knows they love her too. 

[f1-disaster-bi]

Hi, just want to send you some positive vibes! Hope you know that you’re very appreciated on there and I hope things will soon get better for you🧡 keep hanging in there bestie🧡🧡

Thank you so much ❤

I had a bit of a cry, and I'm just tired and a little sad right now because someone in my family is a selfish asshole who just tested positive for covid and went to a family event while waiting on test results and put a 4 month old baby as well as others at risk. And now the one of the two things I've been looking forward to for weeks I've had to cancel because I will need a test, and it's made me so sad and angry and I'm just ready for the world to give me a break but it seems never ending.

But messages like these make me keep my head up. Today might suck but hopefully tomorrow this will seem less sucky and depressing

[gumnut-logic]

Lucky Shot

Title: Lucky Shot

Author: Gumnut

12 Jul 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Virgil hit Gordon.

Word count: 1477

Spoilers & warnings: Angst, language, a little Wasp!Gordon

Timeline: Standalone

Author’s note: Nutty’s Fandomversary 2019 Fic Eleven (I think) – In preparation for this year’s Fandomversary, I had a look at last years knowing that there were some prompts that I hadn’t managed to answer (a lot of prompts). I’ve had trouble with writing this week, so I’m happy to say that I have actually accomplished a ficlet :D

Having said that, am highly tempted to take this further, but the challenge said ficlet, so I’m sticking to it. So this has little plot and isn’t much more than just a scene. I’m restraining myself :D

This one is for @godsliltippy​ who asked for Gordon and nosebleed with a side order of Virgil :D So Virgil hit Gordon.

I hope you enjoy this short :D

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

 -o-o-o-

 “Hold still.”

“’irg’l, ‘m fine!”

“You’re not fine! Hold still!”

“’S only a bl’d nose.”

“I need to check it anyway. I hit you hard.”

“Lucky sh’t.”

“Hold still!”

Gordon let his shoulders drop and held still. Virgil was beside himself over this. It was obvious. It was only a blood nose, for crying out loud. It wasn’t like it was his first.

The scanner’s yellow light flickered over him and Gordon flinched. So damned bright.

Of course, this just set off Virgil even more. “We’re going to the infirmary.”

“’irg-“

“Now.”

Okay, that was an elder brother command. Gordon wasn’t stupid enough to disobey that. His shoulders dropped just that bit lower and Virgil’s gentle hand wrapped around his arm and led him from the gym.

“I’m sorry, Gords.” It was said with so much guilt, Gordon rolled his eyes.

Ow.

The hand on his arm tightened.

It was a lucky shot. There was no way in hell Virgil could best him in hand to hand. If Virgil pinned him, maybe. He had the mass and the strength. But Gordon was fast and his smaller stature a major advantage. His big brother couldn’t catch him on the best of days.

Except for today, apparently.

The infirmary loomed as they exited the elevator. It did that. Gordon hated any medical setting…for good reason…and the infirmary on the Island was no exception.

He was deposited on the bed with a firm but gentle nudge, told to sit upright and to tip his head forward.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, he knew the treatment for a nosebleed.

Blood tasted awful.

He closed his eyes a moment.

A soft touch to his face and blood was dabbed off his skin. A quiet rumble of query.

It repeated and a frown formed in the air.

A hand on his shoulder. “Gords?”

“Hmm?”

Ow. Virgil’s fist had definitely left a mark on his sinuses.

“You with me, Gordon?”

“Mmmmhmm.”

A rustle of instruments and a finger peeled back his right eyelid. A sharp flicker of light hit his retina and he flinched away. “’irg!”

“Hold still.” Strong hands made him do exactly that.

His reward was another finger peeling back his other eyelid and that retina being equally assaulted.

“’irg!” He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned as that caused his whole face to echo the pain in his nose.

Virgil didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go of the now firm grip he had on Gordon’s shoulder. A hum started up and Gordon let a breath out as the scanner flickered over him again. “’irg’l, ‘m fine!”

His brother still didn’t answer, but the bed under him shifted, its head rising under his right hand.

“Lie down.”

“’irg-“

“Lie down.” Okay, there was something in his brother’s voice that bore no argument. Gordon opened his eyes and found worry in his brother’s.

Those brown eyes blurred a little.

What?

He dragged his feet up onto the bed, his exercise sweat pants riding up above his bare feet. A shuffle and he had to admit it was a relief to have the back support, top half of the bed up as far as it would go. His head was throbbing. He must remember not to try and stop Virgil’s fist with his face ever again.

As to why his brother had managed to even touch him was a worry in itself. Virgil was good, but he wasn’t that good. Gordon had been dancing around him for years. As his co-pilot, Gordon saw it as part of his duties to help his brother with his hand-to-hand. Of course, between himself and Kayo, they helped all the brothers, even Scott who had his fair share of training in the Air Force. But Gordon had always had a special thought for Virgil. His brother was a wall of muscle, ‘built like a brick shithouse’ was the popular phrase. But muscle didn’t necessarily equate to good self-defence and Virgil was a softy from way back. There had been incidents with the occasional over zealous fan, but also one of Gordon’s nightmares was what would happen if someone with less kind intentions got a hold of any of his brothers.

Virgil was too damned nice for his own good.

So, Gordon took it on to look after him.

But today…why had he let Virgil hit him?

“What happened?” The deep voice of his eldest brother and Gordon realised his eyes had slipped closed again. Opening them was a mistake. The lighting in the room had apparently taken on nuclear fusion in an attempt to compete with the sun.

He groaned and shoved his eyes closed again.

“Gordon?” Virgil’s hand landed on his arm.

“You suck.”

“And you’ve got a concussion. I’m sorry, Gordon.”

What?

“Report, Virgil.” Great, the Commander was out which meant Scott was upset. It was only a bloody nose, for goodness sake.

Virgil’s sigh was a mix of worry and regret. “My fault. I hit him.”

There was silence for a moment. All Gordon could hear was his heartbeat in his sinuses.

“You hit Gordon?” Gordon should be proud at the amount of disbelief in his eldest brother’s voice. Or worried at his lack of confidence in Virgil’s skill.

One or the other.

Maybe both.

God, his head hurt.

“I shouldn’t have let him spar. But he was upset after today and I wanted to help.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I wasn’t much better, Scott!”

Oh, shit, Virgil. “’S not your fault.”

There was a lack of an answer and that worried Gordon more than anything Virgil could have said to him. He threw out a hand and scratched at a shirt. Fingers caught his, but they weren’t Virgil’s. “Sco’, ‘s not his fault!”

“Gordon, rest you have a stage two concussion. You know that is something you don’t mess with.”

Yeah, well, Virgil has a lot of muscle behind his fist.

Gordon let a breath out between his teeth and relaxed into the bed. Virgil was obviously pissed at himself and he would have to talk him around at some point.

Gentle fingers touched his face again. Soft cloth wiped a cool liquid across his skin.

“The bleeding has stopped.” Virgil’s baritone was quiet and worried. “However, there is some swelling….and there will likely be bruising.”

Swelling? Bruis-….aww, hell, he was supposed to be going out with Penny tomorrow night. A charity gala, it was important to her.

Hell.

“I’m so sorry, Gordon.” Little more than breath.

This just sucked.

He knew the results of an impact to that part of a face. He’d had to do it enough himself.

Then something else occurred to him.

“Did you break m’ noze?”

Silence.

“’irg?”

“Not broken. Hairline crack.”

“’uck!”

“I’m sorry, Gordon.”

He flung out a hand again and this time managed a handful of cotton t-shirt. He dragged it closer. “’Snot your fault!”

Virgil didn’t answer, but his fingers were pried from that t-shirt and held for just a moment, only to be let go as Virgil moved away suddenly.

Gordon flailed, reaching. A footstep and those hands returned with something cold. Towelling, cold as ice.

Gentle hands gathered his and moved to his face. The cold pack melted into his skin and gave him some blessed relief.

“Hold that there.”

“’Snot your fault.”

Again, there was no answer.

A finger brushed hair from his forehead.

God, Virg.

“Rest, Gordon.”

He wanted to yell at his brother. It was a lucky shot after a sucky day. It wasn’t anybody’s fault.

“Rest.”

A blanket was draped over him and its warmth became something he hadn’t realised he needed.

“Grandma’s on her way back from Auckland.” Scott said it to the room at large.

Oh crap.

“Good.”

Gordon mentally went through what he had in his own fridge in his rooms and came up with very little. Maybe he could coerce Virg to grab him something otherwise he might expire from his grandmother’s ‘curative’ efforts.

“Don’t worry, Gordon. I have a stash. You’re covered.”

Actually, come to think of it, Virgil would probably go out of his way to do anything and everything for him over the next few days.

There was both glee and worry attached to that thought.

“Rest.” A hand returned to his forehead and stroked away what was likely a phantom hair. Virgil always had the urge to touch.

To heal.

Too good for his own good.

Those fingers slipped away again.

Gordon let himself sink a few more millimetres into the mattress.

Scott was still in the room. He could hear his breathing. Virgil was beside his bed.

He was safe.

His head hurt.

It had been an ass of a day.

Too tired to get out of the way of his brother’s fist.

Stupid move.

Stupid.

Virgil murmured something.

Scott whispered in return.

Gordon let himself drift.

-o-o-o-

FIN.