Cascade05 - Tumblr Posts
Being a writer is so funny cause I'll just be sitting, stuck in a daydream—as per usual—and I'll think ‟that would be such a cool story‟ or ‟that would be such a cute drabble.‟ Then I sit for a little longer until I realize—oh. I'm a writer. I can write this. Then I don't.
This is basically a shitpost and it’s gotten more attention than a few of my better posts and I just want to say I respect that
I just want you to know that if class 1-A had to pair up for sit-ups, I would be with Bakugo so I could sit on his feet and rest my arms on his knees. Then I'd rest my cheek on my arms with a smirk and watch the flustered blush on his pretty face deepen each time he rose up—inches from my face. He'd finally be all ‟The hell are you doing?‟ And I'd smile, rising up a little to meet him as he came up from another sit up. He'd act tough but we all know his heart would be skipping like the classic school girl with a fat crush and he'd pout, lips inches from mine. I'd tilt my head to make that space a mere centimeter then, I'd flick my eyes up to his and smile. ‟Your feet smell like ass.‟ And I'd run away as he tried to kill me.
I would love to tell you all that I've been busy writing—like a good little unpaid author—but you all deserve the truth and that truth is... I have been... distracted...
Fun My Hero Academia Headcannons I Have
(Most of these are probably gonna end up in my story btw)
Tokoyami works at his parents' flower-shop whenever they need help and he never used to like it all that much but it's kinda grown (haha) on him. His favorite flowers are like deep purple daisies. That's why him and Shinso are friends cause he likes his purple eyes lol. (Also cause they like to silently coexist together and read poetry)
Koda loves volunteering at the local animal shelter and started when he was like 10. However, he was too scared to do it on his own so his childhood bestfirend Shoji decided to volunteer with him. They both volunteer in their free time together now.
Ochako hates and I mean HATES Alexa. Ya know, the Amazon at home assistant person. She doesn't have one but she visited someone who did (Like Yaoyorozu or somn) and Alexa just started talking randomly and freaked the girl out. So now the brunette is on high alert around the device and will tell her to shut up if she ever starts speaking. It's like a one-sided rivalry.
Bakugo not liking sweets is partially true. He doesn't like them all the time, but when he's in the mood for them, the boy will eat a whole ass wedding cake, kay. He loves food and experimenting with flavors and whatever. Also loves cinnamon cause that just makes sense. He is always happy to have a cinnamon treat. He loves those nasty cinnamon candies that old people eat. He's a grandpa.
Ida used to hate orange juice but because of his quirk he needs to drink it a lot. I say he still doesn't like it that much but, ya know, a hero's gotta do what a hero's gotta do.
Kirishima loves the smell of baby powder and I don't know why. He just does and he will powder himself after every shower because I said so.
Tsu loves crocheting and knitting. She makes the cutest mushrooms and gives a lot of them to Todoroki because he thinks they're cute but doesn't really know how to tell her that. She also taught the girl's how to crochet cause they love the mushrooms too. Honestly, everyone loves the mushrooms cause how could they not? (Aizawa is secretly a big fan of them. He has a couple floating around in his sleeping bag)
We don't like him and we probably all hate to think about it, but, under the wretched perverted mess, Mineta is a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on hopeless cause that boy ain't getting a gal if he keeps up his ways. Deep deep deep deep DEEP down, he wants to change and, when he gets older, he will, I hope... Maybe he'll find a nice girl who sets him straight and helps him grow and move away from his perverted ways? That would be nice.
Midoriya likes the Backstreet Boys cause Inko loves them and they bonded over that all of the time when he was little. Now whenever they're cleaning they have fun jam sessions. It's the cutest thing in the world and also low-key cringey but, ehh, who cares?
Jiro likes to pretend she hates romance but she secretly likes the thought of it. However, seeing people kiss is gross, but imagining it is different... for some reason…
I have been hiding this for a long time and I am sorry to everyone out there who disagrees but I—respectfully—hate the pet name ‟teddy bear‟ and thinking of Bakugo saying it makes me cringe.
Me : *Casually reading bnha posts on tumblr, searching for inspiration*
Tumblr : “Things Bakugo does while fu$&ing you!”
Me : *screeching*
I want to see more fanfics about Bakugo and his pretty s/o who looks like actual ass in pictures. Like, there are plenty of people who are not photogenic and think we need to address this.
Bakugo : Oi, dumbass, look over here.
S/O : Wut—
Flash
S/O : ...
Bakugo : ...
S/O : Did you just take a picture of me?
Bakugo : The hell is wrong with your face?!
Hehe, I like it
Honestly though, Bakugo would probably get really pissed at the camera.
Bakugo : This thing's a piece of shit.
Bakugo : Damn camera making my s/o look like a horse
Beauty's in the eye of the beholder or whatever, right? So how about Bakugo with a s/o who always looks awful on photos but he manages to capture perfect photos that make them look stunning.
S/O : I hate photos.
Bakugo : Just one princess.
Playing House
With Bakugo Katsuki
Warnings : Unedited, Gender Neutral, Swearing, Housework (eww)
Bakugo Katsuki is very particular with certain things.
He won’t let you fold his laundry or make the bed cause you always ‟do it wrong,‟ whatever that means. And he insists—demands—on making certain dishes. Usually the ones that require a certain amount of spice (in his opinion), otherwise you're free to make what you want.
Bakugo also prefers to do dishes, he's a freak like that. There's something therapeutic about it for him, I guess. You really don't mind and give very little argument against it. However, if he's (1) tired, (2) injured, or (3) if he made dinner, you won't let him.
Yeah, you both full on argue for way too long about who does dishes and we won't get into that. Usually, you can annoy the exhausted blond enough to get him to fold. Usually. Because there are times where Katsuki—bastard that he is—will fill the sink with boiling water. I shit thee not, boiling flucking water cause his hands can handle it.
Yours can't, his can. That's the point. The little fuck is just that petty.
Obviously, that means he has to wash dishes since you can't even unplug the sink. He smirks at you while you glare from the table (he doesn't let you dry dishes either.)
One time you got these heavy duty rubber gloves and unplugged the sink while the cocky ash-blond was shitting. Seeing his smirk fade into a confused kicked puppy look was priceless.
Whenever Mob Psycho releases new openings or art, I am just reminded how much I love Reigen Arataka 😔
Just thinking about Bakugo Katsuki and reader babysitting a babbling infant for whatever reason and Katsuki left to go cool down because the kid won’t stop crying and holy fuck is it annoying. He comes back into the house and hears nothing so he quietly makes his way to the nursery to see reader singing so softly and so prettily and the baby is almost as mesmerized as he his and, yeah, he’s still a high-schooler, but Bakugo Katsuki wants absolutely no one else as the future potential mother of the kids he may or may not have because parenthood seems like hell and he’s only been doing it for a few hours.
I was thinking bout Bakugo with a s/o who wakes up earlier for work than he does. I feel like he'd wake up at like 4:30 maybe? At the earliest??? I dunno. But I wake up at 3:20 in the morning (I'll let you guess what job I have lols) and I feel like if Bakugo didn't know his s/o had an early job and he spent the night only to find them gone at four freaking thirty he'd be like ??? Did they fall under the bed?? Were's my s/o?? I just feel like the surprise on his face would be funny, ya know? That leads me to my next head-cannon, Bakugo Katsuki probably (usually) falls asleep immediately and sleeps like a rock. Unless there's a scream or somn', man's wired like a hero what can I say?
So, Elvis Presley (love Elvis btw) sings a song called Teddy Bear and the whole Bakugo calling his SO teDdY BeAr thing has made me hate that song. My sister was listening to it the car the day I wrote this post, actually, and I was just sitting in the passenger’s seat CRINGING!
I have been hiding this for a long time and I am sorry to everyone out there who disagrees but I—respectfully—hate the pet name ‟teddy bear‟ and thinking of Bakugo saying it makes me cringe.
There are very few power moves as powerful as someone tickling you during a play fighting match and you just watching them straight faced because they are a fool and you are unbeatable
I dunno if this is already a thing, but I think we should start a trend where someone writes a short story but leaves it open ended then someone reblogs it with a small continuation and we just let it keep growing and see what happens…
DIY (Independent S/O Idea)
I see so many posts about Bakugo who takes care of his s/o and it’s cute and nice, but what if he was dating or married to someone who liked being alone and was used to taking care of themselves?
Warnings : Some language, unedited, also this is way longer than I thought it was gonna be, reader has a big-ass dog, ummmmmm... think that's it
☾ This is a little self-indulgent so bare with me ☽
So, before meeting Bakugo you lived alone. Maybe you had a dog or maybe you had a cat or a lizard, I dunno. Point is, you lived alone. And you liked it that way. You had grown up in a pretty full house without a moment of peace—which was fun and enjoyable sometimes—so, growing up, you knew you never wanted to live with another person EVER again. That also meant you wanted zero romantic relationships because no.
A romantic relationship involves two people who were willing to give to each other. Be it time, energy, or just a listening ear, they would give of themselves to their loved one all because they, well, loved them. You could give. You were very good at giving. Ever since you were a young, blubbering toddler, you gave things to others because it made you feel good to know they were happy. When you are older, you gave other tings—time, energy, money—you were very good at giving.
It was the taking part of the equation—the asking for help and support and love part—that you knew you'd struggle with. People said you could learn but you didn't want to. As a kid, you had spent your whole life giving, but people rarely gave things to you—toys, little gifts, sure. You got those things often enough, but the deeper things in life? The things that were a little harder to give? A listening ear? Empathy? Patience? Support? You didn't have a lot of that. So, you gave that to yourself the best you could because you were good at giving.
You were more independent than most and you were happy like that. You didn't want to learn how to take because you were more than content being by yourself, thinking by yourself, living for yourself... That sort of thing wouldn't be fair for your s/o and it wasn't like you wanted an intimate relationship so you remained single—a virgin in every physical sense of the word.
Then, he showed up. (Hehehehehehehehhehehehehe)
It was a normal evening for you. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on, you didn't feel weird, and your giant fluffy dog (self-indulgent, I know 😔) was lounging about at your feet while you worked. Normal. Your online business was going very well—yes, I'm talking entrepreneur kind of independent—and the ac was blowing the perfect temperature so things were normal—they were especially good, actually.
Then, he showed up.
Out of the blue, something crashed into your house—through your bedroom balcony, it sounded like. Your dog (Imma name him Biji (Short for Bijronson)—self-indulgent—but you can name him—or her—whatever, I guess...) Anyway, your dog shot up from his spot because of course he did, you did too. He trotted to the bedroom door—not a happy trot, but a cautious, purposeful one—and stood at it, watching whatever was going on.
You arrived next, eyes widening at the whole-ass man who fell into your apartment—into your life but you didn't know that yet. You knew who he was. Of course you knew who he was. The number two hero was a very noticeable man. He was large, a foot taller than you at least. His shoulder width was ridiculous and only enhanced by his small waste. Such a snatched thing. Truly a Doritos shape worthy of nacho cheese dreams. (Nacho cheese Doritos are mvp, don't fight me)
Then there was his stupidly handsome face. A scar ran down the right of it—from the edge of his hairline down to his upper neck. His light blond eyebrow was missing in the middle and his crimson eye was a little milky. He wasn't completely blind in it, but rumor said he would be soon. Most people said it wasn't a pretty sight but you always disagreed. Not only did it look badass, but it proved he went to hell and was strong enough to come back. Which was cool as fuck.
He was awesome—maybe a little bit of a jerk but you didn't need to like him as a person because you didn't know him a just a person. You knew him as Dynamight. As a hero, and he was a damn good hero. More often than not you would joke with your closest friends saying “If he's not Dynamight, I don't want it.“
“Dynamight is the bar.“
“He has to at least be six-foot Dynamight stature before I'll even think about it.“
Silly shit like that—all of which was just that. Silly. A joke. Never in a million years would you want to date Dynamight or any of the other pros you joked about. Your friends knew that. Everyone would share similar jokes before consoling their poor husbands or wives or boos or whatever because it was just a silly thing. You wouldn't even call what you had a celebrity crush. Dynamight and his companions were hot, attractive people. Simple as that. You appreciated the pictures, kay. And what they did for Japan, of fucking course.
We're getting off topic though. What was the topic again? Oh, right.
Dynamight was in your bedroom. On your bed. Your broken bed, might I add. All while you stood wide-eyed in your doorway, frozen as if you were the one who barged in on him. Then he slowly sat up, running a gloved hand through his sooty ash-blond spikes to rid it of glass. It pulled you out of your shocked state. It was then you realized Biji was barking and had been for awhile.
You moved to grab his collar just as the man stood up from his spot. You had been trying to sush your dog but those attempts came to a halt when you saw the condition the hero was in. Thankfully, it didn't seem life-threatening but, then again, you weren't a doctor and that shit looked like it hurted.
“Uh,“ you began, unsure of how to proceed.
The man looked around your room with what looked like disgust and you almost wanted to mouth off at him for the audacity before you realized he wasn't disgusted the dorky pictures of you and loved ones pasted on your dark walls. He looked confused. He turned around in your room a few times, eyeing the place and muttering confused curses. It was then you began to wonder how hard he had hit his pretty head.
You moved to straddle your strong dog who hadn't stopped barking completely but had calmed just a little. He was still on guard but you weren't scared—he sensed that.
“Hey, Mr—“ —were you supposed to say mr— “Dynamight?“
He looked at you. It was a sharp, unimpressed look and you wondered why until you saw his eyes dropped to your ramen pajama pants. The ones that said, “send noods.“ Not that they were embarrassing at all, you told yourself.
The man gave you and your barking companion a once over, gaze lingering on the large black and white dog you were effectively holding back. He looked tired, you noticed. Dynamight clicked his tongue before turning around and walking towards the sizable hole in your glass doors. “Wrong apartment,“ he mumbled and you gaped.
Ruining your beautiful and lovely bed because he was defending citizens from villains was one thing. You could let it pass cause he had a lot more shit to deal with than your glass-ridden floors and broken wall. His agency would cover the damages anyways.
Ruining your shit because he blasted his hot ass into the wrong apartment, however, was a whole other thing. Would he finance the repairs you needed to make? You hoped so but you didn't know, it wasn't during a fight, after all. No, he wasn't leaving until he promised his agency would take care of it. And until he recovered a little because he looked very unsteady on his feet.
“You're leaving?“ was your stupid, shocked question.
He scoffed. You narrowed your eyes at his broad back. Yes, you were enjoying the view and you would've enjoyed it a hell of a lot more if his torn shirt didn't show off his numerous gashes and cuts. Suddenly, you didn't feel like bitching to him about your apartment—you would make him pay for it, but later.
The crunching of glass caught your attention and you realized he really was leaving like that. “Hey, you're hurt,“ you said dumbly because you weren't really sure how to convince him to stay long enough for you to help.
“No shit,“ was his rude—but fair—response.
You huffed in annoyance. At least Biji's barking had stopped and he seemed calmer, albeit tense. Dynamight crashed into the wrong apartment, right? So he was aiming for an apartment in the complex, right? “You're apartment's in this building? Right?“
He said nothing but he didn't need to because you could see the gears in his head turning—could see the realization in his crimson eye. He knew what you were about to suggest but you said it anyway. “Just leave out the door—the actual door, not the one you DIYd,“ you said obviously, nodding to the broken glass.
He looked at said DIY door and grumbled something under his breath. Then he turned to face you. You rose a brow at his glare. It was his turn to nudge his head and he gestured it to your dog. “That flea-bag gonna let me through?“
“His name is Biji—“ “I don't give a fuck—“ “—and he might let you through, so long as you say please.“
The word please must've kickstarted an allergic reaction of some kind because Dynamight's face scrunched up like he swallowed piss. It was oddly adorable and you mentally nodded in satisfaction. If only he made such a face where cameras could catch and immortalize it.
“The hell is wrong with you? You think just cause I'm in your apartment you can order me around?!“
He was starting to raise his voice. Your hold tightened on Biji's collar as the dog began barking again. You took a deep breath in an effort to prevent your own anger from spilling out. “Yes,“ you damn near hissed, tugging Biji back because he was pulling.
Dynamight did not appreciate the answer but you didn't give him a second to bitch about it. “Might I remind you of how you barged in here out of nowhere. I'm not entirely calm and neither is he so, if you want him to be civil, say. Fucking. Please.“
“Be friendly,“ was really what you were telling him. He didn't look like he liked the idea, so you helped him out. “You ruined my door, broke my bed—which people don't get to do until after they take me out for dinner, by the way—“ —he scrunched his face again and you wanted to laugh— “and now I get to clean all that shit up. So, the least you could do is get your dirty ass over here to show Biji that you aren't as much of a threat as first impressions implied.“
A teenager getting his phone taken away—no, a kindergartner getting told to stand in the corner was what the giant hulking man ahead of you reminded you of. With more annoyance than you thought possible, Dynamight begrudgingly drug himself closer to you. He stopped a few feet away—stopping as soon as Biji became a little more frantic.
You gently caressed the dog's side, whispering and muttering calming words to him, promising him the giant man was a friend. Dynamight was allergic to that word too, but he sucked it up—as he should—and slowly removed one of his gloved before holding out the back of his hand to your dog.
Biji wanted to jump out of your hold but you held firm, slowly walking towards Dynamight who rose a brow. If it was in amusement, then you'd shove him out of the conveniently placed hole in your wall. Biji sniffed his hand eagerly. After a few moments, you felt his tail beat against your legs. A small smile spread on your face. “See?“ you cooed. “He's not so bad, is he?“
Biji was too busy sniffing the hero to respond—and he so would've responded otherwise. “Give the side of his neck a nice pat,“ you said softly. “It'll reaffirm you're friendly,“ was added when he glance at you in annoyance.
“Still think you can order me around,“ he scoffed, but much more softly then before.
“I do,“ you responded immediately, “so pet him.“
He hated it, you knew he did because why would a man like Dynamight like being bossed around by someone half his size? But the man gave Biji's long hair a gently pat anyway—not before wiping his hands on his pants, you noticed.
Both of you left the room after and you closed the door behind. “Unless you're scared of dogs, I'm gonna let him go.“
The man said nothing in objection—or anything at all—so you released the beast who ran up to Dynamight immediately. “He might jump so—“ and he was already up, paws on Dynamight's large chest and tail wagging eagerly.
“Biji, down,“ you ordered, gently tugging his collar when he went to jump again.
“Uh,“ you pointed down the hall, “door's that way.“
And off you both walked. No one said a word which gave you a moment to remember the hero's injuries. “I have first aid stuff, if you want it,“ you ended up mumbling because of course he would have his own medical supplies.
“Sure,“ he mumbled back, a rough but oddly civil sound that threw you off guard.
Maybe he was almost out? He probably had to patch himself up a lot. “I, uh, I'll go get it.“
And you did, entrusting Dynamight to Biji's care. You went to your bathroom and grabbed the first-aid kit in record time before returning to the entryway, just in time to see the Great Explosion God Dynamight petting your adorable Biji boy. You really wished you and phone right now because no one would believe you.
“Got it,“ you said softly, grinning when he pulled away with a scowl.
“Here you go, apartment buddy. Need anything else? Bottle of water? Painkillers? Anything?“
He didn't say yes or no. He just clicked his tongue before turning around to open your door. You rolled your eyes, following behind to make sure Biji didn't follow him out but also to make sure he got to the elevator fine. You knew he would—he probably dealt with much worse—but, just in case.
“Nice meeting you, love your work but don't make remodeling my apartment a habit.“
He didn't laugh which was his loss cause you were funny as hell. Dynamight gave you one last glance—a very judgy-looking glance before walking off. “See you around,“ you offer lazily before doing a double take.
He was already at his apartment. He was digging out his keys to his apartment because his apartment was—you counted the numbers.
814.
816.
817.
817, and yours was—“Dang, guess we're apartment neighbors, huh,“ you mumbled.
Not quiet enough because he tossed a glare over his shoulder. You chuckled nervously. “See ya 'round,“ you said and you meant it this time.
You retreated into your apartment after. Apartment 818.
It's funny cause I was gonna make like a headconnon bullet point list thing about Bakugo x Independent s/o but it turned into this which is a drabble. A fun drabble that would make a pretty interesting story...
HI I’VE BEEN READING YOUR FICS AND YOUR POSTS AND I LOVE THEM
Well I love you so HA!
Just saw a dog dad Bakugo thing and if Bakugo had a dog and I went over to his house, I would ALWAYS greet the pooch first. I’d be crouching down, arms wide and a big grin on my face while calling out the cutie and only after five minutes of pets would I look up to Bakugo with the most bland look I could muster before saying “oh, you’re here too” in the most deadpan tone. Then I’d laugh like a fool at his grumpy face because pissing him off is not a hobby but a lifestyle.
So… when people go to Starbucks, they sometimes use celebrity names, right? I saw this post on Pinterest (one of those older Tumblr screenshots) and this person said their name was Tony Stark and they ran into someone who called themselves Bruce Wayne. So that happens, right?
Okay, so, imagine you're working as a barista at some place and you get so many people telling you their name is a pro hero name. The amount of Dekus you have served this week is off the charts and you had no idea Shoto could shape shift into forty different people. In all honesty, though, it's funny and kinda the highlight of your week.
This one day, someone comes in and they tell you there name is Dynamight. Not only does the shy smile on his face tell you, no, it's not Dynamight, but like literally everything else does too. Okay, normal. You place the order and then take the next person in line. This person is also Dynamight. This has happened before and, to prevent confusion, you dub this person Dynamight 1.
The next customer is a stoic man by the name David. The two of you connect eyes, both inwardly laughing at the funny little encounter that just transpired. David is dubbed nice David, a name you mumble and the stoic man hums with joy, you think.
Anyway, after David is—well, a large, intimating man which wild ash-blond hair and sharp crimson eyes which are enhanced by his dark mask. You blink up at him, shocked for a moment before your eyes flicker to Nice David. You both share a look of shock before evil grins appear in your eyes.
Then Dynamight orders and you take his order professionally, not gushing or fan-girling—and not breaking down into a fit of laughter despite so badly wanting to. He gives you his name, a gruff “Dynamight,“ and you bite your cheek.
You take your sharpie—you've chosen orange for obvious reasons—and your write what some may consider your final words. You're optimistic and consider it funny. “Dynamight 2,“ you mumble and the man snaps his head around with such a bizzare, pissed off look you can't stop the laugh. You tried, which turned it into a snort and the rage in his eyes exploded (heh) at the sound. You hid behind the empty coffee cup, pinching your lips together as laughter prodded at your chest.
“The hell did you just say? You think that shit is funny?!“
You did. Then you realized he probably thought you were making fun of his recent drop from number one hero to number two. He was bitter about that, it was no secret. You cleared your throat, back to looking at Dynamight with your professional facade. “Sorry sir, it's just that,“ you paused, sharing a look with Nice David.
“Spit it out,“ the inpatient hero demanded.
You looked back it him, clearing your throat again as a laugh threatened to ruin everything. You laughed when you here nervous and it didn't help that you always found Dynamight's reactions amusing. But you had to keep it together, for the other, no doubt, embarrassed Dynamights in the room. “Well, I'm sorry to say, but Dynamight and Dynamight 1 have already been taken.“
“What?“
It was so short, so curt, and so blunt you almost laughed again. You saw the other two Dynamights flinch and you wanted to scream. What were the odds the real deal would come into the little cafe the same time as two of his fans? Ah, if you were them you'd be too embarrassed to get your coffee. But, since you weren't them, well, you were there to enjoy the comedy gold.
Back to Dynamight 2. The man still awaited an explanation, far too confused to be annoyed at your lack of action. You looked at the two other Dynamights who's eyes were glued to the floor. You looked at your coworkers, all of which were hiding smiles by showing their backs to the giant pro—busying themselves with work. You looked at Kind Dave, both agreeing this was one of—nay, the BEST thing to ever happen in your lives. You looked at Dynamight 2, a man so lost and so confused, so unsure of his identity.
“If you would like, I can use a different name.“
“Huh?“ That snapped him back to the present. “Hell no, I'm Dynamight!“
“Yes.“
“So use Dynamight!“
“It's already been used—“ “Then swap them!“
“I can't. That would just confuse the team—“ “Then I should be Dynamight 1!“
“That's already been taken.“
“Just change it from Dynamight 2, dammit!“
“How about Dynamight 3?“
Oh if looks could kill. “Change. It,“ he order slowly, lowly, and most definitely sternly.
You coughed into your hand to hide the laugh. “Alright sir, I'll change it.“
You assumed he was too angry to listen to your new name for him which was his fault actually. He could most certainly not blame you for what was to come because it was he who left you unsupervised and you lived off of the pain of others.
There were no other customers so, you had the honor of handing out drinks. It was with great joy you took that job and you, again with great joy, read the name on the cup out loud. “Dynamight.“
You saw the hero twitch. His scowl deepened and you would've laughed to yourself if you weren't waiting for Dynamight to show up. You looked at the small group, raising a brow when no one came. “Guess he left,“ you mumbled.
One of your coworkers mumbled a response. “I'd leave too.“
You both shared a small snicker.
Then the next order came up. “Dynamight one?“ you asked, fully aware that person has also slipped out.
That meant two free coffees for the team.
Next was “Kind David,“ you announced proudly.
The man, the myth, the legend walked up to your counter and, as the name implied, kindly took the drink from you, giving you a kind nod of thanks. You both shared a look of amusement before he left, giving Dynamight 2 a small nod as he passed.
It was time. You held the large black coffee with a hint of cinnamon and a helping of whipped cream in your hand. Dynamight liked whipped cream, who knew? You didn't look at the cup to read the name. No. You looked straight into Dynamight's narrowed eyes. He began approaching the counter, glare hardening in suspicion. You announced him and he bristled with anger, lip lifting up to reveal his pink gums as he sneered down at you. Such a large man.
“Number two!“ you announced loudly, cheerfully, and joyously.
Boy. You had never seen a face curl up like that. He towered over you and he opened his mouth to give you a pice of his mind. But you beat him to it. You leaned forward, mischievous glint in your eye. “Don't worry,“ you whispered, “you'll always be number one here, hero.“
And it was supposed to be a funny jab, you said it with a teasing look. It was supposed to make him snatch the coffee outta your hands with a glare. But, well, you couldn't control his emotions.
He grabbed the coffee, taking it out of your hand normally. He glared, a comparatively calm glare. “Watch yourself, shorty.“
And you let your mouth drop in a dramatic scoff, about to give his back a piece of your mind, then you see it. You freeze, mouth gaping in actual shock. The back of his neck and the tips of his ears were the slightest bit red. You thought you were seeing things. You rubbed your eye. Oh boy, you were not seeing things.
It was supposed to be a funny jab. You said it with a teasing look. But hey, if Dynamight got all embarrassed, that was fine too. “We'll be rooting for you hero!“ you cheered, again, mildly teasing.
He scoffed but you saw the blush grow on the back of his neck. He sent you one glare over his shoulder and your cat-like grin grew at the pink dusting his upper cheek. Then he left and the cafe was silent before you and your coworkers burst into a series of obnoxious laughs and giggles. You were not giggling, by the way, you were on the floor DYING and wheezing in an ugly, hilarious sort way.
Dynamight was an interesting guy.
Could you imagine if Bakugo Katsuki—little needy stinky boi that he is—was too shy to tell you how he really feels but he couldn’t STAND the idea of being a COWARD so he decides to confess to you in a different language. (I was thinking French cause he hears Aoyama speaking it and he’s all like “Yeah, I can speak croissant, whatever” but you think what you’d like.)
He confesses to you in this language, right, and it’s not just a simple ily or whatever, it’s this super cute super poetic confession he’s been working on for WEEKS! It would be a crime not to hear it, honestly, it’s so out of character and so soft and thoughtful—He says it to your back, mumbling it under his breath like an insult and you FREEZE because, unbeknownst to him, you speak this language and, unbeknownst to him, you also have a raging crush on his fine ass. So, unexpectedly for him, you mumble a response back—a cute little response to his poem and you do it in the language he’s speaking. He isn’t sure what you said, but he recognizes a few words so he KNOWS it was the same language he just spoke and—shjeiehdhrieeimxl! Please he’s be so blushy and embarrassed and so freaking cute!