bee

20 i write sometimes

[aquilacalvitium]

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

[aquilacalvitium]

Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again

[lelabeefr]

Toxic!Dabi x F!reader

In which Dabi is your toxic boyfriend and your relationship with him is like a live wire next to an open flame.

warnings: toxic relationship, violence, mentions of trauma, using trauma as an insult (let me know if i missed anything pls)

a/n: hi guys, this is my first time posting on this app. i hope you guys enjoy :)

wc: 1090

Five isn’t a big number. Five pencils? Five books? Five bottles? Five is, objectively, a small number.

That number seems bigger when you’re using it to count how many arguments you’d had with your boyfriend in the past seven days. It was the same thing every day– the same bullshit, something so small, getting blown way out of proportion.

Tonight it had been about how he’d burned you when you’d reached out for his arm. You tore your hand away from him as soon as you started to see the bright, blue flames licking at your body from where they burned on his arm. 

He’d laughed– a sharp, mocking noise at the sight of your pain. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ baby,” he’d groaned the words like your pain had been annoying– an inconvenience instead of something worth caring about.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ dick.” You snapped back without thinking, the words coming out harsh and venomous. You grabbed your red, tingling skin with your opposite hand, eyes locking onto the way Dabi’s neck muscles tensed, his eyes narrowing further.

Your eyes narrowed in response– an automatic response to his anger.

“Watch your mouth.” He gritted out, his usual, mocking smirk turning sharper before changing into a grimace. The heat from his fire lingered even after you pulled away, biting deeper into your skin like it had teeth. 

“You burned my skin you asshole, don’t tell me to watch my mouth. You LAUGHED.” Your voice came out more like a frustrated growl than anything else, which seemed to only piss him off worse.

“You heal fast, it’s not like it burnt you bad.” He snapped in response. This was a common theme between the two of you. He hurt you, you got angry, he got angrier.

“It’s the principle of it, you intolerant shit!” You snarled as you stepped toward the bathroom sink, running the burn under cold water. The sound of his boots hitting the floor as he followed you rang in your ears. Your muscles tensed on their own– your body knew the pattern, it was frequent. 

You felt his presence as his figure loomed in the doorway behind you, a burning feeling on your back as you felt his eyes lock onto your form. Dabi stared at you often– but this stare was different. It felt wrong. 

“You have a really nasty attitude.” His voice came out eerily calm– it gave you the sort of feeling you get when you swear something is lurking in the dark behind you. The hair on your arms stood up, goosebumps forming on your arms as you subconsciously quieted your breathing.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have one if you weren’t such an evil cunt.” You spoke in the same tone as him, eyes meeting his in the bathroom mirror.

“I guess it makes sense though. It's probably those Todoroki genes.” His entire body froze as the words left your mouth. You knew about his father– the two of you had met as kids, both a part of an abusive household. He’d run into you a few houses down from him, you’d been on the curb crying with blood dripping from your nose. The two of you had connected then. 

Unfortunately for you, when he disappeared, you realized it was the kind of connection that made you want to tear your own heart out over his ‘death’. It had sent you down a worse path– you’d ended up killing your own father the last time he’d put his hands on you.

Somehow, you’d found your way into the League of Villains. 

And there he had been.

“I used to ask myself how that man could’ve done that to you,” he spoke slowly, his eyes locked onto yours through the mirror.

“Now I see why.” The nonchalance in his voice while speaking of your own traumas flipped a switch in your brain, and you whipped around, slinging your fist at him angrily. He caught it with ease, shoving your hand backward and causing you to stumble.

Your shoulder slammed into his as you shoved past him, walking into the bedroom you shared with him in the small apartment. You found a bag easily– this wasn’t the first time you’d left him.

He appeared in the doorway again, watching every move you made as you shoved your things into the bag. Your muscles were tense, jaw tight, eyes narrowed. His uncaring attitude only made things worse.

“You leavin’ again?” His words came out sharp and annoyed as he rolled his eyes. Despite the annoyance in his voice, the thought of you leaving to god knows where was something that made him absolutely livid. 

“I give it two days before you come crawling back like you always do.” He scoffed, stepping behind you. One of his hands snaked around your waist, the other reaching forward to grip your jaw.

“You don’t know how to function without me, pretty.” He growled the words in your ear, voice low and calm like he wasn’t the slightest bit worried.

“I’ll be here to take care of you when you come back, though. No one is ever gonna be there for you like that the way I am,” He moved his head to place it on yours.

“You’re so angry, so mean. Such an aggressive woman. I’m the only one capable of tolerating you this way. Don’t you remember how hard it's always been for you to keep people around?” There was a sharp look in his eyes as he fed you lies to confirm your own anxious thoughts about yourself. 

The words caused you to freeze for a half second, your scowl slipping into something more emotional. 

He noticed. He always noticed. 

“Oh, pretty girl,” his voice dripped with faux empathy as his thumb slowly slid across your jaw– god, his touch. Your anger seemed to slowly dissipate as you leaned into his touch subconsciously. 

“Don’t be sad, I didn’t mean it bad.” He purred in your ear as he continued to rub your jaw. A shiver ran down your spine as he roughly nipped at your ear, his smirk sharp.

“Y’know I love you.” He whispered the words, and they filled your brain in a matter of seconds. Your grip on the bag in your hand loosened before the bag fell back into the floor, the thump muffled by the carpet. 

“I know,” you whispered. Your eyes lowered, a broken sort of exhaustion settled deep into them. 

“I love you too.” 

Five arguments this week.

Six, if you counted tomorrow.

[writingdose]