leleyro

Latest Posts by leleyro

𐔌✧.* ꜰʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ೀ⋆ || Eating some ice cream leads to stronger bonds, vulnerability and radiant smiles ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

. ♬ ݁˖ || inspo song : spotify version & yt version ᯓ★

ᝰ.ᐟ || shoto todoroki x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, words of affirmation, 891 word count •°. *࿐

The young boy wasn't aware of how he found himself in such a position.

His bubbly classmate followed him around like a shadow — every second of the school day — practically glued to his side.

Shoto may be dense, but he's not completely clueless, he knew about her strong feelings for him.

Maybe because she's so unapologetically open about it but still...

He doesn't particularly mind her presence, often feeling more comfortable if she were at his side then not, growing used to the hyper melody — her voice — next to him.

Y/N is quite an enthusiastic girl, so he's not that shocked when she calls him to join her outside the dorms, the duo sitting on a bench as they share a cold snack together.

She smiles, easily breaking the joint popsicles, handing him half of it as he hesitantly accepts.

"I always think stuff tastes better when shared!"

He silently nods.

There's not much he has to say whenever they're together, after all, she seems to understand his quiet nature better than most people.

"Too bad I have no younger siblings, I ate these alone growing up."

She quiets down for a second — the gears already turning in her head — and proceeding to give him a mixed look of amusement and curiosity.

"Hey 'roki, are you also an only child?"

He meets her intrigued gaze, averting his eyes for a moment as he hums in thought.

Eventually deciding to spare her from the situation regarding his eldest sibling, maybe he'll tell the girl another time, but he'd much rather keep this moment light hearted.

As it always is with her — something peaceful — away from all the struggles of his life back home.

"I have two older siblings... a brother and sister," he softly mumbles.

Her eyes light up at the new information, tilting her head as she continues.

"Do you all look alike?"

His brows slightly furrow as he wonders — never really giving it much thought before — slowly recalling Natsu and Fuyumi's features, looking up to the starry sky as he remembers the similarities.

"Probably yes."

She giggles as her imagination runs wild, previously assuming he'd be an only child, given his stoic demeanor.

The confirmation only makes her questions multiply.

"Similar personalities?"

A family full of people just like him would sure be a funny site, if true. He shakes his head, re-meeting her fascinated gaze with a calmer expression.

"No, they are nice."

She immediately replies, as if bothered by his words, the subtle negative self-esteem catching her attention.

"You're nice too— I mean, you're nicer!"

His eyes soften, just barely, not saying anything in response as he takes a bite out of the popsicle.

Y/N seems to notice, her smile growing at the realization as she asks another teasing question.

"Which one of you is better looking?"

"Both of them are beautiful."

She playfully pouts, giving him a look of disapproval and nodding with confidence at her next words.

"No way! I refuse to believe it, you're the most beautiful 'roki."

Her gaze returns back to her cold snack, casually taking another bite like she was just pointing out the obvious, smiling at the delicious taste. Not even needing to know what his siblings look like to be sure of her answer.

He stares at her for a moment, processing what she just said.

A small smile slowly breaking on his face as he looked forward, a warm sensation felt in his chest, a feeling of much needed tranquility as they sat next to each other.

"You're probably the only one that says so..."

His smile was gone before she could catch it.

She hums.

"I don't think that's true, but even if it is, not only do I think you're better, I will always think that way."

Their gazes slowly meet, warmth filling both of their bodies despite a soft breeze passing by, heartbeats steadying in unison.

It was odd.

Nothing out of the ordinary was happening, yet the air around them felt different tonight, more intimate.

"If they're worth 100 marks, then you are worth 101. That special point will always be saved for you."

No other words had to be said, the sound of rustling leaves being long forgotten in the background.

Her eyes showed nothing but sincerity and affection.

It was him that broke eye contact first, looking straight ahead as another soft smile breaks out on his face, not even trying to hide it behind his walls anymore.

He doesn't visibly light up often but when he does... she's right — he truly is beautiful.

The fact that she had the power to make him feel at ease, made her more thrilled than anything else. She'd always offer him a place to be vulnerable; maybe that's why he likes having her around.

Have the urge to keep her just as close.

"The popsicle is good."

"Mhm?"

He looks back at her with a softened expression, making her heart jump at the sight.

"I'll buy you one, next time."

She shyly smiles.

"Okay, I'll be waiting then."

They weren't aware of how much time had passed, sitting together under the moon, having a small break from their rigorous training and studying — hectic student life in general.

But it didn't matter, not when they got each other, brought together by a pair of popsicles.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

ᴀ/ɴ ||| hi my beautiful flowers! wrote a todoroki fic bc i got burnt out from bkg after his birthday fic lolz... also this was inspired by a scene in the c-drama 'when i fly towards you' bc the mmc reminds me so much of shoto! now time for me to go, plus ultra! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ||| @leleyro (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

i miss his annoying ass

SEMI, SUGAWARA, osamu, IWAIZUMI, sakusa, ARAN, USHIJIMA, tsukishima, konoha, KAGEYAMA, kiyoko, KITA, KYOTANI, aone, saeko

On your daughter's first day of kindergarten, Katsuki told her to keep her distance from the boys, or she'd contract their infectious disease, and she listened because papa is never wrong. You get a complaint from her teacher on the very same day, saying she wouldn't let any of the boys come near her. You go to scold Katsuki for it, but he's already holding her in his arms, spinning her and kissing her cheek, congratulating her for not contracting the infectious and stinky little boy disease.

miss pretty

{single dad!katsuki bakugo x kindergarten teacher f!reader}

summary: katsuki bakugo has never liked mess and always made sure his son and his life reflected just that. with years worth of a sparkling clean and organized home, toys put away and not once scattered about, and a barking knack over any calls of disorder in his life— meeting you, his sons sweet and sugary kindergarten teacher who was the definition of pure and who was for some reason turning his fiery heart into complete goo— was altering his boring strict cycles of no messes around… and for the better.

warnings: cursing, FLUFFF GALORE MY GAWD??, no smut but a lil steamy something, slight angst, afab!reader, katsuki thinks you are an ANGEL, sunshine x grumpy trope, mentions of abandonment, WHOLESOME AFFF, use of y/n, all characters are aged up.

word count: 11.4k

authors note: THIS MAKES ME WANT TO BE A MOTHERRRRR omg this one is sickeningly sweet and i’ve gotten a few requests to do sunshine x grumpy with sir katsuki and i WAS ALLL OVERRR ITTT i hope i fulfilled!!! <333 THANK YOU THANK YOU AS ALWAYS FOR ALL OF YOU BEING SOOO SWEETT TO MEEE I LOVE YOUUUU MWAAAHHH :] <33333

katsuki bakugo hated messes.

“oi!” he grunted, his son’s little head turning to look at him as he munched on his gummy fruit snacks from the backseat. “you better not leave that wrapper in here. take it outside with you when i drop you off.”

“kaaayyy!” his son dragged out happily, completely unphased by his dads snappy personality as he contemplated on which color fruit gummy to eat next.

“and wash your hands too. ask your teacher.”

“mhm!” he chirped.

“and don’t be a brat. pay attention.”

“yup yup!”

and for the most part, his life reflected that almost entirely— raising his son to always clean up after himself and not make bombastic huge messes around the house, begrudgingly understanding that he’s a small growing human, that a little spill of apple juice or two is basically guaranteed… but he just hated mess, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t raise his son right to be a clean and organized man even at five years old— katsuki keeping everything in his life practically spotless.

that was of course, until he met you.

katsuki shoved through the other parents in line as he went up to the front desk in the main office with a grip on his sons little hand, not giving a damn about the glares and huffs of bewilderment he got as there was no way in hell he was gonna wait like an idiot with the rest of them.

the lady at the front desk raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“can i help—”

“where the fuck is room twenty four.”

her eyes bulged open as the rest of the parents in line softly gasped and murmured.

“e—excuse me?—”

he rolled his eyes.

“room twenty four.” he pushed. “where is it?”

“sir— if you need me to help you i’d like you to wait in line until—”

“hah?! absolutely not.” he spat. “if i wait in that fucking line my son’s gonna be late why can’t you just tell me—”

“uh sir if you could—”

katsuki’s son giggled as he continued to spout profanities at the poor front desk lady.

“—sir please no foul language there are children around—”

“i don’t give a shit! just tell me where room twenty four is what the hell is so hard about that?!—”

“oh! that’s my class!”

katsuki snapped his head over, fiery red eyes shooting towards the voice until they landed on yours.

“is he one of my kids?” you smiled sweetly, eyes coming down to look at his son.

“oh—” he let his shoulders relax just a tad as he watched you fix the strap of his sons backpack on his shoulder. “i mean— if your class is twenty four—“

“it is!” you beamed, nudging your head. “i’ll show you where!”

“hiii miiiissss!” his son greeted, happy and silly as he followed you down the hall.

“hi honey!” you gushed, just as excited as he was as you patted over his blonde scruffy hair. “what’s your name?”

“milo!”

“nice to meet you milo! are you excited for your first day?”

“yeaaahh!” he cheered, smile bright as he grabbed your hand.

katsuki’s eyes widened.

“milo!” he snapped lowly. “what’d i tell ya? you can’t grab her hand like that you have to ask—”

“oh it’s alright!” you dismissed, smiling. “i don’t mind it at all! the other kids do it too.”

milo snickered and stuck his little tongue out at his dad, and katsuki rolled his eyes.

“is he yours?” you asked kindly, tilting your head.

“who else would he be…” he grumbled.

“i guess you’re right!” you giggled. “he looks just like you.”

katsuki’s eyes flickered to yours before dropping back down, a permanent furrow in his brows as you all rounded the corner.

“here we are—”

“ooo! ooo!” milo hopped up and down. “miss you have race cars?! dad can i please go?!”

he looked over, a mountain of toys scattered about in the classrooms play area, little kids already making a damn mess and the school day hadn’t even officially started yet.

“the hell you asking me for? ask your tea—”

“miss miss can i please go play with the race cars?!—”

“of course my love! go! go have fun.” you smiled, gently ushering him on before milo zoomed over to the play area and crouched down with the rest of the kids.

“oi!” katsuki barked. “put them away when you’re done!”

he huffed under his breath as he watched his son give him a thumbs up and fucking dump the entire bucket of race cars down on the ‘abc’ play rug, taking one in each hand and dragging them across floor.

“he’s so cuteee.” you grinned. “i’m glad he’s not afraid being it’s his first day.”

“oh fuck no.” he mumbled. “milo doesn’t care. the little runt doesn’t have a filter and does whatever the hell he wants without askin’ sometimes.”

he leaned against the doorsill as he watched milo converse with another kid and share a car, satisfaction in his chest that his son was sharing and being nice.

“but i guess he gets that from me.” he finished off.

you nodded. “but that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

he pursed his lips.

“in my experience, not really.”

you hummed.

“i think it’s definitely a good thing… i’d rather be assertive of things and not be afraid of what the consequences will be.”

katsuki looked at you, properly this time.

“what’s a kindergarten teacher afraid of?”

you shrugged, a slow playful grin spreading across your face.

“parents.”

he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and you quickly had to look away, a pink buzz to your cheeks at the way his big built arms flexed.

inappropriate inappropriate inappropriate—

“i don’t know how you do it..” he spoke lowly.

“do what?”

“take care of little shits all day.”

you laughed loudly, reeling over a bit as he watched you out of the corner of his eye.

“i don’t take care of them! i teach them.” you quipped cutely. “they’re small, but this is when their brains drink up the most knowledge… and i love to see the progress from the beginning of the year compared to the end! i love it all really.”

pure.

katsuki curtly nodded, your sweet positive ambiance throwing him completely off, as he doesn’t think he’s ever met or surrounded himself around someone who’s directly emmitted the feeling of sunshine and rainbows and candy as much as you did.

and his cheeks flared up for some reason.

“oh!” you looked to the time on your little wrist watch and walked inside your classroom. “it’s almost time to start! i have to wrangle them all in their seats heh!”

katsuki swallowed and nodded.

“milo!”

he turned and upon seeing his dad wave him over, milo dropped his toys and bounded to him.

“don’t give her a hard time alright?” he spoke sternly, nudging his head over at you for emphasis. “listen. listen and learn and be the best one in there.”

“kaaayyy!”

“and you let me know if any of the other kids mess with you or you deal with it yourself. you already know how—”

“beat the crap out of them!” he cheered loudly and katsuki’s hand flew to clasp over his sons mouth before his frantic eyes looked at you.

the last thing he needed was someone to call up fucking child protective services on him.

“he’s joking! he’s joking… fuck.”

you giggled hard and clutched your stomach, your pretty smile sending katsuki for a loop.

“no you’re absolutely right!” you waved your hands in front of your face, reassuring. “treat others the way you want to be treated, so if someone’s being mean to you, bite back milo, okay? and also let me know first though!”

katsuki gave you a wobbly tiny smile amidst his branded serious face, looking at his son then and ruffling up his hair.

“okay, go.” milo ran off. “and don’t let me pick you up with dirt all over your clothes ya hear me?!”

“byeee daaaddd!”

you could tell that behind his harsh exterior— the slight purse of his lips, stiff frame and bouncing leg gave away that he was only worried about his kid and his first day of school, a sight you’ve seen time and time again since you started working as a kindergarten teacher, and one that never failed to warm your heart.

“don’t worry!” you sweetly smiled, and katsuki switched his gaze over to yours. “i’ll watch him especially… okay? to ease the nerves.”

he softly snorted, attempting to play it off but internally relieved as he pushed himself off the doorsill and nodded, thankful that the teacher milo got was as kind as you.

“um…” he mumbled. “katsuki.”

you tilted your head. “katsuki?”

“it’s my name idiot.”

“oh!” you giggled, a blush rising in your cheeks again as you tried to simmer it down. “nice to meet you katsuki! i’ll see you after school then with milo?”

he stiffly nodded, the way his name sounded so sugary off your tongue something he’d never heard before in his life or was used to at all.

“…ya gonna tell me yours or what?”

“sorry!” you sputtered, laughing nervously. “sorry it just— flew! you know—”

you stuck your hand out and offered it to him.

“y/n!”

katsuki untangled his arms and firmly shook it, grip strong and one that nearly made you stumble forward as you caught yourself and smiled.

“i’ll see you katsuki!”

out of all of the kids you’ve taught, milo was by far the cutest one.

the little man was like your personal assistant— a little bee buzzing around as he followed you everywhere in the classroom and helped you clean up after the rest of the kids that didn’t, ‘yelling’ at some of them to and cutely scolding them whenever he’d catch them leave some things behind, and was always on watch for you like a security guard with his little balled up fists on his hips, surveilling the classroom for any misbehaving kids or messes that you’d missed throughout the day.

all traits you no doubt knew he got from katsuki, even if you had just met him. it was pleasantly obvious.

“thanks for helping me out today, milo!” you gushed, pushing another students chair in as they all sat down and chattered for lunch. “you made my job a lot easier!”

“really?!” he squealed, big glimmering eyes beaming up at you before he happily chowed down on some apple slices.

and you noticed then milo’s lunch was insane, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut up and molded neatly into the shape of panda bears, his watermelon and apple slices shaped like stars with carrots and celery lined up with a little wedge of lemon if he wished, tiny rice balls on the side for a little snack you figured in case what he had didn’t fill him up— all so considerate and careful…

“wow!” you exclaimed, kneeling down next to him. “your lunch looks so yummy my love! did your mommy make this?”

“nuh uh!” he shook his head, cheeks filled with watermelon. “my dad did!”

you faltered.

“katsuki made this?”

“who’s katsuki miss?” he asked curiously, sipping on his little juice box after swallowing the fruit in his mouth.

you giggled. “nothing! nothing. enjoy your lunch okay?”

you went to stand, but milo’s hand shot out and caught your wrist.

“can you— can you eat lunch with me?” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with some carrot pieces in his hands. “please.. i always eat with my dad but he’s not here…”

your eyes softened and you quickly nodded.

“of course! let me just go grab my lunch and ill bring it over! sounds good?”

“yaaaayyyy!” he cheered happily, arms up as you scooched a tiny chair over from a nearby table and sat with him, laughing at his cute expression.

you knew you shouldn’t use a little kid to pry… but you were guiltily curious as to know if katsuki was married or not for reasons that made you ridiculously flustered and red in the face over.

and you wanted to be respectful in case he was… since the ogling you did at his muscles this morning through his black ribbed tank was the most embarrassing moment of your career and one you hadn’t seen coming at all, it catching you off guard and feeling horrible if katsuki indeed had a wife.

but he didn’t have a ring on his finger…

“milo?” you spoke up softly.

he smiled big. “yes miss!”

“does your mommy make you lunch as well or just your dad?”

he shook his head. “just my dad! i don’t have a mom.”

your shoulders deflated.

he didn’t have a mom… at all?

you slowly reached over then and patted his blonde hair, smiling warmly as his cheeks went pink. “that’s alright! i’m sure your dad makes you lunches like this every time huh?”

“yeah!” he gasped excitedly. “yesterday he made pizzas and cut them into dinosaurs! it was so cool! and then!— and then this morning for breakfast i had waffles that looked like dynamite blasts!”

“oh my goodness!” you giggled, your heart absolutely thumping over the fact that katsuki was so dedicated to his son like that. “man, i wish my lunches were as cute as yours!”

his little eyes snapped to yours.

“i’ll tell him!”

your brows furrowed confusedly. “wha—”

“to make you lunch! i’ll tell my dad to make you lunch!”

your eyes widened and you frantically shook your head, cheeks blazing as you laughed. “oh no my love! that’s totally okay don’t worry about me silly—”

“i’ll tell him i’ll tell him i’ll tell him!—”

“milo it’s okay! i’m a big girl.” you grinned. “i’m supposed to make my own lunches.”

milo grumbled and plopped a carrot in his mouth, begrudgingly chewing as he sat there in thought.

“…will you at least let me share some of mine?”

you pouted at his generosity, wondering how a kid could be so sweet as you nodded and held your hand up.

“of course sweetie! whatever you wa—”

milo plopped all of his peanut butter sandwiches in your palm and grinned, earning a gasp from you.

“milo this is too much i can’t—”

“eat it! eat it! eait it!—”

by the end of the day, you managed to get milo to take back his sandwiches in exchange for one singular watermelon star piece, him still doing his regular duties of being your little assistant and helping you clean up after everyone before the final bell rang signaling the end of class, you carefully making sure each kiddo got their designated backpack (as there was often a mix up) and art pieces they made for their parents to take home— a permission slip for the end of the year field trip tucked away inside their bags.

and the minute you stepped outside with the rest of the kids, you were surprised to see that katsuki was one of the first parents there as he stood directly across from your classroom with crossed arms, an angry usual scowl on his face that made you laugh to yourself as you led your kids to sit down on a bench in a single file line until their parents physically came to get them or their vehicles pulled up.

“milo!” you tapped his shoulder gently. “your daddy’s over there!”

“DAAADDD!!”

milo jumped up and ran across the grass, his tiny arms out as katsuki smiled softly and crouched down to pick his son up and settle him on his lower abdomen, you wringing your fingers behind your back and walking up to them.

“were you a brat?” he grunted.

“nope!”

“did any kids mess with you?”

“nope!”

“did you leave a mess?”

“nope!”

you giggled, and katsuki’s eyes snapped in your direction.

“how was he?”

“he did so good!” you gushed, patting milo’s back as he grinned. “was my little helper and everything! didn’t leave a single mess behind and helped me clean up after everyone else… he even made sure everyone was paying attention and not misbehaving.”

“yeah! yeah! see dad?” milo poked his dads cheek. “i didn’t lie!”

“never said you lied you little runt.” he scowled. “…but good job.”

“thanks!”

katsuki set him down after milo started kicking his legs and saying something about the swings, him instantly running towards the playground and to the slide.

“did he actually do all of that?” he spoke up.

“oh yes!” you quickly nodded. “i’ve never had a kid do that before so it was really nice of him to!”

you detached your fingers from around your back and fiddled with them.

“you teach him well katsuki.”

he scoffed and turned his head, cheeks pink as he tried to regain his composure.

“damn right i do.”

you giggled then, the memory of milo telling you he didn’t have a mother suddenly popping into your mind as you watched him happily slide down the blue slide head first.

“hey i don’t mean to um..” you timidly began. “i don’t mean to pry but—”

katsuki raised a brow at you and you snapped your mouth shut.

“nothing! nothing nevermind—”

“spit it out.”

“no it’s alright! sorry i—”

he glared and you cowered, smiling bashfully as you bit your bottom lip.

“milo… milo mentioned that he didn’t have a mommy? i was just— wondering if that was true…”

“tch—” he shook his head. “that’s what you were afraid of askin’ me?”

“i told you i’m scared of parents…” you slumped cutely, and he chuckled.

“it’s just me and him.” he answered. “his mom’s never been a part of our lives.”

your heart sunk a little, eyes sad as your gaze shifted to milo playing and racing around with another kid.

“don’t do that.”

you jumped and looked at katsuki.

“do— do what—”

“look all sad and shit.”

he hesitantly reached over and planted an index finger to the crease between your brows, the feeling rough as he tried to gently drag it down and smooth over the lines.

“it’s fine.” he grumbled, letting his arm fall to his side. “it doesn’t bother him. at least i don’t think it does.”

“no!” you spoke quickly, a crazed blush on your cheeks. “it doesn’t! and milo speaks so highly of you… especially the lunches you make him.”

his brows furrowed. “his lunch?”

“yeah!” you nodded excitedly. “you prepare it so so well! how do you get his sandwiches to look like little bears? and his fruit?! every time i try to cut mine into stars they always break in half…”

he huffed out a laugh, finding your little whine funny as he reached over and ruffled up your hair, you smiling cheekily in response.

“do you use molds?” you asked politely. “to shape out the bear?”

“fuck no.” he scoffed. “i do it myself.”

your eyes flew open.

“what?! so that’s really just you? and the dinosaurs too? the pizza dinosaurs? and the waffles? the ones that looked like dynamite blasts—”

“jesus christ how much did that kid tell you?”

your face grew hot as you smacked a hand over your mouth.

“sorry!” you giggled. “i just was thinking— that his lunch was really cute and thoughtful…” you took your hand away from your face. “i’m really glad that you do little things like that for milo to make him happy.”

katsuki stared at you, your swarm of compliments and sweetness and sunshine and butterflies almost suffocating as you looked at him with those pretty doe eyes, his throat oddly closing up the longer he stared right back and allowed you to pull him into your world of wonder and abc blocks and puzzles.

but it wasn’t suffocating in a bad way, not at all.

and… maybe he did want you to pull him in.

“dad dad dad!”

milo ran over, sweaty and red faced as he reached the two of you.

“there’s a dead lizard in the slide!”

“a dead lizard?” you laughed, surprised as you reached for his little water bottle from his backpack on the ground and uncapped the lid, handing it over and ushering him to drink.

katsuki didn’t know why the domestic sight of you doing that made him melt a bit.

a bit.

“yeah miss! it was big and gross.” he breathed out after gulping some of his icy cold water. “but i buried him!”

his dads red eyes snapped down to his and narrowed.

“don’t tell me you touched that thing milo.”

“i did!” he giggled.

“oh my fucking god—” katsuki snatched his hand and started pulling him to the car as milo giggled and stuck his tongue out.

“it’s a prank! some other girl in my class did… but i helped with the dirt!”

you chuckled softly as you watched katsuki stop and roll his eyes, coming back over to you with a hyper milo.

“say bye to your teacher ya little runt. and you’re still taking a shower when you get home!”

“but i don’t wanna take a showeerrr!” milo whined, letting go of his dads hand and running to you, you crouching and extending your arms big with a pretty smile.

“bye my love!” you hugged him tight as he giggled. “i’ll see you tomorrow okay? and give your daddy a break. no more digging up dirt and playing with dead lizards.”

“kaayyyy!”

you both let go and he stepped back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before bouncing back to his dad.

katsuki choked on his spit.

“oi!” he barked. “you can’t just kiss her cheek milo the hell is going on with you?!—”

“it’s okay don’t worry!” you smiled kindly. “he’s just being sweet is all! i don’t mind.”

“you sure?” he pushed, milo snickering. “i—”

you waved him off and wrung your fingers behind your back, leaning forward.

“i’ll see you tomorrow morning kats!”

and he froze, nodding hard as he quickly took milo’s hand and backpack before walking to the car, his heart completely aflame in his chest and cheeks red as he led his babbling son further into the parking lot and inside the car, buckling him up in his car seat before hopping in himself and starting the engine, unbelieving that he had barely just met you and he was already thinking and acting like a fucking dumbass.

“and then we learned the days of the week! oh!— and we learned numbers! i can count to fifteen dad!”

“that’s good milo.” he responded, pulling out of the schools parking lot and craning his neck to see if he could catch a final glimpse of you and settling once he did, you so pretty and conversing so nicely with another kid until he was out of the lot.

“did you eat all of your lunch? y/n tells me ya shared with her.”

“i did! i did share with her.” he grinned. “she liked my lunch!”

“good.” katsuki gave him a thumbs up through the rear view mirror. “that’s good that you always share. especially with her.”

“yup yup! she’s preeettyyy.”

he rolled his eyes, but a small smile grew at the corner of his lips as he nodded curtly.

“that she is.”

katsuki continued to drop off his son personally at your classroom every morning before school.

even when it had been a couple of months into the year, at this point many students already used to their route to and out of class and their parents just dropping them off and leaving— them not even allowed on campus as security rounded every corner and told any parents who wished to go in that they weren’t supposed to, as per policy.

but not katsuki.

katsuki didn’t give a fuck as he stormed through the main office and ignored the calls of the front desk lady, her already used to the rude asshole who came through the building every morning as he strode by and down the hall to class twenty four… wanting to see you— his son’s pretty kindergarten teacher that was sweet and joyful and someone who was everything he wasn’t, his mind curious and filled with your giggles and smiles throughout the time that he’d gotten to know you and chat with you in the mornings and the afternoons, loving the way you were with milo and treated him like he was literally your own— always watching over him and making sure he had had enough to eat and drink and that his hands were washed when he wasn’t around.

and even katsuki himself— you bringing him candy bags from their classroom parties or donuts that were passed to faculty in the mornings and saving yours for him, treats he always took and ate with no questions asked even though he wasn’t a fan of sugary shit and junk food, always making the exception for you.

he had never experienced honest help like that… he’d never experienced someone caring enough about him and his son like the way you did so perfectly every single day…

and katsuki feared that he was a little obsessed.

“oh! miss y/n!”

“yes honey?” you responded kindly, opening a juice pouch for another student and handing it to them carefully during lunch.

milo dug into his lunch pail and pulled out a small container, sticking his hand up and offering it to you.

your brows furrowed, taking it from him.

“what’s this milo?”

“it’s from my dad!”

you stopped, heart dropping to your ass as you recounted his words.

from katsuki?

“your— your dad?”

“mhm!”

you shakily popped the lid of the container open, eyes widening and filling with hearts once you saw a mix of star shaped strawberries and watermelon and papayas, drizzled over with sparkling strings of honey and singular little blueberries scattered about.

“for me?” you asked softly, crouching down next to milo. “my love— are you sure this isn’t for you? i think your dad cut these up for you—”

“nope! for you!” he gave you a big toothy smile before stuffing his mouth with crackers. “he told me not to eat it and to give it to you.”

he swallowed and reached up, you tilting down your head so he could pat it just like you always did for him.

“i hope you like it miss! they look like the ones you told me looked cute!”

“i— i love them milo.. thank you!”

you picked up a papaya piece and ate it, entirely dazed and love struck as your tastebuds savored over the sweet velvety thick honey, literally blinking back tears at how thoughtful and kind katsuki was.

he didn’t have to do this at all… yet he took the time anyways out of his morning to do this for you.

and your heart nearly fucking gave out.

after school once you got your rowdy kids to sit neatly on the bench and wait for their parents, you extended a hand for milo and he hopped off the bench and took it, you both walking up to a waiting katsuki as he stood there with a soft smile on his face.

“hi kats!”

“hey.” he picked his son up and settled him over his abdomen, milo’s arms clinging around his neck and chin propped up on his dads shoulder as he was exhausted from a days worth of playing and learning.

“i wanted to um—” you peered up at him. “i um—”

his brows furrowed, and just as he was about to bark about you stumbling over your words, he stopped.

your bottom lip was trembling.

you hurriedly wiped your eyes.

“i wanted to thank you—” hic! “f—for the star shaped fruit this morning—”

“why are you crying dumbass?” he mumbled, reaching over and wiping some tears with his rough fingers.

“because it was so nice!” you sobbed, shoulders shaking as you let him wipe your cheeks. “and— and you put honey over it too! you didn’t have to do any of that for me!”

“tch—”

he flicked your forehead softly, not enough to hurt you but enough to get you to snap out of your hiccups as you sniffled.

“it’s just fruit y/n—”

“but it’s not.” you wiped your eyes again. “not to me anyways…”

katsuki slowly lowered his arm, gaze tracing over your pretty face and perfect hair and the way you cried over something so stupid, his brain unable to process the fact that an act as simple as cutting fruit up for you could make you this happy, and it made him want to see what you saw for once— how you saw the world for exactly what it was and appreciated it regardless of how big or small things were, not snippy or angry or spiteful over everyone and thinking everything was out to get him and his son.

“crybaby…” he grumbled. “i’m glad you liked it though.”

“i did kats.. a lot. thank you.” you wiped the last of your tears and smiled. “i’m sorry i cried.”

what a pretty sweet girl…

he shook his head and hoisted milo up, him completely knocked out with drool coming out of his mouth as katsuki felt it run down his shoulder, barely even noticing that though as his entire focus was trained purely on you.

was it okay if he… asked you out? would it be weird? would you tell him to fuck off?

katsuki internally rolled his eyes at his stupid fucking high school boy thoughts, though it didn’t alleviate the gnawing feeling that if you did tell him to fuck off… that he’d be angrily mortified at his fail and probably lose the right to talk to you since it’d be too awkward to.

but you were just so fucking sweet. all of the time.

“listen uh—” he cleared his throat, face growing hot. “i was wondering if ya wanted to eat dinner with me… sometime.”

you stared, eyes big and shocked and katsuki took it defensively and entirely the wrong way.

“forget it.” he snapped. “forget it i didn’t say shit—”

“no! no no—” you quickly shook your head. “no it’s okay i would!”

he stopped.

“you would?”

“of course!” you expressed sweetly, cheeks hurting from how big you were smiling as you tried to simmer down your giddy squeals. “i’d love to have dinner with you…”

his tense shoulders slowly relaxed, an eventual small smile growing on his face.

“a—alright uh…” he sighed. “i’d prefer to take ya somewhere nice but i don’t really have anyone to watch milo—”

you shook your head again, brows pinched. “oh no kats— we don’t have to go anywhere at all! we can order something in at your place and eat with milo? or— or my place?”

“my place.” he replied. “and i’ll cook.”

he cooks?!

“okay!” you giggled, your hand reaching up and patting over milo’s sleepy head gently. “sounds good!”

katsuki and you agreed on the details of the date after and bid each other bashful goodbyes, swooning as you watched him walk away into the parking lot with a sleeping milo in his arms and feeling like none of this was fucking real, for you couldn’t believe someone as handsome and cool as katsuki would ever be interested in someone like you.

and funnily enough, he felt the complete opposite, stressed and extra snappy as he cleaned the house from top to bottom (though it barely needed it), unnecessarily fixed the positioning of the furniture and made milo put away his toys, him not even whining or protesting like he usually did solely because the little man knew you were coming— pretty miss y/n with the pretty smile and the nicest lady he had ever met, and one he secretly hoped would be his new mommy every time he saw you and his dad converse before and after school, thinking you would fit the role perfectly.

especially after his dad had given you those fruits as a present!

“milo!” katsuki called. “come ‘ere!”

his son ran into the kitchen, toy race car in hand. “what!”

“be good today, ya hear me?” he pushed, face stern as he flipped a kitchen towel over his shoulder and sautéed vegetables in his frying pan. “please milo. don’t try to be funny and do somethin’ to scare y/n off.”

milo gave him a look.

“scare miss y/n off? dad you’re gonna scare her off not me!” he giggled. “silly.”

“yeah..” he grunted. “you’re probably right but i’m just sayin’. i’m thinking of the time grandma came over and ya put that fake rat in her purse to try and be funny.”

“ohhh yeeeeah!” he doubled over in little fits of laughter, holding his stomach as he did. “i did do that!”

“see what i mean?” katsuki grumbled, snatching the kitchen towel from his shoulder and throwing it down on the counter top, stepping back to peek in the oven. “you better not do that with y/n please.”

“i won’t!” he grinned. “not when she’s about to be my new mommy!”

katsuki choked as his spit went down the wrong pipe, bending over and coughing uncontrollably in his elbow before spinning around and looking at his son with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

“the hell you just say?”

“what!” milo tilted his head. “that y/n is gonna be my new mommy?”

his eyes grew even wider as he dropped the pan he was holding on the stove and leaned back, running his hands over his face.

“oh you little runt please don’t say that in front of her, alright?”

he pouted. “why not?”

“you’ll scare her off! worse than when you put that fake rat in grandmas purse!”

“boooo!” milo stuck his tongue out and crossed his little arms over his chest. “whatever.”

“oi!”

“what!”

katsuki’s doorbell chimed and milo booked it to the front door.

“missss preettyyyy!!—”

“milo get your ass back here!—”

katsuki swung the door open and swooped his son in his arms just as he was about to pounce on you in midair, you giggling and covering your mouth as you watched the scene unfold before you.

“i’m sorry—”

“hiii misss y/nnn!” milo greeted happily, dangling off of his dad as katsuki tried to stop him from wiggling out of his grip. “i’m so exciteeeddd!—”

“hi my love!” you gushed warmly, smile wide as you extended your arms and walked forward, taking milo in your arms and setting him on your hip. “how are you? you excited to hang out with meee?”

“yes! yes!” he vigorously nodded. “i wanna show you all my race cars!”

“oh i can’t wait to seeee!” you bounced him on your hip and he giggled, you turning your attention and smiling at katsuki.

“hi kats!”

“the little brat is hogging—”

milo blew a silly raspberry at him before wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face into your neck.

you laughed and ran a soothing hand over the little man’s back, katsuki rolling his eyes before stepping to the side and letting you in, shutting the door behind him and leading you over to the kitchen.

and jesus christ you looked beautiful, him noting that pink was what you mainly wore on the day to day as he eyed your small rosy cardigan, you walking through his home and looking around and oblivious to the way he was staring at you like a fucking creep.

katsuki bit the inside of his cheek as he watched your eyes scan your surroundings, stupidly nervous about what you’d think of his house and furniture and minuscule decorations, and annoyed with himself that he’d even give a shit about something like that, trying to occupy himself and ignore it as he looked in the oven and lifted lids of various pots and pans, checking over tonight’s dinner.

“i’m sorry i’m behind…” he grumbled and waved his hand around. “had to clean the house and shower milo since he decided to play in the fuckin’ mud this morning.”

“oh you don’t have to apologize for that kats!” you looked at him worriedly. “you don’t have to apologize for anything i totally understand…”

you hoisted milo further up your hip and grinned. “i’m just happy to spend time with the both of you.”

katsuki felt smoke puff out of his red ears as he nodded and scratched the back of his neck, turning slightly and lifting the lids from his pots and pans again.

“miss preettyyyy!” milo whined. “when can i show you my race cars?!”

katsuki scowled and you laughed.

“now honey! but how about we move some of your toys to the living room so i can spend time with both you and dad? how does that sound?”

“yayayay!!” milo cheered, bouncing on your hip as you smiled cutely and set him down, him running off down the hall and you quickly following after him.

milo talked you through his entire collection of race cars as you both sat down on the living room rug— telling you the model of each and every one, what they did, how fast they went, they places they’d gone, and which were his favorites as you excitedly talked to him about his cars and shifted conversation between him and katsuki, a task he was surprised you did so efficiently, but then quickly realized that that was literally your fucking job everyday dealing with little brats talking your ears off and you attending all of them at the same time.

and when it came around to dinner time, you helped katsuki set up even through his snapping and huffing that you absolutely shouldn’t, you giving him a silly little face as you assisted anyways and set up milo’s booster seat, picking him up and sitting him down before buckling him up while katsuki placed your dishes on the table—

and gourmet fucking dishes at that.

you were bewildered. absolutely bewildered as you gawked over the lasagna platter he set before you, it delicate and fancy looking as he had even draped sauce on your gray ceramic plate in gourmet intricate designs, knowing that katsuki had mentioned to you he was a chef over the several months you’d gotten to know him, but you didn’t know exactly to which extent that chef occupation stretched to.

“kats…” you murmured. “what do you do for a living.”

“i told you idiot.” he passed over a couple of napkins and you gratefully took them, taking one then and wiping down milo’s mouth as he messily ate his cut up pieces of lasagna. “i’m a cook.”

“yeah but what kind? where?”

“why?” he gruffed. “does it look like shit?”

“no!” you giggled. “absolutely not the opposite actually! this is probably the most beautiful lasagna i’ve ever seen in my life.”

“duh.” he responded, but sent you a small smile as he ate. “i’m an executive chef down at a restaurant in the city.”

your jaw dropped. “the city?! you’re so cool kats! oh my goodness!”

his face flushed.

“my dad says his boss is a piece of—”

“don’t say it!” katsuki snapped at his son, eyes wide as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing, not wanting to encourage the little man any further.

“milo i told ya not to cuss until you’re ten—”

“ten?!” you giggled loudly and let your hand fall, sticking your fork in your lasagna and eating. “as long as he cusses with you and not at you… i think it should be fine!”

katsuki stopped.

you get it. or you rile up his bad cussing habit. either or he might as well have found his fucking soulmate.

“miss pretty!” milo called.

“yes my love?”

“do you have a boyfriend?”

katsuki smacked a hand on his forehead and you snickered.

“i don’t!” you grinned. “why milo?”

“because i want you to be my new—”

“milo if ya shut your mouth right now i’ll buy you two new race cars tomorrow.”

his son gasped dramatically and pursed his lips shut, eyes big and excited as he tried to contain himself and do as told.

“his new what?” you tilted your head cutely, katsuki’s heart hammering against his rib cage as he stuffed his mouth with food.

he shrugged. “the fuck should i know?”

“but i wanna know!” you pouted, taking your final bites of your yummy dinner.

he swallowed.

“do you want dessert?”

you gasped. “oh my god yes! i do!”

“then i suggest you shut your mouth too.”

you laughed over the table, quickly nodding as you pursed your lips like milo and pinched your thumb and index finger together, running it across your mouth and twisting your wrist like a pretend lock before dropping your hand in your lap, giddy and excited over dessert.

katsuki playfully rolled his eyes and stood, collecting all of your plates and stacking them on top of each other before taking them over to the sink.

“dad!” milo called as he bounced in his seat, katsuki grunting in response.

“what’d you make for dessert!”

“mochi.”

“yaaaayyyyy!” he cheered happily. “can i eat it with y/n in the living room?”

katsuki’s brows furrowed. “the living room?”

“yeah!” milo exclaimed. “so i can keep showing her my race cars!”

he struggled for a moment before eventually nodding. “alright… but don’t make a mess i just cleaned—”

you and milo ended up building a fucking fort once he gave you the all clear, you both saying something about it adding to the ambiance as you used the couch cushions for makeshift walls and milo’s choo choo train sheets for the roof and tent, katsuki before he knew it his entire living room a fucking mess as the three of you sat amongst the scattered about pillows and blankets eating your bits of mochi, milo mainly inside the little tent you made for him as you and katsuki were too big to fit inside with him.

his living room was a mess… but he didn’t mind.

katsuki didn’t mind the mess.

your way of living was entirely different from his, as yours had everything to do with mess due to your full time job with kids— paint all over your hands and face, marker stains on your clothes and sticky glue residue and pieces of cut up construction paper somehow in your hair, all things katsuki despised for years and made sure his house never reflected any of that.

but in that moment, with his living room in complete disarray and the positioning of his couches utterly fucked up? the dishes still in the sink and the table still set?

katsuki didn’t fucking care.

because he had never seen his son so happy. he had never seen him so excited and hyper as you helped him set up and somehow tie fairy lights that katsuki had somewhere up in his attic for holiday seasons around the fort, you looking fucking gorgeous under the dim dark lightning as you read milo one of his favorite children’s books you got from his little shelf in his room— ‘the very hungry caterpillar,’ one of your favorites too as his son followed along with you and giggled whenever you’d make a silly joke only a five year old would find funny.

and katsuki felt warm… that’s all he ever felt when he was around you.

is this what it was like to be a family?

“oh my goodness i almost forgot!” you quickly sat up and handed milo the book, him taking it as you crawled over and reached for your bag. “i brought something for you honey!”

milo gasped and sat up. “really?! what?!”

you pulled out a ceramic cream colored globe with hollowed out stars, a small bulb inside as you scooched on your knees back over to a curious katsuki and milo.

“woah..” his son whispered. “what is it?”

you smiled and reached for the nearest outlet, plugging in the little globe and flicking a switch.

the darkened room illuminated itself then with the soft murmur of a lullaby playing, star shaped shadows slowly shifting around the entire living room as milo gasped and stood, frantically pointing at each moving shadow and gushing while his little mind was trying to process how cool and fascinating this was.

and all katsuki could do was stare at you.

stare at the way you sat back on your ankles and pointed with milo, counting how many stars you could see before it shifted and repeating that for fun, stare at the way both of your eyes glowed with wonder and curiosity, and stare at the way you smiled so gracefully and looked unreal now under the starry lights, his heart on overdrive at how gentle you were and how much you cared about his son.

about him.

and katsuki was sure then he was absolutely sick over you.

you all settled after a while of playing games and eating more mochi, especially milo, the little lullaby knocking him out as he snored next to you in his fort, you and katsuki laying down next to each other as you stared up at the shifting stars.

“i’m sorry i made such a mess in your living room..” you whispered bashfully. “i promise i’ll pick everything up before i leave.”

he shook his head. “don’t worry about it i can pick up. it’s fine.”

you smiled at him warmly before looking back up at the ceiling, feet planted on the blanketed flooring as your mindlessly moved your propped up knees side to side.

“was it hard raising milo on your own kats?” you asked softly, fingers wrung together neatly on your tummy.

“it was at first.” he mumbled. “but i got used to doin’ it on my own.”

you frowned, not particularly happy with the idea that katsuki had to raise a human being on his own without any help or guidance, wishing that he would’ve had someone there to help him every once in a while, or just be there for him.

“you did an exceptional job, okay?” you began. “you should know that... milo is such an honest kid… and he’s so precious too.”

katsuki’s eyes softened, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at you in fear of you noticing his stupid flustered face as he opted for keeping his gaze glued to the starry ceiling, your sugary peachy perfume not fucking helping as he decided to sit up instead.

“he is.” he grunted softly. “don’t know how his mom didn’t see that.”

you faltered and sat up with him.

“what do you mean?”

katsuki eyed you before looking down, hands flat behind him propping himself up as he thought.

“ah… milo happened because of some random hookup i had in college.” he mumbled. “didn’t love her or anythin’, i barely knew her but still told her i’d support her and the baby obviously.”

you nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“i was there through her entire pregnancy and when milo was born… but the minute she got discharged from the hospital and took him with her, i woke up at four in the mornin’ with a knock on my door and milo left abandoned on my doorstep.”

you gasped, hand hovering over your mouth.

“are you— are you serious?”

katsuki nodded.

“she wouldn’t answer my calls, my texts, nothing. i went to her house and found out she took the first flight she could to fuck knows where.” he shook his head bitterly. “but i didn’t give a shit about me i’ll raise him i don’t care. it was never about me.

he looked at you. “it was about milo. i didn’t want him to know that his ‘mom’ left him behind like that, and i didn’t want him to think it was his fault or anythin’… shits ridiculous.”

katsuki shifted his gaze back up to the ceiling. “still don’t know how she could ever do something like that.”

the sound of a hiccup make his eyes widen and snap back to you, your eyes filled with fat tears as your bottom lip wobbled, hands coming up to cup over your mouth and nose as you tried to keep it in.

“you’re crying?”

you nodded, squeaky slight sobs slipping past your throat as you strained to keep everything down.

“that’s so cruel.” you cried softly, embarrassingly drowning in your tears in front of him yet again. “you didn’t deserve that at all kats… milo didn’t deserve that you both should’ve had such a good mommy and— and a good support system—”

katsuki pushed himself up and wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, pulling you in and rubbing a hand up and down your back comfortingly.

“you cry over everything y/n.”

“s—” hic! “—sorry—”

he laid the side of his head on top of yours as you shook, somehow feeling guilty of what he told you just because of how much you were crying.

more than when he gave you those star shaped fruits.

“oi…”

katsuki pulled back and looked at you, reaching up and wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“don’t cry baby…”

baby?!

you funnily sobbed even more and shoved your face in his chest, him chuckling as he wrapped his arms back around you and gently swayed side to side.

“stop it idiot.” he mumbled. “it’s fine. it happened years ago n’ milo and i have always been alright on our own.”

…but he wanted you now.

now that he knew what it was like to be softly cared for by someone precious like you, to feel what it was like to be warm and fuzzy and sunshine and rainbows and candy all of the time… and katsuki wanted you so. bad.

“i know..” you hiccuped. “and i’m really glad but i just wish you had someone.”

you pulled away and quickly wiped your wet cheeks. “m’sorry i cried all over your shirt—”

“don’t give a fuck.”

you breathed out a laugh and dropped your hands in your lap, looking at your fingers as you sniffed.

you were always crying for him.

“y/n.”

“yeah?”

he looked to the side with a blush to his cheeks.

“thanks for comin’ today.”

you smiled brightly and nodded.

“of course kats! how could i not?” you looked behind you to a sleeping milo, reaching over and pulling his blanket a little further up his shoulders. “i want you to know that i wanna be there for you and milo…”

he shifted his gaze to you as you turned back around.

“whether— whether you wanna keep seeing me or not—” you gnawed nervously at the inside of your cheek. “which i hope you do! but— but if not that’s totally fine i just want to be there for you both…”

how were you so pure? so thoughtful?

“why the hell wouldn’t i wanna keep seeing you?” he huffed, grumbly and embarrassed as he pursed his lips. “i’d be stupid as fuck not to…”

you blushed, happy shiny eyes looking at him eagerly like he was everything and more, and he wasn’t used to people looking at him like that whatsoever as your gaze flickered down to his lips and back up.

and you were so pretty.

“y/n.”

“mhm?”

he slowly leaned closer.

“would you be mad if i made a move on you—”

“of course not—”

katsuki lunged and planted his rough lips on yours, you tasting like straight sugar and honey as he placed his big hands on the sides of you head and held you like a piece of delicate glass, kissing and sliding your tongues in each others mouths rather quickly and breathy as he moved one hand from your pretty face down to your waist to grip it.

you placed your hands on the blanketed floor and slowly crawled over to him during the makeout, him reaching and wrapping the rest of his built muscly arms around your waist and pulling you to straddle his lap as he ran his hands up and down your sides and back, wanting to feel you as much as he possibly could and squeeze you tight as he gulped your little self down, brows furrowed and lips red.

katsuki pulled away and ran his fiery wet mouth across your jaw and to the spot right below your ear on the side of your neck, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as he bit and sucked and still squeezed you, manhandling you in a way and eating you up.

your eyes fluttered open once you heard a slight rustle, your line of sight catching milo shifting a little in his sleep.

“k—kats—” you breathlessly whispered, pushing a little at his shoulders.

he grunted.

“milo—” you pointed. “he’s waking up—”

“the fucks that gotta do with us—”

“kats!”

he groaned and pulled his mouth from you, scowling over to see his son only shifted positions and was now directly facing the both of you, tiny eyes closed as he drooled and was probably dreaming about race cars and his dads shark shaped pb & j sandwiches.

“the little runt is fine—” he shoved his face back in and gnawed at your neck again as you gasped.

“nooo!” you whined and giggled softly. “now i’m scared he’s gonna wake up…”

he huffed and officially pulled away this time, red eyes dilated and half lidded as he looked over your pinky cheeks and shy face, the purple and blue mark he made on your neck making the right side of his lips curve up into a little prideful smirk, you too distracted to notice over the way he clutched and loosened up the hold on your waist repeatedly.

katsuki kept you on his lap and scooched himself down, laying on his back and head on the pillow as he nudged you to lay on him completely over his chest and body, you more than happy to do so as you settled your head on his pecs and got comfortable with his strong arms around you— feeling so safe and looked after.

and you hadn’t expected to sleep over… but you just didn’t wanna leave, and katsuki sure as hell didn’t want you to either as you softly and quietly talked over the small tinkling of the lullaby and milo’s soft breathing, shadowy stars still slowly shifting around you as you easily switched between various topics— ranging from serious to silly as you ran a loving hand over his chest and his on your back, the both of you subconsciously lulling each other to sleep until you were just as passed out on the floor as milo.

since then, katsuki didn’t wanna let you out of his sight.

as if he wasn’t already involved enough with milo’s school activities because of you, this man became a fucking member of the pta and volunteered himself for every single event so as long as you were there, helping you out especially with fundraisers and bake sales as his desserts always sold out quicker than anything else and made bank as he snickered and boasted at the other parents that weren’t selling as much, you giving him a silly glare that never failed to shut him right up as he wanted to be good for you and not upset you.

the front desk lady even went from hating him to loving him, katsuki grumbling and chucking her a bag of leftover fundraiser chocolate chip cookies on her desk as he passed by to drop off milo in the mornings, serving as a ticket way in and to get her to shut up now instead of yelling at him from down the hall.

and he continued to give you yummy star shaped fruits.

except now some days they looked like hearts or little flowers, and he always made his fruit assortments different so you wouldn’t get tired of them and added different dippings like caramel or chocolate hazelnut, you gushing and nearly bawling literally everyday whenever you’d open the container and milo giggling at you during lunch.

you also never went a day without stopping by or staying over at katsuki’s house since your first initial date, your days so much fun and filled with love as you ate lunch or dinner with the two of them, laughing at milo’s sporadic comments or katsuki’s barking and scolding while you either played with milo, helped katsuki clean up the house and him the kitchen or you the kitchen and vice versa, or simply cuddle on the couch with kisses shared amongst you and katsuki— the three of you with milo seated peacefully and comfortable in the middle while you watched a movie or lulled the little man to sleep.

and katsuki had never felt so complete as he started leaving messes behind without even realizing or stressing about it, and he didn’t know when the fuck it was that he turned so soft and sappy— the change a bit strange to those who knew him as he was just a teeny weeny less explosive and angry over small things, and more so when it came to you and his son.

“make sure you keep your little bucket hat on honey, okay? it’s hot today and i don’t want you to tire yourself out milo.”

the end of the year field trip for the kindergarteners this year was a voyage to the local wildlife sanctuary, a gorgeous exhibit that sat right next to the national science museum in your city, its main attraction being the 25 foot koi pond and butterfly wonderland that housed various butterfly species and their little habitats— the kids field trip assignment being to count how many they see throughout the day and pick one koi fish and butterfly to draw on their journals.

katsuki, of course, volunteered as a chaperone.

“single file line please my loves!” you called, hand by your mouth. “and don’t seperate from your friends okay?! everyone stay where i can see—”

“oi!” katsuki barked, snapping and pointing at a rogue kid who decided to break free from the line and run across the grass. “the fuck do you think you’re doing!—”

“kats!” you breathed out a shocked laugh. “you’re gonna get me fired if you talk to the kids like that—”

“shit! sorry— i’m sorry baby hold on—”

katsuki booked it across the grassy lawn and caught up with the running kid on the other side, the rest of your class giggling and cackling as katsuki swooped him up with one arm and dangled him upside down while he kicked and swung tiny punches to his abs, katsuki not even flinching.

“do that again and see what happens brat.” he spat, the little kid not having a single care in the world as he giggled with the rest of the class, all of them deviously planning to piss katsuki off as much as possible since his outbursts were just funny.

“okay okay—” you smiled apologetically at him before taking the dangling boy from his arm and setting him back down, fixing over his clothes and backpack before patting his head and standing upright.

“no more running alright?” you placed your hands on your hips. “don’t we wanna see some cute little fishies and butterflies?!”

“yeeeeaaaahhhh!!” the babies cheered excitedly, each of them immediately returning to their designated spots in two lines as you grabbed your line leaders tiny hands and started the walk down the grassy field to the sanctuary.

“lemme help ya with one line baby—” katsuki went to grab one of your line leaders hands until they burst into a crying fit.

“no! no! i wanna hold miss y/n’s hand!”

katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “what’s so bad about me hah?”

“you’re ugly! miss y/n is pretty!”

the rest of the kids ruptured, laughing as katsuki sent death glares to a literal child, about to spout something nasty until his eyes flickered to your pleading face, his muscles instantly relaxing as he casted his gaze to the ground with a grumble.

you giggled and gave him a sweet kiss to his cheek in gratitude, his face flushing as he eyed your deep blue overalls and pinky shirt and the way your sunglasses sat pretty in your hair on top of your head.

“what honey?” you tilted your head.

“none of your business.”

you snickered and nudged your shoulder with his, looking over at milo from somewhere in the line to make sure he was okay before walking up the front gates of the sanctuary.

the wildlife guide met you once you all were cleared and inside the greenhouse, your kids absolutely restless as they ‘listened’ to whatever the guide had to say and just wanting to break free and run around to look at all of the fishies and butterflies like you had promised, and you not even listening either as you drooled over the way katsuki’s muscles looked under his t-shirt.

“any questions sweetheart?”

“huh?” your eyes snapped to the guide, cheeks pink as you quickly shook your head. “oh! no not at all! thank you ma’am!”

“alrighty then! just please make sure to tell your students—”

suddenly your two perfect lines broke apart as the kids started running around and pointing at fluttering butterflies and screaming, the guide looking like she’d seen a ghost as the usual quiet and serene sanctuary was now the epitome of noise.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry—” you guiltily apologized. “my kids will settle down they’re just excited is all…”

the guide kindly waved you off before walking back to the main office, you turning and expecting to see katsuki standing next to you, but faltering once you saw he was on the other side and pulling one of your kids down that had climbed up the gates of one of the sanctuaries closed off exhibits.

“oh god..” you mumbled, about to make your way over until you spotted milo in a corner alone, staring at one of the koi ponds.

“milo?” you called softly, walking up to him.

your heart sank once he turned and you saw his little tear filled eyes and wobbling lip.

“oh no!” you gasped, crouching down and taking his tiny hands in yours. “what’s wrong my love? are you okay? is it too hot?”

you pushed some of his spiky blonde bangs back from his sweaty forehead as he shook his head.

“i can’t draw!” he sniffled. “and the koi fishies keep moving…”

your shoulders relaxed in relief.

“that’s okay!” you took his journal and pencil, wiping his wet cheeks as you smiled sweetly. “as long as we’re patient with the fishies, they’ll swim back and you can draw them again!”

you opened his journal and flipped to a new blank page, the both of you waiting quietly until a big chubby koi fish swam by.

“there!” milo whispered and pointed, and you quickly drew what you could, just making out the shape of the body before it disappeared again.

“and now we wait!” you grinned up at him. “the fishy will come back around and you’ll be able to draw it again.”

“kayyy!!”

“and you can draw milo. i’ve seen your artwork in class, remember? you always get a gold star!”

he giggled. “i do miss pretty!”

you ran a soothing hand over his back before passing his journal back.

“now you try honey—”

“i love you.”

you froze and looked up, katsuki standing there with a sincere and vulnerable look in his eye.

you stood from your crouched position and looked at him wide eyed.

“i’m not— i’m not good at this kinda shit at all and i always say somethin’ dumb but i do.”

“kats—”

“and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it but i tried to make it obvious with my stupid shaped fruits n’ shit… and i always thought you kinda just knew…”

milo was too busy focusing on catching glimpses of the koi fish to draw with his tongue peeking out to even realize what was going on next to him.

“you’re so patient baby. the way you are with me… the way you are with my kid. i need that in my life and i can’t live without it at this point…” he spoke genuinely. “your fuckin’ fault.”

you giggled and covered your face with your hands, face hot to the touch and bashful at everything he was telling you.

“come here.”

you listened and walked forward, dropping your arms as you wrapped them around his abdomen and his around your head, squishing you in his big chest as he propped his chin up.

“do you love me too or what.” he frowned. “cause if not this is shitty and embarrassing—”

“no i do!” you giggled, pulling away and giving him a cheeky smile. “i do kats you know that… i love you. so much.”

he smiled and pecked your lips. “good, miss pretty.”

katsuki had heard the entire conversation you had with his son, your words seeping with such tenderness and care, and he almost passed the fuck out when he thought about how much of a blessing you were, something he’d be a fool not to snatch up and take as he nearly fucking proposed to you in the middle of the sanctuary like an idiot, not knowing at all how a person that pissed people off for a living was loved by a woman who was the definition of pure.

because how the fuck did an angry dunce like him, get lucky with an angel like you?

“oh my god that dumbass kid is climbin’ the fence again— oi!”

katsuki quickly kissed your cheek before flying to the other side of the sanctuary, you doubling over in laughter as you watched him fight and tug and pull, your student not budging at all whatsoever and the rest of the kids laughing at how red katsuki was getting in the face.

“miss pretty!” milo tugged at your overalls, and you looked down to see him holding up his open journal, a cute wobbly sketch of a koi fish on the page as he smiled big. “i drew it! do you like it?!”

“wow milo!” you gushed, crouching down to his level and taking the journal, examining his artwork. “this is beautiful my love! see? i knew you could do it!”

“thank youuu!” he responded sweetly, his little cheeks blushing as he looked at you like he had another thing he wanted to say.

you tilted your head. “do you wanna tell me something else?”

“yeaaahhh.” he dragged. “please love my dad… i know he’s mean but— but he doesn’t mean it!”

your eyes softened as milo looked down at his shoes.

“and love me too… because i want you to be my new mommy…”

you quickly blinked back tears as to not alarm milo, surprisingly successful at preventing them from slipping down your face.

“i do love your dad honey… and you. the both of you i love so so much.”

he beamed. “really?!”

you nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “and i thought i was already your mommy milo!”

the little man gasped and flung his arms around your neck.

“YAAAYYY!” he yelled. “miss pretty is my mommy! i have a mommy now!”

ever since you came into katsuki’s life, his way of living materialized into something completely different.

because now instead of his house being plain and boring and organized from top to bottom without a single thing out of place— it was warm now… happy. and never went a day without smelling like cookies and vanilla as you and katsuki baked with milo any chance you could, set up more pillow forts and tents with starry ceilings, and slept with milo in his room as he snored content in his little bed, you sprawled directly on top of katsuki like he always had you as you both every day intended to leave after putting his son to rest, but ending up falling asleep on the floor each time.

the three of you were a little family.

and katsuki didn’t know why he hated messes so much in the first place.

because mess signified that something had been there, something sunny and tender, something that signified family as you peppered kisses over both your boys’ faces everyday and katsuki drowning you in his rough ones— your man squeezing you so tight all of the time and anywhere, as milo wasn’t just his son now but yours too as you took him to the park or to the aquarium on your days off, the three of you gently living as both of milo’s small hands were occupied now instead of just one.

katsuki’s life looked like it had been generously cherished and lived in for a change.

and katsuki bakugo loved messes.

so as long as they were from you.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @umemiaa @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @blu3-l0v3r @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire @dee-writes-anime @megumisluciouslashes @peachyaeger @yourstru1y4ever

PRETTY GIRL POSTED HAHAH

𐔌 ✧.* ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ || He wouldn’t allow yourself to be troubled with self-doubt, after all you're perfect in his eyes. 

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, no smut, small dab of angst but short lived, oneshot, aged up, words of affirmation, insecure reader, protective bkg, he’s just a lil guy, 905 word count

The phone in his hand is immediately forgotten at her question.

His head snaps up to look at her, brows furrowed with an evident frown, as if she just threatened his entire existence with mere words.

The blonde immediately stands up, slowly approaching the girl – who's busy staring at herself in the mirror – already growing more irritated by every step he takes.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't fucking hear that."

Her eyes meet his in the reflection, a shiver running down her spine at the sheer intensity of his gaze, those red orbs piercing into her own.

The beating of her heart only grows louder as his fingers graze her bare back – swatting her hands away which fumbled with the strings of the corset – taking over as he tied it himself with ease.

Mumbling a stern 'i got it' to her as he focused on the task at hand.

The burning sensation on her cheeks doesn't help the swirling thoughts in her head, she's a bundle of nerves fueled by the unpleasant feeling of insecurity.

It's not often she dressed up like this – the hair, makeup and dress was all foreign on this body – it was like she was playing dress up, only the clothes scream at her to take it off.

Self-doubt and anxiety has always followed her like a shadow, sometimes too dark to ignore or too light to know when it'll eventually return.

She thought she was getting better but...

"I thought I told you to stop saying that shit."

His small grumble breaks her out of the trance – reminding herself that she's not alone with her thoughts, not anymore – she can feel the way he ties a bow with the strings when finished.

Resting his hands on her waist instead of moving away, leaning against her so she can feel the warmth of his chest on her back, keeping her grounded.

The determination in his eyes has her staying silent.

"Never call yourself ugly ever again, got it? I don't care if you're joking, it pisses me off."

Though to others it may seem harsh, only those closest to him can understand the care and purpose behind every word he speaks.

The responsibility he puts upon himself to protect his lover – from her own troublesome mind – only heightens the amount of love she has for him.

Her fingers fidget with the silk material clinging to her figure.

"I just... I never wore something so showy.."

Katsuki Bakugo is very attentive.

Hence he notices every directed glance to her torso, every nervous squirm, every pause in between her words.

The overall uncertainty behind those eyes and demeanor.

And it only heightens his increasing annoyance – but not directed to her, never to her – aiming it towards himself instead.

The frustration of not noticing her mood shift sooner – the failure of taking care of what needed to be treasured – has him spinning her around to face him.

Her eyes slightly widen at his actions, though meets his gaze nonetheless.

"Listen up cause I'm only gonna say this once okay idiot?"

His hands stray away from her waist, only to cup her face, cradling it with a surprising amount of gentleness.

She hesitantly nods.

"..'m sorry for not noticing earlier, I should've realized it sooner."

"eh- wait katsuki that's not your fault-"

Her breath hitches as he suddenly leans down, shutting her up with his lips – the kiss is short lived but filled with love, devotion and tenderness – only making her brain short circuit when he pulls back.

The look on his face was a mix of confidence and unwavering conviction.

"I didn't say anything before because well... tch, I know I'm not the best with words but..."

He clears his throat, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed as he takes a glance at her – all dolled up and flustered – it only causes him to grow shy at the sight.

Unsure of what to say next without looking like a fool, he sighs and quickly takes her hand, placing it on his chest as he roughly whispers.

The surprise on her face is evident.

"....can't you feel that? what you do to me when you look like that?"

She can feel the intense rhythm of his heartbeat underneath her finger tips – strong and intense, too intense – her own pulse beginning to mimic his at the realization.

If she wasn't flustered enough, he practically turned her into mush.

"I-I didn't know..."

He rolls his eyes trying to regain some of his composure.

"Yeah well, now you know. So stop doubting your appearance... because you're fucking beautiful okay?"

She goes to respond but he squeezes her cheeks together, making her whine at the feeling, the previous gloomy atmosphere now replaced with warmth.

He subtly smiles at his success.

Although her previous thoughts won't vanish into thin air so soon, she does feel at ease knowing one thing : he truly does love her.

That's all the reassurance she needed to walk out the door, hand in hand – much to his grumbling – towards their special outing for the rest of the night.

Let's just say the paparazzi had a questionable time trying to snap pictures of the famous pro hero couple, with Katsuki suddenly acting bodyguard to every photographer standing a little too close to his girlfriend.

A grumpy figure clinging to her in every pic.

He's suddenly regretting his decision to attend this event with such a stunning date.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| hi hiiii i think this might be one of the fastest fics i wrote but i actually enjoyed writing it so much? anyways im scheduling this to post on monday night, i hope it works, i never used this feature before - fingers crossed 🤞🏼 i need to start writing for more characters other then bkg but it's so hard -_- a dabi fic is coming out next so stay tuned! tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 @qyuin ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

No glue, no borax. Just please

𐔌 ✧.* ꜱɪᴘ ꜱɪᴘ ꜱɪᴘ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ || Getting a call to pick up your drunk boyfriend led to many hugs, kisses and even a secret revealed.

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, no smut or angst, oneshot, drunk and clingy bkg, dating au, aged up, physical touch galore, jealous bkg, kirishima mentioned, highschool sweethearts, he’s just a lil guy, 1.1k word count

The intense smell of alcohol and fried japanese cuisine infiltrates her nostrils – increasing the worry she already felt prior to her arrival – nonetheless she smiles, saying her quick hello's to those still present.

"Hey bakubro, look alive! Y/N is here!"

Her gaze softens as she approaches the duo, sighing with relief as she sees the blonde seated down with a noticeable aloof expression – though short lived – given that his head perks up at the mention of her name.

"....y/n? where?"

The unusual quiet tone makes her heart race, the way he lazily scans the area – too drunk to notice she's standing only a few steps away – only causes a giggle to escape her.

He frowns at Kirishima, sending a weak glare his way.

"don't lie to me, shitty hair..."

The red head could only sheepishly smile at him – taking a note that his friend is too far gone – standing up and patting y/n's shoulder as he walks by, going over to make sure the others are okay to get home.

But not before adding an encouraging remark, shining a toothy grin towards her as he steps aside.

"He's all yours y/n! good luck!"

She nods at him and looks back at the blonde – who's resting his head on the table, obeying the feeling of exhaustion – having to hold the urge to take a photo of the adorable scene.

With deliberate quiet steps, she leans against the table, soothingly rubbing his back.

"Katsuki?"

He tenses and immediately picks his head up – lifting his hand to shove hers away – but pauses as he seems to recognize her, squinting hard, clearly struggling.

She smiles and leans closer for him, knowing he must've drank a lot for the guy to be so out of it.

"Hi 'suki, it's y/n, c'mon i'm here to bring you back home."

At her reassurance, his earlier defensive stance seemed to relax – his eyes practically oozing with infatuation – a lopsided smile slowly appearing on his face.

An unfamiliar yet welcoming sight. 

His arms reach out to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer with longing and adoration – earning a surprised gasp from her – his gaze roaming across her facial features, as if trying to wrap his head around her beauty.

"you're here.."

The joy in his voice is evident – so unlike the grumpy blonde that she knows and loves – she doesn't particularly mind this version of him though.

It's cute.

"Kirishima called and said you drank a little too much, so I came to your rescue."

He frowns immediately – earning a curious look from her and raised brows – halting in her movements when he buries his face against her stomach.

She softly hums as her fingers reach down to gently play with the spiky locks, the soft texture felt beneath her fingertips as she scratches his scalp.

"What's wrong?"

The grip around her waist only tightens as he grumbles.

"don't talk about him..."

Her eyes crinkle with amusement, softly giggling at the ticklish sensation – the combination of his hair and the jealous words spoken against her torso, made her prone to laughter – he was an open book whenever given a few drinks in his system.

She'll keep that in mind for next time.

"Don't be so jealous Katsuki, I'm dating you, remember?"

He huffs and picks his head up, looking straight at her with determination.

"Just focus on me."

She rolls her eyes playfully, resting her arms around his neck as he continues clinging to her.

"Whatever you say-"

A small whine escapes the girl as his hands position her to sit on his lap, taking the opportunity to cradle her face and squish her cheeks.

The yearning in his eyes makes her chest tighten involuntarily, feeling a bit shy at his display of such fondness.

"...'m in love with you... you know?"

Of course she knew he loved her.

But the way he's so straight forward when he usually isn't as vocal with his affection is just... different.

It made her feel like a blushing school girl all over again.

"yes i know kats, i love you too."

Apparently the smile and words weren't enough for him, cause he didn't let go of her face, drunkenly holding it with tenderness.

Honestly, no one wouldn't believe her if she told this story many years from now.

The way he adoringly smiles, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead – which turned into multiple kisses across her face – simply left her feeling breathless.

As if she, herself, had been infected by his intoxication.

"So pretty..."

Y/N gently removes his hands – attempting to regain some of her composure, after he made her all flustered – and opens her palm in his direction with a laugh.

“Thank you ‘suki, but can I get your car keys? I gotta drive you home 'mkay?"

"oh.... 'kay..."

His left hand fumbles around his pocket – the other having a steady place around her back to keep her up – the sounds of metal clinging together echoing from the action.

She takes the set of keys, noticing the framed – and now signed – all might card dangling from the set, a smile resurfacing on her face.

But her brows furrow when she sees another attachment on the keys.

A small photo keychain of them, a picture from their yearbook when they were in UA, both smiling at each other, not suspecting anyone snapped a pic.

She remembered the shock on both of their faces when they opened the collage of memories, the photo printed out in the array of funny class photos.

The blonde must've cut it out and framed it.

Her heart jumps at the realization, a warm feeling bubbling within her chest – she never took katsuki to wear an accessory like this – maybe she'll buy him a charm to add to the assortment of trinkets.

"...'m sleepy"

Y/N smiles – feeling extra giddy now, as she stands up from his lap – helping him to place his arm around her shoulder, walking out of the restaurant in unison.

As she buckles his seatbelt on, she couldn't help but to mention her discovery.

"Hey katsuki... I didn't know you had that photo of us on your keychain."

His red eyes are half lidded with drowsiness, but it doesn't stop him from speaking in a mumble before succumbing to sleep.

"...that photo is special."

She yearns for him to elaborate but refrains from waking him up, instead putting the car in drive towards his apartment, she'll just ask him tomorrow.

What she didn't know at the time, is the significance of the photo.

Back then, he was irritated at whoever snapped that shot, but Katsuki could only be grateful now.

It was taken on the exact day he realized he fell in love with her – now a personal time capsule he could look back on whenever he wanted to reminisce – the reminder of that, making him sleep for the rest of the car ride home with a smile. 

And yes, she did snap a pic of him snoring. 

Maybe it’ll be on her keychain.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| I have this problem where - whenever I finish writing a fic, I immediately post it after - when I SHOULD wait until the late afternoon/night bc I think u guys are more active then? I think? I don’t have a posting schedule sooooo… please answer the poll so I can know when it’s better to post for u guys 🫶🏼

tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 @qyuin ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

Just a little art study I did.

expecting you // shouto todoroki

a/n: based on a thought i had a couple weeks ago about shouto falling for one of touya's nurses <3 smau at the end bc i cannot resist hehe -> literally geeeekingggggg

shouto is quick to catch onto patterns as well as fall into them. it's one of those things that had been ingrained in him from a young age that he can't seem to shake off now as an adult.

"observe, figure them out, know their next move. c'mon shouto. get up."

he has the bus times memorized and recognizes the faces of the people waiting with him. he remembers and greets everyone working the midday shift at his favorite soba shop. he's apart of their routine as much as they are to him, so of course they'll already have his usual order ready as soon as he comes in. they always pack extra, but he knows better than to argue, so instead, he lets them send him off with a "see you next week" and a reminder to "make sure touya eats it all so he can get big and strong."

it's always a fifteen minute walk from the soba shop to the rehab facility, and he doesn't bother checking in at the front anymore. he nods a hello to the security guard and goes straight to touya's room.

this has been his weekly routine for the past five years.

shouto's eyes zero in on the glossy checkerboard pattern of the facility's floors.

white. blue. white. blue.

he knows it takes him about fifteen of each to get to touya's room at the end of the hall, but he counts in his head every time.

from outside of his door, he hears your exaggerated groan that if the door was open, he was sure it would've echoed down the hallway.

"no, you don't get it," you huff, "it's the favoritism. that's why sensei won't write me a recommendation letter."

"you're probably right. you are kinda annoying," touya responds.

it takes shouto a long time, a year at least, to hear anything but venom in his brother's voice. right now, he didn't have to see touya to know that he had a smirk on his face with that delivery.

you just had that effect on people.

as if on cue, your voice rang "shouto should be here by now," right as he clicks the door open.

"and there he is," you quip, "another minute and i would've called the cops."

"can't i ever be a little unpredictable?" shouto scoffs with a slight smile.

such a hypocrite.

he expected that eye roll. he knew you would shrug and cross your arms across your chest. it's comforting in a way, to know someone so intimately just from observation and fleeting conversations, because even though you're teasing him about his strict routine, you don't even realize how predictable you are.

while shouto sets the takeout on the counter to unpack its contents, you grab the arms of the chair and push yourself up onto your feet.

"alright, you guys have a good lunch. i'll stop by and say bye before i leave for the-"

touya groans and cuts you off, "you do this shit every week, stupid, sit down and eat with us."

"no, because if i sit here and eat with you guys, you're going to talk and talk and talk and not get any rest before group therapy."

touya deadpans.

"does it looks like i need a fucking nap before spending an hour listening to some losers vent about their lives?"

"yes?" you cock an eyebrow "aren't you pushing thirty? the elderly need their sleep don't they?"

"says the twenty something with no social life." touya bites back.

a dramatic gasp leaves your mouth.

"shou, listen to what your brother is saying to me." you jokingly whine.

"don't get me involved," he shoots you a playful side glance, "you're having lunch with us. for the sake of your social life."

"shut up." you mutter, the corners of your mouth quirking into a shy smile. he waits until you sit back down in your seat before holding out a bowl of soba for you to take.

"i have to argue with you about it, but when he offers, you don't say shit?" touya complains with a mouthful of soba.

"duh? why would i listen to your rude ass when shou's so sweet?"

shouto bites back a smile and takes a seat at the end of touya's bed, scooping a mouth full of noodles in his mouth, watching you do the same.

"y/n, did you even pack a lunch for yourself today?" shouto starts after finishing his bite, "or do you love having us beg for you to stay and eat?"

you're quiet for a moment, sucking in your cheek to suppress the sheepish grin and defeated chuckle that would eventually break through.

your eyes trail up from your bowl of soba to lock shouto's, hoping that the heat crawling up your neck hasn't blossomed across your cheeks.

he doesn't look away, but instead cocks an eyebrow with a sly smile. he already knows the answer.

-

shouto leaned against the doorframe waiting for you to complete the last of touya's update forms before clocking out for the day.

"someone's gonna take over for me and take you to therapy in a few, okay?" you say, scribbling in the last few notes.

"the cute one?" touya asks.

"mmmmm no, i don't think she's working today."

touya groans, "fuck my life."

"down bad." you announce, receiving an unsavory gesture from touya's prosthetic hand as you pretend to make a note of it on the clipboard.

you tuck the board under your arm, collecting the various papers and notebooks sprawled out on the counter before shoving them into your school bag.

"see you in a couple days. cross your fingers for this recommendation letter." you take one last scan around the room.

"offer still on the table if you want me to forge one for ya."

"how generous. i'll let you know when i get desperate." you laugh.

shouto holds the door open with his back, raising a hand to say his goodbyes.

"see you next week, touya. maybe this weekend with natsuo and the kids."

"see ya. walk y/n to their car alright? your daddy didn't raise an animal."

shouto rolls his eyes with a half-hearted chuckle, looking back one last time to nod a goodbye before the door closes behind you two.

"the cute one is in fact working today." you say with a proud smile once you've skipped further away from the room.

“oh?” shouto quickens his step to catch up beside you, “why lie then?”

“just setting him up to feel a lot of excitement later,” you shrug. “i think being a long-term patient and living the same days and routine over and over again can feel kinda gray and muddy, so it’s nice to be surprised every now and then don’t you think?”

rei’s face flashes in shouto’s mind for a moment and he thinks back on the first time he visited her in that old living facility. unlike her during that time, touya still has a gleam in his eyes- a faint spark despite all of these years.

“y/n.” shouto says after a moment of silence, pausing in the middle of the hallway.

“hm?”

you stop and turn back to see him bowed at a proper 90 degree angle with his hands flush against his sides.

your eyes widen, “shou? what are you-”

“thank you for taking care of my brother, thank you for being a friend to him...” he trails, “...and to me.”

shouto didn’t know when would be an appropriate time to straighten up. he stared down at the white and blue tiles at his feet as he silently prayed for the heat prickling the tip of his ears to dissipate before coming face to face with you again.

“you’re being silly,” you break the tension with a breathy chuckle.

shouto snaps back up, the apple of his cheeks flushed from the blood pooling to his face.

“i’m not. i need you to know that i’m grateful.”

“you don’t have to thank me, shou,” you continue your walk back to the nurse’s station with shouto following close behind “i hardly do anything- i’m not even a nurse, you know? not yet at least. i think it’s funny that i got hired on because of your stubborn ass brother, but even if i wasn’t tied to a payroll, i’d still be here. you guys are my friends too.”

you keep your pace quick- always one step in front of him with your head hung low. there wasn’t much you could do to mask your blush. your face was burning hot, and this hallway was only so long.

“well, if you’re not going to accept my thanks, then let me treat you to lunch.” he leans against the counter as you round the corner behind the desk.

“you treat me to lunch every week,” you laugh.

“it would just be you and me.”

your fingers pause over the keyboard as you’re typing in your employee code. you look up from the screen and meet his eyes with your smile faltered and mouth slightly gaped open. 

“just you and me?” you repeat.

he nonchalantly nodded his head as his hands were sweating through the front pockets of his pants. 

shouto had gone out one on one with classmates and friends before, and he was sure that an outing with you would be like any other dinner, but there was a twinge of anxiety sitting in his chest as he waited for your answer.

i think something’s wrong.

well thank god i’m surrounded by nurses…and you.

“i mean, if he wants, we can put in a day pass request for touya and invite the other siblings. i just thought…” shouto sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, not quite sure what it was that he thought. “...that we…i…”

a year ago when you were just a student looking for volunteer hours, touya gave you an in-depth run down of each family member “just for when you have the misfortune of meeting them. don’t fall in love, alright? mr. perfect has that effect on people.”

it wasn't until now, with shouto's flushed cheeks, chewed bottom lip, and avoidant eyes that you understood what his brother had meant.

you’ve never seen the todoroki’s golden child, as touya liked to describe him, stumble over his own words before. you watch him pause for a moment to search for the right words, panic settling in behind his gaze as his eyes flicker between his twitching fingers tapping against the counter and your own.

“you and me, then.” you confirm, breaking the silence as the corners of your mouth lift into a shy smile.

“yeah?” he says with a sigh of relief.

you reach over, pulling a pen out from its holder and lean over the computer. you click the pen and grab shouto’s hand before scribbling your number in the soft flesh of his palm.

xx - xxxx - xxxx -> y/n :P

“also, my classmate’s picking me up today for a study session, but to keep touya’s word, i’ll make you walk me to my car next week,” you wave shouto off with a wide grin as you begin to walk backwards towards the exit, “text me, okay?”

shouto glances down at the numbers adorning his palm, still feeling the point of the pen digging into his skin. he looks back up at you. his mouth is slightly gaped open, but nothing comes out. with the same palm, he holds it up, waving you goodbye until the automatic doors close behind you.

you turn around one last time to see shouto walking off in the opposite direction towards the other exit with his palm held out in front of him and his phone in the other, making sure to have your number saved before the ink smudges away.

“so predictable.”

-

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0 @kaldurahms-lover @commonmisery @moonstonejpg @twoplayergaymers @simp-plague @xvilluis @haruhi269 @starliightfiend

shouto tag: @bitchyfestivalbouquet

the trust that katsuki has in you is absolutely hit or miss, but most times he trusts you blindly. and he doesn’t really show it in the most obvious ways. one way in which he shows it, though, is when he leaves things up to you when he’s unable to fight.

even when the fight is him sitting frustrated in the drivers seat of his porsche, the manual gear stick mockingly standing before his injured arm. it’s not everyday that katsuki gets badly hurt, and it’s not everyday that he can’t drive home from the pain.

his right foot is on the accelerator, left on the clutch. his right hand hovers over the gear stick, when katsuki’s arm jolts from the pain. he hisses, and before he can even let out a curse, your left hand moves the stick down.

you just shifted gears for him.

“if you won’t let me drive, then at least let me help you, katsuki.”

his eyes widen, a small smirk on his face. his foot presses the accelerator even harder, with a single command coming from his mouth.

“third.”

without even looking, you’re certain his foot is on the clutch yet again, and your hand moves the gear stick up. it’s not long before he speaks up again.

“fourth.”

the stick goes down, and katsuki’s smirk grows even bigger. not once do you hesitate, and his crimson car runs smoother than it ever does. it’s unlikely that katsuki lets down his pride and allows you to cover for him, so it’s moments like these that you treasure. the sound of the car speeding up snaps you out of your trance. there’s a slight stop, but it’s not from hesitation.

fifth. katsuki doesn’t even have to mention it.

the gear stick moves up, right, and up again. katsuki can only chuckle as you smile, his hand resting with yours on the stick.

“i hate that ya know me so well.”

“well i hate the fact that you’re not letting me drive, kats.”

he laughs, “no way in hell you’re drivin’ my car.”

BABY

a sour taste and a cruel heart

m.list

a\n so much angst. but imagine any of your favs when reading!

You were here, stuck at this shitty fucking party, supposed to dance the pain away—or so Ochako had said. And yet, there he was, standing six feet away from you, bathed in the flickering glow of those cheap strobe lights Denki had scored last minute from some run-down party store. Blue and purple hues wrapped around him, casting him as something ethereal. Almost angelic.

But he’s anything but that.

You know it from the festering, rotting feeling that creeps in every time someone so much as mentions his name. That man is no saint. He had ripped your heart out with bare hands and sharp teeth, peeled the skin from your bones, and left your flesh to rot.

You still remember how he ended it—how he left you with nothing but a cardboard box stuffed with the remnants of your last three years together. Left it by your door like garbage, not even man enough to look you in the eyes when he tossed you away.

That cruel smirk, the one that used to send you to your knees, now only sends you clutching at your chest, struggling to breathe. And now, here he is. Lost in the crowd but staring at you.

You had sworn to him that you two could make it, that you'd be the exception. But he never listened—when did he ever? Instead, he grew quieter. Stopped holding your gaze. Dropped your hand in crowds. For fuck’s sake, he stopped kissing you. Your lips still feel bare.

And a few weeks later, it was over.

You remember his face—so vacant, so cold, like a stranger trying to morph himself into the man you once loved. You had wished, prayed, that it was some sick prank. That it was all just a nightmare, and you'd wake up in his arms, the morning sun warming his skin, his body safe and solid beside you.

But instead, you woke up alone. Cold. With a raging headache and eyes too swollen to open properly.

That same morning, you were paired with him for a training session. He had loomed over you the way he always used to—except this time, he wasn’t yours. Just an opponent. A stranger planning to land a hit. You dodged, gasping for breath, and then—

You broke.

Sobbing, choking on your own breath, tears streaming down your face as you clung to his chest—hitting him, holding him, like you wanted to tear him apart but still needed him to put you back together. And in front of everyone, he just… held you.

He never spoke to you again after that.

And now, here he is, at this shitty graduation party, celebrating the same thing he threw you away for. And here you are, swirling the sour liquid in your cup, knocking it back too fast, desperate for something—anything—to dull the ache clawing at your ribs.

And here he is, still staring.

His eyes narrow slightly, like he sees right through you. Like he knows you still can’t stand the taste of alcohol. But he won’t be there to hold your hair back when you’re puking your guts out.

Not anymore.

can be any of your favs from mha <3

imagine being there during the battle with shigaraki, your face contorting in horror as you watch katsuki bakugou get thrown across the arena like a ragdoll.

imagine rushing to his side, your own heart stilling in your chest as you desperately press your palm over his— praying to whatever god that was out there that this wasn’t happening.

imagine the lump in your throat, choking down bile, as you can’t find that familiar beat thrumming underneath your fingertips. one that you had become so accustomed to.

imagine the aftermath of the war.

laying in bed with katsuki, a lingering thought stuck in the back of your mind, something dark and twisted taunting you.

you look over your shoulder, watching his still body, chest rising and falling with life. he was here with you, alive and breathing— and yet…

rolling over, you press your palm to his chest— resting over his heart and tucking yourself into his side. the thrumming beat underneath your palm reminding you of the phantom feeling of the stillness you had felt.

“the hell are you doing?” he grumbled, voice groggy with sleep, eyes barely peeking open to reveal that striking vermillion colour.

“nothing.” you replied quietly, swallowing thickly. he probably didn’t believe you. probably heard the shakiness in your voice and the way your hand trembled against his skin.

if he did, he didn’t say anything. instead katsuki pulled you closer, cradling the back of your head with a big hand and grumbled one last time. “go back to sleep, idiot.”

he’d let you have this. because maybe he needed it too.

Number One Girl In Your Eyes

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: You’ve liked Katsuki since you first met him, and yet he doesn’t even seem to notice you, even though it’s obvious how much that hurts you.

A/n; Reader high-key acts like me so if you’re an overthinking hopeless romantic I gotchu <3

Warnings: angst with a sweet ending

1.4k word count

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You'd been in his atmosphere for ages. Hours spent in classrooms, training, or just talking in the dorms, you'd always been there. And yet it seemed like he never looked your way, even though it also seemed you were always looking his.

What a foolish thing, love. Riveting and torturous, always getting in the way of your thoughts, seeping through the cracks in your resolve like water poured down a sink, draining every other emotion until the only thing flooding your brain was him.

Or maybe this was something else. Maybe this was some other form of longing, jealousy, or maybe even loathing. Maybe the real reason that narrow gaze made you flush was because you hated the man, and no one would blame you for it. He was stubborn and mean and abrasive and cruel, a personality to match the quirk. And yet you were drawn in nonetheless.

Love or loathing, it didn't matter. He didn't care anyways. He never noticed your stares, he didn't care for your compliments when you'd give them on just how cool you thought his quirk was, and he certainly didn't notice you sitting there right next to him, silently pleading that he just look at you.

The common room was filled with chatter and laughing, your friends on the couch to your left. Mina had made sure that you'd end up with the seat next to Katsuki, smiling at you as she made her millionth attempt to play matchmaker. But today you were too tired for the antics, so you just sat quietly drinking some water, never letting your eyes linger too long on the boy next to you.

It was a weekend, and yet you and the rest of class 1-A had trained for hours, working yourselves to the bone. Your arms and legs felt so numb that it was one of the only things you could think about. One of, not the, because you were also thinking about the way Katsuki had so casually slung his arm over the back of the couch behind you while talking with Kirishima.

Mina giggled at you when you met her eyes, she'd noticed it almost as quick as you did, but she pretended otherwise when Katsuki glanced at her, wondering just what was so funny. You kept you gaze down, trying to block off your thoughts, block off Mina's stifled laughs, block off Katsuki fucking Bakugo as those narrow eyes landed on you too.

But that voice was something that you couldn't block off.

"You did good today" he said bluntly, and you blinked up at him, your resolve broken under his long awaited attention. And yet, despite finally getting him to even breathe your way, you still couldn't trust it. Don't get your hopes up, not yet. "…me?" You asked, your voice almost as uneasy as you actually were.

He scoffed. "Yeah you, idiot. Who else?" He retorted, his eyes crinkling slightly as he furrowed his brow "don't be nervous around me, it's annoying." He added, and with that, he turned his gaze away once more. You were speechless, looking up at him like a lost puppy.

Kirishima looked between you, Katsuki, and then Mina, and surprisingly caught on pretty quickly, speaking up. "Hey, Bakugo, be a little nicer to her" he butted in, giving you a sort of reassuring look. But between him, and Mina, and Katsuki coming up with some retort, you just felt… awful.

Why did your friends have to go through these hoops for you? Why couldn't you do it yourself? No, you'd already tried a million times, all failing miserably, just to get the guy you'd liked since you started at UA to look at you. You'd done enough. Why couldn't he see that? Why couldn’t he just…see you?

Before Katsuki could snap out a response to Kirishima, or even say anything else to you, you'd gotten up from the couch, and began walking towards the door. You didn’t want to deal with it anymore. Maybe it was loathing, because you now wanted nothing more than to ignore your crush as much as he ignored you.

Mina called you back, Kirishima scolded Katsuki, and everyone else stood around confused about the scene as you walked towards the elevator. You didn’t bother looking back as you hit the button up. The one time he’d talked to you in earnest, and you ran away. You felt stupid for all of it.

You stepped into the elevator, clicking the button, your eyes on the wall as someone slid into the elevator with you. You looked up, beyond surprised to see Katsuki, standing right next to you with his arms crossed, letting the elevator door closed, leaving you stuck alone with him.

“What are you doing” he said bluntly, stepping slightly closer. You stared at him, a small blush creeping onto your cheeks for a moment before you looked away. “Heading to bed. This is the girls elevator you know” you said quietly. At that he scoffed and moved closer. “I know.” He muttered, leaning against the wall in front of you 

He was quiet for a moment as the elevator began to move before he finally spoke up, saying a gruff “Why’d you get upset?” Under his breath. You looked up again, sighing. “I'm not upset-” “like hell you’re not” he interjected, standing straight, looming so close to you, those narrow eyes, always trained on something or someone else, were now totally and utterly fixed on you. 

“You’re a terrible liar. Just be honest with me, and quit trying to act like I didn’t upset you.” He said it so honestly, his voice going quieter again as he stared at you, continuing. “Did I upset you?”

You stared at him, feeling dizzy as the elevator door opened. He looked at it and then back at you, groaning in frustration as he dragged you out into the hallway. “Which rooms yours?” He asked, and, totally confused, you just pointed and he dragged you through the door, looking around. “You suck at decorating” he said bluntly before sitting you down. “What’s. Wrong?” He repeated, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

You were still so confused. Why did he care so much? Why would Katsuki fucking Bakugo be so concerned that he knelt in front of you like this? Did he actually feel bad? Did he actually care about you?

At that thought your struggle slipped out faster than you could stop them. “I like you. And I wish I didn’t” you whispered, your words falling into the silence of your room as he knelt in front of you, his expression as unchanged as ever.

The both of you were silent for a moment, just staring at each other. Your breath was rather rapid, and there was no hiding your blush now. Why did I say that why did I say that why did I say that why did I-

“Seriously? That’s it?”

You could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle in his voice as he spoke up. “I knew that.” He said simply, standing up. “Like I said, you’re a terrible liar.”

Before you could respond, or even grasp his words, he was already walking towards your door. But he stopped at the door, as if sensing your confusion. “Your decorations aren't… terrible… and I guess I like you too”

Your breath caught in your throat. he said that last part so quickly as he opened the door and walked through, saying a quick goodnight before closing it behind him. what the hell just happened? Best believe you’d be pondering the answer all night 

Meanwhile, Katsuki was walking back down the hall to the elevator, taking deep breaths as he adjusted his uniform tie. he didn’t know why he let that slip out, but he knew it’d make you feel better…maybe. god he hated it when he couldn’t think things through before he spoke. 

The truth is, Katsuki had never ignored you. He’d never tell you that though. The glances he’d steal at you were much quicker taken. Shitty hair knew, hell, even Dunce-Face Kaminari knew. But he’d swore off ever telling you. He had too much he wanted- no- needed to do first. But now, those plans were a bit muddled.

And, despite what he said, he didn’t actually know you liked him back. He just said that in an attempt to deflect. What an idiot. A stupid, secretly lovesick idiot. 

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Part 2?

Hey hey! If you haven't already, may I get a good ol' shoujo like classic confession from Bakugou?

A Spark of Truth

You were standing by the window, absentmindedly watching the rain as it tapped lightly against the glass. It had been a long day, and you were just trying to clear your head. The sound of footsteps grew closer, and you turned to find Bakugou standing at the door, a rare, serious expression on his face.

"Oi," he called, his voice rough but not as brash as usual. "We need to talk."

You raised an eyebrow, heart suddenly pounding in your chest. He never spoke like that unless something was on his mind. You gave a slow nod, stepping aside to let him in.

He stepped forward, but didn't say anything at first. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his fiery gaze focused on you, yet there was an odd vulnerability in his eyes. You couldn’t quite place it, but it made your stomach do flips.

"Look," he started, and his tone was rough, like it always was when he was trying to hide something. "I don’t... I don’t know how to say this shit without it sounding stupid."

Your chest tightened at the unfamiliar words, and you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Bakugou never spoke like this unless it meant something serious.

He took a step closer, his hand gripping the edge of the desk as if he needed something to hold onto. "I’m not good at this, okay? But I need you to listen." His eyes softened for a moment, and you could see the hesitation in his expression, the way he was trying to find the right words.

And then, with a deep breath, Bakugou let it all go.

"I like you, damn it. A lot. I’ve been trying to ignore it for the longest time, but I can’t anymore," he muttered, his voice low and full of frustration. "You’re always on my mind, and I hate it. I hate how it makes me act all... like this. But I don’t care anymore."

You were frozen in place, unable to fully process what he’d just said. Did Bakugou, the boy who could never seem to express himself properly, just confess to you? Your heart was pounding in your ears as his words settled in your chest.

"I’m not good with feelings, and I sure as hell don’t know how to do this the right way, but… I’m here, and I’m telling you now." He stepped forward again, closing the space between you. His hands reached out, fingers brushing your arm like it was the most delicate thing he’d ever touched.

A quiet tension filled the air, the kind that could break you if you weren’t careful. And then, slowly, hesitantly, Bakugou leaned in, his lips brushing yours—just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

"You’re the one who makes me lose my mind, you know that?" he whispered, his forehead leaning against yours.

You didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, but it didn’t matter. His confession was all you needed to know.

"I like you, too," you whispered back, your heart fluttering as he let out a low, contented sigh, holding you closer.

And just like that, the walls between you two crumbled, leaving only the quiet comfort of mutual feelings and the rain tapping gently on the window.

.ᐟ lifeline

i.midoriya smau

you wouldn’t want to be tatted by anyone else.

a/n: tattooist!izuku i would move mountains for you i would kill for you

m.list

your favorite

bakugo x reader

Bakugo and you have been dating a little over two months.

You bumped into him at the mall, accidentally running into him and spilling the both of your take out. After apologizing profusely and begging him to let you pay for his meal, you two surprisingly got along well.

Striking up a conversation while you waiting for your food to finish.

Ironically you only found out he was a pro hero after you started dating. Having heard his hero name in passing but not remembering anything about him.

Fast forward to now, you were rushing to organize your place. This would be the first time Bakugo ever came over and you knew how much of a neat freak he was.

The door bell caught your attention, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants as you went to greet him.

You were met with his figure standing tall, in his lounge clothes, and holding a bouquet of flowers. Pulling him into your home was nerve wracking, watching him survey his surroundings and taking it all in.

He analyzed all your nicknacks and plush decor. Your apartment surprisingly normal, he knew how eccentric you were and thought your apartment would show that.

Putting away the flowers in a clear vase, the two of you enjoyed each other's company. Watching movies you couldn't before because of clashing work schedules and cooking those picturesque pinterest recipes he would send you.

It was all very domestic and comfortable, there was nothing short of things to talk about as you two gossiped.

You didn't think twice when he asked you where your bathroom was, simply directing him down the hall and to the right.

He left, leaving you to hum the song you guys were listening to ask you continued cooking.

Being a pro, Bakugo knew how to follow directions and heard what you said perfectly clear. But only having seen the kitchen and living room, he got curious about the door on the left of the hall.

If Bakugo was one thing, it was nosy.

Making sure you were still busy, he gripped the door handle and slowly twisted it open. Making sure it made no noise.

What he didn't expect when he flicked on the lights was your bedroom to be covered in pro hero Deku's merchandise.

He was stunned, from top to bottom everywhere he looked what his childhood friend staring back at him. His poster hung over your bed, and your sheets had cartoon versions of him in his hero costume. Figurines sat along your desk and shelves, Deku's catchphrase etched across your rug, and your computer monitor flickered with different action shots of him.

But worst of all, the stupid chibi plushy sitting smack dab in the middle of your bed staring back at him. You had slept with Deku before you even shared a bed with him.

You didn't even know who he was when you first met, but you admired his longest friend.

He heard your footsteps approaching as you called his name. Before you walked in on him, and rushing out your explanation.

Bakugo couldn't even be upset because not long after, he found himself doing skincare with you while wearing a Deku themed face mask and wearing an extra pair of Deku themed slippers. Later slipping into your sheets as you cuddled up next to him.

The stupid Deku plushy staring back at him from the end of your bed.

After Hours

Comfort AU | Just helping the blonde feel better about himself because he deserves the world.

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, fluff and angst, no smut, reverse comfort, wholesome oneshot, words of affirmation, he’s just a lil guy fr, 668 word count

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed throughout his silent dorm room. The only other noise being the rustling leaves outside his window - strong winds causing the autumn tree branches to sway in the chilly air beyond the glass.

"We really need to work on this habit of yours Katsuki."

The mattress slightly dips with the new added weight as she sits on the edge of his bed, likely staring at him, though he wouldn't know, as he lays backside to her - mindlessly staring at the wall.

He told her to not show, yet she did anyway, as always.

"Go away Y/N."

If only he'd looked at her, then he would've seen the way she simply smiled at his remark, unbothered by his blunt words.

She slowly lays beside him to make herself comfortable, a small yawn escaping her as she turns on her side to face his back.

"You can't keep pushing me away" she says softly, so much so that it could be considered a whisper.

"I said go away."

"I think your hurting-"

"Stop it" he mumbles, sharply cutting off her words with a huff. As his body tensed from her field of view. 

But he knows she isn't one to back down.

"You know.... to me you're the most important hero in my life" she hums, her hand slowly wrapping around his torso to spoon him from behind.

He doesn't push her away - making her only be met with silence. Seems he's already lost the urge to fight back, which only heightens her concerns.

Her grip on him tightens at that realization, "You don't have to blame yourself Katsuki, you're only human."

She doesn't say much after that, understanding the best form of comfort for him is offering silence.

In other terms - the invitation to speak if needed, while staying by his side, waiting patiently for him to let her in.

As time passes, she doesn't know how long it's been, the only thing occupying her mind being the urge to get a glimpse of his face.

He hasn't made a sound or moved in a while. Has he fallen asleep?

Her own question gets answered as she takes notice of his sudden shaking body, making her heart lurch at the immediate breakdown, his emotions finally reaching a breaking point.

Small sniffles escaping him as he finally lets his walls break down.

".....please let me hug you properly" she whispers, biting the inside of her cheek to not cry alongside him. It's not often he's so vulnerable like this, that she can't help but to feel pain at his own suffering.

It takes him a moment but he reluctantly shifts around, finally facing her as those red glossed orbs meet hers.

On that pretty face typically seen with his signature scowl now lies a defenseless version of Katsuki that only those closest to him get to witness.

"....hurts..."

Her eyes slightly widen at his small mumble, her body quickly moving on its own, pulling him into a tight embrace as one hand caresses his back while the other gently runs through his hair.

It doesn't take long as he decides to cling to her, burying himself against her body as muffled sobs escape him.

Silent tears flow down her face as she presses soft kisses against his scalp, "I know... but I'll listen. When you're ready, okay?"

He quietly nods beside her, pulling himself closer as she drapes the blanket over the two of them. It takes him a while but "....sorry for earlier."

"mhm i know katsuki."

There's no doubt in her mind that she's the only one with the privilege to hold him like this - so she'll wait for him, listen to his troubles and soothe the blonde seeking refuge.

In her eyes she doesn't see the angry hothead who strangers tend to avoid in the halls, but a wounded boy attempting to fix his past mistakes and accept himself to move forward.

Maybe this time - she can be his hero.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| this was inspired by an album called 'Cry' by Cigarettes After Sex (specifically the song 'cry' which can be heard at 27:44-32:01) : link! I think Bakugo is such a complex character and as seen in the show he often struggles with personal issues. In this fic, it's up to your interruption on what he's battling against! tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ     ⎯⎯ ✦

also i tried something different in the layout! as u can see i used colors for the first time to highlight a characters dialogue. whats more important is if YOU GUYS prefer this or not. please vote in the poll below so i can meet ur standards bc thats all i care about!

i put examples below if your confused (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

Option 1 Example : Bakugo mumbles with a scowl, "vote or your pillow will be warm tonight."

Option 2 Example : Bakugo mumbles with a scowl, "now fucking vote nerd."

when he sees me

katsuki bakugou x reader, blind date, first date, fluff, ooc?, based on this drabble, probably my longest written fic(around 2300-2400 words, but like thats a lot for me😭)

main masterlist | bnha masterlist

You’ve never considered yourself the romantic type.

Not for lack of curiosity, but because the idea of romance felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. Sure, the view was breathtaking, but one wrong move and you’d plummet into the unknown. Relationships demanded too much- a risk of losing control, of exposing parts of yourself no one else had seen, only to have it thrown back in your face.

That’s why, despite Mina’s relentless campaigning to set you up with her “perfect guy,” you resisted.

“C’mon, he’s not like other guys,” she insisted one afternoon, her golden eyes sparkling with determination.

You sighed, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “Mina, you’ve said that about all of your friends. And let’s not forget how the last one ended up being obsessed with his ex.”

Mina laughed. “Okay, fair, but this guy is different. He’s… grounded. Straightforward. No games, no fluff. I think you’d actually like him.”

“You’ve said that before too,” you teased.

Her pout was almost convincing. Almost. “Just trust me. One date. If it’s horrible, I’ll never bring it up again. Deal?”

You hesitated, weighing the risk of one awkward evening against weeks of Mina’s pestering. Reluctantly, you gave in. “Fine. One date.”

The restaurant was warm and inviting, its soft lighting casting a cozy glow over the wooden tables and shelves lined with potted plants. Mina had texted you the details earlier: 7 PM, party for two, under your name. She’d been oddly tight-lipped about who your date was, insisting she wanted it to be a surprise.

You were still skeptical, but a small part of you was curious. Maybe Mina was right this time. Maybe.

You arrived a few minutes early, hoping to gather your thoughts before meeting your mystery date. The host greeted you with a polite smile and led you to a small table near the window.

“Your party hasn’t arrived yet,” they said, pulling out your chair.

“Thank you,” you replied, sitting down and scanning the menu.

Minutes ticked by. You started to wonder if you’d been stood up when the door opened, and a blond man walked in, his sharp crimson eyes scanning the room.

You froze.

Even from across the restaurant, you recognized him. Katsuki Bakugou, pro hero and household name, exuded an aura that was impossible to ignore. He wasn’t wearing his hero costume, but the fitted black sweater and dark jeans were somehow just as striking.

Your heart sank. There’s no way he’s here for me.

But then his gaze landed on you, and he started walking over.

“You’re the blind date?” he asked, stopping in front of your table.

You blinked up at him, stunned. “You’re…”

“Katsuki,” he said, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Guess we’re both surprised.”

It took you a moment to recover. Of all the people Mina could have set you up with, this was the guy she’d chosen? Pro hero, explosive temper, and notorious for being brutally honest? It didn’t make sense.

“Uh, yeah,” you finally managed. “Nice to meet you.”

He gave a small nod, studying you with an intensity that made you shift in your seat.

The first few minutes were… awkward. He wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, and you weren’t sure how to navigate the situation. But as the evening went on, you began to notice things you hadn’t expected.

For one, he wasn’t as intimidating as you’d imagined. Sure, his words were blunt, but there was a surprising warmth behind them. He listened when you spoke, his attention unwavering. And when he talked about his work, there was a passion in his voice that made it impossible not to be drawn in.

“So, you’re friends with Mina?” he asked at one point, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah. We’ve been friends since middle school,” you said. “She’s been trying to set me up for years. Guess she finally got her way.”

He snorted. “Sounds like her.”

You smiled, relaxing slightly. “What about you? How did she convince you to do this?”

“Didn’t take much,” he admitted. “She said you weren’t annoying, so I figured it was worth a shot.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “High praise.”

“It is,” he said, smirking.

Despite yourself, you laughed. The more you talked, the more you realized that he wasn’t what you’d expected. Beneath the sharp edges and fiery reputation was someone who was honest, genuine, and… kind. In his own way.

When the night ended, he walked you to your car. The cool evening air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the restaurant, and you found yourself wishing the night could last just a little longer.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Didn’t think I’d like this whole blind date thing, but… you’re not bad.”

A small laugh escaped you. “You’re not bad yourself.”

His lips quirked in the faintest of smirks. “See ya around?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the weight of your fears pressing down on you. But then you met his gaze- steady, genuine- and you felt something shift.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “See you around.”

That night, as you lay in bed replaying the evening in your mind, you realized something strange: you weren’t overthinking it. You weren’t second-guessing every word or analyzing every gesture. Instead, you felt… calm.

For the first time, the idea of letting someone in didn’t feel like a leap off a cliff.

It felt like the beginning of something you didn’t want to lose.

You didn’t expect him to call.

Even though the night had gone surprisingly well, you told yourself not to get your hopes up. He was a pro hero, after all- someone whose life moved at a pace so fast it felt impossible to keep up. People like him didn’t have time for something as fragile and delicate as a budding relationship.

Still, the memory of his smirk lingered, sharp and vivid in your mind. The way his crimson eyes had softened ever so slightly when he teased you- so subtle you wondered if you’d imagined it- made it impossible not to replay the evening over and over.

Three days passed. You told yourself to move on, to not dwell on what was probably just a casual dinner for him. That is, until your phone buzzed with a text.

Katsuki: Hey. You free for dinner this week?

The message was so short, so him, that it took you a moment to process it. Your heart stuttered, and you stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity. Was this real? A small, incredulous laugh bubbled out of you. You couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through your chest.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should you reply right away? Wait a few minutes? Was it too eager to answer so quickly?

Finally, with a shaky breath, you typed back:

You: Yeah, I think I could be convinced. When were you thinking?

The pause before his next reply felt like forever, but when it came, it was so straightforward you had to smile.

Katsuki: Friday. 7. Same place.

Simple. Confident. And as you stared at the message, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

The first couple of dinners were... awkward, to say the least.

It wasn’t that Katsuki made you uncomfortable- far from it. But there was something about the way he carried himself, the unwavering intensity in his gaze, that made you hyperaware of every word you spoke. He wasn’t a conversationalist, either. The silences between you felt heavier than they needed to, filled with the unspoken tension of two people trying to figure each other out.

He wasn’t oblivious to it. One evening, while you sat across from him in a cozy, dimly lit restaurant, your fork hovering over your plate, he tilted his head and raised a brow.

“You gonna stop acting like you’re walkin’ on eggshells around me, or do I need to pry it out of you?” he asked bluntly, his tone laced with teasing, though his crimson eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Your fork clinked softly against the plate as you set it down, caught off guard. “I’m not walking on eggshells,” you retorted, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

His lips quirked in a knowing smirk. “Yeah, you are.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Just say whatever’s on your mind. I’m not gonna bite.”

There was something disarming about the way he said it- gruff but sincere. His words loosened something inside you, and before you realized it, you were laughing, the tension in your shoulders melting away. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“Don’t see the point,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “It’s more fun when people are just themselves. So, quit overthinkin’ and just talk to me.”

It was easier said than done, but something about the way he said it- direct, no room for doubt- made you want to try. And so you did. Hesitantly at first, testing the waters with little anecdotes and random thoughts. But as the night went on, the words flowed more freely. You told him about your day, about things that annoyed you, things that made you laugh. And Katsuki listened.

Really listened.

He didn’t interrupt or interject with meaningless comments. He just let you talk, his eyes steady on yours, nodding here and there or throwing in a dry remark that made you laugh despite yourself. By the time the check came, the air between you felt lighter, less strained.

When he walked you to your door that night, hands shoved into his pockets and that familiar scowl softening just a fraction, you realized you were looking forward to the next time you’d see him.

Things between you shifted after that. Slowly, in small, subtle ways. Dinners turned into late-night conversations that carried over into texts throughout the week. Katsuki wasn’t the type to blow up your phone with messages, but when he did text, it was always something meaningful- or hilarious, though he’d never admit he was funny on purpose.

One night, he called out of the blue.

“Look outside,” he said gruffly, not even bothering with a greeting.

Confused, you walked to the window. Sure enough, there he was, standing on the sidewalk with a bag slung over one shoulder, his free hand holding up his phone.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, laughing as you opened the door and stepped outside to meet him.

“Thought you could use a break,” he said, holding up the bag. “Brought food. Don’t argue, just eat.”

It was simple, thoughtful gestures like that- the way he remembered little things you said, like your favorite snack or how you liked your coffee- that caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to impress you; he was just... himself. Honest, genuine, and surprisingly caring in ways he’d never admit aloud.

The night it all came to a head was unplanned, much like the way your relationship had unfolded. You’d been feeling restless all day, the kind of itch beneath your skin that no amount of pacing or distractions could soothe. Katsuki must have noticed when he stopped by after work, because instead of sitting down like usual, he grabbed your hand.

“C’mon,” he said simply, tugging you toward the door.

“Where are we going?” you asked, though you didn’t resist, letting him lead you out into the cool night air.

“You’ll see.”

He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t push, curious despite yourself. He walked with purpose, his hand warm and solid around yours, guiding you through streets you didn’t recognize until you reached a quiet rooftop overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking- glittering lights stretching out as far as the eye could see, the hum of distant traffic a soothing backdrop.

“Wow,” you breathed, stepping closer to the edge to take it all in.

Katsuki leaned against the railing, watching you instead of the view. “Thought you might like it,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced back at him, your chest tightening at the way he looked at you. “I do. It’s beautiful.”

He stayed quiet for a beat, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again. “You’ve been outta it lately,” he said, his tone careful. “Figured you needed to get outta your head for a bit.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the weight of his attention- his care- making it hard to speak. “Thank you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

The silence stretched, comfortable now, as you both watched the city lights. But something was shifting between you, unspoken but undeniable. You felt it in the way he stood closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours. In the way his crimson eyes softened when they met yours.

“Katsuki,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “why do you... do all this? For me, I mean.”

He stiffened slightly but didn’t look away. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, his tone defensive, like the answer was obvious. “You’re important to me.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. He stared at your joined hands, his expression unreadable, before squeezing back.

“You’re important to me too,” you said softly, the words carrying more weight than you expected.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the glow of the city, something between you clicked. There were no fireworks, no dramatic declarations, but as Katsuki leaned in, his forehead brushing gently against yours, you realized you didn’t need them. This- his warmth, his presence- was more than enough.

'Open When' Letters From Bakugo

Open When You Need To Hear How Much I Love You

Tch, you’re really making me do this, huh? I don’t need to say it, but... I guess I’ll say it anyway.

I’m not the type to throw around words like ‘love,’ but you—you—are different. You make me... feel things, and it pisses me off that I can’t just push it away.

You think I don’t care? Think again. I might not say it all the time, but I do. I care more than you’ll ever know. And yeah, it’s frustrating because I want to be the tough guy, but when you’re around, I’m just... not.

So don’t ever doubt it, alright? I love you. And I’ll make sure you never forget it, even if I have to be an asshole about it.

-Katsuki

P.S. Don’t go getting all sappy on me. Just... take it as it is.

they both think theyre the most normal guy in the room

𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Summary: Bakugou didn't realise that the hand whose help he rejected would be the one he holds for the rest of his life...

Bakugou who swears to hate your guts from that day he met you, the U.A. entrance exams, calls you an extra getting in his way when you were clearly trying to help him. Who sends you the nastiest side eye when you plop down next to him, on your assigned seat.

Bakugou who refuses to listen to any of your suggestions when you both end up being partners for projects. Drives you to the point that you end up having to go to Aizawa to hopefully get your partner changed.

Bakugou who realises that maybe your input isn't as bad as he originally thought when Aizawa forces you both to communicate. Who won't admit but he does think that you are a smart one, and he would gladly partner up with you again.

Bakugou who is smug when you both end up getting best grades on your project, who is even giddy to work with you. Who spends hours convincing himself that he is only excited because you are smart, that's it.

Bakugou who ends up sparring with you because Kirishima had a mission, who realises that not only are you smart but also strong, using your quirk in a way that leaves him baffled.

Bakugou who still picks fights with you, both still at each other's throats, it's worse now that you both are aware of each other's strengths and weaknesses. You bicker over movies during movie night, bicker over what song to play during trips.

Bakugou who is surprised to find you at his door after he was kidnapped, his mother ecstatic to see a girl coming over to see him, teasing him about finally growing up.

"The hell?! How do you know my address? Stalkin' me?" Bakugou spits out, glaring at you with his arms crossed.

"Aizawa told me, plus I wanted to meet my friend." You chimed, the word 'friend' slightly dragged out. He stared at you in disgust, cringing at your way of establishing friendship.

"Also I got spicy garlic noodles, the one you like." You had him the white bag, passing him the container.

"Did you poison it?" He was already suspicious of your presence in his house, let alone you getting him his favourite noodles.

"Can't even be kind in the economy," you spoke dramatically, hand coming to rest on your forehead, as you pretended to wipe your tears.

"I got it cause I had it few days ago, and it reminded me of you." You professed, looking over to a clock and concluding it was time to leave.

Bakugou who spends the evening thinking about how you thought of him, when you had those noodles, how you remembered how much he liked them, how you got it for him.

Bakugou who acknowledges you as a friend by the end of first year, something a little more by the first half of your second year, the war making him realise just how much everyone mean to him, just how much you mean to him.

Bakugou who somewhat considers the idea that might like you, more than a friend should, and he is scandalized, the possibility of liking you like that makes him avoid you. He doesn't need distractions, doesn't need anything to prevent him from reaching no. 1, so he avoids you.

Bakugou who starts skipping movie nights with you, starts sparring with Kirishima more often, starts taking evening shifts at Best Jeanist's agency to avoid you. Who still cares for you tho, he quietly asks Iida to help you with academics because he knows you'll get anxious, who asks Uraraka to spar with you. Who hopes his distance doesn't affect you, hurt you as much as it hurts him.

Bakugou who is startled when you show up at his door, in the middle of the night, few weeks later, tired of him avoiding you without any explanation, desperate to get him back in your life.

You look tired, eyes red and puffy like you just cried, cheeks sunken.

"I am sorry, whatever I did, I am sorry," You sniffed, eyes glossy with a new wave of tears, Bakugou felt like shit, it was his fault, was the one that wanted to distance himself and here you were apologising.

"I am sorry, I am an idiot," He confessed, hands coming up to press against his forehead," Shouldn't have pushed you awa-." He barely has a chance to continue before you wrap your arms around him, Bakugou shoves his face into the crook of your neck, finally letting go of his tears.

"I just wanna know why, I don't want our friendship to ever break, Suki." You admit, moving past him into his room, pulling him with you.

"I was being stupid," He sighed out tiredly, choosing to simply hold you tightly against his chest.

Bakugou who stays behind during 2nd year prom, with you because you didn't feel like going, who lies about not having a suit when you feel guilty about making him stay with you, both of you spend the night in his dorm, watching movies all night long. If you weren't so enamored by him you would have noticed the burnt orange tie peeking through his closet.

Bakugou who passes you notes during boring lectures, drawing little caricature of people around, writing down little notes. Who messes up his sleep schedule tutoring you before exams, helping you study, sharing his notes.

Bakugou who despite being in 3rd year still argues with you, still squabbling over which movie to watch, what to cook, but there is a difference in the way you look at each other, there is no longer hatred in your eyes, only fondness and maybe something more.

Bakugou who helps you patch up injuries after rough missions, who holds your tightly against his chest when you sob over how sometimes you don't think you are strong enough. Who cleans you up, tucks you in bed and stay with you till you feel better.

Bakugou who never bother entertaining any of the girls that come his way, eyes set on you only. Who no longer gets mad when someone from his friends group points out how much of a lover boy he is. It's true he thinks.

Bakugou who shows you his shoujo manga collection, lets you borrow them only on one condition, that you read them to him, who spends countless evenings with his head resting on your thighs, listening to you read.

Bakugou who takes you to the bookstore on your days off, both of you skipping between the shelves, pulling out a pile of mangas that you end reading all afternoon. He makes a note of the ones you liked, writing them down in his phone.

Bakugou who tags along with the squad to a night out at the club, only because you decided to go, he helps you get ready, picking out your dress, helping with your eyeliner.

The music was loud, too loud for you, Bakugou had his arm around you protecting you from the dancing crowd, if you had it your way you would have pressed yourself in his arms and hide away, but you didn't. Mina was leaving for internship after graduation, you needed to let go for tonight.

You pull away from Bakugou, semi-yelling in his ear about wanting to use the bathroom, he almost pulls away from the group, ready to accompany you there. You shake your head at him, signalling that you'll be back soon.

Finishing up, you leave the bathroom, only to be stopped by a guy your age, he was clearly drunk, slurring his words, trying to move closer, he tried to hold your hand, pulling at it. Had it been any other time, you would have knocked some sense into him. But today you were not feeling well. Your eyes darted around, trying to call someone, before they landed on Bakugou.

Bakugou who immediately starts moving towards you, when he notices your panicked look, slams the glass on to the table, in few wide strides he was already looming over the creep,"The fuck, do you think you are doing?" He growled, sliding a hand behind your back and pulling you onto his chest.

The guy scoffs before looking around in embarrassment, too afraid to stand up to Bakugou he moves away from you both, stumbling out the club.

Bakugou looks down at you, with soft eyes pulling you away from the crowd into a empty hallway. "You gonna be okay?" He asked in hushed tone, stepping back to give you space, but you cried out, hastily hugging him tight, as you breathed unevenly against him.

He wrapped his arms around you, fingers running through your hairs, the other protectively against your back. It took a few minutes for your breath to even out, and you slowly pulled away, slightly cringing at the wet stain on his shirt from your tears and potentially snot.

"I am sorry." You said, voice still a little hoarse from the crying, you didn't move to far away from him, still in his embrace, still in his arms.

"For what?" He queried.

"For being weak, for not being able to defend myself, for the snot on your shirt." You rasped, letting out a bittersweet laugh at your pathetic self.

"Don't ever apologise for asking for help, you are more than capable of taking care of yourself," He spoke softly, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and whipping your nose,"you just needed a little help today."

You nod your head, stepping away, glancing towards the crowded hall nervously. "Do you wanna go home, we can leave now." He hums, hand coming to caress your cheek, palm subtly covering your view of the party.

"I would like that." You lean against his palm, Bakugou helps you gather you stuff and move you both out of the club, hand never leaving yours.

Bakugou who is always with you, whether it be sitting in class, or walking in the hallway, at one point even Aizawa stopped berating you for staying in each other's room past curfew.

Staying in each other's room becomes such a prominent habit, that you can no longer distinguish between his and yours. Closets filled with both of your clothes, textbooks and notebooks scattered between shelves.

Bakugou who loves adorning you in his merch, official and unofficial both. Constantly getting you t-shirts with skulls on them, sometimes skulls with bows because he thought they were cute.

Bakugou who gets you tank-tops and t-shirts so similar to his own, that people end up asking if he actually let you borrowed them or if they are new, who gets so smug that people think you are wearing his clothes.

Bakugou who knows how cold your ears get during winter, gets you big, puffy, orange earmuffs, with boom written on the headband connecting them.

Bakugou who makes a habit of hovering over you, ends up giving you scary dog privileges, making any guy avoid you, slots his head into the crook of your neck, when someone tries to flirt with you. Somehow always attached by your side.

Bakugou who gives every guy that tries to ask you a stink eye, glaring at the guy from over your shoulder, scaring away majority of them. You have to lie to all the guys that ask you out for 3rd year prom that you aren't going, only to show up in matching outfits with Bakugou.

Bakugou who shrugs his shoulders when Kirishima questions him 'What's going on between you two?', eyes darting towards you as you shyly duck your head into his neck, Bakugou leans down pressing a kiss against your forehead.

Bakugou who confesses to you few months after your graduation, tickles your side relentlessly when you pretend to think about his proposal, you both quite down as he presses your foreheads together, breaths heavy as you wind down. You murmur a 'yes' before leaping in to kiss him.

that wasn't me!!

kaminari, midoriya, bakugou, shouto, sero, dabi, iida x reader (individual)

his friends are sick of his endless pining and ask you out on his phone. someone has to make a move, can you really blame them?

notes: i was really trying to make it so i didn't default denki being the one who steals their phones bc his ass would be most likely to pull that shit. i like the idea of katsuki getting so fed up with izuku/iida talking about you + doesnt get why they havent made a move so he does it for them forcefully. like here. damn.

this is such a random headcanon but i feel like izuku doesn't care if fans or strangers record him for the most part when he's outside UNLESS he's eating that's the one time he's actually aggravated to see a camera be pointing at him

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: spider-man! midoriya because it makes sense. not proofread!! sorry for mistakes . also i want to specify that izuku really reminds me of tom hollands portrayal of peter parker, literally two puppy eyed losers, so obvi that movie is more of an inspiration than tasm.

spider-man! midoriya, who’s been called useless and felt the same thing his entire life only for it to change when a curious spider bit into his arm. now, he can at least do something and even if it mostly goes unnoticed by civilians and stuff — he doesn’t care because the sense of justice and duty in him is too strong. but he does dream of his favourite hero, all might, noticing him one day.

spider-man! midoriya, who has to get a new school uniform because not only is he taller than he was before, but he is also wider and overall bigger, which needs to be hidden, obviously. although, kacchan does notice the fact that he’s the same height as him now, even a little bit taller, which becomes something everyone likes to tease the blond about. bakugou on the other hand is fucking furious, demanding izuku tell him how he got so tall right fucking now, or i’ll kill ya, nerd.

spider-man! midoriya, who hides his proud grin whenever he overhears people being impressed with his abilities as they watch videos that other civilians took. videos of him flying around, hanging from his self-made webs and apprehending bad guys he encounters, and it’s a nice feeling until someone starts to bash him for stealing police’s work. police could never be like him tho!!

spider-man! midoriya, who sleeps for 2-3 hours every night and comes to school with cuts and bruises and spends his time thinking of how he can improve and be a better hero. he does hours of research and spends all of his scholarship on different materials and stuff that could make his suit more durable and resistant to all kinds of things: tears, rips, rain and all that.

spider-man! midoriya, who thinks he’s so slick with everything and he’s got everything under control. little does he know about you, silently watching him from afar.

spider-man! midoriya, who despite being gifted with an amazing eyesight, is blind to your surveillance of his behaviour. how you notice every time he disappears in the middle of a lesson after taking a brief look at his phone, how he forces himself to slow down when p.e. classes come around and pretends to not be able to pull himself up more than 4-5 times, which only gets a delighted howl from katsuki, the self-proclaimed “best”. you notice how he winces sometimes, bracing a hand against the table as the other clutches his side or his ribcage and how he stays late after chemistry classes. maybe it’s just that you like him so much that it makes you be so observant of him, however there’s something off about izuku midoriya.

spider-man! midoriya, who thought he was a magnet for trouble, but you seem to wear that title just as easily as him.

spider-man! midoriya, who saves you because for some reason you attract trouble like no one else does. someone tries to pickpocket when you lean down to feed a stray kitten, you nearly walk into a pole when you’re too immersed in whatever you’re watching on your phone, or someone almost runs you over when you’re crossing the road — izuku really doesn’t understand how it happens so many times.

spider-man! midoriya, who is pleasantly surprised by the newfound connection between the two of you. he doesn’t mind spending unnecessary amounts of time walking you home through the long path so he can continue rambling and dodge your silly questions about his abilities and how did he get them, thoroughly enjoying the frustration that covers your features. you don’t even know it’s him, your classmate of two years now — izuku midoriya, who is the proclaimed nerd of the said class.

spider-man! midoriya, who didn’t even know you were this talkative since he always hangs out with the same people and the only reminder of your presence in class is when the teacher is checking the attendance. you’re always somewhere in the background yet you always seem to know what they’re talking about. maybe it’s because mina seems to be friends with you and since her mouth is like a unstoppable force once opened you slide into the conversation very easily, and no one seems to mind. after meeting you one too many times as spider-man, izuku’s attention always somehow drifts to you yet he doesn’t notice the familiarity that sometimes fogs your gaze as you listen to his replies attentively.

spider-man! midoriya, who has to cover his face so no one notices how red it is when he accidentally catches you doodling spiders in your notebook.

spider-man! midoriya, who is delighted to be paired with you for a project. you offer to study at his place, referring to your house as ‘too loud’, and izuku is totally fine with it. he has no idea that you’re already sitting in his room by the time he’s done with his usual patrol routine.

spider-man! midoriya, who slides into his room through the window and when he turns the lights on, the last thing he expects to see is your shocked face: brows nearly disappearing into your hairline, eyes wide open, mouth ajar and ready to scream.

THIS IS INCREDIBLE

sunflowers

pairing bakugou katuski x f! reader status: standalone, one-shot, completed wc: 17k

summary: there you stand at the beginning of the world, with you and your sunflowers; your lovely liar's smile. contains: childhood frenemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining

author's note: canon-compliant but i bend it; early childhood and then up to season 3. also cross-posted to ao3, and a repost from a now deactivated account. please also check out this lovely art by @/jisokai. thank u endlessly beloved!

The first time you meet Bakugou Katsuki, you are six-turning-seven, and you remember it well. Not just because it’s the first day of school, or even that it’s your birthday. Rather, you remember it because of him , and though you think you would rather die than admit it, there is some part of you⏤ a more rational part⏤ that can temper itself down to acknowledge the fact.

You remember it well, because that morning, your mother makes sure to doll you up extra pretty. She dons you in a frilled dress like it is your armor, taking extra care with your hair, its bows, and she does: so much that there is an extra skip to your step as you walk. You don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. But you still make sure to say your thank yous to all the unfamiliar faces that compliments you with gummy smiles and a not-so-quiet, conspiratorial grin. “It’s my birthday!” 

You remember the way your cheeks hurt from forcing the wideness of it, the way you think it has started to sound like a mantra. You remember smiling, nonetheless, at his friend, as he wishes you a happy birthday! in return⏤ you are smiling at his friend, and not him.

You remember it well, because the first time you ever meet him, he looks you up and down, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and dares to call you ugly. 

If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. Already, your new friends are tensing for the inevitable confrontation. “You can’t just say that to her,” Sueko says, her eyes already narrowing in a glare.

“And who the hell are you, extra?” The crimson-eyed boy scowls right back. 

The other girl wilts a bit, but her glare remains set.

You decide, right there and then, that she is your new best friend. 

You smile. If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. But you don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. So you only give him your kindest smile, because your mother told you to play nice in the morning, as she brushed out your hair. You make sure to give him a once over, glancing down, and then up. 

“It’s okay!” Your eyes curve, ingratiatingly polite; ingratiatingly sweet. “Some people are just born blind. And stupid.”

“HAH?” His reaction is exactly what you hoped for, and it’s almost too easy . “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING⏤” 

The slight quirk of your mouth is amused, but you only turn, pointedly, to your new best friend. “Any chance you’re free this weekend? Let’s hang out.” 

She stutters an answer, eyes darting between you, and the blond you know is seething behind you, if the glare he’s practically boring into the back of your head means anything.

You tilt your head to the side. A little inquiry, a little push. “So?”

Hands slam down on your desk, cutting out her squeaked yes . You jump a little at the sound, your eyes widening⏤ both a little bit at the sound, and how close his face suddenly is. All of a sudden, you’re glad you didn’t call him ugly right back⏤ it would have sounded petty, after all, and almost certainly would have bit you right in the foot, considering how this crimson-eyed boy is so clearly not.

“I’m talking to you.” Well. You think, he’d probably be a great deal prettier if wasn’t glaring down at you, face contorted in what seems like half snarl, half scowl. 

His friend adds, a little bit placatingly. “Bakugou-san’s not stupid. He’s really smart, actually, always been top of the class. He’s really cool!” 

You note the way the class eyes him, the way the blond’s eyeing the door. He grunts. “I also have twenty-twenty vision.” His chin raises, arrogance in the set of his features, a bit calmer at the praise, but also a touch quieter, almost a bit wary. 

The door opens. He glances back, just as a man walks in, old enough that you assume that he is your teacher. 

It takes effort to keep the shit-eating grin from spreading across your features. “Are you sure?” You ask instead, completely straight-faced. ( You should really consider acting, you think. You’re practically a genius! ) You simper, a hand covering your mouth. “Could’ve fooled me.”  

It’s almost too easy, you think, the way he explodes, literally. 

“YOU WANNA FIGHT, EXTRA?” Miniature blasts pepper the table, and you might have thought it intimidating, if it’s not for the way your sensei is stalking over, looking almost as murderous as the boy himself. “I’LL KILL YOU!” 

You coo a little, fearless with the backing of your newfound supporter. “You’re really scary. That’s illegal , you know.” 

He opens his mouth. But then⏤ “Bakugou. Seeing as it’s the first day, you won’t be getting detention.” His mouth closes mutely. You grin a little at the way he’s being pulled away from your desk, fingers still clutching at the edges of it⏤ by the scruff of his collar, and somewhat like a dog, you think.

His eyes flash, a little bit angry, a little bit dangerous. He points one grubby finger in your direction. “She started it!” 

The sensei also pins you with a stern look. “The next time this happens, the both of you’ll be staying after class to clean, as detention. Am I clear?” 

You gape at both of them. It’s half genuine, half not. You think this verdict is a little unfair. The boy grins, smug.

A complaint is on the tip of your tongue, then you see the sensei’s expression:  deadpan, tired, and unsympathetic.  You sober up, frowning a little. 

“Okay. Sorry, sensei. I’ll try.” 

The crimson-eyed boy is still glaring at you, a little victorious, a little smug, but with a gleam in his eyes. This is war, they seem to say, silent and from across the room.

Little does he know, it has been, ever since the moment he decides to look you up and own, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and calls you ugly .

You blow him a kiss.

He jolts. The face he makes is obviously a frown of disgust. 

The sensei straightens. You smile ingratiatingly, turning away.

This is war , his eyes seem to promise, and really, you can’t help but agree. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your revenge is served not even three days later, on a Saturday evening, and you think it is the sweetest thing you have ever tasted.

You have your father to thank for it, actually. The boy, whose name you learn is Bakugou Katsuki, is something of a mini celebrity at your school. 

This means that the surface level things are easy to find⏤ he has anger issues, an explosive Quirk, and is smart , consistently at the top of the class. ( You frown a little when they tell you. These are all things you already know, and the only new information⏤ he likes spicy food ⏤ isn’t helpful in the slightest. ) But this also means that, knowing his temper, there are very few willing to actively take your side, and much more openly against you. You are the new girl, the outlier, and though he can’t quite make you an outcast⏤ you and your horde of girl-followers ( bought with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ he has enough friends, or rather sycophants , that will ignore you in the hallways, or mutter names at you.

The boy in question doesn’t, though.

He storms up to your desk the second day. You are chatting with your friends, as he slams his hands on the desk and snarls: “ Fight me. ” 

Catching your pencil just before it falls, you frown up with him. “What ever happened to: hi, hello, how are you?” 

“Hi, hello, how are you.” He sneers. “Scared?” 

“No, and my answer is no.”

His scowl deepens. “So you are scared.” 

“I’m a healer.” You lift your chin in outrage, affronted. “I’m not violent.”

“Nah. You’re just an extra.” 

Internally, you seethe. First ugly, and now an extra. You have never been called such things in your life. You open your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue. 

The sensei walks in. 

It dies in your throat, Bakugou’s face splits into a shit-eating grin. He turns away, head held high; arrogant and condescending, having won this encounter by a mile. 

Wrath boils in your ears, but you tamp it down, expressionless. Your pencils are carefully aligned, your notebook opened with just a little more force than necessary. Internally, you promise yourself, he’ll get what’s coming to him. You will make sure of it. 

You get your chance soon enough on a Saturday evening, dolled up again in a dress your mother painstakingly picked out for you, your hair pressed into careful curls. Your father had told you: your family had been invited to dinner by a friend he’d met at work, and that they have a son in the same grade as you, in the same school. 

You had shrugged. So long as there’s a chance their son would be willing to join your Anti-Bakugou Society ( consisting only of you at the moment ), you don’t particularly mind.

“Play nice,” Your mother reminds you now, as you stand before the door; your father knocking on it. There is a bouquet of sunflowers clutched in your hands, matching the color of your dress, and you only scrunch your nose up a little at her. 

“I’m always nice.” 

Your mother doesn’t get a chance to respond, because then there’s a⏤ Katsuki, get the door! ⏤ along with an answering⏤ “SHUT UP, OLD HAG! I’M GETTING IT!”⏤ and then, you blink.

The name sounds rather familiar. The voice, too. 

The door opens. You stare, wide-eyed, as a head of blond hair enters your vision, familiar and crimson-eyed.

He’s just as stunned as you are, as you watch, with no small amount of delight, as he takes one look at you, and then the sunflowers you hold in your hands, and sneezes. 

Christmas has come early, you think. “Katsuki! This is your house?” You step a little closer, a sickly sweet grin on your face. 

He dodges the sweep of your bouquet. A pity, you think, but you are successful: he only sneezes all the harder.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you… by any chance allergic to sunflowers?” 

Your mother gasps, tearing the bouquet from your hands. She had been the one to pick them out.

He doesn’t need to respond for you to know the answer: as soon as they’re taken away from his immediate vicinity, his sneezes lessen.  

Your mother had been the one to pick them out, and you had disliked the way they looked. But you decide, there and in the moment, that they are your favorite flower. 

He straightens. His nose is still red, and there is murder in his eyes. “Why the hell are you here?” 

His mother sweeps in, pinching him by the ear. “You will not address our guests that way.” She hisses, before looking up at the three of you, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to teach him manners, I swear⏤”

“No worries at all, Bakugou-san.” Your mother says, correcting herself at the other woman’s oh, just call me Mitsuki! She pinches your ear in turn. “This one is much the same. A righteous demon, she is.” You narrow your eyes a little at her. 

The blonde laughs, and the way she ruffles her son’s hair is terribly fond. “That’s just part of their charm, I suppose.” 

He hisses up at her. She hisses right back. 

You love her, you think.

“Oh, where are my manners!” She straightens, blinking. “Please come in. Masaru’s in the kitchen, just setting up⏤”

Your parents walk in first, complimenting the decor. Mitsuki beams at them, and down at you. “Masaru tells me the two of you go to the same school,” She says. “Have the two of you met before?” 

You say: “Yes!” at the same time he gives a flat, but resounding, “No.” 

He glares daggers into the side of your head. You grin. “We’re in the same class, and he’s my best friend!” You exclaim, the lie rolling easily off your tongue.

“No the fuck I’m not.” 

“Language, Katsuki!” Mitsuki reaches for his ear again, her face the picture of delight. “I’m so happy you’re finally making friends!” 

“WE’RE NOT FRIENDS!” 

She gasps, affronted, looking like she wants to tear him a new one. You smile. Your parents look on, utterly lost. “It’s okay, Mitsuki-san. That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you angel. ” And from the look on her face, one might have thought she truly believed it. She whips around to glare at her son. He glares back. “I don’t know how she puts up with you, but you’d better treat her well.” You grin at him from behind, terribly smug, and terribly victorious. 

She turns around, and your smile is pretty again, pleasant and soft.

Mitsuki coos at you. You think the dichotomy between the way she talks to the both of you is like heaven and earth. “Come over to our house more often. I’d love to have you over anytime!” 

“HAH? WHAT⏤” 

“We wouldn’t want to trouble you, Mitsuki-san.” Your mother says, assertively. She is shooting you the look , the one that means she knows what you’re up to. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” She dismisses the statement with a wave of her hand. “Katsuki has few enough friends as it is.” 

Your father laughs, ever the mediator. “We’ll have to invite you over next time as well. We live just down the street.” He brightens. “Actually, seeing as they’re classmates, they could maybe walk together in the mornings?” 

Your mother’s grip tightens around his arm. 

There is a wicked grin on your face. “I’d love that!”

The boy in question doesn’t even get the chance to protest, because Mitsuki’s already chirping. “It’s settled, then!” 

You think: it doesn’t even matter if he emerges victorious in all the encounters you have after this, because when the adults turn, you get to stick your tongue out at him.

The look on his face is so quietly violent, so blatantly murderous, as you wave your still sunflower-smeared hands in his face, that you think you will remember the sweetness of this victory for the rest of your life. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your relationship does not change in the slightest after that.

Mitsuki invites you over to her house once a week, and your parents do the same. The adults do their own thing, and you do yours: trying your best to annoy the daylights out of your newfound nemesis, and he only does the same to you. You’ll make fun of his All Might merchandise, the ones displayed proudly in his room, and he’ll make fun of your Recovery Girl ones, the ones you have so painstakingly collected⏤ she’s not nearly as popular of a Hero. He’ll sneer: “So that’s why you used to kiss everyone you healed?” 

You’ll sneer right back, cringing internally at the reminder of that phase, though you are still Recovery Girl’s number one fan. “My Quirk’s literally activated through touch. You’d be lucky if I poked you with a ten-foot pole, let alone heal you with a kiss.” 

He’ll make a face. “Eugh. You wish, idiot. I’d never want to kiss an extra like you.” 

The two of you have learned to act relatively civil with adults in the house. You smile up at him, sickly sweet. “Yeah. This extra is an idiot, and she definitely didn’t score higher than you on the last history test.” 

By one point, but still. 

He snorts, though you can tell the reminder irks him. “That’s only ‘cause you sucked up to sensei like, three classes in a row.”

You sniff in derision.  “I did not.” Sure, it’s true: you’d definitely been a little more active in class, and answered more questions than usual, but you’d studied for it! You’d studied a lot!

He sneers back. “Did too.” 

You have learned to imitate the murderous glare he likes to level you with, and the first time you mimic it, you grin a little as his eyes widen, stunned.

The two of you are civil for the most part, though, at each other’s houses. His mother would tear him a new one if she heard him acting anything but⏤ ( she has )⏤ and you think you like his parents too much to ruin your relationship over something as trivial as this. 

School is a different story, however, as are your walks in the mornings. “Shut the fuck up,” He’ll snarl at you.

“But Katsuki-kun!” You’ll coo right back, using the tone you know he hates. “I haven’t even started talking yet!” 

He’ll scowl at you. You’ll simper right back. He’ll speed up, and you do not slow, nor do you attempt to match his pace, because you know: if you slow, he will too. Always keeping that same distance, and if you speed up⏤ well, you’d tried that once. And you’d kept pace with him for all of two seconds, before he’d sped up in turn, until the both of you were practically sprinting to school. 

You lose, of course. You have never run a day in your life.

( You start training right after. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack.

( Your mother picked out the flowers, but you are the one that held them, and you were also the one to decide, there and then, that these were your favorite flowers in the world. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly stunning in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. 

“You’re ruining my shirt,” He grouses. “Stop crying. I’m literally more injured than you are.” 

You sniff. “I’m not kissing you better.” 

He snarls. “Come anywhere near me with your mouth and I’ll blow your face off.” 

“You want it so bad it makes you look stupid.” You tell him, and he tenses beneath you, but you only press your cheek to his neck, and think, heal.

The pain of the bruises lances through you, and you feel the way he relaxes.

You droop. “Onwards, steed.” 

“I will literally drop you.” 

“I just healed you. I’m tired.” 

“No one fucking asked you to.” 

He doesn’t, though, and eventually, you sigh a little into his neck.

“What.” 

“Nothing.” 

“ What, dumbass.” 

You hum, a little absentminded. “You’re going to UA, right?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Oh, I was thinking of applying for the healer understudy openings.” You shrug. “Dunno if I can get in, though.” 

“You will.” His certainty surprises you. 

You smile. “Didn’t know you believed in me so much, Katsuki-kun.” Your head flops back onto his shoulder. “Will you still walk with me in the mornings, then?” 

“After school, too. Even if you don’t get in.” 

You shift to blink up at him in surprise. 

He clicks his tongue. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this uncomfortable. “Who the fuck else’s gonna punch shitty stalkers for you?”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before, like the sun cresting upon the horizon, lighting up like a dawn inside your chest. You laugh at the feel of it. “Are you sure you woke up on the right side of the bed today? Besides, you don’t even know where I’d be going.” You reach up to pinch him on the cheek. 

He jerks away, the look on his face disgusted. “Then I’ll teach you to fight.” 

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like. There’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food , and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. 

( That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love , you tell Mitsuki-san, once upon a time, and though you are not sure if it is love, you think: you do not mind it. )

This is how your relationship is, and how it remains, until the end of the second last year of middle school, right before the both of you enter UA.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are asleep at your desk when you are jumpscared awake. 

“UA? That national school? Isn’t their acceptance rate really low?” Someone in your class is asking. 

“That’s exactly why you guys are just extras!” You roll your eyes as the ash-blond jumps straight atop his desk. “I aced the mock test! I’m the only one at this school who could possibly get into UA. I’ll definitely surpass All Might and become the top hero!” 

This is not the first time you’ve heard this tirade. Sueko nudges you, quietly. “Hey. Didn’t you say you were applying for one of their healer slots?” 

“Oh, yeah.” The sensei glances down at his list. “Midoriya wanted to go to UA as well, right? And someone else…” You tense.

The class bursts into uproarious laughter, and it seems you are temporarily saved. 

“Huh? Midoriya? No way! You can’t get into the Hero course by just studying!”

The green-haired boy stammers. “Th-they got rid of the rule! There’s just no precedent…” 

You roll your eyes at the sound of familiar explosions. “Huh? Deku! You’re below the rejects! You’re quirkless! How can you even stand in the same ring as me?”

“No, wait! Kacchan! It’s not like I’m trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me!” He falters “It’s just that it’s been my goal ever since I was little! I won’t know unless I try…”   

“What do you mean, unless you try? You’re Quirkless!” 

You slam your textbook down with a little more force than usual, and the whole class turns to you in surprise. “He has a dream that he dares to try for,” you say, coolly. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“And what the hell would you know about that?” 

Disbelief rushes through you, and you turn to look him squarely in the eye. The class tenses, and his own eyes widen. It has been a while since you’ve challenged him like this directly, whether in school or otherwise. 

Sueko pipes up, unhelpfully, from beside you, as if he wouldn’t know. “She’s also applying for UA.” 

You don’t get the chance to glare at her, because your sensei continues the thought. “Oh, yes, that’s right! You were the last student applying to UA! How’s the process coming along? The healer routes are notoriously difficult⏤ how’s that coming along?” 

“Ah, I applied to some hospitals for volunteering, but I don’t know if they accept middle-schoolers,” You laugh. 

Your sensei nods, in support, but also a little condescendingly. “Well, it’s also a very difficult path, so don’t beat yourself up about it too much, yeah?” 

The smile on your face feels a little bit painful, a little bit stretched. 

You are distracted for the rest of that day. So out of it, in fact, that when the sensei calls upon you, his favorite student, you take all of five seconds to respond⏤ blinking, first, then glancing up, with a: “ Sorry , what was the question?” You are so out of it that you bump your hip into your own desk as you move past for lunch, wincing at the twinge of it, and you are so out of it that you forget your pencil case when you leave after class, and have to go back to get it.

“Believe that you’ll be born with a Quirk in your next life, and take a last chance dive off the roof!” 

You know that voice. You pause. But then, the blast of familiar explosions. 

Before your hands, the door slams open. 

You don’t know what you were expecting. Bakugou and Midoriya both, obviously, and you suppose you should have known his two lackeys would have been there, too. They turn from their face-off, and your glare is sharp and terrible. “So what if he’s Quirkless?” You snap, storming over to grab the green-haired boy by the wrist. “At least he has a dream. At least he dares to try . That’s more than I can say for the two of you.” 

“Stay out of this,” The blond snarls, a warning. 

You are not entirely a good person. You lie as you please, wielding the power of your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and do things entirely for your own amusement, uncaring of the aftermath. You know Midoriya, or rather, you know of him, and how he is a frequent target of Bakugou’s scathing remarks. At first, you had assumed he’d just been one of the people that disliked you, but it had become increasingly evident that he was just one of the people that didn’t dare to brave the blond’s wrath. And you are not entirely a good person, because you just didn’t care . Not to talk to him, not to stand up for him, not if he hadn’t even tried to for you.

You are not entirely a good person yourself, but even so, you know that there are lines that should not be crossed. 

You lift your chin, and say, quietly. “Apologize.” 

“Hah?” He tilts his head. “And why the hell should I? Why the hell are you defending him?” 

You feel incredulous. “What does that have anything to do with it?” You don’t see the way his eyes flicker down to where you are holding the green-haired boy, by his wrist. “There are things that you should never, ever , say to a person.” His eyes narrow, but there’s an irrational anger within you, a disbelief. “You’re literally trying to become a Hero. How can you, an applicant of UA, who hopes to become one of the best heroes in the world, tell someone to kill themselves, and not think there’s anything wrong with it?” 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Little explosions are escaping his hands, in the uncontrolled way they do when he’s furious and unaware of them. 

You think Midoriya makes a pained sound, what with the way your hands are clenching, angry and white. Heal. A sting pulses through you, and you drop his wrist, but your eyes are flashing. “You’re being an ass. Apologize. ”

“ You don’t tell me what to do. ” 

You lift your chin. “If you value our friendship in the slightest, then yes, I do. ” The vehemence of your words stuns you a bit, and the blond recoils, as if he has been physically struck. 

You think you have won, for all of a moment, and then he scoffs.

“Yeah, right. What friendship? The one you lied to my mom about and said that we had? That friendship? The one that doesn’t exist? Won’t exist?” 

His sneer is not harsh, but the breath that leaves you is shaky.

You do not hear his next words.

( You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly nice in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like, and there’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food , and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one.  )

This is how Katsuki-kun shows his love , you say to Mitsuki-san once upon a time, but now, you know, because you have learned to read between the lines of his words; to understand him: that this is just how he treats liars who worm their way into his world, and how he tolerates them.

Your lip wobbles. There is a lump in your throat. But you will not cry for him, nor will you plead. Play nice , your mother chastises you once upon a time, because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. She chastises you once upon a time, because you do not particularly care to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you.

You are petty, yes. Vindictive, too. You may not be that much of a good person, and you are not without your own feelings, hypocritical as that may be. But you are trying , and you are genuine, or at least as much as you can be, as much as you ever have, and he⏤ he has just thrown all of that in your face. 

“Fine, then.” You smile, and you are unfeeling as you lie. “I’ve never thought of you as a friend, either. Don’t talk to me again.” 

The door slams behind you.

You do not hear his next words, so you do not hear him mean: not while you choose him, and not me.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki is six-turning seven the first time he meets you. 

It is the first day of school. You are seated at your desk, a crowd of adoring sycophants around you. “Happy birthday! You look really pretty today,” His friend says from beside him, and he looks you up and down. You are wearing a sky-blue dress, with your hair pressed into careful curls.

His cheeks warm. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, but he only grunts, looking away to the side. “Dunno. She looks pretty ugly to me.” 

“You can’t just say that to her,” Your friend hisses. He doesn’t know her face. 

He scowls at her. “And who the heck are you, extra?” 

She wilts under the force of his glare, and he feels a little better, as if satisfied.

“It’s okay!” You smile. He blinks. Maybe he should call you ugly more often.

And then you call him stupid. And blind.

And the rest is history. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The results of your hospital volunteer application are sent back the next week, and the first thing you think of, somewhat bitterly, is that at least now, you have a proper excuse for skipping out on your weekly dinners. 

You have already skipped out on the first, pretending you feel sick. 

Your phone is still silent. You have not talked to him since that day, not even to check up on him when you see the news, though your fingers itch to. You think of sunflowers: how you didn’t even like them, until him. You think of how your bag now feels empty without its signature pins, how you have thrown every scrap of yellow clothing into a pile in your closet, your sunflower-themed charms and notebooks tucked away. 

Proof of life comes from your mother, and you do not turn on your phone. 

You break your silence two days later, pushing your vegetables somewhat morosely around your plate. “My volunteer application was accepted. They’re letting me intern at the hospital.” 

Your father beams. “That’s great news! You should’ve told us earlier! Honey, we have to eat out to celebrate! Oh, I need to tell Masaru⏤” 

“I won’t be going to weekly dinners for the rest of the summer,” You cut in. Your mother’s chopsticks pause midair. 

Your father blinks at you. “Surely the hospital isn’t making its interns work that much.” 

“Well, I’m applying to UA.” You shrug. That much is true, but it’s also just so you can fill in your hours, work yourself down to the bone. “I’d like as much experience as possible.” 

Your mother is watching you carefully. 

Your father clears his throat. “Well, don’t work yourself too hard.” He says, jokingly, as he dishes another helping of food upon your plate. “You tell us if they’re giving you any trouble, alright?” 

You force yourself to smile back. “‘Course, dad.” 

( Your mother asks you, a week later, when you arrive home from your internship. “Are you still friends with him?” She has asked you a similar question once, years ago and late in the evening, at the end of the dinner party, your father drunken and half-leaning on her shoulder.

You give her the same answer you did then, and in the same way. Cheery, and without a hint of hesitation. “Nope!” 

She is watching you carefully. 

You excuse yourself, and she does not ask you about it again. )

It feels like the days never end, and yet summer passes by before you can blink. You banish all thoughts of blond hair and crimson eyes entirely from your mind, and truthfully, you do not have the mind to think of him much, anyways. You steal the pain of your patients and make it your own, smiling at the brightness of your faces as you heal one, then two, then several more. It tires you terribly so, and between your time at the hospital and pre-studying for the UA exams, you’re so fatigued each night that you fall asleep before your head even hits the pillow. You don’t even have the time to meet up with your friends. And before you know it, the last year of middle school is upon you, as are the start of your applications. 

It is a whirlwind of things to do, so much that you feel you do not have the time to breathe, or even think. Katsuki’s been placed in a different class from yours, which comes as a relief in more ways than one⏤ firstly, that you don’t have to see him, and secondly, because you can let your grades fall just a little, and still come out as top of your class. Between your intern shifts, your mindless studying, the applications, the tests and quizzes and preparing endlessly for interviews, the thoughts of anything else vanish entirely from your mind. You do not feel the emptiness of your afternoons, nor much of your mornings. 

About two months in, Midoriya Izuku is the one to seek you out. 

There is a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth, a textbook in your other hand. You notice him when a shadow falls over it, blotting the light out. You glance up, drawling. “Yes?” 

“Can I… talk to you for a moment?” He ventures, nervously, a tray gripped in his hands. 

You eye him a little strangely. 

You haven’t seen him since four months ago⏤ you haven’t really been paying much attention, and even the reminder sets your walls of iron slamming up. He’d been shorter then, you think, and significantly more hesitant. The boy from back then would never have even dared think about approaching you like this.

He flusters. “I-I just! Another time is also okay, or if you don’t want to, that’s also okay⏤” 

There he is , you think, a touch amused. “Can it be said here?” 

Beside you, Sueko’s jaw drops. You can feel the stares of your friends boring into the side of your face.

“Y-yes?” 

“Then make it quick.” You flip the page of your textbook. 

He hesitates. “Is it really okay…? For me to sit here?” 

Your eyebrow arches, high. “Since when have you been unable to sit where you like?” 

Mutely, he sets his tray down, and sits. 

You only flip another page. “You can either eat or talk.” You say, conversationally. “Lunch won’t last all day.” 

Obediently, he takes a spoonful of rice, and swallows. “I just… wanted to thank you.” He begins.

You know exactly what he is talking about, and your throat tightens. ( You think of your backpack, how empty it feels, but your refusal to tack on your sunflower pins anyway. ) You shrug. “No need to thank me. I didn’t do it for you.”

“Even so,” Midoriya perks up a bit. “N-no one’s ever stood up for me like that before, and especially not to Kacchan… I-I’m really grateful, either way!” 

You snort a little. Never would you have thought Midoriya Izuku , of all people, would stand here one day, thanking you. 

“I think you’re a really good person,” He says to you, a little bit hesitant. It jolts you a bit, the genuine honesty of his tone, but what you are not prepared for is what comes after. “And I know Kacchan does, too.” 

Your spoon stops halfway to your mouth.

“He still cares about you,” Midoriya says, a touch softer. Your friends are not looking at you, but you can still feel the weight of their gazes, their ears.

You say as you set your spoon down. “If you want to be friends with me, then you will never speak of him again.” 

Midoriya watches you carefully, notes the finality in your tone. His gaze rises to a point above your shoulder.

He flinches.

He does not speak of what he sees, or of this conversation, ever again. 

You do not turn, and you do not ask.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The week of UA acceptances arrive, and you await your own with bated breath. 

Your father laughs as you run out exactly at eight every morning to check, before he finally deigns to tell you that the postman usually delivers to your house around twelve. “I knew that!” You say, and he laughs at the obvious lie.

You stick your tongue out at him, but you still sneak out the next day at the same time, just in case . 

But as it turns out, the postman is late. You know this, because Midoriya texts you late in the evening, after dinnertime, with his signature All Might emoji and a brief: check your mailbox!!!!!

You stop, your heart in your throat. You don’t think you are breathing. 

He’s still typing, spamming your text messages with a thousand All Might emojis, each of them more despairing than the last. You do not know what this means. And then, you see his next message: I got in!!!!!  

It turns out that you are not, in fact, breathing.

You feel like you are holding the whole time you’re fumbling through your mailbox, dropping random letters haphazardly onto your doorstep. That one looks like it’s important , you think, distantly, and it gets dropped somewhere onto the growing pile at your right, scanning them all for a familiar logo, and⏤ you see it at the very bottom of the pile.

You thumb it open with shaking hands. Congratulations , it reads, and you scream.

( You think for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. )

Your father pokes his head around the corner. “I heard screaming. Everything alright?” 

Your mother is smiling. “Mitsuki just called. Katsuki’s in.” 

Your father is looking at you with wide eyes. You are grinning, there are tears in your eyes, and you are wordless in your delight. 

Your mother laughs, soft. “I suppose two congratulations are in order.” 

“Midoriya also made it, so make that three.” You correct, grinning. 

Your father whoops. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”⏤ and for the first time in almost a year, you feel light as a feather, like the world is spread wide before you, and you are a young god before it, your wings wide and at the ready. 

For the first time in almost a year, you think, for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. You think of reaching for your phone⏤ ( and if you did, you’d see his icon that you’d purposefully wiped blank bubbling )⏤ but you don’t. You think of a boy with blond hair and crimson eyes that you have not looked at in almost a year, how you’ll brush past him in the halls, surrounded by your gaggle of friends, your uniform and makeup, your armor, and try not to note how he’s grown taller. For the first time in over a year, you think of him, and your heart does not feel like an empty cavity in your chest; you do not feel so hollow, nor do you ache.

Your heart only squeezes, a little tight, but. 

You think you will be fine.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are delusional. You are not, in fact, fine. 

You are standing in front of the classroom door. It spells the code of your class: 1A , in bold lettering, proportions inhumanly large. You are three minutes late, but it’s really not your fault⏤ you’d simply fangirled so hard over the fact that you’re finally getting to meet your idol in person last night that you’d barely gotten any sleep, and your mother had had to haul you practically out of bed and out the door, throughout the whole of your alarm. 

You slide open the door. Instantly, you’re met with a sea of faces, and you steel yourself⏤ but then. 

For the first time in over a year, you see him, and all of a sudden, you are painfully aware of the lack of yellow on your figure; your backpack entirely empty of its signature sunflower pins. 

The smile is frozen on your face, and he looks just as shocked as you feel. 

A voice drawls at your side. “You must be the healer,” You are glad for the distraction; the source a scraggly-haired man halfway through removing himself from a sleeping bag. Your sensei, you deduce. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, sensei!” You bow. “I overslept because I was fangirling too hard over meeting Recovery Girl today! I promise it won’t happen again!” 

A wave of soft laughter ripples through the class, and over the din, you hear a⏤ she’s kinda cute! ⏤ at the same time as a⏤ oh, I love her already. 

“If I get hurt, will I get to see you?” A voice calls, and you turn to see a boy⏤ blond, and your heart stutters for a moment, but his shade isn’t ash, it’s golden. He’s grinning cheekily up at you. 

“No flirting in my class.” Your sensei warns. “But yes, seeing as she’s 1A’s healer understudy.” He turns to you. “Recovery Girl’s waiting for you in her office. You know where it is?” 

You nod cheerily. “Sir, yes, sir!” 

“Good.” You turn at the obvious dismissal, shooting a wave at your green-haired friend as you do. 

You leave the classroom with your shoulders set, your chin tilted high, your outfit your armor, and your makeup your helm.

You pretend like you do not feel the crimson glare that seems like it’s trying to pierce through the back of your neck. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Recovery Girl likes you, and you feel as if you are floating for the whole of a day. Not even meeting Bakugou’s gaze the next morning can knock you from it, nor can the grape-haired boy’s leering from across the room. You can’t really dwell on them for long, either, not with the crowd of people aggregating by your desk. You blink up a little, surprised.

It’s not like you’ve made an effort to dress up especially pretty today, and you don’t think you’ve come off as incessantly nice. You are not the you from first grade anymore⏤ you don’t just think yourself pretty, you know you are⏤ but are confident enough in your own skin that you have stopped putting on airs; have allowed yourself to be as cold and sarcastic and dry as you want. Most of your girl-followers⏤ ( the ones you buy with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ have only seen glimpses of you like this, and you can count on one hand the people outside of your parents who know you as you are. 

Sueko, Midoriya, and of course, him. 

You do not dwell on it for long. You are confident in your own skin, and though you would like some more friends, you do not wish to temper yourself to gain them.

You smile a little at the question the purple-haired boy asks, disliking the way his eyes are lingering at your chest. “You’re all welcome to drop by the clinic anytime you like. It’s what we’re here for, after all. Though, if you want a kiss to make you feel better,” 

You pause a little bit for dramatic effect watching the eyes of several boys brighten just a bit.

“You’ll have to go to Recovery Girl.” 

Your straight face is very well-practiced, but you do not hide the small quirk of your mouth as you watch their souls die. 

An arm slings around your shoulder, its pink-skinned, pink-haired owner grinning at you. “I think we’re going to be best friends, you and I.” 

You remember thinking the same thing about a different girl, when you are six-turning seven, and you hear the same genuinity behind it.

( You are clad in your outfit like armor, your makeup a helm. Today, you are exactly as cold and sarcastic and dry as you like, because you are confident in your own skin, and you do not temper yourself in the slightest. )

You smile up at her. “I think I’d like that!” 

Her grin widens, but then, an older Hero walks in⏤ Cementoss, you think. You have made an effort to memorize the roster. “To your seats, everyone.” He calls. 

You take out your notebook, neatly arranging your pens. New year, new you. You don’t have as many shifts at the hospital anymore⏤ you don’t need the experience exactly, as you’re sure UA will look good enough on your resume, but it can’t hurt. Besides, you enjoy working there anyways; the older nurses who help you out with a kind smile, the doctors who are almost always willing to answer a question. But the lessened shifts allow you to breathe, just a little, to settle back into a healthier routine; one no longer so bogged down by your thoughts. 

Math transitions quickly into English. You think you prefer Cementoss’s teaching style just a little, even if Present Mic is more energetic⏤ a little bit too loud for your tastes, you think. The material is basic, seeing as it’s the unofficial first day of class, and though you’ve already pre-studied most of the content, you end up writing most of it down, anyways. 

Lunchtime arrives. You balance your tray on your hands, walking side-by-side with Mina. Midoriya waves at you from his table, surrounded by an assortment of friends, and you nod back. “Let’s sit there!” The pink-haired girl points excitedly at a particular table. 

You see several boys from your class, some more familiar than the rest. A head of ash blonde, crimson eyes that glance up to meet your own. 

“Midoriya wanted me to sit with him today,” You say, a touch apologetic. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?” 

Her eyes widen a bit, and you note the glance, the observance. Her own smile is your mirror, just as apologetic, and just as assertive. “Maybe another time,” She says.

She knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to say it. You like that about her. 

You incline your head, eyelid pulling down in a wink. “Do let me know which one you like,” 

She only laughs at you, her answering grin somewhat sly. 

All Might steps into the room after lunch, and though you’ve never been one of his particularly die-hard fans⏤ you think of your sunflowers, how you make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours⏤ you can admit that in person, he stands a legend in real life. You are just a little starstruck, you think, as he smiles at you, and says⏤ “Do try to keep your injuries to a minimum, though not to worry! Our healer team will be here to assist you!” 

You find yourself grinning a little as you respond, “Nothing fatal, though. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything about anyone bringing a dead person back to life.” 

He booms a laugh. “Naturally! You are all Heroes! You should refrain from using lethal power whenever possible!” 

He speaks too soon. The first teams are called up, and the matchup is almost comical. 

Bakugou will be fine. You know this. You are not worried for him in the slightest⏤ not that you would , you tell yourself, a touch sardonically.

No. What you worry for is the state of your Quirkless friend, and you are right to worry. Bakugou seems almost angrier than you’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying a lot, considering how good you are⏤ how good you used to be, you correct yourself⏤ at getting on his nerves, though Midoriya seems to be holding up very well. 

Your friend has grown, you think. He is not at all the same person he was over a year ago in that classroom. 

But you are right to worry, because All Might is shouting into his microphone. “Young Bakugou, stop! Are you trying to kill him?” 

No , you think, immediately, instinctively. You know Bakugou is many things, but he is not that. Never that.

You feel the force of that explosion from here. “This is supposed to be a class!” One of your classmates, red-haired and red-eyed, is saying. “You have to stop him!” 

“He knows what he’s doing.” You find yourself saying. Somewhat cold, somewhat callous. There are eyes on you, surprised.

You shrug.

You don’t really know why you say it, either. 

“Young Bakugou, the next time you use that, I’ll stop the fight, and your team will lose. To attack on such a large scale inside is inviting the destruction of the very stronghold you are supposed to be protecting. That is a foolish plan for both heroes and villains, and you will lose a lot of points!” 

You don’t need to look at him to feel his teeth gnash in anger, but you still watch the screen, anyways. 

Their clash is violent. You remember saying, once, that you dislike violence because you are a healer. But that is not entirely true, you think: you see the passion in their every movement, even as your green-haired friend receives the brunt of the beating, the callous elegance of it. The careful calculations, the years of training that you have walked alongside to witness. 

“This looks bad!” One of the classmates from before seems to shout. “Sensei!” 

You don’t dislike violence just because you are a healer. What you have always disliked is the senseless brutality of it, the cruelty of its aftermath. Not because you have to deal with it, but because sometimes, you can’t. 

You look to All Might. He seems to be struggling with something. 

“So long as it is not fatal,” Your voice is soft, but no less firm. “I can heal it.” 

His mouth tightens, but you see his decision made in that moment. 

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see Midoriya’s Quirk. Your eyes widen. It’s so sudden, so powerful, that you almost miss it; the blast entirely different from Bakugou’s own. So he was not Quirkless after all , you think, but all thought of that vanishes when you see the aftermath. 

All Might is turning for you, but you are already running. 

You see the two you are unfamiliar with first. “How is she?” You ask the blue-haired boy who stands upright. 

“I’m fine!” She gasps out. “Just nauseous! But Deku⏤” 

You hear the nickname, and you think you look a little strangely at her for it. You don’t dwell on it very long, though, because you’re already slipping past. 

Then, you see him, and though your heart stutters a little in your chest⏤ ( your bag, empty of its sunflowers )⏤ you still look him in the eye. You are professional. “Are you hurt?” You ask, because he is standing there, still gaping, a little open-mouthed. 

He turns that look upon you, and his eyes widen. 

The eye contact feels slightly unsettling. You look away first. “Well. If you are, you can let me know.” 

You kneel at the green-haired boy’s side. 

A hand stops you, just as you reach out. They’re a little bit bigger than what you’re used to, a little bit more callused. “Wait,” He says, voice raspy, and you tense a little: both at the familiar and unfamiliar touch, and because it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice. “You don’t have to⏤” He scowls, cursing. “Recovery Girl.”

You blink up at him, a little confused. 

But then you see his eyes dart towards your arm, and then the green-haired boy’s, lying prone on the ground. 

“I am a healer. It’s what I do.” 

“That’s not what I⏤” He curses again under his breath. “The damn nerd will be fine. Does he even know about your Quirk?” 

“Why would that even matter?” You are confused, and you shove his arm away. Your friend is still hurt , and he is keeping you from your job. Why do you even care? You want to say.

You bite your tongue, and think: heal. 

Midoriya blinks awake halfway through. Your arm is covered in purple contusions, and he gasps, jerking away. “You⏤ your arm!” 

They fade within seconds. You only reach again for it, feeling the crimson gaze burning into the side of your face, as you’re sure the rest of the class is too, from their camera screens hundreds of meters away. You stare straight ahead, and think, heal , even as your arm ripples in agony again, painted and purple. 

You steal your patient’s pain, and you feel all of it, but you don’t show a thing. Because you are a healer, and that’s what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are a healer, and that’s what you do, but the next day, Aizawa-sensei still admonishes you for it. 

“Your records are very impressive,” He tells you first, and you straighten. You figure: he is likely a man notorious for his lack of praise, so you might as well lap it up while you can. “However, just because you have a very high pain tolerance, does not mean you do not feel pain. Am I correct?” 

“Yes, sensei.” You dip your head. 

“The lot of you hear that, right?” He addresses the rest of the class. “She’s a healer, and she can heal almost anything, save those who are already dead. That’s very impressive, and it’s very rare. Don’t let her become your crutch. She will not always be there, and though she might say she doesn’t mind your burden, others will. Whether it’s yourself, your fellow Pro Heroes, or the civilians you are trying to save.” 

There is murmured assent from the class. 

He turns back to you. “Heroism is also about knowing when to step back and let others handle the situation. It is okay to share your burdens,” He tells you. 

You blink a little, surprised at the comments that are not really criticism at all. “I am a healer,” You state. “It’s what I do.” 

He sighs. “You’re just as stubborn as your mentor,” He says. 

You smile at this, chirping. “Thank you!”

“That was not a compliment.” 

You sink into your chair a little sheepishly, but it’s like a sun has been lit in your chest, because you take it as one anyways, and you are grinning. 

Lunchtime is a little strange today, for more reasons than one. Mina invites you again, but she doesn’t protest your decision, a knowing glint in her eye. But she doesn’t mention a thing, and you are grateful for it. 

Midoriya is sitting with the same people as yesterday, and he beams, delighted, as you slide into the seat beside him. Iida and Uraraka nod at you from across the table, and you nod back. 

Surprisingly, it’s the red-and-white haired boy across from you⏤ Todoroki, who breaks the silence. “My father says he would like to meet you.” 

You blink. That’s certainly not what you were expecting. “Endeavour, right?” 

He nods, his face deadpan. “Please decline.” 

You choke a little bit on the bite of food that has just entered your mouth. Midoriya slides you a napkin. 

You cough around it. “Wow, Todoroki-san. You really dislike me that much?” 

He shoots you a strange look. “Not at all. Why do you ask?” 

You’re a little confused. “Oh, that was a joke.”

“Apologies. I have never been very good with jokes.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, and I was planning on declining, anyways. I’m going to intern under Recovery Girl for the rest of my life!” 

“I will communicate that to him, then.” 

Midoriya coughs lightly from your other side. You elbow him. 

Uraraka giggles, but whatever she is going to say is cut off by the sound of the alarm. There has been a level three security breach , you hear. 

“Trespassing,” You hear someone clarify. 

You stare at the horde of gray-uniformed students crowding the hallway. You have never been a huge fan of crowds, especially ones as tightly-packed as this. Besides, you think, a touch dryly, that if there were an intruder, walking headfirst into a mosh pit like this would probably be the best way to get yourself caught up in a mass murder. 

But you don’t get to voice any of these concerns, because then Uraraka is tugging at your wrist. “If we don’t get ourselves in there now, we’re never going to get our way out! Come on!” 

You fall, weightless, and are carried away upon the sea.

It’s horrible. Internally, you curse the girl, but almost don’t even feel bad about it because yes, she’s like the sweetest person you’ve ever known, but she’s also reason you’re in the midst of a thousand wayward bodies right now, wrinkling your nose at the reek, and practically fighting for your life to keep your head above the throng. You are a healer, you think, a little despairingly, as you elbow someone so harshly that your own limb twinges. You are fighting a desperate battle, but nonetheless a losing one⏤ at least you are, until hands lift you by the waist and carry you forth; your savior cutting his way through the crowd with ease.

Your back hits the wall, and gratitude is on the tip of your tongue as you look up, but then you see him: ash-blond, and glaring at you with crimson eyes. “The hell were you thinking?” He hisses. “You don’t even like crowds.” 

You hate the familiarity in the way he says it, as if he still knows you, and you hate the way he cages you in against the wall, his body larger than you have known, but how it still feels the same, pressed up against yours.

( You think of your sunflowers, how your bag feels strangely empty without them. )

It is the nearest he has been to you in well over a year. You hate the way he smells, like burnt caramel, and you hate the way your cheeks warm. 

You want to say: neither do you , and you want to ask him why he even bothered to try and save you. You know he doesn't like you, not even in the slightest, not this liar who has wormed their way into his world; this liar that he tolerates. You think of a thousand witty remarks, ones that used to make his eyes light, the curl of his scowl somewhat harsh, but no less familiar, of giving voice to your outrage, to your feelings, and simply storming past. 

You choose none of the above. 

You still your features, the picture of calm, set the steel of your shoulders, and stare straight at a point above his shoulder. “Why do you even care?” 

You do not look at him, so you don’t see the way he recoils, ever-slightly. The expression he levels you, half-bewildered, half-disbelieving, the rest a complicated mix of emotions even he could not decipher himself.

You don't see the way he opens his mouth, because then Iida is there and shouting. 

You see your chance, and you don’t wait for his answer. You weren’t expecting one, anyways. 

He doesn’t even have the time to reach for you, before you slip past, and are gone. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You stand before the mouth of USJ, your heart in your throat. 

You barely notice the weight of the device upon your wrist; a monitor that connects you to all the ones distributed amongst the class, because there are villains down there, you think, a little dumbfoundedly. Real villains, like the type you see in movies, and you feel almost ridiculous, out of place, as if someone will smack you upside the head and tell you: wake up! and that you are not in a story . And you are not, because you pinch yourself, and yes, this is real life. 

You have never seen a villain yourself before, because you are a healer, and have only ever dealt with the aftermath of what they have done. You know the damage, the pain, the torture it can inflict upon a soul; the way sometimes, no one can ever fully heal them afterwards, not even you. So though you are a little wide-eyed, your thoughts blank, when the mist wraps around you, you don’t even think. 

You lunge. 

Crimson eyes widen, and he catches you, just one second before you fall into darkness as one. 

You try not to think about the way his body feels against yours, how he is cradling you, the way his hand automatically wraps around the back of your head. You feel the impact in your bones, though he bears the brunt of it. Automatically, you reach up, and think, heal , but you don’t have the time to do much else, because then his eyes widen, and he’s shoving you away. 

“STAY THERE!” Distantly, you think he is roaring at you, and another time, you might have protested that you could defend yourself. But the shock of it all is still settling in⏤ ( these are real villains, you think dazedly, and this is real life )⏤ and you are a healer, right now, you are nothing more than a civilian. 

In the aftermath, you still stand, dazed. Bakugou and another red-haired guy from your class are panting, smoke curling from your familiar ash-blond’s figure, and you register, like the world is separated from you by a film: it’s over. 

“Oi.” There are palms cupping your face, and you blink a little, startled, as crimson eyes boring into yours. “You hurt anywhere?” 

No , you think, a little too stunned to speak; the harshness of his tone at odds with the gentle manner of his touch. But then you see a hint of blood trickling down the side of his cheek.

As if on instinct, you reach out for him. He jerks away.

Wow , you think, the lump rising to your throat instantly. You had not known he hated you this much, to the point that he is unwilling of even your touch. 

“I am a healer,” You say, your throat somewhat tight. ( You think of sunflowers, your bag that is empty, your closet and its piled-up yellow. ) “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

You sense that he is watching you carefully, but your eyes do not rise to meet his gaze. You simply steal his pain, and you barely feel a thing⏤ even if his injuries were not so light, you think you are too numb to, anyways. 

You move past, and he does not reach for you. The red-haired classmate⏤ Kirishima , you recognize, grins at you, saying that he is unharmed. He offers to escort you back to the front, but then, your wristband is beeping, a location upon it.

You straighten. You are still afraid, you recognize, but there is someone out there that needs help, and this is simply another obstacle you must overcome. You will not always be in your hospital, tending to those that manage to get themselves wheeled in⏤ and though there is fear in you, there is also an equal determination. 

“There are people who need healing,” You say, and that is all you need to. 

You are a healer, but that does not mean you are any less brave.

You are a healer, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You ask Aizawa, two days later, if he would be willing to teach you self defense. 

( You remember a boy, back from what feels like eons ago. You, on his back, the sun in your chest as he offers to walk you both to and from school. You don’t even know where I’m going , you tease, and he only scoffs at you. Then I’ll teach you how to fight .

You think of your sunflowers, and your bag, empty of them.

Your throat tightens, and you make your decision. )

He looks a little surprised, and asks you if you are sure. He warns you that he will not be a lenient teacher, but you have seen how this man dove headfirst into danger to save his students; seen his kindnesses that are masked in the form of tough love. 

You also know he likes you, at least a little bit. If he hadn’t, he would not have complimented you like that on the third day, would not have had the hint of fondness in his tone as he drawled, that wasn’t a compliment. 

And even if he doesn’t, you know he will be at least a little lenient. 

You had been the one to heal him, after all. 

You are wrong.

You hate running. Always have. You started training, years ago, but that had been entirely out of spite, and in the wake of it⏤ ( your bag, empty of sunflowers )⏤ you had stopped. You hate running, always have, and you have no time, you’d told yourself, nor the energy⏤ but really, you hate it because it reminds you of him.

Now, you hate it for a different reason. You hate it because Aizawa pushes you, hard , until your lungs are gasping for air, your knees and legs trembling⏤ you think, somewhat sourly, that none of your healings had ever prepared you for this. You have healed all manner of wounds, cured a variety of diseases, but that does not change the fact even back when you were running, you had not put everything you had into it, and that now, you are trembling, bones soft, muscles even more so, somewhat like a deer.

You heal fast, though, you always have. You would not have been able to heal without it⏤ Aizawa knows this, which is why he pushes you hard . “If you hadn’t been so dedicated to medicine,” He tells you, “I would’ve told you to go the Hero route instead.” 

You shrug. The thought has never occurred to you. Your mother is a doctor, and as soon as your Quirk had developed, you had never thought about anything else. But you don’t get a chance to voice it, or even to thank him, because then he’s hauling you up by the arm.

“Break’s over,” He informs you, a signature shit-eating grin on his face. You think you’re beginning to hate the sight of it. “Back to running.” 

You sigh, before dutifully acquiescing. 

Schoolwork is easier, at least, though between your sparse shifts at the hospital and Aizawa’s daily after-school training, you are pretty much spent. You don’t even register Mina chatting excitedly beside you about the upcoming UA sports festival that Aizawa has just announced⏤ you only think, a little despairingly; more work. 

You glance up at your pink-haired friend’s surprised exclamation, and you see: a crowd of people, so many that from your vantage point, it seems like it’s the intruder incident all over again. A scoff, vaguely familiar⏤ “They’re obviously scoping out the competition, small fries. We’re the group that made it out of the villain attack.” Someone protests, telling him to play nice⏤ no , you think. This is him being nice. “Out of my way, extras!” 

“I came to see what the famous Class 1-A is like, but you all seem pretty arrogant. Are all the students in the Hero courses like this?” 

You see: a head of purple hair, mussed, and you think⏤ wow, he could be Aizawa if your sensei’s hair was shorter, purple, and he were using his Quirk. 

“Seeing something like this makes me disillusioned. There are quite a few people who enrolled in general studies or other courses because they didn’t make it into the Hero course. Did you know that?” 

You didn’t, but he only continues. 

“The school has left those of us a chance. And based on the results of the sports festival, they’ll consider our transfer into the Hero course, and vice versa. Scoping out the competition? ” He scoffs. “I, at least, came to say that even if you’re in the Hero course, if you get too carried away, I’ll sweep your feet out from under you.” His eyes flash, chin raised high. “Consider it a declaration of war.”

You sigh a little internally at the theatrics. “Excuse me, coming through.” You call. You ignore the way the ash-blond tenses a little as you walk up beside him, and you smile politely at the crowd; your uniform your armor, and your makeup your helm. You can do damage control just fine. “I’m class 1-A’s healer, so I don’t have a bone to pick with you really, but,” You cock your head. “All we did was fight off and survive a villain attack. I’m not sure how that’s arrogance. Have any of us gone out of our way to bother you?” 

You are sure your classmates haven’t, because though you have not known them long, you are observant enough to tell that they are good and dedicated to the path of Heroism. And you are right: he is wordless in the face of your diplomatic tone, the maturity of it all. 

But then⏤ a laugh, somewhat mocking. You think you recognize the voice, and you do: it’s class 1-B’s understudy, standing in the middle of the crowd. You have not talked to her much, thinking her quiet, but it seems that really, she just dislikes you. 

“That’s so rich of you to say,” She says, with a scoff. “Sucking up to Recovery Girl all the time, parading around like you own the place, all because you went viral and people started calling you The Best Healer of our Generation. ” 

You blink⏤ you remember Sueko mentioning it once, you think, after one of your co-workers, one of the older interns had started making videos of you, with your consent. You had not put much thought behind it, and you hadn’t the time to, between your many hours and the boneless weariness that had been so constant in your life after.

“Get off your high horse,” She snarls, a vehement finality to it, as she scans you, up, and then down. 

You don’t know what to say, because honestly, you had never thought of yourself that way; had not thought of any others thinking of you that way. There are cries of outrage from behind you, you hear, distantly, as if you are underwater, but you are still stuck on the way she scans you. As if you are less than what you are, reduced to the painted trim of your nails, the makeup on your face, less than what you are and undeserving. As if it does not matter that you go to the hospital more often than not, your features clear, your hair pulled up, and lose yourself in your work; the agony of your patients, healing them and then some more until your bones ache with the ghost of their pain and you drop dead to your pillow, your phone turned off. 

You are silent not because you are hurt, exactly⏤ you do not know this girl, and she does not know you⏤ but because you are so stunned. You don’t know what to say, because you have never thought yourself reduced to just this, less than what you are and undeserving. Distantly, you hear the cries of outrage, you feel yourself, adrift amidst an ocean, your hands clenching. You don’t know how to start, or what to even say.

But he does. 

“She doesn’t use social media,” He starts, and yes , you don’t, but how does he know? “It obviously wasn’t even her recording the videos, you fuckwit, and it says in the account biography that it’s owned and run by a friend.” 

You are staring at him, your heart held like hope in your throat. ( You think of your sunflowers. ) You don’t understand why he is saying this, why he is stepping in for you. ( You remember making fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You remember finding that you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He never calls himself your friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. )

He does not look at you, nor does he pause, and though there is anger in his voice, you think he is holding himself back. “High horse?” He laughs sardonically. “Get off yours. She’s already ten times the healer, hell, the Hero , you’ll ever be.” 

( He doesn’t call himself your friend, but he still stands up for you. )

You don’t know what sort of expression you’re making, but it has to be ugly, something complicated, not exactly bewilderment nor gratitude or simply hope but some combination of them all; something in between. 

“And what would you know? What are you, her guard dog?” She snarks back. 

And finally, you find your voice. 

“He does what he likes.” 

You are still watching him, and you see the way his hands clench, and then unclench. 

( You think very briefly of your sunflowers, and you think that you will always miss them. You can heal any wound on this earth, save the fatal ones, but you cannot heal the hole he has carved into your heart; not the one from this boy who knows you, every facet, both the good and the bad. You have never needed to hide the unsavory parts of yourself from him; after all, your very relationship was built upon a lie. You think a part of you has always loved him for it, will always love him for it⏤ this boy who is not your friend, has never been your friend, but still knows you, stands up for you, and believes in you, in all of you. And, you think, even if he does not care for you, there will always be a part of you that always cares for him. )

You turn to level her with a cool stare. 

“He’s right,” You say. “I don’t use social media, and before you call me a liar, just listen.” You add, as her mouth opens. 

( Your mother is a doctor, and when your Quirk develops, you know you want to go the same route. You have never even considered anything else; never even thought of being a Hero, until your sensei tells you that he might’ve pushed you for it, had you not already been so dedicated to the path. And you will not pretend like you have been good every step of the way ⏤ you are not that much of a good person. Your mother tells you to play nice , because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. You are not that much of a good person, you have never particularly cared to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you. You are grown now, better now, you know, but some elements of you still remain. You still wear your outfits like your armor, though it is not your hair but your makeup that is now your helm, you take time with your appearance and you take care of it every morning. Your volunteering at the hospital was not born entirely out of unselfish intention⏤ firstly because your mother said it was what you should do, and second because you thought the experience would look good, especially since you were applying to UA. But⏤ )

“I don’t know why you applied to UA, but I know why I did.” You say, simply. “It was because I wanted to become a healer, and this is one of the best places in the world to do it.” You straighten, jerking a finger at the ash-blond beside you. “We all went through the same application process. Take him, for example. He’s arrogant, he’s loud, and he always gets on your nerves. But that doesn’t make him any less passionate, or any less of a Hero. It doesn’t matter, because if you’re determined enough, strong enough, you’ll eventually rise to the top.”

You are the center of attention, but you have never been so aware of a singular set of eyes, burning straight into you.

You continue. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want to be, but that goes for the rest of you, too.” You jerk your thumb back to your classroom. “There’s a green-haired boy in there that everyone thought was Quirkless, including himself. But he had a dream that he dared to try for, and look where he is now.” 

You look at your fellow intern, the class 1-B one. 

“I don’t use social media for a variety of reasons, haven’t for a long while, and I won’t pretend like all of them were good. But ever since I started volunteering at the hospital, whenever I think about it, I think: every second I spend scrolling the internet could be another life lost. Someone I didn’t save, something I didn’t learn that could’ve helped someone in the future.” Your shoulders are set, and you lift your chin high. “You can think I’m a liar all you want, but I would hope, as a healer, you would be at least able to understand this.” 

She is mute, and you look at the rest of the crowd, wearing your outfit like armor, your makeup, your helm. 

You raise one eyebrow. “Anything else?” 

Silence is your only answer, and you shrug.

“See you around, I guess.”

The crowd parts mutely before you, but then your wrist is clasped in a hand⏤ you think, very briefly, of sunflowers, but then you turn, and it is Mina grinning up at you, several others from your class in tow. “You’re so fucking cool,” She tells you, bright and genuine. 

You are not that much of a good person, never have been, and, you think, you are not entirely sure if you ever will be. You will never be entirely unselfish, free of your precociousness, your pettiness, your occasional lying habits, and all the other thousand-and-one flaws you could find in yourself, if you really tried. 

But you are growing. You are the same you that you were before, and you are also different. 

You grin at her. “I know I am,” You say. 

You are not that much of a good person, but you are growing, just as much the person you were before, as you are someone new.

You are a healer, you are yourself; this is who you are, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

His mother calls him out on his sulking, barely a week in.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” She frowns, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest.

“S’fine,” He snarls. “Keep your damn nose out of my business, old hag.” 

For once, his mother does not take him up on the challenge⏤ he almost wishes she would. He’s been itching for a fight, to get it out of his system somehow, but she’s always been able to read him⏤ just like you.

Mitsuki waves the phone in her hand. “Her father said she won’t be joining us for weekly dinners anymore⏤ she’s started volunteering at the hospital, and just won’t have time.” She states, plainly, and without judgment. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, or if you’re still friends, but you were probably a little shit like usual, so get off your ass and go apologize.” 

Apologize. That damned word. He hates it. And he’s considered it, but then he remembers: you, your face, the way it had crumpled, and then the way you’d sneered, don’t talk to me again.

He has always been able to tell your lies from your truths, and it stunned him in the moment, because it had not seemed like so much of a lie. 

And it’s not. He sees the truth of it, a week later, when you skip out on your weekly dinners, accept your volunteer position, and cut the whole of him from your life, just like that. He sees the truth of it, on the first day of school, as he waits by your intersection and is almost late because you aren’t there, as he scans his class for your face and finds you absent, when you pass him in the halls and don’t even bother to look up. He sees the truth of it two months later, when that damned nerd stands at your table, a tray in his hands, and you allow him to sit. His heart is in his throat, clenching around something painful, there is smoke rising from his hands⏤ Deku looks up instinctively, flinching, and you do not even bother to turn. 

( You and your sunflowers, the way you smile like the sun when you find out he is allergic , and go out of your way to plaster sunflower-themed things all over yourself, and he’s not quite sure if they are your favorite flower, or you do it just because you hate him. But then he gets to know you, slowly and over the years, a thousand-and-one forced interactions until he finds, one day, that he is not reacting so sharply to your barbs, uncaring that you flop onto his bed and muss up the sheets, unminding of your chatter, your studious, stupidly competitive nature, the way your eyebrows knit a little when you focus on a more difficult concept, or how you’re grinning as you annoy him, rambling about anything and everything; your fictional crushes. You say you want to be a healer, and the first thing he thinks is: that’s stupid , why not a Hero?⏤ but your eyes are determined as you say it, there is a fire in them, and he sees that bleed into the way you do things; the way you act. You never call him your friend⏤ you have, once, very clearly a lie ⏤ but he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, promises to walk you to and from school, even if he does not know which one you might go to, promises to teach you how to fight. It’s stupid, he knows it is, the way he tenses when you joke that you want him to kiss you so bad because he’s imagining it. And then the guilt after, when you press your cheek softly into the curve of his nape, feeling the dried-out tracks of your tears, the way you shudder as you steal his pain⏤ barely-there, but he feels it, anyway. )

He looks at you, properly, fork crumpling in his hand. “Yo. You’re staring.” One of his friends nudges him, gently, and he forces himself to look away. 

( You, the sunflowers you bedazzle yourself in, your bag absent of them, and the way you never wear anything yellow ever again. )

He’s angry at you, at first. It’s unfair, he thinks, the way you seem to carve him completely out of your life, with all the practiced precision of a surgeon, that he spends almost all his time thinking about you, and that you do not do the same for him. You don’t want to talk to him, you’ve made that abundantly clear, and that’s fine⏤ he has his pride, and he is not going to beg you to stay. Not when you chose the nerd over him. 

But then you stand in the doorway. You look like you did the first day, clear-eyed, but older. Your eyes widen when they catch sight of him, ever-slight, but he’s never missed a single expression on your face, and he does not miss it now. All of a sudden, he wants to talk to you so badly that it hurts⏤ he sees the bags under your eyes and wants to tell you to sleep, the bone-weariness with which you carry yourself, your step absent of skip. 

But then, your gaze drops. He sees your bag, absent of its sunflowers. 

He feels as if his gut were a stone, heavy and damning. 

He remembers: you have never once thought of him as a friend, and he will not beg you to. He will respect your space, your wishes. 

And yet. You stand by the entrance, the day of that first class, fierce and silhouetted by the sun. Are you hurt? You ask him, and it feels as if he were floating, stuck in a dream.

He takes too long to respond, and you give him a once-over, clearly discerning he is fine. You kneel by the damn nerd’s side, and he feels the absence of your attention like a physical thing, but even that is secondary to the horror he feels when you reach the other boy; his arm painfully bruised and almost a terror to look at. 

He wants to say: you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to hurt yourself. There are other healers in the building, and don’t you have a mentor? You raved about Recovery Girl all the time, there’s no reason you should be taking his pain for yourself. And the nerd will be fine ⏤ anger clenches at him, then, because if the nerd knows about your Quirk and still allows you to hurt yourself for him⏤ “Why does that even matter?” You ask him, and he hears the ghost of what you don’t say: why do you even care?

He does. Of course he does. He always has, even when you giggle to yourself about something so blatantly stupid, even when you are an entire pain in his ass. 

But then he thinks of you, your bag empty of sunflowers, the way you have not worn yellow since. 

His arm drops back to his side, and he says nothing more to you, just as you’d like. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You have always disliked crowds, but so has he. 

He is watching you when it happens, sees you lingering hesitantly by the exit. You’ll be smart about it, he’s sure⏤ he’s hotheaded, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid or blind. But then⏤ brown-haired cheeks tugs you by the wrist, forcing you into the throng, and he thinks: what the fuck? 

He knows it’s stupid, and that you won’t thank him for it, but he dives after you, anyway. 

He forces his way towards you, watching as you elbow someone particularly hard with a surge of pride, before he’s holding you and marching away, towards the wall, towards free space, trying not to think about how you feel in his arms, how you feel with the whole of you pressed against him. He needs to say something, anything to distract himself, so what he says is: “What the hell were you thinking? You don’t even like crowds.” 

Your cheeks are a little flushed, and you are staring at him. He feels his own warm in turn, and he feels like a kid again, heart like a sun in his chest. 

Your features still. Your mouth flattens, and you are cold as you say what you did not only a day before. “Why do you even care?” You ask.

He does. Of course he does. 

But you do not ask this question in hopes of an answer. Your gaze slides past, and then you go with it, refusing to give him even the time to reach for you. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

When the mist envelops him, the first thing he turns towards is you. 

His eyes widen⏤ you are already in the air, lunging at him, and he barely has the mind, the presence of thought to catch you. You fall as one, and his gut lurches⏤ he wraps himself around you, shielding your vitals, your head from harm, and gladly takes the brunt of the impact. He has all of a second to check up on you, to feel you pressed against him, know that you are safe, before he catches sight of more villains behind. “STAY THERE.” He shoves you into a corner, setting his back to you⏤ and when they are done, you have not moved an inch.

He sees the daze of your eyes, the shock, and cups your cheeks anyways, trying to ground you. “Oi,” He says, harsh, but also soft. “You hurt anywhere?” 

You blink up at him, and then at the red he barely feels sliding down the side of his cheek. 

He jerks away. He doesn’t want you to touch him, not to heal him⏤ he’s strong, he’s fine, he can deal with it, he doesn’t need you to steal his pain. Not when it’ll hurt you. 

“I am a healer,” You say, and his heart clenches again at the sound of your voice, and again when you tell him: “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

He hears the steel in your voice, lets you touch him.

He would give anything to curl into your touch, even if for the rest of your life, your relationship is just like this: he, the dog, and your favors, the bone. He wants it, so long as you will keep on touching him like this, and yet he also doesn’t want it, because he cannot bear to be the one causing you such pain. 

He is angry beyond words when the extra starts laying into you like she does, and you simply stand there, bearing the brunt of it all. 

He’s watched the videos, seen every single one. Seen how hard you work inside of them⏤ the comments talk about how beautiful you are, but all he can think of is the tired pallor of your face⏤ but what’s more is that he knows how hard you work outside , too, and who is this girl to even talk about you like that, when she doesn’t know what it’s like to take the pain of another, and make it into your own? His tone of delivery is quiet, no less than lethal, and he speaks with every ounce of pride he has in you and the person that you are. 

You are watching him, he thinks, and he thinks, somewhat dizzily, that this is it. You’ll chew him out in front of the crowd, call him out on his bullshit, tell him to stop speaking about you, speaking for you, that you hate him, that he’s stupid, anything and everything of the above. 

But you do not.

You only rise, and he thinks that you are not at all the girl he has known before. Some parts of you are the same, entirely unchanged, but you have grown⏤ so much that it takes his breath away. You have always been coolly elegant in your deliveries when you mean it, but this ⏤

He thinks: it is okay if you never want to talk to him, if you don’t care one bit. It is okay if you choose never to wear yellow again, your bag remaining empty of its sunflowers, it is okay if you carve him entirely from your life. 

He will respect your wishes, and watch from the sidelines, basking in the radiance of you: the healer, the girl, and simply everything that you are. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You should not be here. 

You feel terribly out of place in this darkened room, with a crowd of familiar villains before you, disoriented and groggy. 

If it were not for the ash-blond by your side, you think you might’ve started hyperventilating. You are quiet as you wake. You notice: his hands are bound, but yours are not⏤ they know you are a healer, you think, and they do not fear you. 

You feel, rather than see, crimson eyes slide to yours. You blink up at him. 

And then, his eyes flicker up.

You see the resolve set firmly onto his face. You know him, likely more than he does himself, which is why you know what he will say. 

He says: “I’ll listen. I’ll consider working with you, so long as you make sure to leave her out of it.” 

No. The word clangs into you with a force, a viciousness. You jolt upwards, so fast your head spins⏤ no. You know he won’t. He is a Hero to the core, and you know this, because you have decided early on that you will remain a step behind him always, even if he does not care at all for you, there and ready to steal away your pain. You have decided: you will see him live out all of his days, full of glory and entirely unscathed, victorious, and you will not watch him burn his life away like this, tucked away in a corner of this world, quietly and without a sound. 

He lies to protect you, and you decide there and then that it isn’t worth it. You know him, have spent a thousand and one days getting to know him, just as you know that his bluff will be called before long, because though Bakugou Katsuki is many things, you have always known him to be a terrible liar . 

You aren’t, though.

You straighten, and rasp. “No, he won’t.” 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

He watches you straighten, watches you drawl, and he feels a terror like ice creeping over his throat.

Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, soft and lovely under the candlelight, but then⏤ “Katsuki’s going to be a Hero,” You tell them, and his heart stutters because when was the last time you actually called him by his name? 

“Shut the fuck up,” He tells you.

You ignore him.

“Trust me when I say, this guy’s like, the biggest All Might fan you’ll ever see. Well, actually, maybe not the biggest⏤ Midoriya’s collection is insanely impressive, but you get the point. Did you really see his actions at the Sports Festival and think that was your opening?” 

You stand, a smirk on your face, and he wants to tell you to shut the hell up again, to just stop talking, but⏤ you turn, you flash him a grin, and it’s like he’s six again and seeing you for the first time. You see him, in a way no one else ever has, in a way that assuages all the criticism he’s seen since, narrowing his world down to these things: you, and your unwavering confidence in him. Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, you are scared and terrified and pretty much everything in between, but he hears your words, hears your truth.

“Newsflash, losers. He’s wanted to be a Hero ever since he was a kid, and nothing’s ever going to change that.” 

His heart swells so tight he thinks it’s going to burst. You, in this moment, like you still care , that he’s not alone in this, and that he cares for you more than anything else in the world, loves you more than you will ever know. 

You do not need to say anything else, because there is a knock on the door⏤ pizza delivery , someone calls, and then the door opens; All Might in the flesh. The heroes⏤ and then you are scrambling for him, your fingers fumbling with the knots, but he simply jerks his hands apart, tearing the fabric, and reaches for yours. 

You still a little, surprised, flinching back a bit, but his heart is singing⏤ you care , he thinks, somewhat dumbly, like a mantra bouncing around inside his head. He barely registers the rest of it⏤ he emerges by the ruins of a building, your hand still in his, piloting the both of you around the villains who try to keep you. Shitty Hair, calling down at him from the fucking sky⏤ what the fuck? but then he’s calling for you, and then there is you: looping your arms around his neck, knowing, instinctively, what he means.

His chest warms like the sun, ethereal and glorious. 

You blast together into the night. His hand lands upon another one, similarly callused, and then he’s curling his other around you, latching you to him. Your head is settled in the crook of his neck, and you don’t protest it in the slightest, only untangling yourself once you land.

You don’t reach for his hand once you do, but that’s okay. His heart is singing. 

He snarls at the others in his usual manner, and you assert yourself with your own. He follows you as you walk, a step behind. The others leave you at the police station, their own parents plenty concerned, and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest⏤ he gets to walk you home, after all. 

You are silent as he does. He walks a step behind, and does not prod you. 

You stop. He does, too. Your hands ball up into fists. He watches, waiting. 

Finally, you whisper. “Why the hell’d you do it?” 

That is not at all what he’s expecting you to say.

“Hah?” He’s never been good with his words, always more combative than means. Particularly with you. Especially with you. “Cause I wanted to, dumbass. The hell do you want me to say?” 

You whip around and slug him instantly, punching him square in the gut. 

He barely bends from the force of it. You clutch your fist, teary and glaring. 

“Fuck you,” You hiss. “ Fuck you , Katsuki. You don’t just get to pretend like you care when you want to, whenever it suits you! You don’t get to⏤” 

He’s stunned into silence. He’s the one that’s pretending like he cares about you?

Your mouth opens and closes, so angry that you cannot quite find the words. “You don’t get to just fucking try and sacrifice yourself for me! What the fuck!” 

He steps closer, disbelief lighting a second sun in his chest.

You lash out. “Stay away from me!” 

He catches it in his hand, and you try to fucking headbutt him. He dodges that, too, and then he’s pulling you into him, as tight as his heart feels.

You stiffen. Frankly, he doesn’t give a shit, not when he’s figured out how you really feel. 

“I’m sorry,” He rasps into your ear. “I care for you. I’ve liked you since we were fucking six, and you shoved your stupid fucking sunflowers in my face. I was angry. I’m sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll have me.” 

You do not move. Do not breathe, and for all of a second, he thinks: this is it. 

And then, you crumple. 

He can count the number of times he’s seen you cry on one hand, but you weep into his shoulder now, a year’s worth of repressed emotions wrung out of you in an instant. You melt into him so perfectly he feels as if he was made for you, the weight of you so perfect and familiar in his arms. “You’re so fucking stupid ,” He thinks you are saying though it’s somewhat unintelligible, between your sobs and the way your voice is muffled from being pressed into his chest. 

He chuffs in your ear. “Feel free to add blind and ugly to the list, if you’d like.” 

You laugh, broken and teary, but then your arms rise, and you are wrapping them around him.

He thinks: it’s okay if the world ends right then and there, so long as he gets to hold you; just like this; just then and there; just for a moment longer. 

( He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How your face had lit up in absolute delight at the sound of his first sneeze, and how you’d stepped forward to thrust it further into his face, a wicked grin on yours all the while. How you lie your way into weekly dinners, and he’s furious , swearing he won’t talk to his parents for the whole of a month⏤ but then you’re there, in his room and making fun of his figurines.

You say, somewhat disinterestedly, that you think you remember a new All Might one on the market. He caves, and his vow lasts only a week. 

He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How he had always hated the sight of them before you; a young god faced with his one mortal weakness, but as time went on, he learned how he did not quite mind the look of them on you. He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile; soft and lovely under the candlelight, scared and shaking and terrified but still believing wholly in him, just as he does you. 

He thinks he has loved you since forever. )

Absent-mindedly, he presses his mouth to your hair.

And in the light of the dawn, pink-streaked and painting you awash in yellow, you look up at him, and you smile. 

Love the Chef

Crush AU | A short oneshot of the blonde trying to assassinate her through his cooking skills. And it somehow leading to a massive realization - thank god for noodles, laughs and sparks of love?

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, no manga spoilers, pure fluff, open ending, aged up to third years, realization moment, reader down bad fr, bkg a softie, silly moments, short oneshot, kdrama coded, mainly reader POV, 850 word count 

“Agh- how could you eat stuff like this?!”

She flinches as the spicy noodles hit the surface of her tongue. The seasoned aroma entering her lungs and creeping its way up.

Causing her eyes to water the more she chews yet this is only her third spoonful.

Y/N wanted to prove him wrong for once.

That she could handle the spice.

But her taste buds went against her wishes.

Immediately understanding she overestimated her own limits - she quickly taps out and pushes the bowl of noodles across the table.

Not wanting to be near that monstrosity he cooked up in the kitchen. He must be psychotic to eat such things, that dish could kill!

“Okay okay you win!” she says, practically sweating as her body begins reacting to the poison known as Bakugos noodles.

Who the hell could eat such spice and not react?!

Accepting her loss, she grabs the glass of milk that the blonde poured out for her earlier.

As if he knew she would lose.

Chugging the cold liquid with urgency, letting it sit in her mouth as a makeshift antidote for the stinging pain on her tongue.

If things couldn’t get worse, it somehow does, as she feels her nose grow runny.

The combination of the spice and her tears - leads to this tragedy of a look on her.

A disappointed pout on her face as she holds the glass that’s now half full.

She doesn’t dare look in his direction.

Not wanting to see the look of triumph on his face, that smug grin that annoys her to bits.

That is until she hears laughter.

A sound so unfamiliar that she peeks in his direction.

She can see the way he holds his stomach - his eyes squinting with delight.

Multiple chuckles exiting his mouth, finding the whole situation amusing.

In an instant, warmth completely overtakes her body.

And she doesn’t know if it’s from the spicy noodles or the sight of him.

She has never seen him laugh this hard till now and is frozen in place, not daring to look away from this bizarre turn of events.

“Hah! I told you idiot, as if you can beat me in a challenge of spice!”

He covers his mouth with his hand, stifling the laughs threatening to escape.

“Y-You look so stupid!” he looks away to not wheeze at the sight of her. The way simple noodles could have her on the verge of a breakdown was peak comedy to him.

She is unable to respond, her mind completely forgetting about the aches of pain on her tongue.

Her eyes fixated on the new sight before her - his enjoyment being the source of her fast heartbeat and heated face.

It was just the two of them in the dining hall of the UA dorms but that's all ruined as she hears the sound of the elevator doors open. Footsteps exiting as whoever it is, begins approaching the lobby.

Without much thinking, she grabs a plastic plate and shields the side profile of his face. Her body moving on pure instinct as if protecting something worth value.

She hides him from passersby who are too engrossed in their private conversations to notice the duo at the table.

And she feels an odd sense of relief.

“What the hell are you doing?” he mumbles, his brows furrowing with confusion, peeking over the plate to see their classmates leaving the building.

Spotting nothing out of the ordinary, he looks back at her with a calculating look. Expecting her to explain the odd reaction that came out of nowhere.

Wait what-

Realization dawns upon her and she can feel the rapid increase of suspense and her jitters.

Why did she do that?

Now embarrassed, she quickly lowers the plate, averting her gaze, “ah I just….”

Thoughts swirl around her mind for a moment but the conclusion remains the same.

She’s glad no one else saw his smile. For some reason, wanting to keep the sight to herself, to relish in this new experience.

Her eyes begin widening as she connects the dots.

Oh.

“Oi you good nerd?” he tilts his head, both eyeing her down and completely oblivious to her inner turmoil.

Her eyes land back on his face, the smile no longer present as he's back to his usual self.

At that moment... Y/N could only wish he’d start smiling again.

"I-I need to blow my nose!"

She practically jumps out of her seat, running to the kitchen, hands pressed against her face.

Heat radiating off her face so intensely that she wondered if she had caught a fever.

The only sensible answer to this whole thing was so simple but nonetheless sudden.

Feeling like a love struck fool, she leaves him ultimately dumbfounded.

Yet in his mind - he's already planning what to cook for her next, secretly enjoying the banter between them.

Assuming the reason for her unexplainable actions is simply from the food he prepared.

He stares at her from afar, the sight of her splashing cold water on her face, has him involuntarily forming a smile at her ridiculous actions.

"What an idiot."

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a/n ||| this small fic is inspired by a scene from the anime 'Sounds of Life' which I highly recommend. It's so underrated and I get sad everytime bc theres no S3! for u guys I included the exact scene below if ur curious (from s2 ep 2) and I love them so much omg. tags ||| @leleyro ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

On my never-ending mission to project Izuku onto Epic Odysseus