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kimchikrust · 2 months

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She Rocks the Ball 1.0 an addition to Act on Heavenly Principles (x katsuki)

“Another year, another red carpet,” Denki breathes, glancing out the tinted windows. There are photographers, interviewers, and dedicated fans lining the entrance to the venue, waiting in anticipation for their celebrity heroes to appear.

Katsuki gets his grumbling out in the car before he plans on going silent for the rest of the night. It’s their fourth annual Hero’s Ball since graduating high school and earning their license, and it’s turned into a night Katsuki dreads every year. It was an evening of small talk, dreadful music, and small portions, but at least he had his friends.

Katsuki and his friends were in the top hero class in high school. They were big fish in a small pond then, but now, there were other, bigger fish in an ocean of talented heroes. It only meant more stepping stones for Katsuki as he climbed the ranks. But that was the sole reason he grit his teeth and attended the ball: the new rankings announced for the year. His spot in the top ten solidified for another year until he can rise higher.

“Alright, you animals,” Eijirou announces at the front of the limo. “They’re almost ready for us.”

Katsuki and his friends attended the same as they did the year before and the year before that. Five heroes together, an unofficial team often seen together by the public, climbing out of the back of a limo like a clown car.

“Big smile, hothead,” Mina antagonizes Katsuki with a grin. She’s dressed beautifully in a sponsored gown and glittering hair accessory for the event. “Gonna need a babysitter?”

“Fuck off, Shido,” he mumbles with no real heat, adjusting his collar for the twentieth time.

It was Katsuki’s turn to escort Mina into the event. The past few years, the other fellas in their group of friends walked with her. It started when Eijirou wanted to escort her to the first ball as friends. The following year, Denki wanted a turn. Last year, Sero walked her in, and Mina’s been pleading with Katsuki to take her since.

Soon enough, the door popped open, and Eijirou climbed out first. Sero and Denki followed suit, and Katsuki went after them. Like a gentleman, he faced Mina and took her hand as she stepped out in heels, and he could hear the roar of approval from the fans behind him.

Lights flashed and blinded him as he guided Mina’s hand to rest on his arm while walking her up the carpet. Katsuki wasn’t smiling; he tried his hardest not to grimace at the flashing assault. But Mina was smiling enough for the both of them, satisfied to walk with her friend into the event.

“This is so much fun,” Mina gushed, hugging Katsuki’s arm tight, which he allowed on the premise that she was his friend. No one else would have dared, especially with the constipated expression he had no control over.

“How are you two this evening?” An interviewer stopped Mina to ask, expertly avoiding any shutdown from Katsuki.

“So far, so good,” Mina jokes, glancing up with bright eyes at Katsuki’s stoicism. She was completely unfazed by his attitude, and that’s precisely why he had no problem escorting her.

“Escorted by the final member of the Bakusquad,” the interview sets up with buttered enthusiasm. “What will you do next year?”

“Well, we’ll get to it when we get to it,” Mina brushes off through clenched teeth. As the only woman in their close group, she often complained the most about the bullshit questions the news always had for her.

The interviewer nervously faces Katsuki, forced to look up from under his towering figure.

“What about you, Dynamight? Any theories on the rankings this time around?”

Mina digs her nails into Katsuki’s arm, and he holds back any reaction to it. The petty brat Mina is, taking out her frustration on her friend than the asshole interviewer.

“I don’t, but Pinky does,” Katsuki grits out politely enough. “She’s been yapping our ears off lately on what she thinks each of our ranks will be.”

“Yes! I had to look up a few charts for their stats online,” Mina admits sheepishly, preparing herself for a rant on the rankings for this year. As attractive and feminine as Mina was to the public, she was just as obsessed with the rankings as he and the guys.

Katsuki tunes out what he’s heard from Mina three times over at this point and briefly scans over the entrance to the venue. Izuku and Ochako are there as a couple, occupied by the photographers and giggling quietly between each other. Eijirou and Sero are taking interviews together while Denki interacts with fans.

Other former classmates are there, too; Shoto Todoroki attended with his older brother, but Katsuki can’t remember the frost user's name. The rest are nameless idiots he couldn’t remember if he’d met before.

His eyes land on you last. He had no idea you were there or that the Commission had even invited you, but you fit like the missing piece of a puzzle. You’re wearing a beautiful gown that reveals the skin on your back and the delicacy of your collarbone. Katsuki can faintly make out faded scars in the exposed areas – a demonstration of pride for your job.

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he thought you looked beautiful. You weren’t speaking to anyone or in the scope of the paparazzi but striding right into the venue. You weren’t smiling or appeared to enjoy the event as you marched past the interviewers and fans.

“Dynamight, what are your thoughts on the American Hero, Sentinel?” The interview’s voice finally reaches Katsuki’s ears, and a glare casts over his face.

“What does it matter? She’s just another low-level hero down in the ranks,” he says without thought. A natural response from the fan-favorite hero, Dynamight, and the interviewer couldn’t look more pleased.

By the time Katsuki was making his way inside, it felt like hours had passed. He and Mina had regrouped with the other three men and decided their dining table would be the ‘base’ for the rest of the night.

The reserved table that Eijirou had graciously bought for them still catered to two other nameless heroes and their dates, and the others were kind enough to make conversation during the meal. Katsuki ate silently, responding when his friends brought him into conversation and dozed off in boredom.

When Mina excused herself to the bathroom, taking Denki with her for the ‘trip,’ and Eijirou left to serve himself more food, Katsuki took on people-watching with Sero.

“That man is almost twice the age of his date,” Sero comments as he glances at another table for Katsuki to notice.

The blond casually looks over and confirms Sero’s claim.

“I think that’s one of the members of the Commission Board,” Katsuki laughs indignantly.

Sero grimaces and massages the crease between his brows. “Man, are you serious? That’s disgusting.”

Katsuki doesn’t get a chance to respond as your reappearance derails his train of thought.

You’re leaning over another board member’s shoulder, talking into his ear sternly. Your face read all business, and Katsuki wondered if you were attending the ball or working it.

The man waves you off, and Katsuki watches the flicker of anger in your eyes before you accept defeat and walk away.

“Scoping out the competition?” Sero says in a playful tone.

“She’s not competition,” Katsuki mumbles irritably. “She’s not even on my radar.”

“Then why do your eyes linger?” Sero presses, leaning back in his chair.

“They do not-”

“Oh, look, she’s walking this way. Excuse me- Hi!” Sero’s fat hand slaps over Katsuki’s mouth as you’re flagged down and notice them. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Cellophane, but please call me Hanta.” Both men rise as you approach them, and Sero extends his hand forward.

“I’ve seen your work before,” you nod in acknowledgment, accepting his handshake like a tycoon. “It’s nice to see you as well, Lord Dynamight.”

Sero stifles a laugh as he glances at Katsuki, desperately craving to poke the bear.

Katsuki breathes patiently before saying, “Just Dynamight is fine.” He doesn’t miss the wink you send Sero, which has Katsuki’s friend busting out in laughter and holding his stomach.

“Are you both enjoying your evening?” You sound like a host catering to patrons, so Katsuki is urged to ask.

Sero beats him to it.

“You don’t look to be. How come you’re not seated anywhere?”

You sigh tiredly before smiling. “I’m working the event as security. The board thought it was a better idea than outrightedly attending.”

Both men frowned and glanced at one another, thinking the same thing.

“Well, that seems odd, but we’re glad you could still make it.” Katsuki fights the instinct to roll his eyes as his friend speaks for him.

“Yeah, it’s grueling, but work is work,” you say enthusiastically. Pivoting your hip out, you reveal a little radio attached to your dress. “I even got my radio now.” You look up at Katsuki, and he feels his ears grow hot.

The last time he saw you, you didn’t have your radio yet, and your reference made it sound like a secret joke only he understood.

“Anyways, it was nice meeting you,” you say to Sero as you take a departing step. “They need me in another area, but have fun for me.”

“I’ll go with you,” Katsuki says, grabbing his jacket from his seat and making Sero’s eyes bulge. “Shit’s boring anyways.”

“Hey, rude,” Sero comments, placing his hand over his chest. “You’re just gonna ditch me?”

“It’s really okay, sir,” you side with Sero. “Please, stay and enjoy your event.”

“Nah, I’ve got a few questions for you. Keep doing your job. I’ll do what I want.”

You hesitate, glancing at Sero briefly before your radio earpiece grabs your attention.

“Forgive me. Enjoy the evening,” you tell Sero before walking with haste in the opposite direction.

Katsuki doesn’t falter, falling into step behind you, and you don’t bother glancing back to see if he’s following.

a/n: hehe only pt 1 bc pt 2 is still wip 👀 & special shoutout to my new moot @hinatas-gym-sock 💗

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #act on heavenly principles fic #my writing

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kimchikrust · 2 months

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So yummy, this had me GAGGED. My heart was pulling in all directions 🧭

THE 1 — GOJO SATORU

“and if my wishes came true, it would've been you.”

exbf!gojo x gn!reader, hurt + very little comfort, one suggestive misunderstanding, alcohol, reader has long hair, here again with my ex!gojo bullshit bc drunk dial was not enough for me apparently

gojo breaks up with you right in the middle of your senior year in high school.

it's nothing like those scenes from those rom-com movies you used to watch through hushed giggles and loud squeals, back when you'd cover your eyes with your hands and peek through your fingers during the passionate kisses and apologies—there's no rain, no swelling music with dramatic violin, no indication of the mixed emotions he's feeling.

honestly, the worst part about it is that you see it coming. you don’t feel surprise or shock when he tells you that it’s over, only an emptiness that digs at your chest; it’s a feeling you’ve felt before (like when you got a grade you weren’t happy with or when your parents yelled at you for screwing up a simple chore) but it’s nothing you’ve felt before because it feels like your heart is squeezing so tight it might burst and you can’t breathe, and then all of a sudden, you’re begging him not to do this, not to you, not right now.

it’s embarrassing in hindsight, knowing just how much you cry and just how raw your voice comes out through blubbering sobs, but even though his eyes are red and he’s trembling under his hoodie, he remains unmoving, like a child unprepared to fight a dragon.

all of the random belongings that you’d stashed in his room over the years end up in a tote bag he sets on your front porch, and he removes your story highlight on his instagram just an hour later—he waits three days before he takes your initials off his bio though, because of course he does, because of course he wants his followers and internet stalkers to speculate and stew on his relationship status.

well fine, you think, fuck you too. you leave your pictures up for a little longer, just to spite him.

shoko tells you that it's better this way. it used to be really awkward, she admits, watching you two fight over the smallest things during your free period, sitting in uncomfortable silence as you dished out your personal affairs in front of the whole friend group.

geto confesses that gojo looks happier now. he perks up more at the things that used to interest him, his cheesy grin makes its way onto his face more often, his hair is fluffier, his clothes are less wrinkled, his eyes are brighter, and he’s just…better.

without you.

you have to clarify if that's what he means, and even though geto's eyes widen in panic and he immediately backtracks, just a glance at your ex-boyfriend gives you the answer his friend is too much of a coward to say; it's obvious to everyone that your relationship had been beyond repair for months, but you still care for him, and you like seeing him happy (even if it means not seeing him at all), so you pretend it doesn't affect you.

it's that uneasy feeling of knowing someone and not knowing them, the precarious ache you finally recognize when you see him playfully flirting with other people, knowing that the two of you used to talk about marriage and what the house would like with your future salaries after college, but you move on, as everyone does.

(not that any of it would've mattered; you would've been content with anywhere he wanted to go, anything he wanted to do, anybody he wanted to be, as long as he brought you with him.)

the next time you talk to him is during your sophomore year of college. it's like he waited for you to forget all about him before he reappears in the crowded lecture hall where your humanities class takes place, and when you feel the presence of a tall man slide into a chair two spots away from you, you realize that the guy with white hair and blue eyes is the same one that dumped you two years ago.

it's painstakingly awkward when he realizes what he's done (he makes a noise in unwitting surprise), but he quickly covers it up with an ill-fitted glance and hesitant dismay, moving to speak anyways.

you find out two things that day.

1.) gojo is a different person than he was in high school.

he always used to be that guy, even in elementary, the one who got picked first amongst the raised hands and wilted heads during kickball, the one who teachers used as an example for other kids to look up to, the one who lived for other people instead of himself, but he carries himself differently now. he's quieter, you think —softer, even— donning muted blues that match his eyes, a large sweater covering the lank of the muscles of his arm.

2.) even though his voice is deeper than it used to be, it makes your heart flutter all the same.

you exchange pleasant formalities with him and say your goodbyes as quickly as possible after the class ends, and whether it's to escape the awkward situation or to hide the fact that your heart is palpitating far faster than usual doesn't matter, and you really shouldn't be thinking about gojo satoru.

…still though, once you catch your breath in a new seat for your new class, you find yourself opening your phone under the dim lights of the auditorium. you type in his instagram handle like it’s second nature (it might as well be), biting your bottom lip as you press his profile. he’s privated now, with far fewer followers than he had in high school—you begin to wonder if he’s blocked everybody he didn’t care about after graduation like he always said he would, but the red notification in the corner of your screen catches your eye first.

go.satoru has requested to follow you. confirm | delete | 40s

the confirmation button is blue.

(blue like the sweater he wore today, like the detergent you smelled when he shifted ever so slightly, his arm leaning against the fold-up table as he stared nervously at you.)

after a moment of hesitation, you press it.

gojo slips into your life rather easily after that. you’re hesitant at first, but you’ve always been weak to him, so it really was only a matter of time before you let him back in.

you never used to mind it that much—being weak, you mean—gojo was always strong enough for the both of you until you had to hold yourself up on your own. maybe that’s where your relationship failed, with your endless urge to depend on his incessant need to be depended on.

he was always there, though, there to pick your broken pieces back up, scraping his own bloodied fingers against the broken glass of your psyche, painstakingly gluing the mirror of your soul back together. it came easy to him, like most things did, like a gingerbread house filled with icing and peppermint candy, decorating the driveway with gumdrops and sprinkles, sugary sweet, like his heart— warm and soft, like a home.

it hurts because you could've cultivated your love into a house if you'd just tried harder, but the brick needed patience, the heating needed communication, he needed a steady hand to support yours as he piped the icing, and you lacked everything when you were children.

(it was idiotic to think you could've anyways, children were never meant to build their own homes.)

but really, who's to say that exes can't be friends?

he's shy at first, he starts with small smiles directed vaguely in your direction when he comes in late to the lectures once again, and then it's a chirpy "hi!" or "good morning!", and then, one day, he brings in an awkward smile and two coffee cups, one in each hand.

it's the same coffee order you used to get when you were younger, but even if you've grown out of the high-energy cappuccinos, you still accept it.

you can love and value somebody you used to date, you rationalize—you're more than aware of your self-destructive habits, and his aura is next to you but never beside you, so it doesn't matter that you laugh a little harder than you need to when he makes fun of your professor's bald spot, and you don't care when he stares at you with that incredulous smile of his, his lips curved into a smirk before his eyes soften ever so slightly when they meet yours.

and then the end-of-semester party comes.

it's a blur of a lot of big mistakes and bad alcohol, but somehow, your hand finds his, grasping onto his pinky and dragging him away from the crowd of bodies that distract him. you pull him to a private bathroom, pawing at the rolled-up sleeves of the unbuttoned hawaiian shirt he wears.

he's confused the second your skin touches his (it feels familiar, the kind of feeling that feels just out of his grasp, ghosting and teasing at his memories), and honestly, he thinks you might just make out with him if you're feeling messy enough, but then you kneel down on the floor.

his face turns red as he finds your half-lidded eyes staring up at him with desperation, your pearly whites barely peeking through the pink fat in your lips as you grasp at his pants.

"need you—" you mumble, "need you to stay—"

"oh, nonono," he panics, "not when you’re drunk—"

your head whips to the right, and he stares in horror as you throw up right into the toilet bowl.

and then it finally clicks for him.

oh, shit.

he hesitantly crouches down, his fingers wrapping around your hair and sweeping back your bangs as you hurl your alcohol, clutching the porcelain for dear life.

he swallows to calm himself down, grimacing as you finish emptying out your stomach.

“…here,” he gently maneuvers your shoulders to lean against the tiled wall, “do you need water? i can go get some.”

you shake your head rapidly, your eyes closed as your nose scrunches up in defiance.

like a bunny, he thinks.

he likes bunnies.

he stands up from his kneeled position, dusting off his jeans before he moves to unlock the door on a mission to find a drink that isn't alcohol, but your voice calls out to him again.

“s'toru,” you slur his name—his first name, he realizes, “’m sorry.”

for what? what could you be sorry for?

“don't move, okay?” he replies, a small smile on his face, “i'll come back as soon as i can.”

gojo ends up staying next to you for the rest of the night.

“parties just aren't for me,” he shrugs, cocking his head to the side, “the guys there were starting to piss me off anyways.”

“yeah?” your eyes peer up, leaning forward as you teeter next to him, “what were they doing?”

“they kept talking about greek life—hazing and alcohol or whatever,” he scoffs, “like seriously, if i have to hear about kids prancing around in made-up wolf packs ever again, i’m cutting my eardrums out myself!"

you giggle at the joke. it’s refreshing, like the wisp of the breeze that blows through your hair, like the cratered moon that shines light on the sidewalk as he helps you stumble to your dorm.

“what were you, um, sorry about?” his voice cuts through the night air, “in the bathroom, when you were shitfaced.”

“you’re a real charmer, aren’t you?” you smile drunkenly, poking his shoulder in glee. he rolls his eyes in faux annoyance, the humor ever-so-present in his blue eyes, but he opts out of your question and remains silent.

your smile falters at his lack of response, and you look ahead down the path. “i was sorry i had to make you leave,” you say innocently, “didn’t really know anyone else, but i shouldn’t have dragged you away. i should’ve handled it myself.”

…right,” he nods, “it’s fine if you rely on people, you know, i really—”

“satoru.” you give him a pointed glare, to which he goes back to focusing on getting you home safely.

“for what it’s worth,” his footsteps clatter far louder on the sidewalk than he’d like, “i’m sorry too.”

“really?” you snort as you reach your dorm building, the small patch of grass lining the front porch, “about what?”

“for not being there when you needed me.”

this is the danger of thinking about satoru, because just like that, he's suddenly all you can think about.

you’re already halfway up the steps before you turn back to him—he’s wrapped in the moonlight itself, shining and reflecting like the radiant star that you know he is, and you step back behind the shadow the brick casts.

“you were here today.” you acknowledge quietly, “that has to count for something.”

“you had to find me.”

“i dunno,” you play dumb, “not many people would leave a party to help their ex throw up in a toilet for an hour.”

for the first time in a while, gojo wears his heart on his sleeve.

“i didn't hate it, y’know.” he crosses his arm, his eyes flitting to the ground, “it wasn't fun or enjoyable by any means, but i didn't hate it.”

a beat passes, and he looks back up to see you staring directly at him. you clutch the railing on the stairs, and you ask your final question for the night.

“why?”

he thinks (something he rarely does), before he continues softly, "because you asked. you asked me to stay, and i’d do anything you wanted.”

gojo called himself many things in the time he spent in your life.

“stranger” turned into “classmate” when he spotted you in the back of ms. hideka's math classroom, left in awe as you taught him how to use the graphing function on the calculator, and “classmate” upgraded to “friend” when he asked you to ditch school with him. “friend” became “lover” after years of push-and-pull, and finally, "lovers" became "stranger" during your last year in high school.

who knows what “strangers” might become? could become? do strangers answer each other’s beck and call? do strangers cradle the heart of the other in their palms, waiting in a standstill to see what the other one does?

you bite the inside of your cheek. bravery (or liquid courage?) flows to your fingertips, and like a child unprepared to face a dragon, you grit your teeth.

“you were it for me, y'know.” you blurt out, your voice cracking against your will.

there’s a visible hitch in his breath, a clench in his jaw, badly-disguised anguish hidden and cemented into his skin.

his voice is airy, barely louder than a whisper. “you were it for me too.”

it takes you a second to process his words, your crumpled expression completely unable to hide the agony you feel. it takes you a second, but you nod anyways, swallowing the lump in your throat with the tears that sting at your eyes.

(you nod in acceptance, you think. for closure.)

“...hey, (y/n)?” he waits out to call to you when your back is faced to him, your hand placed on the doorway and your right shoe half off—his tone soft enough to melt the marshmallow strings that pull at your heart, hidden behind layers of the brick crackers (tough, but brittle to the right thing), “don't be a stranger.”

what does it mean to be a stranger? a part of you grieves the fact that you don’t know if his favorite color is still blue (baby blue, not the darker tones, even if he looks better in it), the idea that all your memories with him are just that, the notion that you won’t know what interior designs he prefers for his future house.

your head turns around, just enough to peer back to the man that waits for your answer at the bottom of your front porch.

like your own prince charming, you think.

you’ve always liked prince charming.

“good night, satoru.”

your smile is barely there (you wonder if his hugs feel the same—if his thumb would brush over your cheek as he coos pretty nothings into your ear like he used to), but he smiles back anyways.

he'd always smile for you, he thinks.

“good night.”

i’ve realized that i've been relying a lot on my dialogue lately, and i feel like my writing has been super jumpy bc of that, so i did my best to incorporate as little dialogue as possible so i could focus on everything else. hopefully it worked out ahsjshshs

#gojo x reader #gojo angst #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo angst #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo fic rec

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kimchikrust · 2 months

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ACT ON HEAVENLY PRINCIPLES cross-posted on ao3

You're a new hero in Japan. A transfer from the US, Katsuki is convinced you're untrustworthy. There's something not right about you, and he'll be the one to figure it out.

SHE'S BREAKING NEWS

SHE ROCKS THE BALL PT 1

SHE ROCKS THE BALL PT 2

#katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #act on heavenly principles masterlist #my writing

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kimchikrust · 2 months

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covers for @bokunocalendar 💕

#i love them #this is so cute #bnha #mha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijiro #midoriya izuku #mina ashido #uraraka ochacho #iida tenya #todoroki shouto

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kimchikrust · 2 months

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everyone on twitter has been posting a bunch of their favorite ship dynamics

here’s mine:

#felt this

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kimchikrust · 2 months

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#seriously #im doing my best #thanks for being patient

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kimchikrust · 2 months

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Who is Raziel?

Raziel was a sinner, arriving in the Pride Ring after her time on Earth as a warmongering sovereign.

Unhappy with her status, Raziel took to Lilith, earning her grace and attention as a chaotic neutral force, slaughtering powerful demons in the Queen's name.

Blessed with power and status, Raziel earned the title of a horseman for the King and Queen, a bloodthirsty war maiden enacting their will – with special privileges to move between rings and cross into the living world as she pleases.

As influential as the seven sins, Raziel is known as the "Eye of Satan" throughout the rings, as she reports significant events back to Lucifer. (That short king mf loves tea time with Raziel; all the juicy gossip she gets between power dynamics in the rings and trash 666news bullshit.)

Lilith assigned Raziel as her protector when Princess Charlie was a young child.

Appearance

As a sinner, Raziel manifested into Hell as a humanoid. She loosely resembles a low-status imp with red skin, a pointed snout, and large curled horns. Despite that, Raziel is a taller-than-average female demon, around 7 feet tall. She has voluminous white hair, similar to a lion's mane.

With her updated powers from the King of Hell himself, Raziel's dragon-like characteristics are accentuated with a vast, scaly tail, massive claws, and wide-span wings – an embellishment to her time as a ruthless queen in her human life. Her eyes are also sharper, black with yellow sclera. Like all demons, she has sharp teeth and an offputting smile.

Raziel's casual, everyday wardrobe consists of a black button-up layered with a red formal vest and wide-leg black pants. Her wings, tail, and horns are exposed to convey her influence within the rings.

Friends

Asmodeus, Fizzarolli, Charlie, Hazbin Hotel, I.M.P Company, Beezlebub, Stolas

Enemies

Valentino, Velvette, Vox, Heaven/Angels

#my sideblog #helluva boss oc #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #I loved Hazbin hotel #then I watched helluva boss #I have so many emotions for these characters

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kimchikrust · 2 months

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She's Breaking News

Lately, you’ve been on the news, and while Katsuki wouldn’t typically care, your recent popularity affects him more than he’d like.

You’re rising in the ranks quickly for a newly licensed Pro. Up-and-coming rookie, and a woman on top of that, so the whole region knows about your masked persona. Unfortunately for Katsuki, you’re fast approaching the top ten and coming after his spot in the top five.

He can tell you're formidable from the footage of your endeavors released to the public, and if this were high school, he’d be demanding to spar and test your skills.

But you didn’t attend UA; you’re a transfer from North America. You held no torch for the citizens of Japan. Your position was merely a job that took you away from home. So why was Katsuki fuming over the latest front page in the paper?

FOREIGN HERO, HERE TO STAY

Katsuki had yet to work with you on any assignments. His job as a more seasoned residential hero was to remain on-call at all times and begin developing relationships with others – networking for a longstanding career as a Pro. He didn’t plan to ever cross paths with you.

“Why are you such a hater, Kat?” Eijirou sighs heavily one day. They were sharing an elevator, and Eijirou brought you up. Katsuki rolls his eyes in a display of exhaust.

“She’s a shiny new hero for the fanatics to fixate on,” the explosion hero grumbles, unable to mask his bitterness. “She ain’t that impressive.”

“We’ve watched the same footage,” Eijirou points out with a smile dancing over his lips. “She’s efficient and packs a punch. I think I read that she’s on the shorter side too; you can’t tell from the pictures-”

“I couldn’t care less, Eiji,” Katsuki murmurs, rubbing his palm over his face and breathing in relief at the elevator’s final chime.

They called you the Sentinel in the States, and your moniker followed you to Japan. The Sentinel, Katsuki harrumphed. Did he consider your hero name ironic – a shorter-than-average American woman considered a soldier to Japan?

“What a joke,” Katsuki said as he watched your recent battle play on the screen over the bar.

“Sorry, Kachan,” Izuku panted, colliding into the counter in a rush. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Yeah, but don’t sweat it,” he grumbled, sipping his fruity horoyoi can. “You come from work?”

“How’d you know?” Izuku bashfully scratched the back of his head as he slid onto his reserved stool.

“You’re still wearing your boots.” Katsuki glanced down at the massive accessories on his friend’s feet with an amused glint. Izuku’s face grew bright red at the realization.

“Oh, wow. That’s embarrassing.”

Katsuki pondered, waiting for Izuku to settle into his seat and order his drink. “How was she?”

“How was who? Ochako?” Ochako was Izuku’s partner since their days at UA. Izuku’s favorite pastime was fanboying over his Pro-Hero girlfriend, but sometimes his efforts were overzealous.

“No, you crazy bastard,” Katsuki chastised. “Sentinel. You fought with her today, didn’t you?”

Izuku looks at him curiously. “I didn’t really fight with her. They called us both in, but she handled the situation alone. Handled it well, if I’m being honest.”

Katsuki hummed in displeasure, and his childhood friend saw it for what it was.

“I heard from Kirishima that you’re holding a grudge against her,” Izuku mentioned innocently. “From what I can tell, she doesn’t care too much about the rankings.”

“Doesn’t matter. The woman is still rising in the ranks like she could give a fuck, and that’s a threat to my number one spot.”

“Not yours yet, Kachan,” Izuku muses, graciously accepting his drink from the bartender. “There are other contenders you should be more worried about.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki couldn’t bite back his smile as he cut a glance at his old friend’s chipper expression. “You threatening me, shrimp?”

“I certainly won’t make it easy for you.” Izuku shrugs, taking a sip from his drink.

They called you the Dimension Hero after you released information on your quirk to the public. It was in an interview that the Hero Commission set up, linking your appearance to their credit. A nameless interviewer innocently asked the details of her power, only to discover another trait Japan could love about you.

From the footage of your battles throughout your career, Katsuki made connections to your quirk and fighting style. You fought with constructs for the most part. When you activate your quirk in battle, your body glows a soft purple – an excess of power drawn from ‘another dimension’ (a tidbit that sparked a lively audience amidst the public).

“Like I’m stupid enough to believe that,” Katsuki mumbled after watching the interview.

You revealed that drawing power from this pocket dimension gave you an upper hand against opponents. With the ability to access a seemingly unlimited energy source, Katsuki couldn’t fathom the drawbacks of your quirk.

It sounded like bullshit.

The first time he meets you, it’s after witnessing your quirk in action. Katsuki, in his hero suit, spectates from the rooftops while you’re pursuing a villain.

While you’ve had your Pro-Hero license for a while, you were still new to the landscape in Japan. That much is evident to Katsuki when you lose the villain in the unfamiliar industrial terrain. He could’ve left the job to you, let you lose the suspect, and taken a hit to your popularity. But it didn’t feel right to leave you scrambling. Katsuki’s job as a Pro was to help people, and he took his career seriously.

It’s easy for a resident hero to navigate the streets, quickly taking a shortcut to cut off the villain. The suspect unfortunately doesn’t realize he’s trapped – too fearful of the woman on his tail – and Katsuki takes the opportunity to fire at his feet, sending the man flying into the side of the building.

Katsuki waits as the man takes one look at him, standing tall and menacing in his costume, and rightfully surrenders.

“Your first smart decision today,” he says with an amused huff, preparing himself for meeting you.

“You got him,” you pant in pleasant surprise when you arrive at the scene. You look at him in exhausted awe and breathe, “Awesome.”

Awesome? He rolls his eyes as your resemblance to his moronic friends is uncanny.

You eye the culprit sitting on the ground and look around. “Where’s the other one?” Katsuki frowns. Wasn’t there only one?

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and his instincts roared in the back of his conscience. There’s a figure taking advantage of his lax state and attacking from behind, and there’s no time for Katsuki to dodge, so he prepares himself to take a hit.

Before it landed, a hole ripped through the air before Katsuki and the accomplice fell in with a panicked cry. By the wall, a second hole reveals the suspect flying out against the concrete, successfully incapacitating him.

“Thanks for the assist,” you say sincerely to the Explosion Hero.

“No problem,” Katsuki murmurs, casting his eyes down.

When you don’t say anything in response, he decides to introduce himself – as a coworker.

“I’m Dynamight.” He watches your eyes shine your signature purple and conjure cuffs on the beaten-down criminals.

“I know,” you laugh gently, scratching the back of your arm as you stretch it over your chest. “Your friends admire you a lot.”

Exchanging words with you for the first time didn’t turn out as Katsuki imagined. His ears glowing bright red, his palms sweating, and he’s a flustered wreck.

“Those idiots,” he mumbles with a growl, halfheartedly cussing out Eijirou’s big mouth. “Don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“So, you’re not the hater?” You ask him dryly, and Katsuki can understand your sarcasm. “You can tell your friends I’m grateful the high and mighty helped me today.”

“Tell them yourself,” Katsuki retorts, crossing his gauntlets over his chest. “I suspect they like you more than me at this point.”

You only smile in jest. “Can you blame them?”

Your fluency in Japanese is laughable, but the enthusiasm is there, Katsuki notes. He watches as you pull out your phone and tap away at it while two suspects are in custody before you.

“Shouldn’t you be taking these guys in?” he remarks, nodding in their direction.

“I’m looking up the nearest station. I don’t have the best sense of direction in newer areas.”

“Radio dispatch,” he says, because it’s protocol, and you should know that by now.

You sigh in frustration as if you’ve explained yourself several times before.

“I haven’t received a radio yet. I think it involves some hazing from people in the Commission,” you say passively, pocketing your phone once you’ve pinned the location. “But it doesn’t matter because I don’t need it.”

“What ar-”

You don’t wait for Katsuki to understand before clasping your hands together in a prayer. In the next second, a vast hole rips open again, and Katsuki can’t make out what’s on the other side – like a purple-tinted mirror that reflects what’s in front of it. You don’t waste time to grab the men and shove them through with aggression.

“I can handle filing the report, and I won’t forget to mention Lord Explosion God Dynamight made his appearance,” you tell him, stepping towards the portal. There’s a playful smile on your lips, and Katsuki can’t know if you’re joking. “I’ll see you around.”

You step through, and you and the portal disappear like you were never there with him.

He still doesn’t know much about you, and if anything, that interaction only confused him more. But he knows you must have looked him up to call him his official hero title.

He finishes the rest of his patrol without issue, wondering what he’d find the news saying next.

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