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#boku no hero au
stormcallart · 2 years
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Sweethearts!AU, Inko and Toshi have Izuku earlier than canon and I'd think they'd absolutely be in love with the idea of having thousands of memories of Izuku growing up. They both love him so much ;w;
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yan-li · 2 years
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So,I wanted to do a izuku.
I'm just coming back? I hope things go better, I definitely don't like my bosses but I like my job e_e
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queenendless · 8 days
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COMFY BIRDY
A/n: OVER A MONTH WITH NO FICS ON HERE! MY BAD!
Neurotic, ADHD, depression, finishing other shows, writing other stuff on my other platforms, writers block, etc.
Imma still working on new stuff at snail's place though so there's still hope!
Now period stuff helps even when it's hell.
AU Keigo Takami/Hawks x Fem Adult Reader, already established relationship, period stuff kinda, implied mature stuff.
*PLEASE DON'T REPOST PLAGARIZE STEAL COPY MODIFY AND/OR TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. RATHER REBLOG LIKE COMMENT AND FOLLOW PLS N THNX U.
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A rare day for you to be out.
You wanted some fresh air.
That and you were out on a mission.
Drooping into the nearby merch store, your emotionally hormonal self searched for something in particular.
You needed something soft to squeeze on.
In the grand shop, multiple rows of displays featured merch from all walks of media surrounded you.
You spotted your target area in the far back.
Tsums, round pillows, and varying sized plushies.
From the students to even the villains.
Yet as you skimmed through the pro hero plushies, your eyes stopped on the one you wanted.
The one you wished was here in the flesh.
Because right now, you missed your precious birdie.
You were surprised you were unbothered as you sat down on the plush bench seating, lost in murky aching thoughts.
You felt warmth and the mixed scent of the wind and AXE body spray enveloping you from above.
“Eyo. I got your texts.”
Incognito with a hoodie, worn torn jeans and sneakers on, only those familiar folded red wings was the telltale sign aside from that voice.
“Needed my Kei. Plushie form was the backup plan.”
“You're on your period now, right? You shouldn't be pushing yourself too much. You should be relaxing back home and let me pick this up for you on my way back from work.”
The moment you started sniffling and whimpering he stiffened in worry and immediately embraced you. “Hey, what's wrong?”
“I'm a neurotic, emotionally depressed mess, Kei, that's what's wrong!” You weeped in his scarred neck.
He gently rubbed your trembling back and massaged your pulsing scalp, shushing you. “Angel, you're perfect, messy or otherwise.”
“No, I'm not!” You mewled.
“You are to me.”
He jumped as your legs kicked up to rest over his thighs, his chibi pressed between your bellies, as you mewled. “I missed you so much!”
He teared up at that, nuzzling his face into the side of your face showing. “I missed ya too. So, ya want me to buy ya little ol me then?”
You nodded, sniffling, “Yes.”
He pecked your red wet cheek. “How's about some warm chicken soup for dinner?”
You whined. “Ice cream too.”
“M'kay. Anything else?”
“Cuddles, kisses, and binge anime together for the rest of the day.” Your pouting self looked up to him.
“For you, kid, your word is my command~”
The transition from there to your safe haven gets fuzzy because you're as drained as you are affectionately snuggling into your partner's chest as he easily carried you and his plush the rest of the way.
In your shared humble abode, watching him strip out of his clothes was always such a tantalizing turn on for you, leaving him in just his slim boxers. Spotting his scars from his cheek to his neck to even his very back. Everything about him was too mesmerizing not to look away, especially in your current bodily state.
“The scars … the shorter cut hair … even your new twin red steel swords … is it weird I find you hotter now?” You cooed.
Red tinted from his cheeks to his ears as Kei bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “Can you say the same for my back scars?”
He trembled as his skin grew warmer at how gentle your fingers brushed the entire bank of his flexing muscles as well as your kisses turning feverish at how much endearing attention you gave the marked planes.
“You're perfect, scars or otherwise.” You smirked against his flexing strong back.
His wings fluttered out as he swerved around, hugging you before pulling in something with one hand, chortling a bit, hanging his chibi twin right in your face. “You do have good taste, after all.” Amiss empty bowls of soup and ice cream tubs, he laid you against him, the plushie nestled in between you two like your own baby birdie.
“Kei?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we have our own bird babies?”
He was quite taken back by your words. But, that initial surprise was taken over by smitten devotion. “Sure, when you get better. For now, though,” His wing draped over you to bring more warmth to you and your belly he caressed. “Let's get you through this first.”
“Mother nature, you cruel temptress.” You grumbled.
Keigo Takami kisses you passionately to quell your hormonal desires for as long as this monthly ritual lasts. “A world where a hero like me has too much time on my hands is one where I can start a family with you, the most breathtaking being I've ever known, so I'm willing to wait a little longer.”
“Hmm …” His lovestruck eyes and charming smile made you kiss all over his now warm filled laughing face. “Same.”
Plush Hawks stayed smiling resting between your wombs as you and Keigo Takami, your mate, stayed bundled together, the TV left running on and the couch being your makeshift bed for the night.
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talimlbcnart · 1 year
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Patreon | Instagram | Youtube
"It don' bite" Deku, probably.
I forgot to post this here 😅
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confusedblakex · 1 year
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BNHA Soulmate AU: Choose your own ending
Endings: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima
Summary: Tommorow is your 16th birthday - the day you get the mark of your soulmate
Wordcount: 465
Warnings: None
Requested by: No one
Inspired by: This post by @dashielldeveron and this post by @haitani-trash
Notes: Reader's quirk hasn't been decided yet, please drop suggestions in the comments and I'll pick the one I think works the best
Last edited: 06th April 2023
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A person’s 16th birthday was always a big thing. In a world where superpowers are the norm and soulmates are a scientifically proven fact, the two most important times in a person’s life is when they receive their quirk and when they receive their soulmate.
Soulmates can be found through anything from sharing their pain to having their name explicitly written on your wrist. Though only about 50% of the world ever find their soulmate, and all pairings are different.
It had always been something you’d secretly dreamed of, zoning out in bed at night or a class you hated just to wonder what it would be like. Though it was a silly daydream to you, you also knew that just about everyone had also thought of similar things at least once in their life.
You looked around your classroom and at the people in it. You were one of the youngest of the class, so almost everyone had already gotten their soulmark and a few had even found their soulmate. You looked to Toru Hagakure and Mashirao Ojiro, the first of the class to find that they were soulmates.
You looked around to the other people in the class as you zoned out. Many of them had unnoticeable soulmarks or even ones they covered up. There was Katsuki Bakugo - one of the oldest of the class - with a handprint across his face that he was definitely insecure about. It fit his personality, though; after all, who wouldn’t want to slap him across the face?
Then the exact opposite was Shoto Todoroki, one of the younger of the class and so only got his recently, but whatever it was he kept it well hidden. He wasn’t the talkative type though, so even if you asked, you weren’t likely to get anything out of him.
Izuku Midoriya was pretty much his only friend, and Midoriya himself didn’t seem to know what his soulmark was, but after a long ramble had come to the conclusion that his soulmate wasn’t 16 yet. It wasn’t uncommon, some soulmarks didn’t show until both soulmates had turned 16, but there was definitely part of himself that thought he didn’t have a soulmate.
You looked back to Bakugo who was with Eijiro Kirishima, the boy who had mentioned on multiple occasions how he could only see the colour red. He supposedly would be able to see all colour once he locks eyes with his soulmate, a cute but simple one.
You wondered what yours would be, or if you’d ever find your soulmate. As one of the youngest of the class, it would be your 16th birthday tomorrow though, so you’d soon find out.
- - -
Lying in bed that night, your mind raced. 
Who do you choose?
Izuku Midoriya
Katsuki Bakugo
Shoto Todoroki
Eijiro Kirishima
(More routes may be added later)
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mae-gi-writes · 2 years
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TIRESOME || K. BAKUGOU
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You tell Bakugou you've had enough. He shows you that there's still hope left.
Genre: angst, a lot of fluff and suggestive
♡ ♡ ♡
Loving Bakugou is tiring.
You should know, considering that you have tried everything in your power to understand who he is, what he is exactly.
Your confession had been quiet and unspoken, one evening spent together that had dragged out to the earl hours of the morning. You'd whispered it out, fearing his reaction deapite having been friends with him ever since you first met at the pro-hero agency.
But Bakugou had merely dispelled your fears by leaning down and, ruby red eyes sliding over to hold your own, pressing a small peck to your lips.
That had been enough to cause a rack of butterflies to explode through your chest. A blushing mess, you'd only nodded when he asked to pick you up before work the next morning.
But Bakugou is a hard person to love.
Not because he's hard per se. But he's oblivious, and distant, and alqays has something else better to do than spend time with you.
He'll never abandon his practice. It's vital to him, the most essential part of his life, his will to live if you must. And when he's not training, he is out flying over buildings to stop the ones destroying them, letting his reputation preced him as he takea down whatever vilain stands in his way, the great Dynamight.
And when he's not out saving the world, well, he's training again. And so the cycle goes on.
You wish he made time for you, carved a slither of it out from his busy schedule, his busy life.
"Hey, can we meet?" You can hear him moving through the space on the other end of the line, certain that he won't be stopping even if this is an important conversation.
To you at least.
"I got five meetings today. Then I have my shift."
There's no apology hanging at the tip of his voice.
"Oh." You pick at your nails, blinking back the tears gathering in your eyes, "then can we meet tomorrow?"
"Can't. I have morning shift. Then a meeting." And then, as if he has the ability to feel sorry, he adds, "sorry."
He's not sorry. You know he isn't.
Bakugou doesn't want to stir trouble, nor does he want to hurt you on purpose. No. You know it isn't his selfishness talking. Rather, it's the complete opposite. His duty comes first.
There are times where you've tried; where you bring him bento boxes (homemade and still warm from being snug in your backpack) only to bring it back unopened, where you stop by his house just to catch a glimpse of his figure rushing out of the door and exchanging nothing more than a greeting and maybe a small ruffle of your hair, where you leave messages on his phone before you go to sleep every night with a small, timid "I love you" despite him never answering.
And it hurts. It hurts you. You're not even sure if he loves you, or whether he regrets his decision after realizing that maybe he doesn't want you in the same way you want him.
You snap.
"I can't do this anymore."
Those are the words that blurt out of your mouth the moment Bakugou starts walking away from you after his millionth excuse of having patrol duty. Fuck patrol duty.
Balugou freezes in his tracks, body tensing.
He turns, slow and deliberate, red orbs slashing into your face with initial anger barely simmering, but with confusion too.
He's silent for once. That prompts you to go on.
"You--You make it so hard to love you, Bakugou," you choke up on your words, unable to keep the emotion at bay as all your pent-up frustration spills out of you, "I'm trying. I try to make plans, I come by to bring you lunch because that's literally the only chance of me seeing you, I--I try calling you even when I know you probably won't answer because you're busy. But --that's not a relationship. I keep trying to reach out to you--"
Tears are spilling down your cheeks at this point, but you push through nevertheless, knowing that this might be the last time you'll get to talk to him like this.
"But you don't-- you don't make an effort and I'm sick, and tired of this endless vicious cycle and--I love you but--" you're shaking your head now, harder, trying to wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, "-- but I can't go on. Not like this."
Silence engulfs the air, only broken by your sniffles as you keep your gaze latched on the ground. You won't-- can't look up into your boyfriend's eyes for fear of what you might find in them. Disgust, repulsion, pity--
That is, before a warm, calloused hand grasps your chin. Tilts your head up.
Your eyes flutter up to his face. You almost cringe at his scowl except--
Hurt. There's hurt in his eyes. Something you've never seen before.
"I'll come to yours tonight," he holds your gaze, ruby red clashing with soft maroon with that dark scowl he has whenever something displeases him, "we can talk then."
You don't say anything. You're not sure if there's anything left to say.
And as though sensing your reluctance, he adds a soft, "please."
So you agree.
Only this time, you'll hear him out. Whatever he wants to say, because you know that Bakugou needs time to get his head straight, to re-arrange his thoughts so that they make sense and that time that people might be calling a waste, is time that you can spare, if only that allowa you to peek into the complex mind that is Bakugou.
You're curled up on your couch that evening, trying to distract yourself with one of the books you've been putting off reading even though you can't even seem to register one single word running along the page.
The clock ticking along the far wall reminds you that it's past nine and almost time for bed, but you force your eyes open, fingers curling into the material of your sweater as you mutter to yourself that he'll be here. He'll be here because he promised.
And then, finally, a knock at the door.
You don't realize you're shaking as you go to open it, until your fingers almost miss the lock twice. Taking a deep breath in and exhaling softly, you manage to twist the lock and push the door open.
Seeing Bakugou in the flesh, after that whole speech, makes something in your heart twist in pain.
You swallow hard. Look away.
"Hi," your voice sounds weird, alienated, "thanks for--"
Your words turn into a surprised yelp as Bakugou closes the distance between you two, cups your face between two rough palms, and before you can do anything else, locks his lips to yours.
Fireworks explode behind your eyelids.
You let out a surprised gasp, soon covered by Bakugou's mouth pressing onto yours, sliding until they find a rhythm. He kisses you fervently, hands holding your face close, nibbling along your lower lip and causing a string of butterflies to explode through your chest.
Your hands unknowingly latch onto the front of his shirt, tugging him closer still as you start kissing back, following his lead, falling into a pattern of clashing mouth and tongue and teeth clicking. And when his tongue finally slides between your lips, you can't help the desperate moan echoing through the back of your throat.
Bakugou grunts, as if satisfied, and you don't notice that he's backing you into your flat, closed the door with his foot, until your spine presses against the cold wall and causes you to gasp once more.
Big, warm hands slide down your sides to grip your hips more firmly, practically molding you to his chest. His tongue darts out, suckles on yours in a way that leaves you breathless, while your own arms wind around his neck, slither through his blonde locks to tug him even closer.
The growl that rumbles through Bakugou's chest is enough to make you tremble down to your toes.
He kisses like a man starved, deprived of food for days. Like a man who has just discovered what water means and though your head is swirling with no other thoughts but Bakugou, you still think there are things to resolve.
So you pull back, lips disentangling with a soft 'pop' for you to murmur, "Bakugou, we need to--"
"Shut up," he rasps against your jaw, mouth latching onto a soft patch of skin there. His breaths are warm, they make you tingle, " 'm tryin' to show you how much I love you, idiot."
The desperation. The fear that trembles his alto, it makes your breath catch. He pulls away ever so slightly to gaze down at you, noses brushing intimately, and you swear you've never seen such vulnerability in his eyes.
Not like this.
Bakugou nudges his nose with yours, before gently cupping your lips with his into another kiss. So tender this time, gentle, like you're made out of glass. And as a small whimper escapes you, you kiss back, emotion washing through you like a tidal wave.
You don't know how much time goes by as you continue kissing and kissing and kissing. It's like a dam has finally opened up, bridging the gap that had wedged between your relationship these past few weeks.
It's only when your lips finally disentangle that your eyes blink back to focus, or sort of, considering Bakugou's mouth is trailing over your jaw, nibbling his way down to your neck until you squeak out in surprise.
He chuckles against your skin, causing you to scowl at him, "what's--" you hate how breathy you sound, "--so funny?"
"You," he mumbles in-between kisses to your collarbone, hair tickling your face as he does so.
He sounds, feels, drugged and light-headed and giddiness springs through your chest at the thought that maybe Bakugou is feeling this way because of you. You and no one else.
Absentmindedly carding your fingers through his locks, a small smile dances across your face as he grumbles and nuzzles his face deeper into the crook of your neck, a giant cat who's found its favourite resting place.
"Don't leave."
The words, almost a murmured whisper, rings out in the silence.
Pulling back slightly as you cup Bakugou's cheeks, the blonde doesn't hesitate to avert his eyes and for the first time since you've started dating, you catch a glimpse of the childish vulnerability etched across his face. It makes your chest ache with a longing to wrap him up in your arms.
"What are you talking about?" Your murmur is soft, yet feels loud in the silence that envelopes the room.
Bakugou's eyes slide away, ruby-red orbs dropping to the ground while his hands land onto your hips in a firm yet gentle squeeze.
And when he speaks next, his voice is hoarse, laden with thick emotion.
"About us. This." A small sigh escapes him, "I've been a dick. I see that now. I--I'm gonna try and do better. Be better. So don't--" his voice quakes as it drops into a mumble, "don't leave."
And then, adding on with a tinge of desperation, "please."
His words buzz through the air as you allow them to settle, ringing through your ears and through the flat as warmth slowly starts easing its way into your heart for the said blonde that, despite never having been one for patience, is practically solid rock as he waits for your response.
"I'm not going to leave," you finally murmur out and then, you tug him close, closer until his nose meets the juncture between your neck and shoulder, "I'm not leaving."
A second passes. Then two.
And then, it's as if Bakugou's body finally melts.
He leans into you, a visible exhale leaving his body as he presses even closer and winds his arms around your waist. He nuzzles into your skin with a gentle rumble before softly pressing a kiss there.
It makes you shiver, though you pull him even closer if possible as you hold him like you're never letting go. And you know. You know how hard it is for someone like Bakugou to be so open, so vulnerable with his feelings, his wants.
" 'm sorry."
You can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth, which only blossoms out into a grin as Bakugou pulls away with flaming red ears and throwing you a look ressembling like an angry pomeranian.
Giggling, your hands weave around his neck, pull him close for a chaste kiss on the lips.
"What you laughin' at?" He mutters in a half-hearted attempt of a snap, eyes narrowed and lips turned to a scowl, "crazy woman."
"Nothing," you peck him once more on the cheek. Then, in a softer tone, you murmur, "I forgive you."
It takes a few seconds for it to sink into the blonde's head that you're not going to throw your relationship with him away so soon. But it's in the way he tightens his hold onto your middle and buries his face even deeper into the crook of your neck that makea you press a tender peck atop his head in growing affection.
It's hard to love Bakugou. But it's worth the way he looks at you, as if you're the only thing worth living for.
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raccoon-necromant · 4 months
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The guys are already pro-heroes, gathered at the reunion.
Bk: - Your costumes are shit, of course. Wherever you've been in them.
Dk: - Kacchan, that's rude. At least remember where you were to the reunion.
Bk: - I were inside you to the reu-
Dk, closed his mouth: - Shut up!
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katcolors · 1 year
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My art for getting 2,000 on twitter!
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chaotic-bun · 1 year
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catzawa is my spirit animal 🐈‍⬛
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losthibiscus13 · 4 months
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Adding some of the sketch work I’ve been working on! I’m so determined to make a fan comic with my oc! It’s a lot of work but I’ll do my best! 😤
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lady-draws · 29 days
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It’s been so long and I’m so bad at captions so let’s roll the tape and get into the lore.
—Mizukiri is pretty bad at friendships or relationships or connections to people in general, she has struggled with it and frankly grew not to care about trying to forge relationships, so in a way she doesn’t care when things like that fail because her mind was never truly into it. She expresses herself more in actions than in words and finds that doing stuff is easier to show she finds a person she’s around “tolerable”.
Can y’all guess her mbti type 😂😂
(Reblog and Comment ❤️🎀💕)
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the-stranger-artist · 10 months
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Hey!!! I made this fanfic called JAEGER WAR featuring ATLA and other five anime as a retelling of Marvel's Infinity War. You can read the first two chapters here:
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bloodabi · 1 year
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Normalcy | one shot
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Pairing: None. it's just Dabi.
Synopsis: Dabi's just a normal guy, not a villain. He's just out there living his life like a regular dude.
A/N: Hi. I'm back. First thing I've written in a long time and it's a comfort piece for me. I just wanted to see dabi being happy and having a peaceful little life. It's absolutely self indulgent. Please let me know if you like it though :3 Reblogs and feedback always appreciated!
Tags: Mentions of Dabi's past homelessness, implied childhood abuse in Dabi's past, bad jokes.
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He was normal if you looked past the severe burn scars that covered him. He was just your average guy. Yeah, he happened to have a tragic backstory, but plenty of people these days have one too. 
The name change was a precaution. He really didn’t need his dad dragging him back to that hell hole. He was thirteen at the time. A thirteen-year-old boy picking out a name for himself after all the shit he had been through was a bad idea. It was bound to be edgy and cringe, but it was unavoidable. As he began rubbing black box dye in his hair, he looked in the mirror and finally decided. He was Dabi from now on. Now, at the ripe age of twenty-four, the name had stuck. Did he regret naming himself that? Yeah, maybe a little. Was he going to change it to something else? Nah. 
It was hard to find a job when you looked like a discount Freddy Kruger. Thankfully, Dabi struck up a conversation with an old man in a bar one night. He was the only person in the building who willingly talked to Dabi. Anyone who looked at him would figure he’s probably a villain, ready to kill at any second. Luckily enough, the guy Dabi talked to that night was completely blind. Dabi told him he was out of work and had been for a while. The man, sympathizing with his struggle, offered him a job at the café he owned. Dabi graciously accepted. 
Ah, minimum wage. At least he got free coffee. 
Having to explain to a blind man that you’re a Frankenstein lookalike is not an easy job, but it had to be done. When Dabi held the man’s hands up to his face to let him feel his scars, there was no shock, no fear or frown on his face. The old man smiled. Dabi got the early morning shift, 4:30am to 8am. He had to wear a mask for the time being, but that was okay. He was told that one day, he could take it off. He would know when. Damn, are old people always this cryptic?
Waking up early felt nice. Opening the café and watching the sky turn pink became one of his favorite things. He fell asleep at 9pm like an old man now, but it was worth it for that view. He had always stayed up well into the night, watching twilight come and go, sleeping when the sun began to rise. This change was a welcome one. Barista life was simple, especially this early in the morning. Things didn’t pick up until about 6:30 or 7am, so half of his shift was a time of peace for him. He could make himself a cup with a splash of cream, turn on some quiet music, and look out the windows. His co-workers didn’t show up until around an hour into his shift, so he had the whole building to himself. Being alone had never felt nice until now. 
His co-workers were afraid of him at first, as everyone always is. Even with the mask on, Dabi was an intimidating guy. It was how he carried himself, always taking a defensive stance and putting out what could only be called a “don’t fuck with me” vibe. What ruined this image for them was just how much he loved to talk. Dabi can’t ever shut up. He’ll talk about anything and everything. He’s quite the personable guy once you make an effort to talk to him the first time. He would crack jokes and play around. He was comfortable to be with once you looked past his exterior. It's always the traumatized that make the best jokes.
He had finally saved up enough paychecks to get his very own apartment. Until now he had been squatting in abandoned buildings and sleeping in alleyways. He could hardly believe it. He had a shower now. He had enough money to buy a futon too. He had a bed! Damn, that’s crazy! He was living big!
But, with more villainous activity happening and the retirement of the number-one hero, the Japanese economy wasn’t doing too great. Could Dabi explain to you why money was worth less and shit was more expensive? Nope. He never finished middle school. All he knew is that it sucked. He needed more hours to make rent for his sweet new place. So, he went back to his boss, the kind man who had helped him before, and said: “Hey Gramps, can I, uh, maybe take an afternoon shift?” There was no hesitation. Dabi never asked him for anything before. After months of working for him, he was sure Dabi would be just fine out in the daylight. He was given a shift from 2 to 7pm. 
Those beginning hours of his second shift were right when schools let out. Students would flood in, getting something incredibly caffeinated and sitting down to study. Sometimes groups of friends would stroll in, mostly on Fridays, giggling and celebrating the end of another week. Many of the kids were regulars, so they were quick to notice a new face behind the counter. Some weren’t the most welcoming, being taken aback by Dabi’s appearance. Others tried to make pleasant small talk with him to break the ice. Over time, they all warmed up. They would say hello, ask how his day had been going, and smile when they saw him. For the past decade of being out on the street, kids had always been terrified of him. This was another very welcome change. He took his mask off. Nothing changed except that the weight on his shoulders dissipated. 
On his days off, he lounged around his studio apartment, eating cold noodles on his futon and watching mindless daytime TV. Occasionally he would indulge himself in The Real Housewives of Japan, other times he turned on the news. Seeing his father in that ugly hero get-up, praised for saving the day or something, made him sick. 
“I hope that league of whatever kills that bastard.” 
Once he was done being pissed, he would turn on his gaming console, a vintage PS5, a relic now in the year 2XXX, and played games the people around him had never heard of. His favorite had to be the Souls series, providing enough challenge and enough lore to satisfy his needs. He liked Resident Evil too, although the graphics on the older games were laughable. 
Things in Dabi’s life were calm. They were normal; he was normal, all things considered. He could’ve turned out a lunatic, but miraculously, he held himself together. Being a kid on the streets was tough, but he had taped himself back together out of sheer spite. He managed to make a living, make a few friends, and keep a roof over his head. Having his very own apartment was the thing he was most proud of. He now had begun thinking of other things he could do in his life. He was young, relatively spry, and eager to do something meaningful. He was never enough for his father, but he wants to be enough for himself. He wants nothing more than to feel prideful. He could finish his education. Yeah, that was an idea, a possibly obtainable one too. Maybe he could do something even bigger, though. 
He thought about the first time he looked in the mirror after running away, the same night he gave himself his name. That kid had looked rough; skin falling apart, skinny and starving, and no semblance of light in his eyes. He winced at the memory of his own cold stare. He never wanted to see that again. If he were to look in the mirror and see that now, he would be terrified. He never wanted to feel that hopeless and broken again. He wanted to be happy. 
That was it. He wanted to be happy. That was the big thing he could do. Nothing would piss off his father more than seeing him content with himself. Bringing himself joy would be the ultimate revenge. He decided to do everything in his power to feel happiness, even if only for a fleeting moment. He would put a ton of sweetener in his coffee. He would sleep in on rainy days off. He would call a friend over to help him dye his hair and watch a movie. All these little things would add up into lasting joy. 
Life had gone from painful and horrifying to something peaceful. He was healing. It took him a long time to get here, and he had a long time ahead, but now he could see a future where he couldn’t see one before. He was now able to see himself growing up and into his thirties and forties. He imagined a happy little life with happy people around him. He imagined love and comfort. Most of all, he imagined a bigger bed and a toilet that didn’t clog all the time. Maybe if he kept saving up, he could get a bigger apartment. That would be sick as hell. 
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queenendless · 2 months
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❤️‍🩹Flare (Keigo Takami/Hawks x Adult!Fem!Reader)❤️‍🩹
A/n: IT'S BEEN SO LONG! Sorry for the wait! I went through a Hawks writing funk. Also been working on JJK stuff. And watching a bunch of stuff too.
So, this piece is a self indulgent venting one cause I have chronic flare up pains going for 3 years now so this piece is kinda based off of a day in the life of me when dealing with my particular condition; feet wise. So I'd get it if reading this ain't up your alley. I just wish I had someone like Hawks to comfort me and quell my pain and worries.
AU, already established relationship with angst, hurt/comfort, fluff and feels indeed.
*PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE STEAL COPY TRANSLATE AND OR REPOST MY FANFIC WORK. REBLOG LIKE AND FOLLOW INSTEAD PLEASE AND THNX U.
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Chronic pain is a living hell.
Engraved into your body.
Will leave on its own accord or be stuck with you for life.
Unfortunately, it was panning out to be the latter for you.
Staying up all night, multitasking from working on your laptop to checking the news to see your birdie partner engaging in a team up with his idol of a hero Endeavor alongside their hero works students.
Pride beamed in you at seeing Keigo in action, feather swords in hand to disarm his opponents, swooping in with his feathers spreading out to push and carry and guide the civilians to safety amidst the chaos.
The dews of dawn crept in as you finally finished when it happened.
Going in 3 years so far, the hereditary curse triggered in you from your pent up stress collapsing on itself resulted in flaring burning footsies.
Fatigue stung your eyes.
Your head pounded in dull pain.
With the curtains blocking out the light and the AC set to cool, you thought the cold would push the swelling burning go away.
But this was turning out to be one of those worse days.
You curled up in the fetal position on your bed, taking over 2 hours to fall asleep.
Falling in and out of slumber, you were now restless.
You heard the slide-in door of your living room balcony opening followed by the thump of footsteps and the flap of wings.
Always keeping it unlocked for him when he took a dive straight to your place. It is more of a home to him than his penthouse of a place that was still filled with unpacked boxes of furniture and such.
“Hey! Baby bird? Ya home?”
Hearing his heavy footsteps inching close, of course he'd first check your room.
Having only been seeing each other for a few months, you knew you couldn't keep this hidden from him for the long run.
His muffled voice finally came from behind your door. “Birdie?”
You knew his feathers could pick up even your quiet tone. “Here.”
Seeing light trickle in through the crack of the door, the man himself blocked out most of it from his frame. “Why is it dark – shit – and cold in here!?”
His shivering self hug was halted as those pupils shrunk behind his visor as he opened up the door more to shine the light in to unveil your red irritated feet. “Y/n? W – What happened?” He quickly came to your side, alarmed at the sight. Gobsmacked to be precise.
“Just circulatory defectiveness. Chronic stuff, ya know.” Your attempt at brushing it off like it was no big deal only riled up his feathers. Literally.
“No I didn't know! I've just found out!” Stripping off his gloves that fell to the floor, his calloused hands carefully felt your sensitive red dorsums. “How bad is it?”
“The tingling and burning really gets to you when you're trying to focus on work or sleep.” You winced for even his cautious fingers featherly brushing your veiny skin did little to quell the soreness. “Makes it harder to sleep when I'm not on the brink of exhaustion.”
Cradling one foot in his hands, Keigo's eyes trembled with emotion. “For how long?”
You couldn't meet his serious gaze. You looked away. “This year makes it three.”
“I get that everyone has their fair share of secrets but … ” The hurt in his voice cracked your heart.
“You have enough to deal with as is. My defective self is stuck dealing with this.” Your reasons made him wince at how true it was.
“Even so,” he set your foot down gently just so he could sit right beside you, his face hovering right above yours, gently cradling your head as he forced you to look him dead in the eye. “You shouldn't feel the need to hide this kind of thing from me.”
You self consciously fidget, throat choked up and lips wobbling. Your beautiful eyes grew in beauty from the tears but it just made him want to kiss them away. So he did.
“I have my fair share of secrets. Comes with my hero work … not to mention my past.” The crestfallen haze in his gaze was there one moment before his eyes lit up with endearment as you filled his sight. “You're the only one I'm willing to be myself around and just … be honest.”
“I was … embarrassed. I didn't want you seeing me like this.”
Taking off his visor then his headphones, his serious tone sent shivers racing through you. “I want to see all of you … the real you … the you I fell hard for.”
Setting his things aside on the nightstand, that left him free for you to hug his neck with no obstacles. He kept layering butterfly pecks against your cheeks and eyelids, curling your lips in response to his affection.
“You were scared. I get it. I was the same when I felt ready to tell you about my past … but you more than anybody reassured me I could trust you with my troubles, my feelings, all of it.”
His genuinity made you whimper and sniffle out of that shared sentiment as he helped you sit up.
“What's the point of being the #2 hero if I can't use my resources to help out my partner? Especially when you've been suffering this whole time.” He was sticking to this newfound resolve.
“Chronic stuff is incurable.” You sniffed at the sight of him pulling out a spare cloth outta his jacket pocket, wiping up your wet cheeks before dabbing your runny nose, letting you blow as well.
“There's still experimental treatment. Physical therapy. You still have options. And I'll help you in any way I can.” He is so charming and persuasive.
“Fine … I did miss having you here.”
“C'm here.” He immediately gathered you up in his arms, letting you bury your face in his shoulder, taking it all out.
The strain in your choked sobs. The pent up exhaustion, the struggle, the pain of the past three years you kept inside. Your blubbering got soaked up on his sleeve but he didn't mind one bit.
“It's okay, Y/n. Just let it out.” The enriching relaxing sounds of his voice kept you grounded. Solid. Assured.
“I'm here. I gotcha.” He squeezed you firmly but gently, rubbing your back in gentle motions with one hand and simultaneously weaving through your hair with the other; his fingers brushing them as soothingly as he could. “You're sleep deprived as is. You deserve to rest.”
“Only if you're staying.” You stubbornly set straight.
Keigo grinned, pecked your lips, drawing it out, filled to the brim with reciprocation and affection. “Deal.”
He cradled the back of your noggin as Keigo peppered kisses all over your face, gently pushing you to lay on your back as those lips traversed to your neck.
Your feet brushed together and your toes curled as Keigo spent the next few minutes sucking and nibbling all over your neck, his wings draping over you both, and your breathy moans feeding into his pleased ears.
Sleep could wait for a while longer.
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talimlbcnart · 2 years
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Dragon Shouto AU
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And here's the story behind it that no one asked for (excuse my english) :
Dragons are proud and wise creatures that bow to no one. Masters of shapeshifting and wild magic, these creatures are treated as divine by humans. Living high up in the mountains inside temples and sanctuaries, they don't associate with those pathetic  mortals. At least that's what Enji told his children.
But when have they ever listened to him?
Flying away during the night to spend time with mortal girls, using their shape-shifting to befriend the humans, most of these were Natsuo's ideas but Touya and Fuyumi always joined him. Never Shouto though, he had to stay inside, he had to train his magic.
One particular night, there was an accident, his mother didn't mean to hurt him, he knew, but that didn't make it less painful.
So he ran away. A 6 year old, alone and without a safe home to go back to. At least that would've been the case if a little boy who happened to be at the forest that time hadn't found the little dragon and brought him back home.
Aaaaand that's all I have for now.
😅 hope you liked it. Because I'm probably not doing ot again.
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llobu-cerval · 2 years
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All Smite took the “take your child to work” day too seriously
based on the AU from @stormcallart​
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