#the patch marks on the floor where there used to be a drain and I don't know why

[lemongrad]

architectural palimpsest my beloved

[olivyh]

Fluff/crack hc

Dorm leaders get Kabedon by an S/O who didn't know they kabedon'd the Dorm leaders cus Yuu wanted to get their attention and say something they deemed important

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Studying in another country is taking a lot more out of me than I thought it would, and I've been pretty drained of motivation ;;;;. Hopefully it gets better once I get more used to living here and used to being so far from my friends and family, but I'll see where it takes me! I do see all the requests and I'm very grateful for all your support and kind comments- they're all getting be through these times <<3333 I couldn't thank you all enough for your support and I'll get back into my groove soon I hope!

Riddle:

"-and as of right now, there are currently fifteen students who have told me that they will be unable to complete their tasks necessary for the upcoming unbirthday party which, unfortunately, means-" He rambled, shuffling the impressive amount of papers he was currently holding in his arms- all annotated and marked appropriately and according by date and subject. He was walking through the main hallway with the prefect after classes and was currently incredibly stressed about the events that had unfolded since he woke up. 

First, he had gotten several messages about things that had gone wrong yesterday due to a brutal storm that had run its way through his dorm overnight; consisting of ripped-up bushes, frightened animals, and overturned tables (not to mention the countless roses that had been plucked from their homes and thrown about the area). That was followed by multiple complaints about food being stolen from the kitchen (he was confident that the culprit was a certain red-headed card soldier who had been getting on his nerves day in and day out since his arrival at NRC). Following that, many students had told him that they were sick and unable to perform their duties for the day. 

Riddle felt as though his head was going to explode from stress, and he found himself rambling to the one person on campus who he felt was sane enough to understand his inner turmoil. 

"Riddle!" He gasped when his back met the cold stone wall and a hand was placed beside his head. All his worries seemed to be ripped away from him as his brain as the only thing he could focus on was the rapid thrumming of his heart beneath his uniform and how close his friend was. His mouth opened and closed for a moment as he felt his face heat up. He felt as though he couldn't breathe from the close proximity. 

"Finally," They sigh, leaning back and giving him some room to catch some much-needed air. "I was telling you that we passed the cafeteria. You mentioned that you didn't eat lunch."

"Right..." He mumbles, his voice much too small for his liking. They back away and, for a moment, Riddle wishes that those few moments of suffocation would last just a little bit longer. The more he reflects on it, the quicker his heart beats. His hands begin to tremble and he barely notices when more and a few papers slip from his grasp and fall to the floor. His face heats up once more and his breathing becomes erratic the more he looks at the prefect, the sensation becoming too intense before he finds himself stammering something about a text from Trey and running off, leaving the poor prefect in a confused daze behind him with only the echo of his heels clicking behind him.  

Leona:

He was currently trying to nap beneath the large canopy of a tree nestled deep within the botanical garden. The warmth of the sun seeped in through the vast windows that were cut in a way that decorated small patches of the ground around in the shades of the rainbow, highlighting the bright hues of the tropical flowers that he was surrounded by. He was skipping class again, as per usual, after having been victim to a three-hour-long call from his family. All he wanted to do was to rest in the small patch of grass that he'd claimed as his own and sleep until it was dinner- which wouldn't be for another five hours from then. 

He had found the most perfect spot- just hidden away from any prying eyes and surrounded by the scent of the nearby flowers, but not close enough to get sprayed by the water that would rain down when the sprinklers went off. He had just closed his eyes when he caught a familiar smell lurking in the bushes. 

"What do you want, herbivore?" He groans, peeking an eye open and squinting against the bright light. The human stands over him, hands on their hips as they cast a shadow over his form. 

"Ruggie sent me!" The beastman rolls his eyes and allows the opened one to slip closed once more. "Come on, Leona! You can't miss another class..."

"Why not?" He scoffs, rolling onto his side so he was facing away from them. He feels their hand land on his shoulder and tug lightly in an attempt to get him to look at them once more which, of course, fails. He can admire their determination in most situations, but in this kind of scenario, he can't help but feel annoyed at their insistence. 

"You have to graduate at some point!" Leona sighs and rolls over, making the human slip with a yelp that makes his eyes shoot wide open as he finds himself directly under the prefect. He smirks and tries to ignore the way his stomach flutters at their proximity. 

"Is this how you want to wake me up?" Leona chuckles. "You're awfully brave, stomping into the lion's den." He basks in their flustered expression before flipping the roles, successfully pushing them onto the dirt and laughing loudly at the way their face morphs into something much more intense than it was previously. 

"Leona..." Their quiet, flustered voice reaches his ears and he tilts his head, sitting back on his heels and allowing them to sit up, barely catching their embarrassed stammers and excuses before they run back into the gardens, disappearing between the bushes. 

He chuckles and leans back into the grass, finally able to take the nap he so desperately wished for. 

Azul:

He was currently hunched over his desk, well past the hours when he should have been showered and in bed. The rest of the Mostro Lounge was dead silent aside from the soft sounds of bubbles that emanated from the hallway and the occasional clink as he bumped into his glass of water, which bumped into the inkwell of his bonefish pen. The only other sounds that echoed throughout the room was the scratching of his pen and the occasional drawn-out sigh from the merman as he slaved away at his desk. 

His entire body ached and his eyes felt as though they were being weighed down with lead, but he had to finish the final budgeting for the lounge before dawn. If not, then he would be behind on all the other work that he had to get done- such as ordering supplies and creating menus for the next month and a half, as well as filing any reports for damages caused by rowdy guests or the notorious eel that would throw things when he had gotten into one of his moods or would draw on plates when he felt like it. 

He didn't even feel when he had dozed off, only knowing that he had blinked for a little too long before he was spun around and roughly jostled out of his dazed state. He blinks widely up at the person who currently had their hands on either side of his desk, effectively trapping him between them and the piece of furniture. Their proximity alone was enough to wake him up, leaving the mer feeling as though he'd just been plunged into the water of the Coral Sea. 

For a moment his mind was racing with thoughts about how he currently looked- he was sure that his glasses were askew (and likely smudged due to his slow, sleepy movements), his hair was probably a mess; sticking up out of his head in each and every direction, and his uniform was comprised of nothing more than his loosely buttoned white shirt and his untied bowtie that hung loosely over his shoulders. 

On the other hand, he couldn't focus on anything more than the little details he could never really see of the prefect- the way their lip juts out when they're nervous, the little lines in the corners of their eyes from when they smiled, and even the way their hair framed the face that he would watch day in and day out. 

Once his brain clicked, he scrambled for some sort of purchase, effectively tipping his chair back and making his head hit the desk with a thud as pain shot down his spine from the impact. He hit the ground with a groan before the prefect helped him up, walking with him back to his room to nurse his injury. He couldn't tell if his face was burning and his heart was constricting from embarrassment or affection, but he decided that he couldn't care either way. 

Kalim:

"But then we could find some new animals to add to the dorm! It would be fun, right?" The heir was currently trying to brainstorm ideas on how to make his dormmates seem less... drained. For the past couple of weeks, due to finals, he noticed how exhausted many of them were. His concern arose when some of them even turned down dinner in favor of studying or sleep. He wasn't exactly sure how he could help them, considering that the most he's been able to offer thus far was a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, as well as festivals and parties (that many of the students also declined). He was at a loss for what to do until he decided to do some research, which lead him on a tangent in his room, late into the hours of the night. The windows were wide open, which allowed some moonlight to creep in and join the warm light of the magically-lit lanterns and the quiet music that played off his phone- now cast onto his bed and long forgotten in his whirlwind of planning. 

"I really don't think that animals would help much," The prefect sighed. That makes him stand still for a moment, sighing and casting a sad glance over to the former. He continues to pace, mumbling different ideas out loud and hoping that they would pick up on at least a little bit of what he was saying. Before he knows it, he's yelling excitedly and practically skipping around his spacious room, hands flailing as he jabbers about possible plans to improve his dormmates' wellbeing. He doesn't even notice when the prefect begins to call his name. 

"But if it doesn't work, then what?" He finishes, taking a deep breath to look over at them. He takes notice of the concerned look on their face, his energy instantly dissipating as he rushes to their side. "What's wrong? You look sad..." 

"I'm not sad, Kali. I'm just a little worried. You're not responsible for everyone's happiness," They explain and Kalim feels his heart shatter as confusion clouds his brain. 

"I'm..." He pauses and smiles, letting out a short, silent laugh. "I'm a dorm leader! I have to!" 

He gasps when he feels himself trapped suddenly against his wardrobe, cutting off his train of thought roughly as he sucks in a deep breath. 

"What are you...?"

"So you'll finally listen to what I'm saying!" 

He nods and tries to ignore the feeling in the back of his mind that begs him to squirm. He has been close to the prefect before, yes, but never for a long enough period of time. He'd only done it to help them learn how to do the dances of his hometown, or when he would clean up with them (or attempt to, at least). But this felt completely different from all those times before...

"I'm... listening," He breathes softly after a long pause, making his friend back away for a moment. In that split second, he desperately wishes that he could be as smooth as the princes in all the fairytales he'd grown up reading and pull them back, fighting back the urge to get closer to them once more. 

Vil:

"In just a moment," Vil murmured, leaning in closer to the mirror that sat at his desk. The lights would have been blinding if thy hadn't reflected off his light violet eyes so brightly and highlighted each and every product that he layered on his perfect skin. He had a meeting in just an hour, and he was already running behind schedule. His dearest friend, the prefect, was currently lounging on his bed, sprawled out and scrolling on their phone while he focused on perfecting his makeup for the undoubtedly long and boring few hours he had ahead of him. 

"Vil-" They whined loudly and, in the corner of his eye, he could watch them dramatically throw their arms in the air and flopping them beside their head as they look into his eyes from the background. 

"It won't be long, I promise!"

"Nonsense," He sighs. He couldn't deny that he was hungry and, normally, he was practical about his eating schedule. He ate three square meals, and carried around a healthy snack for if he felt as though he needed something extra to get him through the day. Today, however, he had skipped lunch due to rehearsal, and he was certainly feeling the effects now. He could always ignore this and opt to eat at a later time, perhaps once the meeting was over and he could grab something quick from a nearby restaurant. 

He turned to face them, only to notice that they were hovering over him and had slammed their hands on his desk loudly, startling him slightly as he jolted. He was surprised, if he was being honest- he wasn't expecting this type of reaction to come from the sweet, sweet prefect. 

He sighs, looking up at them with an eyebrow quirked and a small smile on his face as he observes their annoyed expression, before watching as that expression shifts from annoyance to realization to embarrassment. 

"Are these the lengths you're truly willing to go to?" He chuckles, determined to turn the tables. He leans in, enjoying the way the prefect seems caught like a deer in headlights. He leans back and goes back to his makeup, making eye contact with them in the mirror and smiling once more. "Nevertheless, you'll have to wait."

He can barely catch their groan filled with disbelief and annoyance before he continues on his work. 

Idia:

"But if I log in for the rest of the week, I should still be at the top of the charts, right? But then, my next problem would be that I hadn't grinded for enough lucky stars yet!" Idia was currently pacing in his room, ranting to his newfound friend as they sat on his bed, listening to his problems eagerly as he carried on. "If I log in, I'll be caught up, but not caught up enough to get the new SSR+ that everyone else probably already has!" He throws his hands up in the air, noticing how, out of the corner of his eye, his firey hair lit up the room in shades of amber as he got more and more worked up. "I mean, how unfair is that? I have to go to school! They prob don't even have to do that or dorm leader stuff, so that's exactly how they got ahead of me! Which sucks!" 

"Idia..."

"I mean, I've been playing this game since the release and suddenly all these Magicam normies suddenly get the sneak on me because they just joined? I'm glad the fanbase is growing but I mean come on!"

"Idia!"

"And then they're completely mischaracterizing them! Like, absolutely butchering the characters! Shadow isn't all gloomy all the time- he actually has a soft spot for his teammates which is so cool and also such a big thing for them to ignore!"

"Idia Shroud!"

"And I saw on Magicam that they were completely ignoring the plot and the character development- like, in Blade's SSR+ that was released last year, she clearly mentions the main plot and how much it changed her as a person! And people still have the audacity to ignore her!" He was pacing more quickly now, rambling so quickly that he already felt his mouth going dry. The headphones around his neck blasted the ambient music from the paused game on his PC, but he could care less after seeing one particular post that got him worked up. 

He felt himself getting pushed to the wall as he stared down at the prefect in shock, his hair turning a bright crimson as his face went a similar shade. He stammered for a moment before biting his lip to shut himself up, feeling the way his heart hammered in his chest and made his head dizzy as the world around him spun. 

He was being kabedon-ed. 

Just like in all his shows. 

"Th-this-"

"I asked if you wanted something to eat," He could only muster a nod before he gulps, biting his lip once more as he gasps for air and his knees go weak. "Idia."

"How did I-," He murmurs, suddenly feeling faint. "-get this route?" Idia whispered the last word as he felt his entire body go limp as he passed out. 

Malleus:

He had been more than fortunate to have made such a close friend- one he can call his first in his very long life thus far. As of recently, however, he'd noticed that his affections had become more than simple friendship- the seeds have been planted within the cold thorn walls of his heart and had begun to blossom into fragrant roses that constricted his chest and dominated his every waking thought. More often than not, he had been able to surpass this feeling that had consumed him, placing on his mask of contentedness whenever they would look his way wearing the smile that would make his heart melt and the fireflies that would often surround him fly a little faster in bright yellow streaks against his pale skin and ivory hair that framed his narrow face. 

Now had been one of those moments. They were currently exploring the forest around campus, and Malleus finally had the opportunity to show the prefect a small meadow hidden just outside of the sports field- a bustling meadow, filled with wildflowers that sprouted out of the ground and painted the scenery in all the colors of the rainbow and insects buzzing from flower to flower contentedly. He cast a longing glance over to the human, smiling softly at their awed expression- mouth hanging open as their eyes were so wide he could practically see the entire meadow reflected against their irises. 

He had wished so desperately to capture this moment in a little bubble, to place it upon a pedestal in his treasure room and gaze at it whenever the nights seem to be too long. Oh, how he wished he could hold their face in his own hands and that the chill of his skin wouldn't give them a shock. He longed to live with them in this meadow- perhaps run far away from his life of nobility to do just that. 

He could practically feel it- the warmth of the sun against his face and the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders as they forage for berries- perhaps they would even take a small nap among the flower fae living in the area, only to wake at sunset and move to make a warm meal together in the small kitchen of their cottage. 

Suddenly, he's trapped between a small tree with the human in question practically pinning him against it. His eyes widen for a moment as his mind freezes, struggling to understand the sudden proximity. 

"Mal-" Before they could finish their sentence, he had vanished in a cloud of fireflies, leaving the concerned human dazed and alone in the middle of the field. 

From that point onwards, Malleus was forced to endure Lilia's incessant teasing about his reaction.

[froggyphycosis]

Me and you outlined in stars PT2

Cassandra/April

WOO! It's finally here at long last! (no one was waiting) apologies for going quiet due to some stuff happening with life at the moment im going to go mostly dead during the weekdays and only really post during the weekends (please still chat to me tho!) anyway here's the ficcc.

Previous chapter!

Summary~

After the events of part 1 Cassandra takes April to go do something she loves

2652 words

TW blood

Cw swearing

Cw mentions of violence from previous chapter

Fluff

Cuddles

Caretaking (this chapter is so sweet and fluffy I swear)

_____________________________________

...And now here she was. Watching April fumble with her apartment keys in one hand and gripping Cassandra's tight in the other. Her face is still rigid and frustrated. She manages to get the door open after a second and she nothing short of slams it open, Cassandra can hear Carol's shout of surprise from here.

April actually let's go of her hand now and starts to walk off. It feels like Cassandra has just had her skin scraped away by ice.

"Wait where are you going?!" she hates how scared her voice sounds even to her.

"Go sit on the couch I'll be out in the minute." she growls, stepping into her room and shutting the door with a soft click. No slam or rattle of the shelves like she was expecting, and not even bothering to look back.

April's anger usually burns hot. It's big and it's protective. All the Hamto's are like that, their love and passion and care fueling their anger like coal to the burning. If they're angry you'll know about it.

But not this time, April's gone quiet and dismissive and it's making the ugly thing in Cassandra twist into something even more disgusting.

Theres a soft sigh behind her.

It's Carol.

That shouldn't make Cassandra startle as much as it does. She's met Carol before and her intent towards her has always been one of kindness and warmth, welcoming her into her home like it was so normal to want somone like Cassandra in thier daughters life.

Even if it was only as friends.....

Carol steps forward suddenly, making her flinch. The older women's eyes are soft when they meet her own, even with the state she's in. Grimy boots on the carpet, blood staining the entire bottom half of her face and the really very pretty top that Mikey had gifted her.

She's probably going have to throw it away now.

"Why don't we sit you down on the couch baby I'll go grab the kit in the kitchen and then I'll get you all patched up how does that sound?"

It's a question.

She can leave if she wants to, if it's to much. Carol is giving her an out, and she doesn't move an inch as she waits for the answer.

Cassandra still can't get around the knot wedged in her throat though and has to settle with a nod instead, eyes down casted on the floor and she promptly flops onto the couch.

Fuckkkkk why was she born this way...?

She let's out a long sigh, the adrenaline draining out of her and with it all her energy too. Maybe she should train more? No way she should be getting this tired from a few punches.

She leans back so that her head is resting comfortably against the arm, closing her eyes. Her nose is throbbing and her body decided this was the best moment to clock her injuries. Everything burns and stings like crazy, for one, she can feel the scratch marks on her arms, how it's starting to ooze with blood, the fresh splits on her knuckles and how they sting after so long without use.

She'll probably have to go make a statement to the police she thinks bitterly, and this is going to turn into such a mess.

Already kind of is one.

The couch dips with someone's weight immediatley snapping her out of her half-sleep daydream. Cassandra lifts her head up so that she can at least look at Carol whilst she fixes her up.

But it's not Carol she looks up to.

Its April's worried face. Leaning over her, one hand hesitating almost touching her arm and med kit in the other. She didnt even hear April come out of her room, plus it had only been like, 2 minutes right? No way she had calmed down.

"I thought your mom was gonna patch me up?"

"O-oh right well-yeah well I can still get her if you want-" April backs off taking her incredibly comforting presence with her and Cassandra panics sitting up so fast her joints creak, she goes dizzy, hand darting out and grabbing her arm before she can leave.

"NO! no no, please don't go i need you to stay, I-I want yout stay."

She can't let her leave, not when she finally spoke to her. Finally *looked* at her, even if she's to tired to parse the meaning in any of it. April stares blankly for a moment, then her entire face crumbles and she buries herself in Cassandra's arms.

"O-oh okay then" April whispers

Shit she has to apologise now, she was to busy thinking about all the hurt to give it any thought.

"I'm so sorry for punching him," she starts. She doesnt know how to apologise this is so much harder than it should be. "i swear i didn't mean for it to get that bad, I didn't mean to break our promise I'm sorry- I really- and I know how important that agreement is to you-"

April lifts her head up suddenly, some of that upset returning in her eyes.

Shit she's messed up *again*.

"Cassandra that dumb agreement isn't important to me *you are* that's the whole reason I made you promise to it in the first place," April breathes in closing her eyes and something pained happens to her face and when her she opens them again they're glassy and wet "i *hate* seeing you hurt more than anything! I'm not mad. I'm upset yeah, you fucked up and you should apologise, but just know your so much more important okay? So so so *so* much more important."

April gently strokes her face down to her jaw and Cassandra won't ever admit she almost started crying again. She doesn't know what to say to that, to something *so sincere*, so unflinchingly warm and brave. Like she doesn't even doubt her opinion for a second, doesn't doubt *Cassandra* for a second. Her throat feels like barbed wire hot and prickly with the tears and cries she's trying to shove down.

"Oh." is all she manages to say and it's so embarrassingly strangled that it's going to keep her up at night. Maybe it says enough though, because April is wrapping her arms around Cassandra's chest like iron bars not even a second later, face in her neck again.

They stay like that for a while, some of Aprils warmth spreading into her, thawing her and relaxing her muscles.

Everything's not over yet, but they've talked it out, silent forgiveness passing through the air. It was comfortable even when she pulled away again and began tending to her bruises and bloody nose.

(she will not admit how much she enjoyed April gently tending to her face)

It's such a nice moment, almost perfect, almost.

"Hey Apricots?"

"Hm?"

"You wanna know what would make this a perfect moment?" Cassandra's says relieved to hear some of that confidence she knows so well in herself return to her vioce, grin stretching across her face slowly.

"I wouldn't exactly say this is a nice moment considering you have a black eye but go on?" April asks playfully packing everything away.

"If we went to see the Stars."

April's head snaps up so fast it's impressive. She shakes Cassandra a little her eyes lighting up.

"Wait girl like really like now like was that geniune??"

She can't help the laugh that tumbles out of her "uhm yeah of course?? If you're okay with driving we can go right now to the barn if you want."

"Oh my god yes of course i can! hold on-hey mama!"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going out with Cassey I'll be back tommorow!" she shouts, already snatching her keys off of the coffee table one leg planted on the floor ready to get up.

"Wait, morning? where are you girls going?"

"Out to the barn-look we'll be back by tommorow promise!"

Cassandra hears her sigh from the kitchen. "well I can't very well stop you girls, you're both 18 so off you go."

"Thanks mama!"

April let's out a squeal of excitement and leaps up taking Cassandra with her.

"oh my god oh my god okay calm down your gonna need a sweater April otherwise you will litterally freeze to death i know what your like" she laughs

holding April's face in her hands, effectively stopping her from moving anywhere else.

But April doesn't answer her right away, she's stopped like deer in headlights looking up at Cassandra all wide eyes and silent, till the older teenager is forced to let go and shake her in hopes of grounding her with reality again.

"OH! Oh um r-right yeah mhm! my bad I'll go grab one!" April looks very sweaty all of the sudden and she wonders if maybe telling her to grab the sweater was a mistake because she looks warm, but she stumbles away to her room before Cassandra can reiterate.

Well that was wierd....

By the time April comes out of her room she's wearing not one of her own sweaters, but one of Cassandra's. It's a deep red (her favourite colour) and its the same sweater that she's been looking for for months, April must have stolen it before the invasion and kept it to herself.

"sorry is that MY favourite sweater your wearing right now?"

She's had that sweater for a very, very, long time. Been through hell and back in it. It has holes in the sleeves, nervously rubbed into them when she was younger. The aglets have been chewed, and there are definatly a few stains of her blood on there somewhere. Although it's her favourite,, it pools around her hands when she tries to hide her laugh behind her sleeves.

Cassandra's heart beats a little faster. Wow, April should wear her sweaters a lot more.

April doesn't answer her just smiles a little wider and skips to the door.

"You ready to go?"

"Yes! Onwards! A journey to the stars awaits us!" She says with gusto and is rewarded when April laughs fully, Causing the older teen to do the same.

________________________

They clamber up onto the roof, scaling the rusty pipe that works it's way from top to bottom of the house, it creaks and moans, bending under April's weight alone it's been years since they've been here they've both grown so much especially Cassandra who's now taller and thicker in muscles.

Qiute giggles echo from the top of the roof where April is watching her raptly and the older teen decides to take that as challenge to get up there quicker and faster.

She does a running jump, putting her boot to the wall, she grabs the pipe heaving herself half the way up and it works!....For about 2 seconds.

"AH FUC-" she slams into the ground and the breathe is punched out of her, the laughter from the top cuts off abruptly.

"O-oh my god wait are you okay?! "

She's to winded to reply and has to compromise with a thumbs up.

Embarrassing.

April laughs and rudely points out that "theres a ladder in the house somewhere isn't there?" just to ruin her dignity a little more

"... Yeah," she huffs, half out breath and half out of playful annoyancy.

April has the nerve to giggle. Asshole.

By the time Cassandra finally gets up to the roof (by ladder embarrassingly enough) April has already laid out Cassandra's jumper and a few blankets and is laying down totally engrossed in the stars above them.

It's not hard to see why, it takes all of but four seconds for Cassandra to flop down next to her and rember why they loved this place so much.

It's a watercolour blur of everything that makes the night sky so beautiful, blues and purples smeared against the pinks and greens, freckled with flecks of bright white constellations.

She gasps softly when she sees it.

She can't belive she went two years without this and a fight with a guy in bowling alley is what kickstarted the visit of all things too.

Thanks I guess.

Cassandra looks over at April. She's totally mezmerized a soft smile on her face and and her eyes skimming over the sky probably naming every constellation in her head.

She nudges the younger teen with her foot "Hey Apes tell me about one of the constellations."

April jolts, looks at Cassandra and then back up at the stars, eyes narrowing in concentrated thought. Her face lights up after few minutes and she clambers upright and crosses the distance between them, scooching right up and snuggling herself right into Cassandras side, head resting on her outstretched arm.

"you see that one right there?" April closes one eyes and slowly drags her finger along in the sky drawing an invisible line where a star constellation is.

"yeahhhh I think so."

"Okay that's good so," april shuffled a little getting more comfortable her voice getting low and soft "those constellations right there are called perseous and Andromeda, they are depicted side by side in the night, lovers outlined in stars." April's voice cracks suddenly," Not one of the things I learnt for JJ for once but actually one of donnies story books hah- ha! Haha "

Cassandra watches horrified as April sobs, half laughing half crying, in what the older teen assumes is stress and hysteria and a lot of built up emotions from almost dying, 5 months of constant moving and fighting and then everything that happened yesterday and all of that coming to a hault, everything's slowed down enough now that she can finally let it all out.

April considers her brothers the most important people in her life, she'd happily be the rock they need to lean on even at her own expense and after something like this, it was almost bound to happen.

Total Raph complex. And Leo. And Mikey. And Donnie. And-

"im-I'm *so*- sorry why am i *crying?*."

Ough this is not Cassandra's strong shit.

Porceed with caution as Donnie would say.... And probably Mikey actually.

Cassandra almost snorts imagine those two both agreeing about something on feelings...

OH MY GOD FOR FUCKS SAKE YOUR SUPPOSED TO BE COMFORTING APRIL.

*SHITTTTTTT*

She's spent far to long being silent but she doesn't dare open up her mouth because words have never been her strong suit but *actions*, actions she can do.

Cassandra opens her arms and nudges April's shoulder because she's turned around now taken her glasses off and viscously rubbing at her eyes. She looks up, all bleary nutmeg eyes and guilt and heartbreak and it tears up Cassandra's heart, but when April dives into her arms and buries her head into Cassandras neck giving into her feelings she ignores all of that in favour of holding her tightly, planning to stay until her legs go numb if April needs it.

________________________

April watches the skye lighten slightly as the night molds and fades into a warm dawn and thinks how lucky she is to have Casey.

She *loves* her.

And for all the teasing and shit her brothers give her for how fallen head over heels she is for this stupid, rambunctious, reckless, loud, caring girl. She's content.

Even if her deeper feelings for Cass aren't and will never be returned, she has no doubt in her mind now that Cassandra loves her. Not after this.

She can't belive she got so emotional about Casey being nice to her and taking her to the stars and being all romantic with her even after she freaked out after that guy hit her, that she actually started crying??

What a bummer.

"Hey Cassie?"

"hm?"

"I love you."

There's a pause, but April doesn't panic and doesn't have to look over at Cassandra to gage her reaction because she *knows* she'll say it back.

"I love you too."

[memidgenotsofteroreasier]

More

If less is more, I’ve been accomplishing my goals. Where to start? My spouse died the day after my brother was put in Hospice Care and my daughter moved in to tend to him. Sister Beckie wasn’t speaking to me. The rage about her current state is manifold. Macular Degeneration (the family curse), Osteoporosis (the result of a host of bad decisions), and mental illness (which should be in ALL CAPS). My brother specified in his will that he wants someone to live in his house until the cat dies. Then what? By the way, the cat came to my house and she is called Marabella, a tortoise-calico whose markings are only equaled by her neediness.

Mercifully, Jack designated an executor from his AA group. She is spending his money on the renovation, which is extensive. Even the kitchen cabinets went! The only appliance left is the stove. In a time of supply chain issues, I don’t mind waiting for the flooring, the bathrooms (black mold!), and other indoor work to be completed. The place is painted. I like their choice of colors.

Are these good problems to have or have I taken a long walk off a short pier? The yard was raked (heavy equipment! Everything slopes toward the house!) and there will need to be a French [named after the man, not the country] Drain or other catchment basins for sequestering what moisture we can in the 1/4 acre lot. In front, concrete dominates the approach, which is a pity. There used to be a planter in front of the bedroom window of the ranch-style home with fireplace.

No trees, only the nasty customer called Arundo (bamboo) that will. Not. Die. It’s a clean slate. I have plants in pots here that I can take there. An apricot tree, a couple of citrus that are barely hanging on, setting fruit in their above-ground planter pots. A Crape Myrtle that needs a better home (and has a polite growth habit, not like the thug that was a Brazilain Pepper tree and by the garage, a Japanese Black Pine, both of which were affecting the foundation.

I rue the removal of a majestic African Giant Bird of Paradise and a Cape Honeysuckle, but these are not natives. The Agave patch was native, but one is plenty and 20 are impenetrable. My brother-in-law has more in his postage-stamp of a yard in Mission Hills where the streets have alphabetical bird names beginning with Albatross. The City’s first plant nursery, founded by Kate Sessions herself, is in their neighborhood. But I digress. There’s always more.

[majahu]

Scream: Ski Trip

Chapter 8: Mommy Issues

Content Warning:

Violence, swearing, reference to SA, gore.

Chapter 7

I hope you all liked the last chapter featuring Sidney’s perspective! Back to your POV for this one though! If the content above triggers you, feel free to skip this chapter. If you are familiar with the plot of Scream, skipping this one shouldn’t have an impact on the story :).

Word Count: 1099

Your eyes flickered open, the world around you a blur of shapes and colors. There was a sharp ringing in your ears and voices you couldn't quiet focus in on buzzed around your head. One voice was yelling, while the other had a more subdued tone. Your head throbbed as you strained to focus on the conversation. You blinked a few times, trying to orient yourself. You were laying on your side on the wooden cabin floor.

How did you end up on the ground?

Somewhat unfamiliar with your surroundings, you tried to make out where you were in the cabin. Ahead of you, still somewhat blurry, was the living room table, a magazine laid on the floor at its base, knocked over in the earlier scuffle. The bodies of your classmates were no longer scattered on the floor, having been moved off somewhere beyond your vision, but patches of deep red still marked the carpet. Your wrists were bound behind your back, rope cutting into your wrists. You groaned and the conversation that had been going on around you stopped. A pair of black chuck taylors walked over to you, their owner bending down to lift you up and prop your seated body against the leg of the couch.

Your bruised body, still sore from skiing and your earlier struggle, protested at this but you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to give your attackers the satisfaction of seeing you squirm.

You glared into the honey brown eyes of Billy Loomis, who now crouched in front of you, twisting a butcher knife between his finger tips. "How are you feeling?" He said, as if you weren't tied up in front of him, as if him and his BFF weren't a pair of psychotic killers. "You tried getting away from us and Stu shoved you a little too hard..." he shot a glare at someone standing in your periphery. "Hit your head. I thought you died for a second," he grinned. You said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"Man, where were we... I think you were just about to tell us where Sidney was hiding. We searched the whole cabin for her." You thought about telling him that maybe she had escaped, opening your mouth to speak when it occurred to you that, if Sidney had escaped they wouldn't need you anymore. The hope of Sidney hiding in the cabin was the only chance you had at being kept alive, otherwise Stu and Billy would have killed you and run for the hills.

"Go to hell." You spat.

"That's not very nice," Stu said, moving to the couch you were propped up against, kicking your thigh white the toe of his shoe as he sat down.

"Why are you doing this?" You looked between the two of them, trying to see if there was something unspoken hanging in the air around you.

"Hear that Stu, she wants a motive!" Billy chuckled, standing up and pacing around the couch. "You know, some killers don't even have a motive? Isn't that scary?" Though he was behind you now, you knew he was grinning.

"Well," he paused briefly, stopping to stand behind the couch, "it all started with Sid's mom, but I guess the rest were just for fun." The color drained from your face as your realized what Billy was implying, "M-Mrs. Prescott? But- but why?" You turned your head to look up at Stu, eyes wide in further disbelief that your friends could have done this to people you thought they had cared about. "She wasn't as nice of a lady as everyone thinks she was!" Billy spat, pacing again, coming back to crouch down in front of you. This time you didn't meet his eyes, you couldn't look at him.

"Look at me," he said, bringing a hand to rest under your chin. You acted like you didn't hear him, eyes boring holes into the wall.

"Look at me!" Tightening his grip on your chin, and pulling your face closer to his, forcing your eyes to meet his. They looked darker now, more threatening. He leaned in, face inches from your own, "what's the fun in telling you a story when I can't even hear your reaction?" He said sweetly. Letting go of your face, he moved backwards, giving you space to breathe. "We did that woman a favor." He said, bitterness returning to his voice. "She was a slut bag whore who flashed her shit all around town like she was Sharon fucking stone!" "And she was no Sharon Stone!" Stu interrupted, laughing. Your heartbeat quickened at the malice in the voices of your former friends, they were quickly becoming people you no longer recognized. Billy leaned in to your ear, slowly twisting a lock of your hair between his fingers. "Did you know," he said slowly, carefully, "that Sid's slut mother was sleeping with my dad?" You shook your head, "No, I-"

"Shh, shh, no... don't respond, not yet."

"You know, she's the reason my mom moved out and deserted me. That fucking whore. She took my mother, so I took hers."

Tears streamed down your cheeks, "your mother leaving you is not the same as Sidney's being fucking dead!" You cried out, instantly regretting your words as Billy brought his hand to your throat, squeezing so hard he began to cut off your airway.

"Maybe we'll carve you up just like we did to her and send Sid a little message, huh?" Billy said playfully. "Do we get to do the fun part too?" Stu perked up. Your heart pounded as your recalled the details of Mrs. Prescott's murder.

"Don't you ever know when to shut up, fuckwad?" Billy groaned. "God, I hope Sid's hiding somewhere she can hear all of this."

"So you did this all just to get back at her for something she didn't do?"

"Maternal abandonment seriously fucks you up. It made Sid have sex with a psychopath." He let go of your throat and you inhaled, letting air fill your lungs again.

You shot a disgusted look Billy's way but didn't dare open your mouth again.

Come on, Sid. I don't know if I can keep him talking forever.

You twisted your wrists against the ropes, trying to curl your fingers up to start picking at the knot holding your restraints in place.

"We have her dad tied up in the garage and everything. The perfect suspect. Now," Billy leaned in, pressing the knife against your chest, not quite hard enough to draw blood, "Tell us where our girl is."

[kohakuarisaka]

Trial By Fire (chapter 1 of 2)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Hawks stopped by your apartment, asking for a patch up, and then asked for so much more.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Role reversal: Keigo is a villain and Touya is a hero. Liberties were taken with Hawks’ quirk and is non-canon compliant. This fic is not nice to Touya. Reader and Hawks smoke. Reader has a quirk. Reader is a female with descriptive female genitalia. This fic contains graphic sexual content, including penis in vagina sex, oral sex, spanking, dirty talk, biting, degradation, and knotting. Consensual ♥

Keigo’s appearance in this fic was inspired by this lovely art piece!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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You hadn't heard him approach, not his footsteps, nor the flutter of his wings. It was a little windy tonight; but, that wasn't why you hadn't heard him. He was just that good at sneaking around, or maybe you were just that lost in thought.

Suddenly, the cigarette in your hand was plucked out of your grasp. You followed the burning bud and watched a calloused hand bring it to a pair of soft lips that weren't yours.

He took a drag, looking at you innocently, before huffing the smoke out through his nostrils.

Sometimes, you really hated how weak you were for him. Even when he deserved it, you couldn't bring yourself to get mad at him. Maybe, it was his stupid beautiful face, or his mismatched eyes, or those wondrous crimson feathers.

"What are you doing, pretty bird?" you scolded him softly, reaching out to take your cigarette back.

Hawks let you, and some deluded part of your mind told you it tasted better after his mouth had touched it. Still, you turned away from him, finding it difficult to think properly when he was staring at you like that, his gaze soft and his lips quirked into a faint smirk.

In the distance, a car was honking obnoxiously. You peered down at the streets below and watched the traffic lights change colors.

"Was hoping you'd patch me up?" he asked, perhaps a little too sweetly. "Or is Touya gonna find out and arrest my ass?"

You sighed and gave him a dirty look in the corner of your eye. "No. It's over between us. He isn't gonna be comin' around," you retorted, a little venomously.

"Ohh," he whistled. "What happened? Must'a been bad. You were always so far up his ass."

"Get stuffed," you spat back at him.

He laughed in response to that. It was a little louder than expected, and you could see his shoulders trembling in the corner of your eye. Hawks leaned against the railing next you, matching your posture.

Before he could take it again, you remove your cigarette from your lips and brought it to his. He snatched it from your grasp with his mouth and took a careful drag before lifting his hand to pull it away. You watched the smoke drain from his mouth before looking away again.

"You wanna talk about it?" Hawks offered. Strangely, he sounded sincere.

"As much as I wanna get fisted by sandpaper," you replied hoarsely.

"Shit," he grumbled.

You let out a loud sigh. "There's nothing to talk about. I just couldn't take it anymore," you explained.

In the corner of your eye, you could see Hawks staring at you as if he was trying to decrypt your words or decipher your expression. You avoided his stare for just a little bit longer before finally giving in and turning to face him.

When you looked at him, he returned your cigarette to your lips, or tried to anyway, but you took it with your hand. It was almost burnt out, but had enough left for one more drag, which you took slowly.

"You're hurt?" you asked him softly before turning around to burry your burnt up cigarette in the nearby ash tray.

"Not too bad. I'll fuck right off if you want me to," Hawks replied.

Sometimes, you didn't really think his superpower was his feathers, but just how he managed to always show up at the perfect time. Maybe, someone to talk to was what you needed, even if you told yourself you didn't.

Ending things with Touya was exactly what had to be done to try to get back on track with your pitiful life; but, that didn't mean that everything would be magically okay again, that wounds would just heal and every trace of him would be gone forever.

But, you weren't childish enough to think that anyone could save you from that. No, you had to save yourself.

"Come on, pretty bird," you tossed over your shoulder.

Hawks hated when anyone called him that, except you. Maybe because anyone who called him that did so to put him down, to emasculate him. But, you called him that because you actually meant it. He was so, so pretty. Or, maybe, he just had a soft spot for the girl he used to bum cigarettes off of.

The winged villain followed you down the stairwell to your room. He made a grumbly cooing sound, like a hum in chest, when he stepped inside.

"Place looks great."

It had been quite a shithole the last time he was here. You scrubbed the walls and floors, replaced most of the furniture, gutted out the shitty kitchen cabinets and replaced them. It did look great.

"Thanks," you hummed, pushing at his shoulders until he obeyed and plopped down on the couch.

You sat down next to him and didn't bother asking what was wrong, but just began sliding your hands down the arm of his leather jacket, pushing it up to his elbow to expose his forearm.

You worked your hands over his skin, using your quirk to navigate his nervous system. Your eyes went glossy and distant as you did so, staring at him without actually looking at him. Hawks was patient, watching you work.

"You broke some ribs," you observed quietly. "The gash on your back isn't infected, but your blood cell count is low. You have a cavity forming, too, you manchild."

Hawks burst out laughing. "Do I need to call a dentist?"

"No," you laughed softly. "I'll take care of it." You let go of his arm and looked up at him, head tilting slightly. "Mind if I go by your neck? It's easier closer to the spine."

"Sure. I like choking," he teased.

"Tch," you grimaced at him. "Shut up."

He laughed softly in response to that. Despite his teasing, you still shimmied in closer and reached up, sliding your hands one either side of his neck. His skin was soft. Even the healed burn marks were soft.

Your eyes went glossy again as you focused on the task at hand. Hawks made a low, grumbling hiss as you pulled the injuries from his body, focusing first on his broken ribs.

It hurt like a fucking bitch, feeling each one crack back into proper place. Where your hands touched him was cold as ice; but, it was just an illusion, a side effect of your quirk, a sensation without the actual stimulation.

The wound on his back followed, muscles and skin tissue forming back over into proper place. That didn't hurt as bad, and felt more like a dull ache in comparison. You took care of his cavity, too, which he noticed like a stab in the mouth.

You were done, and Hawks knew you were done. The icy cold touch of your hands had subsided, and the warmth of your skin returned. Still, you didn't let go right away. Your vision returned and you peered up at him, and he looked down at you just the same.

The left side of Hawks face was covered in a scar, a healed burn. It started at the center of his forehead, traveled across the bridge of his nose, took most of his cheek, but just barely missed his lips.

The burn continued down his jaw, onto his shoulder. You had seen him shirtless before, and knew it extended down his chest, ending somewhere at his waist.

Along with that burn, his left eye had been blanched, now pale white instead of the golden, sunlight hue of the one on right. He could still see out of it, just not as well as the undamaged one.

Still, despite all that, he was so, so-

-beautiful.

"All done," you sighed, letting go of him and standing up, turning away from him maybe a little quickly.

"Thanks," he grunted, watching you rise to your feet.

He reached for you; but, you had already stepped too far away and eluded his touch. It wasn't intentional. Your back was turned and you didn't even see it. Yet, your sudden retreat made him feel an unpleasant ache in his chest, and another, very different sort of ache somewhere else.

"It's gettin' kind'a late, so-" you started, heading for the hallway that connected to your bedroom.

Hawks was fast, dangerously so, and was suddenly right beside you. His wing jutted out and smacked into the wall, blocking your path. Your eyes shifted to his, not entirely surprised by his actions. Maybe you should have been. But, he was the kind who liked attention, especially from you.

"Are you alright?" he asked, crossing his arms loosely over his chest.

"No," you deadpanned. "There's a birdman loitering in my house."

That seemed to calm him a little, for he pulled his wing back, lips twitching into a faint smile. However, he replaced his wing with his body, blocking you from continuing down the hall.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around lately," he began, surprising you a little with the sincerity in his tone.

"I get it," you answered immediately, with just a bit of bite.

Life led people down different paths. Touya was following in the footsteps of his dear father to become a great hero. Hawks ended up joining a league of supervillains and was wanted for murder, amongst other things.

-and you worked a 9 to 5.

Maybe, facing down one of Japan's most wanted villains should have been frightening. Being trapped with him in your apartment probably also should have been frightening.

He was a dangerous criminal and on a power level than most could never even dream of. But, you trusted Hawks more than you trusted most people... most heroes.

By the look on his face, there was something he wanted to say; but, it didn't come out.

"What's with the constipated look?" you blurted.

The compressed look on his face softened and Hawks threw his head back, letting out rolling laughter. His hands clutched his tummy and his shoulders trembled. Maybe, that was your real power: making him laugh like that, to the point tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

"I missed you," he stated plainly when he finally stopped laughing.

"Y-yeah, me too, pretty bird," you replied softly, tearing your gaze away from him.

"I hate when you call me that," he murmured.

Hawks stepped towards you and you reeled back. His wings came up on either side of you, forcing you to duck back and hit the wall to avoid him. The bright red plumes towered on either side, caging you in, trapping you with him.

Yet, you weren't scared or perturbed. Hawks liked to play, after all. Even when you were kids, he would fly after you and tackle you to the ground, laughing about what terrible prey you were, always so easily caught.

"No, you don't," you retorted gently.

There was still some distance between you, just enough that you'd have to extend your arm to reach him. His wingspan was massive and the soft, red quills were like curtains caging you in, absolutely gorgeous.

"I'm not good at this sort'a thing," Hawks began, murmuring softly into the darkness of the hallway. His face was cast in shadows, but his eyes were bright, pale white and sun kissed gold.

"Formalities and playin' nice," he added on, a little hoarsely.

You knew where this was going.

"You want Touya's sloppy seconds?" you asked him lowly.

Immediately, it was clear that he didn't like what you said. His eyes narrowed and he stepped in closer.

Hawks might have only been a couple inches taller than you and while he certainly was muscular, he wasn't a hulking beast. Still, he managed to make you feel so small.

His hand landed on the wall behind you with a smack, and it startled you a little.

"Don't fucking say things like that," he snarled.

You gawked up at him, surprised that something like that would upset him.

"You're more than that - a lot fucking more," he added on lowly.

It was only then that you realized he wasn't just mad, he was hurt. He had been your closest friend since you were 13, back when you were stealing cigarettes from upper classmen and sneaking into R-rated movies.

-and he had to watch Touya have you.

"What do you want from me?" you asked him, voice low, a harsh whisper, and it shuddered out of you.

"Everything," Hawks replied in a harsh whisper.

You couldn't help but lick your lips at that proposition.

He stepped in closer, sliding his forearms against the wall on either side of your head. The closeness forced you to crane your head back to look up at him.

"You want me, too," he commented lowly, peering down at you like a hawk circling above an unsuspecting prey.

"I let you in here because I care about you. Don't be so arrogant," you scolded him softly, lacking any real authority to your tone.

"Then, tell me to fuck off," Hawks challenged you.

You stared up at him, lips unmoving. His feathers picked up the faint change in your breathing pattern, just the slightest bit of acceleration. Even if you didn't say it, your body gave it away: this was exciting you.

He was one of the most powerful villains in Japan; but, you were his greatest weakness. He'd do anything you asked, deliver the world to you if it was what you wanted.

"You want this," Hawks murmured darkly, as if he had just made some grand discovery.

His eyes flickered down from your face to below, signaling what he was talking about.

He was hovering with just enough space between you that you could tilt your head down to investigate his claim and take a glance at the tent he was pitching, pressing against the zipper on his black cargo pants.

When your eyes moved up and caught his gaze, you felt hypnotized by the dark stare he had focused on you.

Hawks didn't look expectant or desperate. He looked hungry, yes, but there was some hope to that stare, maybe even the faintest bit of sorrow in those mismatched eyes.

He didn't want to be rejected by you. But, he didn't want you if you didn't want him back.

There probably should have been a little voice in the back of your head telling you not to do this. There had to be some sort of negative repercussion, right?

But, all you could hear was the rattle of the heater in the other room and the shuffling of your neighbors in the room above.

Normally, your thoughts ran rampant with worries, negativities and fears. All had been silent since Hawks arrived. He just had that sort of effect on you, clearing your thoughts with nothing but his presence.

Expectantly, you tilted your head back and parted your lips slightly. Hawks leaned in, following the temptation you presented him with.

Maybe, it would have been wisest to remain as just friends. Even if you tried to tell yourself otherwise, this would change that forever: a door would open that could never be closed.

But, you weren't kids anymore.

"If I kiss you, I won't be able to stop," he promised, or threatened, warm breath fanning over your cheeks.

He smelt like the cigarette he stole from you earlier. It made you all the more eager to taste him.

"Last chance," he added, voice low and hoarse.

"What happens if I say yes?" you dared to ask, eyes peering up at him almost innocently.

You watched Hawks' throat bob. "What happens if you say yes..." he parroted lowly.

The predatory gaze he gave you reminded you that he was a bird of prey and you might as well have been a mouse.

"I'm gonna fuck you like no one ever has before," he began, the words falling from his mouth in a sultry whisper. "Stuff you stupid with my cock, cum so deep inside you that you feel me for days. My name will be the only god-damned thing you remember when I'm done with you."

Oh.

"Promise?" you whispered hoarsely, leaning up a little to try and reach his lips.

You must have been making quite the lewd expression, for Hawks' eyes pinched with amusement.

Hawks tilted his head down. "Promise," he agreed in a whisper, breathed against your lips.

This must have been what it felt like for a spark to meet gunpowder.

Something as simple as a kiss had sent a powerful shockwave down your spine. Your skin prickled all over, flushed with a sudden need to be touched. Your heart began thundering away in your chest and you unconsciously released a very pathetic little sound.

His feathers picked up the rage of your heartbeat and he couldn't resist a shudder, aroused at the excitement he had give you with just the press of his lips.

In a split second, he had his body pressing against yours, flush from shoulder to thigh, pinning you to the wall. Your hands weaved through his hair, pulling him down to crush your mouths together.

It was probably the sloppiest kiss you ever had: a little violent, crushing, and wet. But, nothing could even compare to what this felt like, the taste of him mingled with tobacco, to the way it made you feel like you could melt.

His hands grabbed at your thighs and hoisted you up off the ground. He slammed your back roughly against the wall, cores pinned tightly together, and perched your legs on either side of his waist.

"You feel that?" Hawks breathed, lips touching the shell of your ear.

It was clear what he was referring to: his clothed erection rutting shamelessly against your clothed cunt.

"Every time I see you take a drag, I get fucking hard," he confessed, pulling back to chuckle a little. "Maybe that's why I always stole 'em: fucking jealous."

Before you could get a word out, his head dipped down and took your mouth again. Your hands dragged down his back, clawing at his jacket, threatening to venture further.

Hawks pulled back violently, bumping his forehead against yours to force your gaze to meet his.

"You touch my wings and you're gonna get something you can't fucking handle," he threatened, the words rumbling out of his chest like gravel in a cement mixer.

You looked back with a drunk expression, partially frightened by his threat and partially curious to what that entailed. It resulted in a ridiculously lewd expression on your face.

"All I've done is kiss you, and you already look like that," he observed with intrigue, chuckling softly.

"All I've done is smoke, and you're hard," you retorted sharply, leaning in to bite at his bottom lip.

He hummed, amused at your teasing; that sound, however, died out when you dipped your hands down into his shoulder blades and slid up, brushing the baby feathers that jutted out of his skin.

Hawks let out an almost inhuman sound, head tilting back and moaning, eyes fluttering shut, as his entire body vibrated against you. You stopped, hands shifting away from his feathers, surprised by his reaction.

Immediately, his head fell forward and he settled a frightening glare on you. The growl that emanated from within his chest sent a violent tremor down your spine.

"Oooohhh," he cooed hoarsely, the sound rumbling through his throat. "You don't want me to be nice, do ya'?"

The question went unanswered, for Hawks rolled his hips, pressing your clothed sexes together. Your hands flew up, grabbing at his wings again, fingers tangling in the feathers for purchase.

The friction was nice; but, it wasn't good enough, and Hawks seemed to have that same thought process, for he removed you from the wall and carried you to the bedroom.

He tossed you down on the bed like you were a toy and watched your body bounce a little with an amused look on his face.

You shrieked when red plumes departed his wingspan and swarmed your body. They surrounded you in a wispy tornado before descending, tracing your skin softly and pushing under the hem of your clothes with purpose.

The brief moment of fear washed away when they carefully, albeit swiftly, worked your clothes off. Your arms were forced above your head so your shirt could be discarded while other feathers peeled your pants and underwear down your legs.

Hawks watched, standing at the bedside with a starving expression as his crimson feathers exposed you for him. You didn't take yourself for the shy type, but something about the whole thing had your skin prickled with embarrassment.

Once they were done, his feathers retreated, returning to his wingspan like good little soldiers. Hawks approached, sliding his knees onto the edge of the bed.

Before he could arch over you, your foot flung up and you flattened it against his chest, pushing in protest.

"You, too," you tried to demand. Unfortunately, it came out breathless and desperate.

Hawks eyes shifted from your heated gaze, trailing down to shamelessly take in the sight of your sex, now exposed due to the position of your leg. Instinctively, you wanted to close your legs at that predatory stare. But, somehow, you found the strength to resist.

He hummed and stood back, returning to his feet. You leaned up to watch him work his jacket and shirt off, wings shuddering to peel the fabric away before dropping the materials carelessly to the floor.

He seemed caught off guard by your sudden advance as you got up on your knees at the bedside to reach for him. Your hands landed on his pectorals, shamelessly squeezing at his muscles before drifting down, fingers gently digging into his abs as you traced the outlines.

"Are you having fun?" he laughed.

You were about to answer, but he suddenly grabbed your wrists and brought your hands down to his belt. He didn't have to demand anything, you started working at the buckle, eagerly working the clasp open and undoing his pants.

His mouth opened, likely to spew teasing words. Whatever was going to come out failed him when you suddenly palmed his erection over the fabric of his boxers.

"F-fuck," he groaned, leaning into you suddenly as if he was going to fall over. "Damn brat," he added on in a snarl.

"Are you touch starved, pretty bird?" you murmured, tilting your head to nibble at his jawline.

The red that tinted his the tops of his ears failed to hide the truth from you. It had been a little while, just long enough to make him hungry for it.

Suddenly, he pushed you down on the bed. You flung over with a startled yelp and felt his hands pry your legs apart, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs.

He flung your legs up over his shoulders, careless that your feet knocked against his wings, and buried his face between your thighs.

"AH!" you cried out, startled by the sudden sensation of his textured tongue lapping along your slit.

Normally, when someone ate you out, there was some finesse to it, tongue tracing delicately, some soft kisses, just barely lapping at your slit as if you were a dainty little flower.

Not with Hawks. He was smearing his tongue all over the place, lapping at your slippery folds as if he was starving and this was the only meal he'd had in weeks.

You didn't mean to, but in the process of grounding your heels against his back, your toes curled and touched his feathers. You felt his wings flap once and his back muscles tremble.

He leaned back and peered down your body, taking in the look of your aroused expression with a pleased sigh. You felt delirious, wearing a lost look on your face, and he looked damn proud with your wetness smeared across his cheeks.

"Hawks-" you squeaked.

"A meal fit for a king," he praised you in a hoarse voice, tilting his head back down to continue where he left off.

Trying to get on some equal grounds, you twisted your foot and poked at his feathers with your toes. His shoulders twitched, so you continued, digging in as best you could considering the awkward positioning.

Hawks moaned at the touch, the sound vibrating against the folds of your sex. He probably would have scolded you if his mouth wasn't preoccupied. Instead, he pushed back on your thighs, forcing your legs a little higher, until you couldn't reach his wings anymore.

He fucked you with his tongue, mouth suctioned around your opening and slurping lewdly. It was a strange sensation you weren't quite used to, but it felt amazing.

It was clear that he wasn't doing it out of obligation. He did it because he fucking wanted to, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. When he needed a break from your core, he lapped his tongue up your folds, smearing wetness all over the place.

He purposely avoided your pearl until he was confident it was throbbing, the tiny bud forced on display with lewd the way he held your legs apart.

You practically screamed when his tongue finally touched it, hands pulling at the bedsheets beneath you and making a mess, pillows and blankets going askew.

Hawks groaned, mainly because the sound made his cock throb painfully in his pants. He ignored that ache and focused on lapping at your little button, not relenting, even when you were trembling and sobbing.

At the risk of your feet getting touchy again, Hawks dropped one of your legs, needing a free hand to bring you to peak ecstasy. He hardly had to force the calloused digits inside. Your squishy walls took him in eagerly.

"Fuck, Hawks," you sobbed, struggling to remain still.

He leaned back, just enough to get some words out. "Come for me," he uttered hoarsely.

You whimpered at the command, head falling back into the sheets. He had been getting you there before he even said anything, even when it was just his tongue. But, now, with his thick fingers drilling into you and voice making such demands, you felt it approaching like a speeding truck.

"I said fucking come," he added on with a demanding, low growl. "Come on my fucking face. I wanna taste it."

He growled into your sex, loud and rumbling like thunder while his wings flapped once, knocking some things off your walls. The loud noise was a little startling, but didn't break the spell.

He kept up the pace with his fingers, even when the slippery mess of your slick dribbled down his knuckles, and his tongue returned to your pearl, lapping at it roughly.

Your orgasm started in a small wave, rolling over you once, twice, before crashing down and forcing a bizarre concoction of moans, sobs, and whimpers to pour from your lips.

Hawks was unwavering, tongue and fingers working you over expertly through the whole thing, until you sagged on the sheets and stopped whining.

He pulled back and stood up, setting your legs down on the bed. You looked up at him dizzily, and watched him lick his fingers and knuckles clean as if he had spilt some treat on them.

It was such a shamelessly erotic display and left you trembling.

When he was done, he dragged his palm down his chin, wiping your essence away. He caught you staring, of course, and quirked his lips into a prideful smirk.

"Nothing smart to say?" he uttered teasingly. "'Thank you, Hawks'?" he suggested with a warm chuckle.

He had pulled his wings back in; but, there was no way to miss that he was holding them up just a little bit higher than normal. If you weren't so blissed out and eager for more, you probably would have laughed at such a blatant display of dominance.

He was still in the state you had left him in, pants hanging limply around his waist, erection pressing eagerly against his boxers, belt undone and dangling at his thigh.

Hawks lifted his dominant hand and wagged his index and middle finger, beckoning for you to approach. After that mind numbing orgasm, you didn't dare refuse and shimmied over to the edge of the bed.

"I deserve a reward for that, don't you think?" he suggested, that predatory expression taking over his face again as he looked down at you.

"Say 'please'," you challenged him softly, looking up through your eyelashes.

"Hmmm," rumbled out of his throat. He sounded amused, maybe even a little impressed.

You expected something snarky when he opened his mouth. Surprisingly, he uttered a sultry, "please."

You didn't plan on denying him even if he disobeyed; but, after hearing that, there was no way in hell you would dare refuse.

Your hands pushed his pants down his thighs, simultaneously leaning in to mouth at his clothed erection.

Hawks drew in air sharply, like a low hiss, before drawling out, "fuckin' tease."

In all fairness, he hadn't held out on his services for very long; so, you pushed at him, until he relented and let you turn him around. His butt hit the edge of the bed as you settled on your knees on the floor, between his thighs.

You were supposed to be ridding him of his clothes. However, in the desperation to see what he was hiding, you simply pulled his boxers down, until his cock sprang free.

Staring at it like an idiot would have probably pleased his ego; but, you opted to wrap your lips around the tip and take him in your mouth promptly. You went down just a little too eagerly, and nearly choked; but, it was worth it to hear the strangled sound he made.

"F-" he hissed through clenched fangs, "-uuuck."

You stroked what your mouth couldn't fit, starting off sloppily to get him slicked up well enough to make the glide easier. Your eyes fluttered shut, concentrating on the task at hand, and to make every little noise he made just a little clearer.

He was breathing harshly through his nose, groaning out the occasional curse, before he opted to just blurt what was on his mind.

"Daydreamed about this all the fucking time," Hawks grunted.

Maybe, that sort of thing should have been concerning; but, if you were being honest with yourself, your thoughts of him weren't always so pure, either. Sometimes, laying in bed alone at night, masturbating, it was easy to start thinking about his long, calloused fingers, and wonder what kind of things he would say.

Hawks had one hand gripped at the edge of the bed, while his other weaved carefully through your hair. You expected a painful, demanding grip; but, he was surprisingly gentle, touching you with a sort of adoration.

"Yeeahhh," he groaned, the word undulating as it exited his chest.

"Fuck, you look so cute like that," he praised, pushing your hair out of your face so he could admire the lewd expression you were wearing, lips spread wide over his girth.

"I bet you were curious, huh?" he uttered arrogantly. "Bet you wondered how big it w-" He cut off, moaning lowly when your tongue flattened along the underside and lapped at the thick vein there.

"Does it - aghn - taste better than a heroes?" he taunted in an amused, gravely voice. He even laughed a little at his own crudeness, albeit briefly.

As you drew back, you suctioned tightly, maybe to punish him, or because you were spurred on by such vulgar words. You weren't sure which. His hips lifted off the bed, chasing the sensation, and he moaned shamelessly loud into your dimly lit bedroom.

It startled you a little when you suddenly felt something staring to swell at the base of his cock, fingers smoothing it over curiously.

Just as quickly as you felt it, Hawks hand rotated from the top of your head to the underside of your jaw, pulling you back and forcing you off his cock. The fleshy sound your mouth made echoed around the room.

When you peered up at him, it seemed he was as caught off guard as you were. His mouth was hanging open, cheeks tinted pink, fangs bared while labored breaths wisped through them.

Did he want an answer? You were ready to tell him that he did taste good, when he suddenly leaned down. His arms wove beneath yours, and he hoisted you off the floor, spinning you around and tossing you onto the bed, almost carelessly.

He quickly rid himself of his clothes as you bounced atop the sheets, and climbed on top of you, forcing your legs up and onto his hips.

Just a little dizzy, you were surprised when he suddenly slotted over you, his mouth colliding with yours. He barely gave you a single kiss before shoving his tongue inside.

Your tongue joined his, sliding together in a pointless dance. You felt him lean down, the warmth of his body caressing yours. Hawks weaved one arm around your head possessively, while his other slid up your side, fingers dancing along your ribs.

You expected him to just ram into you. That was usually how this went. But, he was proving to be unlike any other man you had been with before. You could feel his cock jabbing into your thigh, throbbing with need; but, he seemed more concentrated with another task at the moment.

The kiss went on, and on, and on, as if he hadn't already kissed you senseless earlier. He seemed enraptured by the taste.

One of your hands fell onto his shoulder, while the other slid up to cup his face. You weren't really thinking about the where, until your fingertips touched leathery skin. Hawks flinched as if you had hurt him, and you realized you were touching the burnt half of his face.

He pulled back harshly from the kiss with a wet smack and stared down at you. He looked like he was trying to be mad, like a retort was hot on the tip of his tongue. But, instead, he just looked lost.

You stared up at him, unable to hold back just the slightest tinge of fear, afraid that the moment was ruined, that the spell had been broken, that you had crossed a line that Hawks didn't want you to cross.

But, then, he leaned into your palm, surrendering something that went unspoken. Your thumb smoothed over his cheekbone and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"Hawks?" you hummed, wondering how long it had been since someone touched him there, touched skin tinged red and scarred over, forever a reminder of the past.

His eyes fluttered shut as your hand explored, down his jaw, down the side of his neck, over his shoulder, touching places he had once been burned. He dipped his head down, brushing his cheek against yours. You trembled at the sensation of his soft, short beard hairs tickling your skin.

It seemed he had grown impatient, for he tilted his hips up and slid forward, until the tip of his member brushed your folds. Your head fell back with a sigh and you tightened your legs around his waist expectedly, eagerly awaiting him to finally take you.

But, Hawks was unmoving, hovering. His lips nibbled at the shell of your ear before you felt his warm breath as he uttered lowly, drawling out the words, "beg for it."

He was so close, you could feel his chest vibrate with each syllable. You gazed over his shoulder, down his back, where his wings fanned out beautifully behind him. The appendages were tense, fingers bristled tensely.

When you didn't answer fast enough, Hawks reeled his hand away from your side. His palm collided with your ass and a smacking sound echoed around the room, immediately followed by your pained yelp.

"I said," he snarled, "beg for this cock."

It was far more arousing than it was menacing, and it was clear, despite the anger he was displaying, that he was pleased by your refusal to immediately obey. It meant he got to punish you, to drag this out a little longer, to play with you some more.

You bit your lip and delayed giving him the answer he wanted, skin prickled with excitement at the thought of what would follow.

"Are you tryin' to piss me off?" he asked lowly, tilting his head back to look at your face.

He didn't look mad. He looked painfully aroused, cheeks tinted pink, eyes taking in your lewd expression hungrily, fangs bared through slightly parted lips, where he drew in sharp breaths.

"I-" you began.

He either guessed you were going to sass him, or just decided he didn't care what the response was going to be. His hand collided with your backside again, just a tiny bit rougher than last time.

Your eyes pinched shut and you cried out again, body jerking slightly from the touch. Even with your eyes closed, you could picture the smirk he wore at witnessing your response.

Hawks leaned down, nose nudging at the soft spot behind your ear.

"Last chance," he whispered, almost tauntingly. "Beg. For. This. Cock," he added on lowly, almost snarling into the skin of your neck.

You probably couldn't have suppressed that shudder if you were dead, and Hawks felt it. His wings twitched behind him and he groaned softly, pleased by your reaction.

To taunt you further, his hips nudged forward, just until his tip breached your entrance. At the sound of a sweet moan leaving your mouth, he pulled back, then pushed back in, again and again, not breaching you past the tip.

It was sweet, delicious torture.

"Okay," you hissed out, unable to take it anymore.

You tilted your head, lips trailing along his jaw, kissing at the soft, short hairs there, until you found his ear.

"Keigo," you growled.

Immediately, you felt the way he stiffened above you, muscles going tight beneath your hands. A barely audible gasp escaped him.

It had been a while since someone said his name. He was the villain Hawks, now. Keigo was dead, according to him... but not to you. The blonde haired boy with crimson wings and big smile would never die as long as you were alive to remember him.

"Please give me your cock," you uttered softly, lips moving against the shell of his ear as you spoke.

Surprisingly, you didn't hate how desperate you sounded. If it sounded sweet in your ears, then you could only imagine how it sounded to him.

You had barely finished your sentence before he was shoving his hips forward, filling you to the brim in a split second. Your voice was caught in your throat, but Hawks let out a startlingly loud sound, bellowing out a roar into the darkness of your bedroom.

You trembled beneath him, shaken by his roar and by his girth filling your insides. His wings twitched fiercely, lifting up into the air for a brief second before fluttering back down to a relaxed position.

"Oohh, fuck," Hawks wheezed.

He gave you, or maybe it was for himself, a second to breathe before he started moving, pistoning in and out of your heat fiercely: halfway out, back to the brim, the skin of your hips smacking together noisily.

One of his hands had purchase on your thigh, holding on for dear life, while his other hand was fisted in the bedsheets by your head, the grip looking tight enough to rip the fabric.

Your legs were hoisted high on his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. Your nails dragged down the backs of his shoulders, leaving behind pale impressions, and nearing his wings.

No one said it, but you both felt it: finally.

Destiny, soulmates, and all that nonsense was bullshit to you. Hawks made it clear he never believed in fate; whatever happened was because of choices, your own or someone else's, that shaped each and every outcome.

But, in that moment, your unity felt like destiny. His weight above you, his warmth, the smell of his skin, felt familiar, felt like home. His breath fanning out in hot wisps across the skin of your neck, his manhood nuzzled deep in your core, felt like harmony, like it was meant to be.

Maybe, you were just stupidly aroused, to the point that sense and reason was lost. Maybe, Hawks was just so good at this, that he already had you drunk on the sensation, drunk on him.

But, you decided that you didn't care what the answer was, just as long as he didn't stop.

"Fuck. You feel so good," Hawks praised, leaning up to look down at you.

"You like that? 'm I making you feel good, baby?" he slurred, huffing out breaths between each thrust.

"Keigo," you whined affirmingly, or maybe scoldingly, maybe somewhere in-between. His words were embarrassing; but, you didn't want him to ever stop talking.

He leaned down, nuzzling his forehead affectionately against your temple. It seemed to contrast the vulgar words he spewed.

"Fuck, yeah. Say my fucking name," he grunted.

The hand gripping your thigh tugged you down a little, putting you a bit further beneath him. It changed the angle slightly. The fact that he even considered that was enough to knock the wind out of you. But, now, with him reaching all the best places, his hips were doing that quite well.

He laughed darkly at the way you cried out sharply, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

"Right there?" he hummed. "Right fucking there?" he added on immediately with a particularly harsh thrust, clearly demanding an answer.

"Yes!" you almost screamed, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice.

Every time he plunged back inside, bringing your hips impossibly tight together, a smacking sound echoed around the room. He buried his face in the divot between your neck and shoulder, alternating between slurs and nibbling on the soft, sweaty skin.

"Feels so fucking good," Hawks groaned. "So fucking warm 'n soft. Ya' feel that - feel your juices dripping all over the fucking place? Yeahhh - all over my fucking cock."

He lapped a wet tongue up the side of your neck, teeth biting gently at your jaw and cheek before rising to hover against your lips.

"Look at me," he demanded softly. The skin of his lips touched yours as he spoke.

You almost didn't realize that you had closed your eyes. The pleasure was overwhelming, making it near impossible to force your eyes open.

You could picture him perfectly in your head. Still, you weren't prepared for the sight of him when your eyes fluttered open: Hawk's handsome face, looming over you, cheeks flushed red, fangs peaking out between parted lips, messy blonde locks flopped over his sweaty forehead.

"Don't look away," he demanded in a low growl.

It likely wasn't intentional, but he sounded more pleading and less demanding. Still, you were eager to comply. Even if he hadn't requested it, it would have been difficult to look away when he was wearing an expression like that.

Your hands clawed down his back, venturing lower and lower until they reached his shoulder blades, where beautiful, heavenly plumes grew. Hawks cried out, eyes squeezing shut, when you dipped your hands down and slid one along each wing, tangling digits in the feathers.

"Ohhh, fuck," he snarled.

You whimpered when he dipped his head down and bit at your lips before forcing his tongue inside. His command for you to look at him was briefly forgotten as he kissed you, if the harsh motions of his tongue could even be called a kiss.

The swift pace he had set became brutal suddenly, and he was smacking his hips against yours almost violently. Something slithered between your bodies, and you realized faintly that it was a feather.

The soft little quill curled between your bodies and found purchase against your clit, rubbing at the bud almost like a fingertip. That touch got your grip on his wings to loosen as the pleasure became almost blinding.

Hawks pulled back from the kiss with a wet smack, looking down at you almost angrily. You had gotten used to that look, and recognized it as pure lust. Maybe, he was a little mad at you, in his own way.

"Grabbing my wings? You fucking brat," he snarled. There was no venom, however, just animalistic lust.

You wanted to bite back at him; but, the sensations between your legs made it near impossible to think properly, let alone speak. His feather was flicking at your pearl, sparking white hot pleasure, while his cock pummeled your insides, burning aching pleasure at your core.

Somehow, you found the strength to return your hands to his wings, curling fingers and palms beneath the lower end where the appendages jutted out from his back. You grabbed on, felt the feathers fold and twitch between your fingers, making room for you to settle in, almost as if they were working against him.

Hawks cried out, head falling back; but, his pace didn't falter once.

"Fuck, oh fuck," he whined, head nearly smacking into yours when he came back down.

"Holding on like that, gonna make me-" Hawks cut off, moaning shamelessly, breath fluttering out across your cheeks.

Gods, he looked beautiful like that: eyes clouded with lust, cheeks and the tops of his ears tinted red, mouth hanging open. You didn't look much better, laying there and just taking everything he gave you, and loving every fucking second of it.

Normally, his hair was blown out and brushed free from his face. It was cute seeing long strands clinging to his forehead and brow. You could see short, fluffy strands clinging to his neck, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat.

He could easily jostle his wings or use a strong hand to push you away, to free himself from your grasp; but, he didn't. It felt good, too fucking good, to possibly do that. But, that didn't stop him from bitching about it.

"-touching my fucking wings," he snarled, sounding almost unlike himself, breathless and senselessly aroused, as he growled into the shell of your ear.

"-knot you as punishment," he threatened, words slurred and growling. "Yeah - make you take all of it."

It became clear to you, then, what you had felt earlier, while sucking him off. Perhaps, it shouldn't been so surprising that he could do that. Still, the promise was enough to make you cry out.

Hawks laughed darkly. "That's not a punishment, is it? No, nooo - you would like that."

You weren't sure if it was his words, or the thought of what he intended to do. Maybe it was the way he growled at the end of his sentences, or the feeling of his feathers shuddering in your grasp. But, before you knew it, your orgasm was creeping up on you.

"You want my knot? Hm? Fucking say it - hgnnn," he demanded, words drawling out into a low growl that rumbled through his chest.

"Keigo, please," you sobbed.

"'Please' what?" he snarled.

You barely heard his response. Your orgasm was suddenly overtaking you, so strongly that you could only hear your heart thundering in your ears. Your eyes fluttered shut and you trembled helplessly beneath him, fingers releasing his wings to claw down the skin of his back, trying to find purchase in his skin.

His feather never ceased pinching at your clit; Hawks hips, however, began to falter, feeling you come undone beneath him, tightening and gushing. You failed to feel him swelling at the base, his own orgasm approaching rapidly.

"Oh fuck - oh fuck," Hawks chanted, panting above you like a wild dog.

Without separating, he hiked your leg up and turned you over onto your side, nuzzling into the space behind you. There was barely a second where his pace faltered, and suddenly he was pressed up tight against your back, snarling into your neck while he continued jackhammering into you.

"I need to hear it," he uttered harshly.

Weakly, you reached down between your sopping wet thighs and pushed at the feather that never stopped fluttering against you. It felt good, so, so good. But, it was bordering on painful. The little plume refused to obey your weak protest, and continued flicking expertly at your bud, sending shockwaves across your body.

"-need to hear it," he added on again, insistently.

As your orgasm started to wane, you remembered his request.

Hawks' legs were tangled with yours, resting on his side behind you, sweaty chest slotted against your back while his hips fucked into you feverishly. He had one hand curled over your hip for leverage while his other arm was tucked under your head.

He was panting wildly, nearing completion, fucking into you so fast and hard that it almost hurt. You could hear his wings flap once, stirring the air around you.

"Baby - fuck - please," he sobbed, so fucking close that it was starting to claw away at his insides. He buried his face in the back of your neck, wheezing harshly between sharp moans.

You felt deliriously high, insides still churning in mind-numbing pleasure, skin silky with sweat. You could feel his harsh breaths fluttering out against your neck, felt his hair tickle your skin, felt what he was begging for, prodding at your entrance.

"Y-yes," you stammered, arching your back to try and meet him. "Knot me, Keigo, pleas-"

He pushed it in just in time for his orgasm to take him. The gland at the base of his cock swelled, locking you two together, and Hawks let out a harsh cry that rattled your bones.

The sob you made at the sudden fullness was drowned out by the sounds Hawks was making behind you.

Hawks' sharp cry faded into low moans that stuttered past his lips, one right after the other, as if he was helpless to stop them. The hand that had been holding your hip lowered until his arm locked around your waist, holding you close. His cock throbbed against your walls, gushing his seed in hot spurts.

Even when his orgasm seemed to wane, Hawks couldn't stop shuddering behind you, low wisps of pleasured sounds leaking from his mouth and fluttering across your skin.

It was only when his cock stopped throbbing that he finally went quiet and the feather fluttering at your pearl ceased. The blinding pleasure slowly faded into blissful tranquility, leaving you in the soft ambiance of the ceiling fan, Hawks' breathing, and the bustling streets outside.

In awe, you stared ahead as some of his feathers fluttered free from his wingspan and floated around the room, caught in the breeze from the ceiling fan.

Hawks held you close, panting into your neck, barely an inch of your sweat soaked skin not touching.

Most of the time, guys pulled away as quickly as they could when they were done. Feeling him linger felt nice, warm, comforting, especially when he finally started to calm down, and you felt his lips trail up your neck before nuzzling behind your ear.

"You okay?" he uttered lowly.

"Yeah," you replied softly. "Are you?"

"Still feels good," he answered hoarsely.

"Mmm," you agreed.

You wanted to close your eyes and sink into the sheets; but, you didn't want to look away from the sight of his feathers floating around the room. He must not have realized yet, for he surely would have pulled them back by now.

His arm left your waist so he could free his hand to wander, smoothing over your belly before rising up your sternum. He palmed your neck softly before smoothing over your shoulder, down your arm, then over the curve of your side, briefly squeezing the meat of your behind.

That hand then lifted to brush the hair out of your face and away from your neck, freeing up more skin within reach of his lips, which he promptly peppered with kisses.

Sensitive from such powerful orgasms, your sensitive skin prickled at the feeling of his short beard hairs, and you couldn't hold back some giggling and twitching, which did nothing to deter him.

When he was satisfied, his arm returned to your waist, bringing you in closer as if such a thing was possible.

"Is this... your first time?" you asked him softly, hesitantly.

"What? Having sex?" he blurted, laughing a little.

"No," you sharply retorted, snorting at him.

"Knotting?" he answered with a chuckle. "Yeah. Never wanted to be like this with someone before."

You slid one of your hands over his forearm, the one curled over your waist, until your fingers touched his knuckles. He opened his fingers, letting you intertwine the digits to caress his hand.

"Good," you hummed. "I'm special."

Hawks laughed breathlessly, his chest trembling softly against your back. "Yeah... Yeah, you fucking are," he agreed in a quiet whisper.

Everything was quiet for a little while. Hawks eventually realized he lost some plumes and drew them back into his wingspan. You could hear the feathery appendages shudder softly as he stretched them out, wiggling the masses, before drawing them back in.

He relaxed behind you, pliant and lazy atop the sheets, occasionally blessing your skin with a kiss: a rough one on your shoulder, a soft one on your cheek, a wet one against the shell of your ear. His other arm was still beneath you, making for a decent, albeit hard, pillow.

It was possible that his knot had already gone down by now; but, if it had, you hadn't noticed, and didn't care to move or to tell him to move. You didn't want the moment to be over quite yet.

"Soooo," Hawks uttered suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He carefully drew his arm out from beneath your head and propped an elbow up so he could lean elevate his hand against his palm and look down at you.

"How was that?" he asked, and you, of course, noticed his cheeky tone.

You groaned in response, highly suspicious of where this was going.

"Better than-"

"Don't you fucking say it," you interrupted him sharply, turning your head a little to look back at him, just in time to watch the wicked smirk on his face turn into a pout, an annoyingly adorable pout at that.

You sighed and turned your head back, away from him, uttering quietly, "yeah, it was better."

Hawks hummed happily. "Better than-?" he cooed, cutting himself off intentionally to tease you.

Testing the waters, you gently pulled away from him, confirming that he had softened and slipped out with ease. You lifted up into a seated position and shimmied to the edge of the bed. Hawks hadn't moved an inch, you realized, when you paused to look back at him.

"The best I've ever had," you sighed at him. "Happy?"

He closed his eyes, beaming a smile at you. "Yep!" he chirped, wings twitching subtly behind him.

"Are you staying, pretty bird?" you dared to ask, just a little fearful that he would take that opportunity to see himself out.

"I sure hope so," he replied. "Or are you the kind to throw men out to the cold when you're done with them?"

You leaned over the bed to give him a playful, harmless smack on the top of the head. He let you, smile not faltering and not flinching in the slightest.

"I might start tonight," you teased.

Still, you gently pushed his hair out of his face, preening him until you were satisfied, and stood up. You couldn't help but stare at him for a moment, spread out on his side, beautifully naked and looking happier than you'd seen him in ages.

"Gonna clean up. Keep the bed warm," you gently commanded him.

Just as you turned away from him, you felt his hand wrap around your arm, stopping you from retreating. You jerked back just a little, not expecting that sudden touch.

"Be mine," he requested.

It was possible that Hawks intended for it to come out demanding. It was, just a little bit; but, there was no missing the plea there, the fear that you were going to tell him that you belonged to no one, or that you didn't want what he was asking for.

You looked at him over your shoulder. The stern face he was making startled you a little. He was always joking about something, making dumb faces so people would underestimate him. It was rare to see him look like this, and you realized-

He was serious.

You gently peeled his hand off your arm. "I was yours when you stole my cigarettes, asshole," you beamed at him, a little bit more venomously than you intended.

That didn't stop Hawks from grinning like a madman.

"Fuck, babe. I love that dirty talk. Let's go again."

For some reason, that got you laughing. "Fuck off."

"Fuck me?" he teased.

You laughed again. "No."

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: ii

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

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

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

word count: ~15.2k

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

(You and Keigo learn to start living again.)

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

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

enjoy loves <3

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The doors to exit the hospital scare you.

How can they not?

They’re... automatic.

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

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

It’s just some doors, they’re normal.

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

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

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

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

You hate it.

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

It would be enough.

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

Tears stung your eyes as you lingered by the doors.

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

And completely alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

(He won’t. Empty promises.)

(Everyone leaves.)

(Why’d you call him, anyway?)

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

Solitude makes people desperate and crazy.

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

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

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

Then someone whistles. You ignore it at first.

The person whistles again, calling out— 

“Your ride’s here, starshine!”

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

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

Your steps stutter as you nearly trip over your feet.

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

And you see him.

(He really came?)

(Of course he did.)

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

You meet each other halfway.

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

 And you shudder at how good it feels. 

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

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

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

You squeeze him just as hard.

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

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

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

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

You want nothing more.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is the world, isn’t it?

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

...

Keigo had made up the guest room for you.

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

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

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

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

Except, he didn’t.

Keigo started to make the home better.

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

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

Nothing too imposing.

(Nothing too reminiscent.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

 You can’t manage much.

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

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

‘Light’.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both settle onto the couch, eating in silence.

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

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

“What’s your quirk?”

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

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

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

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

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

Had he never realized it?

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

The odd heat of it all. 

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

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

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

“Why’s that?”

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

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

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

“... You know how cats purr?”

Keigo quirks an eyebrow, “I do.”

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

“... ‘Not doing well’?”

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

Comfort themselves.

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

And you must’ve felt awful. 

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

And the heat of you flares. 

Your quirk is a part of you.

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

You don’t need to apologize.

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

...

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

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

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

He’s doing great.

Despite his sluggishness, you move about on your own. 

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

Neither of you comment on it.

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

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

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

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

Again, coping.

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

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

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

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

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

...

You don’t have much that is solely yours. 

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

Keigo notices.

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

You’re more challenged by the task.

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

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

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

Perhaps, you think to yourself. Your jaw locks.

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

The world feels dimmer with the thought. 

...

The house gets cold at night.

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

But, you slept separately. 

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

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

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

...

“Your packages are here.”

You look up, eyes wide and sweet.

Oh, yeah. Material goods.

Clothes.

Objects.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Thank you, thank you, thank you.)

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

He accepts circumstance, just as he always has. 

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

             That night, things begin to shift. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... We’re safe, right?” 

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

One loaded question answered for another.  

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

Keigo was old news at this point.

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

Still. 

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

“We’re safe, starshine. Very safe.”’

It makes his answer easier to say, more honest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shudders with it, something needy wriggling down from

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s uncomfortable for a few moments.

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

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

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

It’s a process, he reminds himself. 

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

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

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

It makes part of him ache.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

You never sleep alone after that night.

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

It puts Keigo at a remarkable amount of ease. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s progress, even in something so small. 

...

But progress isn’t linear. 

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

...

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

It scares you, secretly and privately. 

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

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

He hums after a few moments. 

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

 Oh wow.

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

The question stuns both of you.

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

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

Getting out.

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

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

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

You squeeze his hand, locking your jaw. 

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

You haven’t decided again. 

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

“It’s scary, though.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

Deep breaths.

You catch yourself, just a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One...

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

 Two...

 This was a terrible idea.

 Three—

 It was four—

 Four—

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

You wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything moves forward, even if it’s unpleasant.

It’s an awful reminder at an inopportune time. 

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

It makes his chest ache.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels safe.

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

It feels amazing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And how do you know all this?” 

“A documentary, love.”

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

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

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

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

Little marks of him.

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

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

You’re bared to him.

And if Keigo’s being honest?

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

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

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

You squeeze, almost in warning.

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

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

Keigo’s mind races, in the best way.

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

“I don’t need to,” You lie, huffing. 

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

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

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

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

You’re his, aren’t you?

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

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

More, more, more—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is what you both need, isn’t it?

Each other. All of each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m afraid you’re going to leave.”

Keigo stills.

He sits with your fear for a few beats.

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

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

His, his, his.

He shows you.

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

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

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

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

His, his, his.

There is, of course, the inverse.

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

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

Without thought, your hands ghost over his scars.

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

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

And something in Keigo snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

It feels like a remnant

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

 ...

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

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

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

[Suits] Calling...

 He paces as he listens to her drone on.

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

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

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

“It’s for the people, Hawks—”

It makes him snap.

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

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

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

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

“Hawks—”

Shut up, shut up, shut UP.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being childish.”

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

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

He snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

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

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

“S-Sweetpea?”

Keigo freezes.

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

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

But he doesn’t that day.

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

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

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

“Don’t.” 

You freeze, “Pretty eyes—”

“Don’t, just don’t.”

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

It’s shitty and selfish.

And he just doesn’t care.

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

...

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

It’s still too much. 

...

You, on the other hand? 

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

You panic. 

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

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

You tried to manage it.

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

Fucking nothing.

He just left.

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

Is he okay? 

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

(He’d tell you, wouldn’t he?)

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

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

How could he just... leave?

You need him back.

You alone without him.

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

Beneath the anger was a thick layer of fear. 

You are alone.

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

What if he never comes back?

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

Why wouldn’t he?

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

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

All alone.

All fucked up and broken and fucking alone.

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

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

What if things changed? 

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

All alone in the mountains.

All.

Alone.

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

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

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

He’s all you have.

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

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

He’ll come back.

He cares.

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

Not a single soul.

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

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

And you wait.

...

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

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

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

It’s not fair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because they were.

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

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

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

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

He lets himself cry.

Finally.

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

He repeats a little mantra between scratchy breaths—

“I’m still good.”

“I’m still good.”

“I’m still good.”

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

He let’s go.

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

And you.

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

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

(Coward.)

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

As he nears, his stomach drops. 

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

Something’s not right.

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

You must be cold. 

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

You twitch, curling over your body harder. 

Something is very wrong— 

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes are glassy and unfocused.

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

You’re freezing.

Too cold, way too cold.

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

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

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

...

You remember how pretty red the sky was.

You like sunsets. 

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

Keigo’s gone.

You could drive—

Keigo drove away. You’re alone.

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

It was nice. Peaceful, at the very least.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

Nest, nest, nest.

Heat them first, then nest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was.” 

Keigo can’t fight you on the obvious. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” You murmur, neutral and vacant.

Keigo doesn’t push you.

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

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

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

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

“Who was it?”

“Old boss.”

“… And?”

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

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

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

Your face hardens.

“No.”

“… No?”

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

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

“Probably.”

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

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

Yes.

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

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

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

He wraps his hands around your wrists.

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

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

“We a-are.”

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

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

And so, he does.

…

He tells you about Jin first.

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

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

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

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

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

How many more people would be dead?

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

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

“And then Dabi—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m feeling okay,” You paw at your face a bit, rubbing your cheeks like they’re still numb and not flushed with blood and sticky with drying tears. “I just freaked out a little.”

“… Because I left?”

You nod, chewing your lips.

“I don’t want to be alone, Keigo,” You whisper it, though he already knows your admission. “I’m terrified of you leaving.”

“When I left,” Keigo rises to meet your gaze, gooey and cobbled. “Did you think I wouldn’t come back?”

“… Maybe,” You shake your head, refusing to look at him. “You didn’t say anything about coming back, just about… leftovers.”

You both frown.

“I panicked.” You shake your heard.

“… That’s what happens when you panic?”

“I guess?” Your mouth feels too dry. “I don’t know. I got scared. I panicked. What else was I supposed to do?”

There’s an obvious answer or two, but it’s unspoken.

“I’m not leaving,” Keigo rubs at your cheeks. “You’re gonna have to try pretty hard to get me gone, starshine. I love you too much to go easily.”

It’s a declaration, a strong one, and god does it feel fucking good to hear.

“… Promise?” You ask him as his palms cup your cheeks and jaw.

“Promise.”

“I heard on the call—”

Keigo interrupts you with a kiss, hard and long that steals your breath and makes your head spin.

“Promise.” Keigo breaths, pretty eyes meeting your heat-filled ones. “Everywhere, all the time, forever. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a start, even if that insecurity is so deeply rooted. The adoration in his eyes, and the sweetness of his touch tempers it all. It’s there still, just like how there’s so much unspoken that needs to be sorted, chewed on, and digested.

But now?

The embers in the hearth need another log or two. The futon needs to be folded out and I’d be best if you shared a cup or two of tea. Preferably something with lavender that’ll scent the cabin with the smells of spring and herbs.

Now, you’re both more than enough.

…

thank you for reading!!💞keep an eye out for part 3! 👀

ko-fi

[navegandoaciegas]

Broken Wings

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Summary: You’re a small town girl with big city dreams, set on leaving Knockemstiff and its sheriff behind for good. Lee would do anything to make sure you stay with him.

Warnings: smut, explicit language, consensual sex, slight breeding kink, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of alcohol.

A/N: This is part 1. Part 2

I want to thank my baby @whateveriwant for your support, ily! I haven’t written anything in more than a month but it feels good to be back to it!!

Knockemstiff, 1957

The crisp air of the night hit your exposed legs when you swung them over the window sill, and a shiver ran down your spine as humidity seeped into your bones.

From your bedroom on the second floor, you could make out the shape of the Sheriff’s car hidden behind the line of trees near your father’s shed, and a bittersweet, faint smile spread on your painted lips. Fastening the clasp from the outside, you climbed down the drain pipes, savoring the thrill of it all one last time.

No more Knockestiff, sneaking out of your bedroom, shotgunning while he patrolled the streets, milkshakes and burgers propped on your things and Johnny Cash playing in the background, drowned by your giggles and his laughs. You wouldn’t get to call the sheriff yours anymore, and you would never spend another moment writhing in pleasure under his warm, soft body.

You loved Lee Bodecker in spite of everything he stood for, but not even the love of your life could keep you anchored to this town. Tomorrow you’d be far, far away, and God himself couldn’t stop you if he tried.

You’d promised your mother that you wouldn’t end up withering away with no chances and no future like she had. Like everyone who was touched by the curse of Knockemstiff did.

“Spread your wings and fly far, far away,” she’d hiccup between sobs each time you’d drag her limp body from the couch to her bed, the stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes oozing out of her skin, “my pretty little butterfly.”

Your mother would have sold her soul to the Devil to see you out of Knockemstiff.

A new beginning awaited you in New York. A job as a librarian, an apartment to share with one of your college girlfriends, a prospect, a future.

Hope, freedom, opportunities.

The pipe creaked under your weight, but you paid no mind to it. Moonshine would have knocked out cold anyone in the house by now.

Scurrying down the gravel road, you found Lee waiting for you, a smug smile on his clean shaven face and a brown paper bag in his arms.

“About damn time, dove. Been freezing my ass over here, waitin’ on ya.”

You flung yourself in his arms, knocking him back against the car’s hood, savoring the musky scent of his cologne one last time.

“Hello, Sheriff.”

His chest vibrated with a fond chuckle, and you looked up to him, trying to etch every line of his handsome face to your memory.

In another life, the adoration in his blue eyes would have changed your mind.

“Missed me?” he teased you, one arm snaking around your waist, holding you flush to his front. The other came up to your face, cradling your cheek in his palm.

You could feel his soft belly against you. His shirts fit tighter now than when you’d started dating, and his stomach was beginning to bulge over his belt buckle.

“More than you can imagine.” you sighed, offering him a weak smile.

Maybe he missed the melancholy in your voice, or maybe he’d made his peace with your mood swings long ago, because he didn’t comment on it, simply placing a soft kiss on your forehead and pushing you back, thrusting the bag in your arms.

“Let’s get inside dove. These streets ain’t gonna patrol ‘emselves.”

The inside of his car was always warm, and smelled like him.

He drove around while you fed him fries, and you talked until your mouths ran dry.

Guilt gripped your heart when he mentioned a future together.

You knew he’d picked a ring, voices spread fast in small towns. He wanted the white picket fence, a pretty housewife and kids.

You were selfish and cruel and revelled in his love and affection for months, knowing damn well you’d never give him what he desired most.

“You okay? You seem distracted.” he quipped, hand squeezing your thigh.

Your conscience screamed at you to talk to him, but your mouth stayed sealed. There were no words to make this easy on him, so you’d make it easier on yourself.

He’d hate you, at first, but he’d move on, find some other nice girl and settle down with her.

She’d be pretty, and good to him, and she’d love him for the rest of her days.

“I’m okay, you know me. My head’s always up ‘n the clouds. College,” you deepened your voice, mocking your father’s words, “makes ‘m kids airheads.”

His eyes crinkled when he laughed. You’d miss the sound.

“I know, my little dove’s always flying higher than the rest of this shitty town.”

It was bitter, really, that the one you loved the most was what kept you chained to the ground, where you didn’t belong.

You were meant for the sky, his little dove, your mother’s butterfly.

Spread your wings, you reminded yourself, and fly far, far away.

-

You swore time flew by faster when you spent it with Lee, and minutes melted into hours, slipping through your fingers.

You wished you had more.

When he pulled over to an all too familiar clearing in the woods, your body acted on its own accord, and you climbed in the back seat like you’d done most nights for months.

Those trees had seen you in all states of undress, fucked in the car or on the hood, on your knees, on your back, on your stomach, with his cock down your throat or in your cunt, his face between your legs or on the crook of your neck.

Everything made you melancholic, everything reminded you about what you were about to give up.

It was selfish, but you’d allow yourself to forget all about the future for the moment being.

Just you and Lee, just a moment longer before reality would inevitably hit you like a bucket of iced water.

You and the love of your life that you’d betray once morning came.

But in the dark, underneath the stars and the moon, he was still yours, and you were his.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful baby, God, I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.”

You ignored the guilt once again, and straddled his lap. Grabbing him by his tie, you slanted your mouth against his. He parted his lips with a sigh, resting his back against the seat.

“Fuck, dove, you’re so good to me.” he mumbled, calloused hands roaming over your body.

A moan escaped your lips when his strained cock rubbed against your flimsy undergarments, and you arched your back, seeking more friction to soothe your aching core.

Warmth pooled in your lower belly, and slick gathered in your panties.

You ran your fingers through his hair, and pulled him impossibly close to feel everything, his warmth and his scent, his soft body and his rough hands.

Teeth clattering, bruising touches, heaving chests. The windows were getting fogged up by your hot breaths, and the metal creaked and clattered under your weights.

Desperation and arousal clouded your mind, and you looked at him through half lidded eyes, hoping he couldn’t read into your soul.

“Lee, baby, I need to feel you, I need you inside me,” you whined, unbuttoning his shirt and tugging on his belt impatiently.

You were desperate to feel his cock inside you, to have his hands leave bruises and his mouth leave marks on your skin one last time. Be his, be one in the flesh, one last time.

“So eager, you’d think I was Paul Newman or somethin’,” he chuckled, kneading the flesh of your ass.

“Much better than Newman, Brando or whatever they worship in Hollywood now.” you panted through sloppy kisses, hand dipping inside his briefs, his weight heavy and hot against your palm.

He hissed through his teeth, eyes rolling to the back of his brain. “What are you butterin’ me up for, dove?”

A beautiful moan escaped his lips when you doubled your efforts, wrist twisting around the velvety skin of his shaft, working his sensitive tip.

“I don’t need flattery to get me anythin’ baby, just these hands and lips.”

You popped your lips to emphasize your point, and let your tongue run along his bottom lip, taking it between yours and sucking on it.

He lifted your shirt with a swift motion, and the growl that he let out when he didn’t find any bra sent a thrill through you, straight to your throbbing core.

He groped your tits, squeezing until the line between pleasure and pain became too blurred to distinguish. You gasped when he rolled and pinched your nipples between his fingers, and mewled when his mouth closed down on one of them.

His tongue swirled around the stiff bud, teeth barely grazing the delicate skin.

A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hot breath against your neck, and in a blur you found yourself laying on your back, his body caging you in.

“Don’t forget about this pussy, baby, I’d do anything for it.”

Your giggles turned to cries once his hand found its way between your legs, his name falling from your lips like a prayer while he caressed the hair on your mound.

He beamed proudly, feeling the wet patch on your undergarments, and dipped in your folds, spreading the slick around your entrance, rubbing your clit with his thumb.

His lips tasted like candy and strawberry milkshake, and you savored them as long as you could while your tongue intertwined with his.

You laughed when he knocked his head on the door, and then his knees on the floorboard.

“Can’t wait till we have a bed.” He groaned, already breathless while he fumbled with his pants, shoving them down his legs in a hurry.

Sadness filled you again, because one day he’d have a big, comfortable bed, but you wouldn’t be the one warming it.

You blinked away the tears as you clung to his shoulders.

When he breached your entrance, you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

You’d never gotten used to the stretch of his girth, and you wondered if anyone else would ever feel this right inside you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips stilling once he’s sheathed himself inside you, “God, you’re so tight.”

You felt like you were bursting at the seams, your walls quivering around his cock.

He rolled his hips tentatively, observing your face for any signs of pain, and started pounding inside you once he’d found none.

The burn soon turned into a pleasant ache.

“I’m a lucky bastard,” he snarled, punctuating each word with a rough snap of his hips, “I can’t wait to have you all to myself, dove.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and didn’t notice how your lips quivered, or the tears that streamed down your face. He kept thrusting inside you, moaning each time he would feel your walls gripping his cock tightly.

Damp skin slid over yours, filling the car with the lewd sounds of his balls slapping your ass, and his belly smacking against yours.

“I’m gonna put so many babies inside you, I can’t wait to see you all swollen with my child. Fuck-, I can’t wait to come home to you everyday, my pretty little wife.”

You let yourself revel in the image. A pleasant, safe one. One that didn’t belong to you, but that warmed your heart anyways.

When the pressure in your core became too much for you to bear, you began blabbering and begging him to give you that release only he had ever given you.

“Please Lee, I need to- need to cum, baby.”

You choked on your words and shrieked when his hand dipped between your bodies, and he began rubbing circles around your clit.

“Cum for me, dove, cum all over my cock, wanna feel you fall apart on me baby.” he growled, hips stuttering.

He swallowed your cries with a kiss as you came undone. Your whole body trembled when hot waves of pleasure shook your limbs, the tight coil in your cunt unravelling all at once, releasing the pressure inside you.

You throbbed and gushed around his cock, arching your back and digging your nails in the flesh of his back.

He kept pounding inside you, riding your aftermath and praising his good girl through shuddering breaths.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whined, and you felt his movements become errantic and his cock swell inside you.

“Finish up outside,” you managed to wheeze out.

He grunted, but obeyed regardless.

Knocking you up before he got a preacher’s blessing wouldn’t look good on his resume if he was to ever be mayor. Otherwise you’d have had a child on your hip already, you suspected.

You winced when he pulled out, and stood on his shins, hovering over you, brows furrowed, sweat dripping down his forehead.

You brought your hand down to his cock, and you stoked him once, twice, running your thumb over his slit before his hips stuttered and he painted your stomach with his white, warm load.

He collapsed next to you, holding you tight in his arms and catching his breath.

“You’re gonna be all mine soon, dove,” he whispered in your ear, rubbing his nose against yours, “and I’m gonna fill your pussy up every night, I swear. No more pulling out ever again.”

-

Freedom tasted bittersweet.

Corn fields gave way to tarmac too soon, and before you realized it, you’d left Knockemstiff and your old life behind, in hope of a new, better one

You rested against the window, your head rattling on the screen with each bump on the road. The stench of stale cigarettes, moonshine breath first thing in the morning and sweat filled the packed bus, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

The prospect of your future terrified you and thrilled you to no end.

You observed the cars speeding past the bus, and the streams of dried tears on your face in your reflection. Your mind swirled with thoughts, the images of Lee torturing you. Sighing to yourself, you clutched the handkerchief that the woman besides you had gently offered with a kind, knowing smile on her face.

Better forget all about him as soon as possible.

New beginnings were hard, but hope blossomed in your chest with each mile that went by. Besides, your mother’s smile when she’d waved you goodbye had given you all the strength you needed.

You let the gentle sway of the bus lull you to sleep.

She’d never looked so happy and beautiful, bathed in dawn’s warmth with her Sunday dress she’d worn to see her biggest wish come true.

Her butterfly had finally spread her wings.

-

Part 2 (hopefully coming out tomorrow)

-

So what do you think is going to happen in the next chapter? 🤭

I hope you liked it! I haven’t written in so long, but I hope it’s good. Please leave some feedback if you can, and reblog!

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

A feeling.

This was requested by the lovely @ben-c-group-therapy who asked for this:

< Hi! So I’d like to request a story between Nick and reader. Reader is Nick’s pregnant wife who gets kidnapped and held most likely due to a case Nick had been involved with putting the person away for etc. (of course that’s up to you lol.) She and baby would be fine just she would have some bruises or something from where they tied her or whatever. Idk. I don’t have enough courage to write it and I wanted to come to you with it. If you like the idea I’d love to read it! Thanks!>

Hope this hits the spot for you lovely and it’s what you were looking for. A I bet you could absolutely write something like this and it would be amazing. 

Warning: angst, a lot of angst, talks of SVU cases, talks of kidnapping,  happy ending and soft soft Nick. The pinch of Spanish that’s in there, sorry if its wrong I used google.

WC: 1770

Enjoy x

Nick had been day dreaming since he got back to his desk after court that morning, he hadn’t been this happy in a long time and he was finally starting to feel more relaxed now your maturity leave had started, you had only been married for 6 months before the two pink lines showed up and you were both looking forward to adding to your existing family. He knew you had an appointment with your OBGYN that lunch time that he couldn’t go to because he was in court.

But as he sat at his desk, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that was filling him. His phone started to buzz in his pocket and when he pulled it out, he frowned his brows at the doctors office number flashing on it, confused at why they were calling, you weren’t due for another 2 weeks,

“Hello, Nick Amaro”

“Mr Amaro, its Jill, Y/N didn't show up for her appointment today, I have tried to call her cell but she didn’t answer. Have you heard from her?”

All colour drained from his face and he froze just as Liv walked out of her office and Sonny jumped up from his chair walking to Nick and taking the phone off him to find out what was going on. Sonny hung up after talking to Jill and turned to Liv, Amanda and Fin filling them in. Nick was looking ahead, fear filling him and everyone tried not to show how worried they were as well, it wasn’t like you not to show for an appointment and even if you didn’t Nick always knew why you weren’t going. Sonny grabbed Nick’s shoulder and shook him to snap him out of his head,

“Come on man, I’ am sure she is having a nap, we all know how tired she is. She only has 2 weeks left. We’ll go and check on her, ok?”

Sonny drove as fast as he could to your apartment building, they rode the lift up to your floor while Amanda and Fin worked with TARU to track your phone as you still weren’t answering and Liv made some calls around to local hospitals and your family to see if you were at any or if they had seen you.

Nick and Sonny rushed out the lift door down the hall to the front door. At first it looked like it was shut but when Nick tried to put his key into the lock, the door opened up. He raised an eye brow at Sonny trying to hold back tears and they both reached for their weapons, drawing them and started to walk into the apartment. Nick had to remember to breath at the state of it and tried to push away the horrible feeling that washed over him as his eyes scanned around your shared home. Sonny’s eyes blew wide at the mess around, the whole place was trashed and there was a smashed coffee cup with coffee pooling around it on the floor.

They both searched the apartment finding you nowhere, Nick yelling your name at the top of his lungs, but he panicked even more when he walked into the bedroom and found photos spread out on the bed of Nick with a recent victim, who had to go into hiding after testifying against her FBI husband,

“Carisi” Nick shouted trying to hide the fear in his voice. Sonny came rushing through the door and his eyes set on the photos, and he too had to try and hide the panic that bolted through him,

“I’ll call Liv” Sonny pulled his phone out of his pocket and made the call to her.

The next few hours where a blur and Nick found it hard to focus worrying if you and the baby were ok. TURU and the FBI agents sergeant finally found the location on where you were and they were getting ready to move in, Nick given strict instructions to wait at the car. Liv, Sonny and FBI were busting into the front of the old factory and Amanda, Fin and SWAT were getting ready to move in from the back.

Nick had seen first hand what this guy was capable of, you had as well, it was the last case you worked on before your maternity leave started and you knew how much Nick was there for the wife and helped her get out with her kids. He kicked himself for not knowing this was coming, and now you had been gone for hours, heavily pregnant and although he was trying to prepare himself for what he could be walking into, he also knew you were strong and he was hoping for nothing but the best for the whole situation.

They all moved in as quickly, but quietly as possible. As they walked into the big room, Liv and Sonny saw you in the middle of the room tied to a chair still in your pj’s, rope around your wrists to the chair arms and duct tape on your mouth. Sonny could see your tears in the shine of the sun from the windows behind you and the FBI agent was screaming in your face and holding something up to you throat,

“Stop, police” Amanda’s voice filled the room.

Shots where fired and you squeezed your eye’s shut, sobbing hearing the shots being rung out of the room and fading away into the background. As soon as Nick heard the shots, he did what he was told not to do and he ran as fast as his legs could carry him into the factory. It didn’t take long for him to find you sitting in the middle of room shaking and crying,

“Y/N, mi amor” his voice echoed through the room.

Your eyes sprung open and you sobbed uncontrollably watching as Nick ran towards you dropping to his knees in front of the chair undoing the rope on your wrists as quickly as he could. As Nick undid one rope he saw the deep marks around your wrist from how tight the rope was around you. He then moved onto the other one and when he pulled off the rope, you were bleeding slightly. Rage filled him even more when he looked up your arm just under your sleeve and saw a bruise from where you had been grabbed too hard,   

“It’s ok Y/N, I’ am here now, you're safe. You’re ok. Baby, you’re ok”  Nick repeated over and over till he reached up pulling the tape off your mouth.

You launched onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck hugging him tight and he did the same wrapping one arm around your middle tight and his other rested on your large belly, tears spilling from his eyes when he felt the baby kick his hand,

“Nick” you sobbed squeezing your arms around him tighter.

Nick kissed all over the side of your face, the hand around you rubbing over your back and his other rubbing over your belly,

“It’s ok, I’ am here my love. I got you”

Without pulling out of your embrace, Nick moved to stand up, pulling you up with him and he scooped you up carrying you out to EMT’s. Nick spent the rest of the day with you at the hospital while you and the baby were checked to make sure you were both fine and getting your wrists patched up, Amanda and Nick’s mum went back to the apartment to pack bags for you both, Amanda dropping the bags and his mum back at her place where you were both going to stay for a while and Sonny organised a cleaner for your apartment for when you were both ready to go back. Liv told Nick to start his leave to keep an eye on you, while she, Fin and Rafael worked on the case against the FBI agent to make sure the book was thrown at him harder this time.

You were finally back at Nick’s mum’s sitting on the spare bed after having a shower and his mum making your favourite dish, Nick just got out of the shower and he was making you a tea. He walked over to sit next to you on the bed, sitting the cup on the bedside table and he sat down right next to you, his arm going around you and his hand resting on your belly.

You moved yourself to lay into his side, his arm coming down to rub up and down your arm, kissing the top of your head and then resting his head on top of yours, a comfortable silence filling the room till Nick broke it,

“We will stay here as long as you want to, I’ll go and pick up the bassinet and the new born stuff tomorrow and we will look for another apartment we can move into as soon as we can, a secure one this time”

“I like that idea”

You sat up off him and your eyes locked with his, you both sat there for a moment looking deep into each others eyes. Your hand rose up to his cheek, a smile pulled to his face and he lent into your hand,

“You were on my mind the whole time” you whispered.

“You were on mine too. Everything was out of my control, I wanted to go out to find you, I felt so helpless. I needed you to be safe” a tear rolled down his cheek and landed on your thumb “I couldn’t lose you” you both giggled when the baby kicked hard and Nick lent down kissing your belly and muttering into it “You too, mi pequeña niña, Te quiero” Nick kissed your belly again.

Nick sat back up and rested his forehead on yours, both of his hands moving to the sides of your head. Nick pulled back slightly, his hands still on your head and yours on his cheek. Nick titled his head to the side looking into your eyes again,

“Nick, kiss me, Please?”

A small smile pulled to his face again and he licked his lips before he closed the gap and his lips met with yours, fitting together. The kiss never deepened, it was soft, slow and loving. Nick peaked your lips, then along your cheek till he hugged you tightly in his arms pulling you into his warm solid body as he sat back on the bed head. You laid into him, your head resting under his chin,

“I love you mi amor, so much”

“I love you too babe”

Tags: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo

[marblesphere]

Xiao x reader

!Angst Warning!

Slowly and gently, I can see how he tucks the loose lock of her hair to her ear. I can also see how she blushes at his gentle gesture. A small barely noticeable smile on his lips. I clench my fist tightly, I feel the Qingxin flower's stem crushed in my palm. I want to walk away from the irritating scene, but my feet are rooted on the ground. As if some force prevented me too.

It took all my willpower to tear my sight from them. "Xiao…" I whispered to the wind, hoping he would notice. But alas, the harsh reality proved otherwise.

10 years. It took me ten years to befriend the so-called vigilant yaksha. The only remaining yaksha. The yaksha which is said to be the coldest amongst all of the adepti in Liyue.

I met Xiao when I was 6 years old. I was lost in a forest near Liyue harbor. I remember Granny Ping said to call Adeptus Xiao if I ever had any trouble. So with a snotty nose, I wail out his name. A gust of gentle breeze blows before a tall big brother (at that time) in teal arrived. He frowns at me. I still remember my hand, which was full of snot and tears, grabbed his long sleeves and cried to it, effectively soiling the pristine cloth.

He almost flung me instinctively, but I know how hard I grabbed it and I am still a Liyue citizen. Xiao kneeled and with an awkward pat on my head, he lifted me up easily. Without a word, he jumps high. I can still vividly remember the breeze blowing my face. I stopped crying immediately and realized how high we were.

Tears were replaced with small giggles. From the position we were, I found my parents shouting my name. "Papa and mama." I leaned my body, wriggling out of his arms.

"Don't move." That was the first time I heard his voice. It's so beautiful that I shut up immediately. Xiao maneuvered and landed near to my worried parents.

"Mama, Papa!" I rushed to them right after Xiao put me down. My mother quickly hugs me tight, afraid if I were to disappear again.

"Where were you?! Do you know how worried we were?!" Papa scolded.

"But Papa, Adeptus Xiao took me home." I wriggled out from my mother's embrace and looked behind me, only to find empty space.

"Adeptus Xiao was with you?" Papa asked bewildered.

"Yep. Granny Ping told me to call for Adeptus Xiao if I had trouble. I did and he came. He jumped so high and I could see you." I excitedly told them my tale.

Not long after, I finally found out not many people can meet the elusive Adeptus. But I was determined to meet him again. To thank him and befriend him.

So, I ask the most knowledgeable person in this world, Granny Ping. Granny Ping told me that Qingxin is his flower. I want to pick one, but it only blooms in high peaks which is impossible for me. So, the next best thing is buying from a florist. Granny Ping also told me where to give the flower. Wangshu inn. Thus, I made it my mission to go there everyday to give him a Qingxin flower.

In Wangshu inn. As expected, I couldn't meet Xiao, instead I met the owner. Verr Goldet. After hearing my reasoning to visit the elusive Adeptus. She told me to put the flower on the balcony on the highest floor. I will stay there for hours without meeting him. And I do this everyday for almost a month.

Maybe Verr was taking pity on me. She told me to help her deliver a plate of Almond tofu to Xiao. And thus, our second meeting. I was so excited that I almost fell flat smashing the tofu to the floor if not for his fast reflex.

Xiao frowns when he sees me. "Adeptus Xiao, thank you." I smiled as I gave him the flower.

"Don't come close to me." He frowned.

"But, I want to." I shook my head. "Granny Ping told me you have protected us. I want to thank you." I pouted.

"...I am just doing my job according to the contract. I don't need any thanks." He said.

"Even so, I want to thank you." I said persistently.

I think that was the time he gave up explaining to a small naive kid. From that day on, I meet him everyday with a Qingxin flower and a plate of almond tofu. Of course, I still have to call him or else he won't show up even with almond tofu.

After a year, he softened up a bit. At least, I don't need to wait for him on the balcony. He will always be there by the time I reach the balcony with a flower and a plate of almond tofu. Another year and I can even manage to slip a Qingxin flower to his hair. And the second year of our meeting is truly the start of my happiness. Xiao gave me a small trinket made from sage technique to ward off evil. Every year following that on my birthday the small trinket will increase, a crystalfly, a leaf butterfly, you name it. And last year, he gave me an amulet. The amulet I have never taken it off since I wore it on my birthday.

In exchange I too, so persistently celebrate his birthday, since he won't tell me when is his birthday, I just mark the date we met is his birthday, not until a few years later he finally grumpily told me his real birthday.

I started learning martial arts and cooking courtesy from Xiao for the former and Smiley Yan for the latter.

10 years of hardwork, 9 years of nurturing feelings, all of them have gone to the drain. With just one appearance of this girl. No, she is not a traveller with a fairy. She is just someone from Qingce village. Xiao met her when he was patrolling around the area. Just in a month she undone all my hardwork. Now they are a step away from being lovers.

I made my way back home. For the first time in 10 years, I didn't go to Wangshu inn, no I didn't go to meet him. A fresh Qingxin I have picked and a plate of almond tofu are laid forgotten on the table. Fresh tears finally flowed down from my eyes. It hurts. It hurts so much looking at them. It hurts so much seeing him smile at them. The smile that I thought only I could see.

'It's not yours anymore.' A sickly sweet voice whispered

'He is finally happy. He finally rid himself of you. You are just a worthless girl. You don't deserve him.'

'The love of his life is not you. It will never be you.' The sickly sweet voice cackled gleefully.

That night I succumbed to the negative emotion of mine.

The next day, I resolved to investigate that girl. I have realized I am not good enough for him. That's why I want to make sure she is good enough for him.

'You just want to make yourself better if you find a flaw in her. What a liar.' The voice back in my mind echoed.

I shake myself, trying to get rid of those voices. First, I will obviously start from Liyue. I heard her parents are doing business in Liyue and she sometimes tags along. And today, she didn't come. Perfect. I have double checked in her parents' shop.

But every answer I get from them lowers my spirit. In the end, I can only summarize her in one word. Perfect. She is so perfect. All of the people I ask from will sing a praise to her. It's almost impossible for a perfect human like her to exist. But she is, and now she could even open the vigilant yaksha's heart in the span of a month.

To clear my head and the annoying voices in my head, I make my way to the secret place I have found a few years back. Inside the forest where I first met Xiao, there is a small patch of Qingxin flower field deep inside the forest. Qingxin flower, which is said to only bloom in the highest peak, somehow can grow in that patch and only that patch. The area around it is also safe from hillicurls or slime. Xiao said he never detected any malicious intent around the small field. Thus, that area became our secret spot.

Either Celestia likes to mess with me or I am just that unlucky, I met the perfect girl. She is surrounded by hillicurls. I frowned, I materialized my weapon and took a step.

'Why don't you just leave her alone. She is powerless. If the Hillicurls get her killed, then no one will be with your precious Xiao again. You can have him all by yourself.' The sickly sweet voice is tempting me with that.

I stop dead in my tracks. Indeed, If she is dead, then Xiao will have no one but me. It will be just the two of us again. I take a step back and turn myself.

'Good. This is what you should do.' The voice cooed.

"Kyaaa!!"

I grit my teeth and spring back to act. I rush to the group of hillicurls, which fortunately just 3 of them. I swipe their feet using my polearm. "Run!" I barked at her. She flinches at my harsh glare and voice, but finally starts running.

I quickly engaged with 3 hillicurls. I am not a pro, but Xiao taught me enough to defend myself. I panted after I finished the last hillicurls. I am just glad I didn't get any deep injury. "Kikiki!" A small fireball flew past me.

I cursed my luck. A pyro abyss mage is waving his staff and 3 small monster heads are firing flamethrowers at me. I barely dodge it. "Kikiki!" Then another cyro abyss mage comes out.

I gulp. This place might be my grave after all.

*3rd POV*

Yue Mei is just picking herbs by herself. She giggles at the thought of the famous vigilant yaksha literally swept by her feet in their first meeting. She fell in love at the first sight. She glanced at a charm on her neck. She is really grateful for this charm. She made a wish a year ago in an adepti abode. And that adeptus gave her this charm. She is told to wear this everyday, everywhere she goes. This charm will help her.

True to his word, after she had worn this charm. Everyone has become nicer. They gave her a lot of free stuff and some even started to court her. She was shy at first, the attention she got was really overwhelming. But, she already has an ideal man. A man who is strong and handsome. And her ideal man turned out to be Adeptus Xiao.

She blushes again remembering him. Their last meeting ends up with Adeptus Xiao tucked her hair back to her ear. This intimate gesture is really making her happy. Soon, she will confess to him soon. And they will become a couple.

But, her daydream is short lived. A group of hillicurls suddenly appear and surround her. Fear gripped her entire being. "A...ade...adept…" She is too afraid to even call the yaksha. One of the hillucurls raises its club high. "Don….'t… Kyaaaa!!!!" She let out a blood curdling scream as she closed her eyes.

But the pain didn't come. When she opened her eyes she saw the hillicurls on the ground and a girl wielding a polearm glared at her with such hostility. "Run!" She barked at her. Yue Mei flinches at her harsh tone. But her feet finally gained their freedom as she ran away to the direction of Wangshu inn.

Her feet are tired and trembling. She collapses on her knees. "Adeptus Xiao." She whimpered. A familiar breeze whirled, and Xiao came. Looking at the trembling form, Xiao frowns, "What happened?" He kneeled in front of her.

"Hi...Hillicurls…" She managed to stutter.

He hisses, knowing those monsters targeted someone under his protection. "Where are they?"

"There…" She pointed to a direction. "A girl...wielding...polearm...is...holding them...off…" She said shakily. The entire time she clutched her charm.

"A girl… wielding polearm…" His eyes widened. A girl wielding a polearm. The only one that comes to his mind is "[Your Name]..." He whispered. Somehow his mind becomes clear, as if the fog in his mind has been blown away. Xiao quickly summons his own spear.

"Don't!!!" Yue Mei quickly grabbed his hand. "Don't...leave...me alone." Tears streamed down her eyes, making her look so pitiful. This usually invokes some kind of protective instinct from the opposite gender. But, unfortunately for her. She is dealing with this the one and only Conqueror of Demons. Now the spell has been broken, he is not as nice as previous him except to a certain mortal.

"Release me!" He growled as he glared at her, more specifically at her charm.

She flinches at his harsh tone and glare. She stares at him wide eyed. He never used this kind of tone with her, not even on their first meeting. Her hands loosen up. And Xiao quickly disappears from her, leaving her all alone.

Xiao rushes to the direction that the girl pointed to. His mind is racing with what ifs. He finally arrived, but [Your Name] is not on sight. There are only 3 dead bodies of Hillicurls. He calms down a bit. She can handle herself just fine if it's only 3 Hillicurls. But, when he observed more carefully once again, his blood ran cold. Not far from him, a puddle of red blood is spotted, along with two dead abyss mages.

His heart thumped loudly, looking at the trail of blood moving to a certain direction. To the direction he is so familiar. His mind starts racing with a really unpleasant outcome.

"~~~♪ ~~~ ♪" The wind brought a familiar tune.

"...Xiao...where are you…?" He heard it. Her voice. But her voice is so weak, like she will disappear forever. Xiao has never rushed this fast. Right now in his mind, there's only she has to be alright.

*1st Pov*

"Hah...haah…" I panted as I stabbed my polearm to the ground, using it to stabilize my body. The puddle of blood on the ground beneath me is proof it's too late for me. 'If I were to die… At least let me choose the place.' With that in mind, I dragged my feet to our secret spot no, my grave. The small patch of Qingxin flowers.

I drop my body in the middle of the patch, hissing from the pain. But the smell of Qingxin is calming me down. It feels like Xiao is with me.

"~~~♪ ~~~ ♪" with my shaky voice, I started humming a tune. This song is passed down from generation to generation in our house. Apparently this song is some kind of a prayer back in the ancient times. My eyes are blurry now being soaked by blood. "...Xiao...where are you…?" I couldn't see anymore. I reach out my hand, hoping he will grab it. Then a miracle happened. I can see Xiao grabs my hand and pulls me up. I can feel the pain has started to dull and then disappeared, I feel so light, so free. I can see him clearly. Hand in hand the two of us wander to wherever we desire.

"Thank you for coming." I smiled.

[boobz-fye]

corny/cute things they do for your love (G/N reader)

Includes:Tanaka Ryuunosuke❣ Bokuto Koutarou❣ Yuu Nishinoya❣ and Taketora Yamamoto❣ x G/N reader

Warnings: Cursing, but other than that it's just pure fluff.

Note: Forgot to add that you guys are not dating yet in any of these, but you both do have a crush on eachother (so basically this is their way of making a move on you). This is kinda just another trash post, cause like I typed all of this in an hour. But i'm gonna try and post something around this weekend, so hopefully that will make up for this. Also I didn't really know what to title this post- Anyways enjoy!!!!

❥Tanaka Ryuunosuke❥

This one is more on the corney side I guess

Watching a horror movie together

The plan is for you to get scared and cuddle up in his arms…

But his plan may or may not have worked

You guys are watching Midsommar at Tanaka's house. And suddenly you get to a really gory scene causing you to cringe and hide your face in Tanaka's chest. So of course Tanaka is gonna try and play it cool and poke fun at you a little. “Aww is someone getting scared?” He says with a teasing tone. “Oh shut up” you pout. He snickers turning back to the movie only to be met with an angry Saeko “AAAAAAAAH ITS A WITCH!!!” he screams, jumping into your lap. “WTF DID YOU JUST CALL ME?” Saeko screams, getting ready to beat Ryuus ass “O-oh hey sis.” Yeah lets just say tanaka had a couple bruises and nail marks decorating his body. But he was okay with it since you were the one that patched him up and took care of him!

❥Bokuto Koutarou❥

Good morning and Goodnight text

Some people find text like that dumb (idk why) but i think they are cute

Especially if it's from bokuto!!!

Also he definitely spends like 40 minutes choosing what to say, cause he doesnt want to offend you or seem dumb

Most likely has Akaashi proofread it before he sends the text to you

The sound of your phone going off wakes you up at an ungodly hour this morning, causing you to let out a groan of annoyance. Knowing you wont be able to go back to sleep until you find out who texted you, you check your phone. The text was from Bokuto so your annoyance from before was washed away. “Good morning Y/N!!! I hope you got your beauty sleep for today. Even if you didn't I'm sure you will still look beautiful/handsome as ever🥰. Also this morning I am going to run by the new cafe before school, and I was wondering if you would like something from there? It's on me.” As you read the text a smile appears on your face. You reply right away saying “Good morning bokuto💕 I did get a good amount of sleep, I hope you did as well! And I would like to see the cafe, I haven't found any time to check it out yet. Maybe we can go together? I'm still gonna count on you to pay though!!”

“HEY HEY HEY, are you asking me out on a date? Thought I was gonna have to make the first move. I wasn't gonna allow you to pay for yourself anyways! How about I meet you there in about an hour, yeah?”

❥Yuu Nishinoya❥

Does something dumb to try and impress you

His plan will most likely go south

But hey at least he tried…Right?

You stop by the Karasuno gym ,to give Sugawara a notebook that he left in one of your classes, only to be met by an ecstatic Nishinoya. “Y/N...Y/N, WATCH THIS NEW MOVE I CAME UP WITH!!!” “Uhhh ok?” Nishinoya goes across the gym and does his infamous rolling thunder move. Or tries to- In the middle of sliding on the ground, Hinata opens a door slamming it right in Yuu’s face. “HEY Y/N!!!” Hinata yells, not noticing Nishinoya curled up on the floor right next to him. “Dumbass” Tsukishima mumbles walking away. “Nishinoya are you ok?” you say giggling, as you jog over to him. “Nooooo” He whines, giving a scared Hinata the death glare no, because the life was drained from Hinata's face when he noticed what he did. “Awww poor baby” you say squatting next to him. He pouts and gives you puppy eyes saying “Y/N my head hurts, I think the only thing that will make it feel better is if YOU kiss it.” “Oh really?” “Yep!” You giggle before caving in and kissing the top of his head. Insert Nishinoya hard core blushing, Tanaka crying in the corner because he wants Kyoko to do that to him, and the whole Karasuno team staring at you guys in a state of shock.

❥Taketora Yamamoto❥

Random little notes

He will slide them in your locker, or put one on your desk before class.

Kenma, Kuroo, and Lev try to help him with ideas of what to write

Lev gets his sister to also help

You enter your classroom excited to see what your secret admirer has left for you today. Walking up to your desk you pick up a folded piece of paper with a flower taped to it. You open up the note, but before you could read it the bell rings, signaling that class is starting. So you put the note in your bag real quick, and decide to read it at lunch. Eventually lunch comes around and you finally decide to read it.

“Dear Y/N,

Please meet me at the front gates after school. I'll be waiting for you my love.”

Even though the note was a little bland, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenalin coming over you after reading it. Cause how could you not be intrigued by the possibility of this letter being written by your beloved crush, Yamamoto. After school you rush to the front gate. Only to be met by another note telling you to go to the gym instead. Raising your suspicion even more, you rush over to the gym. And you can't believe your eyes. Somehow Yamamoto got the Nekoma team to do a whole acapella group. You can't tell if you should be scared or happy. Giggling you start to walk closer to the group. Only to be met by Yamamoto profusely blushing and holding a bokay of flowers. “H-Hello Y/N” Yamamoto says without making any eye contact with you. Before you could say anything, Yaku comes up behind Yamamoto and kicks his shin. “WTH yaku?” Yamamoto whispers to the libero behind him. “I know you did not force all of us to sing a whole ass song just for you to not make any eye contact with the girl.” “I'm trying man, I swear.” Yamamoto turns back around and continues where he left off. “Umm Y/N will you go out on a date with me this thursday!?” He screams, with his eyes shut. “Idiot you still aren't looking at her.” Kenma mumbles, trying to get his Nintendo back from Kuroo. “I'd love to!” Oh only if you had your phone with you, cause the face Yamamoto made when he heard you say that was way too adorable. Mans was literally crying.

[justimajin]

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.10 [M]

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

↳ (4.2k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating: unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, body insecurity (result of physical markings), slight body worship, hints of sexual tension

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

➟ Last Update: Friday, February 19

The moment your eyes catch onto a patch of black hair within the crowd, you freeze in place. 

Jung Hoseok appears just as you remember him. Lips tugged up into a playful smile, mischief dancing in his eyes and adorned in a black suit that easily conceals away any weaponry he stows away. Despite his traits, the sleek material fails to hide the circles lining his twinkling eyes, his posture sunken and suit appearing oversized as if he had lost some weight with time. 

You decipher his appearance within seconds, and when your observant eyes snap over to Namjoon, you already know he’s done the same. 

The two of you stay stationed in the corner, afar from the crowd. Jimin stands off to the corner opposite you as Seokjin darts his eyes around, taking careful steps towards the shareholder before he decides to engage with him. 

There’s a whimsical expression on Seokjin’s features that mimics Hoseok, hands curved around a glass of champagne that he raises. 

“Jung Hoseok.” He counters, “I haven’t seen you around in quite some time.” 

Hoseok turns, a crease in between the brows from the sudden call of his name, but once his eyes come into contact with Seokjin’s, his regular demeanor shifts back. 

“Since you know my name along with my record, why don’t you tell me where you know me from?” 

Seokjin smiles, “You’re one of Kim Namjoon’s shareholders, right?” 

There’s a glint in Hoseok’s eyes and his grin immediately falls, something that has Seokjin’s eyes narrowing, before it abruptly returns. 

“I am.” 

Seokjin hums, “It was just a question, no need to get so surprised.” He leans forward, eyes hardening as his voice drops into a whisper, “Unless, there is some reason for you to be….” 

Hoseok grits his teeth, looking away for a moment. His disdain is heavy and he glares at Seokjin, who slyly smiles back. 

“What do you know?” 

A light chuckle leaves Seokjin, “I think the question you should be asking is, what do I not know?” 

He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit, revealing a creased piece of paper that he hands to Hoseok. The latter tilts his head, unfolding the sheet that reveals a photograph.

Hoseok’s eyes widen, “If you need to recall the memory, his name is Kim Minhyuk.” Seokjin sips his champagne as he whispers, eyeing the shareholder, “Strange for someone of your status to be interacting with someone that has been known to get his hands dirty for the right price, don’t you think?” 

The paper is instantly crumbled within his hands, and Hoseok snarls at him, “How much?” 

Seokjin glances at him intrigued, “What? Money?” He snorts, “Oh, it’s going to take much more to silence me.” 

Hoseok fists up his jacket, “Listen here‒” 

“I wouldn’t ruin the suit, it was fairly costly for what it was worth.” Seokjin gestures to his hold and Hoseok let's go in annoyance. 

“Who are you working for?” 

A smirk spreads across Seokjin’s features. 

“Turn around.” 

The sound of a deep voice from behind Hoseok startles him, and as he does as he’s told, all the colour instantly drains from his features. 

Namjoon tilts his head to the side, piercing eyes scrutinizing the shareholder. 

Immediately, an excuse tumbles out. “N-Namjoon! I-I didn’t think you would be here….” 

“Of course you didn’t,” He smirks, “I’m alive after all.” 

If Hoseok was scared before, he was downright terrified now. 

Namjoon steps forward, and Hoseok bolts. 

Seokjin whips his head around and Jimin immediately leaves his corner, running after him. Hoseok pushes past protesting guests without any qualms, sprinting into one of the hallways as Jimin pursues him. 

“This way!” Jimin hastily shouts. His brows suddenly contort with surprise, but then he curses underneath his breath as Hoseok slips from his sight, completely disappearing. 

Namjoon hurriedly rushes forward a bit late, peering in both directions. 

“Where is he?” Seokjin wonders and Jimin rubs his temples, squinting in the direction. 

“There was a woman.” He abruptly whispers, glancing at the two, “I saw them together before her and Hoseok split apart into different paths.”

“A woman?” Seokjin wonders. 

“I know.” Jimin muses, “She looked young, but I wasn’t too sure.” 

“So he wasn’t choosing to run away, but instead ran to someone…” Seokjin slowly utters, shaking his head, “Whatever it is, we have to find him.” 

“Don’t worry.” Namjoon states, a twinkle in his dark eyes, “He won’t get too far.”

***

Hoseok runs as fast as he can, sweat beginning to trickle down his features. He peers behind himself, acclaiming himself of at least getting away in time. 

Abruptly, he’s sent flying towards the ground. His hands barely break his fall, harshly slamming right against it. 

The sound of a trigger cocking alerts him, and right as he glances up, the sight of a gun pointed towards his head. 

You stare down at him with a triumphant expression. 

Hoseok grits his teeth, a sound of dismay leaving him. You reach down, grabbing onto his hands before securing them behind his back. 

You soon catch sight of Seokjin from afar and you usher towards him as Namjoon and Jimin follow behind. 

As Seokjin helps you lift him from the ground, his eyes are frantically darting around, as if searching for something. 

“What wrong?” Seokjin wonders, “Lose something?” 

Hoseok sneers, “Like I’ll tell you anything.” 

Seokjin smiles, tightening his hold, “We’ll see how long you can keep that up.” 

Night falls as Namjoon paces back and forth in the hallway, fiddling around with the hem of his sleeve. The door to his right abruptly widens, a tired Seokjin emerging out. 

He instantly steps forward and Seokjin sighs, “He kept true to his word.” 

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, “He’s not talking?” 

Seokjin hums, “A lot more stubborn than I gave him credit for.” He gestures towards the door, “Jimin’s still there with hopes of getting something out, but he’s holding onto everything as if his life is on the line.” 

“That’s odd,” He whispers, “If being threatened to force out information isn’t horrible enough, I wonder what is…” 

“I agree, it seemed like he had a lot to tell me before, but now…” Seokjin shakes his head, “Maybe he thinks we’ll hesitate in killing him.” 

There’s a sharp glint in Namjoon’s eyes, “Have you told him otherwise?” 

Seokjin snorts, “No, but he isn’t wrong.” He adds, “We do need him to tell us about his connections.” 

Namjoon hums and the door cranks open again as Jimin emerges out. Both him and Seokjin turn at the same time, glancing at the man’s distressed appearance. 

“Nothing so far,” He huffs for a moment, before staring at the two of them peculiarly, “But he said one thing that’s been bothering me a lot.” 

“What?” Seokjin wonders. 

Jimin stands up straighter, bafflement crossing him. 

“He said we’re fools for thinking that he’s the one pulling the strings.”

Seokjin scrunches up his nose and Namjoon cocks his head to the side, clearly as perplexed as Jimin from the saying. 

“That’s it?” Namjoon asks. 

Jimin sighs, “That’s it.” 

“Well, this just got a lot more damn complicated.” Seokjin shakes his head, before gesturing to Jimin, “Take a break, I’ll have to spend a couple more hours with him to get something else out.” 

Jimin nods, fatigued from the demanding interactions. 

Once Jimin leaves, Namjoon’s voice drops into a whisper, “We’re fools for thinking he’s the one pulling the strings….” 

Seokjin narrows his eyes and lets out a sigh, mind still swimming with the response. “As if suggesting that he’s innocent….” 

“Maybe it's the woman.” Namjoon’s eyes snap up as Seokjin reminds him, “Hoseok’s first instinct was to run to her.” 

He nods, “Though I don’t think we can trust him on this, he could be trying to cover himself up. Or someone else, for that matter.” 

Namjoon hums, fingers pressed against his lips as he dwells deeper into thought. Seokjin leans over, patting his back and his eyes peer up at him.  

“Why don’t you go get some rest? This whole fiasco won’t be figured out until he talks and that...might take a while.” 

He gestures to the gun sticking out from his jacket and Namjoon lets out a frustrated sigh from the notion. 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He wonders. 

Seokjin softly shakes his head, “He’ll talk with the right persuasion, trust me. And besides….” 

There’s a small smirk lingering on Seokjin’s lips, playfulness practically twinkling in his eyes. He points upward, gesturing to the upper floor. 

“Y/N actually left a couple of minutes ago.” 

At the mere mention of your name, there’s a flush that scatters over Namjoon, skin nearly akin to being feverish. Seokjin’s smile widens, restraining a small laugh that seeks to slip out of his mouth. 

“I-Is that so?” Namjoon mumbles, his eyes darting everywhere. When they connect with Seokjin’s, he sheepishly laughs, “I, uh‒ suppose you’re right.” 

Seokjin hums, but he can’t conceal the amused smile that crosses him. 

Bidding his friend good luck, Namjoon gyrates around, promptly heading to his room as fast as he can. 

***

Namjoon’s eyes are glued to the sight of the door. 

He’s reached his room, pupils having traced the outlines and shape of the wood, handle practically right in front of him ‒ but he remains planted in place, as if someone had poured lead into his shoes. 

His hand reaches up, rubbing against his temples as a sigh leaves him.

The last time you were in a room together he could barely control himself. And this time, standing right in front of your shared room’s door, he knows that control is on the edge of completely shattering. 

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he peers at the door again and takes a deep breath. 

His hand reaches out for the handle. 

He quietly walks in, hastily ensuring the door is fully closed before saying anything. Turning around, there’s a soft smile on his lips, warmth brimming in his eyes. 

“Y/N, I‒” 

His breath instantly hitches, form completely freezing. 

Your startled eyes snap up in an instant. There’s drops of water falling from the strands of your hair onto the damp carpet, one of your hands resting against the wall next to a small door to your left. Your other hand is tightly fisting the material of the long towel that covers your form, struggling to keep it in place. 

At the sight of Namjoon gawking, you fumble with your words, “N-Namjoon….I-I didn’t think you would be back s-so soon…” 

A light chuckle leaves you, a fevernet shade of scarlet taking over your features. He continues to stare at you, and you break into a fit of rambles to explain the situation. 

“I-I’ve been having a hard time bathing!” You laugh again, “So I tried to quickly wash up before bed, but it’s been difficult….moving around and whatnot…” 

Your eyes are fixated on the ground, barely able to meet his own through your explanation. It feels like an eternity until Namjoon finally clears his throat, the sound of his footsteps growing louder. 

He’s a mere inches away from you, outstretching his arm, “Let me help you.” 

Nothing seems to leave your lips at the suggestion. You hastily nod, still unable to make eye contact as you reach out and grasp onto his sleeve. However the moment you do so, you unfortunately can’t stop to take notice of the way one of his hands slips behind you to steady your back. 

A sudden rush of heat is brought upon on you and you internally curse yourself for being so flustered in his presence. On the other hand, Namjoon tenses when you lean against him, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. 

He gently guides you towards the bathroom again, carefully waiting as you struggle with the occasional steps and fumble around with the towel clinging to your body. Not paying enough attention to your surroundings results in you taking one step too close, nearly toppling down until a weight stops you. 

Your eyes glance up in surprise at Namjoon, who managed to shift himself before you were sent smacking against the ground. You wouldn’t normally hesitate to thank him for the gesture, but his eyes immediately connect with yours and the words can’t seem to form anymore. 

The warmth in his eyes disappears within seconds and is replaced with the carnal gaze you’ve become far too familiar with. You’re only a handful of inches away from him, his breath intermingling with yours the longer you stare at each other. 

Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between you this time, arms looping around your waist in an instant. 

A burst of electricity tingles through your skin, his soft lips molding ravenously against your own. You push back with just as much desire, fiercely kissing him as your hands fist the material of his jacket. 

It’s not long before that jacket is being pushed off his shoulders completely and your back hits against the wall, a gasp escaping from your lips until his mouth crashes against yours, tongue slipping in within seconds. 

A deep moan leaves Namjoon when you loop your arms around his neck, fingers weaving into the soft strands before tugging against them. You’re abruptly being lifted up from the waist, lips still connected to his until you’re suddenly falling down, hands finding purchase within the soft material of your bed. 

Namjoon remains underneath you when you lean down to kiss him again, strands of your damp hair ticking his features and soaking through the fabric of his shirt. Your hands eagerly fumble around with his tie, growing exasperated within minutes when it refuses to come undone despite all your tugging. You can feel Namjoon smiling into your kiss, knowing that he’s holding back a laugh from your efforts. 

A desperate whine leaves you and that’s when he makes the decision to halt his teasing, spinning you around so that he hovers above you. He roughly tugs at the material and the sound of a harsh snap leaves your eyes widening, before he leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips. 

He aids you in hastily undoing his buttons, letting a chuckle slip out when an exhale of relief leaves you from the last one. The material easily slips off his shoulders and although you’re eager to finally have flesh, you have to try your hardest to control your gawking eyes. 

To your complete surprise, your hands come into contact with muscle when you run your hands against him, noticing the bulkiness of his arms and chest. As if he knows he’s rendered you speechless, Namjoon coaxes your surprise by briefly connecting your lips, before descending to the juncture of your neck. 

A mewl nearly leaves you at the hot open mouthed kisses he leaves behind, serving to stroke the heat that pools between your legs. When his thumbs begin to move against the rough material of your towel, his carnal eyes snap up to meet yours, silently asking for your wishes to continue. 

Although you nervously bite down on your lip, you ultimately decide to answer him with a nod. With one flick of his wrist, the cloth is tossed onto the ground, leaving you completely bare beneath him. 

At the sight of confusion spurring in Namjoon’s eyes, you sheepishly look away. You’re not completely sure of what he was expecting, but from the way his brows are drawn together and there’s a pang of hurt in his eyes, you can tell he’s at a loss for words. 

Even though you know you’ve been through a lot, your body takes it sweet time to heal. There’s still a wound healing from the time you were shot from Taehyung and obscene injuries littering the entirety of your legs from the time you were kidnapped. It’s coupled with a handful of clumsily sewn together old bullet wounds, long having engraved themselves into your skin from the past. 

Namjoon takes it in for a moment, but when you fidget underneath his gaze, he leans closer to you. 

“No, don’t.” He stops your hand from sliding over, attempting to cover up a piece of reality you had become uncomfortably close to, “Please, don’t, I‒” 

He softly smiles, leaning down to whisper to you, “You’re beautiful. You’re so, so beautiful.” 

A smile cracks onto your lips and although you’re aware that he’s called you beautiful before, there’s something about the way he says it now that has your vision fogging. He presses his forehead against yours with a smile as you lightly laugh, pecking your lips hastily. Your body suddenly jolts in retaliation, eyes flickering over at him in astonishment. 

He kisses against your legs, right where your prominent ones have recently surfaced, before he shifts to press his lips against all the other ones. It makes you squirmish within his hold, his touch bringing shivers down your spine. 

Abruptly a sear of pleasure thrums through your body, vision going hazy. Namjoon’s hands roam around the swell of your breasts, before his fingers fondle the skin again and pinch against the eroding buds. You wither from his ministrations, sucking in a sharp inhale when he envelopes one of them within the heat of his mouth. 

Bliss fills your veins, the gratifying sensation coiling need within the pit of your stomach and dampening your aching core. You shift against him, desperately needing some relief from the agonizing heat that only seems to grow. 

“N-Namjoon...” 

As if he already knows, his lips halt their ministrations before drawing all his attention to your seeping centre. His fingers are quick to swirl against the muscle, and when he notices you immediately shudder, he doesn’t hesitate to latch his mouth onto your clit. 

“Oh my god‒” Your hands fervently grasp onto the bed sheets, eyes squeezing shut as he continues to circle his tongue against your sex. Moans are slipping out from your lips, your chest heaving as a sheen of sweat begins to cover you. 

A sharp cry escapes you when he slips a finger into your heat, joining in with the rhythms of his mouth. Your thighs quiver against him as he adds another, abruptly curling up his digits in a way that completely blurs your vision and has his name tumbling from your lips. 

The friction builds up until it’s too much, barely having the chance to tell him that you’re close to the brink of losing it all. The chord within you snaps before a wave of euphoria is washing over you, core pulsating and clenching around Namjoon’s fingers. Exhales are leaving you as your eyes focus back, your chest rising and falling. 

You grimace as he slips his hand out, raising his head to softly brush his lips against yours. A content sigh leaves you, the taste of your residue lingering on his mouth. 

Namjoon shifts for a moment, and from the corner of your eye you see him beginning to unbutton his trousers. He kicks the flimsy material away and settles himself between your thighs, his throbbing length pressing against your skin. 

He rests his elbows on either side of you, his gaze intent as he pants, “Do you....do you want this?” 

“Yes,” You breathe out, and Namjoon nods, before reaching down to align himself with your centre. His head probes at your opening for a moment, until he begins to push inside. 

You immediately grip onto his shoulders, nails digging right in. Namjoon peers up at you in hesitation, but you shake your head and encourage him to continue. 

He goes as slow as possible, the stretch eliciting beads of pain to shoot through you. When he bottoms out, you’re surprised you haven’t been split at the seams. He lets out a groan, eyes screwing shut as he rests his head against your neck. 

Small huffs are leaving you as the pain contorts into something else, a scorching heat that only intensifies as your core clenches. 

Your hands tighten around his shoulders, “Namjoon, move.” 

He glances up in surprise, but doesn’t take long to fulfill your request. A sharp thrust has you gasping, grasping onto him as it contorts into a wanton moan. Your reaction urges him on more as he thrusts into you again, earning a breathy call of his name to slip from your lips. 

Namjoon quickens his pace, before he’s slamming into you with as much vigor as he can. Your back is arching, attempting to meet the strong jerk is his hips half-way. His thrusts are a mixture of deep and aggressive, feverishly quenching the insatiable hunger that consumes you. 

Your name falls from his lips when you begin to clench against him, and he instantly reaches towards where your bodies are connected, circling against the sensitive bud that draws tears to your eyes. 

“Namjoon.” You choke out, pleasure threatening to eat you alive. Your pleas of his name are muffled by his lips, his thrusts and ministrations growing his strength. In the midst of this, he whispers against your mouth, your hazy eyes instantly connecting. 

If it weren’t for the proximity, you would have easily missed it.  

I love you. 

“I-I love you, too.” You pant, his brows contorting as he lets out a groan. 

Your release rips through you, legs wrapping against him and battered core clenching against Namjoon’s hasty thrusts. Your vision blurs out, electricity humming through your form until it fizzles out. 

Namjoon roughly thrusts against you one last time before he’s coming, his seed coating your damp walls and dripping out of your opening. He collapses against your gasping form, his breaths intermingling with yours through the silence. 

You reach out, softly running a hand against his soaked back before tangling your fingers within his dampened locks. He tilts his head to the side, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then leaning back. 

He carefully slips out of you, a mixture of your combined releases leaking out of your core. He rises from the bed as you lay there, returning with a moist cloth that he gently taps against your swollen core. 

The blanket is tugged up as Namjoon settles in, warmth already surrounding you from his embrace alone. A lazy smile curves on his lips, his features mirroring your content expression as you welcome sleep with open arms. 

Namjoon is awoken with a gentle shake to his shoulder. 

His eyes briefly flutter, refusing to open as a sound of protest leaves him. His shoulder is shaken again, but this time it’s rougher. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice whispers from behind him, “Namjoon, please wake up.” 

There’s a sense of urgency in your words and it’s the single thing that causes Namjoon to roll over, his eyes squinting through the lack of lighting. You hover above him, hair still tousled and the blanket covering you slipping from your shoulders, but your eyes frantically search his features. 

“Y/N…” He croaks, voice husky from sleep, “What is it...?” 

You bite down nervously on your lip and Namjoon’s confusion only deepens. 

“I-I….I think I saw someone.” You profess, “Outside.” 

At that, Namjoon’s eyes flash open. He bolts upright, leaning towards you and directing his gaze towards the window. 

“Through there?” He points and you immediately nod, watching him scramble out of the sheets and pacing over to the glass. 

You closely follow behind, peering over his shoulder, “It was almost like a shadow...I thought I was hearing things at first but then I just saw‒”

As if on cue, his eyes catch onto it. Like a faint blur in the darkness of the night sky, his pupils narrow onto the faint movement. 

He spins around, orbs coming into contact with yours. “We need to know who that is.” 

You nod, swiveling around and then walking towards the bedroom cupboards for some clothes. By the time you manage to find a nightgown, Namjoon already has his trousers on, hands rummaging around for his shirt. 

He slips his arms through it as you adjust your straps, concerned eyes peering at you as he hurriedly does the buttons. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a firm nod. 

The door quietly creaks open as Namjoon gazes around, gesturing with his hand for you to follow him. The pair of you descend down the stairs carefully, eyes racking around for any sight of movement. 

There’s absolutely nothing ‒ an eerie silence reigning over the house instead. It’s truthfully unsettling, and you find yourself unconsciously drifting over to Namjoon’s side, slipping your fingers within his. 

Once you reach the front door, Namjoon tightens his grip on you. He slowly pushes against it, attempting not to wince at the gush of wind that spills in. As silent as it is inside the house, being outside doesn’t seem to help. 

You and Namjoon instantly separate, searching around the area with the notion that either of you will alert the other from finding something. But no matter how much you peer around, even specifically searching in the region where your window was, there seems to be no one in sight. 

The two of you return inside when it feels like your fingers and toes are prepared to fall off from the icy cold, confusion evident in your shared glance.

[yutahoes]

Otou-Chan

(Special Chapter)

requested by anon and this anon. (Your wish is my command. But I feel like it’s lacking. Sorry)

This is just a special chapter from Otou-Chan. Please see masterlist for the full story. Thank you. 

Warning: Explicit Smut (Marking, Fondling, Oral - Receiving and Giving, Degradation Kink, Squirting, Breeding, Overstimulation (?), and there’s another one that I don’t know how to tag.), Pregnancy, Couvade Syndrome, Fluff

Word Count : 3.7k  

Tag: @ailoveyuta​

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

"Ai?" Yuta called in a soft voice, careful not to wake up his wife. It's one of those days again that he came home late from work. To his surprise, (Y/N) called from the kitchen where she's currently doing the dishes. "Hey." he greeted once he found her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Why are you still up?" he asked and noticed the time on the wall, 12:30. Is it this late already? 

The girl finished the plates then turned to him, seeing him still in his suit and dress shirt, tie hanging loosely from his neck. "I finished my artwork late," she claimed as she watched him remove his wristwatch and set it on the table. That gesture made him so hot that she bit her lip, wanting to pounce at him. But he looked so tired. She gulped when he glanced at her, knowing full well that he caught her checking him out. "Overtime?" she asked and he nodded, sitting down. 

The girl went behind him, holding his shoulders and giving them a light squeeze that made him visibly relax. "Did you eat? I'll just heat up something." 

Yuta held her right hand situated on his shoulder as he shook his head. "I had dinner," he claimed. "Coffee will be great." And she smiled, moving across the kitchen to get the coffee maker and prepare him the drink. The sudden loss of her physical touch made him sigh, maybe it's not coffee that he wanted. 

He was admiring her backside while doing the coffee, her long hair, thin waist, and sexy hips. Even her legs look great on the shorts she's wearing. But that's not the best part of her. Lately, he figured that he's obsessed about one thing from her, wanting to touch them all the time that it's making him crazy. 

(Y/N) was surprised when she felt her husband's presence behind her, arms wrapped on her body. She hummed when he gave her a back hug, head nuzzling on the crook of her neck. He gave her a wet kiss on the neck that made her giggle. "I have a class tomorrow afternoon. The director will be mad at me if he sees a hickey on me again." And Yuta chuckled, remembering that one time when her college class kept on teasing her for having a bright reddish bruise on her neck. 

His hands found themselves on the spot that he liked the most, giving it a little squeeze that made her chuckle. "No hickey. Got it," he whispered as he put butterfly kisses on her exposed neck, kneading her breasts. She just smiled at how needy Yuta is being, liking how he massaged her mounds and played with the protruding nipples.

Although he doesn't say anything about work, she noticed the sudden shift in his attitude when he got the chairman position of their company. He became needier and she equated it to the stress that he's getting. It's evident actually, he became thinner since he started managing the whole company. He really is working hard. "Yuta, are you alright at work?" she asked and he leaned in closer as if answering her question. She realized that ever since they both started a career move, it was always her who would tell him about things. 

"I'm just too stressed right now," he mumbled. "I think I'm just too fed up at work lately. Sorry if I'm ignoring you, baby." 

But (Y/N) shook her head and turned to face him. "That's not it. You're always giving me too much," she claimed cutely then bit her lip. Yuta smiled at the sudden change of expression, how can someone be cute and sexy at the same time? "I should be the one apologizing for always being needy and whiny," she claimed then removed his suit, letting it drop on the floor. "So..." she started with a lot of mischief in her voice, fingers undoing the button of his dress shirt. "Since you can't give me a hickey, I'll give you one instead," she claimed then sucked Yuta's chest, making him groan sexily. She licked the spot and gave it a kiss before admiring the red spot she created in contrast to his white skin. "Come to think of it, one isn't enough." And she started sucking spots on his chest, putting color on his pale skin. 

"Oh God, (Y/N)," he called when she bent down to give his stomach marks as well, licking the sensitive navel piercing which she liked so much. Her tongue traced the butterfly tattoo on the side of his stomach. The tattoo he got to divert his mind from the pain of missing her for years. 

She knelt down and it surprised him when she removed his pants, putting down his boxers that it's a pool under him now. "Baby," he called and she shushed him while fisting his growing member. Yuta closed his eyes shut when she kissed the side of his cock, biting his lip to prevent a series of groans to emerge. 

He honestly wanted to try this for a long time, to ask her to suck him but he seriously thought that there's time for everything. And probably, now is the time for this. She gave the tip a lick, kissing it as it oozed precum. "Baby." he called once again, "You shouldn't do this if you're not comfortable," he noted, looking down on her. Damn, she looked so hot kneeling in front of him like that. His wife's hand didn't leave his cock the whole time then smiled before doing the deed. 

Her mouth was really hot or maybe because his cock was really sensitive now but it felt so good that groans escaped his lips. The girl sucked his cock, playing with it inside her mouth and even fondling his balls. His hands reached for her hair, tugging it in a ponytail as he bobbed her head up and down on his cock. Yuta hissed, badly wishing his control wouldn't spill out, but with a mouth so good like this how can he not fuck her mouth? 

"Baby, you're so good." he complimented as the hold on hair got tighter. (Y/N) swallowed his cock, deepthroating him that made him groan. "Oh God, (Y/N)." And that was it, his control going down the drain. He thrusts into her mouth with so much power that if not for his hold on her hair, she might bump her head on the counter. He kept on groaning as he fuck her mouth and felt himself cumming in no time. His cum filled her throat and some dropped on her mouth, even licking the excess from his cock, swallowing it. 

Yuta gave her an adoring smile as he wiped some excess from her lips and she sucked his finger that made him look at her lustfully. "I'm sorry baby," he said then gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, actually tasting himself. "I got carried away." 

But the girl shook her head. "I'm not done with you yet." tracing a finger on the marks that she had done on his body. "Coffee or me?" she asked playfully and he chuckled while muttering her name. "Thought so," she claimed as the plug for the coffeemaker was pulled. 

Their lips were together once again as they struggle to get to their bedroom and she pushed him on the bed, removing her shirt and sitting on top of him. Yuta can't believe that he's already naked, yet here she is, in her bra and shorts. "This is so unfair, you should get naked as well." he revolted which made her laugh. She gave him a kiss then bit the lower part of his lip. "But this is about you for the meantime. I want to make you feel good," she said then sucked a spot by his neck that made him groan. She started filling his skin with red patches that would obviously show in the next few days. 

Her kisses went south until she reached his semi-hard cock and she placed a quick kiss on his tip. (Y/N) removed her bra but before he can hold her breasts, she placed his cock in between them and started thrusting it up and down. The visual and pleasure are too much for Yuta. 

Before, he can only see this in porn or when Jaehyun tells him about his sexcapades but now, his wife, the vanilla type of girl, is making him experience getting fucked by her breasts. He then realized how special a woman's body is. There's no limit on the pleasure that they're giving. 

He came and semen spurted out of his cock, covering her breasts that made her so delectable. Once recovered from his high, he pushed her to bed and started licking his cum off her. He really loved her breasts that he would want to always suck on them and play with them. (Y/N) would moan at the contact of his tongue to her nipples, pulling his hair to enjoy the sensation. His mouth kissed her stomach and she moaned. "Yuta..." she called. "I want to make you feel good..." she whined but he didn't stop his adventure of going south until he's at the waistband of her shorts. "Fuck, Yuta." And she knew what will happen now that he's pulling down her shorts and underwear. 

His tongue immediately licked her clit and she moaned, arching her back at the sensation. Damn, Yuta Nakamoto and his mouth. He parted her legs and started fucking her with his tongue, making her scream in pleasure. His thumb started circling her clit as he alternated the sucking and licking of her pussy. (Y/N) could feel her soul being sucked by Yuta's mouth. And yes, that's how amazing he is. She came in no time, letting him suck everything. 

He grinned while rubbing his mouth using the back of his hand and that gesture looked so sexy, so deadly. "Oh, God. Fuck me," she exclaimed that made him smirk. "Your wish is my command, princess," Yuta mumbled while jerking his cock and positioning it on her entrance, making her nod. His cock sank inside her and he groaned at how tight she is, like a virgin never fucked before. And the thought that it's only him fucking this cunt made the beast in him growl that instead of the usual gentle thrusts, he was jerking into her violently. He wanted to break her, to loosen up that tight pussy and make her so sore that she won't be able to sit in the next few days. 

Fuck, (Y/N) thought, Yuta is so rough but she doesn't want to complain. Not when sex is this good. She could feel her body being thrown to bed with each thrust and his cock hitting her in the pleasure spot. With the way that he is going, she's sure to get so sore tomorrow. Should she just call in sick tomorrow? 

"Yuta!" she shouted as one hand grabbed the headboard and the other scratch his back, wanting something to claw on. He was jerking into her real hard that she can hear his balls slamming against her skin. "Yes, fuck baby." he cursed while jerking in her in such power and speed, driving both their orgasms. She came with a mind rippling orgasm and immediately felt him filling her up. What surprised her is when he didn't pull away after cumming in her. "Yuta..." she called but he just gave her a kiss on the neck.

"God, I'm sorry." He whispered, still hovering above her. "Are you hurt?" 

She giggled at that, remembering the time they had sex before meeting his dad in the hotel room. "I'm fine. You're underestimating me, Otou-chan." She mumbled while threading her fingers through his hair. "I think I'm ovulating. Why am I so horny?" 

It was now his turn to laugh. How adorable. "Then I'll fuck you real good that you'll be so sore." A moan escaped her lips when his fingers rubbed her clit. "When someone asks you what happened, you're going to tell everyone that you became such a sex toy for daddy." She screamed when he slapped her throbbing core and he raised an eyebrow at her. "You like this, my whore?" A husky moan escaped her lips when he repeated the same action. 

She's turned on. This is her kink? "You are such a horny slut, (Y/N)." It made her wetter as possible, making Yuta amused. Three fingers entered her that she tried closing her legs but he pried them open. "Are you close, my whore?" he asked, still rubbing her clit while fingering her vagina.

 Her muffled cries were all Yuta could hear as well as the squelching sound of his fingers inside her. She is so wet and so hot. (Y/N)'s face was filled with too much unadulterated pleasure that makes him so turned on and so hard. "Yuta. Fuck!" she shouted as she squirted much to the guy's delight. She was trembling in pleasure as the liquid poured outside her vagina as if she peed. Fuck it, Yuta is so amazing for making her a mess like this. The girl felt light-headed at what happened and he just smirked like being proud of himself. "I bet I can do that again," he claimed that made her groan when he rolled on top of her, jerking his hard cock before entering her pussy hole. Damn it, she's really going to be so sore tomorrow. 

He started thrusting into her, steady and in such a pace that made him almost inhumane. Fuck Yuta and his stamina, this will really be the death of her. Because of the stimulation earlier, his cock was almost sliding inside her due to her wetness. He kept on thrusting inside her, the bed squeaking in protests as her moans filled the room. He really had the goal to make her have difficulty in walking tomorrow, doesn't he? "Oh fuck!" she kept on screaming, hands gripping the bedsheet for something to claw on at how pleasurable everything is. If this continues on, they'll definitely top the sex they had in Paris and she'll probably be full in the brim with his cum. 

God. At this rate, she's surely getting pregnant soon. 

--

Yuta woke up feeling chills all over his body. It's weird, he's not like this last night. He even enjoyed dinner with his family. Is he feeling ill all of a sudden? His stomach was churning that he ran to the bathroom quickly, vomiting whatever it is that is inside his stomach. "Are you sick?" (Y/N) asked, leaning on the doorway of the bathroom with a glass of water. "Did you drink with otousan last night?" 

He nodded, remembering sake but it's only glass. He's not drunk. "I feel nauseous." Then shook his head. "I'm fine. I'll go downstairs after this." She nodded asking him again if he wanted to drink any medicine but he shook his head, repeating that he's fine. 

(Y/N) was helping in the kitchen when Yuta came down asking for a glass of water. She offered a cup of coffee but he declined, stomach churning at the smell of caffeine. What is wrong with him? "I'm still sleepy." 

"You just woke up." his dad claimed, laughing at him. The older was spreading peanut butter in his toast when he noticed (Y/N) putting freshly cut apples in between the peanut butter sandwich. 

This action caught his stepmom's eye. Oh, she gets it now. "(Y/N), when was the last time you had your period?" She was still munching on her treat when she looked at the older. She didn't actually think about her period. Why? "I think you two are pregnant." 

--

It's weird that instead of her, Yuta is the one experiencing the symptoms of pregnancy. He would wake up vomiting or even get really sleepy. "You must have really loved your wife." Her doctor would always note whenever Yuta has questions about her pregnancy and its symptoms. Even when his friends found out that they're pregnant, they kept on teasing him for liking (Y/N) so much. 

Yuta does, as a matter of fact. How fascinating is it to be a woman? Imagine bearing a child for nine months inside you, experiencing vomiting every morning and restlessness. And all he could do is watch and wait. She had these unusual cravings like mango or tamarind in the middle of the night and he cannot complain, she's doing too much.

She would have these heavy mood swings where she changes into another person instantly. She would easily cry while watching a movie, sobbing as if she's the main character then would laugh too much after the movie. And it's adorable, honestly. 

Another thing that he cannot wrap his head to is her obsession with him. Whenever he would return home at night, she would wrap his arms around him telling him that she loves him so much which made him giggle. At night, she would make it a point that their bodies are touching even if her belly is starting to protrude. In the mornings, she would cling to him and whine about leaving her at home that would put a smile on his face for the whole day. Really adorable. 

--

"Yuta…" she called from the bedroom, sobbing. The guy stood up from the couch in worry, leaving his laptop on top of the coffee table. She was sprawled on the floor, in the middle of their bedroom, surrounded by her clothes. "I'm too fat. I can't fit my clothes anymore."

He sighed then kneeled in front of her, wiping her tears. She's in her last trimester, just two months before their little bean comes out. "Love, you have a lot of maternity dresses." 

Her cries got louder and he panicked. Did he say something wrong? "I want to look good beside you. You're practically a God and I look like a pig beside you." 

"A cute piggy." And she slapped his arm that made him whine in pain, laughing. "You are still the prettiest woman in my eyes. The cutest, the sexiest…" 

"Even if I don't fit my clothes anymore?" 

Yuta nodded. She's really cute. "You can wear my clothes." He smirked. "Or you can just be naked here in the house, I wouldn't complain anyway." Another slap and he giggled, wiping her tears. "Even if you grow another eye or another limb, I'll still love you as much." 

That is convincing enough since she stopped crying. "Do you want some ice cream? I'll get some. Then we can watch some Death Note." 

She beamed at that. "Can you get me potato chips as well?" He nodded, kissing her forehead. "And green mangoes?" Unusual food choices. 

He smiled warmly at her. The wonders of being pregnant. "I'll clean this up. Wait for me outside." 

"Yuta…" He hummed, still focused on the clothes scattered on the floor. "I love you." 

He smiled on her way. "I love you, sweetcakes." Then returned to what he was doing. 

"Sweetcakes?" She repeated, a strain present on her voice. "Are you seeing someone else?" (Y/N) sobbed. "Is it because I'm too fat?" Shit, he thought, here we go again. Fuck these mood swings of hers. 

--

"Don't panic," Yuta exclaimed, driving his wife to the hospital. Luckily, he was at home when her water broke. Their princess must have decided to see the world a week earlier than her supposed due date. "I said don't panic." He shouted that made her laugh. She's not. Except for the slight pain in her stomach, she's pretty calm unlike him. 

The fear of her childbirth came to her when she saw the hospital. What if something bad happens to her and her child? What if she's really not ready yet to be a mom? What if Yuta suddenly realizes that this is not what he wants? "Don't leave me." She begged her husband, holding his hand tight. 

Yuta hushed her, brushing her hair away from her face. "I'm here. You'll be fine." He mumbled then kissed her forehead. "Hikari will be fine." 

Hikari. Light. Her obsession with Death Note led to her name and Yuta was just relieved that they had a daughter, at least they wouldn't name their son L. 

Childbirth. If he thought a woman is amazing by getting pregnant, his admiration grew while watching his wife give birth. Sweat and tears streamed her face and all he could do is accept the pain when she clawed her nails on his arm or pulled out his hair. God, he wished he could take away the pain she's feeling. "I don't think I can do this, Yuta." She cried when the doctor asked for one last push. "It's too painful." 

He kissed her forehead then wiped her tears. "You're doing great, love. Just one last push." He muttered. "For Hikari." 

"For Hikari." She repeated then breathed hard, garnering all her energy for that last push. Her hands were tightly clutching on Yuta's as he mumbled repeatedly that she's doing so well. 

A cry resonated inside the whole delivery room and she saw how her husband's eyes lit up at the image of their daughter. Hikari. She really is their light. The newborn was placed on top of her as Yuta touched the younger's nose with great care as if she's breaking in his touch. "God, you're so pretty, my angel." He cooed. "You look like your mom." She giggled at that. 

"(Y/N)," Tears were springing from his eyes when he called her name. "You have no idea how I'm so in love with you." But (Y/N) smiled, she knows. 

Yuta was the same on the day they were married and he stayed next to her. She's sure that he will love Hikari just as much. "Yuta, I love you." And he repeated those same three words to her. "But please, let's lay low on making a child. Let's wait for Hikari to grow up first." 

He giggled then kissed her forehead then the top of their newborn's head. "I promise to make use of condoms from now on." With all the energy she had left, she slapped his arm while laughing. "I'm not the best. I'm not enough but I promise to be loyal to you and Hikari. I'll love you both to death, my Ai."

(Y/N) smiled. He doesn't need to justify that. He's the best husband, there's nothing she could ask for. She's sure that Yuta will be the best dad. 

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Special chapter done. 

It was a challenge to put a husband Yuta and wild Yuta in one scenario so I hope you do like it. I’m terribly sorry for the cringey smut, I don’t know where that came from. 

Thank you for reading and anticipating this chapter. 💖

[namjoonchronicles]

finer arts | th

↳  genre fluff, slice of life, domestic, husband-Taehyung  ↳  words 4.6k ↳  summary inspired by the Baumgartner Restoration channel on Youtube, Taehyung is written as a fine art restorer. This fic centres on the point where arts and science collide. Also, long haired Taehyung. Unedited. :’) ↳ song miley cyrus ‘when i look at you’ slowed ver.

Very soft. Taehyung’s hair, at this length, had always been soft. It’s been awhile since he told you he wanted them to grow longer, and it’s finally paying off. He looks terribly soft with bangs going just a little over his brows and poking his eyes. Gathering his hair into one apple sprout and tying it up has always been your favourite way to start the day. He was humming Frank Sinatra's in the living room as it played on the bluetooth speaker when you found him. Always so hardworking. You leaned on your side by the wall, folding your arms and watching your husband pouting at the document he was reading as his head hung low. Big round glasses sliding down the slope of his Godly carved nose he learned to hate, growing up. Parker Fountain Pen in his slender fingers, cross crossing, underlining, circling the paper in a professional manner makes you remember why you had fallen for him. Slowly, but surely.

He lifts his eyes, noticing another presence in the room, and briefly smiles before returning to his writing pad again, greeting in a deep voice, “You’re awake?”

“Yes, I am…” you nodded, indulging the view still. When he starts to repeatedly push his hair away from his face, you take off your own hairband and have him sit down on the floor, with his back leaning against the couch. And you gather his hair with your finger raking the locks gently, tying an apple sprout hair. His eyes were glued on the work he brought home.

“I take it that you’re leaving home for the studio today?” you tipped his head back, chin pointed upward, demanding his attention. He chuckles through his nose as you leaned in for a chaste kiss on the lips, where his beauty mark is and then the tip of his nose and the skin between his brows. With the chuckles alone, you knew you were right. Judging from the wrinkles on his forehead when he crosses out the plans he had, you knew that he was handling a semi large painting.

Taehyung is a fine-art conservator-restorer and because of it, his work consumes him. He treats his client’s painting like his own wife; each with their own time, loving and care. Instead of being envious towards the time he puts in them, you weigh more on the term ‘admiration’, towards his work and dedication. He truly is invested in his line of profession. It was only natural for an art lover like him to eventually become an artist himself, but after some unfortunate series of art blocks, he began to turn to conservation midway through college. You were always supportive of his aspirations. Although you don’t share the same passion for arts to actually go to a college as an art major like him, he always says you should have been an artist rather than scientist when he saw you sketch a lion behind your notes, after being frustrated about writing papers on your research.

Ever since then, you and Taehyung shared an art studio at your shared home after marriage.

“Polyurethane,” he let out a deep sigh. One word is enough.

A big part about restoration and conservation is perfection. When the previous conservator uses polyurethane as varnish, the next restorer, in this case is Taehyung, will have endless scrapings to do. Polyurethane becomes embedded in the paint, which makes most restorers emotionally frustrated. This poorly chosen varnish not only becomes a part of the paint, it makes it difficult to remove because it is scraped along with the original paint by the painter and artist. This then, leads to more restoration work because the objective of a restorer, is to… restore. Using polyurethane just adds into the time working on it. The last time he dealt with polyurethane paintings, he went home with colors drained out from his face. He spent a week on them because he needs to be extra careful to get most of the polyurethane out with minimal damage on the painting.

After the scrapings, he will have to remove the paintings from the old plywood it came with and it was glued with rabbit-skin glue which is the most tedious process, one after the other.

“When it came to the studio, I was holding my breath because the state of it... was just,” Taehyung puffed his cheek and deflated it. Where does he even start? Dented surface, skewed plywood frames, rabbit skin glue, and polyurethane varnish. The owner’s cat sat on the painting. And this painting was already fragile at this time. It was a very old painting auctioned for at least a million dollar. Taehyung almost fainted.

Right. That was how he is. When Taehyung works on a painting, any painting for that matter, of any values of any age, he is consumed by it. Giving it his all, but careful not to leave traces of him as to respect the original painter.Taehyung, as an artist, is mind blowingly authentic. He has unique perceptions towards everything he sees and he was the first few artist you knew that began with taking photographs. Actually, he was the only artist you knew all your life that was intimate enough to have this talk. Back in the days, art students don’t really mingle with science nerds due to unforeseen differences seniors claim to have. You personally were told that art students are too superficial to really want to understand the world and that they see you as a fuss in human form. You believed none of that bullshit.

You have always been the kind to look deeper than what is on the surface, always skin deep. Taehyung noticed this from the first time he laid eyes on you. There was something worth uncovering.

Just like today, when your eyes tunnels into the magnifier to see the photographed version of the painting he was supposed to restore, he gets giddy at the fact that his wife, his forever girlfriend takes so much interest in so many things and is well-versed in all kinds of art despite not being a member of the field. It was at moments like these that he relentlessly wonders why you never considered to seriously take art degrees just like your science stuff.

“Looks flaky, and the dent is so deep…” you commented, craning your neck on his desk as he watches fondly from the side, “You’ll have to patch it up and sew it together…”

The smile melts away and he averted his eyes, tapping his index finger on his knee at the same time. By his demeanor alone, you know that he dislikes this. The work just keeps piling on, and more and more of the original paint is lost. Like a wet on wet painting work, that keeps bleeding color, the painting will have more of Taehyung than it would of its owner. Taehyung let out a sigh you understood so well. You leave the painting’s print on the table with the magnifying glass set away on the corner with the rest of his tools. You bring yourself next to him and put your arm around his neck and the other palm rests on one side of his face, sliding down his chiseled jaws and thumb, tracing his lips. His cologne swims around your nostril, and the smell of his hair that you love, engulfs you. He gathers his arms around your waist, rests his head under your chin and stays like that as long as you both need.

He will be away for long and intimacy of such degree would be difficult to execute. Long tiring week ahead will make you drift you both apart, only to hopefully meet each other like the first time again.

You remember the first time you laid your eyes on Kim Taehyung. He was helping the waitress picking the pieces of fallen tissues after a minor accident. He looked like he walked out of someone’s innate dream. Clean-shaven, dark brown comma hair, boring a dark brown suit and pants to match. The selfless act was something intriguing to you. It’s so rare to find someone who would take the time to help others in such a fast-paced era where everything has to be quick and perfect. You remember turning away and smiling to yourself, grateful that there’s such men still in the world. You never planned to find any attachments that night, it was just a casual formal gathering that you had to attend in order to remain in the social circle. You actually wanted to leave after thirty minutes, and probably watch a late night movie at a nearby movie theatre to appease yourself.

A drink in your hand, a small talk about how good the eclairs were, and a little bit about your short-term plans; apart from that, there was nothing much. You were never the kind to approach people first, finding more interest in the food than you do the people attending. But not your best friend, not Jimin. He is the loudest, most animatic figure out there, talking about all kinds of things, doing a lot of gags and just, a walking entertainment channel, with his addictive laughter and outgoing personality. Jimin would make friends with a broomstick if it attended. It was because of him that you were dragged into this little dinner party. He said if you come, he will join your presentation that he called boring and asked relevant questions. After careful consideration, and losing a couple of friends because of your hectic college schedule, you had no choice but adhere to his demands.

“Hi,” a succulent honeyed deep voice greeted you from behind, “Where did you get those jelly desserts?”

You glanced at him and when you recognised that he was that dude who helped the waitress, you shot your eyes back to your plate instantly, then jerked your head back up, “From the dessert corner, next to the pillar… I think they haven’t refilled them,” you said to him through a smile. Wow, he was so much taller than you expected. And, smells so nice.

“Oh thank you,” he tutted his tongue and nodded once, before he walked away grinning, “Over there right?” He walks sideways to talk to you still. He almost trips over the folded carpet and you got instantly worried before replying in a haste, “Yes! Oh careful, please!”

He gave an okay sign and puffed his cheeks.

Finding the back of your calves began to strain from the long period of standings, you had to find yourself a bar stool and ate your food alone, while Jimin was throwing his head back at a joke one of his new friends were telling. Someone took the empty seat next to you and sat with a huff.

“We already met twice and I still don’t know your name,” he peels his eyes off of his plate and turns sideways to you, “I’m Taehyung, Kim Taehyung.” You said your name in a hurry with an awkward giggle at the end, before poking your fork into the grapes and shoving them into your mouth.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked. “No, but he looks like he is having fun,” you didn’t specify who it was and Taehyung hung his head low with a dry, “Oh.” “You?” you replied. “Alone,” Taehyung said, “Didn’t plan to stay very long…I was going to catch a movie.”

Your eyes light up, “What movie? Because I’m not staying too!” Taehyung pouts, “Haven’t decided… I was going to decide there and then.”

“It’s nice to watch movies alone ha…” “Helps me recharge…” “What major are you? We’re from the same uni, correct?” “I am. I am an art major, and now more to restoration and conservator.” “Oooo, interesting… Meticulous work. That’s amazing.”

Taehyung then learns that you’re a science major, pharmaceutical technology. It sounded foreign to him, he had never known anyone with a science major, let alone talk to one. They always seem so…

“Fussy? Introverted? Closed up?” you listed. He shakes his head, jutting his lower lip out trying to think of a better adjective to describe, shooting his eyes to the ceiling then to the right. “Guarded,” Taehyung tipped his head to the side, looking at you as he spoke. “I get why we seemed that way,” you swirled your fork around the plate of spaghetti you took and nodded in agreement, “But we’re probably thinking about our gazillion unfinished reports and stressed out about why the results aren’t tally, and forgetting our breakfast, lunch and dinner, being high on caffeine…” you shrugged your shoulder, explaining.

“Doesn’t seem like a healthy way to live,” Taehyung commented, “But I understand the struggle.”

Discussing about the stereotypes, the polar opposites of a science versus art majors lasted longer than you expected. Art majors and science majors actually share more in common than you’d think. For starters, both are extremely meticulous and precise. Taehyung spoke about the specification of colours and blending of several techniques into one art requires an extensive studies of observations and practice. As a conservator, he must recognise personalized styles of close to thousands of painters to differentiate a genuine piece from a copy--a skill that would take years and decades to perfect.

For science, specifics come in the definition of science. There has to be hypotheses to be proven, and theories that aligned with the results. Making medication has several strict rules; and the process, the testing are endless. From the drug is being formulated, to the way it is processed, and how it reacts when it enters the human body, to how long it takes to be expelled and whatever happened in between must be noted. Uniformity, size particles, bottling, storage, etc. are all taken into custody when it comes to making drugs. You told Taehyung about the exhausting 48 sets of 100mL volumetric flask being used in order to determine the complete dissolution of 100mG of paracetamol.

“I get cross-eyed having to stare at the mark, trying not to make mistakes,” you smiled and Taehyung giggled. “I understand about getting cross-eyed,” he added. He continues about having to re-color a varnished painting with a limited set of light in the studio, and not being able to determine what pigment it was until daylight reveals that he was wrong.

“I think art and science are two things humans can’t live without,” you started, looking down at your semi empty plate, “I mean, life depends on science, but art is what makes it worth living.” “Rebecca Atwood,” Taehyung cited. Then you both looked at each other for what seemed the longest time, as if you both had found home in each other.

Your heart clearly whispered, “Where have you been all my life?” And for a period of time, you actually believed it was one-sided. How could someone like Taehyung want to spend time with you. But you guys eventually went to the movies together.

Jimin called midway through the movie. You excused yourself and took the call outside the hall.

“Yo, where art thou? The party’s over, don’t tell me you went home without me,” Jimin nags.

“I’m at the movies, I’ll get the Uber, don’t worry,” you hissed, “No, Jimin, I’m going to be fine. It’s not that late, I’ll call you when I get home. Yes, I know there’s class tomorrow at 2pm, alright bye,” you hang up and rush back inside.

Taehyung looks at you with wondering eyes and you felt inclined to explain, “Jimin. Asked me where I was, and wanted to go home. I said I’ll take the Uber.”

“Uber? No, I can drive you home,” Taehyung offered. You don’t think you should be in a car with someone you barely know so you politely declined. Taehyung however, waited with you for the Uber, and waved you goodbye. He didn’t ask for your number, much to your disappointment. But maybe it was a one night thing for him. It’s not like you expected anything, so why do you carry yourself heavily to your dorm?

It was rare to find someone you could connect to in such a short time. Tonight was a miracle at work, and it was short lifted. Laying down in your bed with the light from your phone shone over your face, you scrolled down Instagram to see your married highschool friend cradling babies. Another friend just got married. Another is half a world away. A few are taking pictures of cute dates they went on. And then there’s you, who is now staring at each one filled with envy and discontent, wondering if anyone will ever find the time to notice you and hopefully fall for you. Deep inside, all you ever wanted was to be in love. Despite you plunge yourself into heavy work in the most strenuous field out there, you were inexplicably lonely. It gets increasingly difficult as you grow older, and your options for men decreases.

They say, everyone has a soulmate. But for some reason, you think God forgot to make yours. Real connection is possibly impossible to find. The love you seek probably doesn’t exist.

And as you turn your phone face down next to you, it vibrated a message in.

Jimin: Are you home yet? Hello? Jimin: So you found Kim Taehyung? From arts? Jimin: He texted me the Uber car’s plate number to make sure I know where you are…

You replied,

You: yes.. You: you know taehyung??

Jimin: uh yeah. Orientation week together. Campmates. Jimin: how was it? You: he was nice… Jimin: You cold-blooded women. You: XD

The next day was your presentation. After spotting Jimin in the crowd, you immediately felt better. Some familiar faces would be nice. Final year project presentations can be brutal. Some of the questions you expected would be the purpose, the motive, the need for this project to be funded and why it carries such significance. Sometimes what you expect doesn't happen, and because of that you get very disheartened and disappointed. No matter how brave you decide to be, your body protests and rebels against your wishes. The way the bottle tremble in your hands shows how much this is hammering your dignity. It is as if you expected to be humiliated. You glanced down to your heavily arrowed notes and scribbles, closing your eyes as you stood in the back stage, mentally preparing yourself. How to be bulletproof?

Had he not helped the girl to purchase a canned coffee from the vending machine, he would not have been late, Taehyung thought. Now he creeps in the back of the lecture hall, carrying his own opened canned drink. There was an extra unopened canned coffee drink he snuck in. You had already started your presentations. Does he have the mental capacity for this new information? Of course. There were a few terms he wasn’t familiar with, but it was not enough to bore him. Your simpler explanation the night you met actually helped a lot. The oozing charisma you carry and the calm way you carry yourself was something worth looking up to. It was the kind that he actually envied about you. He had a feeling that you weren’t showing all parts of you and because of that, he was intrigued. Even as he sat there as an audience, completely at awe of your presentation, you were magnetic.

Not a single one person in that auditorium was paying their attention elsewhere. Being able to draw such dedication and passion is a talent. And it was all Kim Taehyung wished he could do.

“With all the existing medication with the same purpose, what good would a research in the same area pose? A renewal?” “And what about the gene-specific cancer studies that are already initiated since 2004? Haven’t we spent enough on that?” “What about the ethical issues surrounding the existing CRISPR, the so-called genetic-specific medications?”

The questions from the PhD holders you presented were all valid. You agreed.

“As a scientist, we understand that our research will continue far after our death. Many researches are done without a clear view of where the finish line is. If we want to talk about ethical issues regarding gene modifications, we have done them on all the things we could consume, grow and breed. If we have the power to prevent abnormality before it becomes one, why do we second guess ourselves? Isn’t the purpose of science to better understand, and then to prevent? To create a better living?”

The room fell into a deathly silence, and you were inclined to go back to your statements but when you dragged your eyes to the corner of the room, you saw some juniors nodding in agreement to what you’ve just said, you regained a little ounce of confidence. “But we haven’t truly understood the after effects of gene modifications. And through all prolonged research thus far, it doesn’t suggest a good result. How do you guarantee a perceptible study in the development of the medication you’re proposing?”

. . . Sniffles greeted Taehyung at the door he pushed opened gently. You were standing by the handrails on the faculty’s rooftop, the papers you brought in scattered around the ground. Some are drained into the pool of water puddle from last night’s rain. Digging the heels of your palm into your eyes, you heard the door creaked open and jumped.

“I’m sorry…” Taehyung whispered. You glanced over your shoulder at him and then turned away. Not because of anger or fear, but from shame. You have never shown anyone this timid side of you. You’re always expected to be strong, and you took that mask on literally. Having someone witnessing your vulnerability is as foreign as the sight of a shooting star. How unlucky for Taehyung, you thought.

“I bought you…” he placed the canned drink on the ground, next to where you placed your backpack, “A canned coffee.”

“How did you,” you sniffed, “How did you know that the presentations’ today?” “You told me the night we met?” he answered, in a confused tone.

And you gave him a lopsided smile, “Oh right. I’m not used to people remembering my errands. Jimin never does. No one ever does.”

“I am not actually good at remembering. But for some reason, yours was unforgettable,” he added an awkward chuckle at the end, scratching the back of his head not sure why he finds conversation with you feel homey. Sincerity and honesty comes naturally like breathing the air in.

“I did a crap job at presenting, didn’t I?” it was a statement, pretentiously laid out as a question.

But Taehyung knew better than to cement the depressive thought. Then he scooted near to you, and coil to your side, to give you a puppy eyed bright smile.

That was when you first knew a Kim Taehyung. Everything else that happened after that seemed like a story written just for you. But loving Kim Taehyung didn’t come without challenges. When you love a man as attractive as that, there will be wandering eyes directed towards him. And you have your own fair share of evil eyes directed at you. How can a science nerd catch the attention of an art student? It was totally unheard off. Had Taehyung paid any attention to those thirsty hyenas, you would have given up the fight. However, this is Taehyung you’re talking about. Once he had his eyes set to a person, he developed tunnel vision only to that person.

For years, you struggled with perfection. And the thing about the struggle is that it was common to everyone, but so few would understand. Perfection quickly becomes a disease to over-achievers. Had it not been Taehyung, you would probably engage in an insufferable discontentment towards life and everything it has to offer. Everything changed when he handed you a paint brush and a 200-sized plain white canvas and a studio to yourself.

You felt liberated.

Not knowing where your illustrations will take you was the first taste of freedom you had ever allowed yourself to feel. Because in the arts, there are no wrongs or rights. And it's uniquely yours. And the look on Taehyung’s face when it's done? Priceless. To the point that you think you began drawing because of him and that he was just saying the things you wanted to hear. Then he hangs your drawings in the open hall, and brings home the comments written by the art lovers to prove that you are wrong.

When it comes to relationship turbulences, Taehyung and you personally respect each other’s space, friendship choices and principles. Such maturity is again rare so you’d like to think that you’re lucky in that sense. However, Taehyung’s family proved to be a massive hurdle. While you were raised in a humble home, and accustomed to having sleep as dinners, Taehyung’s family owns a collection of farms that produces vegetables and fruits, and Taehyung’s favourites happen to be strawberries. He surely is raised in an upper middle class well into his elementary years and then catapulted into first class around his high school time. Not to say that he doesn’t know what it’s like to starve, he has a fairshare of that in his rebellious years; but he was not used to the life you lead. The part-time jobs, the tutoring weekends, the errands. He never had to do those.

When he brought you home to his parents for the first time, you felt out of place. His penthouse, his army of maids, sports cars and spacious area. His parents, they were wonderful. They welcomed you with open arms. Even inviting you to a family-only event, introducing you to everyone, and then letting you see their family photo albums. Taehyung has a massive support system, a healthy relationship compared to yours. No matter how much he wants to convince you that his life isn’t perfect, it was a whole lot better than yours. You remember how he snuck you into his bedroom in the middle of the night when his parents were asleep, the snickering, the whispers and the night you shared, cuddling. You had tears in your eyes that night, because you never thought you’d be this fortunate.

Watching him fall asleep in your lap so soundly really made you think about the last time you ever made someone this comfortable. Is this how it feels to love and cherish? Finding a middle ground is not always easy, and most people take time to reach there. For Taehyung and you, sacrificing a lot comes without say. Your internal conflicts and his willingness to understand your perspective, and vice versa--it all takes time. You can owe it all to Taehyung’s ultimate patience. Just like the way he handles his work. Meticulously, and carefully. Like how chemicals are precise, the paints are too.

In every phase of life, we are being prepared for the phase that comes next. In accordance to what we are made of, we continue to evolve, continue to grow. And it is in this stage that we feel most vulnerable, most bare, most uncomfortable. Sometimes you dread the things that you weren’t allowed to have, much like the doctorate you sought after (that took much longer than others), the way it was withheld from you because life said you weren’t ready yet, even when you thought you were. Waiting patiently becomes the hardest part of it all. Although Taehyung might not understand half the things you went through, isn't he still here? Isn’t he still holding your hand? Isn’t he still singing to you?

Fine arts are creative art, especially visual art whose products are to be appreciated primarily or solely for their imaginative, aesthetic, or intellectual content. If that’s the case, then Taehyung must be finer arts.

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copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading

:. I wrote a bit about the things I do in university, I’m sorry if you find that boring... it’s the only world I know... I am currently going through mid-semester exams, and I’m not doing well, spark up a fever with 3 more papers to go. Anyways. Have a great day!

[earthlynnlp]

Mods List: Make It Work

A list of mods that I use in my game. These mods all fix current common bugs in the game.

Updated for the July 2023 🐴 Patch!

Things marked with a ⭐ you need to download an update to be compatible.

Things marked with a ⚡️ are possibly broken and are not currently compatible according to Better Exceptions.

Things marked with a ✨ are new to the list since the last patch.

Base Game

⭐ Random Bug Fixes

Don’t Prep Food Where You Angry Poop

Don’t Wash Dishes Where You Angry Poop

⭐ Party Aspiration Bug Fix - All kinds of parties now count.

Hugging Is Not A Crass Act - Unflirty Sims will no longer be horrified by witnessing a friendly hug.

Sit At Weddings

Put Down Tweak - Less likely to put plates down where they can’t be picked back up, less likely to leave books on the dining table, less likely to put homework on the computer keyboard.

Clean Scorch Marks Tweak - Sometimes Sims will be unable to correctly clean up scorch marks left after a fire or thunderstorm. This mod enhances the respective tuning file.

Add Sims to Ensembles During Events - Restores the option to add Sims to groups during parties. This is how I get Sims to gather in the chapel during weddings and around a birthday cake before singing happy birthday. It’s essential!

Talk While Eating - A fairly simple mod that restores the ability for Sims to autonomously begin talking to one another while eating, which appears to have been removed or damaged in a more recent game update.

Try for Baby Interaction Fix

Toddler Stranger Fix - Makes it so Toddlers can talk to Sims they haven’t met yet.

No Lid Outdoor Trashcan Fix

Espresso Drinks Give Moodlets as Intended

Get To Work

Doctor Career Fix- Fixes the Deliver Baby job requirement bug.

Science Career Fix

Get Together

Autonomous Knitting During Clubs

City Living

Sit During Lounge Events

Fireworks Fix

Kids Room Stuff

Voidcritter Card Fix - Voidcritter cards from Kids Room Stuff are no longer removed from a Sim’s inventory when switching to another household.

Seasons

Water Fun Tradition Goal Fix

Remove Seasons Decorations On Every Lot

Holiday Present Fix - Toddlers can now accept gifts from Father Winter.

Holiday Traditions Fixes - Sims will now ignore traditions that don’t match up with their lifestyles or likes or dislikes.

Eco Lifestyle

Utilities No Longer Drain Power When Off the Grid - Fuel Cell Upgrades were charging you for pulling power from the grid.

Can Cook Off the Grid With Fuel Cell Upgrade

Off The Grid Adoption Fix - Allows you to adopt both children and pets again.

Dine Out

Finish Eating at Restaurants

Sit Down At Restaurants Tweak

Dine Out Reloaded

No More Placemats - No More Broken Restaurants

No More Sitting on Floor at Restaurants

High School Years

High School Spawn Fix - Fixes it to make it more likely that Sims will spawn player Sims at high schools and also fixes it that it is random if you go to class 1 or class 2.

Paired High School Dancing Tweak - Now counts as a dancing goal, matches with dance skill, and takes into account likes and dislikes.

Growing Together

Milestones Fixes - Fixes Milestones not registering for other played houses in rotational play.

<- Back to Main List of Mods

[ladyhallen]

The Sentient House and Alice

Three weeks before the elections, Alice woke up with the nagging need to move to her grandmother’s house.

It was a nice house, but simply too large for one family to have. Just simply, impossible large. Alice had once tried to catalogue all the rooms in the house but just lost count. It was as if the house itself didn’t like to be measured.

Alice got used to inanimate objects having opinions of their own. It wasn’t so bad and at least if you treated them right, they wouldn’t object to being used. It was a side effect of having taken too strongly from her grandmother.

She had a feeling that nagging need to move into the house was another quirk of her blood. Her mother never could explain it properly, other than knowing more than people.

So, with just that urge, Alice packed up her bags for a weeks clothing, all her documentation that labelled her as having something extra and moved out of her tiny apartment.

Her landlord, a man with cat-yellow eyes, sighed.

“Must be something important, if you have to do it without any prior notice,” he murmured. He was one of the few people who knew about her. Being part of the Other community, people often knew everyone else. Mainly for self-defense.

“I don’t know if it’s a calling,” Alice said. “But…there’s a need? I don’t know. A need to hide.”

The landlords eyes were wide. “Alright. I’ll spread the word.”

Alice wished he wouldn’t. While there would be some people who would appreciate the warning, there would also be others who didn’t like false alarms.

“Alice, you’ve never actually given me false alarms before,” he reminded her. “Now, stop being modest and get moving.”

Alice nodded, feeling a little bit better. “Just remember, I’m not a Seer,” she repeated, feeling the need to reiterate things.

“Yeah, you just know.”

Alice gave up.

..

The house was situated in the middle of the city. It was a large, sprawling land bracketed by fruit trees and large, rustling grass. Even if it was in the middle of the city, the trees were tall enough and thick enough to block sound and make it seem isolated.

In the middle of it all was the house.

Wreathed in spells, the windows blurred as though it was moving. It made measuring things difficult. If Alice didn’t already know that the house was sentient, she would have believed it after spending a night inside. The bathroom tended to rearrange itself according to how she liked it.

“I’m here, I’m home,” she called, opening the door that didn’t even pretend to be locked. It swung invitingly open, like it had just been closed and not closed for a good twenty years. “Stop calling, I’m here.”

The chandelier flickered and turned on.

“What’s the problem?”

The lights turned on, one by one until Alice could clearly see what was lit and what wasn’t. The house was leading her to the library and she followed, leaving her bag on the sofa by the fireplace.

It was clearly agitated and it showed. By the time Alice reached the library on the second floor, the lights blazed.

On the bookstand by the door, a book was open and being flicked to and fro by the wind. She took the hint and bent close.

“Of all the creatures that witches spent battling,” she read aloud. “Demons are the worst. Banished to the Otherworld by the Coven of Witches in the year 1905 after the disaster that was the Spanish Influenza. They are characterized by their yellow eyes and the scent of sulfur that follows them. They also have an aversion to cats.”

Alice breathed deep, trying not to panic.

“But,” she whispered. “The UCO just declared demons to be a myth. If the Coven of Witches did this and then scattered afterwards, that leaves a mark on the World. Why would the UCO declare demons to be a myth?”

Alice had no answer and the house rattled around her in agitation.

..

Since the house was clearly averse to letting her leave the house – as evidenced by the doorknob that wouldn’t twist open and the trees that suddenly blocked her way outside the gates – Alice made herself at home.

She picked a bedroom, almost jumped out of her skin when she found the drawers to be full of clothes her size and even felt her eyebrows climbing when she saw the pantry overflowing with food.

Evidently, it had prepared itself for her arrival.

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful,” she said.

The windows preened.

Half-forgotten lessons with her grandmother resurfaced and Alice ended up baking cookies. The scent wafted up to the third floor and the house actually felt lived in. She knew the house appreciated it by the bubble bath it drew up when she headed for bed.

..

On Alice’s third day, when she was arguing with the house on whether she could go outside and get some other supplies, the doorbell rang.

She paused in the act of wiping the glasses and glared at the nearest mirror. “This discussion is not yet finished,” she declared.

Opening the door, she found herself face to face with a petite woman, glossy wings protruding from her back and an energetic smile.

“Hi!” the half-fairy greeted. Alice knew she was half since her skin wasn’t green. “I saw your ad in the internet and wondered if you were still hiring? I’m a good cook and can work around substitutes in case of allergies and Other problems.” Alice blinked at her. The woman didn’t even pause. “I can also bake and clean and sew. So anything is really fine. I just need a place to stay. The cats are all saying their fur is standing up and – “

“Wait, wait, just stop,” Alice said, trying not to shout. Fairies didn’t like sudden loud noises. “Why are you here?”

The woman looked bewildered. “You posted an ad in the internet asking about housekeeping.”

Alice sighed and pulled the woman inside. Once they were seated inside the kitchen, Alice glared at the mirror. “You posted that ad, didn’t you? I thought I told you not to do things like these without asking?”

In response, all the drawers in the kitchen, which had been obligingly opened once Alice took out the polishing rag, drew shut.

The half-fairy goggled. “The drawers just moved.” She stated carefully.

Alice sighed again. “It has a mind of its own. Most things do, when they spend enough time around me. And the house was likely the one who posted the advert too. Most probably, it convinced my laptop to do it. People,” she said loudly. “We have consent issues. Didn’t we have this discussion when I was fifteen?”

The woman laughed, a gay and infectious sound. “You must have some sorcerer blood! They’re the only ones I know that can do that, even by accident. So can I work here?”

Alice nodded. “Why do you want to work for food and lodging anyway?”

“But that’s just it,” she said seriously. “Anyone who has a drop of Other in them are hiding. Apparently, someone with Seer blood said to be careful or something.”

Alice had the feeling she could blame her old landlord for that. But…

“Wait, where did you find my advert?” she asked, feeling dread.

The woman obligingly rolled out a printed sheet and Alice felt blood drain from her face. “Is that Facebook? And the UCO page? And that…”

“The official chat room for the Other community,” she supplied. “I was really lucky to get here first. I think there’s going to be a lot more people coming here.”

Alice dropped her forehead to the table and she couldn’t even hurt herself since the table softened to avoid hurting her.

“Oh my god. What are you planning, you crazy house?” she muttered.

…

The half-fairy woman’s name was Susan and Alice set her to cooking or baking.

It was amazing to have conversation that actually talked back.

“This was your grandmother’s house?” Susan asked. “Wow, it’s amazing the UCO hasn’t seized this yet.”

Alice shrugged, trying to peel the apples. It was slow going since she didn’t particularly like holding anything sharp. “I think they tried?” she said. “I remember a year when Mum was going gray about grandmum. She and dad had a spectacular row about it.”

“It’s really well taken care of,” Susan said. “Especially the garden. I really like your trees. There’s something…different about them.”

Since Alice had seen them move and walk around, they definitely weren’t ordinary trees.

…

Alice’s next applicant was an elf, pointy ears and all.

She stared at the man when he volunteered to be the gardener.

“Pick a room,” she said. “There’s a lot.”

“My name is Samuel,” he said, a melodic trill in his voice. “Thank you for sheltering me.”

Alice blinked dazedly at him and then marched determinedly up her room to continue arguing with the laptop about taking down the adverts. She didn’t need more people.

…

Even with the advert being taken down, people still arrived in staggering, slow numbers.

After Samuel came three more elves. They all took care of the gardens. A werewolf and his mate, a half-lizard. They started a vegetable garden – which struck Alice as ironic since werewolves and lizards didn’t like vegetables and were as carnivorous as possible.

Then came the pixies who roosted in the Roof Gardens and only came down to steal some desserts. They did amazing cleaning and swept the house of any dust at night when everyone slept.

Two gnomes arrive, bringing with them one earth nymph and two tree nymphs. Alice, at this point sits down with Susan and tries not to pull out her hair.

“How am I supposed to feed an earth nymph and the gnomes?” Alice hissed at the fairy. “Aren’t gnomes vegetarian?”

Susan giggled. “It’s a good thing Erik and James have just harvested their first crops then. It’s like fate. You gather such amazing people, Alice.”

It definitely wasn’t Alice’s doing. She merely stared at all the people arriving and kept worrying.

Meanwhile, the elections draw closer.

….

The first time Alice sees a cat when she’s doing laundry, she dismissed it as unimportant. Its green eyes stare at her, and then seemingly finds her suitable.

The next time she sees a cat; there are four of them sunning themselves on a patch of sunlight in the library.

“Okay, this is definitely not normal,” she said with a frown.

The cats ignore her.

..

Two pairs of vampire mates arrive and seek sanctuary. Alice tried not to cringe when Erik eyes them up.

“Please don’t fight,” she pleaded. “The house will definitely get angry.”

At that statement, the pixies that were watching the proceedings by the roof beams, gasp.

The vampires paused and Erik goes still.

“I’m not fighting them,” Erik announced. “But I’m not going to make any promises if they mess with my vegetables.”

The vampires nod at him regally.

“What can you do?” Alice asked before someone else exploded. Vampires tend to make people irritated. “We can sort your books. And do repairs. We also brought with us some animals. We know you like fresh milk and we can get blood from the cows as well so it balances evenly for us.”

Alice tried not to laugh out loud. Vampires volunteering for animal husbandry. Vampires volunteering to be repair men.

….

Marcia, one of the most well-known in the Other community, shows up and it nails the coffin to how weird her life is.

Because Marcia, White Mage extraordinaire, just volunteered to be her librarian.

“I can also help raise defensive spells,” Marcia adds at Alice’s flummoxed silence, mistaking it for hesitation.

“That’s fine,” Susan interjects for her. “But...”

The words, why are you here remains unsaid, but the White Mage hears it anyway.

“I did a divination spell once the warning reached me,” Marcia says, like its normal for someone to manage a divination spell and have it work. Gosh, it’s blowing Alice’s mind. “And my results said that the best place to be in right now is the house of a Witch.”

Her houseguests look at Alice in interest. The words take a while to penetrate.

“But!” Alice says with surprise. “I’m not a witch! I mean…I don’t think I am? I can’t work with plants for shit and my empathy is out of whack. I don’t have a green thumb!”

Marcia finally looks confused, which makes Alice feel better. There are finally two of them suffering here.

“I do agree that an affinity with plants is a sign of a witch, but you are so obviously magical and good with witchcraft that it’s affecting everything around you, even non-living things,” the White Mage says. “The cats agree with me,” she adds, pointing out the three cats twining by her feet.

Alice, for the first time in a while, finally knows what she is. And she doesn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

…

On the day of the election, the camera pans to the president candidate and Alice almost jumps a foot in the air when his eyes turn yellow. Not dragon-gold or cat-yellow but demon-yellow.

An instinctive revulsion rises up in her and Alice finally understands why she had known to hide.

Because demons had finally come back from their banishing and Alice was one of the few Witches left in the world.

...

wrote this a few years ago, just posted this now.