#raining outside

[mothkake]

It’s raining outside and it looks like I’m either about to be dragged into a horror movie or be given a quest by an npc

Don’t know which one it is but I’m scared🫩

[thephotographerthatranks]

a rainy day in the parking lot

[honey-bri-books]

[cyeria]

raindrops and water

[sunnysidekisses]

Letters to the broken

Synopsis; in which our lovely y/n sends soft, encouraging letters to one who needs it most. The recipitent spends too long trying to find you, until a fateful night.

Word count: 1K

TW: alcohol consumption, blood, death, depression like states of mind

Playlist

'dearest dabi' your letter started, otherwise blank and unforgiving. Dabi, upon deep searching and a little thought, grew up in an environment similar to many of the world's most unfortunate.

your table lamp flickered briefly, emitting soft yellow light. your page quivered from a breeze drifting in, curtains fluttering in the open window as you put down a hand to prevent the page escape.

many would deem this unwise, and yet you persisted. It could help dabi feel a little less lonely, a little less lost. you back down your pen to begin writing what would become the first of many letters.

when you completed it, you sighed in relief. you would send it his way in the morning, for now you needed rest. sending a soft prayer to whatever ruled the skies, the descent into bed was pleasantly plush.

The sun shone upon your face, rousing you from your slumber. a glance to the left confirmed you needed to send the letter on it's way. rising, you stretched and began your day.

Grabbing your coffee, slinging your bag over your shoulder and grabbing your letter. Off to work you went. A quick stop at the post office was the days only delay before you arrived at your office.

***

A letter, addressed to him, sat on the bar counter. No return address given and generic handwriting.

"what's this?" He acquired of kurogiri, a shrug was his only awnser. "It showed up in the mail."

Dabi gave a non-committal snort before grabbing a glass of whiskey and sitting down to read. It was probably a prank by his determination, but it never hurt to see.

Maybe he could use it as blackmail material.

'dearest dabi' the letter began. He sipped his whiskey and sat down for the ride.

The letter was signed n/n, no last name given.

---

The letters kept coming. Usually, they appeared each week, sometimes even more. At first, dabi had dubbed it a prank, yet a month later yielded no results. So, he decides to track down the mystery writer.

His biggest question was why, but first he had to find you.

***

You had been writing these letters to dabi for awhile, a month or so now. Truth be told, sometimes the prospect of never getting a reply sounded bleak. You also valued your safety.

Sinking deeper into your hot bath, you pulled out your phone to check for updates on dabi and other villains.

But mostly dabi.

You may not be a pro-hero, but information was still valuable. To no one's surprise, more charred corpses, courtesy of dabi, had been found scattered throughout the city.

The news was droning on about some other suspected villain when you shut off your phone. Scrolling through your social media was, by far, better than the news.

Setting down your phone with a satisfied sigh, watching the steam rise from the water. Sometimes, the silence was a blessing. The water rose to your chest as you melted, skin flush from the heat.

After a long soak, you made yourself dinner. Sitting down to write, you hummed happily. These letters had proved to be more therapeutic than you had thought they would be.

---

Typing away, you paused your work to take a short break. Looking around, everyone else was still working diligently at their desks.

Red flashed in the corner of your eye. You looked outside, only to see a floating man with a faceless mask. His mouth curled up in a smile before an impact struck, taking with it your consciousness.

---

You came to, only to wretch. A head was rolling not a foot away from you, eyes glassy. Blood covered the room, the office in shambles. Loud voices came in and out of focus as your hazy vision casted around for something, anything but death.

No such luck before you were taken out. Rescued, someone claimed. You laughed brokenly at that. You had not been saved.

Not in the way that counts.

***

"breaking news! Young woman only survivor on freak accident this afternoon."

Dabi wanted, no wished for the TV to self destruct. As he was preparing to break it himself, something caught his ear.

"n/n was fortunate, we hope to..."

N/n.

He found you.

***

You were numb, drowning in this state of nothingness. You couldn't bring yourself to feel anything about your unfortunate luck.

How could you? When so many had died and yet you had lived.

Three sharp knocks shook you from your current state. "Come in." You croaked, voice hoarse from misuse.

In walked the famous recipient of your letters. Dusty, scarred hide and all. Icy eyes stare at you before asking a seemingly simple question.

"why?"

"because," you awnsered, "The cracked and the broken deserve sympathy too."

He gave a dry laugh, inviting himself into your home. "I could kill you, y'know."

"I'm aware, not that i care."

He paused at your response, looking at you long and hard.

"join the club." He finally whispered.

Your returned smirk was hollow.

***

Dabi, it seemed, had no intention of leaving. He brought in a tiny duffel filled with what you assumed were his belongings. He came back often enough. Without a job, you never questioned how dabi kept you fed.

You didn't talk much. Choosing silence over speaking the aching words begging to be spilled.

When you did talk, you both left any wounds be.

Dabi could tell how you felt. Could see it in the glassiness of your eyes. Not once did he mention it. You two were practically strangers sharing a home.

This was unchanging until a night, many weeks later.

You were crying, the first display of emotion in weeks. The loss was finally registering. the grief finally taking hold.

The fear of it happening again, dragging icy claws up your throat. Choking your sobs.

A hand, hot and callused ran down your back. Dabi. He made no comment, had been there himself. Knew better than to push.

His hands rubbed soothing strokes until you started to calm. Prompting him to finally speak.

"shhh, little one. I've got you."

Later that week, you began to recieve letters. Letters from dabi.

[thoselovelythings]

[aloadofoldtwaddle]

🌧️🌧️🌧️

[sanie-sanie]

Mặc cho giông bão ngoài cửa sổ, hoa vẫn nở. Vàng ươm