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crqelsummer · 1 year

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home + hearth [tododeku]

Title: home and hearth Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Pairing(s): Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto Character(s): Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: another unnecessary kid fic! Language: English Archive Warnings: None Rating: Gen

Published: 2023-02-16. Word Count: 5,718. Chapters: 1/1

Summary: izuku's working late. shouto needs a bedtime story. how i met (fell in love with) your father with the baby of the midoriya family.

AO3 LINK

They’re up way too late for the seven year old that lays across his lap without a trouble in the world, the small body that rests her head against his leg warming ever so slightly as she shifts again. Her Quirk is activating off and on the sleepier she gets. He brushes a strand of scarlet hair out of her face, the artificial light of the television drowning out her pale skin. The clock blinks back an angry red 10:00 pm at him. Over an hour past her bedtime, and he knows she’s going to be drowsy tomorrow if he doesn’t get her off to sleep soon.

Another news broadcast plays, the dull reporting about to lull him off to sleep. A lot of the children’s shows had gone off already for the night, and keeping her in bed without her dad home seemed near impossible. He’d bathed her, sat with her for a bit while they read out of one of her new chapter books. Kimiko had seemed tired when he laid her down to sleep, shutting off the main light and making sure the night light bathed the room in gold. He’d barely finished cleaning the kitchen, putting Izuku’s bowl away in the fridge and slumping down on the couch when he’d realized he’d heard her door open again. She’d bounded back into the living room, blanket trailing behind her with the puppy eyes he can only attribute to Izuku’s genes. He’d almost protested, wanted to tell her to get back in bed and get some sleep. But he couldn’t find the strength to, his shoulder already giving him trouble and rest of his body sore from an early shift. So, he had opened an arm to let her crawl into his embrace. She’d talked about school, about heroes, about whatever Makoto and Takato had gotten up to lately. He’d responded with as much understanding as he could, though found most child politics quite confusing. An hour had ticked by while they’d watched the late broadcast, covering a minor villain attack. He’d thought Izuku would be home by now, hopefully at his side rather than running off and saving as many people as he could. He’d never ended up making it back home after Shouto had gone home for the day to pick Kimiko up from school.

Where he figures there should be bitterness, he finds little. He’d known who he married, and it hadn’t bothered him when they were twenty two and coming home to their tiny apartment with more scrapes than their rubbing alcohol could handle. The quiet tender moments in the bathroom as he dabbed away at new cuts that ran perpendicular to Izuku’s old scars. The more hurried ones, Izuku’s trembling hands stitching him together the best he could when it was all they had. It hadn’t bothered him when they’d considered settling down properly, after all Izuku had just hit number one and had a responsibility to Japan now to be the shining example. He’d wait up for him most nights except for the days when he’d been called in early, but was plenty pleased to wake to his scarred husband clinging onto him in the early morning hours.

Any residual bitterness dissipates almost immediately.

He looks down at the little one in his lap, her slow blinking giving away her tiredness. She rubs at her eye with a fist, curled up underneath a small children’s blanket with the faded embroidery of All Might in the corner. Her rose red hair is splayed against his legs like a fan, long fallen out of the braid that his steady hands had done before she’d run off to school this morning. It’s getting long again, but she doesn’t seem to mind this time around.

He remembers having a moment of unbridled fear of the threads of hair when he’d first seen her, the day she was born. It reminded Shouto too much of him, too much of Enji all at once. He wondered at that moment what her Quirk would be (would she even have one?), pyrokinesis? Could he even deal with that? And then he caught himself thinking about it too long while his hand had a thin layer of frost over it and Izuku was already about to start crying to his left. Her olive green eyes had at least put him at relative ease, when she’d really started registering the world properly a little while later. He started seeing more of Izuku in her as she grew, the years passing them by. Even if his husband was convinced she was taking after him in every aspect but her face.

Speaking of him, Izuku carries another civilian out with a smile on screen, face dusted with soot but eyes shining beneath it. Something in him flickers to light, a small smile of his own ghosting over his face. Kimiko sits up a little, leaning her tiny form against his side now, and he looks down at her as well. Her toothy grin makes his heart squeeze in on itself, “Daddy!”

“Yes,” He responds, pulling her a little closer, “Still not your favorite?”

She thinks on this for a moment, small eyebrows knit in thought with a tiny finger to her chin. She looks back up at him, a mischievous look peering through her dark eyelashes, “No, I still like Uravity more!”

Shouto thinks he can make a guess why Uravity is her favorite, her favorite color being the blush colored pink that all of her merch donned. The pink shoes that she’d almost worn a hole through before she outgrew them recently, the pink jumper she wore everywhere with the almost completely faded embroidery of Uravity across the chest. The visor that she’d gotten once for a costume that had been worn so often he was afraid the plastic would shatter. That and how she’d exclaimed one day that the martial arts Ochako employed on screen was something she was going to learn to do and for sure use it against every bully ever. Izuku had of course quietly and swiftly told her not to, he didn’t want her getting into any trouble, but that he’d look into putting her into some martial arts classes after the school year was over.

He and Izuku had taken the loss with grace when it’d been announced earlier this year. He thinks. Quietly he wonders why, her dad’s were first and third in popularity rankings, but Kimiko is also seven and certainly doesn’t care for old rivalries that had long fizzled out by the time she was born. Amused, Izuku had commented he was glad it wasn’t Katsuki at least. Izuku hadn’t known what he going to do if that ended up being the case.

“Your daddy is number one though, you know.” He says, mostly teasing as he gently tickles her with one hand. She giggles to his left, something akin to I know on her lips as she laughs, “Did I ever tell you how I met your dad though?”

She looks up at him, viridescent eyes wide with curiosity. Probably wouldn’t be the best bedtime story, but is one of the few ones he knows that wouldn’t make her worry. Shouto hadn’t yet showed her that fateful sports festival clip, he hadn’t seen much reason to when she could catch whatever hero she wanted daily, but he remembers it fondly. Kimiko shakes her head, “When?”

He leans back a little, thinking about how to frame it, “Well, a long time ago —”

“A really long time ago?”

“Twenty one years ago, in fact,” He responds, momentarily feeling a little old. Her surprised face certainly gives away that she thinks that was so long ago`, “Your dad was a classmate of mine in our first year of high school. We weren’t friends just yet, I was still getting to know him and adjusting to school. He was smart, analytical —”

“An-a-li-tical?” Kimiko sounds out the word in a tinier, inexperienced voice.

He notes his mistake, recognizing she doesn’t understand it, “It means he knew a lot and how to apply all of that knowledge.”

“Oh.” Is all she says, and he watches as the cogs turn in her head, not dissimilar to watching Izuku do the same. Filing the definition away for later, “Then what happened?”

“Well,” Shouto realizes he should probably omit the conversation he’d had with his father during the festival. Then figures he should probably omit his troubles with his father and family troubles to his seven year old. That was something that could be discussed at a later date, a very later date, even if it did remove crucial context in his opinion, “I used to only use the ice part of my Quirk. It was easier for me to draw on, easier for me to work with. I did that for a very long time. I was satisfied with it until our first sports festival. Do you remember the sports festival from earlier this year?”

She nods vigorously, “Misato was in it!”

Misato, the dark haired niece of his that had done well for herself in her own first year festival. Kimiko and Izuku had been glued to the TV for most of it, Izuku noting the students he could scout and Kimiko getting excited whenever her dad did even if she didn’t understand what was going on. Shouto hadn’t watched most of it, he’d been responding to a call during the first two rounds, but had gotten away long enough to watch Misato’s final fight with one of her classmates. She hadn’t won, but it had been something he was understandably impressed by, “That’s right. But I also had a festival like that.”

“Did you win?” She tilts her head in question.

“No. Your uncle, Katsuki, he won first place that year. I was second.”

“Did you win next year?”

“No. Your dad won that year.” Shouto remembers that one like it was yesterday, that time he’d gotten third, surprising even to him, but Katsuki and Izuku had gotten to fight fairly on a proper stage. It was less tense than he would’ve imagined, watching after his fight with Katsuki. He was impressed, it was almost like was watching two completely different students than the constantly brawling ones from the year prior. They certainly weren’t restrained, the full capabilities of One For All at Izuku’s fingertips as he dove and twisted around Katsuki’s attacks. He also wasn’t about to hold back against the successor, not to be outdone by someone else. Izuku’s fumbling knowledge about One For All at the time had definitely held him back and made the victory well earned in the end when his opponent had been properly defeated. Katsuki had been understandably angered about it, but he seemed more revved up than actually bothered by it. Or at least, when they were trading insults later in the day it still seemed mostly lighthearted. He definitely remembers when he’d complimented Izuku afterwards, expressing that he’d enjoyed watching it.

Izuku had turned a color closer to crimson when he’d said it, and made up an excuse about having to go and talk to Recovery Girl. Shouto had pointed out he hadn’t broken any fingers this year (another welcome surprise), why did he feel the need to go? And Izuku had left him behind in the hall, stammering a string of apologies. Turning to Kimiko now, aging almost twenty years, “He fought your uncle Katsuki that year.”

“Did you win third year?”

That he definitely remembers, having actually beaten Katsuki for the second spot. The other boy hadn’t certainly not been very amused by this, considering how Eijiro had to hold him back afterwards — but he had been surprisingly pleasant later about how he’d beat him fair and square. It’d left Shouto very suspicious, Katsuki had gone from first to third place in three years consecutively and knowing his explosive personality he imagined he wasn’t taking it well, but nothing ever came of it. His and Izuku’s second time fighting during the Sports Festival, this time nothing but good intentions between the two. A silent promise not to hurt each other to the point of real injury again, but everything else was all fair game. They’d both pushed their limits far beyond where they should’ve gone but it had felt so good to let loose. He didn’t have the necessary precision to really use his fire as well as his ice even then, but Izuku had a habit of removing his mental barriers to it. He was more afraid to hurt him, burn the only friend he really had. But the stadium had faded away halfway through, forgetting about everyone else and only seeing the boy ahead of him. A scrappy dance around the concrete beneath them, ice protecting him from his air based attacks and his flames enough to keep Izuku back so he could get in a few close-combat hits. He’d managed to hold his own against One For All for long enough, something that even stunned him in the heat of the moment. But, predictably perhaps, Izuku had won. His control was admirable, with all of the Quirks he harbored within him, and Shouto had been stunned into silence afterwards. Shoved outside the bounds of play with a string of apologies when they were no longer adversaries, Shouto had almost burst into flames afterwards for an entirely different reason that year when Izuku had complimented him back, “No, your dad won that year too.”

“Dad’s really strong.” Kimiko seems to think about this a little more, somehow her tiny mind wrapping around the concept as she yawns again. A toothy grin, “That’s why he’s number one!”

“Indeed,” Shouto says, gaze flickering back to the news station. A flash of green, and he’s gone again, away from the camera’s attention. He can’t believe it was that long ago, really. That many years ago and he hadn’t been able to put a name to his feelings until the end of their third year, armed with chocolate he had almost begged Fuyumi to help him with. He thinks Izuku was lucky he wasn’t born with a fire quirk, because the red he turned would’ve surely lit him and his uniform on fire. Shouto smiles at the memory. They’d come so far since then, “But yes, my first year at UA. Your dad was my opponent in the second round.”

“You fought dad?” She seems incredulous by this, “That’s not very nice.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t,” He answers, thinking about all of the restrained emotions he’d been holding back that year. His intentions weren’t exactly the purest when he stepped in the ring, “Did you know that in that fight, your dad broke almost all of the fingers on his hand just keeping me back?”

Kimiko grasps her own tiny, unmarred fingers at this, gasping at the admission, “Really?”

“Yes,” Shouto still cringes at the image of the purple and blue digits barely able to even move during that fight. He still has so many questions how Izuku was even managing it at that point, ones he never exactly got answers to. He wonders if that’s when his admiration really started, with his physical and mental strength during that fight, “He was very determined. Even though his Quirk was hard to control, he pushed through it all.”

“Whoa.” Her amazement is something that is so precious to him. It’s something he’d have to tell his husband about when he got home.

He feels himself twitching into a frown regardless, recounting the fateful few minutes they were on the field together, “When I used my ice too much, it started to hurt me more than it was being useful. Like when you get too hot, I had gotten too cold. I hadn’t wanted to use my fire to counteract it because I didn’t know how. Didn’t want to use it because…”

He trails off at that. What does he tell a seven year old, one that has had admittedly little contact with her grandfather but still has some neutrally positive opinion of him? She waits on him to finish the story, playing with the end of her fraying sleeve. He shakes his head for a moment, trying to get rid of the thought and figure a way to frame it.

“I didn’t have good memories with it,” He admits, feeling her hand grow warm on his forearm when she places it there. Her way of comforting people, something she’d learned from him by accident. He smiles softly at the action, “Your dad cared though. Wanted to fight me properly, without holding myself back, and he saw me struggling with it. So, he told me it was my power. Mine and mine only.”

Shouto sits with the memory for a moment, flexing his fingers. Remembering Izuku’s pained and strained voice yelling out to him, unlocking that part of him to burst to out like the flames that had erupted along the right side of his body. At the time, it’d only been a flicker of surprise, of realizing that he could even manage it. Then —

“It’s your power, isn’t it?”

Staring directly at him, running on pure adrenaline with his extremities bruised and entirely incapable of even making a fist. The same green eyes that he stares at now, begging him to let go of it all and face him without restraint. An uncontrolled One For All brimming at his fingertips, knowing he’d lose when Shouto lit himself ablaze. And yet he’d done it anyway, and felt somehow proud of himself when he did. When Shouto had approached him later, asking him why, he hadn’t had a cohesive answer. With his actions the rest of the year, he can only imagine it was because Shouto was the first in a long line of people he wanted to save. And save him he had, in a way. Izuku was the sole reason he’d ever used his left side to begin with.

Where would he be without him?

He loves that man more than he can say. More than he can articulate properly. It had confused him when Izuku had put his own life on the line when Shouto had unleashed what at the time had been the full extent of his power, and scares him now when his husband still does it on the daily — but perhaps it’s just what makes him him.

His heart flutters a little. Shouto needs to show that clip to Kimiko when she’s a little older.

“And so I did. It was the first time I used my fire in a very long time, but your dad made me feel confident enough to use it again,” He carefully angles left hand away from Kimiko, far enough that when he lights a small flame in his palm she’s in no danger of burning herself. She’s transfixed on the the light, the small golden globe washing her features in red How much fear, how long had he lived with it to now be comfortable enough to show it to his own daughter? He’s grown, lived long enough to reassign another emotion to it. He doesn’t love it and still relies on his ice primarily, but instead of being distressed by it, he’s duly neutral.

Neutral was all he could ask for.

“You’re not scared of it anymore?” She asks, voice light and unaware of the emotional turmoil that had occurred. Had he been too afraid to use it, had Izuku lost to Hitoshi the round prior…Shouto really doesn’t think his path to healing would’ve begun as quickly as it did without his interference.

“No. It’s apart of me as much as the other half of my Quirk,” He answers. It’s the truth when he says it, even as a wave of old anxiety washes over him as he admits it. She reaches out with a small hand, and he stiffens, afraid but she’s too quick. Her tiny fingers leap to touch and he extinguishes it as soon as one of her fingers touches it, “Kimiko!”

She shrinks back, a sad expression taking over her surprise. The momentary paternal terror washes away when he reaches for her hand, his own trembling and quick, but confused when he doesn’t see red skin or a welt beginning on the edge of her index where most of the flame had licked her. Kimiko must catch his expression, her voice low and barely loud enough for him to catch, “Didn’t hurt, felt funny.”

“Felt…funny?” He asks, carefully brushing a hand over her head, “Did you touch it?”

She nods. He hadn’t imagined that part then. And she came away unscathed them.

He doesn’t know what to do next. Shouto blue screens for a moment, thinking, thinking. His curiosity gets the better of him, even as it feels like his nerves are shot. He adjusts his shoulder enough to face her a little, carefully lighting another tiny column of fire in his palm. Barely bigger than a candle as he looks her directly in her eyes, his own voice struggling to stay calm, “You’re being honest?”

Her eyes widen at it again, but she nods vigorously. He reaches out with his free hand to push her free curls back out of her face. Even if his hypothesis is correct, he doesn’t want to put her through the experience of lighting her hair on fire too. She meets his eyes, and then looks back down. He takes a breath, “Then…you can touch it again.”

Her mouth opens to a little oh, as she unfurls a small fist, first reaching out with her index. Shouto’s holding in a breath that he can barely breathe around, watching her pale finger grow ever closer. He’s ready to extinguish it and run for the first aid kit at the first sign of fear. Hold her close if she cries, like his own younger self would’ve wanted. And yet, her yelp of pain never comes, as she makes contact with it. The red and orange engulf the digit, flickering around it. Then in her curiosity, more fingers. Almost the entirety of her hand. Kimiko giggles at the touch of it.

Shouto breathes, extinguishing it. He knew her Quirk allowed her to raise her body temperature just under what he thinks is boiling, but he hadn’t guessed that she inherited the ability to be immune to fire. He’s surprised. In a good way, he thinks. If she hadn’t scared him first.

Her amusement at the flames makes him feel some sort of way that he can’t name. He’d only had fear of them at her age, most of them at the hands of his father. They represented something dangerous, something to be terrified of. A punishment, a representation of everything that had frankly traumatized him as a child. A part of him that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how much he tried to ignore it and shove it down into the recesses of his mind. And yet, there’s wonder in her eyes. Not any alarm or panic. He at least had avoided scaring her with it, a whole other can of worms he’s glad he hasn’t accidentally opened for her.

He’s okay with this, he thinks. His child is unafraid of fire. A new development. A welcome one.

He thinks.

The tight band around his chest loosens. She yawns again, the TV still rolling. It’s 10:30. He’s beginning to think she may be able to miss just one day tomorrow, she certainly wouldn’t argue with it. Leaning back into the couch, he pulls one of the bigger blankets off the other sofa with his good arm. Wincing, he scoops Kimiko up in his other arm, laying her against his chest. She wriggles into him, obviously getting herself comfortable as he drapes the blanket over the two of them. Kimiko shifts ever so slightly to his right, likely just for the cooling properties. He yawns himself, protectively laying one arm over her smaller body and muting the TV, “We’ll just wait here until your dad gets home, okay?” He asks. Shouto gets no response, noting Kimiko’s breathing has already evened out to her usual sleep pattern. Out cold then, with only the childhood ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere without a care in the world.

He watches as the broadcast silently goes to commercial, another inane product being the last thing he sees before darkness overtakes him.

Izuku is so late.

He knows he’s late too, racing home as quick as he can. He didn’t even bother changing out his hero costume, hurriedly tossing his day clothes into his duffle bag and booking it out the door with a request over his shoulder to one of his sidekicks to lock up for the night. He didn’t even wait for an answer before he headed for his car.

He didn’t think it’d take this long. One call after another. Logically he thinks he could’ve let some of the other heroes take one or the other, but he just felt better and safer about it being there wherever anyone needed help. Mirio had also been on scene already, along with Nejire so he really does think the two of them could’ve handled the earlier incident (a robbery with two decently powered criminals) by themselves, but he imagines their capturing and clean up had gone smoother with him there. That’s what he wants to think, at least when they’d thanked him before he ran off the next call.

It wasn’t until the media had gotten there, noting it was a late night broadcast when he’d been helping an older man out of the now-no-longer-burning-building that he even thought about what time it was. He’d noted the darkening sky over his shoulder and almost cursed on live TV before putting a bright, if not strained, smile on his face to speak to the reporter for a few minutes. Very, very long minutes. He hopes his answers were even a little camera appropriate because he was on auto-pilot, thinking about the fact he’d entirely forgotten…well everything today.

The villain had been apprehended, people saved, media placated for the time being. As soon, and he means as soon as the cameras were switched off, he was gone. Already on the way back to his agency to pick up his keys and clothes and headed right back out the door. Shouto had left hours earlier to get Kimiko from school, and he’d not-quite-lied that he’d be right behind him after he finished up some paperwork.

Damn it.

He’s a safe driver, he reminds himself as he just barely pushes the speed limit down the darker streets of Musutafu. It wouldn’t do anyone good if the number one was caught speeding.

But he’s also missed dinner, something Kimiko hates and Shouto seconds before telling her that her daddy’s a very busy man sometimes. The way his brows furrow in disappointment sometimes is not lost on him, as much as Shouto tries to make his own emotions scarce. Izuku always makes time for dinner except in the most emergency situations. And yet he let himself get taken away again, and done exactly that. He’d only scarfed down a protein bar between now and when he slammed into the office, he hasn’t eaten much if anything at all today other than lunch he’d shared with his husband. He’d forgone breakfast because Shouto hadn’t been home and Kimiko needed to be taken in to school.

A headache’s already lurking in the shadows when he turns onto his street.

He just almost trips getting out of the car, narrowly saving himself when his hand catches a wall. Sighing, he quietly, carefully unlocks his front door, careful not to let it slam behind him as he takes off his boots and stores his duffel in the corner. He shoves his keys in his pocket (which one he’ll certainly forget by tomorrow morning), and pads into the rest of the house. It’s dark and nearly silent as he tries to make his way around the entry hallway, only muscle memory saving him from running another appendage into a wall.

The TV is still on, as he can see the light flashing onto the wall in front of it. Reaching the end of the hall, he finds it playing the broadcast from earlier. A rerun probably. Shouto must’ve accidentally left it on.

Starting to look for the remote, he pauses before smiling softly and stopping just before the TV.

His husband and daughter are fast asleep, the latter clenching her father’s sweater in her fists and drooling onto it. Shouto isn’t much better, head lolled to the side ever so slightly and hair a mess as it fans out on the headrest. Still, he holds her close as they slumber underneath one of their newer blankets, the All Might one he’d pulled out of storage for their daughter long forgotten on the other side of it.

A pang of guilt hits him. Shouto must’ve been waiting up for him. Kimiko joined him at some point and he hadn’t put her back to bed. He hopes he hadn’t worried his husband too much, how long had they been up together?

He’s in the moral dilemma of whether or not he should wake Shouto so they can put Kimiko in a proper bed. He knows for a fact Shouto is going to complain about his shoulder in the morning if he leaves him like this.

But they’re so cute, the other half of his brain reasons, what’s the harm?

In the end, Izuku settles for a quick photo instead. Then, ever so carefully he gently taps Shouto’s shoulder as he carefully sits on the edge of the couch next to the pair of them. Shouto’s a notoriously light sleeper, so Izuku’s unsurprised when his eyes flash open. They dart around for a moment before looking to him, then looking down at their daughter, then back at him. Izuku smiles sheepishly, speaking in barely a whisper, “Evening.”

Shouto blinks a few times, reaching his free hand up to rub at his eye, “Did you just get home?” He asks, tone quiet and far less accusatory than Izuku thinks he deserves.

“Yeah. A couple of minutes ago actually.” 11:15 blinks back at him when he looks at their clock on the wall, “I’m sorry, how long were the two of you up?”

“Maybe until 10:30. Kimiko got back up because you weren’t home,” He responds. That answers that question then. There’s a small smile on his expression, “I told her the story of our first sports festival as a bedtime story. She seemed quite proud of you towards the end.”

Izuku is a bit bewildered, but chuckles lowly. He flexes his misaligned fingers at the thought, then looking to her. That isn’t exactly the word he’d use, “Proud of me? Did you tell her I broke almost all of my fingers?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t leave out how I egged you on to basically win the match?”

“I did not.”

“Or how I took that losing fight?” He asks even more incredulously. Shouto nods. Well, color Izuku surprised, “Well. At least she’s a fan of fifteen year old me, even if she isn’t now.”

Shouto shakes his head, “You know she thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread, love.”

“But not since toilet paper, Ochako stole that spot from me right under my nose,” Izuku says sarcastically, leaning back into the couch himself. Oh this is dangerous, he can feel his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. He knew he was right when they bought a new couch a couple of years ago, “What made you do that?”

He shrugs, as much as he can with a child in his lap, “Inspired, perhaps. We were watching you all night, after all.”

“That’s fair then,” Still an odd subject for a bedtime story. The only one she’s really watched was this year’s, and that’s because her older cousin was in it. But if Shouto wanted to reminsce to their daughter, who was he to stop him? Regardless, he sleepily begins taking off some of the augmented parts of his gear. The gloves, the belt. He clumsily stands, narrowly avoiding a coffee table to the calf, and unzips the outer part of his suit and stepping out of it. Haphazardly putting them on the other side of the couch, he’s left in only his undersuit, leaning against Shouto’s shoulder with sigh of exhaustion. Oh yeah, he’s not making it up to Kimiko’s room to put her in bed. Nor is he making it to his own room to go to sleep. He reaches over carefully to tilt Shouto’s head down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips that Shouto leans into, “I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“It’s alright,” If even possible, his husband’s voice grows even softer at this, “I’m thinking since it’s Friday, we let Kimiko have the day off tomorrow. She’s going to be exhausted in the morning.”

“Mhm. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all,” Shouto’s left is so warm as he leans into it that he barely registers what the other man is asking. Or saying. He’s sure whatever decision he makes will be the right one. His husband shifts enough to that they’re leaning into each other, Izuku’s head on his shoulder as Shouto’s head is on top of his, “ ‘Love you, Shochan.”

Shouto makes some noise of agreement next to him, the slow tone betraying his own exhaustion, “I love you too, Izuku.”

A moment later, “Mmm. Forgot. Our daughter’s fireproof.”

Izuku blinks awake at that, momentarily forgetting his exhaustion as he lifts his head to look at Shouto with a bewildered expression. Shouto only puts his head back right where it was, patting his hair down when he rests his head atop it, “Tomorrow, love.”

Izuku.

Izuku doesn’t know how to take that but he supposes he’s going to sleep. He really wants to know how the two of them figured that out. Or maybe he doesn’t. He doesn’t know. He can’t be late home anymore if this is what it results in.

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ukiyoebirds · 11 months

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Nomuzawa! Specifically inspired by @nartothelar's design of Fumin and themes of choice in their nomuzawa comics.

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#nomu au #my hero academia #mha #mha aizawa #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #mha fanart #bnha fanart #references are life #I didn't use enough references imo but oh well #digital art #fanart of other people's art #my classic modus operandi #nomuzawa #nomu azawa #the hands are each pulling Fumin in different directions #Representing the different choices he can make and the choices that other's are trying to make for him #There's his past identity as aizawa #his current identity as Fumin #and a secret third option of who he could be in the future #surrounded by all this tension about does he go back to the league of villains or stay with presentation michael #he doesn't express much emotion beyond an intense blank stare #would you look at that #second time I've posted something not monkie kid related #And the style is different from what I usually do!#Must be a full moon or something #anyways check out nartothelar's comics for both nomuza and their pokemon one

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shih-coulda-had-it · 1 year

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you’re with me now, buddy!

#bnha #all might #yagi toshinori #deku #midoriya izuku #shih's art #deaged at dagobah au #i'm in the middle of regretting the number of manga panel redraws i doodled #so here's something bright and happy to take my mind off them #older brother toshi nii can be so real if you just believe...#(this does do something really weird with the future dynamic of mid50s all might #interacting with 16 year old izuku #because on the one hand you have dad might instincts reappearing #while on the other hand izuku is like. codeswitching between #little brother; successor and student; and SON)

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glucosegaurdian · 11 months

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Danny was tired. Tired of life. Tired of Death. Tired of Amity and how there was nothing to do.

Don’t get him wrong! The peace pact was the best thing to happen to this town, to this dimension, to him! No more random ghost fights for no good reason, no more protecting ghosts from scared and angry townspeople. It was, well, peaceful!

And he liked that, he really did! But after a couple hundred years of nothing to do but kingly duties, paperwork (courtesy of the stupid eyeballs) and the occasional friendly spar, he was tired of it all. He needed something different for a little bit. A couple years of excitement, a vacation from his boredom.

And he truly did need it. Being forever young and mildly ADHD was doing him no favors either in the boredom department.

He sighed.

He needed to expand his horizons… but… he had never really left America in all his years, had he? Sure there were a couple flyby’s but he had never set foot out of America… (the moon and other planets didn’t count he nodded to himself, floating at the idea of going on vacation)

He smiled to himself as he picked up his phone and called his sister/cousin/daughter. I wonder where in the multiverse she is….

Well, Danny reasoned with himself, it wouldn’t be a road-trip without my favorite little traveler. I wonder what Japan is like this time of year.. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to Toshinori…

#oldest hero danny au #danny phantom crossover #dp x bnha #amity park is weird #amity park works differently than rest of the world #wwcross’s oldest hero danny au gave me brain worms.#i will be obsessing over this for the foreseeable future #bnha #bnha x dp #mha x dp #dp x mha #ghost king au #ghost king danny #Continuation of my last oldest hero Danny au post

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xiaoming56 · 1 year

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Bonus:

Tsukauchi: So could you describe the villain for me?

Aizawa: he had blonde hair tied into a messy bun and had lots of sound related gear, his quirk is voice based and it was too dark to see his face clearly but i think he had a mustache and some sort of tattoo or marking on his face…healsohadveryprettyeyes.

Tsukauchi: what was that?

Aizawa: ahEm he had heterochromatic eyes.

MERRY XMASSSS!!! Heres my non xmas related gift to yall :D this comic doesn’t rly hav any plot cos it started as an action sequence prac but i promise i actually have sortof a plot for once :) hope yall enjoy!!!

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blooberrries · 4 months

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「 extemporaneous 」 — 06 ☾

— pairing: multi; shoto x reader, izuku x reader (so FAR...) — genre: hybrid au, slow burn-ish, reverse harem — wc: 3.8k — rated: sfw — notes: my stupid ass went to post this and then realised that I never actually crossposted chapter 5 on here. oopsies! uwu. anyway my libido has been popping off lately so if there is no smut in the next one then it will probs be the one after that teehee!

You've never really had much to do with hybrids, existing in your own little bubble for a majority of your life. That comes to an end when your friend phones you for help and somehow you end up taking two hybrids off of her hands while they recuperate in the wake of an unfortunate incident. But when the time comes that they have to leave, will you really want them to go?

⟵prev. || masterlist || next⟶

Things haven’t really been the same since that morning. From a ‘platonic roommate’ perspective, that isn’t something to be happy about.

From your perspective though, as someone very much attracted to her roommates and increasingly aware of the subtle tension brewing in the air between the three of you, there isn’t a single part of you that can find the will to complain about it.

Much deliberation occurred after you startled the two hybrids into checking on you that morning. You’d spent a majority of the ensuing shower with your forehead pressed to the tile, trying desperately to use the cool surface as a means of reducing the heat in your face. It didn’t work, and for once the scalding water temperature you normally enjoy bathing in wasn’t to blame.

You thought about a lot of things while you lingered in the glass and tile prison, spending much longer in there than you really needed to. At that point it was more for the sake of your sanity.

Try as you might, you could hardly stop yourself replaying the previous events, focusing on the flustered reactions of your company. You were so embarrassed, but that’s mostly on account of how riled up you’d gotten as a result. Every so often you had to take disciplinary action against your own brain for the recurring deviant thoughts and slam (read: hit hard enough that it sent the message but not hard enough your roommates came running again) your head against the wall with a groan.

Most problematic of your shower-time revelations is the fact that you can no longer ignore the attraction to your roommates that has been steadily building over their stay here. Actually, that’s a lie-- the most problematic revelation is how badly you want to act on that attraction.

This isn’t a work environment and they aren’t employees, but it feels almost unprofessional to have these feelings for the hybrids you are currently offering safe haven to. Then again, you remind yourself that they are both intelligent and consenting adults and have enough bodily autonomy to be able to refuse or accept any advances that may occur. Having said that, you would like to think that they wouldn’t feel pressured or obligated on account of living with you for free should any moves be made. Yet at the same time, you can’t be sure. There’s more unknowns than you’re comfortable with in this situation.

At the end of it all, you concluded that there’s not really anything you can do about the feelings at this point, but at the same time you’re not in a position to act on them.

Ah, an impasse. It’s as relieving as it is frustrating to have the luxury of choice taken from you.

You might have left that ensuite a different woman to when you entered, but that had nothing to do with the rapid shift that has occurred between you all since.

“Izuku…. Give it.”

His nose twitches, eyes bright and tracking your every movement with something indiscernible gleaming behind his irises. The laundry hamper stands as the only obstacle between you. Your hands are raised, an attempt to lower his guard by appearing harmless, but Izuku’s hawk-like gaze is locked on your stance as you gradually ease around the side of the woven basket towards him. He counters each tiny step you take with one of his own in the same direction, leaving you both in a stalemate of sorts.

“What do you mean?” Izuku asks innocently, his soft voice raising in pitch towards the end. He apparently finds this hilarious. Ordinarily you probably would too, but currently your shoulders are too heavy with the burden of an impending deadline for you to really enjoy his sudden cheeky manoeuvre.

“I’m just doing the washing. The hamper was getting full, you know?”

“I need that shirt, Izuku.” You decide to be direct, pointing at the button-down currently in his grasp. He plays with the material, ruffling the soft weave in his hand. His eyes flick only once down to the garment before returning o you.

“What shirt?”

Huffing, annoyed but more so endeared, you decide to play along for now. “The one in your hand, with the light grey dots. I need it. Could I please have it?”

He shoves it to his cheek, giving it a subtle sniff. His ears twitch, playful, as his forest-hued eyes bore into you and he clicks his tongue softly. “This? It’s dirty. Dirty clothes gotta go in the wash.”

Apparently not so dirty that it couldn’t touch his face, though. Your lips twitch with the urge to smile.

“Okay, true, but counter-point: I need it right now.” You might be allowed to dress like a slob on the days you’re working from home but that doesn’t mean you can stay dressed like that for any zoom meetings that might pop up – like the one scheduled for an hour from now.

As much as you’re enjoying this, you’re actually expecting Izuku to cave any second now and hand the shirt over.

So it comes as a surprise when one of his dark brows lift, his lids lower, and he says with a curling simper, “What will you give me for it?”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“If you need it so bad, what will you give me for it?” Izuku shakes his head, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he clicks his tongue again. “You’re throwing a wrench in my laundry plans here, Yona. Gotta make it worth my while now the groove has been interrupted.”

He is being so uncharacteristically bold, with such ease, that the only conclusion you can draw is that this is in fact in character for him, just a part of it you’ve yet to encounter.

The realisation makes a flurry of paper-thin wings flutter against your insides. A warm shiver flushes up your arms.

“You’re holding my shirt hostage?!” A laugh tumbles from you before you can stop it. “I’m not gonna reinforce negative habits, no matter how cute you are. Hand it over, buddy.”

You might have thought Izuku would balk, but if anything he seems thrilled at your response. A hand flies to his chest. “Is this what you think of me, Yona? How cruel. I was going to be nice and give it to you but now I have to stand by my initial offer and demand something in exchange.”

You attempt to round the hamper again, taking a step to the right. He takes a step to the left. You are back where you started. This won’t do. Your eyes pin to the shirt, and his gaze follows. A few long, loaded seconds pass by.

“… What do you want?”

Something absolutely devious catches the light in his eyes. His fingers tap against the bunched up material of the shirt. “It’s nothing much.”

“Mhmm. Okay then, what is it?”

“Really, it’s just something small.”’

Your eyes narrow as you pin him with a suspicious look. You’re no longer sure you want to let him lead this negotiation.

“Uh-huh. Okay. Well how about--”

You don’t finish what you’re saying, instead putting all your energy into your legs and lunging at the poor hybrid, attempting to take him by surprise and grab the shirt before he can realise your intention.

“Yona!”

Izuku, like any respectable prey animal would, saw your moves coming from a while away. Unsurprisingly, this gives him a head start as he pivots on his heel and darts away with a delighted laugh.

The little jerk is quick, you’ll give him that, but you’re also not too out of practice with your own cardio. You chase him through a decent portion of the apartment, down hallways and around corners and crying out “Cheating! That’s cheating!” when the hybrid leaps with unfettered grace and sheer athleticism over the couch.

Surprisingly, at some point amongst the laughter and aching limbs, you manage to snatch the shirt. The feeling of victory is brief, though. Izuku immediately takes this as a personal affront and like a classic Tom & Jerry skit you quickly become the one being chased.

“You’re being unreasonable!” you say, yelping inbetween breathless giggles as his fingers graze the skin of your waist. Shit, that was close. Considering he’s a rabbit, he’s way better at chasing than he is at being chased. You skid around a corner and bolt for the hallway that houses the bedrooms. If you can get into your room quick enough, you might just be able to close the door in time to shut him out.

Possibly.

“I’m not the reason negotiations broke down!” Izuku’s ears flop with each bounding step he takes, his eyes bright with mischief and face flushed in slight exertion. You hate how the glimpse of him you see over your shoulder makes your own face heat even more and your gut clench.

A retort is just forming on your tongue when a door opens ahead of you, Shoto’s curious face and one broad shoulder peeking out from behind the doorframe. His mismatched eyes are quick to assess the situation.

“Shoto!” you cry, sending him a look that you hope comes across as pleading and not desperate. “Help!”

He blinks, a lazy smile beginning to tug his lips by the corners, as you bound his way. You think with relief that at least one of the hybrids is on your side. Shoto’s arm shoots out, but instead of stopping the rabbit hot on your heels like you anticipated, it winds around your waist, muscle thick and unforgiving.

“Shoto!” you squawk, your feet dangling as the hybrid winds his other arm around your waist and yanks you from the hallway, your back flush against his chest. “Traitor! I trusted you.”

“Not sure why,” he humms, voice a hypnotic dulcet lull in your ear. He has you lifted so that your eyes are almost even, and he takes the opportunity to nuzzle wherever he can reach, nosing along the column of your neck and below your ear. A shiver rolls down your spine before you can stop it.

“Nice, Sho,” Izuku beams, coming to a stop right before you. A soft thudding noise guides your eyes to the floor, where they catch sight of the hybrids foot thumping against the wood as fast as it physically can. Odd, but somehow terribly cute.

“Finally.”

The rabbit hybrid ignores the shirt still clutched in your grasp and pretty much dives into your neck, nose dragging along the side left empty of Shoto’s own ministrations. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest, and you can’t help but squeak as the single drop of sweat that has formed and begun to slide down your neck is quickly swiped up by his tongue.

You gotta get out of here before you actually explode– your skin feels so flushed you’re sure you have to be only a degree or so away from spontaneous human combustion.

“Are you serious?” you whine, but your worlds tumble into a laugh at the end. Shoto’s hair is beginning to tickle the hell out of you. “You held my shirt hostage because you needed to top up on your scenting? Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Because you’re impatient and tried to steal the shirt before I could,” Izuku snickers, pulling back with a devious grin. You’re so unused to seeing it on his face that it makes your heart skip an actual beat. “I guess you can have it now though. You said you needed it right?”

Oh shit, that’s right.

“Oops, yeah, I do,” you say, beginning to wriggle out of Shoto’s hold. Somewhat reluctantly, he allows you to return to the floor, but his hands remain glued to your hips. “I have a zoom meeting in like half an hour and have to look presentable at least from the waist up.”

Izuku sniffs, sensing this abrupt playtime has now run its course. “Boooo.”

Shoto might have allowed your feet back on the floor, but that didn’t mean he had given up on making sure every square inch of your neck and shoulder carried whatever unique scent he gave off. He suddenly pauses as his nose crosses your pulse point, sniffing softly. Your entire body flushes in response.

“Hm. You smell a little different, Yona.”

Taking his moment of consideration as an opportunity to escape, you slip as gracefully as you can out of his arms. It’s actually a wonder you’re not insulted or embarrassed anymore at the mention of your “smell”. Your brows scrunch a little as you meet his puzzled gaze. “I do? Is it, like… in a bad way?”

“No.” Shoto shakes his head, already reaching for you to pull you back into his arms for round two. You smack his hand gently, your own head now shaking with a smile. He sends you the most criminal ‘kicked puppy’ eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Keep your paws to yourself, sir. I gotta go put this on and finish up some work before the meeting.” You’re already beginning to walk backwards in the direction of your room. They both have the audacity to look kind of bummed, so you bite back a smile and offer instead, “We can cuddle on the couch after I’m finished and watch that anime you guys have been talking about…?”

“Deal,” Shoto says, before Izuku can even blink. The smaller hybrid is then grasped by the shirt and yanked unceremoniously in the bedroom, a meaningful look sent his way when he gives Shoto a questioning glance. “We’ll wait until then. Have fun in the meeting.”

You roll your eyes at the teasing lilt in his tone. He knows you won’t have fun, considering it’s been scheduled for going over some truly tedious training modules. “Sure. See you guys again in like three hours.”

They look a little suspicious, you note as you retreat to your room. You catch sight of them whispering amongst themselves, before they disappear from your view and leave you stewing in your own curiosity.

Man, sometimes you hate working from home. Those two are walking the walking incarnation of temptation.

You find out three days later why you would have smelt different to the heightened senses of your hybrid roommates.

Mother nature has come calling with a bloody fist banging on your door.

You’re a little wary of this cycle, if only because you opted to skip your last one and historically whenever you do that the next one you actually allow to happen arrives with some nasty cramps. You’ve actually already called in sick from work since a migraine has begun to form, along with the typical aches you experience on the first day or so. You desperately crave a coffee too, but know from unfortunate experience that having one is literally the worst idea right now.

The house is quiet, enough so that as you step slowly from your room you think the other two are still asleep. You spent the last three days in the office, which is a little unusual since most of your work occurs from home, and both hybrids have expressed varying degrees of disappointment that you have to spend so much time out of the house.

(It’s endearing that they seem to miss you when you’re gone, but you haven’t told them that.)

A sound behind you has you absolutely jumping out of your skin, ripping you from your thoughts as you spin around with a hand to your galloping heart.

“Yona,” Izuku whines, something hot shooting up your spine at the timbre of his voice as he does so. His hands are clutched together, clothing rumpled and hair somehow even more wild and disrupted than usual. He looks like he quite literally leapt from the sheets the second he heard you awake. “I know this is selfish to ask, but do you really have to leave for work again today?”

You look up to meet his beseeching gaze, allowing a moment for your heart rate to return to normal before responding.

Another rumbling, sleep-addled voice reaches your ears before you can do so. Shoto comes up behind Izuku, ears flicking atop his head as he rubs his eye. Your heart skips a beat at the sight they present, all mussed up and in varying degrees of disarray.

Behave, you have to scold yourself internally. You’re no better than an animal, honestly. Maybe you can pin it on hormones since they’re already making things so miserable for you right now.

“Just so you know, Yona, I am not above bribery, whatever it will take for you to work from home instead of—“ Shoto halts suddenly, heavily-lidded eyes flinging open in alarm. He abruptly surges forward, eyes scanning you from head to toe and hands already reaching out.

“Wait, you’re— Yona, why are you bleeding?!”

“Woah, woah, calm down, I’m okay!” You have to physically grab Shoto’s hands to stop him patting down your body like you’ve just walked through airport security and tripped the scanner. Izuku is quick to dart over with an equally alarmed expression. “I’m not hurt or anything, it’s just the monthly usual. I haven’t had one in a while, so you couldn’t have known, but I should have mentioned it so you weren’t so surprised. I’m sorry.”

You watch as the tension visibly leaves their bodies and they sag in relief. You are immediately gathered into the canine hybrid’s arms, the soothing scent of his conditioner allowing your own muscles to relax.

“Don’t do that again,” he scolds you, but there’s no heat to it. Not like you can actually help it anyway. He buries his face in your hair, a hand coming up to thread through the strands. Izuku’s own hands reach out to rub up and down your back from where he stands. “Thought you were dying, or something.”

Izuku snorts. “Like we wouldn’t notice it if she hurt herself badly enough to bleed like that.”

He pauses, then sniffs the air, face still twisted in concern. “Still, that’s a lot of blood… are you okay? Is that normal?”

“Unfortunately,” you answer, wishing not for the first time that wasn’t the case. Your voice is slightly muffled by the firm muscle of Shoto’s chest. “It’ll be done in a couple days or so, though.”

Shoto suddenly pulls back, thick brows drawn close and eyes pinning you with a look that somehow crosses the realms of both bossy and pouty. You gulp.

“You can’t go to work like this,” he says. It isn’t a question, more like a justification for something he is no doubt about to suggest.

“Already called in sick.” You give him finger guns and a wink, proud of yourself for the bare minimum in this moment.

Izuku’s entire face lights up at your words, and Shoto needs no further prompting to begin herding you into the closest bedroom, that being the one you see him leave most often.

“Wait, I was going out of my room to grab some painkillers–“

“We’ll take care of that,” Izuku hums, winding an arm through yours and pressing his cheek to the side of your head, before slipping away to retrieve said medication. You feel bad about them doing it for you, but you are quite literally too deep in the room at this point to stop them or argue back.

Despite knowing it is, in fact, a bedroom that belongs to you in a way, it feels odd to enter now. It’s no longer your territory, so to speak, so the fact that they are so willingly inviting you in means a lot.

Definitely wouldn’t be complaining if they were bringing me in here for other reasons either— you beat that thought back with a steel bat, cursing the horny monster that has recently taken up residence in the gutters of your brain.

Shoto comes to a stop at the foot of the bed and releases you, turning a critical eye to the mattress and all that sits atop it. The bed is roughly made with a fluffy comforter, and has a generous number of pillows scattered across the surface, including one in the shape of a peach. It looks wonderfully inviting, and you itch to be seated. Shoto wrinkles his nose, and you amend that observation; apparently something is lacking.

He holds your bicep with one hand and points at you with the other. “Stay here.”

You nod, amused, and watch as he leaves the room with cool, swift strides, face neutral. You have to close your eyes in order to summon the strength not to laugh.

His tail was wagging so fast it was practically a blur.

The two of them return at about the same time, Izuku with a suprise item (hot tea) and strip of tablets and Shoto with every single pillow you think you have ever owned piled up in his arms. You decide not to comment, and gratefully take Izukus offered goods as Shoto tears into the bed in an effort to get it ‘up to par’.

“Okay, it’s ready – get in.”

A few minutes later has you turning to take in Bed: Version 2.0. Your eyebrows shoot up at how he actually managed to fit most of the pillows on there while still making it look comfortable. Some pillows didn’t make the cut apparently, the peach one being one of them. That makes you kind of sad.

Shoto stands expectantly to the side, hand grasping the cover and keeping it pulled back for you. Izuku’s foot rapidly thumps on the floor before he is scurrying over to the other side and giving you a similar look of anticipation to his companion.

You can’t bite back the smile that breaks on your face as you follow their instructions and climb in, nestling right in the centre. Izuku dives in beside you, careful not to disrupt your drink on the bedside table, and winds his arm around you. The heat coming off them is incredibly pleasant, and you almost think you might not need a heat pack later after all.

Shoto pauses before climbing in, pointing at you with a tilt of his head. “Speak now if there is anything else you need to do, because I am feeling severely touch-starved and I don’t plan on stopping this cuddle session until at least one of us is asleep or three hours have passed.”

You snort, and his lips twitch. “I can’t guarantee I won’t have to get up at some point during that time but I otherwise agree to those terms.”

Shoto nods, apparently pleased with your cooperation and willingness to be a human teddy bear for the better part of the day, and proceeds to imitate Izuku by climbing into bed and clinging onto you like a koala.

“Excellent,” he rumbles, a pleased sound coming from his chest. “We have an alliance, then.”

Well, that’s what he said, but you can only pray he remembered agreeing to let you up when you need the bathroom later. Sleep Shoto is an entirely different breed.

The second the painkillers begin to kick in, you are drifting off to sleep again. Warmth, comfort and safety carry you into a dreamless slumber.

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lance-space-mommy · 1 month

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Cleaning Out The Refridgerator

Izuku never knew a life without his mother. It was always Inko and Izuku against the world. Izuku never once met his father Hisashi and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Inko was everything Izuku needed and without her being at the forefront of his life, he’d never become the person he was. It was all thanks to his mother.

Inko died at the age of sixty. It was out of the blue and she had died of a heart attack. Izuku was only thirty-five. The day he got the call his mother had died was the worst day of his life.

His hero work kept him busy and he rarely got days off. Whenever Izuku managed to get the time, he’d always have dinner dates with his mother. It was clear Inko had appreciated those little moments together.

They’d cook together, catch up on life, and just cuddle for hours. They felt like the time they shared always slipped away and those moments felt so short even if they spent the whole day together.

Izuku and Katsuki got married at the young age of 20. They didn’t want to waste a moment and desired to experience all life had to offer.

When they were sixteen, they watched the other die. They knew how fragile and short life could be. Death was promised and they wanted to enjoy the life they had left.

Holidays and celebrations were always a grand event. Inko and Mitsuki would often hang out together, but having their family members join them for a party was an exhilarating experience. Every day, every moment, was lived to the fullest.

Izuku could say there was so much more he wished he could have experienced with his mother, but he was satisfied with the time he did have with his mother.

It didn’t make things any better, but having no regrets was something that made Izuku grieve his loss without any guilt laced with it. Izuku could miss the amazing woman Inko was and miss his perfect mother.

For months, Izuku was inconsolable. Katsuki did everything in his power to help Izuku through Inko’s death, but he couldn’t imagine the pain Izuku was going through. Katsuki loved Inko dearly, but he didn’t know what it was like to lose his mother. Katsuki didn’t even want to imagine a life without Mitsuki.

It was a random Friday when Mitsuki had invited Izuku over to have some tea and talk. It was nice to just talk to someone who cherished Inko just as much.

Mitsuki was crying, hugging Izuku. “I ran out of her pickled daikon radish! I don’t know what to do!”

Izuku paused, feeling something click in his mind. Even if Inko was no longer with him, there was something she did that no random person in the world could mimic. Inko’s cooking and baking were inimitable. The only person on the planet who could make Inko’s recipe was Izuku.

Izuku pulled back, his hands resting on Mitsuki’s shoulders. “I’ll make you some!”

Mitsuki’s eyes widen, blinking away her tears in surprise. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Yes, I’d love to make it for you,” reassured Izuku, his face filled with an excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Mitsuki seemed to melt, relief flooding her. “Thank you, Izuku. I can’t wait to taste it!”

Izuku grinned, quickly hugging Mitsuki again. “You won’t be able to tell I made it, trust me.”

The next day rolled around and a beautiful Saturday greeted Izuku. Izuku threw himself up and took over the kitchen. The windows were opened and the morning breeze lulled Izuku into a peaceful rhythm.

The sunlight warmed his skin, matching the warmth his heart felt while making the same food Inko happily prepared him when he was a child.

Katsuki walked over and instantly spotted the mess. Shaking his head with a small smile, Katuski made his way over. Wrapping his arms around Izuku’s waist, Katsuki pressed a tender kiss to Izuku’s temple. “What are you getting into?”

“Just cleaning out the fridge,” fibbed Izuku, knowing Katsuki wasn’t going to buy it.

“Sure and I’m not your husband,” remarked Katsuki, giving Izuku a gentle squeeze.

Izuku sat down the knife before turning around to hug Katsuki. “I’m making some pickled radish for your mother.”

Katsuki paused before a look of recognition crossed his face. “She’s probably over the moon knowing you can keep supplying her addiction. She’s obsessed with Inko’s pickled food for as long as I remember.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe I was so depressed I forgot that I can remake all the foods my mom made by heart,” chuckled Izuku, snuggling into Katsuki’s secure hold.

“Anything I can do to help?” questioned Katsuki, knowing the answer was going to be no, but he wanted to check anyway.

Izuku shook his head before pecking Katsuki on the lips. “Nope. This is quick and easy to make.”

Katsuki nodded before releasing Izuku. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Within thirty minutes, Katsuki heard a loud thumping in the kitchen. Rushing out, Katsuki watched as Izuku jumped in place, filled with excitement as he was chewing. Katsuki sank in relief upon witnessing the childlike joy written in Izuku’s expression and bouncing.

Izuku spotted Katsuki staring and quickly shoved the pickled radish into Katsuki’s mouth. Katsuki immediately could tell why Izuku was so excited. The crunchy yellow radish tasted exactly like the kind he had eaten his entire life. It was identical to Inko’s.

Izuku knew that if he kept making food that tasted identical to his mother’s, he’d never stop eating. If food was how he planned to keep his mother alive, he’d happily eat each meal like it would be his last.

“Good job, Izuku. It’s perfect,” complimented Katsuki, diving in for more.

“It’s so wonderful,” cried Izuku, following his husband's lead and eating more.

Inko may be gone, but for the rest of Izuku’s life, he’d never have to live a day without her beautiful, one-of-a-kind meals. Inko showed her love through food and Izuku would forever be grateful that homemade meals will forever be their thing. Even after death.

#izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha deku #mha fanfiction #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bkdk #mha bkdk #inko midoriya #mitsuki bakugou #tw death #midoriya x bakugou #future au

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fanficrambles · 2 years

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The Other Woman

CW/TW : Swearing? Mentions of postpartum depression & depression. Implied self harm.

— Summary : Being married to a pro hero is difficult but you knew that your relationship could withstand the late nights and early mornings. With the start of a new school year you were excited to send your son off to school. Who could have prepared you for the heartbreak that a seemingly minor event would entail.

— Note : Grammar and I don't get along so don't expect much from that department. This is connected to my other series (here) but will be a series from the perspective of Bakugo's wife.

WC : 2k

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April 1, 20XX [7:00 am] [In your kitchen]

"We start the new month with a new scandal!" The gossip announcer states.

You roll your eyes at their statement as you continue to make breakfast. You had forgotten to change the channel before entering the kitchen and were now stuck listening to their nonsense.

"At the center of today's scandal is none other than our very own number one pro hero, Dynamight!" The woman announces.

"Very funny." You laugh to yourself as you finish preparing breakfast and move on to setting the table.

"Our hero's wife was spotted having an intimate moment with a mystery man late last night." The woman says before you freeze.

"What the hell is that extra talking about?" Bakugo asks as he walks into the kitchen with a scowl on his face.

"I have no idea. Yes I did meet up with some friends last night but I di-"

"So when you said that you couldn't come home to be with our son you were fucking around with your friends." Bakugo says with a deeper scowl.

"I had run into them after getting dinner with Mina. Katsuki you said that you didn't mind me going out last night." You frown as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well of course I'm going to mind when my damn wife is going out and ruining my reputation." Bakugo says as he steps closer to you. "We've talked about this. You're married to the top hero so you can't go around acting however you like."

"I'm not going to listen to this again. You don't need to lecture me as if I'm a child." You turn to walk away only for him to grab your wrist.

"You don't get to just walk away from me. I'm tal-" Bakugo begins to lecture before a little boy walks in.

"Katsumi." You pull your wrist away before you walk over to your son.

"Papa! Mama!" Katsumi says as he hugs your leg.

"You excited for your first day?" Bakugo asks as Katsumi lets you go to hug him.

"Uhuh! Mama said I'll make friends!" Katsumi says with a wide smile.

"Yeah. Go get dressed and then eat. I'm taking you in today." Bakugo says before the boy runs off. "Don't run." He reminds before he looks at you.

"What else do you have to say Katsuki?" You sigh as you look at him.

"Just don't let it happen again." Bakugo says before he serves himself breakfast.

You frown before you walk to Katsumi's room to check on him. "Need any help?"

"Nope! Got it all by myself." Katsumi states as he walks out in the outfit you had laid out the night before.

You walk to your bedroom where you look around at the bare walls and minimalist furniture. You hated this room and its furniture even though you had been the one to pick it out. You had let your decision be swayed by what Bakugo would like and you had to live with it now.

"I'm going to go drop him off now." Bakugo says from outside the closed door. "I'll text you if you need to pick him up."

"Okay. Be... Don't forget to have Katsumi brush his teeth." You hear him walk away before you sigh. You wait until you hear the front door shut before you leave the bedroom.

You hear your phone ring and you hurry to answer it.

"Y/n! I see you had fun after I left you." Mina jokes as soon as you pick up.

"Haha. So you've heard the news?" You sit on the couch as you enjoy talking to your friend.

"But seriously how was it to see your friends out of the blue like that?" Mina asks.

"It was nice. I hadn't seen them since my wedding. We actually made plans for next week."

"That's great. You should get out of the house more often." Mina encourages.

"Thank you Mina." You let yourself relax as the two of you continue to chat.

[10:26 am]

You look over your grocery cart before making your way to the self checkout area. You begin to scan your items as you think of how long dinner will take to make. You pay for your groceries before you make your way back home.

[3:00 pm]

"I wonder what time Katsumi will be let out." You check your phone for any new messages from Bakugo only to find none. "I guess he's going to pick him up today."

You sigh before you move on with your day and your responsibilities around the house.

[5:15 pm]

"He probably found a school that's open until late. I heard that some schools opened up with specifically heros in mind." Mina reassures after you share your concerns for the time and lack of Katsumi.

"Oh.. I had no idea that schools went on past three. But this is better for heros and their strange working hours." You let your worries slip away as you continue to chat with Mina.

[8:31 pm]

You practically run to the door when you hear it open. You are confused to find only Bakugo walking in. "Where is Katsumi?"

"What?" Bakugo says as he kicks his work shoes off.

"Where is Katsumi?"

"Are you telling me that you've been here sitting on your ass while our son is still at school?!" Bakugo asks with clenched fists.

"You never texted me to pick him up.. I thought that you would be picking him up."

"You know the hours that I work. Why didn't you call to confirm?! What kind of mother are you?! Why would you have a kid if you weren't going to try and care for him?!" Bakugo practically shouts as he pulls his shoes back on.

You are left speechless at his words as he turns around and walks out. "you didn't even tell me what school you put him in.."

You walk to your bedroom where you quickly pack a luggage. You call Bakugo as you fight back tears.

"What?" Bakugo barks as soon as he answers.

"I'm going to my parent's place. I'll call you if I'm coming back."

"What the he-" Bakugo begins to say before you hang up.

You feel tears roll down your cheeks as you make your way down to your car. You were used to Bakugo's cruel remarks when he was angry but this had been your final straw. The months of arguing and waking up to a man who looked as if he wished you were better. You tried to be the perfect partner. The perfect mother. You tried your hardest but now you just needed a break.

[8:55 pm] [On the road]

You drive through nearly empty streets as tears roll down your cheeks. "Call Mina."

You hear ringing before she picks up.

"Is this a booty call?" Mina asks with a laugh.

"Mi..Mina." You make a turn as you continue to cry.

"What happened?" Mina asks as her tone changes. "Was it Katsuki again?"

"I can't do this anymore!" You hit the steering wheel as you suddenly stop. "I don't want to be here anymore! Nothing I do is ever good enough!" You clench your fists before you hit your legs in frustration.

"Hey.. Come over and we'll talk it out." Mina says as a car honks behind you. "Be careful on the road. I can't lose my best friend."

"You won't tell him that I'm there will you.." You drive towards her apartment as you keep her words in mind.

"Of course not. Hell will freeze over before the thought even crosses my mind." Mina says.

You let out a small laugh as you continue to drive.

[9:39 pm] [Outside of Mina's apartment complex]

"Did you bring anything?" Mina asks as she walks towards you.

"Just a suitcase." You bite your lip as you fight back tears.

"I'll grab that and then we can go up to my room and binge watch our show." Mina says before she squeezes your hand.

You nod and watch her pull your luggage out of your car. You lock the car before following her up to her apartment.

[10:22 pm] [Inside Mina's bedroom]

"No way it just leaves us on that cliffhanger?!" Mina exclaims as the credits begin to play.

You laugh at her reaction. "Guess we'll have to wait for the new season to find out if he survives."

"When is it being released?" Mina asks.

"It's already been released in America. It should be released here later this year."

"It sounds like I'll have to pull out the illegal streaming services." Mina says with a smile as she shakes her head.

"Very heroic of you Pinky." You gently elbow her side as you smile.

"Oh totally. All he-" Mina begins to say before her phone rings.

You watch her grab her phone before she gives you a nervous look. You knew that look and you knew only one person who would be inconsiderate enough to call at such a late hour.

You nod before she answers the call.

"What's up Katsuki? I'm tr.. Y/n? No she isn't here. Did she go out or something? No she didn't tell me anything. Do you need help looking for her?" Mina begins to lie expertly as you watch her. "Yeah she probably is with her parents. Yeah. Night."

You hug her as soon as she hangs up. "Thank you Mina. I know it's unfair of me to ask you to lie to your friend."

"Your friendship means much more to me." Mina says as she hugs you back.

You truly had no idea where you would be if you hadn't had Mina by your side.

"Did you eat dinner?" Mina asks as she lets you go.

"No. I was waiting for Katsumi and Katsuki to get home." You felt bad that you hadn't been home to welcome your son and ask about his day.

"Well then it's a good thing that I still have some of my dinner." Mina says before she gets off the bed and motions for you to follow her.

You follow after her and watch as she heats up some food. "Mina?"

"What's up?" Mina asks as she pulls a plate and cup out.

"Do you think I'm a bad mother?" You think back to Bakugo's words as you wait for her answer.

"What? Of course not! You're a kickass mom! You didn't let your post partum depression keep you from caring for Katsumi. You stopped taking your antidepressants the same day your doctor told you that you were pregnant. You didn't want to risk anything when it came to your pregnancy." Mina says as she takes your hands. "You went above and beyond just to give birth to him. No matter what Katsuki says you are a great mother."

You fight back a new wave of tears as you hug her. "It's just so difficult. I'm trying to be better for Katsumi. I shouldn't be having those bad thoughts. I'm a mother for crying out loud. I have a priority to my son and my husband."

"But if you don't take care of yourself then how will you be able to take care of Katsumi or Katsuki?" Mina asks as she hugs you back. "Have you tried to tell Katsuki about your... thoughts?"

You step back and look down in shame. "He thinks that I'm doing better and I don't want him to know that I slipped up again."

"What happened?" Mina asks as she serves you food.

"The thoughts were too much and I did it again."

"When?" Mina asks as she walks to her dining table.

You follow her and wait for her to sit down before you do the same.

"A week ago.." You roll your sleeves up to show her your healing arms.

"Y/n.. You should have called me." Mina says as she motions for you to eat. "Have you been eating regularly? Have you been eating enough?"

You pick up your spoon before you begin to eat. You reluctantly shake your head as you look at her.

"Okay. Do you think the arguments with Bakugo are one of the things that led to this?" Mina asks.

You shake your head before you sigh. "I just don't know how to work through the emotions. It makes me feel like a child. I should know how to handle my emotions at this age."

"Why don't you see your therapist again?" Mina recommends.

"She moved a while ago." You finish eating as she gets up.

"Where is my damn bag?" Mina mumbles to herself as she looks around the apartment.

You get up and wash your dishes as you wait for her to return.

"Found it!" Mina calls out before walking into the kitchen with a business card in hand.

"What's that?"

"A number for a therapist. He's supposed to the best of the best. One of my old friends recommended him." Mina says before handing the card over. "You should see him."

You look at the card before you smile at your friend. "Thank you Mina." You wanted to get better and would try anything to do so.

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