concentrate pipes

Part two of my trc/tfc crossover extravaganza as requested by about 16 humans, this is going to be a trio, so wait for chapter 3 buddds


There’s a knock on the door two seconds before Ronan slits through the doorway shoulder first. Adam feels like the contents of a cardboard box, sliced and opened.

“I fucking hate this,” Ronan says, his whole presence bunched at the entrance, coiled. “Why do I feel like they have more secrets than we do?”

Adam shuffles his feet so he’s contained to one cushion, and Ronan sits down instantly, close enough that his waves eat Adam’s ripples.

“You wanted this.”

“I wanted to play exy.”

“You wanted all of us with you,” Adam adds. “You wanted to not be the most difficult person on a team. You wanted college to be easy and the games to be hard.”

Ronan looks at him closely, then kicks backward onto the couch, head on the far armrest, legs pushing at Adam’s so that they have to occupy some of the same space.

“I don’t need another gang of thugs to tell me what I have to be.”

“Kavinsky’s crew was—“

“I’m not talking about him,” Ronan says viciously. Adam eyes him, then looks at their legs, at Ronan’s hand, lax near his thigh.

“I think,” Adam says slowly, “that it’s too soon to tell.”

Ronan’s eyes are slitted blue when Adam looks down, peering past his own knees to meet his gaze.

“Yeah okay, diplomat. Tell me what you really think.”

Adam rolls his head back, flexing his hands to hear them crack, thinking of the way Neil and Andrew paired off and put their heads together, dark and light, speaking with gestures first, silences second, words last.

“I think that we’re trying to put two plugs together, and we don’t have any sockets.”

“Pretty,” Ronan snarks. Adam ignores him.

“They don’t trust us.”

“I don’t trust them,” Ronan replies easily, and takes Adam’s hand so he’ll stop cracking and wringing.

“I don’t think any of us would qualify for the foxes if we were—“

“Trustworthy?”

“Easy to understand,” Adam continues. “I’ve watched the tapes, Ronan. They’re still fractured at the best of times.”

“We’re stronger,” Ronan says quietly, playing with Adam’s fingers.

“We’re good together,” Adam agrees, and Ronan pulls him down on top of him. Adam falls, and enjoys the falling quite a lot, the way Ronan’s mouth changes when he’s close. “We haven’t always been.”

“That’s Gansey’s fault. He doesn’t know how to introduce people.”

“Meanwhile you made a great case for yourself,” Adam says sarcastically, grinning when Ronan does. “So personable.”

“Hey,” Ronan says, cupping Adam’s face with both hands and squeezing. “You wanna go see what we can do on this shit campus?”

“I want to get ahead on my readings, actually. My grades have to be better than my status, because PSU has zero prestige.” 

Ronan rolls him into the back of the couch and kisses him fast, rubs a thumb over the sting on Adam’s lips. “No, you want to break into the court.”

“We have the keys.”

“You want to legally enter the court,” Ronan amends, pinching Adam’s side so that his ribcage cants up.

“Yeah,” Adam says after a moment. He thinks about the burnished wood of the court and the killing heft of a racquet. He pictures Ronan and Gansey next to him, crowing victory, the sweat and rush and pitch of the finite game, the deadline he can see and count on. Exy decks him and he hits back.

“Good,” Ronan says. “I want to put a dent in their fucking foxhole.”

_____

The lights are on when they get to the court at midnight, and Ronan lets the door fall closed hard behind them. There’s no movement, just miles of clean hallway and the hollow, lived-in feeling of a place that should be full.

They exchange looks, and walk steadily towards the heart of the building. They gear up quickly in the chill of the changing rooms, laughing at each other in their fiery oranges. Ronan musses the bandana from Adam’s hair. 

They poke their way towards the court, and when they’re close enough, the screech and hammer of activity haunts the hallway.

“My bet’s on Day. He looks like he doesn’t sleep,” Ronan says, kicking the door open and catching it before it can swing back.

“That’s a pretty ironic insult, coming from you,” Adam says pointedly, and Ronan grumbles something about involuntary insomnia, but they’re already spilling out into the central court.

He regrets making it this far. He feels so blatantly redundant, a meal that’s mistakenly been delivered to a table of people who’ve already eaten.

Keep reading

Buttercream and Giggles

Pairing: Baker!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky tries to teach you some piping techniques
A/N: Okay so this is based off an ask here . This is part of a series called The Sweetest Thing!
Word count : 496

Your tongue pokes out in concentration as you pipe the squiggly pink line on the cake. Sighing in frustration you drop the piping back to the side of the cake, a heavy thunk sounding as it hits the metal. “Come on doll, just like we practiced” Bucky wraps his arms tighter around your middle.

It had been your idea. You loved that your boyfriend was a baker, often visiting him in the shop he owned. Watching Bucky decorating a cake was like poetry in motion, the buttercream would pipe beautiful on to the cake, the fondant smoothing out perfectly under his skilled hands. Not the mention everything he baked tasted like heaven. When you had suggested he teach you some of his craft, he jumped at the idea eager to share in his passion.

He had closed the shop and prepared a two-tiered red velvet cake, your favourite. It was raining softly outside, you sat in his lap in front of the beautiful cake. He had spent all day teaching you different swirls and shapes. Now, he was teaching you the simple shell border. The piping bag is held firmly in your hand after he had corrected your hands minutes before. Bucky had the patience of a saint when it came to starting over and over, even showing you first on parchment paper how to pipe the design.

“You can do it” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. His hands move to sit on top of yours as he started to guide you. He squeezes the pink buttercream out for you, guiding your shell border and then like a dad teaching a child to ride a bike. He lets go.

With precision, you pipe a decent shell border around the top tier of the white fondant covered cake. “You did it!” Bucky squeezes your hips and proudly smiles at your work.

“I’m coming for your business, Barnes” you tease, placing the bag on the counter to spin in his lap and cradle his face. You kiss his jaw, running your hands through his chestnut locks.

“Is that so, baby?” he grins, kissing your nose adorably.

“Mhmm” you bite your lip before tilting your head and kissing him softly on the lips. Bucky always vaguely tasted like cake and smelled of sweet vanilla . He hums into the kiss, hands running up your back. The kiss becomes more passionate with every moment, until Bucky stands lifting you with your legs locked around his waist.

It’s too late when you pull away to warn him. He places you on the counter, right on top of the cake. His eyes widen comically at the squish and you cant help but throw your head back and laugh loudly.

“You do always say I have a sweet ass” you giggle as Bucky puts his forehead on yours laughter escaping his lips like music.

“Shut up and kiss me” he brings his lips back to yours as you both smile.

anonymous asked:

your daveed drabbles are amazing!!!!! can i request one where daveed and reader have a twins, a daughter and son (5 years old or so) and have reader witness a super cute moment between the three of them? thanks!

Thank you so much for the request! I’m glad you enjoy my writing. I took this opportunity to make this request a sequel to my Babysitting request I adopted. I hope you enjoy!

When you told Daveed about being pregnant after babysitting Sebastian that night you never for a million years considered what the doctor had told you at your next appointment. Twins. Double the trouble as Lin had put it. You and Daveed had been excited and terrified at the same time. It was hard to believe that it had been five years since they were born. Roman was older by only twenty minutes and he never let his sister Rylee forget it, much to your amusement. 

It was your birthday and you were excited to get home and have a nice time with your family. Daveed was home from filming and he had been making up for lost time for the few months he had spent away. The kids were besides themselves with excitement when he had come home last week and had barely left his side since.

Humming to yourself as you walked into the apartment you stopped when you picked up the smell of freshly baked cake. Smiling you carefully sat down your bag and keys and crept around the corner into the kitchen.


Daveed had his hair gathered up into a bun and the kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off. You leaned on the door frame and watched as Rylee was perched next time him on a bar stool with a piping bag of frosting and a half decorated cake in front of her. The tip of her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth and she was concentrating as she carefully piped letters onto the cake as Daveed helped by telling her each letter to put.

“M-O-M-M-Y,” Daveed said slowly and watched Rylee closely.

“Do you think Momma will like it?” Rylee asked looking up at him.

“Oh I think she is going to love it,” Daveed said, “You did a great job on the letters.”

Roman was on the opposite side of the counter on a bar stool and had taken it upon himself to fling all manner of sprinkles all over the cake, counter, and floor. You shook your head with a smile. 

“Well what do we have here?” You finally spoke.

“MOMMY!!! Look what we made you!” Rylee squealed as she jumped down and ran over to you.

“Thank you so much baby. It looks wonderful.”

She was covered in what looked like either powdered sugar or flour, you couldn’t be sure. Roman waved from his seat at the counter and Daveed turned and wiped his hands on his jeans before coming over and giving you a kiss.

“I thought it would be fun to have them help bake you a cake from scratch,” Daveed said proudly, “I’ll clean up the mess, I promise.”

“You have frosting in your hair Daveed,” you giggled as you gave him another kiss.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “Alright lets get some candles for this bad boy.”

“Can I light them?” Roman asked innocently.

“Absolutely not mister. Not until your older,” Daveed said as he lit the candles.

The twins guided you to sit at the counter and Daveed pushed the cake towards you. The twins ran around the counter and Daveed picked them up one on each arm as they all sang Happy Birthday to you. All three of them had wide smiles as you blew out your candles. Looking at them you knew that there was absolutely nothing you needed to wish for, you had everything you could ever want in the whole world right there in front of you.

How Could I Not Have A Crush On You?

Marvel (X-Men) One Shot

Characters: [FEMALE] Reader x Raven Darkhölme + Charles Xavier, Erik Lensherr, Hank McCoy, Sean Cassidy, Darwin, Angel Salvadore & Alex Summers

Warnings: mild swearing ish 

Request: “One-shot: can you write something based on “ imagine revealing to the X-Men that you’re a nymph ” please?” - anonymous

Word Count: 2,086

A/N: Related gif imagine is here [x]. hope you don’t mind me centring it around Raven. and tbh i don’t even really know what a nymph is i had to do some research so sorry if this isn’t accurate !! i kinda threw in the whole controlling nature power stuff because i read a lot of stuff which related nature to nymphs. okay i’m rambling, hope you like it!!

Keep reading

Sweet Love (Queenie x Jacob)

This was inspired by @theatricalbarista ‘s fantastic idea that Queenie & Jacob married and made enchanted pastries and candies, and were the creators of the Chocolate Frog. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your idea! @qed221b it’s late but it’s here! @sozdanie-gryazi-eternal @funkzpiel @questionboxjuliet if you guys are interested :) 


It’s a little before dawn, but already there is the stirring of life in the kitchens of Kowalski bakery. The spacious kitchen smells of flour and jams and butter, and Jacob Kowalski is rolling out the dough whilst whistling a cheery tune, and a clear, sweet voice joins in. The moustached man quirks a smile at his bubbly wife, who is twisting and twirling dough into braids in the air, to be weaved into the crust of their famed apple strudel. Queenie Goldstein-Kowalski smiles brightly at her husband even as she sends the completed pastry to a rack filled with other baked goods to be sold once the bakery opens its doors. Business has been brisk lately, with more and more costumers flocking to the steadily growing bakery for a glimpse of the enchanting pastries Jacob makes, and she’s able to convince Jacob to buy a new suit in celebration.

They work quietly for several hours, the silence occasionally broken by tender words of “how are you doing honey” or “let me know if you’re getting tired, darlin’”. It’s a partnership in the best of sense, with Jacob working his magic to the mundane tasks of baking, turning plain dough into the enchanting silhouettes of magical creatures, while Queenie casts lilting spells that coax and nudge the plainest of pastries into gorgeous golden brown creations that taste of home. Queenie floats a freshly baked bear claw that is coated in melted sugar before Jacob, and his smile is wide as he takes a bite out of his wife’s creation, and she giggles girlishly at the patches of sugar left on Jacob’s trim moustache. The blonde watches as the portly man return to his work, brow furrowed in concentration as he pipes the cream into rows of cream puffs, and she thinks that this, surrounded by flour and laughter and stolen kisses in between, is her utopia. Jacob looks up to catch her bright eyes, brimming with love and affection, and he swears that he falls in love with his beautiful Queen all over again in that second. He blows a kiss to her, and white flour floats in the wake of his kiss, and Queenie thinks her No-Maj husband has his own magic.

Opening time is an hour away, and Queenie is helping Jacob with the remainder of the creature-shaped pastries, when she accidentally casts the wrong spell. Instead of turning the lovely golden brown of baked goods, the little Demiguise pastry seemingly comes to life, and turns its little head towards them. Queenie gasps while Jacob rubs his eyes, and the Demiguise returns to being a normal, inanimate, unbaked pastry. There’s a heartbeat of silence as the two stare at each other, and a grin grows on Queenie’s face as she catches tendrils of Jacob’s thoughts. “I know you’re thinking what I’m thinking, honey.” Jacob only nods wordlessly, and there’s a cheery beam on his face that she loves as he rolls his sleeves up higher. “Let’s get baking, darlin’.”

They don’t get the pastries animated that day, and people stream in and out of the shop the entire day, keeping the couple and their workers busy. Besides, Queenie doesn’t want Mr Graves to catch wind of her doing magic in front of the No-Majs; the Director may have mellowed somewhat since his rescue but rules are still rules. They close up the shop in the evening and lock themselves in their kitchen, ready to begin experimenting again. The hours roll by, and still they have little success. Queenie manages to get the pastries to move just a little, but the charms don’t stick, and the pastries go back to being just pastries. The night ends with a sigh, but a kiss on her cheek and sweet words of encouragement steel her resolve to give it a go again.

They have a breakthrough the next day, when Queenie is absent-mindedly twirling her wand and coming up with different charms whilst speaking to Jacob. She turns her head when Jacob fails to reply her, and she’s tickled to see his mouth open in a gape, pointing to the-. Oh. Oh. The Demiguise she’s experimenting on is walking. They wait with bated breath, and while the Demiguise does nothing but walk a short distance, turn and walk back, it doesn’t go back to being inanimate, and they’ve done it. Jacob whoops with glee and swings Queenie about, eliciting peals of laughter from her as she buries her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent of flour and butter and cocoa and Jacob. He gently places her down, and pecks her nose, and she huffs because what kind of kiss is that honey? She kisses him on his lips, firm and gentle all at once, and he can taste strawberries and honey and ambrosia, and oh he can drown in her for all eternity.

Queenie marches up to Mr Graves’ office once she’s able to replicate the animating charm, and very politely, with a sweet smile on her pink lips, asks that she be given a permit to sell her enchanted pastries to the wizarding community. She sees his mouth open and catches the thought before it’s even voiced, and very resolutely says, “Yes Mr Graves, I want my Jacob involved as well. And I won’t take no for an answer, or you’ll not get those apple pies you love.” There’s an amused upturn to Percival’s lips, because really, Queenie is the one who needs his help. But he does love the Kowalskis’ apple pie, and he does have a soft spot for the blonde Legilimens, who treated him with nothing but kindness and warmth after his return to MACUSA. And so wordlessly, he signs off the form and, as a bit of a joke, hands Tina the form to process. The look on the older Goldstein’s face when she sees her baby sister wants to sell pastries that move is reason enough for Percival to get Queenie the license.

The permit is authorised and issued that very same day, and Percival personally hands it over to the couple when he visits their bakery later in the day. He’s somewhat bashful and red in the face when Queenie throws her arms around him and plants a wet kiss on his cheek, and though he recovers quickly with a gruff “you’re welcome”, there’s a soft twinkle in his eye when he tells Jacob to look after Queenie, because she’s a gem. He’s gone in a whirl of black, but the shop, and the Kowalskis’ hearts remain warm. “Hey Queen, take a look at this.” Jacob taps his wife on the shoulder as he opens the envelope that contains their permit, and Queenie’s blue eyes are wide as she reads the Director’s neat handwriting about their new shop just opposite to MACUSA, and that the rental and renovation works have been taken care of. There’s an extra large apple pie on Percival’s desk the next day, and his office smells like green apples for the rest of the day.

It’s hard work, maintaining two shops, but they make it work. Jacob and Queenie still make most of the pastries, although their more experienced employees at the first shop help lighten the load. They focus on their new shop now, which is glamoured so No-Majs only see an abandoned lot. The wizards and witches who frequent the bakery never cease to be enchanted by the charmingly moving creatures, who wave and walk and leap and even fly. Children often tug their parents by their hands to visit the bakery, and the couple take great pleasure in humouring their customers. Word spreads like wildfire, and each day, they close the bakery with racks and trays empty, save for crumbs. MACUSA employees are the most frequent customers, and it’s not an uncommon sight to see all these men and women in their trench coats and fedoras, munching on sugared Nifflers or Mooncalf buns with raisins for eyes. Newt, who is happily engaged to Tina, takes the opportunity to educate his fellow wizards and witches on the creatures these pastries are modelled after, and the children listen with rapt attention at the lanky man with wild gestures as he tells them about the ferocious Nundu who purrs like a kitten, or the gentle Mooncalves who stare at the moon with their eyes large as a brain*. Even Percival makes an appearance several times, along with Madame Picquery, and Queenie always saves the largest slice of apple pie for him, and a Demiguise pastry for her. It’s always interesting to see all the Aurors and their bosses casually feasting on buns and pastries whilst chatting and laughing. Whenever anyone has had a hard day, they go to the bakery where it’s warm and soft and there are kind words from the Kowalskis; it almost feels like home.

Over time, Queenie and Jacob begin to sell candies, as well as enchanted ones. Queenie somehow manages to enchant the candies to emit sound, and so there are bees that taste sour and buzz, and mice with whiskers that quiver and squeak and chitter. But the most popular treat they come up with, is a frog made of chocolate, that leaps away if you don’t grasp them tight. It’s become the darling of every wizarding child, and the horror of all parents because the chocolates do melt, and so a frog will hop away and disappear, but there will be a puddle of melted chocolate hiding in a corner somewhere. Long after the Kowalskis’ hair turn white, and their children have children, and so on and so forth, Chocolate Frogs, along with the Fizzing Whizbees and Ice Mice, remain a staple candy for the wizarding community, and an enterprising descendent of Jacob and Queenie comes up with the idea of trading cards that display famous witches and wizards, which would be included in each purple box of Chocolate Frog. And so, the first customer to buy the newly repackaged Chocolate Frog, opens the box to find a rare, limited edition card of Jacob Kowalski and Queenie Goldstein-Kowalski, founders of the Kowalski Bakery which is still open today in New York, on the street opposite the Woolworth Building.


*This hilarious comparison was provided by the very witty @questionboxjuliet

kygrey  asked:

Person A breaks a bone. Person B nurse. Person C worrying frantically about Person A.

You got it. I also posted it on AO3 right here -> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11816913

Trips to Recovery Girl’s office were a common occurrence for Midoriya. The small room almost felt like a second home at this point. The large window, the white bed sheets, the smell of sterilization wipes, relaxed him every time he paid an unexpected visit. He was used to being the one who needed to be treated, not the other way around. It’d been about two hours since he situated himself outside of Recovery Girl’s office, waiting patiently for visiting hours to begin. Todoroki broke his arm the day before during a training exercise and it may or may not have been Midoryia’s fault it happened.

They were tasked with a recon and relocate, get the item and move it somewhere else. Midoriya held up the large metal obstruction as Todoroki reached for the item. An unearthly scream arose from Todoroki as the metal obstruction slammed down on his arm as Midoriya swatted away a fly that’d landed on his nose.

So, yeah it was definitely Midoriya’s fault that Todoroki was in emergency care.

He sat next to the door, stewing in his own guilt, writing down a myriad of different apologies.

After intense editing, he’d come up with, Hey, sorry I broke your arm. It was the bug’s fault!

Absolutely not. He groaned and crumpled up the piece of paper he’d torn from his notebook, throwing it at the wall across from him. There’s no way anyone would accept an apology that shifted the blame onto something else, especially a bug.

In his frustration, Midoriya’s mind began to wander, thinking about all the worst possible outcomes. What if Todoroki’s arm was beyond repair? What if the broken bones caused him to not be able to use his quirk? He’d never get the chance to work on improving his left side! Maybe he’d even quit trying to become a hero! And it was all his fault!

He hugged his legs close to his chest, trying to hide the tears that began welling up in his eyes. What if Todoroki refused his apology? What if he didn’t want to be his friend anymore after this? Midoriya felt a sing in his chest, Todoroki couldn’t possibly do something like that? Could he?

Even if he did, Midoriya still hoped he was on his way to recovery. That was the most important thing right now. He continued to scribble down apologies until he heard the slow footsteps of Recovery Girl.

“Ah, look who’s here.” she regarded as she dug for the keys to her office in her pocket.

“Am I allowed in to see Todoroki?” Midoriya blurted, slamming his notebook shut and scrambling to his feet.

“Just give me a couple of minutes, I will call you in.” she reassured, opening the door and shutting it behind her.

He paced for five minutes before the door creaked open, “Okay, Midoriya, you can see him now.” Recovery Girl said softly.

Taking a deep breath, Midoriya made his way into the room. He found Todoroki propped up on one of the beds with his eyes closed and left arm in a sling and cast. He looked so peaceful, the sun peeking in through the blinds and coloring his pale face and dark red scar. It almost made Midoriya regret coming to see him now. He contemplated coming back when he was awake, but he’d already waited for two hours…

“Just take the seat next to the bed, he should be up any minute.” Midoriya heard Recovery Girl advice as she took a seat in her own chair, flipping through Todoroki’s medical file, “I need to give him some painkillers before he undergoes treatment.” also known as multiple kisses. For some reason, Midoriya felt himself blush at the thought of someone kissing Todoroki.

He sat in the empty chair and waited patiently. Todoroki’s body was still except for his chest that moved slowly, up and down with each breath. Midoriya counted one hundred and twelve breath cycles before the other boy’s eyes began to flutter and brow tense. Even waking up, Todoroki’s body barely moved. Midoriya couldn’t help but stare as heterochromatic eyes opened and found their way to his own.

Todoroki stared at Midoriya for a moment, then opened his mouth and sighed the green haired boy’s name.

Midoriya really hoped Todoroki didn’t notice the blush that crept back to his cheeks, “Hey, how are you feeling.” he croaked, suddenly staring at his own lap.  Nice one Izuku. You know how he’s feeling…

“I’m fine.” Todoroki shifted slightly and then winced, “There’s only a little pain.”

Midoryia’s head shot back up, “That’s good! So you’re recovering then. I am so relieved that you’re recovering. I was so worried that your arm would keep you from using your quirk and I know you just started using your left side and it would’ve been all my fault if you couldn’t use it any more after all that happened back during the sports festival, oh geeze I need to stop talking, huh?” he rambled in one breath.

“No you’re fine, it’s distracting me from the pain.” Todoroki affirmed, “How long have you been waiting here?”

“About two hours..” the green haired boy admitted sheepishly.

Torodoki’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed a shade of pink, “That’s a considerable amount of time.” he said softly.

“Yeah, well,” Midoriya scratched the back of his head, “I was worried about you.”

“You’ve been to Recovery Girl’s office before, you should’ve known I’d be okay.”

“I still worry.”

Silence filled the room again.

“It was my fault you got hurt, and if anything happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.” Midoriya admitted. He felt his heartbeat speed up, why was this happening?

Todoroki used his right, unbandaged hand to reach for Midoriya’s, “It was an accident,” he reassured, “you never would’ve done this on purpose.”

Midoriya stared at their hands, fingers laced together perfectly. His hand looked deformed, covered in scars with slightly crooked fingers, compared to Todoroki’s smooth palms and long fingers, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me because you are my friend and I am yours.” a squeeze came from Todoroki, adding a period to his statement and the on switch to Midoriya’s usual tears.

“I’m s-so so-so-sorry!” he sobbed, wiping his face with the sleeve of his free arm.

“Midoriya, please stop crying.” Todoroki urged, but his easeful voice only made Midoriya cry harder, “I accept your apology. Please stop.” he begged, using his thumb to draw circles on Midoriya’s palm in an attempt to calm him.

“You need to stop crying because I need to concentrate!” Recovery Girl piped up from her seat, “I can’t figure out the correct dosages if you keep on blubbering like a whale over there!”

“S-sorry Ma'am!” Midoriya sniffled, trying to will his tears back into his eyes.

“Good. Now finish up.” the older woman grunted and went back to her calculations.

Midoriya wiped his face one last time, drying his green and red, puffed up eyes, “I guess I’ll see you during the next visiting hours?”

The red and white haired boy nodded, “I’ll be waiting.” he smiled, eyes crinkling.

There it was again; the kind sentiment struck Midoriya, causing him to blush a deep shade of red that was certainly noticeable. He could feel it burn his cheeks, neck, and ears.

“Yup! You will, I’ll be back! For sure!” he nodded vigorously; quickly let go of Todoroki’s hand to wipe it on his pants due to sudden increase of sweat that magically appeared there, “Well would you look at the time, I better get going. Gotta help Uraraka with the… project?” he said weakly as he scampered to the door, trying desperately to escape further embarrassment, “Anyway, feel better! I’m sorry again! I can’t wait to, uh, see you again! Bye!”

Todoroki blinked twice at the door that’d just slammed in his face. He shut his eyes and sunk into his pillow, taking slow and steady breaths to try to keep his left side from igniting and heart from jumping out of his chest.