hold on

“doll open the door,” how many times has dabi repeated that phrase? three? four? maybe five. he doesn’t know, can‘t be bothered to care. his mind is way too occupied to even count. a hand is buried in his black spiky hair, the other fisted and pressed against the door that separates you from him. “we can talk about this. just open the damn door, will you?”

you respond with silence. you know that dabi could easily burn down the door to the bathroom you‘ve been hiding in for the past half hour. yet somehow he still hasn’t, and you‘re thankful for that. thankful that he still has the mind to give you space and not just burst through despite everything you said earlier.

you sigh once again. pulling your knees impossibly closer to your chest and running your hands through your face. you feel so small, so tired, so sick of it.

it wasn't supposed to turn into an argument. in fact, the conversation started so vanilla and simple that not even a single negative thought came across your mind. but of course, it is oikawa tooru. anything can change in a split second with just a flick of his hand.

sighing, you run your hands over your face in a frustrated manner. the words you wish to utter are at the tip of your tongue, yet you can't find it in yourself to even utter them; afraid that once they leave past your lips, five years worth of loving him might just go out of the window.

"i'm sick of arguing with you tooru. i'm going out to clear your head." you say it loud in clear. oikawa's face stays contorted. his eye brows drawn into the centre of his face while a pout hangs from his lips. had you to not argued, this sight might have been something you would have cooed at. "don't wait for me." you say as you push past his shoulders, grabbing your keys and leaving the flat without another word.

solace

— comfort is far from dabi's forte.

— usually he'd be giving hell to people rather than comfort

— as a villain dabi refrains himself from getting emotionally involved with someone because that's what a villain does

— he's a villain. crude, heartless, brash, and everything of the likes

— however, for you, dabi would probably keep an open space just for you and you only

— dabi knows about your tendencies, those tendencies being your panic attacks

— he knows how bad they can get, and he can only do so much with that heart of his

— but for you, he will do everything and more just to give you the comfort you want

atsumu’s waiting, he’s been waiting for you to come back into his arms and fix your differences, yet you’re still not back. usually, you would come back after an hour or two later, but it has been four hours later and you’re still not back. a frown glazes his face, there’s an uneasy feeling in him, telling him that he has messed up and something really bad just happened. his breathing hitches, as lump forms in his throat when he listens to his gut. without wasting any more time, he grabs his phone to dial your number, however, before he can unlock the device an unknown number calls him first.

something in his better judgment tells him that there must be something wrong and that he should answer it right now. so he listens and does so.

“hello?” voice laced with concern, he hesitantly lets out words.

“good evening, is this miya atsumu?” an even deeper frown gets to his face. he doesn’t recall the voice from the other side of the phone being familiar. but nonetheless he answers the question.

“yeah, this is miya atsumu. is there anything you want from me.” it comes out harsher than intended, but atsumu can’t help it. not when this person is taking up his time, he’s supposed to be on the line with you right now asking you about your whereabouts. 

“this is tokyo medical center, i’m calling you to inform that (l/n) (y/n) the person who listed you as her emergency had just come into the hospital. she had come into the hospital after a major accident, and now she’s undergoing surgery.”

one plus one, equals three

you’re looking down at the test stick, a mix of emotions surfing with anticipation causing a wave of disarray in your mind. you’re biting down on your lip a bit too hard, to the point where you can feel the metallic taste of your blood on the tip of your tongue. your breath is caught up in your throat while your foot bounces up and down, awaiting for the result to pop up on the small screen of the white  pregnancy test.

you’ve been awfully sick for the past two weeks. waking up only to then run to the nearest bathroom and puking out everything that you had last night, constant nausea throughout the whole day, absurd cravings at the most random hours of the day, bloating and feeling full even if you’ve only eaten the small bit of food; you’ve had enough of it.

you wanted to check-in with the doctors, but you felt like it would be too much of a hassle to go to the nearest hospital, and you’ve only missed two days of your period so you really can’t really be too sure yet. so instead of going to the doctors, you went down the convenience store, bought yourself not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests and using them.

jealousy, jealousy

part one

‘it’s unpleasant.’ shoto todoroki says to himself.

his eyes follow where you move, his fingers itching to pull the man away from you. bakugo snorting as he spins you around in the kitchen, which you two thought was empty, apart from you two. it supposedly was, before the bi-coloured man had walked down from his room to grab a bottle of water.

“katsuki!” his eyebrow raises when you laugh out the name of the man. katsuki? how are you two in first name basis? have you been friends for that long? were you two well aquatinted when you and him were still close?

“okay, princess, what now?” the usual gruff voice you’d hear from bakugo, gone; replaced with a much softer tone, one that you’d usually hear if he would be talking to his mother on the phone. and the call name, princess? since when did you two even become that close?

TODOROKI SHOTO

— he initiated the idea

— momo broke up with him and now he’s bitter as fuck

— he wants to get back at her, wanting to prove her wrong for breaking up with him

— so what better way than to purposely date someone else for that sole petty reason

— he wants to fake date you because he knows you and momo are close friends

— you didn’t want to agree, because you could not hurt momo like that

— but you have feelings for shoto, way before he and momo even dated

— so now you’re stuck with this petty heart broken man, and you want to get rid of your feelings so bad, but he’s making that so difficult

TELLING DABI YOU’RE PREGNANT

— tough titty babe

— now i’ll be a hundred percent honest with you

— there are two possibilities

— it’s either he leaves or stays, no in between

— but if he really does think about it, he might consider it though

you anxiously heave a sigh, leaning forward towards the mirror as your fingers dig into the corners of the sink. the small test stick in between your fingers causing anxiety to creep up to you. you find it difficult to breathe with every passing second, almost as if you’re drowning in water.

dabi has made it clear in multiple occasions that he is against having kids, that he won’t want any little hell spawns at his care. he has repeatedly said that if he is to have kids, he’d probably use the milk trick and never come back, ever again. you’ve never thought about it before, but now that you’re at the situation, you have no clue with what you’re supposed to do.

“panties in a twist?”

the voice sends a chill down on your spine. you drop the test down the floor with a yelp, frightened eyes looking at him as you try to breathe in as much air as you possibly can.

“hi— no. i’m fine.” you say rather quickly, making sure to slowly snag the test using your foot and hiding it from him, trying to be discreet but fail miserably when dabi sees your foot moving the object towards you.

“what are you hiding from me?” he asks, moving closer towards you. your eyes fall down on the ground, causing you to pick up the item faster and move it to your hand. “what is that?”

DABI (TOUYA TODOROKI)

— i am a firm believer that dabi has an alcohol tolerance as high as the burj khalifa

— even if he doesn’t get drunk-drunk like everybody else, he gets very tipsy and clumsy, basically borderline drunk

— he won’t hurt anyone when he’s ‘drunk’, instead he’s very flirty and sappy towards anyone

— so when the league knew he was in with the alcohol , they immediately pulled you from wherever you were and warped you into the bar

you’re dumbfounded, to say the least. everything that had just happened, occurred in a blink of an eye. you were just standing at you apartment living room about five seconds ago and now you’re in the league’s bar.

“what the—”

“dabi needs your help! damned burnt bitch is drunk, you better do something.”

you snap your head to the direction of the masked man. his hands positioned in front of him as one finger points at the hunched man at the bar counter.

“is that dabi?” you question, not quite sure what you’re looking at due to the dim lights of the bar. “and what do you mean help?”

“(y/n)-chan! dabi is drunk and no one wants to deal with him because he’ll be so gross!” toga says. running towards you with a smile on her face. her hands open wide, now wrapping around your waist. “will you please help us?” she says with her twinkling eyes.

you’re baffled, to say the least. a snort leaves past your lips. you’ve always been proven that dabi was never the man who ever tolerated alcohol, his tolerance is high off the charts, so to hear that he actually is down? excited might just be an understatement.

“alright i’ll help you, you two can go now. have a great night.” you tell them, ushering them to go down the halls and leave you to deal with the drunk man himself. and once they’re out of sight, you turn on your heel, a smile now forming on your face.

smoke weed

you’re supposed to be asleep at this hour just like everyone else. you’re supposed to be in the comfort of your sheets, rolling around as your dreams play vividly in your mind. slugging around as you let your consciousness slip away, just like everyone else.

in the peace, comfort, and silence of your own dorm.

but of course someone just had to interrupt that peaceful moment of yours.

“wha- hitoshi??” you rub your eyes tiredly, walking to your windows when you see the familiar silhouette of the 3-A student. “it’s the middle of the goddamn night! why are you here?!” you can only whisper shout at him, trying to keep yourself from being caught.

“sorry kitten , you wouldn’t pick up your phone.” he grins, positioning to material to allow himself to make a good swing into your dorm room. “let me in will ya?”

you can only huff and roll your eyes at him, stealthily opening your window to allow him in. “only because i don’t want vlad to get mad at me.” you mumble as he lets himself in, holding a ziplock bag at hand.

your eyes squint at the sight. you’re sure you’ve seen that before yet you can grasp what that is. it’s probably because of the dim room, but you’re very much intrigued with what your boyfriend has to offer. “hitoshi what the hell is that.” you mumble.

he doesn’t seem to hear you, folding up his capture tool as he tucks it away. “this thing really does come with great uses, doesn’t it kitten?” he chuckles, turning his head to face you.

“yeah, i’m pretty sure it aizawa caught you with that, he probably would have killed you by now.” you scoff, grabbing the baggie and flopping on your bag. “not to mention this. what the fuck is this supposed to be?” you ask.

he looks at the bag before looking at you, placing his material on your chair as he smiles rather mischievously at you. “mm, try to guess.” he says, crawling towards you on the bed.

your brows furrow at him, suddenly feeling out at this sudden behaviour. “a fucking brownie and a rolled sheet of pap- oh.”

you drop the bag to your side, giving shinsou the look as he widely grins at you. and the more that you look at his features, the more you notice the subtle redness in the rims of his purple hues, that odd ever so present grin on his face, and the smell that replaces his usual mint scent.

of fucking course.

“shinso hitoshi, how high are you.” it’s more of a demand rather than an answer, but not that you mind. what you mind though is the way he gives you that dopey grin as he runs a finger on the side of your face.

“mmm, sero and kaminari made edibles and rolled a joint,” he snorts, smiling so idiotically as he replays the scene in his head. “they let me join so i did one, and ate about a fourth of the tray.”

you run a hand down your face as he let out a deep exhale. “are you fucking kidding me.” you heave, eyes closed as you try to think positively.

“hn, no. even bakugo was there, l-o-l.” you bite the inside of your cheek, fingers bunched up together as you try to not break character and scold him for acting so irresponsibly.

“so what are you doing here?”

his grin then drops, now turned into a playful smirk. “what else am i doing here other than wanting to smoke weed with my girlfriend?” you wish you could wipe of that proud looking smile on his face with a slap, but you just can’t help but coo at how proud and happy he looks.

“let me get this straight you—”

“— i came into the 3-B dorm, partly high. used my capture tool to sneak into your dorm, to get you high-heh-too.” he chuckles. “are you proud of me baby?”

“oh no, i’m fucking mad at you.”

your giggles echo through the room as you take a bite into the last brownie, other finger holding the joint you’re sharing with your boyfriend.

“so- so i laughed because it was so fucking stupid, not funny but stupid. aren’t you supposed to laugh at something that’s unfunny but like- it becomes funny cause it’s so fucking stupid.”

you snort then laugh at your boyfriend, brownie crumbs getting all over the bed as the smell of marijuana lingers around the room. your high asses can only laugh at each other’s stupidity.

“mmm, these brownies are so good.” you grin, taking the last bite before looking into his eyes. “do you think sero could make some—”

“(y/n)! is shinsou in there??”

the sun has already risen, oh shit.

petty party

hawks is flying over the skyscrapers, mind still clouded from your argument earlier. he thinks back to what he said, and what you said. he tries to think of anything specific you said, anything that might strike a nerve, but there’s nothing in particular.

thinking nothing of it, he slows his flight when he spots the building of your shared apartment. his avian eyes squint to see a figure in the inside, and thankfully you’re still there.

he puts his wings behind him, straightening it so that he can enter through the window in a swift rate. carding his hands through his hair, he stills for a split second before straightening himself and boosting towards the window.

he directly boost towards the window and expects to go through.

that’s until his head bumps straight against the polycarbonate window.

“fuck!” he hisses out loud, placing his hand on his head as he rubs the spot that went first against the window. he bites on his bottom lip as he holds back the pained whine that threatens to leave past his lips. “what the fuck was that.”

he stares at the window, seeing your figure through the screen. he squints his eyes, slowly nearing the material once again, but this time cautiously.

he presses his hand against the object, trying to make out what it is. you still pay no mind to whatever he’s doing. sure enough you know that he’s at the window, you heard him when he hit his head against the screen, and you know damn well that hurt like a bitch.

but you are sure he hit his head hard because he doesn’t even realize it’s a window that separates you two, until he sees his own reflection on it.

“what the... (y/n)!” he whines when he realizes, pressing his fingers against the window. you merely chuckle at him, still not looking at his direction. “this isn’t fair!” he yells out, fist now banging against the window.

“baby!” he says, eyes now turned into like those of a puppy as he bangs on the window for you to open it. “what did i do??” he asks you, trying to pin point what he said earlier. he’s sure he didn’t do anything that bad for you to—

“if you’re walking out of that door, we’re over.”

“i’m flying going out the window instead. we can talk about this later, kid.”

“oh fuck.” he mumbles, now remembering what he said and what you said. he pulls out his phone, pressing on your contact and waits for you to answer, which you thankfully do.

he didn’t expect you to be this petty, but of course you’re filled with all of surprises, he should’ve known, you’re his significant other after all.

“kid come on open the window.” he says when he hears you pick up. you only chuckle at his desperation, trying to not laugh. “please kid.” he whines, but you simply laugh this time.

“aw, little keigo can’t come through the window?” you say in a baby tone, pouting playfully at him. he looks at you with pleading eyes, trying to sway you but you don’t bend to his will.

you pull out your middle finger, showing him a tight smile before cutting the call and walking into the room. his eyes widen as you leave the space, pressing into the dial button once more but you don’t respond, you clearly left your phone on the table.

“goddamnit— kid!”

he reaches out his hand into his pocket with a huff, rolling his eyes at your petty act, reaching out for your keys. only to then realize that it’s not there, and just his luck, of course it’s inside the house on the coffee table beside your phone.

“god fucking damnit.”

i‘m here, just right here

dabi isn’t one to be usually emotionally in contact. most view and perceive him as a man who doesn’t, and probably wont ever portray any sort emotion with anyone around. he’s always putting up the face, a cool facade that can mask each and every one of his emotions.

but one can only hold up a face and bottle so much emotion in one sitting, and unfortunately dabi is no exception to that.

we‘re okay, right?

hoarse voices, tired faces, unkind words.

you wish you would have gone to sleep earlier, rather than waiting for him to get home. none of this would have happened if you didn’t sit on the damned couch whilst you waited for him to appear with that damn smile on his face.

but of course you had to and instead of seeing that crooked smirk, he had this frown on his face, and that was the start of this whole argument