HOW FANS FIND OUT YOURE DATING: SAKUSA VER.

HOW FANS FIND OUT YOU’RE DATING: SAKUSA VER.

gn!reader | timeskip!sakusa

sakusa wanted to marry you. he had said as much drunk and clinging to you, and while sober, falling asleep to your voice and fingers running through his hair. but he knew he’d have to wait, be careful with what could happen if word got out msby’s sakusa kiyoomi had a significant other.

but even kiyoomi couldn’t help himself from getting rings. promise rings, he emphasized to you.

he handed the carefully wrapped box to you, tense, only able to hope you'd like them but ready to return them at your word. you looked up after opening the gift, and his heart skipped a beat. “kiyo—”

“it’s a promise ring,” he said quickly and softly. “they’re just promise rings. don’t worry. i just…” he reached into his pocket to take out his own. his ears embarrassingly hot as he tried to explain, “i wanted us to have them.”

“...unless you don’t like them, or this is still a little–”

“‘omi.” he froze at your voice, and you stepped forward to wrap your arms around his neck as he held you to his chest. “it's perfect. thank you.”

and he’s careful. so, so careful to keep his safe and always on him, even if it's hidden in a pocket somewhere, only out so he can kiss it before each game. and that’s why it's a shock, especially to him, when a reporter comments on it during a press interview.

“sakusa, would that happen to be a ring on your finger there?”

that's all it takes for kiyoomi’s mind to blank. he had fiddled with it while on a call with you, what? 10, 15 minutes ago? and apparently the voices of his teammates caught him so off guard that he forgot to put it away before being called over.

kiyoomi wasn't stupid—the opposite, really. with everyone's eyes on him, he knew there was no believable way out of this. his eyes flicker down to where the band of metal sat and stared back, as if taunting him for his mistake, and all he can say is “yes.”

a grimace pulls at his lips when the camera flashes seem to get brighter at the word, and he can feel the stares of his team and management unintentionally burning holes into him. the reporter moves a little closer. “does that mean—”

“no, i’m not married, or engaged.”

“ah,” she replies, shifting a little in her seat again. her confusion was evident, and she hesitates in confirming, “so it’s just a ring, then?”

“no.”

“i–i’m sorry?”

“it’s a promise ring," kiyoomi explains. and he sees the reporter is about to speak again, but he's quicker. “yes, i'm in a relationship. but that’s all i have to say about it today, thank you.”

so the interview carries on with his announcement in the air, and he can feel an oncoming headache when he overhears the trending headlines and hashtags after they're done. "sakusa kiyoomi confirms he's in a relationship!", "how long has sakusa been dating somebody? is he secretly married?", and apparently threads of images where fans tried to collect evidence for and against it all.

it's too much, and his mind's muddled and reeling by the time he gets home. he doesn't know what to do or what to say next; the only thing kiyoomi knows for certain is that he has to find you. so he takes off his shoes and jacket, padding up to your shared bedroom. slowly, he opens the door to see you in bed on your phone, and he wonders if you're reading the news.

“hey,” you greet him quietly.

“hi.” he breathes. opening your arms, you gesture for him to join you under the covers and he complies easily. he makes his way into your arms, face burying into the crook of your neck. there's a few seconds where neither of you speak until he finally mumbles, “i’m sorry.”

and he knows you know what he’s apologizing for. kiyoomi also knows you won’t be upset, he just thinks you should be; he had one job outside of volleyball, and it was to keep you safe. but your voice remains gentle as you begin to rub circles on his back, “why are you apologizing? you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“tell that to everyone else.”

“well, they all love me so i’m sure i could pull some strings for you. y’know, keep you out of trouble.”

he huffs, “you say that as if it isn’t accurate.” you feel him frown against your skin and a laugh escapes you. hearing the sound, kiyoomi can't stop himself from smiling despite the nerves in his stomach.

he licks his lips and using his thumb, spins the promise ring on his hand before asking you, “you know i won’t tell them anything else, right? unless you wanted to?”

“yeah, of course i do. never worried about that.”

“we’ll have a meeting this week to figure out what to do, or say, or whatever. i’ll—”

“the only thing you’ll be doing right now is resting,” you cut him off. he moves to look up at you and opens his mouth to speak, stopping himself when you run your thumb against the nape of his neck. “you’ve had a long enough day, ‘omi. leave that for tomorrow.”

“but—”

“nope, sleep time. i better hear you snoring.”

he frowns. “i don’t snore.”

“oh really? you’re gonna say that to me?” a smile dances on your lips and kiyoomi scoffs, a smile already on his own, before nudging your cheek with his finger, and you feel the cool metal of his promise against your skin.

“but seriously, we can figure it all out later. and if this is how everyone finds out then, you know. it won't change anything, maybe just the amount of fan edits i get to watch,” you joke lightly.

kiyoomi blinks, both at the news of you watching fan edits and the implication of your words. “you think i'll lose fans?”

“what? oh, no, are you kidding? i think you'll gain a lot. 'hot, brooding volleyball player sakusa kiyoomi is actually a sweetheart who loves having his hair played with—” you let out a yelp as the aforementioned volleyball player suddenly pulls the blanket over your head. the both of you laugh as you take it off and pretend to be offended.

kiyoomi's gaze softens at your reaction, and instead of apologizing he says easily, “i love you.”

the words catch you off guard, but after a second you reply just the same, “i love you too.” and kiyoomi's heart aches at it—the way you comfort and love him so effortlessly. but it's soothed by the sensation of your own ring against his face as you hold his cheek, and the reminder that no matter what happens next, his reputation be damned, you'll both be alright.

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next time

wc: 1.9k

warnings: dabi being a menace (as always), injury and violence mention

You’ve been in a lot of hairy and otherwise life-threatening situations as a pro-hero. There’s the time you got pinned under a car, and that other time you were held at gunpoint. Oh! And there was even one afternoon where you’d ended up strung up by your ankle from a skyscraper window. Dangling 400 feet above cold, hard cement really encourages a person to reconsider their life choices (but apparently not enough to make you quit your job).

So curling up against the cool, stinky metal of a dumpster in some back alley in Hosu City with notorious League of Villains member Dabi crouching in front of you like the cat that got the cream, all things considered, really isn’t that surprising.

Your leg is busted, so you can’t run. And with the heavens above as your witness, you’d tried. The only good it served was to send bile up your throat and white hot pain shooting through the meat of your thigh. Not smart. Your side burns and blood bullies through the gaps between your fingers, sticky and wet from the blast of a scummy criminal some ten minutes earlier. You hunch further against the dumpster, the adrenaline racing from your bloodstream leaves your body feeling tired, limbs leaden. You can’t fight anymore.

Feeling defeated, you huff a sigh and close your eyes. “Here to cut off all my limbs, leave me for dead? Isn’t that what you villains get up to on Monday nights?” 

“Dismemberment isn’t really my thing, doll.”

“Arson then? That seems to be more your speed.”

Dabi offers you a lazy smile. “Arson’s fine.”

“Mmm, nice,” your side throbs and you wince. “Well? Hero barbecue tonight? ‘M sure the League would love that.”

Your comment goes ignored. “It’s nice to see you again, little hero. Rough night?”

Keep reading

Hoshiumi knows he’s not meant for a run-through-the-airport kind of love.

That dramatic energy that compels someone to chase someone else just to deliver a confession. He’s watched his classmates and teammates fall in and out of relationships as they’ve inspired different kinds of affections, different dramatic scenes.

He accepted that he’d never really elicit that kind of reaction from anyone and made peace with it as he made peace with his height.

After all, he could still dominate on the volleyball court. That’s where the dramatic moments centered around him were meant to occur.

The first gift Hoshiumi ever gave you was a blank notebook.

He noticed how you would doodle in any blank margin or on any scrap and thought you deserved a proper place to draw.

Though you always had it with you he never saw you use it. Just like accepting so many other things as fact, he assumed you were just being nice by carrying it around

until he caught a glimpse inside. The pages were covered in detailed drawings. It felt like winning a tournament and he was so giddy about it that his teammates, who thought they were used to his boisterous behavior, had to ask him to calm down.

So he gave you another one on your next birthday.

And the one after that.

Catching glimpses of sketches and drawings in the months after, proof that you did use them.

He misses your next birthday because of an away game but stops by to give you a gift when he gets back. To your relief and delight, it’s another notebook.

“Thank you.“ You beam and clutch it to your chest. “I’m so glad…I was worried you thought I didn’t like them.”

“Why?” he asks, face screwing up in confusion.

“Oh,” you grimace in embarrassment and explain “because you never asked to see what I did with them.”

He gulps, suddenly nervous. “…C-Can I?”

You offer them to him with shining eyes and he looks through, gently flipping page after page of beautiful designs and sketches and drawings and there’s figure studies of

him.

There are drawings of him.

Hoshiumi knows he’s not a run-through-the-airport kind of love. But as you confess your feelings for him, your admiration for his dramatic presence on the court,

he realizes he’s meant for something better.

thinking about watching tomura sleep.

maybe lying on the bed, rolling onto your side, thinking to yourself this is one of these times you want to last forever. few are the times in which he looks so peaceful — you can see it in the way his eyelids are shut, his expression completely relaxed. there's no stress, anger or nothing that can possibly perturb his peace, and it's written all over his slightly parted lips, soft snores and occasional spasms of his limbs. he's so unaware of how beautiful he looks, how much you admire that peace. all of that is a motive for a smile to sneak into plain view — it's a moment to treasure.

but just when a finger reaches for the strand of his hair curtaining his face in order to brush it away, you realize that, in fact, he's aware that you're there. a surprised squeak leaves you when your wrist is tugged at, so that now you're pulled into him.

"quit watchin' and sleep instead." he sighs, a trail of his hoarse voice, product of his sleeping, coating his words.

now that he's wrapped his arms around you, buried his nose into your hair, and he inhales the scent of your shampoo, easily dozing back off, now it's safe to say that he's truly at ease.

rockstar dabi nsfw and sfw hcs

not proofread

-i feel like this would be a good profession for dabi. he'd be really good at coming up with lyrics and guitar riffs that could make ppl cry. the way his fingers strum on the guitar effortlessly would probably attract many people to him and his music.

-one day he spots you in the crowd of one of his concerts. there's a huge amount of people there, but you catch his eye. he sends you a flirty glare from up on stage before launching into the next song.

-which leads to you later getting fucked by him in his bed.

-you meet up with him again after he gives you his personal number, at a club that he frequently goes to. he looks delicious, you think. his hair puffs up perfectly and he radiates confidence most people could only dream of having. he seems to really like you.

-the only downside of dating him is that rockstar dabi edits would plague the internet and probably annoy the shit out of you. he would have a cult following, no doubt about it.

-it's hard not to get jealous when your boyfriend is practically stalked by half his fanbase, but you know him well enough to recognize that he hates that part just as much as you do.

-buys you fancy outfits and takes you to events with him. only to rip them off later and stick his throbbing cock inside of you. horniest mf out there, second to me.

-will fight off reporters trying to ask you questions. his personal life stays as far away from the public as he can get it. especially pertaining to you. he wants everyone to know he's taken, don't get me wrong, and he loves you and wants people to see you with him. but he's seen how rumors on the news can fuck up good relationships and he doesn't want anything like that to happen to you guys.

-loves that you're his gf and a fan of his music, seeing you in his merch makes him go 😍🥵🦴😘💗💘

-if he ever catches you listening to one of his songs in your airpods or headphones or whatever his heart will melt.

-such a pretty voice when he sings and when he's moaning out your name. i think rockstar dabi would have a hella oral fixation. he'd be so fucking good with his tongue. like unreasonably good. the depth of his music will bring you tears but so will his mouth on you.

Dadmas Day 1: New Baby

pairing: Hawks/Keigo Takami x f!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: a little bit of new parent anxiety mentioned, but that's about it. all fluff <3 also your baby has wings.

notes: he would be the best dad and no one can tell me different <3 scared out of his mind, I'm sure, but so, SO good to you and your little baby :(

Being married to the fastest man around certainly comes with it’s fair share of perks, especially when you’re a new parent.

You hear the warbled cry over the video monitor and it wakes you from your much needed slumber. You'd only just gotten back to sleep and you need so much more rest, but you know that you’re not likely to get it. Not with a 10 week old. Not when your husband works the hours that he does.

He didn't want to have to go back to work so soon. He tried and he tried to stay away, so that he could be home with you for the first few months, but the Commission isn't exactly an organization that he can say no to. You were just grateful that you got the couple of months with him that you did have.

The past couple weeks have been an adjustment period for everyone in your precious little family, but you were all managing. You know he worries himself sick about you both when he's on duty and you can only imagine how tired he must be by the time he arrives home, but he always insists on taking over and letting you get some rest.

You rise from the bed, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you shuffle into your slippers to head down the hall, already looking forward to Keigo breezing in through the door to usher you towards the couch for a breather.

You silently hope that maybe, just maybe, your son will fall back to sleep on his own. Maybe you can head back to bed right now and get just a few more minutes of sleep.

To your surprise, the baby does fall quiet. His whine tapers off and you hear him coo oh so quietly. It must be a miracle, you think to yourself.

But then a wave of panic hits you. That nagging thought that always pops up unwelcome in your brain: what if he's quiet, because something happened?

Trying to fight combat the negative thoughts, you tell yourself that he's fine. He must be learning to soothe himself. That's a good thing! There's no need to worry and you certainly don't want to wake him if that's the case.

Still, you scurry back to nab the monitor from your bedroom, turning it on with hopes that you'd be able to see his tiny little chest moving up and down. Maybe catch one of his adorably petite wings twitching in his sleep. Something, anything.

Full blown panic sets in when the monitor powers on and you see nothing. Just an empty crib.

Your heart skips a beat and you almost drop the monitor as you go to take off, but then you hear it.

"Yeah, you're okay, little guy," you hear your husband coo, just barely catching a glimpse of his wing before he strolls back in front of the camera, gently rocking your baby boy back to sleep.

"Mommy needs her sleep, y'know. I think between the two of us, we're gonna end up driving her crazy one day, so let's at least let her get some rest, yeah?" He continues whispering to the child as he paces about the room. "You need sleep too, so you can keep growing, though I can't believe how big you are already."

You clap a hand over your chest, tears welling in your eyes as your heart swells. Maybe the influx of hormones or the delirium of not getting any rest had something to do with the onslaught of tears that begin trickling freely over your cheeks, but it mostly had to do with thr fact that you married such a good man.

He wasn't convinced that he'd be a good dad, despite how badly he wanted kids. He was terrified that maybe he'd end up like one of his parents, despite how you assured him that you knew that would never happen. He was too pure of a soul to let it.

Still, for all your reassurances, he never really believed he'd be great at this, but right now you were seeing the proof. You could only hope that he was able to see it too.

How could he think he was anything less than a great father so far? Even on nights when it seemed like your son would never stop crying, he remained calm enough for the both of you. He was always doing more than his fair share, saying that he had plenty to make up for, since you're the one who had to suffer through labor. Even before the baby was born, he'd surprised you one day by filling the nursery with ay and every little thing you'd mentioned wanting for it. He took the weekend off to make sure that everything was just right for your little one before they even came home.

And here he was, swooping into the nursery—even though he was supposed to be on patrol—to soothe the fussing infant, so that you could get a modicum of more sleep.

You set the monitor back down and travel down the hall to slowly and quietly swing the nursery door open. Keigo freezes in his tracks, though he keeps rocking the baby while he stares at you as if he'd just been caught redhanded.

"I had the monitor app open and I know that you'd only just put him down," he stars explaining, speaking quickly and quietly as he starts shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I was close, so I figured I'd just pop in and take care of it, so you wouldn't have to get up."

"Baby, do you think I'm upset with you or something?" You laugh, though the sound is barely audible.

You're aiming to stay quiet as you approach so that the baby who's nodding off in his arms continues drifting off to sleep. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you look down at the cherubic figure all bundled up in his strong arms. The little wings definitely help him look even more like an angel. Getting a baby swaddled while having to mind said wings is a bit of a chore, but it's worth it to see them the plush crimson feathers ruffling as his eyes close and he lets out the tiniest, cutest yawn you've ever heard.

Keigo's also briefly distracted by the noise and you catch the look on his face when he glances down at your little bundle of joy. You've seen the way he smiles at you. How soft and warm and full of radiance that smile is, but still, that's nothing compared to how he looks at the little miracle that you'd made together. It makes your heart swell with pride all over again.

"No. I mean—," he shrugs, looking a little helpess in a very cute and adorably sincere way as he peeks over at you before carefully laying your son back down in his crib. "I don't want you to think that I don't think you can handle this or something like that."

"Baby, it's okay," you say softly, taking another step closer to wrap your arms around him from behind and gently nuzzle your face between his wings. "I know that you don't think that. I know that you're just doing everything you can for us and I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate it."

He smiles to himself, looking down at his slumbering son as he folds his arms over yours, just enjoying your embrace for a moment.

"You both deserve nothing but the best. I really don't mind rushing back home for a few if it means you get another hour or sleep. You deserve it," he whispers, giving your arm a squeeze before he steps away to turn and pull you into his arms.

"And that's exactly why I will never stop telling you what a great dad you are," you reply, smiling softly as you drape your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. "Pretty good husband too."

It's dark in the room, but you can feel the heat rising in his neck to flood his face as you start walking backwards to guide him out of the nursery.

"Just doin' my best," he murmurs, mirror your smile as he sends a feather off to close the door behind you once you step out into the hall.

"Well," you say as you begin to walk your fingers along his pecs. "Since I am already awake and you're here..do you have some time?"

His eyebrows raise, hands slipping to your hips as he brings them flush against his own. "I think I can make some time. If you're sure you don't wanna just head back to bed," he adds sincerely, checking your expression to make sure.

"You two are worth losin' sleep for," you whisper, smiling as you lean in to press your lips to his again as you tug him into the bedroom.