#i need to go to therapy Clearly but i am terrified of being too far gone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

i am your salvation

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~13k

For years, Keigo had trained his body, fucking perfected it’s abilities. Every part of him was honed and forcibly designed to be the winged-hero, Hawks. But, now? He was the defunct number two, ‘Hawks’ and at home— reality? He was the comically broken Keigo Takami who struggled to do basic physical therapy.

Only you know him like that.

warnings: manga spoilers, suicidal ideation, abuse, ANGST with a capital A, just sad :^(((

this piece is hellish, enjoy ;^))) beta’ed by the lovely @keiqos, bless u

----------------------

Keigo was fucked.

He was so beyond fucked.

He was dead.

Basically.

He was half-alive in a hospital bed. An IV drip in each arm, pumping him full of god knows what. He didn’t care to ask. All he knew was that he fucked up.

He’d gotten sloppy.

Stupid.

Pompous.

And now his wings were fried off his back.

(By fucking Dabi no less.)

The first conversation he’d had with his doctor upon waking at the HPSC hospital was one where he legitimately contemplated suicide for the first time in a long while.

“Hawks... There’s no good way to say this. There just isn’t,” The doctor began, looking through Keigo’s chart, sighing deeply. There was something so grave about the way he moved through the sterile hospital room.

The doctor handed him a handheld mirror.

Hawks slowly raised it up with weakened arms, knowing what he’d see.

A gruesome burn tore down the left side of his face. It puckered the skin around his eye, narrowing his field of vision (thank god he still had any vision at all). The soft flesh around his eye was so angry and blistered, pockets of puss gathering beneath the surface of his skin.

But what was worse than the scar, so much fucking worse, was the absence.

The complete absence of his wings.

No stubs, no nubs. Just nothing.

His back ached against the hospital bed as he handed the mirror back to the doctor.

The doctor sighed again. He spoke to Hawks like he didn’t think the hero already knew what he was going to say, “Your wings are gone. Fully. The scans we’ve taken show that the... well, roots of them in your flesh are still present, they’re encased in scar tissue. Even the sections that the feathers grow from are cauterized. In our professional opinion, we don’t think that they’ll ever grow again.”

His heart fell in his chest.

It fell so deep.

So far.

He didn’t let himself cry.

Instead, he contemplated how hard it would be to overdose on morphine they were undoubtedly dosing him with.

The doctor continued as Keigo stared sightlessly at his lap, “As established, the muscles that control the roots of your wings are still intact, yes. But, they’re heavily damaged in a way that will affect your everyday life. Even without your wings, the recovery to stabilize your injuries is going to be strenuous.”

Who fucking cared.

Hawks had spent the vast majority of his life training to be a hero and now the very thing that made him the best was literally burned from him. It felt unholy. It felt awful.

Fire wasn’t cleansing, it was putrid. Desecrated was his body as well as his mind.

He didn’t listen to much else of what the doctor said. He let himself go blank, wishing tears would fall.

...

That was yesterday.

Today, he was allowed visitors. His PA came, informing him that the Commission was putting him on extended, indefinite (thankfully, somewhat paid) leave in exchange for media appearances. They also informed him that half of the top ten were dead after the war with the PLF. Ryuku, Miruko, Edgeshot, Kamuiwoods, Crust, all lost. And countless others, too. Even some students. It seemed that there was no clear winner of the fight that took so many and changed so much.

One of the most hard-hitting pieces of news was that Endeavor was in a coma, on life support, with a brain injury that would most likely kill him. At best, he’d be a vegetable.

Keigo felt nothing but hollow as he laid in his hospital bed. He was half machine, based on all of the tubes and monitors that he was hooked up to. He felt truly mechanical and falsely alive. Truly, he was used up. He wanted to die. He was sure of it.

Keigo wanted to ask his PA to smother him.

He didn’t.

The next person to visit him was you. His PA had informed him that they were legally obligated to see him first, otherwise, you would’ve been clawing his door down.

You.

Keigo didn’t want you to see him like this. All the reasons you had fallen for him were gone. There was no confidence, no lip, no charm, no drive, no stunning scarlet wings— nothing. He even had the bonus deterrent of a nasty scar covering half his face. He was so sure that you’d take one look at him and turn right out the door.

Leave him for good.

Maybe spit on him for good measure.

The old muscles of his wings twitched as you walked through the door. It burned like an old hell.

You’d clearly been crying, face and eyes puffy.

But you were strong for him.

You pulled a chair up next to his bed wordlessly. You sat, laying your head on his antiseptic smelling sheets and mattress. Your eyes went half-lidded, just barely looking up at Keigo’s terrified expression. You reached out, grabbing one of Keigo’s clammy hands. You squeezed it.

“I’m here, Kei’,” Your voice was so quiet. “It’s alright. I love you. I’ve got you.”

It made him break.

The machines that he was reliant on screamed as he desperately grabbed at you, dragging you up with the little strength he had. You pushed him down, moving to half kneel on his bed. You didn’t make Keigo work for your touch.

You cradled his head to your chest as his scarred hands fisted your sweater. He screamed into your sternum. Keigo wailed and cried with everything he had. He was losing himself, raging for far more than just his current injury.

He bawled for every single time he couldn’t in his hero training, forced to be broken by the demands of the Commission. He sobbed for every casualty and death that was on his hands, righteous or otherwise. And, selfishly, he cried for himself. He let tears fall in mourning for the version of himself that died by Dabi’s hand.

He let himself shatter in your arms for the burning muscles and scars of his back, the ache of his face, and the emptiness and vulnerability that his lack of wings graced him with.

You more than let him; you encouraged it.

You stroked his hair, matted with sweat and grease. You whispered soft adorations, validations and love into his ears. He can hear your tears too, but it didn’t stop you.

“I love you, Keigo.”

“I’m here.”

“You’re safe.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I’ve got you, Kei’.”

“No one else will hurt you. I won’t let them.”

You were far too late on the last one. But, you were quirkless. Powerless to stop the destruction that ravaged his body and now, his mind.

Additionally, Keigo was relieved you didn’t say that ‘everything will be okay’.

He knew it wouldn’t be.

You let him crumble against you for hours.

Finally, he was spent, falling back in his bed, and letting you slump back into your chair. You took the liberty of finding a warm towel to wipe his face down with.

The rest of visiting hours, you laid your head on his mattress, holding his hand as he drifted in and out of sleep. Nurses came and poked and prodded him. They didn’t bother making conversation with either of you.

They understood, to some degree.

You were both together in mourning.

A nurse came by later, night had fallen, telling you visiting hours were over.

Keigo audibly whined.

You shook your head, running a thumb over Keigo’s knuckles.

“It’s alright,” You soothed both him and the nurse. “I’m not leaving.”

The nurse didn’t fight you, merely exited the room.

Keigo watched, awed. You retrieved a decently sized duffle bag and pillow that you’d brought (he hadn’t noticed). You set up a blanket and the pillow on a couch in the corner as a makeshift bed.

“Y-you’re staying?” Keigo asked, voice raw.

You, somehow, smiled. So gentle and precious, nodding, “As long as you’d like me to. I told you, I’m here.”

Keigo relied on you for comfort in the past, sure. But not like this. Not like you were his anchor, tethering him to his existence now that his pride and preen were plucked from him. You were his salvation in that hospital room. You were the ground that he desperately and necessarily needed to learn to walk on.

You both fell asleep quickly, dreaming of better things outside of your waking nightmare.

---------------------------

Keigo was discharged two weeks later.

It is thoroughly confirmed that, unless by some medical miracle, his wings were truly toast. Gone for good.

The Commission brought in at least a dozen folks with spectacular healing quirks. Truly, the best the country had. Turns out, the Commission was clawing for hope too, in the wake of everything.

The efforts were in vain, of course.

Nothing stuck.

The scar tissue wouldn’t shrink. The damage was too severe. The cauterization was so intense, it altered him. Forever.

You stayed with him the whole time.

You went home, just a bit, maybe an hour a day. You showered then, changed clothes.

You’d come back and do what you had been the whole time.

Just being there.

You didn’t make him idly chat or make him watch shitty, hospital cable. You let him ruminate, stew, and simmer. You let him be crushed.

You were smart enough, empathetic enough to know that nothing you could do or say would lift him right now.

He just needed you there.

And so, you were.

After being discharged with several prescriptions, orders to limit activity to allow for his other injuries (and concussion) to heal, the two of you went home.

Your first task was Keigo getting properly washed.

At first, Keigo resisted.

“N-no, I’m fine, I’ll take one tomorrow,” Truthfully, he wouldn’t probably, not without your help. He just didn’t want you to see him so intimately in this state.

You shook your head, speaking as you brought several plush towels into the bathroom. You turned to Keigo who had wrapped his arms around his frail-looking form, looking at the floor.

You brought him into your arms, rubbing at his neck, not wanting to aggravate the injuries on his back, “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll feel good. Let me take care of you, please.”

You spoke so earnestly, it made Keigo fall apart. He hated being so helpless.

He nodded against you.

You sat him on the toilet seat while you ran a bath in Keigo’s spectacular tub. You poured in epsom salts and some lavender bubble bath, filling the room with a familiar, herbal scent.

You helped him strip, mindful to not linger on any part of his body. Carefully, you lowered Keigo into the water. He could help but be surprised by the strength in your body to do so. Perhaps foolishly, he had never taken you as physically strong. After stripping yourself, you got in as well, across from him, so you wouldn’t see his scars. You were perhaps a bit too considerate.

The water burned his wounds, yet calmed his muscles. It was a different sensation than the ones he’d had for the past weeks. He welcomed it.

Keigo sagged in the bathwater, looking somewhat relaxed for the first time in so long. You knelt in the water and suds, lathering up his hair and body. So carefully did you wash away the sweat, smells, and lingerings of the hospital and the war that preceded it. You went through his hair with your own conditioner, figuring that the familiar smell might help keep him calm. Keigo didn’t say anything, just let you do as you needed. You carefully untangled any and all knots from his tresses, rinsing him down.

You dried him off, putting a few scented body oils on his dry patches of skin, parched from his time in the hospital. You still didn’t look at his back.

He felt ashamed and thoroughly disgusted. He smushed his face into your shoulder, gripping onto your like if he wasn’t, he’d die.

You find him fucking repulsive, right?

“Kei’,” Your voice quiet still, “You okay?— Wait, don’t answer that.”

You chuckle at yourself. Keigo would’ve laughed too if he could.

Keigo dressed himself, a semi-self sufficient act that made him feel better. Though, you picked out the clothes. Some of your own, soft, old garments that Keigo had seen you in a hundred times.

It was only before he put on a shirt that you gave his back the quickest once-over, “You can put your shirt on now, Kei’. I just wanted to make sure it looked okay. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Even that much sight and contact of the old roots of his wings made him feel so ashamed. It burned the corpse of his ego like the hot fire that crisped his wings.

Despite those nasty feelings, the simple act of wearing your shirt made him feel better. It felt so good, so good, to be surrounded by you instead of the sterility of the hospital.

You had been kind enough to leave the hospital for a bit longer than normal the day prior to go shopping. You bought Keigo a large, fluffy, ivory blanket. You even washed it, so it smelled like home (and you) too.

After you helped him to the wide couch, custom made to accommodate Keigo’s now torched wings. It was a small burn (ha) to his psyche, but he tried to let it go as you got him comfortable.

You gave him your special pillow. The one Keigo loved to steal and take naps with. You covered him in the new blanket.

“Is that okay?” You asked, tucking him in. Keigo would normally be embarrassed by something childish like that, but he couldn’t make himself care. It felt so good to be comforted.

So softly, he replied, “You made it feel like home already.”

You let a sad smile drift to your face, massaging Keigo’s scalp as he sobbed into his new blanket.

He was so glad to be surrounded by you, no matter how rotten he felt.

-------------------

The first week home was the hardest. Sleeping was painful, even next to you. Eating was a fucking labor as he had no appetite. Nothing interested him in the slightest other than staring at walls and pretending he would wake up from this nightmare soon.

An at-home physical therapist was brought in. He had to retrain the muscles in his back to relax, now that they weren’t carrying the weight of his wings. The constant tension in his back would cause long term damage (not like he wasn’t already riddled with chronic injury), least of all tension headaches.

Your job let you work from home. Thank god.

...

Keigo hated his exercises. They hurt so bad.

For years, Keigo had trained his body, fucking perfected its abilities. Every part of him was honed and forcibly designed to be the winged-hero, Hawks. But, now? He was the defunct number two, ‘Hawks’ and at home— reality? He was the comically broken Keigo Takami who struggled to do basic physical therapy.

Only you knew him like that.

Keigo’s fists slammed against the floor as he strained with his PT exercises, the therapist themselves long gone for the day. You worked from your laptop on the couch. You weren’t supposed to aid him with his exercises unless necessary, as the therapist had instructed.

“Do you want me to help you?” You asked, almost coaxingly.

Keigo beat his fists once more, crying out almost like a petulant child, (he hated himself for it oh my god—), “I don’t want to fucking do this! I can’t do this!”

And Keigo sobbed into the floor with abandon.

You moved from the couch to haul him into your arms, pressing his face into your neck. You said nothing, you just let him scream and die against you.

“I can’t do this!”

“I hate this!”

“Make this fucking stop!”

“Just make this all fucking stop!”

“JUST FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY!”

This got you to speak, not shushing him, but just trying to soothe—

“IF YOU REALLY FUCKING LOVE ME, THEN YOU’LL SLIT MY THROAT IN MY SLEEP AND LET THIS FUCKING NIGHTMARE BE OVER!—”

You froze.

He didn’t.

Keigo kept begging you to kill him.

Incessantly so.

He didn’t know what to do.

This was a tantrum, maybe. More like a breakdown. It felt dramatic. But, his thoughts were real. He’d be happy to die, especially by your hand. Then you wouldn’t have to take care of him and he wouldn’t be able to feel as awful as he did.

You kept holding him, squeezing him harder and harder still.

Finally, Keigo tuckered himself out and sagged against you.

You reached up to the side table, grabbing your own glass of water, and offering it to him. You still hadn’t spoken.

Part of him thought to apologize, crack a joke even. But he couldn’t make himself do either. Instead, his shaking hands grabbed the glass. You didn’t fully let it go, just guided it to his lips where it dribbles down his chin.

Keigo sputtered a sob.

He couldn’t stand being so weak.

“Love,” You spoke so softly as he sipped. “I will never hurt you like that. I won’t let anyone else, either.”

Keigo suddenly started fucking laughing, for the first time in so fucking long, ripping the cup fully from your hands and throwing it across the room. It shattered in a wild display of raining glass and water. He hadn’t laughed in what felt like months. He let it loose, grabbing your face and directing it right at you, breath curling over your cheeks.

He knew it was cruel, to take it out on you. He hated himself for it even as he was doing it.

“How the fuck do you think you’ll protect me?” Keigo cackled into your face, horror beginning to overtake your features. He didn’t care. It felt good— “You’re just some stupid, weak, quirkless civilian— how the fuck do you think someone as powerless as you can protect me when I can’t even protect me—!”

He kept laughing, but he was crying. He couldn’t tell which was which. Keigo could only tell he was hysterical.

This whole time, since he had woken up in the hospital, you had been nothing but the perfect partner. You had been so kind, asking for nothing in return.

And yet, he’d verbally strike you like this for no other reason than his own hurt.

How fucking cruel.

You let Keigo go, unable to disguise the pain in your expression. You didn’t say anything back to him. As you left the room, you were covering your eyes with your arm. Keigo caught one of your sobs as you fled to the bathroom, almost slamming the door.

Keigo heard your muffled cries for hours until you fell asleep on the bathroom tile as his old burns and guilt ate him alive.

He tried his exercises again.

-------------------

That night, Keigo was too deep in sleep to hear you enter your shared bedroom. Part of you didn’t want to sleep next to him. You thought about returning to the bathroom or moving to the couch. But, you couldn’t make yourself.

Keigo’s words hurt so bad.

Partially because they were cruel. They gnawed at your insecurities, the fears you were desperately suppressing for him.

Partially because you hated the fact you couldn’t do more, despite already doing so much.

Partially because you knew that Keigo would never say things like that to you if he wasn’t being eaten up on the inside.

Partially because the love of your life asked you to snuff his life out.

It all hurt. Stung. Ached. Burned.

There was a small detail that hurt in a different way.

He called you quirkless.

You weren’t quirkless.

Your quirk was so weak and so taxing, sure. It was basically unusable. For fucks sake, you never even bothered to tell Keigo directly as you never used it. He had access to citizen quirk records, and you figured he checked in the several years the two of you had been dating. Apparently not.

But, you did have a quirk.

You stood next to your bed, Keigo covered in the comforter and soft white blanket you’d gotten for him. You could see the peakings of his back. His skin was marred with burns, cuts and scars that looked unimaginably horrible. You’d been avoiding looking at it, for him. You’d seen how it made him cringe.

But now with Keigo sleeping so deeply? You took it all in.

You looked at the nearly black scarring where the roots of his wings were. The fanning out of puckered, red skin from the burns. His back, which once rippled with the muscles that controlled his crazily powerful wings, was now a charred plain.

...

You had an awful, far-fetched, fucked up idea.

You sat, sinking into the bed as you contemplated your idea.

You brought your hands to your face, concentrating on your fingertips.

Small, tiny vines and green shoots left your fingers.

There’s absolutely no way that this will work.

But, you’d hate yourself if you didn’t try.

Life reclaimed life, you supposed.

You drummed up a half-assed plan. It was a weak, frail idea— it would need a lot of support. Even then, you didn’t want to give yourself false hope. You couldn’t give Keigo false hope. It would ruin him.

...

You’d have to fix your diet. Eat lots of nutrient-rich food. Take more vitamins too.

You slotted yourself next to Keigo who, in sensing your warmth, turned into you, pressing into your front. His head nuzzled into your chest, an arm wrapping around your waist.

You heard him wince at the motion, flinching in his sleep.

You had to try.

One of your hands went to his back, brushing down the comforter to reveal the particularly gnarly scars where Keigo had lost part of himself. You laid your hand flat on the fire-flayed skin, praying you don’t wake him. You concentrated, watching small greenery go from your fingers to his flesh, desperately trying to repair the damage that had been done.

------------------------------------

Keigo apologized to you the next morning. He clutched your chest and told you how sorry he was. He told you how he knows he’s acting out, he’s just so fucking sad—

You told him that he didn’t need to justify himself. Not to you. Though, you accepted his apology and asked him to not say those kinds of things to you again.

“I’m trying my best, and I know it's not enough sometimes... but it's all I’ve got,” You speak to him in your own small voice. One that portrayed a weakness that you hadn’t shown since Keigo had been injured.

He felt even guiltier.

But, the second week was better.

His exercises were getting easier. Eating came a little better too. You started cooking more, not getting as much takeout. Part of him missed the comfort of familiar street foods, but another part of him craved the home-cooked meals you made so much more. They helped him feel better too, packed with veggies and lean proteins.

Keigo didn’t notice, he was far too out of it, but you were already looking more haggard.

It came with using your quirk in general, let alone to the extent you were pushing it. It was a pitiful quirk and you’d never strained it half as far as you were then.

It had a price.

To heal others, even something as small as a paper cut would take from your own body.

And, you were dedicating at least thirty minutes a night to attempting to ‘heal’ (read: reconstruct) the tissue of Keigo’s back. You had to start so deep in his muscles; it hurt to push your quirk that far down. Within the first five minutes, that first night you tried, you were silently crying from exertion.

But, you didn’t relent.

Each day, it was a little easier.

Sure, you had bad nights where it was extra hard. You blamed it on not eating well enough, using up too much of yourself during the day.

It was a shitty excuse, notably. Your quirk was weak and self-destructive, it was beyond your bodily capabilities. There was no way to tell if it was even working to heal Keigo’s body. It was a gamble.

And your wager was your health and body.

Even eating optimally and taking a bevy of new vitamins each morning before Keigo awoke, you could tell your physical health was suffering. You were losing a bit of fat already. Dark circles were punched under your eyes from the exhaustion. You had developed the slightest shake when you moved.

And the worst part was, you knew that you’d only get weaker from here on out.

So, you upped your calorie intake. You kept careful track of the foods you ate, the same with Keigo’s. He didn’t seem to mind the delicious meals you now coveted crafting, no matter how tired you were. If he was eating better, it would probably help you too, right?

You could only hope, resting it all on a long shot.

--------------------------

Week three was good, but hard.

The HPSC commission forced Keigo to do a media appearance. He told them, bluntly, that he couldn’t fake it right now. Probably, forever.

They told him to suck it up, get out there, and put some hope into their society that was being pulled apart at the seams.

Keigo refused to let you come. He didn’t want to think about how you’ll look at him when he’s all dressed in his hero uniform, wings absent from his back, forcing him to bear the two empty slots of his jacket.

When he mentioned it, you offered to sew them up.

Keigo felt horrible, but he just gave a nod, handing you his jacket without looking at you.

You stitched the slits shut for him. Keigo requested red thread for the stitching and you obliged him.

(You made note that Keigo truly had no hope. You couldn’t tell him a thing about your quirk usage until you were positive that it would have results.)

The media appearance went okay. Not great, but okay. ‘Hawks’ was dead, and Keigo was not a performer like he was. Though he still went by his hero name, his real name only known by himself, the Commission, Dabi (may he rot in hell), and you. He coveted that you had the intimacy in knowing his identity, but it felt dirtier now that Dabi (Touya?) had that name in his throat as well.

When Keigo came home from the media appearance, he was keyed up. He flitted around the apartment while you made dinner. There was an anxiousness in his movements.‘Hawks’ would’ve taken to the skies to fly off some of this fractious energy. Keigo just had to wait for food to be ready and pray that the feelings went away.

Just before dinner, he decided to try exercises outside of the one his physical therapist assigned him. He was feeling energetic enough, right? Might as well pull out some of the easier moves from his hero training.

Keigo moved to his now seldom-used at home gym. He picked up a dust-covered five-pound weight and proceeded to try and curl it. The moment Keigo brought it above his head, his back tensed and burned something fierce.

The weight fell from Keigo’s hand, half-thrown, luckily missing any and all of his toes and feet.

He cried in frustration, stuck staring at himself in the wall of mirrors.

Keigo truly thought he looked pitiful.

He was still wearing his hero uniform sans the jacket. He’d lost a lot of muscle mass with his more sedentary state. His hair was too long. He had gotten more pale, losing his few freckles. His eyes were bloodshot and his teeth curl over his lips in a snarl—

“Keigo?” You opened the door to the gym, eyes wide with shock, but your tone didn’t change. He just glowered at you from the mirrors. You spoke again, staring him down with an almost scarily neutral poker face. “Dinner’s ready. Would you like to eat? Otherwise, I can save it for you.”

Keigo didn’t reply. He went back to trying to pick up the weight, screaming each time and hating how his back burned so intensely.

You left without saying anything.

---------------------------

Week four was hard because you and Keigo’s relationship is beginning to suffer. Or, it had been, but it was reaching a fever pitch.

Keigo’s lack of human contact, lack of physical activity, and general cabin fever were getting to him. He was lashing out more and you, kind as you were, were having trouble dealing with it.

Your own run downstate was eating you alive, literally. No matter how much you put into your body, you needed more to heal Keigo. You were up to two hours a night of working at Keigo’s tissue with your quirk. By the end of your ‘sessions’, you would simply pass out and fall into listless slumber. You were losing a lot of sleep each night, but you were determined to keep going.

Your exhaustion, in general, was making you a bit more prickly towards Keigo’s increasing frequent outbursts.

It all came to a head on a Sunday night.

The two of you were curled up on the couch, half-cuddling and half-watching TV.

A notice for breaking news showed red on the screen.

Both of you tensed. Before Keigo’s injury, he’d be rushing to throw on his hero gear and fly to help. Now, he just sat next to you, stiff as a board with pin-pricked pupils.

A picture, pre-PLF injury Endeavor flashed on screen.

“The Hero Public Safety Commission has just made the press release the former number one hero, Endeavor, is no longer in comatose.”

You watched a real, happy smile, spread on Keigo’s face. For a moment, there was a sliver of hope—

“But, he still remains in critical condition. Due to injuries affecting his central nervous system, he is reported as being in a state of paralysis. As of now, his life still hangs in the balance, though he is lucid.”

Keigo stiffened again.

There was rage painting his face.

And pain.

You stiffened with him.

You did not have it in you that night to deal with one of Keigo’s explosive moments.

“Endeavor has left us all with this message—”

The camera flashed to an old video of the old ‘number one hero’, healthy and strong with a fist raised in the air.

You braced for impact as Keigo stood, shoulders hunching over.

Endeavors voice washed over your living room,

“Go Plus Ultra!”

And Keigo, honest to god, shrieked.

He fell to his knees and beat the floor beneath him. He slammed his fists in the hardwood over, and over, and over again. You slipped to the ground with him, trying to grab at his fists.

“Keigo, you’re gonna hurt yourself—” You tried to tell him. You managed to capture one of his fists, urging it to stay down-

But, you looked up to see Keigo giving a feral look with a frenzied, white-hot sneer all for you.

And his free fist flew towards you. It connected hard and solidly to your jaw.

You hadn’t been expecting it. Keigo had never struck you before, not even close. For fucks sake, he had never even raised his voice at you before his injury.

So, how could you expect to brace yourself for it?

The force of Keigo’s blow knocked you back. You jolted, falling onto your side and turning your head to the side, away from Keigo.

You brought a hand up to cup and shield your face, your jaw and eye socket throbbing.

All you could feel was shock.

And sadness.

And horror.

And anger.

And terror.

Keigo snapped out of it.

The news report was still playing, but he couldn’t hear it.

There was only the rushing of blood in his ears.

His mouth turned bone dry.

He had watched you move with his strike, falling more to the ground, hiding yourself—

“Oh my g-god, (Y/N),” Keigo’s voice was slippery and warbling. “I-I d-didn’t—”

“No,” You stood up, still holding and hiding your face from him. His heart was crumbling in his chest.

You looked at him with only fear and heartbreak.

Keigo scrambled up, trying to apologize, hold you, mend this before it got worse—

But you put the hand that wasn’t cupping your face out, just barely touching his chest. You refused to let him any closer.

“H-hey Kei’?” Your voice sounded so, so shaky. It’s hardly there. You were holding back tears and it was so obvious. It made every part of Keigo burn with shame. “I can’t today. Maybe another day, I could deal with this, y-ya know? But not today, okay? Have a g-good night.”

You walked away before he could say anything else.

You dashed off to the guest room, shutting and locking the door before falling against it and breaking. You cried and rocked yourself as you tried to self-soothe your shattered body and mind.

The month prior had been so hard. The person you love was hurt so deeply, and though you were trying with everything you had to help, it didn’t seem like enough. You were getting verbally beat up semi-frequently and now Keigo had fucking hit you.

You were scared. You were terrified that this would become the norm. That Keigo’s outbursts would continue to worsen, as they had been, and you would become a physical punching bag for him.

It especially hurt because you were trying so hard to help Keigo.

You weren’t delusional enough to think you could really fix him, were you?

The fact that you were secretly and silently trying to regenerate Keigo’s body with a quirk he didn’t even know you had struck you bluntly in your mind.

“I’m just so fucked up, aren’t I?” You laughed and sobbed to yourself at the same time, slamming your head backward on the door, relishes the pain that floods your skull. It was a reprieve from the bruises blooming across your cheekbone.

You eventually managed to cry yourself to sleep, literally. You curled up in a ball on the floor next to the door, worn down to the bone.

In the early morning, far before dawn, you pulled yourself into half-wakefulness.

You were relentless and you were coming to hate yourself for it.

You needed to work on Keigo, no matter how you shitty felt.

You crept into the master bedroom, trying to be silent. You didn’t want to wake him. Only when you were fully in the room did you notice a soft lamp is still on despite it being early, early morning.

Wide awake and upright, Keigo looked horrified to see you. He looked at you, shaking and half-sobbing into a pillow he clutched to his chest.

You both seemed shocked to see each other.

You sniffled as you turned off the lamp, stripping down to just a t-shirt and panties before climbing into your side of the bed.

You refused to face him while he was awake. You got as comfortable as you could (which wasn’t much).

There was half an hour of disgustingly awkward silence. It coated the room, bearing the two of you who refused to sleep.

“I’m s-sorry,” Keigo had yet to move. He was frozen in place as you were turned away from him in the dark. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

Silence.

Your mouth felt dry and your mind parched.

“Keigo,” You spoke like a being empty. You truly felt like it too. “If you ever touch me like that again, I will do worse than just leave you.”

It was a threat.

You let yourself have it, in all of this. You deserved one low blow.

Keigo slowly slid down into the covers, babbling apologies and beginning to cry again.

“Stop, Kei’,” You finally turned towards him, cupping his face. He blinked at you, eyes wide and glassy. “I love you. Just stop. Apologizing doesn’t make something like this better. I can’t do this if you keep hurting me, you know that. Just be better.”

Keigo winced at that. He knew it was true, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful.

You fell asleep on each other that night. You let your headrest nestled up against Keigo’s chest. He breathed softly above you, arms wrapped securely around you, holding you tightly like he was afraid you’d leave. You wouldn’t. You made the decision to stay at the beginning of all this. Your threats would always be empty.

Idly, you had an arm thrown over Keigo’s waist, snaking up the back of his shirt to press your fingertips against his scars. Your roots and greenery didn’t have to go as deep now, as far as you could tell.

But, it had been a month with no discernable progress, visual or otherwise.

But, you held onto hope.

Because you had to hold onto hope that Keigo would get better.

All of him.

-------------------------------

The second month was... different.

Keigo tried with his whole heart to earn back your trust.

You flinched at him for the first week or so.

He hated himself so fucking much each time you did. But, he never blamed you. He couldn’t.

(Even as you twitched away from him in the daylight, you tirelessly worked on his scars in his sleep. You couldn’t give up, no matter how awful you felt).

Keigo did his exercises several times a day. He made a few more media appearances but refused to be seen with Endeavor. He (and truthfully, the Commission) knew that he could not psychologically handle it.

You were rapidly getting weaker, but you didn’t care. You ate more, slept when you could, and pushed on. You were up to three hours of healing a night. Tears rolled down your cheeks the whole time.

You were clinging to the prayer that you could unburn Keigo’s back like it would save you from your personally made hell.

This was despite the fact he was already crawling out of the pit himself.

Your existence was eased slightly as Keigo was starting to help out more.

Keigo wasn’t anywhere near normal— normal Keigo was dead in a disintegrated building, miles from your shared home. But, he was getting better.

His muscles felt better. He wasn’t sure how, but they did. His PT exercises must’ve been working. The outbursts he had thrown so often during the first month pittered out to maybe once or twice a week. They were calmer now. You were still his anchor, of course, that was undeniable. But, it was mostly crying and clutching and not screaming and breaking.

It was a welcome shift.

Most of the time, Keigo would pull you into his lap and wrap you in his embrace. Softly, he’d sway and rock the two of you, like he was trying to lull and calm not just himself, but you in tandem.

A lot of the time, this was true.

Your flinching subsided and Keigo had no more close calls with any physical violence towards you. In a few high strung moments, he still snapped at you. He’d apologize, and do better. At least, you told yourself that. That’s how you saw it anyways.

Keigo was thoroughly traumatized. His mind was an open nerve and that had consequences. You were so endlessly tired. What kind of wounds and trauma were you incurring?

You forced yourself not to think about it.

Part of you, during this month, wanted to simply pack a bag and leave without a trace.

But, you stayed with Keigo. You stayed determined.

(Or, you stayed out of spite. On your bad days, you really had trouble figuring it out.)

Your body looked like shit. You were endlessly glad Keigo still wasn’t in a position to be having any sort of sex because he probably would’ve noticed how fucked up your body was getting.

You shook constantly, always quaking like a leaf in a rainstorm. Your skin bruised with almost any contact beyond light touch. Your eyes, once vibrant and expressive, had sunk in.

Your body, no matter the several thousand extra calories you forced yourself to eat a day, still ran through your fat reserves. It was leeching muscle from you. It made your joints feel raw.

It almost hurts that you noticed how Keigo is so pained, but he didn’t notice you falling apart.

-----------------------

The third month was when shit hit the fan.

It was near the end of the month.

You were doing so badly. You stretched yourself far beyond your body's abilities.

You felt particularly sick, but you needed to get groceries. Keigo couldn’t himself for a host of reasons, which made it your job. You kissed him on the cheek as you left for the market.

Meanwhile, Keigo’s physical therapist dropped by for a check-in appointment.

Keigo did his exercises beautifully. He had to admit, his muscles didn’t ache in nearly the same way they used to. They only really hurt when the weather changed, like he was some old, arthritic man.

“Wow!” His therapist gasped, watching him complete his exercises. “It’s looking great, Hawks. It looks like you’ve gained back a lot of strength.”

The small amount of praise made him beam as he sat up.

“I just want to check the actual wounds around your back, if that’s alright? Just feel the scar tissue,” The therapist asked. Keigo bit his lip, slowly pulling off his tee-shirt. He didn’t like the idea of anyone’s hands being that close to the intimate roots of his dead wings.

But, it was necessary.

Keigo faced his back to her.

All he got was an audible gasp as the therapist’s hands traced at his spine.

“The progress back here- Hawks this is insane,” The other was alight, pressing a thumb somewhere near the root. It hardly even hurt. “The scar tissue— it’s not gone, but it's a lot more tender than it should be. Like it's actually healing.”

“Is that why it doesn’t hurt so bad?” Keigo asked, letting a few slivers of joy light him up from the inside out. During his initial prognosis, multiple doctors had said that he was going to be on fire for years, not months.

The therapist nodded, “Looks like it. Even the scarring on the surface looks pretty good. Must have some damn good genes to be healing like this.”

The two laughed, Keigo feeling more lighthearted than he had in months.

You, on the other hand, were greatly struggling.

You were so, so fucking cold; yet another bi-product of your overextension. You were wrapped in an oversized cardigan on top of one of Keigo’s mock necks. You couldn’t stop trembling as you try to shop as quickly and effectively as possible. Anything to get you home as soon as possible.

You had a great deal of difficulty doing this, though.

If you moved too fast, your vision blacked out. It had been like that for a while, a week or two. You’d lost track. You figured it was your iron, maybe blood pressure.

It was an easy thing to hide at home, but much harder in public.

You reached for something high on a metal shelf, tossing it into your cart. You needed another item, on the bottom shelf. You dropped to your knees, your body aching and rolling.

Almost done.

So close.

Then you can go home and rest.

You stood up too fast. Your vision went black ringed for a second. You stumble, trying to catch yourself as you lost sight.

You felt weightless for a moment, spinning, Though your limbs felt weighed down, impossible to move. As your vision returned, its field wouldn’t move, pointed up at the ceiling of the crowded market.

There were people speaking, shouting around you.

Alarmed.

Speaking to you?

You didn’t care.

You were so, so tired.

You let your eyes slip shut.

------------

Keigo had been waiting for you for several hours longer than it took to go grocery shopping, sure. And, to have you gone from the apartment so long made him itch too. It had been eating him, making him pace around. You hadn’t been answering your phone either. He figured you had made a detour and let your phone die.

When he received a call from the local civilian hospital about you, he feels his blood freeze in his veins.

“You’re listed here as (Y/N)’s emergency contact as a partner, yes?” The nurse asked. “They collapsed at a local market. They’re stable, but we’d recommend coming to the hospital as soon as you’re able to.”

Keigo nodded, head swimming.

You’re hurt.

You’re safe, but you’re hurt.

...

Keigo was whisked to the back of the hospital in a poor disguise. He gets recognized, given some extra security. The scar that marred his face was enough of a marker even if he didn’t have wings. He hardly cared. He couldn’t.

Your door opened to a very dark room, soft beeps and hums filling it.

He imagined that he must've been feeling close to how you felt, seeing him in such a similar position those few months ago.

The nurse enters ahead of him, clicking around on a tablet to pull up your chart.

Keigo could hardly pay attention. He felt like he was going to die, seeing you like that.

You had an IV, pushing fluids into your thinned arms. Your face was hollow looking, sockets sunken, especially with your eyes closed like they were. You had several blankets on you, piled over you. Yet, you were still visibly shivering.

The nurse whispered, “They’ve been asleep for a while now. A doctor will be in soon. Just sit tight.”

She left the room while Keigo pulled a chair up to your bed.

The smell of the hospital burned his nose. It reminded him far too much of his own time. All that pain.

The ache in his back flared, but he figured it was somatic.

Keigo reached out as he sat, holding one of your frail-looking hands in both of his own (had you looked this purely death stricken this morning? Keigo couldn’t recall either way, and he hates himself for it).

Your eyes slowly opened.

Keigo met your gaze, breath caught in both of your throats.

Neither of you got a chance to speak, not a moment of fucking comfort, before a doctor barged in, flipping through your chart with a bored look on his face.

“We finished up your testing. Lucky for you, no concussion or fractures from your fall,” The doctor nods. He doesn’t even seem to notice Keigo, or rather, Hawks. “The rest of your results aren’t looking so great though.”

Your hand stiffened violently in Keigo’s grip. Your face went from worn and exhausted to filled with terror and... guilt?

You were fucked.

The doctors and nurses had mentioned to you that they were fairly certain that all of your symptoms came from quirk overuse. You started weakly crying at that, your nurses looking confused. You didn’t elaborate then. You knew, the moment you woke up in the hospital that you were going to have to confront your own damage to your body.

You were going to be forced to explain it.

To Keigo.

The doctor continued.

“Low levels of nearly all essential vitamins and minerals. Particularly low iron, magnesium, and potassium. In general, your test results and physical state would lead me to think you’re suffering from malnutrition. But, your panel shows that your metabolic rate is actually going abnormally quickly in a way that could only be linked to-”

Wait for it.

“Quirk overuse-”

Keigo barked out a laugh, letting go of your hand, “I’m sorry, but what? They’re quirkless, it has to be something else.”

You didn’t say anything. Your eyes, glassy and unfocused, are trained on your lap. You’re taking sharp, quick breaths.

You’re going to have to tell him everything.

The doctor flips through your chart again, shaking his head and bringing it over for Keigo to look at, “I apologize if this seems out of turn, but they’re listed in the public files as having a quirk... It’s marked as a weak healing quirk, but all the same, any strength of quirk has overuse.”

Keigo is stone still.

There’s tension so thick in the air of the room that the doctor excuses himself.

Keigo, for months now, had been in a traumatized stupor. His normally sharpened senses, aided by his wings, were the key to so much of his cunning. Both his physical and mental states were affected, which had made him less observant.

It had caused him to disregard so much.

But now, in your stupid, acrid hospital room, he was quickly putting it together.

His back burned again.

You felt frozen. You couldn’t force yourself to move. You couldn’t do anything other than look at your lap and roll in your head. Your body hurt so bad, your head hurt too, and so did your fucking heart.

“Can I clarify? Because I think I have an idea of what’s going on.” Keigo had physically moved away from you. He leaned back in his chair, staring down with a mix of expressions you couldn’t suss out. It made you feel even sicker.

You nodded.

“Breath, (Y/N),” Keigo reminded you. He watched you take a massive inhale, followed by tears beginning to gather. You still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Have you been... using your quirk on me? Without me knowing?” Keigo asked, trying to keep his voice firm, but truthfully, it wanted to waver and bend so badly. “Please be honest.”

You nod, breaking down to rub at your eyes.

Keigo doesn’t stop the instinctual way he moved towards you, leaning over your bed and wrapping his arms around me.

With his cheek pressed to the top of your head, he broke the illusion:

“Please tell me what’s going on. Please.”

And so, you did.

It came out tearfully, you spilling and cracking as you did. You felt stupid and guilty and awful, but at least you were out of this fucked up lie.

It all poured out of you. Your fear and your desperation were all laid out and Keigo was reading the cards.

You explained that your quirk has always been weak in addition to taxing on the body. Hence, you had seldom, if ever, used it as an adult. You were effectively quirkless and you were okay with that. Keigo had never asked so you never told him.

You tell him, voice shaking, what happened the night Keigo had pleaded with you to kill him.

“I-I, Kei’,” You push out, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I didn’t know what to do. You were so hurt and so sad and I had this stupid fucking idea that maybe, maybe I could use to my quirk to heal you.”

Keigo’s breath catches. He doesn’t say anything for a moment before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me? Ask me?”

“I didn’t know if it would work. I still don’t know if it does. It didn’t wanna... I didn’t want to get your hopes up. E-especially since it would’ve been coming from me.” You pressed harder into him like you’re scared of him disappearing. “You were already so crushed.”

Keigo didn’t know what to say. There was a swirl of emotions bubbling and writhing in his body and mind and he didn’t know what to say for the first time in a long time.

So he didn’t say anything.

Keigo sat back in his chair, putting his elbows to his knees, using folded hands to rest his head on, parsing through his own feelings.

“K-Keigo?” You asked, wiping a tear away. As much as Keigo hated seeing you like this, he also recognized your state was by your hand.

Right?

“Sweetheart, I love you—” Keigo stopped himself, sighing deep in his chest. “But, I can’t... I just need some time.”

You nodded, tears coming back to drip down your face.

Keigo just watched with a neutral expression.

-----------------

Despite not being able to handle talking to you, Keigo was more than willing to help you out of the hospital. You were discharged with a prescribed diet and vitamins as well as a followup appointment in a few weeks.

“And, most importantly,” The doctor made eye contact with you. “Don’t use that quirk of yours until further notice. Honestly, with it being so destructive, I can’t understand why you would in the first place.”

You burned with shame.

The night you came back from the hospital, Keigo took incredible care of you. He didn’t talk much during it, not to you anyways. He was nearly constantly speaking under his breath, all unintelligible. From his tone and myriad of expressions, you guessed he was verbally processing.

Keigo gingerly gave you a bath, scrubbing away the smells and stickiness of the hospital. He managed to cook you one of the nutritious recipes you had shown him a few weeks ago. You sheepishly had to ask for another portion, explaining how your metabolism burned so quickly.

“Have...” Keigo finally spoke while making you another plate. “Have you always been eating this much?”

You nodded, sipping your water, “For a long time, yes.”

He hated himself for not noticing such obvious things.

Keigo kept carrying you from place to place, no matter how much his back hurt. He didn’t care. He couldn’t.

He laid you in bed at some point, sliding in next to you. He still hadn’t spoken much since you’d left the hospital.

You had tried to babble apologies and beg for forgiveness, but selfishly, Keigo wasn’t listening. He was trapped in his own head. Even when you clung to him in the bath, he could hardly make himself hold you up from sliding too far into the water.

It almost hurt to touch you.

It was late when Keigo finally verbally, directly regarded you.

“Why?” Keigo asked. You’re both turned away from each other. The bed had been vibrating with your harsh breathing and crying for an hour or so now. “Why did you do all this?”

You stop shaking, but only for a moment.

Your voice is so soft, weak, “Please don’t blame yourself. It was my choice.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Keigo could hear the anger in his voice. “Why. Did. You. Do. This?”

You’re silent for a moment.

And then you’re sitting up, yelling.

“Because I didn’t know what else to fucking do!” You gripped your hair at the roots, pulling. “You asked me to fucking kill you, Keigo! You begged me to!”

Keigo sat up, staring you down. He felt so much anger and rage in him, it was bubbling up, “That doesn’t mean you had to hurt yourself like this for me!”

“I didn’t want to hurt myself! I wanted to help you! Using my quirk was all I could do!” You looked over at him, digging your nails into your exposed thighs. “What else was I supposed to do!”

“Exactly what I thought you were doing, helping me!” Keigo screamed back at you. “You were doing so good at it!”

“You wanna know why I could even help?!” You shouted. You grabbed Keigo’s shoulders and brought him inches away from your face. “Because, every night, I got to give myself just a shred of hope that you would get better. That maybe, maybe your wings would come back and you’d smile like you used to instead of yelling at me, and hitting me, and asking me, begging me, to slit your fucking throat!”

You couldn’t stop crying. Your body was so run down, so depleted, but it still musters up the energy to drip tears like a flooded creek. You wanted to run and leave the bed, retreat to the bathroom where you can break down on the tile in peace, alone where Keigo wouldn’t have to watch. You’d done it enough prior to know he wouldn’t check on you.

Keigo stared at you with wide eyes.

He didn’t know what to say at first

He was feeling so much—

Keigo didn’t know what to do or say.

So, he just twisted the knife, one could say.

“You should’ve just left if you were really that miserable with me.” Keigo regretted it the moment it left his lips. You tense up, looking at him with a gaze he could only call broken.

“No,” You grabbed your shoulders, rocking yourself. “No, Kei’, I couldn’t, I won’t—”

“Then stop complaining.” Keigo shrugged. God, this was awful, wasn’t it? Why wouldn’t he just shut up? “You’re the one who stayed and tortured yourself. That’s on you.”

“So you’d rather have that I... left?”

“Duh,” Keigo laughed, staring down your crying form. You’re so decrepit in your current state. He hated looking at you, purely because he knows he was at least a portion of what led to this. But, he’d never admit it. “Fuck, (Y/N), you didn’t have to kill me, and you didn’t have to kill yourself either.”

He’s splitting inside as he watches you break in front of him. Some fucked up, sadistic part of him relishes it. The other, muted, more sane part is screaming at him to stop fucking talking-

“You really got yourself hospitalized for overusing a quirk on me that I didn’t even know you had. You were so desperately trying to get me my wings back, all while acting soooo supportive of me trying to live without them?!” Keigo bellowed at you. You cowered, bent legs beginning to slide off the bed — “Do you realize how fucked up that is? That, behind closed doors, while I was fucking asleep, you were trying to fix me? Well, guess what, (Y/N), I’m broken beyond fucking repair, and no cute little shit you pull is going to fix me!”

Keigo shrieked his last words.

You fell off the bed, slamming onto the floor. A sickening crack filled the room as your head, basically unsupported, met the hardwood.

“Stop it!” You were screaming yourself silly from the floor. Your head hurt so badly. Maybe you were bleeding. You didn’t care. “Stop it!”

You knew you couldn’t handle this.

You were raw. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t confront any more than you had already that day. Your body hurt so badly and your mind hurt too. Everything Keigo said just rubbed salt in the wounds he helped to create.

“Keigo, just fucking stop it!”

Your vision spun. You thought that maybe you were hyperventilating. You couldn’t feel your hands, numbness beginning to pull at your extremities.

“I’m fucking sorry!” You wailed. “What would do if you were in my position, Keigo?! Just watch me suffer and not do anything even if you could?!”

Keigo leaned over the bed, giving you the most empty look you’d ever seen him wear.

“I would’ve just fucking left, (Y/N),” He spoke in a monotone, eyes like dead coals. “I would’ve just left.”

You stared up at him.

This horrible feeling had filled you from toes to top and you couldn’t escape it.

Keigo didn’t say anything else as you panicked on the floor. He simply got up, left for the guest room, and slammed the door.

Neither of you ever felt as awful as you did that night.

--------------------

Keigo didn’t sleep that night.

Neither did you.

He figured (he hoped) you’d be gone by the morning. Maybe you would just pack your dusty suitcase and get the fuck out.

...

Truthfully, not a single fragment of Keigo wanted you to leave. No piece of him wanted you to go out of his life. God, if he really thought about it, the prospect of not being side-by-side in this world together threw him into bends of anxiety and pure grief.

Truthfully, as Keigo silently, tearfully, examined your actions, he felt his anger ebb away.

He understood.

Why you did what you did.

But it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.

Guilt was eating him, too. For all the horrible things he had said. The things he’d done that hurt you without regard for months now. The fact he never noticed you deteriorating. And all the nights you crept back into your shared room, for comfort and to keep trying to help him, though perhaps cruelly.

It was dawn when Keigo exited the guestroom. He figured that you were either gone or would be soon.

He was clearly mistaken.

Keigo stopped when he saw you at the kitchen table, head down, and resting on your folded arms. You were wearing a huge sweater, one of his, and a blanket around your shoulders.

Keigo had, incredibly selfishly, somewhat forgotten your physical state.

He ached.

“I made coffee,” You said quietly. You looked up, meeting Keigo’s gaze with bloodshot, puffy eyes. “It’s still warm.”

“Why are you here?” Keigo asked, heart starting to beat too fast again. “Why haven’t you left-?”

“Do you really want me to leave?” You asked with an unfamiliar edge to your voice. It’s not anger or malice, but something different. You stand, bracing yourself on the table, wobbling. Keigo wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his arms and apologize. But, he doesn’t.

You looked at him with this edge of fierce determination, asking the penultimate question, the core of this all, “Keigo, do you want me to leave because of my actions, or do you want me to leave because you don’t think you deserve help?”

There was a poignant quiet over the apartment.

The birds of the new day interrupted it from outside, chirping with the eos of dawn.

“I don’t think... I—” Keigo was speechless again, stuttering. “You shouldn’t have hurt yourself so bad.”

“That’s been established, I went too far. I should’ve told you, offered and asked, and go from there. It ultimately was a complete breach of boundaries and for that, I’m sorry. Fuck my good intentions, it was selfish.” You squeezed the edge of the table, eyes low. Your gaze turned up sharply to meet his, that edge of determination and fierceness in it that Keigo was unfamiliar with. “My question is, do you want me to leave?”

Keigo stared at his feet. His head was swimming, “You should leave.”

“I asked if you want me to,” You asked again. You were being more firm than you had ever been. You sounded unbreakable. It was that stubbornness that kept you there with him, right?

Keigo met your eyes with a sharp glare, “You should’ve left the night I asked you to kill me.”

You sighed, shaking visibly, but still keeping yourself so strong, “Please just answer me. Do you want me to leave? If we’re going to break up, let’s just call it that, and get it over with, okay Kei’?”

Oh, hearing you say ‘breakup’—

That broke Keigo.

Having to truly think and reckon with a reality where you weren’t with him and you weren’t facing the horrors of the world together was purely the stuff of nightmares.

The stupid little facade Keigo had so carefully crafted broke. The burns on his body started to ache anew, somatically. The scar over his eye twitched as tears were gathering anew.

“N-no,” Keigo hugged himself, shaking his head. “N-no— I don’t want you to go—”

You didn’t say anything, just watched him with a sad expression.

“Then I won’t.” You sat back down. “Keigo, I know that this is all fucked beyond belief. I know. But, I won’t leave. I really, really don’t want to. I won’t, not unless you want me to go.”

And Keigo was breaking for you again.

He somehow stumbled next to your chair, managing to fall to his knees and rest his head on your cold, cold thigh. He pressed his nose into your flesh, trying to fucking absorb your smell like you could disappear any moment.

“Why did you do it-” Keigo sobbed into your skin, nails biting in the flesh of your calves. It made you jerk in your seat. “WHY DID YOU HURT YOURSELF FOR ME!”

You didn’t have a good answer for him, so you didn’t reply.

Keigo’s grip on the flesh of his leg started to break skin as he wailed into your leg.

You just looked down at him with this expression of pure remorse, melancholy coloring your eyes.

You grabbed his clawed-hands, recalling the last time you tried a move like this with a twitch. You held his hands in your own, pulling him up, “You can’t do that, Keigo. You’re hurting me.”

“All I DO is hurt YOU!” Keigo crushed you into a tight hug, knocking the wind from you. You jolt forward into his death grip.

“It was my choice,” You remind him, so much weakness in your choice. “A very, very selfish one. If I was going to try to heal you, I should’ve asked.”

You started crying with him.

You both were just torturing yourselves, truthfully.

At his core, Keigo was a fucked up man who was so thoroughly repressed and manipulated, it was hard to see his psychological shortcomings. They were all so meticulously hidden.

But not then, not after losing his wings.

“I’m so fucked up,” Keigo kept crying into you as you had his hands locked together. “I hate myself for being this upset at you when you were trying to help me.”

“Love,” Your voice was so soft, releasing Keigo’s hands to pet his hair. “It wasn’t right for me to try and do what I did. You can’t help how you feel.”

“I could before I lost them!” Keigo muffled himself with your flesh.

Them being his wings, obviously.

You hauled him upwards, forcing him to sit in your lap. Keigo had always had a bit of size on you, but in your shrunken state, it was even more pronounced.

“Then you weren’t feeling,” You pressed your face to Keigo’s chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. He entangled himself with you, and you both just held each other for a long, long time.

------------------------

In the following six months, a many very important things happen.

Keigo got a place for you for two entire months, just so you two have some separation. After actually having a calm talk about your relationship dynamic since Keigo’s injury, it was comically apparent there were so many fucked up things that had happened and that you both needed a bit of time to collect yourselves.

It was a hard separation, but you still see each other at least half of the days of your time apart, and even a few that you snuck over for the night to stay over. Keigo was so, so thankful. Being wrapped in each other was a different experience, something actually healing.

You both got therapists, next. A couples therapist too.

Thank God.

Keigo had oodles of trauma to sort through, and you had your own shit to deal with as well. Not to mention the whole ‘Keigo being a dick to you because he was hurt doesn’t justify it’ kinda broke your brain for a second. Also, Keigo having to process ‘he was capital A abusive to you after he got hurt, and your only stability being the hope in healing you is much more complicated than just them trying to ‘fix’ you’ was a case of note.

It was weird, really.

When you moved back, fully, to Keigo’s (you weren’t sure if you could call it ‘your’ apartment anymore), it was nerve-wracking. It was under the understanding that you could move out if you needed to, that separation and an ending were just a corner away.

It made you feel more unstable than you had in months, but you kept up with it.

Keigo noticed, much more observant than he had been. About two weeks into you returning to the apartment, he asked the question, “What if we moved?”

You had been quietly eating your breakfast, but this startled you, “Move? Why?”

“I mean,” Keigo sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. His gaze flickered to the living room, recalling the times he broke down and was so awful to you. It shifted to the bedroom door where you broke boundaries over and over. “A lot of bad stuff happened here. If we’re going to have a fresh start, might as well live somewhere new, right?”

You mused on it for a moment, then nodded, “Yeah, that would be good.”

The next few weeks were the most healthy and productive that you and Keigo ever had, pre- or post-injury. Apartment hunting turned into purchasing a two-floored, highrise, insanely nice condo across the city. Keigo suggested buying a house, but you refused. You both liked the views too much to live somewhere so close to the ground.

You packed your things, mutually. You both threw away plenty, bits and bobs that had been relatively unused for a long time. Lots of old memories were thrown out to make way for new ones. Though it was sad and there was plenty of grief in it, you actually had each other this time.

When you found Keigo sobbing, clutching an old picture of him and Touya, one of the only of him from his childhood with the Commission, you held him and rocked him. You cried with him, not just settling for ‘dealing’ with him anymore.

When you cleaned out the kitchen, you found the two dozen extra vitamins and extracts you had been taking while healing Keigo. You stared at him, idly, for ten minutes, somewhere far off in your head. Keigo came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. Softly, he pulled you back from your mind. He helped you throw away each bottle, talking reverently to you so your gaze and mind would stay in that moment, and not those past and unsavory.

You helped each other, or, were learning to.

You and Keigo both had to agree that shopping for furniture was probably the most fun the two of you had in a while. With a facemask and a beanie on, Keigo appeared a lot less like his former self, allowing for the two of you to covertly search for new homewares without prying crowds.

The old apartment had originally been Keigo’s from his early years of being a hero. You simply moved in with him, adding yourself to his space. This time, you were making it together.

“What do you think of this one?” You turned to Keigo, next to you. Both of you laid on top of a fairly nice mattress, the store relatively empty aside from the employees and the two of you.

“I think it's good, it’s not too soft,” Keigo turned and smiled at you, speaking from behind his mask.

You couldn’t help sitting up, tugging the cloth mask just a bit lower to drop a sweet kiss on the side of his mouth, “Get out the credit card then, babe.”

The condo was sorted within a few weeks, full of furniture and slowly being decorated.

You also had the opportunity to christen the mattress, if you will.

...

How long had it been since you and Keigo had laid together like this?

Your bodies were sticky with sweat and cum, several rounds having passed throughout the night. Your new mattress was going to need a fresh change of sheets after this.

“Hey, angel, come over here,” Keigo tugged you closer to him, laying your head on his chest. You smiled softly, pressing closer. You missed it, truly, the warmth of his body and the feeling of his skin on your own like this.

“Alright, check-in,” Keigo pressed a kiss to your damp forehead. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel great,” You hummed, throwing a leg over his waist. “I can honestly keep going.”

“Should you?” Keigo raised an eyebrow and chuckled, nudging a knee between your legs. You flinched, knowing how sore you’d be in the morning already.

Though your body had recovered somewhat, you weren’t fully back to where you were before Keigo’s injury. You didn’t mind, though. Keigo had taken to doting on you a bit more than he used to.

You shrugged and Keigo just chuckled, bringing you ever-closer.

“Are you okay?” You straddled Keigo’s hips, cocking your head to one side.

Keigo was silent for a moment, stormy almost. He bit his lip, tracing hands and eyes over your figure, finally landing on your face. His softened hands cupped your jaw.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” His thumb rubbed over your lips. There’s something so melancholic about him. “I just missed you.”

You knew exactly what he meant by ‘miss’.

It was a feeling beyond sex, but rather intimacy. Sure, Keigo had been balls deep in you for the first time in months and that was ecstasy you wouldn’t trade the world for. But, this feeling Keigo regarded was different.

It had been so long since the two of you had been so softened around each other.

Guards, after months of being raised high, had begun to fall.

Thank God.

Your eyes watered as you lowered your face to his, ghosting your lips over his, “I missed you too, Kei’. I missed you so, so much.”

How many minutes of hell had your both endured? And how many were there still to go? Thoughts of fear and anguish constantly swirled within the two of you for so long. They certainly hadn’t stopped, but they were lessening. Therapy helped. Being in the new place with a fresh start did wonders for the two you. Keigo’s passion for cooking continued to grow and you had taken up a few new hobbies of your own.

It was the mundane, you supposed, that was the stitching for broken relationships. The real healing of proverbial flesh and bone was intimacy, vulnerability, and love.

“Hey, Kei’,” You kissed him breathless, once, twice, three times. “I love you, you know? A lot.”

“Yeah?” Keigo giggled, something high and light that he wouldn’t have released a year ago. “I love you too. So much.”

The night continued in tender fucking, the two of you visibly watching wounds begin to grow smaller and scar, no more fire, and no more forced stitchings.

Salvation came from time and small things, you supposed, half-asleep and nestled neck to Keigo, feeling better than you had in a long time.

---------------

You supposed, some time later, that karma gave the two of you a small gift. In the eyes of all things, it must’ve been just a spec, but God, it was something.

...

They had come back over a year and half from when you had tried to heal Keigo.

The attempt wasn’t forgotten, no, but it certainly wasn’t at the forefront of your minds like it used to be. Except the one morning that Keigo got up before you, sleepily yawning his way to the bathroom.

You heard his sharp gasp, loud exclamations in your half asleep state.

“Babe?” Your voice hoarse with sleep, you spoke. “You okay?”

Keigo jumped onto the bed, straddling over you and the comforter.

“(Y/N)!” Oh, his eyes were wet. Soft, gooey tears were streaming down his face as he shakily grabbed your wrists. He pressed them to the scars of his back.

Your eyes went wide as your hands brushed against small, soft feathers.

“Keigo!” You shouted, sitting up, urging him to turn around so you could take a better look.

Keigo trembled as he bared his back to you.

Your breath caught as your hands trailed down his marred flesh.

The scars, old and worn now, had faded a great deal. The charred plain calmed with time, perhaps by your own touch and very much so by Keigo’s own cells and flesh.

But, in the center of his back, where the roots of his wings once were, was something growing anew.

Small, burgundy feathers were growing from spindly looking, down-covered bones and skin.

They were small, nothing like his old wings. More aged, with their darker color. The feathers felt softer as you ran your hands along the largest, no bigger than your hand from wrist to tip.

Keigo shuddered.

“Do... Do they feel like they used to?” You asked, transfixed.

Keigo shakily shook his head, “N-no, they feel less sensitive I think. They feel different.”

...

As Keigo had healed and changed, so had his body.

His wings never grew to their own old size and power, not even close. They couldn’t support his own body weight, so Keigo never flew again. But, the feathers, wine-colored and almost bruised looking, could be sent to do small tasks, much like his old ones.

At first, it seemed cruel. After so long and so much, his wings grew back but in such a decrepit form. For days, the two of you waited and waited to see what the final form of his regrowth would be. In the end, at their best, they stretched out to about the span of Keigo’s arms. The feathers weren’t symmetrical either, even at their peak regrowth. Some grew in fluffy and rounded, while others were jagged, sticking out awkwardly from the rest of his form.

Over time, the inherent disappointment and despondence turned into appreciation.

Because they had come back, it just took time.

...

With enough time, Keigo wore them proudly, no matter how oddly they stuck out from his marred skin. Keigo’s body was still too damaged to do hero work proper, but he still was kept around.

At the end of the day, the feathers colored like dried blood represented something far larger. If the completely destroyed number two hero could come back to even a fraction of his former, angelic glory, that was something, right?

It was like in the eyes of all things, you were both awarded a physical manifestation of healing. The gnarly wings that grew from Keigo’s body may have been off-putting to some, but to the two of you, it was a testament to it all.

It just took time.

#salem writes #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #reader insert #my hero x reader #mha x reader #fanfiction #reader x my hero academia #takami x reader #keigo x y/n #angst #manga spoilers

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makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

#bnha 292 #best jeanist #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #hadou nejire #toogata mirio #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

worth the wait [five] // daisy johnson

summary: the longer Daisy spends with you, the more you realise that maybe nine years isn't enough time to get over her.

warning/s: mentions of PTSD.

author's note: this is the final part, but it was a little long so i’ve put it into two posts. hopefully the daisy stans appreciated it 😊

I woke with a start, immediately feeling my hair sticking to the nape of my neck and the need to shake off my duvet.

The fear of my nightmare still implanted in the pit of my stomach made me reach for my bedside lamp. I half expected someone to grab my hand in the dark, my imagination working overtime to scare the living hell out of me, but nothing happened except for the lamp turning on.

I sat up in bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. It was just a dream, nothing real. And I knew that, logically, since I was in my childhood bedroom instead of a dark torture chamber. Yet I couldn't stop crying and imagining the worst.

It was getting worse – the nightmares, the anxiety, the nausea. Ever since Daisy and my mum had told me to see a therapist, I knew it was getting worse, but I still hadn't done anything about it. Clearly, things had to change.

Barely thinking about, I found myself grabbing my phone and dialling Daisy's number. I hadn't spoken to her since she came over, and it was my fault things had been left on a bad note. That was only last week and I felt like an idiot as I heard the phone ringing.

"Hello?" her groggy voice came through, and I immediately felt bad.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I tried to silence my heavy breathing. "Hey, Daisy. It's, er, it's Y/N. I'm sorry, I– I didn't mean to wake you. I–"

"Y/N?" she asked, voice laced with fatigue and confusion. "Are you okay? What is it? Where are you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," I said quickly, trying to maintain my shakiness. I brought my legs up to my chest and wrapped an arm around them tightly. "I'm at home. I just–" I flinched, closing my eyes. "I'm sorry, did I wake you? My parents gave me your number and I– I didn't know what else to do–"

"You don't need to apologise," she cut me off, wakening up a little by the sounds of it. "I'm glad you called. What's wrong?"

I smiled dryly, wiping away at my tears. "I, er, you were right about me. I should have–" I breathed out deeply. "I need to talk to someone about... yeah. But right now I... I can't go back to sleep."

"Do you want me to come over? I'm not far and–"

"No, no!" I said quickly, slightly embarrassed. "You don't need to– it's the middle of the night. I just– I don't know what I was expecting. I just didn't want to be alone and I didn't wanna wake my parents and worry them."

"Of course," she said reassuringly. "It's okay. I won't come, but I can stay on the phone with you if you'd like? We can talk. Or we can just stay silent. Anything you want."

I sniffled and put my head between my legs, feeling my shoulders relax a little. The last thing I wanted was to be a bother to her.

"Thanks," I muttered, and I wasn't even sure if she heard it. "I'm sorry for how I acted last week... with this."

"We don't need to talk about it," she said softly, her voice raspy as she'd just woken up. "I just want you to be okay."

I closed my eyes, breathing out quietly. I wasn't sure what to say, but the sound of her voice was instantly reassuring.

It was quiet between us, for at least another minute or so, and all I could hear was her breathing on the other side. As much as I appreciated the company, I knew it was unfair of me to keep her on the phone.

Swallowing hard, I said, "Daisy?"

"Yeah? Are you okay?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, knowing I wasn't. "I don't think–" I sighed awkwardly. "I won't be falling asleep any time soon and I– er, you should go. I don't want to keep you on here for no reason."

"It's not for no reason," she reassured. "I'll stay on until you fall asleep, Y/N. You'll get tired eventually."

"But if I don't–"

"I'll stay on."

I nodded, despite her being unable to see me. "Thank you..."

It went quiet again, and I felt my heart rate returning to its normal pace as I distracted myself with the sound of Daisy's breathing. It wasn't hard to tire myself to the sound, as I was already exhausted, just scared. But when I closed my eyes and let her breathing comfort me, it almost felt like she was right next to me, and my fear slowly faded away.

—

When I woke up the next morning, I was drooling on my phone screen as the sun streamed through my curtains. When I wiped my mouth, a yawn escaped my lips and I moved my phone from my pillow, confused to why it was there. But then I remembered the early hours of that morning and felt my face flush with embarrassment. I checked the screen, seeing the call wasn't still on, but there was a text from Daisy.

Daisy: hey, Y/N, I hope you feel better in the morning. I figured you wouldn't want to wake up to me on the phone, so I hung up. Please don't be angry, but I'm on my way over to see you. I just want to make sure you're okay.

That message was sent fifteen minutes ago, so I wouldn't put it past Daisy to already be outside. It was embarrassing, don't get me wrong, but I appreciated that she cared enough to check on me, even after I'd treated her disrespectfully.

I'd just managed to brush my teeth when Daisy arrived. My mum called me downstairs, claiming it was for me, and I tried not to fidget in my pyjamas as I descended the stairs and saw Daisy waiting by the front door. When she saw me, a relieved smile was on her lips.

"Hey," she began quietly, hesitant to say more in case I was mad.

I exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. She'd helped me more than she'd known, and with that thought in my mind, I moved forward and hugged her gratefully.

"Thank you," I whispered into her shoulder, closing my eyes as my arms laced around her neck.

She returned the hug and I sensed her surprise.

"Anytime, Y/N," she replied with a squeeze. "I just want you to be okay."

I nodded, lingering for a moment longer than I probably should have, before pulling away. She searched my eyes with a hint of concern and I subconsciously grabbed her hand and kept ahold of it.

"I'm gonna book an appointment with a therapist," I told her, the thought terrifying me in itself, but I knew it was the right thing to do. "And I wanted to ask if you... would you..." I swallowed hard, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "Will you please come with me?"

"Of course I will," she promised, squeezing my hand and earning my attention. "I'll be with you whenever you want." She blinked, clearing her throat with realisation. "I mean, for the appointments, obviously."

Thankfully, her messy words brought a smile to my face and reassured me about the whole therapy thing.

"Thank you," I said, finding it cute how she was the one to avoid my eyes now. "Since you're here, you may as well stay for breakfast. If you're not busy, that is."

"Breakfast. Sure. I'd love to."

I didn't let go of her hand as I tugged her towards the kitchen to join me.

—

Having Daisy back in my life was probably the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

Not only had she literally saved my life as Quake, but she was also saving my life every day after. Whether it was accompanying me to my therapist appointments or hospital appointments, or hanging out with me way more than she needed to, she was more present in my life. I didn't ask her to – it only began when I'd asked her to come to my first therapist appointment – but she'd chosen to. And I didn't want to question it because I'd missed her more than I cared to admit.

My parents took her in as family like no time had passed and I was accepting her back into my life, too, but I didn't want to get too attached. She had a job to do at the end of the day, and knowing Daisy, she wouldn't stay for too long. I guess, in the back of my head, there was still that expectation of her picking up and leaving, just like she used to. Which was silly, since that was years ago, but still...

Despite her presence in my life again, we'd been avoiding talking about what we'd missed in each other's lives. The specifics anyway. I knew she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and found her family, and she knew I became an investigative journalist and did many news packages on different topics, but I didn't know anything more and neither did she. I wasn't sure if it was on purpose or if we just avoided it without thinking, but I knew we had to face the music soon.

We were getting coffee after she picked me up from one of my therapy sessions when I brought it up.

"So, my therapist has been helping me with some stuff," I began, staring at my coffee as we walked back to my house. "Stuff outside of my PTSD, that is."

"Oh?" Daisy asked, and I could see her looking at me in the corner of my eyes. "Like what?"

I took a sip of my coffee, trying not to feel embarrassed as I answered, "Well, we obviously talk about my life. And what happens in it. Who I'm with..."

"Yeah..." Daisy was grinning now.

I rolled my eyes, wishing my face wasn't as warm as it felt. "She noticed you've been dropping me off and picking me up and... you may have come up in conversation."

"Ah, so you talk about me," she said slowly, trying very hard not to laugh. "Did you tell her how amazing I am? Or how beautiful, charming and funny I am?"

I sighed, finally lifting my eyes to look at her. Brown eyes twinkled with amusement as she gave me her usual teasing smile, making me shove her in the shoulder gently. Laughter spilled from her lips and I hated the butterflies in my stomach at the sound.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, falling into step with me again. "You were saying. Go on."

Looking back ahead as we walked, I said, "Yes, well, we talked about you. And then she recommended that I try to catch up with you more. You know? Because we both talk so much about the good old days and even now, but not the in between. Not the parts that we weren't there for."

I looked back to Daisy when I finished, and she thankfully lost her amusement as she nodded in agreement. I half expected her to take the piss, but she was supportive as she glanced at me.

"I like the sound of that," she said, easing the nerves in my stomach. "So. What do you want to know?"

I cleared my throat, taking another sip of my drink and thinking of where to start. "Okay, erm... why don't we start with your S.H.I.E.L.D. friends? They're your family and I would love to get to know them better. What are they like?"

She nodded thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. "S.H.I.E.L.D., okay. Well, you met Jemma. She's basically my sister. Her and Fitz – I think I mentioned him before?" I nodded, recalling her throwing in the name in one of her stories. "They're together and they've been with me since I was recruited a few years ago. We've been through a lot together, but they've got my backs and I've got theirs."

I smiled at the carefree expression on her face. Just talking about them put her at ease and I felt a little better knowing that her time after high school wasn't completely terrible like I imagined.

"Then there's Coulson, of course," she continued, glancing at me every now and then to see if I was listening. "He's basically our dad. He's the reason I'm even with S.H.I.E.L.D. and he's always looking out for me, even when I'm doing stupid stuff."

"So, regularly then."

She nudged me in the arm at my comment, making me chuckle.

"He was how I learnt about my family," she explained. "There for me when I found them. When I got my powers. When I lost my family... he's been there through it all. I'd do anything for him."

I watched her carefully. "He sounds important to you."

Her lips curved into a small smile as brown eyes met mine. "He is."

She continued to tell me about the rest of her team and what everything was like at work, and the whole time she did, she was smiling.

"I'd love for you to meet them all," she finished, and I was surprised at the hint of nervousness in her voice. I didn't think she ever got nervous. "I mean, you've met Jemma, but the others– you should meet them, too. If you want to, that is."

"I'd like that," I said instantly, appreciating the way her eyes lit up and she tried very hard to hide her smile.

She cleared her throat, distracting from the pink spreading on her face, before asking, "So, you basically know about everything interesting that's happened to me these past nine or so years. What about you? Anything life-changing occur for you?" I opened my mouth to answer, and she added, "Apart from travelling around the world and being an investigative journalist?"

I feigned offence. "I hardly think that's fair. That's like me asking you not to talk about working for S.H.I.E.L.D. or being Quake."

Rolling her eyes playfully, she said, "Go on. Tell me something different."

I looked away from her in thought, thinking back to the past nine years. "I guess... oh, I know. I was almost married."

Her jaw dropped. "You were what?"

A laugh escaped my lips at her intrigued expression. She shook her head with disbelief.

"I have to know more," she insisted, before raising her brows. "You? Almost married?"

"It does sound strange," I agreed with amusement, before recalling the event. "It was about two years ago. I was with this guy who worked at the same paper I did. We'd been together for about a year and–"

"–and you realised he had a second family in the Bahamas?" she finished with a roguish grin.

"Very funny." I narrowed my eyes jokingly. "But no. I just realised I didn't love him. Well, I wasn't in love with him."

"Ouch."

"Ouch indeed." I paused, remembering the poor guy's face when I broke the news to him. "It was a month into the engagement when I told him the truth. He was very understanding, but–"

"–but you broke his poor little heart," she concluded, before wrapping an arm around my shoulder and tugging me closer. "Dear Y/N. The heartbreaker."

"Fuck off."

She laughed when she saw me attempting to fight a smile from my lips. Though eventually, one appeared anyway. Daisy always had the ability to bring out the best in me like that – I'd missed it.

"How about you anyway?" I asked, hoping for an opportunity to tease her in return. "Any boyfriends or girlfriends I should know about? Crazy exes, maybe?"

She snorted, swallowing her coffee before giving me a knowing look. "You're gonna need to brace yourself for this one. I doubt you'll believe me when it comes to this."

I rose an eyebrow with curiosity. "Damn, you've got me hooked, Johnson. Proceed."

And of course, that was the first and last time I heard about Agent Grant Ward. An interestingly dark tale of a dickhead of a man whose existence I was glad was no more.

"...so, do I win?" Daisy asked once she finished talking about him.

"Win what?"

She stared like it was obvious. "The best ex story, duh!"

"Wow." I snickered, shaking my head. "I guess you do."

Fist-pumping like an idiot, she said, "Knew it. Nothing ever beats homicidal psychopath almost-boyfriend."

"You need help."

"No, no I don't. I have you."

"Uh-huh."

"Love you, too."

—

Three months passed since returning from Myanmar and I was finally in a place where I could return to work. Even though I'd been putting together my research and interviews into a coherent news story at home, I hadn't physically been back to the newsroom in about a year.

My therapist had been helping me to treat my PTSD, my physical therapy was helping me get back function in my shoulder and arm, and the injury itself was almost healed, though I still had to wear a cast. Everything was actually beginning to look up.

I'd even sent off the complete news series about what I'd discovered in Myanmar to my editor which got published just before I returned to work. So, of course, as soon as I got there, that was the first thing everybody congratulated me on.

"Views have been going through the roof," Taylor, my colleague and closest friend at work, said as soon as he spotted me walking to my desk. "Your story is all anybody has been talking about!"

"Good to see you, too," I joked, an attempt to disguise my embarrassment at all the attention. "It's only been a year since we last saw each other."

He gave me a grin. "You know I missed you, Y/L/N, get over here."

I rolled my eyes playfully but accepted his hug, being careful of my shoulder. He squeezed me gently before letting go and perching himself on the edge of my desk as I took a seat. It felt strange to be back, but a good strange.

"I still can't believe you're actually here in the flesh," he said after a moment, eyeing me suspiciously. "I've been so used to quick calls and texts where I try to convince you not to do stupid stuff."

Chuckling, I shot him an appreciative smile. "You know I'm grateful for that. Even if I didn't listen."

"You not listening helped you get the best story though," he countered. "I bet you didn't expect S.H.I.E.L.D. to make the bust in the end though."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Definitely not. But I owe them a lot. They saved my life."

His expression softened. "That's another thing... thanks for not dying on me."

"You're welcome," I returned, though appreciated what he meant. "Now. Catch me up on everything I missed. Gossip an' all."

That was enough for him to pull up a seat and remind me of everything I'd missed whilst being away. We'd spoke many times whilst I was gone, but nothing quite beat a good bitching session in person.

Eventually though, our editor ended up interrupting and asked to see me in her office. I wasn't worried in the slightest, but there was still that tiny part of me that imagined the worst.

"You can stop holding your breath, y'know," Karla told me when I stopped before her desk. She seemed amused as she added, "I wanted to congratulate you on the human trafficking story."

Relaxing my shoulders, I raised my brows. "Oh. I– thank you. I'm glad you liked it."

"You put a lot on the line to get the results you did, but it shows," she continued proudly. "You've made an excellent name for yourself and done your fellow journalists proud."

"I didn't do it for that," I said politely, "but thank you. I just wanted to help those people in Myanmar the best I could."

She smiled. "And you did."

"Well, S.H.I.E.L.D. did."

"But you shared the truth, didn't you?" she reminded me. "Don't belittle this achievement."

I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet and watched as she took a seat at her desk chair.

"I heard that it was Quake who saved you back there," she said curiously. "You know, we've never actually gotten an interview with her. Nobody has."

Oh, so that's what she actually wanted.

"I thought, well, since you know her, you could get us an exclusive?" she asked.

I chewed on my lip. "Erm..."

"You don't have to," she added, noticing my reluctance. "But it could be good for everyone. The city can get to know its hero, you can get a great interview under your belt. And our paper gets all the views. What d'you say?"

I was beginning to regret putting that one quote from Daisy in my article now... I should have known Karla would want more. That was the thing with editors – you give them one taste and they want to eat the whole thing.

"I'll ask," I decided, which she seemed to love. "No harm in asking, but I can't promise anything."

Karla leaned back in her seat, nodding. "Very true. Thank you for understanding. I'll let you settle back into work now. Remember to take it easy, yeah? Don't want to lose my best journalist from overworking herself."

I smiled awkwardly as she laughed, before nodding in response and leaving her office.

It wasn't that I didn't want to interview Daisy, but I didn't want to ruin what we had by asking for a favour. Everything between us was going well, even if it was probably temporary and she'd have to leave soon. I assumed that anyway. And on top of that, I was certain I was falling in love with her again, just like I had nine years ago.

Could you blame me? It was impossible to just remain friends with her when she went through all this extra effort to make sure I was okay. Her kind, considerate, supportive self was always on my mind whether I liked it or not. A girl could dream, right?

After my first day back, Daisy picked me up outside. She insisted when she rang me at lunchtime to make sure I was okay, wanting to know everything about how my first day went. I couldn't find it in myself to say no, so I eventually found her sat on a chair in the lobby when I came downstairs after work.

#daisy johnson x you #daisy johnson #daisy johnson imagine #daisy johnson x reader #chloe bennet #quake #agents of shield #agent skye #marvel imagine #mcu

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pretoriafics · 4 years

Text

Therapy sessions with the devil

I'd did this request yesterday on my Portuguese blog, and I thought that you guys would love it!

Anonymous asks: Y/N is a therapist who works for Vought and is doing a few evaluations on the Super.

Word count: 1.806 Contain: Therapist!Reader x Homelander Warnings: Mention of sexual violence, mention of serial killers, mention of cases of children with psychopathy, mental disorders. +16 only Versão em português aqui PART 2 THE BOYS MASTERLIST

Your profession was gratifying.

You loved the idea of helping people, getting to know each other better, and getting them to learn to deal with life's challenges. For you, being a kind of "confidant", where people could talk about their lives without any judgments, was an honor and your purpose. You believed that it would make the world a better place.

However, it also had its burdens. Some things were difficult to hear, even for you with all your knowledge and professional background. Patients who suffered from sexual violence, for example, demanded of you a stomach that you were not always able to have. It was something you talked to your therapist about, and you kept a mantra in mind: After all, you were still human, and it was okay to feel that way.

And when Vought invited you to work as a therapist for The Seven, you went nuts. It was the chance of a lifetime!

Or, at least, this was what you thought at the beginning.

It was not uncommon for you to hear things that made your stomach a little sick, just like when The Deep told you about the way he “welcomed” Starlight. You felt nauseous but, on the outside, remained impassive, just watching him as a silent request to continue to talk.

All of them were, simply, not only media products but also puppets of the advertising world. You already had some political patients, and in fact, you thought The Seven was a similar case: Both went to that market with the intention, many times, to help people. However, they ended up corrupted in the middle of the road, forgetting their whole purpose in helping others.

You saw a point in common between The Seven: Everyone, with perhaps the exception of Starlight, was too worried about their own egos to be real heroes. They were all too narcissistic.

But Homelander was the worst of them.

The childhood phase was the most important part of a person's life. A traumatic childhood could lead to a troubled adult, as in the case of Mary Bell and Beth Thomas. Homelander's case was no different: his non-affectionate childhood, being raised as a laboratory rat, was the bigger reason to make him that kind of man.

Although at the same time you were fascinated about to study a mind like that - since one of the reasons why you did psychology would be to unveil the secrets of the human mind - each therapy session was daunting and made you rethink your job at Vought.

In short, you were interviewing a serial killer. Easily one of the most cruel and unhealthy.

"Good morning, Homelander." Your voice was soft, just like the smile you gave to the super who just sat on the couch.

"Good morning, Doctor." He returned the smile to you, but the smile on his own way: The corners of your mouth pulled to the side in a smile that you recognized as fake.

"So..." You put your hands on your knee, looking at him with the best receptive look you could pretend. There, in that office, your sessions with Homelander made you feel you deserved an Oscar "How was your week?"

“Well…” He lay down on the couch, his blue eyes staring at the ceiling, and his hands joined in front of his stomach “Nothing new. In fact, he had a little incident with Maeve. Sometimes she is so… pathetic. ”

"What happened?"

It took a while for Homelander to actually get some confidence in you. In fact, he only started telling you things in detail when he realized he could get something out of the sessions. They were productive to him, they made him think. You didn't know if you were thanking God for getting something out of him, or if you should cursing yourself because of the horrors he tells you.

"Maybe you saw something about the 37 Flight on the news."

"The one who had been captured by the terrorists?"

"Exactly! Maeve and I had to rescue the plane. We managed to take down the terrorists, but when I killed the last one, in the Pilot's cabin, I hit the plane's controls with the lasers. And then, the flight was doomed. I told Maeve that our job was done and we should leave, but she was reluctant. He wanted me to save the passengers! ” He laughed, but a natural one. "Can you believe that?"

Oh, it was going to be a long therapy session...

"And what happened next?"

“What did she want me to do? That I fly 137 times from the plane to land? Ah, pathetic, pathetic! ” He shook his head, clearly humorous. "Now, just imagine: You are on a flight with 137 people shouting 'Help, Homelander!', While your stupid partner insists that you should do something to save everyone. I was losing patience so I threatened everyone with my eyes, and they finally settled down. I don't blame them, I mean, they are so vulnerable. They are bugs! ” He looked at you, the corners of his mouth pulled in a fake smile. "No offense."

Homelander was a cold-blooded killer. Not only, but like Ted Bundy, he was a narcissist. He liked the feeling of power that invaded his body when he saw that people feared him, and when he felt that he had the power to decide whether that person would live or not. He didn't mind if killing people just for fun was against the law. Homelander didn't care about the law or any kind of rules. Furthermore, just as Bundy believed he was fully capable of defending himself in his court's judgment and did not need lawyers, Homelander thought he was an incarnate God walking among the 'bugs', simply because he had powers.

"And how do you feel about Maeve?"

“She bothered me a little with the drama on the plane, but that's okay. I am sure that after I spoke to the journalists, near the wreckage of the flight, she understood. This is all going to be an excellent opportunity to make our presence in the army happen. ”

A sociopath.

Empathetic behaviors aren't part of him. He was unable to have that feeling. Self-centered, Homelander was unable to love. The relationship he had with Stiwell, for example, was far from loving. He didn't feel it, quite the opposite: Homelander had a feeling of possession with her. She was his, and nobody else's.

A doubt hammered in your head: Homelander was intending to drop the plane? Your stomach was upset, you felt bad about that therapy session. How could Vought leave someone like him in The Seven?

The answer was simple: They didn't care. Homelander was profitable, and that was all that mattered.

That was one of the times when you thanked God that Homelander was self-centered enough to lie on the couch and just think about your own life, instead of analyzing you and realizing that you were completely terrified. It was as if a misstep, a wrong word, was going to cost his life.

And you would end that today.

You conducted the therapy session normally. In the end, you shook hands with Homelander as you always did and closed the door. Tears invaded your face as you thought of each life that was lost in vain on that flight, and, worse, you were sure that Maeve would tell you about the flight at her therapy session, early next week. In an attempt to calm down, you took some coffee and sat down in front of your MacBook. There, sipping coffee, you wrote your resignation letter.

Alright. You were free.

Or at least this was what you thought.

* * *

Another week has started, and the fact that you worked at Vought made you get a more comfortable office, in addition to increasing your service price. You were ending your day. Your last patient had left the office, and you were about to go home when you heard a familiar voice from your couch.

"I miss you in the tower."

Homelander looked at you with his pairs of sick blue eyes, his fake smile, and his murderous hands behind his body. He was standing next to the couch, and you felt your whole body freeze. A lump formed in your throat, and your hands vibrated in pure dread.

So he would kill you there? In your office?

Trying to take control of the situation, you faked a slight smile.

“Sorry, Homelander. I didn't saw you here. Need something?"

"Actually, I do." He started walking towards you slowly. "I didn't want to end our sessions, so I came to ask you what our new schedule is going to be."

You narrowed your eyes.

"I thought Vought was going to hire someone else to work with The Seven in my place."

“In fact, they put an incompetent in your place. I really prefer that we continue where we left off. ” He stopped in front of you with his smile, his eyes emanating pure insanity "I like our therapy sessions."

“I'm glad that you like my job and that you appreciate our results, Homelander” You gave him a smile, but inside you were still in pure dread “But I don't have appointments available. My schedule filled up easily after I came to this new office. ”

“Oh, but I'm sure you can fit me in your schedule. I can pay you well. ”

How to say no to Homelander without putting your life at risk?

You walked over to your tablet, on your desk. You took it in hand and slid your finger on the screen, analyzing awhile. You didn't need him to tell you that you would be paid well. In fact, you were fully aware of that. The point was that you could exchange all the money in the world to be at peace, without having to deal with Homelander. Without much choice, you concluded that you would reserve a single day for your therapy sessions with him. That way, your head wouldn't get so tired when you still had to deal with other patients.

“Are you available on Friday morning? At nine."

He nodded, giving the same smile he did when he achieved something. One of pure contentment.

"Of course!"

"Great so." You typed 'Homelander' in the space corresponding to the hour. You put the tablet down on the table, next to your MacBook “There, it's done. Friday, at nine in the morning. ”

“Ah, perfect! Thank you. Have a good night."

"Good night, Homelander."

He walked over to your balcony. With a jump, he flew through the sky. You lay on your couch, terrified. Would you never get rid of him?

All that was left for you now was to be the therapist of the incarnate Devil.

#the boys imagines #the boys imagine #the boys fics #the boys fanfics #the boys fanfic #the boys fanfiction #homelander x you #homelander x reader #homelander x y/n #homelander imagine #homelander imagines #homelander fics #homelander fanfics #homelander fanfic

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buglife · 3 years

Note

Frogs + king Quirrel /king ghost. (Sorry for the lack of direction I like you weird frog things)

Info about Hallownest Frogs -> Here

There was something on their face.

Ghost roused from the land of dreams, having just pruned some more nightmares from the collective minds of the kingdom. They had first noticed the pressure a short while ago. It quickly escalated into the feeling of cold wetness as something alive wriggled on the front of their built-in mask. It had got annoying very quickly, and they had decided to hasten their return to the waking world. The sight that greeted them wasn’t another prank by Tiso, a leak in the roof, or anything else.

It was a goddamned frog.

The fat little creature looked them dead in the eyes with their wall eyed stare and blinked slowly.

“Keroo.” It croaked softly. “Keroo.”

At least now, they were actually bigger than the frog. The first one they ever encountered was back when they were small, and the frog was nearly as big as they were. They had remembered poking it with their nail a few times, watching it inflate bigger and bigger in annoyance. Finally, it had one too many pokes and opened its fanged mouth to scream, which sent them running. Absolutely Terrifying. The sound they make when pissed is even enough to make a god shiver.

They were surprised to learn later that frogs were actually the pet of choice for many residents of Hallownest before the fall. They tended to be mild mannered and docile, until poked too many times. They had started seeing more of them after taking the throne, but those ones were on leashes and in the front cases of pet stores. They personally didn’t interact with them much.

The frog croaked again, and it was answered by many more, and it sounds like they were on the bed as well. Moving carefully, Ghost moved their arms out from under the covers to grasp the frog and lift it from their mask. It puffed up in annoyance, but thankfully didn’t start screaming. They turned their head to look at their spouse, and sighed.

Quirrel was still asleep, and also covered in frogs. They looked down to see many more, just resting in the covers and attempting to snuggle in near their legs and body. Ghost guessed that they were looking for warmth, and cuddles, as clearly these ones were friendly. They did not appreciate how the one in their hands started to wiggle, wanting to be put down. They did just that, and the frog crawled over to lay on their chest.

They reached over to shake their spouse, annoying more frogs as they climbed off Quirrel to snuggle next to him. Quirrel took a moment to awaken, as it was a little earlier than usual.

“Mmm….what’s the matter, dear?” He yawned widely, and was startled awake by a loud croak.

He sat up quickly, beholding the frogs that swarmed the bed. He looked at them, and then back to Ghost. “Love...why are there frogs in our bed?”

Being around them for so long has dulled their beloved pillbug’s sense of shock. He rolled right with the punches, and as far as they knew, waking up with a bed full of frogs was on the bottom of the list of distressing discoveries.

Ghost hummed and looked over the amphibians crowding around them. Now that both were awake, they were attempting to shove their way under any hand that was available, demanding attention. They looked clean and plump, so they weren’t strays that broke into the palace. Looking closer, they saw little bands on their arms, each in different colors. They sighed as the realization hit them.

“Hollow.”

------

Hollow was the happiest they have ever been. After years of therapy and love, they have decided what they wanted to do with their lives. Having the support of their siblings has been wonderful and being allowed to choose what they wanted to do was a very welcome feeling. They had wanted to be kind. All they have ever wanted to do, was to help. Even when the Pale King had convinced them that they were hollow, that feeling of wanting to help and protect were still strong.

They were now a proper knight, Hollow the Kind. No longer were they a tool, an ornamental piece designed to just stand there like a living statue. They were free to wander the kingdom and help, but today, they were in their room in the palace. They were often away, but they were happy to have their own room to decorate as they pleased. It ended up turning into a sanctuary with potted plants that lumaflies liked to gather on. They kept their window open, letting them in and out as they pleased. It tickled them so much that they would choose to visit, and they would sit and watch them flit about for hours.

It was a few days ago when they found a box of abandoned frogs and their young, pollywogs, left in the city of tears. The box was shut, so most likely someone got tired of the strays and decided to do something about it. They had taken the box, sneaking it past everyone, to take it to their room. They have been caring for them ever since, giving them attention and making them healthy again. Soon, they’ll be ready to be given away to new families and get their second chance in life.

Hollow knew all about second chances.

They had fed all the frogs and put them to bed on a nest on the floor, and then fell asleep. At least, they think that is what happened. They jolted awake in their armchair when they heard the voice of their twin in through the void.

“Sibling, are you awake?”

Hollow was awake now. They were family, but they were still their knight as well. Is there trouble? Anxiety shot through them and they shivered slightly.

“I am.” Hollow replied in turn, void rumbling within themselves as they grabbed their nail. “Are you in danger?”

“No. May I come in?”

Hollow chuffed. “Yes.”

They were not prepared when Ghost opened their door. Hollow was prepared to see them in any other way except covered in frogs. They needed all four arms to hold them, and the ones that did not fit were perched on their head and shoulders. Hollow looked at the frogs and then towards the nest where they were supposed to be. It was empty. They looked back and forth a few times and didn’t move when Ghost entered. Hollow watched them deposit all the frogs gently back into the nest, picking the ones off their head.

“They were in our bed.” Ghost continued. They didn’t sound angry, just amused.

Hollow shrank in on themselves. “I’m sorry, they must have gotten out, I fell asleep-”

“You are fine, my sibling.” Ghost had to reach up to put their hands on their shoulders. “I am not angry. I am happy that you are enjoying what you do, and that you are using your strength to help those who are weak.”

“However,” They continued, sweeping their eyes across the room. “Your heart has outgrown the space for you here.”

Hollow didn’t know what to think about that comment. Were they going to have to leave? Luckily their fears were quickly put to rest when Ghost continued.

“I believe we have extra funds in the royal treasury. How about we make plans together for an animal shelter? Surely you’ll have more room there and will have proper tools to use to rehabilitate them.” Hollow could hear the humor in their siblings voice as they gestured at the frogs now swarming in attempts to get on their bed. “Of course, if you don’t mind one more duty on top of the ones you have, I can only think of one person suitable to head it.”

Hollow wheezed happily and gripped their smaller sibling in a hug that would have smooshed a lesser bug. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Their void speech ran together as their joy didn’t allow for pause. Ghost chirped and hugged back, now happy that from now on, they are less likely to wake up with a creature on their face.

And that, is how the Gentle Giant Animal Shelter came to be.

#hollow knight #fanfic #my writing #terra lumina #ghost/quirrel #hollow #ghost #quirrel #ruler ghost #king quirrel #scholar king au #frogs #fluff #hollow sure does run an animal shelter and loves it #hollow is the type to have baby frogs in their pockets #hollow-kin

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alittlebitgoofy · 3 years

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cause after all this time (i’m still into you) - taywhora

so i finally finished this fic and it came out LONG for me but we got there and i'm very proud of it and happy to get more taywhora out so enjoy this domestic fluff roommates to lovers fic they're a bit dumb <3

thanks to pink-grapefruit-cafe for betaing :) love ya lottie

title from still into you

ao3 link

Before they were living together, A’whora thought Tayce to be flawless. Literally, where were the flaws? It wasn’t that she had any issues, far from it, but she had one vulnerability and she rarely showed it.

She was terrified of bugs. More specifically, spiders but any insect around her and A’whora could see the sense of unease in her eyes.

It took a screaming Tayce bolting into her room to take her eyes off her sewing machine. The noise made her jump, messing up a stitch in the action. Her roommate stared at her, eyes wide with a mix of fear and shock.

“A’whora! I went to get in the shower but there's a spider in there, can you please get rid of it.”

A’whora stared back blankly, shrugging before returning her attention to her work. As much as she wanted to help Tayce at any opportunity, her work held most of her attention at this time of day.

“Don’t ignore me, lass! Please, Aurora.” The pleading tone in her voice caught her off guard. A’whora frowned, she wasn’t keen on bugs but she could throw a shoe at a spider if it pleased Tayce. It helped that she was utterly adorable, nervously staying behind her as they walked to the bathroom to get rid of it.

“Fucking hell! It’s huge.” A’whora recoiled, she’d expected something stupid like a daddy -ong-legs but this spider was around the size of her hand. Staring it down made her feel nervous but the terrified Tayce muttering words of encouragement made her remembered what she was doing this for.

She held the shoe in her hand, whacking the creature with all the pent-up fury she had from years of repressed lesbianism. She hit it repeatedly for good measure, glancing over at Tayce to gauge her reaction before erupting in giggles at the shock on her face.

“Fuck, you look like you need therapy.”

“Don’t we all?”

A’whora glanced back at the mangled corpse of the bug, she cleared it up with some toilet roll to her disgust. Picking pieces of dead spider wasn’t her ideal Thursday afternoon activity but seeing the gratefulness of Tayce’s face made it worth it.

“Oh, you’re such a doll. Thanks ‘Rory you’re a lifesaver.” With the affectionate nickname, Tayce pressed her lips to A’whora’s cheek before heading off to prepare for her shower.

Oh. She enjoyed that a little too much.

---

Tayce was a private person by nature. She was fine with being expressive, it was something she couldn’t control. But she didn’t let people push past her boundaries. It had worked for a long time until A’whora came around and melted everything with a flutter of her lashes.

She’d never admit it, and risk boosting such an ego, but Tayce’s weakness was the rude blonde she lived with. Something about her felt comfortable. She was home, someone Tayce never felt a need to fake things around. If she wasn’t into a conversation or just wanted to be alone, A’whora understood. Sometimes she got lonely, it was something that went unspoken for months. Just the occasional day where Tayce was all over A’whora much to the latters annoyance.

For her part, A’whora never pushed her away. She’d whine a bit about not being able to do her work before returning the attention and trying to keep down a smile when Tayce would lay her head on her shoulder, quietly making her desires known before wrapping her arms around her waist to pull her into a long embrace.

You know. Normal friend stuff.

It happened to be one of those days, Tayce could feel herself going too far into her head. She needed someone next to her to take those thoughts away, but A’whora had been complaining about how busy she was for days. Tayce had barely seen her, and it hurt to think that she would shake her off if she went to find her.

She tried to reassure herself, this was ridiculous. She wasn’t dependent on her roommate. She had a life and friends, but something about being with A’whora soothed her to her core. The internal debate kept on, though her feet decided for her as Tayce realised she was stood outside the door of A’whora’s sewing room

She opened the door to see her roommate hunched over her sewing machine, brows furrowed as she concentrated hard on constructing the outfit. The creek of the door caught her attention, her eyes flying to Tayce stood in the doorway.

“You alright there lass?” A’whora looked the woman in front of her up and down. Something felt different but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Tayce walked over silently, perching her head on A’whora’s shoulder as her arms wrapped around her waist. They sat there, soundlessly embracing without much care for the world. A’whora was vaguely aware of the work in front of her but the warmth that Tayce radiated was intoxicating. She could never fight being held by her arms.

“Is today one of those days where you need attention?” Tayce let out a hum of agreement, not quite able to find the words to describe her feelings. A’whora understood enough, lightly pulling at her wrist and leading them to the couch. Her instinct was to reach for a comfort snack, grabbing the jar they kept of Percy Pigs for things like this.

Though she tried to ignore the growing feelings, she wasn’t against something happening between them.

That was an understatement, her heart stammered when A’whora turned to her with a small smile and shining eyes. The smaller girl had a resting bitch face, her natural state was sourer than most people could handle but Tayce never found her looking like that unless she was annoyed. When they were alone she was a different person, so much more sweet and loving than anyone else could know.

She envied how easily A’whora opened up to her, it took some time but she’d fully let Tayce in within a few months of living together. It’d been almost a year and a half and that was still something the brunette struggled with. She wanted to tell A’whora everything, about the loneliness and the way she felt unfulfilled despite her cool demeanour.

“Rory, can I tell you something?”

“Of course, you can tell me, anything babe.”

“You’re the only person who doesn’t make me feel alone.“ Tayce tried not to show hesitation in speaking her feelings, instead, leaning her head into A’whora’s shoulder. The warmth of her roommate was enough to distract from most things going on in her head. Though she loved the affection, A’whora realised it was a defence mechanism. If she couldn’t see a reaction then she wouldn’t have to deal with it. That was an interesting way to think but she wasn’t really in a position to judge.

“Tayce, if you ever feel alone, I’m here alright? We get each other better than anyone else. I’d never let someone I genuinely love feel like shit if I could help.”

Tayce let out a muffled sigh, moving her head to still lean into the blonde’s shoulder but be able to speak clearly.

“Someone you genuinely love huh?” Despite clearly being meant as a quip, Tayce’s voice was far too fond, dripping with so much affection it made A’whora’s heart swell. She was thankful Tayce couldn’t see her reaction from where her head was, she wouldn't live down the blush that took over her face from the comment.

“I love you too, don’t think too hard about it. I can feel you blushing.” Tayce laughed, poking her in the ribs to a delightful giggle from the smaller girl.

It amused her how they’d occasionally get like this, separate from the world stuck in the bliss of each other and yet not wanting to speak a word of their actual feelings. It was painfully obvious there was something between them. Lawrence loved to comment on the sexual tension but Tayce thought it ran deeper than that. There was so much comfort in their relationship, it didn’t make sense to most people.

From how flustered she got, A’whora had to have some kind of feelings for her. Tayce never wanted to pry, she liked where they were at.

Or she was scared to lose it and didn’t want to risk it on the off chance she read it all wrong.

A’whora saw the thoughtful look on Tayce’s face and wanted nothing more than to kiss it off. The timing felt wrong, another day they may have closed the gap but the emotions were too raw. It felt like she would take advantage of her roommate finally letting her feelings out.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. It was late by the time A’whora realised Tayce had fallen asleep, arms still tightly holding her. Moving would be cruel, seeing the taller woman so peaceful was rare. She enjoyed the warmth that Tayce always emitted, it always put her in a near euphoric, calm state. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep with her, content to cuddle like this for a long time.

---

Tayce felt groggy, noting where she was situated on the couch with A’whora in her arms before anything else. She realised they must have fallen asleep at some point, cuddled together in something heart-achingly domestic.

She grabbed her phone, realising it was almost 3 am and that her body would kill if she slept the night on a couch that was too small for her. It could just about fit A’whora when she reclined on it but Tayce’s feet always dangled over the edge uncomfortably.

She lightly tapped A’whora, who let out a sleepy murmur before placing her head back onto Tayce’s chest.

“Get up A’whora, we need to go to bed.”

The smaller girl hummed, finally sitting up. The sight of her rubbing her sleepy eyes was enough to make Tayce want to squeal. Maybe it was the tiredness but she just wanted to hold A’whora close to her until the end of time and hear her let out her little sleepy noises and cuddle into her chest.

The blonde stood up, about to walk to her room before Tayce tugged at her hand.

“No, with me.” Her words came out softer than she meant, her voice tender and tired. A’whora just nodded, letting Tayce lead them to her room and nestle into her bed.

The smaller girl poked her leg with a small laugh, eyes lighting up in amusement at the jeans still on her.

“Are you really going to sleep in jeans?” It took Tayce that long to realise she still had denim clung to her legs. The fatigue had gotten to her, brain too fuzzy to process it. Begrudgingly she got up, throwing some pajamas on, glad the darkness masked her body. She threw a shirt and short A’whora, muttering that she should get changed too.

The darkness wasn’t only hiding Tayce, her roommate held the clothes, sleepily blinking at them before she realised what was happening. She felt grateful that the blush on her face wasn’t visible, the feeling of Tayce’s clothes on her made A’whora’s heart tighten. Soft, little domestic moments that her roommate wouldn’t think about in a few minutes. They were what she cherished most.

The brunette made her way back to the bed, pulling the smaller girl into a tight hug before letting her head settle back onto her chest. She was slipping from consciousness but quietly hoped this wouldn’t be the last time something like this happened. She’d like to sleep next to A’whora more often.

The morning came quicker than either would have liked, wanting nothing more than to stay cuddled up but not ready for the implications that came with that. Tayce woke up first, nestling herself back into the warmth of her bed after attempting to move only to find a sleeping A’whora curled into her.

The blonde didn’t wake up as gracefully, she stirred shortly after but bolted up at the realisation of what had happened. Tayce wanted to put her head back down and cuddle more but the blush that erupted on the other woman's face told her all she needed to know.

“I asked you to, don’t start freaking out and apologising. It’s fine.”

A’whora shrugged, hiding her face in Tayce’s shoulder with a slight grumble. She wasn’t ready to deal with the day and gave in to the warmth the brunette provided.

They got up later, not thrilled to separate but knowing they needed to. The previous night left unspoken. Maybe that was better for now.

---

Though she was just as bad, Tayce found it hilarious how long A’whora took to get ready. It wasn’t because she took a long time doing everything. She just faffed around while getting ready and ended up taking an hour longer than she meant to.

The time wasn’t for nothing, A’whora finally came out of her room looking so beautiful it left Tayce speechless. Her outfit was nice, a black blazer and trousers. It wouldn’t be that amazing on anyone else but the way it fit around her curves made Tayce’s heart speed up. She looked hot, blonde hair in its natural wavy state that looked like it would be euphoric to run her hands through.

“Tayce? You’re awfully quiet there.”

“You look ethereal.”

A’whora looked taken aback by how sincere Tayce sounded. She would tell the smaller woman if something was off but seeing her speechless was something new. She must have done a damn good job.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, when aren’t you breathtaking though.”

“Little old me? Breathtaking? You’re too kind, Aurora.” Tayce played coy, batting her lashes with fake innocence as her roommate let out a soft laugh at the act. It was something she’d do all the time, but that never meant A’whora’s heart would stop fluttering every time she did it.

Taking another glance at her as they prepared to leave, Tayce wondered how she was going to get through a dinner with her notoriously teasing friends and A’whora looking like that. She could hear the remark Lawrence would make about their sexual tension, maybe a small comment from Tia about how, for her namesake, A’whora didn’t look like a whore. The usual fun things.

She’d make it through, somehow.

---

“Christ, Bims, I've never seen you so covered up.”

Tayce was greeted by the sight of a modest-looking Bimini sitting with a few of their other friends as she and A’whora made their way to the table. A modest outfit for them was just not having much skin out, though their legs were still out it was something different.

“Tayce, you look like a rich bitch who’s about to go kill her husband and run off with her new girlfriend. Speaking of the new girlfriend, hey A’whora.” Bimini shot back, the table erupting into laughter at the quip. Tayce glanced at the girl next to her, whose eyes had fallen to the floor trying to hide the blush quickly forming on her cheeks.

“Who me? That’s quite a high compliment. Though I wouldn’t trust this bitch to keep a secret like a murder plot when she can barely keep her mouth shut when someone wears something ugly.”

A’whora laughed at the comment, despite being unable to manage a reply. She huffed a bit, lightly jabbing Tayce with her elbow and praying it came across that she just didn’t care for the joke.

“Oh lord, we can’t go out for anything with these two without the sexual tension following them. How’s that been going for you ladies?” Lawrence interjected, getting another round of laughter from their friends.

“I’m just trying to look at this menu, you all are hounds, get your minds out of the gutter.”

“The only sexual tension Lawrence knows is watching Ellie with her Monster can,” A’whora paused, “and being jealous of the monster can.”

Tayce let out a howl of laughter that caught the attention of their table and the other people surrounding them. She didn’t care for the eyes on them. Her attention was on the blonde looking proud at her joke. There was something about the way A’whora would puff out her chest when she made someone laugh like that, she couldn’t take her eyes off her.

Ellie arrived soon after, utterly bewildered by the taken aback look on Lawrence’s face and the giggles coming from the rest of the table.

“What happened here?”

That was a hard question to answer. No one wanted to out Lawrence’s feelings, though there was nothing else to explain it. Bimini just shrugged, saying something about A’whora being surprisingly funny. Tayce didn’t pay them much attention, she felt a hand make its way onto her thigh. A’whora wasn’t looking at her but she could see the small smile creep its way onto her face as a hand came to rest on top of her own.

The night went pretty easy after that, jokes aplenty but no one paying too much attention to the way Tayce kept sneaking glances at A’whora or the way their hands hadn’t moved until they’d gotten their food and found their way back after.

Bimini had given her a curious look at some point, they clearly knew something but left it unspoken. Tayce didn’t know if she could handle another comment about them looking like a couple and the utterly flustered A’whora that would look to her to throw something back.

She’d have to get A’whora better at handling comments when she was flustered. It was cute how she lost the ability to speak if it was particularly bad, but the brunette hated to always be the one to deny things and keep the banter going.

---

Tayce felt light as A’whora leant against her, sat on a bench in the station waiting for the last train to bring them home. They’d both drunk a little too much, sober enough to walk and talk but minds fuzzy with the wine and a light fog of tiredness. The blonde had her head leant on her shoulder, trying to let her brain rest from attempting to stay social while progressively getting more drunk.

The wine did interesting things to her, it didn’t taste as bad as most alcohol though she still didn’t like it. Drinking enough left her floating, consciousness a little fuzzy but still attentive enough to navigate herself home. Her reaction times slowed, Tayce found this very amusing as she took a second to blink and realise she’d been tapped on the shoulder. It was cute to see the cogs whirring in her brain as things happened around her.

Tayce herself wasn’t near sober either. She could hold herself together better than A’whora but a much softer side of her came out with the wine they’d had with their meals. She wasn’t acting on it but seeing the fuzzy state of her roommate made her want to squeeze her into her arms and protect her from the world. A’whora was always cute but the curious glances she gave everything was enough to make anyone love her.

A’whora felt another poke on her shoulder, turning to see a laughing Tayce mimicking her confused expression before laughing harder.

“Bitch!” The smaller girl shoved her lightly, making Tayce fall into the arm of her chair mid laughter.

They progressively got a little more aggressive with their game. It started with Tayce pushing A'whora back, the latter scurrying off to avoid it before lightly shoving Tayce as she stood up to chase after her. Pushes were punctuated by uncontrolled giggles from the pair as they continued.

Tayce saw a chance to win, shoving A’whora into the wall behind them, leaving her pinned to it with Tayce in her face. She realised the implications of this but the pure look in A’whora’s eyes was enough to sway any doubt. She really was adorable.

Though it took a second to realise exactly where Tayce was and how close their faces were, A’whora moved her hand, running it through Tayce’s hair with a loving smile adorning her face. She leant into Tayce’s hand as it cupped her face, lightly inching their faces closer together until she could the warmth of her breath on her face. There was a slight smell of wine on Tayce’s breath but A’whora knew she had the same. It didn’t dissuade her as Tayce closed the gap, pressing their lips together in a kiss that had been a long time coming.

Things moved, they deepened the kiss, ignoring the world around them. The only thing that A’whora saw was Tayce, her beauty effortless and the loving side spilling out of her the longer they stayed that close.

Tayce jolted out of the kiss eventually, leaving a shocked A’whora frozen to her spot. Tayce grumbled something, whipping around to the train behind them and pulling A’whora in before she had time to blink.

The taller woman let out a sigh of relief as they managed to board just before the train left the station. She turned to the blonde to see her still staring at the door of the train, confused about how quickly everything had transpired.

Tayce pulled her to the seats on the train, sliding into the window seat to let A’whora lean on her. It was then she realised her hair had stayed soft and wavy, and finally listened to her heart and started running her hands through it. A giddy feeling built up as the smaller girl leant into it, such a soft smile on her face that Tayce just wanted to kiss her and get her to grin more and more.

So she did.

Tayce took her face up from its resting place on her shoulder to let them have another go at a long kiss without being interrupted by transport. A’whora leant into it, kissing Tayce back with her heart pounding in her chest.

They broke apart for breath, A’whora’s face in a smitten smile. Something in her eyes was the most tender thing Tayce had ever seen and it made her pull the girl into a tight hug.

“You’re so cute,” She mumbled into the top of A’whora’s head as she cuddled into Tayce.

They stayed entangled together until they had to get off, Tayce peppering A’whora with kisses as she smiled giddily and giggled at the rush of compliments Tayce would spout when they broke apart. It was messy and drunk but that made the feeling feel more sincere. It didn’t have to be perfect, to be kissing A’whora was enough for Tayce to feel like she was levitating.

A’whora was too distracted by the warmth of the taller woman to realise when they pulled into their stop. It took a light tug at her hand for them to get off, though A’whora wrapped her fingers around Tayce’s hand, refusing to let it go. They stayed hand in hand for the short walk home, the blonde was surprised she was walking fine but the cold evening air started to sober her enough to walk straight and navigate with Tayce rather than being pulled along.

Getting in was another matter, the door opened fine but the minute she walked through the door Tayce felt A’whora’s hand leave hers. She wanted to go tug on her hand once more, cuddling into each other in the warmth of her bed but something left her rooted to the floor, staring helplessly as her roommate walked into her room.

Or she would have, had she not noticed Tayce still stood in the doorway staring at her.

“Tayce? You just gonna stand there? At least make sure you take your makeup off.”

The sudden words made her jolt up, realising she was still fully dressed with a full face of makeup planning to faceplant into her bed. A’whora took the initiative to take the lead for once, leading the taller girl by hand into their bathroom and handing her some makeup wipes before getting to work on her face.

It proved to be a difficult task, Tayce leaning over to kiss her as she took it off and getting her lipstick on her cheek every time.

“Tayce! If you want to kiss me at least take your lipstick off first.”

“Oh so if I take it off I can kiss you as much as I want?”

“Yes just stop leaving lipstick on my face.”

Tayce turned to her with a sly grin, pressing her lips to her cheek once more but making sure to make a mess of it, placing softer kisses across her face with a giggle. The annoyance A’whora felt subsided with the quiet laughter that bubbled out of Tayce. She couldn’t be mad at anyone that cute.

Thankfully the brunette began to take off her makeup, focusing on that rather than pestering her roommate. It didn’t take long for the tables to turn, as A’whora turned to her after finishing with an unreadable expression.

“You’re so pretty. You’re so fucking pretty.” Her words sounded completely smitten, something Tayce was sober enough to notice but nowhere near brave enough to address.

“You think so? Like this? I wouldn’t call sitting in the bathroom tipsy with no makeup on my best moment” Tayce let out a soft hum, she felt pretty all of the time but of all the times to comment on it why now? Why while they were still tipsy and with her freshly taken off makeup, she didn’t feel particularly pretty, but the look in A’whora’s eyes said everything she needed to know.

“Yeah, I like your freckles,” A’whora said quietly, moving to place a soft kiss on Tayce’s cheek before making a daring dart for her lips.

It was different from before, they were both sober enough to know exactly what they were doing but neither wanted to stop it. Tayce wrapped her arms around A’whora’s shoulders to steady them as they deepened the kiss.

When they parted, A’whora let out a soft yawn, reminding Tayce of the time, and the fact they were both tired from everything. She picked up the smaller woman, carrying her over to her bed, throwing some pajamas at her, and cuddling into her when they both were changed out of their smart clothes.

Lying there with A’whora curled into her side was when she realised something. She’d avoided her feelings for this long, not reading into things. But being here with her felt so right. All the kisses and little compliments they’d thrown at each other over the night making them both feel warm and fuzzy inside.

She wanted this, to fall asleep next to the blonde and wake up to her, groggy with sleep and not wanting to get up just yet. She wanted them to stay in bed, cuddle up and maybe doze off and sleep more if the day allowed it.

She wanted A’whora. That was all Tayce needed.

The smaller girl hadn’t spoken a word since they cuddled up together, her breathing was quiet and rhythmic, she looked to be sleeping, so Tayce didn’t mind speaking her thoughts.

“I love you.”

A’whora didn’t respond at first, continuing to stay put in her spot in Tayce’s arm before she got a muffled reply.

“I love you too.”

---

Tayce felt her heart flutter at the sight before her when she awoke. A’whora was cuddled into her side, head laid on her chest with an arm flung over her stomach. Her leg followed suit, flopped over Tayce’s, locking her into a close position that she didn’t have the heart to disturb.

She wanted to soak in the warmth of the person cuddled with her but the sharp headache became more obvious the more she sat there. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to get pretty drunk on wine but it ended well enough. Her memories were fuzzy but she could make sense of it all. They’d kissed. A lot. Tayce wished she could feel the sensation sober but that carried too many implications for her hungover brain to handle.

There was one downside to sleeping next to A’whora, she was a light sleeper. Tayce knew the minute she tried to get up no matter how careful she was, the smaller woman would groan about it being too early and proceed to notice what had happened. She couldn’t find it in herself to deal with that right then and there but the throbbing in her head demanded her attention anyway.

Sliding her way out of A’whora’s grasp hurt. She wanted nothing more than to pull her in further, pepper her with soft kisses to wake her up, and stare at her adorable sleepy face.

Somehow Tayce had avoided waking her up, maybe the alcohol had taken a toll on her too. Whatever happened she’d complain about it soon enough, it would be for her own benefit if Tayce grabbed her a bottle of water with the painkillers she was getting.

A’whora started to wake up with Tayce out of the room. She felt like something was missing. Someone. Her tired mind couldn’t quite figure it out but the sound of someone walking into the room was enough to satisfy her, grabbing for the person as she sat on the bed.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Tayce murmured as A’whora leant over to go back to cuddling into her. She assumed the smaller girl was still asleep but the way she nuzzled into her chest and let out a muffled yawn.

“Rory?” Tayce felt her heart start to race. She was awake, she’d heard Tayce calling her cute and was making the conscious decision to stay cuddled into her.

Looks like she’d have to deal with this, no matter how prepared she was.

A’whora let out a hum of acknowledgement that Tayce felt vibrate into her chest. Her position was going to make any attempts at conversation a lot harder.

“Tayce? Cuddle me.” Finally letting out some words, the blonde curled up closer to her. Tayce felt her heart skip a beat as it came out as a muffled whine. Not a question, not the demand she might have meant it as, a quiet question that pulled at her heart that was followed with a sleepy sigh that melted it.

“I will, but you need to take these pain killers for me, this hangover will kill you when you wake up properly.”

Tayce laughed at the face A’whora pulled as she begrudgingly moved from her position to take them. She grumbled something incoherent before looking at Tayce with an unreadable expression in her eyes.

She leant over, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before going back to her place on Tayce’s chest.

A’whora kissed her like it was nothing. Was it something? Was Tayce overthinking it? Absolutely, but that wasn’t the point.

A’whora kissed her. Her roommate. The adorable little blonde was cuddled into her, having kissed her cheek like they were dating. It was too perfect, so domestic it was all she ever needed.

It only took a few more minutes for a soft grunt to come from her chest. A slight pout formed on A’whora’s lips and she muttered about a headache and lifted herself from the comfort of Tayce’s chest.

“Hey, Tayce?”

The brunette turned her attention at the call of her name, staring at A’whora who sat there silently. She stared back for some time before doing something a lot more daring than Tayce ever thought her capable of.

She kissed her again, this time on the lips. Tayce deepened it, one arm falling around A’whora’s waist while the other fell through her soft hair, keeping her close.

Her theory was right. Sober kisses were just as incredible as the drunk ones. The perk was that she’d remember this one.

“Good to know you like that, helpful information.” A’whora giggled, she delighted in the way Tayce’s eyes widened as she pressed another light kiss to her cheek. Her head felt fuzzy, whether that was from the hangover, the tiredness, or Tayce she couldn’t quite tell.

“You hound, You’re going to be chasing me for kisses every hour of every day now I just know it.” Tayce felt lightheaded at the affections. Something about the ease of it all made her stomach go fluttery with feelings she wouldn’t be too quick to disclose.

“That’s your fault for being so kissable. Not my fault.”

The cheek of her roommate was amusing, the brunette held back a snicker. She wanted to laugh it off, the flirting was fairly common between them. The kisses threw her. She just wanted to take a second, process everything that was happening before continuing but a certain blonde loved to keep her on her toes.

“You’re so dumb.”

Tayce could hear the tenderness in her tone, painfully loving and sappy. It would disgust her if she saw it in anyone else, that level of lovey was not something she wanted to hear. But it was A’whora. The little idiot who could brighten her day with a smile, the one who she bounced off of better than anyone. The person she would trust with her life. She couldn’t stop the way her heart pounded at the littlest affections between them.

So why should she?

“Cool it, lass, I know you love me.”

“Maybe so, wouldn’t you like that”

“Yeah. I'd like that a lot actually.”

“Aurora…” Tayce melted at the hopeful eyes staring at her. They broke through any walls she had left. She couldn’t find the words. She loved A’whora but saying it was something else entirely. So she showed it, pulling her in for a longer kiss.

A’whora felt all her feelings without the need for words. It was told through actions, the way Tayce’s hand ran through her hair, before circling to her jaw to stroke it softly, angling her into a deeper kiss. Her love was in the way their foreheads stayed pressed together as they fell apart. The shine in her eyes as her face lit up in an unconscious smile.

The way she let go, letting her love flow into everything and not trying to hide it.

“I love you too, Tayce.”

That was it, those were the words she’d wanted to hear for so long. It was a wave of warmth and euphoria that she never wanted to stop feeling.

“Come on, I love sitting here with you but I'm hungry and I think it’s time for beans on toast.”

Tayce finally moved, hanging her legs over the edge of the bed. If she didn’t attempt to move now they never would. Though she would come back later to cuddle up with A’whora for as long as she could, eating was important too.

“You’re insatiable! It’s always beans on toast with you.”

“If you act like that you won’t be getting any.”

With that, Tayce stood up and started walking to the kitchen only to be stopped by a sudden weight leant onto her back. A’whora laid her head on her shoulder with a content sigh.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The quick response surprised both of them. Tayce hadn’t expected it to come out so soon, it would still be time until she could say it with the ease A’whora did, but that was fine.

A’whora loved her, that was all she ever needed.

#taywhora #rpdr fanfiction #tayce #a'whora #awhora #this is so fucking fluffy god DAMN

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nothingcomparedtotheothers · 4 years

Text

Cryotherapy

I saw this prompt by @5am-the-foxing-hour and... well, here I am now... I tried... (sorry for any typos this may have)

Word Count: 2.123

TW: Blacking out, arguing, yelling, swearing (I think)

It started with an actually decent idea from Roman, surprisingly supported by Logan., which led to Virgil and Patton agreeing and somehow convincing Deceit and Remus to join them.

That’s how they got here. A building in The Imagination. They all needed it. Thomas had been stressed out, overthinking and anxious and it reflected on all of the sides.

They entered a room with what seemed to be six cabins around it. They all looked around, Deceit and Remus confused as they had no idea why they were asked to join the others.

“Okay, but how does this... crying therapy work?” Patton asked, looking at Logan as Roman snapped his fingers and left them all in nothing but shorts. Deceit, Virgil and Remus frowned at that but stayed quiet.

“Cryotherapy, Patton, is a cold therapy. We will enter these pods here and the cold will help us heal,” Logan explained. “So, is everyone-”

Before Logan could finish, Deceit spoke. “How cold, exactly?” he asked, looking at the Logical Side slightly tense, something no one seemed to notice.

Logan looked at him. “Below -148 degrees,” he answered, turning to the others before noticing the look of fear in Deceit’s eyes. “We will be in there for three to four minutes. Understood?” Everyone nodded. “I will stay out here to ensure that everything is alright,” he said. All the others went over to a pod, entering and starting the session.

It’s all going to be fine. It’s just for a few minutes. You can’t back down now after they’ve actually asked you to join. They won’t invite you again if you don’t do this. They won’t care anyway.

That was the only thing in Deceit’s mind as he entered the pod. He was terrified. But he had to stick around for the others to, at least, tolerate him.

With that, the nitrogen came out. A hiss threatened to come out as it hit him, quickly making his body temperature drop. It was excruciating. It was numbing. The cold pain numbed him quicker than it should’ve. First, he couldn’t feel his arms, wrapped around himself to try to keep some warmth. Anything. But nothing seemed to work as his knees buckled beneath his weight, forcing him to lean against one of the walls. Mistake. Next, it seemed like his entire body was shutting down quickly, something that had never happened before.

He glanced at his arms and saw some burns forming due to the cold. That was when his eyes began fluttering shut, attempting to force him into unconsciousness. He wasn’t going to give in. It was almost over. It had to be. Logan said three to four minutes... they had already almost passed... right...?

Just-

just a bit...

longer...

And, just like that, he collapsed.

A thud was heard from the outside and the other pods. Everyone immediately came out, looking at Logan for an explanation of what that thud was.

But Logan wasn’t the one to give an answer to their silent questions.

As if it’d been rehearsed, Virgil and Remus shot a look at each other, both wide-eyed. “Deceit...” Virgil muttered, rushing to his pod and opening it.

A hand flew to Patton and Roman’s mouth at the sight. How could that have happened? It was safe! Roman and Logan had made sure it was safe!

Logan went over and frowned, kneeling down. “Deceit?” he asked with the softest, least shocked tone he could muster. When there was no response, he sighed. “What happened?” he asked, turning to Virgil and Remus. “You two seem to know what’s wrong with him.”

Remus frowned. “He’s half-snake, you dork!” he nearly shouted, making Roman, Patton, and Virgil flinch.

Logan sighed. “Snakes are cold-blooded...” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need to warm him up before it gets worse,” he said before turning to Deceit again and noticing the burns. “That’s not good... Deceit?” he called again, a bit louder than before.

A quiet, almost inaudible whimper came in response and Logan smiled lightly. Deceit’s eyes slowly opened for a moment, meeting Logan’s before closing again.

“I... I may have a way to help,” Roman said quietly.

“You’ve already done enough, don’t you think?” Remus hissed, glaring at Roman darkly. Something no one had ever really seen. But it wasn’t like they’d seen Remus angry at all... ever.

“I’m not the one who grew up with him, you-” Roman shot back.

“Guys! Enough!” Virgil’s Tempest Tongue echoed in the room, shutting both Creative Sides up immediately.

“We’re listening, Roman,” Patton spoke softly, looking at the Princely Side. “What was your idea?”

“Well... I’m a prince. This is my kingdom- Remus, shut up or I’ll rip your face out with my sword,” he hissed as Remus went to interrupt him. “I, of course, have a castle. It’s not far. And we don’t have to walk there, I can get a horse or a carriage,” he offered. “There are fireplaces in the castle and plenty of blankets and pillows.”

Logan nodded. “That should do...” he said. “Get a carriage for us all so we can start warming him up on the way there.” He seemed so calm it made Virgil and Patton admire him even more than before. He wasn’t panicked like they all were. He wasn’t hesitant. Not even as he inched closer to Deceit and picked him up gently.

As soon as be was touched, a quiet noise escaped Deceit’s throat, curling up to Logan’s chest and sending shivers down the Logical Side’s spine at how cold he was.

Logan held him close to his chest, wanting to help him warm up in any way he could. He noticed that Deceit’s hair had bits of ice in it, bringing a frown to his face. Why hadn’t he said anything? Or Virgil and Remus? It would’ve avoided this from the very beginning.

Roman summoned a carriage pulled by four horses so that they’d go faster. He got in the carriage after the others and helped Logan get Deceit inside, who didn’t seem to want to leave the warmth of Logan’s chest.

Logan sat beside Roman with Deceit still curled up to his chest, and Roman began conjuring blankets and wrapping Deceit in them.

Another soft whimper left Deceit’s throat and his eyes fluttered open once again.

“Deceit. Hey, look at me,” Logan said as Deceit’s eyes began to close. “I need you to keep your eyes on me, okay? You’ll be alright.” Deceit hummed weakly in response and struggled to keep his eyes open as they got closer to the castle. “You’re doing really good, Deceit... keep it up,” he said.

Virgil and Remus kept sneaking worried glances at Deceit, wondering if he’d really be okay. Patton fiddled with his fingers nervously, not knowing what to do. Roman just kept conjuring blankets and wrapping them around Deceit, who was just now starting to shiver. Logan didn’t dare to move, not wanting to bother or startle Deceit, as he held him close to his chest.

“He’ll be okay,” a distant voice Deceit couldn’t pinpoint said. Then, he felt a warm cloth on his forehead. It felt heavenly if he was being honest.

“Are you sure?” a, still distant, but more panicked voice asked.

Deceit tried to say something, move, or even open his eyes. But he was freezing and he could feel unconsciousness tugging at him. What happened? Where was he? He was laying somewhere extremely comfortable. Probably a bed. But not his. His bed wasn’t as comfortable and his room wasn’t as warm...

A sigh was heard. “Yes, Virge. Roman, Patton and I are making sure of it, he’s in good hands,” the first voice said- who he now assumed was Logan. And Virgil was worried about him? Why? Whatever happened must’ve been bad...

He finally managed to open his eyes, fighting off unconsciousness. He looked around, wincing a bit as he moved his arm. That got Logan and Virgil’s attention and they turned to him.

Logan frowned lightly, walking over to him. “Deceit, how are you feeling?” he asked gently, pulling a blanket a bit further up to cover Deceit’s neck.

“C- cold...” As he said that, he shivered again, his teeth chattering a bit. He looked up at Logan, utterly confused. “What... what happened...?” he asked weakly.

Logan sighed. “We decided it would be a good idea to try cryotherapy... you know what that is?” Deceit nodded as much as he could manage and Logan proceeded. “We asked you and Remus to join us and you did. You all got in the cryopods and I stayed out to make sure everything went well... but you forgot to mention that you’re cold-blooded and collapsed in an almost hivernating state after less than a minute.” Deceit frowned, remembering everything up until that point. “You seemed to wake up a few times since we took you out of there and then blacked out on me.”

Deceit looked away for a moment, waiting for the dreaded question. He tried to come up with lies, which was useless in his state. Only making him zone out.

“... Deceit?” That snapped him out of his thoughts and he blinked in confusion, not having heard the question. “Why didn’t you tell us when we brought the therapy up?” Logan asked.

Deceit shrugged. “I’m tired...” he trailed off, trying to avoid the question. He looked at the door as it opened, revealing Roman.

“Oh- is it... not my turn yet? Am I early?” he asked, slightly taken aback by the fact that both Logan _and _Virgil were there.

Logan sighed. “No. You’re on time... try to warm him up, okay?” Logan asked, clearly concerned about Deceit’s wellbeing. Roman nodded as Logan and Virgil left.

Roman walked over to the bed and glanced at the fireplace, which didn’t seem to be doing much since the bed was too far from it. He turned to Deceit. “Hey, are you feeling warmer?” he asked gently as he sat on the bed, brushing Deceit’s bangs aside. He smiled lightly as Deceit leaned slightly into the touch.

Deceit shivered and nodded. “Y- yeah...” he trailed off.

Roman looked at all the blankets that sat at the end of the bed and all the pillows and smiled. “Don’t hate me for this,” he said, snapping his fingers, and making all the folded blankets and pillows suddenly form a pillow fort, right in front of the fireplace. “Come here...” he muttered, picking Deceit up, scooping him up from under the blankets and making him immediately cling onto him for warmth. “It’s okay. I’m taking you to a warmer spot.” He sat in the fort and laid Deceit down so his head was on his lap. “Wait.” He snapped his fingers again and Deceit was wearing fluffy black and yellow pajamas with his logo all over it. “Now you should feel better.” He smiled.

A low hum left Deceit’s throat and he hugged himself. “Warm...” he said, almost in a purr, curling up a bit.

Roman smiled and started playing with his hair, getting him to drift off without a fight or struggle. Deceit felt safe with Roman. He decided that the second before allowing himself to drift off.

After a bit, the door opened and Patton walked to them quietly. “I made you both some soup,” he said quietly, only above a whisper. He set the tray on a table and turned to leave.

“Hey, Pat...” Roman called just loud enough for Patton to hear him. “Get the others, I think he could use some group cuddles.” He smiled. Patton’s face lit up at that. “I’ll wake him up in the meantime.”

The sound of the fire crackling and Roman’s soft and gentle voice were the first things Deceit registered as he was slowly pulled back to reality.

“Deceit... wake up, you have cuddles awaiting you,” Roman said softly with a small smile. He ran a hand through Deceit’s hair careful not to scare him. “Oh, look. Logan’s here already.” He smiled as Logan walked into the room.

Deceit whined and opened his eyes, glancing at Logan and shifting a bit so he was half sitting and cuddling up to Roman.

Roman smiled and picked him up so he was sitting on his lap, letting Deceit cling onto him. Logan walked over and sat next to them.

Not long after, the other three came inside and cuddled up to them. Patton grabbed a blanket and put it over Deceit.

The instant relief they felt a couple of hours later was indescribable when Deceit uttered the words. “M’hot...” while he was half asleep, letting go of Roman’s neck and shifting a bit so he wasn’t as warm anymore.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #ts virgil #ts deceit #ts remus #ts patton #ts logan #ts roman #sympathetic deceit #platonic drlamp #sanders sides fanfiction #platonic roceit #platonic loceit #platonic anxceit #platonic moceit #platonic demus #Mimmy Stark Writes #mimmy stark fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Cause After All This Time, I'm Still Into You (Taywhora) - Winter

a/n: it’s been a lil while but i decided to start posting here again, i put this up on ao3 and my blog but i figure i’d cross post for the anons i saw wanting taywhora, hope y'all enjoy <3

thanks to pink-grapefruit-cafe for betaing :)

She was terrified of bugs. More specifically, spiders but any insect around her and A’whora could see the sense of unease in her eyes.

“A’whora! I went to get in the shower but there’s a spider in there, can you please get rid of it.”

A’whora stared back blankly, shrugging before returning her attention to her work. As much as she wanted to help Tayce at any opportunity, her work held most of her attention at this time of day.

“Fuck, you look like you need therapy.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Oh, you’re such a doll. Thanks ‘Rory you’re a lifesaver.” With the affectionate nickname, Tayce pressed her lips to A’whora’s cheek before heading off to prepare for her shower.

Oh. She enjoyed that a little too much.

—

You know. Normal friend stuff.

“You alright there lass?” A’whora looked the woman in front of her up and down. Something felt different but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Though she tried to ignore the growing feelings, she wasn’t against something happening between them.

“Rory, can I tell you something?”

“Of course, you can tell me, anything babe.”

“Tayce, if you ever feel alone, I’m here alright? We get each other better than anyone else. I’d never let someone I genuinely love feel like shit if I could help.”

Tayce let out a muffled sigh, moving her head to still lean into the blonde’s shoulder but be able to speak clearly.

“Someone you genuinely love huh?” Despite clearly being meant as a quip, Tayce’s voice was far too fond, dripping with so much affection it made A’whora’s heart swell. She was thankful Tayce couldn’t see her reaction from where her head was, she wouldn’t live down the blush that took over her face from the comment.

“I love you too, don’t think too hard about it. I can feel you blushing.” Tayce laughed, poking her in the ribs to a delightful giggle from the smaller girl.

From how flustered she got, A’whora had to have some kind of feelings for her. Tayce never wanted to pry, she liked where they were at.

Or she was scared to lose it and didn’t want to risk it on the off chance she read it all wrong.

—

She lightly tapped A’whora, who let out a sleepy murmur before placing her head back onto Tayce’s chest.

“Get up A’whora, we need to go to bed.”

The blonde stood up, about to walk to her room before Tayce tugged at her hand.

“No, with me.” Her words came out softer than she meant, her voice tender and tired. A’whora just nodded, letting Tayce lead them to her room and nestle into her bed.

The smaller girl poked her leg with a small laugh, eyes lighting up in amusement at the jeans still on her.

“I asked you to, don’t start freaking out and apologising. It’s fine.”

A’whora shrugged, hiding her face in Tayce’s shoulder with a slight grumble. She wasn’t ready to deal with the day and gave in to the warmth the brunette provided.

They got up later, not thrilled to separate but knowing they needed to. The previous night left unspoken. Maybe that was better for now.

—

“Tayce? You’re awfully quiet there.”

“You look ethereal.”

A’whora looked taken aback by how sincere Tayce sounded. She would tell the smaller woman if something was off but seeing her speechless was something new. She must have done a damn good job.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, when aren’t you breathtaking though.”

She’d make it through, somehow.

—

“Christ, Bims, I’ve never seen you so covered up.”