#i swear im writing just at a snails pace

[fleursbending]

thinking abt this scene .... yeah !. HIS EYES SPEAK AND CONVEY SM.. first time i saw this scene i was like 😟🫢.

[turtle-steverogers]

Race vs the hot RA

Or the couple times race pined after the hot RA and the time the hot RA pined back

Hi! im back at school after thanksgiving break, so i decided to write some college fluff.  like for real guys.  its j us t fluff

enjoy!

ship: ralbert

warnings: lots of fucking smiling ;)

word count: something like 3k?

editing: nein

-

1.

“This is BULLSHIT.”

Race takes out an earbud and stares, mildly alarmed, at the bathroom door of their suite.  Abruptly, the shower shuts off, despite having been on for all of thirty seconds and a moment later, Spot emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist, shivering hard enough to rival a chihuahua left out in front of a grocery store in the rain.  He looks angry, scowling hard enough to bare his teeth and eyes narrowed in a way that would probably be murderous if he didn’t also look entirely pathetic.  

Race quirks an amused eyebrow, “Everything okay?”

“No,” Spot growls, “there’s no fucking hot water.”

Race frowns, “Like, none?”

“Yes, Race,” Now Race can see the goosebumps that line Spot’s arms and notes with faint concern that his lips look a little blue, “None.  Like, it’s fucking Antarctica in that fucking shower.  I feel like Steve Rogers after he crashed that fucking plane into the Arctic.”

“Shit, that’s not good.”

Spot scoffs, giving him a ‘no shit’ look and crosses to his drawer to pull out a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

“Maybe too many people are using the showers?” Race suggests, “and like, maybe the hot water got all used up.  That happens sometimes at home.”

“Don’t think it works like that,” Spot says, padding back towards the bathroom, “M’pretty sure this place operates more like a hotel, so lack of hot water shouldn’t be an issue.  Can you go let the RA know something’s wrong with the plumbing?”

Race’s stomach drops, face coloring a bit at the thought of talking to Albert, their engineering SLO’s attractive resident’s assistant.  Like Race and Spot, he’s a junior, but this was Race’s first year living in the engineering housing, so he hadn’t seen him around before.  Which was weird considering they should have at least had a freshman seminar together or something of the sort. 

But nope.  On upperclassmen move in day, Race was completely blindsided by the pretty redhead coming around to the dorms, introducing himself with a disarmingly charming smile and an overly peppy, “If you ever need anything, I’m in 311b!”

Which was unfair, really, because naturally, Race had to see Albert fairly often at various floor events and as smooth as he’d like to believe he is, Albert made him basically incoherent.

And Spot knows that.

So, fuck Spot.

“Can’t you go tell him?” Race calls, trying not to sound pathetic but missing that mark by miles.

“No!” Spot shouts back, still sounding irritated, “I got class soon, dude, stop being a pussy and go!”

Race groans, steeling himself for a moment before pushing himself up from his desk and crossing towards the door, stopping at the bathroom to yell a quick, “I hate you!” at Spot before exiting and ambling down the hall towards Albert’s single.  The sign outside Albert’s door says that he’s on duty, so he knocks twice and bounces on his toes while he waits, stomach swooping when he hears a, “Just a sec!” from inside the room.

A second later, Albert opens the door, looking relaxed in a pair of running shorts and long sleeved shirt, feet tucked into a fluffy pair of moccasins.  The outfit is stupid and entirely adorable and Race has to forcably log his brain back online.  By the time he’s gotten a grip on himself, he realizes that Albert was saying something and is now looking at him with a mildly concerned and expectant smile on his face.

“Shit, sorry,” Race stammers, “What?”

The easy smile doesn’t drop, but an almost knowing glint flashes through Albert’s eyes, “I just asked what’s up.  Everything okay?”

“Oh,” Race feels himself blush, “Yeah, no, the hot water’s just fucked in our bathroom.  Thought I should let you know.”

“Ah, fuck,” Even disgruntled, Albert looks easy-going.  It’s unfair really.  For someone majoring in astrophysics, Albert always look entirely too relaxed, “Yeah, Mush came to me earlier about that.  I called in a ‘fix-it’ and they said someone should be coming to look at it around 5 o’clock.  Sorry, though.  I know cold showers are fucking awful.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Race says, “Spot was the one who got the brunt of it, not me.”

“Bet he was thrilled,” Albert says, “Kid’s a ray of sunshine.”

Albert even manages to make biting sarcasm sound entirely welcome.  Race isn’t convinced he doesn’t have super powers or something.

“Yeah, he was super chill about it,” Race plays along, “Kindly asked me to let you know and everything.”

“Mhm, I’m sure.”

There’s a small lapse of silence and Race starts to feel the nerves in his stomach come back, suddenly overwhelmed again by Albert’s alluring nature.  He’s about to turn and leave when Albert opens his door wider.

“You wanna come in for a bit?” He asks, “Was just making some ramen if you’re interested.”

“Oh,” Race’s heart soars for a second before dropping again, “Fuck, I’d love to, but I can’t,” Albert’s face falls a fraction and Race tries not to read too deep into that, “I have to finish studying for that astro 212 exam.”

Albert lights up again, “Oh! I gotta study for that, too.  We can study together?  If you want, I mean.  Like, you totally don’t have to if you, like, study better alone or something, I just thought it might be fun to-”

“Albert,” Race cuts him off, feeling oddly elated to see Albert flustered for once, “No, that’s perfect.  I’d love to eat ramen and study with you, just give me a minute to go grab my notes.”

“Sweet!” Albert says, smiling again, “I’ll keep my door open, so just come on in whenever!”

Race gives him a thumbs up and tries not to run back to his room.  Once he’s inside, it’s a mad dash to grab his things, cursing as he drops his graphing calculator twice.  He doesn’t even notice Spot on the floor, tying his shoes, until he laughs.

“Got a hot study date?” He quips.

“No,” Race says, “Shut up.  RAs aren’t technically allowed to date residents.”

Spot holds up his hands in the universal sign of surrender, “Rules can be bent.”

Race rolls his eyes, rushing back out of the room.

2.

Race fucking hates calculus.  Well, actually, that’s a lie.  He fucking loves calculus.  Numbers have always made sense to him, theorems and equations melding into one beautiful web of logic that always pulled him into a comfortable rhythm.  But right now, surface integrals were fucking him in the ass.  

Which is why he’s holed up in the library on a Sunday morning, staving off a wicked hangover and trying not to vomit as he stares dejectedly at his textbook, praying that the words on the page will magically make sense.  Sighing probably too dramatically, he pulls his notebook towards himself and copies down another problem, working through it at a snail’s pace before checking the answer in the back of the book…

...And it’s wrong.  Again.  Fuck.

He groans, dropping his head down and thumping it a few times against the table.  It makes his head hurt worse, so he stops, inwardly reviewing all the ways he’s a fucking dumbass who shouldn’t be in college, because college is hard.  

And fuck multivariable calculus.

Just kidding, sorry, Race thinks, I love you, multivar.  

“Doing okay?” 

Race looks up too fast, groaning again at the movement.  Albert’s hovering across the table from him, backpack slung on his back and iced coffee in hand, an amused smirk resting on his face.  He looks entirely too awake for a 10 am on a Sunday, but then again he wasn’t drinking last night.  

“Depends,” Race answers, apparently too hungover to be too affected by Albert’s presence, “Are surface integrals really worth my sweat and tears?”

“For our major, yes,” Albert says, “Mind if I sit?”

Race waves him off, dropping his head back onto the table, “Go ahead.  What’re you doing up so early?”

“Same as you it seems,” Race can hear him taking out his books, “Guess we all got a little behind on calc homework.”

“Guess so,” Race forces himself to sit back up, “I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?”

“Any of it,” Race feels his stress start to peak, “I haven’t gotten a single fucking problem right and I’ve been here since fucking 8 and really, I don’t know why I did that to myself, ‘cause I was up ‘til god knows when last night dri-” He cuts off, eyeing Albert warily.  

Albert shakes his head, “It’s okay, call me a bad RA, but as long as you all are being safe with it and there are no complaints, do what you want.”

Race nods, “Well, then, yeah.  So, I was up ‘til god knows when and now I’m hungover, but I gotta spend more time on this fucking class so I don’t fail this unit, because I’ve never failed a unit of math before and I don’t wanna start now, because then I’ll fail everything and fail out of college and-”

“Whoa,” Albert reaches across the table and places a hand on Race’s forearm, “Slow down, dude, breathe,” he waits for Race to take a deep breath, “It’s going to be alright, man.  Everyone’s got a bad unit, doesn’t mean you’re gonna fail it all.  Just gotta make a game plan.  I’m decent at this stuff if you want some help? I can’t say I’m as good as a TA or something might be, but I can help you get this assignment done.”

Race takes another deep breath, trying not to focus on Albert’s lingering grip on his arm.  Albert seems to come back to himself though, because he clears his throat, coloring a little as he squeezes Race’s arm and lets go.

“Sorry,” Race says sheepishly, “Didn’t mean to lose it there.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

And there’s Albert again, putting Race at ease with the tone of his voice alone.  Fucking magic, Race swears.

Maybe it’s an RA thing.  They all seem to have that scarily open demeanor.  Race could never.

“You don’t gotta help me, man,” Race says, “I’d feel bad making you-”

“Don’t,” Albert says, smiling.  Jeez, does he ever stop smiling? “You’re not making me do anything, I offered.  Plus, I gotta get this shit done, too.  We’d really just be doing it together.  It’s better practice to go in depth anyway.”

A swell of admiration grips Race and he has to look back down at his notebook to keep from doing something stupid like kiss Albert or something.  

“C’mon,” Albert prompts lightly, scooching so he’s next to Race instead of across from him and knocking their knees together.  Race tries not to lean into the touch, “What’s the first problem? 34?”

They work through the math at a steady pace, and with Albert’s instruction (which lacks a certain condescending air that Spot always gets when he tries to help Race out), Race starts to understand the content better.  He’ll still need to go to office hours, probably, but for the moment, he feels less panicked.  

By the time they’re finished, their bodies are pressed together from shoulder to thigh, both of them hunched over their work only inches apart.  Race tries not to stare, but he can’t help but notice the way Albert bites his lip and narrows his eyes when he’s focused.  Even with his guard down, he’s magnetic- effortlessly charming.  He must feel Race looking, because he glances up from where he’s completing the final problem.  They’re very close- too close, really and Race can see him flick his gaze down to his lips for a second before locking on his eyes.  In his peripheral, Race can see his ears color.  He’s a blusher, Race has come to realize.  It’s kind of precious.

“Thanks,” Race says, unable to stand the growing tension.  

Albert blinks a couple times, eyes clearing, “Yeah, no prob.”

“Like, really, thanks.  I get it more now and I’m infinitely less stressed.”

Albert grins, “I’m really glad.”

It’s quiet for another second, then Race shifts, glancing at his watch and realizing he’s done with homework and it’s not even 1:00 pm yet.

“Shit, what time is it,” Albert asks, leaning in again to look at Race’s watch, “Fuck, I have duty in a half hour, I gotta go.”

Race tries not to feel disappointed at the prospect of Albert leaving, “Yeah, I might try to go back to sleep to be honest.”

Albert laughs, “Good plan, drink water.”

“Will do.”

They pack up in silence and walk out of the library, pausing again when they get back to their hall.  

“Obviously fuck math, but I had fun hanging out with you,” Albert says.

Race feels his heartbeat pick up, “I had fun too.”

There’s another pause, this time a little more loaded, then Albert claps him on the shoulder, “Catch those Zs, bro, I’ll see you around.”

“See you.” Race says, waving as Albert begins to head down the hall.

“Don’t forget to eat!”

“I won’t.”

Albert turns around, fixing him with a playfully serious glare, “Promise me, Higgins.  Can’t have any residents sick if I have something to do with it.”

Race laughs, “I promise.”

“Good,” Albert winks and Race feels himself blush down to his chest.

3.

“Albert?”

The situation feels oddly flipped when Race walks into Panera to find Albert slumped at a table, head in his hands and knee bouncing rapidly under the table.  It’s a Tuesday afternoon and Race figured he’d grab his weekly cup of broccoli cheddar soup before english.

Albert lifts his head from his hands and Race feels his concern grow when he notices the red that rims his eyes.  He’s only ever seen Albert cool and collected, but he supposes even freakishly bubbly people have bad days, too.

“Hey, Race,” Albert tries to smile at him, but it falls short, “What’s up? You okay?”

“I’m good,” Race says, “Just grabbing a bite.  What about you?  Are you okay?”

Albert deflates a little, dropping his eyes down to his laptop, “I’m alright.”

“You sure?” Race ventures.  Fuck it, he thinks and sits down, “You’re looking a little stressed.  Is something up?”

He sincerely hopes he isn’t pushing boundaries here, but Albert looks like he needs a friend right now.  Or maybe a shot of really strong tequila.  Or both.

Albert shrugs, letting out a breath.  It sounds shaky and shallow.  He fixes Race with a self-deprecating smile.

“Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

“Hey, man, just because you’re an RA doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help or some bullshit.  I’m not gonna make you talk to me or anything, that would be shitty, but I’m here for you and so’s everyone else on the floor.  If something’s bothering you, then it’s valid and you deserve support.”

Albert has such a starkly vulnerable look in his eyes that Race almost has to look away.  The corners of his lips are turned down and his eyes are wide and almost pleading and he looks so goddamn defeated and beautiful at the same time and Race really wants to hug him.

Albert’s jaw shifts and he turns his gaze down towards his hands.  His voice cracks a bit when he says, “I’m technically here on a hockey scholarship, right?” Race nods and Albert continues, “And our team is losing national ranking, ‘cause our new coach fucking sucks, so I might lose aspects of that scholarship and my parents can’t pay for my tuition on their own and-” he stops, shaking his head, “I’m scared, I think.  I don’t wanna have to drop out or something.”

Race takes a moment to mull over a good response and reaches across the table, hoping he’s been reading their interactions correctly as he places a hand over Albert’s.  To his relief (and delight) Albert flips his hand so their fingers are laced together.  

Race squeezes it encouragingly, “I can’t promise you that everything will be alright and I can’t make you false reassurances, but I bet if you talked to the financial aid office, they could help you figure out a plan?  But throughout all of this, I’m going to be here for you, alright?  Anything you need, just let me know.  If that’s a place to talk shit out, I gotchu, but I’m also here if you just need a friend.  I’m here for you, Al.”

Albert’s looking at him again, that same vulnerable look on his face, but something else is there a well.  Something softer underlying the worry lines on his face.

“Next semester I’m not going to be an RA anymore.” He blurts.

Race blinks, “Alright?”

Albert huffs out a laugh, “Sorry, I mean like,” he shakes himself, starting over, “I like you, Race.”

Race’s stomach jolts, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Albert says slowly.  They’re hands are still linked together and Race can feel Albert’s hand sweating.  Or maybe that’s his.  Fuck, they both seem keyed up.

“Fuck, I mean, Albert, I like you too.  Have since the beginning of the semester,” Race knows he’s talking too fast, but the smile on Albert’s face tells him it doesn’t matter.

“Yeah?” And Albert looks so damn appeased that Race laughs.

“Yeah.”

“So, if I’m not an RA next semester, then we could…”

“You tryna ask me out, Dasilva?” Race asks, a teasing lilt to his tone.

“Eventually, yes I am,” Albert says.

On a whim, Race lifts Albert’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles.  

“After Winter break, I’m taking you to that thai place in town.”

Albert’s smile takes on a genuinity that Race hasn’t seen before, “I’d like that.”

A month later...

“Feels good to actually be able to, like, do this shit publicly.”

Race leans in, pressing a kiss to Albert’s chin.  They’re in the library, trying to get ahead of their physics homework before it picks up too much.  Technically, they’d gotten together after admitting to liking each other last semester, but they weren’t allowed to have a relationship until Albert was out of his RA position.

“Yeah, that was like some star crossed lovers bullshit,” Albert laughs, “Hiding you in my dorm room and stealing kisses in dark hallways.”

“How romantic,” Race teases.

“I know.”

They kiss for real, both leaning into it.  Race feels Albert grip his arm right above his elbow, rubbing his thumb in circles around his bicep.  In turn, he brushes Albert’s hair behind his ears, tilting his jaw to deepen the kiss.

They pull apart and lean their foreheads together, smiling.

“I’m thinking about becoming an RA next semester,” Race murmurs.

Albert pulls back, looking alarmed until he sees the smirk on Race’s face, “you ass, I actually believed you!”

“Pfft, I wouldn’t do that when we just got this,” Race says, pulling Albert back in and kissing him again, “I like you too much.”

Albert smiles, giddy and exultant, “I like you, too, I think.”

“You think?”

“I know, I think.”

Race swats him, “Be serious and love me.”

They both freeze, the weight of the words they have yet to actually say suddenly hanging in the air.

Albert sobers up, taking Race’s hand, “I do love you.  A lot, actually.”

And really, that’s unfair, because sometimes Race still gets so goddamn enamored by Albert and he can’t really believe he actually likes him back and he can feel his face flushing and oh god, he’s not going to revert back to incoherence is he? Oh god-

“Don’t have an aneurysm,” Albert says, kissing his nose, “I love you.  That’s all.”

When Race smiles, it feels too big for his face, “I love you, too.”

END

-

thanks for reading, chiefs

yell at me to start writing again cuz i really been slacking

hmu to be added to my tag

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[ladyfl4me]

ok. i promise, I'll do some writing for tcos later this week, its just been academic hell for me this past month. I have a paper due tomorrow afternoon, another paper and a video essay to make for other classes, and a short story to revise and condense for my workshop class. there are three ish weeks left in the semester and im fuckin feeling it right about now.

but tcos isn't going to be abandoned, i swear. I've got it planned out all the way to arc 3 - i know exactly what happens, who lives, who falls/stays in love, where everything is going. if you've been keeping up with the story/still reading, despite my snail's pace of updating, I can't thank you enough for sticking with it 💖💖💖

[kagehinataboke]

Im so fucking guilty of staying up late just to binge on your works because your writing is so great ! I just cant help but need to request a tdbk college au where katsuki is a punk with a loud bike and Shouto is just this perfect good boy who got roped into bad boy Katsuki’s lifestyle, basically a good boy/bad boy dynamics, pretty please ?? 🥺🥺 (gonna use emojis to be more convincing)

awww omg thank you, you sweet angel ❤️😭 ily uwu

and yassss ✨❤️ here’s pre-med student Todoroki ft. bad boy Bakugou 👏🏻

accidentally made this super long ooops

***

Todoroki thought he knew what tired was, but his pre-med course has completely reinvented the word. Exhausted, debilitated, and lifeless are better words to describe the kind of fatigue he feels. It’s class to class to class, with endless homework in between. Sleep? It’s basically a foreign concept at this point.

Heck, Todoroki is barely awake now, which isn’t such a good thing when one is walking down the street alone at night. He keeps almost drifting into lamp posts and street signs. The last lecture was just so long…

“Fuck.”

For a second, Todoroki thinks the expletive is directed at him. Then he lifts his head. There’s a bloodied figure hunched over in the nearest alley, both hands pressed against a large wound in his lower abdomen. He’s swearing at the sky, which is probably the only place he can look without passing out. Todoroki, despite not being the one in peril, feels a jolt of adrenaline spike through him. He knows he shouldn’t be approaching someone who has what is clearly a stab wound, but his medical training is already kicking in.

“Move your hands.”

The stranger squints at him with crimson eyes. “…What? Who the fuck are—“

Todoroki forcibly pushes his arms back. “You’re pressing on the wrong spot. You’ll bleed out.” He puts his own hands on the wound, altering pressure until the blood stops gushing between his fingers. When he has a solid position, he meets the stranger’s gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Bakugou Katsuki…” He closes his eyes to take a shuddering breath. “Shit. Don’t call the fucking cops, okay?”

“Well, that leaves me with very limited options…” Todoroki struggles to think of an alternative. His apartment is close, but he can’t take his hands off the stab wound. “Bakugou, If I tell you where to hold your hands, can you keep even pressure while I carry you to my place?”

“I don’t have much choice, do I?” Bakugou weakly rolls his head to look at his stomach. “Just tell me what to do before I fucking bleed out.”

As much as Todoroki doesn’t want this obvious delinquent in his house, he can’t exactly let someone die in an alley, either. “Put your hands here. Yeah. Keep pressure. Good.” As soon as his hands are free, Todoroki moves to slip an arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. He flinches and delivers an intimidating glare, but Todoroki can’t be swayed when he’s in Doctor Mode. “Don’t move your hands.”

“Fine… Don’t fucking touch me anywhere weird, asshole.”

“That isn’t how you should be talking to someone who’s saving your life,” Todoroki mutters, pushing himself to a standing position. Bakugou isn’t as heavy as he expected. “Try not to pass out before we get there.”

“Fuck you.”

***

After Todoroki treats him and sends him on his way, he never expects to see Bakugou Katsuki again. Fate, however, has different expectations. While he’s walking home from his morning class, Todoroki hears the rev of a motorcycle through his headphones. When it stops suspiciously close by, he turns to find a familiar blond delinquent smirking at him.

“Bakugou?” Todoroki takes out one earbud. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in town when I spotted you walking.” Bakugou leans his arms on the motorcycle, grin widening. “Want a ride?”

“On that?” Todoroki raises an eyebrow at the rumbling Harley. “No thanks. You’re nine times more likely to become injured while riding a motorcycle than while driving a car, you know. It’s not safe.”

“Oh yeah?” Bakugou lifts his own brow in retaliation. “But it still looks fucking cool, at least.”

Todoroki sighs and starts walking again, but Bakugou doesn’t give up easily. He follows at a snail’s pace, calling out childishly every few steps. “C’mon, pretty boy, live a little!”

The phrase ‘live a little’ gets to him. As a med student, Todoroki feels like he definitely lives on the safer side. He lost many friends in high school because he was “too boring.” Hearing Bakugou say it presses on an old bruise. He shouldn’t get so worked up over it, but…

Even though he knows he’s being an idiot, Todoroki stalks over to Bakugou’s motorcycle and slides on. The seat is humming gently, and Bakugou’s back is warm. His smile is still, however, incredibly annoying. “That’s more like it.” He passes Todoroki a spare helmet. “Where to, angel?”

“Fourth and Main.” Todoroki pauses. “Don’t call me that.”

“Hey, I call it like I see it.” Bakugou flips down the visor on his helmet, revving the engine obnoxiously. “Hold on tight.”

They take off, and Todoroki quickly lurches forward to grab Bakugou’s waist. He’s never felt this kind of adrenaline before, not even in the alley when they first met. The wind whips against his face and tugs at his clothes, and the street whizzes by underneath his feet in a blur of gray asphalt. Todoroki doesn’t even realize they’re not heading in the right direction until they stop.

“This isn’t Fourth and Main.” Todoroki’s hands shift away as Bakugou puts the Harley in park. “Where are we?”

“Just gotta grab something real quick. Don’t look so scared.” Bakugou pulls off his helmet, his hair somehow pristine underneath. He brushes it out of his face before shooting Todoroki a grin. “Coming?”

He isn’t about to sit out here alone, so he nods hesitantly. “I guess.”

“You’ll have to let go of me, then.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

They dismount, Bakugou taking the lead. He uses a key to get into the decrepit brick building they’ve parked in front of—probably his apartment complex, if Todoroki were to wager a guess. It’s covered in graffiti outside, but the interior is normal enough. Todoroki trails Bakugou down the hall to a door on the far end, pausing while he fiddles with the lock. “This damn thing always jams. Fuck. There.”

Todoroki isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but it isn’t this. Bakugou’s apartment is flawless. In fact, it’s cleaner than Todoroki’s dorm. The floors are dark hardwood, the walls are painted a nice shade of orange, and in the windowsill, there’s a neat line of potted succulents. It looks more like a high-rise magazine ad than a lived-in space.

“Fuck, where did I put it?” Bakugou digs noisily through a stack of papers on the coffee table, disrupting the peace. He certainly contrasts sharply to his apartment with his spiked hair, scowl, and ear piercings. And his attitude, of course. “Ah, fuck. Here it is.” He pulls something out of the pile with finality, sliding dislodged papers under the table with his foot.

It’s a textbook. Todoroki recognizes it from a class his sister took. “Advanced Biochemistry? You take that course?”

“Don’t look so surprised, asshole.” Bakugou ushers him out the door, locking it behind them. “Just because I swear and look intimidating doesn’t mean I’m a fucking moron.”

“I never thought you were.” Todoroki waits to be passed a motorcycle helmet before saying anything else. “How’s your stomach doing?”

“Huh? It’s fine. I’ve been hurt way worse than this. More importantly…” Bakugou smirks in a worrying and heart-stopping way. “What time does your class get out? I’ll pick you up.”

Todoroki shouldn’t tell him. He’s been thinking he shouldn’t do a lot of things recently. Unfortunately, he never takes his own advice. “Ten thirty. Don’t be late.”

***

Seeing him becomes a habit. Every time Todoroki gets out of class, Bakugou is there, leaning against his motorcycle with a smirk and a wave. When exactly they started spending so much time together is a mystery, but Todoroki can no longer remember the time when he walked home alone. When he was alone, period.

He asks Bakugou about it while he’s sitting on his spotless white sofa, eating take-out soba. “When did we become friends?”

“Huh?” Bakugou looks up from his chemistry textbook with a scoff. “Why the fuck are you asking that? I dunno.”

“Well, it was after you started harassing me all the time,” Todoroki continues with a frown. “Following me around on your motorcycle, calling me to patch you up after a fight—”

“That was one fucking time!” Bakugou interrupts, throwing a packet of soy sauce at Todoroki’s head. “Are you trying to piss me off, bastard? I swear I’ll make you walk home.”

“I’m only kidding. I like being friends with you.” Todoroki finishes his noodles and smacks the back of Bakugou’s head on his way to the kitchen. “I’d patch you up again if you asked me. It’s good practice for med school.”

“Asshole.” Bakugou rubs his head irritably. “Fuck, did you know that you give off mixed signals? God damn.”

Todoroki doesn’t answer. ‘Mixed signals’? Ha. If anything, Bakugou is the one who gives them off. He follows Todoroki everywhere, and he’s constantly flirting with him, but that’s as far as it goes. He still swears an ungodly amount, is the exact opposite of considerate, and has the crudest sense of humor in the world. It’s impossible to believe that he fell in love with a person like that.

Yes, unfortunately: he did fall in love. With Bakugou Katsuki, of all people. It’s a rather unfortunate turn of events, mainly because Todoroki finds himself worrying about Bakugou more than he worries about himself. He’s more conscious of him, too: he can’t help it. Even now, he’s studying the blond out of the corner of his eye. He’s been holding his arm awkwardly all day.

“Did you get in another fight?” Todoroki finishes washing his noodle bowl and turns a scrutinizing gaze on Bakugou, who flinches.

“…What gives you that idea?”

“You just confirmed it.” Todoroki narrows his eyes, and Bakugou’s widen. He leaps to his feet like a startled cat, putting the couch between them as a protective barrier.

“You stay the fuck away from—“ Todoroki jumps at him before he can finish the sentence, vaulting the couch in a single movement. Bakugou screeches and barely dodges him, sprinting around the coffee table. “You fucking psycho! Don’t do this again!”

“Let me see your arm, then!” Todoroki picks up a magazine and nails him in the back with it. Bakugou stumbles, his socked feet slipping on the hardwood floor. Todoroki takes the opportunity to grab his shirt collar, yanking him onto the couch in a headlock. He pulls up Bakugou’s left sleeve, revealing a long bloodied bandage covering his arm. “I knew it… When did you get this?”

Bakugou, sulking over the lost struggle, lets out a heavy breath. “Last night, after I dropped you off.” He glares out the window. “There was a guy outside. He said some shit, and we got into it. I’m fine.”

“Let me see it.” Todoroki relaxes his grip and Bakugou slides onto the floor, but he doesn’t run away. He surrenders his arm to Todoroki, grumbling irritably the whole time he unwraps it. It’s bad, to say the least, but at least it doesn’t look infected. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Todoroki already knows the answer: Bakugou thinks they belong to different worlds. He keeps Todoroki out of trouble, even if it means being a reckless idiot. It makes him so angry that he wants to scream. But he settles on leaving, instead. He lets Bakugou go and grabs his bag. “I have to go.”

“Wait. It’s late. I’ll drive you—“

Todoroki slams the door, cutting him off. So what if it’s late? He’d rather walk alone in the pitch black than risk saying things he’ll regret later.

He really needs to get a handle on these feelings, before they get out of hand.

***

He really should’ve let Bakugou drive him home. If he had, the idiot would’ve stayed out of trouble. When Todoroki gets a text with three words and a location ping before dawn, he already knows it’s bad news.

from: blond moron at 4:32 AM.

>> i need you

>> blond moron sent his location

Todoroki stumbles around pulling on clothes in the dark. His heart is hammering so loudly in his ears that he can’t even hear himself breathing. The location is an alleyway a few blocks away. That can’t be good. What the hell has Bakugou gotten himself into this time?

By the time he arrives, Todoroki has been through every worst-case scenario. But nothing could have prepared him for this. Bakugou, unconscious in a pool of blood. Three guys surrounding him, one of them with Bakugou’s cellphone in his hand. They’re gang members: he recognizes them from around town. Oh god. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, Todoroki was in such a hurry that he didn’t bring his phone or a weapon. Basically, he’s screwed.

“What’s going on here?” At least he can keep the tremor out of his voice.

One of the gang members scoffs. “Fuck. This is who this asshole saved as ‘angel’? I thought it’d be a chick.”

Todoroki shifts nervously, realizing what their intentions must be. Panic rises in his chest, but he shoves it down. Fight or flight is a natural response. He can ignore it if he tries. “You… You should get out of here before I call the police.” Hopefully, the bluff is believable.

The group of guys ignores him. “Even if he’s not a girl, he’s got a pretty face,” one says, giving Todoroki a creepy once-over. “Shame about that scar, but the rest of him could get me off.”

Todoroki is so offended that he almost scoffs. Why the hell didn’t he bring his phone? God, he’ll never yell at Bakugou for calling him stupid ever again… But what’s important right now is getting them both safely out of this situation. There won’t be people out on the street so late at night, so helpful bystander intervention is out. Todoroki is all alone on this one.

The gang members seem to have reached a consensus. They drop Bakugou’s phone and circle him, smirking and heckling. He figures he’s got two options: run or beat them up. Maybe fight or flight isn’t easy to ignore, after all.

“If you don’t put up a fight, this’ll all be much easier,” one of the men says, slowly inching closer, like a lion circling its prey.

Todoroki takes a page from Bakugou’s book. “Fuck you.” 

Making them angry will make them clumsy. 

Probably.

***

“Do you want to explain to me how you got these injuries?”

Todoroki shifts in his hospital bed, avoiding the officer’s gaze. “Not really?”

“What about the gentleman you came in with?” A pencil taps impatiently against a pad of paper. “Did you two get into some type of altercation?”

“No. I told you, he’s my friend.” Todoroki scratches the bandage on his head nervously. “The two of us were mugged by those three men. Unprovoked.”

“Uh-huh.” The pencil stops tapping, and the officer sighs. “Alright, then. I’ll go talk to those three and see what information I can get. If you’d like to change your statement at any time, I’ll be here.”

As soon as he’s gone, Todoroki sags against his pillows. He still can’t believe they actually escaped. He got lucky, that’s for sure. That wrench he found probably saved both of their lives. His, most definitely, even if it didn’t save all of him. He’s got a nasty gash on his head, dark bruises around his neck, and scratch-marks all over his chest and back.

Bakugou is pretty banged up, too, but not as badly. He’s only got a minor concussion and a nasty cut on his torso. Just when that stab wound was starting to scar over, too.

“Todoroki-san?” A nurse knocks and sticks her head in through the open door. “Are you up for a visitor?”

“A visitor?” Todoroki’s heart leaps. It must be him. “Sure.”

Bakugou appears in the gap the nurse vacates, holding onto an IV pole with one hand. He’s ditched his hospital gown for a loose cotton shirt and jeans, most definitely against medical orders. “…Hey.”

“Hey.” Todoroki waits for him to sit down before sitting up. “Are you allowed to be walking around?”

“Not really.” Bakugou looks at him, and Todoroki is shocked to see tears slip down his face. He’s never seen him cry. Never. “You’re a fucking idiot.” The swearing isn’t new, though.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Todoroki presses his fingertips together, then relaxes them again. “It’s not like the situation was avoidable,” he murmurs eventually. “They texted me pretending to be you. I couldn’t just ignore it. And if I hadn’t come—”

Bakugou slams a fist into the wall, startling Todoroki into silence. “If you hadn’t come, those motherfuckers wouldn’t have—” He takes a measured breath before continuing. “They told me what those bastards tried to do. I was so pissed, I wanted to punch myself. If I wasn’t an idiot who got into fights in the first place, you wouldn’t have had to go through that shit. It’s my fault.”

“I’m fine,” Todoroki tells him quietly. “They barely touched—” He trails off when Bakugou’s fingertips brush against the bruises at his throat. He expects to feel a jolt of suppressed trauma, but there’s nothing more than a lump building in his throat. “Bakugou, I’m really…”

“You’re not fine.” He runs a hand through his hair without meeting Todoroki’s eyes. “Fuck. I can’t…” He flinches when Todoroki takes his hand.

“I know you think I can’t handle myself. And don’t try to argue: I know it’s true, too. But I can. I took care of us both this time.” He squeezes Bakugou’s hand. “I’m strong, too. Even if I don’t look as intimidating as you do.” He tries to smile. “This didn’t scare me. Not in the least.”

For a while, they linger in silence. Then Bakugou sighs, pressing their joined hands to his forehead. “Yeah,” he relents, “I know you’re strong. It’s part of the reason I like you so damn much.”

If he didn’t know any better, Todoroki would think he‘s dreaming. But his head throbs too much for him to be asleep. “What did you say?”

“I like you.” Bakugou doesn’t let go of his hand. “But you knew that, right? I didn’t mean to take so long to tell you. I guess I didn’t want to make myself seem less cool in your eyes? Don’t laugh. I know it sounds fucking stupid now.”

“This is kind of… the worst timing for a confession,” Todoroki mutters, but he can feel himself smiling. “I have a concussion.”

“What? Why does that matter?”

“I just really don’t want to forget this.”

“Really?” Bakugou snorts. “Idiot… Don’t worry. I won’t let you forget it.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Todoroki raises an eyebrow, and Bakugou’s smile stretches against his fingers.

“Definitely a promise.”

[storiesundercandlelight]

Loving Loki - Four

Two weeks. Two uneventful weeks had passed since David and I had our day out. The day where we had also said that we would start dating each other, yet here I am sat on may couch on a Saturday morning wondering why fate and timing had been so cruel to me. 

I was being selfish, I knew this yet I couldn’t help myself. So many thoughts were running through my head right now. The case was over. Detective Loki was on the news. Missing girls both found and alive. Even the father of the last girl to be found had been located after his mysterious disappearance. I wanted to be happy, I was, almost. David had been gone so much recently, the last two weeks were manic for him, not just because he solved the case but also because people seemed to blow up about this story, about the detective who had single handedly solved this brutally horrible case of the abduction of two girls.

My phone vibrated against the wood of the coffee table beside me, my eyes pulling away from the dull noise of the TV. It was David.

I know you’re mad, I’m sorry I haven’t had any time to see you. Can I come over later?

It was hard to be mad, I just couldn’t justify it. How could I be mad at someone who so patiently and passionately wanted to do his best to find the missing girl, who had risked his well being to bring her home? You just cant be mad at someone like that. But I cant deny this strange feeling inside. It had been almost three months since I moved here and the lonely feeling never fully went away. I almost cried when my friend Kate told me she was coming to visit me, I swear I couldn’t wait the three days it was going to take before she’s due to visit. 

I’m not mad David, how could I be? Of course you can come over x 

These little texts back and forth had been a constant part of my daily routine for the last two weeks. It was the only thing that fully reminded me that I was even in this relationship. This very new, very non-existent relationship. 

Ok, I’ll be there around 5:30pm? We could order some food and watch a movie?

I had to admit he knew how to do it. Somehow he knew after so little time that I preferred to stay home and snuggle up rather than dressing up and going out. Well…except from when Kate gets here then going out is a must, the girl seems to function best under florescent lights and above crowded dance floors. 

My eyes drifted to my laptop, still sat on the coffee table “Draft One” the only thing written on the screen. I tried, so so many times to get words out. God I wanted to write something. To pour my emotions out and create something that others would be still glued to at 1:00am in the morning because they simply can’t put it down without knowing the ending. I don’t know what it was but the sudden urge to leave the house was so heavy on my shoulders that I didn’t hesitate with my next text.

Skip takeout, I need milk, I’ll grab something to make for dinner x

I was pretty comfortable cooking for myself, it had been a while since I’d cooked for anyone else but the idea of trying something new with David was so exciting.

Sure sounds great x

I allowed myself a few seconds to smile at the fact that he put an x at the end of the text, its such a petty thing to notice but I did anyway. Then I jumped up, grabbed my coat, keys and bag and headed out. 

The little car I’d got myself was useful enough, it wasn’t fancy or particularly expensive but it worked for me and didn’t look like a crumpled up tin can so I think I did okay. The parking lot to the local supermarket was pretty full, I didn’t expect anything less for a Saturday. But I did take notice more than once of the kids cheerfully throwing their parents groceries to each other other the carts. One wrong move and that melon is going everywhere. 

I settled for teriyaki chicken, some rice and a few greens. I’d cooked it more than once and didn’t feel like a complete fool when it came to cooking it for someone else. As I walked down the isles grabbing what I need plus extra groceries for the week my phone started ringing. David?

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah I got a five minute break so I figured I’d call, whats that noise?”

“That would be two kids trying to decide which one of them can throw the vegetables in they mothers cart the furthest, I think they’re going for a world record”

“You’re joking right?”

“Nope, you cant make this stuff up, the floor attendant looks like he’s about to blow a fuse” I pushed myself up onto my tip toes to reach a bag of chips from the top shelf. 

“If it’s the Harris kid they’ll be strung up from the ceiling by the time you leave”

“You know too many people”

“It’s a small town, so what are you cooking tonight?”

“I cant tell you”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do then you’ll have too much time between now and when you’re due over to realise you hate what I’m cooking and make an excuse not to come” I finally reached the till where a teenager was chewing gum and scanning my items at a snails pace. 

“I promise I wont hate whatever you make”

“I’m gonna hold you to that when you taste it and realise that I’m an awful cook”

“Well you said awful first so maybe-“ I heard David reply to someone in the background, the till beeping and the struggle of holding the phone between my head and shoulder while packing preventing me from hearing fully what was said. “I gotta go, I’ll see you later?”

“Oh yeah, sure. See you later” The line went dead just as I’d finished paying. I grabbed my bags and said thanks to the girl who’s eyes were directly chained on the guy working the other till, she popped her gum and nodded at me without even taking her eyes off him. 

The rest of the day went by pretty uneventfully, I showered, cleaned the house quickly and ended up in the kitchen. Okay, if I start the dinner prep now I can leave the chicken to marinade in the fridge and then just pull it out to cook when Davids here. I was feeling a lot more optimistic about David coming over. Maybe this would finally be the start of our relationship, no more texting and “Im sorry I couldn’t make it” calls. 

I started to cut the chicken on a matt into small pieces, the rice boiling happily on the cooker beside me before hearing a knock at the door. David looked tired, but not as tired as he had been during the case, this tired was a normal kind of tired, not the kind that made him look like he was about to drop any second. As David took off his jacket I returned back to cooking, I could hear his footsteps approaching me and within a few seconds he was behind me, leaning close to me to look over my shoulder at the food. The chicken was now cooking in a pan, mixed with the veggies and sauce. 

“I wont lie I could probably eat both of our portions right now” I felt a shiver run down my spine when David spoke, he was close enough that I felt his breath against the back of my ear. His hands were resting gently on my hips. I loved how easy it was to be around David despite the not so normal start we’d had. The over the phone, mostly at work and occasionally in between all of the above schedule we had seemed at first like it would never have worked but I could honestly say I was glad we’d stuck it out. The warmth of him behind me as I cooked our meal felt so right I couldn’t find anything to complain about. 

“Why don’t you set the table? It’ll be ready soon” I turned my head to meet Davids gaze a soft smile tugging at the sides of my lips.

“Sure” Just as David turned to go about the job I’d set I quickly grabbed his arm. He stopped to look at me a questioning look falling over his features. I didn’t leave him waiting long before I reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek, teasingly close to his lips. As I pulled away I swore I could see the surprise on Davids face before he smiled and went to set the table. Yes I could get used to this feeling.

The food smelt and looked thankfully as good as it tasted, I poured two glasses of water while David was already happily digging into his food. 

“Do they forget to feed you?” 

“You have no idea” He spoke quickly before going back to his food.  I smiled looking at David, ti had been so long since I’d had the opportunity to just look at him. At the department he was so rushed recently and working out regularly left very little time to fully appreciate the seemingly perfect angles of his jaw or his blue eyes that turned a stormy grey when the lighting was right.

“You’re staring”

“Huh?” I quickly meet Davids gaze, realising that he’d stopped eating and was looking at me with a small smirk. “Sorry, it’s just…I kinda missed looking at you, I haven’t really had the opportunity” I felt heat rise to my cheeks and quickly looked down at my plate.

“I know, I feel the same. I was surprised you didn’t notice me staring the other day”

“You were?”

“Yeah, you were at your desk and had this pencil hanging out of your mouth and you looked like your computer had just asked you to single handedly solve its coding, you were just so in your own world, you didn’t even notice anyone else around you, you looked pretty” David held my gaze but I could see the slight embarrassment at his confession etching over his features, he put his fork down and sighed. “I know this hasn’t been great, this whole relationship thing between us. I wanted it to be better than this but I just couldn’t think of anything but the case, I don’t normally get so involved but those girls…they need someone like me to spend too much time looking for leads and not enough time on his new girlfriend, who was well within her rights to leave me, I wouldn’t have blamed you”

“I wouldn’t have left you David. I know how hard this had been, I saw the paperwork. I don’t blame you for not paying attention to me, I couldn’t, I like you for who you are and if that includes your dedication to your work then so be it” a smile spread across Davids face and I let one spread across mine too and for a moment we did just look like two fools in love.