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I love discourse on Christmas š¤
#marvel#arcane#mel medarda#viktor arcane#jayce talis#arcane jayce#challengers#movies#video games#black love#yall donāt want to hear me you just wanna dance#hard truth#get it together
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one two three four
katsuki bakugo x Gn!reader
One week later
T-Minus three weeks until the dance
ā------------
Ā āGood Morning!āĀ
For so early in the morning, the rat principal was very cheerful. The same couldnāt be said for his human climbing tree. Mr. Aizawa stood slouched, eyes dark and face heavy with lack of sleep. Nezu sat snuggly in the binding cloths on the tired manās shoulder. Mitsuki had only spoken to the principal on a handful of occasions, and she always thought he was veryā¦unique. But he was damn good at his job, and he really cared about his students. That's why Mitsuki had such a good feeling about the request she was about to make, despite it being such a large one.Ā
āāMorning. Thanks for meeting with me, I know your schedules are probably packed with everything going on around here.ā
Nezu smiled cheerfully at the woman, waving a paw in dismissal. āNonsense! Iām always happy to meet with a parent, especially you, Mrs. Bakugo. Young Bakugo is an amazing student and has done a lot for the country. We owe him a lot. Now, letās get into the conference room. From the summary of your reason for meeting that you gave me, I figured it would be best that the rest of the faculty joined us as well.ā
The three walked into the conference room, with Mitsuki taking a seat at the head of the table. Around the table sat the UA teachers, Hounddog, and Hawks. While initially shocked by his presence, she realized that it made sense. In her email to Nezu, she mentioned that the subject of the meeting had to do with bending an international rule, and Hawks had a lot of contact with other countries as the new head of the Hero Commission.Ā She was grateful he was here, as she knew he had a particular soft spot for Katsuki. If she remembered correctly, he called him āA little asshole with a lot of spunkā. She thought it was a fair statement.
After exchanging greetings and pleasantries, and accepting a cup of tea from Present Mic, she began the meeting.
āThank you all for being here. I recognize that you all are busy so Iām gonna try and make this quick,ā Mitsuki sat up straighter, folding her hands together as she looked around the table. āA couple of years ago, Katsuki met another hero student at the I-Expo. They stayed in contact for a while, got really close, and eventually started dating. They care for each other, a lot. They talk every night and are a huge pillar of support for one another. So much so that,āĀ
Mitsuki found herself getting choked up. She always did when she thought about the possibility that she would have to deliver that letter to you. She cleared her throat, taking a breath. She hated crying, especially in front of people. After a moment, she continued.
āRight before the war, Katsuki gave me a box to send them in case something happened to him. He truly cares about them. On that note, as you all know, the Spring Dance is coming up. Despite what most people think, Katsuki actually enjoys dressing up. I thought he would be excited about the dance, but he wasnāt. In fact, heās dreading it. All his friends have been talking about are their dates, and Katsuki refuses to take anyone but them. Now, for my request. Katsuki died for this country. This is his last chance for some fun before graduating and becoming a real pro. So please,ā she bowed deeply as she spoke. Mitsuki had a lot of pride and was known for rarely ever apologizing or bowing to anyone. But Katsuki deserved to be happy. She just wanted her kid to be okay.
āPlease allow them to attend as Katsukiās date. I can give you records, letters of recommendation, and even character statements. They are a great kid and an even better student. They would cause no trouble. I just want Katsuki to be happy.ā
The room was silent as all of the staff looked at Mitsuki. They then looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. Finally, Hawks broke the silence. āTo be honest with you, Mrs. Bakugo, this is a complicated situation. Other countries still donāt have a particularly great view of Japan. Trying to convince them that they should allow a pardon, just for a school dance? Realistically, itās damn near impossible,ā Mitsuki felt her heart sink, a disappointed sigh leaving her. Well, at least no one could say she didnāt tr-Ā
āHowever, you make a very compelling point. Young Bakugo saved not only Japan but the rest of the world. He is, without a doubt, a hero. I make you no promises on what the rest of the commission or international board might say, but I can promise that I will advocate for Bakugou and get you an answer before the end of the week.āĀ
Mitsuki broke out into a rare, wide, sincere grin. She bowed once more to the room, bending deeply.
āThank you all.ā
āāāā
It was about 15 minutes before your usual morning talk with Katsuki when you got the call. Before the war, Katsuki gave you his parents' contact info in case of an emergency. You had only spoken to them on a handful of occasions, wishing them a happy birthday or anniversary, shouting āHello!ā when you were on the phone and Katsuki was at home. But you had never really spoken to them one-on-one until Mitsuki called you.
You answered without hesitation, disregarding your normal early morning TikTok scroll. Something had to be wrong for her to call you, you figured. Your voice was frantic when you answered. āHello? Is everything alright Mrs. Bakugou? Is Katsu-ā
āChillax kid! Jeez!āĀ
You blinked, confused at her tone. Okay, so clearly there wasnāt an emergency.Ā
āIām sorry, I thought something was wrong. Youāve never called before-āĀ
āSorry, I should make more of a habit of calling my future daughter in lawāĀ
You chose to ignore her comment. āSo..if thereās no emergency, not to be rude, why are you calling?ā You could picture her shit-eating grin in your head, knowing it was where Katsuki had gotten it from.Ā
āWellā¦I spoke to Hawks, you know the head of the hero commission here in Japan, he spoke with your government and pulled some stringsā¦how would you like to be Katsukiās date to the Spring dance?ā
āāāā
Iām having trouble tagging some of yall š. Anyways sorry this is so late, uni has been beating me into the floor š
Taglist: : @sleepyeri @teeesthings @zaiban2989 @kathsuhki @rinbeeyum @oladelmars @luv-for-fictional-characters @attackonnat @ratcity12345 @bffrs-stuff @ch3rryjampi3 @venus1224idkpleaze @fiannee @consentismfhot @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @bl-og134 @amayaaaxx @mikestuffffs @mushroomsoup119 @thatprettybunny @wheezdostuff @devils-adversary @enony-da @matchat3a @kawliflo @urmomsbananabread @anicaaa67 @that-sweet-mars @crimsonrubie @xanneeeyyyy @sweetloveandaffection-blog @ghostreadersthings @itsdragonius @snore-3 @sleepyk0dyz @ririoutspoken @ivuriexo @getosuckers
#mha#mha fic#boko no hero academia#bakugo x black reader#bnha x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#mha headcanons#mha bakugou#bakugo katuski#bakugo katsuki#bakugou katsuki#katsuki x reader#katsuki x y/n#bakugou x reader#my hero academia fic#bakugo x y/n#katsuki bakugo fluff#mha katsuki bakugo#can i have this dance#my hero academia fanfic#my hero acedamia#my hero academia#my hero x reader#mha fanfiction#mha fanfic#mha x gn!reader#katsuki bakugo
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mha // fic recommendations
note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works
bakugou katsuki
defiant say it with your hands darling it's better (down where it's wetter) statistically significant how to set fires mr. fixer upper the red of fate meets the blue of twitter verification
shoto todoroki
if i could keep cool break the glass (in case of emergency) something new strawberry scented dreams flare loads of fun mr. tokyo beat hottest hero
dabi / touya todoroki
not a proposal an arsonist's lullaby running errands i'm melting in your eyes, like the first time that i caught fire (just stay with me, lay with me now) it's conditional laundromat
hawks / takami keigo
lay low take it slow birb puns crawl home to me paper cranes little bird no need
eijiro kirishima
the marionettist would you like me to stay forever revenge paws for panic red crush culture in one kiss, you'll know all i haven't said
denki kaminari
body electric streams truth or dare seven minutes of humor in your arms why are you so pretty?
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Reblog this picture of me holding a Family Size box of Honey Nut Cheerios? Iād really appreciate it.
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one two three four
katsuki bakugo x Gn!reader
āWhat's up your ass?ā
Mitsuki asked her son as she tailored his suit. It was the weekend, which meant he was at home. While he was there his mother insisted on fitting him for his suit, despite the dance being a month away. āNothing hag, stay out of my damn-ā Katsuki didnāt even finish his sentence before his mom smacked him in the back of his head. āWHO YOU CALLIN HAG? THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?ā Katsukiās palmās sparked in anger but before he could retaliate, his father chimed in from the desk in the corner of his parentsā work room. āKatsuki, we can tell when somethingās wrong. What is it, son?ā His dadās eyes were soft, and Katsuki (reluctantly) backed down. He always had a soft spot for his dad. āNothing- I just think this dance is fucking pointless.ā
Mitsuki tilted her head in confusion as she fiddled with Katsukiās pant leg. āWhy? You fuckin love dressing up, as much as you pretend not to. You are our son after all.ā and that was true, being the son of two of Japanās most popular designers did make Katsuki have a passion for fashion. While he did prefer street wear, he appreciated a good suit every once in a while.
āCuz y/n wonāt be here to be my date and I aināt taking no one else. Plus, even if I wanted to, half the class is paired up already. Better off not even fuckin goingā
it was rare to see Katsuki pout, but this was one of the rare times he would do so. He always pouted when he thought about how far away from him you were. If he thought about how much he missed you for too long, he would try to busy himself with something else. It made him pretty productive, actually. Your face popping up on his mind a bit too much? He does his homework early to distract himself. When his heart is calling for you? He heads to the gym and blasts music in his ears to drown out the wistful thinking. But he couldnāt do that right now. All he can do now is stand here and wish for your presence.
Katsuki had told his parents about you right before the war. Actually, if he had died during the battle, he made them swear that they would give you his favorite skull tshirt and a letter he wrote. Luckily though, while it was a close call, that never had to happen. But since then, youāve talked to his parents a few times. His mom, to your surprise, was especially fond of you and would always ask Katsuki about you when they saw him. It didnāt bother him though, he would take any excuse to talk and brag about his person.
āItās a shame y/n wonāt be able to be there, but you shouldnāt throw away the whole dance because of it. Plus Iām sure it would break their heart if they found out you werenāt going because of them.ā Masaru told his son softly, only earning a shrug in response. Katsuki knew his father was right, but he was still disappointed. Mitsuki stood up and ruffled Katsukiās hair, which earned her a glare that she completely ignored. āHave fun at the dance, brat. That way, you can tell y/n all about it when itās over.ā
āāā
After Katsuki had gone back to the dorms, Misaru and Mitsuki sat together on the couch. Misaru held his wife close, playing with her blonde, spikey hair as Drag Race played on the television. While her husband was locked into the show, Mistuki couldnāt focus. In fact, her mind was completely elsewhere. She couldnāt help the way her heart ached for her son. As often as they butt heads and argued, he was her only child and her baby. He had been through so much in the past three years, and she only wanted the best for him. She was always so supportive of his hopes and dreams, and only wanted him to be happy. He deserved it. It pissed her off that even during a time for celebration and happiness, her son would still be upset because he couldnāt bring the person he cared for most.
As the commercials rolled, Mitsaru looked down at his wife, and pressed a soft kiss to her head. āWhatās wrong?ā He asked her, earning a grumble in response as she looked up at him. āMājust thinkin bout Katsukiā¦ it aināt fair that heās put his entire fuvking life on the line to save the damn country, hell the world even, but he canāt have this one thing. I justā¦ā she sighed heavily, yet Misaru understood. He reflected her feelings as well. He wanted Katsuki to be happy with his friends at this party. Gears in his head began to turn, as between him and his wife, he was the problem solver. He used logic and empathy to solve issues, as Mitsuki usually charged in head first.
After a moment though, a light bulb went off in his head. āMitsukiā¦have we asked if she canāt come? I mean, Iām sure Principal Nezu would understand. All Might as well, heās fond of Katsuki and has a lot of connections. We should see if anything can be done!ā
Mitsuki was silent for a bit as she thought about the suggestion, and eventually sat up and turned to Misaru. She beamed brightly, pressing a kiss to his lips. āI knew I married you for a reason. I can send Nezu an email and set up the meetingā¦but letās keep this from the brat for now, I donāt wanna get his hopes up.ā
āāā
A/N: a little shorter but next chapter is pretty long! FYI, in the back of my mind, reader is the same reader from my endeavorās secret daughter one shot. But thatās just me!! Itās not required to read that to enjoy this, itās just a fun little tid bit. Iām gonna try and finish this mini series within a week because I have to move into my dorm in a couple weeks. Lmk if you want to be tagged going forward!
āāā
Tag List: @sleepyeri @teeesthings @zaiban2989 @kathsuhki @rinbeeyum @oladelmars @getosuckers @luv-for-fictional-characters @attackonnat @ratcity12345 @bffrs-stuff @ch3rryjampi3 @venus1224idkpleaze @fiannee @consentismfhot @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @bl-og134
#mha#mha fic#boko no hero academia#bakugo x black reader#bnha x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#mha headcanons#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#mha bakugou#bakugo katuski#bakugo katsuki#bakugou katsuki#katsuki x reader#katsuki x y/n#bakugou x reader#my hero academia fic#bakugo x y/n#katsuki bakugo fluff#mha katsuki bakugo#can i have this dance#my hero academia fanfic#my hero acedamia#my hero academia#my hero x reader#mha fanfiction#mha fanfic#mha x gn!reader#katsuki bakugo
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can i have this dance? k. bakugo x gn!reader
one two three
āMmm I like the black jacket moreā
Katsuki hums softly at your answer as he holds the suit jacket up to his chest. He scoffs, tossing it haphazardly on the bed before flopping down on top of it. He held his phone above his face at arm's length, staring at your face through the screen as you ate your cereal. āThis is fucking stupidā he complains softly and you giggle as he moans and groans, chewing your breakfast.
āItās not stupid Kats, itās a dance! And technically, it's your first high school dance. If you ask me itās long overdue.ā
That part was true. It was the first formal UA has hosted in the past three years. Usually, there was a dance twice a year: one during the Christmas festival and the other during the spring semester. It was exclusive to students and staff as everyone dressed to the nines and had a good time celebrating the holiday season and the loveliness of spring. Katsuki grew up hearing about it, and sort of looked forward to them. But due to the League and AFO, class 3-A never got to experience one. Until now.
Japan was slowly returning to normal after the events of the war a year prior, and to celebrate the students after all of their hard work and sacrifices, Nezu had finally cleared the spring formal to take place just a few months before graduation. When the class got the news, they were thrilled and even Katsuki had to admit that he was the tiniest bit excited. That was until Mina mentioned that they were all gonna have to find dates- then his balloon popped. He only wanted one person to be his date at any event, and that was you. Unfortunately, you were halfway across the world. This is why as you sat at your breakfast nook munching on Frosted Flakes, Bakugo laid on his comforter in his pajamas in preparation for bed. You called each other almost every day and when one of the first things he told you was the news about the dance, you begged to see his suit options. Thatās what led you here, keeping him up two hours past his bedtime as he gave you a little fashion show. But he didnāt mind. He would explode the planet to make you smile, and he valued your opinion. He just wished you were there to give it in person.
āYeah I guess,ā he huffed and sat up, putting his suit back in his closet, turning off his ceiling light, and getting beneath his comforter. āI just donāt see the fucking point in going.ā You raised an eyebrow at him and frowned. You knew he was excited, you could tell because of how fast he told you the news when you called. But now he seemed disappointed. āWhy not?ā You pried softly, trying to get to the root of the problem as he pouted. His room was dark, so you couldnāt see his entire face, but you could hear in the way he spoke that his bottom lip was slightly jutted out in disappointment. āRaccoon eyes was talking about everyone getting dates and shitā¦and you arenāt here.ā
Your heart broke a little and your eyes stung a bit. He wasnāt upset that he had to go to the dance..he was upset that you wouldnāt be there to accompany him. āOh babyā¦Iām so sorryā you whispered. All he did was shrug and grumble to himself, which is what he did when he didnāt want to outright tell you he was sad. āYou know I would love to be your date Katsukiā¦I wouldnāt want to be anything more. But I canāt..we both know that.ā
While Japan was making leaps and bounds in its recovery, its reputation in the eyes of other countries was still extremely damaged. After the death of Star and Stripe, all travel to Japan was halted indefinitely in your country. Not to mention, due to the aftermath of Americaās number oneās death, as a hero student, you had to fight against the villains that tried to take advantage of the gap she left behind. Between the travel ban and your responsibilities, not to mention general travel costs, there was no possible chance you would be able to accompany Katsuki.
āYeah, I knowā¦just wish I could dance with you, thatās all. Wanna see you all dressed up and shit.ā
All you could do was smile sadly at the camera and muster as much hope as you could for the both of you. āMaybe one dayā¦especially since weāre both graduating soon.ā
It was silent for a moment, both of you sitting in your own disappointment. You glanced at the clock, seeing the time and knowing that it was way past the time Katsuki usually slept, so he must be exhausted. But before you let him go, you just had to ask.
"Kats...can you even dance?"
His face filled the screen, eyebrows pulled together in offense. "HUH? What the fuck are you talking about?" You couldn't help but smile at him, and the heaviness of the prior conversation lifted off both of your shoulders. "I'm just asking!" " Of course I can dance! The fuck do you take me for??" "Okay prove it!"
Before he could respond, Katsuki yawned and you took that as your cue. You gave him a warm smile, depsite the fact that he was still glaring at you. " You can show me your moves tommorrow-" " m'not showing you shit-' "Tomorrow! I want to see what you got! Now go to bed, I'll text you later. Love you!"
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. But seeing how goofy and happy you were made him smile slightly. " Love you too. Talk later."
#mha#mha fic#boko no hero academia#bakugo x black reader#bnha x reader#mha headcanons#katsuki bakugo mha#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader angst#bakugo katuski#bakugou x reader#mha bakugou#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x you#bakugou fluff#bakugo katsuki#my hero academia#katsuki bakugo#katsuki x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x black reader#my hero academia fanfic#my hero academia x reader#mha x black reader#katsuki bakugo fluff#mha x reader long distance#bakugou x reader long distance#katsuki x y/n
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Welcome!!
Thanks for stopping by my page! I focus on mostly MHA fanfic content so if you're a fan of that, you're in the right place! Asks are open right now, but please check my list of rules before submitting a request. Welcome to my shit show :)
āæ.ļ½”.:* ā::. Masterlist .::.ā*.:ļ½”.āæ āæ.ļ½”.:* ā::. About me .::.ā*.:ļ½”.āæ āæ.ļ½”.:* ā::. Rules .::.ā*.:ļ½”.āæ āæ.ļ½”.:* ā::. Ask box .::.ā*.:ļ½”.āæ
#mha fic#mha#boko no hero academia#bnha x reader#mha headcanons#katsuki bakugo mha#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo x black reader#my hero academia fic#masterlist#masterpost#blog intro#pinned intro#pinned post
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Rules
these are subject to change but for now, here are the requirements for submitting a request. please read through this before going into the yapping corner!
1: no racist, homophobic, or fatphobic asks. I tolerate none of it
2: no requests involving self-harm, as I donāt feel comfortable writing that yet. I donāt think Iāll be able to do it justice just yet but this is subject to change
3:no requests involving ED as that is a very sensitive subject for me
4: please be patient! I have ADHD as well as classes, and I move pretty slowly when writing. But I promise that the final product is worth it!
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About Me
Hi! My name is Zoe and I am the owner of this blog! Iām black, bisexual, 19, and a current journalism major with a minor in studio art. Iām in a lot of different fandoms with my favorites being My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Fairy Tail, and Twilight (I can't escape). I also love musical theater and music in general. A lot of my writing is often inspired by the music I listen to. I mainly listen to RnB, hip hop, and pop with my favorite artists being SZA, Beyonce, Megan Thee Stallion, Chappell Roan, and Victoria Monet.Ā
Iāve been writing since I was four, and Iāve been writing fanfiction since I was 13. My first fic was a Marvel book of one-shots on Wattpad (which are long dead and buried and never to be seen again). Since then, Iāve been working on my skills and my craft, hoping to improve my writing and capture the hundreds of little ideas dancing in my head. I hope you all enjoy reading my writing as much as Iāve enjoyed writing it!
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Masterlist
My Hero Academia
āæ.ļ½”.:* ā::. Bakugou K. .::.ā*.:ļ½”.āæ
Multi Parts
chamomile confessions
one two three
can i have this dance
one two three four
One shots
two hearts, a thousand miles
my weakness
stuck
Blurbs
we become we
childhood sweethearts / prince!bakugo
catch!
Headcanons
#mha fic#mha#boko no hero academia#bakugo x black reader#bnha x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#mha headcanons#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#my hero academia fic#my hero academia#my hero academy fanfiction#my hero acadamy#my hero acedamia#boku no hero academia#boku no hero fanfic#masterlist#mha x reader#mha x gn!reader#mha x black reader#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha x oc#mha x gender neutral reader#mha x female reader#mha oneshot#mha fanfiction#mha fanfic#mha bakugou
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#fav fic #touya x reader #dabi x reader
The Visitors (Dabi x Reader)
Dabi is in prison and refusing to speak to anyone, even his family. Until you visit him, bringing a surprise bundled in your arms.
Fem Reader. Sex is mentioned but thereās no detailed smut. Divider by @benkeibear
You and Touya were not in love. The two of you just happened to turn to each other occasionally when you were both horny and bored. You were a cook working at the villa for the PLF. He was a villain who showed up sporadically, always seeming to have secrets. But you always went into the kitchen, no matter what hour he showed up, and fixed him something to eat that wouldnāt upset his sensitive stomach. Thatās how it started.Ā
Touya didnāt love you. You didnāt love him. But on the night before the huge attack on the hero school, what everyone was cryptically calling āthe final battleā, you went to his room.Ā
He turned you away at first. He didnāt want to lose focus. But youād stood rooted to the spot in his doorway, your eyes glassy as if you were about to cry.Ā
Even you didnāt know where the emotion came from. He was just a guy you slept with sometimes. But your voice sounded small and fragile when you said, āI just have this feelingā¦ that Iāll never see you again after tonight.ā
Touya looked at you, met your gaze, and asked, āThat would bother you?ā
Maybe he was being sarcastic, but you gave him a genuine answer.Ā
āI donāt want you to die.ā
Heād looked away from you then, but invited you into his room. You spent the night in his bed, being fucked more gently than usual, and he was gone before you woke up the next morning.Ā
During the battle, you only crossed Touyaās mind once. He didnāt think about the many nights spent thrusting into you, or how your naked body seemed to glow in the moonlight that filtered in through his window. No, the one time you entered his rage-addled thoughts, he only saw your teary face in his doorway.Ā
After the fight was over, after the most grievous of Touyaās injuries had been repaired and he was, basically, left in a similar shape to when he originally joined the League of Villains, he was put in prison.Ā
Several different people tried to talk to him, or rather, get him to talk. A parade of therapists, investigators, psychologists, and other professionals were brought in to speak with Touya, but he wouldnāt utter a word. Even when his mom and his siblings came to see him, he sat in the visitation room, a quirk inhibiting collar around his neck and his arms in cuffs, completely silent. He had nothing to say to them or anyone else. He was simply waiting to die.Ā
Sometimes, lying awake in his cold and empty cell at night, his thoughts would turn to you. He would remember your skin soft and warm against his, your body trembling with pleasure beneath him, your hands in his hair.Ā
And then, inevitably, he would remember your face from that final night together, your quiet voice telling him you didnāt want him to die.Ā
He didnāt know why those words seemed to cling to his consciousness, to haunt him like a phantom. The two of you were never even a couple. He didnāt love you, and you didnāt love him.Ā
ā¦ Right?
Many months after his incarceration, after everyone had given up on getting Touya to speak, his youngest brother showed up out of the blue.Ā
āIāve brought someone to see you,ā Shouto told him. āShe contacted me a few days ago. I think youāll want to hear what she has to say.ā
With that, Shouto left the room, and someone else stepped in.Ā
Touyaās eyes widened slightly when he saw that you were his visitor. He never imagined you would come to see him. Visiting someone in this prison wasnāt an easy task. But what surprised him even more than your presence was what you carried in your arms.Ā
A bundle of soft pink blankets that quivered with movement.Ā
āTouya,ā you said, sitting in a chair across a metal table from him, āthey said you havenāt spoken sinceā¦ the battle. But I had to see you. I had to show youā¦ā
Your voice trailed off as you shifted the tiny bundle and gently pulled the blankets back so that Touya could see the infant in your arms.Ā
His eyes shifted to the baby, then quickly away, as if he couldnāt bear to look at her.Ā
āI named her Aoi. She was born two weeks ago,ā you told him, desperate for him to say something, to acknowledge you. After several minutes of silence passed, during which Touya wouldnāt even look up, you sighed and started to stand up.Ā
āIs she mine?ā
The voice startled you. It had been so long since youād heard it last. You lowered yourself back into the chair.Ā
āOf course she is. Just look at her.ā
Touyaās gaze flicked back to your arms, his eyes finally focusing on the child. That deep red hair, just like his when he was a child, those bright blue eyesā¦ there was no denying her. He knew, without question, that this was his daughter.Ā
His immediate, gut reaction was horror. Heād had zero intentions of becoming a father. He didnāt want to perpetuate the cycle of abuse and hatred his father had inflicted on him.Ā
But once the horror subsided, another emotion took its place. Something strange and nebulous, unfamiliar but warm. Heād never felt this emotion before, so he couldnāt attach a name to it.Ā
He looked you in the face, finally, and narrowed his eyes. āDonāt ever bring her here again,ā he said harshly. āThis place is dangerous. A guard was killed last week when someone tried to escape. For fuckās sake, why did they let you bring a baby in here?ā
You blinked, surprised by his reaction. āYour brother pulled some strings, I think. He escorted me in.ā
Touya sighed. āOkay. Well, donāt bring her back unless Shouto is with you.ā
He didnāt know very much about his youngest sibling, but he did know Shouto was strong, and was a hero who would defend a mother and baby with his life.Ā
You smiled with relief. āSo you want to see her again? See me again?ā
Touyaās face stiffened, just then realizing how transparent heād been. He shrugged. āIf you want to visit, thatās up to you. Donāt blame me if she has nightmares later.ā
āDo you want to get a closer look?ā you asked him.Ā
He reflexively pulled against the cuffs holding his arms in place behind his back. He could never hold his daughter, not like this. But you stood up and moved around the table separating you from Touya, bringing Aoi close and holding her up to his face.Ā
If the guards saw this, they would tear you out of the room immediately. Touyaās brother must have been keeping them away. Perhaps he was watching from somewhere, just to be safe. But Touya would never hurt Aoi, not intentionally at least. You believed that very strongly.Ā
A tiny hand reached up from the blankets and touched Touyaās face, causing him to flinch. He looked down at the small, chubby face smiling up at him, and was grateful that she was too young to understand that his face wasnāt normal, too young to be afraid of him.Ā
āTouya,ā you said gently, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment but needing to say this, āthey said if youāll just talk to someone, if youāll do the therapy program, you could be released.ā
He looked up at you sharply. āIs that why you came? To get me to talk?ā
āI came because I donāt want her to grow up without her father. Do you?ā
A brief look of hurt passed over his features, so quick you almost missed it, then he drew back against his chair, out of Aoiās reach. āNo, I donāt want that,ā he said.Ā
You smiled as you stepped away, toward the door. āGood. Then youāll do the therapy program?ā
Touya rolled his eyes. āSure. Not that I think itāll change anything.ā
āThank you, Touya,ā you said. āWeāll come see you again soon.ā
He didnāt say another word, just watched you leave, carrying his daughter. He sat in the empty room for a few minutes, then took a deep breath before yelling, āIf any of you assholes wanna take a crack at my busted brain, come on! Iām all yours!ā
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#oh yeah I need this in my BONES #fav fic #reread
She Washes All of My Wounds For Me | Touya Todoroki
cw/tw: NSFT, fem reader (AFAB anatomy, femme pet names), so so SO much hurt/comfort, a lot of angels/heavenly/sinners/god-like imagery, touya is so desperate to be loved and in so much denial about it, one (1) little teeny weeny mention of Sir kink as a joke, one (1) verbal argument, touya breaks a piece of furniture during said argument but does NOT hurt reader, touya is too stubborn for his own good, drunk touya however is less stubborn, drunk apologies in the rain because i am not immune to cliches, oral and fingering (f! receiving), reader does have a Bush, praise and praise and praise and praise, super duper soft smut with obsessive undertones because of who i am as a person, touya also VERY vocal in bed, happy ending (in more ways than one)
wc: 15,240
a/n: you all thought i forgot about my re-uploads? (i did but shhh) here is one of the most personal fanfics iāve ever written and probably my favorite (so far). enjoy! <3
The first time you call Dabi by his name, he swears he sees a halo floating above your head, glitter cascading down the face heās spent months memorizing and the body he would consider his home if he deemed himself worthy.
He never knew a thing that has brought him so much pain, so much agony, something he thought was forever cursed to be a shameful thing to hide behind skeletons in dusty closets could sound so sweet, so tender, so gentle.
But he supposes every world that falls out of the mouth of an angel is bound to sound heavenly.
His limbs are tangled with yours, his head is pressed against your shoulder in hopes that maybe you can share the burden that lies on his, his heart has been cut out of his chest and locked in yours for safe keeping, and yet he canāt believe you still manage to find ways to rock him down to his very core. Youāre a saint, something so ethereal and otherworldly he never thought his temporal hands would have a chance to touch you, and yet you still choose a sinner over your throne in the clouds.
Itās a miracle, really, his tainted soul hasnāt scared you off yet. Maybe youāre just as stubborn as he is. Maybe you see him as a charity case. Maybe, just maybe, you do love him and all of his broken pieces no matter how much they bite at your skin and dye them the color of mortals. And the fact that you can say his name with so much purityāas if it really is just another typical Friday evening spent together after a week of trying to bring hero society down and not you changing everything he knows about that goddamn nameājust shows how much he doesnāt deserve you.
āWhat did you call me?ā he asks, his face never daring to leave the crook of your neck in fear of you seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, but he canāt hide it from his voice. He knows how he soundsāknows he sounds like a child lost in a world that is far too vast for him to comprehend. Blood rushes in his ears, his hands shake as they grip your hips, blunt fingernails digging into your flesh in a vain attempt to starve off the longing that is filling his bones. Itās consuming himāchewing through calcium and turning it to mere dust between greedy enamel that only knows how to feed on what little affection he receives.
Your fingers lace themselves in his hair, a signal to let him know heās safe, heās okay, thereās no reason to sharpen his tongue and forge his armor around you. His heart is starved of love and youāre more than happy to flood it with so much dedication he fears it may burst out of his chestāworthless bones unable to contain all of the emotions heās tried so hard to keep locked away. āI called you by your name. Is that okay?ā
āI donāt know.ā
And it isnāt because he doesnāt want you to know his name. Heās already announced it to the world. Of course, youāre going to know it. It certainly isnāt because he hates the way your lips so easily form the two syllables. It isnāt because he no longer wants to associate himself with the name.
Heās simply afraid of his greedy soul becoming attached to the way you somehow manage to make something that used to cause his skin to crawl now bring his heart a peace heās never known before he saw your face.
āCan I call you it again?ā
And you sound so uncertain, so scared youāve prodded at bruises you didnāt even know existed, terrified of reopening a wound youāve tried to stitch up before it bled all over your hands, that he canāt help but pull his face away from its safe space and rest his sapphire eyes on yours. Though they shake, he still runs his fingers along your lower lip and tugs so he can look at your teeth and all of the words sitting in them. You look as nervous as he feels. Heāll never tell you that, however, will never let you know how much power a simple word has over himāhow much power you have over him. Heās a murderer with an agenda who has allowed rebellion and anger to corrupt his burning body. He canāt let something as fickle as love distract him from his end goal.
But sometimes, he thinks, it might be okay to allow himself to be loved, especially when you make it seem so simple.
āJust donāt get used to it, sweetcheeks,ā he muses, a mask of ease sliding over his face, and pulls your body closer to his. āThat version of me died long ago.ā
āMaybe we can resurrect him,ā you whisper into his hair, and itās then when he realizes he lost control long ago when it comes to you.
And before he can snap back that he killed it himself, you gently kiss the tips of his fingers with a touch so tender, his lungs forget how to function properly.
Still, he manages to mutter, āSome things are better left dead. No use in trying to bring something back to life that wants to stay dead.ā
āBut what if it never had a chance to live?ā
āThen it makes grieving a lot easier. Less memories. Less things to be sad about.ā
āOr it makes it more of a tragedy.ā And itās so gentle as how you say it, full of such sorrow for a man you never got to meet. The grief in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings until theyāre completely unraveled, put on display for your pure eyes to dissect and analyze, and for once in his life, he isnāt afraid.
Still, only fools allow themselves to be distracted by emotions, and Dabi is anything but a fool. Using his body weight against yours, he easily flips your bodies over so youāre now straddling him, his rough hands ghosting over your soft skin and all of the imperfections he loves so much. His fingers easily find the places that turn you into a whimpering mess above him, and he regains the control he thought he lost long ago.
āCāmon, babe, I had a rough week. Letās not talk about it, yeah? Let me just make you feel good. Doesnāt that sound so nice? Crying from my cock instead of a stupid name?ā Before you can protest, he slips his thumb past your lips and presses it against your tongue, effectively rendering you speechless as you reflexively begin sucking on the digit. āNow thatās a good girl. Letās not worry about something stupid, okay? Now, whatās my name?ā
āSir,ā you moan out around his hand, drool coating his palm in a lewd way that causes all of his blood to rush to his dick.
āThatās the only name I care about.ā
The second time you call Dabi by his name, he remembers why it brings him so much pain.
It was such an odd thing to get angry about. After everything heās done, the stunts heās pulled, the countless times heās burned his body trying to set others ablaze, you choose to get mad over the fact that he had to go radio silent for two weeks to keep you out of the attention of those who want to take him down. Itās nothing new, nothing you havenāt been through before. Hell, heās had to disappear for a month before, and you welcomed him back with open arms.
So why? Why get angry now? Why do your eyes hold such hostility when looking at him? Itās something heās grown accustomed to from strangers, from heroes who claim to fight for the greater good, from family members who forget the past, from colleagues who donāt agree with his extreme ideals. But from you? Such a thing could bring a man to his knees and grovel for forgiveness.
But not Dabi. Never Dabi. Dabi doesnāt bow to anyoneānot even angels with pretty wings and glowing halos.
āWhatās the big fucking deal?ā he scoffs and plants himself in one of your kitchen chairs, an apple in his hand and a neutral expression on his face to hide the pain burning at his guts. āSo what, I had to lay low for a little while? In case that pretty little head of yours forgot: Iām a goddamn villain and you, good samaritan, are not.ā
āThe big fucking deal, Touya,ā you reply through clenched teeth, hands balls in fists and shaking at your sides, āis you just exposed the number one hero in Japan and then disappear for two weeks. I thought you died. I thought they locked you up and threw away the fucking key.ā
The sapphires in his skull alight with a fire you havenāt seen in a while, and he grumbles dangerously low, āDonāt think you can just sling that name around to get a reaction out of me, doll, because you aināt gonna like whatāll happen.ā before taking a bite out of his apple.
Closing the space between your bodies, you smack the cursed fruit out of his hand, demanding his attention be solely on you, your chest pressed against his, noses nearly touching as you bare your fangs down at him in hopes heāll back down. He doesnāt, of course. Instead, he stands right up, towering over you, chair clattering to the floor from the sheer speed of him getting on his feet, his own fangs on display and covered in blood.
āOh? Whatās gonna happen?ā you challenge. āAre you gonna disappear? Make me think youāre dying in a goddamn gutter? Or maybe youāll reveal your identity on live TV for all of Japan to see, expose your family for the abuse and trauma they put you through, also out the number two hero as a fucking murderer, and then randomly not answer any of my calls or texts for two weeks and leave me here to wonder what the absolute fuck is going on? Oh wait, you already did that.ā
When Dabi speaks, itās a voice he barely even recognizes, a voice heās only heard in the back of his head and never dared to speak aloudāunhinged, angry, scared. A voice he never, ever thought would be directed towards you. But youāre so stubborn, so hellbent on babying a man who has been on his own since he was a child. Though, he supposes he has no one to blame but himself. He is, after all, a goddamn villain, and you, good samaritan, are not.
āWhat the fuck else am I supposed to do?ā The voice shakes with a fear heās never wanted to show: a fear of losing youāthe only thing heās ever considered worth keeping. āDo you want Endeavor, my father, to come knocking at your door looking for me? Or maybe you want Hawks sending one of his stupid goddamn feathers in here to eavesdrop on you? Want the entire fucking hero commission here tearing your place apart? Do you want to go to prison because...becauseāā Because I love you.
It hangs in the air between your heaving bodiesāa secret he thought he had kept close to his heart, but, looking into your tear-filled eyes, knows that his heart has always been on his sleeve around you. Thereās no hiding anything from you because youāve spent hours, days, weeks, months listening to all of the whispers trapped inside fragile bones and stringing together memories locked away inside of an unstable mind. You knew him before he even knew himself.
His eyes flit around your face in search of any signs of fleeting, any telltales of abandoning him now that youāve seen all of his ugliness. Because love is such an ugly thing. Love makes people burn their bodies from the inside out just so someone will finally gaze at their flames. Love makes people spend years with the wrong person in hopes that one day theyāll receive the affections theyāve been craving all along. Love makes people foolish, irrational, idiotic. And Dabi has always considered himself smarter than the average man.
The anger in your eyes has dissipated down to pain, and he isnāt sure which one he preferred more. Your hand comes up to cup his cheeks, and he allows it for a breathās moment before smacking it away as if it were offensive somehow, the limb falling limply by your side before balling into a fist. Anger returns, and itās then he decides heād rather have the anger than the hurt. Itās easier to cause a heart rate to spike than it is to stitch a wound.
āBecause why, Dabi? Why the hell would I go to prison?ā you dare to ask.
āBecause we fuck around and theyād be able to trace you back to me.ā
The words fall from his lips faster than he can catch them, splattering against your skin with an acid strong enough to strip you down to the bone, put on display and scared of scarring as it eats away at your body. Itās too late for regrets when he sees your eyes cloud over with an agony he canāt even begin to decipher. It wasnāt supposed to hurt you. It was supposed to piss you off, to rebuild the walls he allowed you to carefully deconstruct. He was supposed to make you hate him, to make you forget what the definition of love is and associate his face with villainous tasks not for the faint of heart.
He wasnāt supposed to hurt you.
āSo thatās all this is?ā you whisper, lowering your head and tucking your fangs back into your gums for safe-keeping. Your voice is strikingly low, quiet even, but that doesnāt stop each word from lacerating at Dabiās barely-beating heart. āIām just some fuck to you? Like the days Iāve spent rubbing your back because you drank too much the night before didnāt mean shit? Or the nights weāve spent telling each other secrets and talking about a future without corrupted heroes was all just fun and games for you? None of it meant anything? I didnāt mean anything? Is that what youāre saying, Dabi?ā
Venom sits in his enamel, eroding his tongue and any semblance of self-control he had.
It burns, it burns, it burns.
He thought heād be used to burning by nowāburning forests, burning bodies, burning himself. To be alive is to set yourself on fire, and Dabi bares the scars of his livelihood. Itās all he knows, all he was taught by a man who was determined to have the brightest flame the world has ever seen.
It burns, it burns, it burns.
Touya died in a self-inflicted fire set ablaze by a child who only wanted his fatherās love and attention. Is Dabi going to die by yet another fire set ablaze by a man who doesnāt know how to allow himself to be loved?
It burns, it burns, it burns.
It burns to see you so hurt. It burns to know heās the reason behind it. It burns to look in your cold eyes and see his own angry reflection in them. It burns to see your fists shake and wonder if youāre imagining driving them into his cheeks. It burns to know that heās losing another home because even now, after all of these years, he still isnāt good enough.
The table sitting next to him splinters into a thousand little pieces as he drives his fist through the wood, all of his frustration and anger towards himself channeled into his bony knuckles. You donāt even flinch at the action, and that only seems to anger him even more. āI didnāt ask you to do any of that shit! You volunteered, in case you forgot, sweetcheeks. I didnāt come knocking at your door asking you to take care of me. You invited me in. You offered me a place to stay. You gave me food to eat, hot water to bathe in, a bed to sleep in. And what the fuck was I supposed to say? āOh, no thank you, hot stranger, Iāll just stay homeless and sleep with rats in a cardboard boxā?ā
āYou didnāt have to pretend to love me,ā you shout back, eyes flitting around like a wild animal, fists trembling at your side, chest heaving as if you just ran a mile. āYou didnāt have to rip yourself open and put on this whole āpoor me, poor Dabiā act if thatās how you really feel. You couldāve just been some typical useless roommate who pops in every now and then. You didnāt have to pretend. You...you didnāt have to lie to me.ā
āWait, Iāā
āOh, no, no itās fine, Dabi. Itās fine. Iām the one who got caught up in their feelings. It was my mistake. I put way more thought into this than you did. Itās fine, really.ā
But it isnāt fine. None of this is fine. The crystals forming in your eyes arenāt fine. The wounds splitting open on your chest arenāt fine. Your shaking hands and tight knuckles arenāt fine. His bleeding heart isnāt fine. His bulging throat clogged with every word he wished he could say isnāt fine. His fists filled with splitters and emotions arenāt fine.
Nothing is fine.
But youāre so determined to protect the treasure in your chest you thought was safe in the hands of a thief (what a foolish, naive thing to think, really), that youāre willing to believe any lie. As long as itās sweeter than the bitter truth, itāll go down easier. Deep down, you know the reality behind all of the smoke and mirrors, know it before Dabi runs over to your side with his puppy-dog eyes and dulled flames, have known it since the first time the criminal fell asleep in your arms: he trusts you. And that, for Dabi, means more than something as fleeting as love. Granted, lingering somewhere in that scarred heart of his, you know he loves you. He wouldnāt keep coming around if he didnāt. He wouldnāt steal for you, sneak away from his group for you, try (and fail miserably) to cook for you, include you in his plans, allow you to call him by his nameā¦ But loving something as explosive as Dabi means youāre bound to get burned at some point, and you have a funny feeling youāre going to need some salve tonight.
āI...I didnāt mean it like that,ā Dabi rushes to reassure you, his hands trying their hardest to find the wounds he caused even though he doesnāt know the first thing about healing. āI justā¦ Iām not the best when it comes to this emotional bullshit, y'know?ā
Flinching away from his touch, you whisper, āI think you should go.ā
āCāmon, dollāā
āI mean it, Dabi.ā Your voice is firmer now, steadier, and you wrap your arms protectively around your body.
āYouāre kidding, right?ā he incredulously replies. āI didnāt mean it. Youāve gotta believe me, doll. It was just something stupid that slipped out, and youāre gonna kick me to the curb for it? Just toss me aside after everything weāve been through? After everything Iāve told you? I let you call me my fucking name, and youāre cutting me out over a dumbass mistake?ā
And right behind his sapphire eyes, tucked away in the corners of his skull, he can see the white hot flames again, burning away at the tips of his fingers, dancing across his tongue and leaving blisters, new scars decorating his heart and flooding his lungs. Heās choking and sputtering, and though he knows he has the power to stop them, he canāt help but lose himself in the familiar sensation. It feels good to be on fire again. Itās home, itās all he knows, itās all he can truly feelājust fire, fire, fire.
Dabi, if nothing, is a man meant to burn. He was born with a flame his body can barely contain, and heās determined to allow the world to burn with him.
And though he knows how close he was to finding a new home in your bones, and he knows how close he was to having his sins forgiven and the bloods on his hands washed off, he knows he doesnāt deserve it. He doesnāt deserve any of the smiles flashed at him, any of the seconds spent in your arms, any of the kisses exchanged between hungry mouths, any of the secrets placed on his lips for safe-keeping, any of the butterflies fluttering in his guts.
He was made for destruction, and heāll die for it as well.
And though he doesnāt want to hurt you, he knows itās inevitable. Fire doesnāt discriminate against who it burns. Heās living, breathing evidence of that.
When your eyes meet, he can already see the scars forming over them, can see his handprint seared onto the cornea and a new cautionary tale for you: never trust the man with blue eyes to match his blue flames.
āItās time to go, Dabi,ā you state, jaw tight and twitching with anger.
He sneers down at you, āDonāt you mean Touya?ā
āHe died a long time ago, remember?ā
You might as well slapped him in the face, spat in his eye, curse his name and everything he stands for. It hurts more than his own flames ever willāthe ice in your scarred eyes, the gates closing around your soul, your fingers curling in on themselves, your lips sewing themselves shut. Youāre closing yourself off to him, and he has no idea what to do now that youāve changed all of the locks and threw away the keys. Heās over, done with, nothing more than the same traumatized child willing to burn himself alive just to have someone look at him for more than a second.
Heās Touya Todoroki: young, naive, driven, boisterous, eager to see the world and be a part of it, ready to prove himself worthy of being born.
Heās Dabi: self-destructive, sadistic, crude, violent, determined to tear the world apart, ready to prove how hypocritical heroes truly are.
Heās neither: scared, lost, unsure if he ever really was any of that, not quite the boy who wants his fatherās love but not quite the man who wants to destroy him, unsteady on his feet as he tries to find his place in this ever-shifting world.
Heās both: driven, self-destructive, naive, eager to see the world, determined to tear it apart, ready to prove himself worthy of being born and show how hypocritical heroes truly are.
He doesnāt know who he is anymore, who he wants to be.
All he knows is youāve given up on him, and that hurts more than any flame that has touched his skin before.
He leaves without another word, no more venom flung at you to add to the scars heās left, no more furniture broken with shaking fists and scabbed knuckles, no more fiery eyes and sharp tongues. Just a man who has lost the only home he ever truly had.
The third time you call Dabi his name, he learns that love, as dangerous as it is, can heal even the deepest of wounds, and heās ready to rid himself of the scars that have haunted his skin for as long as he dares to remember.
He isnāt sure how heās wound up in front of your apartment, rain pouring down on him because his life was never a cliche until he met you, alcohol sitting heavy in his stomach and grounding his feet, new burns spreading across his abdomen and tainting what little skin he has left. He doesnāt want you to see them. He doesnāt want your fingers to trace the spaces his flames have violated and stained with their hatred. He doesnāt want your eyes to flash with pity as they scan him. He doesnāt want your lips to turn down into a frown when you open your door and see his soaked body, crooked grin on his face because everything about him is a little crooked, old staples missing and new ones in new places, his chest cracked open and put on display for you.
He isnāt sure what heās hoping to get out of this surprise visitation. A part of him hopes to see you angry, because if youāre angry you care, and he isnāt sure how fit he is for a world where you no longer care about him. A part of him hopes to see you apathetic, because that would confirm the belief he isnāt worth anything anymore, and that would make destroying himself a little easier. Another, smaller part of him, hopes to see you happy, to see relief wash your features and erase the fight you two had about love and other fickle things. It might be impossible at this point, but heās never been one for easy goals.
All Dabi truly knows, however, is he wants to see you. Itās really as simple as that, and though he isnāt a simple man and doesnāt like simple things, the desire to see you is thatāsimple. Itās been haunting him since he stumbled out of your apartment blinded with anger and fear. How long has it been since heās stood here? A week? Two weeks? A month? Time becomes such a messy thing when itās spent trying to find the next surefire way to burn your bones.
Despite the clothes clinging to his skin, he feels naked, stripped of all of his armor and put on display for you to use and dispose however you please. Dabi isnāt the type to come crawling back to places he isnāt wanted. Heād much rather fake his own death and fly under the radar for years until heās long forgotten about. But Dabi has also never been the type to look at the stars and try to find someoneās name written in them. Heās never been the type to try to find a face in a sea of people bustling about their days without having to worry about how theyāre going to make the world know about them. Heās never tried to find meaning in the clouds or why some planets revolve around stars together while others just crash into each other.
But then he met you and suddenly, he cared. He cared about why some birds hid from the rain while others embraced it. He cared about why stars liked to hide and where they disappeared to. He cared about why some wounds healed and served as a cautionary tale and why others stuck around and served as a personality trait. He cared about Touya Todorokiāthe boy whose only dream was to be what his father wanted and to be loved by those who were in his life. And that, he thinks, is the scariest thing heās ever done. To hate is easy, itās simple, and though heās not a simple man and doesnāt like simple things, he loved it. He loved being able to burn those who hurt him and have his world be as simple as: if it isnāt beneficial, turn it to ashes. Black and white and blue. Thatās all it was.
Then he saw you look at him as if he had personally strung the stars in the sky for you and suddenly, the universe seemed a lot bigger than sick mothers and neglectful fathers.
He still doesnāt quite understand it and, truth be told, he doesnāt think he ever wants to understand it. For once in his life, heās okay with leaving this mystery unsolved. Heās okay with having more questions than answers. Heās okay with having an unfinished puzzle and not turning over furniture looking for the right piece to complete the picture.
As long as he has you, heās okay with finding out who Touya could have been before he burned him to ashes.
The light from your apartment floods his sensitive eyes when you swing the door open, and he almost misses the confusion that flashes across your face before you settle for a guarded expression.
āWhat are you doing here?ā It, like most things, is a simple question, but it still hurts nonetheless, especially when paired with your arms crossing over your body and your tone pointedly flat.
And, like most things, the answer is simple: āI wanted to see you, baby.ā
You quirk an eyebrow up, but the rest of you remain emotionless, detached. āBaby? Thatās a new one.ā
He grins. āIāve been trying out a lot of new things lately.ā
āOh? Like what?ā
āOh, you know, calling you baby. Sleeping by myself. Not killing everyone who pisses me off. Admitting when I fuck up.ā
What little amusement you allow to seep through is promptly sealed shut behind a frown, and you wrap your arms tighter around your torso in an effort to protect yourself from his charm. āYou canāt just show up here and apologize and think that fixes everything. You really hurt me, Dabi.ā
āBut you havenāt heard the other new things Iāve been trying.ā
You huff, knowing once Dabi has his sights on something itās near impossible to distract him. Heās headstrong, determined, and thatās one of the many reasons you fell in love with him (and got burned for it). āFine, Iāll listen. But we arenāt doing it out here in the rain. Iām cold and tired and want to finish my tea.ā
For the first time in weeks, you allow him in your home, and it pains him how much hasnāt changed. While his entire world was falling apart, the same shoes have stayed by your front door, the same throw blanket has been strewn across the back of your couch, the same kettle sits on your stovetop, the same jackets hang on your coat rack, and youāve even managed to find the same table to replace the one he smashed. Your life has remained the same without him, and that is something worth shedding a tear over if he could.
He tries to sit on your couch, but you quickly stop him. āYouāre soaking wet,ā you reason, and motion for him to go to the bathroom. āI think I have some of your old clothes around here somewhere. Wait there and Iāll bring them to you.ā
Thankfully, your compassion has remained the same as well. As he stands in your small bathroom built for one person, rain and the last of his ego dripping off of him, heās reminded of the first time your paths crossed, when he passed out in an alleyway due to overuse of his quirk and woke up in a bed that smelled like tea leaves, old books, and love. He remembers wandering into the kitchen and finding you humming to yourself, a robe wrapped tightly around your body, two mugs of tea on your table, comfort radiating off of your skin and flooding the tiny space. He remembers how high you had jumped when you realized he had woken up, how quickly you rushed to make sure he knew where the bathroom was and how to properly work your shower so he may bathe, how you had a plate full of food ready for him when he returned to your kitchen a clean man.
He remembers asking you why let a strange, scary-looking man who was unconscious in a shady alley sleep in your home, and you simply replied over your mug, ābecause you look like someone who doesnāt receive help often.ā It was so simple then, and he wasnāt used to simplicity. So ke kept coming around, trying to unravel the mystery of why such a sweet person would help such a tainted one, kept asking questions and prodding at your brain in hopes that maybe heād find out youāre just as sick as he is. That was never the case, of course. It was and always has been as simple as you being a good person and him being someone in need of a home.
Heās drunk and nostalgic, which is not a good combination for men with shattered souls and too many scars to keep track of and generous people with giving hearts and healing words. And although a part of him feels as if heās taking advantage of the kindness you have shown him, he canāt bring himself to feel guilty. Maybe itās the selfish animal in his heart that refuses to release its sharp teeth. Maybe itās how even after all of these months spent together, you manage to find a way to surprise him. Maybe, just maybe, heās finally ready to accept the love youāve been offering him. Whatever it is thatās fueling this selfish desire to lock you away in his chest, nestled right between his lungs, safe from the others with sharp teeth and even sharper tongues, heās allowing it to roam free and take whatever it wants.
He strips himself of his clothing just in time for you to knock at the door, your gentle voice ringing through the wood. āI found some clothes.ā
āWell, bring āem in,ā he replies.
āAre you naked?ā
He rolls his eyes, though you canāt see him. āCāmon, itās nothing you havenāt seen before.ā
āButāā
āJust open the door, baby.ā
His voice is soft as he says itāso soft, in fact, you arenāt sure if you heard him correctly. But you did, and youāre more than aware of the fact that youāre about to see him soaked down to the bone and as naked as the moon in the sky. Hesitantly, you open the door just enough to accommodate your arm, and right when you slide your handful of clothes through the crack, Dabiās fingers brush against yours. Electricity runs down your skināhot, familiar, exhilarating. It steals the breath from your lungs, makes you feel as if the wooden floor beneath your feet is shifting, reminds you of how good it felt to have his rough skin pressed against yours. Itās far too tempting to rip the door open and drink in the sight of the man who holds your heart in his scarred palm, and if you still werenāt so hurt over his words, you might have. You almost think Dabi is going to do it, but, much to your surprise, he doesnāt.
āDo you mind closing the door? The draft is a little cold.ā He isnāt being ornery about it. Thereās no sneer to his voice. Heās almost...kind about it. Tender. Something you never thought you would associate with the man who just weeks ago plotted to murder his younger brother in order to seek revenge against his father.
You nearly slam in the door in your haste to close it and stutter out, āS-Sorry!ā before scrambling to your couch. Whoever this Dabi is, you arenāt sure. The last time you saw him, he was angry, hurt, ready to burn everything he has ever known in a vain attempt to feel something other than the pain throbbing in his chest. He was a wounded animal lashing out at anything that dared to try to get close to him. He was a jaded man who never thought himself worthy of kindness. He was impulsive, impatient, self-destructive, and, above all else, vengeful. Whoever has come knocking at your door is not the man who walked out of it. This man, whoever he may be, is humble, quiet, hesitant, and retrospective.
Heās also drunk and has been out wandering in the rain.
Dabi joins you on the couch before your mind can start spinning in circles, his white hair still sticking to his face and droplets cascading down his face, sapphire orbs shining with something you canāt quite put your finger on but still shakes you down to your core. He isnāt irate. He isnāt breaking furniture or complaining about Shigarakiās next foolish move or ranting about how Endeavor has foiled his latest plan or about how he doesnāt trust Hawks and all of his easy smiles and charming laughter. Heās calm, his hands resting on his knees and eyes resting on your face, searching for somethingāa sign youāre ready to listen. And despite the wounds youāre still tending to and the bandages on your skin from all of the venomous words he flung at you, your heart and mind are open and willing to take whatever he wants to give you.
Itās an odd feeling to know youāre still okay with this man and all of his thick walls and bloodied hands even after heās shown you the part of him he keeps buried underneath sneers and a mask of disinterest. Before his temper was turn towards you, you never believed him capable of murder, of violence, of all of those plans he stays up late stringing together and comes home battered and bruised from trying to execute. Before you saw how easily his hands can destroy, he was simply Dabi: the man you found face down and drowning in his own trauma. Now thereās burn marks on your furniture and soul in the shape of his palms, and though you arenāt too sure where to take the next step, youāre still wanting to take it regardless.
Topaz flits from your lips and back up to your eyes, the crystals dripping from his snow hair causing him to look ethereal. A hesitant Dabi is a rare sight, but a beautiful one nonetheless. āDo you wantāā
āYou must be cold,ā you blurt out, shocking the both of you.
He cocks an eyebrow and the smirk youāre all too familiar with returns to his cracked lips. Youāre nervous, fluttery, nerves causing you to act more erratic and unsure of yourself. Itās cute, he thinks, cute how you go from so stubborn and closed off to a school girl trying to keep the butterflies in her stomach from crawling up her throat. Itās also a relief to see you get jumpy around him like you used to before he kissed you until your minds turned to mush and your fingers tangled with his hair and he pinned you down to your mattress, bodies tangled so tightly together he wasnāt sure where he began and where you ended. You still care. āYeah, rain is pretty cold.ā
You nod a little too eagerly. āIāll make you some tea.ā
āYou go do that, doll.ā
āAnd I can get you a blanket.ā
āIf you want.ā
āAnd I can make you some food.ā
āSure. I could eat.ā
āAnd Iāllā¦ Iāll be back!ā
āDonāt be gone too long.ā
He watches you leave with a grin full of amusement and affection, and that does nothing to help ease the anxiety rolling around in your gut. You feel clumsy, skittish, for all of the wrong reasons. You want to kiss him. You want to shake the water out of his shaggy hair and pull on the ends of it while his lips attack your neck. You want to wrap your legs around his waist and feel his thighs flex underneath you as he tries to pull you as close as possible. You want to hear all of those breathless moans that tumble from his lips whenever you nibble on his collarbone. You want to lose yourself in him. Forget the anger, the hurt, the nights spent shivering because you didnāt have him next to you, the mornings spent drinking tea alone and making enough food for one person. Heās back, and youāre almost certain he was forgiven before the moon disappeared from the sky the night he left.
You can feel his eyes burning a hole in your back as you prep your kettle to boil some water, watching the way your hands shake as you turn the burner on and how you nearly drop the lid to it, and you know for a fact he has that same smirk on his lips. Why are you so damn nervous around him now? Heās buried himself in you too many times to count, has whispered the most obscene things in your ear, has seen you at your most raw and unfiltered, and now youāve turned into a neurotic mess? Why is your stomach doing somersaults and why is your heart slamming itself in your ribcage and why does your throat feel too large for your neck?
Because this Dabi isnāt the Dabi who left. You know in the deepest parts of your guts, past the pain and the hesitance, whoever is sitting on your couch is not the man who broke your table. And even if thereās alcohol swimming in his veins and an ego in need of nursing, thereās something alarmingly self-aware twinkling in his sapphires, something that lets you know he knows. He knows he hurt you. He knows he wasnāt in the right. He knows he bit the only hand that was willing and wanting to feed him. He knows your knuckles still bare his teeth marks. He knows itās going to take more than a simple fuck to make everything okay again. Because, for the first time, it isnāt going to be simple with you. It isnāt going to be as simple as him needing a bandage and you pulling out a first aid kit. It isnāt going to be as simple as him being angry at the world and you helping him get lost in the stars. And heās okay with it. Heās okay reopening any wounds that didnāt heal quite right. Heās okay with spilling every single word sitting in his guts. Heās okay complicating himself if that means making things easy for you. Because, like almost everything else that has to do with you, youāre simply worth it.
He speaks up while youāre digging through your closet trying to find a blanket suitable for him, his voice laced with an odd mixture of hesitance and bemusement. āWhile youāre being all fidgety and shit, can I tell you the other new things Iāve been trying?ā
āIf you want.ā You echo his previous words, careful to keep the anxiety out of your voice, as you prepare to make a meal for him.
Though you canāt see him, he smilesāa real smile for once. No sarcasm or scorn buried underneath taut muscle. A genuine smile with genuine happiness and genuine love. As scary as it is, itās something he could get used to if he doesnāt keep himself on a leash, but he thinks he might be okay with that. āI looked at myself in the mirror the day after I left.ā
That stops all of your tense movements in their tracks. Mirrors have been Dabiās worst fear since the day you met him, because they contain his worst enemy. Heās avoided them, broken them, used the shards to puncture his heart and lacerate his lungs. Heās covered them, screamed at them, tried to erase them from his memory. To look at himself in the mirror is to face himself head-on, and thatās something you never thought youād see. āHow was that?ā
He chuckles, deep and sorrowful, a sound that comes from the bittersweet emotions heās destroyed his feet trying to run from. āI fucking hated it. Iām a real scary looking bastard, eh?ā
āNo.ā The word tumbles out of your mouth with a resoluteness Dabi never thought himself worthy of. Your eyes are full of conviction once they meet with his, your jaw set in the way that lets him know there isnāt anything that will change your mind.
Itās adorable how deeply you think he deserves love even after heās shown you how much it can hurt, and he canāt help but chuckle at how quickly your demeanor can change when it comes to matters like self-hate and forgiveness. āDid you lose your eyesight while I was gone? Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I aināt the prettiest face around here.ā
You chew on your lip, careful that the words that leave your mouth help soothe the wounds on his mind. āI donāt care about your scars or your staples. I donāt care about the blood and gore. None of that matters.ā
āOh? Then what does? Because last I checked, society only likes pretty people with pretty quirks and pretty lives. Society doesnāt give a flying fuck about ugly bastards like me with ugly quirks and ugly lives.ā
Dabi doesnāt expect you to answer, but youāve always found ways to surprise him. The food on the kitchen counter is long forgotten about as you close the space between you two, your body just mere inches away from his. Itās the closest youāve been since that night, and he has to fight the urge to pull you down on his lap. He doesnāt need to, apparently, because youāre practically sitting on it as your fingers trace over his brow bone with a touch so gentle, he could weep right then and there.
āWhat matters,ā you whisper, āis how much your eyes shine when you laugh.ā And then, your finger is tracing the corners of his mouth, ghosting over his lips. āWhat matters is how soft your lips are when theyāre pressed on me.ā And then, down the hollow of his throat down to his collarbone. āWhat matters is how you always smell like stale cigarettes and campfires.ā And then, down his chest and right on the beginning of his abdomen. āWhat matters is how safe I feel when youāre holding me.ā And finally, your palm rests right above his left peck, right over his hammering heart. āWhat matters is your passion, your drive, your determination. I donāt give a damn what society thinks about you. I think youāre beautiful, Touya.ā
He knows itās technically impossible but he swears he feels fireworks in his chestābombastic, ribcage-breaking, heart-shattering, soul-cracking passion tearing his muscles apart until all thatās left is a body full of love. He loves you, and you think heās beautiful, and heās almost certain that, in this moment, everything is right in the world. āCan this beautiful man kiss you?ā he breathes out, his eyes pleading with you to allow him to show you just how youāve managed to piece him back together.
āOnly if I can kiss him back,ā you shyly reply.
If Dabi ever doubted the existence of angels, he knows now how terribly wrong he was, how utterly pessimistic and downright ignorant it was to doubt ethereal lives when he has one right here in his arms, sweet lips pressed against his, legs wrapped around his waist, arms pulling him closer and closer until your chests are touching and thereās not an inch of space between you two. Flashes of gold and thrones and feathers cross his mind as he breathes you ināall of the things he used to deny but now longs for. He wants to rule heaven with you, wants to make new worlds where other angels canāt follow and look down at him in disapproval, where he canāt hear their conspiratorial whispers of the saint who fell in love with the sinner, where heās free to love you and worship you and allow his temporal hands roam your celestial body.
Dabi is a man who was born of corruption and gluttony and has fallen head over heels in love with purity and selflessness, and though he doubts he will ever think of himself worthy of such things, it wonāt stop him from indulging. He is, after all, a bit greedy himself.
When his tongue brushes against yours and the taste of beer explodes in your mouth, youāre uncomfortably aware of the fact that only one of you is sober. You pull away, much to yours and his disappointment, but rest your forehead on his so youāre never too far from him. If you could, you would sew yourself to his skin, bury yourself in his bones and make a home out of his veins, play a prayer of love and devotion on loop so he knows that no matter how much heaven may shun sinners and all of their scars, youāre capable of a little rebellion every now and then.
But for now, while intoxication is a factor in a matter that should be dealt with a clear mind, youāll settle for holding his hand.
āDabi, youāreāā
āDrunk,ā he finishes for you, a sort of sad smile on his face. āIf it makes you feel better, Iām way more sober now.ā
Itās a joke to help calm the guilt rolling around in your guts, you know it, and you brush your fingers against the corner of his mouth, wondering how long itās been since heās smiled and how often he might now. āWill you regret any of this in the morning?ā
It stabs him right in the heart to hear such a question full of hesitance and apprehension asked so quietly, if he werenāt so dead set on catching every word that falls from your lips he might not have heard you. He feels the way your shoulders shake, can tell youāre just barely holding back tears, and he presses his hand to the back of your head to guide your face to the crook of his neck where youāre free to cry and hiccup however much you need. āI could never regret anything when it comes to you, baby. Why the tears?ā
āI justā¦ā A shaky sigh falls from your lips, your tears mixing with the droplets still clinging to his hair. āI thought I lost you before and now youāre back and I know technically youāre drunk but I know how sincere you are and itās all just soāā
His fingers begin to massage circles into your shoulder blades, and he presses his lips to the side of your head, nose full of your scent and trying its best to burn it into his memory. āBabe.ā
āY-Yeah?ā you hiccup.
āFuckinā breathe. Itās okay. Itās all okay. You didnāt lose me. Iām right here, baby, right fuckinā here, and Iām not going anywhere. Not again. I fucked up, okay? I fucked up real bad and I know I did. I promise you, Iām not really drunk at all. I mean, I had a good buzz going on when I first showed up, but being here with you, talking with you, sobered me up real quick.ā
And he sounds so genuine, so full of love and honesty, you canāt help but tangle your fingers in his hair, pull him so close you can feel his heartbeat against yours, bury your face right next to his jugular and commit mortality to memory. You cry until your eyes are almost swollen shut. You cry until your heart feels too large for your chest. You cry until your breath is a stuttering mess.
You cry for Dabi and all of the pain heās carried around with him and no place to put it. You cry for Touya and all of the homes heās lost and all of the times he was never enough. You cry for yourself and how deeply you love a man who only believes himself worthy of destruction. You cry for lost potential and empty promises of better tomorrows. You cry for broken furniture and shattered hearts because no one ever warned you love wasnāt easy. You cry and cry and cry until your voice is hoarse and the only thing you can taste is the salt cascading down your face.
And Dabi holds you through it all. His hands run up and down your back, gently rocking both of your bodies to a tune only he knows, his lips pressed against your head in hopes you can feel the adoration seeping out of his body. He allows you to unleash all of the emotions heās stirred up in you. He catches every tear that falls from your eyes, thankful heās unable to shed his own.
Once the world has stopped shifting and youāre able to steady yourself, he carries you to your bed without another word, a tender kiss against your forehead before he turns to leave.
āWhere are you going?ā you ask, barely managing to whisper.
He smiles down gently at you. āYou left some food out. I was gonna put it away then crawl in bed.ā
āDonāt care. Come to bed now.ā
āYour wish is my command.ā
With your face tucked away in his chest, your arms wrapped around his torso, and your legs tangled with his, Dabi falls into a peaceful sleep for the very first time since he learned that family will always be your first disappointment.
The fourth time you call Dabi by his name, he finally allows himself to drown in the emotions heās spent his entire life learning to swim away from.
The sinner wakes up with angel feathers around his body, the spot where your body laid empty and cold but scent still clinging onto the sheets. He quickly finds himself in a familiar routine of glaring at the nosy sun peeking through curtains and violating his eyes, cursing his nocturnal nature and how much easier it is to be himself in front of the moon and stars. After contemplating if going back to sleep is worth it (it isnāt), he drags his body out of bed and into a warm shower. The smell of your shampoo is somewhere to be found in the leftover steam of your own shower, and he smiles to himself when he remembers where heās at: home. And it isnāt a home where dishes are broken and voices crack and plead. It isnāt a home where fear sits in the living room and stress waits for him in the kitchen. It isnāt a home where heās expected to be an adult with obligations without ever knowing what itās like to be a child full of wonder.
Itās a home where angels sing in the kitchen as they cook breakfast while he tries to wash his sins away in the bathroom and that, he thinks, is the closest to perfection he will ever get.
He walks into the kitchen with a towel around his waist and his scars on full displayānew ones angry and red, old ones melancholy and purpleāand, for once, he isnāt afraid. He doesn't try to hide them under baggy clothes and jeering words. He allows your eyes to run over them and wince at the fresh ones and squint at the old ones, because he knows you arenāt disgusted by them, you donāt pity him, you accept them as they areāreminders of times where he strayed too close to the fire.
āMorning, baby,ā he says around a yawn as he sits at your table.
You smile softly at him and how easy he finds it to be around you. āYouāre really laying the ābabyā stuff on thick, huh?ā
āI mean, you only let me call you a cockslut when youāre being one, and I donāt see you on your knees right now soā¦ā
Flustered, you quickly turn back around to tend to the salmon and eggs youāve been cooking, probably adding far too much salt but trying to not pay attention to how much your hands are shaking. This causes Dabi to laughāgentle, deep, melodic in a sense, carefree and raspy. āOh, so you think youāre Mr. Funny Man, hm?ā you challenge, though you donāt dare face him.
āI think Iām downright hilarious, baby.ā
āWell, that makes one of us.ā
āWhatever you say, baby.ā
You swat a tea towel at him, which he quickly dodges with a grin, and you roll your eyes. āYou arenāt giving up any time soon, are you?ā
āDo I ever? Baby.ā
āPoint taken.ā
Breakfast is eaten in comfortable silenceāDabi radiating a happiness you never thought possible, you soaking it all in with a sense of relief. He takes his time as he eats, as if heās savoring every flavor crawling around his tongue, contemplative as his teeth shred his food to tiny pieces. You admire the sight of his furrowed brow and bright eyes as you sip on your tea, unsure of what to say and worried what you do want to say will scare him away. So rather than choke on the words sitting in the back of your throat, you take this opportunity to inspect his body. After all, it isnāt every day Dabi is comfortably shirtless, especially in the sunās rays where all of his flaws are visible for anyone and everyone to see.
You spot the newer burns sitting close to his hips, not quite as wrathful as the older ones resting on his chest, but still containing a torment you donāt think youāll ever understand firsthand (and you doubt heād want you to). When he first began showing up at your doorstep and all you knew about him was he looked different than anyone else you knew, you used to tell yourself stories about his scarsāhow he got them, how painful they were, which ones are newer than the others, which ones were self-inflicted and which ones were done by a resentful hand, how they all come together for form a man whoās become a sort of expert when dealing with macabre things.
If it bothers him to have your attention so focused on things he tries so hard to hide, heās never said anything about it. When he first noticed how fixated you were on his scars, he cupped your chin and tilted your head up, forcing you to look at his sapphires full of curiosity and hesitance.
āLittle distracted there, doll,ā he observed.
āDo they hurt?ā
He blinked, unsure of what to make of your harmless tone. āNot really. If I get new ones, they hurt like a motherfucker, but I get used to it after a few days.ā
āAre they hard to take care of?ā
āNo. Iāve been taking care of them for a while now so itās not a big deal.ā
Your fingers gently traced the staples on his collarbone, careful to not pluck at any, not a hint of disgust to be found on your angelic face. āCan you teach me how?ā
He jolted back and immediately guarded himself behind walls high enough to reach the heavens. Suspicion clouded his eyes, laced through his tone and made his muscles more rigid. āWhy?ā
āSo I can help you take care of them,ā you replied, as if everything were really that simple, and Dabi swore he saw a flash of angel wings fluttering on your back.
Back in the present, Dabi watches your eyes fill with nostalgia, a small smile on your face as your fingers trace the rim of your mug. He thinks he can stare at you all day if you would allow him to. He thinks he could spend the rest of forever memorizing all of the expressions you make as you try to dissect mortality and why seraphic beings are so fascinated with it. He knows that eventually, sacrifices will have to be made and one of you will lose themself serving a god who doesnāt like those in love with vengeance while the other one tries to pluck their own eyes out so they may be blind to how much suffering theyāve caused. But, for now, heās happy being the fool in love who flew too close to the sun.
āLittle distracted there, baby,ā he chuckles, gathering up your dishes and placing them in the sink. āAm I just that handsome?ā
āYou never did teach me how to help take care of them,ā you reply with a somber tone.
The mug heās holding nearly slips out of his hand when your words reach his ears. So you really were thinking about morality and all of its ugliness. He tries his hardest to keep his voice light, to not show how much he envies angels and how easy ignorance is for them. āThey arenāt yours to take care of.ā
āNo, but Iād like to help.ā
āWhy?ā
āBecauseā¦ā Because I love you. There is it again, that goddamn sentence that always manages to stick itself to the roof of your mouth. Youāre choking on it, trying to allow oxygen to flow through lungs that are turning inside out because you canāt seem to find the courage to say you love a sinner in a world that shuns blood and fire. Acid fills your throat as your lips try to form the words burning at your gums. I love you, I love you, I love you. Why is it so hard to say? Why is love such a scary thing even though it presents itself as a cure for everything wrong in the world? Why does your kitchen seem smaller than before? Why are there black spots dancing in front of your eyes? Why is Dabi so afraid of anything he canāt burn and why are you afraid of giving him a reason to leave?
āBecauseā¦?ā he prompts you, oblivious to your inner turmoil.
You try to flash an easy smile at him, though you fear it may look strangled. āBecause I donāt want you to bleed everywhere if you miss a spot.ā
That certainly isnāt the answer he was expecting given the way a chuckle stutters out of his throat, but he finds himself laughing until heās nearly bent at the waist and struggling to catch his breath. Itās a beautiful sound, one full of long-lost joy and too many cigarettes smoked under a full moon, one that cups your heart and kisses it tenderly. āWell, I donāt want to ruin any more furniture,ā he hums. āBetter teach yaā the secrets to my staples and how to make this mug oh-so pretty.ā
After dishes have been washed and food has been stored away, you usher Dabi back to the bathroom and pull out the first aid kit youāve learned to keep handy. He guides you with a firm hand and soft voice, tells you how to properly disinfect the burns and where to place the staples so they hold everything together, teaches you how to keep your fingers from shaking and how to not wince whenever metal punctures flesh. Keeping someone from falling apart shouldnāt feel so intimate, but with every staple placed into taut skin a jolt of something warm, something precious, something so fragile youāre afraid if you acknowledge it itāll fall apart, spreads across your chest and causes sunlight to pour out of your hands.
With every brush of your fingers, the sinner is slowly learning to admire sunrises and how they highlight all of the things he tries to hide in the night. Itās not an easy task, and he struggles to fight the urge to find solace in galaxies littered across the sky, but if it means he can admire your face under the rays then heāll bear through it all. Youāre so close to himāthe closest youāve been in weeks. He can see every eyelash, every pore, every bit of stardust swimming under your skin and all of the oceans running through your veins. His body might contain destruction, but yours contains creationāthe secrets to all of the universes and how to create life out of pure love. And maybe itās a bit of an oxymoron to have such opposing things crash together, but Dabi is not a simple man and he doesnāt like simple things.
āCan I tell you the other new things Iāve been trying?ā he asks timidly.
You look up in a pair of frightened sapphires and nod slowly, shyly. āYes.ā
Long, slender fingers stop your hand from placing another staple into him, and rough lips kiss all of the suns in your palms. His voice shakes when he speaks, nearly as much as his soul does, but he still forces the words out. āIāve been trying out this...thing. Itās pretty fuckinā scary. To be honest, I never thought Iād try it. And to be even more honest, I thought it was too late for me to try it. I thought it came with an expiration date, yāknow? Like those credit card offers you get in the mail that say some bullshit like, āThis offer is only good for the next two weeks! Sign up now!ā But recently, I learned that now is the perfect time to try it.ā
āAnd what is it?ā
The air is filled with anticipation, with words that have sat in throats for far too long, with feelings that have been locked away in chests, with pasts that have refused to die, with futures that may never live, with closets overfilling with skeletons. Itās suffocating, terrifying, absolutely world-shattering. But with your gift of creation, Dabi can destroy as much as he wants without worrying about leaving any new nasty scars on planets. Heās free to be himself, to unleash as much fire as he wants, and youāll be right behind him, sweeping up ashes and leaving life in their wake.
āLove.ā
Once the word drips from his tongue and lands right on your chest, the world stops turning. Stars can no longer be found and the moon buried itself in a black hole and oceans stop their waves. Angels have stopped fussing about forgiveness and gods are no longer worried about who deserves to be smited next. The entire universe and beyond has ceased to expand because all that matters in this moment is how Dabiās heart is no longer caged and youāre no longer afraid to play with fire.
Tears fill your eyes before you can stop them, and Dabi brushes his thumb across your eyelashes. āYou love me.ā It isnāt a question, and it certainly doesnāt need an answer, but he offers you one anyway.
āI love you, and Iām so sorry itās taken me so long to realize.ā
If the sinner didnāt know any better, he wouldāve thought he heard the angels begin to sing. But trivial things like sins and purity, heaven and hell, angels and demons, donāt matter because none of them could ever feel as freeing as loving you. Heās no longer bound by the past and all of its bloodshed, and he thinks itās okay to forget it sometimes. His fingers shake as they brush tears away you didnāt even know you have shed, careful to not taint your divine skin with his infernal hands, a shy sort of smile on your lips as you pull his body closer to yours. He protests that youāll get blood on your clothes, and you shush him by telling him youāve always been fascinated with mortals anyway, and neither of you are sure who initiated it but your lips are slotting together and you remember why heaven never felt like home.
Before you could get lost in how good it feels to not have to worry about serving a vengeful god, Dabi picks you up and carries you to your bedroom, chest flush against yours and hearts beating in sync. Heās gentle as he lays you on your bed, careful to not disturb your wings and all of the feathers falling from your back. His fingers graze your thighs, and for a moment he fears he may be cast down to the deepest pits of hell before heās able to worship you the way you deserve. But then, you pull his face down to yours and kiss him as if he hasnāt spent his entire life in search of his next big sin and, suddenly, hell is worth being dragged through as long as it means he gets to hold your hand.
āI love you,ā he whispers against your lips. āI love you, I love you, I fucking love you, angel.ā
Shaky fingers trace his jawline as if he were going to crumble to desk any second. āI love you, too. Itās okay. Itās okay. Youāre okay. Weāre okay. Everything is okay.ā
He didnāt even realize he had blood droplets welling in his eyes until you gently wiped them away, fingertips glistening with newly formed rubies and trembling as you try to get rid of any evidence of sadness. Rather than trying to voice all of the emotions crawling up his throat, he kisses the wet pads of your digits, a silent thank you for teaching him that even the most corrupt of souls can be saved. Cracked lips trace over soft skin, and though it serves as a reminder of the different worlds you serve, the villain canāt help but lose himself in all of the pretty little noises falling from your mouth. Itās hypnotizing how you can make something as simple as a few breathy moans sound like the same harps in the clouds heās spent his entire life trying to run away from. Heās barely taken your shirt and pants off and youāre already heaving underneath himāthe visual reassurance he needed to know that youāve been waiting for this moment just as eagerly as he had. And right as he lowers his head towards your thighs to provide the relief youāve both needed, you stop him short, trembling hand finding purchase in his snowy locks.
āAngelā¦?ā Sapphires full of questions scan your face, but he waits for you to speak, waits for your explanation, waits for you. Heās spent his entire life waiting for someoneāsomethingālike you, whatās a few more seconds?
You look hesitantāeyes darting around the room, incisors digging into your lower lip, heart thumping in the hollow in your throatāand, if Dabi didnāt know any better, scared. āI...uh...Iām unprepared.ā
He blinks up at you. āIām not following. What do you mean āunpreparedā? No condoms? Iām fairly certain Iāve fried all of my swimmers so thereās a very small chance youāll get knocked up, and I promise you no one has touched me in years so thereās no risk of any infections. Thereās always Plan B too if I still have a few stubborn lilā guys desperate to create a crotch goblin andāā
āNo,ā you cut him off, the heels of your hands digging into your eyes. āI havenāt...yāknow...taken care of things down south in a whileā¦ā
A laugh bubbles up his throat once he realizes what your implications are. You havenāt shaved. Heās covered in nightmarish scars and staples, lanky body trying to destroy itself every second heās alive, and youāre worried about some body hair? It almost pains him to think that youāre so self-conscious of something so miniscule, so human, so mundane it doesnāt even deserve a second thought. Who turned you away for keeping one of your temporal traits? Who shunned you for wanting to be mortal?
āAngel,ā he breathes between chuckles, his knuckles brushing against your cheek and pulling your hands away from your face. āHave you looked at me at all? Like, really looked at me?ā
You meekly nod.
āThen youāll know that Iām the last person to give a fuck about some hair. Hell, I canāt even grow my own body hair because itās all burned to shit. Your body hair is a part of you, therefore, I love it. I donāt care if you grow it, shave it, wax it, whatever. Thatās your choice. So donāt be so ashamed of it, yeah? If you can look past my fuckinā terrifying scars, I can look past a few hairs, okay?ā
Rough fingers trace a soft cheek, and you find yourself nodding again, spreading your legs and allowing him access to the place he craves to be most. Youāre completely and utterly intoxicating looking down at him through unshed crystals, fingers playing with the strands of his hairs while he tries to memorize how you look in this exact moment because heās sure this is the closest to heaven heāll ever get. Heās tender as he traces your soaking slit with his calloused digit, careful to not rush you nor taint you with the impermanence of humanity. A bit of stardust falls out of your mouth when you moan out his name, and heās disappointed in himself for not bringing a mason jar so he may keep all of your celestial beauty on a shelf as a reminder that not everything is as ugly as he is. Still, he considers himself the luckiest mortal to ever grace this earth to see you wriggling underneath him, see how your mouth goes slack when his finger brushes against your swollen clit, hear how soft your pleas for more are, to know that even the holiest of angels are capable of a little sin.
āWhatās that, baby?ā he coos down at you, fingers never leaving the apex of your thighs.
The mewl you let out is cut short by a whimper as he drags his fingers down your fluttering hole, gathering up all of your juices and licking them clean, sapphires never leaving your face. Itās the most erotic thing youāve been blessed enough to see, so fucking sexy and world-shattering as he brings his hand down to grind his palm against your throbbing heat. Lowering his body over yours, he nips at the sensitive shell of your ear, licking and sucking on the afflicted skin until youāre bucking your hips against his hand.
āSāmatter, sweetheart?ā he asks with feigned sympathy. āCanāt handle a little teasing?ā
But, oh god, if only you knew how heās barely hanging on. This last shred of control heās somehow maintained is about to burst at the seams, tear his world to shreds until all he knows is you and all of your feathers and glittering halo. Heās a mere mortal who somehow found a way to break into heaven, and heās about to lose himself amongst all of the clouds if he lets go. He canāt, not yet, not when heās still unsure if you love him as much as he needs you, not when heās afraid of you regretting having an affair with ephemeral beings. You deserve better than him, heās sure of it, but youāre looking up at him with eyes full of stars and wonder and he canāt stop himself from breaking down his own walls heās spent a lifetime building up.
Trembling hands grab at his neck, his hair, anything they can grasp to pull him closer, closer, closer. You want him, you need him, all of him, every last scar, every little staple, every tear he had shed before crying became impossible, every blood-curdling scream that has left his throat, every word that has dripped from his tongue, every insecurity that haunts his heart, everything. You need Dabi, you need Touya Todoroki, you need the man you found facedown in an alleyway, you need the man who shattered your soul and furniture, you need the man who came back and pieced them both back together. You need him, and heās never been more sure of it than in this moment.
āI donāt think youāll ever realize how beautiful you are,ā he whispers, breath hot against your cool skin.
But before you can reply, his tongue is running along your folds and his hands are intensely gripping your hips and, oh my god, you swear you see stars on your ceiling. He drags his tongue across your pussy like a starved man, moaning and panting in sync with every noise that falls from your chest, determined to make you cum, desperate to earn every ounce of praise youāve ever given him. Sapphires clouded with lust and love gaze up at you as a hot mouth toys with your desire, and youāre certain this is what itās like to be worshiped in the best way possible. You brush your thumb against his cheek, a signal that heās so good, the best possible devotee and all of his acts of worship wonāt go in vain.
āF-F-Fuck,ā you mewl, and earn a groan from him in return, the verberations hitting your pussy and causing supernovas to explode behind your eyes. āOh, please, just like that! Youāre so good, Dabi, so fucking good!ā
His index finger replaces his tongue, languid strokes against your sopping heat as he tries to catch his breath. āGoddammit, youāre perfect.ā His voice is somewhere between a moan and a whine, syllables catching in his throat, Adamās apple bobbing as he attempts to swallow down all of the words flooding his esophagus. āYouāre so fucking perfect for me and Iām so in love with you it hurts.ā Heās in awe, completely and utterly in shock that such an innocent creatureāone with stars in their skin and oceans in their veins and all of the secrets to love and life trapped between their flower-filled lungsācan look at him with suchā¦adoration. Passion, trust, tenderness, blissātheyāre all there, swimming in your irises, dancing across your face, beating in your chest.
You love him, you love him, you love him.
And it isnāt out of pity. He isnāt some sick stray dog you found and nursed back to health and fell in love with along the way. You love him as if you had no other choice to, as if your heart would explode without him, as if the world would stop turning if he left. And, god, does he love you. He loves you like Icarus loved the sunādangerously, self-destructive and self-aware, knowing heāll never be worthy but still determined to be close with you at least once during this lifetime.
āI love you,ā he murmurs again, fingers finding your cunt and mouth attaching itself to your clit again.
Heās a starved animal, deprived of love and selfishly taking as much as he can now that heās in a home full of it. But thereās not a damn thing selfish about the way he loves you, about the way he circles his tongue around your clit, about the way hs dips his slender fingers into your throbbing heat and grazes your gummy walls, about how his other hand is touching as much of your soft skin as he canāyour breasts, your nipples, your hips, the swell of your ass, your legs, just everything, everything, everything, so he knows what dedication feels like.
Bony hips rut against your mattress in a desperate search for some form of relief, but he canāt stop himself from devouring every little piece of you until your halo falls off and youāre free from the clutches of a cruel god. You were never truly happy amongst the clouds, were you? Always forced to be something you werenāt, forced to shun anyone who was less than perfect, forced to convert anyone who didnāt believe.
But now, in this moment, with the very same face you were taught to fear is buried between your legs, when youāre stripped down to the bone and all of your galaxies are setting the room alight, when your soul is naked and free to be handled by even the most scarred of handsā¦ Youāve never felt more free.
Your fingers pull on his wintry locks in an attempt to bring him closer to you, closer to heaven and all of its promises of healing. āIāā Dabi cuts your whines off by flattening his tongue against your clit, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves and pumping his fingers faster. āF-Fuckā¦! Iām so close! Wanā cum, please, wanā cum so badly!ā
Youāre barely hanging on. Flashes of gold dance in front of your eyes and youāre almost certain itās a part of your halo falling, but who needs angels when the sinner right between your legs is the loveliest thing youāve ever seen? Heās quiveringāso overwhelmed with the trust youāve given a man with bloodied hands to not taint your precious body that he canāt help but try to give you every ounce of reassurance that yes, he is trustworthy! Heās worthy! Even with scarlet stains on ivory skin and graveyards full of regrets, heās been deemed worthy of one of heavenās most pure angels.
The fifth time you call Dabi by his name, heās ready to completely throw away his previous life in favor of everything holy and pure.
Your thighs are shaking around his head, hands tangling themselves in his hair and pulling for dear life, and he knows youāre so, so close to that final push that will permanently brand you a fellow sinner.
āTell me how much you need it, angel,ā he all but pleads against your pussy, the pace of his fingers becoming faster and sloppy, desperate, haphazard circles being drawn into your clit and hungry teeth nipping at your flesh. āTell me how much you need me. Oh my fucking god, baby, please tell me how much you need it. I need to hear it. I need it, I need you.ā
āTouya, I need you,ā you cry out. Itās a demandāgive me all of you and let me love every piece. Itās a pleaālove me as much as I love you and donāt ever leave my side. Itās a promiseāIāll wash every wound for you if it means I get to be close to you. Itās everything Dabi could have ever wished for and moreāan angel finally allowing themself to be free of their divine restraints in order to love the very same thing that might kill them. āOh, fuck, I need you. I need you, I need you, I need you.ā
You love him, you love him, you love him.
His ears are filled with your prayers and his mouth is full of your ambrosia and his chest is full of all of the suns youāve saved for him, and, for a moment, he thinks heād be okay if he died right now. Your whimpers are intoxicating, the very same harm that tempts every sinner with a tainted soul. The pleasure that has been rumbling and knotting deep within your gut finally snaps with a few licks to your clit and his knuckles brushing against your slick walls, and youāre sure that youāve officially lost your heavenly status. Itās worth it. Itās all worth seeing Dabi looking up at you with his hypnotizing topazes and smile that would make God himself weep.
Unsteady hands grab at his sharp face, heavenly fingers swiping away the rubies that have begun to cascade down his cheeks and splash on the bed sheets, a wobbly smile on cracked lips.
āYouāre crying,ā you observe, tender as you try to pull him close to you. āAre you okay?ā
But rather than answer you, Dabi takes both of your wrists in one of his hands and delicately pins them over your head, his other hand tracing your body with feather-light touches. Heās measured with his ministrations, hesitant, careful to keep all of the flaws trapped in his bones away from you and all of the galaxies in yours.
āYouāre beautiful,ā he breathes. āYouāre the most beautiful thing Iāve ever seen.ā The rubies are still falling from his topazes and all you can think of is how terribly wrong he is because heās the most beautiful thing youāve ever seen. Not the clouds in the sky, not the other angels fleeting around carelessly, not the supernovas you see every night, not the sunrises you see every morning. Nothing could measure up to how painfully beautiful it is watching Dabi finally accepting the love youāve been trying to offer him for what feels like a lifetime.
āYouāre gorgeous,ā you manage to reply, voice and heart wobbly. āYouāre handsome and beautiful andāā
Rough lips slotting against yours cuts you off, calloused fingers cupping your face, and when he finally releases his hold on you, you wrap your arms around his neck. Heās shaking like a lost child, salty tears and copper mixing with your hungry kisses and clashing against greedy tongues. Your chests heave together as sobs wrack both of your bodies, so desperate to finally be together after heaven was so determined to keep you separated. Fumbling hands rip the towel that clung to his hips off, and he sinks himself into you, his hips stuttering with every centimeter he pushes through.
The sixth time you call Dabi by his name, he understands why generations of men have gone to war to feel a fraction of what heās drowning ināearth-shattering, skin-searing, sanity-robbing fulfillment.
Eyes rolling to the back of your head, stars exploding under your skin, you dig your fingernails into his back as he snaps his hips against yours. Heās lost in you and all of your healing touches, all of the prayers echoing in your chest, all of the feathers falling down your back and glitter falling down your face. Heās completely and utterly in love with the saint underneath him, and he silently vows to protect you until his dying breath.
āA-Angel,ā he groans, his pace sloppy as he tries to chase the high only you can provide him. āOh, f-fuck, you feel so fucking good. Youāre so good to me. So goddamn perfect. I love you so fucking much. Please, donāt leave me.ā
Somehow, some way, you manage to find your voice and sob, āI love you, Touya, love you more than anything! āM not going anywhere, I promise.ā
The seventh time you call Dabi by his name, he allows the past to die and begins to set up a home for the future.
His hips stutter when the sound of his name falls on his ears, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck to bring your chest flush against his. āSay it again,ā he pleads. āSay my name again. Just like that, baby, say it again.ā
āTouya!ā
The eighth time you call Dabi by his name, he swears he sees a flash of golden gates.
He kisses the hollow of your throat, watching the way your pulse skyrockets at his touch. āAgain.ā
āTouya!ā
The ninth time you call Dabi by his name, he starts to feel galaxies form under his own skin, and itās then he knows his sins have been forgiven.
Heās drunk on purity and innocence and forgivenessāall of the things heās been denied his entire life but has found waiting for him in your ribcage. āAgain.ā
āTouya!ā
And though he knows heās just a greedy man who was lucky enough to catch the attention of God's greatest servant, he thinks he might be able to sit in heaven with you. He hopes, for just a moment, he might be able to see all of the golden gates and hear all of the harps that have haunted his dreams. His soul is still tainted with broken promises and broken families, but laying right underneath him, with the secret to healing and the key to salvation in their palm, is the very definition of love and everything right in the world.
And hovering right above you, with all of his passion and determination, with all of his flaws put on display for anyone to scrutinize, is a reminder of how beautiful and brave it is to be human in a world that only praises heavens. His cock brushes against your cervix, his lips kiss every inch of skin they can touch, his hands are buried in his hair, his voice is rough with desire and need, and nothing in heaven could ever be as breath-taking as Touya Todoroki.
āOh my fucking god,ā he moans against your skin. āI love you, angel. I need you.ā
Lost in love and all of its intricacies, you whine and buck your hips up in sync with his, grinding your clit against his pelvis and sobbing at the galaxies you both are creating. Your own heaven to get lost in, where gods canāt spy and angels canāt judge. Where forgiveness is commonplace and greed is acceptable. Where family is who you choose it to be and love isnāt a tool for manipulation. Where everything is simple and pure and right.
And although Dabi is not a simple man and does not like simple things, Touya is learning that simplicity holds its own beauty worthy of loving.
The tenth time you call Dabi by his name, heās ready to allow himself to be loved without any attachments, any suspicions, any ill willāthe past, along with Dabi, have finally laid to rest.
āI love you, Touya,ā you cry out, and heās sure that itās the most beautiful thing heās ever heard. āI love you so much!ā
Youāre close to coming undoneāhe can feel how much your pussy is clamping down on him and how your voice becomes more and more distorted by hiccups and sobs. He just needs a little more, just a little more to add the finishing touches to your heaven and build a throne out of gold. Just a little more, just so he can relish in how sweet forgiveness tastes and how good it feels to no longer bear the burden of corruption.
āI love you too,ā he whispers into your hair. āI love you more than anything in this world.ā
His thrusts are becoming sloppier and sloppier with each passing minute, and he knows heās only a few pumps away from spilling over. Cupping your face with his hands, he uses his thumb to brush away the tears streaming down your cheek and slots his lips against yours in a moment of heated passion.
āCum, angel, cum for me,ā he pleads, angling his cock brushes against scared places in you. āCum for me, cum with me, just cum, baby, cum.ā
Who wouldāve known the creation of a new heaven could feel so sinful? Clutching his body to yours as much as you can, you cry out his name followed by a string of curses as your pussy milks him for every last drop he has. His bliss follows right after yours, and he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself from groaning too loudly so as to not drown out your melodic cries. Visions of gold and white and purity flash before his eyes as cock throbs inside of you.
His body goes limp on top of yours, breath shaky and bloody stars falling from his eyes. He thinks he can feel your fingers running through his hair, but heās so high on simplicity and absolution he canāt seem to feel anything except your heart beating against his. Tender lips press against his sweaty temple, and he buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck.
āāM sorry,ā he mumbles after a beat of silence. āFor everything. I shouldāve realized sooner. Iā¦I shouldāve been stronger.ā
Delicately, you bring his face out of its hiding space to press your forehead against yours, examining the regret and hesitance dancing inside sapphire. āAll that matters,ā you whisper āis that you did realize. Iāll be your strength if youāre feeling weak. Iāll be your shoulder to cry on. Thereās nothing to worry about. All is forgiven.ā
And for the very first time in his life, Touya no longer feels like a sinner forced to bear the wrongdoings of a greedy man. He no longer feels like the product of selfishness and vanity gone awry. He no longer feels like a family secret buried in the backyard never to be spoken of or acknowledged.
Touya Todoroki feels like a man with his entire life ahead of him, an angel by his side and a heaven to come home to, and that, he thinks, is more than anyone with a past such as his can hope for.
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ā¦. do u write for shinsou??
Iām sorry, I donāt at the moment š so far, I only wrote for Shoto, Katsuki and Midoriya. But Iām hoping to expand to more characters soon!
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HELLO ! ĖĖĖ³ā¹ -- willow's house is having our first lil' collab for the summer !!
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā āMEET FRUIT : in which we write about the sticky + the sweet, with the ones we love !
all of our wonderful + talented writer pals are working on some lil' pieces to have up by the 15th of july ! so keep your eyes peeled for the fruits of their labor ā which will be ripe and ready soon enough ! ā§āĖā§ āĖ
ą©ā§āĖ BNHA :
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā deku + (green) apples -- @acerathia
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā kirishima + strawberries -- @sukisweetie
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā bakugou + apples -- @sipsteainanxiety
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā dabi + eggplant -- @willowser
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā bakugou + oranges -- @andypantsx3
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā bakugou + strawberries -- @willowser
ą©ā§āĖ GENSHIN :
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā zhongli + plums -- @firein-thesky
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā wanderer + peaches -- @lorelune
ą©ā§āĖ JJK :
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā gojo + cherries -- @stellamancer
ą©ā§āĖ HSR :
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā dan(iel) heng + haw berry -- @itoshisoup
ļ½„ļ¾āĖā ā jing yuan + peaches -- @petrichorium
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Looking for Something to Read?
This list is far from exhaustive, but is a taste of the amazing work I've read from some of the incredible writers here.
-> Please heed the individual warnings on each of the fics, respect each blogs rules and leave the author a nice reblog and comment if you like their work! <-
ā„ List Two...
Updated: 9/11/22.
Bakugo
ā¤ Retweet by @/kingkatsuki, ā¤ Spectrophilia by @/kingkatsuki, ā¤ Adoration by @/kingkatsuki, ā¤ Vindication by @/kingkatsuki, ā¤ Knockout by @/kingkatsuki, ā¤ One of them will Destroy the Other (ft. Dabi) by @/kingkatsuki, ā¤ Dirty by @/kingkatsuki.
ā¤ Toy Box by @/mindninjax, ā¤ Water Under the Bridge by @/mindninjax, ā¤ What Once was Mine (ft. Kirishima) by @/mindninjax, ā¤ Is Mine Forever (ft. Kirishima) by @/kweenkatsuki, ā¤ Like Real People Do (ft. Todoroki) @/mindninjax, ā¤ Heaven on Earth by @/mindninjax, ā¤ To Shape a Home by @/mindninjax, ā¤ Wet Dreamz by @/kweenkatsuki, ā¤ Through the Eyes of a Child (ft. Midoriya) by @/kweenkatsuki.
ā¤ Birthday Blues by @/katsukikitten, ā¤ 'Track Three' by @/katsukikitten, ā¤ Forgotten by @/katsukikitten, ā¤ Drugs and Dior by @/katsukikitten.
ā¤ Dead Salvation by @/littlesponge-fics, ā¤ The Boy Next Door by @/littlesponge-fics, ā¤ Glitter and Glowsticks by @/littlesponge-fics, ā¤ If it's not One Thing, It's Your Mother by @/littlesponge-fics.
ā¤ A Room Unused by @/bakugotrashpanda, ā¤ Demons by @/bakugotrashpanda, ā¤ Dancing on my Own by @/bakugotrashpanda, ā¤ Two Truths and a Lie by @/bakugotrashpanda.
ā¤ Rocky Mountain High by @/spellboundspectre, ā¤ Three Nights by @/alwayskatsuki, ā¤ Atmospheric by @/strafepanzer, ā¤ With the Skies as my Witness I Take Off by @/savory-script.
Kirishima
ā¤ Wrath of the Mountain God by @/katsukikitten, ā¤ Alone by @/bakumu, ā¤ Meet Me in the Afterglow by @/some-kingofgnome, ā¤ Royalty AU Snippet by @/willowser, ā¤ Locked-Up by @/kingkatsuki, ā¤ Gone to Hell (ft. Bakugo) by @/megsngrits, ā¤ Beyond Tonight (Kiribaku) by @/unbreakablekiribaku.
Kaminari
ā¤ Finish Line by @/whats-her-quirk, ā¤ 48 Hours by @/bakugotrashpanda, ā¤ Munchies by @/katanaski, ā¤ Affection by @/itsruiblue, ā¤ Daisy Chains by @/kingkatsuki, ā¤ Everything I Ever Wanted by @/kingexpl0sionmurder, ā¤ Straight Shooter by @/whats-her-quirk, ā¤ Warmth by @/afterxcare.
Other Characters
ā¤ Its the Damn Season (Todoroki) by @/mindninjax, ā¤ If I Could Keep Cool (Todoroki) by @/andypantsx3.
ā¤ A Force of Nature (Sir Nighteye + Todoroki) by @/titan-fodder.
ā¤ Finish Line (Bakugo + Sero) by @/kweenkatsuki), ā¤ Pick your Phone Up (Sero) by @/prettyboykatsuki.
ā¤ Assigned Love (Hawks) by @/bakugotrashpanda, ā¤ I can Hear my Ex Calling (Hawks) by @/nohoney,
ā¤ Vengence (Awase) by @/kingkatsuki,
ā¤ In the Forest of Hidden Things (Iida) by @/forcefully-awoken, ā¤ With or Without my Best Intentions (Iida) by @/whats-her-quirk.
ā¤ Smiles in the Rain (Midoriya) by @/miss-nebula.
ā¤ Eat your Heart Out (Shinso) by @/prettyboykatsuki.
ā¤ So My Darling (Rody) by @/itsruiblue.
ā¤ Restoration and 18th Century Lit (Shigaraki) by @/get-shiggy-with-it.
ā¤ Look at Me (Dabi) by @/touyasdoll.
ā¤ As it Was (Aizawa) by @/karikarasuno.
ā¤ Frostbite (Natsuo) by @/trafalgar-temptress.
ā¤ The Mask (Levi) by @/mindninjax, ā¤ Take Solace in the Night (Levi) by @/mindninjax,
ā¤ Mine (Armin) by @/eripeachy.
ā¤ Pyroclastic (Miche) by @/titan-fodder, ā¤ Back to Baseline (Miche) by @/titanfodder.
ā¤ The Tiniest Notion (Reiner) @/titan-fodder.
ā¤ Death Dance (Marco) by @/whats-her-quirk, ā¤ Petrichor (Marco) by @/whats-her-quirk.
ā¤ Cresendo (Erwin) by @/prettyiwa.
ā¤ Lessons in Love (Moblit) by @/ghostparty.
ā¤ Where the Fire Should Have Been (Rengoku) by @/lou-stuck.
ā¤ Six Signs (Sanemi) @/angelic-guardienne.
ā¤ Something About Us (Tomura x Gyuutaro) by @/kinjuustu.
ā¤ If Love Was Ours (Kunimi) by @/Iwaasfairy.
ā¤ 10 Months (Hanamkai x Matsukawa) by @/mintmatcha.
ā¤ Lament (Hanakaki x F!Reader + Oikawa x F!Reader) by @/mintmatcha.
ā¤ Play Ground (Fukunaga) by @/mintmatcha.
ā¤ Tipsy Sway (Hinata) by @/saetryn9, ā¤ Lie to Me (Hinata) by @/karasuqueen.
ā¤ Bite the Pillow (Goshiki) by @/delireum.
ā¤ 'Till We're Home Again (Osamu) by @/some-kindofgnome.
ā¤ Home for the Holidays (Sugawara) by @/pazumane.
ā¤ Invisible (Bokuto) by @/zzzennin.
ā¤ A Little Incentive (Daichi ft. Karasuno) by @/mindninjax.
ā¤ My Divine (Kuroo) by @/prettyboykatsuki.
ā¤ Solar Noon (Nishinoya) by @/tsumoo.
ā¤ Novelty (Tendou) by @/oh-katsuki.
ā¤ Still Stuck on You (Iwaizumi) by @tuki-tetsuya.
ā¤ I Wanna Lick the Wrapper (Ushijima) by @/strafepanzer.
ā¤ Death Becomes Her (Yuji) by @/mindninjax.
ā¤ Scarcity (Sukuna) by @/kweenkatsuki.
ā¤ God Must be Doing Cocaine (Megumi) by @/mindninjax, ā¤ Boy, Interrupted (Megumi) by @/some-kindofgnome.
ā¤ Nights Without You (Nanami) by @/devilstempt.
ā¤ Under His Skin (Geto) by @/ohhoney.
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omg please iām obsessed with your mha works SO BAD especially bakugou i literally reread them all the damn time so i was hoping youād have some recs with writing similar to yours? as in multi chaptered and whatnot !!
Hello my love!! Ahhhh thank you so much, I am honored!!! š„ŗ
I have a fic recs tag full of everything I have read and loved. I think there's like close to 220 posts in there now, and I would guess that at least a quarter are multi-chap?? This tag is always kept up to date with everything I've read, so that's the full extent of x Reader fics I can recommend you!! I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!! āØ
Other than that though, I've just started reading @bakughosts's fic call me a bad habit and I think this might be exactly the kind of thing you are looking for!! I am loving it so far!!
I think it would be a disservice to the very clean, strategic, and unique way Eli tells this story to say it's similar to mine lol. But this fic does have some of the same elements I'm proudest of in my own stories: a lil schemer Reader who has gotten in over their head, a fun, almost over-the-top situation they've found themselves in, and hints that praise kink is about to get very involved lol. It also looks to be paced the same way as my fics in terms of overall word count and chapter length, so hopefully this is exactly the type of deal you were looking for!!
But I also have to say that so far, Eli's writing is like, what my writing wants to be when it grows up!! I can't emphasize enough like the very clean, clear, and almost linear way this story is laid out, such that it's such a fast, fun, and incredibly easy read. You're gonna eat this shit up the way I have been!!
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ĖĖĖ³ā¹ ā pretty boy summer masterlist
this is the masterlist for the pretty boy summer collab, a collection of shouto-centric x reader fics! warnings for nsfw and potential dark content; minors please dni! links to each will be added as the fics are published. if you're interested in joining, check out the collab post for guidelinesāsign ups are open until june 15!
heliotrope @auraxins
as the son of the town mayor, you have certain duties to uphold. one must find a wife, sire an heir, and prepare to inherit your father's legacy. you most certainly are not supposed to fall in love with a travelling cowboy; but how can you resist a face as pretty as his? ā content: male!reader, wild west au, nsft, period-typical bigotry, star-crossed lovers, hurt/comfort, trauma bonding (more tbd)
#HEARTBURN @shibaraki
who knew your run-ins with the suspiciously accident prone pro-hero shouto would capture the hearts of the general publicāor that a bit of harmless flirting could have such inconvenient consequences? ā content: afab reader, meet-cute, social media + shipping, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff + humour
lights, camera, chaos @pikatsum
You and Shouto are forced to make your first televised appearance as a couple. What starts as an embarrassing invasion of privacy completely upends itself once you realize just how cutthroat the world of reality TV can get. āYou should know,ā said Shouto, āthis isnāt a genuine case. The ācriminalsā are all actors and my team has informed me the situation was drafted in a writing room. You will be perfectly safe.ā Somewhere, you imagined that harried production assistant was hissing into her mic, āWe can cut that, right?ā āOh.ā you said, still feeling a bit lightheaded as you flipped through the ācase file,ā sucking down a depressingly-bland smoothie of blended greens, protein powder, and the barest hint of strawberry, āThatāsā¦ good.ā ā content: tags pending...
the sun glares @bkgpackets
As a college student, youāre always looking for some quick cash to last you the semester. Luckily for you, pro hero Shouto is in desperate need for a temporary personal assistant for a few months. Your initial plan of keeping your head down is knocked off course when he begins to request stranger and stranger items, like takeout with your company? Youāre persistent but keeping to yourself proves to be difficult when his eyes take you in like a moth to an open flame, youād run any light in the city to answer his calls. ā content: pro hero shouto x college student/personal assistant reader, shouto is a menace, fluff, angst, hurt/no comfort
rank em up @whatisreggieshortfor
Ashido and Uraraka just want to play a silly lil game with you. Who says they canāt have ulterior motives? ā content: what's ranking among friends, established relationship/not-so-secret relationship, chat fic, sfw
Under the Festival Lights @kimkaelyn
After a mission finishes earlier than expected, you and Shouto take advantage of the sudden free time to enjoy the local festival. Unbeknownst to you, it is a lover's festival and you happen to be harboring feelings for your dual-haired companion. ā content: pro hero au, pro hero fem reader
Nightswimming @threadbaresweater
summary pending... ā content: shouto x f!reader, summer romance vibes, no quirks au, most likely sfw + extra heavy petting
one night (fruit) stand @mangostarjam
You wake up from a one night stand with the most gorgeous guy in the world and leave thinking you'll never see him again. So why does he keep showing up at your farmer's market stall? ā content: pro heroes, aged up, fluff, misunderstandings, Just Some Guy/quirkless reader, misunderstandings, more tags tba
Best Intentions @knightofwands-upright
You know him like the back of your hand, only something is off about your relationship. Shouto has never taken you on a public date, posted to social media about you, or let you meet his family. How could you be so far apart but so close at the same time? Are you content with being a secret? ā content: mature rating, nsft elements, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
three-part honesty @seiwas
honesty, you've realized, is shoutoās most cunning traitāa quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. ā content: sfw, f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!reader, post-canon, aged-up pro-hero!shouto and assistant!reader, reader wears a dress, workplace romance, development of feelings, confessions, boss/assistant dynamics, co-workers to lovers (ish), fluff.
title tbd @lees-chaotic-brain
summary pending... ā content: body swap au, more tags tba
title tbd @birinboom
summary pending... ā content: tags pending...
title tbd @bluebird-in-the-breeze
summary pending... ā content: tags pending...
title tbd @harbingerofchaosposts
summary pending... ā content: tags pending...
title tbd @foxboot
summary pending... ā content: tags pending...
loads of fun @andypantsx3
After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure whyābut when he catches you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. ā content: nsfw, pro hero au, domesticity kink, gn + afab reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional sex
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