Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You're always so close to him. Almost too close for his liking, but he doesn't want you to leave. You talk too loud and you're so smart and too damn pretty. He doesn't like it; the feeling in his chest when you're near. His heart feels like it's pounding against his ribcage and he can hear everything, like right now, when you're giggling into your palm when Kaminari said something so stupid it's funny. A 'tch' escapes his mouth and he sticks his tongue in his cheek, and a tinge of jealousy erupts in his stomach because why the hell couldn't you laugh at his jokes? Not that he made any, but he's definitely going to start.

"Kaminari is such a moron sometimes," you mumble to him, a short burst of a chuckle ending your sentence. Your proximity alongside him is making him lose his damn mind. He can't hold your hand, he can't hold your waist. Your scent reaches his nose and it's a mix of vanilla and laundry detergent and it smells amazing. Shit, that's weird. All he can do is just manage a grunt as a reply, and look at the ground.

"Bakugo-kun, you alright?" You ask, now in front of him with a concerned look in your eyes. Out of the corner of his own, he can see Kirishima and Sero making kissing faces at him and laughing.

"I'm fine." His low voice is strained and instead of dealing with you and your stupid pretty face and nice perfume, he stalks off towards the two to shove their faces in the pavement.

He wasn't one to deal with his feelings well or in the right way; this was something he'd come to terms with and he was sure everyone else knew, too. Rather than outright telling you he liked you, he decided it'd be better if he shoved all his lovey-dumb feelings to the back of his mind and focus on training and school. The only problem with that, however, is that you were always on his mind no matter what task he was doing. What are you doing? How are you? Did you encounter a villain and if so, did you kick it's ass? He had a million questions in his brain, all roaming around and clouding up his conscious, but one stood out the most. Do you like me, too? 

Sitting at home and doing his homework was all he could think of as an excuse to not hang out with you, and your voice on the phone sounded pretty bleak after he denied. Hell, he could've just ignored the call, but because it was you, he felt somewhat of an obligation to answer. If it was anyone else, they would've been sent straight to voicemail. As much as he hated anything making you upset, he had to find out a way to make his feelings stop. This included cutting off all contact, exchanging short replies, and denying any advances you made to go and talk to him.

It's been three days since he last spoke to you, and his patience was running on a tight thread. You were one of his closest friends, how could he just ditch you like this? The more time passed by, the more he felt this was a bad idea. Kirishima even chased him down after school, asking why he'd been avoiding her and that she's been worried.

"That's not very manly, Bakugou," he scolds after a blunt explanation. "Women are very understanding, I'm sure if you-"

"Bakugou-kun, you jackass!"

A shout from a little ways up the sidewalk makes the pair freeze, and Bakugo considers making a run for it but he knows that'll make it worse. He realizes in the few seconds it takes for you to run to him that the whole reason for him evading you is fear of rejection. What if you didn't return his feelings? He sure as hell didn't want to be "just friends" with you, so if you couldn't be his girlfriend, he'd rather not have you at all. He couldn't handle it.

Kirishima is watching with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look as you shove your pointer finger into Bakugo's chest, with assertive and aggressive eyes so unlike you.

"You better have a damn good reason as to why you've been ignoring me."

This whole thing was just a mess to Bakugo. One whole shitty mess that's all his fault because his pride got in the way.

The spikey red-head gives an encouraging thumbs up to his friend before scattering off, probably to watch from a much safer distance. He scowls at him, his anger levels rising and now you're fuming and accusing him of something he actually did but didn't want to be called out for. So he's pissed.

"I've been busy."

"Bullshit."

If he's gonna say it, he should say it right. All that rehearsing in the mirror wasn't for nothing, god dammit.

"Shit, fine! Your stupid p-pretty smile annoys me and it makes me feel like-" he stumbles over his words, "like all weird and shit! Look, you did this to me and you made me do it!"

That didn't exactly come out the way he wanted it to, and guessing by your confused expression you didn't even understand it. Although he's hopelessly in denial, he's fully aware of what that 'weird' feeling is. It's just not in his vocabulary to say it out loud.

"I-" A loud groan follows, and he's clutching his head in frustration. "I like you, dammit!"

The next few seconds are killing him as he waits for a response, already mentally preparing himself for any type of rejection he might face. His arms are crossed and red eyes can't keep themselves off of your irritated face.

"That's it, you explosive jerk?! I can't believe you wasted all that time when we could've been going on dates and stuff. You're terrible!"

Bakugo really doesn't think he heard right, maybe it's his mind being incredibly convincing. But when your arms wrap around his neck, he stumbles back and his instinct is to push you away yet he doesn't want to. Your chest is pressed against his and it makes his cheeks flare up. All he can do is stand there like a giant awkward idiot.

"Dates..?"

"Yeah," you pull away, with that same disgustingly cute grin, "You know, spend time together? Hanging out?"

Kirishima and Sero can be heard snickering by the bushes. "Seriously, Bakugou you're so dense!"

"Shut the hell up, you shitty extras!"

So, what now? He'd confessed, you gave him a somewhat direct response, and even so, he didn't think he'd get this far. What was the proper protocol here? 

"Walk me home?" Your voice was sweet and there was no way in hell he could say no, so he nods and follows your skipping footsteps, but not without one last glare towards his idiot classmates.

The journey, for the most part, was quiet on his end, with you mumbling about your day and him offering a hum every now and then. Bakugou wanted nothing more than to hold your hand, but settled on shoving his hands in his pockets. If you two were dating now, shouldn't he be able to do that with no problem? He didn't even know.

"Hold on a damn minute," he interrupts your monologue, stopping a few steps short of you. "Are we together or what?"

You send him a perplexed look before rolling your eyes, a small, sympathetic smile on your lips as if you were silently mocking him for not understanding right away. 

"Wow, nothing gets past you, eh?" 

"Hah?!"

Chapter Text

During class time, rather than focusing on the lecture, all his attention was on you. He knew it was important for his grades to be high, being in a competition with Kaminari for the most consecutive A's on exams and all, but he couldn't keep his eyes from drifting off the board to you. You were slouched over, pen in hand and scribbling notes, and despite the view being half of your face, it was enough for him to admire the slope of your nose and the curve of your lips. A smile played on his own, his thoughts picturing and imagining the feeling of kissing you. She looks like the type of girl to like Muji products, he thinks, that'd be a nice gift. 

A pointy object was felt on the side of his head a few moments later, and while whipping his head around to the culprit who poked the pencil at him, he rubs his neck. Sero was stiffling a laugh as the professor scanned the room before continuing, a glare unlike his usual bored and somewhat pained expression painting his features. Giving one last glance at you, he stubbornly paid attention for the rest of class, encouraging himself to finally talk to you afterwards.

"Seriously, Kirishima? I didn't know you had a little crush!" Sero slaps his shoulder, bursting into a teasing chuckle.

"Hey, not too loud!"

He spies you packing your notebooks into your backpack off to the side, conversing with Yaoyoruzu and grinning.

"I have to get home so I can change before work, but I can text you the notes later!" You smile gladly. Kirishima's stomach erupted in butterflies.

"Thank you! Have a good evening." 

Mineta must have followed the two boys' line of sight, because he began nudging the red-head, eyes shining. 

"Ahh, girl talk is so cute, right?"

"Don't touch me." Leaving his friend and the other nuisance behind, he hurried after you, shouting your name until you stopped and turned at the stairwell.

All of a sudden he was nervous. It wasn't like he's never talked to girls before, he's just never spoken to one he liked so much. Your quirk was unique and strong, something he admired greatly and praised you for to his friends, and you were cute and so smart. You were practically out of his league and he never mustered up the courage to talk to you about the most basic things like homework. The most interaction he had with you was when you both were placed in a group of four to work on a presentation. Even then, he was a gushing mess.

"Oh, Kirishima-kun!"

It was obvious that you were surprised by your tone and raised eyebrows, and that increased his anxiety and made his cheeks flush when you said his name.

"Hey, (Name)-chan!" He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit. "Do you mind tutoring me after class sometime? You see, I'm having a lot of trouble with English, and I need someone to double-check my essay before I turn it in."

Wow, I hope that sounded convincing. English was the only subject he was doing exceptional in. 

"Ah, I already offered to help out Kaminari-kun. You can join us if you want to, though! We were planning on meeting this Friday."

He felt his heart sink to his stomach, ready to apologize and excuse himself, until you smiled brightly after a few moments of studying his reaction. You probably saw his disappointed face and took pity on him.

"If you needed it done soon, I get off at 9 if you wanna come over to the coffee shop I work at. It's pretty close by," you offer. Man, you were so kind to everyone. Even Bakugou, who took your compassion and shoved it out the window.

"Yeah, that'd be great. I'll see you there."

"Don't keep me waiting," you send him what he interpreted as a flirtatious smirk, the curve of your lips revealing pearly white teeth that disappeared as you descended down the stairs, tossing your scarf over your shoulder and adjusting your bag.

That night, he arrived a couple minutes early just for good measure. Ruffling his hair to get rid of any excess snow that might have got stuck on the sharp edges, the bell of the glass door alerting you of his presence. As soon as you laid eyes on him, you smiled gracefully and skipped over to the opened bar, leaning down and holding your arms together across your torso for comfort. 

"Would you like anything, Kirishima-kun? I don't mind!" 

"It's pretty late for coffee, isn't it?" He chuckles, removing his fleece-lined jacket. "How do you sleep at night?"

"I usually stay up late to study, but anyway, we have non-caffeinated options! Like our hot chocolate," you suggest, jutting your thumb to motion to the steaming pot on the stove. "It's a family recipe. Pretty good, if I say so myself."

"I'll take your word for it. How much?"

You hum, tapping your fingers on the counter while pouring the hot beverage, contemplating for a few moments and looking around for anyone who might hear. It was just you both in the shop, so you decide promptly. "Don't worry about it."

He can't stop his red eyes from traveling down your body, thinking how nice your ass looks in those tight khaki pants with your black apron accentuating your waistline. 

"Be careful, Kiri, it's hot." I'll say. 

He pulls out his laptop from his bag, and waits for it to load while you untie your apron and hang it on an anchor that sits on the wall, sighing in relief as you clock out. 

"What's your essay over?" Your inquiring eyes glance at his screen before watching him click and tap, searching for his completed essay in his saved files. His crimson eyes scatter around anxiously and laughs, almost embarrassed.

"Oh, man. Don't judge me, alright?" You nod. "I chose a topic about violence in video games and if it's beneficial or damaging."

"Sounds interesting. What's your verdict?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

Kirishima tilts the computer in your direction. Your eyes swipe left to right as you read, paragraph by paragraph. It was all thoroughly researched and with designated citations. His grammar and spelling was correct, and there was not one error you came across, and he wondered whether or not you knew that it was a guise to just spend time with you outside of class. He knew very well there were no mistakes and it was bound for you to find out as well.

"Well, Kiri, I'm kinda disappointed. I don't see anything I need to correct or go over and I was hoping to spend more time with you," you pout. He sputters out his drink while his heart is hammering against his sternum and his face flushes a peachy hue; he can't believe it. He stutters over his words and you sit there waiting, batting your eyelashes with just a sliver of a smile on your lips.

"Do you wanna go to the movies this weekend? I'm off," you ask sweetly, with honey practically dripping off of your words.

"I'd love to," he grins, sharp teeth making their appearance and he leans into your pretty face, pecking your cheek before realizing what he's done. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Soft and warm lips crash on his own, and he gravitates towards you immediately, savoring the feeling before it's gone. "You taste like hot chocolate," you giggle, swiping your tongue across your teeth. He shuts off his laptop and looks at you with half-lidded eyes, his brain filling with endorphins and a bunch of wild feelings and thoughts all at once. 

"You want another taste?"

Chapter Text

In case nobody else noticed, Midoriya was very insecure. With his quirk, his abilities, his talents. He wasn’t a very boisterous person, nor one to show off, and when it came to his friends, he had a select few he actually felt somewhat confident around. Ochaco being one, Kirishima and Shouto being two, and you. The only difference is, you were the only one who held his hand and kissed him on the forehead when he did a good job. To say he loved the praise and adoration from you was an understatement.

He got an A on an exam? A kiss on the lips. He fought off an evil villain by himself? A giant, chest-pressing-against-his-own hug. Though his cheeks blushed like hell, he gladly accepted it and he never once felt uncomfortable. You were his safe haven, and he would always run towards you when he needed to. Not once did you talk down on him, or make taunting jokes like some of the others. You were his anchor, in a way.

Because of your constant support, he felt like he could move mountains, change lives, be the next All Might. Nothing could stunt his confidence.

So then why did he see his world crash and burn when he spotted you kissing Bakugo on the cheek? He thought he was the special one to deserve such a privilege. It was him who earned all of your affection- he was the one you liked most.

Number one, he felt deflated. His ego was shot and drained within seconds. Number two, he never had the urge to fight his childhood friend more than now. Bakugo didn’t even appreciate it! He wiped it off with his sleeve as you giggled behind your hand.

When you made eye contact with him, and smiled so radiantly as you ran over to him, he felt betrayed. Was he your second choice? Was this some kind of prank?

“Midoriya-kun!”

He didn’t know what to say. One minute, he’s on top of the world, and the next, he’s back on ground zero. He might as well be below sea level. The bottom of the ocean, if you will.

“Wha-”

When you kissed him on the mouth, stopping him mid-sentence, all his anger diminished and his heart swelled up like a balloon. Oh, the effect you had on him.

No, no, no. This isn’t right.

Reluctantly, he pushed you back gently. Eyebrows furrowed together and you tilted your head in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why were you kissing…,” his green eyes settled on Bakugo’s shadowed figure against the tree, “him?”

“Just a little persuasion tactic I like to use. He threatened to tell Aizawa-sensei I was cheating off of Tsuyu's test today, which I wasn't. I mean, she sits three chairs behind me," you chuckled and rolled your eyes with disbelief. “Why? Are you jealous?”

No hesitation. “Yes.”

You brought your arms around his neck and automatically his hands fell to the small of your back, bringing you closer.

“Don’t worry, you know I only like you.”

He blushed. “Do you do that to other guys?”

“A couple others. It’s completely harmless, Midoriya-kun. Except with you, that's different. I thought you would be able to tell..." 

For the first time since you both met, you were timid. You, Y/N, timid  because of him.  He fought the thumping in his chest, and the disappointment subsided. He shouldn’t be upset, you weren’t together. There was no label, but it was about damn time that there was.

“If you were my girlfriend, would you still do it?”

You shook your head, “Of course not.”

He gulped. If it didn’t happen now, he probably won’t have the courage later.

“Then... will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’d be really stupid if I didn’t say yes, right?”

“N-no…well, yes...a-and no…I don’t know.”

A laugh escaped your lips, and he watched with a dry mouth as you leaned up to french him. He must say, he’s had a lot of practice in the kissing department thanks to you.

“Good thing I’m not.”

Chapter Text

This was probably the third time Kirishima has caught you crying this week, not counting the times you cried while he’d been gone for hero work. He didn't witness it, but it was clear that it happened. It was heartbreaking, and it made him want to cry with you, but he shut all his emotions off besides that compassionate and understanding part of his brain for your sake. You needed a rock along with someone to tell you that things would get better, and he fit that role perfectly.

Sure, it got a little tiring to hear you repeat the same things: how you can’t stop thinking about him, how you miss him, how you were hurt. He would never tell you that, though. After all, he’s only been in love with you for years, just to see you get hurt again and again, guy after guy. He’d gotten used to it at this point. He wanted so badly to tell you that he would be different, that he would never hurt you, and that you mean everything to him.  

He gently knocks on the bedroom door before poking his head in, not waiting for an answer.

“Guess who's back from being a super badass hero?!"

He doesn’t bother to ask how you’re feeling. Clearly you weren't feeling the best with your body curled up in a ball, while shuddering. He notices that you’re wearing his t-shirt, probably stained with tears, but he doesn’t care. At least you’re making yourself at home and raiding his closet. 

"Hey, thanks for interrupting my afternoon crying session. Care to join me?"

Ah, there's one of those sarcastic and sassy remarks he's missed so much, only the crack in your voice makes his heart pang with sadness. You see him eyeing your apparel when you lift your head from the pillow, and wipe your face carelessly.

“Sorry for stealing it, I just missed you while you were gone.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You wear that shirt better than I do."

And there he goes, feeling guilty for leaving you in this fragile state for work. To be fair, he was the one to suggest that you stay at his apartment while you look for another place to live. He wanted to flat out ask you to move in with him, being that you’re best friends and all, but he was afraid that would be too forward. 

“Have you eaten?”

You shake your head, the half-assed bun on your head flopping to one side. He’s still amazed how even though you look like a train wreck, you still look adorable. From his old band t-shirt, to your pineapple socks.

“Get dressed then. I’m taking you out for some good food and a good time!”

“Eiji-kun, I’m really not hungry,” you sigh. “How about I rant about how much my life sucks, and you hold me? That sounds fun.”

“That’s good that you still have your cute sense of humor! But let’s eat now, cuddle later!”

With that said, he walks into the living room to wait for you to get ready.

It takes you a solid thirty minutes to drag yourself out of bed. Those comfortable sheets and that soft mattress are calling your name, but you tell yourself to do it for Kirishima. The poor guy had been dealing with your depressing self ever since your ex-boyfriend had cheated on you- two months ago. Your best friend was the first person you called, and you’ve been attached at the hip ever since. At least the crying episodes were occurring less and less often; today was just a rough day. The sick bastard didn’t deserve you; Kirishima made that clear from day one. He was like a dog in a way, somehow always knowing to separate the good guys from the bad eggs.

You put on the first pair of jeans you see, begrudgingly throw on a bra, and a clean t-shirt because, let’s face it. You’ve been wearing that band tee for at least three days now. Kirishima takes you to a cute little cafe that serves really good deli sandwiches and iced coffees- your favorite. It’s decorated with cute little heart wallpaper, dimmed red lighting, and there’s a white cat that sometimes creeps up to meow for some turkey. 

“I’m a little scared to ask this, but how’re you feeling?”

“Better,” you nod. Short, clipped responses are sort of your thing for when you're in a self-deprecating mood.

He wasn’t having it. “Really, Y/N? Come on, I’ve been gone for three days and that’s all you have to say?”

“My life hasn’t been that eventful, you know. Not all of us are full-time heroes.”

“Well, that’s true. If everyone was, I’d probably be out of a job,” he says thoughtfully. “But I’d love it if we were partners. It'd be pretty awesome to help you kick an evil dude’s ass.”

That makes you laugh, and he congratulates himself with an imaginary pat on the back and flashes his pointy teeth at you in a lopsided smile.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to be a distraction for you, or have you baby-sit me for that matter.”

“Hey, you’re a strong woman on your own! I don’t need to baby-sit you. Although, I can’t say you won’t be a distraction,” he clenches his fist with mock tears in his eyes. “I’ve always loved a beautiful woman in battle.”

You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow, “You’re starting to sound like Mineta.”

“You know what I mean! Besides, I’m not like that perverted freak. I only have heart eyes for you.”

That sharp-toothed smile could probably cause peace on Earth.

“How cheesy.”

He doesn’t mistake your blush for embarrassment. He knows very well that you’ve been crushing on him for just as long as he has, you're just better at suppressing it more than him. If you weren’t feeling so down, you would’ve made an equally flirtatious comment right back at him. If only the circumstances were different, then and only then, would he confess. You obviously need more time to heal, but he didn’t want to wait too long. Some other guy could swoop in like the other two times and keep you hostage for another year or so.

Nah, screw that shit. It’s now or never, man.

“So.”

“So,” you smile, taking a sip of your tea.

He clears his throat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something...for, well, since we first met back in U.A..”

“Sure, go ahead.” 

“I-I mean, you know I think you’re amazing. You’re beautiful and smart, sweet and funny. You’re my best friend.”

“Thanks, Eiji-kun,” you beam. Well, at least you’re feeling better and now he's a mess. 

“B-but the thing is... I don’t want to be your best friend anymore.”

He can see the light disappear from your eyes completely, and the anticipating grin you had is now a frown, and you sniffle and look down at your lap.

“I figured. I knew I was annoying you with my stupid boyfriend drama. Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I wouldn't have moved in with you.”

“Wait, what?!”

“I’ll just go live back with my parents-”

“No! No, no, no! That’s not what I meant! I love that you’re staying with me." He had no problem casually throwing compliments at you left and right, but confessing your love for someone is a completely different ballpark, and one could say that he wasn't particularly skilled in that department. 

“Oh. So you're not tired of me?"

“Hell no," he waves his hands rapidly, until finally calming his breathing and heaving a sigh. "Y/N, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

You look up from twiddling your thumbs, mouth agape and dry. He just dropped a huge bomb and if it crumbles your friendship, though he doubts it will, then so be it. 

“I know you’re not ready for a relationship right now, and you’re still upset, but I’m sick of seeing you end up hurt by every guy you’ve dated. They don’t deserve you, and I know I don’t either, but you know what kind of guy I am."

You rub your arm shyly, and blink up at him. “I don’t want things between us to get ruined. I like what we have, and I'm happy." Bullshit.

He furrows his brows, and for the first time in a while he's genuinely frustrated with you. “You can't expect me to believe that. Are you really lying to yourself right now?"

“No, I’m being realistic," you say defensively. "What happens if we break up? Then I’ll lose my best friend and a lover at once. That's a double whammy of pain and suffering."

“Look at it from an optimistic view. You know me better than anyone. Why do you think I’d ever hurt you like those guys did?”

You rest your head on your hand, a defeated look painting your features. “Ugh, why are you right about everything?”

It’s a struggle to fight the urge to gloat, but he manages. Five minutes pass while you continue to pick at your sandwich, coming to a conclusion, and Kirishima finishes his third with a satisfied grin as you watch the people pass by through the window.

“I’m gonna tell you this one time, and one time only, Eiji-kun.”

You point your finger at him dramatically, narrow your eyes as an attempt to be menacing. Kirishima stifled a laugh; seeing you try to be scary and threatening is a cute look on you.

“Don’t screw this up. I will never forgive you.”

“Does that mean you’re giving me a chance?!”

He grabs your hands from across the table and clutches them tightly, praying to the heavens that this isn’t an illusion.

You sigh, a hopeful smirk appearing, “Yeah, let's give us a try."

This is the best day of his damn life. Well, besides the day he got promoted to a professional hero. After he pays, you both walk onto the half-empty street and begin the journey to his apartment, smiling all the way and holding your hand.

“I dreamed of this day, you know. Only in my dream, I saved you from this evil villain and totally kicked his ass to smithereens, and you kissed me as a thanks. It was a pretty good dream.”

You giggle, and with your free hand you bring his bicep to your cheek as you clutch onto him. He never got over the fact that while you stayed the same height, he shot up like a rocket. You’ve told him before that his stature was perfect for spooning and his girlfriend must have been lucky. Funnily enough, he only agreed because claiming he had a girlfriend sounded a lot better than “I’m single because I’m waiting for you to realize that I’m the love of your life”. Looking back on it, did he really spend 7 years of his life waiting for you?

“I’ll tell you what. When we get back home, I’ll kiss you for saving me from my evil ex-boyfriend.” You press your lips to his arm and he can feel your cheek heat up against his skin. 

Yes, he did, and it was a long ass 7 years, but you were worth it.

Chapter Text

He still sees you around campus since the breakup. While he has his arm around another girl, he’s busy looking at you and watching as you chat with another guy, completely oblivious to his gaze and it makes his blood boil. His current fling’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he abruptly turns his head towards her when he catches his name.

“What do you think, Denki-kun?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

She raises an eyebrow, “You weren’t even listening. I asked if I should dye my hair back to black.” She twirls a pink strand of hair around her finger, and follows his eyes to your direction on the park bench, chatting with Monoma.

“I can make you forget about her, you know,” she winks.

“Sorry,” he stands up, and pops up the collar of his jacket. “I can’t do this anymore.”

"What?!"

It’s been a solid four months since the breakup. Four long months that he spent with other girls to ease the heartbreak, only to get right back to square one when he sees that you’re moving on. You look so happy when he sees you, which is quite rare when he does, and it kills him to know that you’re not in his life anymore. Everyday you would text, even it was just to share some random memes, and you would show up at his dorm and watch Netflix on his tiny twin size bed. You were his best friend before his girlfriend, and now whatever relationship you two shared was gone like it never existed.

This was the first time he’s seen you with someone else, and he feels his heart pound against his chest. The way this guy touches you, and looks at you, is the same way he did. So when he walks up to the bench that you’re both sitting at, he freezes. It felt like his feet moved on their own. He wasn’t ready no matter how much he wanted to say, no matter how much he thought he moved on.

The guy looks up at him with an irritated frown, “Can I help you? We’re busy.”

That was a jab to his stomach, and suddenly a wave of nausea washes over him, but he avoids Monoma's scowl.

“Hi, Y/N-chan.” He sees a blush scatter your cheeks, but you have no trouble meeting his eyes with a glare. “Can I talk to you?”

“Oh, so you left your little girlfriend for me? I’m flattered,” you roll your eyes. Kaminari should have expected this, but at least he tried.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he sighs, putting his hand to his forehead. “Can we please just talk?”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?”

He’s at a loss for words, and he shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “I’ll see you around, then.”

Actually, he had a lot to say to you, one being that he missed you. All of the girls that he’s casually dated and had flings with, just to get his mind off of you, could never compare. No matter how hard he’s tried to forget, it’s difficult.
You cross your arms and as he walks away out of earshot, you huff and throw on your backpack.

“Sorry, Monoma. I gotta go study.”

“But we were just-”

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow!” Your words jumbled together, not bothering to cast your classmate a glance as you jog to catch up with Kaminari, yanking his hand along with you, heading towards the direction of your dorm.

 “Alright, you got five minutes. I really have to study.”

Hopping onto your twin sized bed, hands behind you for support, you send him an expectant look. He’s nervous; he hasn’t been alone with you since that day. The room is extremely limited as well, and he blushed like a madman when you held his hand all the way till the door. He brushed it off as a habit and didn’t want to have hope that maybe you still have some lingering feelings. Though they do say it takes a month to break a habit.

“Kaminari-kun?”

The way you say his name, slightly annoyed and breathy, makes him squirm inside. In spite of the awkward circumstances, he lunges forward and kisses you on the lips. To his surprise, you don’t push him away, but kiss back fervently, moving your mouth against his. Your small hands grab hold of the sides of his face and you pull him towards you, until his body is on hovering top of yours. His hands move under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin; he’s missed your touch.

A throat clears from behind, along with the shutting of a door.

“Thank god,” your roommate yawns, throwing her book bag on the floor. “I got tired of hearing your ass talk about him all the time.”

“Hey! Shut up!” You glare, and once again your cheeks flush and Kaminari is stuck smiling like a complete goofball.

“You’ve been talking about me?”

You roll your eyes, “Not all of them are good things…”

“Oh, please,” she laughs. “Anyway, sorry to cut your little session short, but we got a game of Overwatch waiting for us.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then.”

With one last look at you, pressing his lips once more to your forehead and lips, he grabs his backpack off the desk. Funny how yesterday, he was with another girl who he imagined to be another version of you. As shitty as it sounds, nobody made him feel the way you did, and he’s spent the last few months coming up with as many distractions and hobbies as possible just to find someone or something who could, just to give him that sense that you’re not completely gone. Just random girls who could fill the void.

“Can I call you later, Y/N-chan?” He asks hesitantly. You nod, cheeks red and you’re smoothing down your hair before putting on the headset.

“Of course. Not too late, though.”

He smiles once more, and he closes the door behind him before hearing your voice again, “Aw, shit! I forgot I have to study!” Followed by, “Too bad! You promised me one last game!”

Chuckling, he starts the journey back to his own dorm, a lot happier and relieved to know that there’s still that chance of having you again.

Chapter Text

He’s been desperate before.

Desperate to become a hero, to become someone people look up to. Desperate to forget about his father, to reconcile with his mother. Those, however, were different types of desperation. Those types made him a better person, and helped him figure out who he is. They made him determined to improve as an individual.

This situation with you was in a different realm of desperation. He wasn’t familiar with it at all, and it irked him. He wanted to know why he felt this way, for one, and he was curious about you the more time he spent with you. He begins sitting next to you in class, and starts asking you for a pencil or a pen. A sheet of paper. Your phone number.

You give him a small smile when he asks, and his heart beats a little faster until you nod and pass him a note with the digits scrawled on in pink ink, and although his face remains aloof, he can’t stop the blush forming on his cheeks and the glimmer in his heterochromatic eyes with each passing second.

A few months passed, and a new type of desperation formed. He wanted to kiss you all the time, and hold your hand. He wanted to feel your skin on his constantly. To feel your body wrap around his as you lay together, with you sleeping soundly against his chest as he rubs circles on your back. He feels at home. Serene.

A year has passed. You both become professional heroes, something he’s yearned for since he was little. Though he suppresses his father’s side, you’ve helped him realize that it will always be a part of him but it doesn’t change who he is. It doesn’t represent him. He’s learned a lot about you in the time you have spent together, and he fights the urge to recoil into himself and push you away. He doesn’t deserve a person like you. He’s been in an argument with himself the whole time. When you smile at him, he feels guilty. Though he has nothing to hide, he’s been in denial that he has anything to offer you in the way that you provide to him. Your overwhelming support, encouragement, and affection have shaped him into a young man that can face whatever the world throws at him, and he will always be grateful, but he doesn’t deserve it.

“Todoroki-kun,” you speak up, pressing your lips to his cheek. Your legs are tangled with his as you lay in bed together, the crickets of summertime singing in the grass outside. The fan blowing cool air into the room. “You’ve been quiet. What’s wrong?”

He’s been known to be nonchalant about his feelings. He doesn’t feel the need to talk about them. Around you, though, he’s become an open book, even without him ever opening his mouth. You can tell in an instant what he’s feeling.

“I’m worried.”

A short, clipped answer that he hopes he doesn’t have to explain, but he knows you better than that.

“What about?”

He peers down at you, your eyes blinking up at him patiently. He swipes a strand of hair out of your face and sighs.

“I think I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s said it, and the first time you both have ever spoken about topics revolving around love. At the beginning, he thought you were scared of it. He was, too. It’s a word that’s taboo, in a sense, and it can lose meaning quickly if it’s thrown around too much. Love can be lost, or never felt, by one party or both, and it scares him.

“I love you, too.”

He feels your lips against his for a moment, and he’s reaching for them again, holding your cheek with his palm.

“Do you mean it?” He asks, his eyes roaming your face for any signs of deception, but there’s nothing there. Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing that tells him he doesn’t deserves it.

“Of course.”

He believes you, and hopes it isn’t a mistake.

Chapter Text

Ice cream is probably one of the very few things that gets Bakugo in a good mood. Not happy, but not angry either. Content, especially if you’re with him. His favorite is chocolate, and he had duly noted that yours is strawberry. Walking down a long paved road from the small shop you bought them from, multiple kids around your age were wondering around. Some couples, and some groups of friends. Summer nights can be considered one of your favorite sceneries. Fireflies, cicadas, and the shadows of the sun poking up behind the hilltops. The warm air when night time begins to settle. You peek over at Bakugo, and it’s a rare sight to see him have a tiny glimmer of joy in his eyes as he licks the cone. One random boy, a little older, began smiling in your direction, and took your polite nod as an invitation to walk over. Narrowing his eyes, Bakugo instinctively put his hand on the small of your back, and stepped in front of you.

The boy stopped short, holding his hands up defensively. “Hey, man, I was just trying to talk to-”

“She’s not interested.”

“Is she mute? I think she can speak for herself,” he winks at you. “Wanna go out sometime?”

Tapping Bakugo on the shoulder, you frown at him, “He’s right, you know.”

“Big brothers can be a pain, I get it,” the boy laughs.

“Oh,” you furrow your brows and shake your head, “he’s not my brother.”

“Try boyfriend ,” Bakugo grumbles, throwing an arm around you. “Now get lost , freak!”

The boy scurries off, with Bakugo glaring after him. Your eyes widen in surprise as he removes his arm from your shoulder and grabs your hand, pulling you along as you attempt to process what happened.

Your hand was soft, and compared to his own, much smaller. You walked close to his side, and he occasionally threw a sideways glance your way to see you smiling happily, even though you weren’t doing anything mildly entertaining.

“What’re you so damn happy about?” He scowls. Not that he didn’t like seeing you happy, it’s just that he knew you were going to say something about it. He could see it in that smug little smirk.

“Wow,” you roll your eyes, “Can’t a girl just be eating her ice cream in peace?”
He manages a short grunt and a few minutes pass, and he thought he could continue his day as his usual disgruntled self. Of course, you wouldn’t have that.

“So you’re my boyfriend now?” You giggle into his shoulder, and although he thought that was pretty cute, he was still a bit ticked off. Yes, he should’ve chosen his words properly, but it was either that, or letting that weird kid bother you even more. Actually, maybe he just didn’t want you to accept that guy’s offer. But even though you two spend all your time together, you text each other on a daily basis, and kiss every now and then, doesn’t mean you’re actually a couple, right?

He stays silent, lost in the complicated formula of your relationship, and all you do is press your lips to his cheek, just long enough to watch the blush arise. He doesn’t push you away, even though he clenches his jaw.

“I’m not complaining, though. Thank you, Katsuki.”

“Shut up.” A few moments pass. “Give me another kiss.”

Chapter Text

Rainy days were always a favorite of yours. Even if thunder was crackling and lightning filled the sky, you looked up at it with interest and a calming warmth helps you relax. It was just your luck that your mom decided to move to San Augustine, a sunny city in California with scorching summers and beaches with tons of people occupying it every day, rain or shine. It was also pretty lucky that you got your own personal babysitter who never so much as gave you the time of day. You never even knew how you managed to get stuck with him, your mother just explained that he was the son of an old family friend.  If he was anything like the blonde, you didn't want to meet him. With a custard-filled pastry and a scalding coffee, extra cream and little sugar to balance it out, you sit at the coffee shop by the windows that surrounded the whole cafe. You watched passerbys come and go as you stirred your drink, before pulling out a paperback of your favorite novel. You were always intrigued by the unknown, whether it be the universe, time travel, and fictional beings. Tired of romantic stories and fairy tale endings, you sought out more dark and compelling themes. You flipped through to find your marker: a little fold in the top right corner, and continued where you left off.

“Stephen King, huh?” A perky voice made you jump in your seat. Jesus, this guy couldn’t see you were busy? You meet his eyes, a gorgeous emerald that sparkled as he blinked down at you, a soft smile on his rose-colored lips. Dressed in black jeans, and a grey tee, he looked pretty average, but still beautiful regardless. Pale skin decorated with freckles across his cheeks, he looks oddly innocent. He ruffled his shaggy seaweed-colored hair and took it upon himself to take a seat opposite you.

“I’d say that one’s a bit more accurate,” he leans back in his chair, using his chin to motion towards your novel, Salem’s Lot. “I’m surprised to see a woman reading decent literature for once."

“What is that supposed to mean?” You frown, crossing your arms defensively. You were positive he was referring to Twilight, which you enjoyed ironically since it first debuted, reading it every once in a while for a good laugh. For someone who dresses so casually, and looks so young, his vocabulary didn’t seem fitting. 

“It’s a compliment,” he grins eerily at you with a dry chuckle and it doesn’t meet his eyes. It sends an unnerving feeling down your spine but you can’t tear your eyes from his. He finally breaks his gaze to stare out the window, his lips curling into a smirk. There is no longer the sound of pitter-patter of rain on the glass, and you can imagine the smell outside. Nothing like the scent of freshly fallen rain on asphalt.

“It looks like the sun is coming out.”

You nod, still enthralled by his gorgeous face and blinking rapidly once he meets your stare again longingly. 

“I’ll see you around, doll.”

He lazily pulls himself out of the seat, digs his hands in his pockets and walks out with a longing glance back. Judging by the way he walked, it seemed like he had somewhere to be. You exhale as if you were holding your breath throughout that entire conversation. That was the first time anyone bothered to talk to you since you got to the city a few days ago. Maybe you were just invisible.

You finish up at the coffee shop, grab your bag and head towards home. You see multiple posters plastered on the brick walls of buildings, one in particular caught your eye: a band you’ve only heard of in passing was playing at the boardwalk by a beach close to your residence, and there was likely to be a crowd and drinks galore. You take a picture of it with your phone and you continue home.

“No fucking way am I going with you,” was the response you earned once you showed Bakugou the photo, turning his back to you while pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

“Come on, Katsuki! I’m sick of being stuck in this house, especially on a Friday night and I don’t wanna go alone.”

“Tough shit. I’m not going.”

“Fine,” you pout. “I’ll just go by myself.”

A few hours pass until you ready yourself to leave, and send a quick text to your mother who was out doing who knows what, drinking whatever, partying wherever. It’s amazing how quickly she’s got used to this town and made friends. Oh, God, even my own mother has more friends than me. When you reach the bottom of the staircase, you see Bakugou with his arms crossed, dressed in all black and a maroon zip-up jacket, leaning back on the wall by the front door.

“Oh, so you can go out with your little friends but not with me to a damn concert?” You scowl, walking right up to him and reach for your house keys.

“I’m going with you, as per your mother’s request,” he says bitterly, obviously irritated by having to be your bodyguard for the night. He shoves you towards the open door frame, into the night, and warns you, “Don’t be a fucking nuisance.”

It was a busy night, with people dancing and shaking their sweat everywhere, drunk and uncoordinated, and you were enjoying it. Completely sober, you let yourself sway to the beat while Bakugou was off on the sidelines, making it clear to you beforehand that he “didn’t dance”,  and you could see him keeping an eye on you as he sipped a glass of clear liquid. Whether it was straight vodka or water, you didn’t care. As long as he didn’t make you leave before midnight like a buzzkill.

Onto the next song, and you were waving your arms merrily, until a pair of hands grabbed your waist lightly, and you turned around to give the guy a piece of your mind, yet there was no one there. You search the crowd behind you, giving up a few seconds later and face the stage again.

“Hello again, angel eyes.” You can hear a seductive voice as clear as day over the music against your ear, making the hair stand up on your arms and that same uneasiness run down your legs. Those same emerald eyes that hypnotized you before were now a mixture of pine and juniper, dark and heavy, scanning your face before landing on your lips with greed.

“I knew we would meet again. It was fate,” he mumbles into your neck. You had no idea what this guy was insinuating, and you assumed he was intoxicated like everyone else, but his mouth on your pulse was making your cheeks burn. Has this guy never heard of personal space?

“You smell so,” he drawls out, his lower lip catching onto your skin, “sublime. ”

The vibration of the bass and the loudspeakers resonated in your ears, as his words became more breathy, and more of him talking to himself than to you. Vaguely, he speaks up loud enough for you to hear him say “savor”, “devour” and “pleasure”.

You can feel him sucking on your skin, but you can't find it in your heart to push him away. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. He has enchanted you, that you know for sure, and you like it, be it in an odd, unsettling way.

He unlatches his mouth from your neck and gazes down at you with a lazy smile, “Do you trust me?”

Hell no. “Yes.”

“Come with me, love.”

He takes hold of your hand, excitement and uncertainty travel through your blood, igniting a giddy feeling in your chest. What is it about this man, who makes you feel weightless, like you’re on a cloud? Ending up at sandy hill by the ocean beside the boardwalk, where the music isn’t as blaring and much less people, thoughts of Bakugou make you worry that you’ll be bothersome. Well, it was only a matter of time.

“You know,” he breathes, “I never quite got your name.” His eyes never leave your face as you find the strength to speak. Shit, how did he do this to you? He hasn’t even kissed you and yet you were a mess, like a little shy schoolgirl with a crush, but you knew nothing about this man. His body is pressed against yours as if it were the pull of gravity, like you were magnets, and electricity from his touch made your body light up like fireworks.

“(Y/N).”

“Pleasure to meet you, (Y/N)," he licks his lips, repeating your name a few more times as if seeing whether or not he likes the way it rolls off his tongue. "I’m Midoriya Izuku.”

He grabs your face with soft and gentle hands, and pulls you even closer to him. Your fingers find refuge in the empty belt loops of his pants that hang loosely on his hips, pulling his pelvis towards you.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he takes in a sharp breath when he feels your touch by his lower half, those juniper eyes flickering between your own and your mouth.

“What’s so special about me?” You wonder aloud, staring up at him like a confused baby deer and bewilderment.

“We were meant to be. It’s set in stone that I am yours, and you are mine.”

No idea what particular stone Midoriya was rapping about, but his words echoed in your mind like a prayer. I am yours, and you are mine.

“I don’t even know you.”

“Oh, but you do, beautiful (Y/N). You know every inch of me.” You gasp as he grabs your bottom, rubbing himself onto you and pressing his palms into the flesh. Your phone rings in your back pocket and Midoriya grabs it, and tosses it somewhere in the sand.

“Hey!-”

His lips mesh onto yours with such passion and desire that it makes your legs unsteady and weak, and your hands immediately seek out his hair, tugging on to his dark tendrils. He moans into your mouth, while your tongue caresses his, and he bites your lower lip. The pain makes your eyes shoot open and it stings, but then ecstasy takes over you. He sucks on the wound, and the lower half of your body pulsates with need.

“What the fuck is going on here?!" Buzzkill . Bakugou runs over to the bottom of the hill, and you can practically see the fumes escaping from his ears.

“Get the hell away from her, Deku.”

What is a Deku? Midoriya’s body and his warmth slithers out of your grasp, and he sauntered across to where your blonde, overbearing bodyguard was standing.

“I don’t think she wants me to. Why should I?” He tilts his head curiously.

“She doesn’t even know what’s going on in this city, let alone who you are.”

“What’s happening?” You glance between the two, wearing a frown.

“Not now, (Y/N),” Bakugou barks, and again you’re put on the sidelines. The way he is so quick to cast you to the backburner makes you agitated, as if you weren’t involved in this dilemma at all.

“You haven’t told her? Ahhh, my poor (Y/N) doesn’t even remember me. It’s been so long, hasn’t it, my love?” With long strides, he cups your chin in his hand and coos at you.

“Don’t fucking touch her, you bloodsucker! I’ll kill you with ease, you know that damn well!”

Bloodsucker? As in a vampire? Those don’t exist, they are only a mere fantasy. A figment of folktales and imagination. There is no way.

“Don’t look so surprised, dear,” Midoriya grins softly, “You knew it all along. Why else would you be so drawn to me?”

You’re frightened by the haunting look he gives you, but you can’t move. You stand with your head towards the ground, trying to be logical. Searching for facts.

“She doesn’t know you, Deku. Go back to your sacred coven or whatever the fuck, just leave her alone.”

“If only it were that easy,” he sighs, his face painted with desire and yearn towards you.

Before you can protest, Bakugou is already at his neck with a stake, and you were pushed away, ass planted in sand. Dumbfounded, you watch helplessly as they go back and forth, and something in your mind told you to run. Midoriya dodges like it’s taking no energy, while Bakugou looks like he’s running on batteries and the power is steadily depleting. So you run. You take off sprinting down the shoreline, away from the flashing neon lights of the boardwalk and away from the fight, wondering if your angry blonde friend will make it. You find a group of people by a stand of motorcycles, circling by a parking lot as they laugh and yell joyfully. They are dimly lit by a few light posts, and by your appearance they all smile and nudge each other.

“Well, look who it is!” One of them yells happily. His hair is a bright yellow and he’s wearing a leather jacket that matches the rest of the group. Is this a scene in Grease or what?
“Where have you been hiding, eh?” Another chimes in, taking a sip from his styrofoam cup.

You maintained your distance; you wish you weren’t alone. There was one lone girl in the group, one with short dark hair and headphones covering her ears, her hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket and watching them with annoyance.

“Can you guys control yourselves? Midoriya won’t be happy.” At her command, they all snicker to themselves and fall silent. They’re with him? Of course they are. Their personalities are mysterious, and hard to decipher, but you don’t feel like you’re in danger. Looking at their bikes, the moon illuminating the metal, you notice the decals on the sides, and some color here and there for a little personalized touch.

The one with the yellow hair smirks at you, leaning on what you assume is his bike with star and rose stickers, “You wanna take a ride?”

“Not really,” you retort, “This one seems a little too feminine, even for you.” You wave him off.

He scoffs while the rest of them begin cackling. “She’s spunky!”

“Don’t mind Kaminari,” the short haired girl starts, brushing past him and flashing you a smile. “I’m Jiro Kyoka.”

You look at the others expectantly, but none of them meet your stare. You begin to feel a hand grasp yours, and a sudden relief takes over you. Without even looking, you know it’s him. Despite meeting just today, you know his touch very well, as if knowing him for centuries.

“Where’s Bakugou?” You ask cautiously.

“Bakugou?!” “Bakugou was here?” “Figures he would be the one watching her!”

Midoriya’s gaze is gloaming as his eyes bore into yours, blinking adoringly down at you, “He won’t bother us anymore.”

“What did you do?!” The others begin to climb onto their bikes, the engines purring simultaneously. He leads you towards his own, and mounts the leather seat, patting the spot behind him.

“Relax, doll, he’s only knocked out. No real harm done.” You don’t move. He tosses his head back over his shoulder, just enough to make eye contact, “You coming?”

Please make a run for it. Don’t go with him. Your legs take the first steps involuntarily until you’re seated behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso, underneath the dark blue blazer and white tee. Feeling the soft skin beneath your cold fingertips, sensing his muscles superior to his stomach contracting underneath, makes your lips curve into a small grin.

“You can go lower, if you want,” he suggests.

“In your dreams, buddy.” A hearty laugh escapes him, and he uses his foot to lift up the kickstand, and takes off gradually, with the others following.

The clock on the wall showed 12:41 AM, and your sight was getting blind with sleep. 

You see Midoriya wrapping his palm with a bandage, and your face tightens with worry. Why should you care so much about a man you barely met?

“Can you explain to me what’s going on?” You plead with a choked voice. “Are you going to kill me?”

He faces you, concerned, at your question and pets your hair, trailing his hand down to your cheek. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“To make you remember, my love. You will, in due time.”

You sit up in your chair, “Listen, I don’t know who you think I am, but it’s not me.”

He chuckles, and it’s a light, airy sound that makes the whole room radiate. Why is he laughing? He doesn’t say anything else and returns to the task of wrapping his hand, so you take the opportunity to rummage around the room. At the mahogany dresser, there are papers and documents scattered on the top, and a few picture frames in a dim gold, holding black and white photos. You get a glimpse of a particular one that your inner conscious is yelling at you to pick up. It’s a scary thing to see a woman, dressed in a skirt past your knees and a long-sleeved blouse, with a beret covering long beautiful (h/c) hair, looking exactly like you. A man similar to Midoriya is standing behind you, but his figure is slightly faded and transparent. 

“Is this-?” Your breath hitches in your throat. Midoriya snakes his hands around your middle, pulls your hair to the side, and kisses your neck.

“That’s us, my dear. You still look as beautiful as you did that day.” 

“How old are you?! This isn’t normal in the fucking slightest!” You push his hands off of you and he finds himself in front of you, with a satisfied grin. “How is this possible?”

“Physically, I am 23 years old. I was born in 1952. As for how this is possible, you’ve heard Kacchan affectionately call me bloodsucker. Judging by your choice in books, I assume you’re no stranger to the term vampire. ” He swipes his tongue across his pearly white teeth, flashing them at you for a quick moment, obviously enjoying your mystified stupor. 

“Those don’t exist,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him, with your eyes on the floor in disbelief. Midoriya studies you carefully, his hand ruffling his hair again and puts his weight on one side of his body, one hand in his jean pocket.

“You were my maker, (Y/N), as well as my wife.” 

This couldn’t be true. Watching you closely, almost like a predator circling its prey, he continues, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I think it’s well past time for you to join me again, angel eyes. Come home with me.”

“Where is home, exactly?”

He is at your neck again, moving so fast that it made you dizzy, and he digs his nose into your hair, inhaling. He hums in appreciation and glances up at you once more, his eyes alluring and all you want to do is kiss him again. His lips are colored bright like berries in contrast to his light skin, and they’re delightfully plump and soft.

“The underworld, my dear. We’re creatures of the night.”

He takes hold of you in his arms, and like a remote is controlling you, your head lolls to the side; an enticing sight to him, indeed. Kissing, and sucking, and licking until he finds the right spot, the one that makes you sigh and bite your lip. You feel his teeth on you, and there isn’t an uneasy feeling in your stomach anymore. No subconscious nagging that you had to leave, to get away from this evil man. Piercing through the delicate skin of your neck, he drains you until blood is dripping down on to your shirt. He moans in bliss, with his eyes closed, savoring each drop until nothing is left.

Chapter Text

How could your parents do this to you? Sending you off to a foreign country to marry a man; a prince, nonetheless, with a sour attitude and a deathly glare. Though the wedding wasn’t official, it was merely a sort of scouting trip for the prince to pick out the best bride, but it still irked you to think about.

You never asked for this life. One with fancy dresses that were way too tight, and cocktail parties with snooty unknown people and a king for a father. You were just a business pawn on your father’s chess table, and that was the only reason you were going, and you hated it. It was a good exchange; you marry the prince of Aldora, and get exposure of your country and increase tourism, trade, and overall business. It sounded good on paper, but when it came down to it, you couldn’t stand the idea of marrying for business. Marriage was supposed to be this fairy tale, where you find your true love and it’s romantic and sweet, but your father snatched that dream right from you, and you’ve been bitter about the idea ever since you blossomed into a young woman.

There wasn’t anything romantic about Bakugou, in fact, you weren’t even sure he had a kind bone in his body. You sit there at one of the elegant tables, sipping on your glass of champagne, eyeing everyone around you. Talking, gossiping, and you were the odd one out. A few girls tried to start a conversation, but it became obvious very quickly that you didn’t want to be bothered. You felt eyes burning into the back of your skull, analyzing your every move and it infuriated you, and it was only a matter of time before one of his Royal Associates sought you out in the sea of women awaiting selection, and you dragged your feet as they led the way. Albeit never meeting him, you’ve seen interviews and coronations and ceremonies, and in all circumstances he wore a permanent scowl, seeming uninterested and pissed off. How could so many women see this man as anything other than a pain in the ass?

As you make your way through the tall corridor, the tall ceiling lined with gold swirls and artwork, you reach a large room with a deep purple rug and gold trimmings, leading to his highness. The floors were made of black and white marble, the walls holding cases of sculptures and candles.

He stares at you with crimson eyes, studying your face with a satisfied smirk, it makes your whole being shudder.

“Princess (Y/N) (L/N),” he taps one hand on the arm of his lush chair, the other holding his cheek as he leans into it, looking unreadable and mysterious, not even going through the trouble of taking your hand and placing a kiss atop, like everyone else seems to do.

“Prince Bakugou Katsuki, it is a pleasure,” you bow with gritted teeth. You disgust yourself, but do this for father. Act like the pawn.

“I’m going to be very straightforward with you, is that alright?” He pushes himself out of his chair, his shoes scaling the marble before stopping a few feet short of you. “You intrigue me, and I’m interested.”

“Wish I could say the same,” you mutter, pressing your lips together once you realize what you’ve said. He barks a laugh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Say again?” His cardinal eyes boring into yours, a challenging tone hidden beneath his words. You exhale heavily, meeting his stare with a hardened look of your own, quirking an eyebrow, before turning away with a proud "humph".

“Very brave words coming from someone whose country isn’t even on the map. I think some would consider this a favor, you know,” he snickers, waving his hand towards his guards in a dismissive manner: “Leave.”

“From a business perspective, yes, but know this: I don’t need shit from a man like you.”

“A man like me, huh?” He strides forward to take your chin between his thumb and index finger, stroking the skin and your lower lip. You slap his hand away while he grins devilishly at you, eyes twinkling dangerously. “I like my women with a little fire in ‘em.”

“You’re disgusting and I will take my leave,” you scoff, turning away from him and lifting up the length of your dress.
He reaches out to your elbow, your skin burning under his touch, and he yanks you towards him, until your back is against his chest. Your heart is hammering beneath your rib cage, and you try pulling yourself away from his embrace, but he’s too strong and you curse under your breath.

“How about we make another business proposal, sweetheart?”
You’re quiet, so he continues, spinning you around and wrapping his hands around your midsection.
“Let’s see how long you keep this little charade up.”

“What makes you think that I’ll agree?”

He points at your cheeks, “That blush says everything I need to know.” You didn’t even notice that your skin was flushing harshly.

“I know that my touch excites you, Princess.” You grimace, jaw tightened and fists balling up.

“You’re appalling, and a useless excuse of a man, with nothing to offer me but an ill-disposed temper and spiky hair. Believe me, Bakugou, this will be no issue,” you pronounce viciously.

His jaw slacks open before he snaps it shut, and with roll of his eyes he glowers at you. You have no idea where so much spite has grown inside you, even surprising yourself with how much anger you held in your words.

“Let’s discuss the terms and conditions, my dear. Two months, you live here with me. If I win, we marry. If I lose then I will grant your father’s wishes of giving your country trade and business opportunities and you can return home. In my opinion, it’s a win-win.” He smiles lazily at you, eyes narrowed and watching you fidget nervously with your fingers. Did you want to take the risk? It would make your father disappointed to come home empty handed, with no ring and no promise as an heir to the throne. You were scared. Frightened that your feelings could somehow escalate towards this man, but you reassured yourself. There would be no way.

“Deal.”

The next few weeks that had passed left you feeling weary. Bakugou was flirting shamelessly, desperately trying to get under your skin. You two share common interests, but it isn’t enough to form a bond beyond acquaintanceship. You explained why you hated the idea of arranged marriage, that true love should be natural and easy. He asked to know why you had so much rage in the beginning, why you didn’t give him a chance before you snapped at him with remarks. It was probably just pent up disappointment from your parents. You were their last born daughter, the only one out of three that has not yet been married. You wanted to prove that you would be just as strong, twice as powerful on your own, without being in a sham of a marriage.

“Sounds like a lot of pressure on you,” he comments, your arm hooked around his bicep as he escorts you to his chambers. “Wanna know what I think, though?”

“Not entirely.”

“People live on the streets. Kids, elders, and even people our age. Do you know how shitty it is to sit there and whine about your problems as a princess while they don’t even know when their next meal is? Perk up, buttercup, ‘cause you’re living lavish and there’s just some shit you can’t control.” Of all the people in this world, you had to hear it from him that you were stuck up. It’s a surreal feeling that really makes you wonder where he became so wise. He doesn’t show this side of him often, but when he does, it always manages to make you speechless. You flop down on the bed, the sheets curling underneath you as you kick off your heels and rub the soles of your feet.

“You’re right, Katsuki,” you sigh defeatedly, watching him undo his tie and vest. “Maybe I’m just a selfish, spoiled brat.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. You just needed to see the bigger picture, ya know?” His knee pushes against yours, giving him room to stand between your legs. He cups your chin and lifts it up to stare down into your eyes. “You’re welcome. Now where’s my fucking kiss?”

You huff, “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t be like that, princess,” he growls in your ear, gently biting on the lobe.

It’s just one kiss. One deep, passionate, tongue sucking and lip biting kiss, filled with hunger and desire. A low groan is audible when the tips of your fingers trail down his mandible, down his throat, onto his chest. This doesn’t mean anything. Everyone has needs, everyone has an itch that begs to be scratched; this is no different. That’s what you tell yourself. This won’t happen again.

He breathes over your mouth, vermillion eyes locked on yours and he smiles with a certain victorious and smug eeriness.

“This means nothing to me,” you whisper, eyebrows furrowed and lips tugged into a frown.

“It’s not healthy to lie to yourself, (Y/N). Come on,” he purrs, rubbing his hand along the curves of your torso. “Admit how much you want me.”

“You fucking wish,” you bite. His breath fans over your face as he laughs darkly, pulling himself off of you after pressing his pelvis into yours. You whimper at the loss of his body weight, and his eyes snap back to your face hastily, like he couldn’t believe the sound.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

Bakugou saunters into the adjoining bathroom to finish getting undressed, without so much as a second glance. Did you mess up the progress you two have made? You could finally hold a civil conversation and had noticed that he seemed genuinely hurt, but you shrugged it off to make yourself feel less worried for him. Why did he care so much, anyway? He had hundreds of women at his leisure, practically throwing themselves at him at the little scouting banquet, but he stuck his claws in you.

That night, while tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, you face him and watch his features contort. The scowl that he wore constantly was finally relaxed, and he looked peaceful. You inhale shakily; you missed home. This would never be a place for you, at least one that you wanted.

“Is the idea of marrying me that bad, or am I missing something?” His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked down at you, curling his fingers around yours.

“Bakugou,” you moan in frustration, “go to sleep.”

“Answer me.”

You don’t know how to. One second you’re laughing with him and the next, biting his head off. It isn’t fair to him. This was his idea and you would think that he knew about the off chance that you wouldn’t budge, yet it was still a shock to him. There was one week left to prove himself. One week to make you stay, and you were getting impatient with yourself. Why does your pride have to get in the way every damn time?

“What do you want me to say?” You inquire shyly, suddenly feeling small and cornered. He props his head up in the palm of his hand, and scowls at you.

“Lie and tell it to my face that you don’t feel what I feel.” Eyes searching yours, he grabs hold of your jaw and forces you to look at him. “Forget about the stupid ass deal we made and tell me how you feel.”

Your mouth opens, wanting to say something but nothing comes to mind. You run a blank. As time ticks by he gets more agitated but maintains a poker face, waiting. Begging.

“I-I…” you trail off. Just spit it out. For once in your life, put your ego on the backburner and stop repressing your emotions, please.

“If I go first, will it make it easier?” He asks, his voice husky and low, seductive and tempting. Warm and soft lips capture yours in a quick peck, and you melt against it. You nod.

“I love you.”

That haunting L word that you were so frightened of was but a misunderstanding. All those years of shooing off suitors that your parents chose for you, declaring that true love would find itself on its own. Perhaps, in hindsight, you were preparing for this moment. Have you known all along that this would happen? That this rough around the edges, reckless and quick tempered man was in fact, your fairy tale savior? Who really knows, besides fate? Your hands voyage towards his scalp, raking your fingernails across and tugging on the light strands. You kiss him once, twice, until he sucks you in, enveloping you in his arms as his teeth grab at your bottom lip, humming as he plants a final kiss firmly on your mouth.

“I think you know how I feel about you, Bakugou.”

“You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

The next morning, you woke up before him. Face buried into his pillow, back facing you, and you smiled fondly. You stride towards the balcony. It’s a windy day, sunny and bright, but that sinking feeling in your stomach was churning, making it hard to ignore. You couldn’t do it. This wasn’t a place for you anymore. It was merely time wasted, fooling around, and though you hated to admit it, you did love Katsuki. You loved him dearly. Why was it so hard for you to stay and be happy? You pack what little belongings you brought along, and closed the heavy door with light hands, careful not to wake him. It was a cowardly move, and you despise yourself for it. Pretty soon, Katsuki would despise you too.

“What have you been doing for the past month and a half? Just tugging the poor boy along?” Your father yelled across the dining room table. You sink into your chair, the self-loathing feelings rising up once again. “We made a deal, (Y/N), that if you didn’t marry this boy then we have no choice. We will pick a suitor for you.”

“Dad, please! I just need more time to figure out what I want!”

He heaves a disappointed sigh, standing up from his seat and slamming his fist on the table. “Why can’t you just be like your sisters?!”

Your mother observes silently, not bothering to look at you before following after his footsteps. You sit there, head in your hands, blinking back tears.

Four months have passed. Five months since you’ve last seen Katsuki. You journal about him every night, about how big of a mistake you’ve made and that you wish to go back in time so desperately to tell him how you feel. Hindsight is 20/20, they say.

You were now engaged to be married, after courting this man your parents selected for three months. Twenty years older than you, married twice before, with three sons, hoping for another with you. It made you sick to your stomach whenever you touched him. The kisses felt empty and void of any emotion, and every evening as you shut yourself in your chambers, you fought the urge to cry. This is not the life you wanted.

The next morning, you awake before noon, and when you poked your head out of your chambers, there was bustling of all the workers and maids. You almost run into one of the working women, and she widens her eyes in surprise.

“Oh, Princess (Y/N), you’re awake!”

“What’s going on?”

“We have a visitor coming for brunch from one the neighboring countries, Aldora. King Bakugou, I believe. We’re all very busy, so if you’ll excuse me…” and she scampers off down the hall.

Your heart sunk. King. You saunter to your mother’s room, knocking once before opening.

“Mother, I’m afraid I don’t feel very well,” you fake a cough, “I don’t think I’ll be able to go to the brunch.”

She scans your face, quirking a brow, before tapping the space next to her on the bed. “It will be incredibly rude to miss out on congratulating the new King of Aldora, don’t you think?” She exhales. “It won’t be long. I expect to see you there.”

That was a dismissal, and you sulked out of her chambers and left to prepare, more mentally than physically. Your soon-to-be husband would be joining the table, unfortunately, and Katsuki would see that you supposedly moved on, and it tore your heart to shreds, though you were sanguine that he would see through the guise.

“Thank you for accepting our invitation, King Bakugou. It’s a pleasure to have you here,” your father raises his glass of sparkling cider, not yet taking to drink quite yet. Katsuki’s crimson orbs never leave your face, while you’ve been avoiding making eye contact since he stepped in the dining room.

“I appreciate you all wanting to congratulate me on my new position.”

The first course was served, and everyone chatted amongst themselves while you prayed to be invisible, to go back under your bed sheets and disappear. Your fiance rubbed your knee in an effort to catch your attention. “You alright, love?”

You visibly cringed, sparking interest in Katsuki’s irises. Everyone scrutinized you; some concerned, others waiting to simply hear you speak. You haven’t uttered a single word to anyone.

“Yes, I just need some air. Excuse me.”

Hastily, you pull up the hem of your dress and walk briskly out of the room despite your parents’ protests, breaking into a run towards the back door, into the garden. The roses, the sunflowers, tulips and the cherry blossom tree in the corner, with a decorative fountain and koi fish pond in the center, all so beautifully placed and trimmed. It was your safe space to think and contemplate, and large enough to get lost in the maze created by hedges.

“So this is where you go after a long day of fucking me over,” a voice barks, but when you spin around, his face doesn’t match his temper. He resembles that of a broken shell of a man, hands deep in the pockets of his slacks and anxiously tapping his foot.

“Katsuki,” you breathe. Tears well up, and you wipe them away before they could fall.

“No,” he snaps. “You don’t get to say my name like that anymore, princess.”

“Please,” you sniffle, “leave me alone.”

“That’d be too easy for you. Why do you always run away from all your fucking problems?”

Because it’s safe. There isn’t any yelling, no feelings getting hurt, and no confrontation. It was a lie. He’s close to you, enough to where you can smell his cologne and you long to feel him against you again.

“Why did you do it?”

All those suppressed feelings arose once he asked. Your bottom lip trembled, with nowhere to go, nobody to save you from this. It was bound to happen, you knew it.

“I was scared. You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand because you didn’t even fucking talk to me about it. I thought we were on the same page, (Y/N),” he replies in incredulity, his voice breaking as he said your name. “I thought it would be you and me. Now you have a goddamn fiance?”

“I don’t love him,” you whisper, sucking in a harsh breath. 

“Yeah,” he sneered, “You don’t fucking love anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true and you fucking know it!”

He visibly swallows, waiting for you to speak up again and crossing his arms.

“I love you, Katsuki.” Your voice cracks, your cheeks are flushed and he doesn’t say anything for a long while. You’re forced to study the ground, examining the pristine cut grass and the stone pathway. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, tongue in cheek, before sucking his teeth and kicking the ground.

“What about that old geezer that was feeling you up? You gonna leave him?”

You shake your head, “I don’t have a choice anymore. I made a mistake.”

“I’m talking to your parents.” He prowls towards you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll be damned if I let you leave my sight again.”

To your fiance’s dismay, when you both showed up with fingers interlaced, he was fuming. Your parents, mother especially, didn’t faze at all, just blinking curiously.

“You become king and you come into this country taking what you want!” He places his hands firmly on Katsuki’s chest, and you can feel his hand tighten. You shield yourself using his shoulder as you cower away.

“You’re just a child! And you,” he shoves his finger just centimeters away from your face. “After all the shit I’ve put up with-“

“Get your finger out of her face or so help you God, I’ll rip it off and feed it to the dogs like a fucking sausage.”

People in the dining hall gasp, covering their mouths and glancing at each other in disbelief. 

“You’re right, though. I’m only 23 and I’ve accomplished more in my life than you have in-what? 80 years?” he sneered, “Get the hell out of my face.”

Your father stands, dusting off his vest, and smiles. “I never thought I’d see the day where someone stands up for my ungrateful daughter.”

That stings. Of course, you’ll never be as appreciated as your sisters. They complied with each of your parents commands and did so with a bat of their eyelashes, and whatever they wanted they received. Although being non-compliant, independence-seeking and outspoken, you felt yourself shrink in size at your father’s domineering glare, and over time you felt your self-worth dissipate.

“With all due disrespect, sir, your daughter is nothing of the sort. Since day one, she’s been strong-willed and stubborn as hell,” he narrows his eyes at you. “Not everyone is born to be a follower. This girl’s a leader. Yeah, she’s made god awful decisions but she’s young, she’ll learn. You, on the other hand, with your little mindset of handing her off to people like this guy-“ he juts his thumb behind him “-and expecting her to just follow along like a lost little puppy, that won’t last long.”

Your father looks at you expectantly, as if threatening you to retort and stand up to him. Still, you hide your face behind Katsuki’s broad shoulder, terrified of angering him more than you had.

“We’re leaving,” Katsuki grunts, hauling you in tow without saying anything else. After all, there was nothing left to say.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you murmur into his neck, a safe distance away from your home and on the way to the national airport.

“Actually, I did, because I’m sick of everyone telling us what to do. Like I’m some dumbass kid not knowing a damn thing about how the world works.”

“Us?”

His sight flickers down to you. “Do you honestly think I enjoyed sitting there and have my dad pick out a wife for me?” He complains. “My stupid old man didn’t give me a choice, either.”

“So it wasn’t you who picked me.”

“Nah,” he ruffles your hair, “that was pure luck. I guess I can thank him for doing something right before he kicked the bucket.”

”That’s a little harsh,” you frown.

”Trust me, he’s fine where he’s at.”

You already knew all the corridors and hallways and secret tunnels to who knows what in his large home. With 209 rooms, it was hard not to get lost, but during the odd months you stayed there it was easy to memorize, and since Katsuki had meetings to attend and events to host with his father, he left you alone until night fell, and then you had him all to yourself. It was those moments you cherished the most. You snuggle up under his chin, tickling his lips with your hair, and blow out a puff of air.

“Shit, what’s wrong now?”

“Nothing,” you smile, long eyelashes gazing up at him adoringly. “I just missed this.”

Chapter Text

Tamaki knew he wasn’t crazy. Anytime he brought up the subject to Mirio or Nejire, they made it seem like he was, though.

At first, it was the little buzzing in his ear. It resembled a fly or a mosquito, and in the summertime, it is pretty common and nothing out of the ordinary. All he would do was wave a hand to shoo it away, but it would only just orbit around to the other. Then a voice appeared.

Usually, he’d be at a nearby riverbank when it would giggle and start a conversation. Other times when he would be walking through the forest it’d be more outspoken, rambling on about its day, asking how he'd been doing. He didn't think of it as annoying, just random and odd, but he grew accustomed to it as it happened every month, then every week, and every day. 

More recently, it would resonate in his ears when he would get into a match, which he only attended because it was his primary source of income, and the voice treated it like he was going into war. The sweet chanting of “you can do it!” and other encouraging phrases gave him a bit of a push, and every time it occurred he never lost. He’d built up a large fortune all thanks to it.

It began to be a little more unnerving whenever he slept. After a particularly long and exhausting day, all he wanted was to curl up underneath his favorite blanket and get some well-deserved shuteye. He felt a pair of eyes watching him as he tossed around to get comfortable, but as soon as his own fluttered open, there was no one to be seen. Weirdly enough, the feeling it left him in was like chasing down an old friend. The entity wasn't evil or eerie, but just downright strange to him. 

A cold sweat would run down his neck and leave him bewildered because he knew deep down he wasn’t crazy.

He’s never seen the face behind the voice, though, and it ran him up the wall trying to find possible reasonings for the phenomenon. Did he want to know? What exactly is he expecting? How many countless nights of no sleep will he have to endure, before catching it in the act?

After dragging his feet home after another brutal day at the arena, he shuffled into the kitchen, brushing off his armor and setting it onto the stand. Again, there was that same pair of eyes. Watching him, spying on him with intrigue and childish curiosity.

Like a flash of light, he whips his head around, and there he sees you. It definitely isn’t what he expected, and to most, it would be a treat to see someone as beautiful and enchanting as you. For him, it was a catastrophe. Delightful, yes, but still a catastrophe and he wanted to look at an interesting spot on the floor rather than the celestial being before him.

You try to hold his gaze but with no prevail, as his eyes just sink to the floor and his cheeks go ablaze with red. Yes, he would have liked to admire you more, but his timid personality wouldn’t allow that.

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble, Tamaki-kun,” you say rather sheepishly, striding up to him with bare feet and gentle steps. “I just couldn’t help myself! I’ve never seen someone like you before.”

He didn’t know what you meant, but it did make his heart pound in his ears and his whole body was on fire.

“My name’s (Y/N)!” You beam at him, a stunning smile that was sure to keep him up thinking about it later. Your wings, a translucent purple and almost veiny, beat softly before they halt completely.

He nodded subtly, offering the tiniest ‘uhum’, and there were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he settled on one.

“W-what do you mean by someone like m-me?” He trembled, and you tilt your head to the side, pressing a finger into your cheek cutely.

“Well, a human! Where I come from, there aren’t that many,” you explain, turning gracefully like a ballerina, dancing around the living room with a pleased grin. “I’m glad that you aren’t mad at me! That would make me so sad.”

He really should be mad at you, considering you’ve been borderline stalking him for months. Now that he thinks about it, he should have seen it coming. The chirpy voice, the buzzing sound, the encouragement and the curious eyes on his back. Like a guardian angel, or rather a guardian fairy, that followed him around like a shadow. Still a little disturbing, though, but he doesn’t really mind and brushed it off as water under the bridge. He just wished that you could be microscopic again so he could talk to you more...comfortably.

You hummed and sang a quiet tune, exploring around the house and flipping through newspapers on the counter as if you lived there. Tamaki had to remind himself that technically, you had been.

“How did you do today at the arena! Did you win? I'm sorry I couldn't come with you, please forgive me!"

“Y-yes, I did okay. Don't worry about it.” He resorted to rummaging in the cooler for something to eat and heat up over the stove, his stomach growling with immense hunger. 

“I’m so happy that you did well!”

Tamaki has never been one to accept praise well. From Mirio, from Nejire, from Kirishima, and especially not strangers. Not even his mentor who he even looked up to for guidance and encouragement. His automatic response, like an emergency system set off inside of his mind, would be that they were mocking him. Those were just simply empty words. But you, those words were filled to the brim with positivity and kindness. They were genuine and sincere and promising that even if he didn’t win, you would still be there for him and that it would be okay. It had always been like that since the start.

After somewhat knowing you for months, nearing a year, he figured he should make some kind of connection with you since it became clear you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. He didn’t want you to, anyway. He could be content with having you around for a while.

“Where are we headed off to today?” You asked, shoving a handful of berries from your palm into your mouth. You chomped away, skipping ahead of him despite him being the one leading you both. Your dress twirled up, and by chance, he peeked at the skin of your thighs, which he immediately rendered as a huge mistake, hastily averting his eyes to watching his feet.

“I...we...groceries,” is all he can muster, but you understand completely, bobbing your head excitedly. 

“Market square! I love going there. The fruit always smells so fresh and they have so many different kinds!”

Tamaki realized quickly that rambling was something you did quite frequently, and he thought it was cute. It kept the balance between you both; him on the verge of mute, and you like a lively chatterbox. You reminded him vaguely of a second Nejire, and although he appreciated her, there was something more endearing about you that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Once you two arrived, you transformed into your microscopic self and settled behind his ear, the deep indigo hues of his messy hair providing the perfect hiding spot. Tamaki knew what he liked, but he wasn’t sure about you, and he’d never really asked before. There were no complaints on your end about what fruit and vegetables he brought home. It was odd to be shopping for two instead of one.

“Oh, oh, oh!” You shouted eagerly when his hand brushes over a stand of strawberries, debating whether or not to grab a bunch. “Get some, please, Tamaki-kun! They’re in season right now!”

He hummed a reply, careful as to not make anyone else think he’s a lunatic for talking to himself, and places a pound or so in a paper sack, paying the tender once he weighed it.

The journey continues until his bag is full and almost overloaded, partly because his supply was running extremely low and partly because you wanted every fruit imaginable, even the exotic ones he’d never bothered to try.

The gleeful squeak you made when he paid for every type made his lips curl up very slightly, and he felt the familiar rum drum in his heart again.

“I gotta say, Tamaki-kun,” your words are muffled as you chew around the cherry seed and stem, before spitting it out onto a napkin. If spitting could be classified as adorable, he was sure it’d be because of you. “I’ve taken quite a liking to you!”

His palms are leaned back for support and his legs are sprawled out in the grass as you two admire the garden behind an abandoned church. The flowers sway softly with the breeze and the rustling of the leaves made him calm, along with your exuberant company.

“D-do you miss your home?” He purposefully ignored your statement to ask what had been on his mind for a while now. Fairies are known to be hidden in the forests, but he didn’t know which one you belonged to. They reside in tall oak trees and generally stay in groups. He knew that if you had been missing from his life for a whole year, he would yearn for you dearly.

You sighed thoughtfully, mulling over the question for a few moments before answering earnestly. “Sometimes! But now not so much as before, when I first left.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear shyly, a side of you Tamaki had rarely seen. You poke your index fingers together and he watches, puzzled, as your doe eyes light up with fervent passion. “I’m happy whenever I’m with you, Tamaki-kun, so it doesn't matter where I am!"

Again, his cheeks heat up and his eyes darted to anywhere else but you. Obviously, he wasn’t aware of your budding interest in him, let alone his own crush. Maybe if you weren’t so beautiful and kind and charming, then he wouldn’t have fallen so hard.

“M-me too,” he admitted, hiding his face from your penetrating gaze. You smiled and clapped your hands together happily, already moving on to the next topic of conversation.

Although you pretty much helped yourself to everything in his house; his bed, his cooler, his sofa, and his shower, there was one thing you haven’t touched, and that was Tamaki. So touch-starved and awkward, one could imagine the inner turmoil it could cause, which is why you took it day by day.

You began slowly; holding pinkies and linking elbows was something you enjoyed and took every chance you were given. While he made dinner, eyes trained in concentration so as to not burn the meat, you would peek over his shoulder and wrap your arms around his midsection. His initial response was to tense up and freeze, but then he found himself becoming more at ease the more it happened. In fact, he welcomed your embrace as often as possible. It made him feel safe.

If he wanted to watch the television, you would be there, and you would gently motion for him to put his head in your lap, and play with his elf-like ears and scratch his scalp. Many times he’d find himself asleep and wake up groggily from how good it felt to be tended to, and there you would be, eyes gleaming down lovingly at him, paying no mind to whatever show was on and focusing on the task instead. 

Then came the kisses. Those were the hardest to get used to. What began as innocent pecks on the cheek turned into longing kisses in the middle of his bedroom, you pressing your center against his pelvis while you straddle him on the bed, cupping his face with soft and gentle hands and swiping your tongue on his lips.

His skin burned red with embarrassment but you didn’t stop, not until he was a sputtering mess and he pushed you off delicately. You pout, sitting with your legs bent underneath and hands on your knees.

“Did I do something wrong, Tamaki-kun?”  Your voice is breathless and he awkwardly adjusts his pants for more room, praying you don't notice the pronounced tent. Downhearted, he shook his head ‘no’ and sighs, covering his face, clearly embarrassed.

“I-I’m not used to...kissing…” he explained briefly, his lips forming a tight line and you smiled softly, his mind already jumping to the conclusion that you felt sorry for him. That he isn't man enough to take you by the waist and take what he wants. Yet you simply pet his hair, kissing his neck and forehead and nose, making those negative thoughts to feather away and turn into tranquil ones.

“Should we try again some other time?”

The thought of that situation happening again and again, over and over, made him giddy and his stomach fluttered with butterflies but sent his bottom lip quiver. But he still nodded, taking in a deep breath and laying down on his back. As if on command, you nuzzled into his side, caressing his chest and throwing a leg over his own.

“I…” you murmured, capturing his inquisitive sights. You traced circles on his abdomen and it tickled ever so slightly, causing the muscles to flex. “I love you, Tamaki-kun. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He noticed you apologized a lot, for things that weren’t so serious or things he didn’t even know had occurred. That was just another one of your character traits to him. You had no concept of personal space and did things on your own accord, almost always including him into it. You were joyful and smiling constantly and said what was on your mind. You were smart and generous and gave him everything he wanted without him having to ask. To be understood and to feel wanted no matter the circumstances was something he never received from anyone as much as you.

Which is why he desperately wanted to say it back, but his voice hitches in the back of his throat and he mentally cursed himself, forcing the words to come out, yet they don’t.

He waited a little while until your eyelids fluttered closed and your breathing becomes shallow, indicating that you were sleeping soundly. Your limbs were limp and your features looked so peaceful, and at last, he found the courage to speak up.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).”

Chapter Text

Always the doormat. Whenever people asked, you were at their beck and call. Maybe it was your parent’s fault, constantly telling you that it was impolite to say ‘no’. To talk back. To speak your mind. Or maybe, it was your friends. Anytime they wanted to vent, you were there for them. Offering advice and listening to their problems yet getting nothing in return but texts left unread and busy signals whenever you tried to reach them. Even in regular face-to-face conversations, you were left out, always listening intently but never opening your mouth to butt in.

That was what you considered your downfall. Always available for other people, but nobody was available for you. Hawks was different, however, and it was odd. He waited for you to speak before continuing, and he let you ramble on without interruptions. It didn’t matter if what you were saying didn’t make sense, he enjoyed paying close attention to every minuscule detail and asked questions and offered input every now and then. He always returned your calls and always answered your texts. Even if he was in a conversation with someone else, someone you didn’t know, he still made sure to include you.

You didn’t know if it was fear that held you back. The thought of being rejected, of being tossed away and being replaced, did strike you as a rather frightening assumption of what would happen if you did speak up. If you did happen to say ‘no’ that one time. If you did stand your ground and look those people in the eye and tell them off for once. No, you weren’t sure what it was that kept you acting like a pushover, but man, did you want to change it.

Hawks helped immensely. His attentiveness and over-friendliness that verged on the line of flirtation did make you question his intentions, but his actions did make you a tad bit more confident.

Despite sitting on the sidelines, as you liked to call it, typing away on your desk computer at a local newspaper office, being friends with Hawks made it easy for you to get in on the action of being a hero. That kind of life wasn’t suited for you, that was very clear from the beginning when your parents glared down at a young five year old, beating it into her that her quirk wasn’t strong enough. Those civilians didn’t need someone like her to get in the way of the real heroes.

Hawks had told you countless of times that what they said was meaningless. Their opinions weren’t facts laid in concrete. You could always prove to them that you were helpful in more ways than just a hero, and so you took his word for it and applied for a journalism job.

Your quirk wasn’t anything extraordinary. The ability to perform calculations in your head while still maintaining a relatively common IQ range was not that impressive to the average person, but there Hawks was. Studying you carefully as you stare up into the ceiling, doing a ridiculously long calculus problem. The numbers just flew past you, adding up and dividing and multiplying at once. Like a giant calculator. You give him the answer and he looks it up, eyes widening, obviously amazed.

“I think if you really wanted to, you could be a hero with this kind of quirk. I can think of a hundred ways for you to help people,” he went on, but you wave your hands in dismissal.

“I don’t want to be a hero, I’m fine being here just watching you guys.”

He knows deep down that it's bullshit, but he lets it go for now. He’d rather enjoy this time spent with you before he has to go for another mission. Over the span of two years, three months, and five days, Hawks had taken a liking to you. Though you appeared to be depressively quiet and rather boring to others, he found your insight fascinating and had imagined you as his partner in crime, so to speak. You could tell him how many feet the villain is inside the building, what the parameters are, the exact measurements. You could even come up with new technology for him and adjust his already perfect eyesight or just join him at his agency and be a little hidden agent. There were countless opportunities so much more useful to him and you that he refused to believe that you were satisfied sitting at a desk and typing away.

The only good part about your job was that you could patrol around with him and ask different heroes questions, and while you were there with a notepad and pen, he was behind you as a shadow for encouragement. Also, he could get a nice look at your ass.

Hawks had admitted a long time ago that his feelings for you would never fade, not as long as you were still around and being as smart and profound as usual. He wasn’t quite sure whether or not you returned said feelings, though, so he figured he’d test his theory that you were curious at the least and wanted to explore further. 

So he leans over and kisses you. It’s nothing life-changing to you; just a small peck. Only enough to ignite a small flame. He grins when you look at him wide-eyed and confused.

“I just wanted to try something,” he explained. It was only in your nature for you to clam up, not bothering to say anything else and instead just silently pray that he does it again with more effort and passion. He knew that would be the case.

You fidget on your spot on the roof, eyes glazing over the skyline and you chew on your lip.

“What’s wrong?”

You shake your head. Hawks takes it upon himself to begin his teasing, knowing very well how you operate.

“If there’s something you want, you gotta tell me, turtle dove,” he purrs, a smug grin forming on his mouth and you want nothing more than to wipe it off, preferably with your own mouth.

“Why do you do keep doing that?” You whine, crossing your arms defensively with a huff. He was always so good at making you flustered enough to keep you up at night. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the first time this had happened but it all played out the same. He kissed you, you shied away, rinse and repeat. This time, though, Hawks would make sure that it wouldn’t end with both of you going home unlucky.

“You gotta learn how to take what you want somehow.”

You hated the fact that he had a life lesson behind all of this pining and hoped that maybe he would be a little more romantic, but that would be far-fetched for the birdbrain, albeit a shameless flirt. He knew you were tired of being the doormat. The pushover. The person who got backstabbed by everyone she put her trust into, who got her heart broken one too many times. The worst of it all was that you blamed yourself for all your shortcomings. He couldn’t believe it; you put the fault on yourself despite it being way out of your control. He was growing tired of it all, too. Seeing you with that crestfallen look as you dragged out of your boss’ office. He could hear that bastard bitching at you from the hallway, and not only was it embarrassing for you, he could also hear your coworkers snickering. Once he shoots daggers at them they immediately fall silent, but they still treat you the same. Piling on their own workload on top of yours and you struggle to catch up with the deadlines. Yeah, he was getting really fucking sick of it.

“Listen, babe. You want another kiss, I’ll give it to you. But I’m not making the first move anymore.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for you to kiss me,” you scowl. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at but- hey! ”

He drags your body by your feet until you’re sliding down on the concrete, but it’s short and quick so the pain on your head and back subsides like it wasn’t even there. He straddles you, placing your arms above your head as you twist and turn, trying to get out of his talons but it’s futile. Let’s face it, (Y/N), he’s a delicious hunk of a chicken strip and much stronger than you.

“I know you want me just as much as I want you. I can see it in your eyes, little dove. If either of us are playing a game here, it’d be you.”

He was right in a sense, but Hawks knew that you didn’t mean to lead him on. You barely even knew what you were doing half of the time. He just wished that you would be a little more assertive. Whether it be in your work, with your parents, your friends, and especially with him. He wanted you to be in charge and he wanted you take what you wanted, him included.

Your cheeks tint a delightful rosy hue and he smirks knowingly.

“Come on, (Y/N). Don’t make me beg for it anymore.”

Although it comes out as a plea, it’s more so a threat. So you do what you’ve been yearning for the entire two years, three months, and five days, and kiss him. You grab him by the face, tug on his wild hair, and he groans in response. Lips fervently move against your own and you match his momentum, his hips bucking into yours and you squeak, hands sprawled out against his broad chest.

By the time you two break apart, you’re both panting, breath still intermingling with each other’s and he smiles proudly.

“Fucking finally,” he sighs, and leans in to kiss you again.

Chapter Text

There’s a phrase that states that during the night is when everything comes to life. People traveling into the city to see the lights set up among the trees, to see landmarks and visit ramen restaurants and food trucks, and to buy cheesy souvenirs for their friends back home like magnets or coffee mugs. That wasn’t the case for you, though you wish once in a while your boss would let you relax. It was very seldom that you got a day off, as you were always put to work and had little time to spare for outside activities. Some missions would take you months at a time so you had to learn how to have fun while on the job, and it wasn’t difficult. You were free to do as you pleased as long as the job got completed, and you indulged in that perk often.

You don’t remember how you came into this line of work. Since sixteen years old, you’ve trained in combat, how to make and take apart time bombs, guns, grenades. All for one purpose: to kill. You thought it was a waste of time to spend so much effort on a side job for bottom feeders, but the money paid well so you stuck with it. You didn’t have much of a choice anyhow, considering you didn’t know your name and who you were as a person when you got recruited. The agency that took you in obviously saw some potential in you to even accept you as one of their own. Maybe you would be good at it, and you guessed correctly. Now the top assassin of the agency, you’ve made a name for yourself among multiple broadcast news centers and newspapers, all questioning whether or not you were a savior or just as evil as those you murdered.

Most people get the wrong idea. They assume that because you’re an assassin, you kill people for fun. There is no reasoning behind it besides you being a nasty criminal with a taste for blood. Believe it or not, there is an explanation for it all, and it’s very simple. The people you kill have all deserved it. Rapists, pedophiles, kidnappers. Do they deserve a second chance at life? The average person would say: probably not so much.

This was your fuel to the fire behind the gun. The purpose for doing it, for cornering them and shooting them point blank or twisting the knife until they go limp.

So here you are, wandering around the lit up plaza in the middle of the fall festival, with everyone in their traditional kimonos and enjoying cultural treats and entertainment. You most likely stood out the most judging by the suspicious glances, but then again who really cared when they were there to have fun?

Soon, your target comes into view. A tall man in his early 40s with a scar underneath his left eye. Tattoos along the right arm. He’s somewhat limping because of an injury to his right leg. Gold rings pushed to the knuckle of every finger of both hands. Bingo.

You stalk through crowds of people, keeping up with the group and you watch as he takes a woman sharply by the arm and into the back alley of a gift shop. This guy clearly has no shame and it makes you scowl in disgust. You go around the back of the restaurant next to the shop, where there are a fire escape and a metal stairway that leads to the roof, and you climb, not wanting to waste a second in case it’s too late. You peer down as he moves in to kiss her, and while she’s busy struggling and trying to push him off, you grab your loaded pistol and take aim, pulling back the hammer and your eyes follow the man’s movement, finger just barely brushing the trigger.

Who the hell-? You blink in shock, losing not only your aim but your focus when another person comes into view. Large red wings are attached to his back that moves with him as he struggles, and in minutes he has him pinned to the ground and unconscious after a few good punches. The woman scurries away with a shaky thanks and you continue to stare, bewildered and pissed that he took your reward money right from under you, heaving a frustrated sigh. Of course Hawks was the moron to get in the way. Older than you, younger in experience, he was your overly flirtatious and cocky counterpart. Surprisingly, you two got along well but when it came to working together, it was awful and had too many mistakes, but somehow you always managed to pull it off. His smug confidence caught you off guard sometimes, but you liked it about him. On the receiving end of your affections, since his first day at the agency, he flocked to you and stayed by your side, offering his company in more ways than one. Although the majority of your conversations consisted of arguments, you both were aware it was simply banter. If it wasn’t, what other excuse did you have for letting that smug punk ravish you every chance he got? That was something that wasn’t earned quickly, and he had to work for it. Ultimately, you were a pair of parasites that took what you wanted whenever you craved it, so it didn’t take as long as it might’ve been for anyone else. Not that you minded.

You jump down from your spot on the roof after deciding you weren’t gonna let him off the hook that easy. He jumps back defensively when he hears you padding towards him, gun already hidden inside of its holster. A confused scowl crosses his face. “How did you-?”

“You birdbrain, I had him! Why’re you here anyway?” You groan, irritation prickling your tone and you take out a pocket knife, slicing his jugular and grabbing the unconscious man by the collar, tossing him like crumpled paper into the dumpsters by the corner as he bled out.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”

He watches as you turn to face him and he has to bite back a smile when he sees an adorable pout on your lips. Dressed in an all black, he had to say it was a good look on you. It accentuated your frame in a way that colors couldn’t, and it was easy on the eyes.

“Uh, my job ?” You say it so matter-of-factly as if he’s a moron for not understanding who you are or where you came from. He knew since being assigned as your partner for a number of missions, constantly sitting in the shadows waiting for you to be finished. What can he say, he likes to watch you in action. “You didn’t answer me, Hawks. What’re you doing here?”

“Well,” he drawled out, rocking back and forth on his heels, “I was out on a mission, trying to get paid, you know. The usual.”

“Endeavor gave you the same mission as me? Man, I work with dumbasses.”

“Hey,” he holds his hands up in surrender with a sly grin on his face. “I’ll tell you what. You can keep the reward money.”

You roll your eyes and go to shove him out of your path to exit the alley, “Shut up, dude. I was gonna take the money anyway. I didn’t need your permission.”

He grabs your arm and pulls you close to his chest, his strength overpowering you and he smirks while you glare up at him.

“You didn’t notice that I let you do all the dirty work? I basically handed it over to you.”

“You’re dead weight, Hawks. Like always.”

His grip tightens and he walks you both towards the brick wall, pressing his body against yours and you grunt.

“Don’t be mean, (Y/N),” he mockingly whines, chocolate eyes holding a mischievous glint. You really hated how alluring he could be. Nearly all missions ended with you spending the night at his house or him at yours, a never-ending cycle but with no strings attached. Funnily enough, you never cared to sleep with anyone else but him, and you knew he didn’t, either. Nobody could give you the same satisfaction, nobody could fill you up like he did. “You know I make up for it in the bedroom.”

You laugh, breaking out of your stern and hard persona and letting your true self shine, the character that only Hawks deserved to see. He cutely frowns at your response.

“Listen, Chicken Little, I don’t know who told you that, but it wasn’t me.”

“Ah, really?” He clicked his tongue. “Maybe I got it confused with my other turtle doves.” Now it was your turn. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to thrash out from his grasp, suddenly annoyed by his touch. He laughs, his body not moving an inch and hips still pressing into yours.

“Jealous, huh? Cute!” Hawks sings, eyes closing with joy. No matter how hard you kick and push, there was no point.

“I’m not jealous.” The words emerge through gritted teeth and your eyes avert from his, giving him the opportunity to succumb to your neck, lips fervently trailing kisses along the skin, before stopping just below your ear. He sucks before pulling away with a lewd wet sound and in a trance, you run your fingers through tousled hair, whimpering softly for him to continue.

“Mmm,” he breathes, “it’s okay, chickadee. You know you’re my only one.”

In one swift motion, he lifts up your legs so they’re wrapped around him, a familiar hardness against your center and an insatiable need growing inside. He juts with his thumb towards his back, and you giggle knowingly, already mounting him like a motorbike, and he takes off into the sky.

Stepping inside of his loft, he watches with hungry slanted eyes as you hike up your pleated skirt, sliding down your panties and tossing your head over your shoulder, aware of his domineering gaze. You shove him onto the bed, attacking his lips with your own. Fingers thread in ash blonde hair before yanking in a harsh tug, making him grunt and chuckle.

“My, my, what a cute little dominatrix you are,” he chirps, voice low and raspy. He pulls you forward until you’re above his face and his mouth lines up with what he considers to be a lovely meal, his breath heating up the exposed flesh. “You do know that’s not how this works, though, right?”

So he gets to work, swiping his tongue between the folds and you clench the wrinkled bed sheets in front of you, breathy moans escaping your mouth as he sucks, licks and alternates.

There’s a phrase that states that during the night is when everything turns to life, and that proved to be true in your experience. While people resorted to nightclubs, restaurants, and bars, you decided on Hawks’ loft, allowing him to ignite that spark that made you feel alive.

Chapter Text

Four weeks. Agonizingly long, treacherous, and dull were the words Bakugou would use to describe the time spent on the open sea. Storms made the boat nearly tip over, the harsh winds blew holes in the sails. Just an overall shitshow.

So when he spotted land a couple miles away, he clenched his fist and smirked, at last . He yelled at his crew to get it together, to turn the sails north so they could go south towards the coast. As they arrived closer, he scanned the area. Mostly barren, occupied by nothing but a pier and a forest beyond the sand. There was most likely a village hidden among the trees, and they came up to the pier to fish. Surely they wouldn’t mind the king staying for a while. In fact, they should be grateful that he’s blessed them with his presence.

Kirishima rests an arm on his shoulder. “I hope they have good food. What we packed for the journey was complete garbage.”

“It’s not my fault you scoundrels only wanted chicken and fuckin’ potatoes. Should’ve figured you would get sick of it eventually.”

Bakugou glances up at the crows nests, studying Sero as he attempts to look through the monocular for obstacles ahead. “Anything?”

The raven-haired man shakes his head to deny, issuing an all clear to continue.

Crimson eyes settle on the hill of rocks over the side, stacked on top of one another and the waves smacked into the side. He could’ve sworn he’d seen something move, but he brushes it off as a fish jumping out of the water.

Once they arrive at the pier, they anchor their ship a good distance away and hop off, landing on the broken wood that held it up and practically bolted towards the village. The night was approaching and dusk began to take over, the sky turning into a deep red and orange hue.

Bakugou leads the way, clutching his staff, a sharply carved rock in the shape of a triangle at the tip, with sturdy vines as to keep it intact. His crew follows, joking and laughing with Kaminari being the loudest as always, already drooling with the illusion of there being pretty girls and delicious red meat.

As he predicted, it was an average sized town with cozy cottages and a large castle that overlooked the whole area. It outlined the horizon and held flags that waved with the wind, ushering a hello. The more he explored, the more he saw what else it contained. An apothecary, markets, blacksmiths, tailors, and plenty of very promising restaurants.

He was granted permission to stay at their finest hotel, stationed right next door to the castle and didn’t bother introducing himself to the prince, Todoroki, muttering arrogantly that “he should know who I am”, and traveled off on his own after dinner.

Something pulled him back towards the pier. It called out to him like some kind of sorcery and he was itching to find out what it was. He sits, watching the ripples through the calm water and his feet dangling off the edge. The sun was beginning to set and the clouds were reaching closer.

Then, there was singing. A delightful melody that immediately had him captivated by the sweet voice that held the notes, coming closer with each second, until a pair of hands reached up to the side of the pier, causing the king to jump.

“Who the fuck are you?”

You tilt your head, studying the fascinating creature beside you. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, lips curled into a snarl before they droop into a confused frown. A bright orange tail slaps itself onto the surface of the water, almost splashing him. You giggle when he flinches, disappearing from his sight.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those sirens,” he grumbles, taking a sudden interest in you. The way you move through the water was graceful, as if floating through the air, and he leans forward on his knees, until you’re right in front of him.

“I think so. Who the fuck are you?” The curse word sounds foreign on your tongue, making it obvious that you’re repeating his question out of mockery.

“Tch. Why don’t you tell me?” He shoots back. You grin, accepting his challenge with a light heart and float on your back, exposing your bare chest and causing the slightest tint on his cheeks before he averts his eyes angrily. You take in his clothing; claw-like earrings and multiple necklaces symbolize royalty, but with the way he acts, he’s most likely not. Kings and princes were always proper and polite. His cape was lined with fur, probably wolf or fox. He wore no shirt, just protective armbands, and plain pants.

“Are you like a pirate or something?” It’s a genuine question and Bakugou bristles defensively.

“I’m a king, you goddamn sea monkey!”

You pout, swimming up to him and yanking his foot so he falls into the water. He surfaces and sputters before sending you a menacing glare.

“That’s what you get, you heathen!”

As revenge, he dunks your head underneath, before he realizes that you aren’t a normal person like he is, and you easily escape his wrath and swim around him. You create a wave with your tail and it sends him up gently onto the pier.

With a scowl, he glances back, but you only smile, and he saunters off soaking wet.

You call out after him, “Come back soon!” which is ultimately ignored as he hunches his shoulders.

Bakugou had no idea how long it would take to rebuild the patchwork on the sails. It could take months, or possibly and preferably weeks, but he kept putting it off. Wandering towards the pier every night because no matter what his plans were, he would always run back to you. The crew was growing suspicious, but they didn’t dare to disrespect his wishes, so they complied, resorting to shoveling food down their throats and chugging rum like it was water.

There had to be an explanation for him to be hovering over you like a puppy looking for its mother. Something reasonable to say that he wasn’t growing weak and tenderhearted.

He glowers at you, merrily flicking your tail upwards and creating tiny splashes and enjoying his presence. You begin to hum, voice fading in and out of falsetto as you sing a tune. Then it clicked.

“Did you put a spell on me?!”

You halt and an ache tugs on his heart with the frown you pull, but the edge is still there. Cautious and wary.

“Why would you think that, Katsuki?”

“I shouldn’t be out here every night with some fish that just happens to be pretty. It’s rubbish,” he huffs, ignoring the smug grin you wear and shove your face away from his. “Don’t get the wrong fucking idea.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky to have run into such a nice siren such as myself. The others won’t be as forgiving.” He arches a brow, prompting you to further elaborate. “I sing for fun. I get bored out here and you’re the only one who bothers to keep me company. The others further down the shoreline,” you point to the mountain of boulders on the right, “they are the ones that seduce sailors for kill.”

You visibly deflate, crestfallen and grieving at the topic. He’s heard stories before, about how there were mermaids of some sorts that with one simple note they could enchant an entire boat of men, causing them to jump overboard and drown from the current. They were considered horror folktales, but he didn’t believe them until now.

“They killed my lover,” you whisper, the scales of your tail reflecting the light of the moon. “He was coming into the port and they caused him to jump ship. He got trapped underneath the waves.”

Chest twinging with guilt as if he had something to do with it, or maybe it was the fact that you had fallen for a human before made him jealous, either way, he felt pity for you. Losing someone that holds a special place in your heart was never easy, a lesson he’d learned pretty early on. He’d seen the way his father cried when he lost his best friend, his wife, Bakugou’s mother from an illness brought into the kingdom by foreigners. Luckily, it was retained and secluded from others, but his mother was the first to pay the price of trusting too easily.

“Have you ever loved someone before?”

He doesn’t have to think about it before answering. All the women his father summoned were after money or notoriety, nothing to offer but yet they expected too much. “No.”

“Why not?” You ignore the irritated scowl he throws at you as if it was a stupid question. With a dreamy smile, you continue. “I think love is beautiful and strange. I’ve always seen humans kiss each other and hug one another, and I’ve always wanted that connection. But it hurts, too. When I lost him, I lost myself. It took a long time until I found myself again.”

He dwells on your words longer than he should have. You were nothing but a mythological made-up creature that he just so happened to befriend. There was nothing more, nothing less, so why did he get so jealous the more you talked about this dead guy? It annoyed him how you practically recited poetry in his honor.

“If it hurts that fuckin’ bad, stop talking about it.”

You purse your lips before smacking them. “Fine. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Or nothing at all.”

“When are you leaving?”

He doesn’t miss the hurt in your voice. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t want to look into them and get stuck in a place he can’t find himself out of. Every time he does, he gets sucked in, and he ends up making silly promises that he knows he can’t keep up for long. It's better this way to avoid his feelings. What was he thinking getting involved with a siren anyway? 

“The sails should be finished up in a couple days. After that, I’m going back to my kingdom.”

You’re scared that he’ll leave you. Before he even arrived, you knew that it was inevitable. Everyone always leaves and they never come back to visit. The rocks were so lonely and you could only sing for yourself for so long.

“Okay."

The couple days he mentioned was a complete lie. He ended up staying a few more weeks, which only dragged along the painful process of saying goodbye. Bakugou really wished that he could find the strength to rip off the bandage, but he couldn’t. He felt too attached and too close to you to risk losing it all. 

The ship’s sails are finally completed and his men are boarding, and there’s no sight of you. His heart sinks, disappointment and the lovesickness already settling in. He stalls while his crew loads up the ship with barrels of food and necessities, calling out for him but he runs. He runs to the only place he’ll find you.

On the other side of the rocks, like the dark side of the moon, he finds you sunbathing. Your hair is up in braids and your skin is kissed by the sun, orange tail gleaming with the rays bouncing off of the scales and onto the surface, like glitter. You’re beautiful to him, mythical creature or not. Half fish or half human, he saw you as what you were. You.

“(Y/N)!” He yells, your head snapping towards his direction in shock. Mouth agape, you watch in awe as he hops across the stone tops and reaches you, bending down and pulling your head into his chest.

“I don’t want this to be a goodbye,” he murmurs against the sound of the waves. “Come with me. You don’t have to stay here.”

“Katsuki,” you breathe, eyes brimming with relieved tears, but you cup his cheek in your palm, eyes searching for clarity. “I’ll go if you admit something to me.”

He doesn’t think twice about it, understanding completely, and only pressed his lips to yours, gentle and earnest. “I love you.”

You take a sharp breath in, eyes searching his for sincerity. Slowly, you nod, kissing him once more, and he takes you to his ship. Your tail transforms into legs in the absence of water and he wraps his fur-lined cape around you before introducing you to his band of hooligans. They all cheer with happiness that he’s finally found his mate, Kirishima slapping him on the back but he only shoves them away, ordering to get started and drags you away to his chambers before they can pester you any more. Along the way, you walk clumsily, only using your legs once or twice. It’d been a long time since you needed to.

Three weeks. Three joyous, laughter-filled and bright days that went by too quickly due to your entertaining presence. The ocean was calm and it was always sunny, the ship easy to steer and the journey much faster than the last. A wonderful memory that will be added on to more, while he spends his future with you, his wife.

Chapter Text

He had eyes like emerald gemstones centered in a field of brown speckles, and a warm and inviting smile that called to you. A silent plea that begged for you to come closer. To fall into his embrace. For him to call you mine .

You would see him in the long hallways, always dressed in a pristine black vest with a gold pocket watch attached to his chest, fitted black slacks and matching loafers. A dapper young man around your age but less more so like the generation today, like he had years of experience behind that gaze. His hair fell down in wispy and messy curls, a deep forest green and whenever he passed you by, a scent comparable to none other than sandalwood and vanilla.

You had spent so much time at this particular hotel that you might as well had worked there. The staff recognized you and gave you discounts on the available rooms and even gave you access to the wine cellar underneath the floorboards, behind this singular room in the very back of the first floor. You only went down there to retrieve your favorite flavor of wine, rose chardonnay, and brought it back to your room. The staff must have grown tired of fetching a glass after glass every evening hour.

You enjoyed being drunk in the night time. It helped you sleep and it made you see the world in a peculiar state of mind. Being a writer working on her next novel, you feel that every creator should have a means to make creativity appear. Your muse was the wine, and of course, the man you’d see in the hallways. A change of scenery had an immense affect on your writing as well, which was why you habitually wandered into this same hotel. The Hotel Delmano.

He seemed to linger on your floor longer than others, and in every nook and cranny you walked past, he was there like the Mona Lisa. His eyes constantly followed you everywhere. It wasn’t bothersome, and quite recently you find yourself staring back into his penetrating gaze. Those eyes drew you in and they captured your heart after a single day.

You asked the waitress who the man was, but she told you that no man as such existed. At least not in this hotel. You asked the bartender, and he dries a liquor glass with a towel, shaking his head. You asked the maids that entered your room to change your sheets and empty the trash, but they all say no, they’ve never seen a man like you described.

In the beginning, you thought that you were insane. That if nobody else saw him, it meant that he wasn’t real. He wasn’t tangible. He was a meager shadow. You blamed it on you being drunk. 

When you felt a pair of lips pressed against yours, a warm body hovering over your being, and your eyelashes flutter open and you see that same alluring speckled face, you were relieved. You relax into his embrace, letting his body engulf you and cage you in, giving yourself to him.

His kisses are lewd and needy, the malachite eyes behold your own as his mouth travels down your torso. From your neck to your collarbones, he peppers kisses downwards, leaving the cool air to melt into the exposed skin. He lifts up your top and kisses there as well, leaving wet rings around your stomach. It fills your core with anticipation and lust, not an unfamiliar feeling yet it feels brand new. Unexplored. Unconquered. With one swift movement he has your pajama shorts and panties pulled below your knees, reveling in the sight before him. Folds already glistening as he spreads your thighs apart, admiring and swiping his tongue over his teeth when he sends you a smile.

Your fingers clench the sheets by your side when his wet muscle meets the pink flesh, instantly transforming into a squirming and moaning mess as he works the sensitive bud, his lips puckering and sucking delicately, groaning at your sounds. 

He pulls back for a moment, a string of saliva traveling after his mouth. “You see what you do to me, (Y/N)? You have me at your beck and call.”

Black trousers are strained as he leans back, a hand on your ankle for balance and one hand cupping his clothed erection, and the thick outline causes your mouth to water at the sight. It didn’t cross your mind that he knew your name but you didn’t know his until now. As if he’d read your mind, he breaks the silence.

“Midoriya Izuku,” he blinks, eyes half lidded and he lifts a leg, the knee bending over his shoulder, slow and long fingers caressing the skin. “Say it,” he commands.

“Midoriya Izuku,” you repeat breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed. He hums and presses his pelvis into yours, rubbing himself upwards against your clit, creating an exhilarating friction as a response. 

You gripped the forest locks and yank him closer, moaning into his mouth, bucking your hips up to meet his. A strangled groan as if he’s holding back erupts from his throat, and he whispered, forehead touching your own. 

“You are so utterly divine. Say the words and I’ll be yours, I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

His quiet promise causes you to purr in response, a lazy grin growing and you hold him close, his ear just centimeters away. Like predator and prey, you both played a game unbeknownst to you but he was so aware. With intent, he set his sights on you from the very start. The moment you wandered into the luxurious hotel, you stood out, those inquisitive and doe eyes that captured his attention. Originally, he had set his greed elsewhere. Opting for a more reasonable victim, but you just seemed so celestial. So painstakingly difficult to ignore. Like God had crafted you with his own two hands, paying extra attention to the little details. He wanted his own slice of heaven, he wanted what he couldn’t have. Nobody but you would satisfy him. So he watched from the wallpaper, his presence hidden to everyone else. He craved the taste of your rose-colored lips, now he knew that they tasted of cherries and your skin smelled of chocolate from that of cocoa butter. Neither of which he would've known unless he acted on his intentions. 

“Take me,” you sighed, and so he did. Midoriya did as he was told, and along with him, he took your energy, your strength, and your desires, until all of them revolved around him and himself only.

It was like your own heaven and hell; you couldn’t have one without the other. He managed to entice you with one single glance and because of that, you didn’t know if you could continue. If life could return to normal. Since that night he claimed you, he tainted you with his mark. He told the world that you belonged to him, and he bound himself to you. Ravishing you every night, while every tenant was asleep. You couldn’t rest unless your body became filled with him, couldn’t breathe until he kissed life into you. For that, it was a blessing and a curse, but you told yourself it would get better. One day, he would forget about you, find a new host, find someone better. Yet it didn’t, and you found yourself not wanting it to. You liked it as it was, and what it always will be. 

Chapter Text

When Todoroki finally asked you out on a real date, not just one of those set-ups Mina had done before, but a real date, to say you were stoked was an understatement. The half and half boy was completely oblivious to your advances and hints, simply taking it as you being extremely friendly until Midoriya and Ochako pointed it out to him. Though it did take him a week or so to figure out his exact feelings for you, it all came together in the end, and here the two of you are. Strolling down the bustling streets of Hosu City with this one sukiyaki restaurant in mind, making small talk along the way with your arm linked with his.

Todoroki was never one for displays of affection. Even holding pinkies was a little bit more than he’d bargain for but you were always so overly touchy and gravitated towards his body, constantly feeling a need to feel him underneath your fingers. It was nice to be wanted for once, he supposed, and you provided that warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest that emerged whenever you did it. He didn’t mind it at all, in fact he welcomed it. His body felt barren without your presence against his.

With your cheek pressed into his left bicep, you can’y stop smiling from the warmth that radiates off of his skin like your own personal furnace. It comes especially in handy during snowy days like this one, the flakes falling into your hair and Todoroki blowing them off cutely while you shield yourself from the icy wind.

The pair of you have yet to kiss, and you yearn to feel that same heat against your lips, but you settle on nose and forehead kisses. Whenever he’s the one to initiate, they’re ghostly and lasted a mere second, while yours are longing and continuous. It’s give and take.

His hands are in his pockets while you cling on to him, and he’s content with listening to your rambling, softly grinning and offering a hum to let you know he’s paying attention. The little bubble of affection and comfort the two of you shared popped suddenly when a group of girls ran up towards you, with excited smiles and open arms like they were ready to pounce.

“Oh my gosh! It’s really you, Shouto-san!” One of them shouts, her fists bunching up in excitement while her friends follow. 

You are ultimately torn from your love interest and thrown to the side while they smother him, asking him for autographs and hugs and pictures. Your eyes narrow in annoyance when one girl presses her chest a little too close for your liking against his, her touch lingering for far too long. Your eyebrow twitches and you huff, crossing your arms and missing your little chimney already.

It pleases you and gives some solace when all Todoroki does is mumble short answers and retains his usual stoic expression reserved for strangers, indicating no interest in entertaining them for much longer. However, the group didn’t take the hints, and you glare at them. Oohing and awing at the pro hero while batting their eyelashes flirtatiously, even offering obscure suggestions. You couldn't stand to see them fawning over him like he was a fragile little rabbit at the pet store; as if he was everyone's to take. In your head, he was already yours. 

“Shouto-san, please take a selfie with me! Please please!” She whines, pouting to what you assume could be adorable if Todoroki hadn’t been so detached and completely unable to perceive another person's emotions. Thankfully, it wasn't the same for you. The poor boy didn’t really know better, did he?

So you take matters into your own hands, literally, when you pull his body close to yours and beam at them, already seeing the jealousy rise in their irises with a competitive flame. You made sure to rub your own chest against his arm, the limb now nestled between your cleavage, sending them a territorial stare but a polite tone as you speak. You don’t notice, but he peers down at the action and his mouth goes agape, cheeks now a rosy hue. So close.

“Sorry to interrupt your little fangirl session,” you smirk mockingly, letting them know that a fan is all they’ll ever be, “but we’re on a date right now and I’d like my Shouto-kun back!”

Giggling victoriously, you pull him along, leaving them to sulk in their loss of a handsome hero they’ll never have. You don’t let go of his arm, relishing in the heat once more and he’s still having trouble comprehending what just happened, until it finally clicks. 

“Please don’t feel jealous, (Y/N),” he murmurs, and once you meet his mismatched eyes he smiles down at you, stopping in front of the restaurant for a while longer. He stands in front of you, pulling you in by your waist, and you curse the puffy coat you’re wearing as it acts as a barrier for the real contact you desire. In an act of intimacy, Todoroki grabs your fur lined hood and pulls it over your head, holding his hands at the edges and lifting you closer to his beautiful face. You reach out and touch the scar gently and he sighs, his breath creating a tiny cloud from the cold.

“I have no interest in anyone else. It will always be you.”

You grin up sweetly, and he gently tugs you closer until your lips brush against his, the warmth you crave spreading throughout your entire body as you wrap your arms around his torso. Large hands cup your face as he holds you tenderly against him, and gradually he stops until the kisses become pecks and he leads you inside.

Although to anyone else it may not seem like much, but the act made your heart swell and face flush shyly, and continued for the duration of the evening, with you feeding him bites from your sukiyaki bowl and him holding your hand from across the table, caressing his thumb over the knuckles with a serene smile.

Chapter Text

Shit. Shit, shit, shit! As if this mission couldn’t have got any worse, it did. You couldn’t let the villains currently after your hide know that they had you in quite the sticky situation. You sprint through the half empty streets, the civilians already moving to the side to make room for you, but you send a reassuring grin their way to let you know all is well, or all will be well. Funny, they never thought they’d see the day where a supposed hero is running away from the villains.

Three of them chase after you, cursing after you for exposing their hideout. Truth be told, you didn’t need to explicitly go to the abandoned hospital. Your boss didn’t say it was required. You just wanted to for a little extra adrenaline rush. The sound-absorbent shoes that you had specifically made accordingly to your quirk, to prevent circumstances like this from happening, ended up being your betrayer. You should really take them into the shop; the sole probably rubbed off too much.

Regardless, you were here now, stuck between a rock and a hard place, until a pair of hands abruptly grab your torso and you’re soaring off into the air as fast as wind. You recognize those hands better than anyone else’s, and you grin knowingly, though you could at least try to look a little ashamed. After all, this would be around the third time this month this had happened. Maybe you weren’t as sharp as you used to be in your teen years. Still, you sought after excitement in any way you could and by any means necessary, the more danger you put yourself into the better off you’d be. 

As soon as you land on the concrete rooftop of a nearby building, your savior takes off again, swooping below your line of sight and you can only imagine the type of scolding you’ll be receiving when he returns. It makes you giggle but you promise yourself you’ll try to be embarrassed this time.

You make yourself comfortable on the hard and somewhat cold cement, an arm slung over your bent knee as the other stretches out in front of you, and you wait patiently. Screams of agony resonate from what you imagine to be the three stooges along with the slice of a particularly sharp feather.

In less than ten minutes, the winged hero is back and wears a playful glare on his handsome features. You pout remorsefully, twiddling with your thumbs, and he sighs, pushing up his visor and rubbing his eyes. You know he doesn’t mind at all, he just wants to put up a show for you, knowing good and well that you’ll be at it again in a week.

“How many times am I gonna have to keep saving your ass, Gamma?” He uses your hero name as he scolds you, crouching down to your level, forearms balanced on his knees.

“I promise I won’t do it again, Hawks!” Your eyebrows furrow like a child getting caught in a lie, cheeks puffed out in an effort to look innocent. Man, you were getting good at this act. It worked like a charm.

“We both know that’s bullshit,” he cackles, grabbing your hand in his own and pulling you into a hug. “One of these days you’re really gonna get hurt, ya know. I might not always be there.”

“But yet you always are,” you hum cheerily. You were right. Each and every time this had occurred he had always swooped in and saved you again and again, and you knew he’d do it many more if he had to. You poke his nose affectionately, and you sit on his lap. Your legs are enclosed around his waist and his legs are elongated underneath you. All he can do is kiss your puckered lips and you smile happily, because he knows you’re right.

“You really suck major ass at sneaking around.”

“Hey!” You whine when he flicks your forehead, slapping his hand away and he smirks. “It’s my shoes, chicken nugget! They started squeaking outta nowhere.”

He arches a brow doubtfully, but nonetheless he wraps his arms around you, again taking off towards the sky and towards the direction of his loft. You squint from the brightness of the sun; maybe you should consider getting some sunglasses or something. A couple static voices from his headset are muffled as he flies through the air, and he tries to make conversation with you. Complaining about his day, how it was so long and tiresome and you almost felt bad for taking time out of the number 2 hero’s day for your own reckless behavior, almost . You could only stay away from him for so long before you grew lonely.

Now, cozied up in bed, you scratch behind his ears as he rests, well-deserved in your own opinion, but it’s short-lived since he has to depart again in the morning. Usually before you woke up and began your own day, which started at around 9 AM sharp. Yes, it is incredibly less demanding than Hawks’ job. No, you weren’t going to admit to yourself that the villains your boyfriend fights get more action than you do. Deny. Deny. Deny.

You play with his feathers as he snores quietly into your hair, running a finger along the wispy edges and down to the base where you rub softly. He coos in response like a baby dove, and you grin, nuzzling your cheek on top of his head. If your evenings were going to be spent like this every time you got yourself into trouble, Hawks was going to have an adrenaline junkie as a girlfriend.

Chapter Text

A black face mask with smiling pointy teeth hooks around Dabi’s pierced ears. The smell of sweat and liquor and the sound of the heavy bass that blares over the sea of people confirm that he’s in the right place; Womb Nightclub. He slides into a chair at the bar, waving down the bartender and asks for a whiskey on the rocks, and he waits. Scanning the crowd, he glances up at the second floor. The VIP lounge is cornered at the left, overlooking the first floor. Glass surrounds it and it appears to be tinted for privacy, bars encasing the perimeter. Lined with security. Invite only. He twists around on the stool, an arm hung over the counter as he sips his drink, azure eyes searching for you to make your appearance.

He'd been to a lot of parties every now and then. Mixers, cocktails, and birthdays, even raves. Some with people he didn't know and some with people he did. You'd always accompany him, and he'd always tailgate you, because you were the life of the party. Dancing seemed to be your forte and he liked to watch you perform in front of him, but he'd prefer it if it was only the two of you, not in front of an audience. Looking back on it, that'd probably be how he met you. With an over-sized sweatshirt and transparent leggings, probably off molly or MDMA, at a rave a couple years back. He didn't know you nor recognize you, but he wanted to the second your eyes met. Giggling maniacally, drugged stupor, dancing the night away like you'd die if you didn't. He wanted the craziness in his life because he felt like it wasn't enough, it could never be enough. 

He had no idea how you got into the business. With Shigaraki, he seemed to be content with having a small group of elites, always turning people away, like if he bit off more than he could chew it'd drive him mad. Kurogiri found you roaming the streets, escaping your abusive ex-boyfriend and succumbing to the homeless shelters. Not knowing where to go next, traveling place to place, rooming with friends. Your eyes weren't like how they used to be. They were bloodshot and tired, clinging on to what life they had left in them, but they were still beautiful. You had always been beautiful. The second Dabi had found out about your past, he was already at your ex's door, burning his apartment complex down and leaving satisfied that the bastard wouldn't hurt you anymore. 

The neon lights alternate between yellow, blue, green, purple and pink until they pulse quickly and change the sequence. He watches it for a while before he makes eye contact by accident with a man upstairs, a hand with gold rings stacked until each knuckle gliding across the railing, wearing a crisp black suit and sunglasses. Dabi’s stare narrows and he snaps his head away when a cheery voice enters his ears. You drape an arm over his shoulders and pull him into an embrace, the smell of your perfume intoxicating him by the second. Shit. He eyes your outfit, expecting something a little bit more fitting for a nightclub, but you wear the usual. Fishnets, plaid black and white skirt with a grey turtleneck that might he dare say really emphasized your assets. The only thing that may have been altered from your day-to-day style would be the black chunky heels. You pout teasingly when you run a finger down the bridge of his covered nose.

“What’s wrong? You mad I didn’t dress up for you?”

He bites his lip underneath the mask and he wants to tug it down and kiss you, but he just rolls his eyes. “At least I tried to look unrecognizable.”

You snort, “Please. You still look like the same edgy bad boy that everyone knows and loves.”

He arches a brow and glances down at his own fit. A simple red and grey flannel over a black tee and the same pair of ripped jeans he wore every other day. Maybe he didn’t really try that hard. You blink down at him and run your hands down the buttons before sliding back up to the collar. 

“Hey, we’re matching,” he points out, running his thumb along the hem of your skirt, a warm hand on your upper thigh. You grin mischievously and move it to your waist, lips maneuvering their way under his dark fringe to his ear, “Come dance with me.”

He follows you out into the group of people, all sweaty and laughing and for a moment he’s a bit revolted by the smell. Damn, people really do this every weekend? Couldn’t be him. You tug on his hand, ushering him to the middle of the floor and you wrap your arms around his neck. The music switches to a dance-punk from the sultry rock it was playing when he first arrived, and the two of you dance. Granted, Dabi had never been a good dancer, so he just allows you to take the lead. You face away from him and he watches intently, already wanting to get this shit over with so he could have you to himself back at home. His hand trails down your back as you bend forward, ass rubbing against his crotch as you sway to the bass. He grabs your hips when you face him again, and man, he wants to kiss you. Not now, not when you’re both so close. Another man with sunglasses taps you on the shoulder and you raise a questioning brow. He invites you to the VIP section upstairs and you happily accept, leaving Dabi to complete the rest of the plan.

He snakes his way through the drunken crowd and returns to his seat at the bar, the ice already melting and the glass leaves a wet ring on the wooden table top. He sips it anyway, but then cringes when it tastes more watered down than what he thought.

“That’s what happens when you don’t chug your whiskey right away,” a voice purrs next to him. He glances over to see a woman with blonde hair swept over one eye, the other a serpent-like green. She smiles faintly and moves to touch his face but he snatches her wrist, causing her to giggle. “Aww, don’t be mean. I just wanna get to know you a little better.”

He grimaces, if only the woman could see how disgusted he really is underneath the mask. 

“Cute teeth,” she leans in, “Do they bite?”

“You don’t wanna find out,” he says coldly, not even bothering to look at her anymore. He hopes that she takes the hint but of course not, she just keeps pushing.

“I think I do, handsome, if I’m asking.”

He sees you laughing at whatever the man upstairs is saying, your arms holding onto the rail as the man sips his drink, not once taking his eyes off of you. Dabi can hear the whole conversation and it makes him sick. The man truly held no shame whatsoever but regardless, you’ll be going home with him, and he won’t be going home at all. 

He taps the earpiece hidden behind a tuft of hair, mumbling, “Do we got him?”

“Mhmmm,” followed by another burst of a giggle is his response, so he leaves his spot at the bar and commences phase two.

Your eyes darken when this filth of a man stares you down, grinning lustfully as he sends his men off. You keep up the facade and grin back. Now you’re finally alone. They didn’t even pat you down, what a silly rookie mistake.

You rake a hand down his chest, running along too many gold chains and a silk button up shirt. Now behind him you lean over his shoulder, arms hanging over and he keeps on rambling, not even paying attention. Another mistake.

You unsheathe the dagger stored in your arm wrap, hidden under the long sleeves and press the edge into his neck, not allowing him enough time to even say a word. It’s quick and is over in seconds, your hands already wiping the knife clean on his jacket that’s hung over a chair, and you make your way to the guards. The blue flames are already beginning to engulf the bottom half of the floor, crawling up the walls and people are shrieking and trying to escape. It almost makes you laugh; you know they can’t leave. When you reach the men in suits, you pivot on one foot and dodge their advances until you get all of them, a nice and simple stab wound in the middle of their chest, breaking past the sternum and into their heart. Once again, you clean your weapon and move to the fire escape just in time before the flames tag you.

Police sirens and the firetrucks’ bell echo in the background as you two sprint between buildings, until you’re safe in a back alley where the stench of dumpster juice and garbage taints the air. You recoil into Dabi’s arms, the sirens slowly fading away into the distance as the cars speed by, the red and blue flights flickering over your faces.

He smells like burnt ash and smoke and it travels behind him when he follows you into your apartment. You sneer at him when he unhooks his mask and tosses it on the counter. Crossing your arms and leaning on one leg, you inquire playfully, “Cute teeth. Do they bite?”

He pouts before he bursts into a short chuckle, snatching you up by your waist and throwing you over your shoulder, smacking you on your ass and carrying you to the bedroom.

“You know they do.”

Chapter Text

Study, study, study. Ever since elementary that was all you knew how to do best. That was it; no social life, no friends’ birthday parties, no hanging out on the weekends. It wasn’t that your parents forced you, it was just because of a goal you really wanted to reach. Call it insane, but that was all you needed to make you focus. Having a good career and a large sum of income was a promising future, if you said so yourself. Nobody else really saw the point in putting your all in something, but you liked controlling the outcome and knowing you have that control.

There were a few other people in your class that were confused as to why you refused so many offers to date. To hang out. To do anything else other than study. They stopped after a week of trying. Instead of making friends, you occupied yourself with algebra homework in the library. It was quiet and safe from any background noise that would otherwise distract you, but of course that was too much to ask for on this particular day.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, why’re you hiding from me?” A whiny voice contrasts against the usual silence of the library, and you look up from your papers scattered on the table and see a pair of annoyed yellow eyes. He takes a seat next to you, leaning down on the table and crossing his arms, glancing over at your work.

“Come on, stop studying already! I wanna go get tonkotsu! Ton-kot-su! Ton-kot-su!” Kaminari sings and pokes at your forehead.

“No,” you reply bluntly, scribbling away at writing numbers.

You’d met him back during the beginning of the school year after he ended up suspended for beating up a group of boys that were being bullied. Always known for being overly arrogant and a troublemaker, everyone became scared of him and nobody cared to befriend him. You were the only one who bothered to show up at his house to bring him his missed schoolwork, seeing no issue with what he did, since his heart was in the right place. Just probably not the right course of action.

Normally for other people it would be considered a simple gesture, one out of kindness and not an invitation to stalk someone. He took it the other way, however, and out of nowhere he confessed his feelings for you after following you for a few weeks. Well, not completely out of nowhere. After overhearing his other alleged friends talk badly about him behind his back, you stood up to them, saying that they should apologize and learn to be decent people. That could have rendered his misconstrued feelings, otherwise it didn’t make sense to you. Developing feelings for someone he didn’t even know.

“Please! It’s cold out and I want some!”

His eyes blink cutely up from his slouched position and you avert your eyes to the books again, suddenly feeling hot. It’d been five months since school had began. Four months since his romantic affections had started, and now it was going on one week since you recognized that you returned his feelings. You didn’t know how to deal with them.

You close your books shut and put them away in your bag, slinging it over your shoulder without a glance at him.

“Let’s go,” you mutter. He simply stares at you dumbfounded before scattering after you. He probably didn’t even think about what would happen next if you were to say yes.

He wiggles in his seat excitedly, and you sit across from him. The steaming bowls of ramen in front of you, yakisoba and his tonkotsu that he wanted so dearly. He holds out his chopsticks to you with some noodles with the clear intention of feeding you. Blushing, you open your mouth warily and he shoves it in, nearly causing you to choke.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” He beams at you before continuing to shovel it into his mouth. You deadpan. So much for a romantic gesture. At least it saved you the embarrassment if it had gone in a different direction. No. No, no, no, no! Don’t think about that. Too late.

“Y-yeah. Can I get a pork cutlet bowl and curry rice?” You call out to a passing waiter and he nods a reply.

Slurping your noodles hurriedly as an attempt to busy your mind from anything else, and he perks up in surprise. “You eat a lot.”

He walks you home. He’s been doing that a lot recently; any reason to spend more time with you is good. That, and he hates saying goodbye. Sometimes he’s gone for a few days before he sees you again. Ever since his confession you’d been nothing short of a mess in your head. Always thinking about it, overthinking the littlest things, even getting jealous. He’d been getting into fights because of boys that had been simply trying to talk to you. Using any excuse to get away from him and study.

Perhaps you overworked yourself. Maybe the thoughts were consuming you until you had no brain power left, and you passed out because of it. On the roof of the school building, looking up towards the sky, a beautiful bright blue with a few clouds gliding by, is where you find yourself. You don’t remember coming here but you don’t complain, until a familiar face comes into the view.

He smiles down at you like one would at a lover and again, you blush before abruptly sitting upwards. You grunt when he simply brings you back towards his lap, and be caresses your hair, running his fingers through the strands.

“U-um, how long have I been asleep?”

“Well, it’s 2 PM now,” he trails off. Your eyes widen.

“Lunch is over, I’m missing class,” you sigh worriedly. Suddenly, it doesn’t seem like a big deal the more he pets your head. After all, if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have known what the afternoon sky would look like. You don’t know what happened, or what caused you to say next, but you found it being brought up your throat involuntarily.

“I’m happy that we met, Kaminari.”

A slight pink tints his cheeks and he grins brightly.

“Me too.”

Now summer break, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You considered taking a few summer classes just to get ahead, taking the same goal in mind with you, but he rendered it futile and wanted to go to the beach. You know why you agreed, and it was a chance to see him in swimming trunks. There was no need to lie to yourself. That, and seeing him happy made you happy.

You follow after him as he runs to an ice cream truck, and grabs a popsicle for both you and him. Mina and Sero join you guys in the sand, already slathering sunscreen on each other.

“Hey, hey! They have surfboards! Let’s go, hurry!” She shouts, pumping her fists up in the air. You don’t know how to surfboard, nor do you want to find out. You’d rather sit in your lounge chair and read a book over trigonometry. Kaminari grins at you excitedly, but whines cutely when you tell him that you won’t be joining him.

“Fine, I’ll stay here with you!”

He makes himself comfortable on a towel next to you and you pull out your book. He was always making sacrifices for you, and it made you feel guilty. A couple times he’d wanted to go on the huge Ferris wheel at the fair, and to the new skating rink, and to the zoo, all of which you had denied for your own sake of wanting to study. You close it, and reach for his hand without looking him in the eyes.

“If you want to go, it’s okay, Kaminari.”

He shakes his head earnestly. “No.”

You scowl before brushing the hair out of your face, and take a bite out of your popsicle. “You want to do it, right? Let’s go.”

Mina and Sero are already splashing around in the water, the wristbands connected to the boards as they wait for the next wave. Kaminari skips happily, still holding onto your hand, and scoops you up as he runs into the water.

You flinch when the cold hits you, but he laughs, and for the moment that’s all that matters.

He walks you home. You’re quiet on the way back, lost in your own thoughts before he cuts in, calling out your name to make sure you’re listening. His face is too close and his smile is so handsome. Why does he keep doing this? He probably enjoys making you suffer.

“I’m done,” you mumble, fists clenched. He blinks in surprise, and digs his hands in his pockets, leaning back so he can look at you properly. Cheeks flushed, tips of your ears red, eyebrows furrowed and you look incredibly cute to him. This is how you got him the first time.

“Kaminari,” you breathe out shakily, staring at the ground shyly before looking him straight in the eyes. “I love you.”

His reaction mimics your own; you can’t believe you just said it out loud. That makes it more real. His mouth curls into a grin and he gleams down at you, pulling you closer by your shoulders. His lips meet your own in a soft kiss and you feel your eyes close, before Mina interrupts in loud cheers.

“See, Sero! I told you this would happen!”

“Shut up.”

It’s winter. You stare out the window of the classroom and watch the snowflakes fall, chin in your palm as your group of friends continue talking behind you. Kaminari leans against your desk and blocks your notebook and pens. They all are talking about the culture festival that takes place where the students dress up and hold cafes and activities in their classroom. All you can think about is studying.

Finals came and went and you were first in your class, but it didn’t seem like much to you. It only made you feel worse. Kaminari grinned at you and gave you a large hug, but even that didn’t help.

You sit pensively, tapping your mechanical pencil on your desk in a rhythm, spinning it between your thumb and index finger. Even though you confessed, nothing had changed. The relationship stayed the same and you both just went along with it, but you found yourself thinking what the point of it all was, if it just ended up like this.

“Kaminari,” you say sternly, causing him to hum a reply. “D-do you have a minute?”

With Christmas approaching, you had thoughtfully made simple gifts for the people you cared about the most. Over the years you thought that exchanging gifts was bothersome and a waste of time. If people wanted something, they should save up and buy it, not the other way around. You wait out in the hallway, some students pass by and you tap your toe on the tile nervously, fiddling with the wrapped box in your hands. He joins you after ending the conversation with Sero and pokes his head out, leaning on the wall next to you.

“I-I wanted to give you this,” you say softly, jutting the box towards him. He shakes it, humming with interest and smiles at you while he opens it. A bracelet made of blue string and multicolored beads make him eye it in wonder. “I know it isn’t much, but I made it.”

“I love it!” He grins, sliding it onto his wrist. You pull up your sleeves and reveal the same one, only smaller.

“Yours has the first letter of my name, mine has a K,” you blush. “We’re matching.”

He grasps both of your hands in his own, mock tears in his eyes. “I’ll never take it off, (Y/N). I love you!”

“Y-yeah…”

He walks you home again. It was becoming a routine at this point. He rambles about how people complimented his bracelet and he explained to them that you are his, and he is yours, and you find yourself smiling because finally, after all this time, you know where you stand. You know that this wasn’t for nothing. You know that it was worth it.

Chapter Text

Hawks wasn’t aware of the fact that they had a new office girl. That said a lot, considering it was his own agency. Nobody bothered to run it by him to see if they actually needed help around the place and he doesn't remember even requesting extra assistance, but he wasn’t one to dwell on it for long. Especially now that he’d seen you.

He watches you with curious eyes and an amused smirk as you scurry around his office, placing a coffee on his desk with steam feathering up from the cup, and organize the papers scattered on his desk. Now, personally, he liked having a messy work space. In his eyes, it made things easier to see and locate and it wasn’t like he really wanted to look at those meaningless things. All it would end up being is applications upon applications, which seemed rather important but he was very picky in regards to recruitment. That would explain his irritation for not being the one to interview you for himself, and he sure as hell missed that opportunity. 

You take a step back to look at the now neat and clean desk and sigh, clasping your hands together with the tiniest simper of a smile. Then, you stride towards the giant window that looks out towards the skyline. You stand there admiring the view, and so does he. Despite wearing black heels, you still appear to be shorter than him, which he found cute. You wear a white blouse with frills adorning the buttons, and a plain grey skirt that frames your curves in all the right places, and he thought that compared to his own outfit, you were either overdressed or he was under-dressed. Either way, you looked damn good. He spends a questionable amount of time gazing at your ass and your legs.

So much time that he didn’t even notice that you now face him with a hand on your chest in shock and he flinches when he makes eye contact with you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were in here,” you pace towards him with an embarrassed smile. He swallows hard, truly underestimating just how beautiful you’d be. “My name’s (Y/N), I’ll be helping around the office! It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Hawks.”

Your voice is as sweet as the perfume that reaches his nose when you reach out to shake his hand. “No need for the formalities, dove.” You blush slightly at the nickname and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “Just call me Hawks,” he grins, and you nod happily. His hand lingers longer than it should have and you glance between the intertwined limbs and him, but he doesn't take the hint. Your whole body flares up and you didn't expect your boss to be this friendly and... delicious.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to introduce myself,” he motions over to his desk, slumping into the rolling chair with a relaxed huff. “This past week’s been pretty hectic.”

“I understand,” you hum, rubbing your arm nervously. “If there’s anything you need, though, don’t hesitate to ask me!”

He lifts his feet up onto the desk and waves two fingers at you, “I’ll see you around.”

You make a sound of agreement and take your leave, hips sashaying out of the room and he finds himself staring again.

Around the office there wasn’t that much to do. In all honesty, you didn’t even need to be there for extra help but he was going to make use of you somehow, so he upgraded you to be his new assistant. Running errands, organizing his office space which you seemed to enjoy, receiving phone calls in his absence and replying to emails. It became pretty mundane but he loved seeing you walk in and out of his office, and he grew to like you as more than just his assistant. That showed in daily conversation. He would throw in a couple of flirtatious comments about what you’re wearing, how you smell, that you’re cute, and nearly everyday he made a goal to get you to blush at least once. Every now and then you would retort with your own flirty comeback, and he loved it. All the pining, the sexual tension buildup, all led to his feelings increasing by the day.

Usually, he wouldn’t bother to use his quirk for such a little occurrence, but he couldn’t help it. Seeing you by the coffee machine being chatted up by one of your coworkers, probably about something lame like office supplies, yet deep down he felt a little...betrayed. You were laughing along at what he assumed to be a joke, and when the guy placed his hand on your shoulder, something inside him told Hawks to do something about it, so he did. He plucked a small feather off of his wings and sent it flying through the air, just to get underneath the hem of your skirt and pull you away from him. The force surprised you, and you stumbled backwards, using the table to stabilize you before you’re pulled further away, in the direction of Hawks’ office.

He shuts the door behind you and you blink at him in confusion, reaching underneath your skirt and pulling out the feather. “You did that?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, scratching his neck sheepishly with a sliver of a smirk. “Sorry! I guess I got a little jealous.”

You don’t miss the way his chocolate eyes turn dark, and you smirk at him. “Aww, come on. There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

You were right, there really wasn’t, especially because he knew of the growing crush on your boss and might he dare say, it was reciprocated at least tenfold. That was clear the minute he caught you in his office. Holding the feather close to your face, you blow on it and it makes him shudder. That catches your eye, so you go the extra mile to tease him, gently kissing the tip of the feather. And there’s that reaction you’re looking for. A deep blush tints his cheeks and you giggle, eyes not leaving from one another. Hawks can’t believe it; he hasn’t even kissed you yet and his feather gets the honors of doing so. He leans back on his desk and chuckles lowly.

You saunter over and hold it out to him with a firm grip, and he uses it to tug you towards him. “That’s very cute of you, dove.”

“I know. Serves you right considering you tease me every day I see you.”

His eyes become lidded the closer you get to him, and he can smell that sweet scent of yours again. “I tease you, huh? I don’t recall doing that,” he replied airily.

You hum, and he leans in without realizing, and you chuckle softly and gently push him away by the forehead. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Hawks, as much as I want to.”

Oh?  “I’m your boss, aren’t I?” He lifts a brow and pouts, “I thought you were my assistant.”

“I am! That’s exactly why I think it’s not a good idea,” you laugh coyly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well, what if I need your assistance elsewhere?” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glimmering up at you, hoping that you take the hint and bite the bait.

You tap your finger on your chin thoughtfully, mumbling, “What would that be?”

He grabs your hand and places it on his cheek, pressing a kiss into your palm and you breathe out shallowly, eyes hooked on his actions. His free hand cups your cheek, feeling warmth spread beneath his fingertips as he travels to your bottom lip, inserting a finger into your mouth cautiously. You take it with ease, sucking gently on the tip and nipping on the pad, sending lustful waves straight to his pelvis. Your tongue swirls around it and when he removes it, string of saliva follows after it and that’s when he can’t take it anymore. So he pushes himself up to meet your lips with his own, bending down to your height and hands gripping your hips. Like a magnet, you gravitate towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, moving your mouth in sync with his. 

There’s a knock at the door and he grunts bitterly but goes to answer it anyway as you stand there innocently, a facade for whoever was interrupting your one on one time with your handsome boss.

“You’re needed for patrol, sir,” the man says, adjusting the clipboard in his hands. His glasses slant forward on his nose and he looks a bit disoriented.

“How many times do I gotta tell you not to call me that? I’ll be down in a sec.”

The man nods and briskly walks away, the door shutting with a click and you’re left alone with him again. You admit that you were disappointed; more than once you found yourself fantasizing about him having his way with you in the office, bending you over his desk and making a mess out of you. It happened so often that you think he noticed the way that you pressed your thighs together whenever he smiled at you, passing by your little cubicle and being excruciatingly fine as always. Even the tiniest twinges of jealousy would hit when Miruko would hop into the floor, but even you knew that it was simply friendly banter that was nothing more and nothing less.

“What’s with that look?” Hawks grins, cupping your face with both hands to bring your sight up to him. Veering into your ear, nibbling on the lobe and you intake a sharp breath. “You want more, is that it?”

Soft laughter graces your ears when you meekly nod and again, you find a familiar knot forming between your thighs. He grabs his jacket and visor and hooks his index finger under your chin, still smiling. “We’re not done here, sweetheart.”

“Be safe, Hawks.”

“You got it.” With a two finger salute, he’s out the door, leaving you to collect yourself and head out for the day.

He doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that when he's alone after a particularly long and hard day, he'd prefer it if he had someone there to relieve him of pent up stress. Preferably you. It confuses him to be so enamored with someone he only knew at a surface level, and he was a disbeliever of love at first sight. Maybe lust, but definitely not love. But he did like you, he really did. So much so that he found himself dipping a hand beneath his boxer shorts, laying flat on his back with one knee bent and the other outstretched. Already so damn hard just at the mere thought of you and that first kiss you shared. Damn, he's a grown ass man and you got him feeling like a high school kid with a crush experiencing puberty all over again. 

The next week was filled with sneaky kisses and light ass grabs by Hawks, and of course, the rise of even more pent up sexual frustration. He didn’t make it easy for you, either. Occasionally you’d walk by the large glass window of the meeting room, where he sat rather boredly, an arm slung over the back of the chair casually, before his eyes perked up from seeing you, swiping a pink tongue across his teeth as he flashed a grin. Then, every time you’d even talk to your male colleagues for a simple thing like needing paperclips, he was there to remind you who you unofficially belonged to. You knew it, he knew it, and it was only a matter of time for one of you to jump the other in a frenzy.

It just so happened that today would be that day. It was a Friday, so everyone in the office was eager to leave early for their plans during the weekend, rendering the entire floor nearly empty, if it weren’t for you two. Hawks had only requested you to stay for an hour past the usual to sort through some paperwork. He honestly didn’t plan on it happening today, but when you came into work with a white button up shirt tucked into a tight black skirt, black transparent tights and black heels, you struck an unintended fire inside of him. The tights elongated your legs and his eyes couldn’t stop trailing up and down the seams. When he spotted you hiking your skirt up to scratch your thigh mindlessly, he noticed that they weren’t just tights, they were thigh-highs, with dainty lace detail at the top. Yeah, he was pretty much already fucked.

Now, he had you all to himself. Nobody else to interrupt, and all the time in the world to unravel you into a whimpering mess.

You’re straddling his lap, skirt above your hips, your mouth leaving wet kisses on his neck and jaw, his arms holding you steady and he untucks your shirt and a few buttons. He wondered if you planned this all along, coming into his office dressed like the sexy assistant you were. You grind lightly against his crotch, already growing harder by the second. Breathy groans release from his mouth before you capture his lips again, moving faster against the sensation. Feeling his member strained in his jeans against your clit had you whimpering as your tongue swirled with his.

A loud knock came from the door and you two freeze, and he quickly pushes you below his desk, scooting his chair forward to hide you. The person who knocked didn’t need permission to enter, it seems, because the door opened a few moments later. Hawks anticipated that happening, and you were somewhat thankful because now, you were facing the large bulge in his pants. Grinning devilishly, you palm it gently before running a finger down the length.

“Endeavor! I didn’t, uh, expect you this late!” Hawks laughs anxiously, his legs moving in and out to get you to stop.

“I could say the same to you. I just wanted to drop off some paperwork that your assistant requested. She emailed me and said she was still here, but I assume she left.” A stack of papers lands on the desk with a smack.

“You could have faxed it over…” Hawks mutters through gritted teeth. You rub him harder, reaching through his pockets and gripping the length at a rather awkward angle, but you wanted a feel, and you wanted to make him struggle. That makes the hero cough awkwardly, a shaky breath entering through his open mouth.

Endeavor raises a brow but doesn’t bother to question it, only waving his hand and taking his leave. “See you Monday, Hawks. Make sure she gets those.”

He waits a few moments before rushing up and locking the door for safety measures, and he twists around to see you brushing off your legs from paper shavings that were on the floor, cleavage practically bursting at the seams of your blouse. Walnut eyes narrow back at your smiling face playfully.

“Did you enjoy that?” He sauntered over to you as you blink up at him, biting back a laugh. “Are you gonna finish the job or what?” He whispers against your neck, and your hands were already fiddling with his belt and yanking down his zipper, him shrugging off his jacket and tossing that and his shirt on the floor. Nimble hands cascade down muscular arms and shoulders and he rests his forehead against yours, watching you trace down his well-defined abdomen. 

You sink to your knees, tugging down his boxers and his cock bounces upwards. His hands grip the edge of the table while you work him, your mouth engulfing his length as much as you could, spreading your spit along the area you could cover and using your hand to get the rest. With hollowed cheeks, you suck while rising, humming happily as he grips your hair. The groans he makes are angelic; throaty and needy, searching for release. 

Abruptly, he pulls away as soon as you swallow a few times making you gaze up at a panting mess, his eyes closed and mouth hanging open. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes heavily, and you grunt when he sits you up on his desk, your panties being yanked below your knees and he sits up in his chair, admiring your open legs. He blows cool air on the exposed glistening flesh and you bend back, using your palms for support. Your back arches without him even having to touch you.

Hands massage your inner thighs, his breath becoming hotter the closer he gets, until his mouth closes around your clit, sucking harshly. You cry out softly, giving up and just laying back on the hard surface to thoroughly enjoy it. His tongue darts out to rub against the sensitive bud, and a long finger is inserted in you. He curls it against the ribbed underside, and you moan as he increases his speed, bringing you closer to the brink with each brush of his tongue and beckoning of his finger.

A deep huff escapes your mouth when he pulls away, and your eyes flutter open in discontent. Sweat began to bead at your forehead and you try to correct your breathing.

Hawks licks his lips before rolling them into his mouth, and sucks on his finger to clean it. “You know,” he draws out, “ever since I saw you in here, the very first day we met, I dreamed of you being bent over my desk.”

You laugh weakly, “That’s funny, because I thought the same.”

“Really? Why don’t we bring that fantasy to life then, turtle dove.”

You slide off of the surface just to relax face first against it, your ass tilted upwards and back arched, wiggling to entice him even more and he smirks, lining up with your entrance and eases himself into you. With a long drawn out groan, you attempt meet his thrusts but it grows difficult as he gains momentum. His fingers weave into your hair and he pulls at the nape, and he moans, filling you up to the hilt, delightfully stretching you out to meet his girth.

“Ah, you take me so well, chickadee,” he purrs out, his grasp on your waist tightening. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

You could only manage a hum of approval as he continues, skin slapping against skin rapidly and his hands grab your wrists, holding them behind your back. “The real question is, am I gonna let you cum?”

You whimper and beg, “P-please!”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he murmurs tauntingly, his free hand massaging a cheek of your ass before he smacks it roughly. It stings and causes your face to scrunch up in discomfort. “You don’t sound like you wanna cum.”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, I do! Please let me cum, Hawks, please!”

He grins lazily before his hand releases your wrists and reaches in front of you to rub your clit once more. “That’s a good girl,” he coos, the rhythmic flicks of his thumb making you whine out his name, the word falling off of your lips like a chant before you become utterly undone. The knot in your pelvis expands until it tingles throughout your whole body, the feeling leaving you tired and breathless yet euphoric. Soon after, Hawks follows suit, still sheathed inside of you, pumping himself in a daze until he’s sure nothing is left. He places a kiss on your clothed shoulder and realizes he never got to see your boobs. Oh well, maybe next time in a more private location, like his loft.

You slowly stand, adjusting your skirt and top, swiping a tissue between your folds to clean up the leaking substance before studying the now disorganized work space, to which you frown. “Man, I just cleaned this up today, too.”

He reaches around and pecks your cheek, chuckling , “Don’t worry, I like it messy.”

You can’t help but wonder whether or not he was talking about the desk.

Chapter Text

An outbreak of an unknown virus had set an plague into the entirety of the world. Just a simple slip, somebody’s mistake but there was no face to the name. The news called it ‘SANS’. Nobody knew where it derived from, the origin, only deeming it dangerous and the metropolis you resided in was now under lockdown. Multiple people had dropped dead or fell ill on the brink of it, some barely scraping by. Hospitals had no idea what to make of it, how to treat it and doctors scrambled into finding a cure. It was apparent that after the first year, there would be no savior elixir or antibiotic. Whatever was out there, was out to kill, to take as many victims as it could and drag them to their graves.

Loiterers had taken advantage of the situation, with you being one of the many that scavenged through old convenience stores, searching for what little portions of food and medication you could find. Weaponry was scarce and it was almost a privilege to have it. Luckily, your sword and pistol had come quite in handy, and you didn’t so much as sleep without it being loaded.

It was unknown what the virus caused. The symptoms were vague and only told to those that asked, the government no longer giving out information without a price. This is what turned the whole city into a chaotic apocalypse in the first place. People who civilians entrusted turned their backs on those they promised to protect, now only caring for themselves. Everyone followed suit, splitting up into teams of three or more, or some roamed the streets alone. That was what you preferred to do, not that you had much of a choice. As soon as the pandemic began, everyone you once knew was now separated. Your friends, your family, your neighbors. All living and fending for themselves like the rest of the population.

Worry tugged on your chest more than you’d like. Being relatively strong and skilled, you had no reason to be, that is if you were only concerned for yourself. But that wasn’t the case.

A year ago, you would have considered your life to be picture-perfect. The perfect job, perfect boyfriend and perfect future. It had already been planned out for you. That was the one thing you had control over, and now you didn’t know if you would live or die the next day.

Still, your mind often traveled elsewhere, to a time where you could imagine yourself at a big wedding, with the overly extravagant gown, surrounded by all of your family members and friends. You’d see your husband-to-be at the end of the aisle and fall in love with him all over again. Give or take a few years, you’d fall pregnant. Another few years, you’re sending your child to school. Wishing them a goodbye and leaving them cute notes in their lunchbox.

That was all make-believe, a false glimmer of hope in what was now your everyday life. It made things easier to dwell on what used to be, to fantasize of what your life could’ve been instead of facing the harsh reality.

Your boyfriend was what you would come to miss the most and out of everything that happened in the past, there would have been things you preferred to do differently. Maybe not to yell at your mom so much, or try taking out the trash when she asked you to. Little faults here and there that if you had a time machine, you would go back and change. Maybe, just maybe, they would make a difference. With him, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He had vibrant red hair and matching eyes, a sharp-toothed grin that resembled that of a shark but you found it charming. His compassion towards others and determination to improve himself each passing day left you smitten.

In a sense, he had handed down that torch to you, and you held it proudly. During the evening hours, when dusk began to set and the moon rose from the horizon, there would be many wandering souls, searching for solace from the harsh cold or the scalding heat. In either case, you would be there to offer aid in any way you were needed. Never turning away a hand and always giving, not caring if they had anything to offer in return. Some would stay, and some would go, always in search for something better.

One night in particular, there was something off in the distance that caught your eye. Like someone or something within your gut told you to reach out and help. The figure limps, dragging their left foot behind the rest of their body and their face comes into view, the bonfire casting a shadow across a bloody and beaten countenances. You run towards them, chest risen with optimism and heart racing because you knew that it couldn’t have been a coincidence.

“H-help...please…” his eyes are lidded, blinking up at you as your arms cradle their body, slowly going limp in your grasp. Red hair and black roots cling to his sweaty forehead as his head lolls into your chest, and you drag him towards the shelter.

It doesn’t seem that he recognized you off the bat, not that you expected him to, but you did without even so much as a confirmation. With gentle hands, you wrap a bandage around the cleaned and sterile wound on his side, a deep gash most likely caused by a knife or a bullet that grazed the skin. He was incredibly lucky that it didn’t puncture, otherwise it would have injured vital internal organs. The tattered clothes he wore were stained with blood, and you run them through a bucket of water with dish soap, attempting to scrub out the remains. A low groan emits from the bed, and you twist around, eyes meeting with those very same crimson hues.

He tries to focus on your face, you can tell it by reading the furrow of his brows and the concentration in them. Like a light bulb, it clicks, and his features visibly brighten like the sun poking through the clouds on a rainy day.

A small, relieved smile grows on his lips and you feel tears brimming your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks if you so much as blinked.

“You’re alive,” he chokes out, breaking into a strangled cough and immediately you’re at his side, holding his hand and feeling his forehead and flushed cheeks.

“So are you, but you have a fever. Let me get you a rag.”

You dip a cloth into a fresh bucket of chilled water and place it above his eyes, the same pair that never leave you while watching your lips tug downwards in worry.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he breathes, ignoring your attempts to ask him about any pain or discomfort in his wounds. You blink rapidly, but the tears run down regardless, and you hold his hand up to your mouth and kiss it.

“I’m so glad you’re alive, Eiji.”

A broken grin is your response, and you lean down to peck his mouth, his nose, and his cheekbones.

“Promise me something,” he says, crimson eyes silently pleading. You nod, swiping a thumb over the back of his hand. “Don’t leave me ever again.”

“I promise.”

Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, society’s top ranking officials stalling at putting an end to the virus. It was obvious that there was a cure, seeing them traveling on broken televisions that broadcasted every Sunday in the windows of stores across the city. To where, who knew. All that you were aware of was that you were stuck; abandoned. Left forgotten.

Food had become a commodity, with every person you came across begging for a bread ration in exchange for weapons or money. Constantly, you denied, and gifted them a loaf for free if you had it on hand. Some were much less fortunate, and died right in front of you, their bodies laying cold and stiff on the side of the streets. Dying of starvation, and quite possibly disease.

The life you now lived had changed you. It hardened you, and made it less and less easier to feel compassion towards those who reached their demise. Becoming numb, apathetic to those decaying bodies like it was everyday thing, but it really was. Even though it shouldn’t be.

Kirishima kept you sane, grounded almost, and rose your spirits as you laid on his chest, listening to the heartbeat that told you that we’re all humans, looking for reason under every stone and crevice. Looking for purpose behind the catastrophe. You had found yours long ago.

“How much longer do you think we have?” The steady thump thump thump of the contracting organ, steadily pumping blood in and out of veins and capillaries. It felt like you had waited centuries to hear that sound, waiting to know that he’s alive.

“Well, it can’t last forever.” A peck to your hair. Damp and freshly washed, with the aroma of lavender. His favorite smell. “But I’d say in a couple years time, things will be back to normal.”

“What if they don’t?” Calloused hands cup your jaw, rubbing a thumb across your cheekbone tenderly.

“It’s not like you to be so negative,” he teases, his lips pressing gently to the tip of your nose. The bonfire cackles softly in the distance, the only source of light in the dark evening air, and shadows dance across his face as you peer up at him. “We should try and find the silver lining. If there isn’t one, carpe diem. No use in worrying about something you can’t control.”

It was so like him to conveniently bring up one of the many life lessons he’d taught you over the years. All of which you took into consideration, but were fearful of trying, that one especially. Like a train conductor, you could change paths and take new routes. Explore, but always stay on right lane. There was nothing ‘right’ about the situation you were in, nor were you sure about the silver lining. All that mattered in that moment was you and him and the stars as your witness.

You grin knowingly, eyes gleaming as he studies your face, enamored. Still as breathtaking as he was that long time ago. He captures your mouth in a kiss, a fervent and promising kiss that reassured you. Everything will be okay as long as you’re with me. His hands trail down your arms, to your hips, pulling you towards his warm body. One leg is nestled between his legs, the other elongated. Arms wrapped around each other in what seemed like an eternal embrace.

“It’s been too long,” he murmurs, peppering kisses down the base if your neck until he grunts and contorts his face in discomfort.

“Eiji, don’t strain yourself. That wound is only a week old.” A soft hand pushes down on his clavicle so he lays flat, and you straddle him, pelvis weighing down on his own, careful not to brush against the deep purple contusions that splatter across the light skin.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m glass.”

It’s a silent challenge, one that you don’t want to accept but can’t help but mull over it the more you stare into those crimson hues. Dangerous and risky, but inviting nonetheless. So you surrender, letting the pads of his fingers lift up your shirt and tug over your head, nipples chilled from the exposure to the air. He cups your breasts, massaging gently and barely ghosting the buds with his thumbs. You find his lips again, but this time it’s more urgent. Saying that you have all the time in the world yet the clock is still ticking.

His hips bucked up to your own, the sensation of his hardened member protruding through his sweatpants. With eager movements, he lifts it so it sits against his stomach and yanks down his pants, sighing in relief when you reach for him. Stroking gently, rubbing the tip of his cock and coating his length with precum until spit comes into the equation. You hollow your cheeks, humming in delight when he pushes your head down to take all of him, up and down until he’s gasping and groaning your name.

You stand, removing your shorts and panties and mount him once more, carefully eyeing his reaction when you engulf him, inserting him in all his girth and length until there’s nothing left.

“Fuck, I missed this. I missed you,” he moans, sitting up on his elbows and watching you sift upwards, rising until your sweet cavern accepts his cock again and again.

“Eiji,” you mewl, eyelashes fluttering and jaw slack, that familiar but once abandoned feeling of white hot pleasure scorching the knot in your stomach the faster you go. “I-I can’t-“

Understanding immediately, he flips your bodies without missing a beat and you cry out as he plunges himself deep into you, pressing his chest against yours and desperately thrusting towards his release. An arm is wrapped underneath you, the other laying beside your head, gripping the sheets.

“So good...it feels so good,” he breathes out, warm breath meeting your ear. “I love you.”

Whether it was those words that you yearned for, or the way he rocked his hips at such an intense speed, all of the pressure became undone. At last, you finally found it. Your silver lining was hidden behind strands of wild vermilion waves and light soft skin, beneath the rubble of shattered buildings and skyscrapers and the smog that shrouded the city like a large grey blanket. He was your hope, that speckle of light that lit up the pitch black hallway.

His moans become more high pitched the closer he reaches his end, burrowing himself deeper, ignoring the pounding ache in his ribs.

You watch with lidded eyes as his eyebrows push together, mouth hanging ajar and heavy pants and whines leaving. “Cum for me, Eiji,” you crooned, cupping his face with gentle hands before tugging on his hair. “I love you, so much. I love you.”

Three years later.

Water. Water was the one thing that hadn’t left your mind since you foolishly wandered into the desert with Kirishima. Somehow, someway, he always wound up injured, biting off more than he could chew when he went after a few mice, on the way stepping in an oasis ridden with traps. Their placer was nowhere to be found. The canteen attached at your backpack held only ounces of water, and you were parched yet refused to drink.

The blazing heat that touched the sand, the sun’s rays nearly blinding as they reflected off the tiny grains, it all looked so bright.

There had been some rumors. You didn’t want to believe them, but desperation spiked when they spoke about the haven. A safe place, with camps and aid tents to help anyone that reached it and a light blue lake in the center of a lush forest. You heard it on the news, those same televisions signaling for you to fight your way out. It called to you, and so you followed.

How naive of you to be so reckless, giving into your unconscious demands of wandering into the unknown. But you knew life had to be more than this. You knew whatever higher being had in mind for you, it wouldn’t happen if you sat in the makeshift sanctuary made out of busted cars and motor parts. That was the risk you were willing to take, for both you and Kirishima.

A ferocious wind and the clipping of blades becomes overbearing and you hastily cover your ears, the sand blowing up in waves and momentarily blinding you from the aircraft that lands just yards away. Beings in white suits and black headgear emerged from the descending staircase, and you collapse, unable to carry the weight of your boyfriend’s body on the improvised stretcher combined with the insatiable thirst.

You pant, but the breaths are shallow and shaky as the beings walk closer and closer, the words they shout blurred and undecipherable. With eyes closed and mind slowly going blank and vacant, you succumb to the blackness that envelopes you.

There’s a ringing in your ears when you come to. Your mouth is dry and your lips are cracked, and multiple aches and pains derived from what you could only assume are lesions. Dried blood sticks to all the corners where a straight limb bends, and you immediately crave a shower. A rag. Anything to help you feel less disgusting. Once the rattling disperses, you’re left with the steady beeping of a heart monitor in an otherwise silent room.

Blinking once, twice, three times and your eyes are open, staring hazily into the glaring white walls. To your right, there’s a window that leads to nothing but what appears to be a dead end. In a panic, when thoughts of Kirishima appear in your clouded mind, you begin to worry.

There’s a door by the window and it captures your attention when the handle clicks open, revealing a smiling blonde woman in a uniform of some sort. 

“You’re awake, thank goodness," she sighs in relief. You raise your brows at her when she palpates the veins in your arm. Her fingers are achingly cold. 

“Where am I? Where’s Eiji?”

She tilts her head in confusion as she checks the needle injected into your wrist, continuing into a system of thin tubes connected to a clear bag labeled ‘saline solution’. It hangs from a metal pole that swivels as she moves it.

“Your vitals look stable. That’s a good sign.”

“Where’s Eiji?”

“I’ll bring you some water, you must be thirsty.”

She leaves, the door slamming behind her. You kick your legs and thrash around but it’s no good. It’s as if you’re strapped into the bed, and although it felt so good to finally sleep in something that wasn’t rocky and rigid, you had to find a way to get out of it.

Suddenly, a voice cuts into the quiet and you scan the room, looking for the origin. A speaker in the ceiling.

“(Y/N),” the voice calls. A male. “You have no recollection of the events that occurred, do you?”

“Tell me where Eiji is, please! I have to know he’s safe!”

“Huh?” There’s a shuffling of papers. “Ah, the black haired young man? He’s alive and well.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you held in.

“May I ask you some questions?”

“You just did,” you mumble, and set your sights on the milky wall.

“Can you tell me about the last thing you remember?”

It was difficult, your memory still foggy and catching up to your present self, but you make an attempt. “I saw a helicopter and people that looked like astronauts.”

“Yes, that’s right. You fainted afterwards, correct?” You nod. “Good, good. Do you know where you are?”

“A hospital?”

The intercom goes static, and shuts off before you get an answer. You don’t bother to beg for more conversation, only concerned with where Kirishima was located. You wouldn’t put it past them to even be honest with you about his status, so why listen to the voice anyway. Despite them saving your life, you can't trust these people yet. Not after what you've been through. 

Under nobody’s fault but your own is what you tell yourself. He could be dead and you would have never known, yet you brought him to his destiny, and you might as well had gone with him. Be with your silver lining.

The smiling woman returns, the corners stretching to her ears as she hands you the tiniest bottle of water you’d ever seen. Your eyes narrowed and you snatch it, unscrewing the cap and sipping quickly as she stares at you patiently. She radiated the aura that of a motherly figure and you can feel the tension between your neck and shoulders dwindle. 

“Can I see him?”

“See who, sweetie?”

“My boyfriend, Eiji- has black hair and red eyes, you can’t miss him.”

She crosses her arms in pensive thought before gazing into the abyss of the window.

“Go to bed, dear.” And she’s back to grinning, and your shoulders relax from the sockets as if she'd uttered a lullaby. “You can see him tomorrow morning after you get a good night’s sleep.”

A glass container, about 200 milliliters, emerges from the pocket of her white coat and she inserts the liquid inside it into a different clear pouch.

“I just woke up from a coma…”

She saunters back out of the room, and her eyes don’t seem like they’re even looking at you. “Goodnight.”

Two months later.

Cafeteria food had to be the worst type you’d ever tasted, and that said a lot considering you hadn’t eaten a cooked meal in five years or so. What they served was equivalent to dough and twigs, you weren’t exactly sure what was in the mixture but just the sight of it curved your appetite.

Kirishima sat on the other side of the glass window, poking at the same mush, and sends you a toothy grin. Every time you see him he grows healthier, becoming fuller around his cheekbones and thicker on his arms. So unlike the frail and malnourished Kirishima that accompanied you on your years-long journey. He mouths words at you but it’s impossible to read his lips. You yourself had felt better. Apparently there had been underlying issues that you weren’t aware you had, but they fixed it. They, being the nurses and healthcare workers that checked in on your condition biweekly.

The intercom had promised you that the goal was near and approaching rapidly the more you improved, and for once, you held onto that hope and ceased worrying. For yours and Kirishima’s sake.

Shaggy black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and you were surprised that they allowed him to keep the white bandana that he wore. You didn’t have anything remotely personal so it didn’t matter that your old clothes were discarded, and new ones took their place. Old memories clung onto the tattered shreds and it was something you’d rather forget. A new beginning.

One week later.

The crisp breeze of the wind blows through the strands of your hair. You gaze out into the water, the flat stones skipping across the surface and Kirishima grins proudly out the corner of your eye. Forest air was different from the air you were used to. It wasn’t burnt or polluted and it was cleaner, growing more fresh and clean everyday. Warm fingers intertwined with your own, tugging your hand closer to his chest until you fall on top of him. The rhythmic thump thump thump pounds beneath your ear and warmth spreads as if it's his blood circulating within your own arteries, a transfusion that causes a rueful smile to spread across your cheeks.

“You were right, Eiji,” you mumbled suddenly. “I should’ve believed you.”

“About what?”

“When you said that things would get better, to find our silver lining. I didn’t believe you at the time but I should have. I’m sorry.”

His mouth pulls downwards in a disapproving frown, and his eyebrows crumpled together in confusion for a split second, you nearly missed it. “Well? Did you find it?”

Pecking his cheek, you twist your body so your legs fall on top of his lap. Your free hand runs through freshly dyed tendrils that shine a brighter shade of scarlet under the sun. He grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb, grazing over the skin as he pulls you closer to his beautiful face, capturing your lips in a swift and loving kiss. You draw back slightly, just enough to gaze at him with a blissful smile.

“I didn’t have to. It was there all along.”

Chapter Text

Bakugou didn’t dance. He thought he made that perfectly clear whenever his friends brought up the school’s culture festival. The ballroom dancing event didn’t seem enticing to him at all , in fact, he would burn it to the ground if he could. Kirishima told him that if he didn’t have a date, his friends would all go as a group. He knew it was lame, a waste of time and effort that could be spent practicing his skills or something else. Hell, anything else would’ve been better than going. He’d rather watch a sex tape of his grandparents, and that said a hell of a lot more than any excuse he could ever come up with.

He didn’t expect even the likes of you to show up at such an event, either, so there was no point.

“Hey,” your monotone voice cuts through his thoughts, two slips of paper cascading over his desk. You lean back on your hands as he scans it over with a bored frown. “We’re going, and you’re my date. Wear something red.”

If he really wanted to, he could turn the tickets into ashes right then and there, but he doesn’t. He only glares up at you. “I’m not going to some shitty ass dance!”

“Too late, I said so.”

Sero and Kaminari had made it a point to remind the explosive student that he just needed a strong woman to put him in his place, saying that the more she was like him, the better. It was obvious that they were hinting at you, considering there had been no one else that Bakugou had deemed as 'strong'. You were nothing like him, though. You enjoyed being around people despite the monotone front you wore and liked making friends whereas he didn’t give a rat’s ass whether or not people liked him; it was their loss, anyway. Somehow, despite your depressingly boring personality (to him) and dry humor he found himself thinking of you as more of a friend than a side character. You pressed his buttons on the daily, for the sole purpose of getting a rise out of him, and he fell for it every time. Majority of the class couldn’t even stand the guy, yet you sat behind him, annoying him and making snide comments any chance you got. One time you used a thin square of Sero’s tape to adhere a paper saying “tsundere” for everyone to gawk at. A lot of the girls laughed under their hands and fluttered their eyelashes at him like he was a goddamn sex god, and it pissed him off. Yet he didn’t do shit to you but chase you around the block yelling empty threats of beheading you and mounting your head on a stick.

He doesn’t know why he told Kirishima. And he doesn’t know why the hell he’s at the shopping mall, picking out blazers and button up shirts in different shades of red. It’s almost as if he wants to go to the stupid dance. Imagining you in some sparkly ballgown and your makeup and hair done up nicely made him physically cringe. That’s a really hideous image. He can’t really picture you in anything other than your school uniform or the dull and monochrome black clothing you always wore on your off days.

“What about this one, Bakugou?” His shark-toothed friend holds a hanger with a suit in all red with a cheetah print design with a wide grin, but the blonde is not amused in the slightest when he gives it a once-over, nose wrinkling in distaste.

“The fuck do I look like, Kaminari? Put that shit back," he grunts back. 

He laughs and rummages through more racks of suits, trying to find something moderately decent and impressive for Bakugou as he stands off to the side with an irritable scowl.

He settled on a black blazer and a simple red button-up, black slacks and matching oxfords. It was very plain and boring; a perfect fit if he were to compare it to you. The following days consisted of the usual painstakingly mundane things, and the weekend could come along as slow as it wanted to. He was in no rush to see you in that dress no matter how beautiful you would probably look, and in no rush whatsoever to make a fool out of himself.

Well, you didn’t specify that you had wanted to dance, so that’s the hope he held on to in an effort to feel less nervous.

“Katsuki,” you call out from beside him in the cafeteria, that same bored and stoic expression on your face, yet something was different about you. Something more...glittery. Your lashes fluttered as you blink and your plush and pink lips surrounded the straw of your chocolate milk carton before they part and begin moving, but he doesn’t hear anything.

“Hey,” you say more forcefully, eyebrows slightly pressed together. “You listening to me?”

“Not really.” It’s amazing how he’s able to pull out of his enchanted stupor and return to his usual pissed off facade, but that’s all it was. A facade. Well, to you, at least. Everyone else could genuinely fuck off.

“I wanted to remind you about the corsage and boutonniere. Did you order them?”
Ah, shit. He didn’t even think about that. You didn’t strike him as the type to take that kind of stuff so seriously. He sat there dumbfounded and you sighed knowingly.

“I knew you’d forget. I’ll text you the address of the floral shop and you can bring them over to my room on Saturday.”

“Why can’t you do it?” He frowns, eyes narrowed in on his picked at spicy chicken curry, one of his favorites.

“Because I already ordered it, asshole. Be a gentleman for once and just do it.”

“Whatever.”

It’s quiet for the remainder of lunch, and the day goes on as usual. He can hear you scribbling away at what Cementoss is lecturing about. The popping of multiple pen and marker caps annoy the living shit out of him and he sneakily twists in his seat to glare at you.

“Can you stop making all that damn noise?”

You look up from your notebook, jaw slacked open, unaware that you were even being bothersome. A strand of your hair falls in front of your face and he has a sudden impulse to brush it behind your ear. The thought makes his chest tighten and he abruptly turns forward before you could even reply. Still, the scribbling and popping sounds of the lids continue and he grits his teeth.

He sat in his bed at the dorms, scrolling through his phone in search of your phone number that he saved underneath ‘Frida’. In reference to your animation quirk, the ability to bring drawings to life, he presses the screen when he spots it. At first you were confused as to how to came up with the nickname. He claimed that it was because of the famous Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. Known for her excellent self-portraits and vibrancy she incorporated into her paintings and sculptures, you took it as a compliment. He shut that down pretty quickly when he called her ‘plain-looking’ and ‘odd’, to which you replied that he was uncultured and didn’t know art if it busted his skull open with a baseball bat. Since becoming friends with you, he’d been in your dorm before. Only once and it was a mistake, but he saw the artwork that hung from the walls. The paint sets, the sculpting clay and easels. They all made him see just how passionate about it you really were, and he admired it, never bothering to make fun of artistry ever since.

To: Frida

What time should I meet you?

Just sending that message alone made his heart race, and he pulled the edges of the pillow around his face and kicked his legs as he screamed into it. A ding resonates into his chest, and he lifts the phone, staring at the reply.

7 PM. Don’t be late.

He stares at himself in the mirror, giving himself a rundown. His hair spikes up in all different directions and you would think that with all that advice Best Jeanist gave him, he still hadn’t managed to tame it. The suit fits snugly with his body; the sleeves not too long or too tight, the slacks loose but not baggy. He thought he looked pretty good, not that he gave a shit whether or not you thought so.

Alright, so maybe that was a lie. The lint roller his mom gifted him sat on the bedside table, and he reached for it, making sure to get all the tiny crevices of his clothes as best he could. An ensemble of flowers were also sitting in a tiny clear container beside it, and he marvels at them. Red roses with baby’s breath accents and the tiniest bit of greenery, it meshed well with the outfit and he assumed your dress as well. He read online that the girl and boy are supposed to exchange it, or put it on each other, so he didn’t even bother to mess with it in case you got pissed.

He stands outside of your door, knocking once, thinking it would be enough. A moment later you poke your head out, your expression blank like the usual. When the door widened and revealed your gown, he squinted to make sure that what he was looking at was real.

A flowing train with floral etched into the seams sat on your arms, the sleeves long and see-through except for the rose designs, clinging to your biceps and leaving the skin of your shoulders bare. You looked beautiful and definitely not like yourself.

“I half expected you to be late, Katsuki,” you mused, leaning against the door frame nonchalantly and you motioned to the containers. “Are those flowers for me? You shouldn’t have.” 

Your amused and mocking tone doesn’t reach your features, but your lips do display a small teasing smile and he sucks his teeth. 

“Just put this shit on me so we can go.”

He watches the pink tongue that sticks out a bit of your mouth, eyes slightly narrowed in concentration as you try to pin the boutonniere to his blazer. A low ‘ah’ sounds and you stuck your finger in your mouth, sucking on the small prick.

“You can’t be more careful?”

“I’ve never done this before, you know. Don’t rush me.”

It took you around five minutes before the needle finally adhered to the fabric, and not once did he complain or make snarky comments about how you were such a bother or taking too long. He merely gazed down at you in silent admiration, fighting tooth and nail to not give in to that annoying urge to kiss you.

The scent of lilac and patchouli leaves his nose as you stand back and admire your work, then holding out your hand. With gentle and sweaty, nervous palms he grabs your forearm with his left hand, his right maneuvering the band around your wrist. You flinch when he shocks you with a minuscule explosion in the process.

“Shit, sorry” he mutters, averting his eyes quickly from your mildly surprised state. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You blink slowly, “You’re nervous.”

There’s no teasing in your voice, no reason for him to be peeved at all, but it’s so blatant and dull that it does. Like you noticed it all along.

“Like hell I am. Can we go now? I wanna get this over with.”

He would assume that the brashness of his choice of wording would offend you. If it were anyone else they’d be crestfallen, saying that they’d prefer to be at home than anywhere with him. You’re the opposite, and instead of offering him a retort you send him a small grin, leading the way out of the dorms.

“I’d like something to drink,” you hummed, nudging his arm with your elbow. He doesn’t take the hint, of course.

“Okay?” He scoffs at you, and you click your tongue.

“That would be your cue, you goddamn brick.”

“Did you just call me a-“

“Brick. Because you’re so dense that it’s almost funny. Anyway, I’ll be with Jirou. Come find me when you’re done.”

His stare lingers onto your disappearing frame until you are hidden among the crowd of students, all dancing with their hands up and he knew damn well you weren’t going to be doing that. His hands grab the ladle and pour the bright blue liquid into a plastic cup, ever so typical of the high school dances. He may despise them but there were some good movies about the subject, and he wasn’t one to shit on a good plot.

He weaves between people until he finds you sitting at a table, conversing with Momo and Jirou like you said. You thank him when he handed the cup over and he sips on his own drink quietly, overhearing your muffled giggling under the music as he faces the sea of students. He’d never heard that sound before and he yearned for more of it, wanting to know how to make it appear again.

It was so unlike you to be sitting there looking like an actual girl and not some creature of the undead with your stoic and bland traits. The mask you donned for school seemed like a new identity, but then it dawned on him. It wasn’t really you that changed, it was him. It was him all along and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.

A particularly slow song with a smooth and delicate melody began to play, and the people disperse, creating a more roomy atmosphere for the space designated for couples. He snorts at the poor suckers.

“Katsuki.” He feels a tap on his shoulder and you poke your head around him. “Let’s dance.”

“No.”

“But I want to.” An agitated puff of air leaves those luscious lips and you pout. That would’ve convinced him if he hadn’t already set his mind straight. “Is it too much to ask for one dance?”

“Why don’t you ask Kaminari or something?” The picture of you and him slow dancing, with his hands on your waist and your head in his neck infuriated him more than he’d like to admit. He doesn't even know why he suggested that loser in the first place.

“I came here with you and I want a dance with my date. Come on.”

You tugged on his hand and he could have easily just held his spot on the floor, not budging an inch, but you win regardless with that gorgeous smile and glossy hair that sweeps back and forth, dragging him onto the audience and wrapping your arms around his shoulder blades. Automatically, his hands find your hips and he places lazy pressure just enough to lead.

He stayed quiet, not seeing the need to make idle chatter when it was enough that he even showed up with you.

“Thanks for taking me tonight,” you tilt your head cutely, eyes gleaming beneath the alternating lights reflecting off the shitty disco ball and colorful ribbons.

“I didn’t have a choice.” That made you chortle and he took pride in the mild accomplishment.

“You could’ve rejected me.”

That he could have done. Yet he didn’t.

“Why did you even ask me?” He grumbled.

“Because I like you.”

He stopped, stepping backwards and obviously bewildered. He looked at your face; lips parted and releasing shallow breaths, eyes widened like even you couldn’t believe it.

“Shut up,” he breathes out, not able to look you in your bright eyes and cherry cheeks. 

He wasn’t used to this new side of you. The side that was so beautiful; like everyone moved in slow motion and the sun radiated from your skin. He preferred the original artwork, where you were blunt and plain and easy to talk to. Now he saw you through a lens and he didn’t know how to stop it, or if he wanted to. 

On the walk back to the dorms, it’s silent. Nothing but the fluttering of bird wings in the flock, the slight buzzing of a broken street lamp, and the clicking of your heels.

“This is a miracle,” you hum in awe. He raises a brow.

“What is?”

“You’re so quiet. I wish I told you sooner.”

He did too. That way he wouldn’t of had to go to that lame dance.

“Tch. I’m not quiet, I’m thinking.”

“About?”

Everything. How to fix it, what to do next, why you even liked him.

“You.”

“Ew, you scowled, “Don’t say mushy stuff like that. It’s disgusting.”

“You’re the one who confessed to me!” He snarled back, shoving you to the side.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it changes anything. It just means that I like you.”

You laughed when you pushed him back, and then it turned into a full-on war over who could push who the hardest. He liked this part of your relationship. Where there’s an unsaid rivalry and shitty banter and no long awkward stares that left him in a confused daze.

But he also liked the pretty side; the one where there’s the slightest tint of pink on your cheeks and a sliver of a grin when you manage to get him stunned and nervous, his palms sweating more than the usual and his heart pounding like a drum. The side that made him realized that he did indeed like you back.

A couple days later, way past the weekend and onto the next school week, he had a lot of time to think. To mull over what you said to him. To make his decision.

He slammed a palm on the surface of your desk, the harsh sound reverberating into the classroom conversations before homeroom started. Students nearby crane their necks curiously, thinking it will be the usual back and forth shit-talk that occurred. You simply glance up at him with tired and narrowed eyes.

“You and me this friday. We’re going on a date.”

“Says who?” You snide, to which he only juts his thumb into his chest, leaning into your face so close that your eyelashes could touch.

“Says me. ”

You go to make another snarky retort but snap your jaw shut, resting your chin in your hand and gazing out the window with a furious blush. For the first time, he’s rendered you speechless and flustered. Bakugou smirks.

Chapter Text

Tamaki hated his birthday. The one day of the year when everything was meant to be centered on him. He hated the attention, the gifts, the feeling of being catered to. If anything, he preferred to be left alone and celebrate by himself, regardless of Nejire’s requests to throw him a small get-together.

You were out for the last couple of days on a hero mission and he admits that the time he spent in the large condo was rather lonely. You took up majority of his time and filled his day with fun activities on the regular, so it was no doubt that he missed you. It wasn’t a particularly bad thing, however, that you happened to be out of town for his birthday. There would be no gifts to receive or cake to eat, but all he could have asked for his special day was for you to return home safely, whenever that would be.

It was a rather mundane day. A couple villains robbing a jewelry store and a few attempted kidnappings all in a day’s work. Nothing too out of the ordinary and he liked it that way, to have a routine, but he also enjoyed the rougher and more demanding duties of being a pro hero.

Over time, and with your help along the way, he’s grown more confident in his abilities so he no longer doubts himself as much as he used to. Instead of shying away from the smallest of altercations, he’d take initiative and jump into action without a second thought. After all, that was what being a hero was all about. Going out of your comfort zone and constantly challenging yourself despite the safe environment you’re used to, because otherwise, how would you grow as a person, let alone a hero?

You had always been so inspiring to him, and from the moment you had said those words to him, he knew that you were someone that he wanted to keep around for longer than most. Always keeping him on his toes and being his beacon of hope and determination. You had set the pace, he just had to follow behind.

Sitting on the curved couch of the living room, the dim light reflecting off the television displaying a random show he flipped to, he felt empty. A bowl of tako miso soup sits in front of him, but he barely touches it. He sighs, drumming his fingers on the arm and runs through his phone. Missed notifications from Mirio and Nejire, a couple missed calls from his mom, and a simple text from you.

Happy birthday, my love!

Very simple and to the point, and his heart sinks when he realizes that he’ll probably be sleeping alone tonight. No legs intertwining, no shared body heat or the smell of your hair. At least for today, he wanted to spend the day with you. Maybe he should have cherished the other times you woke him at midnight, gently rubbing his ears and kissing him all over his face. Or the times when you made him breakfast, a rare occurrence because you both are so busy, but you decided to take the time to make it special and go all out. And like the other times when you went to a secluded restaurant, serving all of his favorite foods and eating in a quiet little corner away from other chattering couples. Just enjoying each other’s company.

He didn’t know what time it was when you arrived home, but it was already dark out and the city lights shone through the window wall of the room. A few candles hold gentle flames throughout the room, and he definitely doesn’t remember lighting them. A softly sweet and comforting scent of jasmine and patchouli feathers up from them, and the hallway towards the bedroom is dimly lit.

Humming grows more prominent the closer he walks towards the sound. Anxiety surges through him when thoughts of a burglar or a kidnapper could be hidden around the corner, but when he sees you fluffing up the pillows and smoothing down the lush bedsheets, he smiles. You wear a black satin robe and a pink babydoll nightie, something he’s never had the pleasure of seeing on you. He could swear he could feel his heart grow three times its size when you beam up at him.

“Tamaki! I missed you so much,” you sigh into his chest, arms encasing him into a hug. Rosy lips sweetly press into his own and he pushes into the kiss, relishing in how you taste and smell.

“You scared me,” he chuckles in relief.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t want to wake you up just yet.”

“That’s okay.”

It’s silent for a few more moments, and he gazes into your eyes as your fingers run through his hair lovingly, a slight blush tinting his nose and ears.

“Happy birthday, Tamaki.” Your hand reaches for his and you pull him to the bed, letting your body fall atop his. With legs bent at his waist, you lean down and peck his lips once more. “I love you.”

With shy smiles exchanged, he could never get that giddy feeling out of him whenever you looked so beautiful and completely his. Nobody could ever have the chance to call you their own, despite you being way out of his league and being able to do so much better. Yet you stayed with him, and he never could quite figure out why.

“A-are you wearing this for me?” He swallows nervously, suddenly blushing fiercer than a few moments ago. His fingers fiddle with the lace hem, curiously peeking underneath. He knew that was a bad idea. White leopard print panties hiked up to your waist, simple yet still racy enough to send his mind reeling.

You giggled into his mouth with another kiss. “Do you like it?”

He nods softly, caressing the curves of your hips and you grind down lightly, a delectable friction rising between your two bodies.

“Do you want your present now?” Your teeth suck on your bottom lip before releasing it, a sheen coating the pink flesh and he whines lowly when your hand grips the tent in his pants, raking your nails down the protruding length. “I can have it unwrapped in under 30 seconds.”

Chapter Text

Being the party animal was the one thing you had always been known for. Where there was liquor and music, you could be found in the sea of many drunken college students. It was an escape, one could say, but in reality it was a mere show to just make yourself feel valued. Too stupid for academics, not skilled enough for athletics. The only thing you could honestly call a skill would be the amount of liquor you could chug in under 10 seconds. So you focused nearly all of your free time scouring parties, desperately trying to blend in among your successful peers.

You doubt that any one of them even bothered getting to know your true self besides what lays on the surface. Maybe you weren’t that interesting, or maybe there wasn’t that much to know. You’re just a party girl, after all, and a good hook up every now and then. Nobody really had to know the real you, anyway.

The life had been growing tired the more your junior year went on. During the end of the semester, finals had began and mixers and kegs were far less to come by. You had to hold out until spring rolled along and spring break, your favorite part of the year, reared its wild and thrilled head. A small smile broke through your bored features the longer you sat and thought about it. It appeared the lifestyle had grown to an obsession, teetering on the brink of an addiction. Stopping didn’t seem feasible.

The boy sitting in front of you taps his eraser on the wooden desk, the loudest sound in the library, and frowns when you meet his eyes. “You know,” he sighs. “I really don’t care if you don’t pass physics because I get paid by your parents either way, but you should really put more effort into your studies.”

“Do they also pay you to put your nose in my business?” You tilt your head, cheek leaning into your palm. You blow a strand of hair out of your face and scan through the textbook.

“No, but don’t you care about university at all? I mean, the tuition here is a shitload and you’re acting like it’s some community college. You’re lucky you even got in this school.”

“Money obviously isn’t an issue here, dude, and I got in because of scholarships . I just need to pass all my classes to keep it. Anyway, we were on laws of motion, right? Every object will remain at rest or in uniform motion until an external force changes the trajectory.”

The boy gapes and raises an eyebrow before clearing his throat. “Right. Newton’s second law of motion.”

“Nah, it’s the first law. The second law is that an object’s acceleration depends on its mass and the net force acting on it,” you huff exasperatedly. With eyes narrowed, you glance up at the puzzled complexion he wears. “For a tutor, you’re doing a real shitty job. I’m surprised my parents hired you.”

A small ‘tch’ leaves gritted teeth and he scowls into his notebook.

Thankfully, your friends were throwing a small (rather medium-sized) kickback during winter break. Though it wasn’t your usual scene, you accepted the invite because drinking had become a shallow medication to soothe the C- that clouded your normal 3.0 GPA. Spring semester would be a fantastic time to do electives, a contrast to your usual core curriculum classes. You had completed a language, French, and did surprisingly well. But what else was there besides art appreciation and...philosophy? No, that’s too deep for your liking. There’s no reason for you to comprehend the meaning of life, you had a pretty good idea in mind.

You scroll through missed text messages as you help your friend set up the snack trays that littered the various rooms of the fraternity house, multiple boys your age passing by shirtless and backwards caps covering their hat hair. You grimace as you watch them haul the keg into the back patio, nearby a small fire pit. For winter break, you wonder how they even manage to keep warm when they barely keep clothed. How stereotypical.

“How’s the beer gonna stay cold?” She ponders as you cut eyes at her. Maybe she’s the reason your GPA is falling.

“Well, considering it’s below freezing outside…” you muse, stacking red solo cups around the island in the kitchen.

A delicious scent of cologne passes by your nose, and you glance up to follow the trail. A raven haired boy with striking blue eyes, someone you’ve never seen before, smiles lazily at your gawking face but you’re quick to snap out of it, not giving him the chance to say something slick.

“You here to help? Cool, can you put this on the dining room table?” A bowl of tortilla chips is pushed into his grasp and he blinks a response before rolling his eyes, following your instructions.

“Why does that dude look so creepy?”

“Oh, him?” She grins dreamily at you. “That’s Dabi. Isn’t he totally gorgeous?!”

“I guess so, if you like half-dead weirdos…”

A hand gently brushes past your waist, another pressed firmly into the marble top counter. You meet the same pair of azure hues and flush underneath his intense teasing stare.

“I’ll have you know I’m very much alive,” he smirks. “Feel for yourself.”

His palm twists up, fingers beckoning you into their hold and you comply with an arched brow. He squeezes softly and the feeling sends electricity through your whole body, and you know by the slight widening of his eyes that he felt the same way.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and bite your lip before muttering, “I stand corrected.”

He laughs lowly and disappears into the living room, the trail of cologne following after him. You had to admit that the scent was enthralling.

“Oh my God, he so wants you!”

“Are you kidding?” You shrink back from her delighted face in yours. “I’m not interested in hooking up tonight. We’re mourning my shrinking grade point average in case you forgot.”

“Right,” she frowns. “Don’t worry! Shots can cure anything!”

You were unfortunately proven wrong that night, despite what you lead yourself to believe. If you lost your scholarship, then everything would have been fruitless. Your parents would likely send you off into the military because heaven forbid they have a college dropout for a daughter. That was why they sent you to a prestigious university and paid for a damn tutor for every subject you enrolled in just to be safe. Though you lived in dorms, and they had no way of knowing your actual scores, your transcripts would likely be mailed home. There goes your stress-free ride. Now you had to actually try in order to get back on their good side. You sip at a glass of a mixture that tastes like sprite, and stick out your tongue when it settles badly in your mouth.

“Rough night, doll?”

The same boy from earlier, Dabi, slumps down on the sofa next to you. The blaring rap music made it difficult to even hear him. You scowl in response, crossing your arms over your chest and wrinkle your forehead in disappointment. This really wasn’t how you’d like your evening to go. “I don’t feel like talking.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Then let me rephrase that. I don’t feel like being your quick fuck or anything related, so get lost.”

He visibly flinches before a wide cat like smile spreads across his cheeks. “Ouch, it’s one of those days, huh? That’s not what I’m here for, either. Give me a chance, will ya?”

You’re quiet, so he continues. “We’re in adolescent psychology together.”

Sparing a quick glance, you scan his face for anything that might be memorable, but nothing rings a bell. “Psych major?”

“No, I just like learning about the human mind.”

Something about that doesn’t sit well with you, but you listen regardless.

“I can see right through you. The whole ‘I’m a smart girl but I pretend to be dumb to fit in and it’s basically become a reality’. Am I close?”

“You’re a stalker.”

“So I figured it out. We’re not that different, you know. You try to blend in, because if you don’t, you’ll be seen as prissy and a prude, and I blend in because it’s easier than being bullied by some assholes that can barely pass English Literature. Something along those lines.”

“You’ve been bullied? That’s hard to believe.”

“People hate on the beautiful. It’s a hard life, you wouldn’t understand,” he smirks, a pink tongue running across white teeth when you shoot daggers his way.

“Whatever.”

“Relax, I’m playing with you,” he taps your leg firmly with his palm, scooting closer until his cologne scent clouds the one of beer. “I’m pretty good for someone with a basic understanding of psychology, right?”

“You’re a genius,” you deadpan. “Your little analysis on me is impressive, but what’s the reason? You gonna expose me?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m just making polite conversation.”

“Couldn’t you have that with anyone else here?”

“You’re more interesting.” His eyes glittered as they bore into yours, a light fluttering in your chest mixing up your previous emotions.

The rest of the night was filled with jokes exchanged, the more he smiled the more you escaped out of your cold exterior shell, guilt creeping up from behind when you thought about your previous disdain towards him. Truthfully, he was handsome. Almost a little too good-looking than what you were used to...then again, your taste in guys ran pretty low.

His hand somehow found its way into your own again, a sturdy grip between interlocked fingers as he lead you to a nearby neighborhood. Normally you wouldn’t have trusted someone so easily, especially someone you had just met, but deep in your gut you knew that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or put you in danger after listening to his deep backstory and his faulty past. Everyone had their own skeletons in their closet, so you couldn’t judge. Not like you could with your current predicament that he had so easily figured out.

The houses looked run down and busted, with bars barricading the windows and wire fences outlining the perimeters. You liked looking at houses that seemed to be from the early 20th century. The rusticity and simplicities made you appreciate the smaller things in life and suddenly your problems didn’t matter as much. Patches of gardens and flower pots and fountains decorated the front lawns up until the porches as the moon rose higher into the sky.

“Where are you taking me?” You peer up at him, leaning into his touch as he places his palm to your cheek, cradling your face.

“Somewhere a little quieter.”

You scowl before snatching your hand away. “Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy. I don’t trust you tha- mmph !”

Soft lips are pressed forcefully against yours, silencing whatever you were about to say; you weren’t quite sure anymore. His arms wrap around your waist, tugging you towards his body and your hands grip his biceps, his tongue swiping into your mouth.

“Would you prefer that I fuck you right here on the sidewalk?” He breathes into your mouth. “I guess I could get into that. Never done public sex before, but I-”

“Shut the fuck up and take me back to yours.”

Chapter Text

Scared was an emotion that Dabi was quite familiar with growing up, but it was an emotion that became distant with the time he spent away from his father. Nothing could ever make him feel that same way he did when he lived at that house. Surrounded by pain and agony, all at his hero of a father’s expense, during his adolescent and teen years. He doesn’t remember even having a childhood. As soon as his quirk manifested, it was like he was packaged and shipped to a different location. It was still the same house, however, only he was introduced to the more sinister side of the one person he thought would be there for him. His mother had tried to mediate, yet she was only thrown to the sidelines and did what she did best; be silent, turn a blind eye.

Scared had become his best friend over the years. So common that when it appeared, he no longer felt it even though he should have. Numbness stole its place and gave him a false sense of fearlessness, though it was overlooked as arrogance and newfound confidence. A combination that irked his father and earned him more vigorous training regimens and a colder tongue. Isolation took over, and the emptiness made him feel worthless. His father no longer took interest in him and therefore, tossed him to the backburner.

Dabi thought that with the League, his situation could get better. Use his powers for something his father would deem unacceptable and humiliate the Todoroki name even further. He didn’t need to become a hero, no, he could be even more. A villain, that was what suited him best.

His past didn’t mean much to him. In fact, he resented it and pushed as many memories as he could to the shredder, refusing to reminisce even the good ones, the happy ones. The few he had with his siblings didn’t matter, they probably shunned him anyway.

There were a few that struck out, and he couldn’t find it in himself to burn them. A couple visions resurfacing of you sitting next to him on the swingset, smiling that wide and beautiful smile he adored so much. Sunny days had always seemed so dull when compared to you. Painted nails typing away at your phone when you leaned into his side, the grass weaving between his fingers as he plucked dandelions from the ground, blowing on them until the wind snatched them up.

“Did you make a wish?” You wonder, those delightful and large eyes gleaming up at him.

“Don’t have to,” he replied. “Won’t change anything.”

“You’ll never know unless you try.”

Whether it was your sing songy voice or the way you hinted at something he didn’t know of, he took a chance and did the silly gesture to make you happy. He wished for a better life for himself, one of success and fulfillment, no matter what it’d be. For you, he wished that one day you might see him as more than a friend. That one day you could run away from this destroyed city and leave behind the ideologies of villains and heroes, good and evil, and just live. Together.

Scared was an emotion he never associated with you, but now he couldn’t help the rocky feeling floating around in his stomach. He hadn’t seen you in years, and more likely than not, you had forgotten about him. Poor Touya this, poor Touya that. He could imagine the fake worry feathering from their voices in the high school hallway, a small frown clouding your usual happy demeanor amidst your peers. You didn’t deserve to be seen with someone as disgusting and criminal as him. Ugly and deformed, a figure more fit for a grueling nightmare.

He should have known better than to think that you could ever forget those bright blue eyes and charming voice. He hadn’t changed at all.

“D-do I know you, by chance?” Your lower lip twinges anxiously, he knew it from watching you from time to time. A nervous tick.

He ducks his head and rubs his neck, searching for a quick escape. It was a mere coincidence that he bumped into you on the busy street. A coincidence that you glanced up and your eyes met, dancing in the sunlight and sending a bolt of realization through your veins.

“Uh, no, sorry. Don’t think so,” he says gruffly, hopefully disguising his voice but then again, you knew him better than the back of your hand.

“Y-you...Touya?!”

The moment the last syllable leaves your lips, those precious pink lips, he yanks you around the back alleyway, shielded from the crowds of pedestrians and possibly heroes scouring the area. A hand clasps over your mouth, a damaged and scarred hand, and the mask is removed.

You gasp, eyes widening and tears welling up in the inner corners. One blink, and they’re spilling to your cheeks. Dabi sighs.

“Hey,” he mutters. It can’t be helped. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Where the fuck have you been?!” You slap his chest angrily before clutching at the placket front of his flannel. “I was worried! You just disappeared without saying goodbye!”
“Sorry.” He didn’t know what to say because he never prepared to see you again. But he said the one thing he knew you would understand. “(Y/N), you know I had to get out of that fucking house.”

“So that meant you had to skip town? Forget how I feel, right? Forget what we had?”
“I did what I had to, okay?! What the fuck more do you want from me?!” A palm slams against the brick wall, inches away from where your head laid against it and you take a sharp breath in. He didn’t mean to yell, but all the frustrations and thinking about that awful place brought up emotions he didn’t want to face. Your shoulders tremble and there’s a facade about the scowl you wear, a front that showed that you weren’t threatened because deep down, he’ll always be Touya to you.

“I thought I meant more to you than that.”

Your tone was broken, destroyed and cracked. Eyes avoided his and he bites his lip, torn in between spilling everything or keeping his distance. He was never good at lying to you, as much as he wanted to right then and there.

“You meant the whole world to me. You still do. But this is what’s best for me, you just have to trust me.”

“I-I do trust you, Touya.”

“Dabi. Not Touya,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your lips. A distance both of you wanted to desperately close but neither moves from their respective spot.

“Your face…” you breathe out.

He scoffs. “Hideous, I know.”

“No, not hideous,” you cup his cheek hesitantly. It surprises himself how quickly he’s leaning into your touch. “Beautiful.”

If the flames tickling his stomach could melt him, he would have turned into a puddle. The look that you give him begs for him to kiss you, to make you his at last, but he can’t bring himself to do so. Not yet, not when he could bring you into a world you didn’t belong.

“Believe me, I want to,” he whispers. “It’s not safe. I’m sorry, (Y/N), I have to go.”

Your brows are furrowed in confusion, eyes searching his for any solace. Any comfort hidden behind his words that he’ll see you again.

“Do you still live at your old house?” He asks suddenly, breathing becoming shallow as his navy blue eyes flicker between the darkening streets and growing number of civilians passing by the alley. You nod rapidly, lips parted, hooked on every last word just in case. “Good.”

Then he’s gone, out of sight like lightning and you’re alone, breathing in the leftover scent of fresh cotton and cigarettes.

A few hours later, way into the early morning hours where the moon sits high, surrounded by stars and faraway galaxies, rocks fly at your window. They peck against the glass one by one until a final, more aggressive plunk hits the surface. You grimace before wandering over, peeking through the blinds and the tiniest blue flame flickers in the distance. You click open the sill and meet face to face with a grinning Dabi. He crouches on the tree branch that just barely scrapes the side of your house, close enough to where you can smell the liquor on his breath. You scowl as he crawls inside, dusting himself off and plopping onto your bed.

“Your room hasn’t changed one bit, eh?” He glances around, eyes switching to every picture frame and band poster as if he were lining it up with his memories.

“You’ve been drinking.”

He rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth. “Just a couple beers, (Y/N). Relax.” Just a couple beers could mean a whole bottle of whiskey or a jug of wine, it was all the same. Touya could never handle his alcohol, but he indulged whenever he could. To forget the pain, to forget the memories. To escape. “Don’t you wanna catch up? Relive old times again?”

That tugs on your heart strings just a bit more than you’d like to. Being close and hearing his heartbeat beneath your ears, slowly lulling you to sleep as he rambles on about his younger siblings, gloating and voice glittering with pride. To feel his warmth underneath your skin, soft and light. It couldn’t be that bad to reopen closed wounds once more, would it?
“Touya-”

“ Dabi ,” he growls, laying back on his elbows.

“Dabi,” you correct yourself with a slightly mocking tone. “Can you be honest with me?”

He hums quietly before craning his neck to gaze at you like a leopard, eyes slanted and fixed on its prey. “Depends.”

“You’re with the League, right?”

He’s silent, cautiously watching you breathe deeply and stare at the carpet as if you already knew the answer. Your eyes meet his and burning inside of them is an anger he’d never seen before. Your tone earlier was hopeful, now it’s bitter and poisonous. “Whoever this Dabi persona is, I don’t care. You’re not my best friend anymore.”

“Don’t be like that-“

“I wish you would have actually died than turned into a villain. That would have made me feel a lot better than I do now.”

Your words sting like a thousand bees penetrating through his heart, and suddenly it becomes difficult to breathe. His shoulders tremble and his eyes flicker to anything else in the room but you. Your arms are crossed and finally, with one shaky sigh, he glowers at you.

“Do you mean that?” He questions quietly. He pushes himself off the bed and saunters towards the window with his hands in his pockets.

You don’t respond, only continue to glare at the floor, tears brimming your eyes.

“You of all people should have been understanding,” he murmurs. “But you’re just like the rest of them.”

“I loved you,” you interject harshly. The confession burning holes into his back. “For some stupid reason I thought that you loved me, too. I tried to make sense of why you left, or where you’ve been but I can’t wrap my head around why you didn’t tell me. Then I see you on the street, whether by coincidence or luck, and all those feelings come back. Betrayal, hurt, abandonment. I’ve always been understanding and you know that. But you’re just as bad as your father.”

The last sentence struck a chord that he thought had been broken a long time ago. He had numbed that part of him that shriveled and recoiled at the mention of his father, but only you knew how to push his buttons.

“Don’t compare me to that piece of shit,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“You’re a murderer, only you openly claim the villain lifestyle instead of trying to keep it under wraps like the number two hero.”

“Don’t-“

“You should go.” Your voice is clipped and emotionless, except for the free flowing tears staining your cheeks.

“And let you get away with saying that bullshit to me? I don’t think so!” He snarls. His hands forcefully pin you down to the bed by your wrists in seconds, the whole action blurring your vision and you blink up at him owlishly. Your urge to smirk in victory turns into anguish quickly when his fingernails dig into the skin. “You said that you loved me, huh? You think that saying that now will change anything? That I’ll go back to being that stupid teenager chasing after a girl who had it all?”

“Stop it!”

“You never had to work a day in your life, always having shit handed to you on a silver fucking spoon. You don’t know what it’s like to be used and beaten until you can barely open your eyes. Treated like scum. You don’t have a fucking clue in your pretty little head.”

“Touya, shut the hell up!”

“I told you it’s Dabi.”

His hand grips your throat harshly, knuckles turning white and you thrash in his embrace, gasping and clenching your eyes shut. Your throat burns white hot flames and his bright blue eyes gleam.

“You say I’m just like my old man, right? Did you know that blue flames are even hotter than red? They burn deeper and it hurts so fucking bad,” he chokes out a laugh. He releases his hand and pins his arms onto both sides of your head as you cough and heave. “That’s how your precious Touya got so disgusting. So fucking ugly that I had to tell myself that I would never be good enough for you. Do you know why?”

You shake your head weakly, blinking rapidly. He bites his lip and clicks his tongue. “Because you’re (Y/N). A princess stuck in her little tower and sheltered from all the bad things in the world. It should’ve stayed that way. You say that you wish I was dead but I wish that we never even fucking met. The world is much better off with me like this, (Y/N). You just don’t want to accept it.”

“I hate you,” you snarl, but he snickers and moves your thighs open with a knee. His lips hover above yours for a few seconds as your bottom lip quivers as he watches the spasms dreamily.

“No, you don’t. You hate what I’ve become.”

You cry out and sniffle, bursting into an angry sob. Blue eyes flick up to your red face curiously, a warm wave crashing into him all at once. You refuse to give in, refuse to accept that your lost love was now... this . A beautiful and severely damaged man. The things he said drunk could have never got past you, but these vicious words stole your breath like a punch to the stomach.

“I miss how we used to be. I miss my best friend, I miss Touya.”

“I can still be that person for you, (Y/N),” he coos. Confusion and inner conflict clouds your vision of his wrangled and handsome face, eyes pleading for another chance, softening and blinking so sweetly. You fall deeper into your trance and relax into his arms, his mouth closing the distance between it and your neck. A soft purr unravels from the back of his throat when your pulse pounds gently against his lips, then he snaps; eyes broadening in realization, heart feeling heavy.

“I-I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he whispers. The words barely lift to your ears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“It’s okay.”

He clenches his jaw and retracts his face from your hair, gazing remorsefully at what he’s turned you into.

How you knew this was bound to happen, you had no clue. With his trauma from his past, you could only hope that belittling him and antagonizing him could bring him back. Drinking never helped, though, and it was easy to figure out the first time it happened.

Way back at a small party you threw for your friends, it was meant to be fun and enjoyable for everyone. Touya sipped at his beer before making sour faces, but continued nonetheless, falling deeper into a pit he wasn’t aware existed. It pulled him in, and made his senses heighten and his anger build up, snapping at anyone who would show him sympathy. He used to only drink when he was socially forced, not wanting to be left out, and as a result you refused to go to anymore parties or social events where you knew there would be alcohol. Staying in and watching movies with him was better than any stupid party. You wonder if the League bothered to remember any of this, or if they even knew.

Sobering up became the best exit strategy when he became an overzealous and staggering mess, but to shorten the process was never the hard part. Hearing hurtful and deeply hidden messages was.

“You’re going to be okay.” You pet his hair with a weak hand, stroking the soft raven strands. A dark comparison to his red locks he once had.

“Let me get you some water, okay?”

“No.” His grasp tightens. “Let’s just stay like this.”

You lay there with him on your lap, flushed against your chest as he calms his own breathing. It was a struggle within itself to figure out what exactly happened, but you no longer cared. Just the feeling of him in your arms had you satisfied and content, relishing in the scent of musk and sandalwood that stains his skin. It draws you closer until you wrap your arms around his body, rolling him over until you’re cuddled into his side, a leg draped over his thighs. The scent casts a tired spell unto you, making your eyes heavy and rather difficult to keep open the longer you stroke his hair.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he mumbles into the air. You hum and scratch behind his ear.

“I think I’ve always loved you, Touya.”

He doesn’t correct you, but he spares a glance at your sleepy figure against his, and then his lips are pressed to yours in a moment. Soft and plush like he imagined. The dim twinkle lights that lined the walls cluttered with photographs.

A muffled sigh escapes when his tongue glides against the roof of your mouth, and you fall in sync. A hand grips your waist tenderly and you lean into the movement, following his lead. A few moments later as the tension and lust brews deeper, more rugged, his shirt manages to shrug off along with the loose sleeping shirt you wore. Skin became more exposed, lips moved more fervently, filled with passion and anger and silent words that neither party wanted to say or admit. Taking advantage of the few solid hours the two could spend together before day began, and Dabi had to submerge into the shadows once more. You knew that would happen the next morning, so for now you only concentrated on the way he breathed into your mouth, the way his body felt under your touch. All that mattered was he was alive, that he was safe. He was still yours, if just for this one night.

His teeth scrape against the flesh of your neck and you whine lowly, mouth closing and sucking gently before going on to the next patch of skin. Tugging on the tape of his neck, where a tuft of black hair sits, and he grunts before going to undo the buckle of his belt, never once unlatching from your throat.

“I love you,” he huffs, cupping your breast roughly before massaging it in his palm. A thumb rubs over a nipple, and his lips reach your sternum, peppering kisses along the bone. “I love you.”

“My Touya,” you whisper.

“My (Y/N),” he repeats. “Mine, mine, mine.”

Your panties reach your feet and you push them off, and then he’s pumping himself right in front of you. The sight makes your jaw clench in anticipation, and your mind becomes cloudy, wondering whether or not you’re doing the right thing. With Touya, anything you do together could never be wrong, so you smile up at him with a soft glow surrounding your eyes, and his breath hitches in his throat. Like an enchantress, you hold him captive as he enters you, and a deep sigh releases as he closes his eyes. His face burrows into your neck as he pushes himself in to the hilt, your thighs coming close to your chest and your arms encasing his back. Stitches decorate his abdomen and his arms, the dark purple coloring in the lines. Running the pads of your fingers along the artwork, not missing the way the skin flinches at the contact.

That’s how your precious Touya got so disgusting.

You shake the thoughts away and kiss him. Picking his head up from your shoulder and pressing your lips hastily to his, to which he responds sweetly. Another kiss, and another. Anything to drown out his insecurities, to show you that you would love him forever. Your soul, your body, your mind belonged to him.

Chapter Text

Powerful fists land on the hanging punching bag in the empty gym, the heavy blows creating dense echoes off the walls coated in motivational posters and rankings. It’s another one of those nights where all Bakugou can focus on is landing one hit after the next, trying to curb his anxiety about an upcoming fight. Everyone else, including his trainer, had left for the day, leaving him to have the gym and equipment all to himself with no one to make sure he doesn’t go overboard. He admits that occasionally he can get a little out of hand, but he doesn’t know any other way to make himself feel confident than just practicing more and more. Sweat dribbles down his back and he rips off the drenched black tank, tossing it to the floor and continuing. It claimed to be ‘moisture-wicking’ but that was bullshit, especially with the way he sweats.

Through his headphones, there’s loud rap music as inspiration, a certain workout playlist that put him into a type of mood where he could really concentrate and put in his all. ‘Never Recover’ blares into his ears, muting out the creaky swing of the door entrance and the footsteps that follow.

You watch him, leaning onto the corridor that leads into the main area with your arms crossed. It never ceased to amazed you how much effort he put into his career. Remembering back on high school, where you first met, and how much he’s changed since that time. Always wanting to improve his own skills, and having this insatiable desire to be the absolute best at whatever he was doing. That didn’t change one bit. He was still the same power-hungry and arrogant Bakugou you fell in love with, though it’s at a slightly less extreme. What did alter, though, was his mentality. Instead of being quickly defensive and never taking criticism well, he gradually took advice from his peers. Especially Kirishima, his best friend and now manager.

You knew nothing about MMA or what it entailed when he would talk about matches or fights that were coming up on the weekend. He would be rambling excitedly with so much passion that there was a growing flame in his eyes. You wanted to be supportive of your husband’s dreams, regardless if sometimes he would end up bloody and scarred. When he would start coming home from training sessions and sparring days, heaving and probably exhausted as hell, with a huge prideful grin on his face, that was enough for you. You could never take that fire away from him even if you didn’t like the cons. 

Spending his nights more and more in the gym, and increasing tenfold whenever there was a match right around the corner, it worried you that he wasn’t getting the proper amount of rest and nutrition. Hell, the pro even had a nutritionist yet he didn’t even follow the guidelines! He’s still so stubborn that you practically have to drag him out off the mats to even get the suggested hours of sleep.

By the time you arrived, you hoped that he had already showered and changed into more better smelling clothes, but there he is, still pounding away at the swinging punching bag. When he texted you to pick him up at 7 PM sharp, you thought that meant that he’d be finished. The rattling of the chain it’s connected to and switching of feet is something you don’t think you’d ever get tired of. The scent of the gym was most likely embedded into your clothes. After all, this was your life just as much as it was his.

He clasps his hands behind his head, breathing heavily and eyes closed so he can’t see your figure patiently waiting for him to finish. In a swift motion, he chucks off his headphones and they fall to floor while he rubs on his face, smearing all the sweat out of his eyes.

“Babe,” you call out, causing his head to snap in your direction with unknowing ruby hues. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. Large hands weave through his hair and you swear that he should have a modeling contract already. The rippling of his abs, the v-line, his happy trail. You couldn’t wait until he had more days off so you could have him all to yourself again. Selfish as it was, you missed your man. “Lemme grab my duffel.”

“I’ll wait for you outside, Suki.”

With your back leaned against the brick wall of the UFC training gym, you tap at your phone, sending messages in the group chat with your friends and to Kirishima, urging him to consult his friend about ‘pushing his limit’.

Bakugou slings the duffel over his shoulder, the damp tank stuffed somewhere with his gloves, headphones, and protein bars. With one last look at the dimly lit gym, he knocks on the drywall as a farewell. Not once in his life had he ever felt this anxious about a fight. Of course he kept up the facade to his friends and the press, ignoring their advances to get inside of his mind and try to manipulate or create some petty beef between him and his opponents. Deep down, it really did get to him. It shattered his confidence when he couldn’t land certain jabs the right way, or his round kicks didn’t have enough vigor. He didn’t know precisely why, and the feelings of insecurity went away only after he won. If he somehow ended up with a loss under his belt, he’d lock himself in the bedroom after long and intense days of even more training, driving himself up the wall with aches and pains, refusing to talk to anyone except you and his Kirishima. That being said, he hasn’t had a loss in over two years.

Warm and sweaty lips press against your temple and you swat him away with a teasing grin, though you can’t deny you missed feeling them on your skin. He opens the passenger door to his freshly cleaned black Jeep Wrangler for you, shutting it once you’re settled in and sauntering to the other side. The purr of the engine starts, and he takes off towards your shared penthouse.

Money had never been an issue for Bakugou’s family. From the start, he’s been well off because of his parents’ contributions into the fashion industry. His own childhood home was a freaking mansion. Albeit, money was never a bad thing to have, but it was something you didn’t care for. Of course, mucho dinero makes the world go ‘round, but was it a priority? The simplest answer is no. Most women that succumb into the world of big UFC fights don’t know about the business behind it, only thinking that they’ll never have to work a day in their life if they somehow ended up marrying the guy. These are only mere rumors that you’ve read about in the tabloids, but when Bakugou complained about an offer another manager made to him in the locker room, that confirmed that it had a dirty underbelly. Luckily, your boyfriend had never been weak to fall into such traps, so it didn’t worry you. Those kinds of deals would send your boyfriend’s career into the ground. Even if Bakugou was poor and living on the streets, with no notoriety to his name, you’d still be there in a cardboard box begging for spare change right along with him. You’d made that very clear from the get-go, and he appreciated it more than you’d ever know.

Press conferences were his least favorite things to do, right next to sponsors and commercials. Too many shifty reporters trying to get a story to bump up their ratings for their shitty tabloids and blogs. He sincerely didn’t want to be there; they could tell from the scowl and daggers he sent into the crowd of mics and notepads. He taps on the counter of the table irritably, logos of various brands ironed onto the white cloth. Muscle Milk, Bud Light, Harley Davidson. A little place-card with Bakugou Katsuki labeled as if nobody knew who he is. So many hours that went into preparing for this moment, from him putting on that wretched sweat suit to shed a few more pounds of water weight and basically living day and night at the gym, just to meet the weigh-in requirements weren’t for nothing.

“Thank you guys for coming out tonight. Let’s start with the first question,” the man at the podium with wild hair and glasses announces excitedly. Bakugou places his cheek in his palm. A male’s voice calls out from the crowd, “This one is for Bakugou. What is the expected outcome for you for this fight, and what course of action do you plan on taking to reach that goal?”

The ash blond sighs before glancing at Kirishima at the sidelines, giving him an encouraging thumbs-up. “Of course, like with any match, I wanna win. That’s why I fight in the first place. As for the course of action, I’ve been training day in and day out, working my ass off to even make it to where I am right now. Even now, I still do the same shit, just at different intensity and levels. That’s all it is, really, just hard work. But it’s a plus when you’re a natural talent like me,” he smugly admits with a nonchalant shrug, tossing a challenging glare at his opponent. Kirishima’s shoulders droop and he huffs exasperatedly. The mismatched hair split right down the middle and bi-colored eyes narrowed in annoyance at Bakugou’s arrogance, but it’s nothing short of what he expected.

“Let’s go ahead with Todoroki. What first came to mind when you realized that you would be up against Bakugou? He’s a two time UFC heavyweight champion, the youngest to ever do it. Are you hopeful?”

A pale hand swipes his bangs to the side and he crosses his forearms on the table. “I admire him to an extent, as far as his skills go. As for his personality, I think it could use some work. I would say I have a pretty good chance at winning and taking that title from him, so I am quite confident that I’ll win.”

“Like hell you do!” Bakugou slams his fist on the table, pushing off of it to rise to his feet and snarl at Todoroki. Photos begin snapping in a frenzy trying to get their next photo cover. “You better put up a damn good fight, Half and Half, ‘cause I guarantee that I won’t go easy on you.”

He simply blinks calmly, holding his stare. “I didn’t plan on it, Ground Zero.”

Eight PM is when the match is supposed to begin, and you can’t stop bouncing your knee anxiously, waiting to see your husband emerge from the locker room. It was a surreal experience to see his many fans cheer him on from the crowd, and while he ignores the boos that occasionally are thrown his way, you couldn’t just let their harsh words slide. Perhaps some of his personality had rubbed off on you, because some of the things that came out of your mouth didn’t seem like they were your own.

So you sit front row where the A-list celebrities usually watch from, munching on popcorn and beer while you sip on your water, glancing at the countdown that ticks from the big cube TVs in the center of the arena. There’s a loud, pounding bass from hip-hop music and you already know that Bakugou is nervous.

He stands before Kirishima, throwing punches through the air as a warm up and sending low kicks into his friend’s leg pads while the redhead sends him some inspirational speech about how he’s the best that ever did it, yadda yadda yadda. He’s heard it all before, so he hunches over on the bench and plugs in his headphones, while the press snap photos one after the other shamelessly and cutting their pep talk short. The red-head was much ‘classier’ per se, at handling those kinds of things better than he did, so he let him do his job as manager and escort them out of the locker room.

On cue, the blonde is ushered out into the fenced arena, walking down a long pathway with a booming rap melody as the host introduces him, and immediately, he locks eyes with you. One leg is crossed over the other and you sit there with a prideful smile, until it looks like someone behind you says something you didn’t quite like.

“You might as well take your ass back home, Ground Zero! Don’t wanna show the world that you’re just a pussy who can’t take the heat!”

With a menacing glare, you twist your head so fast at the taunting and irritating voice that you might’ve given yourself whiplash. “Hey!” You point a finger at the middle-aged and balding man. “Sit your old ass down or I’ll put you in the fuckin’ nursing home tonight!”

The guy begrudgingly does as he’s told, and you face the arena once more, focusing on the cutman swiping vaseline on Bakugou’s forehead, cheekbones, and chin. What the man said was partly correct; the world would in fact be watching. After all, it was probably a fight that everyone, be they fans of MMA or not, had been waiting for. It was only a matter of time before Todoroki and Bakugou were pitted against each other, aired on TV under pay-per-view as the feud of the decade.

“What’s happening, Vegas!” The hosts’ introductory speech interrupts the loud screaming fans in the crowd. “We got an interesting match-up tonight! In one corner, we have the current UFC heavyweight champion, Bakugou ‘Ground Zero’ Katsuki!” Cheers erupt more deafening than before. “In the other, it’s Todoroki ‘Half and Half’ Shouto!”

The referee stands in between the two men, going over rules and time. The routine, at this point. With one last glance at your boyfriend, nodding for reassurance, and for a split second he winks at you with a playful smirk, though he keeps that same determined scowl a moment later.

The entire match was over in three rounds, two less than the original. Bakugou landed precise jabs, and Todoroki nearly shattered his shin from a wrong kick. The foot placement was all wrong, and ended up having to be escorted out on a stretcher in crippling pain. Typical newbie mistake; Half and Half had only been in the ring for a solid 2 years since his debut. He still needed some work, clearly, but he put up a good fight in your opinion. He held his ground and was impressive at dodging and pivoting in defense.

Bakugou, not so much. The whole ride back to the hotel was filled with him cursing and mumbling to himself, practically ignoring Kirishima’s attempts to console him. His thumb gently taps against the open scratches under his eyebrow and hisses when it stings. Maybe he should’ve patched it up when he was in the locker room.

“Was I not worth him perfecting those skills or what? I told his ass to come at me with all he’s got, and he gives me this shit! Un-fucking-believable.”

“Suki,” you nudge his shoulder, “Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“You don’t get it…,” he growls, “I didn’t win because of my hard work or my skill, I won because that fucker injured his damn self and took the easy way out.”

“Not gonna lie, Bakugou, I’m pretty sure Todoroki’s embarrassed. That was a huge mistake, plus he’s fairly new at the sport,” Kirishima bargains with him. That makes some of the tension deflate from his forehead.

“Exactly,” you chime in, “You did amazing as always. You can’t control the actions of others. All that should matter is that you know you put in work. You earned it, Suki.”

The blonde scoffs, narrowed eyes watching the nightlife outside the car window. “Whatever. But when the time comes around, I want a goddamn rematch.”

Back at the hotel, you suggested going out to distract his mind from everything else. Vegas was notorious for its casinos and bars, after all, but Bakugou simply declared that being around strangers drunk off their asses wasn’t really his scene, and instead he pulled you into your hotel room. A sly smirk forms on his lips when you go to kick off your heels at the door, and his hands are deep in the pockets of his form-fitting jeans. You smile back demurely.

“What?”

“I was thinking, ya know…I still got two rounds in me.” A pink tongue swipes against his teeth, gesturing with his head towards the bed and saunters off in its direction. He sits on the edge of the mattress, leaning back on his palms patiently. When it came to everything else in his life, he’d always been so eager. During times with you, he’d like to cherish and drag it out for as long as he could. Never sure when he’d get another chance with his busy and ever-changing schedule.

You hum, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger as you stalk towards him. A gleaming and excited smile gracing your lips. “You wanna go two rounds with me, champ? You think you can handle it?” Your thighs straddle his waist and your hands gently cup his cheeks, lidded eyes boring into your own in anticipation. Hips grind into his tauntingly, and he huffs at the friction against the growing tent in his jeans. He lays back, allowing you to crawl up his body. 

You hike up the hem of your bodycon dress, exposing lace panties and a garter belt that was hidden underneath. The straps attached to the matching hosiery that adorned your long legs. Large hands run along the sides of your torso until they reach under and grip your ass, squeezing roughly. 

“Trust,” he mumbles as he bites at your lower lip. “You’re going to be a trembling mess when I’m done with you.” 

You snicker when a finger shoves its way through the lace, running along your wet folds before stroking gently at the nub. Gasping into his mouth, your tongue grazes over the roof of it. 

“Give me all you got, champion.”

Due to the fortunate circumstances of Bakugou’s growing wealth, you both held summer barbeques and invited old high school friends to visit. With a monster-sized pool and spacious backyard, there was no reason not to. Your husband, however, always managed to put up a front that he would rather ‘kiss his own ass’ than throw a get together, yet he was always by your side every year, with the cutest and grumpiest pout you’d ever see. Deep down, you knew he was enjoying reminiscing with his old buddies that made up his little squad. Kaminari, Mina, Sero and even Jirou sat poolside, chatting and laughing while holding up a few glasses of beer.

Midoriya and his daughter play in the shallow end of the pool. Her deep green hair splaying out on the surface of the water as she sits in her floatie, splashing away at her father while he laughs adoringly. It hit a certain sweet spot in your heart; one that caused raging baby fever but still left you uncertain. You had really been meaning to tell your husband, but were scared to death of what it would change. Marriage was the easiest thing, and it only brought you two closer and solidified what you knew to be true. Getting married at 21 was not something you planned, of course, but it was a no-brainer decision. But a baby? You weren’t sure if you were actually ready. Though if your husband was, that would be all reassurance you needed. Until that moment came, though, the pregnancy stick hid in your bathroom drawer, over on your side of the cabinets filled with tampons and other lady necessities. That was a place Bakugou never bothered to roam, so it was a good spot. It stayed there for two weeks now, the two lines etched into the tiny screen. Two weeks for you to figure out on how to tell him, and two weeks to hide your constant fatigue and nausea. More likely than not, you were well into your first trimester and now was a better time than any to tell him the news.

“You had to invite Deku, huh? At least his kid’s cute,” the blonde grunts, rubbing a hand on your lower back as you lean over the porch railing. You snicker as you watch Midoriya throw her up into the air and catch her, just barely dipping her tiny body into the water.

“I only invited him so I could see her, honestly. The baby pictures Ochako sent me weren’t enough.”

He’s quiet, and it’s an odd contrast to the rambling of people and the blaring of music. Normally he’s one of the loudest ones there. You peer up at him as his features contort into deep thought. The tension between his eyebrows soften and his eyes glimmer with an unfamiliar emotion, the laughter of the little toddler bubbling into the air.

“What’re you thinking about?”

His lips peck your temple and he waves off the feeling. What was he thinking about? How would he even know what to do with a kid? Especially with his career and how busy things are getting, you’d probably be the one stuck at home to take care of them, and he didn’t want that. But he was willing to try, and man did it hit him hard to see you fawn over anyone and everyone’s daughter or son, practically sending him a pleading look afterwards. He knew it without you even having to say it. The idea of having a child with you was something he’d fantasize about for a while, but too in his element to bring it up.

“I wouldn’t mind the idea of starting a family, you know. Could be fun.”

Your eyes widen. It seemed too good to be true. “Y-you want to start a family?”

“Yeah, why not. Always wanted a mini-me,” he smiles dreamily. Already picturing a daughter or son with his glistening red eyes and ashy blond hair. Even if they had your features, he’d be more than satisfied.

“Suki..,” you grin incredulously, a burst of a chuckle leaving your throat. You place a hand on your stomach, just above your belly button and rub gently. He follows your movements, before his eyes widen and mouth agape.

“You’re..?”

“I took a test a couple weeks ago,” you sigh. “I’m sorry, I should have told you when I found out, but I was scared. Your career is going so well and I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you-”

“Ruin it?” He asks in disbelief. “Babe, I’m going to be a fucking father!” His strong arms pull you into his chest rather roughly, but you giggle regardless as he loosens his grasp. “That’s the biggest blessing you could ever give me.”

The blonde pulls away, pressing his lips to yours in a longing and tenderhearted kiss before glancing around at your friends.

“Guess what, assholes?! I’m gonna be a father! I’m having a baby!”

Your group of friends clap excitedly and send a flurry of cheers, as his squad runs up to him with congratulatory smiles and hugs, though mainly for you. Mina kisses you on the cheek, Kaminari places a kind hand on your shoulder before giving you felicitations. The rest follow suit, and you’re abruptly pulled into a conversation with Hagakure and Mina about a baby shower and gender reveal party. It all happened so fast that you quickly became overwhelmed. Damn, you just found out two weeks ago and now they’re talking about months from now. Placing a comforting hand on your belly and sending a glance towards your husband, deep into a conversation with Kirishima and Sero, he stands with a tiny smile before meeting your eyes. The happy gleam in his eyes is what tells you that everything will be just fine.

Chapter Text

Summer time meant no school and no responsibilities. It meant you could goof off and go to your parents’ lake house with your friends, go to the little diner that served milkshakes and fries on the corner of the neighborhood. Hang out in Kirishima’s dusty basement and just watch TV, sit on the worn-out couch that had seen way too many days and munch on chips or whatever the redhead had in his pantry that day.

That was what you planned on doing. Kaminari left to go out of town to visit family, and Mina had practically skipped town for a random adventure with other mutual friends that you didn’t care to join and instead decided to spend your days watching reruns of Studio Ghibli films and lounging on the sofa. Kirishima and Sero spent their days either at work or with their girlfriends, leaving you and a certain raging blonde alone together for most of the time during the day.

You don’t know why, or how, Bakugou thought it would be a good idea to hang out with you; the two of you barely exchanged any kinds of communication and didn’t even bother to be civil with each other, always butting heads whenever the time came around. You didn’t like him in the slightest. He wore old band t-shirts and listened to heavy punk music and always seemed so...dirty. He’s rude and obnoxious and wasn’t at all a gentleman, never afraid to give his two-cents even if it wasn’t warranted. He’s the type of boy you never thought you’d see yourself with, and was even disgusted with to even look at.

With his arms crossed and slouched, he sits beside you. You fiddle boredly with the hem of your peplum top, not even bothering to pay attention to a movie you’d seen about a hundred times. There was nothing else to watch, nothing else to do, so you dealt with it. Bakugou seemed to have the same idea.

You take in a deep breath, the only sound other than the low dialogue radiating from the TV, and you give a quick glance at him. A quick second, just enough time to see if he was actually paying attention. Coincidentally, he looks at you the same time you do. And you both stare. Staring turned into leaning into one another, and leaning into one another turned into kissing. Heavily. Tongue in mouth, lewd sucking and biting and all.

The wet muscle slides against your own, his lips so soft and plush as he kisses you eagerly, as if he’d been waiting for such a long time to do so. No words are exchanged, none were needed. You said all you had to say in that one makeout session.

Apparently, that one time wasn’t sufficient and you both continued your little secret from the rest of the group, whenever you two found time and whenever you were alone. It quickly became one of the quickest and most pleasant pastimes and you found yourself yearning for these kinds of heated moments with the fiery blonde, so much that it turned into an addiction. One look shared between you two, no matter what you were doing or who you were with, and you were at it like rabbits.

Fast forward a month, and you’re at the few weeks before the next semester of school began. A desperate time to get all your summer fun out before you were trapped in the dorms, succumbing to the educational system yet again. The only thing you were focusing on, however, was how strong and muscular the blonde felt as he hovered over you, peppering kisses along your neck as you clung onto him for dear life.

You don’t even notice the door click and the abrupt halt of footsteps.

“What the hell?!” The shrill voice of Mina resonated off the walls, much to your annoyance and disappointment. Bakugou couldn’t care less, his body still sat on top of your own and suddenly you feel hot; embarrassed.

“On my couch, Bakugou? Seriously?” Kirishima huffs, waving his hands to gesture to the dull green sofa.

“Sorry, man,” he grunts, and begrudgingly lifts himself off of you, your hands quickly pushing down your skirt and brushing off your blouse.

“How in the holy hell did this happen?” Wide yellow and black eyes stare deeply into yours and you feel cornered, but you just blink back at her, just as confused by her question as they are about the situation.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure it stemmed from boredom,” you murmur, glancing from your lover to your friends.

“But don’t you two hate each other?” Kirishima shoots back. “And what’s Kaminari gonna think?”

Oh, how you forgot about the little electric man that sought after your affections. Being your best friend, it was obvious how he felt about you; everyone else seemed to point out that he’s had a crush on you since grade school, and it made you feel guilty whenever you went on to date other guys, leaving him on the sidelines to occupy himself until your romancing was over. He was probably going into a rut again if he ever found out. For some odd reason you felt somehow responsible for making him happy.

“Come on, guys, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a little fling.”

“Yeah!” You agree. “We can cut it off whenever we want. Denki doesn’t have to know.”

“Then do it. You know how heartbroken he’s going to be,” the redhead sighs, rubbing his neck. “He’s my friend. And yours, too, Bakugou! You should’ve known better than to mess around inside the squad. This literally goes against the rules of the bro-code!”

“It’s not my fault that she wants me!” He defends himself, and you cut daggers at him.

“Actually, you came onto me .” An obvious lie, but no one else has to know that it was very much so consensual on both ends.

“Whatever,” Mina rolls her eyes, slumping into the little folding chair. “Usually I’m all for the whole bad-boy gets rich-and-beautiful girl trope, but I don’t want this to tear apart the group, so end it before he does find out.”

You would think that you both would have learned your lesson, but no, of course not. After the scolding from your friends it only made the fuel to the fire burn brighter, and hotter. Hotter was good. Even if the basement became occupied, you and Bakugou would go out to restaurants and movies, which were dates if one were being technical. Occasionally during especially desperate times, he would sneak you into his room during the night time when everyone was presumed to be asleep. Just simply enjoying the other’s company, despite your differences and despite the obvious disagreement from your friends.

He walks you back to Kirishima’s house from another one of your outings, kissing you on the cheek to which you smile sweetly in response. And Kaminari sees the whole thing unravel, from Bakugou’s hands on your waist, to you wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a loving kiss.

Kirishima and Mina tried to stop it from happening, they really did, but he wouldn’t budge. He had to go into the kitchen to get his special grape soda. And you both had to just walk in front of the sliding door, for everyone inside to witness.

In a fit of anger, Kaminari rushes out into the driveway. “Bakugou, you disgusting sack of lard! I thought we were friends!”

“Hah?!” The blonde narrows his eyes, and you stand there, perplexed and guilty. Even though your best friend had no type of relationship claim on you, it still felt wrong. “Come on, man. You guys were never together!”

“You know how I feel about her and you still put your grubby little punk fingers on her!”

The pair resort to shoving and throwing hands, and before it gets even more physical, you merge in between them, preventing them from throwing any more punches and causing damage. You admit, you did feel some kind of regret towards the whole thing, but it wasn’t like you even had to explain yourself. Kaminari wasn’t your boyfriend and you had no feelings towards him that wasn’t strictly platonic, but you felt like you still owed him some kind of explanation.

“Can I talk to Denki alone?” It’s more of a demand than a statement, and everyone disperses leaving you both outside on the porch.

“You know that I like you, right? But it doesn’t go much further than that.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, leaning against a post. “It still hurts though, especially since Bakugou doesn’t seem like your type and he’s one of my friends, I guess.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, I didn’t think he was, either. But I like Katsuki now. I really need you to be okay with it for the sake of the group.”

“Fine, fine.” A soft grin spreads on his face and he holds his arms out. “Hug?”

“Sure.”

He tugs you into his embrace and grabs onto your torso tightly, before his lips nearly land on your own as soon as you go to pull away. You slap him on the arm.

“Really?! We just talked about this, Denki!”

“Aww, come on! Just because you guys are together it doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop trying!”

You burst into a fit of laughter before trudging along to the back door, Kaminari following suit. “You are such a freak.”

Chapter Text

“Excellent! That’s it, just like that, Hawks! You’re phenomenal!”

The photographers were always so up the pro hero’s ass that it made you cringe with disgust. Not like you disagreed with them, Hawks was a dime a dozen and even you could admit that, but seeing people kiss his ass so much when they didn’t have to made an unfamiliar emotion emerge from your chest. Jealousy? No, couldn’t be. Maybe you really were just fed up with them acting like he was above everyone else when in reality he was the most down to earth hero you have ever come across. That made it all the more cringe-worthy but very exemplary regardless. Over the past year, you've seen how much he'd grown not only as a person, but as a hero. People across all of Japan held him to the upmost respect for his efforts to keep the country safe and doing so with a friendly smile.

As his assistant, it was a monthly chore to attend the modeling shoots for magazine covers and advertisements, a few commercials here and there. The particular one you were at right now was for a popular magazine issue that began since the 1970s, Playgirl. Knowing Hawks had a decently sized ego, you didn’t think he’d go this far as to accept it. His credibility for his hero work could be in jeopardy, but he claimed it would be good promotion and he would gain a lot more notoriety and a wider fanbase, so you resigned all your efforts to stop him and just let the stubborn man do what he pleased. Despite you yourself agreeing, you physically felt nauseous at the idea of millions of girls and grown women, even gay men, fawning over your boss. You’ve never even looked at him in that way, so the thought made you uncomfortable. At least that’s what you told yourself. Even so, why should you care if he poses half-nude for the cover? You don’t.

With his strong muscular arms stretched out in front of him as he bends forward on a wooden stool, his bright red wings flex to their fullest and a sultry gleam grows his amber eyes. That are coincidentally staring right at you.

“Delicious,” you mumble under your breath, clutching your clipboard to your chest and mouth gaping like a damn dog in heat. Shit, get yourself together.

“(Y/N)? What do you think?” The photographer asks, bursting your serene bubble and bringing you back to reality.

“Huh?”

“You said something. What do you think of these?” He presses the arrows on the camera, an array of images on the screen. All of them look incredible and beautiful.

“Good. Are we almost done?” Please say no.

“Almost! We still have to do one more of him in a particular scene.” Thank the lord.

With one last amused glance, Hawks’ eyes leave your flushed face and follow the stylists into the back room. You check the list of activities due by the end of the day; emails still need to be sent and some phone calls need to be returned, but there’s nothing else on the agenda. You could finish everything when you got home.

A couple minutes later, a changed Hawks emerges from behind the backdrop, and your thighs could not have clenched any tighter. A simple white button up, though you could hardly call it buttoned up, tucked into form-fitting navy trousers. It exposes his bare chest and his hair is styled messily, a strand curling into his face. He winks at you when he catches you admiring the change of attire, and you roll your eyes with a steaming blush on your cheeks.

The whole shoot lasts another thirty minutes until he’s changed into his regular clothes, and you’re driving back to the agency.

“Ah, that was fun! I’m really glad I did this. Just wait until the issue comes out!” He boasts, smiling happily out the window of the car. You hum absentmindedly in agreement, going through your missed texts.

“What’d you think? I think my favorite was the one where they had me in the suit. I actually looked like a real boss, eh?”

For a moment, you consider entertaining him. Dangling what he’s always wanted right in his face, but it wouldn’t be fair. You knew he had a bad habit of flirting with you any chance he got, but this time he was genuinely talking to you instead of making playful conversation. If you didn’t play your words right, he could take it the wrong way, so you hesitate before grinning shyly, fidgeting in your seat.

“I liked the concept where you resembled a fallen angel of some sort. It was really remarkable how you conveyed that in your poses and expressions,” you ramble thoughtfully, pressing your index finger to your chin. Hawks blinked owlishly at you before grinning widely, reaching for your raised hand and tucking it between his own.

“Are you complimenting me?! You’re too kind!” Mock tears build up in his eyes as he caresses the back of your hand while your eye twitches anxiously. Either way you put it, he would take it as a gesture of your affections.

Granted, you could be a little cold and professional when it came to your relationship to Hawks. He preferred to lay it all out on the table, carelessly throwing cards out one right after the other, his dedication to winning your heart never faltering no matter how many times you shut him down. That didn’t mean his advances weren’t welcomed or appreciated, and though your exterior showed otherwise, you were afraid of the consequences for fooling around with your boss. After all, being born quirkless and thus of no real use to the work of heroes, an assistant is all you would ever amount to. Of course, you’ve never told Hawks any of your feelings and rather buried them into the back of your head, not wanting to dwell on such facts any longer. Still, while the relationship aspect and growing feelings with the number two hero stayed constant, never subsiding nor escalating, you were content in admiring from afar as if you were a fan.

“Got any plans for tonight?” He casually brings up what he already knows. After spending nearly a year together, what you did on weekends was more paperwork than he would have liked, but it was something you were content in doing if it meant less of a workload the following week.

“Actually, I ha-“

“Great! There’s this cool bar I know downtown, the atmosphere is really laid back and I been meaning to check it out.”

You nod, clearly unenthused, itching to leave the moving vehicle to avoid the temptation of those heavenly chocolate eyes. “Why don’t you take Mirko? You two seem like good friends.”

“Mirko?” He says incredulously, as if it were ridiculous to even suggest it. “She’s pretty cool and all, but I was thinking that you and I could get a couple drinks! You know, like colleagues!”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Hawks,” your voice wavers a bit, and any seconds more he would have sunk his talons into you and like always, you would be dragged along to do whatever he wanted.

“Too unprofessional, huh?” You nod. “Well, let’s go as friends! Nothing wrong with that, right? Just two friends having a good time!”

Without waiting for a response, he tells the chauffeur the location of the bar and the directions. Knowing him, he would have preferred to fly, regardless of where to, but you had an irrational fear of heights, thus rendering him on the ground as long as you were around. Which, unfortunately for his aching wings, dying to be stretched out, was constantly. Not that he really cared. Spending time with you could beat spending time in the air, feeling the wind through his feathers and watching the bustling of rush hour traffic below. You made him feel just as good.

Within a half hour, you arrive at a classic state of the art bar, orchestrated with neon signs and dark tinted windows on the corner of a busy street. A tiny hollow bell rings from above the door, and for a Friday night, it’s quiet. A few people sit on the stools, swirling the ice in their glasses of caramel liquid and perhaps sitting at a bar would be more casual, as it lacked the intimacy of a restaurant. Hawks was right about the atmosphere; calm music played through the speakers and there was idle chatter among the occupants, and he drags you to a corner booth next to a window.

As if on cue, a bartender arrives with a glass of dark beer for him, and a glass of water of you. The pro hero tells him to add it to his tab. You narrow your eyes.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’m quite sure you said that this was your first time coming here.”

“Oh! I did?” He takes a large gulp. “Well, it is my first time coming here! With you, that is.”

A hostile thought crosses your mind for a split second: he probably takes all of his groupies here. Before you can even process why you thought about what Hawks did in his private affairs, you blush scarlet in embarrassment at the preposterous assumptions.

“Anyway, should we start you off with something light? Let’s see...how about one of those cocktails girls seem to like?” He skims over the menu plastered onto the back wall, and you don’t even bother deciding on what to get. Alcohol wasn’t something you considered your friend. “A Blue Lagoon! That sounds interesting! You want it?”

“I suppose, but I don’t know if I’ll finish it.”

“No worries! You can barely taste the alcohol in it, it’ll be like drinking fruit juice.”

You quirked an eyebrow doubtfully, but resign with a sigh. Hawks makes small conversation while throwing in his usual flirty comments, and a few minutes later you’re sipping hastily at your Blue Lagoon cocktail. It came prepared in a highball glass, garnished with a lemon slice and was tinted a baby blue shade. It tasted like lemonade, no alcohol detected by your taste buds, so you ordered another glass. An hour later, and your face turned into a delightful flush of pink and your hair was out of its ponytail, now hanging down in waves across your back.

Laughs and giggles began to bubble from your throat completely unintentionally at Hawks’ attempts to down two shots at once, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to prevent your laughter from bursting through. Hawks’ eyes gleam in drunken adoration as he grabs it, pulling the limb away from your face, once again caressing your fingers and knuckles before leaning into the palm of his other hand.

“Your laugh is so pretty, (Y/N). I wish you laughed more with me,” he whines cutely.

If it weren’t for the alcohol brewing through your veins, you would have snatched your hand away, but you didn’t. Subconsciously this is what you wanted, though. It was hard to admit, but you saw him watching your every move around his office. Hidden meanings behind his words, enchanting for anyone else but you paid no mind. That sensual look at the photo shoot only confirmed it. He wanted you deeply, just as badly as you did of him, but the only difference was that he was willing to act on those feelings. He wasn’t scared of the repercussions or what people would think around the office, and you were certain that they knew of his obvious interest in you. So what was really holding you back? That he would see that you’re just an average woman with nothing extravagant to offer but an expansive knowledge of how to use Microsoft Excel and making appointments, the very most of your assigned tasks performing extensive research into the late hours of the night. Hawks wasn’t like that. If anything, he would want a partner he could shelter from the spotlight and keep hidden; safe to live their life as normal while he dealt with the press and tabloids. He was the type to put all the burdens on himself before he ever let anyone else help him out. A selfless and humble hero he had always been.

Now there really were no feasible excuses you could come up with, at least none that would make sense when you’re sober. So with the liquid courage you now possessed, you smiled crookedly at the tipsy winged hero as he peppered kisses along your fingertips, trailing up to your wrist. In a blur, he managed to whisk you away into the car again, and suddenly you were unable to keep your hands off of him. His cheeks were tinged red, his eyelids weighing heavy and his lips tasted like beer, but you kissed him anyway, relishing in the way his tongue glides against the roof of your mouth. He moans softly into it like he was waiting his whole life for it to happen. A short lust-ridden drive later, the door to his loft swings open and promptly shuts, with you pressed against the bed sheets and the buttons of your blouse becoming undone.

You awoke the next morning with your face pressed flush against a soft pillow, dried drool collecting in the corner of your mouth. You wipe it away sleepily, wiggling deeper into the plush comforter and into the arms of- wait .

Like a bolt of lightning shot through your body, you rip off the sheets and jump to your feet in horror. Mortified, you scan the scene before you. Hawks groaned lazily as his hand swipes across the fabric, searching for the warm body that once occupied the space next to him. When he realized it was empty, he hazily blinked his eyes awake. Shirtless and most likely bottomless as well, he rubs his eyes and yawns before gazing at your rigid figure. You claw at the sides of your head, a subtle pounding beating against your temples. A frown merges onto your lips and Hawks mirrors it, concerned but oblivious to the real problem at hand.

“What happened?” You ask halfheartedly. You knew exactly what happened, you were just ashamed.

“Uh, well,” he switches to his backside. “I think we slept together?”

“Why are you answering my question with a question?”

“Because I wasn’t exactly sober last night, either.”

“I was drunk?!”

He props himself up on his elbow with a crooked grin. “You don’t remember?” You shake your head, ignoring the headache and heaving a sigh. “Well, we could always make new memories like last night, anyway.”

“This was a one time thing, whatever it was. I’m your assistant, Hawks!”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Now fully awake, he pushes himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Feathers sway into the air and dust the bedsheets and his wings are messy. You vaguely recall rubbing the base and earning a delightful moan from the hero. You blush and cross your arms, frowning at your own stupidity.

A flash of an unfamiliar emotion crosses Hawks face, but it fades within moments. It leaves just enough time to analyze it. Hurt? Disappointment? Anger? A blend of all three?

You spy a random t-shirt flung on the carpet and throw it on, at least salvaging what little dignity you had left. It hangs just above your knees and smells like him- like bergamot and mandarin.

“Do you not feel the same way? I-I thought you...we…,” he falters, blinking at his lap before sighing deeply. “I really like you, (Y/N).”

Your forehead wrinkles in uncertainty and a splash of guilt, and you could feel your walls crumbling at the confession.

“I know,” you murmur, biting your lip. “It’s not that, Hawks.”

“Then what is it?” He pleads, warm brown eyes searching yours for any solace you could offer. You suck your teeth; you had already slept with the man, shown him your naked self, so what difference would it make?

“I’m a nobody,” you say quietly, fidgeting with your fingertips and avoiding his gaze. In a short moment, his hands are cupping your cheeks and he kisses your forehead.

“But you mean everything to me.”

Your eyes perk up from the carpet in disbelief. The words sounded so sincere falling from his mouth that you were tempted to ask him to repeat it. His tone was soft and the look in his eyes nearly weakened your knees, a wind rustling the flowers blooming in your chest and it made you feel like spring.

So with a small, relieved smile you crawl back into his arms as a protective wing draws you closer. He presses kisses to your shoulder and your fingers wander through tangled hair.

“I have an idea,” he chirps. “Why don’t we shower and get some brunch?”

“Hmm,” you murmur, feigning consideration of the idea and lining the perimeter of his face with a finger before hooking it under his chin and kissing him. “Together?”

“You read my mind.”

Chapter Text

A pair of pink lips wrap around a cherry lollipop before offering it to you with loving chocolate eyes. His cheeks are flushed crimson from the sun and it only causes the pale dashes of freckles to become more prominent. With your mouth open, ready to close around the sucker, he snatches it away before you get a chance. You grimace as he smirks childishly, and you slap his bare shoulder. He ignores your attempts at reclaiming the lollipop, swiftly maneuvering from your grasp, and looks out towards the sea. Crowds of people are crammed together like sardines, laughing and playing in the water while those on shore are sunbathing, like the two of you, or eating. Swing music can be heard from the boardwalk a short distance across the pier, that separates the sand and waves from wood and carnival rides. This was the joy of coming to Coney Island during summer. Between being uncomfortably packed and busy, it quickly became a tradition for you and Hawks to visit once a year.

“We picked a good time to come out, huh?” He jokes, sarcasm lacing his question and you roll your eyes, laying back on your palms against the soft towel.

“It is a Saturday, you know.” His arm wraps around your shoulder as he pops the lollipop into your unsuspecting mouth.

Supposedly, he enjoyed being around people. He rarely made a fuss about whether or not the restaurants were too packed or the movie theatre had little seats. You wonder why now, of all the times you’ve come to Coney Island, he has to complain.

“There’s always the rocks further down shore. Want to take a walk?”

You groan, slumping into his side dramatically before pouting up at his handsome pink face.

“I suppose,” you huff. “But make sure to bring your hat. You’re going to burn.”

So he pulls his dirty blonde waves into a ponytail that sits on the base of his neck, and his baseball cap that blocks the sun rays from his eyes. Hopefully that will hold him over until sunset.

You begin the trek towards the rocks, far from the mass of drunk, stumbling bodies until you reach peace and quiet. Nothing but the sound of waves crashing onto boulders and the lapping of water cascading in between crevices reaches your ears, and you stand there, watching the horizon with your arm linked with his. Fingers curl around his bicep as he leads you to a safe spot among the peaks, where you can calmly admire the view.

“This will be our last summer together,” he says mournfully. The corners of his mouth are tugged into a frown, and there’s the slight creases of tension between his brow. “I want to make the best of it, you see.”

You had been awaiting this for quite some time. After all, the government had been making it a requirement for men of age to enlist, and Hawks was nearing twenty-three. Though you had trouble agreeing with the prospect of war, being a self-proclaimed pacifist, you were unavoidably greeted with the dismay of your lover being sent off to war. Since becoming twenty-one, you had plans for you and him. Attending university while he continues to work at the mechanic shop, spending holidays with your families, even travelling the east coast for as long as you could. Your entire world revolved around this man, and now your future, the one you so thoughtfully planned, could very well fall apart.

“I’d say we’re doing a good job so far,” you smile ruefully. No amount of time spent with him could ease the pain of him leaving.

“Yes,” he agrees. His hands take yours and he stands in front of you, with the radiant glow of the sun behind him. “It’s been perfect so far.”

He remains silent for a while, holding you close to his chest as you breathe in the scent of salt and seaweed, combined with the conditioner settling into Hawks’ hair. It’s almost like a scene out of a silent film, perfectly configured with no object out of place.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, (Y/N).”

That ruggedly sweet voice brings you out of your thoughts, and your heart surges with worry. The what if’s, the who, what, when, and how. But nothing brought you more serenity than looking into those deep brown hues of bronze.

“I think we should get married.”

It didn’t take you a second more to agree with him.

Chapter Text

Soft morning light pours in through the curtains, slowly pulling Bakugou out of sleep. Your leg is thrown on top of his, with shallow breaths leaving your mouth and hair messily splayed out around the pillow. He smiles as he admires the countenances that made you, you. The faint freckles that dot your cheekbones and the cupid’s bow of your lips, the bridge of your nose and the tense line that forms in between your brows whenever you’re dreaming.

He’d come to appreciate mornings like this, especially since they were increasingly hard to come by. Nobody told him that being a pro hero would be easy, but they didn’t mention that spending time away from your loved ones was practically an everyday thing. On most days, he rarely saw you, safe for the daily routine of kissing you on your forehead goodbye. In the mornings, he took off quite early before the sun rose, and you’d be sleeping. When he arrived home, you’d be sleeping. He doesn’t know if it’d be selfish of him to ask you to wait up for him every now and then, just so he can whisper you a goodnight and wrap you in his arms until the scent of your hair lulled him into dreamworld. 

Being that it’s a Saturday, a special Saturday at that, he knew you would be planning something. Whether it be a fancy breakfast or a simple trip to the park, he didn’t care. As long as he got to spend the whole day with you, and only you.

Bakugou had never truly cared about his birthday. Though he loved the parties when he was younger, of course when you’re five years old you barely have any understanding why or what you’re celebrating, over the years he grew to somewhat abhor it. There were too many people showering him with gifts and unnecessary things, however he very much liked the cake. He just despised the sentiment behind it. There was no logical reason as to congratulate him for reaching another year; it was to be expected, wasn't it? Now that he thought about it, other people weren't as lucky. 

Then you came into his life. A bright and energetic girl with long (h/c) hair tied into a ponytail, sealed with a red ribbon, bouncing as you walked past his table at lunch and smiling with such warmth that he confused you for the sun. At first, he avoided your attempts to befriend him, yet Kirishima wasn’t as stubborn and a complete shithead as he was in high school. He allowed you in to his circle so easily, much like he did with others, but he saw through Bakugou so quickly. The little blush that scattered his cheeks was difficult to hide whenever you beamed at him, and the way he stuttered whenever you asked him a question or even tried to talk to him. He would be a stupid, shy mess. So much so, that Kirishima decided it would be a good idea to set you up. If it weren’t for him, Bakugou wouldn’t be where he is right now, cuddled into your chest and listening to your heartbeat.

During the first year together officially as a couple, you were sad when you found out that Bakugou hated his birthday. The frown you wore when he told you his reasoning behind it made his stomach drop, like he was the bearer of bad news, but he didn’t see the big deal as to why you were so upset. You explained that if he wasn’t born, he wouldn’t be in your life. You would have never known who he is, his favorite foods, his dreams or ambitions. You wouldn’t know him at all, and it would break your heart in half.

Ever since, he celebrated every year with you without the huge ensemble of streamers or balloons, but he did receive a few texts from his coworkers and peers. It couldn’t be helped that you liked to brag about what you had planned, and it wasn’t like he wanted you to not be excited for him. He adored every sparkle in your eyes when he told you that the gifts were lovely, or that the dinner was amazing. Every year you managed to stun him with how thoughtful and caring your presents were.

You begin to stir, arms reaching past the headboard as you stretch, before blinking your eyes open and smiling down at the fluff of hair in your face. “Good morning, baby love!”

God, did he think your nickname for him was corny, but it was still the most adorable thing he would ever love hearing. Though raspy from sleep, your voice still carries the usual chipper. Your fingers run through the ash blonde strands, gently raking your nails on his scalp and he swears he can fall right back asleep.

“Good morning, angel eyes,” he responds groggily with his own disgustingly cute pet name for you. If anyone else found out, he’d kill them. You pretend to ponder for a bit, taking your time humming a popular tune before breaking out into a wide grin.

“Ne, Suki. Do you know what day it is?” You ask, and he can’t help but chuckle and lift his head up from your chest, finally meeting your eyes with a quirked eyebrow and playing along.

“No, what day is it?”
Your arms engulf him into a large hug, pulling him on top of you and snuggling into his neck with pure happiness. “It’s your birthday! My baby Katsuki’s birthday is today!” You sing your own little version of the happy birthday song, combined with a flurry of kisses all over his face.

He can’t imagine what he looks like right now, but he can guarantee that the euphoria coursing through his veins makes him look like a complete goofy idiot.

Small hands cup his cheeks as you gaze into his eyes, and for a moment he’s starstruck. How he ever got so lucky to have someone as wonderful as you in his life, he doesn’t know. Warm lips press into his own with such intensity that he takes a moment to adjust, before returning it with just as much passion.

You pull away for a second, leaving your lips brushing against each other and him following after you, wanting more. “Happy birthday, Katsuki. I love you so much.”

His heart swells with ardor as he goes to kiss you again, words muffling into your mouth. "I love you." 

Chapter Text

Coiled in your cubicle with a box of tissues and throat drops wasn’t exactly how you pictured your day going. Just because you woke up with a sore throat, it didn’t mean you were sick. Allergy season is in it’s peak with all the pollen and mold circulating in the air. It was only natural for your nose to be runny yet stuffy at the same time, and your voice to sound like you smoked a pack a day for the last ten years.

Your nose is sore and red from blowing it constantly, yet you persevered until lunch time rolled around. The clanking of heavy boots collided with the carpet of the office, signaling his return from patrol and some good old reprimanding from your very own one in a million. You did consider yourself lucky to avoid him while clocking in, because he would’ve sent you home with no ifs ands or buts. Now, you don’t think he’ll be too thrilled knowing you’re at work sick as a dog. Man, you should’ve just stayed in bed.

He knocks on the desk to get your attention, but your eyes remain focused on the screen in front of you. Normally you’d be peering up at him with a delighted smile, happy to see your most cherished person in the world, however you don’t want him to see how freaking awful you look and feel. You have no idea what you’re looking at, but it seems interesting. Numbers, words, symbols; your favorite.

“Hey,” he leans on his palm, his knuckles gently rubbing into your hair. “Let’s go get some lunch.”

You tilt your head up at him hesitantly, and that’s when his eyes sharpen and a curse flies from his mouth. “Ah, shit .”

Anyone could tell from your droopy eyes and flushed cheeks that you weren’t exactly feeling your best. You were definitely feeling like garbage. “I’m fine, Bakugou,” you sniffle. “It’s just-“

“If you say allergies, I’m kicking your ass.”

That causes your mouth to concave in on itself. He huffs before hoisting you up by your arm, and dragging you into the break room. Sheesh, did that subtle breeze from movement make you break into goosebumps and a cold sweat.

“Don’t move an inch,” he threatens, pointing an authoritative finger at you. “I’m telling the boss you’re going home.”

“Whatever,” you mumble as he leaves. Suddenly your eyes feel like boulders and are weighing down your face, so you slump into the cold wood of the table and fall into a deep sleep.

You don’t remember how or when you got back to your apartment, but when you woke up, that same tuft of ash blonde hair and pouty pair of lips are glowering down at you. One sweatpant-clad leg supports the back of your head, and the other is digging into your spine. It’s not too comfortable and you wonder why he didn’t just put you in bed, but it doesn’t matter. That good nap really just made you even more tired than you were, so you just wiggled and adjusted so that your face is nuzzled into his abdomen.

“I don’t think so, squirt,” he scoffs, though his tone is playful. “You need to eat, otherwise you’ll feel even worse after I give you your medicine.”

A groan rumbles in your chest before a coughing fit makes an inconvenient appearance, and you’re sputtering into his black shirt. He doesn’t make any sound or react in any way that insinuates you’re disgusting, but does lift you up gently and escorts you to the table.

Vermillion eyes wait patiently as you take the spoon to your lips. The steam feathers up into the air and your mouth envelops the soup, the sudden spice from pepper paste exploding once it passes through your throat.

“The heat is good for your sinuses,” Bakugou mutters, cheek resting in the palm of his hand as he watches you croak beside him. Though he’s correct, you can’t help but glare weakly.

“That doesn’t mean my lungs should be on fire.”

He rolls his eyes and moves the bowl towards him, grabbing the spoon and sticking his tongue into the stew. “It’s not bad,” he confirms. “Stop being a baby.”

“Says the one who’s babying said baby.”

“I’m so sorry for taking care of my idiot girlfriend because she decided to come to work sick as hell. You clearly can’t do it yourself,” he bites sarcastically.

Growing cowardice at his domineering gaze, you sniff and avert your eyes. He sighs. “Look, I’m trying to be...a good boyfriend,” his voice quivers in embarrassment at his confession. “Please just eat. It will make you feel better when there’s food in your stomach.”

Sparing him a sideways glance, you comply and allow him to spoon feed you, even though it was somewhat unnecessary. Any complaints or questions faded to the back of your mind, and you just concentrated on how gentle his actions are.

It wasn’t an everyday thing for Bakugou to be so affectionate or caring, though on weekends he did make a point to invite himself over and watch a movie. He doesn’t admit it, but he loves to snuggle up in your arms as you scratch his scalp and run your nails down his back. On most occasions he’ll fall asleep and just spend the whole weekend at your place. That kind of skinship is only reserved for weekends, unfortunately. While his words run harsh and blunt, his actions more than make up for it. You know he tries his best, and that's good enough for you.

Once you finish your soup, he commands you to shower and change into clean pajamas. When you pad into your bedroom, he’s chilling on your sheets and scrolling through his phone. Without looking at you, he hands over a cup of tea.

“Drink this,” he says, and drops a couple of pills into your other hand, “and take these.”

“Trying to knock me out already, Katsuki-chan?”

He grimaces half at your sweet tone and half at how utterly congested you sound. Be that as it may, the steam from the shower did help.

“You’re ill, so your body needs to recover. Best way to do that is to sleep,” he explains simply.

“Fine,” you chirp, falling onto the soft cotton and nestling into his side. “Are you going to stay here with me?”

He sucks his teeth while gazing down at you with soft eyes. “Duh.”

You smile. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

An irritating whine of the sirens follows your trail, with flashing blue and red lights reflecting off the puddles that settled into dips of the street. At least four to six police cars ride your ass and your breathing becomes ragged and short the more you run. Faster and faster, as far as your legs will take you. Shit, where the hell are the others ? The time to stop and think about where to head towards next should’ve been done a couple blocks ago, but you were careless. You have no one to blame but yourself.

Getting caught and detained isn’t an option; it never will be. If anything, you would rather die than be arrested, but you wonder when it all came down to this extreme. Since when did it become the norm to shit on the people trying to save others? To try and slander the good guys while the bad guys are still lurking underneath the city streets, like filthy sewer rats?

It didn’t make any sense. Heroes weren’t always looked at like freaks of nature. It was only the past decade or so that the press and government really locked down on the whole ‘superheroes bad, normal good’ spiel. The only logical explanation would be that a villain posed as a hero, destroyed the city and made life a living hell, then disappeared to whatever swamp they crawled out of. No one knew who exactly executed it, but there would be no reason not to believe that a villain was behind it. Now you and the rest of the heroes were left with the shit end of the stick, dealing with the aftermath. Best believe it wasn’t pretty.

Your legs begin to feel like jello, shaky and sore the more you speed down the hill, which in turn only made the cars accelerate faster and nearly running you over. So you take a risk, and quickly dive onto the gravel as the heat of the engines whir over your head. Surely it was luck rather than your own impulsive stupidity that you managed to escape, but regardless you quickly scurry into the alleyways of the buildings, pulling out your cell and dialing Yagi.

Asphalt stains your hero costume, and the exposed skin of your arms and legs are covered in multiple lacerations thanks to the stunt you pulled, yet you were alive and free from handcuffs, so you couldn’t complain. Though you were certain that you would get an earful.

Yagi’s car parks directly in front of the entrance to the alley, shielding you from any roaming passerbys, and with an irritated frown, you slump into the passenger seat. He studies your appearance with heavy sunken eyes, his mouth tugged into a disapproving scowl. You try to ignore it, and instead hook a leg over the other and stare out the window as he shifts the gear into drive. For the whole five minutes of uncomfortable silence that develops, you hope that he’ll forget about tonight and never bring it up again, but that was never Yagi.

“You can’t do reckless antics like that again, (Y/N),” he scolds firmly, yet his tone still holds that paternal softness. You glance over at him, eyes focused on the road, and you feel guilty. Yagi had always treated you like his own daughter when he took you in, after being abandoned by your parents for manifesting a quirk. He quickly made you realize that family didn’t have to be by blood. As far as you know, Yagi is closest thing to family you have, and having him worry over your wellbeing like a father only confirmed it. He was only trying to keep you safe, and you frayed from the plan, putting not only yourself but the others in danger as well. Instead of arguing, you simply remain quiet.

“Are you injured?” He inquires gently, and you shake your head. He scoffs flippantly and moves his hand that sat on the center console to pet your hair. “I’ll have Ochako take care of those for you.”

When you arrive at the base, a rundown apartment complex with barely any residents, you drag your feet to the living room where, undoubtedly, the rest of the group will be waiting for your return. You couldn’t quite say they were used to you running off on your own, thinking that you could handle yourself and end up in trouble, but it would be a good assumption. Being naive and careless would get the best of you, but it was only in your nature to see through loopholes and act in the spur of the moment.

As soon as your dampened socks make contact with the carpet, a large pair of arms engulf you into a bone-crushing hug. “What the fuck were you thinking, (Y/N)?” Bakugou’s low voice in your ear yet again sends another string of guilt into your gut. The only answer was, you weren’t.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could muster, a surge of tears threatening to spill any second. Bakugou definitely wasn’t one to show his emotions, and for a long while you were sure that he had two moods: calmly pissed and extremely pissed. He proved you wrong one day when you came back from a mission nearly collapsing on your knees, as he cried and sniffled while cradling your limp body. That was the first day you realized your true feelings towards him, and his towards you.

“You can’t just leave the group like that. You know we can’t go after you.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I just- I really thought I could do it this time. That could’ve been our only chance to finally kill him!”

He pulls back only to glare at you incredulously. “Are you fucking insane?”

You aren’t sure how to answer that. Maybe you really were. Avoiding his intense gaze, and wishing the floor would swallow you whole was the only thing you found yourself wanting to do.

“(Y/N),” he pleads, gripping your chin between his thumb and index finger firmly. “As strong as you are, there’s no way in hell you can do everything on your own. Don’t pull shit like this again.”

“But-”

“Oi,” he bares his teeth, causing you to snap your jaw shut. “I don’t want to hear another fucking thing out of that pretty mouth other than a promise.”

You shrivel up at the compliment mixed into the reprimanding, and flush slightly from embarrassment. “I promise.”

“Good.”

Though his arms wrap around your midsection again, the warmth had disappeared and had been replaced with resentment, almost. Disappointment. Chagrin swelled in your chest when he pulls away, leaving you alone with Ochako and her first-aid kit. Eyes had been watching and ears had been listening as your body grew hot with shame. 

The ride home to your shared apartment was void of any communication whatsoever, and it stung. Even more so than when Ochako rubbed hydrogen peroxide on your open wounds, and somehow silence was more painful than a lashing.

You know you were wrong, yet your prideful conscience didn’t let you admit it out loud. But to put the others in danger, that was the worst part of it all. You can’t remember how you became so thoughtless. Maybe it’s the desperation for society to finally accept you as people, rather than aliens. Or maybe it’s to revenge your parents; to rub in their faces that you’re doing fine, better than you would have ever been if they kept you. Or maybe it’s for yourself, to prove that you’re not a bad person. None of your friends will ever be evil as the media claimed, and neither will you.

That still didn’t make up for the fact that you put everyone including yourself in danger, but why couldn’t you grasp that in the beginning? That when you put on your hero costume, your life wasn’t the only one you would be thinking of. Yet you were selfish, and inconsiderate, and that wasn’t at all what a hero is supposed to be.

Bakugou’s back is turned to you on the bed, and though you can’t see his face, you can tell he’s not asleep. He gave you a kiss on the cheek before he rolled over, and by now you were expecting cuddles and affection. Now given the cold shoulder, or back more like it, you weren’t sure what to do. The only way to find out where to go from here, is to apologize.

“Katsuki,” you murmur, loud enough to grab his attention but still very timid. He grunts a response, and that didn’t help your confidence. “I’ve been thinking about it, and you all were right. I’m sorry.”

“We’ve discussed this already,” he replies icily.

You swallow thickly. “What I’m trying to say is that… you and Yagi are the only family I have. I haven’t been thinking about how my actions affect you both, even the rest of the team. To be honest, I wouldn’t care if I had to die trying to stop Shigaraki. If it meant that the world would be a better place for you and the other heroes, then that’d be good enough for me,” you sigh. By the end of your explanation, he’s already facing you with his head propped up by the palm of his hand. His expression is impossible to decipher, so you continue. “But now I realize that I have a whole lot more to live for. So from now on, I’ll be more careful with my decisions and I won’t venture off on my own anymore. I want to stay alive, if not for me, but Yagi and...you, Katsuki. Because I love you.”

His stare melts under your words and his arm drags you closer into his chest, so tightly as though he doesn’t want to let you leave his sight again. His lips press kisses into your hair and you shyly reach up to thread your fingers through his hair and he breathes in deeply.

“I love you to the ends of the earth, (Y/N). Please don’t ever take it for granted. I want us both to be happy and alive in the future, hopefully together, if you don’t mind,” he mutters facetiously.

You giggle into his mouth, a longing kiss muffling the sound. “You want to grow old with me, Katsuki?” You tease softly.

“Obviously,” he rolls his eyes. “You’re an amazing woman, but a total pain in my ass.”

“I’ll work on it, give me maybe 5 to 80 years. We’ll have to wait and see.”

He grunts before gently wrapping you into his side, your head resting against his chest. A gentle lullaby of a beating heart, and warm lips pressing into your hair are what finally allows you to sleep.

Chapter Text

Nights are spent on cold sheets surrounded by cotton, and the soft breaths you take disappearing into the pillow. The apartment is quiet, with the ticking of the alarm clock on the bedside table and it’s an irritating reminder of how much time has passed since the last time you’ve seen him. How much time you’ve spent alone, bare feet on hardwood floors and decorative rugs just to slump onto the sofa and click on the Television. The news had become your best friend; it spills all the secrets that he doesn’t tell you and when he arrives at your door, the suspicious cuts and bruises had made sense.

It should have scared you, but it didn’t. He could kill you, but he doesn’t. You could report him to the police, but you don’t. By now, the thought of losing him is the greatest fear you could ever face. One that has the highest chances of showing itself, and the highest chance of destroying you.

You’re hesitant when a finger hovers over the call button; if he wanted to come over, he would have. If he wanted to call, he would have. If he wanted to make time for you, he would have. But you keep going back, and you’re not sure why.

There are many reasons clouding your judgement, many excuses that you tell yourself to validate your actions. Because it’s comfortable, he’s familiar, he’s home.

And home sick got the best of you, so you press call. He picks up with an urgency and excitement hidden beneath his casual ‘hello’. Maybe he was expecting you to call, because he knows you better than anyone else, and could read you like his favorite book. Even from across the city, through the phone, and next to you on the couch.

It’s a plea that makes him chuckle raspily, that deep and primal characteristic that could make any modern Persephone fall for Hades. He agrees, and he’s at the front door within ten minutes.

Usually it would take forty if he were busy, twenty if he were in traffic, and five if he really wanted to visit. He took ten because he didn’t want to seem too desperate, he didn’t want to take that fall. He preferred it if you did.

“You miss me, angel eyes?” His azure gems that hold your yearning gaze capture more than just your attention. They call for you, in a way that you hope no other woman experiences. You want it to yourself. Like a fly trapped in a spider web, like a rabbit and a snake.

“I guess you could say I missed your company,” you smile. It’s easier to pretend that he’s nothing more than a warm body to spend the night with, and easier to pretend like he’s not the most beautiful man in the world.

“Lucky for you, I make house calls.”

What happens next is completely up to him. He takes what he desires, what he craves, what he yearns for. And sometimes that might not always be you, but you’re satisfied as long as you can say you’ve had him. He’s never been the type to be too attached, and you’re sure that the thread that ties you two together has choked him plenty of times. He stretches and pulls the string until the pressure is unbearable, and he boomerangs back into your embrace.

You admire the moments that are spent by his side, with his arms lazily wrapped around your torso. He reacts unconsciously whenever you move or adjust he firmly draws you towards his chest. His breathing is shallow and his eyelashes fall onto his cheeks like rays of the sun. Raven hair weaves in between your fingertips, dark waves of smooth satin.

Pretending is only a mask, one you can remove during the early hours of the night as you watch the tension release from his forehead and his features relax. While his body is limp and as he dreams, either violent or serene, he’s vulnerable. You don’t know if he’s shown this side of himself to others, but you’re happy you get to witness it. You’re happy he’s here in your arms, where it’s safe and you know he’s okay.

“Dabi,” you sigh. “You’re no good for me, but I still love you. Am I an idiot for that?”

Silence. The steady ticking of the alarm clock on your bedside table. They say that silence speaks volumes, but you turn it down and nuzzle your head underneath his chin, taking in the smell of laundry and earth. When you wake, you know he’ll be gone with the stars and the moon that once occupied the navy sky. Only to be left with cold sheets of cotton and the blinding rays of morning sun.

Chapter Text

It was around the time Kirishima was meant to get off work that he received a phone call. The person on the end of the line sounded urgent, and somewhat bewildered, so he altered his usual route home and began to head for downtown. With his hero outfit still on full display, he was stopped at least once on each block by civilians wanting a photo or autograph. To be honest, he truly wasn’t one to be rude, especially when they were his supporters, but this was about his wife.

His wild and daring wife who was now possibly injured, or worse. You wouldn’t just die on him like that; you were not that much of a risk taker. But now, with his heart racing and images he never thought he’d ever imagine, he wasn’t so sure. So he ran past the citizens of Hosu City and into a stream of caution tape, an ambulance, and police cars. He glanced for a body bag, or any blood, but there was none to be seen. It felt like his soul had finally re-entered his body when he realized it; you were still alive. You were okay. 

As he scanned the area, searching for those familiar strands of (h/c) hair and black catsuit, it’s nowhere to be found. 

A pair of officers approached him with puzzled faces, and exchange a knowing glance before introducing themselves and the scene before him. 

“We believe the villain she was fighting had an age-rewind quirk of some kind,” they explain. “We have him in custody right now, so we’ll question him on the side effects and longevity of it and get back to you. She’s right over there.”

A finger points to a little girl, around five years old, kicking her legs back and forth as she sits in the back of an ambulance. A paramedic was giving her a once-over, checking for bruises and scrapes while she waits patiently with a large smile. Wide and bright eyed, he knew in an instant who exactly the little toddler was. 

As he neared you, tiny legs seem to bounce up and down as you visibly admire Kirishima’s hero costume. Originally, he figured that an armored and large muscular guy walking up to a child could be perceived as intimidating. But this was you, and you had always seen him as cool. Surely that wouldn’t change even as a kid. Your eyes held a captivating twinkle as your mouth grew uncontrollably it seemed, and you wave enthusiastically at him. “Hi!”

He blinked in mild surprise at your exuberant behavior. You were just like your adult self, and nothing appeared to have changed whatsoever. “Hi there. Do you know who I am?” 

“A hero! My name’s (Y/N)! I love heroes, I want to be just like them when I grow up! Did you know that my mommy is a hero? Daddy is too, but he stays at home with me while mommy works! What’s your quirk? I haven’t got mine yet but I hope it’s super cool! What’s your-“

“Hey, hey. Let’s slow down, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” His hand clamped down on your head with a few firm pats. You nodded obediently while still maintaining that overjoyed smile. 

“I’m Kirishima Eijirou. From now on I’m not a hero, I’m going to be your guardian. Does that sound alright?”

“B-but...mommy? Daddy?”

“Don’t worry,” he reassured calmly. “You’ll see them soon. We just need to wait until you get better.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Am I sick?”

“Sick isn’t the right word for it. More like...injured. Do you remember anything?”

Shaking your head, your eyes turned downcast and your hands were fidgeting. “A bad man was here. He was mean to me and tried to hurt me.”

“That bad man is gone now, but he did something to you that we need to keep under observation. Just in case there are any changes or side effects. Are you hurting anywhere?”

Another shake of your head. 

“Good. One last question. Are you hungry?” 

A few days had passed, and the effects of the villain’s quirk had yet to wear off. He had received a few phone calls; one from the officer that was investigating the incident, and the others from your parents. Both of which concerned your current state, and what to expect from now on. Give it a week, the officer advised, and keep you under supervision as though he were taking care of his own child. 

It was weird. You were his wife, and to see you from a different perspective was cute for the first few days. Your eyes held a carefree glow and your face was free from any stress that had troubled you in adulthood. None of those things had changed, but you were a stubborn and moody five year old. Still the same as you would be as a grown up. 

The real problem was finding someone to watch over you while he worked. The agency was quite overloaded with cases to solve and with minimal staff, and Red Riot as the leading hero, he was put in charge with a lot of responsibility. The last thing he needed was to worry about whether or not you were okay, if you had eaten, or missed him. Well, the last one was unavoidable. As much as he wanted to stay home and keep you company, he just couldn’t. Which was why Bakugou was the first person he called. 

“You want me to do what? ” His best friend’s tone hadn’t exactly portrayed genuine excitement, but Kirishima could tell that he wasn’t as irritated by the favor as he let on.

“Come on, Bakugou! Just for a few hours while I sort things out at my agency.” 

He huffed loudly and groaned. “Whatever. But you owe me.”

You were munching on tonkotsu, which you had mentioned before was your favorite as a child, and sipping on a mango juicebox when Kirishima arrived home. The television was on the news, and an image of Red Riot underlined with a short description of events. From the entrance, he had a clear view of the living room in which you sat on the sofa, watching with eyes like saucers and a huge grin on your cheeks. Bakugou’s hasty chopping on a cutting board echoed throughout the apartment, and Kirishima assumed he had come home right as dinner was being made. 

“Suki, look!” You pointed with crumbly fingers at the TV. “It’s Kiripima!” 

“Yeah, I see that,” he responded with his signature gruffness, but his manner was gentle. Never in his life did he imagine Bakugou being nice with children. 

“(Y/N), I’m home!” 

“Kiripima!” 

In the midst of you running high-speed into his arms, his eyes seemed to gravitate towards what you’re dressed in. Ground Zero themed pajamas and red socks. Bakugou peeks around the corner just in time to see Kirishima shoot an annoyed glare, but he only rolls his eyes in response. 

“Fix your face, you idiot, or you’re not getting dinner.”

Afterwards, while Bakugou cleaned and left, it was only you two again. Kirishima admits that he felt lonely in a way, despite having you sitting cross-legged on the couch watching cartoons next to him. It was difficult holding regular conversation with a five year old that didn’t include food, sleep, or potty. Not to mention having to watch over you as if he were your dad. Speaking of, you had barely mentioned your parents at all. It was as if you had accepted that Kirishima would be your guardian permanently, and you were totally fine with it. He wasn’t, however, and he missed having his wife sleeping next to him at night. 

You curled into his chest as his body leaned into the arm of the sofa. His hand was splayed over your back and rubbed circles, hoping to finally lull you to sleep. It was nearing midnight, and his eyes were heavy with drowsiness. Your soft snores and steady breathing allowed him to finally let go of whatever worries he had, and drift off as well. 

Kirishima doesn’t remember falling asleep with a weight on top of him. When he opened his eyes, he’s surprised, to say the least, to see you knocked out and cuddled into his neck. Your body was normal, face was normal, and everything seemed to be okay, just as the officer predicted. His shifting and adjustments must have woken you up, because you’re blinking up at him just as you did when you were five. He smiled at the similarities and chuckled to himself. 

“Why’re you laughing?” 

He’s met with groggy eyes and furrowed brows, and your face telling him that you needed more sleep. “You haven’t changed at all.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yawned, rolling over to the other side of the bed and him following after you. “Five more minutes.” 

If anyone deserved five more minutes of sleep, it would be him for dealing with a five year old for the past week. But your pouting lips and stretching limbs beckoned him to join you once more, with his arms wrapping around your torso and nose in your hair.

Chapter Text

The crunching of leaves are heard over the howling of the wind, and it’s a pair of sounds that are both oddly calming yet eerie. Being out during the middle of the night is forbidden amongst students, as they are all given a strict curfew, so you’ve never had the chance to experience the moon at its highest peak. Unlike now, where it’s casting a shadow over your anxious face. 

You liked abiding by the rules. It gave a sense of safety and comfort without being too constrictive, as all of them are relatively understandable, at least by your standards. Those who disagree and rebel are not people you normally associate yourself with, and among them is Hitoshi Shinsou.

How you two became friends is beyond your comprehension, but it happened and you weren’t mad at it. He sat behind you in English II your second year of high school, and challenged your thinking and offered more substance to your conversations than any of your friends had before. He has an interesting mind and it only pulled you in more, as though he would disappear without a trace and you’d only be left with a blurry memory. 

The quote unquote ‘problem’ is that he’s been a notorious outsider since he transferred schools, a young kid who grew up with very little parental guidance but enough money to get him into any private school he wanted, such as yours. His grades barely passed a C by the refusal to apply himself and though he pays no mind to academics or extracurriculars, you could always tell he has a passion for art. Hitoshi’s talents and interests have consistently been overshadowed by rumors of being in and out of juvie and his supposed player status with numerous girls in your grade. He didn’t plead his case or try to sway what others thought about him, so the petty gossip that followed him around and spoiled his reputation never came to a halt. He just let it happen and for that you could respect and admire. 

If Hitoshi’s the school’s misfit, constantly an afterthought, you’re the one in the limelight. Always the good girl, the classic queen bee with an aura of confidence surrounding her wherever she went. That’s what won you the presidency of student council and captain of the debate team. Even though you theoretically had it all; the looks, the brains, the popularity- it really all felt empty. Between your airhead friends who lacked individuality, and your parents paying you no attention as though you didn’t exist, perhaps you and Hitoshi Shinsou were really in the same boat. Feeling lost and misunderstood really did bring you both closer together. 

“I don’t think this is a great idea, Toshi,” you grimace, scanning the dead earth beneath your boots. He peeks up at you from his bottle of spray paint and his black hoodie blends in with the darkness around him.

He sucks his teeth with a roll of his eyes. “Why’s that, Miss (Y/N)?” 

“Because it’s dangerous and we could get caught,” you respond pragmatically.

“Shit, I didn’t think of that! Calm down, sweetheart. Nobody comes to this place so late at night.”

You scoff at his blatant sarcasm that you’ve come to know and wrap your arms around your torso for warmth. The only heat in your body right now is your cheeks, a reflexive reaction to the many nicknames he gives you frequently.

“You know, when you invited me out with you, I didn’t think we’d be outside .” You spit the word out with disgust, mainly at the fact that it’s nearing winter and the cold is something you dislike greatly. Not to mention you forgot to bring a decent coat. 

“We’ll be inside in a sec,” he mutters, clearly focused on picking the lock of the worn down house you’re about to enter without the owner’s consent. The old you would have thrown a fit over what Shinsou is doing, but the new you is taking it in stride. Your only complaint at this point is that he’s not picking it fast enough. 

“Aaaand we’re in,” he cheers. You shush him and he simply cuts his violet eyes at you. A yelp of surprise escapes your mouth involuntarily when he takes you by the hand and leads you inside. The hefty wooden door shuts behind you and you’re left with a grinning Shinsou, shaking his bottle of spray paint and preparing to go to town on the chipping walls. 

“So you brought me here just to watch you vandalize some poor person’s home?” You tilt your head to the side and quirked a brow at him. He sauntered over to you with a sigh. 

“First off, I’m doing this guy a favor considering he already doesn’t give a damn about this place, and secondly, we don’t even know if someone owns it or not. Thirdly,” he gives you the can. “You’re not just gonna watch me, I’m gonna teach you.” 

“Watch us get caught and you pin the blame all on me,” you joke, but suddenly that idea isn’t so far off. 

“You worry way too much,” he soothes into your hair, guiding you further into the house to find a perfect spot to place your art. His hand is placed on top of your own, while the other is balancing on decaying wallpaper. He’s very close and you’re very happy about it. For the added warmth, of course.

The way he talks about drawing and painting makes you look at him differently. In a more starry-eyed, adoring way that in return makes your stomach do flips whenever he glances down at you during his explanation. You like hearing him talk, and the deep pitch of his voice has always been strangely reassuring and wise beyond his years. A boy like Hitoshi Shinsou would never be labeled as such, but who really cares about labels anyway? Not like he sees you as the prissy Mary Sue like everyone else does.

“You think you got it? Remember not too hard on the nozzle, or else the lines won’t be neat.”

In a daze, you draw the first thing that came to mind. A palm tree. Hitoshi chuckles and the vibrations travel up your spine as his chest is pressed against your back once more. “You almost got it. Here, like this.” 

Something about his touch excites you. It makes you feel giddy and raw and unexplored emotions that you’ve never felt with anyone else. The way his fingers interlock with yours and hold you tenderly, and the way his cheek nuzzles yours so cutely makes you forget everything that’s bothering you, all the stress and worries that built up over time. They slowly crumble the more time you spend with Shinsou. It’s refreshing. Freeing.

You grimace at the strong smell that travels up to your nose and he giggles boyishly. An apology mumbles from his lips and he cups his palm over the lower half of your face. 

“I knew I forgot the masks.”

An hour or so passes, filled with drawn out explanations and lectures about the what, who, and why of the art called graffiti. It’s a means of expression and creativity, both of which are hard to come by, especially in today’s age where people follow trends and cliques. Everything is monitored and the government has a plan to turn everyone into these robots that pursue blindly a false ideal of what’s good or bad. Somehow the rumors of Shinsou being a skeptical and paranoid delinquent didn’t seem like rumors anymore the longer he went on his rant, but some of it made sense. When you said that he challenged your ways of thinking, you meant it. 

He finds a thread-bare sofa hidden away in a darkened corner of the house and you’re hesitant to lay a hair on it, but he brushes it off and tugs you down with him. It takes you awhile to get used to the feeling of wooden slabs digging into your rear but he shifts you on top of his lap with an exhausted yawn. 

“Shouldn’t we go back to the dorms? It’s pretty late.”

“Few more minutes,” he groans. His arms wrap around your abdomen until you’re fully submerged in his embrace. You don’t recall any other times Shinsou has been this touchy-feely and he’s never gone past the innocent ruffling of your hair and the nonchalant pecks on the cheek. 

You twist and turn to get comfortable and although his body is warm and pleasant, it’s not your bed. Inadvertently, your head swivels up to see his. It’s painted peacefully, with his eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. Half of his face is squished against the cushion and you can’t help but smile.

“What’re you staring at?”

You chew on the inside of your lower lip before responding quietly. “Someone really pretty.”

“Oh?” His eyes blink open with a pleasantly surprised gleam. “Me too.”

You giggle demurely, now avoidant of his gaze. Why did you have to go and say that? You clear your throat and curl into his chest hoping to shield your blushing face. 

“Don’t go all shy on me, sweetheart,” he hums absentmindedly, rubbing a thumb on the shell of your ear and brushing hair behind it. It makes your toes curl and a shiver of elation runs down your spine.

“I’m not. Just confused.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll laugh at me.” 

He arches a brow curiously, and he encourages you to lift up your head and look at him. “Tell me and find out.” 

You scowl. “That’s reassuring, thank you.” 

Shinsou smiles. “Can’t be that bad, (Y/N).” 

He’s right. The worst thing that can come out of it is that you’ll be embarrassed and things will be awkward and rocky. You weren’t always so pessimistic, but that’s what you get by hanging out with a boy who’s a firm believer that the government is poisoning the water supply. 

You sigh. “I think...I have feelings for you.”

Just like you predicted, Shinsou breaks into a wide grin and begins to chuckle. You abruptly push yourself off of him and stomp a few meters away while shouting, “Just forget it, Hitoshi!”

“Hey, wait,” he calls after you. His footsteps follow yours and you try to ignore the rapid and painful pulse in your chest.

“It’s not like that, (Y/N). I’m not laughing at you.” 

“Then what is it like? You flirt with me and touch me like I’m someone special, but I’m really not, am I?” 

“What?” He breathes incredulously. His eyebrows furrow and he looks like he’s been kicked in the stomach. “Wait a minute, can you just listen to me, please?” 

His hands grab your shoulders and he twists you around so you can look him in the eye. He takes a deep breath. “What if I told you that I have feelings for you, too?” 

“Seriously?” You reply wide-eyed. In the back of your mind you had no doubts that maybe there was something there, no matter how small, but you also denied it. Just to be safe, and just to protect yourself because that’s what is familiar. Shinsou is pretty good at breaking you out of your comfort zone. 

“Look,” he runs his fingers through lavender locks. “I didn’t laugh at you, I just couldn’t believe it. I mean, look at you. You’re in student council and everyone adores you and I’m just some kid that’s over in the corner kicking rocks. When we became friends, that’s when I started seeing you differently. You didn’t believe that bullshit gossip and you didn’t look down on me. So the reason I flirt with you and touch you is because you are special, (Y/N). To me, you’re the most precious thing in the world.” 

His palms cup your cheeks and with a love drunk smile, he kisses you. His lips are soft as they move against yours, gently coaxing you to open wide enough for his tongue to poke inside. It licks the roof of your mouth and before you can stop yourself from doing so, a whiny moan flies freely between his teeth. His hold trails down your sides, dragging you closer until you’re back on the tattered sofa. Thighs straddling him, fingers splayed and caressing up and down your hips; it’s your own tiny slice of heaven. 

You don’t know what compelled you enough to take initiative, maybe it’s the way he’s sighing heavily into your mouth and rubbing the nape of your neck, but you grind down and run your nails across his scalp. That earns you a needy whimper so unlike Shinsou that it makes you want to do it over and over until he’s trembling.

“Shit,” he hisses, swiftly pulling away as a string of saliva follows after him. “If I knew this was how our first kiss was gonna be, I would’ve confessed a lot sooner.”

You glare down at him. “You should’ve done it anyway, you jerk.”

“Ouch,” he clutches his chest. “Don’t be mean to me.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you remove yourself from his lap and dust off any spider webs and anything else that battered old sofa held. You check the time on your phone and yawn. 

“Come on, Toshi. It’s already one in the morning.”

“Fine,” he grunts, reluctantly standing up and hooking an arm over your shoulder. Once he locks up the door, he turns to you with an expectant expression you can’t decipher. Almost as though he’s giving you a once over, or maybe he’s thinking over everything that happened inside that busted house. From here on out, every time you pass it you’ll be going back to that memory that Hitoshi Shinsou practically told you he loved you. Just remembering it caused your eyes to glaze over and your heart to pound against your ribs. 

“So, about that kiss. Can I get any more of those or was it just a one time thing?”

You laugh at his brazen smirk and shove him playfully. “That depends if you’re my boyfriend or not.” 

“Well, am I?” It’s a genuine question but he still wears that outrageously handsome smile. He’s happy, you can tell. And so are you. 

Rolling your eyes, you cling onto his arm and glance up at the indigo sky. “Do you really have to ask?”

Chapter Text

“What’s wrong?” 

Todoroki has been asking that for a while now. With that same concerned and protective expression that he wears right now. He isn’t the one to blame for your behavior. Nothing, honestly, is the cause. 

Lately, the days have been dragging on for too long and the nights are spent tossing and turning. The sheets are too hot and the air is too cold. Your whole body feels uncomfortable, the pillow too flat and the bed too empty. Despite all the odds, you still manage to sleep well into the afternoon. Summer meant having no responsibilities as far as school goes, and your appetite depleted as well as the want to go outside and experience all the free time you claimed to have lost. Majority of the time you stay in bed or on the sofa, lounging for as long as possible until your mom dragged you out of your room to do chores. 

An impossible phenomenon is why you’re still so tired. Fatigue makes your brain foggy and the words people tell you go through one ear and out the other. You barely have enough energy for a simple conversation. Smiling has grown harder and it seemed like a scam any time you plastered one on your face, tricking anyone into believing that you were okay.

But not Todoroki. He’s the one person that has always been able to tell when you’re lying. Your eyes wander, your bottom lip juts outward and your ears burn scarlet, your fingers pulling at the lobes anxiously. 

“Tell me,” he urges again. His voice is quiet and his eyebrows are furrowed into a worried scowl. The grey and the blue are captivating, like comforting clouds and a gentle stream. 

You wipe away the tears on your cheeks and pull the covers up to your neck.  “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are you hiding in your room?” His tone is different from the one your parents use; it isn’t berating or annoyed at all.

Your shoulders clench together when his hand reaches for your neck, one of his favorite spots to comfort you as his fingers caress the shell of your ear, with his thumb tracing the skin just below your hairline. He retracts instantly with a dejected frown, but tries again. Reluctantly, you allow him, and allow yourself to feel the warmth of another person and show affection you don’t think you deserve. 

“Can’t answer that, honestly,” you hum. Fingers brush your hair away from your face, and the strands feather out onto the pillow.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not hungry.”

His body curls up against yours, with his arms wrapped around your torso. The feeling is nice for a while. He doesn’t bother asking anything else and you’re grateful that he dropped the subject of your reasons why. Does anybody know why they do anything at all? Eating to live. Sleep to refuel. Why do people get up in the morning? Prior commitments, responsibilities. People that rely on their care, like children or pets. Maybe having a cat could bring you out of your mood.

His breath is on your neck and kisses follow afterwards, and for a split second you want to cry. You can’t remember the last time someone has held you like this, cradling your body like the china in your mother’s display cabinet. From spending days on end with your thoughts running ragged, your heart pumping rapidly from anxiety and feeling everything at once, to feeling nothing at all, you finally feel...calm.

There’s no anger brewing beneath your skin or poisonous words scattered among your mind. No sense of being rushed, like time is running out and no sense of that bowling ball of emptiness that somehow weighed a thousand tons. 

Just the comforting scent of earth and musk that causes you to fall effortlessly into his embrace. His thumb strokes across your cheek gently and frowns, continuing in repetitions until the skin is dry. 

“You were crying,” he murmurs. “Why do you hide your sadness from me?”

You huff. Those few moments of blissful silence now ruined. It’s not like you’re genuinely mad at the poor man for trying to console you. It’s the fact that you’re pushing him away; the only soul on earth that is connected to your own, whose being your heart beats for and whose body has an affinity to yours. You’ve shut him out and instead of leaving like anyone else, he’s back at the front door begging to be let inside. You owed him that much. You love him.

“Because it’s fucking embarrassing, Shouto. I don’t know how else to put it. But I don’t want you seeing me as someone who’s weak.” 

He sucks in a breath, hetero-chromatic eyes darting from your hair that he’s brushing away from your face and to your own eyes that gleam back. 

“I could never see you that way. If anything, you’re even stronger for carrying all this inside you.” Soft lips press into your forehead, lingering for a few moments before he’s back to rubbing the lobe and shell of your ear. “But just know you don’t have to bear those burdens alone. You can share them with me and I won’t mind because I love you. Nothing will change that.”

You bite your lip, gaze wavering and for a split second you don’t believe him. Yet, this is Todoroki. There is no reason whatsoever to doubt him. You nod meekly. 

“I know you have dreadful thoughts in that wonderful mind of yours. You’ve suffered so much in silence and I have such an ache to take away all the pain, but I can’t. All I can do is just be there for you. Whatever you need, just ask.”

His hand cups the back of your neck and he softly brings your head to his chest. For the longest time it took a while for Todoroki to become compassionate. Whether that was your doing or his own, it never ceased to surprise you. Breathless and teary-eyed, he plants kisses into your hair and massages between your shoulder blades. Efforts that eventually soothe you to sleep with the tiniest hint of a relieved smile on your face.

Chapter Text

You can’t remember a time where you really let yourself have fun. 

Between being a lawyer and caring for your borderline alcoholic best friend, stress and responsibility weighed down on your shoulders more than you could handle. It came to a point where your life had to settle into a routine in order to balance everything and you preferred it that way. Comfortable and familiar and most importantly secure. 

At six AM, you wake up. Go to the gym, come back and have breakfast. Shower. Then to work by nine. Appointments with potential clients and discussions of cases with your boss, as well as leading the interns took up the majority of your day. On Monday through Thursday you had the evening to yourself with your cat, Mongoose, and normally spent it going through case files and documents. On Friday and weekends, you could be found at whatever club is the most popular. Where the music is loud and the people are sweating bullets and drunk off their asses. Your best friend, Mina, is always one of them. Besides the late night visits to her apartment, with a glass of water and a tablet of aspirin, it’s safe to say that your life orbited around work. It’s not necessarily a bad thing; you’ll always have a stable income and a steady career. But is there more to life than that? What else could possibly be more fulfilling? 

Probably a more exciting personal life. 

You’ve had one boyfriend, and that ended while you were still in law school. You had met him your senior year of high school, and throughout the relationship he had supported your dream to become a famous lawyer. Until the upcoming months of graduation, he whined and bitched about you putting your grades and internships first. Ultimately, you had to make a decision. Career and future, or a boy who would be fine spending the rest of his life mooching off of his trust fund? That describes your view towards dating in a nutshell. It wasn’t that you hated all men, per se, just that it was difficult finding one to match your work ethic and obviously high standards. 

You’d met Mina your freshman year of high school. She’s been with you through thick and thin, for better or for worse and as much as she gets on your nerves, you love her. With so many people coming in and out of your life, she has been the only person that’s constant. Mina went to community college and albeit you had no problem with that, she dropped out. Ever since then she’s been job hopping, and you want to encourage her to go back to school and at least finish a degree. You can’t quite tell if she’s truly satisfied just scraping by and you just want the best for her, so if working multiple part time jobs and grinding on random strangers on Saturday nights made her happy then so be it. 

On the other hand, she had no issue with telling you her honest thoughts. The same old spiel of you working too hard, to take a vacation, get laid already. Clearly she had some kind of vendetta against you being dedicated to your job, but you didn’t take it to heart. Maybe you could loosen up and stop being so ‘uptight’ as she claimed. 

Now that leaves you on a Friday night, in the bathroom watching Mina fix her pink hair in the mirror. She clicks her tongue when her black eyes settle on your uncomfortable figure, shifting your weight on the stilettos that she insisted you borrow. 

“Stop being so nervous, you look hot!” She brushes through your hair with long fingers and begins to unbutton your blouse.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to make it seem like you didn’t just get off from work.”

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because we’re here to have fun, (Y/N)!” She huffs, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, some rules for tonight. No talking about work, and as much as I love Mongoose, for the love of God I don’t care what brand of catfood you switched him to. Just enjoy yourself, okay?”

You pout, crossing your arms over your cleavage and roll your eyes. “Fine. But you’re buying the first round of drinks.” 

That she smiles to. She grabs hold of your hand and leads you towards the bar as you watch the strangers among the crowd dance on one another. The bass seems to shake all of your bones and as soon as the bartender sets down a shot of tequila, you down it. 

“That’s my girl!” 

You rest your cheek on one hand and listen to her ramble about her current fling, someone named Sero, and you really should be paying attention. Yet your eyes can’t help but wander to a pair of electric ones staring right into your soul. Absentmindedly, a hand moves to tug down on your skirt and you cross one leg over the other. For the first time in a long while, you feel desirable and giddy under a man’s gaze. 

A man with vibrant blonde hair and gorgeous yellow eyes. They flicker with curiosity and such intensity that it would’ve made you cower in anxiety if it weren’t for Mina. She follows your line of sight and grins wide when she sees him. 

“Oi, Kaminari! Get your ass over here!” 

With his hands in the pockets of dark denim, he sauntered over to your seats and smiles cheekily at you while hugging her. For some reason, your heart sinks at the interaction. It’s just a meaningless hug, for crying out loud. Not like she’s screwing the guy. 

“(Y/N), this is Kaminari Denki. We worked together at the tattoo parlor I was a receptionist at, remember?”

That particular job was one she had six months ago. “Ah, right. Nice to meet you, Kaminari-san.” 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he beams at you. As he and Mina go into their own conversation, one that you can’t possibly contribute to, you take the opportunity to silently admire just how good-looking the man is. His black button-up shirt clings onto his torso, with the sleeves rolled up to expose inked forearms. You can hardly make out the shapes, but you know that there is a variety. Somehow your eyes made their way up to his face, and you haven’t seen someone so handsome in a long time. Watching his mouth move as he speaks, there’s a glint inside and when he turns to you, you see a venom piercing on his tongue. You shift in your seat.

“Can I buy you a drink, (Y/N)?” The way he purrs out your name doesn’t sound half bad. 

“Uh-”

“Yes! This girl loves whiskey sours!” Mina winks at you from behind him, then makes up the excuse that she’s going to go look for Sero. That leaves you two alone. His hand ghosts across the small of your back as he goes to take a seat next to you.

“Whiskey sours, huh? Haven’t had that in a while.” He waves the bartender over and orders. From the moment he set his piercing eyes on you, it was like you were drawn to him. There was no use in denying it, and as unsettling as it is to be absolutely concupiscent towards a man you just met. The chemistry is certainly there, now you just have to act on it. In the wise words of Mina, just get laid already! 

“So what do you for work, Kaminari-san?” You clear your throat and brush your fringe behind your ear. Hopefully you didn’t come off to awkward and professional- you weren’t quite sure how to be casual anymore, even with Mina. 

“I’m a tattoo artist,” he grins. You can tell that he’s proud of his career and you couldn’t care less that he isn’t a stockbroker or CEO like you’d always pictured yourself being with. “I also do piercings, but recently we hired a specialist for that. I like it; the pay is good and I’m doing what I love.” Your heart warms and melts at the cheerful nature in his tone. “What about you?”

You rub your arm nervously. You know Mina warned you about work, but the guy asked about it. Though you’re not sure whether or not telling him that you’re a lawyer would turn him away from you. Luckily the bartender passes you your drinks and you take a sip without a second thought. You don’t even know if you’ve ever had whiskey sours before. As soon as you swallow the taste, you pucker your lips and grimace. Kaminari laughs boyishly before taking a large gulp.

“Um, I actually work at a law firm. Nishimura and Asahi, if you know of it.” 

Yellow eyes widen. “That’s one of the Big Four, isn’t it? That’s amazing.” 

“I suppose so. I’m actually not supposed to talk about it-”

“Talk about what?”

Sighing, you glance up at Mina. Speak of the devil, and she shows. “My job.” 

“Oh,” she rolls her eyes. You notice the man hooked on her arm and he greets you warmly with a kind smile, as though he’s apologizing for her behavior. “Yeah, nobody wants to hear you brag about being a hotshot lawyer, missy!” 

Kaminari peeks over at you worriedly as you shrink in embarrassment. You swear it’s like being with your mom or worse- drunk aunty. With reassuring eyes, he leans over and smiles sweetly. 

“Hey, you wanna dance with me (Y/N)?” 

“Sure.” 

Soft rock plays on the overhead speakers and the sounds of pool are crowded in a corner, and honestly this wasn’t exactly how you pictured your night going. Dancing with a cute stranger, slightly tipsy but enough to still be reasonable, and most of all- not totally miserable.

The top of your head barely reaches Kaminari’s neck and your nose bumps slightly against his chest, and with your arms around his neck he cradles your waist towards him. No man you’ve ever met has smelled as delicious as he does, and you’re swooning. Whether it be the alcohol, or just the overwhelming desire to feel a warm body once more, you seriously consider frenching him right then and there. 

“Does Mina have a problem with your career or something?”

“She just doesn’t like how stressful it is for me, I assume,” you sigh. His palms grip your sides firmly and it’s delightful to feel the strong hands of a man again. Though you don’t think that your ex’s touch was that intoxicating like Kaminari.

“I can imagine. It’s very admirable that you’re so successful and dedicated, though.” A finger hooks underneath your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his. 

“Really?” 

“Really,” he murmurs. Before you know it, your lips are already gravitating towards his and he’s breathing into your mouth, “Sexy, too.” 

And then you’re kissing him. His tongue is warm and the piercing only accentuates the sensation of it licking past your teeth, and you’re biting down on his lower lip with excruciating want. Large hands cup your face and your fingers are clutching onto the buttons of his shirt. 

“Mine?” He asks. 

“Yours,” you agree airily. 

As soon as your head meets the sheets of his bed, his fingers are tangled in your hair and your hands are exploring his back. The muscles ripple underneath your touch and it’s absolute bliss; such happiness that you haven’t genuinely felt in a while. You can’t believe that you’d come to terms with being lonely for the rest of your life, when a man like this was out there. 

He shrugs off his dress shirt, and you’re at a loss for words to describe him. As though he were carved from marble, your very own personal statue of David. So beautifully delicate yet powerful when he lunges for your lips once more. He consumes you, until all you breathe is him.

You both lay there for a while. Intertwined beneath the sheets, with a tattooed arm wrapped around your abdomen holding you close. His nose is buried in your hair and you’re still trying to calm your high, though you don’t want it to dissipate into the air. It’s the only proof that you’ll ever have to show that he had claimed you.

“I’m not sure if this is the right time to ask, but,” he mumbles and stretches before balancing on his forearm to stare down at you. “I’d really like to take you out for dinner some time, if you’re willing? I know you may have a busy schedule-”

“I’d love to.” 

You don’t care if he’ll fit into your routine. You don’t care who he is, or what he does, but you do know how he makes you feel. Freeing, and giddy as if you were a teenager all over again. Whatever it may come to, you took that risk and it’s the excitement you’ve been craving, all lying in Kaminari Denki. 

Chapter Text

The first class of the semester is taxing, even for someone like Bakugou. He grew so accustomed to his summer routine that he completely forgot about the upcoming school schedule. Regardless, he drags himself to an 8 AM that he unintentionally registered for, because despite being a morning person, it definitely is way too early to learn chemistry. 

With a sigh, he finds a spot near the back of the lecture hall. So far, everything seemed to be normal except for the fact that he’s blinking back sleep. How he’d kill for a nap later today, if only his day wasn’t so packed. After this, he has two more lectures to attend and they sure as hell weren’t going to be a walk in the park. 

He’s playing on his phone, texting a groupchat with his three other friends that are somewhere on campus, and grunts in mild amusement at a meme that Kaminari sent. A tremor in the table causes him to glance up at the source; a girl his age with large eyes and a cheerful simper. He silently pleads that you don’t sit next to him because just by looking at you, he can tell that you’re annoying. 

He spent the last ten minutes or so peering down at his phone that he failed to notice the seats around him gradually getting filled, thus leaving you to take the one empty spot. Right beside him. He tries not to scowl, but he can’t help it. And why the hell are you smiling so much at 8 in the goddamn morning?

Clumsily, you make haste towards the vacant seat while trying to maneuver around other students. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you fumbling with your backpack and water flask as you nearly trip over a chair leg. Great, you’re an idiot, too. Maybe if you didn’t show up right before class was supposed to start you could’ve snagged a better seat to accommodate your...awkwardness.

The professor saunters into the room and greets the class with a joyous bellow of an introduction to chemistry. To be honest, Bakugou had no interest in the course. He preferred math or literature than the sciences, but if he just got this out of the way he could forget about it by next semester. 

Right away, the professor jumps into a presentation and he begrudgingly takes out his notebook and starts scribbling. During the half hour mark out of a total hour and fifteen minutes, he lets his eyes wander around the classroom out of boredom. He hears the popping of marker caps and watches you highlight, drawing neat fonts and vocab bubbles in various colors. He’s so occupied with admiring your handwriting that he doesn’t notice that you’re staring curiously back at him. 

He blinks and averts his gaze toward the board, while you just smile and brush it off. 

Afterwards, he’s packing up his belongings and goes to stand, only to bump into you by accident. You squeak and fumble your pencil case as he mutters an apology, one that you barely hear but accept anyway.

“It’s okay!” You beam, and either you really need to lay off the caffeine or he needs some ASAP. “But I’m (Y/N). We’re seat mates!”

“Okay?” 

When you realize that he isn’t going to give up his name, you purse your lips and suck your teeth. “So, are you a freshman, too? I think I saw you at orientation but there were a lot of angry blond guys, so it’s hard to tell,” you trail off. 

He doesn’t know how or what to even respond, though his instinct is telling him to just walk away and ignore you. Instead, he rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I’m not angry.”

You sling your backpack over your shoulder and spin on your heel. “Suuure,” you sing, and trip on another chair leg. Flying forward, grabbing for the air, he tugs on your backpack to steady you. 

“You need to wear a caution sign,” he grumbles. He slips past you and parts ways, just to slump into yet another chair for another boring hour and fifteen minutes.

The day after the next, he sees you once again. This time you arrived earlier than he does, partly because he slept in a little longer because Kirishima kept him up late. He knew that rooming with the idiot had its repercussions, but he couldn’t predict that the redhead would be up playing video games until midnight. 

“Hi!” You say brightly. Again, he sits next to you because there is no other option. It’s an unspoken rule that the seat you pick on the first day of class is to be exclusively yours until the end of the semester. Oddly enough, as much as he hated assigned seats in high school, he didn’t mind it much in college. Apparently so did everyone else.

He raises his eyebrows slightly in acknowledgement, and tries to fight off the ungodly scowl off his lips, but it’s inevitable. He’s tired, cranky, and running on shitty black coffee- in summary, he’s in a garbage mood.

A frown grows on your face but he ignores it, and rather takes out his notebook and utensils. 

“You look sleepy,” you comment thoughtfully. Reflexively, he grits his teeth and rolls his eyes. It’s not the worst thing to say but he still takes offense. “Thanks, but I don’t remember asking.” 

You take no hard feelings to his bitter sarcasm and instead lean towards him with interest. “Is your roommate bothersome, too? Mine is always up watching dramas on her laptop late at night.”

He deadpans.

“Are you always so quiet?” You ponder with an innocent smile.

“Are you always this annoying first thing in the morning?” 

A hand is placed over your heart and you pout. “Don’t be mean! I’m trying to be nice here and you’re making it very hard, Mr. Sass Man.”

Bakugou snorts. “I’m not over here begging for you to talk to me in the first place.”

“Well, I’m gonna! So take the stick out of your ass and accept my friendliness already.” 

You harrumph, turning your body away from his and face the chalkboard at the front. He glances at you, puzzled at your squeaky outburst and has no clue why it means so much to you. Maybe you were like Deku, trying to make new friends in a new school and suddenly everyone adores you and Bakugou is left kicking rocks. Well, it wasn’t going to be him no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t need your pity or friendship, and he definitely didn’t want another idiot taking up his time. He already had three to babysit.

The lecture went on as per usual and you became quiet. The marker caps still popped and irritated him, yet he found himself sneaking a view of your notes. They did look pretty damn neat and colorful. When class ended, you pack up your things and don’t look back. Not even a wave goodbye. For some reason, guilt settles into his stomach for the rest of the day.

As soon as he arrives back at his dorm, he tosses his book bag over in a corner and is not even surprised to see the three dumbasses hogging up his beanbag chairs and shouting over a video game. Mario Kart, to be specific, and Bakugou can play a mean round of rainbow road.

“Hey, dude. How were your classes?” Kirishima asks through a mouthful of gushers. He can spot the gooey blue goodness from anywhere. The blond grimaces and snags the box away from them.

“Lame- and stop eating all the fucking gushers, we just bought them.”

“But they’re my favorite!” Kaminari whines. Bakugou kicks the back his beanbag and he narrows his golden eyes over his shoulder, muttering “jackass”.

“I thought you liked your classes,” smiled Sero, who’s sitting idly on the bed behind the flatscreen. “What were they again?”

“Stats, creative writing and,” Bakugou huffs. “This stupid ass chemistry class.”

Kaminari snickers at the rhyme and Sero slaps the back of his head. Kirishima inspects his friend who appears to be squinting angrily at the TV, his hands folded in his lap as he gets comfortable next to the raven-haired boy.

“Damn, bro. You got beef with science or what?”

“No,” Bakugou sneers, “It’s this girl who sits next to me.”

All three of his friends collectively ‘oooh’ and chortle at his confession. He rolls his eyes and throws himself onto his back in a silent tantrum.

“Stop acting like I have the hots for her or something. She’s just annoying and gets on my nerves.”

Kaminari sends him a teasing grin. “It’s only like the second day.”

“Yeah. Exactly my fuckin’ point, dunce face.” 

“I see this is a sensitive subject for you,” Sero says muffled. His lips are blue and when he shows a toothy box of a smile, so are his teeth. Bakugou doesn’t notice. “But is she actually annoying or is she just friendly?” 

“She’s irritating and awkward as hell. But her notes are pretty, I guess. Like she always brings these colored highlighters to class.” He cringes at the last part. Since when did he think that? He just meant you had neat handwriting and maybe...he should do the same.

“Oh, really?” The three share a look.

“Whatever. She gave me an attitude today and tried to make me feel bad, so-“

“Now you feel bad?” 

Bakugou groans and rubs at his face. “No. I’m pissed. She told me to take the stick out of my ass!”

Kaminari guffaws. “She gotcha good, didn’t she? I like this girl. Can I meet her sometime?” 

“I’m done talking about this bullshit. Now,” the blond sits upwards and reaches for the wireless controller. “You bastards had better been practicing ‘cause I’m ready to kick some serious ass.” 

“Ooh! I wanna be Bowser!” pleads Kaminari.

“I’M ALWAYS BOWSER, YOU IDIOT!” 

The following Monday, his expectations are high. Nobody just tells him off like that, makes him feel like shit and gets away with it. With piercing red eyes, he scans the room and is pleased to see you sitting right where he thought you’d be. He wants to demand an apology, but when you beam up at him like nothing happened, that’s when his grudge fades away. 

“Hi, Bakugou-kun!” Oh, man. Why does he feel so pleased? 

“Hi,” he grunts back. You clasp your hands together excitedly and his face begins to feel flushed. He hides his cheeks by sinking into his chair. 

“Aww, I finally get a response other than a glare! We’re making progress.”

“Progress of what, exactly?”

“Of becoming friends, duh.”

Now you’re getting ahead of yourself. There’s no way in hell Bakugou is going to let you weasel yourself into his friend group. “I didn’t say we’re going to be friends.”

“Yeah, but I have to sit next to you for the whole semester- and I hate chemistry! How am I supposed to make it fun?”

He wouldn’t have thought that you hated chemistry by the way you’re taking notes. “Whatever. Listen, I’ll take your advice of removing said stick from my ass and I’ll be nicer.” When he sees your eyes widen in surprise, he shakes a finger at you. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna be goddamn Mary Poppins.”

You hold your hands up in defense. “Hey, I’m not asking for no Mary Poppins.” You grin and twist in your chair to face the board. “But thank you! I promise I’ll try not to annoy you anymore.”

Wait a minute. Something about that phrase doesn’t sit right with Bakugou.

The next few weeks are filled with routine; classes, study, homework, sleep. He hardly even has time to eat with the amount of work he has to keep up with, yet he doesn’t bother asking for assistance. He had no issues with doing it by himself in high school, and he had pretty good grades too. The only difference is that college courses have a heavier load, and that’s something he wasn’t prepared for. There’s too much going on and not enough time to catch up. Because he’s stubborn as a brick, he won’t admit that he’s struggling, even though everything would be so much easier if he actually knew chemistry. It’s just a flurry of weird equations and memorization that barely make any sense at all and he’s reaching his breaking point far too early in the semester. 

“I know a certain someone who might help you,” sing songs Kaminari. He sits across from him at the on-campus cafe along with Kirishima and Sero. 

“I’m not asking her if we can study together.”

“The first exam is coming up, isn’t it?” The redhead asks. “How well do you think you’ll do on your own?”

Honestly, he’ll bomb it. “Decent.”

“If you just ask, I’m sure she’ll say-“

“Hi, Bakugou-kun!” There’s that endearing chipper that annoys him so. Speak of the nuisance. Your body language goes shy when you realize that he’s surrounded by a crowd of morons that ogle at you like a piece of meat, and it bothers him. Not only do you look uncomfortable, but obviously they think you’re pretty. Of course he knew it but, damn, did everyone else have to think so too?!

“Hi, (Y/L/N),” he responds curtly. Kaminari bolts up from his seat like a rocket, curling his hand around yours and introducing himself with an embarrassing suave accent that makes Bakugou want to punch him through a wall. 

You giggle coyly and rub the back of your neck. “Nice to meet you, Kaminari-san.”

“Might I say, you are stunning! I must have walked into a museum, ‘cause you’re a work of art baby!”

A blush forms on your cheeks and your voice grows small. “So, Bakugou-kun, I wanted to ask if you had the notes for-“

“Do you want to study with me at the library tomorrow?” The words had slipped out of his mouth so fast that he didn’t have time to catch himself. He doesn’t know why he did it, but he didn’t like the way Kaminari was rubbing his grubby hands up your forearm and saying stupid cheesy lines. 

Your face transforms even pinker but you nod anyway, pulling yourself out of Kaminari’s grasp. “Um, okay…”

“Great. It’s a date. Be there at six.” He puts emphasis on the word ‘date’ because that was the only way to get the dunce-faced fool away from you. With a squeak of agreement, you eagerly walk away from that awkward situation but not without tripping on your own shoelaces. You catch yourself with an ‘ack!’ and go on your way.

Bakugou slams a hand on the table. “What the hell was that, Denki?”

“Oh, that?” The smug bastard clasps his hands around the back of his head and smirks nonchalantly. “That was just my plan being a total success.”

“You bonehead! She’s not just some toy you can play with, asshole.”

“Why do you care?” Sero chimes in.

“I don’t!”

The three of them say altogether: “He likes her.”

Alright. Bakugou might be rude, brash and abrasive, and a list of a ton of other things but he isn’t stupid enough to not know his own emotions. Hell, he isn’t heartless . He’s a tough nut to crack, though, and yet despite all odds you managed to grow on him. The past few weeks you’d been trying your damnedest to get him to crack a grin, chuckle, even a whistle out of him. You talked to him about anything and everything, seeming to forget all about your promise to not annoy him, but that’s the problem. Bakugou didn’t mind one bit. 

The next day is quite cumbersome. You sit across from him and fiddle with your pen, glossing over some notes. It’s almost as though you completely overlooked the events that happened yesterday. The end of the pen is in between your teeth as you zero in on something important, while he just continues to stare at the way your lips part. Quickly he adjusts himself in his seat and flips a couple pages to act like he’s occupied. Curse his teen hormones. 

You clear your throat before speaking up softly, “Kaminari-san is an interesting character.”

Bakugou scoffs. “That’s one way to put it.” 

“I gotta say that was definitely in the top ten most obscure moments of my life.” 

When he meets your eyes, you’re peering up at him from your lashes, as if you’re waiting for him to find humor in your words. Fine, he’ll throw you a bone. He laughs monotonously before going back to his scrambled mess of a study guide.

“So this is a date, huh?” You tease.

“No,” he says crossly. “I just saw how uncomfortable you were and I did the only thing that would get him to shut up. That’s it.”

Okay, maybe he was a little harsh there. But what else was he supposed to do? It’s not like he lied. And he couldn’t just tell you that Kaminari only acted that way to piss him off, because that would only raise more suspicion and he didn’t want you to think he likes you. Even though…he kinda does. 

“But I thought-“ You pause. Hurt flashes across your face before you cast your sights downwards before he could notice. “Well, thank you, Bakugou-kun.”

“Don’t mention it.”

On the bright side, you did manage to help him study for chemistry. Considering that you said you hated the subject, he assumed that maybe you weren’t good at it. He was proven wrong when you had a stack of completed worksheets and a whole spread of colorful notes. Maybe he should’ve asked you a while ago and not two days before the actual test, but whatever. He’ll definitely ask you for help when finals come along. 

When he arrives home later that night, little did he know that there would be an interrogation taking place the second he stepped past the threshold. The three musketeers all bombard him at the door, with Kirishima on the bed and dumb and dumber bouncing foot to foot with excitement. 

“How did it go?” Smiles Kirishima. Bakugou slips off his shoes and stares blankly at them. 

“Uh, fine, I guess.”

Kirishima and Kaminari’s shoulders simultaneously slump, with the vibrant blond being the most noticeably disappointed. “Oh my god, he fucked it up!” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You owe me a thousand yen. Pay up, dude,” snickers Sero, holding up his palm to a crestfallen Kirishima. 

“I was rooting for you, Bakugou!” He cries.

“Will you all just shut up? Number one, it wasn’t really a date. Two, she doesn’t like me and I don’t like her so stop betting on our nonexistent relationship.”

His friends stare at him while he throws his temper tantrum, planting face-first into the mattress and groans. He really did fuck it up, didn’t he? The chagrin that developed in your voice when he shut down even the idea of a date with you spelled it out clearly for him. 

Kirishima pats a comforting rhythm on his back like one would do for a baby. “You’ll get ‘em next time, buddy.”

“Hell no! He lost his chance,” Kaminari scolds. “I gave you the perfect set up and what do you do? You blow it!”

For once in his stupid nineteen years of living, Kaminari is right. Bakugou just hopes that maybe you aren’t too upset about it and never irritate him again. 

At the very least, the somewhat established ‘friendship’ you’ve been so determined to have with him is maintained albeit at a slower pace. He practically deflates with relief when he sees you grinning up at him, bright and early, at 8 AM yet it’s still a challenge for him to mirror that, especially since he’s bleary with sleep. The most he gives is a grunt of recognition. He continues his college routine, in addition to joining you for studying sessions before chemistry exams. You even offered to help him with a few assignments from his other classes, which only hinted that you may have blossoming feelings for him as well. That, and you gave him a few of your highlighters. 

Still, it's an unexplored territory for Bakugou. He isn’t sure how to exactly confess, or deal with his unexpected growth of affections- or if he even wants to. 

It’s a decision he makes impulsively when you aren’t in class for two days in a row. By some stroke of luck he managed to find your roommate, who coincidentally is someone Sero knows very well but he was spared the details. The pink-haired girl gave the location of your dorm room as well as the explanation behind your disappearance quite easily. Almost as if she knew who he was and wanted him to go see you herself. 

She leads the way to yours and her residence as he holds a tray of warm soup, saltine crackers and chamomile tea. Unlocking the door, he’s exposed to a room with hardly any lighting coming in through the windows and a series of sniffles and coughs. 

Groggily, you call out for her. “Mina? Did you bring me some soup from the cafeteria?” 

“I sure did!” She rambles on about how dark the room is and pushes open the curtains, to which you sit up and cup your hands over your eyes.

“For fuck’s sake, Mina,” you whine. “I wanted to sleep a bit more.”

Bakugou finds himself smirking; he’s never once heard you utter any curse words besides the first time you met.

“Well, how can you eat in the dark?” 

“My night vision,” you reply sarcastically. Rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, you immediately are taken aback by the blond standing awkwardly in the entryway. “Bakugou-kun?!” 

“Don’t just stand there!” Mina rolls her black eyes and gestures to your bed. “Bring her the food!” 

“It’s kinda hard to take off my shoes with a tray full of hot fuckin’ soup and tea, raccoon eyes!” 

She groans and lifts the tray from his grasp before placing it in your lap. He slips off his shoes and finds a spot to sit and wait. You simply stare at him.

“What are you doing here, Bakugou-kun?” 

“Eat first, (Y/L/N). She told me you haven’t had shit for three days now.” 

“But-“

“ Eat. ”

You do as you’re told, and he keeps watch to make certain that you drink every drop of that chicken noodle soup while Mina wanders into her room doing who knows what. He sends a quick message to the groupchat his whereabouts and a pelting of questions follow a few minutes later.

After sneezing far too many times, you ask him again his reason for visiting you. 

“You didn’t show up for two days. One of your friends from chemistry got worried and sent me to go check on you.” He clasps his hands behind his head and wanders around your room aimlessly, just peering curiously at the girl group posters over your wall. 

You quirk a brow. “I don’t have any friends in chemistry other than you.”

“What about that one guy who asked you for a pencil that one time?”

“I don’t know him! He’s just some random kid.” 

After he goes quiet for a few moments, he can practically hear the smile in your voice when you ask, “Bakugou-kun...were you worried about me?”

“Tch.” Kick him while he’s down, why don’t you. “And what if I was?”

“Then I’d think that you’re really sweet.” 

He turns away from a collection of albums sitting on your desk and scowls. A coral shade dusts across his cheeks and you giggle at his flustered stupor.

“So,” he clears his throat. “I was thinking that maybe, uh, when you feel better, we can have a study date for finals.”

With widened doe eyes, you tilt your head in confusion. “You mean, like an actual study date?”

He nods, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Like you bring the highlighters, I’ll bring the pen and paper. And maybe after we can go to a cafe off campus and get something to eat. My treat.”

When you go speechless, his heart drops into his stomach. Maybe he said the wrong thing. Or maybe you wanted to eat first, then go study. Or maybe you didn’t want to eat at all and just study- 

“I’d love to, Bakugou-kun.” You smile demurely. All he can gather is a small “okay” as he makes his way towards the door, glancing back at you to wish good health before he closes it behind him. He feels giddy and excited and most of all, relieved.

He pulls out his phone and opens his messages.

To: educated idiots 

All right, dickweeds, it’s official. We’re going on a date. 

Chapter Text

Hawks knows better than to worry you.

And in the first year of your relationship, he had done a pretty good job of doing so. Except for a few mishaps that technically weren’t his fault, everything was going smoothly. After all, being number two hero meant that he certainly did his job well. Since the start of his career he’s managed to seize and defeat all kinds of villains without a single scratch, and perhaps that was the reason he got ahead of himself. One slip-up ultimately landed him in the hospital with a few scrapes and bruises, injuries that the average person can say they’ve had in their life, yet you stare at him like he’s on his deathbed. 

He hates seeing you being the slightest bit upset, even more so when he’s the one behind it. But he also knows that you’re not just sad ; you’re pissed. So he prepares himself to be scolded as he’s slouched on the sofa of your shared apartment. Footsteps pad across the hardwood floor and he can hear you chatting on the phone with someone. As soon as your eyes meet his innocently rounded hues of gold, they narrow. His shoulders slump and he sighs. There’s no use in getting out of the dog house now, or should he say- bird house. 

“Yeah, he’s here.” A pause. One arm is wrapped around your midsection while balancing the other holding the phone. “Thanks. I’ll let him know. Bye.”

The silence that follows is not as threatening as he originally thought. Deep down you’re scared, he can read that easily on your face. You just don’t want to say it because you’ve always been a stubborn little thing. 

“Hi, dove,” he chirrups. He waves a bandaged hand and you scowl. You throw the cell onto the cushions next to him and place your hands on your hips. Honestly, he’s the tiniest bit turned on. Like a school kid with a ridiculously huge crush on his hot high school teacher. 

“Your doctor wanted me to remind you that the dressing needs to be cleaned every eight hours,” you huff. “Or else they could get infected.”

He waves a hand flippantly and tucks it behind his head. “Eh, I’ll be fine.”

Your eyes turn into ice shards by the second, and you roll them in annoyance as his carefree expression doesn’t change. Hawks simply runs his gaze over your body with indecent thoughts roaming his brain. He can’t help it; maybe he hit his head or something when he was in battle.

“Takami Keigo,” you chide. “What happened? Do you know how worried I was when I got a call from Endeavor- of all people!- telling me that you were at the hospital! I didn’t even know he had my number.” 

“I gave it to him for emergency purposes,” he tells you, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He knows the two of you butt heads more than rams. “Look, I’m okay. Can’t we just-“

“I know that being a hero is dangerous, but damn it, Kei. You told me you’d be more careful!”

He doesn’t notice your eyes getting watery until he stands, and goes to wrap his arms around you. He grins widely and laughs as you just stare back in dismay, slapping his hands away and hugging yourself defensively.

“Why the hell are you laughing at me? You think this is funny?!”

“No, no...it’s just,” he licks his lips, trying to wipe the amusement off his face before he pisses you off even more. “You’re crying.” 

Hawks has only seen you cry twice. One, because of a TV show that had a bad season finale, and two, because he gave you a charming heart locket for your birthday. Yet those tears were during happy, lighter moments. Your fist balls up and for a split second, he thinks you’re going to punch him. Not that you’ve ever resorted to such violence before, because that sassy tongue of yours keeps him in his place well enough, but because you’re genuinely concerned for him and he's acting inconsiderate. Maybe he really did screw up this time.

“Can’t you see that I hate seeing you injured? I can’t stand it!” Your hands cover your face as you sniffle, fervently wiping away the tears before they fall. He frowns. “If something happened to you, it’d kill me.” 

Strong arms wrap you into a tight embrace, as you quietly sob into his chest. It’s one of the few occasions where you’re vulnerable, wearing your heart on your sleeve and it’s up to him to fix it, to heal whatever is broken because it’s what you always do for him. You’re too strong for your own good. 

“Hey,” he coos into your hair, pressing a soothing kiss against the soft strands. “Nothing will happen to me.”  

“You don’t know for sure,” you counter bitterly, going to pull away but he holds you in place, looking into your eyes with a seriousness that almost doesn’t suit him. 

“I promise you, dove.” There’s a sparkle in his eyes that hold a trustworthy weight, so you blink up at him, gauging his face for a few moments before sighing. All your worries subdued with just one crooked smile.

He rubs circles between your shoulder blades before running his fingers up your spine, to your neck, finding that delicate spot at the nape that you love so much. “I guess I should be more careful from now on, especially with my little fireball waiting at home for me.”

You humph, snaking your way out of his arms and into the kitchen. He follows you, watching with golden eyes as your pour yourself a glass of red wine. 

“You know alcohol is an aphrodisiac, right?” His eyebrows quirk suggestively but you don’t grab the bait, you just shoot him an indignant scowl.

“Nice try, Chicken Little, but you’re hurt.” 

“The nurse said I’m on bedrest. Don’t you think I could use some company?” He bats his long eyelashes at you, cornering your tiny frame until all you’re able to do is look at him. A light blush tints your cheeks a beautiful coral shade and he grins like the cat who got the cream.

“Ugh,” you groan, wrapping your arms around his neck reluctantly with your lips twist into your own simper. “What did you have in mind?”

He hums thoughtfully. “Well, you and I could order takeout, finish that bottle of wine and watch those rom-coms you like. Maybe later you’ll let me touch your naughty parts, if I’m lucky.”

A small chuckle leaves your mouth before you kiss him, muttering, “You’re such a birdbrain. But I love you, Keigo.”

“I love you most.”

When he’s finally settled in bed with you cradled in his arms, he feels safe. On top of the world, like nothing could ever beat the feeling of being next to you. You might be a little rough around the edges, but you’re sweet. Like sour skittles or honey barbeque. He loves the taste, so he won’t complain, and your presence is more comforting than warm blankets will ever be. 

So in his mind, with a cheesy romance flick on the flatscreen and udon noodles half finished, he makes a promise to himself to make you feel safe, too. 

Chapter Text

Gentle rain pours on the roof of the apartment you and Todoroki share. The quiet rhythm of droplets against the glass of the window, cascading off of the roof, is a lullaby all on its own. Thunder bellows in the distance and the flash of lightning illuminates the bedroom for a quick moment. You turn your eyes towards the bedside clock: 6:28 AM. How you were awakened by a soft thunderstorm, you aren’t sure. Yet you find it difficult to go back to sleep.

Looking to the right of you, lies Todoroki. An arm is draped over your abdomen and his face appears so calm and smooth, not one care in the world. He’s beautiful and warm, a characteristic that you take advantage of in situations like these. Where the weather is cold and wet, as well as soothing all the worries you carry. You nestle into his chest and his hold tightens, pulling you closer until you’re nearly on top of him. His nose burrows into your hair and he breathes in deeply before blinking away the sleep. You gaze up him dreamily, watching his lashes flutter and his lips transform into a lovely pout. 

“You’re awake at this hour? Go back to sleep, my love,” he murmurs. There’s a rasp in his voice that rumbles in his throat, and suddenly there’s an urge to feel it beneath your mouth. You kiss under his jaw, peppering feathery light kisses along his neck and below his ear. An airy smile emerges until you capture it in a longing kiss. 

You sigh into his mouth a muffled “I can’t” and his breathing becomes heavier until all he can muster is a small thrum. Fingers trail up under your shirt before pulling it over your head hastily. With nipples chilled and hardened, he kneads one gently between a thumb and index finger, while he leaves open-mouthed kisses down your sternum. Ghosts of his name fly through your teeth and you’re tugging on tufts of hair that sit on the nape of his neck. 

Thunder ruptures loudly as your gasps grow louder and more needy, with an overwhelming desire burning your core to feel his body against yours. Not knowing where yours begins and his ends. 

Through the thin cotton fabric of his pajama pants, there’s a familiar hardness that rubs against your center. Rolling your hips down ever so slowly elicits a low groan from Todoroki, now fully awake and erect, helping rid yourself of your panties without breaking the kiss.

You’ve missed being so close to him, and feeling his love for you spread throughout your being had never felt so euphoric. Maybe it’s because you’re both bleary with sleep, with eyes heavy and lidded, yet it’s like the first time he’s touched you in forever. His fingertips cause fire to ablaze atop your skin, and the second they leave there are goosebumps in their wake. So you dive into him, allowing yourself to fully submerge in the comfort of his muscular arms where he holds you as if you mean the world to him. 

After his waistband sits on his thighs, his cock rests against his stomach. Nimble fingers wrap around him, stroking him a few times and flicking your wrist around the tip. All the while his tongue glides across the roof of your mouth, behind your teeth and his own bite down tenderly on your bottom lip. You guide his shaft to rest between your folds, rocking slowly and meticulously as Todoroki just watches through lidded blue and grey eyes. Your forearms rest beside his chest, seeing the way it rises and falls with each deep breath.

In an odd combination of lust and drowsiness, you slow your actions and practically drag out the process. After all, there’s no rush on a rainy Saturday morning. You have all the time in the world to make up for what was lost when he’s away at work during the week. Todoroki doesn’t seem to mind either, although with the way he’s whimpering, you might just be testing his patience. Usually he’s the one who is in control, and albeit you adore that side of him that can easily transform you into a withering mess, you also enjoy taking the reins once in a while, going at your own pace. He exerts himself so hard that he deserves to be pampered and worshiped; this would be just a small favor.

A hand is placed on your hip to steady you, while the other is weaving through your hair, pushing loose strands behind your ear so he can take in the vision of you working his cock so beautifully. Concentration furrowing your brow, focusing on how good just the length of him is making you feel. Pants leave his mouth until he can’t take it anymore or else he’ll reach his end too soon.

“So eager this morning, aren’t you?” He cooed, halting you with just a firm grip on your hips. There’s a peaceful lilt in his voice that just makes you want to snuggle into his body, if it weren’t for the lust pooling between your thighs. 

You tilt your head and blink at him coyly. “I missed you, Shouto. Can you blame me?”

“I guess not,” he smiles warmly. It’s a delightful sight that you can’t help but mirror in return. “Because I missed you more.” 

His hands bring your face towards his and he smothers you in kisses, pressing his lips to your jaw, your cheeks, your forehead. Repeatedly so, then lands a final kiss onto your open mouth. His touch feels like heaven and if it were possible, you’d rather be bathed in it like sunlight. He trails feather-like strokes down the length of your bare back, over your spine, all the while you apply the same attention to his shaft. Increasing the pressure as you reach the tip, squeezing the swollen head and spreading your essence over the surface. A low guttural groan rises from his throat as he bucks into your hand involuntarily, and he almost looks ashamed at how desperate he’s becoming. Almost. 

“Tell me what you want, Shouto.” Your honeyed tone is not lost on him as your touch falters and disappears altogether, and his stone and azure gaze is now centered on you sitting back on your knees so innocently. “I want to make you feel good.” 

“My sweet baby girl, always so caring,” he hums thoughtfully. You melt at the praise and are itching to finally have him inside you, riding him into oblivion until all you see is white, but you bite your bottom lip instead. “I think you’ve done enough for now.” He rises from his back before guiding you onto yours, swiftly removing his pants and briefs at once and mounting you. You cage him in with your legs, a habit that comes with him taking charge while wanting him to pump himself into your cavern until there’s nothing left, and his lips whisper into your ear, “I’ll tell you what I want though, sweetheart.” 

Your core is practically aching to be played with as you lift your hips to gain any kind of friction, anything to soothe it, but it’s fruitless. He smirks down at you lazily, and maybe this is where you’re supposed to be. Underneath him, begging for what you want when he’s more than happy to oblige for the right price. This is how he relaxes. 

“I wanna hear you scream for me,” a wet tongue grazes the shell of your ear, before nipping at the lobe like a kitten. “Be a good girl and come all over my cock, yeah?”

“Fuck, Shou-” You gasp, and he thrusts himself into you all at once. He goes at a constant pace while bringing your thighs up to his chest as your calves fall over his shoulders. Delving deeper, and all you can do is moan helplessly. Eyes shut and lips parted because it feels so, so undeniably good to be full. 

“T-touch yourself for me,” he commands, his voice ragged and winded and you do as he says. Reaching down to where your bodies meet and caressing the bundle of nerves. Your other hand fists the sheets and you can feel a ball in the bottom of your stomach beginning to unravel, chanting his name over and over until the knot explodes. You cry out as he holds you close, with high-pitched whines leaving your mouth until he kisses you quiet. 

“Such pretty sounds,” he grins, hooking a finger underneath your chin to make you meet his stare. “We’re not quite done yet, love.” 

You’re flipped onto your stomach, legs spread as he kneads the round muscles of your ass, opening them so he can slip past your folds and enter you from behind. It’s a new sensation that causes you to tremble and the rough prodding of the head against the ridges is otherworldly. He collapses onto your back, propped up with a forearm and uses his fingertips to draw random shapes on your arm. Moving your hair away from your neck, exposing the sensitive expanse of your shoulders, he peppers longing kisses against the flesh. 

“So beautiful,” he purrs. “You’re beautiful and all mine, right?”

You mewl, nodding fervently, “I’m yours, Shouto. Forever.” 

“Mmm,” he gives one enthusiastic snap of his hips and you gasp sharply, already close to reaching your second demise at his momentum. “Ahh… hah... love you, (Y/N)...I love you…” 

Those three little words send electricity straight into your abdomen, and you come again. The way he professes his affections for you never ceases to leave you stunned in silence, your brain turning into mush because you’re so giddy with happiness. Your heat clenching around him, pulsating as you return from your high, seems to encourage him to do the same. With quaking breaths, he ruts himself inside you until he’s sure that everything he had is buried deeply, marking you his. 

It’s a few minutes of long silence that follows. Nothing but the pour of rain and the howling of wind outside that fills the void, and Todoroki catching his breath. The hand that once steadied him on the bed is now kneading your breast, feeling the warmth beneath his palms and your beating heart. You stir, tossing your head over your shoulder to meet his eyes. He looks sleepy, spent and gushing as he runs a pink tongue over his teeth as he grins lopsidedly. 

You giggle before shying away from him, nestling yourself into the pillow as he rises from the mattress, grabbing a tissue and wiping you and himself clean. You watch his body move gracefully as he pulls up his pajama pants, and pout when he doesn’t return to you completely. He just pecks your lips once more, breath mingling with yours. 

“I’m going to make coffee,” he tells you, the slightest simper playing on his lips before he makes a suggestion. “We can have breakfast at our favorite spot, if you like. Once the rain clears up, at least.” 

You smile brightly. “I’d love to, honey.” 

He nods, turning to leave you stretching in the pale morning light that glimmers through the blinds and onto your naked skin.

You contemplate staying in bed for a little while, but you already find yourself missing his presence. So you throw on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, padding into the kitchen to follow him. 

Chapter Text

Whenever you see Nejire Hado, it’s as if time stands still. Pale blue hair flows like clear water and her eyes shine like diamonds. She walks the halls with confidence that you can’t help but admire, because everyone’s gaze is automatically drawn to her wherever she goes. With a voice as sweet as honey, lips pink as a rose, and a smile brighter than the sun, she’s beautiful in every sense of the word. And it makes your heart ache terribly. 

Someone as pretty as Nejire is clearly desirable among many, and though there are a few that have tried, there’s even fewer that were successful. You believe that she could really have any guy she wants, so there’s no reason for her to settle. Yet she never tells you why she rejects so many. You would feel bad for them if you didn’t have a crush on her already. 

Maybe, you think, she likes someone else. A couple potential suitors come to mind, like Togata. He’s a friendly person, smart, and incredible with his quirk. They’ve been friends longer than you’ve even known her. Then there’s Amajiki, a timid boy with an impressive quirk. Both of them are those closest to her besides yourself, so it’s a possibility. But the longer you contemplate the idea, the stranger it seems. If she really wanted to date one of them, she would have, especially with her being a very blunt individual. So you cross them off the list. 

Now you really have no clue who it could be. 

In the dorms, you toss and turn in your bed. Insomnia got the better of you most nights and leaves you wide awake, blinking up at the ceiling. Trying to close your eyes does no good, because she’s always there. Laughing and looking at you in a way that makes you weak at the knees, with butterflies in your tummy. 

You’ve come to terms with your feelings for Nejire a long time ago. In middle school, in the girl’s locker rooms after gym class. You really didn’t mean to stare so much, it’s just that you were curious of a girl’s body. Not just any girl- Nejire. The way her hips curved and the dip of her lower back were erotic to you, causing for the first time a knot to form in your lower abdomen. A yearning to touch her and to feel her lips on yours. When she caught you, she only grinned while you were struggling to breathe right. It’s embarrassing, really, how much you crave that kind of intimacy with your best friend. Knowing that day after day, you fall harder for her when she doesn’t even notice.

Deep down, you know it’s not right for it to be one-sided. It certainly isn’t doing you any favors, but there’s a small part of you that has hope. Maybe one day it will come true. 

Guess you should keep dreaming. 

Heaving a sigh, you swing your legs off the bed. Padding down the hallway towards the kitchen, searching for a remedy to your dry mouth. Thinking of her only leads to negative affirmations, borderline bullying, and you can’t do that to yourself. Damn, even your own brain doesn’t like you. 

Glancing at the clock, it’s nearing midnight. Everyone should be asleep, you assume, until you hear footsteps. Light like a fairy and cautious like a fawn. A small voice calls your name from the dimly lit hallway, a voice you’d recognize anywhere.

“Sorry,” you respond sheepishly. “Did I wake you?”

Nejire waves her hands and saunters closer. “Not at all. I couldn’t sleep,” she assures you softly.

There’s something different about the way her sapphire eyes peer at you. They’re cloudy with anticipation- of what, you aren’t sure. Yet insecurity washes over you in a wave, as you press your back into the harsh marble of the counter. Suddenly the simple slip you’re wearing isn’t a sufficient cover up, exposing more skin than you’d like, and you’re burning. Turning crimson by the second. 

“Me neither,” you mumble, hastily downing a sip of water. She tilts her head curiously, stopping a few inches in front of you. The smell of her strawberry shampoo wafts into the air with each sway of her periwinkle strands. Her lashes long, lips cherry, and pale skin glowing. The swell of her breasts peeking out from her v-neck tee is dangerously enticing. Why the hell are your eyes always glued to her cleavage? 

“Something bothering you, (Y/N)-chan?” Her nimble fingers tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. It was meant to be comforting, but all it does is make you shiver. 

“N-nothing, honestly.” A whopper of a lie, but you can’t just tell her that you love her. You’d rather suffer in silence than lose your friendship.

“Oh,” she hums, her mouth parting in concentration as she continues her ministrations of stroking your arms before running a thumb along your decolletage, her whole hand rubbing your shoulder. It seems as though she’s focused, determined to figure something out for herself. “Do you ever think about being with a girl?”

Oh. So that’s where this is going. Not that you’re complaining at all, but you’re still nervous. You decide to play coy. “Um… what do you mean?”

“You know, like touching. Kissing,” her gaze flickers to yours and you swear your knees buckle, but she’s there to catch you. Her hands are gripping your thighs, her torso nestling in between them. “Tasting.”

A knot forms again in your stomach at the way her tone deepened. Low and sensual. 

“I have,” she smiles demurely, as if admitting some kind of secret she wasn’t supposed to reveal yet. Maybe it is. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I think about being with you so much that it drives me crazy.” 

Back up a second. “ Me?” You squeak out. 

“Yes, you,” she giggles. Her face falls with innocence and doubt. “Is that wrong of me?”

Shaking your head all too eagerly, you might as well have incriminated yourself. There’s a hitch in your throat that makes it difficult to speak, to say that it’s okay and that you want her just as much. You swallow hard around the lump of nerves. Nejire understands, and in a swift movement she kisses you. It’s fleeting and comparable to a breath of fresh air after years locked away from the outside world. Blush paints her cheekbones when she pulls away and you gape at her. It’s the cutest thing.

“C-can you...do that again?” You sound pathetic to your own ears, but you saw the way her irises lit up. You begin to wonder if this is all just a wet dream with how she doesn’t miss a beat. Her lips move with yours so effortlessly, deeply, and you would’ve never imagined Nejire being anything less than gentle. This is purposeful, zealous. Whether she’s trying to prove a point to herself, or you, either way she makes a good argument. 

Her hold on you roams further, to the crevice between your legs. Dragging her manicured nails atop the fabric of your panties earns her a whimper. She draws slow circles over the cotton, hooking underneath the edge and pulling it to the side until finally she meets your dripping center. You’d be ashamed at how wet you are if she didn’t indulge in you, sighing over the skin of your neck. Sucking harshly as a finger strokes the sensitive nub, coaxing more and more heavy pants when she goes faster. So much so, that you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop from moaning too loudly. 

“You’re so beautiful, (Y/N)-chan,” she smiles, watching you convulse and twitch beneath her touch before leaning in to whisper into your ear, “Tell me, how does it feel?” 

“N-Nejire…!” With your eyes clenched shut and head thrown back, it should be obvious. Yet there’s a twinkle in her dilated pupils that is demanding an answer. You could get used to this side of her. “Feels...so good…”

“I bet you taste good, too,” she grins. Her soft palms push the underside of your thighs upwards, until you’re leaning onto the counter and she dips below your line of sight. All you can do is wait as she slides off your panties, her warm breath meeting the dampened flesh. She inserts a digit into you, pumping it slowly and curling it against the ridges as her tongue flicks against your clit before sucking harshly. It all happened so quickly that you’re coming undone far too soon. 

When she rises, she’s licking her lips with a delighted smile while you’re trembling off your high. 

“God, Nejire. Why are you so good at that?” Your voice cracks with sheer surprise at what just occurred.

“I just did what I usually do with myself,” she shrugs, her arms wrapping around you in a tender hug. You don’t even want to imagine that, otherwise you’ll get ahead of yourself. “And what I thought you’d like.” 

“Um…” you glance around, rubbing your arm shyly. “Thank you..” 

She chuckles and grabs your hand, leading you back into the hallway. She kisses you goodnight, giving you a chance to taste your own essence on her tongue. 

“Wait, Nejire,” you call out quietly. “I didn’t...you know. Return the favor.” 

“Don’t worry, cutie. Next time.” With a wink, she takes her leave to her own room and you’re sinking onto your sheets. A satisfied smile grows uncontrollably and instead of fighting off sleep to think about it more, you give in. Closing your eyes with images of her snuggling up next to you and it's those thoughts that finally call you into a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

“Um, what are you doing?” 

A crimson wing shields you from a harsh gust of wind, a carefree smile gracing Takami’s lips. The soft plumage pulls you closer and you’re tempted to snuggle into the warmth he provides, but it’s better if you don’t. In the middle of Fukuoka, anyone could be watching and though it might seem like a meaningless act, the paparazzi are vermin itching for a story to boost their ratings. That kind of judgment isn’t something you’re prepared for, especially so early on in the relationship. Things had been going so well and the media wasn’t going to ruin it. 

“Just a guy trying to save his girlfriend from getting sick, is all,” he chirps. His golden eyes are avoidant of yours and all you can do is let him guide you further down the street. It seems to be empty for the most part, but you’re still on your guard; swatting away his roaming hands from grabbing on your ass and waist. Takami has always been a touchy-feely type of guy even before you started dating. You had to admit that the doting and affectionate side of him is endearing despite not being used to it at all.

Before you even realize it’s happening, a chase ensues between you and him. You try to escape his grasp and he follows, fingers reaching out to you as you bite your lip to keep from laughing. No matter how many times you pivot and dodge, he ultimately captures you in his arms and swings you up in a circle. With your feet far from the ground, eye to eye with the most handsome hero you could imagine. Even so, you strain yourself away from his frenzied kisses all over your face but it’s futile. Secretly you enjoy the attention he’s giving you, and it’s one way to end a boring day of patrolling the city. Takami seems to know this already with the way he’s continuing to suck on the sensitive skin behind your ear, all the while you’re giggling into the palm of your hand. 

A few days later on your day off, you’re cleaning your apartment. It’d been building up with random papers and dirty dishes and your schedule had been so hectic that you hardly noticed. Since Takami visited quite often during the evenings, he also managed to leave his clothes laying around your bedroom. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like wearing one of his t-shirts while yours are in the wash. They smell like his signature Dior cologne and they’re comfortably loose fitting, coming over your thighs like a tunic as you lounge around and watch TV. 

Somehow, a news channel is broadcasted on your screen as you flipped mindlessly through channels. A gossip news channel, no less. You think nothing of it until a photo of the winged hero appears, joined by a banner underneath that says: 

SECRET LOVE AFFAIR?: PRO HERO HAWKS’ GIRLFRIEND REVEALED! 

Following that announcement, a slideshow of photographs taken from that very day you were patrolling Fukuoka with Takami. One showing his hand caressing your waist, another where you two are full on making out. From the height and angle of the picture, you can only guess that whoever snapped it was clearly spying on you, hoping to make money off of yours and Takami’s expense. It’s safe to say you were fuming. You knew this would happen, and he didn’t care but you couldn’t put the blame on him at all. This would have happened eventually. You weren’t really expecting your entire relationship to be kept hidden forever, were you? All you wanted was a little privacy until things became more serious between you two.

It’s not like this is some huge scandal. Just that the number two hero has some fans among the public and media and they both are sure to make a fuss about it...and take it out on you. Of course Takami wouldn’t know just how much this worried you unless you told him about it. 

The elevator ride up to the top floor of the agency is uneasy, with you thinking that the people stuck with you inside are staring at you with judgment and ridicule. You’re the first to leave as soon as the doors open, rushing to his office and knocking out of courtesy before twisting the knob. 

Honey eyes immediately notice your presence as he rises from his desk rather quickly. He’s on alert, his wings fluffed up behind him as he takes in your disheveled appearance. You feel bad for not just shooting him a text to come over later, but you had to see him. You’d go mad if you spent any more time at your apartment alone, obsessing over the consuming thoughts.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong, dove?” Your shoulders sink with relief at his velvety soft voice and you just want to melt into it, if only your anxiety would allow that.

“Nothing, it’s just-“ You sigh, shutting the door behind you and walking towards his desk. “They found out. Some vulture followed us while we were patrolling a few days ago and took pictures.”

“Huh?” He blinks owlishly at you. “What do you mean?”

“There’s pictures of us frenching on the news, Kei.” Angry hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes with no chance at containing them. You wipe at your cheeks, feeling flustered and helpless. 

His face falls before he tucks you into his chest when you burst out in a sob. “I’m sorry.” 

Takami has no reason to apologize, but he can see you’re frightened. You sniff. “What if they hate me? What if they call me fat or say that I’m too ugly for you? What if I’m not good enough, what if-“ 

“Hey, hey, hey- shush.” Large calloused hands cup your head and you’re unable to look away from his concerned gaze. “You’re breaking my heart here,” he smiles, but there’s no humor in his words. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, okay? It isn’t like you to be this upset over what other people think.” 

“They’re your fans, Kei. If they hate me then you’ll lose support and your career will be ruined because of me.” 

He frowns, blinking at you incredulously. “If those idiots can’t see how much of a wonderful person you are and how happy you make me, then they aren’t my fans, (Y/N). I don’t need them anyway.” 

You respond with a shaky breath and he rubs your shoulders, down to your arms with comforting pressure, and you cling onto him like a child. He continues quietly, pressing his lips to your temple. “You’re beautiful, lovebird. You’re kind and smart, and most importantly, you’re strong. You can handle anything, I know it. Don’t let their words get to you, it’s all garbage.” 

Feathers of vermillion bring you into his embrace again as your face nestles into the crook of his neck. You mull over his words for a few moments before nodding. He’s right, you are much stronger than what the public says. And much stronger with his uplifting spiel he just gave.

Wiping underneath your eyes delicately, he grins sheepishly. “I know you wanted us to be kept a secret, but it was killing me, you know. I wasn’t able to show you off how I wanted to.”

“Really? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-” 

“It wasn’t a problem for me,” he pecks your cheek. “I wanted to do whatever you were comfortable with, so don’t apologize.” His fingers play with your own before he intertwines the two, averting his gaze rather shyly. “You know I’d do anything for you, (Y/N).”

You grin softly. His words are tender and they hold meaning, a promise, and they make you say what you were thinking this whole time.

“I love you, Keigo.”

His lined eyes widen before you feel his lips on yours, gentle and passionate like you’d disappear, savoring the moment forever on his tongue. He pulls back a millimeter, just enough to whisper into your teeth, “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

The lower ranks of heroes is a place that’s a lot more comfortable than being in the limelight among the top. You’re free to live day to day away from reporters and scandals and allowed to have a lot more spare time. There’s room for mistakes, room to breathe, yet for some stupid reason Hawks was the only person who couldn’t leave you the hell alone. 

You aren’t sure if his brain is actually that of a bird or he genuinely enjoys annoying the shit out of you, but regardless of why he does it, it’s torture. Of course he’s not bad to look at, but holy hell is he one arrogant bastard. You would think that being in the public eye would lead to having more of a humble personality to appeal to ratings or whatever, but that just isn’t Hawks. 

How he found you is a mystery as well. Surely you and him have hardly been in the same room together let alone even properly introduced so there’s no way he’s doing this as friendly banter or the likes. As far as you’re aware of, he does it simply because he wants to and that’s infuriating.

You do remember, though, the first time you did meet. One of his colleagues in the top ten, Rumi Usagiyama, happens to be one of your close friends. She’s a few years older than you but you get along with her more than those your own age and you consider her like your sister. Strong, wise, and beautiful, she’s everything you aspire to be and a great role model so obviously you could trust her judgment on people. 

At least you thought so... until Hawks made a pass at you within the first hour of conversation. Rumi vouches for him any time you complain about his multiple advances, saying that he’s a great guy with a pure heart but he’s clearly not that innocent! Just how well does she know him, anyway? You pray to god she didn’t sleep with him because she can not only do so much better, but she’s worth more than a one night stand and so are you. That’s precisely why each time you shut him down without fail. 

You rub the satin fabric of your dress between your fingers nervously. Rumi forgot to mention the fact that this is a very luxurious event for all kinds of heroes, but she invited you as her plus one knowing that you wouldn’t come alone. Parties and socializing aren’t really that exciting for you though if she wants you there, you’ll be by her side for the evening. Clearly that sentiment didn’t go both ways because she’s across the floor dancing her tail off while you’re at the desserts table ogling the pastries. You’d need a lot more liquor to feed your confidence and it looks like she got a head start.

Another shot of tequila runs down your gullet and burns deliciously, and perhaps you’ve had a little too much because it’s starting to taste like water. That’s bad. Regardless, you feel sparks going through your veins at lightning speed, filling you up to the brim with a combination of relaxation and euphoria, and a desperate urge to go to the bathroom. You haul up the train of your expensive dress because even though you’re tipsy, there’s no way in hell you’re ruining it on the floor; who knows if someone’s pissed on the tile. 

Splashing a bit of cold water on your neck should help you feel less feverish from the alcohol. You’re not exactly drunk but you’re definitely not sober, more like in the middle where you can still recognize the people around you and walk correctly but still being able to get the affects. The heels are absolutely killing you, though. 

“There’s my little turtle dove!” 

That chipper tone and velvet voice aren’t doing you any favors and your face grows hot when you turn around to a smiling Hawks. He was doing amazing at keeping his distance until now! 

“Don’t call me that,” you glare. When you go to swerve around him, he catches you in his grasp and pins you against the wall. You can only blame your slowed reaction time because otherwise you would have dodged. His pupils are blown wide as he takes you in, probably intoxicated like yourself, but you don’t smell liquor on his breath. He doesn’t touch you anywhere, in fact, he’s not even stopping you from escaping, but the rich smell of his cologne and his alluring gaze keep you rooted in your spot. 

“What’d you want me to call you, then?”

“By my name, maybe. If you even know it.”

“Of course I do,” he grins. “(Y/n).” He repeats it as if he’s trying to secure it to his memory. Even you have to admit it does sound tasty coming through his lips. There are plenty of other heroes that look like models around and he can probably sink his teeth into them if he wanted to, yet here he is. You’re fed up with this little game of his.

“Do you get off by annoying me, Hawks?”

“Keigo,” he mumbles, totally ignoring the question.

“What?”

He grins. “That’s my name. Anyway, I get off by a lot of things. Annoying you may or may not be one of them, but I can say that when I am getting off, I’m thinking of you.”

Your hand slaps across his cheek before you can even realize that you’ve done it. You almost feel guilty but this man has no shame, does he? A delightful shiver trails through your core and you refuse to acknowledge it as his eyes glaze over and glower at you with hunger.

“You’re disgusting! How many times do I need to tell you-!”

Hawks pushes his mouth onto yours and like chocolate left in a hot car, you melt all around him. Your arms envelop him until his body is hiked up against yours and his knee is nestling between your leg to hold you steady. His warm tongue prods your bottom lip and his teeth take over, tugging the flesh harshly before suckling it. A soft moan escapes you and moments later you come to your senses and jerk away. 

You’re breathing heavy and his forehead rests on yours while you have trouble understanding what it is you really want. On one hand, the kiss was sexy. Just oozing with lust and desire and on the other, this man is a pig! A pig that you’re allowing to touch you and kiss you when he’s done this to multiple women! You deserve better, you want better, but at the same time...you undoubtedly want him to devour you.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers. “You have no idea...no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

You’re stunned into silence at the confession. His amber eyes gleam at you and they are the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. “Just my type.”

“I’m sure everybody is your type,” you remark, your tone filled with what you want to be a stab at his character, yet it just comes out as a flippant way to disregard his praise. 

“You got me all wrong,” he protests. It’s odd; he sounds like he’s really trying to be convincing. “You know, at first I thought you were just a fling-“ you roll your eyes but he thumbs your lips. “But you’re so much more than that. You have a strong spirit, charisma. You got my attention without even trying and if I’m being honest here, I want you all to myself.”

Alright. That is really not what you expected from Hawks and it caused your stomach to fill up with butterflies. A part of you- well, a huge part of you- wants to believe him because it’s been a while since someone has been so sincere and sweet. Now that you think about it, you haven’t seen him chat up any other woman like he does with you. There’s no charming smile, no ruffling his hands through his hair, no preening his feathers when they walk by. Almost as if he wants to capture your gaze by turning into his best version of himself but you still aren’t convinced.

“You say that to every girl you wanna hook up with?” 

He shakes his head earnestly and clicks his tongue, becoming agitated that you’re not understanding him at all. A quick glance around and he tugs you further into the corridor where it’s dark and secluded. Nobody bothers to go that far back and they’re all distracted anyway. Hawks must mean business. 

“What do I need to do to prove it?” His tongue slides across your neck, beneath your ear. “You want me to get on my knees and beg? ‘Cause I will.”

You gasp when his hand weaves into the crevice between your thighs, flipping the length of your dress over his arm and drops to the floor. The cheek you smacked now nuzzles into the flesh and his hair tickles your skin. God , you’re practically dripping and he can probably sense that, but he lazily fingers the hem of the lace thong Rumi insisted you wear because panty lines can make any designer gown look cheap. He gives a languid swipe of his tongue across the fabric, right above where you need it the most and you could pull out your scalp with how slow he’s going.

“If you want me that bad, then for fuck’s sake go for it,” you snarl, hooking your leg over his shoulder and he grins triumphantly up at you before his face disappears completely. The thong is tugged down to your ankles and his mouth- god damn that wonderful mouth- latches onto your clit. With little kitten licks, he really knows what he’s doing and that thought only reminds you that this man has been who knows where and with who. And if Rumi were to ever find out you’d never hear the end of it. Being eaten out by a womanizer you swore you’d never give the time of day wearing Dior. Your inebriated state should help your case a tiny bit but how what excuse would you give yourself tomorrow? 

“Ahh~ haah~,” you can’t even control yourself at this point. Your eyes are screwed shut, jaw slack, panting like a dog in heat. “Yes, yes oh god yes!”

A gutteral grown reverberates into the sensitive nub and you grind onto his face to catch every bit of it. He doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest and holds you in place by your hips. Your head lolls against the wall and you can’t stop yourself from clutching onto the honey strands of his hair. He continues to grunt and sigh, his breath chilling the flesh of your cunt before being warmed by his mouth again. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” 

A long drawn out whine might as well have pulled what little dignity you had left along with your orgasm, as the tingles in your pelvis spread out and develop into shudders that leave your body trembling and weak. You can’t even begin to comprehend what just happened let alone form a sentence, not one thought other than how wonderful Hawks is as giving head. 

He has the courtesy to pull up your underwear on his way to his feet and you’re actually incredibly embarrassed to meet his eyes. It’d be weird to give thanks, wouldn’t it? 

Hawks shoots you a lopsided smile and pecks your cheek lovingly. “You trust me now?”

Trust would be pushing it, but maybe..just maybe… “I’d be willing to give you a chance.” 

He pumps his fist and before he can shout for joy, you hold a finger to his nose. “But just one. And if you waste my time, I’m gonna be uber pissed.” 

“That’s all I’m asking for.” He swipes his thumb across his lips and pops it into his mouth. Your face flushes. “So...do you wanna go on a date with me?”

You roll your eyes and straighten yourself out. Smooth out your dress, your hair, and fix his tie before you face the crowd of friends wondering where the pair of you wandered off to. “You know, normal people usually ask that before getting to third base.” 

“Oh, I’m not familiar with baseball.” 

Chapter Text

Staring at the bundle of fur curled up in your bed, you smile to yourself. Yes, pets of any kind are most certainly not allowed in your apartment complex but the tuxedo cat was freezing in the middle of winter. The original plan was to just feed him, warm him up with the hairdryer, and let him rest. Now that you see him all comfy on your sheets, you have second thoughts. Handing him away to a shelter just doesn’t sit well with you, and you do grow rather attached to animals quickly. You even gave a name to the neighborhood squirrel that ate pecans out of your hand when you were little. 

When you scratch in between his ears, he begins to purr like a motorboat and you giggle. He smells nice and clean from his bath, freshly brushed and groomed with his nails clipped. You really went all out when you first brought him in. Thankfully, it was late at night when you found him so the landlord was asleep, and you were able to sneak him inside. A week later, the holiday vacation gracefully given by your job is over. Hopefully Sylvester would be okay by himself and not shit all over your carpet, but you’ll find out when you return. 

After locking the door, you see the cute neighbor you’ve had your eye on ever since he moved in next door. With muted indigo hair and a stone-faced, near exhausted expression, he seemed a little out of the ordinary at first but always polite to you during your interactions. 

He casually strides toward the elevator while he types on his cellphone, meeting your curious gaze when you join him. 

“Good morning, (L/N)-san,” he says through a yawn, then apologizes in a mutter.

“Good morning, Shinsou-kun. Late night again?”

“Yeah, it always is.”

You don’t know that much about the guy; just enough to identify him in a police lineup if the situation should arise. His personality is still a mystery to you, and his occupation description he gave you only stated the bare minimum: gaming. When the elevator dings, you depart first after waving goodbye with a smile. 

Shinsou has never been good with people. He liked plants and animals, his one best friend that he met in high school, Midoriya, and video games. Of course, he had online friends that he played with and his fellow Twitch streamers, but he didn’t actually interact with them face to face. When you first moved in one door down, his initial thought was, and still is, that you’re incredibly cute. His old neighbor was rowdy and irresponsible, constantly flooding out his apartment and causing stove top fires because he was a total moron. You’re not exactly the quiet type either, but he doesn’t mind it one bit when you come back at 3 AM, drunk and giggling with other girls before slamming your door shut. He’s almost always awake at that hour anyway. The fact of the matter is that you’re simply too cute. You’re bubbly, energetic, filled with charisma that catches everyone’s attention and he’s one of the many that don’t stand a chance. You make him wish that he had the confidence and appeal he didn’t care for. 

During the day is when he normally makes up for the lack of sleep and rests until the evening, but his laundry is piling up and he really wants a matcha latte. He forced himself to play up his looks a little bit in case he saw you in spite of the tired fog begging him to just shut his eyes and forget about leaving the house, but he’s thankful he did. 

On his way back from the laundry mat, he moves his ivy and fern pots to the balcony so they can get some sunlight. It’s a surprisingly sunny day in Tokyo, a pleasant change from the gloomy weather and he stares out onto the skyline. He’s lucky that he could afford a place as nice as this, with a pretty view and an adorable neighbor who he ends up thinking about nonstop. He sighs, telling himself I don’t think you have the facilities for that, big man when he conjures up the idea of being in a relationship with you. What would he even have to offer, his limited edition controller skins? His Overwatch collectables? Honestly speaking, if you did ask for them he would hand them over no doubt. 

A low, demanding meow calls from his left and he jumps when a puddle of black and white fur moseys over to him on the railing. In a haste, he picks him up, scared that the cat will fall to its demise, and brings him inside. A cat really shouldn’t be anywhere near the apartment; the landlord made it pretty clear that pets weren’t allowed and Shinsou was really peeved off about it. Regardless, he inspects the feline closely for any signs of malnourishment or neglect, but it seems well-fed. What he doesn’t notice until he places him onto the floor is that he’s carrying luggage! Red panties- lace! Red! Panties! Where the hell did he get those from?

“Oh, geez, what the hell- hey!” When he reaches to grab the undergarment from its mouth, he scurries off underneath the couch. Shinsou groans. “Cool. I have a pervert cat and a load of laundry to fold. Lucky me.” 

Arriving home from a long day, what you really need is a nice hot bath, some wine, and a cuddle with your kitten. You expect to see him perched on the kitchen counter waiting patiently for your return, but after searching the house and making “thththth” noises to lure him out to you, he’s nowhere to be found. Now you’re worried. Cats land on their feet no matter what, but from the tenth floor? You don’t want to find out. You pace back and forth in your bedroom, chewing on your bottom lip before deciding to take action in the best way you know how.

“Hiya,” you chirp anxiously, twiddling your thumbs in front of Shinsou, who stares at you with anticipation. He looks jittery like he’s seen a ghost. “So, hear me out. If I hypothetically had a pet, say...a cat. Male, with a white mustache and paws and black fur, would you maybe have seen him anywhere?”

His indigo eyes widen slightly and his entire face, from his nose to his ears, go red. He coughs awkwardly. “Um, yeah...he, uh, he’s inside.” 

You squeeze past and ignore the anxious tension coming off of him and instead make a beeline towards his living room, glancing to and fro until you spy a pair of black ears. You reach behind the sofa and pull him out by the bastards scruff before hooking your hands underneath his arms. 

You smile widely and sigh in relief, “I can’t thank you enough for finding him. I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, and I know we aren’t allowed to have pets but please don’t tell my landlord! I found him outside and it’s way too cold out and I couldn’t just let him starve to death-”

“(L/n)-san,” he grimaces, pointing at your cat and you follow his line of sight. Hanging from his mouth, your special occasion panties that were supposed to be hidden deep in your underwear drawer. Sylvester gives you an agitated meow and wiggles out of your grasp, while you’re too stiff and embarrassed to move. He drops the panties to the floor and you and Shinsou just stand in place, looking anywhere but at each other. 

Shinsou doesn’t know what to do. It’s bad enough that he can barely keep up small talk, but seeing the girl he likes in shock because he saw her freaking panties is something he definitely isn’t prepared for. Does he apologize? Should he make a bad joke? Should he just let you see yourself out? He doesn’t have a clue. 

“Thanks for taking care of him,” you blurt out. “Sorry again for the inconvenience.”
“Uh- any time. I didn’t mind. I-I mean, not to be weird or anything, I just-”

You scoop up Sylvester and bolt out the door again, and he stands dumbfounded in the center of his apartment. The faint scent of your perfume, traces of cat hair on his sofa and rug, and your panties. Forgotten on the hardwood floor. 

A few days have passed since the Shinsou incident. You’ve been avoiding seeing him in the hallway, during his routine hours of departing for work and you don’t even know what the big deal is. Yeah, it’s just underwear. What’s the difference between a lacey pink thong and some briefs? They’re practically in different worlds. But it’s just underwear. Something intimate, personal, and most importantly none of anyone’s business! Your face flushes with color and warmth all over again and it’s not from the rice cooker you’re hovering over. Shinsou saw your freaking stupid panties, you tell yourself, big whoop. 

A soft knock on the door brings you out of your trance of persuasion and without a second thought you go to answer it. It’s probably a delivery for those new Cinnamoroll plushies you ordered anyway. You don’t expect to see Shinsou again. You didn’t want to see him for a very long time, yet he’s here in all his glory holding a paper bag. Slyvester meows and rubs his cheek against your leg. The bastard; you still hadn’t forgiven the guy for all the trouble he’s caused.

“So this,” he holds up the bag, “is what’s left of your undergarments. I didn’t realize he’d torn it to shreds but I figured you’d want it back.”

You sigh. As if this couldn’t get any worse. This fool went ahead and touched them with his beautiful veiny gamer hands.

“And I know you’re probably thinking why I would put them in a bag and return them when I could’ve thrown them out, so I’m gonna respond by saying that it gave me a chance to see you.” He arches a purple brow. “Y’know, since you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t...I’ve just been busy,” you chuckle, brushing your hair behind your ears.

“Sure, sure. Anyway, I was hoping I could’ve taken you out on a date before I got to see these, but your little friend tripped me out.”

You blink. “A... what ?”

“Like dinner, a movie. Whatever you wanna do but I pay for it, basically. Typically people hold hands, kiss and whatnot. It’s so that we can get to know each other-”

“I know what a date is!” You scoff. 

He shrugs. “Sounded like you didn’t.”

You bite your tongue before you can offer a retort to match his own sarcasm. Here is Shinsou, a really sweet and kind guy who went through all the trouble of packaging your undies and kept the secret of your new addition. You really aren’t in a position to be snarky, like, at all. Most importantly, you like him. From his eyebags, shaggy clothes and blunt character to his lopsided quirky smile that he’s giving you right now.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Thank you, though. It’s sort of thoughtful that you went out of your way to do this for me.”

“No trouble at all. See you.”

With one last exchange of smiles, he saunters down the hallway and you shut the door behind you. You glare daggers at Sylvester, the pesky asshole who you saved from withering away in the snow, and he blinks up at you with love. As much as you want to be angry with him, you can’t fathom the animosity. He could shit on your carpet and you’d spend an hour cleaning the stain, muttering curses but he’d still get catnip all the same. Possibly a new toy if you’re feeling extra generous. Regardless of his actions, he did manage to bring you and the beautiful neighbor together, albeit in his weird and pervy way. 

Chapter Text

Hawks has seldom seen you since the break up. Frankly, he’s just been occupying himself with hero work and it keeps his mind from wandering about your whereabouts. The busier he is, the less temptation he gets from trying to pay you a cordial visit just to check up on you. It doesn’t prevent him from thinking about you nonstop, though. Despite ending things, he can’t help but feel like there was no closure. You said your goodbyes and left his apartment with no tears, but you were never much of a crier anyway. He doesn’t know why he wanted you to burst out sobbing but at least it would’ve shown that you felt the heartbreak too. There’s so much that he wants to say but something pulls him back and tells him to look at the facts; his line of work is far too dangerous for you to be involved in.
You, on the other hand, have been in a constant state of numbness. The minute he suggested that it might be better to break up, you went blank. Your expression, your mind, your body. Everything was empty. Whether it was a protective response or just your way of coping, you hate that you acted like that and you hate that you agreed with him instead of fighting for the relationship. After all, two years together is a long time to just toss aside like nothing. Your clothes that piled up at his place still sit there, knowing that Hawks doesn’t have the heart to get rid of them. Your shampoo and conditioner, your perfume and hair brush. Little reminders that you were once in his life, and you hope it eats him away. Maybe you do feel something other than numbness, because you feel angry more than anything. Sad, hurt, and abandoned by the person you love most.
He’s perched on a building near a hustling intersection, keeping an eye out for any signs of trouble. When Endeavor, of all people, told him to take it easy for the day he thought the old man was crazy. But now he kind of feels like a load has been lifted from his shoulders and he can breathe a little bit. There isn’t much going on besides loud traffic and the large crowds of pedestrians walking to their day jobs, but he’s honestly surprised to see you standing at a crosswalk.
You stare at the stop light with your hands in your hoodie. He can’t tear his eyes from your figure and the months apart really did take a toll on him- more than he’d like to admit. He misses you dearly.
You’re unaware of your surroundings and the onset of cars whirring past you, and there’s a tug deep within that makes you walk onto the street. You don’t notice the light barely turning green, nor the sedan that’s speeding right towards you. There’s the obnoxious honk of a horn and you glance sideways, your heavy and groggy eyes widening with pure fear. Just when the impact is about to strike, you close them tightly and wait, yet nothing happens. The slapping of wind across your face brings you back to reality and there’s a change of scenery, one you’re familiar with. For the first time in a while, you feel safe and cherished and you don’t want it to end.
He sets you down gently on a rooftop, his hands lingering by your waist and he expects you to swat him away, but you don’t. You stand there as your bottom lip trembles faintly.
He didn’t notice from afar, but up close you look like a wreck. There’s redness around the hollows of your eyes and you just seem so tired, drained even. Your body is frail beneath his touch and he wonders if you’ve been taking care of yourself, even when he hasn’t done the same.
“I...I didn’t…see the light,” you mumble honestly. You don’t meet his gaze and stare at the horizon. “Thanks.”
“Pay attention next time,” he scolds lightly. “Please. You scared the shit out of me.”
Before you’re about to apologize out of habit, you blink up at him and your eyes narrow, stepping out of his embrace and your horrified trance. “Why do you care? I said thanks. You can go now. I know how busy you must be.”
You glare at a spot off in the distance and his lips form a tight line. Your tone holds leftover bitterness and he can’t say he blames you for being mad. Of course you are. Who would be happy if their boyfriend decided he couldn’t make time for you? Hero work is overwhelming and tedious, but he couldn’t keep handing you that excuse. Then again, he didn’t bother seeing your point of view nor realize that maybe you don’t mind.
It really sounds like you don’t want him to leave, though. Your arms wrap around your midsection, shielding yourself from him in a way but he can see right through you.
“You know you deserve better than that, (Y/N). I couldn’t do that to you,” he says quietly. He shoves his hand in his pocket and the other runs through his wind-blown waves.
“If you cared about how I felt at all, you would’ve asked me. You wouldn’t have just decided what was best for me when you didn’t know what I wanted,” you snarl.
“So you’re saying you would have been happy being with a guy who’s there half the time? Missing anniversaries, birthdays? What kinda life is that, (Y/N)?” His voice falters and his brows knit together. You stare, jaw hanging, with your throat burning with the threat to cry.
“It would’ve been wonderful,” you swallow it down, “because I love you. I know you’re always trying to play hero, but maybe not everyone needs your help.”
Your words linger in the air and he has difficulty understanding. Being a hero, that’s all he does. If people are struggling, what kind of person would he be if he left them alone, ignoring their troubles? It confused him to think about because that’s all he’s known, doing so as if it’s second nature. One thing that he can’t help but dwell on is…
“You said you love me,” he repeats simply.
You roll your eyes and scoff, “I’m supposed to feel nothing after two years together? Maybe you do. That’s probably why you dumped me so unexpectedly because you’re an inconsiderate jerk-!”
His lips mold onto yours and for a split second you enjoy the feeling of familiarity; even after so much time has passed you still fit into his chest perfectly, and you want to so badly to just melt into the warmth and caress of his wings. But you’d be disrespecting yourself if you gave in that easily.
You press your hands against his chest and push away. “You’re gonna hurt me, Kei.”

His golden eyes plead and his brows furrowed as he sighs, “I made so many mistakes. You used to say I’m too hard on myself, but I don’t think I am. ‘Cause if I was, I wouldn’t have been so stupid to let you go in the first place, y’know.” You blink at him with your mind racing to say something, anything, to cause him the same amount of pain that he caused you, yet he looked so broken already. What’s worse is that the sadness, disappointment and desperation written all over his face ripped your heart to shreds and the urge to reassure him came forward.
“I know I hurt you, and it might take some time for us to go back to normal, but…,” he shrugs, “maybe we can be friends? Start slow? I don’t know. I want you in my life, (Y/N). I can’t stand it.”
You mull over it for a while. You slide down onto the concrete and cross your legs. You’ve wanted to hear those words for a while but it just doesn’t process in your mind. He joins you on the ground and ruffles his wings, fluffing them out so they hide a bit of his frame. He’s nervous at your silence.
“I don’t wanna be your friend,” you huff indignantly. There’s no way you could go back to square one again, when he’s known you better than anyone else. At your best and your worst, there’s no one else you’d rather have next to you than Hawks. He peers at you perplexed.
“Tell me that you love me,” you demand softly, crawling closer until your noses are within an inch of the other. He reaches out for your cheek, rubbing a thumb over the soft flesh and you see it- a glow of warmth and passion in his golden honey eyes. You allow yourself to get lost in them, fighting your inner self who claims that this man means no good, but in this moment in time, he’s yours again.
“I love you.”