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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 1 year ago

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Pro-hero Dynamight who loves having his pretty little partner working for his agency.

He gets the biggest kick out of flustering you too, ignoring your weak protests when he comes up behind you in the copy room, pressing soft open mouthed kisses to your neck as he presses you into the counter

All he does is chuckle when you whine about someone possibly seeing, his breath warm against your skin. “What’s the point of owning the building if I can’t love on you anytime I want?”

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #Bakugou blurb #t.writes #thecowboyanonwrites

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zonigiri · 2 years ago

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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎'𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

pairing: gojo x f!reader

summary: inspired by this post by @gojoest and tags/addition by @kagelun. i have nothing to say for myself (sorry)

wc: 1.2k

cw: fluff, gojo being gojo & divider credits to @saradika!

a/n: wrote the outline for this fic in my 20mins break at work and finished it mostly on bus rides to and from work. felt like i needed that to be mentioned somewhere

"I hate when you do that," Gojo whined from his place on the bed, lying with his limbs spread out. He had a habit of making the queen sized bed look like a single whenever he was even partially horizontal on it.

"Do what?" you ask absentmindedly, in the middle of putting your clothes back on.

"That."

"Toru we've been over this, I'm not moving in with you. Living with you would drive me actually insane."

You're facing away but you can feel his pout deepen. You hear the tell tale sounds of the bed squeaking and you know the menace you call your boyfriend, is making his way over to you with an impassioned defense. He might as well have flashcards with him and sometimes you wonder how if he wasn't a man-child with such ridiculous hills to die on, or the strongest sorcerer in this world, in an alternate universe he would've made a decent lawyer.

"That's not what I was talking about but now that you've brought it up, I can think of at least 5 reasons why-"

"Gojo," you turn to face him with a pointed stare. He withers under your gaze and your use of his formal name and you go back trying to get the clasps of your bra to get to stick to the intended hooks, instead of the one above or the one below. After a few moments of fiddling, you give up fighting a losing battle.

"Can you do my clasps?"

You look over your shoulder at Gojo, glance at your hands and look back at him expectantly. He shifts to stand behind you, fingers gentle and unsure as you feel them on your back. You let go of the straps in your hand and wait patiently.

"This is what I meant, you know."

You tilt your head to the side a little and because over months Gojo has learned to read your little gestures like a book, he knows that despite your silence that's a sign for him to continue. Not that he ever needed one anyway.

"Why do you need to wear when you have all the support you need right here?"

Gojo cups your breasts with his large hands. You lightly smack his hands with yours but all that makes him do is give them a little squeeze.

"Look at how much better I am at this! I can hold them exactly the way you want them to!"

Like a child at a science fair demonstrating his beloved project, Gojo proceeds to squeeze your breasts closer together along with his words. You let out a sigh and a little shake of your head, and you decide to humour him to try and beat him at his game.

"...plus my hands are so much warmer! And they're definitely more comfortable than some of these godawful ones."

He glares dirtily at your open lingerie drawer.

"That's not what you called them when I wore them for you last Friday."

"You're not playing fair," he mumbles into your neck.

You give it some time, basking momentarily in the warmth of Gojo's body so close to yours, before you place your hands over the ones covering your breasts and kiss his fingertips.

"Toru, I'm going to miss my bus, will you please do my clasps?"

"Hai," he says in a drained monotone like a school child being asked to do something dreadfully boring.

Satoru keeps his word this time and you hear the little click of the hooks attaching in place. Tugging your bra to make yourself comfortable, you turn around in his arms to place a sweet kiss on Gojo's lips, "Thank you baby."

Leaving him standing, you walk over to pick up your jumper and you quickly slip into it. While pulling up your jeans you noticed Gojo's attention had shifted and he was now inspecting the contents of your drawer. Picking up the straps of cloth and lace and trying to figure them out with the face of someone trying to solve a nuclear equation with utmost concentration.

You don't have to wait for long to know what he's thinking, you hardly do. Gojo never shies away from voicing his opinions. All of them, no matter how inane or inappropriate.

"You know, I think I'd be better at designing these."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! I mean you keep saying the wire hurts and…" you hear bits and pieces of what he says , his voice full of robust conviction while you finish getting ready. In the meantime, Gojo appears to have taken a serious interest in the construction of female lingerie. You didn't have the heart to explain the intricacies of women's fashion and how since ages, pain and discomfort was woven into the very fabric and principle. Not right now anyway, while you were already running late for a bus with a temperamental schedule and a history of not following it. You looked into the mirror for a last quick check to make sure everything was in place and you walked over to your boyfriend, still somewhat lost in thought. You took his face between your hands, squished him gently and kissed him after letting go.

"Bye baby, love you!"

As always Gojo's lips stay on yours for a little longer, even after you pull away. Ending kisses is not something Gojo excels at, especially not when they're with you. He pulls away reluctantly and with that, you're gone. The door behind you shuts with a little click and Gojo's left to his own devices for the day.

Later that night you're cuddled in bed with him, his limbs wrapped around you like a blanket, the only way he knows how. Gojo's voice pipes up in the dark, "You know, I think I've figured out how to make it work."

"Hm?"

"How to make the bras work without hurting. I even came up with designs, I think you'd like them."

There's silence, but he knows you're awake and you're listening. He knows the rhythm of the way your chest rises and falls when you're asleep in his arms.

"I even came up with the name of the company."

You shuffle a little in his hold to turn to face him. Even when lying down, his face is a whole head above yours.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Gojo's secret."

It takes a while for it to sink in and then your laughter rings out in the dead of the night. A genuine, hearty outburst at his very earnest response. It gets you an offended, "Hey! It's a good name! I mean I might run into copyright issues but I…" and Gojo pulls you closer to him in efforts to get you to listen to him seriously but you don't hear the rest of it very clearly over the sound of your own laugh. With every next word that comes out of his mouth you collapse into a fresh fit of giggles and Gojo complains that you're not listening to his flawless 7-step-plan to take over the whole industry that he spent all day thinking up. Pouty that you're not taking him seriously, despite the fact that you almost never do, Gojo untangles you (gently) from his grasp and turns around to face the other way.

" 'm not talking to you."

You're used to his antics by now so you turn to spoon him, throwing your leg over his with abandon and slipping your hand over his chest. You hear a little "hmph" uttered under his breath without any real malice but all it does is make you squeeze him a little tighter (lovingly).

"Goodnight Toru, love you."

You press a kiss to his shoulder and shuffle in closer to him to make yourself comfortable to go to sleep. The next morning when you wake up, and you wake up earlier than Gojo does, you realize the two of you are in exactly the opposite position from when you went to bed. You're curled up against Gojo, back to his chest, and one of his hands has somehow made its way through the night to loosely cup your left breast in his large hand.

#gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x yn #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x fluff #gojo satoru x yn #gojo satoru fluff #t.writes #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you

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plttwrld · 5 years ago

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— tohru’s dependents

characters. arom kunthong, matsuoka tohru, suh jules, shin yeji

genre. slice of life, crack

warnings. cursing, not proofread

about. tohru is, most certainly, not being paid enough for putting up with her members

“that’s it. i’ve had enough,” with a solemn gesture, and her will to live nowhere to be seen, arrow primly places her pencil between the pages of her notebook and pushes it with the tip of her fingers, as if she was dealing with some sort of highly contagious and inminent plague. “it was a fun ride with you guys but i’m quitting school.”

"you won’t be doing such thing, arrow,” tohru, who doesn’t even bother into taking her eyes off her own textbook, slowly slides arrow’s notebook right back to her. “now stop your tomfoolery and get over with the dang essay, jesus.”

“i’m going to die.”

and she procceds to plop over the small table and break down in what seems to be a sorrowful keyboard smash. almost automatically, tohru rolls her eyes.

"give her a break, unnie,” after having to remain silent for longer than she’s used to, yeji decides she can allow herself to disregard her own homework for a second and stick her nose into arrow and tohru’s bussiness, an absolute shit-eating grin drawn all over her pretty face. “she has way too much on her plate for her only braincell to handle.”

“i mean,” of course, jules has to butt in as well. “arrow unnie can barely read or write in thailand, i don’t know what makes you think she can do a 3 pages essay in korean.”

yeji can’t stifle a cackle, and when jules mindlessly raises a hand, she inmediatly highfives back. fucking brats.

“oh my god why you guys only get along when it comes to shit on me?” arrow, presumably over with her mental breakdown, now gasps dramatically with a hand above her chest. “it is that people’s suffering is the only way to bring you two closer?”

“okay, close is an overstatement,” jules points out, criptidly. “we’re just having fun at your expense.”

however, and for whatever reason, yeji’s gaze softens when her eyes meet jules’ and then places a hand over her shoulders, perhaps too fondly, before regarding to arrow. “she’s shy.”

“fuck off.”

it’s so in character of them, tohru can almost bask onto the homeliness of the situation. arrow whining and purposely being the comedic relief character she’s asigned herself to be in order to shy reality away and consequently the essay she procrastinated throughout the whole week, yeji and jules picking on her negative count of braincells at best and aiming for each other’s throats at worst, and tohru parenting on the three of them, as the designated mom friend and braincell-holder she was. it’s too easy, tohru muses, to fall back into routine... but duty calls, and homework wasn’t getting anywhere near to be finished, as far as she was concerned.

“ok, you two, enough with the bullying,” tohru chides, vehemently tapping her own pen to the table. “go back to your... what on earth are you doing?”

the youngests raise their brows (in a conspicuos, perfect sync), yet they don’t falter to exchange their exercise sheets with each other.

“uh, copying answers?” jules makes it sounds like she just asked the most idiotic thing ever.

“i did the first three pages and jules did the other three remaining.” yeji explains on their behalf. “it’s a strategic move. teamwork makes dreamwork... don’t give me that look, unnie. my pride is bruised enough for having to rely on jules, don’t do this to me.”

but tohru knows better, and just opts to let her disgust be known with a morose, prolongued sigh before burying her head back into her own books. she doesn’t fails to notice arrow growing impatient in her seat, though.

“toohru...”

“no.”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“you need to do the essay, arrow, and that’s non-negotiable,” tohru condemns.

“but korean is too hard!" please, tohru knows how fucked up korean is. hangul wasn’t giving her the kindest time, either. “and i’m too dumb! maybe if i just... don’t...”

“you’ve pulled that stunt so many times already, arrow,” tohru doesn’t caves in. just for whose sake she’s being so unreleting, to begin with? “and you can’t afford you grades getting any lower than this.”

“damn, you really be calling me and my low ass gpa like that, huh...” unavoidably, arrow pouts. “i don’t even know what’s the big deal. i’m going to be your personal freeloader once we graduate, anyways.”

tohru blinks, and there’s a crack on her deadpan that lasts half of a second, “i... i fail to remember when we agreed to that.”

“weren’t you goint to marry me and give me belly rubs for the rest of our lifes?”

“that is, most likely, not happening—”

“wait, so now we’re living off tohru unnie like roaches?” yeji suddenly seems interested in the conversation. “i like the plan.”

“why are you guys suddenly into the ‘plan’?” tohru is not even sure where the whole thing is heading. and to be honest? she was past to care.

“look, i’m just saying that if you’re paying for arrow’s taxes then you’re paying for all our taxes,” yeji states, so matter of factly it makes tohru rolls her eyes for what feels like the millionth time. “we’re together in this shit for life, unnie.”

“oh my god,” jules snorts. “you guys are just not coaxing tohru unnie into being your sugar mommy, are you?”

tohru’s face finally breaks into utter indignation, while yeji and arrow seem to be bubbling with excitement.

“s-spare bank account?”

god, they’re the actual worst. “next person putting ‘sugar mommy’ and my name in the same sentence is getting hydrofluoric acid in their dinner.”

any hint of a conversation dies from that point on. at the end of the day, tohru found herself forced to assist arrow with the damn essay.

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topebooklibrary · 3 years ago

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Ebook How Did I Get Here Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away {Read Online}

Ebook How Did I Get Here?: Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away {Read Online}

How Did I Get Here?: Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away

[PDF] Download How Did I Get Here?: Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away Ebook | READ ONLINE

Author : Christine Caine Publisher : Thomas Nelson ISBN : 1400226562 Publication Date : 2021-6-8 Language : eng Pages : 256

To Download or Read this book, click link below:

http://read.ebookcollection.space/?book=1400226562

DOWNLOAD PDF EBOOK

Synopsis : Ebook How Did I Get Here?: Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away {Read Online}

Do you feel lost? Disconnected? Like youâ€™re just going through the motions?When you donâ€™t know the next step to take, Godâ€™s grace empowers you with a way forward. His hope offers an anchor for the soul and a way to get back on track. His faithfulness declares that wherever you are now, he is always ready to bring you home.As a respected Bible teacher, author, and activist, Christine Caine knew that Jesus was her only anchor. But after an especially difficult season, she found herself drifting, unsure if she wanted to keep going the way she always had and asking, â€œHow did I get here?â€ as she struggled to return to the steadiness of Godâ€™s purpose for her. Where she once wanted to take ground, she now just wanted to take cover. It was a bewildering and disorienting place to beâ€”one you may also have found yourself in before.With refreshing candor and relatable humor, Christine offers biblical insights helping youidentify nine signs you are drifting off course and realign with Godâ€™s purpose;ask the right questions about your relationships with God, others, and your own heart so you can stay anchored in truth despite the worldâ€™s shifting currents;move from aÂ what-ifÂ faith to anÂ even-ifÂ faith as you discover how to trust God more deeply; andwrestle honestly with your soulâ€™s longings so we can respond to all the ways God answersâ€”even when it feels like he doesnâ€™t.Writing for all who feel empty of the spiritual passion they once knew, Christine vulnerably shares her journey of turning her eyes back to Jesus in her thoughts, prayers, actions, and the hard questions she asked along the way.

#ebook

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booklibraryonline · 4 years ago

Text

DOWNLOAD How Did I Get Here Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away Ebook

DOWNLOAD How Did I Get Here?: Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away Ebook

How Did I Get Here?: Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away

[PDF] Download How Did I Get Here?: Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away Ebook | READ ONLINE

Author : Christine Caine Publisher : Thomas Nelson ISBN : 1400226562 Publication Date : 2021-6-8 Language : eng Pages : 256

To Download or Read this book, click link below:

http://read.ebookcollection.space/?book=1400226562

eBook PDF

Synopsis : DOWNLOAD How Did I Get Here?: Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away Ebook

#readbook fileepub

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stockspress · 4 years ago

Text

Iran Aims At $1 Trillion Oil Revenue From Giant Field Development

Iran signed on Monday a US$1.3-billion cope with home corporations to double the manufacturing capability on the huge Azadegan oilfield, anticipating the rise in manufacturing to spice up its oil revenues by US$1 trillion, Iranian officers stated on the signing ceremony.

Iran’s Petroleum Engineering and Improvement Firm (PEDEC) has signed a contract with the native Petropars Group for the completion of the event of the South Azadegan oilfield, which the Islamic Republic shares with Iraq.

On the Iranian discipline, manufacturing capability is anticipated to greater than double in 30 months, to 320,000 barrels per day (bpd) from 140,000 bpd presently and from simply 45,000 bpd again in 2013, the oil ministry’s information service Shana reported on Monday.

The Iranian corporations additionally signed a deal to construct a 320,000-bpd central therapy export plant (CTEP) at Azadegan, the most important oil and fuel processing unit in Iran, which is scheduled to be constructed inside 30 months.

In response to Iranian Oil Minister Bijan Zanganeh, enhancing the Azadegan oilfield’s restoration issue by 10 % would enhance the whole manufacturing of the sector by 2.7 billion barrels, which suggests Iran might get US$1 trillion in further oil revenues sooner or later, Tehran Instances reported.

The deal for growing Azadegan is the second main oilfield contract for Iran and its home corporations this month, after an settlement to boost production capacity on the Yaran discipline, one other oilfield alongside the border between Iran and Iraq.

The Yaran discipline, which is split right into a North and South half for its improvement, has estimated reserves of some 550 million barrels of crude.

Iran has been hit onerous by U.S. sanctions imposed on the nation after President Donald Trump took workplace and pulled the U.S. out of the so-called Iranian nuclear deal. Iran’s oil exports, which had risen to greater than 2.5 million bpd by April 2018, had since fallen to about 100,000 to 200,000 bpd, according to Reuters.

By Charles Kennedy for Oilprice.com

Extra High Reads From Oilprice.com:

The post Iran Aims At $1 Trillion Oil Revenue From Giant Field Development appeared first on Stock Press.

source https://stockspress.com/2020/07/20/iran-aims-at-1-trillion-oil-revenue-from-giant-field-development/

#Recommended

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taylorrama · 7 years ago

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Red Like– (WhiteRose Poem)

She scowls and insists that I shouldn’t call her the cream to my coffee, but I really love cream and I spot the hint of a smile as she takes our empty cups away. She’s softer than she looks. Yet she lets me be the pep to her talk, the swag to her walk. I don’t like dancing, but I’ll lead her into battle against the Grimm on the outside and, now that she trusts me, the Grimm on the inside.

The spear tears through her, but I feel it, metal in her blood and mine. Her mouth gapes, but I’m the one who screams. I am red like fear, red like determination, red like– her soft blush during our early mornings. I’m still waiting for the best rose to give her, and now she rests in my lap, glowing, eyes closed. It still hurts and I’m keen on never reliving that day which rendered my comfort to dust.

Frozen days feel warmer when it snows, so may she keep drifting back to me in gentle flurries. I silently beg of every power in this world and she awakens.

She can scowl all she wants. I’ll still make sure she knows that she’s the cream to my coffee because any day vines might choke our smiles.

Heeeyy, if you like my poetry, please consider picking up my poetry collection Forgive Us Our Trespasses. Thanks!

#whiterose #ruby rose #weiss schnee #rwby #t.writing #okay to reblog #poetry

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 1 year ago

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Touya hadn’t meant to miss the call, hadn’t meant to make you listen to his voicemail box one, two, three times.

Hadn’t meant to make you cry to a silent line.

But when he finally has time to click that voicemail, your sobs crackling through the speaker, he doesn’t let it finish after that first broken I need you.

It doesn’t matter that you haven’t talked in 6 months, doesn’t matter that he’s celebrating a great ride, doesn’t matter that he’s had a couple beers.

What matters is that you’re not picking up, one, two, three calls later.

Doesn’t matter that he’s tearing down the dark road way faster than he should, phone on speaker on his dash and fist beating the steering wheel so hard he’s sure it’ll bruise.

What matters is the one, two, three, four voicemails he leaves telling you he’ll be there in four, three, two minutes.

What matters is the one, two minutes he spends banging on your door before remembering he never returned your key, leaving it open when he tears it wide and rushes in.

The two, three, four leaps it takes to get up your stairs hardly register to him.

All that matters is the sight of you, just you, lying on the bathroom floor, crying so hard that it shakes your whole body.

Because it doesn’t matter if it takes one, two, three, four hours… he’ll be there until it stops.

#cowboy touya #touya x reader #touya blurb #cowboy touya x reader #cowboy au #selfship?#I have big feelings tonight sorry #touya angst #touya comfort #mha touya #cowboy Dabi #bullrider! Touya #bullrider! dabi #selfship coded #thecowboyanonwrites #goose.writes #t.writes

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zonigiri · 2 years ago

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐄

pairing: wano!zoro x reader

summary: unfortunately, you have a crush on zoro and zoro is in love with someone else and so, cue: pining (or so you think)

wc: 3.3k

cw: fluff + reader smokes + potentially inaccurate wano arc details because I haven’t caught up with the manga but i had to get this out sorry!!

a/n: i had to get this out of my head and i haven’t written anything in a while and so reqs/ideas/feedback on asks are welcome!

Clinking glasses, boisterous laughter and sounds of revelry filled the air. The kingdom of Wano was celebrating the end of Kaido’s reign and of the ill-famed prophecy coming to fruition after two long decades. As always, your crew was in the centre of the limelight. Luffy was predictably surrounded by piles of empty plates on one side and plates loaded with food on the other. Ussopp and Chopper were merry-making, Robin, Nami and Franky were engaged in conversation with Yamato-kun and Tsuru-san, Brook was playing with some children and you couldn’t see Sanji anywhere. Probably escorting some damsel in distress somewhere, was your best bet. And in a corner of the room, surrounded by Kin’e’mon, Duke Dogstorm and Cat Viper was Zoro – all of them going through barrels of sake like running water. With the burden of Kaido off everyone’s shoulders, everyone felt lighter, freer. So why was there a heaviness in your heart?

You excused yourself from the people around you and you went outside the room to take a deep breath. Maybe looking at the stars would remind you again how insignificant your troubles were. You chastised yourself for feeling the way you did when there were people that had lost their loved ones in the war and in the years preceding it, and once again you wished that matters of the heart could be reigned over by logic. You’d carried a thing of sake with you and there were strains of faint music coming in from somewhere and so you took unladylike sips while staring up at the stars in the sky, willing all other thoughts out of your brain.

“Oi, what are you doing out here?,” a familiar gruff voice rang out behind you. Jolted out of your thoughts and nearly choking on the sake, your eyes widened as you turned around to find Zoro. However, before you could get a word in, he spoke again, and your chest felt heavy again.

“Shitty-cook was looking for you.” Oh. It was probably too much to have expected Zoro to notice your absence and come find out in the middle of a banquet with free-flowing sake. You should’ve known better.

As if right on cue, another familiar voice filled with half-hearted anger and pure annoyance called out from a distance. “Oi Marimo, where the hell have you been? Hiyori-chan’s been looking for you all night, how dare you keep a lady waiting?” Your heart lurched again hearing Hiyori’s name and as Zoro turned around to face Sanji, Sanji spotted you. His tone changed immediately as he called out to you this time, sweetly and with no trace of earlier frustration, “Hellooo YN-chan, didn’t see you there! Are you enjoying the party? Was mosshead over here, bothering you?”

“Haaa?!”

You let out a little laugh and a wave, with a smile you hoped was convincing enough, the same time as Zoro let out an accusatory curse.

“Hey, Sanji! I’m alright thanks, I was looking for you actually. Can I have a cigarette?”

“Of course, anything for you!” Sanji trips over himself trying to get out his pack of cigarettes and insists on lighting it for you. Having completed it, he turns around to see Zoro still standing there, staring at the two of you. “You stupid Marimo, didn’t I tell you Hiyori-chan’s waiting for you? Don’t you have any manners? I can’t believe she would pick you over me. She’s the most beautiful woman in the whole country, why would she even want a brute like you?! Don’t keep her waiting, you ill-mannered animal!” Sanji all but kicks Zoro, as if sending him flying to Hiyori’s feet might make up for however long she’s been waiting. For a second it looks like Zoro and Sanji are going to butt heads for the nth time but Zoro simply twists his face into a scowl, decides against it and walks off, grumbling under his breath. You turn back to rest your elbows on the parapet as you watch the smoke billow away into the night sky.

“So, Zoro and Hiyori, huh?,” you say with a little laugh.

Sanji lets out a scoff, takes a drag as if to compose himself, and then speaks, “Can you believe it?”

You don’t answer him and the two of you finish your cigarettes in silence afterwards. You offer Sanji your remaining sake and he graciously accepts. The two of you walk back to the banquet hall and instinctively your eyes scan the room for Zoro – he is nowhere to be found. And then, cautiously and against your best interests, you scan the room for Hiyori – she is nowhere to be found either. You can feel the bile rising in your chest as you scan the room a third time, this time for signs of either of them, but nothing. Putting two plus two together, you walk into the room with a heavier heart than you’d left. Walking over to the banquet table, you grab two bottles of sake and go join the group nearest to you. Chopper was putting chopsticks up his nose and the entire group was in splits – it was easy to pretend you were having fun too.

Back on the ship, you try your best to give Zoro as wide a berth as possible and hope it goes unnoticed. In your defense, it’s nothing obvious – it’s not like you’re walking the other way when you see him. You didn’t really want to either. Your heart might have been hurting but even then, you couldn’t deny how good he looked doing push-ups on the deck of the Sunny. Well into his 500’s, brazenly shirtless, and sweat glistening like molten gold on his brown skin in the sunlight. Had you not been bothered about giving him some space, you likely would’ve been staring at him shamelessly and Robin would’ve passed a cheeky comment about flies going into your open mouth. With a heavy sigh, and a slightly heavier heart, you go back to the book you were reading.

Days pass like this, with you toeing a thin line doing your best to keep your distance while trying to not make it obvious to anyone. This was just a passing crush and from past experience you’d learned that the best, and probably only way, to deal with it was to bide your time and let it fade away on its own. You only wondered how long it would take this time, because there was a limit to the pangs of pain you could tolerate.

You were sitting in the crow’s nest, knees to your chest and cradling the book you were reading when a movement drew your attention to the door. Zoro walked in with weights and set them down on the floor next to you.

“Should I- do you need the room?” you asked getting ready to get up, hoping simultaneously he’d say yes and no to appease the two splits your heart was in.

“Stay,” he grunted under his breath and he turned around and began setting up his equipment.

Long ago the two of you had come to an agreement to tolerate, and allow, only each other in this little sacred space the two of you had managed to create for yourselves on the Sunny. You reading in silence while Zoro worked out nearby was a near-natural occurrence for the two of you and naturally it often led to small talk, casual conversation and eventually playful banter. You’d spent nights up here on watch, drinking from the secret alcohol stash that Zoro and you had hidden away underneath the floorboards. The more you thought about all the memories you have of the two of you in the room where you were, the more the awkwardness of the present moment was stifling, closing in your heart and squeezing it in desperation. It was too far gone now, there was no escape. If you left now, it would make it even more obvious so all you could hope for was that Zoro hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Although with the way you’d tried to leave earlier… Zoro was an idiot but unfortunately, the bastard could be observant when he wanted to. It was all you could do to stare into the book in your hands, boring your eyes into the words on the page and registering none of them.

Wordlessly you slid back into place, watching him curiously as he arranged the weights on the racks with his back to you. Thanks to your efforts, you had never been alone with him ever since you’d left Wano. You’d made it a point to always stay on the deck, with others in company and sight, to prevent yourself from the exact situation that you were in right now. You knew Zoro liked to train in the crow’s nest, but it was also your favourite place to read a book for similar reasons – it was quiet and far away from the chaos that the deck was almost always prone to.

Speaking of the devil, Zoro's voice cuts through the room, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno, you’ve seemed a little out of it ever since we left Wano.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, we haven’t- you haven’t come up to the crow’s nest to read or anything,”

“Oh.” Your heart flutters a little at the fact that he noticed, but the rational part of your brain shuts it down. That’s what a friend does. He cares about you, just not the way you do about him. “I uh- I wanted to give you some space.”

It was Zoro’s turn to look confused. “Hah? Why?”

“I thought you might need some time to get over….” your voice dies down as the confusion in Zoro’s eyes increases. “Get over what?” The pure obliviousness almost makes you question yourself but for the sake of your sanity, you decide to press on. “Over Okiku-san?” you say softly. You see his eyes soften at the mention of her name.

“Oh. Yeah, I visited her grave with Kin’e’mon before we left.” You nodded understandingly. “If that’s what you’re worried about, I’m fine.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Miss her? I only knew her for a week.”

“Then… do you miss Hiyori-san?”

“Haaah?! How do you know about that? Did someone tell you? I bet it was Brook he has awful fucking timing. Just like that morning….” Zoro grumbled under his breath.

Your heart sinks a little as you recall he’s referring to the night that they slept together. You remember feeling devastated when Brook was telling you and Nami and you had to do everything in your power to act like it was scandalizing gossip and not like it felt like your heart was like a rock dropping rapidly into the sea. And it was happening again.

“No one told me, I just… guessed. I’m sorry,” you say softly, trying to stop tears from falling.

“What for?”

“It must suck to leave someone you love behind.” A pause and then you offered honestly, “I don’t know if I could do it.”

“Who did I leave behind?”

“Hiyori-san?”

You could see the gears in his brain turning as he tried to put the pieces together, “And who do I love?”

“Hiyori-san….?”

“Where the hell did you get that from?!”

“From you?!" Zoro continued to stare at you like you were spouting nonsense and so you added in your defense, "I thought she confessed to you on the night of the banquet!”

“She did,” but before you could say anything Zoro spoke again, "But I turned her down.”

“Oh. So it was Okiku-chan then?”

“Haaa?! Where are you getting any of this from?! You’ve been acting strangely ever since we left Wano and now you keep fuckin’ talking about me being with people I haven’t ever thought about that way. Do you think I’m like ero-cook over there, who falls in love with every single girl he meets? Is that really what you think of me?”

“No,” you whisper, tears threatening to spill any moment now. You’d never seen Zoro this annoyed, and never at you. Zoro turns around and starts putting his weights back, his back to you. “Forget it, I just wanted to see if you’re okay but I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

Your heart sank to your knees and all the arguments you'd been using to not confess to him suddenly fell away. All that was left was your need to explain to Zoro that you'd never meant to piss him off, only to try and know who he liked because you liked him. You spoke before you realized you were doing it, and before you knew it the words had already left your wobbly lips in a shaky whisper.

“Zoro, I’m sorry. I like you.”

Hearing your trembling voice, Zoro turned around and walked over to stand a few steps away from you. You could feel his eyes on you and you’re sure he had questions, but you were also sure there were tears in your eyes; and so you were staring holes into the ground because the last thing you wanted now was for Zoro to see you cry.

Zoro’s voice was softer when he spoke, “I like you too. Are you alright? You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you, right?” He didn’t know what was going on and your sudden change in behaviour only confused him even further.

Incredulous, you looked up to face him, brimming tears now forgotten. You wondered if you should let it pass since your tortured confession was wildly misunderstood by the swordsman who really had moss for brains at times but now that you’d come out and said it, you figured you might as well get it over and done with. It had taken you months to get this far, and the part of you that was sick playing pretend just wanted to let it all go to flames and see where the pieces fell in the aftermath. You weren’t sure if you could handle another day of acting like Zoro was just a friend to you and another night of going to bed wondering what it would be like if you had the courage to tell him how you felt.

“Zoro no, I like you," gathering courage you started tentatively with a shaky breath and hoped that this time the confession would go through. "I was, I was upset because Brook told us about Hiyori and you and then Luffy told us about Okiku-san and then she died the night of the fight and then- it was all a lot to process and- and I was jealous. And hurt. And I didn’t know how to handle it so I thought avoiding you would help because I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.”

Your voice went back to a wobbly whisper by the end, and so you missed the way Zoro was looking at you. You’d looked up briefly at some point during your long-winded defense but you'd gone back to the comfort of staring at the ground, talking about this was hard enough. Was it because you'd seen the way Zoro's eyes had widened? Possibly, but you were shaking with nervousness and there was only so much you could admit to on a day when all you were planning to do was finish your book, really. Hearing you talk, his expression had gone through shock, mild distaste at hearing you thought he liked Okiku which immediately changed to a smirk as soon as he heard you say you were jealous. Right now, there was only half a smirk on his face because he was fighting a smile that was threatening to show up.

“Stupid woman, why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?”

“That you liked me." Your head shot up at that and all you could do was stare wordlessly at him as he continued, each next word causing another heartbeat to miss, leaving you with an anxiousness you felt bubbling in the depths of your chest. "Could’ve avoided all these tears if you’d told me earlier. ‘Cause I like you too.”

Your eyes widened hearing him and all of a sudden your brain went blank. All the questions you had for him disappeared and all you could do was look at Zoro wordlessly as he continued to speak.

“I turned Hiyori down because I told her I like someone else, have liked, for a long time now. It’s you, dummy. I like you. Now, will you stop crying? You’re kinda ruining the moment here.”

He gently flicked your forehead and you smacked his arm out of reflex with an offended squawk. A grin broke out on Zoro’s face, “There we go, that’s my girl. Glad to have you back, princess.”

A watery smile made its way onto your face but you were still trying to process what you'd just heard.

“You turned down Hiyori-san… for me? She’s the oiran," your voice faltered as you re-realized the reality.

“Yeah, so?"

"She's the most beautiful girl in all of Wano."

"Yeah well, I think you're prettier." Your eyes widened at his words, tears long halted, as you looked up at him in awe. Like you couldn’t believe the moment you're in is real. Zoro's hands cup your face, his face inches away from yours, as he asks under his breath, "Can I- can I kiss you?"

You nod as if in a daze and you feel his lips on yours immediately afterwards, hungry and hot. His other hand grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him in a single jerk and then he digs his fingers into the skin of your waist, holding you so tight it would've hurt had you been focusing on that instead of drinking his gasps and little groans in. Breaking away from the kiss and looking into Zoro's eyes, you saw a searing look in there that would've buckled your knees had he not been holding you. Tiptoeing, you pressed a shorter, chaste kiss onto his lips and hoped Zoro could feel what you were trying to say: thank you, thank you.

Pulling away, you make yourself comfortable in Zoro's hold, looping your arms around his neck and when you speak there's a twinkle in your eyes, "So… you had a crush on me, huh? That's embarrassing."

"Oi! You said you liked me first!"

You throw your head back and laugh, because yeah he's got you there but you've got him now so you can't be a sore loser. Not today, anyway.

BONUS:

It's late at night and you're lying next to Zoro on the deck, staring up at the sky. The remainder of the day was spent skirting around each other, sharing furtive glances and shy smiles when others weren't looking. Telling others hadn't come up yet but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't been thinking about what this meant for the both of you. With that thought still lingering, you piped up.

"Soo, does this mean we're dating?"

"Nope."

"What?! Why not?" you cried out in indignation and propped yourself up on your elbows to turn to him, offense painted all over your face.

"You still have to ask me out," Zoro pointed out.

"I confessed to you!"

"Exactly, that's why you have to ask me out."

"You-" The logic didn't make any sense but you of all people knew it was futile to argue with Zoro when he'd made up his mind. So you lay back down with a sigh, "Fine. Fine. Roronoa Zoro, will you be my boyfriend?"

You turn to him after you finish your question, staring into his eyes with only a slight glare, loving annoyance pricking your tone but you both know it's harmless. Zoro matches your stare with his own and doesn't speak but leans in closer towards you to close the gap with a kiss he hopes answers your question: a resounding yes. But just in case you hadn't received the message, he mumbles it softly against your lips, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to say yes."

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece x reader #zoro x yn #roronoa zoro x yn #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro fluff #one piece fluff #one piece x yn #t.writes #roronoa zoro

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 2 years ago

Text

Resistance

Summary: Dabi returns to retrieve the sweatshirt he mistakenly left in your apartment,

Genre: angst with comfort, fluff

CW: mentions of sex, mentions of choking, cursing (?), Dabi is in denial about his feelings (surprise, surprise), smoking

Word Count: 1,126

Pairing: Dabi x gender-neutral reader

Dabi falls for you slowly, dragging his feet as his heart leads him back to you time and time again, despite how he protests.

And protest he does. Forces himself to stay away for weeks at a time, forces himself to avoid your part of town, just in case he can’t resist the pull of your smile.

But inevitably, he gets a little too high, a little too drunk, and he finds himself tapping that soft pattern on your window. It’s suspiciously close to the melody of the song playing when he first kissed you, laying in the middle of your living room all those months ago, but you’d never dare to ask.

Everytime he gives in is the same, whether he’s drunk or sober, with lots of whispered apologies and confessions of how he missed you. He pretends not to care what the answer is when he asks if he can kiss you, and you never fail to see the way his eyes light up when you tell him yes.

For a while, things will return to normal, where he’ll sneak in late at night, hold you in ways no other man has ever been allowed to. It’s sweaty skin pressed together, dark strands sticking to your face when he presses his forehead against yours, and whispered praises against your throat right next to his palm circling it.

And then one morning, he’ll be gone again, without a trace. It’s comfortable for him, leaving like a ghost. He’s sure it’ll make things easier when he inevitably leaves for good.

Except he’s bound to make a mistake eventually. He just wishes it’s not in the form of his favorite sweatshirt left crumpled on your couch where he’d let you tug it off him, hands slipping over his skin.

For a week straight, he debates leaving it, but eventually decides there’s no reason he can’t sneak in and take it back, missing its warmth and the anonymity it provided when he went out.

He waits until the light shuts off behind your curtains, smoke billowing from his lips as he sits on the rooftop edge of the building across from your apartment, mentally mapping out the location of your furniture so he can slip in and slip out quickly in the dark.

Your living room window is unlocked like usual when he tries it, and he shakes his head in disapproval, muttering under his breath about all the trouble you could invite into your life with your bad habits.

The irony isn’t lost on him, but he swallows the guilt quickly before it can overwhelm him and convince him to see you, opting to search your living room instead.

He’s frustrated to find it’s not in the exact spot he left it, but not surprised, given how much time has passed. He’s silent as he creeps along the hall to your room, the door open as if you knew he’d be coming by.

Or maybe just hoping.

The light from the city washes you in a white haze, and he’s surprised to see you curled up into yourself rather than sprawled out like usual, your hands tucked in close to your face.

He risks a closer look, eyes scanning over your sleeping form, and surprise ripples through him when he finally realizes you’re wrapped in his sweatshirt, the black material baggy on you.

He sucks in a breath at the sight, feet shuffling closer until he’s standing directly over you, and it’s only then that he notices the tear tracks that streak down your cheeks, and the way your brows are furrowed unhappily even in sleep.

He feels a pang in his chest as he wonders if this is because of him, if this is his affect on your life. He wants to be able to shrug and leave, wants to roll his eyes and huff at you for being so emotional, but he can’t bring himself to pretend.

Instead, he crouches down to eye level with you, resting his arm on the edge of the bed as his chin settles on it. He watches you for a moment, the way your breath puffs out between your lips, the way your frown seems to deepen occasionally and you press deeper against the material of his clothes.

Finally, he can’t take it anymore, and he lifts his other hand, knuckles running lightly over the swell of your cheek. You’ve never been a light sleeper, but it doesn’t take long before your eyes are fluttering open and you’re peering at him in confusion.

“Dabi?” Your voice is low, and emptier than he can ever recall it being in his presence.

His lips purse for a moment before he gives a simple nod, knuckles continuing to smooth over your skin, a feeble attempt to wipe away tears that have long since dried. “Hey, doll.”

You stare at him for a moment longer, blinking slowly, as if you’re sure the next time you open your eyes, he’ll be gone. But he isn’t.

“Seems like you’ve had a rough day.” he comments quietly, and your eyes widen almost imperceptibly for a moment before they’re closing tightly and you’re leaning into his touch, fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him there.

Your lip press into a tight line, and all you do is nod once, tilting your head to press your lips against his pulse. He hopes you can’t feel it jump under your mouth, pulling away gently so he can stand once more, leaning over to press a gentle kiss into the crown of your head.

You glance up at him sadly, disappointment flooding your gaze as you wait for him to leave again, brows drawn low on confusion when he moves to take off his shoes instead.

His shirt goes next, hooking his thumbs into the collar and tugging it over his head before throwing it somewhere in the dark. He pauses then, second guessing himself as he runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in odd angles.

But the way you’re watching him has him softening, jerking his chin towards the center of the bed as his knee sinks into the mattress net to you. “Scoot, I’m not letting you shove me off again,” he grumbles, but there’s no malice in his words.

If anything, he’s glad you can’t see the way his face heats in the dark over how he lets affection bleed into timbre of his voice when he next speaks, sinking into the softness of your bed as he pulls you into his chest.

“Missed you.”

#Dabi #dabi mha #dabi fluff #dabi fic #dabi x reader #Dabi x you #touya #touya x reader #touya mha #touya fluff #touya fic #touya x you #T writes #cowboy anon writes #thecowboyanon writes #t.writes #mha fic

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 2 years ago

Text

There For You

Summary: When Dabi gets sick at your place, he lets a couple of his walls come down, but there’s a thin line of how close he’s willing to let you get to him.

Genre: angst, pining, established relationship

CW: cursing, mentions of the flu/sickness, suggestive

Word Count: 2,860

"You're still burning up, but it's less than yesterday," you sigh heavily, hand pressed to the man's forehead as he huffs and brushes away your arm.

"I run hot; it's nothing," Dabi dismisses, sweat making his dark hair stick to his skin, his shirt and pants long since discarded in an attempt to keep cool. "Besides, I'm fucking shivering. I'm not worried about overheating," he mumbles, and you shake your head at him, already planning on getting another blanket from the living room.

"Shivering is part of the fever, Dabi. You know that. You probably didn't do yourself any favors by taking that hot bath last night," you scold gently. He huffs again but doesn't argue further, pretty blue eyes fluttering shut.

You'd never admit it, but you were glad he was here like this. You'd known he wasn't himself when he'd shown up unannounced two days ago. He'd been fidgety and clearly exhausted as he curled up around you, but it wasn't until you woke up to the man draped over you, drenched in sweat and hotter than any human should be, that you realized how sick he was.

He'd protested when you'd woke him up in a panic, insisting he needed to let you get him medicine, insisted that he was fine. That is until his legs gave out at the doorway of your bedroom, and he'd dropped to his knees and admitted maybe he should stay.

Since then, it had been a cycle of medicines, showers, sleep, and food. If it had been up to Dabi, he'd have just slept the entire time, insisting he could handle his fever, even when he started to worry you.

The second night had been the hardest, when his body had started to reject anything he'd put in it, and you'd both spent the night hours sleeping in the bathroom- him in a nest of blankets on the floor and you in the bathtub. You'd been awake more than he had that night, ensuring he was still breathing and his temperature hadn't risen every few hours.

He'd started to refuse food, and it had taken everything in you not to sit on him and shove it down his throat, choosing to bargain with the sick man instead. Eventually, he'd accept saltines and nothing else, which had been enough for you.

You could remember clearly when the delirium had set in that night. Those tired blue eyes trained on you as he sat against the bathroom wall, sweat dripping down his face as he pressed a blanket further around himself.

"You're beautiful," he'd murmured sleepily, and you dragged your weary gaze to his. "I mean it. Can't believe you let me stay here. Let alone fuck your brains out regularly. Could be bagging pro-heroes with that face."

You'd just rolled your eyes and ignored his rambling for the next forty minutes until sleep thinned your patience, and you leaned over the edge of the tub to press a finger against his mouth, effectively shutting him up so the both of you could sleep.

"Hey. Don't look so worried." Dabi's voice drew you back to the present, where you stood with a bottle of ibuprofen, meaning to check when he could take another dose. "I'm not dying more than usual."

You glared at him at his words, and he shot you a knowing grin. "Glad you feel good enough to make those kinds of jokes," you muttered, setting the bottle back down on the table next to your bed. "Think you're up for a shower while I make you soup?" you pressed, and he paused for a moment before giving a slight nod, groaning as he sat up.

"You just love to get me naked," he taunted, shooting you a grin- although it showed just how tired he was, it still made your heart flutter. You paused in the doorway to turn and give him a sweet smile as you spoke.

"Dabi, baby, with all due respect, you stink," you informed him with a wrinkle of your nose, laughing softly when he flipped you off in response.

The past few days had been a blur of microwaved meals and crackers, and it suddenly dawned on you just how little you'd actually eaten. You hesitated as you looked through your fridge for something quick, your gaze landing on the chicken you'd meant to eat two nights ago. You sighed, pulling out the Tupperware container to throw it out as you pushed aside condiments to find other food that would soon spoil.

You straightened suddenly as you pushed aside onions, hot sauce, and soy sauce, reminded of a soup recipe from your childhood. Mentally you ran through the ingredients, checking them off as you found them in your fridge and cupboards, gathering them onto your counter.

Biting your lip, you glanced at the time, warring with yourself on whether you would be able to make it before Dabi inevitably reappeared. Your decision was made when you thought about all the money you'd be wasting if you didn't use some of your produce in your fridge soon.

You got to work quickly, chopping vegetables as you let water and broth boil on the stove, adding herbs and sauces. You lost track of time as you cooked, humming quietly to yourself, and jumped when a pair of warm hands landed on your hips.

"Sorry I took so long. What're you doing?" Dabi rasped quizzically, water dripping from his hair onto his shirt as he released you, puzzled when he watched you turn off the stove and grab a bowl.

"I made soup," you shrugged, watching from the corner of your eye when he peered into the pot, eyes widening.

"You made this?" he repeated, watching as you filled a bowl and handed it to him. He eyed the bowl suspiciously, and you stifled a laugh, giving him a spoon and gently pushing him to your small dining room table.

"It's not a big deal, Dabi. I had the ingredients and figured we both could use a break from canned soup and microwaved meals," you joked, grabbing yourself a bowl.

He said nothing, and you watched nervously as he stirred his spoon around the bowl for a moment before hesitantly taking a bite. His eyes widened as he groaned, mumbling under his breath.

"Holy fuck," he dug in quickly, and you smiled softly, shaking your head as you ate in the kitchen, cleaning your mess as you went. You gave him a gentle smile when he returned to the kitchen with an empty bowl, sheepishly gesturing to the pot.

You nodded, returning to cleaning as he poured himself a second helping, hiding your smile. It wasn't often you could surprise Dabi, even less often that he was so at ease, and you couldn't help the way it made you feel when it happened. He paused before he left, tugging you in by your hip so he could press a lingering kiss against your forehead before releasing you and returning to his spot.

Minutes passed as you finished wiping down the counter, and Dabi spoke up quietly, halfway through his second bowl. "You didn't need to put in so much work for me."

You laughed softly, wiping your hands on a towel before you turned to speak to him, walking around to his side of the table.

"I just figured it had been a while since someone made you a home-cooked meal," you murmured quietly, bending down to press your lips to his forehead. The action was intended to allow you to discreetly feel his temperature, but all you could feel was how he stiffened at your words.

A heavy silence suddenly settled between the two of you, and you pulled back quickly as he sat silently. You can tell you messed up, revealed too much, and struck a nerve all at once.

You move back to the sink, busying yourself with cleaning the dishes as you sneak a couple glances at him. He's staring down at the bowl, shoulders tight and his gaze unreadable, stormy as he thinks.

You want nothing more than to apologize for your careless words, to smooth away the angry wrinkle between his brows, but you don't. It wouldn't help. You'd learned early on that there were things you couldn't fix.

You're all too aware that loving Dabi sometimes means letting him hurt.

Not that you'd never tell him that's what you felt for him.

Love.

A stupid, four-letter word that had enough power to send him far from your arms if you slipped up and said it.

Because for Touya, love was the worst mistake of all. It meant he had to reveal the softest, most breakable parts of himself. It meant he had to care about something in his life that wasn't just revenge. And that simply wasn't something he was interested in, despite all the nights spent in your arms, in your bed.

You shake yourself, realizing you'd been scrubbing the same spoon for a ridiculously long time, and sigh, dropping your head for a moment. You look back at Dabi to see him watching you, his expression guarded as he takes another bite.

"I'm gonna head to bed," you murmured, ignoring the surprised look he shoots you.

You can't bring yourself to look at him, brushing past him instead to hurry down the hallway to your bedroom. Guilt and hurt gnawed at you as you changed into pajamas, and you hesitated before slipping his old T-shirt over your head. At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if he was gone before you woke up. At the very least, you'd get to keep a piece of him this time.

You ignore him when he comes into your room, eyeing you cautiously as you give him space. So you're surprised when he crowds you in the bathroom as you're drying your face, hands winding around your waist as he hooks a chin over your shoulder.

"You look good in my shirt," he rumbled, eyes avoiding yours when you looked at him in the mirror's reflection. His hands slip under your shirt to spread over your stomach, his pinky brushing along the underside of your breast, and you can't help the way you lean into it, sighing softly. He presses a kiss behind your ear, and then another one lower, and another, trailing a path down your neck.

"Dabi, baby, wait," you protest weakly, eyes squeezed shut as you try to focus with the way his lips latch onto the sweet spot on your throat, sucking a dark bruise onto it.

"Wanna thank you properly," he dismisses, spinning you around to face him. He doesn't give you a second to think before his hands grip the back of your thighs and lift you to wrap around his hips.

His lips are back on your skin as he walks, but you don't miss how he's breathing harder than usual or how his hands are shaking after he sets you down on the bed.

His movements are rushed as he settles between your legs, and it's only when he sits back to grip the waistband of your pajama shorts that you get a clear look at his face.

"Dabi, stop." you rush, hands grabbing his wrists as he freezes, pain-filled eyes rushing to meet yours. "I'm not fucking you. Not while you're clearly still sick," you soothe, expecting relief to flood the man's face.

"I don't understand," his tone is suddenly cold and detached as he sits back on his heels, hands curled into fists against his thighs.

You struggle to sit up at his words, your brows drawn down in confusion. "Don't understand what?" you press, reaching for his hand. He shifts out of your reach subtly, but his message is clear, sending a pang of hurt through you that you try to swallow down.

"In the kitchen, I thought you were upset because I didn't thank you right. I thought-" Dabi clamps his mouth shut suddenly as he turns his gaze away from you, jaw set.

You search his face for a moment, trying to connect the dots before it clicks. "Oh."

You don't mean for it to come out the way it does, and you can see his jaw tighten again as he begins to move away, and you shoot forward, hand curling around his wrist to stop him. If you let him go now, there's no telling when he'd return.

"Touya," You murmur softly. There's a reason you hardly use his birth name despite being given permission to, and you're reminded of that when he flinches at the sound falling from your lips.

"I didn't mean to sound so judgemental," your fingers slip up over his skin until you're cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at you as you speak. His gaze is clouded, eyes puffy from lack of sleep, and you can see weariness eating away at him now more than ever.

His expression doesn't shift, and it's as if he's looking right through you. You're firmer this time when you call his name, both hands cupping his face and forcing him to look at you.

"I'm not taking care of you because I expect you to crawl into my bed as thanks. I'm not taking care of you because I think you'll owe me after. I'm taking care of you because you eventually have to let someone do it, and I... I care," you admit quietly.

Because I love you and just want you to know that.

You don't say those words out loud, no matter how badly your heart is screaming at you. You ignore it as you brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead, his gaze softer now, relieved.

"I'm sorry," he begins to murmur, but you shush him, giving a slight shake of your head.

"No need to apologize. Just... don't forget that I'm here for you, okay? Not what you could do for me," You bite your lip, afraid that you're getting too close as you drop your gaze and hands from his face.

He hums in response, tilting your gaze back to his, and for the first time in a while, when you look at him, all you see is openness. No walls to break down, no hurt and fury vying for his attention. And for a split second, you wonder if he's as much in love as you are.

"Can I kiss you?" he rasps, and you nod, uncaring at this moment if he gets you sick. You just want to feel him. He leans in easily, his lips barely brushing over yours as he speaks, almost too low to hear him when he speaks. "Don't want to lose you,"

You want to pull away, want to ask him what he means, not even sure if you heard him correctly, but then he's slotting his mouth over yours in a kiss that steals all the air from your lungs.

Most of Dabi's kisses leave you breathless, but this one is different. There's more meaning behind it than the man in front of you can say, but it's as if he's trying his best to show you. A hand cups the back of your neck to guide you until your head hits the pillows again, his lips never leaving yours. His hands slide down your arms before entwining his fingers with yours and pulling them against his chest, right above where his heart is pounding.

He's gentle as he flattens your palm over the spot, nose bumping yours when he pulls away with a shaky breath, pressing feather-soft kisses over your cheeks and eyes before he sits up. He keeps your hand over his heart for a moment longer before lifting it to press one last lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

His blue eyes never waver from your face as he moves, and part of you wants to look away, to run from the intensity of his gaze, but you don't. He gives you one last soft kiss before he swings a leg off the bed, groaning as he stands.

"I'm going to go shower again; feel free to get some rest, doll," he invites, and you sit up as you watch him gather clothes to sleep in.

"No hot water, right? Just warm?" you remind him, and he laughs softly, coming around to your side of the bed again to press a kiss to the top of your head.

"Got it, doc. Get some sleep. I'll be back soon," he soothes. You watch him go, listening to the shower turn on a moment later.

You're already half-asleep when he returns, but you turn into his arms when he slides under the covers beside you, your head nestled under his chin.

He sighs deeply, and your breathing falls into sync with his as sleep begins to claim you, surrounded by his warmth and scent, partially masked by the smell of your shampoo.

You almost miss his words, whispered to what he assumed was just himself in the darkness.

"How the hell am I supposed to stop loving you?"

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 2 years ago

Text

Tacenda

Definition: Things better left unsaid

Summary: A continuation of this, this, and this idea. Bakugou knows you don’t share his feelings, so why does his heart pick up everytime he’s close to you? And why do you seem to gravitate to him just as much?

Genre: angst with no comfort

CW: pining, mentions of drinking, foul language, makeout, lip-gloss smearing, fondling, handjob, emotional makeout, both Bakugou and reader have been drinking

Word Count: 3,693

Bakugou's friends joke that he's always by your side, at your feet, or not too far behind. Always hanging on to your last word.

He'd never admit it, but they're right. He finds that being around you is addicting and finds himself doing things he never thought he would, just cause it'll make you smile. He can't help it.

Things like hosting parties in the apartment. It's not his scene; He doesn't like many people in his space messing up his stuff or drinking his booze. But whenever you suggest it? He can't figure out how to say no.

It doesn't help that you're especially affectionate when you're a little tipsy, and he's a little less guarded than he should be. He should be hiding his feelings, keeping them close to his chest, and yet, he finds his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see. And everyone does see. Except for you.

When you playfully jump onto his back when he won't hand over the remote on the couch, he just laughs and stands, hands gripping your thighs around his lean waist, so you won't slip off. You're both a little drunker than you meant to be, and he tips over slightly after he spins with you, causing you to shriek and laugh, face buried in his neck.

He blames the blush that covers his cheeks on the alcohol when Sero makes a joke about it, and you brush it off, demanding he takes you to the kitchen so you can talk with the group gathered around Kiri.

He's gentle when he sets you on the counter, and you expect him to leave again for the couch, but he doesn't. He leans back into you, his elbows resting comfortably on either side of your thighs, fingers rubbing soothing circles on your shins. After a while, you find yourself leaning into his warmth, arms winding around his neck again as you tilt forward to rest your head on his shoulder.

His eyes slip towards your face every few moments, and he's acutely aware that all he'd have to do for his lips to brush yours is to turn his head the tiniest bit. He finds himself wondering if the gloss on your mouth is the same as that one night after the last party, tuning out the conversation around him completely, even if you're fully immersed in it.

He catches Kiri's gaze for a moment, his friend reflecting worry over the close proximity, but all Bakugou does is give a slight shake of his head. He's more than willing to endure the painful ache in his chest if it means he can occasionally hold you like this, knowing it's the closest he's gonna get.

He can't help but get pulled in by you, by the way you laugh, your strength, your independence, the way you love even when you claim you don't want to.

He's never been so completely in love and so completely tortured.

It's all he can do to swallow thickly and try to force himself to rejoin the conversation, the smell of your perfume making his mind hazier than the alcohol. He finds himself longing to bury his face against your throat, let you drown out every thought in his head with your scent, and then, of course, he's thinking about how your skin would taste, damp and pressed against his tongue. He wonders what kind of noises you'd make: if you'd gasp or whine out his name.

He's so lost in thought, he doesn't realize his hands are dancing higher, palms resting comfortably on your thighs, just above your knees, until you tilt your head to talk. Your voice is low enough for only the two of you to hear, but you lean in a little more anyways, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you ask if he's getting uncomfortable from standing for so long.

You go to release him, and one hand shoots up to stop you, holding your wrist tightly and guiding it back around him. It's a bold move, one he'd never make when sober, one he'd never make if he didn't keep giving himself false hope.

You gently pull your arm out of his grasp, and his heart sinks as he feels your warmth leave his back for a moment, sure he's pushed too much. And then your elbow comes to rest gently on his shoulder, and your fingers sink into his hair, and it's all he can do to not let a groan slip past his lips right there, surrounded by his friends in his kitchen.

He sees Kiri give a shake of his head out of the corner of his eye and excuse himself, but he doesn't care. Not when you're so warm and soft, and so fucking close.

He's lulled into a calm by your fingers lazily brushing through his hair as you talk to the dwindling group, his eyes fluttering closed.

You adjust so he can lean back against you, his head tilted against your shoulder as he shifts his weight further against the counter. His thumbs resume the gentle circles over the denim wrapped around your legs, and he wishes you were wearing shorts instead of jeans so he could feel your skin and commit the feeling of you in his hands to memory.

You sigh softly, your chest rising beneath his head, and his eyes flutter open, heart stuttering to a stop when he finds you smiling softly down at him, the kitchen quiet except for the sound of the two of you breathing.

"Doing okay?" You ask gently, and all he can do is nod lazily and try not to stare up at you with too much adoration.

You laugh quietly, and lean down, and he swears he can feel his heart leap up into his throat, sure he's going to taste that gloss again, until your lips land on his forehead, feather soft.

He scolds himself for letting his heart run away with his thoughts, and closes his eyes once more. He doesn't expect your lips to land over his eyelids next, flinching at the sudden contact.

You mumble out an apology, but your breath is fanning over his cheeks next, your lips pressing firmly over them.

He's practically holding his breath, sure that if he moves or breathes too much, it'll break whatever spell you're under that's making you so affectionate.

"Katsuki."

Your voice is barely a whisper, shaky when it speaks, but something in your tone convinces him to open his eyes, your gaze hooded as you stare down at him.

Your brows are drawn low, and you're chewing on your bottom lip as your gaze sweeps over his face, too many emotions flicking over your face for him to pin down just one.

He waits, gives you time to sort things out, but then you've second-guessed yourself, and you're shaking your head, pulling back, and he can't stand it anymore. His palm circles the back of your head and guides you back down to him, and his heart soars at the way you yield so easily to him, eyes filling with warmth as they close.

He follows suit, and then a moment later is rewarded with the feeling of your mouth pressed against his. It's slow, gentle, and a little clumsy given the angle, but butterflies fill his stomach nonetheless.

Your lips fit against his perfectly, like you were made for kissing him, and he finds himself wanting to stay in the moment forever, lost in you.

You sigh happily against his mouth, fingers falling to his shoulders as you melt against him, and he pulls away for a moment.

Disappointment fills your face as he stands up, but it's gone a second later when he turns around to slot himself more comfortably between your legs, forehead bumping against yours as he breathes shakily. His hands cup your face, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks as he waits for you to pull away, giving you every opportunity to change your mind.

When you don't, he closes the distance again, firmer this time in the way he kisses you. He starts off slow, lets you adjust to him, allows himself to bask in the moment.

His hand slides back to tangle in your hair, using his grip to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss, and feels the fire in his stomach ignite when you groan against his mouth.

His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, recognizing the same cherry lip gloss. The realization leaves him hungry for more, and his grip on you tightens slightly when you open for him, letting his tongue slip past your lips and press against your own.

You're both panting heavily, each press of lips and stroke of tongues fueling the heat between the two of you. Your fingers fist the material of his shirt, and his hands fall to your hips to tug you closer, pull you flush against his body.

He knows that at any moment, any of your friends could walk into his kitchen and catch him with his tongue in your mouth, but he can't find it in himself to care. Not when you're whining so sweetly against his lips and wrapping your thighs around him.

He pulls away to breathe and laughs softly when you chase him, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. He tilts his head up slightly to give you both a chance to catch your breath, but you use the angle against him, lips landing against his throat. He groans then, instinctively pressing his hips forward between your thighs, and you gasp at the feeling of his bulge pressed so heavily against you.

He starts to mumble out an apology, but then your lips slide lower, teeth sinking into his skin. His hips jerk again, and you whine into his skin, releasing it after a moment to run your tongue over the mark.

You stretch as much as possible to press your mouth against his once more, hands slipping under his shirt, and he sucks in a sharp breath. He has to focus on a spot on the ceiling for a moment so he doesn’t cum in his pants like a teenager as your hands explore his torso beneath his shirt, nails dragging lightly over his skin as you suck a mark onto his collarbone.

He's aware he's most likely gripping your hip too tightly, his other hand fisted in your hair, but you don't seem to mind, humming out happily as your tongue darts out to run along his skin.

Your kisses are sticky on his skin from your gloss, and he suddenly wonders if there'll be any left by the time you're done with him, using his grip on your hair to tug your head back.

He seals his mouth over yours once more, hungrily swiping his tongue over your lip and then into your mouth, groaning when your tongue slides against his. He's so lost in your taste that he doesn't notice your hands sliding lower until your fingers loop into his sweats' waistband, and he's gasping into your mouth. His mind is whirling, and he's trying to figure out what he did that finally clicked for you, finally made you notice him, when your whine drags him back to you.

"Bedroom, please," You're panting against his mouth as you speak, your words nothing but a breathless plea as you pull away enough to look up at him, lashes fluttering. You look as ruined as he feels, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and for a moment, he thinks he sees fear flicker in your eyes, and it's enough to make him stop in his tracks.

His hands cup your face, thumbs gently smoothing over your skin as he looks at you, searching your gaze for a hint of doubt. "We don't have to do that," he assures, eyes flicking down to your lips again as his tongue darts out to wet his own. He scolds himself for getting distracted, refocusing on your comfort immediately. "If you don't want to, I don't want you to think that you have to do anything-"

You huff, and he stops short in surprise as you press forward, eyes fluttering shut as you brush your lips back over his, your fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist.

"Katsuki. I'm sure. Don't make me beg," you plead again, eyes opening to meet his. He takes another moment to search your gaze before he swallows thickly and nods, tugging you in for a soft kiss.

He's quick to help you off the counter, and his cheeks redden when your fingers intertwine with his as he pokes his head out of the kitchen, scanning the route to your bedroom. It takes a moment, but he can hear laughter from the living room and tugs you down the hall quickly, in no mood to answer any prying questions. Not when he finally has you.

The second your bedroom door is closed behind him, you're pressing him back against the wood, hands shoving his shirt upwards. He's quick to help you, tugging it over his head and tossing it into the darkness as he watches you press soft kisses against his bare skin.

When your mouth moves lower, over his abs, he has to stop you, afraid that the sight of you on your knees for him will ruin him before he can show you how much you mean to him.

You look up at him curiously as he stops you, tugging you back to his lips, and his mouth quirks up into a smile when you sigh softly against him. He's gentler now but just as passionate, teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you pull too far back from him.

His hands wander over your hips, beneath your shirt, and he wishes he could memorize how you gasp when his thumbs brush the underside of your breasts. He breaks away only to help you pull your shirt off, burying his face in your neck. He inhales deeply as his tongue traces over your pulse point, sure he's never smelled anything sweeter than your perfume.

Your fingers card through his hair as he slips his hands behind you to unclip your bra, letting it fall to the floor between the two of you, his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

When his hands slide around again to cup your tits in his palms, thumbs sliding over your nipples, you whine his name, and the sound makes his heart skip a beat. He can't help but want to hear it again, and he takes a chance, teeth sinking into your skin as he palms your tits, and your cry is louder, more desperate as you tug on his hair.

"Kats, please. Need you," you beg, voice wobbling as if he'd been teasing you for hours rather than a few moments, and he swells with pride that he has as much of an effect on you as you do on him.

"You've got me, sweet girl," he assures, leaning down to swipe his tongue fleetingly over one of your nipples as his hands slide along the back of your thighs.

Lifting you is no problem for him as he straightens, guiding your legs to lock around his waist, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he walks.

It's completely unnecessary, given the short distance from the door to your bed, but he does it anyway, covering your body with his as soon as your back hits the mattress.

You're arching up against him already, leg hooked over his hip as you push down on the waistband of his sweats to free his cock and wrap a hand around his length, and he hisses sharply, hips lurching forward to thrust into your hand.

He has to grit his teeth to keep from being too loud, your hand working over his length slowly as he rests his forehead against your collarbone. His hands fist the comforter next to your head, but the second he feels himself begin to near that edge, he stops you, pulling your hands away from him.

You pout beneath him, making a show of licking his pre off your palm and his gaze darkens, fingers making quick work of the button on your jeans and yanking them down in one swift movement.

You yelp at the suddenness but your eyes glint mischievously, drawing him back to your mouth as you murmur teasingly. "Getting impatient, huh, Dynamight?" you purr, and he groans loudly, the use of his hero name catching him off guard.

"God, you're gonna be the death of me," he pants, his forehead pressed firmly against yours as you lift your hips beneath him to slide off your underwear. "Drive me fucking crazy, yknow that?" he admits, and you laugh softly, capturing his mouth once again.

He's quick to pull back, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of you bare and needy beneath him, all for him. His gaze rakes over you silently, committing every hidden mole and freckle to memory until your hands are tugging on him, fingers intertwining with his.

"Kats?" You stare up at him nervously, chewing on your cheek as you call to him, and he's suddenly overcome with emotion, swallowing thickly as he offers you a reassuring smile.

"I've got you, beautiful," he promises quietly, peppering kisses over your cheeks. You hum in surprise but melt into his touch, fingers squeezing his tighter as he presses the length of his cock down against you, drawing a gasp from your mouth. You twist your head to capture his mouth again, slower but with more heat than before, as you free your hands to cup his face.

You pull away only a tiny bit after a while, brows drawn up in concentration as you breathe him in, nose brushing against his gently. For a moment, there's nothing in the world but you and him, and all the feelings he's hidden for the past year come bubbling to the surface.

"I love you."

The words tumble out of his mouth and into yours before he can stop them, and it's like everything stops except for the hammering of his heart. Beneath him, you stiffen and he hesitates, searching for your gaze in the dark.

Your eyes are wide as your hands slide down to his chest, holding him at bay, and he feels like his tongue is lead in his mouth. His mind whirls as he tries to think of something to say, anything to do damage control and make you stop looking at him like that.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" he begins, voice hoarse as he tries to think of an excuse and your face crumples for a moment before you're pushing firmer on his chest with one hand, the other moving to shield yourself from his eyes.

"Get out." Your voice is quiet, and he can make out the wobble in your lower lip, the shine in your eyes that indicates you're about to cry, and he protests, tugging his sweats back over his hips but unwilling to leave you like that.

“Fuck I’m sorry, wait-" he tries to reason with you, tries not to let hurt leak into his voice even as he feels his heart begin to splinter. He reaches out to brush hair away from your face, and you slap his hand away, teeth gritted when you next speak, your empty gaze turned towards the wall.

"I said get the fuck out, Bakugou." He can hear your voice break as you say his name, he sees your shoulders start to shake with silent cries as he stumbles off the bed, hesitating once more.

"Please, talk to me, what-" he tries again, his own eyes stinging with incoming tears he tries to hold back, unsure of what he did wrong, of how he hurt you.

"Just fucking go," you cry out angrily, your form shaking as you curl in on yourself, completely cutting him off from you. "I don't need you. I don’t want you. So just get out." you hiss, and he takes a step back as if slapped.

It’s like he's on autopilot, feet stumbling back and out your room, realizing a second after your door shuts that his shirt is still somewhere in there. All he can do is stand there, staring blankly at your door as your cries reach his ears, his hands fisted at his side.

‘I don't want you.’

Your words echo in his head as he grits his teeth and turns away from your door sharply. He angrily wipes away the tears that begin to roll down his cheeks, stopping short when he finds Kiri standing in his path, eyes wide with surprise.

He doesn't give the redhead a chance to speak, just shoulders past him to his room, slamming the door shut. He runs his hands raggedly through his hair, and it's suddenly like the room is too small for him, like he's being suffocated.

He rushes to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and down his neck as he tries to remember how to breathe normally. He catches his reflection in his mirror and freezes, dark marks from your mouth littering his skin.

He doesn't even think about it, his fist just flies, and the mirror shatters under the impact, fracturing throughout the frame. Blood beads up around the shards that cut into his knuckles as he hangs his head, tears streaming down his face freely as he crumples. It feels like he's forgotten how to breathe as he slides down to the floor, lungs heaving with the force of his silent sobs. Blood streams down his arm and onto the tile floor, but at the moment, it's nothing compared to the painful feeling in his chest.

How had he been so fucking stupid? How could he have let himself believe that you felt the same way? How could he have told you he fucking loved you?

And why couldn't you love him back?

#roommate!bakugou #roommate au #bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou fic #bakugou angst #katsuki angst #t writes #t.writes #thecowboyanon writes #cowboy anon writes

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 2 years ago

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Bakugou Katsuki Masterlist- WIP

Drabbles:

-> Showers after a long day (fluff, smut)

-> Losing a bet and wearing Daisy Dukes (smut)

-> Bakugo puts you through college (smut)

-> First date (fluff)

-> Breaking up in a small town (angst)

-> Your jeans rip while helping Bakugo (suggestive)

-> Pro-Hero Bakugou picks you up from the club (suggestive)

-> Ex! Bakugou drabbles- 1, 2 (angst)

-> The first time you sleep with Outlaw!Bakugou (fluff, suggestive)

-> Insecure Bakugou (angst, fluff)

-> Pro-Hero Bakugou reunites after a mission (smut)

-> Poly w/ Outlaw!Kiri 1

-> You bring down Pro-Hero Dynamight (angst)

One-shots:

-> Unspoken Rules (smut)

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou masterlist #t.writes #t writes #thecowboyanon writes #cowboy anon writes

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 2 years ago

Text

Unfinished Business- Chapter 1

Summary: You never imagined Bakugou would fall in love with you, and you certainly never imagined you’d break up with him. But he did. And you do. And now there’s too many pieces for one person to pick up.

Genre: angst, possible smut in further chapters

Word Count: 2,430

Chapter warnings: cussing, reader has a quirk (can produce a neurotoxin that can temporarily paralyze enemies or temporarily take away pain; cannot produce both types at the same time; does not work on self)

A/N- song I listened to while writing: At Least by Jessica Baio; this chapter is formatted a bit differently, as it’s mostly a precursor to the main story, and I kinda got carried away creating a basis for the relationship with Bakugou. Oops? Reblogs/comments greatly appreciated! <3

When you first met Pro-Hero Dynamight, it had been pure chance. He'd been on his way to starting his own agency but still putting in hours as one of his old mentor's best heroes.

You weren't sure what made Jeanist think you'd be a promising duo, but he was insistent on pairing the two of you up on patrol, despite the large gap in experience.

And it wasn't that you weren't a good hero, with a quirk suited for both attack and rescue; you were lucky you'd gotten so much time in the field. But despite all this, Bakugou still felt miles ahead of you in experience, something he was sure to remind you of when you went on your first patrol together.

It wasn't a secret that the blonde was prickly and had a temper, and as much as he respected his mentor, he clearly wasn't happy about being partnered up. He'd insisted for the first hour that he worked better alone because 'he didn't have to worry about anyone keeping up with him.

The irony that he was trailing behind you the whole time wasn't lost on you as you pretended to listen, scanning the dark streets for any disturbances while he grumbled, strutting like he owned the entire city.

He was insufferable, tugging on a strand of your hair every time he felt like maybe you weren't paying attention to his bragging. He was so caught up in pestering you that you almost missed the black-clad figure crawling out of an upper apartment window with a backpack slung over their shoulder.

You'd taken off first, Bakugou cursing behind you, and after a brief chase, you couldn't help but laugh, panting with the robber incapacitated beneath your knee.

"I thought no one could keep up with you, Dynamight," you'd teased when he stopped next to you, puffing. He'd froze, and for a moment, you were sure he was gonna blow you up right then and there, and then he'd laughed.

Full-on laughed like the sound had started in his toes and worked its way up, and you'd been so startled that he only laughed harder.

Everything after that just fell into place. Bakugou requested to be paired with you more often, no matter which shifts you had to take, insisting on carpooling when you had graveyard shifts, coffee waiting for you in the center cupholder of his car. He'd only ever heard you order it once, yet he got it made perfectly every time.

Over the months, you spent as much time together outside of work as inside, and movie nights at your apartment more often turned into you and the large pro falling asleep on your couch, far closer than you'd been when you first fell asleep. You quickly got acquainted with the smell of his cologne, the way the corners of his mouth twitched when he was trying not to laugh, and the way he used insults to convey affection.

You would be lying if you said you didn't fall hard for him, cherishing those quiet patrols where the two of you would be able to look over the dark city from a rooftop, talking about nothing and everything.

And then suddenly, his agency started to take off, and he was gone more than he was around. You were back to solo patrols, and he spent most of his time with Jeanist, trying to learn how to manage an entire company.

And yet, without fail, there was always a coffee on your desk at some point during your shift, the only indicator you'd get that he was around at all. Well, besides the occasional glimpse of orange and green as he headed out on more important missions.

He always seemed to know when you had your own big missions coming up, suddenly appearing in the gear room to help you get suited up without a word, cracking jokes to ease your nerves.

The only time the blonde ever helped you quietly was before your first covert mission with him, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he helped you zip up your suit. He clearly had a lot on his mind, mouth set into a firm line as he adjusted your equipment absently.

In truth, you knew why. Bakugou'd voiced the opinion that this mission hadn't been scouted enough, that they'd be sending in heroes blind, but the commission had disagreed, and he'd been outvoted.

You tried to joke with the blonde once before you parted ways, teasing him about keeping up with you, an attempt at some sort of reassurance for both of you, earning you nothing but a strained smile before he busied himself with checking over his own suit.

You'd turned to leave when his hand had shot out, catching your wrist in his hand, the material of his glove catching on your skin.

"Come back safe, 'kay?" He'd murmured quietly, cracking a small smile when he took in your stunned stance. "We've got unfinished business," he joked weakly, and as he released you, you couldn't help but wonder if he had meant more than just your competition to see who was faster.

As it turns out, he'd been right about the mission, with more heroes coming back hurt than there should have been, comms lost for more than half the conflict. He'd crushed you into his chest when he'd found you back at the agency, unhurt besides a few scratches and bruises littering your skin.

He'd insisted on spending the night at your place after you'd been cleared medically, just in case they'd missed something, and for the first time, he'd crawled into your bed. Of course, a few hundred pillows propped between the two of you.

After that, you saw him more. He made a point to see you when he delivered your coffee, fingertips brushing over yours when he handed you the cup.

During a meeting discussing the plan for you to take over Dynamight's duties when he left, Bakugou silently handed one off to you in front of Jeanist. The older pro had stopped mid-sentence to watch the exchange, raising a brow and asking the younger blonde if everyone got that same special treatment in his agency, earning a glare from Bakugou as his face turned bright red, and you ducked your head to hide your own embarrassment.

Jeanist wasn't the only one to notice the closeness between the two of you, other coworkers gushing to you about how cute you'd look together as you shushed them, denying the way your heart raced at the thought.

But you couldn't lie that you'd noticed a change in your interactions with the blonde, waving them away as him just being friendly, even as you now spent your movie nights in his arms, his breath warm on the back of your neck.

He wasn't able to come help you suit up anymore, running a new agency clearly taking a toll on him, but for specific missions, he'd still show, right before you left, to give your hand a squeeze and say: "Come back safe, we've got unfinished business" with a wink or a smile. It became the new ritual, and you'd be lying if you claimed that he didn't awaken a swarm of butterflies in your stomach every time he grabbed your hand.

And just when you'd resigned yourself to the current closeness, sure this is all you'd ever get from him, you'd been sent off on a dangerous mission without him.

You hadn't meant to overhear it when he had been arguing with Jeanist in the old pro's office, you hadn't even known he was around, but you couldn't help but listen.

"Let me go with her. I'll be more of an asset there than I will here," Bakugou insisted, his voice muffled by the thick wooden door between you. You could hear the frustration in his voice and the heavy sigh that Jeanist let out before responding.

"You have a new agency to run; you can't go away for a week, Dynamight. Think like the number 3 pro, please," Jeanist pleaded.

"I am! She's not ready for this," Bakugou snapped back, and hurt rolled through you at his statement. You'd worked just as hard as he had to get here, and you'd thought if anyone had known that, it would be him. You turned to leave when Jeanist's response caught your attention.

"She's not ready for this, or you're not? Don't let your personal feelings cloud your judgment."

There was a long pause before Bakugou spoke again, quiet enough that you had to strain to hear him, nearly pressed up against the door, heart in your throat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, and you jumped at the sound of Jeanist's soft chuckle.

"Bakugou, I have eyes. And so does every other employee here. You don't have to-"

"I'm not talking about this," Bakugou cut off his mentor quickly, his voice much closer than it had been a moment ago as he stomped across the office. You scrambled away from the door right as it swung open, dragging your horrified gaze to meet Bakugou's, and for a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other like deer in headlights.

You opened your mouth, stammering out an excuse about needing to talk to Jeanist, but Bakugou pushed past you silently before you could finish, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

You didn't see him for the next two weeks, and every text you sent him was replied to with as few words as possible. You forced yourself to busy yourself with prepping for your mission, but your thoughts wandered to the blonde often, wondering if he missed you like you were missing him.

You didn't expect him to show up in the gear room, assuming everything was over between the two of you, the embarrassment that people thought he liked you too much for the man to handle.

You had your back turned, suit half-zipped in the back, when familiar hands brushed over your skin, making you jump.

"Let me help," he'd murmured, and you froze, all the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface as you rounded on the taller hero, ready to demand an explanation.

When your gaze met his, you stopped short, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, and softened. You opened your mouth to ask him what was going on with him when he shook his head, stopping you before you could start.

"I know I've been a dick. I'm sorry. I just- I needed to think- no, I needed to figure out how-" he stopped short, muttering under his breath as he tilted his head back to glare at the ceiling.

You glanced at the time quietly, fully aware that if you didn't leave now, you'd be late for the first mission you were in charge of. You stepped forward, pressing a hand against the hard plane of his chest to get his attention, and shook your head as you spoke, eyes cast down. "Katsuki, listen, I need to go, so whatever it is you need to say, you'll have to-"

His eyes widened in panic as you spoke, and his hand flew to trap yours against his chest. You glanced up sharply as his other hand found your face, tilting your jaw as he folded himself in half to clumsily slot his mouth over yours.

You'd imagined so many times what his lips felt like, but as you stood there in shock, all that you could think of was how soft they were, his hand sliding back to cup the back of your neck so he could kiss you deeper, smoother, a content hum rumbling through his chest. Beneath your hand, you could feel his heart hammering, rivaling the pounding of your own as your fingers curled into his shirt.

He kissed you slowly like he was trying to drink you in, his hand leaving yours on his chest to land on your hip and pull you flush against him. You let out a quiet whine against his mouth, and the sound seemed to snap him out of it as he pulled away just enough to press his forehead against yours, panting quietly. His cheeks were tinged when he spoke, his thumb sliding over your bottom lip as he watched.

"Come back to me," he breathed, amending the statement you'd gotten so used to hearing fall from those lips before continuing. "We've got unfinished business," he chuckled softly, and for a moment, you were sure he would kiss you again as you stretched forward, eyes fluttering shut.

"You're gonna be late," he warned quietly, pulling gently out of your reach as his hands fell from your body, and then he was gone.

If someone had asked you now to give a full recount of that mission, you'd fail. But you could remember your reunion with Katsuki down to every last detail.

You hadn't even given him a chance to talk when he'd walked into your apartment, shutting him up with your mouth pressed against his, your hands tangled in his hair to tug him down to you.

He'd grunted in surprise but happily obliged, warm hands spreading over your hips to tug you closer as you walked him backward, only breaking apart when the back of his legs hit the edge of your couch, and he toppled back, taking you with him.

He was careful to break your fall, and you were careful not to hurt him as you fell, and he chuckled, his face pressed against your cheek as he held you close.

"Missed you," he breathed, relaxing his hold enough to let you look up at him, a broad smile spreading across his face. You reached up to cup his cheek, heart fluttering when he closed his eyes and leaned into it, his lips brushing over your palm.

"This feels right," he admitted, pretty ruby eyes fluttering open as he leaned forward to press a softer, less desperate kiss against your mouth as you melted into him, humming in agreement.

After nearly a year of being so close to the pro but holding yourself back, this felt like coming home, like he'd filled a hole you were denying existed. You felt complete in his arms, surrounded by his cologne and his lips brushing against yours.

At that moment, you were sure you'd found in Katsuki Bakugou a love that would last forever. But in the end, forever was just a little too far away.

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 2 years ago

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Bakugou flicks your forehead when he’s helping you study and you get a question wrong, but when you get it right?

That man is all over you to give you kisses, riling you up just before the point of no return, only to pull away and insist you continue until you’ve gotten every question right.

He calls it motivation, you call it torture.

#bakugou fluff #i'm studying parasitology and it's kicking my ass #don't even get me started on my mammalogy exam i've got coming up #ugh #the life of a college student #yes he's still aged up #there's other forms of education besides high school y'all don't come for me #t.writes #thecowboyanon writes #cowboy anon writes #katsuki bakugo #bakugou blurb

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 2 years ago

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Touya ‘Dabi’ Todoroki Masterlist- WIP

Drabbles:

-> Ex-husband Bull!Rider (angst)

-> Inspiration for ‘Mine’ (angst)

-> Blowing off steam by eating you out (smut)

-> Dabi hates that his dad sponsors his team

-> Outlaw!Dabi is robbed by the reader

-> Friends with benefits with pining BullRider!Dabi (smut)

-> Getting crossed on a rooftop with Dabi (angst, suggestive)

-> You fill a hole in BullRider!Dabi’s life (fluff)

One shots:

-> Mine (angst)

-> There For You (angst

-> Cold (angst)

#touya todoroki masterlist #dabi masterlist #t writes #thecowboyanon writes #cowboy anon writes #t.writes

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