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animeaandp · 11 months ago

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[Continuing to empty my drafts]

MHA Prompt

Part One

Shigaraki x Reader

---

You met Shigaraki as a child and tried to help him, the only person to before AFO disappeared with him. You never found out what happened to him until later while helping your classmates retrieve Bakago from the league.

Your job was to help launch the others into the air but then you recognize one of the villains. Todoroki and Momo don’t notice that you’re not following them to get away afterwards. Instead you walk towards Tomura, calling his name in a scared yet hopeful voice. Tomura feels like he’s seeing a ghost. Hearing your voice after all these years, his arms instinctively welcome your crashing embrace, being careful not to fully touch you with his hands.

You’re too relieved to see each other that you forget where you are for a moment too long. AFO starts to warp the league away but first asks Tomura if he wanted to take you (he too greeted you warmly). Tomura swears that he’ll never lose you again and lets out a sigh of relief as you’re both being consumed by the portal. You couldn’t believe that the sweet and scruffy little boy you’d found had turned into the man in front of you.

It was news that you knew Shigaraki and immediately everyone is scrambling to piece the puzzle together. Allmight’s furious for failing to rescue yet another student but based off of the interaction, Principle Nezu and the police don’t believe that Shigaraki will hurt you, not without being provoked; he clearly cares about you. So you should be okay for now.

Back at the villain base, you’re still trying to wrap your head around the small scruffy kid you'd found under a bridge causing all of this chaos. It’s hard to see him as a villain now that you’ve heard his voice again, sounding almost exactly the same. He looked the same as well, only now he looked down at you; he’s grown so much. Tomura would be far more upset about losing AFO if it weren’t for you being here and Dabi wonders if you’re actually a new problem, watching how different Tomura is behaving; like nothing else mattered anymore. His fingers traced through your hair as he continued to breath it all in..you were really here.. While introducing you to the rest of the league, Tomura thinks back to the only fond memory of his childhood.

After destroying his family, and a few days of wandering in search of help, a hero, anything, Tomura settled under a bridge to rest. He was terrified and confused, feeling utterly lost when some little girl came running. She was a mess but smiled as if she was as rich as could be and offered her hand to him. He pulled back, saying how she'd die if he touched her with his hands. So instead she sits beside him and introduces herself; y/n y/l/n. You watched him walking down the street and figured he was homeless like you were. He couldn't put what had happened into any certain words yet, but, yes he was. "Not anymore! Let's go!"

You dragged him to his feet and made him follow you back to your 'home'. It was a small group of homeless people who lived together on the outskirts of town. They'd all been thrown away by society like the trash they lived in, but this place was a home just as good as any other. You lived here with your older brother but everyone else was your 'bonus' family. "We all look after each other, so I'll look after you from now on, and you'll look after me too! Okay?"

"...okay.."

Tomura was only with you for a couple weeks. He had too many unanswered questions and unresolved emotions to not go with All for One. His feet did falter though, suddenly resisting walking away from you. Maybe he should say goodbye first? Leave a note or something?? You had shared everything you had with him, even if it wasn't much, it was his. He wanted to give you the same and more though so he walked away, making a child's promise to come back and give you a better life. That promise lived in his heart for a few years but AFO's overwhelming influence and 'teachings' pushed it deep down where Tomura wouldn't remember it until today when you'd come running to him again.

It was pretty bare bones but Tomura gives you the bedroom in the back to stay in for the night. He shuts the door behind him before crossing the room, interrupting your train of thought with a finger tracing your cheek. Your eyes swimming with emotion was everything Tomura thought it would be. "Y-You're touching me..." "Yes, finally." It seemed you remembered how the nights were cold and you'd forced Tomura to accept your blanket. You bundled him up in it so there wasn't a way for him to accidently touch you while he slept, then pulled on your sweater and wrapped yourself around him like a koala. Body heat was all you had some nights so you wished Tomura sweet dreams before drifting off. His wish was to be able to hold you back one day. At night sleeping, while running around, playing, or that one time you tripped and scraped your knee; Tomura wished more than anything that he could've comforted you just once. Finally it was his chance. He pulls you back into his arms and holds you, properly, with his entire being. Your hands wrapping around him as well, a forgotten feeling that never grew old.

You fell asleep at some point and wake up to Tomura tucking you under the blankets, but again to a cold breeze brushing over you. He had you in his arms and tells you to go back to sleep. Only half awake to begin with, you fall back asleep immediately. The next time you wake up you're in a new place and don't see or hear anyone. The bedroom is much nicer than before and a change of clothes are waiting for you at the foot of the bed. You change then poke your head out the door. Still no one.

There was only one of two options, so you choose right and start walking down the hallway. At the crossroads you go right again, hearing voices coming from that direction. None of them belong to Tomura but some are familiar enough that you decide to knock on the door. Hopefully they wouldn't attack you, and hopefully you wouldn't attack them. Just your luck though Dabi opens the door and you sock him in the jaw with everything you have. You didn't use your quirk, it'd be foolish to actually try and start something with the league right now, but damn did you still put your back into it. You shake off the pain while Dabi regains his balance, checking that his jaw was still in tact. "Why you little-" "That was for Aizawa." "Huh?" "At the training camp, when you all attacked. You hurt my teacher. Now we're even pretty boy."

"Even?" "Who'd he attack??" "'Pretty boy'-HIM?!" At least the others saw the humor in this bc Dabi's cremated people for just existing and if it wasn't for Shigaraki's strict order not to harm you, he'd be melting your bones. Instead he scorns the rest of the league for getting a laugh off of him. And what choice does he have but to let you in and wait with them for Shigaraki to get back from his meeting with Overall.

"Who?"

"That's none of your business."

"...Are you mad that I punched you..?"

"AFO save this girl...and the hell is so funny now?"

"She is. We like her" Mr. Compress and Toga giggled.

"You wouldn't if you'd gotten punched."

"Maybe, but still."

"Can I?"

"...Can you what?"

"Can I punch you as well. You're the one who kidnapped Bakago, you hurt Ochako, you were fighting the Pussycats, and you-!..well, I don't remember you; I won't hit you then." They league all look at each other trying to figure out if you were serious. You looked it but didn't sound angry or upset at all. Mr. Compress asks why that is, "Shouldn't you be trying to arrest all of us for being villains, little hero.?" You scoff as if he'd insulted you by calling you that. "I don't know most of you so I don't know why you're here, but I know that that doesn't instantly mean you're bad people. I'm sure you all have your reasons and it's possible that they're valid, maybe even right, who knows. My issue with you right now is that you've hurt people I care about. I won't ignore or forgive anyone who does that. So I want to punch you all and call it even. That's what fair looks like to me."

"..." "..." "..." "..."

'The hell is that sound?' Shigaraki opens the door expecting to break up a fight, not to see his member's cheering you on as you lined up your fist with Twice's jaw before winding up to hit him with everything you had. His literal split reaction has Toga rolling on the floor laughing with her own swollen cheek, and Spinner patting you on the back for your "good shot!" It looks like even Dabi's smiling but the wheels are turning in his head over something you said: "I don't know most of you" were you referring to knowing Shigaraki, or, was there someone else here that you knew...He'd be keeping a closer eye on you now. However, he did have to admit that as far as heroes go you weren't a shitty one. He's never heard someone talk about villains in such a non-black and white way before. You saw them as people first and for most of the people in this room, that's all they wanted.

"Do I dare ask."

Everyone finally notices Shigaraki standing in the doorway and in tandem look between you, Shigaraki, each other, back to you and Shigaraki, then to each other again with devilish eyes that screamed "YES!!!?!" A few minutes later you try to rub soothing circles over Tomura's cheek but he slaps your hand away, still grumbling about what he did to deserve getting clobbered as well. You laugh and are happy that he welcomes your touch this time. "For leaving without saying goodbye." "I was only gone for half an hour-..oh, right...alright fair enough."

There were obvious topics that needed to be discussed, but first he wanted to pretend none of that mattered and play catch up. He explains how and why he left, and in summary what's happened since. You remember being terrified to hear that some man had taken Tomura; it usually never ended well when something like that happened to people like you. You'd tried finding out more about Tomura's whereabouts for a while but the police catch you trying to steal food one day. Then the next you're placed into an orphanage.

You tried running away one night but your brother found you and to your amazement wasn't there to rescue you. He wanted you to stay where there was food and shelter. You were heartbroken to watch him disappear into the night, leaving you behind. It took you a long time to get over. The truth that you found out many years later when revisiting your old community was that your brother had become sick. Really sick. As hard as he worked to take care of you, he knew what was going to happen soon. This way, he could leave you with the best possible chance to make it in the world. Get adopted by good people, live a good life, one where he could leave knowing you'd be okay. You never saw your brother again. Like he wanted, you were adopted shortly after by a very nice couple who did give you a good life. They were the ones who encouraged you to apply for UA's heroes course and were probably sitting at home right now, worried sick about you... "Sorry," you wipe your face "I know how you feel about this stuff." Another hand helps you finish drying your cheek, "I know how I feel about you too; it's okay."

Tomura was happy to hear that despite choosing to become a hero, you were still the same person at heart. Mr. Compress reiterated what you had said that they all willingly allowed you to punch them. It sounded just like you and a part of him felt proud that his group approved. He wished that more people could be like you, someone who truly could agree to disagree with others, including himself. Maybe if he had chosen to stay with you, things would be different; he would be different. Thoughts like that were a secret place most villains let their minds wonder to when they were alone; all of the 'what if's' that could have happened if the 'if only's' had happened. Sometimes they were fond thoughts, sometimes not. But for him you always were, and if Tomura could go back in time then maybe-...maybe.

Shigaraki couldn't let you leave yet though or tell you anything that could be used against them once you were released. Hearing that created some tension between you two, but that night you open the bedroom door to the nervous ball of scruff asking if you'd let him lay with you. "I never got to hold you" "Maybe if you hadn't left..." "..." "Sorry. Come on." He hesitates until you manage a small smile and reach for his arm "it's okay. I promise." Tomura closes the door behind him and follows you to the bed. He laughs a bit, "You sleep in all of your clothes still?"

"Some habits never die. Besides, it makes me think of you."

"Really??" You nod laying down beside him "but look at us now. Clothes on our backs AND plenty of blanket to share. Guess we both made it out" Tomura greedily pulls you into his chest, wishing now that he didn't have to keep on these damn half gloves. You nuzzle in closer and wished him the same sweet dreams you did as kids. You fall asleep first and Tomura makes another wish; to keep his promise, and never let you go again.

You're kept with the league for a at least another week, it's hard to tell exactly since you're not allowed access to any technology let alone to leave. Tomura is willing to share that you're in an underground labyrinth, curtesy of a potential ally, but that's about it. Hopefully you'd be able to leave once Tomura finished up his business here, but he didn't feel the same way. Thanks to your 'agree to disagree' and 'only harm those who harm you' mentality, the league enjoys your company despite your career prospects. Even though the next time you meet would most likely be on the battlefield, that didn't mean it had to be personal. For now you eat, drink, joke and play games together.

The only hold out is Dabi. He's kept an eye on you like he said he would but nothing's stuck. As long as you weren't staying it shouldn't matter but Shigaraki has been dragging his feet to move forward with the leagues plans a bit too much. Dabi thinks that it's bc of you and your 'there's no need for needless violence' mentality rubbing off on everyone.

Shigaraki's meeting with Overall should last a little longer, giving Dabi enough time to interrogate you. He doesn't bother knocking and lets himself into your room, saying it was time to talk. Were you secretly working for the heroes this entire time? Was this all apart of some well thought out plan to infiltrate the league? Maybe you were trying to create a wedge; take them down from the inside type of thing. What was the purpose of playing nice with them? Did you hope to gain their trust, pretending to be some type of double agent then betray them later down the road? (Another hero coming to mind). No way a hero could be so 'lets hold hands' with villains; he needed to know how much of it was an act.

Dabi never gave you a break with his line of questioning, but while you found it confusing at first, now it's sort of funny "and kind of sad." He scoffs down at you, "How's that." "Well...i'm sorry you haven't met many good people, you know?" That reminds him, "What you said before; who else do you know here." "Hmm?" "You said you didn't know most of us here. Who. Do. You. Know-"

"You."

"..."

"...You didn't know that?"

"What type of bullshit-"

"Oh, you really didn't know."

Dabi's presence completely shifts and he's not playing anymore. His fingertips begin to dance with flames. He steps closer, "How." You stand up, unafraid of his thoughts threatening to take over "I mean, I do have eyes you know. So" you reach out the graze the side of Dabi's face "it's obvious you have your mother's eyes, just like Shota-AH!!?" Your wrists are on fire, almost literally, as Dabi pins you back down on the bed and growls at you to tell him the truth right now before he grills you alive "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!!!?!" "I KNOW YOUR FATHER!" "SO WHAT?!!" "I KNOW WHAT HE DID!"

"..."

"...I-...I know what he did to you. All of you."

"H-"

"Shota. He told me. Your other siblings as well."

"..."

"I know all about your family drama; what a grade A human dumpster of a father and husband Endeavor is...the moment I saw you I knew exactly where I'd seen those eyes before." Dabi lets you slip your hand away from his hold, or more like he froze. Again you reach to touch the face of the poor boy above you right now,

"I'm sorry life has been so cruel to you....Toya"

"That's not my name."

"Okay"

You both might have stayed in this moment forever if it wasn't for Shigaraki knocking and asking what the meaning of this was. He'd never thought of it before but seeing a man on top of you in bed woke something fierce and jealous inside Tomura. Dabi needed to leave. Now. His read of the situation couldn't be farther from the truth but Dabi pushes himself away and swiftly leaves-"Wait!" "...?" "I-...No one else knows, about...you know." "..." Dabi leaves.

"Did I miss something." You clear your face and give Tomura a reassuring hug, "No, I think you already know about it." Tomura tempts you with his touch and soft smile that's made you so weak, "what if I didn't?" but you're not budging on this one. "I couldn't tell you then." "Keeping a secret from me y/n?" His forehead rests against yours as you promise "I'd never dream of such a thing." You felt so close to Tomura right now. The way he didn't say anything else and just looked at you, letting his smile slowly slide off his face into something else...

"Tomura," "Hmm.."

"I feel....."

"So do I."

"You're..close"

"Because I have a secret of my own to tell you"

"Tomura-" "Shhh, I'm going to share it with you...pay close attention, y/n." His lips press greedily against yours, starved and threatening you to try and stop him. His arms cage you to him, tongue finding a rhythm with your own, and steps pushing you back to the bed until you can only fall back onto it. It's your only chance to call him off while Tomura goes to lock the door, because once he walked back over, you weren't getting another one. Throwing his shirt across the room "Let me know if at any point I need to repeat myself" Tomura removed every cursed thing that got in between you two that night. He'd rather chop his fingers off than keep these gloves on, the only barrier between your bodies, but the leather proved to have some 'redeeming qualities' so maybe they weren't that bad.

A lifetime of thoughts and emotions needed to be shared with you in this, so Tomura follows every instinct and urge that his body has. He's never done this before; he has no idea if you have, but the sounds you were making were so damn good. "m-more..." keeps rolling off his tongue. And who would you be if not yourself, to not give Tomura everything you had and then some.

Hours pass until you're getting a break and it doesn't last long. In between gasps of air, Tomura shares another secret; he wants you to stay. He knows that you can't, but still he asks and begs. He begs you as his body begins coming back to life, to stay and wait to leave him "Just a little longer.!" not to end this dream before he's ready to wake up. Overwhelmed and breathless, you're not ready for it to end either and promise everything he wants. You keep each other close and climb the final submit with one last burst of energy. Tomura cries and drools into your neck fighting to will his body to milk every last drop of this night with you. He's memorized every cry, moan, whimper, and gasp you've made all night. Every touch, arch, drag, and shake from your body. And the feel of your lips against his. It's gotten sloppy, teeth clashing, and breathless but still perfect. You were his now. Whether you grew to hate or resent him for it, to regret this night somewhere down the line. It didn't matter. You'd already fallen asleep but Tomura still promises to look after you. He pulls his lips over your skin one last time before passing out.

It’s what he dreamed about for so long; waking up with you in his arms-HIS arms! You fit so perfectly, he hated to ruin it, but the train was ready to leave the station again so he’d greet you with a proper “good morning” afterwards. Besides, he’d rather hear you panting at him to slow down then begging that he speed up, instead of saying two lousy words. Yeah, you sounded so much prettier like this “my pretty little thing-so fucking cute!” This was so much better!! FUCK he wanted to start every day like this-how did people not?! Shigaraki is just as consumed with your body as he was last night. A hell of a way to wake up, being constricted by his affection until you’re passing back out from exhaustion, only to be woken up yet again by Shigaraki starting over. He should stop but couldn't even truly consider it. Besides you’re his now, he’ll shower you in affection whenever he damn well pleased, and you were gonna be grateful. He owed you so much for the kindness you showed him surely you wouldn’t reject his thanks in return? No, you’d never be so ungrateful. So in that case, he better keep going. ‘Anything to make you happy.’

Over the next few days, every chance Shigaraki got to rip your clothes off he took, and nights were marathons. He couldn’t get enough. And it’s not like he was oblivious to the dilemma it created for you, but it just meant he needed to do more to convince you. The league would be leaving Overhaul’s compound to make their next move soon and he wanted you to go with them. You didn’t have to become a villain, Shigaraki just wanted you by his side is all. You could scold and scorn him for what he was doing the entire time if you wanted. He’d offer his jaw to your fist everyday if that made you happy. Just, this time when he left, he wanted you to go with him.

In the few moments of peace Tomura would give you now a days, you thought long and hard about what the hell you were doing. Of course you couldn’t go with the league, but, could you rejoin the heroes either? If they found out what you’ve been doing this entire time, could they arrest you? Kick you out of the hero course-…would they, force you to tell them everything you knew about Tomura..

“You look like you’re thinking hard about something. Better not be about where you and scaly are gonna fuck next.”

“Ugh. I’ve TOLD you already, it was an accident!”

“Who accidentally has sex on a table full of food right before we’re all supposed to eat.”

“Oh…I thought you were referring to the hallway incident.”

“Or the bathroom.?”

“No that one wasn’t an accident. Spinner should've knocked. The couch was an accident though-“ “No it wasn’t you two just got caught.”

“Well it was dark! You were all glued to the tv, I was being mostly still, just..”

“Scaly skin was being louder than the damn tv. Even on max volume all we could hear is how ‘fucking great it is to be balls deep in’-“ “OKAY OKAY!!? Jeez..”

“Don’t act all shy now princess. You’re quit the exhibitionist, it’s impressive.”

“DON’T say it like that..(!?)” you really didn’t mind if anyone saw or even watched you having sex with Tomura; Dabi was right you were into that sort of thing, but only in the moment. You didn’t want to discuss it later over coffee in the morning like it was normal. You try changing the subject, “So how much longer will I be here? It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

“That’s up to you, so I hear. Every time that scaly-“ “Stop calling him that.”

“Fine. Whenever that lovesick puppy of yours is getting close all he does is beg you not-“ “WHY are you LISTENING?!!”

“Too loud not to. You must be one hell of a lay for him to always moan like a-“ “Like a what Dabi.”

“..Speak of the devil…”

Tomura walked in looking very unamused by the conversation topic. He acknowledges your greeting, sitting and slinging his arm over your shoulder. “I can’t tell if you’re a fan of my work or just jealous.” Dabi scoffs, “More like brainwashed from it; all I hear day and night is you going to pound town on the poor princess.”

“‘Poor princess’?”

“Having to look up at that crusty face of yours every night? It’s a wonder she can get off at all.”

You feel the smirk on Tomura's lips and tense up. "Actually" ‘Don’t…’ he swipes your hair off your shoulder ‘don’t you dare say it’ and smiles against your neck, licking the same spot he’s been abusing for days 'Tomura don't you-' “She’s looking down at me most nights.” You try hiding your face but Tomura grips your jaw and forces you to look at Dabi, who’s shocked and amused by this turn of events. “Tell him y/n. You climb on top of your 'lovesick puppy' every night, and refuse to climb off without me getting a little rough with you.” His other hand tickles up your thigh “Go ahead. Tell him. Aren't I right?” Why was he doing this?! Even if other people have been ‘around’ sometimes you’ve yet to do anything like this. Tomura is so possessive you’d never think he’d be inching his fingers up your top right now, making sure that Dabi could see. And he could, and he was. Intently.

“..I-I” “Don’t be shy y/n. I know you’re enjoying this, but it doesn’t seem Dabi believes me. Go ahead and tell him how much you are.” "I-…Tomura-" “LOOK. at him.” You raise your eyes at Dabi who’s been waiting very patiently “ha, this I gotta hear” The asshole was thoroughly enjoying this. Your cheeks are flushed and your lips stutter trying to get the words out “I-I like…that you’re watching.” “Say his name”

“Da-..“

That smirk on his face. An actual smile didn’t suit him. So he watches your face twist into something else, a devious smirk of your own, and the game changes. "Toy-" “DON’T. YOU. FUCKING. DARE.” Now it’s your time to smile, leaning back into Tomura's touch in a show of victory. You don’t feel shy whatsoever anymore about his hand fondling you so openly as Dabi’s eyes were shooting daggers at you and drifting nowhere else right now.

Tomura can’t wait any longer; he drags you over onto his lap and starts moving things out of the way. It feels like your victory lap, so you let your eyes flutter shut and enjoy being dragged down onto him. You wish you could put on more of a show now, and do this every time you saw that smug face on Dabi. Because right now it was furious but there was nothing he could do except watch and listen to you and Tomura go at each other right in front of him. It’s not until you stop trying to hold back your moans that Dabi starts to shift in his chair “You’re a real little villain now aren’t you.” “Not at-hm!?-all. I just can’t s-stand(!) your ass.” Dabi scoffs sarcastically before standing up and snatching you by the throat. Tomura growls at him to "watch it." but stays focused on what he's doing. A little bit of panic starts to surface; you remember the last time Dabi grabbed you, but you can’t back down now so you hold the eye contact. Even as he leans in only an inch from your face, you try not to shelter the pants and moans you’ve been showcasing this entire time. The only reason you start to struggle is because Dabi’s hand tightens before he leans in close enough for your nose to rub against his with every slight bounce. “you’re lucky it’s not my lap you’re sitting on right now princess, or I’d ne teaching that little ass of yours a lesson; you'd forget how to walk.” “?!” “Now open” His fingers pry your mouth open to take the glob of spit he drooled off his tongue. "Swallow it." He throws your face away from him once he’s satisfied, and tells Shigaraki to shut the damn princess up quickly as he strolls out of the room.

‘What the hell was that about..’

“Finally” your clothes are decayed away and Tomura throws you down to all fours and double times his pace. “Don’t worry sweetheart, we can put on as many shows as we want for Dabi in the future. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Want him to watch the two of us like this?” He always did this, just like Dabi said. Whenever Tomura was getting close to finishing he never would until you agreed to stay with him. But this time was different because “Yes…yes(!) I want him to wwwatch us-AahhH!?” “You dirty little slut” Tomura slaps your ass, “maybe I should hand you over to him; see how much you like him then-“ “No! I don’t-I don’t want to fuck him(!) Tomura please-“ “Oh you don’t want that?” “No he'll be mean!” “Who do you want fucking you then y/n.” “You! I want you Tomura I only want you.” “Are you telling the truth y/n.” “Yes.” “You wouldn’t lie to me would you.” “No never-!” “Then you’re only going to bend over like this for me from now on. Got it.” “Yes!” He growls pushing painfully down on your back, “Always so good for me aren’t you-?!“ everyone was used to hearing your and Tomura’s escapades by now, but that morning would be the first time they'd hear Dabi’s name echoing down the halls. It’d also be the first time in ages that Dabi’s stayed in the shower longer than necessary. He was all smiles afterwards trying to catch his breath 'that fucking bitch has to go...'

The rest of the day passed by like normal, and the next day began as usual as well. A nice morning hump to get the blood flowing before the league had to go do something. Tomura doesn’t say what except that he’ll be back in a couple hours. He told you yesterday that they’d be leaving any day now, and if you really weren’t going to change your mind then so be it. “Now that I know where to find you, I can always steal you away whenever I'd like.” “That sounds nice.” One more kiss and he leaves.

A few hours later you think you hear the league getting back but the footsteps are too fast. Then there’s obvious sounds of fighting and a struggle happening. You leave your room and don’t believe it: there’s heroes and villains fighting in every direction. You don’t see the league members anywhere; these villains were all new to you so when you notice one sneaking up on a hero from behind you jump in to save him. Who were these guys? And what were all these heroes doing here? You wanted to be flattered but no way this was all to just rescue you.

The hero thanks you for the assist before stopping to stare at you for a moment, “…Are you y/n by chance?”

"Yeah I am. What’s-" "Eraser we got her! Y/n’s alive-!"

Eraser; Aizawa came for you…? Your chest ached. That’s right. You missed Aizawa. You missed your friends, your family.

You couldn’t stay here-

*grab* “I WON'T LOSE YOU AGAIN” "Tomura-!?" "Y/n PLEASE. Come with me. I’m…I'm not ready yet"

"Y/N!!?" Aizawa’s voice makes you jump. He’s getting close, and, if he found Tomura...

"I…I have to go now..”

“N-No” “We’ll see each other again.” "I’m not ready" "It’ll be okay-" "No stay with me-!" "Y/N!!" Aizawa doesn’t care what he’s interrupting; his capture scarf wraps around you and he pulls with all his might. Shigaraki only had you by the wrist and your hand slips from his. The portal begins closing and Tomura’s face has the most broken expression before disappearing into it. He was gone again.

That evening you’re back in your dorm room as if nothing happened. The police believed you to be in a state of shock and wait until morning to question you (and questions they did have). In the meantime you’re left alone to rest and readjust to being back. Your room had started collecting a bit of dust, making you realize just how long you’ve actually been gone. Also, that this didn't feel like home anymore.

Aizawa isn't sure what advice to give you in the morning. You looked like you hadn't gotten an once of sleep as you shuffle past him. The commission couldn't dig up anything concrete to connect you with Tomura. It infuriated them and took Aizawa, Principle Nezu, and Hawks personally vouching that you weren't some double agent/secret villain for them to not label you a person of interest. Your teachers had many closed door meetings themselves trying to figure out the connection but there wasn't anything that they could piece together themselves.

He didn't want you to go through what you were about to walk into, but; Aizawa grabs you by the hand and gives a light squeeze "I'm here for you. We'll do this together, okay?" You never said anything back, but you fall into Aizawa's chest, silently admitting your true mental state. All night you thought about what you were going to do and say when meeting with the commission, but you still had no clue. You didn't plan to lie, but how honest could you be? You didn't agree with what the league was doing, but you didn't want to see them meet miserable fates either. But, if you don't tell the commission everything they wanted to know then a lot of innocent people might be hurt. There's absolutely no way you'd give anything away that alluded to your intimate relationship with Tomura, nothing good would come from that. You'd need to tiptoe carefully and not make it obvious that you were withholding information. If they found out you were lying, and about what...

Aizawa went with you to the meeting and promised to wait right outside the door the entire time. He gives you an unexpected hug "Do what's best for you y/n. I'll still be here." then shoo's you inside. The room was huge but nothing more daunting than the panel of people hidden in the shadows. A single chair placed in the center of the room told you what was expected.

"Y/n Y/l/n."

"...Yes."

"Let's begin."

At least two hours passed. Aizawa could occasionally hear muffled voices raise slightly here and there, but nothing to give away how it was going other than how long it was taking. The commission was clearly interrogating you and Aizawa worried about how well you were handling it. He didn't agree what what the league was doing either, but it was no big secret that the people on the other side of the door were corrupted. So there's no doubt in his mind that they weren't playing fair and applying pressure with intent to break you.

It's another half hour before the door opens and Aizawa jumps to his feet. The doors didn't slam open, nor did your hands shake trying to push them. Your footsteps were strong walking away, so much so that Aizawa nearly misses it. He catches a glimpse of the look in your eyes.

Pure and utter torment.

"Y/n. Y/n..!" He starts chasing after you, trailing behind as you hurried your steps, each faster than the other. You force your way through the crowds of people walking the streets until you turn down an alleyway. Aizawa's still calling your name and begging you to stop. The chase doesn't last much longer though. As soon as the alley lets out to an abandoned lot, he's throw to the ground.

As if holding your breath this entire time, you collapsed to the ground and cried out without dignity and released an explosion of your quirk's energy. Aizawa isn't able to get back to his feet, only shield himself enough to watch as you cried out helplessly to no one. It was heart wrenching. And from afar in an unmarked, unknown location, being held captive and too far away to ever feel it, a should be hopeless AFO pulls a sly smile over his face.

Aizawa could have erased your quirk but instead holds out long enough for your lungs run dry, and the chaos subsides on it's own. All that's left is you folded over on the ground, clinging to yourself and silently sobbing into the dirt. Your body wouldn't stop shaking even after Aizawa carefully sat beside you and pulled you into his arms. The surge of emotion that went into that outburst was impossible to miss. Aizawa could see it; he can feel your heart breaking. And it was killing you.

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ao3feed-dadzawa · 3 months ago

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#AO3 Feed Link #FanFiction #AO3 Dadzawa #♥#Erasermic #Izuku Midoriya #Snipe #R:G #A:KingOfTheOranges #Dadzawa #Dad Mic #Fluff

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milkiemooboo · 10 months ago

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One of us...!

One of us...!!!!

#aizawa #aizawa shota #aizawa shouta #aizawa shōta #mha aizawa #yamada hizashi #aizawa fluff #nomu aizawa #present mic #mha #mha deku #mha snipe #mha eraserhead #bakugou mha #endeavor mha #mha spoilers #mha fanart

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aheckinmess · 1 year ago

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Hanging Fire in the Pond [Snipe] (Fluff)

(One-Shot 6/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Snipe x OC, Pro Hero Snipe x OC, Choku Dan, Original Female Character, Snipe is a Gentleman Cowboy, OC is Just Trying to Relax in the Pond, But Snipe's Horse is Eating Her Clothes

Word Count: 1,591 words

Summary: Ichijiku takes a trip to a pond for a swim and a relaxing bath. When a stranger comes by with the same idea, how will she leave with her dignity in tact?

Author's Note: As far as I know, Snipe's real name hasn't been revealed. So for the time being I've given him a name that means "straight shooter" to reference his quirk, at least until he's given a real name canonically in the series. Hope you enjoy!

CONTENT WARNING: Nudity

Ichijiku (Tigress)

Cold, rushing water caresses my skin after a hot day in the sun. The calm, lapping waves wrap around my naked skin like silk as I wipe away the dust and grime from a busy day.

Birds and frogs serenade me from nearby trees and lily pads spinning around me in the pond. The sound of hooves trotting in the distance provides a soothing cadence to steady my wandering thoughts. I take a deep breath and duck under the water, allowing an overflow of serenity to encapsulate every inch of me.

For those few moments, my mind and body hover in a blank plane of existence where I'm untouchable from the hardships of life, until I eventually must resurface for air.

Rubbing the water off my face, I open my eyes to a stranger five feet away from me at the pond's edge. A stranger who's unable to see me as he pulls his shirt off over his head.

My heart jumps in my throat as I glide behind a large mossy rock to peek out from. I've never seen such a man before. He's so handsome. He tosses his shirt aside and then works at the buckle of his trousers. With a soft gasp, I hide with my back against the rock until I hear him step in the water.

A frog disturbs the surface tension and I stay still for a few more moments to make sure my position isn't given away before I peek around slowly again. His bare chest stretches above the surface. Chiseled muscles flex as he moves deeper into the water. Tan skin gleams with rolling droplets in the sunlight as he rubs a wet cloth over his taut skin. He closes his eyes and leans his head back, giving me a better view of his blue dreads.

I should let him know I'm here. I think, but my mouth hangs open when I try to speak. I can only hide behind my rock and ogle him. No, I shouldn't be doing this. My conscience pipes up, making me shake my head and sneak to the other side of the rock towards my clothes on shore. As I move closer, I notice some of them missing.

On the bank, a black horse rubs her nose in my shirt and then pulls my socks and undergarments closer to her along the ground. Internally, I panic, but I try to keep a calm exterior as I duck my head to reach for the clothes when I hear a deep voice.

"Kuroashi! What are you nosing into?"

Just as I reach for my shirt, the man reaches for his horse and we're suddenly a breath away from each other. I glance at the dip of his hips and his eyes droop to the valley of my chest before either of us process what's happening.

"O-Oh!" He falls back into the water with a splash before I see anything, but I'm frozen in horror for a moment before I cover my chest and tuck in the water with a squeal.

His horse remains unbothered and continues rummaging through my clothes.

"I'm sorry, ma'am! I didn't realize anyone else was here." He quickly apologizes.

"I-I should be sorry," I squeak out, submerging every part of my body up to my chin underwater. "I saw you but didn't say anything. I had hoped to make a quiet escape."

"Well, I'm mighty glad I got to see your pretty face before you did." He chuckles.

"I can't say I wasn't fond of the view myself." I smile shyly. My neck gets hot and I pull my soaking hair to the front, shading my burnt cheeks.

An awkward silence stretches between us as we peek at each other. Fantasies of swimming over to touch him skirt the edges of my mind, but I force myself to be good when the sound of munching reminds me of why we met.

"Your horse is eating my undergarments." I giggle as my bra dangles from its snout.

"Gah! She's–Ashi!" He exclaims, hopping out of the pond with everything God gave him exposed to the elements. "Give that here, you nosy thing!" He laughs when she nickers, moving back and forth to make him work for it.

I grin when he finally snatches the bra from his mischievous mare and coaxes her to walk with him so he can toss it into my pile of clothes without letting me see him naked.

"Sorry about that," He rubs the back of his neck, before patting his mare fondly. "Kuroashi can be such a busybody sometimes, but at least she ain't crowbait."

"Crowbait?" I ask as I extend my hand to her and wait to see if she'll sniff me. When she bends her head, I stroke the fur on her cheek.

"Crowbait's just another way of saying she ain't a good quality horse."

"Oh, well I agree. She isn't crowbait. She's lovely." I coo.

"She's a good girl." He gives her a good pat on her shoulder. "Just doesn't know when to keep her nose out of the dirt and mind her own business."

"Does she take after her owner?" I tease.

"I've been known to get involved in another's business a time or two." He smirks. "But only on the odd occasion."

I look down with a grin as I comb my fingers through my soaking hair. My eyes cut over to him a few times. What I wouldn't give to touch him at least once.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Choku. Choku Dan." His goofy smile reveals a set of pearly white teeth. "And what about you?" "Ichijiku." I take a few steps toward the shore until I expose my shoulders again.

"Oh! Right. Well, Ichijiku, let me help you out." Choku moves back around the edge of the pond to his clothes before grabbing a large, red cloak. "Here, darlin', use this to cover yourself."

He holds it open for me and I gather my clothes as I step out of the water and on land. Wrapping me up in his cloak, the cool wind isn't so bad, especially when he's trapping me in his warmth being so close. He buttons the clasps and I find myself mesmerized by the look on his face.

"What were you doin' out here anyway, sweetheart?" His brown eyes sparkle under the setting sun. "It ain't often I happen upon someone as beautiful as you in this pond. It's not exactly easy to get to."

"I often come to the woods for an adventure. Sometimes I need to go for a swim; though, skinny dipping today was a first." I chuckle nervously.

"I'm sure not complaining." His gaze shifts to my lips for half a second before his cheeks tinge pink and he looks back at me. "I-I mean, unless that makes you uncomfortable, ma'am."

"I'm more uncomfortable that you keep looking at me like that without kissing me."

I don't know where my boldness comes from but I can't say I regret it when he dips his head and closes the distance. Warm, soft lips dance with mine and I melt against him, his thin cloak the only thing separating us. It ends far too quickly, but that's probably good considering how fast my head spins when he pulls back.

"Sure didn't expect to do that when I came out here today." He presses his forehead to mine and we're close enough I hear the beat of his heart.

"I didn't either. I doubt there's anything more surprising to top it." I admit.

"Really now? What if I told you this pond is on private property and you're under arrest?" He slips his hands under the cloak to snag my wrists playfully.

I might be worried except he's smiling far too big for him to mean it.

"I'd say, 'Well, I can scratch that off my bucket list.'" I giggle.

"Who puts getting arrested on their bucket list?!" His laughter bounces off the trees as he shakes his head in amusement.

"The same lady who just kissed you wearing nothing but your cloak."

That seems to flip a switch in his head as he lets out another yelp and goes to grab his clothes and shuffle into them.

"Shit, that's right! I meant to offer you a ride back to wherever you needed to go. I'm sorry. I've been hanging fire this whole time!"

"Hanging fire?" I ask. I think I like learning about his cowboy slang.

"Delaying or getting held up." He explains as his pants zip and he throws on his shirt. "Come on, honey, Ashi and I will have you home lickety split."

"Oh, thank you. I don't mean to inconvenience you. I can walk if–"

"Nonsense. It's no trouble at all, ma'am. Let me help you up." He lifts me up as I keep his cloak secured, then he stuffs my clothes in his saddle bags.

By the time he reaches my house, the crickets sing to us as the remaining daylight wanes. He helps me off Kuroashi and I take my clothes gratefully.

"Wait here and I'll change so I can give you your cloak back." I say as I fish my keys from my jean pocket.

"Don't worry about it, ma'am. I've got more at home, I promise."

"Oh...are you sure? It's yours. It doesn't feel right to take it."

"I'm sure, darlin'. I imagine it'll give me a reason to come back." He winks.

Want More Snipe? Try: Bullet in a Gun

#mha fanfiction #mha one shots #bnha #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #bnha one shots #fluff #snipe #prohero snipe #snipe x oc #choku dan #Original Female Character #Snipe is a Gentleman Cowboy #OC is Just Trying to Relax in the Pond #But Snipe's Horse Keeps Eating Her Clothes

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ao3feed-izuku-midoriya · 3 months ago

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#AO3 Feed Link #FanFiction #AO3 Izuku #♦#Izuku Midoriya #Snipe #Erasermic·#R:G #A:KingOfTheOranges #Dadzawa #Dad Mic #Fluff

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ladysunamireads · 3 months ago

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#AO3 Feed Link #FanFiction #AO3 Izuku #♠#Izuku Midoriya #Snipe #Erasermic #BNHA #🐰#R:G #Dadzawa #Dad Mic #Fluff #A:KingOfTheOranges

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kuwkedits · 4 months ago

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Snipe x ynie for Anonie

Tags: Fluff 🧸

Hope you like it anon 😭

#rins reqs🧾#snipe x gender neutral reader #snipe x reader #mha snipe #bnha snipe #mha #bnha #mha texts #bnha texts #bnha x gender neutral reader #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #snipe x yn #fluff 🧸#🧸

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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months ago

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Hi! I would love an imagine for the boys that includes the reader getting held captive and they rescue her, maybe a little Angst to Fluff?

Love your work btw ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Only a little angst? Friend, I may have gone and made this more angsty with just a sprinkle of fluff. I can't help myself sometimes. So, fair warning to y'all, that it is angst-ridden with a bit of fluff at the end of each. Sorry?

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): angst, canon-typical violence, swearing, reunions, light fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John’s heart is thunderous, beating so loudly it’s like a bass drum in his ears.

To be successful, to execute this rescue with precision, he needs to remain calm, to be the leader he knows he is. It’s not a lack of confidence, but a growing dread that he might be too late. There is no room to show fear—to let everyone in on how important this is.

Because it is important.

You are important.

Not just to the team but to him. Maybe the team knows. Laswell likely does, but the boys might not. Sure, they have suspicions, but you and John have always been discreet, have always tried to keep the relationship between the two of you private.

Now, with the mission ahead, all those secrets and subversion might overflow. Become known to everyone.

John breathes in through his nostrils, and exhales through his mouth. Box breathing. It’s helping. But only a little.

“We’re ready, Captain,” says Gaz, crouching beside him, gaze scanning the land before them.

There’s open ground and then a building. Someone stands guard near the door, head on a swivel. Soap silently appears next to Kyle, taking a knee. Simon is somewhere in the dark, ready to snipe every enemy in sight before they enter the building.

Price nods, and then speaks into the walkie. “You’re clear, Ghost.”

“Copy.”

Seconds later, the man guarding the door jerks like he’s been electrified before crumpling silently to the ground. A few more moments and a body plummets from the top of the building, landing with a sickening crunch.

“No signs of life,” comes Simon’s voice over the comms.

Soap snorts. “Cheeky bastard.”

John wants to join in, but you’re consuming his every thought. It’s only been twenty-four hours since you were taken, yet it feels like an eternity.

“Let’s move,” murmurs John.

They advance in unison with Simon emerging from the dark to bring up the rear. Entering the building is easy, but they’ll have to go slowly and silently inside. Up close and personal is the way to go in a place like this. One wrong move might spook the rest.

Kyle and Soap take the front, breaking necks and slicing throats. It’s clean. Efficient.

John signals with his hand and everyone shifts down a different hall, heading toward the internal bunker. That is where they’re holding you, along with other hostages.

A few more quick deaths and then John is kicking in the door.

There are screams. Shouts. Rapid gunfire.

John is already searching, seeking your face.

“Targets are down, sir,” shouts Soap.

There are cages. Rows of them. He searches each one, looking at every face.

“Contact base and tell them we need civilian pickup,” says John.

“On it,” answers Kyle, already leaning his head to the side to speak into his radio.

John searches. And searches.

“John.” Your voice cracks but it’s soothing. Soft.

He murmurs your name, going down on one knee, reaching through the bars to grasp your hand.

“I’m here,” he murmurs.

“I knew you’d come,” you reply, smiling. “I knew.”

With his back turned to the rest of his team, John silently mouths three little words. “I love you.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is on the mission, but he isn’t. Not really.

He’s watching it all on monitors at a safe distance. Others are taking the lead. Others are executing the mission. And Johnny must step aside because while he is physically capable, he’s too emotionally invested.

Too explosive. Too irate. Too volatile.

But this is about you. Of course he’s going to be angry.

Yet here he is pacing, gaze glued on the screens, listening to the chatter. Every muscle is primed for movement, ready for action, but Johnny cannot expel the energy. It’s building—shifting into anxiety.

“What’s taking so bloody long?” he growls.

Laswell glances over her shoulder at him. Though she appears calm, Johnny notices a small flicker of sympathy.

“They’re returning,” she replies. “Waiting on e-t-a.”

Johnny’s pacing worsens.

“You’re going to wear a path in the concrete,” says Laswell.

Johnny opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of helicopter blades reaches his ears. It’s not loud, just a hint of sound, but as it increases, his heartrate spikes.

Laswell doesn’t have to say anything. Johnny is already moving, rushing out to the landing pad, watching as the helicopter approaches and descends. The seconds pass in small eternities. Nikolai is in the pilot’s seat, and it is Captain Price who opens the sliding door just as the helicopter lands. Johnny is rushing forward, almost throwing himself inside in his search for you.

“Johnny.” It’s Simon, his large hand coming down on Johnny’s shoulder.

Johnny wants to tell him to move, to get the hell out of his way, but it is your voice that Johnny hears. As the helicopter blades slow, the air calms, and it is easier to understand—to recognize your familiar tone that Johnny has missed for all these days.

There’s a blanket around your shoulders and a sunken quality to your features that speaks to malnutrition. Other than that, you appear fine. Unharmed.

Johnny, no longer impeded by Simon’s hand, moves toward you, coming down on one knee. You immediately reach for him, and Johnny takes your hand. You’re cold, and it pains him. Placing both of your hands between his, he brings them to his lips, brushing kisses along the knuckles, attempting to warm them with his own heat.

You bend forward, and as Johnny glances up, you rest your forehead against his.

The fight is over. You’re here.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

There is a hunger in Simon.

Like the snake, he will consume his prey headfirst.

It is eerie how calm he is—how focused. A mission is a mission is a mission—until it isn’t. Until there is no target, no capture or kill, no sense of duty. This is all primal rage boiled down into a thick, viscus consistency. It is invisible, smeared over Simon’s eyes, drenches the world around him into a grey haze.

Simon could be the rapid dog let loose from a broken chain. Poisoned saliva. Bared teeth. Prone to biting.

The knife in his hand is bright and hot and burning. It itches for blood, for Simon to take these fuckers down a peg. He has it in him, but all Simon needs from his superior officer is the affirmative. And then, like the ghost he is, they won’t ever see him coming.

Come on, Price. Call it.

A part of him is missing—shredded. He did his best to protect you, to keep you secret from the world. Cruelty and deception move quickly though, and now your life is in danger.

Give the fucking word.

“Path is clear,” comes Captain Price’s voice over the radio.

It’s all the affirmation Simon needs. He is up and moving in seconds, a wraith in the dark, a silent shadow out for blood. His blade is his guide, sheering and cutting, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. There are no shouts, no cries of pain. Simon is clean, brutal, efficient.

But there is only one thing—one person on his mind. And that’s you.

A set of stairs. A hall. Rooms. More stairs.

Ascending. Ascending. Ascending.

The rest of the team isn’t far behind, but they stay back and leave Simon to it. They know this mission is for him. That he’s not only doing it for you but for himself.

It’s a wonder his knife doesn’t grow dull. It cuts true. Cuts clean. And it isn’t until the last enemy has fallen that some of the tension in Simon’s muscles melts away. He has consumed his prey, and there is only a singular door left to open.

There is the moment before he opens it, a space of breath that feels like eternity packed into single moment. The hinges creak, revealing a tiny room no larger than a walk-in closet. And there you are, on your side, ankle chained to the wall.

“Simon?”

You sound so broken. So…hollow.

As he sinks down onto one knee beside you, the unsteady confusion on your face gives way to hope. Simon’s arms reach out instinctively, wanting nothing more than to be around you. You throw yourself into him, and there is nothing sweeter in this moment.

“I’m here,” he whispers. “I’m here.”

Your sobs of joy nearly break him, nearly fracture Simon into pieces. But the fact that you’re alive, that you appear unharmed—at least physically—is more than he expected.

“I’m here,” he repeats, even as your tears stain his balaclava. “I’m here.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It is impossible to measure the love you have for someone until they’re taken from you.

Kyle thought he understood. Yet for these last few weeks, he’s been a fractured creature. A small illusion. A flicker of a man.

But you’re not gone, just far away. Alive, he hopes.

Alive, is what he repeats. A mantra in his head. If he says it enough, it will be true.

Price, Soap, and Ghost are in front of him, moving like shadows through the building while Kyle brings up the rear. With them beside him, there is calmness in the chaos, a softening to his chaotic emotions. They are his support, the ground that he can stand on.

Price motions, and then Ghost kicks in a door.

There are shouts first. Then gunfire. Then silence.

Each of them enters, walking amongst the corpses.

Price digs around in the pockets of one of the men, and then tosses a set of keys over to Ghost. Kyle is already following, moving into position as Ghost unlocks a nearby door. He points the firing end of his gun inside, and then steps back.

He glances at Kyle, and nods.

Lowering his weapon, Kyle pushes the door wide, the light bleeding into the dark, revealing a shape he knows well.

Kyle’s surroundings melt away, leaving only you. He cradles your cheeks, thumbs rubbing away the dirt and blood and tears. You’re smiling, but there is red there, too.

“I knew you’d come for me.”

“Always,” he whispers, voice cracking in pain.

Captain Price appears at his shoulder, glancing down at the two of you on the floor, face grim. He speaks into his radio. “I need a med evac now.”

“You’re going to live,” reassures Kyle. “I promise.”

“Please don’t leave,” you murmur, fresh tears pooling in your eyes.

Kyle shakes his head. “Never. I’ll never leave again.”

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whirlybirbs · 11 months ago

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— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired.

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on.

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable.

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission.

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you.

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight.

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud?

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain.

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger.

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep.

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up."

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much.

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open.

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being.

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak.

"I'm fine."

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow.

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku.

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him.

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush.

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other.

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen.

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate.

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo.

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem.

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness.

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone.

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon.

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y.

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more.

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned.

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night.

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around.

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way.

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop.

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones.

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway.

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest.

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah.

Right.

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself.

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice.

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp.

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled.

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth.

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm.

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months.

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit."

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others.

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his.

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that?

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure.

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm.

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing.

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady."

Maybe you could drown yourself here.

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu.

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look.

You offer a sheepish grin.

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira.

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare.

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness.

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku reader insert #kny kyojuro #kny x reader #kny imagine #demon slayer imagine #literally don't look at me this has been my break up obsession

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wvyik · 3 months ago

Text

signed, sealed, seduced. d.w. ⋆˚࿔

dean winchester x fem! reader

ᰔ summary: she’s high-maintenance, deadly, and doesn’t take shit from anyone; especially not from dean. but when their worlds collide, the hunt becomes personal… and a whole lot more complicated.

⤿ warnings: mdni!! explicit content, (i couldn’t help myself) tons of sexual tension, mild explicit content, cursing, dirty jokes, fluff + filth combo, (because why settle for one?), some light violence, a sprinkle of possessiveness, lots of playful banter, reader is so bela talbot coded, frenemies to lovers.

⤿ notes: thank you anon for the request!! im happy to oblige, such an awesome idea btw >ᴗ< think mr. & mrs. smith meets supernatural with just a pinch of unholy sexual frustration.

The first time you ever met Dean Winchester, he tried to shoot you.

In his defense, you had just scammed a warlock out of a cursed amulet that he’d been trying to track for three weeks. In your defense? He was being a little bitch about it.

“You stole it,” he’d growled, all puffed chest and righteous fury.

You’d just smiled, blood-red lipstick flawless, one perfectly arched brow lifting. “I acquired it. Stole is such a blue-collar word.”

He hated you instantly.

They say hate is just the other side of passion. Dean’s starting to believe it. Every time you roll your eyes, every time you sass him, every time you bend over in that tight little pencil skirt that definitely wasn’t accidental— he gets closer to just snapping and pinning you to a wall.

And you know it.

You flirt like it’s war. Batting your lashes just to watch him sweat. Dropping dirty little one-liners that leave him choking on air.

“So serious, Dean. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying not to get hard.”

He whips his head toward you. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh relax,” you hum, leaning your head back against the seat. “I’m not gonna jump you. You’re not my type.”

He scoffs. “Good.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “I like men who at least pretend they don’t want me. It’s more fun when they break.”

You’re a ghost in the hunter world. No last name. No phone number. Just rumors and red lipstick. You’ve sold hex bags to demons and then double-crossed them for hunters. You flirted your way through vampire nests and stole angel blades from under Heaven’s nose. Nobody knows whose side you’re really on.

That’s your whole thing.

Dean hates that it turns him on.

The job takes you to Louisiana. Swamps, heat, and the kind of cursed object no sane hunter touches without gloves, prayers, and a last will and testament.

It’s an old Creole relic. An amulet that traps souls in a loop of violent death. You’ve seen it before. Once. You didn’t walk away clean.

Dean doesn’t ask about it.

You don’t offer.

Instead, you two ride down in the Impala, sniping at each other the whole way. He complains about your luggage (“We’re not staying at the goddamn Ritz!”) and you call his music “sad divorced dad anthems.”

But underneath the sarcasm, something’s shifting. You catch him looking at you longer. Laughing under his breath at your jokes. And when you fall asleep in the car, head resting against the window, he doesn’t say anything. Just glances at you, once, and turns the music down.

The house is cursed, because of course it is. Two people already dead, one missing, and a sulfur trail leading straight to the basement.

You go in first. Dean protests, obviously.

“You’re not bulletproof, you know.”

You glance over your shoulder, smirking. “Neither are you. But I look better while risking my life.”

He doesn’t argue.

Not out loud, anyway.

Inside, the air is heavy. Thick with bad energy. The kind that sticks to your skin. Dean’s right behind you, flashlight sweeping, gun drawn. You’re holding a small dagger you stole got from a Haitian priest once. Dean always makes fun of it— until it saves both your lives.

Which it does.

Twice.

“You okay?” he breathes after the second time, chest heaving.

You glance at your bleeding shoulder and shrug. “Ruined another blouse. Guess you’ll have to buy me a new one.”

He glares at you, then rips part of his flannel and presses it to the wound. “Stop joking.”

You blink. His hands are warm. His voice is serious. “You could’ve died,” he mutters.

You smile, softer now. “So could you.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours. And for once, there’s no banter. No sarcasm.

Just that look.

That goddamn look.

The one you’ve seen flicker in motel rooms and over diner coffee, in the lull between hunts. The one he always hides before it can mean anything.

This time, he doesn’t hide it.

He brushes your hair back, careful of the blood. And you let him.

You defeat the cursed object together; barely. It shatters in a flash of flame and screams, and when it’s over, you’re both on the floor, breathless, singed, bleeding.

You laugh.

Dean groans.

“You’re the worst,” he says.

“I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but stops. Because he’s realizing you might be right.

Next thing you know, the air in the motel room is heavy. You’ve both cleaned up—sort of. You’re in a silk robe now, blood rinsed from your skin but not from your memory. Dean’s wearing an old band tee with a rip near the collar and sweatpants, barefoot, jaw still clenched. He hasn’t looked at you since the kiss.

You don’t know if that’s a good sign.

You sit across from him at the little table between the beds, picking at your nail polish, pretending you’re not waiting for him to say something. Anything.

“You could’ve died today,” he finally mutters.

“You already said that.”

He looks up, eyes sharp. “You didn’t react the first time either.”

You shrug. “I didn’t feel like getting all misty-eyed about it while covered in ghost goo.”

Dean leans forward, elbows on the table, and you swear— his gaze softens. Just for a second.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Your stomach flips. Violently.

And now you’re just… staring at him. He’s not looking away. He’s not covering it with sarcasm or barking an insult or making some gruff joke about how everyone dies in this line of work, sweetheart. He’s just sitting there, looking at you like losing you would gut him.

You don’t do emotions. Not like this. Not in daylight. So you smirk, instead. “God, you’re being so clingy.”

Dean chuckles under his breath, but it’s not amused. It’s devastated.

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t do that thing where you pretend this doesn’t matter.”

You open your mouth to toss something clever back, but nothing comes. Because it does matter. And you both know it.

So instead, you get up.

Walk over.

Slide into his lap like it’s nothing.

But it’s everything.

His hands automatically grip your hips. His breath catches.

And you whisper, “I don’t want to lose you either.”

It’s the softest he’s ever seen you. And he looks at you like he’s memorizing it — like this might be the only time he gets to see you with your guard down.

Then he presses his forehead to yours. You sit there for a long time, just breathing each other in. Not kissing. Not speaking. Just holding.

The line between friends and lovers? It’s already blurred. Hell, it’s obliterated.

You slide your hand up the back of his neck. His breath hitches. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I’m not gonna run anymore,” you whisper. “So stop looking at me like I’m gonna disappear.”

Dean exhales shakily.

And then he kisses you.

Hard.

Like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat. His hands grip your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. You sink into him like he’s home.

It’s not neat. It’s not soft.

It’s messy.

Years of denial crash in one second— teeth, tongues, groans swallowed into skin. You push him back further against the mattress and climb over him, still straddling his lap, your hands yanking at his shirt like you’ve waited lifetimes to touch him without consequence.

Dean flips you, presses you into the mattress, mouth hot on your neck.

“Should’ve done this the second I met you,” he mutters into your skin, voice wrecked.

“You were too busy pretending I annoyed you.”

“You did annoy me.” He grins against your collarbone. “Still do.”

You moan when his hands slide under your robe. “Shut up and take it off.”

Dean’s hands are on you; rough, urgent. His fingers digging into your waist, your body pressed flush against his. His breath is ragged, hot on your neck. You’re both trembling, not from the cold but from something deeper, more raw.

You gasp as his lips meet yours again, his mouth is hard against yours, like he’s trying to consume you. And you’re not exactly pulling away either.

Your hands are on his chest, pushing his shirt off, nails scraping against his skin, making him groan low and deep in his throat.

“You sure about this?” he growls, his hands sliding up your thighs, his grip firm and possessive. His lips move down your neck, kissing and biting, and you can’t stop the shiver that races through you.

“I’ve been sure since the first time I laid eyes on you, Winchester,” you breathe out, your voice shaky but bold. The words feel like they’ve been building up for months, desperate to spill out.

Dean’s hands slide lower, just shy of where you need him. “Yeah? Then why’d you keep running from me?”

You’re not sure if it’s the heat, the pressure, or the way he looks at you with that fire in his eyes, but you snap, your patience snapping like a rubber band. You rip his belt off, hands shaking but determined.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this too,” you snap, before kissing him hard again, all teeth and tongue, pushing your body against his, aligning the two of you in one swift motion.

Dean’s breath hitches in his throat, a low growl escaping his lips as he finally lets you have control. His hands are on your hips, guiding you, the pressure between your legs sending an electrifying jolt through your entire body.

The world outside the room disappears. There’s nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the slick slide of skin on skin, and the rhythm you’re both setting— raw, frantic, desperate.

His voice breaks as he pulls you closer, his lips pressing against your ear. “God, you feel so good, baby. So fucking good.”

You don’t hold back. The tension, the need, it’s been bubbling beneath the surface, and now, it’s exploding. You move against him, your body finding its rhythm with his, chasing that overwhelming heat, that burn that has nothing to do with the hunt, with monsters. It’s just the two of you now, tangled in sheets, no masks, no pretenses.

Dean groans as you shift, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Should’ve had you like this from the start.”

You smile, teeth grazing his jawline as you pull back just enough to look him in the eye, your breath uneven. “Took you long enough to catch up.”

“You feel so good,” he mutters between kisses. “Damn, you feel better than I imagined.” His voice is low, strained, the heat in his tone like fire. “Always knew this was gonna happen… didn’t realize it’d be this fucking good.”

Your movements become faster, rougher, and Dean matches you, his hands gripping your hips harder as he takes control of the rhythm. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, the soft, breathy moans you both can’t hold back, fill the room. And you can feel his eyes on you, burning with an intensity that sends a wild thrill straight through your core.

His name is a whisper on your lips as you both fall into it. That final, explosive moment when you can’t tell where you begin and he ends. It’s pure, intense, all-consuming.

And when you both finally collapse into the bed, gasping for air, sweaty and wrecked, there’s no question.

You’re not just two people sharing a night anymore.

You’re tangled up in something deeper.

Something that’s not going to fade in the morning.

After, you’re tangled in the sheets, your head on his chest, his hand lazily tracing patterns across your bare back.

“You’re mine now, huh?” he murmurs, voice all husky and smug and soft.

You hum. “I was starting to think you’d never ask...”

Dean kisses the top of your head. “We’re really doing this?”

You look up at him. “Yeah. We are.”

Dean’s face breaks into a grin, clearly amused, but his eyes flicker with that intense, familiar heat. “You sure you’re ready for all this, sweetheart?” He motions to himself dramatically. “I’m a lot.”

You pause, staring at him, before letting out a mock gasp. “Oh no. Does that mean I’m gonna have to be the one saving you next time?”

Dean laughs, the sound rich and full of life. “Baby, the only thing you’ll be saving is my dignity— if there’s any left after last night.. And maybe if you get lucky a few monsters along the way.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” You give him a wink, running your fingers through his hair. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you out of trouble, huh?”

Dean leans in, catching your lips in a kiss that’s lighter than before but still packed with that unmistakable Dean Winchester intensity. “You’re my trouble now, sweetheart.”

And for the first time, it feels like everything’s exactly as it should be.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @brutuuallove @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @littlesoulshine @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @twelveyearsofit @tinas111 @riteofpassage77 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡

#༊*·˚ wvyik #sofia writes ✎#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #jensen ackles x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #dean x y/n #dean x reader

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helaintoloki · 4 months ago

Text

Good Luck, Babe

pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader, Yelena Belova x reader (past relationship)

warnings: suggestive content, fluff, lots of angst, yelena is extremely mean (justifiably)

notes: yes this was inspired by the chappell roan song. yes i love angst. and yes my requests are open

summary: you are happily married to Bucky, but that doesn’t stop the past from coming back to haunt you

The bedroom is drowned in moonlight as the open curtains blow gently from the cool breeze. Goosebumps form along the span of your arms, but you’re not sure if it’s a result of the chill or the feel of Yelena’s fingers gently raking up and down your bare back. She is strangely quiet, but her pensiveness is not out of character considering it’s the night before a mission.

You were sent with her to assassinate a known whistleblower hiding in the outskirts of Italy, and by tomorrow morning they will be arriving to the same hotel you are currently spending the night in. Yelena will finish the job while you watch positioned from a nearby rooftop ready to snipe him through the window in the event things go wrong. You know they won’t for Yelena has never been known to be sloppy, but you’d been adamant about your role as the sniper. She is unwise to the fact that this will be your last night together, for when tomorrow comes you will finally make your escape and free yourself from the clutches of the Red Room.

“Do you think they have breakfast in bed here?” She prompts with a sleepy smile, arms pulling you closer against her bare chest so that you can feel her heart beat against you.

“As if we could afford such a luxury,” you remind her playfully. “They will not waste such resources on us. We aren’t on a vacation.”

“I know, I know, but it would be nice,” she argues before leaning down to steal a kiss from you. “Besides, there are a lot of things we are not allowed to have, and yet I have you.”

Her tender gaze only twists the knife in your heart and fills you with suffocating guilt. You desperately wish you could take her with you, beg her to runaway into the sunset together, but it’s too risky. Very few Widows have ever managed to escape, and those who have were only able to do so alone. Despite how much Yelena loved you, her loyalty was to Dreykov, and she would do everything in her power to stop you from running if she knew what you had planned. Even if she could find it within herself to put you over the Black Widows, you would only be putting her in danger. You are willing to risk dying for your freedom, but you are not willing to risk her life in the process.

“So sentimental,” you coo teasingly before rolling yourself on top of her. “You’ve gone soft, Yelena.”

“I have not,” she rebuffs defensively before immediately rolling over so that it is now you who is pinned underneath her. “Are you forgetting who’s in charge here?”

“How could I?” You say flirtatiously, laughing when she retaliates by attacking your neck with her lips in the spot she knows is extra sensitive to touch. Your joy echoes through the silent hotel room, and for a moment you can simply forget that this will be the last time you can share such intimacy with her.

You wonder if she’ll ever be able to forgive you.

The feel of your husband’s lips against the spot on your neck he knows is extra sensitive to touch slowly rouses you awake from your dream. You’re not sure what time it is, but you can guess that you’ve probably overslept. His cool metal fingers gently dig into your hip while he proceeds his ministrations, and his tired smile is the first thing you see when you finally will yourself to open your eyes.

“I thought you’d never wake up,” Bucky jokes sweetly before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Are we late?” You murmur sleepily before curling yourself into his arms. He’s especially warm this morning, and it makes it even harder for you to muster up the energy to get out of bed.

“There’s still time before the hearing, but Valentina wants us there early to go over the proposal one last time.”

“I don’t like that woman,” you mutter irately, prompting a small chuckle to escape your partner. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting us into?”

“I really hope so,” he offers with a sigh before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll get the shower running for us.”

You watch him retreat to the bathroom with a sleepy smile before stretching out your limbs and sitting up in bed. The remnants of your dream still linger in your mind, and you find yourself absently rubbing your arm while you think back to all those years ago. You loved the life you lived now, free from the Red Room and married to a wonderful man, but that didn’t stop the memories of Yelena from infiltrating your life every now and then. The fellow Widow had been your first love, your first everything really, and it was hard to forget something like that.

You never attempted to reach out to her after your escape in fear that you might compromise your new life, so you forced yourself to move on. You moved to the states and began a career teaching self-defense classes to women by day and enacting vigilante justice by night. Your extracurricular activity caught the interest of Captain America, and it was through Sam that you eventually crossed paths with Bucky.

His ability to understand the life you had lived before becoming a hero and the secrets you kept was a comfort you greatly appreciated, so it didn’t take long before you two decided to begin a romantic relationship. You were married within three years of being together, and life was simple. You adored him more than anything, so you couldn’t understand why thoughts of Yelena continued to haunt you to this day.

“Shower’s ready, doll,” Bucky calls out from the bathroom, breaking you out of your contemplative state. You sigh and kick the sheets off of your body before making your way towards your husband. Today has to go well, so you will your mind to rid itself of the memories of a woman who is no longer in your life and strip off your clothes before stepping under the warm water with your husband.

You both get a little sidetracked during your shared shower, but you’re eventually able to get yourselves ready and to the hearing on time. Valentina’s pitch is a success, and now all that is left is for you and Bucky to gather Valentina’s candidates for a new team of heroes.

“I’ve certainly got my work cut out for me,” he sighs after surveying the various files laid out on your dining room table, oblivious to your sudden quiet nature as you stare intently at one file in particular. You don’t remember it being there before, and a part of you wonders if Valentina had hid it from you until she was sure she had you onboard- but how could she know if you’d never voiced your relationship with Yelena to a single soul?

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky prompts with a gentle hand resting on the small of your back. You immediately snap out of your daze and harshly swallow the nervous spit that had been accumulating in your throat before offering him a shaky smile.

“Fine. I just…” you begin to say, but you’re at a loss for words. Your body feels like it’s buzzing with anxiety and dread at the thought of having to face your past after all these years, and you don’t know if you can handle having your ex and your husband on the same team with you.

“What is it?” Bucky coaxes gently, voice low and soothing in an attempt to ease your nerves. “You know you can tell me anything.”

His eyes follow your gaze to Yelena’s file, prompting him to tentatively slide it to the forefront so that her intense gaze is now staring right at you. You watch him silently look over the document before looking up at your sullen features. “Did you know her?”

You can only nod, not ready to voice it aloud but also not willing to lie to your husband. You don’t know why you’re so afraid to just tell him the truth, to tell him that you had once loved this woman the same way she had once loved you, but you’re not willing to face the guilt and shame that come with remembering your abandonment of your closest friend and confidant.

“I have a past,” you barely manage to get out.

“Everyone does,” he reminds you with a comforting smile, tone lacking any hint of judgement or scrutiny. “I know that better than anyone, and because of that you know I’d never hold your past against you. Tell me what you’re thinking, doll.”

“I’m thinking about how to tell you that I not only know this woman, but I also had a… romantic relationship with her,” you finally confess, allowing your eyes to land anywhere but on Bucky’s face in fear of being met with anger and disgust. Instead, you feel his fingers gently grasp onto your chin before tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Is that what you’re so afraid to tell me?” Bucky teases lightheartedly. His smile is easygoing and understanding, and it helps in alleviating some of your nerves. “I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want to tell your husband that one of his targets is your ex-girlfriend, but it’s old history now, isn’t it?”

You wish you could agree, could give him a smile and a laugh and admit there’s nothing to worry about because it’s not like you still think about her, but you know that wouldn’t be the truth. Her face still haunts your dreams, and your unresolved ending of the relationship still gnaws at your conscious. You don’t think you still love her, but the lack of closure makes it hard to let go.

“She was a big part of my life when I was a Widow,” you admit truthfully, “and as much as I try I can’t forget that. I can’t forget her. Not when I left things so horribly.”

Sighing, Bucky carefully wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his broad chest. You can feel it rumble as he lets out a reminiscent hum before kissing the top of your head.

“Trust me, I get it. I really do. Maybe seeing her again will give you the closure you need to move on from it.”

You shut your eyes and tightly wrap your arms around him before murmuring into his chest, “How are you so perfect and understanding?”

“Because I have a wife that makes me want to be the best version of myself I can be,” he replies fondly while comfortingly rubbing your back. “You do what you need to do, and I’ll support you one hundred percent. Just as long as it’s me you’re coming home to, of course.”

You let out an amused huff at his words and allow yourself to simply enjoy being in his embrace knowing it will probably the last moment of peace you’ll get before the real work starts.

After your discussion, Bucky decides that maybe it’s best if you seek Yelena out yourself while he gathers the others- if you need backup he’ll be there, but he thinks it might be better if you get the chance to speak to her alone. That’s how you end up trailing her for nearly an hour through the city before finally getting her corned in an abandoned ally.

“Yelly,” you call out, prompting the woman to halt her brisk walking and freeze in her tracks at the sound of the nickname. Though you can’t see her face just yet, you can tell by her body language that your voice has immediately put her on edge. You fear that she might run, but instead she slowly turns herself to face you and stares you down in a way that feels as if she’d just punched the air out of your stomach.

Eyes that once looked upon you fondly with love and adoration now hold malice and murderous resentment as you cautiously make your way towards her.

“I knew you were following me,” she states bluntly, tone firm and unforgiving. “I had hoped you’d be smart enough to leave me alone, but you seem insistent on tormenting me.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you offer in an attempt to lighten the tense mood, but this only agitates her further. “If you knew I was following you, then you know why I’m here.”

“Valentina,” Yelena spits venomously before crossing her arms defensively over her chest. “I have no interest working with you or your stupid husband.”

She says the word as if it’s a forbidden curse word, as if it is the most disgusting and vile insult, and to her it is. Her body nearly vibrates from the rage and hurt she feels deep in her heart, and it is taking everything within her not to throw you to the ground and unleash all her pent up aggression.

“Yelena-“

“You left me,” she reminds you bitterly, “without a goodbye or a note. You never even tried to come back for me.”

Your chest is tight with anguish at finally having to come face to face with the consequences of leaving her all those years ago. You know there isn’t anything you can say or do to make things better other than apologize, but Yelena has made it clear that she’s not interested in whatever it is you have to say.

“I couldn’t,” you insist, desperate for her to understand. “You either would have stopped me or gone with me, and if I had been caught you’d be guilty by association. They would have discovered the nature of our relationship and killed us both.”

“‘Nature of our relationship?! You can’t even admit what we were?!” She yells in disbelief, causing you to shrink down in shame as you only continue to dig a deeper hole for yourself. “You can’t even acknowledge that we loved each other?!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” You try to insist only for her to roll her eyes.

“Excuses,” she scoffs whilst throwing her hands up in frustration. Her angered face soon turns solemn, reminiscent of a kicked dog as she quietly admits, “I looked for you.”

“What?” You gape in quiet shock.

“After Natasha and I killed Dreykov, after we freed the Widows. I thought if I found you we could start over now that things were different, now that I was free. But instead I found you in the arms of another, happy and content with that… that man. We were Widows together, partners, and now you’re nothing more than a congressman’s wife.”

“Yelena…” you whisper, heart in shambles as you’re faced with the damage you’ve caused. You feel like you can’t breathe. You can’t stand to see how much hate she holds for you, though you know you absolutely deserve every ounce of it.

“I meant nothing to you, and now you mean nothing to me.”

The air is deathly silent as her words drive through your heart like a dagger, her shoulder harshly colliding with your own as she shoves past you. A tear slides down your cheek while you fight to hold back a sob, and when you hear her footsteps pause you hope that she’ll take it back, that she’ll pull you into her arms and offer you her forgiveness.

Instead, you turn to find that her footsteps have only halted because of the man blocking her path at the end of the alleyway. Your husband’s features are scrutinizing as he surveys the scene, looking from Yelena’s choleric features to your tear stained face. Your past and your present stare one another down while you can only watch.

“Balova,” he mutters curtly.

“Barnes,” she spits back.

The two simply stare one another down for what feels like ages before Bucky finally pushes past her and comes to your aid. His features soften as he gently pulls you into his embrace and shields you from the woman that looks on in resentment.

“You’re free to go,” Bucky utters sharply. “For now. You’ll be hearing from me.”

“Don’t bother.”

“It’s not a choice,” he warns, gaze turning sharp when her eyes drift back to you. She notes the way his arms protectively wrap around your frame and feels her lips quirk up into a wry smile. You are his burden now, and she couldn’t care in the slightest.

“Good luck with that,” Yelena remarks with a humorless laugh before finally making her exit so that only you and Bucky remain. He carefully pulls away to look down at your flushed features and presses a comforting kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he offers sympathetically, “I shouldn’t have put this on you. I should have handled it myself.”

You swallow softly and look towards the empty space that now remains in Yelena’s absence. You think back to your last night with the woman and remember how tenderly she had held you, how sweetly she had professed her love for you.

“No,” you say after letting out a shuddering breath. “This is all my fault.”

You never should have left her.

#mel writes #bucky barnes #yelena belova #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova imagine #mcu #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #thunderbolts

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studioeisa · 5 months ago

Text

so disconnected 📵 jeonghan x reader.

if jeonghan's 'boyfriend material' posts are on point, well— you can thank his girlfriend.

★ jeonghan x social media manager!reader. ★ word count: 2.6k ★ genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff!!!, txt's soobin is mentioned, down bad!jeonghan, jealous!jeonghan. some smau elements. not proofread; we go out swinging, baby. ★ footnotes: "kae if i wake up to a single shred of jeonghan on ur page..." ¡sorpresa, @diamonddaze01! no further notes, your honor.

🎧 now playing: disconnected by 5 seconds of summer — i admit i'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules, but i've found my sweet escape when i'm alone with you.

Click.

Jeonghan hasn’t even looked up and yet he already knows what he’ll find when he does. Sure enough, when he shifts his weight onto his other foot and glances away from the TikTok he’d been watching— there you are.

He wishes he could see your beautiful face. Alas, it’s obstructed by the sight that he’s grown used to associating with you.

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him.

“Yah.” His high-pitched bid to feign annoyance is a futile one. Everybody knows that Jeonghan could never be truly irked by you, no matter how masterfully you pushed his buttons sometimes.

After clicking away for a couple more minutes, you finally lower your phone.

There you are.

Jeonghan swears he’s not a sap, not what those people call ‘simps’. But something about your smile always makes him a little weak in the knees, makes him want to be The Best Boyfriend In The World, bar none.

He gestures for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, Jeonghan is already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in.

“Don’t do that,” you snipe as he brings you into his chest. “We’re in public!”

Jeonghan can’t hide the way his eyes roll. “I don’t care. This isn’t public. It’s the parking lot of your apartment building,” he says dryly.

“Still public.”

“Still don’t care.”

You go to shove at Jeonghan’s chest. He responds by tightening his hold on you, a sound of protest rising from the back of his throat.

“C’mon, just a minute.” He buries his face in the top of your head, breathing in the soothing scent of your shampoo. It makes something in his chest flutter. “I’ll let you go, just— give me a minute, sweetheart.”

He can sense that your acquiescence is begrudging, but he takes it nonetheless. A win is a win, he thinks smugly as he takes the opportunity to hug you a little tighter.

It’s been three months since you finally agreed to try dating Jeonghan, though you had insisted that it be kept on the down low. Something about decorum, discretion. Workplace violations? Jeonghan doesn’t really remember; he had been a little too excited at the prospect of finally being yours that he wouldn’t have minded any condition in the world.

The past weeks have unironically been some of the best in Jeonghan’s life, though there were probably some things he could do without.

“It’s my day off, you know,” he mumbles into your hair, “which means it should also be your day off.”

You giggle, and the force of it has your shoulders slightly shaking against Jeonghan’s chest.

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.

He liked making you laugh. He liked being the reason behind your smiles. And, God, did he like you.

“Let me think about it.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice, followed by a little ‘hmmm’ of faux thoughtfulness.

He’s about to bite back at you when he feels your hand at his hip, somewhat leaning into his embrace, and he instead channels his energy into holding back a dreamy sigh. You go on, “No, I don’t think so. Go pose by the wall for another picture.”

Jeonghan leans back a bit, just enough so that you can see his furrowed eyebrows as he whines, “But I’m Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

The title is a new one. Five days recent, in fact, and Jeonghan is hoping it will cut him some slack.

“Okay, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan,” you say without missing a beat. “Go pose by the wall.”

Jeonghan peels himself away from you with a grumble. He knows he’s acting a bit like an overgrown child— stomping as he walks, pouting when he leans— but he trusts that you’ll find it endearing.

You pull out your phone’s camera app. Jeonghan is ready to frown the entire way through, maybe sass you that you only told him to pose by the wall but you didn’t say how he should look.

But then, instead of “One, two, three…”, you call out something else entirely.

“I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

He can’t help it.

He laughs, and you click away.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

jeonghaniyoo_n hang up the telephone and just be here with me Liked by pledis_boos, vernonline, and 1,932,049 others View all 2,109 comments

One pro of dating your social media manager, Jeonghan would argue, is all the ‘vacations’ that the two of you can go on. You’re there for every tour stop, every concert, and Jeonghan absolutely revels in the hour or two he can steal away with you.

If only he could get you to stop working.

He knows that you’re technically on the clock more often than not. Managing an idol’s social media presence was no small feat, and your entire shtick was about making Jeonghan look as desirable as possible on SNS. You’ve been doing a terrific job so far, if his steady rise in followers was anything to go by.

Still. Jeonghan has been attempting to give you the cold shoulder for the past 15 minutes. Attempting, because you don’t even seem to notice that he’s gone quiet— too busy on your phone to pay him any heed.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. He doesn’t even have to glance at your screen; he knows you’re probably on Lightroom, fine tuning the press photos of him from earlier this morning.

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.”

“Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake.

“I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.”

You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note.

“Well, I was ignoring you before that.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.”

The beleaguered sigh you let out is not a new thing. Jeonghan has been on the receiving end of your exasperation for as long as he’s known you.

At least there’s a hint of guilt on your expression as you tuck away your phone. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Everybody’s posting follower ranking listicles since it’s the end of the year. I wanted to see where we were placing.”

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend.

He’s down so bad for you that it’s not even funny anymore.

“And?” he prods, his earlier chagrin smoothed out into something that sounds a lot more like resigned affection. “How’s it looking?”

The frustration that takes over your expression makes Jeonghan want to coo. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he manages to hold himself back.

“We still haven’t beat out Choi Soobin.” You frown like the other idol has personally wronged you by having a higher follower count. “His boyfriend material photos are too damn good.”

“His what?”

You whip out your phone. Jeonghan watches with growing incredulity as you pull up Instagram, and he’s less than pleased that user page.soobin is already one of your more recently searched accounts.

When you shove your phone underneath Jeonghan’s nose, he’s treated to the sight of Soobin’s feed. “Boyfriend material photos,” you double down, like having a visual might somehow explain things away.

Jeonghan snatches your phone from you. “I heard you the first time,” he says irritably. “But what does it mean?”

“It means that he looks like somebody’s boyfriend,” you shoot back.

Oh, Jeonghan does not like that.

He doesn’t care if it’s just a term for a type of photo. The thought of you perceiving anyone else as ‘boyfriend material’ makes a muscle in his jaw tick.

“Do you think,” he says coolly, keeping his eyes trained on your screen, “he looks like ‘boyfriend material’?”

“I mean, yeah—”

You’ve barely gotten to the end of your sentence before Jeonghan is handing you back your phone. “Where are you going?” you call out as he marches a couple of paces away.

He looks equal part determined and peeved when he turns to face you. You have your eyebrows arched upward, but he’s more focused on making sure his good side is angled towards you.

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ ZILD - Lia

jeonghaniyoo_n we put the world away Liked by xuminghao_o, min9yu_k, and 1,000,289 others View all 2,109 comments

The day you tell Jeonghan about your plans of resigning, his first thought is Well, that was good while it lasted.

His attempt at being unaffected is a shaky one. You can tell by the way he holds his paper cup just a little too tightly, the way he keeps smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his coat. His poorly concealed distress makes your expression soften, which is somehow worse.

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

And he most especially didn’t want to be broken up with in some random café in Tokyo. He has half a mind to ask why you couldn’t have waited until the two of you were back home.

Jeonghan swallows hard, like it might somehow help him swallow the panic simmering in the pit of his stomach.

“Good for you,” he finally manages to respond. “You’re overworked here, anyway.”

“That’s not the reason why I’m leaving.”

Jeonghan hates how calm you look. The two of you had watched— and judged— one too many dramas, and so he’d imagined a breakup with you would be something like that. A rain-soaked street, choice words that neither of you could take back.

Not you stirring sugar into your coffee like this is not a relationship-defining conversation.

When Jeonghan doesn’t respond, you continue. Your voice goes a touch softer, and he’s struck with the fear that you’re trying to let him down gently.

“I’m resigning because of you, Hannie.” That nickname— the one that once felt like a Daesang in its own right, when you first bestowed it on him— now makes Jeonghan’s heart feel like lead.

“Because of me,” he repeats.

His mouth is dry. His hands are clammy. He’s thirty seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay, the rest of the café’s patrons be damned.

Your next words are spoken like an unshakable truth. “Because I love you.”

You—

The look on Jeonghan’s face must be priceless; you start to laugh, and the sound of it eases some of Jeonghan’s fraying nerves.

“I love you, and I want to be with you. Properly.” Your lips purse for a moment. “Well, as properly as being with an idol will allow, anyway. At least I won’t have to worry about getting called in by HR if I’m working someplace else.”

Workplace violations. Right. That had been a thing.

All the emotions hit Jeonghan like a truck. Relief (that you’re not breaking up with him), then affection (that you’re willing to do this for him), then guilt (that you’re willing to do this for him).

He reaches across the table to place his hand on top of yours. Your eyes instinctively glance around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone is looking your way. Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do.

“I love you, too. More than you know,” he says. “But I don’t want you to throw away your career for me. Who’s to say you won’t resent me down the line because of it? I— I couldn’t live with myself, sweetheart.”

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.”

“I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.”

“Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.”

He must not look convinced, because you take things a step further. Instead of just clasping his hand in yours, you move to intertwine your fingers. There’s some comfort in the familiar feeling of your fingers in between the spaces of his.

“Nothing is being thrown away,” you repeat, your tone brooking no argument. “I will not hate you tomorrow because of this.”

Here’s the thing: Jeonghan trusts you implicitly, and not only with his SNS passwords. He trusts your no-nonsense attitude, your unshakeable feelings, your typically sound judgement.

He wants to trust you now. He wants to believe so, so badly that there is something on the other side for the two of you, and that something would be exactly what the two of you deserve.

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he considers your words. When he speaks, his voice is a lot smaller than he intends.

“What about the day after tomorrow?”

The initial confusion that flits over your expression is replaced by that grin he adores.

“I’ll still love you the day after tomorrow,” you promise.

He presses, “And the week after that?”

“The week after that, too.”

“What about the month after?”

“I’ll do you one better— the year after, too.”

You’re laughing, laughing in the way that he’s always tried to make you laugh, and it’s all Jeonghan needs to trust that things are going to be okay.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Pritam, Mohit Chauhan, Irshad Kamil - Tum Se Hi

jeonghaniyoo_n my getaway, my favorite place Liked by ho5hi_kwon, everyone_woo, and 2,000,001 others View all 2,109 comments

Click. Click. Click.

“What are you doing?”

“What,” Jeonghan huffs, “A guy can’t take photos of his girlfriend?”

You throw a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction, though your terrible aim has it soaring right over his head.

Ever since you left his company, Jeonghan has enjoyed an array of benefits that come with dating someone who is not your co-worker. The biggest of which happened to be all the time he’s now free to spend with you, most of which he’s happy to kill in his apartment.

He’s still a little bit petulant about your new job, though, and he likes to voice it out as often as he can.

“I bet Soobin has tons of photos of you,” he grumbles.

You pretend not to hear him. Jeonghan tries again.

From the foot of the bed, Jeonghan begins to crawl over your legs. Your annoyed tsk goes ignored as he takes your laptop and sets it aside, dragging you away from your social media planning for page.soobin.

“He better not fall in love with you,” Jeonghan warns.

You let out a low hiss before swatting at your boyfriend, trying to get him off of you. He doesn’t budge, instead caging you in with his arms on either side of you.

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets.

He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth.

“I’ll give you your laptop back,” he murmurs, satisfied to have had an ounce of you.

But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours.

He’d been happy with an ounce, yes, but who is he to complain when you give him the whole damn lot?

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ 5 Seconds of Summer - Disconnected

jeonghaniyoo_n Do not disturb. 📵 - YJH Liked by sound_of_coups, joshua_acoustic, and 3,392,034 others View all 30,109 comments

diamonddaze01 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ylangelegy just fell to my knees 💔 happy for you, king yourusername :-)

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reobsessed · 2 years ago

Text

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said.

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.”

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.”

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.”

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes.

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan.

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences.

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss.

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life.

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up.

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily.

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #reader x astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #my fic #bg3 fic #fanfic #vampire

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