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peachesofteal · 9 months

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Dead Disco / Chapter 6

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.2k words - AO3 18+ Minors DNI. Explicit sex. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Praise kink. Darling is her own tag/warning. Angst, anxiety, relationship issues, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff. Lots of feelings. Established throuple. Pov switch. The guys propose a field trip.

The rain tonight is fitting.

It’s dreary, and sad, and if it was the middle of the day, the sky would be a soggy grey color, clouds full and punchy, waiting to burst open with their weight.

The drops against the window are the only sound outside of Simon’s voice in the flat, his affirms and negatives bouncing around the room wildly, looking for somewhere, anywhere to land.

He stares at his feet while he listens to his captain, counting the number of speckled flecks of dark wood in the floor. You won’t look at him, your eyes staring dully out the window, watching the rain drops. Holding your breath.

Johnny watches him like a hawk though, those sharp, too keen eyes honing in on every syllable, every variance of inflection. He keeps one arm around you, tethering you to his body, like a leash, a landline, a connection unbreakable.

“-not exactly sure yet, wanted to talk to ya first.” Simon nods. This may, quite possibly, be the absolute worst timing of their lives right now, but he’s unsure how to communicate that to the captain so he’ll understand. Price may not be entirely aware of their current predicament, but he does know about you, and he knows what it’s like to have someone at home, waiting. Wondering. Watching.

“We’re moving this comin’ week.” He grits out, teeth gnashed so tightly he thinks they might break. Johnny’s hand moves up and down your arm, his pace anxious, and quick, instead of something slow and soothing that may be more appropriate, or helpful, in this moment. He’s panicking. He’s panicking, and you’re staring out the window like you can see the future through the glass. Price says something, a remark about them getting a new place and Simon nods robotically. “Can I call you back, sir?”

“In the morning.” He answers, and Simon flexes his wrist before giving him another affirm and hanging up.

He folds himself next to you on the couch, one hand reaching for Johnny’s, the other pulling your focus by lightly tracing a line down your jaw.

“Darling.” He says and you face him fully, fresh tears in your eyes.

“So.” You rub your cheek, and inhale deeply. “When do you leave?”

“Yer thinkin’ about her.” Johnny grins, teeth split to reveal the flashes of pink and red inside his mouth. A delectable, delicious mouth that Simon wants nothing more to feel on him right now. On his own. On his skin. On his cock. “You been thinkin’ about ‘er?” He’s not wrong. Simon is thinking about you. He’s thinking about how he does wish you were here right now, in their bed, with them. He’s thinking about how you’re doing, if you’re feeling okay, if you’re thinking about them too. He’s thinking about how it would be, if he had both you and Johnny naked beneath him in this moment, your body wet and ready for them, your eyes wide with anticipation. But he’s not only thinking about you, too. He’s thinking about Johnny. He’s thinking about the way Johnny collapsed into bed this morning after they got home, but still couldn’t fall asleep until Simon was wrapped around him, pinning his body beneath his weight, safe. Secure. He’s thinking about Johnny earlier in the shower, his fingernails in Simon’s scalp, the warmth and shelter of his touch. He’s thinking about Johnny in the kitchen afterwards, naked save for a towel, water droplets streaking a course down his stomach that Simon followed with his tongue.

“I’m thinkin’ about you, MacTavish.” He paws at Johnny on the bed, rotating him by his hips so he lays belly down. “And I’m thinking about her.”

“We could call her.” He says dreamily, and Simon presses a thumb behind his knee, knocking his one leg out and to the side.

“We could.” He doesn’t say he wants to. He doesn’t know if he wants to. He doesn’t know how to handle this… thing, that has happened. To both of them. Doesn’t know what to do with you, the girl that suddenly appeared in their lives so easily, like you’ve always fit there.

It’s not like this would be easy. It’s not like it’s something they have experience with, either. Sure, they’ve brought additional partners to their bed in the past, but usually in passing, almost always to never be seen again.

Until you. Until you became a “second time thing” and then a third, and then a fourth. Until they were calling you last month, home from an op and wondering about you, thinking about you, talking about you, like they are now.

You… you would be, you are, different. Something new. Something fragile. Something theirs.

Simon shoves it all down, packs it away for another time.

They could get hurt. You could get hurt. Everything could go wrong.

Johnny wiggles in front of him, rising up on his knees, back arched while he watches over his shoulder. The curve of his spine, swell of his ass sitting just so, right and perfect, ready for the taking. Ready for Simon. He ghosts his touch across his skin, smirking when Johnny draws a hot, sharp breath. His cock swells, already heavy with desire, desperate for Johnny.

He presses a finger against his already slick rim, prepped with lube moments ago, and feels how Johnny twitches for him before pushing through, crooking it just so, just right that Johnny sputters, all logical thoughts emptying from his brain.

“There it is.” Simon’s voice is low, dangerous, and it drives Johnny farther into a different headspace, the one that he desperately needs every now and then, the one that only Simon can give him. He strokes along the spot, and Johnny pulses with electricity, fully trembling beneath him. It’s a lovely sight for Simon, truly one of the sweetest things he’s seen, and he runs a thumbnail down the center of Johnny’s cock, just to tease him that much more.

“Simon.” He whines, voice breathy and full of need, sitting on the cusp of shattering.

“Hush. Need you ta be a good boy for me.” He admonishes, but reassures him with his touch, rubbing a hand up and down his spine before tracing a finger back down to his arse, where the tight ring of muscle waits. His Johnny, smart, gorgeous, deadly, perfect Johnny. His sweet, good boy. He strokes his cock languidly, watching his Sergeant squirm before he presses the crown of his cock to where he waits, his body worked open in the last hour while Johnny drooled on his cock, and Simon stretched him around his fingers.

Johnny chokes when he pushes into him, his chest heaving for air and Simon smiles, taking his time, enjoying the thrum of Johnny’s muscles around his cock, grinding deep once he’s fully seated.

“Fuck!” he yelps, and Simon folds himself forward, hand knotting into the mohawk, mouth kissing along the skin of his shoulder.

“That’s it.” He croons, flexing his hips, thrusting in tiny, micro movements that makes Johnny’s skin slick with sweat. “That’s good, Johnny, so, so good. Openin’ up so nice for me.” His cock throbs, an involuntary shiver working its way up and down his spine while Johnny moans into the pillow. He’s beautiful, and Simon can’t not stare him, the flush of his skin, the color of his eyes, the way his tongue darts forward to lick his lips. So, so beautiful. And so, so utterly Simon’s. He thrusts harder, faster, skin slapping against skin until Johnny is crying so beautifully, groans falling from his lips while Simon splits him open on his cock. "My sweet, good boy. Takin' me like you were made for it." He grunts between thrusts, and Johnny keens.

Johnny’s hand flails wildly at his side, seeking purchase across the sheets, and Simon grabs it, snaking his own under his chest and pulling him upwards until his back is nearly pressed against his chest, spine curved and jaw slack.

“I love you.” Simon murmurs in his ear, holding both of them completely still. “I love you, MacTavish. You’re mine.” He finds Johnny’s cock and strokes, hand already slick, and Johnny practically purrs in response, clenching around Simon, his body trying to draw Simon’s orgasm from him while Simon pulls Johnny towards his.

“Yours.” He gasps in response. “All- shite- you, Si. You.”

“Come for me, Johnny. Come on.” The encouragement is all it takes before Johnny’s tensing and then spilling all over Simon’s fist, his voice pitching deeper when he shouts his name.

Simon pushes him back down onto the bed, arcing up over his body, fucking into him wildly, chasing his own end, his burning desire to fill him up with his come, mark him with everything he has, drowning him in his own orgasm. His Johnny. His, his, his- it’s all he thinks about when he pushes deep, the angle causing Johnny to cry out, and then he comes, sealing his hips to the swell of Johnny’s while he lets his cock leak every drop into his body.

He cuddles Johnny close, breath fawning over his ear, one hand intertwined with his while he strokes his hair from his face, palm smoothing over his forehead and back in a repeated motion. He’s sweet, and sated, and limp in Simon’s arms, mouth gapped open while he slips in and out of twilight sleep. Simon’s nearly there too, brain carefully shutting down piece by piece until Johnny tenses, the muscles in his arms and back going rigid, signaling that he’s awake, and he’s thinking. Or worrying.

“What is it?” He whispers, eyes still closed.

“What if she misses us too?” Johnny whispers. “What if she needs us?” Simon sighs.

“I don’t know, love.” He kisses his shoulder and holds him tight. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s not think about it until the morning.” You mumble, voice fatigued with exhaustion. “I don’t want to think about it… right now.” He can feel Johnny’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t return his gaze, instead keeping his own on you in this moment. You’re too aware, too observant, and you’d pick up on it. You always know when they’re exchanging glances, glances that communicate so much, and it never surprises, or frustrates him, when you grow exasperated with it, with them. They should be better about it, for you. He should be better.

“You sure?” Johnny hums, his fingertips lightly caressing your belly before stroking across your ribs and up to cradle your face. His eyes catalogue you, noticing and tallying the same things Simon has. Your exhaustion. Your anxiety. The toll the past few weeks have taken on you. Their fault, the toll that this relationship has taken on you is completely their fault. He suddenly feels like he’s swallowed a stone’s worth of hot rocks. “You’re so tired, darling girl.” Johnny fusses, and you nod sleepily, turning onto your side, waggling your fingers behind your back, the signal that you want your preferred sleeping position; Johnny curled behind you, his chest pressed to your back, and Simon partially underneath you, your ear pressed to his heart. You always hold Johnny’s hand, resting it across Simon’s abdomen, where he folds his own atop the two of yours. Your legs tangle together, and Johnny normally scratches Simon’s head before he falls asleep, something he’s carried home from ops, a self-soothing mechanism for both of them. It works differently, in the field, because they don’t normally sleep together and they’re always missing you, the lost puzzle piece in their mess of a life, but Johnny always somehow finds the time to sit or stand or lay near Simon at night, sneakily running his hands through his hair for a few moments before disappearing off to bed.

They always have each other, even when they’re across the world.

And you’re always the one left behind.

Every time. You’re left here alone. It’s not like they call, or text, or even email. It’s not like you even know when to expect them back half the time.

His chest feels tight. His body feels cold. You never asked for this. How is this fair to you?

A chilling thought creeps into his mind. Would you have been better off, if they had left you alone? Would you be happier?

“Simon?” you whisper, and he shifts, tilting his chin downwards to where you’re peering up at him. “You… okay? Your heart is beating really fast.” Johnny moves, just slightly so he can look over, and Simon swallows. It’s dry, but he does it anyway. Doesn’t know what else to do.

“I’m alright, knackered though.” You sigh, pressing a kiss to his chest, just above the jagged line of a scar, and he pulls you in tighter, shifting so that his body cages you in against Johnny’s.

“Goodnight… I love you.” You mumble sleepily, the words meant for both of them, and Johnny kisses you tenderly behind the ear, while Simon leans down to brush his lips across the top of your head.

“Love you.” Johnny whispers, eyes slipping shut.

“Love you.” Simon is the last, as always, selfishly collecting both admissions and holding them close to his heart, where he replays them over and over, hands flexing against both of your bodies until he’s falling asleep, the two of you safe in his arms.

“We’ll be fine.” “Ah know, but...” Johnny trails off, eyes tracking to the closed bathroom door where the shower is running. “You’re recovering, and she’s… something’s goin on, Si.” He shifts his weight onto the crutch and leans forward, wrapping Johnny up with his free arm as well as he can before pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m fine. Price needs ya.”

“Dinnae like leaving either of you.” He snaps, pulling away, while Simon rubs an exasperated hand over his face. “I’ll miss ya two, too bloody much.” He’s being reluctantly pulled away while Simon’s on medical leave, still healing from his last brutal bout of injuries that landed him on a med-evac and emergency surgery nearly a month ago, and he’s less than pleased.

But when the 141 calls, they answer. And since Simon can’t, Johnny must.

“We’ll miss you too.”

“And ah am worried, ‘bout her.”

“I know.” Simon doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t need too, but he’s worried too. You’ve been off kilter since he came home, quiet and more to yourself than usual. You spend a lot of time fussing over him, making sure he’s comfortable, asking if he needs pain meds, worrying about how he’s feeling, but he’s fairly sure you’re using it to cover up something else that’s going on with you, something murky that’s brewing in your mind.

Johnny frowns, like he’s had a thought, and then motions to the bathroom. Simon counts the minutes in his head.

It's been a bit too long.

They push the door open, expecting to find it full of steam, the room usually too warm and fogged over from your showers, the scalding temperature that you prefer your water to be enough to peel the skin from their bones if they stood beneath it too long.

Instead, the bathroom is cold. Clinical. Unwelcoming.

They can see you, beyond the blur of the glass shower door, sitting on the ground, knees to your chin. Your hair is wet, even though it’s not close to being a wash day, that fact alone sending unease prickling up his spine, and he rips the shower door open as soon as he crosses, hobbles, across the room on the crutch.

“Darling?” He calls, looking down at where you sit against the tile.

You sigh. Long, loud. Heavy.

“Yeah.” You whisper and Johnny reaches inside, hand under the water as he chokes on his breath, the temperature cold enough to startle him.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses and reaches past Simon to twist the knobs to off. When you don’t move, don’t look up at them, Simon feels his heart crack. What is going on with you?

“Get a towel.” He instructs, while leaning over, still supporting his weight on the crutch, and grabbing you by your upper arm. “Come on darling, up you get.” You don’t fight, your body near lifeless as he pulls you to stand, and then drags you closer, nestling you against his chest.

“Your stitches.” You mumble a protest into his skin, while Johnny drapes a towel around your shoulders. “We’re not worried about my stitches right now, love.” He strokes your cheek, smoothing a thumb under your eye while you avoid looking at either of them. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” You mutter.

“You were sitting in an ice-cold shower.” Johnny counters, and you shrug.

Avoidance. Nerves tighten in Simon’s gut.

“And yer hair is wet.” He murmurs, rubbing behind your neck, soft little circles meant to relax you, while Johnny works another towel on your ends, before drying you off below the waist. When you don’t say anything, he feels his composure start to fall apart. “Darling, please, tell us what’s going on. You’ve been like this for over a week. We’re worried, we’re-“

“Married?” you cut him off and he jerks back in surprise.

“Who told you that?” He keeps his voice very even, very calm. No wonder you’ve been so shut down. He’s going to kill Price. He’s going to kill Gaz.

He’s momentarily distracted by his anger, it’s gnawing rage building in the back of his throat, that he almost doesn’t recognize Johnny’s voice when he croaks;

“I did.”

“Should ‘ave told me, darling.” They’ve finally convinced you to lay down with them, mid conversation, so they can hold you while they talk. It helps quiet some of the shrieking in Simon’s head, some of the panic and fear that’s running under the surface of the river that rips through him in this moment.

“It felt… wrong. To be so worried about it, when Simon was in the hospital.” You sniffle, and Johnny shushes you, trying to soothe the frazzled tears that leak from your eyes. Simon watches warily from the opposite side.

“We’re not married.” He tells you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, where it certainly will not stay. “But the 141, and it’s bosses, thinks we are. We don’t correct them.” Your face twists up in confusion, and he sighs. “The base, that we fly in and out of… we have a room there. Sometimes we have to stay a day, or two, for after action reports. We don’t like to be separated so Price has worked it out so we can share.”

“The only way that can happen is if we’re married…” Johnny supplies, trying to be helpful, but Simon can see how your face clouds. How it darkens, and the anxiety, the confusion mars it.

“Which we’re not. But Price helps us, has made it so his boss, and others, think we’re married, so we can stay together.”

“We’re next of kin, on each other’s papers as well. It all allows us privileges, like at hospital.” Johnny tries to explain, bringing it back to the earlier admission, when he explained how he had told the surgeon they were married, and he was next of kin if any decisions needed to be made.

“So, pretty much you are married. Just without the certificate.” Simon winces.

“No, love. It’s not like that, it’s-“

“Everyone thinks you’re married. Their perception is reality when you’re at work. Or anywhere else... and you’re each other’s next of kin.”

“No.” Simon vows, but it doesn’t matter, you’re already pushing away, working yourself free from the tangle of them, shimmying off the bed. “Wait, listen-“

“No.” you repeat his denial back to him, and they both watch wordlessly as you yank a t shirt over your head, before sliding on a pair of leggings and slipping into sandals.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Out. For a walk… I can’t be here right now.”

“Stop.” Johnny pleads. “Stop, please. Just let us explain.”

“I think you have.” You quip over your shoulder. Simon’s out of bed now too, hot on your heels but you’re too fast for him on the crutch, and you’re already at the front door by the time he’s reaching for you.

“Darling.” He breathes, and when you turn, he sees the pain in your eyes, the fractured sense of security, the shattering of your heart, that one thing that they were supposed to keep whole. The thing they were supposed to protect.

Johnny calls your name from a few meters behind him, pleading. "Darling, please, don't run from us."

“I need some air.” You whisper it to your feet, and then before either of them can say anything else, the front door is slamming in his face.

“Fuck!” He shouts, at nothing. At the ceiling. At their own stupidity. “Fuck.”

It’s the twitching, that has Simon’s eyes opening wide in the middle of the night. He can feel your body, restless, rocking against him, your breathing sharp and hurried. He knows what it is within a second, knows what monster has crawled into their bed and invaded your dreams. A nightmare. A symbol of the true state of your mind slipping through the cracks of your subconscious. It’s a barometer, and his heart sinks a little while he shakes his sleepy eyes open. “Darling.” He whispers, smoothing a hand past your cheek to stroke some of your hair. Johnny sleeps soundly, still cradling you from behind, unmoved by your shuddering. He sleeps like a rock when home, safe and sound, comforted by the knowledge that all three of you are together. Simon usually gets close to that sense of safety, that feeling of security, but the vigilance, the undercurrent of fear, still simmers in his blood. It always will, if you and Johnny are around. It is the price of being in love, he supposes.

The price of having it all, comes with the fear of losing everything.

However, it comes in handy, in moments like these, when you’re trapped in your own dreams, trapped inside your own head.

You whimper, the noise twisted and scared, and he tightens his grip, not firm enough to hurt, but enough to hold you still while you lurch.

“Wake up, love. C’mon.” He speaks a little louder now, enough to wake Johnny, who flinches in his sleep before blinking his eyes wide. Simon watches how his free arm tenses, like he means to swing, before relaxing his muscles and meeting Simon’s gaze.

You cry, a dismayed sob reverberating through the two of them, and Johnny wraps his arm around Simon’s back, sandwiching you beneath them tightly. You pant against Simon’s skin, and he uses the hand that’s snug between your spine and Johnny’s chest to rub your back, easing you as gently as possible, while Johnny whispers above your ear.

“You’re alright, darling. You’re okay. You’re home, with us. Right here.” You’re still crying, still asleep, and Johnny frowns. Usually once you’re pressed between them, your nervous system soothes itself, and you wake easily. A little distressed at times, but not crying or thrashing like you are when the nightmares begin.

“Shhh.” Simon tries, and he squeezes the nape of your neck, not hard, but firmly, enough to apply pressure at the base of your skull. It’s worked in the past, when you’ve been lost in a night terror, or awake but too deep in your mind, entrenched in your own horrors, stuck in the dark cycles of your own brain. The pressure is effective, and he’s not sure why, but it settles you easily in most moments, grounding you, bringing you back to them. Where you belong.

It does the trick. You’re blinking awake in the next moment, face foggy with sleep, eyes heavy and confused.

“There she is.” Johnny hums, and you take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs with as much air as possible. “That’s it. Just breathe.”

“S-sorry.” You weep, voice wet and syrupy, sticky with your pain, with whatever hell was filling your dreams.

“It’s alright.” Simon assures you Johnny shifts, moving to sit up, and your hand grasps for him wildly, seeking his touch. When he grabs it, you settle, and he rubs a thumb across your knuckles.

“Chamomile?” He asks you gently, and you nod into Simon. “Be right back.” He brushes a sweet kiss across your cheek, and then onto Simon’s before sliding out of the bed while you sigh forcefully.

“Want to tell me?” Simon tries to probe, without pushing you too hard. You’re still half asleep, so when you give him a wispy no, he doesn’t push. There’ll be plenty of time later. “Okay darling, that’s alright.” He assures, and your eyes slowly slip closed while he lays there, not moving a single muscle.

The kitchen light flicks on, and Simon blinks to adjust before the dimmer switch is lowered, the light echo of your tip toes sliding across the floor to where he sits at the counter, hunched over a lukewarm cup of tea.

“Can’t sleep?” you hoist yourself onto the stool next to him, Johnny’s t shirt just coving your hips, hair twirled up like you’ve been in a wind tunnel. “Or bad dream?”

“Can’t sleep.” He answers, and you make a sympathetic noise in your throat while you touch his mug.

“Want me to make you a fresh one?”

“No, that’s alright darling. You can go back to bed.” He knows you must be bone tired, between the last few days since they’ve been home and the two weeks before that, when they were gone, you haven’t been getting much sleep.

“Can’t sleep either.” You whisper in the dark, words glum. He glances at the clock. 0207.

“You need your rest.” He tries to encourage, and can make out the squint of glare on your face.

“So do you.”

“Aye, the two of ‘e need your rest.” Johnny quips from the hall, and you turn to see him padding towards the kitchen, pajama pants slung low on his hips. He settles between your bodies, pressing against each outward thigh, before sighing, and resting his head on Simon’s shoulder. “Just leaving me in bed all alone then?” He pulls your hand into his, brushing his lips across your skin and clucking his tongue with sympathy. “How about we all lay on the couch?” Simon perks up a bit at that, knowing that having something on the television will ultimately lull him back to sleep, and probably you as well.

“Okay.” You agree, hopping off the stool and practically into Johnny before dragging him towards the living room. “But, I pick.”

“You picked earlier.” Johnny huffs and Simon rolls his eyes.

“’s true love, you did pick earlier.” You grumble something under your breath while you get situated on the couch, flexing yourself between him and Johnny, bending and stretching until you’re comfortable, and sandwiched, against them as always. Your face nestles in Johnny’s neck while he flick through the options, and Simon strokes a hand lovingly over your hip.

“This is nice.” You whisper, and he’s not sure if you’re speaking to him, or Johnny, or just yourself. He’s not sure if you’re talking about being together on the couch, or being together after they’ve returned home, or just being together as the three of you are, in life. In everything.

He agrees anyway.

“Yes, darling. It is.”

It’s still raining, when the morning comes. It’s something you note, miserably, when your eyes blink open and you realize the bed is empty, nearly cold on both sides.

It’s still raining, and the bed is empty.

Your head feels heavy, tired, from your restless sleep, exasperated from the nightmare, a small headache beginning to bloom and spread behind your eyes. Great.

You roll, burrowing into a pillow, breathing the scent left on the sheets as deeply as possible before the smell of coffee hits your nose, it's caramel, roasted flavor wafting under the door from the kitchen, and your toes practically curl against the sheets.

When the door swings open, you prop yourself up on your elbows to see them both, standing hesitantly near the end of the bed.

“Good… morning?” You leave the end with a question, a wondering, while Johnny steps onto the mattress with his knees and snakes an arm around your waist. He pulls you backwards, into his chest, safe and secure, but still sitting up, and Simon perches on the edge, cup of coffee waiting in his outstretched hand. “Thanks.” He presses it into your grip, and you smile at them, a little anxious. “What uh. What’s up?”

“We wanted to ask you, if you’d be keen on a little field trip.” Johnny nuzzles your neck, mumbling the words into your skin. A field trip?

"We were hoping to bring you on base with us, during this next op.” Simon tries to explain when you frown. Your eyes widen, lips hovering above the coffee.

“To base?” You take a sip and immediately wince, drawing away from the steaming liquid. Simon takes it from you, depositing it on the bed side table before taking your hands in his.

“Yes. We’ve spoke to Price this morning, and he’s agreed to allow you to stay on base, in our room, if you'd like to come along.” On base. Go… on base. And stay in their room. A million emotions circle your heart in a quick pattern. But a few thoughts stand out the most.

They want to bring you with them. They don’t want to leave you behind.

“Okay.” You don’t need to think about it, your answer was already known by everyone in the bedroom. This is the first time they’ve ever offered to bring you to base, to include you in this way, and your heart trills in your chest. “Yeah.” You reaffirm, before a small, hopeful smile tugs at your lips. Simon cups a hand around your knee.

“Unfortunately, this won’t be like a vacation. You’ll have to stay close, and when we’re not with you, you won't be able to leave base.”

“That’s okay… I have my kindle. And I’m sure I’ll have work to do.” Your boss has been pushing you to take more time off anyway, right? You could totally swing this.

“And you can wait, for us to get back if you want.” Johnny follows up, gently. You know he doesn’t really want to talk about how they’re leaving again, and you still haven’t gotten the details.

“Yeah… how long-“

“It will be short.” Simon answers tersely. “Three, four days at the most, that’s why you can stay.” Four days? That’s like, more than short. That’s almost nothing. But Johnny nods against you, and you don’t question it. It’s not really your place, and you try not to pry regarding the ops.

“It’ll be nice, havin’ you in the hangar when we land.” Johnny murmurs and your skin heats, realizing you’ll get to be there to say goodbye and welcome back.

You’re silent, while you consider it, and the implications, something about this invitation soothing the wildness in your heart, like a balm to the wound that’s been bleeding out inside of you.

“Darling?” Simon finally rumbles, after you sat in silence for probably too long, and you nod.

“I’m here.”

968 notes · View notes

hawnks · 6 months

Text

Alpha!Nanami/Omega!reader

Word count: ~2,800

warnings: a/b/o typical sexism, abuse of authority (from side character), mention of leg injury

……………………………………………………….

He brings the storm with him.

You learn him in whispers, along with a bevy of myth and rumor. He drifted here from the East. His clothing has been mended at least a dozen times, but his shoes are sturdy, expertly crafted. He makes no noise when he walks — hardly any noise at all. Rōnin, not samurai. And you can’t trust a man with no honor.

He killed his old master, I heard.

No, he was exiled.

Maybe he killed his master because he was exiled.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow once the rain lets up,” the innkeeper says, cutting off all further speculation. “Now, mind your work, not the guests.”

Beside you, someone grouses, “He chose a funny season to wander, if he’s afraid of the weather.”

…

The rain does not let up.

It puts everyone in a sour mood. The streets turn viscous and tacky, the air brutally cool. You draw the short straw, sent to fetch the days meat in the early morning, a long trek to the fishmonger that leaves you drenched down to your underwear.

It takes twice as long as usual — you lose your sandal a few times in the muck — and when you arrive the stand is vacant. The old man had come down with pneumonia.

Frustrated, you take the long way home. They can wait for the bad news, and you’re so soaked a few extra minutes won’t make any difference. You catch the eye of a few of the daimyō’s men, leering at you from beneath awnings, snickering as you walk by.

“Wanna hear a joke about wet omegas?” one of them calls to you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

You deliver the news about the fish to the innkeeper at the door to her room, so you can dart out again before she has a chance to say anything. God forbid she sends you out on another errand.

Soaking, furious, you change into your uniform, and begin your shift at the tavern.

The work is tedious, but decently lucrative. You like to talk to travelers, learn what’s happening beyond the boundaries of your town. It’s hard to put into words what you get out of this, hoarding information like you’re starved for it. Maybe the sheer notion that there is someplace else. That this town and its people are not the only things in the world.

The comfort of knowing away is still possible.

You expect to ask the rōnin the same, starry eyed questions, regardless of how the other server is avoiding him. It might even be enough to salvage this shitty morning.

But you don’t get a chance to ask him where he’s from, what he’s seen. You open your mouth to say something, and choke on air thick with the scent of wisteria.

He meets your gaze.

He won’t look away.

Your wet hair drips on his table.

You can’t feel your fingertips.

Shoving yourself away from the table so hard it rattles against the floor, you excuse yourself in a mumbled tumult. You recruit the other server to take over your tables for the rest of the morning. You must look as awful as you feel, because she doesn’t even question it as you retreat back to your room, throw yourself under the quilt. Close your eyes and pray for your heart to settle.

The one thing the gossip didn’t prepare you for — an alpha.

…

Another day of storms. Another morning you draw the short straw.

Another day you limp home through the mud, empty handed.

The soldiers don’t leer today. Instead, the daimyō is waiting for you. It feels like he’s always waiting for you, that he could swoop in any moment, as quick and ruthless as a hawk.

He’s said he could follow your scent straight to you, no matter where you’re hiding. Sometimes you believe it.

He’s leaning against a wall under an awning, but you know the casual stance is deceptive. He can be fast when he wants to be.

He calls your name, an inferred order to come.

You pretend you didn’t hear, keep walking.

He’s standing straight now arms at his side. Ready. Your insides feel leaden. It takes all your willpower to keep moving forward. To disregard an alpha is one, painful thing. To disregard the daimyō is simple insanity.

Water blurs your vision. You can’t tell from the corner of your eye what expression he’s making. Sometimes he finds your insolence humorous.

Sometimes not.

Just a dozen feet further and you’ll be at the bend in the road.

“You should greet me,” he says. Quiet, but you’re so hyper-vigilant, there’s no way you could miss it.

“Good morning, My Lord,” you whisper to your feet.

He doesn’t step out into the rain, but his voice follows you around the corner. Teasing, condescending. “That’s a good omega.”

He could kill you for your bad manners. A servant, ignoring their lord. No one would question it, no one would dispute it.

But then — he would be killing the only omega in the whole town.

As much as he resents your disobedience, he would resent the loss of you even more. An alpha must have an omega, he told you. That is his right.

Chin tucked and scurrying, you don’t realize you’re on a collision course until you’ve already run into the man. The impact sends you tumbling to the ground.

Through the buffer of the downpour, it takes you a minute to recognize him. His scent.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says. “I apologize.”

He bends to offer you a hand up. You just stare at his outstretched palm. Silent. Reeling.

You wait for him to give an order. Demand you take his hand, or that you come to stand on your feeble legs all on your own. It’s simply an alphas nature to wield their power like a cudgel, to bend everything and everyone to their will.

And now you have two of them to deal with.

Another moment of stillness. Your breath steams. Your pulse drowns out all other sounds.

He kneels.

Like this, on the same level, you can see the color of his eyes. So perfectly brown they’re almost black.

“Are you alright?” he says.

His voice is staid and calm. Not demanding. Not cruel. It — confuses you. You don’t understand what he wants from you.

You rise to your knees, shoving him with all your strength. He doesn’t budge. He remains solid and upright beneath your hands. You can feel the muscle, the innate strength. He’s warm, beneath the wet clothes. So incredibly warm.

You wonder if he could soothe your chill. You wonder if the touch of his bare skin would burn.

With a gasp, you tear away, appalled and mystified by your own reaction.

He stays kneeling as you rise and step away. He stays as you rush home, the scent of wisteria heavy in your lungs.

…

The innkeeper is displeased with your performance, of late. She gives you a stern warning that you shouldn’t let your “licentious nature” interfere with work.

“I don’t know why I agreed to take an omega on,” she sighs. “Not like you’ll be around for much longer, anyway.”

You wince. “Am I fired?”

The old woman laughs. “No, no. Not yet, anyway.” She waves at you, a full body gesture. A reference to the omega in you. “You’ll be wed to His Lordship soon, anyway. You won’t have to worry about the toil of work anymore.”

You excuse yourself shortly after.

…

The days are a monotony. Even the fear is so commonplace you lose track of it. The daimyō grows impatient with you. He calls to you from the shelter of the awning, each time a little bolder, a little less demure about his intentions.

“You know, I have a bad habit of breaking my things when I get bored of them,” he tells you. “I wonder what other tricks you have to keep me entertained.”

You hang your clothes to dry every evening, and the drip becomes a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock.

This is your life.

The rain.

…

The decree is issued that afternoon. Marriage.

You’re to report to the royal estate before sundown, along with everything you own. You will not be coming back.

You pack your bag; you take the road out of town. With the city at your back, you’ll have to pass through the outskirt woods. Then across the river, a dangerous gambit when the water is this high, but that just means you won’t be followed.

You can’t imagine the consequences if they catch you.

The path grows looser the further you go, the mud deep, silt as slick as ice. Arduous and exhausting. And dangerous, too.

You don’t realize your footing is off until it’s too late. You slip, land badly. You cry out before you can stop yourself.

You struggle to your knees, get one of your legs beneath you. A shock of pain has you tumbling down again.

You can’t stand. You can’t run.

Just moments after you fall, a shadow overtakes you. And a man, looming, familiar, crouches before you.

“I heard your voice,” he says. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, timid, overwhelmed.

“Pardon me,” he says, before hefting you up into his arms.

The ease he does it with is startling. An alpha’s superior strength.

He brings you to a small hunting cabin. Clearly abandoned, but decent enough. It’s dry, and a small fire is going in the hearth.

There’s no furniture except for a rudimentary pallet, which he sets you down on.

“May I?” he asks, hands hovering above your stockinged leg.

He takes your silence as answer enough, unrolling the material gradually, trying not to disturb your injury. He inspects it briefly, pressing carefully. You wince, he stops.

He reaches for his bag, retrieving a small tin. “Your ankle is sprained,” he tells you. “You should return to town in the morning.”

“I need to leave,” you return absently. “I have to get past the bridge.”

He frowns.

“The bridge has collapsed. The river is impassable.” He had tried to leave that morning, only to face the same dilemma. He considers you leg. “Besides, you won’t make it very far.”

The reality of your situation dawns on you, a slow tide of dread.

You missed your chance. You’ve lost your only opportunity at freedom.

You yank out of his grasp, dragging yourself across the floor, to the corner on the far side of the cabin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“No. No.” You gnash your teeth at him, feeling wild with fear, unable to see past the dark curtain of it. “I have to go. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”

He raises a hand, a placating gesture, but all you see is motion, canting toward you. An alpha. A threat.

You grab whatever is closest. You throw it at him.

The stick doesn’t even hit him, but that doesn’t stop you. You throw everything within reach.

He just waits for you to give up, but soon enough he realizes how stubborn you can be.

“Enough,” he says. His voice fills the shack, not loud, but indomitable. The undeniable command of an alpha. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would appreciate if you would offer me the same courtesy.”

You drop the stone you were going to hurl at him, suddenly incapable of aggression. You feel — groggy, but less terrified now. Very nearly calm.

His pheromones, you realize.

The notion that he’s using them on you should incense you, but you can’t muster it. You close your eyes, exhausted.

Eventually, after long minutes of tepid silence, he murmurs, “I was here first, you are aware of that, right?” His tone is almost — sullen.

And for some reason, that very human show of petulance is enough to thaw you.

You laugh.

You can’t stop. You laugh so hard it’s hardly laughter anymore. It’s so intense it makes your ribs hurt, brings tears to your eyes.

It feels like the first time you’ve been able to think clearly in weeks.

When you finally calm to a few soft hiccups, you lay down and throw your arms out. Passive.

“Alright, swordsman,” you say, “Fix me.”

He’s slow to approach you, cautious of another rock coming at him. But you remain still.

His touch is gentle, so soft it’s like he’s barely handling you at all. He retrieves the tin of salve you kicked out of his hand, and begins to apply it. It’s cool, slightly astringent. Beneath that, the scent of wisteria.

His fingers are just as warm as the rest of him.

It’s over before you can get used to the sensation of him touching you. He pulls away, returns the tin to his bag. “That will help with the swelling. You should still avoid putting weight on it until it heals.”

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say.

You think you hear him chuckle.

…

Night blooms, full and dark.

Despite your anxiousness, the waiting has grown tedious. Unbearably so.

“Is there anything in that bag to alleviate boredom?”

He glances at you for a moment. Hesitating.

Finally he reaches inside, pulls out a small binding. He passes it to you.

A book of poems. You recognize the shape of the sentences, some of the words. You wonder what use a swordsman has for literature, but the swordsman is full of surprises evidently.

Th pages are worn, the edges soft from thumbing.

“I can’t read,” you say. You look at him. Expectantly.

You hold the book out. He takes it, slowly, gingerly.

He reads.

He’s not much of a performer, although you didn’t expect him to be. It’s clear he’s not used to reading aloud, but he knows these passages well. He’s tone is even, with little inflection. The words come out perfectly paced.

They’re love poems. Not flowery or decadent, but earnest, gentle.

It seems at odds with what you know of him, what you’ve assumed from his status, both as a rōnin and an alpha. You’re not sure what to make of him anymore, how to reconcile the image you built of him in your head and everything you’ve witnessed here.

His swords are leaned against the wall beside him, sure proof of a history of violence.

The question comes, unbidden. “Have you ever killed someone?”

He pauses, glances at you. He searches your face for something, the fear that should accompany those words. But your expression is blank.

Silence, fraught with the tense memory of how you ended up here. What were you running from? Why? He must understand, to some extent. No one reaches desperation without pretext.

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“If I asked you to kill someone,” you murmur. “If I paid you…”

The implication feels enormous within the tight confines of the cabin.

“I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“To not be put in a position where you have to make that kind of decision.”

That makes something in your chest feel tight, on the verge of snapping. Another thing you can’t wrap your head around. Another emotion you can’t name. Uncomfortable, but not frightening. Not like before.

You feel displaced, unmoored.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m not being nice,” he says. “You need help. I’m in a position to provide it.”

And that seems wrong to you. Just because someone has the means doesn’t mean they’ll offer them, certainly not freely. Especially not when someone is a such a burden.

“I’ve never met an alpha who’s kind to an omega just for the sake of it,” you say despite his denial.

He mulls that over for a moment, head cocked as he decides how to respond.

“I didn’t know you were an omega until tonight,” he says, quietly. “I had my suspicions, but…”

“Were my bountiful charms not enough to tip you off?” You snort at his blank expression, too polite to disrespect you with an answer. “Why now?”

“Your scent. It’s…subtle. Easy to miss, especially under these circumstances.”

“What do I smell like?”

He smiles, for the first time since you met him. It softens his severe features, makes him look younger. Less world-weary. “You smell like rain.”

He continues reading as the sky continues to churn, until you can hardly keep your eyes open, just barely holding on to the soft thread of words.

“Sleep,” he says gently. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Despite yourself, you believe him.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #HAPPY FOUR AM #here’s this <3 #I knowwwww there’s like a thousand typos in here I just know it #I wanted to finish this tonight I felt compelled to #also I’m so sorry if u actually know stuff about history I am just making stuff up as I go <3 #JSJSJDJDJDJD #anyway……#one of the stranger aus I’ve written #cw: a/b/o #tw: a/b/o

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lemonlover1110 · 1 month

Note

“no, it’s okay, you don’t have to leave - i don’t mind changing in front of you.” With Hawks please!

Pairing: Hawks x f!Reader

Part of this little prompt game I'm doing for the day (perhaps the week), come join!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Your ideal date with Keigo fell into pieces the moment rain started falling onto the ground. Your date was going fine until you felt the water droplets on your skin, forcing you to run to shelter. You end up back at Keigo’s apartment, completely drenched.

“Next time we have to do a better job at checking the weather.” He chuckles as he hands you a towel. You would be laughing along with him if your outfit wasn’t completely ruined. You take the towel from him and dry yourself off.

“Do you have anything I can wear?” You ask, hoping that he does. It’s too early in your relationship for you to have clothes in his place, but you pray that he has something. You absolutely hate the feeling of wet clothes on your skin.

“I’ll check.” He says before walking away, leaving you in the living room. You begin to shiver, the wet clothes making your situation worse. You look out for him, getting impatient. He finally appears, wearing some dry clothes as he brings out some oversized clothes that certainly aren’t your style– But you don’t care. “I’m sure these will work.”

“Thank you.” You take the clothes from his hands, putting them down on the couch before you lift up your shirt. You begin to get dressed without a shame, and the cold that once threatened his body goes away as his cheeks get warm. He doesn’t waste a second before turning around, about to leave to give you some privacy.

Is he seriously nervous? He’s seen much more before… But not from you. He shouldn’t feel embarrassed at all. In situations like these he’s usually confident. He clears his throat before telling you, “I’ll be in my bedroom, call out my name when you’re finished.”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to leave– I don’t mind changing in front of you.” You mutter out, and you realize just how imprudent it sounds. You feel your face get hot as you hurry up and finish getting changed. You hear him chuckle, but he still remains turned around. “I’m finished, you can look now.”

“What do you want to do now?” He asks, feeling a little awkward after what just happened. It’ll go away in an instant though, he’s sure.

“How about a movie?” You respond, and he nods in response.

#[🍋] prompt game #mha #mha x reader #bnha hawks #hawks #hawks x reader #mha hawks #keigo takami #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x y/n #keigo x you

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black-aurora-nora · 4 months

Text

Give In | Platonic!Yandere!Hawks x Teen!Reader

This had to be the worst day of your life.

You didn't think anything would top being kidnapped, but here you were sunken into the couch of your 'home' weighed down by your own dejection.

Your entire body was cold.

Wet, muddied clothes clung to your body and there was an obvious trail coming from the door to the couch.

Everything was numb.

Your fingertips, your toes, your mind.

The sound of the door opening paused your inner monologue.

"Man, that rain is no joke today! I'm soaked!" Hawks' voice came from the front door, but you didn't bother looking at him.

He strolled over to you after taking his shoes off, but again you paid him no mind. You couldn't bear the sight of him.

He stilled for a moment, looking you over while a frown overtook his features, "(Y/N), my sweet little sister, did you go outside?" His voice was so soft yet unbearably sarcastic. He knew the answer.

He hummed unhappily when he received no reply, "You're gonna get sick if you sit in those wet clothes any longer. I'll go draw you a bat-"

"Yeah, I hope I get so sick that I die." You spat. But even that held no real emotion behind it. You couldn't even bring yourself to be angry at him.

You'd been angry at first.

You'd spent so long trying to figure out an escape plan, only to find the door unlocked when you didn't find a key. Then you anxiously ran out into the rain, screaming for help and looking for any other houses or even streets.

For miles, you ran.

For miles, you hoped and prayed that today was the day you'd be free again.

But as if your prayers were nothing but a joke, you found a tall wall at the end of your journey and it suddenly made sense why the door was left unlocked.

The image of Keigo laughing at you was the first thing that flashed in your mind and you felt something snap in your psyche.

You grabbed at the muddied ground, throwing clumps of mud and grass into the wall as if it were mocking you. Curses of Keigo's name left your mouth with fiery breaths and when the clumps of mud weren't enough, you hit and clawed at the walls.

It hadn't mattered that your fingers were bleeding or that a few nails were gone.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Nothing mattered except for Keigo.

"Okay, grumpy, you still have to take a bath."

You clenched your fists and took a deep breath, "Why didn't you tell me about the wall?"

Keigo stopped, turning back towards you. He had a cocky glint in his eyes, "Did you really think I was gonna let you go that easily? Or that someone wouldn’t find you and return you?”

"Why..." You trailed off, "Why did you let me think that I had a chance? I... I ran for miles... thinking I was free..."

A sound of pity left Keigo and you wished you could slap him, "(Y/N), you're a smart kid. I'm your older, smarter brother." You wanted to scoff at his ego, "Why wouldn't I or the Heroes' Commission plan ahead?"

Why wouldn't they plan ahead?

You felt so stupid.

Of course everything had been planned.

Your prior kidnapping from your home.

Your shipment to Japan.

And your 'rescue' accomplished by Hawks himself.

It was so obvious now that all of that had been an orchestrated to get you into Keigo's possession.

You were a business plan.

Something to keep Keigo occupied from losing his sanity.

"Y-... You're all sick... you're all fucking sick!" Your chest hurt and you clawed at your heart with mangled fingers.

"(Y/N), focus on your breathing for me." Keigo told you, ignoring your spiraling. When you couldn't calm down, he stalked towards you, "(Y/N), I said focus! Slow your breathing."

Violent sobs tore your throat.

Everything had been taken from you just so you could play house with some hero.

Keigo cooed softly and closed the gap between you to hold you close and slide you down to the floor, telling you to slow your breathing.

He uttered praises to you when you finally listened and slowly but surely, your breathing was dissolved into quiet sobs and sniffles.

He stroked the top of your head before grabbing one of your hands to look at your fingers. He gave a small sigh when noticed how bloodied and swollen they were. They were probably riddled with fractures and would surely bruise.

“Maybe,” he spoke, “If you’d let go…this whole thing would be easier.”

“I… I’m gonna go take a bath now…” Your voice was hoarse, grated raw from your sobs and you stood on wobbly legs to make your way to the bathroom.

Keigo only smiled reassuringly and before you closed the door, he spoke one more time, “I love you so much, (Y/N). Please don’t forget that.”

But how could you?

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terrarain · 8 months

Text

seasons of love

characters: todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, takami keigo

summary: four seasons, four guys. different drabbles based on the season.

notes: reader's pronouns unspecified, swearing, it's entirely fluff! mentions of a reader with a pollen allergy in keigo's, some possessiveness in bakugou's for like one line, ticklish reader in shinsou's

word count: 4.5k

ˏˋ°•*⁀☂️ spring; takami keigo

Keigo didn't see much appeal in the rainy showers that May would bring. The rain had an unpleasant tendency to wash away traces of villain activity; it was a criminal's best friend. Activity in the streets were always lower when it was raining. People weren't as alert.

So he doesn't really get it when you're tugging at his sleeve with a cute pout that. As he stares at your jutted out lip, he has the oddest desire to bite it.

"Please. It'll be fun."

"Alright, consider me convinced, birdie."

All you had to do was say please with wide eyes and pouty lips and he was done for. Keigo's sure that Miruko would laugh her ass off at how easily Keigo acquiesced to all of your requests. Good thing for him, then, that the rabbit hero was nowhere to be seen.

And so that's the explanation behind why Keigo, the number two hero Hawks who was currently on a break, is currently walking next to you. In one hand, he's holding a well-loved umbrella and his other hand...

Golden eyes linger on the free hand at your side, swinging forward and back as you practically skip along the rain-washed sidewalk.

The hand that's not holding the umbrella twitches.

"You really like the rain."

"It's the best part about spring."

The beaming smile that you send his way makes Keigo feel all melty inside with affection. A part of him is glad that his wings have been reduced to just a few feathers at the moment. He has a feeling that, if his wings had been full, they'd be puffing up an embarrassing amount right about now.

He cocks his head to the side slightly. "Not the flowers?"

"The flowers are nice, too. But they make my allergies act up and those aren't much fun."

Keigo recalls memories of you in past springs, nose all runny and red, eyes slightly teary.

"But you're cute when you're sniffling," he teases, trying for a flirty smile. You just roll your eyes playfully.

"You won't be saying that when I'm constantly blowing snot into tissues."

You'd still be cute in his eyes. He's seen you a snotty mess before, when you got sick one time, and Keigo couldn't help but think that you looked stunning.

"You look beautiful all the time."

"Yeah, yeah, you flirt," you laugh, unconvinced.

Shit, he thinks distantly. I'm down real bad.

Keigo hadn't been saying that just to flatter you. He really did think that you were the most beautiful person he's ever laid eyes upon. Anybody who said otherwise was just wrong. They'd have to be blind to not recognize your beauty.

"Seriously," he insists. A flush takes over your cheeks, faint but still there. Keigo smiles to himself.

"Anyways," you fluster, walking a bit faster. He quickens his pace as well, careful to make sure that the umbrella that he was sharing with you was still covering you. He could feel his shoulder getting a little wet, but he didn't really care.

"So," Keigo drawls, one bushy brow raised. "Didja drag me out into the rain just so we could walk? I know I'm irresistible," an eyeroll from you, "...and that you want to spend more time with me, but we could just hang out at your apartment like usual."

"You're such a homebody," you muse. "Who knew that the flashy, number two winged hero Hawks is a shut-in."

"Hey," he says, not all that offended. "Your place s'real comfy."

And nobody expects anything of him when he's in the comfort of your well-lived in home. He's just Takami Keigo in private, cracking jokes and play-wrestling with you. Just another average joe who's hanging out with the love of his life a friend.

" 'sides," Keigo continues, looking over to you quickly. "I'm out here with you, aren't I? Even though I have no clue what you're up to."

"Oh, I never told you, huh?" you muse. The look in your eyes is playful, almost childlike.

"What schemes are you cooking up in that pretty little head of yours?" he questions, eyes slightly narrowed. He moves up a bit more to walk next to you when he sees a car approaching from behind. There's no puddles for the car to splash the two of you with, but better safe than sorry.

"You said that you've never played in the rain," is your non-answer.

Keigo does faintly recall telling you this. It had been a while ago, if he's remembering things correctly. You were working your magic in the kitchen while he was sitting at the counter as he watched when he had let this bit of information slip.

Ah, he realizes. "That's what all this fuss is about?"

"You're missing out," you insist when you hear his perplexed tone. "Right now, it's raining. And you're on break. So... now's a great time to take you out."

Keigo almost makes a joke about you taking him out in a different context — for a date.

The joke doesn't come. Instead, he just says: "Chickadee, I've flown through the rain. You're actin' like this is my first rodeo out in the rain."

You let out a little (cute) frustrated huff, eyes narrowing. Your arms cross as you speak. "Put the umbrella aside. We're going puddle jumping."

Keigo cocks a brow in questioning, "Uh, you sure? You'll get—"

"—wet?" you interrupt him as you bring the hood of your raincoat over your head. "That's what the coats are for."

"If you say so," he says, giving up easily enough as he brings the hood of his own raincoat up before closing the umbrella. Keigo really can't say no to you.

The two of you stand there under the rain. It's not particularly harsh, but it's definitely not a light drizzle, either. A scarlet red feather flies up to carry the umbrella that he sets to the side.

"So, what now, professor?" Keigo says, grinning. "Please do teach me about the joys of rainy weather."

"Gladly," you say as you offer him a hand. It only takes a nanosecond before his hand is in yours, his gaze expectant. The raindrops that fall onto the exposed skin are cool.

You tug at his hand, gentle, and he follows behind you like a lost puppy. Keigo finds himself feeling glad that there's nobody out at the moment — that there's nobody to disturb this moment between the two of you.

"Just gotta find..." you trail off, eyes scanning up ahead for something. Eventually, your aimless wandering becomes directed as you let out a small 'aha!'.

You're leading him towards a recently formed, sizeable puddle on the sidewalk.

"Are we going to—"

"Yes."

"Chickadee, we'll be soaked."

"Didn't take you to be such a party pooper," you tease, stopping right at the edge of the puddle as you look over to him.

Keigo gasps, offended. "Me? A party pooper? Why, I oughta—"

You don't wait for him to finish that sentence, jumping into the puddle in front of him with a lot more force than he thinks is necessary. The water comes up and out of reflex, his arms rise in a futile defense against the liquid.

"You were saying?"

"You are so cheeky," Keigo says fondly before he joins you in the puddle, jumping into the rainwater just as a child would.

He hears you let out a little squeal as water flies up towards you and Keigo grins, kicking some water at you as a form of payback.

"That's cold," you giggle, eyes bright.

"I said it'd be cold earlier while you were trying to drag me out," Keigo replies, letting you tug him out of the puddle as you begin searching for another puddle to jump into.

"Worth it," you declare.

He tilts his head curiously. "You're having that much fun?"

Your reply catches him off guard and he almost stumbles.

"It got you smiling again," you say easily, turning around a corner. Your face lights up when you see another untouched puddle. "Not one of those safe smiles. A smile smile."

"A smile smile," he echoes with vague amusement. His heart is fluttering and his cheeks are warming. Keigo, pointedly, does not acknowledge it. "Your descriptions could use some work."

"Oh, please, you get the point," you grin. "Now, come and help me ruin our jackets and boots more, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Keigo says, joining you in your adventures into the puddle of water while he thinks,

Maybe the rain isn't all bad after all.

ˏˋ°•*⁀☀️ summer; todoroki shouto

"Thank you! Come back again!"

Shouto one perfectly-shaped brow slightly as he glances over to you. You're waving to the person leaving with a sunny smile. In the sky, the sun had already started lowering.

"Are you doing this again tomorrow?" he questions. The hand that's waving stills momentarily before dropping back down to the table of the stand he sat at with you.

You lick your lips. On the table, you're twisting your fingers - Shouto recognizes it as one of your nervous habits.

"Um... well, you don't have to, if you don't want to."

Shouto shifts, gaze briefly flickering over to the bucket of icecream surrounded in his ice. He repeats his question, slightly reworded this time.

"Do you want to do this again tomorrow?"

Your eyes, Shouto thinks as he returns your stare, are something that he could gaze at for hours upon hours on end.

"I do," you admit, lips upturned in a shy smile. "Are you... free tomorrow?"

Shouto's hums as he leans forward a little towards you, chin in the palm of his hand. The darkening of your cheeks makes the smile on his face grow a touch wider. "I am, indeed, free tomorrow. I presume you will be enlisting my assistance as a personal cooler again?"

The little laugh that slips through your lips is light and breathless as you nod. "Mmhm. Really, thanks again for this, Todoroki."

"It's no problem," he says, and it really isn't. Although the request had been an odd one, he didn't particularly mind.

The request in question had been related to ice cream carts - which, to his understanding, are portable stands that sell ice cream. You had told him that you'd wanted to run one - but didn't have the money to rent one out. Shouto had been on the verge of offering to rent one for you when you had eagerly tugged him over to a makeshift stand.

"So, I decided to make my own!" you had told him a few hours ago. Your previously eager smile had turned sheepish when you made a request. "But I don't really have anything to keep the ice cream cool in the heat, so I.. I was wondering if you would be willing to be a cooler? You'll get half of the money the stand makes!"

Shouto would've provided his assistance regardless of whether or not you were paying him. He had said as much, but you insisted on paying him anyways.

"You're really sure you don't have anything else to do?" you question, frowning in concern. "It can't be that fun for you, sitting around at a table in the heat for most of the day."

"The heat doesn't really affect me," he says smoothly, smiling warmly as he looks at you. "And I think it's quite enjoyable. You're very good company."

"Oh-" you clear your throat, all flushed cheeks and giddy smiles. "You're good company, too, Todoroki."

His lips downturn. "Shouto."

The look you send him can only be described as bewildered.

"Call me Shouto," he clarifies. "We are close enough for you to refer to me as such, no?"

He tilts his head when you stare at him with wide eyes.

"Then - you can call me by my given name, too," you say shyly. When he says your name out loud, you nod slightly. "That's me!"

You then shuffle a little, turning to reach for the bag of ice cream cones. He watches with rapt attention as you scrape out the last remaining bits of ice cream in the bucket and drop it onto the cone. He retracts the ice he had around the bucket, seeing as there was no ice cream left to keep cool.

"You should have it." you say after watching him. When he looks at you, you're holding the cone out for him.

Shouto shakes his head. "It's alright. You can have it."

"Shouto," you huff. "Really, you should have it instead. You've been entertaining my whims 'n whatnot the entire day, so.."

The usage of his name has him hesitating; he wonders if you'll say his name again if he keeps refusing. The small pout on your face discourages him from that, though, and he decides to opt for a compromise.

He leans in to take a bite of the ice cream in front of you. Vanilla melts a little on his tongue before he swallows the bite, the coolness of the treat lingering. When Shouto pulls back, he observes your flustered expression with some amusement.

"There," he says simply. "I've had my fill. You can have the rest."

You open your mouth to protest and he just raises a brow in a silent question. He seems to conveyed his message well, because you bring the cone to your lips and take a small bite as you look away from him. Shouto gently pokes at your flushed cheeks, eliciting a giggle.

The smile on his face is fond. Shouto doesn't really have a favourite season - he didn't see a reason to have a favourite.

But, as the sun sets in the distance, last few rays of sunlight framing you in a picturesque scene as you finish off the ice cream cone in your hand - Shouto thinks that if he had to pick one season as his favourite, it would be summer.

ˏˋ°•*⁀🍁 autumn; bakugou katsuki

Katsuki doesn't indulge people. He doesn't entertain their whims. He gives absolutely zero fucks about the desires of other people.

(A lie, sort of. Katsuki is just a little soft towards his closest friends and he lets himself get dragged into their antics sometimes. But he would never openly admit that.)

That's what he says. That's what he told you, more or less, when you had thrown his coat at him and pushed him out the door of the dormitory. Which he let you do because he's particularly soft towards you.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud," you tease him with a playful grin. His expressions sours even further, which earns him the action of you poking him in the forehead with one finger. "You'll get wrinkles early if you keep frowning so hard."

"Stuff it," he says heatedly as he swats your hand away. It's an action that he immediately regrets, but his body doesn't relax in the slightest.

You don't seem to mind, laughing good-naturedly, which pisses him the fuck off because you should mind. He treats you so roughly and it's unwarranted, he thinks. Katsuki knows that he's an asshole and he knows he's far from being a nice person.

You should be treated kindly. Should be hanging out with someone just as bright and sunny as you.

But at the same time, he doesn't want you to do that. It's an unreasonable possessiveness, he thinks, because you're not even his. You don't belong to anyone.

Katsuki has no idea why you still hang out with him.

You're all soft touches, kind smiles, playful quips — and he's rough around the edges. He's a horrible person and he's done fucked up shit in the past that he regrets so, so deeply and he doesn't get you. Or any of the things he feels for you.

You're more resilient than he would've ever thought — because while you were all soft and shit, you knew when to stand up for yourself and you never let yourself be pushed around. You're firm with him and handle yourself well around him. Something about you, terrifyingly enough, disarms him.

His classmates — friends, they call themselves — are also weirdly eager to be around him, just like you. They actively insert themselves into his life and include him in their playful banter.

But you hang out with him the most. Some people have commented on it, in the past. He had just replied to them with a dark glare.

"Alright, this is a good spot!"

Katsuki cocks his head to the side, brows still furrowed. "Hah? Whaddya mean?"

The two of you are standing in a fairly open space, a few ways away from the dormitories. It's a clear part of campus with several trees hanging overhead.

"Pretty, isn't it?" you say, not answering his question at all. Your gaze is directed upwards, so he follows. Golden yellows, crimson reds, vibrant oranges act as a natural ceiling. Bits of the blue sky are peeking through.

"The fuck we standing here for?" he asks, all gruff as he looks back at you.

In one smooth motion, you pull out two rakes and what the fuck.

"Where the hell were you hiding those?"

"Trade secret," is your playful response as you press a rake to his chest. He grabs it out of reflex more than anything. "Less questioning, more raking."

"Hah? What's this shit even for?"

There's a glint in your eyes as you reply.

"Raking leaves," you state the obvious and he rolls his eyes. "We're making leaf piles to jump in."

"That shit's for kids," he grumbles, unmoving as he watches you fly around the leaf-covered ground, starting up a small pile of multi-coloured leaves.

"You're basically just a big baby," you coo and his glare sharpen. You don't seem to react because you're somehow never affected. "So I don't see the problem."

"That's—" he flounders, eventually deciding on a snarl. "Listen up. I'm not fucking making fucking dumb piles of fucking leaves just so you can fucking jump into them."

"Is fuck the only swear you know?" you question. You're teasing him.

He glowers.

"This is unfortunate," you sigh dramatically. He watches you carefully as you pause, looking down at the pile of leaves at your feet with a forlorn expression. "I didn't think that the Bakugou Katsuki would be so terrified of a few leaves. Guess I need to go get someone stronger to help me out."

Katsuki knows that you're trying to get him to rake leaves. He knows that you're poking at his ego and it's ridiculous because there's absolutely no reason for him to get competitive over a few fuc- shitty leaves. It's dumb, really—

"Fuck you," he spits as he starts raking up a pile of his own at record pace. Katsuki misses the painfully soft smile on your face, more focused on making his pile bigger than yours.

For a few minutes, it's just the sound of two students romping around and the scraping of the steel rakes against the ground that fills the air. Eventually, Katsuki comes to a halt when there's no more leaves in the immediate vicinity. He considers going out further to get more leaves for his pile.

"Damn," you whistle and his chest swells a little in pride at your impressed voice. "That is a big pile of leaves. I surrender."

"Ha. Did you think you could beat me to begin with?"

You snort, hand wrapping around his wrist. He can feel the sweat forming on the palms of his hands and he thinks that, if the lightning dumbass was around, he'd be making so much fun of Katsuki for the sweaty hands.

Katsuki has a few swears lined up, but none of them manage to leave his mouth because you're tugging him along.

Straight towards his pile of leaves.

(He could probably plant his feet firmly in the ground, making all of your attempts at moving him around futile.)

(He doesn't.)

Katsuki is stumbling into the mountain of leaves along with you as you destroy all of his hard work with a jump.

He's a little worried that you'll hit your head against something and before he knows it, one of his hands are resting against the back of your head as the two of you lay down on the ground.

The smile on your face makes him feel all soft and gooey and shit inside.

"Look," you say, and he glances up at the sky briefly as per your request. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Leaves are fluttering down gently around the two of you, warm tones unique only to autumn painting the air. It really is a sight to behold, he thinks, as he looks at your content expression.

The leaves eventually settle and you take it as your cue to stand back up. Katsuki looks at the hand that had been previously cradling the back of your head before he stands up roughly a second after you.

There's a golden leaf in your hair.

Without thinking, he reaches out slowly to pluck the leaf from your hair in one, easy motion.

"..Bakugou?"

"You had a leaf in your hair," he grumbles, flicking it off to the side. "Dumbass."

"That's mean," you say, but the smile resting upon your face with darkened cheeks makes him feel like you aren't so offended. Katsuki thinks he likes the way you look when blushing. "Round two?"

"Your pile is still there," he huffs. "Whaddya mean by round two?"

"But it's small," you lament, gazing upon your small pile of leaves. It definitely pales in comparison to the tower of leaves that Katsuki had cooked up earlier. "It'll be a lot more fun if it's bigger. Let's collect all of the leaves up into one big pile."

"This is dumb," he says, lips turning upwards in a slight smile.

"But it's fun!" you beam.

"...Whatever," he breathes out, turning away brusquely to hide his growing smile.

Katsuki's chest feels warm as he shoves a small bunch of leaves into the growing leaf pile.

ˏˋ°•*⁀❄️ winter; shinsou hitoshi

"Fuck, don't go in there. Are you a dumbass?"

Hitoshi shifts slightly. "Probably."

In all honesty, Hitoshi has no idea what's going on in the horror movie that you had put on.

There's some screaming, probably some ghosts or something - was the movie a ghost movie? He couldn't remember - which was all very cool. Probably. But he's more interested in you.

His best friend. That he's fallen irrevocably in love with.

You take a sip from your mug of hot cocoa, eyes watching the laptop screen with rapt attention. There's some sort of noise that comes from the screen that draws his own attention over. A rather ghastly, pale creature shows up behind the movie's protagonist.

"I told you so," you mutter, like the protagonist could hear you.

"Damn, someone doesn't leave the house," Hitoshi comments off-handedly, referring to the unnaturally pale, spindly creature currently chasing after the main character.

That draws a snort from you. A sound that has him wanting to poke at you so he can hear it again.

"Like you're one to talk, 'Toshi."

Now that has him actually poking at your sides. He takes the hot cocoa out of your hand and sets it down on his desk before he starts jabbing his fingers into your sides.

You break down into a mess of airy giggles as you try to pry his hands off of you and he grins.

"Hey. My complexion is way better than that thing."

"I don't know," comes your drawl once he stops tickling you, gazing up at him with an impish grin. "When was the last time you left the house and touched some grass?"

"There's no grass to touch," Hitoshi says, getting off of you to gesture at his window. Outside, a flurry of white storms on. "There's a fucking snowstorm. Its been snowing like crazy the last few weeks. Any grass out there is long-gone."

"Sounds like excuses to me," you chirp, settling back into your sitting position on his bed. He can't help but note that you're a lot closer this time. If he moves as much as an inch, his legs would bump into yours.

Hitoshi counts to three to calm himself down.

His heart beats thunderously against his chest anyways.

"Oh, she's definitely dead," you say, interrupting his thoughts. He raises a brow and turns his attention to the screen of your laptop.

Sure enough, there's a gory mess of fake blood and organs and a lot of screaming from the girl.

"You don't say," he drawls as the screams die down. You smack his arm playfully.

"Hush."

"Technically, you're the one who keeps initiating conversation," he snarks.

The smile on your face grows and he allows himself to think that you're smiling at him fondly. "Smartass."

"You know it and you love it."

Silence.

Hitoshi panics. What did he say, again? He definitely said the l-word. He hadn't been thinking. What did you think? You had suddenly gone silent and-

"That, I do," is your whispered response.

His body locks up and he just stares at you, but you aren't looking at him. Your gaze is resolutely fixed on the screen, acting all nonchalant - but he catches the darkened hue of your cheeks.

He smiles softly and turns his attention over to the screen, half-watching.

The scene had moved on from the girl's death. There was some arguing amongst people in a dingy little room. The only safe room in the house, if he recalled correctly.

Something to his side shifts and then he feels a warmth pressed up against him. His reaction is immediate, head snapping over to you.

"It's cold," is all you offer for an explanation, drawing the shared blanket closer to you.

The heating system had broken down a while ago, so the two of you had opted to share a blanket. It was a large blanket — big enough for two people to share without ever having to touch the other. He figures it could probably fit three.

Hitoshi continues to stare.

"You're always warm," you clear your throat, pulling your end of the blanket up around you to hide your flushed cheeks.

"What am I, your personal heater?" he manages to joke, trying to ignore the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

"Yes," you declare simply.

He rolls his eyes fondly. Boldly, he slowly snakes an arm around your waist to pull you closer against him.

For the body heat, he clarifies to himself.

There's no protest from your end, so he assumes he's in the clear. If anything, you're snuggling up against him and fuck if it isn't the cutest thing ever. It's getting harder to resist the urge to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"We should do this more."

Your voice comes out quiet, tentative. Hitoshi licks his lips as he hums nervously.

"What, cuddling?" he says, half-joking.

"Yes," you say, completely serious.

Oh, fuck me.

"It's not annoying, is it?" you question, a bit of hesitation flickering about in your gaze.

"No," Hitoshi replies immediately, arm around your waist tightening a little. "Nah, 's fine."

The hum he hears from you is happy as you turn your attention back to the movie. The horror movie you had put on was just background noise to Hitoshi as he relaxes into you.

And if the two of you don't move from your positions long after the movie ends, well — that's only for you and him to know.

a/n: still not super comfy with how i write bakugou gAH i want to do the boy some justice bc he's got a lot going on,,, hopefully i'll get it with time

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto #rainywriting

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fluff-n-cookies · 8 months

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Thunder Storms and Cuddles.

^that animation is amazing

ANYWAY

Keigo seems like the type of guy to babysit for a close friend because he owes them a favor from like really long ago

what he didn't expect was that that 'friend' now has a child and has been happily married for over 7 years.

what he didn't expect was that that 'friend' desperately needed someone to babysit said child for about 2 days

what he didn't expect was that he would be comforting a 3 year old at 4 in the morning on the couch to help them get through a particularly bad thunder storm.

the once soft pitter patter of rain had now turned into a raging storm. the rain droplets pounded at the glass of the windows, and the deafening clash of thunder could be heard all throughout the house, before simmering down to a light rumble.

whimpering, you cuddled further into keigo's pajamas, tightened your grip on his arm, and let out a little 'eep!' when you saw the lightning knowing what was to come next.

"now, now, (y/n), it's okay, it's only a sound, it can't hurt you." Keigo's voice seemed as smooth as butter as he gently petted your hair, patting it down and smoothing it out.

"how do you know Mr.Hawks!" you exclaimed a little pout slowly forming on your face.

"I'm Mr.Hawks, I know-" he was cut off by a loud clap of thunder that could only be described as boisterous, causing you to pull up one of his wings in defense,

if you listen closely, (which Hawks always does) you can hear the muffled sniffles from under Hawk's wing and if you concentrate, you can feel tears staining both his feathers and your cheek.

with a sigh, Hawks cupped your now slightly wet cheek making you face toward him.

"listen. I know it's scary, and I know you must be terrified, so please let me protect you. I want to help you, but first you need to calm down and tell me how I can help instead of crying okay? okay."

he picked you up and put you on his hip, "first let's get your little cheeks dry again and then you can have some cookies and we can talk about this."

that night was a good night.

that night, Hawks realized maybe your parents weren't the best people when it comes to raising a child. I mean, you're scared of thunder storms to the point you were crying when it thundered.

that night, Hawks realized murder isn't THAT bad.

that night, Hawks realized he wanted to be a father.

but only to you <3

#yan papa hawks #yandere hawks #yandere hawks x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #hawks x daughter reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha x child reader #bnha dads #ill add to this later #bnha #bnha headcannons #child reader

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gayassbish · 6 months

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Genshin Girls When They’re Late to a Date! Modern AU

Genre: Angst, Eventual fluff

Reader: Gender Neutral

Characters: Beidou, Yelan, Sangonomiya Kokomi, Ei

Beidou-

It’s raining. Your girlfriend is late. You wonder if she even forgot your anniversary. You’re sitting at the, now wet, picnic spot that you picked hoping to watch the sunset while eating the delicious home-made sandwiches you made for her. You hoped you guys would reminisce about past time while watching the warm sky finally turn blue. This was supposed to be a romantic outing, but instead you’re by your lonesome with no Beidou in sight.

You guys have been together for a while now, and Beidou has been so attentive of your every need, making sure you’re always comfortable, safe, and warm with her around. And what’s worse? The fact that she’s sent all your calls to voicemail and hasn’t answered your texts, or that she’s smiling… climbing the hill you’re sat on and bringing a hugeee umbrella to cover you, her, and the food.

“Hey love,” she calls out quietly. You remain silent as she places the umbrella down to protect you and the already soggy food from the rain. She doesn’t sit down yet, waiting for your permission.

“Won’t even look at me, huh?” She sighs, kneeling and looking in your direction. The soft rain outlining her figure.

You sigh, “Please make yourself at home, don’t want you to get a cold.” You say with an eye roll as you’re basically an ice cube away from turning into a snowman.

She chuckles a bit as you scoot over to make space for her. She grabs your hand and gives it a rub, trying to warm you up. You let her. This is her apologizing for her being late. You can tell she feels too bad to even mention an excuse as to why she’s late right now, but you ask anyway. “Why did you come so late? The suns already gone and the sandwiches are pretty much ruined…” You speak barley even audible, but Beidou catches it. She catches everything you say.

“Well… did you eat all the sandwiches or are they all actually soggy?” She reaches for the picnic basket, imagining the wooden protective cover would keep the sandwich’s dry, plus you put them in a zip log.

You slap her hand quickly before she can uncover the basket. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have eaten all of them if you came on time!” You huff angrily, finally looking her in the eyes to see her already looking at you, with her signature hearty smile. She watches your face soften at the sight of her.

“Oh there’s those sweet eyes,” she rubs a hand over your cheek. Practically holding you captive. You can’t refuse. “Why don’t we just make this a stargazing night instead, hmm? Would you like that?” Once you nod, she pushes you down the wet blanket you laid out, cupping your face as she starts to kiss you softly.

If only you weren’t so weak in the knees for her…

P.S. You eventually found out she was late cause she saw the weather forecast ahead of time (unlike you) and left half way in the drive to the picnic spot so she could grab a huge umbrella to keep you warm. She was actually really angry at herself she couldn’t beat the rain.

Yelan-

You’re scared. It’s dark out. The restaurant is closing and your ride, your girlfriend may I add, is no where to be seen. The dangers of waiting in the street in this city is just a fiasco already in motion.

And your girlfriend knows this, hence why she’s practically never late to anything. Yelan is always looking out for any possible danger like a hawk (she can be a little over protective sometimes). But it’s been maybe about two hours since your original meeting time? You wouldn’t know because your phone is dead… You have no idea where she is, and the restaurant staff is waiting on you so they can leave.

You sheepishly apologize to the waitress closing up as you exit the fancy restaurant that Yelan reserved. ‘Where the hell is she??’ You ponder. But just as you exit out the restaurant, you see the familiar expensive black car pull up.

Yelan doesn’t roll down the window, no, she jumps out the car and runs toward you. She frantically grabs your shoulders and starts shaking you. “Are you okay?? Why weren’t you home? Did something happen? I had to track you through your phone, gosh I was worried sick.” She starts to speak really fast while she gives you a quick look around to confirm to herself that you are alive.

Once she reassured herself that you’re okay, she noticed how fancy you’re dressed and looks up to the name of the restaurant, finally remembering this was the day she invited you out to eat. “Oh… oh baby I’m so sorry.” A look a guilt fills her face as she frowns.

“Did you forget?” You chime. The disappointment still lingers, but whatever anger you felt, dissipated from the look of panic on her face. She nods, resting her head on your shoulder as you rub her back. “It’s okay, it happens to the best of us.” She stiffens at your words. She looks back to make eye contact with you and your soft sympathizing smile melts her heart. How could she ever keep someone as sweet as you waiting?

Yelan takes another look at you. Letting the sight in front of her really sink in. “You dressed this nice for me?” She smirks and you heat up.

You always shy away when she gives you that look. “I just wanted today to be special and then to look special… for you.” Yelan’s heart probably skipped a beat at that.

“Then let me make it up to you.” She opens the passenger seat and holds a hand out for you. Nothing but determination set on her face as you accept the familiar warmth of her hand and climb in.

P.S. I bet she ended up taking you to Mcdonalds cause basically nothing is open late anymore (Thanks a lot COVID)

Kokomi-

You’re worried. The crowd of the movie theatre starts to disperse and there’s still no sign of Kokomi anywhere. It’s maybe about an hour after your meeting time and the movie is already halfway done probably. You decide to venture out the cinema to the busy street, sun hitting your eyes as it’s still bright out.

But this sunny atmosphere doesn’t help the fact that you’re worried sick, not for yourself but Kokomi. She actually planned this date and she isn’t picking up her phone. ‘God what if something happened to her.’ You’d never forgive yourself if something did. You made a promise to yourself to always protect her.

You knew Kokomi had a habit of over exhausting herself; that she tends to sorta just crash afterwards and needs time to recharge. This weekend was supposed to be a celebration for completing finals week, but maybe the cramming got to her.

After wandering around the city for a bit, occasionally calling out your lover’s name, you decide to head to her dorm. Luckily it’s not far away. It’s a 10 minute walk, but you make it five as you’re in a hurry to make sure she’s okay.

While rushing a flash of pink strides past you as it takes you a second to look back at the familiar backside of your girlfriend.

“Kokomi! Wait up!” You immediately dash as she turns around at the sound of her name. She pauses. The look of panic of her face turns into a scrunched up one as she starts to cry at the sight of you. There’s eye bags under her eyes, her hairs a mess, and she’s still in pajamas. She still looks like the princess she is though, but you can tell she was rushing to meet you.

She runs over to you and frantically exclaims, “I’m so sorry, I slept through my alarm and set so many to make it on time cause I really wanted to watch this with you but I didn’t hear the ring. You’ve been looking forward to movie weekend for so long cause of finals and so have I cause I needed to see you. But I’ve been so tired from all these all nighters and-“

“Kokomi calm down, it’s okay. You’re okay and that’s all that matters.” You grab her and give her a hug, trying to sooth her down as she bawls in your arms. “It’s okay, everything is okay now.” You rub her back as she eventually pulls herself together.

“Ugh sorry you had to see me like that. I look like a mess right now.” She looks at her feet and tugs at the shirt she’s wearing that has different toothpaste stains.

“Oh my god, don’t be ridiculous Koko.” She flushes at the sound of her nickname as you comfort her. “Even if you were covered in mud or fell into a trash can, you’d still be the prettiest girl in the world.” She blushes even more at your words and gives you another hug.

“I really missed you this week.” She says, hugging you even tighter.

“I know, so did I. Why don’t we just do movie night at your place?” You pat her head as she nods. You guys hold hands on the way back as Kokomi eventually returns to her passionate self in your presence.

P.S. She forgot her phone as she rushed out to get you.

Ei-

Your girlfriend doesn’t leave the house often. She’s really busy and tends to be a homebody anyway, so this weekend you wanted to take a road trip to the nearby beach and finally enjoy some sunlight with her. Don’t get me wrong, staying home with Ei makes for a passionate and cozy atmosphere, but you wanted more of a romantic environment sometimes.

Hence why you’re here, voice mailing Ei wondering if she’s still at the beach hotel. You guys would’ve walked to the beach together if it weren’t for the fact that Ei still has some work to finish up and told you that’d she’d meet you there soon.

At first you were having fun, playing in the water and sand, but it’s been a good hour since Ei said she’d be coming. Now, an hour might not seem too long on the beach given there’s a lot to do, but Ei said she’d be coming out soon. And while Ei isn’t very good with time management (she’s a perfectionist who takes the lasting seconds to perfect her work) she promised you that this weekend was just going to be you, her, and the big blue sea.

You sit on the sand, wet from the sea but not cold with the sun’s glare. You watch the waves go back and forth. The wishy-washy sea oddly reminds you of your relationship. There’s those times where it feels like the perfect relationship in the world, but then its goes back to times like these. You don’t like being mad at Ei, she has her reasons of course, but you just want to be the priority sometimes.

You get lulled out of your thoughts at the sound of your name. “Y/N! There you are, I’ve been looking for you. Are you ready for the beach?” You turn around to see her huffing and puffing from running. But once she sees a gloomy look on your face she asks, “What’s wrong?” She sits down next to you and looks to you for an answer.

“I…,” you sigh. You can’t say it. Ei works hard; not to play hard, but she works hard to provide. She’s paying for this trip and you just can’t bring yourself to complain. “No, sorry it’s nothing-“

“Y/N tell me. I know when something is troubling you.” She cuts you off and gives your hand a squeeze. She looks so attentively at you, searching your eyes for an answer.

“I just wish you’d spend more time with me… you promised it’d be just you and me, but you’ve spent more time with your laptop than me and I just… I just don’t get how I can miss my girlfriend when she’s right next to me.” You poor everything out in the open as a silence lingers in the air. You don’t meet Ei’s eyes, slightly worried she might be angry.

But you’re met with a hug instead. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t feel nice to be put second. Work has been hectic lately, but I promise- no enough promises. I am going to be the best for you. You deserve nothing but the best. I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I didn’t realize the time passed by.” She doesn’t let go of the hug. “Please say something.” She burrows her head in your neck.

You wrap your arms around her back and feel her soften up in your arms. “I know you’re trying. You try every day to be your best not just for me, but for yourself too and that’s what I love about you. So it’s okay, I understand. Just can we put work aside this once and focus on each other?” She looks back at you with sparkles in her eyes and holds your hands.

“Really? You don’t want to scrap the whole thing?” She asks, cautious she fucked things up this time.

“No, of course not!” You get up as the look of shock still lingers on her face. “Common the waves are going to get cold soon!” You pull her hand as you get up and run to the waters. Laughter trailing behind you as you meet the waves again with your feet. The waves make you now realize that every relationship has its highs and lows, but the beauty of a relationship is working through those lows.

A/N: writing about women instead of doing my home work >>

#genshin women x reader #genshin wlw #genshin impact #beidou #kokomi #genshin yelan #yelan #yelan x reader #yelan genshin impact #ei genshin #raiden #raiden shogun #raiden genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin hcs #genshin imagines

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mrsstarkey1 · 1 year

Text

approval - jj maybank

REQUEST: "could u write a lil fic where reader is dating JJ secretly and she's toppers sister??? and he finds out and gets all mad - it can end however u want! thanks" requested by @sofiatheseconf

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

WARNINGS: curse words

a/n: check out my most recent jj fic

“Shh, will you be quiet?” you whisper-yelled to JJ as he practically stomped up the stairs in your house. “My mom and Topper are here,” you said sternly as you closed your bedroom door quietly.

He rolled his eyes, letting himself fall down on your bed. “Maybe we should just tell Topper,” he said with a shrug and your eyes snapped to him, giving him a look that just screamed, 'absolutely not.'

You laid down next to him with a sigh, “as much as I hate sneaking around all the time, I think I would hate having my boyfriend murdered by my brother more.”

“You have a decent point,” he said, followed by a dramatic sigh. “I just want the world to know about us.”

You turned toward him, eyebrow raised, “the world?”

JJ rolled his eyes, “you know what I mean.”

“I know,” you said softly, turning yourself over to look at him. “I don’t love it either, but you gotta admit, the risk of getting caught is a little thrilling, isn’t it?” You said slowly, tracing the skin under his t-shirt.

He let a smirk play at his lips, nodding slowly. He re-positioned his body so he was hovering over you. You propped yourself up on your elbows, kissing him hungrily. He moved down to your neck, planting wet kisses down to your collarbone.

“Hey y/n, Mom wants to know if-” you instinctively pushed JJ off of you at the sound of Topper's voice, and JJ landed on the floor with a thud. “What the fuck?” Toppers familiar angry voice echoed through the your now dead-silent room.

Your eyes stayed widened in a state of shock, eyes flickering between the two boys in front of you. “I was wrong, this is not thrilling,” you mumbled to yourself.

JJ shot up off the floor, and Topper snapped out of his shock and started toward him. You pushed yourself off the bed quickly, hurriedly blocking Topper from your JJ. “Wait, wait.”

“What the fuck is going on in here y/n?” you opened your mouth to speak, “actually no, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But whatever it was, it’s over.”

“You can’t be serious,” you said with a scoff.

“I’m more than serious, I don’t want to see that pogue around you ever again. Understand? I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

He was not kidding. Over the next couple weeks, where ever you went, he went. Where ever you ate, he ate. Where ever you shopped, he sat on the bench outside the store. He even watched your tennis practices. He would practically hiss at every pogue who even came within 10 feet of you. Even when he wasn’t with you, he had one of his dumbass friends watching your every move as if you were a child that needed babysat.

You’d been annoyed by your brother before, obviously, but this took it to a whole new level. You were furious.

Though he watched you like a hawk when you were out and about, he somehow never thought to watch you when you were home. Once you realized he hadn’t checked on you in your room once, JJ started to sneak into your room almost every night. It was baffling that Topper hadn’t figured it out yet.

He would sneak in through your window around 9:00 every night, so it was dark enough so he wouldn’t be seen but light enough so he could see what he was doing.

One night that planned to come over, he had fallen asleep unwillingly. He didn’t wake up until midnight with about a million missed texts and calls from you. He threw on a shirt quickly sent a short text before heading to your place.

He climbed up to the roof, paying more attention to his feet on the slick roof from the rain, rather than to where he was going. He held his hand out until he found glass, knocking on it softly.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” JJ heard a loud, muffled voice from the other side of the window that definitely wasn’t yours.

“Fuck.”

The window opened abruptly and JJ was pulled into the room, landing on the wood floor. “Didn’t learn your lesson, pogue?” Topper yelled, standing over JJ fully ready to beat the hell out of him.

JJ held up his hands in surrender, “just let me explain, alright?”

“Explain what? That you’ve been sneaking into my little sisters room to-” he scrunched his nose in disgust, shaking his head. “To do God knows what.”

JJ pushed himself off the floor and onto his feet, “listen, we’re not just having-” he stopped when he saw Toppers glare. “Sorry,” he mumbled, mentally cursing himself. “We've been dating for three months, Topper. It’s not just a meaningless fling, it’s serious.”

Topper stayed silent, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought. JJ continued to plead his case, “I know we don’t have a great history, okay? But I don’t even care about any of that anymore. I love her man,” JJ admitted quietly, saying the words out loud for the first time.

Toppers head snapped up, meeting JJ’s eyes and searching for sincerity. He took a step closer, taking in a breath. JJ didn’t move a muscle, doing his best to appear confident.

“Just so you know, I don’t like what I’m about to say. But I love my sister, and I want her to be happy,” Topper started, jaw clenched. “One chance; you get one chance. You break her heart, and you’re gonna have a lot more broken.”

JJ nodded, holding out his hand for Topper to shake, “I’d never hurt her,” he said simply, obvious genuineness laced in his voice.

Topper firmly shook his hand with a short nod.

You peaked your head around Toppers opened door with a smile, deciding it was okay to reveal yourself now. You had heard the entire conversation, including a certain phrase that you couldn’t wait to say back to JJ.

taglist(lmk if u want added): @rafes-bae @willowpains @housekeeperjjswife @addisbooks @rafecameronsofine @sofiatheseconf @rosie-anne

REQUESTS OPEN !!!

check out my obx masterlist

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iambabygorl · 1 year

Text

The Heroes Mansion

Hawks Version

Synopsis: Living in a house with multiple heroes makes for an interesting day to day experience.

Warnings: drama, violence, 18+ content

*******************************************************

You had been invited to live in the heroes mansion along with a few other graduates from UA.

The hero society had plucked you, Momo, Bakugo, Midoriya, Todoroki and Mina from the lineup of new heroes and threw you all into the mansion like an episode of the bachelor or big brother. It was honestly like a reality show.

However, you had to admit that it was fun. You were living with famous heroes and hot people after all!

While there weren’t cameras pointed at you watching your every move, or daily confessions in a closet to a camera or taping crew, it still felt like you were always being watched.

But that wasn’t so bad. For example, it was nice when coming home from a rough patrol and having someone(s) rushing to you to aid your wounds.

Like today for example

It has been an especially rough patrol and because there weren’t any medical staff left to tend to you, you had sucked up your pain and agony and slowly limped your way home, blood dripping from your forehead and stomach from the deep gash and the stab wound. Your vision was blurred and your balance was off as you clung to any surface that offered you any kind of support.

You swallowed, trying to wet your dry throat, but that only resulted in blood being coughed up and onto your shoes and the pavement around.

You hadn’t realized you’d made it to the gated entrance to the mansion yet. You wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for the footsteps and distant voices yelling your name as they ran to bring you inside.

You swayed as an arm went under your right arm, careful to not touch your leaking wound.

“Hey there, doll. You’ve got a nasty cut right there. One on your head too. Hopefully they didn’t mess up this pretty face of yours, huh? C’mon. Let’s get you inside.”

You hummed at the voice, trying to pinpoint who it was that guided you up the stairs into the entrance. The next thing you knew you were being gentle laid down onto a stainless steel table and your hero suit was being cut off.

“Okay boys out! Let them work. Y/N would probably appreciate the privacy as well. We will let you know when ever she’s awake-”

The voice faded out. Darkness over took you as you felt the pinch of a needle in your arm.

You didn’t remember anything other than waking up abruptly from the darkness. You could see that you were in the mansion. You must have been in the infirmary in the west wing. The cot you were laying on was of all white linens and white curtains surrounded you on all sides except for behind you where the ceiling length window stretched high above you. Rain pelted the window and the cloudy skies barely illuminated the room you were in.

“Oh! You’re finally awake. Everyone will be pleased to hear this. Welcome back to the land of the living, ma’am.”

The nurse quickly closed the curtain back as he scurried off. You heard muffled talking in the distance and quick footsteps hurried closer to where you lay and the curtain was quickly ripped open to display your friends.

“Y/N! We thought you were going to die! Why the hell did you walk home from patrol after losing a quart of blood?? Are you insane??” Mina declared as she threw herself to your side, slightly shaking your shoulders which caused you to wince and grab your side where the stab wound was.

“Geez, Mina, chill. I’m still sore. How long have I been out?”

“Just two days. They said it might take a week or more. You bled a lot. Hawks said you were like a leaky faucet when he found you, idiot. You stained the concrete out front and the wood floors in the entrance. So like pinky said, what the hell made you think that walking home with an injury like that was a good idea??” Bakugo said as he crossed his arms. He stood at the end of your bed and flared down at you, his eyebrows creased to make harsh lines between his eyes.

So it was Hawks that found me…

“I just- it was a rough night. The medics were all preoccupied. It wasn’t THAT far of a walk. There were civilians that needed help-”

“Still, you should have waited where there were people that could help you. If you lost much more blood you could have bled out on the streets. You could have died, Y/N.” Midoriya said as he got teary eyed.

You apologized over and over. You yourself got teary eyed as Momo and Mina tried their best to climb into bed to hold onto you and cried at the thought of losing a friend. Midoriya stayed by your side and held your hand as Bakugo and Todoroki filled you in on what you missed while you were out.

You stayed like that for a little over an hour before your nurse came back in to take your vitals and give you medicine. You said your farewells to everyone and promised to get better as they all walked out one by one, leaving you, the nurse, and Midoriya to be the last to leave.

“Oh yeah, before I forget, Hawks said he wants to patrol with you for a while.” He said as he gave you a soft smile and said goodbye once more before walking away.

Hawks wants to patrol with me? That means I’d move to day patrol right?

You were lost in thought as the nurse did his job of checking your vitals. He handed you a small cup of medicine and a juice as he sat down in the chair beside you to watch you as you took the pills.

“You know, Hawks stayed outside the room the entire time we sewed you up. I heard them tell you he’s the one who found you and all. He seemed to be very worried.” He said with a smirk.

“Really? Why would he be?” You asked as you lifted an eyebrow. You thought it was sweet but you weren’t sure why he cared so much.

“Oh, hon, that boy has got to have a crush on you! I’d place my money on that.”

It took you another 3 days before you were ready to start patrol again.

Hawks was there waiting once you got your new suit pulled on. He greeted you with a “hey doll! Glad to see that pretty face isn’t messed up too bad” and you both set out as he flew slowly above you as you leaped from building to building

One time he saw you wince and he was immediately down beside you checking you out

“Hey, doll that was a hard landing just then. Take it a little easier. It’s your first day back.” He said as he reached out to brush his fingers on your side where the stitches would be.

“I’m fine. I don’t even think I tore a stitch. Besides, it’s a slow day. I need to work out the soreness as much as possible.”

Hawks visibly deflated at your words.

“Oh no…you just said those forbidden words….”

You looked at him in confusion as you reached up to readjust the mask to your suit.

What words?

The next thing you know, the sound of an alarm blared through the area as someone shouted for help.

Oh….the forbidden words…

Hawks sighed as he lifted up in flight. “I told ya! You never say it’s a slow day when it’s being a slow day. That’s how you lose something good. Cmon, let’s go save the day and all!”

He took a sharp turn straight down, flying straight towards the streets below and stopped himself by spreading his wings as wide as they’d go to slow down just before smacking the pavement. He looked up at you and waved you on as he took off in the direction the villain had gone.

“Show off….” You muttered to yourself as you began to follow him from above.

It was like this for four more weeks

You and hawks (or Keigo, you called him now because he trusted you enough to call him by name)

You both had grown close in your weeks together. Your quirks worked together very nicely (his-fierce wings and yours- elemental manipulations)

His flirty behavior was well known in the media. He’d flirt with reporters, fans, even other heroes. He was definitely what your grandma would call “a ladies man”

However, you weren’t ready for all the things he would say to YOU

“Well good morning, sunshine. You look lovely today.” “The gods have graced me with your presence and I am forever grateful.” “Your beauty is truly beyond compare, Y/N.” “Want to fly with me today? I’ll hold your hand the entire time if you’re scared.” “I’d be a fool to drop a girl like you.”

“You’re bleeding. Let me get that for you.” He said one day when you cut your finger and he stuck it in his mouth to lick off the blood. That one really shocked you.

“Sore? Need help taking off your suit? Maybe help washing your back in the shower? I have nothing else to do.” He said one day after you had been thrown into a brick pillar by a villain. He has noticed you wincing as you reached back to unzip your suit. He had walked over behind you and placed your hair over your shoulder, tracing his fingers up your spine to the zipper and slowly zipping it down to the middle of your back. His gentle fingers caused chill bumps to raise on your skin. You had closed your eyes and hummed at the touch. It felt nice to be touched. Keigo had responded to your sounds and had placed the hand that was on the zipper around your waist, bringing you a step back so your back was resting against his front. His lips grazed the skin by your ear and you had sucked in a breath as you felt him harden against your ass. You jumped back into reality and stepped away. You had avoided him the rest of that day, feeling awkward after the moment you shared in the bathroom.

His words were smooth and stuck with you. They echoed in your head all the time and clouded your thoughts. When you both patrolled together, he’d be mostly professional surprisingly

However, once the shift ended, he would begin trying to work you up again

Today was no different

You both had just gotten back to the mansion. It was 6 PM and you groaned as you shoved the door open and drug your feet to the kitchen. You threw the refrigerator door open and groaned once again as you closed it back.

You turned to Keigo who had just placed himself on one of the bar stools across the counter. You threw your upper body to lay across the counter, causing the man to chuckle as your forehead smacked the granite surface.

“We literally live in a mansion with an entire medical wing. HOW do we not have any cooks here too to cook us delicious meals for when we get home from a 12 hour shift??” You complained as Keigo chuckled once more, reaching over to brush the loose hairs out of your face.

“Yeah, unfortunately we can’t be totally coddled. Bless our hearts. We have to cook our own meals. How terribly mundane!” The man exclaimed as he slid off the stool and walked around the counter to wrap his arms around your waist.

“Yo, what are you doing?” You asked as he pulled you off of the counter. You didn’t see when he had grabbed the apron, but he held you up as he slipped the top half over your neck and reached around behind you to tie the back strings.

“I am making you help me cook. I’m also using this as an excuse to be close to you and pretend I’m hugging you.” He said with a wink as he began to pull away. However, you reached out to stop him, reaching out to grab the other apron.

“Not so fast, whore. You need an apron too. You’re not leaving me to cook just for you. And no, this is not a hug.” You said as you pulled the strings around his waist a little tighter than required.

Keigo jumped at the force of the pull, which resulted in him bumping his abdomen and pelvis into yours.

“Woah there, a little rough aren’t we?” He said with a nervous laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Is it? I’m sorry, I thought you’d like it rough.” You said, brushing it off as you went to the cabinets to begin pulling out spices and tools you’d need to prepare the meal.

The man’s eyes widened as he went to speak, but choked on his words instead and started coughing.

Being the man that he is, he didn’t want you to get away with making him speechless. So what did he do? Let me tell you.

He saw that you were leaned over grabbing ingredients out of the fridge so he took this as his opportunity to walk over to you and place a hand on the skin that was exposed on your waist. With his other hand, he rubbed up your back into your hair and grabbed a fist full as he pulled you up straight so your bodies were flush against each other.

“You don’t know just how rough I like it, do you doll?”

You felt your heart beat in your throat as you swallowed the thick lump that had formed there. You shouldn’t have been surprised that this is where Keigo took things, but you weren’t sure how many times this needed to happen for you to get used to the feeling of his dick hardening as he ground his hips into your ass. It felt good. He felt good.

But in your eyes, it was all part of the “Hawks” persona.

The two of you had finished cooking the meal and ate together at the bar.

You had grown used to his teasing, making it easier for you to spit back your own comebacks to his sexual and non sexual advances

You saw them as harmless. You told yourself that’s just how Keigo was. He was a flirt. He was always horny. Horny for anyone and anything. If it breathed and blinked, he was into it.

However, you didn’t see that all that had changed when you started patrolling together. Your friends did see it though

“Y/N, do you like Hawks?”

You were in Todoroki’s room painting your nails as he read a book when he has randomly looked up at you and asked the question.

“Yeah, I do like him. He’s a great hero and a good friend.”

Todoroki closed his book and turned his body to face yours.

“No, I mean like, LIKE like. Like, would you date him?”

You let out a laugh and held your hand out to examine the fresh coat of red you had just applied to your nails.

“I don’t know. He’s kind of an ass. I think he’s too much of a playboy for me. I don’t even think he’d want to settle for just me even if I did like him like that.”

Shoto nodded as he scooted closer to you.

“Y/N, would you feel anything if I kissed you then?”

“Huh-?” Your question was cut off as the man leaned over and kissed you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

What the??

You pushed your hands between the two of you to his chest and shoved him off of you.

“Shoto?! What the hell!? What was that all about??” You shouted as you touched your lips.

“I just wanted to see how you would react. Where did your mind go when I kissed you? What were you feeling?”

“Shock?! What else should I feel? We are friends! You can’t just randomly kiss your friends!” You exclaimed to the man.

“I didn’t know. But what else did you feel? Did it feel wrong? Like it shouldn’t be me kissing you?”

You shook your head in confusion as you muttered rubbish. Of course the kiss didn’t feel right. Todoroki was one of your best friends.

But was that the only reason? It couldn’t be. If that was the only reason that it felt wrong, why did you feel guilty? Why did it feel like you had made a mistake that would disappoint someone?

“You didn’t like that I kissed you. It felt wrong because it was with the wrong person. I think we both know who you wanted to kiss instead of me.”

You closer your eyes, hanging your head as you placed your face into your hands and chuckled.

“You might be right. You’re a strange one, Sho, but somehow whatever your method was worked.”

He smiled at you softly as he watched you stand, walking out of the room with a big smile on your face as you went to search for your man.

“Anything for you, Y/N. Anything for you to be happy.” He whispered to himself as his smile fell and his head hung low.

You searched the mansion high and low. It was your day off from patrol which usually meant Keigo would be home as well, but he was nowhere to be found.

That meant there was one last place to check.

You walked outside the mansion and stomped your foot on the earth below your feet, causing the ground beneath you to rise and push you up along with it. You stopped the earth once you reached the top of the mansion where you saw the familiar wings gracing the back of the blonde man you had been searching for.

“Keigo!” You shouted as you leaped on to the roof and walked towards the man who was leaned against the ledge of the roof. He turned his head to you, sucked in mouth and he gave you his charming smile.

“Hey, doll. If I had known you were looking for me, I would have hid better.” He said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes as you stopped beside him. You shoulder brushed with his as he turned around, leaning his back against the ledge as he eyed you from the side.

“I can’t believe you didn’t have a comeback for that.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. I have something on my mind.”

Keigo’s interest was peaked. “Oh? Penny for your thoughts?” You sighed as you turned to place him.

Instead of words, you opted for just going for it. You reached out, grabbing the sucked from his mouth and grabbing his collar with your other hand. You pulled him down to meet your lips.

Keigo’s eyes remained open in surprise as he adjusted to your height difference. He slowly closed his eyes as he reached a hand to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss, humming into the kiss as he pulled you closer.

After a minute or so of this, you pulled away, breathing heavy from lack of air. You looked up to meet his hooded gaze. Your cheeks were flushed and you laughed slightly as you took the sucker in your hand, plopping it into your mouth and sending a wink at him.

“I like you, birdbrain. Come find me if you want to talk about that.”

And with that, you left a very aroused Keigo on the rooftop by himself as he quickly jumped off the ledge to search for the woman who he also had feelings for.

I mean, she did take his favorite flavor of sucker….

#bnha x reader #mha fluff #mha x reader #mha smut #mha imagines #hawks headcanons #mha hawks #hawks smut #hawks x reader #keigo takami smut #keigo takami x reader #keigo imagine #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #keigo takami imagine #mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #keigo takami headcanons

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a018233 · 22 days

Text

Captor! Yandere! Eli Clark headcannons .

Tw: Yandere content, Stockholm syndrome(?), Victim blameish, GN reader.

AN: you guys.. should totally fill my request box.

• Eli tries to justify this, saying how dangerous the world is. Telling you how he can't protect you if your out there.

• Eli loves you, and he wants you to love him just as much as he loves you!

• He knows what he's doing is wrong, but he can't help himself!

• Eli loves you so much it hurts, he eats, sleeps, and breathes for you. He wants you to do the same for him..

• He's feels like God himself is punishing him when you scream and hurl insults at him, when you look at him with both horror and disgust. But he's sure you'll return his feelings soon enough.

• In hopes of making you return his affections, he'd let you have free roam of his home. Of course, with the windows and doors bolted and various locks.

• I don't think he'd keep you restrained with any bindings. He wants you to feel as if this was your home as much as his.

• But if you were to try to escape? That's another story.

• To say he's disappointed would be an understatement. He'd use chains, long enough to walk around, but not long enough to escape.

• You lose some privileges you didn't realize was luxuries previously.

• He used to respect your boundaries by letting you have your own bed, trusting you enough to bathe yourself and dress yourself.

• But now, he sleeps alongside you, spooning you, the chains are off, but your hands and ankles are tied together with soft cotton binds.

• You can't even bathe or dress yourself, he does it for you. You have zero control of your life. He even tries to brush your teeth for you.

• You began to feel immense regret as your seated naked in front of of Eli in the bathtub, he'll hum to you as he messages your scalp with shampoo.

• He thought that you'd fall for him the more this goes on, but he could feel his heartstrings snap when you recoil from his touch.

• Why can't you love him? He's been oh so very patient, hasn't he?

• He tries to cheer you up by bringing you little tickets from town, maybe some pastries too.

• But nothing works, you don't even scream obscenities anymore . You have that vacant look, like your always somewhere else.

• He just wants you to react, to anything. Even if it's hatred towards him. But you don't even have the energy for that.

• He tries to give back your 'luxuries', letting you sleep in your own space, letting you bathe and dress yourself. But you don't even have the motivation to eat these days.

• Now you need him, but even then you still don't *want* him.

• Eli doesn't want to remove your chains or binds, but eventually, he does. Giving you free roam.

• Your eight month anniversary is coming up, your still distant. But at least you aren't spending the majority of the day rotting in bed.

• As a little reward, Eli places an order for a cake with some literature books. He kisses your hand before departing.

• As usual, you only ever wander around the house when he's not here. He's like hawk when you do.

• the soft pitter patter of rain hitting the window. Another ugly depressing day.

• But that's when you spot it, a way out. A window that was unlocked. A window that wasn't fucking deadbolted. This isn't a trick, is it?

• You waste no time before sliding through the window, you took quite a fall, you didn't even bother to grab your shoes.

• You'd wince as you stepped on rocks, sticks, you couldn't care less if your foot was bleeding or not. It didn't matter if it hurt with each step you took. You were out, free. You were actually outside.

• The white clothing Eli gave you all wet and stained with dirt from slipping on the mud, your hair wet from the pouring rain. You couldn't care where you were running, you just needed to get far, far from him. The only real danger was that captor of yours.

• That is until you found yourself face to face with a wolf. It snarls as it corners you.

• The moment your have your freedom back, your faced with death. It was a cruel joke, a cruel joke from life.

• Your going to be ripped to shreds, to unrecognizable pieces of flesh. All because you couldn't stay put.

• The world is dangerous, maybe you should've stayed put. You can't tell if your paralyzed by fear, or if you exhausted yourself from running so much. Even if you could run, you can't even move from all the fear. Genuine fear.

• Fear you've never felt before, you should've stayed put, stayed put in that house you despised so much. Your gonna die, because you couldn't listen.

• Before the wolf could come any closer, a flare goes off. Scaring off the wolf elsewhere.

• Your so exhausted, tired, your eyes watering from relief. To turn to your savior, Eli.

"Are you okay my love? What did I say about leaving? This world is dangerous..--" Before Eli could scold you more, all you could do was sob and fall into his arms, clinging tightly to him after your scare with death.

All he could do was smile, finally. You realized you wanted him, that you needed to be with him. He's the only one who can protect you in this world.

• After your little brush in with death, you put up no fight. Eli wraps his robes around you, carrying you bridal style back home.

• A nice warm shared bath soon follows, filled with suds and bath salts. Your sniffles echoed in the bathroom as he washes you throughly.

• Eli dresses you up in comfortable pajamas, then lays you down in bed. Before he could leave, your found yourself clinging deathly tight to him. Asking him not to leave, much to his surprise as much yours.

Eli's expression softened as your grip tightened around his wrist, so much it was hurting him. Before he could ask what's wrong, he heard the words he never thought he'd hear.

"Please stay.." You whispered through quiet sobs and hiccups, poor you. You hadn't stopped crying from the moment he found you.

Who is he to turn down his beloved? Eli hums in response before joining you under the covers. Wrapping his arms around you, spooning you as you willingly buried your face against his chest. Your tears staining his shirt.

"See? I told you the world is dangerous, as long you remain here, with me. Your safe. That's what you get for not listening, now, now. Go to sleep, alright my love?" He didn't mean to smile, he couldn't help it. Now Eli was certain you wouldn't want to be leaving. It's only a matter of time before you return his feelings.

#identity v x reader #idv x reader #seer x reader #eli clark x reader #yandere eli clark #yandere identity v #yandere idv #౨ৎ. seer

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thecuriousquest · 6 months

Note

Can I please request a scenario where Yandere Levi uses his power and influence to threaten and force civillian reader into marrying him. Like maybe he threatens that if she doesn't agree then he will harm her family or something? She has no choice but to agree. Can I also get a NSFW (non-con) of their wedding night please.

That Fateful Night

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnugs-blog

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, non con, forced marriage, threats of harm, slapping, hair pulling, nudity, cock warming, edging, virginity loss, blood

Bruh, sorry if this is so fucking long.

Master List here.

—————————————————————————

If you hadn’t have gone out that day…if you had just stayed inside! It was raining, and you couldn’t find your stubborn mutt. You couldn’t just leave him out there in the cold, damp winter.

———

(Flashback)

You take to the streets with a shawl wrapped around your shoulders and hair, kept tightly to your chest with one hand, covering the cleavage your breasts. With your other, you raise the lantern, your shoes pattering against the wet streets of the village.

You begin shaking, not having the slightest idea where he might be.

“Shrügar! Shrügar!” You call out for your damned beast. That little pig of a hound is going to get it when you find him!

As the minutes tick by, horribly slowly, you feel the anger dissipate from your chest, and all you can feel is the burning in your nose as tears well up in your eyes.

What if he’s dead? What if he’s hurt? What if someone has found him and has tucked him away in their home for their own keeping?

“SHRÜGAR!!!” You fall to your knees, chest heaving with despair.

That mutt…that damned mutt that wormed his way into your heart. He was the last birthday gift you ever received from your mother before she died during a Titan attack.

“Well, I guess I can safely assume that all of your wailing is over this dog?”

Opening your eyes, you look up from the ground.

A not at all tall man, but still extremely handsome with his structured bones and hawk-like gray eyes, stands in front of you holding your forty pound dog in his arms.

Of course his tongue is hanging out happily. Damned mutt.

You stand up, the tears rushing now with joy and relief. You take Shrügar from his arms, cuddling him closely.

“Sir…thank you! Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this little fellow means to me. Can I offer something in return for bringing him back to me?”

“Well, it’s rather cold, isn’t it? Do you have any tea?”

So, like a good hearted young lady, you bring him back to your house for tea. You remove your shawl, setting it aside to hang on a hook. You busy yourself in the kitchen, offering the man a seat at the table. You notice how he takes the head of it.

“My father is upstairs sleeping. He’s practically deaf though. He could never hear anything over his own snores to begin with,” you laugh intrinsically.

He likes the way your wet dress sticks to your body as you move about with the tea kettle. He can’t help but notice the droplets of rain water clinging to your collarbones, rolling down your chest, catching at the tops of your breasts. The way they build into little beads until they are forced to move with the curve of your ample bosom, catching in your cleavage, soaked up by the shirt beneath your corset.

Your dog waits idly by the man’s feet with his tongue hanging out.

You offer him the tea cup once it’s done and take a seat of your own next to him.

Something stirs with worry from your oh-so good heart. “How far away do you live?”

The man drinks his tea in a rather odd way before answering you. He holds the cup by the rim, and you think it’s unique…endearing almost. He tells you, as briefly as possible, that he’s a military man, so he lives on base.

“If it’s too late, we have a spare bedroom you could take for the night. I will admit, it’s not exactly the best kept room. We rarely use it, and we weren’t expecting any guests tonight.”

He wants to look you in the eyes coldly and tell you that he has no interest in sleeping in some germ ridden wasteland of dust.

But he sees the genuine concern on your face, and it stirs his cock, makes it twitch, makes him a little excited.

“Please, it’s the least I can do for you.”

And then, you grab his cold hand with your warm one. How you managed to warm up faster than him? He’ll never know.

But he likes your hand on him in a pleading manner. Likes watching your brows knit as you try to convince him that it’s much too wet and cold to be walking so far.

“You don’t even know my name, yet you’re inviting me to stay the night?” Is all he asks, all he responds with, all he can think to say.

“I…I guess I didn’t think to ask. What is your name?”

“Levi Ackerman, Captain of the Survey Corps.”

Your lips turn up at the corners in a smile, and he wishes you would pout again.

What would it be like to see you cry? Are you pretty when you cry? Does your chest bounce with each heaving sob? Do you look defeated?

His cock twitches again.

“Well, Captain, I’m Y/N L/N, owner of the bookshop down the street.”

Oh, how he delights in this more than he cares for.

“I’ll have to visit sometime. I’ve never really had the time to explore this village.”

“I’d be more than happy to show you around.” You squeeze his hand before letting go.

He has the impulse to grab yours, to press a kiss against the back of your hand, to feel how his lips would mold to the flesh of your knuckles. He refuses to act on such a whim, far too graceful to let himself sink this quickly into your deep waters.

And true to his word, he stays the night. And even more so, when he does return to your little village a month later, he finds you shuffling around the store holding a pile of books with Shrügar on a blanket in the corner.

You’re already up and up the ladder by the time Levi reaches you.

Fuck, he can see up your dress.

You little vixen.

With all of the books in one arm, you shelf them correctly. You don’t even notice him.

“Having fun?”

He scares the hell out of you, and you wobble, and you fall off the ladder.

Levi’s eyes widen, catching you with both arms. He looks at you intensely.

“You little brat! You could’ve hurt yourself if I hadn’t been here!”

“…but you were, and I’m so grateful!” You wrap your hands around his neck, not letting his scolding bother you at all.

Levi huffs and lets you down. He helps you collect the books strewn across the floor from your not-so-elegant fall.

“It seems I owe you again for saving my life.”

“You might not be safe from a thrashing though,” he grumbles.

“Hmmm?” You hear something mumbled, but you can’t quite make it out.

“I suppose a book will do,” his voice is clear now.

You give him one of the classical genre for free after he specifically asks for you to surprise him.

“I just thought you might enjoy it is all. It’s one of my favorites.”

He hums and nods, petting Shrügar on the head.

He whines when Levi withdraws his hand.

“How is your father?”

The mentioning of your father brings a smile to your face. “Father is quite well! He’s up and walking. He’s having one of his good days. I’m really happy when he has his good days. He’s even remembering Mother a bit. That makes me sad because he’s wondering where she is, but…you know…at least he’s remembering the love of his life.”

And then, so as not to be rude because you never, ever want to be rude, you ask how his parents are fairing. Things become silent…awkwardly.

“My parents are dead.”

You cover your mouth with both hands, dropping the book.

Levi only looks down at the leather bound book with a stern gaze.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t know. Oh, Levi…”

You’re too good hearted for your own good.

Levi wills the tears to come to your eyes, but just as he sees them glisten slightly, you push them back, and his cock sits in his trousers sadly.

“How would you? You didn’t know them. We’re not even from the same place.”

You crouch down to pick up the fallen book, and Levi gets a quick peek at your cleavage. He takes the book from you and simply smirks at your frown.

“Well, it’s still sad. I don’t know what I’d do without my father. I already lost my mother during a Titan attack. I miss her so much. Do you miss your mother?”

Not only so good natured, but also too damn curious. Levi can’t help but chuckle, and you’re oblivious to his intent behind the laughter.

He reaches out past your ear, grabbing the back of your head. He pulls your foreheads close together in an intimate manner, but it’s as far as he goes.

“I think you’re too much of a good girl for your own good.”

It’s so…out of nowhere. You don’t understand what he’s talking about.

Swallowing a thick buildup of saliva down your throat, you gulp over the knot.

“Thank you?” Is it a compliment? An insult? He called you a “good girl”, but what does he mean by any of this?

When he lets go of you, he turns around immediately to leave. “I’ll be seeing you around, brat. Don’t go falling off of shitty ladders anytime soon.”

It’s so odd to you. All of it. Everything. The walk home with Shrügar is odd. Cooking dinner for you and your father is odd.

It’s as if there are eyes on you, but you don’t know for certain. You aren’t sure where the eyes are.

Maybe, it’s Mother watching over you. That thought is more settling, and you relax your shoulders.

Once a week, Levi comes to see you at your bookshop in the tiny village far away just down the street from his favorite tea shop. You’re doing the finances when he walks in, and you see Shrügar patter over to Levi for a scratch behind the ears.

You look at them with a smile. Rounding the register, you walk over to Levi. You’re not sure whether to hug him or give him a small peck on the cheek. He’s so familiar, yet so distant. You can never get a good reading on your relationship, even as the months pass.

“Hello, Captain,” you draw out the last word, loving to tease him over something as much as an honorary title.

“Hello, brat,” he returns.

“I’m not a brat,” you pout at him.

“That’s funny because you’re always a little brat around me.”

He loves to tease you right back.

“I have another free book for you.”

“Did you pick it out?” he inquires.

“As always since you’re too lazy to do it yourself.”

He shakes his head, holding back a retort, allowing you to place the leather bound book in his hand. Another classic, a different author.

Another treasure.

“I liked the last one. The politics was a nice mirror of society.” He always tries to talk about the books he gives to you, but he can never find the right things to say about it without sounding like he’s writing an essay.

You two go on for a while, it’s mostly you doing the talking. He likes listening though. He’s good at listening. Good at chiming in for short comments here and there.

And then, he’s so bold towards you again like the time he grabbed you by the back of your neck.

This time, he grabs your hand and pulls you closer to him. He says nothing. His eyes closed. He simply breathes you in. Breathes in the scent of your hair and skin. Breathes in the lingering fruit on your lips.

You smell so goddamn delicious. Everything about you is just so fucking delectable.

He can’t help the chaste kiss against your collarbone. The slick lining of his tongue against your flesh as he drags it upward, nipping at a soft spot on your neck.

However, you worry. You’re in public, in an open bookshop that you own! Pushing him away, you step back.

“Levi…I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…”

Oh fuck, you’re horrible with conflict. You shrivel up on the inside, hesitating with what you want to say and how to say it so as not to upset the man who has done so much for you.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, Levi. I thought we were just very good friends.”

“Friends?” The word in his mouth is sour like spoiled milk.

He grabs your wrist again, harder this time, enough to bruise. You whine under his hold, trying to pry his fingers off of you.

“If you were my friend, then why would you give me so many free books? Why would you wear such low cut dresses every time I see you? Why would you offer for me to spend the night every time I come to this shitty little place?”

He shatters your heart like a mirror thrown on the floor.

“I…I never…”

“You never what? Thought you could get away with dressing like a whore? Thought I wouldn’t be attracted to a pretty little thing like you all wet in the streets with your tits out?”

Your tears fall, and they keep falling, and they don’t stop no matter how much Levi keeps going, his words digging the shard of broken glass straight into your broken heart.

Your tears are what drives his tongue to whip you with such cruelty. You don’t even know it. If you could pull yourself together and stop crying, then he would stand up straight and unhand you, but you’re too much of a good girl, such a good hearted person on the sensitive side of femininity.

You can’t force the tears to stop in his verbal berating. You don’t even know if they will ever stop on their own.

And Shrügar, the poor fucking idiot is happily napping in the corner while you’re sobbing your miserable heart out.

You crumple to your knees, Levi’s grasp still like a vice around your squeezed flesh. Never have you felt this humiliated in your life, this horrible on the inside.

He’s admonishing you for leading him on, but you didn’t even know.

“So now, you’re going to fix this.” And he goes silent.

You look up at him, shivering and hitching with a wail that wants so desperately to flee from your salty lips.

“H-how?”

He leers at you, and you shrink back uncomfortably.

“I know you’re a virgin. Too fucking sweet to let anyone else be that close to you. You’re going to make it up by giving it to me.”

“I…I can’t! Levi, please, you’re my friend!”

A slap rings out across the shop, but your dog sleeps like a rock. You press your hand against your cheek, frozen with fear, wincing in pain as he switches his grip from your wrist to your locks of hair. He fists them angrily, cruelly, sadistically.

“We are not friends, you dumb little shit. If I have to marry you to make you do this, I fucking will, but I’ll have you in my bed either way.”

You shake your head at the prospect. It scares you more than anything.

His clutch on your tresses loosens only slightly, trying to force you to focus on what he has to say next.

“Your father, he’s so old. So brittle. Bad things can happen to old people pretty quickly. No, we want him to go peacefully from natural causes, don’t we?”

His question isn’t really a question to you. It’s one of those trick questions your mother always used to ask you when she was upset with you over something.

Still, you shake your head. You don’t want anything bad happening to your father!

“It’s pretty easy for dogs to wind up badly injured these days, or even worse…” he lets his sentence trail off.

You cry helplessly, mewling with moans and sobs again.

Levi swipes away a tear with the pad of his thumb and licks it off of his finger. And just like he knew it would be, the salty droplet is so fucking palatable.

“Please, I don’t…I can’t! I don’t want anything bad happening to my father or Shrügar! Please, Levi, please?”

He likes how your breasts heave up and down with each sharp breath, each heavy sob. He loves how your lips are wet and pouty, your cheeks red and coated with tears. Your glistening orbs surrounded by damp and clumpy lashes.

He knew seeing you cry, really cry, deep and gritty sobs, shaking with heartbreak. He knew this was the sight he had been imagining all those months ago.

And fuck it makes him harder than a rock.

He laughs at you, a dark chuckle from where he’s on one knee in front of you. He cups your red cheeks with both hands, bringing your foreheads close together.

“Then, you’ll marry me?”

And utterly defeated, you accept his proposal.

(End flashback)

———

These are the thoughts you sit with as Levi undoes the corset of your wedding dress. It’s simple, nothing fancy. He likes simple things on you.

You step out of the dress, crossing your arms over your bare breasts.

He can’t believe he’s seeing them in person now. The beauty of you is so ethereal, made for him and his eyes alone.

He dips a finger into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down slowly, letting them pool around your ankles. Like a true gentleman, he gives you his hand to hold onto, helping you step out of them.

Naked before him, at your most vulnerable, you watch him undress as well. You’re surprised by how hard he is when he removes his trousers. It’s nothing you didn’t expect having immersed yourself in romance novels on lonely nights. However, you just weren’t expecting him to be so big.

“Will it hurt?” That curiosity comes creeping up your throat.

And that sadistic glint in his eyes is back. “I hope so.”

He pushes you down on your back on the bed and climbs over you.

Panic. Panic, panic, panic. It’s all you feel, all that floods your veins, your arteries, your cells, your organs. It mixes with your blood, concocting a terrible potion of anxiety.

You thrash beneath him, slapping at his shoulders, attempting to drive your knee in between his legs to push him off of you.

He forces you onto your right side, straddling your right thigh. Pressing himself against you, he grips your thigh with one hand, keeping the pit of your left knee close against his left hip.

You try to strike him, anything to get him off of you. Cheap shots are all you take at him, and God, he lets go of your thigh so that he can pin your wrists down by your sides.

You cry out, feeling the tip of him at your slit’s entrance. You shake your head wildly. No, no, no. This can’t be — This can’t be happening! You don’t want this!

He was supposed to be your friend! He helped you, saved your dog, saved your life! You gave him books, you gave him so much of yourself!

He impales you with his large cock with one sharp thrust of his hips. The pain is unimaginable. Never before would you have thought something which sounds so magical in books could cause such gut wrenching convulsions in real life.

Again, your tears make another appearance, but it only spurs him on. Faster, faster, deeper, faster, then slow, slow and hard until his hips pick up the pace again.

It feels like your walls are too tight around his length, like they’re trying to kick him out. You want him out! Out now!

You cry to Levi for relief, for a break, for him to just stop all together.

But oh he likes this too much to stop. In fact, he cock warms on the edge of his orgasm, forcing himself to stop, to have a semblance of restraint, just to pick up the pace again once his orgasm slips away from him.

It’s so…so horrible. Devastating? Definitely bad.

You don’t like this one bit.

“Levi, I want to stop! Can you please, stop? Please?!” You throw your head back against the pillow, your neck feeling strained, your forehead throbbing with a migraine.

“I’m not going to stop until you’re a little puddle of come, got that, brat?”

Whether he means his come or your come, you can’t tell. You don’t feel any joy from this, there’s only the sharp burn, the tightness of your insides.

Each time Levi drives into you, a raspy scream falls past your slick lips. He dips his head down low, biting at your chest, your neck. His blunt teeth drawing blood, digging beneath your flesh so deeply.

You whimper in disgust and pain like a wounded animal.

Finally, after multiple withholds of his own orgasm, he finally comes inside of you, and you’re just thankful that it’s over. He lets you go, drawing his blood covered cock out of you slowly, a show of power.

You look at it and then look at the bed beneath you once he stands up.

There’s a puddle of blood from your virginity being stripped away from you. Left without a choice.

You press your hand against the blood, feeling it. A reminder of your past before Levi, all of the romantic adventures you fantasized about in your head, all of the men you could have met but never will get the chance to now.

Somehow, this breaks you down even more.

“Quit acting like such a snot nosed brat, Y/N. Those tears better be dry by the time I get back from bathing. I have to wash all of your blood off my cock.”

You refuse to look at him, but you hear the smirk in his voice.

Yes, you wish you had never gone out that cold, wet winter’s night.

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