Hello! It’s been a minute since I have written but I have quite a few drabbles ready to go.
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TF141 X f Aussie Reader.
Summary: you’re new to the task force but the boys cant get over the Aussie slang you bring even though Soap cannot be talking!
“Yeah, Nah, Mate.”
She’d been with Task Force 141 for three months.
Three very long months of proving herself in the field, learning their rhythms, earning trust the hard way—and still, somehow, every single operation turned into an excuse for them to absolutely rip into her.
She crouched at the head of the formation, scanning the ridgeline with practiced ease, Aussie accent calm and steady over comms.
“Alright, reckon we cut left here. Terrain’s lookin’ a bit dodgy up ahead but we’ll be right.”
There it was.
Ghost didn’t even hesitate.
“Reckon.”
Soap immediately perked up.
“Ah dinnae like tha’ word.”
Gaz followed, delighted.
“Yeah, that one sounded made up.”
She paused mid-step and turned her head slowly, incredulous. “—What’s wrong with reckon?”
Soap crept closer, rifle raised, voice thick and musical.
“Ah’m jist sayin’, every time ye speak it sounds like ye’re aboot tae start a bar fight.”
Ghost added, “Or finish one.”
She scoffed. “You lot are cooked.”
Price’s voice came in, amused.
“Cooked?”
Gaz grinned. “That’s another.”
She threw a hand up. “It means you’re all a few snags short of a barbie!”
Soap lost it.
“A what?!”
Ghost tilted his head. “Did she just threaten us with sausages?”
She stared at them through her visor, dead serious. “I swear to God, you mob would not survive five minutes back home.”
Soap laughed breathlessly.
“Ah cannae even understand her insults an’ they still hurt.”
Despite herself, she smirked and kept moving. She flowed through the terrain like she belonged there—quiet, sharp, confident. Her movement spoke louder than her slang ever could.
She stopped near the objective, kneeling beside the rusted structure housing their intel cache.
“Target’s just in there,” she murmured. “Door’s lookin’ a bit rooted.”
The silence was immediate.
Heavy.
Then—
Soap, wheezing:
“Did—did she jist say rooted?”
Gaz nearly dropped his rifle.
“I refuse to believe that means what I think it means.”
Price sighed like a man who had seen too much.
“Sergeant. Please clarify.”
She blinked. “…Broken?”
Ghost’s voice went flat.
“You can’t just say that.”
“Why not? It is.”
Soap clutched his chest dramatically.
“Christ, Price, she’s gonnae get us written up.”
She shook her head, muttering as she pried the panel open. “Buncha softcocks.”
All four of them:
“…What.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Means you’re all bein’ sooks.”
Soap squinted.
“Ah feel personally attacked an’ Ah still dinnae ken why.”
Mission done. Clean. Smooth. No complications.
Which meant the real danger started back at base.
She kicked her boots off in the rec room, flopping onto the couch with a groan. “Bloody oath, that went smoother than I thought.”
Gaz froze mid-reach for a drink.
“Say that again.”
She waved him off. “Nah.”
Soap dropped into the chair opposite her, grinning ear to ear.
“Ye say nah like it’s a full sentence.”
“It is a full sentence.”
Ghost leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
“She does it on purpose now.”
Price sat down with his mug, watching her with open amusement.
“You do realize we only give you grief because you’re new, right?”
She raised a brow. “Right. And why don’t you give him grief?” She jerked her thumb at Soap. “Half the time he sounds like he’s speakin’ through a mouthful of marbles.”
Soap gasped, scandalized.
“Ah’ll have ye ken this is a beautiful accent.”
Gaz snorted.
“Debatable.”
Soap shot him a look.
“Shut it, ye posh git.”
She laughed, finally, full and unguarded. “See? You understand him fine but I say ‘no worries’ and suddenly it’s a bloody mystery.”
Ghost replied evenly, “You said ‘no worries’ after disarming a potential explosive.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause—no worries.”
Price shook his head, smiling.
“You fit in better than you think.”
She softened a bit at that, then smirked. “Yeah, nah.”
Soap grinned.
“Ah’m startin’ tae understand that one.”
Ghost muttered, “I hate that.”
She stretched out on the couch, hands behind her head. “Face it, boys. You love me.”
Soap nodded enthusiastically.
“Aye. Ye’re like a rabid koala.”
“…That’s not a compliment.”
“Ah meant it lovingly.”
She laughed again, feeling it settle in her chest.
The world of music was your salvation. As Y/N, the lead singer of the band Dead Sea, you had become a force of nature on stage, your voice weaving stories that resonated with thousands—a stark contrast to the lonely echoes of your childhood in Gotham.
The Batfamily had never truly seen you. Growing up, they had their battles to fight, their own demons to confront. You were often pushed aside, treated like an afterthought. Was the world burning? Who had time for a kid struggling to fit in? “Not now, kid,” they would say, rushing off into the night to save the city. And so you learned to be silent, to hide your hurt with a smile that rarely reached your eyes.
After a lifetime of feeling like a burden, one day, you’d finally had enough. You packed your bags and walked away from the towering shadows of Wayne Manor, desperate to find a place where you mattered. The life of a singer on the road was everything you had dreamed of—freedom, acceptance, and the kind of love that felt genuine, wrapped in the arms of your supportive bandmates who always encouraged each other.
But back in Gotham, the Batfamily slowly began to unravel under the weight of your absence. They felt the void where your laughter used to echo—realizing how deeply they had taken you for granted. Alfred, who had always been a pillar of strength, finally exploded one evening, slamming a hand down on the dining table.
“This silence is unbearable!” he roared, his voice breaking through their casual conversation. “You are all so wrapped up in your own lives that you've completely ignored Y/N! You have lost someone precious because of your selfishness!”
Suddenly, the reality crashed down on them, a flood of guilt pooling in their hearts. They had pushed you away, pushed away their own flesh and blood, and now they yearned to salvage what remained of the shattered bond. Frantically, they began reaching out, but each call and message met with silence. Each time their phones chimed with no response, it felt like a knife twisting deeper.
You had jammed the thought of your family as deep as you could, but they'd never truly left you, not entirely. Their voices haunted you amidst the melodies you crafted with Dead Sea. You were grateful to finally be free, but there was always a twinge of sorrow deep within—a void that echoed memories of hollow attempts at connection.
Weeks passed before the Batfamily decided to confront you in person. They gathered their courage and picked a night when Dead Sea was scheduled to perform at a local venue, hoping to reconnect. In their minds, they envisioned stepping through the crowd to meet you with open arms, ready to apologize and make amends.
As they arrived, the energy in the room was electric, filled with the excited chatter of your fans. On stage, you appeared like a phoenix rising, commanding the spotlight with an effortless grace. The moment the first chord rang out, the crowd erupted in cheers, the atmosphere alive with a pulse that echoed your vibrant spirit. But in the back of your mind, an unsettling feeling gnawed at you.
Had you really escaped from Gotham?
As your eyes scanned the thrumming crowd, they settled on something that sent your heart racing—figures cloaked in familiar silhouettes, standing just beyond the lights. The Batfamily. Panic rose through your veins, an instinctual desire to flee cloaked in fear. You felt every moment spent in their absence flood your mind—their laughter that never included you, the shadows that took up all the space on their shoulders, leaving none for you.
But instinct kicked in, and your bandmates instinctively moved closer, hands on your arms to steady you. “Focus on the audience,” one suggested, his voice a calm balm against your spiraling thoughts. “We’re here with you.”
Taking a deep breath, you channeled that fear, transforming it into music. You sang, pouring your heart into each note, attempting to drown out the looming figures of your past. As the concert surged, you poured everything into the performance, losing yourself in the thrill of it all. But their presence lingered at the edges of your awareness, like a dark cloud lurking just out of sight.
When the final song drew near, you decided to confront the past. Silence enveloped the venue as you stepped forward, your heart thudding wildly.
“I want to dedicate this song,” you exclaimed, your voice steady despite the trembling beneath. “This is for my little brother… but me and him aren’t family anymore now.”
The words hung thick in the air, powerful and raw. A collective gasp swept through the audience, igniting a wave of tension that rippled through the Batfamily. They stood frozen, guilt crashing over them like a tidal wave, each sibling exchanging shocked glances, realizing how truly deep the wound had become. The implications of your words struck them like daggers—they had not just lost a sibling; they had lost you.
Every note you sang afterward felt heavy with regret, hurt, and anger—the culmination of years spent in silence while you wished for acknowledgment. Without looking at them, you poured your anguish into the music, weaving a tapestry of intense emotion in every line. The crowd swayed, engulfed in the moment, swept away by your passion, but your eyes remained burdened, never leaving the shadows that lingered at the back.
After the final song, you lingered on stage, adrenaline coursing through your body but leaving a hollow ache in your heart. You wanted to scream, to cry, to make them understand the weight of their absence in your life, but words failed you.
Leaving the stage, you turned your back on the very shadows that once consumed you. Walking away felt liberating, but the ache in your heart would linger long after you left, echoing as you closed the chapter on what was—knowing that family, however flawed, was something you had desperately craved but never truly had.
As the Batfamily stood there, paralyzed by their own regrets, the message was clear: they couldn’t change the past, but they could still hope for a different future. They would stop at nothing to bring you back, to remind you that maybe, just maybe, love could mend what had been shattered.
But for now, you had chosen your path, and the shadows of Gotham would no longer define you. You were Y/N, the voice of Dead Sea, and you would be the master of your own destiny. As the lights dimmed and the crowd began to disperse, you stepped away from the echoes of old wounds toward a brighter horizon, determined to embrace the future you had fought so hard to create.
Your forehead was creased in a deep frown, eyes narrowed as you glared at the blank wall ahead. Yizhuo mirrored your expression with a scowl of her own, arms crossed firmly over her chest, lips jutted out in a pout. You clenched your jaw at the sound of yet another angered huff slipping past her parted lips. Jimin scoffed as she glanced between the two of you, releasing a tired sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is so stupid,” she muttered under her breath, rising from her seat opposite the two of you. “I don’t even understand why you guys are fighting!” The leader exclaimed, running a hand through her dark locks in frustration.
“Because she was-” “It’s her fault-” You and Yizhuo began to yell in unison, voices muffled by one another. Jimin sent you both a pointed glare, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I don’t care, you’re not leaving this room until you make up,” the oldest shouted, slamming the door behind her as she exited with an indignant huff. Pursing your lips, you eyed Yizhuo discreetly, catching sight of the fury that masked her usually soft features. It wasn’t often the two of you fought, only making it easier for things to get out of control far faster than normal. Feeling your anger begin to dissipate, you tucked your knees into your chest, turning to her with a frown etched on your face.
She dropped her hands to her sides with a grunt at the feeling of your gaze boring holes into the side of her head. “Yizhuo,” you mumbled softly, hesitantly reaching out to her hand, nervously lacing your pinky with hers. “I don’t want to fight anymore,” you whispered carefully, gazing at her hopefully. The corners of your lips tugged up as she unconsciously unclenched her fists so you could properly grasp her hand in your own, interlacing your fingers gently. “You think I do?!” She yelled, causing you to flinch back at the volume of her voice. Yizhuo didn’t let you stray far, her grip on your hand tightening as she turned to gaze at you apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she apologised for raising her voice, gnawing at the inside of her cheek.
“I’m just tired, Y/n.” Yizhuo admitted, her hand slipping from your grasp as she rose to her feet. You blinked rapidly as she shuffled towards the door, pausing briefly before moving past the threshold. “Let's sleep for now, we’ll talk tomorrow,” she uttered weakly, slipping out of the room without another word, retreating to her bedroom. You curled into a ball on the couch, shrinking further into the soft cushions, not having the motivation to move further. Unwilling to take the risk of slipping into bed by her side in fear of rejection, you found yourself uncovered and shivering on the couch, tossing and turning as sleep eluded you. The cold air of the night was harder to bear without Yizhuo there to offer her warm cuddles.
A faint creak in the distance had the hairs on the back of your neck raising, a chill running down your spine at the eerie silence that followed. You tensed at the sound of light footsteps, eyes widening as a body fell onto the couch beside yours. “Why didn’t you come to bed?” Yizhuo questioned, arms wrapping around you as she snuggled closer. She held her breath as you shifted in her hold, fearing that you may push her away, but calming as you only turned to face her. The dull glow of the moon illuminated her features, bottom lip sucked between her teeth, eyes swirling with uncertainty as she gazed at you.
“I can’t stay mad at you,” she grumbled with a sigh, pulling you impossibly closer, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces on the small couch. You curled your fingers into the soft fabric of her hoodie, leaning forwards and planting a featherlight kiss to the tip of Yizhuo’s nose. A bright smile broke out on her face as she tenderly pressed her forehead to yours, brushing her nose against yours with a giggle. You grinned at the melodious sound, pecking her lips before ducking your head shyly, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. “I’m glad we’re not fighting anymore,” Yizhuo mumbled, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head.
“Me too,” you sighed blissfully, eyes fluttering closed as her warm hold lulled you into a sleepy state. “I can’t sleep without you,” you admitted, voice muffled against her skin. She smiled softly at the confession, tightening her grip around your waist. “Glad I’m not the only one,” Yizhuo spoke softly, a smile creeping onto your lips as her angelic voice met your ears. “Goodnight Yizhuo, I love you,” you mumbled sleepily, struggling to keep yourself awake, but holding on in favour of hearing her say those three words back. “Goodnight Y/n, I love you too, so much,” she spoke softly . As soon as the words rolled off her tongue you fell into a deep slumber, a content smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
Why were they fighting? I have no clue, I wrote this with absolutely no thoughts.
Shikamaru surprises you at the bathhouse during your anniversary
Genre: Smut With Plot, Shadow Jutsu fucking, Anal, Vaginal, etc.
wc: 1,250
You lingered in the bathhouse as the others left, wanting to savor the last moments of your anniversary, the day Shikamaru and you met.
You squinted at your own image in the water. "Even if he was busy, I wanted him to acknowledge the importance of today."
Hurtful tears stream down your face, one by one falling into the water.
“Y/n.”
You exhaled deeply as your eyes widened, splashing water on your face to mask the pain before turning to face your husband.
"You shouldn't be in here."
When you turned around, you were greeted by Shikamaru who was completely naked.
"Before I came, I double-checked that it was empty." As he walked in, the water level rose, heading straight for you.
"I went looking for you because I assumed you'd be at home. You didn't leave a note like you usually do."
H- does he notice the notes I leave behind? He never mentioned them.
"I have a feeling something isn't right."
You yell at him, trying your hardest not to cry. "You never pay attention! Our anniversary was today, and you didn't even mention it! You just got out of bed early!"
You turn away from him as the pain you'd been holding in overcame you and tears streamed down your cheeks.
"You would have seen what I got you if you were home, which is why I left to look for you."
As he turned you to face him, his chest pressed against yours.
"When it comes to you, the notes, your advice, nothing escapes my notice...Any words you say, I take in wholeheartedly."
He was more of an observer, and he had always been that way, but once you were married, you felt he was shifting away from you.
"I would have spoken out if I had known it would lead to this, and I apologize for that."
His hands traveled up your thighs as his head rested against your shoulder.
"T- that Tickles!" you exclaims. In the water, you toss and turn, but his grip tightens around your waist, encasing you in his arms.
"I haven't been meeting your needs lately; I'd say it won't happen again, but lying about it is pointless."
You felt his soft lips pressed against the back of your neck, planting kisses down your spine as you gazed down at the water.
"Let's make up for lost time."
As you became flustered by his choice of words, blood rushed to your cheeks.
You can't recall the last time he acted like this, and you'd rather be with him in that moment than question it.
You turn back to face him, slightly embarrassed by his directness. He grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist as his lips curled into a wicked grin.
"I'm going to do something different this time."
Before looking down at you, he looked up. You quickly realized what he was up to. He wanted to take advantage of the shadow cast by a tree over a particular area of the water.
You could feel his shadow jutsu crawling up your legs as you were in his arms, sending shivers down your spine.
His hand reaches for his cock while submerged, rubbing against your clit. "I've never done anything like this before, so please excuse me if it hurts."
You felt his shadow jutsu plunging inside of your ass at the same time he thrust his cock inside of you. Your insides throbbed with the pain of being pierced in both holes.
"I'm starting to get envious; are you more interested in my jutsu or in me?" He questioned you as your facial expressions became increasingly lewd by the second.
He watched in awe as you struggled to take it all in, biting on your lips as you lifted your head to the sky.
You were soon aware of his teeth tugging at your skin, kissing you from the base of your neck to your breast, leaving bruises in its wake.
"R- r- r- right there, don't stop."
"I never thought you were the type to like it deep, but I'm afraid I won't be able to contain myself." He cocked his head and smirked.
His strokes became faster as he penetrated you from both ends.
You felt dirty because you were enjoying yourself; he was satisfying you on both ends, and all you wanted to do now was orgasm.
" Ah ah...Not so fast."
He comes to a halt after removing his shadow jutsu. You were irritated because your body yearned for him to cum inside of you.
"I- I'm sorry in advance Shikamaru." Your response perplexed him, so he cocked his head to the side.
You thrust back and forth, digging even deeper. You didn't have it in you to wait; it had been so enjoyable from the start, so why stop now?
As you grow hungry for his cock, you tighten your legs around his waist, trapping his movement.
He didn't stop when you took the lead; instead, he synced his hip movement with yours, penetrating your insides even further as you cruse his name.
He comes to a halt after removing his shadow jutsu. You were irritated because your body yearned for him to cum inside of you.
"I- I'm sorry in advance Shikamaru." Your response perplexed him, so he cocked his head to the side.
You thrust back and forth, digging even deeper. You didn't have it in you to wait; it had been so enjoyable from the start, so why stop now?
As you grow hungry for his cock, you tighten your legs around his waist, trapping his movement.
He didn't stop when you took the lead; instead, he synced his hip movement with yours, penetrating your insides even further as you curse his name.
It didn't take long for the two of you to start orgasming, as your legs quiver around him, your eyes roll back, and your head rests on his shoulder.
Cum spilled into the water, contaminating it. Your ass ached even more, and you were slightly tired but not yet ready to give up.
You lift yourself up, forcing yourself down onto Shikamaru's limp cock as his chest expands as he tries to catch his breath.
"Y/n! wait!"
It was too late; you'd been caught up in the moment. As your body jolted every few seconds, you grinded your hips back and forth, inching his cock even deeper.
"If you keep going, n- nothing will come out." He stumbled over his words as he spoke. Your ass was even tighter, only in a good way hurting him.
As you became more violent, the water splashed, wanting to suck every last bit of cum inside of you.
"I'm cumming!" The sensation was too much for Shikamaru, so he shoved his hips even harder, causing you to lose all sense of reason.
As you both orgasmed again, his cock slipped out and cum spilled into the water once more.
You were at an all-time high, and nothing seemed to be able to stop you. You felt cum bubbling from your ass and down your thighs as you lay against his chest.
"W- what came over you?"
Feeling embarrassed you burrow your head into his chest, not uttering a word.
Even though you cleaned up, you still felt cum seeping out from both ends. Once you're both dressed, you walk back to your house hand in hand. It didn't matter because you couldn't stop thinking about the next time.
Dawn came wrapped in mist and the smell of cordite.
The training field stretched wide across the edge of the base with uneven ground, barricades, mock buildings, and mud crusted with frost. The sky hung low and colorless. The air bit at every breath. Frost liked that. The others just cursed it.
“Bloody hell, it’s freezin’,” Soap complained, rubbing his hands together as he jogged toward the start line. “How are you smiling, lass?”
Frost adjusted her gloves, ears twitching faintly above her hood. “Because this is perfect weather.”
“You’re cracked,” he said, but grinned anyway.
Price barked orders from the edge of the range, steam rising faintly from the heat that lived in his dragon blood. A cigar was poised between his fingers as he waited. His voice rolled like distant thunder. “Teams of two! Breach and clear pattern, no live rounds. You’ll rotate partners every round.”
“Guess that means we all get a turn with Frost,” Soap said under his breath.
“Lucky me,” she muttered. Her tail flicked once with amusement or irritation. Hard to tell.
The first drill paired her with Gaz.
He moved with a harpy’s sharp grace, quick, balanced, grounded even when his wings were folded tight beneath his vest. Their goal was a mock hostage rescue: enter, neutralize, extract.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Always.”
They moved as one. Frost slipped through the door like smoke, every movement controlled. Her ears flicked toward the faintest creak. Two targets right, one ahead. Her tail twitched once, a signal. Gaz followed instantly. Three seconds later, the room was theirs.
“Clean,” he said, almost impressed. “You move like you’ve done this a thousand times.”
“Closer to two,” she replied.
He chuckled quietly. “You ever slow down?”
She glanced over her shoulder, eyes glinting pale in the low light. “Only when I’m dead tired. Or dead.”
Gaz shook his head, smiling. “You know, you don’t have to be funny all the time.”
She looked at him. She was not quite smiling, nor was she trying to be quite serious. “Wasn’t trying to be.”
Next round: Soap.
They started at opposite ends of a mock warehouse, ordered to breach and “clear” each other using training knives.
Soap was grinning before it began. “Bet I can take ye down this time, snowcat.”
Her tail swished once, a lazy warning. “Bet you can’t.”
He lunged first, fast, feral, all teeth and energy. Frost sidestepped, caught his wrist, and spun him into a wall. He recovered instantly, laughing even as she blocked each strike.
He was strong, but she was precise. Her movements were low, quick, and quiet. A slice to his ribs (blunted blade), a sweep of her tail for balance, and suddenly she had him pinned, forearm across his chest, knife at his throat.
His grin didn’t fade.
“Bloody hell, you’re fast.”
“You talk too much.”
She stepped back, letting him up. He grinned wider. “Aye, but ye like it.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” she said, but there was the faintest hint of amusement in her voice. Her tail flicked once, betraying it.
Price’s voice cut across the field. “Enough flirting, MacTavish!”
“Ooch Aye Wasn’t flirtin’!” Soap yelled back, which only made Gaz laugh from across the range.
Last round: Ghost.
She felt him before she saw him, that cold, quiet aura that seemed to dim the air around him. He moved like a shadow; sound barely followed.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
They circled each other across the mat, two predators testing the air. She lunged first this time, knife flashing; he caught her wrist, twisted, forced her to adapt. She ducked under his arm, spun, and tried for his flank. Blocked again. He fought like he’d learned in the dark: efficient, brutal, unyielding.
And still, she didn’t back down. The clash of blades echoed, dull thuds of boots on mat.
Then he pinned her. A hand on her shoulder, blade to her neck.
“Dead,” he said flatly.
Her tail lashed once, annoyed. “You’re heavy.”
“Occupational hazard.”
He released her and stepped back, but his eyes lingered a moment longer than they should. Her pulse still hummed beneath skin; his cold air brushed it, and she found it strangely grounding, like standing in the heart of a storm that finally stilled.
After hours of drills, Price called them in.
“Good work today,” he said, voice gravelly. “Frost, you held your own.”
She only nodded. Compliments still felt like unfamiliar currency.
“Gaz,” Price continued, “run her through advanced flight procedures tomorrow. Soap, you’ll handle vehicle orientation.”
Soap saluted with a grin. “Aye, Captain. Can’t wait.”
As the others dispersed, Price lingered behind, watching Frost adjust the straps on her vest. “You’re adapting well,” he said quietly.
She looked up, wary. “To what?”
“To be part of a team again.”
Her tail stilled. Then flicked once, hesitant.
“I’m not sure I remember how.”
Price’s gaze softened, the faint shimmer of dragonfire in his eyes. “You will. Horde looks after its own.”
She didn’t answer, but something small and painful stirred beneath her ribs, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Later, in the locker room, Frost peeled off her tac gear. The faint hum of her exoskeleton spine pulsed low under her skin, a ghost of pain that never fully left. She traced the invisible lines where metal met bone, the cold familiar beneath her fingertips.
“Still holding together,” she murmured.
From outside, she could hear the muffled voices of Soap and Gaz laughing. Ghost’s quieter tone. Price’s low rumble. A warmth she didn’t quite know how to name.
Her ears twitched toward the sound, then folded back. Her tail curled loosely around her leg, as if protective yet comforting.
For the first time since TAK-1, she almost let herself hope.
💬 0 🔁 3 ❤️ 12 · HYBRID CODAU-“FROSTBITE” · ————————————————————————————————————————
Chapter two-The Hanger Wolves
The morning came slo
Like kakyoin and the reader were friends since childhood and the reader has "healing" powers ( the down side is that you take the wounds and or injuries of the one your "healing")
No rushing hope your doing good
Yandere Kakyoin x Gn Reader
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the quiet streets of Morioh. Kakyoin Noriaki walked slowly, his mind drifting back to the memories he shared with you. You had been friends since childhood, a bond forged in laughter and shared secrets. But there was something unique about you—something that set you apart from everyone else. You had the ability to heal others, a gift that came with a heavy price: you absorbed their injuries and pain.
Kakyoin remembered the first time he witnessed your stand. It was during a schoolyard accident when a classmate fell and scraped their knee. You rushed to their side, using your Stand ability to heal the child. In an instant, the bleeding stopped, and the child smiled, but you collapsed, clutching your own arm where a deep bruise had formed. It was a small price to pay for your kindness, but Kakyoin felt a pang of fear that day—a fear that he would lose you to your own selflessness.
As the years passed, Kakyoin became increasingly protective of you. He admired your strength, but he also worried about the toll your powers took on you. You never complained, always wearing a smile, but he could see the shadows lurking in your eyes. He wanted to shield you from the world to keep you safe from harm, even if it meant keeping you away from others who might need your help.
One fateful day, everything changed. You joined Jotaro and his group on a mission to defeat Dio. Kakyoin had begged you not to go, but your heart was too big to ignore someone in need. He watched helplessly as you embarked on the journey to Egypt, a sense of dread pooling in his stomach.
Throughout the journey, Kakyoin kept Polnareff and Jotaro away from you, fearing that their reckless actions would put you in harm's way. When you finally confronted Dio, Kakyoin's anxiety reached a breaking point. He wanted to keep you safe, to prevent you from putting yourself in danger, but you were determined. You were not a coward.
As the battle raged on, Kakyoin watched in horror as you took on the injuries of others—broken bones, deep cuts, and bruises that marred your skin. Your face was pale, and your body trembled under the weight of the pain you absorbed. Kakyoin's heart raced as he rushed to your side, panic flooding his senses. "Y/n, stop! I want you to live," he said, his voice laced with concern.
You smiled weakly, trying to reassure him. "I'm fine, Kakyoin. I just need to rest."
But he could see the pain etched on your face, the way you winced with every movement. It was unbearable. "You're not fine! You need to stop doing this to yourself!" His voice rose, desperation creeping in. "You can't keep taking on everyone's pain. It's killing you!"
You reached out, placing a hand on his cheek, your touch gentle and soothing. "I can handle it. I want to help people. It's who I am."
Kakyoin felt a surge of anger mixed with fear. "But what about you? What if one day you can't heal yourself? What if you die because of this?" The thought sent chills down his spine.
Your eyes softened, and for a moment, he saw the flicker of something deeper—a connection that transcended friendship. "I would do anything for you, Kakyoin. You know that."
In that moment, something inside him snapped. The thought of losing you, of watching you sacrifice yourself for others, ignited a fierce protectiveness within him. "No," he said, his voice low and intense. "You're not going to die for anyone. Not while I'm here."
He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours, a mix of desperation and determination swirling in his emerald eyes. "I won't let you. I can't lose you."
You blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his words. "Kakyoin, please—"
But he interrupted, his voice rising with fervour. "You don't understand! I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt. I need you to promise me you'll stop healing others. Just let me take care of you."
Your heart raced as you processed his words. There was a darkness in his eyes, a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. "Kakyoin. That's not who I am."
He stepped even closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Then I'll make sure you never have to heal anyone again. I'll protect you, even if it means keeping you away from everyone else."
A chill ran through you as you realized the depth of his feelings. Kakyoin's love for you was fierce, but it was also consuming. You had always known he cared deeply, but this was something else entirely. It was a love that bordered on obsession, a need to possess and protect you at all costs.
"Kakyoin, I—" you started, but he silenced you with a finger pressed gently against your lips.
"Just trust me," he whispered, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made your heart race.
In the heat of battle, Kakyoin saw the blood seeping from your wounds, and panic surged through him. He wanted to stop it, to save you, but he knew that if he intervened, he would only make things worse. All he cared about was you, even if it meant sacrificing himself.
You were slowly slipping away, your eyes fluttering closed. "No, Y/n, stay with me! Don't close your eyes, please!" Kakyoin begged, his voice breaking.
You smiled softly, warmth radiating from your gaze as you took your last breath.
Kakyoin's heart shattered. He cradled you in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he pressed his lips to yours. No matter how hard the Speedwagon Foundation tried to take your body, Kakyoin wouldn't let you go. He held you tightly, refusing to accept the reality of your loss.
Jotaro pulled his hat down, covering his face to shield himself from the sight of your lifeless body. Polnareff, Avdol, Iggy, and Mr. Joestar stood silently, their hearts heavy with grief. They had all cared for you, and now the group felt incomplete without your light. Kakyoin's cries echoed in the stillness, a haunting reminder of the love and sacrifice that had defined your bond.
Kakyoin took it upon himself to find a way to bring you back, even if it meant locking your body in a massive emerald crystal to preserve it, preventing it from decaying into a lifeless shell. He visited you often, talking to you as if you could hear him, imagining your voice encouraging him, telling him how great he was for keeping your body safe.
"Y/n, I'm back," Kakyoin said as he walked into the dimly lit room. He smiled as he held up a bag.
"I got something for you. It's your favourite dessert..." Kakyoin said, pulling out the treat and placing it in front of your still form. A quiet moment passed before he smiled wider, trying to hold back his tears.
"I found someone who can help you. Mmm, you like that? I can't wait to see you again."
His voice trembled with hope, a flicker of determination igniting within him. He would do whatever it took to bring you back, to restore the light that had been so cruelly snuffed out.
"His name is Josuke."
Thank you for your request. I apologize for the delay, and I hope you like it. Happy Valentine's Day to everyone!
Can you do a ( romantic) Yandere class 1a and Yandere Aizawa and mic(Platonic ) vs Platonic Yandere Hawks with reader who is Hawks sibling
Like Hawk found out you were going to Ua he got nervous since he knows how dangerous it is but he also wants you to have certain friends and wants you to be happy since you wanna be a hero just like your big brother so he lets you go to ua
Then in a few weeks, he started noticing how weird your classmates were acting after observing their behavior and how they would glare at Hawks so frequently so now Hawks is having a battle with these crazy ass students and teachers obsessing over you and trying to impress you or get your attention
Sorry for taking so long. I've been busy with courses, but I want you to know how much I love your stories! I hope you enjoy this request. Again, sorry for ignoring you for so long, I hope I didn't hurt your feelings. Keep up with your amazing work, @serxinns
Yandere Class 1-A x Gn Reader x yandere Platonic Hawks
◇.•°•.#$#_*_[♤]_*_#$#.•°•.◇
The bustling walls of U.A. High School echoed with enthusiasm and ambition. As one of the most prestigious hero academies in Japan, it was the perfect place for aspiring heroes like you to hone your quirk and skills. But for one individual, it was the threshold of anxiety; that individual was none other than Keigo Takami, or Hawks, your older brother.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Hawks asked as he lounged against the door frame of your room, his usual laid-back demeanour tempered with a protective edge. “U.A. is tough. The training, the exams… it can get dangerous.”
You looked up from your packing, determination radiating from your smile. “I want to be just like you, Hawks! I can handle it. Plus, this is my dream.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to hide the turmoil in his heart. “I know, I know. But you have to promise me you’ll be careful. And… choose your friends wisely, okay?”
“Cross my heart!” You grinned, sealing it with a playful salute. He couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling that familiar warmth wrap around him. He wanted you to be happy to forge your own path, even if it meant letting go a little.
Weeks passed, and the initial excitement of starting at U.A. began to blend into the routine of classes and training. You were eager to show them your skills, to prove that you belonged there just as much as anyone else—you were Hawks's sibling, after all. But it wasn't long before you started noticing the odd glances from your classmates, the whispers that swept through the hallways.
Hawks, busy with his own hero duties, kept an eye on you from behind the scenes, using his status to subtly monitor your new friends. Having been through the trials of U.A. himself, he recognized when someone was trying too hard to get close. And lately, it seemed like every student in Class 1-A was vying for your attention.
It started with the little things: Momo brought you homemade lunches every day, offering to study together late into the evenings. Bakugo, in his own abrasive way, often found reasons to pull you into training sessions, surprisingly protective whenever someone else approached you. Then there was Todoroki, who, despite his cold demeanour, always softened in your company, his gaze flickering with seriousness whenever he caught someone staring too long.
But what unnerved Hawks the most was the way they would stare at him—those glares filled with resentment, as if you were their possession and he was the intruder. It was unsettling, and each passing day added to his growing concern.
“Hey, you okay?” Your voice cut through his thoughts one evening as you entered the living room, where he was spread out on the couch after a long day. You had just returned from an intense training session, your cheeks flushed and excitement apparent.
“Yeah, just tired. How was your day?” he deflected, hoping you wouldn’t notice the tension in his own expression.
“Pretty good! The class is amazing, and I think I’m getting the hang of my quirk! Mr. Aizawa and Present Mic are really helpful.” You beamed, and for a moment, he forgot about the dark clouds lurking just outside your happiness.
But as the weeks dragged on, the more Hawks observed your classmates, the more he couldn’t ignore the unease. After a particularly intense training session where several of your classmates had raised their voices in heated exchange over who would help you train next, it became clear that their protectiveness was morphing into something much more obsessive.
One evening, Hawks arrived at U.A.'s dormitories, his heart racing as he sensed the atmosphere shift. He had come to see you, but it felt like stepping into a war zone. He spotted Aizawa and Mic at the lounge, their exchanged glances sharp with understanding—platonic yet protective, analyzing every move of the students around you.
“What’s going on?” Hawks asked casually, masking his concern.
“The classmates are getting out of hand,” Aizawa said, his voice low. “They’re fixating on Y/n in a way that’s concerning. I can keep an eye on them, but they’re not budging.”
“Are you serious?!” Hawks exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “We have to do something!”
Mic stepped in, ever the voice of dynamic energy tempered with unwavering loyalty. "We need to remind them that they're not the only ones who care about Y/n. They need to stop treating everyone like they're a rival for Y/n's attention."
Hawks clenched his fists, setting his jaw. “I’m all for them being motivated, but this is something else.”
That night was tense. You attempted to join your classmates for dinner, but the energy shifted. As you walked into the common area, the atmosphere thickened; their chatter fell to whispers, and eyes darted toward you as if you were an object of desire rather than a friend.
“Momo, what’s wrong?” you asked, the smile fading from your face at their strange behaviour.
“Oh, nothing! Just… making sure that everything is fine.” Her voice held an edge that gave you pause.
“What do you mean?” A vague sense of discomfort prickled your skin.
The tension escalated when Bakugo snapped, his irritation boiling over. “You all need to back off! Y/n isn’t some trophy! They’re our friend!”
The response was immediate—shocked silence followed by murmurs as your classmates turned to Bakugo, glaring penetrating the otherwise friendly atmosphere. Frustration painted their faces, revealing their possessive natures. You glanced between them, heart racing as the realization of their jealousy settled in.
Hawks stood outside the door, the heavy weight of a sibling’s protectiveness washing over him. He realized there was no need for subtlety anymore; he had to step in before your classmates turned into a frenzied mob. He knew he could control the situation without escalating it into madness but felt the primal need rise for your safety.
“Hey!” he called, pushing the door open with an air of authority, his usual confidence on full display. “We need to talk.”
All eyes turned toward him, expressions shifting from surprise to something darker. You could sense a mix of admiration and resentment swirling in the air as your classmates regarded Hawks—some awed by his presence, others glaring at him as if he was a threat to what they all believed should be theirs.
“Can I talk to my sibling alone?” he said, his eyes scanning the room intensely.
“But—” Momo started, her voice trembling with disbelief.
“No,” he interrupted, his gaze sharp, his tone brokering no arguments. “Now. Please.”
Reluctantly, your classmates dispersed, leaving you alone with Hawks. The tension melted away, and he took a deep breath, his brotherly instincts taking charge.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern flooding his eyes.
You crossed your arms, trying to dismiss his worries. “I’m fine. They’re just a little intense. It’s probably just excitement.”
“Excitement doesn’t come with possessive glares and jealousy,” he replied, frustration rippling through him. “They don’t see you for you. They see an opportunity to gain favour, and the moment you don’t meet their expectations…”
“When did you start sounding like Aizawa?” You countered, half-laughing.
“I’m serious! I don’t want you caught in the middle of whatever twisted competition this is!” Hawks stressed, the worry in his voice deepening. “Look, I want you to have friends, but I don’t want you to be a prize in some sick game.”
You stepped closer, meeting his intense gaze. “I know, Hawks. But it’s just how it is in the U.A.; everyone is passionate about their goals. They get a little... dramatic.”
“Dramatic?!” Hawks exclaimed, running a hand through his feathers in frustration, the sense of urgency coursing through him. “You’re my sibling, and I’d tear down the walls of this school if I have to!”
“Wait! No!” you begged, trying to stifle a laugh at the visual. “You’re not tearing down, U.A.! You love this school, and it’s my dream!”
“And that dream is at risk of turning into a nightmare if those kids don’t learn to back off!” he reiterated, his voice low and serious. “You deserve friends who respect you, who encourage you, not ones who treat you like property.”
As the weight of his words settled between you, realization dawned. It wasn’t just concern—it was a fierce determination, the inherent need to protect someone he cherished above all else. With Hawks around, you would always have a guardian.
Smiling softly, you placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “I’ll be okay, Hawks. I promise I’ll handle it. But remember—I’m still my own person, and I want to make my own friends.”
His tension ebbed slightly, and he exhaled, eyes softening as they met yours. “Just… promise me you’ll let me know if it gets too much?”
“Promise,” you replied sincerely. “And I’ll remind the others too—if they get out of hand, you’ll be the first I come to.”
“Good.” He took a breath, the weight of responsibility lifting slightly as he relaxed. “I feel a little better knowing you’re able to stand up for yourself.”
"Thanks, Hawks, I knew you could trust me enough." As you said that with a smile, Hawks couldn't help but smile too, but this wasn't a warm smile he always put on, Hawks pulled you into a hug and you right hug him back for a breath moment.
"I know, kid, but... I think it's best that you stay with me." You stop and look at Hawks, and you were about to question him before he grips you tight, you tried to pull away from his grip, but Hawks is not budging, you started to loss your vision.
You pass out in Hawks arms as Hawks looks at you and gently carries you off. Bring you back home where you are safe and sound under his wings, his precious little sibling.
"It's time for your big brother to take you home, where you are safe and sound as my baby bird."
