#would certainly be a shame if the pretty doctor man took too much of a liking to Jack's gal

[mothwingwritings]

Basic Maintenance

F!Reader X Jack Hanma

Hello everyone! Back at it with a new (maybe old, as I started this forever ago lol) Jack piece! I suppose you could call this a personal piece, I began it purely as a way to vent as I myself REALLY fucking hate going to the gynecologist and I had a pending appointment at the time. So as any sane person would do when faced with having to do something they despise, I wrote this to cope! Who wouldn’t recreate a moment in time you despise, embellished to be much worse than it actually was by starring your favorite fictional characters being horrible so you can live out the whole ordeal all over again but ~sexier~?

Anyway, here it is! Hope you enjoy it!

No explicit sex, but due to the subject material this fic is 18+ please!

Warnings: LOTS of genitalia talk in this one, readers vag is truly the star of the show here. Also heavy talk about doctors and medical procedures, specifically a pap smear, so if that icks you please be mindful! Also within is noncon mentions/past noncon, unhealthy relationships, yandere themes, kidnapped reader, abused reader, spicy reader (you have a bit of a tude in this but honestly its warranted), some language.

“Do you really have to be in here for this?”

Your irritation grew as you glowered at the man leaning nonchalantly in the corner, looking completely at ease as his back rested against the sterile wall of the doctor’s office. Maybe ‘hunched’ was a more suitable way to describe his posture, his mass taking up so much space that his head grazed the ceiling of the compact room, forcing him into an unnatural position. Jack’s face was impassive, eyes tightly closed as his arms crossed loosely over his chest, waiting patiently with you for the doctor’s arrival. He was so still that if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he had fallen asleep.

“Yes,” came his gruff reply, bronze eyes cracking open to lock on to yours, “Now stop asking. It will be over soon.”

You sighed heavily, kicking your feet lazily as they dangled off the medical bench. It was a battle you had lost before it even began, but that wasn’t going to stop you from voicing your complaints. Jack let you be alone for all your other medical appointments, so you didn’t understand why this one needed to be any different.

You were naked save for the baggy, dusty pink, medical gown that had been left for you to change into. While Jack had insisted on being in the room when you changed, he had shockingly granted you privacy while putting it on, turning his large body away the entire time you were undressed. It wasn’t as if you had anything left to hide from him (your nude form was something he had witnessed countless times before), but you had mentioned offhandedly that there was something particularly irksome about his unwavering stare in the confines of a hospital room, a place that was supposed to be private and confidential, that upset you-especially when you had to undress. He must have actually taken those words in to consideration, which was honestly more than you could have hoped for.

You grimaced when you accidentally rammed your fidgety legs into the unfolded feet stirrups that were lying in wait. Though it hurt you made no noise, only frowning at the uncomfortable reminder of the procedure that would be momentarily taking place. Glancing over at Jack amplified the pain, and you wished that at the very least he would grant you privacy for the intrusive process that was about to take place. But wishing amounted to nothing, and so you were left waiting in a heavy silence with Jack not too far off, the pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

The entirety of your life had become monitored by Jack, his ever present watchful eye making sure you were following the stringent rules he had set in place to keep you ‘safe.’ Safe from what you didn’t know, as you felt like little more than a prisoner the entire time you were in his care, locked in captivity with no means of interacting with the outside world other than what Jack deemed fit. Unsurprisingly, this turned out to be barely, if any, interaction at all. Due to this, your days had become a blur, each one resembling the next, melding into a mass of uniform discontent and boredom. All you had was Jack and the walls in which he had encapsulated you, all you had to look forward to was the hope that each day would somehow be a little less abysmal than the last.

However you had learned quickly that voicing too many complaints would only make things worse for you, leaving you to bite the bullet time and again in an effort to not set off this tyrant. If Jack was satiated, at least that meant you could achieve some normalcy in your daily life, even if it was just a crumb. Sacrificing your happiness and free-will had become the price you must pay to retain your sanity, to survive.

And now here you were, on one of his many forced check-ups that were scheduled far more frequently than was actually necessary. Your health had become his obsession, which you found rather peculiar given how much he seemed to disregard his own. Regardless, making sure you were fit and well was very important to him, much more so than looking after his own body. He poured himself into your maintenance with the gusto of a man whose life passion was fixing up old cars, making sure you were fine-tuned and running as you should, looking as pretty on the inside as the outside, it quickly became one of his greatest passions. After all, what was he to do if the love of his life fell ill with some mysterious wasting disease or ended up getting severely hurt? He refused to even entertain the thought of anything that could potentially end your life, and thus started going above and beyond to make sure you would be stuck with him for a very long time.

In all honesty, you usually didn’t mind the abundant health checks that much. It was a chance to get out of that god forsaken apartment he cooped you up in, and better yet, it offered rare moments where you could talk with other human beings without having Jack’s immense presence lingering over your shoulder.

But today was different. Today was the first time that you would be seen for something besides your normal check-up, instead partaking in a different kind of examination, one that was a bit more intimate than all the others previous.

Now that the two of you were sexually active (regardless of if that was something you had wanted and/or agreed to or not), Jack found it prudent that you start getting checkups that catered to those sexual proclivities. Thus, he wasted no time in setting up your first gynecological visit since he had taken you in, pleased with himself that he had the foresight to cover all of your medical bases. You guessed this new sudden fixation was his attempt to show you that in his own way he cared, that he wanted to do all he could to make sure you were healthy in every way you could be. But you also knew it was equally important to him to keep you in good physical condition from all the brutal fucking he had done to you, as you needed to be in one piece for when he continued to mercilessly ravage you in the future.

How thoughtful.

And when it came down to anything medical, Doctor Kureha seemed to be the only one Jack entrusted you with. It made sense to an extent, while Jack normally despised anyone but himself being in your presence, he was particularly adverse to people he didn’t already know. This went doubly for medical professionals that could very well be holding your life in their hands, he’d die before he let some unknown quack even breath in your general vicinity, let alone touch you.

But he knew Kureha and could personally vouch for his medical expertise, so in that regard making him your primary care physician was a no brainer. Deeper still, he could trust Kureha to not air his dirty laundry. The alarming signs of Jack’s passion that riddled your body would be a major red flag for any medical professional that saw them, and any outsider that spotted them would surely start asking questions the moment they laid eyes upon them. Only Kureha could be trusted to keep them mum, it was guaranteed. After all, if the good doctor even so much as made a suggestive comment to another person about the state you were in, Jack had more than enough dirt on the man to swiftly and efficiently end his career (and the muscle power to end his life, should it come to that).

Even with the questionable foundation of your relationship, you truly liked Kureha. You’d even go so far as to say that you considered him a friend, or at least as close to a friend as you can have under Jack’s suffocating surveillance. While going to a doctor’s office for any reason wasn’t particularly fun, you couldn’t help but begin to view the hospital where he worked as an oasis of sorts. It was clean, quiet, and within its glaringly white walls you could almost forget the nightmare your life had become, getting lost in the aseptic-ness of it all.

Kureha made pleasant company as well. You were weary of him at first, as it was hard not to be leery of any person Jack introduced to you. The fact that Jack willingly initiated an interaction between you and one of his associates was suspicious in and of itself, as prior to meeting Kureha he had never made any attempt to tell you about his friends, family, or anyone else that may be in his life.

When he explained that the person he wanted you to meet was a doctor, a specific image came to mind. Maybe they would be an older man, graying hair, kindly and smart. Picturing the mystery man as a fatherly type of figure made your heart hurt a bit, yearning for your own family that you had long since been exempt from seeing. These feelings also made you a bit eager to meet him, hoping to find comfort or camaraderie in this other person’s potentially trustworthy presence.

You certainly were not expecting the Adonis of a man who ended up greeting you.

The thing you recalled the most from your initial meeting with Kureha was how off-putting it was. His well-built, stocky body stood before you with an outstretched hand, his chiseled face framed in lusciously flowing auburn locks as his pouty, full lips offered a casual greeting. The polite smile that lit his criminally pretty face clashed heavily with the image you had pictured in your head, causing a brief moment of whiplash that left you speechless. The conflict between imagined and factual was so jarring in fact, that you nearly laughed out loud the moment you saw him, his strange presentation making you feel like you had wound up as the female lead of some kind of prime-time doctor drama. Appearance aside however, he was calm and mature, speaking to you like the intelligent adult you actually were, which was a breath of fresh air from the dismissive and childish treatment you typically received from Jack. Being in the presence of someone who treated you as an independent human had become a foreign feeling, but a welcome and celebrated one nonetheless.

As time passed and your visits to him grew more frequent, you began to see why Jack relied on Kureha so much. The doctor wasn’t just a pretty face, his medical prowess truly was top notch and he did an excellent job helping you monitor your health and kept you in good shape. His guidance and diagnosis were always spot on and easy to understand, and he had a way with words that made you comprehend his medical jargon without leaving you feeling like a dummy. It was by far the best medical assistance you had ever received, and you decided that should you one day be magically rid of Jack’s influence, it would be worth it to still seek out Kureha for any pending health concerns, even if it meant risking running into your brute of a captor.

But Doctor Kureha was not a gynecologist, and above all, he was a man. Why Jack, someone who was so painstakingly territorial of you, would pick a male to do this particular task was lost to you. Every OBGYN you had visited in the past had been a female doctor, and you honestly sort of preferred it that way. And though you voiced this to Jack, he remained adamant that since Kureha was already aware of your medical history, he was more than capable of taking care of this as well.

A nagging voice inside your brain kept telling you the REAL reason he was so bent on Kureha doing this procedure was to negate the risk it involved. Even if Kureha brought in another doctor who had reproductive health as their area of expertise, a doctor Kureha himself could vouch for that would keep their mouth shut, it was just too precarious of a situation for Jack’s liking. Any outside source that got up close and personal with your most abused area would realize instantly what Jack had been subjugating you to and their conscious could compel them to do something. The last thing Jack wanted was someone trying to play hero, and since Kureha had already seen the rest of the damage on your body and not said a word, it meant he was just as likely to stay silent when encountering the extent of defilement that had been inflicted on your more private areas.

You figured Jack and Kureha had some form of agreement between the two of them, that no matter how battered you came in to his office, nothing would be reported. You were not privy to the details of this agreement, nor did you know how formal it was. All you knew was that Kureha was always there to patch you up, keep you together, and offer a kind word or two, but he never made a move to try and remove you from the situation. No matter how perilous the aftermath appeared or how much your friendship progressed, he stayed in his lane and turned a blind eye to what mattered most.

So while you appreciated Kureha, you also realized you could never fully trust him.

“Well here we are again.”

Kureha’s entrance tore you from your thoughts, your eyes instantly darting to the stately man as he closed the door softly behind him. Looking as immaculate as ever, Kureha greeted Jack with a small nod before turning to you with a smile, which you reciprocated in kind. You couldn’t help but note the small scowl that sat upon Jacks lips, no doubt brought on by the familiarity the two of you shared.

“It’s good to see you again (Name),” he spoke as he made his way over to the seat beside you, waking up his computer so that he could access your medical records. “How long has it been? At least two days? That must be a new record.”

“Very funny,” Jack cut in, completely unamused by Kureha’s light teasing. He straightened his posture as much as the small room would allow, shooting the doctor a wry look. “We came here for a procedure, not your quips.”

Kureha sighed, “Of course, forgive me for trying to lighten the mood.” Turning his attentions back your way, he gave you another smile, “’Quips’ aside, how have you been feeling (name)? It really hasn’t been that long since our last appointment, was there anything particular that sparked the need for this visit today, or…?”

His voice trailed off, as he was already well aware this meeting was most likely not of your own choosing, but another of Jack’s heavy handed assertions. You squirmed on the medical chair, the protective paper beneath your rear irritating the bare flesh it came in contact with.

Before you could open your mouth to respond, Jack spoke on your behalf.

“She is fine,” his words were clipped and to the point, “As stated, we came here for a simple procedure as part of a routine check-up. I think we would both appreciate it if you just got on with it.”

“Yes, I am sure you would,” Kureha scoffed, slight irritation reflected in his voice, “But I was not addressing you Jack, I was asking (Name). And contrary to your beliefs, she will have a more accurate synapsis of what is going on with her own body than you will.”

Jack huffed, puffing up his chest in indignation. But he remained silent, promptly shut up by Kureha’s firm statement. For that alone you could kiss him.

“I’m feeling alright,” you respond simply, “the same as always, more or less... I don’t mean to be rude Dr. Shinogi, but this time Jack is right. I am kind of in a hurry to get this over with.” You frowned, repositioning yourself on the crinkly paper seat once more. “These kinds of visits aren’t my favorite.”

A blush crept on your cheeks as you spoke the words, embarrassed by your own admission. As if this whole ordeal wasn’t invasive enough, you also couldn’t avoid the fact that this was one of your least favorite medical procedures of all time.  Spreading yourself open for the whole world to see, perched on an uncomfortable chair while you awkwardly draped yourself across its stiff foamy surface, feet held back in stirrups as a doctor scraped away at your insides haphazardly, none of it was an enjoyable experience for you. The mere thought made you want to clamp your legs shut and scuttle out of the office, bee lining it straight back to the train station. You never thought you would long for the solitude of Jacks stuffy abode, but there was a first time for everything.

It also didn’t help that Jack refused to budge, adamant he stick around for the whole procedure. Knowing that he would be in the room, looming in the background as he bore witness to the whole excruciating ordeal, just made it THAT much worse.

Kureha acknowledged you with a hum, “Well if it’s any reassurance, I plan to make this as painless and as quick as possible. I can’t imagine that any of this is particularly pleasant for you, so I can understand where your reservations are coming from.”

He turned to Jack, shooting him a knowing look, “And though I am beyond confident in my doctoral abilities, I would like to remind the intrusive party in this room that this particular request is not my area of expertise. I will be efficient and gentle with miss (Name), but I may lack the accuracy of an expert in the field. Disclaimer aside, I would appreciate it if back seat commentary is kept to a minimum.”

“As long as you don’t waste any time and do the job well, you won’t be giving me a reason to voice any complaints,” Jack’s clipped voice threatened, “Now, can we begin please?”

Kureha’s eyes met yours, “Whenever you are ready, place our feet in the stirrups. We’ll proceed from there.”

Taking a deep breath to ground yourself, your shaky legs parted, granting Kureha access so that the procedure could begin. His large hands guided your legs into the holsters with ease, and he shot you one last reassuring smile before he grabbed his tools.

“I’d offer you a blanket for some privacy,” Kureha’s kept his voice low to keep the conversation between the two of you, “But our guest made it abundantly clear that he wanted to see what I am doing at all times. I apologize.”

You gave a curt nod, acknowledging his apology as earnest, but also realizing the good doctor had done nothing but enable Jack’s uncouth behavior this entire time. Not that it mattered at this point, all you could pray was that he at least remained true to his promise of speed and efficiency.

“Just hurry up. Please.”

With no further prodding, Kureha set to work. You cringed as you felt cold steel begin to spread you, your discomfort mounting when his tools entered shortly after. Jack pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer so that he could get a better view of what was being done to your body. Bending down so he could monitor Kureha’s actions accordingly, you squeezed your eyes tightly closed, refusing to add Jack’s beady, unwavering stare to your torment.

As warned, Kureha was not as skilled in this field as you would have liked. His typically nimble fingers seemed to fumble with the tools in hand, the prodding and clawing at your delicate insides causing tears to spring to your eyes. In an effort to keep from crying out you bit into your bottom lip, gnawing at the reddened flesh to quiet yourself. However squeaks of discomfort still managed to slip from your throat, sharp intakes of breath punctuating his hasty motions. Sweaty fists balled around the gaudy surgical gown, tugging it so roughly you could feel the fabric give under the strain. A particularly rough jerk of Kureha’s hand sent a wave of pain through you, your whimpers becoming a full on groan. Reflexively your legs tried to snap shut, your body subconsciously trying to push itself as far from the doctor as you could get, inching up the table in an effort to escape.

“You’re hurting her.

Jack’s growl cut through the air, an edge to it warning Kureha to watch himself. Kureha clicked his tongue, shooting a quick look over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t joking about the back seat commentary,” he retorted, “I’m aware of her irritation, hence why I am moving as fast as I can. I would advise against distracting me further to make the process as easy as possible for her,” he sighed deeply, fixing his attention back your way, “Besides, from the looks of things down here it’s clear she has suffered worse. I would even hazard the reason it hurts her so bad right now is in no small part your fault.”

Jack snarled, intense anger radiating from his presence as he leered over the doctor. It was obvious Kureha’s words had cut deep, the unspoken rule that he never judge Jack’s actions easily broken by his barbed statement. Finally turning your attention to Jack, you grimaced as your squinting eyes watched him open his mouth, primed to release a fiery retort.

“I’m fine,” your sharp voice interrupted their banter, words strained as they were forced from your clenched jaw, “Please, please, just hurry up.”

Kureha’s expression shifted, a softer look flitting across his features as your plea dragged him back to the matter at hand, “I apologize (Name), that was childish way to respond, please forgive me. We are nearly done. Please just hang in there a moment longer.”

True to his words, after a few quick swipes (all of which when executed brought about varying degrees of soreness), the procedure concluded.  You had never been happier to close your legs in your entire life (and given your life’s circumstances, that was saying something).

“And we’re done,” Kureha exhaled, quickly clearing his tools away. He shot you a quick smile as he got to his feet, “You did very well, (Name). I’m sorry my touch wasn’t the softest this go-around, but I appreciate what a good sport you were through the entire procedure. You may bleed for a bit afterwards, which is quite normal. Though it may be hard for the two of you, try and lay off any strenuous activity to the area for at least a day or two, alright?”

A bright blush illuminated your cheeks the moment the words left his lips. Whether he meant them to be or not, they felt mocking and derisive, and hearing them left you feeling as if you were both an ill-tempered child who no one expected to make it through such a procedure with so little fuss, and some manner of sex-crazed harlot that couldn’t go a day without getting any.

“You sure love to talk, don’t you?” Jacks gruff voice chided, making it apparent that Kureha’s loaded words still bothered him. The air between the two of them remained charged with a bristling, negative energy, but with the ordeal finally over with, Jack’s rage was slightly beginning to subside. No doubt he was just pleased that he could finally take you home and have you all to himself. “Are you such an accusatory smartass to all your patients?”

“Just the ones I really like,” Kureha shot him a smug grin, causing Jack’s jaw to clench, “but I am serious. Definitely no sexual activity tonight and tomorrow as well, if you can stand it.”

Kureha reached out his hand, placing it firmly atop your head, giving it a small scrub. “And I mean it when I said you did well. I couldn’t have asked for a better patient! If I had a lollipop or something to give you right now to congratulate you, I most certainly would.”

He laughed at his own joke, but the sound of it only caused your ego to suffer more.

Curling in on yourself to hide your vulnerable state, you shook your head to dispel Kureha’s unwanted attention. Your words came out icy as you shot the two men an equally chilling look. “I don’t need hollow praise, I just need some privacy so I can change back into my normal clothes.” When both men refused to budge, instead staring at you blankly with wide eyes suggesting your frosty demeanor shocked them, you sighed in annoyance, “Please?”

Kureha was the first to comply, turning on his heel to briskly head towards the exit. On his way out, he motioned towards jack, signaling him to follow. “Come on Jack, it’s rude to make a lady beg.”

Jack hesitated a moment before following suit, his hulking form stopping momentarily in the door way to address you one final time.

“Just be quick about it. I want to get you out of here and back home as quickly as possible.”

Hopping to your feet, you made your way over to your rumpled clothing that sat discarded on one of the uninviting metal waiting room chairs. You rolled your eyes as you snatched them up, impatiently waiting for Jack to step away so you could finally get out of the thin gown that covered you.

“You and me both,” you murmured under your breath, stuffing your lower half into your pants as fast as physically possible, “If I never have to go through this again, it would be too soon.”

~

You were thankful that the train was nearly empty when you boarded it, making it easy to find a space in the back that was far removed from other passengers. Though you would typically revel in this opportunity to be amongst other people, right now the only thing you wanted was to be left alone.

The office was not terribly far from where you lived, so Jack usually opted to walk to the hospital instead of taking any transport. But today’s trip had worn you out and left you feeling sore and irritable, so while  he wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of public transportation (too many eyes on you he’d say, even though it was his stature that drew the true attention), in an act of mercy he offered the train as a means of getting home. Of course he had offered to just carry you home first, but the look you gave him at the suggestion was enough to wise him up, bringing up the train as a happy alternative. Thankful to finally have a place to sit and enjoy some quiet for a moment, the tension in your body began to lessen, and you felt as if at least momentarily you could begin to relax.

… At least, you wished you could relax. Jack’s towering form, which was already a suffocating presence in and of itself, was even more smothering as he sat directly beside you. You were wedged in between him and the window, his broad shoulders and spread legs cramping your already limited space. If his bouncing leg and repeated exhales weren’t enough of a giveaway that something was bothering him, the muscled arms petulantly crossed over his chest and a deep set scowl on his face as he shot you numerous hurried glances really brought the fact home.

At first you tried to ignore him, but as the minutes ticked by it became clear to you he wasn’t going to bring up the issue himself, nor was he going to drop the matter and leave you be. This left you with no other choice besides confrontation.

“What is it,” the irritation was clear in your voice as you questioned him. “This whole adventure was your idea, and now it’s bothering you? If you hated the outcome so much, why make me go?”

“I didn’t hate the outcome,” he responded, shifting a bit in his seat as he cleared his throat, “It was a necessary procedure and I am glad we had it done. I’m pleased that you seem more or less healthy down there.”

You scoffed at Jack’s interpretation of Kureha’s assessment of the damage his ‘love’ had done to your body, a reaction he chose to ignore as he continued, “But still, I guess maybe I did have my concerns.”

“…Concerns?”

 You perked up, taken aback by his words. The way he spoke them sounded borderline remorseful,  as if being faced with the irrefutable proof of how violently he has treated you, witnessing firsthand the lasting injury his careless assaults have caused and the suffering that has come with it, began to open his eyes. Could he finally be feeling remorse? Could this day of suffering and embarrassment truly have ended up having such a silver lining?

Several agonizing seconds passed as you hung on baited breath, excited for the first time in a long time to hear what Jack had to say.

“It’s just…” His voice trailed off for moment, his expression contorting in a display of varying emotions, musing over how to word his response. After another brief moment of silence he continued with a sigh, tripping over his tense words awkwardly, as if he were embarrassed to speak them.

“It’s just that when he was working on you … Well, the expressions you made when he was going inside of you… They were the same ones you sometimes make when we are making love, so I was concerned maybe you were, you know… enjoying it.”

As you noted the barely perceptible blush that flushed Jacks cheeks throughout his explanation, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Internally screaming, you chided yourself. What a fool you were, thinking you may actually be receiving an honest apology from this man.

Anger began to creep over you, causing your body to slightly quake. You grimaced as his words stewed in your head, the absurdity of his misconception causing your world to spin. Of course you would be making the same expression when he fucked you as you did at the doctors office- the extreme and unwanted discomfort from either act was one in the same. Only an idiot like Jack would come to the conclusion that your face was contorted in a look of ecstasy instead of the agony you were actually experiencing, lying there spread eagle on the doctors table while you were being chiseled away at.

“No Jack,” you spat at him, seething words to match the daggers shooting from your eyes, “I did not fucking get off at my gyno appointment when Kureha was shoving clamps and other utensils up inside my body, picking away at my innards so he could get tissue samples. Sorry to let you down, but it wasn’t really my idea of a sexy encounter, asshole.”

As you were about to boil over with barely contained rage, you mirrored Jack by crossing your arms, doing your best to hold yourself together as you averted your gaze from him. Keeping things civil was tremendously hard, but you were smart enough to realize causing a scene in public would in no way help you right now.

After several moments of silence had passed, your eyes flicked to Jack’s reflection in the mirror, hoping to gauge his emotional state after your tempestuous outburst. He typically didn’t take kindly to your attitude, especially when it was coupled with name calling. Surely the venom you spewed wouldn’t be taken sitting down, and while the thought of an angry Jack usually terrified you, today you couldn’t make yourself care. In fact, you hoped your small tantrum HAD upset him, wanting him to feel a smidge of the pain he forced you through daily. You may not be able to ever harm Jack physically, but if there was one thing you did have power over, it was his feelings. Despite his tough persona, you were acutely aware that any malice you directed his way wounded him, causing him more grief than he would ever willingly state. And you suspected that this display of your lividity was the perfect attack to take him down a few pegs.

But surprise took you when your eyes landed on his likeness, seeing that instead of an angry glower or wounded frown, a content smile sat upon his lips. His tensed shoulders had relaxed, his entire posture now much more poised and at ease as he sat next to you. He even lazily draped an arm over the back of your seat, his fingers idily stretching out to play with any rogue strands of your hair they brushed against.

“Good,” he spoke pleasantly, “Glad to know I have nothing to worry about. I’ll just have to work harder next time to make you really lose yourself, so you can show me expressions only I will ever see. That way there will be no confusion in the future.”

Your frown deepened as the shit eating grin spreading across his lips grew. It seemed that this time, as always, Jack had won.

“Of course we’ll have to wait a day or two for me to hone my skill, which is unfortunate. But look at the bright side baby, gives me time to come up with some new ideas that will really drive you wild, right?”

God you hated him.

[valley-of-headcanons]

Hi! So...I was reading your harvey x bold!farmer and I know the request didn't want "a downright flirty farmer who winks at him and teases him" but now I keep wondering how Harvey would react to this...

harvey with an aggressively flirty!farmer || headcanons

our favorite doctor is certainly showing his bashful side now ...

warnings: suggestive hinting, nothing explicit but definitely implicit.

requested by: @gangrelispunk , hi!! tysm for the request!! definitely had me thinking about this too after i was done with the request! super cute, and the harvey stans are definitely getting fed. hope you enjoy! <3

• Harvey is an incredibly put together man! He's a doctor, he's very accomplished! He seemingly has all of his shit together, and wouldn't be phased by a lot! ... but, he does have a few weaknesses. And when you come to town, a farmer who has an incredibly flirty attitude towards him ... oh, he's in for it now. This poor boy honestly doesn't know what to think!

• When he first met you, Harvey was trying his best to keep his cool. He found you very attractive, and you had a good vibe! However, Harvey really didn't want to mess this up! He is not one to come on too strong, or to really 'come on' at all. But you ... you were certainly a different story. During your conversation, you were VERY flirty. There were tons of statements that were just suggestive enough to make him think. The last note you left him with was a gentle wink as you walked away.

• “Hello, it's nice to meet you! I'm Harvey, the town's doctor. Please stop by if you need anything ... oh, you'll be stopping by quite often? Do you have a medical condition ...? Oh ... just to see me? Well- ah- that's- ... that would be nice, I believe, as long as there's not someone I'm already working with ... you know just how to distract me? Well, not while I'm working, that's my only request! ... huh? What does that mean? ... oh- ... goodbye?”

• As you two start getting friendlier with each other, you turn the flirting up a couple notches. More suggestive remarks, more winking, maybe a few playful nudges thrown in once you know that he's comfortable with it. Some of these flirtatious remarks go over his head, but when he catches onto a few of them? Oh, he's done for. His face morphed into shades of red you'd never seen before, and his speech was pretty broken. Harvey, a put together man, was spiralling in front of your eyes. What a sight to see.

• “Wh-what? That was ... that wasn't an innuendo, was it? ... only if I want it to be ...? What does that even mean?! I- ... it's not written all over my face, that's just my natural complexion ... I am ... sunburnt ... in ... winter ... okay, maybe that wasn't the best excuse, but just- ignore it! It just does that sometimes, uh- uhm ... I apologize for my behavior, what you said just took a toll on my brain ... wait- what does that wink mean?!”

• As your time together passes, you two inevitably start dating. With your flirting, it was bound to happen eventually! Harvey is still a mess, but it gets better as he gets used to it. He loved how much you show your attraction and love for him with absolutely no shame. He finds it sweet, oddly enough. He does, however, get super embarrassed if you flirt in front of other people. He loves you, but he likes to keep that stuff private!

• “Hi, my love. Are you making sure to take enough breaks today? You can step by my office if you need to rest in air conditioning, I don't mind ... you'd come by? That's great! ... y-you'd what?! N-no, not in my office! You- no- that's irresponsible and would possibly get my license revoked! ... f-fine, we can when I get home- ... wait- what does that mean?!”

• Harvey's brain is certainly short circuited. He's incredibly flattered, though. This man is not used to being loved so unapologetically, and he adores every second of it. He may get flustered sometimes, but he wouldn't trade it for a moment. You have to admit, he's pretty adorable when he's flustered. It seemed like a win-win for both of you!

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Holy crap, you're even more beautiful in person," Richard told his Tinder date, Michelle.

She shot him a humored smirk. "Thanks.... um, not sure how to say this, I'm flattered, but....... uh..."

"I swear I'm not even trying to be corny, you're one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen. It never ceases to amaze me as a doctor the results trans girls like you get when you go on blockers and start high doses of hormones in your teens. You look phenomenal."

Michelle blushed. "Dr. Klein......."

"Please, just call me Richard. We're here to have fun, not be professional. And you look like a girl who knows how to have fun. Those breasts are just divine! And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited to see that pathetic little one-inch cock of yours. When I saw those pictures on your profile, it looked so feminine and cute. Sorry to gush like this, I just--"

Michelle giggled, suddenly pulling down her pants, shifting her legs, showing she had a thick, ten-inch erection. "I'm sorry I forgot to delete my Tinder. Ummmm, soooo....... I stopped estrogen like four months ago......"

"Oh.... my. Look at that growth. Why did you stop, darling?"

She bit her lip sexily, eyeing him confidently. "I'm detransitioning."

"What!? But why? You're so gorgeous, Michelle."

"It's Michael now," he lowered his voice, which began to crack and drop shortly after stopping estrogen. "What? Surprised? My profile had no updates for like six months, dude."

"Oh, shit. I didn't notice. I was so enamored by the videos of you flaunting those breasts, stroking your tiny cock, and talking about your transition and how happy you were to be a girl."

Michael stroked his growing cock, looking around to make sure nobody was looking. "Shhhh, yeah, I'm lazy, I really need to update that. I hope you aren't too disappointed."

"Not at all, you'll make a very handsome guy, that's for sure. What made you change your mind? You seemed so proud to be female."

"Well, I've always been a guy," he curled his voice naughtily. "I dunno..... one of my trans friends, a fakegirl named Lucy, just as hot as me, breasts almost as big, too. She detransitioned out of the blue and loved being a man. He started having sex with all these cute girls, going to parties, topping soooo many hot college girls. I got mad jealous. I figured it couldn't hurt, so I stopped my hormones. Male puberty happened in, like, the blink of an eye! I have a full beard now and everything, wanna see?"

"Sure. Might as well, darling."

Michael let go of his cock, which remained rock hard out in front of him as he very femininely took a makeup wipe from his bag and removed the foundation and concealer on his chin and neck. "Tada! See? Pretty cool, huh? My mustache is coming in, too. Wish it'd grow faster but oh well."

"I still can't believe my eyes.... What a shame, you were so gorgeous!"

Michael shrugged. "It's not a big deal. Anyway, I've done voice training," he said, back in his girl voice. "So I can sound like a girl if you really want..... And I still have these oversized boy boobs for another few days."

"You're getting top surgery?"

"Uh.... duh! Why would I keep them? I'm trying to see what it's like to be a guy, plus detransing is just so much fun I can't help myself! My cock is legit hard 24/7! See?" He stroked it a few more times, softly moaning in his girl voice for him. "I can't believe I was missing out on this for so long. When I cum I feel like I'm gonna pass out it's so intense! I don't care how much I pass or how pretty I am, as soon as I saw Lucy get such a big cock, get all muscular and hairy and, well..... so manly out of the blue! God.... it's all I can think of, giving up on being some pretty little fake girl and becoming a man!"

"Well, you certainly seem to have your mind made up. Would you do me a kindness?"

"Sure, sorry I didn't delete the app and dragged you out here. I'm happy to be a girl for you, if only for the day!" Michael playfully tugged on his cock, giggling in a perfect girl voice.

"Good boy, but let's have some more fun than that."

"OK....? What do you wanna do?"

"All day, I want you to pretend to be my trans daughter, who I'm forcing to detransition."

Michael blushed hot red. "Ummmmmm, er...... wow! I....."

"Flustered? Poor boy. I want to introduce you to as many affluent, wealthy men here as possible. I'll tell them you transitioned in college, and now you've come home, and I'm forcing you to take testosterone and become a guy. Of course, I'll fuck your ass in front of them, telling them what a pathetic sissy I have for a son, showing off those flabby breasts, telling everyone I'm forcing you to have them chopped off this week. And you'll serve all these men, and ask to be treated like a naughty femboy who needs to be punished for pretending to be a girl. How's that sound?"

"Richard...... I mean Daddy, just one question."

"Yes, my confused little angel?"

"Can we make it the whole weekend instead of just today? And..... maybe we can do this again after my boobs get removed?"

"Of course, darling. Now let's find some wealthy men to flaunt that big fat fakegirl cock in front of."

[inhonoredglory]

i dont know if you partake in any of the doctor who comics at all - i certainly dont. i like keeping my sanity safe (its a mess of strange stories and paradoxes from what ive been able to tell. as are most comic series). but recently there was one that elaborated a bit on rose and the metacrisis’s life post journeys end, and its one of the few pieces of media we have for them. i didnt care enough to read the whole thing, the only interesting part to me was apparently they had a little girl named mia, and ive been thinking abt that dynamic nonstop since. cant decide how realistic it is for them, but on the otherside augh its so sweet. anyway, i just wanted to ask how you feel about rose and the metacrisis in general, and whatever that entails. curious abt ur thoughts on them!

- armin anon/lesbian anon/whatever you feel like calling me lol

OMGG my anon (of many names lol)! OK first off, I drafted some of this way back but forgot to add on and post, so in the words of our beloved Doctor,

🌹 But onto the DW comics and Meta-Crisis/Rose!!

I only recently started reading the comics, starting with the ones about Gabby Gonzalez by Nick Abadzis, and I have to admit:

They make me yearn pretty fucking hard to run away and travel with the Doctor. There's some killer art by Elena Casagrande that feels so much like the Doctor we know and love (that kindness, that earnest love.... god!! my heart and soul!!).

But I warn ye (any readers of this post), DO NOT TOUCH Volume 2 by Robbie Morrison. He takes Ten blatantly out of character, making him out to be an arrogant bastard who belittles his companion and is flippant in the face of suffering. (Morrison watched too much Eleven, methinks 🙈)

I haven't read the Rose/Meta-Crisis comic yet (part of the Empire of the Wolf series), but I did see the important panel from that series, showing Rose's daughter Mia:

I think the Meta-Crisis settling down to have a family with Rose is pretty in-character and very much what the Tenth Doctor would have wanted, as much as it hurt him.

Because Ten fundamentally felt unworthy of Rose.

💔 The Doctor's Trauma

Rose was strong and compassionate and amazing, and Ten had done so much, seen so much, experienced so much tragedy and guilt. He's a man wrecked by PTSD, depression, shame, and self-blame. He felt like it wasn't fair to her that she'd sacrifice her life to someone who would go on living and changing and becoming a different person, while she grew old and died in a world without a home and away from everyone she knew.

He didn't want her to become like him, homeless and without the love of friends and family, because to be him is to be alone. And he didn't want that for her. Because he wanted her to be happy, not just momentarily, but for the rest of her life.

Ten is a man who loathes taking life, and it weighs on him every time someone sacrifices who they are because they love him.

It's no surprise Ten's entire decision about the Meta-Crisis took place after Davros massively guilt-tripped him into thinking it was his fault that all those people died. (It wasn't.) But Davros played on Ten's depression and trauma, manipulating Ten into thinking he had done unforgivable things to the people he loved. (when in fact those people died because they were inspired to be selfless like him, or were killed someplace beyond the Doctor's reach)

I've actually been doing a lot of research on Ten's trauma (including invaluable insight from Judith Lewis Herman's famous book Trauma and Recovery). This journal article about Major Depressive Disorder speaks so deeply to Ten's character, especially post-Time War and post-Davros:

"Guilt promotes altruistic behavior via acting out reparative tendencies, whereas shame reduces altruism by means of increasing social and interpersonal distance."

This explains so much about Ten's choice to sacrifice his own happiness and ask Rose to take his Meta-Crisis as her life partner. He's pushing her away, isolating himself. He's rejecting the people he loves the most because he's in a very, very dark place.

🖤🤍💜 An Asexual (Meta) Reading

There's so many reasons that Ten felt he couldn't give Rose the life she wanted (his trauma, his values). There's one angle I've been sifting around in my head in the past couple years, and it's more of a headcanon than anything: For me, because of the way the Doctor's character has been established since 1963, the Doctor's own asexuality is an almost meta-conceptual reason why the Doctor in general can't have a "normative," family life.

He couldn't say "I love you"—not because he didn't love her. (He loved her more than he ever loved himself.) But also because he knew what saying those words would mean: the expectations, the responsibility, the behaviors he felt she deserved to have from him because those words carry so much weight in human culture. All those things he could not give her.

But the Meta-Crisis could. I personally headcanon that the Meta-Crisis is not asexual like the Doctor. (Just like John Smith may not have been asexual either.) The point of both John Smith and the Meta-Crisis is showing how much they differ from the Doctor—and I think sexuality is one of those differences. It's why it was so easy for John Smith to imagine a traditional life, why it was so easy for the Meta-Crisis to promise his entire world and his entire self to Rose on that beach.

🌹 The Meta-Crisis and Rose Tyler

Which brings me back to the Tentoo himself. He was born in battle and he can die, but what does that exactly mean for his life with Rose? It's fascinating because to imagine the Doctor feeling mortality and knowing he cannot cheat death anymore—that's a horrific, terrifying thing.

There are actually two Big Finish Audios that explore this traumatic realization for the Doctor, and what that does to him. (They're both one-shots from Jackie's POV and narration, and you can listen to them here: Part 1, Part 2).

It makes Tentoo lean into his Ninth-era darkness, a ruthlessness to villains driven by the fear that he cannot protect Rose because he is not indestructible. But luckily for him, there are people he loves around him (Jackie and Rose) who keep him from that darkness.

Additionally, the Big Finish stories lean into the fact that Tentoo and Rose aren't sitting idly by. Both of them work for Torchwood and are growing their own TARDIS to continue to defend the Earth.

They don't settle down into a domestic life, at least not right away, and I think that suits them both. We know how much Rose didn't want the life of eating chips and watching telly. But listen to what RTD's Doctor Who has always tried to say: How deeply important the everyday things are, how much the Doctor, for how amazing they are, craves for a life of simplicity and the stupid little things that define humanity.

Because here's the key: It wasn't the everyday things that bothered Rose. Like she told Mickey in "Parting of the Ways":

ROSE: But what do I do every day, mum? What do I do? Get up, catch the bus, go to work, come back home, eat chips and go to bed? Is that it? MICKEY: It's what the rest of us do. ROSE: But I can't! MICKEY: Why, because you're better than us? ROSE: No, I didn't mean that. But it was. It was a better life. And I don't mean all the travelling and seeing aliens and spaceships and things. That don't matter. The Doctor showed me a better way of living your life. You know he showed you too. That you don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a stand. You say no. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else just runs away

Rose didn't hate the domestic, everyday life. She hated how life had no meaning.

She hated how people let things happen to them, without challenging anything or standing up for anything. She didn't want to travel as much as she wanted to live, to be something and do something with her life.

And that's the magic of Doctor Who, particularly RTD's era. Because you can be amazing and you can have meaning even without the Doctor, but the Doctor shows you how.

You stand up for what you believe is right and you choose to give meaning to what you do in life. You don't need to travel the stars to do that. You can make choices that give your life meaning right here and now. You can believe in something. You can find meaning in your place in the universe. You can give your enthusiasm and time to something that is important. Meaning and purpose comes from how we see the world, and that change in perspective is what Rose finds with the Doctor.

If Rose is with someone who can fill her life with meaning, who inspires her to see life as a beautiful adventure, then it really doesn't matter what she's doing with them. In The Impossible Planet, Rose was completely willing to settle down with Ten to "find a planet, get a job, live a life, same as the rest of the universe." Why? Because she'd be with him.

ROSE: This lot said they'd give us a lift. DOCTOR: And then what? ROSE: I don't know. Find a planet, get a job, live a life, same as the rest of the universe.

If I imagine Tentoo as a dad, I can't help but imagine him like Tennant himself. Kind, giving, selfless, and loving. I think Tentoo would be so afraid of letting someone hurt his child, because he hasn't had a family in so long, and he isn't the same man he was in those ancient days when, as a completely different man, he had a family.

He's a man still afraid of himself, still keenly aware of the inhuman things he's capable of. I think this fear would drive Rose and him closer together, like it did when he was Nine. But Tentoo is more self-aware now, more willing to grow and change and be different. Because he's the Doctor who was given a second chance, to live the life he thought he'd never have with the person he loves. He wants to be different to make this work.

I also think Tentoo would be the Doctor who passes on his title after he's gone. Not that I like to think about Tentoo dying one day, but let's be real: Where would his TARDIS go? As a half-human, I think Tentoo could imagine Mia taking on the role of Defender of the Earth when he and Rose have passed on. She would have been there to see it grow, and she would have been there when Tentoo and Rose first stepped out into the stars with this brand-new TARDIS. Because of his mortality, I think it would make Tentoo more open to sharing the secret, sacred things of his Gallifreyan people with the family he chose to start. He's not alone anymore, he has someone to share it with, someone who will pass it on after him and keep the world safe in his stead.

Which is all to say, I think it's a gift that Rose has the Meta-Crisis. Because when Ten regenerated and became, as he said, a completely different man, she was able to stay with the person she fell in love with and explore what that life was like, to have him with her for all of her life, and all of his.

[marvel-and-dc-geek]

Thor: Record of Ragnarok

Thor left the human area, trying to make sure he would go unnoticed. Going to speak with Hulk (or Bruce, depending on who was out ) would have to wait. It was hard to sneak out without no other deity realizing that the Norse gods had decided who their allegiance lied with.

Being around the hospital was a good enough excuse. Sure he could say that maybe he wanted to check out the gods there, or simply that he got lost..tho it didn’t make much good knowing some of the patients there

“Hey, thunder boy!” A familiar voice called at him, tho the asgardian King honestly would rather not talk with that god at the moment, specially after his fight

“Ah, lord Shiva….it’s good to see that you are healing “ it was a shame that he left Mjolnir away to avoid certain issues , mainly because Thor was not wanting to be near the hindu chief at the moment

It was sadly funny, really. Despite his youthful aspect and attitude, Shiva was considerably older than most Asgardians and other beings in the Norse pantheon. His grandfather Borr was younger by some centuries than the four armed dancer (well, now one armed dancer, tho the doctors were able to slowly begin a regeneration process )

“You are way taller than the last time we saw you” well of course, Thor and Loki had both been kids during the last meetings, and since they took place between his father’s lands, both of them were allowed to go.

There had to be a way to make the dancer go away, seeing him right at the moment wasn’t pleasant. Perhaps Loki was right, maybe he could avenge his daughter at the moment… “ time will do that, us asgardians are a bit different than other pantheons “ perhaps a bit too different

“Of course you are, you’re pretty friendly with humans, perhaps a bit too much for some “ the god commented. Could he be suspecting something ? The Hindu pantheon were not a good enemy to have, even in all those circumstances

“Aye, I’ve fought side to side with many mortals, and can attest to their bravery “he wouldn’t deny his friends, however

“Man, you are weird “ the god chuckled, it seemed that his humor wouldn’t go away “say, you aren’t going to pull one like that son of a bitch Buda ? Betraying us like that…” most gods luckily weren’t precisely aware that well, he had friends on earth

“I don’t think it’s needed “ well technically he and the whole Norse pantheon pulled that already, and while two or three Egyptian gods were aware, they certainly didn’t mouth them off

“Of course not, I have to say that humans can be impressive…” hell, up until he saw his first love again, he was sure that there wasn’t going to be a way out of his fight “the Valkyries are sure a great help, wonder who was the one that was with R-“

Thor felt a slight tickling in his right hand, akin to that of Mjolnir’s power “ her name was Thrudd, and she was my daughter” the purpled skinned god should chose his words carefully, of the thunderer wouldn’t care to make those his was ones.

Shiva’s five eyes opened, tho it didn’t seem he was angry. He opened his mouth, as if the deity wanted to say something, but simply wasn’t able to. After some seconds of stunning, he was finally able to speak “I’m so sorry…”

Thor wasn’t sure of what to say, the last thing had expected was for the god to feel. Part of him wanted to at least have and excuse to fight, and excuse to let it all out…

“THOOOR!” A loud trumpet was heard, and the thunderer saw his childhood friend cheerfully arrive

It was curious how things among gods worked, really. Ganesha, the little elephant god, was actually a few years older than Thor and his younger brother. While the two nordics grew up to adults, Shiva’s son remained a child, tho he still wanted to be seen as elder than them.

“Ganesha, it’s a pleasure to see you” Thor couldn’t precisely act as a kid anymore, but still appreciated the, in theory, younger deity.

“Why are you so tall now ? It’s not fair, I’m older !” Ganesha complained and pouted, not entirely assessing the situation

“The Norse are a bit different, son“ Shiva used his one arm to pick his son. Even if he was perhaps a bit to old for that now, but maybe there was a certain feeling of guilt there too.

“Are you going to fight, Thor ? I’ve heard that you’re very strong !”knowing that his dad wasn’t in precisely a good state, the little god didn’t complain

“Nay, I can’t do it for a cause that goes against what I believe “ he would be truthful to his little friend, even if it was only partially.

“Aw that’s a shame…”the little god tilted his head “ you look sad….Papa, maybe we should invite Thor home ! And Loki too, they’re nice. Maybe they won’t be sad anymore !”

It was hard to fool a good of wisdom, no matter what age they had. Both adult gods seemed fully aware of it. Hell, Thor was surprised that his brother hadn’t acted up on something already…

“Maybe some other time” Shiva could understand the thunder god. Had someone done the same to his little boy, he couldn’t imagine what he would have done “guess we will see you around, I…I’m sorry “ it just wasn’t easy to say much unfortunately

The thunderer watched the two gods leave. Thor had to say that he was thankful for the arrival of little elephant god. All he wished for was to have a moment to break down crying. Not just for his little girl, tho she was the main reason, but he had known all the Valkyries that perished alongside their brave warriors. Even for Hercules, who had been a dear friend of his as well… but showing that could get them in trouble.

He went to pick his hammer, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have it so close due to his feelings…and he definitely had thought of that before, seeing that he wasn’t caring it on his side. Right, the Warriors three, who still stayed on the god’s side to appear less suspicious. Maybe it had just been his imagination…

“Hey Papa, since when has Lord Rudra been your boyfriend ?” The tiny voice of Ganesha could be heard

“Ah…let’s talk about that later, son “ of course his son knew about that.

[bbbrianjones]

lovely emmi. can I ask what your ranking of the mental as anything albums is?

ok so you said ranking and i’m gonna turn this into a review of each album because... it’s me <3 i’m only ranking the albums from 1979-1987 because those are the ones i have time for but GOD this was so hard.

6. espresso bongo [1980]

i feel like this is pretty popular opinion. it has some great moments on the album but it just feels kinda dead, it’s just lacking the “quirkiness” that appeared on the last album. it suffers from the dreaded “second album syndrome” where they are recording songs they have only worked on for a week ago due to time, which might explain why a lot of the songs feel rushed or underdeveloped. there’s obviously some good songs on the album. martin certainly shines on here, i love the song cannibal <33 there’s just something quite sweet about - ‘if i were a cannibal you’d be the first to go // or would i miss you too much?’ who would really think about writing something like that?!?!?! also the little harmonica lyric after the chorus just add the nice country twang to the song. ‘come around’ is also such a banger, love greedy’s keyboard solo in the middle <33 also i love ‘won’t let me drive’ - greedy coming through as a fellow non-driver about wanting to see his girlfriend but has no way of getting there, very cute and very greedy <33 also insect liberation with some BANGING keyboards and some lyrics about how insects are taking over the planet. overall it’s a pretty good. overall i think it’s a very good album, good range of songs by everyone. just a shame it wasn’t given the time for it the be properly developed but hey, it was the 80s!

highlighted songs: cannibal, come around, won’t let me drive 

5. cats & dogs [1981]

this is such a banging album. i feel like it’s the first album that is truely “their’s”. i mean they’re still finding their feet but it just has their sound with the niche little songs and i just fucKING love it so much!!! again everyone just shines here with all of their songs - especially martin again girl !!!! fuck it up !!!! i mean ‘if you leave me, can i come too?’ is such an iconic song. it’s just so them. from the cheeky lyrics to greedy’s little keyboards throughout the song. i mean what else is there to say - great song! also love ‘let’s cook’, you would think with how simple and repetitive it is you’d get bored of it but you just can’t! again greedy and his keyboards, this man had it going on!!!!! find it so bizarre they actually performed this song live. idk why. and the growl that martin does is honestly a bit weird. this was technically the first song i heard by them because they did a version with the wiggles which surprisingly (or maybe unsurprisingly) is kinda their best song. ‘too many times’ is an actual tune, hella annoying because it gets stuck in my head all the time but that’s sorta the point??? again greedy back at it again with the keyboards (and also harmonica!!!!!) love the bouncy “jumpy” music against the really dark and depressing lyrics. love the way greedy sings “doctor that i went to couldn't do any good // he gave me pills for sleeping i took more than i should” like he’s guiltily confessing to it. BERSERK WARRIORS !!!!!!!! WHAT A FUCKING BANGER !!! WE NEED MORE SONGS ABOUT ABBA WITHOUT REALLY BEING ABOUT ABBA BUT A STILL ABOUT ABBA !!!!! i just love it. you can literally not go wrong with a gregorian chant and honestly we need more of them nowadays. i really want to like this album more but the other songs are just kinda lacking :/// like the most popular songs are excellent and then the deep cuts are.... well deep cuts. 

highlighted songs; berserk warriors, too many times, if you leave me, can i come too?

4. creatures of leisure [1983]

now THIS is literally a classic. LOVE THIS ALBUM SO MUCH !!!! wish i could say it’s not because of spirit got lost but i would lying through my fucking teeth. can’t even lie spirit got lost is one of those songs that you just have to hear to believe it - honestly have no idea what my guy is singing about but i love the horror and darkness that it has. i mean that bass is just so sexy and the constant thud it makes throughout the songs, but especially in the verses, just adds literally so much to the song. and the instrumental - look greedy and his keyboards i mean what can is say?? it just sounds like bones being rattled together and i have no idea what that actually sounds like but i’m gonna assume it’s that. and i mean nothing fucking takes me out like ‘there’ll always be a chair for you in the corner of my heart’ like WHAT?? FUCKING WHAT ??? OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKK. THAT SHIT IS GOING ON MY GRAVESTONE!!! i swear is that not one of the greatest lyrics of all fucking time??? AND RIGHT AFTER THE INSTRUMENTAL AS WELL??? greedy... honey.... i know it’s credited to mombassa/smith but i’ll be fucking DAMNED if you did not write that line. anyway there’s other songs i love on this album. close again is one of the sweetest song ever. a very greedy song not written by greedy. i love the chill mellowness of it. literally i played this song with my brother in the car and he went ‘what’s this hippie shit?’ which was a little bit rude considering i love this song but i get what he means. there’s just something sorta hawaiian shirt about it but like in a good way. also brain brain is a genius song - i love how the songs transitions from verse and chorus. it’s very dissociated and causes an uneasy feeling which i think reflects the mood of the song. fiona is an underrated bop, bit of a country guitar side which gets me moving! drinking from her lips as well is a really good song. this album is very chill suburban album that just shows the potential they were capable of achieving with their next album (hint hint hint!) 

highlighted songs: spirit got lost!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! just go listen to it pls <3, close again, drinking from her lips

3. get wet! [1979]

where it all begins!!! you know that post where it goes ‘i love debut albums because it shows raw and realness” well baby if that does not perfectly describe this album i have no idea what does! considering there were like four main songwriters in the band, all of the songs are pretty consistent yet still show off the different sounds of each member. martin and reg SHINE here. i love spanish gardener, interesting lyrics and rhyming (been watching you for some time // while i eat my pie at lunch time) and again, greedy’s keyboards with that slight fuzz mixed with the sharpness of the guitars just cut through like a knife! it makes the song quite funky and cool <3 love the song sheilah as well. most of the songs are just. so keyboard that you almost get whiplash wearing this song, it’s just so guitar-driven that it gives an edge to the album. i love business and pleasure as well, there is something quite raw and real about it, just the sorta tongue in cheek mocking of the music business (threads and licks and jokes and pretty lights too). also talk to baby jesus - i would have loved to be at a gig when they started playing this song, the place would’ve gone fucking oFF! greedy’s two songs are another man’s sitting in my kitchen, which is about him peaking through the window of his old house to find (guess what!) another man’s sitting in my kitchen with his ex girlfriend and insurance man, which is about how he would die if his girlfriend left him and he’d like to put a claim on his life. and im sure you can deduce what greedy’s toxic traits were (he’s a capricorn it’s forgiven). can’t even lie but i would die on the hill for insurance man, the way the guitar goes from quiet to loud while also becoming more manic just adds such a foreboding and horror note to a song which could be deemed quite spooky. this album also has the classic ‘the nips are getting bigger’ which i love asking what people think the nips are in the songs. i remember hearing about the title first before the song and just being amazed that it would have even be allowed to play because i thought they were talking about nipples. now i am sure that doesn’t come as a surprise to literally anyone. i feel like this album is a bit of a hit or miss but i love it. love it so much. 

highlighted songs: insurance man, spanish gardener, business and pleasure

2. fundamental (or fundamental as anything) [1985]

MY BOY HITTING THE BIG TIME!!!! this is where greedy literally popped off as a songwriter. like it started with spirit got lost and then only got better and better as the albums kept coming out. i’m really sorry for the other guys on this album because i only really know the singles off and they just so happen to be by greedy. like i’m sure there’s some other great songs i just haven’t listened to them yet :// my bad! this is by far their most popular album because it has live it up on it, which i mean if that was the only song it would still make the top three on my list. live it up is just a certified classic bop by everyone who has ever listened to it. from the keyboards at the start to grab our attention to greedy’s country twang vocals singing about comforting someone depressed over some stupid man. i have listened to this song in times of crisis because it just instantly makes me feel so much better about everything going on around me. i have both sung and cried along with this song because it just feels like such a warm hug. i mean it literally opens with ‘how can you see looking through those tears? // don’t you know you’re worth your weight in gold?’ like what the fuck greedy. i’m cured. and of course ‘hey yeah you with the sad face come up to my place and live it up // you besides the dance floor what do you cry for let’s live it up’ how can you not see those lyrics and just be immediately filled with love and hope. it just made me realise how powerful music is and what it can do to impact a person’s life or feelings. anyway thank u greedy !! thank you for this one song, thank you for making my life just that little bit better <3 i miss you so much <33 anyway ‘you’re so strong’ is also a very sweet song, greedy said he wrote it as a feminist anthem which is certainly an interesting way of describing it but whatever you say lil guy. there is an endearing quality about it though, as well as very addicting. i hear this song and then it’s pretty much all i hear for the next three days. and of course date with destiny <3333 love this song so much, whenever i hear that keyboard and drum machine i literally get so PUMPED! and it includes ‘me loving her was always meant to me to make my life complete’ like you are seriously going to find me floating face first into a fucking lake soon!!!! it is slowly killing me !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! overall i do like this album for the shallow reason of i believe those last three songs were written about me but they sorta secretly are so it’s ok <3

highlighted songs: live it up, you’re so strong, date with destiny 

1. mouth to mouth [1987]

and here we are, literally the best album ever made. again greedy, literally the king <3 but every song on this album is just a bop, no flops allowed here. 

don’t tell me now - what a fucking opener. love the 80s saxophone and drum machine. 

my door is always open to you - best song ever written (and underrated!) why does this song get overlooked when it comes to this band?? you know why does this band get overlooked all the fucking time in the first place?? i just love the beatnik sorta vibe to the sound with the flicking of fingers and that bass and then how it goes through verse to chorus of going quiet before soaring up !!! i feel like i’ve heard this song somewhere else but i honestly have no idea where. anyway time for the lyrics that makes me lose my marbles - ‘don’t stand outside in the cold // you’re a sight for sore eyes’ i mean does that not want to make you melt!!!!  

put me back - reminds me of something very depeche mode if depeche mode was allowed to have guitars. 

let’s go to paradise - best song ever written. there is a sorta conga feel to it which again might explain why it gets stuck in my head for four years whenever i hear it. and of course “don’t you wonder bout the time that you’ve spent wasting your own when you could be wasting mine?” again fucking what? that line is so real it almost could have come from shakespeare or austen but nope. that’s from my fucking king in sydney <3 

the mad king - i have no idea why this song goes so hard but it does. the fucking vocals are just so fucking funny to me. i love it. 

he’s just no good for you - best song ever written. considering the subject matter this song is pretty ahead of its time. i mean for real he’s just no good for you .... why are you going back .... you deserve a whole lot better than that. greedy was honestly our biggest ally. 

thinking out loud - tune. 

stay at home girl - again harmonica fucking slap. 

mouth to mouth - literally how i imagine cocaine to feel like. 

i’m glad - nearly died when i first heard this song. i’m glad i’m with you too greedy !!! 

ruby baby - i am in a bahamas with a margarita and you will not change me. 

wandering through heavens - mentions the devil being let out of a cage. how can you not?

overall they ended their golden period what can only be described as their best album and i’m so glad they did this album for me and i would kiss them all on the cheek. except for greedy, he can get a kiss on the mou- *GETS GUN DOWNED*

[tonystarkfucksaround]

Charles doing his best to get Erik therapy but the only thing that managed to get accomplished is that the doctors ended up needing therapy. And yes there are more than ones because he needs a whole fucking a panel of psychiatrists to look over him!

Hi! So I was going to write something silly and fun, but it maaaaybe got a little out of hand and turned somewhat (but not really) serious in the end, sorry :'D

Think of post-XMFC, no-Cuba-divorce AU! (although the timeline is somewhat ambiguous, so it could easily be read as a modern powered AU, too, I guess)

***

“Erik…”

Charles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Erik just scowled (harder) and crossed his arms across his chest (tighter). A little more, and he was going to accidentally turn into a diamond, putting Emma Frost to shame.

His mind was a dark thundercloud that Charles could feel even through his mental shields – and honestly, at this point he was mostly shielding for his own sake rather than out of courtesy to Erik’s wishes.

He could feel the beginnings of migraine building behind his eyes.

Impossibly, Erik scowled even harder when the pause stretched, the corners of his mouth twitching defiantly. Even without looking into his mind (god forbid, but Charles wasn’t going in there, not right now, he wasn’t) Charles knew that Erik was waiting for him to say something – to admit that it was fruitless, perhaps, or to finally deem him broken beyond repair.

It wasn’t true, of course, but after the fifth time this week alone – and it was only Wednesday, lord help him – when he had to wipe a therapist’s memory because Erik’s scheduled visit went spectacularly out of hand, a part of him was almost willing to consider that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

And to think that he’d been delighted when Erik actually agreed to see a therapist. Granted, it was after months of prodding and nagging and almost begging, and even then his agreement was more of a tantrum where he yelled that he’d go only so that Charles would please shut the fuck up about it aleady, but hey, at least he agreed! So it had to be a small victory, right?

Wrong. Oh, god, had he been wrong.

The first one was… well. Suffice to say, Charles didn’t really expect Erik to hit it off with the first therapist he found, regardless of her impeccable references and a variety of diplomas. He might not have accounted for Erik nearly killing the poor girl, either, which, okay, his bad; but all in all, it hadn’t been that bad, even if it made a rocky start. Erik didn’t kill the therapist, after all, which definitely counted as a win in Charles’ book, and furthermore, he agreed to try someone else after he had some time to cool down.

The next four appointments ended up pretty much in the same fashion.

Erik really didn’t want anyone getting into his head. Telepath or not.

“Just admit it, Charles,” he had sneered after Charles wiped clean his sixth therapist, leaving the man slightly disoriented, but not much worse for the wear, dozing in his spacious office, convinced that his four o’clock appointment couldn’t make it. “This is just a waste of time. No therapist in a whole world could ever fix this,” he had made a vague gesture at his head and grinned crookedly.

“Now that’s quite a bold statement, my friend,” Charles had said, squeezing his arm and ushering him out. “The world is terribly big, after all. We’ll find you someone you’d feel comfortable talking to yet.”

Erik had just shaken his head, incredulous, but didn’t refuse to try again.

And so they tried. And tried. And tried.

It took Charles almost a month of going through the best therapists New York had to offer to realize that Erik not going for the kill was not, in fact, an improvement; he kept his promise not to look into Erik’s mind, but he did have to look into the minds of all the therapists Erik had managed to traumatize along the way, and while he wouldn’t go so far as to say that their memories gave him nightmares, it certainly had been… less than pleasant.

And Erik, the troll that he was, apparently realized that this was much more fun than simply trying to strangle the doctors with any spare metal that could be found in their offices.

When it became obvious that Charles wasn’t going to say anything, Erik dropped his hands, admitting – not a defeat, not exactly, but a temporary truce.

“Lunch?” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking to the elevators after Charles. Charles sent him a sharp glare.

It was a part of their routine now – they went to the therapist’s office together, Charles reciting their achievements and references the whole time it took them to get to the city from Westchester, Erik spent five to fifteen minutes at his appointment — fifteen being the record so far and having only happened once — with Charles waiting patiently at the reception, then Charles had to burst in and wipe a crying therapist’s memory clean. After that they usually went to have lunch or dinner, if the appointment happened later in the day, and, occasionally, catch a movie or get a drink at the bar before they had to go back to the mansion.

If Charles had to be completely honest, it was starting to grate on his nerves. More than once he caught himself thinking that these outing would’ve been so much more pleasant if they didn’t have to start with various therapy sessions; he felt guilty for these thoughts, of course – he wanted to help Erik, he truly did, and he’d never admit that Erik was ‘beyond salvation’, no matter what happened at his appointments – but good god, was it exhausting.

“I’m not really in the mood to be around people right now,” he managed to grit out, just barely keeping from snapping. “So if it’s all the same to you, I suggest we call it a day and go back to Westchester.”

Erik tensed beside him.

“Ready to admit…”

“No,” Charles sighed, frustrated, and rubbed at his face. “No, Erik, I’m not going to admit any such thing. I’m not giving up on you. We’ll find you someone to…”

Erik groaned, and the elevator’s doors slammed open with a shriek of metal that betrayed some sort of interference from the audience.

“I don’t need it, Charles. That’s—that’s not giving up, for fuck’s sake! You always speak about getting someone to listen to my issues, but you’re the one who won’t listen!”

“I’m a geneticist, Erik, not a therapist,” he snapped back. Erik’s anger no longer felt as suffocating as it had been at the office upstairs, but still it did little to alleviate his upcoming headace; the throbbing pain was getting worse by the second, and Charles really didn’t need to deal with this now. “I’m not qualified to help you with this!”

“You’re the only one who is,” Erik countered. “You can’t seriously expect a human to understand—”

“Well, and you can’t expect me to just—watch you breaking down, knowing I can’t help because you won’t let me into your head, and do nothing!”

The receptionist at the lobby startled when the elevator came to stop on the ground floor and the doors opened right as Charles shouted the last words in Erik’s face. He smiled tightly, barely apologetic, and considered wiping her mind for good measure – it’s not like his headache could get much worse, anyway. Before he could do it, though, Erik grabbed him by the arm and tugged him out of the building, muttering angrily under his nose.

“Charles, I have… issues. You know that. Hell, even I know that – and don’t you dare start with the whole ‘admitting a problem is the first step of solving it’ bullshit! It’s not going anywhere. There’s no fixing it. And this,” he waved a hand at the building they left behind, lips curling in distaste, “is not going to help it.”

“This is what I don’t understand – you never as much as give them a chance,” Charles winced, the streets too busy with the rush of people in the mid-morning rush, and the clutter of thoughts too loud even through his shielding. “Why go at all, then? You know I don’t think of it as a waste of time, and you’ll have tough luck trying to outstubborn me, my friend – but if that’s what you truly believe, then… why?”

He expected another snarl, or another biting remark, maybe a frustrated growl and an insistent need for a fight that never really left Erik’s mind, although its spikes used to be more dull these days and hardly ever pointed at Charles himself. Instead, Erik hesitated, and when Charles turned to look at him, confused, he pressed his lips tightly and nudged Charles to a side street. It was out of their way, but it was less busy, which, while wasn’t exactly a relief, was still a welcome sensation.

Erik’s anger and frustration giving way to something akin to hesitation were even more so.

“You want me to,” Erik said simply after a few minutes walking in silence. His shoulders hunched, and he wasn’t meeting Charles’ eyes – but he felt honest, almost painfully so, and Charles felt his heart clench. “I know I’m fucked up. I made my peace with it long time ago. I accepted it as a part of myself. It suits me just fine.”

Charles frowned. From what he saw in the months they spent together, it was anything but fine – Erik saw himself as a monster, and for all that he was strong, stronger than anyone Charles had ever met in his life, probably, he was also very much unstable – perhaps even more so now that he had killed Shaw and promptly lost the only goal that had been dictating his whole life up until that point. Erik had never expected to make it out alive, Charles knew that much, had gleamed it from his memories before Erik snapped at him to stay out of his head; he didn’t die that day, but he teetered dangerously on the edge of losing himself, and it was nothing short of miracle that nothing irreparable happened in the end.

After, he did his damn best to give Erik another goal, to give him a place to call home, people to call friends, family, to give his life a new meaning. There were days he could almost believe that it worked, could trick himself to feel content that Erik was healing; but then he’d catch a haunted look in his eyes and know that it wasn’t enough, that Erik still felt lost and unhinged, and the helplessness that followed that realization was enough to drive Charles up the walls.

Hence the therapists.

“It doesn’t suit you, though,” Erik added quietly, when Charles held back his tongue for once, and glanced at him from the corner of his eye. His eyes were – wary, Charles realized; wary, uncertain and tired. “I know you want me to do something about it, so--”

“No,” Charles paused, and they both stopped, the few passersby skirting around them with flashes of annoyance that he payed no mind to. “No, Erik—do you think I want you to change?”

“Isn’t this what this is about?” Erik’s eyebrows shot up to his hair, and for a brief moment he looked as perplexed as Charles felt.

“Erik, therapy isn’t—it’s not about… I don’t want to change you,” he finished lamely. “I—like you as you are, thank you very much. Probably more than healthy,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, swallowing a self-depreciating chuckle. “And that’s precisely what I want you to understand – that you don’t have to change anything, because there’s nothing to change. You’re not a monster. You’re not broken. But you do need to see how much good there’s in you, how much you’re capable of—”

Even through his shields, even through his persistent headache, even through the buzz of hundreds of minds on the streets around them, he felt, with a sudden clarity, a spike of longing, of need, and a vivid, distinct whisper of a thought, god, but I want to kiss him.

He stared, gaping like an idiot.

Erik smiled ruefully, shrugging – his mind turned a confusing mix of panicky yet weirdly calm, as if now that he knew he was busted (and was he, really, did Charles accidentally slip in his mind, losing his control for a moment, or did he intentionally project that thought?) there was no need to hide anything.

“Oh god,” Charles said, voice shaking a little, but before Erik had the chance to frown, worried (sick with worry, actually, that weird calm giving way yet again to the cold dread of ruining everything of losing this--) his face split into a huge grin that he wouldn’t have been able to contain even if wanted to. “Erik, you’re—you’re an impossible man, do you know it?”

He tugged Erik’s sleeve, pulling him close, closer still when he tried to resist – but everyone turned blind eye all of a sudden, them becoming practically invisible to people giving them a wide berth now, all so that he could wrap his arms around Erik’s shoulders and press their lips together, catching Erik’s surprised gasp and smiling.

“Come on,” he muttered after a moment. “I think you said something about lunch?”

“I though you said something about not being around people,” Erik breathed, and it didn’t really sound like he was being considerate, but rather like he was contemplating how getting Charles alone could be beneficial to him.

Charles chuckled and kissed him again.

“I can stand a little headache, I think. But really, Erik, you should’ve told me we were going on dates sooner; I can’t believe I’ve missed so many of them!”

“It’s only fair,” Erik sniffed. “I had to tolerate seeing therapists before we could get to the fun part. And it wasn’t even that fun.”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it so easily,” Charles reprimanded him fondly even as they started winding their way through the street to find a proper diner, hopefully not too crowded for the sake of his headache. “We’ll find you a therapist yet.”

“As long as I get something to look forward to afterwards,” Erik squeezed his fingers lightly and smirked when Charles flushed, only now realizing that he let go of Erik’s sleeve only to grab his hand instead, “I think I wouldn’t mind giving it another try.”

[we-are-so-close]

Promised Life

Yandere!Illumi x female reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+; Minors do not interact, Angst, smut, yandere behavior, noncon, dubcon, implied death, kidnapping, forced marriage, oral (female receiving), vaginal sex, breeding (please let me know if I forgot something)

Author's Note: This is pretty dark. And very smut heavy. And the longest fic I've written so far. Very nervous about it.

======================================

The sound of cries from the baby monitor woke you and your husband.

“Aw, he’s been doing a lot better about sleeping through the night,” your husband’s groggy voice whispered in your ear.

“I know. I’ll go check on him,” you said as you tried to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Love you, babe,” your husband kissed you on the back of your head.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, too...Butt,” you teased as you threw on your nightgown.

You slowly crept into the baby’s room to see him standing up in his crib.

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed as you turned on one of the lights next to the rocking chair. As soon as he saw you, he started jumping up and down, hanging on to the side of the crib.

“What are you doing, silly boy? It’s time for bed,” you picked him up and kissed his sweet little head. You cradled him; his head in the crook of one of your elbows with your other arm supporting his back side. You rocked him back and forth, his eyes getting heavier and heavier as the time passed. Eventually, he was asleep in your arms. You placed a soft kiss on his head before carefully laying him back into his crib.

“Good night, my precious boy,” you whispered.

As soon as you turned the light off, a cold chill shot down your spine. It caused you to freeze right in place. You hadn’t felt this aura in years. You haven’t felt this since…

“No!” You gasped. You felt as though you were in a clouded haze. You couldn’t think clearly, your breathing started to quicken. As much as you tried to move, you couldn’t. The aura you felt before is getting stronger, thicker. It’s too hard for you to breathe. Dizziness takes over and you collapse to the ground. The last thing you saw before you faded out of consciousness was your child’s sweet sleeping face.

Your eyes slowly opened. Darkness. Darkness was all you could see. And pain was all you could feel. Your head felt as if it was being split open. You tried to move your arms to lift yourself up, but you weren’t able to move. You opened your mouth to scream, but nothing more than a murmur came out. Your chest began to rise and fall rapidly. A wave of nausea washed over you.

“No,” was all you could muster as the tears started to fall and the sobs began to choke you.

A shadow moved closer to you.

“Awake already?” a familiar yet cold voice asked. “I shouldn’t be surprised though, you are just as strong now as you were when you left me five years ago. Although, I was sure that you would have realized the poison that was slipped into your evening tea .”

“We...I-I didn’t…,” you struggled to get the words out. Your brain couldn’t begin to process where to start.

He took a seat next you on the bed where you laid. He began to rub your head.

“Shh, it’s okay. I forgive you for lying. And for running away. Now that you’ve come back to me, we can be a family...” He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “...like you promised.”

Five years ago, you and Illumi had been engaged. You were in love with him and you were excited to start a family. However, there had been some complications. Before marrying into the Zoldyck family, tests had to be run. You passed all of them with ease. All of them except one. The doctors told you that all of their tests had come to the same conclusion: infertile. Your heart shattered. You fled the manor before you could even face Illumi with this information, the shame you felt was too overwhelming.

You moved as far away as you could and tried to make yourself disappear. You had wanted to live the rest of your life wallowing in your own self-pity. The previous life you had dreamed of was not going to happen. You had accepted that. And you thought Illumi accepted it, too. He didn’t come for you like you thought he might. In your mind, he had given up on you and you had put that part of your life behind you.

You weren’t expecting to fall in love with another man so quickly, get married so quickly, own a house together so quickly, and you most certainly were not expecting to get pregnant and have a beautiful baby boy so quickly. Everything you had ever wanted happened so quickly, and you had forgotten about the life you had once promised to someone else.

“Illu-Illumi. I-Where…” you breathed in hard. His face hovered just over yours.

“You’re home, ______,” he stated with a smile. “And here in a few hours, we will finally become man and wife.”

“But..but,” you squeaked out.

“I know how happy this must make you. But you can tell me when we exchange our vows. For now, I will leave you to gather your strength and get ready. Until then, my love.” He kissed your temple and walked away.

The head pain mixed with your attempts to speak and the gravity of this situation was too much for you. Exhaustion overtook you. The next time you opened your eyes, the room was bustling with servants. You could hear the quiet whispers from them upon seeing you wake up. A butler appeared in front of you. A familiar face. She was one of the butler’s that was originally assigned to you when you first planned on staying in the manor.

“______, it’s so nice to finally have you back. Now, sit up.”

“What?” you asked, still slightly confused.

“Oh, for goodness sake, let me help you.” She grabbed your arm and yanked you up. Upon standing, you could see that they had already changed you into a wedding dress. It was lace. Long-sleeved and backless. The dress of your dreams. You had once discussed with Illumi what your dress might look like.

“Master Illumi had this made just for you. The least you could do is stand upright.”

The poison you consumed was still taking its course through your body. Your head hurt slightly less and you were able to move, but you still needed support to stand.

The wedding itself was quite short. Illumi stood next to you for support, arm wrapped around your waist. The vows you spoke were ones that Illumi had written for you. And you knew better than to refuse to speak. Having your own free will was more important than words that meant nothing to you. You were well acquainted with his nen abilities. You saw how it affected the unfortunate souls that were on the other end of his attacks.

After you both took your turns saying the vows, you were pronounced husband and wife. He gave you a peck on the lips and then turned you to face everyone. Everyone clapped and you felt immense sadness. The tears in your eyes threatened to break the surface. Illumi enveloped you in his embrace. Your face was resting against his chest as the two of you danced slowly. You now had enough strength to speak in short sentences, so you tried to reason with this man.

“Illumi, this marriage isn’t binding. I’m already married. I-I have a family now,” you muttered in hopes that it would somehow change his mind.

“It’s already been taken care of, ______. There’s no need to bring it up again.”

A whimper escaped your lips. He pulled you away from his chest to look you in the eyes.

“Hm, I think it’s time we wrap this up. What do you say?” He wasn’t really looking for an answer from you. His mind was made up. After the song had ended, he announced to everyone that you were not feeling well and that both of you were turning in for the night. He carried you bridal style to his chambers.

He laid you on the bed and began undressing himself.

“When I found out why you left, I was more hurt than anything else. We could have figured something out, ______,” he stared stoically at the wall. “I was going to come find you, but I had some important family business come up. It took a little longer than expected, but I never forgot about you. And you did a decent job of hiding yourself. I only found you last year. And by then, you were married and with child. I wanted to take you back, right then and there. But I weighed my options and decided I would watch.”

A terrifying thought to realize that he’s been watching you for a year. Even more terrifying was that you hadn’t noticed.

“I grew angrier by the day just watching you live your silly little life. I wanted to just kill you all. But then I saw the bond you formed with that child. The way you cared for it was….endearing. It helped me to reaffirm why I wanted you as a partner all along.” He was completely undressed and now his focus was on you. “So, I watched you some more. I watched your interactions with the child and decided that now was the time to bring you back to where you belong.”

He ripped your dress, exposing your breasts and underwear. You moved your arms to cover yourself, but it was futile. He was much stronger than you, even if you weren’t poisoned. With one hand, he was able to wrangle your wrists together and pin them above your hand. The other hand was moving across your body, giving you goosebumps. His touch was surprisingly soft and warm for someone so cold and uncaring.

He caressed your breast and pinched your nipple, eliciting a response from you. He put the other nipple in his mouth and teased you with his tongue. He sucked on it and could feel you trying not to squirm underneath him. He released it with a loud POP! sound, echoing in the room. You tried to bury your face in your arm so you wouldn’t have to look at him. But he grabbed your face and turned your head toward him.

“If you were able to conceive a child with a non-nen user, then you can conceive a child with me. We will do this everyday until you are with child.”

A look of terror on your face was ignored by your new husband as he ripped your underwear off. He let go of your wrists so that he could better face your entrance. He spread your legs and began working quickly. He started circling your clit with his tongue. He’d use the tip of his tongue for the quick little circles, but then he’d switch it up and use the pad of his tongue to lick from your folds to your bud. He was sucking you when he inserted a finger. A gasp escaped from your lips and you could feel him smile.

He came up to face you, finger still moving in and out.

“You know, the one good thing from watching another man fuck you is that I learned what you like and what get’s you off.”

Once again, you were ashamed and tried to hide your face again.

“Remove your hands or I’ll move them for you.”

And once again, you were reminded of how you would rather do things of your own free will instead of having them done for you. You obliged and he went back down on you.

He continued to lap at your clit while inserting another finger. You were trying your best to push all of this out of your head, to not make a noise. But his fingers were moving against the spongy part of your wall. The friction from his fingers and the movement of his tongue was enough to bring you to your climax. Your walls tightened and fluttered around him while your juices flowed down his hand

“Good girl.”

He removed his fingers and brought them to your lips.

“Open.”

Again, you obliged and took his fingers in your mouth. You sucked and licked, cleaning yourself off of him. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and his lips met yours. He kissed you with such intensity. It took you by surprise. The passion he was displaying was certainly unexpected.

His cock soon began to fill the empty feeling in your cunt. When you gasped, he forced his tongue into your mouth. Back and forth, back and forth, the girth stretched your walls. It was pleasurable, though you did not want to admit it.

He bit your bottom lip before he drew away. “______, you’re so tight. But you accept me so eagerly. We were made for each other.”

He slowly pushed his way further into you. When he bottomed out, you moaned.

“Illu, too much,” you cried.

“But you’re doing so well. You will get used to it.”

Illumi stared in your eyes as he slowly pumped in and out. You wanted to look away or close your eyes, but you simply couldn’t. His fingers were intertwined in your hair, his face hovering above yours.

“Illumi…” you whispered. His lips got caught up in yours once more.

He pulled his torsos away from yours and pushed your legs to your chest. You didn’t think he could go any deeper, but this position proved you wrong. Each thrust hitting your cervix, causing more pain than pleasure. You hadn’t realized that your hands had moved to act as a buffer between his thighs and your legs. Habit, you supposed.

“______,” he spoke forcefully. You realized your mistake.

“’m...sor...ry…” your speech was broken from the continuous thrusting. Your hands moved above your head. He threw your legs over his shoulders and leaned in closer to you. His pacing was becoming faster. You could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He was getting close. The thought of him cumming in you made your core burn. One of his hands began rubbing your sensitive bud. The stimulation was too much and you were creaming around his cock as you moaned out his name. Your walls fluttering around his cock was enough for him to reach his climax. Rope after rope of his seed filled your greedy hole. He was panting, something you can’t remember seeing before.

Your hand cupped his face. “I love you,” fell out of your mouth. Your eyes grew wide and a deep red crept across your cheeks. He smiled down at you.

“I know, my love.”

The two of you stayed still for a moment, except for his hips that continued to softly move against you. When he finally pulled out, a small whimper escaped your lips. He kissed your forehead.

Illumi carefully flipped you onto your side and spooned you. A strong arm caged your body against his, hand resting on your stomach. He kissed the back of your head.

“______, you fought the good fight. But you will not be able to overcome it. When you wake up tomorrow, all the pain of your previous life will be gone. Not even a distant memory. You will never have to relive those moments ever again. From now on, it will just be you, me, and the family that we create. Now it’s time to sleep, my love. You’ve had a busy day.”

Tears started trickling down your face. Your eyes grew heavy with sleep. It was indeed a busy day. Sadness overcame you, but you couldn't be sure why. You had just married the love of your life.

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: ii

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii (epilogue)

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @firein-thesky​​

word count: ~15.2k

Healing takes time, but it’s easier with someone else around who’s on the mend with you. 

(You and Keigo learn to start living again.)

warnings: codependency but make it sexc, injured reader, post-trauma symptoms, reader has abandonment issues, angst, ouchies <3

a/n: part 2 :’^) we made it!! soft hurt and very horny codependency that involves keigo’s immaculate d*ck. all that is left after this is part 3 which will be more of an epilogue :’^) 

enjoy loves <3

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The doors to exit the hospital scare you.

How can they not?

They’re... automatic.

The glass panes are wide, sliding and slapping as folks come and go, the quiet ring of metal on metal and the slap of the plastic padding makes your heart race.

Get over it, get over it, get over it—

It’s just some doors, they’re normal.

You’ve walked through automatic doors so many times. Never before had you even taken conscious note of them. 

(But that was before you heard them let in that man who—)

Without thinking, you take a little, tentative step back from them. 

Consider you are leaving your own slice of healing hell; you are shakier and sweatier than you would’ve liked. Your clothes are like the ones... he used to wear, cheap garments obviously pulled from some industrial multipack that stank like plastic and rubbing alcohol.

You hate it.

But you didn’t have another choice. Your old articles were bloodied and disposed of long ago, and the hospital gowns you wore during your stay were far more uncomfortable than your scratchy, wide pants and crewneck long sleeve the same pale, lifeless blue as your old bed sheets. 

It would be enough.

You shift the crutch under your right arm and shuffle the backpack on your shoulders. It contains just enough to get you to the shelter, where they’d supposedly have a bed— a cot, more than likely. You had a toothbrush, some extra socks, and a prepaid card for a single, one-way train trip across the country and into the unknown.

Tears stung your eyes as you lingered by the doors.

It all feels so uncomfortably real. The world kept moving, and you’re reentering it far-more battered and perpetually bruised. 

And completely alone.

(The thought horrifies you to your core, but you try to ignore it.)

Despite the time you spent at the hospital, you were leaving without a hint of reverie. Everyone, nurses and doctors and anyone who has fucking eyes is too busy dealing with the casualties that had lasted months. 

It didn’t matter how long you stayed. You were just a body. A fucked up one too. 

You count yourself lucky to even have the backpack, as cheap and sterile as it smells.

It all unnerves you, but you didn’t have a choice. Numbness settles over you as you accept your future. 

There... is a little glimmer that he will show up.

(He won’t. Empty promises.)

(Everyone leaves.)

(Why’d you call him, anyway?)

(Because no one had spoken to you like a human in a month.)

Solitude makes people desperate and crazy.

You are a little crazy, you know. Maybe not in a bad way, but certainly in a way that is eating you up and out in ways you don’t understand. You don’t have the energy sort through it all. You just have to finally start moving forward. Or try to. 

Tentatively, you walk toward the doors, stepping out and onto the pavement. You lurch and you would’ve tripped if not for the crutch shoved under your arm. 

For the first time in a long time, you suck in fresh air and the trickling sunlight. It feels fresh, cleansing you with each little inhale as you face your cheeks to sky. You have your moment, basking before your journey.

Then someone whistles. You ignore it at first.

The person whistles again, calling out— 

“Your ride’s here, starshine!”

Your breath punches from your lungs. You whip your head to the sound. 

Though it’s overcast, you do see your morning sun.

Your steps stutter as you nearly trip over your feet.

He is standing, not far at all, leaning against a shiny black car, sleek and expensive and out of place. He’s all overgrown hair and lazy-expressions, one which stretches into a grin as he sees you.

And you see him.

(He really came?)

(Of course he did.)

Your crutch nearly clatters to the ground as you stumble toward him. The moment you waver, he’s running to catch you.

You meet each other halfway.

And without a goddamn lick of shame, the moment you near him, your arms lock around him. Your face buries into the hollow of his throw and you inhale. The scent of him, a bit spiced but mostly skin and sweat fills you. Not a hint of antiseptic. 

 And you shudder at how good it feels. 

He stabilizes the two of you, greedily wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing as if to give a much-needed greeting. 

There’s a moment of heat between you, familiar and blessed and so damned missed that you both share shuddering breaths. 

“It’s good to see you, starshine,” He soaks up any part of you he could get to. So casually, he touches like he wants to consume you.

You squeeze him just as hard.

“You came?” Your words muffled into his skin.

He simply nods, and the only confirmation you need to sink into him. Perhaps, there’s onlookers, but neither of you have the mind to care. All you care about is the shift of his muscles beneath your fingertips, the heat of him, his golden, pretty visage—

Like he had so many times, he tucks hair behind your ears and tension drains from him. 

So tenderly does he squeeze around your middle where he holds you up, “Let’s go home, starshine.”

You want nothing more.

...

The drive to your new home is long, but you don’t mind.

The world has changed in the months you’d been tucked away in the forest-hidden hospital. As disconnected as you were, you still heard of the unrest and upheaval across the country. The political clashes are marked by the... contrarian billboards lining the highway, new slogans battling each other every mile or so. 

The scenery slowly goes from flatlands, to wetlands, to rolling hills that are a lush green. From the safety of the car, you could see that the air even looked wet, and you could imagine the way it would stick in your throat and tacky the tips of your fingers. 

“Where do you live?” You finally ask, voice soft in the melancholy softness of the light mist that sprayed the car.

“In the mountains, high-up,” He squeezes your hand (the one he’s been holding the whole ride). Quietly, he adds. “I still couldn’t bear to be too close to the ground.”

He laughs, though it fades into the suddenly heavy air.

This is the world, isn’t it?

You blink, gulping at the face of your reality, and let your eyes go half-lidded as you trace the shapes of growing evergreen as your drive takes you higher and higher. 

...

Keigo had made up the guest room for you.

He doesn’t have much for extra sheets and softness, let alone decor, but he does what he can. The bed is made and pressed with clean lines, freshly washed. The curtains on the windows hang heavy, but warm up the room with their clement, tan fibers. It’s a start, with lots of space for you to add your own touches as well.

He’d spent the night prior on it, laboring, like he was preparing a nest as opposed to a simple bedroom.

(It is a nest, but he doesn’t need to accept that just yet.)

There wasn’t anything else to do for a while when he first escaped that fucking hell. He’d really given up. Keigo was uncomfortably content to rot away as he had dreamed of since he’d been burnt. The little, dusty corners of the cabin would’ve made perfect places to waste away in peace and alone. 

Except, he didn’t.

Keigo started to make the home better.

He isn’t sure if it was out of some need to just do something, and the outdated, worn cabin was his most available canvas. Part of him is convinced it’s some buried avian instinct, and without the Commission’s constant hovering, he has no reason to suppress those more animalistic urges. The need to nest somewhere cozy and safe took him over, and he had gotten to work.

The cabin is cleaned up incredibly well. New appliances, floors patched and polished. The furniture is mostly old, but it’s obviously been shined and tended to. The living area isn’t horribly large, but it’s more than enough space for the two of you. It has wide windows that looked down upon the slopes and peaks that your home is nestled in. The colors are warm oranges and tans that are easy on the eye. Nothing too red and nothing too blue.

Nothing too imposing.

(Nothing too reminiscent.)

He leads you from the car, gingerly helping you up the rickety stairs to the front door. 

The wound on your leg may be ‘healed’, but you don’t appear comfortable in the slightest. Your expression pinches with half of your steps, the bending of your scarred flesh undoubtedly painful. It makes something in his chest squeeze as he navigates you into his house, from the snow into somewhere warm. A place that he crafted all on his own. Shaped with his own hands. A real possession, all his own. 

When you enter, you don’t say anything, only tightening your grip on his hand.

“I like it,” You smile, soft and dreamy, worrying the strap of your backpack. “... Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay?”

“Of course,” Keigo assures you. Of course, it was okay for you to stay. “I’m happy to have you here, especially when the other option is one of the shelters.”

You wouldn’t have lasted a day with your bum leg and natural softness.

The thought has him gulping, the heat flaring in his chest as he tugs you closer, ghosting his lips over your temple.

With only a bit of stumbling, he shows you the rest of the home.

...

You’re quiet the rest of the day, curled up on the couch in the same clothes you left the hospital in. There’s clear exhaustion in your face, from the dark circles ringing your eyes and the tremble in your hand and leg. Keigo is content to cover you in a nice knit blanket he purchased down in the nearby town, and let you rest.

His own back burns when he catches glimpses of your scar. It ran down all the way to your ankle, even bleeding onto the top of your foot. The gnarled flesh brings back memories of screaming and metallic exam rooms.

And he, like you, stares at a wall for a while before making dinner.

 You can’t manage much.

The TV glows with some show you might’ve watched and been engrossed in it.  But the hollow feeling in your chest keeps you submerged in the static of your skull. It’s more comfortable than acknowledging how quickly the picture moves in front of you.

Your only motion is a ‘light’ scratching over the thin fabric of your pants.

‘Light’.

He enters sometime later, bearing food and an easy smile that falls all-too quickly. 

“Hey, starshine— oh fuck,” His voice clips as he enters, setting down steaming plates on the coffee table and pulling your hand from your thigh. The tips of your fingers are stained with enough blood to make your eyebrows shoot up. 

Your eyes shoot to your leg, where you’d apparently tore through the thin fabric of your pants and torn your skin up without even thinking. So close to the scar—

Heat flares between, light bouncing in your eyes as you cover the hole, “S-sorry, fuck, I didn’t even realize.”

“It’s okay, it happens,” Keigo assures you, softer than you’ve ever heard him. “Let’s clean you up quick and then eat, okay?”

You nod, exhaling a weight from your chest as the light skitters out of your eyes. 

And the heat fades from the room. The absence of it chills Keigo, and the abruptness makes his nose scrunch. 

He patches you up quickly and with a precision that screams ‘yes, I have done this far too many times.’ The wound isn’t too severe, just a nasty-looking scratch. The dried blood on your finger is wiped away. 

You both settle onto the couch, eating in silence.

Something hangs in the air, thick and unsaid. Questions and paragraphs that have been ignored up until now. Not out of will, perhaps just tired negligence. 

But, Keigo has always been the blunt type, so he finally asks one of the many facets that needs to be broached. 

“What’s your quirk?”

A little surprised sound lodges in your throat with a bite of baked fish, “My quirk? I thought you figured it out already.”

Keigo raises a feathery eyebrow, “I’m a bit slow these days, starshine.”

The nickname makes something settle pleasantly under your ribs, and the light, little orbs of yellow and orange return to your eyes. 

And heat fills the room, like it had so many times before. Like those first nights in the common room, stargazing in the lamp and starlight. It’s warmth that bleeds between his bones and tendons, through and through.

Keigo puts it all together, jaw going slack and eyes going wide.

Had he never realized it?

It does make sense, in retrospect and without a sinfully heavy dose of painkillers swimming in his veins. The heat that permeated all of the nights you sat, eyeing the stars and each other.

The odd heat of it all. 

You’d been warming the two of you. Souls cold from the sterility of it all. 

“That’s your quirk?” Keigo leans in closer, inspecting the little specks of light in your irises. The tell. “This whole time?”

“U-um, yeah,” You worry a hangnail. “I don’t mean for it to be activating all over the place, but it has been since everything happened.”

“Why’s that?”

You chew the plump of your bottom lip, brows pinched.

Without thinking, Keigo bows to the will of the ever-present, needy feeling in his chest and presses a little kiss to your forehead, willing it to smooth away some of your worry. 

I’m not upset, the action says, but the cabin is quiet.

“... You know how cats purr?”

Keigo quirks an eyebrow, “I do.”

“Well, I think it’s kind of like that,” You met his eyes, the light returning and the fire-like warmth tickling the hair on your arms. “Cats purr when they feel good, but sometimes, they purr when they’re not doing well.”

“... ‘Not doing well’?”

“If they’re in pain, or if they’re really scared,” You go quiet, tracing a seam on Keigo’s jeans. “They’ll purr to comfort themselves. It’s like that.”

Comfort themselves.

No wonder all those nights you spent together, you felt so warm. It was your quirk— 

And you must’ve felt awful. 

Part of him feels betrayed, just for a moment, before it dissolves with the watery look you wear as your injured finger traces over his knuckles. 

And the heat of you flares. 

Your quirk is a part of you.

“I didn’t think to tell you.” Your voice wobbles, yet remains vacant. “‘M sorry.”

You don’t need to apologize.

If anything, the knowledge only strengthens Keigo’s resolve. 

...

The first weeks at the house are odd as you both settle into rhythms of living. There’s an orbit to how you choose to live, though it’s not predictable or reliable. It can’t be, there’s no way for it to be. You float around each other like little planets to a fickle sun, unstable and wavering, but elliptical, nonetheless. 

You’re both learning to be human again with your own rhythms.

Keigo’s biggest challenge is dragging himself from bed each morning. The lazy bones he thought the Commission had broken and beaten out of him still remain somehow. Now that he has no obligations to tend to at the break of dawn, he thoroughly enjoys lazing about in the sheets, even if he’s just staring at his wood-paneled ceiling wishing that Dabi had finished the job and burned him dead.

He’s doing great.

Despite his sluggishness, you move about on your own. 

You make coffee each morning, and curl up on the couch under the same knit blanket. A few patches of the multi-colored throw have been pulled apart by your restless hands. 

Neither of you comment on it.

Though Keigo takes longer to rise, you move far less during the day during those first weeks. You’re tethered to the cushion until the sun goes down.

It’s like the nylon straps at the hospital never left your wrists.

Your vacant nature scares him, if he’s honest. There’s an unspoken, massive wound you carry with you, both physically and mentally, and its manifestation is a little haunting. 

Keigo knows about trauma, knows about how the mind worked and how to, you know, deal with it. He is— was, a hero, for fuck’s sake. Trauma is in the job description and he’d had his fair share of bruises before he went undercover, before he killed Jin (REALLY don’t think about it—), and lost his wings. He’s stitched himself up by filling up his schedule with anything he could. Distractions. Things to occupy him, help him forget for a while. If that didn’t work, he always had a bottle or two of imported soju that he could nurse.

Again, coping.

The state you’re in is the opposite of coping, it’s being. Existing. The strain you carry from everything shows in you, and the way that it’s manifested terrifies him.

Keigo is smart enough to know to keep a few boundaries. He can’t fix you and he can’t get it in his head that he can. He’ll smother you; he knows he will. The solace he finds comes from being there when you need him, and always being close by. 

It’s all he can do to soothe what’s obviously an open wound. He has his own, that you tend to in your own way as well when you can. It’s all give-and-take, naturally and easily. 

You’ll find yourselves on the couch together, leaning and touching so naturally, but with no intent. Your little fingers trace shapes over his clothes, hearts and lettering he can’t catch. The heat of you will cling to him, whether your quirk activates or not.

He holds you, simply and truly. Tries to be a new, kinder being. 

...

You don’t have much that is solely yours. 

You’d been living in an odd combination of Keigo’s clothes and the single outfit you arrived with. It works, enough. Most garments are worn until they’re filthy, but it takes you a little too long to notice. 

Keigo notices.

One day, he sits down with you and his heavy, black credit card and helps you pick out... whatever you wanted. The guy is loaded and will be until he dies, and he’s smitten to help you pick out whatever you need. 

You’re more challenged by the task.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to do this,” you murmur into his collarbones, narrowing your eyes at the laptop screen. “I have enough.”

Keigo clicks his tongue, rubbing the fraying fabric of your shirt, the same, cheap scratchy fabric from the hospital. Your pants are soft cotton, old ones of Keigo’s that he should probably throw away. You adore them, and spend most of your time in them, too.

“You deserve some nice things that are yours, don’t you think?” He coaxes with some extra soft touches as you glare at the screen.

Perhaps, you think to yourself. Your jaw locks.

You deliberately avoided thinking about your lack of... things. The absence of all the bits of you that you had once carried tugs at something deep in your chest. Grief, probably. Loss at the very least. Your home has been torn apart and you have nothing. Not a single remnant of then except you. And you’re hardly a good cast of the existence you once lead. 

The world feels dimmer with the thought. 

...

The house gets cold at night.

It’s inevitable, with the chill of the snowy valleys and peaks slipping through drafty windows and cracks in the woodwork. It slunk into the house once the stars rose, sinking bone deep. It’s easier to ward off during the day. The little stray touches and the ambiance of shared presence helps. 

But, you slept separately. 

It’s cold— so fucking cold in your beds. Keigo hates it. Despises the way how it makes his eyes droop and his body heavier than it should be. Despite not having wings any longer, his other avian traits lingered, and torpor was definitely not in his top three faves. He can only be thankful that he thought to invest in an electric blanket for himself, for his nest.

Though it would be a lot better with you in it, the last thing he wants to do is push you. You’re fragile. Everything is fragile. Keigo has laid awake on more than one night, trying to make sense of all of it, everything and coming to the conclusion that sleeping in his too-big, too-cold bed would have to do.

Sometimes, there’s no way to swallow the state of things.

...

“Your packages are here.”

You look up, eyes wide and sweet.

Oh, yeah. Material goods.

Clothes.

Objects.

It takes a while, but the result of your shopping spree is a small horde of packages down at the town post office, all with your name attached. The idea of so much newness is daunting, but your few remaining garments are threadbare and practically falling apart. It’s necessary, you acknowledge, even if you’re terrified of not living in Keigo’s worn crewneck. 

(Change can be good, you remind yourself. The thought is quiet.) 

Keigo stands by the door, buttoning up his coat and lacing up his boots as you watch from your soft perch on the couch. The blanket has a new, wide hole picked in it, but you don’t notice. 

“Would you like to come with me and pick them up?” Keigo flicks his gaze to you with a careful, easy smile.

You hadn’t left the house since you’d arrived. 

The thought sends your stomach knotting and sweat gathering in your palms. You jerk your head side to side, sinking back down into the cushions.

Keigo doesn’t hold it against you. You can tell by the way his expression softens around his eyes. 

He leaves after kissing you on the forehead a few times, telling you he’ll be quick to return. It’s not often that he leaves, though he’s always timely on coming back. His excursions are never more than a trip to the town market, thankfully. An hour or two feels like a lot, but the too-still air and quiet of the floorboards without Keigo’s pacing unsettles you.

Not having him near unsettles you. The thought of having him gone for too long shoots something hot and needy in your chest.

(Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave—)

Thankfully, just like always, Keigo isn’t gone for long. And he returns bearing a few armloads of packages and some takeout curry. You take it all, and him, greedily. 

(Thank you, thank you, thank you.)

...

It’s a few days later when Keigo wakes to you knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning. 

It had been a... rougher day. You had been a bit livelier early on, joining him on the snowy patio for morning coffee and even taking a quick walk around the neighboring forest. With the snow so deep, you could only go so far though. The motion of it aggravated your injury, left your gasping and clawing at Keigo’s arm as the scar tissue pulled.

The scar is still dead, thank god, but the impact is just as present physically as it is mentally for you.

The rest of the day you spent curled up on the couch, taking little sips of water between short naps. That night, you hardly touched your dinner. Keigo was smart enough to cut up some fruit and lay it with a handful of crackers and offer it to you throughout the rest of the night. You nibbled at the bits, but hardly consumed much at all.

You went to bed early, giving him a hard hug before retiring to your lonely room.

Those days are the worse, the bad ones. They’re the ones where Keigo wants to break all the boundaries he still has. The little touches and kisses he gives you are one thing, but there’s much more he wants to do. Craves doing. But, pushing you too far or too hard would break you. He’s smart. He knows that. So, Keigo doesn’t wait. He satiates all those protective needs. 

He accepts circumstance, just as he always has. 

(He doesn’t understand how much you crave him, but that’ll come later.)

             That night, things begin to shift. 

His voice cracks with sleep as he calls for you to enter. You linger in the door frame, clutching a pillow to your chest, like a scared child who’s had a— 

“Nightmare?” He asks, sitting up and tugging a blanket with him to cover his bare chest. 

The cold air of the cabin hits his scars. He hisses under his breath, shoulders drawing tense. You must notice, eyes going a little wider as you recede from his room. The darkness of the hallway nearly dissolves you. His chest aches, hands tightening around the fabric in his fists. 

“Come back here, starshine, come on,” Keigo calls, praying you’ll heed him. “It’s alright. What’s wrong?” 

Keigo half-recognizes that that’s a very loaded question, but you’re both a bit sleep addled. Maybe it will slide. 

Your eyes alight in the pitch of the room, sputtering with little orbs of amber. Your atrophying arms squeeze the pillow, and you take a few more tentative steps closer. 

“... We’re safe, right?” 

The question surprises Keigo, enough to make his old wounds ache.

One loaded question answered for another.  

It’s reasonable to ask. It’s very reasonable to ponder. Keigo has wondered about it too. The townsfolk don’t know who he really was, and he was quite secretive about the initial move. The world hadn’t caught onto the fact that ‘Hawks’ had moved him and his new love to an isolated little cabin in the woods, and hopefully they never would. Society had a lot bigger problems, according to the over-processed news channel he tuned into on occasion. 

Keigo was old news at this point.

So many heroes had been called out for poor behavior. Scandal after scandal, coverup after coverup. Corruption, everywhere. It was an industry secret, all of the bullshit behind closed doors.  Keigo’s little double-agent schtick and you know, murder of a good man (for the love of god, do not fucking think about Jin) was still bad, but the public had a whole new slew of bullshit to torch people at the stake for.

Still. 

He’s glad no one knows about your little hideaway or you.

“We’re safe, starshine. Very safe.”’

It makes his answer easier to say, more honest. 

You inch closer from the doorway. There’s a tremble in your shoulders that runs to your hands. You’re only wearing a t-shirt and thin shorts, maybe just panties, he can’t tell. Your scar runs down your thigh and calf, gnarling and twisting the flesh it dared to mar. The seam of it is a shining black that Keigo had failed to notice before. 

It reminds him of why you’re so scared and the types of nightmares you must have. 

“... Promise?” You stop at the foot of the bed, throat bobbing with a thick gulp.

Keigo gives a sympathetic smile, patting the sheets next to him, “I promise. You’re safe. We’re safe.”

You look skeptical, but climb into bed with him all the same. 

Something stirs in Keigo’s chest as you do. As he watches you clamor over the sheets and blankets he... nests in, the heat of it fills him. A combination of yours and his own, spills through his ribs and down to his toes.

He shudders with it, something needy wriggling down from

You sit up on your knees, sinking into the mattress and holding the pillow tight to your chest. Watching, eyes still alight and wide.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keigo asks.

You don’t, you both know that, but breaking the silence is a start.

You push the pillow against the headboard, trading it to link your fingers with his, over his chest and pressed to the linens. 

You squeeze and let out a breath you’ve been holding. There’s a weight to it, like there’s something you’re actually carrying. There has been something you have been carrying, but only you are able to see it— feel it in its actuality.

But, that doesn’t mean you have to shoulder the burden alone, especially on darkened, lonely nights. 

He tugs you closer, mindful of your tenderness and the scars you both bear. The night is only lit by starlight, and the room is dark with the new moon. It makes it easier to be closer as you settled into the bedding next to him.

It’s uncomfortable for a few moments.

Despite how much contact you share, this feels different. The little touches, kisses and caresses you trade throughout the day are second nature. Comforting someone else who so obviously needs it. His person who needs it. 

(He wonders if you think of him as your ‘person’ too.)

You lay on your side, facing away from him as you fall into his nest, still tense, still on edge and unsure. It reminds him of those first days at the hospital, when you both had lost your tongues and yourselves and just enjoyed the stars together in oddly comforting silence and broken conversation. 

It’s a process, he reminds himself. 

Keigo slides closer, throwing an arm over waist and adjusting the blankets with his other. There’s plenty, piled on top of each other without much reason. Careful hands properly tuck you into it all, next to him, with him. He brings them up to your chin, pressing stray hairs back into place and laying a trailing kiss or two over the back of your neck. 

“... Is it okay if I stay?” Your voice sounds far-off, like the question is more for yourself than for him. 

He can feel the unease and fear still bound up in your shoulders. It’s always there, whether it’s a moonless night or a snow-glitteringly, sunny day. The tension he presses his thumbs into is held in all of the muscle of your back, in your hips, your hands— everywhere.

It makes part of him ache.

A few little coos, soft little rumbles, roll from the back of his throat. 

Normally, he’d be a bit embarrassed. But at the birdish chirps, you’re falling deeper in the sheets, the nest, and against his chest. 

“Please stay,” He assures you with a squeeze. A small comfort, one he’d keep giving. 

 The odd quiet returns, sans the little sounds in his chest. 

Slowly, tentatively, you turn in his arms. Your own lock over his waist, splayed low on his spine. The pads of your fingertips brush scars, the old ones and the new. It makes him writhe a bit in his own skin. It’s unfamiliar, compared to all of the cold prodding and meaningless pleasure he was used to.

It is the closest anyone of familiarity has been to the scars in a long time, and you, preciously, grace him with the softest touch. No expectation in it, just some much-needed, shared bits of love. Once again, precious. 

And you both relax into it all. The ambient thrum of the other's body, the shared breath and smells that mingle between you. There’s little pains and stings that never really go away, but with the other so close, neither of you mind. 

It’s hard to tell when your quirk settles, and the organic heat you create together fills the rooms and your lungs. 

All Keigo knows is that he falls asleep with your lips brushing the hollow of his throat, still and warm against his chest. The feeling of the living rhythm of your body with your breath lulls him off, content and hazy. 

...

You never sleep alone after that night.

Keigo pulls you into his room, or you pad in after brushing your teeth and pulling on your soft, soft sleep clothes. The bed feels a lot less big and lonely with the two of you wrapped up in each other, fully giving in.

It puts Keigo at a remarkable amount of ease. 

The urge in his chest to ‘keep you safe’ feels the most sated at night, when he can keep as close as you both can bear. Your hands always make their home at the base of his spine, or the fat and flesh between his lower back and his rear. The pads of your fingers rub away years of stored tension and weight, quietly and kindly before you fall asleep each night. 

During the day, you’re equally as needy, though you’re slowly becoming a bit more independent. You’re more lucid in general. Though the couch and worn blanket are your greatest comforts (other than him), you’re beginning to stray and poke around the house a bit more. 

The shelves have a few more familiar comforts, things Keigo had slowly accumulated to pass the time. There’s a video game console or two he’d never used, a few stacks of books he’d heard were good, and some tucked away art supplies if inspiration struck. 

As much as he urges you to take and use whatever you’d like, you’re still tentative. The first few times you pluck a crisp book from the shelf, Keigo’s back aches with how the old muscles that once controlled his wings tried to puff-up non-existent feathers. Despite how it tugs at all the wrong parts of him, he still glows at the progress.

You start to help him with dinner too. That’s some of your favorite time. 

There’s a rhythm to it, when you both start preparing meals together. Keigo can’t season food for shit, (though, he’s made leaps and strides with cooking that pats himself on the back for) but he’s quite skilled with a knife. Remnants of his training that have domestic applications. 

He doesn’t tell you that that’s why he’s so good at dicing vegetables and paring meat, he just chatters to fill the air. You tend more to the process of cooking, seasoning and watching and nodding along to his words. 

The more meals you share in creating, the more you start to speak up.  

It’s progress, even in something so small. 

...

But progress isn’t linear. 

It’s not even a goddamn line and it’s fucking infuriating. 

...

The depth of winter bears down on the hills, the house, and the two of you. You’re coping, both of you. But the momentum of it is fragile.

It scares you, secretly and privately. 

You feel fragile, and you have for a long time. Your scar remains tender, gnarled and ugly on your leg. You avoid looking at it at all cost, though Keigo has free reign to graze tender touch nearby it. 

That’s how you find yourselves, leaning on each other on the cushion of the couch and idly watching the glow of the television. Your cheek tucks over his shoulder and you watch with half-lidded eyes. You’re only half-there as Keigo changes the channel.

He hums after a few moments. 

“There’s a storm coming tonight,” Keigo tells you, lips just a touch dry against the shell of your ear. “I’m going to go to town and—”

 Oh wow.

You interrupt, fisting the front of his shirt, “Can I come?”

The question stuns both of you.

Your eyes are honest as you peer up, genuinely unsure if you can.

“Of course, starshine,” Keigo assures. You notice the way his eyes, his pretty eyes, look wide and bright. All for you. Wow. “Let’s get you out of the house, hm?”

Getting out.

Time has stretched out and you can’t remember the last time you left for anything more than a little stroll on the backroads, Keigo on your arm. Going to town and seeing people strikes something odd that has your stomach churning. 

You’re nervous when you finally pile into the car, both bundled up with hats, mittens and scarfs (Keigo wears a mask to better hide his identity, but he’s sure some of the townies have figured him out.) The tasks are simple. Stock up for the coming storm and make sure he pays to plow their little backroad out once the storm passes. Easy, things that wouldn’t take too long, but it still makes your palms sweat. 

Keigo massages your thigh as you drive into town. The comfort of the snowy hills and evergreens disappears, and it has you in goddamn knots. 

You squeeze his hand, locking your jaw. 

“I’m scared.” You break the silence as the small structures of the town come into view. “I don’t know if this was a good idea.”

You haven’t decided again. 

He kneads his thumb into the tension in your thighs with a little smile, “Let’s give it a try.”

“It’s scary, though.”

“I know.”

You pull at a hangnail with your teeth but say nothing else as you roll in and park at the small market.

The first thing you notice is the goddamn doors. Automatic doors.

When you see them, you want to climb back into the car, maybe the trunk for fuck’s sake, and hide like you’ve never hidden before. Go home and bury yourself in a snow pile with how your heart hammers in your chest and your breath catches.

Deep breaths.

You catch yourself, just a little. 

You keep walking, Keigo’s hand in yours and you enter the market like nothing feels as wrong as it is.  

The store is small, but there’s a decent selection, all things given. Keigo places a basket in your hands, tells you to ‘go nuts’ and ‘literally get whatever you want, especially if it’s salty or sweet’ and you heed him the best you can. He busies himself talking to the clerk, organizing with that honey-voice you crave. 

You take a few deep breaths and walk around the market like a normal person. 

(Even though, the last time you were in a situation close to this, you got that nasty, cute scar on your leg.)

(You suppress the thought for as long as you can.)

The basket gets filled quickly, but you stuff it to the brim. Keigo picked out plenty of good food, and had learned how to cook decently, but having some... agency felt nice, if not fucking terrifying.

You’ve got your back turned to the entrance of the store when the (automatic) doors suddenly swish open. 

A chill so cold and hard shoots down your spine and you freeze, hovering over a box of breadcrumbs.

One...

 How long was it between that sound and when he touched you?

 Two...

 This was a terrible idea.

 Three—

 It was four—

 Four—

Four seconds, you propose, as your heart beats out of your chest and you sweat under your arms. Four seconds from the door opening to pain. 

You wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Nothing.

Just more voices from the front of the store, a figure entering your aisle and then leaving.

You hate the way you're so rigid, tense enough in your shoulders for it to hurt. The ghost of the wound on your leg makes you want to fall to the ground and writhe, but you grab the box of breadcrumbs and try not to think. 

It works, and you land next to Keigo, presenting your filled basket to be rung up. 

You bury your face into his shoulder and take a deep inhale. Keigo keeps you close, tucked in your side with an arm around your waist. Your anxiety must’ve been quite visible, as he takes to quietly rubbing your shoulders over your sweater.

Things get hazy as you feel safer. Keigo laughs and sways the two of you as he speaks to the clerk. 

(Her sons are going to blow your little house out when the storm passes. The family cat recently got out and came back pregnant. Her husband has been reading some odd literature he found on the internet. Something about ‘the strong triumphant over the weak’. Her daughter might be able to return from her foreign university now that the travel restrictions had been lifted.)

Everything moves forward, even if it’s unpleasant.

It’s an awful reminder at an inopportune time. 

You watch your feet as you crunch your way back to the shotgun side of the car, only relaxing when you hear the doors lock and the engine thrum.

...

The storm comes, just as the faces on TV said it would.

You’re in the country, in the hills and mountains where the weather is already turbulent and changeable. All the same, the overcast skies dump snow over the land and blanket the world in quiet and cold.

Snow silence sucks the sounds from the air, sans the howl of angry wind. 

You’re tucked away and safe. It’s Keigo’s only solace.

After going into town, you keep more to yourself as the storm takes it sweet time rolling in. He recognizes the far off look in your eyes; it’s the one you wore stargazing, but there’s no kind smile on your face. Just a thoughtless frown as you go through the motions of your day.

It makes his chest ache.

(Part of him regrets bringing you with him to the market. It rots part of him, and he can only hope it sprouts again.) 

Finally, when the storm truly comes and the hills get heavy and crisp white, a bit more of you returns. Keigo wants to take the fragments you’re willing to give him and tuck them close, horde them and squeeze. The way he’s gotten abashedly greedy for you has him handsier and needier. 

He’ll take what he can get, and give what he can too.

It’s easiest to bear at night, probably out of habit. Maybe the time in the hospital fucked both of you up (yes, for sure, it did), but nighttime was the time where you were open and easy with each other.

The storm gives the perfect opportunity to all of your time shamelessly twisted together, only leaving for brief coffee breaks and light meals. Otherwise, you’re both nested. 

Pillows and blankets piled on the oversized mattress, all soft against your scars and old scratches. Keigo’s still fond of the color red, he can’t let that go, but he trades in the scarlet that was once his ‘brand’ for a deeper burgundy. All the sensations are rich and velvety, whether it’s the bedclothes you’re wrapped in or the touches you share.

It feels safe.

The feeling is something almost foreign to Keigo. He’s been getting used to it, even as the isolation weighs down on him. No one around means no reason to be so alert. The house isn’t bugged, there’s no villains or Suits watching his every move. He’s just a flightless bird, with no cage, but no captors either.

It feels amazing.

It feels even better that you’re always the heat against his side. That you and your perfect, sweet hands always know how and where to touch. Your words flow easier when you’re so close, so surrounded and so deliciously suffocated.

Keigo fills you up in all the best ways, and you’re finally able to breathe easier.

You tell him your secrets, little stargazing facts and facets of you that you’d held away and far from him before.

“Do you know what cosmic microwave background radiation is?” You ask, sweet as your lips nip at his jaw.

“No, not a clue,” He laughs, the giggle only you get to hear. 

You hum, shifting your thighs so it lies over his. Your hips grind, slow and unhurried as wind rattles the windows.

“It’s this ambient radiation that’s just everywhere, all the time, forever,” You tell him, voice going a little huskier despite the fact you’re talking about theoretical astrophysics. “It’s left over from the Big Bang. A little bit of the beginning that never stops.”

“And how do you know all this?” 

“A documentary, love.”

The questions fade as your lips slide together, lazy hands sliding into each other's hairs. You pull, only lightly, just to bring him closer. Keigo gets greedy, (again, always), licking into your mouth and tasting you. It’s all cheap coffee and the stale mint of toothpaste, and he drinks you down like the finest nectar. He sucks on your tongue, moaning at the way you keen and shift next to him.

It’s not enough. It never is, so he rolls to sit himself over your hips and grab your jaw in a tight grip. He can’t be too forceful, he can’t— his little birdbrain won’t let him do anything too rough to you, even if neither of you would mind it. He tilts your head just right.

You roll your hips up, breath mingling with his as it hitches and shudders from you. It’s so much, so much good, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. 

Keigo pulls away, eyes half-lidded to take in your own blown pupils. It makes something purr in his chest, to see your eyes already glassy and wide for him. Your neck is thoroughly covered in darkened splotches, already sucked and bitten while the storm sang. 

Little marks of him.

“You’re all mine, you know?” Keigo nearly moans at the way your expression goes gooey and sweetened. He tightens his grip on your jaw just a fraction, enough to make you gasp before he licks and nips below your ear. Just to make sure you hear him. “‘Everywhere, all the time, forever’, I’ve got you.”

“Y-you do,” you gasp as Keigo shifts your sleep shorts off, pushed away forgotten in the nest. The thin tank top you’re wearing is hardly covering anything, not that either of you care. The nearly-sheer fabric of it stretches over your collars and curves beautifully. It does nothing to hide the way your breaths heave or the sweat and heat gathering on your neck.

You’re bared to him.

And if Keigo’s being honest?

You own each other, in the most pleasantly fucked up way.

“Y-You’re so good,” The word holds weight, so much heaviness. Keigo groans, palming one of your breasts and rolling one of your nipples. It’s ambient, something to occupy himself as he resists your words. Just a little—

Your hand slips into the front of his sweats, bare beneath, and wraps around the velvet of him. Thick and hot, firm in your hand but not close enough.

You squeeze, almost in warning.

“You are good.” You gasp as Keigo pulls off you, leveling gazes with you, all pretty eyes reflecting the starshine and snow. He is good. There’s so much more to it than that, but your poor, fucked up little mind can’t synthesis it yet. Only that Keigo is good, warm, safe, and wholly yours. And you’re his. You stretch to ghost a kiss over his lips. “My good boy, always keeping me safe. You keep me so well.”

He stills, even as you slowly pump in his cock. It twitches in your hand, your thighs squeezing between his hips. 

Keigo’s mind races, in the best way.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He murmurs, head tilting and body sagging to drink down your kiss-bruised lips. More, more, more— “You just need to be taken care of.”

“I don’t need to,” You lie, huffing. 

Keigo raises an eyebrow, biting his lips as your grip floats down to his balls, massaging them in your soft grip. It’s tender, weirdly vulnerable, as the whole of you two are.

“Maybe you don’t need to, you’re very capable,” Maybe not right now, but he knows it’s in there. “But you want it.”

“I-I like it,” You scramble the wording, shoving down his sweats, huffing again and urging Keigo to kick them away. Your palm goes to his cheek and drags him closer. “I like you a lot, love you, you know. You make me feel... safe. It’s a good feeling.”

It’s the most honest you’ve been in a long time, and it sits in the air. Keigo remains silent for a moment, silent and trying to control the way his birdbrain wants to take you. Wants to fuck you up and ruin you for anyone else.

You’re his, aren’t you?

“Good girl,” Keigo breaks the tension, squeezing your hips to the point of bruises. His, his, his. “I keep you so good, don’t I?”

You nod, spitting out little affirmatives between kisses. They dot his cheeks and forehead, slipping to his nose and downward. You pull his bottom lip into his mouth, letting out a little half-sob as Keigo’s touch drifts to your cunt, to your clit that’s swollen and untouched. 

More, more, more—

“You keep me so good,” You gulp, whining and grinding into the heel of his hand. Slick coats your sex, sticky and hot. “So, so good—”

Keigo drops down the bed, ignoring the flare of his scar tissue, to seat himself between your thighs. They get thrown over his shoulders with a squeeze. His hands cup your ass, slipping a pillow beneath your hips before eating your cunt like he’d die if he didn’t.

It’s one of his favorite things. Stuffing you full of him until your belly swells is another, or seeing the way his cock opens and stretches you until you’re gasping for breath and begging for more, more, more—

Keigo slips a finger into you without resistance. He curls it, unyielding as he massages the little knot of nerves in you that makes you arch and beg for more, for him.

You choke on a sob when he adds another finger, and he hushes you so sweet, tears prick your eyes. 

“Starshine,” He coaxes, withdrawing only to give your clit, a few kitten licks and slow kisses. His gaze flickers towards yours, holding your wet eyes. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

You nod, the meat of your thighs squeezing around him. Keigo would be happy to die like this, you soft and opened for him, crying for him. Broken and cracking for him, by his tongue, by his touch, Him. His.

“Who takes care of you?” He curls his fingers, and you throw your head back into the nest of pillows. 

“Y-You,” Your voice breaks and you rub at your cheeks. 

“Who knows just how to keep you so well? How to make you feel so good?”

He presses a third finger in, tending to your clit as you cry above him. You’re molten around him, and he laps you up until the smell and taste of you is all he comprehends. 

This is what you both need, isn’t it?

Each other. All of each other.

Your cries turn sour quickly, and it has Keigo jolting up, fingers withdrawn and leaving you to feel empty. The little sobs turned into hiccupping cries, one's stifled with the back of your hand. 

Keigo rises over you, tugging you hand away to get at your cheeks, kissing them soft and sweet. 

It isn’t often that you cry, surprisingly. You probably should more often. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Keigo urges. Please, please, just tell him what the fuck is wrong. He knows, you know, the meat of it all. But please tell him something he can tend to. Something he can stitch up because god, he needs to be useful— “What’s making your cry sweetheart? Tell me.”

You paw at your forehead, “It’s silly.” 

You sniffle and look at him with the most unguarded expression he’s seen you worn. The vacancy is gone, the hollowness and pain has been pulled away in the safety of that perfect nest and all that’s left is—

“‘M scared,” You mumble. Your arms curl over your chest, covering what’s primitively most precious to you. “I’m scared.”

Your eyes grow bright and heat, hotter than anything he’s felt from you, explodes over the room.

He’s half-choking and he fucking loves it. 

Something in his chest snaps and he worries your hair, bringing his nose to yours, nuzzling and nudging your hands away. He nips you. His poor little birdbrain.

“I’m afraid you’re going to leave.”

Keigo stills.

He sits with your fear for a few beats.

“I’d never leave,” He says easily, truthfully and fully. He couldn’t.

Those long nights in the hospital and the warmth passed between you had so easily gotten you wormed his chest, right next to his second and third rib. He can feel it, always; you’re ever present. He grabs your arms and holds them to yours sides. You’re exposed, soft flesh and squirming a bit beneath him. He wants to mark you purple and near-bloody, so that no one would think of you as anything other than his.

His, his, his.

He shows you.

Worn hands, a bit chapped with the dry air, pull your high to rest on his shoulders. He massages your calves, kissing your ankles.

“I mean this real lovingly, starshine,” He breaths deep, fisting his cock with a few slow strokes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t get a chance to protest as he slides into you in one stroke. The stretch of him has you burning; he can tell by the way your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his shoulders as your little cries only get harder.

“Bear it, I know you can,” You had before, and you would many times more. The stretch feels amazing, even if it burns something in your core. You like it, how the pain pricks something that shoots into your toes. Only Keigo gets to fuck you up, gets to own you. “You’re always good f-for me— f-fuck, so fucking good—”

His, his, his.

There is, of course, the inverse.

You grab his jaw, your grip tight like his was earlier, and you meet his gaze. You blink away tears, sniffling, but expression set with determination.

“You’re mine too,” You squeeze around him, grinding down to the root of his cock. “‘M only good for you because you’re mine too, Keigo. All of you.”

Without thought, your hands ghost over his scars.

You have avoided them for so long. It was an untouched spot, something tender and from a time where Keigo was being that was entirely and wholly different from who he is now. It’s a piece of him that’s always been off-limits.

But you’re both so cracked open, you do it without thought.

And something in Keigo snaps.

He pushes you down by the backs of your thighs, folding your legs to your torso. And he fucks you.

His hips slam against yours, opening you up with pants and groans. You feel full, full of him in every and all ways, everywhere, always, and forever. 

You’re greedy with your touches, tugging him closer and uncaring of the way your nails scrap over his shoulders and arms. His body is yours and you’re his. It’s disgusting, it’s fucked up and perfect the way you slot together. It’s like little, scared pieces of existence slide together, and everything feels whole, yet open and uncracked.

Keigo fills you up with a sob, tears dripping down his cheeks as you pressed down on the burns and scars that rack down his back.

“Fill me up,” You demand, the heat of you swelling as his hand dips to your clit, circling and rolling with the little pleas falling from both your lips.

The world drips as his thrusts go harder, sloppier as you tip your head back and scream. Your voice breaks, hoarse from all your pleading and possession. 

Keigo stuffs you, tip of his cock pressed to the deepest parts of you. His cum, all him, leaks from around his cock as he gives a few more weakened grinds. He makes sure you’re full, content and sated and his.

He falls over you, coating your cheeks in kisses and praise. You sputter little sobs for him, begging for him to be closer, despite the way he still fills you even as he softens.

It never feels like enough, the closeness. But you’ll settle for all of him that you can get. 

...

The storm passes, and you spend your time much the same way. Fucking, feeling, and for a little, blessed while, forgetting.

Eventually, the snow stops falling. The wind that has been whipping the power into tree trucks and your windows falls still. It’s peaceful, then. Not that it wasn’t before, but without the weather bearing down on you, you’re both less hungry. Still greedy, just not starved.

You share the first morning after the storm outside, on the porch. Keigo had shoveled a little clear patch and you’d brushed off the two, brittle lawn chairs that had seen better days. You fixate on the task a bit too much, the steaming coffee you’re to share is forgotten. The straining plastic of the chairs is a yellowed-white and bright red. It felt strong enough under your fingers, cold fingers, as you cleared away the snow. 

It feels like a remnant

Whatever fixation you have on the object passes as Keigo runs a hand up your spine. His hand is wide and warm, still a bit warm from the toasty mugs.

You rearrange your chairs and yourselves to be close as can be, in your little patch of snowless porch, and sip at your coffee as the world begins to wake up. 

...

Oddly enough, the storm helps you make forward progress, at least a little. You take up making breakfasts on your own, occasionally carrying plates into the bedroom with a big, previously unseen grin

Keigo returns the smile so big, his cheeks burn for hours. 

You take to a few of the little crafts and things Keigo has been hoarding. Paper folding and little canvases with acrylic painting are your favorites. Sometimes, you paint your little strokes and press creases from the comfort of the couch. Other times, you make you place for the day at the kitchen island while Keigo makes his day-long meals. 

There’s a rhythm to it that’s so good.

It’s progress, and seeing it visibly start to the fill the walls feels good for both of you. Your little canvases get hung around the cabin, little portraits of the stars and their mother, all for you and Keigo to admire. ;;

 ...

             He gets the call exactly three weeks after the storm passes. 

Keigo awakes before you to the shrill ring of his cell. It vibrates against the bedside table, loud enough to wake the both of you. You both startle out of sleep, squeezing each other. 

He takes the call in the other room, after he sees the contact name.

[Suits] Calling...

 He paces as he listens to her drone on.

There’s no greeting, no “hey, how does it feel to be a flightless fucking failure?”. It’s business. Just business. It’s always been like that with her, and the lot of suits that treated him like a fixture until he got particularly cracked and unsightly.

“So, you come into Tokyo, we’ll do a small event—”

“The event you’re describing really doesn’t sound small,” Keigo tilts his head and gives an angry smile to his own reflection in the mirror. “It sounds like a circus that I really have no interest in being a part of.”

“It’s for the people, Hawks—”

It makes him snap.

“Stop fucking calling me that.” He growls into the receiver, grip tight enough to hurt. “Stop calling me, stop asking me, I am not coming back.”

The woman is silent on the line for a beat, before spitting, “What if I didn’t give you a choice?”

His blood runs cold before burning in his veins. And he laughs.

“You think you could?” He only feels a little hysterical. “You don’t have any power, not over me, not over anyone else as far as I’ve seen, Madam President!” 

“Hawks—”

Shut up, shut up, shut UP.

“The Commission is dead, the world is in chaos, and putting the corpse of a hero on the big screen isn’t going to convince anyone that this is all fixable,” Keigo chest gets tight, and he can’t tell if it’s from the uncomfortable laughter he’s spitting or the sobs that are locked in his chest. 

“So, you’d rather turn your back on the people you swore to protect?” Suits speaks with no emotion, not an ounce of feeling. “Selfish.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish. The word echoes in his mind, worms its way down his throat and suffocates him. 

“You’re really going to say that to me? Of all fucking people?” He feels his nails break skin where he’d been clenching his fist. “Me, selfish?”

“You left, didn’t you? Ran away?” The woman has the stones to fucking laugh. “Everyone’s lost something. You’re not special, and it doesn’t justify—”

“What the fuck are you getting out of this?” Keigo interrupts, burning, burning— “Did you call me to go to this little gala or did you call to dig into your perfect little hero? You told me I could be done. Should’ve known you were lying, you always lie—”

“You’re being childish.”

“Oh my GOD!” Keigo nearly screams and doesn’t notice how you’ve tip-toed from the bedroom. “Do you hear yourself?”

“I hear you screaming at me, the woman who practically raised you, like some petulant brat. Get a grip, Hawks.” 

He snaps.

“STOP FUCKING CALLING ME THAT!” He screams into the phone, vision going white and scarlet. “I am not Hawks! Hawks is DEAD! Why can’t you understand that? There’s no fucking hero to attend your little ‘healing’ gala, there’s just me. ‘Childish’, ‘selfish’, and wingless, babe. That’s what I’ve got, and this is what I am.”

Suits takes an audible sigh, and Keigo can almost see how she’s shaking her head at him, “You’re being ridiculous, Hawks. Take at least a goddamn ounce of responsibility for your actions that helped cause all... this.”

Ah, there it is. The thing Hawks has so properly compartmentalized, tucked so far back in his psyche that it’s almost impossible to reach.

How much of the dissolution of... everything is on him?

Something in him snaps, and it slips through his own fingers. 

  “I’m not going and this, Madam President? This is for me.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

He hears her unspoken words echoing in his skull as he hangs up, slamming the phone on the countertop.

Something hotter than rage and more poisonous than pain fills his blood, and it makes him want to both wretch and break his fingers in the same breath. He slams a fist onto the phone, cracking it against the countertop. He can buy a new one— 

“S-Sweetpea?”

Keigo freezes.

You’re at the mouth of the hallway, hardly out of the shadows, eyes wide and fearful. His chest somehow gets even tighter. 

Normally, he would’ve rushed to comfort you, calmed himself down to console you for seeing his little outburst.

But he doesn’t that day.

He breaths ragged with his lips slowly curling, panic’s ugly cousin turning his spit acrid behind his teeth.

“Here, let’s go back to bed, okay? We can—” You take a few steps closer, hand outstretched and eyes beginning to light.

Oh, and Keigo’s hit by fucking envy, and it’s over. 

“Don’t.” 

You freeze, “Pretty eyes—”

“Don’t, just don’t.”

You don’t move as Keigo trudges to the door, throws on his thick parka and snow boots, pocketing his keys and grumbles to you that there’s leftovers in the fridge.

It’s shitty and selfish.

And he just doesn’t care.

He can’t make himself care as the door slams shut behind him, the sound echoing off the trees and so quickly dampened by the snow. 

...

Keigo drives, white noise in his ear that echoes the wind in the treetops of the mountains he’s descending. He’s only half there as he leaves town. 

It’s still too much. 

...

You, on the other hand? 

You’re frozen, stuck-still, as you watch Keigo climb into the car and drive off. Maybe your mouth has gone a bit agape, you aren’t aware of your body. 

You panic. 

There’s no other word for it, not that you were able to think of as you were untrenched in it. 

There’s something thick and knotted that is rolling unraveling in your chest. The... thing is worse than a feeling and runs deeper and hotter than you can manage.

You tried to manage it.

While Keigo is god fucking knows where, you paced the house, always within eyeshot of a window. Hoping for a glimpse of his dark parka, or the tufts of his blonde sticking out in the snow, a return—

Fucking nothing.

He just left.

No return time, no destination, just a departure with no explanation. He’d obviously left the cabin before, you’d handled those times quite well, but he’d never stormed out. Never raised his voice and screamed and then just left. 

Is he okay? 

(You heard most of the call, at least his side of it. Is that awful Hero Commission he told you about calling him back? Or even worse, dragging him away.)

(He’d tell you, wouldn’t he?)

(Guess you’ll never know! Because he’s fucking gone.)

It made something seize in your chest, hot and awful as you walked your circuit, praying. Worry is damning. 

How could he just... leave?

You need him back.

You alone without him.

Your thoughts rot you, despite the winter’s cold outside. The chill of the cabin seeps into your bones, coats them and leaves you sticky and downright paranoid. The lack of... presence (his presence) was driving you up a wall. The air is too still, the floors quiet and without the telltale old creaks of movement that you’ve become accustomed to, and the cabin is silent other than your breathing and rabbit’s heart.

Beneath the anger was a thick layer of fear. 

You are alone.

The feeling rolled its way into you as the sun began to dip lower in the sky.

What if he never comes back?

Of course he is, you remind yourself, hurriedly, worrying the scary on your leg and picking at the core of it. He wouldn’t leave.

Why wouldn’t he?

The thought gets your poor little heart racing faster, air choking in your lungs. Your head whips to the window to see the empty, snowy driveway.

“I-I’m alone,” You break the silence of the house, the walls answering with their pensive quiet and the wind shaking the fresh snow from thin branches just outside.

All alone.

All fucked up and broken and fucking alone.

“He wouldn’t leave,” You start talking to yourself, threading a hand in your hair, gripping. “He cares, he wouldn’t just leave.”

He cared about being a hero too and he left everyone else.

What if things changed? 

Insecurities, new ones and old ones, cloud your mind and vision and stuffed your lungs. The grip on your hair goes tighter. 

All alone in the mountains.

All.

Alone.

It scares you more than anything, how much you need him.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you tug at the roots of your hair. It hurts, but everything is starting to hurt very quickly, and a bit of hair pulling is child’s play to how it feels like your chest is being hollowed out.

You really have so little. It stuns you in the moment as you choke back a sob. The little house in the mountains, Keigo, and the starlight you still both enjoy— that’s fucking it. You’d never returned to your ‘apartment’, or rather the remnants of it. Any possessions you had were lost to destruction and unsalvageable. Your meager relationships and friendships had fallen away when you were bound to hospital for months.

He’s all you have.

“No, no, no,” You nearly trip in your pacing, dragging your feet as you accept your reality. “He can’t l-leave.”

The world responds with silence. The mountains are cold and lonely, just like you are. It’s cruel, it all hurts and after being in a daze so often, the reality of your situation hurts like a hot brand.

He’ll come back.

He cares.

You desperately try to convince yourself as you tug your parka on, throwing on your boots. You don’t bother to fasten or tie anything, you just stumble onto the deck blindly and scan the hill of the drive.

Not a single soul.

Something rotten curls up behind your teeth. Bile climbs the back of your throat and you have to swallow to keep from vomiting. Your chest is too tight, the world is too bright, and you’re terrified.

You’re not sure what to call the type of panic response you have; it doesn’t make any logical sense. Your heart runs in your chest, your breath is hot and tight, and you simply slip to the ground in the fresh snow.

And you wait.

...

Keigo drives until he’s nearly out of town, into some flatlands near the river that gurgles and churns nearby. The surrounding forest is the perfect place for a pensive walk. 

It’s the best place for him to just get it out.

It had been a long time since Keigo had just talked to himself. Audibly sorts himself as he walks along the bank of the almost-frozen river. He doesn’t keep his voice quiet, no, its full volume complaining. It’s anger that’s bundled up in his chest that’s finally being lit and the smoke of it nearly chokes him out. 

It’s not fair.

He does feel a bit childish, thinking about it like that. But hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t they told him that he’d done enough? He lost it all and was just starting to the plant the seeds for a new life to sprout. Couldn’t he just have that? He’s not the shiny thing he used to be he’s fucking worthless. And that’s fine. He’s made peace with it and can find worth outside of saving people.

He’s capable. Adaptable. And he’s doing it all at his trademark speed.

But the thing that makes his gut twist is facing everything he (ran away from) left behind. The only short statement he’d given after Dabi’s video was nearly as viral as the actual video of him killing Jin (don’t think about it, don’t think about it—) 

He’s not sure what possesses him to pull out his phone and pull up the video. It’s not hard to find. 

It hurts to watch, but he does it anyway. Fucking masochist. 

He’s standing beside Enji and Tsunagu, all of them in hastily tailored suits. They all had their visible injuries. Scars and brands that had just been carved and burned into skin. They look haggard, they look beaten. 

Because they were.

Keigo watches as he adjusts his microphone in the video and gives his statement. Stupidly simple and vague, all at the same time.

“The villain Dabi did not lie. I am the son of Takami, and I killed Twice of the League of Villains. It was all necessary. Please accept my apology for the upset I have caused.”

His voice doesn’t even sound like him. It’s manufactured and broken. He remembers how the smoke had charred his throat and lungs for the first few days, before he was transferred from Central to the big facility in the tall-tree-ed forest. 

He bows on the video and Enji begins his statement. Something solemn about the suffering he’s caused his family, how he wants to atone and how he is atoning. The public was too angry to listen and is too angry to listen. And the world Keigo ran from is the result. 

He lets himself cry.

Finally.

His shoulders shake as he hunches over himself. The tears slip down his chilled cheeks and make little divots where they fall into the snow beneath him. His little gasps turn into sobs, the kind that hurt your chest and give you a headache that lasts for days.

He repeats a little mantra between scratchy breaths—

“I’m still good.”

“I’m still good.”

“I’m still good.”

He falls against the thick bark of a tree and slides down to the ground. 

He let’s go.

It’s good for him, cleansing. Maybe it’s the rushing of the nearby river or the snow he's buried his hands in, but with each ragged breath he can feel some of that filth that’s clinging to him fall away. Not all of it, not by a long shot. 

But feeling the worst is the first step to feeling your best. 

So, when Keigo’s ready, he stands and moves forward. Trudges onward, albeit a bit slower. 

...

Keigo returns home just as the sky begins to change from red to indigo with the night. It paints the pines and evergreens an eerie, dark color, shadows long and deep against the fluffy snow.

His gut twists in knots as he gets closer to home. 

He’s tired. Exhausted. His eyes are still puffy from his tears, sore and aching. His body still feels tight, tense in his shoulders and arms as he grips the steering wheel. He needs rest. A good cup of tea and maybe a beer later. 

And you.

As weak as Keigo feels, he knows he fucked up... just a bit. 

It wasn’t fair to storm out. He isn’t dumb. All the same, if he stayed with you in the cabin, he probably would’ve said something he regretted. Or locked himself in the bedroom all day. It wouldn’t have been good or fair for you or him. 

(Coward.)

Probably, but he was also burned alive fairly recently, so he had to give himself a bit of credit. 

As he nears, his stomach drops. 

You’re on the porch. You sit on the steps, parka pooling around your waist as your head rests on your knees.

Something’s not right.

Some of his old, honed senses trill to life, seeing you. Something in his gut twists, the muscles in his back tense, the old ones that controlled his wings. 

You must be cold. 

Keigo leaves the car and slaps on a smile, “Waiting for me, starshine?” 

You twitch, curling over your body harder. 

Something is very wrong— 

He calls your name, your actual name, and you hardly stir. You all but twitch from where you sit, head tilting up just the slightest bit.  It’s not enough to ease any of the worry pulling his old muscles, if anything, it makes it worse.

He falls to his knees in front of you, ignoring the crack his bones make.

“How long have you been out here?” Too long, he knows the answer, but he still has to ask.

“... A while,” You murmur, barely audible. “You’re back.”

“I am,“ Keigo pushes you up by your shoulders, scanning your face as more fear curls in his gut. 

Your eyes are glassy and unfocused.

“We need to get you inside, now,” He isn’t sure if he sounds scared or angry (probably both), and he can’t make himself care. 

You’re freezing.

Too cold, way too cold.

Keigo had to take plenty of survival courses during his training with the Commission and he had learned plenty about hypothermia. His avian anatomy made him more susceptible to the cold and knowing the symptoms for himself kept him from turning into a bird-adjacent popsicle more than once. He’d rescued his handful of civilians—

(Don’t think about being a hero right now or you’re gonna start crying again.)

You’re not some civilian, you’re you and you’re in front of him with darkened lips and dull eyes and full panic breaks his ribs.

...

You remember how pretty red the sky was.

You like sunsets. 

You should see if Keigo wants to watch the sunset sometime.

Keigo’s gone.

You could drive—

Keigo drove away. You’re alone.

You aren’t sure how long you sat in the chill, but it was comforting despite how your fingers and toes began to ache. Outside, there were plenty of sounds and sights to keep you company. The wind whistled through trees, and the sky echoed a few, far-off sounds from distant civilization. 

It was nice. Peaceful, at the very least.

...

“Inside, you need to be inside,” Keigo sputters, pulling you up under your arms. Your feet drag for a moment before going flat, and you sway in his arms. 

Getting you inside makes his body ache in new ways, your weight mostly on his side. Old pains crawled to the surface as he dragged you to the couch, setting you down on the cushion and assessing you better.

His hands run over your body, over curves and divots he knew and loved and the chill of you filled him with dread.

“Your pants are wet from the snow,” Keigo swallows, rising. “I’m going to grab you dry clothes.”

As soon as he tries to move away, you catch his wrist in a weak grip.

And finally, half-lucidly, you regard him with terror in your eyes.

“You l-left,” You spit, lips curling over your teeth. “You left, Keigo.”

You use his real name and he really wants to die a little. 

Sure, Suits used it on the phone with him and it made him see blood fucking red, but it’s you, and you saying the name he never really had, for the first time, so fucking angrily makes part of his secretly fragile heart break.

He freezes, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at you.

“I’m sorry,” He says softly. “Let me get you warm, then we can talk, okay?”

You don’t look convinced, tightening your grip on his wrist and pulling him closer.

Keigo gives in, so, so easily, dropping to his knees and pulling your icy hands into his. He rubs warmth into them, bringing them to his lips and breathing hot over your knuckles.

“Please, starshine. Let me get you warm.”

“I’m already warm,” Your voice slurs, entirely unconvincing.

“I say this very lovingly,” He says, somehow cracking a smile, “but you’re genuinely hypothermic. You can be as mad at me as you want, but you need to get warmed up.”

You chew your lip, cupping his cheeks with your freezing palms, “... You’re not leaving?”

Your voice drawls and Keigo makes a note to turn up the thermostat.

“No, god, no, I’m not,” He tries to assure you, shaking his head, but your grip only gets harsher. He placates you with a squeeze to your knee. “Please let me help.”

He can’t tell you how much he needs to. How hyper aware he is of your chill and of his own thumping heart. That protective urge in his chest wants to just pull you to his chest and wrap you up in him, in his heat, but that’s for later.

Your eyes' gaze goes softer, little specks of light bouncing between your irises. The room fills with blessed, familiar heat and Keigo can feel his shoulders slacken and some of the worry in his chest dissipate.

...

He returns with some of his own soft joggers, fleece-lined and well-loved. He grabbed a few layers, and an armful of blankets and pillows. Anything he could carry gets brought as his little, avian mind craves something he suppressed for years so well.

Nest, nest, nest.

Heat them first, then nest. 

He helps you slip into your new, dry clothes as your teeth begin to chatter. Thank fucking god. Keigo is smart enough to check your toes as he slips onto fuzzy, thermal socks, and they all look to be healthy and functioning. 

You’re quiet during the whole ordeal, save for soft breathing and snapping teeth. You occasionally grab his hand and hold it to whatever part of your skin was bared, mumbling something about how warm he is. 

Keigo eventually gets you settled and surrounded by blankets and pillows which you sink into, eyes hardly open. Only then does he feel like he can pull away enough to start the nearby fire.

It feels somewhat unnecessary, given you’re still heating the room. It’s probably somewhat for the atmosphere, considering the sky is nearly fully black. A bit of crackling flame and light would do you both good. 

(He rarely lights fire, but considering the flame is a kind red and not a fucking disgusting blue, he can bear it. Especially now.) 

When the fire is stoked, he turns back to you and deflates. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, all soft and half-lidded from the blankets. “That was... dumb.”

“It was.” 

Keigo can’t fight you on the obvious. 

There’s a goddamn list of questions he wants to ask you. ‘Why’s and ‘what’s, but he has a pretty good idea of why you were sitting outside and what you were thinking. 

He’s not sure you’d want to talk about it anyway. 

The couch creaks when he sits down a few feet from your little nest, running a tired hand over his face.

“... You know, this couch folds out,” You shift a little, slow and lethargic. Still cold. “We should sleep out here tonight.”

He turns to regards you, and it takes everything in him not to fucking break.

“Why?” His voice shakes and he knows you can tell.

You hum, leaning toward him, “Change of scenery. I think we could both use it.”

“Later.” Keigo agrees. The urge to wrap you up in his (wings) arms feels unbearable, the little avian tickings in his skull loud and needy. “Warm first. Futon later.”

You huff weakly, but lift the blankets to let Keigo slip behind you. His body curls around yours, finding the coldest parts of you and tending to them first. His hands clasp over yours and your feet get tucked between his calves. 

“Thanks,” You murmur, neutral and vacant.

Keigo doesn’t push you.

Instead, you stay tucked in his arms, still shivering, but significantly less cold. Your lips and cheeks look a far healthier color and they’re warm to the touch. He traces his fingertips over the curves of your face and neck, preening in the only way he can muster up.

You eventually break the silence, when the fire is all but embers.

“I heard some of that call…” Your voice trails off. “It sounded bad.”

“It was,” Keigo agrees with a little nod. He really doesn’t want to think about Suits and, you know, the rest of the world, but it feels necessary. “Very bad.”

“Who was it?”

“Old boss.”

“… And?”

Keigo sighs, squeezing you probably a little too tightly, “Why don’t we focus on warming you up from your hypothermic excursion and not my shitty life as a shitty hero—”

“You weren’t a shitty hero, Keigo,” He can hear the mourning in your voice and it makes him want to die, just a little. You cup his cheeks, eyes sad and soft around the edges. “You were a really good one.”

“Was I? News to me.” He laughs, the bitter sound tasting like bile. He hates it, the feel of it mixed with the heat and softness of you. It feels wrong. “I don’t want to talk about all that, starshine. Please just drop it.”

Your face hardens.

“No.”

“… No?”

“No, I’m not done,” You sigh, big and hard. “I think we’re more fucked up than we talk about, Keigo.”

He winces, but you keep going, and he doesn’t move to stop you.

“Probably.”

Your jaw sets like stone on stone. It makes him internally wince as your hands go to cup his cheeks.

“I’m fucked up, you’re fucked up, everything is fucked up. We can ignore it up here, quietly, but it’s true, isn’t it?”

Yes.

“Yeah.” He feels his gut roll, but he doesn’t stop you. His grip goes tighter on your hips. “You’re not wrong.”

“Can we just… Acknowledge it? Please.” You ask, beg, softly as you rub his cheeks with your thumbs. “Please, Keigo.”

He doesn’t know what to do at first. He really wants to lock up. Shut down. Lock all the nasty feelings in chest, behind his heart, so they can burrow into his spine and keep him moving forward.

He wraps his hands around your wrists.

Your eyes look glassy, tears sticking in your bottom eyelashes, but not daring to fall. Not yet.

“Keigo, I’m fucked up, I know that, and that’s okay,” You deflate a little. “I’m getting better. We’re getting better. I know we are.”

“We a-are.”

Keigo’s voice cracks, hoarse in his throat and tight as the uniform belt he used to wear. His lungs feel hot, too stuffed even as he tries to swallow the heat that’s welling up on the very back of his tongue.

“You are good, Keigo, I promise,” You lean in to give his forehead the lightest kiss and Keigo feels part of himself die in the best way. “Please, let’s just talk.”

And so, he does.

…

He tells you about Jin first.

You’d heard about him, the villain Hawks killed during the War. Published for the world to see, over and over, forever. The video was one you’d only seen once, during your early days at the hospital, but you could recall the footage on your grainy hospital television.

Your pretty eyes, pretty Keigo, cut him down. One of his old feathers, hardened into a stiff blade, struck Jin across the chest, arcing up to his neck and slicing a few important arteries  and veins. It was an imperfect job, one that probably made his death more painful and prolonged than it needed to be.

You don’t let go of Keigo’s cheeks as he tells you the story. You can’t, you’re too busy thumbing away the little tears that roll down his cheeks.

He speaks between sobs that break from his chest. Underused and much-needed.

“He was good, starshine,” Keigo curls in a little on himself, but you keep him mostly upright. “I had to, y-you know? I didn’t have a choice, if I didn’t—"

How many more people would be dead?

His body convulsed, the little tears turning fat as he collapsed into your chest and buried himself in you. Like he was hiding, and god, did you let him.

You hushed him, soothed him with little kisses, and listened.

“And then Dabi—”

You hate him, obviously. You only know his name and visage, and you hate him so much it hurts. Part of you wants to rub at his scars like he lets you, but you decide against it in Keigo’s fragility.

He tells you of the blue flames, how the boot felt against his back, how his throat burned for weeks from the heat and smoke. His grip on you goes so tight, you’re afraid he’s going to tear your shirt to shreds.

“He took them, starshine,” Keigo’s voice muffled into your shoulder, the sound of it rattling you. “He t-took them!”

And he slumps against you, well and truly, and can’t muster up another word. All you could do is hold him, rocking him from your little, shared spot on the couch and whisper to him little comforts. You’re crying a little too, breath tight and hazy as you let Keigo shatter in your arms.

He’s not ready to talk about his wings and that’s okay. More than okay.

So, you soothe him. He soothes you right back, rubbing at your sides, hips, thighs— whatever he can reach and touch and claim. You’re good, you’re the closest he’s going to get to permeance and he’ll be damned to let you go when you feel so good and he feels so fucking awful.

You fall back onto the chest, pulling Keigo with you so he can lay atop you. His ear presses to your chest, heart thumping in his ear while you lock your arms around him. Caged in and held, with the lightest pressure on the thick skin of his scars.

“I’ll never truly get it, I can’t,” You admit, quietly as you smooth back some of his tear-matted hair. “But I want to be here. I want to listen when you’re want to talk. Need to talk. You can dash off on your own, Keigo, that’s okay. Just know that I’ve got you to, okay?”

Keigo sniffled, peering up at you with wide eyes, “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“I am now, aren’t I? Just a few hours out from nearly being a popsicle,” You hum and joke, glowing from the inside out when Keigo graces you with a little smile.

It takes a few more moments for him to cover, haul himself up to the crook of your neck and breathing hard and deep for a while. Like he’s trying to absorb you through scent alone.

“… Are you okay?” Keigo asks, squeezing you so tight it hurts. (And you want more of it.) “You’re not as cold anymore.”

“I’m feeling okay,” You paw at your face a bit, rubbing your cheeks like they’re still numb and not flushed with blood and sticky with drying tears. “I just freaked out a little.”

“… Because I left?”

You nod, chewing your lips.

“I don’t want to be alone, Keigo,” You whisper it, though he already knows your admission. “I’m terrified of you leaving.”

“When I left,” Keigo rises to meet your gaze, gooey and cobbled. “Did you think I wouldn’t come back?”

“… Maybe,” You shake your head, refusing to look at him. “You didn’t say anything about coming back, just about… leftovers.”

You both frown.

“I panicked.” You shake your heard.

“… That’s what happens when you panic?”

“I guess?” Your mouth feels too dry. “I don’t know. I got scared. I panicked. What else was I supposed to do?”

There’s an obvious answer or two, but it’s unspoken.

“I’m not leaving,” Keigo rubs at your cheeks. “You’re gonna have to try pretty hard to get me gone, starshine. I love you too much to go easily.”

It’s a declaration, a strong one, and god does it feel fucking good to hear.

“… Promise?” You ask him as his palms cup your cheeks and jaw.

“Promise.”

“I heard on the call—”

Keigo interrupts you with a kiss, hard and long that steals your breath and makes your head spin.

“Promise.” Keigo breaths, pretty eyes meeting your heat-filled ones. “Everywhere, all the time, forever. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a start, even if that insecurity is so deeply rooted. The adoration in his eyes, and the sweetness of his touch tempers it all. It’s there still, just like how there’s so much unspoken that needs to be sorted, chewed on, and digested.

But now?

The embers in the hearth need another log or two. The futon needs to be folded out and I’d be best if you shared a cup or two of tea. Preferably something with lavender that’ll scent the cabin with the smells of spring and herbs.

Now, you’re both more than enough.

…

thank you for reading!!💞keep an eye out for part 3! 👀

ko-fi

[brellhal96]

It’s... pretty complicated

Summary: College dramas in the life of a third-year student who decides to start, not a relationship, but something with a renowned professor.

Okay the GIF is not very related to the subject, but this man dressed in black has me at his feet.

Notes: This is quite cliché actually, but what does it matter, it is worth dreaming. It is planned to be written in several chapters, so the first is mostly to give context to the story, I hope you like it.

I base myself on Loki's physique, although I will mention Tom Hiddleston as the star of the scene, but my perfect image is in the essence of Loki in a black suit.

I study a completely different area to numbers and physics, don't be rigorous with me on the subject, only I think it an excellent area to show Loki's personality, I do not know why.

I will show at the beginning of the series a somewhat possessive relationship, but with the outcome I promise to shape this. It should be noted that not in a toxic sense.

I didn't mention a specific university, country, or geographic location.ical location.

It's the first time I've written anything obscene, I hope you like it.

Precautions: 18+, mention of fear or anxiety, unprotected sex, a relationship at the beginning somewhat possessive.

CHAPTER 1

I NEVER SAID I WASN'T INTERESTED.

Notes: Okay this chapter is kind of weird honestly, I didn't really put so much emphasis on the obscene, but I feel like it ended up fine, I hope you like it.

Word count: 6389

You had gotten used to the hot weather of the beginning of the year, in fact you had always preferred that climate. You spent the summer with your parents on a beach, sometimes you missed them too much, but your father's job and the university of your dreams were right at the opposite ends of the country. The first year was quite complicated, but then you got used to living alone, you actually lived two blocks from campus so your bike was the perfect means of transportation.

You made some friends here, Jared had become your best friend, his bond of trust scared you a bit as you could tell him anything without fear, but it was quite comforting to have someone like that by your side.

You had earned a scholarship for academic excellence, your studies were your priority since you were a child and you loved that. The only unpleasant thing about this scholarship is that it restricted your choice of teachers in half of your subjects since you were supposed to be with “teachers of excellence”.

When you compared your subject strip to Jared and Diane, they only shared one class the three of them together, Diane another, and Jared two more. In the end you weren't going to be alone in all the classes so that calmed you a little, studying physics wasn't so complicated, it was easy for you, but socializing wasn't much for you.

You went to building C, your first class was analytical mechanics and later thermodynamics, the teacher in the second was assigned to you by the institute, a Doctor Hiddleston, you've never heard of him, you just hoped it wasn't a headache. Your mechanics teacher was a love and with the first class you knew it was going to be one of your favorite subjects.

When you finished you went to your other class, you sat right in the middle in the third row, several were in groups apparently with their friends from previous years. You took your computer and got ready to take notes. Suddenly the door closed tightly and everyone sat a little scared.

A very good-looking man came in, tall, thin and dressed completely in black, I honestly he caused you curiosity why for some reason you felt that you had seen him before.

Without seeing the class began to write on the board quickly "I am Professor Tom Hiddleston and I will teach the subject of Thermodynamics" His voice was strong and deep and you immediately recognized it. You frowned when you remembered last year's science fair, you won first place in the area of electromagnetism prototypes against a fourth-year kid, which made you feel completely proud, yet two of the judges had not been what we call nice to the two.

When you remembered Professor Hiddleston's deep look at you that day, the judges asked random questions to the fourth-year kid and you, but apparently your future thermodynamics teacher was one of those who enjoyed making students nervous with difficult questions. His sidekick on that occasion was your freshman professor, analytic geometry, Professor Scott Lawford a fucking genius, you had cried with his subject, but passed with an A +.

They both enjoyed seeing the nerves invading you and your opponent, whispering to each other with their answers. At one point Professor Hiddleston asked you and you remember perfectly well that when you finished speaking he only looked at you and smiled mockingly for then wrote something on his ballot. In the end you won by three points of the total vote and the fourth year boy, currently fifth, became your friend, both came to the same conclusion, the two teachers were crazy.

He began to write down on the board the evaluation and the issues that are always mentioned at the beginning of the year. For a moment you panicked when he wrote that one of the exams was oral, you could not imagine the martyrdom he would create just to get a passing grade.

He took 20 minutes to explain and let us out to start the next class with the course. When you came out unintentionally you stared at him while he was erasing the blackboard, but apparently your look was uncomfortable enough for him that for a second he turn and he stared at you, you rushed out of the classroom after that. When you told Jared about this future journey that you had to go through you felt immense despair, but then you remembered that, if you could the previous years with teachers equal or worse to him, this was only one step more.

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The first three weeks of class were pretty normal, you made two more friends and breakfast in the cafeteria with Jared and Diane made you forget about the pressures of school, but just the moment you felt like you were fitting in perfectly with your new year, the thermodynamics class became strange.

The classes with Tom were very pleasant, he was kinder than his body language showed, only he was certainly of a very volatile character, there were days when he seemed angry and others when he seemed happy, it was weird, but it was even weirder that you were attracted to him.

Your previous class had lasted longer than expected and the teacher extended 5 minutes out of her time which translates into being late for thermodynamics. You panicked when you saw the locked door of the classroom, wondered if it was better not to enter the class and pretend a headache straight to the infirmary, but in the end you breathed for a second and you'd decided get ready to knock the door.

“Can I help you with something?"You had never noticed that he was quite tall, it was the first time you were quite close to him.

"Sorry my mechanics teacher accidentally spread...”

"You were able to leave her class to get to mine on time, don't you think?"His gaze was quite penetrating up close.

“I really sorry, won't happen again,” Your hands were shaking, but in reality, not for fear, but his presence so formal, so rigid and secure made you feel strangely attracted to him, when you thought that, you actually invaded the shame, how do you fall in love of a teacher as strange as him.

He just opened the door and walked aside to let you through. "I asked them to work in pairs, look for your partner and ask him to explain what I already explain”

On the board were written several formulas, you wondered how he managed in 7 minutes to score so much.

You asked several guys over there, but apparently the whole damn world already had a partner, in the end you decided to do it alone, you just hoped he wouldn't flunk you for it. A girl explained the instructions to you, apparently you had to pick up one of the sheets that the professor had placed on the desk and solve it with the formulas on the blackboard, you even had to sit up to the top rows because all the other seats were occupied.

You started cursing internally while taking one of the paper sheets from the desk. "Who are you going to work with?"The professor asked you without seeing you while making notes with a rather nice pen of Indian ink.

"I'll do it alone, I already asked ... ”

"Don't you understand what couples are?"He interrupted you and this time he gave you a rather intimidating gaze.

"Yes, but apparently all my companions already have one and I figured I could do it alone then" Your hands trembled again with the paper sheet between them.

"Who doesn't have a partner?"he looked back at his papers and yelled at the whole group. It was pretty funny for you because he himself proved you were right, no one was missing a partner. When he looked up and saw that no one answered he saw you again and then looked at the blackboard behind his back.

"Well, I'll do it with you then" He got up and brought a chair that was at the end of the living room for you right next to his desk.

For a moment you wanted to run out of there, you knew you shouldn't make a mistake or say something stupid because otherwise you'd die trying.

"Get your stuff and start working it out, just let me finish a few things. To be fair with your colleagues and with you I will let you do it alone and answer any doubts you have, because obviously I know how this is solved, but I also consider that it is a lot of work for one person, do you agree?" His gaze became a little kinder.

"Yes, thank you,” you smiled faintly, but felt an internal shock as he winked at you and continued to write with his fine pen. You sat right in the corner of his desk, they were just three problems but they really left you with little desire to live. The first one, you felt was quite easy to solve, even at one point you felt the professor's gaze on you when you were so focused on your operations.

"Don't you have any doubts?"His eyebrows were puckered and his gaze was no longer mocking but rather with bona fide interests.

"No, not really, well I go in the second exercise, possibly I do" You smiled as you watched your operations with inner pride.

"Can I see?"He extended his hand to give him the leaves you had carried until then. You gave them to him, just hoping he'd tell you you had everything terribly wrong.

As he watched your leaves you watched him, he was quite attractive now that you saw him without fear that he would not let you into class, his hair was dark and apparently a lover of black to wear, his eyes were cute and quite tender while they examined your answers.

"Go on, I don't want to confuse you” He put the paper sheets on the desk and saw you with a small smile on your lips as a sign that you were on the right track.

Just 10 minutes before the class ended you finished all three exercises, you had only asked him one question and it was about whether it was a 4 or a 9 in a formula that wrote the board, so you felt pretty happy that you did it alone.

"Ready" You smiled broadly, you were the first to finish and the only one who had done it alone.

"Are you sure?”

"Yeah, well, I hope it's not a 0 at the end of the day,” you laughed to yourself, and in the end you wondered if you had thought about it or said it.

”Then let's see " took his pen and began to review your work. You froze when you saw that he framed something in your results, but he didn't tell you anything. "Well, I really didn't expect less from the winner of last year's science fair, maybe punctuality, but what does it matter”

You smiled when you saw that your grade was an A, only that he kept the papers, apparently he had to register them on his lists or something. Just as you were about to get up to leave, he asked you to stay at the end of class.

You sat back in the seats vacated by the peers that have already gone, but for a second, remembered what you said I didn't expected less from the winner of the science fair last year, he remembered you, you know that he remembered you, sonreíste for yourself when thinking that.

When the whole room was half empty, he started putting away his things. ”Come with me, " he said as he walked out with a firm and fast pace, so much so that you had to walk faster than normal. You wondered where they were going, it was pretty strange since you'd never been through the labs where it went.

“I've noticed that you're pretty good in the area, actually amazing, I even remember your answers about your prototype against the fourth year kid, former student of mine, you were much better than his” he opened the door of one of the labs and with his arm gave you a signal to enter.

“Thank you, I actually always dreamed of doing this, " you said as you walked into the lab, quite big, you assumed they were the ones that grad boys used.

"I want to propose you something” You sat at one of the practice tables and he leaned with both hands on his desk. "Would you like to work with me on a project I have?, is related to thermodynamics”

For a second you saw him with an expression of if he was joking with you or if he was serious and he seemed to read your mind.

"It's seriously, I'm working on a model related to the second law" he approached you sitting in the chair in front of yours.

"I would love to then, but I do not know how I could be of help”

"In many things" he smiled

For a moment you wondered why suddenly the man who seemed bitter about life was being so kind to you.

“You do not have to tell me your answer now, I will send you the files I have of my progress by mail if you like and you could think about it”

"Sure, I will" You smiled and he too, for a moment everything was silent, somewhat uncomfortable to be honest but his look no longer caused you fear, but somehow attracted you to him.

It was quite strange because they both got up at the same time so you were right next to him and his height difference was no small one.

"Well I think I have to go, I'll see you the next class”

"Wait, I wanted to give you something that I kept here," he went to the back cellar of the lab and came back with a bun that said first place. "I'm sorry, I was supposed to give it to you that day you won, but I honestly didn't remember where I left it, so this belongs to you.”

When you saw the bun with your name on it, you were very happy. "I thought they didn't give anything," you laughed as you put it in your backpack.

"Yeah, excuse me, I tend to be a little clueless about those things.”

"No problem," you smiled and shyly walked out of the room.

The weekend you started to question why Professor Hiddleston made you feel so nervous, now you knew that you were one of his star students, to the degree that you could be his future colleague, but why couldn't you even hold his gaze? you know, for a moment you thought about flatly refusing his project if you couldn't even see it in the eyes, but after you thought about it, you figured it would possibly be a good idea, you could even learn more things by being his apprentice.

It was Monday's class, you didn't know why, but you were in the lab on Friday, apparently you were doing an experiment on the tables with some microscopes on. ”You did it " There was Professor Hiddleston next to you, his command was on your waist and suddenly he began to approach you to kiss you on the lips and it was even stranger because it was quite nice for you, to reciprocate.

Right then you woke up, you're fucking in love with your thermodynamics professor, "Excellent Y / N, that's all that was missing."

Monday's class didn't even look him in the eye and you sat up to the top rows, you felt pretty uncomfortable with yourself thinking of a teacher that way.

"Y / N wait" Just when class ended you rushed to pack your things and run out of the classroom, but it still didn't work. "Did you think about what I told you?"The professor actually looked pretty excited about his own project.

"Yes, I just wondered if the meetings or the times we work could be on Fridays, that would make things a lot easier for me" You said without seeing the professor in the eyes, it was somewhat uncomfortable after that strange dream of the weekend.

"Sure, then it's a deal,” he held out his hand as if they were going to close the deal with a strong squeeze.

"Deal" You shook his hand and when you saw him you felt that his look was not only kind, but he was actually trying to tell you something.

The classes went on normally, you felt a little excited being sincere that you went to work with the professor who was now at the same time your impossible love, but you had to be careful for him not to notice. They agreed to meet after your last class at the lab on Fridays, at 15:00 hours. You knew it wasn't right, but from the moment you were attracted to the professor every time you saw him, you started using lip gloss and curling your hair.

For several weeks they worked on their project, now you understood their sudden mood swings, it was quite frustrating to feel that you had advanced in something and then realized that something did not fit with the rest of the procedure.

One Friday when you arrived he was making notes on the blackboard, had taken off his coat and tie and folded the sleeves of his shirt in a way that looked spectacularly attractive.

"Y / N pass," he smiled when he saw you in the driveway. "Did you read the documents I sent you?"On Wednesday he sent you a very interesting document about some theories related to the project.

"Yes, I just made some notes from some parts that I honestly didn't understand" You left your backpack in one of the buckets at the ends of the room " I'm not very good at some things”

"Neither do I, but don't worry,” he winked at you and you felt like you were melting internally.

For an hour they tried to solve one of the most difficult equations within the theory they chose, it was quite fun as sometimes you would collapse and sometimes he, but both tried to cheer up so as not to erase the whole slate of despair.

”Ready," you said when you finally managed to solve the equation.

”You did it!" saw the board quite surprised and so did you. "Your boyfriend is lucky" For a second he himself kept quiet knowing that the last thing he said wasn't quite right.

"Boyfriend? that species is extinct within my social radar" You laughed trying to keep him from feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." He saw you trying to analyze your expression.

"Well sometimes the unconscious makes us a bad move" You smiled broadly "besides I guess the lucky one is his girlfriend" you returned the same move trying to tempt the ground.

"It's also an extinct species to me," he smiled, but he avoid your gaze.

"Well, then we're free to go looking for it.”

"I thought you had a boyfriend," he said as he started writing the equation on the board on the computer.

"Why?"you sat at the desk, watching him write on the computer quite nervous.

"Nothing else" You knew he was lying to you.

"Nothing else?”

"Well you're a very cute and smart girl, I figured a lot of guys are interested in you.” He didn't even look you in the eye when he said that.

”I'm not really interested in anyone" You saw through the window as you answered" well, only in someone, but it's impossible” Oh God, now the unconscious had made the wrong move to you talking too much.

”Nothing is impossible" he looked up and seemed to know what you meant.

"Well, it's just that if I just had a sign I could know it's not impossible" You started fiddling with your wrist bracelet nervously.

"How what a sign?" he stopped writing and stood right in front of you, you were still sitting at the desk.

"I don't know" You felt the adrenaline start to accelerate your pulse as it approached you.

"A date, a kiss, or even invite you to work on a project?" He placed his hands on the edge of the desk rubbing your legs.

”Yes, that sounds good " Clearly you knew what he meant, his look and yours were fixed, you appreciated that the door was closed and it was the third level, the windows were facing nowhere, so no one could see what was happening.

"Well sometimes it is necessary that you also give signals, don't you think?" His gaze and yours really seemed to be completely fixed.

"Yeah, that sounds fair." You started breathing deeper.

Slowly, he tempting the ground, began to approach, for a moment you knew that this was not right, that it was not right, but fuck, your body wanted it as you have no idea. Slowly he started to kiss you, he was nice and actually a very good kisser, then he started to get a little rougher, but both you and he knew you wanted him, his arm held your hip and your hands hugged his neck holding on to him.

"Dr. Hiddleston, I bring the copies you ordered." Someone knocked on the door and immediately the feeling of running out overwhelmed you.

"Sure, I'm coming" saw you and he wiped the lip gloss you had left on him. You packed your stuff fast and when I was going to close the door again you walked out without seeing him in the face.

"Until Monday" You started walking fast.

"Y / N wait" was the last thing you heard when you started going down the stairs two at a time.

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You, Diane and Jared planned to go out that weekend, you weren't feeling well, but you also didn't want to leave them after you had planned this for days.

"Hey, you look pale," Jared saw you worried as they waited for food at the mall.

"Do you feel well Y/N?" Diane picked up a lock of your hair as you looked at nothingness.

”I'm a little worried," you said looking at the table now  "Can I ask for some advice?”

”You know you can Y/N" Jared saw you even more worried.

"What should I do if I like someone I shouldn't like?" Dress up Jared.

"Does he have a girlfriend or is he a fuck boy?" Diane asked pretty quickly.

"None, it's just...”

”Then I see no reason why you shouldn't like it."

”It's not that, but, he's like, I don't know how to say this" You didn't want to tell them that he was your thermodynamics professor, you would never actually do it. "I met him some time ago in the cinema, he's cute and kind to me, but he's older than me” you lied a little about it.

"How much are we talking about?”

"14 years, I think" you've never actually asked him about his age, but on one occasion while you were typing on his computer you saw his college professor card that had all his data on it by the way.

”Look at that, my best friend a whole league men" Diane actually got excited, started asking you what he was like and if you had already had something with him which was pretty strange, but Jared's expression wasn't really emotional.

"I can only tell you to be very careful Y/N" Jared took your hand " Do not let the pretty words lead you down a path other than the one you seek. And well, if he like you and you like him, I see no problem”

The weekend you thought about the kiss his gave, it was quite nice really nice, you had only had three boyfriends before and honestly their kiss had been better than all the previous ones. The problem was what were you going to do on Monday when you see him? Well that day you decided to wear a pink dress that your mother given you at Christmas, you never wore this type of clothes so it was going to be something quite new, you combed your hair differently even, you knew that if you were at least going to talk to him and he told you that it was a mistake he would miss something great.

Your legs started shaking when you walked into the classsroom, you sat as usual in the third row, Tom wasn't there yet, so that calmed you down a little more. You noticed that in this class you had not made friends, so to avoid the panic of seeing him in the eyes when he entered in the classroom you preferred to start talking to the girl who always sat next to you.

"He took a while, didn't it?" you smiled so you didn't look crazy.

"Yes something, but for me no problem" the girl smiled as well

"My name is Y / N, and you?”

"Meghan, you're going with the teacher Fox in relativity, aren't you?”

"Yeah, you too?”

"No but my boyfriend does, I've seen you come out of there when I expect it”

"Well, I don't really know many people.”

"Well, college is exhausting," they both smiled, actually Meghan seemed like a pretty nice girl.

"Speaking of the king of Rome, he's arrive." When she said that and you heard the door shut, fear invaded you, so you didn't look at him. You just focused on your computer monitor, but you knew he saw you.

The class felt as if it had lasted 20 minutes and not an hour and a half, the desire to leave was enough.

"Hey if you want we could have breakfast together today, apparently you don't have class now either, do you?" Meghan waited for you to put your things away.

"Of course I would love to and no, I don't have class” You fully appreciated that Meghan will not leave you in the classroom, without looking at Tom you went out with your new friend, you felt that had been a bit cruel, but the nerves were worse.

At the end of the day you didn't do anything about it and neither did Wednesday and apparently Tom wasn't interested in asking you to stay and talk either, or so it seemed.

On Friday you returned to the usual routine with the usual clothes and hairstyle, honestly you no longer felt in the mood to waste time on those things. The class went on normally until at one point you crossed eyes with him, it was a bit strange, but you pretended you didn't care and ignored him after a few seconds. At the same time in the classes you talked with Meghan, even going out to eat the cafeteria.

"Y/N can we talk for a second?"Back to being alone with him in the classroom at the end, Meghan said goodbye and whispered you in your ear that she will waiting for you in the cafeteria.

"Hey I didn't want to overdo you, let alone bother you, I apologize for it and also if you no longer want to work on the project I will fully understand it” His face seemed that he was really sorry about last week.

"I really don't know what to say." You were completely honest.

"I'm sorry I should have known that you're not interested in me at all and it's okay”

"I never said I wasn't interested”

He calmly checked the hallway and closed the classroom door

"You ran away, that tells me otherwise”

"Yes, but that's was I panicked, I didn't want to bother you”

"For God's sake, that doesn't matter anymore.”

"It does matter and quite”

"You want to talk about this then?”

"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner”

"So am I, excuse me too” he hesitated for a second when he finally asked," Do you want to continue with the project?”

"Of course I do" You got a little closer to him.

"See you at 15: 00 then" He too approached and carefully kissed your hand to leave the classroom.

This time you arrived early, your teacher had let them out forty minutes earlier, so you decided to be somewhat punctual to your appointment. You read while you waited sitting on the chairs in the hallway, when you saw him come you smiled and he when saw you, smiled too.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you were going to arrive so early” he closed the door carefully and just as he turned around you gave him a pretty long kiss and he reciprocated broadly.

"I'm sorry" You saw that he was actually happy about it "I think last time we couldn't finish it"

He held your face in his hands for a few seconds "I like you Y/N, I know what's not right, I know this not right, but fuck, I like you a lot”

”And you me" He kissed you again, this time a little rough, it seemed that he wanted to make his statement clear. ”I really wanted to kiss you in front of everybody on Monday in that cute dress."

"If you like it I can bring it more days," you winked.

After that day working on the project was much more fun, and even in the classes they shared gazes from time to time, it felt good, had passed enough time that you did not date someone. On the other hand, sometimes fear invaded you, you knew that if anyone found out about whatever it was you and Tom had, it was the end of your scholarship and even your college life.

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"Do you like lobster?"He asked you while making notes on the computer and you cleaned the board.

"I've never eaten it"

“What? How can you live without eating lobster in your life?" He came up to you and, holding you by the waist, turned you towards him.

"Well, we're not all millionaires so I can't buy lobster." You inadvertently smeared chalk in his hair when you touched him.

"Then I'll buy you lobster dinner. What do you say?" He caressed your face as he waited for your answer

"Mmmm, when?”

"Tomorrow, I'd wait a few blocks from here, you don't want anyone to see you getting in my car, do you?”

"I'd love for them to, but yes, send me the instructions and I'll see you there then.”

"Why would you love it?"He kissed your neck calmly.

"That they might see that you are mine" You smiled mockingly.

"Well, I mean you're mine too, so it would be a fair deal.”

For weeks now both were texting, it was interesting to see that teachers also have a life apart from teaching.

You dressed up, not so formal or so casual for the occasion, it was the first date you had, it felt a little strange, you wore on a low-cut black dress, something daring for your tastes, but it was the most suitable thing you found. When you arrived at the rendezvous point, you immediately identified his car.

“I can't believe how perfect you are, " he gave you a sweet kiss while you fixed your skirt so it wouldn't wrinkle. He came as always very formal.

The dinner was perfect, you did not know that the lobster tasted that way, you liked it a lot, the place was beautiful, the waiters very attentive and well, talking with Tom about things that were not thermodynamics was pleasant. In the end he invited you to his apartment, which you sincerely hoped was not just with the intention of kissing you.

When they arrived his apartment looked like a palace, it was very nice, very cozy, his kitchen was comfortable enough to cook anything, your apartment was too small for a kitchen like him.

He told you that he should make some calls, that you could explore the house if you wanted and you took his word, it was very nice place, in the hallway to the bedroom had his medals and recognitions, you did not know that he studied chemistry too, he's a genius. When you finished walking, you looked in the fridge for something to drink.

"Want some wine?"Because of its height it was much easier to reach the shelves above where it seemed to have the bottles of wine.

”I would love to"

He served two glasses in half, it was red wine with a very good smell, you knew it because your father was a wine lover, so much so that he had even taken you to vineyards to see how they did it.

"May I?"You asked, pointing out if you could play something on the record player in the room.

“Clear”

When yo put the pen on the record a fairly quiet song began to play, he took the cup out of your hand and put it on the ledge next to his, placed his hand on your waist and with the other he held your hand, you placed yours on his neck.

“Would you laugh if I told you it's the first time I've danced with someone? well, that someone who is not my father invites me to dance”

"Really?”

"Yeah, well I had a boyfriend that I took out to dance, that's why it doesn't count,” you laughed as you remembered that.

"Well, what an idiot, you are beautiful Y/N and I will dance with you as many times as possible”

You felt a lot of peace in his arms, he was much stronger than you, that was clear, but even just seeing him in the eyes you felt that everything was going to be okay. You weren't very good at dancing, but he gave you the confidence to even make a mistake.

For a moment he began to kiss you slowly, slowly while the music echoed to both of us, then he began to kiss your neck which in a way tickled you, but at the same time made you want it with all your soul. After a few seconds as his hands ran through your hips and yours his hair whispered into his ear: "Take me to the bedroom" you stared at him and he understood completely.

He carried you so easily that it seemed that you did not weigh anything, carefully put you in bed and wait for you reaction.

"For God's sake, I want to make you mine from the moment I saw you at that fucking science fair contest.”

"Well now is your time" You bit your lip slightly.

He knew you were too small in comparison to him, so he was very careful when touch you, first he started by your dress, very slowly unbuttoning it. He look you in your underwear the moment he managed to take it off you. On the other hand, you, in a somewhat desperate way, started to take off his belt.

"No, until I say so" Their gaze turned a bit dark, they could see the desire for each other in your eyes.

He started kissing your crotch carefully, you moaned slightly, you had no intimate contact with anyone for a long time, so you somehow didn't remember how glorious this feels. He kept kissing getting closer to your entrance, the heat began to flood your body, after walking your thighs he began to lick your entrance a little desperate, but at the same time touching the exact points to make you see stars. He put two fingers inside you and immediately your back curled, when he entered the third in you pulled his hair as you began to feel the heat in your stomach increase more and more.

”Tom, please, I'm almost there" you moaned as your eyesight began to blur completely.

His fingers began to move faster and for an instant you felt like the heat flooded your whole body, it was the first time that someone managed to make you come with oral sex. You pulled his hair back, but it didn't seem to bother him, even taking it as a way to know where or not to continue. Your legs clenched at the feeling and he proudly began to undress. When you saw it you felt that you really needed to have he inside you, his axis was quite large, more than you imagined and its well worked body made you feel needed.

"Fuck me like there's no tomorrow," you whispered as you recovered from the first round.

You felt the desire going between your legs, again you were so wet just to imagine he inside you.

"You know that if I hurt you or if you want me to stop I will do it immediately” He placed on you and spread your legs with his knee.

You just nodded, he was staring at you as he began to insert his shaft into you, it hurt a bit, tears started running down your cheeks and Tom's face looked worried, "Do you want me to stop?”

"No!" To drown the groans you hid your face on his shoulder as he began to take a rhythm in his onslaught, at one point the pain ceased and he took a stronger rhythm, one after another, you felt as your body began to attach quite well to its axis, to the degree that you glued more your hips to his, demanding more. When he noticed it one of his hands took the headboard and with the other placed one of your legs on his shoulder to give you what you needed. At some point he also started moaning, loud and deep, which made you feel even more excited in the middle of it all.

”Fuck, why are you so perfect?" he whispered into your ear as you began to feel your orgasm was about to bloom.

"Make me yours, only yours" you moaned almost without strength.

"You are only mine" His onslaught, although it seemed that you could not, began to be faster and deeper, you knew that sitting was going to be a challenge for you in the following days.

To drown your groans he gave you a very deep kiss, his tongue did all the work in the kiss, honestly for you it was a sea of sensations that would end you unconscious of pleasure. Just as they both reached the climax he saw you in the eyes and felt you fade away in sobs and moans.

”I'm almost there" he said as he clung even more to you and your legs began to close with pleasure.

"Me too" Didn't know if you understood what you meant, but at least you were trying.

"Let me feel you" His words were your release and his, you felt the heat of his seed inside you and it was enough for your orgasm to reach the necessary point of feeling a deep warmth throughout your body. The veins on her neck were too marked and you could also feel her breathing so heavy as she enjoyed her release.

He was over you for several minutes, the only thing you could hear in the room was his busy, deep breaths. You hugged him fondly and he hugged you, when he came out of you you felt a pretty weird void, but fuck, it was the best sex you'd ever had in your life.

After his breaths managed to take a moderate course he saw you in the eyes as he groomed your hair carefully.

”I didn't want to be too brusque the first time" His hand caressed your stomach, internally you told yourself that if this was not brusque you didn't imagine the next time how sore you would end up, but it's something that really excited you, in every way.

"We'll have many more times to do it" You smiled and planted a kiss on his lips. "Many more" smiled in the middle of the kiss which made you adore him even more.

Thanks for readign me 

[abbynx]

Juliet and Ophelia (Trish Una X Reader)

Like I said I can't pass up an opportunity to simp for this girl.

So this is a continuation of 'How would the La Squadra family react to you having a crush on the former boss' daughter, Trish Una?'

So yes, this series will be called, "Juliet and Ophelia" A Trish Una X Reader with a dash of found family with La Squadra and the Bucci gang so stay tuned!

Genre: Romance, fluff, wholesome

School. Nothing else to say, the certain word can emit a certain reaction from every individual. Some recoil and wince from the sudden flashbacks rushing into them, embarrassment and shame from all of the stunts they pulled. Some react with a certain fondness within them, lips slightly tugged to the side as the sudden nostalgia just soaks them up. Some, indifference. It's just an establishment wherein an individual attended for a quarter of their life and held nothing against it. To you, it didn't really emit anything from you. As a person who has never attended school, you looked at in an indifferent manner. You've been homeschooled all your life, relying on the knowledge your tutor Melone or sometimes Ghiaccio teaching you. They're good mentors, always took the time to make you feel like they aren't dumping overwhelming amounts of data on you. Additionally, they were extremely mindful of your well-being and made sure to not over-work La Squadra's adopted child. You thought of school as something as that, a school. You have nothing against it at all, nor you feel any sorts of things to it but you can certainly empathize those young people who struggle against it, tiring themselves to no end and are unsatisfied until their unmeetable standards are met. So that's what sums it, you were indifferent towards it... Until you yourself have began to attend it and all you can associate it with would be utmost regret. You didn't know what came up to you when Risotto asked of you if you wanted to live normally, he clarified that again; would you like to start attending school, like any other normal teens your age? Admittedly, home schooling is the norm too, but do you really want assassins educating you all your life instead of spending times with people your age, just enjoying the wonders of life? Ohhh, the entirety of La Squadra does not want you to emulate the same misery they've live to get to this, dear no. Risotto was kind enough to give you time to think about it, his right hand man Prosciutto taking the time to also explain its benefits and negatives. They offered to enroll you to a boarding school, attain a certain normalcy in your life for once. Although it was a boarding school, you can always go home every weekend to see them again. They can try to play it smooth and casual, but you know that they'd be too clingy to let you go. And by that, you accepted for some reason and now you've come to regret it, and can never take it back. You remain unmoving from your desk for the remainder of lunch break, head tilted down and interacted at the most interesting specimen to you, that were the pair of polished black shoes Prosciutto bought you. They were ridiculously expensive for a pair of shoes, but they are durable and pretty to look at, I guess. Just the perks of having a fashionable guy around. It was a dumb sight in hindsight and in an outsider's point of view, but you liked the way it gave out a glimmer when directed in light. Not only that, it's not like you can do anything about your crippling isolation in school. Everyone seems to despise your guts in this damned institution for some reason. You really don't know what they problems were, nor were they willing to confront you about it and instead opted to whisper and laugh at you from behind as you tread pass them. It was so damn unfair that you were one of the most fierce assassins La Squadra Esecuzione has to offer and yet you were easily taken down by a bunch of high schoolers who talked behind your back. You loathed this place. You regretted accepting the offer to study in this god forsaken hell and just wanted to go home. Melone's home education was more than enough, heck his teachings were more advance than the school curriculum has to offer and yet Risotto has insisted for you to experience this period of life for some reason. You've grown up from them, raised by assassins and have experienced the weirdest shit as a Stand User and they still think you need to have a normal high school life? And for what? It's not like there's an underground

organisation ran by students at school where you were needed to play double agent but no-- they insisted you to study things you already knew and compete among students apparently. The lunch packed with food remained untouched in your bag, wherein you planned to just give it to the stray cats and dogs just as you wait for one of La Squadra to pick you up from this damned institution. It's not like you were starving yourself, you were just uninterested to eat at the moment and you really didn't want it to go to waste so why not give it to those who are more in need? You weren't really accustomed to eating alone, as there would always be a member of La Squadra eating with you. These past few weeks felt so full without them that now it's made imminent to you that without them— life can be so colourless, so monochrome, so damn boring. Your crippling sense of loneliness, in addition to your utter unaccustomed self in a new environment made life hell for you in here. It would only be a few, agonising hours until you would be picked up by one of the assassins. At least there you'd get some actual slumber that won't require you to wake up at five o'clock to practically rush towards the school shower rooms and bathe in ice cold water in the middle of dawn for another day in hell. The teacher's lectures remained audible to you, and yet you couldn't seem to properly understand what she was going on about. It was a mere noise, as your eyes would impatiently dart up to meet with the hands of ticking clock, idly zooming by, as your legs bounced at the anticipation of the bell ringing. It was only a matter of a few more hours and yet, you just can't wait to ditch this hellhole for two days. "L/N, are you paying attention?" You jerk your head up from your daydreams with a slight yelp. Your teacher stood indignant, hands on her hips as she raised a questioning brow at you. "Well?" She waits. "Yes, Madam." You nodded. "Then pray tell, what is the common misconception about Mary Shelley's Frankenstein?" She challenged, shifting her weight on one side and awaits for your answer. It was then you noticed all eyes were on you. You knew the answer very well, it was simple really and yet being the centre of attention certainly hindered you from answering as soon as you can. "See? This is why--" "The common misconception regarding the Gothic novel Frankenstein is that often they refer the monster as Frankenstein, when in reality it's the name of the creator of the creature, Doctor Victor Frankenstein." You once remembered Ghiaccio's outburst about that, his shrill voice just ranting on and on about referencing the name incorrectly in modern pop culture. For a moment the teacher looks at you from the tip of her nose, as if to say 'I'll get you next time', before returning to the lesson Well, that was a relief. You released a breathe you've been harbouring, before turning your head yet again to watch the ticking hands of the clock go by and finally have the day done. ~•~ Similarly to your situation, it has come to her attention that she deeply regretted transferring back to school after a year of her absence. It was as if nothing changed, she was the same ol' Trish no one paid attention to, nor cared about. She only existed amidst their faint breathes whispering amongst each other behind her back as she passes by; "Whoop, there is she is again. I don't get why she returned." "Maybe she was pregnant last year." "Omg, really?" And she despises it. She couldn't have a single shit about their thoughts about her, but if they ever dared to spread rumours she wouldn't hesitate to use her connection with the mafia. She tries not to abuse this power, but come on, who wouldn't? At least now, they knew they wouldn't dare to land a hand on her, she has her own Stand now and not only that, her new family wouldn't stand something such as this to happen to her. All she wanted to do was to leave to godforsaken hell hole for two days for the weekend but alas, her pickup person was taking way too long. As much as she wants to stand up,

march forward to her new home with Bruno and the others, she was strictly told to wait for one of them to pick her up. But alas, they were taking too long and the roof of the waiting shed wasn't ideal for a rainy day either, not with its leaky roof, that is. All she can do was to sit on the metallic bench, and dodge dripping water leaking from the roof of the waiting shed. Seated at arm's length away from her, was a classmate of hers. A memory implanted itself on her brain after that one lecture in class, impressed at their quick wit to respond to the teacher's question, even if they paid little to no attention to the lesson apparently. And not to mention, their nonchalance response after proving the teacher correct was admirable. If only she can do something similar of that, she knew she'd be more proud of herself. The pinkette looks up in anticipation at the sound of a vehicle pulling over in front of a waiting shed, but frowned once she sees it wasn't the usual van Bruno rents. It was a black van, with pure black tinted windows and honestly, she'd think it was one of those vans that you'd be afraid of when you see it approaching. The student beside her let out a relieved sigh, and practically skipped off before boarding the van. Trish couldn't help but to sigh out as well, as she was now left alone to wait under the leaky roof. Trish shivered from the cold, before she decided to gather her knees in front of her chest to provide herself warmth from the rain. If only she brought with her the pink umbrella Giorno gifted to her, but alas, she forgot and left it back in the villa they currently reside in. She wanted to disobey them, and just walk home but she had no umbrella and doesn't really want to spend the weekend with her nose clogged and throat sealed with pain, as much as she wants to stay and rest within the villa with her new found family. She wanted to go home, she hated the hell hole and regretted her decision going back to it. As she wallows from her regrettable decision, the van door opens and the students steps out of it. Trish was confused for a moment, but didn't reacted to it, as her gaze remains directed down. For all she knew they don't left something behind, but apparently she was wrong. "Hey, it's pretty cold and you might catch a fever. You can borrow my jacket, here," Trish looked up, shocked to see you holding a black jacket and a light blue umbrella. She was shocked to say the least, but graciously accepts it. "The umbrella is a bit broken, sorry about that—" "N-no, it's enough... T-Thank you..." "You're welcome," they were quick to interact with, before they run towards the van once again and drove off. Trish watches the black van disappear into a turn, before she looks back at the jacket, subconsciously smiling fondly at it. She shrugs the jacket on, as it was slightly loose around her frame, before opening the umbrella above her head. After glancing at the direction from whence your van drove off, the smile on her face never wavered despite her impatience for her pick up person to arrive. ~•~ "So how was school, Y/N?" Risotto asks after a cheery round of laughter at the dinner table. You halted for a moment upon hearing the dreaded s-word being spoken. Thankfully, no one took notice of your reluctant pause and cleared your throat. You went on as normal, as you poke with your food in front of you. "It's good." You hoped that it wouldn't come up but alas, it was inevitable they'd ask that like any other adult talking to a young adolescent.  "Anyone got your attention~?" Illuso teases with his usual lopsided grin, with a mock crone. "Not really." You deadpanned, as you mentally rolled at the idea of liking someone in that school when everyone's been mean to you. "Your asking the wrong question, did you get someone's attention, though?" Melone chimes in. Once again, you mentally scoff at the idea of someone liking you. "Nuh uh." Oh if only they knew. Well now that you think about it, it was better for them not to know. They're highly capable people with strings to

pull and honestly, your classmates hasn't done anything physical to you yet. "Enough about the lovey dovey crap, what's important is that they're learning crap in school like they're supposed to be!" Ghiaccio retorts towards the two. "We're just glad you're enjoying yourself at school." Pesci adds with a warm smile. Another reason you can't tell them about your hatred for school. They were happy for you having that normalcy in your life, something they've never experienced pleasantly. As much as yours wasn't that ideal of a usual high school teen drama in one of those novels, but at least it wasn't as worst as their experience. And honestly, you would do just about anything to see them smile. "OHHH SHIT, Y/N'S SCHEDULED TO WASH THE DISHES!" Formaggio shouts from the kitchen in joy, prompting you to jerk up your seat in shock. The man has the tendancy to trick you into washing dishes sometimes and now that you've grown and realised how naïve you were, you grew more wary of his tricks. "SHUT THE HELL UP, NO WAY—" "YES WAY!" Formaggio returns from the kitchen, holding up the chart of dish washing schedule, before sticking his tongue out at you. "SUCKER!" Truly, you've missed the rampant chaos within your family, a stark contrast against the repetitive schedule in school. It was sheer chaos there too, not gonna lie, but this is a different type. This was the type wherein you felt at home, just smiling as the villa becomes frosted with a thin layer of ice unlike the one in school. You wanted to stay with them, but of course, their main priority was for you to have some sort of normalcy in your life and honestly, if that's what makes them happy you'd be happy to oblige. You are certainly doing great at school, and they're proud of it, it shows... If only Gelato and Sorbet were to see you as well. They may be gone, but you can just imagine them smiling and encouraging you. ~•~ Of course happy days would pass swiftly than its duller counterpart. Happy days were over once Monday hits and you were once again strapped to your seat for the next eight hours, another three hours by the library to get the Mount Everest high school work due to tomorrow, before curling up against the corner of your bed staring off into the abyss until slumber has taken a liking to you and claim you within its embrace and then somehow, someway, you would be then pulled from your sweet escape by a shrill bell from your bedside table, before you would inevitably glare at the blaring alarm clock, slam your hand against it before attempting to regain about five more minutes of sleep— only then to remember how things function in this seventh circle of hell as it was enough to convince you to get up and march towards your dresser with your stuff and head to the shower room. Needless to say, you've got the school schedule memorised by now. Even the usual discord occurring from time to time began to bore you. Nothing much really happened in school, you were just slowly deteriorating from boredom and by home sickness... Once gain, just goes to show how much you missed your chaotic little assassin family. You set yourself by your desk with a sigh, just wanting to get through this place without wanting to wreak havoc within the school premises that will prompt a bad mark on your pristine records. Not that you cared, it's just that Prosciutto will surely bitch about once he catches a glimpse of it and make an hour-long lecture about it. You let out an exhausted sigh for the umpteenth time, slumping against your desk with your eyes closed when suddenly a figure stands in front of your table. You immediately straightened your back and tried your best to look alive, before glancing up at her. "Oh hey, what's up?" You instinctively asked to swerve yourself away from the awkward silence, smiling up to the pinkette. "Hi, thank you for lending me you cost and umbrella. If it weren't for them I would've caught a cold back there." She hands you your jacket and umbrella back, in which you graciously accepted. "You're welcome, Miss Una— I-um—" you

stammered, your hands brushing against hers once you've reached to collect your neatly folded, pressed and newly washed jacket, along with your light blue umbrella. It was the heat of the moment when you gave her those following items and felt sorry for the girl, concerned about the dripping rain and the cold, humid air. "It's no problem." "Please no need for formalities, we're the same age. Just call me Trish." She insists. "There's the cafe in front of campus. I'll see you there after classes, my treat. It's the least I can do to show you my gratitude." "Uhhh, of course." For a moment it didn't process that the café she was referring to was an expensive one. The posh, fancy, the Prosciutto's to-go-to type of thing that charges an arm and a leg just to buy a shot of espresso, and they'd charge you your pair of kidneys if you asked for sugar and cream. Money wasn't a problem now that the boss was actually considerate, but why in all nine circle's of hell did you not insist her not to treat you? Well now's too late, as class has started and she's trudged back to her desk. Aside from the expensive coffee shop... Wow, you never thought that your encounter with her would expand to this type of interaction. At the back of your mind screamed wary, but something stronger in you just found this as a perfect opportunity for a friendship to bloom. She seems like a nice girl and quite frankly, she'd be lovely to spend time with. Like the weeks before spending your time in school, you gaze up to the clock as always, excited for something new other than weekends to go back to the La Squadra villa. This time, you were excitedly anticipating the time after class to meet with the lovely pinkette. Something good will happen, I just feel it!

[doctenwho]

A Night With The Stars

Hello! So, a bit of housekeeping first! Sorry once again for this taking a while, I mentioned yesterday in an ask that I hurt my shoulder right after Christmas, so writing was a bit of a struggle! Thankfully it’s starting to feel better now, and hopefully I can keep working through the requests I have waiting! Sorry if you’ve been waiting a while, I promise I’ll get to it!

This request was so much fun to work on, and how cute is that idea? Just sitting with Ten looking at the stars? Adorable! Also, cute and flirty Ten is best Ten. That’s all, so, please enjoy!

Rating: None?

Word Count: 2,707

Summary: Read prompt above!

(As always, lovely gif doesn’t belong to me! Credit to the creator!)

You liked quiet evenings with the Doctor in the TARDIS. Sitting with your legs hanging off the edge of the TARDIS doors, just taking in what the universe had to offer.  

There really was nothing better than sitting up in the stars, seeing it and, if you really wanted to, leaning out and touching those stars (though the Doctor strongly recommended you didn’t touch stars, nor lean out too far). You’d heeded his warnings, of course, but the thought still crossed your mind every so often.  

The universe was far more extravagant than anything that the earth had to offer, and it felt like it was just for your eyes. It put earth planetariums and that experience to shame, and you weren’t sure you’d never manage to find anything quite as beautiful anywhere else. 

This was a special gift only you, a few other companions you knew about, ever got to see. A privilege that came with the Doctor’s hectic life.  

Sure, you could see the stars from earth, or with a telescope, but once you’d experiences this, seeing planets, and stars and all their details and glory up close, a telescope would no longer deliver that amazing experience.  

Honestly, if you had to guess, you were sure the Doctor really just liked to ruin telescopes and star gazing for people when he got to option too, because now that you’d seen this, nothing would ever compare.

You crossed one ankle over the other, and just stared out. Taking it all in.  

It was early in the evening, you knew, not that the darkness around you told you anything regarding what time of day it was. It was always dark and stary in space, the sun certainly wasn’t the way to tell time in the TARDIS.  

The Doctor was behind you, not that you bothered to look. He was probably steering the TARDIS silently, like he tended to do. There was a gentle hum of the TARDIS surrounding you, one you’d gotten used too early on. It was a comfort to you now, more than it was annoying.  

“Y/N?”

You drew your attention back to the Doctor, turning to look at him briefly.  

The Doctor moved to join you, sitting down beside you and shifting so his legs were also hanging out like yours. The doorway was wide enough to accommodate the two of you perfectly well, but he still chose to sit beside you so his thigh settled against yours.

You smiled to yourself, as you leaned a bit into his side. You could feel his fond gaze on you, but you didn’t look towards him to confirm it. He lightly tapped his foot against yours, hanging down into the darkness of space and shimmering stars beneath the TARDIS, and you pushed yours back against his playfully.  

You liked this.  

Just being with the Doctor in the best sense of the word. Just... being.

Where you weren’t in danger, or being chased, or any other dangerous situation you’d been stuck in before while accompanying the Doctor in his travels. The good times far outweighed the bad ones, but it just made moments like this all the while more special.  

Moments where you could just breath, with the Doctor by your side.  

Calm.

“What’re you doing?” the Doctor questions, kicking his feet lightly so they waver back and forth. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s look at you. You can feel his eyes on you, so you keep your attention straight, looking over the beauty of the universe. Taking in the details that were always passing you by as you whipped off, to whatever destination the man beside you had in mind, now that you had the chance.  

“Taking it in,” you mumbled, finally lulling your head in his direction, “I still can’t get over how... pretty this is,” you gestured a hand towards the expanse of the stary world surrounding you, “it’s just... so much more beautiful up close...”

“Indeed,” the Doctor agreed, looking out as well. He didn’t look quite as impressed as you, but he had been travelling space and time for over nine-hundred years. He’d seen it since he was young, you were sure.  

But he still did like to be the one to introduce space to people. To experience it with his companions and share the beauty of it all, and you could tell that just from the knowing smile playing on his lips as he looked back towards you, “nothing your earth has to offer will ever truly capture this kind of view, will it?”

“Not in my time,” you shrugged with a light smile, “but that’s alright, because I get to see it with you. Not everyone is that lucky.”

A grin spread across the Doctor’s face, small but prideful, “I’m honored.”

“You should be,” you laughed. “Don’t get cocky, Spaceman.”

“Never,” the Doctor teased. He gave an easy sigh, leaning back with his arms supporting him. “I’m truly lucky to have a companion like you, (Y/N). Nothing cocky about that, now is there?”

You shook your head with an embarrassed smile, ducking your head so he couldn’t see your face anymore. Beside you, the Doctor cleared his throat, voice following a bit nervously, “I’ve prepared something for us, if you’d like to see?”

“You did?” You raised an eyebrow skeptically, “and what would that be?”

“It’s a surprise,” the Doctor grinned, shaking his head as if saying he wasn’t going to tell you, like his use of ‘surprise’ had implied, “you wait here, and I’ll be right back with it, alright?”

“Alright.”

The Doctor was only gone for about a minute—maybe two. You didn’t bother looking back at him until he was sitting himself back down beside you. He’s set something down, then pulled it close so it took up residence between the two of you, which drew in your attention.  

You looked down at what the Doctor had brought, eyeing it thoughtfully.

“A picnic?” You blinked in surprise, eyes lifting up to the Doctor’s smiling face.

Beside the Doctor, settled between the two of you, was an old picnic basket. The kind you’d really only seen in films, or tv shows. Old and probably obtained before you even existed. You weren’t even sure they made picnic baskets like that anymore.  

It was perfect down to the checkered fabric covering the inside and peeking out of the rim of the basket.  

“A picnic,” the Doctor confirmed, flipping the top of the picnic basket open so you could gaze in at what he’d brought along, “you didn’t seem too keen on leaving the doorway today, and I know you humans tend to eat three meals a day so... I thought you’d like to have something to eat... a picnic in the stars?”

You shifted your eyes from the basket, back to the galaxy before you, smiling lighting up slowly. You looked back at the Doctor to see him watching you, a fond expression on his face. “Do you like it?”

“It perfect,” you decided. And it was.  

No one had ever gone the lengths like the Doctor was. You’d never even really been on a picnic on earth, where you were sure the idea stemmed from, unless it was one of those whole neighborhood picnics, or family gatherings. Never one as... romantic as this.  

Your cheeks flushed at the thought-- at the Doctor being romantic-- since he was usually all hyper and bold, running you ragged on various adventures. He had his sweet and tender moments, of course, when he’d come to your aid, or put himself in harm’s way for your sake, but there was just something so... genuinely sweet about this.  

About him putting in the time and effort of organizing and making a picnic up for the two of you. The thought that had gone into it, when he could’ve just told you it was close to dinner time and you would’ve stood to leave the TARDIS doorway, shutting the doors behind you.  

“Good,” the Doctor flashed a grin, digging different food items out of the basket to show you the selection. There were basics, like earth sandwiches and snack items like chips and cookies—a few fruits and vegetables that had been cut down to bite sized pieces for easy eating.

A good selection of the foods you’d brought into the TARDIS after your latest trip to earth.  

As interesting as space foods, and the kind of things the Doctor liked were, you still liked to stick with what you knew. There was always an off chance something could make you sick, or even be poisonous to humans, so earth food was usually the way to go. Plus, the Doctor didn’t mind occasional trips to earth for you to pick up earth food.  

Then there were other snacks from other planets—various berries and vegetables that you’d tried along the way and liked, as well as some snacks the Doctor liked that you wouldn’t try. Somethings just didn’t look very appealing to an earthling.  

It was all so carefully constructed, put together with you at mind. From the sandwiches, to the snacks he’d selected for you (your go to snacks when you were hungry), even to the food from different planets that you liked.  

“You made sandwiches,” you mumbled out, looking at the plate of triangle sandwiches. They were made exactly the way you liked them, down to the smallest details. The Doctor had never made you sandwiches before. He’d never really made you anything food wise, just since you had such vast different tastes in foods—much less earth foods.

“I did,” he gave a hum of agreement, pawing through the snacks he’d brought, before pulling out your favorite type of drink, “earth-y, isn’t it? It’s what you usually have on picnics, right?”

“Yeah,” you blinked shyly before shaking your head, “I mean, I think? I’ve never... No one really does picnics anymore—Not like this, I mean... Not, like, as a date, I guess?”  

“Oh?” the Doctor tilted his head. “You humans always seemed so proud of your picnics.”

“It’s just easier to go out to dinner, or catch a movie now,” you shrugged, playing with your fingers nervously, “but, wow, this is... it’s perfect, Doctor. Really perfect.”

“I just thought you should eat,” the man gave you a small smile, “I know it’s been busy these last few days, and you just looked so content out here tonight... Didn’t want to disturb it.”

You opened your mouth the reply, but the Doctor beat you to it, “anyways, sandwich?” He offered you the plate of sandwiches, to which you took one without speaking. The Doctor grabbed his own off the pile and took a bite.

“I’m never sure about your earth food,” the Doctor mumbled after swallowing his bite, “I barely branch out further than the occasional holiday dinner I get invited too, but these sandwiches are really good.”

You eyed him for a second before taking your own bite. It was really good. It tasted just like you’d made it, but you knew you hadn’t. You actually wondered when he’d managed to slip away to prepare this meal.  

“You did a good job,” you told him, taking another bite. The Doctor gave you a wide grin before you looked back out at the world around you. You finished off your sandwich, just looking at the stars that gleamed around you.  

It was quiet, but you didn’t mind. You were both just enjoying the view around you, and the company beside you. You didn’t have to be talking, it was a comfortable silence.  

You ate together, not really talking more than occasional comment about something being good. It was nice. You didn’t get a lot of time with the Doctor like this, where nothing was happening, or going to happen. Where he wasn’t distracted by one thing or another, because as much as he rarely had a plan, he was always busy.  

“You should try this,” the Doctor waved a piece of some kind of fruit in front of you, “it’s a delicacy on the planet Sontar. Those little guys love this stuff, and for good reason too. It might be one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. You won’t believe what I had to go through to get it.”

“What’s it taste like?” You wrinkled your nose at the fruit held a couple inches from your face. It smelt sweet, almost familiar, but not all the same.

“A mix of earth fruits really,” the Doctor gave a shrug, as he inched the fruit towards your lips, “c’mon, (Y/N) trust me. It’s very good, and perfectly fine. You’re not the first human to be wary of this stuff. You’ll love it though.”

His voice dropped, and his smile widened as you looked towards him, unsure even though it had clearly been tested by other companions before you. The thought of biting into the fruit held in the Doctor’s fingers had you shyly staring at man’s fingers and not letting your eyes wonder back to his face.  

You gave in after a second though, leaning forwards to taste the fruit. His hand didn’t waver as you finally bit a small piece off, biting the cubed fruit from his fingers as a blush crawled up your cheeks.  

You leaned back, chewing slowly and trying to understand the mix of tastes in your mouth. It didn’t taste bad or anything, it was just overwhelming. It was good, you decided. The Doctor’s eyes were on you again, watching and waiting for your opinion.  

“So?” he prompted with a crooked smile, “how is it?”

“Good,” you told him, ducking your attention from his charming glance, “really good. Can I have more?”

“Of course,” the man grinned. He paused briefly, between moving to offer you the bowl. His eyes flickered up to your face for a moment before he slowly lowered the bowl back into his lap, and instead offered you another bite, testing his luck.

He raised one eyebrow, almost challenging you to repeat your actions and let him feed you more fruit. Your cheeks lit up once more in embarrassment as you leaned over the basket in a bold move to bite the fruit again. The Doctor watched your movements, smile fond.  

You didn’t hate being fed by the Doctor, in fact it was nice.  

When you leaned back, the Doctor popped the remained of the piece you’d bitten into his mouth, grinning at you. You giggled at him, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

You ate a bit more of the Sontaran fruit before you both called it quits on the picnic. You were full. You made it through a lot of the food, but the Doctor had definitely overpacked. You tidied up, putting everything back in the basket to be sorted back into the cupboards and fridge later, before flipping the backet closed again.  

The Doctor pushed the basket back so it sat just behind the two of you, before sliding closer to you and settling at you side, like he had earlier that night. You looked towards him with a smile, but he wasn’t looking at you now, or, he wasn’t until he felt your gaze on him, “what?”

“Thank you,” you told him, looking down at his knee, just barely touching your own. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget this it was... amazing.”

“It was my pleasure,” the Doctor told you softly, “I’m so glad you enjoyed this.”

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you carefully into his side. You let your head fall against his chest as you looked out around you. It hadn’t changed, but it was just as beautiful.  

“It really is beautiful,” you sighed fondly, not bothering to look up at the Doctor. His arm tightened around you, holding you against his side. You melted into the embrace, just enjoying this one night of perfection, since you were sure things would return to their usual hecticness tomorrow.

But you wouldn’t want it any other way.  

“Yeah,” the man’s voice broke the quiet atmosphere after a few seconds of silent contemplation. He spoke softly, agreeing with you distractedly. “Indeed, it is.”

But the Doctor wasn’t looking out at the starry universe—no, his eyes were trained on you.

<><><><>

Another beautiful gif just to give you an idea of what I pictured while writing this, I stumbled upon this gif and thought it was perfect! Credit to the creator once more!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and I hope you enjoyed! As always, if it wasn’t what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again! Wishing everyone a very Happy New Year (RIP to me saying that way too late).

[orsuliya]

Alright! Time for part 3 of married!Awu/XQ headcanons. This time? It’s all about the children!

There is nothing unplanned about Awu’s second pregnancy. The subject of children comes up again not long after Awu reunites with Xiao Qi after the so-called death of the latter. Their days in Ningshuo may be filled with the hustle and bustle of preparing for the upcoming march on the capital, but evenings and nights? Those are for holding each other close in search of comfort and reassurance. If not for that, Awu would scarcely have the strength to let Xiao Qi out of her eyesight during those first days and weeks.

During one of those quiet Ningshuo evenings Awu finally breaks. She has had to be strong for so long, all the while half-believing she would never be allowed the luxury of being weak in her husband’s arms again, that even now it takes time for her to let go and simply cry. When tears finally do come out, so do all of Awu’s past fears, leaving her one by one in an unstoppable torrent. Fear for those reliant on her, for the orphaned country and for her own fate; all of those are carefully listened to and soothed with words, silent affection and sense of complete togetherness.

One of those fears? Had you died, had you truly left me alone, what would I have of you for all the years to come? she asks, her voice muffled, her face pressed into her husband’s neck. There is a good reason why she was prepared to die after exacting her revenge. Far too many sleepless nights in Hulan had been spent imagining the long, dreary years of her widowhood. Ten, twenty, thirty years of loneliness, seeing her nephews and nieces being born and then growing up, with nothing, not even her husband’s sword to put in that bloody chapel; would that have been her fate?

She hits him – not too hard, but hard enough for it to be more than a playful tap – when he says that, in time, she would remarry and find happiness again. Would you?! she demands angrily, then softens, once she reads the answer in his eyes. A man should take responsibility from the beginning to the end. Not even a bloody sword to be mounted on the family altar, she laughs tiredly. You owe me, my Prince Yuzhang, you owe me and I shall be your most merciless creditor. Give me a child with your smile, one with your hands and eyes, she demands, pressing insistent kisses to that smile, to those hands and eyes, and then and only then will I consider myself satisfied.

He would, you know, he would have given her a dozen children if that were only possible, but surely she must know that it is not, it can never be in this lifetime. Awu can have anything else for the payment of his debt; he knows he owes her and will give her all that she may wish for that she does not already own. She wants children? Fine, she may have all the orphans in Ningshuo for the raising, if that will bring her joy. But he doesn’t, can never regret putting her health above all else and would give her five more miracle flowers if he had to…

Yes, Awu finally shuts her husband up, unable to take any more of this lethal sincerity. How? Well, the exact method I shall leave to your imagination, but the gist of it is as follows: Xiao Qi is not getting off that easily. They can and will have that child. How? Well, Awu might have plotted with Doctor Shen towards that goal and it will work this time. Maybe not now, maybe it will take another few months or years of fiery needles, but it’s not like they are in hurry. There is no way Awu will agree to have a child in the middle of a civil war, so her husband should really get on with restoring peace in all Cheng. Not right now! In the morning should be soon enough.

____________________________________

It does take some time, first to restore peace and then for Awu to actually get pregnant. In the meantime, she does take all the orphans in Ningshuo as an advance on that debt, not to mention their first son and daughter, Xiaohe and Qinzhi.

Doctor Shen, who – struck with a sudden premonition – had moved to Ningshuo among much grumbling and trembling over the contents of his priceless apothecary, is rewarded with the dubious honour of playing witness to Xiao Qi’s complete meltdown. The first thing our brave general does upon hearing of his wife’s pregnancy is to hug her and refuse to let go for a good while, not that she protests. The second thing? He panics like he’s never panicked before. Doctor Shen comes upon his noble patron, well, not hyperventilating, we’re talking about Xiao Qi here, remember. But certainly in throes of a good old anxiety attack. It’s… an experience for the good doctor, that’s for sure.

Thankfully Doctor Shen manages to talk Xiao Qi out of his wildest ideas. Like, for example, shutting Awu in her rooms in the middle of Ningshuo Fortress and standing guard over her until the baby is born. Yeah, that was not Xiao Qi’s proudest moment. Doctor Shen promises not to tell anyone of this sudden bout of unreasonable behaviour and keeps his word… for about three days, when he gladly throws Xiao Qi under the bus in order to ensure Awu’s full compliance with his own, medically justified safety measures.

Mind you, even Doctor Shen cannot work miracles, which he comes to bitterly regret in those next few months. Panicked Xiao Qi and worried Turnip Wang make for a truly hellish duo and Ningshuo soon experiences a steady trickle of accomplished doctors from the capital. Some of them have clearly been dragged out of their comfortable practices under duress, for others it’s quite an adventure. The latter soon find themselves put to work; no use in simply standing around and deliberating over a stunningly healthy woman when there are actual patients in need to be seen to!

____________________________________

Awu considers Xiao Qi’s debt fully repaid the moment she sees her son smile for the first time. Xiao Qi, an overachiever that he is, doesn’t quite agree… and a few years later they try for another child; this time it’s a daughter. One - as Xiao Qi likes to brag - as beautiful as her mother and isn’t it lucky that he has an army fit to guard the greatest treasures in all Cheng? Awu thinks that it would serve him right should Treasure the Younger marry an officer of that very army in the future. She doesn’t, by the way, but that is an entirely different story.

The children are named Yunshuo and Yunning, which is a reason of much good-natured teasing. Even among the children themselves. Yunning, once she grows to an age when she starts to assert her dominance, insists that really, her brother should listen to her in all things. He may be older in years, that much is true, but Ning always comes before Shuo, everybody knows that!

Jinruo’s words come true after all: Xiao Yunning is Awu’s tiny copy, only, according to Awu herself, twice as bossy and confident. Xiao Qi never questions this claim, at least not out loud, but Uncle Asu has no such qualms and immediately provides a good half-dozen stories to that effect. Now, Yunning has every chance to grow up spoiled with a mother who applauds her strong character, a father who might seem strict, yet folds like wet paper at the first sight of a trembling lip and a whole bunch of playmates only too easily coaxed into following her commands. And she very well might have... if not for one Hu Yao (who is alive and you won’t convince me otherwise, ha!). The younger Hu, a true Ningshuo legend, enjoys great authority among recruits and veterans both; she proves a match for a head-strong girl like Yunning, although only barely. No, Hu Yao’s pupil doesn’t become a general in her own right, choosing another path instead… but she keeps up with her training in the years to come.

Xiao Yunshuo, affectionately called Xiao Xiao, is no warrior in the making, being of a rather gentle disposition, something that he never grows out of, for all that this gentle disposition later turns out to hide a character of pure steel. Oh, make no mistake, Yunshuo is perfectly competent with weapons and on horseback, but it is not something that comes naturally to him, nor does he find much joy in fighting. This becomes blatantly obvious once he starts advanced training. Every child under Awu’s care is taught enough to be able to defend themselves or know when to run away, but nobody is forced to persist with military training, should they not wish to. Yunshuo persists all the same, making continuous progress. It’s only natural that he does: he’s rather frighteningly smart, that boy, and he works hard.

A bit too hard, as it turns out. Xiao Qi becomes suspicious of his son’s behaviour and makes sure to ‘accidentally’ come upon one of Yunshuo’s solitary and completely unsanctioned training sessions. Why, he asks and becomes rather angry once the truth starts coming out. No, not with Yunshuo. With himself, for not preventing this whole issue from existing in the first place. See, Yunshuo thinks it shameful that he, the firstborn and only son of Prince Yuzhang, the greatest general and warrior Cheng has had for generations, will never be able to become a worthy successor to his famous father. No, nobody has said anything, but Yunshuo is not stupid, he knows what he is and is not capable of!

Xiao Qi takes a minute to consider his next words carefully. In the end, he tells the truth: when he was a bit older that Yunshuo is now, he had no valuable skills, no education, no family and no real hope for the future. Signing up for an army was pretty much the easiest choice to make for somebody who didn’t really have all that much to live for. Killing people? Is not that difficult. All it takes is a good sharpened sword and some basic training. Learning to protect people, well, that was a bit harder; took Xiao Qi some years and a lot grief and pain to master that. Everything else – building a true home, making peace for yourself and everybody else, and creating a lasting, better future? That’s Awu’s forte and her work. There is no shame in having different skills, explains Xiao Qi. Find what you do best and make sure that it is of use to somebody. That’s it. Whatever Yunshuo’s skills, as long as at the end of the day he is be ready to use them to protect what is dear to him, he will be a warrior in his father’s eyes.

Xiao Yunshuo takes his father’s words to heart and, when the time comes, relays them to his own children. He never becomes a one man army, for all that he takes care not to let his skill with weapons go to rust. He does, however, become a great lord and statesman, and a startlingly brilliant strategist to boot; his advice is greatly appreciated by his older brother, the brave General Xiao Xiaohe… as well as by his brother-in-law, the Emperor of Cheng himself.

In Ningshuo, despite all his merits and great dignity, Xiao Yunshuo stays Xiao Xiao long, long after becoming a father himself.

____________________________________

Xiao Yunning is widely held by the ministers of Cheng to be the cause for at least a quarter of their grey hair. And all because of one rather tiny, if rather infamous deed. Okay, maybe not that tiny… But it is not Yunning’s fault that Xiao Qi had made such an impression on a bunch of delicate noblemen over twenty years earlier!

Once His Imperial Majesty, one Ma Jing, successfully negotiates puberty, it becomes a matter of national importance to supply him with a wife of appropriate station, character, beauty and fertility, the first and the last being the most important, of course. The true war over who will become the Empress of Cheng does not start until His Imperial Majesty becomes a fully-grown man; that is not until the Prime Minister’s eldest daughter comes of age. Having another Wang Empress is seen as inevitable by many; others are rather eager to see the streak of Wang Empresses die a final death. The idea of courting a foreign princess gets briefly thrown around and then soundly rejected. It’s a pity that all of His Majesty’s marriageable cousins with even a drop of Ma blood have the same family name, says somebody who sounds suspiciously like a true Classist Wei. For a moment there is complete silence as the thoughts of everyone present turn to the one cousin who is neither a Ma or a Wang.

See, Xiao Qi and Awu could easily make their daughter an Empress… if they thought that it would make her happy. They have nothing against Jing’er, why, he’s a beloved nephew to them both and they have taken a good measure of his character during the time he spent in Ningshuo, which amounts to a good couple of years. If they were to be honest, Yunning could use a husband this good-natured and conciliatory, and Jing’er would do well with an Empress of Yunning’s strength of character. There is also the matter of a rather touching childhood crush… but since Yunning herself has nothing but derogatory words for this whole imperial marriage mart mess, there is nothing to be done. Nothing to be done at all, as Xiao Qi quite readily assures his brother-in-law, adding that being an Empress is not an easy fate and one that he would not wish on anybody. Asu, long-used to not truly understanding Xiao Qi’s ambitions or rather the lack thereof, takes this assurance on its merits and goes back to planning his own daughter’s imperial wedding.

Rather surprisingly it’s Jing’er who becomes the greatest obstacle to Asu’s dynastic plans. Somehow he never really says no… but no mercenary father can ever pin him long enough to force him to say yes to any of the myriad of candidates. This stand-off lasts for some time, to Xiao Qi’s quiet amusement and Turnip’s frustration. Awu, on the other hand, becomes rather pensive, although she refuses to share her suspicions with anybody. It’s not like she has any proof…

...until her daughter provides her with all the proof she could have ever wished for.

The day another group of potential candidates is to be presented at court, Xiao Yunning pulls a Xiao Qi, causing many a minister to relieve their old trauma. Yes, she marches into the throne room accompanied by six of her companions, most of which do rather poorly at concealing weapons under their dresses. Yes, she climbs the stairs without as much as a by-your-leave. Yes, she does all of that while wearing clothing in a colour appropriate for the occasion. In this case? Wedding red. The main difference is that Ma Jing is a much wiser Emperor than Ma Zitan and grants Yunning’s petition immediately and with good grace.

The reason why Yunning did what she did, leaving Jing’er with no choice but to accept her suit? Well, that childhood crush might have been rather more than a crush. Really, Yunning would have had it in the bag the day of her coming-of-age ceremony, were His Imperial Majesty not such a noble bore. I cannot condemn you to carry this burden with me before you really know what you want, he said, every word disgustingly noble and self-sacrificial. You are not somebody who can be caged, so go and spread your wings and I shall wait for you for as long as it takes, he offered in a rather suspiciously bland tone of voice. Really, one could almost believe that Jing’er actually bought into that silly rumour that Xiao Qi requires every prospective son-in-law to fight him with live steel. Which, by the way, is not true. He only ever fought two rather persistent young lordlings who couldn’t understand that Qinzhi’s no means no.

Everything ends rather well for all interested parties, although Turnip keeps grumbling about having an unfairly deceitful brother-in-law. Awu quickly shuts him down, if only to get in her own portion of shameless teasing. See, if Xiao Qi wanted to avoid such situations, then he should have given his children a better example. This quickly devolves into a round of Yuzhang-style teasing, which prompts a stark realization from Xiao Yunning. She might be the Empress-to-be now, but even being thrice an Empress would still give her no power to stop her parents from being a pair of embarrassing old people in love. Jing’er, ever the conciliator, shows his diplomatic skill by proposing that she might have her revenge… by being one half of a pair of embarrassing young people in love.

The Wang Princess of that generation, a rather lovely and wise young woman by the name of Wang Xu, is not all that sad about losing a chance at the throne. Why, her tastes were always rather specific and in general ran more to generals than delicate young nobles. Now, this Xiao Xiaohe looks like an interesting specimen and certainly worthy of taking a closer look, should one be in-market for a pet general of one’s own...

[slashingdisneypasta]

Poly!Laughing Jack x Fem!Reader x Offenderman

Title: Punish Me // The Odd Throuple

Plot: Y/N gets shot in the neck and through the chest and is rushed to get help at Slender Mansion. This is your boyfriends’ reactions to you being seriously hurt. 

Notes:

I wrote most of this on my phone on the train so I’m sorry probably lots of errors!! My autocorrect likes to correct properly spelled words to the wrongly spelled versions I’ve accidentally typed in the past. 😒

Why, oh why, are my fluffiest works always with these two bastards??? Comfort characters...

Warnings: Well, you get shot because Offender raped someone. So, decide with that how you will. Sexual references also

~~~

"This is for my daughter, you f-freaks!" The man behind you is sobbing now. When he caught you it was just an itchy fidget, now that Offender and L.J are here he's falling apart.

The gun pressed into the crook of your neck moves and shifts with his ugly, heartbroken cries and all you can think is; I'm sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry, even as your body goes cold and you shiver with fear at having such a lethal weapon pressed to your skin at the hand of someone so unstable at the moment. You didn't even do anything to this man, but you feel his pain and feel sick anyway.

I'm so, so sorry.

You can only imagine what he means. What happened to his daughter...

"Who's your daughter!?" Offender growls, desperately. And uselessly. There's no way he remembers, there's no way he could help now. He doesn't ask for the names, and he certainly doesn't bother to listen if they tell him. He's just pleading. He doesn't know what else he could do. Just don't shoot her lethally. Miss the heart, he chants in his head. He can get you to Slender then but if you're dead... there's just nothing he can do. Its out of his power and he feels useless.

And this is his fault.

L.J doesn't respond at all, standing beside him. His eyes are on you, watching carefully. Communicating through his eyes. He hasn't moved since he realised the situation, struck completely still. He doesn't know what to do. If he fights for you, and he loses you still? ... He doesn't know if he could do that.

And then again, if you're killed anyway and he did nothing, it'll still hurt... but then at least he would have plausible deniability. He can... he can live like that. The alternative is worse. Far, far worse, to him.

And more then that, he doesn't care about bartering with this man.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes- losing a few tears you didn't know, through the shock, where glazing your eyes.

"You... fucker... took her before it was time, and now... " The man takes a deep breath in, making it cold on your neck where his face is hidden. "I'm going to take something you care about."

"WAIT- "

BANG.

A searing hot pain tears through your skin, everywhere as the bullet rips your insides open and a terrible scream rips out of your throat, more from shock, as the man lets your body go and gravity drags you down, nearly knocking your head on the concrete. Before that could happen though, Offender teleports and catches you.

As your sight dapples away into blackness and L.J's cries for you to say something peter out, you feel the familiar terrible whooshing of teleportation just before the world goes

completely, 

and

   utterly,

           still.

___TIME SKIP___

"Y/N... Y/N... I see your eyelids flickering, are you awake? Or experiencing some kind of terrible neural damage I need to get Slender for?" Claws slide under your neck, against the pillow and sit there cool against your skin as L.J shifts his body, and his chair, more impossibly close to your bed. "Lollipop~ You have to give me a sign, I'm not a real doctor."

"You... play one... pretty well. D-don't you?" You whisper, voice croaky and hard to utilise. Your eyelids are heavy, too, but you manage to peak at him for a moment. He opens his mouth in a sharp grin, relieved.

"So no amnesia then??" He exclaims, excitedly.

"Was that," Coughing into the air, because your body is still too weak to really move, you taste metal on your tongue. "A possibility???"

"Well, Slender didn't say it in those words, but... I feel like it was unspoken."

Knitting your eyebrows together, you start to worry about your condition yourself, before a weight like a folder or a clipboard drops on the bed by your feet and Slender heaves a great sigh.

"You were worried." He says sternly, assuredly to L.J. "You were in no danger of enduring inflicted amnesia, Y/N. L.J just has a wild imagination due to a birth defect called stupidity. Unfortunately there's nothing we can do about that."

L.J says nothing in response to that for a moment, and you can imagine him just looking deadpanned at the taller creature. "You're toad, Slender."

"Whatever. However, Y/N, while you do not have amnesia you do have a number of other inflicted injuries and because of that I am suggesting you stay here where you can properly be watched until they're manageable for you to deal with on your own." He pauses, apparently tired of our presence already. "That is unless, of course, you want to rip your many stitches or contract any kind of infectious disease because you trusted the man that thought you had amnesia, and the one that fully trusts in the 'psychologically healing' properties of copious amounts of alcohol," Oh, so that's where Offender is. "to take care of you medically."

"Um," Your voice is high, unsure quite how to respond. Slender and his bluntness does this to you a lot. "No, that's okay? Thanks for offering for me to stay?"

Another cough forces itself suddenly out of your throat from the use of your voice, as your throat is so dry - How long were you asleep?? - and, this time, L.J extends his free arm to gently cover your mouth like you would with your own if you could move right now. As soon as you're done, he retracts his long, loong arm and your stomach squirms pleasantly about how cute and affectionate that was for him.

He takes a deep breath. "Very good. I'm leaving. Offender can read your chart when he gets in here." Then, like a light, the heavy atmosphere that Slender carries with him everywhere disappears from the room and you feel L.J stretch and snatch the folder object at the end of your bed.

"I can read this, thanks." With one hand to hold the thing, L.J peers at it for a moment... for so long, in fact, that you risk your energy to peak at him again just see him use his pointed nose to slide the page up to look at the next one... Before he frisbee-throwing the folder back to the end of the bed and returning his attention fully back to you, crossing one elongated, stripy leg over the other. "Never mind. What’s with this family? They make up there own language?"

Grinning at his antics like you always do, your eyelids fall shut again and you feel the relief of not using so much energy. "I think medical charts everywhere are like that."

"So the whole medical profession started there own code, then. Bastards."

A chuckle escapes you, as you're slipping closer to sleep. "L.J, I think I'm... gonna... go back to sleep... for a bit... "

"You do that. I'll make up jokes."

"Okie, yay... "

As you fall back into the welcoming arms of sleep, L.J puts his free claws to work removing the crinkles out in your bed spread and nightgown- unable to stay still. Unable to leave you alone.

He has to stay with you.

___TIME SKIP___

The next time you open your eyes, Offender has joined L.J, but instead of sitting in a chair he leans sloppily on the wall by the door, evidently still feeling the effects of his 'psychological healing' with the alcohol.

This time you're able to open your eyes a crack and keep them open like that. You’re able to to see the room now, which is basically just like any other bedroom in Slender mansion with hard wood floors and dark walls, except there’s an IV beside you and sheets on the floor.

Again, L.J's keen eye catches your consciousness first. "You're awake again!"

"Hi." You grin in greeting, noticing L.J's claws are on your tummy now, the one on his thumb rubbing up and down a small area.

Offender comes forward immediately and leans close to your face over your bed, draping an arm over the bed frame to hold himself up. "You good there, squirt?" Wincing at the nickname, because it does not come from Finding Nemo, you shift your head on the pillow in a nod. He chuckles.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Well, you're not, but that's my girl." He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling back and picking up the medical chart on hi way back to the wall. Blowing air out of his cheeks in reaction to the information, he leans back on the wall again and starts reading the 'code'. "Now, lets see what's wrong with ya... "

L.J and you sit - and lay, - at attention as he lists and explains what it says. Some of the things that come out of his mouth do scare you, but honestly most of it was just stuff you expected. You still may be in a bit of shock, to be honest, but at the moment you're just more concerned with the fact that Offender really can read it! Unless he's making it all up, in which case, boo.

When he's done, you're all quiet for a moment, taking in how long that took - and therefore how much damage was really done by that bullet, - before L.J, of course- well, doesn't lift your spirits exactly, but changes the course of the worry in the room, for sure. And that's why you and Offender love him. Well, one of the many reasons. Raising his pointer claw off your stomach, he announces, "I call conspiracy!!"

Offender puts down the chart and crosses his arms, bemused at him. "What this time?"

"These charts. You say this is English??" L.J squints, looking between your and his boyfriend.

"Yeah."

"I don’t buy it. I'm British and I tried to read that, and it was total gibberish. Tell him, Y/N."

"He is British and he did try to read it." You concur.

L.J nods at Offender. "Yep."

"And he did fail." You grin, this time.

L.J nods again, without shame. "Yep."

"Well... " Offender leans menacingly forward, towards L.J who leans back despite them being feet away from each other, then grins. "I read it just fine."

"I feel like I'm being gaslighted."

"Oh jeez." You grin, turning your head on your pillow to set L.J with a look, amused by him.

"Oh, and- Your brother called me stupid. Again. You need to fight for my honour." L.J informs Offender, swivelling in his seat to properly face him, while still holding me.

"Oh, you poor victim, you." Offender shifts, shaking his head amusedly at L.J. "Tut, tut, tut. What a cruel world."

L.J ignores that obvious sarcasm. "Yes, precisely. Oh woe is me, and all that. Hop to it." Nodding to the door promptly, L.J turns back to me. A little grin plays at his black lips.

"Oh sure thing." Offender shakes his head again, before pushing off the wall and straddling the arm of L.J's chair instead. "Anyway, the only honour I care about right now is Y/N's." L.J seems to agree with that, eyes going steely and lips curling at the memory of why you're all in this room in the first place. "So, what'll it be, beautiful? I'm the reason you got hit, so, by Vikings oath I've vowed to endure whatever punishment you decide is necessary." You open your mouth immediately to laugh him off, but he makes no movement like he usually would if he were joking. Instead, he quickly adds, "Go on."

"... hold on, you're German. Aren't Vikings Scandinavian?-"

"Shut up, clown man; I'm old. I've been places. Get with the program."

Rolling your eyes, unintentionally fondly at the two, you look around the room. "Um," Unbelievably croaky, and painfully, you ask. "Get me a cup of water?"

"Oh!-" While Offender quickly teleports off to get you that, L.J just absentmindedly brushes some hair out of your face. Offender comes back in a young moment and they both help you sit up. L.J helps guide you by your hands, while Offender stuffs pillows securely at the base of your back.

"Thanks, guys," You accept the glass of water with a gracious smile. "Thank you."

As you're taking a sip, Offender returns to his spot on the arm of L.J's chair and watches you expectantly, heavily. Swallowing the water, you raise a curious brow. "So? My punishment?"

You nearly choke on the water, but instead take a moment to compose yourself. "Wha- I thought that was the punishment!"

"Getting water??"

"I didn't say please!"

L.J clicks his finger claws, lifting them off you for a moment to point and nod in agreement at Offender. "Right, that's true. She didn't. 'S not her fault you have no sensitivity towards good manners." He turns back to you as Offender makes a perturbed shape with his mouth. "You have lovely manners."

"Thank you!"

"Of course dearest."

"Wha- I- F- hah???" As you and L.J have your 'Old British Sit Com' moment as Offender would always refer to it from then on, he stutters and looks between the two of you confusedly. "Hold on, hold on stop that this instant-" Reaching over and waiving a hand between the two of you as you were looking sweetly at each other, he successfully snaps you both out of it. "Neither of you are taking this seriously. You," He points his finger at L.J, who narrows his eyes at the offending appendage. Probably thinking 'And your manners, are terrible.'. "Shoosh. And you, “ L.J presses his lips firmly closed as Offender turns his stern finger to you, making you sit up straighter at attention. “Come on, baby.” He slips to his knees as you start to fully understand his desperation right now and grips the side of your mattress. His hat slips to cover the top of his face and your eyes flicker to L.J’s, which are also sheened in a very covered layer of worry, and back. “Punish me. It’s my fault. You got bandages and tubes and... fucking bloodstains. I did this. And in order for our relationship to continue healthily you need to get back at me somehow. So come on, one more time I’m gonna say it so L.J if you say something about masochism I will throw you out the window; Y/N, punish me. Goddamnit, please.”

“Offender,” You start in a scolding voice, pushing yourself off the pillows with difficulty, wincing at the pain shooting through your collar bones. When L.J’s eyes flicker over you and your pained features, because, while Offender is clearly perfectly fine with showing his affections, L.J certainly is not. You flash him an ‘its fine’ smile as you push your legs off the end of the bed. “I’m not that hurt! And I’m certainly not upset with you in any way, its not necessary!” 

“You were shot, Y/N!” 

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes, as if the infliction wasn't a big deal. Like there are more important things, which in the moment you do think there are in Offender’s outlook at the moment. It honestly scares you. It isn't him. Dropping your hands on his shoulders, you dip your head to look seriously at him. “Its not that bad! I mean, I think Slender woulda told me if I was gonna die, don’t you think? And you read the chart! You know I’ll be okay.” 

“... Yeah, he would've. And then the little punk woulda left the room chuckling."

"Oooh," L.J leans back in his chair, thumb claw between his teeth as he imagines how it would have gone, arctic blues glazed over with imagination. "He totally would... "

Nodding in agreement, you kneed your thumbs into Offender shoulders comfortingly. "Yep. Same thing for if I wasn't going to recover at all. Don't you think?"

"Y/Nnnn,” He groans, resisting. 

“I’ll, be, fine.” Leaning down, you press your forehead to his- breath hitching when you feel your stitches stretching but forcing your self to stay put for a moment. “Don’t feel so guilty. Or, at least try- its an odd colour on you.” 

“Mm.” Offender’s mouth twists like he tasted something gross. Then he sighs, the muscles in his shoulders easing. “Oh, what, you think a good old ‘belligerent’s more me?”

“Maybe a gentle ‘creepy’, at most.” L.J pats his back, breaking out of his dream world. You grin and nod. 

“That work for you?” 

“We can try it on for size.” 

L.J snorts. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Offender turns and looks up at him, a bemused smile on his face. Still reluctant to let it go, but trying. “What? Does BEN need to re- try on his used condom hat now, too??” 

With that, Offender and you dissolve into barks of laughter, you hiding your pink face in your hands while L.J just shrugs, holding up his hands like ‘Aren't I right though??’. “What?? Its one of your charms!” He adds, a corner of his dark mouth fighting to point up even as he looks confusedly at your shaking bodies. 

“OKAY,” Slender pushes the door open then, interrupting and dropping his shoulders slowly. “I’ve heard enough. It time for Y/N to return to sleep- what. What is she doing out of bed? Put her back. And then, both of you, can get out of my house! ... and take your unfortunate analogies with you.” Shoulders slumping, he then mutters, “... I’ll never be able to look at that hat again without thinking about that... “  

Offender heaves his own sigh, so like his brother in the moment as he pushes himself up and guides you back into a comfortable laying position, muttering himself. “You would think, after so... so, many centuries with that man, I would be immune to his annoyingness... But no.” 

Snickering, L.J leans back in his chair, reaching down into the pockets of his pants as you start to feel exhaustion wash over you again. Slender���s right, you do need more sleep... 

Slender just opens the door more fully and gestures towards it for his brother and Laughing Jack. Slowly, he drawls the next word. “Out?” 

“G’night sweetheart.” Offender gives you another kiss on the forehead, completely ignoring his brother this time. “Just keep thinking about that punishment, okay? Just... keep it in mind.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you wish Offender would let it go... but nod anyway, for his sake. Not like you actually will think about it at all. L.J brushes your hair back after he steps back and taps your forehead gently with his thumb. 

“Sweet dreams lollipop!” 

Then L.J returns to his chair and Offender drags up a chair beside him for himself and Slender grips the door tighter. “Oh, no. No no no. Get, out, of my home.” 

Slowly L.J looks over at Slender, then squishing his butt down further into the chair pointedly, and Offender props his legs up on the end of your bed. You chuckle, and close your eyes. Embarrassed by your weirdly good boyfriends.  They aren't perfect by any, a n y means, but they are pretty cool sometimes. You like them- and that's an understatement. 

“Aghhh, don’t think I’m bringing you dinner.” Slender lets up quickly, disinterested in putting up any fight and rolls his shoulders of you all, closing the door as he walks off. “Hooligans.” 

As you close your eyes, and pull the blankets up further over your body to your chin, relaxing into a resting, sleep exposed state Offender crosses his arms, setting in probably for a nap himself, with no other idea how to pass the silent time and L.J turns promptly to him, with a colourful but mostly black box in his hand. 

“Silent Uno??” 

[twinklysmiles]

Not a Word of This to Anyone! (Or: A Ticklish Spa Day)   Part 1: Pedicure

A Star Trek Tickle Fic

Fandom: Star Trek TOS / AOS Characters: Leonard Bones McCoy, James T. Kirk (McKirk at a stretch), Nyota Uhura, Christine Chapel  Warnings: Tickling  Word Count: 2,488

Summary: Kirk and McCoy get roped into joining Chapel and Uhura on a spa day, which turns out to be a rather ticklish experience. They seriously regret their decision as they helplessly suffer through a pedicure and a full body massage.

Inspired by this gif:  (although I can actually picture AOS Kirk and McCoy even better in this one)

“So, what are you up to today, girls?” Kirk asked Uhura and Chapel over breakfast in the luxurious hotel most of his crew had booked into for shore leave on this amazing recreation planet’s gorgeous “Earth Island”, a resort specifically designed to cater to human tastes and needs. They had certainly earned some real R&R after what they’d been through recently.

“Oh, we’re treating ourselves to a long overdue spa day, aren’t we?” Uhura beamed, glancing at Chapel and sighing contentedly. “Want to join us?”

“Where’s Spock?” McCoy cut in quickly, hoping to distract Kirk before he started to seriously consider Uhura’s suggestion. “Is he skipping breakfast today? I haven’t seen him yet.”

Knowing Jim, the doctor was afraid that the captain might actually take Uhura up on her offer, and he really didn’t want to have a spa day. The thought of having his body touched and prodded for a whole day made him uneasy. He was … sensitive.

“Spock, Scotty and Pavel already left for a conference on warp engineering or whatever,” Uhura replied, rolling her eyes at the idea of wasting precious shore leave time on something like that.

To McCoy’s regret, however, Chapel took up the spa day subject again.

“So, what’s your answer, Captain? Doctor? Are you coming with us? Treat yourselves to some pampering, too?”

“I don’t think that’s for us,” McCoy muttered, casting Kirk a glance that clearly said, ‘Don’t even think about it!’ Which, of course, only served to pique the captain’s interest even more.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Bones!” he exclaimed, giving McCoy his broadest grin. “I think that’s a splendid idea! We should definitely try it!”

“Oh, come on, Doctor,” Chapel chimed in. “You, of all people, seriously need to relax!”

“And I will,” McCoy insisted, “just not at a spa!”

“You’re not turning into a macho man, are you, Leonard?” Uhura teased, and the doctor knew that she had him. He just couldn't let her get away with an accusation like this.

“All right,” he grudgingly agreed, “maybe for a couple of hours. What are you starting with?”

“A pedicure,” Chapel smiled. “They’re so relaxing!”

“A pedicure?” McCoy gulped, sounding almost as horror-stricken as he felt. “How on earth can that be relaxing? I couldn't handle a pedicure, I’m far too…”

He broke off midsentence, catching himself just in time before giving away too much.

‘Ticklish!’ Chapel thought gleefully, silently completing the sentence.

That was why she’d suggested the pedicure in the first place. As a nurse, she knew a lot of intimate details about the crew members of the Enterprise, like people’s various tickle spots, for example, most of which were inevitably brought to light during physical exams. If a crew member was ticklish, Chapel probably knew it. And where, too. And she absolutely loved to exploit that knowledge a little, although no one would suspect.

McCoy, for example, was more than a little ticklish on the soles of his feet, as she’d found out when he’d sprained his ankle a while ago. Especially on his heels and the balls of his feet, which practically screamed for a little pedicure fun.

Chapel also knew that Kirk was seriously ticklish. He was incredibly sensitive on his belly. To the extent that she had to pin him down, his fingers desperately digging into her arms, whenever Dr. McCoy had to check his abdomen. She had no idea about the sensitivity of his feet, though. But she’d certainly like to find out.

“Well, let’s go!” Kirk threw his napkin on the table and got up. “Time’s a wastin’! There’s only so much shore leave left!”

McCoy shook his head at his friend’s enthusiasm, debating whether it was still possible for him to chicken out. But when he looked at the women’s challenging faces, he knew there was no way they’d ever let him live it down if he did. How he was supposed to live through a pedicure, however, he wasn’t so sure, either.

‘Dammit, I’ll somehow survive it,’ he thought, trying to convince himself.  After all, a lot of people got pedicures, and a lot of people were ticklish. Especially on their feet. Although maybe not as acutely as he was. He suppressed a shudder.

Besides, just like physicians, pedicurists were bound to be trained in how not to tickle, weren’t they? As a doctor, and being excruciatingly ticklish himself, he was always careful to make his touch as little ticklish as possible, always very attentive to any tell-tale reactions, and trying not to tickle his patients more than necessary.

‘Not so, Christine’, he thought wryly. Over the years, working with her, he’d almost got the impression that she actually enjoyed tickling patients, and rather liked to exploit tickle spots when she found them. He’d even wanted to talk to her about it several times, but found the issue too embarrassing. Too close to home. So, he’d contented himself with trying to keep her away from the more ticklish patients, at least the ones he knew of. Like Jim or Chekov.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Uhura and Chapel enjoyed themselves immensely, watching their friends having their pedicures. Like a lot of men, Jim and Leonard were clearly not used to having their feet touched, both of them quite obviously finding the procedure terribly ticklish, although dealing with it very differently.

While Kirk was just giggling away unashamedly, enjoying a good laugh and warning his pedicurist that he couldn't be held responsible for his reflexes and possible resulting injuries, if it tickled too much, as well as telling her that he didn’t think he could last all the way to the end, McCoy desperately tried to hide his growing distress, clearly deeply embarrassed about his ticklishness.

But Chapel guessed that his feet were way more ticklish than Kirk’s, and was pretty sure that he’d soon lose the fight. His lips pressed tightly together, his expression almost comically rigid, tears starting to spill from his eyes, he was a picture of ticklish agony.

No matter how hard he tried, the doctor couldn't hide what a harrowing ordeal this was for him. His spasming body treacherously betraying how the pedicurist’s ticklish touches were killing him. And she hadn’t even started on the serious scraping and scratching part, or used her super-weapon, the rotating pumice stone, yet.

Gripping the armrests of his chair so hard, his knuckles went completely white, McCoy did his best to keep a straight face and not show how unbearably it tickled. But the pedicurist, of course, immediately noticed his predicament and, exchanging a mischievous glance with her colleague working on Kirk’s feet, made her touches extra ticklish until the doctor finally burst out laughing and just couldn't stop again.

By the time the two pedicurists were done with their respective ‘victims’ first foot, the two Starfleet officers were a ticklish mess. Even Kirk’s laughter seemed forced now, and poor McCoy had nearly fallen off his chair several times, what with all his writhing and bucking.

And while the captain had issued a continuous, if incoherent stream of half-hearted pleas for mercy, which he’d seemed to get more serious about when his pedicurist had started to work his soles over with her spinning pumice stone, the doctor had been helpless to get a single word out from the moment he’d first erupted with laughter.

McCoy had been bouncing up and down in his seat like mad, shaking his head from side to side, holding on to the armrests for dear life, and visibly just hanging on by a thread, trying to somehow get through this excruciatingly ticklish ordeal.

Chapel couldn't tear her eyes away, mesmerised by how incredibly ticklish the doctor’s feet really were, and even Uhura was clearly enjoying the show.

Kirk regained his breath shortly after his pedicurist had finished his first foot, but it took McCoy almost a minute to calm down and stop giggling.

oOoOoOoOoOo

“Enough,” the doctor finally gasped, “one foot is enough for life.”

“Oh, don’t be an infant!” Chapel and Uhura said almost at the same time, then looked at each other and burst out laughing while McCoy gave them his best scowl.

“I’ve had more ticklish patients, believe me,” his pedicurist said, grinning widely, and McCoy blushed furiously, hating to have his embarrassing ticklishness so bluntly addressed. Then she cheekily added, “At least I didn’t have to strap you down!”, the mere idea almost giving the doctor a heart attack. “But usually,” she continued with a reassuring smile that could or could not have been sincere, “once you’ve made it through your first foot, the second one isn’t so bad anymore. Your feet just need some time to get used to the sensation.”

McCoy was just about to politely decline, much rather enduring Uhura’s and Chapel’s eternal teasing than going through such atrocious tickling again, when Kirk challenged him, “Come on, Bones, you’re tougher than that! If I can take it, so can you. Besides, we haven’t laughed nearly enough lately. And you always say “laughter is the best medicine”, don’t you?”

“I never say that,” the doctor grumbled, but when he saw three pairs of eyes wickedly smirking at him, he put his second foot back up on the footrest with a sigh. So, his friends had discovered his greatest, most shameful weakness. He’d show them that he could take this like a man.

Only he couldn't. Not even for a second. He regretted his foolish decision the moment the pedicurist put her first tickle tool to use on his sensitive sole, causing him to instantly double over and dissolve into uncontrollable laughter once more.

The sensation was so unbearably ticklish, he couldn't even beg her to stop again, the air being forced out of his lungs as he helplessly fell into silent laughter. It most certainly didn’t tickle any less than it had on the other foot. In fact, it seemed to tickle even worse. Pure, unadulterated tickle hell.

Just the pedicurist’s grip on his toes, as she trimmed and filed his nails, was insanely ticklish, but the torture multiplied, when she started scraping his calloused heels, and again, when she set to work on the horrendously sensitive balls of his feet. He wriggled around in his chair, covering his face with his hands and laughing harder than he could ever remember.

McCoy vaguely noticed Kirk howling with laughter next to him, too, but his considerations whether or not Jim’s other foot also seemed to be more ticklish, were cruelly cut short when his pedicurist turned on this diabolical pumice device, clearly invented by the devil himself with the sole purpose to tickle him to death.

Suffering through the longest, and certainly most humiliating minutes of his life, he didn’t even care what a ridiculous and sorry sight he must be anymore. All he cared about was for this horrendously ticklish nightmare to finally be over.

One might almost think the pedicurist was prolonging his ordeal on purpose, but then again, she might just be doing her job, without any intention to torture him. After all, his feet had always been unspeakably ticklish. Definitely his second most ticklish spot.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Watching the men writhe and wriggle, doubled up with laughter over a simple pedicure, was greatly entertaining for Uhura and Chapel. And when Uhura asked her friend in a whisper, “Do you think they’re tickling them deliberately?” the nurse just nodded with a huge grin on her face.

They certainly were. Not only were they still going strong, while the women’s feet were long finished, but even though Chapel knew that McCoy’s feet were horribly ticklish, and had anticipated the spinning pumice stones to seriously torment him, this was way more intense than your average pedicure.

She almost pitied Kirk and the doctor. Almost. It was just too much fun to see the strong and proud men being tickled out of their minds. For a tickle fiend like Chapel, this was almost too good to be true. But Uhura didn’t seem to mind too much, either, Christine thought wryly. But then, of course, it was “only tickling”, right?

When the men’s ordeal was finally over, and they slowly recovered, wiping the tears off their faces, McCoy taking considerably longer to regain his breath and his composure than Kirk, Chapel couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that the fun was over again already. Therefore, the pedicurists’ unexpected next words totally made her day.

“You poor guys!” McCoy’s pedicurist sweetly smiled at both men, the sympathy on her face appearing almost genuine. “You really have it bad, don’t you? To make up for all the suffering you’ve just gone through, we’d like to offer you a full body massage at half-price, if you’re interested.”

Kirk and McCoy immediately declined, clearly just wanting to get the hell out of this torture chamber, hopping off their chairs as soon as their tormentors released their feet, and hastily putting on their socks and shoes. But when one of the pedicurists grinned and gave Chapel and Uhura a mischievous wink, the two women instantly got the message and started talking their friends into accepting the offer.

“This is one of the most famous spas in the whole galaxy!” Uhura gushed. “You’re so lucky!”

“She’s right, Doctor! Captain?” Chapel agreed. “They’re always fully booked. People pay good money to even get a spot, and you’re being offered one right away. And at a 50% discount, too! You’d be crazy not to take it!”

oOoOoOoOoOo

“Thanks, but no, thanks,” McCoy croaked, his voice still hoarse from shrieking with laughter, a panicked look creeping onto his face, as he recognised all the signs of Kirk actually contemplating the offer.

“Well, I could certainly use a good, relaxing massage now,” the captain smiled at his pretty pedicurist. “Come on, Bones! You’ve been pretty tense, too, lately!”

Of course, Jim would fall for a lovely face and a suggestive smile, the doctor thought angrily. And maybe he should. Just because McCoy was too damn ticklish, why shouldn’t his friend enjoy a good massage?

“I’ll pass,” he said, trying to sound amiably despite his feet still tingling and twitching irritatingly. “You just go ahead, and I’ll find something else to do today.”

“Oh, come on, Bones, give it a chance!” the captain all but whined, “Just one little massage, and then we’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

McCoy heaved a sigh. Who could resist Jim’s puppy dog eyes? And when Chapel smirked at him and suggested, “You could always ask for your feet to be excluded!” it became a matter of pride. This was ridiculous. Surely, he could get a massage without being tickled half to death!

And practically already feeling the soothing effects of strong hands kneading the muscles in his tight neck and back, he grudgingly nodded and followed Kirk and the two pedicurists across the beautifully kept lawn of the resort to the massage parlour.

Part 2: Full Body Massage

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing of Star Trek

[kashi-prompts]

Flowers For A Shinobi

Chapter 11: Soup

Word Count: 4,670

Pairing: Kakashi x OFC

Previous Chapter ❀  Archive of Our Own Link  ❀  

A/N: This is fuffy, right? lol

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"I understand," Kakashi nodded, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, picking at the fabric at the inside of his trousers. He remained stagnant with his usual aloof disposition, appearing as though he were disinterested in the conversation between himself and the Hokage. Within him, something stirred uneasily. 

"So you'll do it then?" Tsunade questioned pointedly. 

"Yes, I'll do it." 

"Good," Tsunade looked back down at her paperwork, content with the elite-jonin's tepid response. Her fingers hastily returned to endorsing the stack of documents collecting dust on her desk, her blond pigtail sweeping across her shoulder as she leaned over.

"She's being discharged from the hospital today. I want you to start training her as soon as possible. She's rested enough." 

"And if she doesn't want to be a shinobi?" 

"Convince her with that charm of yours, Hatake," Tsunade pointed her pen at him, "she has so much potential. It would be a shame to waste it on a flower shop." 

Kakashi scratched the back of his head stiffly, pressing the locks of his hair back down to the nape of his neck. Under his mask, his lips pursed, thinking of a counter-argument to present. 

"What are you waiting for?" She questioned, cocking an eyebrow as she looked back up at him. "Go talk to her." 

Giving up with a respective bow, Kakashi turned on his heel and headed for the door.

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Ayame combed her fingers through her hair, crudely attempting to make it presentable as she stared out her hospital window. The mid-morning sun drifted upwards in the sky, the clouds shielding the village selfishly from its warmth.  

Instinctively, her fingers began weaving the strands of her hair into a braid. The act quickly reminded her of when she was younger, where her mother would sit her down and tenderly begin folding the strands to create a tight plait of red locks. 

"It's too tight," Ayame would whine, tugging at the braid for her mother to remedy it. 

"Pain is beauty," her mother would tell her indifferently, "You need to keep it out of your face while you work! It'll loosen as the day goes on." 

It never did loosen, despite her mother's words. Tying off her braid now, she missed having someone else care for her as her mother had. The loneliness of this new village lessened as the years went on, but the underlying longing for her original home crept up on her ever so often. Not so much for the village as it was now, but the way she remembered it. Or maybe it was the people. Or perhaps it wasn't even that - but just the overall sense of duty she had there. At least she was doing something with herself.

Even so, she had left Rōtasuagekure for a reason, and quite sincerely, she reflected, she could never see herself leaving Konoha. Especially now. 

"Hana-chan?" a petite nurse asked, popping her head into the small, sterile room. 

"Yes?" 

"I have your discharge paperwork," the nurse offered. She took a few steps in, observing Ayame already dressed in the same clothes she had come in with. 

"Do I just need to sign?" 

"Yes, here and here," the nurse indicated, "the doctor said you have recovered well. She really didn't have much to say otherwise." 

"I'm feeling much better. Thank you for all your support," Ayame smiled, handing the nurse the pen and clipboard back. 

Walking out of the hospital after two weeks left Ayame feeling strange. Almost as though her life had changed, never to return to the way it was before her admission. Her experience on the journey, or mission, rather, resonated in her mind. Looking back, she may not have felt it then, but it was certainly thrilling to be a part of something like that. She thought of the shinobi in the hospital, pleased that she had done something to help them. She examined her feelings towards helping them, remembering how she used to be one of Rōtasuagekure herbalist medics. 

The slight chill in the air from two weeks ago had been replaced with a heavy, thick mist that hardly ever reveals itself except for after a cool shower on a hot day. Instantly, the moisture stuck to her skin as she began walking in the direction of her apartment. She breathed deeply, letting the dewy scent on each blade of grass mingle in her nose pleasingly. It was good to be out finally and feeling better. 

"Oi, Ayame-chan," she heard. 

Her heel skidded against the pavement at the sound of the familiar dull voice. As she turned around, her jade-green eyes settling on a tired-looking masked man. The memory of an unconscious body in the basement of her childhood home suddenly left her reeling. She blinked, watching him walk towards her with his hands that always seemed to be situated deep in the pockets of his uniform. 

"Kakashi-san," she smiled, "how are you?" 

"I am well," he stopped in front of her, looking down at her from his usual height. His cheekbones lifted in a small smile. A beat passed as her eyes traveled over the worn look in his eye. 

"How are you feeling?" Ayame asked, folding her hands together at her waist. 

"I'm doing alright," Kakashi admitted, "but more importantly, how are you feeling? Were you just discharged from the hospital? 

"I was," Ayame gestured in the direction of the hospital, "I'm feeling better. Thank you. I heard the shinobi are doing better? And the flowers were delivered to Lady Hokage on time." 

Kakashi nodded, smiling to himself, "yes. They're all doing much better. Thanks to you." 

"I couldn't have done any of that without you," Ayame admitted, shaking her head. "I'm so grateful to have been a part of it." 

"You handled your own," Kakashi emphasized assuredly. 

Looking over, Kakashi smiled stiffly at her, clearly seeming unsure of himself. Seeing this, Ayame looked away, a few spring leaves floating through the breeze around her. 

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you while you were recovering. I was recuperating myself."

The memory of a pink-haired shinobi Ayame had seen before with Ino crossed her mind at his words. 

"Kakashi-sensei carried you back to the village," a blur of pink hair had told Ayame. Her bright green eyes had smiled down at her as she drew Ayame's blood one morning. "You're lucky to be alive. He's a really strong shinobi. He's on the mend as well, but he'll probably be better before you are." 

"I heard," she frowned, turning to look back at him. "I'm glad you're doing better, though. But I honestly must apologize for having to have you carry me all the way back here. You should have just left me there. I did my duty." 

A light laugh bubbled up in her chest at her own snide comment. His single eye glanced back down at her with a soft gaze and shook his head, "I would have never left you there. You're worth more than that."

The breeze picked up again. Sakura blossoms dancing in the wind around the two of them. The pink tones of their petals were imitative of the fleeting rouge on her freckled cheeks. Noticing, Kakashi shuffled his sandaled foot and looked down the road. 

"Were you heading somewhere?" Kakashi asked suddenly, his head tilted. 

"I was just heading home," Ayame told him, composing herself. 

"Mind if I join?" Kakashi asked, looking down at her with his one eye. A smile crept over her lips that she tried desperately to tame. 

"Sure." 

Turning on her heel, the two began heading away from Konoha's hospital, passed the mid-afternoon rush of citizens scurrying to grab something to eat before returning to work for the rest of their day. Ayame watched them walk by; the lingering eyes of a few young girls fell on the tall shinobi next to her. She wondered fleetingly if he had a girlfriend or some romantic interest on the side already. Surely, he would have mentioned it. Or an indicator would have arisen at some point. 

But then again, Ayame was still unsure. She hadn't even thought of it until this moment. She glanced over at him, his profile straight ahead as they walked together. 

She really didn't know much about him at all, she mused. It seemed as though he was still a stranger to her, despite this strange gravity pulling them towards each other. The brief time they had spent together felt more influential than just a day or two of ongoing conversations while they traveled. 

"What do you think about living here?" the silver-haired jonin asked abruptly, glancing over at Ayame as she waved kindly to a little girl with a new bouquet from Yamanaka's. 

"I love it here," Ayame shared, her voice a hum as she traced a finger along the wooden siding of the Dango shop. "Although I miss home sometimes."

"I can imagine. This wasn't your first home."

"But it is my home," Ayame vowed quietly. The Dango shop owner gave them a wide, knowing grin, offering a few sample pieces of Dango on a skewer. Ayame smiled thankfully, taking the skewer and popping the round treat in her mouth happily. 

"Would you like one?" She offered, extending the skewer to him. 

"I'm not much of a sweets man," the jonin admitted, lifting a hand to decline. "Plus, the medication they have me on for the amatoxins for my liver makes me pretty queasy lately. I haven't been able to eat much anyway." 

Ayame frowned, "I'm sorry to hear that." 

"I'll live," he shrugged, watching her toss the empty skewer in a passing garbage bin. 

"I would like to talk to you about something,"  Kakashi said a few beats later. Next to him, Ayame felt a cold shock to her chest. She glanced over at him, his expression seemingly difficult to read with a mask and headband that covered the majority of his face. Despite such, she noticed his dark eye glance over at her to assess her reaction.  

"Oh?" Ayame stammered through a chuckle. 

"Yes," he nodded, his tone serious, "what do you think it means to be a shinobi?"

Ayame narrowed her eyebrows, looking over at him quizically. She wondered if this was some joke he was playing, asking her this question to see if she understood the importance of his role. But when she looked over at him, his profile remained straight ahead and composed. She, too, had been thinking of this while lying in the hospital bed.  

"Well," Ayame began, folding her arms against the breeze as they walked, "I suppose a shinobi's only resolve is to protect the village and those who live within it." 

"That's true," he nodded, pausing, "I agree. What do you think about that?"

"About shinobi protecting the village? I think it's important and valuable. Economically, the infrastructure of the village depends on the careers of shinobi to make money. But it is clearly more than that. A shinobi's occupation is valuable to the next generation to have leaders look up to and be protected by. Working for the Yamanaka clan has undoubtedly shed light on all this for me. But I would say, this past month especially strung the understandings together fluently."

She was rambling. When she let out a breath, she expected him to laugh at her wordy response. But when she looked over, he only nodded his head, seemingly appreciative of her narrative. 

She continued, "And I'm sure you've created priceless bonds while working. I think, as a shinobi or kunoichi, you first begin learning to hone your own personal, individual skills. But I think it is more of a community effort than an individualistic standpoint. I mean, the village wouldn't run without you all. And those men would have died it not for you. So, as a shinobi, you have to put unity - and self-sacrifice - first. It doesn't seem to ever be about you. But about those around you. To learn to protect everything at any cost. For the sake of others." 

"Any cost?" 

Ayame looked over at him analytically, unsure of his question. "Yes, with your life." 

"Right," Kakashi nodded distantly, his mind far beyond their wanderings over the wooden bridge. Ayame stopped, leaning over the overpass to look down. She noticed a few boys fishing below and stood to watch them for a moment. Kakashi stopped as well, looking up at the clouds above as he came up next to her.

"What made you ask me that?" Ayame questioned, looking over at him. 

"I have some special orders," Kakashi said finally, turning to look at her. His elbow rested on the railing. The breeze swept across the side of his face, pushing the thick tufts of grey into his eyes. 

Ayame quirked her eyebrow and smirked, "To quiz me on my patriotism to Konoha?"

"Not like that," Kakashi laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm just curious."  

She stilled for a moment, feeling the wind in her ringing ears as she looked back down at the boys below. One had caught a red skipper, joyfully showing it off to his friend. The other cheered, dropping his wooden rod in celebration. 

"It has been discussed that you have the potential to be quite a powerful kunoichi. The way you handled yourself against Daichi was clear evidence. I would say you have the ability to overcome the injury to your chakra. The more you train, the stronger you'll become."  

"I don't think so," Ayame turned away suddenly, leaning over the railing and folding her fingers. What did she want? Her two desires mingled together, mudding themselves in her mind. 

"I don't know, actually. It's not as though I grew up using my jutsu as you all did. I don't even have the proper academy background as even the youngest shinobi in this village have." 

"Do you want to know what I think?" Ayame looked over at him again. His eyebrows shifted to his hairline, and the fabric around his mouth bunched into a smirk. 

"I suppose you're going to tell me anyway, huh?" Ayame chuckled easily. 

"I'm not forcing you to do anything," Kakashi began, leaning his elbow against the railing to look at her. "No one is. But you seem to appreciate the dedication and work it takes to become a shinobi. And what it stands for. I would give my life for those in the village. And everything about the way you handled yourself on this last mission tells me you would do the same, even if you don't know it yet." 

Ayame nodded her head, looking out at the skipping fish. Another breeze brushed her flyaways from her hairline. 

"I know. I understand. So I take it your orders are to recruit me?"

"No," Kakashi hesitated, "my orders are to train you." 

"Train me?" Ayame turned, looking at him surprised and skeptical. 

"If you want," Kakashi lifted his hands defensively with a smile. "I am a fairly notable sensei." 

Ayame laughed again tenderly, placing her chin in her hand as she looked out over the horizon. She could feel his eyes on her, his elbow leaning coolly over the railing to face her. 

"Can I think about it?" Ayame asked, glancing at him. 

"Of course. I don't expect you to drop your life as it is and join a risky occupation like mine."

"I'm not sure if I want to join your cult," Ayame farced, smirking at him from the side. She heard him chuckle next to her, looking out at the river below. The breathy sounds of his laughter she had evoked caused a ripple of satisfaction to fade slowly into her skin. She smiled, sighing. 

Ayame stood up straight, turning to him. The wind rattled his hair more, transforming it into more of a chaotic mess than it already was. She folded her hands at her waist, considering his last comment. She had thought about it endlessly in the previous two weeks, so his sudden request to have her train with him certainly shocked her. 

"Don't doubt yourself," he added unexpectedly. She scoffed playfully, feigning confidence and turning her head away to hide her burning ears. When she looked back, his eye had transformed into a crescent moon, a genuine smile dancing across his cheekbones. 

"I wouldn't have agreed to any of this if I didn't think there was a reasonable chance of you being a skilled kunoichi," Kakashi admitted, "trust me on that. You've proven yourself."

Ayame folded her arms again, another gust of sakura blooms rushing past them. She watched them land in the river, floating past the boys who returned to fishing for their next meal. 

"Thank you," Ayame said finally. "I will think about it. And let you know." 

Kakashi nodded his head, a smile hidden under the fabric of his mask. 

"Well, I'm right over there," he pointed, a round blue apartment complex across the river. "If you need anything, just come here. I can see the bridge from my window." 

As he walked around her, Ayame looked over at the tiny apartment building and considered his response. Just come here. 

"And Ayame?"  

She turned, surprised he was still even near her as her mind had begun to wander. Walking backward, he shoved his hands back in his pockets. 

"Although I'm not exactly happy with the way you administered the antidote in the cache, thank you for saving me." 

Her top teeth tried to tame the grin that crept across her lips. She rolled her eyes at him, "had I known you'd try to recruit me, I should have left you there."  

"I doubt it," he winked. 

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Beyond the gates of Konoha, deep within the Land of Lotus' muddied grounds, a pair of green eyes stared sharply at his work. Three vials of a glowing blue aura dripped slowly from a tube that traveled into the cracked ceiling above. He stacked two fists on top of one another on the desk, placing his chin in them to watch the liquid. 

Drip, drip, drip.

The contents of the vials barely grew. The man grumbled to himself, shaking his head in disgust. 

"I can't believe Daichi's gone," the green-eyed man sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. The room was no larger than a closet, with a metal desk placed in front of the man. A foul stench enveloped the room. 

 In a bed next to him, a woman with locks of blond, grimy hair laid placid against the pillow, throwing an apple in the air and catching it. 

"Doesn't matter anymore," the girl said curtly, "He was arrogant and careless. He should have just ransacked the place, gotten the scroll, and came back."

"I should have never trusted him," the man said gruffly, "I should have just done it myself." 

"Then she would have seen you," the blond pointed out, taking a bite of the apple. 

"I don't care," the man stood, his soiled feet kicking the chair in disgust. "Better than her getting that scroll. I should have gotten the scroll first and then deployed everything. How senseless I am. Now look at this; we barely have anything." 

He gestured to the vials on the chrome table and sighed heavily. 

"Can't predict the future," the girl reminded him coolly with a mouth full of apple. 

"But we can change it." 

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The dark side of the moon tilted in the sky, its crescent shadow illuminating a golden sickle that threw off surprising light. The heavy breeze from earlier that day remained. The humidity level elevated.

A tuft of silver hair laid under a comforter embroidered with green shuriken. One eye remained open, staring at the tiled ceiling above. His stomach growled uncomfortably, causing a sigh to escape from him. Lifting a hand, the jonin slid it through his hair restlessly. 

What had he done? How could he have recruited this girl to become a shinobi when it wasn't even her choice in the first place. Things were changing, indeed. Not everyone was destined to be a shinobi from birth. 

A strong sense of guilt mounted in his chest, making the origin of his nausea unclear as to whether it was from his medication or the nagging feeling that he could be responsible for another lost person in this world if she were to enlist. It wasn't that he didn't trust himself to train her properly. But the what-if certainly stirred a sense of anxiety in him that was very unlike him. 

Everyone he knew and cared for was a shinobi. Why did it bother him now? 

Get ahold of yourself, he groaned to himself. It’s not your responsibility and you have orders. 

Another sigh escaped from his lips as he swung the blanket off of him. In the window behind his bed, he observed the heavy moon in the sky, its contents decorating the pavement and river below in a soft glow. A breeze flew in his cracked window, tickling his nose with a familiar scent. A mixture of the grime from the river and the pleasant aroma of lavender blended in his overly sensitive nose. His eyebrows came together in confusion. 

A lot of things smell of flowers, he reminded himself coarsely. 

And yet, standing on the bridge was Ayame, her arms bundled tightly around a white sack that she held close to her chest. Frowning, he watched her for a moment, unsure if he was seeing her correctly. But the unmistakable scent of her freshly cleaned and braided hair caused his stomach to knot. Was she here for him? Or was she just going for a walk? At this time of night?  

Looking over at the clock, Kakashi noted the time. It was nearly 11:00, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing. Regardless of if she was here for him or not, he decided to see if she was alright. Blinking once more, he watched her lean against the bridge with the bundle in her hands. Her head tilted towards his building. 

She is here for me.

The breeze picked up, and the sakura flowers from earlier drifted across her view as her eyes unmistakably scanned his blue building. 

Throwing his jacket and sandals on, he quickly flew down the steps and out the door of his apartment building. This may not be the perfect time to tell her, but he had to. He couldn't let her join. He couldn't bear to watch an innocent person become a warrior. Of course, she had potential, but ultimately it should be her decision to join. He had tried to keep his words neutral, but the dialogue in his head from earlier twisted itself to make him believe he could have skewed her decision. 

Get. ahold. of. yourself, he told himself angrily. 

His swift gait quickly replaced itself with the usual casual stride his legs typically paced themselves at. Absently, he shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged forward over the bridge towards the young girl. 

"Ayame?" 

Turning her head, he caught another intoxicating wif of the scented shampoo that clung to her hair. She smiled immediately as her eyes rested on him as he walked towards her. 

"Kakashi-san," she greeted, the audible noise of his name on her tongue sounded like a content sigh. The sound tickled his already queasy stomach. 

"Why are you out so late?" he asked quizzically, leaning against the railing himself. He glanced down at the bundle against her chest, and she smiled, standing up. 

"I made you some soup," she stood, pushing a container wrapped in a white cloth forward. He looked down, thankful for the darkness surrounding them as he felt blood rush to his cheeks.

He tilted his head quizzically, unsure of how to respond to the kind gesture. 

"You said you were nauseous," she explained quickly, waiting for him to take the parcel. "So I pulled together some soup when I got home. It's an old recipe my grandmother used to make for us when we were sick. It always helped me feel better. I hope it hel-"

"Thank you," Kakashi replied gratefully, taking the bundle. It was still warm in his hands. The gesture stunned him, and the warmth of the soup in his hands radiated through his entire body. Momentarily, he forgot what he had intended to tell her. 

"I appreciate this," he held the parcel up, the silence growing awkward as he collected his thoughts. 

"You're welcome," Ayame smiled at him. 

Were her cheeks red as well? Oh god, he thought. He couldn't do this. 

"Ayame, I wanted to talk to you about our conversation earlier," Kakashi began hesitantly. Her expression changed. 

"Yes, I wanted to speak with you as well."

"You first, then," he offered, shifting his weight to his other foot.

He expected her to say no. To say she didn't want to join and instead remain an anonymous citizen of Konoha, utilizing her Kekkei Genkai as a means of generating precious flowers for the Yamanaka Flower Shop. He expected her to say, "thank you for the offer, but I decline," and then to walk away from him, only to pass by him at different times on the street in the near future. 

"I think I'll do it," is what she told him instead. "I want to protect the village. I don't want anyone to go through what I went through or what those shinobi went through this week." 

Kakashi blinked, blindsided by this woman yet again in less than 5 minutes. 

"You do?" he asked, feeling his finger twitch nervously against his bundle of soup. 

"I was thinking about it while I was hospitalized, to be honest with you," she admitted, looking away, "I didn't want to mention it. I also didn't think it was a possibility. I figured you had to be born here or something. But you said you had orders?"

Kakashi nodded, looking above her head as he processed her words. The image of his dream crossed his mind. The uncomfortable feeling of not being in control crept up his spine. He shook his head, composing himself. 

"I do," he confessed with a nod, "from the Hokage." 

Ayame blinked, clearly taken aback by his words. "The Hokage wants me to join her shinobi army?" She asked incredulously, her voice teetering on laughter. 

Kakashi let his bones relax as she laughed, "she said you have potential." 

Ayame paused, folding her arms loosely around her torso, "well, that's the highest compliment I've ever received. But what was it that you want to talk about?"

"Oh," he shrugged, "It's nothing. I just - as long as you are comfortable and understand-" 

"I understand," she interrupted. He narrowed his eyebrows, surprised again by her definite tone. Her eyes glistened as she stared back at him. 

Realizing, she replied, "I've weighed the pros and cons of it for two weeks in a hospital bed. I know what you are referring to. A shinobi's life cannot be easy. But I wouldn't say yes if I didn't think it was worth it. I couldn't protect my brother or my family. So I want to protect Konoha."

She waited for his response, her eyes tracing the line of his mask that hugged his cheekbones. 

A smile crept over his lips as he bobbed his silver head in a nod, seemingly content with her response. Crickets sang in the brush below them, filling the void of silence. Her response eased the tension in his shoulders as he looked back down at her. 

"Then we start tomorrow," he told her abruptly. "Meet me here at dawn."

"But it's nearly 11:30!" she protested, her lips twitching as she guffawed at him. "That is barely enough time for a good night's sleep."

Kakashi turned on his heel, raising his eyebrows in delight at her reaction. He chuckled to himself as he held the soup against his chest, walking away. 

"Should have thought of that before you came here so late then!" 

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A/N: Hello all! Thank you for reading. It really means a lot to me. I have been in a pretty dark situation/headspace lately and planning out and writing this fic has really helped me. Watching your story come together and seeing people enjoy it is an immense confidence booster. So I appreciate you all. I’ll be writing prompts in between too! <3