Latest Posts by annarobszombies - Page 9

Texts between Senku Ishigami and Odie Snyder [sent 5.07.2018 between 2:07 and 2:15 AM California time]

To the Moon and Back, out now on ao3

-Hey Sen, you busy rn?

-Thought you went to bed early tonight.

-I tried, but I can’t sleep.

-Never had that problem

-Yeah yeah yeah I know.

-Ever tried counting sheep?

-No I simply lay here and suffer

-Sounds like you

-Call me.

-One sec

[The log shows a phone call lasting 3 hours and 48 minutes]

"Why do you like Senku so much?"

Because he reminds me a lot of myself in the sense that he's gone through a number of traumatic events and is loves his friends to the point of being self destructive while disguising his deeper emotions with sarcasm and faux selfishness

Also, his dumb little face

@anafanjestic I hope you're happy, Senku has PTSD now

The first few chapters of To the Moon and Back are finally out on ao3

One,

Two,

Three,

His eyelids were heavy.

Four,

Five,

He couldn’t afford to sleep right now.

Six,

Seven,

Eight,

If he does, then-

His eyes snap open, heart hammering hard in his chest. He stares exhaustedly up at the sky, ears straining for any kind of sign that someone had followed him, but found nothing but that now familiar, dreadful quiet. What was he even doing out here? Everyone was celebrating, he’d just gotten to hear Byakuya’s last message on the glass record, he should be somewhat at ease now. But he wasn’t, so he’d taken a walk to try and clear his head a little.

The need to sleep had hit him the moment he sat on the ground and leaned back on the fallen tree, his body heavy from the weight of everything happening. But when his eyes started to slide closed, his first instinct was to count, to force himself to stay awake.

Damn it, first he was begging for sleep in the silent stone world, and now he’s scared to? Maybe it was because he was alone right now that had him so worked up. 

Solitude never bothered him before, though he supposed that this new trait of his probably had something to do with the 3,700 years spent in total isolation. The human brain’s reaction to trauma really was something, but he didn’t think now was the time to develop an anxiety disorder.

I mean come on look at this dumb little face

this is not the face of a man who has gotten a proper nights sleep. those eyes are filled with mania. someone get him a blankie and some warm tea

All the fun Senku is having right now is due mostly to delirium caused by exhaustion no you cannot change my mind I know he's hype about science but that boy hasn't slept in weeks you're telling me a sane man came up with the idea to build cell phones, cars, and a rocket ship to the moon? False, he needs a 12 hour nap at least.

To the Moon and Back Prologue & first couple chapters are finally posted on AO3

In celebration: Senku's first stone world letter.

O,

It's the end of April in the year 5738 A.D. 

I don’t know what happened, but I’m going to figure it out using science. 

I’m going to rebuild and save everyone. Including you, I swear.

All the fun Senku is having right now is due mostly to delirium caused by exhaustion no you cannot change my mind I know he's hype about science but that boy hasn't slept in weeks you're telling me a sane man came up with the idea to build cell phones, cars, and a rocket ship to the moon? False, he needs a 12 hour nap at least.

How funny would it be if my dr stone oc was Stanley's younger sister (long estranged due to plot reasons) which leaves her feeling guilty for not trying to stop him from shooting Senku, feeling like it is somewhat her fault for not talking to Stan about literally anything but why would she he left her behind to rot in that hellhole by herself-

anyway...

Regarding my in-progress Dr STONE fanfiction:

idk it sounds fun to me and I still might do it anyway

I saw someone say that Senku probably counts to keep from falling asleep out of pure anxiety and I can't find the post now but how fucking dare you put that idea in my head while I'm trying to write a fanfiction.

It's bad enough he's horrendously touch starved and desperately lonely.

The first chapter of my Senku x OC fic To the Moon and Back is almost done. Have a treat

-

It's not the first thing he does. It's not even the second or third. No, Senku has to wait until he's at least vaguely able to survive on his own first and foremost. No point in doing extra work if he couldn’t feed himself.  

He considers for a long time how best to make it work with his limited skills and usable materials. He wasn’t especially strong, nor did he have the time to spend hours upon hours on something like this. In the end, he decides on carving tablets out of leftover wood that would otherwise be used as tinder for a fire, which he knows he’ll have plenty of as soon as the oaf finally wakes the hell up. The biggest problem would be preservation and weight, but he’d deal with that later.

It was nothing new to him to stay awake well into the night working on something, but this task was particularly gruelling. After all, what did you say to someone after taking a 3,700 year long nap? 

I haven't released the fic yet, but here's another little thing for Senku and the OC I wrote for him

The first time Senku sees her, it's a picture swiped from a picture frame she claims no one will notice missing. It's a group photo, and her letter challenges him to guess which one of the four girls she was.

He picks her out instantly.

He doesn't know too much about her yet at this point, but from what little he does know, he's certain the girl who looks like she sleeps far less than was healthy was his Odie.

When he sends his response, along with a photocopy of the picture with her face circled in bright red marker, he makes the point to tell her that she should take more naps, joking that she looked worse than he did after staying up all night working on his rocket.

Hard to do when there's so much noise in my house.

He doesn't quite understand what that means until a few months later, during one of their first phone calls.

Senku was only human, and even he got tied up in emotions sometimes.

Some idle thoughts about our super nerd and his feelings for the OC I wrote for him while I work on the fanfiction I dreamt about

The thing about Senku that I think gets ignored due to his...winning personality, is that while he seems uninterested in relationships, he's really...not. He's just focused on making sure humanity can survive in the new stone world, a task he has given himself for a multitude of reasons. This may be an unpopular opinion, but I don't think Senku doesn't feel romantic/physical attraction to other people, I think he's just currently hyperfocused on things he deems more important.

Which, lets be real here, saving the world is a little more important than getting with the love of your life. He'll save that sappy shit for Taiju for now, and once everything is said and done, then he'll worry about it.

It's a very logical thing to do, and Senku is nothing if not logical. Most of the time, anyway.

Now, with those thoughts out of the way...

Senku knows he's not bad looking.

I mean yeah, he's not perfect, but he's handsome enough. He's had girls confess to him before, but he's always turned them down for one reason or another.

"Sorry, I don't have time for stuff like that," Is his usual go-to rejection. He tries to let them down easy, but not give any room for hope. Plus, it's 95% honest, which is the best he can do. I mean, he's running all over the world, studying any and everything he possibly can! Who has time to text, call, or write letters to someone every day , I mean come on. In order to do that, he'd have to have memorized the time differences between all the places he's been, and the person he's contacting. Who in their right mind-

“What time is it for you?”

“9:30 PM.” 

“That puts you, what, sixteen hours ahead of me?”

“Something like that, yeah. It’s Friday night for me.” 

“Lucky.”

---

Odie is the exception to every rule.

She's bad tempered and mouthy, but she's also always willing to sit and listen to him talk for as long as he wants without complaint.

She likes to hear him talk, likes to lay in her bed in the wee hours of the morning, and listen to him explain some of the most complex subjects ever conceived while he's having a late dinner at his desk. There are even days where she asks him to just pick a subject and go, regardless of whether or not she understands a single piece.

He knows, somewhere deep down, that she does things like that as a distraction from what's happening to her on the other side of the world (he can hear it in the way her voice shakes), but hey, he likes to talk about science and she's an active listener. It's a win-win in his book, and she's never once argued with him on it.

It's a comfortable platonic relationship, one that comes shockingly easy. Even in the beginning, when it was just one or two sentence letters passed back and forth over hundreds of miles when they were just thirteen years old.

When he realizes he might like her in a more romantic way, he just kind of accepts it. It's one of many natural progressions of human relationships. It happened with Taiju and Yuzuriha, and with plenty of other pairs he's known through the years.

However, being in love is still kind of a big deal, and he spends an embarrassingly long time thinking about whether or not his realized feelings will change how he acts around her. He genuinely worries, for a solid 2.765 seconds, that he's going to end up like Taiju.

But when his phone pings with a text, he realizes that all his worrying was useless. Odie was his friend, his confidant, and someone he trusted to an almost insane degree. Who cared if he was in love with her? It barely changed anything for him. He was a scientist first and foremost, and she was his friend. Plus a researcher in her own right...when she wanted to be, anyway.

The last texts between Senku and his long distance crush friend

-Get some sleep. Next time we talk, I’ll have something cool to show you.

-Promise?

-Sure, but only if you stop bothering me so I can work

She doesn’t respond.

He doesn’t think about it, after all, why would he? It was late in the States (or early, depending on who you asked), so she was probably already turned over and dozing. And if not, she was about to be. It doesn’t occur to him for a moment that anything could be wrong, not for a few thousand years, anyway.

Dreams about fanfictions I havent thought of or written yet are a trip like what do you mean I could be writing a Dr. Stone fic where Senku had a pen pal in America that was supposed to be for a dumb English lesson in middle school but ended up vibing with enough to keep writing for the next few years? What do you mean he could have been planning on going out to meet her after he graduated and since the world got petrified has been so sure she's waiting for him in stone somewhere and how that kinda hurts a lot so let's just not think about it and focus on saving the world with science except oops now we're here and what do you mean she's unpetrified and has been trying to get to Japan to save him this whole time?

...

Anyway if anyone needs me for the next 6-10 business weeks I'll be drowning in my own emotions over a super nerd and his oc girlfriend.

Boss: I looked at your computer while you were away from the desk

Me, an author: You fucking WHAT

I think the worst punishment the gods can give is making an author have absolutely zero drawing talent like what do you mean I can imagine what they look like in my head but I can't put it on paper because I can't draw a straight line this is bullshit.

A little Dabi x Reader thing for my thoughts from earlier.

MDNI

Kids are a complicated thing for him, in all honesty. He was the result of a man who had married his wife for the sole purpose of having children so that he could prove that he was better than everyone else. He watched his mother go through pregnancy three more times after him, and saw what that did to her. To everyone. Especially when his bastard of a father deemed each one of them a failure and demanded another.

He is also afraid. Afraid that his child will end up with a quirk like his, one that is so horribly powerful that it hurts to use, and could kill the child. He's afraid that he's more like his father than he wants to be, and he thinks for the longest time that he'd rather castrate himself than do that to another person.

As he starts to realize his wants and needs both in bed and in a relationship in general, however, he realizes that he wants to stuff his partner so full of cum that there was no avoiding the inevitable despite protection. He wants to get her pregnant. He wants to breed.

It makes him sick, for a long time. Even once he's found you, his everything, he refuses to bring it up. He keeps the disgusting thoughts to himself lest he end up pressuring you like Endeavor pressured his mother.

He's still not sure whether you said something first, or if he was just so drunk on the high of fucking you that he just blurts it out, but suddenly you're wrapping your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles together to keep him buried in your pussy, and you beg him for it. For him to cum inside, to stuff you full of his seed so you can give him a child consequences be damned.

And when those two little pink lines appear on the test a few weeks later, he decides that even if his plans end up with him getting himself killed instead of his father, the most fucked up thing he could do was make sure he left something of himself behind to finish the fucking job.

Dabi x Reader Oneshot

I was gonna put this on ao3 but I decided you all can have it instead.

Dabi tries to break up with you.

Loving someone like him wasn’t easy, he was a man of contradictions. He could be cagey and distant one day, clingy and obsessive another. There were days he’d say barely two words to you, and days he’d talk until his throat couldn’t take any more. But there was at least one thing that he was consistent on: 

Dabi didn’t lie.

If you asked him something he couldn’t-or just didn’t want-to answer, he’d either stay silent, or tell you that it wasn’t your business. Things like that included his work with the League, and his identity or past. Even if you pushed him on it, he’d clamp his jaw shut and turn away from you. You’d asked him once, why he didn’t just tell you something, even if it wasn’t true. You’d reminded him that it wasn’t like you’d know if he was lying, so what was the harm? 

“I don’t like liars,” Is all he’d said, and you’d had no choice but to accept it. You appreciated his truthfulness, knowing well just how easy it was for a man to lie to you just to keep in your good graces. Dabi was not afraid of telling you the truth, even if it hurt or made you angry. 

And that’s what makes tonight so strange. 

There was something in the way he stood, stiff yet overly relaxed, that clued you into something not being quite right. Then he refused to look you in the eye, which was definitely strange for him. He may not always look at you directly while speaking, but he was never the type to go to any great length to avoid your gaze. And tonight, his eyes were everywhere but on you, no matter how hard you tried to meet them. And on top of all that, nothing he was saying even made sense to you. 

He’d lived in your home, eaten your food, given you any and everything he could, told you over and over again for the last year that he loved you. And now he was breaking up with you? 

No, something was wrong here. Very, very wrong. 

“Dabi,” You say his name slowly, carefully. “Can you just…tell me what’s going on?”

“I am telling you,” He says, tone far too strained to be natural. 

“Not…not really.” 

“It’s just not working.”

“What isn’t working?” 

“Us.” 

“What about us?” 

He lets out a hard sigh, your name mumbled from his lips. His eyes flit to yours for the barest second before they find the far wall again. 

“We don’t fit,” He says, and for the first time in this entire conversation, he sounds honest. 

“Says who?” You ask with a careful step forward. You reach out to touch him, hands gently grazing the front of his shirt before resting on his chest, soaking in his warmth through your fingertips. He doesn’t flinch at your touch, doesn’t lean away. If anything, he presses himself closer, his body much more truthful than his words.

“Says everyone.” 

You frown, pushing yourself closer by just another step. Your hands slide up his chest to caress his face, forcing him with gentle hands to look at you. He looks like he’s in pain. 

“Dabi,” You say his name again, catching how he subtly flinches at the sound of it. “My love-” 

He rips away from you, shoving you hard backwards in the process. It’s such a sudden action that you’re unable to catch yourself before tumbling to the ground, hissing in pain when your ankle twists the wrong way. Traitorous tears fill your eyes and threaten to fall from your lashes as you look up at him from your new spot on the ground. The way he looks back at you can only be described as abject horror. 

“No-fuck-I-” He vacillates between reaching for you and backing further away, unsure of what to do with himself now. “Shit.” 

His breathing is coming hard, eyes blown wide. One hand digs into his hair, pulling at his scalp, the other scratching at the staples in his face, almost like he was trying to tear them out. Your breath catches in your throat when you realize that he’s having a panic attack. 

You say his name, but he doesn’t hear you. His eyes are unfocused, his chest heaving. He manages to stumble back one more step before hitting the far wall and going still. You take that as your chance to move, scrambling up and limping over to him slowly, hands outstretched to take hold of him as soon as he’s within distance. When the first drops of blood hit your floor, you move faster, launching yourself forward heedless of how badly your ankle hurts. 

“Hey, hey,” You keep your voice low, grabbing at his wrists and trying to pull them away from his hair and face. He’s shaking, even harder than the days when he stumbles home overheated and overtired. He’s looking at you, but you aren’t sure he’s really seeing you. 

You coax him into sitting on the floor with you, letting him stay with his back pressed into the wall while you knelt in front of him. You’ve managed to pry his hands away from their self-destructive task and now hold them close, pressing them gently against your own chest so that he can feel your heartbeat and steadier breathing. 

“I’m okay,” You murmur softly, trying to keep your face neutral at the sight of his bloodied face. He’d managed to get a few staples out, causing new wounds in the process. “It’s going to be okay.” 

You wrack your brain for what to do now. There was no promise that this pause in self harm wouldn’t start back up at the wrong word or movement. Dabi was stronger than you, if he wanted to pull away from you and dig his fingers into his skin until he bled all over, he very well could, and though you’d resist, he’d definitely win that fight. There had to be something you could do, something that would shake him out of his fog just enough for you to bring him back to reality, without making it worse than it already was. 

“Do you think All Might would win in a fight against a mantis shrimp?” You blurt, surprising you both. Dabi looks at you, blinking slowly.

“I mean,” You continue. “Mantis shrimps can punch super hard, right? Like they can really fuck someone up despite being so little. But since All Might is also, like, the strongest in the world, would that make it a fair fight?” 

The corner of his lips turns upwards, light slowly returning to his eyes, and you just keep going. 

“They have to be in special cases when in captivity, cause otherwise they’ll break out. Did you know that they can punch so fast that they boil the water around them? And they do this totally naturally. They evolved to be able to do that. What kind of predators do these things have?” 

“All Might…” His voice is hoarse. “Apparently.”

You grin at him, snickering a little. He lets out a huff of air, something similar to a laugh but not quite. 

“The shrimp would win,” He says.

“Oh, one hundred percent.” Now you’re both laughing, really, properly laughing. His shoulders hunch, head dropped down, but his torso shakes with his amusement nonetheless. 

You take a breath, calming yourself a bit and observing your partner. His breathing was still a bit labored, and his eyes still had a faraway look to them, but he seemed to be back in the here and now, at least for the moment. Whatever had triggered his episode, whether it had been the argument, him pushing you over, or both, seems to have floated from his mind momentarily. You had no doubt you’d need to be prepared to talk him through it all once he was back to being fully himself. 

For a moment, you think you see who he could have been, if whatever had happened to him hadn’t happened. You could imagine him with brighter eyes, a bigger grin not suppressed by scars and staples. He was already perfect to you, but your heart ached for him. For the him that was lost to his past. 

“I love you,” You say. 

He looks at you for a long moment, his laughter dead in his chest. He pulls one hand away from your chest, and lifts it to caress your face. His thumb runs a soothing line along your cheekbone, twitching a bit when he spots the drying blood he’s accidentally rubbing into your skin. 

“I know,” He mumbles.

You want to crack a joke at him, but it doesn’t come out. Instead, the tears return, this time spilling over your lashes and soaking your face. There was such a finality in his tone, one that made you think that maybe this was all real, that he wasn’t lying, and he really was going to leave and never come back. You can feel your heart shattering with every second he doesn’t say anything else, with every second he just holds you in his hand and watches you cry. 

He couldn’t do this to you, not after all the endless nights and early mornings. Not after all the hours spent with his body connected to yours, branding you from the inside as his. He couldn’t just break you after he’d finally put you back together. 

You push his hand away and wipe at your eyes, trying your hardest to control your breathing and calm down. You had to finish this conversation calmly, you had to make sure he was okay. It felt horribly selfish to sob like this after he’d just been the one in a full blown panic attack. You needed to stop, to stifle your emotions until he left so that his last memory of you wasn’t this. 

“Are you…are you okay, now?” You ask with a shaky voice. This was probably the calmest you were going to be at the moment. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m good,” He says.

The world feels like it’s tilted sideways, nothing going the way you wanted it to. You were supposed to be having dinner, curled on your couch next to the man you adored more than you ever thought you could. He’s supposed to have an arm draped around you, not quite holding you but still keeping you close to him. There is supposed to be a shitty movie playing on the TV that the two of you make fun of together between idle kisses and steamy touches. It wasn’t fair.

“I love you,” You can’t stop yourself. “So much.” . 

“I know, baby,” He repeats his own words, reaching to brush hair from your tear-soaked face. He looks like he wants to say something else, but his jaw clenches, silencing himself before he lets whatever it is spill from his lips. 

So the two of you sit on the floor of your apartment in heavy silence. 

Your ankle throbs under you, reminding you of the tumble you’d taken just a moment ago. That seemed to be what had set him off, the more you think about it. He’d been calm when informing you that he was leaving you, and even when you argued with him about it. But it had been when he pushed you, and you got hurt, that he’d crumpled. 

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” You manage to mumble. 

“You didn’t,” He says just as softly, and you know from the look on his face that he’s not talking about his panic attack. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Can you just make something up?” You know you sound pathetic, pleading with him like this, but you can’t help it. “Please, I don’t care if it’s something stupid. I just…I need to know that you have a reason for leaving. Something I can be mad about so this doesn’t hurt so much!” 

He sighs your name with a shake of his head. 

“I can’t.”

“Hah…” You shift and stand, trying not to put too much weight on your injured foot. “What was it you were saying to me earlier? That we don’t fit? Is that really what you want to stick with? What you want me to remember?” 

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, standing now as well. 

“Anything!” You yell, throwing your hands in the air. 

“Like what?!” He yells back, taking a step towards you, invading your space. 

“Tell me that I’m annoying! Tell me that I talk too much, or that I’m messy, or stupid! Lie to me! Or be honest and tell me that you don’t love me!” 

You think he’s stopped breathing, you’ve never seen him so still. It feels like standing in a silent forest, horrible and unnatural and frightening. 

“Is that…what you think?” His voice is low, almost deadly. “You seriously think. That I’m doing this because I don’t love you?” 

“Unless you tell me otherwise, then-”

“Are you stupid?” 

The sudden, vicious anger in his words startles you, all words dying on your tongue as you just stare at him in surprise, your own frustration burning through your body. What gave him the right to sound like that when he was the one who started all this? 

You start to say his name, but one of his hands flies up to cover your mouth, just like he’d done when you’d babbled at him on the first night you met. 

“I’m doing this because I love you. Because being with me is dangerous for you, and I can’t fucking sleep at night anymore thinking about what could happen if someone finds out about you. It’s bad enough that heroes have been sniffing around this neighborhood recently, but if another villain gets their hands on you? Because of me?”

With his hand over your mouth, you can’t say anything. Though, even if you were free to, you’re not sure how you’d even respond to him at all. 

“You make me want to give up on everything. And I swear, if you asked, I’d do it. I’d give up on the revenge that I rightfully fucking deserve just to make you happy, because I can’t stand the idea that what I do could make you miserable.” 

His breathing is hard and angry, eyes wide and wild, and yet not for a single moment do you worry that he could hurt you. He’d scared you for a moment, sure, but now that you were really processing his words, you realize you had no reason to feel that way. He wasn’t angry with you. He hasn’t been this whole time. 

You lift your hands to gently take hold of his wrist, tugging on him to signal that you wanted to speak. His eyes narrow at you, but he allows his palm to be pried from your mouth, and moved to press into your cheek. You make him stand like that for a long time, letting yourself just digest everything he’s said. 

There were a hundred and one things you could say in response to him, but none of them really felt right. Telling him you loved him wouldn’t do much, telling him you understood would be a lie. Allowing him to leave was a big no-go, but brushing this all under the rug felt even worse. When you finally settle on what to say, you’re careful to do it slowly.

“You know…I don’t know that much about you,” You say. “I don’t know why your revenge is so important, I don’t know what kind of people you deal with or have made angry that might try to hurt me. And I don’t know why you pushing me over sent you so over the edge.” 

You look up at him, letting go of his wrist in favor of reaching for his face, to caress it the way he stayed caressing yours. 

“But, I still want you here. I want to love and be loved by you, regardless of if it means that I have to be a little extra vigilant. I don’t care if I have to practice what to say if a hero comes to the door, I don’t care if I have to be ready to jump out the window with you because you need to run and you don’t want to leave me behind. You being a villain, and having enemies, all that doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that you come home at night, that you remember things about me when I tell them to you, even in passing, and that you’re alive. You don’t even have to be safe, if you can’t promise that. Just come home with enough pieces that I can put you back together.” 

He huffs, pulling away but not too far, and covers his face. His shoulders shake and it takes you a moment to realize he’s laughing at you. Your face flushes, a touch of embarrassment making you anxious and antsy. 

Then, he mumbles something. 

“Wh-what?” You ask.

“I can’t cry,” His voice is soft, muffled by his hands but now just loud enough to hear. 

“Huh…?” 

“My face is too fucked up.” 

“Your face isn’t…it’s not-” 

“Baby,” He drops his hands, looking at you with tired eyes and a lopsided grin. “I know what I look like.” 

You let his self deprecating comment slide, just this once. 

“Do you want to cry?” You ask, instead. 

“Right now? A little bit.” 

You pull him impossibly close, one arm around his neck, hand petting the back of his head, the other up under his arm to grip his shoulder from behind. He buries his face into your neck, arms wrapping around you as tightly as he could without hurting you, and the two of you just stand like that for a while. 

You hiss involuntarily when he leans on you a little too hard, your ankle protesting the extra weight. The sound has him jerking away, eyes wide and full of worry. His expression was so foreign to you it was almost laughable. But it was honest, that much you knew. 

“I’m okay,” You say. “I think I rolled my ankle when I fell-” 

“Fuck, baby, I-” He cuts himself off, taking a breath before continuing. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know,” You say. 

“Let me look at it.” 

You let him lead you to the couch and sit you down, kneeling at your feet so that he can take the injured one into his hands. He bends and twists it slowly, gauging your reactions, muttering soft apologies every time you wince or let out a pained noise. 

“Should ice it,” He says. “Prop it up, don’t use it for a couple days.”

“Yes sir,” You can’t stop yourself from teasing him a bit, grinning ear to ear when he levels you with a dangerous look. 

“Watch it, baby. I just narrowly avoided losing you. I’m wound up enough.” 

“Oh?” You lean forward a bit. “I think we’re both a little wound up.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

He gathers you in his arms and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you squealing and laughing into the bedroom, where he dumps you on the mattress and follows quickly after. He spends the rest of the night kissing you all over, hands refamiliarizing themselves with your body. His teeth leave marks along your shoulder and chest, and the wall ends up with a burn mark from him getting a little too excited. 

This was how things should be.

-

He’s always awake before you, but this was the first time he really laid here like this, looking at you. He watched as the first rays of sunlight stream through the tiny gap in the curtains, illuminating your face in a way he’s sure he’s never seen before. He traces a finger along your features, smiling a bit to himself when your eyebrows furrow, but you don’t wake. 

He, admittedly, feels bad for taking you to bed and being so rough when you were already hurt. He also never explained to you why him hurting you affected him so. To be fair, he hadn’t realized that something like that could bother him. Not after all the people he’d hurt and killed over the past several years. 

But seeing you on the floor, because of him? Hurt by his hands? It had made him feel disgusting, like a monster. It was that moment that he realized that he really was as bad as he’d told himself he was. That everyone told him he was. Everyone but you, that is. 

It cemented in him that his revenge couldn’t be put on hold, because if anyone took you away, it would be his father.

“You have no idea,” He whispers to your sleeping form. “What I’d do for you.” 

You let out a soft, sleepy hum. His first sign that you were really starting to wake up.

“Do you even realize what I would do to this fucking country if I lost you?” He keeps his voice low. “There wouldn’t be anything left. I’d burn it. Do you understand? I’d burn the whole fucking world to ashes, and no one would be able to stop me.”

“Promise?” One eye cracks open, and he’s honestly not sure you actually heart the whole of what he’s said, nor does he think you understood in your mostly-asleep state. 

“Cross my heart, baby.” 

You sigh, giving him another happy, sleepy little hum, and snuggle closer to him. 

“I love you,” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head. 

“Mm…I know.”

Me: I'm writing for myself, I started this fanfic for myself, and because I have a passion for writing

Also me: *doesn't get new comments in a week* Fuck, I should just quit right now

Touya Todoroki has a breeding kink and literally no one can change my mind thank you goodbye

Tomura Shigaraki has OCD

Tomura Shigaraki has OCD

Tomura Shigaraki has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Tenko Shimura compulsively scratches whenever put under high stress situations, meaning its a soothing action not a logical one

Beginning Nights now on AO3

Dabi x Reader MDNI

Enjoy the preview:

God this sucks. You were cold, wet, and miserable, but as your gaze catches another lonely soul making his own march in the rain, you’re at least glad you’re not the only one. All you can see is the back of him, but he gives you something new to look at. 

He’s tall, even with his shoulders hunched, head dipped down to keep the rain from falling off the hood covering his hair and getting all in his face. His coat looked tattered, but serviceable, and there was no way in hell his socks weren’t as wet as yours were, even with the thick boots he wore. Something about him stirs your heart, even if you can’t see his face, or any of his features. You wonder if it’s just your own want to not be alone anymore today that has you speeding up a little, hoping to catch the only other figure walking the rainy streets. 

As you get closer, a part of you warns that this person could be a villain. That he could hurt or kill you for getting too close to him. But another part of you just doesn’t care. After the day you’ve had, death would just be a welcome change. At least then you’d get to either go to the afterlife, or start over fresh, rather than be stuck in misery. Besides, even villains have shitty days, and maybe you’ll get lucky and he won’t mind you bothering him for a few minutes. 

His eyes are on you the moment you finally catch up to him, sharp blue irises somehow both icy and burning all at once. You don’t say anything, trying instead to look as casual as possible, instead of like a crazy person who’d just chased him down just for a modicum of company. But the longer you’re silent, the harder it gets to even try to speak up. Especially now that you can actually sort of see him, and the recognition that settles in your gut has your tongue too heavy to move. 

All you really needed to see was the flash of metal and the scarring on his jaw to know who he was. You’d seen him all over the news for weeks, the image of his wild and wicked face had been burned into your memory by now. But for such a notorious villain, Dabi seemed…

Tired.

Just a taste of something

Dabi x Reader MDNI

You catch him out of the corner of your eye barely a breath before his hand slides around your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t threaten. He just holds it there, rubbing the column of your throat with his thumb lightly while staring down at you.

He tilts his head to the side when you stare up at him, lips slightly agape. His hand is cooler than it had been before; you think he must have taken a cold shower to soothe his constant feverishness. He doesn’t look angry, not in any way that makes you worry about him causing harm. But he does look annoyed, perhaps at being ignored for too long, almost like a cat.

“End the call.” His voice is too low to be caught by the microphone, the tone of it sending shivers down your spine. 

“I’ve gotta go,” You say immediately. 

“What? No, I’m not done-” The way Dabi’s eyes narrow tells you that he can hear your ex complaining from where he stands, still holding you by the neck. 

“I don’t care,” You pant, face burning red.

“Baby-” The hand around you twitches, fingers closing slightly to squeeze you ever so gently, fiery blue eyes narrowing even further. Dabi hadn’t liked hearing that word. 

You don’t say anything else, refusing to give any more attention to your ex when it was clearly aggravating the man in front of you. Instead, you just hang up and let your phone clatter to the floor, uncaring as to if the screen cracks. 

Dabi lets out a low hum, pleased, but doesn’t release you. He slides his hand up your throat to hold your jaw instead, tilting your head back slightly, humming again at how easily you let him handle you. 

“Boyfriend?” He asks, leaning down to ghost a kiss over your lips. 

“Ex,” Your panted correction earns a real kiss, his lips pressing firmly against yours. 

“Good. I don’t need the competition,” he murmurs.

You want to tell him that he has no competition; that your ex was your ex because he’d cheated and royally screwed any chance of recovering the relationship, but you’re not really sure Dabi cares. Not when he kisses you again, even harder this time, his hand falling from your jaw to join the other in grasping at your hips, pushing you backwards. You dare to reach for him, fingers finding purchase in the front of the borrowed t-shirt. You cling to him when the backs of your legs hit the arm of the couch, almost falling onto it. 

He tugs at your shirt with a mumbled demand to take it off, hands groping at your chest the moment you’re exposed to him. You hadn’t considered having company when you’d foregone the bra this morning, but you were happy you had. His palms are rough, staples scraping across your much softer skin. His touch has you panting, knees parting so that he can slide himself between them, pulling you both impossibly closer to each other. It would occur to you later, that he kissed you like he needed you to breathe. Like you were his only lifeline, and he had no plans of letting go any time soon. 

At the moment, however, you’re easily distracted.

A little piece of my oc meeting Izuku for the first time.

"What the fuck?" Her body jerks to a stop, eyes narrowing. "Gods in the sky, you're a child."

Izuku startles a little, blinking at the woman he was so certain was a villain. Slowly, her face morphs from annoyed to a genuine concern. She looks worried for him.

"Are you alright?" She steps closer, heedless of how he stiffens in response, prepared for her to attack when his guard is down. Instead, his face is taken between two soft, chilled hands, his head tilted back and forth as she inspects for damage.

"Wh-wha-"

Her hands move from his face to his shoulders, stepping back once to scan the rest of his body, eyes pausing briefly at every bruise or singed piece of fabric. The longer she looks, the more lines seem to appear on her face as her concern grows.

Then, slowly, anger fills her face as she finally realizes just what's going on, her grip on her shoulders near bruising, nails digging through his hero costume like flimsy paper.

"You shouldn't be in a place like this," She says, voice tight. "Who let you do this?"

"I-" "Who let you come out here and get hurt?!"

Izuku jumps, goosebumps covering his flesh at the anger and protectiveness in her voice. She must notice how his eyes widen, how he shrinks back the slightest bit, and her grip loosens, the concern washing back over her face.

"Oh, no, I'm not upset with you," She coos at him, much softer now. Her hands smooth over his shoulders, rubbing away the stinging pain from how tightly she'd held him.

She looks like his mom, he thinks. Despite the fact that she's clearly younger, the way her lips are turned downward, eyebrows pinched together, voice and touch much more gentle than before, all of it feels so painfully motherly. It felt like when he visited home. All that was missing was the teary hug and the pleas to be safer. Though, something tells him if he asked for it, she'd pull him in and pet his hair and tell him that everything was alright. It has his throat closing up, his heart clenching hard in his chest. Great, now he wanted to cry.

"How badly are you hurt?" She asks.

"I'm okay," He mumbles. It was an odd feeling, having a villain parent him like this.

"Good. Come with me, I'll take care of you."

He's not sure if it's her quirk, if he's curious, or if he's just that desperate for respite, but he follows her when she ushers him along. A part of him knows this is probably a really bad idea, that just moments ago he'd been fighting her as a hero. She could easily take advantage of his dropped guard and attack again. But, even still, he wanted to believe that she was being genuine. That the moment she'd realized he was student, she'd stopped because she truly was worried for him, and wanted to make sure he was alright.

It was confusing, his mind was a mess and the others were definitely going to yell at him later, but he still goes.

A soft thing for Dabi

It's in the quiet of night, so late that neither of you should be awake, that the words escape you.

"It wasn't your fault."

They're whispered, so softly that you don't even realize you spoke them aloud until his head lifts from your chest to look at you with tired, confused eyes.

"Hm?" He nuzzles his nose into your chin, peppering soft kisses into your haw.

"It's nothing," You say softly. He takes your words at face value, or at least he seems to. Whether it's because he's not fully awake, or because he just trusts you that much, you'll never be sure. He just lays his head back down, resting his head against your chest once again.

What would he think, if you told him exactly what you were thinking? What would he think, if you told him that everything that's happened to him to make him the way he is now wasn't his fault? That it wasn't his choice to be born, to have a father like Endeavor who treated him so poorly he snapped at such a young age. That there had been no reason for him to burn himself alive over and over again just to prove a point that never should have needed to be made in the first place.

It wasn't his fault. He'd been a child. He never should have had to endure any of it.

But, like always, you keep your mouth shut. You hold him tighter, kiss his head, and whisper that you love him.

Something I think about a lot is how young the characters in My Hero Academia are. Like, it's easy to forget that the main cast is filled with teenagers and early 20-somethings. They're kids.

Anyway, I guess this is what I'm writing about for the next few days so uh. Yeah.

https://www.tumblr.com/annarobszombies/773224084234485760/simon-ghost-riley-looks-like-his-father-and-he

just read this and thought about simon with a baby that looks exactly like him and thinks they’re the most beautiful thing in the world

He does. He loves them.

He holds them in shaking hands, as he'd always had a fear of being a parent, but he can't take his eyes off them. It doesn't matter that they have his nose or his eyes or his hair. All that matters is that he created them with the person he loves most.

That's what matters to him. At least, I think so.

Not this literally being what my unfinished MHA oc fic is about

"So your answer to contain this great evil is just putting it in a box?" "It is a really big box, but yes."

Rewatching MHA and remembering the Hawks x oc fic I started but never finished or posted.

To re-write my Boku no Stress Relief series, or not to re-write my Boku no Stress Relief series...

Ugh, I have too much I want to do. I need to finish like three different CoD fics still TT_TT