#Hawke just wanted some fucking peace and safety

[fangsandfeels]

Oct 15 - Favorite DA2 companion

Are there any other options?

There is a reason why Bioware can't let Varric go since Dragon Age 2 (can't wait for DA:V writers to destroy his personality completely) - he is one of the most fleshed out characters and one of the greatest friends your Hawke could ever have. I keep forgetting there is option to be in Rivalry with him because - and I don't even want to try it.

I love everything about him: his design that show him completely rejecting all connections with Orzammar and embracing surface lifestyle fully, his personality, the way the charming storyteller and a spy network leader blend together seamlessly, the way he and Hawke are partners in business and their endeavors; the way Varric is always here to take care of every party member, building his own dynamic with each of them, giving them nicknames and knowing what's going on in their lives...

To me, his writing in DA2 will always be the peak companion writing.

[dead-boys-club]

†  shadows : hawks.

❥ scenario: nightmares and being sad over kei having no wings. ❥ no triggers; not rated. ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ not a request, just 'i can't fucking sleep' writing.

everything was peaceful, the faint bustle of the city from the open window mixing with the hum of the fan creating a perfect soundtrack to a summer night in the apartment. you and keigo had found peace and normalcy after the war, something he'd sought after for far too long. despite that peace, the memories never faded and continued to taunt you.

jolting awake, your heart was pounding and sweat soaked your skin, the fan no longer aiding in keeping you cool. the images from the nightmares lingered, flickering behind your eyes. the battlefield and bloodshed - it made you sick to your stomach. you glanced to the side to see keigo sleeping peacefully, features soft, his chest raising and falling. the sight of him without his wings twisted the knife deeper, nagging at your rage for a man who no longer existed. the loss of so many things, your own injuries and the loss of soft, bright red feathers - it all stood as stark reminders of the wars toll, a wave of too heavy emotions washing through you.

taking a breath to attempt calming yourself, you slide from the bed as careful as you could, spending a year honing your skills to not wake the lightest sleeper in the world. you hated the idea of waking him up. your steps were as light as you could manage, carrying you to the kitchen, the cold tiles keeping you anchored to reality. as you poured a glass of water, the tremble was obvious, making you take another deep breath. the water was nice but did next to nothing to wash away the mental horrors.

setting the glass down, tears began to blur your vision as you turned to lean back against the counter, knuckles white from the grip. you weren't sure what you thought it would do, like the hold on granite was going to stop you from sighing.

the war was long gone but the scars were still fresh; so tender it felt like they were going to rip open and weep crimson at any moment. tipping your head back, you close your eyes just to see your fiancé's wings, remembering the way he would wrap you up in them. it was like a safety cocoon that only the two of you could share and it was gone. your home, some of your friends and family - it was all gone. you couldn't ignore the fear you held for the fragility of the peace that you'd both found.

in every book, every movie and comic, the big bad always died but a new one followed. what if something or someone worse popped up? what if the peace you'd found would be in the palm of someone else's hand next week?

back in the bedroom, keigo began to shift around, shoulders rolling like they used to when he'd flex his wings, hands seeking out your frame that seemed to be missing. it took a second for him to realize you really were gone and it made him groan, eyes slowly opening. he blinked a couple of times, disoriented and trying to wake up a little quicker. sitting up, he pushed a hand through his hair and looked around, concerned gaze searching until he noticed the light from the kitchen spilling into the little hallway.

he wasted no time crawling out of bed, quiet in his trek to find you. what he found made his chest ache; you leaning against the counter, shaking with silent sobs. he approached with a gentle knock against the counter, not wanting to startle you.

'hey, love.. what's going on?' he asked softly, reaching to brush his fingers over your white knuckles, causing you to relax your hold a bit.

opening your eyes to look at him, new tears welled up. 'shit,' you mumbled, hands coming up to wipe away the tears frantically, 'i didn't mean to wake you.' looking away, you tried your best to collect yourself. 'just.. had another shitty nightmare.'

keigo's gaze softened before he was pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly. 'it's okay,' he assured, voice working like a balm for your frayed nerves. 'i'm here, it's okay.' he knew where your nightmares came from, where the look in your eyes came from; he knew you constantly wondered if things would be different had you been fighting by his side.

you almost hated how easily you crumbled into his hold, face pressing into his shoulder to hide from the world. your arms wound around him, one hand circling the opposite wrist to keep him close, a part of you scared he was going to fade away and you'd wake up. he was quiet, tracing and tapping gingerly at your lower back. 'i miss your wings..' you whispered, sniffling as another wave of sobs hit, gentler this time. 'i miss them so much.. a-and i'm so scared. this peace we've found? were we even supposed to find it..? what if.. it doesn't last?'

keigo didn't say anything at first, squeezing his eyes shut when he felt the ache in his jaw and burn in his eyes. 'i know, beautiful.. i miss them, too,' he replied, finding as much comfort in your hold as you found in his. he found that missing his wings was more based on using them with you rather than what they'd put him through. 'a lot happened, i know but.. we're together. we survived. we have each other.. that's what's most important.' he wasn't afraid to let a few tears fall, not with you, but you knew he also shared the same fears and trauma.

you nodded against his shoulder, his voice echoing through your head and offering the same comfort it always did. 'i just want the nightmares to end.. i'm so tired, kei.' you frowned to yourself. 'i hate myself for missing these things.. things that stood in the way of us getting to have this life and i hate that i'm constantly being reminded about everything... i - i get that it was bad. it was traumatizing for everyone, those poor kids especially, but it's.. it's over. why can't i just - just keep that peace? is this my punishment..?'

he hated hearing you use that word. punishment. he wasn't sure how to respond, not knowing the answers that you wanted to hear. keigo brought a hand up to guide you back and lift your chin, making you look at him. 'hey now.. you didn't do anything to be punished for and why would you hate yourself for that? we met because of those things. because i was a pro, because of my wings. whether it held us back or not.. all of those things were pivotal in us ending up here.'

he was doing his best to keep his voice steady, even as tears blurred his view of you. he didn't want to make it worse. 'the nightmares eventually stop, i promise.. it takes time to heal,' he sighed, shaking his head as he had to speak from experience, 'we've been through a lot of things, some worse than others. but, it gets better. until then, i'm going to be here - i'm here for you, we'll get through all of it. together. because we made it.'

taking in and letting out a deep breath, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. it felt like a weight lifted from your shoulders, leaving you sniffling with a thoughtful frown. part of you still wanted to cry but it felt silly. 'i don't know what i'd do without you.'

smiling, his eyes filled with love and determination, he reached to collect your hand in his own. 'i swear, you'll never have to find out. now, why don't we go back to bed, hm? try to get some rest.. i'll be here if the nightmares come back.'

you're reluctant to nod, letting him lead you back to the bedroom, hitting the light on the way. as you lie down together, keigo's arms wrap around you, his presence easing the anxiety of the possible nightmares waiting to plague your thoughts. you snuggle into his embrace, head against his chest.

'do you remember the first night you let me stay at your place?'

the question caught you off guard and you hummed in acknowledgement, wanting him to continue.

'your heater went out and it was freezing, could barely feel my feet,' he chuckled softly, bringing his hand up to smooth over your hair. 'it was the first time i got to sleep in your bed - i made fun of your sheets, you got mad at me. i'm also pretty sure you still have the shirt i wore?' he was hoping for an answer, even being playful, but he continued on. 'that night, it was really early on.. but, i was positive you weren't going anywhere. i knew that you'd always be here, with me. i wanted to think that the moment you looked at me and asked what the hell 'hawks' meant but, i was a little too excited over that.'

you laughed softly, shifting just enough to look up at him. you didn't say anything, just curious to see where he was going with his little impromptu story. you were just content to hear him talking as it worked to comfort your agitated brain waves.

'i remember pulling you close, pressing kisses by your ear, that little spot that makes you sigh.. it was the first night i wrapped you up in my wings and you told me how beautiful you thought they were. i don't know if you were really all that awake but you looked up at me and smiled, telling me that you hoped our kids got 'cute little wings', too.'

as you listened, you couldn't help the mental image that formed of your potential future kids. 'i remember that,' you finally spoke, nodding slightly, 'but, that's not possible now, so..'

as you trailed off, keigo smiled to himself, nosing softly at the top of your head. 'you're saying that because of the wings but my point is.. i think about that moment a lot. not because of the wings, not because of the comment.. but because you wanted to have kids with me. i know it wouldn't be the same, but don't you think it would be better to have kids in this stage of our lives? safer.. normal.'

it took a second for you to really understand what he was trying to say but you slowly got there, a soft smile forming on your features. you decided not to respond, letting it sit, knowing that your new life held plenty of perks. you would pout over the wings and cocoon hugs but at least you were both alive.. save. happy.

'i love you.' he whispered, pressing a few kisses around your crown. 'always will, dove.'

'i love you, too, kei.' the tension slowly melted away, content with being so close and your thoughts being replaced with kinder ones. having him by your side, you knew everything would be okay. the lingering shadows of the past slipped away from the time being and you reminded yourself that it was over; he was still there, so were you.

sleep was slow to claim you, clinging onto the warmth of keigo's love and promises, the comfort seeping into your bones. the future you were looking at was different from what the two of you had started with but it was still just as bright and perfect.

-----

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[inairbinad]

Lover's Lick

Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson, 2.4k words, also on ao3

Just a silly little first kiss idea that fell into my head because I accidentally typed Lover’s Lick instead of Lover’s Lake.

It was a blistering day in Hawkins. As a twisted way to enjoy it, the whole party decided to spend the day at Lover's Lake to continue celebrating what they’d dubbed “Dead Vecna Summer.”

Eddie wasn’t sure he was enjoying himself, yet, but Robin was determined to make sure everyone did.

“It’s called exposure therapy,” Robin explained as she lazily dragged her toes through the water from her seat on the dock. “If we all come here and have a good time, the positive association will start to make the bad shit less scary.”

“That doesn’t sound like a thing,” Mike countered, and Nancy leaned down and flicked a handful of water at him. She and Robin were near inseparable now, physically sitting shoulder to shoulder as they soaked up the sun, but also to the point where Nancy steadfastly defended everything Robin said. 

“It’s a thing, Wheeler,” Eddie drawled from his own beach towel. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was a thing or not, but Robin tended to know her shit, so he was going along with her plan for now. Eddie had no interest in actually getting in the water, but the shady little patch of grass he’d managed to lounge in was pleasant enough. “I just don’t know if it’s working.”

Admittedly, the whole experience was made more pleasant by the fact that no one else but their little group was around, staring them down or making accusations with their eyes. No one really wanted to spend much time at Lover's Lakep anymore, considering it had so recently been a crime scene. The quarry and the copious other lakes around Hawkins seemed delightful by comparison; but maybe that was just because no one else had Robin.

So far, only Dustin, El, and Will had been brave enough to venture into the water. They were off the shore a ways, splashing each other and giggling ferociously. The glee on their faces was helping to tamp down the lingering sense of dread that Eddie couldn’t quite shake, despite his best efforts.

Steve was also eyeing them warily, either watching like a hawk to make sure nothing weird went tickling at their ankles, or because he was fighting himself on whether he wanted to venture in after them.

Eddie suspected it was a little bit of both. 

“Fuck it,” Steve muttered to himself, before stripping his shirt off and wading into the lake. Eddie watched him go from behind the safety of his sunglasses, doing his best not to let his jaw go slack in the presence of a half dressed, sun kissed, and about to be wet Steve Harrington. 

Once Eddie finally tore his eyes away, he noticed Robin also looking after Steve—but her expression was a worried one. 

“Maybe we should play a game,” Eddie suggested with a slow grin. “For positivity, and whatnot.”

“Oooh, how about truth or dare?” Max recommended in a heartbeat, like she’d been waiting for an opportunity to present itself for her to suggest it. It instantly made Eddie wary of her intentions, but he shrugged and went along. If it made Max happy to wrangle some embarrassment out of her friends, she deserved as much. Plus, truth or dare never scared Eddie much, since he could always come up with something freakier to challenge people with than anyone ever dared him to do. And truths weren’t tricky at all, because he had a knack for making bullshit sound like the truth on the spot. 

They didn’t come around on his turn for a while, yet, so he let his gaze drift back across the strikingly serene water until it landed back on Steve. He started off indulging the kids in letting them dunk his head under water, but now he seemed to have found some semblance of peace, floating on his back with his eyes on the sky.

“Earth to Munson,” Lucas called out, cupping his hands around his mouth and deepening his voice for the intended bullhorn effect. “It’s your turn, so you can stop ogling Steve, now.”

“I don’t ogle, Sinclair,” Eddie said, pulling his best unaffected act. All the same, he dragged his eyes back to his immediate surroundings. “That’s much more your speed.” 

Lucas nervously glanced at Max, knowing exactly what Eddie was implying. Max seemed to know as well, because she came to Lucas’s defense in a snap. Eddie would’ve thought it was sweet, if he hadn’t just aimed the Max Cannon of Shit-Talking squarely in his direction. 

“You’re the one who looks like you want to lick Steve’s face half the time,” she said with a knowing smirk. Everyone else burst into laughter, and Eddie had no choice but to eat the shame of being completely obvious, to the point where even all the gremlins knew he had an enormous crush on Steve. 

“Only half the time?” Jonathan asked, and Argyle snorted. When even the two of them were helping to gang up on Eddie, he lost any hope of someone backing him up instead of roasting him further. He sighed in resignation.

Not long after all the Upside Down drama had concluded, Eddie and Robin had both teamed up and decided to come out to the whole group together. It was partly because Robin was sick of having to deny the allegations that she was in love with Steve, and partly because they both agreed it would let the group adjust so that there would be as little friction as possible when Will decided to follow suit. It turned out none of them really needed the extra education in love and acceptance and all that, though. The kids barely blinked an eye, and instead just shifted the allegations about being in love with Steve off of Robin and right onto Eddie. 

“Oh my god,” Lucas squealed, completely overcome with excitement for some reason. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Eddie as he said, “That’s your dare!”

“I didn’t even pick—” Eddie tried, but everyone was already turning to look at him with matching evil smiles. 

“Lick his face,” Max sat back, folding her arms against her chest in satisfaction. 

“That’s not my dare,” Eddie muttered, already knowing his fate was sealed. He had to lick Steve’s face, or suffer some unknowable torture for time eternal for being a chickenshit. 

“Lick his face,” everyone chorused, mercifully at a whisper so Steve wouldn’t hear. That didn’t make it any less mortifying.

“I swear to Christ—” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, doing his best to ignore them. He thought maybe he could withstand the torture option, instead.

“Lick his face,” they all repeated, chanting like they only worshiped at the alter of humiliating Eddie in the most creative ways possible. 

“You’re a bunch of heathens,” Eddie whined. 

“Lick his face!” They repeated, insistent and already getting louder. 

Eddie stared at Max in a silent plea, knowing she was the one who could most easily get everyone to lay off of him. This was her rodeo, and they both knew it. Max only stared back at him, unwavering. Eddie wondered if this was why she wanted to play truth or dare in the first place. 

“Fucking,” Eddie grumbled, pulling himself up off his towel and whipping his own shirt and sunglasses off. Then he stood there, clad in nothing but his Garfield swim trunks, and took a deep breath to steady himself. He’d done worse than this, surely. It would be mortifying, but he’d get over it. Steve had a good enough sense of humor that Eddie didn’t think he’d be pissed, at least. “Fine.”

Then he stomped off into the lake and started swimming out to Steve to a round of raucous cheers at his back.

The calamitous thing he was about to go do was enough to distract Eddie from the fact that he was swimming in this lake for the first time since the spring, and he wasn’t being dragged down to its depths, or watching something mind-bendingly terrifying, or being chased for his life as he did. An entirely different kind of doom was spelled out for him, sure, but at least Eddie was swimming towards someone as his fate unfurled before him.

Steve really did look beautiful, sprawled out on his back, droplets of water glistening on his skin in the sun. Eddie intentionally caused a lot of fuss as he swam, making waves and noise as he went, so as not to startle Steve out of his peaceful reverie too severely. 

Steve was already treading water, swimming upright again, by the time Eddie reached him. 

“Hey,” he said, soft and trusting even though he probably shouldn’t have been. 

“Hey,” Eddie echoed him, feeling the weight of fourteen sadistic eyes on his back. Once more, he was incredibly glad that no one else but their little group of friends was around to witness this. Eddie laughed, a desperate and delirious little sound that perfectly encapsulated how little he believed he was about to give in to peer pressure like all the preppy conformists he always made fun of.

“I’m sorry in advance,” Eddie said, and Steve tilted his head in confusion. 

“Huh—”

Eddie reached up and grabbed Steve’s chin, watching as the lake water pebbled across the planes of Steve’s face, and gently tipped it towards the side. Then he licked a stripe up Steve’s cheek, quick but thorough, just enough to savor the feel of Steve’s skin on his tongue for even a moment. 

Just as quickly as it’d begun, it was over, and Eddie turned around to face his jury, still idly judging from the dock. They broke out into another round of cheers and applause, so Eddie couldn’t help but thrust his arms up in triumph and give them a little show. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, then, and had to kick his feet quicker so he didn’t start sinking at the sensation of being spun around. Eddie braced himself, for a split second thinking he was gonna get punched. 

The next thing he felt was, in fact, a hand on his face, but it was as gentle of a touch as he could ever remember feeling. Eddie peeked one eye open, only to find Steve looking back at him, a small smile playing at his lips. Steve rubbed his thumb across Eddie’s cheek bone, then very deliberately dropped his eyes to Eddie’s lips.

“What are you doing, Stevie?” Eddie asked, wondering if he was dreaming all of a sudden.

“What was Robin rambling about earlier?” Steve murmured, the low rumble of humor in his chest. “Positive associations?” 

Eddie just nodded dumbly at him, entirely unsure if that was what Robin had said at all. 

“Well, here’s mine,” Steve said simply, then leaned in and kissed him. 

Even though the world had seemingly thudded to a stop, Eddie felt the way Steve’s lips moved against his own, firm and soft all at once, leaving him all tingly in an instant. Eddie didn’t know how, or why, but Steve was kissing him like he meant it—like he’d been ruminating on his desire to slot his lips between Eddie’s it for as long Eddie had been fantasizing about the same. 

The realization was a heady one, and Eddie heard a surprised little whimper escape his throat. Steve hummed happily in response, then slid the hand on Eddie’s cheek into his hair, getting a better grip so he could maneuver the angle of Eddie’s face to his liking.

Eddie thought he’d let Steve position him however the fuck he wanted as long as he kept kissing him. He grabbed on to Steve’s shoulders on instinct, dragging him in closer, with the water allowing Steve to flow into Eddie's arms with ease until their chests were pressed together. Steve gently nipped at Eddie’s bottom lip with his teeth, and Eddie rode that wave to bold new heights, daring to drag his tongue along the curve of Steve’s, perfect, delectable mouth. Steve's grip on Eddie's hair tightened, then he opened up and rolled his tongue against Eddie's own.

Eddie thought Lover’s Lake might actually be the best place on Earth.

It occurred to Eddie that he might sink and drown and die in that moment, since he completely forgot how to tread water when the only thing he could focus on was Steve’s mouth on his own, Steve’s hand in his hair, Steve kissing him so thoroughly that it was worth it if this was where he died after all. But Steve secured an arm around Eddie’s waist, holding them both aloft in the water, letting the sunshine dance across their shoulders and set their kisses surging with even more heat than their hold on each other could generate on its own. 

When they finally pulled apart, Eddie heard the distant roar of hooting and hollering coming at them from the dock and their friends nearby in the water, but he couldn’t do anything but stare at Steve, dumbstruck and with the taste of Steve's cherry lip balm still on his tongue.

“Was that okay?” Steve asked, looking worried now. 

Eddie thought the best way to chase that concern right off Steve’s pretty face was to kiss him again, and again, and again.

“Oh my god, get a room,” Dustin hollered at them after a moment, and Eddie relished the feel of Steve’s smile against his own. Eddie pulled back just enough to tilt his head in silent communication, doing his best not to get too distracted by how Steve’s lips were still swollen thanks to him.

“Definitely,” Steve nodded in agreement, and two of them took off after Dustin in perfect sync. By the time Dustin realized what he was in for, it was too late. He paddled away like a mad man, screeching and giggling all the way, but Steve was too fast. He gained on Dustin quickly, getting his arms around him just as Eddie caught up.

Together, they each smacked a sloppy kiss to one of Dustin’s cheeks, then dunked him underwater together. Dustin did his best to look affronted when he resurfaced, but his grin was unmistakable.

“It’s about time,” he muttered, then splashed Steve and Eddie both and quickly paddled away again. El and Will joined in the chase this time, and Eddie heard several splashes from the dock behind him as reinforcements came to unite in a game of ganging up on Henderson.

None of them ever really panicked about taking a dip in Lover's Lake after that.

[monst]

Da rules

     I go by Monst and I guess I’m writing again: I do read faster than I write so enjoy all the reblogs lol

I like the color orange it's not relevant, just thought I'd put it out there

Uh the bnha master list is definitely not up to date and needs a revamp (I will probably get to that eventually, someday...soon...) Speaking of it Here's the DC one

Here's the BHNA one.

Here's the Kinktober2024 one

Anyways if you're interested below is basically the what's what. Stick around if you want.

 Okay cool! Let’s get to it:

All characters for nsfw stuff are aged up 18+ (If you’re one of those (Can't separate reality from fiction/fantasy) then the unfollow/block buttons haven’t moved from their location and you are free to use them at your discretion )  

If you're a minor while I can't stop you from reading I will block you if I catch you interacting with any of my 18+ content posts. As a matter of fact for my peace of mind and your safety I would prefer you didn't reblog/comment on my sfw stuff too, they're are dangerous people on the internet so please understand and don't take it personally-Thanks💕

Moving on-

     I’m cool with: 

Requests- Hcs, Scenarios, thirst posts, Ya sending ideas and recommendations👀

For requests I might not get to all of them in a timely manner and I might not do some I’m not feeling. I write for F. Reader, GN. reader and M. Reader. Ships are cool too so you can request Character x character or poly reader- character x character x reader.-Genre: all of them tbh

I’m okay with dark content- (Dubcon, noncon, yandere, somno, etc.) and everything should be labeled appropriately. You can always ask that I tag something if it is missing. I do like a challenge/learning so even if I'm not personally into something I'll definitely give it a whirl (Kinks and or tropes)

Sfw- Fluff, angst basically anything that tickles my fancy and isn't risque or full on smut.

* In regards to requests the things I do fuck w might be prioritized 👉👈

    I’m not cool with: 

Scat

Underage/PDF

I'm generally cool w being uncomfortable, especially in regards to what I read or write whether it be by being grossed out or scared. I've always been ridiculously curious mostly to my determent but fiction is a safe way to explore shit so I'll give most things a fair shake in other words the sky's the limit but use your discernment⁉️

Extra:

Random shit- You telling me about your day, thoughts, opinions on whatever ig. ask for advice (trust me bro I got you✌️) or info dump👀 I love to chat. 

Music! Tell me what your listening too! (Yes I'm one of those 'I listen to everything' I need new stuff to listen to)

Also! I miss the whole deviant art/Quizzilla shit so I might do a whole seven minutes in heaven thing lmao (This doesn’t belong here but scream at me about it cause I need it to happen for nostalgia’s sake) 

Also, I'm kinda using this space as a chill/fun mostly nsfw diary? lmao so it's just mostly gonna be vibes :p That being said keep your fandom discourse and weirdo hate bs to yourself cause I will clown/ignore you if you come at me w some sideways ass energy. I'm just as nice as I am mean so don't try me ☯️❤️

So here’s the fandoms&Characters if you wanna request: 

Mha- 

Shocker, but I do have some old asks that are too good to just let’em go ya know?  

Shinsou (I started this blog cause of him so.. yeah) 

Villain/Yandere Deku sorry

Bakugou

Endeavour 

Dabi

Hawks

Tokoyami 

Shoto

Dc- 

Please, please, please send me shit about Tim Drake. (Need him biblically) Literally hopped back on for him. 

Jason Todd

Dick Grayson

Bruce Wayne

Selina Kyle 

Poison Ivy 

Joker (Nothing good is coming out of anyone requesting this I just know it) 

Constantine 

Diana (Wonder woman my beloved) 

Amanda Waller 

Cheetah 

Slade Wilson… 

JJK-

Nanamin 

Gojo  (He's like crack to me istg)

Inumaki 

Invincible- 

Mark Grayson 

…Nolan...

Debbie

Alan! 

Naruto-

Kakashi ‘blow my back out’ Hatake

Itachi 

Shisui (My love)

Madara

Tobirama’s messy ass

Ask for more but these are my faves 

D- gray man-

Yuu Kanda!

Tyki Mikk

Kingdom Hearts-

Riku

Vanitas 

Most of the organization tbh

FF7-

All of them. 

But especially Sephiroth 

Any type of monster lmao 

Kenji Sato lmao

You can ask for others not listed in different fandoms I just think this has gotten a bit too long  

And Yeah, Let’s have fun! ^^

New Tags: 

         This bitch is yapping - Any asks answered or just general shit

         Thirsty bitch juice - Small scenarios, thirst,

         Pretty things- Art 

         Oh la la that’s some good shit right there- Fic recs & reblogs

         On my monster fucking bs - Monster fucking lol 

         Lock that shit up in the basement pls- cursed asks and stuff 

Uh random bullshit go! - My newer writing

And if you made it this far down here's a cookie 🍪

[chainelunaire]

are they up for a one-night stand?

shigaraki

he wishes that was him. no, he’s not, purely because he has no idea what and how to do, and his pride won’t let him embarrass himself like that. he has some reputation yk and he’s kinda busy. yet he can’t help but wonder if that’s another thing he’s missed up on with all his villainy stuff. it’s not often when he thinks about it, more when he sees someone who’s kind of his type, and then he wonders what’s next, because not that he can afford relationship either. even if he seeks intimacy (more of a platonic way actually), he still probably won’t do that. it’ll take a lot of courage for him to take the risk, he also probably needs to be a little bit tipsy unless he’ll just be too anxious. if he actually does that, he will regret it later. probably because his expectations did not meet the reality, and deep inside he might feel used. will pretend it never happened.

dabi

no, for a number of reasons. first and the most obvious one: his body is kinda not suitable for basically anything rather than burning him from inside. he’s strong, yet fragile. he even cries with blood, can you imagine how painful sex can be for him? his body needs a lot of care, any damage is long lasting and costs a lot. in a long run it’s not worth it. giving himself to a stranger he just met? you kidding. he simply can not afford the luxury of unexpectedly destroying his body after years of planning his revenge. this is pure stupidity to him. secondly, he’s kinda simply not interested? he’s too fixated on his revenge, he also does not view himself as he is now. his body is his tool, he does not see the appeal of it. he would never think he’s attractive, let alone attractive enough for someone to want to have sex with him. he’ll probably think you’re making fun of him, which is not great at all. and lastly, dude has Trust Issues. even if we put aside reasons above, he won’t let himself be vulnerable with somebody he does not know and trusts. it simply won’t happen, sorry.

overhaul

it’s hilarious you even thought there’s a possibility. no. never. he’ll sooner throw himself off the cliff than let if happen. he’s getting angry simply thinking about it. what angers him even more, is that a certain someone might think that he’ll disregard his own safety for a promise of pleasure. first of all, what makes you think you’ll know what he likes right from the get-go, second, he does not touch people to save their lives you know. no. not happening.

hawks

he’s had his fair share of flings, and he knows the drill, yet he rarely finds that it was worth it. he’s very good with keeping his feelings in check, so he won’t get attached, and that’s kinda the problem. he feels like he’s sort of a cheater, actually. simply because he does not find that intimacy by knowing the person well enough, yet pretending he does, because he’s a gentleman like that. he’s a giver, and that’s kind of his curse in that case, because he’s very aware of his lies. and yk, he knows he’s been lied to too, that’s sort of the point, in order of getting some sexual pleasure you say what you need to be said. he’s fine with it in the moment, but later he starts to feel really shitty. he doesn’t feel guilty, though, he knows he’s not bad. it’s just like he’s getting yet another reminder of the lack of some true bond in his life and since that’s what he really wants, it stings really bad. he feels like he’s betraying himself, sort of. yet, he rarely says no to an opportunity. he actually hopes, that this time he’ll feel differently. he thinks like that every single time.

aizawa

he’s a true master. he can’t afford decent relationship right now, and he’s in peace with it and with his life as a whole. in general, he’s very balanced, he’s not anxious or desperate. he knows, what he’s doing. gentle in a sense that he won’t make it feel like you have been used, he’ll probably take you to a some nice place, so no fucking near trash cans, unless it’s some kink of yours. he’s very generous and he’s detached enough so you won’t from him ever again. that’s actually a bad news for you: he’s not doing it again, his goodbye is quite literal. so enjoy it while it lasts. anyway, 10/10 expirience, would recommend.

[princess-of-the-corner]

CC!NextGen

Ok, stay with me here.

The CC!NextGen’s big bad IS the HPSC - specifically the branch that made Nijiko.

After the “War”, the Hero Public Safety Commission was pretty gutted. Most of their top guys died, after all. While this left space for new blood, it also left space for some of the “Old Guard” to come in and start a few projects that were probably not cool with the old administration. Projects like creating their own “heroes” from scratch, rather than just dealing with whatever they can get.

Like, I’m not saying they weren’t given serious consideration, but the Commission seemed to be a certain flavour of corrupt. The kind that says “we can justify this for the greater good”. Like, they threatened Lady Nagant. They made Hawks a child soldier. But I get the feeling, in the world of MHA, experimentation on human DNA is viewed as even more taboo than WE see it as. Like, when it comes to Quirks, you aren’t just fucking around playing god, you’re basically messing with creating WEAPONS. It’s why Quirk marriages are viewed so poorly (and in a few places, are probably straight up illegal). 

I’d propose, by the time the Next-Gen CC class gets to U.A. (either under Aizawa once again, Vlad - to give him the limelight - or maybe a mostly rehabbed Kurogiri, just to really go hard on nonsense) the HPSC is basically stuck in an internal political struggle. You’ve got the New Guard, people who came in after the “War”, who are determined to do “better” than their predecessors, and are trying to be as transparent as possible. They want to be what the HPSC SHOULD have been. Then you have the remnants of the “Old Guard”, those who survived the “war”, and are doubling down their old ways. They need control. They need to bring back the peace, by any means necessary. And you’d have the thing that sprung up in the middle as a result:

A program to “create” new heroes, through illegal experimentation and DNA manipulation. While Nijiko might be their “one that got away” and the one they desperately want back, she wouldn’t be the only one they made. Hell, she probably isn’t even the oldest one “created”. And whoever’s in charge of that nightmare?

Congrats, Doctor Frankenstein, YOU are the new Big Bad!

-

Ohohohohohohohohoo

Actually I was gonna make a side note on like the suggestion of our Edgelord so here’s a vote on that: Actual edgelord speaking delusional nonsense or another experiment but this time with whatever remnants of AfO’s DNA they scraped off the battlefield?

(also my one thing re: this hot mess is going to be squishing the nextgens’ ages so everyone can be involved. Some would be rookie Heroes while others are first years. Which does technically work given the canon character’s age ranges)

[lyco-riis]

BNHA Fanfics Overview (last updated:09/04/2024)

(Fanfic titles are linked to lead to their Ao3 page. If a link doesn't work, please contact me.)

Currently Updating:

Those are the ones I'm currently working on until they are finished.

Starchaser

Yagi Toshinori might want someone to continue his mantle as the Symbol of Peace, but Midoriya Izuku knows that he'll never be able to climb up that high. Not when the corpses of the dead keep dragging him down to the underground. - Shirakumo Oboro and Midoriya Izuku are just opposite sides of the same coin. Aizawa Shouta notices that fact before anyone else does.

Chapters: 11/? Word Count: 22,216 Tags: AU, Midoriya Izuku sees ghosts, Ghost Shirakumo Oboro, Past OFA users are all dumbasses, Aizawa Shouta co-parenting one problem child with 7 ghosts

close to the stars

“You know, almost everyone says the same thing to me—I can’t be a hero without a quirk, because I’d be too helpless and weak. Because apparently, I can’t save people without a quirk.” Izuku takes a glance at everyone—from Katsuki, his brother, and the crowd—before he settles his gaze on the heroes once more. “But what makes you heroes? You all have perfectly fine quirks and yet most of you couldn’t do anything today.” - Takami Keigo adopts Izuku, and that alone changes everything, from his life to the way he handles OFA. (Note: This is not an All Might bashing story!)

Chapters: 11/? Word Count: 17,467 Tags: Suicide Attempt in the first chapter (undetailed), Big Brother Hawks, Dabi is a mess, Yagi just being a big dork, Izuku does take OFA but the way he interacts with it is a bit diff than in canon

Realism

The repercussions of being realistic are sometimes too heavy to bear. Or: Takami Keigo wakes up in a world where a quirkless Midoriya Izuku applies for an internship at his agency.

Chapters: 5/? Word Count: 6,834 Tags: AU, Hawks ends up in an alternative universe, Quirkless!Izuku, Katsuki is dead, HPSC intern!Izuku, Keigo is playing detective trying to figure out why Izuku is quirkless, Aizawa Shouta is trying to figure out how to adopt one very sad kid, Mitsuki and Masaru struggling with their son's death but also... finding out how kinda bullied Izuku, it's very complicated and just a mess of emotions and consequences

Ink Splashes

"It's a form of projective synesthesia," the doctor said, pointing at his papers, "Not a quirk I fear." "This is bullshit," Aizawa tells him as they look at the paperwork, "Don't make me regret this." Izuku stares at the silver ink splashes on the hero and thinks, No, not when you wear such a warm color. - Midoriya Izuku gets adopted by the Eraserhead. He also learns that some doctors just don't give a fuck about their jobs. Or about "quirkless", little kids.

Chapters: 13/? Word Count: 16,750 Tags: AU, Izuku has a Quirk, Aizawa adopts him, the best way to describe this story is that Izuku's perceives souls and that dramatically changes the way he views people and things

Volery

Volery 1. A flight of birds. 2. A large bird cage; an aviary. - Absolutely no one could have predicted that Hawks taking over All Might's place as Midoriya Izuku's favorite hero would lead to the eventual reform of the Hero Public Safety Commission. No one.

Chapters: 5/? Word Count: 7,350 Tags: HPSC Intern!Izuku, Vigilante!Izuku (kind of), won't say anything about any quirks for now :3, basic gist is Izuku kind of ends up... reforming the whole commission on accident and that has lasting effects on the whole hero community, meanwhile Keigo is trying to adopt the kid bc have u seen his big, green eyes full of innocence?

ignis fatuus

It all begins with a wrong diagnosis from a, in hindsight, shady doctor. It probably doesn't help that he immediately quit his job at that specific clinic and vanished afterwards, but Izuku digresses. - Aizawa Shouts gets called on a case to dismantle a cult, Takami Keigo is there on the HPSC's orders, and Midoriya Izuku would like to escape said cult. It all works out somehow.

Chapters: 1/? (might turn it into series format instead of a multi-chap) Word Count: 1,996 Tags: Izuku was raised in a cult in this one but dw, trust Aizawa to adopt him on sight, growing up in a cult is a game changer for literally everything, which Keigo is the true Keigo? The one who deceives the hpsc, the one who deceives the public, or the one who crashes into window panels? Izuku has a quirk and the eternal mission of fucking with everyone's mind

Planned one shot:

Teacher!Izuku and how he keeps giving Aizawa headaches:

On Hiatus:

All other BNHA stories. Those won't be updated until the ones above are finished.

Unless stated in the title/summary, a work is not abandoned! However, I focus on whatever fandom has the most of my interest at any given moment, so some works might take a while to be updated. Comments and kudos are always great motivation-givers (except you ask about the status of a particular work on an unrelated work—please refrain from doing that, as I’ll most likely end up shoving a potential update back by a few weeks out of spite).

[alovelyburn]

@ayustar​ I think I’m just allergic to incredibly long posts which is hilarious coming from me, but it is what it is.

Reference to the conversation here:

I’ll be honest, I’m not much of an “I want to see the characters I dislike suffer” type of person anyway so the drive to watch a character be humiliated is kind of beyond me. Sometimes I guess you could call it justice and sometimes it’s narratively interesting but I don’t get a thrill out of it or anything.

I’m also not prone to disliking characters at all - 99% of the time I either don’t care about them or like them to one degree or another.

NOW. As for what Griffith is doing....

Obviously we don’t know for sure, and I could be incredibly wrong about this, but HONESTLY I kind of think he’s doing exactly what he seems to be doing: building a single nation for humanity that functions as a haven and incorporates all types of people, including former humans like the Apostles.

I don’t think there’s going to be a secret trap, or that he’s secretly trying to destroy humanity or that he’s secretly got a sausage machine under Falconia turning humans into food for the Apostles. I just don’t. Unless it’s a punishment for criminals I guess? That would be less surprising.

And I think the core issue with Griffith, the reason that he can be (and usually is) seen as the villain, comes down to as few major things:

1. The paradise he builds is metaphorically constructed atop the graves of the Hawks, whom Guts loved, and Guts neither places any value in peace  nor gives a fuck about humanity as a whole, so he doesn’t care how nice Falconia is, nothing will ever justify the cost to him. Since Guts is the main character the reader tends to be inclined to root for his perspective over the opposing perspective, but as Miura himself said that doesn’t mean that Griffith’s perspective is inherently wrong, it’s just a matter of which direction or angle you take on it.

2. The question of the cost. Not just the deaths of the Hawks but the sacrificed innocents around the Tower of Conviction, and the loss of the world outside Falconia - the monsters, the chaos, the death - is it worthwhile? It’s a bit like the question of whether gaining security is worth losing one’s freedom. Falconia may be a lovely place, but building it required massive sacrifices, one of which is ongoing (the relative safety of the world before Griffith merged planes), not to mention that you don’t really have any choice but to live there if you want to survive. Is that worth it?

So like, do the ends justify the means? Is it worth losing the world before to gain the world that he’s created? It’s sort of a question that needs to be answered on an individual level and people are bound to disagree, thus Miura’s statement that the world Griffith creates is more convenient for some people (and implicitly therefore not for others).

It also fits the philosophical difference between Griffith (representative of the collective) and Guts (representative of the individual) - for Griffith losing individuals (even if he loves them) is preferable to betraying the collective (for example by letting their deaths go to waste), and to Guts it’s definitively the other way around.

My general feeling, and this is veering into theory but it is what it is, is that Griffith/Femto was sent to the world to kickstart the next age of humanity, and that the age in question is reached through the tunnel known as the Age of Darkness -  a period of monsters and tumult and violence with a high mortality rate that people look back on later and say, “that sure was a dark time.” But i think the idea is that when they look back, they’re no longer in a bad place - they have arrived at the light that lives inside the darkness.

There are a lot of reasons I think this - among them being the actual in canon references to Griffith bringing a new age (and the comment from IoE that his actions will bring humanity salvation or suffering), and the fact that the old Godhand, the ones in the Void Eclipse, are drawn to resemble ancient deities and monsters which implies to me that the age before the last incarnated Godhand was similar to the ancient world.

Miura had also said that the end of Berserk would delve into Taoism and Qi which, look I am not an expert in Taoism by any means but... google it sometime and a lot about the nature of Berserk and characters like the Godhand and Griffith may become clearer.

The biggest and most revelatory thing that I found while looking into it after reading that quote is this site (the site looks janky because it’s old, but it’s a site created by a professor for the use of their students):

While many Western religions emphasize a duality between good and evil, urging devotees to embrace the good and spurn the evil, Taoism saw these moral qualities as two extremes of a single spectrum. Virtue did not lie at one end or the other of this spectrum, but through carefully maintaining a balance between the two.

Then it talks about Yin and Yang, the most common expression of this principle which I’m leaving out because this is long but it’s at the link above if you’re curious. Then...

These traits appear oppositional on first inspection. However, that opposition is only a surface illusion in Taoist belief. In fact, the two states of nature require each other. Just as an art student knows that negative space around an object is what creates the outline of positive space in a drawing, the enlightened Taoist knows that suffering, pain and misery are necessary for traits like contentment, pleasure, and happiness to exist. Sickness and health are the same phenomenon; they are just at far ends of that same phenomenological spectrum. Masculinity and femininity are also the same thing; they are both the phenomenon of gender expressed in opposite ways. Love and hatred are also the same phenomenon, and so on. 

Which is kind of how you end up with things like Griffith being both light and dark, or Guts and Griffith’s complicated feelings about one another and the statement from Skull Knight that they are half of one another.

And I just....

...if I’m being totally honest I think these things are already evident in the series so I’m not at all surprised but i am smug as hell because of all the arguments I had about this back in the day.

But I mean one of the big things about Asian media (at least in my own personal experience which is limited, so don’t take it as a universal) is that you get a lot of conceptual stuff that western audiences aren’t used to because our media tends to be more concrete and deal in more definitive concepts. And this is one of the big reasons that the west has a hard time interpreting Berserk and... I think it’s slightly exacerbated by  the way Berserk kind of masquerades as a Western-style revenge story.

[ao3feed-todoroki]

But I'd Like to Learn Your Name

But I'd Like To Learn Your Name (And Holding On, Well, I Hope You Do The Same.) by oceanids

Touya Todoroki was the firstborn of a famed hero: Endeavour, being born to high expectations of fulfilling his father's hopes, only for Touya's body to crumble under said hopes and dreams.

This led Touya off the pro-hero path his father wished for and something more manageable; like being a frontman to the infamous band that calls itself The League of Villains, which recently came up on the Hero Public Safety Commission's radar following the sudden retirement of All Might, due to their less than-favourable opinions on the current hero system.

To some, saving face is more important than some minor casualties along the way. After all, it's all done with the public good in mind.

While in the shadows, there is a force more than happy to exploit this opportunity.

~ a rewrite to And If You Open Up Your Heart that no one asked for, but you get anyway~

Words: 5317, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, M/M, Multi

Characters: Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Natsuo, League of Villains

Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Touya & Todoroki Fuyumi & Todoroki Natsuo & Todoroki Shouto, Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Fuyumi/Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko/Todoroki Natsuo

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dabi | Todoroki Touya Gets Therapy, Singer Dabi | Todoroki Touya, League of Villains in a Band, Dabi | Todoroki Touya is Not a Villain, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Fix-It of Sorts, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor is trying to varied success, Fuyumi just her family to stop being petty for one dinner, Natsuo just wants to vibe with his siblings, Shouto gets to be the brat sibling we all know he is, and Touya just wants so fucking peace at a fancy onsen, Gay Disaster Dabi, Takami Keigo | Hawks is Bad At Feelings, Takami Keigo | Hawks Acts Like a Bird, hpsc: wait are we the baddies?, no beta we die like touya's early hopes and dreams, keeping up with the todorokis but its softer and with healing

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44144383

[ao3feed-hawks]

But I'd Like to Learn Your Name

But I'd Like To Learn Your Name (And Holding On, Well, I Hope You Do The Same.) by oceanids

Touya Todoroki was the firstborn of a famed hero: Endeavour, being born to high expectations of fulfilling his father's hopes, only for Touya's body to crumble under said hopes and dreams.

This led Touya off the pro-hero path his father wished for and something more manageable; like being a frontman to the infamous band that calls itself The League of Villains, which recently came up on the Hero Public Safety Commission's radar following the sudden retirement of All Might, due to their less than-favourable opinions on the current hero system.

To some, saving face is more important than some minor casualties along the way. After all, it's all done with the public good in mind.

While in the shadows, there is a force more than happy to exploit this opportunity.

~ a rewrite to And If You Open Up Your Heart that no one asked for, but you get anyway~

Words: 5317, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, M/M, Multi

Characters: Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Natsuo, League of Villains

Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Touya & Todoroki Fuyumi & Todoroki Natsuo & Todoroki Shouto, Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Fuyumi/Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko/Todoroki Natsuo

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dabi | Todoroki Touya Gets Therapy, Singer Dabi | Todoroki Touya, League of Villains in a Band, Dabi | Todoroki Touya is Not a Villain, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Fix-It of Sorts, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor is trying to varied success, Fuyumi just her family to stop being petty for one dinner, Natsuo just wants to vibe with his siblings, Shouto gets to be the brat sibling we all know he is, and Touya just wants so fucking peace at a fancy onsen, Gay Disaster Dabi, Takami Keigo | Hawks is Bad At Feelings, Takami Keigo | Hawks Acts Like a Bird, hpsc: wait are we the baddies?, no beta we die like touya's early hopes and dreams, keeping up with the todorokis but its softer and with healing

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44144383

[ao3feed-tododeku]

But I'd Like to Learn Your Name

But I'd Like To Learn Your Name (And Holding On, Well, I Hope You Do The Same.) by oceanids

Touya Todoroki was the firstborn of a famed hero: Endeavour, being born to high expectations of fulfilling his father's hopes, only for Touya's body to crumble under said hopes and dreams.

This led Touya off the pro-hero path his father wished for and something more manageable; like being a frontman to the infamous band that calls itself The League of Villains, which recently came up on the Hero Public Safety Commission's radar following the sudden retirement of All Might, due to their less than-favourable opinions on the current hero system.

To some, saving face is more important than some minor casualties along the way. After all, it's all done with the public good in mind.

While in the shadows, there is a force more than happy to exploit this opportunity.

~ a rewrite to And If You Open Up Your Heart that no one asked for, but you get anyway~

Words: 5317, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, M/M, Multi

Characters: Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Natsuo, League of Villains

Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Touya & Todoroki Fuyumi & Todoroki Natsuo & Todoroki Shouto, Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Fuyumi/Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko/Todoroki Natsuo

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dabi | Todoroki Touya Gets Therapy, Singer Dabi | Todoroki Touya, League of Villains in a Band, Dabi | Todoroki Touya is Not a Villain, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Fix-It of Sorts, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor is trying to varied success, Fuyumi just her family to stop being petty for one dinner, Natsuo just wants to vibe with his siblings, Shouto gets to be the brat sibling we all know he is, and Touya just wants so fucking peace at a fancy onsen, Gay Disaster Dabi, Takami Keigo | Hawks is Bad At Feelings, Takami Keigo | Hawks Acts Like a Bird, hpsc: wait are we the baddies?, no beta we die like touya's early hopes and dreams, keeping up with the todorokis but its softer and with healing

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44144383

[kkodzvken]

suit up - hawks x f. reader

the one where keigo marries the girl of his dreams, and then takes her home and shows her just how loved she is. title cred/inspo: suit up by jonghyun

notes/warnings: smut and fluff (your teeth may rot and fall out, you’ve been warned), soft dom!keigo, praise kink, slight size kink, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex + creampie. reader and kei use the traffic light safe word system and they review it beforehand, and he checks in with her at one point but she’s green, so everything is 100% consensual. they flirt + kei says explicit things at the reception but nothing /actually/ happens in public. mentions of alcohol

wc: 5.3k

a/n: this idea’s been bouncing around my head for a while bc i wanna marry this dumbass so bad :’) my first full hawks fic!! im so happy hehe

Beautiful.  

You’re so beautiful.

Keigo’s always known, of course. He’s found you beautiful since the very first moment that he laid his eyes on you, all those years ago. He tells you that you’re beautiful every single day, no matter how much you roll your eyes or jokingly tell him to shut up.

You’re beautiful all the time, but there are certain moments that leave him especially breathless. The day that you foolishly challenged Rumi to an arm-wrestling match. The determined look in your eye as you clenched your fist, sweat dripping down your brow and arm muscles straining (you lost, of course – the rabbit hero was ridiculously jacked). The brilliant smile that graces your face whenever he brings you flowers or little souvenirs from his work trips. The very first morning after you moved into his penthouse, when he woke up next to your peaceful sleeping form, and realized that he’d have mornings like this for the rest of his life.

The day that he flew you up to the mountains for a starlit picnic. The smile on your face as you polished off your meal, and the way that your hand flew up to your mouth when he got down on one knee. Your teary-eyed look of pure love as he slipped the ring onto your finger, the diamond gleaming like one of the stars that shone down on you. The way that your eyes rolled back and your legs wrapped around his waist when he took you home and fucked you for hours.

And right now. Keigo swore that his heart damn near burst at the sight of you. The organist was playing, but he couldn’t hear the notes, couldn’t hear anything besides the blood rushing in his ears. Your hands clasped an elegant flower bouquet, and Keigo was sure that the blossoms were pretty, but he couldn’t spare even a second to glance at them. No, his entire focus was trained on you. You, with your beautiful dress that perfectly accentuated the body that he loved so much. When your eyes raised to meet his, and that perfect smile worked its way across your face… he had to bite his inner cheek to try and hold the tears back.

In a simultaneous eternity and heartbeat, you were handing off your bouquet to a bridesmaid and clasping Keigo’s large hands with your much smaller ones. The officiant was speaking, but Keigo didn’t process any of it. The sight of your eyes shining up at him, more beautiful than any of the stars in the night sky, was the only thing anchoring him to the world. He felt like he was floating through a dreamscape with only you, the happiness in his chest powerful and all-encompassing.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’re talking to a group of your old friends from high school when a tap against your shoulder grabs your attention, and you turn to see your fiancé – no, your husband – smirking down at you. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Excuse me, ladies,” he says to your friends. “Mind if I steal her for a moment?” His amber eyes glint mischievously, and you swear that a whole swarm of butterflies take flight in your stomach.

Your friends giggle and nod, and then Keigo’s spinning you around so that you’re face-to-face. He’s stunning, in his black suit and red dress shirt, the shade of crimson matching his wings perfectly. “Dance with me, dove,” he says, before leaning down to press a quick kiss against your lips. You nod, and he leads you towards the center of the venue, where most of your guests are dancing to some cheesy pop song. Keigo nods at the DJ, who nods back and switches to the music. Soft synth notes travel through the speakers, before the singer’s dreamy voice floods your ears.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders. His wings move to wrap around you protectively. You’re not sure if he even realizes that he does it – it’s such a normal thing, now, for him to shield you, to create a little cocoon for the two of you. You frown as you feel his muscles moving underneath your fingers. “You’re too tense,” you say, fingers gently kneading at the parts of his back that you can reach. “Let me give you a massage once we get home.”

He chuckles, one of his own hands coming up to capture yours. He laces your fingers together before bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your skin. The look he gives you is so tender, the love radiating off his body so palpable, that it makes your knees feel week. “Sweet, but I’m the one who’s going to be taking care of you tonight.” You open your mouth to protest, but he tuts, and a feather flies up to shush at your lips. “No, listen. You’re driving me crazy. Every time I turn my head, I see you looking so damn beautiful that my heart stops. Makes me wanna just pull you away and rip that pretty dress off.”

You gasp at his words, a pretty blush dusting your cheeks. “Kei! People are gonna hear you!”

He shrugs, pulling you even closer and swaying your bodies lightly to the music. “Let them,” he says nonchalantly, but the glint in his eye is pure sin. He leans down so that his lips brush against the shell of your ear. You can’t help the shudder that wracks through your body as his warm breath hits your skin. “You’re so cute when you’re blushing like that. Did I make you flustered, baby?” His fingers release yours, instead gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his eyes. “Answer me, love.”

You nod, feeling small. Only Keigo can affect you like this, can reduce you to a trembling mess with just a few words.

You love it.

He smirks at your confession, pressing a kiss against your cheek before leaning his forehead against yours. “What do you say we jump ship, babe?” Your confusion must show on your face, because he continues. “I think I might die if I have to wait much longer to get my hands on you. And judging by the way you’re acting… I’d bet good money that you’re already dripping for me.”

“Kei!” You swat at his chest before burying your face in it. He laughs, one of his real, genuine laughs that makes your heart soar, before kissing the crown of your head.

“I don’t see you denying it.”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, is my cute little wife flustered?”

Wife. The word sounds so pretty rolling off his lips that you can’t resist retreating from the safety of his chest to press your lips against his. He cups your face with one of his large, rough hands and kisses you back. His wings shift to cover you up before the hand on your waist moves down to pinch at your ass – or, at least, it tries. The layers of your dress obstruct him, and he growls in frustration.

You can’t help but whine as well. You want him all the time, of course. Years of being together haven’t changed how fucking badly you want him all the time. You’d used up all your willpower behaving for the ceremony and the reception so far. You’d been good, had kept your hands to yourself throughout dinner and the toasts. But now, the mix of his body against yours, the dirty words that he’d whispered into your ear, and the cocktails running through your bloodstream were making it very hard for you to ignore the pooling heat between your legs.

You wanted him. You wanted your husband.

“Please,” you whisper. Under normal circumstances, you’d hate how whiny and pathetic you sound, but you’re too far gone to care. “Please, let’s go, Kei. Need you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few whispered words to Rumi, and a knowing smirk from her, and you were gone. It was surprisingly easy to slip out the venue. You’d expected to be stopped by some nosy family member, but it seemed that everyone was too tipsy and having too much fun to care. Nevertheless, you had to be careful once you stepped out into the fresh night air. The number two hero’s wedding was perfect paparazzi bait. You didn’t even want to think about the feeding frenzy that the media would go into if they caught sight of you now.

The night sky was like a shield, though, and it protected you from prying eyes. You’d been discreet when picking the wedding and reception venues, and even more discreet in choosing your honeymoon destination. Tomorrow morning, you and Keigo would fly up to the mountains, where he’d rented a little cabin for the two of you. By some miracle, he’d managed to get a whole week off work – a whole week where you’d have him, entirely to yourself.

But right now, you aren’t thinking about tomorrow morning, or the lovely, peaceful honeymoon that you were about to embark on. Right now, the only thing you can think about is Keigo. Keigo, with his beautifully messy hair that moved like ocean waves as you soared through the air. There’s nothing in this world that you love more than flying with him, pressed against his sturdy body with his strong arms wrapped around you. Light pollution makes it hard to see the sky from the ground, but up here, the moon and stars are breathtaking.

Almost as breathtaking as your husband, who’s eyes are prettier than any stars could ever hope to be.

He looks down and catches you staring, taking him in with your wide, wondrous eyes. You can barely hear anything through the noise-cancelling headphones that he makes you wear whenever you fly, but his words reach you, clear as day – “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Your voice comes out small, stolen away by the rushing wind. You try again, louder this time. “I love you!”

He chuckles, chest shaking as he tries to keep his laughs contained. “You trying to one-up me? I can be loud too.” He takes a deep breath, before tipping his head back and shouting an I love you up into the heavens.

His lips are soft and sweet as candy when they dip down to meet yours. “I’m just so happy,” he whispers against you. “You make me so happy.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The moment that you set foot into the penthouse, you gasp.

“Oh, Kei,” you breathe, hand flying over your mouth.

He bounces nervously as he locks up the balcony door, not meeting your eye. “Do…do you not like it?”

You march up to him and grab his face in your hands, before standing up onto your tip-toes and planting a kiss on his forehead. “I love it, baby. Really, you’ve outdone yourself.”

He perks up at the praise, kissing your lips once before his hands move down and he picks you up, clean off the ground. You can’t hold your shrieking laugh back as he spins you around, a smile lighting up his face like a god damn Christmas tree.

The house is beautiful. Really, he did outdo himself. Back when you’d first started dating, he’d had to call off your six-month-anniversary date because of a mission. You’d assured him that it was fine, that you understood, but you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t upset. He promised that he would be back in a week at the latest. You’d spent the night with your friends, eating ice cream and watching shitty movies, and left for work the next morning. You weren’t expecting him back for a few days at least, but when you opened your door after an exhausting day at work, he was there, waiting for you. Scratches on his face and bandages on his arms, but he was there. And he’d decorated your apartment with flowers and fairy lights, centered around a haphazardly made blanket fort in the center of the living room. Little candles were placed across the room, each with a red feather standing guard, making sure that the flames didn’t accidentally get knocked over and grow. After you’d gotten over your initial shock – how the hell did you get in here, Kei – you ran into his arms and squeezed him, tight. He didn’t let go of you for the entire night – his body always pressed against yours, fingers constantly entwined, even as he made you cum so many times that you forgot your own name.

It was one of your fondest memories, one that always brought a smile to your face. You’d mentioned it offhandedly last week, while you were in the weeds with wedding planning. Honestly, you didn’t think that he’d even heard what you said, with how stressed and busy the two of you were. He was picking up extra patrols to make up for his honeymoon vacation time, and you were working your ass off to get your overbearing boss off your back.

But he had heard. He heard, and he listened, because that’s just the kind of lover – the kind of husband – that Keigo is. Attentive, sweet, and intuitive. You swear, he spoils you beyond belief. You don’t even know when he got the time to decorate the apartment today, but it’s beautiful. Even more beautiful than the decorations from your six-month-anniversary, because this time, the sight is sweetened by the knowledge that this is your shared home. This isn’t just your apartment, that your friends helped sneak him into so he could fancy it up. This is your shared space, where you’ll spend the rest of your lives together. Where you’ll wake up in his arms every morning, his wings wrapped around you protectively, fragmenting the morning light into shards of red. Where you’ll make meals together and laugh at his bad cooking, where you’ll take sanctuary from the harshness of the world. This place is your home. Keigo is your home.

He finally stops spinning, but refuses to set you down. Instead, he readjusts you so that he’s carrying you bridal style. You almost laugh at how cliché it is. It feels like something out of a cheesy rom-com, but you’re so happy that you feel like you’re in one of those rom-coms.

You do laugh out loud when you see the trail of petals leading to your bedroom. Keigo feigns disappointment, dramatically sighing. “Don’t laugh, princess, you wound me.” That just makes you laugh even more, and soon, he’s joining in, burying his face in your hair as he walks the two of you towards the bed. “C’mon, I’m trying to be romantic! Quit making me laugh!”

“I can’t help it,” you giggle as he gently places you onto the bed. Thankfully, he had the common sense to not put any petals on the actual bed, but the floor is absolutely covered. Blossoms line the walls as well, along with candles that bathe the room in their gentle glow. You take a second to admire how beautiful your husband looks in the soft light. The shadows make his wings seem that much bigger as they unfurl to their full size. He looms over you, looking like the most delicious mix of devil and angel that you’ve ever seen. There’s still a playful smile on his face, but something mischievous simmers beneath it.

“Hope you didn’t forget what you said at the reception hall, baby,” he says, eyes glinting. “What was it? Hmm, something like, need you, Kei, need you to take me home and fuck me, I’m already so wet for you.”

You groan and try to bury your face in your hands, but he’s too fast. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, easily wrapping them with just one of his large hands. “You’re making shit up,” you pout. “I only said the first part.”

“So you admit you said it? That you need me?”

“Shut up.”

“Mm, no thanks.”

You groan again, trying to suppress your smile. There are plenty of times that you and Keigo have had “serious” sex, but you mostly find yourself like this, devolving into giggles and teasing. There’s something about him that makes you feel so safe and at ease, and you can’t help yourself from giggling at his stupid remarks. He laughs, and releases your wrists to cradle your face with both his hands. He shifts so that he’s properly on top of you, his thighs on either side of your hips, and bends down to press kisses all over your face.

“My wife,” he breathes, in between kisses. “My sweet, beautiful, amazing wife. This dress is so pretty, but let’s take it off, my love. You don’t need it anymore.”

It takes a few minutes of awkward wriggling and tugging to finally remove the lace monstrosity, but at long last, the dress ends up on the floor. Keigo’s hands are on your body in an instant, fingers trailing over the curve of your waist and snapping the waistband of your panties. “God, you’ve got such pretty little lingerie on.”

“Wanted to dress up for you,” you say, pawing at his tie and trying to loosen the knot. It makes you feel small, to be so exposed while he’s still fully dressed. Normally you love to savor in that feeling, but right now, you need to feel his bare skin against yours. “Now take your clothes off, please.”

You finally manage to loosen his tie enough to pull it over his head. After stopping for another deep kiss, your hands continue their path over his body. His suit jacket comes off next, although he has to help you gently maneuver it off his wings. His cuff links clatter to the ground as you almost viciously rip off his dress shirt, and you moan when you finally feel his warm muscles.

You’re practically grinding into each other by now. Little whines leave your lips as you shamelessly roll your hips, seeking any friction you can get. You can feel his hardness, even through his thick pants, and you chase it with vigor. He’s not much better, a light blush dusting his face as he meets your rolls with shallow thrusts of his own. “Off, off, Kei, need to feel you,” you babble, fingers desperately trying to undo this belt buckle. Breathlessly, he pushes your fingers aside and pulls his belt off, unceremoniously throwing it across the room. You half expect it to collide with a candle and set the entire building on fire, but a few feathers fly out to catch it and gently set it down.

You don’t waste a second in pulling his pants down and throwing them as well, trusting that a feather will keep it from crashing into anything. Your fingers try to pull down the waistband of his boxers, but he tuts and grabs your hand.

You look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please,” you whine.

The smile on his face is gentle beyond belief as he answers. “I told you that I was going to take care of you tonight, baby. Let me make you feel good, okay? Can I make you feel good?”

You want to protest, want to beg him to stuff your face or your cunt and fuck into you until you’re lightheaded, but Keigo’s insistent about making you cum at least twice before even thinking about his own pleasure. And you can’t deny that you’re aching for him. You’re certain that you’ve soaked through your flimsy panties by now, and your mind is hazy with want.

You nod. Keigo takes your face in his hand, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Can you give me your colors too?”

You force your mind to push through the fog, force your heavy lips to move and form words. “G-green for good, yellow for slow down, red for stop.”

“Good girl.” The praise goes straight to your core, and you whine. “Oh, baby, I know I just vowed to give you everything you could ever want, but you’re so damn needy. Be patient for me, okay? Let me touch you.”

You nod obediently, but you can’t fight the urge roll your hips and feel him again. With a soft, scolding noise, he presses one of his hands into your hipbone, effectively pinning you to the mattress. Try as you might, you can’t squirm away. He’s so ridiculously strong, his muscles toned from years of training and hero work, that you’re no match for him. But it’s not so bad. You love the dominance that oozes off his body as he moves down, his hands and tongue exploring every inch of skin that they can find. His teeth nip at the sensitive spot on your neck, the spot that always makes you melt for him. You shamelessly sigh and tilt your head to give him more access.

His right hand, the one that isn’t currently pinning you to the mattress, plays with the lacy edges of your bra. He palms you through the thin fabric, making you groan and arch your back into his touch. It’s not enough, you need more, need to feel more of him before you lose your mind. He seems to read your mind, because he doesn’t even bother to unclasp the bra, electing instead to rip it clean off your body. The snap of the straps breaking makes you gasp, but you revel in the sting of the elastic bouncing back against your skin.

“Couldn’t wait,” he says, not a hint of shame on his face. “You know how much I love to tease, but fuck, I need you now.”

He’s a bit more ceremonious when he removes your panties, choosing to use a hardened feather to slice through the fabric instead of just ripping with brute force. He fucking moans at the sight of you, wet and needy for him. It sounds like absolute heaven, but you don’t have even a second to revel in it before he’s diving into you. The sudden rush of pleasure is electrifying, and you go to instinctively slam your legs shut, but Keigo’s hand is too fast again. His tongue doesn’t falter for even a second as his fingers dig into your thighs and push you open. His lips wrap around your clit and suck, and he’s outrageously loud as he moans into your sex. It’s all so much – he’s licking at you like a man on death row, coaxing little whines and gasps from your lips.

His beautiful eyes are trained on yours, pupils blow out with love and lust. He memorizes every little expression that flits across your beautiful face as he eases a finger into you, eyes only leaving your face to admire the way that your little cunt sucks him in. But he can’t tear his gaze away from you, and the way your mouth falls open, or the way that your eyes flutter and roll back. The way that your hands ball up into fists, alternating between grabbing the bedsheets and lacing through his hair. Fuck, he loves how you pull at his hair when his fingers curl up against that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Loves the little curses and gasps of his name that spill past your lips as he scissors and thrusts his digits deeper and deeper into your perfect pussy.

“Cum for me, princess,” he groans. “Please, cum for me, need you to be a good girl and cum for me.”

And, well, you did just vow to give him everything that he could ever want.

You throw your head back and almost sob as you gush all over his face and fingers. He’s insatiable, licking and fingering you all through it, desperately trying to lap up every single drop of your juices. Your body is shaking, and you whimper, the overstimulation building until it’s too much, until you’re crying out too much, Kei, ‘s too much!

“Give me your color, baby,” he says, slowing his assault against your body.

“G-green,” you stutter out, the words as shaky as your legs. “Green, don’t stop, it’s just – ah! Kei!”

Your verbal confirmation was all he needed to dive back in, sucking at you with even more vigor than before. His fingers twist and curl against your spot, and his tongue lashes at your clit. He doesn’t stop for even a second, burying himself in your heat. It’s all you can do to maintain your grip on his hair, tugging at it just the way that he loves. You’re thrust headfirst into your second orgasm of the night, crying out his name and positively sobbing at the onslaught of sensations.

When he finally pulls away, the lower part of his face is soaked with your cum. He makes a show of licking his lips clean, not breaking eye contact with you, no matter how much you blush and squirm. He saves his fingers for you, though. A gentle tap at your lips is all it takes for you to obediently open your mouth and take in his digits. You swirl your tongue around, eyes lidded with the afterglow of your pleasure.

But you’re not finished, are nowhere near finished. You suppose that you are being needy, but how could you not, when your husband looks like an absolute fucking god? The candlelight makes your cum on his face glisten beautifully. You whine and pull him in for a kiss, mashing your lips against his and greedily swiping your tongues together. It’s sinful. You can taste yourself on him, and it makes you shudder, makes you need him that much more.

“Please, please fuck me,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his slim waist and trying to pull him closer, closer, closer. “Please, Kei, need you inside me, need my husband inside me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, so quietly that you would’ve missed it if you didn’t feel the word formed against your lips. “Fuck, baby, okay.” His hand slides between your bodies and quickly pushes his boxers down. He uses a feather to pull them all the way off, because he can’t be bothered to focus on that, not when you’re practically drooling at the sight of his cock.

Your fingers twitch, and you aren’t able to hold back any longer. Your hand finds his cock, marveling at how heavy and perfect he feels as you wrap your fingers around him and guide him towards your sopping cunt. You pause before you slide him in, though, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Can I ride you? Please?”

He curses again under his breath, practically shivering at your words. His strong hands reposition the both of you, until you’re sitting on his thigh and he’s leaning back against the headboard. He cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Well, then? Get to work, princess.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at his antics. “What happened to Mr. Let-Me-Take-Care-Of-You?”

“He’ll come out later. If my pretty wife wants to ride me, she gets to ride me.”

You laugh for real this time, but it quickly turns into a moan as you sink yourself down on his length. No matter how many times you take him, he always overwhelms your senses, always stretches you so deliciously. You lean your forehead against his and give yourself a second to adjust, and then you’re rolling your hips, little whines leaving your lips.

“Feels so good, Kei.” You throw your head back, your fingers digging into the strong muscles of his back to anchor yourself. “You always feel so good.”

His eyes are half-lidded and dark as he takes you in. He’s memorizing every inch of your body, every detail and movement that he absolutely fucking adores. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world,” he whispers, seemingly more to himself than you. “So beautiful. I’m so lucky.”

Your thighs burn, but you force yourself to ignore the pain. You’d rather die than stop right now. His strong arms encircle your waist, and his wings surround your bodies, ruffling with every one of your movements.

You want to ignore your exhaustion, but your husband is perceptive as ever. His hips raise up to meet you, and it sends a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. You’re shaky, though, and you’re getting sloppy.

Before you can even process what’s happening, you’re being spun over and pinned to the mattress. A gasp leaves your lips, and you whine as his cock slips out of you. Your hand reaches out and paws around wildly, searching for him through your haze. Keigo’s quick to kiss you and shush your protests, entwining his rough fingers in your searching hand and stroking his thumb against your palm.

“Relax, angel. Let me take care of it.”

He slides into you again, making you both moan. Your pussy sucks him in greedily, clenching and fluttering around him. He pauses once he bottoms out. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and he presses sweet kisses all over your skin.

You wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze, trying desperately to make him move. “Keigo, baby, please,” you whine, fingers digging into the strong muscles of his back.

He coos, cupping your face and kissing you before he readjusts himself. “Of course, pretty girl.”

His thrusts are deep and hard, so hard that they make the entire bed shake. Your eyes flutter shut, but he grips your jaw and begs you to keep them open – please, baby, look at me, need to see my pretty wife fall apart.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he moans, teeth nipping at your lips. “So perfect, and all mine.”

“All yours,” you agree. You’re practically babbling by this point, unable to stop the noises slipping past your lips. You’re floating on a cloud, soaring through the sky, anchored only by his body against yours. “You’re so deep in me, Kei, can feel you so deep in me. Please, ‘m so close, just a lil’ bit more, Kei.”

He coos again, hand slipping down to toy with your clit. You wail, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as the coil in your stomach snaps and you gush uncontrollably. You can’t do anything but cry out for him, can’t do anything but cling onto him and shake and twitch. The feeling of you clenching around him is too much, and with a broken fuck and a cry of your name, he spills inside of you. He fucks you through it, the obscene sounds of your combined release making you feel lightheaded and weak.

He holds you for a few minutes, just like that, bodies entwined. You both pant and try to catch your breath. The weight of his body on top of yours is comforting, so you protest when he finally pulls out and sits back to admire the way that his seed drips out of you.

“Come back,” you complain. “What kind of husband doesn’t give cuddles to his wife?”

“The kind of husband who needs to clean her up,” he says with a chuckle. “C’mon, let’s go take a bath.

Your body feels boneless with exhaustion and the hazy afterglow of your three orgasms, so you’re grateful when he scoops you into his arms. You tuck your face into his neck and hum contentedly, unable to stop the giddy smile that blooms across your face.

“I love you, Kei,” you say, planting little kisses over his neck and jaw.

“I love you too, princess,” he says, grinning and poking your nose. He laughs when you scrunch it up and scowl at him. But, with how cute he looks, you just can’t hold the scowl for long. Soon, you’re giggling too.

You look up at him with so much love that it makes his heart ache. His eyes grow a bit more serious, and he dips his head to kiss at your swollen lips. “I mean it, baby. I’m so happy to spend the rest of my life with you.”

[ramp-it-up]

It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One.  I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then.... 

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left. 

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact.  You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues. 

 It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down. 

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck. 

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace. 

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront.  It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network. 

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags.  And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere. 

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.  

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye. 

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.  

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you.  It just felt right. 

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic. 

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much. 

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.  

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together. 

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions. 

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success. 

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well. 

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again. 

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move. 

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.  

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about. 

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed. 

Kevin. 

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks.  Chris was in a rage for a week. 

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.  

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.  

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding. 

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else. 

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth. 

Maybe you too could be friends. 

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm.  He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond.  He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later. 

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play. 

----- 

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?  

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him. 

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris?  This is Y/N.  I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you. 

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry.  I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone.  You just never believed that Chris would really move on.  And you didn’t know why. 

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries!  Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed. 

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot. 

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You  were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him. 

And that wink. 

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed. 

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off. 

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology. 

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging. 

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin.  You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped. 

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.  

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option. 

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend. 

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics.  His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”  

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy.  Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered. 

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance.  Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set.  Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over. 

“What can I get you, Sir.” 

“I don’t need a drink.  I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party.  I need it to be extra special.”  

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see. 

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.” 

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.  

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin. 

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be.  You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills. 

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”  

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking. 

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN!  WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.” 

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban. 

“Listen to me.. Listen.  I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent.  You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him.  He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”  

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face.  Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”  

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”  

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.  

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred.  That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan.  Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great.  I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”  

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad.  Chris was so sweet.  You thought about him and you thought about Kevin. 

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?  

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.  

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.  

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.”  You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that  for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.  

“Word?”  You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand.  The one you knew he jacked off with.  You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm.  Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again. 

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

 Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.” 

 Then you snapped out of it.  

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.  

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him. 

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?”  Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.” 

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell. 

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”  

You looked at Kevin, too.  You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.” 

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him.  The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you.  “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?”  You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard.  Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.” 

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it.  He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”  

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe.  He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own.  He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue.  You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage.  He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him.  You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”  

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long.  You pulled it out with a pop.  

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X.  He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more.  His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.”  You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City.  He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.  

“So you want me to feel you up?”  He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you. 

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass?  Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game. 

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too.  It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult.  He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down.  Is it true?”  

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand.  Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris.  Only you.. Since you and I….”  Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.  

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again. 

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly.  He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!”  Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted?  You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh?  You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?”  He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.”  Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”  

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”  

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him. 

 “Please!”

“I know why.” 

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit.  He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly. 

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick.  He didn’t have to move.  Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him.  He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?” 

You searched his face.  He sounded like he was about to cry.  You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid.  You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris.  I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.  

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly.  You on your knees for him again was a dream. 

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”  

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you. 

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you.  It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought. 

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give. 

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet. 

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.  

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you. 

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done.  You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.  

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.” 

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor.  He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”  

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know.  None of that meant that we’re back together.  That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?” 

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own.  You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.”  You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”  

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove. 

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees.  He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.  

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body.  He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you.  He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”  

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

--- 

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.  

“We’re going to Aruba?”  

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching.  That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.  

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.” 

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower.  You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog! 

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[officerjennie]

Title: As the Clouds Whisp Overhead

Summary: Jaskier gets off on Geralt's soft thighs and tummy. Literally. Geralt relaxes back and lets him, enjoying the show. Weight gain spoken of positively. Pairing: Geraskier. WC: 3.5K+

CW: smut, brief mention of weight loss due to difficult times (past)

It had been a rather easy spring, all things considered.

Geralt lazed in the field, not really watching the clouds that drifted overhead, his eyes closed and breaths deepening into an almost meditative state. The smell of wine and cheese was almost drowned out by the wildflowers about them but it was still there, as was the scent of apples, salt, the road, and the lingering oils that Jaskier had insisted on wearing ever since he’d discovered Geralt’s nose was sensitive to the others that he used to reek of.

Said bard was currently shuffling their lunch about, putting most of it away for later, humming one of his newest tunes as he folded back up the blanket he’d apparently bought for just this occasion. Though they’d eaten plenty of meals without it or the basket he’d purchased at the market as well, Jaskier had insisted that a picnic was a special affair and deserved the right accessories to make it just right.

Geralt had just let him do as he wished, not worried about his friend’s coin purse - and not worried about his own, for once. Usually the end of winter spelled a time of heavy work for him but he’d lucked out on a couple of easy and well paying jobs right off the bat - so he thought a bit of down time wouldn’t be the end of the world for them.

The song on Jaskier’s lips was one he hadn’t quite finished yet. Geralt had already heard several different renditions of the first verse alone, lyrics tweaked here and there, the exact lilt of his voice changing back and forth as he tried to settle on what he believed would sound the best. And despite his occasional grumbling over the repetition it was a rather relaxing tune, one he didn’t mind listening to.

Beyond that, there was a sort of...intimacy that came with being trusted with Jaskier’s unfinished works. The knowledge that Jaskier wasn’t always his best around him, was able to fuck around with a song and riddle the air with curses of “bollocks” and “cock” while he tried and failed and tried again to make it just right. That Geralt could see him like this and not the perfected performance that he was to the rest of the world, the mask that was firmly in place right up until the moment he didn’t want it to be.

And that moment just so happened to frequently involve witchers, whether directly or indirectly. How many times had he gone feral on someone for just saying the wrong thing about one of Geralt’s colleagues? Just early that spring he’d jumped someone for spitting on the ground over Lambert’s name, and Jaskier hadn’t even met him yet.

Something like pride welled up in his chest at the thought, though it was a quiet thing. Jaskier should be more careful, he shouldn’t be fighting their fights - but it meant the world to him all the same that he wanted to. Especially for his brothers.

“You know, I’ve never been one for cheese and crackers as anything more than a snack, but that was simply delightful.” Jaskier’s voice came closer as he talked, and the flowers and grass were disturbed next to him as the bard flopped over at his side, quickly snuggling in when Geralt moved his arm to make room for him. “We’ll have to go back and ask again what the name of that cheese was. Never have I ever given so much thought to pairing and wines and all that stuff - my youngest sister was always more interested in that sort of thing, and really if I heard her say one more time that my palette wasn’t refined enough I might have had to hide frogs in her bed again.”

Jaskier settled in nicely at his side, slotting in like they were made for each other, fit perfectly together. He chattered away and Geralt mostly tuned him out, something Jaskier loved to fake hurt over though they both knew it was just that: fake. Over the years Geralt had perfected hearing what he needed to hear and simply listened to the tune of Jaskier’s voice, the song of his highs and lows, his sighs and breaths and every heartbeat becoming the song that was his bard.

Meditation came easier around Jaskier than it did anyone else. Even around his own family it was a struggle. Lambert was a little shit at the best of times and Eskel simply existed larger than he wanted to, and Geralt was always tuned into his brothers, paying attention to them because he knew just how limited theri time was together. But with Jaskier, he could rest, relax, simply let himself be like he’d never experienced with anyone else.

His arm rested at Jaskier’s back, hand loose on his side, barely hanging on and feeling his bard breath in and out as he spoke. Jaskier’s fingers tapped a rhythm where they were rested on his chest, though eventually they moved, sliding down to rest against his stomach and making Geralt hmm at the pleasant warmth they brought.

They’d stripped earlier to bathe in the nearby river and had mostly dressed, though Jaskier had forwent his doublet as Geralt had his armor. It was nice, being out in the wild, away from the faux sense of safety that inn rooms allowed them and yet still able to be this content without his armor on. Just their loose clothing, not enough to be considered decent in any sort of societal setting, simply existing and being and just…

Geralt was content, and he didn’t consider that a bad thing. Not in the slightest.

A breeze rustled the field about them, loose silver hair tickling his face though Geralt didn’t have the bother in him to brush it out of the way or tuck it behind his ear. The air smelled nice for once, no clogging dust on the wind, no rotting anything nearby nor farms to make his nose want to clog itself. Since the summer was still a ways off the sun wasn’t too harsh on his skin, his chemise enough to keep any possible chill away though it was warm enough in this part of the country, everything pleasant and not too much.

There was also a lovely set of fingers that had wormed their way under his chemise. Jaskier hadn’t bothered to push it up, had just scooted his hand underneath, and with very gentle circles had begun to rub patterns into the soft flesh there. It was enough to make Geralt melt beneath him, a soft hmm on his lips accompanied by a sigh as he felt his every muscle relax at the touch. The winter had been extra good to him, Eskel having returned with more coin than expected from his path which had meant more meat for their stews, and the lot of them had eaten extra well.

Jaskier had never shied away from letting him know exactly how much he appreciated it when he ate well. There had been a few times on their own path that food had been scarce, and despite witchers having an accelerated metabolism Geralt had always done his best to see after his bard first and foremost - so when times were tough his body showed it, and Jaskier had played his fingers raw when he saw the worst of it just to make sure the both of them could eat their fill.

But there had been no such worries or struggles yet this year, what with the good winter and the well paying contracts that had followed. Geralt’s stomach was full and soft, protecting the muscles and other important organs underneath, and the rest of him was showing the spoiling as well. His thighs had grown softer, somewhat straining against the material of his pants but it wasn’t quite uncomfortable yet - he knew well enough to keep his clothes somewhat baggy, to make room for the waxing and waning that came with the path. His chest, too, had grown softer, encouraging Jaskier to nuzzle into it at any given opportunity.

Those calloused fingers found some of the scars that ran across his belly, caressing them gently. Some stretch marks veined their way across his skin as well, hidden at the moment by his chemise but Jaskier felt his way across them all the same, giving off a gentle sigh as he snuggled in closer and traced his love wherever he could reach.

Geralt could not have thought of a more peaceful way to spend the afternoon. The clouds blurred as his eyes slid closed at the tender affection, his breaths deepening. Deep breaths in through his nose, smelling the wildflowers. A rabbit was nearby, chomping as quietly as it could on some grass, its hops barely whispers as it braved further away from its burrow. Geralt could hear the gentle chuffing of its babies hidden away, the call of a hawk overhead that sent the rabbit scurrying. The scent of budding trees, of a little mouse that had found some seeds to munch. The scent of his bard, his oils and shampoo and the hint of river on the both of them, and the growing scent of-

A snort brought them both a bit out of the peace, and Geralt cracked his eyes just enough to smirk down at the startled confusion growing on his bard’s face.

“Really?”

Those pretty pink lips pouted up at him as if Jaskier wasn’t fully aware of what was growing in his pants. Geralt made a show of raising one of his eyebrows, raking his gaze down, down his bard, straight to stare at his crotch just long enough to get his point across before flicking his eyes right back up.

It took a few seconds for his bard to catch up, Geralt watching the thoughts clear as day on Jaskier’s face, until red spread pretty across his cheeks and darkened the speckle of freckles there. Jaskier sputtered a bit and Geralt had to bite back a wider grin, starts to words that had no finish dropping between them before Jaskier cut himself off with a whine, ducking in to nuzzle into his chest and push the rest of his body closer.

“That’s not fair, Geralt - what, can you, I don’t know, smell it or something?”

Geralt didn’t respond to that, just reached up to tug a stray curl back behind Jaskier’s ear. His bard peeked up at him with another adorable pout jutting out his lower lip, his nose scrunched up as he waited for his ‘ridiculous suggestion’ to be shot down.

But it wasn’t shot down. And Jaskier frowned, and then he squeaked, climbing on top of Geralt to straddle him and poke a very firm finger straight into the chest he’d just been nuzzling.

“You and your- your entirely unfair witcher ways! Are you telling me you could tell all this time? Every time?” Geralt didn’t stop his grin this time and the indignation just grew, hand gestures growing wider. “That is- Geralt, how am I suppose to walk through life knowing you can smell my erection? How am I ever supposed to get up of a morning knowing my every waking naughty thought will be given away? Which yes is entirely too often but you’re entirely not fair, have you looked in a mirror in the past decade? Cruelty, unfair, entirely too sexy for your own good, for anyone’s own good-”

Jaskier went on like that, ranting like only he could, while Geralt eventually tuned his words out just to listen to the lilt of his voice. And the bard made a rather pretty picture himself, straddling him like that. His chemise was loose, showing off curls of dark hair that Geralt could run his fingers through for an eternity and never be bored of it. Broad tanned shoulders, a soft stomach barely hidden underneath his clothes, his pants a wonderful shade of green that fit in with the waking world around them.

A very pretty picture, but a noisy one at the moment. Geralt sighed but Jaskier went on, wildly flourishing his hands as if it was the end of the world that Geralt could smell his arousal. An arousal that had notably not died down, still pressing against the fabric of his pants, catching Geralt’s eyes and making him tilt his head in that way that Jaskier insisted was ‘adorable’ - though Geralt didn’t think he was capable of such a thing.

His thigh twitched with a rather mischievous thought, and as Geralt’s gaze traveled back up to Jaskier’s face, cheeks still stained pink from his rather unnecessary embarrassment, he thought there perhaps that voice would do better singing for him than ranting about his dramatics.

He’d been called an asshole before, and Geralt had never disagreed with the label. But he was lucky enough that Jaskier for the most part never minded - and he greatly doubted Jaskier would mind his next movement.

As Jaskier waved one of his delicate looking wrists in the air, dandelion seeds drifting on the wind about them, Geralt shifted beneath him until he had room to lift up one of his thighs. Before Jaskier could catch his movement it pressed up into him, cutting his bard off with a gasp, his eyes fluttering as Geralt’s smile showed teeth.

“That’s-” Jaskier pressed right down onto his thigh, his hands coming down to support him, and he didn’t waste any time in making it more enjoyable for himself. Shifting down, one hand placed on Geralt’s chest to support him, Jaskier straddled his thigh and slowly ground down onto it. A pretty moan escaped his lips and his tongue darted out as if to catch it.

It was a lovely show, watching as Jaskier pressed down onto him, sought out his own pleasure by rubbing against his thick thigh. Geralt pillowed his head on his arms and just watched, not moving his leg, letting Jaskier set his own pace and feeling pride bubble up in his chest at how pretty he sung for him. On a particularly rough grind Jaskier whimpered and rutted against him faster, making Geralt’s own cock twitch - but he wasn’t really in the mood for pleasure, so he ignored it in favor of the show.

Though he made for a beautiful picture, back lit by the sun and clouds, a pretty blue above that couldn’t quite beat the beautiful blue of his eyes, Jaskier wasn’t purposely looking good for a show. He didn’t touch his own skin like he did when he rode Geralt, didn’t skim his hands down his chest and stomach to show it off. Didn’t bite his lip or run and tangle his fingers into his curls. The emotions that crossed his face were not stressed or controlled, his noises slipped out without thought, his body moving without any purpose beyond pleasuring himself - and it made it a moment Geralt wanted to sear into his memory forever. That Jaskier could let go like this for him. That he trusted that Geralt didn’t mind, trusted that Geralt did not judge him for his desires. How human Jaskier allowed himself to be, imperfect and all the more beautiful for it.

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed on an exhale, his movements already shaking, his cock dripping enough precum that it soaked into the front of his pants. Geralt could almost feel it wetting his own. “Geralt I- fuck you’re gorgeous, so gorgeous, I want to-” his hips stuttered, breath catching on a moan, brown curls caught on the wind and dancing. “Can- can I get off on your stomach? Gods it’d be so soft, feel so good, I- fuck.”

That was something he’d never requested before. Geralt quirked an eyebrow, belying another twitch of his own cock, but he grunted out “If you must.” And he had to bite back a chuckle at how quickly Jaskier’s fingers went for the ties of his pants.

Jaskier’s cock was leaking profusely though that wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. It looked like it was aching from it, hard and red and angry when he fished it out of his pants and smalls, and Jaskier whined as he couldn’t help but stroke himself a few times. His hips bucked with it, a greedy and wanting noise slipping from between his wet lips - but then he was slipping down Geralt’s leg to straddle his hips, and his cock was pushed against the soft skin of his stomach.

It didn’t slide against him very easily. The precum leaking from the tip helped, but Jaskier didn’t seem to care, holding onto his cock and gently rubbing it against him, jaw wide and loose like it was the single most pleasurable act Jaskier had ever experienced. Geralt cocked his head and tore his gaze away from Jaskier to watch his cock rub circles on him, precum dribbling faster and catching in the hair that curled white all over his abdomen.

Honestly, Geralt didn’t quite understand it. Wasn’t entirely sure what had Jaskier’s breath coming so fast, his heart beating so quick at rubbing against his soft stomach. But he didn’t really care. Jaskier’s hips jerked and he fought to keep himself reigned in, to keep his movements steady and slow, and Geralt just watched him and let him. Let him take this pleasure, smelling the arousal coming off of him in waves, listening to the rhythm of his breaths and body and heart. And Geralt memorized every little detail, from the flutter of his long eyelashes to the way his fingers dug into Geralt’s side, nails just at the edge of biting him.

Jaskier whimpered, long and shaking, when he came. It was desperate, his face scrunching up, eyes shut tight as if he was grasping onto the pleasure with all of his might. Geralt reached out to take hold of one of his hands, letting Jaskier clench his fingers as hard as he needed, bringing them up to brush his lips against the knuckles as Jaskier spilled all over his stomach.

His bard almost collapsed onto him, but Geralt moved him before that could happen, bringing him down with a shush at his further whimpers and letting him rest once more in the crook of his arm. And Jaskier came down slow, heartbeat eventually matching the rhythm of his deepening breaths, eyes still scrunched up tight as if he didn’t want to let go of what he’d been feeling.

When Geralt ran his fingers through his curls, they were damp with sweat. He hummed, not minding, just holding him close as he melted against him.

Eventually, Jaskier stretched, letting his arm flop against Geralt’s chest and legs tangle with his once more. He almost made an effort to open his eyes. Almost. Instead he frowned lightly, nuzzling into Geralt and as he moved impossibly closer.

“Want me to return the favor, love?” His words were light things that could have been carried off by the wind if Geralt’s hearing had been even slightly worse.

In truth, Geralt was turned on. How could he not be when Jaskier had ridden his thigh and stomach so beautifully? But he thought it over for a minute, the cool breeze tickling his face with a few stray white hairs, the scent of wildflowers coming back to him as the one of arousal dissipated.

“No,” he said finally, pulling Jaskier closer to kiss the top of his head. Despite the interest his body had shown he found he wasn’t in the mood himself, content enough to let Jaskier have his pleasure and leave it at that.

Jaskier just hummed, not questioning him further, and a small smile tugged at Geralt’s lips knowing there would be no hurt feelings over it. His bard’s fingers eventually went back to lazily tracing patterns into his skin, though he made a bit of a yucky face when they found the sticky mess he’d left of Geralt’s stomach hairs. Still they were both far too content to clean up just yet, not even wasting the energy to tuck Jaskier’s softening cock back away in his pants as they laid there, relaxed, enjoying the non-harsh sun and the clouds that lazed across the sky overhead.

“Coin for your thoughts?” Jaskier whispered into his chest after a time, and Geralt grunted, not even opening his eyes to look down as he responded.

“A bigger food budget.”

A moment later, and Jaskier’s laugh filled the field around them, sharp and uncontained, a laugh that was so far away from the performance he played that it drew a chuckle out of Geralt as well. That they could be themselves around each other, that they could be so carefree and human, was the most joyous thing Geralt had ever found in his long, long life - and that they’d discovered a new way to have fun was exciting, and Geralt was certainly going to take advantage of this new discovery. How could he not, when his reward was a well-pleased bard melting in his arms.

[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

[the-piece-of-spadille]

Hey!!!! Can I ask ummmm nsfw scenario of Trafalgar Law x shy! fem! S/O? Okay, Law use this prompt 37, 43, 50. So, I have read that I can use 3 prompts. But I have choose one character so... I hope that's alright for you.... And that's it. Take your time.😊

Hey Anon! Thank you for requesting. Sorry this took so long to make. I’m a little rusty in the NSFW department. I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it out!

Warning: NSFW 18+  

Word Count: 1.7k

Hell must have frozen over to allow both Trafalgar D. Water Law and Eustass Kid to lay anchor at the same island and run into each other at the bar. Both crews are watching from afar on opposite sides, placing bets on what’s going to happen next.

It’s not like Law to get jealous. He’s confident in himself and in the relationship the two of you formed in stone. He knows whole heartily he’d never have to worry about cheating, but that bastard Eustass Kid just rubs him the wrong way. If it weren’t for him already having made a promise to you earlier in the week for a weekend without violence, he’d probably being fighting right about now.

You were only meant to go to the bar and get a few drinks for your table when you grabbed the attention of the scarred pirate captain. Eustass found out easily that you’re rather shy and took advantage of that. He managed to talk his way into you into taking a seat at the bar next to him while waiting for the bartender to come over.

Truth be told Eustass just wants to cause trouble per usual and see just how far he can go until he gets under the Surgeon of Death’s skin. And if he’s lucky maybe a fight would break out. He made causal bar talk and you only replied to be polite and to keep things civil. You knew of his reputation and all you wanted was a night of peace. Eustass however, decides to kick things up a notch. He throws out his charm and starts to get a little flirty to see if you’ll take the bait.

Eustass doesn’t know that you’re dating Law, in fact nobody does for your safety. He just sees a pretty girl that happens to be part of Law’s crew, but he had his suspicions. He can feel the Surgeons eyes watching him ever since you walked up to the bar. And to your luck just as the bartender walks over, he says he has to go retrieve more sake from the cellar.

You let out an audible sigh at having to wait longer while the rival captain smirks. He moves closer and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, but you quickly shrug it off. You turn and look up at him to tell him to knock it off when you noticed his attention elsewhere again. 

Every time he made some type of advancement or flirty comment, he wasn’t looking for your reaction, but your captains. He was using you to get to your captain, but for what? Deciding to play into this little game, you stay seated to figure out his intent with your lover no matter how anxious your starting to feel.  

Law thus far has remained calm, only giving Kid an unreadable expression. It wasn’t until Eustass offered you his drink to ease your discomfort that Law visually saw how nervous you were getting. You were used to fighting other captains and the like, not sitting next to one at a bar, and certainly not being flirted with by one. Eustass nudges his drink over to you in hopes to calm you. You’re not his target for the night, he doesn’t wish to make you uncomfortable.

Law isn’t sure what it is about that drink that makes his blood boil. He knows it’s not poisoned; he’s been watching Kid like a hawk and just saw him drink from it. Maybe it was the fact it was Kid’s own drink that he’s drank from at the bar. It was childish of him to get jealous over your lips touching the same glass as Kid’s. It’s not remotely the same as kissing, yet Law felt the need to cut him in half with the full intent to leave him that way.

At first you tried to decline the drink nicely, but he insisted, saying that it looked like you could use one to ease your nerves. He gave you a smile, though in his true devilish fashion. When you picked up the glass just as expected, Eustass’s attention again went straight to the man standing in the back corner. You figured if you played your cards right, you’d get closer to finding out what he wanted with Law and so you throw your head back, downing the drink. Eustass then has the audacity to smirk over at Law.

Trafalgar having enough of Eustass’s childish games uses “Room” to create a spherical territory. It quickly enveloped the entirety of the bar, grabbing the attention of all the pirates and other guests. In an instant your body is teleported by his side and an empty shot glass in your place next to Eustass. Wasting no time Law grabs your hand and quickly walks out the bar leaving behind an amused Kid.

“That was dangerous (Y/n)-ya,” continuing to pull you away from the bar and towards the safety of your home for the night. “I was just trying to keep things civil- Hey! Slow down a little please.” He didn’t. He kept the same pace until he reached the door only stopping to unlock it.

“I only wanted to know what his deal was with you” you state innocently. “He wasn’t interested in me.” He opened the door and stepped aside to let you in first. Inside he closes the door a little harsher than he wanted to, he’s not angry at you, just angry that Kid was getting under his skin. That he was flirting with you right in front of him. He grumbles as he reminded himself about the stupid drink you shared and grew jealous again.

Law pulls you against him and urgently covers your lips with his own. Hands cupping your face while he feverishly kisses you with passion, cleaning your lips of any trace of that damn liquor. Grabbing his coat to keep yourself balanced from the sudden kiss, you almost yelp when he bites down on your bottom lip.

He picks you up, giving your ass a generous squeeze before crossing the small home, laying you down onto the soft bed. You take this opportunity to catch your breath from the unexpected kiss while Law stands at the foot of the bed and starts to shrug off his layers of clothes. His golden orbs sinfully watching you, running all over your form as he undresses.

He only manages to take off everything on his upper half, before leaning over your much smaller frame, caging you underneath him, his weight anchoring you in place. Your face flushed from how he looks at you. Law gently licks at your sore lip from where he bit you, giving you a much gentler kiss to say sorry as you run your hands through his dark raven colored hair.

Ever so slowly his hands trail down your curves and starts undressing you while his tongue dances sinfully with yours. Tossing away your clothing, you lay only in your bra and panties while he grinds his clothed cock against your dampening core. Pulling away to let out a soft moan. “You like that Kitten?”

Continuing his motions with his hips, Law starts moving his lips away from yours, leaving a wet trail of kisses down the jaw and neck. Making sure to leave a few marks on your neck that will surely darken. “Law please” you cried.

“Please what, love?”

Your face flushes at the thought of asking. It doesn’t matter that you’ve done it before, asking to feel his lips where you’re most sensitive still leaves you bashful. Law knows what you want but he loves teasing you into saying it. His sweet little Kitten always so shy to ask him to give you oral.

“Please Law I need you.”

“Where do you need me baby” he says in that deep seductive voice, looking into your eyes. You can see that start of a smirk forming across his face. His hand trailing down, “right here?” The pad of his finger lazily stroking over your clothed damping core.

“Yes! Right there” you exclaim as your hips buck. With one last lingering kiss to your lips, he starts his slow decent towards your aching core, removing that last barrier of clothing that’s keeping him from you.

Law rubs his finger across your slit, placing small kisses on the inside of your thighs leading closer and closer to your core. You need more friction and try to move your hips, but Law holds you in place. “Patience baby. All good things come to those who wait.” He toys with you a little longer before making sure his finger is coated in your slick, pushing it inside to earn a light moan from you.

He gives you a few more thrusts with his finger before giving you a gentle lick. “Fuck” you moan, tossing your head back into the pillows. You can practically feel the smile on his face. Adding another finger to the mix to help get you ready for what’s to come.  “So pretty and wet, just for me.”

Law’s tongue licking at your folds while his thumb rubs mercilessly at your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Let me hear you Kitten.” You do as he says. Needing something to hold onto, you reach down and tug at his hair, making him groan into you. Hips squirming at the jolts of pleasure, “Show how loud I can make you. Let that red headed bastard know who you belong to.”

You can feel the feel yourself getting closer to the edge. Finding it hard to stay still, your hips squirming, being so close to becoming undone. Law pushes his fingers back inside and attacks your bundle of nerves once again with his mouth. Turning you into a moaning mess. “Law! I’m close!” He can feel you tightening around his fingers.

“That’s is baby. Cum for me.”

Law’s other hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers together just as you find euphoria. Squeezing your eyes shut at the pleasure finally going over the edge. Moaning his name so loud, you hope no one else is around to save you from embarrassment.  

Law giving your sensitive cunt one last kiss before making his way up to you, giving you a searing hot kiss so you can taste yourself on his lips. Pulling away so you can catch your breath. You can feel the prominent bulge in his pants, rubbing against you. Telling you the night has only begun. Law places a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Good girl.”