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coffee-and-tea-time · 2 months ago

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⁺˚⋆｡°⚝ You choose... me? ⚝°｡⋆˚⁺

thank you thank you thank you thank you Yandere! Hacker x Yandere Lover! Reader

Did you miss us? ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨

We honestly loved writing this geek, we end up adding some mention of yanderes games we play together! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Coffee likes to watch me react to yandere vns oh, don't act like you didn't melt over some of them too shhh. Anyways, hope you all enjoy reading this as much as we enjoy writing it! ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ - Tea

Woah, feels like it's been a long time! (since I last have seen my son lost to this monster, to the man behind the slaughter) ♡ˎˊ˗ tbh I could keep talking about this for hours, I love yanderes (づ> v <)づ♡ * Jack Skellington is still in his Christmas phase? Maybe I could ask him for one as an early gift - coffee

if you want context, you can go here but it's not that necessary we think - the twins

word count: 3.3k

tw: yandere behavior, willing reader, writing in you/yours, this got some internet/yandere references hope y’all catch them (links will be below the story, please do tell us if we missed any) If you don’t know them, take them as recommendations ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ (weird to say that when there’s a blood soup reference on here, is like the canon event of everyone who likes yanderes), anxiety attack?, yapper yandere

Huh, honestly the one that struck you the most sure had to be Grier, you still can catch every so often from the corner of your eye how different security cameras move all of the sudden, probably hoping to find one not taped unsuccessfully, talk about stalkerish, cute.

“I will choose… Grier”

The seller gives you a soft sigh, almost of defeat but also relief, tapping his foot as he glances over at the one security camera that was moving now on the far right corner of the shop, moving frantically from side to side as if searching for something. He abruptly lifts up from his seat and groans.

“Alright, I'll go get the ladder…”

The seller goes down the wooden ladder after taking the tape off the camera lense and signs for you to come closer to it.

"The cameras here don't have sound but showing you to him should be enough of a clue all by itself"

You freeze as the security camera focuses on you, standing there, you wave awkwardly and the camera starts moving side to side abruptly before freezing, like the person behind it moved away from it.

"Well, either he fainted or he is coming right away!"

The seller says in a cheerful voice as he goes to cover the camera lense again with a strip of tape. A couple of minutes pass before you hear the screeching stop of a car parking in front of the shop hurriedly, soon followed by a panting man who barges inside like his life depended on it.

“I’m here! I'm here!!”

He says almost tripping on his own feet as he shoves in your face a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Oh, those are my favorites! Thank you"

"I-I know, don't worry, I made sure to do a quick background check on your medical history so I don't trigger any allergies, I promise I will gather more information tonight! Don't worry"

Well, you can’t really be surprised by his actions since you were warned, though you were by his speed, how did he manage to hurry here driving, buy you flowers and check your medical history in the process? I guess you’d never know, maybe he's a student of Penelope García.

“Well, Grie-”

As the seller attempts to congratulate you both, hand hovering over your shoulder to pat it as a friendly mannerism, Grier is quick to slap it away with a glare that makes you remember a surly cat.

“Is everything ready? I would much rather finish paperwork as quickly as possible”

Wow, that’s a really sudden change of tone, the distant and somewhat professional posture he took in a matter of seconds makes you think if the Grier that was tripping over his feet, babbling nervously while giving you flowers was just a trick of your imagination, but the theory quickly dies as he places his stare on you again, his expression completely changing, getting all flustered and blushy again… cute.

“Well, shall we get going? I hope you like my house but of course you can redecorate it- we can redecorate it oh maybe we should go first to your house to get an example? I can mimic your space so you feel comfier although if that makes you uncomfortable of course we don't need to I just would love to know more about you so that I don't messed up, well, not only things I mean get to everything about you, but please don't feel pressur-”

“Grier, we got the memo, continue yapping out of the store. And for you Dear, I hope you find your happy ending with that parrot you bought, no refunds or returns are allowed."

The seller, who looks like he's about to get a migraine if he keeps hearing Grier, quickly kicks him out and says his farewells to you. As you exit the store behind Grier, he is quick to show you the way to his car.

"Thanks.. uh, do you mind if we go to my place real quick?"

Well, it's pretty obvious he will take you to his house and you can't really back up now so, you only need to gather some thi- oh, he's already panicking.

"Your place? Going to mine doesn't sound appealing? I-I can change it! What's the thing you would totally love that my house had? It's not like I don't want to see your house I honestly would love to but you do plan to come to mine after, right? Maybe you'd rather be in your place? But then we'd be so far away… or course I don't want to bother you I swear I can do and buy whatever will suit you best to be comfortabl-"

"We're gonna go grab some of my clothes! I need my things, then we can go to your house"

The seller wasn't lying when he said Grier is a rambler type of person, but you can't really be annoyed by it, his voice is honestly so damn good, and the way it sounded when he went all serious mode talking to the seller was just… wait, no, no time for simping right now, you gotta think what do you need to gather from your house.

"Oh yes of course of course sorry I got worried for a momento although it would've nice to go shopping together if you forgot something of course we can also shop online if you don't really like crowded places oh, I… god"

As he was talking, you honestly were more focused on how pretty his watery eyes are, just hearing bla bla bla, you can't help but start caressing his hair, it seems like it took him by surprise but certainly not in a bad way, leaning into your touch as you run your fingers through his messy, wavy but soft hair, you must admit that you thought it was tangled at first but that isn't the case.

Ah, right, your things.

"Well, shall we get going?"

You watch him nod, seeming incredibly out of words, as he red faced opens the door for you before going to his seat and searching for something in his phone before he starts driving. Uh, then you have full control over the music? He seems like in his own world and you hardly doubt he minds you changing the music when he still can't even cool down his blush… you must tease him from time to time for funsies, noted.

Part of you wanted to put that one song from ayesha erotica but maybe it was a little weird, so you switch to the safe choice: do nothing. You switch to your phone to make a little note for yourself about important things you need.

Oh, right

You forgot to tell him your address because you were too focused on other things, well… just as you remembered he was already parking in front of your apartment anyways-

Grier makes his way out of the car once the engine is off, walking around the car to open the door for you, helping you out with his hand, then walking alongside you as you make your way up to your floor and through the door of your apartment.

"Here, make yourself at home, I’ll be picking my clothes”

Although it doesn’t seem very smart to let someone like him snoop around, though you can’t help but also be curious about what he will do and, well, it’s not like he can do much since it's just your house… right?

Anyways, you left him for a moment to go pack clothes, catching him nervously walking around from time to time, but he seems really the quiet type, surely more on the soft yandere side, his droopy innocent eyes made him look the part. damn wrong Dear, you seems like a yandere amateur, try again.

"Ugh, I still have so much to pack"

You murmured, already getting tired of the repetitive grap-and-pack motion, impatient to get to talk to your little yapper and get to know him better. Speaking of the devil, you feel his presence behind you, his shadow betraying his location as it engulfs you, then feeling a soft tap on your shoulder, so soft in fact it seemed as if your shoulder was made of needles.

"You don't have to worry about your computer and stuff. I already have them backed up, t-to save you time! Since you seemed stressed and said I could snoop around I thought about helping a bit and backing up your devices… same with all your accounts- just to help of course"

Well, now you know what he was up to while you were busy.

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE

"...did you check my browser history?"

You blurt out the question as you run through the chance of any incriminating, possibly cringy, piece of information in your phone that might require some explanation… God forbid if he found your tumblr-

"...No"

He did.

"I have a tiny question though, if you don't mind of course- the last thing I want to do is bother you in any way"

He totally did.

"....depends, what do you want to ask, Dear?"

Okay, you got this, you got a yandere for something. Whatever he asks you, if it turns out awkward, there's little that can't be solved by some pampering when it's related to yanderes, how he giggled when you called him Dear confirming this notion. You got this.

"I just was, you know, curious about what games you played, I wasn't prying! But, you know, it's good to know your interest to get to know you better and maybe play together while cuddling on the couch and have some hot cocoa with little marshmallows as we wrap ourselves in a big blanket…. Anyways, the point it's… what's exactly your type?"

Okay, you don't got this.

"Huh, how is one thing related to another?"

It's better to buy a little time while you think of a correct answer for that. Would it be too cheesy to say something like 'you'? Maybe you really should have bought that manual for 'how to take care of your yandere' when they offered it to you on the website.

"Well, wandering around a bit I found you seem to like playing something called 'dating sim'? According to what I saw it's like flirting and romance virtual characters although the stories really differ from one to another which makes it really confusing to figure out what's your taste to be honest"

Alright, you have to reply quickly to give him some peace, maybe he found one that really didn't resemble him and got nervous? It doesn't sound wise to let a yandere get insecure.

"My type is…"

You gently place your hand on his chin to make him look directly into your eyes.

“Let 's see… My type has gorgeous, green, droopy eyes, a bedhead that, I must say, is pretty damn soft, the kinda guy that rambles a lot and seems to have this nervous habit of straightening his clothes and, especially, my type is a certain guy that can't take his eyes off of me”

You watch as a red tint paints his cheeks, a shivering smile appears on his face as he takes a step closer to you nuzzling himself onto your hand like a cat asking for attention.

"Really? Can you promise that? Will you willingly say that into a microphone? Just for the record, do you really really see me as your ideal?"

"Of course, of course, who wouldn't find an adorable hacker this endearing?'

"Then... you got a thing for hackers? So, your favorite was that seven zero seven?"

Did you really hear that right?

…

You can’t help but feel your past haunting your back.

"It's a really good character, although, I find kinda sad that seven has this hint at him being aware of every reset"

Does this count as dodging the question? Maybe.

"Following that logic, I'm aware of every breath you take so does that means I can get more of your attention? Or maybe I'm being too greedy though you seem to have spent a lot of your time romancing them, obviously I'm not judging you but that means that it would be okay also for me to check on you at every hour, even if it's 2 am? Just to make sure you don't need anything, of course! That you're well cared for… or do I require something else to be worthy of that? Please tell me, is it my personality? I don't really think so since, well, I see you gush over intense personalities such as that… Damon? Deimon? The game isn't even finished but you seem to like everything about him although he doesn't really show you about himself. That means that what makes up your favorability is... The attention over you?"

Oh god, he found itchi.io, better start praying he didn't see anything weird.

"Well, they are just… games I played because I was bored, you shouldn't look too much into those”

"But you play more than one or two which means that you really enjoyed playing them and searching for more of that kind but I can't help but be confused and intrigued about what is that something, you even liked one where the characters shared the same body as a human and… a fae? I didn't really understand but they seem really different, which makes it very hard to find a pattern, but that isn't the only one you played like that, you also have one that switches between a shy boy and a flirty one, do you like the contrast? What exactly is that thing that makes you fawn over them? Maybe it would be good if I got two different aesthetics? I can't hide my name like that ‘redacted’ guy that looks mysterious…but I can change looks out of the blue and leave little clues of something? But, about what? I really don't have that much to tell and my stalking it's pretty much obvious, I also don't have superpowers to act like the hero one."

"Honey, it's okay, you don't need to do such a thing, as I said, I like you, those are just games I play in my free time to not get bored"

"Maybe it will be better if I go directly to straightforward characters? That 'Friend' was really honest most of the time, that… fan? Monster? Also was honest, why is there so much variety? But there also was people that were better at hiding it like that mushroom boy or that sol… it's difficult to stabilize a pattern if they keep variating so much, maybe I should put my focus on the ones you know the longer, I had to buy a seifuku and chase you with a chainsaw? No, there's the possibility I could injure you and I absolutely can't risk that, maybe I can buy a mannequin and put a synthetic deer head and say it my brother"

Okay, just how many did he see? Why does he need a pattern in the first place? You literally choose him, but well, he seems to want it to get more of your attention… Why don't give him so? Probably will help him to calm down, you aren't planning to do a crossover of Perfect Love with this guy.

"Dear, look directly at me for a second, did you hear what I was telling you? Listen to me, those are games, you are the one here with me, don't you think that you are already winning by far with that thing alone?"

You pinch his cheeks to get him to stop rambling about favorites, finally, and his eyes seem focused on you once again.

"Well, that's right, I'm the one feeling your touch, even if is a romance game, I'm the one closer to you although I'm not a big fan of you giggling and choosing flirty things but that hobby also means staying more at home where I can stick around more, if I think it carefully, it's something safe overall”

As you let go of his cheeks, he is quick to hold your hand in order to forbid you to move it away, leaning his cheek into your palm again as he talks.

"Yeh, there's a lot of people with the same taste in stories that me, so you can say they are pretty popular, don't look into it so much, there's no need to bother your mind with such a thing, these are just things I enjoy reading"

"It's true that they are just stories, you enjoy reading about lovesick so much? That's why you use tumblr? It makes sense since the blogs you follows also have the same theme and there's even one you seems to check frequent that's seems to have everything about yanderes… that's like you don't enjoy them in particular but the yandere part, don't you? That… sounds wonderful like it was probably obvious since you bought me but if you keep so much of your time looking for more of them that means you will just love my little antics too? please please say yes please please please"

Fuck, he did enter to your tumblr and even checks your followings, thanks god he end up with a good train of thought at the end.

"Yes, you're the one here, you shouldn't worry about the little hobbies I have, I just enjoy the reading, It's called dark romance and every character is different because one thing or another, you gonna get a headache if you think about it too much"

And please don't search more. Sadly, you can say that, he will definitely search more if you said it like that.

"Well, that makes sense, after all, you won't go into the yandere shop if you don't know anything about the subject, and there's a lot of options and… I win, because you chose me to let me be with you”

Well, your danger Kitty seems a lot more calm by now, you should note that if he starts rambling non-stop, focusing your stare at him totally works.

Well, you better start going before he start snooping on tumblr or worse: find c.ai

"Love, you know something? I'm getting sleepy, why don't we finish packing another day? I'm curious to see how it's your place"

"O-oh yes yes of course! I hope you find my house of your likeness but of course you can change whatever you don't like or if the neighborhood is not of your likeness we can also change that just differents methods I'd it the locations or the neighbors perse but I can totally take care of it you said you were sleepy, don't you? I have a spare room but if you are comfortable with it my bed is pretty comfy of course the spare room also has a comfy bed but…"

He keep yapping, you can't really help but giggled as he goes on with excuses on why you two should totally nap together for a better sleep as you two make your way out with some of your things to put them in his car, and as you get comfortable on your seat and he drives…. The unthinkable happens.

"Yes, we can eat that after napping together dear"

"Awesome! I love to spend more time with you as much as possible, we can watch something as he eat, oh right, we can totally watch that anime you saw"

Just like your breath, the cars stop for a moment at the red light.

"...which anime?"

He smiles to you, like excited to show off he knows a cool fact and pull his phone to research something quickly, and show you a photo of that one anime.

"You did really liked tha-"

"We don't talk about that one"

You feel your past decisions haunting your back once again.

That one anime for me totally will be Diabolik Lovers ngl- don’t proud of myself on that (if curious, my fav Sakamaki was Kanato and fav Mukami was Azusa), although I saw weirder, I hope Grier doesn’t bring those up, I rather them buried ~ coffee

My questionable past anime has to be Brother’s conflict…WAIT THAT SOUNDS SO WRONG- I didn’t like the brothers aspect, not one bit! I sort of started watching thinking the thing was going to be about brothers being into the same girl and competing against each other, I didn’t think they’d be competing for their FUCKING STEP-SISTER. so yeah… the ending and opening were sick though…Coffee still teases me by playing them from time to time. ~ Tea (I totally recommend playing those out of the blue around a person who watched that anime, it's always fun ~ coffee)

All the links to the things Grier mentions in his ramblings:

Penelope Garcia is the hacker of criminal minds.

Binary Star Hero

A DOUBLE SIDED MIRROR

MONSTER X MEDIATOR

The Kid at the Back

Mystic Messenger (phone app)

*coff coff* I must say, the Tumblr blog Grier makes reference of, is totally talking about maleyanderecafe, if you like yanderes, you had to know them, they got everything about yanderes, I love them (so yeh, the mention is cuz I wanted to fangirl a little) ~ Coffee

See Thru: Need a Friend?

Inclement Idée Fixe

Mushroom Oasis

Broken Colors

Duality

14 Days With You

Perfect Love

Blood Soup

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest ⚘

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butchspace · 1 year ago

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I guess I kind of just use this account for PSAs now, and this has been on my mind a lot lately.

I figured out that I have OCD a few years ago, and recently I’ve seen a lot of bad advice around dealing with intrusive thoughts and obsessions.

There’s that post that goes around occasionally about “taking pictures of your oven knobs before you leave” or other things I’ve seen that say to “make a weird face when you lock your door.” THESE ARE COMPULSIONS. If you have/suspect you have OCD or you often struggle with things like that, please do not follow this advice. Instead, try to accept your intrusive thoughts and move on, not argue with them. Over time, they will get easier and easier to deal with. Ruminating, stressing, or arguing with them just makes them worse in the long run.

If you think you might have OCD and want to seek a specialist, the IOCDF’s home page has a lot of resources under the “find help” tab, including a locator.

I’m going to put the rest under a read-more because I’m going to talk a bit more in depth about intrusive thoughts and compulsions. This mostly because good OCD info is so sparse on line, and I’ve spent many hours compulsively researching OCD lmao.

Content warning:

discussion of unreality/doubting one’s own perception

discussion of specific compulsions

I’m not going to push this point too hard or shame anyone who doesn’t want to follow it, because OCD doesn’t really just go away. It’s a constant struggle. I give in to compulsions regularly, even though I am medicated and have seen a specialist to learn actual coping skills. It’s hard to resist sometimes and you don’t always have the energy, the awareness, or the power to ignore them. You do what you have to do to get through your day. The main difference is that the right medication and the right therapist make it easier to stay out of the spiral and to leave a spiral when you’re in one. They still happen. You still kind of have to play everything by ear.

Similarly, it is super fucking hard to get help or even get diagnosed. No regular therapist actually knows what the fuck it looks like, and specialists are few and far between and often don’t take insurance. It’s not fair or easy or necessarily productive to try and do exposure response prevention on yourself. Your “good coping skills” can even turn into an obsession or compulsion, where you’re constantly worried about what is an intrusive thought and what is not, or if you’re responding to them properly.

What I want to do is try to give at least some useful advice to people who are struggling with intrusive thoughts.

The best way to respond to them is not at all. This is especially true with OCD, because the response to them is sort of the root of this disorder. Sometimes, it’s recommended that with depression or anxiety you challenge your thoughts. In OCD, it’s the opposite. Challenging them can so easily lead you down a compulsion spiral. (More about that cycle from a professional.)

Compulsions can be entirely mental, but I’ll use a common behavioral one to look at how engaging with compulsions can go:

You start by taking a picture of the your stove knobs to make sure they’re all off. That works for a few hours or days, but then you start wondering if the knob is ever-so-slightly in the “on” position. You wonder if the picture proves they’re off enough. You forget to take the picture at all, and have to go back in to check anyways. You check your phone a few times before leaving to ensure that the picture is still there. You take several pictures because you can’t tell if you actually took any at all. You start to wonder if you can even trust what you see before your very eyes. What if you’re just imagining that the knobs are set to off? What if you’re just imagining the whole picture to begin with? The picture allows you to engage with your checking compulsion throughout the day, strengthening the connection between the intrusive thought and the urgency to do something about it. That means it gets worse. That means you find new ways to doubt your perception or your memory or whatever.

It can eventually get really bad. It’s hard and awful to try and deal with this on your own, but sometimes you have to.

It’s so shit. It’s so fucking shit how long many people suffer with mental illness without even knowing what’s going on. I didn’t know that my constant, overwhelming guilt over almost everything I’d ever thought or said or done or maybe did and couldn’t remember was the result of a disorder. It was so freeing to realize there was actually something that might help me, and I could learn to just live with myself and my weird ass thoughts that don’t necessarily mean anything at all. It’s so shit that OCD-awareness is so low among therapists. I was never going to get diagnosed until I found an OCD SPECIALIST (bold, italicized, all caps. Don’t trust people on psychology today who just put OCD in the list of what they treat.) and went over the Y-BOCS with her. It’s all so shit that several therapists I came to with textbook examples of OCD either ignored me or didn’t have the tools to help. I told one of them I “didn’t feel connected to reality” and he kind just went 🤷.

I just want everyone who is in that/a similar situation to at least have this information available to them.

If you want to learn more, these blogs from Sheppard Pratt were the best discussion of OCD I found online that really described what I was going through. They’re written by licensed therapists, several (all?) of whom live with OCD. They’re very healing to read if this is something you’re struggling with, or something you think you might be struggling with, and great in general if you want to learn more about OCD.

Whatever’s going on, OCD or not, have some grace with yourself. Take a few minutes today and do something kind for yourself, even just think one nice thing about yourself. You’re doing the best you can.

#actually ocd #ocd #ocd awareness #do with this what you will but I stresses me the hell out when I see people #uncritically reblog posts suggesting new compulsions to people #because they worked on me and made my ocd worse #im sure a lot of those suggestions came from others with ocd so I’m not trying to come after anyone about this #I just feel like I don’t see a lot of discussion about this stuff in general and even in the notes on those posts

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notthatnoodle · 7 months ago

Text

Tombstone Redemption

~Van Der Linde Gang meets the Cowboys~

”Gentlemen! May I simply ask you to listen to my, proposal.”

”Hear that, boys? We’re going to have some fun tonight, shall we!”

~~~~~~~~~~

And my dumb talk about cowboys, mental health, and me being so unsure of my drawing skills. Buckle up cowboy, it's going to be a long one.

~~~~~~~~~~

Do you know that feeling, when you have an idea. And that idea is something that scares you? Because I do, too clearly if one may say.

I wanted to do something. Draw something that I would be proud of. But how to do that when you just hate everything you do, when it feel overwhelming to do.

Well, just trying to do it. Just trying to enjoy the journey and the things I'm doing while on it.

It was scary to start, but I still had a plan for it, you know.

Something big, scary.

"This is never going to look good. It's going to be terrible."

"It's going to take so long, it's going to look stupid."

"I already hate it."

That's what I thought at the time, while doing the sketch.

And you know what...

I did. But after days of just doing the lines again and again, it finally got better. After DAYS. For me it might take weeks before I can continue working on something which looks bad in my eyes.

I hated to do the line art first, I hated to do it, so much that I almost gave up because it already, alone, felt overwhelming. I didn't like it one bit. The characters didn't look like themselves, and I wasn't happy. No one has any idea how long it took to do it.

BUT i finally did it. I got flat colors done. And from there, I could finally move to the next part. And I was so happy how it turned out, it gave me hope, feeling of success.

"I can do it."

"I can do the next part too."

I was in halfway now, the RDR2 side was ready, except the lighting and the shadows of course but anyway. To get myself to do the rest, I asked myself...

Why I do this again?

And the answer to that was surprisingly simple.

I do this because even it feels so overwhelming at times, I love to do it. I love to see what I'm capable of. I love to draw, sketch, do things like that.

Because it helps my mental health.

Because I need to get my inspiration out to a paper.

Because I love westerns

Because RDR2 became my comfort game.

Because Tombstone became my comfort movie.

Because I have no money to travel to the other side of the world to a meetings or something. I have to create my own "meetings", in a way of an art.

Because both, RDR and Tombstone, have helped me in the past year, in the ways I never imagined would be possible.

Who would've known long time ago that I wouldn't need any meds in couple of years because some sad, rough, cold, unstable cowboy men, huh?

I've heard so many times that people have called comfort characters "cringe" or "weird."

And that "you should get real help."

Well, I did. I had that real help, but beside the medication that helped, I just couldn't find anything to talk about with the professionals.

I never personally have liked talking (but it's still good, try it) and I've always used art and writing to get all my feelings out. Tbh, it haven't helped the situation that I'm terrible at recognizing my own feelings.

And, well.

If anyone would've said back in 2020 that "In couple years your mental health is going to get better because of Arthur Morgan and Johnny Ringo" I would've been so confused.

"Who??? Where??? When???"

The two most mentally stable men in the universe, right?

But you see, here we are. Still trying to decide do I hate my art or not. But even still, it's finally on place where I dreamed it would be when I was 14 years old and could only draw poor dogs and cats.

I may not feel like it, but I try to remind myself many times in a day. That this is what I wanted, this is what I worked for.

The progress has been slow, but it's still showing up. But I want to get better, I want to draw even more better, to get more realistic or something. I'm not even sure myself. Can you believe it? 10 years of drawing and I'm still not sure what I want my style really to be, other than somewhat realistic.

The progress is slow, but it's here. The mental health and drawing skills are both growing even I may not admit it to myself. And I still want to get better.

There is going to be bad times, there is always going to be bad times, those are never going to disappear. But what also is not going to disappear, is my passion to my art. To the characters, to the world they live in.

It's surely going to stay a big part of me, even it may fade in some point. But it is still there, a part which shows what helped me get back up.

As a reminder to myself how I got better. And that healing journey isn't in the end. Is only just begun.

It's a journey I'm afraid of, excited, curious, terrified...

But it's going to be amazing, hard, I'm going to hate and love every second of it.

And that's good. It means I've finally managed to dig up my closed emotions.

I may be able to know what I feel for the first time in years. I might be able to feel something that has been hidden away since forever.

And all that just because of some Cowboy Depression Simulator and the movie with the Cowboys and tuberculosis.

Seriously, they both end almost same way and managed to broke my fucking heart while doing it. And still they are probably the best things that have ever happened to me.

What I learned, what I thought while doing this art and thinking it's meaning... Only person you can let down in this planet is yourself, and only person who really knows everything you've done to get back up, is yourself. So, give a hug to you, give a tap to you, give a hamburger to you or something.

The good begins before the bad things end.

So go kick this day to the balls or something, somewhere where the sun doesn't shine, get it all back to yourself.

Carpe diem and have some FAITH to yourself...

Because you really don't know how good the light of tomorrow morning could feel.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. I believe in y'all.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Setri.

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donnerpartyofone · 1 year ago

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I can't believe I'm about to do this. I mean don't get too excited, it's not interesting, I'm just forced to talk about it because that's the only power I have in this stupid situation.

A couple weeks ago I was prescribed this new asthma medication, even though my problem is almost definitely from muscular-skeletal pressure but nobody can figure that out yet, so for now I just have this inhaler so I'm not constantly suffocating. The first time I took it at the recommended dosage I had a bad panic attack that took me out for an entire day. I reduced the dosage so I didn't feel dangerously insane anymore, but it still causes my fucking rosacea to go completely out of control, which is not really something I can just ignore; it drives me crazy that insurance companies just treat rosacea like it's some fancy cosmetic issue, as if it doesn't affect your entire life when your skin is visibly deteriorating at an escalating rate, but that's another story... So anyway I have a giant bag of medications that either didn't work at all or actively harmed me (my typical experience with everything) that I haven't disposed of yet, so I dug around in there for a tube of Rhofade that like I don't even know how I got it because it's the premiere celebrity-endorsed thing and it's psychotically expensive, but anyway I decided to give it another shot because I'm desperate. First couple days it worked great. I thought all my problems were solved, except that I'd have to find a way to keep paying for it. Then it seemed not so great for a couple days. Then things started to get pretty rocky. I wondered if it had to do with not being careful enough in the sun or what, but I started to worry about the medication, so I did something that will sound insane, but oh well.

Months ago I complained to my GP that I was having a hard time finding a "real dermatologist" in the city, as opposed to a salesperson for predatory beauty treatments. I've been treated pretty badly by a variety of dermos over 15 years, I often had the feeling that I was neglected because I had a medical concern as opposed to like an expensive anti-aging concern or something. Sometimes a dermo advertises themselves as a medical professional, but when you get there you realize they're a glorified beautician and you're fucked. I went to a well-reviewed practice that's now called The Dermatology Specialists several times, and every time there was a mad rush to get rid of me. The actual head of the clinic saw me a couple times, and both times he came running at me with a needle without telling me what he was doing, to try to lance a mole that I wasn't there to discuss. One of these was right over my eye and you can imagine how scary this was. I eventually realized I didn't have to take that shit and swore him off. Years later when I decided to look for a dermo in my new neighborhood, I made an appointment at a "new" place that I realized too late was the same guy; he had rebranded and expanded his thing into a giant chain that's all over the city, like half or more of the dermos in my searches are attached to his practice and it's not always obvious until the appointment is made. Fuck. I thought, maybe things will be different at this location, I'm seeing a new person and I'm the only one in the waiting room, seems pretty chill. I actually had to get a mole removed that time. I sat down with the new doctor who frantically explained what she was going to do to me before saying "OK BYE!!!" and racing out the door, which she had almost closed all the way behind her before she remembered that she still had to actually do the procedure. I couldn't believe I'd fallen for this clinic's bullshit yet again!

So that's when I talked to my GP and she wrote me a referral for what I took to be a real doctor. His office was clean, simple, and unpretentious. When I got there, an exiting patient was thanking the doctor profusely for something, like from the depths of his soul. We sat down together and he calmly denounced all the lasers and other expensive snake oil that had been upsold to me over the years. He told me to scale back to just a basic Aveeno face wash and moisturizer, and I was so relieved that he wasn't some greedy hipster asshole...however. He also told me that the active ingredient in Afrin, an OTC decongestant nasal spray, has the same effects as the top of the line rosacea medication Rhofade, and many of his patients have success just applying it to their skin. I was so impressed that he wasn't trying to sell me anything, and that he was empowering me to just take care of my own shit at home, that I believed him.

So flashing forward to the past week: I use this new inhaler that I need if I want to breathe, my face blows up like a bomb, I try Rhofade and it seems to make things worse...and then I buy some Afrin and put it on. It pretty much burned my face off my skull. My skin was purple and my face completely changed shape for more than 24 hours. I thought, at least I have this cold pack that's made for faces, for swelling from dental surgery and shit (it was recommended to me by my TMJ specialist who is also fucking with me right now but that's another story). I applied it, and it made everything a thousand times worse than it had ever been. I had to cancel all my plans. I took Tylenol, antihistamines, drank tons of water, whatever I thought would help. A colloidal oatmeal-based moisturizer kind of did something for me, but not remotely enough. It's a couple days later, now, and I'm still not completely over it, and I'm having random intense and painful flareups. I've never had exactly this problem before. And by the way "just using a moisturizer" has not helped anything at all this entire time, even though it's the advice I always get (sometimes VERY rudely) no matter what I say. Dry skin is not my problem, someone could tell just from touching it. Just being mindful of the sun and trigger foods and shit is not the answer. I know there's something else going on and like nobody cares to find out.

So anyway I'm having a followup appointment with my GP to explain all this...and in the meantime I'm going back to the fucking snake oil clinic. I just absolutely need something for right now, I don't know if it will be an antibiotic or what. I've spent years looking for a real medical dermatologist and I know I'm not going to just find one overnight, so I'm subjecting myself to more humiliation at the most convenient place, and I'll deserve whatever I get I guess. At least my appointment is with a guy I haven't seen before. Cross your fingers for me that he doesn't give me something else that just melts my face off of my face.

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the-present-is-a-gift-au · 9 months ago

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Chapter 31: In Which Kip Loses a Race

Twig wasn’t necessarily acting off as Kip ordered a meal to split between them at Spinda’s Cafe. She was still herself. She still laughed the same, over-loud way, she still loved the seasoning on that one grilled berry dish and wanted to figure out how Spinda made such a bland, slightly sweet fruit the star of a savory meal, and she still hated juice and always ordered water instead. But there was something underlying all of that. She laughed loudly, and it seemed like a performance— a way to convince him that she was having a good time. She chit-chatted about that one dish and it seemed like she was trying to distract him from the way her tail nervously twitched against the floor. She ordered water and always took a sip when he asked her a question, like she needed to buy herself precious seconds to think of an answer.

They finished at Spinda’s and started on the walk home. It wasn’t too long of a distance, but it certainly wasn’t to the market and back, so it was starting to get dark by the time they hit Treasure Town.

They chatted as they went, and Twig seemed more relaxed as they walked holding each other’s hands. Maybe Kip was judging Twig’s nervousness too harshly. It had been three years since he had last set foot in Treasure Town, and Twig always did have a habit of making things up in her head into bigger sources of stress than they needed to be. He should know— he had the same bad habit of overthinking and catastrophizing.

They really were a perfect match for each other in that way. They both knew how the other’s brain worked— for the most part, at least— and knew how to talk them down from whatever mountain of worries they had worked up for themself. It was a good fit for them to be friends. It made for a wonderfully self-regulating dynamic.

“You look more like a swampert than a marshtomp,” Twig said, breaking the silence as they walked.

“It kind of freaked me out, to be honest. I thought I was sick or something. Our medic said it was an evolution that almost doubled over. Can you believe it? I almost became a swampert in one fell swoop! Imagine how tall I’d be…” He trailed off, elbowing Twig playfully.

She didn’t elbow him back, instead looking crestfallen all of a sudden.

“Are you okay? Did I say something weird?”

“You’re fine, Kip, I just… I was thinking about how I barely evolved at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m more charmander than charmeleon. Sure, I’m a bit beefier and I’ve got less baby fat, but I still have a charmander’s coloring and everything. I talked to Celebi about it, actually, and she said it’s probably the temporal distortion acting up. She’s not sure I’ll ever evolve again, or if I'll fully evolve if I end up getting another evolution by some miracle.”

“Hey—” Kip put an arm around her shoulders. “You know evolution isn’t that big a deal, right? Lots of pokemon only ever evolve once, or not at all. It’s not an important thing around here. Not unless you want to evolve like Ursaring did. And then you have all the trouble of people mixing you up!” He joked halfheartedly. It killed him, seeing Twig so upset. She didn’t react to the humor, and he worried he overstepped, but he wasn’t sure how to cheer her up.

Twig’s brow creased in frustration before she sighed, relaxing. “Yeah. You’re right. I dunno why I’m treating it like getting good grades in school or whatever. Why cry over it? It’s not a problem worth worrying over.”

“Yeah! Though, um… Definitely get checked out by a professional if you evolve again and it’s another half-evolution. You might have some health problems if you do, and as much as I love Celebi, she’s not exactly certified.”

A small smile twitched at the corners of Twig’s mouth. “You’d think that she would be, after how long she spent bragging about bringing Grovyle back from the brink of death.”

“It’s a little worrisome how proud of that she is.”

“Seriously. I get that she’s saying she’s good at healing people, but I thought that she would be a bit more tactful about it.”

“You’re one to talk, Miss I beat up multiple Legends and only died once on a technicality, therefore I am the best fighter ever.”

“Wh— that was a joke! I was joking! I was doing a funny bit! And it wasn’t even that concerning!”

“Grovyle looked like he was going to have an aneurysm. I thought that I was going to have an aneurysm.”

“You guys just can’t handle a good laugh. That’s all.”

“Or maybe you can’t handle us worrying about you, kidder.”

Twig fell abruptly silent, eyes wide and mouth still opened in whatever rebuttal she was prepared to launch back, but then snapped her jaws closed, silent.

“… Twig? You good?”

She shook herself, and Kip recognized how she tried to disguise the shift in whatever she was thinking about as a shiver. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m just tired. And cold. It’s freezing out here.”

“Oh! Yeah, we’re having a really late frost this year, apparently. Dugtrio said he could feel it in his toe-claws. Which… is weird. I didn’t know he had claws. Or feet.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit… extremely unsettling. But a late frost? Again? It’s been warm for ages, but we’re getting one final little hurrah of a cold snap! We had one a couple years ago, and it was the worst. I was practically holed up inside for the first few weeks of spring.”

“You need to get tested or something. It’s not often that a water-type handles cold better than a fire-type.”

“It’s not often that a fire-type didn’t grow up as a fire-type, either.”

Kip slapped his forehead. “Oh. Duh, of course. I know you were once a human, but sometimes it feels like you were always a charmander before we met. I mean, it might as well have been that way, considering that you don’t remember being human much.”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep, just chilly. Come on, let’s pick up the pace and get back to the bluff already!”

“Wh—” He froze, shocked when Twig took off in a sprint. He rushed forward to keep up, struggling to match her speed. “Slow down! I’m not as fast as you!”

“Loser has to make dinner!”

“We just ate, you menace!”

Twig let out a cackle, high and proud in its sound, and Kip held onto the hope he was just making up the way she looked so terrifyingly sorrowful when he mentioned her amnesia.

#the present is a gift au #pmd eos #pmd fanfic #pmd fic #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd fanfiction #pmd explorers #pmd2 #pmd #pmd sky

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spoilertv · 8 months ago

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#SpoilerTV

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wordsbymae · 2 years ago

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OHHHH!!!! Criminal yandere x do-gooder reader!!! That is so cute! Like after a successful yet risky heist, he all cut up or maybe got shot, so he’s limping to the nearest building that he can hide in. And once he figures he’s safe he collapses and is past out from the lack of blood. You come to his aid and when he wakes up he sees you looming over him as you disinfect and wrap up his last wound/cut. He tries to attack you but immediately stop and winces when the pain kicks in, and opts to lay back down. You scold him and say he shouldn’t be so careless and watch where he’s going so he wouldn’t trip over himself so much (“she can’t be this dumb”). He past out in her apartment building and she took him back to her apartment and fixed him up. He befand to relax when he realizes you aren’t a threat and is actually very gullible. You don’t know who he is. And weridly he finds comfort out of it. You don’t look at him in disgust or another bum off the street or worse with pity, like everyone else does. The days he stay with you, he falls in love. And years later he tells your kids it was love at first sight. He would come back bloody and cut up from another risky yet successful heist, just for you to fix him up. And from there the relationship blooms. When he comes and brings you gifts, clothes, jewelry, fine meat and confidentially you hear on the radio the same things being missing from tops stores but don’t make the connection. He’s a cheeky ring who would tease you about things, but he means well and even to you it’s obvious that he likes you. Sometimes he doesn’t even come to you all bloody or wound and saying things “you presence is my antidote”, and you hit him for saying something so cheesy. He’s worried for you, so he Build a phone in your apartment to be able to call you when he can’t see you. He’s brothers are always curious to know who was on the other end of the phone that got their tough of nails big brother to be giddy and giggling like a school girl. You don’t find out about his other world until you’re Married with 4 kids, and talking to him through a plastic screen in a maximum security prison 😂😂😂. Boyyyyyy was you mad. As naive you were, you always felt he kept some kind of secret from you. And decades later you didn’t out you were right :(

Love love love this! I've always liked the 'nurse' trope, it's even better when the reader isn't actually a medical professional and is just trying really hard to remember the first aid training they did five years ago. And you are just so gullible and naive and when he figures out you don't know he's a criminal, despite someone matching his exact description being wanted by the police over the radio, he makes up the most rushed, unthought-out lie imaginable. You're asking him how he got so banged up, cause on second thought you don't get a bullet stuck in you from falling over and he is just rushing out he's an undercover cop or just a bystander to a robbery gone wrong or something so dodgy anyone else would know straight away he's lying but you're just going 'ooohhhh that makes sense' and just believes him.

He stays with you for a few days and I love the idea he tries to help out with hard house chores, he tries to get up to move a big box you're struggling with but you get upset and force him to sit down telling him he's gonna pull his stitches and he needs to rest. I also really like the idea he stays wayyyy longer than needed. He probs could have left the day after, sure in pain and not fully healed but he could've, but he really liked you and loved that you were babying him, putting your hand on his head, fluffing pillows, tucking him into bed and making homemade meals, he wouldn't have had something this nice is so long so it makes him feel quite loved even if you hadn't fallen in love with him yet.

And he has to pretend to still be in pain even if he's practically healed, so let's say the reader goes to work and he uses this time to fix the leaky tap, move the heavy boxes, climb up into the manhole to put rat traps down, fixes the heater and the rusty locks on your door (he gets you even better locks and makes the house anti-break in proof), and then he hears you open the door so he rushes back into bed or onto the couch and acts all in pain and you come in to sook him and shower him in care and doesn't even notice you now have three deadlocks and the leaky tap is fixed.

When he finally leaves he doesn't allow himself the thought of coming back, you're too innocent and good for him. Until he gets hurt again and he doesn't even realise he's made his way back to your front door. And yes!!! From there he is always welcome and he even comes with fake injuries to see you, complaining about sore shoulders or a paper cut and the reader is just oblivious to the fact he is in love with you and treats him with such care even if the papercut is a day old and already nearly healed. YES!!!! GIFTS. He says its to pay back for all the care you've given him, you try to refuse him saying his friendship is enough, but then he starts leaving them inside your apartment when you are not home and you are just in such awe at the beautiful jewellery and the handwritten letter you don't even think about how its strange he doesn't have a key (that you know of) and yet he was able to put them on your kitchen bench. I think he would be very very protective as well, when he's not with you he is constantly worried, he knows how dangerous this city/town is, so when he has the time he'll watch you from afar, just to make sure you get home safe, I can just imagine him leaning up against a brick wall as he watches you across the street shopping or having coffee with friends.

The reader still doesn't know what he does, maybe he told you he was an undercover cop or he just made up a lie about being mugged, so you don't really know what his job is, although it has to be paying him well cause he's able to get you such beautiful things and he offers to pay your rent (which you allow after him pushing it for so long).

I think the reader would think they were just friends for quite a while until one day after he gets you the phone and you say you don't know how you would ever repay him, he just gets this look in his eyes and the next thing you know your on your knees while he sits on a chair with his hand in your hair and your lips round his cock. You thought he was joking when he asked for a blow job, so you have a giggle but then he's pushing it, saying how you need to repay him for all the gifts he brings you (you thought that fixing him up was the payment) in the end you've had a crush on him for a while and you do feel a little guilty that he buys you all this beautiful stuff that must cost him a fortune as well so you give in. Although you thought that maybe he would ask you on a date after or whatever, instead he's asking (telling ) you to move out and move into his place out in the suburbs. In his mind, you've been his girl since he caught feelings (like 5 minutes after meeting you) and this is just you guys getting serious rather than the beginning of a relationship. You still just think of your friends (with benefits) after you have moved in until he introduces you as his girlfriend and suddenly you are like fuck are we dating??? for how long???? did I miss the start of it???? and your just standing there trying to figure out when you started dating (to him it was when you watched a movie with him and fell asleep on his shoulder - that was day 2 of him in the house), in the end, you are just relieved he likes you and go along with it.

Love tough as nails men just being lovestruck and big softies. Its even better if he introduces you to his brothers and suddenly his brothers are the nicest people you've ever met, they're funny, they are polite, they give you compliments and he's just standing in the corner arms crossed with a frown on his face as he watches his brothers fawn over you. He gets a bit jealous. But then while his brothers are sleeping in the guest rooms, he's fucking you rough and hard, demanding you scream out his name. You of course are oblivious to his jealousy so you don't realise he's reinforcing his claim over you to his brothers. He smirks when he sees his brothers can't look him or you in the eyes at breakfast.

That would break the reader's heart!!! All these years and he's been lying to her. I think you would think that he thought he could get away with not telling you because he thinks you are stupid or dumb (you aren't your just not the most observant), you feel as though he has been taking advantage of you all these years and I can totally see reader bursting into tears when she is sitting in front of the plastic screen holding the phones asking him why he didn't tell her or saying how much of a fool she was, how she should have known that he was too good to be true. He tries so hard to comfort you, but the damage has been done and you're rushing out with your youngest in your arms (the other three were left with the grandparents, you didn't want them to see him like that). Now I'm angsty :( I think it would be really really angsty if you thought he was having an affair, all the late nights and strange text messages to meet at hotels and all the gifts are starting to be given as guilt/apology gifts for missing things like date nights or your kids' parent-teacher conferences, and I think it would be heartbreaking if the reader tells him while he's behind bars that she would have prefered him to be cheating than him being a criminal :(

Anyway! Love your work!!

Lots of love mae xx

#oc fugitive #yandere x reader #yandere #oc #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere prompts #female reader #mae answers #autumn :)

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ericspinkhair · 4 years ago

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unexpectedly becoming a sugar baby

pairing: ceo!sunwoo x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

synopsis: reader is desperate for money so she has sex with her boss

warnings: lots of oral and fingering, use of vibrator in public , office sex, sex for money

a/n: wrote this yesterday instead of studying for my final. the exam went well tho :) also please send in requests!!!

masterlist + requests

to say you were desperate would be an understatement. today you had received an eviction notice that stated that you had exactly 30 days to either pay back all the money you owed your landlord or leave your apartment.

due to your mother's illness you had to pay for all her medical bills. your father hadn't been in the picture for a long time so you alone were responsible for your mother's health. you couldn't just let her die. but because of all these costs you hadn't been able to pay your rent and now you were on the verge of homelessness.

never in a lifetime did you imagine that you would be begging someone for help. you felt so helpless that you honestly didn't really care how you got the money.

you decided to ask your boss for a raise and were prepared to work your ass off in order to get it.

mr. kim's office was on the fourth floor of the company, one you barely had ever been to. normal employees were usually only to be found on the lower floors so taking the elevator up felt wrong.

you were determined, however, to not let your pride get in the way. the money was more important than how you felt.

you knocked on the door twice. as if to make you feel even more nervous, it seemed like mr. kim waited extra long to respond.

when you entered he was sitting behind his desk. he didn't even look up at you so you just stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do.

'why don't you just sit?' he finally asked annoyed and closed his laptop.

you quickly took a seat and tried to put up a professional front.

'what can I do for you, um…' 'y/n,' you helped him out. 'right, y/n. what can I do for you?' he asked.

'I would like to ask for a raise, sir. you see, I am usually the first employee to enter the building and also most of the time the last one to leave. I do my work reliably and deliver solid results. my coworkers are pleased with me and we also get along well. I think I contribute a lot to this company and wanted to ask whether it would be possible to raise my pay.' you really tried to not make it seem like you had simply memorized all of this and forced yourself to speak slowly but firmly while looking him in the eyes.

mr. kim didn't respond at first but opened his laptop.

'to my understanding you have been working here for a very long time already. your pay is already the highest it can get. there is no way for me to raise it because there is no room for improvement.' he sighed and waited for your reaction.

you started sweating. this wasn't going as planned. you hadn't known that you were already receiving the highest pay. you were barely able to afford food with your current money.

'please, sir. I will do anything you ask of me. I don't care how many extra hours I'd have to work. I can do it. I promise. please give me a chance,' you begged him.

he was intrigued by you. why were you so desperate for the money?

'first, why don't you tell me why you are so keen on a raise?'

was your boss even allowed to ask you such personal questions? you answered anyway.

'my mother has cancer. I am the only person paying for her medical expenses and the treatments are all very expensive. I am about to get evicted because I cannot pay my rent.'

he seemed to be deep in thought. his gaze on you was intense.

your heart skipped a beat when he placed his hand on yours.

'y/n, I'm extremely sorry that you have to deal with all of this. I wouldn't want anyone to have to experience the same thing. believe me when I tell you that I want to help you. you know what? come back tomorrow. I have an idea how I might be able to help but I need to think about it further. would that be alright for you?'

it felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. you didn't care about what you had to do. you stood up, bowed deeply and thanked him over and over.

he let out a deep chuckle. you were cute.

the next day you came back again in the afternoon. this time he answered the door quicker and his attention was focused on you from the start. the energy felt much different than the day before. he seemed excited and was smiling at you. this had to mean good news, right? he shook your hand and pressed firmly while looking you deep in the eyes.

'y/n, I came up with an idea to help you. but it is less conventional and it depends on how much you are willing to do.'

'mr. kim, I will do anything,' you assured him. the smirk he flashed you threw you off guard.

'okay then. first, I'd prefer it if you called me sunwoo as we'll be seeing more of each other if you were to agree.'

this lowkey felt like crossing some boundaries but you wanted to please him.

you nodded eagerly. 'okay, sunwoo it is.'

'so my idea is that there are certain things you can do to earn money. I will pay for everything with my own savings and you will receive it in cash. we will start off easy and over time I'll add new tasks. of course, you have the freedom to choose whether you want to do them or not. that is completely up to you.'

the look of confusion on your face must have told him you didn't fully understand.

'it's hard to explain. I'd rather you figure it out by trying it. since today is friday, the task I'll give you is for monday. I would like to choose an outfit for you. I'll send it to your apartment and you have to wear exactly what is inside the box. if you were to do this I'd give you $20 cash.'

that was a weird request. why would he want to decide what you were wearing? did he not like your outfit? did you look disgusting?

'let me get this straight. you pick an outfit for me and if I decide to wear it I get money?' you ask him to see if you had understood correctly.

'exactly. that doesn't seem so bad, right?' you shook your head. it was whatever.

'that's great. you'll receive your outfit and I can't wait to see you in it on monday.' you didn't know if you were imagining it but it seemed like he was eyeing your body. h god, he definitely didn't like what you were wearing.

$20 wasn't much but still more than nothing. and apparently the other tasks would be worth more. guess you had to start somewhere. with the money you could at least afford something to eat.

you say goodbye and continued with work until it was time to leave.

you waited anxiously all weekend for the clothes. sunday you decided to go for a walk and when you opened your door you almost tripped over a package.

on monday morning you tried on the outfit sunwoo had picked out for you.

the white blouse was a bit see through and a bit too tight around the boob area but looked neat otherwise. the black skirt hugged your curves perfectly and made you look quite sexy in your opinion. he even picked out a bra, underwear, stockings and high heels for you. the note he had left clearly stated to wear exactly and only what was in the box. so you did.

you usually wore something more simple and loose but you didn't feel too uncomfortable in this look.

when you entered his office his eyes lit up.

'I'm glad you wore this. it looks very good on you.'

you were sure you blushed a bit at his words. you weren't really used to receiving compliments from men.

'I like it too,' you admit. sunwoo smiled contentedly.

'so would you like to do the same tomorrow? I'll send you another outfit,' he asked you.

this one wasn't bad at all so you agreed. he handed you $20. when you stood up and walked out the door he couldn't stop admiring the way your butt looked in the skirt. tomorrow was going to be even better.

the blouse was almost the same one. however, this time the skirt was a lot shorter. it ended at the middle of your thighs. but that wasn't even the weirdest thing. this time he had forgotten to send you panties.

you felt very unsure what to do. the note clearly stated to only wear what was in the box.

you sighed and pulled down the skirt as much as you could. this would have to do. as long as you were just sitting, everything would be fine.

you went about your day and some time in the afternoon you were called into sunwoo's office.

you were wondering whether or not to tell him about the missing underwear but decided to keep your mouth closed. panties didn't seem to be a topic to talk about with your boss.

'today, I want to offer you an additional task. you will receive your $20 dollars for sure and you can make another 30 by cleaning my office. what do you think?' he proposed to you.

that would be $50 in total. you needed all the money you could get.

'of course. just tell me what to clean and I will be happy to help.'

everything was going according to sunwoo's plan. he was excited and told you you could start by dusting the shelves.

your eagerness was cute and he watched you out of the corner of his eyes.

some of the shelves were higher up so you had to stretch to be able to reach them. when you did your skirt rolled up higher and he was able to see the just the outline of your butt cheeks. he unconsciously licked his lips.

for the rest of the week you continued these two tasks. but you noticed that the underwear kept on missing and the skirts also progressively became shorter.

this was a struggle when you were cleaning and organizing his office. you were aware of your skirt rolling up and you were hoping that sunwoo wouldn't notice.

of course he did. that had been his intention all along. when you bent down he could sometimes get a glance at your pretty pussy. he couldn't help but get hard at the sight of this and palmed his bulge through his pants.

in one week you had received $220. you would have been more happy if you hadn't gotten another bill from the hospital asking you for another $1200. the health care system was simply fucked up. whatever the next tasks were, you had to do them.

on monday you were cleaning his office again. you wanted to pick up some files but you struggled reaching them from the highest shelf. you felt your skirt roll up again.

'wait. I'll help you,' sunwoo announced and walked over.

you gasped as you felt something hard poke your thigh as he stood behind you to reach for the files. when he took a step back you saw the clear outlines of his hardened cock.

unable to hide your surprise, sunwoo laughed.

'this is all your doing.' so he did notice your skirt roll up. wait. had he given you these clothes with this in mind?

'do you want to touch it?' he asked.

you just blinked at him. what? were you perhaps still dreaming? it was possible that you were having a wet dream about your boss. sunwoo was very handsome and you had to be blind not to notice.

'if you help me get rid of it, I'll promise you $100.' he knew you were thinking hard. you couldn't keep your eyes off his bulge, clearly not sure what to think of this.

this was against all the work protocols but you would kid yourself if you said that you didn't want to. not only was he very attractive but you'd do a lot for a mere $100.

you reached for his belt. sunwoo smirked; he had won.

you pulled his pants down and were immediately greeted with his veiny cock.

'you aren't the only one not wearing any underwear, my dear y/n.'

so that had been intentional. interesting. you realized you must have been very naive to have believed that he had simply forgotten to put panties in the boxes.

you started by rubbing the tip softly with your thumb. it was pretty and pink and already leakined pre-cum.

you felt strangely good about having this kind of effect on someone. with a few pumps his dick was completely hard.

sunwoo propped his hands on the desk behind him and leaned back in bliss.

deep moans were escaping his beautifully luscious lips while you were pleasuring him with your hands.

you decided to put your left hand you use as well by massaging his balls.

'fuck! when did you learn to do this so well?' sunwoo groaned.

during high school you had had a lot of sex. it made you feel good and you enjoyed it. now your experience turned out to be lifesaving to you. well, he'd probably pay you even if you weren't as mind blowing.

'hmm, practice,' you simply state.

'if this is already so good I wonder what your mouth can do, baby girl.' being called that aroused you way more than expected. this was so exciting.

'I'll give you another $100 if you suck me off.'

before sunwoo knew it you had already wrapped your lips around his cock. you skillfully bobbed your head up and down. when you looked up at him with big eyes he swore he was about to explode.

with most of the dick in your mouth your other hand was continuing to knead his balls.

he was coming close quickly and grabbed your hair so you would stay still.

he proceeded to fuck your mouth harshly. you felt spit running down the sides of your lips and tears escaping your eyes as he buried his cock deep in your mouth. you tried to relax in order to deep-throat him properly.

he came hard and emptied his load in your mouth. to prove a point, you swallowed it and then opened up to show him.

panting hard he said: 'fuck you're just amazing!'

you looked absolutely delicious with your face full of cum. he had a good feeling you were the right person to do this with.

you licked off some of the white liquid from your lips and smirked at him.

this was definitely not what you had expected what you would be doing but you weren't one to complain.

sunwoo quickly disappeared to search for some paper towels to clean your face. his employees couldn't see you like this.

after your face was clean again he handed you $250. 'you deserve it.' 'thanks.'

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and leaned closer. 'maybe we can do more tomorrow.' ooh, sounds exciting.

'then I'll look forward to seeing you.' with a wink you left.

you wondered how much money you would get for some sexy time with your boss.

the next morning, you couldn't fully button up the blouse he had sent you. the top buttons had to be left open and a lot of cleavage was visible. this horndog!

this time you actually received some underwear but only for a special reason. you found a pink mini vibrator in the box as well.

so you were walking around with a vibrating stick up your pussy. you didn't want to come in front of your co-workers so you turned it off whenever you got too close and waited to calm down.

'did you have fun today?' was the first thing sunwoo said to you.

you laughed ironically. 'I had so much fun pretending I wasn't being masturbating in front of everyone…'

he made you turn around and lifted up your skirt. the outline of the vibrator was visible and he could see your panties shaking.

with one quick move he pulled your underwear down and took the vibrator to turn it off. it came out with a wet plop and juices were running down your thighs.

sunwoo surprised you by sucking on the wet vibrator.

'sit on the desk,' he commanded you.

you did as you were told and sunwoo spread your legs wide apart.

he inserted his index and middle finger which slipped in with ease. your pussy made wet noises as he pushed them in and out of you.

finally having privacy you allowed yourself to make sounds. he made intense eye contact while fingering you, loving the way your face was scrunched up in pleasure.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and started kissing him. his tongue easily won the fight over dominance and started exploring your mouth.

you two were basically just sucking each others faces off until he broke off the kiss and lowered his body. he attached his mouth to your clit and started sucking. you pulled at his hair in pleasure and had a hard time controlling your breathing. damn, he was skilled at this as well.

when he felt you clenching around his fingers he withdrew them and you let out a disappointed noise of protest.

'don't worry. you'll have more soon.', he laughed at you. he quickly took off his pants and pulled you off the desk. he turned you around so your ass was facing him.

he started rubbing his thick cock between your ass cheeks and coated it in your juices. every time he got into contact with your tense pussy a shudder overcame your body.

he lifted your leg and placed your foot on the table. the angle from when he thrusted into you from behind was just perfect.

sunwoo attached his lips onto your neck and started leaving hickeys there. at the same time he was kneading your breast through your shirt.

he had barely ever felt such a perfect pussy around his cock. the way you took him in seemed too good to be true.

while his dick was still inside you, he lifted you up and placed you on all fours on the floor.

he grabbed your hips so tightly that he left red marks on them. at this point, he was just uncontrollably slamming into you while you were losing your mind. you were screaming his name loudly, glad that you knew no one could hear you.

as you could feel both of you getting close, he pulled your upper body up to his chest and wrapped one hand around your neck.

the pressure he applied was just enough for you to see stars but not enough for it to be unpleasant.

the lack of oxygen stimulated your senses even more and while repeatedly screaming out sunwoo's name you finally came hard on his dick.

with a few more thrusts, sunwoo's hips started stuttering as well and he shot his load into you. while riding out your highs he was just fucking his cum right back into you.

when he finally pulled out, a pool of his semen started dripping out of you. you suddenly felt so empty. his thick cock had filled you up so good that you were already missing it.

while you were still catching your breath on the floor, sunwoo had gone to get paper towels.

when he came back, however, he seemed hectic.

'I'm so sorry. there has been an emergency and I need to leave right now. I'll leave these here as well as the money.' he placed everything on the desk and walked back to the door.

he turned around one last time. 'I hope we can do this again.' he smiled at you.

you later saw that he had left you $750.

kind of becoming a sugar baby had never been your plan but you didn't mind it. if only the circumstances had been better.

#kim sunwoo smut #kim sunwoo scenario #the boyz smut #the boyz scenario #the boyz sunwoo smut #the boyz sunwoo scenario #kim sunwoo #smut #kpop smut #the boyz

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sameheart-sameblood · 3 years ago

Text

Live While We’re Alive

(gif by @rex-is-best)

pairing: commander wolffe x f!reader

summary: you thought being a newly recruited civilian doctor to the GAR was hard enough until you developed a hopeless crush on Commander Wolffe

words: 2.8 k

warnings: mature, some suggestive talk, mutual pining, medical exams, co-workers to lovers, a doctor having inappropriate thoughts about their patient

a/n: I started writing this awhile ago and then lost all creative motivation but I've been in a Wolffe mood the past few days and sad we didn't get to see him in The Bad Batch so here we are. I'd like to apologize to my doctor dad and all medical professionals everywhere lol. Also, I had intended for this to end in smut but then got lost in feelings so there mayyyy be a chapter 2. We'll see ;)

read on ao3!

You want to fuck him. It’s been decided. This realization couldn’t have come at a worse time, though. You’re surrounded by Jedi and Clone Officers in a very important meeting detailing your next mission. But you only have eyes for one of the men and he’s currently standing at the head of the room giving a briefing to the holo of Master Yoda. It’s a testament to Commander Wolffe’s presence that you barely notice the little green Jedi Master he’s conversing with. Well, his presence and his extreme handsomeness.

When you’d first met him, you’d been truly intimidated. The other women you worked with nodded in understanding, whispering they had been thrown off by his cybernetic eye and prominent scar. But that wasn’t it. You’d noticed those things, but that wasn’t what made you uneasy.

It was the fact that he took one look at you and seemed to see right into your soul. You couldn’t explain it but you felt like with just a glance, he could tell your deepest insecurities. And stars, did you have a lot of those.

You had worked your way up through the medical field and had started your residency at the biggest hospital in Coruscant. After your training ended, you had secured a permanent job there. It had been difficult, to say the least. Though you knew you were qualified, even more so than most of your male co-workers, you still doubted yourself often.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had come to visit you one nondescript Thursday afternoon, telling you of the need for doctors in the GAR. He said you came most highly recommended when he was searching for recruits but still, you thought a mistake had been made and that someone soon would realize and send you back to your normal life. It was a recurring nightmare you’d developed in the past few weeks that shook you from your sleep.

You had agreed to join the GAR, sympathetic to the cause and wanting to do your part. The next few weeks had consisted of you getting your bearings and meeting the rest of the staff at the base . Kix, the clone medic in charge, had helped you learn the ropes and had introduced you to all his brothers. At first, you had been overwhelmed by the sea of identical faces. As the weeks had gone on, you’d learned everyone’s names and they’d made you feel welcome, like one of their own.

The Commander and you had crossed paths several times. He was polite but distant. Not like you blamed him. He had more important things to do than exchange drawn out pleasantries. With each run-in, though, he seemed to be making more of an effort to be personable. Unfortunately, each conversation left you looking more and more like an idiot. Or a di’kut. The boys had been teaching you some Mando’a.

You were a medical professional, a well-respected doctor and yet Wolffe made you feel unsure of yourself. It had been so long since you’d had a crush that you didn’t realize this was what the beginning of one felt like.

*******

As you sit around the war room table, you feel even more like a school girl. Instead of paying attention to whatever Master Yoda is saying, you’re transfixed by Wolffe’s face. The hazy blue light from the holo reflects off his features, making him look ethereal. His scar looks even more prominent and you blush, remembering how often you’ve wondered what it would feel like to let your fingers trace it. And his lips. They’re moving, responding to whatever the Jedi has said. They’re mesmerizing and now you’re thinking of what it would be like to kiss him. Or even better yet, to have those lips pressed against the plushier parts of your body.

You continue to stare until you realize his face has turned to you. It probably only takes you a second to come back to reality but it feels like an eternity. Somehow you’re able to respond to the question.

“Yes, Commander. All medical personnel are prepared for an 0800 liftoff. Kix will take his team with the 501st and I’ll have my staff along with the 104th. We’ll reconnoiter once we’ve landed on Hisseen.” The rest of the table nods, moving the conversation along. Wolffe stares at you for a moment, a hint of a smirk on his lips. You avert your gaze, finding the table a much safer object of your attention.

The discussion wraps up and Wolffe stands at attention, puffing his chest out, before Master Yoda disappears. Once again, your eyes are drawn to him. You’re not sure how but he makes something so mundane look indescribably attractive. Wolffe’s head turns in your direction but you’ve already bolted from your seat, hoping to cool down in the hallway.

Kix pushes through the crowd to get to you. “Hey, Doc. How’d the meeting go?” You shrug. “Nothing new to report. Just making sure we’re all set for our campaign.” He’s shifting back and forth, a sort of glazed look in his eyes. You realize he’s not paying particularly close attention. It’s the look of someone asking you something just so they can request a favor in return.

“Hmm oh yeah, that’s nice. Say, Doc, do you think you could cover for me for a few hours? I have some urgent business to attend to.”

“Since when is playing Sabacc with Fives and the boys urgent?”

“Since I remembered how terrible they are at it. I can make a real killing playing against them.”

You laugh. It’s true. You’ve come to love those men but a lot of them are really horrible at the game. You’ll need to give them a remedial course if you have any downtime on Hisseen. “Of course. What do you need me to do?” He rewards you with a huge grin. “Nothing hard! A few higher ups coming in for their physicals. Just the usual. Make sure they’re in tip top shape to get shot at by some tinnies.”

He gives you the list. It’s only a handful of men but the last one on it makes your blood go cold. “Commander Wolffe needs a physical?” Kix is oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Oh yeah, but he knows the drill. Honestly everyone can do it themselves at this point. We’re basically there to oversee it as a formality.”

You swallow down your apprehension and nod. “Sounds easy enough. Go have fun. And take it easy on them, will ya? Let them keep a little of their dignity intact” Kix just grins and shoots you a wave as he runs off.

*******

Your first few appointments go just fine. The officers are professionals and Kix was right, they could do these routine physicals with their eyes closed. You give them all your seal of approval and settle in to do your paperwork before your last, most anticipated patient arrives. The forms in front of you hold no interest and you find yourself checking the chrono every few seconds.

It’s not easy but you manage to finish your work. You set it aside and take steadying breath. Five more minutes and he’ll be here. You scold yourself. The Commander has never been anything but professional. You’re the one thinking these very unprofessional thoughts.

And you’re a doctor, for kriff’s sake. Your patients should be able to come to you without worrying you may be fantasizing about what they look like naked. But these are uncharted waters. It’s your first time having to deal with a patient you’re this attracted to. They really should take your medical license away.

Just as you’re thinking of packing it all up and handing in your resignation to the Jedi Council, a knock at the door snaps you to attention. Well, here goes nothing. You scold yourself once again for checking your reflection in the mirror before answering the door.

You had tried to adopt a passive, professional look to your face before greeting Wolffe but it must not have worked. “Everything alright, Doc? I’m not early, am I?” You shake your head.“Not at all. Punctual as always, Commander.” You beckon for him to come in and take a seat. You close the door, then sit across from him at your desk.

Your datapad hums to life and you busy yourself opening the appropriate forms you need to fill out. The weight of his eyes is heavy on you and your cheeks heat up in spite of yourself. You push on through as best you can.

“Well, Commander, how are you feeling today?” There’s that ghost of a smirk again but it vanishes so quickly you're not sure if you imagined it. “I feel like a million credits.” You giggle despite it not even being that funny. You’ve got it bad. “Glad to hear it. This should be quick then.” You gather your equipment and get to work.

First, you take his weight. Then, you listen to his heart. You press the stethoscope to his sternum, thankful you can do this over his blacks. He observes you the whole time. “And what about you? How are you today, Doc?” You risk a glance and meet his eyes. That was a mistake.

“Me? Oh-um just fine. Maybe not like a million credits but a few hundred at least.” You trail off dumbly but he humors you with a chuckle. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard that sound from him before. It’s like music to your ears. “Anything I can do to help? You do look a little flushed. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” You avert your eyes again.

“No. I’m alright. It’s just, uh, hot in these uniforms. The coarseweave doesn’t breathe.”

“You sure? Maybe I should be the one giving you a check-up.”

You realize he’s toying with you now.

“That won’t be necessary, Commander.”

You move on to check his lungs. “Breathe in for me.” You move the stethoscope to his chest, then move it around a few different spots on his back. “You can call me, Wolffe. If you’d like.” He breathes in every time, not even needing prompting, ever the dutiful soldier, even when he’s teasing you.

“I would like that. Thank you, Wolffe.”

Next, you measure his blood pressure. You’re shocked that it’s so low. He sees the look of surprise on your face. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all. The opposite, in fact. Your pressures are great. I just thought with your lifestyle they might, understandably, be a bit higher.”

“What kind of lifestyle do you think I have?”

You’re backtracking as quickly as you can. “I just meant, your life as a soldier, it must be extremely stressful.”

There’s that smirk again. “It is. But you don’t get to be a Commander by not being able to handle the pressure.”

“Of course. But even so, if you’d like some stress relief techniques I can suggest some.” He hums as if really thinking it over. Thankfully there’s only one part of your exam left. Which is good because you’re not sure how much resolve you have remaining.

“Everything looks great. I’ll just do a head and neck exam and then I can send you on your way.”

You need to touch him for this part but you stop yourself, hands hovering but not quite meeting their destination. You feel like once you touch him, really feel his skin under your fingers, there may be no going back.

Wolffe sees your hesitation, then slowly reaches out to take your hands. You watch with wide eyes as he guides them to his neck. He looks up at you innocently enough but you can tell he’s laughing internally. You try to reign in control of the situation.

“Sorry, I just got distracted.” The Commander studies you but this time it’s in earnest. “Are you nervous? This’ll be your first time in an active war zone, right?” You had been anxious but not about that. But now that he mentions it, yeah, you honestly don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Yes, I’m not sure what to expect. I guess you could say I’m a little scared.” Wolffe gently holds your chin, directing you to look back at him. “I won’t lie. It’ll be overwhelming and frightening. Battles can seem never-ending. But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You’re staring into each other’s eyes and you don’t want to stop. But then he’s clearing his throat and gently removing his hand from your skin. You realize you’ve been resting your own hands on his shoulders this whole time. “Thank you, Wolffe. I do feel much better knowing you’ll be there.” You offer him a smile, hoping it conveys just how much you appreciate him looking out for you.

You begin your exam, gently kneading where his neck meets his shoulders, checking for any anomalies. Then you move to his throat. The throat you’ve so often been distracted by. It’s featured prominently in your daydreams. You move your hands along it, under his jawline. Having a man this powerful baring one of the most vulnerable parts of his body to you is intoxicating. Focus, di’kut.

Everything feels normal except for some knots you find resting right below the surface of his smooth skin. “Lymph nodes feel good. You’re a little tense, though. But I bet it’s from that bucket you have to wear most of the day.” He hums in thought. “True. But even so. Maybe you could give me some of those ideas for stress management?” He looks up at you with big eyes. There’s mischief in them but something else. Vulnerability?

You gulp audibly. “Of course. There are a few that work particularly well, um, like deep breathing techniques, going on walks, talking with friends, meditation, journaling, physical activity…” You’re rambling, fighting a losing game against your resolve. Wolffe thinks on it. “Physical activity seems like a good place to start.” His hands come up to gently cover yours that are still resting on his neck.

The sensation of his calloused fingers on your skin sends shivers down your body. You close your eyes, feeling the last of your self-control topple over. “Wolffe,” you whine “We shouldn’t…” He immediately drops his hands, worry etched on his face. “I’m so sorry. It’s just- I thought you wanted-.” He cuts himself off, snapping up to his feet and to attention. “Doctor, you should report me to General Plo Koon for immediate disciplinary action.”

Dank Farrik, you’ve just ruined everything.“Wolffe! No, I’m not reporting you to anyone. If anything you should report me for being so unprofessional.” His shoulders relax a bit but he still eyes you as if you’re a live grenade that might explode at any second. “What do you mean?” You sigh in frustration. This isn’t how you wanted to confess your feelings to him.

“I…want you, Wolffe. The second I realized that I should have asked to be re-assigned to a different battalion. Instead I thought I could push those feelings down and continue to do my job. Looks like that was a mistake.” You hang your head, avoiding his piercing gaze. He’s silent for just a moment but it feels like an eternity.

“So, you want me and I want you?” You nod your head, ashamed, as he continues. “Then what’s the problem, Doc?” Your eyes snap to his, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Isn’t it wrong of us?”

Wolffe sits down on the exam table again, genuinely thinking on it. “I don’t see why. We’re both consenting adults. We don’t work directly with each other- I report to General Koon, you report to General Kenobi- so there’s no real conflict of interest. The worst we’ll face is a little ribbing from the boys if they find out.”

You raise your head to look him in the eyes, needing to make sure he’s serious and that this isn’t some twisted joke. What you find staring back at you is hope and promise. He senses your trepidation and gently takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry if I came on strong. But the thing about this life is that there are no guarantees. Tomorrow isn’t promised and so I figured I’d rather go for something, someone, that I want and have my heart broken rather than regretting my inaction.”

Your eyes roam the scars on his face, evidence of just how true his words are. You’re heading into active battle tomorrow. One or both of you could be injured, or worse. You step towards him. He spreads his legs so you have room to get closer. You rest your forehead on his, breathing him in.

His hands come up to caress your sides. You take a shaky breath. He questions you softly. “Cyar’ika?” Ah, now that’s one of the new words you definitely remember. His vulnerability makes you ache and the decision to hand your heart over is an easy one. “You’re right, Wolffe. Might as well do some living while we can.”

*******

#commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x reader #instead of becoming a doctor like my family wanted i decided to just write about being one who's slightly inappropriate instead #tcw fanfic #tcw #allie writes #my writing

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edna-skiffens · 4 years ago

Text

The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

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wondersofdreaming · 4 years ago

Text

Sex on Fire

Co-written with @radaofrivia

Characters: AU Captain Syverson - Gynaecologist, dr. Syverson x female reader

Word count: 4.522

Warnings: NSFW! Smut, so smutty. Gamahuche. Licking. Bodily liquids. Fingering. Sucking. Hair pulling. Begging. And I’m out of whatever else there is, but I’m sure there’s more - let me know and I’ll add them XD

Author’s note: This story was co-written with the always gorgeous and incredible @radaofrivia! She is the Brain to my Pinky! The Barney Rubble to my Fred Flinstone! My goddess Saga and my muse Erato! My drinking buddy and who will stay up till 4am with me to finish this story.

Please go enjoy her stories here:

Rada’s Masterlist

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

*Edit: The title was decided before I realised that it is a song by Kings of Leon. These two have nothing in common except for the title.

MY MASTERLIST

Sex on Fire Masterlist

Feedback is appreciated.

(Credit to original gif owner - if this is yours please contact me so I can give you proper credit)

The grey concrete building stood tall in front of you. You leaned your head back to see the top, but it was nearly impossible. All you could see were windows leading into the sky. A doorman in a black uniform stood by the entrance, watching whoever went in and out. He nodded his head with a stoic look in a greeting.

The lobby looked more welcoming than the outside building. There was a fireplace with three sofas surrounding it and a coffee table stacked with magazines. A few women were already sitting there, gossiping about the new dapper doctor that had rented the entire top floor.

You rolled your eyes and went over to the reception. A man stood to greet you with a smile, but he was talking to someone in his headset, which only took a few seconds before he hung up.

“I am sorry about that, how may I help you, miss?” he asked.

“I’m here for an appointment with dr. Syverson,” you said a little nervously.

“Ah, yes. I have a form you need to fill out,” he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, “The elevators are just right over there. Take it all the way to the 52nd floor. Another receptionist will be there to guide you further.”

You accepted the paper and went for the elevators. A chill went down your spine as the cold air from the air condition hit you. You pressed the button for dr. Syverson’s floor. An orchestral song started playing over the speakers. It wasn’t until you listened closely to the lyrics that you noticed it was ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica.

You closed your eyes, swaying to the beat of the soft drums. Lars Ulrich had been your celebrity crush as a teen, and you still listened to their older songs when you had a bad day.

The elevator doors opened with a loud ‘ding!’, pulling you out of your trance. Another receptionist stood at the opposite side. She looked up from the computer and smiled.

“Welcome to dr. Syverson’s clinic. Do you need help filling out the paper?” she asked nicely. You quickly scanned what you needed to scribble down. It was mostly your personal information and history of health.

“No, I think I can manage, thank you,” you smiled back.

“You can take a seat in the sofas, and when you’re done just fold it and put it in the mailbox, dr. Syverson will call you in, shortly,” she motioned to a black mailbox by the elevators that you had missed when walking past it.

You nodded and went for the sofas. The room was warm and comfortable with green plants everywhere. The sand-coloured leather sofas were softer than you expected as you sank down. You filled out the form and put it in the box.

Instead of sitting back down, you decided to walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and take a look at the impressive view of the city. Your eyes widened at how far you could see, all the way to the ocean, and if you squinted your eyes, you might have been able to see your apartment building, even the bar you had often been frequenting lately.

Dr. Syverson walked out of his office. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling a bit sore from having sat down reading his patients’ charts all afternoon. Now he just needed to check on his last appointment, before he could go home and enjoy an ice-cold beer.

His receptionist was packing her stuff, sending him a kind smile. The perks of working with his sister were that she didn’t try to seduce him, or leave her underwear in his white coat pocket like some of his patients tended to do.

He smiled back and looked around the room. His gaze landing on you. His first thoughts were not ‘oh there’s my patient’, no, his mind went straight to ‘YOWZA!’.

“Last patient for today, Luc. I’ll be leaving now, see you tomorrow,” he heard his sister say to him. She smacked his arm to get his attention. He was pulled back to reality, saying goodbye to her before walking towards you, changing his mindset from dirty to professional.

You gasped when a flock of seagulls flew by, making you take a step back and hit a wall. Except the wall had arms that grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor.

“Whoah, careful there, miss,” a deep rough voice said. You looked up and saw a man with a trimmed beard, a soft smile on his lips, and a mischievous look in his cerulean eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out. You quickly remove yourself from his arms, first now noticing that he was wearing the white coat signalling he was dr. Syverson. And if that didn’t kick your brain in gear, then the name tag on his chest should do it. Dr. Lucas P. Syverson.

“It’s all good. This way, please,” he made sure you followed him to his office. The wall colour changed to a more soothing beige colour and was adorned with colourful paintings. You didn’t notice what they depicted before you stepped closer to one. It was of naked human bodies in various forms and shapes, very fitting for a gynaecologist’s office.

He had various books about his profession, but a few stood out to you. One had a peach on the cover and was written by dr. Syverson himself. You were impressed but wondered about the peach until you saw the title that made you blush deeply.

“How to eat a peach for dummies.”

He motioned for you to sit in the armchair, while he plopped down on the opposite one. He grabbed a chart from his desk and a pen.

“I’ve had a look at your medical history, and the…” Dr. Syverson looked down on the chart, “three gynaecologists that you have been referred to have written that you are in a state of good health. Well, we’ll see about that, I’m not too keen on some of these doctors you’ve had appointments with. They’re as old as Methuselah.”

You let out a peal of laughter. The joke having put you at ease with the doctor, who was smiling as you calmed down from your fit of giggles.

You were a little bit shocked by this doctor. Dr. Syverson was nothing like how you had imagined him. He couldn’t be over 40, with the extended educational schooling he would have had to go through. You remembered having read somewhere that it took at least 12 years to become a gynaecologist.

“Oh my gosh, they were. Another thing they had in common was that they would take a “quick” peek, not caring that I was screaming in pain, and then tell me that I’m healthy as a horse.”

Dr. Syverson sat back; his brow pushed together. You could practically hear the gears turning behind his forehead. He ran a hand through his beard, which made you notice that he wasn’t wearing a ring. If he wasn’t your doctor, you might have asked him on a date. Had you only met him at a bar instead of his office, and not being his patient. Damn it.

“There is definitely an issue we need to figure out here. I want you to know, miss that I plan on solving this mystery. Please, tell me in your own words what you think is wrong?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but all the sentences you thought of were too embarrassing to say out loud.

“Miss, you can say anything here. Nothing leaves these four walls, I promise you,” dr. Syverson tried to make you feel more comfortable with him with his gorgeous smile. His presence alone was putting you at ease. How did he do it?

“It burns when I’m penetrated,” you confessed.

“Penetrated how? During intercourse or masturbation?”

“I haven’t had sex since this happened. I can barely stuff two fingers in there,” you blurted, turning tomato red, confessing something so private to a total stranger, but it felt great to finally say it out loud, like a heavy stone being lifted from your shoulders.

“How about I take a look? Let me see with my own eyes that you’re ‘healthy as a horse’,” he quoted the old men, making you giggle. “You can leave your trousers and underwear on the bench, and have a seat on the table. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The dashing doctor left the room while you removed your clothing. Feeling a little self-conscious, as you walked over to the gynaecologist table with the stirrups and sat between them, trying to cover your private parts with your shirt.

Dr. Syverson came back soon with a variety of scented candles in his arms.

“The smell of something nice usually helps my patients to relax a little,” he explained. He held them up for you to choose.

“This one,” you smiled and handed him the one called Ocean Mist.

“Nice choice, that one is my favourite,” the doctor grinned. He set the lit candle on his desk. The scent of a sandy beach and salty ocean soon filled the room. The doctor pulled the ultrasound machine towards you. You leaned back on the table inhaling deeply, willing your abdominal muscles to relax. The sounds of a guitar reached your ears. You watched as he set a portable speaker on the small table next to you.

“I hope you don’t mind a little music,” he said, smiling, while he put on a pair of bright orange gloves.

“I love Metallica, so please keep it flowing.”

“Can you guess the song I’m playing? Put your legs up here for me,” he patted the stirrups.

You lifted your legs, intensely listening to the instrumental version of the song.

“Is it ‘The Unforgiven’?” you asked.

“Correct, you’re good. This is going to be a little bit cold,” he squirted a large amount of gel on the ultrasound wand. He slowly inserted the rod inside you, pushing ever so gently. “How long have you listened to Metallica?”

You winced at the invasion but tried to keep your muscles from tightening around the smooth object. You didn’t see the set jaw on the gorgeous looking doctor. Your sweet scent was tickling his nose and making his mouth salivate by the thought of tasting you.

“Since I was a teenager. I’ve been to at least one concert per tour they’ve done,” you groaned in pain.

“I’m sorry, your right ovary is a little difficult to find. You’re doing great. Your left ovary is the epitome of health. Are you on any kind of birth control?” he asked casually, trying his best to make you feel safe around him.

“N… no… I…” your voice broke, and tears started streaming down your cheeks. Doctor Lucas quickly removed the wand, cleaned it and sat down next to you.

“It’s okay. Let it all out,” he told you softly. Concern for your well being was painted on his chiselled face.

“It’s just that… I haven’t had sex for years, YEARS doc. No man wants a broken woman, especially not a woman that cannot be penetrated without her screaming in pain.”

You babbled so much you forgot that you were in a gynaecologist’s office and not at a psychologist.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blurt all that out,” you started to blush a crimson red.

Lucas fought hard not to pull you into his arms. His protective instincts were on high alert; he wanted to make you feel safe, make you feel loved. He was cursing the bastards who had hurt you. To him, women were the stronger sex, had to endure more pain than men. Women are precious, made to birth life, made to give love and be loved.

“It’s quite alright. You’ve had a rough time,” he patted your arm, the safest place to touch you and went to get up. “I’m going to feel around to see if there’s something I’ve missed with the ultrasound. What other bands do you listen to?”

You watched as doctor Syverson slapped on another pair of gloves and squirted a smaller amount of gel on his finger, on his long thick finger. You were practically drooling by watching him prepare to examine you.

“Eh… I listen to a little bit of everything,” you said. You laid back down and draped an arm over your eyes. Watching the handsome doctor working was becoming too much for you. He was stirring feelings inside you that you hadn’t felt in a long time, and not in this form or quantity. You had taken a look at his well-proportioned ass when he walked out earlier, and his black trousers did very little to hide his hefty package.

“I’m sorry, but, again, this is going to be a little cold. What was the last song you listened to?” he warned.

It was an erotic scene, watching him standing between your legs, one hand on your belly, while the other was about to enter your most sacred place. You felt him enter. A soft moan escaped your lips.

Lucas’ ears perked. He hadn’t expected to hear that sound coming from your full lips. Had he heard correctly? The little vibration from you sent a jolt straight to the beast he was trying to keep dormant. This wasn’t the first time a woman had moaned while he examined them, but you were different. Another sweet sound reached his ears. You were so responsive to his touch, so open, so reactive. His mind was racing, but one word kept popping up, more.

You had forgotten how to speak, how to form sentences, how to communicate. You could only feel.

“Miss?”

“Hmm?”

“The last song? You listened to,” he didn’t mean to sound so tense, but he had to distract himself, his treacherous mind, he needed to keep the small-talk going, to break the silence. He wanted to kick himself in the balls for thinking about you, while he was fingers deep inside you. His compassionate instinct was winning over his lust.

Stop it, Lucas! You’re a professional. You cannot mess up! You CAN NOT fuck this up! She needs your help. Lord, give me strength.

“Oh...” you murmured, coming back from whatever universe he had sent you to with his finger technique, “Ehm, before the Metallica song in the elevator, I listened to ‘What’s Your Country Song’ by Thomas Rhett.”

“That’s a great song. I like country music.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you as a country kinda g… GOD!!!” you gasped as he curled his finger, touching the spot.

You released a louder sinful sound, a sound that hadn’t left your lips in a very long time. Lucas watched as your chest was heaving, gasping for air. The room was suddenly suffocating him. He felt like he was burning up from the inside. His breath was hitched, and he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Why did you have to sound like desire itself?

“Does it hurt when I do this?” he asked, his voice lowering an octave and reduced to a velvety whisper. He hooked his finger once more, listening intensely to the sounds escaping you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back in your head. You lifted your hips, moving your pelvis closer, needing more friction, needing to feel him deeper inside you.

Fuck!

He was watching you, vehemently. A fire was burning deep in his groin, heck even his eyes were flaming. His shoulders moved fastly up and down as he was heaving in the air through his parted lips, he needed oxygen, he needed to control himself. He was scolding himself for feeling like a horny teenager.

“This is… wrong,” he said in a panic. He moved his hand away from you. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist in a fierce grip.

“Please…” you begged, “please don’t stop. I… I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Please, Lucas… I need you… I need you to finish this.”

He could hear the need in your voice. He could smell your arousal. You were clawing your nails into his skin. The look in your eyes was clear that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. The same eyes were shining with unshed tears, begging him for release, and the sound of his name from your lips was making him so close to breaking his resolve.

“I… can’t… you’re my patient,” he groaned, his forehead showing the concerned lines of wrinkles, which made him look even more desirable.

“Can’t you make an exception? Just this once? Please...”

Lucas ran a gloved hand through his short-cropped hair. He turned away from you, needing support for his shaky legs he leaned against the back of his office chair. He was thinking about it, really thinking about it.

“Please, doll. Don’t test me. I’m standing on the edge, and I’m this close to jumping in with both feet. I can lose my career, and I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”

You watched as his shoulders sank. You moved off the examination table, pulling the hem of your shirt down to try to cover your nakedness.

“I’m sorry, dr. Syverson. I… I didn’t mean to put you in such a precarious situation,” your voice was small. Your gaze firmly on the wooden floor beneath your feet, you felt so ashamed to have tried to seduce your gynaecologist, who was only trying to help you. Lucas turned around to the sound of your voice breaking, and a little saddened that you started calling him his title again. Your cheeks flushed, your arms wrapped around yourself. You gathered the courage to move towards your clothes.

“Damn it!” he cursed. He moved towards you with the speed of lightning before you could take a single step. His large muscular frame wrapped around you, your head was laying on his chest, listening to the racing of his heartbeat.

“Say ‘you’re fired’,” he ordered, his voice husky and commanding like some kind of army captain, but it was also desperate. Desperate for you not to leave him. Craving your touch. Desiring, longing, yearning, lusting for you.

Your eyes widened in shock as you processed his words. He heard you gasp as you realised what he was saying.

“Dr. Syverson… you’re fired,” you whispered seductively, although a little shaky too. You watched as the sweet and calm doctor changed before your very eyes.

He clashed his lips with yours in a hungry kiss. He was starving; his only thought was to taste you that was his only goal. Your scent had been making him insane; famished was more correctly described.

While holding you in his arms, he made you move backwards until your bum found the end of the exam table.

His kisses were desperate, and so were you. Your heart felt as if it was about to beat out of your chest. Your breathing was shallow. It was going to happen; it was really going to happen.

He lifted you up and made you sit on the exam table. He parted your legs and went to stand between them. He cupped your face between his warm palms, leaning down to kiss you again. He kissed your jaw and all the way to the shell of your ear.

“Please, don’t regret this,” he whispered and went to touch his forehead against yours.

“I want it, even more than you do,” you answered breathlessly.

With your consent, there was no turning back now.

He devoured your mouth while his hands roamed all over your body. He unbuttoned your blouse while you shoved his white coat to the floor. You pulled at his button-up, buttons were flying everywhere. He shoved your shirt down your shoulders and off your arms before he threw it somewhere behind him. You ran your hands up and down his hairy chest, wanting to feel all of him, not the doctor, but the fine specimen of a man that he was.

He removed your bra with a flick of his fingers. Slowly revealing your breast to him. Your nipples two hard buds, waiting for his mouth to suck, lick, bite, whatever he wanted to do.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His voice was desperate, so filled with lust, but also something oh so sweet.

Lucas moved his lips down your collar bone. Feasting on your breast, nibbling at your skin, before he finally went to town with your nipples. With the first touch of his tongue on your left breast, while he pinched the right, you let out a loud guttural sound. Just him playing with your bosom was about to send you over the edge. The coil in your belly was so close to snapping.

“More… Please, Lucas, more,” you whimpered, pushing his head to the place where you needed his mouth the most, right between your thighs.

You heard him chuckle. He gently pushed you down, making sure you were comfortable before he hooked your legs over his shoulders for better access to your glistening desire.

“Fuck…” you mewled. The sight of the mountain man between your legs, the growing bulge in his dark trousers was so erotic you were about to combust. Your sex was on fire.

“Your body is divine, bug. It was made to be worshipped. I want to make the pain go away,” he said softly.

You didn’t get to say a word as his tongue ran along the seam of your wetness, making you shutter from the first contact. His tongue was wide and long, his mouth blowing hot air as he sucked your lower lips gently.

That tongue of his was everywhere, inside you, lavishing you, adoring every centimetre of your flushed skin. You lifted your head to watch him working you into a frenzy, right as he sucked his index finger into his mouth, coating the digit with his saliva.

The pleasure that he was giving you was overwhelming. The moment he pushed his finger inside your womanhood, was like nothing you had felt before. His finger was warm, and it was a whole different feeling than when he was gloved. His tongue darted out to play with the glistening pearl hiding between your lips, sucking in his finger. Your wetness allowed his movements to be smooth and easy, in and out, and he found that spot that made you howl in ecstasy.

“Luc… I’m… I’m so close… FUCK!”

The coil broke, snatched, ripped apart. You weren’t pushed over the edge, you were shoved, hard, and the pleasuring waves kept coming and coming. It felt as if your orgasm was never-ending. You never wanted to come down from that high. It was addictive.

You released your hold of Sy’s head from your thighs, not having noticed you had trapped him. You were panting hard, trying to catch your breath after the tsunami of an orgasm the doctor had given you.

Lucas’ palm covered your cheek, wiping the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

“Did I hurt you, doll?” his face scrunched in concern.

You shook your head, no.

“No… that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.”

The smile on Lucas’ face was breathtaking. He was beaming with pride. You watched as he leaned back, noticing he was still wearing his trousers. The apparent bulge in his abdominal area looked painful.

You moved to sit up, motioning for him to stand.

“I want to return the favour,” you told him, unzipping his trousers. You were gentle, as the tent grew more extensive, the more you released his manhood from its confinement. You helped him out of his black boxer briefs and came face to face with the finest cock you had ever laid eyes on. You were drooling, licking your lips, dying to taste him.

“You don’t have to, angel,” he groaned as your tongue darted out to taste the precum leaking from the tip, hearing him growl, a sound coming from deep inside him.

“Please let me, Sy,” you pleaded, taking his length in your hand. You looked up to see Lucas nodding slowly. He groaned in acceptance.

You ran your tongue over your palm to lubricate it. Lucas’ eyes widened to the size of teacups. His cock jolting in excitement, his heart skipping a beat at the erotic scene happening right before him.

One hand touched his hips, moving to the small of his back, to have a grip on his ass, pushing him closer to your face. He filled your hand beautifully with his hardness, yet he was still soft to the touch of your palm. You started moving your hand up, slowly, hearing his gasp was turning you on even more than you already were. You smeared the clear precum around the glans with your thumb. Delicately wrapping your mouth around him. Your lips were stretched to max capacity, a voice in the back of your mind was telling you that you had to be careful not to lock your jaws, but then again you had a doctor right in front of you if the situation should happen.

You languidly moved his member further into your warm mouth, coating him with your saliva. Your tongue gliding over the tip. Lucas released a low moan that sent vibrations through his body. He lifted his face towards the ceiling. Your hand left his ass, moving down his thighs, tickling the backside of his knee, before travelling up the inside of his thigh and gently cupping his balls.

“Fuuuuuuck…” he guttered. You sucked the part that could fit in your mouth in synchronicity with your hand’s movement. He felt the tightening deep within his testicles. The hitching in his breath notified you of his coming release. You led his hands to your scalp, letting his fingers fisting your hair, before giving him a sultry look with his cock in your mouth.

He was grunting hard as he set the pace, while you did your best to keep up with him. Moving his hips, chasing his release inside your mouth. You relaxed your throat, letting him take over. You wanted so much to please him.

“Fuck, sunshine… I’m so close,” he growled.

“Come in my mouth,” you uttered. It was like something within him snapped the minute you voiced the words. He moved faster, harder, rougher. Until you felt the first spurts of his seed hitting your palate. You swallowed everything he spilt and then licked him clean.

Sy fumbled with his office chair as he sat down with a satisfied hum and pulled you to sit on his lap.

“That was amazing,” he smiled at you, kissing the tip of your nose, your cheek, the corner of your mouth and lastly a lingering kiss on your reddened lips.

“Glad you approve,” you grinned back, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“About those books,” you pointed towards the books you had peeked at earlier.

“Theses I had to write for med school.”

“Tell me about them while you rest for round two.”

#Henry Cavill #This man #I need a drink #Captain Syverson #Fanfiction #My story #Radaofrivia #Co-written #SMUT #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #Henry Cavill x reader #Henry Cavill x female reader #Henry x reader #Henry x female reader #Sex on Fire

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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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deanstead · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Take Care Of You

Pairing: Will Halstead x Reader

Requested by anon: reader comes back home with her boyfriend Will after one year being away. she tries to hide the fact that she feels sick to Will so he doesn't worry, but he soon realizes about it. he takes her to the hospital against her will, and there he treats her of the anemia he discovers she's suffering. also, reader is afraid of doctors, and Will is really worried about reader's health.

Warnings: anxiety, mentions of illness, fluff

A/N: Received a specific request to write for Will so I thought I would try this out! Please let me know what you think, if I should write more for Will too? Am in no way a doctor or nurse so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes in medical terminology or situations! Even so, hope you like this one! Taglists are open!

*gif not mine*

---

“Y/N?”

You looked up from where you were sitting on the floor in front of his apartment, although you could already imagine the look on Will’s face. You smiled, getting to your feet as he ran towards you, pulling you into his arms and nuzzling his face into your neck.

It had been a year. One whole year since you had been forced to leave Chicago for work. Professionally, it had been good for you. It was good career progression and all that crap your boss had forced down your throat but it had been difficult for you as well. Leaving your friends, your family, your boyfriend behind.

“When did you get back?” Will asked, gently pulling himself away to look at you.

You smiled. “I came straight from the airport.” You paused, “I hope that’s alright.”

“It’s better than alright.” Will answered, pulling you into another hug. “Come on.”

Will fumbled with the keys for a while before he pushed the door open.

The moment the door was closed, Will pushed his lips down onto yours, as you felt the rush of warmth from just being near Will – a feeling you hadn’t had in a year, and the feeling that you had missed the most.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Will whispered.

You looped your arms around his waist, pushing yourself closer to his chest. “So am I.”

---

Being back in Chicago was great for you. What was not so great was the light-headedness that had followed you back as well.

You had always tired easily but you had figured the stress in New York had made it worse. Stress coupled with being alone in a new city had definitely made it worse. But you hadn’t expected to still be feeling this after being back.

Will glanced at you over the table in his apartment and you could see the small furrow in his brow that indicated he was worried. “Y/N? You okay?”

You realised you had been frowning while waiting for the headache to pass.

You nodded, smiling back at him. “Yeah, just tired.”

Will smiled, although he still looked a little worried. “Nothing caffeine won’t fix. Come on, you’re going to be late.” You said as you walked around the table, heading to him as he leaned forward to give you a kiss.

He turned to walk out the door and you felt a dizzy spell hit you. You grabbed the edge of the table but not quietly enough. Will spun back around as he heard a dull thud from the impact of your palm hitting the table, and he saw you sway a little on your feet.

Quickly, he made it back to you, throwing his bag onto the floor.

“Y/N!” Will was by your side, a steady hand on your shoulder as you sank to the ground.

“I’m fine.” You managed to get out, feeling a slight shortness of breath.

Will looked at you a little while more, studying you. “Okay, that’s it, you’re coming to Med with me.”

“Wait, what?” You asked. “Will, I’m fine, it’s just a dizzy spell.”

Will shook his head. “Humor me.”

“Will…” You tried to protest but he looked at you.

“You gonna walk with me, or do I have to carry you there?” Will asked, and you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

“Fine.” You relented, finally letting Will lead you towards his car.

---

“Will, you know how much I hate doctors.” You whined, as he put you into a treatment room.

Will looked at you. “Ouch.”

You smiled. “You know what I mean.”

“I’ll be right here, okay?” Will reassured me as a nurse came in. “Doris, can we get a CBC, CMP, the complete tests.”

You shot a glance at Will. “It’s okay, I’ll be right back.” He planted a kiss on your head before heading out.

“You’re better at this than I gave you credit for.” You told Doris, who smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.” She said before she disappeared out the room.

---

Will watched you from where he stood at the doctors’ station.

“Will?” Maggie called, following his line of vision.

“What’s Y/N doing here?” She asked, looking back at him.

Will looked back at Maggie. “I’m waiting on the test results.” Will’s expression was strained although he tried not to let it show. “I practically had to drag her in here. Why didn’t she tell me?”

Maggie looked at him. “I’m sure she just didn’t want you to worry.”

Will sighed and Maggie patted his arm reassuringly. “I’ll try to put a rush on those tests.”

“Thanks Mags.”

Just then, a faint beep sounded from the treatment room you were in. “Dr Halstead!”

Will’s head snapped up as he ran to your room.

“What happened?” He demanded, looking at you, your eyes wide, your chest heaving.

“Will…”

Doris looked up at Will. “Sats are dropping.”

“Oxygen. Now.” He instructed, as Doris nodded. He turned back to you, “Shh, it’s okay. We’re going to give you some oxygen. I need you to try to relax okay? It’s okay.”

You nodded, as Doris gently put the oxygen on you and you felt oxygen slowly fill your lungs once again.

Will watched you, a small worried frown still resting on his forehead but he smiled when he noticed you watching him.

“We’ll figure this out. I’ll be back soon, okay?” Will gently stroked your hair.

You nodded, watching him hurry out of the room.

Will sighed, taking a last look towards your treatment room before heading straight for Maggie.

---

“Hey.” You looked up as Will entered again.

“I got your results.”

Will sighed as he sat on your bed. “The tests show you have anemia. You must have been having these symptoms for a while. When did they start?”

You blinked back at him. “What? Anemia?”

Will took your hand, “Has it ever been this bad?” You immediately shook your head. You could kind of tell Will was holding something back and it made you wonder if he was mad at you.

“Your red blood cell count is lower than I would like. Let’s do an iron infusion today to improve your levels then we can make a plan to manage it, alright?”

You sighed. “More needles?”

Will gave a small smile. “I’ll stay with you while they set it up?”

You gave him a skeptical look but didn’t answer. “Please?” Will said.

“Thar’s so unfair, Will. You know I can’t say no to you when you do that.”

Will took your hand and kissed it. “Just the iron infusion then I should be able to take you home, okay?”

You nodded, wincing a little as you felt the IV pierce your skin. “That’s it.” Doris said, smiling.

“Will.” You called, before he left. “I’m sorry.”

Will frowned slightly again. “For what?”

You looked pointedly at the room around you, your eyes finally resting on the IV needle.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” Will planted a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit?”

You nodded but you could see the hesitation in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” You reassured, giving him a smile before he finally nodded, giving Doris more instructions before he left.

---

Will hadn’t said a word since you had been discharged. He had just silently led you out of the ED and into his car.

He swung open the door to his apartment, leading you to the couch. You leaned against the fabric of Will’s couch as he put two iron pills in your palm and handed you a glass of water.

You echoed his silence, swallowing the iron pills, your eyes following him as he pattered back towards the kitchen.

You stretched your legs out, lying flat on the couch before turning your head in, so that your face was hidden from view, buried into the cushion.

You could hear Will pattering about, you even knew exactly where he was in the house based on the sound of his footsteps and you felt the sting of tears behind your eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be anemia. They were supposed to be symptoms that resolved once you were back in Chicago. Which they weren’t. And now, Will was probably mad at you.

“Y/N, you can sleep inside.” Will said, absentmindedly.

When you didn’t respond, he gently touched your shoulders but you didn’t move so he gently tugged, turning you around. You tried to resist, you didn’t really want to let him see you crying because you couldn’t explain it anyway, but it was like fighting a losing battle.

You saw the moment that Will realised you were crying and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?” He asked, a tone of worry evident in his voice.

You didn’t say anything as Will studied you. “Are you feeling breathless? Y/N, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered again.

“What…” Will trailed off, before helping you sit up, sitting on the ground in front of you, and looking straight into your eyes.

“I didn’t… I just didn’t want you to worry.” You whispered, pulling your eyes away from his. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They said it was stress symptoms. I…”

“Woah.” Will stopped you, realizing what was happening. “I’m not mad.”

You looked up at him, as he continued, “I’m just worried. You should have told me this was happening.”

“I’m sorry.” You said again, as Will got to his knees and enveloped you into a hug.

“It was hard.” You whispered. “Being away from you for a year.”

Will didn’t say anything but you could feel him leaning further into you.

“But you’re here now.” He finally whispered in your ear. “I’ll take care of you.”

You pulled out of his embrace to look at him, putting a hand on his cheek, his stubble tickling your palm. “We’re lucky, it’s not that serious. We just need to manage it, and you’ll be fine… we’ll be fine.” Will whispered.

You smiled, “Thanks, Will.”

“Don’t keep it from me if you’re unwell, okay?” Will asked.

You nodded. “Okay, I promise.” You answered, smiling as you nuzzled back into his embrace.

---

WILL HALSTEAD TAGLIST

@winterberryfox | @bestillmystuckyheart | @jayhlstead | @winterreader-nowwriter

If you would like to be added to a taglist, you may request here or send me an ask!

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stressy-enby · 3 years ago

Note

2, sad, tenya iida and bakugo, your boss at agency.

Gdgdhsj I need to rewatch inside just for goodbye hxhxhhx

We're starting off with some angst!!

Ok, so this didn't have a lot of details, so I took a few liberties. Sorry if it's not what you imagined, but I'm pretty happy with what I cooked up.

Also, as a general note for all Bo Burnham Prompts, the lyric requested is not used as a direct dialogue prompt, but more of a general base idea for the fic.

Enjoy. 😉

Masterlist

. . .

Warnings: Swearing, hospitals, someone being shot, my horrible knowledge of surgery and medical procedures. If you’re familiar with medical stuff, you’re gonna have to suspend some disbelief here

"Am I going crazy? Would I even know? Am I right back where I started 14 years ago?”

You should've realized that working with professional heroes would be dangerous, even if you weren't directly in the line of action.

You were a psychologist working at Dynamite Agency. Mental health workers being employed at hero agencies was a new trend, one that you severely hoped lasted. You were often genuinely concerned with the mental states of your boss and his sidekicks. That, and you enjoyed having a job.

This being a rising trend, not all heroes who wanted one had a personal psychologist. Heroes often paid extra for them to come from their home-base agency to meet with and get diagnoses from. Ingenium had been one such hero.

"You got a minute?" Dynamite's secretary, and quiet yet attentive young man named Banamu knocked on your office door, sticking his head in nervously.

"Sure thing, what's up?" You looked up from your laptop, quickly closing your Twitter tab. No one needed to know that you didn't constantly have something to do.

"Ingenium Agency's requested a psychologist to go down for a day and talk with him and the sidekicks. There's a pretty good payment on it if you can head down there sometime next week."

"They don't have a psych person down there yet?" You asked, following Banamu's movement's over the top of your screen as you navigated to your calendar. "What exactly am I getting paid?"

He gave you the number, and you threw your eyebrows up. It was more than you made in three days of sitting in your office listening to Dynamite vent. It was more than you'd been offered on any of your other off-sight jobs.

"Sold to the man who's willing to give me that kind of cash. When exactly do they need me?"

"They didn't give me a specific date. I can get you on the line with Ingenium's secretary so you can work it out though." Banamu offered, flipping through the mess of papers in his arms.

"Good for me. Thanks bud." You saluted him as he located the paper he was looking for, and laid a sheet with names and contacts on your desk.

"Of course, Doctor." He nodded, already halfway out the door. "Have a good rest of your day!"

"I'm still not a doctor, Banamu!" You called after him, chuckling as he speed-walked down the hall, giving no indication that he'd heard you. "I really need to talk to Dynamight about how much work that poor kid has."

. . . . .

Two weeks after your visit to Ingenium Agency and you still found reasons to go back. You told yourself you were just spending your breaks with their brand new mental health worker to get them settled into the job. Nakami was a sunny yet incredibly organized young thing; they couldn't have been much older than Banamu, yet they were more than comfortable with their job within the first week of being there.

If you hadn't insisted on constantly lying to yourself, you'd have to admit that you were there to see Ingenium. Or, as he'd asked you to call him, Iida.

He was a refreshing breath of air from Dynamite. You liked working for him, but he could still be a lot. Iida was calm, collected, and had actually listened to your thoughts and advice when he'd hired you to come over to do your job. (Dynamite had a bad habit of brushing of your words of wisdom. You never knew why he'd hired you to give him advice on his mental state if he wasn't going to listen to you, but you weren't complaining. You got paid whether he got better or not.)

You'd struck up a fast friendship with Iida. Despite only having spent a handful of hour-long lunch breaks with him, you had found you could talk to him about just about anything. You spoke of everything and of nothing at all, and always left wishing you could stay longer.

Your constant disappearances to the other agency had gone far from unnoticed by your co-workers, least of all your boss.

"Where have you been running off to on your breaks?" Dynamite asked you one day as he walked you to your car.

"Ingenium Agency." You replied without an ounce of embarrassment.

He was quiet for a moment before pointing out "They have a psychologist now."

"That's right. Their name's Nakami. Sweet kid."

"Then what the hell are you doing over there?"

"Well, last week I was there to help train Nakami and get them accustomed to work." You said slowly.

"And this week?" Dynamite probed with an arched eyebrow.

"And this week, I was mostly hanging out with Ingenium." You admitted. "He goes on break around the same time that I do."

"What are you two friends now?"

"Yeah, he's nice to hang out with." You smirked at the hero as you leaned against your car. "He is severely lacking in anger issues, though."

"Aren't you supposed to be helping me with that?" Dynamite snapped.

"I can't help you if you don't let me." You shot back.

Dynamite rolled his eyes with a scoff, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Whatever. Do whatever with your time, I don't really give a shit. Just make sure you're back on time. If you keep cutting it close like this Banamu's gonna have a conniption-"

BANG

Suddenly, pain rocketed through your side. You collapsed to the ground as Dynamite flew past you to the source of the sound. You were in so much pain you weren't sure where it was coming from. You heard the tell-tale explosions that told you that Dynamite was apprehending whoever it was who had shot you. People where screaming. You might've been screaming too.

Seconds later, he was back. He held you tightly, crimson eyes narrowed into slits as he inspected your injury.

"Shit," He whispered. "Some call an ambulance! Now!" He screamed over his shoulder.

"Fuck, everything hurts. Did you get 'em?" You whimpered.

"Of course I did." He says curtly. It sounds harsh, but you know him well enough to hear the undertone of fear behind his voice.

"You couldn't have taken care of it before I got shot?" You quipped.

"Like I knew it was going to happen. Now stop talking. Conserve your strength."

You nodded, leaning your head against Dynamite's chest.

You should've realized that working with professional heroes would be dangerous, even if you weren't directly in the line of action. The streets where crawling with people looking for a chance to assassinate popular heroes. All it takes is an unsteady aim for things to go south.

. . . . .

Iida usually never took calls when he was on the job. He kept his phone on, but left it on vibrate. Just in case. Today though, he made an exception when he saw that his old classmate Katsuki Bakugo’s ID on his cell phone screen.

The two hadn’t really spoken in several years (outside of the occasional team-up or hero event), so Iida couldn’t really day they were close. That may’ve been why he answered the call, despite being on a late patrol.

Iida figured it couldn’t have been a social call.

“Hello? Baku-”

“(L/N)’s been shot.”

Iida froze, nearly dropping his phone. “What?”

“Some jackass trying to kill me missed. Bullet caught ‘em in the side and grazed a lung.” Bakugo’s voice cracked around the last sentence. “We’re over in the Musutafu General Hospital. I’ll be in the waiting room.”

“Wait, Bakugo.” Iida’s own voice cracked as well. “This is a lot to take in. They where shot?”

“Yes, they’re in surgery right now.” He huffed impatiently. “If you get your ass over here, you can be there when they wake up.”

“Right. I may be a while, I’ve gotta get back to my agency. I’m on patrol.” Iida replied, quickly turning on his heel.

“Whatever. I’ll see you later-”

“Wait.” Iida pleaded. “Why are you telling me this? Why did you think to tell me (L/N) had been injured?”

Bakugo was quiet for a moment. Iida was afraid he’d hung up until-

“I know you two are friends or whatever. I mean, you gotta at least tolerate them to let them go over during their breaks as often as they do. I figured you’d wanna know.”

A weak smile crossed Iida’s face. “Thank you, Bakugo. I appreciate you letting me know. I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Yeah. See you.”

. . . . .

Bakugo had had to step out to take a call. He’d scowled harshly at his phone as he lead Iida down the hall.

“I gotta take this. It’s my stupid agent. The desk lady said they’d be in 264.” He gestured at the rows of doors.

“Got it. Thanks again.”

Bakugo grunted in response, before answering his phone with an irritated “What?”

Iida continued down the gleaming white hallway solo as his companion fell back. He counted the doors in his head, all too aware of every noise around him as he searched for your room.

Finally, he found himself standing outside room 264. He peered through the window, seeing a nurse checking your vitals. He knocked twice before entering.

“Hello, are visitors allowed?” He smiled tightly at the woman, taking his eyes off you for only a second.

“Yes, but I doubt they’ll be awake anytime soon.” The nurse explained. “We finished surgery about 30 minutes ago. They’ll probably be out for another half hour.”

“That’s alright, I just wanted to see them.”

The nurse nodded her understanding, seeing the sad desperation in his eyes. “I’ll be right outside.” She said quietly. “I’ll give you a minute.”

“Thank you,” Iida sagged in relief as the kind nurse exited the room. He turned his full attention back to you.

You had no visible injuries. If Iida didn’t know any better, he’d have thought you were just sleeping. The oxygen mask kind of ruined the image though.

He had a working knowledge of surgical procedures (having had friends who went through it more often than he would’ve liked), and knew that some people post-surgery got oxygen masks to help them feel better, but the image didn’t make him feel any less sick to his stomach.

He was suddenly 16 again, bursting into a hospital room too much like this one, and seeing his brother bruised, covered in bandages, and wearing an oxygen mask.

Iida laughed mirthlessly at the thought, collapsing into a chair near your bed, head in his hands.

Am I seriously right back where I started all those years ago?

He looked at you again, that same harsh tug of seeing someone he cared about in so much pain making his stomach hurt. He sniffed, feeling his eyes mist.

“Tensei got better,” He reminded himself quietly. “Tensei got better, and so will they.”

He gazed at your sleeping face, thinking of how you’d fuss over him if you saw him in such a state. He sighed, and scooted his chair closer to you to take your hand. He didn’t care if it’d take half an hour for you to awaken.

He could wait.

#lyric's 300 follower bo bunrham event #mha #bnha #iida #tenya #tenya iida #iida x reader #tenya x reader #tenya iida x reader #katsuki #bakugo #katsuki bakugo #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #kacchan x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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