#hawks x reader pure angst

[thehusbandoden]

Welp I just found this in one of my many drafts-

(Warning: angst, mention of murder, blood, betrayal, being used, manipulation, gaslighting, the sorts)

~~~

Tears form in your eyes as you stare at the man that you have dated for months stare down at you, his once warm honey-colored eyes hardened with a freighting coldness. You struggle to breathe as you feel surrounded by the stench of blood- your comrades, your friends- the people you thought were *his* comrades and friends.  

Dead on the floor beneath you- killed by *his* hands by *his* freewill- you felt sick. “I thought you were one of us.” You whisper, your voice hoarse from the roller coaster of emotions.  

“Don’t be silly, y/n.  You should have been smarter.” He sighed, glaring down at you like he was disappointed- as if he expected better. “Well, there‘s a reason why I had to drag you into dating me.” He added with a shrug. He started walking towards you, his foot crushing a fallen comrade.  

It felt like a punch to the gut.  

Your hands were shaking as you ready your quirk, prepared to fight back. “So all of those months... all the time we’ve spent together? It meant nothing to you?” You whisper, your voice broken from emotion.  

“They weren’t nothing... they were annoyances.” He rolled his eyes. Your heart throbbed.  

~~ I'm gonna try to make something out of it lol. Lmk if you're interested/wanna be tagged if I ever do write anything for it

[urcrowley]

Floral Flame

— Florist!Touya X Reader —

(NO QUIRKS AU , I NEED TO HEAL 🤚🤚🤚)

YOGiNotes: I can’t believe I’m writing this but here we are!! We need more male reader fics guys.. I feel left out /j

(EVERYONE LITERALLY DRAGGED ME TO THE DABI BRAINROT!1!1! STOP THIS MADNESSSSSS)

Completely made this in a rush and out of boredom! I apologize for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. It is a bit short for my liking but I do hope you still enjoy! 🙏

Warnings: some swearing ig (?) ; very unfunny author ; angst will cook soon (not in this chapter though….)

“My flower…”

Y/N muttered to himself, staring at the now-wilted flower. With a gentle touch, he reached out and tapped one of the fragile petals, watching as it detached from the wilting bloom and fell to the ground.

“I should probably ask that old hag for some advice again, huh?”

He was talking about the older yet amicable woman who ran the flower shop just a few blocks away from his apartment. He regretted not remembering her name. With a less-than-careful tug, Y/N detached his backpack from the corner where it had been gathering dust and carelessly dumped its contents onto the bed, each item making a soft thump sound as it hit the mattress. Y/N cautiously placed the flower pot into his bag once everything was out and grabbed a random coat from the rack beside the door. As he walked out, he tried to tie his shoes while keeping up with his pace.

Almost causing himself to fall.

Well, almost.

He strolled over to his locked bicycle, hopping on it shortly. He rode his bicycle to the shop. But when he arrived..

He was not greeted to the usual ‘good day’ of the kind old woman; rather, a man who didn’t look too far off his own age.

‘This guy definitely listens to mcr..’

Y/N thought to himself, as he waved at the guy. Putting up a front, smiling politely.

“Excuse me? Do you know where—“

“She’s not here today.”

…okay, rude?

“Oh.. When will she—“

“Next week.”

This guy was getting on Y/N’s nerves if he was being completely honest.

“Who are you anyways?”

Y/N was only met with silence and a cold blank stare. He stared back because— well, to be Frank, he didn’t know what else to do.

“I work here.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He could hear the man click his tongue in annoyance.

“I don’t have to answer to you,” he rolled his eyes, “now, do you need help with anything or something?”

“Is that how you usually treat your customers?”

“…yeah? So what?”

“Nothing, just saying it’s a big.. contrast to what I’m used to.”

The man's gaze fixed on Y/N with a steely glare, his eyes narrowing as if affronted by Y/N's audacity to utter such a statement. “Whatever.. just tell me what you need so we can be done here.”

“Right.. so um..”

Y/N withdrew the flower from his backpack and gingerly placed it on the counter of the checkout. He then glanced up at the man, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t know what went wrong.. I did what I was told and kept managing my watering time..”

Dabi, as indicated by his nametag, meticulously examined the flower, leaning closer to get a better look. It was clear the flower was already dead, leaving him to ponder Y/N's actions beforehand. Y/N, however, contemplated if Dabi was thinking something profound like 'this plant hadn't received the precise amount of water it required,' or if it was something stupid simple and meaningless like ‘I wonder what I’ll have for dinner later.’

Jokes on him, Dabi was thinking of both.

Dabi let out a sigh and rolled up his sleeves, revealing the tattoos on his arms. Y/N was tempted to take a peek, but quickly reminded himself not to be nosy. However, despite his best efforts to focus, he couldn't help but sneak a quick glance at the intricate ink designs on Dabi's skin.

‘Shittt.. that’s sick.’

Y/N thought before quickly snapping out of it.

“Did you make sure your flower gets enough sunlight every day?”

“…what?”

“Your flower?? Gets sunlight?? Hello??”

“……”

Dabi slowly shifted his gaze towards Y/N, his face betraying a mixture of disbelief and surprise. His expression seemed to convey a silent question, as if wondering what on earth Y/N was even doing to this poor plant.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“…no.”

The two stared at each other…

After a moment of silence, Y/N spoke up again. “How was I supposed to know this flower needed sunlight?”

“Google exists.”

“I’m a busy man!”

“Busy doing what? Being uneducated?”

DAMN, that hurt more that it was supposed to.

“Okay.. okay, it’s a dumb mistake on my part. Can I buy another one to try again?” Y/N puts his hands on his hips, waiting for Dabi’s answer. “Well.. I don’t have a choice I guess.” Dabi said, the sound of defeat evident in his tone. He walked away to find the same flower as Y/N stood there.

Y/N found himself strangely familiar with the odd man before him. There was something about him that he couldn't quite pinpoint, and it frustrated him. Crossing his arms in annoyance, Y/N observed Dabi carefully examining the flower selection. He realized maybe he should cut the newbie some slack since he just started working here after all.

Dabi finally located the specific flower Y/N had requested and assisted in transferring it to a fresh pot. He then helped Y/N carefully tuck the potted flower into the latter's backpack, gently securing it in place.

“Thanks, I appreciated the help.”

“Ugh, please never come back.”

Y/N snorted at that, almost unable to hold his laughter. He handed his payment to Dabi, and waved goodbye.

“Unfortunately for you, new guy, I’m a regular here!”

He said as he walked out of the store.

Dabi— no, Touya exhaled a frustrated sigh once that idiot guy was gone. He hated working at the flower shop but knew he had no choice. His current situation forced him to hide, and this job was a means to keep a low profile. He longed for a better life, but for now, he was stuck here in this cramped shop, surrounded by fragrant blooms.

Welp, that’s the life of a man on the run he supposed..

YEEEE HE HAS EDGY BACKSTORY WOAHH 🫵🫵😮😮😮😮

This chapter is just me trying to get the idea out of my head, I swear I’ll cook better in the next one ☹️☹️☹️💥💥💥💥

This was supposed to be an artwork idea but I couldn’t really draw rn

Also, mind you, I’m posting this at 3AM in my timezone, PLEASE PLEASE EXCUSE THE BADWRITIGNNFNF 😭😭😭😭

(I am ashamed of myself 😞)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying. 

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer. 

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm. 

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant. 

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines. 

John’s icon dims. 

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to. 

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you. 

He tried to call as often as he could. 

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down. 

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic. 

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.” 

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening. 

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind. 

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?” 

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work. 

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth. 

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together. 

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad? 

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears. 

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.” 

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted? 

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him. 

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind. 

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with. 

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present. 

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I���m sorry I just…” 

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear. 

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?” 

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring. 

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts. 

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor. 

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs. 

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.” 

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin. 

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing. 

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?” 

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation. 

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.” 

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords. 

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else. 

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences. 

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips. 

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends. 

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute. 

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later. 

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?” 

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?” 

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name. 

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed. 

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click. 

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms. 

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat. 

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening. 

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh. 

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.” 

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod. 

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.” 

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room. 

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.” 

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight. 

You steel yourself and raise the box. 

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair. 

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully. 

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm. 

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead. 

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders. 

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed. 

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship. 

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!” 

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly. 

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.” 

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it. 

Pregnant. 

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly. 

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts. 

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss. 

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold. 

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again. 

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.” 

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.” 

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.” 

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.” 

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second. 

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.” 

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child. 

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.” 

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.” 

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave. 

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[the-trash-site]

My favourite type of fanfiction at the moment has been 'y/n is reincarnated into fandom to save the characters from canon!'. (currently mainly reading for JJK and MHA as that's what I'm obsessed with.) There's something so pure about the plot and how the author has fun with it. With scenes where yn is lowkey simping or the actual character of the fandom being dorky.

I think the appeal (besides the amazing writing and passion given into each chapter of these fanfic, rec list below) of this is how straightforward it can be. You already know the characters, you know the canon. All you learn when first reading is what ability you get and how you fit within the world. Which is usually attending the school or growing up with the character.

But mostly, what I love is seeing the butterfly effect and the new dynamics it can create. But lately, I can't help but wonder about a fanfic that has the vibe of 'careful what you wish for'. And seeing what ripples that could make. (I write mostly of JKK and MHA but these ideas could be apply to AOT or Demon Slayer or any other fandom.)

I find it hilarious if instead, the y/n is older than the main group. Imagine being the milf/dilf of MHA. Being the same age as All Might or old enough to adopt characters like Shigaraki.

Or being the in-between age of Deku and the teachers. Where your options are; hanging out with the League of Villains, working hard asf to be a top hero to be around Hawks/the plot. Or becoming a teacher/assistant to watch over class 1A to change canon. I mean, what else are you meant to do in your early twenties? You literally have to force yourself into the plot lol

Oh, you have a favourite character, like Nanami, Gojo or Choso you want to meet? Here you go, a new life as their child! (probably be a sibling for Choso lol) Oh you met you wanted to rizz them up and treat them right? Nope, sorry, you're forced to tag along and face any challenges that would come as being a child to a; Jujutsu sorcerer/ the strongest/ a half-curse spirit.

Oh, this time you specified the thought of being dating/married to Aizawa/Geto/Toji as you died? Kinda weird but here you go! Your new life as their spouse! But only, you don't gain memories from this new life, as you only remember about the canon. Don't mind the grief and odd looks the character is giving you, their amnesia darling. It's not like you can't remember the wedding you two shared. (for maximum angst, they have the kids and you're just clueless about being a parent and saving the canon. yikes)

Okay, but what if you get super lucky? You get to be with the main character and do real help! Everything is fine in JJK but Sukuna is dead set on killing you. Every chance he gets, he uses until he kills you. But it's only after he brought you back that you learn it's because he actually loves you. After all, you're the reincarnated of his reincarnated dead wife. (not confusion at all, lol) He was just pissed that you dead centuries ago and couldn't have the life you two planned. It was his way of getting even. Definitely not annoying when trying to save characters.

Okay, for real now. Everything is perfectly fine...But what's this? Yuji and Izuku are actually yandere for you? Oh, that wouldn't change canon that much, right?

Anyway, here are my favourites fanfics;

Otherworldy attraction by Kilkyo851 JJK | on AOE | multiple pairings

When I catch you Gege by Quinnyundertow JJK | on AOE | multiple pairings

Daybreak by sexy-captain-rexy (smolkatsudon) Star wars | poly Obi-Wan, Anakin Skywalker and reader pairing| on AOE

Promise: Thorin x Fíli x reader Hobbit | love angle with true pairing haven't been shown | on AOE (this one is interesting as reader has more visions than knowledge from media.)

Changing History [MHA! Various F!Reader] by summerblack | MHA | on Qoutev

The Future's Keeper [MHA!Various x F!Reader] by summerblack | MHA | on Quotev

[luvsupa]

GOODBYE, PRINCE GOJO.

tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), smut, (fingering), gojo has no shame, ANGST, royalty, sad ending arranged marriage, forbidden love, kissing, mdni idk what to add..

w.c: 4.4k

a/n:FINAL PART 🥹🥹 tysm for everyone who supported me and my story! ALSO THANK U GUYS SM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! IM BEYOND THANKFUL 💗+likes and reblogs are appreciated 🤍🤍

the next morning, unease settles over you as you touch up your makeup at your vanity desk, preparing for family breakfast. your entire life feels like it’s crumbling. you have only two days to choose your fate. strangely enough, you’ve grown comfortable around gojo again, but the fear of him tormenting you lingers.

but then there’s nanami.

he promised you a loving future. he’s charming and everything you want in a husband. yet, you can’t have both. society would never accept it; you’d be shunned if you tried.

choosing nanami means finally being freed from gojo, the twisted curse that has haunted you. but also being sent away could benefit you, offering no drama and pure freedom from him.

this is the only way you could truly be happy.

you grip your makeup brush tightly, feeling beyond conflicted. in a fit of frustration, you throw the brush and stand abruptly, nearly tipping your chair. this decision is tearing you apart. you don’t care about your appearance anymore as you exit your room and head to the breakfast room.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you hear distant chatter before arriving in the royal breakfast room. you greet the guards kindly as you enter, finding only your mother, gojo’s mother, and ayana seated around the long table. you expected more seats to be occupied, but many were empty.

the servants were bringing plates of fruits and vegetables to the table, along with freshly squeezed juices.

ayana notices you first, scoffing and turning away. you walk to the opposite side of ayana, catching gojo’s and your mother’s attention with your heels clacking against the wooden floor.

“oh, good morning, dear,” your mother says as you greet everyone respectfully. you sit directly in front of ayana, with your mother to your left at the table’s end.

“will ‘ruru be joining us, your majesty?” ayana asks annoyingly. the queen confirms his arrival. ayana looks at you with a hint of mischief, but you’re already weary of the torment you’ve endured.

just in time, you hear his laughter echo outside the breakfast room as he chats with the guards, thanking them for their hard work. ayana leans back in her seat, trying to see gojo through the doorway, biting her lip as she eyes him.

you feel a pang of jealousy at her reaction to him—oh.

i get why.

gojo walks in with his hair fluffy and damp, wearing a white button-up with the first few buttons undone, revealing a bit of his chest. you feel yourself start to salivate as his lotus tattoo peeks out.

holy fuck, he’s hot, you think.

“satoru, dear, must you always arrive in such untidiness?” his mother inquires with a touch of regal authority as he makes his way toward you. ayana’s jaw drops as he ignores her and takes the seat beside you.

you nearly moan out loud as you inhale his scent.

“presentable for whom?” he questions in a sassy tone.

“the royal authorities and ayana’s parents will be joining us,” the queen says as gojo rolls his eyes, clearly uninterested in anyone but you.

as you wait for the remaining guests to join, gojo keeps trying to hold your hand under the table. you keep shoving him away because your mother and ayana are watching you like hawks.

gojo knows they’re watching and doesn’t care—he wants them to see. as you push his hands away for the fifth time, the guards notify everyone that the rest of the guests have arrived.

you all line up to greet each person, feeling especially awkward when greeting ayana’s parents.

eventually, you return to your seats, still sitting in front of ayana and now her parents, as well as other royal authorities along the table, and beside gojo. great.

the maids kindly serve everyone plates of their desired breakfast. the room fills with the clatter of forks and knives scraping plates, and the soft chatter of the queen and royal authorities. as you enjoy your food, you notice gojo’s plate is untouched.

“you’re not hungry? you didn’t touch your food,” you whisper, concerned about his lack of appetite. he lazily turns his head to you, leaning in.

“i want you,” he murmurs.

you hold your composure, not wanting to show a reaction as you know many eyes are on you, including ayana’s. you ignore his words and focus on eating, but you feel gojo’s gaze, intense and searching.

he won’t back down, will he?

gojo deliberately knocks his utensils under the table, the clattering noise drawing everyone’s attention. you know he has something up his sleeve.

“ahh, don’t worry about me! just clumsy,” gojo reassures everyone as they return to their conversation. he lifts the tablecloth and ducks under the table to retrieve the utensils.

just as he’s getting up from under the table, you feel his hand slide under your gown. his cold fingers trail smoothly up your calf, moving higher and higher until they reach your thighs.

your heart races. he cannot be doing this—the royal authorities are here!

your breath hitches, but you try to maintain your calm persona. his touch sends shivers through you, and the risk of being caught only heightens the tension. gojo’s fingers tease your inner thigh, his touch both infuriating and electrifying.

“please,” you whisper, almost inaudibly, not sure if you’re begging him to stop or to continue.

you nearly moan out loud as he rubs you through your already wet undergarments, holding the utensils in his other hand. “here they are! silly me,” he says jokingly, eliciting laughter from the guests. with a rough pull, he moves your undergarments aside, revealing your cunt under the table.

if anyone dared to look under, you two would be sent to the guillotine.

“be a good girl and keep quiet,” he huskily whispers into your ear. you feel yourself slowly turning to mush, his voice, his fingers, his scent—

you cannot keep quiet like this! you must look presentable, especially with ayana glaring at both of you, her annoyance evident.

gojo rubs his fingers along your slit, parting your folds and applying pressure, provoking you to the brink of losing all sanity. his long, slender fingers tease your entrance, almost inserting, but not quite. you bite your lip so hard you think you could bleed, desperately trying to maintain your composure.

shaking, you hold your fork and struggle to focus on eating. gojo, meanwhile, looks unusually pleased, a smug satisfaction on his face as he watches you squirm.

“dear, have you made your decision?” your mother asks, her voice cutting through the hushed conversation at the table. you nervously glance around, internally cursing gojo for his reckless games.

“I-I haven’t,” you stammer, feeling exposed and vulnerable as gojo pinches your throbbing clit. he smirks knowingly, enjoying your struggle to maintain composure.

“you must decide soon, mustn’t you?” gojo interrupts, his tone taunting and cruel. tears threaten to spill from your eyes, realizing he intends to torment you in front of everyone.

“I- mmf”

your whole body jolts as gojo shoves two of his thick fingers straight into your sloppy pussy, the stretch burning in a way that feels strangely good. your velvety walls immediately pulse around his invading fingers, your wetness flowing down your legs. you bite your lip to stifle a cry, struggling to maintain your composure, slowly forgetting that everyone is waiting for your coherent response.

“I will,” you frantically whisper, unsure if anyone heard your hasty response or grasped its significance. as gojo curls his fingers, finding that spot that sends shivers down your spine, you feel yourself growing weaker and weaker with each thrusting movement.

your clit twitches in desperate need of attention, neglected by his deliberate touch, heightening the risky thrill of the forbidden act.

“she would be happier away from all of us,” ayana says, attempting to provoke a reaction from you. but you’re too intoxicated by gojo’s fingers to fully register her words. your legs begin to shake uncontrollably as gojo inserts a third finger, stretching you to the fullest as he’s reaching the deepest parts as you feel intense waves of your orgasm approaching.

“ahh you would love the countryside wouldn’t you?” gojo asks again, smirking at how dumb you’ve already became from his fingers. to an outsider, you appear dazed and drowsy, your senses overwhelmed by gojo’s addictive touch. meanwhile, gojo sits composed and seemingly innocent, oh how this made you want to scream at him.

gojo sneakily snakes his other hand under the table. just as you were about to respond, he begins to rub circular motions on your sensitive nub. the double stimulation causes your velvety walls to rapidly tighten around his curled fingers, soaking both his fingers and your gown.

your brain feels fuzzy as your orgasm intensifies. your eyes flutter continuously, as you hear lewd squelches erupt from under the table as his thrusting movements quicken, eager to have you come for him.

your legs continue to shake uncontrollably as the climax rushes through you, your body tensing up. you collapse onto gojo’s chest, your pussy gushing out juices non-stop, creating a messy puddle under the table. as you catch your breath from the intense release, your arousal remains heightened. gojo holds you close, supporting you as you lean against him.

“oh, she might not be feeling well,” gojo remarks, feigning concern. he slides his fingers out of your cunt, and you silently whine at the sudden loss, your walls clenching around nothing.

wait.

you forgot that you were still having breakfast with all the royal statuses as you and gojo were acting like fools! someone for sure had to notice. you’re too scared to look around as you remain leaning on gojo’s chest.

“i will bring her to her room to rest; this topic can be overwhelming,” gojo says, and everyone believes his cover story as he helps you, guiding you out of the breakfast room.

instead of taking the direct route to your room, gojo leads you down a longer path, where fewer guards are present. he stops at a secluded corner, where you have more space to talk openly.

“do you have any sort of decorum? i almost lost it in front of them!” you exclaim, still feeling the pulsating aftermath of your recent actions. your jaw drops as you watch gojo suck his pruned fingers into his mouth, humming loudly as he savors the taste of your arousal. his bright blue eyes lock onto yours with intense lust.

“i said i wanted you,” he murmurs, seemingly dazed by the lingering taste in his mouth.

“i do not want you to go to the countryside. i want you with me,” he pleads, his eyes darting between your lips and your gaze.

“you cannot always get what you want, big boy,” you tease, your hands wrapping around his neck as you pull him into a passionate kiss. you both moan loudly as your tongues entwine, tasting your arousal on his tongue immediately.

you pull away, denying gojo’s attempt for more kisses. he looks desperate, as if he’s dying without your touch, but you reject him again.

“i have to make my choice,” you say, smoothing out his unbuttoned shirt. your hands slip inside, revealing his lotus tattoo once more. he watches you intently, recognizing your odd attraction to his ink.

“i will see you later, ’toru,” you declare, ending the encounter. with that, you take the longer route back to your room, leaving gojo flustered once again.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as gojo makes his way back to the breakfast room alone, he re-enters the bustling atmosphere where a few people notice his presence. feeling already bored, he settles back into his original seat and makes eye contact with ayana's glossy eyes.

"is my daughter alright? i didn't want her to feel overwhelmed," your mother asks gojo with concern, while ayana eavesdrops. gojo reassures her that everything is fine, but ayana grows more impatient, her leg bouncing in frustration as she knows what transpired between you two.

"all she needed was rest—"

"do you all find this quite odd?" ayana rudely and loudly interrupts, causing a stir in the conversation. her parents are taken aback by her outburst, and the room watches in confusion, waiting for her to continue with her suspicions.

"the man i am supposed to marry is all lovey-dovey for that bitch!" she exclaims, prompting your mother to scold her for her language, which earns ayana's parents a disapproving glance from yours. on the other hand, gojo glares at ayana, visibly restraining himself from reacting impulsively.

“i mean mother, father, you have not seen it all yet but all she does is manipulate my poor ‘ruru,” she continues, spinning a false narrative to fit her story.

“manipulate how?” one of the royal authorities questions, clearly curious about the drama, which could further complicate your choices. ayana shifts her attention to the royal figures, grinning mischievously.

“it’s been many times i have caught them in sexual acts together, she manipulates him into it,” she lies, faking a sniffle to garner sympathy from the authorities. “j-just the other day—oh goodness—they were going feral for each other,” she claims, drawing everyone’s attention to gojo, whose smirk infuriates his mother as he reminisces on your shared intimacy.

“and you were a witness to all of their sexual acts?” the royal authority questions again, setting his utensils down and wiping his mouth with a cotton cloth as he stares intensely at ayana.

“unfortunately, i was. i just hope her punishment increases even more—even right now! they were just engaging in sinful acts under the table! how shameful,” she continues, causing shock and discomfort throughout the room. gojo slouches back in his chair, arms crossed, and begins to laugh, confusing everyone except the royal authorities.

“ayana hara,” another royal authority calls out, catching the attention of ayana and her parents. “as of now, you have confessed to committing a taboo—” ayana’s jaw drops as the authority’s words sink in. her plan isn’t unfolding as expected.

“t-taboo? my royal authority, i-i have not!” ayana interrupts, frantically trying to deny the accusation.

"as i was saying," the royal authority declares firmly, his demeanour visibly upset at her impudent interruption. "bearing witness to sexual acts among two unmarried individuals and failing to promptly report such transgressions to the authorities is considered a grave breach of decorum and law."

ayana’s face drains of color completely. she turns to her parents for support, their eyes seeking guidance from the queen, who remains composed but stern. tears begin to trickle down ayana's cheeks as she comprehends the gravity of her confession. meanwhile, gojo surveys the room with a knowing smile, fully aware of how ayana has unwittingly sealed her fate.

"i- i do not understand, there’s certainly no law about this," ayana stammers, desperation evident in her plea as she searches for any form of support, even casting a fleeting glance towards gojo, hoping he might intervene on her behalf.

"the king and queen uphold the law of the realm without exception. as for your transgression, ayana hara, you are hereby stripped of your duchess title, and immediate banishment of the hara estate is mandated," the authorities pronounce with unwavering authority, rising from their seats in disapproval of the disruption during breakfast. the queen and your mother remain somber and silent throughout, their disappointment clear.

"w- where would i s- stay?" ayana sobs, her world collapsing before her eyes. had she only kept silent, gojo thinks.

"there exists a remote village in the southern reaches, designated for those who have fallen from noble status. there you shall reside until further decree," he continues, the other authorities respectfully concluding their business with the queen and gojo before exiting the room, leaving ayana to cry out in anguish. tears stream down her face as her mother attempts to comfort her.

the room hangs heavy with tension, your mother and the queen maintaining bowed heads. ayana's father hastily pursues the departing authorities, seeking to work out the severity of his daughter's punishment. meanwhile, gojo remains seated, quietly amused by the unfolding drama. from the moment ayana spoke out, he knew her fate was sealed.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

"she was screaming all the way to her carriage, it was hilarious," gojo recounts the scene that unfolded in your absence. ayana had finally got what she deserved, and although you wish you could have witnessed it firsthand, it was satisfying to know she was facing her karma.

gojo stands in your room, recounting the events as you sit at the end of your bed. his shirt is still unbuttoned, and you notice a few more buttons undone than before.

"where has your pretty mind wandered off to?" gojo teases, his hand reaching down to gently lift your face so you meet his blue eyes.

"i am deciding on the first choice," you say, indicating your plan to move to the countryside. you don't want to be forced into a marriage with one of his distant relatives. gojo's smile fades, and he slowly lets go of your face, taken aback by your decision.

"what? no, we must figure something out," he stammers, reality sinking in as he realizes your departure is soon. "time's running out, 'toru. i have to decide, or your father will decide for me."

"no, we will go speak to them." before you can respond, gojo grabs your arm and pulls you out of your room, determined to find his parents. this time, you don't resist his grip, knowing that no matter what gojo says, the king's decision will stand greater.

as you descend the stairs, still hand in hand with gojo, you enter the drawing room to find the king and queen, accompanied by an unfamiliar woman.

“ah, perfect timing,” the king remarks as you both halt. gojo tries to speak but is immediately cut off by his father.

“son, with ayana’s banishment, it disrupts your marriage plans,” the king states.

“yes, father, but i have decided i will marry—”

“you are going to marry ayana’s cousin, rina.”

you shift your focus to the beautiful woman standing beside the king. she’s the same height as you, with long blonde silky hair draping along her back, some pieces neatly curled. her satin blue gown with white accents is beautifully hand-made as she holds a matching fan in one hand. she’s stunning.

you let gojo’s hand go as you feel utterly defeated, his plan of trying to convince the king shattered.

“dear, we ask if you can give them privacy to speak,” the queen says, ordering you to leave. gojo once again grabs your hand.

“she hasn’t decided yet, mother. she has two more days,” gojo says through gritted teeth. the queen chuckles softly at his defensiveness.

“she no longer has a choice. after the incident at breakfast, she will be sent to the countryside permanently first thing tomorrow,” the queen declares.

you can feel his anger.

“are you serious? you allowed her until—”

“i understand,” you say, cutting off gojo as he looks at you in disbelief. he cannot believe how quickly you surrendered your future.

“very well, come now, let us give them space,” the queen says, guiding you out of the room. gojo and rina are left alone as his anger boils over.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you wander the estate, feeling under the weather, you notice nanami through a window, sitting alone in the outdoor library, writing in a journal.

you approach him, and he looks up, smiling as he gestures for you to join him.

“how have you been?” you ask, genuinely concerned for his well-being.

“I should be asking you that. i never wanted this to happen to you,” he replies, closing his journal and placing the feathered pen neatly beside it. you nod, fidgeting with your fingers.

“i have been avoiding you for a few days. i am so ashamed of what occurred, my dear,” he apologizes, his voice rich with sincerity. you immediately forgive him, not wanting to hold a grudge.

“i am being sent to the countryside tomorrow. satoru will marry ayana's cousin,” you inform him. his brows raise in shock at the speed of the decision.

“and you wanted this?”

“no, i initially wanted to marry you, then sat—“ you stop yourself before you can fully say his name, but nanami already knows. he nods at your almost slip-up.

“i believe moving away is probably for the best, but cutting all contact with all of you is the hardest part,” you say truthfully, your heart aching at the thought of never seeing them again. nanami reaches for your hands, taking them into his larger ones.

“you will always be in contact with me. i shall visit you often and write to you,” he reassures you, his voice calm and steady, making you feel more at ease. "and who knows, perhaps one day i can truly make you my queen," he adds, making you gasp at his words, almost as if he's making a promise to you.

“you are destined to make a great king,” you compliment, rubbing circles onto his hands. his cheeks tint a slight pink beneath his glasses, and he smiles humbly, a touch of warmth in his expression.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

night approaches, and the maids and servants diligently pack your belongings. your room is filled with many helpers, working immediately on the king's orders. your mother and father are nowhere to be seen, their absence suggesting their disappointment in their daughter.

you quietly leave your room and make your way to the staircase, heading towards gojo's quarters. you walk down the long hallway and stand before his door, noting his initials engraved on the wooden surface.

you knock, and he swings the door open, not expecting you. his eyes widen as he sees you standing there, arms crossed, gazing into his puffy eyes—he has been crying.

“my room is filled with servants. may i sleep here?” you ask. he steps aside, allowing you into his spacious room.

“how was the meeting with rina?” you ask, turning to look at him as he locks the door, wanting to know if he has any interest in her.

“i want to move with you,” he says, disregarding your question. you look at him in confusion.

“you know that is impossible. are you truly willing to abandon your future as king for me?” you remind him. he nods, not caring about royal status anymore. you glare at him, wanting him to be realistic.

“please wait for me. i promise i will find you and make you the ruler of this estate,” he says as you step closer, embracing him. he nuzzles his head into your neck.

“i will delay the marriage until i can be with you. just, please, wait,” he pleads, and you chuckle softly at his desperation.

“there will never be a time when we can be together, ‘toru,” you say, shattering his dreams of your future together.

“y-yes, there will be. my father's illness will not last long, and my time as king will soon come. i will bring you back,” he says, choking on his words. he releases you from the embrace, sharing his plan.

you smile at his words, knowing that by the time gojo ascends to the throne, you both will have moved on with your separate lives. you take his hand in yours as you both climb into the large, comfortable bed, cuddling together as you stroke his fluffy hair. his continuous promises of your future together ring in your ears as he slowly drifts into slumber.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

your bags are placed across the grand entrance of gojo's estate. through the large double doors, you see three carriages ready to transport you and your belongings. you’ve barely slept, having spent the night in gojo’s tight embrace.

standing beside your parents, you see the tears welling in their eyes at the thought of their daughter departing. the king and queen arrive, with gojo trailing behind them, a look of sadness all over his face.

“it is indeed a sorrowful sight to see you leave,” the king speaks , “but we must act in the best interest of both our families and your reputation.” your gaze shifts to gojo, whose expression mirrors the anger he felt upon first seeing you enter their home.

“thank you for your hospitality,” you reply, your voice trembling as you bow respectfully to the king and queen. the king gestures for the guards to take the remaining luggage to the carriages, while both sets of parents attempt to accompany you.

“i would request that satoru escort me to my carriage,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. gojo’s face lights up with a mix of relief and sorrow as he takes your hand, guiding you down the grand staircase. your parents and his look on in surprise at your request.

as you descend the steps, you can feel gojo’s sorrow acutely. “i love you,” you confess softly. his eyes glisten with emotion, his cheeks flushing as he averts his gaze to conceal his smile.

reaching the final step and approaching the carriage, a guard opens the door. you slip from gojo’s grasp and turn to face him.

“please wait for me,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he presses his lips to yours. unperturbed by the guards or your parents watching, this kiss is laden with his anguish. he pulls away, tears brimming in his eyes, and kisses your forehead tenderly.

“stay in contact with me, my love,” he says, handing you a letter adorned with your name and a heart. you take it, fighting back tears as you strive to remain composed.

“prince gojo, we are to depart now,” the guard announces, interrupting your moment. you give gojo a final, lingering kiss before entering the carriage. as you adjust your gown in the seat, the guard shuts the door, and you are left alone, moving away.

overcome by emotion, you burst into tears as the carriage slowly begins its journey. gojo stands at the entrance, his heart breaking with each muffled sob that escapes from within. the further the carriage travels, the more his frustration grows—unable to bear the thought of being apart from his true love.

turning abruptly, gojo rushes up the stairs back into the estate, pushing past the concerned crowd as he ignores their calls. all he truly ever wanted was you.

[delfiore]

—I'LL NEVER WIN YOUR HEART.

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

synopsis: aside from endless hatred and devastating love, you don’t know anything else when it comes to alexia.

word count: 2k

tw: aNGST, spicy stuff, enemies to lovers to ……….?

a/n: wow has it really been a month since i last posted that's insane (i'm not being sarcastic i'm actually so shook at how fast time passes).

now playing:

Her eyebrows narrowed. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes lasered in like a hawk.

Even from across the club, several of your teammates knew to get the hell out of her way when she made a beeline towards you.

Alexia was scary when she was angry. There was an untouchable force to her that made one cower under her steely gaze. You used to feel the effect of it, once upon a time, but recently it was almost a weekly occurrence that she would direct her hardened gaze at you.

And now, as she fixed that deathly glare onto you, you felt your arm being yanked just as you were about to kiss the beautiful stranger you met mere minutes ago.

“What the fuck, Alexia!” Admittedly, you were buzzed, and any obstruction to your enjoyment would irritate you.

“Come with me,” she gritted her teeth.

“No! Let me go!”

She tugged on your arm and dragged you away despite your protests. The bathroom at the back of this club was filthy, and the door barely did anything to block out the thumping music outside, but Alexia pushed you into one of the stalls anyway, caging you in between her arms on either side of your head.

You had half a heart to slap her across the face when she shoved you against the divider and kissed you like a barbarian, lips and teeth clashing against one another in a heated mess. She had no right to do this, but her entitlement made it so you were trapped in her grasp again.

The worst part was that you enjoyed it, very much, especially when she went on her knees to do what she always did best.

It happened not too dissimilar to how it started. Your frustration mixed with her only ensured you both collided in the most spectacular way. You remembered arguing with her after a horrible game, both of you throwing blame at each other. It happened so quickly, that before you knew it, your hatred had turned to lust. Hatefucking, as one might call it. Suddenly, all you could think about each day was how much you hated Alexia and couldn't wait to fall into bed with her.

“You can’t just do that and pretend like nothing happened.”

Your words came out rushed as you were still trying to catch your breath. Alexia exited the stall and went to wash her hands, doing so with a frustrating nonchalance.

She met your gaze in the mirror. “Can’t I?”

You scoffed. “Why do I bother? La Reina never gets off her high horse, does she? You’ve never respected me, ever.”

“That’s not true.” Her eyes flickered, and you thought you could see unspoken words behind them.

“Then what was that earlier?” You asked, irritated.

“I should ask you the same question,” she said firmly. “I thought we were fine. And now I see you grinding on some girl at the club? I mean—what is this, Y/N?”

It was always like that with Alexia, and if she didn’t say what she wanted to say, then you couldn’t help her.

“It’s not like you care,” you gritted your teeth. “I hope you had fun with Olga, by the way.”

Now it was her turn to scoff. “She’s my friend.”

“She was also your ex.”

“Can’t I be friends with my ex? And who are you to tell me who I should and shouldn’t hang out with?”

She was right. You had no place in her life to be telling her that. It was purely your desire, or a lack thereof, to hold a special place in her heart, but maybe you were foolish to wish for it when there has been so much history between you.

You chewed on your bottom lip, a habit you had since you were young. You suddenly felt the bathroom walls closing in on you—you needed to get out of there quickly.

Wordlessly, you shoved past her and returned to the club, the music once again deafening and pumping in your chest. You expelled a breath; the cute stranger was nowhere to be seen, and neither were Patri and Pina, with whom you came. That’s fine, there was an entire nightclub’s worth of people. You would find at least one person who would make you forget how much you despised Alexia and—maybe for the night—how much you loved her.

The story could have gone so differently. You two were similar in age, grew within the ranks of the Spanish youth teams together, then played at Barcelona together. You both played in midfield and younger players looked to you for guidance and leadership. Yet, it was known among your teammates that the two of you couldn’t stand to be in the same room. Ever since you were young, your similar play styles and clashing personalities ensured that you always butt heads on the field, and eventually, off it too. You grew up with this hatred of Alexia, as she did of you, but you could barely remember why. You were brazen and Alexia was cold, and that never worked for either of you.

It seemed she had had enough of your attitude one day, and shoved you so hard in training you thought you might have sprained an ankle. Some of the other girls noticed her distaste for you and started to distance themselves to gain favor with her. Then, Alexia became the best player in Spain, and you were always in her shadow. The media called you her ‘healthy rivalry’, even when you played for the same club. If you didn’t hate her as much as you did, they all ensured that you would never be able to get along ever again.

There was a memory that you buried deep inside, but it would easily surface again on nights like this. It made you question everything you’ve felt for Alexia, this thorn in your side that has never let you know peace

It was the summer of 2012 at a Spain U-19 camp. You had barely gotten any sleep the night before you came because it was your first call-up to represent your country. Alexia, of course, had become a familiar face in the team by the time you arrived. She wasn’t seen at breakfast one morning, and a coach said that she was dealing with personal matters. What you didn’t anticipate was finding her sitting alone by the steps of an entrance bawling her eyes out. You had tried to retreat, but Alexia had looked up before you could go.

“S-Sorry, I’ll just—”

“Mi papá . . .” Her voice was quiet like she didn’t want you to hear. Then, she burst into tears again. You had never seen Alexia like this, so distraught and vulnerable. The friends she liked to keep around were nowhere to be seen either. She never liked to appear weak in front of others.

Against your better judgment, you approached and sat next to her. “What happened?”

Exhaling shakily, she answered. “He was very sick. I just got the call from my mom.”

Your mouth hung open, unable to form words. As Alexia smeared her tears away with the back of her sleeve, she suddenly appeared younger and unlike the captain that you’ve come to know her. She was just a girl, who’d had something terrible happen to her, and you would be the biggest jerk not to push whatever you had between you aside.

“I’m sorry,” you only managed to say.

She said nothing and rested her face on the inside of her elbows.

“I’m sure he was very proud of you.”

“Please don’t say anything,” she breathed out, making you wince.

“Okay.”

Alexia sniffled. “I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. You didn’t like talking about your feelings either. It was the first thing you found Alexia and you had in common.

You started to feel sick. Your head spun like you had just stepped out of a washing machine, but still, you reached for the passing bartender who looked at you with patronizing eyes.

“Another.”

“Y/N, that’s enough.”

You pushed her hand away, mentally cursing at her interruption.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m gonna have to explain to Jona why you’re still shitfaced at training tomorrow.”

“Fuck. Off. I don’t fucking care.”

Then, you heard her say something she had never said to you before. “Please. Let’s go home.”

The truth was, you never wanted to protest her. Maybe the years have softened you, but you didn’t want to admit how much you craved her affection. There were times when you despised her and thought her the lowest form of a human being.

“Please don’t do this,” you pleaded. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, as you watched her frantically spring out of bed.

“I—uh, have to go. I’m meeting someone for lunch.” She replied, reaching for her pants strewn across the floor.

“Ale, I’m sorry . . .” You managed a pathetic whimper, tears threatening to fall. “Can we just pretend I never said anything?”

How is it that she had made you feel so euphoric merely moments later, and now you felt like you had hit rock bottom? Only because those stupid words slipped out of your mouth.

. . . But was it such a crime to tell her that you loved her, when it was your truth?

You learned the hard way that Alexia didn’t want what you wanted. Maybe it was just her, or maybe it was you, and she didn’t want anything to do with you. If that were true, you were foolish to think for even a second that she would. You never gave her much to like anyway.

But still, you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have any feelings for her. But aside from endless hatred and devastating love, you don’t know anything else when it comes to Alexia.

She had brought you back to your apartment, supporting you by holding you close and guiding you inside gradually.

The moment you hit the mattress, you groaned at the snugness of your own bed. Your eyes were barely open, but you saw the way she pulled your shoes off your feet and coaxed you to sit up so she could shed your outer coat.

But that was it. She was afraid to help you further, as it would resurface emotions Alexia thought should be buried, emotions that reminded her of sleepless nights and passion.

“Why are you so quick to get away from me?” You mumbled into your pillow.

You heard her sigh. “I brought you home, didn’t I?”

“Am I really that detestable that you wouldn’t even look at me?”

Her eyes met yours, but unlike earlier in the night, they now held a softness. “You know I don’t hate you. I never did.”

“Then stay.” You whispered, your head still spinning, but all you could focus on was her. “Stay with me. Please, we won’t do anything. I just don’t want to be alone.”

You didn’t care that you were begging her. You were tired of being pulled from end to end, and it was so much easier to love than to hate her.

You thought she would laugh in your face, pack her things and leave. Yet, when you opened your eyes again, she was lying in bed next to you, under the cover and all. She had changed into your clothes, so much more time had passed than you had thought.

“Go to sleep. We have training tomorrow,” Alexia whispered, her lips brushing your forehead softly.

You obliged, nuzzling your head into her chest as you let the comfort of her embrace lull you to sleep. You were too tired to fight it, to tell her no, that you would talk to her seriously about the two of you, even if you were drunk. It wasn’t the first time you had fallen for Alexia’s lies; all the other times, she left you in the dirt after giving you her everything for you to pick up the pieces yourself.

You hated her because you loved her. But maybe this is enough, you thought before sleep took over, just for tonight.

Maybe tomorrow will be different.

[dashitsxx]

i might just be in lo-lo-love | hawks x fem!reader

summary. Bumping into him one time was an accident then the second time, until it gradually turns to coincidences. Yet, you've never realized to have your heads over heels for this man.

genre. fluff. sfw.

word count. 600+

warnings. none. just pure fluff <3

notes. inspired by so american by olivia rodrigo <3 it was initially supposed to be long but it was slowly diverting to angst for no reason 😭 anw! enjoy this short one shot! <3

A burst of enormous laughter leaves between both of you. The atmosphere dances in the joy of your relationship as grins plaster on your faces. The music on the radio blasts its harmony as you and him sing forth, enacting gestures and movements.

The speed of the car reaches for the wind as it refreshes the both of you.

Keigo looks at you, a charming smile forms on his pretty lips. You were in a joyful mood, bopping your head. To keep up with your energy, he does the same thing you do.

"You look pretty in my clothes," he smirks as he places his warm hand on your thigh. You feel your face burn as your cheeks are soon painted red, and you clear your throat to focus on driving.

"Stop teasing me," you blush. Keigo only chuckled as he squeezed a squish of your fleshy area. You giggle at the his response. Then, hum with the song.

Soon, you arrived at your destination and the both of you got out of the car. You breathed in the fresh air as you smiled widely and your eyes beamed at the scenery before you.

Being on top of the mountain gave you shivers but from exhilaration. The sun is falling slowly to sleep as it emits a glow of golden light. The trees swayed with the wind with its fluff of colourful variants of leaves. After the fence, the city comes into view.

You sprint with giggles towards the fence before grabbing a hold of it, in awe of the city under you.

"Keigo, this is so beautiful! Come, look at this!"

He watches you run forward as he lets out a grin then follows in pursuit, standing beside you. You had your mouth agape as you carefully studied the cityscape.

As a foreigner in an unfamiliar place, you will never forget how you met him initially, he showed you directions to the restaurant you've been dying to dine at. It took a few bumps of coincidence for you to have the courage, and ask him for dinner. Surprisingly, you and Keigo vibed with each other. Thus, the second date is followed by the third, the fourth, the fifth, and so on.

After all the shitty break-ups and worthless exes you've dated, Keigo was the only man who made you feel like you were a dream to him—it sounds absurd but it's true. However, being in this dream, you fear that sooner or later, you'll wake up to a nightmare... and you don't want that to happen.

"Isn't a heavenly scene? Kei, look there—hey, stop looking at me." You tapped his shoulder rapidly as your gaze lingered on the city.

"I am already looking," you shift your attention to your right side, only to find his eyes on you. You felt a rush of red flowering your cheeks instead you pushed his face backwards.

"Stop it."

"Okay, okay, I will," he chortled as he faced forward.

You place your elbows on the fence as you palmed both of your cheeks, trying to calm the butterflies that emerged in your stomach. Your eyes glance at him on your right side. You spot the corner of his lips tilted upwards subtly as a soft gaze crosses his face. The light of the sun adorned him as it gleamed on his golden-brown eyes. His blonde hair was brushed against the wind and his chin held a bit of a goatee, giving him a suave, chill look. Especially with that casual attire; a clean grey shirt and brown cargo pants matched with numerous accessories.

Oh, why is he so damn handsome?

You feel another rush of butterflies swirling in your abdomen as you abruptly look away.

Oh god, it's just not fair of him to make you feel this much. He is so unfair. Finally, a realization hits your mind that explains your wonders as you let out a silent giggle, enjoying the feels of nature.

You might just be in love with him.

all dividers are from @/cafekitsune, thank you <33

[babygirl-riley]

Hi I love your stories so much. I have a ghost x reader request for where reader has a crush on ghost and gets so nervous around him like when he looks at her or talks to her and ghost knows she has a crush on her and likes making her nervous secretly like he'll keep eye contact with her like looking at her with his half lidded eyes while his talking or she talking and one night she tries to confess her feelings to ghost but she a nervous mess and ghost just shuts her up with a kiss and it turns into...yk yk. Hope this is acceptable 🙏.

Nerves

Ghost immediately realized that his newest Sargent gets nervous around him. The thing is he loves to see how long it will take for you to tell him your secret.

“If you want to play it like a game, well come on, come on, let’s play.”

A/N: LIIIISTEN this is such a cute concept. CAUSE Ghost would LOVE this shit. not my best work 😗😇

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst edition

Warnings: pure fluff, swearing, and alcohol consumption, soft!ghost, soft!simon

Ghost knew for months that you had some sort of feelings towards him. It wasn’t that you were flirtatious. It wasn’t the small touches. It wasn’t even stared. It was how your body would react when he would be anywhere then a mile from you.

At first when you both met, he thought it was because you were afraid of him. The typical wide eyes, the bottom lip being chewed, the staring but look away when he would look, and the fidgeting. So for a while he would stay away from you just so you could get use to everyone else before him.

It wasn’t him that approached you first, it was you. It was during a night where Soap and Gaz wanted to play some card game. Some other men and women joined including you. Ghost doesn’t do big groups so, he wandered outside smoking cigarettes, enjoying the warm breeze.

“Uh LT,” If it wasn’t for his impeccable hearing, he would have thought it was the wind. Ghost turned to see you, smiling but fidgeting. “Why aren’t hm…” Ghost thought she had an aneurysm from how quickly you stopped your sentence. Before he would say anything you chuckled. “Sorry I just get little nervous.”

Ghost gave you a questionable look. “It’s the mask.”

You chuckled. “Ya something like that.”

Ghost glared down at you, curiously. Then it hit him, he smirked underneath his mask. “It’s underneath yeah?”

Your eyes went wide, cheeks flushed and turning red. “I uh hm I have to go.”

After that Ghost went out of his way to make you turn red. He has never seen someone that has as much skill as you do get nervous. Over being around one person. One day 141 was waiting for the go to grab a messenger, he stood next to you. You fidget for a moment before relaxing a bit more.

That’s when he leaned in towards your ear. “Ya know under the mask is less scary to look at.”

You snapped your head up to meet his fake caramel eyes. Your face turning red immediately, your head snapped forward. “Uh that’s…”

“Bravo 0-7, grab the hawk.” Price said through the comms, making you jump.

Ghost chuckled and responded looking back down at you. “Let’s go kid.”

His favorite one was when you were working on a truck, you were underneath it fixing the oil line. He made sure you heard his boots as he walked around it. “Good in ‘ere?”

“Uh yeah.” You said as he heard clinging of metal. You laid on your back on the dolly.

He grabbed the end of it and pulled you out from underneath. Your eyes were wide and cheeks burning in red. Ghost smiled underneath the mask and leaned down a bit. “Even in oil kid you look pretty.”

You snapped your head up, barely hitting the end of the bumper. He even winced, felt bad for a moment before you chuckled. “Oh hell that looks ridiculous don’t it?”

You rubbed the top of your head until he reached out to grab your wrist. “Didn’t mean to hurt ya.”

Ghost felt your muscles freeze as you looked in his eyes. “I,” You paused then turned your heel. “Gotta fix this Lt.”

Or another time he was just staring at you. You were talking to civilians when you started to stumble over your words. Before clearing your throat and nodding turning your heel to head back to the building. “Stop staring.” You commented walking up the stairs.

“Can’t stop.” He mumbled smirking as you both got to the roof.

You glared at him, red flushing onto your cheeks. “I can’t focus when you do.”

Ghost got closer to you making you step back a step. Before stopping. “Only when you catch me doin it.”

You gasped before turning away, stumbled a bit. “Focus Ghost.”

It took you almost a year before you expressed how you felt about him. The team was celebrating the last success of a mission, everyone was in a hanger. Drinking. Laughter. Ghost would watch as your cheek started to go red from the alcohol running through you.

Ghost watched as you would easily talk to Soap and Gaz or basically anyone else but him. It made him second guess on how you truly felt. He knew how he felt, he adored you, liked being around you. As the night kept going you itched closer to Ghost.

The brave juice is what your sister would tell you. The “juice” made you braver when it came to your crushes. So when you finally reached Ghost, you stood right next to him barely touching his sweatshirt.

Ghost’s heart raced when he felt you barely touching him with your arm. “I like you.” You whispered swirling your bottle.

Ghost smirked underneath his mask. “I know,” You smiled before your cheeks got even more red. He turned to you fully making you go wide eyed and still smiling. “The way you get nervous love, it’s obvious.”

You roll your eyes. “I just don’t know how to flirt Ghost.”

He smirked leaning down. “We ‘ave time to teach you.”

You laughed, something he hasn’t heard coming from you. “Listen I don’t-I don’t think that would even be possible because I can’t even look at you before I go red and get embarrassed when I do. Well I try not to bu…”

Ghost blanked out, his heart skipped when you kept rambling on. He looked round to see everyone was doing their own thing then back at you. One swift motion he hooked his fingers beneath his mask, lift it to his nose, grabbed the side of your face.

Your eyes went wide as your mouth snapped shut. Nothing would have prepared you for the next part. Ghost’s lips connected with yours, it was a innocent, long kiss. It felt like it was right for him, something that should have been done months damn near years.

When he left your lips, you sighed and felt disappointed that the connection was gone. “Okay.” You whispered. “Loud and clear.”

Ghost chuckled pulling his mask back down and still having his hand on your cheek. Rubbing his thumb up and down your cheek bone. “No need to be nervous ‘round me love.”

You smiled at him and nodded. “Okay,” You whispered looking into his caramel brown eyes. “But you might have to remind me again.” You said smirking.

Ghost huffed in amusement. “Hm we may not have to teach ya.”

[nepenthendline]

till death do us part - Hawks (Keigo Takami) x reader

a/n: unconfirmed reader death, gore and blood mentions, hawks wants to marry you, angst angst angst, gn reader, let me know if you want a part 2 where reader survives!!

Hawks and you had been battling a nomu for what felt like hours now - it was a high end, and even you two, a duo of perfect sync and compatibility, were struggling to knock it down. There were other pro-heros in the area focused on rescue and evacuation, but only the two of you were in direct combat.

Things seemed to be taking a turn for the better, however. Even though most of Keigo's feathers were demolished, leaving him to fight with his swords, and you were covered in injuries and small broken bones, its regeneration was wearing thin.

'Almost there, let's go for the head!' Keigo yelled to you over the wailing of the nomu, in which you nodded in return. As if connected, you both moved forward at the same time; your partner was fighting in front of the nomu, working as a distraction, whilst you lept up from behind and plunged your knife into its head. The creature groaned and stumbled, blood pouring out of its brain as you sliced through the flesh. 'You got it,' you heard Keigo yell above the noise, giving you the power to plunge your knife further. The nomu fell to its knees, making you grip onto its shoulders to steady yourself as it collapsed. Now, at a lower level, you could see the relief in Keigo's eyes and the slowing rise and fall of his chest. He began walking closer to assist you as you plunged your knife again to deal a final blow, however, the next few moments flashed before him.

The nomu raised one stub of an arm over its head, growing some sort of sharp extension from it, and aimed towards you. Before you could react, the sharp appendage shot through your abdomen, throwing you a few feet back and released, dropping your limp frame on the ground.

Keigo's eyes were wide, and jaw dropped as he watched his love get pierced by the creature. As soon as he heard the tear of your body, he screamed your name - a gut-wretching, painful scream. He vaulted forward, moving out of pure adrenaline and fear, slicing the remaining head off of the nomu, and watched it crumble to the ground. He stood still for a moment as the world came to a silencing hault expect for the sound of his blood rushing through his body. He dropped his swords and bolted to you.

You lay lifeless on the ground, blood pooling from your stomach onto your hero costume and the earth below you, mixing with the dirt. He reached you in seconds and dropped to his knees by your side. One hand came to cradle your head, the over hovered over the gaping wound, shaking.

'Shit...SHIT,' his whole body trembled as he looked over you, eyes darting around and taking in the horror. They fell onto your face, covered in blood, dirt, and tear stains that had fallen from your half-lidded eyes. His head shot up, frantically looking for someone, or something, to help you. He spotted a person, a hero, not too far away who stood frozen, watching the two of you, with their hand cupping their mouth in terror. 'Get someone! They need help!' His voice was rough and unsteady from the lump in his throat - something so raw and agonising. The hero nodded vigorously, before running off.

Keigo looked back down to you - the blood continued to spill from you, and his hand was holding more weight from your neck than before. His other hand, the one that rested above your wound, flexed open and closed before he spoke. 'Dove? This is going to hurt, but stay with me, ok?' He pleaded, watching you force a slight nod as you looked up at him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the heel of his hand into your wound, putting pressure on the area to slow the bleeding. The hand under your head stroked at your scalp as you whimpered and winced from the pain. 'I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' he murmured like a mantra as he shifted himself so that your head rested in his lap. The, now free, hand came to move your damp hair away from your face and continued to brush through. You locked eyes for a few moments in silence.

'It's gonna be ok, dove, you're gonna be ok,' he forced out, his voice breaking as tears ran down his cheeks. He sniffled before bending down to place a kiss on your cold yet sweat-slick forehead. His chapped lips trembled against your skin, and you felt a teardrop or two roll onto your own cheeks. 'Gotta stay with me, ok? Getting you help, so just gotta stay awake for me, go it?' You weakly nodded again, to which he whispered sweet praises in your ear and gently rocked your head in his lap.

'I-I love you,' you muttered, barely audible. He let out a dry chucke, although it held nothing but grief.

'I love you too, so so much, so keep fighting for me, doing so well,' the corner of your mouth raised slightly at his words, as much as your body would allow, and his grip on you tightened. His torso hunched down closer to you, occasionally brushing his wet nose against yours, or peppering your face with kisses. Your tears were mixed together at this point, you had no idea what was coming from who.

'M'tired,' fell from your lips as your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. Keigo nodded in understanding, bringing his hand from your head to hastily wipe his tears on his torn jacket sleeve.

'I know, baby, gotta stay awake for me, though,' he repeated. His breath hitched when he didn't get a response from you this time, except from your eyelids closing for a few seconds, then opening ever-so-slightly. He needed to do something, think of something to keep you awake. His eyes flitted around as he thought before resting back on you.

'Hey, baby?' He shook your head gently to get your attention, letting out his held breath when your eyes moved to his. 'How about I tell you about something really exciting, yeah? Know you can never sleep when you get excited,' he chuckled as he cried, forcing a smile onto his lips. His tone was something like his usual teasing manner, although he cracks and dips in his voice broke his facade. He felt one of your hands shift, coming to lightly grip onto his trouser leg in response. You also let out a huff of a breath, something adjacent to laughter. He sniffled again and smiled down at you as his thumb stroked your cheek. 'Gonna propose to you soon,' he confessed, a pained grin painting his face. Even despite the agony and blood, he still looked at you with the same adoring eyes as ever.

'Yeah?' You whispered, a tear escaping your eye and rolling onto his hand. He nodded, chuckling again.

'Yeah. Got you the prettiest ring and everything,' he saw something of a sparkle in your drooping eyes, so he continued. 'Gonna plan the most romantic, most cheesy proposal you can imagine,' your smile grew wider as you listened, gripping tighter on his trousers, although you had to take a few deep breathes, as deep as you could, before you could speak again.

'Figured, it's not Keigo if it's not dramatic,' he gasped, feigning shock at your words before nuzzling his nose against your cheek. With his face so close, he could feel that your breathes were getting shallower, and your neck was barely supporting you. His head moved back, glancing over you again.

'Dove?' He probed, but the only response was your grip on him fading.

'Baby?' He tried again, his voice growing more desperate. He could see your eyelids fighting to move - you were still holding on, even if barely.

Whenever danger struck, or things happened that pushed you back, Keigo was always there to hold you together and inject you with positivity and light, even if that meant pushing away his own pain and suffering. He didn't ever want to be one that broke in front of you, but now, at your most broken, he was falling apart. He needed you, he couldn't lose you, not like this.

'Fuck it,' he let out a groan and looked up to the grey sky as if to push past his torment, which startled you with what energy you had left. 'You know what? Fuck the engagement, fuck the planning, let's just get married,' his voice was louder than before, stronger. His gaze returned to you once more, relieved to see the dim curl of your lips. 'As soon as all this is over, let's get married. Would'd'ya like that?' He beamed down at you, an expression almost manic.

'Yeah,' you breathed as your eyes closed.

[these-written-reveries]

I have a special request

may we have a fluffy platonic oneshot for hawks w/ a reader with four angel wings where they’re a third year at UA but never got a date to prom, so he decides they deserve at least one dance and shows up as their date?

please and thank you 🪽

You absolutely may! I hope I did your request justice! You didn't specify, so I made Reader a hero course student. I know this is a platonic fic, but I can totally see the potential for a friends to lovers story here (don't mind me, I'm just a huge sucker for that trope lol). Thanks for the request! ❤️

Birds of a Feather

‣ Pairing: Keigo Takami/Hawks x GN!Reader (Platonic)

‣ Summary: Your good friend Hawks finds out you don't have a date to prom and decides to fix that problem himself!

‣ Genre: Fluff (angst, if you squint)

‣ Warnings: none

‣ Word Count: 2,042

‣ A/N: UA is considered a university in my fics. I know that universities generally don’t have proms, but this is fiction, so we can pretend whatever we want! Cue: UA third-year prom, feat. Hawks as a surprise guest! Let's go! (P.S. - I was listening to Words by Gregory Alan Isakov as I wrote this. I think it's a very nice song for slow dancing ♡)

➼ Main Masterlist ➼Keigo/Hawks Masterlist

If anyone were to tell you before that you’d end up becoming such close friends with the number two hero, Hawks, you’d never believe them.

To your past self’s shock, it had really happened. How exactly? You weren’t quite sure. Maybe it started on the first day of your internship? He immediately complimented your beautiful set of white tandem wings, asking you questions about them with pure awe and fascination in his eyes. You found it quite endearing of him.

Or maybe it was when you took down your first villain together and realized you made a kick-ass team? After that day, he immediately offered you a permanent position at his agency, once you graduated UA. You couldn’t have been more thrilled to receive this news from someone you had always admired and looked up to.

Perhaps it was after that, when you both bonded over your shared experiences related to having big wings in a mostly-wingless world? That day was one you would always think back on with fondness.

You told him a story about how, one time, you crashed mid-flight into a huge mud pit. You and your friend spent hours removing all the dried clumps between your feathers. He one-upped your story with one of his own, telling you about the time that he came home after fighting a villain with a petroleum oil quirk that had managed to coat his wings with the gooey substance, which made it nearly impossible to fly. After struggling for hours to remove it himself, with little success, he had to embarrassingly enlist the help of his assistant.

“I hope you have her a raise, after that,” you chuckled.

He joined you in your laughter. “Oh, I did. A very generous one, at that. She was a real trooper that day."

The two of you laughed a lot over your shared stories. Both of you were grateful to have a friend that understood the parts of yourselves that most others didn’t, especially Keigo, who barely had anyone he could call a true friend for almost his entire life. It was refreshing, being friends with you.

Because of this, he quickly grew to be extra protective of you, from the moment he took you under his wing. He kept close tabs on you and checked in on you whenever he had the time. It was always so nice getting to hear how things were going for you, how your grades were, and what the newest gossip was at UA. He’d always say, half-jokingly, that if anyone gave you trouble, he'd fly over and put an end to it immediately, which always got a laugh out of you. He just really enjoyed having "normal" conversations with someone about "normal" things, for once—especially since he never got to experience a lot of these things, such as public school or prom. It was fun getting to vicariously live through you, in this way.

Towards the end of his parole shift, he thought about you, wondering if you were having a good time at your prom that night. You had been looking forward to it for a while, telling him about what you planned to wear and who you secretly hoped would be your date. Last he spoke to you, you had yet to confirm an official date to the dance, but he was almost certain that problem was resolved by now. You were a wonderful person with gorgeous looks and an amazing personality, he had no doubt in your ability to acquire many “promposals”, or whatever the kids called it these days.

It wasn’t until he checked the recent post on your social media account that he realized you, in fact, did not have a date.

At first, he was utterly confused.

Why hadn’t you told him? He would’ve gone with you in a heartbeat.

Then, he remembered just how considerate of a person you were. He told you he’d be working late shifts all week and you likely didn’t bother to ask because of that reason.

He looked at the picture of you in your stunning prom outfit before checking the time. A sigh pushed past his lips as he took off into the sky, flying home as fast as he could.

Worst prom ever.

You felt like a total outsider at this place, despite being surrounded by familiar faces and music. Your friends all had dates and were busy having fun with them. Meanwhile, you busied yourself at the punch table, sighing as you poured yourself another cup. Some of the others without dates lingered in this corner of the large room, but none of them seemed all that keen on striking up a conversation with you. They all seemed to be too busy drowning in their own pools of boredom, longing, and self-pity.

You began to wonder why you even came to this event when you knew you didn’t have a date and your friends would all be too preoccupied with their own to entertain you. Well, you knew why, and it started and ended with a giant birdman by the name of Hawks. He had gifted you with a generous sum of money to buy yourself a nice outfit for prom after you had casually brought up in conversation that you were trying to save money for it. He refused to take it back, so you really didn’t have a choice but to use it. You ended up buying a gorgeous outfit that really complimented your wings. In the words of Hawks, you looked like an “ethereal angel”.

After buying the outfit and looking forward to the event for weeks, you couldn’t not go. Not without disappointing yourself, and probably Hawks too. He was always the one telling you that you needed to live life to the fullest and enjoy your experience at UA, while it lasted.

What you weren’t expecting was to feel so down and dejected, lingering by the punch table as you wistfully observed everyone else having fun like a lonely wallflower. You wanted to take Hawk’s advice and try to enjoy the moment anyway, but you found it too awkward to go out onto the dance floor without someone to dance with, and you weren’t too keen on asking someone you weren’t well-acquainted with to dance.

Still, you stole a glance at the other wallflowers in the corner, almost considering the idea.

You didn’t have a chance to, though, because you were distracted by the gasps and squeals of people all across the room. Following their eyes, you found the target of their attention to be a familiar red-winged man, in an unfamiliar looking outfit. An expensive-looking suit with a boutonniere pinned to the left lapel of his suit jacket. He flashed a charming smile and gave everyone a quick wave as his eyes scanned the room, finally landing on you.

You stared in shock as he walked over to you.

“Why, hello there, angel. Fancy meeting you here,” he said, smirking at your shocked expression.

“Hawks! What are you doing here?” you asked him with wide eyes.

He shrugged. “You know the saying, ‘birds of a feather flock together’? I heard my little chickadee was in need of a prom date, so naturally, I flew right over.”

You were aware of everyone’s eyes on you—something you had grown pretty used to after being with Hawks in public a good handful of times—but you were far too surprised to care as you looked him up and down.

“Your outfit. The colors match mine…”

“Of course they do. What kind of prom date do you think I am? I think what you mean to say is, I look handsome, right?” he teased.

You giggled at this. He always found a way to get you laughing with his witty remarks.

Nodding, you smiled up at him. “You do. Thank you for coming. You really didn’t have to do this.”

He gave you a small eye roll. “I wouldn’t be here unless I wanted to. And you deserve a proper prom experience. That said…”

Your eyes grew wide as he pulled out a beautiful corsage from behind his back. The flowers matched your outfit and his boutonniere perfectly.

"Hawks..." You couldn’t help the tears that began to build in your eyes.

"Oh, don't cry, angel! Your eyes will get all red and puffy! That's no good for prom pictures!" he said, brow scrunched in concern as he looked at you, partially wondering if he’d done something wrong, until you spoke.

"Sorry, it's just...nobody has ever done anything like this for me before. I was really thinking I'd be ending tonight on a bad note, until you showed,” you confessed, carefully wiping the underside of your eyes.

Keigo offered you a sympathetic smile as he stepped forward, holding out his hand, palm up. You held your left hand out to him and watched as he slipped the corsage onto your wrist.

"Well, let's make the most out of the time we have left. I know I kinda arrived last minute, but I also managed to make some arrangements for us that I think you’ll enjoy,” he said.

You looked at him, curious and confused. “What do you mean? Are we leaving?”

“Nope! We’re staying right here! Just us, the photographer, and the DJ,” he smiled, turning to look at the room, which was now completely empty, save for the two people he had mentioned.

How had you missed that?

“H-How?” was all that you could get out, as you looked around the room.

“The dance is technically over now, so I just extended our time a bit. Made a couple calls on my way here, bribed a few people, and here we are!” he explained, cheerfully.

You tried not to let your emotions get the better of you as you looked at him in astonishment.

“Hawks…I don’t even know what to say.”

He chuckled. “Well, I hope you’ll know what to say in response to my next question. There is only one right answer, so that narrows things down for ya’.”

You looked at him curiously, feeling a small pang of nervousness in your stomach as you awaited his question.

He bent forward into a bow, his eyes remaining locked with yours as he extended his right hand to you, his lips curved into a playful smile.

“May I have this dance?”

All nervousness instantly vanished and was replaced by pure giddiness as a bright smile overtook your face.

“Yes, you may,” you said, giggling as you placed your left hand in his.

He led you out to the middle of the dance floor and gave a nod to the DJ, who began playing a slow song through the surrounding speakers.

Turning to face you, Keigo gently grasped your right hand with his left, holding it near his chest. You smiled a bit sheepishly as you placed your free hand on his left bicep, just as he placed his right hand onto your middle back.

The two of you began to sway to the music. After a moment, you felt more at ease, finding that you seemed to move more naturally with each slow beat of the music.

You smiled at him. “I can’t thank you enough for doing all of this for me.”

Keigo earnestly returned your expression. “This is the least I can do for my special, feathered friend. I’m only sorry I couldn’t make it sooner.”

You scoffed. “Please. This is more than enough.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, angel.”

“I really am. Best prom ever,” you beamed at him.

Your contagious smile elicited a happy chuckle from him as he spun you around, being careful of your wings as he did so.

He pulled you back towards him and the two of you continued to dance together, laughing when you bumped him with your wings or when he accidentally stepped on your foot a little. You couldn’t have been happier, nor more grateful. Not only did you get the most perfect prom experience, but you got to spend it with your favorite red-feathered friend.

Like true birds of a feather, you knew you’d be flying together for a long time to come.

‣ If you enjoyed this fic, please like, comment, and/or reblog! Doing so not only keeps my blog alive, but also lets me know what you like and how to improve!

‣ Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send me a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

‣ If you’d like to join the taglist for Keigo Takami/Hawks, or be tagged in all of my future MHA writings, let me know by sending me an ask/message, or comment on this post!

‣ Taglist: @jslittlebirdie @xkatsukizukux @itsjudymoody @fandomenbylover

[bloodmoonmuses]

supercut- johnny suh

genre: johnny x reader, childhood friends to ex-best friends to lovers, a little bit of angst and a lotttttt of nostalgia <3

summary: time escapes you and johnny- a supercut of bliss and naivete, all glittery and rosy, morphing and everchanging over the years- until your paths cross once more.

(for @lovesuhng <3)

Seventh Grade.

Johnny Suh. The Boy With the Eye Smile. Or at least that’s how you’re introduced to him by your mother the week before seventh grade. In an effort to not be bogged down by the remnants of summer sloth in your system, you and your mother wake for breakfast despite not needing to do so this early.  They’re a bit of a formality, the set plates and cutlery as if it isn’t just the two of you on a Wednesday morning, but it’s sort of sweet you suppose. The sun hasn’t even risen entirely and sleep matter still resides in your eyes. 

“You’ve seen him, right? He should be around the same age as you,” your mother asks, taking a bite of her nearly burnt eggs. And you had seen him, Johnny Suh, yesterday. Flying a kite with a few younger boys in the neighborhood, plump cheeks made more prominent from the width of his smile. You remember noting that you didn’t recognize him- you would’ve remembered. He’s a head taller than a majority of the kids, lanky and heart-achingly gentle. How pure, you had thought as you watched him through your kitchen window. 

His family just moved to the neighborhood, your mother tells you, and you nod as she recounts such. 

“So close to the school year,” you respond in a muffled voice. 

“If you see him at school, you should say hi. And don’t speak with food in your mouth, honey.” You swallow the bite of your pancake promptly, anxious for the school year ahead, picturing that poppy red kite fluttering in the sky.

Johnny Suh With the Eye Smile is popular, you discover. And charismatic. And smart. And somehow he’s all of these things on the first day of school (and without being a douchebag). The two of you share a language arts class where your desk is three rows behind him. You quickly become acquainted with the back of his head, burning a hole into it, infatuated with how his hair reminds you of dandelion fluff- the choppy fuzziness of it… the way he sways as though stirred by a summer breeze.

He’s the type of kid that raises his hand in class even when he doesn’t know the answer. He makes everyone laugh (even Olivia Wilson who is known to have a stick up her ass. You conclude she must have a crush on him, as do many other girls). Johnny gives your language arts teacher a high-five on the way out of class. Johnny is cool. 

It’s only the first day of school and kids are clamoring to sit next to Johnny in the cafeteria, attempting to wave him over to their respective tables like he’s a local celebrity.  But he keeps walking, in his JNCO jeans and Tony Hawk t-shirt, and instead sits next to you: the quiet kid sitting at the back of the cafeteria alone. As he does so, the cacophony of the students’ voices dissipates for just a second, your brain unable to register anything other than Johnny choosing to sit by you of all people.

He sets his bright blue lunch tray on your table, feigning nonchalance. 

“Hi,” Johnny says, lips pressed into a pouty line. He opens his carton of chocolate milk.

You acknowledge him with a jut of your chin, an attempt at looking cool, then realize you have to actually speak. “Hey.”

“I’m Johnny.” 

“I know.” You say, biting into your sandwich. How couldn’t you?

Johnny nods, immediately cutting to the chase. “Yeah. Uh- I think I saw you-”

As you eat, the sandwich gets lodged in your throat and you cough briefly, caught off guard by Johnny’s bluntness. “Where?” you ask.

“Peeking out the window at me through your blinds… When I was flying that kite.” Right, you think. So he did see you. The eye contact wasn’t a fever dream. 

Scanning his decidedly neutral face, you say, “Oh. Sorry,” and Johnny shrugs at you. 

“Just wanted to let you know it wasn’t… my kite. I’m too old for that,” he whispers. 

So he’s here to protect his street cred’? Hilarious. 

“No worries. I think it’s cool.”

“Cool?” 

“That you were helping the other boys.”

Johnny pauses, confused that your take on the situation is benign, and you see the faintest blush appear across his face. Maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye. You wonder if you’ll ever see him any more bashful than this.

“Well.. I’ll see ya around?” he asks.

“Sure.”

Then he gets up to attend to his clamoring friends, leaving you in his afterglow. 

When the final bell rings, you race out of school in hopes of catching up with Johnny. Finally, you had someone to walk home with, you thought. No need to take the long way to avoid your fear of crossing the street alone. 

You’re sure Johnny is fearless.

When you find him, talking in a circle of school boys by the flagpole, you wave meekly across the green. Johnny waves back, walking over to you when the other kids peel out.

“Hi neighbor.” Johnny says. 

“Wanna walk home together?” you ask, “I can show you a shortcut.”

“Sounds good.”

And the rest is history, really. It didn’t take much, in hindsight. Kids become friends so easily. In part, due to proximity, but there’s something to be said about the intuition of a middle schooler. A sort of magnetism that sparks up like a struck match. Instant fire that burns hot and fast. That warms you from the inside out. In your chest, then your face, your gut… until it spreads to your fingertips.

Johnny is your neighbor. Then walking buddy. Classmate. Friend. Until one day, you realize he’s your best friend.

Freshman Year.

“-and then Johnny said I should dye a few streaks of my hair red because it would make me look edgy and I could walk to the skatepark with him- the one at the underpass a few blocks away- because I’d look super cool. Like Avril Levigne.” you ramble to your mother in one breath, like the words are involuntarily tumbling out of your mouth. Another summer has come and gone. You’re a little older, slightly wiser, but buoyant with youth. Knees in a perpetual state of bouncing, hormones in a perpetual state of chaos… It’s a week before your freshman year of high-school.

“Would you jump off a cliff if Johnny said you’d look super cool?” your mom asks in jest, feigning the artificial vocal fry you’ve adopted this month (a phase your mother hopes ends soon). 

You groan, teenage attitude not completely in check quite yet. “Of course not, Mom.” Well, maybe. If you had a parachute-

Shaking her head, your mother says, “Just saying, that boy is all you talk about these days.” 

She calls him “that boy” as if he isn’t at your place almost everyday. The only reason he’s not here now is because his family is on vacation. You make a mental note to text him.

“That’s not true.” It’s mostly true. But he’s your best friend. Aren’t you supposed to talk about them all the time?

Your mother pivots. “How do you feel about starting high-school?”

Contemplating on the question a bit, you shrug. “How should I feel?”

“I don’t know. That’s for you to decide,” she says sweetly, voice lilting with amusement.

“I think I’m excited.” You and Johnny had already put in your requests to have lockers next to one another. With him, you feel like you could brave the world. “Not nervous or anything.”

“Well, that’s good. Why is that?” she presses. 

Because I have Johnny, you think.

In the week leading up to your freshman year of highschool begins, you get braces. It hurts like hell, but you manage to get out of bed and meet Johnny at the neighborhood park, like you usually do, when he returns from vacation.

“Did it, like, hurt a lot?” Johnny asks you. You’re holding a bag of ice against your cheek.

The numbing has long since worn off, but the pain couldn’t nearly deter you from seeing Johnny in the flesh- his smile giving you energy just like it did all those years ago. A whole week without him… How you survived, you’re not sure. When your peers wondered why Johnny wasn't around, they went to you first. A known pair, you two, and the thought of such makes your heart swell with pride.

In a slurred fuss, you say, “What do you think, genius?” 

“Point taken. I thought I’d ask anyway.”

“Asshole,” you mumble. 

Johnny quirks an eyebrow, then says, “Are you, like, gonna be hot after you get your braces off?”

“Johnny, what are you even talking about right now?”

“Like the whole makeover montage in Princess Diaries. You should get contacts too.” You push your glasses up higher on your nose bridge. He’s joking but your chest constricts regardless. Johnny thinks you have the potential to be hot.

“Fuck you,” you say, your own laugh betraying the intended bite of your tone.

Johnny scoffs. “You wish.”

“Ew! Gross.”

“You’re blushing!” Johnny teases, and you jump off the swing in mid-air, giggling as you chase one another around the park like school children. 

Junior Year.

Johnny with the Eye Smile is your best friend and you love him, but you kind of hate him right now. Like, you want to punch him in the face and then kiss it better and then punch him again- the kind of hatred that makes your heart beat in your ears. But the hatred is fickle, a weak flame that dissipates as quickly as it flares up, as Johnny recounts his first kiss. He looks so giddy- an emotion you haven’t seen him wear often throughout the course of your friendship. 

Time escapes you and, before you know it, your junior year of highschool is coming to a close. Instead of being lost in summer’s wake, you’re confronted with its onslaught- the open-endedness of its impending descent…

You’re actually surprised it’s taken this long for Johnny to muster up the courage to kiss someone. There’s a long list of people you know for a fact would’ve loved to do so. Now, Johnny’s sitting on your bed, staring at the tapestries strewn to your ceiling, your room smelling of lavender and peeled oranges. You’re trying to tune him out, but his nervous hands demand your attention, fiddling fingers dancing across his abdomen like he’s playing the piano. You’ve never seen him like this. Not since the faintest blush graced his cheeks in the cafeteria on the day you met. And over a kite no less. This… this was serious. 

Johnny kissed someone. And it wasn’t you.

Johnny tsks. “I didn’t even think Olivia liked me-” he confesses.

“Wait. Olivia Wilson? From middle school? You kissed Olivia Wilson?”

“Why are you saying it like that?” Johnny asks with a furrow of his brow. Unbeknownst to you, you’re mirroring his confused expression.

“Saying it like what?”

He drags his hands over his face, sighing. “Like it’s hard to believe.” 

“No, I just meant… Olivia is…” you search for a word. Any word. “-cool.” She’s a blonde cheerleader who’s slated to be the class salutatorian at the very least, valedictorian if she really applies herself. She bakes cookies and keeps them in her car for when she encounters homeless people and tutors for kids free on the weekends. 

You hate her.

Your stomach lurches at the thought of her cradling Johnny’s face and you can almost smell her perfume- notes of licorice infiltrating your nostrils while you scrunch your nose. 

“Was it good? The kiss, I mean,” you practically wince out. 

“I think so,” Johnny says. “We, like, made out for a while. Then I drove her home and she kissed me again.”

“Wow.” What a lame thing to say, you think, but it’s the prevailing word at the front of your brain. Wow, Johnny really likes her. Wow, they’d look really good together. Wow, he kissed someone and it wasn’t you. 

“Yeah, wow.”

And you’re not sure what, but something green and molten bubbles up inside of you, uncontrollable and vicious, burning at the apex of your chest. “Well actually,” you start, prompting Johnny to look you in the eye, “I thought I saw her kissing Daniel Choi… the other week. After cheer practice.” A total lie that escapes you for whatever reason. “You know how athletics comes back to school a little earlier to train? I was, like, driving around and saw them, I think.”

His smile drops instantly. He believes you, because why wouldn’t he, and you want to take it all back. You want to say, “It’s a joke!” and hear that belly laugh of his, but the words never leave you. You just… can’t. 

It’s junior year, you reason with yourself. Nearly the summer before your senior year. You need him. You need this- whatever this is. 

“Wait, really?” Johnny asks. 

“She didn’t tell you?” you say, feigning shock. This is awful. You feel awful.

“No…” Johnny grows quiet. 

“It’s probably not serious,” you backtrack. “You know Daniel-”

“Whatever. Wanna drive around and listen to music?” Johnny grabs his keys in a rage before you can even answer.

You follow him out of your room wordlessly, a layer of sweat forming on your forehead, feeling relieved that you don’t have to talk about that God forsaken kiss anymore. The smell of licorice fades and instead you bask in Johnny’s musky vanilla. 

The illusion of serenity lasts one tortuous week.

“Hey, what the fuck, _______?” Johnny slams your locker shut in lieu of a greeting. The sound sends shockwaves through your body. 

The locker in front of which Johnny greets you everyday, eye-smile melting your heart a little more each time you see it. The locker inside which you’ve taped a polaroid of the two of you. The locker you two shared when Johnny forgot a sandwich in his and the stench of mold made it unusable. Your locker.

You lean against it, bracing for impact. Ready to double down. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem? Daniel said he’s never even spoken to Olivia, _______. She was gonna ask me to prom… I yelled at her last week.”

“I must’ve made a mistake, Johnny.” 

He fumes, nearly dry heaving as your words hit his ears. 

Then, softly, you say, “We can go to prom together.” You pick at the skin on your fingers, averting your gaze to anywhere but Johnny’s face- a tell of yours that Johnny knows all too well. In your periphery, you see he’s bright red.

“Are you seriously lying to me right now?”

“Johnny. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah. So tell me the truth.”

Your voice is barely about a whisper. “Olivia isn’t even your type…”

“Goodbye, _________,” Johnny says, devoid of any levity or lightness. His eyes are impossibly dark. A part of you thinks he’ll turn around, or meet you on the swingset later that day. And you wait there, keep your bedroom window open and check your phone obsessively, but he never comes. 

Johnny goes to Senior prom with Olivia Wilson the following year. 

Beyond.

You’re older now, much wiser, and far away from teenagedom. In fact, your teen years are a distant memory, so far removed that only the best parts of them appear in your daydreams- a supercut of bliss and naivete… glittery and rosy. 

You’re teleported back to the swingset where you’d talk to Johnny until the moon came out. To the tree under which you saw him fly that poppy red kite. To the porch where you finally had your first kiss after falling out with Johnny. 

To the dining table where you’d share pancakes with your mother.

You’re home for the holidays, back in Chicago, and your house smells of cinnamon and vanilla. The nostalgia comes in vicious waves- choppy, foamy and salty. Tear stained cheeks on random afternoons. Then in gentle, comforting ones that lull you to sleep like a lullaby. 

Being back in town after graduating college makes your bones feel weird. The way you move around your home now is less intuitive. It’s more like walking through a museum, fingers aching to graze the artifacts of your youth. Photos faded with a thin layer of dust, participation ribbons from Little League, old school uniforms tucked away in boxes.

“Mom!” you call out to her from upstairs, “Do you think I still have my highschool yearbook here?”

“Yes, it’s with my scrapbooking supplies in the craft room.”

You practically bolt there, settling on the floor once you’ve located the blue book, flipping frantically until you find Johnny’s picture. 

Your best friend with the fluffy dandelion hair and soft demeanor. His senior photo is slightly faded from how often you used to thumb through the yearbook.

You remember loving him from a distance after that ill-fated day, the abruptness of the friendship’s end too much for you to handle. So you took the scraps. The wayward glances from Johnny, the check-ins from his mom, when he accidentally sent his graduation party invitation in the mail… The two of you co-existed, parallel to one another but never intersecting- in stark contrast to how intertwined you once were. Your chest aches at the memory.

“________, my love, can you come downstairs for a sec?” your mother calls distantly. You close the yearbook solemnly and make your way down. “Can you run to the grocery store for me?” she asks. “We’re out of eggs.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Shrugging on a coat and putting on another pair of socks, you prepare to brave the elements. You decide to take the train, so you can admire the winter wonderland outside. When you don’t think about how much of an inconvenience the snow is, it’s beautiful- the untouched banks on the side of the road, all pristine and crystalline. 

The mounds sparkle and crunch beneath you as your trod to the station, which luckily is a quick walk from your place. The city whips past you, a blur of sleek skyscrapers contrasted against graffiti buildings, and you’re at the bodega before you know it. 

Quickly, you locate the eggs, placing them in your basket, and scour the little corner store for a few more goodies. As you reach for a box of instant hot cocoa, you feel someone materialize next to you. The stasis of the store would have it seem this city’s a ghost town, though Chicago is far from one, but the person startles you regardless. You jump back a bit, muttering a half-hearted, “Excuse me,” before realizing you know him. There’s no way…

“Oh, sorry-” Johnny comes to the realization at the same time you do, retracting his hand from the box. 

Your hand is frozen in space, eyes scanning his form to make sure he’s real. His hair is short with blonde highlights and his glasses are massive, giving him a cartoonish look. His puffer jacket is also massive, all bundled up and pillowy like a marshmallow.

You smile to yourself briefly, before sputtering, “How long has it been?”

Without missing a beat, Johnny says, “Six years.” Has he been counting?

“You look like the Michelin Man with glasses,” you say.

Johnny chortles. “You got your braces off.”

“Am I finally hot?” you joke, “like in Princess Diaries?” 

And it’s probably from the cold, but you swear Johnny blushes as he shrugs and says, “Jury’s still out on that one.”

“Here,” you start, getting back to the task at hand, “lemme grab that for you.” You pick up two boxes of the hot cocoa mix and place them in your basket. 

“You don’t have to-” Johnny stammers, shaking his head.

“It’s the least I can do.” (-which is probably an understatement.) 

The two of you walk to the cash register where you buy both his and your items.

“Is this all you came out for?” you ask Johnny.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Clearing your throat, you force out your next question, the voice that squeaks out of you sounding foreign. “Where ya heading- if you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“Nowhere fast. I drove here actually. What about you?”

“Train.”

“Cool…”  

Would you jump off a cliff if Johnny said you’d look super cool?

Johnny rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting for you to break the silence. You oblige him. “Well, it was nice seeing you Johnny. Happy holidays.” you start to walk in the opposite direction, until Johnny says-

“Actually- wanna go to the park?”

—

“This is soooo weird,” you chuckle as you swing back and forth, the nippy air feeling like a thousand cuts on your face. Your nostrils burn with each inhale, and the run-off of slightly melted snow trickles as it moves down the hill.

“Being back here?” Johnny’s voice is close, then distant, then close again, as he swings alongside (and much higher than) you.

“Yeah, it’s like I just stepped into a time machine.” And it’s true- you feel like that kid whispering about the new kid over pancakes. His fingertips are bright red.

“Except you were spying on me from your bedroom window,” Johnny scoffs.

You groan. “I explained a thousand times that I was just-”

��Just because you explain something, it doesn’t make it less creepy! And-”

“-making sure the kite didn’t get stuck in a tree.” you shout over his accusations, cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling.

Johnny shakes his head, heaving from his laughter. “Your ‘explanation’ is total bullshit, by the way.” 

You sigh. “Guess I’m never living that down.”

When the both of you settle, sitting on the swings instead of kicking back and forth, you take a moment to drink up Johnny’s features. He’s even taller, somehow, lankiness morphed into dashing height. Awkwardness morphed into a charming stride. Eye-smile morphed into a blinding grin.

Your mind is racing. You have so much you want to say to him. So much to ask. Six years… where does the time go?

“You’ll never guess who I had my first kiss with in Ju” you giggle at yourself because, of all things, you can’t believe that’s what you decide on. Regardless, it’s a funny story. 

Again, Johnny scoffs. “Daniel Choi, right?”

“Wait, who told you that!?”

“He was bragging about it for three weeks. I nearly punched the guy.”

The two of you weren’t even friends at that point.

“You’re ridiculous!”

More silence falls over you, draping itself densely over your shoulders- stasis from how sheerly overwhelmed you are at the words on the tip of your tongue. You feel Johnny’s anxiety too, it radiating in waves off of him, but it’s not awkward. The two of you wade in the stillness, slight movements yanking on the bars of their metaphorical enclosure. Your sniffling, twitching nose. Fidgeting fingers. Johnny’s bouncing knees and pounding heart.

That is, until the silence is no more- Johnny just barely breaching it by saying, “It should’ve been me. I should’ve kissed you.” 

Then he stands before you, grasping the swing chains just above where you’re holding them and effectively envelopes you in his warmth. Johnny’s proximity makes you shudder and you look up at him, eyes as bright as they were when he was younger.

“I could’ve been.” Then, in a hushed voice, you add, “It can be.”

Then, as he grasps your face with his ice cold hands, Johnny places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You giggle into it, the clunkiness and trepidation, then recapture his lips in a real kiss. This kiss is all encompassing, your entire face ablaze while you deepen it, your lips yearning for and experiencing lost time in a confusing clamoring. You’re practically clawing at Johnny up until the point of you pulling away for air.

Johnny scans your face, smirking at the way you’re panting. “You are kinda hot without the braces,” he says.

“You’re actually the worst.”

And, yet again, he shrugs. “Okay, but you love it though.”

“I guess…”

As you lean in for another kiss, you hear a scream. When you whip your head around, you giggle at the sight:

A kiddo on the other side of the playground flying a poppy red kite in the dead of winter.

a/n: unedited and feedback is always appreciated! <3

[libertyybellls]

KILLS TO KNOW !

part one

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; set in his ways, finnick got the best of you- you’d forgiven him- but you are so quick to temper.

contains; ANGST, self hatred, insults, mean!reader (she got her get-back fr fr), if ykwim, manipulation, mentions of forced prostitution.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you and finnick had talked, briefly. you’d formed an alliance- it killed you like a disease. all for plutarchs plan of rebellion which had worked, except for peeta and johanna- oh, peeta and johanna

you felt physically sick seeing the young boy on capitol news, and to have the intuition of knowing what they’d likely done to johanna- it all made you sick.

katniss and finnick had been sedated upon arrival to district thirteen, you’d been much too preoccupied with the bullet wound in your abdomen to care. it seemed it was torment after torment after torment in the third quarter quell.

blood rain, monkeys, poisonous fog, and worst of all- after you, johanna, beetee, and wiress found the others after the blood rain and unfortunate death of johanna’s district partner, finnick looked at you with pity.

soaked in somebody else’s blood, frantically washing it off in the water whilst johanna gets it out of your hair, how dare he look at you with pity?

now here you were, in such an extravagant set of a hospital gown, unable to make any moves without the hawk eyes of a nurse.

it wasn’t until your curtain flew open- your hopefulness begged it to be news of a rescue but much to your dismay, it was only finnick.

he didn’t say anything, he just looked into your careless eyes and face that lacked its old vibrancy.

“they had to sedate me.” he doesn’t look too good either, his under eyes are grey and red- but what do you care, right? “they had to sedate me because i wouldn’t stop screaming for you.”

you had to bite back a snarky response, or bile- you didn’t know. “will you leave me alone if i tell you how much i care?” to you, right now, that wasn’t snarky. that was honest.

he only pinched the bridge of his nose- it seemed he’d purposefully locked himself out of your mind and couldn’t get the door to open again. “there’s so much i wanted to say, that i couldn’t. because i have cared, y/n. each and every minute since i met you i’ve cared and it didn’t stop after that night.”

you laughed- in his face. your ears must be deceiving you. there was no way finnick odair in his right mind had come to his knees and begged you to understand him? to reason with him?

“the capitol taught their darling well, i almost believed your act for a second, finnick.” you spit his name out- like fire on your tongue, desperate to have the word leave your mouth- it left a bitter taste. “if you came here to have me understand you- you’re four years late.”

you knew how to press his buttons, but he knew how to press yours too- how could you forget? it was the last thing he’d ever done to you- defile you at your most vulnerable- desecrate you when you had only ever beamed at him with pure love and adoration.

“i had to protect you, if only you’d let me speak you’d understand-“

“no! i don’t want to understand finnick! i don’t want to hear you speak or explain. i healed myself from the torture that is you. so i hope im not spoiling your glory or satisfaction from winning me over again, but i will not be left to put myself back together again because of you- i’ve lost the hatred and anger, all i am now is over it.”

you were right, he was a form of torture- knowing him was a dark sickness of death and pain- but he thought it would have been left in the districts- not here. he thought he could explain now- but you were utterly closed off at him. finnick held his pleas in- his wails of sorrow- all these years he held them in, all he had to do now was manage to snuff them out.

“things are different now.” he annunciated each word, made then sharp, made you really listen to what he was saying. “i’m not going to excuse what i said, or how i left you. but it was different then- we aren’t in the capitol anymore.”

you were confused at what he was insinuating, so you let him continue this time.

“it was the only way to keep you away from harm.” if by harm, he meant the life or death prostitution you faced on a monthly basis- then he’d failed miserably at protecting you- but you were wrong.

“i’ve heard whispers of what they’d make us do, y/n.”

us?

“snow had made his points very clear, i had two options but i made my own choice- i had to leave you.”

your eyes were burning into his, red brimmed and damp. you wanted to speak but the sinking feeling in your stomach suppressed it all.

there was something in his eyes, something you hadn’t seen since he held you all those years ago- kissing your forhead as the sobs wrecked through your body. the blood of kids your age still so fresh on your hands, heavy on your mind.

“i believe you.” it was all you could let out, you didn’t want to cry in front of him- you didn’t even know why this all hurt you so much. all these years you spent hating someone who had only done what he had done to protect you from him. you hated someone who already so deeply hated himself he let go of the only good thing in your his life to save it.

“it’s not your fault.” he reached out to you- hand running over your knuckles that lie in your lap. you don’t respond, your jaw is clenched and it doesn’t matter how long you’d been apart he can read you like an open book. finnick knows you’re fighting back tears, that you’re blaming yourself, you’re almost as self destructive as him. “y/n, it’s not your fault.”

he could repeat it all he wants but it won’t stop you from thinking it’s true, not now- maybe not ever.

but maybe he’d teach you how to forgive yourself- he who knows best than anyone. and maybe you’d teach him too. maybe you’d be help eachother heal.

-

masterlist

[sykeskassie]

Leave Me Your Stardust To Remember You By; Pt. 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: ANGST!! No comfort in this one, but implied comfort is on the way. A/N: Inspired by one of my all time favorite songs. Truly, I got hit with the idea on my way home from work yesterday and rolled with it.

Pt. 2 Pt.3

When I turn jet black and you show off your light/ I live to let you shine

You had known Chris almost as long as you had known yourself. Where you began and he ended, no one seemed to know. So many

had told you that when he left for Korea at the tender age of thirteen not to be surprised if the two of you grew apart. It was one of the reasons that he had hesitations about leaving. But you had seen the talent he had, and the drive he possessed. So you sent your best friend off with the promise you would look after his siblings like they were your own, and that you would be with him every step of the way. 

But you can skyrocket away from me/ And never come back if you find another galaxy

It would be years before you got to see him in person again. He was busy with training, and school, and everything in between. However, your love for each other never wavered. You spoke on the phone as often as you could both make time, battling the time zones and the day to day. You never went more than a day without emailing each other, and later on, texting. You made it a point to let him know he wasn’t forgotten, no matter how many miles separated you.

Just leave me your stardust to remember you by

You would sometimes wonder if you would outgrow each other, the way you had outgrown the hoodie he had gifted you when he left. “To make sure you don’t forget me,” he had said, as if that was even a possibility. He was the star in your sky, shining as brilliantly as his smile did. But you never did outgrow him, and he always made sure to send you a new hoodie every year, on the anniversary of his leaving. 

If you’ll be my boat, I’ll be your sea/ A depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity 

As you grew, your love did too. It shifted, and morphed, until it took on an entirely new form. You were still best friends, seemingly the closest to ever exist; you thought that would never change. However, your love shifted from an endless blue to a swirling purple. Suddenly all the ‘I love you’s exchanged held a different weight. Without any warning, you were in love with Chris. When you told him after hours, days, weeks of contemplation, he had the audacity to tell you that he had known. “I didn’t think it needed saying, because it was just a fact. You’re in love with me, and I’m in love with you. Not even oceans could stop that from happening.” You no longer had to hold onto that childlike question of who your Prince Charming was; you had known him all along. 

Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze/ I live to make you free

It turned out that loving Chris in a different way was easy. What was not easy was realizing how much you ached to have him by your side again. You made the effort to see him as often as you could; you had piles of airline miles between the two of you. You had met all of the kids, something that thrilled you since you had been a sounding board when he was handpicking them. They had become such an instrumental part in your life. They would constantly text you, or call you when they got the chance. If Chris was ‘dad’, you were ‘mom’, despite the distance. When Chris would hole up in the studio and go hours without moving, they would call you to get him moving. When he would get too far into his head, it was you they texted to bring him back to them. No one knew him better than you did. 

But you can set sail to the west if you want to/ And past the horizon, ‘til I can’t even see you

As Stray Kids got bigger and bigger, the opportunities for visiting got smaller and smaller. Dates would be arranged, tickets would be booked, and then something would have to be moved around. Schedules would shift, tour dates would get added on, extra promotions would pop up seemingly out of nowhere. It had seemed like such a slow progression —you were used to having to adjust to his schedule, as you had been for years— that you both hadn’t realized how much time had passed until you didn’t get your yearly hoodie. It was tradition to call every year on the anniversary of his leaving, and you hadn’t missed one yet. You could explain away the missing hoodie (perhaps the postal service was running behind this year? Maybe the package had gotten lost?), but to have missed calls and radio silence? You couldn’t come up with an excuse for that. You opened up your text thread to see the stack of unanswered messages from you, scrolling to find the occasional text from Chris that seemed to always be an apology for not being available. With an ‘I love you’ sent off, you closed your phone and tried to pretend that a crack hadn’t formed in the foundation of your relationship. 

Far from here where the beaches are wide/ Just leave me your wake to remember you by

You never did mention the hoodie that had never got sent, and neither did Chris. You couldn’t say if he was avoiding it the way you were, or if he genuinely didn’t remember. Honestly, you weren’t sure which would hurt worse and you didn’t really want to find out. He eventually called you back, apologizing again for not being able to pick up when you had called…and called…and called. “We were working on the song for the new comeback, and you know how the kids get when we get really into it. I noticed you had called a few times, is everything okay?” You played it off like you just missed his voice. Something fundamental had changed between you two, and you weren’t really sure why you couldn’t address it. Maybe it was the fear that acknowledging it would make it real. He assured you that once the comeback came out and promotions were done, there would be more time for each other. He even told you that one of the songs he had written for you. Ironically, he said it was “to make sure you don’t forget me”, and you had to bite your tongue from saying that it wasn’t you who was likely to forget about him. 

When I turn jet black and you show off your light/ I live to let you shine

Eventually, you found out where you began and where Chris ended. It started the day you had gathered every hoodie he had ever given you. You held each one to you before folding it up, tucking the sorrow and emptiness you felt in each fold of the cloth. They had long stopped smelling like him, but if you tried hard enough you could still remember it. You started from the last you ever got, and ended with the one that seemed so small now. It was over a decade old at this point and you could hardly believe that either of you ever fit into it. As you set them all in a box, you grabbed your phone. You typed out a message in the group chat that had seen less and less of all of you in the last months, letting the kids know to take care of themselves, take care of their leader, and that you would be cheering them on always. Before anyone could respond, you left the group chat, blocked all their numbers, and set about finding a pen and paper. On top of the hoodie that signified the beginning and the end, you left a goodbye for the love of your life. 

But you can skyrocket away from me

And never come back if you find another galaxy

Far from here with more room to fly

Just leave me your stardust to remember you by

[mvltisstuff]

hi!! so i have this idea and i think you’d be perfect to execute it. if you wouldn’t mind-

could you do a possible buck one-shot where maybe the reader is there when buck gets struck by lightening? just full of angst and sadness and maybe the reader has to be held back by eddie or hen or something and it’s like the world stopped for reader and just some sad stuff.

thank you so so much!! <33

bad omens - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @tvuniverse

a/n: hey there ;)) i’m so happy you trusted me with your lovely idea, i hope you love it!

lightning never scared y/n. she always saw them as innocent storms, one in a million chances. a rumble of thunder was just a bowling ball, and lightning was just someone turning a light on in heaven. she was never fearful of seeing lightning brighten up the sky, until it threatened to take down her sun.

one in a million chance to be struck by lightning, and the love of her life was the one. she didn’t know who to hate. herself for letting buck go up there. mother nature for letting this happen. buck for his bravery and skill. she hated how the one in a million chance left her sweaty hand grasping bucks on the bed, seeing the tube lay in his throat and his chest mechanically rise. she hated how the day old, damp uniform she was clad in felt on her body. she hated the way bucks closed eyes might never open again to show off his blues. there wasn’t a part of it she didn’t hate.

she was so happy that day, everything had gone perfectly fine. she loved days like this, but the night quickly turned to the worst day of her life.

staring at bucks dangling body from the ladder. trying not to smell the burning mark that the strike left over the area. her feet moved faster than her mind, instantly running to buck as he hung lifelessly from a rope. it felt like a dream, a nightmare. as if there were a demon chasing her, and she couldn’t run away, she just had to face it. henrietta and chimney’s arms were locked on each of y/n’s, pulling her body weight back so she couldn’t run.

the raw screams of eddie yelling for his best friend echoed in the dim hospital room. the earth had halted on its axis, leaving y/n upside down in the middle of the world, holding the hand of hers.

he was rolled away so fast into the hospital doors, not even giving her a chance to land the last kiss on his head. not giving her a chance to say what could’ve been goodbye. the people around her became non-existent. she stood behind, watching from the sliding doors of the hospital.

“come on, buck, hang on buddy!” chimney says.

“do more!” eddie yells back to the nurses and paramedics.

y/n didn’t say a word. not a single sentence could describe the chains wrapped around her heart. nothing could break her free from the prison she was being held in. her team looked at her standing behind, just watching her hands fall to her sides. her lips were parted, with short breaths leaving her mouth. her face was beet red from the anger, confusion, and the pure horror.

she refused to leave as she watched over bucks body like a hawk. she refused to pay attention to maddies sobs as chimney tells her what happened to her baby brother. she wants to scream, she want to bawl her eyes out in agony, but she can’t.

“y/n,” hen says, stepping into the room first to try and snap y/n out of her mind. “i brought you clothes. you should change, you’ll get sick in that cold, wet stuff.”

“thank you,” she murmurs. “i’ll stay here.”

“y/n, sweetie-“

“don’t. i want to stay right here. i’m not going anywhere.” hen wanted to object, but she knew that no one was moving y/n until she was ready.

chimney and maddie came in next, maddies heart physically breaking at the look on y/n’s face as she sat next to buck and his unchanging position. chimney tried to coerce her into changing, or even eating.

“y/n/n, you should eat something, it’s not good to let yourself fall away. he’d want you to take care of yourself.”

“he’d want me here with him. im not that hungry anyway,” she tells him, not being sure if she’d be able to keep anything down.

it was eventually bobby who made his way in, noticing y/n’s hair collect frizz and her eyelids darken.

“im not going anywhere, cap.”

“im not asking you to go anywhere.” bobby speaks, a calming aura leaving his words. she only looks up for a moment, and looking back down to buck. “im going to pray, if you’d like to join me.”

bobby began saying his prayers, and y/n hoped to any god listening that they’d listen. she wasn’t ever the religious type, but faith was all she needed, and unfortunately all she was left with.

the hours ticked by, on and on, until the doctors decided buck was ready. that is, to live or die. they said that he would be dead if he didn’t take a breath on his own when he was no longer intubated. a part of y/n wanted to put it off. if that tube was removed and he didn’t do what he needed, she’ll have lost him forever from the electricity in the sky. he’d become one with the thing that killed him. at least now she could hold his hand and believe that maybe he’d come back.

as bucks mother and father watched over him, and maddie stood in the corner, fearful to watch his brother swing on the lines of death and life, y/n remained in the warm but uncomfortable chair she had been in for too long, barely ever being able to stand. no one had ever seen her so low, horrified that she wouldn’t make it out without buck.

“are you ready?” the doctor questions, asking the family if they want to possible take the life from buck in this moment.

his parents nod, looking over to maddie as her brows scrunch together, but also complying. all four of them look over to y/n, seeing her eyes locked on bucks shut ones. “not really, but go ahead.”

the tube was taken out painfully slow, the room so quiet that the beeping of his heart monitor felt like fireworks. the air was thick and eerie, almost ready to accept buck into the darkness.

what y/n would never know, is that buck watched from the other room. he saw her falling apart, and ignored his other form. if he gave up, he’d be giving up on her. she’s been there for him through everything, and he has never once seen her look so alone, even surrounded by all these supportive people. he didn’t even want to her his alter speak any more, as he grabbed his sledgehammer and shattered the glass separating him from the rest of his life.

his chest rose quickly and tall, the sharp air entering his nose as y/n could only graze the skin on his hand. each breath from buck came one by one after, a perfect rhythm that she could find herself falling asleep to as she lays on his chest.

each breath he took left a crack in her heart, another water droplet in her eye ready to fall.

“i have high hopes for him, everyone.” the doctor smiles, looking at y/n as they all look between her and buck.

she cries. she cries more than she ever has before, soaking the blanket besides buck more than the rain on the day he was almost taken. her chest heaves, her breathing worse than the ill man in front of her. the wet streams fall down her cheeks and pool on her neck, sniffling in to keep her completely from falling apart.

buck spends the next strenuous hours waking up from his coma, knowing what waits for him when he rouses. she still remains, wanting to be there for him when he regains consciousness. she wants her hand to be on his, and his eyes to meet hers. his soft lids and long lashes flutter, revealing his tired, bright blue eyes to the world that has tried to hard to ruin it. he’s met with the universe in front of him, the small curl on y/n’s lips and the beauty she carries around with her.

“nice of you to join us,” she smiles, her voice cracking from exhaustion. he looks less tired, almost transferring energy to her. “i missed you.” understatement.

“i knew you’d be waiting for me. never had doubts about that.”

“if you ever try to leave me again, i’ll kill you myself.”

“i am never leaving someone like you.” the couple just smiles back at the other, his hand cupping the side of her cheek. “come kiss me.”

she obliges, standing up from her chair and letting him pull her closer. her lips press against his, letting themselves fall into the foreign grasp of the other. he lets his hands wander over her body, running them all over the places he loves more than anything. he finally brings himself to pull away and look at her face, the need for cleanliness and sleep written all over it.

“now, go take care of yourself, please. i’m not going anywhere.”

[keigo-takamis-no-1-simp]

Ｈａｗｋｓ Ｘ Ｒｅａｄｅｒ - Ｌｅａｒｎｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｌｏｖｅ: Ｉ＇ｍ Ｓｏ Ｓｏｒｒｙ

TW/CW: Mentions/depictions of abuse/neglect, Mentions of SA, Depictions of a panic attack, Mentions of miscarriage

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Hawks x Reader

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: You're not just sick... there's something much darker than that lurking under the surface. Yet, the hospital Keigo takes you too seems way too familiar for your own comfort...

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Angst with comfort (Primarily angst here- you've been warned)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2778 

𝚃𝚊𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @marydragneell, @numblytemporary, @rainycloud858

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚃𝚠𝚘 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚂𝚒𝚡 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 / 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎

When Atsuki called Keigo to ask him for a favor, he was surprised. After all, he worked with him maybe once or twice. But the sort of panic in his voice, and how he spoke about you- he couldn’t say no. Atuski was a good kid, and had a bright future ahead of him. 

You did too, even if you couldn’t see it. 

Besides, after that little accidental date, it was hard not to think about you. You were stunning aesthetically, but you were also kind. Funny, witty- and you had a gentle soul. Yet… you were adverse to touch. He picked up on that quickly once you’d tensed- and the scent of cortisol was overwhelming. 

Now, here you were, sick with something and clearly more than a little delirious. And he can’t touch you. Nervous trills and clicks leave his throat as he waits for Shouta to call him back with Eri’s recommendations. She’s become a healthcare worker, something Shouta heavily praised and supported her throughout. Hell Keigo hardly knew the kid and was proud. 

But right now, you seriously need to cool off. “Dove, you’re really warm…” He murmurs, clicking his tongue again in thought. A feather retrieves a damp, cool washcloth. He carefully lays it across your forehead, and you let out a soft sigh of relief. Something comes from your lips.

“... ‘m ok, really, just tired..” You try, sitting up slowly. You sway ever so slightly, swallowing hard. His brows furrow as he watches you. 

“Mmm, I think you’re sicker than you’re letting on,” He teases a bit, though there’s no bite to his tone at all. 

“... no time to lay down..” You murmur, trying to sit up more- and a few feathers gently push you back into bed to ensure the rag doesn’t fall from your forehead. 

“Listen, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way- but you look awful. Just let me help you a bit, yeah?” He hums, though some part of his weird bird brain is going haywire. He needs to help you feel better. He needs to fix this. He can fix a lot of things, like dislocations, dressing wounds, helping someone calm down- but he can’t just fix this. 

He feels almost useless. Almost. 

“... sorry..” You murmur, slumping against him- then jerking away. Touch clearly was still difficult, despite the fever and god knows what else. 

“Kid, please,” He whispers. It physically pained him to see you like this- you reminded him of someone he used to know, someone he used to love. He couldn’t do anything back then… but he’s sure as hell determined to do something now. 

You groan shifting to get up again- but you stumble into the bathroom. You kneel over the toilet, and start to vomit. He winces at the sound, wings twitching with discomfort. 

He steps in after you, unbothered by the scent. When you’ve met someone who literally smells like burning hair and flesh, vomit isn’t a big deal. He pulls your hair back- and while he wants to try and comfort you, touch is a big no no still. 

Coughing and sputtering, you lean on the toilet heavily. It’s pure bile. You sit there, dry heaving, with bits of bile occasionally coming up. It HURTS, your abdominal muscles clenching and shuddering. Finally, once it stops, you take in a shaky breath and speak.

 "I- I’m fine, I swear," you murmur, and he balks.

"Fine, my ass! You just threw up everything in your stomach and then proceeded to dry heave for the next five minutes!" When you wince, he sighs. 

“... ‘m sorry..” You murmur, eyes fluttering as you place your forehead on the rim of the toilet. The cool porcelain feels amazing against your flushed face. He frowns, tilting his head. 

“For what..? You can’t control getting sick..” he murmurs, brows pinching together. 

“... all of this..” You murmur. Then, it hits him. You’re delirious and dehydrated to all hell. A feather shoots off to get a water bottle- anything, really. Upon bringing it back, he shakes his head. 

“Don’t be… I need you to try and drink some of this for me, do you think you  can do that?” He carefully brushes your hair out of your face, not touching your skin. You hum, leaning back. 

He unscrews the lid, gently tipping it to where the water will slowly enter your mouth. As you begin to drink, he can’t stop the cooing noises that escape him. “There we go, good girl..” He hums, and you seem to like that somewhat. 

He gives you a moment, a soft smile on his lips. “You’re doing so good, Dove… I’m sorry you’re sick, but ‘s ok. I gotcha.” He hums, and as you try to murmur another apology, he tuts lightly. 

“None of that.” You shift, looking up at him with bleary eyes. He gives you a small smile. Your eyes flutter shut, and you wobble slightly. Your face pales, and his follows suit. “H-hey-” He tries, but it’s too late. You’re out cold. Before your head can hit the ground, he’s got you. 

“Fucking- Shit-” He curses, wings flapping in annoyance. A trill escapes his throat again. “Fuck all of this, we’re going to a hospital.” 

He picks you up bridal style, and you whimper. His eyes shift to you, and you’re trying to adjust in his grasp. He lets you make yourself somewhat comfortable, then uses his feathers to get a jacket to cover you. He can deal with chilly weather- but in your condition, he’s worried it could kill you. 

His feathers open his balcony doors, and he crouches- before shooting up into the air. As he glides through the air at breakneck speed, he can’t help but wonder what sort of expression you’d have if you were conscious. Were you afraid of heights? Or would you love this..?

A theory to test later, perhaps. 

He lands on the roof of a private hospital. The last thing either of you need is the press up your ass. 

Feathers open the double doors, and he heads inside. The first nurse he sees takes one look at them, and she pales. “Mr. Hawks, what-” 

“Something’s wrong. She’s sick, I know that much, but it doesn’t- somethings wrong.” He trills, wings fluffed and flapping a little. Your heart rate is too slow, your scent told him you were sick, you were vomiting- and you passed out. “Please,” He pleads, and that seems to snap her out of her stupor. 

She pulls out what looks like a small phone, and begins to talk into it. A few more nurses rush down the hall, immediately taking vitals and putting in an IV. Someone’s ordering fluids, someone else is ordering labs- it’s a sudden rush of people. All to take care of you. 

In the pure chaos, He keeps a feather wrapped around your wrist to know where you are. How you’re doing. His anxiety isn’t exactly quelled by the fact these nurses were attaching oxygen to you and running the line under your nose. 

“How are you related to the patient?” One of the nurses suddenly approaches him, and he’s ripped from his thoughts. Shit- he’d have to come up with something convincing 

“Her boyfriend. What’s going on?” The shouting and blur of people rushing around him is almost overwhelming. The nurse takes a moment to respond. 

“I’m sorry to inform you… your girlfriend has had a miscarriage. She was barely more than 5 or 6 weeks along.” His blood runs ice cold. 

You were pregnant… with what could only be presumed to be your ex’s child. His fists clench at his sides, and he finds himself asking the question he dreaded most before he can stop himself. “Do you… do you know what caused it?” He grits his teeth. The answer he got was worse than what he assumed. 

“Blunt force trauma, likely due to abuse. Her body- she’s lost a lot of blood, and due to how recent the loss is, her body is going into shock triggered by her illness.” For a moment, the world stops. There’s no longer people rushing around him, no longer a gurney with someone he swears he knows- just… a sense of loss. 

“She had a child..?” Is all he can murmur out. From what he could tell, your ex was a piece of work. You probably didn’t even know about the pregnancy in the first place- fuck, was it one you even wanted? Thoughts race through his mind faster than he could even consider flying. 

Your ex had knocked you up, dumped you- and because of what he can only assume to be abuse, you lost the kid. 

You lost a piece of yourself. And you didn’t even know. 

He’s snapped out of his own mind by someone placing a hand on his arm. He jerks away out of instinct, and a nurse holds up her hands in a defensive position. His amber gaze softens, and both his wings and shoulders slump. “We’ve got her stabilized. Fluids, a blood transfusion, oxygen and antibiotics. She’ll be ok,” The nurse gives him a small smile. 

“... thank you,” His voice is almost hoarse, and he dips his head in thanks. She nods, glancing down the hall. 

“Room 607- We aren’t sure when she’ll wake up, but she’s just resting. Everything came back either good, or as an easy fix.” He nods again, eyes flicking back up to the hall. 

Without another word, he strides forward. Here, he has to put on that stupid hero persona. Like the person he went on a date with at least 12 hours ago wasn’t in the hospital. Like he didn’t learn they had a miscarriage because of their ex. Like he didn’t know them at all. 

Absolute bullshit. 

He knocks on the door a bit, then peeks through the small opening. You’re hooked up to several different IV lines, oxygen, and something to sense your vitals. Keigo is careful, not wanting to awaken you too prematurely. You looked exhausted, and… 

You were beautiful when you slept. 

The tubes and wires didn’t take away from that. Even now, with bags of blood and saline pumping into you, you looked at utter peace. It was oddly comforting, despite everything that’s happened. One of his hands carefully reaches forward, as if even the slightest mistake would awaken you. 

His fingers brush some of the hair away from your face, and a soft, almost depressing coo leaves his chest. You looked so much like them.. 

He pulls his hand away. No, you were different. You weren’t the kid he fell in love with all those years ago. They were dead, long gone, lost to time. 

He sighs, running a calloused hand down his face. “Fuck…” he murmurs, glancing back over at you. 

Your hair frames your face so nicely, with the way it has settled. Your body, now somewhat exposed… despite the bruises he could now see, was flawless in his eyes. Every little mark had a story, he could assume. He found himself studying your sleeping form as if you were a work of art. 

In some ways, he supposed you were. 

The moment your eyes open, he almost reaches for your hand- but refrains himself. You didn’t like being touched. Being unconscious and needing to go to the hospital, that’s one thing. Unless you ok’d it or it was an emergency, he wouldn’t touch you. 

“Kei.. go…?” Your words, after literally passing out on his bathroom floor- well, no it makes sense that it’s his name. You probably didn’t want to wake up in some random white room with a stranger. 

“Hey, hey.. ‘m right here,” he gives you a soft smile, hand next to yours- just close enough that, if you wanted, you could take it. Your bleary eyes meet his, and after a few moments pass, they widen with panic. 

They dart around, taking everything in and- there’s fear written all over your face. In your eyes, your scent- his wings twitch a bit, which catches your attention. He trills in distress, body begging to soothe you, but he can’t. He can’t touch you. 

“Dove, hey, please, look at me, yeah?” He coos, and when your eyes shift to his, he smiles a little. “There she is… you’re ok, pretty girl. You passed out, and your heart rate felt funny, so I wanted to just get it looked at.” 

Your eyes trail to the blood, the saline, and antibiotics. When your brows furrow, he takes a deep breath. Then, the hardest words he’s had to say in a long time push past his lips. 

“They… the doctors said you had a miscarriage. I’m… I’m so sorry, [Name]...”

His words carve into your chest, squeezing your heart until it’s about to burst. “I… what..?” Your words are barely even there. It hurts to talk, hurts to breathe, and the room feels just a little too small suddenly. 

Miscarraige. 

You’d been pregnant. 

You’d been pregnant with the kid of the man- no, the monster- that held you in an iron grip for over 3 years. 

Your chest is caving in on itself, and you claw at it. Sitting up, you can faintly register the feeling of tubes against your skin. 

He killed his own child, inside of you. You hadn’t even known you’d been pregnant- your eyes widen. 

You can faintly remember bits and pieces of that night. Your chest tightens impossibly more, and you can’t breathe. Your lungs aren’t working right, and the room is spinning. 

You were pregnant. 

He assaulted you, and you got pregnant because of it. 

When a hand comes to wave in front of your face, you slap it, shooting back into bed. “Don’t- d-don’t fucking touch me-” you snarl, eyes darting around the room. You needed out. You had to get out. 

You had to breathe. 

The faint noise of machines beeping and people subsequently flooding into the room only made you panic more. You couldn’t even cry, or mourn the loss of something you could’ve had. 

Did you even want it?

That thought disgusted you. It wasn’t an it, it- it was a person, it.. You slowly come down from your heightened state, looking down at your stomach. You tentatively place a hand on it. 

You… lost the child, because you’d pissed him off. 

It’s your fault. 

“[Name]?” Keigo’s soft voice breaks through your thoughts. Your eyes slowly trail up to meet his. When you speak, there’s something missing from your voice. You can hear it, even though you can’t place what it is. 

“I… this is my fault, I pissed him off, and..” You murmur, and he immediately shakes his head, trilling and clicking sounds coming from him. The medical staff, seemingly placated by your now calm state, began to filter out. One of them shows Keigo where the nurses button is, in case you need something.

“No, no it isn’t- you didn’t ask to be pregnant, and- you sure as hell didn’t ask to lose the kid…” There’s a gentleness to his voice you hadn’t quite registered before. Your head slowly felt less like there was cotton stuffed inside of it, and instead like a jackhammer was splitting it apart. 

You’ve been in the hospital before- specifically this one. But why? For what?

“I.. I’ve been here before-” You whisper, brows twitching together. His head cocks to the side. 

“It’s… a well known hospital,” He tries, but you shake your head. 

“No, I- I had procedures done. I can’t remember what they were, but-” You’re cut off with a coughing fit. Your throat hurts like hell, but- you need to get your thoughts out. 

“Fuck- I can’t- why can’t I just-” You murmur, frustration leaking into your tone. 

“[Name], hold on a sec- you just passed out, you’re sick as shit, and literally had a miscarriage- I’d be concerned if there wasn’t something weird going on in your head.” He teases a little, though genuine concern is audible in his tone. 

“Take a deep breath. Talk to me.” 

You pause, taking in his suggestion. After a deep breath, you felt… a little better. You purse your lips, and speak again. 

“... my mom brought me here when I was little to get something done. I can’t remember much around that time, other than that…” You murmur. His head tilts. 

“I’m sure we could ask for your chart, look at your history?” He offers, and you nod. 

“Y-yeah, that’s… that’s a good idea..” You can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. But… while your mother wasn’t great, it’s not like she’d hurt you, right..? 

Right…?

[animemensblog]

Just a lil teaser, seeing if it's worth it to type out the full thing <3

Hawks x reader x Dabi ~ smut and angst

"That's an ugly color on you," Hawks kicks your foot to get your attention "isn't it?" He turns to Dabi, who's standing on the other side of you. "Yeah pretty gross" they laugh, you could feel their harsh gaze scanning your outfit and body.

This is getting old you think, at least they could be original and stop reusing insults. They'd be more interesting.

"You should just.. take it off" Dabi pokes at your side before trying to yank your shirt, but Hawks puts his hand to Dabi's chest. "What?" He asks him, making you look up at Hawks who has moved closer to you, just barely touching your shoulder.

His fiery friend gives me a weird look and Hawks hesitates, why would he stop someone else from bothering you? "I-I, um" his eyes find yours, he almost melts when he sees your big eyes staring up at him. "I just don't wanna know what she looks like under there" he jokes and pushes you away from him.

With that, the two leave you standing alone while laughing. Your mind is racing; he was so close, you could feel his heat radiate off of him and his cologne fill your nose. Oh when your eyes met- you almost died. That was until he made a jab at your body, which he's never done. You always thought your figure was nothing to laugh at, let alone be insecure of.

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

You were relaxing in your work's lobby while on break when a familiar voice called out to you, "Y/n?" Aizawa says plainly.

"Oh hey Shouta!" Hawks and Dabi see you reply with pure joy with a smile reaching ear to ear.

They both watch as the dark figure sits next to you, almost too close. Dabi looks over and sees his friend staring at you. His feathers were slightly standing up, his eyes widen and wouldn't look away or blink- kind of like if he were you'd disappear.

"Whats your deal?" Dabi asks

"W-what?" He says as he rapidly looks back between him and you.

"You're always talking or looking at her when you're in the same room" he quietly says, then chuckles.

Hawks cheeks turn red and his wings tense, "psh, I'm not obsessed with her or anything" he partially yells, causing it to echo to you and Aizawa. Immediately your attention goes to the loud bird that's literally squawking. "She's hideous and practically useless. I'm just bored, need good entertainment" he shakily pats Dabi on the back, trying to reassure him.

His flustered face turns back to you only to see how your head is hanging low and Aizawa is mumbling something to you. You shake your head and walk away. Hawks doesn't know why but he doesn't wait to ditch Dabi and run past Aizawa, chasing after you.

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

You make it to your apartment and as you close the door, a small knock comes from the sliding glass door on your balcony. Fortunately, it's locked so you get to watch Hawks try to yell through the window, weakly trying to pry open the door. You huff and walk to your room.

Then another tap, this time on your bedroom window. You could see his big, red wings flapping behind him as he waves at you. You storm over to him only to crack the window enough for his fingers to slip through.

He takes it as an invite, then you shut the window on his fingers.

"Motherfucker!" You hear him yell on the other side, when you look back he's cradling his hand.

You decide to leave him outside and take your much needed shower. Hawks, being determined as always, pries open the window and plops down on your living room couch, waiting for you to come back.

When you leave the bathroom, you wander around in your towel searching for your hair dryer you left in the living room.

As you make your way out you miss the wings peering over the couch, along with the person attached to them. You notice the dryer on the table and walk over, when you get in eyesight of him his heart does stop. He watches as water drips down your leg and how your towel can't cover your entire ass.

His wings flutter and his body goes tense. One of his wings flinch and quietly hits the couch, though it was loud enough for you to notice. "What the fuck?!" You yell as you run back to the bathroom. It takes a minute for him to come back to earth but when he does, he tries to explain himself.

"Wait, I- let me explain. I'm not some weirdo or anything" he yells trying to figure out which door you ran into. He tries the closet, the bedroom, your office, your plant room, he swears there's more doors than there should be.

"You sure because you definitely broke into my house" you mumble into your hands, this can't be happening.

"I mean, you left the window cracked. I thought it was an invite. Anyways I'm just here to apologize, that's all." He says quietly. He waits a minute before you walk out in a hoodie and sweats, even cute little socks. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you refuse to walk in front of him as you head back to the living room.

"You'll apologize then you'll leave, fucking perv." You spit at him, and his face goes red. He kinda likes this not-so-nice side of you, especially when you give nicknames like that.

"Well, you know earlier when you overheard me and Dabi?" You scoff. "Yeah, um, I'm sorry."

"That's it?"

"I mean yeah."

"Apology not accepted, now get out" you say pushing him towards the front door. "Wait you said I could apologize!"

"You did, and you're not forgiven. Now GET OUT you idiot."

He sighs and leans back, "say that again." You ignore his odd request and keep pushing, then he speaks up again. "Please?"

"Gladly, you're a fuckn idiot." He stops moving and turns around.

"I like that" he says nervously

"Congrats, please get out" you say weakly, his stare never fails to make you feel small.

"But I don't want to"

"Then I'll leave" you spit before walking around him and grabbing your keys and wallet.

"I don't want that either" he reaches for your wrist and pulls, "can you say it again?"

"No, stop being weird."

He smiles as he watches his thumb rub your hand, "it's not weird I like the names"

"Names?" You mumble, then you connect the dots "Oh."

He watches your face contort, "you fucking pervert!! You only came here for that?? Ugh." He stops you from leaving before you could try, pulling you to his chest. His nose almost touches yours and his hand snakes around your waist.

"Maybe I am a perv" he chuckles. You couldn't respond; being this close to him, even though he's trespassing and annoying you, makes you unbelievably nervous. "Instead of apologizing, can I try another way to make it up to you?"

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

Hawks gasps for air as he pulls away from your center, one of his hands gripping your thigh and the other holding your hips. "You taste amazing" he whispers before going back in, your hands pull on his hair and he slightly whimpers. "You're so pathetic" you say then he groans, sending vibrations into you.

He sees your fingers playing with your nipple and decides to experiment with his feathers. He sends one to where your hand is, it gently brushes against your skin and makes you gasp.

His tongue starts to slow down before pulling away, "can I?" He gestures to his pants, earning a weak nod from you. He takes off his belt and slips down his pants, revealing his thick cock that's throbbing hard. He leans forward and places a kiss to your chest, then one on your neck, and hesitates before kissing your lips.

His feather speeds up as your kiss gets deeper, letting him swallow any moan and whimper you let out. Hawks backs up and starts to line himself up with you, he adjusts your legs to fit his waist perfectly.

His tip brushes between your wet lips, "Keigo, fuck me." He nods, then he gets interrupted by the doorbell. Hawks groans loudly and leans forward, "who's that?"

You shrug and jump off the couch, slipping your pants on and made your way to the door, Hawks following you. The door swings open to reveal Dabi holding a few flowers with shaky hands.

"Hey" he softly says

"Hi Touya" you mumble, his first name? Hawks thinks to himself. So he pulls the door open wide enough to show Dabi he's here too. He didn't put any effort to hide his boner, or your juices still on his chin.

He chuckles, "I came here to apologize" he nudges the flowers into your hand before pushing inside.

Hawks speaks up, "sure, make yourself at home"

"Says you" both you and Dabi speak up, you spin around and make a face at him before heading to sit over by him. Your thigh brushes against Dabi and he doesn't wait to grip at it.

"You guys aren't together are you?" Hawks says, letting his head hang low.

"No" you laugh, "its kind of a system. For you, I guess" you look over at Dabi, trying to get him to explain.

"What she means is when you piss her off and she's crying herself to sleep, I come over and help her forget. Nothing more, nothing less". Dabi teases, "she still likes you regardless!" This earns him a harsh punch to his shoulder.

Hawks perks up at his comment, "then it won't be a big deal when I steal her from you". He sits next to you, putting his arm behind you.

"Not stealing when I'm willing to stop, after tonight of course" Dabi says while a nasty smirk appears.

They both look down at you like they're starving, then you realize exactly what they mean.

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

I honestly don't know what to think of this, but if you want me to finish the whole thing lmk :)