#scar's pro dirt house

[tired-biscuit]

18+ / fem!reader

ok but bakugou with a bimbo!reader as a girlfriend?

honestly, he might seem mean, stoic and perhaps even humourless to others, however he simply adores you and turns all sorts of soft and gooey underneath all that hard exterior whenever he lays his eyes on you: his sweet little girlfriend.

you're just too precious not to love. all dolled up and smelling sweet like sugar and ripe summer fruit no matter the time of day or activity, you make him want to eat you right up just because of how simply adorable you are without even trying; outright make him want to lick his fingers clean right after. one after the other.

constantly getting lost and being so clearly ditzy, he insists on protecting you at all costs so that he can keep you close and, even more importantly, safe. he does that on the regular, of course - being a pro hero and all - however the skirts you wear despite the cold weather outside are so short that he feels the need to stand behind you in public even when he's not on the job; making sure that nobody can ever steal a peek of your cutesy underwear that you wear underneath.

those are for his eyes only, after all. only for his hands to touch and for his teeth to jokingly tug at until it's not all that funny anymore and thick tension rises between you.

and sure, bakugou knows that you're able to protect yourself from the perverts and the odd, borderline obsessed fans of his - to some degree. he's taught you some basic self-defence moves over the months, and made sure to beat it into your pretty little head that you are to keep the pepper spray - the one he got you as a "present" a little while after he'd reluctantly made your relationship official on live television - nice and secure in your comically small handbag, however the need to keep you from harm's way is simply too strong to ignore.

because clearly, you're just too naive to notice danger in a way he is able to. too nice to say a definite 'no' to a sleazy creep before it's a little too late. i mean, what if someone were to take advantage of you? hurt you? he couldn't possibly bear the consequences. not a man like him. no, no.

but it's okay, that's why you've got him - the big, strong pro hero, right at your side like a scary guard dog of sorts that will roll onto its back only for you. you've got his mean stare that he aims, oh, so expertly at the people that wish to bother you, but that he never, never points at you. his low hiss of warning that's accompanied with an even quieter threat of broken bones, which he always makes extra sure you can't hear him say, much less execute. his big, protective hand on the small of your back; thick fingers stroking, reassuring. his lips touching your temple whenever no one is looking, a mere ghost of a kiss placed on your skin as a silent reminder of his love for you. of his male pride and naturally embedded possessiveness.

and he actually does love you, he truly does. he loves how simple things with you are, how you just let him take care of you and spoil you rotten because you know it makes him feel needed; that it gives him purpose. how you run up to him, all eager and excited, and nearly throw yourself at him to squeeze him into a hug, not caring if anyone sees. how you bat your eyelashes up at him so sweetly as you touch his biceps and tell him how strong he is after he returns from the gym.

he loves how you always wait for him to come back after work even if he's told you a million times that you don't have to stay up, giving the big house a sense of home as you wash his hair for him after brushing him off with a giggle. loves how you scrub away the dirt and grime afterwards, and kiss every single one of his scars that dot his arms and chest inside the candle-lit bathroom, whose ambiance he can't help but find sort of corny even though he secretly enjoys it nonetheless.

and he also loves how much you blatantly love him in return, too. he loves your little good morning texts that are filled to the brim with sparkly heart emojis, as well as all of the surprise visits to his agency. he loves your lousy sugar cookies and your seemingly never-ending affection. how you never seem to even think about giving up on him, even if he's, let's be honest, an absolute pain in the ass.

and that's not all. he also loves how good you respond to him; to his touches. how you stare up at him with wide heart eyes whenever he's in the mood and his warm hands begin to stroke your body in a way that means something more. loves how you whimper so softly and mewl like a little kitten whenever he turns you around and mounts you like the big beast he is compared to you; red eyes watching as your pretty nails start clawing at the expensive bed sheet because of his slow, tired rhythm that reaches deep into your heart, soul, womb, but never your brain.

he loves how eager you are to please him. how you have absolutely no problem stroking his ego in the same way you also stroke his cock whenever he asks for it. how you open up for him any place, any time, with no trouble whatsoever; your body so pliant and soft just for him to devour.

he loves how his name sounds broken as you try to moan it out whilst you're bouncing on top of him and he spanks your ass and calls you a dumb slut. how your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pushes forward and puts you in a mating press a moment later. how tears roll down your cheeks as you choke on his length when he asks you to suck him off at the end, and how you accept a hefty amount of inches down your throat even if the mascara and glitter of your pretty make up makes your eyes burn.

and god, he adores how silly you look afterwards; completely fucked out of your ditzy mind as he cradles you to sleep, subtly ignoring how sticky you both are because of all the cum between your legs. you'll shower and change the bedding in the morning. he can't even be bothered to wipe away the sweat from his face, much less move you - that's how tight of a hold you've got on him.

and as he stares down at you, looking at your satisfied smile that's adorning your lips, katsuki thinks you're just so dumb. constantly giggly and almost painfully girlish, you're nothing but an airhead, really. much to everyone's surprise, however, he finds it sort of endearing.

you're his little airhead. and he loves you so much.

reblogs are appreciated <3

#bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #biscuit drabbles

[punemy-spotted]

Sixteen Tons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Muscle and Blood

Pairing: Miner!Curtis Everett x Witch!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS A HORROR FIC, Discussion of death, graphic depiction of someone bleeding out, 1890s coal mining town aesthetic in the modern day, strong pro-union opinions, Pentecostal Christianity, Appalachian Gothic Horror, Cosmic Horror, See future chapter warnings for additional tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: The world melts away, rots into dirt and decay, and as a garden grows untended, you find your gifts crowding out the rest of your life.

We all know that the only light in the deep dark is a paycheck. So hush. Count your blessings, boy. Roof over your head, food on the table, diesel and grease, work boots on the porch, crippled back, crumbling joints, and silence. Company and even union, tuck you in, shut you up, and leave you to rot. And God damn it, you’d better be grateful. - Old Gods of Appalachia Episode 3: The Covenant

Notes: This fic also serves as a sort of direct sequel to Glory, Amen, in that the reader is technically the daughter of Pastor and Ma Rogers, but uses a pseudonym outside of the home she grew up in. The song referenced in this chapter is No Glory, by The Eagle Rock Gospel Singers. They're wonderful, so check them out!

At the time of publishing this chapter, the Family Sleepover, Down in the Valley is still ongoing! Please come by and check it out as we celebrate spooky season all year ‘round!

Also, in this house we support Unions.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

‘Course, everything dies, eventually. Much as you loathed sittin’ through your daddy’s sermons, you knew the truth in ‘em — death is a prize every livin’ being, regardless of sapience or the desire to be, ought to aspire for.

Death is the gift of all gifts, your daddy would proclaim from his bone-and-antler pulpit, the final gesture of our loving Lord and Savior — an’ of course, you, your sisters, your momma, your daddy and a few others your daddy claimed were kinfolk on his side were just… all the guides meant to introduce all manner of worldly beings too blind t’understand just how precious that kind of oblivion was to the glory of that final, permanent end.

Still.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Curtis Everett is going to die in your kitchen, his own pickaxe embedded in his chest, the final desperate pumps of his pierced heart pouring blood all over that pretty linoleum you didn’t actually like keepin’ in your kitchen an’ probably would tear up after you came to terms with never feelin’ like you could scrub away the remnants of him.

You watch it play out before you like you’ve done plenty of times before, the course of Curtis Everett’s life written in scars yet t’be earned, bruises waitin’ to bloom on flesh that has known little more than the danger an’ dread of coal dust for as long as you have known him.

You also watch him sittin’ in your clinic, for once not complainin’ as you finish cleaning and re-wrappin’ the thankfully not festering burn he’d been dutifully lettin’ you treat — per your own professional orders — for the past week-and-a-half, Looks like it’s healin’ nicely, but it’ll probably scar.

It’s not the first scar he’s earned in Snowpiercer, but it’s certainly not goin’ to be the last. You’ve been countin’ down the months — and injuries — to that particular worry for a while. The ones you can help him avoid — the ones he listens to you about — you warn against, and the ones he can’t escape, you patch up. The same as you would anyone in Snowpiercer, bein’ the company’s own doctor as you are.

Your momma’d scold you up, down an’ sideways if she knew what you were doin’, interferin’ with the predestined path of men as you watched ‘em struggle, suffer, an’ eventually succumb. But your momma wasn’t here to know, an’ ever if she was, your momma’d never be able to understand just what sorta poison of a gift it was she’d saddled you with.

Death is a Rogers daughter’s birthright, even if they themselves were more often than not denied the majesty of its truest gift. You were not born into this life to die, but to be a guardian of it, to guide the walkin’ dead makin’ their way beyond the borders of that ol’Holler you’d been born in through the trials of judgment an’ that precious, ultimate verdict.

You were not, your momma woulda reminded, voice sharp as the trowel she always kept at her side, garden bloomin’ by her stern hand, meant to shield ‘em from the pains of life — an’ the lessons to be gleaned from ‘em!

Anythin’ you want me to do with it? Curtis Everett’s question breaks you out of your bitterness, reminds you of the more pressin’ responsibilities you chose. You turn to watch him, lookin’ at him as if you might just need a moment to remember the exact instructions you ought to give for his wound care.

Except that’s not what you give, is it?

‘Stead, you look over Curtis Everett’s work-weary expression, the quest dread in his eyes at the prospect of needin’ to manage yet one more thing, one more purchase at the Company Store, one more burden to bear, Just come by every evenin’. I’ll keep the coal dust outta them wrappin’s for you.

You know full well you’ll need to work late t’take care of it — an’ t’clean the coal dust outta your clinic — but it’s better you than him.

Least, that’s what you tell yourself, as Curtis Everett’s shoulder relax, relief floodin’ those work-weathered features you’ve almost started memorizing by this time, makin’ the sleep you will almost certainly lose tomorrow and the remainder of this week worth it.

It must always be worth it.

By the time you leave your clinic, barrin’ the doors for  the night, even the moon’s started its settin’, leaving the town in near-pitch darkness. You might’ve — if you were young an’ naïve enough — equated the darkness around you to a mineshaft, if mineshafts still had the privilege of fresh air to reward you for breathin’.

Not on Company Time.

Wiser folk than you might’ve considered stayin’ indoors ‘til sunup. Maybe even considered the merits of puttin’ a cot in your office to avoid havin’ to brave the deep woods durin’ the Witchin’ Hour, everyone more than aware of what sorta shadows lurked beyond the borders of a sad little minin’ town — an’ what sorta shadows would encroach upon those borders the moment they got the chance.

You… ain’t got much time t’think about that now though, not when you catch sight of the figure lurkin’ by the road, the only path there is t’ween your two worlds — the Clinic and the House. Everett?

There he is, hands jammed into the pockets of his overcoat, lurkin’ by the lone streetlamp Pierce an’ Rumlow’d finally seen fit to install in this part of town, after you’d spent about four years complainin’. Too late to be walkin’ back alone, Doctor, he tells you, almost sheepishly, expression invisible in the darkness — and yet you know exactly how his lips have curved into a half-smile you might’ve been quick to return had you seen it in the daytime, Figured I’d walk you back up as thanks for stayin’  late for me.

You can’t help yourself, really — you smile at him right back, the corners of your mouth tickin’ up despite the cruelty playin’ out before your eyes, at least until you remember yourself an’ blink away the vision, If I kept the same hours as you pit boys, nobody’d be gettin’ patched up. Now you best not be tellin’ me you were lurkin’ out here in the pitch dark an’ cold waitin’ for me t’finish my notes and close up, Curtis Everett.

Maybe you ought not have put words in his mouth — or taken ‘em out, as the case may be — as he shrugs at you and flashes you a grin you cannot see but are certain of, Then I won’t, Doctor.

An’ with that, he starts off back down the road, towards the lights still spillin’ from the windows of your boarding house, hummin’ some ol’ work song you only halfway knew the words too. An’ you watch him go on for longer than you should, takin’ in the sight of his silhouette slowly becomin’ part of the gloom.

You catch up soon enough, keepin’ up with his long, languid strides as if by some miracle, your own steps quick and harried. There are moments you wonder how a man like Curtis Everett — always managin’ to tower over everyone in the room, includin’ Superintendent Wilford an’ that lady Minister Mason he’d installed over at  the Tabernacle of the Iron Gospel — ever really managed to fit in the mines this whole sad sack of a town was built around.

Shouldn’t have stayed out waitin’ for me, you scold with a good-natured ribbin’, not really meaning to chastise… but worry instead, You’ll’ve missed dinner call, Everett.

So’ve you, Doctor, he counters, the burr of laughter in his voice makin’ you roll your eyes an’ put on a scowl you barely mean — mostly cuz you hate feelin’ so outwitted, but no one dare make you admit it.

I’m allowed to be late, I own the place, you argue right back, a rebuttal that earns you another low chuckle, a sound you’re only used to hearin’ from Curtis on rare occasion — earnin’ you a burn of pride in your chest at hearing it now.

You really ought not do this, you know. But here you are, comfortable in the cold silence of the deep night, hands jammed into your coat pockets, walkin’ alongside Curtis Everett with all the calm an’ ease of dear friends.

Glancing at him. Looking without lookin’, pretendin’ you don’t know what you’ll see when you—

You know better, is the bottom line. You know you ought to know better — hell, you know your momma taught you better.

In the corner of your vision, Curtis Everett bleeds his last on your linoleum floor.

In front of you? Curtis Everett hums a work song an’ walks with you through the gloom, right up to the gold-light gleam of your doorstep an’ into your kitchen, the ghosts of the future fadin’ into an approaching dawn.

An’ maybe that’s enough.

Company House — its true name barely in use by you or your boarders, halfway for your own protection an’ halfways cuz it’s just easier — is a handsome-enough structure, nothin’ like that ramblin’ greenhouse you’d sprouted in, a bloom in your momma’s garden.

No. Company House — name lost an’ purpose found — on the other hand, is yours. All yours.

A loomin’ thing, the house cuts through the nighttime gloom like a lighthouse, every window on its main story burstin’ with light. Built on a hill overlookin’ the town proper, it served as home an’ hearth for any miner ineligible for the pretty pre-built housin’ developments south of the mine, where Pierce & Rumlow… rewarded those willin’ to produce more bodies to throw into that gapin’ wound the combine’d carved into the mountainside with such luxuries as driveways, fences, mortgages, an’ obligations.

It was just the way you liked it. Home for the lonely an’ the friendless — least that’s how it sounded in town, if someone dared ask Minister Mason about the mountain fortress an’ the ‘Godless Heathens’ inhabitin’ it. The Iron Gospel she preached ran on the blood an’ bones of its congregation, on family an’ obligation, on ties that bind whole generations to the mine.

A Gospel that had no room for the wholly different kinda worship that comes from strangers sittin’ round a table breakin’ bread an’ formin’ bonds. On brotherhood an’ union, on wantin’ somethin’ better that the paltry concessions afforded by minders with plenty of money t’provide more. You knew it then from your daddy’s own congregation an’ those Sunday suppers your momma arranged each week. You know it now from the warm surety of Curtis Everett’s hand on your arm, keepin’ you from losin’ your footing on that trick step you ain’t had time to fix — I can get Ed to take care of that tomorrow — and the sound of hurried conversation bubbling outta your front parlor, house still buzzin’ with life.

Shit, Curtis’s swearing nearly startles you outta your skin all over again as you both stand on the front porch, stompin’ the day’s coal dust off your shoes, forgot there was meeting tonight. Foreman’s gonna have words for me, no doubt.

You’re allowed t’be late, for walkin’ me home, you tell him, letting the light of the house illuminate your smile as you open the front door.

Meeting is a cute word for it — s’the way things go, get the lonely and the friendless to start airin’ grievances an’ suddenly they ain’t so lonely nor so friendless anymore. A man with a wife and children might think twice about givin’ the company a reason to tear away the roof over his family’s head, divin’ into his future tomb day after day, respirator an’ headlamp in hand, but a man with nothin’ to lose is a man with a bone to pick with the only industry in town capable of puttin’ food in his belly on a daily basis — so long as he survived to see his next meal. Unions, you got used to hearin’ back in your own holler, are the Lord’s way of puttin’ His protection back into a man’s own hands.

Too bad them folks at P&R’d forgotten that sorta conventional wisdom.

Tonight’s union meeting is just about comin’ to a close when you and Curtis walk in, a cracked joke derailing whatever Gilliam’s supposed agenda had left to cover. You’re late, the old man half-scolds, room hushed by his disappointment as all eyes turn to you and the union leader you know you’re already being accused of distracting.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Ignoring the raised voices that begin in your wake — and unwilling to get between two men in the middle of a union dispute — you make yourself proper scarce, disappearing into the kitchen. Between running the clinic and  the house, you’re run halfway ragged, but you do cheer quietly upon seeing two foil-covered plates sitting in the fridge — Yona keeps true to her eternal word, making sure nobody goes hungry if she’s got the time and the ingredients.

The sound of someone entering the kitchen while you’re putting plates in the warmer don’t surprise you much — someone was bound to follow you into this place eventually — but you don’t turn around, not immediately.

Not ‘til Curtis Everett clears his throat, Thought I smelled food.

You sure  you ain’t part bloodhound, smellin’ it all the way out there?

There. Another burr of laughter, low in his throat, and another burn of pride.

They calm down out there? You wave your hand toward the general direction of the parlor, noting the distinct lack of raised voices now that the warmer’s stopped beepin’ at you.

It’s my fault — should’ve told ‘em I’d be late.

They worried?

He’s quiet at that, the silence sittin’ heavy on both your shoulders while you move around the kitchen some more, collectin’ utensils and glancin’ back at him occasionally, waiting.

Finally — Gilliam’s steppin’ down. Nobody wants the job — company’s made sure of that.

You set the platter in front of him, to quiet thanks, He still want you to take over?

He don’t need to answer. You see it again, written all over his face — someone’s gotta do it.

The rest of the meal is… quiet. Heavy. Uncomfortable. A silence neither of you are willin’ to break, coupled with glances neither of you are willin’ to admit to, brows furrowed and thoughts elsewhere. Barely tasting the food, just glad to have something to busy your mouths with, ‘stead of trying to hold a conversation neither party wants t’have or worse — trying to change the fuckin’ subject, with both your minds trapped on the things you’d rather not think about.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Everything dies, eventually. You rationalize it between bites, teeth on tongue to keep the scream of it all held in your chest. Everything dies, including Curtis Everett. Including Gilliam — whose death you’ve pre-emptively forgiven certain parties for. Including Yona — whose hands will evidence endless adventures before she lays down for that final rest, satisfied an’ satisfying. Everything dies. Includin’ Curtis Everett.

Curtis Everett, who will take on the work. Who, in three weeks’ time, will be back in your clinic, bullet in his shoulder an’ strike unbroken. Company infuriated.

One injury closer.

You open your mouth, about to do the unthinkable, disappointment and poisoned bloom — everythin’ dies, but Curtis Everett deserves to choose — when the music finally registers with you both.

Music. And singing. And laughter.

The kitchen door slams open hard enough to rattle the plates in the cupboard, Yona’s wild presence in the doorway, Come on!

No explanation. No answers. You’ll have t’see it to know it.

Curtis glances back at you, brow raised an’ hackles too. Better make sure they’re behavin’ out there, is all you give in response to it, on your feet in a flash, empty dishes in hand.

He lingers, eyes on you. Imposes his will with his presence, You need help with the dishes?

Let him stay.

You don’t.

S’two plates an’ a couple mugs. I’ll be fine — you go, keep an eye on ‘em for me.

He’s so fast — behind you in a flash. How does a man so tall an’ so full of presence move so fast?

Got no time  for answering that, not when his hand’s on your shoulder and you’re glancin’ back at him without thinkin’, waiting. Come out there when you’re done or Yona’ll never let either of us hear the end of it.

An’ neither will I, is what he doesn’t say. Not aloud, at least, stepping back only when you nod.

It don’t stop you from hearin’ it though, playin’ on loop in your mind all the way through dishes, through cleanin’ up your kitchen, through makin’ good on your word an’ takin’ that cautious walk to your parlor, where the sound of stompin’ boots joins in with the chorus of voices pouring outta your record player, blessedly drownin’ out all manner of conscious thought.

Take me down to that red dirt road Where all them white tails, white tails roam

The parlor is abuzz with life, a hive of movement as you take in rearranged furniture an’ the slowly climbin’ beat of stomping boots coupled with clapping hands, ring of bodies circlin’ the room, all watching Tanya — up from the General Store like always, on behalf of the widows this town left behind — in her valiant attempt to tutor Edgar in the complexities an’ social conventions of a good ol’ fashioned barn dance.

I don’t belong in a big coal town Can’t hear my Lord in all that sound

You almost manage t’become part of that ring of onlookers, slippin’ past the disapproval ruining Gilliam’s face, but turns out no one escapes Curtis Everet, work-hardened fingers winding around your wrist an’ pulling you back, Thought I was gonna have t’come rescue you from the sink, and now there’s no getting away, nor are you feelin’ quite so keen on it anymore.

Not when he looks at you like that.

Wanna show ‘em how it’s done, Doctor?

You dance, Everett? Since when? And since when did Curtis Everett become capable of smiling so sweet he just might fool you into saying yes?

Hell — what gave him the right?

Well I’ve had my fill, of concrete floor Where all them highways, them highways grow

You don’t get a chance to ask too many questions of him, not when he’s pullin’ your fool self right into the center of that cleared floor, sayin’ somethin’ about secrets you barely catch before he’s turnin’ you about an’ you gotta start paying some fucking attention.

There ain’t no glory None that I see None to compare Your love for me

‘Course, you’ve danced before — your daddy might’ve been a fire an’ brimstone preacher up at that bone an’ antler pulpit but he wasn’t a fool — but barn dances an’ church revivals don’t do shit t’prepare you for the rush, for the easy pressure of Curtis Everett’s hands on you, for the peal of laughter that pours outta your throat before you get a chance to think about it the moment he spins you out an’ catches you back with entirely too much ease.

He surprises you and doesn’t at the same time, sure hands and steady feet, both of you catching on to the rhythm quickly as the rest of the room drums the beat, a cacophony of work boots strikin’ the floor in a steady pattern, You gonna answer my question properly, Everett, you accuse him and he pulls you closer, smile on your face betrayin’ any anger you might be feigning.

I’m full of surprises, Doctor.

My days are few, my time is near But I know God will take my fear

He keeps his hands respectful, holdin’ one of your high and keepin’ the other at the small of your back, but there’s nothin’ either of you can — or want to, you’re startin’ to realize — do about the closeness, about the way you can’t stop looking up at him and the stormclouds in his eyes, like you’re seeing them for the first time. Really seeing them, that is.

It’s somethin’. Hypnotic.

The chorus turns into a loop, a rising swell of voices joinin’ your thudding heartbeat, lips parting to ask another question, make another joke, feel that burr of laughter against your chest, feel hands fallin’ from the glory of God to meet a different kinda worship, feel fingers curl into his coat like a lifeline.

He holds your cheek. He draws you in.

His mouth slides over yours like an invitation, your lips parting like an acceptance, like forgetting, like surrender. The music does not slow, but you do, fallin’ into the languid ease of hungry breathlessness, like you could find answers in the sweep of a tongue against yours, in the tightening of his grip on your back, in the wall of him around you.

Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x fem!reader #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine #fanfiction #writing #in which tessa finally writes something #series: down here in this valley

[vinylflooring]

How to Clean and Maintain LVT Floors for a Long-Lasting Finish

There is an old adage which says that "Prevention is better than cure". The proverb couldn’t be more appropriate for LVT flooring. Many of you may wonder about the analogy between the two. This inference is made vis-à-vis preventing damage to luxury vinyl tiles, which incidentally is also one of the ways to prolong its finish.

PREVENTION -

Some of the ways to keep LVT vinyl flooring healthy are -

Make sure your movable furniture is cushioned with rubber or soft plastic caps. These protectors will prevent scratches when moved to and fro.

If installation of caps is not possible, a non-slip mat can be placed below the furniture.

Here is a pro tip. Set up door mats at every entry, especially in areas that boast LVT flooring. This will prevent dirt and debris from seeping inside, and causing irreversible scuffs or sharp grazes on the flooring.

Do not drag or push heavy furniture across LVT vinyl flooring as this can inflict deep scrapes which in most cases are difficult to fix.

Disallow indoor games ( virtual and real ) which typically result in high abrasion.

Once the above precautions are established, the chances of damaging LVT based flooring are neutralized to a large extent. However, even the best LVT flooring needs regular cleaning and maintenance.

CLEANING -

If LVT is installed in high human traffic sections, it is a good idea to clean the debris on daily basis. This can be achieved by using a soft broom or vacuum. Avoid brooms that are made from thick, sharp, plastic bristles. Instead, use synthetic fibre based broom stick.

Mopping is yet another ritual which depends on human related activities, especially kids who tend to spill, drop food items. In such a scenario cleaning the floor regularly with soft moist cloth /microfiber mop pad is important. 

Do’s and Don’ts while cleaning LVT waterproof flooring -

Do not use steam mops to clean the floor as it could damage its glossy outer layer.

Do not use acidic cleaners while mopping as it can lead to scars.

Do not use mops soaked in high temperature water / detergent solution.

Do not use unverified detergents.

What you should instead -

Use warm water and neutral pH solvent to clean the best LVT flooring.

The mop should be moist and not soaked.

Dry the surface after mopping to avoid formation of water marks.

MAINTENANCE -

Use wax-free floor polish or brands which clearly state that the same can be used for LVT vinyl flooring. Using untested and cheap polish, wax-based or otherwise can make the floor look uneven in terms of finish. Here are some of the essential steps.

Apply 2 to 3 coats.

Make sure you let the flooring dry completely after each coat.

Excess polish can only damage the flooring, so be conservative.

Conclusion -

Preventing dirt and debris from entering the house through strategic placement of mats and arming the furniture legs with soft rubber caps is half the battle won. Nonetheless, as a property owner with LVT flooring, make sure you do not use strong detergents or mops dipped in hot water. Following the above guidelines can enhance the life of LVT dramatically.

#lvt #lvt flooring

[greethree]

on the grumpy tower

#hi??? i got possessed while drawing this?? #last life smp #rendog #fanart #girl.... hes sulking ok? #square sun gang #scar's pro dirt house #sunrise #or sunset idk #gree's art

[sophie-i-guess13]

Stories To Tell

|Words: 864|

|Characters: Sodapop + Ponyboy Curtis, Dallas Winston|

|Genre: Fluff|

|TW: N/A|

Tag! @mjmacchio1991 @apricot-colored-feathers @pepsi-and-cigarettes @the-kneesbees @ralphmaccchiato 

Warm yellow light is cast against the dry grass when the curtain is pushed aside. It comes down in streaks, like the kind you’d find bleeding in through the clouds on a sunny morning. It obviously isn’t a sunny morning in October of 1964 when the light cuts through the frosty air and shines across the young greaser’s face; cold blue eyes, white hair and all.

The boy watches from the safety of his bedroom, elbows already propped up on his windowsill and green-grey eyes wider than his open mouth. His hand-me-down t-shirt clings to his body, threadbare sleeves almost slipping off his shoulders. They stand there for a while, one boy digging his toes into his carpet while the other grinds his teeth. Then, finally, the boy forces his words into the evening air.

“You alright, Dally?” He asks, voice thick with sleep even if it’s barely past ten o’clock. “Don’t tell me the door’s locked or somethin’, I can get Dad to unlock it for you,” he mumbles and begins to push away from the window. Dally springs forward in an instant, chipped and dirt-stained nails curling around the thin plank of wood that separates the comfortable bedroom from the outside world.

He forces the words over his chapped lips before he can even think of what to say, completely distracted by the sudden twist in his stomach and the heat burning in his veins the closer he comes to the whipped white paint. “Don’t bother, kid,” he hisses, “I-I’m fine. Just lookin’ for your brother.”

Before Ponyboy can even ask which brother Dallas is looking for, he strolls back into the bedroom. He wears faded blue jeans and a plain lop-sided grin, though it only seems to spread when his eyes catch on the face outside his window.

His fists clench on instinct, a pitiful attempt to squash whatever awkward feeling is blossoming in his chest. Sodapop doesn’t seem to notice when he leans over his brother’s shoulder, however. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He teases, giving Ponyboy a quick slap on the shoulder. “That’s what I was tryna do,” he fired back, “then he showed up.”

At that moment, Dallas didn’t care what Ponyboy said about him- no matter how snarky. Sodapop rolled his eyes and shoved his brother away from the window, pulling at his t-shirt until the sleeves didn’t threaten to fall off his shoulders anymore. “I don’t remember sayin’ you could sleep in my room,” he groans sarcastically.

Despite living in Tulsa for some time now, Sodapop’s voice has always held the kind of deep drawl that was almost too recognizable. Same with the way his sleeves bunched around his wrists, the pattern the freckles made on his skin, even the way his hair looked in the late night light. Finally, his voice drops the quiet drawl and turns to a sharp edge. “Just get outta my room, will you? Don’t make me tell Mom and Dad where you got that scar on your hand!”

Ponyboy scampers out of the room no sooner than the words leave his brother’s mouth and Dally is left to face the nerves curling in his stomach like a snake in the grass. Sodapop smiles at him now, taking the place his brother once stood as he leans over the windowsill and lets the wind move through his hair. “It’s good to see you,” he hums casually, “sorry you missed the party.”

It’s a nice night on October 8th of 1964. The birthday party has been all but forgotten as the Curtis house settles down for the night and Dallas Winston stands outside one of their windows, biting back the wolfish smile begging to be set free. “That’s what I’m here for,” he starts. “Figured you’d need somethin’ a little more exciting now that the little kids are asleep.”

Turning sixteen had turned Sodapop into someone different. He didn’t need the back-and-forth, the weighing of pros and cons. The second the idea registered in his mind, he fell hook, line, and sinker. “This is gonna be a fun story to tell my kids,” he chuckles as the house creaks, settling back into place now that it shelters one less person. Stars and dying street lights illuminate Tulsa’s streets as the two boys head towards the north side of town, hearts heavy with adrenaline and something else neither could identify. Word was going around the eastside about a drag race. They said Tim Shepard wasn’t willing to lose, either.

“You’ll have plenty of fun stories, Soda,” Dallas agreed, fists bunched in the shallow pockets of his leather jacket when Sodapop threw an arm around the back of his neck, “just make sure you don’t get caught. Can’t brag to your buddies if your dad kills you for sneakin’ out.”

Even when the excited roar of a crowd and rev of souped-up engines drew nearer, Sodapop never once made a move to pull his arm off Dally's shoulder. He didn’t pull away, either.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow,” Soda grins when Tim’s headlights glow against the cement. “For right now, it’s just you, me, and a drag race. I think that’ll make one helluva story.”

#soapie’s stuff #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #dallas winston #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #dallypop #MOVING.

[baku-writes]

Omgggg I just love the hawks request you did it was amazing and sooo good imma request something similar to it but with DABI/ Touya todoroki can you do where the reader and Touya as children like yk childhood friends both grew up with parents who abused them and one day Touya was about to get beaten badly in training and the reader took it for them ( timeskip when they learnt Touya died they were absolutely sadand almost suicide? And DABI finds her in time and they just talk and confess? <333 :)

AAAAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!! Personally, even though Dabi isn't my fav character I love his backstory. I just find it so interesting.

Touya todoroki x gn!reader (mostly children versions so angst and fluff)

TW: Abuse, fake suicide (?), suicidal thoughts, minor bodily injury (mentions of burnt skin, bruises and blood). ANGST, spoilers (?)

Back from the dead

Summary: you and touya todoroki grew up together and were both victims of brutal parenting. However, when you took the punishment for Touya it was the final straw... he wasn't Touya anymore...

Life was difficult.

It always had been.

Your entire life you were told you would be nothing, your parents beat you into submission until no motivation ever sparked within you other than to be what they wanted. They wanted a hero. The next number one, just like allmight. They didn't want another version of endeavor, but a capable young hero who could fight any villain and take them down with ease.

Your parents weren't pro heroes, both were rejected by UA and didn't pass the hero course for any other school. It crushed them. But also drove them to insanity. Everything they had ever worked for in their childhood come crashing down within a short period of their lives, that is how the both met. However, when they had you they saw a sadistic glimmer of hope. Hope that their 'spawn' could do what they couldn't and hope that their child could live out their dream for them.

And so they would train you. And train you. And train you. Until you couldn't walk, talk and sometimes even eat due to exhaustion. But once they realised they could no longer give you any more training boosts due to their lack of experience, they handed you off to the number 2, endeavour. Even though they despised him, if that is what they had to do to make you strong.... they were going to make you do it.

And there you met Touya. A young boy, the same age as you, with aspirations and dreams of becoming the hero his father wanted him to be. However, like your parents, they taught this motivation through sadistic punishments and abusive training.

It was obvious the kid was worn out. Burn scars scorched his arms and even his face. It confused you, but also made you protective of him. You hated how overworked he was. You hated to see him get hurt. Ofcourse you wouldn't tell anyone this, knowing your sadistic parents they would threaten his life to motivate you.

One day it was the usual training. Your parents dropped you off at the number 2's house, with only a single bottle of water and a small dirt kids towel. Your overgrown and unkept hair was in an uncomfortably tight messy bun and your limbs ached from the previous days grueling training.

The day started off as normal: using your quirk until you couldn't do it anymore or collapse from exhaustion. Your quirk is called manipulation, it allows you to manipulate the shapes of near by non living objects, fir example you could make a smooth rock spiky. However, your quirk took a lot of focus and energy, so far you could only use your quirk on objects as large as a vase, you were only young.

Touya was next to you, hot flames spewing from his hands and arms. Singing his skin and burning the near by area... that was until he noticed his dads near by ornament fall and shatter on the ground.

Was this ornament important to endeavor? No. But would he still be pissed? Yes.

Fear immediately clouded Touya's mind....

"Nonononono" his panicked cries began to fill the room as you ran over to him, his cries would only alert endeavour sooner. Not because endeavour would be worried for him, but because endeavour would be angry at whatever he had done.

"Touya calm down. Here, I'll sweep it u-"

You barely had time to look up when you hear the sound of the door slam and angry heavy footsteps head towards the training room. Oh no. He's heard.

The door slammed open and silence cascaded over the room. Everything went still as time began to slow, the only sound you could hear was your heart thumping against your rib cage. Touya was going to get hurt.... and you hated that.

"Touya..... did you break the ornament?" He was calm at first. Some may see this as a good sign, but you two know better. He was going to explode any minute, he was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow.

"DID YOU BREAK THE FUCKING THING?" His voice was raised, his steps heading towards the two of you.

He raised his hand, ready to hit his son until your voice chimed in. Weak and unconfident you stood in front of your chest friend as you spoke.

"It was me... I broke it."

Silence filled the room. The scowl on his face grew deeper as he grabbed onto your arm with force.

"You know what's going to happen. Don't tell a fucking soul, you hear me?"

.....

After around 10 minutes you left the backroom, beaten and bloodied. Ofcourse, it wasn't to a severe extent, but still enough to hurt and be noticed by any possible strangers.

Touya didn't speak to you for the rest of the day.... and the next day training was cancelled...

Touya was dead.... death by fire. It was suicide. You knew it.

(TIME SKIP, CURRENT TIME)

The fall from the bridge seemed welcoming. You had got no where in life, running away from your parents at the age of 16 you found yourself helpless and homeless years later.

Recently, you discovered everything was a lie... Toiya wasn't dead... well the Touya you knew was. But the body if him was alive, just being controlled by a man who goes by the name "Dabi". You didn't want to accept that ot was your friend, you didn't want to accept the fact that you still liked him. He was a murderer... you should hate him. But what you hated even more was how you pitied endeavour, the abuser who tortured you two and lead his own son to 'suicide'. He had changed, but you will never forgive him.

The hopelessness and confusion in your life was too much. You let the cool air whip against your face for the final few minutes, you might as well enjoy the last moments in your life. Ironically, it was peaceful, you never really got peace before. And it had to be your final moments that ot decided to make an appearance.

Now was the time. The time to end this miserable life. The time to end the memories and pain that tormented you for years. You would never have to get hurt again, the pain will just stop and never appear. No one will miss you, your friend is gone and your family was never there. Tears began to pour down your face as you realised your life was nothing but a misery... you never even lived. You just survived...

You took a step closer to the ledge.

Until you felt a harsh tug pull you back and force you onto the concrete floor.

"OW WHAT THE HELL?!"

Your head shot up to glare at who ever pulled you down to the ground. But your blood ran cold as a white haired 5'9 figure covered in burn scars stood in front of you...

"D-dabi."

Shock overwhelmed your system, the tears ran down your face faster as you come face to face with your 'dead' best friend. The boy who abandoned you all those years ago..... the man who you never got over...

"Come on now, you know that's not my name." His smile creased his face and wrinkled his scars a little and his held out his hand to you. Warily, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up. Should you trust him? He was a murderer.... but he was your friend.....

"Long time no see, huh?" He chuckled a little bit. Was this a fucking normal meeting for him. Is he making a guxking joke out of this.... after he abandoned you all those years ago, just to become some low life thug who murders people. INNOCENT PEOPLE.

"What the fuck? Is this funny to you? You think this is funny? Laughing when you left me all those years ago. Laughing when you become this.... a- a... A monster, a freak who murderers out of revenge? Fuck you."

Anger shot through you. You don't care if this gets you killed, either he will do it or you'll do it yourself. He was a monster. A killer. Everything you ever despised in one person. A person you used to love turned into a revenge crazed maniac who kills the innocent.

Surprise flooded his features as you rammed a finger into his chest.

"YOU KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE. YOU HAVE PROBABLY KILLED FUCKING CHILDREN! Who the hell do you think you are coming to see me after what, 5 to 10 years? FUCK I don't even remember anymore because I don't see the point in keeping track of the days I had to live thinking you died! You're a monster...."

Your figure began to crumple, your tough exterior caving in as your pent up emotions broke free from their cage. You collapsed into his arms as he ran a soothing hand down your back. You were so confused.... you were angry yet happy. Sad at what he had become but proud of his strength to fight back...

"Why did you leave me Touya? I c-could of saved you..."

The cool breeze blew against the two of you as Touya continued running soothing strokes down your back. Suprisingly, he was guilty. But he wasn't here to see you upset. He was here to get you, save you, help you. He was here to take you to the LOV, his new family.

"I know I left, but I'm here now. I'm taking you to the League, but I promise they won't hurt you. They are family, you want to change the world right? Fix society? That's our goal too. We have all been hurt one way or another.... but please. Come with me. Let me make up for the time we have missed out on so far, let me be the man you need."

You looked up at him, your eyes sore from crying and nose running. Slowly, you nodded. His warm embrace was welcoming, the first hug you have had in at least 5 years.

"Okay...... but you have to take ms out on a date first." A small goggle escaped your lips as you expected a disgusted face to scrunch his features.

But instead...

"Sure, but we're heading over to the LOV hide out right now sweetheart."

Surprise filled your features as be smiled again, his smile just like his old self.

....

Maybe the new Touya wasn't that bad... maybe the old Touya never left...

-----------------

Never wrote for Dabi before so I hope this is good enough!!! Sorry if it took a while to write, I've had a few mental health things pop up within the last 2 days but I'm going to be okay <33. Let me know if this is what you wanted 💞💞

#bnha #bnha manga #mha #my hero academia imagines #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #alpha!bakugou #dabi x you #yagami yato bakugo #dabi x reader #dabi x gender neutral reader #dabi #dabi smut #dabi x reader smut #touya x reader #dabi angst #dabi and shoto #todoroki family #enji todoroki #mha todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #bnha todoroki #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader smut

[linphd]

Their soulmate is a hero | Headcanons

gender neutral

-> Soulmate AU where the villains find out their S/O is a hero and/or a student at U.A.

-> Tomura Shigaraki, Jin Bubaigawara, Kai Chisaki.

-> warning : with that theme, it might turn angsty for you 💀

Tomura Shigaraki

He met you during the USJ attack. You were a third year at U.A, but you were called to rescue 1A students with some teachers, since your quirk was really helpful to protect many people at the same time. Once Shigaraki’s eyes met yours, he realized you were his soulmate, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

Of course, you had noticed something was different. But you thought your soulmate was one of the 1A students, and really not the chief of the League of Villains, who had tried to kill your classmates a few days prior. This was a disadvantage of the soulmate system ; when they were many many people, you often couldn’t tell exactly which one was your soulmate.

Meanwhile, he knew you were his soulmate, because it changed when he tried to attack you -that was actually the reason why he spared you in the first place. That’s why his obsession over Izuku kind of faded and he developed an obsession over you instead.

He had to know everything about you. He loved you already. That’s why when he went to the mall to find Izuku and threaten him, he actually got caught into spying on you, making him almost forget about the boy. That’s how he found out what kind of clothes you would wear, and he listened to your conversations.

Once he gathered enough information to learn how to tame his quirk, he attacked U.A once again. But this time, his target was you and only you, ending up in your kidnapping. Of course you were terrified, but you knew your teachers would save you eventually.

‘’I got you some outfits, they’ll surely fit. Toga stole your blood last time so she could turn into you and try on the clothes.’’ He started. ‘’For now you’re handcuffed, but maybe if you behave and I fully trust you, I’ll let you walk around in the hideout.’’ He said, a creepy smile on his face -it didn’t look forced, though.

He would often give you food and let you go to the bathroom -still accompanying you so he could make sure you wouldn’t escape. However, everytime you would turn down his affection or remain silent after a question, he would throw a tantrum like a maniac and send another member to check on you.

‘’I don’t want to hurt you, cause I know how soulmates work. But if you don’t get cooperative and refuse to love me, maybe I’ll have to force you a bit.’’ He once said. He truly loved you. He loved you enough for you both... Maybe the teachers will find you someday.

Twice | Jin Bubaigawara

He actually met you when he attacked U.A. You were one of the pros sent to help and protect the kids and teachers, and he bumped into you on this day. Luckily, you didn’t notice the changes much since you were focusing on saving everyone.

Twice had the chance to be masked when he was a villain, so he wouldn’t be recognizable without his costume, and he also didn’t use his real name. That’s why when he met you at a café, claiming you both had crossed ways a few days prior at the mall, you didn’t question it.

You could tell he really was your soulmate, and you would have never thought you would actually be destined to end up with a villain. He looked nervous and had a huge scar on his face, but he was really attractive to you, and seemed really nice. He told you about his smoking bad habit, but you didn’t really care.

Since that day, you kept contact and went on several dates. He even showed you the apartment he was ashamed of, and told you his quirk was voices in his head -that’s why he was so nervous all the time. Of course, you didn’t doubt his words. He genuinely loved you. And that is how you started dating.

He never told you about his real quirk and that he was the infamous Twice, the cloning villain from the League of Villains. Why would he ? It would ruin everything... He enjoyed going to your house and feel your hands going through his hair, without being scared of the consequences.

Sometimes, he felt bad about lying to you. But if you knew, you would leave him. And if you wouldn’t, you would get in trouble, despite it not being your fault ; and he really didn’t want anything bad to happen to you, even less if he was the source of trouble.

However, one day, Shigaraki told the League they would attack a group of heroes meeting at the mountains -you were one of those heroes. That’s when Dabi noticed something was odd about Twice, and even if he was able to keep his real identity a secret when he was with you -maybe because of how calm you would make him feel- he couldn’t keep the fact you were his soulmate under pressure anymore.

Dabi didn’t say anything. He didn’t even tell another villain. But he noticed that when he tried to attack you with his flames, a clone of Twice had taken your place. Also the fact that he rushed to push you, acting like it was a front attack, when the brunette tried to burn you a second time. But he won’t say anything. Not for now.

Overhaul | Kai Chisaki

Actually, he met you by bumping into you when you were still a student at U.A. You were in your last year so you could patrol on your own, and he wasn’t a big villain yet. You didn’t notice he was actually your soulmate since you were focusing. But oh boy, did he notice.

‘’Hero, a filthy little hero’’ he kept repeating to himself since that day. Even though he tried to bump into you again some time, he never did. Actually, once he became more powerful in the yakuzas, he started to send some minions to find you.

After a year, you had started working at the agency you had been an intern several times at. Meanwhile, he knew where you lived, what exactly your quirk was, the places you would go to often, and even who your closest friends were.

He knew he was going to get in trouble if he allied with the League. He knew if the League was involved, then U.A would be. Thus, some pros would, and maybe you would be one of those pros. That’s why Kai often couldn’t sleep at night and was even angrier than usual.

‘’It’s else that, else fighting you, with a chance that I might not survive.’’ He would say, in his way to your apartment complex with some of his minions. Usually, they would go alone. But it was way too important for Kai to send them on their own. He would have even gone alone if he wasn’t disgusted by touching the dirt you lived in.

He didn’t plan your kidnapping to be that easy, but it was. And even if your quirk was powerful, Kai had studied you enough to know how to tame it -mostly if you were taken by surprise, else his non-desire to fight you from front.

Your eyes widened when you woke up and realized he was your soulmate. Seeing you panicked, Kai decided to tell you his story to calm you down, and so you could get to know him. He thought it would be fair for you to know, since he pretty knew everything about you.

‘’I’m so sorry it has to be that way, my dear. But I have to purify humanity from its sickness. Maybe in another life where you’ll be quirkless, we’ll get to be together.’’ he said, before disintegrating you. His minions then burnt your corpse, to leave no trace of your existence and death. And even if Kai never mentioned you after that, he was always saddened by the fact he could never live with his soulmate.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #headcanons #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #jin bubaigawara #bubaigawara jin #twice #twice x reader #jin bubaigawara x reader #bubaigawara jin x reader #overhaul #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #kai x reader #chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #kai chisaki x reader #overhaul x reader

[humanitysburrito]

𖥸 - delirium

𑁤 SUMMARY; you and dabi reminisce on your friendship while you bleed out in his arms ᨟ PAIRING; f!reader x dabi ᨟ WARNINGS; 18+! smut, light bondage, angst, death, blood and wounds, language, outta char dabi? lol idc, dabi is toya todoroki ᨟ WC; 5k

authors note; this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written. I hope I wrote the whole y/n thing correctly. I debated on how to format the memories and reader quirk, and figured this looked and felt best. This originally was gonna be nothing but smut, but I do love me some sads. Comments are hella appreciated! Practice makes perfect and I will trust the process! (i put together the gif so you can pair it with the end uWu)

Wrong place, wrong time. There simply was no other way to put it. Seeking out Dabi while he was working had always been a dangerous game to play, but neither of you took the time to consider the possibility of friendly fire being your checkmate.

You found yourself stumbling through a vacant alleyway, praying to a higher power - if it existed - that Dabi was able to hear your pleas through the thick of the chaos. Your vision fuzzed into white cotton, prompting you to squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to clear the fog.

When you opened your eyes again, you threw your arms out towards your scarred lover, who was desperately sprinting towards you.

This was the first moment the word ‘love’ ever crossed your mind. The feelings you’ve had for Dabi over the past few years, especially in the last couple of months, have been ambivalent, to say the least. But right now, all you knew was him. All you could see was him. The nearly angelic image of his blue flames fanning out behind him - his tattered coat swaying in the wind. His body language was your gospel, and you were his resolve. 

Your best friend.

Damn, you thought. 

“Shit! Dabi..” Your fading voice trailed off into a light whisper as your ankles cracked underneath your weight. “I’m sorry.”

You could do nothing but apply pressure around the gaping, shredded hole that tore clear through your stomach. A dumpster broke your fall, and your body slid down to rest in a pool of your own blood.

Your quirk did little to restrain the Nomu that had charged in your direction just minutes earlier. Instead, it absorbed your power and released it instantaneously - piercing it right through you.

Blood oozed from your wound as you erupted into a fit of strained laughter. 

Oh, how stupid must I look?

“I’m going out because of my own quirk! How anticlimactic!” Your words came out in a pitiful squeak absolutely littered with sarcasm as the remaining adrenaline in your body faded away.

What felt like a lifetime for you were mere seconds for Dabi as he reached for you, tripping over his feet before sitting down to pull your back flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. One of his palms rested along the side of your neck while the other cupped the side of your face in a vice grip.

“Shut up, y/n. You’re gonna be fine, yeah? Just breathe, doll.”

His heart was hammering wildly through his system despite his attempts to calm down and cool his body off. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, gently rubbing circles on the back your scalp - his first instinct to do whatever he could to make you comfortable. 

“Don’t put me in limbo,” you said through gritted teeth as blood seeped out of your mouth. Dabi brought his legs around to hook over yours - similar to the way you two just started to cuddle.  “We both know how this is going to end.”

And the both of you did. You’d be stupid not to, and Dabi knew that. He would enjoy this much more if you were a pro hero he could sadistically taunt as your life swayed in the balance. But you weren’t. 

It would be easier if you were a comrade who unfortunately took a hit, who would go down forgotten and quickly replaced among the ranks. But you weren’t. 

Right now, he wished you were anyone else. 

“Quit talking like you’re gonna die, y/n!” He yelled into your skin as he erupted into a vicious cycle of shakes.

How the fuck did it come to this, what the fuck! His turquoise eyes strained forward, pulsing, and burning due to the tears he was unable to produce.

Dabi’s voice was laced with sorrow and regret. You had only heard it one other time, and the realization was the tipping point for you to finally cry. Salty water poured down your face as your mind began to cycle through the memories you’ve made with him.

Sweat pooled on your forehead as you drew closer to the man that was hunched over on the curb of your dirt driveway.

Through the darkness, you could see that he was covered in blood - all the way down his face and chest. Shiny, sharp pieces of metal sticking out from his skin glistened under the moonlight, and although you were still at least twelve feet away, the heat radiating off of him was enough to instantly make your clothes stick to your flesh.

As quiet as you tried to be with your movements, you were careless enough to kick some rocks up under your feet, earning you an icy glare from the man before you.

With one quick movement of his hand, ethereal blue flames roared from his palm in your direction but quickly dissipated into steam as he groaned into a state of incoherence and irrationality - the effects of your quirk.

You rose your hand, beckoning rusty chains to come forth from the earth and bind around him. He looked at you through the bloody strands of his raven hair - his turquoise eyes meeting your (e/c) irises that matched the billowing smoke coming from your quirk. The image in his eyes caused your heart to race. Anger and sorrow were swirling into your soul as he stared at you, but it was overpowered by a desperate plea for help as his eyes became lidded.

“Hell, dollface, you got a second?”

These were the first words Dabi ever spoke to you.

“You should have left me alone, y/n!” Dabi sobbed, leaving light kisses and nips along your ear, gently urging you to keep talking - about anything and everything.

You struggled against him to find a more comfortable position in his arms, shooting a hand up into his scarred flesh. He silently berated himself for letting you help him as much as you did. 

Maybe then, he could have lived in a world blissfully unaware of your existence.

He choked on his tongue, his body falling limp against the ground as his aura erupted in a swelling mass of dust as your chains dissolved into the gravel. He passed out - falling face-first into the dirt.

You towered over his unconscious body and reached down, hooking your arms underneath his as you dragged him up your driveway towards your house, keeping him delirious with your quirk just in case he woke up. You brought forth more chains to keep him restrained in the bathroom connected to your garage. The sound of the lights buzzing on was enough to wake him up - snapping his head upright. 

You had no choice but to let up on the delirium in an attempt to speak to him. As you knelt down to be level headed, his eyes never stopped following you. “Who are you?”

“You’re the one who has me chained up like a dog! Who the fuck are you?” His voice was strained and horse, exhaustion overpowering his vocal cords.

You raised your (h/c) eyebrows at his question, licking your teeth behind your lips, shaking your head as you stood up and pushed the bathroom door wide open. There was a clear shot through the garage towards the street you just plucked him off of. 

“I’ll let you go then. You can make a run from here.” You calmly said, uninterested at his display of aggression. “If you try anything stupid, I’ll gladly tie you right back up and keep you here.” You looked down at him, your (h/c), (h/type) falling from behind your ear to the side of your face. “But let’s not forget who asked for a second of my time, dollface.”

“I forgot about that,” Dabi chuckled behind you. “Always using my own words against me.” A warm shiver trickled up your body as his breath steadied in your ear. “You know, I was just going to use you for some free food and a piece of ass before I left?”

You whispered, panting for air as a smirk painted your lips. “Did you get more than you bargained for?”

Dabi didn’t respond to you. He only squeezed your face closer into his chest as you felt his body jitter around you.

“So, what’s your name?”

There was a brief moment of silence before he answered your question.

He finally responded when you reached up to lightly dapple the blood away from under his scarred eyes.

“Dabi.”

“Hello, Dabi. My name is y/n. Do you make it a habit of passing out in people's yards?”

“Only the yards of pretty dolls like you.” Even through the blood and dirt and the satire in his voice - you notice the smirk on his face brighter than any other smile you had ever seen before.

You scoffed, blinking your thoughts away. “I’m sure you do, dollface.” His pride took a small hit at your attempts to use his words against him. Before he could respond, you pushed his head back into the bathtub and doused his hair in ice-cold water with your shower head.

“Oh, baby, how’d you know?” He managed to whisper in a moan, his hands clutching at his sides.

You couldn’t deny that this was the most exciting thing to happen to you in quite a while. You made your living by side hustling for heroes and villains - you didn’t care the cause as long as there was something beneficial for you in the long run. This was a wanted, and much-needed change of activity for you - the possible danger in it giving you a euphoric feeling your quirk never could.

“All jokes aside, Dabi, I’m glad I met you. Just being your friend has given me the best few years of my life. My only regret-,” you paused in a scream, the soft motions in his hands begging you to stop talking and save it for later, “-is that it took me this long to realize,” you whispered into the air, gritting your teeth and turning around against him the best you could to look at him. “I love you, you know.” Dabi froze, his arms becoming limp around you as he cradled your body.

His mind raced with every memory he’s ever had of the way you looked at him. The way you touched him, the way you took care of him. The way your fingertips gently worked their magic, repairing his weak constitution when he needed it the most.

You had been friends for a few years, and your relationship took its sweet fucking time to grow. His occasional visits for first aid eventually led to him crashing on your couch, to moving in as your elusive ‘never-home’ roommate. He enjoyed being around you because you weren’t a complete nuisance, and you were someone who chose to stay oblivious of his criminal activities. 

The day he found out about your own indictments was when Tomura Shigaraki tried to recruit you one day while he was sipping whiskey at the bar.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come.” The sound of your sneering voice made his ears perk up, and he shot around his bar seat to lock eyes with you.

Even though you declined Tomura’s offer, you came with your own contribution of intel that had a price. That night, you and Dabi stayed up drinking, chain-smoking, and sharing your thoughts and feelings about Stain’s ideology and the hypocrisy of pro-heroes.

Dabi wasn’t sure when he started to develop strange feelings for you. The three years of your friendship had turned into an intense myriad of passionate, sexual frustration that neither of you wanted to cave on. All he knew is that it was a slow, agonizing burn that eventually reached its termination. 

If only you two hadn’t taken so long. If only it hadn’t been just last night.

You both somehow arrived home unscathed during a prep mission you decided to join him on because it had been weeks since you last saw each other. It ended with a massive rush of adrenaline coursing through your bodies - the teasing of who was actually the sidekick in the rare villainous scenarios you involved yourself in in flew out the window, and all you could see were equals as you stared into each other's eyes.

“If we do this, I might not be able to stop.” Dabi’s forehead was pressed against yours, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to your own. His words were coated in a sugary lacquer that rolled off his tongue, seemingly into your own mouth. Tears pooled in the corners of you (e/c) eyes - your mind hazy in a rush of anticipation and fear.

At this moment, you two felt like entirely different people - the exhilaration of a strange encounter filling your bodies with lust and excitement. 

You needed him.

He needed you.

Dabi’s hand came around the back of your head and grasped at your hair, finally pushing your lips together for the first time in a cry of passion. Serotonin flooded his brain, his eyes opening halfway at the feeling of being absolutely wasted against your lips.

His mouth was warm - conflicting with his cold personality, but he tasted like cigarettes and cheap-ass whiskey - oh, my, you needed more.

The two of you were completely lost. Unaware of what the next step was as you kissed each other like a couple of love-struck teenagers for what felt like a lifetime.

His other hand eventually snaked up your side and underneath your shirt before palming his hand against the small of your back and pushing your body against him. Your hands reached to cup his face, your tongues dancing in a messy rhythm. You pulled away, saliva stringing and popping against his bottom lip. Dabi softly tilted you backward to rest your body on your couch as he climbed on top of you, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck while the cold steel on his face did little to chill the heat rising in your body.

“Da-bi,” your breath hitched in a moan as he nipped at the skin on your throat, your hands fisting his hair in frustration.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say my name like that, doll.” Dabi purred along your throat. “I’m going to make you say it over and over and over again.” His body slithered up to give you one last kiss before he sat up and removed his white shirt, tossing it over the side of the couch. 

Your hands trailed along his abdomen, relishing in the feeling of his defined muscles and the cold bars on his nipples. He felt just as you thought he would, and the smell of charcoal and cologne brought you to a drunk reality - an indicator that you were not dreaming. 

Your hands messily tried to undo the buckle on his belt, but he slapped them away. He reached down to kiss you again, his hands grabbing at your shirt and pulling it over your head.

Dabi looked down, seeing your nipples hardening underneath your bra. He bowed his head, struggling to keep his balance as a strange wave of guilt rushed through him. There was only one thing about you that he absolutely couldn’t stand - that you could make him feel things he’s never felt before.

It had taken three years to get to this point. What the fuck were you doing? The way you looked splayed out underneath him was nearly a forbidden sight. 

“Y/n..” His words were lost as his eyes trailed along with your frame - ravenous hunger evident in his glassy orbs.

“No take backs. I have you right where I want you, so let’s finish what we started.” You reached up and pushed him down against you, capturing his lips in another heated kiss, grinding your hips against the twitching bulge in his pants. He felt you smile along his lips, reassuring the nervousness quelling inside his body.

Within seconds he had picked you up and sat down so you could straddle him. His hands caressed your waist and trickled all the way up to your bra that he quickly disposed of. His pierced tongue swirled around your swollen nipples, nibbling and sucking each one as he pushed your hips down harder, encouraging you to grind a little faster. 

Your breath became ragged at the friction between your legs - your pussy practically gushing through your clothes and onto his pants. He pushed you away, leaving one hand on your side while the other unzipped your pants and slid a palm inside to rub along your clothed cunt. Your body shuddered as you threw your head back, leaning backwards to continue to grind as he stroked you teasingly. When he could feel your clit begin to swell and bulge out from your lips, he took the opportunity to sneak two fingers past your underwear and push inside you to beckon you towards him at high speed. 

The sounds of your wet sex drenching his skin were almost too erotic for him to handle, and he ripped his hand out to bring it up to your face.

“Lick them clean.”

You did as you were told, taking each one of his digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue in a euphoric trance as you tried to replace what was missing between your legs with your own hand. Dabi snatched your wrist and held it against your thigh. “You don’t touch yourself unless I say so, dollface.”

“Yes, Dabi.” You replied, struggling to catch your breath. Dabi’s display of aggression and dominance was something you only dreamed of, and you needed more.

“Now, be a good girl and get on your knees for me?” The way he said it almost made you pass the fuck out - the demanding yet sensitive tone playing with your ears. It was not a question.

Once again, you followed instructions and sat on the floor. You spread his legs and positioned yourself as you unbuttoned his pants, smiling at his struggling erection, trying to spring free. 

A gasp escaped from above you as you pulled his cock out, your hand wrapping perfectly around him. He watched you lick your lips with half-lidded eyes and instantly threw his head back at the feeling of your tongue tracing his head, down the underside of his shaft before licking back up and taking him into the back of your throat. He balled his fists into your soft, shiny (h/c) hair at the feeling and pumped ever so slightly to the rhythm you were still trying to find.

“Fuck, y/n.” The affirmation made you suck him deeper into your throat. Your watery eyes and gagging sounds encouraged him to force your nose down into his stubble as he set the pace and fucked into your mouth.

A feeling of white, hot fuzz started to form in his toes and up to his legs at the sight before him, causing him to rip you away from his cock with a ‘pop.’ “Look at you, dollface,” he cooed, smearing your saliva down your chin as you coughed and struggled to catch your breath. “Is this what you think about at night, hmm? Sucking my dick until you can’t breathe?” He teased, pushing his thumb between your lips to hook around your bottom teeth and pull you up with his index finger tightly fastened underneath your chin.

“Among other things,” you whispered before pulling him into another fiery kiss. His hands squeezed your waist, drawing your jeans down to leave you in nothing but your panties.

“Oh, well, if that’s the case, show me what comes next, babydoll,” Dabi growled as he picked you up and carried you off into your bedroom. He threw you on the bed and ripped off the useless, drenched fabric in between your legs.

The gravity of your situation set in. You were now completely naked in front of your best friend, for the very first time. And you sucked his dick. Oh, my god, I sucked his dick! Your face turned bright red in an embarrassing blush, your arms and legs balling up in an attempt to cover yourself. 

“Y/n,” Dabi gently stopped you by crawling on top of you and cupping your face in his hands. “Don’t be shy. You have no idea how beautiful I find you, so let me show you, yeah?” He kissed you, this time it lasted longer than any. It felt different. Your heart strummed with a barrage of hot butterflies as his tongue ran across your teeth and pulled away to slither his body down to your dripping wet core.

“Oh, baby, look at this pretty little pussy.” The sight of your dripping wet, swollen cunt made Dabi want to completely ravage you right then and there. He could see you pulsating with need - wetness pouring down your legs. “You want me to do something about this, doll?”

All you could manage to do was moan in agreement as you lifted your head to give him permission to do anything he desired.

Dabi kissed your hips, down your thighs, so very close to giving you what you wanted. Your spine arched, perfectly, he thought.

He took your clit in-between two fingers, squeezing the bundle of nerves before giving you a quick lap with the tip of his tongue. The sound that escaped your lips was honest and excited him to the point of insanity. After a few seconds he lapped you again, using his tongue to toy with your folds before closing his lips around to suck on your engorged clit. You cried out, writhing in a fit of euphoria.

“Dabi! Oh - fuck, right there!” Dabi switched motions and took your clit into his mouth, sucking on it before using the tip of his tongue to relentlessly nick your swollen bud as it pressurized in his mouth. You were so wet that the entire bottom of his face was soaked, dripping down his chin and neck.

“I could devour you all night long, dollface, look at me.” Dabi wrapped his arm around your waist to prevent you from grinding your pussy in his mouth, pushing your body down into the bed. The minute you made eye contact with him, your orgasm skipped a few steps in the building process.

“You lick my pussy so fucking good - Dabi!” He raised his eyebrows at your reaction, and before you could finish in more ways than one, he pulled away, knocking the wind right out of your body while a cold chill crept up your spine.

“You’re gonna what?” Dabi teased as he rid himself of the rest of his clothes and positioned himself in between your legs, using the head of his cock to toy with the wet folds of your pussy before tapping your throbbing clit. You closed your eyes and tensed up, focusing because the rhythm was totally just enough to-

He pulled away, sitting back in satisfaction. You were speechless, your legs trembling in frustration. “I’ll ask you this again, y/n. What comes next?”

You were a shuddering, whimpering, melting mess at his words. The tone of Dabi’s voice was so erotic to your ears - and the way he spoke to you, so demanding, so sexy, you thought, was a way no one had ever spoken to you before. And you wanted more. You needed more.

“Mm,” You moaned, feeling like you were losing yourself to a darkness, and you were going to let it happen. “Touch me - make me yours. Fuck me, kiss me, just don’t stop, please!” He could tell you couldn’t take it anymore but something inside of him wanted to make this so much worse for you, to drag it out as long as possible.

You threw your head back, losing your reflexes to resist touching yourself.

Dabi snickered, leaning down to purr in your ear, pinning your hands above your head. “Be a good doll and beg for it, then.”

His words caused your lascivious desire to take over, and he was pushed back against your headboard, his arms and legs wrapped in the chains of your quirk. The chains snaked around the supports of your bed, leaving his cock wide open to do as you pleased. The delirium accompanied filled Dabi’s head with ecstasy, leaving him fully vulnerable to your advances. You climbed on top of him and sank your pussy down agonizingly slow to get used to his size. He threw his head back, moaning in a way that sent jolts straight to your sopping wet sex. With a wave of your hand, you banished the chains, looking at Dabi, who was clear-minded and perplexed. 

“Wow.” Was all he could say as he gripped your hips and rammed up into you. “You wanna tie me up, is that it?” He said through gritted teeth as he kept you still, vigorously pumping into you. “You wanna have it your way, baby? You want me to shut up so you can fuck me like you want it done? Is this how you want it? Ugh, fuck!” Your skin turned red as his cock continued to massage your velvet lining, your liquid splashing with every thrust.

Your arms rose up and twined in your hair, your breasts bouncing in just the right way to drive him absolutely crazy. The room was filled with the wet noises of this long awaited night - the moans coming from both of you fulfilling the carnal desires deep within.

“Dabi, please let me come!”

He sat up, snaking an arm around your waist to throw you backwards. You locked eyes, both of you struggling to breathe, heaving for dear life. “You feel so good, doll, you like that cock, yeah?” 

Dabi sat up on his knees, pulling your waist off of the bed so you were flush against him - his cock bottoming out as far as it could go. He used one hand under your back to keep you raised, and his other one to push your chest into the mattress.

He leaned over you for a brief moment to collide in a kiss - the best one of his life. With you. Only you.

You cried out as he fucked you and gave you everything you needed - everything he could think of giving you. Your hands trailed along his chest to keep him against you, wrapping your arms around his scarred neck to beg for more.

Dabi growled at the sensation rising in his body and ripped away from you, using both hands on your hips to viciously fuck into you - giving you pure, relentless, unadulterated ecstasy. 

“Come all over my cock, dollface, do it! You know you want to.” Dabi brought his thumb to your clit, softly rubbing in wide, fast circles. The stimulation inside was matching perfectly with what he was offering your clit, filling your body with something deep and intense. 

Dabi’s eyes widened at the feeling of constant streams of wetness, coating his cock and running down his legs. He smirked. “That’s it, y/n, you have permission.” Dabi, nearing his own release, started to shake and bite his lip. “You’re making such a fucking mess!” He growled and threw his head backward, his vision becoming hazy as he rolled his head on his shoulders.

“Da-bi, Dabi!” You screamed out in a lustful moan that was like candy to his ears.

“Yes, that’s it, say my fucking name!”

“I’m gonna cum-ah! Dabi!”

The sight before him was absolutely gorgeous - you - body flushed, drenched in sweat, writhing in rapture as your body exploded into a blended orgasm, your squirting pussy gripping him as you tried to milk him of his own release. But he was so focused on you that he delayed his own orgasm until you were at your tail end. Your body shuddered as he came inside of you, squeaking at the feeling of your pussy being filled with his warmth.

“Y/n,” Dabi moaned, leaning down to pull you in a warm embrace. Your fingers ran through his hair as he salted your neck and cheek with wet kisses and whispers of praise in your ear. “I could get used to this,” he softly growled into your ear, laying on his side to spoon you into him.

The lust and euphoria began to fade, and you two were left to cope with the left over feelings of what transpired. You rolled over, Dabi softly brushing the hair out of your face. This soft side of him was something you never thought he had in him and you wanted to cherish every second of it - not ruin it with a slew of unspoken questions and feelings. Instead, the two of you softly, and passionately kissed yourselves into an accidental sleep.

Both of you wished that you had stayed home to live another night like it. To feel your body cradled close to him - for both of you to experience more of what you had been putting off for so long.

“Keep going, y/n.” He urged you when you hadn’t said anything else, squeezing your shoulder with his arm. 

But you were unable to speak anymore. The only sounds escaping were cracked whimpers.

He reached his head down in front of your face, a soft smile forming in the corner of your lips as your beautiful life left your eyes - your arms dropping to your sides as he gave you his final kiss. “I love you, doll.”

Those were the last words Dabi said to you.

He picked your body up and ran towards the little secluded place in the woods that he had learned to call home, and he filled the gap of your conversation with dozens of memories as if you were merely asleep in his arms. When he couldn’t physically go any further, he laid your body on the ground, and set every tree in sight ablaze before getting back to his task at hand.

He had to push you into the back of his mind along with the people he chose to forget about. With you, he had no choice but to forget. Another page torn from the story he was living. He put the walls he let you tear down back up, this time, forever.

Ultimately, he would never forget you. You gave him the first happy experience he’ll ever have, and with every move he continues to make, you will always play a part in them. No matter how hard he tries to forget.

#dabi x reader #dabi fluff #dabi x reader fluff #dabi smut #dabi x reader smut #dabi x you #dabi angst #fem!reader x dabi #dabi x fem!reader #dabi x y/n #mha smut #mha angst #toya todoroki #todoroki toya #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #toya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x reader #am i doing tags right lol #des writes #humanitysburrito #reader x dabi #and here we go!! #nervous squeal #dabi #bnha angst #bnha x reader #bnha smut #dabi x yn #yn x dabi

[puckrph]

‘TAKE THIS TO YOUR GRAVE’ STARTERS

taken from fall out boy’s 2003 album. feel free to change pronouns, etc.!

TELL THAT MICK HE JUST MADE MY LIST OF THINGS TO DO TODAY

‘ light that smoke for giving up on me, and another one just ‘cause they’ll kill you sooner than my expectations. ’ ‘ i could have died with you. ’ ‘ i hope you choke on those words, that kiss, that bottle. ’ ‘ i said i loved you, but i lied. ’ ‘ when you catch fire, i wouldn’t piss to put you out. ’ ‘ stop burning bridges. ’ ‘ stop burning bridges and drive off of them so i can forget about you. ’ ‘ bury me in memory. ’ ‘ his smile’s your rope, so wrap it tight around your throat. ’ ‘ breaking hearts has never looked so cool as when you wrap your car around a tree: your makeup looks so great next to his teeth. ’ ‘ bury me in memory around your throat. ’

DEAD ON ARRIVAL

‘ i hope this is the last time. ’ ‘ i’d never say no to you. ’ ‘ there’s no way to talk to you. ’ ‘ a rivalry goes so deep between me and this loss of sleep over you. ’ ‘ this is side one; flip me over. ’ ‘ the songs you grow to like never stick at first. ’ ‘ i’m writing you a chorus. ’

GRAND THEFT AUTUMN / WHERE IS YOUR BOY

‘ where is your boy tonight? ’ ‘ i hope he’s a gentleman. ’ ‘ maybe he won’t find out what i know. ’ ‘ you were the last good thing about this part of town. ’ ‘ i’m willing to take my chances. ’ ‘ you need him. i could be him. ’ ‘ i could be an accident, but i’m still trying, and that’s more than i can say for him. ’ someday i’ll appreciate in value. ’ ‘ i’m sporting my brand new fashion of waking up with pants on at four in the afternoon. ’ ‘ he won’t find out. ’

SATURDAY

‘ i’m good to go. ’ ‘ i’m going nowhere fast. ’ ‘ i’m going nowhere fast, but it could be worse: i could be taking you there with me. ’ ‘ it looks like i’m still on my own. ’ ‘ i’m good to go for something golden. ’ ‘ the motions i’ve been going through have failed. ’ ‘ i’m coasting on potential toward a wall at a hundred miles an hour. ’ ‘ when i say “two more weeks,” my foot is in the door. ’ ‘ i read about the afterlife, but i never really lived. ’

HOMESICK AT SPACE CAMP

‘ i’m grounding all my dreams. ’ ‘ tonight, the headphones will deliver you the words that i can’t say ’ ‘ tonight is all about “we miss you” ’ ‘ i can’t forget your style or your cynicism. ’ ‘ it was like you were the first to listen. ’ ‘ my smile’s an open wound without you. ’ ‘ new friends are golden. ’

SENDING POSTCARDS FROM A PLANE CRASH (WISH YOU WERE HERE)

‘ i am such a sucker. ’ ‘ i’m always the last to know. ’ ‘ my insides are copper; i’d kill to make them gold. ’ ‘ make my bed the grave, and shovel dirt onto my sheets. ’ ‘ you can thank your lucky stars that everything i wish for will never come true. ’ ‘ when you go, i will forget everything about you ’ ‘ i’ve seen sinking ships go down with more grace than you. ’ ‘ fake it like you matter. that’s a lie we can both keep. ’

CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO

‘ my heart is on my sleeve. i wear it like a bruise or black eye. ’ ‘ i believed every single lie you said. ’ ‘ every pane of glass that your pebbles tap negates the pains i went through to avoid you. ’ ‘ every single pat on the shoulder for attention fails to mention that i still hate you. ’ ‘ i should be home. ’ ‘ the colors of the street signs remind me of the pickup truck out in front of your neighbor’s house. ’ ‘ boys like you are overrated. ’ ‘ save your breath. ’ ‘ loaded words and loaded friends are loaded guns to our heads. ’ ‘ you want apologies? you might hold your breath until your breathing stops forever. ’ ‘ the only thing you’ll get is this curse on your lips: i hope they taste of me forever. ’ ‘ with every breath, i wish your body will be broken. ’

THE PROS AND CONS OF BREATHING

‘ bury me standing under your window with this cinder block in hand, because no one will ever feel like this again. ’ ‘ if i could move, i’m sure it would only be to crawl back to you. ’ ‘ i want to hate you half as much as i hate myself. ’ ‘ i could crush you with my voice. ’ ‘ i stood on my roof and tried to see you forgetting about me. ’ ‘ hide the details. i don’t want to know a thing. ’ ‘ i hate the way you say my name, like it’s something secret. ’ ‘ my pen is the barrel of a gun. remind me which side you should be on. ’ ‘ i wish that i was as invisible as you make me feel. ’

GRENADE JUMPER

‘ my heart ticks in beat with these kids that i grew up with. ’ ‘ you’re living like life’s going out of style. ’ ‘ at the end of the day you know where i came from, and where i call home. ’ ‘ you were my only friend. ’ ‘ i know this is belated, but i love you back. ’ ‘ they’ll say it’s not worth it, so i’ll leave this town in ruin. ’ ‘ i know you would be there either way. ’ ‘ i’m so glad it seems like these times will never fade. ’ ‘ i’ll tell everyone how much this means to me. ’

CALM BEFORE THE STORM

‘ this story’s going somewhere. ’ ‘ let’s get this party started. ’ ‘ what you do on your own time’s just fine. ’ ‘ my imagination’s much worse. ’ ‘ don’t say it’s over. ’ ‘ the storm set it off. ’ ‘ this is me, standing in the arch of the door, hating the look on your face. ’ ‘ there’s another fool like me. there’s one born every minute. ’

REINVENTING THE WHEEL TO RUN MYSELF OVER

‘ i could walk this fine line between elation and success, but we all know which way i’m going. ’ ‘ you have to prove yourself. ’ ‘ you’ll have to prove it to me. ’ ‘ you’re waiting up for him? ’ ‘ you’re wasting time. ’ ‘ i can’t do it by myself. ’ ‘ i can’t wake up to these reminders of who i am. ’ ‘ i’m a failure at everything. ’ ‘ i’m a failure at everything: eighteen going on extinct. ’ ‘ i know my place. ’ ‘ i know my place; it’s nowhere you should roam. ’

THE PATRON SAINT OF LIARS AND FAKES

‘ i’m holding out. ’ ‘ i’m holding on to every letter and every song. ’ ‘ are you through with me? ’ ‘ when it all goes to hell, will you be able to tell me “sorry” with a straight face? ’ ‘ i’m all ears, and i’m all scars. ’ ‘ boys like you try too hard to look not quite as desperate. ’ ‘ i still know the way to make your makeup run. ’ ‘ take this to your grave, and i’ll take it to mine. ’

#memes #ask memes #rp starters #sentence starters #fob rp meme #fall out boy sentence starters #fall out boy rp meme

[mediocre--writing]

Will sees Billy kind of like a father/ another parental figure (bcoz fuck lonnie). He has Jonathan of course (and Hopper and Steve), but Billy is the one who teaches him how to play basketball, change a tire, throw a punch, etc. a lot of stuff fathers in the 80’s would generally teach their kids

will has a hard time adjusting to changes in his life.

when his father first left, even though he was a piece of shit, it was weird to lose him. he got so used to the occasional affection that he grew to miss that fatherly figure.

jonathan was still a kid, too. he was dealing with their dad leaving as well, and he didn’t need the responsibility of acting like a dad to will.

joyce was amazing, but she’s a helicopter mom. she’s tactical and confident, but in a mom way, and there’s just some things a woman can’t teach her son as well as a man can (the puberty talk was scarring, to say the least)

bob was kind, bob gave will a chance and didn’t look at him any differently, and will thought that maybe, just maybe he could get a father figure out of him, but we all know what happened with that.

then steve came into their small group, but when and dustin had a very close relationship and steve didn’t care to interact with the other kids.

hopper was kind and amazing, but he didn’t have a super close connection with will. he just wasn’t openly warm and fuzzy and they just didn’t connect.

it shouldn’t have been anyone but lonnie’s responsibility to be will’s dad, but he still wanted someone to fill that hole in his heart, left shattered after the first time lonnie called him gay for crying.

and will wasn’t expecting jack shit out of billy. he was loud and obnoxious and crude and selfish and will wanted nothing to do with the californian.

until the day their av club ran late and, as all the boys were picked up, max and will were the only ones left standing on the steps.

billy’s car was sitting in the high school parking lot, among others, who were staying after for basketball practice or other extra curriuculars.

but jonathan’s car wasn’t there and his mom had the late shift and will wasn’t allowed to ride his bike to school anymore, a stern rule from his mom.

max was waiting on the steps of the middle school since billys practice went until 5:00 and there was still a good ten minutes, plus she didn’t want to leave will alone

when billy eventually came strutting out of the school to his car, 10 minutes later than usual, will was still waiting with max.

“do you need a ride? i can force billy to take you home,” max gave a sheepish smile

“do you think he’ll get mad?”

max shrugged her shoulders in a careless manner before starting to walk down the sidewalk to billy

will followed a step behind and overthought this whole situation. he wasn’t all to sure he wanted to be in a car with the guy who almost ran the party over.

but he had to get home somehow.

“billy, will needs a ride home,” max said, as if there was no room for questioning.

“doesn’t your group ride bikes?”

“i got driven to school today,” wills said, almost inaudibly

billy sighed and took a drag of his cigarette before giving max a glare, then getting into his car, meaning max won the argument.

billy was mean but he’s been left at school because of a careless parent one too many times before getting his liscence.

billy asked only twice which way to go, because he’d only ever driven there from the wheelers, not the school (which was in the opposite direction from the wheelers, but just a mile or two farther than the hargrove-mayfield home)

billy flinched at each rock hit the side of his car as he drove down the bumpy dirt road that led to the byers, cursing at the work he would have to do to clean his car later.

will, who was patiently sat in the back, unbuckled before the car fully stopped an max was getting out, leaning the seat foreward, and letting will go into his house.

billy rolled down the window before will walked in, “hey kid!”

will turned to look at billy cautiously, raising his eyebrows in question

“if you ever need another ride home, i’m expecting you to wash my car after!”

will looked at the car, seeing how muddy the wheels and bottom few inches of the car had gotten compared to the pristine condition of the rest of his car

he nodded and billy rolled up his window, waiting until will got inside before driving away.

max snickered from the passenger seat, “you’re such a softie,”

“am not,”

“i doubt will’s ever washed a car in his life,”

“seriously?” billy raised an eyebrow, glancing over to max

she shrugged, “don’t know,”

two or so months later, billy has developed a routine of driving will home every other tuesday, when joyce and jon are too busy to pick him up.

this one particular tuesday, however, max is home sick, so it’s just going to be the two of them

billy doesn’t see it as being so bad. the av club ends about half an hour before basketball practice does, so will and max usually wait by the car, and when billy walks out, will is looking down at one of his tires

as he gets closer, billy sees that his tire was slashed and completely flat by now, he puffed out a breath angrily as he got closer, and will flinched as he heard billy

“i didn’t do it, i swear, billy—“

“yeah, i know you didn’t do it, kid,”

billy takes a moment to push his anger to that little dark spot in his mind before unlocking his trunk, where he kept a spare tire and car jack

“what’s that?” will asked, referring to the car jack

“what? you’ve never changed a tire before?”

will shook his head no.

billy instructed him to put his bag in the car, then showed will how to position the car jack, then get the car up, then remove and replace the tire.

will’s eyes lit up as he helped billy out the new tire on, never having had a person show him classic-guy things like this. jon just would have called a service or something.

it didn’t end there, though. will started to really enjoy billys company.

he was rough and tough around the edges but very patient with will and understood that he didn’t have much experience in normal life things.

billy even offered to teach will how to shoot a basketball one day when practice was running behind.

it’s not until winter falls into spring that billy teaches will another fantastic life skill.

will comes trudging to the car with max one day in march, head bowed and hoodie covering his face.

billy and max have a silent conversation of ‘what’s up with will’ and ‘don’t ask’

billy doesn’t see it until he’s driving down the road to will’s house and looks in his rear view mirror. there’s a big, blue/red/purple mark on his cheek.

it takes every ounce of power in billy’s body to not track down and kill an 8th grader. but he’s better than that.

as wills getting out of the car to go to his house, billy gets out too, tells max to stay in the car.

“what happened?”

will sighed in defeat, he knew he couldn’t hide it forever, “troy, he’s a dick in my grade and just, hit me today, its not a big deal,”

will looked so dejected at the recap of his day that billy almost hugged him. almost. he had a reputation to upkeep, you know.

“so did you hit him back?”

“i probably would have hurt my hand more than his face if i tried,”

“you don’t know how to punch?”

“do you really think my mom would have taught me how?”

“good point,” billy nodded, taking a moment of silence to think, “are you doing anything this sunday?”

will’s face scrunched up, but he shook his head no. billy had a wicked grin growing on his face.

“perfect. i’m going to teach you how to hit that piece of shit back. i��ll pick you up sunday at one, sound good?”

before will could get a word in, billy was turned around and walking back to the car.

the saturday meet-up wasn’t as bad as wills thought it was gonna be.

billy had picked him up, one on the dot, and driven them out to the old junkyard, bringing a pillow and his toolbox out with him.

he held a pillow to his chest and looked at will. “hit me,”

“what?”

“you wont hurt me, but i brought the pillow so now you especially can’t hurt me, so do it. hit me!”

will gave a weak punch and billy corrected him from there. moved his thumb so he wouldn’t hurt himself, changed the approach, and showed him how to get more power into his hits.

will was a pro by the end of the hour.

“so what’s the toolbox for?” will asked as they were sitting on the hood of a rusty, old car, taking a break

“ahh, the fun part of the afternoon, you mean,”

will raised an eyebrow and watched as billy pulled out a crowbar from the box, handing it to will

“what am i doing with this?”

“hit the car,” billy looked way too excited for this.

when will didn’t move, billy’s shoulders sagged.

“look, it’s therapeutic and these are all dump cars anyway, just start hittin’ it!”

will did, he hit a junky, old, red car as hard as he could and was elated by the huge dent that was pushed in as a result.

“there you go! do it again!” billy encouraged

will did. he hit the car over and over and over.

billy was right, it was therapeutic. every time he had an angry thought, be it about his dad or his bullies, he hit the car and a string that kept him all tied up snapped.

will didn’t even realize he was slowing down until his muscles stopped moving and he had his arms hanging to his sides, crowbar still grasped tightly in his hand.

“feel good?” billy asked, walking closer and taking the crowbar, putting it in the toolbox and locking it, then picking up it and the pillow.

“feels good,” will nodded

billy motioned for will to start walking to where he’d parked the car, only a bit away, so they could go home.

“thank you,” will said as they were driving down the road, music quieter than billy usually played it and a peaceful silence between the two

“what for?”

“doing this... like, manly stuff, i guess. i never knew how to punch or change a tire or play sports before, and it’s been cool hanging out with you,”

will has his whole body turned towards billy (who was peaking glances at him while keeping his eyes on the road).

“i’m glad i can help you out kid. i used to get pushed around a lot, believe it or not, and i wish someone had helped me out and i didn’t have to go it alone, ya know?”

will nodded, glancing out the window and seeing that they were pulling onto his street.

“i’m glad i get to help you out, kid.” billy reached the end of the driveway and parked the car, “let me know if you ever... need a ride to the arcade or something, ok? never be afraid to ask.”

will thanked him again and pushed the door open, going into his house, listening to the camaro’s engine rev after he’d shut the door.

he hadn’t ever had a stable father figure, and he knew billy was too young to be his dad in any sense, but doing things like this made the gap in his heart grow smaller and smaller every day.

because who needs a dad when you’ve got billy hargrove?

#stranger things #billy hargrove #will and bill(y) #will and billy #mediocre—writing #will byers #harringrove

[kookiebunnii]

d4u || a-tier healthcare

aug. 2018. finally moved back in today. i needed to get something for classes this year, but jungkook’s gone and hurt himself again. i swear the boy barely functions when he stays up all night playing overwatch. if he keeps this up, well, he better like hello kitty band-aids. 

pairing: best friend!jungkook x reader

genre: slice of life

word count: 1.4k

warnings: brief mentions of blood (like .2 seconds worth)

Most people you knew absolutely dreaded when school started. As soon as August and September roll around like a couple of snickering troublemakers, your fellow collegians would weep knowing that classes and exams were about to insert themselves into their schedules. It meant that summer, and all the freedom and laughter associated with it, was coming to an end. Instead of enjoying the bright sunshine and baby blue skies every day, the scenery was being replaced with drab grey walls and chairs that felt uncomfortable no matter how you sat.

Surprisingly enough, it didn’t really bother you all that much. You had spent summer working full-time at a relative’s restaurant as a waitress, meaning that you never got the chance to really take a vacation. The three months you were blessed with passed by like a blur. They were filled with placating tipsy adults or bawling infants, carrying as many plates as you could in your arms without spilling mystery sauce all over yourself, and bringing yourself to smile consistently on an 8-hour shift. It was far from an ideal summer, to say the least. In fact, you were relieved that classes were starting. Now, you could work and learn about concepts you were actually interested in. Besides, it also meant that you would get to move back into your apartment near university, which you shared with Jungkook. The boy loved traveling and spent most of his time jumping from one destination to another, filming small videos for G.C.F. You could count on one hand the amount of times you spent physically with him over the break, and as much as it pained you to admit—you missed watching him embarrass himself on the daily.

Late August was still warm, teetering curiously between summer and the beginning of autumn. You had just finished moving back into your place, feeling refreshed with a shower after the long trip. Deciding to head out and do some stationary shopping before preparing dinner, you pulled on your favorite shoes. It wasn’t like you needed anything in particular, since you’d keep the same 3-subject notebook from last year-- but the store you loved always had the cutest animal-shaped post-its. Surely it couldn’t hurt to find some (FaveAnimal) ones for this quarter, just to start off on the right foot.

Humming to yourself, you bounded down the stairs of your complex while double-checking your pockets for all your personal items. As you walked at a leisurely pace, you began wondering what Jungkook could be doing at this hour. You saw that his things were already back in his room, meaning that he was back for school as well. Maybe you’d make some pasta for the two of you when you get back, since he always liked when you cooked for him.

“Y/N!”

Hearing your name causes you to look up, realizing that the familiar saying really was true: speak (or in this case ‘think’) of the Devil and he shall appear.

“Guk?” you ask, observing the way he’s slightly favoring his left side as he walks towards you, “You good?”

You can see him wince as he approaches, but still trying hard to brush the pain off with a silly grin, “Not exactly.”

Pulling at his wrist, you realize that the skin on the side of his hand is broken and bloody. There’s dirt and bits of granite adhering to his skin, streaks of dried blood all over. You stay silent as you look down to observe his knee, seeing that his jeans are ripped with red stains that definitely weren’t part of any fashion statement. He had hurt his knee as well.

“Did you fall?” you guess, letting go of his arm to look him in the eyes questioningly.

“I bought a penny board over the summer since my classes are sorta far from each other this quarter. Guess I need more practice,” he shrugs nonchalantly before walking in the direction of your apartment, waving you away.

Frowning as you watch his back retreat where you came, you realize that by being the stupid worrywart you are, you only had one real choice in this scenario.

Sorry cute stationary, mommy’s gonna have to reschedule.

Sprinting to catch up with him, you silently walk beside him as the two of you head back inside the apartment. Even though he struggles up the stairs a little, you don’t hold him up or anything like that. You know that he hates when people treat him like a kid, so you’ve grown accustomed to accepting his stubbornness. Unless he’s literally on death’s door or asks for your help, you let him be responsible for himself.

Leaning his new penny board against the doorway, he enters the apartment with a sigh before heading to the bathroom to clean his wounds. Clicking your tongue like a disapproving mother, you head to the kitchen to look for the first-aid kit. After a couple of mishaps involving the kitchen knife and your clumsy fingers, you learned that that was the best place to keep it.

Pulling out some bandages, rubbing alcohol wipes, and anti-scarring cream, you follow him into the bathroom.

From the faucet, water runs over his hand as he gently brushes blood and dirt away from the injury. You can tell it hurts by the way his jaw is tight, and a small part of you feels bad to see him in any sort of pain…even if that pain is probably due to him trying out a trick he saw on Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater or something.

“Give me.”

You grab his hand and turn off the faucet. Patting his hand dry with his towel hanging from the side, you look at it closely to make sure the opening in his skin is relatively clean. Satisfied, you open up an alcohol swab and smile widely, “This is gonna hurt a lot!”

“Why am I not surprised that you seem to be happy saying that? Whatever…just hurry up” he looks at you blankly, but you can still feel his arm tense at your words.

You start with a quick and heavy swipe, and to his credit, he doesn’t even flinch. You follow up with more gentle administrations before tossing the wipe into the trash. The anti-scarring scream is cooling, so he’ll probably enjoy it a bit more.

After finishing up his hand, you let it go and catch his round, brown eyes staring at you. You stare back for two seconds before sticking your tongue out and causing him to laugh.

“Alright string bean, show me those kneecaps,” you roll up your sleeves to show that you mean business.

“On the first date? Damn,” he whistles before starting to unbutton his jeans.

“Alright I guess you’ll be handling your knee yourself.”

Closing the door behind you, you can literally feel the amusement radiating from him in waves through the wood. It was a wonder to you that he could be so casual and teasing with you, but once he sees a pretty female within a 10-mile radius, he’d act like a frightened rabbit. After all these years with him, he probably didn’t even see you as a woman. It didn’t particularly bother you, since you were just as friendly with him as he was with you. He’s seen you walk around the house with bed hair and dark circles, so you never felt the need to be cautious or nervous around him. The two of you cared for each other in a comfortable, relaxed way.

As you pull out tomatoes and fresh herbs from the fridge, you hear Jungkook leaving the bathroom. He fills up his favorite Overwatch mug with some water and takes loud gulps as you begin cutting your ingredients and boiling a large pot of water over the stove for the spaghetti.

“Pasta?”

You make a noise of affirmation. He gives the top of your head a few gentle pats which you understood as him thanking you for everything. You stop in mid-chop to pat his hand atop your head in response to let him know that it wasn’t a big deal at all. The beginnings of his special bunny smile start creeping in, and you resist the urge to tickle him to hide your own embarrassment. Just as you open your mouth to say something, he messes up your hair and runs into his room before you can get a punch in.

You wonder if he’s actually 21 this year or 11.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts #bangtan #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts drabble #bts series #bestfriend jungkook #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook ff #bts preferences #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

[lambourngb]

How bout some Michael POV for your masterpiece?!!!

This takes place during chapter 2, Michael has just exited the mindspace and is waiting for the agents to question him. 

“I take my last chance, to burn a bridge or two”

Michael had passed the point of exhaustion both two days and ten years ago. 

The thin, plastic covered cushion in the holding cell at Chaves County Sheriff's Office had the same feel of familiar comfort as his camp bed mattress in the Airstream, both places adequately met his needs after a bender or a brawl. He was never one to shy away from dropping into oblivion, met in the bottom of the bottle or at the end of a long night of working on his ship, until today. Closing his eyes meant slipping into the almost hypnotic state of the mindspace, and then he would hear her voice again.

His mother. Golden and whole for a moment. She was the energy between his cells, the original instructor of his atoms, funneling life into him; to grow and be strong.

“Oh my beloved son, oh you’re here, you’re here already grown and bound, I’m here, but no time, not enough time, there’s so much you should know my beautiful boy, I love you, I love you so much, I will always love you, now go, run, run for me.”

His eyes snapped open as the burn of tears threatened again. Goddamn it, he didn’t have time for that. Taking a deep breath, he stared up at the unremarkable ceiling to force his mind to go quiet. It was an old building, but built soundly. Not a crack in the plaster, not a flaw to betray its age. It housed the broken, who knew where home was but stayed away in the arms of intoxication; the evil, who knew home as a place for violence or thievery, and the lost, who longed for a home but never found the way back. All those souls gathered under its roof, this solid roof that sheltered without wear or tear.

At one time Michael had been all of those; deep into the dark warmth of drunk, or full of crooked wagers from dice games, he had even been picked up on a cold night a time or two with nowhere to go. Marked by violence in a tool shed, the system shocked with such a hard shove on his orbit, that he was knocked forever from the path he once had as a teenager, left to wander in all of those grim directions. 

Once upon a time his English teacher assigned to the class, near the end of term with graduation nipping at their heels, some busy work in the form of a ‘where do you see yourself in ten years’ thought experiment. His hand had sketched out a good job, college degree, and a house, while his mind traveled the fantasies of holding the small hands of a child, of helping pat dirt down over a buried seed in his garden, of Alex, always Alex, playing his guitar on the back porch-

Fuck. His bare left hand, now whole and hale, mocked him.

Michael wrenched his mind back to the present, and dug out a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket to wrap over his left hand. He tied a knot, pulling it tight with his teeth. A bitter smile crept over his mouth, using his teeth again for the grip he lost in his hand was familiar at least.

Hopefully whatever trouble that Max was in, was teaching him a lesson in meddling where he wasn’t wanted. High on power Max thought to heal his hand, but took no care to think about the damn consequences of everything, of Noah, of the things Noah was up to in Roswell. He flexed his hand again, the tight constriction of the fabric felt comfortably close to how the scar tissue pulled and tugged over his ruined knuckles. Already there were too many questions to answer, he didn’t need one more on his hand. 

As angry as he was at Max, he couldn’t help but hope that the flash of pain/wrong/vacuum wasn’t so serious that he couldn’t be useful now. Ride into the Sheriff’s Office, explain away the questions to his boss about Noah and Racist Hank, so Michael could be released without need of Alex and Alex’s story.

Goddamn it Alex. Showing up at the Wild Pony, those hopeful dark eyes turning wounded and betrayed as he realized that just because he didn’t see Michael as suitable, someone else did. Like he had the right to protest Michael moving on from them. It wasn’t Michael saying that they couldn’t be together because of Michael’s record, and it certainly wasn’t Michael saying that their relationship wasn’t worthy of a pyrotechnic breakup. 

And yet. When the pyrotechnics were happening, Alex was there. Immovable. Saying everything that Michael had longed to hear for ten long years.

“I love you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you and I would give anything to have this story be true, that you were mine all along.”

A tear slipped down his unshaven face as he blinked rapidly. Alex was so stupid, how could he miss the fact that Michael had been his? Across the years, through two different battlefields, and after Alex had finally come home, Michael had worn two concrete boots, Alex and Isobel. Each his own anchor to this planet, as he worked to complete his ship.

The door swung open, startling Michael off the bunk, as a tall, dark haired man was escorted into the room by Agent Ross, who shot Michael an annoyed look. “Just knock on the door when you’re ready.” 

The imposing cut of the military uniform and densely packed square of ribbons on his chest sent a shivered down Michael’s spine. It was only just over two days since Michael had been involved in the destruction of a secret military operation. 

“Michael Guerin?” 

“Depends on who is asking.”

“I’m Major Mark Torres, attached to the JAG office at Kirtland Air Force Base.” The officer tucked his cover under his arm and held his hand out toward Michael. 

None of what this Mark Torres said made any sense to him. Kirtland was three hours away, Holloman was the closest base to the Caulfield facility. Michael lifted his eyebrows mockingly, but made no move to step closer to the open cell door, “That’s nice and all, but I’ve got nothing to say to anyone until my lawyer shows up.”

An amused smirk flitted over his mouth, “I am your lawyer, Alex sent me.” Instead of waiting for a response, Mark entered the cell and took a seat on the bunk, turning to Michael with a patient expectation. He placed the brim of his cover next to Michael’s black cowboy hat and then pulled his slim briefcase into his lap.  “I admit, this isn’t how I expected to meet you, the infamous Michael.”

“Alex got me an Air Force lawyer?” The rest of that implication, that Alex had spoken of them to anyone in the past, let alone someone in the service was too much to even think about.

“I’m a lawyer who’s in the Air Force, and I’m doing this in the civilian court system pro-bono,” Mark replied easily, and popped the fasteners of his briefcase open to pull out a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Now that we’ve covered why I’m here, let’s talk about why you’re here. Tell me everything you know about Noah Bracken, what your connection to him, why the police might think you’re involved with his disappearance, and why they found a body when they came to question you.”

Michael stared at Major Mark Torres for a long moment, weighing his extremely limited options. The distant place inside him, where his faint connection to Max lived, was still and empty. He rubbed his wrapped fist against his face before sighing as he took a seat next to him. Alex said to trust him that he would get Michael out of this, and whatever mess that lay between them after Caulfield and now Maria, Michael believed wholeheartedly that Alex didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

As a rule Alex Manes didn’t make promises at all, to anyone, least of all to Michael.

“I know Noah Bracken, I mean everyone does in this town and I have a record, petty shit obviously, but that’s enough I guess for them to suspect me. But I have an alibi, I was with my boyfriend all night- hell, I’m with him every night. We’re kinda makin’ up for lost time since he was in Iraq, until well-”

“You’re referring to Captain Alexander Manes, correct?” Mark asked, scratching notes down on his pad without looking up.

“No one calls him ‘Alexander’, but yeah. Alex.” Michael licked his lips almost nervously, before he took a deep breath. This was the easy part of the alibi. “Alex is everything to me. I fell in love with him when we were seventeen, and I never stopped fallin’.”

“He did mention you were a romantic.” Mark nodded in approval of Michael’s words and capped his pen, “let’s start with the last time people saw Bracken in public at that-, good God, this town has a museum dedicated to aliens? What a thing to celebrate. Anyway, Alex tells me you’re a mechanic, that you can fix anything you put your hands on, were you at the gala for business purposes?”

Michael stuttered a little, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. He wasn’t used to anyone singing his praises, let alone a complete stranger. What did Alex say to this guy? “Um I helped do the lighting and sound for the organizer, Isobel. Um, Isobel Evans-Bracken. I left Alex at home, err, my Airstream ‘cause he doesn’t really enjoy the dog-and-pony show even though there was free booze. I gave a friend a ride home, Maria Deluca, and then spent the rest of the evening with Alex. In bed.”

His pen never stopped moving, “and last night, when this Hank Gibbons ended up dead, you were with Alex again? At your Airstream again?”

“Yeah, um, Alex lives pretty far out of town, and I had work in town. Um, during the week he spends a couple nights at mine, on weekends we’re at his place. Compromise.” 

Spinning this fairy tale of shared residences to Torres, of disappearing to Alex’s cabin on the weekends and splitting the time apart during the week renewed an ache inside Michael. The slow turn of a bolt, burrowing into his heart as the threads of the light caught on hope and corkscrewed deeper into place. 

“No one can corroborate that, correct? Other than Alex?” 

“We’ve been keeping our relationship quiet. For personal reasons.”

This time Mark’s pen came to a halt, and he looked over to Michael with a sad understanding smile, “I’ve met Alex’s dad. He’s a first class prick. I’ve never met anyone more different from Alex in my life.”

“That’s for sure. Niger can have him. In fact, I hope he gets Ebola over there.” His eyes glanced up to the video camera on the corner before dropping to Torres again. Michael paused, hedging the risk of this disclosure, before continuing, “I’m not a violent man, but if I were, I wouldn’t bother with the town lawyer or the local racist asshole, it would be to protect Alex from that guy.”

Mark followed his gaze to the camera and back, before nodding. “I think I know all I need to know about you, Michael. Let’s go clear this up with the locals and get you released.”

*** 

“You were with Captain Manes all night? You didn’t leave at all?” Agent Ross asked quietly, his thin face placid, while his partner, Agent Rollins barely held back the curl of disgust from his face. 

“Have you seen Alex? Like dude, I know I’m punching way above my class with him, you would have to be crazy to leave a bed that had him in it.” Michael smirked, fiddling with his hat on the table. Next to him, Major Torres stayed quiet taking notes.

“And he can confirm that?”

“Yes. I know he didn’t let you have a good look, but my Airstream isn’t big enough for him to miss me leaving. Trust me. We were together all night.”

“Let’s go back to the fight you had with Mr. Bracken-”

“Man, that’s bullshit, okay?!” Michael cut him off, “I did not have a fight with Noah, and whoever says differently is lying.”

Mark set down his pen to touch Michael’s hand lightly, before looking at the two agents evenly, “one eyewitness, on a dark night, does not overturn the alibi provided by Captain Manes. Let’s move on, shall we?”

“This relationship you’re in with Captain Manes, he’s alluded to the fact that it was kept secret. I find that rather convenient, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to help out a friend. Maybe cover up the fact you were having an affair with the wife of our missing lawyer?” Rollins smirked, exchanging glances with his partner. 

It took a moment before Michael could catch the inference, and then only Mark’s tight grip on his wrist kept him in his seat. “Wait?! You think I’m lying about Alex to cover up for an affair with Isobel? What the fuck, man? Number one, that’s gross on a number of levels, number two, Alex is the most stubborn man alive, but he’s also the most honorable. He wouldn’t do that for anyone, especially not about adultery. He could get court martialed for that shit.”

Ross picked up his turn to provoke, offering another even almost-bored question to Michael, “I see, you deny that an affair was going on with Ms. Bracken. So you’re not attracted to women then?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Torres protested. 

“Mr. Guerin opened the door earlier, basing his alibi on how attractive a bed partner Captain Manes was.”

Michael took a deep breath again, pushing down the nettled feelings of exposure. Of all things he thought he would be discussing at the sheriff’s office, this wasn’t anywhere on the list. “Not that it’s relevant, but I’m bisexual, yes. I’m also monogamous. It’s not that difficult to understand. I love Alex, I wouldn’t cheat on him with anyone.”

“So on the night of the Gala, that was thrown by your platonic good friend Mrs. Bracken, you were there, without Captain Manes, but in the company of a Ms. Maria Deluca. Another platonic friend, I assume. Do you remember anyone bothering Mr. Bracken? Someone who might have wanted to harm him?”

***

Hours later, after they had combed through every minute of Michael’s time at the gala and the night before when Hank Gibbons was at the Wild Pony, the agents finally concluded their questions and granted his release from temporary custody. There was still an air of disbelief from both agents regarding his alibi being with Alex.

From the outside, Michael couldn’t blame them. Even setting aside his spotty employment record, rap sheet, and history of being in care of the state, anyone with eyes could see that Alex Manes was a man who could have his pick of partners. Why would he pick the outcast of Roswell? It didn’t make sense to Michael that was for sure, and that had been true almost from the beginning.  

“This was fun, Agent Rollins. Let me know if you want me to go over my movements from the other night again, and Alex’s even better movements. I can really open up on that, if it helps,” Michael offered, stomping the blood back into his boots as he left the interview room eagerly.

There was some satisfaction in seeing out of the corner of his eye, Agent Rollins looking as if he had bit into a lemon. 

Next to him, Torres grabbed Michael’s forearm with a warning squeeze and steered him down the hall where Alex was waiting with a worried expression. “What my client means is, you have my number if you wish to schedule a follow-up interview. We’re happy to cooperate in any investigation, especially if it leads to Mr Bracken returning safely home.”

Alex’s eyes flickered from Torres’s hand on his shoulder to the agents and back to Michael, but there was a hint of smug satisfaction in those dark eyes. Somehow Michael knew that Alex was holding back amusement over his graphic words to the bigoted agent. Well, there was no sense in not completing the performance.

He moved into Alex’s space comfortably, and brought his hands to Alex’s neck to draw him into a kiss. His last memory of kissing Alex, had been handled and revisited to the point of being thread-bare before being set aside as an old fantasy out of reach. Feeling Alex’s arms come up and hold him close, sent shocks down his fingertips as he cupped Alex’s chin to hide the chasteness of the kiss from view. 

Alex wasn’t playing fair in return. 

Those big, firm hands of his slid up Michael’s back, and threaded into the sweat-thick curls of his hair. Michael felt Alex’s lips part against his, that clever hot mouth opening to Michael, and nothing tempted Michael more in that moment, than following Alex’s lead. 

That long bolt of the lie, turned deeper inside him, shredding the few safeguards he had in place. Alex loved him, Alex wanted to protect him, Alex had never stayed before- so many truths, so many reasons he wasn’t able to trust this especially now. Michael kept his mouth closed, and after a second, he felt Alex back away. They were good at that at least, retreating.

Alex’s cheeks were warm, probably from the public nature of the kiss, even as his face showed only the firm resolve of their shared story. His eyes drifted down, playing his role of a shy lover with Michael expertly. “You uh, ready to go home then?”

“Long past ready, darlin’.” Michael exhaled tiredly, already wondering how he was going to make it through this without losing more of his heart than he had to spare in the process. He reached for the familiar weight of his hat in his hand, and tipped it to the still watching agents. 

#malex fic #fake dating your ex because of the feds #no beta here #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #missing scene #no excuses ask meme #hmd023

[dadgonedeku]

breakdown ❄︎

❄︎ -Pro Hero!Todoroki x Fem!Reader Oneshot

❄︎ -Synopsis: Your pro hero husband comes home from work late, only to find you in the middle of the living room floor shaking with countless tears in your eyes. Why were you crying? And how would he deal with it?

❄︎ -Warnings: Mental breakdown, cursing, slight angst, fluffy ending

❄︎ -Honestly I don’t know what was going through my head when I wrote this....late thoughts? My secret sadness coming back to bite my tushy? I don’t know tbh, but here, have this mess of a one shot that I definitely didn’t proof read and that probably doesn’t even make sense.

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Four. It was four in the morning. Four in the goddamn morning and here you were, the little wife of the famous pro hero Shouto, bawling her eyes out like no tomorrow in the middle of your living room floor.

Your e/c eyes glistened in the dim light of the living room as you sat there and cried, your small, shaking body wrecked with weakness and you felt nothing but emptiness and the urge to just lay down and sleep forever. You viciously scratched your s/c fingers harshly under your eyes in the hopes to wipe away your tears but you just couldn’t, you couldn’t keep up with the amount of tears you were shedding as another broken sob shook throughout your core.

Why? Why the hell were you crying this much? There was honestly no reason for you to be in this situation, you had the life you wanted.

That life being with your husband, Shouto. The two of you had officially gotten together in your last year of high school and he even ended up proposing to you a couple years later, and you remembered that moment vividly. You couldn’t hold in the tears and excitement in that moment and you could barely even get out a definite answer before you felt your knees cave in underneath you and your body collapsed into Shouto’s strong arms. You had him so scared and worried for you, but when you wrapped your shaky arms around his neck and whispered a quiet yes, he knew everything would be okay.

A few years later and you couldn’t be happier, you had the house you dreamed of, the husband you dreamed of, the profession you dreamed of, hell, you had the life you dreamed of.

But was it worth the one thing that made you like this every time your precious husband left you?

Fourteen. Fourteen hours he was gone, torn away from your side after he had gotten an urgent call about a villain attack downtown somewhere. It was absolutely devastating, and he could only mutter a ‘sorry’ and ‘love you honey see you later’ before pulling himself from your grasp under your satin bedsheets and running out of the front door to your house.

It almost seemed as though your world was slowly shattering as you had no choice but to watch whatever the news had, as it appeared that every news station was onto getting a story about the attack and broadcasting what footage they could get. No matter how many times you pressed the channel button you couldn’t find anything other than reports on the villain attack, the same attack that your husband was currently partaking in.

You were proud, so so proud of him. You got to watch him grow up into a fine adult and husband as the two of you continued to power through life together, and while you weren’t a hero yourself, you still loved to see him grow and become stronger in the hopes of being able to save the lives of innocent, everyday citizens.

You couldn’t wait to see how he would grow next.

But then you couldn’t bring yourself to watch the news anymore.

You couldn’t convince yourself that he was going to be okay.

His injury wasn’t fatal, hell he probably wasn’t even hit that hard. But he got struck down once and that was enough to send you into hysterics. You couldn’t help the tears that formed in your eyes as the headlines raged through your mind.

‘Fight of the Decade’

‘Top Pro Heroes Deku, Ground Zero, and Shouto unable to fight off villain?!’

‘What is to become of the raging battle between the top three heroes and villain?’

“ It is here and now that we ask ourselves, what is to become of our society? And will our heroes prevail like they always have? Or will this fight be the one exception? Keep watching for more updates on the-“

You couldn’t...you couldn’t bear it. There was no way you would be able to bring yourself to watching anymore as tears and broken sobs escaped your lips. You left your phone and turned off every device in the house aside from your one living room lamp, which was as of now...the only light that you allowed to serve you as you continued to cry and shake in the middle of the floor.

“ Love?”

Your eyes widen as you realize who’s voice that word belonged you. That simple word that you cherished so much. You didn’t even notice him come in and drop his duffel bag at the doorstep as he tore off his boots and rushed to your side, instantly kneeling down to you and scooping you into strong and scarred arms.

“ Honey?! My love what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“ I...” You couldn’t bring yourself to reply to him as yet another sob clawed itself up your throat, ripping through your vocal cords as your fingers clawed into your husband’s hero costume.

He was okay. He was alive. And he was here. With you. At your side. Alive...

He was alive.

“ My love...y/n please-“

“ SHOUTO!” You cried as you buried your face in his broad chest, broken cries filling your throat as you felt yourself choke on your own heartache. Why? Why was this so hard for you?

“ Honey...”

He didn’t know what to do, or what to say...so he tried his best...

“ Deep breathes baby please, please just breathe for me.” He says with that calm husk in his tired voice as he pets your h/c hair and cradles your smaller body in his arms. You instantly feel your body relax against him as you attempt to even out your breath, soaking in the smell of dirt and smoke that covered his usual scent of a soothing campfire.

“ Sho...” You trail off as you only grab onto his costume tighter and bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck, you can feel your breathing beginning to even out as you subconsciously try to match the soft, deep inhales of your husband.

“ My love, please tell me what’s wrong? Did something happen?” He asks urgently as worry laces his every word, and you can’t help but sit up in his lap and bring shaking hands to your eyes in yet another futile attempt to dry off your tears. Your halfway down your eye before you feel him gently move your hands to the side and bring his thumbs to dry your tears as he cups your soft s/c face in his calloused hands.

“ Oh Shouto...I’m so sorry...the fight-“

“ Is over, and I’m okay. I promise. Although I have to admit, it was the hardest damn fight I’ve ever had in my life.” He huffs out a short laugh as he brings you into his chest once more, a few of your last tears slipping from your puffy and bloodshot e/c eyes. You begin to run your nimble fingers through the red half of his hair as the bicolored male presses a few short kisses to your forehead, easing your still shaking body even further into contentment.

“ It’s hard you know? It’s hard being married to you, a top hero. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you and I love and support you and will continue to do so for as long as you’re here with me, but it’s so hard Sho.”

“ I know.”

“ So hard.”

“ I know, and I’m sorry.”

“ You didn’t even give me a kiss on the way out.”

“ I know honey, and I regretted it as soon as I left the house, but I guess I was just so shocked and sleep ridden that I didn’t even give it a second thought. That’s on me love, and I’m so sorry.”

“ You could have died Sho...”

“ But I didn’t...” His replies are short and simple as you adjust yourself in his lap, his arms wrapped around you as you let out a soft hum in his embrace. He gives you another gentle kiss on the top of your head, letting his tender lips linger for a few moments before you speak up again.”

“ And I’m glad you didn’t...I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me tonight.”

“ It’s four in the morning love.”

“ I know.”

“ I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“ I’m the one who should be saying that to you, Mr. Pro Hero.”

“ Well you’re my wife, and you know that I’ll always come back to you.”

“ Yeah...I know.”

“ Come on, let’s get some sleep.” He says softly, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before slowly beginning to move you off of him, to which you respond by sleepily clinging to his chest as soft and goofy whines leave your lips.

“ Honey-”

“ Me no wanna get up, too tired...” You huff out in a childish tone as you close your eyes against your husband’s firm chest. He only flashes you a soft smile before moving to scoop you into his arms again, picking you up gently by the hips as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You can feel Shouto’s warm breath against your h/c hair as you feel him softly pad upstairs to your shared bedroom.

“ I love you Sho.” You whisper as he tucks you into your side of the bed.

“ And I you, my love.” He responds with a low tone to his voice as he tucks himself in next to you, wrapping your smaller body within his strong arms, pulling you close to him once again.

“ No more tears?” He asks as he runs his fingers through your soft hair, facing the back of your head.

“ No more tears.” You repeat in contentment as you finally gain your peace, ending your dreadful day by falling asleep encased in your husband’s arms.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fluff #mha #todoroki shouto #todobaku x reader #female reader #oneshot #slight angst #todoroki x you #pro hero!todoroki x reader #pro hero!todoroki #bnha pro hero au #pro hero au #todoroki x fem!reader #mental breakdown #angst with a happy ending #todoroki angst

[quirkdotcom]

The Arrangement | Part Two- The Meeting

Chapter Summary: It's finally the weekend for (Y/n) so that means its time to meet this suitor of hers...but also the Number one hero Endeavor. Could things be any worse ??

Authors Note: I am so sorry for the late update !!! I have been having troubles with writers block, and a few personal things, but I am going to try and stay in this writing habit !! I am even working on a denki fic !! Anyways, enjoy !

Part One

"(Y/n), our guests are here, come greet them," your mother called from the front room, where you were dreading to go.

"Coming! Just a moment!" You called, smoothing down the skirt that you had bought earlier this week. You took a deep breath, taking a moment to send Maiko a quick message about how you were about to meet with Endeavour and his son.

As you made your way down the stairs, you could hear your father already laughing and making conversation with Enji Todoroki, but those were the only voices you heard. 

"Ah, there's my daughter!" He proudly beamed, most likely fake as he was never proud of you...not like this. 

You forced a smile onto your face, bowing your head slightly as you approached the two figures.  When you looked back up, you first made eye contact with the pro hero. 

He was intimidating, somewhere around six foot.  Though it wasn't his height, or sturdy build, or even the scar across his face, that made him fearsome. No. 

You found that it was the look in his eyes, they held very little emotion as he looked to you. If anything, they were scrutinizing and mean. The same that you had seen in your own father's eyes at times. 

Quickly, you averted your eyes, now looking to his son, the guy who you were going to be forcefully placed into a marriage with. 

After Maiko and you found out that Shoto was the son of Enji, and that you'd be meeting with him, your best friend had asked her coworker, Kirishima for his phone number, as they were classmates. And the redhead happily gave it to Maiko, who in turn, gave it to you. 

You had tried your best to make the first text quick, and explain everything, but the dual haired boy had never responded. 

You smiled politely to him. After being able to text him earlier this week, you hoped that Enji didn't know about the milkshake incident, or that you had tried talking to his son. But hey, luckily you were skilled at acting. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you both, my name is (Y/L/N) (Y/F/N)," 

"This is Shoto, and my name is Enji, but I'm sure you already know who I am," 

You nodded, "It is an honor to have you in our home, Im sure that my parents have already asked that you both make yourself at home here," 

Together, the four walked into the main living room, where Tea and some light snacks were readily made and kept warm by a maid. 

Once seated, your mother began to speak.

"Tell me, Shoto, how are your studies? I heard that you attend UA!"

He looked up to her, thinking for a moment, "It's good. By now, the weaker students have been weeded out. I'm actually one of the top three students there currently," 

You perked up, wanting to see how much he'd tell about UA, what it meant to be in the top three, and whether or not it was anything like your father said.

"Really? Tell me more! I've heard a lot about that school, and I've always wished I had been able to attend," you started, but stopped shortly as a hand was placed firmly on your shoulder. 

"(Y/N) Now don't bombard him. I'm sure that he doesn't want to speak about school on the weekend, " Your father gave you a side eye, in which you only nodded as a response.

It was silent for some time before you mother spoke up once more, "(Y/n), why don't you show Shoto to our garden, while your father and Enji talk details," 

"Yes mother," You said, masking your emotions with yet another fake smile, holding onto it until you and Shoto reached the backyard, where your mother's prized garden waited. 

Upon closing the door behind you, you sighed heavily. 

"You too huh?" Todoroki glanced over, his eyes reflecting the same amount of disdain for the situation. 

"Yeah...this isn't quite how I'd like life to go," you shrugged, knowing that you didn't really have a choice. 

At first, he didn't say anything, letting you lead the way further into the garden, and in the conversation. 

"Oh and again, I'm really sorry about my milkshake...and for having to get your number from that Kirishima guy, I know that it isn't polite," 

As he stopped to hold the bud of a blooming flower between his fingers,  Todoroki shrugged, "It's fine. No one was home to question me about the stains on my clothes, and Kirishima gave me a heads up," 

"Oh! It stained your clothes! Please let me make it up somehow!" You turned to face him, eyes widening some as you realized that he had been wearing a white shirt that day. 

"But I already said it was fine? It's just a shirt, by now my sister probably cleaned it fairly well," 

"Oh…" you nodded once, rocking backwards onto your heels, "I guess that's okay then…" 

He straightened out, "We should talk about the rhino in the room," 

You paused, "Uhhh...elephant," 

He stared at you, blinking slowly, then looked around, as if he was wondering if you and your parents had enough money to manage an elephant.

"The saying goes that there's an elephant in the room..not a...rhino?" You pause for a moment, "But uh yes, I agree…" 

With that, Shoto nods once, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you also don't want to go through with an arranged marriage," 

"That's correct…but I really have no choice. I'd be facing my father everyday, met with a wall of un-forgiveness. I don't think I'd be able to handle it," You let out a long sigh, walking more until you found the bench put in by your mother.

He followed you, taking a seat after you had sit down. He wore a pensive look on his face, as if he was thinking about some past memory.

After a few moments he said, "But, it's your life…" 

You looked away from him, holding your hand out, watching as you activated your quirk.

Around you, loose dirt and sand raised from the ground, coming together into hard clumps of dirt. As you closed your fist, the shot forwards and fell as their energy died out. You could do this with most organic substances, but sand, dirt and rocks always worked best. 

Your father however, could do it with whatever he wanted. Object propulsion was what he had always called it. Brought things up, and then forwards at alarmingly fast rates. 

"It's never been my life. If it had been my life, I would have attended UA, I would be in control of how I act and how I want to decorate things. What I say and how I express myself. " You dropped your hand, shaking your head, "As much as I wish to defy his rules, I know that I'd only be a bigger disappointment to him and the rest of my family. I'd bring shame to our name and unwanted publicity," 

He didn't answer as first, as instead, memories flashed in front of his eyes. The sports festival being the most prominent. How long had he repressed using his fire. How long had he resented his own reflection.  

As he gazed at you, he could almost see some of the same traits. 

"Well, if that's the case. I suppose that by accepting this arrangement, I would only be helping you." He stood up, holding his hand out to you, "In which I want to get to know you better, that way, a marriage in the future won't be just to merge two hero alliances, but so we can enjoy ourselves," 

You faced him, taking his hand and standing up, the two of you now shaking hands for a short moment. 

"I'm looking forward to that," You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up.

For the next half an hour, you and Shoto walked around your garden, taking turns talking about your interests and your lives. He told you about his siblings, and his mother. He talked about his friends, his classmates and his school. 

You in turn talked about your best friend, your mother, what it was like at your own school, and your want to have a puppy. 

"A puppy?? What kind? What would you name them?" He asked, stopping by some lavender colored roses, which weren't normally that color, but with your mom's quirk, the ability to change certain aspects about organic life,  like color and size, made it possible. She always talked about the significance of this certain color but you couldn't remember. 

"Any kind! If it was a boy, I'd name him Haku...and for a girl...maybe something like...Kiyo!" You beamed, a little proud of yourself for thinking of names on the spot. 

Shoto nodded, never having thought much about getting a pet, but the idea seemed to grow on him more and more as he doted on the idea of seeing you with a puppy. 

Before you knew it, both of your names were being called by your respective parents. Their meeting must have finished. 

As the two of you walked up, Enji spoke, "The details have been set, once you finish this year, you two will be engaged, and half a year after, the marriage date will be set."

Then your father took over at that point, "From there, our hero agencies will be joined into one, making us all stronger together," 

You caught your mother's eye, she looked a little distant, but still gave you a warm smile, the best one she could afford at the moment. 

Together, the five of you walked to the front door, and watched as Todoroki and his father got into their car, and drove away from your house. 

You waited until you could no longer see their car before turning and walking inside, your father and mother following suit. 

As you turned to walk up the stairs, your name was called once more, it was again, your father.

"(Y/n), do not forget what this means for us," 

"I...I won't" You didn't turn around, only continuing up the stairs and into your room, quietly shutting the door behind you, and sliding down it until you were sitting, knees hugged to your chest. 

While the event had been surprisingly nice, Shoto definitely seemed a lot nicer now that he wasn't covered in a strawberry milkshake. And you two even got along pretty well. 

But, his father and yours...they'd never understand.  To your knowledge, your own father had married your mother to take over her mother's hero agency. Never for love. You weren't even sure if they had come to love each other. 

After some five minutes you stood back up, moving to your bed and flopping down onto it, pulling your bunny plush to you, hugging it tightly.  

Supposedly, now that the details have been set, you'd be seeing more of Shoto and his family...and that almost didn't seem so bad. Maybe, since you wouldn't be alone in all this, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. 

You then pulled out your phone, hitting the power button and watching as the screen turned on, notifications filing in one by one. 

There were some from your group chat, and others from the few youtubers you watched, and then a few hidden text messages. 

When you unlocked your phone and opened the text app, you of course had a few from Maiko, asking how the meeting had gone, and then surprisingly, one from Shoto.

You typed out a response to your best friend first, recounting how everything played out. From seeing how scary his father really was, to the walk in the garden. You kept having to delete things and rewrite them, trying to make it so you seemed more enthused than you were, though she'd definitely catch on either way. 

Then, with a deep breath, you looked to the message from Todoroki. 

It read, "Hey, (Y/n) today wasn't actually too bad. I look forward to actually being friends."

At first, you didn't quite know what to say.  But as you pulled up the keyboard, you found yourself comfortably responding with, "Hey! Me too! Together this won't be terrible!" And hit send without even a second thought. 

Not even a moment later, your phone buzzed, half expecting a text back, you were surprised to see that it was actually a call from Maiko. Well, not too surprised.

"Hello?" 

"Mkay tell me everything, and not the half hearted 'it was so much fun' stuff because I know its a lie," 

You hummed, giving a soft laugh a moment later, "okay, okay, it wasn't exactly the best! His dad is really...really scary. I mean, even without the flames sprouting from his face. Not to mention, Endeavour in the same room as my dad?? I felt like the room drained of any good vibes." 

"Ah so they didn't pass the vibe check," you could almost hear her shaking her head sadly.

"Oh definitely not, " you chuckled, rolling over onto your back, still holding the bunny, "But Shoto isn't actually that bad?? He seemed really nice...not at all like the pictures or how he was at the mall!"

She paused, "Really?? Because I could have sworn that he was ready to kill one or both of us back then," 

"Surprisingly it's true. He spent like ten minutes talking about his siblings and how they all had dinner the day before." 

You both went on to talk about things for some time, passing the time away as your conversation drifted from Todoroki to the upcoming week of school, and the week in general.

At one point, you went to check your calendar app, and was met with another message from Todoroki.

"Ooooh Maiko I have a favor to ask…"

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Request: MomoJirou prompt! Jirou gets gravely injured protecting/saving Momo from danger!

Ah, yes! The angst and pain over the safety of a loved one~! Happens to be one my specialties, Anon!

Trigger Warning: Violence, Blood/ Gore

Rescue work was something that Jirou had a handful of experience with. She’d done her part during a hostage situation while doing her internship in her first year at UA. Her second year, she’d done her work study with a more general Heroics agency, working directly under a Pro named Genre Hopper. He was a fun Pro to work under, whose Quirk was that his fighting style changed based on what type of music he was listening to. He had taught her a lot about how to adjust her fighting style to prepare for the unexpected, and she was grateful for everything he taught her.

For her third year, though, she’d decided to join her girlfriend, Momo, and check out an agency that focused on rescues exclusively. They handled hostage situations, natural disasters and villain attacks. The agency was led by a Pro named Snowdrift, whose Quirk was Snow Leopard. Her ears, fangs, tail, and legs were feline in nature. She tended to only be around during the cooler weather, showing up at the tail end of September and then leaving in mid-March, as her body was better adjusted for cooler climates, to tend to business at a few agencies she operated in other countries. On the first day while they filled out their work study paperwork, she offered them some insights about how to manage multiple agencies, travelling, and things like that, as well as talking to them about priorities in regards to rescue missions while they were working with her agency.

“Your priority is always, first and foremost, any civilians caught in a disaster,” she said, holding up a finger, “and after that, focus on any other Pros that have been caught in the disaster; especially in the circumstance of the disaster being caused by a villain and their Quirk. As Pros, we’re better equipped to handle dire situations for longer than a civilian can. When it comes to this particular line of Hero work, your focus is always going to be doing what you can to save people. Property damage and ass-pats from reporters will come secondary to that.” She reached up with one finger and poked at three long, jagged scars running down the side of her face, starting just an inch below her right eye and curving all the way down to the hinge of her jaw. Her blue eyes lit up with amusement and she flashed them a cheeky grin. “And trust me, if you do your job right, you’ll get lovely little warning signs like these ones here. Warns future villains just what kind of Hell you can unleash and puts the fear of your name in’em!”

Jirou had decided she liked her right then, but Snowdrift just kept providing reasons to enjoy working for her. Unlike with her time working under Genre Hopper, who treated her like a student and kept her on a tight leash, Snowdrift tended to let them take charge more often than not. She gave them their patrol routes, when they were scheduled, and let them take it from there. It was strange for she and Momo to have a Pro outside of their teachers put so much faith and trust in them. “You’re on the cusp of stepping into the business proper,” Snowdrift answered when they asked, skimming through a file they’d brought her and grinning as she did. While on patrol, they'd caught a small gaggle of bank robbers but needed her sign off regarding the arrest since they were still considered students. She tugged a pen out of one of the little pouches on her belt loop, clicked out the tip, and signed off easily. “I trust you understand what that means, or else you two wouldn’t still be in your program. You may still be students, but you aren’t children, so I’m not gonna treat you as such.” She had said, offering the file back over to them with a grin still in place.

For the first few weeks, they mostly dealt with basic patrols. But then they got a call; an unexpected snow storm had started up near a campground where a group of middle schoolers were having a class trip. Snowdrift yanked her thermal cape and clawed gloves on when they got the call before turning to face her staff. “Creati, Earphone Jack, Heat Wave and Earth Shaker, you’re coming with me in Squad 1! Page Editor, I want you to lead Squad 2 and see what kind of recon you can get for us!” she barked out, motioning the others to follow her.

“Yes ma’am,” Page Editor called back, giving a brief salute before turning to call over two other sidekicks to join him.

They headed out in an armored vehicle that had been designed to handle the tough terrain of backwoods and such, as well as being designed to house up to thirty disaster victims. They were within the camp site in a matter of minutes, with Snowdrift and Heat Wave leaping out the second they could see the site up ahead. The snow storm seemed to intensify as the two Heroes made their approach. Earth Shaker took the vehicle up to the site, turning it and backing it closer to the campsite. Jirou and Momo scrambled out with a few thermal blankets in their arms, flocking over to the students clustered around Heat Wave. His Quirk was that he could amplify his own internal temperature to reach high temperatures that he could then channel out through small spouts all over his arms and legs. The middle schoolers were all crowding around him, their teeth chattering as they held their hands up towards the warm air coming off of him.

“Here,” Jirou said, carefully pulling one thermal blanket from her arms and draping it over a nearby student.

“T-Thank you,” she choked out, offering a shaky smile. Jirou nodded, offering a small smile, before darting to help distribute the rest of the thermal blankets. Earth Shaker darted over and clenched her hands to move the ground hidden below the layers of snow, forcing them up and over to form a dirt tunnel. It helped to keep out the chill and keep in some of the heat that Wave was generating.

“Get them into the vehicle and situated immediately; they need to be warmed up something fierce. Page Editor, any word on where this is coming from?” Snowdrift directed, pausing to click the little head set hooked to her ear.

“Well, it’s one of those good news, bad news situations, boss,” Page Editor’s voice chimed over the channel, his voice a little distorted due to either distance or the weather conditions.

“I take it the good news is that you know what’s causing it. Or, rather, who is causing it, but I'm guessing that's also the bad news," she answered, one hand settling on her hip as a small sigh escaped her.

“Bingo. Looks like we’ve got a few of the League’s little lackeys causing this trouble,” he agreed.

Snowdrift let out a swear, kicking at some snow under her paws. “Just great! Anyone of particular note?” 

“There’s the one creating this storm, who has been a bigger player for them for a while now. Looks like that lizard guy who has been running with them since early on is there, too, but other than that they’ve got three untested. Most likely just some bruiser-type lackeys here to play rough if we get too close,” Page Editor explained.

“Any indicators as to what kind of Quirks those three newbies are toting?”

“One of them looks like some kind of minotaur sort of guy; got the horns and a nose ring and everything. The other two just look like high school punks, but nothing too particular to pick up on with them from the distance I'm at. One of them seems real bothered by the cold, though, so that might give us something,”

Snowdrift hummed thoughtfully. “If the League is leading this charge, they have to be up to something. Editor, I want you to send word out to any other agencies in the area for back up. If you can get Hawks, Endeavor, or both of them on the line, they’d be preferred. They may be a showboater and a jackass respectively, but they’re effective and have experience dealing with the League,” she instructed before turning her attention back to her team. She motioned Momo and Kyoka towards her, leaning down a bit and keeping her eyes on the line of evacuating students. “If I had to wager a guess, the League is targeting at least one student here in specific. May be a kid with a particularly remarkable Quirk that they think would be of benefit to them.”

“So we’re going to have to get the kids out of here immediately, and prepare for the League to pursue,” Momo commented.

The older woman smirked and nodded. “Spot on. Heat Wave and Earth Shaker can manage well enough with the vehicle. The two of you have had some run-ins with the League of Villains before, yeah?” she prompted. They both nodded and her smirk widened. “Perfect. The plan is going to be that we hold them at bay. I’m pretty unperturbed by the colder temperature and the sleet, so I’ll see if I can’t dispatch the one making this flurry. I want you two to stay down here and keep the other members of their little posse from going after Wave and Shaker if they make their way down here.”

“Yes, ma’am!” they agreed eagerly.

She chuckled and nodded, moving to stand upright as the earth barrier began to crumble around them. “Take whatever measures you feel are necessary to incapacitate or nullify your opponents; I trust both of your judgment. Remember that your priorities are the civilians and each other, stay alert, and I know you’ll make those villains fear your names. Creati, Earphone Jack,” she said, offering a fond grin before she turned and tore off in the direction of where the heaviest of snow was plummeting down from.

It was less than five minutes later that the three rookie League members arrived.

There was the minotaur character that Editor had warned them about with either of the other two perched on a shoulder. They were both dressed in proper winter attire with wild hair and piercings. One of them had a neon green mohawk that had particularly stiff looking yellow streaks in it. If she wagered a guess, she thought those streaks might actually be something akin to spines since, unlike with just gelled hair, they were completely unfazed by the storm whipping around them. The other’s hair was long and composed of pastel shades of yellow, pink and blue in nonsensical patches. Despite the storm, their hair wasn’t tied back and whipped around them like a colorful flurry, somehow matching well with the manic grin and rusty pipe they were sporting.

“Well hello there, little heroes!” They shouted, hopping off the minotaur’s shoulder and beaming at them. Through their bangs, a pair of violet eyes with a black spiral pattern branching out from the pupil and intermingling with the hue of the iris were visible.

“Who are you calling little?” Kyoka scoffed, carefully moving her feet to be better grounded.

“You don’t seem to be any other than us,” Momo agreed with a small frown of her own.

The villain sneered at them, eyes fixating on the taller of the pair as they responded. “I may be the same age, but I’m nothing like you idiots! I know what the world is really like and I’m ready to tear the status quo of this shitty world to ribbons!”

The other rookie shifted, nudging the minotaur with the heel of their boot. Minotaur seemed to understand the unspoken request and reached out to help them slip down carefully. “Hey, Kie, can we hurry this up? I can’t stand it out here!” they whined out loudly, pitch rising and dragging out their words at the tail end.

Kie, as they were called, snorted and glared at their associate. “Ugh, what kind of man are you, Suoh? So fucking annoying!” they shouted back. They then indicated Minotaur with the flail of one arm. “You don’t see Oda whining like a little bitch! Your sorry ass could stand to take some points from him!”

“Oda doesn’t talk in general. And like you’re one to talk about acting your gender. You’re supposed to be a polite young lady and instead you’ve got a mouth on you that could make an inmate blush,” Suoh groused back quietly, shuddering as he hunched his shoulders in on himself. While the two of them argued, Jirou stole a glance at Yaomomo. The other met her gaze before glancing between the pair, staring particularly at Suoh, and then at Kie purposefully. The two of them had gotten so good at working together that barely a word needed to be exchanged.

She shifted her earlobes down towards her amps discreetly, keeping her eyes trained on them. Oda, as the minotaur man was called, seemed preoccupied with watching his associates as they bickered, the pair ready to come to blows. Kie suddenly jolted to attention and whipped to face them, the black spirals of their eyes turning. “Oda, it’s play time!” she squealed excitedly while pointing at Momo.

Oda perked up before letting out a low snort and running around his associates and heading straight for her. Momo barely had enough time to conjure up a shield for herself before the other was ramming his long, jagged horns towards her. He hit with enough force to dent the shield and send her skidding back through the snow a few paces before she managed to get enough grounded to shove him back and dart over towards Jirou. “Earphone, now!” she shouted as she rushed toward her.

“Cover your ears, boys!” Kie shrieked with manic glee before clamping her hands down over her own just as Jirou’s earlobes connected with the amp. The two did as she said as a loud, rattling sound wave came from her. They didn’t have protective gear that would keep them completely safe, but the forewarning the other had given them certainly helped. When the sound wave died away, Oda shook his head with a small huff, his large ears flicking in irritation. “Pretty shitty that I know what you’re planning to do, huh?” the young villain goaded, cocking her head at them.

“Earphone, I’m pretty sure that-!” Creati started to say between small pants.

“Bingo, sweetie! You’re on the right track!” she mused happily, tapping at her temple.

Suoh rolled his eyes. “Your Quirk isn’t hard to figure out once you start using it,” he groused at her. He then reached up to grab at the stiffer portions of his hair, snapping it and producing a long spike. A part of Jirou was proud to know that her guess had been correct, but her eyes flickered back over to the female. They knew what all three of their Quirks were, now, which did a lot, but that girl, Kie… She posed a very different kind of threat.

It was clear she had some kind of mind reading Quirk. The moving black swirls in her eyes seemed to be an indicator of when she was using it, but they still had no idea what the limitations were on it. How long could she keep that up for? And how far was the reach for it? Was it like Aizawa-Sensei’s Quirk, where she had to have her eyes on the target? Or could she focus on multiple targets at once? She stole a glance over at Momo and could see she was staring Kie down as well. Her brows were knit in frustration, a clear indicator that she was thinking very hard about something.

Kie cocked her head again at Yaoyorozu, letting out a small amused puff. “Do you really think that just reciting your homework over and over will work to beat out my Quirk? You’ll have to think about what you’re doing soon enough, you stupid little bitch,” she growled out lowly, smacking her lead pipe down hard in her other palm.

Jirou’s eyes widened a bit as she looked between her partner and the villains. Momo was painting a target on herself specifically to get them some more answers. From this, Jirou could deduce that she could only handle one target at a time. After all, she’d been focused on Momo from the minute they’d shown up and only took action when, presumably, the other was thinking about their strategy. This must mean that they had some amount of intel about what to expect, had known that one of Creati’s greatest strengths was her ability to strategize. If they took that ability away from her, though, they could try to back them into a corner.

She was snapped from her musings when Oda charged at her, narrowly avoiding him by dodge-rolling off to the side. Oda stood between she and Momo now, head dipped as he readied for another charge. Behind him, she could see Kie’s form making a mad dash from Momo, Suoh moving to join her. She’d been expecting the divide and conquer approach to be the method they picked, given there was more of them with Snowdrift trying to get the other member of their team. So, Jirou thought with a growl, she’d need to get this guy out of the way as quickly as possible to even the odds. Her gaze flicked over to the twitching bull ears on his head. She needed to test her theory to see if it was plausible.

As she dodged two more lunges from the minotaur, she managed to change the settings on the left boot speaker. With that done, she slipped one earlobe into it and sent out a sound current, though this was of a slightly higher frequency. She had tinkered with the idea of finding ways to adjust the pitch of her sound waves to diversify her fighting style a bit. Up until the thought occurred to her, she’d mostly just relied on the volume of the sound to get the job done. She watched as the other’s ears twitched frantically before he shook his head, dark eyes sparking bright with anger.

With that theory tested and proven, she knew how to get him down.

It was a struggle to adjust her setting after that. It seemed he had realized that she was looking for something to exploit to beat him. If it came to a matter of physical strength alone, he’d wipe the floor with her in seconds. And if he kept her playing the dodge game, she wouldn’t be able to enact her plan. She managed to get a few more sound waves off to at least disorient him a bit to try and get the settings up higher, to a more grating level.

But then she heard the distinct thump of metal making contact with skin and stole a glance over just in time to see Momo's form slumping toward the ground. Oda took the chance to rush her again, a snort from him snapping her back to focus. She twisted to move away, but was a step too late, the jagged tip of his horn colliding with the hinge of her jaw and dragging along the bone up to her chin. She had to bite her tongue hard to keep from crying out as her skin was sliced through, the sensation of bone on bone with how deep in he'd gotten agonizing. She spun and hit the ground, taking in a shuddering wheeze as she watched blood pour steadily to paint the snow beneath her, fingers digging into the slish for some kind of support. If she fell over then she'd definitely be done for. He snorted again, moving behind her slightly, but she seized the chance she'd been given.

She whipped around and chucked a sizable stone hidden beneath the snow at him, catching him in the eye and causing him to stumble back with a feral shout. With her other hand, she adjusted the settings one final time, then let out the loudest of the sound waves she could produce. She'd approached Kouda once to ask about ways to ward off animals outside of just volume of a sound. He had suggested she take frequency into account as well, since there were pitches that only animals could hear and that would distress them.

Smug satisfaction coursed through her as the villain stumbled back with a furious shout, reaching up to clamp his hands down over his ears. She took the chance to dart towards him, leaping and digging the heel of her boot right into his head. He hit the ground hard, going as far as trying to burrow his head into the snow to escape the sound, and she gave another two firm kicks to his head.

When he went limp, she whipped around and rushed towards where Momo had been fighting off the other two. Kie had her back to her, lead pipe raised to strike again, and Jirou threw herself into her. She looped her arms around the other's stomach and tossed her aside with all her strength. She hit the ground and went tumbling a few feet away with a series of displeased swears. Jirou whipped around to locate the third one, Suoh, before a jabbing pain seared into her right side. Her body tensed as she glanced down, seeing the villain in question kneeling before her, two of his quills piercing clean through Jirou.

His chest was heaving and blood was dripping from his left temple. His right ankle was also clearly cracked, the foot itself  tilted at an odd angle with gore and bone peeking out. The wrist of the hand twisting the quills into her side was also red and looked swollen, while the left arm was wrapped around his own stomach, clearly trying to soothe some kind of ache as he took in laboured breaths.

Momo had clearly given them Hell before they got her down.

She seized his bad wrist to wretch his grip off the quills and yank him to the side, eliciting a pained shout from him, and slammed the hand speaker on her other hand into the side of his face. She made sure to aim for where she'd seen the blood and swallowed hard when he went limp from the blow. She then turned around, yanking out the quills in her side and lashed out with them. She clipped Kie in the face with them as the other approached.

"You bitch!" Kie screeched, stumbling back a step before making a mad charge at her again.

Jirou anticipated it and braced herself for the impact, the two of them tumbling into the snow in a mess of limbs flailing to land blows. She kept her grip on the quills and managed to pierce one through her attacker's hand, who retaliated by elbowing her in the wound along her jazz. Her vision went white for a split second at the searing pain but she reminded herself that she couldn't give up.

For Momo's sake, she couldn't let this little monster take her down.

They grappled briefly, both worn out from the fight, but Jirou managed to get behind the other and wrap an arm firmly around her neck. "Y-You gonna kill me, Hero?" Kie sneered, clawing at her arm frantically. She dug her nails in hard enough to break the skin, leaving jagged bleeding marks in her wake.

"Putting you down for a fucking nap, you overgrown toddler!" she snapped back, pulling back with more force and using her other arm to help her maintain the hold and pressure. Kie squirmed and thrashed for a little longer, but her movements slowed until she was limp. Jirou shoved her aside, watching her roll face first into the ground. She swallowed hard and the taste of copper tickled the back of her throat.

But, she noted as she took to her feet shakily, the snowstorm had died down. She hobbled her way over to Momo, her movements languid as her the adrenaline coursing in her veins started to dwindle. She fell to her knees beside the other's prone form, cautiously reaching towards her to guide her from her side to her back. There was blood on the side of her head and trickling down the side of her face, as well as some smaller defensive wounds on her arms. Ultimately, though, it was clear she'd been doing well against both opponents until they landed that head blow. She was still breathing, too, which had her breathing much easier herself.

"Little miracles make all the difference," she panted softly, reaching out to gently grip one of Momo’s hands in her own. She then reached up to tap at her headset with her free hand. "Earphone Jack to Snowdrift. Come in, Snowdrift."

There was static for a moment before a small click. "Snowdrift in. How are things on your end, Earphone Jack, Creati?" The Pro's breathing was labored but she sounded pretty composed other than that.

"The three here have been knocked out for easier arrest. Creati and I took a good beating though," she managed to get out, shaking her head as spots started to appear in her vision. She hoped her words didn't sound as slurred to Snowdrift as they did to her. "Creati took a hard blow to the head and is unconscious. I've got a lot of blood loss from some puncture wounds."

"Earphone Jack, I can barely understand you. Are you okay?" Snowdrift asked, voice becoming stiff with concern.

"Lots of blood," she managed to wheeze out, body sagging slightly.

"Wait, blood? Is it yours and Creati's?" she asked frantically. "Shit! Page Editor's on his way down! Hawks, get your sorry ass down there, too! Earphone Jack, stay with me! Keep talking until they get there!"

Jirou tried to open her mouth to answer, but the exhaustion that had been creeping in became too much. She felt her body slump into the snow, barely registering the whine she released as cold snow jabbed into the gouge on her jaw.

"Earphone Jack? Earphone? Damnit, Jirou Kyoka, answer me!"

#crumbles grumbles #MomoJirou #my fics #TW: Violence #TW: Blood #TW: Gore #This was fun but was also challenging #Because I am so meh at fight scenes x3

[witchy-anna]

Play with Fire (Dabi songfic)

Quirk: Homeostasis- the ability to force someone’s body back into its stable condition. Requires physical touch to activate. Examples are regulating the body's blood pressure, heart rate and temperature. Disadvantage: May cause the person to go into shock if the quirk works too quickly.

A/N: I’m going to go with vigilante fem!reader, sorry it took so long Fox! You’re a Doll 😘 Each section is essentially a time skip. 

Warning: cursing (I curse a lot, can’t control my potty mouth)

Taglist: @soldier76sbabygirl

Message to be added to taglist

Insane, inside the danger gets me high Can't help myself got secrets I can't tell

Another string of deaths caused by the serial arsonist. When will it end? The news anchor reads off the prompt with obvious faux concern. Is this another travesty caused by the League of Villains? Find out tonight on the Hero News Network.

You sigh and grumble, “What a crock of shit.” 

A husky voice says close to your ear, “You sound more irritated than concerned.”

Without startling to the closeness you crane your neck around and level a glare at the person intruding in on your space. 

A raven haired man stands close, sunglasses obscuring his eyes and shirt collar pulled high covering the bottom half of his face. How strange. 

You tsk and turn back to the screen now playing an expose on a local pro heroes love life, as if that matters. Gesturing vaguely at the screen you spit out, “They sound so..fake...People are dying and instead they focus on who crawled out of bed with some pro.” 

“This world is so full of suffering, who can blame them for being desensitized to it,” the man says with an oddly cheerful tone.

“I suppose so,” you say but it falls on deaf ears. Gone. 

In other news, the police and pros are still on the lookout for a masked vigilante...You spin on your heels before the news anchor can finish their report. With a quickened pace to trudge another monotonous day of desk work. Fun stuff.

I love the smell of gasoline I light the match to taste the heat I've always liked to play with fire

Another night, another secret patrol, hood pulled high, mask secured, and ass kicking boots laced with vengeance. Monotonous desk job during the day and vigilante at night. 

Illegal being the operative word, the one floating in front of your vision akin to an annoying bug. Following you around each and every night you took off on an excursion.

This night was the same as any other night, some unsuspecting fool thinking they could pull one over on you. Sorely mistaken darling. Your quirk may not be the most suited for combat but you had worked hard to get where you are now. 

Again and again late into your sleepless nights you question why you are doing this. Why pick up what the pro heroes leave behind. 

The words etched into your mind of popular top ranking heroes saying: My quirk isn’t suited for this. Let someone else handle it. Over and over again. 

You want to scream in their face, Neither is mine but you don’t see me giving up!

Bitterness will get you nowhere in life, so instead, you chose to focus that venom on helping those left behind. At least, that’s how it was at first. 

I ride (I ride) the edge (the edge) My speed goes in the red

The concussive shock of an explosion nearly knocks you off your feet. Without a second thought you take off in a sprint to the source. 

“No,” you whisper. Just a moment too late. To slow, what you wouldn’t give for a speed quirk. 

Blue flames roar, reaching and clawing high in the sky. There is the distant scream of sirens signaling their approach. Someone is crying, a wail, a whimper, the harsh dissonance of fear. 

Ash falls like snow, blue and black tinted snow. It’s eerie but strangely beautiful. 

Emergency lights reflect off shattered pieces of glass littering the sidewalk and a single silhouette stands framed by the flames. The wind picks up causing ash and debris to fly everywhere; and almost comically his beat-up coat to flair behind him. 

A dry humorous laugh escapes much to your dismay. What is this an action movie? 

Intense eyes matching the azure flames turns to you, meeting your own (e/c) and rooting you to the spot. A flash of stark white teeth stretches the skin at the corners of his mouth, cut in half by scarred skin. No fear, no panic of being caught. 

“Wait!” you shout, desperation evident in your voice. “Stop!” Something nags at your subconscious, that feeling when you leave the house and your mind insists you forgot something but have no inkling what it could be. 

The man leisurely lifts a hand from his pocket and waves without turning around, disappearing around the corner. A wave that says: Until next time. 

Hot blood (hot blood), these veins (these veins) My pleasure is their pain

Another week passes before you see him again. Lying to yourself, you had dropped everything to sprint to another howling blue fire, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. To save people? Or to...no don’t finish that thought, you grumble internally. 

The stench of burnt flesh makes your stomach churn and you stifle a gag even through your mask. Steeling yourself you search for the source, is it a body or a person in need?

You follow your nose to the source. “Oh,” the word leaves your mouth with barely a sound. Just a puff of air really. 

There he sits, reclined against a trash bin partially hidden in shadows. If not for your keen sense of smell he would have stayed hidden. The smell is strong enough to make your eyes water. He watches you with narrowed luminous eyes, the only thing visible in the dim light. You step closer and he raises an open palm pointed at you, the blue flames dance and kiss his skin.

Steam rises from his skin and he pants, clearly in pain. 

“Your quirk hurts you,” it’s a statement not a question. “Let me help.” 

His eyes narrow to slits before he gives a quick nod and you carefully moved to kneel beside him. The palm with the flame clenches closed to extinguish the flame but stays poised to react if you try anything. He lets out a heavy breath that literally steams the air, he’s overheating.

“I need to touch you,” you warn and slowly reach out your own hands. “I can cool you down.” 

There’s a pause and he nods again, staying silent. Up this close the amount of scarred skin is jarring, as well as the staggering amount of piercings or are they staples? No matter, your hands slowly reach up to cup his cheeks and let your quirk kick to life. The steam rising from his skin slowly dissipates as your quirk works to regulate his temperature, cooling him down to his body's normal level. 

Part of you wonders why he is even letting you touch him so...intimately. His temperature now back to as it should be but your hands remain. 

“Is anyone there?” a stern voice calls from the entrance of the alley causing you to jump. Someone shines a flashlight down the alley, it’s a police officer.

“Leave now,” you hiss to him and stand quickly to move out of the cover of shadow. To the police officer you call out a soft, “Hello?”

His mouth opens as if he wants to say something but snaps it closed. Without a word he stands to leave but not without throwing a curious glance at your retreating form. Mask now gone but he can only see the back of your head, he watches as you put on an act for the police officer.

“Interesting,” he says to no one in particular.  

I love to watch the castles burn These golden ashes turn to dirt

And again, he’s toying with you. This is a game to him. 

It’s a mansion this time, his flames eating up the opulence like a cavity. Eating up the perfect expensive abode and turning it to rot; to ash. “How cliche,” you mutter to yourself. “What an idiot.” 

A low chuckle sends shivers down your spine, “I have a name.”

With a half interested turn of your head, you glance back over your shoulder. “Oh? And why would I care?” Lie.  

Another chuckle, but closer this time. He calls you out on your bluff, “Oh Doll, we both know that’s a lie.” 

Right behind you now. You sense no malice, only curiosity coming from the man. 

Your entire body locks up when you feel the barely there brush of a single callused finger at the base of your neck. It flicks the spot where your mask is tied and a breath of hot air sends goosebumps crawling across your skin.

“Dabi,” he whispers. Another long finger adds to the first, pads whispering against the soft skin of your neck. Heat radiates from both the fire in front of you and the man at your back. He tugs gently enough at your mask tie to not remove it, yet. “Why did you help me?”  

That’s a good question, why did you? Because he’s a pretty face or someone in need, regardless of villain or civilian status. 

You dodge the question, “Why did you let me?”  

“Maybe I just want to unmask a certain little vigilante,” he chuckles again and it vibrates against your back. A single finger slips underneath your mask brushing against your cheek and dips to ghost over your lips and you let him. 

“And maybe you’re just a pretty face,” you say, just a tad breathlessly. 

He hums, “Oh so you think I’m pretty?” He chuckles at the blush creeping over your neck but then curses when there’s a shout about a pro arriving on the scene. 

Dabi says directly into your ear, “Until next time Doll.” Gone.

I've always liked to play with fire Play with fire Fire, fire Oh, watching as the flames get higher Oh, I've always liked to play with (mm)

This time, he finds you. 

“Are you following me?” you ask. It’s quiet where you sat, luckily far away from the view of any passing civilians as he could be easily recognized.

He sits beside you, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankle. “You never answered my question last time,” it’s a statement, ignoring your attempt at deflecting. 

“I- I don’t know,” you admit staring down at your hands as if they hold all the answers. They clench and unclench in your lap. 

You are the antithesis to his sturm and drang. A man who clearly is the type to take what he wants, simply sits beside you, waiting and watching the war going on inside of you. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teases. “It was a simple question.” 

Little did you know at the time it would only take one little push, or rather a gentle pull to flip your already wavering resolve. A hand catching yours, rough calloused thumb rubbing a line across your knuckles distracting you. The other shoots out and releases the tie of your mask before you can react. 

“Maybe I just want the satisfaction of turning a vigilante hero to our side,” he says but spits out the word ‘hero’. 

That’s what you get for letting your guard down. That’s what you get for letting a villain get so close. 

“Get away from me,” you snarl and shoot to your feet. Reaching to yank back the mask he took from you but he keeps a firm grip on it. With a frustrated growl you rip the mask from him and storm off, face lit with a flush. 

A dry raspy laugh sounds from him, and he says those stupid infuriating words again, “Until next time. Doll.”

Right of passage classic maverick Match in the gas tank Ooh that's wretched Unstoppable legendary animals (mm)

Just in time, you find him face to face with a pro, no, it’s a sidekick but dangerous nonetheless. The sidekick is clearly a newbie, shaking slightly in their boots but standing firm against the notorious villain. 

Dabi has clearly overexerted himself again, the steam rises from him in waves, a drip of blood leaves a trail that disappears below the collar of his shirt. 

Both swivel to face you. One pair of stern eyes that immediately recognize you as that vigilante. The other pair of eyes at first looks annoyed at the new addition but then relaxes to an easy expression, one of familiarity. 

There’s a challenge in those azure eyes, asking what will you do? Who will you side with? 

The sidekick starts to advance turning their attention away from you. You sprint, desperate to get to Dabi before the sidekick does. 

Dabi sends out a flare of him fire directly at the sidekick but aims it away from you, over your head. What? Impossibly warm arms close around your waist, shielding you from harm. Again, what? 

A camera flash. At the last second you realize your mask must haven fallen off in the chaos. 

Right time for them; wrong time for you. Shit.

Digital justice Now you're gonna know us

Your face is displayed across tvs, newspapers, online articles, everything. 

Vigilante Hero unmasked. Connections to the League of Villains?

An entirely unflattering picture from your workplace displayed beside the picture from the previous night. You, held in the arms of Dabi. 

Your apartment had already been raided and is being watched by the police. An entire lifetime of stuff out of your reach in an instant. What did you expect to happen with this type of lifestyle anyway? Only the clothes on your back and a long since smashed cell phone tossed into a dumpster. 

You go back to the place where he first took your mask, bearing your naked face to the world. Baring your face to him. 

Hail to the king and queen of the ruckus Yacht Money wired No denying I've always liked to play with fire

“There’s no going back now Doll,” he says in a hushed tone. There is an edge uncertainty hidden under his usual bravado, maybe even vulnerability. 

You shake your head, “Who said anything about going back.”  

Azure eyes meet your own (e/c) and matching grins split both of your faces. Rough callused fingers slip into your palm and twine through your fingers, tugging until your nose to nose. His tongue darts out to taste the ash stuck to his scarred lip, it floats all around you both like a gentle but haunting snowfall. 

“No going back now,” you repeat the sentiment before sealing your now flipped resolve with a kiss.

I've always liked to play with fire

#witchy-anna writes #dabi songfic #Dabi x reader #dabi is a todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #i love this dang song #I listen to it on repeat #i am not at all consistent with the section lengths oh well