#hate to feel like my body is falling apart with no recourse simply because the wait time to see a specialist is so ridic

[augustinthewater1995]

Praying this immunology appointment I'm supposed to have today is actually helpful/a doctor decides to finally do something for me

[cupidcreates]

Hi, I hope the last day of 2020 will be a success for you. I have a request for yandere Dabi and / or Chisaki when they hear that their dear, affectionate s/o call them "love" or "happiness of my life"

Affectionate Names

With Yanderes Dabi and Overhaul

(Oh my fucking GOD beech I’m SO SORRY this took LITERAL MONTHS to post. I promise I’m never gonna let an ask sit for that long again holy crap. I really hope this was worth the wait bestie, I tried really hard to make it cute for you nonny. Hope you like it!)

Touya Todoroki - Dabi

Disgust, Anger, Hatred, Fear, Dabi’s used to these emotions playing across the faces of the people he interacts with. He knows how he appears to others, how his very visage causes visceral reactions of discomfort in others. He’s fine with that, in fact he revels in it.

If it’s not the abject loathing of a stranger than it’s the cool detachment of his allies. Dabi finds a sort of warmth, even an odd sense of comfort in their gazes. It’s distant, reserved, and to the point; Dabi never has to question what his allies want from him or what their intentions are.

The indifference many find cold is rather temperate to Dabi. 

The fair weather is what he likes. Nothing too cold, nothing too hot, nothing can be resurrected from mild memories.

Dabi was content with this treatment.

Until he met you.

It had been a long time since anything stoked the kind of fire in his chest like you did. Heat typically coincided with anger, but you didn’t make him angry.

That’s not to say he didn’t mistake it for anger at first. He definitely wanted you dead, seemingly at random, for a few days after seeing you pass by him on the street.

But after a while of reflection he realized you didn’t ignite his hate the way thoughts of his family, his father, or society did.

No, this was a completely different feeling, something brand new.

Something to be explored, immediately.

There was something about you he needed, something you had that he had to get for himself.

And Dabi’s not one to not get his way.

He set out to have you, and have you he did. It took longer than he might have liked (though, anything but immediate compliance is too long for Dabi) and you put up a better fight than he would have expected but he did eventually get you swept away from your previous life.

In his mind he won you over.

In your mind, and in reality, he stole you away from your home in the dead of night and trapped you in an undisclosed location until you eventually broke and developed Stockholm syndrome.

After all, he wasn’t mean to you. He kept you fed and watered, the basement stayed a nice mild temperature, and the rats that scuttled about were actually kind of cute when you looked at them the right way.

You were eventually happy, which is what Dabi wanted as it finally allowed him to get close to you.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted from you. He’d started by simply sitting by your side (once you had calmed down enough to let him do so without screaming) then he progressed to holding you (awkward as it was at first) and once he could trust that you wouldn’t run off he allowed you free roam of the hideout.

Free roam as in you were attached to his hip.

He brought you nearly everywhere, as if he was a child and you were his favorite stuffed bear. He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed you around, but he figured he’d find out if he gave it enough time.

And it’s not like you were trouble, you were actually very helpful, getting him out of more than a few scrapes and sticky situations.

He eventually surmised that this, whatever you two had going on, was something like the affection he missed out on in his youth. It was nice to hold your hand, nice to sit you in his lap as he listened to Shigaraki drone on about his next plan, nice to spend a night with you on the rooftops. 

The time he spent with you didn’t strike a chord in him like his first encounter with you did, but he was content.

He could only ever be content.

He didn’t need anything stronger than baseline serenity.

Or so he thought.

He thought right up until the night he was sitting alone in his room (room being a generous term for the hovel hole in the wall he kept his nearly flattened mattress in) dissociating after a very long day.

Dabi tried not to dissociate frequently, it was best to stay aware of your surroundings when you’re a wanted criminal, but when he did allow himself to fall into this state he was typically here for hours. Nearly comatose as he fled back into his mind.

You knocking softly at the door went completely unnoticed, in fact he didn’t even realize you were there until you had entered the room and sat next to him on the mattress.

Your presence took him completely by surprise and shocked him out of his stupor. It took him a moment to recover his composure and re-mask, and in those several seconds with his guard down you saw Dabi’s face more youthful and innocent than you ever had.

You’d asked him a question, he was aware of that much, but the only thing he caught, the only thing he registered was the word at the very end of your sentence.

“Are you okay, love?”

Love

Rather forcefully Dabi was taken back to his childhood; before his quirk manifested, before his siblings were born to replace him, before his own family turned on him in favor of his youngest brother. It had been so long since someone had called him love; so long since his mother would come into his room early in the morning and brush his bangs out of his face, softly calling to him to wake him up and ready him for the day.

Having already been in a vulnerable state, the name cut through him like a knife. Shaken to his core by the memories ripped fresh in his mind he was, for the first time in his life, grateful that his tear ducts had been burned away so long ago.

He gave nothing away, his face already masked up again and his demeanor its typical cool indifference. He spoke to you as he always had, the tremble in his voice only perceptible to him.

He pushed his head into your shoulder and was silent for a while, just taking in you presence, before offhandedly telling you that he didn’t mind if you called him that again. In private of course.

Love

He thought he could get used to that.

Kai Chisaki - Overhaul

Open affection was not only not necessary in Chisaki’s life but also abjectly disgusting.

Perhaps he never really had good examples of tender kindness and open endearment as a child. Maybe he simply couldn’t comprehend affection in the way others could.

In any case, physical fondness and other such displays of the sentiment were completely foreign to Chisaki.

He didn’t mind this, he had much more pressing matters to attend to. Having a partner of any sort other than business would only slow him down.

Oh but you just had to come along, didn’t you? Had to go nosing around where you didn’t belong, a foolish venture already, and then you had to be incompetent's enough to get yourself caught waist deep in his business.

It didn’t matter, you didn’t matter, whatever you knew about what he was doing didn’t mean a damn thing. All he had to do now was keep you quiet.

For good.

He had to kill you, this much he knew. He’d have no issue doing it, after all who were you anyway? A nosy little cashier at a run-down shop on the brink of bankruptcy. You had no family, if you did they certainly didn’t care about you if the state of and neighborhood your apartment was located in was anything to go by.

You were a threat to the sanctity of his mission, a potential interference to his operation. Simply put you had to go. This was fine, nothing personal. Just business.

But oh you just had to didn’t you? Had to look at him with the most pathetically pleading eyes he’s ever seen as you begged him to let you live. You already knew what he was up to, undoubtedly you understood the torture and death he willingly inflicted upon others. You knew the pleading would do you no good, surely you knew your death was inevitable.

Except that it wasn’t, was it.

Because you had to, you had to come along with a face too sweet to be atomized. Had to, somehow, worm your way into his brain and stop him from dismantling your upper body.

Was this your quirk? Were you somehow influencing him? It had to be something of your doing, the tightness in his chest and warmth in his stomach was something of your doing.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring himself to destroy something so precious, so pure even. He just couldn’t do it.

But no obstacle comes without workarounds, and he didn’t have an underground labyrinth of empty rooms to not be used.

So if killing you was out of the picture, his only recourse was to keep you hidden away. At least long enough for him to figure out a permanent solution for you.

Living toys are so much more fun to play with anyway.

He kept you holed up in a secret room, watched your every move as months passed. You were very interesting to him, in fact he found almost all of his (precious little) spare time consumed by you. He made sure to visit you daily, though your fear kept you mostly mute at the beginning.

Once you were sure he wasn’t going to obliterate you, he noticed you relaxed and even opened up a little bit. You even allowed him to touch you gently a few times and, to his surprise, he never broke out after his skin made contact with yours.

He figured you must have been sent to him, by some divine or cosmic intervention. You grew on him quickly and he made sure to pamper you in any way he could, moving you to a larger, more luxurious wing of the lair and making sure you had three meals a day of only the best quality food.

One morning he’d decided to visit you earlier than usual, walking down the long hallway towards your room and considering the topic of conversation today.

As he neared your room he overheard you speaking with the associate assigned to your meal delivery today. Pausing just outside the door he caught the tail end of your conversation.

“...so lonely until Chisaki visits. The room is lovely but he’s truly the only happiness of my rather dull life.”

Chisaki considered this for a moment. Perhaps it was a clever deception? Something for him to intentionally overhear and cause him to lower his guard?

Couldn’t be though, he’d never visited you this early, if you wanted to deceive him you’d have waited until your evening meal to speak these words.

A sudden, rather disconcerting warmth overtook Chisaki; Like a flower of light suddenly blooming in his chest he was overtaken by the urge to abandon everything and stay by your side until he withered away and his bones turned to dust.

Regaining his sanity he shook the thought from his head. He’d worked too hard for too long to let go of this now. No, he’d have to continue with his operation, the consequences of letting go now would be too great.

He was, however, sorry to hear that your life thus far had been dull. Had you said this months ago he would have scoffed, because of course the life of a cashier was dull; but now, after months of you having been here, it should have improved.

The only assumption left for him to make was that this must have been his doing. Fair enough on his part, as he couldn’t be sure trusting you was a wise idea.

But if this was how you truly felt about him, maybe he could consider letting you have greater roam of the property. He might even allow you time outside.

Only if you brought your happiness along, of course.

[giraffles]

We Kiss The Dusk Goodnight - Chapter 2

this is an A/B/O au fic

AW YIS, here it is, more omegaverse au. sadly no porn yet. just awkward feelings and things being kinda Gay(tm). 

We Kiss The Dusk Goodnight (Bulge/Bruce/Manabu)

Bruce was going to kill him.

you can also read chapter two on AO3!

(chapter one)

Bruce was going to kill him. It just wasn't fair. From day one, Manabu had been taking his world and turning it upside down. No, that wasn't the right metaphor; more like he took his being, his reason, his defenses, and threw them out of the nearest airlock. Working with Manabu on a daily basis was hard enough, and now there was this. It didn't matter that it wasn't really his fault. Bruce could still be mad at him. "You're more trouble than you're worth." He grumbled to the lump under the covers. Manabu's head peeked out, and he shuffled the bedding around before burrowing back into it. Bruce understood on a logical level the nesting instinct, but it was still weird as hell to watch. " 'M sorry," was all Manabu offered, "I'm always messing up." Which was only half true, because Manabu must have had lady luck herself on his side for the amount of reckless things he managed to survive. He didn't 'mess up' so much as take the unorthodox route whenever possible, disobeyed half the orders given to him, and would probably cause Bruce to have a heart attack before he was thirty. Yet he always came out in once piece and with the day saved. It was infuriating. And god, if he wouldn't take a bullet for the kid. It went beyond the duties of a teammate or the selfish desire to die first, but he would never, ever say that. Manabu had already wormed his way in, prying through his walls and vitriol without even trying. Without even knowing. He had absentmindedly snuck up on Bruce, who hadn't noticed until it was too late to bail. The more he dug his heels in against it, the deeper he fell, and now he was trapped in a room with Manabu. An omega. Alone. He had half a mind to go drown himself in the bathroom sink. But that would be abandoning his post, and dealing with Schwanhelt's disappointment would also be too much to bear. So stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place, Bruce dragged a chair over instead. Manabu whined softly. "What do you want?" He snapped before really thinking about what would come out of his mouth, and Manabu pawed at his arm. "Bruce," he whined again, "Make it stop." "You're delirious." Because if Manabu had been in the right state of mind, he would never pick Bruce. Only someone truly desperate would look at him and think alpha material. It took all his self control not to punch Manabu. "I am not," he protested, latching on to Bruce, "I like you." "Let go," Manabu was heat-drunk, there was no other explanation for it, and temptation was so hard to ignore when it literally pulled at him, "Fucking hell, Manabu. Get off of me." The harsh words caused him to relent, releasing Bruce's arm as he returned to his blanket nest to sulk and look hurt. Now that really wasn't fair; those reproachful eyes shouldn't make Bruce feel so guilty. It's for the best for both of them. He doesn't get too close, and Manabu doesn't get hurt in more ways than one. Everyone wins. So why did he feel like he was losing everything? "I knew it," came the mournful voice, "You hate me." "I never said that," Even though Bruce had done their relationship few favors over the months they've been shipmates, "Stop being an idiot." Sirius Platoon isn't just a team of officers, a collection of people haphazardly thrown together in the line of duty. They're a family, or at least as close to one as Bruce has ever come, and they're stuck together whether they like it or not. So he has to be abrasive, aggressive, a steel wall against everything and everyone, because if he falls apart then they'll have no defense. No recourse against the harsh realities of space. Worst yet, they could die, leaving Bruce once again on the sidelines. So he'll take care of them. Just in his own way. "I can go find you someone if you're that desperate," he growled, "But leave me out of it." "But I don't want someone else," Manabu complained, "I want you." It was only his years of training and discipline from countless battles that kept him from walking out the door. This was crazy. This was absolutely ridiculous. "Manabu," he tried to put that domineering alpha tone in his voice, but it only half worked, "Shut up." And finally, Manabu was quiet, though he continued to look at Bruce forlornly. He would not feel sorry for him. He would not. Except he did, and, god, did Bruce want to say fuck it and face the consequences later, throw all caution to the wind without worrying about what it meant. Manabu smelled like sex and something vaguely sweet and everything he'd ever wanted and goddamn it-- "What are we supposed to do with you?" He groaned into his hands, "Don't even think about answering that." "I wouldn't mind," Manabu said dreamily, "I wouldn't mind if it was you and the captain." "You really have no idea what you're saying, do you?" Manabu pouted at him. "I do too." Bruce had some scathing reply at the ready, but then the door slid open. Yuki floated in, long and graceful, yet possessing an air of moving almost too perfectly. Of course he'd gotten used to it by now, but there was always that subtle reminder that her body was more metal than anything else, that technically she was only highly sophisticated programming fitted with a pretty face. She's a person of course, more human than many of  flesh and blood he's met in his life, but she's still her own thing. An entity outside mortal bounds. In that moment he's jealous of the way Yuki was the only unaffected one in the room. "I said I'm fine!" "Manabu," Schwanhelt broke in, voice low in warning, "Let her look at you." Bruce had no idea just how he did that, lacing words with unyielding force, commanding the utmost respect so effortlessly. Even Bruce had to pause to take notice when he spoke like that. It was probably why Schwanhelt was captain of one of the most respected platoons in the fleet, and had been promoted relatively young. (That, and the fact that the previous captain had met a sudden and tragic end. But that was years before Bruce came to the SDF, and Schwanhelt doesn't like to talk about it, so he doesn't ask.) Manabu simmered down almost instantly. "There's not much I can do," Yuki said as she rummaged around in her medical case, "But I do have an emergency suppressant." "What will that do?" "Delay it, just for a day or two. Though I can't guarantee it will work. Manabu, can I see your arm?" It made sense, since failing meds is what had started this whole mess in the first place. Manabu's biology was actively working against all of them, but if they were lucky, it would knock him out long enough for his heat to pass. Bruce was less than hopeful; the odds were against them all, and his personal luck was never that good. There was a reason David won most of their bets. Bruce went to stand by his captain, who didn't bother to hide his troubled expression. If Manabu hadn't been their responsibility and first priority, he would have kicked everyone else out long before now. As it was, being close to both of them was suffocating, and he hated the curling fire that kept trying to drag him down, to act on impulses instead of cautious calculations. He hadn't gotten this far by taking stupid risks or jumping into situations unprepared; yet even in this, Manabu's devil-may-care attitude was wearing off on him, instilling thoughts of reckless abandon. Bruce had never considered himself a proper alpha, but it was getting harder to deny those smoldering feelings. "What are we going to do?" He whispered. Schwanhelt only shook his head. "There, I've done all I can," Yuki proclaimed as she closed her case with a snap, "Please keep an eye on him and tell me if he gets any worse." "That's it?" No, that couldn't be it. Manabu may have rolled himself back into the blankets and would soon be asleep, but who knew how long that would last before he was a pining mess again. "It's dangerous to give him more than one dose," She explained, "Though becoming heatsick is also dangerous. You should have someone lined up for a worst case scenario." The way she could talk about such things in straightforward way, with no hesitation, had Bruce choking on a sufficient response. "What, are we supposed to go get a hooker?" Schwanhelt smacked his shoulder and grumbled at him. Yuki was unfazed. "That would work. Or, I could come back, I still have my programming from when--" "That's quite alright, Yuki," Schwanhelt interjected quickly, "Though the thought is appreciated." "I don't want Yuki," came the sleepy mumble, "I want you guys." Schwanhelt gave him a questioning glance, but all he could do was throw his hands up. How was he to respond to that? Oh, by the way, their heat-drunk shipmate kept propositioning him for sex while the captain was off retrieving the medical officer? It wasn't exactly dinner conversation. And that was without acknowledging his own complicated thoughts on the matter. "You know where to find me." Yuki nodded before flitting from the quarters. Schwanhelt thanked her again, and he locked the door after it shut. Bruce knew that it was to keep people out, but also had a feeling it was as much to keep Manabu in. Schwanhelt didn't say anything more, simply striding to the bed and making sure Manabu was securely nestled in the blankets. Bruce could taste the awkward tension in the space about them, made partially from uncertainty and partially from desires unfulfilled. With sudden clarity he understood why omegas could and had sparked so many conflicts, so many petty grievances blown out of proportion. How was anyone supposed to be rational in a situation like this? Out of all the people on this goddamn base, why did it have to be him? "He likes you, you know." Schwanhelt commented offhandedly. As if Bruce couldn't have caught the fondness in his eyes, the way he smoothed the covers down. Trying to compartmentalize whatever it was he had with his captain was hard enough on a good day, and now he had to unpack the rest of this too. "I noticed," he mustered after a long silence, "But what about us?" It was accusatory, but his emotions were already too raw for it to be anything else. They had a good thing going, a thing that he, dare he say it, liked, and Bruce wasn't keen on just cutting it off. "You were the one who insisted on no lasting attachments." Alright, so that was true enough. It has been to protect both of them, so it wasn't as though he could suddenly decide to be selfish. "I'm just saying," Schwanhelt continued, "That you should take the opportunity to be happy." The man was so quiet, so sincere, that it nearly tore his heart in two. Damn both of them to hell. Since when did they get to decide what's best for him? As if they all operated in a void, separate from each other. He doesn't believe in things like fate and destiny, he's fought too long and hard to leave anything up to an outside power, but people affect each other. It's gravity, pushing and pulling and entrapping, something Bruce knows all too well. They can't just wind their way into every fiber of his being and then just leave him hollow. It's still his life, and he should get a say in how he suffers during it. "To hell with that," he finally replied, "I'm pretty sure he wants you, too." "He doesn't know what he's saying--" "And neither do you." "Bruce." "That's my name," he folded his arms and looked his captain dead in the eye, "Don't wear it out." "Bruce," Schwanhelt's tone turned towards exasperation, "This is serious." "And I'm taking it seriously." Schwanhelt ran a hand over his face. "It's not up to us, anyway." That much was true. The point would be moot anyway once Manabu woke up and fled, if he knew was was best for him. Because he could do so much better than either of them. Or, at least, he would be easier to reason with when he wasn't heat'drunk and desperate. Manabu wasn't know for this stellar choices even when he was in full control of himself. This would be no exception, even if it would have been easier just to let him stumble into disaster on his own. "Are we going to sit here and play guard, then?" "Well, yes. Although you don't have to stay if you don't want to--" "I'm not leaving you," Bruce muttered, "You shouldn't have to deal with his bullshit alone." Schwanhelt gives him a weary smile, and he's lost.