Boku No Hero Academia - Blog Posts

So I have a vigilante Deku fic I have been posting on AO3 for a bit. Decided to share one of the drawings I did for it :)

Finally caved and got a tumblr so now I can post all the ship art I want and not have to worry about the parents seeing it

My new child Slugku. My only child. The only child I will ever need. @Riifuneko on Twitter is slugmom get a child from their store.💗💚

I've been staring at Dabi for a good 2 hours... Is what little skin he has stolen from someone else?

It's stapled onto his burned body so i assume that new skin isn't his....

Did Dabi skin someone?

(he's absolutely a Todoroki, maybe that's why his family doesn't recognize him? Cuz he's literally wearing someone else's face.)

There isn't enough Kirishima merch on amazon. I feel like people underestimate my willingness to spend every penny i have if they would just make more stuff.

Y’all my favorite headcanon that I saw is that Aizawa is quiet and barely talks when he’s in public, but when he’s at home he just goes to yap town w/ his husband :*)

Here is a small piece of chapter two of my fic that i have talked about before,, it might not stay in the final draft, idk, but i like it!

Right now the name of the fic is 'Is It Cold Outside?' but it might change at some point.

Todoroki Enji, most commonly known as the Number Two Hero; Endeavour, was a perfect and beloved hero. To civilians, maybe. To kids whose parents told stories of great heroes, probably. But, if you asked his family, you would get vastly different answers.

Todoroki Touya loved his father. Admired him with all of his being. He wanted to be exactly like him when he grew up. He was the eldest of four, and so, it was his responsibility to look after his siblings. But, in his heart was a dark and cold feeling that screamed at him everyday.

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

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

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

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

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

Whatever.

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

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

This is the life. 

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

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

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

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

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

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

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

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

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

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

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's when the shouting really starts.

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

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

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

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

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

It's perfect.

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

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

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

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

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

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

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

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

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

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

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

"...Hi...?"

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

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

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

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

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How he even got up here is news to you. 

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

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

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

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

Then, he settles on his plan. 

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

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

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

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

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

It's... comical.

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

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

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

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

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

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

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

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

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

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

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

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words drift off.

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

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

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

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

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

You're laughing.

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

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

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

Are you dead?

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

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

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

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

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

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

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

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

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

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

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

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

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

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

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

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

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

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

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

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

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

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

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

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

All you can do is nod.

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

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

Hii!! If you can, can you write Katsuki x fem reader where reader is scared of being intimate with Katsuki because she's very insecure about her body and Katsuki reassures her? It can be both comfort and smut!! XOXO

To Worship

Katsuki wasn’t stupid. He could tell when something was off, especially when it came to you.

He noticed it in the way your body stiffened whenever his hands wandered beneath your shirt. The way your breath hitched, not from pleasure, but hesitation. The way you pulled back just before things went too far.

It pissed him off—not because you weren’t giving in, but because you were holding yourself back. From him.

Tonight was no different. You were straddling his lap, lips swollen from his kisses, body warm and trembling in his arms, but the moment his fingers slipped beneath your top, you tensed.

"Oi," he muttered, pulling back to look you in the eye. "The fuck’s goin’ on?"

You shook your head quickly. "Nothing."

"That’s bullshit." His crimson eyes burned into yours, sharp but not unkind. "Talk to me."

You swallowed hard, trying to look away, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Y/N."

Your chest ached at how soft he said your name.

"I just…" You exhaled shakily. "I don’t want to disappoint you."

His brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. "What the hell does that mean?"

You bit your lip. "I’m not… perfect, Katsuki. My body isn’t—"

"Don’t you dare finish that sentence." His voice was rough, but his touch was gentle as his hands moved to your waist. "You think I give a fuck about that?"

Your vision blurred with unshed tears. "I don’t want you to see me and—"

"Tch." Katsuki scoffed, then leaned in, brushing his lips over yours. "You’re fuckin’ perfect to me."

You gasped softly as he kissed you again, slower this time. His fingers traced over your skin with a reverence that made your heart ache.

"You don’t gotta hide from me, baby," he murmured against your lips. "Lemme show you how much I love every damn part of you."

Your breath stuttered as he guided you onto your back, his body hovering over yours. His hands, usually rough and calloused, worshipped your curves, tracing over every dip, every scar, every so-called imperfection like they were something sacred.

"God, you’re beautiful," he muttered, voice thick with want. "Can’t believe you ever doubted that."

Heat pooled in your stomach as he kissed his way down your body, worshipping every inch of you with lips and tongue. The tenderness in his touch made your insecurities feel so small, so insignificant.

And when he finally pressed into you, stretching you so perfectly, he held you close, his forehead resting against yours.

"You feel that?" he groaned, voice shaking. "That’s how much I fuckin’ love you, baby."

A soft whimper escaped your lips as he moved, slow and deep, his hands gripping yours as he made love to you like he had all the time in the world.

No rush. No shame. Just him showing you, over and over again, just how beautiful you were in his eyes.

And for the first time, you believed it.

Katsuki moved with a kind of intensity that left you breathless—not the usual rough, explosive passion he carried in everything he did, but something deeper. Something unshakably devoted.

His hands never stopped moving, mapping out every part of your body with deliberate care. When your breath hitched as his fingers traced a soft curve or a spot you weren’t fond of, he lingered there, pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses to your skin as if to tell you, I love this. I love you.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pushed deeper, hips rolling slow and deliberate. “So tight… fuck, baby.”

Your legs trembled around his waist, pleasure sparking through every nerve as he kept you close—chest to chest, fingers tangled with yours. His pace never faltered, never rushed, stretching the moment between you like something precious.

A whimper slipped from your lips, and Katsuki was on you immediately, capturing the sound with a kiss, swallowing it down like he needed it to breathe.

“S’okay, baby,” he whispered, thumb brushing over your cheek as he kissed you again, softer this time. “You don’t gotta hide from me. Ever.”

You let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you—like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and Katsuki’s expression softened, his thrusts slowing to a near stop as he cupped your face.

“Shit, baby,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your eyelids, kissing away the tears that slipped free. “Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, it’s… it’s not bad.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned in, his voice dropping into something rough and tender all at once.

“You believe me now?” he asked, hips shifting just enough to make you shudder.

You gasped, fingers tightening against his as heat coiled deep in your stomach.

“Katsuki—”

“Say it,” he rasped, his other hand slipping down your waist, pressing into the flesh there like he was grounding himself in you. “Say you believe me.”

You swallowed hard, body trembling beneath him, pleasure crackling through your veins like wildfire.

“I—” You gasped as he pushed deeper, hitting the spot that made you see stars. “I believe you.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening. “Damn right, you do.”

His pace picked up just enough to steal your breath, his lips never leaving yours as he guided you to the edge with slow, deep strokes that left you unraveling beneath him.

“Let go, baby,” he murmured against your mouth. “I got you.”

And with one last roll of his hips, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Katsuki followed right after, burying himself deep with a groan, his grip unrelenting as he spilled into you.

For a long moment, all you could hear was your own heartbeat, the slow, steady rise and fall of your breaths mingling with his.

Then, Katsuki shifted, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

“You ain’t ever gotta doubt yourself again,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and something softer.

You curled into him, chest aching in the best way, and whispered,

“I won’t.”

love in the margins | t. iida

a short, slow-burn library romance, ft. one blueberry muffin, exactly zero jokes, and a boy who takes flashcards way too seriously. (4597 words)

you meet tenya iida under circumstances that can only be described as tragically collegiate: a peer-led study group in the furthest, quietest corner of the campus library, surrounded by half-dead fluorescent bulbs and the palpable despair of students on the brink of burnout.

it's the third week of the semester, and you're already floundering.

you hadn't intended to be. in theory, you were going to stay on top of things—read the chapters early, color-code your notes, maybe even start a study group of your own. but somewhere between sleep deprivation, an avalanche of discussion posts, and the mysterious black hole that is the university's online portal, you fell behind. hard.

introduction to public policy has been your academic nemesis from the start. the textbook reads like legal jargon swallowed a thesaurus. the professor talks in dense, circular metaphors. every quiz is a minefield of trick questions and ambiguous phrasing. you are, in every sense of the word, academically drowning.

so when a brightly colored flyer promising a "collaborative review session" caught your eye on the bulletin board outside the lecture hall, you didn't think twice. you showed up. desperate. caffeinated. terminally underprepared.

and now you regret everything.

the room smells like dry-erase markers and nervous sweat. a whiteboard at the front is covered in illegible graphs. someone has already spilled a latte on the floor. the guy leading the group talks fast and loud, his explanations full of buzzwords and gestures but lacking anything remotely useful. you suspect he's just regurgitating the study guide at a slightly faster pace.

the other students seem to agree.

one by one, they start to trickle out. a girl leaves with the excuse of "office hours." a guy mutters something about dinner. another just quietly packs up and disappears, not even bothering with a pretense.

by the end of the hour, only two people remain: you, clinging to a futile hope of salvaging your gpa... and him.

he sits across from you with the kind of posture that makes your back ache just looking at him. tall, composed, and absurdly polished—like someone who writes essays three days early and carries a spare pen in case someone forgets theirs. his navy-blue sweater is wrinkle-free. his glasses catch the dim library light. his notes are not just color-coded—they're thematically organized, annotated with footnotes and marginalia in tiny, immaculate handwriting.

he hasn't spoken once. he hasn't needed to.

he radiates competence like it's a moral obligation.

"you're still here?" you ask, more surprise than judgment.

the boy looks up, blinking as if surfacing from a well of deep concentration. he adjusts his glasses with a practiced motion.

"yes," he says, voice clipped and oddly formal. "you are as well."

you arch an eyebrow. "no offense, but... are you actually getting something out of this?"

his expression doesn't change, but he tilts his head slightly—almost like he's assessing you.

"of course," he replies. "engaging in structured group review enhances cognitive retention and contextual understanding. it's an effective method for consolidating knowledge prior to a high-stakes assessment."

you blink. "so... yes?"

he doesn't hesitate. "yes."

you snort—audibly. it escapes before you can stop it. and to your surprise, a faint smile flickers across his mouth.

"i'm tenya iida," he says, extending a hand across the table with the kind of precision reserved for formal introductions at university mixers.

you stare at his hand for a moment, then take it. his grip is warm. steady. confident in a way that makes you sit up a little straighter.

"y/n," you say.

his smile grows just slightly. "it's a pleasure to meet you, y/n."

he releases your hand and immediately pulls out a second set of flashcards from his folder. of course he has a second set.

"would you like to quiz each other?" he asks, dead serious. "alternating questions could be a mutually beneficial method of review."

you stare at him.

he stares back.

something about him—the earnestness, the posture, the complete and utter lack of sarcasm—disarms you. it's like he's the living embodiment of academic sincerity. you're not sure whether to laugh or agree.

you do both.

"...sure."

you don't know it yet, but that's the beginning.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don't plan on seeing him again.

it's not personal. it's just that study groups are the social equivalent of jury duty—temporary, miserable, and best forgotten. you assume tenya iida is one of those hyper-dedicated overachievers who only exist within the academic ecosystem. he probably recedes into a cloud of flashcards and moral fiber as soon as the library closes.

you are, however, proven categorically wrong the following wednesday at exactly 8:03 a.m.

you enter the campus café half-awake, mildly hostile, and fully dependent on the idea of caffeine as a substitute for sleep. the plan is simple: grab something with enough espresso to make your eye twitch, stare blankly at your phone for fifteen minutes, and pretend the crushing weight of institutional learning isn't slowly hollowing you out from the inside.

but fate—or perhaps syllabus-based divine intervention—has other plans.

because when you step inside, there he is.

same posture. same glasses. same stupidly crisp button-down like it didn't just come out of someone's laundry but graduated magna cum laude from it. he's seated at a table by the window, surrounded by highlighters arranged like soldiers, reading the textbook that has been your personal tormentor since week one.

and next to his coffee?

a single blueberry muffin.

you hesitate, caught in that weird space where it's too late to pretend you didn't see him, but also too awkward to walk past without acknowledging him.

before you can make a decision, he looks up—and smiles.

not just a polite, "ah yes, i recognize you" smile.

a real smile. brief, but sincere. like he's actually glad you're here.

he waves you over.

you hate how quickly your legs respond.

"didn't expect to see you here," you say as you slide into the seat across from him, instantly aware of how tired you look in comparison to his perfectly combed hair and terrifying punctuality.

"i study here most mornings," he replies. "the ambient noise level is consistent, and the natural lighting is optimal for focus."

you blink. "that is... alarmingly specific."

he inclines his head. "i find that consistency breeds productivity."

you want to tease him, but the truth is, it's kind of admirable. alarming. but admirable.

he gestures to the pastry between you.

"would you like half?" he asks. "it's fresh. and i believe we have, at this point, established a cordial enough rapport to justify the sharing of breakfast items."

you stare at him.

"do you always offer muffins to people you've only studied with once?"

he doesn't even flinch. "only when they look tired enough to deserve one."

your mouth twitches.

"you've been saving that line, haven't you."

he looks mildly offended. "no. though i could annotate it in my planner if you'd like."

you laugh—genuinely this time—and accept the muffin. it's warm, sweet, and annoyingly perfect. just like him.

you don't pull out your flashcards. not immediately. you sit there in companionable silence, splitting the muffin and sipping your drinks like it's something you've always done. like this is normal.

you tell yourself this isn't a date. obviously.

it's too early in the day for romance. you're both clutching textbooks like weapons. he hasn't even made a single joke. (you're not sure he knows how.)

and yet—

when he leans in to show you a section he highlighted—carefully annotated with footnotes and marginal notes that are somehow neater than your typed essays—your shoulders brush. you don't pull away.

he doesn't, either.

later, you realize that you don't even remember what chapter you reviewed.

but you remember the sound of his voice as he quietly explained it. the way he passed you the last bite of muffin without saying anything. the way his fingers curled ever so slightly when he set his pen down between you.

you remember thinking, with a strange flutter in your chest: this could be something.

not yet.

but maybe.

⋆˚✿˖°

you tell yourself this is still just about school.

you repeat it like a mantra as you meet him at the library every tuesday and thursday without fail, settling into your now-permanent seats by the windows like assigned partners in some ongoing group project that no one else remembers being assigned to. his bag always lands on the table first, followed by a reusable water bottle the size of your emotional baggage. he brings extra highlighters now — plural — and starts leaving a green one near your elbow like he’s not even thinking about it.

you, in turn, stop pretending to study anywhere else.

because the truth is, you don’t concentrate better when he’s around — not even a little. he’s distracting in the worst possible way: tall and tidy and terminally composed, with a voice like a podcast host and a smile that you pretend not to notice every time he glances over at you with something like pride in his eyes.

and the worst part?

it’s working.

your grades are going up. you understand policy terminology now. you caught yourself referencing a case study unprompted in another class, and the look your professor gave you made it feel like you’d just been knighted.

you’d thank him for it — sincerely — if he didn’t look so smug every time you nailed a quiz.

“you’ve clearly been applying yourself,” he says one evening, looking over your annotated notes like they’re some kind of sacred text.

“i’ve been applying your study methods,” you reply, then instantly regret it, because the smile he gives you in return is devastating.

and that would be fine — annoying, but fine — if it weren’t for the fact that he’s started sitting closer.

not drastically. not inappropriately. just... close.

close enough that when you both lean in to look at something on the same page, your shoulders brush. your knees knock. his hand lingers near yours when he passes you a pen, and he doesn’t move away quickly. sometimes — and this is particularly evil — his thigh rests against yours under the table for minutes at a time, and you’re too proud (and too panicked) to say anything.

you’re not flirting. not really.

you’re both too stubborn for that.

but something is happening. you just don’t know what to call it.

one thursday afternoon, the sky is gray and heavy with the threat of rain. the windows in the library fog up slightly, making the whole room feel smaller, softer, somehow more intimate. your shoes are damp. your brain is fried. you’re barely holding onto your focus.

but he’s already there, sitting at your usual table with a mug from the downstairs café and a folder labeled “legislation review: week 5.” there’s a muffin. of course there’s a muffin.

he looks up as you approach. smiles. “you’re early.”

you blink. “so are you.”

he shrugs. “anticipation is efficient.”

“what does that even mean?”

he hesitates, like he’s genuinely considering it. “it means i enjoy this.”

your heart does something stupid.

you take your seat before your face can give you away.

thirty minutes in, your brain stops processing information entirely.

you’re trying to focus. really, you are. but his leg is pressed against yours and you swear it’s getting closer every time he shifts. it’s not even the contact itself that’s distracting — it’s the fact that he doesn’t seem to notice. like it’s just normal. like this is how he always studies with people.

(does he?)

(no. he can’t.)

“y/n?” he says, and you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

“hm?”

“i asked if you’d like to walk through the case brief again. you seem... distant.”

you clear your throat and try not to sound like someone whose brain has just been wiped by a thigh. “yeah, no, i’m fine. just tired.”

he nods solemnly. “understandable. your coursework has been particularly intensive.”

he says it like he knows your schedule better than you do — which he might. you’ve seen his planner. you’re pretty sure he’s memorized the entire academic calendar, national holidays included.

you try to return to your notes.

you fail.

eventually, you lean back in your chair and exhale.

“okay,” you say. “i need to ask you something.”

he looks up, immediately attentive. “yes?”

you glance around — no one’s within earshot — and lean in slightly.

“this thing we do.”

he blinks. “studying?”

“no. i mean yes, but no.” you gesture vaguely between the two of you. “this. the muffins. the flashcards. the... sitting so close i can smell your laundry detergent.”

he goes still.

“i’m just trying to understand if we’re, like...” you hesitate. “is this just a really intense academic friendship or are we... flirting?”

he doesn’t speak for a long moment.

then, carefully: “i hadn’t realized my proximity was making you uncomfortable.”

“it’s not!” you say, too quickly. “it’s just... confusing.”

“confusing how?”

you fidget with the cap of your pen. “because we do things that feel... date-adjacent. and i don’t know if that’s just how you are with people or if i’m—” you stop yourself before you can say not imagining it.

his brows draw together, faintly perplexed. “i apologize. i didn’t mean to cause confusion.”

you blink. “so you are flirting?”

his ears go pink. just slightly. “i wouldn’t define it as flirting. but i do enjoy spending time with you.”

you squint at him. “that’s not a no.”

he hesitates. then, quieter: “it’s not.”

oh.

you stare at him. he stares back.

and then — like the universe can’t stand unresolved tension — your knees bump again.

but this time, he doesn’t shift away.

and neither do you.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don’t call it a date.

not out loud.

not even in your head, really — not technically. because you’re not dating. you haven’t kissed. there’s been no confession. there’s been no moment of clarity where either of you has stood dramatically in the rain and said i think about you all the time, which, honestly, is a bit disappointing.

but you still change your outfit three times before meeting him for coffee on saturday.

you still hesitate in front of the mirror, adjusting your sleeves and second-guessing your hair, muttering get a grip under your breath like it’s a prayer.

you still pause at the door to the café, one hand on the handle, and remind yourself — again — that this isn’t a date.

you’re just meeting up. casually. like friends.

friends who sometimes sit with their knees touching under library tables. friends who share muffins and steal glances and somehow always find reasons to linger a little too long in doorways.

friends who, if they weren’t so emotionally constipated, might’ve figured this out already.

but you push the door open anyway, and the little bell overhead chimes bright and familiar.

he’s already there.

of course he is.

tenya iida is punctual to the point of pathology. if you told him to meet you in the afterlife at 3:00 p.m. sharp, he’d be there early, holding a clipboard and a fully prepared powerpoint.

he’s sitting near the window, back straight, hands folded politely in his lap. his hair is a little messy from the wind outside. his sweater is navy — clean, simple, a little oversized in a way that makes you stare longer than you should.

he sees you and stands immediately, which is both adorable and completely unnecessary.

“you’re early,” he says, voice warm.

“so are you.”

he doesn’t reply, but the smile he gives you is soft around the edges.

you order something with too much caffeine and not enough nutritional value. he offers to pay, like he always does. you decline, like you always do. it’s a silent tradition now, a ritual of stubbornness. he lets it go with a quiet nod, but not without giving you that look — the one that says i was raised right and this physically pains me.

you find a booth in the corner, a little more secluded than the rest. the sun spills in through the window in soft golden streaks, and for a moment, it feels like you’re somewhere outside of time.

“i’ve never seen you wear that color,” he says as you sit down.

you glance at your shirt. “yeah? too much?”

he shakes his head immediately. “no. it suits you.”

your mouth goes a little dry.

you recover quickly, leaning back and sipping your drink like it doesn’t mean anything. like the warmth crawling up your neck is from the coffee and not the compliment.

“so,” you say, clearing your throat. “what’s on the agenda for today? rigorous academic analysis? philosophical debates about economic ethics? impromptu pop quizzes?”

he tilts his head. “i thought we might take the day off.”

you blink. “from... studying?”

“from everything.” he shrugs, a little sheepishly. “i realized we’ve never spent time together without a textbook between us.”

your heart does something strange.

“you mean like... just hang out?”

“yes.”

“like friends.”

he hesitates. just barely. “yes. like friends.”

the words hang in the air between you — awkward, uncertain, but not unkind.

you nod, slowly. “okay. yeah. we can do that.”

and you do.

you talk. not about school, not about deadlines or group projects or the upcoming midterm. you talk about dumb childhood stories and weird food preferences and the fact that he once tried to start a recycling initiative in his middle school and was very upset when no one followed the sorting chart correctly.

you tell him about your obsession with terrible reality TV. he listens with the seriousness of a man taking notes for a thesis.

he tells you about his older brother, and how much he looks up to him. you tell him about the stray cat that used to follow you home in high school, even though you never fed it.

he laughs — really laughs — when you tell him about the time you broke your nose in gym class trying to dodge a volleyball and ran straight into a bleacher.

“i’m sorry,” he says between gasps. “i don’t mean to laugh at your pain.”

“no, you do,” you say, grinning. “and it’s okay. i would too.”

at one point, your knees bump under the table again. this time, neither of you pulls away.

it’s later than you mean it to be when you finally leave the café. the sun is dipping low, the sky tinged with lavender and orange. the street is quiet, and the wind bites just enough to make you zip your jacket up.

you walk together. not toward the library, not toward another class — just aimlessly. like people who have nowhere else to be.

it’s peaceful.

and weirdly... intimate.

you’re not talking. not really. the silence between you is comfortable now, lived-in. every so often your hands brush, and you wonder — wildly, stupidly — what would happen if you just reached out.

but you don’t.

because this isn’t a date.

it’s not.

except maybe... it is.

“this was nice,” you say, when you finally reach the crosswalk where you’ll part ways.

he nods. “i enjoyed it.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“we should do it again,” you say. casually. like it doesn’t mean anything.

but he looks at you like it does.

“i’d like that,” he says. and then — “you’re very easy to be around.”

your breath catches.

you want to say something. you’re easy to be around too. i think about you when we’re not together. i don’t know if i’m imagining this but i hope i’m not.

instead, you say, “you’re weirdly charming, you know that?”

he blinks. “i— thank you?”

you grin. “it’s a compliment. mostly.”

he laughs. soft. pleased. “i’ll take it.”

he takes a small step back, like he’s about to leave — but then pauses.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“if this had been a date...” he clears his throat. “would that have been... agreeable to you?”

you stare at him.

then, slowly — carefully — you nod.

“yeah,” you say. “i think it would’ve been.”

he smiles. it’s small. tentative. but it lights up his whole face.

“then maybe next time, we won’t pretend.”

you feel like you’re floating.

“deal.”

he nods once. then, with a strange, lingering sort of hesitation — like he’s not ready to go yet — he turns to leave.

you watch him go.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel... hopeful.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don't know what you're expecting.

when he texts you the next morning — same time tuesday? not for studying this time. if you're free. — you stare at it for a good ten minutes before responding. not because you’re unsure of your answer (you’re not), but because the implication hits like a freight train.

not for studying.

not as friends.

just you. just him. again.

this time, it’s a little different.

this time, he’s calling it what it is.

you don’t overthink your reply (for once). you just type yeah. i’m free and throw your phone face-down before your heart can beat out of your chest.

and when tuesday rolls around, you are twenty minutes early.

you tell yourself it’s because the weather’s nice and the walk was shorter than usual and you didn’t want to cut it close. but the truth is, you’ve been ready since noon.

you’re wearing the sweater he said he liked once, months ago, after a study session where he handed you a highlighter and your fingers brushed and you both paused like the world might end. it’s not even your warmest or your nicest sweater. it’s just... the one he looked at a little too long.

you don’t want to admit what that means.

you sit in your usual seat by the window. a small table, worn edges. your coffee in hand. no textbooks. no flashcards. just the sound of the café around you and the low simmer of anticipation in your chest.

he walks in three minutes early, which is basically scandalous by iida standards.

you glance up, and the second your eyes meet, he smiles.

it’s not his usual polite, committee-appropriate smile.

it’s something else.

something softer.

he sits down across from you like he’s been doing it his whole life.

you stare at him for a second too long.

“you’re early,” he says, like it’s a fact worth noting. his voice is gentler than usual.

“so are you.”

“a rare occurrence.”

“should i be concerned?”

he laughs — quietly, warmly. “i thought you might say that.”

you both go quiet.

not awkward quiet. just... full.

full of everything you’re not saying.

you sip your drink and hope your heart doesn’t explode.

twenty minutes in, you realize you’ve forgotten what time it is.

again.

you’re talking about something stupid — a professor you both silently hate but never speak ill of in class — and he’s mimicking their voice in a whisper, hand shielding his mouth, and you’re laughing.

like genuinely, honestly laughing.

like you don’t have a hundred things weighing you down.

he always does that. makes everything feel easier. lighter.

it’s dangerous, how much you like it.

how much you like him.

you haven’t said it. not out loud. not even to yourself.

but the truth is: you’re in trouble.

deep trouble.

because tenya iida has the power to wreck you in a way no one else ever has.

not because he’s dramatic. not because he’s charming (though he is, in that annoying, understated, golden-retriever-with-a-perfect-credit-score kind of way).

but because he’s steady.

because he means things.

because when he looks at you, it’s like you’re someone worth understanding.

and you’ve never been loved gently before.

not like this.

you walk out together.

neither of you mentions how long you stayed. it’s dark out, but neither of you cares.

you walk close, side by side. your hands brush once, then again. his fingers twitch toward yours, and you pretend not to notice — not because you don’t want it, but because you’re not sure what happens if you reach back.

you talk about nothing. and everything.

he tells you about the time his older brother accidentally dyed his hair blue with a shampoo prank and how no one in their house was allowed to mention it for an entire year.

you tell him about the time you accidentally set off a fire alarm trying to microwave leftover curry in a dorm that very explicitly prohibited strong-smelling food.

“you’re a menace,” he says, laughing.

you bump your shoulder into his. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he glances at you. “i didn’t say that.”

you both stop at the crosswalk — the same one where you stood days ago.

the same one where he asked if this had been a date...

you’re not pretending anymore.

and yet.

you don’t know what to say.

you just look at him, the wind brushing through your sleeves, your fingers cold where they’re shoved into your pockets.

he looks at you.

longer than before.

long enough that your heart stumbles.

and then — quietly — he says, “can i ask you something?”

you nod. “of course.”

his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. careful.

“why me?”

you blink. “what?”

“why... this?” he gestures gently between you. “i know i’m not the most exciting person. i’m not particularly funny or... spontaneous.”

you frown. “iida.”

“i’m just trying to understand,” he says. “why you keep showing up.”

you want to say because i like the way you talk when you’re tired, or because your laugh makes me want to listen to every dumb story you’ve ever told.

you want to say because i’ve never felt so calm next to another person in my entire life.

instead, you say, “because when i’m with you, i don’t feel like i have to be anyone else.”

his expression shifts.

his jaw tightens. his eyes soften.

he takes a step closer.

“i don’t want to mess this up,” he says.

“you’re not.”

“i don’t want to misread it.”

you exhale, a laugh escaping despite yourself. “you’re not.”

his hand lifts, hesitates — then lands gently against your cheek.

you stop breathing.

“may i kiss you?” he asks.

you nod before your brain catches up.

“yeah,” you whisper. “you may.”

and he does.

it’s not rushed.

it’s not fiery or desperate.

it’s patient. reverent. like he’s memorizing the feeling. like he’s been waiting for the right moment and this, finally, is it.

his lips press softly against yours, and your hands lift automatically to his jacket, holding on, grounding yourself.

when you part, he leans his forehead against yours.

you’re both quiet for a moment.

then he says, “i’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

you smile. “i could tell.”

“was i too obvious?”

“painfully.”

he laughs, arms sliding around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“this is still new,” he says. “i know that.”

you nod.

“but i’m willing to take it slow.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be patient.”

“okay.”

he pauses. “and i’d like to take you to dinner. an actual dinner. with reservations and menus and probably overpriced appetizers.”

you grin. “are you asking me on a real date?”

he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“yes,” he says. “i’m asking.”

“then yes,” you reply. “i’m saying yes.”

you walk home hand-in-hand.

you don’t have to say anything.

it’s not pretending anymore.

and for once — finally — that feels like enough.

Unfinished. Won't finish.

im alive! surprise!!!

anyways, this trend but with shoji :3

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲? 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. • 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐣𝐢 × 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

contains: mention of sucky parents, shoji's horrible village, scars, CUTENESS, FLUFF, shoji being a cutie patootie, mwah mwah kissy kissy

ENJOY!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

The rain poured down onto the pavement as I trudged across the grounds. I had forgotten my umbrella once again, and I hadn't expected it to start storming just as I was heading home. Well, as much as a home it could be. 

I had no money for the bus or train, my phone was dead, and even if I could call my parents I knew they wouldn't come to pick me up. They had never cared much for me, even once I got accepted into UA, they gave me the cold shoulder.

The sound of feet slapping against the wet pavement pulled me out of my pity party. I glanced up to be met with black eyes. Shoji. He held out an umbrella, covering my trembling form, "want me to walk you home?" His deep voice startled me, my eyes widening slightly. "Oh no, you don't have to..." He shook his head, his gaze searching for mine, "I don't mind."

Turning to the side, I averted his gaze, "my house is pretty far, I don't want to make you walk so far." I stepped closer, "again, I really don't mind. I could use the walk anyway." His eyes were piercing, and I looked away quickly, nodding slowly. "Alright..." The silence was thick and tense, one of his arms holding the umbrella over me, the other two resting idly at his side. His firm but gentle voice dragging me out of my thoughts, "Are you... scared of me?" his voice trembled ever so slightly. My head snapped up, "scared? Of you? Why would I be scared?" He shook his head, "Sorry that was stupid... it's just, you always act so nervous, I was worried it was because of me."

My cheeks darkened as I realized what he was talking about. I had had a crush on Shoji ever since I met him. His strong form, and gentle words always managed to put me at ease. "I could never be scared of you, Shoji." His gentle gaze met mine, and I swear I could see hints of red peaking out from his mask. He cleared his throat, looking back down to the pavement. "I'm glad." 

It was silent again, save for the splash of our feet hitting the ground, and the thoughts racing in my head. Why would he ever think I was scared of him? Who could ever be scared of such a gentle person like Shoji? These questions tore against my mind, and before I could stop myself, my lips were moving. "Why would you think I'd be scared of you?" He stopped dead in his tracks, and I turned to face him, my hands fiddling nervously in front of me. His dark eyes met mine slowly, before swerving away.

"Most people are. Or disgusted." His voice was low, wavering, and my hand involuntarily reached up to grab at one of his free hands. Our fingers laced together, his eyes meeting mine once again, an unsureness I had never seen before settled in his dark gaze. "I could never be disgusted by you, Shoji," I spoke quietly, tentatively. "Mezo. Please." I smiled gently at his words, "Mezo." I tried the name out, it sounded foreign yet somehow... right, on my tongue. "Thank you..." He spoke lowly, almost nervously.

My eyebrows scrunched in concern as he didn't meet my eyes. Something was still wrong, and I was unsure what to do. "What's wrong?" He shook his head, "nothing." "I know you're lying, Mezo." I could feel him shiver slightly, and whether that was due to the cold or my words, I would never know. I looked up at the sky, the rain still poured down, and we were still quite far from my home. I looked back to him, his face hung low, his silver hair sweeping over his eyes, the pale blue mask covering his other features. I had never asked why he wore the mask, but suddenly, I had the strong urge to know what lay beneath it.

I stepped closer, his form looming over mine, my free hand moving from my side to his face. I gently trailed my fingers over the edge of his mask, his face jerking up to see me better. "Why do you wear this mask?" I questioned, my voice holding only curiosity. His eyes held a slight fear, so I retracted my hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" "No, please, it's... I... don't mind." His voice quivered, and held an emotion I couldn't quite place. Longing? I didn't know.

I rested my hand on his shoulder, waiting patiently for his answer. "It's... it doesn't really matter..." I shook my head, "please, I want to know." His gaze uncertain, his shoulders tense. He sighed, "my village... doesn't exactly like heteromorphs. You don't need to hear my sob story but... people were afraid of my face, so I covered it. Hoping people would be less afraid of me if I wasn't so scary looking." His hand that was interlaced with mine trembled slightly, I rubbed my thumb soothingly against the back of his. "You're not scary," he chuckled humorlessly, "You wouldn't say that if you knew what I looked like." I took a breath, "then show me."

His eyes widened, "w—what?" "Show me, Mezo, I want to know what you look like. Then I can determine how scary you really are." I grinned slowly, he shook his head, "no—no I don't want to lose you—" I laughed at the thought, "Lose me? That will never happen. I swear by it. Even if I'm frightened, I won't leave you, ever." His gaze was wide, unbelieving, hopeful. He looked away. "Are... are you sure?" I nodded.

His hand dropped from mine. He wordlessly reached his hand up, hesitating over his mask, before hooking his finger in and pulling it down. My jaw fell as a small gasp escaped my lips. Scary? He was beautiful. His lips were long and thin, scars trailed over just about every inch of skin I could see. Once again I wondered how anyone could be scared of him, and for the first time I wondered, 'What happened to him?' He looked at me nervously, his hand fiddling with the fabric of his mask. I was snapped out of my daze as he opened his mouth to speak, scarred skin pulling at his lips, and revealing his perfectly white teeth, "Y/N...?" He had never said my name before. He had never spoken to me with his actual mouth. I felt a sudden surge of affection for him, my heart twisting painfully. 

Suddenly I was moving, wrapping my arms around his neck and crashing my lips into his. He startled, dropping the umbrella, causing the rain to hit me once again, drenching our bodies. I pulled away, "I'm sorry—I—I shouldn't ha—" He cut me off, his lips crashing against mine once again. All of his 6 limbs wrapped around my smaller form, his main two coming up to my neck, holding me gently to his face as his lips moved against mine. Another pair wrapped around my back, hands caressing and tugging, at my hair, on my back; the last pair fit snug around my waist, his thumbs gently brushing against the skin of my stomach that had been revealed.

It was overwhelming, yet oh so wonderfully him. I melted into his touch, my fingers entangled in his hair, running across the scars on his neck and his face. He hummed against my lips, his touch gentle and yet bruising at the same time. I tilted my head to the side slightly, his lips moved feverishly against mine, the kiss deep and warm. We pulled away from each other slowly, gasping for air. I rested my head against his chest, his strong arms pulling me flush against him.

I was suddenly aware of the rain pouring down, my hair and clothes soaked through. "My apartment is right around the corner, stay with me? At least until the rain stops." I nodded, grinning up at him. His face turned red as he pulled a hand from where it rested on my neck to cover my head from the rain. I ran my hand through his soaked hair, and our lips met again. Slow and gentle, nothing like the first one which was hot and quick. I smiled against his lips, pulling away slightly. "You could never be scary, Mezo. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

1.4k words

i am a FIRM mezo shoji lover, he has my heart forever and always. he doesn't get enough love (cept for you blair-vvitch, ily) so I HAD to write something for him. everytime I see his little face I get horrible cuteness aggression so I attempted to showcase that in this. hope you liked it heehee

Just wanted to put this out there.

Izuku, loves chubby girls.

🌸

Masterlist

Entering middle school, Izuku would always be teasingly askwd what his type was, where the assholes in question would say things like “he’s definitely gay.” And “he’s into blind girls cause they’re the only ones who’d date him!”

He always just rolled his eyes at these comments and questions, but as he got a little older, and his hormones started to shift him from a boy to a young man, he started to actually wonder what his type was.

Izuku would often find himself on the internet, scrolling through different modeling sites, looking at the different girls showing off hero merch or other clothing. He knew it was a bit perverted, but he blamed it on his curiosity.

However, none of them ever caught his eye.

It wasn’t that they were ugly, they were gorgeous women, but none of them really set him off.

Fast forward to UA, and our green eyes king is meeting some new people, making friends, busting his ass to become a hero.

About one semester of school in, and Aizawa announces the school’s transfer student program.

Awesome! Another student to add to the amazinf list of quirks and personalities? Izuku can’t wait to meet them!

The day eventually rolls around when this mystery student is supposed to be moving into the dorms; the class had made dinner and set up some fun games to get to know each other. It was going to be fun!

Izuku and the rest of the class had waited, Izuku excitedly rambling to Iida and Uraraka about potential quirks, nationalities and really anything he could think of.

However, when he sees you walking next to Aizawa with a few bags, his heart drops.

You were..gorgeous.

His eyes were instantly drawn to your thick thighs, with no gap between them as they filled out your jeans, the slight pudge of your stomach that made you look so soft and warm, how your arms filled out your sleeves, and your round, baby face with chubby cheeks.

Izuku had no idea what to say as the rest of the students welcomed you to their class. He felt a bit bad for blatantly staring at your plush body, but god-damn he couldn’t help it.

He managed to choke out a greeting after everyone else, making your eyes land on him.

You noticed his eyes stuck on your body, and you smiled a bit, his bright red blush not lost on you.

Fast forward to graduation, you’d gotten pretty close with Izuku.

He was the boy you’d consider your best friend, sweet, affectionate, shy, and everything you could ask for in a friend; you trusted him, and he trusted you.

At the graduation party, Kaminari and Mineta had spiked the drinks there, a cliche thing do to, especially for fresh out of high school graduates.

You had a single cup from the start of the party, but after Mina had a few cups and ended up getting drunk, you decided to stick to water instead.

Poor Izuku on the other hand, was probably a few cups deep himself, and he was wasted.

When you found him, he was drunkenly crying, clinging onto Bakugou and whining about how much he loved you.

When you finally got over your shock, you walked over to Izuku, who lit up when he saw you.

“Baby!” He slurred out as he stumbled over to you, hugging you tightly “h-how is my gorgeous girl?” He mumbled into your neck as his hands rested on the rolls of your back.

You flushed bright red, stammering out some syllables.

Izuku giggled and cupped your cheeks with his calloused and scarred hands “look at your cute face~” he slurred out with a dopey grin, “s-so prettyy..”

You melted into his touch and looked up at him with hooded eyes..damn him and his stupidly adorable features. Damn him.

You don’t even know how you got here, laying in your bed with Izuku on top of you. Your shirt was nowhere to be found, and his hands were traveling your torso so softly and slowly as he pressed little kisses to your soft stomach.

You gently combed your fingers through his hair, watching as he gently kneaded the soft, warm pudge of your stomach, the way he smiled and rested his cheek on your chubby belly making you both vulnerable and incredibly shy feeling.

“Y-you’re so..pretty..” he said as he placed a kiss on one of the stretch marks on your stomach. “These are so c-cool..like..like lightning..”

You laughed a little at his dopey grin, seeing him so enamored with something you’d previously been insecure about, and he was lavishing your body with kisses.

When Izuku eventually did fall asleep, his cheek on your stomach and hands holding your sides, you simply pulled up the blanket over his shoulders and looked up at your ceiling, smiling a little and feeling weirdly appreciated by your drunken best friend.

My point is, Izuku has a thing for chubby girls. He loves the cellulite covering your thighs, your stretch marks over your stomach and thighs and arms, the way your cheeks rounded when you smiled- he couldn’t get enough of your soft body.

Izuku loves you for who you are, but it helps that you happen to be his ideal body type.

~~

Felt like writing this randomly, I started it yesterday when my mom and I were watching MHA word Heroes’ mission, but finally finished it today. Wanted to write some fluff for all of my fellow chubby girls out there. <3

miss pretty

{single dad!katsuki bakugo x kindergarten teacher f!reader}

summary: katsuki bakugo has never liked mess and always made sure his son and his life reflected just that. with years worth of a sparkling clean and organized home, toys put away and not once scattered about, and a barking knack over any calls of disorder in his life— meeting you, his sons sweet and sugary kindergarten teacher who was the definition of pure and who was for some reason turning his fiery heart into complete goo— was altering his boring strict cycles of no messes around… and for the better.

warnings: cursing, FLUFFF GALORE MY GAWD??, no smut but a lil steamy something, slight angst, afab!reader, katsuki thinks you are an ANGEL, sunshine x grumpy trope, mentions of abandonment, WHOLESOME AFFF, use of y/n, all characters are aged up.

word count: 11.4k

authors note: THIS MAKES ME WANT TO BE A MOTHERRRRR omg this one is sickeningly sweet and i’ve gotten a few requests to do sunshine x grumpy with sir katsuki and i WAS ALLL OVERRR ITTT i hope i fulfilled!!! <333 THANK YOU THANK YOU AS ALWAYS FOR ALL OF YOU BEING SOOO SWEETT TO MEEE I LOVE YOUUUU MWAAAHHH :] <33333

katsuki bakugo hated messes.

“oi!” he grunted, his son’s little head turning to look at him as he munched on his gummy fruit snacks from the backseat. “you better not leave that wrapper in here. take it outside with you when i drop you off.”

“kaaayyy!” his son dragged out happily, completely unphased by his dads snappy personality as he contemplated on which color fruit gummy to eat next.

“and wash your hands too. ask your teacher.”

“mhm!” he chirped.

“and don’t be a brat. pay attention.”

“yup yup!”

and for the most part, his life reflected that almost entirely— raising his son to always clean up after himself and not make bombastic huge messes around the house, begrudgingly understanding that he’s a small growing human, that a little spill of apple juice or two is basically guaranteed… but he just hated mess, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t raise his son right to be a clean and organized man even at five years old— katsuki keeping everything in his life practically spotless.

that was of course, until he met you.

katsuki shoved through the other parents in line as he went up to the front desk in the main office with a grip on his sons little hand, not giving a damn about the glares and huffs of bewilderment he got as there was no way in hell he was gonna wait like an idiot with the rest of them.

the lady at the front desk raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“can i help—”

“where the fuck is room twenty four.”

her eyes bulged open as the rest of the parents in line softly gasped and murmured.

“e—excuse me?—”

he rolled his eyes.

“room twenty four.” he pushed. “where is it?”

“sir— if you need me to help you i’d like you to wait in line until—”

“hah?! absolutely not.” he spat. “if i wait in that fucking line my son’s gonna be late why can’t you just tell me—”

“uh sir if you could—”

katsuki’s son giggled as he continued to spout profanities at the poor front desk lady.

“—sir please no foul language there are children around—”

“i don’t give a shit! just tell me where room twenty four is what the hell is so hard about that?!—”

“oh! that’s my class!”

katsuki snapped his head over, fiery red eyes shooting towards the voice until they landed on yours.

“is he one of my kids?” you smiled sweetly, eyes coming down to look at his son.

“oh—” he let his shoulders relax just a tad as he watched you fix the strap of his sons backpack on his shoulder. “i mean— if your class is twenty four—“

“it is!” you beamed, nudging your head. “i’ll show you where!”

“hiii miiiissss!” his son greeted, happy and silly as he followed you down the hall.

“hi honey!” you gushed, just as excited as he was as you patted over his blonde scruffy hair. “what’s your name?”

“milo!”

“nice to meet you milo! are you excited for your first day?”

“yeaaahh!” he cheered, smile bright as he grabbed your hand.

katsuki’s eyes widened.

“milo!” he snapped lowly. “what’d i tell ya? you can’t grab her hand like that you have to ask—”

“oh it’s alright!” you dismissed, smiling. “i don’t mind it at all! the other kids do it too.”

milo snickered and stuck his little tongue out at his dad, and katsuki rolled his eyes.

“is he yours?” you asked kindly, tilting your head.

“who else would he be…” he grumbled.

“i guess you’re right!” you giggled. “he looks just like you.”

katsuki’s eyes flickered to yours before dropping back down, a permanent furrow in his brows as you all rounded the corner.

“here we are—”

“ooo! ooo!” milo hopped up and down. “miss you have race cars?! dad can i please go?!”

he looked over, a mountain of toys scattered about in the classrooms play area, little kids already making a damn mess and the school day hadn’t even officially started yet.

“the hell you asking me for? ask your tea—”

“miss miss can i please go play with the race cars?!—”

“of course my love! go! go have fun.” you smiled, gently ushering him on before milo zoomed over to the play area and crouched down with the rest of the kids.

“oi!” katsuki barked. “put them away when you’re done!”

he huffed under his breath as he watched his son give him a thumbs up and fucking dump the entire bucket of race cars down on the ‘abc’ play rug, taking one in each hand and dragging them across floor.

“he’s so cuteee.” you grinned. “i’m glad he’s not afraid being it’s his first day.”

“oh fuck no.” he mumbled. “milo doesn’t care. the little runt doesn’t have a filter and does whatever the hell he wants without askin’ sometimes.”

he leaned against the doorsill as he watched milo converse with another kid and share a car, satisfaction in his chest that his son was sharing and being nice.

“but i guess he gets that from me.” he finished off.

you nodded. “but that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

he pursed his lips.

“in my experience, not really.”

you hummed.

“i think it’s definitely a good thing… i’d rather be assertive of things and not be afraid of what the consequences will be.”

katsuki looked at you, properly this time.

“what’s a kindergarten teacher afraid of?”

you shrugged, a slow playful grin spreading across your face.

“parents.”

he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and you quickly had to look away, a pink buzz to your cheeks at the way his big built arms flexed.

inappropriate inappropriate inappropriate—

“i don’t know how you do it..” he spoke lowly.

“do what?”

“take care of little shits all day.”

you laughed loudly, reeling over a bit as he watched you out of the corner of his eye.

“i don’t take care of them! i teach them.” you quipped cutely. “they’re small, but this is when their brains drink up the most knowledge… and i love to see the progress from the beginning of the year compared to the end! i love it all really.”

pure.

katsuki curtly nodded, your sweet positive ambiance throwing him completely off, as he doesn’t think he’s ever met or surrounded himself around someone who’s directly emmitted the feeling of sunshine and rainbows and candy as much as you did.

and his cheeks flared up for some reason.

“oh!” you looked to the time on your little wrist watch and walked inside your classroom. “it’s almost time to start! i have to wrangle them all in their seats heh!”

katsuki swallowed and nodded.

“milo!”

he turned and upon seeing his dad wave him over, milo dropped his toys and bounded to him.

“don’t give her a hard time alright?” he spoke sternly, nudging his head over at you for emphasis. “listen. listen and learn and be the best one in there.”

“kaaayyy!”

“and you let me know if any of the other kids mess with you or you deal with it yourself. you already know how—”

“beat the crap out of them!” he cheered loudly and katsuki’s hand flew to clasp over his sons mouth before his frantic eyes looked at you.

the last thing he needed was someone to call up fucking child protective services on him.

“he’s joking! he’s joking… fuck.”

you giggled hard and clutched your stomach, your pretty smile sending katsuki for a loop.

“no you’re absolutely right!” you waved your hands in front of your face, reassuring. “treat others the way you want to be treated, so if someone’s being mean to you, bite back milo, okay? and also let me know first though!”

katsuki gave you a wobbly tiny smile amidst his branded serious face, looking at his son then and ruffling up his hair.

“okay, go.” milo ran off. “and don’t let me pick you up with dirt all over your clothes ya hear me?!”

“byeee daaaddd!”

you could tell that behind his harsh exterior— the slight purse of his lips, stiff frame and bouncing leg gave away that he was only worried about his kid and his first day of school, a sight you’ve seen time and time again since you started working as a kindergarten teacher, and one that never failed to warm your heart.

“don’t worry!” you sweetly smiled, and katsuki switched his gaze over to yours. “i’ll watch him especially… okay? to ease the nerves.”

he softly snorted, attempting to play it off but internally relieved as he pushed himself off the doorsill and nodded, thankful that the teacher milo got was as kind as you.

“um…” he mumbled. “katsuki.”

you tilted your head. “katsuki?”

“it’s my name idiot.”

“oh!” you giggled, a blush rising in your cheeks again as you tried to simmer it down. “nice to meet you katsuki! i’ll see you after school then with milo?”

he stiffly nodded, the way his name sounded so sugary off your tongue something he’d never heard before in his life or was used to at all.

“…ya gonna tell me yours or what?”

“sorry!” you sputtered, laughing nervously. “sorry it just— flew! you know—”

you stuck your hand out and offered it to him.

“y/n!”

katsuki untangled his arms and firmly shook it, grip strong and one that nearly made you stumble forward as you caught yourself and smiled.

“i’ll see you katsuki!”

out of all of the kids you’ve taught, milo was by far the cutest one.

the little man was like your personal assistant— a little bee buzzing around as he followed you everywhere in the classroom and helped you clean up after the rest of the kids that didn’t, ‘yelling’ at some of them to and cutely scolding them whenever he’d catch them leave some things behind, and was always on watch for you like a security guard with his little balled up fists on his hips, surveilling the classroom for any misbehaving kids or messes that you’d missed throughout the day.

all traits you no doubt knew he got from katsuki, even if you had just met him. it was pleasantly obvious.

“thanks for helping me out today, milo!” you gushed, pushing another students chair in as they all sat down and chattered for lunch. “you made my job a lot easier!”

“really?!” he squealed, big glimmering eyes beaming up at you before he happily chowed down on some apple slices.

and you noticed then milo’s lunch was insane, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut up and molded neatly into the shape of panda bears, his watermelon and apple slices shaped like stars with carrots and celery lined up with a little wedge of lemon if he wished, tiny rice balls on the side for a little snack you figured in case what he had didn’t fill him up— all so considerate and careful…

“wow!” you exclaimed, kneeling down next to him. “your lunch looks so yummy my love! did your mommy make this?”

“nuh uh!” he shook his head, cheeks filled with watermelon. “my dad did!”

you faltered.

“katsuki made this?”

“who’s katsuki miss?” he asked curiously, sipping on his little juice box after swallowing the fruit in his mouth.

you giggled. “nothing! nothing. enjoy your lunch okay?”

you went to stand, but milo’s hand shot out and caught your wrist.

“can you— can you eat lunch with me?” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with some carrot pieces in his hands. “please.. i always eat with my dad but he’s not here…”

your eyes softened and you quickly nodded.

“of course! let me just go grab my lunch and ill bring it over! sounds good?”

“yaaaayyyy!” he cheered happily, arms up as you scooched a tiny chair over from a nearby table and sat with him, laughing at his cute expression.

you knew you shouldn’t use a little kid to pry… but you were guiltily curious as to know if katsuki was married or not for reasons that made you ridiculously flustered and red in the face over.

and you wanted to be respectful in case he was… since the ogling you did at his muscles this morning through his black ribbed tank was the most embarrassing moment of your career and one you hadn’t seen coming at all, it catching you off guard and feeling horrible if katsuki indeed had a wife.

but he didn’t have a ring on his finger…

“milo?” you spoke up softly.

he smiled big. “yes miss!”

“does your mommy make you lunch as well or just your dad?”

he shook his head. “just my dad! i don’t have a mom.”

your shoulders deflated.

he didn’t have a mom… at all?

you slowly reached over then and patted his blonde hair, smiling warmly as his cheeks went pink. “that’s alright! i’m sure your dad makes you lunches like this every time huh?”

“yeah!” he gasped excitedly. “yesterday he made pizzas and cut them into dinosaurs! it was so cool! and then!— and then this morning for breakfast i had waffles that looked like dynamite blasts!”

“oh my goodness!” you giggled, your heart absolutely thumping over the fact that katsuki was so dedicated to his son like that. “man, i wish my lunches were as cute as yours!”

his little eyes snapped to yours.

“i’ll tell him!”

your brows furrowed confusedly. “wha—”

“to make you lunch! i’ll tell my dad to make you lunch!”

your eyes widened and you frantically shook your head, cheeks blazing as you laughed. “oh no my love! that’s totally okay don’t worry about me silly—”

“i’ll tell him i’ll tell him i’ll tell him!—”

“milo it’s okay! i’m a big girl.” you grinned. “i’m supposed to make my own lunches.”

milo grumbled and plopped a carrot in his mouth, begrudgingly chewing as he sat there in thought.

“…will you at least let me share some of mine?”

you pouted at his generosity, wondering how a kid could be so sweet as you nodded and held your hand up.

“of course sweetie! whatever you wa—”

milo plopped all of his peanut butter sandwiches in your palm and grinned, earning a gasp from you.

“milo this is too much i can’t—”

“eat it! eat it! eait it!—”

by the end of the day, you managed to get milo to take back his sandwiches in exchange for one singular watermelon star piece, him still doing his regular duties of being your little assistant and helping you clean up after everyone before the final bell rang signaling the end of class, you carefully making sure each kiddo got their designated backpack (as there was often a mix up) and art pieces they made for their parents to take home— a permission slip for the end of the year field trip tucked away inside their bags.

and the minute you stepped outside with the rest of the kids, you were surprised to see that katsuki was one of the first parents there as he stood directly across from your classroom with crossed arms, an angry usual scowl on his face that made you laugh to yourself as you led your kids to sit down on a bench in a single file line until their parents physically came to get them or their vehicles pulled up.

“milo!” you tapped his shoulder gently. “your daddy’s over there!”

“DAAADDD!!”

milo jumped up and ran across the grass, his tiny arms out as katsuki smiled softly and crouched down to pick his son up and settle him on his lower abdomen, you wringing your fingers behind your back and walking up to them.

“were you a brat?” he grunted.

“nope!”

“did any kids mess with you?”

“nope!”

“did you leave a mess?”

“nope!”

you giggled, and katsuki’s eyes snapped in your direction.

“how was he?”

“he did so good!” you gushed, patting milo’s back as he grinned. “was my little helper and everything! didn’t leave a single mess behind and helped me clean up after everyone else… he even made sure everyone was paying attention and not misbehaving.”

“yeah! yeah! see dad?” milo poked his dads cheek. “i didn’t lie!”

“never said you lied you little runt.” he scowled. “…but good job.”

“thanks!”

katsuki set him down after milo started kicking his legs and saying something about the swings, him instantly running towards the playground and to the slide.

“did he actually do all of that?” he spoke up.

“oh yes!” you quickly nodded. “i’ve never had a kid do that before so it was really nice of him to!”

you detached your fingers from around your back and fiddled with them.

“you teach him well katsuki.”

he scoffed and turned his head, cheeks pink as he tried to regain his composure.

“damn right i do.”

you giggled then, the memory of milo telling you he didn’t have a mother suddenly popping into your mind as you watched him happily slide down the blue slide head first.

“hey i don’t mean to um..” you timidly began. “i don’t mean to pry but—”

katsuki raised a brow at you and you snapped your mouth shut.

“nothing! nothing nevermind—”

“spit it out.”

“no it’s alright! sorry i—”

he glared and you cowered, smiling bashfully as you bit your bottom lip.

“milo… milo mentioned that he didn’t have a mommy? i was just— wondering if that was true…”

“tch—” he shook his head. “that’s what you were afraid of askin’ me?”

“i told you i’m scared of parents…” you slumped cutely, and he chuckled.

“it’s just me and him.” he answered. “his mom’s never been a part of our lives.”

your heart sunk a little, eyes sad as your gaze shifted to milo playing and racing around with another kid.

“don’t do that.”

you jumped and looked at katsuki.

“do— do what—”

“look all sad and shit.”

he hesitantly reached over and planted an index finger to the crease between your brows, the feeling rough as he tried to gently drag it down and smooth over the lines.

“it’s fine.” he grumbled, letting his arm fall to his side. “it doesn’t bother him. at least i don’t think it does.”

“no!” you spoke quickly, a crazed blush on your cheeks. “it doesn’t! and milo speaks so highly of you… especially the lunches you make him.”

his brows furrowed. “his lunch?”

“yeah!” you nodded excitedly. “you prepare it so so well! how do you get his sandwiches to look like little bears? and his fruit?! every time i try to cut mine into stars they always break in half…”

he huffed out a laugh, finding your little whine funny as he reached over and ruffled up your hair, you smiling cheekily in response.

“do you use molds?” you asked politely. “to shape out the bear?”

“fuck no.” he scoffed. “i do it myself.”

your eyes flew open.

“what?! so that’s really just you? and the dinosaurs too? the pizza dinosaurs? and the waffles? the ones that looked like dynamite blasts—”

“jesus christ how much did that kid tell you?”

your face grew hot as you smacked a hand over your mouth.

“sorry!” you giggled. “i just was thinking— that his lunch was really cute and thoughtful…” you took your hand away from your face. “i’m really glad that you do little things like that for milo to make him happy.”

katsuki stared at you, your swarm of compliments and sweetness and sunshine and butterflies almost suffocating as you looked at him with those pretty doe eyes, his throat oddly closing up the longer he stared right back and allowed you to pull him into your world of wonder and abc blocks and puzzles.

but it wasn’t suffocating in a bad way, not at all.

and… maybe he did want you to pull him in.

“dad dad dad!”

milo ran over, sweaty and red faced as he reached the two of you.

“there’s a dead lizard in the slide!”

“a dead lizard?” you laughed, surprised as you reached for his little water bottle from his backpack on the ground and uncapped the lid, handing it over and ushering him to drink.

katsuki didn’t know why the domestic sight of you doing that made him melt a bit.

a bit.

“yeah miss! it was big and gross.” he breathed out after gulping some of his icy cold water. “but i buried him!”

his dads red eyes snapped down to his and narrowed.

“don’t tell me you touched that thing milo.”

“i did!” he giggled.

“oh my fucking god—” katsuki snatched his hand and started pulling him to the car as milo giggled and stuck his tongue out.

“it’s a prank! some other girl in my class did… but i helped with the dirt!”

you chuckled softly as you watched katsuki stop and roll his eyes, coming back over to you with a hyper milo.

“say bye to your teacher ya little runt. and you’re still taking a shower when you get home!”

“but i don’t wanna take a showeerrr!” milo whined, letting go of his dads hand and running to you, you crouching and extending your arms big with a pretty smile.

“bye my love!” you hugged him tight as he giggled. “i’ll see you tomorrow okay? and give your daddy a break. no more digging up dirt and playing with dead lizards.”

“kaayyyy!”

you both let go and he stepped back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before bouncing back to his dad.

katsuki choked on his spit.

“oi!” he barked. “you can’t just kiss her cheek milo the hell is going on with you?!—”

“it’s okay don’t worry!” you smiled kindly. “he’s just being sweet is all! i don’t mind.”

“you sure?” he pushed, milo snickering. “i—”

you waved him off and wrung your fingers behind your back, leaning forward.

“i’ll see you tomorrow morning kats!”

and he froze, nodding hard as he quickly took milo’s hand and backpack before walking to the car, his heart completely aflame in his chest and cheeks red as he led his babbling son further into the parking lot and inside the car, buckling him up in his car seat before hopping in himself and starting the engine, unbelieving that he had barely just met you and he was already thinking and acting like a fucking dumbass.

“and then we learned the days of the week! oh!— and we learned numbers! i can count to fifteen dad!”

“that’s good milo.” he responded, pulling out of the schools parking lot and craning his neck to see if he could catch a final glimpse of you and settling once he did, you so pretty and conversing so nicely with another kid until he was out of the lot.

“did you eat all of your lunch? y/n tells me ya shared with her.”

“i did! i did share with her.” he grinned. “she liked my lunch!”

“good.” katsuki gave him a thumbs up through the rear view mirror. “that’s good that you always share. especially with her.”

“yup yup! she’s preeettyyy.”

he rolled his eyes, but a small smile grew at the corner of his lips as he nodded curtly.

“that she is.”

katsuki continued to drop off his son personally at your classroom every morning before school.

even when it had been a couple of months into the year, at this point many students already used to their route to and out of class and their parents just dropping them off and leaving— them not even allowed on campus as security rounded every corner and told any parents who wished to go in that they weren’t supposed to, as per policy.

but not katsuki.

katsuki didn’t give a fuck as he stormed through the main office and ignored the calls of the front desk lady, her already used to the rude asshole who came through the building every morning as he strode by and down the hall to class twenty four… wanting to see you— his son’s pretty kindergarten teacher that was sweet and joyful and someone who was everything he wasn’t, his mind curious and filled with your giggles and smiles throughout the time that he’d gotten to know you and chat with you in the mornings and the afternoons, loving the way you were with milo and treated him like he was literally your own— always watching over him and making sure he had had enough to eat and drink and that his hands were washed when he wasn’t around.

and even katsuki himself— you bringing him candy bags from their classroom parties or donuts that were passed to faculty in the mornings and saving yours for him, treats he always took and ate with no questions asked even though he wasn’t a fan of sugary shit and junk food, always making the exception for you.

he had never experienced honest help like that… he’d never experienced someone caring enough about him and his son like the way you did so perfectly every single day…

and katsuki feared that he was a little obsessed.

“oh! miss y/n!”

“yes honey?” you responded kindly, opening a juice pouch for another student and handing it to them carefully during lunch.

milo dug into his lunch pail and pulled out a small container, sticking his hand up and offering it to you.

your brows furrowed, taking it from him.

“what’s this milo?”

“it’s from my dad!”

you stopped, heart dropping to your ass as you recounted his words.

from katsuki?

“your— your dad?”

“mhm!”

you shakily popped the lid of the container open, eyes widening and filling with hearts once you saw a mix of star shaped strawberries and watermelon and papayas, drizzled over with sparkling strings of honey and singular little blueberries scattered about.

“for me?” you asked softly, crouching down next to milo. “my love— are you sure this isn’t for you? i think your dad cut these up for you—”

“nope! for you!” he gave you a big toothy smile before stuffing his mouth with crackers. “he told me not to eat it and to give it to you.”

he swallowed and reached up, you tilting down your head so he could pat it just like you always did for him.

“i hope you like it miss! they look like the ones you told me looked cute!”

“i— i love them milo.. thank you!”

you picked up a papaya piece and ate it, entirely dazed and love struck as your tastebuds savored over the sweet velvety thick honey, literally blinking back tears at how thoughtful and kind katsuki was.

he didn’t have to do this at all… yet he took the time anyways out of his morning to do this for you.

and your heart nearly fucking gave out.

after school once you got your rowdy kids to sit neatly on the bench and wait for their parents, you extended a hand for milo and he hopped off the bench and took it, you both walking up to a waiting katsuki as he stood there with a soft smile on his face.

“hi kats!”

“hey.” he picked his son up and settled him over his abdomen, milo’s arms clinging around his neck and chin propped up on his dads shoulder as he was exhausted from a days worth of playing and learning.

“i wanted to um—” you peered up at him. “i um—”

his brows furrowed, and just as he was about to bark about you stumbling over your words, he stopped.

your bottom lip was trembling.

you hurriedly wiped your eyes.

“i wanted to thank you—” hic! “f—for the star shaped fruit this morning—”

“why are you crying dumbass?” he mumbled, reaching over and wiping some tears with his rough fingers.

“because it was so nice!” you sobbed, shoulders shaking as you let him wipe your cheeks. “and— and you put honey over it too! you didn’t have to do any of that for me!”

“tch—”

he flicked your forehead softly, not enough to hurt you but enough to get you to snap out of your hiccups as you sniffled.

“it’s just fruit y/n—”

“but it’s not.” you wiped your eyes again. “not to me anyways…”

katsuki slowly lowered his arm, gaze tracing over your pretty face and perfect hair and the way you cried over something so stupid, his brain unable to process the fact that an act as simple as cutting fruit up for you could make you this happy, and it made him want to see what you saw for once— how you saw the world for exactly what it was and appreciated it regardless of how big or small things were, not snippy or angry or spiteful over everyone and thinking everything was out to get him and his son.

“crybaby…” he grumbled. “i’m glad you liked it though.”

“i did kats.. a lot. thank you.” you wiped the last of your tears and smiled. “i’m sorry i cried.”

what a pretty sweet girl…

he shook his head and hoisted milo up, him completely knocked out with drool coming out of his mouth as katsuki felt it run down his shoulder, barely even noticing that though as his entire focus was trained purely on you.

was it okay if he… asked you out? would it be weird? would you tell him to fuck off?

katsuki internally rolled his eyes at his stupid fucking high school boy thoughts, though it didn’t alleviate the gnawing feeling that if you did tell him to fuck off… that he’d be angrily mortified at his fail and probably lose the right to talk to you since it’d be too awkward to.

but you were just so fucking sweet. all of the time.

“listen uh—” he cleared his throat, face growing hot. “i was wondering if ya wanted to eat dinner with me… sometime.”

you stared, eyes big and shocked and katsuki took it defensively and entirely the wrong way.

“forget it.” he snapped. “forget it i didn’t say shit—”

“no! no no—” you quickly shook your head. “no it’s okay i would!”

he stopped.

“you would?”

“of course!” you expressed sweetly, cheeks hurting from how big you were smiling as you tried to simmer down your giddy squeals. “i’d love to have dinner with you…”

his tense shoulders slowly relaxed, an eventual small smile growing on his face.

“a—alright uh…” he sighed. “i’d prefer to take ya somewhere nice but i don’t really have anyone to watch milo—”

you shook your head again, brows pinched. “oh no kats— we don’t have to go anywhere at all! we can order something in at your place and eat with milo? or— or my place?”

“my place.” he replied. “and i’ll cook.”

he cooks?!

“okay!” you giggled, your hand reaching up and patting over milo’s sleepy head gently. “sounds good!”

katsuki and you agreed on the details of the date after and bid each other bashful goodbyes, swooning as you watched him walk away into the parking lot with a sleeping milo in his arms and feeling like none of this was fucking real, for you couldn’t believe someone as handsome and cool as katsuki would ever be interested in someone like you.

and funnily enough, he felt the complete opposite, stressed and extra snappy as he cleaned the house from top to bottom (though it barely needed it), unnecessarily fixed the positioning of the furniture and made milo put away his toys, him not even whining or protesting like he usually did solely because the little man knew you were coming— pretty miss y/n with the pretty smile and the nicest lady he had ever met, and one he secretly hoped would be his new mommy every time he saw you and his dad converse before and after school, thinking you would fit the role perfectly.

especially after his dad had given you those fruits as a present!

“milo!” katsuki called. “come ‘ere!”

his son ran into the kitchen, toy race car in hand. “what!”

“be good today, ya hear me?” he pushed, face stern as he flipped a kitchen towel over his shoulder and sautéed vegetables in his frying pan. “please milo. don’t try to be funny and do somethin’ to scare y/n off.”

milo gave him a look.

“scare miss y/n off? dad you’re gonna scare her off not me!” he giggled. “silly.”

“yeah..” he grunted. “you’re probably right but i’m just sayin’. i’m thinking of the time grandma came over and ya put that fake rat in her purse to try and be funny.”

“ohhh yeeeeah!” he doubled over in little fits of laughter, holding his stomach as he did. “i did do that!”

“see what i mean?” katsuki grumbled, snatching the kitchen towel from his shoulder and throwing it down on the counter top, stepping back to peek in the oven. “you better not do that with y/n please.”

“i won’t!” he grinned. “not when she’s about to be my new mommy!”

katsuki choked as his spit went down the wrong pipe, bending over and coughing uncontrollably in his elbow before spinning around and looking at his son with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

“the hell you just say?”

“what!” milo tilted his head. “that y/n is gonna be my new mommy?”

his eyes grew even wider as he dropped the pan he was holding on the stove and leaned back, running his hands over his face.

“oh you little runt please don’t say that in front of her, alright?”

he pouted. “why not?”

“you’ll scare her off! worse than when you put that fake rat in grandmas purse!”

“boooo!” milo stuck his tongue out and crossed his little arms over his chest. “whatever.”

“oi!”

“what!”

katsuki’s doorbell chimed and milo booked it to the front door.

“missss preettyyyy!!—”

“milo get your ass back here!—”

katsuki swung the door open and swooped his son in his arms just as he was about to pounce on you in midair, you giggling and covering your mouth as you watched the scene unfold before you.

“i’m sorry—”

“hiii misss y/nnn!” milo greeted happily, dangling off of his dad as katsuki tried to stop him from wiggling out of his grip. “i’m so exciteeeddd!—”

“hi my love!” you gushed warmly, smile wide as you extended your arms and walked forward, taking milo in your arms and setting him on your hip. “how are you? you excited to hang out with meee?”

“yes! yes!” he vigorously nodded. “i wanna show you all my race cars!”

“oh i can’t wait to seeee!” you bounced him on your hip and he giggled, you turning your attention and smiling at katsuki.

“hi kats!”

“the little brat is hogging—”

milo blew a silly raspberry at him before wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face into your neck.

you laughed and ran a soothing hand over the little man’s back, katsuki rolling his eyes before stepping to the side and letting you in, shutting the door behind him and leading you over to the kitchen.

and jesus christ you looked beautiful, him noting that pink was what you mainly wore on the day to day as he eyed your small rosy cardigan, you walking through his home and looking around and oblivious to the way he was staring at you like a fucking creep.

katsuki bit the inside of his cheek as he watched your eyes scan your surroundings, stupidly nervous about what you’d think of his house and furniture and minuscule decorations, and annoyed with himself that he’d even give a shit about something like that, trying to occupy himself and ignore it as he looked in the oven and lifted lids of various pots and pans, checking over tonight’s dinner.

“i’m sorry i’m behind…” he grumbled and waved his hand around. “had to clean the house and shower milo since he decided to play in the fuckin’ mud this morning.”

“oh you don’t have to apologize for that kats!” you looked at him worriedly. “you don’t have to apologize for anything i totally understand…”

you hoisted milo further up your hip and grinned. “i’m just happy to spend time with the both of you.”

katsuki felt smoke puff out of his red ears as he nodded and scratched the back of his neck, turning slightly and lifting the lids from his pots and pans again.

“miss preettyyyy!” milo whined. “when can i show you my race cars?!”

katsuki scowled and you laughed.

“now honey! but how about we move some of your toys to the living room so i can spend time with both you and dad? how does that sound?”

“yayayay!!” milo cheered, bouncing on your hip as you smiled cutely and set him down, him running off down the hall and you quickly following after him.

milo talked you through his entire collection of race cars as you both sat down on the living room rug— telling you the model of each and every one, what they did, how fast they went, they places they’d gone, and which were his favorites as you excitedly talked to him about his cars and shifted conversation between him and katsuki, a task he was surprised you did so efficiently, but then quickly realized that that was literally your fucking job everyday dealing with little brats talking your ears off and you attending all of them at the same time.

and when it came around to dinner time, you helped katsuki set up even through his snapping and huffing that you absolutely shouldn’t, you giving him a silly little face as you assisted anyways and set up milo’s booster seat, picking him up and sitting him down before buckling him up while katsuki placed your dishes on the table—

and gourmet fucking dishes at that.

you were bewildered. absolutely bewildered as you gawked over the lasagna platter he set before you, it delicate and fancy looking as he had even draped sauce on your gray ceramic plate in gourmet intricate designs, knowing that katsuki had mentioned to you he was a chef over the several months you’d gotten to know him, but you didn’t know exactly to which extent that chef occupation stretched to.

“kats…” you murmured. “what do you do for a living.”

“i told you idiot.” he passed over a couple of napkins and you gratefully took them, taking one then and wiping down milo’s mouth as he messily ate his cut up pieces of lasagna. “i’m a cook.”

“yeah but what kind? where?”

“why?” he gruffed. “does it look like shit?”

“no!” you giggled. “absolutely not the opposite actually! this is probably the most beautiful lasagna i’ve ever seen in my life.”

“duh.” he responded, but sent you a small smile as he ate. “i’m an executive chef down at a restaurant in the city.”

your jaw dropped. “the city?! you’re so cool kats! oh my goodness!”

his face flushed.

“my dad says his boss is a piece of—”

“don’t say it!” katsuki snapped at his son, eyes wide as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing, not wanting to encourage the little man any further.

“milo i told ya not to cuss until you’re ten—”

“ten?!” you giggled loudly and let your hand fall, sticking your fork in your lasagna and eating. “as long as he cusses with you and not at you… i think it should be fine!”

katsuki stopped.

you get it. or you rile up his bad cussing habit. either or he might as well have found his fucking soulmate.

“miss pretty!” milo called.

“yes my love?”

“do you have a boyfriend?”

katsuki smacked a hand on his forehead and you snickered.

“i don’t!” you grinned. “why milo?”

“because i want you to be my new—”

“milo if ya shut your mouth right now i’ll buy you two new race cars tomorrow.”

his son gasped dramatically and pursed his lips shut, eyes big and excited as he tried to contain himself and do as told.

“his new what?” you tilted your head cutely, katsuki’s heart hammering against his rib cage as he stuffed his mouth with food.

he shrugged. “the fuck should i know?”

“but i wanna know!” you pouted, taking your final bites of your yummy dinner.

he swallowed.

“do you want dessert?”

you gasped. “oh my god yes! i do!”

“then i suggest you shut your mouth too.”

you laughed over the table, quickly nodding as you pursed your lips like milo and pinched your thumb and index finger together, running it across your mouth and twisting your wrist like a pretend lock before dropping your hand in your lap, giddy and excited over dessert.

katsuki playfully rolled his eyes and stood, collecting all of your plates and stacking them on top of each other before taking them over to the sink.

“dad!” milo called as he bounced in his seat, katsuki grunting in response.

“what’d you make for dessert!”

“mochi.”

“yaaaayyyyy!” he cheered happily. “can i eat it with y/n in the living room?”

katsuki’s brows furrowed. “the living room?”

“yeah!” milo exclaimed. “so i can keep showing her my race cars!”

he struggled for a moment before eventually nodding. “alright… but don’t make a mess i just cleaned—”

you and milo ended up building a fucking fort once he gave you the all clear, you both saying something about it adding to the ambiance as you used the couch cushions for makeshift walls and milo’s choo choo train sheets for the roof and tent, katsuki before he knew it his entire living room a fucking mess as the three of you sat amongst the scattered about pillows and blankets eating your bits of mochi, milo mainly inside the little tent you made for him as you and katsuki were too big to fit inside with him.

his living room was a mess… but he didn’t mind.

katsuki didn’t mind the mess.

your way of living was entirely different from his, as yours had everything to do with mess due to your full time job with kids— paint all over your hands and face, marker stains on your clothes and sticky glue residue and pieces of cut up construction paper somehow in your hair, all things katsuki despised for years and made sure his house never reflected any of that.

but in that moment, with his living room in complete disarray and the positioning of his couches utterly fucked up? the dishes still in the sink and the table still set?

katsuki didn’t fucking care.

because he had never seen his son so happy. he had never seen him so excited and hyper as you helped him set up and somehow tie fairy lights that katsuki had somewhere up in his attic for holiday seasons around the fort, you looking fucking gorgeous under the dim dark lightning as you read milo one of his favorite children’s books you got from his little shelf in his room— ‘the very hungry caterpillar,’ one of your favorites too as his son followed along with you and giggled whenever you’d make a silly joke only a five year old would find funny.

and katsuki felt warm… that’s all he ever felt when he was around you.

is this what it was like to be a family?

“oh my goodness i almost forgot!” you quickly sat up and handed milo the book, him taking it as you crawled over and reached for your bag. “i brought something for you honey!”

milo gasped and sat up. “really?! what?!”

you pulled out a ceramic cream colored globe with hollowed out stars, a small bulb inside as you scooched on your knees back over to a curious katsuki and milo.

“woah..” his son whispered. “what is it?”

you smiled and reached for the nearest outlet, plugging in the little globe and flicking a switch.

the darkened room illuminated itself then with the soft murmur of a lullaby playing, star shaped shadows slowly shifting around the entire living room as milo gasped and stood, frantically pointing at each moving shadow and gushing while his little mind was trying to process how cool and fascinating this was.

and all katsuki could do was stare at you.

stare at the way you sat back on your ankles and pointed with milo, counting how many stars you could see before it shifted and repeating that for fun, stare at the way both of your eyes glowed with wonder and curiosity, and stare at the way you smiled so gracefully and looked unreal now under the starry lights, his heart on overdrive at how gentle you were and how much you cared about his son.

about him.

and katsuki was sure then he was absolutely sick over you.

you all settled after a while of playing games and eating more mochi, especially milo, the little lullaby knocking him out as he snored next to you in his fort, you and katsuki laying down next to each other as you stared up at the shifting stars.

“i’m sorry i made such a mess in your living room..” you whispered bashfully. “i promise i’ll pick everything up before i leave.”

he shook his head. “don’t worry about it i can pick up. it’s fine.”

you smiled at him warmly before looking back up at the ceiling, feet planted on the blanketed flooring as your mindlessly moved your propped up knees side to side.

“was it hard raising milo on your own kats?” you asked softly, fingers wrung together neatly on your tummy.

“it was at first.” he mumbled. “but i got used to doin’ it on my own.”

you frowned, not particularly happy with the idea that katsuki had to raise a human being on his own without any help or guidance, wishing that he would’ve had someone there to help him every once in a while, or just be there for him.

“you did an exceptional job, okay?” you began. “you should know that... milo is such an honest kid… and he’s so precious too.”

katsuki’s eyes softened, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at you in fear of you noticing his stupid flustered face as he opted for keeping his gaze glued to the starry ceiling, your sugary peachy perfume not fucking helping as he decided to sit up instead.

“he is.” he grunted softly. “don’t know how his mom didn’t see that.”

you faltered and sat up with him.

“what do you mean?”

katsuki eyed you before looking down, hands flat behind him propping himself up as he thought.

“ah… milo happened because of some random hookup i had in college.” he mumbled. “didn’t love her or anythin’, i barely knew her but still told her i’d support her and the baby obviously.”

you nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“i was there through her entire pregnancy and when milo was born… but the minute she got discharged from the hospital and took him with her, i woke up at four in the mornin’ with a knock on my door and milo left abandoned on my doorstep.”

you gasped, hand hovering over your mouth.

“are you— are you serious?”

katsuki nodded.

“she wouldn’t answer my calls, my texts, nothing. i went to her house and found out she took the first flight she could to fuck knows where.” he shook his head bitterly. “but i didn’t give a shit about me i’ll raise him i don’t care. it was never about me.

he looked at you. “it was about milo. i didn’t want him to know that his ‘mom’ left him behind like that, and i didn’t want him to think it was his fault or anythin’… shits ridiculous.”

katsuki shifted his gaze back up to the ceiling. “still don’t know how she could ever do something like that.”

the sound of a hiccup make his eyes widen and snap back to you, your eyes filled with fat tears as your bottom lip wobbled, hands coming up to cup over your mouth and nose as you tried to keep it in.

“you’re crying?”

you nodded, squeaky slight sobs slipping past your throat as you strained to keep everything down.

“that’s so cruel.” you cried softly, embarrassingly drowning in your tears in front of him yet again. “you didn’t deserve that at all kats… milo didn’t deserve that you both should’ve had such a good mommy and— and a good support system—”

katsuki pushed himself up and wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, pulling you in and rubbing a hand up and down your back comfortingly.

“you cry over everything y/n.”

“s—” hic! “—sorry—”

he laid the side of his head on top of yours as you shook, somehow feeling guilty of what he told you just because of how much you were crying.

more than when he gave you those star shaped fruits.

“oi…”

katsuki pulled back and looked at you, reaching up and wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“don’t cry baby…”

baby?!

you funnily sobbed even more and shoved your face in his chest, him chuckling as he wrapped his arms back around you and gently swayed side to side.

“stop it idiot.” he mumbled. “it’s fine. it happened years ago n’ milo and i have always been alright on our own.”

…but he wanted you now.

now that he knew what it was like to be softly cared for by someone precious like you, to feel what it was like to be warm and fuzzy and sunshine and rainbows and candy all of the time… and katsuki wanted you so. bad.

“i know..” you hiccuped. “and i’m really glad but i just wish you had someone.”

you pulled away and quickly wiped your wet cheeks. “m’sorry i cried all over your shirt—”

“don’t give a fuck.”

you breathed out a laugh and dropped your hands in your lap, looking at your fingers as you sniffed.

you were always crying for him.

“y/n.”

“yeah?”

he looked to the side with a blush to his cheeks.

“thanks for comin’ today.”

you smiled brightly and nodded.

“of course kats! how could i not?” you looked behind you to a sleeping milo, reaching over and pulling his blanket a little further up his shoulders. “i want you to know that i wanna be there for you and milo…”

he shifted his gaze to you as you turned back around.

“whether— whether you wanna keep seeing me or not—” you gnawed nervously at the inside of your cheek. “which i hope you do! but— but if not that’s totally fine i just want to be there for you both…”

how were you so pure? so thoughtful?

“why the hell wouldn’t i wanna keep seeing you?” he huffed, grumbly and embarrassed as he pursed his lips. “i’d be stupid as fuck not to…”

you blushed, happy shiny eyes looking at him eagerly like he was everything and more, and he wasn’t used to people looking at him like that whatsoever as your gaze flickered down to his lips and back up.

and you were so pretty.

“y/n.”

“mhm?”

he slowly leaned closer.

“would you be mad if i made a move on you—”

“of course not—”

katsuki lunged and planted his rough lips on yours, you tasting like straight sugar and honey as he placed his big hands on the sides of you head and held you like a piece of delicate glass, kissing and sliding your tongues in each others mouths rather quickly and breathy as he moved one hand from your pretty face down to your waist to grip it.

you placed your hands on the blanketed floor and slowly crawled over to him during the makeout, him reaching and wrapping the rest of his built muscly arms around your waist and pulling you to straddle his lap as he ran his hands up and down your sides and back, wanting to feel you as much as he possibly could and squeeze you tight as he gulped your little self down, brows furrowed and lips red.

katsuki pulled away and ran his fiery wet mouth across your jaw and to the spot right below your ear on the side of your neck, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as he bit and sucked and still squeezed you, manhandling you in a way and eating you up.

your eyes fluttered open once you heard a slight rustle, your line of sight catching milo shifting a little in his sleep.

“k—kats—” you breathlessly whispered, pushing a little at his shoulders.

he grunted.

“milo—” you pointed. “he’s waking up—”

“the fucks that gotta do with us—”

“kats!”

he groaned and pulled his mouth from you, scowling over to see his son only shifted positions and was now directly facing the both of you, tiny eyes closed as he drooled and was probably dreaming about race cars and his dads shark shaped pb & j sandwiches.

“the little runt is fine—” he shoved his face back in and gnawed at your neck again as you gasped.

“nooo!” you whined and giggled softly. “now i’m scared he’s gonna wake up…”

he huffed and officially pulled away this time, red eyes dilated and half lidded as he looked over your pinky cheeks and shy face, the purple and blue mark he made on your neck making the right side of his lips curve up into a little prideful smirk, you too distracted to notice over the way he clutched and loosened up the hold on your waist repeatedly.

katsuki kept you on his lap and scooched himself down, laying on his back and head on the pillow as he nudged you to lay on him completely over his chest and body, you more than happy to do so as you settled your head on his pecs and got comfortable with his strong arms around you— feeling so safe and looked after.

and you hadn’t expected to sleep over… but you just didn’t wanna leave, and katsuki sure as hell didn’t want you to either as you softly and quietly talked over the small tinkling of the lullaby and milo’s soft breathing, shadowy stars still slowly shifting around you as you easily switched between various topics— ranging from serious to silly as you ran a loving hand over his chest and his on your back, the both of you subconsciously lulling each other to sleep until you were just as passed out on the floor as milo.

since then, katsuki didn’t wanna let you out of his sight.

as if he wasn’t already involved enough with milo’s school activities because of you, this man became a fucking member of the pta and volunteered himself for every single event so as long as you were there, helping you out especially with fundraisers and bake sales as his desserts always sold out quicker than anything else and made bank as he snickered and boasted at the other parents that weren’t selling as much, you giving him a silly glare that never failed to shut him right up as he wanted to be good for you and not upset you.

the front desk lady even went from hating him to loving him, katsuki grumbling and chucking her a bag of leftover fundraiser chocolate chip cookies on her desk as he passed by to drop off milo in the mornings, serving as a ticket way in and to get her to shut up now instead of yelling at him from down the hall.

and he continued to give you yummy star shaped fruits.

except now some days they looked like hearts or little flowers, and he always made his fruit assortments different so you wouldn’t get tired of them and added different dippings like caramel or chocolate hazelnut, you gushing and nearly bawling literally everyday whenever you’d open the container and milo giggling at you during lunch.

you also never went a day without stopping by or staying over at katsuki’s house since your first initial date, your days so much fun and filled with love as you ate lunch or dinner with the two of them, laughing at milo’s sporadic comments or katsuki’s barking and scolding while you either played with milo, helped katsuki clean up the house and him the kitchen or you the kitchen and vice versa, or simply cuddle on the couch with kisses shared amongst you and katsuki— the three of you with milo seated peacefully and comfortable in the middle while you watched a movie or lulled the little man to sleep.

and katsuki had never felt so complete as he started leaving messes behind without even realizing or stressing about it, and he didn’t know when the fuck it was that he turned so soft and sappy— the change a bit strange to those who knew him as he was just a teeny weeny less explosive and angry over small things, and more so when it came to you and his son.

“make sure you keep your little bucket hat on honey, okay? it’s hot today and i don’t want you to tire yourself out milo.”

the end of the year field trip for the kindergarteners this year was a voyage to the local wildlife sanctuary, a gorgeous exhibit that sat right next to the national science museum in your city, its main attraction being the 25 foot koi pond and butterfly wonderland that housed various butterfly species and their little habitats— the kids field trip assignment being to count how many they see throughout the day and pick one koi fish and butterfly to draw on their journals.

katsuki, of course, volunteered as a chaperone.

“single file line please my loves!” you called, hand by your mouth. “and don’t seperate from your friends okay?! everyone stay where i can see—”

“oi!” katsuki barked, snapping and pointing at a rogue kid who decided to break free from the line and run across the grass. “the fuck do you think you’re doing!—”

“kats!” you breathed out a shocked laugh. “you’re gonna get me fired if you talk to the kids like that—”

“shit! sorry— i’m sorry baby hold on—”

katsuki booked it across the grassy lawn and caught up with the running kid on the other side, the rest of your class giggling and cackling as katsuki swooped him up with one arm and dangled him upside down while he kicked and swung tiny punches to his abs, katsuki not even flinching.

“do that again and see what happens brat.” he spat, the little kid not having a single care in the world as he giggled with the rest of the class, all of them deviously planning to piss katsuki off as much as possible since his outbursts were just funny.

“okay okay—” you smiled apologetically at him before taking the dangling boy from his arm and setting him back down, fixing over his clothes and backpack before patting his head and standing upright.

“no more running alright?” you placed your hands on your hips. “don’t we wanna see some cute little fishies and butterflies?!”

“yeeeeaaaahhhh!!” the babies cheered excitedly, each of them immediately returning to their designated spots in two lines as you grabbed your line leaders tiny hands and started the walk down the grassy field to the sanctuary.

“lemme help ya with one line baby—” katsuki went to grab one of your line leaders hands until they burst into a crying fit.

“no! no! i wanna hold miss y/n’s hand!”

katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “what’s so bad about me hah?”

“you’re ugly! miss y/n is pretty!”

the rest of the kids ruptured, laughing as katsuki sent death glares to a literal child, about to spout something nasty until his eyes flickered to your pleading face, his muscles instantly relaxing as he casted his gaze to the ground with a grumble.

you giggled and gave him a sweet kiss to his cheek in gratitude, his face flushing as he eyed your deep blue overalls and pinky shirt and the way your sunglasses sat pretty in your hair on top of your head.

“what honey?” you tilted your head.

“none of your business.”

you snickered and nudged your shoulder with his, looking over at milo from somewhere in the line to make sure he was okay before walking up the front gates of the sanctuary.

the wildlife guide met you once you all were cleared and inside the greenhouse, your kids absolutely restless as they ‘listened’ to whatever the guide had to say and just wanting to break free and run around to look at all of the fishies and butterflies like you had promised, and you not even listening either as you drooled over the way katsuki’s muscles looked under his t-shirt.

“any questions sweetheart?”

“huh?” your eyes snapped to the guide, cheeks pink as you quickly shook your head. “oh! no not at all! thank you ma’am!”

“alrighty then! just please make sure to tell your students—”

suddenly your two perfect lines broke apart as the kids started running around and pointing at fluttering butterflies and screaming, the guide looking like she’d seen a ghost as the usual quiet and serene sanctuary was now the epitome of noise.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry—” you guiltily apologized. “my kids will settle down they’re just excited is all…”

the guide kindly waved you off before walking back to the main office, you turning and expecting to see katsuki standing next to you, but faltering once you saw he was on the other side and pulling one of your kids down that had climbed up the gates of one of the sanctuaries closed off exhibits.

“oh god..” you mumbled, about to make your way over until you spotted milo in a corner alone, staring at one of the koi ponds.

“milo?” you called softly, walking up to him.

your heart sank once he turned and you saw his little tear filled eyes and wobbling lip.

“oh no!” you gasped, crouching down and taking his tiny hands in yours. “what’s wrong my love? are you okay? is it too hot?”

you pushed some of his spiky blonde bangs back from his sweaty forehead as he shook his head.

“i can’t draw!” he sniffled. “and the koi fishies keep moving…”

your shoulders relaxed in relief.

“that’s okay!” you took his journal and pencil, wiping his wet cheeks as you smiled sweetly. “as long as we’re patient with the fishies, they’ll swim back and you can draw them again!”

you opened his journal and flipped to a new blank page, the both of you waiting quietly until a big chubby koi fish swam by.

“there!” milo whispered and pointed, and you quickly drew what you could, just making out the shape of the body before it disappeared again.

“and now we wait!” you grinned up at him. “the fishy will come back around and you’ll be able to draw it again.”

“kayyy!!”

“and you can draw milo. i’ve seen your artwork in class, remember? you always get a gold star!”

he giggled. “i do miss pretty!”

you ran a soothing hand over his back before passing his journal back.

“now you try honey—”

“i love you.”

you froze and looked up, katsuki standing there with a sincere and vulnerable look in his eye.

you stood from your crouched position and looked at him wide eyed.

“i’m not— i’m not good at this kinda shit at all and i always say somethin’ dumb but i do.”

“kats—”

“and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it but i tried to make it obvious with my stupid shaped fruits n’ shit… and i always thought you kinda just knew…”

milo was too busy focusing on catching glimpses of the koi fish to draw with his tongue peeking out to even realize what was going on next to him.

“you’re so patient baby. the way you are with me… the way you are with my kid. i need that in my life and i can’t live without it at this point…” he spoke genuinely. “your fuckin’ fault.”

you giggled and covered your face with your hands, face hot to the touch and bashful at everything he was telling you.

“come here.”

you listened and walked forward, dropping your arms as you wrapped them around his abdomen and his around your head, squishing you in his big chest as he propped his chin up.

“do you love me too or what.” he frowned. “cause if not this is shitty and embarrassing—”

“no i do!” you giggled, pulling away and giving him a cheeky smile. “i do kats you know that… i love you. so much.”

he smiled and pecked your lips. “good, miss pretty.”

katsuki had heard the entire conversation you had with his son, your words seeping with such tenderness and care, and he almost passed the fuck out when he thought about how much of a blessing you were, something he’d be a fool not to snatch up and take as he nearly fucking proposed to you in the middle of the sanctuary like an idiot, not knowing at all how a person that pissed people off for a living was loved by a woman who was the definition of pure.

because how the fuck did an angry dunce like him, get lucky with an angel like you?

“oh my god that dumbass kid is climbin’ the fence again— oi!”

katsuki quickly kissed your cheek before flying to the other side of the sanctuary, you doubling over in laughter as you watched him fight and tug and pull, your student not budging at all whatsoever and the rest of the kids laughing at how red katsuki was getting in the face.

“miss pretty!” milo tugged at your overalls, and you looked down to see him holding up his open journal, a cute wobbly sketch of a koi fish on the page as he smiled big. “i drew it! do you like it?!”

“wow milo!” you gushed, crouching down to his level and taking the journal, examining his artwork. “this is beautiful my love! see? i knew you could do it!”

“thank youuu!” he responded sweetly, his little cheeks blushing as he looked at you like he had another thing he wanted to say.

you tilted your head. “do you wanna tell me something else?”

“yeaaahhh.” he dragged. “please love my dad… i know he’s mean but— but he doesn’t mean it!”

your eyes softened as milo looked down at his shoes.

“and love me too… because i want you to be my new mommy…”

you quickly blinked back tears as to not alarm milo, surprisingly successful at preventing them from slipping down your face.

“i do love your dad honey… and you. the both of you i love so so much.”

he beamed. “really?!”

you nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “and i thought i was already your mommy milo!”

the little man gasped and flung his arms around your neck.

“YAAAYYY!” he yelled. “miss pretty is my mommy! i have a mommy now!”

ever since you came into katsuki’s life, his way of living materialized into something completely different.

because now instead of his house being plain and boring and organized from top to bottom without a single thing out of place— it was warm now… happy. and never went a day without smelling like cookies and vanilla as you and katsuki baked with milo any chance you could, set up more pillow forts and tents with starry ceilings, and slept with milo in his room as he snored content in his little bed, you sprawled directly on top of katsuki like he always had you as you both every day intended to leave after putting his son to rest, but ending up falling asleep on the floor each time.

the three of you were a little family.

and katsuki didn’t know why he hated messes so much in the first place.

because mess signified that something had been there, something sunny and tender, something that signified family as you peppered kisses over both your boys’ faces everyday and katsuki drowning you in his rough ones— your man squeezing you so tight all of the time and anywhere, as milo wasn’t just his son now but yours too as you took him to the park or to the aquarium on your days off, the three of you gently living as both of milo’s small hands were occupied now instead of just one.

katsuki’s life looked like it had been generously cherished and lived in for a change.

and katsuki bakugo loved messes.

so as long as they were from you.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @umemiaa @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @blu3-l0v3r @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire @dee-writes-anime @megumisluciouslashes @peachyaeger @yourstru1y4ever

Ya’ll look thirsty..

May I offer you a tall, dark, and hot.. coffee? ☕️

Manga reference below:

Procreate ✍🏻

4H 50M 🕣

#2 of SO MANY 🤷🏻‍♀️

My hyperpop practice also himiko toga fanart

I remembered my hawks au, heres is another mini comic

Lady nagant breaks out of jail

Another au but this one is about hawks, because i love him

In this au keigo dies moments after all for one stoles his quirk, and then he wakes up in the past

In this au hawks eyes are just black like void to represent the part of him that was stole from him in the future and they will only go back to normal if he stills has his full wing and his quirk in the future.

Also he broke lady nagant out of jail.

This is my excuse to put three characters i like very much together (hawks, lady nagant, stain)

The red things in the bed are hawks feathers

AND THIS MOVIE

SPOILERS

WAS ASTRONOMICAL OT WAS BEAUTIFUL LIKE THE EMOTIONS I HAD WATCHING THIS WAS OFF THE CHARTS

IT WAS SO COOL TO SEE EVERYONES NEW MOVES AND SEEING ALL FIGHT SO DESPERATELY AT THE END

AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON RODY SOUL CUZ THAT MF IS FINE AS HELL

TIKTOK MADE ME BELIEVE THAT HE DIED AT THE END BUT HE DIDN'T WHICH I WAS SO HAPPY ABOUT BECAUSE I GOT WAYYYYYYYY TO EMOTIONALLY ATTACHED HIM

ALSO I FIND IT SO FUNNY THAT RODY AND DEKU WENT ON A WHILE ASS ROAD TRIP WHILE THE WORLD WAS ABOUT TO END HAD ME CTFUU

EVERYBODY IN THAT MOVIE WAS AMAZING

Light Refracts In Many Angles

Midoriya had always been a mutterer. It was a habit developed through isolation and his parents. Since he had no one to talk to, he spoke to himself. The sound of talking was comforting even if the voice speaking was his own.

Another thing Midoriya got through his lifelong isolation was this “magical” ability to disassociate. His rejection from society “evolved” over the countless years of bullying, but that was beside the point. He was still pretty lonely even with the fan behavior from a select group of losers.

Midoriya would wake up and go to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Within seconds of brushing his teeth, Midoriya would be disassociating. Midoriya would be eating breakfast in the middle of spicy gossip. He’d be responding to his mother, but nope, his brain flipped a switch, and just like that he was blanking out. Of course, it didn't happen at the same time every day, but it wasn't uncommon.

Midoriya would go to school and the moment Bakugo opened his mouth Midoriya was out of it. Fortunately for him, it seemed that his body was on autopilot in school. He’d look down at his notebook to see notes he didn’t recall taking. One time he even highlighted specific lines in his textbook.

Midoriya knew it was a problem, but it never really happened when he was doing important tasks that he needed to focus on, so he didn't tell anyone. Unfortunately, he nearly fell down countless flights of stairs in front of his mother, so he was set up with a psychiatrist.

It never took long for Bakugo to notice changes in Midoriya’s behavior. Whenever he made fun of Midoriya or even shoved him occasionally, it was as if Midoriya was looking right through him.

Bakugo couldn’t tell if Midoriya was terrified of him or if he was trying to act tough and one-up Bakugo by pretending to be unfazed. The first time he noticed it was over four months ago.

In certain classes where their seating arrangement changed due to carefree teachers, Bakugo sat near his three lackeys. Hifumi was at the desk to his right and Tejio was in front of him.

Midoriya had already taken a seat on his left before the trio entered the classroom. Midoriya’s seat was by the window, allowing him to gaze out whenever he wanted to.

Bakugo was able to notice the strange behavior, but he never truly figured out what was going on with Midoriya. Midoriya would be writing his notes normally and, out of the blue, his expression would fall as that blank look washed over his face. He couldn’t understand what was happening since Midoriya was still writing away, gaze flicking to the board and then down to the paper to write.

Midoriya spent all of his time alone. He had no friends at school, and he always had everything with him, including his lunch. Midoriya would often stay in his seat for the duration of the break.

Bakugo and his lackeys would sometimes poke fun at him for it before they left for the cafeteria. Other times they’d come back early to study or get away from the crowd of people who were nothing more than nuisances to the three.

Midoriya usually wouldn’t react to them coming in. He would often be spotted with his head against the glass, looking at nothing in particular. Bakugo would never admit it, not even to himself, but he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight.

The golden sunlight would shine on Midoriya and illuminate him. His black freckles seemed to glow a golden hue, and his pigmented skin seemed to relish the warm sunlight. Midoriya’s pale, chapped lips seemed to turn a bright red with the exposure to the sun.

Midoriya’s dark and dazed eyes would light up into a striking electric emerald green, matching the beautiful shade of green his eyelashes would turn as they occasionally fluttered. Bakugo could even see the line where the black patch of his hair turned green when it was usually hidden in his dark hair.

Every once in a while, Bakugo would see Midoriya snap back into whatever he was doing whether that be him writing notes, doing schoolwork, scrolling on his phone, writing his hero analysis, or him looking for something interesting going on outside the window. It seemed unreal the way life seemed to flash back into Midoriya's eyes.

Midoriya may not be exactly conscious of the world around him, but his subconscious was working to keep him afloat. It was a sight to see when he became responsive to things he was hearing or seeing.

Bakugo found it strange, but he’d never pass up a moment to peer at Midoriya without the worry of being caught. He'd convince himself he did it for a good reason after he'd catch himself staring.

On good days, Bakugo would go in early and open the window. He knew deep down why he did it, but how could he ever bring himself to say he wanted to watch the breeze gently blow against Midoriya’s face to watch the way the curls in his hair would sway.

One day, Midoriya had a boba milk tea. The drink was still sealed and the straw sitting next to the cup on the desk. Midoriya had his notes pulled out as he was planning to do schoolwork before homeroom started.

Bakugo had been watching Midoriya and saw the exact moment Midoriya's brain clocked out. It was normally pretty clear as his face fell as he was writing notes.

After a couple of minutes, Midoriya's gaze rose to the drink. He grabbed it and brought it away from the edge where it was sitting. Midoriya snatched the straw and raised it to stab through the lid.

Bakugo felt himself focus on the sight, never having seen Midoriya eat or drink while in a trance.

Thump.

There was a pause.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Now Tejio and Hifumi were looking.

Thump.

It didn’t go through, and Hifumi couldn’t help but snicker. For Bakugo, he was fully invested in seeing how this was going to go. Midoriya’s mind was obviously not functioning, but his body was.

Midoriya's body, not being able to accomplish his subconscious mind's goal, raised questions. After all, it was a new situation where Midoriya couldn’t do anything while being unresponsive.

Thump.

Midoriya suddenly threw the straw at the desk and flopped back in his seat. In a way, it seemed as if his body was visibly trying to pout. Tejio could not help but let out muffled laughter, trying not to lose it.

Midoriya leaned forward, taking the straw and even holding it up to his eyes. Midoriya seemed as if he was observing the straw. Bakugo knew very well not one thought was going through Midoriya’s head as messed with the sharp end of the straw. Fixing his grip on it, Midoriya sent it down one more time.

Thump.

Midoriya once again readjusted his grip on the straw and shifted in his seat before sending the straw down again.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump.

Midoriya suddenly picked up the drink, sat it back at the corner of the desk, and brushed the straw off his papers before grabbing his pencil and writing as if nothing had happened.

Hifumi and Tejio lost it, laughing. Bakugo was baffled at the sight, wondering how Midoriya did all of that. He didn’t understand what was happening or why it happened. He’d ask about it, but that would reveal he paid attention and cared enough to ask. He’d rather die than let anyone, especially Deku, know either of those things.

Midoriya seemed to snap out of it a minute later as he took the drink and straw before piercing it easily. He rewarded himself with a drink as he continued the notes. Hifumi and Tejio never suspected a thing while Bakugo was left staring in confusion.

Bakugo knew something was up but decided to never ask. Eventually, he forced himself to stop opening the window and stopped himself from staring too much.

It seemed as if Bakugo wasn’t the only admirer as occasionally the window would be left open in the mornings before Midoriya would enter the classroom.

Midoriya was studying in the school's ginormous library. Midoriya always placed himself at a booth alongside the window, enjoying the sunlight while he studied.

Bakugo and his bullies had snuck in, planning on teasing Midoriya in the quiet area. They spotted him and sat down nearby to figure out how to proceed as the librarian would easily spot them. She was a passionate and stern woman who wouldn’t hesitate to put them all into detention.

Someone suddenly walked past the trio. They looked over to see it was their class president. He was tall, undeniably charming, always received the highest grades, had the best reputation, and was involved in everything going on in the school. His name was Noya Seika, preferring to be called Seika. His book bag was over his shoulder and his arms were holding a stack of papers.

Bakugo and his two followers watched as Seika approached the booth Midoriya was at. Midoriya was casually writing his notes, at peace with the silence.

Seika marched right up to the booth with his charming smile. Everything about his approach was sincere, not an ounce of pity visible in his determined eyes.

Midoriya seemed to notice someone standing by his booth and jumped, covering his mouth. “I am so sorry! Was I mumbling? I’ll be quiet!” panicked Midoriya, whispering only to be met with the sight of his class president.

“No need to apologize, you weren’t mumbling. I was wondering if I may sit with you?” asked Seika with a chuckle, shaking his head.

Midoriya looked at Seika suspiciously before deciding to just let him sit down. It would be extremely rude of him to reject Seika even if he was doing it for a dare or had ulterior motives.

“Oh! Yes, you can sit with me,” approved Midoriya, motioning for Seika to sit down.

Seika smiled, appreciating Midoriya letting him join him. Setting down the stack of papers, he rolled his shoulders in relief. Midoriya peered at him curiously, not used to ever being with good company. Seika sat his bag down and slid into the booth.

“Thanks again for letting me sit with you. I love the student council, but they make it hard to get the paperwork done for the upcoming festival,” ranted Seika, situating the stack of papers before him.

Midoriya, feeling accepted enough to be able to ask questions, decided to ask one of his own. “All of those are just for the festival? Why’d you choose the library out of all places to get stuff done?”

Seika looked at Midoriya, seemingly surprised. The bullies couldn’t understand what Seika was doing. They were already pissed they had gotten their chance taken away from them. It didn't help that Seika was now acting strange after seeking out Midoriya. Bakugo looked ready to break his book bag strap.

Seika tilted his head to the side, happy to answer. “Yep! I'm in charge of approving and disapproving every single class’ activity. Usually, every student in every class has an idea. So, we have about four classes per year and each class has about 20-24 students. I have to get through all of them a week prior. Oh, and about your second question, I figured you’d be here.”

Midoriya was nodding, listening to Seika until the random and strange words escaped his mouth.

I figured you’d be here.

Midoriya stared at Seika in disbelief, worried he hit his head or got struck with a quirk. “Seika-san? Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m alright Midoriya. Why wouldn’t I be?” questioned Seika innocently.

Midoriya shook his head, fixing his notebook. “No reason. Well, I’ll let you get to your work.”

Seika slightly pouted, watching as Midoriya seemed to put all his focus back on his work. Seika stared for another moment before going to his work, flying through the papers.

The bullies had been snickering at the expressions of Midoriya. They had never seen him look so confused and worried for someone. What made it even better was how Midoriya’s concern was because someone wanted to be around him. Bakugo couldn’t help but be completely invested in the scene similar to a grandma watching a soap opera.

When the three saw the way Seika gazed at Midoriya lovingly, they all felt their faces drop.

The gray-haired bully, Hifumi, started, “No.”

Bakugo interjected his lackey’s moment with a helpful, “Fucking.”

“Way,” the brown-haired bully, Tejio, cut Bakugo off, finishing their little epiphany.

“Seika likes Deku.” The three said in unison.

They all watched like stalkers as the two worked together in comfortable silence. Bakugo saw a mindless haze coat Midoriya’s eyes as his head raised from the page he was staring at and looked out the window. Seika noticed the lack of Midoriya’s scribbling and looked up. Noticing he was in a trance, Seika glanced out the window to see nothing particularly interesting going on.

Looking back at Midoriya, Seika shamelessly took a moment to admire Midoriya. Bakugo couldn’t help but struggle to swallow the lump in his throat. He knew he had looked at Midoriya the exact same way, infatuated by the stunning view. He could see the way Seika’s grip on his pen just oh-so-slightly tightened as he stopped writing.

Eventually, Seika waved a hand in front of Midoriya’s face. Absolutely no response from Midoriya. Bakugo, Hifumi, and Tejio all freeze at the sight of Midoriya being completely out of it. Seika decided not to shout and tried to wave again. With no response again, he gently poked Midoriya’s hand. Midoriya instantly snapped out of it. Midoriya was quick to shoot his gaze over to be met with Seika’s kind expression.

“You were staring off Midoriya. You didn’t even respond to me waving,” explained Seika, looking at Midoriya in wonder.

Midoriya grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I have a dissociative disorder. It only ever really happens in school. I promise I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Seika smiled, waving his hand dismissively. “Nonsense. I assumed you were daydreaming so no hard feelings. Also—a dissociative disorder?”

It seemed to finally click for Bakugo. The feeling of dread slowly creeped into his chest. The Hifumi and Tejio look flabbergasted, not knowing what a dissociative disorder is.

Midoriya nodded, looking at Seika uneasily. “Yeah, I was diagnosed with it after my mother took me to a doctor after an incident. It’s really frustrating.”

“Oh really? I’ve heard about it before, but I don’t know the details of how it works. Is it hard to focus?” pondered Seika.

Happy to explain his personal experience with the disorder, Midoriya twirled his pencil. “Well, mine is mild in terms of my mental state. Whenever I get triggered or induce it, my mind will lock me out of my body. My body just runs on its own. It causes disconnection and lack of continuity between my thoughts, memories, surroundings, and actions. I basically escape reality.”

Hifumi and Tejio let their eyes widen as their gazes full of shock met. They figured Midoriya was an antisocial loser. Now it was brought to their attention that this was because of a mental disorder that they probably caused. Bakugo seethed from where he was sitting. He couldn’t understand how he had been so blind. It was obvious it was disordered behavior. It was obvious Midoriya had been dissociating. He had been admiring Midoriya and observing that he never actually reflected or saw it as something that was burdening Midoriya.

“Woah, so like depersonalization disorder?”

“I mean… kind of. I’m not exactly observing myself from outside my body and I never feel like I’m in a dream, but I do feel a disconnection or detachment from my body and thoughts,” elaborated Midoriya, not sure if he was making any sense.

Seika bowed his head, taking one of Midoriya’s hands in his two. “Thank you so much for sharing such personal information with me. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable in any way. If I did, I humbly apologize for not realizing this may be something you are sensitive about.”

Midoriya felt his eyes widen, placing his free hand over Seika’s. “Oh no, please don’t apologize! You asked me about it kindly and respectfully. I wouldn’t have talked about it if I didn’t want to.”

Seika looked up at Midoriya relieved. “I’m glad. Still, I’m sorry you have to deal with that. Is it affecting your studies?”

“Not too much. I still get everything written down. All I have to do is just review the notes I wrote while dissociating. It’s a pain, but there's nothing else I can do,” sighed Midoriya, removing his hand to flip the page of his textbook.

Seika smiled, removing his two hands from Midoriya’s hand. “You are very studious.”

Midoriya smiled at his notes bitterly. “Well, that's all I can do.”

Seika shook his head, looking at Midoriya adoringly. “I doubt that. I feel like you could do anything you put your mind to.”

Midoriya looked ready to argue but bit his cheek and nodded instead. “Thanks.”

Seika frowned, he had said the wrong thing and Midoriya settled for silence. That was the barrier he was determined to break. He didn’t want their dynamic to be the weak quirkless student who believed he’d be disciplined if he attempted to defend himself and the powerful authoritative student with a quirk who barely had to lift a finger to get Midoriya expelled. Although technically that’s what it already was.

Seika looked at Midoriya who buried himself in his book. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but why do you wear such a face? Do you not think you can achieve anything you put your mind to?”

Midoriya felt his eyes widen, looking up to meet Seika looking at him with such a strange look. Midoriya could sense anger, but none of it was directed at him. Midoriya could see a glint of desire and swallowed hard.

“Oh, it’s not that Seika-san. I’m just not used to uhh…,” trailed off Midoriya, fumbling to come up with an excuse or any kind of response.

“No, don’t feel pressured to answer. I was just worried I had upset you,” confessed Seika, once again stunning Midoriya.

Midoriya looked at Seika and smiled kindly at him, tilting his head gently. “Don’t worry, you haven’t upset me.”

Seika felt his posture straighten, looking at Midoriya lovingly.

Bakugo was quick to move, he wasn’t planning on letting this random extra waltz his way into Midoriya’s life. The end of the school year was rapidly approaching, and he was not going to have Seika be an irritating memory.

“Deku.”

Midoriya jumped but looked up to where Bakugo was standing. “Kacchan?”

Bakugo swallowed his pride and decided to use his only excuse to hang out with Midoriya without it sounding like it was his idea. “The old hag has been bugging me and wants you and Inko to visit soon.”

Midoriya perked up, all the attention that had once been Seika’s was gone. “Oh, of course! I’ll let Mom know.”

“Whatever. Now get the hell out of here, all the clubs left already,” demanded Bakugo, pulling out one toxic tactic to separate Midoriya from a potential friend or lover.

Midoriya smiled, rising from his seat. “Oh, you’re right. Thanks for letting me know Kacchan. Seika, I’ll be taking my leave.”

Seika waved Midoriya off with a disappointed expression. “See you around Midoriya.”

Bakugo walked back over to where his lackeys were with a wide smile. Hifumi had watched the entire encounter with a dropped jaw. Tejio was holding back laughter, enjoying the look on Seika’s face.

“No way you just did that,” snickered Tejio.

Hifumi nodded his head in approval. “While I’m impressed Midoriya listened to you, I’m even more shocked you didn’t bother looking at Seika.”

Bakugo shrugged. “I didn’t have to look. I sent him the message that I had Midoriya wrapped around my finger.”

“You’re evil dude,” sighed Hifumi.

Bruh I wrote this back in 2022 and found this deep in the google docs sorry if it's trash, but I honestly kinda like it even two years later

Y’all… I thought the posters were funny… but it looks so tacky. Also I’m loving my recent style with the incorrect proportions 😋

ANYWAYS RAHHHHH BKDK 🧡💚

Ready To Quit

Becoming a teacher was not on Midoriya’s list of to do’s when he was a child. The only thing running through his mind was becoming a pro hero. After losing his quirk and feeling the remaining embers slip away, he did everything in his power to avoid acknowledging how devastated he truly was.

 So, when Aizawa made the proposal to work at UA High, Midoriya was surprised that he didn’t have to try as hard to be okay with the new career path.

After spending his entire childhood bullied by his teachers for being quirkless, Midoriya knew he wanted to be the saving grace for many young and impressionable teens. He sure as hell needed Toshinori and Aizawa to get him through his first year at UA.

As graduation quickly arrived and passed, Midoriya was already preparing for the next chapter of his life. Every single college Midoriya applied to, he received an acceptance letter. Surprised they still accepted him despite his quirkless status, he took it as a sign and was ready to succeed. Considering his classmates were going to be busy with being sidekicks and interns for a while, Midoriya needed distractions.

Excelling in school was an obsession Midoriya had no problem falling back into. Before meeting All Might, focusing on school was a good distraction from his fate as a quirkless person. Now because that fate is a reality, why not go back to old habits?

School was officially his life; he had no issue embracing it. He decided to major in education and hero studies. He minored in quirk biology and psychology. 

Despite his friends being busy, Aizawa and Toshinori were two people Midoriya stayed in touch with happily. They often would meet for lunch and small catchups. Midoriya and Toshinori already had an unbreakable bond, but the one he formed with Aizawa was unexpected but welcomed.

There were days when Midoriya knew it would be more harm than good to stay cooped up in his room and would ask Aizawa if he could come over. Eri was older so she’d often stay nearby Midoriya doing whatever she wanted. Midoriya would bring over coffees and a small dessert for Eri.

Bakugo and Midoriya stayed in close contact as well. Unfortunately, their conversations were scarce because Bakugo was working himself to the bone. No matter how much Midoriya expressed his worries, Bakugo dismissed the concern and continued the way he was going.

Ignoring Bakugo, Midoriya would often make him bentos and leave it in the blonde’s mailbox because that was the one place Bakugo checked religiously for some odd reason. He’d get five messages back-to-back, each written in all caps. Midoriya would smile warmly at his phone before stepping into his first class of the day.

That process repeated his entire four years in college. As time passed, his classmates reached out a bit more. They were getting comfortable in their schedules, and many were finally out of the early hero stage and working as a respectable pro hero in their desired agencies.

Sure, a part of him was bitter at the extreme loss of contact. Bakugo was far busier than most of his classmates and still found the time to text or send a message or picture. In the end, Midoriya wasn’t too hung up on it and the loss of a familial bond wasn’t as painful after making some new friends in college.

As he began his teaching career, he knew this was where he was meant to be. Sure, becoming a hero and saving people to defeat the villain was ideal, but he was training a ton of people to do that every day. It was a wonderful feeling.

Aizawa was always up his ass, telling him to be harsher on the students to weed out those who will take advantage of Midoriya’s kindness. Stupidity wasn’t a good enough reason for Midoriya to expel someone. His punishments often came later when their training rolled around.

Those who crossed him usually feared doing so again.

Midoriya also sent a lot of the students to Hound Dog. Students held emotional and mental baggage that Midoriya could help with, but sometimes big interventions were needed. Hound Dog had reached out to Midoriya on numerous occasions wanting to know how the students were doing. They built a pretty good bond as coworkers for the greater good of the students.

Raising the next generation of heroes was intimidating, but highly rewarding. It was a big responsibility, and these students needed to know how to cope with their own problems on top of the ethical and moral troubles they would be forced to acknowledge in their journey.

Occasionally, he’d have class sessions dedicated to students asking him questions about his short time as a hero. He talked a lot about those he saved, the villains he’d met and changed, and how he dealt with the realization that their hero-based society wasn’t black and white.

Villains and heroes came in shades of grey. The students enjoyed those days when they got to hear about their young teachers' experience as a hero. It was also nice to know their teacher understood exactly what they were going through. Despite the hell Midoriya and his class had gone through, Midoriya made it clear no problem they faced was any less worthy of praise or worry.

Each teacher's way of educating was different as UA gave them free reign of how classes were taught. In the end, the second-year teachers were impressed with the progress of their new students made. Aizawa’s teaching method worked just as much as Midoriya’s teaching method worked.

When Midoriya was given a list of his next group of students, the excitement was just as high as it was his first time around. If anything, Midoriya felt more confident in his teaching abilities.

After he had a reunion with the rest of his classmates, the reveal of his hero suit, and the offer to join Bakugo’s agency, class 1-A was back and better than ever. Yet Midoriya was left trying to incorporate hero work into his busy teaching schedule. Aizawa even offered tips on how to get things done which was appreciated.

Just as the group was coming back to Midoriya, Midoriya had to withdraw. He appreciated everything they did to get him the hero suit, but now that hero patrols were inserted into his schedule, nearly all his free time was ripped from his hands and thrown in the trash.

The roles switched and Bakugo was now leaving bento boxes in the fridge of the teacher’s lounge. Even worse, Bakugo kept showing up to Midoriya’s class. Many days Midoriya would kick him out, on others Midoriya would drag the blond into the lesson.

One calm day of classes, Midoriya chatted with his class that if word got out that Bakugo was helping students at UA, his hero rating may improve. The students plotted ever since to leak of video of him helping out.

It was a peaceful day and Midoriya wanted to give them a bit of a boost from the hellish training he’d given them the day before. He gave them twenty minutes to write a poem about their time at UA. Then they’d present their poems and if time was left over, they could ask him questions.

Halfway through presentations, a large group from class 1-A decided to come over for a surprise visit since it was one of the rare times they were off on the same day. Many were eager to see Midoriya in his element, unaware that today was supposed to be a recovery day for the students.

Loud cheering came out of nowhere, causing Uraraka and Tsuyu to jump. Kaminari and Kirishima paused where they were and shared a confused look. Bakugo was unimpressed and far from surprised. Todoroki on the other hand was already reaching for the door, but his hand was quickly stopped by Mina and Sero.

“Wait a second, let’s crack the door first to see if we are interrupting something important,” whispered Sero, scooching to the entrance of the door.

Many of the heroes huddled around as Mina slowly pulled open the door. No one in the classroom seemed to have been paying attention because the cheering continued.

Midoriya was standing front and center in a nice suit with his hair pinned back in All Might themed hair clips. He was clasping his hands together with his eyes closed. “Ubukata… do not make me regret this.”

The class erupted into laughter again. Everyone standing by the door looked at Midoriya, growing more confused and entertained by what could be happening. Nonetheless, it was clear the class adored Midoriya with the way every teen was eagerly waiting for something to happen.

“I’m on a whole ‘nother level. Girl he only fucked you over cause you let him,” read Ubukata with way too much confidence.

The room remained eerily silent, Midoriya staring long and hard at the class clown. Everyone in that room was adorable and beyond charming even if some were more antisocial or aggressive than others.

“What… the hell… are you talking about right now? Maybe I should quit,” responded Midoriya slowly, beginning to scare those in the classroom. No one dared to say a word and Ubukata looked about ready to pass out or puke. Suddenly Midoriya rolled his eyes. “If you were going to just use song lyrics as your poem you could have just made it longer to win the prize.”

“No!” shouted Ubukata in defeat, falling to his knees.

All tension in the room vanished as small conversations picked up again. Midoriya looked at his list, smiling at what he saw. “On a more serious note, remember that you all are here to become heroes. If you have any criticism of how I teach my class or have any concerns about your place here, let me know. I’m sure many of you are excluding a lot of important opinions because these are being presented in front of your friends. Now, who wants to go next?”

Mina slowly closed the door again, her dropped jaw motionless as she turned around to see she wasn’t the only one completely flabbergasted at what she’d just seen.

The group shuffled down the hall a bit before Kaminari broke the silence with a whine. “Why couldn't Midoriya be our teacher?”

Smiling softly at the closed door, Todoroki sighed, “I’m just happy to see he wasn’t lying when he told us he enjoys working here as a teacher.”

Nodding slowly, coming out of his shocked daze, Kirishima agreed, “For sure. Those kids are obsessed with him! Even Kota looked mortified when Midoriya said he should quit.”

Uraraka let out some stiffled laughter, shaking her head to herself. “I’m more shocked he’s openly cursing and joking around with them. You’d think he’d want to establish authority with his class to set a good example.”

“I don’t see the harm in it. Our time at UA High wasn’t cupcakes and rainbows. I’m sure that hasn’t changed,” disagreed Bakugo, not appreciating how Uraraka was poking fun at Midoriya’s teaching style even if it wasn’t that serious.

Tsuyu, reading the room with ease, diffused Bakugo’s anger and critiqued Uraraka’s attitude. “It’s nice to see Midoriya while he’s teaching. We have no context of what is going on in that room currently or why Midoriya decided to have this activity. I’m sure he’s a great teacher and he’s passionate about his job and the students.”

Mina picked up on what Tsuyu was trying to do. “For sure! It’s always nice to have a break from the hustle and bustle of life.”

“Never say that again,” remarked Sero, wearing a wide grin.

“Whatever,” huffed Mina, looking away towards the door.

Bakugo, reflected on his recent conversations with Midoriya. “I know Izuku planned a quirk exertion test for the brats so he’s probably giving them a day to recover.”

Appreciating some context, Kirishima shivered dramatically. “Quirk exertion test with Midoriya as the teacher. I’m surprised any of them are still alive.”

Feeling a bit sheepish about her poor attempt of conversating, Uraraka pitched in, “Maybe having him as the teacher is for the best. He is great at analyzing quirks and their drawbacks. Out of all the teachers in the school a test like that would be executed safest by Deku.”

As they all rambled about what they’d seen, Midoriya being a teacher, and how Ubukata scarily reminds them of Kaminari, the bell rang. They all perked up, ready to show themselves to Midoriya. Bakugo took the lead, throwing open the door while the students were still packing up.

“Kacchan,” greeted Midoriya with a softness in his voice that the students weren’t surprised by.

Many greeted Bakugo with a knowing smile or disgusted look before heading out to leave. Only the group stopped when seven other pro heroes walked in like it was nothing. As the group of students started to squeal and gawk at the group, Midoriya seemed unphased despite their presence being a complete surprise.

“Hey guys, what brings you here?” asked Midoriya calmly, walking over to stand next to Bakugo.

“Wanted to visit you man! We all had a random day off and decided to come together,” admitted Kirishima with an energy Midoriya knew he’d always enjoy.

“Freeze,” announced Midoriya loudly, pulling out his phone, sending a quick text, and returning his focus back on the group. “I need to go for five minutes. Since you didn’t give me a heads up, my students can stay back and ask you questions. I’ll be quick, promise!”

Midoriya left the room, leaving the pro heroes stranded with the students of their close friend. All seemed well, the group moved to the front of the room as the students put their bags down to get their questions in.

Hands flew into the air. Mina took the honor of picking the first student to ask a question. After a quick whisper was exchanged with Bakugo, she pointed and called out. “Terumoto!”

The boy whose face was covered in scars was surprised he was called on. Lowering his hand, he knew exactly what he wanted to ask. “I swear we are all being lied to so… is Dynamight and Midoriya sensei dating?”

“Are they what?” screeched the group of pro heroes. Bakugo looked more annoyed than anything else.

Meanwhile, Midoriya was snickering as he lit his cigarette on the roof of the building. “Suckers.”

Defending His Honor

Izuku was never one to be poetic. He was rather straight to the point and people often found the way he described or explained things as childish. Not that it necessarily was a bad thing, but he wasn’t known for methodical speeches.

Even when comforting someone or trying to solve a problem, he was blunt. There was no room for misunderstandings or disconnect. Izuku had a goal and if it involved helping people, he’d be direct.

Something changed when he and Katsuki started dating. Izuku found himself sitting around with his head in his hands mumbling the most tooth-rotting sayings. Maybe someone would find his thoughts childish, but oftentimes Izuku could make himself cry.

With every day that passed, the more grateful Izuku felt that Katsuki had chosen him. It was a genuine dream come true and Izuku wouldn’t have it any other way.

Still, Katsuki was Katsuki. He was brash, aggressive where it counted, and he could be pretty mean when the right buttons were pushed. Izuku loved it all much to the disgust of his classmates.

Izuku had been happily chatting with Todoroki and Iida when Kirishima bursted through the door. The entire class whipped their heads around to focus on the red head who seemed a bit too frantic for a school day.

“Guys! Bakugo is fighting an upperclassman!” shouted Kirishima, already spinning on his heel to run off again.

The warm smile that Izuku had been wearing was long gone. As his heart sank further and further, his legs carried him faster.

Izuku could hear the commotion and sucked in a sharp breath when he saw Katsuki and some random older guy brawling in the hallway. Much to no one's surprise Katsuki was winning.

After fighting in a war and playing a major role in defeating the most notorious villain, a simple school fight was as easy as breathing. Still, Izuku didn’t want Katsuki straining his heart more than absolutely necessary.

“Kacchan!”

The crowd went silent and the explosion in Katsuki hand quickly vanished. It seemed that the boy Katsuki had been beating up truly deserved it. No matter what the douchebag did, Izuku would rather have Katsuki by his side during the schoolday instead of risking Katsuki getting caught texting during house arrest.

“Yeah, get your crazy fucking dog just like always,” scoffed the bully. He was taller than Katsuki, but his body was nowhere near as big as Katsuki’s. He was bleeding and still hadn’t learned his lesson.

Izuku raised a brow, stepping closer to the scene. “Dog? That rich coming from a mutt.”

A couple of gasped and faint cheers came from the busy halls. Whenever class 1-A would send a jab at Katsuki, Izuku never felt the need to defend his boyfriend. It was clearly all in good fun.

This loser was not doing any of this in good fun.

“Excuse me? How are you doing to side with the bad shit lunatic? He nearly killed me!” screeched the boy, rising to his feet sluggishly.

Watching his upperclassman slowly rise from the ground was rather awkward, but he felt no remorse for not helping. “Well it seems like to me that you instigated a fight.”

The douchebag let out a breathless, baffled scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” snapped Izuku quickly, letting his gaze harden as he crossed his arms. He could feel Katsuki’s piercing red eyes on him.

In all honesty, Izuku was shocked that Katsuki hadn’t spoken up yet. It wasn’t in his nature to let others fight his battles for him. Izuku couldn’t help but feel lightheaded defending his lover's honor.

“Of course a freak like you would enable another freak. Fine, let him go insane, he’ll dig his own grave then,” spat the student, clearly making a dig at Katsuki’s dying during the war. The jab was way too soon to be made in poor taste.

Izuku wanted to be ruthless. Sure his upperclassmen went low, but Izuku easily could go lower. Still, he wanted to take the high route. It wasn’t to protect himself or seem noble, but he wanted Katsuki to hear just how little Izuku cared about his attitude.

Izuku could feel his skin crawl at the memory of Katsuki dead on the battlefield, his lifeless body covered in blood. It hadn’t been a nightmare nor something Izuku could run away from.

There was no time to hold Katsuki’s body to take a moment to cry. He was fighting in a war  and that battle stopped for no one.

How dare some nobody upperclassman say Katsuki’s brashness was going to kill him when it already happened? How dare a future hero say something so cruel and inhumane. How dare someone who clearly should know better call the two people who saved the world “freaks”.

Izuku was quick to passionately shout, “I do not care for his sanity. I care for his happiness. I care for his soul.”

The hallway was silent, Izuku couldn’t help but cry. He was beyond happy that Katsuki was still alive. He struggled everyday to realize that Katsuki truly wanted him. He was so lucky and he would never let anyone attack Katsuki.

“Maybe you’ve never experienced hardships before or pushed past your own mindset to appreciate those around you, but I do. I question how someone as blind as you can be in a hero school,” hissed Izuku, feeling anger come to the front again.

Katsuki grinned, propping his arm on Izuku’s shoulder. “Yeah, there should be a rule against whiny bitches.”

Izuku lightly snacked Katsuki in the gut. “Way to kill the mood Kacchan.”

Aizawa came rushing down the hallway. It appears word traveled quickly that there had been a fight. All it took was for Aizawa to see tears in Midoriya’s eyes to shout.

“You, my office, now!”

Izuku smirked as the upperclassman had to rise to his feet and follow after a pissed off teacher. If the bully knew anything about UA, he knew Aizawa was not someone to mess with.

As the crowd quickly diffused from a lack of conflict, Izuku and Katsuki were left alone. Izuku sighed, his heart still pounding in his chest painfully hard.

“Izuku.”

“Hmm?”

Soft lips quickly pressed together. Izuku smiled at the welcomed sensation. Katsuki smirked as he pulled back from the kiss.

Without any words being used, Izuku knew Katsuki was charmed by Izuku’s loud confession. Izuku’s wobbly smile spread across his lips and he focused his gaze on the floor.

“I meant all of it,” confirmed Izuku.

“I know you did. Now never say anything like that in front of people again. I should be the only person that gets to hear those words,” grumbled Bakugo, slowly adjusting his bookbag over his shoulder.

“Okay.”

“Damn, these bitches gay,” yawned Jiro, giving away her position.

Uraraka smirked, enjoying the mortified expression on both Izuku and Katsuki. “I guess we shouldn’t have stuck around to check up on our friends.”

“Die!” yelled Katsuki, sensing off a warning explosion. Izuku watched fondly, ignoring the nagging in the back of his mind. Maybe my boyfriend is insane.

(Y'all I absolutely love Queen Charlotte I just had to write a story based off of a single quote)

Unknowingly Mysterious But Funny

Quirk analysis was something Izuku did the moment he learned how to write. He’s always been in love with heroes and quirks abilities, so he decided to combine the two.

With each year that passed, Izuku filled 1-2 notebooks full of hero analysis. As time passed his abilities sharpened. He was better at reading battles, comprehending moves, and determining the difference between calculated fighting and quick reflexes.

Putting his analysis to use was nothing more than a dream Izuku had. Of course, that’s all his life could be without a quirk. He’d never be able to investigate what he’s capable of or think about how his quirk would work against different quirks. He was quirkless, the baseline of human capabilities.

Then the unthinkable happens, he meets the underground hero Eraserhead. It was completely by accident, but upon revealing his accurate hero analysis to the underground hero, it was hard to convince the adult that.

No one he’d ever met in his life had told him that he would be a good hero. So, imagine his surprise when the underground pro hero Eraserhead told him that he had great potential.

It was a dream come true.

The moment he shared with Aizawa was enough to motivate him to train to near perfection. When the entrance exam came, Izuku felt confident of his performance in all aspects. As he walked home, he knew he aced the written portion, and he did manage to destroy a handful of bots before saving a girl stuck under rubble.

Still, saving the girl was no easy feat and Recovery Girl handed him some gummies to replenish his strength. As Izuku finished enjoying the stamina gummy from Recovery Girl, she slipped a note to him. Raising a brow, he opened it up slowly. Inside contained a small keycard and a room number written on it.

Initially confusion plagued Izuku. He was an average applicant to UA with no special ties to the school. He had never met Recovery Girl before either, so it was shocking that she approached him for the sole purpose of slipping a note.

It felt like a set up, but he had to put his trust in the heroes. Maybe the applicants that were going to be accepted all got a secret note? Still there were a lot of successful people within his group alone who haven’t gotten a note.

Marching his way to the front doors of the main building, he was shocked to see the card worked. As he entered the corridors of the building, excitement filled his being. He was walking inside the number one hero school in Japan: the notorious UA. Being able to see his dream school in person was nothing short of a dream come true.

The corridors were tall, wide, and painfully long. The doors that led to rooms were just as big as the rest of the building. So much so that Izuku wondered how many individuals with gigantism-based quirks attended UA.

When he reached the room, he happily opened the door only to be greeted by a white… mouse?

“Welcome Izuku Midoriya, I apologize for the inconvenience. I am Principal Nezu,” introduced Nezu fondly, wearing a small smile with his paws resting on the table top.

“Oh! It’s a pleasure to meet you, mister Nezu sir!” squeaked Midoriya as he violently bowed.

“No need to be formal. I simply couldn’t resist meeting the person who caught the attention of Eraserhead,” revealed the adult charmingly.

Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Really? Did he tell you that?”

Nezu nodded slowly, closing his eyes as his smile grew, spreading across his face. “Yes, he did. He told me everything. I must say, from what I’ve heard and with what I’ve seen today. You’ve made me want to do something I haven’t done in a long time.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Midoriya barely mustered the courage to ask, “What may that be if you don’t mind me asking?”

“How would you like to take the final test to become my personal student?”

Midoriya became the first student in ten years to become Nezu’s personal student. While Midoriya wanted to be in the hero course, Nezu promised that his curriculum was nearly identical, but the difficulty level was higher and there was more focus on the analytical and craft behind detective work for heroes.

Midoriya quickly became a hot topic in the school within the first month. No one knew who Midoriya was and apparently, he was hard to track.

Most students only knew who was in their classes and people in their grade. So, the only people who had a good chance of figuring out who Midoriya was were the first years, still they could mistake Midoriya for an upperclassman.

It didn’t take long for the attention to fall off Midoriya when UA found themselves in hot water. It became a recurring theme which caught the attention of Midoriya.

After spending two weeks analyzing class 1-A in secret, Midoriya determined he wanted to be their friend. He didn’t want to be the one to approach considering Bakugo was in the class and had bullied Midoriya up until they no longer saw each other.

Midoriya planted himself near Aizawa a lot more often. Class 1-A were constantly in close contact with their homeroom teacher so it didn’t take long for word to spread about a mysterious boy with green hair and freckles to spread among the group.

Kirishima and Kaminari were the most vocal about their curiosity and had gained the confidence to ask about it.

“Mister Aizawa,” called out Kirishima quickly.

“Yes, Kirishima,” sighed Aizawa, already knowing the red head was up to something judging from the look on Kaminari’s face.

Kirishima sucked in a breath before asking the question that plagued class 1-A’s minds. “Who is the green haired boy that always talks to you?”

Aizawa raised a brow, seeming rather indifferent to the question. “That’s Midoriya, Nezu’s student.”

The entire class erupted into chaos. They were the first people to know the identity of the secret student. Bakugo remained still in his seat, fuming at the reminder that Midoriya got into some special program of UA. Despite his irritation, he reminded himself Midoriya still didn’t make it into the hero course.

It was Wednesday and class 1-A was heading to the field for their two-hour gym session. Everything was progressing as normal until Aizawa waved to someone from behind the group.

Midoriya rushed past in a gym uniform wearing a bright smile. One by one, jaws dropped and eyes widened. No one could believe Midoriya was joining them for class.

“Everyone meet Midoriya. Today he will be joining us per Nezu’s request. He will 1v1 each of you for five minutes to analyze your quirk. This is a serious assignment for him compared to what it if for you all so do not mess around.”

As the sparring began, Midoriya made it clear he meant business. Everyone watched as his eyes concentrated on everything his opponent did and how they utilized their quirk. A common theme became clear. He’d grasp an understanding of the quirk and then use said quirk against its user.

In the end, he’d force his enemy to fight without their quirk which led to quick victory. Midoriya struggled with Tokoyami, Bakugo, and Todoroki. The quirks were overpowering, and only extensive use would lead to his ability to win. Still, Tokoyami was weakened by the sunlight. The blast and smoke residue from Bakugo’s explosions created blind spots that could be taken advantage of. Todoroki only used his ice side so Midoriya could take advantage of the unused left side.

By the time Midoriya went through everyone in the class, he was exhausted but pleased. He made his way over to Aizawa and pulled out his notebook.

“I got everything I need. You can resume normal training,” informed Midoriya bluntly, waving his pen at the group before him.

Aizawa grinned, peaking at the notes. “Send me your analysis whenever you finish. I can use your notes for future training ideas.”

“I can do that. I’ll put an emphasis on weaknesses then for you,” chuckled Midoriya, scribbling down on the page as he talked.

Midoriya sat on the ground, writing for the remaining thirty minutes as the class ran laps on the tracks. It was a rather peaceful moment for Midoriya.

While he’d never regret accepting Nezu’s offer, he wondered what all he missed out on by not following the typical hero route. Nonetheless, he was content. The class ended and he returned to Nezu to finish his analysis.

If class 1-A hadn’t already been hooked on Midoriya, they were now. Not only was he super smart, but he was incredibly powerful despite never displaying his quirk. Never once did he make a big show about winning or overpowering everyone. He was humble.

It became a mission for the class to catch Midoriya when he was alone. After spending an additional week trying to track him down, Momo had gotten an inside scoop that he frequented the rooftop to eat on Fridays.

When Friday rolled around, a small group was to greet him on the roof. Everyone knew it would be dumb to overwhelm him and risk missing their shot.

Uraraka, Kirishima, and oddly Todoroki were selected to go. Uraraka and Kirishima were selected to go because of their friendly and calm nature. Apparently, Todoroki had a fascination with Midoriya after their fight. No one knew they had been talking to one another during those five minutes, but it was enough for Midoriya to change Todoroki’s life.

When they spotted Midoriya on the roof he seemed to be doing an assignment. His back was facing them to avoid the sun messing up his laptop screen.

As they approached, they realized he was talking to himself. To be honest, it was not talking, but rather mumbling.

As they got closer to peek at the screen like a bunch of stalkers, they saw he was watching a video about categorizing quirks by eye color.

Right as Kirishima went to greet Midoriya, the boy spoke a bit louder than before. It was clear Midoriya was exasperated when he remarked, “Pink must mean… teleportation. And not that someone farted in both their eyes.”

Uraraka couldn’t hold back her laughter despite doing her best to quickly cover her mouth. It seemed that Kirishima was on the same page as he stepped back to laugh as well, grabbing his stomach.

Meanwhile Todoroki was standing there with a blank face. He thought Midoriya was being serious in his analysis, so he thought nothing of the comment.

Yelping at the sudden laughter coming from directly behind him, Midoriya whipped his head around. Initially Midoriya had been scared he was going to be bullied, but quickly relaxed upon seeing the familiar faces.

“Bro has anyone ever told you that you are super funny?” sighed Kirishima, trying to catch his breath.

Uraraka was wiping her tears from laughing so hard. Still, she managed to suck in enough air to agree. “Yeah, that little comment you made was hilarious.”

With his face blooming a bright red, Midoriya waved his hands violently. “No! That’s so crude of me! Please ignore that!”

Kirishima went to sit with Midoriya, flashing a charming smile. “Nah man, that was amazing!”

Todoroki smiled, sitting down as well. “Hello Midoriya.”

Turning to look at Todoroki, Midoriya flashed a soft smile. “Hi Todoroki.”

Uraraka looked back and forth between Midoriya and Todoroki before smirking. There wasn’t much there currently, but she felt a romance blooming.

“Oh, are you two close?” questioned Uraraka knowingly. It was clear Todoroki knew something more than them when it came to Midoriya.

Midoriya shook his head. “No, I’ve only talked to him the day I joined your class for training.”

Never once taking his eyes off Midoriya, Todoroki narrowed his eyes. “Why aren’t you in the hero course with us?”

Kirishima gawked at Todoroki’s audacity. He knew Todoroki was rather blunt, but this was a new level.

“I applied for the hero course! Uraraka was in the same group as me,” chuckled Midoriya, closing his laptop.

“Yeah, you saved me from the giant zero-pointer,” gasped Uraraka, bowing her head. “Thank you again for that. I wouldn’t be here right now if it hadn’t been for you!”

“Nonsense! You proved that you are a hero by earning all of those points! Either way, I know it may be confusing why I’m not in the hero course,” chuckled Midoriya awkwardly.

Flashing a charming smile, Kirishima pressed a bit. “So, what’s your story?”

“I accidentally met Aizawa in middle school. I managed to impress him, and he recommended me to Nezu. I passed Nezu’s test and accepted his offer to be his student,” revealed Midoriya swiftly, not one to enjoy talking about his achievements in front of others.

Todoroki looked into Midoriya’s eyes, laying it on thick as he announced, “You are truly amazing. I think my dad’s homophobic so dating you would be perfect.”

While Midoriya looked a mix of flattered and mortified, Uraraka and Kirishima fell into another fit of laughter.

Their conversation moved fast and didn’t make a lot of sense, but it felt right, nonetheless.

Despite the different path Midoriya took, it seems that he was still a part of the normal hero course. He made friends with the class, and even found a potential love interest.

Who would’ve thought showing off analysis and joking about pink eye would’ve been the two leading causes of his wonderful life.

It’s Kind Of Diabolical

UA was a dream school that people all around the world tried to get into. Not only was it ranked number one in all of Japan, but the school was undefeated in all categories. Whatever category an individual could think of Dean Nezu did everything in his power to make the school the best in said category.

The 3% acceptance rate showed how picky the admissions team was.

Izuku Midoriya was considered one of the smartest students in the school. There were only two people that ranked higher than him in the entire building across all majors. Izuku was in a medical and pharmaceutical concentration of Biology and Chemistry. The double major was hell on earth, but he topped that off with a physics and psychology minor.

No one in the school, including the teachers, understood how he managed his time juggling countless classes all at once. Still, Izuku loved to learn, and he put his full effort into completing every class to near perfection. He worked very closely with his advisors Toshinori Yagi and Aizawa Shota. They complimented each other and it helped Izuku a lot with moving forward and making decisions based on their advice.

Everyone was always talking about Izuku and every move he made. Still, Izuku had something that he kept to himself. Izuku was a professional athlete.

The only reason no one knew was because he didn’t play for the college, making it significantly easier for him to keep it a secret. Well, to a degree he could hide it. He competed in high level competitions, and many were non-profit to raise awareness for important causes. His high ranking often led him to speaking in interviews about the cause.

Izuku was an angel on earth.

Katsuki Bakugo was average in school. He was naturally smart and put as little effort into his schoolwork as possible. Katsuki was a business major with two minors. One was in marketing and another in accounting. As long as he got an A in the class, he didn’t try to push himself harder. His main focus was on sports. After all, he was the captain of the football team and spent most of his free time training.

The school's meal plan was heavily abused by Katsuki as he was often seen inhaling food with his friends whenever he wasn’t in the gym or on the field. The training and consistent meal plan helped him greatly. Katsuki was well built with muscles that made half of the campus jealous and the other half lovesick.

Despite all the attention Katsuki got, he remained single. He appreciated his fans to a degree, but never engaged with them. He enjoyed the chase and the rush he got from the attention. Still, he loved playing football, and he loved his teammates. He’d never let a relationship, or other outside influences distract him.

That was until his best friend, also the vice-captain of the football team, decided it was time to flip his life upside down.

“Who’s that talking to Coach Toshinori?” asked Kaminari excitedly upon seeing a cute boy appear on the fields.

Katsuki didn’t bother looking, not interested in hearing gossip about some stranger. Kirishima on the other hand perked up when he noticed who Kaminari was talking about. “That’s Midoriya! He’s insane.”

Kirishima’s statement caught the attention of Katsuki and the rest of the team. Sero recognized Izuku as well and commented, “Yeah, isn’t he doing a double major and double minor?”

“That’s him! Mina told me that he’s already been accepted by every high end medical school he’s applied to,” revealed Kirishima, happy to say his girlfriend's name every chance he got.

Kaminari stared at Izuku from afar, letting his mouth catch flies. Once he let a couple of moments pass by, he snapped back into focus and smirked. “So, he’s smart and successful. Wait, how does Mina know him?”

“Mutual friends, apparently Midoriya is super popular. Almost everyone knows him, so I’m surprised you don’t,” responded Kirishima slowly, letting his gaze return to Izuku.

Toshinori flashed a wide smile at Izuku, ruffling the fluffy locks of green hair. The excited voices of the duo faintly reached the group's ears. Tetsutetsu chuckled to himself before jerking a thumb over to where they were standing. “Looks like he just got accepted to another school.”

Katsuki’s gaze was fierce, but he couldn’t stop the foreign rushing of his heart. There was something about this smartass chatting with his coach that irritated Katsuki. No matter how much he wanted to roll his eyes and redirect the conversation, he knew Izuku would be on his mind.

Fate had funny ways of bringing destined lovers together.

Three weeks was all it took for Katsuki cave into obsession. He hadn’t realized just how big of a figure Izuku had been in the school. After that fateful day, it seemed that anytime he’d be in the food hall or was hanging out with his friends, he’d hear chatter about the mysterious genius.

All alone in his room with thirty minutes until his bedtime, Katsuki started digging. He found some online interviews with Izuku talking about the charities he’s worked with. Then Katsuki found his social media account that talked about plans for his future, study tips, and a plethora of random school-related things.

It only took a minute of scrolling for Katsuki to realize this wasn’t Izuku’s personal account. No matter how much he dug, he couldn’t find any pictures of Izuku at these apparent parties or hangouts with his friends that Mina claimed he had.

The following morning came around and like clockwork, Izuku would become a part of his life.

The football team huddled around Coach Toshinori when he clapped his hands together with his usual blinding smile. “Look alive! As you all know, the season is starting to pick up and now more than ever, we need to engage with the public. We are the best school in all of Japan and we need to maintain that status. So, I want you to take to social media and hold mini interviews with people in busy areas!”

Katsuki shrugged, not bothered by the assignment. It wasn’t like he had any intention of being the one doing the interviewing. If he partnered with Kirishima who was more of a people person, then he could just record the interviews.

“Let’s do this Bakugo!” cheered Kirishima loudly, letting his manly persona take over.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on his phone. “Shut up Shitty Hair! Do you want to scare away everyone with your screaming?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Kirishima turned back to where people were moving in and out of shops. “Oops, you’re right. Sorry man.”

Huffing, Katsuki prepared his phone to record as Kirishima asked individuals if they’d be willing to be interviewed. Most of the time it took one look at Kirishima and Bakugo for people to say yes. It may have been the duo’s good looks, or their UA letter jackets, but people were fast to do an interview.

They had already held short interviews with ten people by the time their interest had fully worn off. Kirishima groaned, crashing on a nearby bench. “Why does Coach want us to interview fifteen people? We are going to have way too much footage,” noted Kirishima as he watched people pass by.

“Stop complaining, we are almost finished,” grumbled Katsuki, scrolling through the countless videos on his phone.

“Easy for you to say! You haven’t talked to one person,” scoffed Kirishima, failing at guilt tripping Katsuki.

Raising a brow with an unimpressed expression, Katsuki shrugged it off. “Not my problem.”

Kirishima spotted a familiar face in the crowd and his face lit up like a little kid on their birthday. “No way! Is that Midoriya? What are the odds we see him here?”

Katsuki was already handing his phone to Kirishima, not bothering to look back or wait for his friend. “Record me.”

The eagerness Katsuki displayed to interview Izuku let Kirishima know everything. Katsuki had a fat crush on Izuku. He’d never pass up a moment to record Katsuki making a fool of himself. Moments like these were rare and Kirishima usually failed to capture the moment in a picture or video.

Once the redhead caught up to where Katsuki had greeted Izuku, he caught the end of their exchange of pleasantries.

Izuku flashed a soft smile at Katsuki. “It’s nice to meet you in person! Toshinori tells me a lot about you.”

Kirishima was already recording with a bright smile. “Hi Midoriya!”

Turning his head to look at Kirishima, Izuku’s eyes lit up when he realized it was Kirishima. “Oh! Kirishima, hi! It’s been so long since we’ve last talked!”

“It really has been! I’ve been so busy with balancing school and football I haven’t been going to the parties lately,” sighed Kirishima defeatedly. He knew Izuku wasn't one to be petty but still, he felt bad about not keeping in touch with someone he enjoyed talking to.

“Nonsense! Anyway, Bakugo, you mentioned something about interviewing me?” inquired Izuku, returning to the initial reason he was approached by the hottest guy on campus.

Katsuki took a step closer to Izuku after letting his eyes trail all over Izuku’s body when the pretty boy had been distracted. Clearing his throat, trying to fight the nerves that flooded his body when he caught sight of muscular legs, Katsuki nodded.

“Yes, the football team is doing interviews with the public so we can post stupid shit to remind everyone why UA is the best.”

Perking up at the explanation of what was happening, Izuku eagerly agreed,” Of course. I’m more than happy to support UA and our football team!”

The three traveled to a more open area of the shopping center. The sun was warm on their skin and there was a gentle breeze. As Izuku and Katsuki waited for Kirishima to give them the go ahead to start the interview, Kirishima swore the scene looked like something out of a romcom movie. The school jock and nerd running into each other and having their worlds collide on a beautiful day with a cinematic breeze twirling their hair around.

Izuku was wearing a white tee shirt with the words “running shirt” on it. He paired the simple tee shirt with some black gym shorts that had white accents on the side seam. Both of his knees were strapped up with yellow kinesiology knee tape, paired with royal blue compression socks. The final addition to the horrifically discolored outfit was a pair of expensive red running sneakers.

Katsuki was in some baggy black pants, expensive white sneakers, and wore his UA football letter jacket.

Their outfits dramatically contrasted each other, but it wasn’t an eyesore like Kirishima thought it would be. Despite all of that, Kirishima cut the two’s ogling short. “Start anytime!”

Without missing a beat, Katsuki went off-script and asked a personal question. “What happened to your leg?”

Both Kirishima and Izuku seemed a bit taken aback by the question, but they quickly recovered. Kirishima knew he was going to use this as blackmail on Katsuki for the foreseeable future. Izuku on the other hand didn’t know what to expect from the interview and was happy to talk to the notorious football captain.

“I do a lot of running. A lot of cardio,” revealed Izuku, smiling shyly at Katsuki as he fiddled with the earbuds he had taken out.

Since he was a person with no filter, Katsuki dove straight into sly flirting. “Were you on your knees by any chance?”

“I actually was,” answered Izuku quickly, a bit surprised Katsuki asked the question. Still, he wasn’t too surprised Katsuki knew what to ask considering he was an athlete too.

Katsuki didn’t falter despite Izuku clearly not understanding what he meant with that question. “Oh. I picked the right guy for the interview,” commented Katsuki charmingly, his eyes looking at Izuku as if he were a meal to devour.

With the single comment, Izuku picked up on what Katsuki was indirectly saying and let his eyes widen and let out a breathless laugh. Katsuki knew he wanted to see that look and hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life. He wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but truly Izuku had him captivated. Izuku felt the exact same way.

He got me, hook, line, and sinker.

“How is your day going?” asked Katsuki calmly, reeling back into interviewing Izuku despite him not asking about UA or things about football.

Izuku pouted, looking at the hustle and bustle of the people around. “Pretty slow”

Seeing an opening to be mischievous again, Katsuki leaned closer. “Do you want me to make it faster?”

Perking up at the suggestive question, Izuku was ready to show he was just as interested. Using all the confidence training his teachers have put him through, Izuku tempted, “How would you do that?”

“How do you want me to do that?” fired back Katsuki with pure enjoyment. There was a little voice in the back of his head, wondering if the man before him was being a little shit to mess with him or if he was truly interested.

While Katsuki was overthinking everything, Izuku tilted his head down, looking up at Katsuki through his eyelashes with a shy smile. It was a very pointed look, and Katsuki felt his heart swoon. Katsuki was ready to bite those chubby cheeks peppered with the most beautiful freckles. Still, he was a college student and imagined pinning Izuku against his locker in the vacant locker room, and making those perfect lips spread to let out a scream of pleasure.

“I’m going to have to cut this video short,” half-joked Katsuki, struggling to keep his mind focused on anything but asking Izuku to date him in less than polite words.

The loud, almost manic laughter erupted from Izuku again as the implications of Katsuki’s words sank in. He was infatuated with Katsuki. There was something so thrilling about being the one that caught the attention of the untouchable football captain. In the back of his mind, he was scared this was all some elaborate prank to humiliate him, but he had to trust that Toshinori wasn’t lying about Katsuki being a good person.

It wasn’t uncommon to hear all his friends talking about Katsuki. It was close to impossible not to hear the name when football was such a major sport. Katsuki was the captain and the team's best player. Besides, Izuku often visits the games.

The only problem was he never got a good look at the blonde when their classes had no overlap and Katsuki was nothing more than a small blob down on the field.

Katsuki recalled Kirishima and Izuku’s short exchange. Kirishima mentioned something about not going to as many parties due to his busy schedule. If Kirishima equated not going to parties to a complete loss of communication, he wondered just how often Izuku attended them. “Do you ever go out to parties?”

“Maybe sometimes,” admitted Izuku slowly, raising a brow to gauge just what Katsuki’s aim was. While Izuku enjoyed some dirty talk, he had no intention of being a sex toy. He had standards and he hoped that Katsuki wasn’t just a closeted player.

“Do you ever see frat boys?” questioned Katsuki quickly, feeling anxiety bubble in his gut. He didn’t want Izuku to have his eyes on loser extras. Katsuki knew that some of the frat boys were persistent and relentless when it came to sexual endeavors. Jealousy was an ugly feeling, and Katsuki didn’t like being in a competition where he could easily lose.

Izuku stilled, a bit offended Katsuki was asking about his potential romantic interests in frat boys. How could Katsuki think he had no standards? Sure, Izuku was popular and flirty when it counted, but he didn’t think he gave off the impression he’d settle for a frat boy.

Truth be told, Izuku had a fear of drinking and drugs. He was a control freak after all.

In the end he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice some of the frat boys at the parties he attended. No matter how many people tried to hide the parties from the frat boys, they managed to find and get into the private parties. “I do see some frat boys. I don’t go for frat boys though.”

Katsuki immediately relaxed and soon realized he had been making a lot of assumptions. Sure, he was gay, but he couldn’t just assume anyone he was interested in was. Yet, he saw Izuku standing across the field on one fateful day and decided the nerd was his. Still, he didn’t have to worry about some horny men getting their hands on Izuku.

With his skin practically itching from anticipation, Katsuki knew he needed to get a better confirmation of Izuku’s sexuality. Their not-so-subtle flirting wasn’t enough. “So, what kind of guys do you go for?”

“Literally any other kind of guy,” chuckled Izuku, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit. It was clear that Katsuki was interested in him no matter what the intentions behind that interest were. Who could blame him for being flattered that Katsuki was giving him attention in a world filled with gorgeous individuals who matched Katsuki’s interests better.

Even if he was a perfect mix of calculated and impulsive, Katsuki was quick to gather the courage and make it clear where he stood. “Like football players?”

The message was direct and Izuku’s face bloomed the most stunning shade of pink Katsuki had ever seen. The shade complimented his hair and made his freckles more apparent. Still, Izuku raised a hand to tuck a stray curl behind his ear. Ignoring the adrenaline pumping in his veins, he smiled confidently. “I’ve never gone for a football player before but…”

All composure was lost, and Katsuki’s buffer vanished. “Do you like dick?”

That was all it took for Izuku to burst out into laughter. Even if Katsuki only wanted him for his body, which meant a hard rejection to an only physical relationship, Izuku had no intention of living a life without Katsuki in it. The vulgarity in Katsuki’s speech and the lack of regret in everything he said was something Izuku quickly admired. “Uh yeah.”

Katsuki couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, unable to believe that with the dumpster fire their conversation was, Izuku was still laughing and engaged. If his last question wasn’t enough to drive Izuku away, he might as well try to ask, “Can I get your number?”

Not even a second passed when Izuku threw his head back in laughter once more, fully captivated by Katsuki. He enjoyed the directness after all the suggestive language. Waving a hand, Izuku took a deep breath before shrugging and nodding his head. “Yeah, I guess you can get my number.”

Suddenly Katsuki felt like an elementary schooler. He remembered watching all his friends ask girls out and being surprised when they accepted. Now he understood how they felt at that moment. It was a pure, unadulterated sense of belonging and acceptance.

Despite the train wreck he presented himself to be, Izuku wanted to stick around.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” confirmed Izuku as he laughed, raising his hand, messing with his phone to pull up contacts, and offering it to Katsuki.

Kirishima stood behind the camera, wearing a disgusted expression. Izuku and Katsuki were made for each other. He couldn’t imagine any other person in the world still giving their number to Katsuki after being aggressively asked if they liked dick.

Whatever rose-tinted glasses Izuku was wearing, Kirishima wanted a pair too.

Katsuki calmly put in his digits and his name. He knew Izuku knew his name, but still, he liked the feeling of making himself known to Izuku. As soon as Katsuki went to hand Izuku his phone, a calendar notification pinged.

“Sorry, I really must go! I’ll text you, Katsuki. And Kirishima, it was a pleasure seeing you again.”

Kirishima and Katsuki both waved to Izuku and sadly said their goodbyes. They were impressed that Izuku was able to spare them a minute in the first place with how intense his schedule must be.

Izuku walked away with a pep in his step. Kirishima had been busy sending the video to himself when Katsuki’s voice reached his ears against his will.

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” sighed Katsuki, clearly admiring Izuku’s ass-sets.

Kirishima cringed, staring at Katsuki as if he’d been betrayed. “Bro, I love you… but I’m going to need you to stop talking.”

Katsuki gave Kirishima a swift punch to the arm before snatching his phone back. “Never speak of this to anyone. Let’s grab lunch… fuck interviewing anyone else.”

More than happy to stop where they were, Kirishima started walking to the one restaurant nearby he knew they both enjoyed. Katsuki smiled at his phone when he almost immediately got a text from Izuku.

Katsuki wasn’t planning on letting Izuku go after having a taste.

Little BkDk comic I whipped up in 30 minutes! 💚🧡 I’m currently editing a fanfic so I should posting soon!

Some of my BNHA In-Class Doodles 😪💕 I wish I had time to write fanfic rn…

Number One Mistake

After a lot of convincing, Uraraka gave Midoriya enough courage to confess to his crush.

Class 1-A was now class 3-A, officially on the verge of graduation. Midoriya knew things would get busy and there was always the possibility of falling out of touch with his peers. Still, he was in love with his childhood friend Bakugo. He had no intention of letting go of the bond that he worked so hard on forming.

Now that Midoriya was planning on confessing he had romantic feelings for Bakugo, he knew a lot was on the line. If he confessed in his earlier years, there was always time to work on rebuilding their bond and moving on. That way he wouldn’t risk Bakugo avoiding him upon graduation.

If he were to confess now, there was a good chance things would still be awkward by the time they graduated.

That was a terrifying thought.

Uraraka was a pillar of strength for Midoriya. She wanted the best for her friend and believed it was better for him to ask and get rejected than never trying at all. While that wasn’t the only thing she said to convince her best friend to go for it, it was one of the main comments she made that pushed him.

Midoriya took a deep breath before nodding his head. “Okay, I’m going to do it.”

“Really?” gasped Uraraka with an excited grin. She was proud to hear her friend was going to profess his love to his long-lasting crush.

“Yeah… but can you be with me when I do it?” asked Midoriya gently, looking down at his scarred hands with a wary expression.

Uraraka paused, tilting her head to the side before her eyes shot wide open. “Oh! Yes, of course! But are you sure you want to do it over the phone?”

Midoriya nodded stiffly, shallowly breathing. “I think I would pass out if I tried to tell him how I feel to his face.”

“Makes sense. You look like you’re going to pass out right now,” chuckled Uraraka fondly, smacking Midoriya’s arm. “Now, get out the phone and do it! If you wait any longer you may back out.”

“Okay… okay. You’re right, I’m already starting to regret agreeing to confess,” admitted Midoriya as he wiggled his phone out his pocket. His fingers trembled as he moved around his screen to pull up Bakugo’s contact. It was at the very top as Midoriya purposefully pinned him.

“Oh god, I think I’m going to vomit,” cried Midoriya, feeling heat rush to his face as his heartbeat unsettlingly thumped in his neck, pounding in his ears.

Uraraka snuck her hand into Midoriya before offering a tight squeeze. “Breathe. He died for you how many times now? I’m sure a confession won’t ruin anything.”

Midoriya shook his head as he let out a grunt. “Let’s do this,” huffed Midoriya as he pressed the button to call Bakugo. Doing everything in his power to not chuck the phone across the room, he immediately put the call on speaker.

“Izuku?” answered Bakugo quickly, sounding rather calm.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” revealed Midoriya quickly, tearing off the band aid so he couldn’t backtrack. He felt like his chest was going to explode.

There was shuffling from the other end of the call before Bakugo’s voice met his ears again. “Is something wrong? Is this about One for All?”

“No! Nothing like that,” stammered Midoriya, rather embarrassed.

Uraraka smirked from where she was now sitting. There was something so amusing about how worried Bakugo had become about everything and anything revolving around Midoriya.

“So, what’s so important that you have to tell me?” inquired Bakugo, a bit of a teasing tone accompanied his question.

“I like you,” confessed Midoriya suddenly, the short profession was delivered as if it was punched out of him.

It was quiet for a moment before Bakugo cleared his throat. Midoriya was covering his face, rocking back and forth in full-fledged panic mode. Uraraka sat on Midoriya’s bed violently biting at her fingernails. Despite Midoriya being the one confessing, Uraraka was completely freaking out. There was something so jovial about high school confessions.

“You like me?” repeated Bakugo with an unreadable tone.

Midoriya felt some alarms go off in his head, but he was holding out hope. There was always that chance that Bakugo loved him back and they’d have a wonderful relationship. Still, there were a lot of unknowns in situations like this. Not only did Midoriya have to consider if Bakugo would be interested in him, but he had to consider if Bakugo was attracted to boys.

Trying to sooth his nerve, Midoriya convinced himself that there was a good chance Bakugo was homosexual. After all, he’s shown no interest in any girls before. Even if Bakugo signaled he wasn’t interested in dating, Midoriya was going to ignore that fact for the time being.

“Yes,” breathed out Midoriya rather shyly, his cheeks warm and a small smile on his lips.

“Ew.”

Midoriya froze, the pounding in his chest only picking up as the burning sensation of tears forming arose. The weight of his phone suddenly became unbearably heavy as his wrist started shaking. Uraraka tried suppressing her gasp, but it didn’t matter. Midoriya wasn’t focused on anything other than his heart breaking.

“You… don’t?” asked Midoriya with a quietness Uraraka hadn’t heard in a long time.

Uraraka wanted to snatch the phone from Midoriya and end the call. A part of her wanted to storm out of the room and deck Bakugo in the face, but she kept still on Midoriya’s bed as she allowed her best friend to fight his own battle.

“But you’re a boy?” remarked Bakugo plainly. The way he said it didn’t have much malice behind it, but there was a cloud of disgust that accompanied the fact that came out more as a question.

Midoriya held his phone in a limp hold as the shy smile had long faded. Whatever life had been in Midoriya’s face died as the spark in his eyes disappeared and a deep frown met his features.

While Bakugo’s distasteful comment wasn’t inherently mean, it killed whatever romantic attraction Midoriya had for the blonde. A simple rejection would have done the job rather than a cruel reminder of how Bakugo may have liked him if he were a girl.

Uraraka was ready to get up, take the phone, and hold Midoriya until he was ready to think again. But before she could get the chance to move, Bakugo’s voice reached the duo’s ears.

“Izuku?”

Without missing a beat, Midoriya turned the phone to his face and quickly ended the call. He had nothing more to say and he wasn’t going to give Bakugo the pleasure of a response to his off-putting answer to a confession. Midoriya let his phone slip out of his grasp and clatter onto the ground.

The worst possible thing that could have happened just happened. Bakugo rejected him. Not only did Bakugo reject him, but he did in the worst way possible.

Uraraka slid off the bed, walking on her knees over to where Midoriya was sitting on his All Might carpet. Midoriya remained frozen in place with his arm propped in the air and his hand still in the position it had been to let his phone slide off his hand. Slowly, Uraraka wrapped her arms around Midoriya and pulled him close.

Resting Midoriya against her stomach, Uraraka wrapped her arms around Midoriya and leaned forward to shelter his body. As soon as she settled into the position, she felt Midoriya’s body begin to shake. “I’m so sorry, Izuku.”

Whatever power those words held were enough for the rest of Midoriya’s resolve to vanish. He sobbed into Uraraka’s shirt, feeling like he just lost all of his worth in one minute. Once he was able to process what he was feeling, his mind only got worse as he felt like a horrible person for feeling undesirable upon being rejected.

“It’s his loss Izuku. You are an amazing person, and you have so much love to offer. If Bakugo doesn’t want you, there is someone even better and more deserving of your love out there waiting for you to find them,” reassured Uraraka, rocking Midoriya back and forth as her knees were burning.

“I’m such an idiot,” cried Midoriya out loud. He could believe that he ruined everything because he was too selfish. He should have lived in blissful ignorance, never knowing if Bakugo could have loved him back or not. Now he’d forever feel the sting of being a male whenever he heard Bakugo’s voice.

Four days passed by and Midoriya avoided Bakugo like the plague. If Midoriya was socializing with Kirishima and he heard Bakugo’s footsteps approaching, he would leave without uttering another word. If Todoroki invited him to train and Bakugo was going to be there, Midoriya shut down the offer quickly. It didn’t take long for the entire class to notice the giant rift that seemed to appear between Bakugo and Midoriya overnight.

After the second war, the two were inseparable.

Wherever Midoriya was, Bakugo was hovering nearby. They trained together, did school work together, and spent much more time with one another. Now it’s been days, and they had not been seen near one another once. Midoriya didn’t once mention Bakugo in conversation. Bakugo seemed more irritable than usual, but no one wanted to risk getting blown up.

Finally, Mina and Kirishima had enough. They assumed that Bakugo and Midoriya had been secretly dating for the past two years, and they weren’t about to let the duo suffer in silence.

“Blasty! We need to talk,” demanded Mina, as she pounded on Bakugo’s door.

After waiting five long seconds, the door flew open. An enraged Bakugo stood on the other side with his fist crackling with mini explosions. “Who the hell do you think you are banging on my door like that Pinky!?”

“An angry mother is who I am right now!” shouted Mina, shoving her way through, surprising both Kirishima and Bakugo.

“What is going on?” questioned Bakugo, following behind Mina angrily.

Kirishima tilted his head to the side and leaned it forward with an unimpressed expression. “Really bro? Do you really expect us not to notice how suddenly you and Midoriya haven’t interacted once in the past couple days?”

Bakugo crossed his arms, sneering at the duo. “It’s none of your business!”

“Well excuse us for being weirded out how Midoriya hasn’t mentioned you once and how you haven’t trained once with him,” remarked Mina, snapping rather fast at Bakugo. She didn’t like whatever was going on between her classmates. They were about to graduate high school and be official heroes. Now was the worst time for petty fights.

“He’s the one who’s been avoiding me,” revealed Bakugo with a strange tone.

Kirishima and Mina shared a concerned glance. Midoriya distancing himself from Bakugo was a bad sign. Nothing Bakugo had ever done in their first year had been enough to drive Midoriya away. With their bond being incredibly close, something really bad must have happened to cause such a dramatic reaction from Midoriya.

Trying to recall how Midoriya had been acting and behaving over the past four days, Mina and Kirishima were still left with no answers. The only thing they really know is that Midoriya has spent a large amount of time with Uraraka.

“Oh… do you have any idea why?” asked Kirishima calmly, growing increasingly more invested in whatever drama bomb they may have missed.

“Yeah, I have a pretty good idea why,” admitted Bakugo quickly, looking at his hand with a small frown.

Mina rolled her eyes, shoving Bakugo lightly. “Stop being so cryptic and just tell us what happened already.”

“Izuku called me and told me he liked me.”

Mina gasped so hard she fell into a violent coughing fit. Kirishima patted her back to try and help but was equally surprised by the news. They couldn’t believe Midoriya and Bakugo hadn’t been in a secret relationship. As soon as the surprise faded away, a lingering fear arose.

Midoriya confessed. After said confession he avoided Bakugo and hadn’t mentioned him once. Bakugo rejected Midoriya.

“Dude… what the hell did you say?” responded Kirishima, aware that whatever came out of Bakugo’s mouth next would determine how hard the hit he was about to give him was.

Bakugo was quiet for far too long. Mina was standing in the corner of the room with her arms crossed. She loved Bakugo dearly, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with being a complete and utter idiot.

“I said ew.”

Kirishima punched Bakugo hard enough to earn a loud, “Fuck!”

Mina shook her head, raising a hand to cover her face. “You are horrible.”

“I know. That’s not even the worst part,” sighed Bakugo, taking a couple steps away from Kirishima.

“What did you do?’ whispered Mina, a panic rising to the surface. If her crush said ew at her when she confessed, that would have been enough for her to never show her face again.

Bakugo swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as he looked down at his feet. “I uh… I may have said "but you’re a boy”.”

Kirishima raised both hands to his head as he simultaneously threw his head back. Mina on the other hand fell to the ground, covering her face. Bakugo watched their dramatic displays of disapproval and felt panic fully set in. He knew he fucked up the moment the words came out of his mouth, but the conversation was an uncomfortable one and he still gets mean when he’s nervous even if he’s been working with a therapist for the past two years.

In the end, Bakugo still would have rejected Midoriya. Not because he didn’t like Midoriya or that he didn’t find him attractive, but rather he wasn’t mentally prepared for a relationship. There was something so daunting about the idea even though he would enjoy dating Midoriya.

Not feeling like he'd be good enough was the one thing that would always make Bakugo the bad guy. He lets his insecurities get the best of him and he takes it out on those around him. He didn’t think he’d make a good partner, and he felt like he’d lose Midoriya forever for rejecting him. In the heat of the moment, he said whatever it took to push Midoriya away.

In an attempt to save his own pride, Bakugo had deeply hurt and invalidated the most important person in his life. Now the person he wanted nothing more than to be around no longer felt comfortable being around him.

He knew he had no one else to blame. It was clear in the reaction of his friends.

“I know I fucked up. I know I really really fucked up. I knew that within the seconds he didn’t respond and before he hung up on me. I’m a fucking idiot and I ruin everything good in my life,” vented Bakugo, clenching his fists tightly.

“Dude, now isn’t the time to throw yourself a pity party. Now is the time to go find Midoriya, apologize, and actually say what you meant to say. He clearly cares about you enough that he developed romantic feelings for you. I’m sure he’d appreciate you apologizing,” corrected Kirishima, not allowing for this issue to develop any longer.

Mina scowled at Bakugo, tugging at his ear. “If he doesn’t forgive you, I wouldn’t blame him. Really? Ew? That poor boy probably spent so much time mustering the courage to confess and you tell him ew? And then you point out that he’s a guy? You might as well have just called him a murderer and been on your way,” chastised Mina, feeling incredibly overprotective of Midoriya after the wars.

Bakugo didn’t fight back, knowing his friends were right. He screwed up and he had the responsibility of fixing it. Midoriya was in love with him, and it felt like a dream being confessed to. Yet, he felt unqualified and proved exactly why he felt that way.

Taking in a deep breath, Bakugo swiftly threw open his door, closed it behind him, and ran to the elevator.

Even if his apology was accepted, Bakugo knew that it would take a lifetime to make it up to Midoriya.

Epilogue: They get married and adopt five kids by the time they are thirty. Mina, Kirishima, and Uraraka all downed their shots bi-weekly, fully paid for by Bakugo. Kirishima and Mina got their shots for their role in knocking sense into him. Uraraka got her shots as payment for allowing Midoriya to hear him out when he showed up at Midoriya's dorm door to apologize.

I Can Pull Off Anything

It was a stupid dare, but Midoriya wasn’t one to back down.

On an average Saturday, Midoriya and a couple of his close friends decided to hang out. Iida, Todoroki, Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Midoriya all made the group decision to have a nice picnic.

After preparing a bunch of snacks, grabbing drinks, and finding a nice but old blanket to use, the group headed outside. There was a giant field behind 1-A alliance where they set up their picnic.

They played card games, chatted about their classmates, and enjoyed all the snacks each person contributed. It was a beautiful day and despite the peaceful atmosphere, somehow truth or dare started.

After a couple rounds of silly/random questions and harmless dares, an interesting exchange occurred.

Uraraka smiled as she turned her entire body to Midoriya. “Deku! Truth or dare?”

“Dare!” shouted Midoriya excitedly, finding it exciting to finally play the game after spending countless years dreaming of having the friends to.

“I dare you… to wear a skirt our next time visiting the mall!” fired Uraraka eagerly after coming up with a dare.

Tsuyu perked up with a wide smile. “Good one Uraraka!”

“That’s highly inappropriate, Uraraka,” declared Iida loudly. Yet his face showed extreme amusement rather than any sternness to back up his criticism.

Todoroki looked Midoriya up and down before giving a thumbs up. “I’d like to see Midoriya in a skirt.”

Midoriya fell onto his back, covering his face in horror. “I can’t possibly do that! I’m going to be in the public eye! What if someone posts a picture or I get harassed!”

“Don’t whine, you big baby. You’ll be with us the entire time so no one’s going to harass you. Besides, when has someone ever recognized us when we go to the mall?” questioned Uraraka as she thinned her lips.

Tsuyu was still quietly laughing at Midoriya's reaction. “It doesn’t matter. The dare has been made and it doesn’t harm anyone.”

Midoriya threw his arms out to his sides as he cried to the sky. “I’m done with this game!”

“Yeah, we’ve been out here for hours now,” agreed Iida, looking up at the beautiful blue sky. “Besides, I promised to call my brother today.”

“Momo promised to cut my hair today so I should probably go and track her down,” huffed Uraraka, leaning back as she tightly gripped her knees.

Midoriya locked eyes with Todoroki before he smiled. “Want to go train?”

Todoroki returned the soft smile and nodded gently. “I’d like that.”

“I’m going to see if any of the girls want to go hit the onsen. I’m in desperate need of a spa day,” groaned Tsuyu as she rose to her feet and stretched her back.

Uraraka perked up with an excited smile. “Wait until Momo finishes my hair, and I’ll join you! I could definitely spend hours relaxing.”

Midoriya chuckled, cracking his knuckles before turning to Uraraka and Tsuyu. “That’s not a bad idea. I may take a trip after training.”

Iida chopped his hand after fixing his glasses instinctively. “I’ll join you Midoriya! Today’s all about relaxation.”

“I’m going too,” announced Todoroki as he situated himself next to Midoriya.

The group quickly cleaned up, headed off to do what they needed, and hit up the onsen. All the girls grouped together to enjoy the hot spring the school offered. Midoriya, Todoroki, and Iida met up as well and went to their respective onsen, letting the warm water soothe their sore muscles and wash away their stress.

Two weeks passed from that eventful hangout and Mina proposed the great idea of going shopping. It had been a while since UA had become a boarding school so many people had lists of things they needed and stuff they ran out of but hadn’t had time to get.

While going to the mall sounded wonderful to the majority of class 1-A, there was a small group who was enveloped in chaos. Midoriya looked mortified while Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Iida were all staring at him with a knowing smile. Todoroki didn’t recall the dare and seemed to be interested in spending a bunch of his father’s money.

Midoriya was dragged off by Uraraka to her room with Tsuyu right on the duo’s tails. As Midoriya was shoved onto Uraraka’s bed, the two ladies were digging through clothes only to find that there was nothing they specifically wanted Midoriya to wear.

Midoriya was still laying on the bed recovering from being dragged and tossed around as Tsuyu had pulled out her phone to make an important call.

“Tsuyu? What’s up?” inquired Momo softly from the other end of the call.

“I need your help finding a skirt that would look good on Midoriya,” answered Tsuyu bluntly, not bothering to give context upfront.

The group was met with silence. After fearing she scared off Momo, Tsuyu went to speak. Surprisingly, Momo beat Tsuyu to speak and perplexed, “Why do you need a skirt that Midoriya would look good in?”

Uraraka couldn’t hold back her laughter as she truthfully explained, “A couple weeks ago, we dared Midoriya to wear a skirt the next time we went to the mall. We were trying to find something for Midoriya to wear, but I have nothing that would work.”

“Oh, in that case I’ll be right over! I can just make something I think would complement Midoriya,” exclaimed Momo happily, more than willing to produce something specifically for Midoriya.

While Uraraka and Tsuyu were desperately thanking Momo for being willing to get involved in their problem, Midoriya was panicking. He couldn’t believe his friends were taking this seriously. He knew that clothes didn’t belong to one specific gender, but he wasn’t comfortable wearing a short skirt.

Midoriya struggled even wearing gym shorts out in public. On the rare occasions he did, it was in the warmer months for short trips or private workouts.

Despite Midoriya’s mind running a thousand miles a minute, Momo arrived at Uraraka's room and was quick to get Midoriya’s measurements. Uraraka and Tsuyu offered some design ideas, but Momo already knew what she wanted to make for Midoriya.

While Uraraka and Tsuyu cared about Midoriya, they were still his friends and wanted him to feel embarrassed. That was the point of the dare.

Momo wanted to assure Midoriya would be as comfortable as possible. She created a high-waisted skirt that flowed all the way down to rest right above his ankles. The skirt was flowy and in a light green color. The fabric was smooth, light, and silky. Still, she wanted to give Uraraka and Tsuyu their fun and added girly dark green flowers all over the bottom and gave the skirt a slit up to the knee on the left side.

The skirt was made in an instant and swiftly placed in Midoriya’s arms. Momo smiled softly as she instructed, “I’d wear that with a light yellow, almost cream-colored shirt!”

Midoriya shook his head with bright red cheeks. “I don’t own a shirt like that. I only own the stuff for my school uniform and graphic tees.”

Momo chuckled fondly at Midoriya before making him a light-yellow tee shirt. It wasn’t baggy like his usual shirts, but it wasn’t tight either. Nonetheless, Momo had worked her magic and made Midoriya a perfect outfit for the dare.

After quickly getting dressed once all the girls filed out of Uraraka’s room, Midoriya stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t deny that he did feel pretty. The longer he stared at himself, the more similarities he saw between him and his mother. It was nice.

Midoriya spun in a circle, watching as the dress twisted and flew with his sharp movements. He smoothed out the shirt and grinned at how well it complimented the skirt. The skirt covered enough of his body he was insecure about. Still, his leg muscles were curvy and were prominent against the silk fabric.

Midoriya quickly adjusted his black arm band over his large scar and smiled at the finished result. “Alright, you can come in.”

Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Momo quickly returned to the room only to loudly gasp at the sight before them. Crashing to her knees, Uraraka cried out. “Oh my god he’s beautiful!”

“You look really good Midoriya,” complimented Tsuyu calmly as she gently patted Uraraka’s head.

Momo smiled brightly, clapping her hands together. “It looks amazing on you just as I expected! I hope you like it a bit even if it is out of your comfort zone.”

Midoriya bowed aggressively before Momo. “I love it! Thank you so much for making this for me! You really didn’t have to, but you did anyway so I’m grateful!”

“Nonsense, its what friends do! Anyways, we should probably hurry up. I’m sure the others are already waiting for us,” reminded Momo, already halfway out the door.

Uraraka squeaked, throwing herself up. “You’re right! If you don’t mind, could you wait outside my room for a bit Deku?”

“I don’t mind at all!” reassured Midoriya as he followed out after Momo. Tsuyu was quick to follow Midoriya and headed off to her own room.

Standing in the hallway, Midoriya was left alone with his thoughts. Despite that large bit of his mind burning with embarrassment and dread of having to let his classmate see him in a skirt, there was a part of him that was scarily unbothered.

There had been many days where his scars bothered him more than they should have, but he was able to push past any insecurities he had. It seemed he felt the same way about the skirt.

Uraraka was ready in a matter of minutes and reunited with Midoriya in the hallway. Together they made their way down to the common room where everyone was gathering. All conversations quickly died as everyone's focus turned to Midoriya.

It was clear that everyone was expecting an explanation, but Midoriya got a last-minute idea to not address the elephant in the room. Instead of explaining he dared to wear a skirt, he made his way over to where Todoroki and Iida were with a smile.

“Hey guys!” greeted Midoriya happily.

Todoroki slowly blinked a couple of times before smiling. “Hello Midoriya. You look nice.”

Midoriya flashed Todoroki a bright smile, slipping his phone into one of the wonderful pockets Momo gifted him with. “Thank you! Are you ready to blow through some money?”

“Yes, I am. Do you have your list ready?” asked Todoroki quickly, flashing Enji’s credit card with an excitement that was rare to see on his usual stoic face.

“Of course I do, I have all the latest All Might merchandise in a neat list,” whooped Midoriya eagerly, doing his best to contain the true level of his excitement.

Iida fixed his glasses as he aggressively cleared his throat. “I have to admit, the skirt suits you well.”

Midoriya shot Iida with a strong thumb-up. “Thank you! Tsuyu called Momo for help.”

Kirishima, the first person brave enough to disrupt whatever staring contest the rest of the class was participating in, walked over to where the three were. “Woah Midoriya. Not that I'm complaining, but what’s with the skirt?”

“Oh, I was dared to wear one the next time I went to the mall by Uraraka,” revealed Midoriya bluntly, doing his best to not signal he was freaking out deep down.

Kirishima tried covering his red face, but Midoriya easily saw behind the facade. “You make me feel like a dude in the Victorian era seeing a woman’s ankle for the first time. It feels scandalous to see this.”

Midoriya’s face bloomed a beautiful shade of red at the oddly flattering and embarrassing comment. “Oh, uh… sorry?”

“I didn’t mean it like that! I mean I think you look really attractive in that!” shouted Kirishima, now being the one to capture the entire class's attention.

Kirishima and Midoriya were both crouching by the ground, covering their flushed faces. They were both ready to die of embarrassment. Midoriya peaked through his fingers to find Kirishima doing the exact same thing.

Having a single ounce of confidence to answer, Midoriya mumbled, “Thank you.”

Kaminari was more than happy to ruin the moment and shouted, “These bitches gay!”

“Glad to see you got the balls to confess Shitty Hair,” cackled Bakugo, thrilled to see the wonderful opportunity to embarrass Kirishima and Midoriya simultaneously.

It was safe to say that one single dare managed to create such a dramatic domino effect that Midoriya got a boyfriend. No one was complaining considering they got an entire day of Midoriya in a skirt and they were able to witness the bloom of a shocking relationship.

There was never a dull moment with class 1-A.

A/N: I wrote this in my universities library in between my exams. If the quality is bad blame my fried brain 😟🫵