Yūhi Kurenai

rl is still a disaster and i don’t really feel like writing yet but i have a sensei frick house in the sims and i love them a lot

TITTY TUESDAY??

He’s exhausted himself, again, but not badly enough to warrant another trip to the hospital. She hopes. There’s not much the med nins would do differently than they would anyway- rest, observation. Kakashi wasn’t technically otherwise injured and was still aware enough to half walk himself back to her apartment (however supported between herself and Asuma he had been), to mumble explanations. 

Something about committing the newest Icha Icha novel to memory, losing track of time, and when did you get here?

If this doesn’t kill him, she very well might.

Kurenai... he smells like a wet dog. Our bed’s gonna smell like a wet dog.

Asuma. She tries, at least, to quietly scold him, because it’s not nice to kick a guy when he’s down (and delirious). But Kakashi is curled up between them, buried face first in her tits, and Asuma hasn’t bothered to hide his amusement from the moment they were tasked with taking care of him (again) and she is only so strong, finding it difficult to keep biting back her own.

It’s too much to ask, isn’t it, for even just five minutes without nonsense.

Kakashi deciding that the best way to answer a simple how are you feeling with broken incorrect lines from that stupid book is the tipping point for them both though- Asuma rolling over onto his back and laughing loudly (though he still manages to agree with the observation, somehow, before leaving her to handle this on her own, the traitor) and her hand pressing a little more firmly against the back of Kakashi’s head in some attempt to keep from jostling him too much when she finally gives in and starts laughing too.

-and wobbly, he corrects, the arm slung over her waist tightening it’s hold, his own attempt at keeping steady. 

That’s a fairly loaded question, given their line of work. And not one she’d be willing to share particulars on really- Kurenai grew up entrenched in war, pushed through the ranks along with her comrades because numbers were needed on the battlefield and giving thought to whether they should be there was a luxury Konoha couldn’t seem to afford. 

Plenty. She’s done plenty that haunts her, that makes her wonder whether she really holds as much humanity as she tries to convince herself she does. 

He is not her student but it’s rarely any sort of cut and dry thing, the kids seemingly seeking out information wherever they could get it and... well. Shikamaru doesn’t exactly have a familiar source to ask for advice from, anymore. 

It can still be a little overwhelming at times, the reality of just how vast her support system truly is, the impact that not only herself but Asuma, too, had made in the lives of others. 

Kurenai knows that her students are all thoughtful in their own ways- they are considerate and warm underneath the veil of shinobi, still so excited for the tiny little person they happily pass between themselves joining their cobbled together family. They are hers as much as she is theirs, drawn together by chance but fiercely protective of bonds forged.

She doesn’t rely on them because it is not appropriate, because it is not their place to take care of her, but each visit and shared meal (you shouldn’t have to worry about cooking sensei!) and genuine expression of fondness are the things that keep Kurenai standing. That bring warmth back into a home that could so easily be overtaken by the echoing grief that absence tries to foster.

She loves them dearly, her first children. 

“Look Mirai, Kiba tried to be sneaky.” And he had succeeded, mostly- casually moving through her apartment when he’d already mentioned he couldn’t stay long hadn’t been the stealthiest mission he’d ever completed, but the flowers themselves were still a surprise, bringing a small smile once spotted. 

Mirai is shifted more to one arm after Kurenai sits at the table, a way for her daughter to be propped up enough to look at the bright blooms as the note is reached for with a now free hand. Such a brief and quickly scrawled message, but something precious, touching in a way that she doesn’t bother to fight back because it is just the two of them now and Mirai is quite good at keeping her secrets.

“Hinata...”

It’s still difficult, sometimes, to not fall victim to just how sweet her students have been since they’d learned of Mirai, each time she is reminded of how much they care about both her and her daughter. 

She is a bit better at controlling her emotions these days but warmth still blooms in her chest at Hinata’s arrival, Kurenai taking a moment to bring the flowers up and inhale their soft scent- an attempt at collecting herself that only sort of works because she decides to simply give in this time instead, drawing Hinata in for a hug.