#eijirou angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sprytesukii · 8 months ago

Text

you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

#bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou x you #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x bakugou #bnha smut #bnha angst #hurt/comfort #[ baby daddy : katsuki ]#[ instant nut : n/sft ]#[ i <3 writing : my works ]

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frickingnerd · 6 months ago

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kirishima with a s/o who has a healing quirk

pairing: eijirou kirishima x gn!reader

tags: established relationship, angst to fluff, worried kirishima, reader passing out, arguments (+resolved)

you have a powerful healing quirk, able to heal even the worst wounds. but it comes with a drawback – whenever you heal someone, you'll feel their pain!

for the longest time, you don't tell kirishima about that side effect of your quirk. but eventually, the day comes where he finds out himself

after he got hurt during training, you end up healing him, as well as his friends. only that you push yourself too far and end up collapsing

when you wake up again, kirishima has already carried you into the infirmary, where he already got the news about your quirk from recovery girl

kirishima feels incredibly guilty, causing him to lash out on you. he isn't like that usually, but he's so angry at himself that he snaps

in the end, that only makes him feel more guilty. you're unwell and he's yelling at you? what kind of boyfriend is he!?

the next day, kirishima stands in front of your room with a bouquet of roses, a big plushie and all of your favorite sweets, begging you for forgiveness

and finally, you're able to properly talk about things…

kirishima apologizes and vows to grow stronger, so he can protect you and his friends!

if nobody around him gets hurt anymore, then you won't have to use your quirk! so he just has to become the strongest around, so you'll never be in pain again…

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xotoru · 3 days ago

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*ೃ༄Thirsty

Synopsis: you go a bit crazy when you see your man looking so good in photos...

Feat: Katsuki.B, Shoto.T, Eijiro.K, Denki.K, Hanta.S, Izuku.M

#anime #fanfiction #fluff #smut #angst #manga #mha x reader #mha x you #bnha #bakugou katsuki #shoto todoroki #denki kaminari #izuku midoriya #hanta sero #kirishima eijirou #mha smau #smau

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fattuccini-afraido · 4 months ago

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Kirishima: Senpai, you look like you wanna go home.

Tamaki: That's irrelevant.

Tamaki: I always wanna go home.

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dustedfics · 2 months ago

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Pre-Relationship Bakugo Texts Pt. 5!

(the training camp attack)

Characters: K. Bakugo

Warnings: Angst, Cussing

A/N: Mini Post! Sorry for not being active the last two days, gonna post a second part to this in a couple hours! Enjoy!

Taglist: @babycheech @plexivie @platimoonie @digitaltrippers @mikestuffffs @bestboileeknow @suki0

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ .ೃ࿐ ༊*·˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ‧₊˚ ⋅*

#smau #mha smau #mha x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #mina ashido #my hero academia #x reader #fanfic #kirishima eijirou #angst #mha bakugou #mha villains #mha lov

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bakuettes · 3 months ago

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Catch My Drift 🏁 chapter 1

Street racer!bakugo x Street racer!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: cursing, douche bakugo, slight misogyny, alcohol consumption, drug use, illegal activities etc

Kanjozoku; The term Kanjozoku is derived from the combination of the words “kanjo” (meaning ring) and “zoku” (meaning group).

Kanjozoku primarily consists of young car enthusiasts in cities like Osaka and Tokyo who have a passion for speed and a desire to showcase their driving skills.

Osaka was the place to be. Not where tourists go to take pictures and try japanese cuisine, maybe pick up a few souvenirs from the large amount of little gift shops that littered the streets but where a community of young adults with the passion for racing congregate. The night was still young, the sounds of tires screeching against the cold pavement and engines roaring was heard over the heavy base of 2000s club music. Girls dressed in scandalous outfits mingling with the guys posted up next to their pimped out rides. You could practically feel the vibrations of the noise in your head.

Three cars lined up with the drivers sitting on the hoods of their prized possession. A bright orange 1993 Mazda RX-7 FD on the far left. The car’s color was comparable to an orange or maybe even the warm sunsets that would settle over japan. The next car over was a 1993 Toyota Supra Turbo Mark IV. The bright colorful lights that surrounded the meet reflected beautifully off the cars mustard yellow chrome. The third and final car was a looker. Silver 1999 Nissan Skyline GT-R R34 with royal blue detailing along the sides and on the hood. A royal blue flexivity rear wing with matching led lights underneath the body.

It was Bakugo’s baby. Spent years modifying and perfecting it. He was a skilled driver sure but having a car like his? Most would be intimidated to challenge him. “Yo Mina, let’s get this race going!” the orange mazda driver shouted. it was hard to find anyone in this crowd but said woman emerged from the sidelines with a confused look on her face. “Woah woah, wait a second.” She looked around the lot, once overing the lined up vehicles. “where’s your fourth at? i’m counting only three.” mina crossed her arms, unimpressed. the yellow toyota driver spoke up first “it was supposed to be joaquin but he caught the grave yard shift man.”

once you were scheduled to race it was a hassle to find new drivers, the time and place was set in stone. it wasnt that often when scheduled racers were a no show but then again many get caught racing outside of meets or their car needed more time to be repaired. It was a waste of mina’s time. she was the flag girl, not their fucking coordinator. “Na, y’all either find a fourth or you don’t race. How’s that sound? Times ticking boys.”

By standers erupted in shouts of anger and disappointment. they wanted to see a race, most of them drove well over an hour to be here! gas wasn’t cheap and neither was Minas time. Hearing the crowds complaining mina sighed and pitched them an idea. “Alright! i hear you guys, relax. How about this, why don’t i find y’all a driver and we settle this now?” bakugo smirked, nodding in agreement. he never said much but he also never needed to. his aura spoke volumes. “bring ‘em on.” he wasn’t nervous, he knew his talents and was confident. resting the palms of his hands on the hood of his car, he tilted his head towards the other racers, waiting to see hear their answers. “Anyone i want?” mina questioned with a grin that would give the cheshire cat a run for his money. “anybody baby!” orange jululis shouted, raising his arms to the side. cocky bastard. mina rolled her eyes and turned away from the drivers, pulling out her phone from her bra. there was a whole list of people she could call but there was only one person she knew who could end this race quickly.

she could hear the static from the other end of the phone. “y/n, you wanna race tonight?” it was quite for a moment before you spoke in to the speaker “i’m always down, send me your lo.” your voice was smooth like silk but sultry like a vixen. it sounded like you’ve been up for a while so mina didn’t feel bad for calling you so late. she knew you came alive in the night anyway. your energetic friend squealed before gathering herself together. “you got 5 minutes hun!” and then the line went dead.

it never took much convincing to get you out. when mina called you it was 12:15 am, meaning you only had exactly 5 minutes to get there. the meet lot was about 20 minutes out. you arrived there in 4, only a minute left to spare. the sound of you engine had heads turning (a certain blonde as well) as you slowly pulled through the crowd, careful not to hit party-goers. the hot pink body of your 2000 Honda S2000 was hard to miss. everyone knew who was inside and that fact alone made them scream louder. you never really cared too much though, it wasn’t like you had vocals like mariah carey. you didn’t have the ability to move like michael jackson. you were just a damn good racer and that was enough for them apparently.

all three racers turned their heads in the direction of the obnoxiously loud honda, tensing up at the sight. well, all except for one of course. bakugo had no idea why everyone was so fucking hyped. who was that? and why’s everyone acting like they’ve never seen a pink car?? “Racers!” mina yelled excitedly “here’s your fourth!”. your black stiletto boots were the first thing he saw exit the car. then it was a black leather hat. he glanced over at the others to study their reactions and they all had excitement swirling in their eyes. maybe even a hint of nervousness? bakugo didn’t have time to be sure because before he knew it, you were leaning back against the hood of your car crossing one leg over the other. “oh shit, it’s y/n.” you weren’t new to this, you were true to this. the air was crisp and cold, you probably should’ve brought a jacket because this top (if it could even be considered one) with this miniskirt wasn’t doing you no type of favors.

from the corner of your eye you could see a blonde headed man with spikey hair almost looking annoyed as he walked over to mina who was standing in the middle of the road. “no offense but i’m not racing a damn girl. you never said it would be a girl.” you rolled your eyes, who the hell does he think he is? a race is a race. why did it matter who was behind the wheel? you best friend looks beyond over this shit, she’s been annoyed her this whole night and she’s about to lose her patience. “you said anyone i wanted, i wanted her! stand next to your car before nobody races.”

“you scared spikes?” he turned his head to the side, watching you push yourself off the car and strut to the middle where he and mina stood. he sized you up, shamelessly checking you out. “what the hell did you jus call me?” he wasn’t scared. why would bakugo be scared of some princess nobody? “can you even drive with those heels on?” your outfit was impractical he thought. a miniskirt that just barely covered the expanse of your ass (not that he really minded) and what looks like a triangle bikini top. if you were to bend over then— no. now’s not the time to thirst over you. even if he did think you were hot.

“i’m just askin.. why wouldn’t you wanna race me if you weren’t scared?” you’ve dealt with his type before, cocky, thinks they’re better than everyone and so on. he’s got sharp red eyes with a piercing gaze. you let your eyes trail away from his face down to the hardened muscles on his chest. clearly well built and his black tshirt was doing nothing to hide it. “man whatever,” your eyes moved back to his hearing the sound of his voice. “i’m not doin this, find somebody else.” he wasn’t scared, he just felt that he could be using this time to race against someone on his level. why’s it that the egotistical men somehow always find you? you would’ve just let him go but you hated the feeling of being looked down on. he’s no better than you, he doesn’t even know what you have to offer. do you did what you do best, you uped the ante.

“15 grand.” you raised your voice a bit. silence fell over the crowd. “i’ll give you 15 grand if you agree to race tonight and win, that applies to the other racers too” you say to the other two drivers still next to their cars. that made him stop dead in his tracks. were you insane? you’re acting like that’s pocket money. fuck, he doesn’t know if he should do it. he didn’t need the money, but his sister did. he tries to help his mother out the best he can, this would cover at least two months worth of bills. gritting his teeth he turns around starting directly at you “don’t start to regret this when you lose ma.” got ‘em, you thought with shit eating smirk.

you walked past him, shoulder checking the man who’s name you still don’t know. he looked at you, staring at your ass as your skirt rode up with every step you took. you must’ve felt bakugo’s stare because your hands grab them hem of the denim and pull it down, throwing him a flirty smile over your shoulder. the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink. he quickly looks to the side, licking his lips attempting to play it off as if the whole meet did see the interaction. all the racers start getting into there respective cars, starting them up. mina struts to the middle of the street once again only this time with a checkered flag. her brown skin was glowing, the lights reflecting off the body glitter she wore.

“Racers!”

mina exudes confidence. you hand your left hand on the wheel, the other hand tightly gripping on to the gear shift. foot tapping on the gas a bit. you were high off adrenaline, you lived for moments like these.

“Start your engines..”

bakugo couldn’t help but stare at you. the look in your eyes. ‘s like you got off on this, the wicked smile on your lips doing nothing to make him think otherwise. he wasn’t fazed though, he had this in the bag. maybe even after he wins he could take you out but that was something he’d ask later, he needs to focus. the flag drops.

“GO!”.

and you were gone.

𝐀/𝐍!!: okay why was this way harder than i thought? 😭 please bare with me ik im not that advanced in writing. i also don’t know a lot about cars but i research by chapter. lmk how u like it so far and i promise to produce better work as time goes on!

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skymar13 · 2 months ago

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“Please don’t die on me!”

Tw: suicide. Reader death.

He shouted at your body. You’d given your all on the field. Using your quirk to defeat shigaraki had its drawbacks, one of them being your life. But you’d known this outcome from the very beginning. You’d known you were going to die before you even stepped onto the battlefield. You’d told few of your plan but the one person you couldn’t tell was your boyfriend. How are you to tell the love of your life that your blood shed would end in your death? You couldn’t. Your last words were now engrained into his brain.

“Thank you for allowing me to be the best hero I could be”

your shaky voice rung on the intercom. He didn’t think much of it until he saw your figure shoot into the sky your quirk blowing out of your body and your flesh scattering across the sky your blood dripping like rain. It was a sight he never imagined he’d be seeing. How could he? You were supposed to go out after this. Take off and live your lives as pro heroes together. But he saw that image crumble in front of him.

Here he was sobbing with you in his arms, limp and cold. He was yelling curses and begs but he knew you were gone. And he knew he couldn’t live without you.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The whole class had been shaken about your death no one could not think about you. Your dorm stayed the way it was. The last bowl you ate out of stayed in the sink. Your laundry was still soaking in the washing machine. No one could even think about touching what once was yours. All your lasts. It was heart breaking. But what was most heart breaking was seeing your boyfriend break in front of them. He took it the hardest. He didn’t eat drink shower he just layed on the floor of your room crying and holding a photo of the two of you at Christmas.

He couldn’t take this anymore he was pathetic. Pathetic without you atleast. How is he supposed to live with you? He couldn’t. So he didn’t.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He got up for the first time in a week. He went to one of your favorite places. The planetarium.

They should really start adding security to tall buildings.

He trudged up the steps your photo in hand. Silent tears still falling from his face. He unzipped his jacket and took off his shoes stepping onto the edge.

The last thought he had was of you. His last words were to you.

“See you soon.”

Anyone.

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izufeels · 3 months ago

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hihi :3 its my silly little birthday tomorrow and I was wondering if you could do an smau for kirishima !! kinda angst -> comfort over reader thinking he forgot their birthday but he didnt !! If not feel so free to ignore, huge love for all your works 🫶

⁝ EIJIROU KIRISHIMA !

description: he seemingly forgets your birthday

content warning: smau; just bit of angst bc ei cant keep a secret; “lovey”; good bf kirishima

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these-written-reveries · 3 months ago

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Selfish (kiribaku ver.)

‣ Pairing: KiriBaku x GN!Reader

‣ Genre: Flangst, Hurt/Comfort

‣ Summary: Katsuki is convinced that you and Eijirou are in love with each other, but not him. He tries to do what he thinks is right by keeping his feelings suppressed and hidden from you, instead of trying to get between the happiness of the two people he loves the most. His plan quickly begins to fall apart the moment you confront him, and his selfish urges take over.

‣ Warnings: Angst, Katsuki being sad and having low self-esteem, false unrequited love, making out, Reader uses the “girl’s” elevator (but we can just pretend gender plays no part in the placement of the dorm rooms in this scenario), the word “fuck” is used a lot, repeated use of a "noose" metaphor? idk

‣ Word Count: 6,350

‣ A/N: This is more of a Katsuki-centric fic, with a bonus fluffy kiribaku blurb at the end!

There is a Katsuki x Reader version of this here, if you’re interested!

Main Masterlist

Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man.

He had begrudgingly accepted this truth a long time ago. Despite how it appeared on the surface, he was quite self-aware. Sure, it didn’t require that much self-reflection to figure it out, considering he’d been told this very truth by others around him multiple times throughout his life—at least by the ones that were brave enough to do so—but that’s beside the point. He still came to be aware of it, one way or another.

He could remember the early days of his youth as a spoiled, entitled brat. Even before his quirk developed, he always poised himself as superior to others. He was as selfish as they came. Throwing fits when he didn’t get his way, hurting people around him to ease the raging storm of feelings that were too big for his tiny body, always stealing the spotlight from others, expecting praise and rewards for every little thing he did. Kids are inherently selfish, to some degree, but little Katsuki blew every kid in his grade out of the water, in this regard.

Things didn’t improve all that much as he grew older, but he did get a little better. At least he no longer threw tantrums over not getting ice cream after school or every time he was told “no.” And he no longer sought praise for merely breathing. He preferred to truly earn his title as “the best” at whatever he decided to do—even if that meant knocking some other kids down to get there faster. A minor improvement, but his selfish nature was still wildly out of control. Even when he did recognize it, he didn’t care enough to fix it. He was already seen as an asshole, what was the point in trying to change the minds of people he saw as below him?

It wasn’t until he broke free of his ass-kissing, follower friends and met you, Eijirou, and the other friends "extras" from UA that he finally began to really see and care about his selfish ways—especially how they affected the people he truly respected and cared about. Katsuki wasn’t devoid of a heart, despite what many people believed. He wasn’t incapable of feeling remorse for his actions and of learning how to be a better person. He just never had the proper tools or guidance to be able to grow into the person that he, deep down, wanted to be.

That, and he didn’t have the same motivation before as he suddenly did when you and Eijirou stepped into his life. You pushed him to be better, just by being yourselves. Katsuki was inspired by you from the moment he met you. The way you carried yourselves and the way you managed to handle him and all that came with being his friend. It only made him respect you more. And as he inevitably began to fall for you, he felt the desire to be a better person for you grow even stronger. He wanted to prove to you that he was worth keeping around, even if he wasn’t always “the best” at everything. The last thing he wanted was to lose you over his problematic ways.

To his luck, you and Eijirou were some of the most tolerant people he had ever met. That didn’t mean you never called him out on his shit, though. Katsuki deeply valued you for that. He had grown to be more open and accepting of critical feedback, specifically if it came from you and Eijirou. How could he become a great hero, never mind a great man, if he refused any and all feedback that wasn’t positive?

That said, it still wasn’t easy for him to so easily accept when he was wrong. And it was even more difficult for him to push past his pride enough to apologize for it. But all it took was one look from you or Eijirou to make him give in and do just that. How you managed to gain such power over him, he’d never understand. If he wasn’t so damn in love with you, he’d hate you for it.

He still hated you for it. But in a “fuck you for making me love you so much” kind of way.

If it wasn't for his internal commitment to be a better person—one that you could be proud to know—he would have given into his selfish urges, stolen your hearts, and marked his claim on them a long time ago.

Katsuki had quickly come to learn that being a good person sucks.

“Oh, Eiji texted. He said he’ll be here soon! I invited him. Figured you wouldn’t mind. He said he needs all the help he can get for this upcoming exam,” you said as you began typing a message back to him.

“Fucking hell.”

“Huh?”

You looked up at Katsuki after hearing him grumble something unintelligible under his breath. His eyes met yours for only a brief moment before he averted his gaze, gesturing to the open books in front of you.

“Nothing. Get back to studying! Do you wanna pass that exam, or what?”

You threw your head back as you groaned. “Can’t we just take a little break? Eiji’s not even here yet and we have so much time left to work on this!”

Katsuki pointed his pen at you. “You might have time, but I don’t. You’re lucky I’m even using my spare time to help you idiots with this!”

You rolled your eyes. “You wanted to study for this test too. And you’re the one always preaching about how it’s important to take breaks!”

Before he could respond, you shut your book and looked at him inquisitively.

“So…what were you thinking about before? You looked…more annoyed than usual. Am I annoying you?”

“What the hell do you mean? I don’t look like anything!”

He could see you trying to stifle a laugh, though behind it was a glint of concern in your eyes.

“You look like something is really bothering you, is all.”

“Yeah. You are! Shut up and get back to work,” he growled, though you felt no real malice behind it. You had quickly learned long ago not to take the hotheaded blonde’s rude attitude seriously, often times finding it to be more of a protective shield than anything else.

“Okay, whatever you say,” you said, holding your hands up defensively with a slightly amused smirk on your face. Katsuki huffed in response as he looked away.

Giggling at his strange, yet all too familiar behavior, you opened your textbook again, only to be distracted less than a minute later by another ding from your phone. Katsuki could already tell it was another text from Eijirou by the way you smiled at your screen when you read it. You only ever smiled like that when reading the redhead’s messages, much to Katsuki’s chagrin.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki thought as he stared at you from across the table, frustration and hurt bubbling within his chest.

The truth was, you had the strange ability to make his heart flutter and his stomach do flips and his hands sweaty and fill his brain with so many thoughts of you, it couldn’t focus on anything else. You did all this just by existing as your stupidly beautiful, perfect self.

You even made him feel this way when you looked your “worst”. Beaten up after a bad fight, sleep deprived with bags under your eyes, after—very ungracefully—shoving a giant serving of food into your mouth, just waking up with messy hair and crusty eyes and morning breath, sick with snot constantly leaking out of your nose. All of this and he was still head over heels, swooning over you like a fool. And dammit, did it piss him off.

Even worse, he knew you had feelings for your redheaded friend and not him. He couldn’t blame you for this. He also found himself feeling similarly towards Eijirou, as he did you. He was a damn lovable idiot. A good guy, all around. The kind of man Katsuki wished he could be more like.

He couldn’t blame Eijirou for loving you either. As far as Katsuki was concerned, how could anyone not fall for either of you?

Katsuki loved your entire personality -even the parts that frustrated him most. Especially those parts. On top of that, you were absolutely gorgeous. When he begrudgingly thought of you and Eijirou together, without him, he couldn’t deny that the two of you would make an amazing couple—looks-wise and personality-wise.

It infuriated him to no end. He wanted to hate you both, push you away, relocate somewhere far away so that he’d no longer have to bear the pain of seeing the two of you flirting together, holding hands, laughing at each other’s jokes, hugging one another, and inevitably doing all the things that couples do. All the things that Katsuki wanted so desperately to do with you both.

But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. There was no way he could bring himself to not only truly hate you, but to go on living life without you both. He would likely never admit it, but you had become so interwoven in his life and his heart, that an existence without you just seemed so bleak and empty.

So, as much as it pained him to sit through hangouts and study sessions and the like, all while bearing witness to how close, how touchy, how obviously in love, you and Eijirou were with one another and not him, he chose to stick around and keep his mouth shut. He made a solemn promise to himself not to utter a word about his feelings to either of you, ever.

For once, he saw exactly what he wanted, right in front of him, and he chose not to take it. He chose not to ruin whatever closeness he did have with the two of you. But more importantly, he chose not to ruin you and Eijirou’s chances at finding the happiness that you both deserved, far more than he did.

It was the most selfless thing he’d ever done. And it was the hardest thing he’d ever done too. He felt his heart break every time he saw the affectionate way you treated one another, but he bit his tongue. He tried to shove his feelings down deeper and deeper, but they kept coming back up, tightening around his throat like a noose until he choked.

The truth became quite apparent to him at one point. Loving you both from afar would be his undoing. And maybe he deserved it? Maybe this was his punishment for being an asshole and tearing others down for his own benefit for all those years.

He’d take his punishment. Just so long as he could continue to know you, even if he wanted to know you so much more.

God, he fucking loved hated you.

After the previous day’s study session, Katsuki needed a break from the two of you. He planned to spend most of the day training and holed up in his dorm, just to avoid you both as much as possible; to set his mind straight and get his feelings back where they belonged—locked away in a dark unlabeled box in his mind, along with all of his other unwanted thoughts and feelings. He was starting to lose his composure around you, and when that happened, he always tried to stay out of your way for a few days until he was “fine” again.

“Fine” had lost all its meaning months ago, and yet, he found himself saying it all too often.

“You okay, Kats? You’re not really on your A game today,” you said as you walked over to help him off the ground for the second time that day.

Katsuki scoffed, a low growl brewing in his throat as he spoke. “I’m fuckin’ fine. Wasn’t planning on having you idiots around, distracting me.”

You and Eijirou seemed to have the same idea about working out and training that day. Katsuki ran into you both on his way to the gym. Almost turned around and booked it back to the dorms, but you happened to see him and waved him over to join you. Both of you smiled happily as you greeted him. It pissed him off so much, but he couldn’t say no to you when you both looked so damn cute, asking him to join you with those sharp teeth and pretty eyes sparkling as you looked up at him.

He wanted to curse you both out. Tell you to fuck off and leave him alone.

Get out of his fucking head, already! Stop torturing him with those fucking adorable smiles that made his heart clench in his chest! Stop being so fucking nice to him!

But he bit his tongue, salvaged whatever little composure and willpower he had left, and joined you both to train.

And he fucking sucked the whole time. It only added to his inner turmoil even more. He was too distracted. Too focused on you and Eijirou and the way you both looked so fucking good when you were focused, when you had sweat dripping down your skin, when you were looking at him with those determined eyes while sparring, when you didn’t hold back against him.

At least the two of you were more focused on him than each other, at the moment. Katsuki had insisted that you both took turns going against him until he kicked both of your asses. He was on round three, at this point. He had lost to you both a total of three times in a row.

He knew that you and Eijirou were starting to question his strange behavior lately. He practically stormed out of his own dorm the day prior during your study session together. He didn’t say a word. Just got up and left.

Why?

Because you and Eijirou. That’s why.

When he came back, things were awkward as the two of you tried to ask him about it. He didn’t look at either of you when he told you to leave, not wanting you to see his red, glossy eyes.

It was embarrassing, to feel this weak.

Eijirou knocked on his door later that evening to talk to him. He didn’t answer.

Now the two of you were obviously trying to pretend that everything was normal, for his sake, trying to gently coax whatever was bothering him out of his system in hopes that he’d come around and get out of whatever shitty headspace he was in. You were being good friends, like usual. Always so attentive and thoughtful and caring.

He wanted to scream.

This time, he managed to defeat Eijirou, but he could tell his moves were slightly slower. He was going fucking easy on him. The redhead giving him a pity win only managed to send Katsuki over the edge.

By the time it was your turn, he wasn’t even fully present in his body anymore. All he was focused on was winning one round. Just one solid win was all he needed.

He moved on autopilot, blocking and countering all your attacks swiftly as they came. Thankfully, you weren’t holding back. For a moment, he felt like he was finally winning at something. The suffocating feelings began to dissipate as the adrenaline high began to kick in, filling him with a sense of power and control.

Until you called for a pause.

“What the fuck! Why?!” he barked, smoke wafting off of his hot hands.

Eijirou held a hand out at him, signaling him to back off as he ran towards you. “Chill the fuck out man, they're hurt!”

“Huh?”

It was only then that he realized you were holding your weight on one leg, struggling to keep yourself balanced as you tried to stand on your own. Eijirou was quick to catch you before you fell.

You had an ugly burn on your leg from one of his explosions. He thought he had released it far enough away from you to dodge it. He was clearly wrong.

Katsuki’s head was fuzzy as he stared at you, frozen in place. Eijirou inspected your wound, offering you sweet words of comfort and praise as he carefully wrapped it with gauze.

Damn it.

Katsuki could barely breathe now. The noose growing tight around his throat again.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to Recovery Girl.” Eijirou lifted you up into his arms with ease, carrying you out of sight.

Your little whimper of pain shot straight through his heart.

Fuck.

“Come on, Katsuki!” Eijirou called out to him, slight urgency in his voice.

Katsuki remained frozen where he stood, hands clenched and chest heaving as he tried to fight back the tears that were building in his eyes. A million thoughts and feelings swirled inside of him, threatening to burst through the seams of his being.

“Kats?” Your voice sounded distant. It echoed in the background of his mind before it fully reached him.

“Go on without me,” was all he could say. He cringed at the way his voice wavered when he said it.

“Come on, man. You should-”

“Go!” Katsuki yelled, interrupting Eijirou’s attempt to change his mind.

All he heard after that was the sound of Eijirou’s footsteps as they faded away.

You and Eijirou had tried to reach out to Katsuki for four days. He somehow managed to avoid the two of you at every turn. He mostly stayed locked up in his dorm when school wasn’t in session. All calls went to voicemail. All texts left on read.

The two of you even went as far as to try to get Sero or Mina to check in on him. Denki offered to give it a shot, but you declined. You both knew he’d probably only aggravate him more, despite his best intentions.

Every plan of yours failed.

At one point, you couldn’t take it anymore and ended up crying to sleep in Eijirou’s arms one night. He shed a few tears himself as he tried to soothe your sadness and worry; all the while, he was struggling just as much.

You both missed your best friend. And despite your reassuring comments to each other that he would come back soon, that he just needed some space, you were both starting to crumble under the fear that maybe he wouldn’t. He had been acting strange lately, even before the most recent event occurred.

What if you had upset him? What if he was tired of being your friend? What if you were holding him back somehow?

Your thoughts spun in circles in your mind until you began to feel dizzy and sick to your stomach. After tossing and turning for hours that night, you headed down to the kitchen to make yourself some tea in hopes that it’d finally help you quiet your mind enough to allow you to get some much-needed sleep.

Thankfully, it did, because by the time Katsuki walked into the room to get some water after he couldn’t sleep, you were passed out with your head on the table, your hair sprawled out messily around you and your half-empty mug of cold tea.

You looked beautiful.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki cursed you in his head as he stared down at your hunched over, sleeping form.

The common room was so quiet this late at night, he could clearly hear your little breaths with every rise and fall of your chest. He spotted drool slightly dripping out of one side of your parted lips.

The sight made his heart flutter.

On your feet, he spotted those cute fluffy bunny slippers that him and Eijirou picked out for you one day at the mall. He remembered that day with fondness, how you all worked together in teams to find a pair of slippers for each other. In the end, Eijriou was happy to receive shark slippers and Katsuki was surprised with Grumpy Cat slippers. He could still hear both of your laughs as you made a comment about how his face matched his slippers perfectly.

Dammit, he missed your laughs so much.

He huffed in a mixture of sadness and frustration as he turned to walk away, only to stop himself in his tracks after a few steps. He took one look back at you over his shoulder before sighing in defeat.

Walking closer, he worked up the courage to wake you and subsequently face you for the first time in four days. What came out was much more aggressive than he intended.

“Oi!”

You jumped and his heart clenched slightly. He bit the inside of his cheek as you looked up at him, sleepy and confused.

“Ka’ski?” your sweet voice, thick with sleep, filled his ears. He clenched his fists, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth.

“Go to your dorm. You’re gonna end up with a fucked up neck and back sleeping like that, idiot.”

He began to walk away after that, heading towards the elevator at the end of the room. He didn’t get far, though. The unpleasant screech of a chair on the hard floor, followed by the far more pleasant feeling of your hand wrapped around his wrist stopped him right in his tracks.

“Wait!”

“Go to bed, Y/N,” Katsuki warned. The last thing he wanted was to have whatever conversation you were attempting to start with him.

“No. I can’t sleep, anyway. I just keep worrying about you. Please. Just tell me what’s wrong and what I can do to fix it,” you implored.

Katsuki was tense under your grip, but he didn’t try to pull away, even as he let out a loud huff of frustration.

“Just fuck off, okay? There’s nothing you can do.”

You stared at the back of his head with so much pain and sadness in your eyes. Katsuki could feel your gaze on him. He knew better than to look back at you. That look alone would break his heart more than anything else could.

“I won’t ever stop trying, Katsuki. And neither will Eiji. We care about you so much. We miss you so badly. Please, just talk to me. If not me, then Eiji.” Your voice was starting to waver slightly as you spoke. Katsuki hated himself for being the reason behind your sadness and tears.

Even still, he couldn’t let you in on this. Neither you, nor Eijirou, could know. He just needed more time to sort out his feelings and lock them away, where they belonged. But after four days, he was still struggling to get himself back in order. All of it was starting to consume him, distract him, make him perform badly as a student and a hero in training. That part only encouraged him to avoid the two of you even more. He wasn’t going to let stupid feelings ruin everything he had worked so hard for.

His silence only pushed you to speak again.

“Katsuki?”

“No.” He pulled away from your grip, but you reached out to grab him again.

“Katsuki, please!”

He spun around to face you, eyes brimming with tears as he yelled in your face.

“What?! You just can't leave shit alone, can you?! Just fuck off, already!”

You looked at him with heartbroken eyes, biting your lower lip to suppress its quivering as tears began to fall down your face.

Fuck.

Katsuki inhaled sharply as his broken and battered heart shattered to pieces in his chest. Both of you were silent as you stared at one another, unsure of how to progress the conversation without breaking into a fit of tears.

“Fuck, I’m…I’m sorry,” Katsuki mumbled, voice just audible as he looked down at the ground between you. “Just leave me alone, okay? You and Ei are better off without me, anyway.”

He pulled away from your grip and this time, you didn’t reach for him again. However, your voice still followed him as he walked further away from you.

“How could you say that? You mean the world to us, Kats! We’re fucking lost without you! We need you. If this is about the other day, just forget about it. I’m fine. All is forgiven-”

“It’s not just about that.” He stopped in his tracks once more, back facing you.

“Then what is it about? Are you mad at me or Eijirou?”

Katsuki shook his head. Your confusion and desperation drew you closer to him. His feet remained glued to the floor.

“You’re not mad?”

“I-“ Katsuki stopped himself. “Just fuck off, Y/N. I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Katsuki!”

"BECAUSE I- ugh!" he growled, "because it would be selfish of me to tell you! It’d only make things worse! I'm trying to be...fucking better than that."

You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued.

“It was selfish of me to stick around as long as I did. I should’ve just left the two of you be a long time ago. I thought I could-” He sighed. “Never mind. Point is, it’s gone too far. You even got hurt because of my stupid bullshit.”

“What has gone too far? Katsuki, stop talking like this. You’re not going anywhere. Let’s go wake Eiji and we’ll talk this out.” There was a clear presence of fear in your tone as you reached out to grab his left hand that was clenched in a tight fist at his side.

He ripped himself away from you. “No. This conversation is over.”

The way he spoke, his voice quiet, lacking any of his usual attitude, made your stomach twist in knots. He sounded so sad, so weak, completely defeated. It was completely unlike him, and it scared the shit out of you.

“I give you full permission to be selfish! Just fucking look at me! Tell me what’s wrong!” you begged.

At this point, you were seconds away from getting on your knees just to get his attention, or at the very least, pity. You couldn’t let him walk out of this room. You knew the chances of getting him to open up to you again after this were slim to none. This was it. You had to fight harder; show him you weren’t giving up on him, no matter how hard he pushed you away.

Katsuki was silent, but you could see the way his hands trembled at his sides; his head hung low, his chest heaving. You waited with bated breath behind him, praying he wouldn’t walk away.

Surprisingly, after what felt like a millennium, he turned to face you, his head still facing the floor.

You were scared to make the wrong move, as if you were faced with a small, wounded animal that could scurry off if you so much as breathed the wrong way.

“Kats?” you whispered softly. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s not.”

“Why do you say that? Katsuki, look at me.” You stepped forward and raised your hand, gently lifting his chin up so you could finally meet his eyes. What you saw broke your heart.

Red eyes glossed over with tears, lower lip quivering as he tried and failed to stifle the emotions that seemed to overtake him. Your eyes only filled with more tears of your own as you stared back at him sadly.

“I don’t want to see you happy without me,” he whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“I want to be the reason you are happy. I want to give you everything you deserve and more. Both of you.”

“Katsuki…You do make us happy. If anything, we are the least happy when you’re not around,” you said, fingers tracing down his wrist and giving his hand a small squeeze once he allowed you to grasp it. He only seemed to grow more upset at this as he looked down at your interlocked hands.

“But you don’t want me, you want each other.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, we wa-” You froze as realization hit you. “Wait…”

Katsuki made a tsk sound. "Looks like you finally got it. Took you long enough."

You blinked at him. "I- Kats, if you have something to tell me, you better say it now."

"I think you know. Why don't you tell me?"

He was too scared to say it and you knew it.

"Katsuki-"

"Tell me."

You sighed, suddenly growing nervous as you began to second-guess if what you were about to say was actually correct. Katsuki's hold on your hand grew tighter as he awaited your answer. If he wasn't so focused on what you were about to say, he'd be embarrassed about the growing dampness between your palms.

"I...do you....do you have...feelings....for me and Eiji?"

Katsuki’s silence was all the confirmation you needed. You let out a breath of relief.

“Kats-”

“Do you?” he asked, before clarifying. “Have feelings for me? If the answer is ‘no’, say it now and we’ll never speak about it again.”

You stepped closer to him, slippers touching his as you looked at him with soft eyes.

"What if the answer is ‘yes’?" you whispered.

For a moment, you both exchanged glances between eyes and lips, your hearts racing as you awaited the other’s move.

Finally, Katsuki spoke.

"Do I still have permission to be selfish?"

You nodded, and before you knew it, his hands were on either side of your face, and his lips were crashing against yours.

He pushed you against the nearby wall, never breaking his lips from yours, as he kissed you hungrily, desperately, lovingly. You ran your fingernails up the nape of his neck, weaving your fingers through his messy blond locks and earning a groan from him as he pulled you closer by your hips and deepened the kiss even more.

By the time he came up for air, you were both panting heavily. His grip on your hips didn’t loosen and neither did yours around his neck as you stared at each other speechlessly.

After a moment, your lips formed into a smile.

“We’ve been wanting to tell you,” you confessed.

Katsuki’s soft smile quickly faded into a bewildered frown. “Hah?”

“Eijirou and I, we want you, Katsuki. As far more than a friend.”

Katsuki visibly stopped breathing for a brief moment. You nervously continued to speak.

“But there’s no pressure or anything! We just wanted to talk to you about how we feel, not just for each other, but for you. Every time we’d try, you stormed off, or were clearly out of it, so we were too nervous to bring it up.”

“How long?”

Now it was your turn to look confused.

“What?”

“How long have you and Eijirou been talking about this?”

“Well, we confessed to each other almost two weeks ago-”

“Two weeks?! Fuck you!” he cursed.

You gasped. “Hey! Watch it, mister!”

“Fuck you for ruining my life by making me love you so goddamn much! And fuck both of you for not telling me sooner and letting me suffer! Do you have any idea how painful it has been watching the two of you idiots and your stupid cutesy, touchy, flirty bullshit, every single day?” he ranted, obviously frustrated, but not truly directed at you.

“Aw, Kats…We didn’t realize-”

“’Course you didn’t! You were too wrapped up in each other! I always thought you’d never return my feelings because it was obvious you two were obsessed with each other.”

This time, he sounded sad. You cupped his face with your hands, gently running your thumbs over his soft cheeks.

“We have always been obsessed with you too, Kats. It’s not that we didn’t want to be that way with you too. We were just never quite sure about your feelings for us and we didn’t want to cross any lines or make you uncomfortable,” you explained.

He let out a sigh, eyes closing as he relaxed into your touch.

“We should talk with Ei tomorrow,” you said.

He nodded in agreement, soaking up the feeling of your touch; something he had dreamed of and desperately craved for so long. Finally, his dreams were coming true. He was melting between the palms of your hands, and he couldn't have been happier about it.

Now that he'd had a taste, he'd be damned if he were to ever let you go.

“You’re mine now. Got it?” he said, his hands slightly squeezing your hips as he looked into your eyes.

You smirked amusingly at him. “Woah there, don’t get too selfish now. You gotta share.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. I don't mind sharing. So long as it's with Shitty Hair, I can manage. That doesn’t mean you’re not mine, though!”

You giggled, pulling him in for another kiss, to which he happily obliged. This time, he kissed you back tenderly, savoring every second of your soft lips on his. You melted into him completely, allowing him to pull you even closer against him, his strong arms keeping you locked in place.

You placed a hand on his chest at one point, signaling that you needed air. He grunted before reluctantly pulling away.

He pressed his forehead against yours, smirking at the way you grew visibly flustered under his intensely loving gaze.

“It’s late. W-We should get to bed.”

He hummed in response. “Fine.”

Taking your hand, he walked you over to the elevator across the room, both of you still silently processing all that had just happened until you finally reached the large metal doorway.

You stepped inside the elevator, bidding him goodnight.

“Night,” he said, turning around and beginning to walk away.

His feet came to a halt when he felt a sudden, familiar urge take over him, and this time, he didn’t fight it. Before he knew it, he had his arm between the metal doors, forcing them to reopen.

“Kats-”

He interrupted you by crashing his lips against yours once more, cradling your face in his hands as he kissed you with everything he had. Every skipped beat of his heart, every pang in his stomach, every moment of longing, every loving thought he’d ever had of you flashed through his mind. For once, he wasn’t concerned about ruining anything, of hurting anyone, of losing you. All he cared about was satisfying the insufferable itch of longing and desire he’d carried for you all this time.

Finally, the noose was gone, the bad feelings dissipating while the others became one with his being. He could breathe again.

When he pulled away, he was smiling. He was happy.

And you were too. Happy because of him. Happy with him.

“You should be selfish more often,” you said, still trying to catch your breath.

Katsuki stopped the doors from closing in on him, his eyes still locked on you as he let out a chuckle.

“That’s a first. Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”

He backed out of the elevator, finally allowing the doors to close. You stared at him as heat rushed to your face, capturing a glimpse of his growing smirk until he was no longer in sight.

Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man.

And oh, did you love every bit of him.

*The next day*

"Mannn...I can't believe you guys kissed for the first time and I wasn't even there for it!" Eijirou whined, an adorable pout on his face as he looked between the two of you.

"Are you jealous, Eiji?" you teased, lightly nudging him with your elbow.

"Yes! Do you know how long I've been waiting to kiss you both? It's been torture holding out from kissing you while waiting for Katsuki to get on board, and now I've come to find out that you two were making out for the first time without me?!"

Katsuki shrugged, nodding towards you. "They gave me permission. Blame them."

Eijirou scoffed. "I sure hope they did!"

"He means, I gave him permission to be selfish. I didn't know he was going to kiss me when I said that," you clarified.

"Oh, you knew, and you sure as hell didn't stop me."

"Well, of course not!" you said.

Katsuki smirked at you and you felt heat rush to your face. A brief knowing look was shared between the two of you as you recalled the events of the previous night.

Eijirou watched your silent interaction, his pout increasing as he whined. "I wanna kiss you both too!"

"You snooze, you lose," Katsuki said, breaking his stare away from you and taking a sip of his coffee.

Eijirou narrowed his eyes at him. "Scratch that. I definitely don't wanna kiss you right now."

"Hey!" Katsuki barked, looking at the redhead offendedly.

You giggled at them both, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks.

"Both of you, hush. We have plenty of time for kissing later. Now, let's get to work! We can't fail this exam!"

Katsuki rolled his eyes, trying to fight off the growing redness on his cheeks. "Now look who's all ready to study, for once."

"Well, we gotta make sure we all pass! I'm not being left in the dust by the two of you just because of one stupid failed exam!" you said.

Eijirou’s eyes softened as he looked at you. "Aw, hun, we would never."

Katsuki nodded in agreement. "Damn straight. I'll make sure both of you idiots pass, even if I have to jam all the information into your heads myself."

"That always works with me! Right, Kats?" Eijirou flashed his sharp toothy smile.

Katsuki hummed, growing even more flustered over how cute the redhead looked when he smiled at him like that. Thankfully, you managed to draw the attention away from him long enough for him to hide his fond smile. He couldn't let either of you know just how soft he was for you, yet.

A giggle fell past your lips as you spoke. "Good for you, Eiji. But I'd like to refrain from developing a concussion the day before the exam."

Katsuki’s attention moved back to you, a cocky smirk growing on his face. "I could always kiss the information into you."

Eijirou gasped. "What?! No fair!"

"Both of you, be quiet and focus! Or no kisses at all!”

. . .

That shut them right up.

‣ If you enjoyed this fic, please like, comment, and/or reblog! Doing so not only keeps my blog alive, but also lets me know what you like and how to improve!

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#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku fanfiction #katsuki bakugou fanfiction #eijirou kirishima fanfiction #katsuki bakugou angst #kiribaku angst #katsuki bakugou fluff #kiribaku fluff #my hero academia #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #kalistawrites

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unforgivenntired2 · 5 months ago

Text

My hero academia boys find you crying? (Angst)

Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Kirishima Eijiro, Denki Kaminari

Izuku(Deku)

He would first start panicking trying to figure out what happened to you.

"A-Are you okay?! Oh my god do you need something?? Can I get you something??"

After the mini panic attack he just had, he's going to try to understand what the reason is. If you don't want to tell him? No problem. He'll stay and hug you hard, telling you softly to let the tears fall. That it's okay to cry. "You can talk to me about it, sweetie. I'm always here for you."

Somehow hugging him only makes you sob harder and eventually tell him what was wrong. He'll stay there the whole time, listening intently and running a hand up and down your back. He'll tell you that its fine. That everything's going to be alright. And even if it's not, he'll always be there for you even when there's no one else left.

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo's initial reaction might be gruff or abrasive, but underneath his tough exterior, he does care for those close to him. It's hard for him to express that he's worried.

"Oi brat. Toughen up." He might start with a more of a confident voice, but somehow seeing you cry makes his heart ache so.. so badly.

He might stand there awkwardly for a moment before grumbling, "What's got you bawling like an idiot?" But as you continue to cry, he'll soften slightly, realizing the severity of your emotions. Despite his discomfort, he'll awkwardly offer his arms to invite you to hug him, trying to offer some form of comfort. He'll scoff when you come closer and mumble. "My stupid little idiot."

He'll hold you as if you're made of glass and somehow deep inside he's scared that he'll hurt you somehow. He might not say much, but his presence alone is his way of showing that he cares.

Shoto Todoroki

To be honest, he doesn't know what to do. He just stands there awkwardly for a while until you look up at him. He would quietly approach you with his usual stone face, but behind it, it's filled with worry.

"Are you okay?" His voice would be soft, almost tentative, as he approaches you.

He'd sit beside you quietly, offering a comforting presence until you feel ready to talk. Todoroki might gently place a hand on your shoulder or offer you a tissue without saying much, allowing you the space to open up if you choose to. He won't ask you to open up about what's wrong. If you feel like telling him, you will.

And whilst you tell him, he'll listen silently and sometimes his sheer inattentiveness towards things would make you let out a small laugh. Todoroki doesn't get it but nevertheless he's happy he made you cheer up a bit.

Denki Kaminari

Denki's reaction might be a mix of confusion and concern. He's not always the best at handling serious situations, but he cares deeply for his friends.

"Hey, uh, what's wrong?" He'd approach you with a slightly awkward smile, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Seeing you cry would likely catch him off guard, and he might fumble for words at first. "Um, h-hey, it's gonna be okay, right? You know, whatever it is, we can figure it out together."

Despite his initial uncertainty, Denki would try his best to comfort you. He might crack a few jokes or attempt to lighten the mood with his lighthearted personality, hoping to bring a smile to your face. Some of his failed attempts at it would make you giggle through the sobs.

Denki would listen attentively to whatever you have to say. He might offer words of encouragement, assuring you that he's there to support you no matter what.

Throughout the interaction, Denki's genuine concern for your well-being would shine through, even if he's not always the most eloquent or composed in expressing it. He'd stay by your side, offering comfort and companionship until you feel better.

Kirishima Eijiro

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice would be soft, but filled with genuine concern as he approaches you.

He'd sit down beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder or offering you a reassuring smile. Kirishima's presence alone would feel grounding, as if you're not facing whatever troubles you alone.

"Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. I'm here for you," he'd say earnestly, his eyes reflecting his sincerity.

If you choose to confide in him, Kirishima would listen intently, nodding along and offering words of support. He'd validate your feelings, letting you know that it's okay to feel the way you do.

"You're really manly for opening up about this," he'd say, his voice filled with admiration. "But remember, you don't have to go through this alone. I'll always have your back." Kirishima would stand up and flex his muscles as if to show you his manliness making you chuckle.

"And anyways if anything happens to you, I'll always be there to save you my princess."

Throughout the conversation, Kirishima's unwavering support and positivity would be a source of comfort, helping to lift your spirits and ease your burden. He'd stay by your side, offering encouragement and solidarity until you feel better.

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reallyromealone · 6 months ago

Note

How about part 4 to bakugos brother. The plot has thicken. 🙃🫰🏼

Title: bakugos brother

Fandom: bnha

Characters: bnha ensemble

Fic type: series

Chapter: 4

Pairings: kirishima x male reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, angst, reader is awkward, broken sibling relationship, reader is siblings to Katsuki, hurt to comfort, neglectful parents

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Name) And Kirishima went upstairs as Aizawa sat in the livingroom with the Bakugo parents, (name) looking surprisingly nervous as he went to his room.

"Whatever he did we will pay for" Mrs. Bakugo started and Aizawa raised his hand to stop her "I'm actually here on behalf of U.A to extend an invitation for your son to attend the general studies program as we have recently opened a spot in that class post sports festival" Aizawa began and watched their reactions carefully, Mr. Bakugo seemed curious and a bit excited at the concept of his son having the experience but Mrs Bakugo seemed... Less thrilled "would that affect Katsuki?" She asked simply and Aizawa raised an eyebrow at her statement.

"The two would be in completely different programs, how on earth would that affect Katsuki?" Mr Bakugo said simply and the blond woman glared without any bite at her husband "Principal Nedzu is particularly interested in his intelligence quirk and would like to talk about it when we do the transfer if you are willing to agree"

And the color drained from their faces.

(Name) And Kirishima cuddled on (name)s beanbag chair, a massive thing that was (name)s first purchase as (name) watched kirishima play a phone game "so you're just building and adventuring?" (Name) Seemed intrigued but also deeply confused at the game "yeah, it's a sandbox game-- you can do basically anything"

"Are there animals?"

"Oh a bunch, they actually just updated the dogs so they have more variety"

"Show me"

"And how would he be able to afford it?" Mrs Bakugo said coldly and Aizawa resisted the urge to roll his eyes "U.A has offered (name) a full scholarship" Mr Bakugo seemed excited at this "really?!" The man seemed over the moon at this but his wife less thrilled "I told you to let him apply!" He said almost angrily and Aizawa looked between them "but the chances of katsu--"" you need one parents approval right?" He cut her off to look at Aizawa who nodded "then you have my approval"

"Masaru!" Mrs Bakugo said angrily and the man looked at her seriously "if we don't do this for our son, we will fail more than we already have"

"Kirishima, time to go" Aizawa said simply and looked at (name) "I expect to see you at U.A Monday with your things packed" the pro said and it took the teens a second to process it all before kirishima grinned at his boyfriend "Yo! We get to hang out all the time now!"

"I get to go?"

"Yup, now better pack, you got a week before you start, Nedzu wants a meeting first thing tomorrow"

"YOU GUYS ARENT GONNA BELEIVE THIS!" Kirishima shouted as he walked into the livingroom area and the others looked confused "my boyfriend got into U.A!" He boasted and Bakugo turned to look at his best friend confused "what." Bakugo said flatly and Kirishima grinned "yeah man! Your brother's gonna be in gen Ed!" Everyone looked at bakugos reaction curiously as many emotions passed his face before just grunting and turning back to his phone.

(Name)s week at home was tense with his mom but his dad always had his back, always making sure he was cared for and the parent who made an effort, he was (name)s rock.

"Just don't get in your brother's way"

Words he heard constantly up until his dad drove him to U.A, giving him an envelope with money "I'll be sending you weekly allowances... I know you have money of your own but that's your money, this is for any emergency things you need" he said softly and (name) took the envelope quietly "I'm sorry that I haven't been enough for you, I know I could do more"

"Mom's a hard person, I know you feel guilt but I know that she doesn't make it easy and you have been there when it counts and stuck up for me so I could be here... I love you dad"

"I love you too kid, now go be stronger than I am"

The two embraced before the man helped (name) get everything into his dorm, kirishima showing up to help "so you're the boy my son's seeing! A pleasure to meet you" (name) smiled as the two greeted and got along very well "yeah! I'm also bakubros best friend!" He said excitedly and Mr. Bakugo had a small sliver of hope that this young man could bridge the two siblings... It was wishful thinking but he always had hope.

Hope that somehow the relationship his wife ruined would be fixed.

(Name) Didn't sleep well the first night, awkward in the new environment and the sudden shift from what he was used to.

Tomorrow he would get an introduction course under Nedzu, the rat wanted to do some tests to truly know what level he was at to gauge where they should move towards education wise.

Things were awkward during lunch as (name) sat alone, everyone hearing about Nedzu's private student and avoided him as such but (name) just played chess on his little travel chess set in the corner, periodically eating his food.

He had an hour to kill, might as well look for any weaknesses in his plays.

"There you are!" (Name) Looked up to see his boyfriend and other 1A students who looked curiously "Aizawa said we got to have lunch at the same time!" The Bakugo siblings locked eyes and (name) offered a seat to his boyfriend who plopped beside him with a grin "so you play chess, what's that like?" The pink girl named Mina asked excitedly and (name) was shy as he responded "a lot of travelling, I been throughout Japan for openings" he said softly "how many have you won?" A blond boy named denki asked and (name) looked a little more confident "I haven't lost, so maybe 50, I have been playing professionally since I was 9"

"Whoa... What do you get if you win?" He asked and (name) thought "the U.A open won me about 100k... But that was the open to let me qualify to international opens but my dad worries I might be too young for that" he said simply and the others looked shocked at the price and did the math "damn you're rich"

Katsuki didn't know this, how many games his brother went to between school and such or how good he was at it, he didn't think about it much but now...

... He kind of felt envious that his best friend knew more about his brother than he did.

The bakusquad asked all sorts of questions throughout lunch and eventually a few more 1A students joined and Momo even planned a chess match between her and (name) for fun.

And for the first time, Katsuki saw his brother look genuinely happy talking to people, typically he didn't talk to people.

It was nice to see.

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #kirishima x male reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #male reader #x male reader #angst #anime x male reader #anime x reader

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frickingnerd · 4 months ago

Text

bakugou catching his crush making out with kirishima

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x eijirou kirishima

tags: angst, feelings of betrayal (bakugou), implied kirishima & reader relationship, bakugou waited too long to confess, reader is katsuki's first friend & true love, hurt!bakugou

it wasn't supposed to be like this!

katsuki had been crushing on you for almost a year now. since the start of ua, since that at USJ, where he got split up with you and kirishima. since then he had been in love with you

you were fighting so hard to protect him and kirishima, even when you were far weaker than them. and he admired that! you were stubborn in the best way possible. and katsuki wanted nothing more than to protect you!

you were katsuki's first real friend. you were the one who introduced him to kirishima and then later on denki, sero and mina. you were the one helping him make friends in class 1A

without you, he would probably still be bitter and alone. but now he had so many friends. he was inseparable from kirishima, who had quickly become his best friend

and yet kirishima was the one who betrayed him. the one whose arms you were wrapped in right now and whose lips were on yours.

katsuki stood in the door, still holding onto the knob of your dorm room's door. and he couldn't believe his eyes. the girl he loved and his best friend were kissing!

not just a small peck on the lips. you were so close, your bodies pressed against each other as you smiled into the kiss. there was no way this was your first kiss! how long has this been going on? were you and kirishima…?

no! no, he couldn't even think of that without getting angry. it wasn't supposed to be like this! he wanted to confess to you today. he had even asked kirishima for advice about talking to the girl he likes. it was his idea to bring her flowers!

and now here he stood, one hand holding the flowers behind his back, one hand on the door knob and his eyes laying on you and him. his best friend and the girl he loved. and it dawned on him that he had waited too long to confess to you. someone else had done it before him. he had wasted his chance…

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xotoru · 13 days ago

Text

*ೃ༄ Nsfw Headcannons

Wc:574

Warnings:smut, hair pulling, overstim, choking and head pushing mentioned, high sex, descriptions of male genitalia, afab reader, this is just really freaky...

Synopsis:How I think they would be in bed>.<

𝘐𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶.𝘔◡̈

with him you can really get anythig

if he's on top then you better believe hes gonna go all the way

you won't be walking right for at least a day

he gets so into it that he forgets about himself and solely focuses on pleasuring you

on the other hand, if your on top he just becomes a big whiny mess

like straight up moonx

his mind goes blank and his only though is you above him and how your justing using him to pleasure yourself

he's probably like 5-6 inches, a bit on the thicker side, uncut, well shaven

𝘒𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘪.𝘉☠︎︎

he's roughhhh

with how he acts the regular i'm sure its not a surprise that he's rough and into degrading and things along those lines

total freak in the sheets though

"such a slut for me" "take it...fuck- take it I know you can..."

gets a bit choked up when he cums but tries his best to hide it

hair puller, choker, head pusher and overstimulator I fear

loves loves lovesss face fucking

hes like 7-7.5, definetily girthy, cut, shaves occasionally'

𝘋𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘪.𝘒˘͈ᵕ˘͈

this man is a straight up freakkkkk

whenever you wear anything revealing he's like a straight up hound dog

you best believe your not gonna be walking for some time after that night

if you overstimulate him too much he goes dumb and his only thought is you basically

unfortunately rlly bad at dirty talk

you sometimes just tell him to stop talking cause it turns you off...

big blow job guy; he's lazy

he's a good 6 inches, more length then girth, uncut, doesn't like shaving cause he's scared he'll cut himself :'(

𝘌𝘪𝘫𝘪𝘳𝘰.𝘒 ♞

he's really gentle cause he's scared to hurt you

sweet kisses while you gently bounce up and down on his aching cock

then when you get tired he lets you lay onto of him as he slowly thrusts up in to your sloppy pussy

hes so careful and sensual with it

is focused on having the moment last and just being there with you more then his own pleasure

wants nothing more then to make you feel satisfied

he's like the praise king!!!

he's fairly average, like 6-6.5, uncut, shaves if you want him too but besides that he really doesn't

𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢.𝘚♣

he's a little horny boi

any chance he GETS he wants to fuck

really fast and coordinated but not really rough

isn’t afraid to moan or whimper

boob man 100%, gets really grabby whenever he’s high

speaking of that, he loves fucking while high, like more then when he’s sober

sends you videos of him jerking off randomly

ass slapper all the way

fairly big actually, like 7.5, cut, shaves cause he doesn’t like how it feels

𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰.𝘛☾

He absolutely loves I missed you sex

After long missions or business trips the first thing he wants to do when he gets home is bury himself inside your sopping pussy and paint it white

He’s a silent freak

Wont say anything about it but if you want he’ll fuck wherever whenever

When you ride him he feels like he’s on a whole different planet

Prefers positions where he can hold you close to him

Buys you different sets of lingerie and what not whenever he goes out

Also pretty big, just about 8 inches, shaven cause he finds body hair on himself gross

#anime #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #manga #mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #denki kaminari #hanta sero #kirishima eijirou #shoto todoroki

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jisokai · 1 month ago

Text

Green Curse

Your friends care about you, much more than you think. Unfortunately it takes the worst possible first time trying weed for you to realize it.

kirishima eijirou & sero hanta x GN reader [implied first/second years] drug use (edibles), reader is anxious and an overthinker, descriptions of dissociation, slight suicidal ideation, touch-starved reader, implied smaller reader, lots of hurt and lots of comfort 10.9k words | oneshot, complete, can be standalone part 3 of a sort-of-series: "healing my inner teenager" (this fic's reader is NOT compatible with reader in the universe of [part 1] and [part 2])

notes: I feel like a lot of fics with substances never touch on these kinds of experiences (& if they do it's for humor instead of processing) so this one's for ME & anyone else with arguably traumatic first times smoking/taking edibles 👍

ao3 option

Kaminari’s room is boisterous as your friends settle on his bed to cozy up for the evening. You sit quietly on his carpet, back pressed against the mattress behind you. Your fingers brush through the soft fibers, tracing its dark pattern as you listen in to the various conversations around you—Mina and Kirishima curiously taking guesses at how it’ll feel to get high, Bakugou grumbling about being the babysitter, Sero and Jirou arguing over what movie they want to watch. You don’t make an effort to engage, even when you feel an opening, instead flitting your eyes between the different spots where people have congregated. You notice that nobody tries to pull you in.

It’s a delicate dance for you, being in this group. They welcome you easily, always happy to have you around, but you aren’t sure why. You don’t talk much, not unless asked, and even then you instantly regret answering—assuming you said too much or the wrong thing. Sometimes Kaminari finds an opening for a joke in your response, and the laughs that course through the others make you feel very, very small.

You confided in Kirishima once, during internship patrols—likely the reason you started getting invites in the first place. His bright attitude brings you ease, knowing he only thinks well of others, and his encouraging personality is a relief to the delicate glass of your self-esteem. You hadn’t meant for it, but the conversation somehow found you unfurling your insecurities. He looked at you sadly when you explained how the larger friend group puts you on edge, makes you hyper aware of yourself and your shortcomings. You’ve spent the past few weeks carefully skirting around him and the topic, incapable of handling more pitiful gazes.

You ignore him now, too, as you feel his eyes from where he’s seated with Mina on the bed. You focus your attention on Kaminari's shelves, observing the collections of hats and shoes. It’s a tacky space, you think, but the array of jarring colors and patterns make sense somehow.

You are jolted from your thoughts when said tacky host appears in front of you. He’s crouched with half a brownie in his hand, outstretched to you.

“Want first bite?” he asks. You nod and thank him quietly as you pinch the sides of the dessert, avoiding the brush of fingers. He continues. “It’s only half, since it’s your first time. You can have some more later if you don’t feel anything.”

He stands to offer brownies to those on the bed. You sniff yours carefully and notice that it’s unassuming, even when you take a bite and slowly chew.

“How’s it taste?” Mina asks from above you. You crane your neck to see where she sits beside Kirishima, who’s tearing a brownie in half for them to share.

You cover your mouth as you speak, feeling the gooeyness cling to your teeth. The chocolate is dark and there are chunks of fudge, a favorite of yours. “Normal. Good.”

Mina grins excitedly in response and eats her half in one go, straight from Kirishima’s hand. She hums in agreement. “Ooooh, they’re delicious!”

Kaminari nods proudly. “I only source the best, y’know!”

You finish your half shortly and glance towards the others. You hear Sero ask about the dosage and strain, and watch as he and Jirou both eat a whole brownie, then split an additional one. Kaminari downs one happily and removes another before closing the bag. You wonder if this is routine for them, and suddenly you are too aware of your inexperience. A course of shame rolls from your stomach to your shoulders, a choppy ocean wave. Once again you feel small—a speck of dust on the carpet. You think it’s silly, to be ashamed for not indulging in substances, but these are your cool friends that you don’t want to be lame around, at least not more than you already are.

You want to curl into yourself, a ball of arms around legs, but a tap on your head shakes you from your spiral. It’s Mina, pouting from above.

“Whatcha still doing down there?” She asks. You see the others piled on Kaminari’s bed—all but the blond himself, grabbing a deck of cards from the shelf.

“Sitting,” you say blankly.

She rolls her eyes and gives your shirt a tug, then pats the space next to her. “Sit here!” she instructs. Kirishima nods in your peripheral.

So you stand, just enough to get your hands and knees on the bed, and crawl next to her by the headboard. You avoid touching the pillows, and pull your knees tightly into your chest. Kaminari follows, plopping next to you. He’s cross-legged, knee bumping into your calf, and you tense at the contact. He doesn’t notice, busy shuffling the cards. Some of the others move, adjusting to make an evenly spaced circle of people. Mina shifts away from you and you scoot in the same direction, giving Kaminari additional room.

The game passes energetically, with loud reactions as some of your friends target one another. You’re not very competitive, but strategizing helps you focus on something other than your discomfort.

After a few rounds, Sero checks in. “How are you all feeling? It’s been about a half hour.”

Mina grins lazily beside you. “M’definitely feeling something.”

She turns to you and you shake your head. You feel normal. Or, your normal.

Kaminari hmph’s and looks to Kirishima. “What about you man?”

The redhead scratches his head and purses his lips. “Maybe?”

Kaminari hops off the bed and reaches for the bag on his desk. He pulls out another brownie and tears it in half. You take the one he hands you, slightly smaller than the other. You glance at Sero and Jirou while you chew, trying to decipher if either of them are affected. Jirou notices your stare and shakes her head.

“Takes me a while to feel it,” she explains. “But I’ll be faded in a couple hours. Sero’s the opposite.” You note his already red-tinted eyes.

“Skill issue,” he says. Kaminari nods solemnly.

Jirou rolls her eyes. “That doesn't even make sense.”

You look away, chest heavy as their banter draws on. You wish you were close like that, with any of them. They’re familiar and comfortable in each other’s space. You may have catalyzed a potential closeness with Kirishima, when you unpromptedly spilled out your insecurities regarding his friends. But all that resulted in was a weird tension that hangs between you two—one entirely due to your own embarrassment. What is wrong with you?

You accidentally look his way and see the slightest crease of his brow, his eyes trained on you. You glance past him and to Mina, then the cards sprawled in the middle of the bed.

“Let’s just watch the movie,” you hear Sero say. “It’ll definitely kick in after a couple hours.”

A wave of hums passes through the air as everyone agrees. Kaminari stands to turn on his desktop while Sero moves to switch off the lights. The room darkens save for the glow of the computer, Kaminari searching for the movie in question. The others shift, getting comfortable for the hours to come. You turn so your back rests against the wall, and Mina presses into your side as the others scoot up to see the monitor better. You try to relax into the touch, but it’s foreign, her arm warm against yours.

Suddenly Sero is crawling up from the foot of the bed and grabbing one of the pillows by your side. He then sets it in front of you and lays on his side. Mina brings her knees over his torso while Bakugou grunts and nudges his legs aside for space. You pull yours close against you, body tense to avoid brushing against his hair. Kaminari huffs when he turns and sees the arrangement. He starts the movie and grabs a few snacks before nestling in the space between you and the headboard, legs outstretched by the top of Sero’s head. He opens one bag and tosses the others blindly to the others. He is squished up against you and gently taps your forearm, gesturing to his bag of chocolate-covered pretzels. You mumble, “thanks,” and take a small handful.

The movie is good. It’s not the kind you would volunteer to watch, but it gives you something to focus on and keep the attention of the others away from you. At the halfway mark you notice a cloudiness settling into your mind and body. Your legs strain from the prolonged effort to hold them close, joints and muscles prickling beneath your skin. With a nervous heart you shuffle your feet forward, just before Sero’s head, and feel the slightest relief. You try to wiggle backwards, for additional room, but you’re already pressed against the wall.

Mina notices and frowns in confusion. You don’t realize you’re sporting a pained expression, and hers morphs into concern. She whispers, “You okay?”

“Just cramped,” you whisper back. Your eyes widen when she pulls her legs up and gives Sero’s back a shove. He turns to her curiously.

“Stop hogging their space,” she says, and your stomach clenches at the word choice.

You start shaking your head, to protest, when Sero’s eyes move to you. He just says, “oh,” and squirms towards the edge of the bed. “Sorry. This better?”

Your feet slide forwards, letting your thighs and calves relax, and you nod with a quiet, “thanks.” Sero hums and turns back to the screen, unbothered. Your shoulders drop in relief.

The movie draws on, but by the end you feel like it just started. It isn’t until Mina stirs next to you that you realize you’re leaning against her, and it isn’t until you right yourself that you realize your inebriation. Your body feels like it’s moving through deep, sticky honey as you sit up straight, and your head is unbelievably heavy. It tilts to the side as if in danger of falling. You pull it back, overcompensating, and it thuds loudly against the wall. A thrum of pain reverberates behind you and your vision floods with white static.

Your cheeks flush as you try to blink your sight back to normal. Kaminari giggles beside you, deepening your blush.

“You good?” he asks, voice filled with mirth.

You nod slowly, head unsteady on your neck. Your eyes rest halfway open and you swallow before grimacing. You smack your lips at the dryness of your mouth.

Kaminari giggles again and moves towards the desk. “Cottonmouth?”

You’ve never heard the phrase, but you nod. He hands you your water bottle from the desk and then grabs his computer mouse, clicking rapidly. The screen flashes white and you watch as you slowly unscrew the lid of your water. The fluorescence fills your vision sharply, similar to when you smacked your head moments ago, and it makes your perception of the room feel warped—flattened. You blink rapidly as you try to recover a sense of normalcy, but it causes your peripheral to spin.

You tear your eyes from the screen and look at the bottle in your lap. Your grip on the lid is weak, and when you try to squeeze harder your hand tingles—almost tickles. Almost painful. You work gently, using the friction of your palm instead. It comes off eventually, but then you are struck by the new set of obstacles that come with bringing it to your lips and drinking.

Luckily the others are preoccupied with their conversations, drifting softly behind you as if in another room. You wonder if time is passing as slowly for them as it is for you, if they’re similarly encased in molasses. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you assume it’s movie commentary. You can hardly remember what you just watched, the contents years away in your memory. What happened in the meantime? Where have all those minutes run off to?

Once you manage a few sips—with thankfully minimal spillage on your shirt—you set the bottle down and take deep breaths as you put the cap back on. It brings attention to your racing heart, thumping wildly. You think it might explode, which only quickens it further. Your solution is to curl into where Kaminari sat moments ago. You close your eyes and try to convince your body to relax. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.

You don’t know how long you lay there, attempting to control your heart and breath. You conjure images of the ocean, of the wind—sturdy beings that breathe slowly, regularly. You try to imagine the galloping horse of your heart to soften to a trot, then eventually a delicate walk through a meadow.

A gentle hand lands on your arm, causing you to stir with panic. Your body is tense as you spot Kirishima, large and red, standing by your end of the bed. His arm is outstretched but pulling back, and his face is full of concern—eyebrows creased upwards and lip jutting in a pout.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks softly.

You clutch the water bottle against your chest tighter, noticing that you’ve been cradling it in your fetal position. You aren’t okay, you realize. But this is Kirishima, the one you accidentally shared your embarrassingly low self-esteem with. He looked at you so pitifully for it, you can’t handle whatever reaction he’ll have if you say you think you’re dying.

So you nod, slowly, eyes still wide.

His eyes pinch and his lips press into a tight line. He looks pained. But he nods slowly in return before glancing at the others. You watch, the seconds passing dreadfully. You think you can see the way his movements smear across your vision, his afterimages in the bluelight.

In an attempt to give credibility to your act, you decide to sit up, to at least pretend you’re part of the conversation. You press up weakly and a wave of nausea rolls up from your belly. You panic at the sensation and take a shaky breath, as quietly as you can. Kiri’s eyes follow you, coating your skin uncomfortably.

You try to conjure your most unbothered expression as you mumble, “Just tired.” You catch the gaze of the others, but no one is scrutinizing you the way your red haired friend is. You summon all your willpower to appear attentive and normal.

You take note of them as best you can. Kaminari and Sero appear unfazed, as if they never got high in the first place. Mina’s words come out slowly and drawn out, with small bursts of giggles in between, and her cheeks are nearly red. Jirou sleeps deeply at the end of the bed. Bakugou looks annoyed—you internalize as perhaps specifically annoyed with you—and he’s the next one to speak.

“If everyone’s fine I’m fuckin’ goin’ to bed.” You don’t catch the next part, but it has more colorful language and the mention of babysitting teenagers.

Kaminari giggles while he watches the blond roughly shove his things in his pockets. Just before he slams the door, Kaminari teases, “I know you had fun with us!”

Mina laughs, soft chuckles from Sero and Kirishima follow. The five of you are huddled in a misshapen circle, not unlike the arrangement before the movie. After the giggles die down, Kaminari’s eyes sweep over you and your friends, assessing their conditions.

“I’m glad it’s kicked in. Does anyone have anything they wanna do next?” He asks.

You scan the faces around you, all holding the same indifferent expressions—shrugging or pursing their lips in thought. Kaminari appears shy, and you give him a curious look.

He smiles sheepishly and pulls his shoulders to his ears. “Shinsou messaged me,” he says. “I was thinking of heading over to his, but I don’t wanna ditch.”

Mina laughs and then hums in amusement. A light blush blooms over the blond’s face. “I am fully supportive of you ditching to be with your lover boy, personally,” she says with a dramatic sigh. The other two nod enthusiastically, and you give him a little shrug.

His face lights up at the response and he giddily stands from the bed. “Shit, okay yeah.” He rummages for his things. “Thanks guys, you can still hang here or whatever—”

The rest is a smear in your memory, the strength of your focus exhausted after a few minutes. You let your eyes cloud and your body accept its heaviness as you drone out the rest of Kaminari’s words. When he leaves you mumble a ‘bye’—or maybe it was ‘good luck’—but let your mind remain hazy.

You don’t know how much time passes, how to gauge it. Your three conscious friends continue to chat softly about benign topics, and you can only muster an occasional hum or slight tweak of your face in reaction. You don’t notice when their eyes watch you closely, instead convinced of your own invisibility, from your inability to push yourself to say something. You’re certainly high right now, and it would be fatal to say something stupid, something for them to laugh at while you forget it in the morning. It’s safer here, curled over yourself, knees and shins protecting your delicate heart.

At some point you notice you are no longer inside your body. When you glance down to your knees, you find you’re instead looking at the top of your head. You see yourself, your smallness, surrounded by your friends happily enjoying themselves. You panic, mind and body frozen at the sight. A coldness seeps into your skin, but the chill is distant. You can see how your friends are thoroughly engaged without you.

A heavy weight settles in your stomach—though your stomach is an abstract idea at this point—at the realization that your presence makes no difference. You are invisible, more so than Hagakure, with your timid personality. You swallow, feeling a heavy lump in the base of your throat—another abstract idea. You watch closely, take note of everyone’s eyes as they jump back and forth between one another and chat exuberantly. They giggle, stick their tongues out, roll their eyes. At each other, not you.

What are you doing here?

Maybe you should leave, leave and never come back. How did you get invited in the first place? Do these people actually like you, or do they feel bad watching you isolate yourself from the class? Your abstract stomach churns with a swirling mix of rage and shame.

You sit and watch, continue to scrutinize. You don’t say a word. You let yourself drift away.

After what could be minutes or hours—either a reasonable estimate to your brain—you feel the urge to use the bathroom. The task is mountainous, an entire excursion requiring careful planning and meticulous execution, but one that has to be done. It also offers a reprieve from your social dilemma. That serves as motivation enough to shift yourself to the edge of the bed and stand.

A wave of dizziness rushes through you. You watch, still as an outsider, as your body nearly topples over. Your hand reaches the desk in time to steady yourself, hyper aware of the eyes in the room. You play off your stumble casually, and lift your hand from the crutch prematurely.

“Bathroom,” you mumble and quickly exit the room.

The dorm hall is another beast. As soon as you turn from the door to the open space, you are confronted by your inability to process dimension. The hall is stretched into what appears to be an entire day’s journey. It makes your heart race again, anxious at the prospect of finding your way alone. You squint, attempting to count the number of doors you’ll pass, but they’re too small in your hazy vision.

You take a careful step forward, imagining yourself a blind elder fumbling through the forest, and drag your hand along the wall as you trek to the bathroom. The door at the end of the hall gets ever so closer, a small victory. You struggle to regulate your breathing throughout the process.

Using the bathroom is another challenge, one that also happens at a snail’s pace. You sit yourself in the stall for an eternity, leaning with your head against the wall. You close your eyes and take deep breaths. It helps center you, guide your essence back into the void of your body. Your mind is racing, running through muck, but it feels back in your own head.

You try your best to reflect on your dissociation in Kaminari’s room. Maybe it’d be best to distance yourself for a while, give yourself some space. Bakugou said he didn’t like babysitting, and that’s probably how the others feel about you always tagging along quietly. You remember Kirishima’s worried glances, how he always looks like he wants to fuss over you. Your cheeks flare in embarrassment, at being perceived as some helpless child. You recall how Sero and Jirou wordlessly split their edible, a practiced routine. There’s already a flow there, a vibe that you don’t fit into.

You should leave them alone.

Standing up brings another dizzy spell, but the small perimeter of the stall offers support. You fumble with your pants and flush the toilet before exhaling and exiting. You wash your hands slowly, let the sensation of the water remind you that you’re back in your own body, and then cup some to your lips. The contact tingles, and you’re numb to the way it drips down your chin and shirt. You scoop another handful and splash it over your cheeks.

When you look up, you’re confronted by a face only inches from yours. It takes you a moment to register that you’re looking at yourself. You see your red eyes and ruffled hair, your skin angrily painted red. You realize you’ve been crying the whole time, an unexpected but familiar sight.

Seeing yourself like this, head on but flipped in the view of the mirror, you stare. You watch your own eyebrows furrow as you search deep in your eyes, the way your lips part and exhale. You wonder who you are, if this is really you. Once again you wonder what you’re doing here. Not just in the dorm bathroom, high out of your mind. Not just in this friend group, one that would be better without you. Not even in UA, on the hero course, treading towards a future you aren’t prepared for.

What are you doing here, on earth. Existing.

You watch yourself cry, face pinching tight. Your eyebrows scrunch down and your nose tugs up with your lips. You watch your own eyelids squeeze shut before you sit in blackness, feeling only the distant sensation of salty water rolling down your cheeks.

Your legs give out. Before you know it you are a puddle of fabric and skin, melting to eventually lay on your side. You don’t hear yourself sob, choked noises sputtering on the cool tile. You don’t know how long it takes for your cries to die, but eventually you calm and turn to lay on your back. You soak in the cold ground below you, once again floating above and looking down on yourself.

This is how Sero finds you. He gently knocks on the door before letting himself in, immediately spotting you on your back, taking slow breaths—face flushed and tear-stained, with bloodshot eyes. He blanches at the sight and rushes over. He scans the ground for hints, but it’s clean.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks gently. You look at him blankly. “Did you throw up?” you shake your head. “Did you fall?” you shrug.

He sighs. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head again.

“Let’s get you up then,” he says, and you avert your eyes.

You miss the way his face falls. “Hey, really. Are you okay?” he asks again, still gentle despite his firmness. “You can tell me if you’re having a hard time.”

You don’t feel how your face twists in a grimace. You close your eyes and shake your head gently, slowly. Even when you blink them open again, you won’t look his way.

There’s a moment of quiet before he speaks. “I’m guessing you’re overwhelmed, we probably gave you too much. It’ll pass, okay? You won’t be stuck like this. Why don’t you come back and wait it out with the others? I think you’ll be more comfortable there.”

You look at him this time, sporting that pained expression, and shake your head.

It’s quiet while you watch him think. Eventually he asks, “Do you want to be alone?”

You immediately nod.

Another moment passes, his lips pressed in a thin line. “I don’t really feel comfortable leaving you alone,” he tells you. “But we can just hang out the two of us, okay? And we can do our own thing, not bother each other if you want. But I’m gonna make sure you have company.”

Your eyes glaze with tears and you curl away, facing him with your back.

“Hey,” he tries again. “I know we aren’t that close, but you can trust me, okay? Or I can get Kiri for you instead.”

He hears you exhale loudly and make a grunt of disagreement. He waits, crouched on the floor for you to elaborate. You eventually shift so he can see your face, shooting him a nervous look.

“Alone, please.”

“It’ll just be an hour with us,” Sero presses. “To make sure the peak passes.”

You stare ahead, pensively. “Just you,” you say. A flash of surprise crosses his features. “Just an hour.”

He nods in satisfaction. “Yep, exactly. Now let's get up, yeah?”

The process is far from easy or short, but Sero handles it gracefully. He doesn’t rush you when you say you need another moment, and he’s patient as you adjust to sitting and then standing. His hand hovers over your backside, not making contact, but prepared in case you stumble. You walk slowly down the hall and eventually to the door of Kaminari’s room.

“I’ll grab our stuff and then we’ll go to yours.”

You nod and stay in the hall as Sero steps inside. You hear him huff a laugh and say, “Did she really fall asleep too?”

“They okay?” Kirishima immediately asks, ignoring the question.

“Yeah,” Sero responds calmly. You hear sounds of shuffling. “A little out of it, I think we didn’t wait long enough before the first check in. I’m gonna chill in their room while they come down. Sorry to end things early.”

There’s a muffled grunt. “Are they in their room now? Can I come with?”

Your breath catches from behind the door, heart stirring.

The shuffling pauses. “Uhh…I’m not sure. I don’t wanna make it overwhelming.”

Rustling starts again, a weight lifting from the bed, and your heart thrums when you hear Sero’s voice get closer. “Man, I really wouldn’t push—”

Kirishima is in the doorframe, turning his head and then his body when he sees you. You try to stomp out your nerves at the sight of him and bring your hand up to wave awkwardly.

He visibly deflates, you wonder if in disappointment. “Oh, hey!” he says loudly, then widens his eyes at the volume. “Sorry,” he whispers, “Was hoping to catch you. Sero said you aren’t feeling well? I—”

You don’t hear the rest, eyes locked on his while he speaks. The usual white around his irises has a red tint, but it’s the only noticeable sign that he’s high. He sounds normal, chatting easily. You pout, remembering that you ate the same amount as him earlier. Why are you the only one dying?

Suddenly Kirishima is looking concerned, eyes wide and furrowed like that pitied gaze. As you tune back in you hear: “Shit, I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

You’re crying? You bring a hand to your cheek and pull away shining fingertips. You hear a sob, and then moments later realize it was you. Your vision blurs and you feel the faintest sliding of tears down your face. You bring your hands back up to wipe them away, but they pour faster in response. You see the blur of Kirishima’s panicked face, layered with confliction.

Why are you crying? you berate. Kirishima doesn’t deserve this: your messy, unpredictable spilling of emotions. Your skin heats in embarrassment, reddening with shame. Your hands shake as they continue to brush the tears away. You barely manage to stutter out an apology.

There’s a gentle touch on your arm. It’s warm, comforting, somewhat hesitant. Not meant for you, you think. Your crying continues, unchanged.

Suddenly you are tugged into an embrace of warmth. Your face presses against a soft cotton shirt, balmy and firm from the chest beneath it. Additional heat crawls around your waist and back from strong arms holding you close. You are so shocked from the gesture that your crying pauses, though only for a moment.

Then you cry harder, sobs wracking through the length of your body as you bury your head into the safety of Kirishima’s chest. You can feel him tense, his grip starting to loosen around you. Panic bubbles through you, and before you register your actions you are gripping his shirt—shoving your face further into him. His arms return their hold, tighter this time, and you respond by releasing his shirt to sneak your hands around his waist. When he doesn’t let go, you squeeze harder.

(Sero’s eyes widen from the doorway at the sight. Kirishima shoots him a look that could almost be considered a glare, but Sero shakes his head quickly.)

Suddenly you are hoisted upwards, your arms forcibly pulled from Kirishima’s torso to be replaced with your legs. Your head comes to rest in the crook of his neck and you bury it there, the wetness of your eyes and cheeks sticky against his skin. You’re embarrassed and eager for comfort, enough to disregard your remaining pride. You inhale shakily, lulled by the smell of a typical men’s soap mixed with a tang and the warmth of dust. Your body sways gently as he walks towards the elevator, the rock of a boat on calm water. It pours some stillness into your body. Your teary eyes raise over a large shoulder to see Sero trailing behind, watching with a guilty expression. You shove your head back down at the accidental eye contact.

The journey to your room is long, and you only realize it was the destination when you feel Kirishima sit and lower you onto his thighs—one large hand splayed against your back for stability. When your head is freed from the crease of his neck, you see your decorated wall behind him and the duvet of your bed. You lean back to offer him space, and let your eyes trail over the room. It’s yours, exactly how you left it. Except for Kirishima on your bed and Sero standing by the door, dumping everyone’s belongings on your desk.

When you look back at Kirishima he’s smiling softly, somewhat sheepishly. He speaks in a quiet and low voice. “Do you want me to move?”

It takes a few seconds to understand what he means, that he’s not sure if you’re comfortable in his lap like this. You look down at the tops of his thighs, noticing how he seated you by his knees—far from his hips. When you look back up his face is pink, and you flush at the implications of your staring.

Your answer is no. You want to tell him, but admitting it is impossible. You can’t get yourself to tell him yes, either.

He watches you closely before asking cautiously, “Is it okay if I stay like this?”

You nod easily at the reframing of the question, and he smiles gently. A tap on your shoulder draws your attention behind you, to Sero offering you some water. You take it and chug, only now noticing your thirst.

“Can I sit here too?” Sero asks, pointing to the bed. You nod while drinking.

You toss the bottle to the side when you finish, and meet Kirishima’s eyes tensely. The awkwardness starts to sweep over you, remembering that you’re sitting in his lap in the quiet room, both him and Sero watching you closely. Your mind is still cloudy, your body slow in sticky air. But you’re not alone in the bathroom. You aren’t sure if this is better or worse.

“Pretty hazy, huh?” Sero’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You nod and he hums. “We’ll just hang with you while it passes, okay?”

“‘Kay,” you mumble. You look back to Kirishima and are given more smiles. While guilt still rests heavily in your stomach, you can’t help the feathery tickle of happiness in your chest. It’s selfish, you think, to have them like this—especially after your declaration to yourself in the bathroom—but you can’t get yourself to care. Your face curls into a slight smile, and it makes Kirishima beam.

It’s too much. His joy grabs your stomach in a tight fist and you have to look away. You feel eyes on you, and pull your head down to ignore them.

The hand on your back treads up and down carefully, soothingly. In a moment you are pressed gently into Kirishima’s chest, and you graciously take cover, hiding your face. His other hand glides around your waist and pulls you close. Warmth washes over you, the comfort of morning coals still hot from a night fire. It would relax you completely, if you weren’t on edge from your newfound closeness with your friend.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Kirishima’s voice rumbles through his chest. It reminds you of the distant rolling of a storm. “Anything, okay?”

You can only nod into his shirt, not willing to make eye contact. Your cheek presses against his heart, its beat thumping through your mind. It’s loud, like uncontained joy filling a room. But it’s slow, steady. You lean into it, let it set your rhythm for breathing. You inhale as four pulses pass, then exhale for five.

Time still treads slowly, wading through fog, but you notice you don’t resume your bathroom spiraling. You wonder if the heat of your friendly company is keeping you afloat. You wonder if it’s just postponing the eventual continuation of your drowning. You hear shuffling on your bed, Sero getting comfortable as he takes out his phone. Kirishima diligently rubs your back as he takes even breaths, the deep humming of his lungs pairing calmly with his heart.

Your mind wanders to gentler places, wondering why you deserve such care. Your heart deflates at the thought that it’s from pity—Kirishima’s sad eyes still haunting your memory. You don’t realize that your shoulders have tensed until a large hand trails up to softly coax them to relax. You exhale and let them fall.

It continues like this, Kirishima noticing your every movement, bringing attention to when you become rigid or unstable. He doesn’t say anything, only moves his hands to be a reminder, to your body and how it reacts to your emotions, your overthinking. Only when you feel settled in your skin, cradling the familiar weight of your own bones and flesh, do you realize how detached you were. You hadn’t actually re-entered yourself since you first looked at the top of your own head, only adjusted enough for it to feel normal. You wonder if that’s your default, if you ever feel embodied the way you are now. A long time passes, but it gets more comfortable the longer you sit in your friends hold.

You shift suddenly, from Kirishima adjusting himself. You bring your head up to look at him and he offers you an awkward smile.

“Need to use the bathroom,” he says quietly. A slight pang of disappointment runs through you, but you nod and lean to the side, catching yourself on the bed so he can get up. He stands slowly and gives each leg a moment to stretch. You make a face when his knees pop.

He smiles at you before turning to the door. “I’ll be right back, okay?” You hope he means the hugging, not just being in your room.

You nod as he exits. Your eyes linger on the door, body in a trance, until a dip of the mattress brings your attention to your side. It’s Sero, sitting up. He drops his phone on the bed, eyes focused on you.

“How’re you holding up?”

Your eyes fall to the duvet underneath you, fingers picking at invisible lint. “Better,” you answer.

“Good.” There’s an awkward pause before he continues. “Sorry I didn’t try harder to stop him earlier.”

You frown, brow furrowed in confusion.

He returns the look. “You said just me, in the bathroom,” he reminds you. “I didn’t know you weren’t so comfortable with him. Though I’m kind of glad he came anyway.”

Your frown deepens. “He doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” he says. He looks like he wants to probe further.

“He…” you start, then pause. You look down as you continue, “I just don’t want him to be nice because he feels bad.”

“Wha—” Sero cuts himself off in disbelief. You miss his shocked face as you continue to pick at the blanket cover. “Hey, Kiri might have a strong moral compass, but he’s not your friend out of pity—none of us are.”

Your nose stings as you listen, eyes blinking carefully to prevent tears from spilling over. Your fist clenches the duvet tight enough to send prickles up your arm. A slender hand reaches to cover yours, urging it to relax.

“Hey,” he says gently. “I mean it. And I’m sorry if it hasn’t felt that way.”

Despite all the tears you’ve shed today, you still cry easily—an endless, open stream. You bring your free hand to wipe your eyes, and then attempt to cover your face from the embarrassment. Your chest hurts, heavy as it struggles to take air. You feel the mattress shift and a gentle touch at your back. It runs softly along your spine and you cry harder, releasing a small yelp. You pull the front of your shirt over your head to soak up your sounds and tears, reddening from the noises you don’t mean to release.

Sero keeps his distance, rubbing your back but not guiding you closer. It’s a different sort of comfort than Kirishima’s, a different consideration.

He speaks again once you’ve calmed. “I’m serious, though. I’m sorry if we ever made you feel unwelcome, because that’s definitely not the case.”

You inhale deeply and shrug. “It’s okay.” You sniffle and wince at your voice, its hoarseness. “It’s not your fault.”

“Still, I wish we could’ve made you comfortable enough to bring it up.”

You shake your head, thinking of your accidental confessional with Kirishima, your surprise at your own words and the way you told him to keep it secret, to forget about it, even. “It’s…it’s not just you all,” you try to explain. “I’m like this with everyone.”

He sighs and leans back against the wall. “We should be better about it than everyone else, then,” he says easily.

You huff, trying to brush away the lump in your throat. It comes with more stinging behind your eyes and you will it away, annoyed with your crying. You rub your shirt down your face one final time before dropping it and pouting. When you look at Sero you think he’s holding back a smile.

He looks nervous as he asks, “Can I give you a hug?”

You blink before nodding, moving closer to him by the wall. He leans towards you carefully, slowly, but his lean arms come over your shoulders to hold you close. His skin is cool and nice against your clamminess. He smells crisp and refreshing, unlike Kirishima’s dense warmth.

“Sorry I’m probably not as comfy as Kiri,” he says. You huff a laugh into his chest.

“Still nice,” you mumble into his collarbone. “Comfy in a different way.”

He laughs breathily, giving your back a couple pats before a final squeeze around your shoulders. When you pull away, shuffling to sit beside him, his arm lingers over your shoulders. It keeps you close, to lean into his side.

“This okay?” he asks. You mumble, “yeah,” in response.

The next few minutes pass quietly. You find the silence comforting, not the awkward tension you have with others. Something about him is easy and relaxed, nonchalant where you might normally panic. Even now in your close embrace, he handles it effortlessly.

He breaks the silence abruptly. “I’m also sorry we didn’t catch on sooner,” he says. “At the very least I should’ve known to not let you take so much.”

You pout. “Kirishima had the same as me and he’s okay.”

Sero sighs beside you. “He’s also probably double your weight. You seem similar to Jirou, where it takes a while to feel but it hits pretty hard, huh?”

“I guess,” you mumble. “I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

He hums and lifts his hand from your shoulder to pat your hair. “Well, regardless I’m sorry your first time wasn’t good. If you ever wanna try again we can plan the dosage better. And the environment.”

You roll your eyes and tell him that it’s unnecessary.

“No it’s not,” he says, frowning. “Seriously. I want you to have a good time.” He turns his head to look at you closely. “And…if you wanna talk about what tonight was like, I’d like to hear. Kiri would too, if you’re willing to include him.”

As if on cue, the redhead stumbles through the door. You look up to see his arms full of snacks and a mug in each hand.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says. “I got hungry. And I went to check on the girls but they’re still sleeping.”

“I just assumed you were taking a shit,” Sero says, watching as Kirishima approaches the bed and lifts his arms to let the snacks fall. “And don’t worry about them, Jirou always falls asleep. If Kaminari comes back he'll take care of them.”

You blink in surprise when one mug is offered to you. You take it slowly, inhaling steam and tanginess. “Thanks,” you say. You think you’d cry again if you weren’t so tired of it.

Kirishima beams in response, settling himself in front of you. He crosses his legs, a knee brushing over yours. You’re suddenly embarrassed by Sero’s arm around you, and you wonder if your red haired friend is upset. Then you realize he’s probably happy to be relieved from holding you.

“You didn’t get me one?” Sero pouts.

“Don’t worry, I put mine in a bigger mug so you can have some too,” Kirishima responds, extending his arm for Sero to have a sip.

You bring your cup to your lips, a mix of citrus and floral and sweet coating your tongue. “It’s good.”

“Chamomile and lemon,” Kirishima explains. “With some honey.”

You take a couple more sips, letting warmth soothe your throat and flood your chest. You look up from your mug to meet twinkling red eyes. You wonder why he looks so happy.

“Any updates?” he asks. “It seemed like I interrupted some chatting.”

You shrug. “Just that I’m feeling better.”

The redhead smiles excitedly. “That’s great to hear! Are you feeling normal?”

You purse your lips as you ponder. “My body feels a lot more normal,” you say vaguely. “But my heart is still racing. And my head’s hazy.” You also still feel anxious—more than usual—but you don’t mention it in case they probe further.

“That’s good.” Sero hums, and you see Kirishima’s eyebrows raise, like he wants to ask more. He glances towards Sero, unfolding a silent conversation, and you look away when you recognize it.

Before you can curl in on your own insecurity, Sero says, “It’s common to get anxious the first time you use. Did you feel like you were dying?”

You begin to shake your head, but pause. Your face scrunches in thought as you say, “After the movie. But then it was more that I was outside of my body and I couldn’t get back into it.”

Kirishima frowns and you think you can see the gears turning, metal churning in his mind. Sero speaks before it amounts to anything: “Maybe we can debrief more in the morning, when you’ve had some distance. Especially if you’re still foggy.”

You nod immediately, a wave of relief rolling through you. Kirishima’s shoulders drop, but he nods in understanding.

The night carries on with ease. Despite the bulk of the high having passed, the boys hang around and you don’t ask them to leave. The three of you end up squeezed under the covers, quietly munching on snacks while watching a show. You fall asleep after a few episodes, and your friends speak softly as they watch your steady breathing.

“Did I miss something?” Kirishima asks, tucked between you and the wall.

Sero shakes his head, laying on your other side by the edge of the bed. “Not much. I mostly just apologized for not noticing sooner. And for not being smarter about the dosage.”

The redhead frowns. “They cried again, though,” he says, remembering fresh smears of red around your eyes.

Sero blinks in realization. “Oh, right. Yeah.” Kirishima deadpans, unamused. Sero recalls what he can, when you said you didn’t want them to be nice because they felt bad. The redhead’s frown tugs further as he listens.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Maybe I’ve been too pushy. They told me recently that they can have trouble with friend groups…I was trying to be more observant and include them when we’re all together but—maybe that’s not what they want.” His chest pangs at the thought that he could be making it harder for you.

Sero reads his friend easily, deciding to keep the bathroom conversation to himself. Instead he says, “I think they’re comfortable around you, just embarrassed. About sharing that kind of stuff.”

Kirishima looks at you, your sleeping form breathing beside him. You look uncertain even in your dreams, a slight crease burrowed between your brows. He sighs and lays back, eyes drifting to the ceiling. His heart clenches the way it normally does in your presence, this time with an additional pang of guilt.

“It’s not your fault,” Sero says. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

The redhead closes his eyes and nods slowly. He lets out a breath before smiling and saying, “Yeah. Thanks, man.”

They shuffle themselves out of the bed carefully, Kirishima awkwardly crawling over you to avoid shifting the mattress. He releases a breath when he stands and you lay unbothered, still deep in dreamspace. He turns to Sero and they nod in unison, leaving quietly to ready for bed.

Waking is painful, your eyelids sticky against you. At first you try to fall back asleep, the effort of opening your eyes too grand. But the bathroom calls, and soon you are peeling them open—right first, then the left. You blink rapidly to grease them, taking in the lightness of the room. While your mind is still somewhat hazy, you recall everything in an instant. The anxiety lingers, carved distantly in your chest, but you feel grounded in your body.

You turn your head, remembering falling asleep between your friends, but they’re nowhere in sight. Disappointment makes that hollowness feel deeper, and you mentally chide yourself for being delusional. You huff and will yourself to sit, swinging your legs over the bed to head to the bathroom. You almost yelp when you look at the floor.

Kirishima and Sero are occupying the ground, the redhead’s limbs sprawled around him like a seastar, and the other laying as straight as a corpse. You watch the latter’s chest for several seconds to confirm he’s breathing. Then you tiptoe carefully, swiping your toiletries from your desk and delicately leaping to the other side of the room. You exit quietly, leaving a sliver of space between the door and the frame. Once in the hall you sprint to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall.

You scowl. Minutes ago you were disappointed that your friends didn’t spend the night in your room, and then the moment you realized they did, you ran away.

Your time in the bathroom is primarily spent scrutinizing the events that unfolded the night before. You cringe as you count how many times you cried, your continuous blubbering to Sero. Postponing the “debrief” felt good at the time, but having this conversation sober feels immensely mortifying compared to admitting to these things while high. You could be playing off your words as a bad experience right now, and then returning to your grand plan of isolation.

It makes your heart feel funny to think that’s why Sero suggested it.

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you stand idly by the sink. You take your sweet time returning to your room, and even then you can’t bring yourself to the door. You stop a few paces away when you hear murmuring inside. You contemplate booking it downstairs and saying you needed fresh air.

The squeak of the hinges seizes your options, and suddenly you are staring at a freshly-woken Kirishima. He rubs his eye with his knuckle and you watch as he brightens when he sees you.

“Hey!” he says. “We were wondering where you went.”

You freeze in place, feet cemented to the ground. Your fist clenches around your bag as you force a pained smile. “Bathroom.”

Kirishima’s face softens, eyes widening slightly. “You okay?”

You nod by default.

His eyes trace over your features, drifting along your brow and lips. When he speaks again, it’s much softer. “It’s just us.”

You blink, inhaling sharply. He extends a hand out to you, eyes wide and light. You stare at it, hand immediately lifting towards it before you stop yourself. He takes the pause in stride, still waiting, for when you eventually step forward and touch your fingertips against his palm.

He smiles at the contact and curls his hand around yours, layered petals of a rose. He’s warm and soft, and lets himself hold it carefully for a moment.

“Thanks,” he says before gently tugging you back inside the room. Your heart skips.

You almost laugh at the sight of Sero, on his knees and sleepily folding the blankets on the floor. His hair is matted in some spots while frizzy in others, and he looks incredibly tired.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles sleepily.

You return the greeting while Kirishima guides you through your room. When he reaches your bed, he asks to sit.

“You seem excited,” you blurt as you lower yourself next to him.

“I’m always excited to talk to you.”

You flush at the admission and dart your eyes to Sero. You feel betrayed by his lack of reaction, still folding the blankets.

“Okay…” you trail off, unsure how to respond.

Kirishima takes it easily. “How are you feeling?”

You want to say nervous. Instead you say, “Normal.”

“Good normal?” Sero chimes in.

You’re taken aback by the clarification. “Normal normal,” you say.

The pause that follows is enough time to bring unease into your body. It seeps from your shoulders to your chest, and then collects in your stomach. You frown.

“I’m sorry,” you say when there’s still no response. You ignore their looks of confusion and let yourself blabber. “For making you babysit me. But thanks…I appreciate it, and I think it’s what I needed.”

“Anytime,” Kirishima says immediately. “Don’t apologize, we wanted to. We like hanging out with you.”

Instead of reassuring you, it pulls your face further into a frown. While you know Kirishima to be earnest, he doesn’t usually say these things to you outright. You wonder if he’s trying to be nice, to soften the prickles of your embarrassment.

Your skepticism must show. His face twists in a grimace and he loosens his hold on your hand—an unfurling petal. “Sorry, was that too much?”

You feel like a withered flower yourself, still stomaching your fears but beyond your capacity. It only takes a few shakes for your dried leaves to scatter. You brace yourself as you release them. “It’s just…you don’t have to say stuff like that.”

The air stills at your words. Sero’s folding stops, and you feel Kirishima’s rigidness through his hand. You stare down at it, avoiding the way his eyes track you closely. He says carefully, “But I mean it.”

The words sift right through you, a ghost passing by. You’re so numb to all the bad scenarios in your head, you don’t know how you feel when the opposite occurs. Your response comes out equally unfeeling.

“It’s hard to believe,” you say, the words empty on your tongue. You want to slam your head in the wall for sounding so dramatic.

The hand over yours tightens. A dip on your other side indicates Sero has joined. You remain still, but your heart races beneath your stoicism. A soft pressure grazes your back, Sero’s gentle fingers. It’s distant, a contrast to the vice grip on your hand. But both touches are caring: one offering patience while the other expresses need.

“Can you tell us about last night?” Sero asks quietly.

You try.

The words flow slowly. You pick them carefully, focusing on explaining sensations rather than your emotional journey. You describe how you felt at the end of the movie, the full force of your altered state, how time passed and you drifted further and further from yourself. You vaguely mention your overthinking, overanalyzing every interaction you noticed. You recount staring in the mirror until your legs gave out. You tell Kirishima that he helped guide you back into your own body.

Sero grimaces when you finish and says, “That sounds rough. I really am sorry—for not paying better attention.”

Kirishima nods in agreement while you shrug and say, “It’s okay.”

The three of you chat softly, mostly you answering when they ask for details. Sero looks intrigued, admitting that he hasn’t heard much about dissociation while using, but that it makes sense. His questions are easy—clinical, even. Kirishima asks the harder ones, trying to reign in answers that you’re too embarrassed to give.

“Do you have any guesses for what triggered it?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, attempting to craft a response that doesn’t sound incredibly depressing.

Before you can speak, he asks, “Do you think it has to do with what you told me before? About being with bigger groups of people?”

The aversion of your eyes is enough of an answer. You stare at the rumpled blanket beneath you, busy your free hand by attempting to smooth out a patch of wrinkles. Eventually you nod.

You feel a squeeze around your other hand—the one still in Kirishima’s. You bring your eyes to his cautiously. “Can you tell us?” he asks. “We’re interested in hearing why.”

You swallow as you grimace. You think of words that can soften the edges of your thoughts. You settle on: “I think seeing myself from the outside made me realize that I don’t really contribute to the friend group.”

Their surprised looks make you flush, but you continue carefully when they encourage you. “I just…I don’t know why I get invited to hang out when I hardly ever speak. Hagakure is actually invisible and she’s more noticeable than me.”

Sero looks at you thoughtfully. “Do you like hanging out with us?” he asks.

You nod.

“Do you want to talk and be a bigger part of the conversation?”

You still, not expecting to be asked so directly. The answer sits at the tip of your tongue, but your eyes and nose sting. You swallow and take a few breaths before responding as evenly as you can. “I just…don’t want you all to think I’m lame, or stupid.”

They both shift at that, turning closer towards you. It makes you falter on your spot of the bed, your free hand pressing down for balance. You hear both of your friends start a response, then cut themselves off at the sound of the other’s voice. There’s a moment of silence, an exchange of glances you don’t see, and then finally Kirishima speaks first.

“We would never think that,” he says. “We invite you because we want to get to know you better. We want you to talk openly.”

Sero nods and adds, “I think you’re also forgetting that half of us are idiots. We’re always goofing around and saying stupid shit anyways. Besides, we know you’re smart.”

The huff of laughter that escapes you is genuine, but easily stomped as more insecurities rise within you, the beginning of a boil. You can’t stop now that you’ve started. “It’s hard, when everyone already seems so close,” you say. It reminds you of last night, when Sero said Kaminari was used to dealing with Jirou falling asleep in his room.

Sero hums. “I can understand that being difficult, since we’re closer to each other than you. But Kiri’s right, we wanna get to know you too. If it’s hard as a group, we can always hang out separately. Like now.”

Kirishima adds, “And the others would too.”

Your stomach squeezes at the thought of asking any of them to spend time with you, but you nod regardless and say, “Okay.” They don’t seem convinced.

“Is there anything we can do in the meantime?” Kirishima presses. “To make you feel more included? When we’re all together, I mean.”

You bite your tongue, an obvious answer ready. But it’s hard to say these things openly. Sero notices and says, “Really, anything.”

Your heart is still uneasy, but you shovel through your embarrassment. “I like when people ask me questions. It’s hard to jump into a conversation by myself.”

Kirishima brightens, as if you’ve offered him a gift. “Oh! That makes sense. Aw man, I wish I’d noticed sooner. I always have so many questions about you, but I don’t wanna overwhelm you.”

You blink in surprise at his words, a weight lifting from your chest. You feel excited by the admission, and embarrassed. You think the shift of energy in the room is palpable, much lighter than when you first came back from the bathroom. You smile sheepishly.

“Then can I ask…” he continues, “Last night—Were you okay with the touches? I’m big on hugging, but I probably should’ve been better about asking. That’s my bad. You can always tell me to stop.”

You shake your head easily. “No, it was nice. Like I said earlier, I think it helped.”

The redhead beams, hand tightening over yours. “That’s awesome to hear. I’m always open to it, y’know? I love hugging my friends and cuddling.”

Your cheeks darken at the honesty. You know you won’t ever feel brave enough to ask, but you nod in understanding.

Sero huffs beside you. “We all do,” he says. “Even Bakugou. He’ll complain but he never moves.”

You smile at the comment, though not even a possibility to entertain. You prefer avoiding the blond at all costs.

Kirishima is still smiling at you, with a joy you can’t understand. “Thanks for telling us,” he says softly, rubbing his thumb against your palm. You only find it in yourself to nod, heart quivering at his gentleness.

“Thanks for asking,” you say. You have to tear your eyes away from Kirishima, his smile widening in such earnestness that you can’t let yourself entertain what it might mean. Instead you catch Sero’s easy grin, a calmer space.

Maybe he notices your antsiness, because he looks to Kirishima and says, “Maybe we can chat more at breakfast? I’m getting hungry.”

It’s easy bait for the redhead, immediately biting. “Oh, of course, man. You want me to cook you something? I’ve been wanting to try making an omelet, I heard you can get a ton of protein in the morning that way.”

You have to bite your lip to suppress the giant grin that crawls up your face. Sero catches it as he wears his openly. “Sounds awesome,” he says to Kirishima before looking back at you. “We’ll go take our stuff back to our rooms and then meet you downstairs?”

You nod, sliding off the bed while they gather their blankets and pillows. You open the door as they enter the hall. Sero nudges Kirishima onwards before turning to shoot you a smile. You take the stairs to avoid sharing the elevator.

The common room is surprisingly empty when you enter, despite approaching noon. While you pull eggs from the fridge and whatever other things you think belong in an omelet, Kaminari stumbles through the door. You wave when he spots you.

“Hey!” he says brightly, bouncing over. “How was the rest of your night?”

“Good,” you say simply, tired of talking about it.

His eyes shine when he spots the food on the counter. “Woah, you’re making breakfast?”

You watch his face morph into a pout, a plea. “Kirishima is,” you say. “I’ll tell him to make extra for you.”

He grins. “You’re the best.”

You blink in surprise, watching him pull out his phone and lean against the counter. Not knowing what to say, you ask about his time with Shinsou.

“Hmm? It was good,” he replies, thumb scrolling mindlessly. He brightens and then starts typing before saying, “Oh! He wants to try this cafe tomorrow, apparently they have tons of different chocolate options. You should totally come if you’re free.”

He turns his phone to you, showing an array of desserts. They look good, ones you would seek out on your own. But your brow furrows, wondering why he’d want you to third-wheel his date. “It looks really good,” you say.

“I know!” he exclaims. “You always eat those chocolate covered snack things, this seems like your style.”

You freeze at his words. Your heart lifts in your chest, but you carefully maintain a blank face.

“Anyways, let me know,” he says. He pushes away from the counter and heads toward the elevator. “I’ll be back down in a second!”

You are left alone and stunned in the kitchen. You frown, wondering if Kirishima or Sero set him up after the conversation minutes ago. Why else would he ask you to come along? Especially with him and Shinsou. Was he really that observant? Why would he even notice?

Your mind trails back to your conversation with the boys this morning. We wanna get to know you.

You inhale deeply, puffing your cheeks as you hold your breath. After a few seconds you let it expel slowly. Maybe Kaminari and Shinsou just want to hang out—with you. Maybe they don’t mind that you’re quiet. Your body tingles.

Ten minutes later you are wedged between Sero and Kaminari, the three of you on chopping duty while Kirishima whips eggs on the other side of the counter.

“So, you think you’ll come along?” Kaminari asks while the other two argue over how many peppers to use. You nod, and he brightens. “Awesome! I’ll tell Toshi.”

Your eyebrows raise at the nickname, then at the way the blond licks the remnants of tomato off his fingers to type on his phone.

When the others cast curious glances, you quietly explain. “We’re going to a cafe tomorrow.”

Kirishima immediately blinks, saying, “Wait—” while Sero gasps dramatically. You furrow your eyes in confusion until the latter asks, “Where’s our invite?”

Kaminari snickers. “Toshi says the rest of you are too loud. He wants a peaceful day out.”

Kirishima’s face falls into a pout and you feel bad at your growing smile. For the second time today, you bite down on your lip to suppress it, but Sero notices. He makes a show of his own exaggerated petulance, but then it morphs into another easy grin. You think he looks happy for you.

“Let’s study together today,” you tell Kirishima. At his immediate switch to a joyful smile, you let yours return. You feel yourself beaming like an idiot.

“Oh, let me join!” Kaminari says. “You’re so good at English, and I need so much help.”

“No!” Kirishima immediately protests. “You can ask Bakugou. You’re already stealing them tomorrow.”

The noise that leaves the blond is akin to a squawk. “I said I want to be tutored, not bullied—”

You giggle as they bicker, turning back to your onion as you feel your cheeks heat. You continue chopping, embarrassed by the attention. A nudge from your left makes you look up, eyes connecting with Sero’s. He gives you a wink and then sticks out his tongue. You return the gesture.

Your heart still beats quickly and you feel the familiar tingle of nerves thrum through your hands. Your mind has a slight haze, a tough stain left by the previous night. Your cheeks are warm from embarrassment. You cringe at the mere thought of the conversation in your room earlier.

But you’re moving forward, you think. To the cafe with Kaminari and Shinsou, to study with Kirishima. To let your friends in just a little bit, and to begin this careful exploration of yourself in the process.

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