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a-killer-obsession · 7 months ago

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Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 21 - Talk

Maybe things don't always have to hurt, it's about time you had that talk.

WC: ~3.5k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

The night after running from Killer's room fucking sucked. He still wasn't at dinner that evening but you didn't stay for long anyway, you didn't have much of an appetite. The others were thankful that you'd at least tried, even if it hadn't worked. You showered and went to bed early, mostly because Heat was on night watch and you had both hoped you could fall asleep before he had to leave. It was helpful for him to get a little sleep as well before he had to go. Unfortunately though you woke up when he left, and try as you might you simply couldn't get back to sleep.

Finally around three in the morning you caved and decided to go do something else. You thought maybe you might just join Heat for the watch, until you spotted Kid's workshop light on. It wasn't super unusual for him to be burning the midnight oil, but 3am seemed late even by his standards. Normally you wouldn't even consider going to him, but since you'd woken up in the infirmary he'd been so much softer with you, and you started to feel like there was a real friendship forming there. Maybe he needed someone, you thought, while Killer was ‘unavailable’. Maybe he was lonely, even.

You knocked on the door, not sure if he would even answer. He opened it with his devil fruit, not looking up from whatever he was working on at his desk. You'd only been in here once, when he gave you the bracelet, so you still had the same curiosity, peering around the room to observe everything that it contained. You noticed now the red velvet couch that sat up against the far wall, you weren't sure if it was new or if you just hadn't noticed it last time.

“What's up Heat, something wrong?” he asked without turning around. Ah, he must have thought Heat had something to report, since he was on watch.

“I, um... sorry maybe I should just go,” you said nervously, turning to leave.

“No, wait!” He closed the door with his fruit as he swivelled on his stool, “Stay, please.” Your heart ached for him, he really did sound lonely.

“Okay, I'll stay,” you forced a smile for him and sat on the couch, “you're up late” you pointed out.

“Couldn't sleep,” he sighed, “you?”

“I can't seem to get to sleep these days without someone holding me,” you admitted, kicking a small screw on the floor, “it's too hard to shut my brain off. Usually Heat stays with me, but he's on watch”

“I get it,” he fiddled with something on his table but he wasn't really paying attention to it, “do you… want me to hold you? I know you're maybe still scared of me but we can just stay here if it makes you more comfortable, you can sleep on the couch if you want, I don't think I'll be getting any sleep any time soon anyway”

You thought about his proposal for a minute before giving him a shy nod. He stood and strode to the couch, sitting on the other end so his metal arm hung over the side, and opened his other arm out for you. You slid in nervously, wrapping an arm around his waist and nuzzling in to get comfortable. He was so warm and wide, with a soft layer of fat that covered his muscles and made him nice to cuddle up with. You got the sense he didn't do this often though, and he let out a little sigh when you gave him a gentle squeeze, his arm starting to stroke your back soothingly. There was nothing sexual about this, but it was a sweet, tender moment you didn't expect from someone with such a rough exterior. The Kid Pirates always found ways to surprise you.

“For the record, I don't think I'm scared of you anymore,” you whispered as you got comfortable. There really was no fear in you right now, you felt perfectly safe with Kid in this moment, “I know we got off on the wrong foot given my history with authority figures, but you've never actually done anything to hurt me, it just took some time for me to realise that. Nobody in charge of me ever actually cared about me before, but I know now that you do. I feel safe here”

“I'm glad,” he let out a breath that sounded like relief, “a captain should always make you feel safe. This is your home, you shouldn't ever be scared in it”

“I'm sorry about Killer,” you sighed, “I tried to talk to him but I ended up blowing up like I always do”

“He'll come right,” Kid stroked your back softly, “thank you for trying though. Get some sleep girlie, I ain't going anywhere”

You hummed softly in response and closed your eyes, listening to Kid's rhythmic heartbeat as it lulled you into a much needed sleep.

A few hours later, driven by his curiosity after seeing you enter the workshop, Heat snuck in quietly after being relieved from his watch. You and Kid were both deep asleep, snoring softly. Kid was still sitting upright, his head lolled back and resting against the back of the couch, and you had slid down, now using his thick thigh as a pillow. It warmed his heart to see the two of you together after worrying that you'd never be able to feel safe with Kid. He took Kid's coat from where it sat discarded on the floor and laid it over you like a blanket, before turning the light off and leaving you both to sleep.

You were woken by the soft whispers of a conversation you weren't a part of, your tired head heavy against Kid's leg, his flesh hand on your back over the top of what seemed like a thick, fluffy blanket. One of the voices was his, the other a soft baritone coming from your level. You realised Killer was here, sitting on the floor with his head resting on Kid's other knee while they talked quietly so as not to wake you. Judging by the unmuffled quality of his voice you guessed he wasn't wearing his mask.

“This isn't your fault Kil, you need to stop blaming yourself,” Kid whispered.

“I know I hurt her so badly though,” Killer sighed, “nobody else can be blamed for that”

“You were just doing what you thought was right,” Kid replied, “you're not well, and I know how you think, you just didn't want to burden her. You couldn't have known how deep your feelings both ran”

“I want to get better though,” Killer whispered, “I want to be good for her. But I don't know if she'll ever forgive me”

Killer's eyes suddenly widened and his head shot up, spooking Kid, as his haki alerted him to the fact you were awake. You blinked at him sleepily, then reached out a hand to touch his unmasked face tenderly. The frightened look in his eyes faded a little at your touch but he still looked nervous.

“Kid, can you give us some space?” You asked as you sat up on the couch. He gave Killer a reassuring pat on the back before standing up and quietly leaving. He didn't need to be asked twice, he wanted nothing more than for the two of you to finally talk. Killer looked like he was about to bolt so you calmly pat the space Kid had left on the couch, indicating for him to come sit next to you. He did so hesitantly, and you moved the blanket, that you now realised was Kid's coat, so it covered both of you as you shuffled in to rest your head against his chest. It was partially because you were a little cold with the absence of Kid's warmth and wanted him to hold you, but also partially because it'd be harder for him to flee if you were on him. He was tense at first, but noticeably relaxed when you wrapped an arm around his waist and gave him a little reassuring squeeze.

“Are you feeling any better?” You asked him with a little yawn.

“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled, trying to decide if this was some sort of trick, or if maybe he was dreaming, “thanks for bringing the meds”

“Mmm,” you replied, nuzzling in to him sleepily, “I think its time we have that talk”

Killer sighed but put a arm around you as the other ran through his hair. It was noticeably tidier than last night, and he smelled like he'd recently showered, all good signs in your books. “I'm not sure what to say,” he admitted.

“Its okay, neither did I,” you replied, “but I thought long and hard about it, and I had good talks with Kid and Heat after I woke up, and I think I understand now. I think you're right, we're not good for each other. But that doesn't mean we can't be”

“I don't think I'm following,” he sighed.

“We're sick, Kil,” you explained, “not just you, both of us. I went through a lot, not just the last few weeks, but my whole life. I thought I wasn't capable of ever feeling happy till I came here, I even told Heat once that I didn't think I was capable of love, but you proved that wrong for me. But, especially after recent events, I'm not ready to be in a relationship, I'm not ready to open up fully and make myself vulnerable by bareing it all, and I think that's maybe how you feel as well. But that doesn't mean I don't want to. I know you regret how things ended on the island, but I understand how you feel and why you made that choice at the time. I thought when we got home that I could just ignore it, I thought it was just a crush and I'd get past it, because I didn't think I was capable of feeling more. But no matter how much I ignore it, the feeling doesn't go away. It's like a grass seed, digging deeper and deeper, and I feel like its going to kill me if I don't say something”

You sat up to look him directly in the eye. His icy blues were flicking between yours with uncertainty, waiting for you to finish explaining. “I love you, Kil, I know that now. It's not just some puppy love crush, I love you. But I'm not ready to open up right now. I want to, I really do, I just need some time. And I think you do too, I think maybe we're both hurting ourselves and each other like this because neither of us thought the other would be willing to wait, neither of us thought ourselves worth waiting for. But I am willing, Kil. I'll wait forever if I have to. I just need to know that you'll wait for me too”

Killer looked like he was about to cry as he nervously nodded. “I love you too, and I'll wait as long as it takes, please keep waiting for me. I want to get better, I really do. I'm taking the meds now, I'm following Mohawk's advise, I'm trying, I really am”

“I know baby,” you stroked his cheek and wiped a stray tear that had fallen, “I'm going to talk to Mohawk and ask him for meds as well, I want to get better too. Right now, this is enough for me. Just being close to you, and knowing that you're healing. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, we're going to get better, together”

“Can I kiss you?” He asked shyly. His eyes flicked between yours and your lips.

“Just this once,” you said, “I don't want to risk things getting out of hand until we know we're both in the right headspace for it”

He nodded and leaned towards you, pressing a gentle, loving kiss to your mouth. You sighed into the kiss and pressed back, the two of you staying like that for a few minutes, just quietly pressing soft kisses and rubbing your noses together, till you finally pulled away.

“I missed you,” you mumbled into his chest as you nuzzled back into it. “If this is going to work though you have to accept that I'm in a really delicate place right now, so Heat has been staying with me to help me sleep. There's nothing between us though, just friendship, just like last night with Kid, I'm sure walking in on me sleeping on him can't have been nice for you”

“He explained,” Killer replied, “I was more surprised than anything that he was being so soft with you. He usually only treats me like that”

“Kid is soft with you?” You couldn't help but snort, “I find that hard to believe. Then again, I have only recently discovered this more tender side of him”

“He's the only one who can handle me when I'm having a manic episode,” Killer explained, “he holds me through them”

“The relationship you guys have his so sweet,” you mused.

“We've known each other since we were kids,” Killer explained, “I basically raised him, neither of us had our parents around. He's been with me since well before my first breakdown, he made me the mask to try and reduce them”

“I see,” you mused, “so it's your fault hes such a shithead”

“Oi,” Killer half laughed, “we didn't have a great childhood but I did what I could”

“Jokes aside, he's a good man, and I'm sure that's your doing,” you replied, “you're both good men. I'm glad to have met you”

“I'm glad the two of you are getting along now,” Killer hummed, “he said you told him you feel safe now”

“Cos I do,” you smiled, “this is my home. I thought maybe you guys had abandoned me when it took so long to come get me but Wire explained why you had to wait”

“I'm really sorry we weren't there sooner,” he sighed.

“It's okay, I had your sash to keep me company,” you hummed, “and to be honest, the kiss was what kept me going. I think I would have given up a lot earlier if I didn't have the hope that you loved me”

Killer sighed and pulled you closer, almost into his lap, so he could wrap both arms around you. You burried your heads in each other's shoulders as he breathed you in. “I'm sorry for running when you woke up, I just got so scared”

“You weren't in a good headspace Killer, it's okay,” you said softly, “it's all in the past now. And for the record, it wasn't your fault I couldn't breathe, I had a broken rib and not enough painkillers”

“Oh,” Killer cursed himself for his over reaction.

“Mohawk has me on some good stuff now, so its okay,” you gave him a reassuring squeeze, “everything is healing well, I'll be back to normal in a few weeks”

“And what about… your mental health?” He tried to phrase it in a way that wouldn't trigger you, “Have you talked to anyone about what happened? Did you want to talk?”

“I'm okay Kil,” you smiled, “well, I mean to be honest I've been having some dark thoughts lately, but it's not exactly new for me. I've been having them since I was a kid. But that's why I'm gonna ask Mohawk for help. I never had any metric for what it feels like to be happy, so it was definitely a lot scarier and more traumatic this time compared to before I joined the crew. But at least now I know that I'm safe and I'm held and I have people around me who care. It sucked, but I'm gonna be okay I think. It's not as hopeless as it used to be, I have people to live for now”

Killer sniffed and you realised he was crying. “Aw, Kil, do you want to talk?” You held his face and wiped his tears with your thumbs.

“No, I'm okay,” he sniffed and smiled at you, “I'm just so glad that we found you”

“Hey, there's that smile I love,” you smiled back at him. You expected him to pull away at the mention of his smile like he had on the island, but instead the smile widened, which only made you beam more. “You're so beautiful Killer, I hope I can help you learn that for yourself”

“You're already helping,” he sniffed.

“Speaking of learning, I think you should teach me to read again,” you cuddled back into him, sliding on to his lap to sit across it so you could wrap your arms around him better and rest your head against his chest. “Don't get me wrong, I want Heat to keep teaching me too, but it wouldn't hurt to have twice the lessons, I feel like I'm really getting somewhere with them”

“I'd like that,” he rested his chin on the top of your head, “I missed you so much”

“I missed you too, Kil,” you hummed, “we should go get breakfast though, I'm not the only one that missed you”

“Ah, you're probably right,” he sighed, “okay, let's go then. But I want more cuddles later”

“Deal,” you smiled as you stood and offered him a hand to pull him up.

The tension in the air noticeably lifted as you approached the breakfast table, the other commanders all visibly perking up as they noticed Killer in tow behind you. Some of them hadn't seen him all week, and relief washed over the group. Heat squeezed your hand under the table as you sat, unbelievably thankful that your talk last night had gotten Killer out of his room after all, and you gave him a sincere smile in response. Moods were much improved with the return of the first mate, and everyone made enthusiastic conversation around you. No longer afraid of looking at him, you caught Killer watching you, and gave him a cheerful smile in response, tapping his leg with your foot under the table. He gave a huff in reply, but you could tell he was smiling under the mask.

“What's the plan now then, cap?” You hummed.

“Well that depends, Mohawk, how's her recovery looking?” He replied, pointing a knife at the doctor before shovelling eggs into his mouth.

“Her rib was already healing when she got back, and the rest of her wounds are also healing well now that she's free of infection,” he was waving his fork in your direction to indicate to you as he spoke, “best guess is she'll be fighting shape in another week”

“Good,” Kid huffed, “Double tells me we'll be hitting a resupply island in a couple of days, after that I'd like to explore one of the islands Killer and Yin retrieved a map for. It looks like it may have been used as a halfway point for marines to stash weapons and supplies, it's not on any of our maps but we have a matching eternal pose for it. Could be an easy win. Double thinks probably only the marines know about the island, so they won't be expecting us, might not even be guarding it”

“How far off from the resupply island is it?” Wire asked.

“Hard to be exact,” Kid replied, egg flying out of his mouth and hitting your mask as he spoke. You huffed in annoyance and saw Killer's shoulders move in silent laughter, he was the only one who had noticed as you wiped the egg indignantly from your visor. “He's been watching the pose to see how it shifts as we move, so he has a pretty good guess on where it is. He estimated three days from the resupply, but he couldn't give me an exact”

While Kid was talking you noticed his almost full tankard of beer and decided to play a prank in response to the literal egg on your face. You nodded your head at Killer, getting his attention, before gesturing it towards the tankard. When you were sure he was watching you made most of the beer invisible, making it look almost empty. He looked back at you, shaking his head very slightly, warning you it was a bad idea. You nodded back, a mischievous smirk on your face as you pushed your chair away from the table just a little, in preparation to flee.

“I'll get started on the resupply list then,” Heat added, “I think we're low on bullets after the marine base, the last island didn't have a great black market”

“The books are looking good though,” Wire noted, “we got plenty of sellable loot from the base, we shouldn't have need for a raid for a while”

“Good, good,” Kid hummed as he picked up his tankard. You watched with bated breath as he looked inside, a confused frown on his face, before tipping it almost upside-down to get the last drops left, just as you had planned. Immediately he was soaked with beer, and you broke into a fit of giggles, fleeing before he could put two and two together. He roared behind you as you ran, the rest of the commanders bursting into laughter as they realised what had happened. Later he'd finally catch you, and you'd be forced to clean the toilet in his room as punishment, but it was worth it in your mind.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates

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notmorbid · 1 year ago

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transitory.

dialogue prompts from transitory by tobias carroll.

music makes everything in my life seem like a montage.

there's no way of knowing what's to come.

when did we first meet?

i don't think i can remember a time when i didn't know you.

i did that, didn't i?

i miss the weird. i'm trying to get the weird back.

the song's just been on my mind.

i'd go just about anywhere for ____. burn any bridge that needed it.

sometimes i think i dreamt the whole thing.

the right film can colonize you.

you could fight a ghost, but you'd never win.

is there a story here?

we part ways after this.

i say what's expected and do my best not to fuck up the rest.

i can't talk to you right now.

phones always sound like pain.

you look a lot like picasso when he was old.

we will sleep in shifts.

no one's ever gotten it on their first attempt.

i learned on my own. i had to.

i feel this charge whenever you're in a room.

you're seeing things that don't exist.

i'm burning the midnight oil.

i'm seeing what i can overturn inside my head.

i like having a wall between work and not-work.

i always cared for you. i don't know if you ever knew.

i think i fell in love with you and realized it was a lost cause all at the same time.

you want to get a pint?

who does this night find you courting?

i put my life in a broken suitcase, and one day i looked back to see the pieces of it trailing behind.

fuck jukeboxes.

you got a light?

i stopped fighting when it hurt too much.

i am nowhere you can find me.

#rp meme #rp memes #sentence starters #ask memes #inbox memes #ask meme

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zzmemes · 2 years ago

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Mission Hill “How to Get Head in Business Without Really Trying” sentence starters

“Hey, wanna take off early?”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but... You have sense of humor cancer.”

“My jaw hurts, could I stop praising you for a little while?”

“It’s getting late. Am I gonna crash here or what?”

“Just so we’re clear, you want your freedom to sleep around because you’re not ready for something serious, right?”

“Oh, I’m looking for something serious.”

“Why must I do everything myself? I need an assistant.”

“Where is Moron?”

“I don’t have time to be your assistant.”

“I hate your guts.”

“Believe it or not, not everybody’s life revolves around money. Some of us have dreams.”

“Not just money: sex, too.”

“That was my best stuff, too.”

“Why can’t you just eat your own puke like every other dog?”

“Get ready to purr with excitement!”

“Look at these regular people with their regular jobs: they’ve all given up on their dreams, and they seem happy.”

“You must have training! You must have discipline! Eh, that’s enough for today, let’s party.”

“First rule of management: you must look like a manager.”

“Sexy, huh? You like, no?”

“Holy Krypton! You’re wearing a suit!”

“Hey, cartoonists can’t afford suits. What did you do?”

“I don’t know about this promotion... What if I get used to this? The perks, the easy money...”

“Management training! And don’t forget your massage oil!”

“Fianceé? When did that happen?”

“You’re ruining everything! Go away!”

“Mmn, I’m not in the mood for a threesome.”

“Relax. I’m worried about you, [NAME].”

“I can explain! She was having a medical emergency, and she took off her clothes!”

“You’re not mad that I made out with your fianceé?”

“Burning the old midnight oil last night? Or were you just rubbing it on each other?”

“Congratulations: you’ve become everything you hate.”

“Does sex always sound like that?”

“Where do you keep the cocaine in this joint?”

“I make money, I have sex constantly, and nobody sends me any pissy letters about how much they hate my work.”

“What about your creative fulfillment?”

“I’ll die if I have to get a white collar job. All that typing and all those complicated telephones.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not comfortable celebrating your sordid accomplishments.”

“I’d rather just eat in my room.”

“Looks like it’s just you and me, babycakes.”

“I’m on the verge of finally accomplishing something, and you wanna drag me back to the past?”

“Put down the imaginary knife before you pretend to hurt yourself.”

“The IRS thinks I’m dead, so you sign everything.”

“Tell me, do you have much experience in the... Erotic entertainment business?”

“If people really understood Kafka’s work, they wouldn’t bandy his name about so carelessly.”

“I don’t wanna devote my life to running a strip club.”

“Thanks, [NAME], all your annoying meddling really did me some good.”

“You got more than money. You regained your self-respect.”

“You’re dripping food on the couch.”

#rp memes #sentence starters

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bio-life-boost · 1 year ago

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What to do when dark circles don't want to leave your life? Does the famous cucumber on the eyes really work? Come with me and I have selected some infallible methods.

How to Say Goodbye to Under-Eye Circles

Hey there! So, you're here because you're tired of those stubborn under-eye circles making you look like you've been burning the midnight oil. No worries – we've got your back! This isn't just another run-of-the-mill guide; it's your ultimate handbook to help you banish those pesky dark circles for good.

Let's Get to the Bottom of This

Before we jump into the cool remedies, let's chat about what's causing those under-eye circles. After all, knowing your enemy is the first step to victory, right?

Lack of Zzz's

You know those nights when you traded sleep for an extra episode of your favorite show? Well, your under-eye circles remember those too. When you skimp on sleep, the blood vessels beneath your eyes get all rowdy and start peeking through your skin, making you look like you've been on an all-nighter.

Blame it on Genetics

Sometimes, it's not your fault – it's in your genes. If your folks or grandparents had under-eye circles, guess what? You're in the club!

Allergies, Anyone?

Allergies are another sneak attack on your under-eye area. They trigger inflammation, release histamines, and, voilà, you've got those dark circles staring back at you in the mirror.

Aging Gracefully

As we age, our skin decides to thin out and lose some collagen, revealing those blood vessels. So, thank you, aging, for this little gift.

If you are looking for a solution to improve the appearance of your skin, reducing wrinkles and expression lines, I bring you something new: >>>Try this today<<<

At-Home Solutions to the Rescue

Now that we've got the scoop on the culprits, let's talk about easy, at-home fixes to say goodbye to those circles.

1. Cucumber Coolness

You've seen it in movies for a reason. Cucumber slices are like a spa day for your eyes. They're cool, refreshing, and they'll help reduce puffiness.

2. Brew Some Tea

Don't toss those used tea bags! They're your secret weapon. Opt for tea with caffeine to shrink blood vessels and lighten the dark areas.

3. Bring on the Cold

A good old cold compress can work wonders. It reduces puffiness and gets your blood circulation flowing in the right direction.

4. Hydrate Like Your Skin Depends on It

Spoiler: it does! Dehydration can make under-eye circles look worse, so grab that water bottle and start sipping.

5. Beauty Sleep

Let's not underestimate the power of a good night's sleep. Aim for 7-8 hours of beauty rest to wake up feeling refreshed and looking less like a raccoon.

Skincare Heroes

Besides these home remedies, there are some fantastic skincare products to help you on your quest to brighter eyes.

1. Eye Creams to the Rescue

Look for eye creams with superstar ingredients like retinol, hyaluronic acid, and vitamin C. They'll smooth out your skin and make those circles history.

2. Sunscreen: Your BFF

Protect your skin from the sun's harmful rays. Sun exposure can worsen your under-eye circles, so slather on that sunscreen.

When All Else Fails: Go Pro!

If you're looking for some heavy artillery to tackle those dark circles, consider these professional treatments:

1. Chemical Peels: The Glow Getter

Chemical peels can do wonders for your skin texture and fade pigmentation, including those under-eye circles.

2. Dermal Fillers: Plump It Up

Dermal fillers add some much-needed volume to the under-eye area, making those dark circles vanish.

3. Laser Therapy: Laser Magic

Laser treatments target the pesky blood vessels causing discoloration, giving you an even skin tone.

Prevention is the Best Medicine

Remember, while these remedies and treatments are fantastic, the best defense is a good offense. Keep a healthy lifestyle, get enough sleep, and shield your skin from the sun – that's the ultimate secret to keeping those under-eye circles at bay.

In a nutshell, under-eye circles are no match for you. With the knowledge of their causes and these fantastic remedies and treatments, you'll soon say goodbye to those tired, panda eyes. So go on, embrace these solutions, and let's bid adieu to those pesky circles together!

If you are looking for a solution to improve the appearance of your skin, reducing wrinkles and expression lines, I bring you something new: >>>Try this today<<<

#under eye dark circles #under eye cream #health care #healthy aging #health tips

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ivorypidgeon · 2 years ago

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And On The Eighth Day

And on the eighth day

God made New York,

And everything far and in between,

Thus I spoke,

To my coffee cup that never runs dry,

In this diner down by the Lex,

My mind has been off it, the -

They don’t joke when they say the city doesn’t sleep

My eyes haven’t closed in over 30 hours,

That same glare I recognise in the fluorescent glass,

Thinking of her, thinking of New York

Soaked, coarsed and poached in my double denim,

I think of past ramblings

In the city with you,

That beloved smell of concrete, grease and gas,

Hardened by steel, a cigarette and a spliff on a sun-beaten court in Chinatown,

Overlooking the giant burning meteorite in the sky,

I think of,

The blue ink staining my napkin,

I think of,

Getting my hair braided behind a deli on Graham,

I think of,

Coconut oil cakes topped with condensed milk,

Oh, my desire,

In this little garden of Eden,

Where I drink from the fountain of my youth,

Purple capes dancing in the wind,

Smiling, for this glorious picture day,

Grins all over the town,

Drums bang and the Washington Arch vibrates,

One nation under one groove,

What is this,

Like ballet dancers, they float,

Top off like a convertible,

Top off like I just got laid out on the checkerboard,

One deep breath before I,

Spout off again and tumble through the weeds in this grand wondrous endless painless plain,

In the centre of my heart,

I clasped on that necklace,

I held on to that love, my want and our lack,

Permanent like the pyramids of Egypt,

Permanent like this frightened moment of oneness - my loneliness,

Preserved without air,

Under the ground straggling for room in this infinite sarcophagus,

The skulls of millions lining the countless steps,

Our blood splashed over this mighty flag,

And His naked body, Justice, hammered on a perpendicular wood beam,

A cross for us to all bear,

This mighty city,

With its resounding chaos,

Sprawling over the pavement searching for one more meaning,

To this untiring fabled story we call life

I’m thinking of,

I’m thinking of the biiiiiiig city.

Even when the rainclouds come,

I’m still swinging by the telephone poles,

To hear you say, you’re in love with this guy,

If not, I’ll just —

After all, I’m living, learning, stumbling,

Side by side,

So you can hear me scream,

Hallelujah all the way from the upper west side,

Just one postcard memory,

Scrawled over my face in a mirror in a bathroom in a bar in Brooklyn,

Then back on the subway with a new friend or two or three,

Shaking with the streetcar we found in the Hudson,

But wait,

Please remember that…

If I lost your love,

I’d never want to let you down,

Never want you to forget this loveliness,

That we found in the bottom of the takeout box,

Or the end of a joint we rolled a summer ago,

As we barrel down the 390,

Thinking how did we get here,

How do we fix this,

And my chalk cracked on the asphalt,

I’m sorry,

I’m thinking offffff,

I’m thinking of the trees that line your backyard,

The smell of fresh cut grass and a grill burning, billowing smoke,

As the sprinklers crack and splinter into your dog’s gaping jaws,

I’m thinking of,

The smooth plain we call your abdomen that I laid my head down,

Waiting for that midnight bodily howl that we found in your dashboard next to the

Red Stripes we found by a lake that sat near the highway 405,

I’ve come, come from miles away,

Just to see you,

Hear you say those words again,

Like, I love you or something like that,

My word and your bond,

And I’m not just cheering from the bleachers,

When I jump across the base and run all the way home,

Back into your everlasting arms,

I’m thinking of,

Chapels on mountains,

Maple syrup hills and the hum of your car like it just needed

some love,

This summer camp madness got us going crazy

Had us singing to the birds,

Like we were barking mad,

Like we were swimming, waiting for the shit just to hit me,

Waiting for the pollen clouds to wash over us and send us adrift,

Over these worlds of wheat and fields of grain.

On these cemetery blues,

And some wild pony ashes,

Got my top off like a ‘Vette,

Thinking of the first night we met,

Head in my hands then hand in hand,

Cruising down the interstate and rumbling through my woven hairs,

I thought I had already seen it like a deer caught in the headlights

In this room, we are empty,

Under this moon, we are one

Down Crescent Avenue,

Under the rusted bridges,

And the chemtrail candy skies

All these dreams, my memories

One order of a burger, milkshake and fries then

Waking up without you,

Back to the tarred monoliths,

And then the white sky,

But until I see you again,

Drive safe.

#poetry #poem

0 notes

blueberrysnake · 2 years ago

Text

Tommy's Secret

Summary:

Tom had been bad at expressing emotions to his friends on a regular day. When he accidentally messes something up for Ranboo and makes him almost miss his flight to America? Oh boy does Tommy try to hide it.

This was for a school assignment so I hope yall enjoy it because I got a 90% on it!

Chapter 1/1

On ao3 if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37840942

Word count: 1836

As Ranboo and Tubbo looked over to the front door, they noticed the knob slowly turning, and watched as it opened carelessly. The front door slammed shut as a six-foot-two blonde British man sluggishly walked inside the shared apartment at midnight. He squinted in the darkness to make out the figures of his two friends, sitting on the back of their couch. He quickly shifted the bag he was holding so that his friends couldn’t see it. He began to mumble a small greeting before he got cut off.

“What took you so long? You told us you would be home by seven!” Tubbo questioned while getting up from his seat.

“There was traffic, I’m sorry. Like five wrecks at least.” Tommy replied, hoping his friends wouldn’t see through his all-too-obvious lie.

“I know you two need to be awake early tomorrow and I’m sorry for keeping you up this late” “It’s fine just- just lets go to sleep.” Tubbo replied with a disappointed look as Ranboo stomped on the floor to get both boys' attention.

“HAPPY YOU SAFE” He signed in British Sign Language while motioning to Tom.

“ME WORRY-FINISH” Ranboo signed as the three boys make their way to their respective bedrooms.

“I’m sorry I worried you Ranboo. I’m going to take a shower and head off to bed. Don’t burn any more of the midnight oil for me!” Tommy says as he walks into the bathroom. Just as he shut the door, he let out a big sigh of relief. He listened for the telltale sign of the other’s doors shutting, signifying that they were in their rooms.

Tommy moved to the countertop and ever-so-quietly set the bag on it. He opened it with great care and looked down at his goodies from the drugstore. It took less than a second for him to find what he was searching for: Three gold rings, wrapped in cloth from the jewelry store. One has a design of a small bee for Tubbo, one has two music disks for him, and the last has small purple sparks on every side for Ranboo. He smiled while looking at them. He knew his friends would love the promise rings.

Tommy had been wracking his brain for weeks about something to get his friends to show his appreciation to them. Tommy was never big on words, his love language was giving gifts. He hoped his friends would appreciate the sentiment and thought behind the rings, especially since they seemed to be upset at him for staying out late and keeping them up.

The thing was, Tommy had to give his friends the rings either now, or at 5:30 AM tomorrow-er today, because his friends were going on a business trip to America of all places! He was worried that his friends would forget about him while out of Britain, so he thought to get them rings. So here Tommy was, at 1 now, standing in front of his bathroom mirror staring down at the counter at the three rings. Tommy took the small circular pieces of metal out of the bag and debated gifting them now. One glance at the time on his cracked phone screen made the thought of gifting them now vanish. He elected to take a quick shower and think about how best to gift the rings.

Once he got out, dried off, and got all ready for bed in his and his friends matching PJs, it was about a quarter until two, so Tommy elected for the only reasonable option, to pull an all-nighter. Was this a choice he would probably regret come sunrise? Probably! Did Tommy care? Not at all. He had enough coffee to make it and that would give him more time to plan how to gift his friends the rings. He moved quietly to his bedroom and shut the door slowly. He tip-toed to his bed and carefully sat down.

At about three-thirty in the morning, Tommy finally decided on a plan that sounded decent enough in his head. He was going to place the rings on each of their nightstands, quieter than anyone had ever been before. He opened the door and began his way down the hall. The closest room in proximity to his was Tubbo, however, since Ranboo was such a light sleeper Tommy chose to start with the latter’s room.

He opened the door slowly and peeked his eyes into Ranboo's room. He looked straight to his friend, who was sleeping facing the door. He eyed the nightstand, a few important documents on it. Tommy took another look at his friend before stepping into the room. As stealthy as a 6 foot 3 inches tall young adult could be, he took it a step at a time. Eyeing his friend suspiciously with every breath he took. After what seemed like an eternity of creeping through the room, he finally reached the bedside table. He moved some of the documents out of the way and set the ring down. Satisfied with his work, Tommy smiled.

Suddenly Ranboo shifted in his bed. Tommy practically flew out of the room at a speed that felt faster than Usain Bolt himself could go. He shut the door quickly but quietly and immediately let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in when the door closed. He heard rustling through the door and assumed that Ranboo was just shifting in his bed. He at least hoped that Ranboo was just shifting in bed. Some of those papers were precariously placed on the edge of the bedside table.

Tommy shook his head and assured himself that everything was fine. He then began to move to Tubbo's room in order to repeat the process of placing the metal on his bedside table. Tommy made it to the door and took a deep breath in, and out. He couldn’t wait to see his friend's reactions to the surprise. He turned the knob and cracked the door open. His eyes looked through the crack in the door and searched for any sign that Tubbo was awake. Tommy only saw a large lump of blankets, slowly moving as if the blankets themselves were alive. He immediately knew it was Tubbo. As he crept over to Tubbo's nightstand, Tommy noted that Tubbo had elected to put all his important-looking documents on his desk. Tommy placed the ring on Tubbo’s nightstand and quickly left.

Later, when Tommy was just about to fall asleep, he heard two faint alarms go off in sync from both rooms. Immediately after, he heard two people shifting in their respective rooms, and he could tell the second that both of them found the ring. Tommy could tell this by the way both of them stopped moving. He decided to pretend to be asleep in case they came in to thank him because he didn’t want them to be worried for him.

So when they both quietly opened the door, letting the hallway light hit Tommy's face, and whispered a small thank you, Tommy had to fight the smile off of his face. He waited until both of them left for the airport before getting up and getting dressed in proper clothes. Once he got dressed and made himself some coffee, he decided to be productive while his friends were away. He walked to Ranboo's room and opened the door too take all of the dirty dishes out. He picked up some cups and mugs from Ranboo's desk, and a bowl from underneath his bedside table, when he noticed some papers laying next to it.

Now, Tommy never liked to think of himself as nosy. He was never one to pry into any of his friends’ personal matters. However, this looked important. Tommy realized that it was Ranboo's passport! Ranboo had always been forgetful so he always had to put things where he could see it. Tommy realized that he must had accidentally knocked over the passport when putting the ring into place.

Tommy ran out of the room and grabbed his phone. One look at life 360 showed that his friends were on their local bus to the airport. Tommy He knew that the next one going to the airport would be late enough for Ranboo to not be able to make it on the flight by the time Tommy could get his passport back to Ranboo, so Tommy decided to get an Uber to the airport. He didn’t want them to worry on the bus, so Tommy didn’t say anything to them.

After about 10 minutes, the Uber sent Tommy a text saying that they were out front. Tommy raced down to the ground level of his flat to meet his Uber. He practically flew into the backseat and yanked his seatbelt on. He explained how he needed to get to the airport extremely quickly, and the driver nodded. Eventually, Tommy got to the airport and checked his friends' location for the fifth time in ten minutes. Of course, since the bus that Ranboo and Tubbo were riding needed to make multiple stops and Tommy's Uber only needed to take Tommy to the airport, Tommy was five minutes ahead of them. He thanked the uber and got out of the car onto the busy walkways.

Tommy had barely stood for a minute at the bus unloading zone when he got a text in the group chat between him and his roommates. It was from a very panicked Ranboo who had just realized he left his passport at the flat. Tommy sent a text back explaining that he made a huge mistake and that he was sorry but the passport was with him at the airport. By this time, the bus was pulling in and all Tommy had to do was wait for his friends to come off of it.

Tubbo and Ranboo flew down the steps of the bus with their luggage and ran up to Tom.

“Thank you so much Tom! We love the rings! And you also really saved us.” Tubbo exclaimed.

“I’m glad you like the rings, but I almost made you guys miss the flight because of me. I’m sorry, I know I havent been the best friend.” Tommy replied, a frown making its way on his face.

“NO SORRY. YOU GOOD FRIEND. YOU BEST FRIEND. THANKYOU!” Ranboo signed to Tommy and then pulled him in for a hug. Tubbo promptly joined in.

Soon, Tubbo and Ranboo had to leave, and so they exchanged goodbyes with Tom. Tommy made sure they both had everything they needed and went to call another Uber to get back to the flat. He felt loved by his friends and they made him know that he is not perfect and everyone makes mistakes. When his friends got back from their trip, they all had a movie night where they all fell asleep on top of each other, and made sure to let Tommy know that he was amazing almost every day.

#blue-actually-writing #tommy #ranboo #tubbo #tommy and tubbo #tubbo and ranboo #ranboo and tommy #bench trio #ranboo uses bsl #irl fic #minecraft personas but irl #tommyinnit needs a hug #tommyinnit is sweet

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shawty-writes-a-little · 2 years ago

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heyhey id love a charles xavier x reader with prompts “is that your seventh cup of coffee?” and “when is the last time you slept?” in which charles overworks himself again? soo if u have time and obviously want to write it id be v happy! :) tysm!

HELLO LOVELY here you go <3333 (Yeo anon don’t forget to drink water)

Just an hour

Charles Xavier x fem!reader

Prompt list request

Word count: 1.2k+

Warnings: None just fluff

An: this was supposed to be a short Drabble 💀

—

The corridors of x-mansion had fallen silent for quite some time, pin drop silence given everyone had gone to bed but Charles was still up burning the midnight oil as if time wasn’t going by at the slightest. Y/n tried to sneak up on him but he heard her, even her gentle footsteps on the hardwood floor.

She wrapped her arms around his torso as he softened under her warmth “Hello darling” Charles hummed kissing the knuckles of her palms that hugged him.

“Don’t ‘hello darling’ me why are you still up?” She questioned standing beside him.

Charles let out a sigh knowing she wouldn’t let it go. “Just some work, I’ll be with you soon enough.” Though disappointed with sudden lack of closeness he again pulled her closer to him by wrapping his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head.

It always so happened that Charles would be clingy when exhausted, he was a touchy expressive lover nonetheless but even more when he’s tried “It’s 3 am already you can finish this tomorrow.”

“I’m aware but I have to finish this thesis for today fingers crossed they actually consider it for once.” He scoffed as y/n felt bad about it, a lot of times it would happen that whenever he would spend days writing a thesis putting so much effort later the research team would disregard it because ‘mutation’ was a controversial subject. It was sad to watch him come back so dejected afterwards.

“I will help you with this tomorrow just come to bed right now it’s so late as it is and—“ Charles just nodded mindlessly sipping from his cup, caffeine of course. Y/n didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that, the whole room smelled of coffee. There were empty cups lying all around and he hadn’t slept a minute since the day before obviously that’s what’s kept him going. “Uh-is that your seventh cup of coffee?”

Charles was still just slightly nodding he expected her to go on with how he should go to bed but as stubborn as he was he liked to continue to finish his thesis. Y/n waited for him to respond as he came back to his sense, “Huh-“ he recollected what she asked him “Oh the coffee yes-um probably?” He looked around the room with all the empty that were more than seven.

Y/n took the current coffee cup he had in his hands away from him and placed it far on the table “You need to take a break this is not-“

“Love it’s quite alright it’s just one day I can finish this for now.” He argued but y/n wasn’t having any of it.

“This isn’t healthy at all you’re clearly overworking yourself!” Gently she took his hands in hers “Why don’t you take a break a small break-I’m not asking you to sleep and finish this in the morning just a break? Go to sleep for an hour at least?”

“I know you’re trying to trick me into sleeping and I appreciate you doing that but I can’t show up with incomplete thesis—“

“I’m not tricking you! I’ll set a timer and wake you up in an hour myself I promise!” She exclaimed as he sighed turning back to the scattered papers on the desk. “Just an hour! Please! It isn’t even much time and you would work better with a rested mine and—“

“Alright fine!” He interrupted her midway knowing y/n wouldn’t stop until he finally gave in. “But do wake me up” he reminded her as she nodded happily.

—

The next morning Charles woke up by the sun rays beaming through the blinds with y/n close to him it felt like the most perfect place to be if only just for a moment. Soon he realised he woke up by the sun rays. The sun was already up, y/n didn’t wake him up from his sleep like she promised she would. He got tricked into this even after confirmed with her that she set the alarms. As much as he wanted to wake up y/n and tell her how cross he was with her right now she looked heavenly while asleep. He hated to ruin that peace and comfort on her face so he decided to postpone that for when she actually wakes up.

Getting out of bed he arranges the blanket over y/n again and goes back to his office. He was surprised how is desk wasn’t the same way he left it the other night, the table was arranged neatly, the coffee cups were gone moreover it didn’t look like there had happened a war in there. Y/n probably did that whilst they were talking he must’ve been too tried to notice it the other night.

On the centre of his desk he finds a well printed copy with the title of the thesis he had to present. Strange.

Charles opened it to find most of the first pages to be the ones he had written but he distinctly remembered he hadn’t yet completed it. The copy in his hands was a finished one. He skimmed through his parts and read the completed ones to him it seemed so well postured, even with a proper conclusion in the same pretext.

Joyed with the fact that he wouldn’t have to work on it for hours anymore it hit him. Y/n. Who else would’ve completed it for him? That’s why being a light sleeper y/n didn’t realise him slipping out of the bed this morning. Though hypocritical on her part, she forced him to retire to bed and probably stayed up the entire night to finish his work he thought.

Charles rushed back to their shared room and climbed back in the bed, showering her with kisses. “Good morning my love” He greeted as she fluttered her eyes.

Still tried she didn’t yet open her eyes completely and just nodded.

“Turns out my thesis is all completed.” He told her as she smiled a bit still half asleep. “That’s amazing!” Y/n said calmly suppressing a yawn.

“Do you by any chance know how that happened? Because from what I remember I hadn’t finished it.” Charles asked rhetorically snuggling her closer to him.

“Hmm? That’s weird maybe you woke up in your sleep?” Y/n joked burying her head in the crook of his neck.

“I know you’re the one who stayed up to finish it.” Charles told her as she sighed flashing a small smile. “You shouldn’t have y/n now you’re going to be all tried-“

Y/n leaned in interrupting his lecture with a short kiss just then he pulled her closer again brushing his lips against hers, “You can still make your changes though consider mine as a rough draft”

“You have no idea how perfect it is I truly appreciate it-though its unwise you stayed up the entire night finishing it for me!”

“That’s rich coming from you” she raised a brow as Charles chuckled slightly. “Also shut the blinds I’m going back to sleep.”

—

All feedbacks likes and reblogs are MUCH appreciated

Have a good day <33

#charles xavier x reader #charles xavier x you #charles xavier x reader fluff #charles xavier fluff #charles xavier #professor x #xmen x reader #xmen x you #xmen imagine #charles xavier imagine #james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy

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a-bang-for-your-bucky · 3 years ago

Text

One More Night

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, Unprotected smut (kinda rough), sex while covered in blood (I DO NOT RECOMMEND, VERY UNSANITARY), licking blood off face (SEE PREVIOUS CAPS), explicit language, feels at the end.

A/N: This was 100% self-indulgent. I hope that I got Tommy's character across. He is still fairly new to me! Please comment and reblog! Thank you @firefly-graphics for the divider!!

You didn't marry Thomas Shelby for love. You did it for practicalities. Thomas needed a wife, and you needed a husband. Somewhere down the line, you grew to feel for him, maybe even loved him. Being his wife though, had its perks. He was good looking, caring, and nice. Which was an oddity on its own, given what he did for work. Despite the hardened exterior, your Tommy was kind.

The Grandfather clock down the hall chimed, signaling it was midnight. You were pacing your shared room, waiting for your husband to come home. He was out "taking care of business".

Your nails were ruined, anxiety driving you to nip and chew at them until they were stubs. You knew who you married, and you knew what he did. Knowing didn't stop the worrying. When you heard the lock creak, turning to the open position, you prepared yourself. Either it was Tommy coming back home to you, or it was his brothers coming to tell you that you were now a widow.

The door opened and shut. Footsteps echoed down the long corridor. Your breath caught in your lungs and they were burning. It wasn't until you heard his voice, his accent distinct and so him. He called your name, sounding as worried and upset as you.

"In here, Tommy." Your voice cracked as you said his name. He was home.

The moment you laid eyes on him, you rushed him, throwing your arms around him tightly. "Love, I need-- Fuck, I need to clean up." He said as he peeled you away from him. In the lowlights of the oil lamps, you could see he was covered in blood.

"Fuck, Thomas. Tell me that's not your blood." You yelped, "Wait, I don't want to know." You took a step back and took in his appearance. His dress shirt, stained. It was in his hair, on his face. You couldn't help but notice how his blue eyes sparked against the maroon red of the streaks running down his defined jawline.

Thomas Shelby was a killer, a criminal. He killed men for looking at him the wrong way. And that was the Tommy you were utterly attracted to. He was dangerous, unruly, and entirely yours. Tommy had unbuttoned his vest, shrugged it off and tossed it into the fire. He went to start on the buttons of his once crisp, white shirt, but you stopped him. "Don't." You said, shaking your head, before slotting your lips over his.

Thomas groaned, fighting the urge to pull you closer. You slipped your tongue in his mouth, to slide against his own. You could taste the faint metallic tang of the blood, mixed with tobacco. "Fuck," he mumbled as he separated from you. "Let me clean up first. You've stained your favorite sleeping gown." He pointed to your covered breasts, which were now covered in blood.

He went to turn away from you, but you grasped his wrist. "Tommy, want you to fuck me. Just like this." You mewled, and he paused. He looked up to the ceiling, like he was praying. You heard him harshly whisper a "Jesus Christ" under his breath before he lifted you up by your ass. Quickly you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding tightly. He walked you to his desk, scattering the paperwork on the floor.

Tommy pressed his lips against yours, tangling his large, blood-stained hands in your hair. He thrusted his tongue between your lips, parting them to dance with your own. He always kissed like it was the last time. He all but swallowed you whole. Tommy released your hair, and his hands went down to your breasts. The growl that reverberated through his chest made you damp between your thighs. "It's already ruined, eh?" He said to no one before ripping the silk right down the middle. You gasped at the show of strength. “You shouldn’t let a damned soul like me defile you, princess.” Tommy protested, hands caressing your breasts, smearing the soft flesh with blood, tweaking your nipples with his fingers. You shook your head, moving your face closer to his.

“Too late,” You whispered, licking up his jawline, before placing your lips on his. He pulled you closer if it were possible. His lips parted, tongue prying yours open. You instantly gave him access. He groaned at the taste of the sanguine fluid on your tongue. His hands found their way down your back, fighting for dominance. Tommy was the one who broke the kiss, only to find his way to that spot on your collar bone.

“Thomas,” You moaned. He continued his way up your neck, nibbling on your ear, before returning his lips to your own. His hand traveled down your front to the apex of your thighs. He was pleased to find your core bare, something you have come accustomed to, being married to him. He loved having easy access to your cunt when he wanted. You could feel his hard member against your thigh.

Your hands were buried in his black hair, leaving love bites on his neck. He quickly undid the button of his trousers, pulling his cock free of its confines. “Fuck, I need you, love.” He groaned, rocking himself through your wet folds. It should have scared you. You should have been petrified at the sight of him, but you weren’t. You were dripping for him, knowing that a mere hour ago, your husband had killed someone.

“Then take me, Tommy.” That was all he needed. He licked his slender fingers, applying the spit to his cock, before burying himself to the hilt in one swift thrust. You cried out at the welcomed intrusion, your body accommodating his size almost immediately. He didn’t move, he relished in the feeling of your tight cunt around him. His forehead rested against yours. You looked up, finding his blue eyes staring right at you with amazement.

His breath was labored, like he was experiencing you for the first time. You tried to roll your hips to get some friction, but Tommy gripped your hips tightly. “Fuck, this isn’t going to be easy.”

His pace was brutal, his hips pistoning into yours. The hard wood of the desk dug into your back, but you didn’t care. Not when Tommy was moaning your name like a prayer in the most sinful way. Your hands tried to find purchase on his shoulders, but the drying blood made it difficult.

Tommy's movements stopped abruptly. You were about to complain when he pulled out of your cunt, flipping you onto your stomach, and pushed himself back in. At the angle, you felt him everywhere. He shoved your head down onto the cold wood. You couldn’t help but clench around his length as your nipples pebbled with the friction. "Fuck. Who knew my pretty little wife enjoyed being fucked like a whore." Tommy growled, punctuating the last word with a hard thrust.

"Yours, Tommy. All-- oh, fuck-- yours." You mewled, submitting yourself completely to him. You could hear Tommy’s breaths grow ragged with every moan that elicited his lips. You could get off on his sounds alone. The baritone of his voice, the way he spoke, the power that was embedded with every word.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, and you knew you’d be sore tomorrow; With Tommy, it was always worth it. “I’m– Shit, I need you to come for me, princess.” He was wrecked, losing himself in the pleasure of your body. You pushed back against him, hoping he would get that you needed to change positions to accomplish what he wanted; He did.

Tommy left your body, pulling you toward your bed. You took this as your chance to take charge. You push a firm hand into his chest, causing him to fall back with a grunt. His crystal blue eyes twinkled, enjoying your show of dominance. In the back of your head, you knew blood would be everywhere, but in the moment, you couldn’t care less.

Straddling him, you lowered yourself onto his cock. Your cunt accepted him greedily. When he was fully seated, you rolled your hips. A curse fell from his plush lips. He went to place his hands back on your hips, but you stopped him. Lacing your fingers with his, you pinned hands by his head. Slowly, you started to ride him, switching the rotation of your hips every so often. Tommy fought to touch you, but quickly gave up.

The mood had shifted. You initially wanted a fast, hard, fuck from your husband. Now that you had him under you, it hit you how close you could have been to losing him. Your emotions got the best of you, letting a tear slip over the barrier of your lashes, falling onto his cheek.

“Baby, I’m here.” He assured you. Your ministrations stopped, and your hold on his hands relaxed. Tommy took the opportunity to flip you. He looked down, staring into your eyes. “I love you.” He knew he didn’t say it often, but he knew when he needed to. He started to grind into you, hitting that spot inside you that made you see white. You came quickly, with a chant of his name on your lips. Tommy wasn’t far behind you, spilling his seed deep inside you.

Neither of you said anything, as he pulled out and away from you. You watched as he trotted across the way to the bathroom. You willed your body to move, following behind him. He had stripped off his shirt and trousers, left only in boxers. He started the shower, gesturing for you to go first. Tommy joined you, and you watched as the water ran bloody down the drain. You helped scrub away the sins of his night.

You came out of the bathroom, blood free, to find that your bed had been stripped and remade. You really needed to give Frances a raise. Tommy sighed contently as he turned down the comforter. You slid in first with Tommy right behind you. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, thankful that he was here for at least one more night.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #kat writes

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heeseung-min · 2 years ago

Note

From your recent enha reaction when someone is flirting with u, can you do a extended part for sunoo? I wanna know what will he do to the guy lol

here is the extended part from the reaction

[00:26]

Sunoo waited for you to sleep. He had drugged your food and drink so you can sleep without hearing what he did at the basement later. He loves you so he didn't want to disturb your beautiful sleep :(

He went to the basement with a teapot walking slowly. Every steps he went, you can hear the wooden stairs creaked. Sunoo also wearing a boot which made the step he made loud.

"Did you have a good sleep? No? It's okay after this you can sleep forever." He said casually like how he joked with his friends but instead the person in front of him was the man that disturbed you at the cinema.

"I'm so sorry. I will not report this to the police, just please let me go!!!" The poor man begging like crazy. He even hold Sunoo's leg to show how desperate he is.

Your boyfriend laughing sassily at the man under him. He's tired of stupid people that doing wrong things confidently but then got scared when they got threatend or something. He decided to make the scream from the man louder by step on his hand until he heard the bones were cracking.

"AARRGHH PLEASE STOP!! PLEASE LET ME- "

The person couldn't even finish his words Sunoo had poured the hot oil from the teapot he brought. He watched the man screaming histerically while covering his eyes that got hot oil in it. Then, he finished pouring the oil all over the body and the effect was so bad.

"I hate people touching what's mine and what I hate the most is people who think they are smarter than me."

Sunoo asked his friends to burn the guy before walked up to the stairs. He doesn't want his clothes smells like a smoke especially when the smoke is from those type of people he hates.

"You should make the basement soundproof, hyung so you don't need to wait for noona to sleep."

"Shut up, ni-ki. Just do what I asked."

"Ergh, you better get noona to cook breakfast for me."

Sunoo rolled his eyes at Ni-ki words. The younger boy just grumpy because he was sleepy. Sunoo then went to take a bath and hugged you closer to him when he laid beside you.

"I will keep those people away. Only I can see, touch and feel you Y/N."

taglist: @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount

It's a bit short but I think that's okay, right?😐

it's nearly midnight here😌 i want to post this a bit earlier but too much work to be done

#yandere kpop #enha x reader #yandere au #yandere enhypen #yandere imagines #kpop yandere #lee heeseung #nishimura riki #park jongseong #kim sunoo #park sunghoon #yang jungwon #sim jaeyun #yandere drabble #yandere sunoo

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fueledbyapplepi · 3 years ago

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Hii I was wondering if I could rq Mikey, Baji and Mitsuya with a gn! s/o who is the sole provider in their household? and the guys only find out because they saw their s/o while they were at work? but they didn't know they even had a job bc they kept it a secret? it's perfectly okay if you aren't up for this rq! I hope you have a good day/night!!

Given it All | Mikey, Baji, and Mitsuya

- The boys with an s/o who's a breadwinner of the family.

warnings: mentions of family problems

genre: fluff, angst

A/N: Writing this made me kind of emotional because I have friends who are the main providers for their family and I see them work very hard. This one's for all the independent and hardworking people out there <3

Mikey (Sano Manjiro)

Another day. Another one.

Mikey loves feeling your hands. They're soft and smooth against his calloused fingers. He'll feel the palms in your hands every moment he gets. He always felt like a baby being caressed by your soft hands.

But there seems to be a detail in your hands that he can't miss. Every time you two see each other, Mikey would notice the burns and red marks on your hands.

"Y/N, what happened to this?" he asked.

"Oh, it just got itchy again. You know, the usual," you replied, trying to brush off the topic.

It has always been like that. Each time that Mikey points it out, you always try to avoid the topic or reason out that it's just a scratch. And it's not like he's saying that you're a liar, he just knows that there's more to that than just a mere scratch.

Which is true.

You didn't really want to lie to your boyfriend. It's just that, it's something that it's hard for you to open up and talk about.

At a young age, you were forced to live by yourself. Your mother died at a young age, while your father was a drunkard - eventually getting out of the picture.

In order to provide for yourself, pay for rent and other fees necessary to make a living, you worked hard. Currently, you're working full-time at a family restaurant where you're assigned at cooking. Although this was a daily task for you, you never fail to get yourself burned from the boiling oil.

It wasn't an easy life especially living alone. But at least, you have your boyfriend by your side to get by.

Now that you're shift has finished, you were tasked to throw out the trash at the back before you leave.

As you were about to walk away from that alleyway, you heard a familiar voice.

"Y/N?"

Looking at the source, it was your beloved boyfriend with a questioning look on his face.

"Mikey? What are you doing here?" you asked, anxious about how you'll explain this to your boyfriend.

"I just finished beating up some guy," Mikey said as he pointed out to a dude who passed out on the further part of the alley. "How about you?", he continued as he looked at your uniform and an obvious face that's waiting for an answer.

You knew this day would come. You just didn't expect that it would be today.

Sighing, and taking deep breaths, you explained to Mikey your story and why you work here.

"Y/N, why didn't you tell me?" Mikey asked as he caressed your cheek.

"It's hard for me to talk about it. I'm sorry for not telling you," you said as you looked down.

"Hey, it's okay," Mikey said. "I have a better idea,"

"What?" you asked

"Why don't you just sell Dorayaki and I'll buy all of them every day. Then you'll be rich," Mikey said jokingly.

You looked at him with a deadpan expression.

"But seriously, live with us!" Mikey said with such a happy look on his face.

"Eh?" you asked confused.

"Live with me, Emma, and gramps! I'm sure they'll be happy to take you in, you're my s/o after all," Mikey said, "Plus, you wouldn't have to work this hard if you don't have to pay for rent," he continued.

Your heart felt like it's floating in the air. How can you have such an adorable and loving boyfriend?

"I love you, you know that?" you said.

"Thank you so much, Mikey,"

"It's nothing," your boyfriend said as he kissed your hands. "You're like family to them after all,"

Maybe, the true family you've been looking for was always been by your side.

Keisuke Baji

You sleep early but the bags under your eyes were noticeable for your boyfriend.

Baji always thought that it was weird that the eyebags under your eyes were evident. Not like it's a bad thing though. You're still beautiful as ever in his eyes.

It's just that you always tell him that you sleep at 8 in the evening. Yet here you are, looking like you pull an all-nighter every day.

Maybe it takes you hours before you actually go to sleep? That's possible. But what if you just don't want to spend the rest of the night with him? Is it possible that you're getting tired of him?

It's only been months since you've started dating, but Baji couldn't blame you if you get tired of him.

But it's not like you don't want to hang out with your boyfriend. Hell, who doesn't want to hang out with theirs and experience late-night dates and night rides right? Especially if it's with Baji.

It's just that, you don't have the luxury of spending the night with your boyfriend. Being the eldest of a family of four, you have to work and provide for the needs of your mother and your two younger siblings.

To help your family, you work two part-time jobs every night. One is being an employee at your local convenience store and the other is being a kitchen staff at a local pub. Two jobs might be heavy, and tiring for you, but it's what helps you and your family to get by.

Your boyfriend knew nothing of this. You know that Baji's a great guy, but you're afraid of embarrassing the 1st Division Captain of Toman, so you just try to hide it and make lame excuses.

Tonight's the usual night. Same excuse. Same job.

Currently, you're responsible for the counter at the store. It's past midnight, and you wish you can catch up to some sleep. But you know you can't since you'll be unable to get your minimum wage.

As you're looking at the countertop, someone suddenly handed Peyoung yakisoba.

"Baji's favorite" you smiled as you thought to yourself. Oh, how you miss your boyfriend.

"And that'll be 145 yen," you said as you look up at the customer.

Well, that was unexpected.

"Baji?" you said, seeing your boyfriend's face.

"Y/N? You work here," Baji said, with a confused look on his face.

"Sadly, yes," you said.

"Well, care to share this with me?" Baji said as he pointed out the Yakisoba.

"I have a 15-minute break. Sure," you agreed. Thinking now's the time to explain.

As you and Baji met at the small parking lot, you immediately explained.

"Look, Baji. I'm sorry for hiding this. I want you to know that I'm the breadwinner of the family that's why I can't hang out at night with you. I didn't tell you because I don't want to embarrass you," you rambled as you look anywhere but Baji.

"Embarrass me?" Baji said, walking closer to you.

"Y/N, I'll never be embarrassed at you. I'm proud of you, okay?" your boyfriend said, reassuring you. "I just wished you trusted me more,"

"I'm sorry, Baji," you whispered as you hug him. "I love you."

"Text me okay? I'll pick you up so that you won't have to walk," Baji said as he smiled at you.

"Thank you," you said, with tears threatening to fall.

"You're welcome," Baji said as he kissed your forehead, "Now, let's eat okay?" your boyfriend said, excitement laced in his voice as he opened the Peyoung yakisoba.

Mitsuya Takashi

You're a busy bee. That's for sure.

Whenever Mitsuya invites you on dates on the weekends, you weren't available because you're busy.

When he invites you to have dates after school, you always have to decline because again, you're busy.

He understands it though. Mitsuya knows that you have to study hard for your siblings and that you have to take care of them as well. As someone who always looks out for his younger sisters, Mitsuya knew that it can be hectic sometimes.

What he doesn't understand though is the fact that it's evident that you're trying to hide something from him. He's not that oblivious when it comes to you. Especially after dating you for months.

You're bothered with it too. As much as you love your boyfriend, you're embarrassed about the job you have. But it's not like you have any choice. The job pays well and is enough to make a living for you and your two younger brothers.

After school and on the weekends, it is true that you're busy. Busy with the maid and butler café that you work on.

It's embarrassing enough to be dressed like this. But being seen by the love of your life? That's a different level of shame.

Now that you finished with your shift, you felt the exhaustion on your body. Standing and serving customers isn't a joke anyway. You didn't even bother to change out of your uniform. You just wore a hoodie over it, not caring about the frills of the clothes peaking underneath.

As you were walking home, you heard the familiar sound of an engine. Turning around, you saw a familiar face.

"Ehhh? Y/N?" Mitsuya said, stopping his motor beside you.

"What are you doing?" he continued, eyeing your clothes and looking at you as if he's waiting for an explanation.

"Mitsuya, I can explain," you said as your face reddened from embarrassment.

"Hmmm, I'm listening," your boyfriend said with an unreadable expression.

"Well, uhm, you see, I work at this café that requires us to dress like this," you said as you pointed out to your clothes, "But I don't do anything bad though! It's just we dress like this," you further explained, waving your hands.

"You look cute," Mitsuya smiled "I kind of hoped you just told me sooner. I would've made you some clothes,"

"Huh? You're not mad?" you said, surprised.

"How could I be? My s/o's working hard. Plus, I get to see you in cute clothes. What's there to be mad of?" Mitsuya said as he smiled at you.

"Baby, I love you," you said as you looked at your boyfriend with adoration.

"I love you too. But take me there someday okay?" Mitsuya replied grinning.

You just nodded and blushed at the idea.

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miserable-flamango · 3 years ago

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Jasmine tea

I’ve had this idea for a fic where Cole comes to the realization that he loves Kai instead of Nya rattling in me brain for a while now, but I’ve never been able to start on it. I think it’s cause AO3 scares me, and I’d actually have to write a whole story which I don’t have the time nor will power to accomplish. But seeing other authors on here got me inspired, so I wrote a little something. Maybe I’ll do more in the future?

I’m sorry in advance :’-)

(Edit: I forgot to mention this but they’re in a hotel-)

Cole sat at the desk, going over the paperwork from their mission. It may seem as though heroing is all beating bad guys and saving the world, but at the end of the day reports needed to be filed and numbers needed to be crunched; it was something that just came standard with the job. He rubbed his face, attempting to wipe away all of the drowsiness that settled over his slumped posture, before blinking a couple times away from the yellow light of the desk lamp that seemed to burn his eyes. Suddenly, a styrofoam cup was lowered onto the desk, causing Cole to look up and see Kai leaning against the table. “Burning the midnight oil, huh?” he asked.

“I guess you could say that.” Cole replied with a hum before turning back to the papers.

“I thought we usually let PIXAL fill those out?” Cole stiffened as Kai called him out. While it was true that the paperwork was usually left to PIXAL, who -with her previous assistance experience- can get all of the proper information they need, as well as fill the forms out quickly and accurately, Cole really needed a distraction. His emotions have been all over the place these past few days, and if boring paperwork was his only choice of escaping, then so be it.

“I thought it’d be best to fill these out while the events are still fresh in my mind.” Cole half-lied. Kai looked at him for a few moments before shrugging, “Alright, whatever floats your boat. Just don’t stay up all night.” he gave the earth master a mock salute before making his way towards the bed, “Oh, and take a shower, you smell.”

“I do not.”

“Do to.”

“Shut up man,” Cole could barely suppress his giggles, “go to sleep before I knock you out myself.” he could hear Kai’s offended gasps as he moved around to turn off all of the lights in the room. “Don’t hate me for spitting facts, dude.” he stated as he climbed into bed, the two exchanging goodnights as silence fell amongst them. Cole grabbed the cup Kai had given him and took a sip. Jasmine tea, his favorite. Cole couldn’t fight the smile that bloomed across his lips, a gesture so simple yet he was getting so mushy over. He sighed as he placed the cup down, trying to ignore the way his heart did somersaults, he knew he had some personal issues he needed to think about, but this was not the time. He’ll sort out his feelings when he gets home, it didn’t matter that Kai could make him smile in ways Nya couldn’t. He took in a breath, recentering his focus, and began his work once again. His eyes dropped to the next question he was on: “Give the addresses of all destroyed properties during the battle.”

Tonight was going to be long.

—

Cole stayed there for hours into the night. His tea was gone, and he was at a point where he couldn’t process the words in front of him, the information just being thrown into space rather than his brain. Fatigue was soaking deep into his bones, the temptation of sleep dancing on his heavy eyelids, but ever the man of strong will, he pushed forward. Although it wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes for just a second-

“Cole, sweetheart, you’ve been at this all night. Why don’t you come to bed?” Cole’s eyes snapped open as he heard the familiar voice, as well as the faint heat of what felt like hands rubbing along his shoulders. The earth master shook his head, he was strong, he could push through.

“That paperwork won’t do you any good, Rocky.”

“You can’t run from your feelings~” the voice seemingly duplicated next to him, the same heat placed along his arm. His heart was pounding, his mind was reeling from whatever these hallucinations were. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his hardest to ignore the voices, but his efforts proved fruitless when he felt the heat cradle his cheeks, the scent of smoke filling his nose as the voice spoke just inches from his face.

“I know you love me too, Cole.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, heat touching him all over as multiples of the voice called to him, whispered sweet nothings, made empty promises. He swore he was getting dizzy with all of the smoke in the air, suffocating as he helplessly sat there.

He felt the heat on the insides of his thighs, “You seem so stressed, baby, let me help you with that-”

The chair fell backwards onto the floor as he suddenly stood up, breathing heavily as he tried to regain his composure. Even though he could hear the clunky roar of the AC unit, he was sweating bullets, the lingering phantom touches still burning his skin. Just as he was trying to decipher what just happened, a hand landing on his shoulder caused him to jump.

“Cole,” Kai exclaimed in a hushed tone as he drew his hand back towards himself, “hey, take some deep breaths, you’re alright.” Albeit confused, Cole did as his friend asked, taking in his surroundings as he calmed his breathing. Due to the curtains being drawn he couldn’t tell how dark it was outside, so he tried to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “It’s 4:30 in the morning.” Kai beat him to the punch, Cole gave out a breathy ‘okay’ along with a nod as he looked down at the desk. He was white knuckle gripping the edge of the desk, so hard, in fact, that cracks were beginning to form out from under his fingers.

Oops-

He quickly released his grip, unable to ignore the sizable dents that were left on the furniture. How were they going to explain that to the hotel staff? He took off his glasses with shaky hands and set them on the desk before sitting down on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t long before a familiar styrofoam cup came back into view, with a tired Kai being the one to greet him this time. Cole graciously took the cup and drank it, water being the beverage of the evening although he could still taste the very faint linger of jasmine tea. He felt the mattress dip beside him, and the two sat in silence for a few minutes, the loud AC serving as an anchoring white noise.

Cole spoke up finally, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t be. Shit happens, and I’m used to it.” Kai spoke calmly. Cole stared at his cup, Kai’s the team’s resident “Big Brother” and is usually the one they go to for bad nightmares. At first it was Lloyd and Nya, but then Jay and Zane started climbing into his bed on occasion. PIXAL went to him once, and he was pretty sure he’s even woken up for Sensei Wu at some point. At the thought, Cole couldn’t help but snicker a little to himself. “What’s so funny?” Kai asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about your sixth sense for detecting nightmares, there seems to be no getting past you.” Cole answered simply, earning a small chuckle from the red ninja. “Oh yeah, a brother’s job is never over.” The two chuckled at that before falling back into silence again.

“Hey Kai?”

“Yeah?”

“If everyone goes to you for their nightmares, who do you go for yours?”

“I… I don’t know. I can usually tough them out by myself.”

“You can come to me for your nightmares.” Cole blurted without thinking. Maybe he was just really fucking tired, but he didn’t like the fact that Kai didn’t have someone to turn to for comfort himself. There were a few beats of silence that followed and Cole was about to take it all back, when he felt Kai’s hand rest on top of his, warm and calloused.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” he admitted with a smile.

#Mango Writes #ninjago #kai smith #cole brookstone #lavashipping #I'll probably delete this later #I wrote this in like a day so you can tell it's shit #ALSO THIS SCENE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE ANGSTY #It's a curse I swear

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feral-ella-flynn · 3 years ago

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Paying the Toll, pt 2: M Troll x F Human, SFW (for now)

Part 1

Male Troll + Female Human

still SFW (so far)

2.5K/6.5K word draft

tagging @feralprose @monster-bait @apocalypticromantic666 @pre-schoolervengance @bresilienne-ami @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @dont-call-me-a-faerie @kirmalight (comment to be tagged in updates!)

I bet no one expected this to be updated! Including me! This installment is definitely not as long as I intended, because I got really hung up on details--that’s why I’m posting anyway, to get some momentum so that hopefully the third part will be both longer and not so tardy.

Escaping a goblin raid on your village leads you to a bridge, but you have nothing to offer the troll who guards it for a toll...except yourself

You wake in darkness. At first you aren't sure you're awake at all--it's only by touching your own eyelids that you can feel sure they're open. It seems to make no difference between the thick, pressing dark around you either way.

“Mattie?” you whisper, your voice thin and hoarse.

There’s no answer, and understanding comes crashing down on you, like floodwater overwhelming a dam. You are not in your cramped room under the eaves of the big house, Mathilde is not sleeping on the narrow bed an armspan away–if she’s lucky, perhaps she was able to hide in the cellars or the attics, somewhere that was safe enough until the goblin raiders felt they had run out of things to raze and ravish and moved on. Or perhaps help would come, from the regiment billeted outside the market town, or from rangers who might have been near enought to see the smoke. If Mattie was unlucky….

A sob catches in your dry throat, then turns to choking dry heaves that leave you shuddering. Bile burns on your tongue. You huddle into the nest of furs, remembering now where you are and how you came to be here, naked and alone in the pitch black.

Not alone. There is the hush of leather brushing against stone, a faint musky scent.

“Brúsi?”

“Aye.” The troll’s gravel-rough voice is low and close–you almost reach out, ready to blunder once again into his arms rather than be alone with your fears.

The scrape of flint is loud enough in the silence to make you jump. Sparks illuminate the troll, kneeling at your side, and as he coaxes the tinder to unfurl into flame you hastily wrap a fur around your bare flesh. Whatever mood made you so bold before has been banished by your nightmares.

“Is it morning?”

The troll shrugs. “Near enough.”

“Shall I–shall I make breakfast for you?” Your fingers knead anxiously in the soft nap of the pelt that you clutch closed over your chest. “What do you like for breakfast?”

The troll–Brúsi–glances at you, his head tilted in the way that is already familiar. You think it means he’s just as bewildered by your contract, and by you, as you are yourself.

“Dried goat,” he says. “Morning meal, evening meal. Unless there is a new goat.”

“Oh. Where do the goats come from?”

He shrugs. “The bridge provides.”

Well. You take a deep breath, pushing the fear and panic of the last day, of the dark dreams, down into a tight ball at the bottom of your stomach, where you can ignore it for a little while. “Does the bridge ever provide eggs?”

And so you begin your month as housekeeper to a troll.

Your clothes are badly stained, and chilly from being spread out on the stone floor, but they're dry and you dress in them anyway, trying to ignore the scrutiny of Brúsi’s dark blue eyes as he watches you. He seems fascinated by the layers as you lace your stays over your shift, tie the strings of your petticoat, and your cheeks burn with a blush as you finally button your gown. You do your best with the tangles in your hair--letting it hide your face until your heart stops thumping in your ears before you twist it into a hasty braid.

There are no eggs. But you take a lantern the troll indicates and follow him into another cave that serves as a store room.

“There is goat,” he says, pointing at the considerable supply of dried meat, “and other goods, if tha wish them.” His gesture at the heaps of bags, crates, jars, casks, boxes–all jumbled together and shoved to one side–is dismissive, as if there is nothing of value to be found. You stare wide-eyed at a bolt of fine silk, at the glint of gold from a carelessly overturned casket with a broken lid.

“What is all this?”

“Payment for the toll, for when there were no goats.”

“You don’t do anything with the things paid for the toll? They just sit and rot?”

He shrugs. “I butcher the goats.”

You can only shake your head, but the practicality can’t be denied–gold and silk isn’t much use in a cave, and it’s with less wonder but more delight that you find flour, oil, and salt.

Breakfast is fried bread--and goat meat.

Once the meal is prepared and cleaned away, the troll vanishes up the dark tunnel. He takes no lantern with him. He also doesn't say a word to you before he leaves, and you stand in the cave for a while, expecting him to come back with instructions, or–well, something. But he doesn’t, and you can only twist your hands in the skirt of your gown for so long. Eventually you pick up the lantern and explore.

There is little enough to see. Other than what you noticed when you arrived, there is an alcove that must be where the troll sleeps, on piled furs that smell musky but not unpleasant. There is the storage cave, although it seems larger than it did at first, because you realize that you can’t see the far wall before the circle of light gives way to darkness.

And then there is the tunnel entrance, where your new employer disappeared, and which presumably leads out, to--your stomach lurches at the memory of being upside down from the sky–the underside of the bridge. But perhaps that had been an illusion, and the tunnel merely led out to an opening in the bank underneath the bridge? You had been half out of your mind with fear, after all. Maybe you dreamed that part.

Maybe…maybe you could simply walk out of this tunnel, out of the dark, and walk all the way home.

Except that you agreed to a contract. And the troll did say he wouldn’t eat you, wouldn’t even touch you, which was more than any of the men at the big house ever promised...none of them had touched you, but you knew that was because you had been careful, so careful, all the time, to be invisible.

It had helped that Mattie made it easy to fade into the background. She flaunted her pretty curls and winsome dimples, and when she sometimes crept into your shared attic room well after midnight she always had a new length of fine fabric for a dress or a necklace of amber beads to show for it. You asked once if she wasn’t afraid of falling pregnant, but she just shrugged.

“I know to be careful,” she said, and hid the coins she’d gotten for selling her latest bauble away beneath her bed.

Thinking of Mattie makes your eyes sting with tears, and reminds you that probably there was no home to walk back to–and if you tried, there would likely be nothing to be done there except burying the dead. You leave the tunnel entrance alone, and busy yourself with organizing the heaped goods in the storage cave.

When Brúsi returns, he brings you eggs, freshly laid and nested in a straw packed basket.

“They had no goat." He shrugs.

Other than struggling to invent new ways of preparing goat meat, most of your time is spent sorting. You find all manner of things in the storage cave, from precious jewels to plain linen fabric. The gems and gold you store in caskets, and then can’t shift on your own–Brúsi laughs at you, and picks them up with one hand, arranging them neatly along one wall as you direct him. You stack bolts of fabric, folding shorter lengths neatly into a another chest, you line up swords with gold wrapped hilts, swords with elaborately carved scabbards, swords that are short, swords that are nearly as long as you are tall, and then there are maces and axes and other things you can’t name. There’s even a pair of pistols in a tooled leather box, their handles gleaming mother of pearl. It’s more treasure than you ever imagined, and you feel that you’re in a dragon’s den instead of a troll’s cave--except that Brúsi shows little interest in the goods, except for the goat meat.

“If you don't have a use for these things, why accept them?” you asked, after the third day of sorting boxes and bundles and barrels, and still not finding the back wall of the cave. You’d found a crown, heavy and lumpy, like something out of an ancient grave, and under it a belt of bronze scales that linked together.

The troll just shrugged. “They are the toll, for the bridge. There must be a toll.”

“Then…" you bite your lip, but blurt "can I use some things?”

“If tha hast a use for them, then mayhap the bridge meant them for tha to use.”

“You make it sound like the bridge is alive,” you murmur, running your fingers over the bolts of fabric, already imagining yourself in a dress made of such soft material.

“The bridge is the bridge,” Brúsi says.

“What does that mean?”

He just shrugs.

You sigh, picking up a bolt of wool–practical, and still finer than anything you’ve ever worn. “If the bridge provides, can I give it a list? I need thread, needles, scissors, buttons…I can’t keep wearing this dress,” you gesture down at yourself. “Not without something else to wear while I wash it, at least, but I can’t make anything without supplies. And for that matter I need soap–”

Brúsi tilts his head. “Tha may always ask the bridge, but it works slowly. Simpler for tha to go to a market.”

You stare at him, your mouth falling open. “I can? I mean, is that allowed? I thought…”

He stares at you, the intense blue of his eyes unblinking, and you finally shrug. “I just thought I couldn’t leave the cave.”

“Not for long, but art not bound to the bridge as I am. Come.” He scoops a handful of coins into a pouch and leads you into the tunnel.

The ground slopes upward under your feet, and after a time there is a door before you, swinging outward. Brúsi ducks under its arch, his broad form filling the opening. When he doesn't move to let you through, you realize that he's blocking the way deliberately. Unease spikes through you.

"Is something wrong?"

"The bridge made tha sick before," he says. “Tha shouldst close thine eyes.” You squint suspiciously up at him–is he laughing at you?–but obey. You hear the rattle of his bone-decorated belt as he steps toward you, but then he stops. “I must touch tha,” he says. “Just to lift tha over the topside.”

“All right,” you whisper. You stifle a gasp as his enormous hands circle your waist, lifting you easily off of your feet, and then after a blur of motion you feel stone under you again.

When you open your eyes, you’re on the narrow stone arch of the bridge. Your lantern flame becomes suddenly pale compared to the warm sunlight that makes you blink and squint. There is no dark and shadowed forest hemming in the river. Instead there is a road, smooth hard dirt fringed with wildflowers on either side, and the rooftops of a village in the distance.

“Where…” You look down at the bridge under your bare feet.

“The bridge is all bridges,” Brúsi says. He holds out the leather bag of coins, and you take it, staggering a bit at the weight. “Buy whatever tha need.”

You hesitate, glancing from the troll to the road. What is there to stop you from walking away and never returning, from making a life somewhere? The bag in your hand holds more money than you had ever expected to earn in your life. There would be nothing to hold you to the bridge…except your promise.

“Tha canst not escape the bridge.” Brúsi seems to be reading your thoughts, although he’s not even looking at you. He’s gazing down at the water. “Every bridge tha sets foot on will be this bridge, until the toll is paid.”

“Of course.” The bag of coins drags at your arms, and you fumble it open, taking out a handful. “I should be able to get everything I need with these–it would be dangerous to carry all the rest of this.”

The troll frowns, glancing from you to the distant rooftops. “Danger from other humans?”

“Only if I seem to have more money than I should,” you assure him hastily. “It would get attention from the wrong kind of humans. I'll be careful.”

The coins bite into your palm as your fingers clench unconsciously. The frown creases his forehead, not smoothed away by your reassurances, and you half expect him to shake his head and pick you up under his arm again, ready to toss you back under the bridge.

“Please?”

You bite your lip too late to keep the word in, but there are lazy curls of smoke rising from the distant chimneys, and you can hear the lowing of cattle nearby, the friendly chime of chapel bells...and all you can think about is cheese. Cheese, and fruit to pair it with, or potatos, perhaps. Honeycakes. Your stomach rebels at the very thought of dried goat.

Brúsi jerks his chin toward the road. “Go, then. The bridge will be waiting for tha to return.”

You hand off the sack of coins–your shoulders more than grateful to be relieved of its weight–and the troll adds it to the other oddments that dangle from his belt among the bones. He folds his arms.

The handful of coins you kept are barely enough to make your pocket sag with their weight, but you can feel them as a reassuring lump under your skirts. You run anxious hands over your hair and stained gown, smoothing uselessly at wrinkles.

“I wish I had been able to bathe properly,” you mutter. “I look like a ragamuffin.”

But your hands and face are clean, your hair neatly tied back, and dusk is not far off, so perhaps your bare feet will not be noticed. You step from the cool stone of the bridge to the warm hardpacked dirt of the road.

"I'll be back s--" Your voice breaks off as you glance over your shoulder. The bridge behind you is a simple one of wooden logs, straddling a stream that a child could leap across. Gooseflesh prickles the back of your neck. You hurry down the road towards the village without looking back a second time.

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #m monster x female reader #troll boyfriend #Brúsi the Bridge Troll #troll lover #Feral Flynn Fics #monster romance #fantasy romance

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

pretty eyes & starshine: i

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i || part ii || part iii

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @keiqos (thank you!! 💞)

word count: ~9.4k

Keigo surrenders to losing himself in the blank-walled, temporary home he inhabits. He finds familiarity in the routine of aches, pains and pills.

You’re his only solace.

warnings: bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, suicidal ideation, alcohol as a coping mechanism and graphic description of sustained injury

a/n: oh wow so here it is, big sad fic :’^) part one!! it’s canon divergent from manga chapter 296 onwards.

this one has been a long time coming. please mind the warnings!! this fic deals a lot with trauma and mental illness in tandem. the warnings are going to change with the coming parts, so please be mindful. i don’t wanna get too sappy, but this piece has been my Baby for the past few months, and i’m excited to finally share. that being said, enjoy loves 💞

Everyone is fucked up after the War.

There is no kindness in an aftermath like this one, not so soon, and certainly not with dried blood of old comrades and mud still caking under its metaphorical fingernails. The world was in shambles, and every hero is along with it.

There is something horrifying about being at the center of it all, Hawks, no, Keigo thinks solemnly, all too often.

He’s used to the attention he’s getting, touches and poking and prodding by near strangers. Except, he was used to exclamations of how great and powerful and remarkable he was. Now, all the attention he receives is followed by little sighs and sad, broken eyes.

He’s sure he looks equally as sad; Keigo had been nothing but an empty shell since the War had ended and he’d been carted off to his hospital room. Numb despite all of his burns.

It’s the shock, he tells himself, he’ll snap out of it any day.

Any day.

...

And it is any day.

He wakes up to screaming from the next room over, agonized wails that pierce the air as his morning nurse enters. She’s over-worked and haggard while checking his vitals with a forced smile. They don’t make conversation with him much anymore, and Keigo doesn’t have the energy to try and force it. There isn’t enough in him to pretend that he’s okay enough to banter with folks.

If he still had his wings, he would’ve wrapped himself up tight in the plumage and let himself rot away in some corner. He’d let the dissociated numbness fade, however long it took, and then succumb to whatever psychological wounds revealed themselves.

Waste away, all alone.

But he doesn't have that luxury. He is in an overcrowded hospital with swarms of civilians and heroes, all stuffed in one place because the world doesn’t have the time to differentiate between the wounded, nor the space or resources to give different resources. Though, Keigo is a special case, hence why he’s had healers coming to him for the past three weeks since the War trying to coax his body into genesizing a new pair of wings.

The Commission’s hospital has all the bells-and-whistles that a medical professional could need, but Keigo, and so many others, are facing problems that don’t have good and easy roads to healing.

That’s assuming healing was even possible.

Keigo is convinced, has been convinced, that there is no way to come back from the War, nor the absence on his back, nor the shouts and cries of pain that echo around the hospital like a new genre of music that Keigo so desperately wants to scrub from his brain.

Things change, it’s inevitable. Everyone falls eventually, and he was just used to flying.

It’s a harder descent.

...

Keigo doesn’t meet you on any day, he meets you on a lonely night.

The evenings and early mornings were the most peaceful at the hospital. Most folks, three weeks after the end of it all, had serious enough injuries that they had to be somewhat sedated to sleep, either for physical or mental pain keeping them from sleep.

It’s morose, Keigo thinks, quietly and privately, but he craves those hours. All he hears then is the hum of air vents and beeps of his own medical machinery. None of the audible agony of the folks he was sworn to protect.

He’s slept most of the day, not lucid enough to do much else, and the nurses haven’t been giving him sedatives unless he asked (though he always did.) Without forced quiet, he’s antsy, fingers twitching and flaring the new (and growing) pains rooted in his (empty, isn’t that horrifying—) back.

He rouses himself, adjusting his scratching hospital garb (thin sweats and a cheap crew neck with the back almost entirely cut away). With his IV pole at his side, he resolves to take a few laps and quiet himself, hopefully.

(Keigo would need sedatives, he always did, but it was nice to play pretend that he didn’t. It made things easier for a precious hour or two.)

His laps are usually quick, despite how much his body aches when he walks. So much new, burnt tissue that needed to learn how to move, how to live again, kept him throbbing and gritting his teeth.

Masochism be damned, he keeps at it during his sleepless nights. Physical therapy wasn’t an option when the world was caving in with him at the epicenter.

There’s a common room at the end of the foyer of identical (filled) hospital rooms, just a collection of stuffy, uncomfortable couches that face an aged TV and a wide bay of windows. It’s rarely used, just a formality for when the space of the hospital had regularly hurt victims and heroes. When it wasn’t bearing so much weight.

Sometimes, he would stop to idly regard the mostly barren world around the hospital. Far from the cities, a little hideaway for heroes and their loved ones to heal in privacy. Other than sheer distance, there is a thick, organic shield around the complex. It’s a towering forest, man-planted with identical types of trees in perfect rows.

It’s grim in its predictability.

(When did he get so fucking pensive?)

(Oh yeah, too much time locked in his goddamn skull.)

He hadn’t been planning to have any inner musings that night.

But, that night, he notes that he is not alone.

On one of the hard couches, you sit, with your own IV-pole companion and injuries, an arm carried in a monochromatic sling and set in a hard cast.

You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.

There’s a single lamp on, and the light dances in your eyes with its own unexpected rhythm.

Something compels Keigo to smile, cocky, like he used to, and greet you with a little wave, and a finger to his lips.

Your expressions melts, a hand going over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

It’s like you’re pulling him after that, he finds himself resting across from you.

You must look like a pair, he realizes. You’re greasy, he’s greasy. He’s got a fine layer of built-up stubble that shouldn’t be called anything other than impressive peach fuzz (not that Keigo’s seen it, he’s felt it. The idea of looking in a mirror makes him sick to his stomach. Though you don’t have any pseudo-beard, you’ve got your own unkempt look and feel that makes you two kindred without sharing a word.

It feels comfortable, warm.

“Hi,” you speak first, voice soft and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, who can?” Keigo replies, shaking his head. “But what about you? Midnight oil doesn’t burn without a cause, you know.”

Your expression is also painful in the way it’s so open, yet worn (most everyone had locked up by now, the ones in the hospital and Keigo imagined the ones outside of it too.)

“I like the sky— the stars are pretty.” You sigh, wistful. “I watch for shooting stars.”

The thought, the significance of that obvious wanting, makes something pang deep in his chest. Childlike hope in a place like this, foolish as well as frail.

“Trying to get a wish?” Keigo clicked his tongue. “Smart.”

“No, no— wishing doesn’t... suit me, right now.” You snorted, shaking your head, the light in your eyes dancing, “I just think they’re pretty.”

Keigo blinks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen.

Your posture reads nothing but earnestness and vulnerability, so freely given (so undeserved) without a hint of pullback.

“What do you want to be called?”

“... Excuse me?” Keigo is not used to his thoughts being interrupted in the blanket of dark that he feels most comfortable in. Your words shock him enough with their meaning, let alone the way you’re so brazen.

“I, uh,” You stumble on your words. “I know who you are, but I also saw that whole broadcast, which I’m going to easily assume you don’t want to talk about. But, I don’t know how much you want to be called ‘Hawks’ at this point either.”

His mouth is dry.

“So, I ask instead,” You lean forward, your IV line pulling the slightest bit and you wince. His discomfort must be very fucking apparent, because you backtrack in moments. “... Or, neither. I can call you something else, too.”

“... A nickname, for someone you don’t even know?” Keigo, Hawks, whoever he is now struggles with words. There’s too many, and they’re all too fast, and he doesn’t have his wings to catch up to them or outrun them—

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug with a lazy smile. “I’ll call you... pretty eyes. How about that?”

Keigo does have pretty eyes. They’re gold, light and glittering amber in the lowlight. Before he, ya’ know, lost them, and when things were good, but awful, but normal, he darkened the organic marks around his canthi with liquid eyeliner. He liked makeup, prettied himself up and accentuated all the good he had. Preening.

None of that is left, just what organically was on his skin, and he hasn’t seen it in its raw state in years, and like fuck if he was going to look in a mirror just to figure out if his natural eyeliner was half as good as that by his own hand.

“Sure, that works,” He relaxes, mirroring your expression like the practiced... pro he is. “What do I call you, starshine?”

You roll your eyes, but nothing about you fades as you tell him your name, something that calms and fills him, “But, you can call me starshine if you want. Sounds nice.”

It’s sweet.

So, Keigo greets you.

“Nice to meet you, starshine.”

...

That’s the first time you kept each other’s company. Most of it is quiet, you truly do just want to watch the stars. Keigo did with you, tracing the shadows of clouds and moonlight with his eyes.

(Occasionally, his gaze shifts to you, regarding your figure with the same care for only a moment before returning to the sky you both miss.)

Eventually, the quiet heat of it puts him half to sleep, and he bids you goodnight.

You wave goodbye, rising as he away.

The light isn’t in your eyes anymore, and your warmth feels a little too far away.

...

The next days are long.

He slips into that shell-state again, where he’s a husk that stares emptily at the ceiling as the Commission tries to piece him together to a fraction of what he once was.

They fail, each time, because no healer they’ve brought can regenerate quirk-formed appendages, but he commends their efforts all the same. It’s out of desperation, sure, but he’s heard whispers of the new generation. In recalling his own sidekicks, he isn’t as scared for the future.

(Everyone else’s future. He’s so terrified of his own that he turns extra numb if he thinks about it.)

Selfishly, he just wants his wings for himself. They’d keep him plenty company. If he ever did get them back, he’d fly somewhere, faraway and alone to live out his days under his feathers and feel as empty as he wanted.

They fuss over him all day, not knowing those desires. They are private, and he only puts on his old, self-confident bravado so they don’t lock him up somewhere to have his brain picked and to fill the new holes with pill-shaped gauze.

As established, Keigo was content to rot.

(He can’t fully parse all of his feelings and they consume him.)

The healers for the week all failed, doing nothing but making his back bow and burn. It’s painful. Obviously, trying to stitch a body back together, or rather making a body make when it was so tired of creating—

(Feather after feather after feather, for how long?)

He’s glad his sessions are in a different room, a spare, horrifyingly metallic exam room across the hospital. It reeks like iron and isopropyl alcohol, but Keigo doesn’t mind. The filmy paper that rolls from the exam table gets soaked with his sweat as opposed to his familiar bed dressings.

Not to mention, it’s nice, not having to hear his neighbor’s screams and pleadings to God, any god, for reprieve. Calming.

(He feels less guilty. Less like it was his own hand that scarred up their bodies. If he can’t hear them, he only thinks of his own agony under ‘helping’ hands.)

His body is exhausted at the end of each day, and even his restlessness fades with the necessities of his body.

He doesn’t see you, and practically forgets about you.

It’s a week or so later when he takes one of his strolls, and finds you tucked away into your nook, dimly lit and with a blanket over your lap.

Keigo feels it as he nears you, that comfort that your expression bleeds into his very soul. Even as he watches your healthy hand nervously toy with the thin knit in your lap, it doesn’t dim you.

The lamplight dances in your eyes as you nod to him, “Fancy seeing you here, pretty eyes.”

“You’d never know it, but I live just down the hallway— me,” He touches his chest proudly, surprised by his own jest.

You gave a fake gasp, mirroring him easily, “Never knew I had such a well-known soul in my neighborhood. Forgive my transgression.”

Bending at the waist, as much as you can with your right leg extended, straight, you choke on laughter.

Keigo follows you in it, giggling, genuinely giggling, high and light and girlish like he’d never heard from himself before.

He snapped his mouth shut, thickly swallowing and shaking his head.

“No need to be shy,” You assured him with an affectionate turn of the head. “You have a lovely laugh.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, cute.”

Your head tilted farther, confused, “I’m simply being kind to you.”

Why didn’t he have the snark to reply to that? Probably because he was half-dead and on painkillers for nearly a month. He’d beat himself up about it later, maybe.

There wasn’t an ounce of malice in your tone, just earnestness that tugged at his own insecurities.

You backpedaled. “How was your day?”

Keigo takes a few moments to respond, shaking his head without mind to the way his too-long hair flops in his face.

The banter isn’t forced, but it’s not welcomed yet.

As comfortable as you feel to him, Keigo isn’t comfortable.

“Same old, same old,” Living hell. “Boring, mostly. Painful, but dull. It’s crazy how much hell smells like cheap disinfectant, huh?”

You agree, quietly, “I’m pretty sure there’s many hells in this place.”

Keigo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t.

You both regard the stars again with growing reverence. Specks of light dance back in your eyes as you both settle into the hard cushions like they were made of goose down and Sherpa.

...

Your conversations are... disjointed, to say the least.

There’s an inability for words and phrases to flow between you. There’s starts and stops, stalls like an engine that putters on tarry oil without ever truly firing. There are good feelings, still, safety in silence before words as you stargaze together through the comfort of a window.

It should feel disarming, to be so far from the sky yet have no way to reach it. And it is, but Keigo can swallow the reality these days. It’s easier when there’s someone on the mend close by, sharing in the discomfort of a rawed mind and the comfort of a yellow-toned fluorescent bulb.

It’s unspoken kinship. Keigo never had time for it in the past, but now it was all he had. There had to be some cruel irony in it (as if there wasn’t enough in his life), but he couldn’t make himself mind.

Everything he’d once excelled at, everything he had was gone. He was barren and stripped (don’t think about it—), exposed to the elements in all the worst ways. At least the hospital was clean and safe, relatively.

It feels safest with you near.

Sure, your conversations were clearly that of two horribly broken people, but that wasn’t new or surprising. It simply was.

“Do you know constellations?” You ask one night, a colder one, where you’ve got two blankets over your lap.

Keigo thought for a moment, “A handful, but I never took to stargazing, you know?”

You don’t relate, just chew your lip, the light of the dim lamp dancing across your irises.

“Can I show you some?”

“...Constellations?”

“What else?” You crack a smile. “Come on, pretty eyes.”

Whatever you’d like, he’d do.

He can’t refuse, he’s already getting weak for you.

Shifting, Keigo joins you on your typical couch for the first time. Your IV poles, thrumming and humming their own rhymes harmonize, quietly and mostly imperceptible.

You regard him even more warmly, so close, a little smile playing on your lips.

“What’s your sign?”

Keigo deadpans, “What?”

“Like... astrology. What’s your sign?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, knowing the double-meaning of your words.

Flirting again.

Since when had he been so bad at it?

“Capricorn,” He huffs back. He keeps his back off the stone-like cushions of the couch— his scarring had been itchy the whole day prior— so itchy—

You tap the plastic-y fabric gap between the two of you, grabbing his attention, “Hey, pretty eyes. Stick with me, let me show you where that one is.”

So, you do.

Your light-filled eyes trace the sky’s nighttime freckles, searching until you find what you’re looking for.

“There,” Your finger raises, tracing the patterns in the air. “That’s Capricorn, can you see?”

Not really, the stars are just a meaningless smatter. If there’s some sort of pattern he’s supposed to find, he comes up with none.

“Not in the slightest,” Keigo rolls his eyes. “Show me again?”

You don’t reply, but rather scoot a bit closer, mirror his hunch and pose with precision and tiny adjustments.

He doesn’t dare to breathe as you carefully grab his arm, extending it. You lay your cheek over his bicep, watching from the closest view to his own that you could.

“Do you see now?”

The only starlight he sees is right in front of him, soft cheek pressed against atrophying muscles. Sharing your heat so graciously as you would so easily come to, you chatter about the stories that are written in the stars, by all cultures, for so long.

Keigo hears, but he’s far more focused on how he wishes you were even closer.

...

After that night, you always share the same couch.

You face forward, right leg always extended and stiff-looking. Keigo doesn’t mind, hardly notices. He faces you, fragile back bandaged and kept away from the unforgiving grit of the uncomfortable couch. It looks a bit uncomfortable, the posing of it all, but with the words flowing easier, neither of you mind.

You keep showing him stars, the constellations you can remember and see in the night sky.

Keigo makes fun and crafts his own, connecting new dots and winding stories about them.

“See those three there?” He guides your hand, close enough to share your breath. “That’s the comb of the chicken. Star comb, if you will.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and pulling your hand from his grip, “There’s no cock in the stars, pretty eyes. Chickens can’t fly anyways.”

You both freeze.

Keigo’s mouth goes dry—

Chicken can’t fly.

As much as you’re both learning to be human again, there isn’t talk of your injuries. Maybe, there’s mutual curiosity (you’ve been here two months. just for a broken arm, why?), but like fuck Keigo wants to broach the subject.

“S-sorry,” you stumble over your words, physically retreating. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

It is a fact, chickens can’t fly, but Keigo isn’t a chicken. He’s a debauched, defamed hero whose home is the same set of a milky white, hospital ward walls. Once, a real hero, before the war, before selling his morals just for a chance at rest, before blue flame— burning—

“Pretty eyes,” Your voice trembles, shaking and lonesome. “Come back here, now. Come on.”

You’re holding his cheeks, unkempt nails pressing (blessedly) a bit too hard into his cheeks. The heat of you is so close, almost scalding him, but he wants more of it, more of the heat that doesn’t burn—

“You’re okay, pretty eyes, s-see?” You hold yourself together, jerking your head to the wide window and glittering stars. “We’re just stargazing.”

Keigo’s has tears leaking down his face, but neither of you acknowledge them. You release him, quietly spinning another tale about a hero hung in the cosmos. He thanks you for it silently by tugging you into his side.

(It was the first night you really touched him.)

(The light in your eyes was so close, he wanted it all for himself.)

...

They’re running out of healers to try.

From the weakest to the strongest quirk, no one could revive his dead wings. There was no root to push from the scar tissue, nor resolve left in Keigo to try and make new pins and feathers sprout.

His back isn’t fertile. It’s just as poisoned as the rest of him.

...

He wonders where you disappear to during the day. He takes his strolls then, too. Waves to nurses these days, not charming, just friendly, trying to make a little brightness.

There’s one day where he asks one of the nurses he knows best for a pair of scissors.

She looks at him, worried, “Don’t tell me we need to put you on psych watch.”

“What? No,” Keigo shakes his head, shaggy hair quivering around the frame of his face. “I just need a bit of a haircut.”

“... We can ask the Commission to bring someone in—”

“I can do it myself.”

She doesn’t argue with the firmness of his voice, rather, she hands him a pair of safety scissors with bright purple handles. They’re for a child, but Keigo’s fine with that. They’d do.

When he was younger, and in a pinch (and so poor he tried to eat grass and lick scraps from metallic packaging of discarded junk food wrappers) he’d cut his hair with his own feathers.

Safety scissors would be even easier.

It did mean that he had to confront his own visage, which he had gotten too good at avoiding.

The bathroom in his room is small, it would’ve been claustrophobic if he was still carrying a twenty-five-foot wingspan.

But, he isn’t. It was just him and the scars on his back that he definitely wasn’t ready to see.

He’s caught glimpses of himself over the past weeks, but nothing substantial. No view that would’ve given himself time to scrutinize over his imperfection.

The dull hospital mirror reveals too much about him. It feels too vulnerable, makes his chest tighten, as he stares himself in his ‘pretty eyes’.

Purple stamps below his eyes, probably not from sleeplessness itself, just the sheer exhaustion of living. The one under his left is an odd maroon color, mixing with the scar that is burned into that half of his face.

The skin was once soft, plump cheeks always tended too and well taken care of by expensive skincare products. Now, it’s charred and gaunt. Healing, but still obviously scarred heavy and deep. The weak beard he’s been growing (accidently) is patchy around the thickened tissue.

It bothers him—

It doesn’t look like him in the mirror.

It helps to take care of himself for the first time in a long while.

He shaves with the cheap foam and single blade razor they’d given him in the toiletries pack the first days he was there, while he was still numbed out and half-dead. The metal glides over his skin, stripping away the numbness just a little. The stubble and cream slide down the drain and away.

His hair is different. The waves had for so long been pushed back and held that way with the winds of his flights. The longer, feathery patches now hang around his face, dangling down and mingling with the too-long sections that curl over his ears and down his neck.

Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can.

It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant.

All the same, the trim feels good.

Though, his mood goes sour when the screaming starts for the day.

The far wall of the bathroom was shared by him and his shrieking neighbor, and he took great care to never shower when they were singing their awful chorus. It grates on his ears; he should’ve been a bit empathetic to their suffering, but he didn’t care that much. It was so regular, that the screaming that might’ve once sent each one of his feathers (don’t think about, don’t fucking think about it) sharp as the razor in his hand, didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Just a poke at his temple, a jab and a drop of water that irks him more than anything else.

It is a... somewhat pleasant distraction. He can focus more on his fellow patient than his own haggard appearance, the scar, the lack of red at his back—

It’s all okay, ‘okay’, until the patient starts babbling.

“M-make it stop!”

Keigo stills.

A scream tears through the drywall. Even without his wings, it makes him thrum, far-too sensitive.

“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!”

There’s a thud and thump from the other room.

“Please, please!”

Keigo’s heart stutters in his chest, and the razor falls from his hand, clattering into the sink.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

It’s you.

It’s your screaming and shrieking that’s burrowed in his ears. It’s your voice that’s trembling in desperation that has him running out of his room, nearly pulling out his IVs as the pole teeters and follows behind him.

Why are you screaming?

Why have you always been screaming?

A nurse is trying to stop him, urging him to settle but he can’t. There's an urgency in his chest he hasn’t felt since back before and he has to heed it. He needs to.

He pulls his forearm from the nurse’s grasp, hissing in his own pain, muscles pulling and aching with disuse but he doesn’t care.

The nurses drag him back from your door, and they almost have him, almost have him on the ground.

And then he smells burning—

Cloth.

Flesh.

And something in him snaps.

He clocks the nearest nurse with a tight fist, ignoring his atrophied muscles and kicking with everything he could muster.

They release him, probably out of shock. (He’d been such a model patient, so complacent and quiet until then.)

Then, he stumbles into your room, and sees you, and wants to die.

...

There’s plenty of times in his life where Keigo felt like an animal. When the Commission first got their hands on him, they took to studying and picking his quirk about to figure out the most efficient way to rebuild it to their needs and uses. Now then, he felt very much like an experiment, only half-human. He was too young to really ‘get’ it, but the feeling persisted.

Sometimes, he felt similarly when he played celebrity. The talk shows, the modeling and media felt hoops he had to jump through just to get a decent night’s sleep. It was an additional job aside from heroics, one he excelled at and entertained him. But that didn’t mean each flash of a camera didn’t suck him dry of a bit of his dignity.

He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.

You’re writhing and arching in your bed, curls of smoke rising from your papery hospital gown. Every machine in your room is screaming with you, bloody and loud and angry—

And scared. Keigo recognized well, and it drove pins into his heart to realize it was you.

It’s even worse when he realizes some part of you is burning.

At your bedside, he freezes.

Nylon straps wrap around your wrist, around your cast, and keep you held tight to the bed. You’re tied down, held to the plastic bed frame as you wretch and scream.

You don’t even notice him.

The smoke rises from your burning hospital gown. He rips it away, tears the burning section away with his shaking hand. It’s crass, and Keigo sees a bit too much. The gauze wrapping your leg below is burning as well, in little veins of char that burns black and smoldering.

Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—

And then he sees the wound.

He was trained, once, to see this type of horror and not bat an eye. That training was gone, and all that remained was his starshine with a writhing, molten wound.

Keigo is numb as the nurses drag him back to his room, trying to decide if he prefers the apathy and numbness to injury that his old heroism gave him, or the blinding pain of empathy when someone you... care about is hurt.

He can’t decide which he’d rather suffer with.

...

You appear in the common room a few nights later.

Keigo still takes his walks in the late evening, even if you aren’t there. If anything, he needs them more. He’s restless, always listening for the screams or howls from the next room over. His annoyance towards them was gone, and all that remained was a concern that knotted in the pit of his stomach.

There’s a sigh of relief on his lips when he finds you, nestled into a pile of blankets with your IV pole, watching the stars with sad eyes.

He joins you on your couch, cracking a decent joke that you don’t respond to.

Then, there’s silence.

It’s as loud as the stars are bright. The expanse of sound is filled by the hum of the cold air and distant beeping.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice shakes. “You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It’s not... Easy to look at. Or, I imagine it’s not.”

Keigo wants to rip the apology from your tongue and burn it.

“No, please, it’s alright,” He’s begging too much. “I get it.”

As much as he can, anyways.

You’re quiet again, biting your lip so hard it must be close to breaking skin.

“Can we... talk about things?” You ask, softer. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“...’Pretending’?” Keigo knows, but he selfishly wants to hear you say it.

“Well, you didn’t think I’ve been here for two months for my bum arm, right?” You laugh weakly. “And I’m well-aware that you don’t have wings.”

We just don’t talk about it.

“It’s nicer to look at the stars and pretend everything’s fine,” Keigo lays the statement down and regrets it.

Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.

And there’s more silence.

It’s deafening to Keigo, he wants to speak, scream, but you’re quiet next to him. He can fill voids with his voice so, so easily, yet he turns in on himself.

“I know, it’s all hard,” Tears drip down from your words, though your cheeks remain dry. “I know, but there was a War two months ago, and we’re still holed up in a place like this, and we never talk about why.”

You turn to him, light dancing slowly in your eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no sound comes out.

“... I didn’t want to ask.” Keigo speaks, gaze shifting down to your leg. He questioned why a broken arm would keep you here, but you can’t just ask that. “It’s bad form to ask a stranger about their injuries unnecessarily when they’re traumatized.”

“But we’re not strangers, not anymore.”

Keigo can’t disagree.

...

You had been in a conbini when Gigantomakia tore through your little suburb. It was a few miles away, but the ground shook as if the goliath was just outside the automatic doors.

Your demon was near, though.

It was a man from the PLF who tore into you so badly. Just some random, emboldened civilian who ascribed to Destro’s ideology hard enough to think about taking out his frustrations on ‘weaker-quirked’ individuals.

That meant the young couple getting slushies in the corner, the old man behind the cash register, and you.

(You’d told your roommate you’d be home quick to help her study—)

(Your roommate is dead, under several tons of rubble.)

“The old man died before the heroes even started trying to rescue anyone. The couple was begging each other to hold on, but only one of them lasted. He died within a few weeks of being taken here.”

There was just you.

You’d hardly been touched by the man, the fucking villain, who’d set his mark on you. But it was more than enough to leave a writhing scar.

Keigo asks to see it, and quietly, you oblige him.

You’re in a gown, you always have been. The hem of it is pulled up by your visibility shaking fingers, and slowly reveals the scar in the lowlight of the ever-present lamp. He’d seen it once, but that didn’t change how startling it was.

It’s molten.

The skin is gnarled, twisting and scarred worse than anything Keigo’s ever seen. It was like the gore of a torn flesh was frozen over your right side, from your calf, to your thighs to your pretty hips—

“It goes higher, but that’s not exactly couth to show you,” you joke, but neither of you laugh.

“... It’s not moving anymore?”

“Oh, yeah. It calms down, when it’s dark. Nighttime and all. It stops being so ornery.”

Keigo has a laundry list of questions, but with the expression on your face that just bleeds exhaustion into the air, and the fresh burns from the restraints on your wrists, he keeps quiet.

Maybe, three months ago, he’d jabber on about the injury, try to gode some information out on the villain, profile him, track him and beat the tar out of him for touching you—

But this is the present, and Keigo is a wingless soul. All he has is a prescription for painkillers on a rigid schedule, and the awareness that you both appreciate each other.

Keigo scoots to your uninjured side, lifting his arm up and around your shoulder. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t mind.

You tense for a moment, turning to him with wide eyes, scared like he’s never seen.

Then, you melt into him.

...

Keigo’s busy with healers the week, though none speak his language, literally. They’re international, foreign aid that’s been flown in to try to pick up the disaster of a society that’s been left in the wake of the War and the dissolution of Tartarus.

None of them make progress.

As much as it burns (haha) him to his core, he’s accepting the reality, slowly but surely.

...

Endeavor visits him.

It’s the morning after a particularly sweet night with you. You still sit together in the starlight, though you’ve run out of constellations to show him. It’s less quiet than it used to be, just little banter that flows between the two of you. It feels more genuine than his old bluntness, welcome after so much odd tension when you first started enjoying the heat of each other’s presence and the far-off stars.

You’d taken to spending time together during the day as well... As much as you could. Strapping you to your bed was for your own safety. Your broken arm had snapped the first few days at the hospital because of the severity of your spasms and flares. The nurses keep you wrapped up, but Keigo drags a chair close to your bed and talks to you as much as he can.

It helps you relax.

Though the days fill with tension as you try to negate the inevitability of your molten scar coming to life, nights remain calm.

And so, so sweet.

You’ve taken to tucking into his side, telling him little treasured facts about the cosmos. It’s easier to guide his eyes like that, as your cheek rests over his collarbone.

It lingers with him, the feeling of your casual touch, so tentatively offered and so graciously received.

He traces his own constellations over your gown, mindful of the flesh beneath that heats beneath his palm when he gets too close.

After one of those wonderful, early nights, Enji Todoroki enters his room with all of the gusto one would expect. Which is not very much, but the sheer presence of him is enough to make Keigo quake.

Just like the little boy from Kyushu, Keigo regards him with stars in his eyes.

The hero, not a speck of flame on him (thank god) pulls up a chair near his bed. Keigo sits cross-legged and cocks his head to the side.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, number one?” Keigo smiles.

“Number fifteen.”

“... What?”

“Since my injuries, I’m mostly on bedrest,” Enji replied, folding his hands on his chin. “I’m number fifteen now, and that number will more than likely just drop. I’m not much of a hero with only one lung. I’m planning to officially retire at the end of the month.”

Keigo’s chest goes tight and it feels like he’s joking. He tosses on a tight smile.

“This is hardly time for a pillar—“

“I’m no pillar. I never was,” Enji sighs, running a hand over his scarred cheek. “The kids can handle this.”

Keigo breaks so easily these days.

“That’s not fair—” He had been tossed into this all too early and god it fucked him up—

“Hawks,” Enji sighed. “There’s hardly anyone left to fight. They’re either dead, missing part of themselves, or gone.”

“So, you’re giving up?”

“If I didn’t, I’d die.”

Coward.

No, just honest and smart.

“Since when are you this selfish?” Keigo’s own words surprise him, but he doesn’t back down. “And this wordy, number one? You’ve changed.”

He spits the last phrase like an insult. He hates himself for it and would hate himself even more for it later.

Enji’s face remains solid and unwavering. The twitch in his brow is the only indication that Keigo’s words were even heard.

“Since we lost, Keigo. Things have changed.”

Keigo knew, of course, but it didn’t stop the anger from rolling his belly.

“Oh, like I don’t fucking know,” If Keigo still had his wings, they would’ve been extended and fluffed, angry as the pinched skin of his forehead.

This was his hero, he couldn’t be giving up too—

“Rest, Hawks,” Enji stand up, “You deserve it.”

Seems Endeavor really died. Enji’s face is worn, his expression neutral and jaw slack. He looks hollowed out and empty, not an ounce or morsel of fight left in him, even for a flightless bird in need of some encouragement.

There’s more to be said, but Keigo’s too angry to listen and Enji doesn’t have the energy to try.

Whatever news the old hero had come to bring was left undelivered.

...

You settle together the next few nights, both so damn tired, even though you’ve done nothing other than lay around a hospital for so-many weeks.

The air always vibrates between the two of you, that comfortable warmth shared between mingling breath and senses. Light dances in your eyes, twisting and bouncing like something otherworldly.

(Maybe it is.)

Your fingers lace together, held in Keigo’s lap. You trace the others hand in relaxing little lines and shapes, trying to soothe each other’s wounds, always.

“One of the doctors said the scar might start shrinking,” You break the tender silence, nosing into his jaw in the same way an affectionate cat would. “They’re not entirely sure, but it’s been stable for a few days.”

Keigo’s feathery (don’t think about it) eyebrows shot up, “That’s amazing, and there’s only a few spasms this week, too.”

(He kept good tabs on you, he had to.)

You hummed in agreement, a sad smile playing on your lips as it so often did.

With a quick blink, the light bouncing in your eyes faded, and the world felt a bit colder.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out of here,” You pressed closer to him. “There’s shelters, and some cities are taking refugees, but I don’t—”

Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.

(Keigo, mind you, is still focusing on the lack of light in your eyes and the chill of the air in the room.)

Something stirs, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t say anything. How Keigo used to have such a mouth, he didn’t know. These days, all he can is act, like somehow the loss of his wings came with the loss of his tongue.

Tugging you by the waist, mindful of the tender scar, he pulls you close, internally resolving.

...

She, the main Suit, visits him.

(It’s his last visitor at the hospital.)

There are no trumpeters, guards, or the like. It’s just the haggard president, matching Keigo with his dark circles and creased with new wrinkles and far-more grey sections in her slicked back hair.

The air stands still as she pulls up a chair, burying her head in her hands.

She, the Main Suit, has never been one to inquire as to how he is. Many of the others at the Commission were sweet, kind to him in youth, but she was all business.

Some things never change.

She breaks the silence of the room, “... do you want to be done, Hawks?”

The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.

He doesn’t answer.

They meet each other’s gazes; twenty years of fucked-up emotion being shared between the pair of them.

“We’ve done everything. Every healer, every quirk, every treatment, conventional or otherwise,” she’s too soft. “There’s nothing left to try.”

He knew that, he had to know that, right?

His throat feels sticky as he swallows down bile, the scars on his back burning anew. It’s somatic, it has to be, but his flesh crawls and writhes just like yours. His starshine. He hates the way his mind is racing, just as fast as it always has, but his body lacks the ability to keep up.

He grounds himself in the thought of you, his starshine. Your body. Your heat.

His narrow pupils refocus on the light tremble in her shoulders.

“I’m being honest, so I’ll ask again,” She meets his gaze, grey eyes as soulless and full as ever. “Do you want to be done?”

“Well, obviously I can't fight—”

“I mean it. All of it, Hawks. Maybe a few media appearances, but all this... shit. You’ve done enough.”

You’ve done enough.

The words bounce around in his skull.

“Do you want to be done?”

Done with being a hero.

That’s all he’d ever been, right? That is him, he is Hawks, for fuck’s sake, no one other than Dabi (may he rot and die and immolate in hell) even called him his actual name in years.

Keigo is Hawks.

His mouth is dry, and he tries to ignore the tears pricking his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s beginning to cry, and definitely not sure why tension is draining from his shoulders as he sighs out an answer.

“I’ll be done.”

You’ve done enough.

...

Hospital beds are a hot commodity, and now that Keigo had thrown in the towel (along with everyone else) to stop trying with his wings, he was to be discharged within a few days.

(“Just a few more days to adjust your body to your new medications—”)

He’d stopped listening after that.

...

Your last night together is so bittersweet, you taste it on each other’s tongues.

You have an episode early in the day. Your screaming wakes the floor, the burning smell of flesh cementing that it was you.

Keigo’s only half-lucid when he shoves into your room, holding your hands while nurses desperately try to administer pain medication.

It’s too much for you, the crawling edges of the scar once again consuming you in the molten, glowing amber veins of heat that tore through you so terribly.

You sleep the day away. Keigo stays with you for much of it, stroking the bones in the back of your hands.

...

He fucks you for the first time, that night.

His own IVs have been removed, he’s to be discharged first thing in the morning—

And he wants one more night of stargazing, please, please—

(Why’s he clutching at you so dearly?)

But you’re not in the common room.

Rather, you’re under a few thin blankets, eyes tired and lightless. Your arm is out of its cast, laying over the bed clothes. It scares him shitless at first as he tentatively enters. It’s you though, and the moment you see him, it’s like a flame, a good one, heats the room full and wide. A few specks of light dance in between your irises as your skin crinkles in a gentle smile.

You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.

The knowledge settles in the room like a weight that neither of you can move. So, Keigo takes to it and does what he can.

As opposed to his normal perch next to his bed, he sits beside you, removing the restraints on your wrists and helping you to sit up.

Keigo fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper and placing it at your bedside. It’s his phone number, an odd detail. Relationships usually shared far-earlier.

But there is nothing linear or normal about the two of you, or the situation you both sit and stewed in.

You both are making peace with it at your own pace.

The bed creaks as you move to sit beside him, legs dangling from the bed. There’s gooseflesh beneath your gown, the boring pattern obscured by the darkness of the room, but the molten lines of the scar ever-visible.

“I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”

But I wish that you weren’t leaving.

His hand finds your waist, careful like he always is, but so giving in the same breath.

“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”

But I’m going to miss you.

It’s inherent, and has been forever. Since the moment you both stargazed in the common room and watched the worlds high above twist and shine without regard to your own hells, you’ve been ensnared in the other and neither of you have a want or need to let go.

Even with the inevitably of progress.

Keigo drowns in these thoughts, and has been since Endeavor visited and he was reminded of the harsh reality just outside of their tree-ringed prison. The reality he has to return to—

He presses his lips to yours, more desperate and needy than he had before.

Keigo had taken his share of you before, little pecks and the rub of the bridge of his nose over your jaw and cheeks. He had been a bit greedier with his hands, uncaring of the eyes of the night nurses when he’d touched you in the common room.

But he’s insatiable that last night.

The sheets of the plastic bed are too scratchy, they’re too harsh for you, and it burns Keigo to his core as he lowers you down. He cradles what he can, as your fingers latch onto his clothes (real clothes) and tug him as close as you can get.

The machines in your room cry, but they’re forgotten.

You nip at his bottom lip, dragging yours across his clean-shaven jaw before laying into his neck with kiss after kiss. His muscles shake, holding him over you, both of you atrophied but uncaring.

You suck a deep, throbbing bruise on the fragile skin of his neck. It’s something dark that won’t fade for a week. The thought stirs something in his chest, a white-hot feeling that wants to crack his ribs and consume him. He doesn’t give in, he can’t—

“Stay with me, pretty eyes,” you whisper, so sweet and gentle as you push floppy strands of hair from his face. “Stay here, just for a little while longer.”

The reminder jolts him back, back to you, and the way your body (so tired, but unwavering) jumps and rolls under his touch. He’s a glutton for attention, always has been, but your particular brand and sounds keep pulse hot and hard.

Shaky fingers pull his shirt over his head, sweaty palms push the gown over your hips. By the starlight, you’re both seeing too much of each other, but this is a goodbye, there’s no time to dwell on the discomfort.

Keigo tries to be careful as he adjusts your legs, tries to be mindful of the raw skin and flesh that makes you whine and half-writhe. You clutch at him, still trying to pull him closer despite the proximity and heat, like you need him as opposed to just wanting him.

There’s no fanfare in it, just more rushed kisses and the swirling of fingertips over covered clit. You catch each other’s gasps in the mingling of breaths you share. It’s choking, suffocating, yet entirely not enough. You beg, quietly, for more. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and urge him to help pull your panties off and away.

More, more, more.

By the time he slides into you, you're still tense, but so is he, and in a pile of tension and fear and wishful-thinking, you both come undone, and undone, and undone—

...

Keigo leaves the next morning.

The press is there, flash bulbs blinding him after so long with just fluorescents and starlight. He manages an easy wave or two, no autographs or gleaming smiles, just business and numbness that he needed to hold onto, so he didn’t fucking break.

He slips into the Commission’s car and leaves behind the hospital, you, and its wall of man-laid greenery and prays to forget it all quickly. He has enough to mourn.

...

Keigo wants to off himself when he arrives back at his penthouse.

How can he not?

His ‘home’ (if he couldn’t even call it that) is a dusty, time capsule of everything before. Before he got fucked up with the League, before the PLF, before the war, before Jin—

Every untouched bit of his life from when it was a few, precious fractions better stands unturned. A discarded jacket, wing slits visible and frayed. Scattered dead feathers that make his skin crawl. Memorabilia too, old merchandise that he never cared much about, but he definitely didn’t need to be seeing it now that ‘Hawks’ had burned up and died.

All disgusting reminders.

Something burning fills the base of his skull when his gaze fixates on one of the old plumes. He reaches out to touch the spine of it, instinctually expecting a little jolt of feeling from it, like he always had.

But there’s nothing. It’s dead, decaying, and so is he.

The reality of it breaks him, quick, hard and hot. He burns alive a second time.

He clears the liquor cabinet while blaring music from his over-priced stereo system loud enough to make his ears ache and throb. The music isn’t drowning anything out, but it’s better to pretend.

He finds a bottle of old pills and downs them with a few swigs of expensive whiskey and lets go.

...

When he comes to, he’s staring into a smashed mirror, with his own nails crusted in blood from thin welts in the skin of the scar on his face.

Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t forgotten anything. The memories of blue flames, red feathers, and the smell of your skin mixed with isopropyl alcohol feel brighter than ever. He grounds on them as he sobers up, latching onto the pain of his scar tissue and the solace you gave.

And won’t ever give him again.

Something in him wilts as he defeatedly goes to his phone, arranging any number of things to get him the fuck out.

...

The penthouse is sold, his more important belongings gathered in bland boxes.

And he leaves. There’s no sentiment holding him there, not anymore.

Fukuoka is gone and some distant memory as he drives (yes, he forgot that he had that skill) him and his things to his new home.

His penthouse had been immaculate. Crisp interior design, new shapes and colors that were on trend. He was hardly home to appreciate the modern beauty of it, but he’d received enough compliments from random hookups to know that it landed aesthetically.

But honestly?

Who the fuck cared?

His penthouse had been sold to the highest bidder and far behind as he arrives at his new, high home in the sleekness of his far-too fancy, disused car.

...

He gets a call from an unknown number, another one, on some snowy day, deep in winter.

Keigo debates answering it. He almost lets it slip to voicemail. The only calls worth answering are the handful from the Commission that he has to heed, or the odd one from Rumi, Fuyumi, and on occasion, Endeavor.

Not random numbers, he has no patience for it.

Yet, he answers it lazily.

“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”

“P-Pretty eyes?”

His heart stutters in his chest, he swears—

“Starshine?” He sounds breathless, the air leached from his chest as he white-knuckles his thighs.

He’d given up on you contacting him, yet there you were, or at least your voice, mechanical and high bouncing around preciously in the walls of the cabin

There’s a moment of silence, nearly, just your light breathing that receiver picks up.

Your voice trembles when you break it, “Y-yeah, it’s me, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call—”

You don’t need to be sorry; he would wait for you forever, and then some.

“I d-don’t actually have a phone? Mine got trashed, uh, back then. I’m on the hospital’s line.”

Keigo hadn’t really considered that, he’s slipped the paper with his number on your bedside without a thought.

How much had you lost?

“No worries, chickadee,” Keigo is sure his smile is audible. “Why call now? Miss me too much?”

He had no idea.

You laugh, though it soured as you spoke, “I get discharged tomorrow.”

Keigo’s heart seizes again and he’s sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest.

“The guy who gave me the scar and all? He fucked up a few other people, word eventually got here. Once the scar stops... glowing, it rests. If you make it until then, you’re good.”

And alive.

“The whole injury is stable, has been for a week now,” Surprisingly, there’s no relief in your voice. “They need my bed, so they’re releasing me.”

No, no, no.

Where will you go?

Keigo doesn’t say it, but the question hangs in the air and is quickly answered.

“They got me a spot in one of the shelters close by... It’s only a couple hours by train!” You try to sound happy, but it’s so hollow and unnatural; it makes Keigo physically sit up.

No, no, no.

That won’t do.

“... What won’t do?”

Keigo hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

Something is buried in his chest, something warm and molten, like the old veins of your scar, just kinder and better. It’s full of urges, so seldom used, selectively as needed throughout his career as a hero.

The need to keep something precious safe.

The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.

Yet now? It’s practically screaming.

“Pretty eyes?” You sound scared through the phone. “A-Are you alright? I can call back—”

“No, don’t, do not.” Keigo lets the flame fill his chest, welcoming it. “You’re not going to that shelter.”

He has something to protect.

“I don’t have another choice—”

Someone.

“You do.” Keigo keeps his voice even, the muscles in his back writhing. If he still had his wings, they’d be puffed out and large. Impassioned with feeling he finally let breath between his ribs. “I’ll come get you, tomorrow.”

“... P-Pardon?”

He doesn’t hesitate, and for a moment, he starts to feel like his old self.

“Come home with me, starshine.”

++++++

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗

look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #hawks fanfic #hawks imagines #my hero academia #mha x reader #anyways tag wall #enjoy loves #smorch

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