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5 years ago

Date Night: Part Three (Yandere ErasermicxReader)

Request: I just wanted to say that I love you Date Night Fics a lot! Will there be a part 3 of it? 😊😆😆❤️

Part One Part Two

Night was falling quickly that evening, and most houses were blended easily into the darkness, their occupants out for a Valentine’s Day celebration. One house though, isolated and outside of the city proper, was alive with light and sound. Inside, two men worked diligently in the kitchen, the whole home filling with the tempting aroma of the dishes they were making.

“Alright,” said Aizawa, “the chocolate-covered strawberries are in the freezer. What can I help you with?”

“Well, the lamb still needs a little bit longer in the oven, you want to start putting the broccoli and rice into the dishes?” Hizashi answered as he peered into the oven.

“Sure thing. Do you know if she’s left work yet?”

“Um, let me check,” Hizashi said, scrolling through his phone for the answer. “The tracker says she’s still at work, but she’s probably going to leave soon. And when she does, we’ll only have like twenty-five minutes before she gets home.”

“We can make it,” Aizawa said with a determined nod.

The next few minutes were pleasantly quiet as the sound of clattering dishes resounded throughout the kitchen, Aizawa moving the steaming sides to their bowls and covering them to ensure that they would still be warm by the time you came back home. He set them down gently on his and Hizashi’s round dining room table, being certain to make sure that they weren’t blocking the vase of pink magnolias and crimson roses that he and his boyfriend had so carefully chosen. The roses had been Aizawa’s idea, as he wanted a flower that would properly set the mood for this holiday dinner, and he found their deep, vibrant color a fitting representation of his feelings. Hizashi, by contrast, had chosen the magnolias, wanting to add something utterly unique and beautiful to match you. And together, he and Aizawa thought, the effect was breathtaking.

When Aizawa reentered the kitchen, he saw Hizashi with his face practically pressed flat against the oven door. Smiling in amusement, Aizawa silently slunk up behind him, then suddenly darting forward to place a kiss on Hizashi’s neck. The blond jumped slightly at the unexpected touch, having been concentrating too hard to even hear his boyfriend’s approach, but soon melted in his arms.

“You know,” Aizawa chuckled, “it’s not going to cook any faster if you stare at it.”

“I know that. I just don’t want it to dry out, so I’m keeping an eye on it.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be perfect,” Aizawa reassured him. At that, Hizashi turned to him, his eyes wide and anxious.

“But what if it’s not?” Hizashi asked nervously. “What if we’ve done something wrong? What if she says no?” At the mere mention of that possibility, Aizawa’s stomach clenched and then spiraled downward, all the way down and past the kitchen floor. And even though Hizashi had already had the thought, actually saying it out loud had fishhooks piercing his heart and dragging it up to his throat. Seeing each other like that had both men squeezing the other tightly, just breathing for a moment until Aizawa finally spoke.

“That’s not going to happen. We saved her. We’ve taken care of her for weeks now, protected her from Dabi and anyone else who would try to hurt her. We’ve shown her the love she really deserves. She can’t say no.”

Hizashi sighed and gave a nervous grin.

“You’re right, you’re always right, babe,” he said with a shaky nod. “I mean, really she’s already our sweetheart. We’re just making it official tonight.”

It was true, both men thought to themselves. You were already theirs, they just needed to tell you that. So later that night, when the three of were finally sitting down to dinner, Aizawa and Hizashi forgot their worries in their lovesick excitement.

“So how was work today?” Aizawa asked as he scooped some more rice onto your plate.

“Oh, it was fine, just average,” you said with a tired smile.

“I still can’t believe that they made you work on Valentine’s Day,” Hizashi muttered.

“Well,” you laughed, “it’s not exactly a national holiday. And it’s not like I have a Valentine anyway.” At that, Aizawa flashed a stern look at his lover, warning him not to correct you just yet.

“You haven’t seen any sign of Dabi, have you?” Aizawa asked, noting the way your eyes dimmed at your question. Now, he understood that everything that had happened was traumatic for you, but really, you should be glad that they had gotten that villain out of your life for you.

“No, thankfully not,” you answered. “I don’t know if he actually cares enough about me to risk it.”

“Well,” Aizawa said, “I’m glad he’s not mixing you up in his shit. You deserve so much better than that.” Hizashi nodded in agreement, and your cheeks heated at their concern. Really, these past few weeks had been so emotionally exhausting, you didn’t think you could have gotten through it without the two of them. They had opened up their home to you, had made you feel safe. They practically doted on you, providing everything that you could ever possibly want or need. And now—now they were even letting you intrude on their Valentine’s Day date. You hadn’t wanted to force yourself into their celebration, but they had insisted. In all honesty, Aizawa and Hizashi were probably the best friends you ever had.

“Speaking of that though, I was thinking it’s about time for me to go home.”

For a moment, Hizashi and Aizawa could only stare at you with disbelieving eyes.

“What?” Hizashi finally responded with pure shock. “Why?”

“It’s just that, well, it’s been weeks now. I haven’t seen the slightest sign of Dabi, and neither have either of you. I don’t think he’s going to try to contact me. And anyway, I feel bad about intruding into your home.”

“You are not intruding!” Hizashi insisted as Aizawa took his hand.

“Besides,” Aizawa added. “Dabi might just be waiting for you to leave.”

“But—”

“And we’d miss you!” Hizashi shouted over you.

“I’d miss you guys too, but it’s not like we can’t see each other,” you reasoned. “We’d still be friends, right?”

When you said that word—friend—Aizawa and Hizashi simultaneously squeezed each other’s hands tightly enough to make them go numb. Flashing a quick look towards each other, they made a silent lovers’ agreement.

“But that’s the thing, sweetheart,” Aizawa started to say. “We don’t want to be your friends.”

“What?”

“We don’t want to be your friends,” Hizashi continued. “We want to be more than that with you. We love you.”

Now it was your turn to be silent as their confession looped around and around in your mind. But with the two of them gazing at you so hopefully, it wasn’t long before you forced yourself to speak.

“I—I’m sorry,” you began softly. “But I just can’t feel that way about anybody right now. What happened with Dabi, it—it really got to me, you saw how much it hurt me.”

“We would never hurt you though,” Aizawa told you.

“But I’m just not ready to be that vulnerable yet.”

“Sure you are,” Aizawa said. “You have two men here who love you, who love you more than anyone else ever has. That’s all you need to be ready.”

“I decide when I’m ready.”

“Songbird, you’re just confused,” Hizashi said as Aizawa quietly slipped into the kitchen. “We know that this is a lot to take in, but taking this next step together is what’s right for all of us. We need to love you, and you need to let us.”

“You’re not—”

“Shouta and I can take care of you, we want to take care of you! You’ll never have to worry about anything again with us: not work, not bills, not villains, not anything! You would finally have the love that you deserve.”

“I already said no,” you told as you began to stand from your chair. “I’m not going to say it again.”

“And where are you going?” Aizawa suddenly asked from the dining room doorway.

“I’m going to go back to my apartment and give you two a chance to cool down. Neither of you is making any sense.”

“Really? Because you’re the one rejecting your soulmates.”

“The two of you are not my soulmates.”

“Of course we are,” Hizashi argued, tears beginning to fill his eyes at your stubbornness. When Aizawa spotted his boyfriend’s tears he frowned, extracting a syringe from his pocket and started to move towards you slowly and cautiously, the way one might with a spooked animal. As soon as you saw what he held in his hand, you tried to run for the door, only for Hizashi to immediately capture you in his arms. You writhed in his grip while Aizawa continued to approach you, and Hizashi nuzzled you comfortingly.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Aizawa reassured you. “You’re just tired, you’re exhausted from work so you aren’t in your right mind.”

“I told you that job was bad for you,” Hizashi grumbled into your neck.

“Let me go!” you yelled. “Let me go or I swear—”

“Ah, ah, songbird,” Hizashi lectured you as he held his hand over your mouth. “That’s no way to treat your lovers.”

“Exactly,” Aizawa agreed. “So you’re going to have a little rest, and then hopefully in the morning you’ll realize just how foolishly you’ve been acting.”

With that, Aizawa plunged the needle into your skin, both he and Hizashi ignoring your muffled pleas. The effects didn’t hit immediately, but soon enough you were melting into your captors’ arms, their touch the last thing you felt.

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It Is Saturday

So I did it.

I succumbed to that shidge writing itch that you guys threw poison ivy on because this is something we all want and need apparently

Original post

The hardest thing that Takashi Shirogane had to do was get out of bed.

Not to say that he was sinking into depression and couldn’t arise, no, it was the exact opposite. His bed, their bed, was one of the safest and most comforting places he’d ever known, thanks most in part to his tiny female partner, and it was a daily struggle to convince himself to depart from it. He and Pidge had owned their cozy apartment nearing a year now, and the slab of mattress and tangled sheets that they rested on had become the most intoxicating setting in his home. There were days were they opted to stay in place for hours, only leaving to make food or bathroom runs and returning to collapse in the other’s arms and the sea of blankets. It was hard to leave because she was there, because they had comforted each other from the memories of the war there, because every good day, shit day, and night of love always ended in each other’s arms, on the bed.

But some days were harder than the rest.

The setting was always the same, posing the exact challenge it had for a while now; dark grey sheets that lay crinkled up between them, olive comforter sprawled around the two in uneven heaps of worn fabric. Her sleeping form was bundled up next to him, clinging at the arms that encircled her torso, head turned to the one that used it as a pillow. The rest of the bed seemed freezing in comparison to her, though with the pair’s legs tangled together and huddled figures smashed together, her presence chased off any remaining cold of the perimeter around him. Blinding sunlight poured from the gaps in the blinds, sloshing golden light inside the room in bouncing parallel strips.

Blinking into the realm of reality, Shiro instinctively tightened his grip on the woman in his arms, burying his nose in her curled, unruly hair with slow, fatigued movements. The sleeping Pidge made not a move besides the rising and falling of her sides, comfortably conforming to the ‘big spoon’ behind her. His senses were then filled with bright brown hair, blinding sunlight, and the scent of vanilla and burnt carbon as he was once again tempted by the thought of staying where he was for the remainder of the day.

Sighing, he blew her caramel curls away from his mouth, fingers knotting at his t-shirt that draped over her lithe frame. ‘Is showing up at a Garrison meeting really worth getting up from this? What day even is it?’

After a minute or two of contemplation, Shiro groaned and shifted away from the woman he loved, lifting the covers and throwing his legs over the bedframe, running a hand through his white-stained forelock. His muscles stung, the ache the familiar, momentary one that only existed because he had moved. Though the apartment’s heater tried its best, he shivered-everything was like ice compared to her. With a final shake, he made a move to heave himself up-

-until dull nails tickled one of the scars on his back.

As soon as his head spun, he met the soft, squinted gaze of Pidge’s honey eyes. Her arm extended out to him, hand blindly groping at any clutchable surface that he retained, eventually finding his prosthetic and then latching onto the metallic limb. She peeled her lips apart, blinking tiredly; her dreams must’ve been somewhat peaceful, then, as she wasn’t automatically running at full speed.

“..ome back to bed,” She offered, eyebrows kneading together and gentle smile painting itself on her soft, freckled features. She squeezed the bridge between his neck and shoulder, her other hand finding the parallel spot within a matter of seconds. The plea scratched at his resolve, itching and tugging at his head because damn just staying home today sounded really good.

He exhaled a quiet, desperate laugh and leaned over, pecking her nose. “I have to go.”

“..iot.”

“Hmm?”

Her freckled arms flung out and grabbed his shoulders, yanking him down over her lanky form and forcing him to catch himself out of instinct, the pair close enough to where their noses brushed together. Tangled hair guarded the tops of her half-lidded eyes, bottom lip jutting out and completing her pouty appearance. Pidge maneuvered her hands to press against the sides of his face, shaking it gently with every word.

“It. Is. Saturday.”

“Oh.”

Shiro’s elbows gave way, the fatigued super-soldier of a man succumbing to her earlier plea and falling onto the lanky, warm form of his partner, forcing his arms around her through the mass of sheets and digging his nose against her neck. She laughed softly, the sound tickling his chest as the past Green Paladin roamed Shiro's shoulders, the two now glued together by method of awkward cuddling. The cold was now longer felt, and the soft heartbeat in the chest under his own was loud enough to become a lullaby and lure him back to the realm of sleep, clinging onto the woman beneath him all the while.