(repost From Old Blog!!)

(repost from old blog!!)

imagine being katsuki bakugou's classical musician gf! [pt. 1]

he's in the hero course and you're in the general studies course. that doesn't stop you from pursuing your professional musical dreams.

as a musician, you find yourself to be very organized. that is until the time comes to actually get to music club on time.

you two met in the hallways of ua. you were sprinting down the hall, arms hugging sheets of marked up music, with an instrument case slung on your back. simultaneously, you tried to mentally rehearse the solo piece assigned to you at the last rehearsal. as your eyes focus on the scratched markings of accidentals and rhythm on your sheet music, you suddenly ram into a stiff blonde, trying to make his way back to the dorms. your sheets go flying everywhere and you panic. you drop to your knees, scrambling to pick up each sheet. bakugou simply "tch's" and begins to turn around. however, there's also music right below his feet. he notices it's sheet music and rather than kicking it back, he picks it up, turns around, and reaches it out towards you, without daring to turn his head to look at you.

you don't notice this gesture and snatch the piece right out of his hands. without uttering even a "thank you" you finally collect all the sheets and run off. bakugou simply watches you run off into the hallway, mouth slightly agape.

"huh." he thinks to himself.

so as you play your little solo in the music room on the other side of the ua building, there sits bakugo in his dorm room, staring at the ceiling. headphones on. listening to that piece, curious to know more.

this is a little tiny bit ooc um

not proofread lolll i had this idea during my music lesson

thanks guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

006. PICK ONE

PUSH AND PULL masterlist 〣 mha masterlist

👉🏼 what's today's mood?

NOTES⭑.ᐟ

⤹ izuku was always the first one to spot every interaction y/n had with bakugou and sero while they were backstage yesterday

⤹ hitoshi is lowkey would rather that y/n end up with sero than bakugou (if ever)

⤹ izuku is 100% a bakugou stan

⤹ shoto is way more curious about S than y/n is

⤹ every playlist that S sends to y/n, he's the artist behind the playlist covers! it's one of his hobbies other than being a music geek

PUSH AND PULL

➢ for a while now, she's had feelings for the online friend she met months ago through similar preferences in music. they get along well, and he seems to take interest in her too. until she caught the attention of her favorite band's drummer, katsuki bakugou. who would be the victor of her heart in the end?

➢ taglist: open!!

@kovu-bunnbunn @loveelylacey @ac333s @sepptember @iloveroblox48

@captainshindo @sweetadonisbutbetter @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @sourbbyxo @arivsx

@lixie-phoria @whenanafallsinlove @augustraine @chuugarettes @morganadorodo

@junehasnotbeenfound @the-hangry-otter @mylahrins @kawaii-angelanne @ukiyoeangel

@nymphsdomain @sc1twi @brbwritingfanfic @marsbars09 @ivydoesit23

@icarusthefoolish @lainlovelain @miliondollagirl @tojirin @circuskatt

@annepamgkrth @sixxze @ashyiiy @dizzydreamerz @hiimsaraandyou

@siraxealot @brithedemonspawn @centerhabit @coolgirl458 @h0neybunni

@cupkiki @earth2vi @sara4uuu @spooky-cupid @whosmiadotcom

@gina239 @mercy0000 @wheezdostuff @ipoopedmypants47 @lalloronaisreal

hey. are you alive?

your heavy eyes stared up at the ceiling of your dorm room. there you lay in bed and it was too hot and too cold. half of your body was absolutely surrounded in your pillows and blankets, while the other half was sweating.

you undoubtedly had a cold.

you also had a major test that you spent all night studying for.

karma, i guess?

so there you were, laying flat, while trying to use your phone to call one of your classmates. you just needed at least one of them to answer so they could let mr. aizawa know you weren't going to make it to the exam.

'god, why today of all days' you thought.

scrolling through your contacts, you eventually landed on kirishima's. no way your own boyfriend wouldn't answer your call.

but you also knew he was probably doing some early morning training. so you decided to leave him a couple of texts.

you: kiri im sick :(

you: can you tell aizawa so he doesnt try to kill me when i show up again

you: whenever i show up again

you: if i show up again D:

you turned off your phone and rolled onto your side. a couple minutes later, you heard a buzz from your phone, but you couldn't muster the energy to roll over again to check who it was.

a couple more minutes later, you heard a gentle knock on your door. you couldn't even bring yourself to get up, so you groaned loudly in reply, hoping whoever it was would try coming in.

you hear the doorknob twisting and the door softly creaking open. you hear some shuffling footsteps and the sound of a plastic bag in someone's hands.

"hi." the mystery person says.

you could recognize that voice anywhere.

"...i am here to be your nurse."

'god, he's such a derp' you thought before bringing your torso up from your bed to see,

"KIRI!" you exclaim.

"hi baby." he says, smiling brightly at you. he points at the plastic bag in his hands.

"i brought you some medicine and porridge." kirishima sets it down at a table before going towards your bed.

"oh, don't touch me, i'm all sick, haha." you say, putting your hands up, waving them defensively.

kirishima gently grabs your wrists, "it's okay."

he puts your wrist down before going to the plastic bag to get something. you flop back down onto your mattress and exhale deeply.

a couple minutes go by, kirishima is still fumbling around in the plastic bag, and you're still lying down in silence.

"hey. are you alive? you haven't said a peep!" kirishima teases, before walking back around to your bed. he was holding a damp cloth. he brought one of his hands to your back, helping you up. his hand rests on your back as he hands you the cloth. you bring it up to your forehead.

"wait. is it too hot or too cold, or should i-" kirishima panics.

"it's perfect." you respond, a soft smile on your face. a blush creeps up onto kirishima's face before he quickly turns around.

"LET ME GET YOU THAT PORRIDGE BEFORE IT GETS COLD" he exclaims.

you noticed the awkwardness in his voice and your eyes scanned the room in a somewhat confusion.

you chuckle to yourself before bringing the washcloth down, somewhat in shame.

"this is humiliating." you say in disappointment. here you were, being a nuisance to your boyfriend, when you knew that there was a still a big exam that he could be preparing for.

kirishima swiftly turned around, bowl of porridge in hand, and walked back up to your side.

"um excuse me." kirishima started "there is nothing humiliating about needing a little help. also, you're sick! it's only the manly thing for me to help my beautiful girlfriend."

he brought a spoonful of porridge up to your mouth, and you, in defeat, opened your mouth. kirishima fed you the porridge until the bowl was empty. he whispered little affirmations like "good job" "there you go" as you ate.

you then asked, "so you're not mad at me?"

kirishima looked at you in confusion.

"mad at you? my girlfriend? mad at my girlfriend for being sick?"

kirishima set the bowl down on your bedside table before sitting down on his knees beside your bed.

"you're sick. that's not your fault. im just here to take care of you. okay?"

you huff. "okay" you gently replied.

kirishima got up, giving you a forehead kiss.

"now, as much as i'd love to be your little nurse all day, i still have a test to take."

you smile up at him.

"mmkay. i'll be waiting for you." you say.

"just rest for me." kirishima says, before walking out your dorm, shutting the door behind him.

your heavy-lidded eyes soon shut, feeling relaxed. you take a nice nap, waiting for your lovely boyfriend to return.

-

when you wake up, your eyes are met to kirishima, leaning his head on your bed, asleep! he was knelt down by your bedside, arms folded acting like a cushion for his head.

you brush his bright red locks out of his eyes and stare lovingly back.

his eyes flutter open.

"hi again," you say.

me when sick y/n needs her manly bf to take care of her (>'-'<)

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.

It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight. 

Whatever.

No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants. 

The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.

This is the life. 

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week. 

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once. 

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone. 

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly. 

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying. 

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger. 

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage. 

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table. 

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven. 

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters". 

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of. 

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers. 

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot. 

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can. 

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really. 

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks. 

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered. 

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?" 

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute. 

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony. 

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan. 

He's trying to figure out the best way up. 

How he even got up here is news to you. 

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second. 

Then, he settles on his plan. 

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution. 

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought. 

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin. 

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks. 

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up. 

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony. 

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight. 

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail. 

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you. 

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat. 

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating. 

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy. 

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony. 

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?" 

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge. 

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact. 

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot. 

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle. 

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong." 

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his. 

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this. 

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn. 

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello. 

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony. 

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan. 

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner." 

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

ᴛʜᴇ "ᴍᴇʀᴇ ᴇxᴘᴏꜱᴜʀᴇ" ᴇꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛ!

002 .. ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴀᴛ ᴍɪɴᴀ'ꜱ!

synopsis: psychology major y/n l/n finds herself in the same apartment building as her months-long crush, hitoshi shinso, when he moves in with mutual friends. what happens when classes start and the two psychology students are partnered together for a semester-long project which will decide whether they pass the term?

note: substance use (marijuana and alcohol), the pictures used don't all match my face claims for the characters! so use ur imagination. anyways, here's chap 2 after weeks lol

the "mere exposure" effect! masterlist.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @wheezdostuff @miyamoratsumuu @rueclfer @whenanafallsinlove @hanmastattoos

@kingexplosionmurda @the-hangry-otter @cuupidsss @ofherchaos @sunolls

@happiness2014 @kovu-bunnbunn @seneon @hotwomanlythings @adoresoapy

@h3artz4soph @nanaanatiion @matrixriot