As Long As I Get Food, Games, Sleep And Whatever I Want I'm Cool... Y'all Can Leave Me Be Cause I Hate

Pumpkin Eater (Kuroo x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Last night, your friend sent you pictures of Kuroo with some girl at a random club. In short, not only was he a liar, but he was also a cheater, and you couldn’t stand to be with him after this.

A/N: Okay, so just to be clear: this was originally going to be a Taehyung (BTS) fanfic but I didn’t wanna mess with my masterlist bc I’m lazy. *This means Kuroo is aged up and a little ooc.*  I also didn’t really wanna ruin my image of him by writing a cheating fic, but I just wanted to write some angst tonight. I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 1679

        You saw them. Pictures of him and another girl at some club. Last night, he said he was hanging out with his teammates, and you had only nodded your head, so innocent at the time. If only you knew, then maybe the pain would hurt less. Maybe.

       The door opens in your peripheral vision while you sit on the couch, back straight and eyes downcast. 

       “How was practice?” Kuroo hadn’t noticed you sitting in the dark room. He flinches at the sudden question. 

       “It was good.” With a small glance in your direction, he halts on his path to the kitchen in search of dinner. “Are you okay, kitten?” 

       “I’m fine.” It’s a lie, and you both know it, but somewhere deep down you wanted one last moment of serenity with him. Just one, before the storm hit, before the skyscraper crumbled, before your relationship ended.

       “Come on, tell me the truth.” He plops down on the couch beside you and wraps a reassuring arm around your shoulders. A bittersweet emotion floods through your system at the action. It relaxes you, but on how many other women did it have the same effect? 

       Your chest is tight and thanks to his proximity, you don’t want to breathe. What if he notices how every intake of air trembles and shivers with what you hope is pure anger and frustration at him, but is actually sorrow and agony? What if he forces you to end this before you have enough time to revel in his warmth, in the love you still have for him? Your mind aches at the flurry of thoughts running rampant. 

       “Okay,” you admit, “I’m not fine.” When his head drops on your shoulder in a comforting manner, you repress the urge to hurl. Please don’t touch me, but please don’t stop touching me. You never wanted to lose him, but it seems he was never yours to lose in the first place. 

       The dim living room is silent aside from the television chattering in the corner. Replayed, forced laugh tracks only deepen your misery, making a joke of your pain. The space smells like the rain Kuroo had tracked inside, the drops having soaked into his hanging jacket by the door and into the pants that rub against your bare legs. 

       “You can tell me anything, kitten. You know that.” Rage bubbles deep in your chest at his words and you yank away from his grip, propelling yourself to the other half of the sofa and throwing him a glare.

       “Can you?” Deep in your mind, you wonder if he has the decency to admit what he did, but you know him better than that. Not once has he ever even admitted to sneaking your last cookie, even as you watched him choke on it. Kuroo’s eyes widen at your words and he nervously shifts to face you.

       “What are you talking about?” he gulps, looking everywhere but you. He bends one leg under the other and anxiously taps his fingers against it, a nervous habit you’d noticed when you first began a relationship with him. On your second date, it was adorable. When he tried to avoid admitting he cheated, it was aggravating. 

       “I think you know what.” Your gaze burns into the side of his skull with just enough pressure that he cracks. 

       “I swear it was an accident!” The confession is weak and rushed, but it doesn’t hesitate to trample all over your heart. Tears sting your eyes and paint your cheeks while you bite your lip to distract from any nonphysical pain. It doesn’t work. No matter how hard you scrunch up your face and clench your teeth, it just doesn’t work. Fury and resentment for his betrayal roll off you in waves. 

       “Oh, so your dick just accidentally slipped right into her?” you laugh bitterly. “What, did you fall on a banana peel?” Kuroo can’t stand your shaky words and he looks to the side with flared nostrils. A hand is now twirling around the strings of his sweatshirt, a movement you’ve been subconsciously mocking this whole time on your own clothes. The clothes you borrowed from him. 

       “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

       “Oh, well that makes this whole situation so much better,” you scoff. “I’m so glad I wasn’t supposed to find out!” Your voice raises to a wobbling yell and he jumps. With a snarl, you stand up from the couch and try to stomp away. His rough hand covers your own and stops you.

       “YN, please! Let’s talk about this!” 

       “No!” you shout in his face, yanking away from his grip and returning to your path. 

       Your bedroom is deathly quiet and cold compared to the unbearable heat in the living room. Thoughts run wild through your head while you load a bag with everything you own. Clothing, cords, anything you use in the shower, it all weighs down the backpack. At last, you’re only missing one thing. But as you reach for your phone on the nightstand, a picture breaks your intense focus. 

       It’s you and him on your five-month anniversary. The amusement park ride you had just gotten off is far behind you two in the background. Kuroo’s frozen in pure joy, beaming at your green face while you stare back at him with adoring eyes. 

       His arms are around your waist, yours are around his neck, and distantly you remember the other pictures from that moment. The one where he had pressed a kiss to your nose, and the one where you had yacked on his shoes directly after. The corner of your lips quirks up at the memory just as a drop splatters onto the frame, soon followed by more and more until it looks like raindrops racing on a window.

       Your sniveling is silent as you hug the photo to your chest, sitting down on the bed. Every breath is trembling and every unheard sob racks through your body. It hurts so much. When the door creaks open, you wipe your cheeks swiftly with one sleeve of Kuroo’s sweatshirt. 

       “YN,” he murmurs, peering in at you. His face is puffy and flushed, much like how you imagine your own. 

       You don’t respond, so he enters slowly, gently making his way over to you. Suddenly, he drops to his knees in front of you and tangles his arms around your waist. You tense at the feeling of his face shoved forcibly against your stomach as he leans over your thighs, crying into you.

       “Please don’t leave me,” he whimpers in a disheveled heap against your lap. “Please don’t do this.” The onslaught of tears causes his body to shiver uncontrollably, shaking yours in return. Eventually, his volume grows. Every regretful moan and howl begins to break you down bit by bit, echoing throughout the house until you finally drop your hands into his hair.  While your own eyes grow wet once more, you tenderly comb through the wild, black tufts.

       “Tetsurou.” He squeezes you tighter and you choke out a sob. “Tetsurou, come on.” You tug up against his scalp but he only shakes his head.

       “Please don’t do this, YN.” It’s a broken whisper, and you feel it more than you hear it. Each slowing breath exhales into your abdomen hotly while he slips away reluctantly. On his knees, he stares up at you pleadingly. His warm, hazel eyes pierce right through your heart while his large hands remain on your thighs, running up and down at a deliberate pace.

       “Please,” he mumbles once again, pressing a kiss to your bare kneecap before nuzzling his forehead against it, fingers trailing down to your calves.  The word slips out of his mouth repeatedly, each one hoarser than the last. 

       Through all of this, your heart races and stutters unsteadily while your head aches from the day you’ve had. You return to brushing his hair to calm him, but your eyes lazily wander to the bag beside you. It’s completely packed. You have a friend in the city you can live with. Your phone is sitting directly on top of the pack, just begging you to call her. You know what you have to do. 

       “I have to.” Kuroo freezes and your chest pounds while you reach for your bag. 

       “Please,” he whispers once more, not moving a muscle from his seat on the floor. You slip out of his grasp and grab your things, exiting the room with a broken heart. Hurried footsteps race after you just as you open the door to the outside.

       “I’ll do anything!” he cries out suddenly, hand slamming it shut. “Just… don’t leave me.” His bottom lip quivers while he waits, observing your every move. Hesitantly, you reach up and cup his face, running your thumbs along his damp cheeks. Instinctively, he grabs onto your hips and closes his eyes blissfully.  

       “I know you will,” you croak out, shaking your head with a bitter smile. “And I’m sorry, but that’s not enough.” You turn and peel away from his grip, slipping out of the house and hiking your bag up on your shoulder. The door gradually closes behind you with a rush of air and you open your phone to contact your friend. 

       It almost slips out of your hands when a loud crash sounds from within your home. A heartbroken sob follows and you try to ignore it while walking away.

Part 2 (Second Chance) 

Part 2 (Never Again)

What about an Alternate Ending to pumpkin eater reader where Kuroo sees Y/n dating someone else months or a year later (maybe she can end up with one of the other Haikyuu characters or something?) Cause I don’t forgive cheaters 😤

Pumpkin Eater (Kuroo x Reader) ~Part 2~ Never Again 

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Last night, your friend sent you pictures of Kuroo with some girl at a random club. Not only was he a liar, but he was also a cheater, and you couldn’t stand to be with him after this.

Part 1

Part 2 (Second Chance)

A/N: Uhhh, sooooo, ermmmm. Here you go…? I hope you like it…? Idk honestly. I mean, I totally agree with you on never forgiving a cheater, but also… my other fic was written so much better. Like I’m tired as hell dude. And I’m sorry it’s late, but I rly, rly hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3335

        Buzz. Buzz. 

        “Good God, is that him again?” 

        “...Maybe.” 

        Buzz. Buzz. 

        “Son of a bitch, YN! Just block him already.” 

        “All right, all right fine! I will.” 

        …

        Buzz. Buzz. 

        “OH COME ON!”

        Terushima throws his hands in the air, giving up. You flush and tuck your phone under your thigh, hoping it will silence the buzzing. 

        It was movie night with your new friend/roommate and he had been seriously invested in the film up until about ten o’ clock, or, as you called it, “Kuroo’s whine time.”

        “BLOCK THAT FUCKER!” 

        You knew he wasn’t wrong. In fact, you should have blocked him months ago. Six, to be exact. But deep down, you just weren’t ready to move on yet. 

        “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I turn it on silent.”

        Terushima shook his head and held out his hand, giving you a pointed look. “Gimme it.” 

        “... Nuh-uh.”

        “YN,” he dragged out your name, leering closer to you. “Give me the phone.”

        “I’m good, thank you.”

        “YN!” Terushima didn’t give you another chance. His home, his rules. 

        In an instant, your back is pushed down against the couch and you’re gasping for air as Terushima viciously attacks your sides with his long fingers. Giggle after giggle tumbles out of your mouth as you curl in like an armadillo. 

        “I yield, I yield!” You hold your hands after the pain in your abdomen grows to be too much. Terushima smiles at the win and he slows his hands, but keeps them on your sides. 

        His eyes glow with… something. Something you hadn’t seen since being with him. 

        But whatever. Maybe it was just the lighting.

        The blond squeezes your sides before slipping a hand under your thigh and locating the phone. Before pulling it away, he pinches your soft flesh, completely uncovered thanks to your night shorts, and chuckles at the squeal that leaves you. 

        “Yuuji!” 

        “What?” He gives you an innocent look while tossing your phone across the room. Thankfully, it lands on his armchair. 

        All you can do is sigh and straighten yourself back up, reclaiming your original position by Terushima’s side and returning your attention to the movie. His eyes stay locked on you, so close, for just a second longer before he copies your movements, focusing back in on the movie with a small quirk of his mouth. 

        You met Terushima a month after breaking things off with Kuroo. He was the only apartment renter who wasn’t a freakshow or a cult leader, and you decided it was high time to get your own place. Especially after your friend, who had hosted you for one angsty, miserable month, kicked you out. 

        “You need to get over it, YN,” she had hissed, shoving your suitcase back into your arms before slamming the door in your face. 

        And while you were still working on moving on, Terushima was a big help. He was now your guy friend, who had many guy friends that could potentially become your boyfriends. But every time you asked him about setting you up with one of them, you were instantly shut down. 

        “You’re too good for them, YN. I’ll help you find someone better, I promise.” 

        It’s been five months, and you’re still waiting for that “someone better” to come along. 

        Now, when you had first moved in with Terushima, he seemed to be a bit of a mess. Clothes, his or someone else's, were always strewn everywhere. Girls were common midnight visitors, always sneaking out with their heels in their hands and giving you bashful smiles before slipping out the door. You would only sigh and roll your eyes. 

        “Your new girlfriend overstayed her welcome this round. I think she stole our Netflix password.”

        Terushima would then purse his lips and avoid your gaze, gulping swiftly. “She’s not my girlfriend. I promise.” 

        “Sure sure. But your one-night stand still stole our password.” 

        Since then, he’s really cleaned up his act. You haven’t seen a girl come over in weeks. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were becoming a good influence on him, much like he was on you. Little by little, day by day, Terushima was beginning to help take your mind off Kuroo. 

        Since the day you broke down in the blond’s arms and admitted you were still stuck on him, he’s tried to help you. He even takes you on “dates” from time to time. Just yesterday you two had gone clubbing, and though you had gotten shitfaced, you figure something weird must have happened since Terushima’s been a tad awkward around you. But then he threw open your door an hour ago, scared the shit out of you, and reminded you that it was movie night. 

        You couldn’t help it. Your eyes were constantly drawn back and forth between the horror movie and the constantly-buzzing phone. 

        “YN look! A jumpscare’s coming!” 

        Just as you turned back to the TV, the serial killer flashed back into frame, leaving you to screech in terror and burrow into Terushima’s side. His arm wraps around your shoulders and rubs your arms for comfort. 

        “It’s okay, the killer’s gone now.” His voice is low and honeyed, accompanying a slight smile as he peers down at you with his affectionate gaze. 

        God how you missed being looked at like that. But you couldn’t get attached. Terushima was like Kuroo, but ten times worse. This was because he wasn’t secretive about his love life. Your very attractive roommate had a higher body count than a war general. 

        So you kept things platonic, no matter how much your body yearned for another route. 

        No. Terushima was your friend. Your best supporter at the moment. You couldn’t lose him like you had lost Kuroo. 

        So even though you cuddled deeper into his side with every heart-stopping scene, and hugged him whenever you were feeling down, and kissed his cheek as a thank you after he would massage your back and scratch your scalp after a long day at work, you would never throw any different labels on your relationship with Terushima. 

        You just couldn’t lose this one. And with him being a player, there was no point in making your feelings more than what they were. 

                                ~~~

        Kuroo missed you. God, he missed you so much. 

        He loved you, and he would never stop trying to get you back!

        That girl, she was a mistake. One Kuroo would never make again, because you were it for him. You were his one. 

        He will call you a million more times, text you, hell even track you down to the ends of the Earth just to have you back in his arms again. 

        He would give everything just to hear you say “I love you” one more time. He would die happy if he got to see those words fall from your soft lips, carefully quirked into a smile, just once. To have you back in his arms, wearing his clothes and kissing only him….

        Fuck. He had to get you back. 

        There was no sign of you at your friend’s apartment when he finally gathered the guts to visit. Only a slap in the face courtesy of one vengeful friend of yours. He knew he deserved it, too. 

        But then… God, five more months passed. Not a single woman had been in his bed, your bed, since you left. Every flirtation was turned down, every grabby hand pushed off. The only person he wanted was you. 

        So imagine his relief when he finally found you. 

                                ~~~

        “Yuuji, do you ever accidentally hurt someone with the piercing?” Your eyes were locked on the ball of metal sitting directly on his tongue while you took tentative sips of your hot chocolate. 

        Terushima sat across from you and smirked lazily, sticking his tongue out through his teeth as blatantly as he could. “Boy YN, you sure do ask a lot of questions about my piercing.” He sets his elbows on the small, circular table and leans closer to you. “It makes me wonder if you ever want to feel it for yourself.” 

        His cologne fills your nostrils, but you don’t mind. It’s become your favorite, most comforting scent. You lean closer and mock his smirk, lowering your voice just enough so only he can hear in the crowded cafe. 

        “I do.” 

        Terushima’s pupils widen in the slightest and he subconsciously leans closer. 

        You do the same, grin growing on your face before you swiftly reach out a thumb and forefinger and snag his tongue, giggling at the surprised yelp he lets out. 

        “YN!” he pouts with a lisp, smacking your hand away and hiding his mouth behind his own. “Why are you always like this?!”

        “I don’t know Yuuji, it must be your piercing or something,” you snicker, picking up your drink once more and taking another sip. You allow your eyes to wander around the cafe, only to lock on the worst sight imaginable just behind Terushima’s head. 

        It’s him. 

        He shoves the glass doors open and barges through the crowd. Your companion takes in your panicked gaze and glances over his shoulder, sneering at the person approaching quickly. 

        “YN,” Kuroo breathes out in disbelief, hazel eyes locked on your tense form. A relieved smile overtakes his face as he reaches out for your hand. “I found you-”

        You tear away from him and jump out of your chair, stepping away as your eyes begin to water. “Don’t touch me.” 

        “YN, I-” 

        “You heard her, dude. She said don’t touch her.” Terushima fixes an enraged glare on the black-haired man, standing out of his own chair and creating a barrier between your solemn form and him. 

        “And who are you,” Kuroo spits through clenched teeth, “her new boyfriend?”

        “It-...” the blond’s jaw irks before he glances back at you, “it doesn’t matter who I am. If she doesn’t want you around, then you need to leave.” 

        “You’re not her guard dog, or even her new boyfriend. You’re just a rebound.”

        “Guys…” 

        “YN doesn’t want you-”

        “GUYS! SHUT UP!” You breathe heavily after the shout before smiling at the other customers as an apology. “Let’s take this outside,” you snarl lowly.

        Like scolded children, the two men trail after you, almost fighting over who gets to squeeze through the door first until you throw them a warning look. 

        Kuroo pushes past the blond and strides towards you in an instant, capturing you in a hug that you don’t return. “God, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” 

        “Kuroo, I-”

        “Tetsurou.” He corrects, voice muffled against your neck. 

        “... I didn’t answer your calls for a reason. We broke up. I don’t-... we can’t be together anymore.” 

        Your ex leans back enough to look at your face and scans it for any sign of lying. “YN, I didn’t mean to hurt you. That girl,” he shakes his head, biting his lip, “she meant nothing to me. But you-”

        “Kuroo…”

        “-You mean everything to me!” A tear trails its way down his cheek, but you don’t care to wipe it away. Your face hardens at the words. 

        “Then why did you cheat?”

        “I was wasted. And she looked like you and I missed you and I miss you still! YN, you need to understand, I love you! And if you give me another chance, I won’t fuck it up.” Kuroo brushes a hair behind your cheek and your eyes widen at the contact. “I love you so much. Please don’t let this be the end of us.” 

        “...” 

        “YN, we’re meant to be. It can’t end here. Not for us.” 

        Kuroo was wrong, and so clearly mistaken. Months ago, you would have collapsed back into his arms. Months ago, you would have cried and muttered that you loved him too, that you still loved him. 

        But now…. 

        Your eyes drifted past Kuroo, locking on a silent, dejected-looking Terushima. 

        You just didn’t. 

        “Kuroo, I can’t forgive you for what you did. I just can’t.” He shakes his head and opens his mouth to respond, but you smoothly press a finger against his lips and continue. “Even if I did, I could never trust you again.” 

        “YN, if you still love me, then that’s the only reason you need to take me back. I will work every day to regain your trust, no matter how long it takes. I’ll never hurt you again. God, I love you so much, just please, please don’t let us end here.” 

        Your relationship with Kuroo ended months ago. You both were just struggling to accept that. 

        “No, Kuroo. No.” 

        His eyes close and his head hangs, allowing his remaining tears to dribble down his cheeks. “Okay,” he finally whispers, voice silent and cracking. Then he tips his head up and presses a long kiss to your forehead, his final goodbye. 

        “I love you, YN.” 

        “I know, Tetsurou.” 

        Somehow he finds it in himself to smile bitterly at you saying his name, and he nods in thankfulness. 

        With a deep sigh, he releases you and steps back, scanning over you one last time before turning away with tear-stained cheeks. 

        You had loved him for so long. He was your first everything, your high school sweetheart, and much like him, you thought Kuroo was it for you. Your happy ending. 

        You were wrong. And deep down, you were glad you were wrong. 

        Kuroo halts in his stance on the sidewalk, just barely passing Terushima before he slams his hand down on the blond’s shoulder and grips it tightly. 

        “Don’t-” he cuts himself off to purse his lips. “Don’t hurt her like I did. Don’t let this one go.” 

        The skin under Terushima’s eye twitches before he glances up at your face. “I won’t. I’m not stupid enough to make that mistake.” 

        Kuroo smiles bitterly and releases your roommate, walking away down the street and never looking back. 

                                ~~~

        A day passed, and you avoided Terushima like the plague. 

        After seeing Kuroo once again, it reminded you of why you hadn’t ever tried moving on since the breakup even once. 

        You had gotten so attached, fallen so deeply so quickly, only to be replaced for another woman for one night. You couldn’t handle that again. The pain of feeling so easily replaceable wasn’t worth the risk.

        At least, that’s what you used to think. 

        “YN.” 

        Terushima finally snagged your wrist just in time after hours of trying to stop you. You shivered in his grip, almost horrified with how eerily similar it was. 

        “Please stop avoiding me.” Terushima stared at your face with natural puppy dog eyes, and after much internal scolding, you just couldn’t resist. 

        “I’m sorry.” 

        “It’s okay. But can we at least talk about it?”

        “It” was a lot more complex than it sounded. “It” was a commitment. “It” was a major change in your life. “It” was… was…. 

        “Yeah.” “It” was accepting you might be hurt again, but trying it anyway for love.

        Terushima led you to the couch and sat you down to face him, even though your gaze was locked on everything else. 

        “YN.”

        “...”

        “YN.”

        “...” 

        “YN, please look at me,” Terushima pleaded, palming your cheek and urging you to make eye contact. When you did was when the walls broke down. 

        The sparks his touch left against your skin weren’t right. Because why did they feel so right? 

        You loved Kuroo. Some part of you always would, along with the memories you two shared. So surely falling for someone this soon, this hard was wrong, right?

        “Yuuji.” 

        “Just… let me speak first, okay?” Terushima dropped his hand to your criss-crossed lap, running his fingers along your kneecap nervously. Tingles erupted from the contact, and fuck, they felt so right. 

        You nod and his lips quirk up gently. “YN, I know you’re probably still stuck on… umm, y’know, that guy, but I also know you must be feeling something for me too.” 

        If he had said it any other way, you would have smacked him for the cockiness of the words. But the slight nervousness that tinged his tone made you love it all the more. 

        “A-and I know that you two were like,” he rolls his eyes, “perfect for each other, but I mean come on, there’s something between us too.” 

        There was. Even Kuroo had seen it, as blinded by love as he was. 

        “But I know why you’re reluctant too. And YN,” he shakes his head hopelessly and caresses your lower thigh, keeping his gaze locked on yours, “I don’t know how else to show you, but I’m not that guy anymore. Ever since you moved in, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” 

        “Yuuji….”

        “No other woman has made me feel the way you do,” he whispers. “And that thought kind of scares me. But I… I just can’t have anyone else. So I’m not gonna let you go.”

        You cup one side of his face with your hand and your heart stutters when he leans into the hold. Throughout all of his speech, a small grin had etched onto your face, which was nothing compared to the beaming you felt inside you. 

        Waves upon waves of adrenaline, elation, and anything akin to utter euphoria lit up your chest. A zoo stomped and trampled over the tiny butterflies in your stomach as you let out a small giggle. Terushima’s eyes widened at the sound and he instantly tried to pull away, but you swiftly smack your other hand on the other side of his face, effectively trapping him.  

        He looks down and drags his fingers away from your lap reluctantly. “Why are you laughing?” 

        You almost felt bad, but oh fuck you were so happy! You just couldn’t help it as you let out another chuckle, causing Terushima to struggle in your grip like a floppy fish. 

        “YN-”

        You finally shut him up with a kiss, pressing your smiling, giddy lips against his. So much joy bursts through your chest at the contact, and your heart flutters when the blond groans and tightly grabs at your hips. 

        He can feel your uncontrollable smiling and laughing against his mouth, and he can’t help but pull away with a confused-- but relieved-- chuckle. “Why are you laughing?” 

        “I just, hehe, I just can’t…” you trail off in snickers before yanking Terushima closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him while you attempt to stop your cackles against his collarbone. “FUCK!”

        Terushima scoffs in disbelief as he holds you against him tightly, baffled at your confusing actions. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

        “I don’t know,” you laugh into his skin, tickling him a bit. You creep your hands into his hair and tug on the strands in an attempt to focus yourself on something more serious. It doesn’t work, but Terushima lets out a surprised moan. 

        “YN!”

        “I’m sorry, I’m just,” you press an open-mouthed kiss against his neck, giggles finally slowing, “I’m really happy right now.” 

        A corner of the blond’s mouth lifts at the words and he presses you closer to his chest. “I’m happy too.” Then he tugs you far enough away that he can see your bright red face. “Now do you wanna feel my tongue piercing for real?”

        He licks his bottom lip, displaying the enticing metal bar that lights the pit of your stomach on fire. Well, at least you weren’t laughing anymore. 

        “Fuck yes.”

Please give Oreo kisses for me... Hes so cute... He looks so done I love it

Eh, its true he is Pissy™. He really do got that rbf, but I promise he is babie. I’ll def give him kisses for u😙😙

I can relate

FUCK

After the Breakup (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: Welp, I was going to write for more people but when I started for these two babes-for-characters I guess I just couldn’t stop🤷‍♀️. Not quite sure how these headcanons turned out but hey, hope you like ‘em! (Btw they get a lil saucy, but I’m just in that mood so y’all are just gonna have to accept them for what they are🤷‍♀️)

Word count: 2120

Bakugou Katsuki: 

Wants to ignore you 

Definitely the type to fold his arms and turn away when you enter a room or scoff when you talk to another guy

But when you walk away the guy is being given a glare that could put him six feet under

Acts cold to you--not exactly like how he did before he was interested in you, like how he calls everyone “extras,” but more so like he just sneers at you for no reason and rolls his eyes everytime you speak

Lil pomeranian boi just misses you really badly

But he hates the idea that you have that much power over him that you could draw him back to your side in a matter of seconds. It frustrates him how much he wants you back

At one point he’s tired of having nightmares of you leaving night after night--especially now that he doesn’t have you to comfort him after waking up in a cold sweat. 

So he’ll climb out of bed and stomp over to your door

And proceed to stare at it for about twenty minutes with his mind and heart running marathons

What does he say?

What does he do?

Would you be mad? Sad? Disappointed?

Or… would you even care that he was still in love with you?

It all becomes too much, and soon enough he just has to know

So he raises a fist to pound on your door loud enough to wake the entire floor

And the door opens before he even makes contact. 

“Katsuki?”

“YN.” Surprisingly, Bakugou feels all too calm at this moment, like he knows exactly what to say. 

“What are you doing here?”

A muscle in Bakugou’s chin twitches as he struggles to find the exact words. He wanted to make his point but he also didn’t want you to slam the door in his face. “I… Look. You told me that we should both move on and that I should get over you.”

“Katsuki-”

“But here’s the thing, YN,” when he takes a step forward, you take a step back and he physically flinches at the movement, “I don’t want to.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to get over us and move on to other people. I don’t want to see you with other guys when I know I could make you happier. That I have made you happier.”

“Katsuki,” your face softens, “you don’t have to-”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t have to do, YN. I’m not letting you go, understood? Try to move on all you want, I’m not going to let you. I’ll scare off any man you even talk to if I have to-”

Two hands piled over his mouth shut him up instantly and you lean past Bakugou to glance both ways down the hall before yanking him inside your room. 

As soon as the door’s shut, you turn to him and shake your head with the smallest little smile. 

“Katsuki, you dumbass. I was just going to leave my room to give you the same lecture.”

“Huh?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” you cup his cheek, reveling in the foreign look of shock on the blond’s face, “so no need for anymore threats on guys I may or may not go out with… unless you’re really willing to go after yourself that badly.”

Relief floods through Bakugou’s body, warming him up with the thoughts that he didn’t need to worry about truly losing you at all--as it turns out, you agreed you were his just as much as he did. 

“So… we’re back together?”

“Yep, unless…”

Oh shit

“Unless what?” Bakugou froze under your touch and reached a hand up to secure your palm against his cheek. “What is it?”

It almost pissed him off that you were able to laugh so freely while he was in an obvious state of panic. 

“Well, I was gonna suggest break-up sex but judging by just how badly you want to get back together, it seems like that’s off the table.”

Oh. Oh you damned little thing. 

Such a fucking tease. 

“Nah,” Bakugou shook his head and before you knew it, you were being forced down onto your bed, wrists locked tightly above you. “You’ve got the right idea. Break-up sex tonight, and tomorrow we can make up all day long.”

Kirishima Eijirou: 

On the surface, Kirishima is the same old manly man everyone knows him to be

But his eyes no longer have that same glint

And that smile just always seems seconds away from faltering

His red hair seems less spiky than usual, and those bags under his eyes are just the biggest tell

Kirishima is broken. 

He’s not grinning and holding your hand as he walks into class anymore, escorting you to your seat with a perhaps almost overdone kiss. Instead, he almost slumps to his own seat, avoiding eye contact with as many people as possible. 

But the instant you step into the classroom, you feel it.

You sit in the front row, giving him plenty of freedom to watch you for the entire day.

Kirishima thinks it’s natural, it’s harmless. He’s just trying to get over an ex--everyone knows how hard that is.

But he’s just making things worse. He tortures himself by constantly standing to attention anytime you speak. Or anytime your name is mentioned. Or anytime someone who remotely looks like you walks by him. 

No, he’s not doing great at this “moving on” thing, and he knows that. 

But part of it’s because he just can’t believe that you’re not struggling to do it either. 

Kirishima knows none of those kisses and “I love yous” were lies. He knows you meant every single hug and smile you ever gave him. Every time you said you cared about him, he could see in your eyes that you meant it wholeheartedly.

So maybe you could see how he wondered why loving you was suddenly so painful. 

Because now you were broken up and all this love he had to give you had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. It was like the love he had for you was useless. 

Kirishima hated those words, that thought. That being in love with you for all those months was useless, and that it just needed to be flushed away. 

All those plans he had of being with you, becoming superheroes at one another’s side and raising a family together. Planning ahead so far to even name the bridesmaids and groomsmen of your wedding and the names of your children. 

The future house and the rooms of that house, how many there would be and what kinds they were. You needed a library, one he was all too ready to build for you and he wanted a mancave you would surely supply with snacks.

All of that was useless. 

But Kirishima didn’t want to think so. So he came up with a plan. 

And when you walked into class the next day, Kirishima sat in your assigned seat, and you knew you smelled mischief. 

“Eijirou… whatcha doin’?”

When Kirishima raised his eyes to yours, the corner of his mouth turned up just an inch. 

“Sitting.”

You purse your lips. “I see that. But you know you could do the same exact thing in your own seat, right?”

The conversation wasn’t exactly a spectacle--the only other people in the room were in the back of the class talking amongst themselves distractedly. No one would bother to interfere. 

“Well, YN,” Kirishima leaned back, “I kinda want to trade places for a day. I wanna sit in your seat and act all nonchalant, pretending like I actually wanted us to break up-”

You could hear his voice growing choked up and moved to stop him. “Eijirou-”

“-and you can sit in my seat and do as I do. Remember how happy we were and how much you said you loved me. And how I broke up with you anyway.”

It was cold, like the room had suddenly dropped a few degrees. The boy everyone thought didn’t have a single mean bone in his body seemed to flip a switch in himself, turning emotionless in the blink of an eye. 

For him to act like you never loved him almost hurt as much as when you broke up with him. In all honesty, you thought it was for the best at the time. You felt it would help both of you focus on your studies so that you could become better heroes than anything. 

You thought that’s what Kirishima wanted, and that you were doing what was best for him. But you were wrong.

It seemed all he really wanted was you--being a hero had moved to second. 

“Eijirou…”

So the question was did you want him just as badly?

“YN…”

Becoming a hero was the entire reason you came to this school, and was also the reason you broke off one of the best relationships you’d ever had. You’d thought you were making things better. 

But had it really helped anything?

“Eijirou, I…”

Your grades had actually dropped. Terribly. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually got quality sleep. 

And judging by Kirishima’s dark circles, he was suffering the same side effects. 

These weren’t the symptoms of withdrawal--they were just the signs of a mistake. 

So as you looked into Kirishima’s eyes, hard enough to see past all the barriers he had put up, you could see the same questions you kept asking yourself. 

Why did I ever think this was worth it? Why did I ever think this would help me be happy?

The answer was it didn’t. 

And trial and error was a pain in the ass. 

“Eijirou, I’m sorry.” Your brows drew together in regret as you lowered your gaze, reaching over to grab the hand Kirishima had tensed on the desktop. “Maybe… no. Breaking up was definitely a mistake, and I wasn’t even thinking of the shit I was going to put both of us through by doing that. I’m sorry.”

But just as his mouth opened to respond, the bell rang and twenty other students flooded in in a mad dash to get to their seats. 

Before you moved to claim Kirishima’s seat as your own, you made a split second decision that you hoped could display even a little of what you were thinking. 

Kirishima froze at the kiss, his eyes going wide as you tilted his chin up to give yourself access. His lips were soft, just as you’d dreamt about for the last five nights, and tasted like that damned chapstick he always wore. 

And when you pulled away, he tried to reach out to stop you but you stepped away from his desperate hands, instead navigating your way back to his desk. 

Kirishima was frantic, spinning in your seat to get a look at your blushing face while his own mouth stayed open enough to catch a couple flies. The second your lips quirked up into a smirk, he almost jerked back with whiplash. 

Fucking hell, she did not just-

“Okay class,” Aizawa slumped into the classroom with his usual cheerfulness. “I want you to take a look at-wait.” The teacher paused for just a second to take note of Kirishima’s back facing him and you just five seats away whistling and observing the ceiling with interest. 

“YLN, Kirishima, get back to your original seats for God’s sake. There’s no time for this.”

All too ready, Kirishima rose from your chair and made his way towards you with eyes unsteady and hungry. 

Tonight you would explain just what exactly you were thinking when you decided to break up with Kirishima out of the blue. I mean, you seriously almost gave him a heart attack. 

Directly after school though…

Kirishima caught your arm as you moved to walk past him and threw you a look that would stick in your mind for the rest of class. Just as fast, he released you completely and dropped into his seat, eyes locked on your every move as you slid into your own.

Oh yeah. Directly after school, he was going to make you pay for the pain you put his mind through with your body.

Eeee I was so excited to see you pop up on my dash again!!! Welcome back, I hope you’ve been well!

Aaaaaaa it's nice to be back ur so sweet for this message tyyyyy

i hope ur well too anon, even tho this message is like 2 yrs old probably, i hope ur doing great!

A Cut Above the Rest (Sugawara x Reader) *Request*

*GIF not mine* 

Summary: At the Shiratorizawa vs Karasuno game, it breaks your heart to see Sugawara get so excited by Kiyoko’s touch. After a long day of the silent treatment, your boyfriend must show you just how much more you affect him than any other girl around.

A/N: Honestly, this ended up better than I thought. Sorry it took me a while, and I’m not gonna lie, the other requests are probably gonna take just as long. My life is just a little sucky right now, so please have some patience. Still, hope you like it!

Word count: 2923

        Sugawara and Kiyoko were close-- they were friends, after all. But seeing him blush after she held his hands during a volleyball game was too much. 

        The sight of it made your stomach churn. His face was completely red as he jerked his hands away with a shout before bobbing and weaving the others. 

        “It’s mine! Get your own!”

        You could hear him from all the way in the stands, and there was no way the cameras hadn’t caught some of it. 

        The game against Shiratorizawa was possibly your boyfriend’s last game ever, and he had begged and begged you to come and watch. Of course, you had agreed without much coaxing, but now, all you wanted to do was go home. 

        Deep in your chest, your heart twinged. When was the last time Sugwara had ever been so aggressive over your touch like that? You couldn’t remember. Part of you felt alienated the instant it happened. 

        They’re just friends.

        Kiyoko’s not the kind of girl to do that.

        Koushi would never hurt me like that. 

        I’m not jealous. I’m not jealous. I’m not… 

        Was there really a point in lying to yourself? No, the answer is no. 

        The bitter taste of betrayal slapped you in the face the moment Sugawara had fought so hard to hide Kiyoko’s contact from another’s touch. Maybe your touch just wasn’t as precious to him. 

        Maybe… maybe Sugawara actually wanted Kiyoko. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had found her more attractive over you. The girl could wear shoes made of dog dookie and boys would still kiss the floor beneath her feet.

        But your sweet, loyal boyfriend was the last person you ever expected to jump on that bandwagon when he was in a relationship. 

        It hurt. Plain and simple. Your heart clenched and your stomach tightened and all you wanted was space, space, space. 

        So when Sugawara jogged onto the court for the fifth and final set of what could’ve been his last game, he glanced into the stands with an excited grin to see… no one. 

        “Where’s YN?”

                                ~~~

        The next day at school was hard, but ignoring Sugawara was even harder. Though he wasn’t in your class as you were only a second year, it seemed like he was everywhere, all at once. 

        Every corner you turned, he was there. Each class you passed, he was inside, asking a question you already knew the answer to.

        I’m right here, I just don’t want you to see me.

        A majority of it was just pure pettiness, but the last little inkling was fear. After avoiding him for so long, you still weren’t sure you could keep it together once he finally caught up to you. 

        Last night, your phone was blown up with texts, every one of them inquisitive. 

        “Did you hear we won our game?”

        “Where did you go?”

        “Are you gonna answer me?”

        “Did something happen?”

        “Are you okay?” 

        You didn’t answer a single one of them, instead choosing the age-old tradition of a silent treatment. 

        Lunch was the hardest. You always ate with Sugawara out in the courtyard under your favorite tree. Your back would rest against his chest and you would feed him part of your lunch, him always returning the favor. 

        So you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty while you nibbled on a chip, watching from your desk in a classroom on the second level of the school as Sugawara bolted out into the courtyard. His gray head of hair hung low as he made his way back inside the second he noticed you weren’t there. He shoved his hands into his pockets and lowered his gaze, observing his shoes as he scuffed them with every step.

        You weren’t an evil bitch-- why would seeing him like that not hurt you? It was just… you couldn’t forget his look of pure awe as Kiyoko touched him, like he had just been blessed by a goddess. 

        You knew you were nothing special. No matter how many times Sugawara told you that was wrong, you just knew it. But a part of you still wanted to believe that Sugawara had meant what he said all those times. 

                                ~~~

        “YN, open up!”

        A fist pounded on your door with hefty conviction. It hadn’t backed down for the past twenty minutes, and honestly, it seemed like it never would. 

        “I know you’re home, YN! Please, just answer the door!”

        With parents still at work, you were all alone at the house. There were no school projects or assignments, no homework or work-work; it was one of those few days in a year you would use to go to your boyfriend’s house and “study.”

        “I’m not leaving until you let me in, YN!” 

        After ignoring him all day at school, you knew you wouldn’t be off the hook for long. Sugawara always worried about you like this. There wasn’t a day gone by that you two hadn’t at least contacted each other via phone, so there was no doubt he knew something was up. 

        But you stayed put on the living room couch, wrapped up in a blanket and hugging yourself while trying to convince yourself the tears were just allergies. 

        “YN!”

        There was a saddened whine in his voice, like a hint of desperation. 

        You wondered if he was hurting like you. Would he be as jealous if you acted that way with somebody else? Would it pain him to see you blush and value another boy’s touch? Would he even care?

        Or were you just being childish?

        In every relationship lies one secret insecurity. One person’s more attractive, another’s skinnier, another’s taller. Another may be smarter or another may have a more stable life. There’s always a possible hamartia. And yours?

        Sugawara was older than you. 

        He never treated you like a child, though he had that habit. His friend group was all older, and yours, of course, was younger. 

        It was only a year, but in high school, that made all the difference. Girls his age, in his class, always spending time around him were bound to go after him at some point. At least, that’s what you always assumed. You’ve never told Sugawara any of it-- of your fears that there was another girl who he talked to that one day might just peel him right from your grasp-- you didn’t want him to think you were being childishly insecure. 

        And so, seeing Sugawara with Kiyoko made your volcano of unease erupt. 

        “YN, please!”

        But you didn’t want to lose him. God, you really didn’t want to let him go. He was kind and loving and made you feel things you’d never felt before. 

        “Hey.”

        So you slithered out of your nest of blankets and opened the door. 

        In a word, he looked disheveled. His hair stuck up in every which way, unkempt tufts barely catching the light of your porch. His hand, still frozen in the air to keep knocking, shook in place. But what most rattled you to your core was his face. 

        He looked… scared. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought a murderer was after him. The cold of what was eight p.m. in March had bitten his cheeks and nose to a nice pink color. Angry lines framed worried, hazel eyes that widened at the sight of you. Or more, the tear streaks you had failed to hide. 

        “YN,” he sounded winded, “what happened?” 

        Now. Right now was the moment you had been dreading. Unloading all of your personal insecurities onto another person was quite possibly the hardest thing to do, mostly because you knew nothing could be done about it. 

        “I…” The words were trapped, caught in your throat in a nasty combination of crap you could only hack up in the form of a sob. “I, um.” And that’s all you could say. 

        For a solid two minutes, Sugawara waited patiently for nothing. His brows rose in a gesture of take your time, but after seeing your lips stay zipped instead of opening and closing with the possibility of words, he must’ve gotten the hint. 

        He nodded then pursed his lips. “Okay then. Why don’t we… well, come with me. I want to show you something.”

        Without another word, he snagged your hand and tugged you out of your house before closing the door. 

        “Maybe you can tell me what’s up once we’re there.”

                                ~~~

        The drive wasn’t long, but by the time it was over, Sugawara’s headlights and the moon were the only lights around. 

        The local park sign greeted you once he helped you out of his car, closing the door for you before grabbing your hand and leading you away. 

        You were surprised at how warm his fingers were when they intertwined with your own, flexing against yours out of habit while Sugawara tugged you around. 

        “There,” he muttered under his breath, leading you right to the thickest oak tree around. The trees were few and far between in the clearing where you two settled, and just barely in the distance could you see the plastic playground of the city. 

        “Come on.” After taking a seat against the rough trunk, he pulled you down into his lap with a soft smile. Like always, your back leaned into his front, which worked as a heater in the slight breeze of the night. His hands wound around your waist and hugged you flush against him with not even an inch to spare. Both of your guys' legs lay straight out, his just outside your own but pushing them close enough together that one almost sat on top of the other. 

        Instinctively, your hands relaxed down onto his thighs, and you finally let yourself relax back into his form. 

        The silence was nice and peaceful. For a moment, you forgot why he had even brought you there. When you truly let go and wound your arms up behind Sugawara’s neck, he decided to break it. 

        “So… do you want to talk about it?”

        Not really, but you knew you had to. Tonight, you just wanted this undisturbed moment with him. You just wanted to listen to the trees rustle and the crickets chirp, all with him by your side. But you knew that if you wanted more moments like this, you had to start talking. 

        “Koushi,” you sighed and shook your head, “yesterday, at… at the game, right?”

        “Yeah?”

        “You and Kiyoko got really, um, really close.” You could feel him suck in a breath, but he let it out slowly before humming for you to continue. 

        “I think I see where this is going.” 

        You weren’t sure what to make of that response, so you kept speaking. “You held hands and-- God, I feel so stupid, but it made me kind of… jealous.” 

        “And that’s why you ignored me all day?”

        Out loud, it sounded ridiculous-- ridiculous and foolish. So why did the memory of them still hurt?

        “Yeah. Basically.” 

        You wanted to say more. You wanted to explode and confess, just let loose of all the feelings you’ve kept rammed up for months of being with him, but you just didn’t want to run the risk of losing him. 

        You loved him. At least, you think you did. It’s only been so many months, but when he wasn’t around, you missed him, and when he was around, your heart raced with excitement. Seeing him with Kiyoko almost made it look like things were one-sided. 

        “Kiyoko and I are just friends.” 

        A log broke away from the dam in your chest, increasing your need to let loose. 

        “Yeah, I know.” Your voice was tight, and there was no chance Sugawara hadn’t heard it. His fingers started dancing along your stomach, slipping up your shirt only so far as the skin below your belly button before splaying along the hot flesh. 

        “YN, I know you’re still not telling me something. Please, you can talk to me. I’m your boyfriend, and I’m here for you.” 

        The level of comfort those words held, Sugawara had no idea. Your heart fluttered at just their meaning. Someone was there for you, and they wanted to listen.

        So you spoke.

        “I just,” you didn’t know why, but your eyes began to burn with tears, “I know I’m not that girl, you know? The one that everybody would love to talk to and stops and stares at. The one that people would kill to touch or smell or something. And I know that’s weird or selfish, but God, I just hated seeing you with a girl like that.”

        “YN-”

        “Kiyoko’s perfect,” you continued, throat constricting the more you choked out. “I know that. Everyone loves her and wants her, but…” The first salty trail paved its way down your cheek. “Koushi, I want to be that girl sometimes. It’s gonna sound vain, but I really wanted to be that girl to you. But maybe I needed to be knocked down a peg like that.”

        “YN!” His voice rose and cracked, and his forehead dropped to your shoulder. “Please, please don’t think those things about yourself. Please.” With an open-mouthed kiss to your neck, he shook his head. “I don’t want the girl I love thinking these things. I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy. You must not see it, but you’re that girl to me all the time.”

        Another kiss, this one sloppier as he bit back his own tears. 

        “Koushi-”

        “I hate making a fool of myself in front of you.” Kiss. “I hate how I still feel like a little schoolboy whenever I see you.” Kiss. “Fuck, I mean, my hands shake and my heart flutters and I just know my damn palms are sweating but I still want to hold you.” Kiss. “And YN, when I hold you, I can’t even think straight.” His entire back has curled in over your form like a shield. “My heart just pounds like crazy and I feel so stupid because I keep thinking that we’ve been together for so long and I still get so excited to see you, like a damn toddler on Christmas.” 

        The two hands under your shirt travel to your sides so Sugawara can turn you in his lap until you’re facing him head on. Then they peel away and cup your face, fingers stroking the skin while Sugawara stares at you with what could only be described as pure love in his eyes. 

        Just the sight of it robs the air from your chest. Breathless couldn’t describe it, but a rush of elation could. Your stomach twinged with excitement as you swallowed up the unfiltered allegiance Sugawara was swearing to you with his soft, hazel eyes. 

        “YN, I can’t believe you thought anybody else could make me feel something more than you.” A thumb brushes over your lips while he shakes his head. “You must be blind.” 

        When your hands reach up to tangle into his hair, he only allows one of them to complete the trip. The other, meanwhile, is caught by the wrist. Sugawara leads your hand to his chest, pressing your palm flat against the space hiding his heart. 

        “Can you feel it?” You do. His heart is pounding, much like your own. The speed and force of each thump under your palm has you leaning your cheek into his other hand. “There’s that smile I love so much.” His thumb runs over your upturned lips once more, and you can’t help but blush. 

        “Koushi.”

        “Hmm?” His eyes are still locked on your lips, but they slam shut once you pull him into a kiss. A moan escapes his throat at the feeling. It’s passionate and thankful and loving. It washes your worries away and has you confront the warm, soft truth: you’re in love with him, and that’s what matters. You’re urged to separate only for a truly desperate need of air, and even then the distance between you barely grows.

        His hot breath warms your cheeks as he dips his forehead against yours, dropping his hands to wrap your legs around his waist. Fingers massage the flesh of your thighs as he keeps his eyes closed, lips searching for yours once again only to be stopped by a giggle. His eyes flash open at the sound, crinkling at the corners when his mouth curls into a confused smile. 

        “What?”

        “Nothing, nothing.” In all honesty, you feel like you're on cloud nine, riding a wave of pure bliss. “It’s just…” your hand pats against his chest, rumpling the white t-shirt he’s wearing. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Maybe we should take a little break.” 

        Sugawara chuckles and leans back against the tree, ducking your face into the crook between his neck and his shoulder with a hand in your hair. 

        “Trust me, princess. When you’re nearby, it always beats this fast.”

THAT FUCKING PLOT TWIST. COP DAICHI IS ALSO YOU'RE YANDERE?! WELL SSHIIIITTTTTT THEM HANDCUFFS ARE ABOUT TO BE PUT TO USEEEEEEEEEEEE

RIGHT?? LIKE GODDAMN🥵 there needs to be more yandere of those two w one darling istg

Side note: don’t be surprised if you catch me thirstin’ on daichi/suga x readers bro. Those two plus yn = the unholy trilogy of fuck me up, daddy

Hi! Already told ya but I really liked you ST headcanon❤️ could you make one with Billy (+ any other stranger things boys you want to add) about them accidentally hearing that y/n has feelings for them? It’s too cliched but such fluffy fluff is my air:>

He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings for Him (Stranger Things Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: yeah so this took me like a month but also guess what i had to bullet point every single goddamned mfing line in this post by hand bc of tumblr's new formatting or whatever, and then i posted it on the wrong goddamn request so i had to do it twice so ig we all got probs kill me. Anyways, i kinda went overboard on this prompt bc i love billy so naturally no one else made it into the hc🤷‍♀️ what a shame👀 Enjoy!

Word count: 4856

Billy Hargrove: 

“I don’t like him.” 

Billy’s eyes fluttered open, and they glided lazily onto your form in the desk in front of him. With his hands folded behind his head and his legs crossed, feet perched on his own desktop, Billy knew the teacher had long ago given up on scolding him for his lackadaisical behavior in class, and even longer ago had he realized Billy would never put much effort in anyway. 

One such happenstance that seemed to disturb the entire class, though, was how Billy had wound up there in the first place. Honors English didn’t exactly seem tailored to his, er, capabilities, to put it lightly. 

However, before Billy and his family had moved to Hawkins, Indiana, he’d been quite the student (according to the principal…after you’d complained), and lost in translation was some other lame excuse that English classes in California were inherently more advanced than those of Indiana anyway. 

You called bullshit. You had sworn Billy had bribed the teacher to let him remain in the class just to disrupt your existence. 

It wasn’t exactly his crowd, so to speak, judging by the glasses, focused faces, and pencils scribbling around the room. Nobody in the room looked like they’d even smelled a cigarette before—well, not until Billy arrived.

But you? God, you fit in like a glove. Here was where you divided yourself from the rest of the school, from its bullies and booze and tobacco—from its corruption. You were innocent when it came to such “paraphernalia,” as you called it. You were untouched, and more importantly, you were unclaimed. 

Billy was enthralled with this virtuous disposition of yours. In the beginning, his feelings for you,“little Miss Priss” as he’d grown to calling you, appalled him. Of all the girls in the school he could choose from, all the hot blondes that fawned over him in the halls and the enticing brunettes that asked him out after catching his eye for a moment, never did he think for a fucking second that it would be you. 

The prude. 

“Don’t like who?” Billy interjected harshly, dismissing how you and your friend flinched at his sudden interest. 

“No one!” you both mumbled, avoiding his gaze and spinning around in your seats. 

Billy’s brow rose at that, and the instant the bell rang, he kicked his feet off his desk and reached a hand toward you. You scooted forward in your seat the second his fingers brushed you, and Billy paused, a small ache in his chest disguising itself as irritation. 

Clenching his jaw, Billy curled his fingers around the back of your desk chair and dragged you back to him, the rubber stoppers on the ends of your chair legs squealing in protest against the polished floors. The teacher glanced up from his podium at the front of the class at the sound, an unimpressed look on his face, but was otherwise unconcerned about the situation unfolding. After all, it happened almost every morning. 

The teacher sighed and resumed calling roll. Billy kept one fist clasped around the back of your chair and one long leg outstretched beneath your seat, his boot situated around the nearest footing to stop you from scooting away. He leaned forward, hot breath rustling your hair as you sat stock-still, hands folded in your lap. 

“YN-”

You flinched. 

“-who were you talking about?” Though it was a question, he more demanded the answer than asked for it, because Billy would be damned if he had to listen to you and your friend giggle and jabber about your feelings for any guy that wasn’t him. 

Just the thought of another boy in the class catching your eye in general made him feel angry. 

No, maybe not angry. Sick was more like it. You weren’t his, and he knew that—fuck, he knew that all too well. He wouldn’t let it be that way for long, though. 

For months he’d tried to take his mind off you and place it, force it, on someone else. But when girls at parties and in his car, in hotel rooms or in their own goddamn bedrooms couldn’t eliminate the picture of you hot-glued to the forefront of his mind—couldn’t erase your secret smile when Billy had Sharpied a dick on Mr. Morrison’s board, or your glare when he’d tugged your seat over to his for the first time, or that feeling of your hand overtop his when he’d tugged on your hair to distract you, to bring your attention back onto him—Billy knew he had to give up on getting over you. 

He’d finally accepted that his only course of action was to keep your eyes on him just as his were locked on you. It was only fair. 

“Nobody,” you huffed under your breath. “Why do you even care?”

The tension on Billy’s face softened, relaxed as he looked over your form appreciatively, licking his lower lip. ‘Heres’ and ‘Presents’ resounded about the pair of you as Billy released his grip on your seat’s backing, settling the same arm on his desk and reaching up a hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger. “Oh, no reason, babe, just making sure I’m still in your good graces is all.”

You scoffed and twisted in your seat, yanking his hand from your hair with a grip on his wrist. “Were you ever?”

Billy held your gaze while simultaneously imploring to whatever asshole wandered around in the sky that you would never release your hold on him, and he allowed his lips to curl up into a real smile. So long he went without ever letting that happen, and then you showed up and now he never wanted to stop. 

Just as Billy reached up to brush a strand of hair from your forehead, the teacher reared his ugly, bald, fucking bastard head. 

“YN, Billy,” Mr. Morrison called aloud, his tone on the latter’s name far more irritated, and, of course, you sat at attention, turning away from Billy and tearing your hand away from his wrist. “Pay attention, please.”

“Sorry, sir.”

And just like that, you slipped from his grasp. You ignored Billy’s every poking and prodding of his pencil in your back for the rest of class and focused rather on whatever the hell Morrison was on about, curled over your notebook with your head ducked low.

It was only when Billy sighed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms, chest tight, that he realized your friend was watching from the corner of her eye with a small grin. 

Until Billy flipped her the bird, then she scoffed and looked away too. 

By the end of class, Billy’s head was dropped back, mouth open and releasing soft snores. The bell ringing didn’t wake him; what did was your courteous kick to his foot in order for him to release your chair, which he did, so you could push your seat in. Then you smacked his forehead with your notebook for good measure. “Wake up, asshole, class is over.”

He grunted, swatting away the offender. “You’re so kind to me, babe,” he grumbled bitterly. “What would I do without you?”

“Considering you spend every waking minute in this class annoying me, I truly, honestly don’t know.”

Billy smirked at that, gaze latched onto your form as you walked away side-by-side with your friend, whom you seemed to be shaking your head at. Sluggishly and with a yawn, he rose to his feet, lugging his bag over his shoulder and following your path out of the classroom. 

He lingered behind a few steps, stopping only to lean against a water fountain and pull a pack of Marlboros from his back jean pocket. He swiped the cigarette across his bottom lip before slotting it in the corner of his mouth and reaching for his lighter. 

“That’s not what this is,” you groaned, fiddling with the combination of your locker. 

Your friend hummed sarcastically, a mocking “Totally” on her lips from Billy’s distance away. He could barely hear the two of you, especially through the thick crowd of students flooding the halls, rushing to their cars and buses to get the hell out of school. 

Of course, you were lagging behind to study in the library, and, of course, Billy would be there to bother you for the next half hour before “suddenly remembering” he had a date.

Fuck, he hated it. He hated himself, and how easily you wound him around your little finger. He used to wish you were cruel; some cold-blooded bitch to him so it would be so much easier to dismiss his feelings and walk away. Instead, you were kind. The only fucking person who could battle back against his attitude and yet still care about his wellbeing. How many times had you tugged a cigarette from his mouth with a small, disapproving grumble, or silently placed a water bottle on his desk when he’d enter the classroom reeling from the effects of the night before?

He'd never met anyone that was too good for him. Not since…

Fuck. He hated this.

How? How did you have that power over him? When did you ever have time to wrench your hand into his chest, break past his ribcage and grab a fistfull of his heart just to steal it out and shake it in front of him like some cruel game of fetch?

“Goddamnit,” he huffed, eyes narrowed at his lighter that sparked fruitlessly. One last click, though, and a flame bloomed in his hand. 

“I swear it’s not! The guy’s an asshole. You know my grade is actually dropping in that class?” You slammed your locker closed, armfuls of textbooks hugged to your chest. “It’s because of him. Pretty soon, I’ll have an A-minus. Do you know how long it’s been since I've had an A-minus in a class?”

“Not as long as you haven’t had a D.” 

You blanched, whole body flinching like you took a punch to the gut. “I-... you-... that was totally uncalled for.” Your friend snickered. 

Billy, meanwhile, had grown infinitely more interested in the conversation, so much so that he had almost coughed out the smoke in his lungs. His eyebrows raised as he watched a flush rise to your cheeks. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” You pointed at her disapprovingly, but she only laughed more boisterously. 

“Oh, come on! Am I wrong?”

“Who cares about my…” you gestured at yourself wordlessly, floundering, “e-experience level? You really think that asshole is gonna solve that?”

“Easily.” 

You threw your arms in the air hopelessly at your friend’s deadpan, rolling your eyes. “No! Not happening! The only possible outcome is a newfound exposure to STDs.”

“Worth it.” Her hands snapped up in surrender at your glare. “Kidding. Just kidding.”

Slowly but steadily, the halls were clearing. Billy didn’t bother trying to disguise his watchful gaze as he inhaled another cloud of smoke, pulling the cigarette from his lips to tap the ashes out in the water fountain behind him. He let out the fumes in one long stream as he leaned a hip against the metal edge of the fountain, settling his other hand into a front pocket on his blue jeans. 

Billy waited, as he always did, like a predator ready to swoop in on his prey the second it was alone. Two blue eyes stay cemented on your form like a promise, a pledge of devotion. It was the yearning from afar that pained him the most, certainly because what excuse could he ever fabricate to explain himself? You hadn’t called his name—-your gaze hadn’t even accidently washed over him. You’d done nothing to gain his attention. You had done nothing but be, and for that, Billy was undeniably, absolutely addicted. 

He needed you.

Billy massaged two fingers at his temple, taking another drag with half-lidded eyes. 

“You better be.” You sighed, slamming your locker closed and clenching the straps of your backpack in your hands. “The day I actually throw myself into the arms of that aggravating jerk is the day I toss all of my self-respect in the trash.”

It’s me. It has to be.

She’s talking about-

“He’s not that bad if you think about it. Even you yourself said-”

“I know what I said,” you floundered, shoving a finger against her lips. “But—you know what—if we both ignore that I ever said it, then maybe, just maybe, my feelings will fade away, and we can both look back at my confession one day and laugh.” You pull your hand away from her, posing your hands on your hips righteously. “Laugh while knowing that my feelings for him were ridiculous and dumb and stupid and childish, and that I was just acting like a regular teenager with a little, stupid crush on some dumb boy-”

“You’re in love with Billy, aren’t you?” your friend deadpanned. 

Your face fell, and you pouted. “Yeah, fine, you’re right, I’ve got it bad.” 

-Me.

The cigarette fell from his lips, landing on the floor soundlessly. Billy stood at attention, his hand falling out of his pocket as the other dropped from his head. Love. YN is-

She’s in love with me.

All color in his cheeks disappeared, just as all the air in his chest. He couldn’t breathe, but in a good way, like the burn of surfacing from underwater for too long—like he was seconds away from the first gasp of fresh, sweet oxygen, after suffocating for so long.

He wanted this—fuck, he needed this. Who gave a damn if he deserved it or not, he was going to have you. You and the warmth of your hands; your smile and your laugh, all of your blushes and your tears.

All of it. Every single last ounce, he wanted it all.

He could fucking have it, too. 

She’s in love with me. 

Your friend grinned all too smugly. “You’re finally admitting it out loud, huh? Look at you, growing up right before my eyes. How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” you grumbled, still curled in on yourself, cheeks dusted pink.

“Your first real love confession to a boy.” She dropped both of her hands on your shoulders as your brows furrowed. 

“Does it really count if he’s not even here?”

“Nope,” she beamed, spinning you around in her grip. “Good thing he is!”

For a moment longer, you were still visibly confused at her words. The halls had long cleared, and the only sights and noises that now filled them were your wide eyes and quick gasp. 

“Billy.” His name slipped from your lips like an accident, tumbling out without a second thought and landing in the allconsuming silence of the hallway with a dull thud. 

He couldn't help it. God, he couldn’t fucking help it. 

The trembling that took hold of him, the shiver that began in the tips of his fingers and transferred up the length of his spine—he hated it because he had to hate it, but deep down he loved it more than anything else.

Because you were just so fucking perfect. 

Your eyes were glassy, like any second you were going to burst into tears. There was a small quiver of your lower lip, and, like a tidal wave, the overwhelming urge to feel that same quiver against his own lips, his skin, crashed into him. 

He really, really couldn’t help it. It was second nature. 

A corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes glinted with condescension. “Is that right?” he hummed, amused. “Are you in love with me, YN?”

The pounding in his chest, the pregnant pause as he waited, the subtle, dizzying fog that began to flood his mind, all of it he ignored. He had to hear it. Say it again.

But he couldn’t help it, and the more your glistening eyes studied his face, tears threatening to overflow at the waterline, the more he could feel that sweet burn in his lungs turn painful once more. 

And it hurt so much worse when you twisted out of your friend’s hold and bolted. 

Your tennis shoes squeaked in protest against the vinyl composition tile, down the hallway and clear through the glass doors of Hawkins High, never turning back no matter how many times your friend called your name. 

When the doors slammed shut, a gust of wind followed and ruffled the stray curl against Billy’s forehead. The smirk had long fallen from his face. 

Your friend bit the inside of her cheek beside him, obviously searching for words of any kind to explain your reaction. “She’s just-… well, you kind of…” She huffed, adjusting her backpack straps against her shoulders. “Look, she’ll be back on Monday. She wouldn’t skip school, even out of embarrassment like that.” She threw him a sidelong glance. “Though, maybe next time you don’t respond like that, right?”

Billy’s face hardened, and he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He slotted a smoke in the corner of his lips. “Who gives a shit?” 

Your friend pursed her lips, observing as he struggled once more with his lighter. He gripped it with white knuckles, and the butt of his cigarette was crushed between his teeth. “Right,” she nodded with a sigh. “See you Monday.” Her footsteps trailed down the hall and away.

When the doors shut after her too, Billy spat out the smoke, hurling his lighter down the hallway with bared teeth. “FUCK!”

Monday. Fucking Monday?

Billy wrenched two hands in his hair, his nostrils flaring as he gnawed on his lips. It hurt, it all fucking hurt. Everything. 

She left, she fucking left. She ran away from you, and you know why too—it’s because you’re so weak. Why the hell would she ever want to be with someone like you? How could she ever be in love with-

Billy paused, his hands falling from his scalp, his shoulders rolling back. His head raised, slowly. 

Fine, you could have until Monday. But on that day, he was getting some fucking answers. 

The weekend didn’t pass by quick enough, despite Billy not remembering most of it. He recalled the party he attended that Friday night, the keg and the shots and what must have been some girl trying her best to come onto him. He remembered shoving her off one minute with a snarl and thundering towards his car, and then the next he was waking up in his own bed. He remembered working out and drinking Saturday and Sunday away, and he remembered waking up Monday with a healing bruise on his cheek, his father none too impressed that he’d drunk all the beer in the house in the span of two days. 

But who fucking cared, right?

Who gave a shit when his Camaro came squealing into the school parking lot, stopped parallel between three spots? Who gave a shit when he ambled Hawkins High halfway through the school day, his shirt unbuttoned down his chest, his cologne wafting after him everywhere he went?

And who gave a shit when he arrived in Mr. Morrison’s class, early for the first time in the six months he’d been in it, and planted himself in his seat, his legs kicked up on his desk, his arms folded up behind his head, blue eyes carefully watching the doorway. 

Because, yeah, you’d ran away from him. But you’ve been doing that for so long now, dancing out of his reach each time he wanted you, twisting out of his grip each time he almost had you. This was the first time you’d ever escaped him knowingly. 

Finally, he knew you loved him, and once more you got away. 

Of course, your little game of cat and mouse had to end like this—it had to end with him catching you. 

And catch you he did. 

God, you were so fucking beautiful, it actually made him ache. Your friend was shoving you in through the classroom door, two hands braced against your back despite you trying to wriggle away like a loose fish. 

Your face was red, completely, utterly red, like you’d just come back from running a marathon. Your eyes were darting around frantically, from the desks to the ceiling, and he knew you were actually considering your chances of escaping through an air vent. 

She’s in love with me.

He didn’t care. Suddenly, at the sight of you, he just didn’t fucking care anymore. He didn’t care that you ran, about the turmoil you’d caused him, about the misery that had been his weekend away from you. 

He couldn’t care for anything less because the second your eyes landed on him in that classroom and you let out the softest little squeal, all he knew was you, you, you.

So fucking cute.

Billy kicked his feet off his desk, reaching forward and pulling out your chair before patting the seat backing suggestively. Like clockwork, his smirk reformed on his face, a small glimmer of patronizing amusement in his eyes. 

“Come on, babe,” he simpered at you. “Don’t be shy. Take a seat.”

Come back to me. I need you.

Your eyes widened, and you squirmed in her grip once more. “Nope, I can’t do this.”

“Hush up and go.” One big shove from your friend and you were stumbling forward, scrambling to regain your balance. 

Billy silently urged you closer, gesturing down at your seat with his hands the closer you shuffled toward him. As he did, he drank in the sight of you, flushed and skittish, stumbling toward him like a baby deer on new, unsteady legs. He noticed the darkened skin under your eyes, most likely matching his own, though he doubted you and him were sleepless for the same reasons. 

When you ground to a halt in front of him, you gulped, your attention everywhere but on his face. 

“Hey, YN,” he practically purred, hands itching to reach out to you. 

“Hello, Billy,” you squeaked, dropping into your seat and gripping the bottom in an effort to slide the chair forward. Very quickly, though, you discovered Billy’s boot was already perched around the chair’s footing, and one hand had an iron grip on its back. 

“Going somewhere?”

“I guess not.”

Billy hummed. “I think you have something to say to me.”

“Umm nope, don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on, no need to be shy. I just wanna hear you say it,” he prompted, as his other hand glided up, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Tell me how you feel about me, YN.”

“I think you’re a jerk,” you whispered, turning back slightly to fix him with a flimsy glare. 

“Besides that. Tell me what you told me Friday, before you ran.” He tugged at the strand of hair, his brows raised expectantly. 

“I didn’t mean it-”

“Don’t-” Billy gritted his teeth, his hand leaving your hair to grip your chin, turning you to face him. “Don’t say that.” He watched as your eyes grew damp again, all soft and delicate and one small admonition away from bursting into tears. 

You were so fragile, so small in his eyes. It often made him wonder why he ever thought he should be the one you should be with. How could he ever hold you in his arms without tarnishing you?

So badly, he thought he wanted to have you just to dirty you, take away that purity that seemed to hover over your head, but there were some days where he knew that all he wanted from you was to make him believe he could hold on to something so clean.

He wanted it. So, so bad, he wanted whatever you would offer him. He wanted to hear those words straight from your lips. 

Your cheeks were so hot, he itched to cradle them in his palms and absorb some of that warmth. He wanted to wipe away all of the tentativeness with the pads of his fingers and leave behind the breathlessness, the pure affection that was its source. 

“You just want to laugh at me,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking. “You’re just going to tease me about it like you do with everything else.” You swept a hand underneath your eyes. “You’re so cruel, Billy.”

“Stop-” he hissed and shook his head, gritting his teeth. “You don’t get to say that. Not after all I’ve ever wanted is for you to love me back, you don’t get to fucking say that.” Billy seized your wrist, tugging you closer. “I know what I am. I know what I do.”

His pride was wilting away the more he spoke to you, the longer you didn’t pull away from him, and his mind pounded in indignation. At what point did you turn him into a complete lovesick fool, and was it before or after you first smiled at him?

If your wide-eyed look was any indication of your shock at his feelings, he wondered just how baffled you would be once you discovered his willingness to bend over backwards at your every plea. You would never take advantage of him, and he knew that, but the tendrils of doubt still crawled up his spine at the thought of leaving himself so vulnerable for you. 

 “But you, YN?” He traced his eyes over your face, huffing softly. “In all my life, I’ve never wanted something more.”

You stared at him, open mouthed. Your gaze was so surprised, so innocent that it actually frustrated him. How could you have not seen? How could you be so blind?

“So don’t you fucking say that it’s cruel of me, or selfish, or some other bullshit.”

You gasped when he tugged you closer by the wrist, his other hand encompassing your cheek. 

“Just say it again.”

His eyes darted over your face, desperate.

“Please.”

Your eyebrows twitched up at that, and your gaze grew tender, raking over his face slowly as if committing to memory. You paused at his lips, watching as they parted and pursed against one another. 

You’d worn him down. You’d exhausted him, mentally and physically. Of all the months he’d waited for your confession like this, he never thought the last few moments would be the most excruciating of them all. What more did you want from him? Already, he could feel the swell of anger at his throat ready to be unleashed, to lash out at you until you were in steady tears again just so he knew exactly what you were feeling once more. Billy wanted—no, needed—some part of you to be under his thumb, just so he could pretend, if even for a second, that your emotions for him were still in his range of sway.

Instead, his heart stuttered when the hand in his grip wormed away and pulled off the other that was at your cheek. You splayed his hand out on the surface of his desk, then you intertwined your fingers with his and squeezed. Your teeth worried at your bottom lip as you ducked your head. 

“I’m in love with you, Billy.”

His eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Finally. Fucking Finally.

You were his, completely. 

He couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t.

His hand found your chin, and he tipped your head up, gaining your attention.

“I fucking knew it,” he simpered, entirely too smug. And when you tried to scramble away, panicked and scared, his hand found the back of your neck and tugged you close, his lips landing on yours. 

In his hold, you grew lax, only your hand tensing around his. Your lips didn’t move against his, seemingly too tentative and inexperienced to truly indulge yourself.

Billy grinned into the kiss, far more pleased than anyone should be at the knowledge that he could leave marks on you in so many more ways than one. When he pulled away, he quickly cupped your face with a hand, thumbing at your lips in search of the remainder of his own warmth. 

“Library, after school?” he muttered, his mouth still curved.

“Only if you don’t have a date afterwards,” you grumbled. You could sass him all you wanted, and Billy couldn’t care less. He could hear your breathlessness and feel the heat in your cheeks, and pride flared in him knowingly. 

“Well, I might-”

“Are you guys done yet? ’Cause that was kinda gross.” Your friend dropped into the seat beside you, her nose wrinkled. You straightened up, unraveling yourself from Billy’s hold and nodding your head.

“Yep, yeah, definitely all done. Totally.” 

And just like that, you were gone. Billy bristled at your instantaneous lack of touch and threw a snarl at your friend, who only shrugged. 

Then she held out a hand, brows raised expectantly. 

“You owe me.”

Billy rolled his eyes, fishing his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and rifling through it, passing her a ten dollar bill. 

“Keep the change.”

“With pleasure.”

An Enemy Hypnotizes Bakugou and He Hurts You (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: Got outta writer’s block with this bad boy. Enjoy!

Word count: 2138

“Katsuki, this isn’t you! Look at what you’re doing!”

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Red rage burned in his eyes as he raised his sparking hands, both trained on you. 

Gritting your teeth, you settled back into your own defensive stance. Feet planted on the hard cement, you raised your arms across your chest and braced for impact, eyes glancing back and forth to ensure no more civilians were left on the street. 

The sun shone brightly in the sky, soaking into your skin and creating a halo around Bakugou’s blond head, despite which he still looked like a devil. A leer hung on his face as he circled you, a lion waiting to pounce on his prey. 

Pro Heroes were supposed to be arriving any second; after all, this was just supposed to be a simple academy training mission. You and Bakugou were supposed to survey a local villain terrorizing the streets and observe how a Pro Hero would go about capturing him. 

They should’ve remembered who Bakugou was and realized that he wasn’t the type of person to hold himself back from a fight, however, though distantly you assumed they believed you would be able to hold him back. 

They were dreadfully wrong.

“Katsuki, I don’t wanna hurt you,” you pleaded, softening your stance a bit. 

“Cute that you think I’m the one who’s gonna end up hurt,” he sneered, curling his hands into fists. Sweat dripped down his forehead and arms, further fueling the weapons attached to his arms. 

Panic struck you as you realized he had no control over himself and that no doubt he would use those weapons on you, full force. 

There was only one way to stop him before that happened. 

You would have to attack him first, hard. 

“Just remember, babe,” you shook your head solemnly, “I don’t mean any of this, and I would never hurt you unless I absolutely had to.”

Bakugou cocked a brow and curled his lip, hands sparking now more than ever. 

“Oh, and I also don’t forgive you for eating my muffin this morning.”

A grunt escaped him as he flew through the glass window of the restaurant behind him, crashing and collapsing against a table and chairs. You dropped your leg back to the ground, worry taking over your face as you strained to see his form in the dark restaurant. 

“Katsuki?”

“YN!” All Might’s voice dragged your attention away, leading you to watch as he landed on the street a few yards away. “Are you all right?”

Glancing back into the darkness of the restaurant one last time, you pursed your lips and turned, making your way toward the Pro Hero. “I’m fine, but Katsuki got-”

The wind gets knocked out of you just as you try to take another step, a blast of pure heat slamming into you and knocking you to the ground. 

Head smacking against the concrete, you bite down on your tongue hard enough to draw blood. 

“Shit,” you wheeze out as you roll onto your back, blue sky blurring above you. The epicenter of pain is on the left side of your skull and your head pounds with every heartbeat. Whooshes of blood flood your ears and a voice calls your name before everything turns to black. 

“YN. YN. YN!”

A hand pats your cheek gently, urging you to stur. When you continue to refuse, two fingers peel open your eyelid, flooding it with pure light and increasing the headache that had only been steadily pulsing before. 

“Ughhh,” you moan, unable to form words as the same person lifts open your second eye. 

A muffled “pupils are dilating” sounds far off in the distance before you feel your body being lifted up off the hard ground and onto something softer. 

Words like “hospital,” “concussion,” and “serious” filter in and out as you try to open your eyes, even the millimeter you actually obtain being a strain. 

Where is he? You try to form the words but your mouth feels stuffed with cotton and someone shushes you. Even in the blinding brightness, though, you can see him. 

He’s struggling in All Might’s grip, unsuccessfully trying to rip both arms away and barking at every EMT who walks past--who then begins to walk even faster--as his gaze continually glances from them on to you then back. 

Bakugou stops mid-shout and grows still when he finally sees your smallest of movements--the twitch of your fingers, the blink of your eyes, and the mouthing of his name.

Every ounce of fight in his body drains in that instant, and he slumps back against All Might, shoulders and brows drooping as he holds eye contact with you. 

Even in your daze, you wonder why he doesn’t come with, why they won’t let him come with, but that question falls from your mind the instant the ambulance doors are shut and they begin to drive away. 

Two days later, you were released from the hospital. You had a minor concussion and first-degree burns on your left arm, but otherwise you made it out unscathed. 

And during that time Bakugou didn’t contact you once. Not even a lame “Hey, u good?” text. Though technology was forbidden for the first couple days after your concussion, you still snuck out your phone from time to time to call him, text him, anything. He never responded. 

You told him that you were okay, that it was okay. You knew everything that had happened wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t in control of himself. Someone had forced him to hurt you and he’d had no part in it. If he had, he would’ve stopped it, you were sure. 

Nothing. 

All you would get was a little check mark marking each and every one of your messages as “seen.” 

Now that you were coming back to school today, you could finally give him a piece of your mind after that silent treatment. 

First thing you did when you arrived was look for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. People flooded you as you entered, asking if you were okay and how many fingers they were holding up. 

You noticed they were asking all but one question: What happened? 

Although you didn’t necessarily want to answer it anyway, this still piqued your curiosity and just as you prepared your own inquiry Aizawa entered and they scurried to their seats. 

Still no Bakugou in sight. 

The most acknowledgement the weary teacher gave you after your absence was a nod and an unceremonious grunt before diving right into the lesson. 

Though your doctors would blame it on your concussion, you found yourself unable to pay attention. It wasn’t even anger towards Bakugou at this point, but genuine panic that he hadn’t shown up yet. You never even thought to wonder what happened after you were knocked out until now. 

Maybe he got hurt too, or was it possible he could still be hypnotized? No, no way. You saw him recognize you post-knockout. So where was he?

The minute class ended you were out the door and running to the dorms. If Bakugou wasn’t there then obviously this situation was more serious than you thought. 

You hit Floor Four and bounded past Kirishima to the absent blond’s room, pounding on the door with all your might. 

“Katsuki? Are you in there?”

His red-headed friend watched as you knocked, flinching each time the door shook hard enough to rattle the entire level. “YN.”

“Katsuki I swear to God if you keep ignoring me-”

“YN.” He tried again, growing anxious. 

“I’m gonna kick your ass so bad you won’t even-”

“YN.” 

“What, Kirishima, what?”

It took a few seconds to register that he hadn’t said your name the third time. Snapping your head to the other side, you faltered at the sight of the blond. 

Hair ratty and tangled, eyes puffy and sunken, cheeks pale and bloodless. If anyone were to guess, they would think Bakugou was the one who took the beating. 

“YN.” He repeated your name like he was pondering over it. 

You heard a door click and turned to see Kirishima gone, disappearing into his room. Glancing around the hallway, you realized it wasn’t exactly the perfect place to have such a serious conversation and gestured for Bakugou to open his door. 

The second it was closed, you turned back to him and threw him a dirty look. “Why didn’t you respond?”

He stayed quiet for a second, looking you up and down, up and down. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gulping, and you took the time to notice how bloodshot his eyes were. Then, finally, he spoke. “Are you okay?”

Anger swelled at his dismissal of your question, but before you erupted you noticed something. Though Bakugou’s hands twitched at his sides, every time you moved closer toward him he would inch away. 

Taking a deep breath, you moved another step closer, startled when he took one back. 

“Why are you…” you trailed off, struck by his apprehension. 

“Are you okay?” he asked--no, he insisted. When you responded “yes” he nodded slowly and clenched his jaw, turning away. “That’s good.” Instead of facing you he began to fiddle with his desk chair, rotating it from side to side. 

You step closer, reaching out your hand to touch him and sighing when you see his shoulders tense. It hurt to see him like this, avoiding your every touch like it would give him the plague. “Why?” you whispered sadly.

“I read all your texts, you know.” He turned around and leaned back on his desk, propping himself up on his hands. When his eyes met yours, you saw the crimson was filled with pain. “You said it wasn’t my fault that you got hurt, that it was someone else. Someone else burned you, knocked you out. Someone else hurt you. ” He swallowed roughly. “But that’s a lie.”

“Katsuki, no it’s not-”

“It is, YN!” he snapped, pushing off his hands and pacing “I’m the one who hurt you! I used everything I had against you, to purposefully hurt you.” When he stopped in front of you, his cheeks were puffed and red, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

He was angry now, pissed off but you knew it wasn’t at you. It was at himself for something he couldn’t control. 

You hated it when he was like this. 

Quickly, before he could flinch away you grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him in, close. He wriggled in your grasp, even preparing to wrench your hands off with both of his own on your wrists before you raised a brow. “You really wanna do that?”

Hesitantly he dropped his arms to his sides and gave in to your hold. The muscles in his face relaxed under your touch, and you started to brush your thumbs over his cheeks with a small smile. “Katsuki,” you leaned your face in closer, “the only thing that hurt me during all that time was you ignoring me. Did you know that?”

“YN, I was just trying to-” Before he could finish you yanked his forehead down to press against yours, effectively shutting him up. 

“Did you know that?” you repeated, slower this time. 

He rolled his eyes and pressed harder against your forehead. “No.”

“Look at what I’m trying to tell you, Katsuki. The only time you ever hurt me, the only time you ever caused me pain, was when you ignored me after I was injured.”

“I’m…” ever so slowly he let his hands trail up to your hips, settling there and squeezing for just a second. He closed his eyes and let out a soft breath. “I’m sorry.”

Your mouth twitched. “Sorry for what?”

“Come on, YN, don’t-”

“Sorry for what?” you laughed, tugging him back in after he tried to pull away. 

Apologies, especially of the genuine kind, were rare for Katsuki. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d even heard those words fall from his lips. 

But here they were, some of the hardest words to ever say, laid out for you and you only. 

Bakugou’s gaze travelled up your face, pausing on your grinning lips before continuing on to a permanent stop on your eyes. His own lips perked for a second. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you after you were hurt.” 

Carefully, like you were a china doll, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. His body was harsh but warm against yours as he leaned his cheek against your hair. 

It was sweet. The sweetest you’d ever gotten out of him, but…

“God, you are one awkward hugger.”

“Don’t test me, YN.”