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fragile hearts.

bakugo katsuki x f!reader

angst, hurt and comfort. happy ending.

aftermath of the screaming competition you’ve had with your boyfriend last night.

Synopsis: You and Bakugo were dating for years already but having a romantic relationship with him doesn’t mean that he’s less meaner to you. Yesterday, he was really tired from training and overworked. When you tried to take care of him, he snapped and said hurtful things for the nth time. This has been happening over and over already.

You were laying down on the bed while scrolling on your phone. Him, on the other hand, is busy with his computer, playing a game and acting unbothered. Both of you refusing to talk to each other.

You heard him sigh to himself. His focus shifts ever so often during his match as he sneaks a glance at you from his peripheral vision. He knows he snapped at you yesterday, but at the same time he was frustrated and tired after having practiced the same move over and over for hours on end. That was no excuse to snap at you, of course, but he’d never admit that. But even while feeling a pang of guilt in his chest, Bakugo keeps his mouth shut and continues to watch his match.

The game comes to a pause and he looks over again at you. The guilt starts to eat at him more as he thinks about what he said to you yesterday. He feels the urge to say something, but his ego and pride holds him back from doing so. He sighs to himself again before deciding to talk to you.

“Hey.”

You didn’t, however, said anything and just keeps scrolling on your phone. That made him want to approach you, thus he sits on the bed right where you are and gives you a sidelong glance. Seeing you scrolling on your phone and looking like you don’t want to talk to him, you heard him sigh to himself again.

“Hey, can we talk?”

You just took a quick glance at him, “About what?”

It’s not like you really don’t know what he wants. He didn’t fail to notice how you respond curtly. He doesn’t know if it’s because you’re still mad at him or not, but he chooses his next words carefully. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s being defensive towards you.

“I want to talk about yesterday… because I know I got a little heated and… said some things I shouldn’t have said to you.”

He keeps his eyes on you, trying to read your expression to gauge what you’re thinking. He is honestly pretty worried that you’d give him a negative response… and quite honestly, that you’d just ignore him and not talk to him at all, which he honestly thinks he deserves but still doesn’t want to happen.

“I just… need to get my head focused and I kinda lost my cool,” he says quietly as he struggles with his words. Bakugo isn’t good with verbal emotions but he really wanted to express himself to you without saying the wrong things.

“It’s fine. I apologize for bothering you, too. Sorry, I’ll let you focus now,” you muttered.

“Is that it?”

You didn’t fail to notice the frustration in his face as he said that. He wasn’t sure if it’s because you’re not even remotely forgiving to him and you’re just going to disregard his attempt at trying to talk to you… or if you’re not interested in talking at all. Either of those two things makes him extremely frustrated as his ego is telling him to just ignore it, but his heart is telling him to keep going.

He furrows his eyebrows and grits his teeth while holding back the urge to get snappy with you. He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists… thinking carefully on what to say next.

“No… I don’t… I can’t just…” he pauses and looks at you for a second before he grabs your wrist, “…Don’t just say ‘it’s fine’ and brush it aside.”

He moves closer to you and looks you in the eyes. He is really trying hard to get you to say something more than just ‘it’s fine’ right now. He needs you to say something… anything. He doesn’t like this kind of tension between you two, especially since he is the reason for it.

He tightens his grip on your wrist slightly before continuing to speak. This clearly shows how frustrated, worried, panicked, and guilty he is with the whole situation.

“Please… talk to me. Don’t act like you’re just okay with it because I know you’re not.”

You were looking down, trying to act fine when it really wasn't, “It’s fine, Katsuki. Really,” you said in a low voice so he wouldn't notice your voice shaking.

He scoffs with frustration at you. He hates how you keep just saying the same thing over and over, as if you can’t even be honest with him. This whole situation is really testing his patience.

“No, it’s not fine. You won’t even talk to me!”

He says while gritting his teeth and furrowing his brows. He is trying really hard to not lash out at you, but you’re really pushing his buttons right now.

You scoff and almost rolled your eyes as you heard him. You recalled what exactly he said yesterday when he snapped at you, you were just doing what he wanted and now he’s still gonna snap at you for doing that? Shouldn’t he be happy?

“I’m just not meddling with your business.”

He lets go of your wrist as he leans back and runs his hand through his hair as he tries to rein in his frustration. He is honestly getting to the boiling point at this point because you are not saying what he wants to hear.

“You’re not gonna mess with my business? You’ve always meddled in my business,” he says dryly. He can’t even help but chuckle bitterly at how hypocritical that sounds as he feels the irony of the whole situation.

You didn’t respond. This is what happened last night, too. You know for sure he’s gonna keep going and repeat all the things he already said. Like what always happens.

He scoffs silently to himself as he looks at you, “You’ve always been around me and now all of a sudden you don’t want to meddle with my business?”

You were keeping your head on the ground, trying not to snap because you know it won’t help. And it’s his job, not yours.

“Isn't that what you wanted?”

He furrows his eyebrows as he gives you a perplexed look. He doesn’t know what you’re trying to get at, which is even more infuriating for him.

“What do you mean what I wanted? I never said I wanted you to not meddle with me,” he says in a slightly annoyed tone as he looks at you with a sharp glare.

“Yeah, that’s not what you said last night,“ you replied, getting tired of him acting like it’s not his fault why you’re acting this way.

He scoffs as he looks away, clenching his jaw. He didn’t expect you to bring that up so casually. The memories of what he said last night came rushing into his mind and honestly… he is starting to regret it.

“…That’s not what I meant… you know that.”

“It is pretty much what you meant. There’s no way you didn’t mean it one bit when you brought it up so many times.”

“Can’t you just forget that I said those things?”

Hearing that, you scoff and roll your eyes. Forget it? Just forget everything he said? How can you just forget it when everytime he snaps at you, it was the same thing he says over and over? There’s no way he didn’t mean it, right?

He can hardly reign himself in anymore. The frustration and agitation is getting the better of him. He is clenching his fists so hard now with a murderous glare in his eyes. He looks like he’s about to explode at any second from this whole situation.

“Why are you acting like this? Are you really that petty because I said some shitty things?”

He raises his voice and steps even closer to you, his eyes fixed on your face. At this point, he’s already lost his cool.

He continues, his voice is getting louder and louder as he talks.

“I told you to stop meddling in my business, so what? All of a sudden you’re acting like I told you to piss off and not talk to me anymore?!”

You scoff for the nth time this day, “I’m just minding my own life. Like you told me to.”

His grip on your shoulders tightens as his fingernails dig into your skin, it starts to hurt. The tension in the air is so thick you can cut it with a knife. He’s clenching his jaw so hard it looks like he’s about to gnaw all his teeth at this point from how strained he is because of all this.

“Katsuki.. you’re.. hurting me. Please, let go,” you said weakly, almost whispering. You closed your eyes shut as you felt his grip just tighten even more, you were already feeling his nails digging right on your skin, despite wearing a sleeve.

He just scoffs and lets out a dry, bitter laugh. He tightens his grip on your shoulders even more as he locks you in place. He continues to glare at you as he speaks with a cold and sharp tone.

“Why? You deserve it. If you’re being difficult, you should expect me to be rough back at you,” he said as if he was out of his mind.

“You’re so frustrated you don’t care if you hurt me?” you asked as if you don’t already know the answer, considering how he acts right now and whenever he’s tired and snapping at you.

“Let go, please. You were hurting me verbally.. through words.. just a day ago. And now you're.. doing it.. physically. You don’t even care anymore?” you muttered in a weak tone. You were tired and you can’t take anymore of this anymore.

He furrows his eyebrows and his grip on your shoulders tightens even more. He clearly doesn’t like you bringing that up, but he keeps his cold glare on you as he continues to respond.

“You still deserve it and should’ve seen it coming for you acting like this. After all, I gave you a way out when I told you to forget about it, but you just kept acting so damn cold.”

Your eyes just widened at his response. He’s.. not thinking clearly. I deserve him hurting me physically because I did what he wanted? Because I chose to stay out of his business like he told me to? Was it my fault?

You couldn’t take it anymore. You keep your eyes shut, preparing yourself to ask the question you never thought will cross your mind.

“Katsuki, at this point.. shouldn’t we just.. end this?”

He stops and freezes as he hears that word come from your mouth. He looks at you with his eyes wide as he feels a wave of shock go through his body.

“End this..?”

He says with a disbelieving tone. He can hardly believe the words that just came out of your mouth. With that, he lets go of your shoulder. You put a hand on it, considering how it hurts so much. He was gripping it like he intended to make you bleed.

As he lets go of your shoulders, he steps back, staring at you with a surprised and disbelieving look.

“What do you mean end this? Do you…”

He stops, the words getting stuck in his throat. It’s almost as if his mind can’t even process it.

“Do you mean end our relationship?”

He says, his voice sounding strained. His eyes are locked on your face, searching for any answers to the hundreds of questions swirling in his head right now.

You didn’t say anything, and your silence was his confirmation. He stops and stares at you. He can’t believe what you just said. It feels like someone had just suddenly ripped his heart out from his chest.

“Why…. Why do you want to end this?”

He asks, his voice hoarse and weak. He feels like he’s about to collapse from the wave of disbelief and shock that just hit him.

He steps closer to you and grabs you by the shoulders, looking at you with a desperate look. He just can’t understand what you’re thinking, and is desperately trying to cling onto anything that can salvage this whole situation.

“Can you just… can you explain why…?”

He says, his voice cracking from trying to hold back the emotions in his chest right now. You shut your eyes again. You chose to ignore the pain in his voice because you know how weak you are when it comes to him.

“I tell you what’s wrong, that you hurt me. You mock me and try to make it my fault. This just keeps happening over and over again. You don’t want to change, that’s why it’s happening again and again. It’s tiring,” you finally said, finally saying what you have been holding back out loud.

He falters as he hears you say that. His grip on you loosens as he stares at you, trying to process the words you just said.

“I…. I hurt you? Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

He can’t help but look at you, his expression now looking like a mixture of guilt, regret, and disbelief in himself. All this time, he thought you were just fine and didn’t know that he was hurting you with how he was acting.

You try not to roll your eyes as he asked that, “I did tell you! All you replied was that I deserve it!”

He stays silent at your reply. That’s right. You did tell him. He remembers now that you did, but he got so caught up in his anger that he brushed you off.

“…I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quietly. He doesn’t know how to make this better anymore, the regret of his actions now weighing heavily on his chest.

He steps even closer to you, his arms now reaching out to wrap around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. He buries his head against your shoulder, his grip on you tight and desperate as he tries to hold back the flood of emotions in his chest right now.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he finally said.

It’s as if he’s at the verge of sobbing right now. He feels so guilty and remorseful for what he’s done to you, and now it’s all crashing down on him at the thought of losing you.

You didn’t do anything as he hugs you, didn’t hug him back. You just let him.

His voice is weak and shaky as he struggles to keep it together. His body is trembling from the mixture of emotions in his chest right now as he continues to hold you tight against him.

“Please… please tell me I can fix this…” He whispers against your shoulder, his voice raw and strained as he clings onto you, desperate to hold on.

He keeps his head buried against your shoulder, his hands gripping the back of your shirt tightly. It’s clear that he is trying his best to rein in his emotions right now, but he is on the verge of breaking down due to the guilt and regret that is crushing his chest right now.

“Please…. I’ll do anything, just don’t… don’t end this,” he practically pleads with you, his voice cracking slightly from his struggle to keep it together.

That was your last straw. You sighed, knees starting to give up. You were weak. Weak when it comes to him. You can’t handle it when he shows his emotions.. his vulnerable side. You’re weak and so hopelessly in love with him.

You didn’t say anything but wrap your arms around him, hugging him back and burying your face against his chest.

The moment you hug him back, he lets out a shaky exhale of relief. It’s at this point that he lets go of the last of his self control, and just breaks down into your embrace.

His whole body trembles as he clings onto you tightly, his arms wrapping around you as he buries his head against your shoulder. His body feels like it’s collapsing at this point as all the emotions in his chest just come out.

His chest is heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, his body and mind overcome with an overwhelming tsunami of emotion.

“Please... I’m sorry... I’m so s-sorry...”

He keeps repeating it apologetically as he hugs you even tighter, his hands clenching the back of your shirt. It’s like he’s scared that if he lets go of you, you’ll just disappear and leave him forever.

“I promise... I’ll change. I’ll do anything to be b-better for you... Please, j-just.. don’t... leave me....”

It was your first time hearing him talk like that, admitting that it was his fault, and that he will change. For you. It was the first time you see him act like this. He was scared to lose you. So scared. And you don’t want to leave him either. Despite all the things that happened and what he did, you can’t help but want to be the one who stays beside him, protect him, take care of him, and love him.

“I’m.. holding you onto that,” you muttered in a soft, weak voice.

He nods vigorously against your shoulder, his arms around you hugging you even tighter. There’s a slight sense of relief in his body now after hearing that you’re not leaving.

“I will... I promise,” he says, his voice shaky and vulnerable as he holds you like he’s holding onto dear life right now. He has no plans of letting you go any time soon.

He takes a deep breath as he continues to hold you tightly in his arms. His body is still trembling slightly as he clings onto you, the whole emotional outburst leaving him feeling weak and vulnerable. He continues to bury his head against your shoulder, not wanting to let go just yet and wanting to stay like this with you for as long as possible.

Longing

◾ Being a single dad and a pro hero isn’t easy, but Bakugou manages. What he doesn’t have time for is dealing with you, his daughter’s teacher.

Bakugou x Fem!Reader »Pro Hero, Single Parent 

Warnings marked at the beginning of applicable chapters: angst, violence, 18+

◾ Chapter 1

◾ Chapter 2

◾ Chapter 3

◾ Chapter 4

◾ Chapter 4.5 

◾ Chapter 5 

◾ Chapter 6 

◾ Chapter 7

◾ Chapter 8

◾ Chapter 9

◾ Chapter 10

◾ Chapter 11

◾ Chapter 11.5 (18+)

◾ Chapter 11.75

◾ Chapter 12 

◾ Chapter 13

◾ Chapter 13.5

◾ Chapter 14

◾ Chapter 15

Taglist:

Keep reading

Longing Chapter 1

Bakugou x Fem!Reader » Pro Hero, Single Parent, Teacher Reader » Word Count: 2705

◾ A/N: The first couple chapters are a bit slow to ‘set the stage’ as it were, but I am so excited about this. This has been in the works since February and is something I hold near and dear to my heart. Now it’s ready to share with everyone! Big thanks to katsukikitten for being my beta reader and giving me inspiration when I had none little does she know I added more since she read it heheh. Being completely honest, the attention this got from posting just the masterlist scared me a bit and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!

◾ Chapter Select

Bakugou gets a call from his daughter’s elementary school.

Bakugou was mid patrol when his phone started ringing. Irritated, he looked down and saw an unknown number flashing on the screen. He begrudgingly accepted the call.

“Hello is this Mr. Bakugou?” a tinny voice asked on the other end of the line. Bakugou was on alert now. How someone got his personal number was beyond him. He knew there were crazy stalker fans out there, but he rarely gave this one out as is.

“Who’s asking?” Bakugou asked gruffly. Kirishima raised an eyebrow at him and Bakugou shrugged.

Seguir leyendo

how bakugou would react to his child telling his mom to shut up?

Katsuki has always had his doubts when it came to parenthood. However the first day he held his baby boy to his chest after his birth, he felt all his fears disappear in thin air. The comfortable weight of his tyke somehow was enough to silence his fears of being a good father.

When he found his little brat inherited the same quirk as him, he was over the moon. Their bond only grew stronger and stronger through their endless training and practice at his agency. After all, if Katsuki was anything, he was a family man.

With his son growing in a young adolescent, Katsuki could see only more of himself in his boy. The same brash attitude he once strutted around the campus of his middle school. Their mannerisms hardly differed as they sat discussing on the couch, his sweet little wife tucked under his arm.

"This is heaven" He couldn't help but think. There he was, living a life his younger self could never have imagined. Yet this was all he needed. The most important two people of his life, right here with him. The explosive pro hero's train of thought was rudely interrupted however by the loud sneer of his son.

"Shut it mom- we're busy"

The words that left his son's mouth in a fleeting moment, left a bitter look on Katsuki's face. How could Katsuki ever miss the way his wife tensed under his arm, a look at her and he would have seen the tears that rushed to her lash line. However he didn't know if he was strong enough to see that at the moment.

Had he not been holding his wife to his side, he would have flown into a rage. Katsuki loved his boy to pieces, but his wife had been the one to teach him how to love. His wife had stuck out his explosiveness, all the crude remarks and his constant hot and cold behavior throughout his UA years, and made herself a home in his heart. So no matter who it was, Katsuki wasn't gonna have it.

"What did you say, brat!"

Katsuki snaps back, his voice dangerously low as if daring his son to try to repeat himself. Holding his wife protectively to his side, his thumb subconsciously rubs circles on her arm in an attempt to comfort her, while his teen could only look at him dumbfounded. Frozen still in place for Katsuki was never like this at home, his anger never directed towards him especially.

"Dad I-"

"Apologize. Now."

Katsuki said coldly. He wasn't the one for any dumb excuses and his son's malicious tone towards his wife wasn't something he was just gonna tolerate.

"Katsu, it's okay"

He could hear his wife mumble softly, her warm hand pressed his chest, coaxing him gently to let go of the matter. He was only a teenager after all, isn't this what they do, his wife believed. Katsuki however, didn't believe the same. Had the remark been directed towards Katsuki he would have let go of it, getting back to him a crude comment of himself, but this was his sweet little wife. He couldn't even remember one instance of her raising her voice to discipline their son, she's always been kind and gentle in her parenting methods, offering only the utmost support. So no, it wasn't okay in eyes Katsuki's eyes.

"I'm sorry mom... I shouldn't have done that. I didn't- ..mean to"

His son replies, his head hung shamefully as he takes a moment to reflect what he had just done. Katsuki had raised him to be gentleman through and through. Every step of the way, reminding him how his mother deserved only the best in the world. So for him to snap at his mom was out of character for him, but he would say the stress of school and preparing for UA was getting to him, resulting in him snapping at the only person his heart trusted not to hate him for it.

"Try that once more and we'll have long talk about it. And I can promise you the next time we train you won't have it easy"

Katsuki threatens lightly, knowing he had the little smack to his chest coming as his wife chuckled shyly as his protective instinct. Maybe he meant it, but his wife didn't have to know that he wasn't kidding. Of course he would never hurt his own son, but of course he could tire him out until his body had no energy to snap at his own mother of all people.

His wife's chuckle however was enough to lighten the air around them. The little bakugou earning a little tug on his ear to make sure he understood his lesson. All the while he smiled sheepishly, moving to sit on the floor in front of his mother, burying his head in her lap as a silent apology, seeking her reassurance.

Katsuki could have been the strongest damn hero to exist, but again, he was only a family man after all and the sight was enough to soften his iron heart. His wife tucked under his arm, rubbing the head of his now teen boy.

"brat"

Katsuki mumbles softly, tucking his wife's under his chin as he starts his earful lecture for his son about his wife being 'the most damn amazing woman on earth' and how he needs to do better he's gonna be a true bakugou, because in this family, we love our only woman.

That night, Katsuki slept with his head tucked in his wife's neck, whispering sorry's for not being a good father enough for this to happen in the first place. His worries however were soothed with an array of kisses on any skin his wife could reach, all pressed with a "you're the best father our baby could have had".

p.s. thank you soooooo much for the ask! I had so much fun writing this. I hope you like it <33

katsuki katsuki katsuki but you haven't told each other "i love you" yet. he's like in his third year and he's interning at endeavour's agency again. you're interning somewhere else, unfortunately for him. he gets antsy when you're not around, gets overstimulated just a bit more quickly. so whenever he gets back to the agency to go to bed he makes a quick call and he prays to god you're still awake, and when you are he mutes his mic so you don't hear the big sigh of relief he lets out.

he's asking you about your day first always, so he has your voice to hear to calm him down before he rants about his bullshit day. he grumbles about how you giggle about his experience. you defend yourself by saying he's just so dramatic when he tells stories. he scoffs, but chuckles just a bit when you copy his way of speaking.

it's just supposed to be a quick call, but katsuki wishes you could call all night. or, he'll do you one even better, he wishes you could just be here with him. where you're supposed to be.

so when he has to hang up, his shoulders hunch a little bit 'cus he can already feel his ears burning and he lowers his voice just a bit more cus you're the only one that he wants to hear his next words.

" all right, i gotta go."

"mmaaaaaww..." you whine over the phone, he feels an affectionate smirk pull at his face and he snorts "yeahh," he teases. "you free tomorrow ?"

you hum, thinking for a bit "i should be. 'round nine maybe ?"

"good, i'll call you." he says. you giggle "kay, can't wait." you giggle excitedly. "goodnight, suki. sweet dreams, okay ?"

there it is. his heart beats harder in his chest, he readjusts in his chair and he sighs. good night, i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you he wants to say. his face burns and he's sure to others he looks pissed as fuck, but it's only because he's trying to keep his blush down.

"yeah, yeah.." he gulps, ducking his head down so he's sure you and only you hears him "miss you."

it's soft, the way he says it. gruff and unfamiliar but honest. you offer him a sweet little giggle he's sure he'll think about before falling asleep, try to image your face and what you looked like to help sleep come to him easier.

"i miss you too, sooo much.." you swooned, voice sweet and shaky from the smile pulling at your face that he can almost see. "but i'll see you again soon, okay ?"

he grumbles under his breath in agreement. " yeah sure, whatever. gimme a kiss."

"ooh ? now you want my through-the-phone-kisses ?" you tease, voice playful. he can almost see how proud you are and it makes him roll his eyes.

a simple "shut up," is all he can think up, he repeats himself "gimme a kiss." he demands, scowl fixed into an almost pout.

and you do, you make it extra long for him and with a sweet little "mmuuah !" and a final good night and wishes of sweet dreams and good rest, you hang up. katsuki stays with his phone by his ear for a moment longer before he decides to get up and get ready for bed.

i love you, he wants to call back and tell you he loves you.

but you need rest, and so does he. so he'll tell you that tomorrow.

dreamy sigh,,, katsuki katsuki katsuki

No matter how many time his heart told him to stop, to just sit down for a minute and really think about whether or not he really needed to do this, he knew he had to.

Katsuki loved you. So much. So much it fucking hurt.

He would burn down the world and rebuild it for you, if you asked.

But as always, Katsuki was fatefully bound by the chains of Hero Society, controlling his every move and action.

At first, when he decided we wanted to go down this path, he knew that having any sort of romantic life was out of the question.

He knew that it would only caused troubles in the future.

But, like all humans do, Katsuki couldn't help but give in to temptation.

How could he? You were too sweet, too passionate, too perfect, for him to ignore.

He couldn't help it.

Falling in love with you was the best feeling Katsuki could've ever felt.

And yet, it was the most dangerous feeling he would've ever felt too.

Printed on the file given to him was the mission order for an operation across seas for 8 months.

Eight fucking months.

He couldn't tell you.

He couldn't bring himself to do so.

It tore him apart inside, the anxiety of being separated from you for so long now mixed with a different feeling.

Paranoia.

The region he was going to traveling to, according to the file, was known for its kidnapping of individuals close to the target, as a method of torture.

It tore him apart inside, to even think something like that could happen to you.

And the grave truth was that, in the event that it did happen, he couldn't protect you - it was physically impossible, with you in Japan and he on the other side of the world.

Paranoia and fear overcame him for weeks, until it was only a few days until his scheduled departure.

He still hadn't told you.

He knew, deep down, that he really didn't want this.

Katsuki would rather die than let this happen. But he was a selfish man. And he knew, that he'd rather live with the fact that you were alive and safe, than live with the everlasting guilt that your life was under threat, and it was his fault.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when he told you. A Tuesday afternoon when he ended things, when he saw the light he so loved in your eyes dim as you soak in his words.

He can almost see your heart physically snap in two.

Damnit, why does this feel worse?

He sees your eyes grow empty, tears building at your waterline but never spilling over as you give him a tight lipped smile.

No, no, no, fuck, he can't see you like this with your fake ass smile. Stupid fucking perfect you, always trying to support him.

But it was too late.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when Bakugou Katsuki let go of the love of his life, leaving you sobbing your heart out in your lonely apartment, alone and brokenhearted.

A/N: Feeling kinda mopey so here haha

Thinking about husband!Bakugo and wife!reader

Katsuki always pictured himself as a hero, yes. But when that became a reality, his life had no other purposes than to be the number one hero. Bear with me, he still wanted to be number one. But as he grew older he saw people around him settle and have a compromise between hero life and their private life. And by that I mean building a family. Kirishima was the first one to do so with Mina, soon followed by a lot of his friends. Even Deku at some point. And even if he sometimes loved being 'uncle Kats', he sometimes wishes he could hear that small laugh looking like his, or small eyes sparkling like yours.

For the first time ever, his wishes took another turn. He wanted to be father as much as he wanted to be the number one hero. If not even more.

And even if it took a while to get it off his chest, he wouldn't regret it for one second just to live this moment.

~

He was coming home after a long day of work, expecting to hear little screams and be met with the vivacity of his house. No, pure silence. It seemed strange to not hear small runnning footsteps towards the entryway and a little excited 'daddy !' coming from the living room.

He got his shoes off and started his investigation on where the people in his house was hidden. He first thought of one of their endless pranks which soon got denied by the sight next to the couch.

You were there, sleeping on the carpet with a little boy in your arms. His son, his first born of now three. And your hand rested on the edge of a rocking crib where his daughter of a little less than five months was sleeping peacefully too. She was sprawled out just like him when he sleeps and beneath her closed eyelids she shared the same red irises as him and her brother.

His son had his head nuzzled in your shoulder, being always so clingy to you in such a vulnerable state. And your cheek was smudged against the top of his spiky looking hair. You were drolling a little, your hair slightly messed up but right now you looked like the most beautiful creature that he got the whance to marry somehow. And that shimmering band on your finger was the proof of it.

He crouched down, carefully putting his gauntlets away. He studied you three for a very long time, never getting sick of it. He had build this... After years of only wanting to be a hero, he had build something greater. Something to go home to, to live for, to not be reckless for, to protect with all his strength. Because when he left in the morning, it was to those smiles and those faces he was fighting to come back to. He gently took out his phone, already filled to the brim with other frozen moments like this... of his family. He took a picture, his smile extending as he heard you mumbling his name in your sleep. He obviously put it as his new lockscreen, a new vision of his motiviation.

He'll bleed and fight for this and make all those streets sure for these three persons right in front of him. He kissed each of your faces carefully before silently going to cook dinner. Not without glancing at the baby photos hanging on the wall on his way out.

They were his copy, a fact you would often complain about. Being the one who "carried them for 9 months and got no credit on the appearence" as you liked to say. But he knew part of you adored to have little versions of him running around. And he was jealous of it, he wanted to have a mini you too running around.

But that would be for another day. Closer than you might know.

title: i've changed, won't you see?

pairing: prohero!katsuki x reader

summary: katsuki ruined your life when you were small, giving you a life altering injury, though getting nothing more than a pat on the back. throughout his successes he can't get you out of his mind, so he sets out to make amends with you.

tags: silent voice inspired!! childhood bully katsuki :(, disabled reader, mentions of violence, angst to fluff, su1cide attempt, comfort, implied nsfw, no proofread

(a/n: i wanted to give my hand at really long works while doing drabbles in between but i have so many drafts now jajsjsj)

wc: ~4k

your eyes were always blurry around him it seemed. your hands shaking as your voice cracked, just begging him. "please leave me alone!" with all the might a five year old could muster.

they scoffed at you, they always did. "crybaby. blame your parents for not giving you a quirk. you should've moved when i told you to anyways, it's my park dont you know?" katsuki mocked, moving closer to you, noticing the card behind your back.

"stop being so mean! quirkless people don't do anything wrong!"

"quirkless don't do anything."

your chest was heaving with pain, your little heart couldn't take it. "you-- you'll never be a hero, you're too mean!"

in an act of rage, he set off an explosion. it was only meant to intimidate you but..

once the smoke settled your screams of terror filled the playground.

blood dripped on the floor, pooling in your hand as your grasped your ear. a ringing was all you could hear, it was driving you crazy.

were you crying? you couldn't tell, you couldn't hear. your eyes were shut as you were filled with panic, the smell of iron flooding your senses.

but katsuki remembered so much more.

the smell of the burned cartilage of your ear, the sight of it, or rather the lack of. the blood that wouldn't stop coming, why wasn't it stopping?

his group that usually rallied behind him was now gone, leaving him and a wailing you alone. he tried to talk to you, but you weren't responding.

he grew the courage to touch you, tapping on your shoulder slowly, but that didn't comfort you. in fact he thought it made it worse, making you bow your head in a defensive position.

he stared at you, unable to move, he was supposed to be a hero like allmight, were you right?

finally, a teacher came running to get you, an ambulance already on the way. they didn't look at katsuki, only at the pitiful state you were in.

you didn't respond to them either.

katsuki felt sick as he stood where you and the teacher had left them. he felt sick as he looked down to the remains of what he'd done to you.

he couldn't process it yet, but he felt a sickening despair and guilt be placed upon his shoulders.

one that wouldn't disappear.

he wasn't blamed for anything, only getting a quirk consolation. they thought he lost control? his parents eyed him as he tried to explain what had truely happened, he didn't know why he was trying, did he want to get punished?

but even after, nothing was done. with a lecture and a couple promises he was sent back to class with nothing done to him.

your life was changed forever though, it was apparent in the way that you seemed even more quiet and closed off. you sat in the back, never spoke to anyone, and got teary eyed when he even stood close to you.

your hair covered your ears constantly, a hearing aid peeking through the strands occasionally. the teacher never forced you to participate, none of them ever made an effort.

the teacher had explained to the class how you were completely deaf in one ear, and extremely hard of hearing in the other. how you'd use sign language from now on, and that the class would learn some in support. they never did though, the conversation going ignored as soon as it was uttered.

you were pulled out of class often, the teacher having to tap you on the shoulder to get your attention. your eyes dejected and your presence small as the person who came to get you made gestures with their hands to you.

you'd been cruelly placed in matching classes 'til your last years of junior high. you'd stayed the same way for forever, it was like a weight placed over his chest.

yet he felt he deserved it. he knew he was messed up. he watched you, a lot. he saw you in the back corners, usually forgotten and ignored. when you were acknowledged you were mocked, people making random hand signs to make fun of the way he forced you to communicate, mocking your unconfident speech right after.

he saw the way you sunk into yourself afterwards, making his heart hurt as you grew impossibly smaller. your hands held your own as you prayed for it to be over.

everytime you'd catch him in the halls, you'd still freeze up. your breath shaky as you bowed and left quickly, making his friends laugh but make him queasy.

that interaction was witnessed by your teacher who, after a day of you not showing up, assigned him to give you your work for the day.

with sweaty palms and a racing heart, he dropped by your house. he knew where it was, of course he did, your mom and his were close industry friends even after the incident.

because you'd never told anyone about what he'd do to you.

he knocked on the door, attempting to seem nonchalant. when you answered though, he felt his heart lurch in his chest.

"[name], uh-- this is your work."

you didn't respond, you looked almost nauseous at the sight of him, it was deserved though.

he placed your work on the floor and walked off, that was the only time he'd spoken to you since the incident,

and he couldn't even apologize.

- - -

U-A wouldn't only be a dream for him, but a release for you both. was it selfish to want to run away from his problems? sure, but it'd help you too.

as everyone in the class exclaimed the names of the schools they picked, unsurprised at katsuki's choice, he pondered on where you'd go.

nobody asked you, so you didn't speak. staying quiet as you looked out the window.

katsuki got accepted into U-A easily, but he couldn't help but feel he lacked the main criteria. he'd hurt people poorly, and couldn't apologize because of his ego.

he felt sick to accept these accomplishments of his, knowing it'd be built up on the foundation of hurting you.

but he did anyway, selfishly. he kept up his harsh demeanor in U-A anyways, working hard and scoring high. he graduated top of his class, job offers to agencies left and right.

he accepted one, working for his old internship officially now. he climbed the ranks quickly, saving lives and catching the attention of the media.

a couple years later, he was a steady number five hero when he took a patrol route over for deku. as he strolled through the city, stores littering the buildings, he saw someone he never thought he'd see again.

you, only now working for your mothers seamstress company. you were embroidering something on the station, hands precise and focused, not noticing him.

he had to keep moving, but.. he made a mental note to come back later.

he finished his patrol anxious, he went to sleep thinking of what he'd even say to you. 'hey sorry for ruining your life, can you forgive me?' he slapped his forehead in frustration.

he searched up basic sign language for beginners, learning a bit. he laughed at the stupid thoughts of your forgiveness that he dreamt of.

"as if i deserve it." he muttered, looking deeply at the ceiling of his room before falling asleep.

as soon as he awoke, he got dressed and prepared. he tried to look causal, as if he wasn't planning this.

he walked in, immediately greeted by your mother who congratulated him on his heroics. "well isn't that dynamite? saving the world i see."

he laughed politely. "i'll be number one soon enough."

"of course! well, what're you looking for? i'll give you a family discount, you grew up so close to [name] didn't you?"

his heart jumped into his throat.

"uh.. we did."

"you two were so adorable! she was so nervous around you, she must've had a crush on you or something!"

"i definitely don't think so."

"oh, you're just being modest." she said, hitting his arm lightly. "there she is now, go and speak to her."

"uh-- i--"

"go!" she shoved him in your direction, making you look up to see him. your lips parted in an unrecognizable expression as you saw him, the line you were working on now crooked as you were left alone together.

it's been about ten years hadn't it? ten years since he last saw you, but a lifetime he needed to apologize for.

he'd learned so much in U-A, outwardly changing his demeanor to what he always aspired to be. but all that meant nothing to you, who only experienced him at his worst.

he awkwardly raised his hand up to you, he did his best to sign while speaking, his hands shaky and unconfident. "hi [name], i'm really sorry about what happened back then."

your eyes followed the movements, your hands absentmindedly wrapping around yourself loosely, defensively.

"i know this is a lot but,

can we be friends?"

he waited anxiously for you to answer, you looking as if you were processing it.

in a grown up, yet timid voice, one that he hadn't heard since you were young, you almost whispered, signing as you did so out of reflex. "thank you, bakugo." your eyes grew watery. great, he just couldn't seem to stop making you cry.

he sat near you after getting wordless permission to, hanging onto every word you spoke, and being mindful to speak in a calm tone himself.

"i.. i'd like a friend, honestly. a new one anyways."

he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you said that, but still, it wasn't enough.

he wanted to, no needed to make you happy. the years of torment he subjected you to couldn't be made up by anything less than years of happiness.

after a bit of small talk, him asking you questions about what you'd been up to, how your life was treating you. he zoned out a couple times, thinking of how beautiful you've become.

"what would make you happy, [name]?" he finally said, his head supported on his hand as he gazed at you, making sure to enunciate his words so you could read his lips.

"what makes you ask?"

"i-- i want to make you happy. no matter the cost, it's what you deserve."

she laughed softly at that, her eyes flickering with an indistinguishable expression. "...i always wanted to travel. around the world, to see mountains and landscapes."

"then i'll take you."

"you don't have t--"

"i do. and ill do more [name], what i did to you was-- is horrible. you know that."

"i..

okay, okay bakugo."

"katsuki."

you smiled, "katsuki."

going from having very limited contact with your only friend from high school, to having a prohero come to your shop everyday was jarring. but not unwelcomed.

he brought gifts with him everytime, learning what you'd like and not. it ranged from food to stuffed animals, flowers to accessories, all of which you really appreciated.

you grew closer, eventually starting to meet outside of your mother's shop. at the park or walking around the mall, he'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. he'd pay for everything too, despite your reluctance.

he kept his word to you, and at the end of the month he asked you to come up to his apartment.

a penthouse.

as you walked in, greeted by the shimmering atmosphere of the expensive furniture and decor all around, abstract paintings and trophies littering shelves on the walls.

you stood by the front entrance, taking off your shoes as you walked in. "katsuki?" you asked, looking around.

he came out, a tiny smile on his face. "ya made it." he had something behind his back, "come in [name]."

the apartment was huge to say the least, it becoming even bigger than it looked from the entrance. he guided you to his plush couch, sitting next to you.

"so, i know you said you dreamt of traveling, right?"

at your nod, he pulled out the tickets from behind his back. "i.. got this tickets for you. i didn't want to push it in case you didn't want me to go with you but--"

you cut him off with a hug, tackling him into the couch.

"of course i want you to come,

katsuki."

you signed his name differently than other times,

you'd finally made a name for him.

he hugged back mindfully, so excited to finally have a huge first step in the right direction.

but he still needed to make you happy. "we'll leave in two days if that's okay, i just wanted to give you time to pack."

"okay, that's good."

"do you.. want to stay?" he asked nervously, the thought had popped into his mind and out his mouth in a millisecond.

you blinked, sitting up on his legs, pondering it over.

"sure, okay."

he put on some movies for the two of you, his heart was racing at the proximity of your body to his.

the night ended with you laid on top of him, fast asleep as he was comforted by the beating of your heart against his. your chest against his, his hand in your hair as your head laid in his neck.

he woke up first, to the sight of the gold light making you look heavenly, your hair messy from how he was playing with it throughout the night. your face was almost against his, he could kiss you right now.

but he shouldn't. he would move but he didn't want to couldn't, so he looked you over. you woke up to the feeling of his fingers caressing your face, your eyes half lidded from sleep.

"'suki. g'morning."

his heart was getting used to irregularly pounding around you at this point. "[name], uh-- hi."

after a couple moments, you got off of him, much to his discontent. his hands sliding down your legs as you got up.

"i'll be going now, i gotta pack and stuff." you said, looking in one of the many mirrors scattered around as you fixed your appearance as much as you could.

he nodded. "let me walk you home at least."

and he did walk you home, hand in hand.

those two nights he spent pondering over you. he didn't know why, but hero work felt much lighter after talking it out with you. becoming your friend was one of the best things he'd achieved in years, and that was including his recent rankings.

he thought back to how he treated you as a kid, had he really just been searching for your validation all along?

is that why it hurt when you told him he'd never amount to his dreams, because he only valued your opinion?

he let himself sleep, he'd see you tomorrow. and he'd make it all right.

he woke up and picked you up at your place, his expensive sports car standing out against the comfort of the neighborhood. you walked out, dressed simply but cute, a bag of your own in hand.

he grabbed it from you and placed it in the back, opening the passenger door for you as he drove to the airport. his hand on your thigh as he did so, letting you play the music you'd like with loud bass.

it was a half hour ride in comfortable silence, he gazed at you occasionally, a thoughtful expression on your face.

on the plane, you sat by the window. it was first class so you'd get to sleep in a physical bed, in a closed room. you were treated to whatever food and drinks you wanted, hugging katsuki when you found out you where you were heading.

the flight was a long eighteen hours, but it was spent hanging out with katsuki. on his lap asking him questions about the shows you two had watched, power scaling arguments about past heroes, fights he'd recently been in.

also what you two planned to do as you were there, you wanted to go to the beaches and mountains, he just wanted to follow you.

you fell asleep together again, your face laid directly in his chest as he held you.

you woke up to katsuki tapping you on the shoulder. as you raised the volume on your aids, you heard the beeping on the intercoms that meant you'd have to go back to your seats for the landing, groggily being helped up by katsuki as he moved you to to your seats.

you sat by the windows, looking at the tropical region as you two landed, your hand still in his. the moments after we're a blur, before you knew it you were in a car being buckled up by katsuki as you were being driven to your hotel.

what you didn't know was that it was a villa, built on top of the waters of the ocean, your very own private beach right outside your doors with the mountains you'd dreamt of treking right behind you.

you'd never been so happy.

the days you'd spent started and ended all the same, you waking up and going to sleep in katsuki's arms. pretending like you didn't notice how your bed hair got worsened after he played with it all night.

the first days you'd spent at the beach, attempting and failing at surfing. your jet lag was killed off by your utter excitement.

you being thankful your aids were water resistant because of how much you loved the waters of the river and the seas.

you'd had a sandcastle competition, sunbathed, and soaked off in the hot tub of your villa together.

the trek's were fun too, katsuki was annoyingly good at everything so you'd have to fight to keep up.

your polaroid in hand as you snapped candid shots of him, turning it to yourself as you got a selfie of you two with the gorgeous rivers as background.

you jumped into those too, making katsuki freak out as you dived in to the deep waters.

you even got to the top one day, jokingly saying that you should've brought a flag to the top to celebrate. the golden hours of the sunset making you glimmer.

a moment of silence passed over you as he slowly approached you, wordlessly asking for permission as you once again put your hands in his.

you leaned in first, kissing him with the sun as witness.

"i really like you [name]." he sighed and spoke after you pulled away.

"i like you too." you replied, hugging him tightly.

the rest of your trip was filled with your firsts with katsuki.

your first official date was in the burrows of the forest, a picnic where you two painted portraits of eachother. albeit, unique portraits... but painting nonetheless.

your first moment truly loving someone, the feeling you recognized as you laid him in your lap for the first time.

your first talk about what happened all those years ago. a deep one.

"[name], before we become something um.. official. we need to talk about how i hurt you." katsuki said one day, laying faced to you but taking your hands into his.

"kats--"

"let me speak. please." after you nodded, he took a breath and began.

"i was egotistical and really insecure all those years. you were the only one who really read me, that's why i think i got so upset.

i didn't mean to hurt you, i never wanted to hurt anyone i swear-- i just hated that you were right.

that weighed over me all these years, the fact that my hero work meant nothing if i was doing it while acting so.. unheroic.

i never fully felt like a hero, not until i met you again.

not until you graced me with your friendship, your undeserved affection towards me. i just-- i really care about you. and im really sorry, ill spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, and you don't have to accept it because i don't deserve it.

i guess what i'm trying to say is..

sorry, and.. i love you [name].

you don't have to--"

he was cut off by a kiss on his lips.

it felt different somehow, he couldn't place it. almost sad in a way as you pulled back.

"i don't think you were trying to hurt me. but, you did.

and you're working to change it, i appreciate that.

i really care for you too katsuki."

the rest of your trip was comfortingly domestic, learning things about each other you'd never know.

your last week was bittersweet, having to leave your jointed paradise was a reality that saddened the both of you. but your dream was fulfilled, and so was his.

seeing that he was the cause of your smiles and not your horror, making you happy was the light of his day. no, his life.

he thinks he was born to make you happy.

the flight back was a blur, you spent it clinging to him. you started to gift him your own things over the hours, a scrunchie of yours, a bracelet for him to keep.

a locket with a photo of you two, and the polaroid you'd taken on the mountains.

"why are you giving this all to me? not that i'm complaining."

"well, you'll get more use out of it. that's all."

he scrunched his face up in confusion, but with a smile you waved off his concerns.

he wished he pushed you more.

he wished that you'd forgive him for failing you once again, as he fought to take the razor blade out of your grip, slicing your hand in the process.

you were in your bathtub, surrounded by water yet fully clothed, tears and wails wracking your body as you just wanted it to be over.

you finally relented, your blood staining his clothes and the water as he picked you up. you couldn't hear him, you'd taken out your aid.

but you could feel his sobs, his tears hitting you as you shut your eyes, embarrassed of what you'd just done.

you were rushed to the hospital and given stitches, you were to be closely watched from your mom now on, you were told by an interpreter.

katsuki's eyes were red, matching his pupils as he looked at you.

he was frustrated, you could see it in the trembling of his fists and the scowl in his mouth. if he hadn't been there.. you would be dead.

why, he asked you. and to be honest, you really couldn't explain it yourself.

when you got home to your apartment, empty and reminding of your reality away from katsuki, you just felt so..

scared. what would happen when he finally got the validation he needed and left you? your whole life was quiet and tranquil, you'd gotten used to it. but he flipped it upside down again, showed you what your life really could be.

it was too much for you. you had to escape, so after sitting on it, tapping your leg anxiously as you pondered your decision, you went on your phone.

you went online and saw his life outside of you, how he had everything going for him yet what did you really have? a mom and a job at her company?

you grew impulsive, grabbing it absentmindedly and filling up the tub with the water you grown to love over the past month.

after you started bleeding, you panicked. what had you just done? but it was too late..

until he saved you from yourself.

you were zoning out. when you didn't answer him, he repeated himself, grabbing the interpreter so you could sign.

but still you said nothing, except a small sorry.

he left afterwards, leaving you alone in the bed to think.

you were back in your childhood room now, your mom having sobbed as she looked over your hands, as she asked you, "what the hell were you thinking?"

you looked at those glow in the dark stars and tried to find an answer, but there was none.

you held yourself to sleep for the first time in months, already missing him deeply.

little did you know, he was thinking about you too.

the next morning you awoke to a knock on your bedroom door. assuming it was your mom, you got up and opened it.

it was katsuki instead, holding a bouquet of flowers and the locket you'd given him.

"can i come in?"

you opened the door wider, leading him to sit on your bed.

"katsuki i--"

"[name]. i don't know why you did what you did.. but i know it probably has something to do with me. so what did i do wrong?" he looked defeated, as if he thought it was his fault you tried to end your life.

"no! no that wasn't it at all. well, it was about you but not like that.

it's just.. i've been alone. for so long? having you around felt.. too good to be true. i didn't want to go back to how i was before. in a way, you were too good for me."

"you're.. an idiot. but i guess i understand."

"i just.. i really love how you treat me. i didn't want it to go away."

a moment of silence passes, a small anxious laugh leaving katsuki's lips.

"fuck, i thought you hated me. could barely sleep without you."

he pulled you into him, staring deeply into your eyes as he pulled you impossibly closer. he kissed you deeply. his worries, passions, and frustrations all poured out into it.

he pulled away, eyes half lidded as he asked gruffly.

"wanna take this back to my place?"

he took your last first away, gentle and loving as he guided you through it. reassuring you that he'd never leave you.

you moved in with him soon after, finding it hard to sleep without eachother, no matter how late he got back to your shared home.

he'd be welcomed back by the sight of you, who always tried and failed to stay up waiting for him. he'd pick you up, like always, and hug you to sleep.

he'd know he woke you up by the feeling of your smile in his chest, the way you tightened you arms around him.

he loved spending every waking moment he could with you. you were right though, he did break up with you after he got your validation.

...

but that's just an odd way to say he proposed to you, vowing to spend the rest of his life making you happy and fufiling your wishes one by one.

he changed not only himself, but the way you see yourself. he changed your relationships with yourselves and eachother for the better,

and as you walked down the aisle, your wedding planned by your two designer parents, being lavish and gorgeous. the silk on the floor being runway to your expensive shoes specially designed for you, the guests in awe of how gorgeous you are.

you both knew, you'd better eachother for better or for worse, for as long as you'd be together.

he signed 'i do', sealing the rest of your lives together,

with a kiss.

[08: the one with the hero ranking ceremony]

synopsis - in light of a major controversy that causes his fan support to dwindle significantly, katsuki bakugou is forced to do anything possible to garner back the affection of his fans before the announcement of the year’s hero rankings. katsuki has two options: either "date" japan’s most-adored social media star, in hopes of her amazing reputation bringing up his, or kiss that #1 spot goodbye. it’s a no-brainer what he chooses. and it shouldn’t matter at all, right? it’s a fake relationship. nothing more, nothing less

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FUN FACT #1: Midoriya actually did end up hopping on livestream with Y/N that one time, and they kind of sort of became friends! Mina thinks it’s great for both of their images.

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thank you, good people, for reading.

@teacakes06 @pinxeajin @eitelle @kaldurahms-lover @daughteofaphrodite @sara4uuu @f0und-heaven @azamii0 @vitanicheney666 @twinnintwink @kara062284-blog @astraea-lunar @neoclb @apple9i3 @thekookiecorner @beatr2x @lovra974 @justbepeace @luvrluvrr @kyluskaye @nottherealslimshady @punicorn999 @itgetzweird08 @iamaconfusedpan @yoonights @shotos-angelic-whore @nnnyxie @nachofrien @bakunianadecorazon @spilled-coffee-cup @minetaphobe @y-n1simp @enterdivinity @sweetblueworm @kovu-bunnbunn @gsyche @nerinefy @missmanda511 @m-0ona @bbybubbles @tokeposts

ღ what being loved by them feels like | bnha edition ღ

➳ incl. midoriya, bakugo, todoroki, and kirishima. 

➳ tags / warnings ;; food ment, alcohol ment. 

➳ wc ;; 1.9k

➳ a/n ;; should be gn i think but im tired asf so lmk

i. midoriya izuku

Slow. 

It’s an unspoken promise of forever tucked under his tongue when he speaks to you. The comfort of a strong hand on your shoulder, an arm around your waist as he whispers to you some drunken secret. It’s not meant to be romantic, not exactly - when your friends ask you about it you always respond the same way. 

“It’s just Midoriya,” with a passive glance somewhere else, a dismissive hand shaking away the disbelief that someone so extraordinary could love you. It is disbelief, effervescent in how it fills your stomach with that tingly feeling. Midoriya takes it slowly. 

Being loved by him feels like a Sunday. Not in how it’s the mark of something but a reminder of repition, how good it feels to do something over and over again. There is so much to love about a Sunday afternoon, the comfort of knowing there is always another Sunday that comes after. That the luxury of warmth that stretches so far it is no longer a commodity. 

You don’t have to worry about when the next time will be. Midoriya loves you in a such a way that next time is every time. That your happiness is not something to supplement but to nurture - with presence and patience and tender care. You wonder how someone with such reckless abandon can love so carefully, with nimble fingers that zip up the back of your dress when you ask. 

Midoriya loves you with his hands. Always with gnarled flesh and scars to the bone - that brush so eagerly against your own. Sometimes, he blushes. He never gets used to your comfortable intimacy - not at first. That slow love has a habit of being embarassing. It’s friendly, supposed to be anyways. But something about the way he’s encased your hand with his, the silence the blossoms and blooms. You wonder if he’s always been so warm - you tell him as much. 

He replies with a gentle voice, a wistful smile and reply - “Only for you,” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed - like somehow this is some kind of confession, and he laughs. He laughs deep from his chest and the sound is too much. Midoriya has loved you so slowly, you seem not to have realized that every word from his mouth is a confession. It’s sweet, sticky like honey how it drips onto your tongue. You find yourself drinking it without thinking, without realizing how it’s the only thing you can taste when he’s next to you. 

Being loved by him is a slow feeling - the kind of love that stretches comfortably over time like old jeans. He always seems to fit you just right, like he was made for you. He likes to think so, anyway. 

Keep reading

BLOCKED ! (Part 1) (SMAU series)

Summary: As a student of class 1-B, the first time you really saw Bakugo Katsuki was at the sports festival. That’s when you decided you would pursue him. It’s not easy though, because he absolutely hates you. Content: One kys joke, just teens being teens tbh, nothing too exciting since it’s the first part Masterlist

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©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites without my permission, thanks!

[07: the one before the ceremony{

synopsis - in light of a major controversy that causes his fan support to dwindle significantly, katsuki bakugou is forced to do anything possible to garner back the affection of his fans before the announcement of the year’s hero rankings. katsuki has two options: either "date" japan’s most-adored social media star, in hopes of her amazing reputation bringing up his, or kiss that #1 spot goodbye. it’s a no-brainer what he chooses. and it shouldn’t matter at all, right? it’s a fake relationship. nothing more, nothing less

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist | previous | next

@teacakes06 @pinxeajin @eitelle @kaldurahms-lover @daughteofaphrodite @sara4uuu @f0und-heaven @azamii0 @vitanicheney666 @twinnintwink @kara062284-blog @astraea-lunar @neoclb @apple9i3 @thekookiecorner @beatr2x @lovra974 @justbepeace @luvrluvrr @kyluskaye @nottherealslimshady @punicorn999 @itgetzweird08 @iamaconfusedpan @yoonights @shotos-angelic-whore @nnnyxie @nachofrien @bakunianadecorazon @spilled-coffee-cup @nerinefy @minetaphobe @y-n1simp @enterdivinity @sweetblueworm @kovu-bunnbunn @ichigobnnie @gsyche

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FUN FACT: The “work” that Bakugou was so eager to get to, was watching the new trainees try to spar against Midoriya. He thinks their weakness is funny.

FUN FACT #2: We maybe seeing a possible… liking to the dress from Katsuki 👀

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thank you for reading, kind humans <3

[07: the one before the ceremony{

synopsis - in light of a major controversy that causes his fan support to dwindle significantly, katsuki bakugou is forced to do anything possible to garner back the affection of his fans before the announcement of the year’s hero rankings. katsuki has two options: either "date" japan’s most-adored social media star, in hopes of her amazing reputation bringing up his, or kiss that #1 spot goodbye. it’s a no-brainer what he chooses. and it shouldn’t matter at all, right? it’s a fake relationship. nothing more, nothing less

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist | previous | next

@teacakes06 @pinxeajin @eitelle @kaldurahms-lover @daughteofaphrodite @sara4uuu @f0und-heaven @azamii0 @vitanicheney666 @twinnintwink @kara062284-blog @astraea-lunar @neoclb @apple9i3 @thekookiecorner @beatr2x @lovra974 @justbepeace @luvrluvrr @kyluskaye @nottherealslimshady @punicorn999 @itgetzweird08 @iamaconfusedpan @yoonights @shotos-angelic-whore @nnnyxie @nachofrien @bakunianadecorazon @spilled-coffee-cup @nerinefy @minetaphobe @y-n1simp @enterdivinity @sweetblueworm @kovu-bunnbunn @ichigobnnie @gsyche

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FUN FACT: The “work” that Bakugou was so eager to get to, was watching the new trainees try to spar against Midoriya. He thinks their weakness is funny.

FUN FACT #2: We maybe seeing a possible… liking to the dress from Katsuki 👀

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thank you for reading, kind humans <3

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

summary: in a land where marriage is set in stone at birth and love is but a myth, a girl tries her best to navigate the life she’s been born into. when her father assigns her own knight, somebody he trusts to look after her in these dangerous times, nobody would have expected the brave young soldier to twist her story with his, taking your life into a spin that was unforeseen by the fates.

pairing: bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

genre: forbidden love, royalty au, strangers to friends to lovers, comfort, mild angst, fluff

warnings: mdni 18+, all characters are aged up, detailed sex, heavy making out, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, a little bit of a hand job, grinding, all the works lmao, mentions of depressive thoughts, nothing too explicit

notes: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

as always, thank you so much @jadeisthirsting for beta reading this and helping me throughout this fic!

mha masterlist

The bazaars of Afrasiab were unlike any other, and they dimmed in comparison to what the mind could imagine. All of the land in Persia held its animosity, a secret that can only be revealed by sight, but the bazaars there were something no tongue could describe and no ear to relay correctly.

They smelled of lamb and beef kabobs, cooked to perfection, began wafting around the carts of fabrics early in the morning. The mountains of spices were perfectly balanced in their own little plates, laying undisrupted until they caught the eye of curious passersby.

Many streets carried deep underground, for when the bazaar needed continuing and couldn’t be held entirely on top, and the hidden passages held wonders unknown to man.

Unfortunately, however, for somebody seeing these bustling markets for the first time, they tended to be confusing to figure out at the least, and nearly impossible to navigate most of the time.

The young woman who traveled closely with his cloak perched over her head tried to wind through the serpentine stalls, keeping his chin close to her chest as she only watched through the corners of her eyes, careful not to bring attention to herself nor the satchel in her hand. It was all so new to her, every sight she was intaking a far cry from what she was accustomed to seeing. The faint cries of the salesman trying to sell his silver tableware or the santur being played somewhere distant was an overload to somebody who was used to the strange serenity the palace offered.

Everything was a sight to behold. She never came to buy something, only to see. She liked the way this place almost had its own separate language, how it awoke at dawn and never seemed to sleep. She loved how the shopkeepers, always respectful of one another in their boundaries, tried their best to outdo one another in favor of better business.

The way someone shouted to gain the attention of somebody, the way they laced their words with enough enthusiasm to keep the shoppers interested was something she never grew tired of. In comparison to the bleak life that was awaiting her when she got back, these little bits of excitement were enough enrichment to keep her going for a little bit longer.

She took it all in, enjoying the opportunity as she doubted it’d be trusted upon her again, and smiled to herself at the mosaics that lined the curved walls, the dim light the candles offered helped her navigate through the underground bazaar. She looked through all the silverware, the plates painted with utmost care.

She looked through and let her fingers graze above the satin fabrics all dyed a different color. The smells of turmeric and saffron flooded her nose, mixing with the occasional whiff of rose, and she felt as though all these things at once were too compelling alone for a human mind.

No stories nor descriptions could have prepared her for what she was going to experience. It was magical, something surely out of a book. Despite that, however, every minute she spent trying to enjoy the sights was another minute that clicked in her mind mentally.

“Oi,” A gruff voice snapped, jolting her rudely out of her ongoing daydream, “Watch it.”

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((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @toshiimura))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (retired by injury pro-hero fem!reader)

Words: 2.6K

Rating: T (18+ touches later on, to be safe~)

Warnings: Interrupted first time, heavy petting, established relationship, sharing a bed, honestly just Izuku in love and fluffy times commence in a hotel room.

Summary:

Joining Midoriya Sensei on his work trip -and yes, even sharing a bed for the first time- is medicine for you. The exchange of your passions has -and continues to be- an endless source of healing as you navigate life post-hero work. Each night away, you've danced into a settled calm with him; learning the rhythm of his habits. His sounds, his silences. When Izuku meets your gaze in the mirror, you read his mind loud and clear in how he emotes: he fawns, he sighs, then nods in the dearest way.

A/N: give me my sweet, simpering Deku, or give me death. Also by the way, yall are the best readers out there, thank you so much for all the love for my lil stories!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

Life post-hero work was an adjustment for you… but you were starting to really get into the perks.

The lack of daily physical hardship holds the top spot on your list. PT? You can handle that on a rolling basis– the worst is behind you, and due to what you put yourself through which resulted in your injury, you’re out of official hero work for the foreseeable future- and in a way, grateful for the break on your muscles. You still retain your quirk, but can enjoy its thrills on a more recreational basis– your sweet boyfriend has even helped your healing by way of gentle exercises to keep things moving properly and get life manageable for you. 

Next would be the diet. You could certainly dip back into your baking hobby guilt-free now. You couldn’t get away from the hero world entirely -nor did you want to… but being able to settle into an agency office with an hourly job was also an incredible blessing. Late nights here and there were inevitable, but on the whole, you were able to greet and end your days with a steadiness of routine and safety.

Meeting Izuku Midoriya was the icing on your early retirement cake. Where you were tenderly finding your footing off the hero charts, Izuku held your hand to keep you upright. He didn’t lead or pull back on you– just came alongside you, so you didn’t fall too hard on the knees of self-doubt. He’s always so good like that. He knows your path because he himself shares it, and what a thing of fate that is.

New to you now though, is the general scope of free time you have. Not a forced flexibility due to the demand asked of an on-call hero, but you have paid time off. You have flex hours. You can work from home, if you so choose– so when you get the call that Izuku has been asked to hold a spot at the Sports Festival as the lead commentator, you are over the moon that you can answer with a wholehearted ‘yes’ when he asks you to come with him.

As if he’d be anything short of ecstatic, you truly believe the job was made for him. He’s got books upon books of hero research written by hand, and is essentially a walking Brittanica for Japan’s up and coming heroes, because of course he watches every other school’s sports fests in his free time so that his class can be the most prepared. Taking the role Present Mic once held when he was a student is a full-circle moment, and it's pretty precious seeing him in it. 

From day one, he’s a master of his craft, and from the couch you share in the observation deck with his co-teacher, Aizawa, you’re beyond impressed. You honestly wouldn’t be able to tell what department he was aligned with; he’s observant and complimentary of every students’ moves. You asked the pro hero hero beside you if this was the case when Izuku was younger, and he merely offered a sleepy,

“Intolerably, yes.”

But you see the lift of his cheek against his eyepatch and know that he’s secretly proud. 

The Sports Festival spreads over the course of a week now, as the culture surrounding the events available for support students to engage in has increased- to Izuku’s pride and joy. The training and feats of the heroes wouldn’t be possible without the other side of the coin, so he’s just as enthusiastic to hype up the developments of those courses as well. 

Watching your sweet Izuku -catching his eye when he looks back over to you and silently ushers you over to come watch an anticipated match-up of his kids off and on- is medicine for you. This entire exchange of passions has, and continues to be, a source of joy for you and is a treasured part of doing life with him. On that note, the event being held away from your district also grants you extended time to spend together that you normally wouldn’t, given the difference in your professional lives. Here, you’re locked in to five days and four nights of perfectly synced time– something you’ve not been able to do up to this point in your relationship.

Falling asleep and waking up together? This is the best thing ever.

On the first night, it hits your adorably flustered boyfriend that you’d indeed be sharing a room- and bed. That arrangement was something you’d registered the moment he’d asked you and were assuming he’d mentally (and spiritually) prepared for; but evidently it faced him the moment he stepped up to the counter to check in that Nezu had arranged you both to be together by default in the hotel block. 

But rather than falling on the trope of taking the armchair or sleeping on the ground like a middle school nervous nelly, Izuku was shy about it at first… but eager for the chance. The secret part of him finally let out some boyish excitement to find a bed big enough for you to actually share. You’d learned here that you both can spoon like you do on the couch, but you have so much room now. On both your parts, you’re a bit giggly and stiff at first- but settle in sweetly for the most comfortable night of your life.

By the second night, you both scoot into your room and -after a day of dancing around each other at more and more events- you’d be heard from the hallway: jumping into his arms and tackling him to the bed, filled with giggles and lots of kissing until you tangle up more willingly to sleep.

Night three, you’d both stayed out longer than you intended; catching up with some of the other instructors, which turned into essentially a repeat of the night you met. You take to talking up a storm on one of the hotel patios in a nerdy exchange of info-dumping and story-swapping that continues for almost three hours. You basically collapsed into bed the instant you got back, not even brushing your teeth out of exhaustion. Then by your fourth, you both are still so tired from the late night before and you flop on the bed, still in the sun-warmed clothes you set out in that morning.

It's so nice to be held by him- and it's torture to then look back up at each other. There’s definitely a softness found in Izuku’s face -as always, when it comes to your perfectly freckled sweetheart- but also something deep and personal. You want to ask him to shower together so badly and get rid of the day together- anything to add to this closeness you’ve been tiptoe-ing through all week. Worry over pushing him when he’s essentially on the clock keeps you from asking. This time, you still go about your rituals separately, only when you get out, you stay in a towel and shorts instead of full dressing down for bed.

When you're at the in-suite mirror doing your expedited, travel-sized skincare routine and Izuku stops by after he's out of the bathroom, he hesitates mid-step from trying to duck around you– and comes close, holds you by the middle. He stands shirtless behind you for the first time, showing you the scarring he carries in its fullest- no more tanks or undershirts hiding the worst from you. 

You’re as they say in the movies- incandescently happy.

“You smell so good,” he whispers. 

“You feel so good,” you answer. “Wanna go lay down?”

When Izuku meets your gaze in the mirror, you read his mind loud and clear in how he emotes: he fawns, he sighs, then nods in the dearest way. No sense in holding this darn towel up anymore, you simply turn in his arms, drop it, and kiss his surprise away with your reach up to his neck for a kiss. Your first of many, on this last night you could be wrapped up in your incredible boyfriend's arms with nothing but tender intentions on your mind.

Neither of you see a strong need for too many clothes under the sheets for this little foray into skin-to-skin contact, and enjoy a restorative makeout session. He's marked you up a bit, too, by all the harsh kissing he tends to do towards you (you low-key love this, since ‘that’s what makeup’s for’), and you especially appreciate how he plays with you perched in this arrangement.

You’re the first girl he's ever had topless in his reach– which is obvious from how he holds you in his lap nuzzling at your chest,

"Wow, y'r the moss'beautiful woman i'vever seen~"

From your previous talks of dalliances, you proudly keen over him, "I think I'm the only naked woman you've ever seen."

"-I've seen naked women."

You glance back to him, humored but flat, "Who."

Those green doe eyes flicker back up at you, oddly innocent as he quickly names his former classmate, who you’ve commonly heard referred to as Yaomomo, 

“Creati?” he tries to jog your memory, “i-it's part of her quirk, I didn't ev’r mean to look..."

Playfully suspicious, you test him, "Never had a feel?"

"I mean,” Izuku sharpens up a little to answer clearly, “She fell on me once, over in one of the training centers- and I wasn't gonna let her hit or head on something.."

"So a 'strategic catch'. Is that what we're calling it?" You sway your chest in front of him, feeling up his own, “I’m a horribly jealous creature, as you well know.”

He sinks and nuzzles gently at your pushed up chest- by his desire for lift. You’re playing with his painfully polite nature, of course- nothing but secure of your place with him.

"Not even once. Promise." 

Izuku lays a little kiss on your freshly cleaned skin where your heart lies under the surface, and ends up moaning at how soft it is- and so, keeps peppering kisses to your delight, "Oh wow... Oh wow, you're soft."

His name leaves you in an unsteady sigh as you’ve been scratching through his hair until it starts feeling so sharp and heady that you grip onto his neck in need of more support.

He's working on some passes with his tongue around your nipple when he whisper-sighs up to you, 

"mmmm don't stop doing tha'..."

So you play with his hair at his request, and he adores every bit of you that’s in reach: chin to cheek to neck while being the most gently vocal you've ever heard him.

The minute you rolled your barely clothed hips up on his lap just once, he split his attention from holding your waist to him to smoothing over your thigh to encourage the movement.

He started a slinking lean as he did so, losing his absolute mind watching you in a daze, before something dull hit your window - followed by a kid’s call of 'Sorry!!' . You siphon all your attention at the noise in a wide-eyed look that matches his.

Sweetly enough, you noted how fast Izuku held you at the sound, like he was going into strict ‘protect’ mode at the clash of a frisbee.

But, out of danger and out of breath, Izuku simply fell back and palmed his face.

"ughhbyou feel'so good... Mdizzy."

The heat you’d felt simmering in you has died at the interruption, but your fondness sure hasn’t.

You giggled, lowering into his chest and gripping the covers over your shoulders to warm you up, "Good dizzy?"

Even with an arm over his eye, your boy chuckled brilliantly, 

"Very good dizzy, hon’. Whew. We uh– we better stop before they start bangin’ on the door next."

You carded through his hair more, self-assured he was still just as taken by you despite the hard stop. How he kept you to him while shuffling the covers over you both was proof he didn’t want you going anywhere. Once settled, he felt he could focus again and brushed your hair back for attention,

"Hi there, handsome~"

"h-hi~" Izuku echoed.

You kissed again, a good deal calmer at first, but growing like a steady fire. Lips roaming, claiming, and keeping you ever closer. Comfort and reclaimed eagerness tipped you over by his strong guiding hand, all in favor to continue to mouth along your clavicle again.

Then, at the first sound of your addictive moans, he detached- forehead to your sternum, watching the rise and fall of your sweet belly beneath him.

"Ahh..” Izuku’s little war with himself was adorable, “w-we should stop. For real. I can’t- that’d be mean."

“You said that,” you answer with mirth, “but I don’t think ‘Little Deku’ agrees~”

Izuku wheezes out your first, middle, last and retired hero title to the point of coughing before you take it easy on him. Poor, desperate thing, brought low by little tease.

You chuffed against his stroke of nerves kindly. 

"Yes we should, if you say so," You snaked a hand through his hair, "Thank the Maker we don't have to second guess the chemistry department, huh?"

Izuku laughed brightly, slotting himself atop you, between the legs so you didn't have to feel how semi-hard he was. Snuggling back down, your heartbeats held their own conversation, content to cool to a reasonable temperature and slow things down, together.

"I'm so glad you came here with me." Izuku spoke softly to your neck, "This time with you really does me so much good."

And you really have enjoyed it. Getting to see firsthand the place where much of his proving of himself started, this event forged a lot of bonds with the close friends he still has to this day. 

"I'm glad I did too," You kissed the hairline within reach and simply laid comforting scratches along his back. "It's gonna be hell to go back."

"You don't wanna go back to work?"

You threw pity into your voice, "I don't wanna give up this glorified sleepover, no."

You don’t mean just getting carried away with thin walls and thinner restraint. You mean the intimacy that getting out of town sometimes offers in a way nothing else would. The week has made you softer, more in tune to the rhythm of Izuku’s habits. His sounds, his silences. 

The dampened shyness you hold thinking about it floats across him, so he laid back onto your arm to look up at you, 

"We don't have to. We can still have them~"

"Yeah?" You wonder how, earnestly, and he smiles in kind.

"Yeah!” his answer radiates nothing but pure sunshine, “Whenever you want! I'll come over, and we'll cook, and have podcast nights and snuggle, and... and.."

He’s got a look now- one that teeters along the line of flirty and unsure.

"Snuggle?" you finish for him mercifully.

"Y-yeah."

"Vocal snuggles?"

"Stop it," Izuku hid in your shoulder, "don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you~" you turned and kissed his blushing cheeks, rubbing his shoulder slowly. "No more than I'm making fun of myself for sounding like a wonton Victorian who just caught sight of an ankle for the first time."

His laughter betrays how offended he is at the idea, "Stoooop…"

"Mmmm, I don't think I will!"

Time to take things slow.. that might top your list now. If it means more nights with your hero draped in your arms, then the promise of time spent under his attention beats out any other remedy you’ve found so far. 

𝟏𝟔 | 𝐇𝐞𝐦 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken."

cw blatantly suggestive, an accidental kiss and the panic that follows. bkg doesn't know why he's been looking for you. you couldn't be angry about it if you tried. laughter, bite marks, magic, a warm hiding spot. 8.1k

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A slap across the face and the spatter of blood that follows in an arc across fine rugs. Bakugou bleeds when he tries not to think of you. You are too easy to be with and too difficult to find.

Your prince and fragments of rehearsal fineries that you would beam at if you appeared in this frigid foyer– which he knows only because you’ve done nothing but smile at him for seven cursed days– storm towards warmer hallways. There’s nothing for it but to track you down. He wakes up and you are not outside his door. He eats and meets and eats again and you do not materialize behind him or emerge from shadowed corners to brandish a weapon when unpleasant lords are unpleasant. Are you still following orders or are you finally sick of him?

Bakugou pretends he is not walking quickly. A maid has pointed him in your direction. The waitstaff here has no particular affinity for either of you, so they’ve tried their hardest to answer his questions this week and be rid of Alderans for the day. After all, once he finds you he doesn’t bother anyone else until dawn.

Find is a strong word, the maid thinks as she chews a dry lip. You don’t seem to be hiding from him.

It's the busiest morning, second only to tomorrow’s actual ball, and Bakugou has spent the whole of it in dress fittings and board meetings and appetizer tastings. He was meant to rehearse the first waltz with Fuyumi but for four days in a row she’s had her hands full with final adjustments to royal rosters and seating arrangements. The king is home afterall. And he does not dote on his daughter.

Bakugou turns up a second staircase once he arrives in the center castle and barks at a guard, stationed and startled, in the doorway where he emerges. Shinsou clutches his chest and stares at the imposing prince, heavy but silent.

“Boo. You seen my captain?” Bakugou only half-waits for a response from the apprentice before following his intuition to the left. You like to hide in odd places.

“Yeah,” Shinsou breathes and finds his position again, “carrying her lunch to the catwalks.”

Bakugou grins and hopes you can feel him wherever you are, rolling his eyes.

She was in common clothes– I think, headed towards the throne room.

Haven’t seen her, sir.

Your Alderan? It’s freezing, she should request a jacket from the supply corps.

Five days ago he found you rehousing spiders in the rafters of the greenhouse much to the chagrin of delicate flowers. Two days ago he finally spotted you among a dozen soldiers all helping the blacksmith resilver the inlay of the soldier quarter’s door. Yes, he’d told you to leave his babysitting to Kirishima but he didn’t expect you to listen.

Yesterday, Bakugou caught you wandering through the ninth-story walkways, the walkways sculpted onto the side of the castle like wasp nests where the archers hide. Your fingers, red with cold, gripped the hem of your padded tunic and your back pressed flat to the white castle marble even as you craned to gaze the city and sea over the edge of the balustrade.

Your prince almost screamed when he glanced out one of ten thousand pale windows in his search when instead of the depressing gray sky, it was your braids whipping in the wind outside, several stories higher in the air than he would have liked you.

“Eyes!” He jerked the window open and stuck out his head. 

“The marble is too smooth Highness, please stay inside.”

White pointelle curtains rattled on their rods with the ferocity of the afternoon wind. “Come now,” he’d barked. He swallowed a roar to keep from startling you off the wall. You turned from the view towards his outstretched hand and half a golden body out the little window, and smiled.

You smiled from the cobwebs when he asked you what the fuck you were doing in blue begonias. You smiled at him among the crowd when he mimed flexing from the gallery to mock the blacksmith. You smiled when he caught you practicing sword forms for bored children and again when he and Kirishima joined in. You smiled without thought and he warmed at the sight of it. He laughed.

He laughed when the florist shrieked over a clutch of spider eggs and he laughed when you hammered Aizawa’s door crooked in your distraction. He laughed when Kaminari tried to teach you to juggle apples in potion storage, and very softly he laughed when he found you asleep beside the proofing ovens.

The castle’s vanity seeps into every orifice, it bleeds from the seamless walls and into seed-sized crannies. Family portraits, royal crests, kingdom’s colors, wards against death written in old Takoban like they think this is the only kingdom on the continent where people might live forever. Superstition and agitation nick the Alderan like thorns through cold blue hallways. He itches for forests. On the third floor of the East Wing there is a great open gallery. It hangs over the grand staircase of the castle’s entrance so that an invaders couldn’t so much as piss over the threshold before the legion of soldiers that fit upstairs fired off their arrows.

It was only a matter of time before you found yourself a roost here, warmaster.

He knows where you are. He can hear the king shouting from an open door downstairs and crosses the entrance gallery, bathed in warm sunlight from its volley of windows. It takes him exactly as long to cross as it takes the heat through stained glass to pink his shoulders, and with a perfect golden hue he dips under a doorway to find you perched at the lip of a ledge. You’re always about to fucking fall off something.

You sit cross-legged behind a black railing, picking at the cup of fruit beside you. Your hair is getting longer, wilder, and your braids tumble with white ribbons as you follow the scene below.

The ballroom is awash in afternoon light. Dozens of floral arrangements circle a group with the king dead in the middle, roaring at the gathered artisans. Prince Natsuo is slightly behind him and his neck is an agitated red. You pop a berry in your mouth. You were always going to love the catwalks– the thin system above important rooms that servants use to gauge crowds and light the tall candles. All of tomorrow it’ll be crawling with footmen but today you sit comfortably alone in its shadows and watch.

Tension melts from his veins when he finds you and nothing replaces it, so Bakugou isn’t quite sure what he’s thinking when he slips inside to be closer. Jeanist taught him too, he can be quiet. You wipe juice from your lip with your thumb and polish it clean with a lick. You run your fingers through your hair to push your braids behind your shoulders and focus again on the agitated king and his crying arachnophobic florists.

“You stare like the best of ‘em,” Bakugou whispers as he drops behind you and cups a hand over your mouth in case you make a startled sound, although, you react before he actually finishes the thought or announces himself and jerk forward to catch his gentle hand with your teeth.

King, prince, artisan, maids, seagulls, and dustbunnies pause their meeting to interrogate the ceiling, before continuing their jury over the fate of the party decorations. A whiff of caramel is the only thing that keeps you from breaking the hand with your bite and just as quickly as you attempt to reveal the intruder through pain, you swing your arm around to cover the prince’s mouth before he gives away your position with a yelp or fireblast. The momentum flattens you both.

Maybe one day Bakugou will remember that you are filled with the same fire that he is before trying to bother you. When did the urge to bother you even occur to him? Both of you, square on your backs to hide properly in shadows, hold a hand like a muzzle over the other's mouth. He smiles first this time. You smell like blackberries.

Your prince wires his jaw shut when he laughs in the shadows to keep from kissing your palm. In the seconds that the king and his entourage fall silent, Bakugou can only just barely contain huffs from his nostrils and the wet at the corners of his eyes. You stare like always and he must have melted fast enough because horror and apologies haven’t tumbled out of you yet. His dragon’s nails have gotten longer. Loose and wild hairs frame the face he only ever knew as perfectly kempt and unreadable. He cannot stop finding new things to notice here on the itchy rug beside you and he’s grateful you have only covered his mouth because his firebrand eyes gleam when you succumb to your own smile. Immediately your lips to stay quiet the pair of you swallow stupid mirth in the dark.

Where did his anger go? “Ow,” the prince rasps when he’s collected himself and pulls your hand into his.

“Excuse me, Highness,” you whisper back. Your smile still rattles him like a blow to the side of the head. Bakugou rolls onto his back. If you were sick of him you probably wouldn’t lay so close.

He tilts his gaze back to you, “What are you doing up here?”

Watching, you mouth, hoping he'll lower his voice. You pull your hand away from his and look over your shoulder towards the ledge where roars and curses roll up from the king like crashing waves.

“Why?”

It’s as close as Bakugou has ever seen you come to rolling your eyes. You blink at him and press forward. Something horribly soft started to grow the night you helped him carry drunk friends to bed. Something like rot. It eats away at the strongest parts of him, the parts of him that are poised and beautiful and ready for war. It’s eating you too. The strongest parts of you that are silent and obedient and deadly.

You drag your body across the floor to be closer to him– so much closer– so close that your thigh practically drapes over his and you cup your hand to his ear so you can whisper an answer that he can’t even focus long enough to hear. Maybe the rot started earlier. Maybe he should never have picked a fight with you.

A sudden scream flies up from the ballroom and Bakugou reacts before you do, less to offer protection and more because he knows you’ll launch right off the walkway if he doesn’t hold you down, but still his hold is protective when the scream is followed by a pillar of white orange fire that flies high and soots crystals in the chandelier. It’s brief and scalding like a geyser and you are not strong enough to protest your prince tucking all of you under his chest in the interim. You smell like home, like forests like moss. The scent of the sea is finally falling out of your hair.

“In what world is this my responsibility?” the king seethes. His drop in volume is menacing and it echoes violently in the empty room, “pick your own fucking flowers, I have work to do.”

The ballroom doors are not meant to be closed or opened with such force and they scream louder than he can when he burns his way through, leaving the prince and his artisans in the cold and terrible hall. A ball in Takoba– an oxymoron. It's a malicious idea. Bakugou leans back on his arm to release you and sits up to watch Natsuo console his workers. The eldest Takoban prince wears patience well. Whose idea was this party? The same person who sent for Enji? Belligerent. Bakugou hasn’t seen the queen in weeks.

He grumbles before he turns to look at you, “Missed what you said.” But when he does finally look, you are so much Alderan that the cold of Takoba falls off his shoulders like frost. Maybe that’s why he’s been searching for you. The fire that only a life in his castle could stoke, ravages the blacks of your eyes. Even though you are silent, he knows what you’re thinking. “Down girl,” he grins and kicks his legs out from under him to settle more comfortably.

Flowers below are picked in whispered consensus and the room empties under your glare. The sun has started to set. The far wall of the ballroom is, in classic Takoban fashion, one long series of windows taller than most houses and the sea shines behind it in a trick of rolling warm shapes like smoke from a fireplace. You both linger at the edge of the shadows up on high. Bakugou watches you shamelessly.

“I will not attack the king.”

“Who’re you trying to convince?”

You think for a few seconds and turn to him with an awkwardly soft air that crumbles into a smile too easily for you to be the same girl who grew up learning how to kill in his castle. Everything you do but fight is bizarre. Like blue fire, he cannot make himself look away from you.

“What’ll you do at the ball?”

“What do you mean?” The ballroom is empty so there’s no need to whisper but neither of you know how to talk to the other.

Bakugou cocks his head and doesn’t need to hope you know when he rolls his eyes anymore because he can finally do it in front of you. He crosses his arms, “Do you dance? I can’t think of anything else to keep you distracted enough to avoid assassination.”

But you are already distracted by something and he can see the moment you stop listening to him talk. All the better, he thinks. He might have just asked you to dance with him.

“Your hand Highness, I– mers–” and you reach forward to take up his bitten fist like touching him is suddenly the easiest thing in the world. Your fingertips are ice-cold. The rot spreads. “You startled me, I’m so sorry.”

Now Bakugou isn’t listening. You rub at the divots your teeth left in the side of his palm and press them like imperfections in pie dough. Your hands are so much more slender than his. So much rougher. Do you feel it too? The death of fury? How the ocean slowly laps at the bonfire until wood can no longer fight back? Do you remember the library like he does? He wants more than anything to sit in a nook and read for a thousand years in recovery from this trip. Is it a safe place for you, or has he ruined it? Do you miss home like he does? Or has he ruined that too?

“No. I’m sorry,” he admits before thinking. He startled you after all, but immediately he is silent with realization. His breath hods fast in his lungs. Fuck, that’s not– you asked him so clearly not to do that. You watch his fingers twitch for a moment like you can feel his heartbeat there and then look up at him and stare. He’s not sorry for sneaking up on you at all. That’s not what he meant.

Eyes was an apt nickname, if not a little mean. Bakugou has never envied telepaths before. How ignorant he was, to think of you as the bloody little girl in a velvet carriage. You hold his hand now with just as much strength as you did all those years ago; obviously it was strength and not desperation. You did not hang laundry to thank him. You did not catch fruit to thank him. You didn’t learn to fight the rain or windows or soldiers or the sea for your prince. It was only him, making magic for you.

“A sheep apologizing to its collie?”

He startles a little, just a slight widening of his eyes, because you hold his hand up to see the ring of teeth clearly and cover your chuckle with the tips of your fingers.

“Callin me a sheep?”

“You are biteable like one.”

Do you know what you’re doing? Bakugou wonders as his own smile escapes the confines of horror. He snatches his hand back and leans against the black iron railing to face you. Quick wit, quicker draw, why do you hide such pleasant things under such a ferocious– the Alderan blinks and his face falls for half a second again in realization.

You blink back because you cannot read his mind, "Are you okay sir?"

The same fire. If he stopped and thought for a single fucking second you wouldn’t have been the enigma protecting his home. You would have been a girl that he wanted, very much, to talk to in his ceaseless boredom. He relaxes into a smile again and this time his teeth glint, “Don’t call me that.”

Autumn truly is crueler at the edge of the world; the sun sets faster with each second and soon the ballroom below is a great orange pool. He was meant to rehearse the opening waltz today and the thought of you watching him, concealed, makes his ears hot. Florals drift up and up from their vases where they’re warmed in dying afternoon light.

You cross your legs and turn too, “Are you looking forward to it?”

“To what?”

“The ball, Highness. Are they fun?”

“You’ve attended balls,” he grunts and scans his memory for the last party thrown in Aldera, although you don’t appear in the pictures his brain conjures up. “They’re fine. Loud.”

You nod. There are ten-thousand things he could think to ask you and a hundred more questions he knows that the answers will spur but sitting beside you in the dark without a threat to either of your lives is new and overwhelming. Your wild hair makes wild shapes.

“Fuyumi wants to dress you up.”

You don’t find that as funny as he does and you’re frowning when you turn from the view of the ballroom to look at him. He thinks you aren’t afraid of him– he hopes– but he knows you still won’t say what you long to for fear of sounding unprofessional. He’ll have to work on that.

“She gave up on Ochako years ago.”

“Is it a gown?”

“Takoban,” he rests his head on the metal too, enjoying all the scandalized expressions your lips make, “frilly lace, the works.”

You consider this for a moment and make the shape of his name before swallowing it. One more time, “I see.” And you turn back away to think some more, about how to phrase something unprofessional.

He’s teasing, he hasn’t seen the damn thing but for a moment your prince can picture you so clearly, sewn tight into a dress made of sealace. You try to speak again, fail, and lean closer. Your breath is sweet from fruit and your bowl is empty behind you.

“I can’t wear blue for another second, Highness. I’ll hurl the tailor into the sea.”

Bakugou spits over the railing in amusement and huffs when he crosses his arms again.

“Highness please,” you chuckle, “I’ll get violent,” and you smile under the frown, which just serves to make you look even more like a dragon– like you’ll make good on your word– and less like an obedient footsoldier. How do you do it? Bakugou can only stare with a rough affection because if he tried to speak right now something might come out.

You run a hand back through your braids to settle them where you like them to lay. It’s draconic, regal, every way you sit perch and glare from the clearest part of any room. His mother calls it King’s Corner, or the Seat of the Queen, that perfect spot where you can see everything important without showing your back to a soul. That’s always where he finds you. That’s your secret. He pinches an ear between his knuckles to try and cool it down.

“Takoba’s lucky you aren’t a mage,” he manages. He has to look away to say it but he does manage, “should thank you for it.”

“I did try,” you don’t need to manage back. Proximity to him isn’t eating you alive. “And I don’t work for thank yous.”

When Bakugou was ten years old he celebrated his birthday in a parlor with boughs of cherry blossoms and sweets for which he never really had an appetite. He was doted on and he worked hard to deserve it so that anything he wanted to do that day, and any birthday thereafter, was his. You were not celebrated with cake. He wouldn’t know until years later that his mother brought you gifts and good food on your birthday because he could find you every day of the year at work somewhere in his castle. You did not fall ill, you did not fail, and on his birthday you, nine years old, practiced forms in the paths between spring orchards just downwind from the parlor. Jeanist was seated inside with him among the family’s guests. No appetite for cake. Bakugou only celebrated ten birthdays and you have never stopped breaking his heart.

“Tried what?”

You ruffle your own hair so you don’t have to look at him either because at least one thing embarrasses you. “Magic.”

“Magic.”

“It’s not funny,” you chirp at his flat tone and round on him with your legs crossed. He leans back when your voice comes out a bit louder than expected and his bitten fist aches when it clenches. “I would copy you.” The rot makes him weak and useless and susceptible to your stare, but the rot makes you fearless. “I used to watch you studying– when we were really little– when we were both supposed to be eating with everyone in the Hall. You used to,” you look briefly to your side like someone important might be watching you acting so casually and it dims that fire he needs.

“Used to what?” he smiles. He knows you watched him, you must know that too. Finish, please finish your story, he wants to hear your voice tell you more about home.

“Used to watch you flail your chubby arms until sparks came out.”

When Bakugou laughs this time he tries not to hold anything back, if only just to douse you in oil and keep the fire alight. Fucking please, just talk.

“I used to try every night too!–” you laugh, slightly louder, “– wind up my arms tight and spin around my room after curfew– disturb the horses– pretend to be a dragon.”

“Your runty prince looked like a dragon?”

You grin, “My runty prince taught himself magic, didn’t he? What’s wrong with wanting to breathe a little fire?”

“I don’t breathe fire, dumbass.”

“You still make miracles. Ever seen a dragon?”

“Of course I have.”

“Have you ever sheltered from a spray of ethereal flames?”

He frowns and smirks, confused, as if to ask, why have you? And the flint tinder in the bright part of your eyes sparks white hot.

“Melting, crushing, it’s completely inescapable without a barrier mage,” you pull your knee up with a bit of theatrics and lean because with everything inside of you except for actual realization, you want him to listen too. “Pink and red, blue, green golden and white hot. Highness, has no one ever told you how beautiful your magic is? You make magic like a dragon, who wouldn’t want a blessing like that?”

No one would want this cursed fucking magic that prickles his palms with sweat in the dark for no other reason than because you are looking at him, when all he wanted was– he just wanted to see you– watch you, he didn’t need you to watch him back and now the fire of Aldera he keeps trying to warm beside will blast him all the way to the wick. This is the flattery he hears so much about from his blushing mother.

“‘s not special. My magic maims people.”

“So do I.”

He frowns deeper, “Not the same.”

“I worked hard to maim people, it’s not the same because what I do isn’t beautiful.”

“That’s not–” he doesn’t think that. Don’t think that he thinks that, “–work isn’t beautiful. War isn’t beautiful.”

“You’ve never seen war. Highness you make–”

“Fuck off."

“I won’t.”

“Eyes–”

“– it’s beautiful.”

“I make bombs.”

“You make starfall.”

Bakugou stares. Rough affection, yeah right, he’s melting.

You fall back on your hips when you realize you’ve broken clear through the confines of professionalism and the embarrassment sets in quickly. Eyes dart sideways, chest and knees turn. Your embarrassment is a subtle grip on fraying rugs. What do you do to your heart to make it pull so strong in every direction? Is it a spell? One that makes him quiet and happy to wait for his silent guard to speak again. This must be how the queen feels. You turn fully back to the rising orange light of the ballroom below and your lips part before any words are actually ready to come out.

The first time you try to speak, he doesn’t hear you. Bakugou traces the path between your shiny scars with his gaze. One below your ear to the one at your eyebrow and down again, past an old cut in your cheek. You couldn’t douse the forest fire behind those lashes if you tried. Not under orders or oath. Not from embarrassment.

“What does it feel like?” You whisper, looking a great distance down past abandoned flowers.

Both of you have fallen closer to each other in the waves of your nothing conversation, so much so that your shoulders would press together if the rot just ate away a little bit more. Bakugou’s heart sinks into the ballroom. It plummets like a drowned man.

“Gimme your hand.”

This is a fucking mistake, but all your prince can see is the last time pure joy ever sailed across your face in an evening spent around your wonderful campfire. He caused and extinguished it with one spark thrown into your cupped palms, the last time you ever tried to make magic.

“I won’t hurt you,” he rumbles even though it kills him to look at you now.

Your side of the catwalk begins to glow at the lips because the sun has set far enough to climb walls towards the ceiling. You glow with it. Pink in a thousand places, ears and throat, lips, because you’re thinking too hard about what it is to be a proper guard and how much it is probably not raising your voice to delight in magic that does not belong to you. The corners of your mouth tremble. Who was it that told you you talk too much?

“Is that an order?”

“No.” Of course not.

You study the details of the itchy rug for too long, in the new light at its edge. Bakugou used to hate hiding up here in the cold but it was the only place the idiot children his mother sent him here to entertain couldn’t find him. He couldn’t be happier now, now that no one but you can see just how hard he flounders without fury.

Your hips swivel back towards him in precise decision then you fold your knees neatly underneath them to get closer. A few white ribbons in your hair seem to catch fire as the sunlight climbs higher and the sun dips lower out an infinite distance. Every mile it is far, is a mile Bakugou can feel in measures of chill. If Aldera is at the center of the world, Takoba is the outer edge and you remind him just how blessed he is when his hand melts at your Alderan touch. You reach and pull both his fists into the space between your bodies from where they lingered in the air.

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t,” he breathes, watching all the shapes your fingers can make together. He’s a prince, this is ridiculous. He sits up tall and stretches his arms out so you don’t need to reach so far, and makes a safe place for your strong fingers, those calluses and scars, to rest atop his open palms. “Don’t call me sir.”

You are looking at him and considering something about his face, or his words, who knows– one of your eyebrows twitches in decision. It’s remarkable how steady your heads are. You are sure of everything you do even when it’s destructive and disruptive and punishable by death.

Laid out plainly like this and stiller than either of you have ever been together, your fingers and wrists, your palms, even your fingernails are so much more delicate than his. Like if he closed his golden fists, you’d disappear. Compared to the princess you have the hands of a farmer, but not a single thought– past how each other part of your body might look beside his– is allowed to rattle through his head when you watch him, straight ahead, and smile.

“Okay.”

He clears his throat. He’s a mage and magic is easy. He’s not going to set off the sweat on the back of his neck. “Don’t be nervous,” Bakugou grumbles to the dark.

You grin and ghost a thumb over damp of his open palm, “Who are you trying to convince?”

“It’s this stupid fucking magic,” he bites. A bead of sweat drips through his knuckles onto the floor and if he’s not careful he might take out half the castle. Prince and apprentice assassinate world’s most fucked up royal family– he can already see the dossier sitting pretty on his mother’s desk.

You’re suddenly in a wonderful mood and you sit up slightly at the beginnings of warmth under your fingertips. He can hear your knees squeak and count your heartbeats in the veins of your wrist that his own fingertips reach. Those eyes again– always your eyes. They’re colored like any normal pair anyone might ever see but he’s one of few people who watch the dragons. You must have watched them too, too long, for your gaze to become so similar.

It feels like any other second of Bakugou’s life. Setting fire to own hands and measuring the strength of his magic in reds and whites. It’s an ordinary moment for many whole seconds until your prince follows the beginnings of light up from his palms, to your starving and unabashed awe. The sparks bubble up as hungry fish would in a pond, and then jump, spit, between your fingers like cooking oil. Your touch is so gentle at first. You train and measure your own skill every day so that Jeanist’s recruits don’t lose varied limbs, but as your excitement wells up you spill a bit from your seams. You rise slightly higher and give him more weight to hold and your prince dissolves into a smile.

Four hands rest inside one another and fire from the dragons illuminates your hiding place.

“Highness,” you whisper and startle a thousand times at every new color Bakugou ignites between your fingers. You’re fully up on your knees now having risen higher and higher to watch his magic as best you can and Bakugou sits on the floor beneath you, rotting.

“Highness what,” he whispers back.

You abandon the thought and jump when a green sparkler squeals through the air between you, and when your prince thinks to pull away your fingers are already wrapped tight around every part of him you can manage. He could have done this for you a thousand times; your joy was always this simple, raw, and unjealous. Purple and gold soar across the highs of your cheeks and hug your jaw. It’s all he can bear, to love this smile and to know that his sweat is plastered across your hands and soaked through the cuff of your sleeves, and so he freezes with the realization and embarrassment and with your last words.

“Highness, thank you.”

He doesn’t have the wherewithal to speak yet. The smile he loves. The magic dies with his concentration and as the sun finally crests your walkway for its fleeting moments of warmth, Bakugou tries to muster something like confidence because you’re looking at him with a softness he didn’t realize you had. Is it overwhelming because he knows you could kill him? Maybe it’s because he’s never wanted to kiss anyone before.

Bakugou’s pomegranate eyes dart up to you, saying goodbye to the last of the light and something like sugar scalds his throat. That new thought is fleeting because your golden prince drains the life from it like a butchered animal– gods, can’t he leave you with anything?

“Told you I don’t bite,” he grins and swallows the last selfish thought to death, “that’s your job right?”

You beam before bursting into deep and hungry laughter in the sun-soaked air above him. Whatever. Bakugou supports you as you cling to his arms and struggle to stay upright in your laughter. You’re overflowing. He smiles and huffs, he can’t help that. He can’t help goosebumps either but you don’t need to know about those and he’ll never utter a word. He still needs to meet the dressmaker for alterations and finalize the appetizers, and make sure the kitchens send dinner to your door.

“Highness,” you breathe like a bird and try to collect yourself enough to stop laughing. You plop back onto your hips, “Highness–”

“Highness Highness,” he taunts. The sound of it will make his ears bleed. Bakugou palms for a handkerchief with one hand and lets you hold his other. You cling to the bite you left there. Your legs overlap. “This is ridiculous,” he chuckles when your joy almost folds you in half, “A real joke might kill you.”

“Let it,” you breathe, canines twinkling, and dip slightly closer, laughing, to press your lips to his.

It’s so easy, you don’t mean to. You are lightheaded in the warmth of the sunset, magic trembles across your sensitive skin and you only want to be closer. Just close enough to bury yourself in that place that is so safe and that fills you with such a horrible comfortable joy–

As Bakugou reaches inside his tunic for something you lean too close. Your chest falls over his lap before either of you remembers that it shouldn’t be like this, that there are a thousand other places your prince belongs and ten thousand rules you have engraved on the meat of your skull to keep comfort at bay. It’s so warm with your eyes closed and his smile tastes like cinnamon. He doesn’t pull away.

You only realize what’s happened after that smile falls dead against your lips. He’s soft against your touch. He’s soft like he’s never fought a day in his life. Your hands hold his beautiful golden head right where you need it and in the quiet, your eyes open to blinding and beautiful sunlight.

A touch is all you wanted, gods know why– they’ll never tell you– and you draw your chin back an inch to breathe. Bakugou is staring violently and his eyes are more like targets now than cherry pits. Eyebrows wider, higher, than the sky, he stares like his heart has stopped. What happened? He doesn’t look like anyone but himself anymore. You freeze.

Prince Bakugou is staring at you until he’s not, on the itchy rug in the sunset of the great black catwalks, until his eyes close and he kisses you back. Soft, closed lips brush so hot they’ll leave a mark, they’ll brand you and everyone will know what you did. The doom spreads quickly.

You have never been so graceless in your life as you are now, falling backwards out of his warmth and stumbling onto your feet. He’s still on the ground and you only know he is holding you because sweat drips from the fingers of yours that he clutches.

“Wait,” he gasps. This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken.

You run. Before you can breathe or be reasoned with, before you hear him call your name, you turn and dash through the back doorway alone. If this were Aldera, where would you hide? The frozen air of the seashell castle whispers straight through your flesh as you, sprinting, stumble your way past the castle’s vanity. There is a nook in the wall of the principal staircase where only Jeanist can find you. There is a seat on a high window in the Great Hall that you can reach with a library ladder. There are two tiny battlements in the east corner of your queen’s castle without a real way to get inside and on any day but a lightning storm, you can wedge a hunting knife in loose mortar and climb the masonry over its edge to lay and nap and stargaze at the tallest point of the most beautiful kingdom. An ant couldn’t hide in Takoba. There’s not one dark seam for the bugs.

A guard barely moves in time to avoid being crushed under your boots because fuck this horrible waterlogged place. The ocean drips out of your ears like tears from a seashell, drop by drop because you picked a fight with the goddess and thought yourself lucky to live before you realized she had made a home for herself inside your heart. Now you laugh with your prince and you touch him happily and you spar with him and hold nothing back and you tell him how much his magic helped you to live.

Resisting the urge to kill him, fighting to win Mitsuki’s favor, the threat of blue fire and a mage you doused in the sea, it was all so much easier than this. It could have been that easy forever, what were you thinking?

“Y/n!”

You weren’t, that’s what being too content gets you.

When Bakugou calls your name again his voice cracks because you are so much faster than he is in slipping through corridors. There is nowhere to hide in this awful country. Why are you running? If you were just slightly calmer you might have known where you were but white windows will always look like white windows and Bakugou is not so slow that you can ever really outrun him.

You duck under a low door and its hanging tapestry and emerge on the other side at the edge of a stretch of empty hall. Setting sunlight pours past ten silver vases and someone left the windows open so lace curtains flow around each pedestal and their silvery prizes.

“Y/n, please.”

Agony. This isn’t what you want. When Bakugou calls to you one last time you have no choice but to face him because he has never begged for anything before, and when you do, tears drip off the highest parts of your cheeks.

He lets the tapestry fall over his shoulder and stops at the front of the long, long hallway. Neither of you speak for an eternity besides the sound of breath being caught again, him at the edge and you in the center being swayed by cold air. His shaggy hair has been pushed back in his rush to follow you and his eyes glow unobstructed. Bakugou’s broad shoulders fit too perfectly into his baubled tunic. It’s easier to watch him than to think.

When he leans forward, you step back, and he pauses like you might start sprinting again. He doesn’t realize there’s something rotten stuck in the depths of your throat that keeps you from straying too far.

“I–”

“Don’t be sorry,” he begs, reading your mind. He’s never looked like this once in his whole life. He fell a step closer in his panic and when you do not run, his fists unclench from where they draw blood at his sides. “Don’t cry.”

You shake your head and he cautions another step. How can you ever go home now? How much longer can you survive here? The thought is suddenly and immediately overwhelming and Bakugou freezes again when you drop your head into your hands. It’s too much, you can’t believe how badly you want to hate him again and how much easier it would be than this.

“Y/n,” he whispers. His voice is candled ash. You know exactly how close he is even with your eyes closed because Alderan fire is unmistakable and you know too that he’s giving you a moment to escape.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Prince Bakugou’s magic-worn hands reach up from where he wires them and you snatch them both, and all their kiln-fired warmth, out of the air before he can touch you like you might break the first finger that moves. You don’t mean to bare your teeth either, you hope you aren’t, if you are he doesn’t care. Your prince stands above you, brows knit and eyes stupid with worry.

“Forget,” you plead in whispers.

He pulls your grip higher so that he can rest his palms under your ears. He moves easily because you do not stop him and he brushes his thumbs over stray hairs and their wild shapes. Silence is worse than his rage, but he’s trembling. He does not look away. He’s studying, contemplating something that continues to break his heart.

“Highness, please.”

Bakugou cups your jaw like it might bruise and tilts your head up just enough to kiss you. He could not care less about broken fingers.

His lips quiver and press just once to yours before pulling back, reconsidering, and dipping into you again. Your hold on his hands and his hands at your throat are melting, shaking, sweating. His chest swells above yours. You melt with him because you have lost your mind and push against the body you know can hold you. It can pull you from a current and throw you over its shoulder. Bakugou can lift you in strong arms, he can make you laugh until not even an order could compose you at your station.

You part your lips to be closer. He tangles his fingers in your braids so that you might take whatever you want. Your prince tastes like his favorite pastries, and Alderan peaches, and gold, he tastes like he’s fireproof.

Wet drips from your bottom lip in the mess of it all, before Bakugou tilts your chin in strong hands to catch what he’s missed. The slick of your tongues, a clicking of teeth, you want to eat him whole. He’s going to devour you.

He holds your face now to move you as he’d like– four feet tripping over each other to find a wall– and you grip at the patterns on his tunic between stolen breaths and steps stumbled backwards. Magic crackles where he touches you. His voice comes out with his gasps in growls because there is too much and nothing to say. You have forgotten apologies.

“Your hands” he breathes between nips for the softest warm parts of you, “cold.”

“The window–” but he kisses you again before you can finish. His hands are shaking, he is a starving dog and still he holds you like you’re going to break. You terrify him.

How long have you wanted this? There’s not enough focus left for your brain to turn its wheel and if there was you wouldn’t have pulled him so close. You suckle at his lower lip because his heartbeat tastes like home and he lets you dip inside again when you’ve had your fill. He fills you with himself in return. Wet, soft against you. It’s clumsier than sparring, and so much warmer.

At the end of cold hallways, where servants bustle and where there is still work to be done, the guard who barely survived your warpath ducks out from under the tapestry. He only wanted to check you were okay, but in the almost empty hallway Shinsou’s hand falls slack and his baton slips from it. It rings out against white marble and your heart stops beating at the same time as your prince. Your wheel groans in its new turning. The guard stares and you bristle.

You do not hear what Bakugou says in your panic but he does not let you go so easily this time. You freeze. You’ll find somewhere to hide in this prison because that is your job and no one has ever done it better than you, and there you will figure out what to do. The last breath you take before attempting to run is shared in the sunlight with your prince and just as you tip in a hint of escape, Bakugou cups your cheeks one last time to keep you still.

Your claws jump immediately back around his. He stares. His eyes are a study over every scar and warm flush, the violence of your sudden caught fear, even the parts squished and wrinkled in his hold. His magic vibrates unlit through your skin for one more second just one more second he takes to look and then he whispers,

“Okay.”

You take off the moment he releases you to deal with the apprentice and slip as best you can around a blue-tiled corner. Seedsized carvings raise their axes and little white waves fall. Sparks fight the chill on your jaw.

You forgo the seaside for fear of worrying your prince again. Manure pools around your pretty white boots because in the stables, horses don’t care if you cry. The ocean swallows the last of the sun and you are suddenly a child again rinsing the blood from her face and into the hay and finding a dark place to hide. Every step is labor. Agitated white stallions complain to you in a line about their dinner and restlessness, and about chickens roosting inside uninvited, and about the woman who has sat here for hours and done nothing to help them.

The port city of Takoba shimmers at twilight under the hill that the stable looks out on. Its waters are silver and beg you to join them on all sides from their great distance. They have the advantage as you turn your back to the view.

When you amble towards the last empty stall, a figure drowning in blue is perched on a bed of straw. She is sickly beautiful and she stares like she hates everything her gaze falls upon.

“Majesty,” you startle and forget to take a knee.

Where you tread carefully in borrowed clothes, the Takoban Queen is happy to ruin her gown sitting up to her hips in straw beside a very plain horse. She runs a brush over the sheen of its black mane.

“Yes?” She sighs, defeated, until she turns to you and cocks her head like she might have expected someone else. Hundreds of translucent layers fall over themselves in her skirt like a flower and catch imaginary light for every inch that she moves. There is an ache so deep in your bones, chilled first then charred like dipping cold hands in hot water, you struggle to compose yourself. You cannot muster the question of why a queen might be hiding in the belly of her stables but you could guess.

“You were crying.”

“Please don’t tell Mitsuki.”

When will you be allowed to go home? The queen looks between her horse and the space you haunt above her, and pulls a second curry comb from the depths of her soft straw seat. “They’ll find you if you stand in the open like that.”

The day drags on like a dream you have made from picturebooks of Aldera and the man that you will never be free of, but queens don’t much mind if you cry either. You crumple into the spot she digs out for you in the straw and until it is too cold, the two of you sit quietly in shit together.

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @kotarousproperty @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl @dreamingoftomorroww @optimisticprime3 @misscaller06 @the-omnipotent-phlowr @king-dynamight @sky-angel101 @faetoraa @sageandberries-png @king-explosionmurder @aqua5ky @idkwhatisgoingon24-7 @midnightprocrastinator @animeobsessed03 @sakurarr1122

could not tag for some reason :(

chapter 10: mr stealyogirl

FUN FACTS!

- if it wasn’t obvious, monoma wants you.

- bakugou left mad after that song didnt even hear the rest of the set LMFAOO.

- todoroki and momo hit it off after the show! go todoroki!!

tags!: @bakuettes @the-hangry-otter @ch3rryjampi3 @therealsatorugojo @twinnintwink @napbatata @redgie-69 @that-one-fangirl69 @kanvis @starlitrays @raendarkfaerie @pretty-sparkle-bomb @candiiee @mirophobic @altgojo @ita606 @djlance-rock @drxgonspine @simp4myself @your-mum3000

katsuki bakugou smau, but he’s sorta got an itsy bitsy tiny little (huge) crush on you

(inspired by those smaus on tt😋)

genres: friends to lovers, fluff, smau

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

masterlist

a/n my first actually smau isn’t just random text memes i got off insta n pinterest😓😭 hopefully ill get around to making more parts for this soon. IT WILL GET BETTER SOON THERE WILL BE PROGRESS TRUST

Pls texts with baseball Bakugou 🙏🏻 I’m actually on my knees begging bruh

please one chance baseball bakugou pleleeaasseeeee

home base // katsuki bakugou

before he leaves [1]

pairings: prohero! katsuki bakugou, prohero! eijiro kirishima, prohero! denki kaminari x reader (female) summary: your prohero husband is being called away to a two-week long mission. this is how he says goodbye.

notes: fluff, mild suggestive content, established relationship (married), prohero husband, it's just really cute and sweet, I can't say much more.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: for @onlyisaa becuz apparantly putting bakugou in a timeout is unacceptable

Bakugou’s been called in for a mission overseas. It’s rare, but when it happens, you know it’s something serious. The night before, you couldn’t help but fuss over every little detail. You’d double-checked all of his luggage, then triple-checked it. And now you’re pacing around the room with your mind running through everything he might need. You’d gone over his gear so many times that even Bakugou, usually patient with your worry, had enough. 

“Damn it, woman,” he grumbled, grabbing you by the waist and physically dragging you to bed. You’d protested at first, but he ignored you, muttering under his breath, “You need to quit worrying so much, you’re driving me crazy.”

Despite his words, there was a softness in the way he pulled you into his arms, his grip firm but comforting. His frustration was just his way of masking how much he appreciated your care. He knew you worried because you loved him, but that didn’t stop him from teasing you about it. Even as you lay there, you could feel him quietly shaking his head in amusement, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk as he muttered, "My dear wife, always stressing." 

Still, as much as he tried to calm your nerves, there was a part of him that understood. Missions like this didn’t come often, and both of you knew the stakes. And despite the bravado, despite his confidence, Bakugou knew how hard it was for you every time he had to leave.

It’s five in the morning now, and you’re standing by the door, watching as he slips his phone and passport into his pocket. You stifle a yawn, your voice still groggy from sleep. “How long will you be gone again?”

“Two weeks,” he replies gruffly, his eyes meeting yours. You frown at his answer. Two weeks felt like forever without him. Did he really have to go? Your thoughts are full of protest, but you keep them to yourself.

“Are you sure you have everything?” you ask again, for what feels like the hundredth time. Bakugou lets out an exasperated groan, his head tilting back as he closes his eyes in frustration. 

“Woman, for the last time, yes, I’ve got everything,” he grumbles, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes flick back to you, softening slightly despite the annoyance in his voice. “I’m not a damn rookie.”

You know he’s right, of course. Bakugou’s meticulous when it comes to preparation, probably more so than you are. Still, the thought of him leaving for two whole weeks on a dangerous mission makes your stomach twist in knots. You can’t help it— it’s in your nature to worry. And Bakugou knows that too.

He glances at you, and for a moment, his stern expression softens even more. He steps toward you, dropping his backpack onto the floor and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Hey,” he says, his voice lower now, gentler. “I’ve done this a million times. I’ll be fine.”

You nod, biting your lip, but he can see the lingering concern in your eyes. He sighs, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around you, strong and warm, and for a moment, you can pretend he’s not about to walk out the door.

“I’ve got everything, alright?” he murmurs against your hair. “Except maybe for one thing.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He smirks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Does he really have to go?

“Yes, I have to go,” he grumbles, reading your thoughts as if they were spoken aloud. You groan softly and stay wrapped in his embrace. Two weeks without him. His strong, muscular arms, the ones you’ll miss most, tighten around you as you press your face against his broad chest, nuzzling into him with a quiet sigh. You take a deep inhale, filling your lungs with his familiar scent— the mix of his skin and that faint, rugged cologne you love so much. It’s comforting, grounding, and you cling to it, knowing it’ll be a while before you get to experience this again.

“I’ll miss you.” You softly whisper in his chest to which he chuckles. His arms seem to squeeze you a little tighter. 

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, savouring the comfort of your presence. He’d definitely miss his pretty wife.

You look up, meeting his gaze. His crimson eyes, still soft with sleep, linger on you with that private smile he shows only to you. His sharp features seem gentler in the dim morning light, and for a moment, you both just exist in each other’s company.

Wordlessly, the both of you share a deep kiss. An intimate mix of love and longing. His hand cradles your cheek as your arms loop loosely around his neck. Reluctantly, the both of you pull away. You sigh softly from the loss of contact. He keeps you close as he gazes into your eyes, his forehead resting against yours. The beautiful eyes of his lover. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours in one last, tender kiss before stepping back. You pout a little as his arms fall away, but you know he has to leave.

“I love you,” you say, voice tinged with a reluctant acceptance.

“I love you too,” he replies.

You watch as he picks up his luggage and heads to the car. Standing in the doorway, you call out after him, your voice echoing through the quiet morning.

“Text me updates!”

“I will!”

“And when you’re on the plane—”

“I know!”

“And call me when you get to the hotel!”

“Dammit, woman, I know!” he yells back, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his tone.

Exactly an hour and thirty-seven minutes later, your phone buzzes with a message from him. He’s reached the airport. Twenty minutes later, another text arrives to tell you that he’s checked in. 

Two hours pass, and your phone lights up again with a photo of him and his colleagues on the jet. He looks as sharp as ever, though there’s the usual trace of annoyance in his expression. And next to him were sheepish looking Red Riot and ChargeBolt. His message follows right after: They were late. Typical.

You smile at his grumbling, imagining him sitting there, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. Even from thousands of miles away, it’s like he’s right there with you, sharing his usual complaints.

You watch Kirishima stretch in the morning light. His muscles ripples beneath his tanned skin as he works out the tension from his body. He’s seated at the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. The broad back you love so much, facing you. Kirishima’s back is adorned with battle scars, each with their own battle-hardened tale. The scars stretch over his powerful frame and you feel rather tempted to reach out to touch them.

As he stretches his arms out to the sides, twisting slightly to loosen up, your eyes skirt over the fresh scratches running along his skin. Scratches you left from the night before. The memory of it stirs something warm inside you, and you can’t help but let a soft giggle escape your lips.

Upon hearing your fit of giggles, he pauses mid-stretch. Glancing over his shoulder with a knowing smirk on his lips. "What’s so funny?" he teases, his voice still a little raspy from sleep, but there's an unmistakable playfulness in his tone. 

“Just admiring my work.” you comment, referring to the latest addition of scratches on his back. He chuckles softly, replaying the events of last night in his head. It was a rather vigorous night. He needed that time with you, though. With a two-week mission ahead, he already knows how much he’s going to miss you. 

He practically jumps back into bed, sweeping you into his strong, muscular arms as if he can't bear to be away from you for another second. His lips find yours in a tender kiss before he nuzzles into the curve of your neck, planting soft, fluttery kisses along your skin. His lips trace over the bite marks he left behind last night, a reminder of the intimacy. 

For a moment, there's only the sound of your steady breathing and the quiet intimacy of the morning. Then, you break the silence, your voice still soft and hazy from sleep. “Do you have to go?” Your hand gently combs through his messy red hair, and he responds with a low hum of affirmation, his teeth grazing your neck playfully, causing a shiver to run through you. 

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough, “but I have to.” 

He rises slightly, hovering over you, his gaze tender as he takes in your sleepy features. His hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as if memorizing every detail. He’s going to miss you—more than he can express.

You're the reason he’s not in the shower yet. The reason he’s still in bed, holding you close instead of gearing up or standing by the door. He’s prolonging every second he has with you, delaying the inevitable because leaving you feels harder than the mission itself. He knows he's late, that he should already be in the shower, getting ready for the mission. His gear should be laid out, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. But here he is, unable to leave your side.

He knows his hero partner will yell at him.

But how could he resist his beautiful wife?

You know he’s running late too, but you don’t care. Shifting up from the bed, you lazily loop your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his warm, broad back. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you settle into him.

“I’ll miss you,” you murmur, breathing in his familiar scent, already knowing you’ll be raiding his closet the moment he’s gone, wrapping yourself in whatever he leaves behind.

“I’ll miss you more,” Kirishima replies, his voice full of warmth. You can’t see the smile on his face, but you feel it in the way his muscles relax under your touch, the way his words come out soft and sincere.

What time is it? You glance at the digital clock on the bedside table. Six in the morning? He's definitely getting yelled at. A quiet chuckle escapes you as you loosen your grip around him.

“It’s six,” you say, a playful warning in your tone.

“I know,” he groans, clearly aware of the trouble he's in.

“He’s going to kill you.”

Kirishima just laughs softly. “I’ll survive—gotta come back to you.” His words make you laugh, and as you release him, he turns to face you with that toothy grin you’ve always loved.

Just as Kirishima leans in to kiss you, his phone rings, cutting the moment short. A loud groan escapes his lips as he checks the caller ID. He glances at you, a dry chuckle slipping out before he answers.

He doesn’t even need to speak— Bakugou’s voice is already blaring through the speaker, barking orders. You can hear it loud and clear, his usual demanding tone carrying through the room. “Get your ass up, Eijiro!” 

Kirishima doesn’t argue, knowing full well Bakugou had already anticipated this. With a quick tap, he ends the call, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand with a sigh. He knew he brought this on himself, but it’s far too early for all that yelling.

“You heard that, right?” Kirishima asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. 

You nod with a soft chuckle, still amused. “Yeah, pretty much. You should clean up,” you hum, playfully nudging him.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Wanna join me?” 

“Eijiro.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, finally getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. His broad figure disappears behind the door, and you roll your eyes fondly, watching him go. As much as he’s procrastinating, you know he’ll eventually get it together—because, at the end of the day, he’s always reliable. Even if he’s late.

Before you know it, Kirishima is already by the door, fully dressed with his suitcase in hand. The image of him shirtless and relaxed on the bed feels like a distant memory as you stand in front of him, sharing one last deep kiss before he leaves. It’s slow and lingering, filled with the kind of warmth that you’ll hold onto while he’s gone. When you finally part, it’s with a soft peck on the lips, and a smile as you watch him step outside.

You wave as he loads his suitcase into the car, and he shoots you that familiar, reassuring grin before the door closes behind him. The car pulls away, and the house feels quieter already.

Two hours pass, and your phone buzzes with a new message. You open it to find an image of a rather grumpy-looking Dynamight, arms crossed and glaring from his seat on the plane. Next to him, Chargebolt is flashing a sheepish grin, holding up a peace sign. You can almost hear Bakugou grumbling under his breath about something ridiculous, probably annoyed with everything around him. 

Kirishima’s caption reads: “Already regretting this trip. Look at these idiots.” 

You laugh, texting him back quickly, already missing him but feeling a little lighter knowing he's surrounded by his friends and trusted co-workers. He’ll be in your arms again soon.

“Five more minutes.” 

Denki mumbles, his voice muffled as he snuggles deeper into your embrace. He’s still in bed, arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging like he’s never going to let go. You let out a soft hum as your fingers comb through his messy blond hair, the strands wild from sleep and so uniquely him. His head rests against your chest, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you look down at him—the pro-hero you love so much, completely content in your arms.

But this is also the very late pro-hero.

“You’re going to be late, Denks,” you murmur, your voice gentle but with a hint of amusement.

He grunts in reply, barely acknowledging your words as he shrugs and buries his face even further into your chest, clearly not bothered by the reality of the situation. “Don’t care,” he mutters, his voice rumbling against your skin. He’s warm, cosy, and in no rush to leave. Being tangled up with you is the only thing that matters in the world right now.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “You say that now, but wait until Bakugou gets on your case for being late again.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Denki just huffs, his arms tightening around you as if to say let him try. You know he’s dreading the inevitable lecture, but right now, he’d rather enjoy every last second with you. And honestly, you’re not complaining.

The two of you lay there peacefully, soaking in the morning light peeking through the windows. You’re already thinking about how much you’ll miss him during his two-week mission. It’s not often he’s called away for that long, but when he is, you understand. That’s the life of a pro-hero. And while the thought of being apart tugs at your heart, you couldn’t be more proud of him for what he does.

“I’ll miss you,” Denki murmurs into your skin, his breath warm against your chest as he looks up at you. His toned arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. His electrifying touch trails in soothing circles across your skin, making you feel that familiar buzz only he can give. He sighs softly, like he’s already dreading the distance. At that moment, you realise just how much you’re going to miss the way he holds you. The warmth of his affection that never fails to make you feel safe.

You smile down at him, your fingers still running through his messy blond hair. “What are you going to miss the most about me?” you ask playfully, your tone light, though a part of you genuinely wonders what his answer will be.

He pauses, his gaze drifting downward to your chest, a playful grin spreading across his face. You immediately catch on, rolling your eyes and swatting him lightly on the head. “Denki!” you scold, but you can’t help laughing as the both of you break into soft chuckles.

He rubs the back of his head, still grinning like a mischievous kid caught in the act. “What? Can you blame me?” he teases, but when he sees the look on your face, he lets out a small sigh, shaking his head as if to reset himself.

“Okay, okay,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Real answer now.”

Denki’s lips curl into a smile, but his eyes stay soft, thoughtful. “Everything,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “The way you smile at me when I walk through the door, the way you run your fingers through my hair like this…” He trails off, propping himself up on one elbow.

Looking deep into your eyes, his usual playful energy is tempered by the sincerity that only comes out in moments like these. “I’m gonna miss the way you make everything feel... normal. Like, when I’m out there, saving the day and dealing with all the hero stuff, it’s easy to forget who I really am sometimes. But with you,” he pauses, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes over your skin, “you remind me that I’m more than just a pro-hero. You remind me that I’m enough, just as I am. That I’m just Denki Kaminari.”

His words make your heart swell, and for a moment, you forget about the two weeks ahead. All that matters is here and now, with him in your arms, holding onto you like you’re the most important thing in his world.

Just then, his phone rings, interrupting the peaceful moment. As Denki picks it up, you glance at the screen and catch the time—half past six in the morning. Oh, he’s much later than you’d initially thought. It’s not Bakugou calling, but Kirishima instead. You can hear his deep, concerned voice on the other end, “Dude, get up. He’s already pissed.”

Before the words even fully register, Denki’s already scrambling, bolting upright and pulling on his boxers in a flurry of movement. The sudden shift from lazy cuddles to frantic dressing makes you burst out laughing. He’s rushing so fast that he practically trips over his own feet as he throws open the closet doors, rifling through his clothes in search of something to wear.

“How did you know I wasn’t already out the door?” Denki fires back at Kirishima, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while simultaneously struggling to put his clothes on. His words are defensive, but the slight panic in his voice gives him away. He’s juggling a pair of pants in one hand, sliding them on while trying to pull a shirt over his head with the other, looking every bit the chaotic mess you love.

You can’t help but chuckle at the scene— Denki hopping around, trying to get his pants on without losing grip on the phone or his dignity. "Because if you were, you wouldn’t be half-dressed and panicking right now," you tease, watching as he stumbles into his shoes, still fumbling with his shirt.

Denki flashes you a sheepish grin, clearly caught, but he doesn’t miss a beat as he finally manages to get his pants on properly. “I was about to be out the door,” he mutters into the phone, knowing full well that no one’s buying it.

“Tell him I’m—” Denki starts as he finds his packed luggage. Thank god he packed the night before. 

“Already on your way?” Kirishima cuts in with a laugh. “Yeah, you can tell him that yourself. You know how he gets when we’re late. He’s already chewed me out. Hurry up man or you’re next.”

It’s hard to hold in your laughter at the situation. Denki shoots you a panicked glare as he starts moving out of the bedroom. “I’ll be out in two seconds!” he says into the phone, though both you and Kirishima know that’s a lie. 

You shake your head, still laughing softly, as you follow him out of the bedroom. Amused by the whirlwind that is your husband in a rush. He’s darting around the living room, frantically patting down his pockets to make sure he’s got everything. The sight is pure Denki— chaotic, yet somehow endearing.

As he’s about to bolt out the door, you catch sight of his passport sitting on the kitchen counter. With a smile, you grab it and walk over, holding it out to him just as he turns in circles, looking confused. “Looking for this?” you tease, waving the passport in front of his face.

His eyes light up with relief. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Before he can rush off again, you grab his arm and pull him in for one last peck on the cheek. “Be safe, okay? And text me when you land.”

He flashes you that playful, electric grin, eyes twinkling. “Promise. Love you.” Then, with a wink, he’s out the door, shoes half-tied, practically running to avoid Bakugou’s wrath.

You lean against the doorframe, still smiling as you watch him disappear down the street. Even in his frantic state, there’s something about him that makes you fall in love with him all over again, every time.

Two hours later, your phone buzzes with a message from your husband. You unlock it to find several crying emojis, and you can already feel the laughter bubbling up before you even open the image. When you do, you’re greeted with a snapshot of chaos: a very pissed off Dynamight, glaring daggers at Denki, looking ready to lunge at him. Red Riot is in the background, struggling to hold Bakugou back, his arms wrapped around Dynamight in a full bear hug, clearly doing his best to keep things under control.

Denki’s sheepish grin isn’t doing him any favours either. His expression is simply the statement of "I'm in trouble". You stifle a laugh as you text him back. 

a/n: there will be a part two of this with deku, shoto and sero! I only had energy to write these three idiots xP

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

SHE LOOKBOOK RELOAD 0.1

first outfit

DRESS SHOES BAG

second outfit

TOP SKIRT BAG HEELS

third outfit

TOP SKIRT BLAZER HEELS

fourth outfit

DRESS EARRING BODYCHAIN

fifth outfit

LONGSLEEVE LEGGINS LEGWARMERS SKATES

sixth outfit

FUR ROBE LINGERIE HEELS

seventh outfit

TOP SKIRT BAG HEELS

eighth outfit

SWEATER PANTS SNEAKERS BAG

CREDITS \\

@kikovanitysimmer @sunberry-sims4 @backtrack-cc @sentate @caio-cc @cocogamess @cool-content-star AND OTHERS

Deku’s Type!

Masterlist

Tags: 18+, Sfw-ish, short drabble, fem!reader, aged up! characters, teacher! Deku, kinda vulgar and fucky, im gonna tag misogyny, reader is implied to be “fucked in the head” whatever you want that to mean ^0^!

The boys gather round for drinks and discuss the type of women Deku seems to be fond of, much to his dismay…

“Sounds like Deku’s type,” Katsuki says, smirk in his voice.

Izuku frowns. “I do not have a type.”

Now that makes the table still for a second, not long enough for Izuku to predict the thoughts of his friends, but enough for the rest of the guys to come to the same conclusion.

Katsuki, Denki and Sero are the first to burst out in laughter. Katsuki’s cackle the loudest of them all.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Katsuki laughs so hard he doesn’t even care that Denki is half laid over him, “You don’t see that shit?”

“Come on…” Denki says, still slapping Katsuki’s thigh as he laughs, “you have such a type!”

Izuku frowns, sterner, deciding to ignore the immature three and turning to his other friends for support. Both Iida and Shouto look away, their expressions telling.

“I do not have a type,” Izuku reiterates, firmly.

Katsuki shakes his head, finally shoving Denki off him. “All those girls you’ve dated? Exact fuckin’ same.”

Even Tokoyami turns his head, eyes never leaving his drink but a twinkle of unfamiliar mirth evident within them.

“What does that even mean?!” Izuku exasperates, looking around for a single ally.

“It means,” Mineta chimes in, and although Izuku enjoys his company, he already knows he’s about to hear something deplorable, “you like them sick in the head!”

Shouto can’t hold in his sputter, finally contributing to the conversation— with a laugh. The rest of the table is hooting, a few groans at the wording but nothing at the sentiment. All while Izuku looks absolutely scandalised, clutching his chest, eyes wide open.

“That’s horrible!” Izuku cries, so stunned he can’t even trail off into one of his signature rambles in defence, “that’s- that’s. What?!”

“All the girls you’ve liked man…” Sero starts, “they’re not exactly little miss sunshines are they.” He stops, which Izuku almost takes reprieve in until he continues, “you seem to like them a little off putting.”

“Yeah so he can fucking fix them,” Katsuki snorts.

“It’s your saviour complex,” Denki adds, chin tilted up, trying to look profound.

Izuku is quick to interject, waving his hands around. “You’re the pro heroes.” The poor boy tries his best to convince. “We all have saviour complexes!”

“Not like you do, mon chéri,” Aoyama tuts, then winks before saying, “Hero of Japan.”

“Izuku, They do still call you an honorary pro.” Shouto is trying to be nice, Izuku thinks. “And I’m sure your students think the same.”

Izuku grimaces, he knows he’s always had a complex that encompassed so much more than just his dreams to be a hero, but he doesn’t need it sullied by… that.

“Don’t ruminate.” Katsuki presses a drink into Izuku’s hands. “You like women a little fucked up, so what.”

Katsuki’s words do nothing to comfort Izuku, instead it has Denki and Mineta laughing all over again while Kirishima attempts to calm them down. Iida scolds Katsuki a little, doing a half bow in apology to the passing waiter clearly peeved by all the noise. Deku pays no attention, beginning to spiral in his head.

It feels wrong to view you that way. To view the women he’s loved that way. But he’s not an idiot, maybe a little blind at times but now that the proof is there— oh god—

“Listen, Midoriya, I am sure there are many reasons you have loved the women you have.” Iida notices the growing dread upon Izuku’s face. “You also like to save people. There is nothing wrong with that.”

Tokoyami and Shouji nod in agreement, Ojiro giving his own sympathetic smile.

“Yeah bro.” Kirishima raises a fist in camaraderie, though it’s definitely out of pity. “It’s manly to want to care for others.”

“Think he more than cares for ‘em,” Katsuki slickly adds, in an artful voice that Izuku is more that familiar with, “the fucker get off on that shit.”

This time, it’s Shouto who scolds him, Katsuki’s implications clear enough for even him to catch on. They rest of the guys begin to bicker in the background, one half in defence of Izuku’s less than innocent tastes in women, the other intent on making fun of the golden boy for once.

Though the attention is finally off him, it does not help Izuku feel any better.

Because there’s a thought that lingers… it’s a sick thought, a terrible, horrible, awfully honest thought.

Shit, he does like them a bit fucked up.

My truth is i still don’t know how to punctuate dialogue… pleek don’t look and none of dat…

Anyways I kind of wanna elaborate on Deku’s hero complex coming out in other ways in the 8 years of studying and becoming a teacher, like someone has to deal with it…

b.a.s. // katsuki bakugou part two

when you two belong together after all

a/n: does this need a part 3? do we need a bakugou confession? do they deserve a happy ending? lemme actually make ochako and yn become bffs and have them make baku uncomfortable as shit while im at it lmaaaooo

part one

13 hours // katsuki bakugou smau

when you're abroad for an internship and he's starting to lose it