The Beginning

♪ ༘⋆ drawn to you — t.todoroki smau

♪ ༘⋆ vi. cold soba viii. family dinner

♪ ༘⋆ vii. the offer 𝄞 m.list

cw: long ass written part, also reader kinda has an anxiety attack in the beginning

the band had been in in the living room for the better half of the day, plotting potential new projects and writing new material. and you had decidedly avoided all of them. you knew that questions would be asked, with how jumpy you were feeling, so you just claimed to have a lot to work on for class – which to be fair, was only half a lie. you had genuinely painted all day, though less so for studious purposes and more so for keeping your own sanity intact. then of course, your mother had texted. leaving you with no choice, but to return to the house of the person that had raised you. if that was the right term for what your mother had done. and you were also returning to the very same house, where you had gotten a glass thrown at your head, the last time you had been in it. so, it felt fair to say, that you weren't excited about the prospects of returning. 

by now you were pacing back and forth in your room, trying to figure out a plausible excuse to not show up on saturday. with trembling hands you had gripped your phone, every message had been typed with even shakier fingers, than the one before. the longer you stared at your mother's texts, the clearer it became, that she was not intending on letting you off the hook. no, you knew her well enough, to know, that she would not give any excuse the time of day. even if you were to actually fall sick, which given the size of the pit in your stomach, wasn't even that improbable, she was expecting you in her home at 6:30 exactly.

your feet kept moving in circles, like you could out-walk the thoughts that kept popping up in your head. you knew kai was angry at you. even though you had sent back the money and were planning on apologizing to him in person, he'd been pissed off the night that had landed you in the er, too. there was no telling how saturday would go. especially since you and kai both knew, whose side your mother was on. the more you thought about it, the more your mind spiraled. you could feel the air catch in your throat, to the point you almost choked on it. if only you could just continue to paint, push away everything else and for a moment – no matter how futile it was – forget. 

your knees felt rigid, as you tried to bend them to sit back down. your movements were stiff, almost as if you'd done them for the very first time. you huffed out a breath before trying to focus back on the gray landscape you had been painting. you grip on the brush tightened; the white of your knuckles matched the vacant spaces on the canvas pretty much exactly. the bristles connected where you had left off, but you couldn't get them to connect to the surface. they barely scraped the texture surface of the canvas. your hands were still trembling too much. the colors blurred together, unfocused, as your vision tunneled in on the thoughts clawing at the back of your mind. you needed to breathe. to think.

whenever it had come to fight or flight, you had always chosen the ladder. as would you now. the room started spinning. it all felt so small. so tight. 

you pushed back your chair. feet kicking against the easel in frustration. the need to escape overcame any and all sense of space. which was exactly, why your foot connected with one of the easel's legs and snapped it shut within a second. in a futile attempt to catch both the canvas and the easel, you jumped from your chair. it fell back behind you, briefly knocking you off balance. your hands barely grazed the wood of the structure before the easel, along with the still very wet canvas crashed right into you. the momentum sent you stumbling, knocking the air from your lungs as the wooden structure pinned you in place. the canvas ripped, of course, though not without thoroughly sullying your bare left arm and pant leg with varying shades of gray acrylic paint. and as if that wasn't enough already, her phone lit up with a new notification. 

dabi.

at this point, part of you had just embraced laying on the ground covered in paint, bring crushed by your own art supplies. trying not to break it, you shoved the wooden stand off of your body. it wasn't that heavy, but it turned out to be pretty difficult to move something with shaking hands. after a good minute of scooting and shoving the different wooden logs off your body, you finally managed to untangle yourself from them. you unlocked your phone, quickly replying to dabi before examining the sad remains of the tattered canvas, that you had spent the better half of today working on. the fabric had torn right at the center and the paint had smeared leaving whatever the original image had been to be anyone's guess. with a heavy sigh and an even heavier thud, you let gravity pull you back to the ground. your eyes latched onto the ceiling, as if staring at the blinding light would make the mess, that you had created, disappear.

"just dropped something, huh?"

you jumped at the voice. in one swift motion you pulled yourself up, now more or less sitting in the mess of wooden logs, paint and tiny scraps of canvas, that had ripped off. your head turned involuntarily, meeting the eyes of the person you had wanted to see in here the least. you knew, that your position was so easily mockable, but at the very least, if it had been tomura, you wouldn't need to go to the trouble of explaining what had led to it. alas, of course, you had to be staring back at him of all people, as he lazily leaned against your doorframe with a cheeky grin painted on his lips. his bare arms were crossed in front of his chest giving you a full view of the black ink that snaked along almost the entirety of both his arms.

"it's all part of my creative process." 

you laughed awkwardly before attempting to wedge the wooden logs of the easel back into place. dabi hummed in response. you didn't look back at him, assuming that he would just leave you to wallow in your own misery. but he didn't. something moved just outside your peripheral and before you knew it, dabi was squatting across from you. he swiped the easel from your hands and easily lodged all the pieces into place. wordlessly he stood back up and placed the structure back where it had stood before your nervous breakdown. you didn't say a word either, when he continued to help you pick up the pieces of your painting and loose brushes, that you had knocked across the room. 

once your room had returned to its usual amount of chaos, dabi spoke up again.

"any particular reason for this specific 'creative process' of yours?"

he let himself fall into your desk chair; his eyes never quite tearing away from you. it must be pretty amusing to him, to see you covered in paint and cowering on the floor. but his expression seemed less amused, though if you were asked to describe it, you would probably not be able to find the right words. the way he had asked, sounded so casual. the teasing tone in his voice came so naturally to him, that it was easy to overhear, the genuine curiosity, that his words were laced with. for a second, you even entertained the idea of telling him, but quickly decided against it. after all, what good would it do? so you just shrugged.

"what are you still doing here, anyway?"

himiko and spinner had left a bit ago and tomura had gone to his room to stream a new game, that a friend of his had recommended, so you had just assumed that dabi would have left, too. obviously you had assumed wrong.

"was about to leave, when i heard you." 

his fingers absentmindedly tapped against your chair's armrest. you nodded, picking at the slowly drying spots of paint on your pair of sweats. you could feel his stare burn holes in the back of your head and the more you tried to ignore it, the more aware your body seemed of it. as if turning away from him, could hide you from his eyes chipping away at the front you tried so hard to keep up. 

he stopped looking at you for a moment. using that time to look around the room. he had been in this very room countless times before. slept on that very bed, though the blanket and pillows on it were different than he remembered – yours, he assumed. the pattern of the duvet cover was hard to make out under the countless sketches that were scattered on top of it. you had hung up a few on the wall as well and even some paintings, that he assumed to be yours, as well. 

something about the way, that he so shamelessly occupied your space, looked at the paintings you had created, made you feel so much smaller. as if every brushstroke, every decoration choice you had made was scrutinized under his curious eye.

he must have noticed your growing unease, when his eyes found you again, amidst the space you had created for yourself. "i like what you did with the place." his tone was more playful again, but his eyes betrayed him. he was obviously gauging your reaction, though you didn't know what he would do with it. you offered up a timid smile followed by a quiet "thanks" and dabi decided to leave it at that.

"not gonna tell me, huh?" you huffed out a quiet laugh before finally pulling yourself back on your feet. 

"nothing to tell."

he hummed, his eyes still busy with dissecting you. it was more than obvious, that he didn't buy it for one second. 

"fair enough." you were about to say something, when he continued. "anything i can do to help with whatever you have nothing to tell about?"

your eyes widened. it didn't make any sense to you. why would he care so much? nobody was that kind to somebody, they barely knew. and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to believe, that he was entirely selfish in asking. maybe a part of you hoped, that it was genuine. and exactly that part of you answered, before the rational part had caught up to it. "can you make saturday not exist anymore?"

the confusion in dabi's expression was palpable. his eyebrow raised and his face pulled into a half-smile, unsure if you were joking. it was clear, that he was waiting for you to add something, anything, to make what you had just said, make at least a little bit of sense.

"this saturday specifically or the whole concept of saturday as a whole?"

and yet, he answered, as if your words had made perfect sense and were to be taken seriously. either that or he was just anticipating to right moment to mock you for it. not that you could've blamed him.

"only this one." you said, a chuckle catching in your throat.

dabi grinned, leaning back in your chair. "oh well, if it's only this one, i'm sure something can be done." by now you were almost entirely sure, that he was making fun of you. the way his grin kept growing was also a dead giveaway. 

he didn't laugh, though. almost as if he understood, that the joke, silly as it was, had come from the same place as the breakdown you'd had only moments ago. you sighed. defeated and unsure of how to avoid saturday without doing something drastically stupid, – like fling yourself off the building. your eyes found dabi, again. he was still grinning. you just noticed, that it was a bit lopsided. his arms crossed in front of his chest again. this time, for some reason your mind specifically registered the very defined muscles ripping along his forearm up to his bicep. involuntarily a thought snaked its way into your mind and before you knew it, against your better judgement, you opened your mouth.

"remember when you said, that you owe me?" your eyes shot to the ground. regret was already settling deeply within you.

"what do you need?" there was a brief flicker of confusion in his eyes, but you were surprised all the same, that he didn't immediately shoot you down.

your fingers fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater. dabi had noticed, that your eyes seemed glued to the floor now. you were glad, that he gave you the time to sort out how the fuck you were going to ask that without sounding like a completely lunatic. a deep breath left your lungs before catching in your throat, letting you almost choke on it. one horrendously embarrassing coughing fit, later, you looked at him. he was still calm, appearing as nonchalant as ever; had you not noticed it. the faintest shake in his left leg. 

"so, keep in mind, that this is probably gonna sound crazy to you–" you started. eyes darting back down the second they made contact with the intense blue, that was staring back at you. "– and you can totally say no and probably never talk to me again, once you realize how insane i am."

"y/n." 

you didn't notice, that he pulled himself up from the chair.

"actually, you know what, just forget i said anything, i'm just gonna crawl in a hole and die."

you turned and fully planned to bolt out of the room, on your way to never be in the same space as dabi, ever again, but dabi was faster. 

"y/n." he grabbed a hold of your wrist and turned you back around to face him. "spit it out."

his eyes didn't waver away from you for a second. they were as stern, as the tone in his voice, but not as demanding as the words would lead to believe. you ignored the urge to look back down. it would be much more embarrassing, if you shied away now.

you took a deep breath, taking a step back from him. dabi noticed and released your wrist, that you hadn't even noticed, he was still holding. "can you come with me to my mom's for dinner on saturday?"

the second the words left your lips, you could feel your feet begging you to run out the door, but they stayed planted. a brief flicker of surprise was in his eyes, before it hid behind a smug smirk.

"meeting your parents already?" his eyes briefly flitted up and down your body. "moving a little fast there, aren't we, doll?"

"that's not–" your ams crossed in front of you almost instinctively, as you stared up at him. he was a good bit taller than you and thoroughly enjoying that particular fact right now. again, you could only sigh, as he continued to be amused by the annoyed pout, that had taken over your features. "that's not what i meant."

you choked out another awkward laugh, realizing that now you actually had to find some kind of reasonable explanation for why you had even suggested that in the first place. he seemed equally as curious to hear you explain, given his now more relaxed smirk and the slight tilt of his head.

"my mom invited me to family dinner and i really don't want to show up there alone."

judging from the knit that depended between dabi's eyebrows, that explanation was less than satisfactory, but you were not ready to reveal the real reason. not to him, especially. you were aware, that there were already question marks surrounding your sudden reappearance in your brother's life – especially by his bandmates, but you didn't want them to change their view on you. especially not someone, who was as close to tomura, as he was.

"wouldn't shigs be there anyway?"

you scoffed. the sound left your throat entirely involuntarily and too fast for you to gain the conscious ability to stop it.

"nope." you just shrugged. technically, neither of you made a secret out of it, but you hadn't explained it in so long, that it felt a bit weird to rehash the family constellation in your mind. "she's not his mom and she really does not like him." the awkward smile on your face did little to play off the energy in the room, that lingered around your question.

"huh." was all that left dabi's mouth for a while. 

he stared at you and the way your feet shuffled into the wooden floor below you and the way red patches formed around your cheeks from how embarrassed you were. it was almost cute, he thought. though not as endearing as the gray paint, that you had yet to notice was smeared on the tip of your nose.

"i would love to, but i'm worried we might give your mom the wrong impression." you had expected a straight up no or for him to just laugh in your face. but you had to give him credit for entertaining your dumbass as long as he had, even if only because he pitied you.

"believe me, if i tell you, that i'd rather she think, i brought my boyfriend, than deal with being on my own in there."

just the thought of being stuck there again with him sent shivers down your spine. you tried to hide the tremble of your fingers by gripping onto the fabric of your sweater. there was something about the way you had answered. how you had reacted specifically to the idea of being home alone, that reminded him of something. or rather someone. and maybe that was why the next sentence left his mouth.

"i'll do it."

[ taglist open ]

tags: @fictionalcharactersownmyheart @hktfbuo @commonmisery @lsunncy @kyiyoko @seijuroww @themultifandomgirl @samm1e13 @kalulakunundrum @porusuniverse @oddball08 @starseclipsing @jlly1 @softasshadows @peachesvault @starzzworld @starrmage @letsgolulu @cristy-101 @brixmeeler @skeletonmoths @togeswrld @personally4runa @sunolls @chiara-hotel @bakugouswh0r3 @rueclfer @bangersplusmash @defnotriri @oliveoil422 @ravencrow1995

ignore the timestamps

ᝰ.ᐟStreet racer!Rin

I remade my ugly ass street racer rin drawing. Anyways here's the revamped version 😛😛

(Does anyone see his tongue piercing 💔)

It still looking fucking ahh 💔💔 but it's better than before so whatever. I'm relearning how to draw so bear with me

I hate colour theory. Me and my homies hate colour theory

Made by me. Idm if you use, js credit me

The Black Sun Swallows Whole

shigaraki x reader

Consumed by grief after the death of your parents, you throw yourself into researching their killers, an organization called The Abyssal Factory lead by All For One, who claim to be for the betterment of society. When you're given the opportunity to fight back against their corruption, you jump at the chance. However, as you get more entangled with your fight against unchecked power, you find that everything is not as it seemed, especially when it comes to the heir to the company, Tomura Shigaraki.

tags: canon typical violence, enemies to lovers, found family, scifi au, alternative universe, science fiction and fantasy, slow burn, plot heavy, no quirks, reader has backstory, shigaraki being an ass

warnings: nonconsentual choking

wc: 6.8k

a/n: this fic has been my baby over the past few months, I really hope ya'll like it!! I changed a few details about canon to make things make sense for a quirkless AU, I hope it makes sense!

An absolutely huge thank you to @scary-grace for the beta read, and for listening to my ideas for this fic!!

Chapter 1

The bar was dim when you first stepped inside, lit only by the lukewarm glow of the orange lights that hung over every booth and the neon signs that crept over the surface of the round bartending station at the center of the room. You shuffled from side to side uncomfortably as a persistent stick gripped your shoes and a smell of cheap booze permeated the air, making your nostrils flare. Groups of intermingling species sat engrossed in their own conversations, yelling at each other over the sound of the music that blared over the speakers. You recognized the song—some musician from the planet Vendere, the tune slow and melodic. It was something you'd want to slow dance to in other circumstances.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you scanned the room. The bar's environment was completely out of your wheelhouse. You were used to spending your time alone. With this level of noise and a huge crowd, it was inevitable for you to feel out of place. It didn't help that you already didn't drink much to begin with, and you certainly didn't have any friends to go out with. At least today you didn't have to socialize outside of the realm of business.

Checking your commlink, you waited for a notification to pop up on the screen. Nothing. It seemed your contacts weren't here yet. In hindsight, meeting up with strangers off of obscure internet forums was probably not the smartest idea, especially considering the nature of what you were planning. There was a non-zero chance you'd get arrested tonight. Regardless, you felt prepared to protect yourself in case anything went wrong. Your blaster felt heavy against your belt, and the three knives you kept strapped to you at all times were easy enough to handle, after all.

After ordering the cheapest thing you could think of, sliding what was probably too-many credits to the bartender, you settled into a booth at the back of the bar, facing the doorway. With a shaking breath, you mentally rehearsed your story, recounting what you were going to say. What drove you. Made you tick.

You could picture Vita, one of the thousands of inhabited planets in the Musutafu galaxy and your home planet, as it was when you grew up. Tall grasses that you loved to weave into little baskets. The water that reflected the sky, vibrant and shining, rippling and distorting from the small animals that disturbed it. Insects and birds that screeched a harmonious, chaotic song late into the night.

Your love for the water enforced your love for Vita. Some of your fondest childhood memories were days spent in the marshlands surrounding your house. Days when you would splash in puddles until the mud caked your boots and flecked your face. You would come home upon sundown, your mother scolding you as she wiped your face and arms with a wet cloth before sending you on your way to the bath.

Vita was dry now. As a child, you knew water was important, but not to what extent. To a young child, water was just what you drank. It was what you played in. Bathed in. You never expected it to become the economic resource it came to be regarded as.

You were ten when your world started to end. When Vita dried.

Drying was what the Intergalactic Empire insisted happened to your planet. A strange occurrence due to the citizens' over-consumption of water. But you knew the reality of its death. What was touted as a scientific breakthrough, capable of changing and revolutionizing the infrastructure of space travel, actually became your planet's downfall. Water was discovered to hold properties to allow for clean engines that didn't require expensive wiring or electrical systems. It was supposed to be better for the planet— for the galaxy. Until someone naturally got greedy.

This greed is what killed your planet.

With so much water ripe for the taking, it was only natural that someone would try to take advantage of the abundance of natural resources.

Your parents, as politicians, advocated for the protection of your planet's natural resources and sustainability efforts. They had taught you to recognize right from wrong and to stand up for what you believe in, despite what others may think.

This same philosophy is what had gotten them killed.

The night they were killed left a stain on your soul that no amount of scrubbing could remove. You were playing in the marsh again, watching the tadpoles swim around your boots and hands in the water. Their screams from the house startled you, the sound echoing across the still waters and sent any animal careening. Your little ten-year-old brain didn't know if you should run or hide with the tadpoles. Your rain boots seemed to sink further into the mud as you stood, blood rushing in your ears as you began to run towards your house, each step loudly splashing as the water speckled you from the waist down. The slight breeze seemed like a vigorous wind as you paused, approaching the house. Parked on the dry patch of land where your parent's ship usually parked was a strange starship, black and aerodynamic, you had never seen before.

Your parents would have told you if they were having guests. Why didn't they tell you?

The sound of two male voices echoed off the water, booming against the quiet sound of insects buzzing in the marsh.

"Wasn't there a brat we were supposed to get too?" An icy chill ran down your spine. Did they mean you? Your shorts became soaked as you scrambled to crouch down, hiding behind the large patches of tall grass. The sides of the grass poked into you painfully as you stilled, willing your body not to move a muscle. You held your breath and hoped your rabbit-quick heartbeat wasn't loud enough to startle the wolves.

They were too far away for you to pick out any discernible features. "There was," he said, bored. "But what does it matter, we can always come back."

The other man began to protest, "But the boss said—"

"I don't care what Shigaraki said, it's one kid. We aren't getting paid enough to care." Recognition sparked in your head. You heard your parents discussing Shigaraki at the dinner table. As the CEO of The Abyssal Factory, a company focused on "clean, water-dependent engines for space travel," he was their biggest opponent when it came to the protection of Vita's water.

Their voices drifted further away. Still crouched, you stood on your toes to peer over the grass. They now stood by their starships. You prayed they were leaving.

"I guess," the taller one muttered, so quiet you could barely make out the words, before climbing into the ship. "We'll come back if he finds out."

Still crouched, knees aching, you started at the ship as it quickly shrank to a dot in the sky, disappearing as it took off. Red-hot tears wet your waterline as your boot, stuck in the mud, pulled off your foot. Panic gripped you.

Damn it. You flinched. You weren't supposed to say damn it. Your socked foot was sopping wet and cold as you raced towards the house, fumbling and crawling up the stairs, leaving thick splats of mud that exploded into stars on each step.

You stood in eerie silence as the back door was left open, white curtains swaying in the wind, the bottom edges tinged with red droplets. Hot tears rose to wet your waterline. The air smelled metallic as you slowly trudged through the house, the water dripping off your clothes and onto the floor, leaving a brown trail of droplets behind you.

The memory of your dead parents stayed etched into your brain in the same way their blood was now etched into every nook and cranny of your living room floor. To this day, you wished you could forget it. The awkward angles your parents laid at. The way their blood pooled, mirroring the same puddles you used to love.

Everything was blurry from that point. You remember crawling towards the commlink to call your aunt, screaming and begging for help until your throat went hoarse. For someone to bring your mom and dad back. For someone to towel you off the way your mom used to. The flashing lights and questions from the Interspace police were locked away in the recesses of your mind, never to be seen again.

A ping on your commlink snapped you out of your thoughts. Wrestling to pull it out of your jacket, you glanced at the notification.

"We're here." Your contact. Finally.

You spotted them by the door— two men casually dressed, covertly glancing around the room for you. You raised your arm in a wave, "here."

You got a better look at them as they approached, sliding across from you in the booth. "I'm guessing you're the one I've been speaking to?" The scruffy one with long, black hair asked, neutral in tone. "Yeah," pulling out your wallet, you tossed your ID on the table. That was the condition you had both agreed upon to ensure you both were who you said you were. Real IDs. No funny business.

The other man, blonde, quickly snatched up your ID, scrutinizing it through his yellow, triangular glasses, mustache twitching. He must have liked it, because he thrust it back at you along with his own. "This better not be a fake."

"It's not." Taking both, you took a minute to look at his. Hizashi Yamada. The ID was old, but he matched the photo, and there weren't any obvious imperfections that would indicate its illegitimacy.

The air in your little booth was as tense and quiet as you switched IDs with the other man, the single hanging light from above elongating your faces. Shota Aizawa. Just like Yamada's, there weren't any issues you could observe from the naked eye. The both of you nodded, satisfied. Your knee bounced from beneath the table. Finally, something was happening.

Your desire to avenge your parents had consumed you, eventually driving you to encrypted online forums to discuss your target: Shigaraki, first name unknown, simply nicknamed All For One on the online forums. You had seen their large, obnoxiously branded ships drain entire planets of everything they had, leaving its citizens with no choice but to seek asylum elsewhere or join them for a "gainful employment opportunity." It was corrupt, unjust, and completely unchecked.

Of course, other people noticed. Others called for the Interspace government take action against them. But The Abyssal Factory's lobbying efforts proved fruitful, causing the forums to turn to turn to other methods of control. They held whispers of assassination, calls for retaliation. You wanted to be part of that. This lead you to where you were today.

The plan was simple; Exchange backstories, see if you trusted each other, and then exchange resources if you did. You had information they needed, they had the manpower you so desperately craved.

Luckily, the bar was loud enough to mask your conversation. "So. How'd All For One fuck your planet?"

If looks could kill, then you'd hate to be on the receiving end of Yamada's. "We're from Focis." Those three words made your stomach drop. Focis was one of the first planets completely drained by The Abyssal Factory. You heard stories of what had happened. Fires that engulfed whole cities, buildings leveled, victims forever trapped among the rubble. It was said that the screams of its citizens could still be heard in the wind.

There were very few survivors, most people unable to escape to the starships in time. Those who managed to escape lived with both the mental and physical scars, a constant smoke in their lungs that wouldn't leave no matter how much clean air they breathed.

It was regarded as one of the largest instances of mass death caused by The Abyssal Factory, earning Shigaraki the title of All For One. All the world's resources, all this death caused by one rich bastard seeking a profit. It infuriated you. You were further enraged by the fact that All For One completely got away with it too, only facing a mild slap on the wrist by the Intergalactic Empire, probably due to his "generous donations." The corruption seemed to never cease.

"Look, how do I know you're telling the truth?" You scrutinized their expressions, looking for a twitch or strange movement. Anything to indicate they were lying. "I need some proof that you're not feeding me bullshit."

Aizawa pulled his hair behind his ear, revealing the dark eye patch covering his right eye. "This is from when my apartment crumbled on top of me. And this," he leaned down, lifting his right pant leg, his newly-uncovered prosthetic shining against the neon lights of the bar. "is from when I was crawling out of the rubble."

"Okay," you nodded, turning towards Yamada. Unceremoniously, he unbuttoned his shirt. A large, blotchy red burn scar etched over the expanses of his chest, disappearing under the sleeves and traveling around his back. His deft fingers began rebuttoning his shirt. "Our friends died in that fire," he sneered, tone soured by grief. "I need to kill those bastards that did it." His eyes were intense when he looked up at you. "What about you?"

You retold your story in the way you had always recited it. The screams. The men who took everything from you. The bloodstains embedded so deep in the walls and rug that no cleaner could remove it. The place you vowed you'd never return to.

Aizawa looked solemn. "So we all lost—"

He was quickly interrupted by the sound of an argument up front. Security was currently arguing with a cop from the intergalactic police force.

"You need a warrant—"

The cop, hulking with muscles that bulged under his uniform, towered over the security guard. "I'm only going to say this once. Here's my warrant," he gestured to his blaster, large and proud on his hip. "Now you're gonna let me in, and you won't have any issues." You eyed the security guard in disgust as he deflated. Some security he was.

"Alright, listen up!" The cop yelled as the music stopped, leaving nothing but the sound of awkward shuffling. "ID check, everyone stay where you are." Anxiety churned in your stomach as some people around you groaned in verbal protest. ID checks were routine at this point to check for anyone wanted for crimes against the Empire, and by extension, the companies that funded them.

You tried to stay cool, quickly switching out your real ID for your fake one under the table, a bored expression on your face as the cop came to your table, his one mechanical eye scanning your ID. You tried not to smile when you noticed Yamada and Aizawa's were different colors than before and touting different names. You felt a drop of sweat run down your back as he continuing examining it.

Shouldn't he be done already? It was a damn good fake.

Suddenly, the loud noise of another man screaming pulled your attention to the front of the bar, where a man was currently running towards the exit. Your ID was thrown down to you as the cop got ready to charge and shoot. "Stop!"

The bar was thrown into chaos as someone started firing. Adrenaline and fear coursed through you as a large— you didn't know what it was, but it was hulking with muscle in a way that didn't seem possible, beady eyes poking through its exposed brain above its massive maw —barreled through the door, sending pieces of metal shrapnel flying.

Eyes wide, your hands reached for your own blaster. "What the fuck is that."

You nearly fell over when you felt a hand clench down on your jacket, pulling you into a crouch. "We need to leave." Aizawa's hand was firm on your back, holding you in place. "Exit is that way, we'll tell you everything later."

The three of you scrambled to leave with everyone else through the back door, holding your breath until you were outside, making your way to the only two electric starships on the lot, yours and theirs.

"Ah, that was scary!" Yamada groaned, suddenly much more animated and less serious than he was inside the bar.

Crossing your arms, you tried not to shudder. "What was that?"

"They're called nomu," Aizawa gave you a strange look, putting away his commlink as yours buzzed. "We can discuss it back at our base. I just sent you the coordinates." Your ears perked up at the mention of their base. "What's at the base?"

"UA flight school," Yamada grinned. "We're teaching students to fly fighter jets."

A sense of giddiness filled your lungs. Fucking finally, something was happening. "I'll be there tomorrow morning."

Your room at your aunt's place was small, but livable. After the death of your parents, she had taken you in with open arms, so it's not like you could complain much. You took a look around your room, wondering if you'd ever set foot in there again. Binders of evidence lined the shelves, spilling out onto the walls with photos and articles you had printed on your aunt's ancient printer. She had always teased you for being so old-fashioned, so tedious with your physical media. But anything digital could be so easily deleted, and you were terrified that your life's work would go to naught.

Staring out the window, you sat on the bed, looking over the bustling city streets, slightly quieted by the late hour. You remembered when you first moved in with your aunt, who lived only a few standard hours away through warp speed on the planet Civitas, you found the city overwhelming. It was bustling, alive and pulsating with the energy of tens of millions of people around every corner. It was so different from Vita—with it's smaller, less populated cities and small towns. As a teenager, you realized the thing you initially despised was your only protection—more people meant more eyes on All For One. Still, even ten years later, it didn't feel like home.

Packing what meager personal belongings you had, your head cocked as you heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Your aunt's smiling face greeted you as she walked in, sitting herself in your desk chair. "So, what time are you leaving?"

"I dunno. Early."

Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "You know—"

You already knew what she was going to say, because she'd said it many times before. "Are you going to try to talk me out of going again?"

Her tone was soft, quiet in a way that came from a deep sense of melancholy. "I don't think I could, even if I wanted to." Your arms tightened around your bag as she glanced around your room, eyes lingering on your bookshelf before looking at you again. "You have your mind made up and I'm happy for you, I just—" she wrung her hands. She looked tired these days. "I don't want you to forget about your living family in pursuit of your dead one." A wry smile fell over her face as she stood. "Pursue what you think is right, but don't let it consume you."

You stood to hug her, her arms warm around your back.

"I won't, I promise."

But something in the back of your mind screamed that those words were a lie.

When you left in the morning, eyes still blurred from your early rise, you took one last look around the room. The desk that barely fit your computer. Your bed, dressed in plain bed sheets, you outgrew a few years back. As you closed the door behind you, you wondered if you ever really fit that room anyways.

After landing in the clearing, you double-checked your commlink to make sure you were at the correct coordinates. UA was located on the planet Fuga, only a half-days away at warp-speed.

Landing your ship was a struggle, to say the least.

You were expecting some form of concrete structure, large and imposing, with a long landing strip. Instead, you were greeted with the opposite— aside from the small, grassy clearing where you landed, the surrounding area was lush with green vegetation and tall trees with vines that draped along the horizon.

Exiting the ship with your bag in tow, you hoped this wasn't a trap. Suddenly you were being called to, Aizawa's hand raised in a wave as he approached.

"Sorry, I should've been here to greet you."

"It's fine." You shifted the weight of your bag on your shoulder, heavy with the weight of the binders you brought.

"Let me show you around." The top of the compound blended in perfectly with the rolling terrain that surrounded it, except for the large, glass panels along the front. The metal frames that accentuated each pain were covered in rust, giving the impression that the place was abandoned. This impression didn't last long as you entered.

Aizawa led you up a set of stairs around the compound as you looked around in astonishment. There were all kinds of electric ships on the main factory floor, various models and designs you'd only seen on ancient, yellowed pages. It was an eclectic mix of ships in various bronze and copper tones, shapes altered to suit its pilot's flying style. Several of Aizawa's students were working on the ships, some huddled in lively conversation. "This used to be an electrical equipment manufacturing plant, he explained. "We found it abandoned and thought the trees would do a good job of hiding us from any satellites."

You thought back to the trees outside, the way they grew in close, tight-knit patches, with branches like the tendrils of a deep-sea creature, crossing and wrapping around one another and framing bits of the sky in oddly-shaped frames.

"Aren't the trees a little too thick to train fighter pilots?" The grin that stretched Aizawa's face was scary. You were thankful you weren't one of his students. "Oh, they can fly in it just fine. You'll see."

"We'll have a meeting in about two hours to discuss the information you've brought, those nomu we saw earlier, and our future plans. There's a room for you upstairs and down the hall to the right, I think some of the girls made a nameplate for you." he rolled his eyes. "They were excited."

You smiled weakly. You hoped they weren't too entangled in this. That their youth made them eligible for a normal life. "Thank you." Aizawa nodded before turning, leaving you to your own devices.

Aizawa was right. Hung on the door was a small wooden sign, your name painted in a fancy-looking script and colored plastic gems misaligned on the outer edges. The size of your room here was not dissimilar from the size your room back home. While the walls in your aunt's house were covered, these walls were distinctly bare, highlighting the rough texture of the concrete. Your bed was clean and neat as you placed your bag down, a thick blanket near the end the only pop of color. You unpacked your bag in record time with the exception of your binder, deciding it best to keep it on you for the meeting.

Exiting the room and heading towards the maintenance bay, you found yourself still with awe halfway down the stairs. From this angle you could see everything—it seemed Aizawa ran a tight ship, no pun intended. Like yours, all the starships were electric and in near perfect condition despite their age. Electric starships were rare to see, especially after The Abyssal Factory's lobbying efforts.

You hurried the rest of the way down the stairs to take a look. As you reached up to read the model number on one, a voice interrupted you, calling out your name. "You flew in on an GA-FFE37B! All Might himself designed that one, and they hardly manufacture parts for them anymore!" One of Aizawa's students, freckled with green hair that tousled in every direction, padded up to you, furiously scribbling in his notebook. You blinked when you spotted a sketch of your ship already in there. "I'm Izuku Midoriya, do you mind showing me your ship later? There are just so many things I want to see up close!" The words flew so quickly out of his mouth it was like they were traveling at warp speed.

"Sure." Who were you to stop the pursuit of knowledge. You spent the rest of the time before the meeting explaining the mechanisms to the ship and discussing All Might's designs with Midoriya.

The makeshift meeting room was barely large enough to accommodate the table, long and large enough to fit all the UA teachers, a few select students, and yourself. The air in the meeting room was much more serious than in the maintenance bay, lacking the youthful joy that the students seemed to exude. In your eagerness you got there a tad early, leaving plenty of open seats for the time being. You sat down away from anyone else, waiting for the room to fill up. Eventually more people trickled in, and a woman with long, black hair settled into the chair next to you. She barely had time to introduce herself as Nemuri before a hush fell over the room, all eyes falling to a man closely resembling a rodent from your home planet as he scampered in, sitting at the head of the table.

Introducing himself as Nezu, he started the meeting. "As you all know, Aizawa and Yamada made contact with someone who may have information on possible weapons sources for the empire, and by extension The Abyssal Factory." He gestured towards you. "I heard you have some intel?"

Clearing your throat, you stood on shaking legs and introduced yourself. "I've tracked down a weapons supplier for the empire." Pulling out your binders, you passed them to Nemuri. "Everyone can take a look. Kai Chisaki was seen meeting with All For One around four standard weeks ago at a restaurant on Vendere, but it was unknown if any business deals were discussed." Vandere, a merchant hub, was a bustling planet with a city that seemed to stretch along every surface. "He runs Shie Hassaikai, a weapons manufacturing plant."

"What possible reason do they have to meet?" Namuri asked.

"That's what I was wondering as well. I did some digging, and there are records of a transaction from a few days ago, but they're not for weapons. It wasn't until Aizawa mentioned them that I connected the dots."

You don't know how you missed it. The Shie had no ties to The Abyssal Factory on paper until a few days ago, so you didn't have time to do a full deep dive into their business dealings or their paperwork. You also didn't pay much attention to the regular news outside of where The Abyssal Factory was concerned. Intergalactic news proved to rapid to, anyway.

Nomu were the empire's new line of defense, unveiled only a few standard days ago. There was a scarce amount of information on them—no one knew what they were or how they were created.

Pointing at the next page in your binder, you gestured for the next page to be flipped. "Those are the numbers for a recent business deal between Shie Hassaikai and The Abyssal Factory. And look at what's being discussed." At the top of the spreadsheet, printed in small letters read the text: Nomu, 300 count.

"I'd say our next plan of action is to raid the Shie Hassaikai facility. Perhaps the key to understanding the nomu lies there," Sekijiro mused.

Aizawa nodded. "That's right. Weapons are our top priority at the moment, besides excess manpower."

You grinned. Everyone seemed to be in agreement. "I can get us the building's blueprints if you give me a computer and enough time. From there we can plan an attack strategy and hopefully find something out about the Nomu."

With this plan in mind, you set out to hack into Shie Hassaikai's database and find the facility blueprints. You spent the next few days hunched over your new computer, occasionally interrupted by Aizawa or one of his students who'd been sent to remind you to eat.

While it took a bit longer due to a different setup, you managed to locate the files for the blueprints, security schedules, and locations of any security alarms.

The plan was simple—a small group would fly down to a field north of the Shie Hassaikai main warehouse, located on Repono, a small, near-empty planet owned by the Shie Hassaikai to use for their manufacturing. Everyone would then split into groups A, B, and C. Groups A and B would infiltrate the building through the entrance on the north side of the building while group C stayed back, keeping a watchful eye on the outside of the compound.

A larger Group A, consisting of Aizawa, Snipe, Kirishima, Tamaki, and a few more teachers would take the linear path down to the packaging area where weapons that were being sent to the empire were stored before delivery. They would then take as many weapons as they could.

Group B, consisting of you, Izuku, and Mirio would veer left to the security room and disable all cameras and sensors that could possibly alert anyone to your presence. You when then all quickly head back to reconvene with group A to assist with the loud out.

Groups A and B would then run back to the exit, where Group C, Yamada, Ochako, Tsuyu, and Nejire, would be waiting to assist in the load out process before steering the ships back to UA.

The sky was pitch black when you touched down in a field far enough to be away from view. The light from the stars was the only illuminator besides the bright lights that surrounded the Shie Hassaiki headquarters. There wasn't anything in the surrounding vicinity other than the compound. It stood absolutely daunting, the dark, windowless structure a harsh change from the rolling hills and slow-moving rivers that surrounded it. Silence filled the air, occasional low whistles of the wind cooling your face and tousling your hair.

Snipe lead the group down the side of the building, dirt and grass quietly crunching beneath your uniform boots. The doors were lower than the hill you were currently positioned on, giving you a perfect view of the headquarters.

Two armed, masked guards stood still outside the entrance, poised on either side of the doors. You waited as Snipe took out his long-ranged blaster, crouching as he lined up and took the shot.

One. He was quick despite the distance and wind. Two.

Both security guards slumped to the ground with a sickening thwap, one after the other.

There was no time to wait—everyone rushed down the side of the hill towards the doors with you, Izuku, and Mirio at the front, since disabling the alarms was the of the upmost importance.

Rifling through the dead security guard's jacket, you tried not to cringe at how warm the body still was. Eventually you found it—his ID card, clipped into the inside of his uniform. You snatched it as quickly as you could, ushering everyone inside after a quick swipe.

From then you enacted the plan, splitting off into two groups, the sound of group A advancing to the weapons room fading as they advanced. Following the map of long, winding halls you practically had etched into your brain, you continued down the hallway, making it to the security room.

You unlocked the doors with a quick swipe of your stolen ID, the doors sliding back to reveal the back of a security guard's head. He spoke on his commlink in a frantic, irritated tone, too enraptured in his conversation to notice the door.

Shit. He was most certainly calling for backup. A quick tug on the trigger of your blaster and he slumped over the console. You held your breath as a rush of emotions swept through you. Regret, then shock, then guilt. Your throat felt acidic as you swallowed the bile that rose. There was no time for emotions; you had to keep moving.

After pulling away his rapidly-cooling corpse, you stared at the various buttons, differing in size and color.

You took a deep, rattling breath.

It's okay. You could do this.

Making quick work of disabling the cameras, Izuku helped you unlock the doors to the weapons storage, the two of you working in sync as Mirio stood guard at the door. After triple checking that the cameras and sensors were disabled, you ushered Mirio and Izuku down the hall to reconvene with group A, you on their tail.

You were halfway to group A when you felt the wind knock completely out of your lungs. The building spun as someone grabbed you by the collar of your jacket, slamming you against the wall. Metallic ichor felt hot on your tongue as the back of your head kit the hard surface, recoiling from the initial impact.

The tip of a baton, crimson and pulsating with energy, crackled over your stomach as your assailant held it against your skin, their hand wrapped tight around your throat. Your head felt clouded from the lack of oxygen and fear that coursed through your veins.

"Where is Kai Chisaki?" You got a good look at him then, his face inches away from yours as he sneered, crimson eyes glaring at you with utter contempt. His pale skin was engulfed in an all-black ensemble under a blood red cape, various straps crossing the length of his body.

Whipping your head around, you heard Izuku cry out in anger. You couldn't quite hear the exchange due to the distance—too far away to help. He was just down the hall a second before.

You yelled for him with the hope that he'd hear you. "Izuku, Mirio, run! Get to the others!"

One pair of footsteps audibly retreated, before stopping. "Izuku, come on!" Your heart fell from your throat and back to your chest as you heard both boys finally retreat. However, it quickly rose again, the weight of a hand around your neck heavy as you strained to remove it.

With both hands, you tugged his wrist from around your larnyx, pulling him to the side and towards the wall. "Why would I know where he is?" With shaky hands, you reached for your blaster.

Spinning around, he looked down at what you were wearing, eyes widening when he noticed your lack of uniform. Not a security guard. Before you could place the finger on the trigger, he twisted your arm to the side, forcing your wrist to go limp.

You hissed in pain, dropping your blaster with an echoing clang.

"Who are you?" His eyes narrowed, body pressed into yours as he pinned you to the wall. Squirming, you tried to call upon any of the self-defense videos you studied. Your chest felt tight with panic as you realized you couldn't move.

"Who are you?"

The shrill sound of the alarms made you both startle.

The visage of a man, clad all in black, with dark purple burns covering most of his skin appeared in your peripheral. "Shigaraki, we need to go get the weapons before—"

"In a second, Dabi."

You interrupting unabashedly. "You're a Shigaraki?"

He seemed appalled at the question, as if there was nothing that could be gained from this clarification but goodwill. "What's your problem?"

Disgust churned in your stomach, face warm. "Your shitstain of a 'company' is my problem—do you really not know how many innocent people you've killed?"

Everyone in the room tensed, silent other than the ear-splitting screech of the alarm. The man to your left, tall and green with lizard-like features, broke the tension with a grin, a giddiness in his stance that you couldn't identify the reason for.

Shigaraki's voice came out a low whisper, a murmur laced with outrage. "What do you mean, innocent?"

His off-kilter stance allowed you to push him to the side, freeing you from his grasp. More of Shigaraki's team, a blonde alien girl and a man completely covered in spandex emerged down the other end, blocking the exit which you originally came from. There were too many of them for you to pick up your blaster and shoot. They'd surround you too quickly.

Your feet pounded against the floor as you ran in the other direction, the shrillness of the alarms ringing in your ears as you hoped you'd stumble across Mirio or Izuku on the way to the weapons room where group A was.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you heard Mirio call out your name. Down a side hallway, Mirio and Izuku raced towards you. Relief, then confusion filled you as you noticed what, or who, Izuku was carrying—a little girl with a red horn sticking straight through her long, white hair, covered in bandages.

"She was running down the halls," Izuku held her tight as she gripped his sleeves. Poor thing was probably terrified.

"We can bring her once we find the others." The three of you raced down the hall to the weapons room. You stopped as everyone from group A raced out of the room, meeting you halfway, several carts of weapons rolling behind them.

Snipe pointed back to the way you were coming, "We got everything we could grab. Lets turn back now."

Spinning on your heel, you sprinted towards the exit, stopping as Shigaraki's gang ran in your direction. Shigaraki stopped closest to you, his baton crackling at his side. "You aren't leaving until you give me some answers."

The sound of blaster shots boomed over the sound of the alarm. Several uniformed soldiers marched in through a side hall, blasters raised as shots rained upon you.

You turned back to Shigaraki, shoving past him. "You can't get answers if we're dead, now move."

He groaned before turning and running in the same direction. "Fine."

"Tomura, do we have to leave now?" The blonde alien girl pouted. "I wanted to stab Chisaki."

"Not now, you idiot." The one covered in burn scars, Dabi, said, turning and running as well.

The air felt fresh outside as you burst through the exit. The starships—including the branded Abyssal Factory ships that seemed to appear from thin air—were close to the exit, as Group A wheeled the carts in.

Aizawa and Snipe shot back at the impending guards as the doors closed, the rest of the team working together to quickly load the weapons.

Before you could join your team, you felt a hand tug you back, long fingers wrapped around your elbow. The harsh spotlights surrounding the building highlighted the scars on his face, jagged and harsh over his lip and right eye, with dry, flaking lines surrounding his eyes and brow. It looked painful.

You were expecting him to look… different. A typical billionaire's son would be prim. Polished. The longer you stared at him the more he looked beat down. Tired. Unkempt, with long, blue hair that blew in every direction, tangled and frizzy.

He opened his mouth to say something, when the Shie Hassaikai's ships appeared in the sky, creating beacons of bright light against the otherwise dark, starry sky. You internally cursed. Backup had arrived.

"Look out!" Shigaraki pushed you in the direction of UA's ships as he dove in the opposite direction, a laser beam from one of the Shie Hassaiki ships shooting the ground on which you stood only a second prior, sending dirt and grass flying.

You scrambled to join the others in loading up the ships, watching as Shigaraki's ship flew off into the distance, the white-hot bullets from the Shie Hassaikai's ship blasters stark against the black sky.

Your heart thumped in your chest as the cart you were unloading burst into flames, sparks and shrapnel flying into the air.

"Everyone set off, now!" Aizawa yelled from the cockpit of his ship.

Scrambling into the back of Ochako's ship, you watched the fire grow smaller and smaller in the distance. The noise of laser bullets whizzing by were muffled as the ship doors closed. The ship lurched as Ochako enabled the thrusters, bringing the ship to warp speed.

Looking over at all the ships flying in a V-formation, Aizawa as the leader, you should've felt an immense sense of pride. You had done it—the mission was a success. Still, in the back of your mind, you felt like you had more questions than you did before, and an unending sense of dread. Tomura was within your grasp and you failed to kill him.

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mutuals i am politely asking you what color i remind you of

Chapter 04.

♡ twenty three

♡ rivals to lovers / fake dating

♡ cw / tw : -

"We're gonna need a story." Bakugo mumbled as you walked over to him.

"A story?" You tilted your head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Well they're obviously going to ask us questions in there aren't they?" Bakugo responded dryly, jutting his thumb towards the door, before rolling his eyes at your blatant stupidity. "We gotta come up with a story, dumbass. How we started getting close..." He looked down and gripped his phone tightly, knuckles going white as his voice dropped slightly, "How.. we fell in love..." He finished, meeting your gaze.

Your tongue kissed your teeth as you scratched the back of your neck.

"Okay how about this. You and I hated each other in highschool.” You stood up straighter and failed to notice the way Bakugo bit the inside of his cheek.

‘I never hated you.’ 

“Which - y’know isn't a lie per say.” You continued, “Now we get close during adulthood cause of uh..." Your voice trails off as you scramble to try and figure out where to take your fake dating cover story. 

It's not like you could've said that you and Bakugo were paired up by your PR teams because you were both slipping in the ranks.

Bakugo sighed and spoke up, finishing the story for you. "Rivalry."

You stared blankly at him.

"Rivalry. You know... constantly going up against each other for the number one spot.” He stepped towards you. “And the constant butting heads drew me towards you.” Bakugo’s eyes flickered down your body, “It pissed me off but it was new. Fresh.” before his gaze pulled itself back up to your face, “To have someone who would go head to head with me." He finished, his body mere steps away from your own, his body heat seeping into your own skin.

You stared at him.

Bakugo stared back.

You continued to hold the eye contact before he quickly averted his gaze, the tips of his ears flushing a soft red.

"A-Ahem... anyways. Do we go in?" He stammered, motioning to the door. "After you." Bakugo mumbled, pulling the door open, following in at your heels.

"I'll do the talking. Just. Sit still and look pretty, mkay." You mumbled under your breath.

You didn't catch the way Bakugo froze at your words, and you didn’t catch the way a bright red blush began creeping up his neck.

-

"It's so lovely that the both of you decided to take the time out of your busy days and even busier schedules to come speak to me!" the interviewer smiles, chipper and naive as they come. 

She meets your gaze and smiles.

"Ofcourse!" You say back. 

'Well it's not like we got a fucking choice dumbass. It's either this or suffer at the hands of Tommie and his sleep deprived ass.' 

You force a smile. 

Any more time spent in this small ass room with the smell of caramel seeping into the pores of everything might actually make you go homicidal.

Said source of the scent of sugar had his hand placed awkwardly on your thigh, and it was obvious he was uncomfortable with the whole ordeal. Bakugo was sweating and shifting around in his seat and it was clear to you at least - that the Pro Hero would much rather be somewhere else right now.

Picking up on his nervousness you placed a hand on top of his own.

'I'm here for you.'

Bakugo's eyes flickered to your face, and you smiled softly.

"...They tell me they hate me. And they do this? Is this just them telling me to calm the fuck down. Of course it is Katsuki. Pull yourself together idiot. You gotta make a good impression. Sell a story."

Bakugo exhaled softly and looked up at the interviewer.

"So. What do you wanna know."

-

Bakugo dropped his bag on his bedroom floor and ran a hand through his hair frustratingly. "What the fuck was that interview..." He grumbled under his breath.

Being a famous hero meant that he had eyes on him all the time. 

It came with the job of course.

He was used to the stares and the questions and all of it. He could read the interviewers like a book. It wasn't hard.

But you... You were like some sort of enigma. He just couldn't figure you out. You were strange. 

Treating him with so much care and love during the interview. And yet you hated him! You told him yourself! To his face!

But the whole interview… the soft touches, the longing stares, the whole… thing. If Katsuki wasn’t painfully aware of the fact it was all fake, he would’ve believed the whole thing. That you were in love with him.

That you were in love. With him.

“Love… what a fucking joke.”

-> Masterlist

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Masterlists

all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes

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i no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died

:⁠^⁠)

HOLY SHIT NAGI'S LIFT TAP INTO A JUMP KICK WAS INSANE I JUST GPT FUCKING CHILLS THATS MY MAAAAAAAN ARAAAAGGGGH

YESYEYSYEYESESSSSS OMGGG I LOVEEED ITTT!!!! he genuinely always has the craziest goals in the series!!!! like in the second selection his crazyyy two stage volley?!!! LIKE HELLO????

nagi my beloved nobody is doing it like you i fear

ᝰ.ᐟtweets between the racers #2

.ᐟcw: vulgar language, dark jokes, crack

"𝑂ℎ, 𝑙𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛', 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙, 𝑦𝑒𝑎ℎ" - 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑦 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑦𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟

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