#how many notes you get how popular you are

[eu-nicola]

enemies

summary: the love-hate relationship between Rafe and you

warnings: small mention of violence

word counter: 4151

author's note: english is not my first language

The first time you met Rafe Cameron, you were barely six years old. You clearly remember how his stepmother, Rose, welcomed you into her home with a perfect smile, while your mother insisted that you play with him and Sarah so that you wouldn���t be alone. 

The Cameron house was as intimidating as its miniature owner. Rafe was nine years old and had an attitude that made him seem much older. He looked down at you from the top of the stairs as if you were an intruder, someone who didn’t deserve to be in his space. 

“She’s the Davies’ daughter?” he asked in that mocking tone that would become his trademark. 

“Yes, and I want you to be nice to her.” Rose ruffled his hair before turning to you, but Rafe’s gaze was already fixed on your shoes, which were muddy from playing outside before coming in. 

“I hope she doesn’t touch anything, Rose.” His voice was dry, as if he was already tired of you before he really met you. 

From that day on, your relationship with him was marked by constant clashes. Every visit to the Cameron house felt like a cold war disguised as childish games. He always found ways to make you feel out of place, like the time he took your doll from your hands while you were playing with Sarah and threw it across the garden.

“If you don’t know how to play well, don’t play.” That phrase of his stuck in your mind.

In adolescence, the gap between you grew wider. While Rafe became the most popular boy among the Kooks, you began to spend more time with the Pogues. Your visits to the Cameron house became less frequent, and when they coincided, things always ended badly.

“Look at you, you’re a Pogue now.” His tone was always hurtful, accompanied by that arrogant smile that got on your nerves.

“And you’re still the same idiot as always.” Your response was almost automatic, as if after so many years the discussions between you were a rehearsed routine.

But the real problem wasn't just his words. It was the way he always found a moment to annoy you. During a beach party hosted by Kooks, for example, Rafe made sure your drink ended up spilled all over your new dress.

But it wasn't all enmity, when the search for gold began, your world became more complicated. You spent your days with the Pogues, planning, looking for clues, and trying to avoid Rafe, who seemed willing to do anything to get the treasure. The tension between you, which was already high, skyrocketed. It wasn't just childish enmity now; it was real danger.

Rafe had no limits. His eyes were always filled with that spark of arrogance, but behind it was something darker, something that made him unpredictable. Despite that, you never imagined you'd find yourself in the position you found yourself in one afternoon in the dense woods surrounding the Outer Banks.

You were following a trail of marks on the trees along with JJ and Kiara when you heard a noise. You broke away from the group, promising them you’d be back quickly. What you found was Rafe, kneeling beside a steep slope, holding his leg in a wince of pain. The ground beneath him was wet, almost muddy, and it looked like he might slide down any second. 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and pretend you hadn’t seen him. After all, Rafe wouldn’t have done the same for you, would he? But another part, that part you always tried to stifle, knew you couldn’t just leave him there. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe snapped at you as you cautiously approached. His voice was heavy with distrust, but there was also a hint of relief he tried to hide. 

“I should be asking you the same thing. What happened?” You couldn’t keep the tone of your voice from being harsh. After all, he had done a lot of things that warranted your hatred. 

“I slipped. My leg… I can’t move it.” His face was pale, and his hands shook slightly as he tried to brush away the mud that covered his pants.

There was a long silence. You could have left him there. You could have turned and gone back to the Pogues. But something inside you wouldn’t let you.

“This doesn’t mean I owe you anything,” you said as you crouched down beside him.

Rafe looked at you in disbelief. “Are you helping me?”

“Shut up and don’t make it harder, Cameron.”

You offered him your arm and helped him up, leaning his weight on you as you slowly moved forward. It was an awkward process; his size made each step harder. But there was something odd about the silence you shared, a momentary truce amidst all the hostility.

When you finally dropped him off somewhere safe, away from danger, Rafe looked at you with a mix of wounded pride and something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not going to thank you,” he said at last, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your brow. You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait.” His tone was softer than you’d heard before, almost vulnerable. You turned slowly to look at him.

“What?” you asked, tired.

“Did you see anything?” His question was direct, his gaze piercing.

You understood immediately. Rafe wasn’t just hurt; he was there for something related to gold. Maybe he’d found a lead, something he didn’t want the Pogues to know about. You could have told him the truth, that you’d noticed a map in his pocket when you helped him, but you chose to lie.

“No, I didn’t see anything.” Your voice was firm, although inside you felt a small knot of guilt.

Rafe seemed to relax a little, although he still looked at you with distrust.

Later, when the Pogues found a clue that fit too well with the area where you had seen Rafe, he understood what you had done. Someone, perhaps Sarah, told him that you were near the area when you separated from the group. It didn’t take much for him to put the pieces together.

The next time you saw him, his expression was completely different. There was no vulnerability or truce anymore, only fury.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he snapped at you, coming dangerously close.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to remain calm, although you knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You lied to me. You took what was mine!” His voice was filled with rage, and though you knew it was unfair, there was something in his eyes that made you feel a pang of remorse.

“I don’t owe you anything, Rafe.” Your response was cold, though inside you felt more affected than you wanted to admit.

Rafe was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on you. Finally, he took a step back, but not before making his feelings clear.

“Don’t ever cross my path again, Pogue.”

That was the beginning of a new phase in your feud, more bitter and personal than ever.

Your relationship with Rafe Cameron had reached a point where hatred seemed to be the only thing that united you. After your “betrayal” during the search for gold, any vestige of truce between you vanished. Although you would never admit it, there was something inexplicable that brought you back to square one: an enmity filled with tension, resentment, and something deeper that neither of you understood.

One of the worst fights you had occurred during a rainy night in the Outer Banks. The Pogues had been following Rafe, convinced that they had found another important lead to the gold. The chase led them to an old abandoned port, where you finally confronted them face to face.

“Always after me, aren’t you?” Rafe looked at you from the shadow of a warehouse, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead. The sound of the rain beat hard against the metal roof, but nothing could drown out the intensity of his voice.

“You have no right to that gold, Cameron.” Your words came out loaded with defiance as you clenched your fists. You knew you were probably playing with fire by facing him, but something in you couldn’t stop.

“And you are?” he replied, taking a step towards you. His eyes, dark under the rain, were filled with rage. “What makes you think you’re better than me, Pogue?.”

“For starters, I don’t try to kill people for him.” Your words made him laugh, a dry, bitter laugh that made you feel a chill.

“You think so?” Rafe leaned a little towards you, his voice lowering to an almost whispering tone. “You know perfectly well that you would do anything to protect your own, too. We’re not that different, even if it pains you to admit it.”

The argument soon turned physical. He tried to take the map from you, and you fought back with all your might. It was as if you were both so consumed by rage that nothing else mattered. You fell to the ground, feeling the cold wetness of the cement against your back, as Rafe tried to hold you down.

“Let me go, you moron!” you screamed, kicking him in the stomach.

“Give me the damn map!” he roared, clinging to your wrist.

For a moment, you thought it would all end there, that one of you wouldn’t walk away from this fight. But something changed. Rafe looked you straight in the eyes, and for a moment, his grip softened. He looked confused, as if he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t keep hurting you.

Finally, he let go of you and stood up, breathing heavily.

“I can’t do this.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

“What…?” you were speechless, still lying on the ground.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, taking a few steps away from you.

“Go away. Take the damn map and go away.”

But not everything always ended in a truce. There was another time when it was you who had to decide between helping him or letting him face the consequences of his own actions. It was during a smuggling operation that Rafe had organized to finance his obsession with gold. You found him cornered in an alley, with a group of men who clearly did not have friendly intentions.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped at you when you appeared at the end of the alley. He was bleeding from a cut on his eyebrow, but he still maintained that defiant attitude.

“I saw your truck nearby.” You approached cautiously, analyzing the situation.

The men paid you no attention at first, but soon realized you could be a problem. One of them advanced towards you with a menacing smile.

“Another friend of yours, Cameron?” he said mockingly.

“Get out of here, Pogue. I don’t need your help.” Rafe’s voice was firm, but there was something in his gaze that made you stay.

Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t just leave him there. You picked up a rock from the ground and threw it hard at one of the men. It was enough to distract them and give Rafe a chance to fight back.

You helped him escape, though as soon as you turned the corner, Rafe turned to you, furious.

“Why do you keep butting into my business?” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Because I’m not like you, Rafe. I can't let someone die, even if they're an idiot like you.” Your answer made him let out an exasperated sigh, but he didn't say anything else.

In the end, it was always the same. They hurt each other, they hated each other, they betrayed each other... but they also always found a way to forgive each other. You didn't know why you did it. Maybe it was because you saw something in Rafe that others didn't see, or maybe it was because deep down you knew you weren't as different from him as you wanted to believe.

The only thing you knew for sure was that, no matter how hard you tried to hate him, something always made you go back to him. And the worst of all was that Rafe seemed to feel the same way.

Rafe Cameron drove you crazy in every possible way and that made you uncomfortable and annoyed, despite always finding gold on your path, you also found it on your path when you were calm, reminding yourself that you couldn't get rid of it even if you wanted to.

There were nights when the air was so thick that it was hard to breathe. The humidity was sticking your clothes to your skin, but it wasn't just the weather that made you feel this way; it was him.

Rafe Cameron always managed to find you, even when you didn't want to be found. His mere presence seemed to charge the atmosphere with an almost palpable tension, something that only existed between the two of you. Like that time on the dock, under the dim light of a broken streetlight. You were alone, waiting for JJ and Pope, when you heard their footsteps, firm, sure, approaching.

Your body tensed before you turned around. There he was, standing, with that arrogant posture that you detested so much. His messy hair and clenched jaw gave you every reason to hate him more than you already did. But as you looked at him, feeling his gaze sweep over every detail of you, there was something different, something that made you stop.

There was anger in his gaze, yes, but there was also something deeper, something dark that you recognized because you felt it too. Your hands clenched into fists, not because you wanted to hit him—though that was of course a tempting option—but because you wanted to stop the impulse that made you think about getting any closer than necessary.

It was a constant tug-of-war. One moment you wanted to push him into the water, make sure he disappeared from your life forever. But then, a part of you wanted to do the complete opposite, you wanted to get closer, erase the distance between you, and find out if that tension could transform into something more.

Rafe leaned against one of the dock posts, looking at you with a mix of defiance and curiosity. Everything about him seemed designed to provoke you. His gaze fixed, his shoulders relaxed but ready to move at the slightest hint of threat. It was so unbearably irritating, and yet, there was something you couldn’t ignore.

The wind blew hard, and you felt a chill run down your spine, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was that unmistakable feeling of being on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t control.

You wanted to kill him. For all the times he had made you feel less than, for every hurtful word, for every betrayal and fight. But at the same time, you wanted to get close enough to know if that spark you felt between you could catch fire.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Instead, you took a deep breath, ignoring how your heart was pounding. You turned your back on him, your steps firm on the wood of the dock as you walked away. You knew that if you stayed one more second, the line between hate and desire could blur forever. And you weren't ready to face what that meant.

You felt him stand still, watching you as you left. You didn't need to look back to know that that feeling would continue to haunt you, just as much as he did.

And you were right, a few days later that line blurred.

There was a storm that night, one of those that seemed to split the sky in two with each flash of lightning. The rain was pounding on the roof of the old abandoned cabin where you had taken shelter, trying to escape the chaos that the Pogues and Rafe had caused in the last gold hunt. Your hands were shaking with rage, not so much from the cold, but from the frustration of knowing that Rafe had, once again, gotten you into this situation.

You were alone, at least that's what you thought, until you heard the door slam open. You turned quickly, looking for something to defend yourself with, but seeing that unmistakable figure enter soaked to the bone, your heart stopped.

Rafe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you thought, although you didn't bother to say it out loud.

He slammed the door behind him hard, shaking off the water like a rabid dog. His dark hair, and his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, as if he had run a marathon. His gaze met yours almost immediately, filled with that mix of fury and something more that always seemed to burn between you.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t look away either. There was something about him that night, something different. It wasn’t just the usual anger you two shared, or even the constant tension that seemed to surround you like a force field. It was something rawer, more real.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the roar of the storm outside. You felt the air in the cabin grow thicker, charged with electricity, as if lightning was about to strike right there.

“What? Are you just going to stand there staring at me like an idiot?” You had crossed your arms, trying to hide the trembling that ran through your body.

He didn’t answer, but he took a step towards you, slow, deliberate. You could feel the intensity of his gaze fixed on you, as if he could see past the facade you always tried to maintain. Your heart began to beat faster, and you hated that he had that effect on you.

“Rafe, don’t start,” you warned yourself mentally, even though you weren’t sure what it was you wanted to avoid.

But he kept coming closer. You could see every detail of his face now: the raindrops sliding down his jaw, the way his lips were pressed together as if he were holding something back. His presence filled the small space between you, and suddenly, the hatred you’d always felt for him didn’t seem enough to explain what was happening.

You didn’t know who made the first move. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but in an instant, the distance disappeared. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer to him with a force that made you gasp. His mouth crashed into yours with an intensity that left you breathless, as if all that pent-up rage had finally found an outlet.

Your hands clutched at his wet shirt, trying to push him away and pull him in at the same time. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t tender. It was an explosion of everything you had bottled up for years: the hatred, the frustration, the attraction that neither of you wanted to admit.

You felt his body press against yours, trapping you between him and the wall of the cabin. His breath was hot against your skin, mixing with the cold of the storm that continued to rage outside. His every move seemed to call out something you didn’t know you’d been holding back, and for a moment, you let yourself go.

But it was only a moment.

Suddenly, you pulled away, your hands on his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“This… can’t happen.” Your voice was barely a whisper, shaky but firm.

He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you said it all. There was something in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, something vulnerable that completely disarmed you.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside the cabin, all was calm. Rafe didn’t try to come closer again, and you didn’t dare look him in the eye as you turned away, your heart pounding so hard you felt like it might explode.

After that night in the cabin, something changed, though you both tried to act like it hadn’t. That first time was an accident, you kept telling yourself, something driven by rage and storm. But what happened next made it clear that there was something more, something that went far beyond hatred or tension.

It wasn’t long before you met again. It was in one of the alleys behind The Wreck, where you had hidden yourself after a fight with Sarah and the others. Rafe appeared as if the universe was conspiring against you. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you with that mix of arrogance and determination that seemed to be part of his essence.

“You’re not here to worry about me, Cameron. What do you want?” you had snapped harshly, crossing your arms as if that physical barrier could protect you.

He didn’t answer right away, but the glint in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. What followed was just as impulsive as the first time: his lips finding yours with a burning urgency, your hands clinging to his shirt as if the world could fall apart at that moment and you wouldn’t care.

Logic disappeared when you were with him. All you had left were pure emotions: desire, rage, need. In those moments, you didn't think about the past or what was coming next. You didn't think about the fights, the betrayals, or the reasons why you were supposed to hate him. There was only his hands on your skin, the sound of his breathing, and the way he managed to make you forget everything else.

But the next day, there was always something that reminded you why you hated him. Like that time you saw him bullying Pope at the dock, his overbearing attitude making it clear that the Rafe of last night and the Rafe of today were two sides of the same coin.

"You're an asshole," you had yelled at him later, when you faced him away from the others.

He shrugged, as if he didn't care, but his gaze searched yours, almost defiant.

"Don't expect me to change for you," he seemed to say without words.

You walked away furiously, promising yourself that this would be the last time. You couldn’t keep falling for that game, not when he was still the same cruel boy you’d known all your life.

But then, something always drew you back. Like when he found you after you were almost caught in one of John B’s crazy antics. He helped you escape, even covering for you when the Kooks passed by. It was an unexpected gesture, one that left you bewildered as you shared a moment of calm on an old boat hidden in the swamp.

“Thanks, I guess,” you’d told him, though your words were filled with skepticism.

He smirked, the kind of smile that always got on your nerves.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

But you thought about it. Every gesture of his, every glance, every clandestine kiss was etched into your memory, fueling a cycle you couldn’t break.

Of course, you had your part in that dynamic, too. There were times when your own actions infuriated him, like the time you stole information from him about the gold hunt and shared it with the Pogues. His reaction was explosive: he found you on the dock, his gaze filled with betrayal and fury.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

For a moment you thought he would leave you there, that this would be the end. But no. Even though you had betrayed him, even though you had defied him in every way possible, he always came back. Just like you came back to him.

[senselessviolets]

random will graham headcanons (childhood, teen years, college, etc.)

Rating T

WARNINGS:

Mentions of murder (canon typical), homicidal ideation, child abuse, alcoholism.

Author’s Notes:

Title says it all. Just some headcanons based off of the show, bits of Red Dragon and my own personal intuition because I'm THAT good. /s

He doesn’t know why his mom left because his dad refuses to tell him and would get furious anytime he brought it up as a child. 

He experienced corporal punishment from his dad but if asked, wouldn’t consider it to be abuse—no matter how emotionally traumatic it was for him. 

His dad George was a survey technician in the US Army Corps of Engineers. His mother Adaline had worked as a pharmacist before Will was born. 

He was never allowed pets growing up, hence why he now owns so many dogs.

With his undiagnosed ASD and constant moving around for his dad’s job, Will struggled to form any long-lasting, meaningful relationships in his youth.

His dad would occasionally write letters to Will and send him various gifts (Bourbon, aftershave, new lures) around the time of his birthday or the holidays. He stopped after Will was imprisoned and hasn’t written to him since. 

Will tried to approach girls he had crushes on when he was a teen but they were always dismissive of him or thought he was weird.

He lost his virginity in a clumsy drunken one-night stand in his sophomore year of college. She was his roommate’s ex and there was some drama over it.  

Will has experienced lots of frustration with the women in his romantic life who in his mind toyed with his feelings and strung him along. He was always so willing to commit himself to the right girl and even imagined himself as the kind to settle down and get married young but the opportunity never arose.  

Throughout his teenage years, he imagined often how he would kill his dad and was convinced he could get away with it.

Will dated a Law student in his junior and senior year of college and they had been going steady until after they’d slept with each other one night and Will had a hyperrealistic dream in which he strangled her in her sleep, dismembered her, and scattered her all around campus. This dream disturbed Will so deeply that he broke things off with the girl right after, providing little explanation as to why.

Will’s want to become a father and to protect and nurture his “strays” (Abigail Hobbs, Georgia Madchen, Peter Bernadone, his actual fucking dogs) is very much ego-driven. It’s not as genuine or wholesome as he might want you to think or how he even perceives it to be.

Will was pretty widely disliked at the police department he was a detective for as well as the FBI Academy.

His alcoholism developed as a way to numb his overstimulated senses and to cancel out the intrusive thoughts he has. As time has gone on, his reliance on liquor has only grown; a habit he picked up from his father.

Will is a notoriously harsh grader and is quick to shut down any dissenting opinions about his “style of teaching”.

He’s definitely had inappropriate thoughts/fantasies about a few of his students, ranging from shallow sexual attraction to full-blown abduction. 

He doesn’t own a television or a computer and begrudgingly owns a smartphone for his job. 

The majority of his interests and likes/dislikes are ones he got from his dad. His dad loved to fish. His dad’s favorite singer was Johnny Cash. His dad liked the color green. Will probably feels as if these are what he should like and if you actually asked him how he felt about ____ or if he really liked XYZ; he wouldn’t know how to answer. 

A huge part of the reason he loves dogs is that they do not know they are ‘kept’. As opposed to a human being who could recognize if they were taken from everything they know or forced to live the life of another; dogs don’t think that way and above all, they are undyingly loyal. 

^^ And yes, this is my way of saying I subscribe to the popular headcanon that Will has stolen some of his dogs.

Morally grey sweaty dog man.

I hate him.

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Sex On Wheels. | Dabi x Hawks 🌶🔥🦅

Pairing: Dabi x Hawks, Keigo Takami x Touya Todoroki

Summary: Hawks is having the worst day ever. He's spent the day modeling in a magazine photoshoot at a goddamn retro roller rink. He's tired, he's overstimulated and now his clothes have gone missing. Wonder who took them!? Now Hawks is stuck wearing slutty lil short shorts and ruby red roller skates when he runs into a certain someone... Enemies to lovers. DabiHawks smut. A18+ MDNI

CW: Blowjobs, handjobs, mention of fucking, kissing, dirty talk

Bed Chem. | Dabi x Hawks

“You ready for the next round of photos, Hawks?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Ugh. No, he’s honestly not. But, whatever! The Number Two Hero’s gotta act the part, right? Photo-shoots are a necessary evil to maintaining his rating on The Hero Chart.

Hawks ruffles his feathers and stretches his arms high over his head as he waits for the makeup gal to touch up his eyeliner. She delicately dabs at his face with a wet cloth, cleaning away the makeup where it’s running down his cheek with sweat. With a flourish, she reapplies the liner. Her motions are delicate, languid. The way she applies each stroke with care stirs some warmth in the winged hero. He tries to seem appreciative as she finishes touching him up.

The makeup lady looks to be in her early 50s. Decked out in black, she fits right in on the set. She has a kind face with greying, flyaway hair tucked into a light blue bandana. She’s nice. Hawks immediately warms to her.

“Don’t worry dear.” She says as she uses a soft brush to dab some concealer under his bright golden eyes. “They said this would be the last shot for the magazine.” The doting tone causes his chest to ache. She has such strong mom vibes. It makes him briefly think about his own sad excuse for a mother and how she sold him to The Commission all those years ago – no. He shakes his head. He can’t let his thoughts go down that dark alleyway. Not right now. Not when he needs to be on.

“Thanks!” He says brightly as the woman folds up her caboodle and stands back to admire her handiwork. He takes the hand mirror she hands him and grins into it, admiring the sharp red wings she’s drawn across his eyelids. “This looks great. Seriously I can’t thank you enough.” He hands back the mirror and she nods gratefully. He doesn’t get to ask her name before he’s whisked back onto set.

“Alright, Hawks. This is the last set up we have for today. Just skate a few laps around the rink with the models and that should give us what we need.” The art director says, flipping through his clipboard of notes absentmindedly.

Hawks nods, eyes glazed over as he zones out. They’ve been at this for hours. It’s a photo shoot for some fashion magazine (or maybe it’s a women’s health publisher!? He’s done so many shoots lately he honestly can’t remember). He’s exhausted and oddly sore from holding so many poses under the hot studio lights. All he wants to do is go back to his quiet apartment, take a cool shower in the dark and fall asleep after a handful of minutes mindlessly scrolling on his phone. But unfortunately…hero duty calls. It’s sort of ridiculous how much popularity seems to matter with being a hero.

The past few hours have been spent down the block taking photos in a sleek, upscale fashion photography studio. For this last bit of the shoot, the Magazine thought it would be fun to have some pictures taken with more…”personality.” It is for that reason that the Magazine has rented out a local roller rink for this next part of the day.

The place is dated but has an odd sort of retro charm to it. The large rink has smooth, freshly waxed wooden floors that glint in the lowlight. The walls are mostly black with glow in the dark accents and corny 80s posters plastered all over the place. The rink has a goofy DJ booth situated in the center under an obnoxiously large disco ball.

And then…there’s Hawks and his final outfit. They’ve put him in a tight fitting white tank top tucked into the tiniest pair of red athletic shorts Hawks has ever seen. His muscular thighs are on full display for all to see, and he’s oddly embarrassed about it. There’s a reason Hawks usually wears layers of clothing while doing his hero work. Of course, it gets cold flying in the air. That’s a given. But his thick coat and pants also serve to hide his body from the greedy eyes of the public. He liked being cozy and protected from the prying eyes of the world. He could pretend to flaunt and flirt all he wanted, but at the end of the day he wanted some part of his body to feel like his.  It would be nice to have some sense of ownership over his own life.

But now here he is, in the world’s sluttiest little outfit, about to roller skate in circles while photographers captured pretty pictures of his confident façade. Jeez, this sucks.

He bends over and adjusts the striped high socks the costuming department had given him to wear under his bright red roller skates. This has got to be one of the worst outfits he’s worn in his entire life (And he’s worn some pretty atrocious outfits).

“Alright, places everyone!” The art director claps his hands and Hawks stands up and glides on his skates towards the middle of the rink track. There’s models everywhere wearing similarly slutty outfits – shorts and tank tops and high socks and bright 80s skates.

“Oh, Hawks.” The art director calls his way. The Winged Hero turns, eyebrows raised in a question. “What music do you want to listen to?”

Oh. That’s nice of them to ask. Hawks relishes in the tiny thing he’s been allowed to have control over. He bites his lip as he thinks it over.

“Can you play some 80s New Wave?” He asks, trying to sound like he doesn’t care if they do or not. The art director nods and waves for the sound tech to plug his iPhone into the DJ both audio jack.

“Alright, start skating everyone. We’ll call out suggestions as you go.” The photographers get into place on the outskirts of the rink. Hawks notes warily that a few of the photographers have been given skates of their own. This photo shoot is a fuckin’ lawsuit waiting to happen.

Nevertheless, he starts skating around the rink. The sooner he gets this over with, the better. As usual, he turns on the fucking charm. He chats with the models – all tall and beautiful and glowing as they grin and fake laugh at his jokes for the camera. He winks and flaps his wings flirtily and even skates on one leg just to give them some extra material to work with. The less direction he gets from the art director, the sooner he can leave.

Music starts to blast from the DJ booth – some top 40 pop crap that is most definitely not the 80s New Wave tunes that Hawks requested. Ugh.

They skate around for three full songs before something good finally comes on the playlist – it’s Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter. Now this Hawks can fuck with.

I was in a sheer dress the day that we met We were both in a rush, we talked for a sec

Hawks starts to skate faster, maneuvering his way around the gyrating models hamming it up for the camera.

You're friendin' me up so we could connect And what are the odds? You sent me a text And now the next thing I know, I'm like Manifest that you're oversized I digress, got me scrollin' like Out of breath, got me goin' like

Damn Hawks is a slut for a good beat. He spreads his arms out wide and as he soars across the roller rink floor, he swears it feels like he’s flying. His red wings puff up behind him and spread wide as he makes a sharp turn. He glides in front of a row of cameras gracefully, grinning toothily at the photographers as he whips around on one foot and starts to skate backwards.

“That’s it, Hawks! Everyone match his pace – try to look carefree!” The art director calls out as he claps, directing the models to loosen up a bit. “Give me a few more laps around the floor and make me believe you’re having fun!”

Ooh (ah) Who's the cute boy with the white jacket And the thick accent? Like Ooh (ah) Maybe it's all in my head But I bet we'd have really good bed chem

Hawks is really getting into a groove now despite the burning exhaustion that’s starting to creep up his thighs. (Note to self – add roller blading to the workout regimen, you’re clearly missing some key muscle areas!). He passes a cute male model – a tall guy with dark hair and a nose piercing who is also wearing an offensively tiny pair of shorts – and winks. The model blinks in surprise, clearly flattered, before he smiles widely back. Hawks strikes up a conversation as they skate side by side, shamelessly flirting with the guy and complimenting his equally skimpy outfit. The guy is kind of funny and definitely cute. With his dark hair and pierced features, he reminds Hawks a little of someone, but he can’t quite put his finger on who…

How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense How you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things That's bed (bed) chem (chem) How you're lookin' at me, yeah, I know what that means and I'm obsessed Are you free next week? I bet we'd have really good-

“Alright, that’s a wrap! Everyone bring it in.” The music cuts and Hawks glides his way towards the Art Director alongside all of the models. As the music fades and the disco ball lights cruise to a stop, exhaustion begins to sink into all of his muscles.

“Thanks Hawks! Great job, everyone! I think we have what we need.” The art director and the camera people all huddle up to review a few shots and seem quite pleased. Hawks lets his shoulders relax. He looks up at the disco ball sadly, feeling his own sparkle fade along with the music.

“I’m so sorry! So so incredibly sorry! Let me go and check the photo studio again, maybe someone brought them back over to our first location by mistake?” A PA helping out the wardrobe department frantically types into her cell phone as Hawks looks on, exasperated. He’s trying to maintain his usual easygoing public persona, but Christ is it becoming harder by the minute to be nice. The girl hits send and looks up, tired eyes wide with panic. “Have I told you how sorry I am?”

“Hey.” He says, tight smile stretched across his face. He’s exhausted and sweaty and could really use a shower right now. “It’s a-oh-Kay! I know how stressful it is to run these things. Please take your time, I’m sure you’ll find them.”

The girl nods gratefully and sweeps off to find a production van so she can go checkout the photo studio for his clothes.

Yes, you read that right: his clothes. His entire duffle bag of clothing has gone missing. Someone has misplaced his sweatpants, t-shirt, sneakers annnnd his custom made black hoodie with large slits in the back to accommodate his wings.

So to top off an already exhausting day, he’s stuck in his embarrassingly miniscule shorts.

They’ve finished taking the hot lights down, reducing the temperature in the roller rink by about 40 fucking degrees. Cool AC drifts throughout the chasmy space. And that would be a great wonderful amazing goddamn thing if he weren’t wearing a paper-thin tank top. His nipples perk up at the cold air and stand out like sore thumbs in this paper bag of a shirt. He crosses his arms across his chest self consciously. Fuuuuck this goddamn day to all hell.

In the wake of the production team packing up the lighting equipment, Craft Services has set up an impressive spread of food beside the rink. Most of the crew and models are snacking and laughing in the tiny cafeteria off to the left where the rink likely hosts kid’s birthday parties. (Hawks honestly wouldn’t know – he didn’t have any birthday parties as a kid. It just seems like the kinda thing people would do in a goofyass place like this).

The place is so goddamn loud. The crew is chattering and laughing and calling out to one another across the space as they snack and pack up equipment. Someone’s put on background music and it’s the worst type of rap. Craft Services is banging around pots and crockery as they put out new dishes on the food table. All of the layers of sound and noise are far too much for Keigo’s sensitive ears and feathers, and he feels so incredibly over stimulated he doesn’t know what to do. He prays that the PA can find his noise canceling headphones, but he’s low on both patience and hope.

Hawks is grateful to see that everyone is either wrapped up in the little after party or in packing up photo equipment. For once, he goes unnoticed.

He rubs his hands up and down his goosebumped arms a few times and tries to consider his options. The wardrobe department can likely cut wing holes into a shirt and jacket in a pinch. He’s sure they must have something comfy he can wear for his flight home. Or maybe he can pay one of the PAs to run out to a local clothing store with his credit card. The problem with either of these options is that they are going to take time. Hawks really isn’t in the mood to stick around this neon hell much longer.

He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly to regulate his nervous system. Today is just one of those days when everything is out of his control and he just needs to – ugh he hates this phrase – go with the flow.

Okay, first priority. He needs a quick reset. If he finds the restroom, he can wipe off this damn makeup and splash his face with some water. Do some breathing exercises. Calm down his nervous system.

He awkwardly skate-walks (oh yeah, did I mention that he’s still wearing the goddamn ruby red-Dorthy-There’s-no-place-like-home-fucking-roller skates? Right. Because someone misplaced his Nikes. And to top it all off he can’t walk around in just the high striped socks because someone broke a stage light bulb and no one will let Japan’s Number Two Hero accidentally get a foot full of glass.) across the foam floor towards the men’s restroom.

He pushed open the door to see a few stalls with floor to ceiling doors alongside some urinals lining the lime green walls. All the neon on top of all the noise is making him feel a little woozy with overstimulation.

As he moves to enter the restroom some of his feathers on his wings prickle to life in warning, but he breathes deeply to calm them down. When he’s over stimulated like this his body tends to react to everything as a fight or flight situation. If anyone else is using the restroom right now it could be setting off his feathers, which can pick up on even the smallest of nearby vibrations.

Calm down. He repeats over and over in his mind as he tries to shake his feathers back into place. The only villain here is whatever production assistant misplaced my goddamn pants. Now let’s focus on solutions.

The weather’s not too cold out – maybe he should just hedge his bets and fly home in these stupid little shorts. If he flies high enough, there’s not shot that anyone would see him looking like such a dumbass.

Where the flooring outside was a foamy material that was easy to maneuver on skate wheels, the restroom floor is smooth black linoleum. As the door swings shut behind him he sees a “NO SKATES, SNEAKERS ONLY IN RESTROOMS” sign posted near the doorframe. Damn. He carefully places his steps and grips one of the sinks to minimize his rolling. The skates love the linoleum floor and seem to want nothing more than for him to freeskate his way around the dinky little restroom. Fat chance.

He grips the sink with both hands and stares at the drain for a few moments, breathing deeply in and out as he tries to master himself. The strategic side of his brain scrambles to make an actionable game plan. Something easy that will get him from Point A (this shitty day and this shitty roller rink) to Point B (home).

Alright Keigo. Splash some water on your face. Then make a beeline for that nice makeup lady and ask her to help you find someone form wardrobe to help you out of this mess. It’ll be fine. All you’ll need to do is crank up that Number Two Hero charm.

Alight. Yeah. That’ll work.

Feeling a tiny bit more confident now that he has a plan, Keigo pulls himself up to look at himself in the long counter mirror. His sharp eyes widen in surprise and he almost growls from the back of his throat.

There, in the mirror he can see Dabi standing behind him, leaning against the lime green florescent wall as casual as you please. He’s wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater tucked into loose black canvas pants. His hands rest in his pockets, looking harmless. A toothy grin stretches across his face, his bright teeth contrasting sharply with his mottled, patchwork skin. His bright aqua eyes are narrowed threateningly as if to say “caught ya.”

“Hey birdie.” He says softly. “Miss me?”

“Fuck Dabi. What the hell are you doing here. There are civilians around. I’m at work right now.”

Dabi smirks and mouths ‘at work’ as if it’s a fun little joke between the two of them.

“That your new work uniform?”

Dabi takes a step towards the door, and Keigo tenses.

“Hey, now Hawks. Calm down.” He says easily as he reaches out a hand to click the door’s lock into place. “Just ensuring us some privacy.”

“How’d you even get in here?” Hawks asks, on edge. He’s exasperated – he can’t catch a fucking break today.

“You know the funny thing about sets like this…you just walk around in black and no one bats an eye.” Dabi says smoothly, looking down at Hawks with

Keigo grips the sink as he carefully turns himself around to face Dabi on his roller skates. His wings feel so cramped and hard to maneuver in this tiny space, but he somehow manages. Dabi waits for him to turn around, smirking all the while. This is so fucking embarrassing.

“I have a request for you from the Paranormal Liberation Army.”

“You mean you have another test for me.”

“You’re smarter than you look, pretty boy.” Dabi drawls, crossing his arms and leaning his head back against the neon green wall. “The upper brass is not fully convinced you’re loyal to our cause yet.”

“Great. Got it. Just tell me what I gotta do and leave.” Keigo is practically seething.

“Wow, someone’s got their little hero panties in a twist.” Dabi quirks an eyebrow upwards in surprise. “What happened to you today? Usually you’re mister sunshine.”

Dabi’s face is suddenly very close. He lifts a scarred hand towards Keigo’s face as if he wants to touch it, but then thinks the better of it. His arm drops limply to his side.

“…something up?” He asks, his face dropping into a frown. Usually they’ll go back and forth with some infuriating banter. But tonight, Hawks is all teeth and anger. It’s unsettling.

“Just a shit day.” Hawks says through gritted teeth. “Tell me what you need from me already and I’ll do it.”

Dabi takes a step back, considering him with more care.

“Nah. I’ll find you later this week and give you the assignment. Your vibes are off right now.”

“Of course my fucking vibes are off. I’m stuck in some godforsaken 80s fever dream wearing a cursed fuckin’ outfit.”

Dabi looks at him appraisingly, eyes lingering on the way Hawks’ slim waist dips into his short shorts. “It’s not so much cursed as it is…slutty.” The observation is more appreciative than mocking.

Keigo’s eyebrows fly up his forehead.

Slutty!?

Usually he’s so careful with how he shows emotion – so diligent about being the perfect little spy for The Hero Commission. But right now he’s tired and over stimulated and Dabi – his mother-fucking enemy – just called him slutty using a tone that makes Keigo want to melt into a puddle of hormones and arousal.

Dabi stares down at him, expression steely and unreadable.

The vibe in the little neon bathroom has shifted, and they both know it.

“Did you just call me…slutty?” Keigo preens a bit, trying to stand up straighter but failing miserably in his slippery skates. He leans back into the porcelain sink to keep from sliding to the ground.

“No I called your outfit slutty, shithead.” Dabi says, jerking his chin up at Hawks. His eyes narrow, a hunter surveying his prey. “Look at those fuckin’ shorts. It’s like you’re begging to be fucked or something.”

“Excuse me?” Keigo can’t believe his ears. His grip on the sink tightens. He can’t decide if he wants to throw a punch at Dabi’s pretty fuckin’ face…or if he wants to…kiss him!?

“You heard me, birdie.” And the guy fuckin’ smiles. He flashes those bright white teeth in a way that makes him look both gorgeous and terrifying.

At this point Hawks is extremely aware of two things:

Thing One: He’s always had a weird thing for Dabi since they first met at the Liberation Army headquarters a few months ago. Dabi is the only one who truly sees right through all of his Commission-trained charm and bravado – the only League member who still doesn’t quite trust Hawks. Hawks loves a good challenge. Relishes it. And Dabi is a challenge in so many delightful ways. And Dabi is hot. He’s so goddamn tall. And he’s just Keigo’s type – covered in piercings and emo accessories and dark and brooding. A perfect balance to the faux sunshine Hawks has been trained to radiate out at all times. Keigo’s never seen the man shirtless, but in the early morning moments between dreaming and waking he’s often imagined what could be laying in wait for him beneath those layers of leather and black clothing. Yes, Hawks is attracted to Dabi. There’s no way around that.

Thing Two: Keigo’s  little shorts are starting to feel…tighter. Keigo is an absolute sucker for teasing and dirty talk. And with all that Dabi’s saying to him right now…well, Keigo is getting hard and there’s nothing he can do to hide it.

And Dabi is noticing.

“All that for me, birdie?” Dabi says, eyeing Hawks’ package appreciatively. “Looks like it was worth my time to come all this way out here after all.

Keigo can’t hide the fierce blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Listen. Let’s drop the PLF shit for a bit.” Dabi says, shrugging his shoulders and holding his palms open, almost as if in surrender. “You know I don’t trust you, and no amount of “assignments” or “missions” are gonna prove your loyalty to me. I know you’re some sort of fuckin’ Hero Commission spy.”  Dabi lifts his hand to his ear so he can play with one of his earrings, twisting the piercing around in his finger. “But I don’t really give a shit about that work stuff right now. It sounds like we both had shit days, and there’s something I wanna do.”

He takes a step towards Hawks, slow and catlike. Hawks is on edge, wary. A base part of him revels in the intense look of Dabi’s bright aqua eyes. With a stab of surprise in his gut, he realizes that the hot, tall, pierced photo model he was rollerskating with had been reminiscent of Dabi.

Oh! That’s who that hot guy reminded me of. Hawks thinks as he tenses for some kind of blow or attack. “Hey, Dabi. You don’t model on the side, do you? I met a guy who looks like you earlier. Real emo and attractive in a weird, pierced sort of way.

Dabi stops in his tracks, inches away from Hawks. “You think I’m attractive in a…” Dabi snorts. “Weird, pierced sort of way?” What little air lies between them crackles with electricity.

“Well…” Oh shit, did he really just say that out loud? Yeah, he’s always thought Dabi is attractive. How could anyone not think that Dabi is attractive? He hadn’t meant to verbalize it, though.

“Shut up. Damn bird.” Dabi closes the gap between them, grabbing Hawks’ chin hard between his thumb and forefinger. Before the wing hero can send out a barrage of sharp feathers his way, Dabi smashes their lips together in an aggressive kiss.

Oh. Holy. Fuck.

Hawks moans into the kiss as their mouths connect again and again and again.

Dabi is a goddamn dream of a kisser. His style consists of hot open-mouthed kisses punctuated by nicks of staples and teeth. His bottom, toasted lip is a bit dry compared to the top one, but it feels good all the same when it slides against Hawks’ own wet mouth. Dabi leans forward, his arm snakes in between Hawks’ own hand and hip to rest on the sink so he can#dabihawks#my hero academia#mha#boku no hero academia#boku no academia#bnha#boku no hero#bnha manga#anime#keigo takami#mha hawks#hotwings#bnha hawks#mha touya#touya todoroki#bnha touya#dabi#todoroki touya#bnha dabi#hawks#HotWings#Dabihawks#dabi x hawks#hawks x dabi#keigo takami fluff#mha takami keigo#bnha keigo#Keigo Takami x Touya Todoroki#Todoroki#touya x keigo prop himself up. He uses his other hand to continue to hold Hawks’ face in a vice like grip as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Hawks doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his body so he just focuses on the way that Dabi’s mouth and tongue dance across his own. Dabi licks the bottom of Hawks’ mouth before tugging his lower lip between his teeth. Hawks groans into it, letting Dabi do whatever the hell he wants. It’s delightful and sweet and dirty all at the same time.

When they finally break apart, they’re both breathing heavy. Dabi’s striking blue eyes are half-lidded as he gazes down at Hawks.

“Take off your shirt.” Dabi says in a low, gravely rasp. Hawks doesn’t need telling twice. He uses one hand to keep bracing himself against the sink (the damn roller skates are barely holding up his shaky legs right now), and uses the other to peel the thin tank top off of his quaking body.

“That’s better.” Dabi says, stepping back a bit so he can admire the hero’s chiseled physique. “I figured you were ripped, but holy shit.”

He slides his palm down Hawks’ neck and across the bulging muscles of his chest. “This is insane.” He dips his hand lower to feel the hero’s washboard abs before dipping a finger underneath the waistband of those godforsaken tiny shorts. Hawks hisses at the feeling of hot fingertips so close to the tip of his cock. He’s instantly rock hard and left wanting when Dabi slides his fingers back up and makes sure to snap the waistband of the shorts soundly against Hawks’ stomach.

Dabi must see the desperation in Hawks’ sharp eyes because he whispers: “Patience is a virtue, little hero.” He takes a step back from Hawks and discards his own shirt, pulling the turtleneck up and off of his head. It leaves his black hair looking fluffy and staticky. He then steps back towards the hero and leans his head down so he can kiss his way across Hawks’ jawline. Hawks can barely breathe he’s so turned on right now. Dabi continues to make his way down Hawks’ neck, stopping to suck on his pulse point. The winged hero moans at the feel of Dabi’s lips, rough and soft at the same time.

Dabi takes care to make out with Hawks’ neck for a bit – pressing those hot lips of his over and over to the delicate skin beneath the hero’s jaw and along his shoulder. Hawks could stand like that forever, letting Dabi lavish him with kisses and licks.

Hawks is taken by surprise when the scene escalates, and out of nowhere the villain drops to his knees. Before Hawks even knows what’s happening, Dabi has pulled his tiny shorts and underwear straight down to the ground. His proud cock bounces out, fully erect and standing ready for action against dense golden curls. Dabi takes a moment to admire it, licking his chapped lips as Hawks’ dick stands at attention, a drop of shiny precum clinging to the flushed tip.

“Knew you’d be pretty.” Is all he says before he practically inhales Hawks’ cock.

“Fuck – ah!” Hawks almost falls (well, rolls) over in surprise as Dabi licks the tip of his cock and takes it in his stapled mouth. The contact feels so deliciously good – Dabi’s mouth is warm and hot in all the right ways. It’s been so long since Hawks has had good head, and Dabi is most certainly going to give him good head.

Dabi wastes no time as he hollows out his cheeks and begins bobbing his head on Hawks’ dick. He snakes a hand up to the winged hero’s waist to hold him in place, ruby red roller skates be damned. His other hand makes its way upwards to grip at the meat of Hawks’ left thigh. His fingertips dig into the hard muscle, and somewhere in the back of Hawks’ hormone-addled mind, he knows that there will be bruise marks burned into his skin come morning.

Hawks’s cock feels like its in heaven, and his brain is hazy with lust as he looks down at this fucking god of a villain who’s sucking him off in a neon green roller rink bathroom.

Dabi throws him a brief but smug look with those sharp, turquoise eyes and it causes Hawks’ stomach to squeeze and flip. His heart pounds in his chest and he needs to remind himself to breathe, goddammit when Dabi pulls his mouth off with a loud “pop!” and begins licking up and down Hawks’ shaft.

“Fuck Dabi. Yeah – j-just like that.”

Dabi flutters his tongue across the sharp veins of Hawks’ dick, making his way upwards slowly. When he finally gets to the tip, he swirls his tongue around the sensitive space just beneath the head before sucking the thick member back into his mouth. Hawks sees stars.

Dabi continues on like that for a bit – alternating between licking and sucking and just generally doing magical things with his mouth as Hawks looks on, dumbstruck.

In a spark of inspiration, Dabi reaches up and puts his hands on Hawks’ slim hips, thumbs digging into the divots of muscle that fall into a “V” shape as his waist tapers off. The patchwork villain jerks the blonde’s hips forward slightly, and Hawks glides towards him. Dabi wraps his mouth deeper around Hawks’ cock, pushing and pulling the blonde back and forth across the linoleum floor on those stupid roller skates. He’s sliding in and out of Dabi’s mouth – absolutely face fucking the hell out of him in a languid, controlled sort of way.

It’s sexy.

It’s hot.

It’s far too much.

“Dabi.” Hawks practically sings as the villain picks up his pace, still using the roller skates to his advantage. Hawks can feel his orgasm building like kindling catching into a bonfire. “Dabi.”

“Hmm?” Dabi’s eyes flick up to look at him almost lazily as he continues to suck.

“I’m gonna…Shit that’s good! I’m gonna cum…” Hawks doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this, being absolutely manhandled by his enemy. He feels heat prickle across his face as he chases his high in Dabi’s mouth.

The villain acknowledges Hawks by digging his fingers harder into the blonde’s sensitive hips with the intention of bruising. He continues his even pace – pushing and pulling Hawks’ cock in and out of his mouth with practiced skill. God does Dabi love roller skates right now.

“Dabiiii.” Hawks moans out through gritted teeth, feeling the orgasm begin to roll through him. When the dark haired villain doesn’t relent, Hawks figures he’s alright with getting cum in his mouth. He lets go – all of the days stress and exhaustion coming out of him in one golden wave of pleasure. His crimson wings fluff up and fan out behind him in ecstasy. He cums hard into Dabi’s mouth, the orgasm rolling from the base of his cock onto Dabi’s waiting tongue.

Dabi holds Hawks gaze – Blue eyes boring into Hawks’ golden-brown ones. Hawks shudders as he cums, watching Dabi’s hot mouth take everything he’s willing to give. For his part, Dabi is sure to keep sucking in time with Hawks’ orgasm, tasting the hero’s hot salty cum on his tongue. Dabi makes a show of swallowing, letting Hawks see the way that his mouth and throat are working overtime to accommodate the hero’s thick load.

Hawks comes down slowly, his sensitive cock still twitching as it pumps out the last remnants of pleasure. Dabi has brings a hand down from Hawks’ hips and wraps it around the hero’s sensitive base, slowly jerking at him as he comes back to himself. When he’s finally finished, Hawks all but collapses backward into the sink, panting as he desperately tries to catch his breath. Dabi releases the hero from his grasp, leaning back on his heals and wiping his juicy mouth on his sleeve.

He smirks up at the wing hero who’s currently looking fucked out and boneless. “That good?”

“Good enough. Clearly.” Hawks says, rolls his eyes. “Well you’re down there, mind unlacing these fuckin’ things?”

For once, Dabi doesn’t have a biting retort or complaint. He dutifully unties Hawks’ ruby red roller skates and helps him step out of them. Once out of the skates, the tiny shorts drop the remainder of the way down Hawks’ calves and land on the floor in a heap, leaving him in nothing but tall striped socks.

“Ugh note to self: never wear roller skates again. Fuck those are uncomfortable.” Hawks wiggles his toes on the linoleum and bends over to massage his calves and ankles.

“I dunno…I kind of liked them.” Dabi says, rising from the floor. Hawks closes the distance between them and slides his hands up into Dabi’s hair, pulling the villain’s mouth back to his own.

“Fuck.” Hawks says between kisses. “Who would have thought you could give head like that?”

Dabi smirks into each searing kiss, letting Hawks manhandle him desperately. The blonde lets a hand wander down Dabi’s neck and across his back, feeling the taught muscles there. He brings his other hand down to palm at the villain’s pants and is unsurprised to find him rock hard and wanting. Dabi rolls his hips into Hawks’ hand and laughs into his mouth at the contact.

“What you gonna do about that, hero?” He hisses before turning his face to lick up Hawks’ jawline. The blonde shudders at the hot, wet contact.

“Do you have a condom on you?” Hawks asks, breathless as he pulls away from Dabi’s face and blinks up at him, unsteady.

“What do I look like to you, a damn vending machine - ” Hawks claps a hand to Dabi’s mouth, cutting him off. He smirks up at the villain, rolling his eyes almost playfully.

“Alright, blowjob it is!” He pushes Dabi hard in the chest, guiding him to the neon green wall.

“Ugh.” The villain says, looking at the painted concrete wall with disgust. “This place looks like it’s covered in, like, a thousand STDs.”

“It’s called neon, dumbass.” Hawks holds his palm flat against Dabi’s chest, ensuring the dark haired man’s back is flush against the wall. There’s a crackle coming from the ceiling and Hawks glances upwards to see a vent to their left. Huh, they must have just turned on the AC. The chilly, mechanical breeze of air conditioning hits Hawks’ hot skin, cooling the sweat of his back. Goosebumps jump across his skin as he looks down at his naked body, suddenly feeling a bit too exposed.

“Hold that thought.” He makes a gesture for Dabi to stay where he is. The villain watches him, an almost bored expression coloring his eyes as Hawks scoops up his teeny tiny shorts and slips them back on, one leg at a time.

“Aw, the show’s over?” Dabi says flatly. Hawks whirls around to face him.

“Oh no, we’re just getting started.” Hawks tilts his head at Dabi, throwing on his charming camera-ready smile. For a moment, the villain seems frozen, almost speechless. Hawks is a little surprised – he knows his thousand-watt hero smile can have devastating consequences when executed correctly, but he never thought that Dabi would get caught up in it the same way his fans seem to.

Hawks takes a step back towards Dabi, crowding up into his space. He slides his hand up to grip at Dabi’s jaw, forcing him to tilt his head down to fully look Hawks in the face.

“You think I’m pretty, don’t you?” the hero whispers pompously.

Dabi glowers down at him. “Well I wouldn’t suck off just any ugly bastard, now would I? I’m selective.”

Hawks lets go of Dabi’s face and roughly pushes it aside. “That’s not good enough. You want my mouth on your cock? Do better.”

“I don’t need to take this shit from you.”

“Um. Actually, you do. I don’t see any other handsome heroes lining up to top you off.”

Dabi actually smiled at this – his face stretching into a full grin that goes all the way up to his eyes.

“I like it when you’re feisty.” He says, dipping his head to catch Hawks’ mouth in another scorching kiss. The contact leaves Hawks breathless and wanting more. “Of course I think you’re goddamn beautiful. I wouldn’t want you so badly otherwise.” Dabi says, pulling his face away from the hero’s.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Hawks says softly before attacking Dabi’s neck with his mouth. He licks a hot stripe across the other man’s throat, then finds a piece of clean, unblemished skin to bite into. He lets his canines press down on the delicate skin before he sucks the spot into his mouth. A hickey blooms instantly beneath his lips and Dabi groans, delighted at the mix of simultaneous pain and pleasure.

“Do that again.” The villain practically commands, reaching between them to palm at his hard on.

“I dunno, you’ve barely got any skin left that isn’t charred.” Hawks says simply. Not mockingly, just observing. He doesn’t want to unintentionally dole out more damage.

“Fuck if I care. Put your teeth wherever you want.” His hand climbs its way into Hawks’ thick blonde hair, fingers wrapping around the bushy locks. He gathers a few curls at the nape of Hawks’ neck and pulls gently, causing Hawks to moan at the unexpected contact.

“Keep making pretty little noises like that and you’ll make me cum before you even get my cock in you.” Dabi gives another experimental tug and Hawks’ knees nearly buckle he’s swooning hard for this idiot. He takes a deep breath and decides to regain control of the situation, pushing Dabi’s hands out of his hair and dropping to his knees before the emo flame wielder. He reaches out and undoes the button to Dabi’s loose pants before pulling the zipper down as far as it can go.

To be honest, Hawks is having a ton of intrusive thoughts about Dabi’s dick – does his dick have a patchwork of charred flesh with staples holding it together? Does he have it pierced? Is he well endowed? Each of the possibilities is intriguing in its own way, and Hawks is eager to unwrap Dabi like a present on his fucking birthday.

Dabi doesn’t resist as Hawks slips the baggy pants down his slim hips and onto the ground. His legs are long, toned and crisscrossed with staples. The skin is mottled with purple, but less so than his torso. His thighs are surprisingly muscular and thick. Goddamn he’s beautiful. Beneath those baggy pants, he’s wearing a pair of charcoal boxers that leave little to the imagination. Hawks’ eyes widen as his greatest hopes are confirmed – Dabi is fuckin’ packing.

The villain’s dick is outlined beneath the underwear – a hard line leaning left. There’s a small damp spot on the front of the boxers where Dabi’s dick has leaked precum during all of their foreplay. The visual is incredibly hot.

“Why’d ya stop?” Dabi asks in a husky voice, hands on his hips as he stares down at Hawks’ whipped expression. “Intimidated?”

Hawks quirks his mouth up in a small smile. “You wish.”

Dabi barks out a laugh in response, moving his fingers beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers and tugging them down in a swift motion. His cock springs to attention, coming up to kiss his abs as it stands fully erect and flush with arousal.

Hawks was wrong – his cock isn’t burned, charred or pierced. But he was right about it being fucking massive. Dabi’s cock is beautiful – long with some weight to it, the tip flushed with excitement. Hawks has had a few steamy rendezvous over the years with other men, but never has he seen a dick this pretty. He practically salivates as he takes it in.

“Like what you see?” Dabi says, stretching his arms up and behind his head as his cock twitches excitedly against his slim but toned stomach.

“Absolutely.” Hawks says, licking his lips slowly as he reaches up to smooth the palm of his hands down Dabis’ perfect hip bones. “How do you hide all of this in those ridiculous leather pants of yours?”

This makes Dabi snort. This may be the first time Hawks has heard has hear d a genuine laugh from the man, and he likes the sound of it. The way he snorts into his laughter is geeky and distinctly uncool. It humanizes him, in a way. Hawks’ smile is so big his cheeks start to get sore. He quickly resets his mouth into a cool, thin line. Careful now. He thinks to himself as he slides his hands down to grasp at Dabi’s firm ass appreciatively. Can’t catch feelings for a villain that you’ll eventually betray.

Hawks is no angel – the Hero Commission has certainly seen to that. But crashing out over Dabi – Dabi the damn top member of the League of Villains – that would be so incredibly morally wrong that Hawks can’t believe his horny brain even bubbled up the idea in the first place. Ok. Refocus. Sex now, guilt and morality check later.

He lets his hands explore the expanse of Dabi’s cheeks. Jeez, he loves Dabi’s ass. It’s firm with a tiny bit of bounce to it. He looks up appreciatively at the rest of Dabi’s body. He’s a bit taken aback and just how skinny the villain is. He knows that up until The League joined up with the Paranormal Liberation Front, Dabi, Shigaraki and the others didn’t have a reliable source for meals. From the intel Hawks had gathered at the PLF HQ, the League members often went hungry, not knowing where their next meals would come from.

Dabi’s physique tells a story of malnourishment. He’s far too slim for his height. His muscles are lean in a wiry sort of way. Even though he’s muscular and has these to-die-for thighs, it’s clear that he’s not in a healthy place. He’s not being cared for. And Hawks knows all about being malnourished and neglected – before the Commission got a hold of him, he recalls being shaky and hungry with weak muscles from malnourishment.

So as Hawks appreciates Dabi’s beautiful body, he can’t help the way that his heart aches for the villain. A tiny voice in his head says, “I could take care of you. I could take you to my favorite restaurants and show you what it’s like to have a full belly and a warm bed. I could feed you and kiss you and fuck you until you fall asleep all safe and happy and emo and we could live happily ever after like some goddamn gay version of Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves in The Lake House – kissing into the credit scenes.

Hawks blinks in surprise as the affectionate thoughts scroll through his head. All that just from cumming in Dabi’s mouth and then seeing him naked in a neon green roller rink bathroom!? Fuck. Has he been down bad for this emo motherfucker all along!?

Um. Okay wow that was a weirdly visceral pipedream thought. Hawks tries to lock in and clear his mind. There will be plenty of processing later when he’s taking a fresh shower and can be blessedly alone with his thoughts. For now – he has a blowjob to attend to.

He runs his hands slowly down Dabi’s thighs, memorizing the feel of Dabi’s warm skin beneath his fingertips. He looks up at the emo villain with bright golden eyes, and Dabi hits him back with a smoky gaze that could level buildings (probably has, to be honest. Dabi does have a police documented history of arson). His nose piercings glint in the artificial lighting as he turns his head ever so slightly so he can better look at Hawks. The hero runs his fingers lightly up the sensitive skin of Dabi’s inner thighs and the villain bites his lip and inhales sharply. His cock twitches. He’s so fucking horny.

Finally, Hawks puts him out of his misery and slides a hand up to grip Dabi’s cock and oh shit does it feel good in his palm. He runs his hand up and down the shaft, taking care to vary the pressure of his grip as he gets towards the tip. He swipes his thumb across Dabi’s sensitive head, smearing his precum around under his fingers so he can use it as lube. Dabi lets out a slight gasp at the motion, his arms falling to his sides as he continues to watch Hawks work at his thick cock.

Hawks looks down, staring hungrily at the hot member in his hand as he strokes slowly, carefully up and down. He decides to take it nice and slow – they both need this. A break. Softness. He jerks Dabi’s cock slowly, full of care. Almost as if to quietly say this is how it can be with me – sex can be slow. It can be gentle. Hawks wonders if Dabi has ever been handled with care in bed.

“What are you doing?” Dabi groans, looking down at him with a frown. “You’re literally the slowest bitch on the face of the Earth. Just get me off already.”

Hawks pauses and looks back up at the villain with narrowed eyes. “It’s all about the build up. Shut up and enjoy it.”

“I’d enjoy it more if I was cumming all over your face right now, jeez.” Dabi says defensively, but he crosses his arms and shuts the fuck up all the same. He’s looking down at Hawks almost curiously (as curiously as one can look while they’re brooding into a handjob). Hawks grins a little as he starts to jerk Dabi off again, this time going a tiny bit faster until he feels Dabi’s dick respond with an appreciative twitch.

He then leans forward and plants a row of wet kisses up Dabi’s inner thigh as he continues to glide his hand up and down Dabi’s perfect cock. He realizes that he could use a tiny bit more lubrication. He gathers saliva in his mouth and looks up at Dabi to maintain eye contact as he drools like an absolute whore onto the villain’s ready cock.

Dabi blinks in surprise at the explicit visual, and then stares hungrily at Hawks to see what he’ll do next. The winged hero uses his hand to glide his saliva across Dabi’s excited cock and increases his pace a bit – the villain closes his eyes at the contact, clearly seeing stars behind his eyelids as he lets out a tiny breath of pleasure. Good. That’s what Hawks wants.

He leans his mouth forward and starts to suck at Dabi’s balls, sucking one into his mouth as he continues along with the hand job. At this, Dabi lets out a full on groan from the back of his throat. Okay, so he’s a sensitive little bitch. Hawks can work with that.

He sucks for a few more moments on Dabi’s package, letting his jaw go slack so he can pull his mouth away to do more dirty work. He ghosts hot breath along the underside of Dabi’s cock before tonguing at his flushed tip. Dabi seems to think that Hawks is speeding things up like he asked, and he hums appreciatively when he feels Hawks’ wet mouth hover just above his cockhead.

But no – Hawks is just teasing. He goes back down to worshiping Dabi’s thighs with his mouth, lavishing them in kisses as he slows his stroke game on Dabi’s dick. Dabi lets out a growl of frustration, just wanting Hawks to get it quick and dirty and done with.

“Patience.” Hawks says as he finds a particularly sensitive spot on Dabi’s thigh and tongues at it, appreciating the way Dabi’s knees give a twitch at the motion. “Patience.” He places a kiss on the spot. “Is.” Another kiss. “A Virtue.” He swirls his tongue back up towards Dabi’s package.

“Oh fuck you.” Dabi hisses between clenched teeth, arms still crossed against his chest and eyes shut tight. He drops his head back to rest against the smooth neon green wall.

“You could be fucking me right now. If you carried a damn emergency condom.” Hawks teases, using his free hand to caress Dabi’s sensitive balls. They quiver at the delicate attention the hero serves up. Dabi is blessedly speechless for once. Hawks glances up to see that he’s really relishing this, despite his complaints. His eyes are still cramped shut but his eyebrows are knitting against each other and he’s biting his lip hard. He’s doing everything possible to not let Hawks see him enjoying himself.

Hawks slows down his pace even more. He can tell that he’s frustrating Dabi endlessly, and he loves it. Dabi’s mouth has settled into a scowl, but his chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm that hinting to Hawks that he’s getting flustered.

“Hey Dabi.” Hawks says, casual. “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself. We can go back to being whatever kind of fucked up enemies when we’re back on the clock. We can pretend this never happened.” He lolls his tongue around the head of Dabi’s cock, eliciting a shiver from the villain, before continuing to kiss up his hipbone. “Let yourself fucking relax a little.”

Dabi cracks open an eye to glare at Hawks, but he takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly before dropping his arms to his sides.

“Alright, birdie. Make me enjoy it.” He says, half daring, half resigned. Hawks grins into the skin of his slim belly before planting a kiss beside his navel.

“Just remember – you asked for this.” Hawks says cheekily, kissing down the light “V” shape of the svelte muscles at Dabi’s trim waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get on with - ” Dabi’s words get stuck in his throat as, in a sudden burst of movement, Hawks wrenches one of Dabi’s long legs off the ground and throws it over his shoulder. He flings an arm between Dabi’s legs to brace against the wall, allowing himself to bare most of the villain’s weight. In the same motion, he takes Dabi’s cock in his mouth and starts sucking like his life depends on it (And maybe it does to be honest).

Dabi was clearly not expecting this, because he lets out a moan of surprise that quickly turns into undiluted pleasure at the change in position. His dick fits so snuggly in Hawks’ hot mouth, and the thrill of being handled so harshly yet carefully is turning him on in a way that neither of them could have anticipated. He’s rock hard and ready to cum any moment.

Hawks hollows out his cheeks and bobs his head in a steady rhythm, enjoying the light salty taste of Dabi’s unblemished skin. He periodically swirls his tongue around the head of the villain’s cock, eliciting broken mumbles of praise from the hot villain.

“Y-yeah. Oh shit. Just like that.” Dabi stammers mindlessly, his fingers dropping from his chest to thread their way through Hawks’ thick hair. He pulls gently at the hero’s blonde locks, eliciting a hum of appreciation from Hawks. Mmm that’s hot. The hum sends tiny shockwaves of vibration through Dabi’s cock and he feels his legs start to shake with pleasure. Hawks feels it too. He knows the villain is getting close, and he’s excited to push him over the edge.

Dabi’s eyes flutter open so he can get a visual on the situation. He takes in the way his pale leg is thrown haphazardly over Hawks’ strong, tanned shoulder. Then there’s the way that Hawks is absolutely ravaging him – deep throating his cock in a way that’s both slutty and caring. Hawks is so tuned into Dabi’s pleasure; he’s contorted himself into an uncomfortable position. He’s simultaneously supporting most of Dabi’s weight while sucking him dry. It’s the first time Dabi’s had sex where a partner has focused entirely on his desire. He’s so fucking turned on that he’s shaking.

Hawks slides his mouth off of Dabi’s dick with a pop. He takes a few ragged breaths and then says in a hoarse tone. “I know you’re close. I want to make you cum. I want you to enjoy yourself. Fucking take it from me Dabi.” He takes Dabi’s cock back in his mouth and wrenches his leg upwards, further over the hard muscles of his Pro Hero shoulder.

Dabi’s head hits the neon green bathroom wall with a light “thud.” He’s speechless, blissed out, heaven struck. Hawks seems to know exactly what to say and do to turn him on. He’s always been one for dirty talk – but he’s never truly been on the receiving end of said talking. The way Hawks looks at him and sucks him off and speaks to him so damn directly…well it’s all far too much and he’s certain sex has now officially been ruined forever for him - its likely that only Hawks is capable of fucking him this good.

Hawks sucks rhythmically at Dabi’s dick and does all sorts of fancy things with his tongue that shoot zigzags of pleasure into the villain’s belly. It only takes about 45 seconds of this for him to absolutely shatter. He doesn’t even see the orgasm coming – all of a sudden without warning it hits him like a train. It’s hard, fast and breathtaking. His entire body is a livewire of shaking energy as he feels himself cum, hot waves of sticky fluid splattering the back of the hero’s throat in rapid succession.

Dabi cries out – a mix of surprise and pleasure. The noise that’s ripped from the back of his throat sounds suspiciously like Hawks’ name, but the villain would never own up to that fact. (Besides, what’s said during sex doesn’t really mean anything, right? Right.) If Hawks weren’t holding him up, his knees would be buckling right now because holy fucking shit he feels so deliriously good as Hawks draws the orgasm out of him and swallows cleanly.

And for his part, Hawks is in heaven down beneath the villain, sucking the remnants of Dabi’s high through chapped lips. He absolutely loves giving during sex. Something about the way he can make someone fall apart with only his touch, his mouth, his cock…he supposes it’s a trauma response, wanting to pleasure people for attention and potentially because he wants to feel a bit of control. In his lifetime, he’s had so little control. It’s nice to have a moment of being truly in charge.

But honestly…he sees Dabi as a mirror to himself; someone who’s been neglected and unloved. And for a moment it feels good to give Dabi the things he himself wants. So when Dabi throws his head back and moans out his name in a choked voice, the hero feels incredibly accomplished and – selfishly – fulfilled knowing he’s done his job well.

When Dabi’s cock is spent and limp between Hawks’ lips, he gently slides his mouth off. A thin thread of spit and cum connects his lips to Dabi’s pretty cock as he backs away. It’s sloppy and gross and he can feel Dabi drinking in the hot visual from above. He carefully removes Dabi’s lengthy leg from where it hangs over his shoulder, lowering it back to the ground. He tries to ignore the way that Dabi’s entire body is still quaking.

He decides he can get away with one more kindness before Dabi comes back into his body. He reaches for Dabi’s charcoal boxers where they lay abandoned on the floor, and he holds them out to the villain, helping him pull one shaky leg into the underwear at a time. Dabi doesn’t put up a fight, awkwardly allowing Hawks to help him get back into the comfortable fabric. When the boxers are finally back in place with their elastic waistband low on Dabi’s defined hips, the villain slides down the wall so he can sit on the smooth linoleum floor across from Hawks. He closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the wall and takes a few deep, slow breaths.

Finally, he says two shaky words: “Holy. Shit.”

Hawks laughs genuinely because honestly, he’s thinking the same thing.

“Is sex for you usually that good?” Hawks questions, his tone completely serious as he cocks his head to the side.

Dabi leans his head back on the wall and stares up at the florescent lights. “Never.” He shifts his gaze to take in Hawks’ expression. “You?”

“Nope. I actually don’t usually cum that easily.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Huh.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, neither sure of what to say next.

“I guess…we should get going.” Dabi says, not quite certain of himself. He reaches for his discarded clothes and gets to his feet so he can put them back on. Hawks watches, sad to see that beautiful body be swallowed up by loose black fabric.

“Yeah.” Hawks looks around for his own clothes, and then remembers that all he has available to put on are his tiny see through tank top and the bright ruby roller skates. He groans miserably, walking with resignation towards the teensy top that lays in a sad little heap under the sink. He makes a small noise of dismay – the sink pipe has been dripping water onto the already atrocious shirt. Dabi looks up at the sound.

“Oh. Hold on.” He says quickly. He ducks his head down so the hero can’t see his expression. Hawks notes that he looks almost embarrassed.

Dabi strides away from him on long legs and disappears into one of the bathrooms stalls, kicking out a familiar looking designer duffle bag.

“…is that?” Hawks sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

“Yeah I stole your fucking clothes, big deal.” Dabi shrugs, kicking the extremely high-end duffle across the linoleum floor towards Hawks. “I wanted to see you squirm for a bit when you realized you had to stay in that slutty little outfit.”

“Ugh. Why are you literally the worst. This day has been just awful.” Hawks grabs for the bag, pulling it towards him across the gross linoleum floor.

“I hope it wasn’t all awful.” Dabi says, almost jokingly. He strolls over to the sink so he can adjust his turtleneck collar in the mirror.

Hawks ignores the comment. “I can say with confidence that I will never be wearing roller skates again after today.”

“I dunno. After blowing you on wheels…maybe I have a weird shitty kink for skates now. You’d need to put them on again so I can be sure.” Dabi says, watching Hawks riffle through his bag behind him through the mirror. He runs long fingers through his jet-black locks, refocusing his eyes on himself as he tries to flatten his sex hair.

“Cumming makes you chatty, does it?” Hawks bites back, grinning despite himself. He’s thrilled to see all of his clothes and equipment in the bag where he left them. He makes a mental note to sweep the bag for tracking equipment later before he arrives back home.  He does an initial check – patting his hands along the bottom of the bag and around the zippers.

“Don’t think this changes anything between us.” Dabi says suddenly, almost harshly, as he turns the sink faucet and begins to splash cold water on his pale, aristocratic cheeks.

“How do you mean?” Hawks turns to look at him over his shoulder.

“I know how you hero types work. You probably think now that we’ve fucked we’re in love and you can change me and bring me over to the side of the light.” Dabi chuckles and crosses his arms across his chest. “That is definitely not happening.”

“You are so damn full of yourself.” Hawks snorts, turning back to the bag so he can pull out his precious designer sweatpants. He unfolds the soft, decadent material carefully and rises to his feet so he can pull them on. He discards the slutty photo shoot shorts, tossing them over Dabi’s shoulder and into the garbage can by the sink. He stands naked for a moment, grinning when he sees Dabi’s eyes dance across his body from their reflection in the mirror. He sticks a foot into the pant leg and starts to pull them on. “You’re well beyond saving.”

Dabi grins appreciatively at him through the mirror. “Don’t I know it.”

“And I promise not to fall in love with your sorry ass.” Hawks pulls on his soft expensive t-shirt. He doesn’t miss the way that Dabi’s eyes drink in one last glance at his abs and chest as he pulls the fabric down over his stomach. “But maybe…”

“Hm?”

Hawks feels his cheeks burn red with heat as he adjusts his shirt to fit more comfortably around his wings.

“Maybe we can call a temporary truce whenever we want to…hook up.” He coughs out the last words.

“Bold of you to assume I’d sleep with you again.” Dabi sneers, but his mouth is tilted up in the tiniest of grins.

“I’m sorry…” Hawks says boldly as he fishes his specialty headphones out of the duffle and hangs them around his neck. “…Did I not just give you the best head of your life? I assumed you’d want a follow up. Or better yet…” Hawks grabs his socks and sneakers and starts pulling them on as he avoids Dabi’s gaze. “I bet you’d jump at the chance to feel my cock inside you.”

“And just what makes you think I’d let you top me?” Dabi spits out, sounding insulted.

Hawks shrugs indifferently. “I’ll bottom. I don’t particularly care when it comes to things like that. Either way, I’m a great lay. Ha! That rhymed.” Hawks says, finally fully clothed. Admittedly, the orgasm was a good full system reset. He feels loose and relaxed for the first time all day. He rolls out his shoulders and stretches, letting his shirt creep up his toned stomach to give Dabi once last thing to look at.

“I bet we’d have really good bed chem.” Hawks says with a cheeky wink, catching Dabi’s bright aqua eyes.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dabi narrows his eyes in a glare, thinking Hawks is making fun of him somehow.

“Its, uh, a song by Sabrina Carpenter.” Hawks rattles off. He didn’t realize that Dabi was so out of touch with pop culture, but given that the villain has been on the run for the better part of the last few years it kind of makes sense that he wouldn’t be up to date on the latest in pop music. “It means we’d have good chemistry in bed.”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. Jesus Christ you’re annoying.” Dabi rolls his eyes and grabs a paper towel to wipe off his damp face and arms.

“Listen, ya big baby. What I’m saying is that I’d be up for sleeping together again. Don’t think too much into it.” Hawks rolls his eyes and pulls his hoodie out of his bag before zipping the duffle closed.

“Huh. Alright. Maybe.” Dabi says noncommittally. “I’ll be at PLF HQ next week. If I see you there…well we can figure it out then.”  Without even a backward glance at the now fully clothed Hawks, he turns to unlock the door and leave.

“Dabi – hold on.” Hawks grabs him by the wrist and yanks him backwards and away from the door.

“What.” Dabi looks pissed for some reason, but he turns around just in time for Hawks to plant a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on his lips. It’s quick and kind of gross, but it’s also warm.

“That’s it. See you on the flip side, villain.” Hawks turns on his heel and goes to gather up his bag and the ridiculous ruby red roller skates. Dabi can’t help but stare at the hero’s plump ass as he bends over to collect the skates. He quickly gets ahold of himself and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He slowly opens the bathroom door and disappears into the crowded roller rink set.

Hawks takes a minute to gather his things and ­finally splash some cold water on his face. His body is buzzing and electric, but in a nice way this time. He’s wearing shoes without wheels. He’s got his plush, comfy clothes on. His headphones are in place should he need them. …And then there’s the fact that he just had the hottest sex of his life with a fucking villain in a neon green roller rink rest room.

After a few minutes of preening at his hair and outfit, he emerges from the bathroom and out into the chaos of the post-photo shoot set. Less time has passed than he realized – the crew is still cleaning up, many of them taking a snack break at the craft services table.

The art director’s assistant waves to him as he exits the small bathroom.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! The costuming department doesn’t have your stuff so we’re going to lend – oh! You found your clothes.” She looks relieved. The PA Hawks had sent off earlier in search of his duffle is nowhere to be seen.

“Yeah, I guess I just misplaced it in the bathroom while getting ready! Silly me!” Hawks plays off, turning up his beloved hero charm. “But I wasn’t sure where to put these.” He holds up the pair of shiny red skates with one hand. “Can you get them back to wardrobe for me?”

“Oh! The art director said you can keep them – they’re a gift.” The assistant says, smiling warmly.

“Oh, thanks.” Hawks glances down at the skates unhappily.

“We’re done for the day – you’re good to leave! But we’d love for you to stay for the crew after party.” The woman looks up at him through her lashes, blushing as she implores him to stay.

“Aw, thanks I’d really love to – but I’ve got an early morning patrol.” Hawks says apologetically, covering his mouth a bit with his hand as he lies through his teeth. “Thanks for everything, though. Really. Excited to see the final photos!” And with that he turns on his heel and boogies his way out of the roller rink. He waves gratefully to the models and crewmembers as he speed walks towards the exit. As he goes, he unzips his bag and tosses the offensive skates inside.

The minute his feet hit the pavement outside, he propels himself high into the air. His wings unfurl and relief flows through him as he takes in the feeling of being free in the wide, endless sky. He breathes in deeply, reveling in the expansive silence. He wings his way towards home, his mind lingering on thoughts of Dabi – his hands, his body, and his mouth.

He ditches his designer bag in a trashcan a few blocks away from his apartment (yes, Dabi did in fact have it bugged with a tiny tracker). He enters his loft apartment carrying nothing but his keys the bright red skates. He discards both in the entryway, tucking in his wings and shedding his clothes as he makes a beeline for his luxurious shower.

Minutes later he’s finally, blissfully, standing beneath a hot stream of water. He closes his eyes and sighs gratefully as he lathers his wings up with expensive oil, and his thoughts wander back to Dabi.

Where is Dabi sleeping tonight? Is it warm enough? Is he taking a nice, long shower after the days events? Has he been fed? Does he have a soft bed and change of clothes waiting for him at the Paranormal Liberation Front’s headquarters?

These thoughts linger with him as he towels off, chomps away at a TV dinner, and eventually tucks himself into bed. He sprawls out across the king sized mattress, his wings splayed out comfortably behind him as he stares up at the ceiling. For the first time he notices how empty the bed feels with just him in it. Alone with his thoughts, he dares to let his mind wander. He wonders if Dabi would like sharing a bed? Would he find it comfortable to be folded up into the warm plush blankets, maybe with one of Hawks’ wings draped over him like a quilt? Would he pretend to hate the closeness, but allow himself to be cuddled anyway? Would he let Hawks kiss him slow and deep until they fell asleep?

He shuts off his light and stares up into the darkness, wondering. Maybe even wishing a little.

“I bet we’d have good bed chem.” He mutters to himself, a small smile pulling at his lips as his brain supplies Dabi’s likely response – an eye roll accompanied with a gravely “You’re an idiot.”

Yeah, he really is, isn’t he?

Hawks folds away his dreaming, aching heart and wills himself to go to sleep. There’s work to be done with the Commission. Plans to be carried out. In a world on the brink of quirk-fueled civil war, there’s no room for romance with a villain. And so, there’s no room for Dabi.

His eyes flutter shut and his breathing evens out. He falls into a deep, comfortable sleep. But his dreams are permeated with flashes of a patchwork face, bright aqua eyes, a brilliant toothy smile, and an arrogant laugh.

You can’t help the things your heart longs for.

End.

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OMG!!! Let me know what you think! I've been wanting to write a full DabiHawks fic forever! I hope you all enjoyed!

XOXO,

RedRiotUnbreakableHeart ❤️

P.S. Want to read more of my smutty fluffy fics!? Here's the link to 🔥My Masterlist.🔥

Stay safe out there, y'all!

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! Can I request a little fic where the Reader (GN) is with Mereel and they're kind of the opposite of him in personality (quiet, a little more reserved in public, a little more hesitant) and they're worried they won't measure up to him in the long term?

They just think he's so great and charming and charismatic that people seem to trip over themselves just to talk to him (in Legends, he has a reputation among his brothers for being a bit of a ladies' man/flirt), and it makes them wonder if they deserve to be with him.

So, they voice their insecurities to him bc communication is important and he assures them that he only wants them.

Thank you in advance!

Opposites Attract

Summary: Mereel is everything you ever wanted with a partner, but you’re not blind to your differences. And sometimes you can’t help but wonder what he sees in you.

Pairing: Mereel Skirata x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1226

Warnings: Reader is self-conscious about their relationship

A/N: This is a good request, I love it. But I also love Mereel! Thanks for making it~

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You don’t like parties. They’re too loud, and there’s too many people, and you never know what to say to them. It’s not like you’re the most interesting person in the world, after all.

And so, every time  you come to one of these parties, you find a comfortable place in a corner, near a window, and you read something on your comm or play a game, and you just wait until the party is over.

This has never been your scene. 

You’ve always been a little more quiet than your peers. More reserved. More hesitant. You wouldn’t be surprised if none of your old classmates even remembered your name, let alone your face.

The only reason you come to these parties is because of Mereel. Your boyfriend is an extrovert, not to mention he’s handsome and charismatic. It’s no surprise to you that people trip over themselves to get to talk to him.

It’s also no surprise to you that he’s so popular with women at these parties. No doubt more than one of these women are hoping that he’ll take them home for the night. 

There was a time he would, after all.

Though he hasn’t done that since he started dating you.

Your gaze lifts from your comm, and the book that you’re reading, and you find Mereel with ease. As you expect, he’s surrounded by women, and men, who seem to be doing their best to win his attention.

You don’t blame them. 

Mereel is gorgeous, after all. He looks especially good in the loose fitting tee-shirt and jeans you bought him. 

A tiny smile lifts your lips when his gaze meets yours, and he tosses you a grin and a wink, before he continues talking to his adoring audience. 

You really do love him so much. You love him when he’s being charming, you love him when he’s being goofy, and you love him when he’s being annoying.

But, the more you go to these parties, and the more you see how Mereel interacts with the people around him, and the more you see just how popular Mereel is, you can’t help but wonder if maybe he deserves better than you. Or, maybe you don’t deserve to be with someone so amazing.

You know that some of his friends here think that you’re not good enough for Mereel. They haven’t been shy about making comments to you. Though lately it’s become much more subtle.

It’s only a matter of time before Mereel starts getting invited to these parties with a note asking him to leave you behind when he comes to these parties. 

And then what?

Your best guess is that Mereel will realize that you don’t fit this lifestyle, and he'll apologize to you as he breaks up with you, and then you’ll have to find a new job because watching him hook-up with his flavor of the week would destroy you.

You jump when a light, familiar, hand landson the top of your head. Mereel is standing over you, a worried look on his handsome face, though it quickly turns into a warm smile when you shoot him a bewildered look.

“You alright, cyare?”

You nod, even more confused, “Yes?”

His dark eyes scan your face, looking for…what, you aren’t sure, but after a long 30 seconds his hand moves from the top of your head to cup your cheek, “Let’s get out of here,” Mereel says after a moment, “I’m starving.”

You squint at him suspiciously, “Are you sure? You looked like you were having fun.”

For a moment, he looks like he wants to say something, but instead he just grins and brushes his thumb across your cheekbone, “Yeah, cyare. I’m ready to get out of here.” He offers you his hand, “Come on.”

You watch him for a moment, and then you take his hand and allow him to tug you to your feet. You’re not going to complain about being able to leave this party early. 

You hope he’s feeling alright, though. He never wants to leave these things early.

Mereel tugs you out of the house, and into the brisk air of the night, his hand tight around yours. Not so tight that he’s hurting you, but tight enough that you have the feeling that he wants you close.

After several minutes of quiet walking, you bump your shoulder against him, “Are you feeling alright?” You ask, “You never want to leave those parties early.”

He glances at you, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You stare at him, doubtfully.

Mereel laughs softly, “Really, cyare. I promise I’m feeling fine.”

“Alright, if you say so.”

Several minutes later he stops and turns you so that he’s able to take both of your hands in his, “Cyare,” Mereel squeezes your hands and then brings them to his lips to kiss your knuckles, “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You looked sad at the party,” He explains.

“Oh, that.” You shrug, “I was just thinking.”

“What about?”

“How long before your friends start asking you to leave me behind when you go to these parties,”

“They wouldn’t.” You shoot him a look, and Mereel has the grace to look sheepish, “They might ask but I wouldn’t do that.”

You sigh softly, and slowly thread your fingers with his, “Mereel,” You hesitate, trying to think of how you want to phrase this, “I know I’m not like you.” You finally say, “I’m quieter, more reserved…”

“Cyare, that doesn’t bother me.”

“You deserve better than me and everyone knows it.” You blurt.

Mereel stares at you for a moment, “No one thinks that, cyare.”

“You don’t hear how your friends talk about me when you aren’t around.” You correct him quietly, “And they aren’t exactly welcoming to me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug again, “They’re your friends.”

He releases your hands and cups your face, “You’re more important to me.” Mereel leans in and bumps his forehead against yours, “Do I want to know what they say about you?”

“Probably not.” You admit.

He scans your face again, “Okay. Then we won’t go to those parties anymore.”

You blink at him, surprised, “You don’t have to.”

“I love you.” Mereel counters, his voice serious, “I don’t want to spend my time with people who make you feel bad for being you.” He gently tilts your head back so he’s able to brush his lips against yours, “You are my choice. Always.”

“Even though I’m not like you?”

“If I wanted to date someone who was like me, then I wouldn’t have asked you out on a date. And I wouldn’t have moved in with you.” Mereel counters, very logically.

“Your logic is illegal when I’m feeling self-conscious.”

Mereel laughs and kisses you again, and then again, “Alright. If my logic is illegal, how about we go home and I show you just how much I love you.”

“I thought you were hungry?”

His grin widens, “Starved.”

Your face heats as you note the way he’s looking at you, “Well, I guess we should head home then.” You reply.

And Mereel laughs before he catches your lips again. You’re not worried about your place in his life anymore…though you might be a little worried about what he’s going to do to his former friends.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[physalian]

Wicked (part 1) was a solid adaptation

Saw Wicked last night. Only seen the musical once and for a movie longer than both halves of the original combined, the extra added minutes aren’t wasted. I can't exactly praise a movie for storytelling when its legwork was done near beat-for-beat already in the musical, and in the original book, but if you haven't or won't see anything except this film: Yes, it has a very good story.

But I want to talk about what I think is the best example of a “maybe they weren’t so terrible after all” villain redemption retcon, of which Elphaba is kind of the poster child of this whole trend. Why she works, and why something like Cruella did not. Not specific to this version at all.

Quick synopsis: Wicked is an alternate telling of the events before The Wizard of Oz, the backstory of the Good Witch Glinda and the Wicked Witch of The West. It is not the story of how good triumphed over evil, how Elphaba devolved or perhaps was always mean and nasty and underdog Glinda saved the day.

Instead, it’s a deeply political (and whoo boy is it relevant today) smear campaign against the disenfranchised and the minority population of Oz—the talking animals. Elphaba is the underdog, an up-and-coming bright-eyed sorceress taken under the wing of her magic school’s legendary professor, with hopes to one day meet the Great Wizard of Oz. There she meets mean-girl Galinda and for about half a classic mean-girl storyline, the two are enemies. Galinda makes amends, the two become friends, and they go together to Oz to meet the Wizard…

Who is an even worse man behind the curtain than in the ‘39 movie, a charlatan and a fraud, who, when Elphaba refuses to let him abuse her magic to scapegoat the talking animal community, launches said smear campaign, turning Elphaba into a pariah. Galinda (now Glinda) stays behind as the events of Wizard of Oz play out, using her socio-political savviness to help Elphaba where she can. Oh, and the melting? Well, the Wizard isn’t the only master of illusions.

—

The ingredients are all there for a ridiculously base “girl boss” plot about this OP Mary Sue who just will not get taken seriously by the ugh “men” around her (and this is absolutely a feminist storyline screaming high notes from the rooftops) until she shows them all they’re idiots and fools and she’s amazing. The bullying classmates, Glinda’s narcissism, Elphaba’s unprecedented raw power with magic.

Except it has the one thing so many recent “girl boss” movies don’t: You like Elphaba and she’s not perfect, and, you like Glinda (eventually). She’s not arrogant and flawless. She’s introverted and can come off as rude and unfriendly but she just lacks foundational relationships to help her socialize, and in the face of the shallow dipshits at her school, she has every reason to be rude and unfriendly.

Glinda, too, is naïve, but not cruel, save for one moment where she immediately owns up to it once she realizes how badly she screwed up, risking the thing she cares about most—her reputation and popularity and likability—to help a girl who selflessly gave her the other thing she cares about most: The chance to also become a sorceress.

But most importantly: Elphaba is a victim, not the architect of so much of this story. Mary Sues do everything right without any effort, they don’t struggle, they don’t overcome any fears or prejudice or limitations. Elphaba isn’t the one loudly and proudly demanding an audience with the Wizard. She isn’t going around praising herself and her abilities. She has a lot of power, but never learned how to use it, and she doesn’t luck into her story, she’s explicitly, strategically manipulated into her role.

She'd be more of a Mary Sue if the Wizard's offer was genuine and he was actually a good person, then she really would have lucked her way into fortune by virtue of being inexplicably adept at magic. But she's not, and he's not.

The story manages to build her up without dragging everyone else down. Nor does she "turn evil" because the Wizard doesn't respect her for being green, or a woman, he doesn't give a shit, he just wants what she can do for him. She "turns evil" because they have deeply different philosophies and he's standing in her way and she has no other choice but to flee and become a fugitive. She chooses this, the Wizard doesn't kick her out.

But even before that, Elphaba does become popular, her shallow classmates do start to like her (disproving any notion about how the world will hate her no matter what she does, so fuck ‘em), Glinda does actually have a heart and she is smart, just in a very different school of thought from Elphaba. The influence of the Wizard is just so strong that of course they’re going to believe his lies.

It’s not a story about how “this villain was actually the victim of a Tragic Backstory and you should feel bad for them because it’s even sadder than the hero’s” it’s “this villain was actually the victim of a smear campaign, and the heroes are still heroes, but here’s the other side of who they were fighting”.

But it also works because of the story that it is. Ignoring the actual Oz books (and there are many of them): Precedent already exists in the ‘39 movie—the Wizard is already revealed to be a charlatan. Wicked doesn’t rip up the old script, tell you you’re wrong, and then plop in a whole new story that fucks the continuity. Nor does it ask you to change your mind about a villain who doesn’t really deserve redemption in the first place, like, say, one who skins puppies to wear their fur. Instead, it digs into the fissures that were already there and pulls up the rocks to reveal what’s underneath.

And, Elphaba knows she’s going to be seen as a villain, but she’s not happily engaging in “villainy”. She’s doing what she thinks is right, something the audience should agree with, and is choosing to become a pariah to get her way. She never becomes a “villain”, just the antagonist to the hero’s journey, and I don’t remember the ’39 movie perfectly, but “this little rat from another world dropped a house on my sister and is on her way to kill me, too” would make one justifiably upset.

But overall, it’s just a story with layers and nuance that’s sorely missing in its contemporaries, and, like I said, deeply political without strawmanning either side (wellllllllll...). And, it respects the source material.

I also don’t remember the first Maleficent that well, but I think that also did a good job? Back when the live-action remakes weren’t all hot garbage.

So. Yeah. You want to write a powerful female character very explicitly being a feminist icon (and the consequences that come with it)? Elphaba is the perfect example.

[kiwibirdlafayette]

i was told once that sometimes i have trouble fittin in with other fancontent makers because im seen as a “threat” (whatever that means) but trust me when i say i am not here to compete with yall. Zero interest in fact. i dont think fandom is meant to be a game of who can be the ‘best’ fan and im here to just yknow. contribute to a community :]

If it seems like Im loud and sometimes pushy about people seein my stuff its because im passionate about and proud of a with what ive made and i want to share with the other people who are also enjoyers of that thing!!

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[pokemonfrommemory]

Chansey replacement

[paimonial-rage]

My most interacted with fics:

Cocky Bastard Vibes (Zhongli)

Tipsy Tales (Anemo boys)

Why He Rejected You (pt 1)

Telling Them Off (Ayato, Venti, Xiao)

A Sight to Behold (Yae Miko)

Obvious (Neuvillette)

Simple (Alhaitham)

What Destiny Has Brought (Fischl)

Why He Rejected You (pt 2)

Blasphemous Assumptions (Zhongli)

[britneyshakespeare]

you know i don't use amazon but something i often think about. several years ago my mom ordered me some books for my birthday on amazon and one of them i asked for was the oxford world's classics edition of the rover and other plays by aphra behn edited and with an introduction by jane spencer. it was supposedly new but when it got to me, the cover (paperback) was folded at an angle and the edges of the pages were dirty like they were left somewhere contaminated. and you see i don't mind like a not-pristine book at all; most of my books are used. but what the fuck was that.

[onebizarrekai]

okay yes technically the 'no' answer on the poll has the most votes, but if you add up all the options as intended, the zelda fans are winning by 72.5% (so far)

honestly I am THRILLED that this zelda fans have popped up already, even if they've only played some of the games. you guys know where it's at

[musical-chick-13]

Who do I feel as though genderbent mello would get girboss treatment

See, I go back and forth on this, because my instinctive reaction is that you are absolutely right. There's the whole implied Catholicism thing (people love to use that as an aesthetic, which, fair, I used to be Catholic we have some banger art and designs), there's the leather and Fashion Choices™, there's the "is a criminal who kills people but isn't The Worst One Here" and there's the "main target of their ire is an unpopular character" all of which are prime traits for fandom girlboss-ification.

The conflict I find myself having, though, is that this character is. Angry. That's kind of his Thing™. And if he were a woman........people really don't like angry women. Especially if they act out about it. If they're lucky, all that happens is they get called "crazy" or "hysterical." But most of the time they get called [insert gendered insult or death threat here]. (Remember when I got harassed multiple times irl for simply dressing up as a fictional character at a con, good times.) A female version of this character would have "conventionally attractive thin young person" to her advantage, and people are kinder to female characters if they fit into that category than if they don't. And, again, a major source of this character's anger involves their misplaced disdain for a character the fandom at large (sadly, incorrectly) does not have a ton of love for. And those things might be enough to override the general fandom distaste for destructive anger in female characters.

I'm going to go into this further in my "almost-genderbent DN" post (which is. it's coming. I just. chronic illness. words.), but I guess it would depend on how unhinged (and, specifically in what ways she is unhinged) the story makes this genderbent version of her. Some types of "unhinged" are seen as delightful or even narratively palatable, and some aren't. Because there is a general-fandom threshold between, "The crimes make her cool™" and "The crimes make her the devil incarnate" and I'm trying to fully parse out where exactly that threshold is. And once I have a more concrete idea of it, all of you will be the first to know. :)

(Another factor in whether or not she gets Girlbossed™ is probably to what extent (if any) genderbending her changes her relationship with Matt. Because they're a pretty popular ship, and if a character choice makes a ship more or less appealing in the eyes of the fandom...historically, that's going to change the general perception of that character.)

[silverhairedinu]

since sess isnt going to participate in valentine’s day, i will touch on the yōkai equivalent :  mating rituals!  instead of gifting prospective partners chocolates, or flowers for a yōkai they take a more  . . .  practical approach. at least, in part.   matches are only made possible by the pursuer proving their worth in strength first and foremost, and ability to provide.  emotions are not typically present in yōkai partners --  at least, not always / initially.  but even still, someone like sesshōmaru would still desire to prove his capabilities as a strong partner by presenting his intended with gifts he hunted.  strong beasts, other yōkai, their enemies or perhaps other suitors, to show how unworthy they were.  that is typically how it begins;  and then, depending on the yōkai, the gifts may be more personal.  handmade kimonos or garments that hold a personal touch (  in seshōmaru’s case, perhaps colors of his crest / house;  or colors / patterns he knows they prefer and that look good on them );  weapons crafted for their use and protection;  possibly small trinkets or jewelry that the one he is courting likes, not but in excess.  even he, as yōkai noble, prefers not to have much in the way of jewelry, in part due to personal taste and to be practical, given that he spends much time being engaged in battle.  these are all traits of showing strength, dedication, a willingness ( and ability ) to provide for various needs;  not only the base ones, like protection and food, but also that he knows their preferences, has watched them with a keen eye, and listened with a keen ear, and tailored his courting style and gifts to compliment them and their interests / desires, while keeping true to his own traditions and desires.

[welpnotagain]

I wrote out like two quite long posts. Anyway it boils down to:

If you post something online, especially a subjective opinion, you are opening yourself up to be disagreed with. This is to be expected. You are not alone on the internet and it is not reasonable to act like you are receiving hate and/or are "being cancelled" simply because people are disagreeing with you. If you think your opinion is entitled to stay entirely unopposed you probably shouldn't post it.

[queershakespeare]

do you ever get one too many annoying comments in the notes of one of your posts and have to white-knuckle yourself out of getting in a fight with strangers online who have misunderstood your original intention