#keke.writes

[smashboxgirl26]

i crumble completely when you cry

ph! katsuki bakugou x fem! reader summary: this wasn't the way it was supposed to happen, but sometimes mistakes yield the best results contains: proposal!! (for @/pityslash <33), kinda ooc soft bakugou but im blaming it on him getting a concussion, mentions of injury, lots of fluff hehe word count: 1.8k words masterlist

Katsuki awoke to a darkened room with white, tiled speckled ceiling cut into rectangles and an IV in his arm; you were sleeping in the plastic chair at his bedside, head leaning against the wall and your mouth slightly open. It was probably about two or three in the morning, judging by the dimmed light coming from the hospital hallway.

Fuck.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He shifted around slightly under the thin sheets, grunting as he tried to move his (apparently broken) right arm to fit in the pocket of his hero costume. A sigh of relief pushed past his lips when he felt the little velvet box still stashed away, thankfully left untouched.

And god– fuck did his head hurt… but this wasn’t how the night was supposed to go.

You were still dressed up — makeup and all, heels sitting next to you on the floor, the pretty black satin dress he watched you show off before you both left for dinner: now bunched up in your lap between your palms as you slept. 

You were definitely going to complain about the crook in your neck when you woke up from the way your head was angled against the wall. You should’ve just gone home and slept properly in bed: but he knew arguing with you would’ve been fruitless — you’d refuse to leave his side like you always did. 

Katsuki let out a small huff as he stared back up at the darkened ceiling.

This was supposed to be your anniversary. He had it all planned out: flowers, dinner, taking a walk through the park near the apartment to get ice cream, proposing in the little ramada he’d gotten Hanta and Eijirou to decorate with fairy lights and flowers. His mother’s old engagement ring was what he’d nervously tucked away into his suit pocket earlier that evening; she’d given it to him the first time you met her — as if she just knew the outcome of your relationship. 

And yet, not even halfway through dinner he’d gotten a call about a villain spiraling out of control. 

He knew his apology was lacking when he pushed himself up from the table, telling you he’d be back as fast as he possibly could; and he could tell how disappointed you were at the fact he was leaving despite how you playfully urged him to hurry before you ate all the dessert without him.

He’d slipped the ring in his costume pocket thinking he would make it back in time for your walk in the park — but that went out the window the second he was caught off guard and blasted through an apartment building.

You shifted slightly, against your spot on the wall. Katsuki almost thought it was because he was thinking too loud.

Your eyes opened after a moment or two, and blinked once or twice at him before realizing his eyes were also open.

“You’re awake?” you asked groggily, scrubbing your eyes before pulling yourself up from the chair. “Let me go get the nurse–”

“S’fine,” he stopped you before you could get out the door, lifting his head off the pillow because he knew you would come over and scold him for it.

Shit he felt dizzy.

“Don’t move right now,” you chastised him — immediately abandoning your mission to rush back to his side and help him lay his head back down on the pillow. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yea,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Don’ get the nurse yet… I don’ really want more fuckin’ needles in my arm right now.”

“...fine.” You pressed your lips together, concealing the lecture he knew you wanted to spew: him never being careful when he promised he would be being main point among those you wanted to address — yet you pulled the hard, plastic chair you were sitting in up to the bed and leaned against the mattress.

“...do you feel dizzy?”

“Yeah.”

“You got a concussion from your fall,” you turned your head to look towards the side, and he couldn’t see your expression anymore in the dimmed light from the lamp next to his bedside. “You also broke your arm from landing on it.”

“You saw?”

“It was on the news.”

You sounded on the verge of tears. He needed to apologize. He’d ruined your night.

“M’sorry,” he let his left hand drift over to where yours was laying on the bed next to him, his fingers catching between your own — grabbing you out of your dazed attention — “M’sorry I ruined our night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything Katsuki,” you shook your head, but he could hear the little edge of pain in your voice. “It’s not your fault… I was just worried.”

“I did, though,” he continued. “Tonight was s’posed to be just us walkin’ through the park n’ getting ice cream.”

“You had it all planned out huh?” You finally faced him again, tired eyes and a small, sad smile on your lips. 

“F’course I did, would y’expect anythin’ less from me?” 

“Of course not,” you humored him, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before planting a kiss over a small scab and pressing your cheek against it — staring faraway, somewhere his mind could never find yours.

“Why didn’t you go home?” he rubbed his thumb against yours. “Could’ve changed and been comfortable.”

You let out a small huff — “I couldn’t just leave you here. I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

“You didn’t have to worry about me, baby. Y’should’ve slept comfortably at home, come and seen me in the morning.”

You didn’t answer; instead, pressed another kiss against his knuckles before letting his hand come back down to the bed.

“If you saw what I did, you wouldn’t be saying that.” — was all you left it at — you tried to get up to get the nurse, but he didn’t let your hand go. “Katsuki–”

“Just let me be a lil’ longer,” he slurred, drowsily. “Come lay down with me.”

“Kats–”

“Please.”

“How could I–”

“Please.” He repeated, and you gave up to the pleading look in his eyes. “Can’t sleep properly without you there.”

He shifted himself over slightly, watching you hold your tongue once again with a little snort, before patting at the spot next to him. You climbed up slowly, carefully, trying to be as light as possible to not let the little hospital bed creak under both your weights — letting yourself melt next to him, your hand resting over his chest. You didn’t say anything, just nestled yourself into his shoulder with a yawn.

Something about the way you were positioned made it feel like you were hesitant to touch him — as he was as fragile as glass. Even with your fingers resting over his abdomen, he barely felt them there.

“What’s got your mind all worked up?” he asked after what felt like hours of silence.

“...nothing.”

“I know when yer overthinkin’ baby.”

You looked up to him, sad eyes and all. “I was really worried.” You sniffed, burrowing yourself back next to him. “I was just sitting in the restaurant finishing my food until I got a notification on my phone about the news — and I clicked it and saw the video of you being blasted through the building. There was so much debris, I almost thought–I don’t know what I thought… It felt like I couldn’t breathe or–or think… I just ran out of there as fast as I could so I could get to the hospital. And then, when you wake up, your first concern is that you ruined the night?” You huff, angrily and under your breath but you didn’t let him see it. “I can’t believe you sometimes…” 

“M’sorry,” he repeated, this time drowsily— despite the disapproving click you let out in response, he wrapped his arm around you: rubbing small circles in your arm to soothe the tension you continued to let off. These situations were the only times you both switched roles; the only time he was the one who had to calm you down when usually it was the opposite.

“Stop saying that.”

“I am though,” he continued anyway. “For making you worry and cry when I should’ve been careful. I got a little reckless tryin’ to get back to you quickly. I just… didn’t wanna leave you stranded there.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” you almost scolded him. “I’m used to it, I understand what your job is like.”

“Told you though, I had it all planned out n’ shit — stupid bastard ruined it all…”

“It’s okay,” you pacified him. “It was just dinner, we can always go out another time.”

“It wasn’t just dinner though…” He stopped himself from continuing, but looking down at your furrowed brow knew that he’d have to give an explanation. 

“We’ve talked about marriage before—” he started again after a moment of silence. A moment to catch his breath, to let his racing thoughts and heart subside slightly. “—about us staying together like this because we couldn’t really ever see ourselves with anyone else.”

You nodded.

“And I thought–I knew that we were both ready… So I was gonna propose.”

You didn’t say anything, and he didn’t dare look down at your face — not when he could feel the heat rushing up to his face like he was about to pass out.

“I uh, had this whole speech planned out n’ everything,” he stared at the ceiling once more. “Even had Ei n’ Hanta set up flowers and candles in the park near that cherry blossom tree we always picnic near.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“M’sorry for just bringing it up now, and spoiling the surprise ‘cause I could’ve just done it later…”

“...are you really apologizing for telling me that you were going to propose?” you spoke after a moment. 

He could hear the slight crack in your voice, and he looked down to see that his suspicions were correct — you were crying.

“Don’ cry,” he tried to wipe them with fail because he could only use one arm. “You know I get sad when you cry.”

“I can’t help it.” 

 “I know that this isn’t where you probably expected to get proposed to, but everything I said is true — I wanna spend the rest of my life with you n’ get those little moments with you. N’ honestly, as long as we have that, I don’t think it matters where this shit happens.” He shifted around slightly, before you could stop him: sitting up to properly face you and pulling a little velvet box out from his pocket. “Marry me?”

“Of course I will,” you tried to wipe away your tears before falling into his embrace — pausing after he let out a hissing sound. “I’m calling the nurse for real now.”

#keke.writes #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia fic #boku no hero x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou x y/n #bakugou imagine #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo oneshot #katsuki bakugou x female reader

[smashboxgirl26]

hello!! i was wondering if i could request a reader who feels alienated and depressed because she is basically a loner at school and bakugou who goes out of his way to spend time with her, bringing her lunch to share and ends up confessing to her?

the days of the week

contains: fluff word count: 2.1k a/n: yes yes yesss,,, only i changed some things bc thats how it worked out in my head. also it's short and sweet, but i had fun drifting off from my wips and getting to put my mind on something new

monday:

"What're you doing here?" you stared up from your book at Bakugou, who'd plopped himself down beside you.

It was lunchtime, and you'd found yourself outside under the tree near the end of the field, alone, as you'd been since the sports festival.

"Why? M'not allowed to eat lunch here?" he gave you a sneer as he raised his eyebrow.

"No," you rolled your eyes. "I was asking why you were here. You don't normally sit here, you sit inside with everyone else."

"So? Do I need a reason?"

"Nevermind," you shook your head, returning to your book.

"Yer not eating anything?" he started again after a moment of silence, and you looked up at him with despair.

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it fuckin' does," his eyes narrowed in your direction. "How the fuck am I supposed to beat you at your full power in training if you haven't even eaten anything?"

That's what this is about.

There were going to be one-on-one sparring sessions that day in training, and All Might (very fortunately) had disclosed everyone's partner ahead of time so that everyone had enough time to prepare for their opponent's quirk.

"Listen Bakugou, I'll make sure to put in my all, or whatever. I'm still fine without eating."

You found a part of yourself trying to appease him, despite the weird mind games he was playing. You knew it was just because of what he'd seen your quirk do in the sports festival — and why everyone in your class had practically dumped you, even if they were too scared to admit it — and because he was so obsessed with winning.

A bowl was suddenly nudged in front you, and you had to look up from your book again to see Bakugou giving you another look.

"M'not fighting you if you haven't eaten anything," he announced defiantly.

The look he was giving you made it seem as if you had lost the argument, especially since he was almost gloating as he raised his eyebrows as a way to force you to challenge him.

"Okay," you shrugged before turning back down. "Don't fight me then."

You heard him growl under his breath, and before you could internally celebrate your victory, your book was pulled out of your hands and you looked back up at him in shock.

"Listen here you shitty fuckin' extra," he snarled. "I am not going to miss out on training just because you decided to be a bitch and spite me. So eat yer damn food."

"Give me my book back."

"No."

"Give it back, Bakugou."

"Not gonna happen."

"Ugh! Just give it to me!"

"What are ya gonna do, extra? Fight me?" he taunted, and you quickly realized what he was playing at.

"Fucking fine!" you huffed, grabbing the bowl of ramen and downing it in under a minute. It wasn't hot, thankfully, since it'd been out for a while — and you looked back at Bakugou after finishing and wiping your mouth with the back of your wrist.

"Give. It."

He tossed the book back at you without a second thought, and you shot him a glare before letting out a breath when you realized that the page you were reading was still bookmarked.

Only Bakugou didn't leave after that. He sat there and chewed on his onigiri for the rest of the period before getting up a couple minutes before the bell rang.

Fuckin' weirdo.

. . .

tuesday:

"Yer still not eating anything?" Bakugou said as he placed his lunch tray on the grass next to where you were sitting, again.

After your match yesterday (where Bakugou had still won, obviously), you thought that he would leave you alone, since you weren't friends and he didn't have any reasons to talk to you besides your match.

"Why does it matter?" you looked up from your book, surprised. Why was he back?

"Because you need to eat," he rolled his eyes. "Isn't that fuckin' obvious?"

You resolved his statement with a glare that he didn't acknowledge, watching as he instead pushed half of a sandwich towards you before taking a bite of his curry.

"Why are you here?" you glanced between him and the sandwich.

"To eat. Isn't that obvious?"

"No, asshole. Why are you here?"

"Because I can."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should," you raised an eyebrow, watching as a vein popped out of his forehead when he turned to you.

"Listen extra," he dropped his chopsticks to point a finger at you. "I can sit wherever the fuck I want. Now shut the fuck up and eat your sandwich."

You gave him an unimpressed look before grabbing the sandwich and tearing the paper it was wrapped in harshly. You made sure that you bit and chewed into it aggressively, just wanting him to shut up so you could read your book but still let him know that you were angry about him coming and sitting next to you — but you were still a little hungry since you'd skipped breakfast that morning.

You didn't notice the little triumphant look Bakugou gave himself as he watched you from the side — angrily chewing the sandwich while your eyes scanned the page in front of you.

He'd won again.

. . .

wednesday:

"What's this lame ass book you've always got your nose stuck in?" Bakugou announced as he sat down next to you again, only you weren't as bothered by his presence as you'd been the day before.

You still let out an audible groan though when you looked up, watching as Bakugou slid over a plate with sushi before biting into his own salad.

"Why do you keep bringing me lunch?"

"I've told you this already," he rolled his eyes. "Use your fuckin' brain for once."

"No- Let me just.." you put your book down and stared at him. "I meant, why do you keep coming and sitting with me and bringing me lunch and stuff? I'm fine on my own."

"Answer my question first," he looked up from eating. "You didn't answer me."

"Just a romance," you rolled your eyes. "Now why do keep sitting with me?"

"The best friend was super shitty in that one," Bakugou mumbled in passing when he finally found himself noticing the title of the book, but his eyes widened in an instant to find a cat-like grin stretching across your face.

"How do you know that?" you asked him slyly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he tried to seem nonchalant about it, looking back with a glare that was probably supposed to deter you from asking any further — but it seemed to have no weight when you willingly scooched closer to him.

"I clearly heard you Bakugou," you raised an eyebrow, watching as his eyes refused to look back down at the book cover again in definace.

"I didn't say anything."

You stared him down, this time watching as he crumbled, putting down his bowl before he spoke.

"I fuckin' read it before, okay?" he threw his arms up. "What else do you think happened? But if you tell another goddamn soul about this, I'm gonna kill you. Got it?"

"Yeah got it — I won't," you shrugged him off. "But what does she do?"

"Huh?"

"You said the best friend was shitty. What did she do?"

You watched Bakugou roll his his eyes before finally giving in, slumping against the tree trunk you always sat next to like he was letting the weight fall off his shoulders.

"Remember when she told the main character girl about the second guy liking her and all that."

"You mean Ryu?"

"Yeah that idiot — well she did it because she was trying to get the brother mad at the both of them so she could ask the main guy out instead," Bakugou went back to eating his salad smugly, watching as your face twisted into shock.

"Of course she wanted to get with Haru!" you stared at the book now sitting in the grass. "I thought it was so weird when she told her because it was so obvious she was already jealous about Haru not liking her."

"Yeah," Bakugou barely shrugged, taking another bite.

You'd forgotten about your question this time, but he wasn't sure he would be so lucky if you asked him again.

At least it was fun to talk about something he never got to.

.

.

.

thursday:

The fact that you were reading a different book today instantly caught Bakugou's attention as he sat down at your usual spot, two bento boxes in hand.

"What happened to the other one?" he gestured to the thicker, hardcover book.

"You basically spoiled it," you shrugged. "So I'm rereading a different one instead."

Bakugou didn't say anything as he slid a bento box over to you, pulling out his chopsticks as you put your book down.

"I didn't see bento's in the lunch room today. I was hoping for pizza actually."

"I'm not yer damn waiter. Just shut up and appreciate the food you're given," he rolled his eyes.

"Where'd you get them from though?" you asked as you opened the bento, a small smile creeping up at the neatly packed food inside.

"...I made 'em," he almost whispered, eyes strained as you took a bite of the salmon he made.

"It's good!" you looked up at him with wide eyes. "I didn't know you could cook so well."

"Of course I fuckin' can," he sneered, turning back to his box like he wasn't intently watching your reaction. "I'm the best cook in our class."

"I wouldn't be so sure," you raised an eyebrow. "Sato's actually really good at baking."

"That's not the same thing you idiot."

"Aren't they similar though?"

"No."

And it was silent again, the both of you eating under the tree until you finally spoke again.

"Why do you keep sitting with me, Bakugou?"

It was hard for Bakugou to look up after those words came off your lips in a nonchalant manner — how was he supposed to answer with the truth?

"Does it fuckin' matter?" he deflected. "Why're you always sitting alone then?"

"I dunno," you rolled your eyes as if the answer was obvious, your face scrunching when you realized his question was serious.

"You're being serious?" you asked with an almost gaped mouth.

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

"My quirk," you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Bakugou only gave you a look of bewilderment.

"The sports festival?" you reiterated. "How I had that guy from Class B under my control and stuff?"

"So?" he looked away. "You did okay. It's not even like you won or anything."

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? People think my quirk is villainous."

It wasn't like Bakugou didn't notice the change in attitude towards you after the sports festival and the true nature of your quirk was revealed, but he really believed that the people around him were better than that.

He saw how the media was treating his own outbursts, and while in the tiniest way possible he could understand them — your reaction was unwarranted.

"Don't say shit like that," Bakugou looked up to you seriously. "If no one else around you can see that your quirk's good enough to become a hero, fuck 'em. They weren't worth being in your life anyways. Got that?"

You paused, seemingly unable to speak from the weight his words left hanging in the air — but you finally nodded slightly, picking up your book from where it was still open in the grass.

"Thanks."

.

.

.

friday:

You didn't startle today when Bakugou found his place beside you, nonchalantly turning the page without registering his existence. He couldn't help but let the silence linger — you looked peaceful while quietly reading — letting himself start eating his own lunch after pushing a plate in front of you.

Your book snapped shut after a couple moments, suddenly, and he could feel your eyes boring holes into the side of his head.

"Bakugou."

"Hmm?"

"Why do you keep eating lunch with me?"

But as soon as he opened his mouth to deflect, you interrupted him.

"And I know that it's not because you wanna make sure that I'm in top shape or whatever — and you can't deflect the question like every other time I've asked you this, okay?" You were staring at him seriously.

"Okay, you wanna know why?" he started, putting his chopsticks on his plate before turning towards you straight on. "I like you, Y/N — more than as a friend would."

You blinked at him, clearly startled by his response. "Why?"

"Whadd'ya mean why? Does there have to be reason?" He sneered. Were you being serious?

"But... My quirk..."

"Didn't I already tell you? Anyone who thinks that has shit for brains. Now shut up and eat your food."

#keke.writes #not what i've usually been writing but it was kinda fun lol #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha bakugou katsuki

[smashboxgirl26]

sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat

ph! katsuki bakugou x fem! (though i don't state pronouns) reader summary: katsuki realizes his feelings a little too late contains: mentions of sex, angst (with a maybe happy ending) word count: 2.8k words masterlist

Under the shadows of the coming morning—the sun rising through the blinds of the bedroom windows in your apartment—Katsuki liked to pretend that you were his. 

Just his. 

He tended to be up earlier than you anyways—with years of waking up for hero work instilled in his sleep schedule—but he liked that time. It was quiet in the mornings; only the sounds of the early morning traffic and the birds nested in the tree next to your apartment to keep him company besides your breathing: breaths that were soft and sweet and slow. 

He would curl his palm over your cheek, pressing your figure closer to his as he watched your chest rise and fall under him, stroking your skin softly with his rough thumb—because you were his in that moment. 

Just his.

In those times, he would forget what the reality of his life was—the way you would stare at him tiredly every time he knocked on your door past 1 am, the lingering feeling of your fingers on his cheeks when he leaned in for a kiss, how you would oblige him no matter how many times you’d called him while drunk and upset, the kisses he left on your forehead before he left you alone the next morning—

—That you were not his and he was not yours, no matter how many times he liked to repeat it to himself.

It’s because of my work—he said to himself in the morning, stroking your hair out of your face.

It’s because I don’t have the time to commit—he whispered, nestling himself into the crook of your neck so he could smell the lingering scent of mint, strawberries, and sex.

If only we met under different circumstances… If only my job wasn’t so demanding… If only it was easier… If only I could commit…

If only…

After a while, you only nodded when he whispered those words at three am and your head was resting on his bare chest—like you believed him. 

(Before you would get upset, turn away, tell him to leave—and the cycle would repeat.)

You’d kiss his neck in acknowledgment, curling up in his arms like a cat would—uncaring, unaware. 

He wished he could do the same; just accept the reality in front of him. 

But it didn’t matter, because right now, you were his. 

Just his.

It was the complacency that let the cycle continue; but it was the complacency that became his downfall. He realized this when he stopped leaving you after ten minutes of waking up—waiting for the pink sky to turn bright, watching your eyes flutter open under the light of forthcoming day, the small smile that creeped into your eyes when you realized he was still there—mornings spent in the kitchen drinking coffee and sharing laughs while you paraded around in the sweatshirt he left the first time he came over. 

(It was his favorite in school—black and oversized with a small embroidered insignia of All Might above the right breast.

He didn’t even know he’d lost it until you came out wearing it one morning—and some of his old cologne was still lingering on the collar.)

He let himself forget—deluded himself—into thinking it would last. That he wouldn’t eventually have to pull away, and the dream-like haze he’d lost himself in with you wouldn’t end.

Just his.

It happened five weeks later, after a month-long mission: the morning after, and you were standing in a shirt that wasn’t his with a coffee mug pressed up to your lips like it would hide what you were about to say.

“I think… I think we should end this here, Katsuki.”

The words didn’t register at first, and he stood there staring—trying to come up with an answer.

“This?”

“...us.” Your lips pressed together solemnly, as if whispering a prayer under your breath—and you let out a tired sigh. So very tired. “Our relationship.”

He grunted, unwilling to open his mouth in retaliation. The fear that had been festering in his head began to rise, ugly and thick like bile coming up his throat—and he stood still, silently, staring at the coffee you made for him with too much sugar in the mug he got you from a mission a couple months ago. 

“...I’ve been seeing someone,” you let out—but Katsuki didn’t dare look at your face; Venom sat at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spit out—

—Because you were supposed to be his. 

Just his. “Don’t call it a relationship,” he settled on—enough spite in his voice that he knew it would deter you. “It never was one.”

He expected you to look relieved when he finally stared up at you again, but your expression seemed more soured than before: like you were expecting a different answer to push past his lips. It was quickly replaced though, by a smile that didn’t seem to meet your eyes like they did when you’d wake up in the morning to still find him in bed next to you, before taking another sip of your too-sweet coffee.

“Thank you, Katsuki.”

He didn’t know what you were thanking him for—your time together? For letting you go when you’d both been hooking up like this for almost a year?

And he wasn’t even sure why it felt so bitter. He’d known from the beginning that, whatever this was, wouldn’t last forever. 

Why would you stay in something like this, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to give you more than the little bit of time he already did? Why wouldn’t you want someone who consistently woke up with you in the morning to give you breakfast in bed, or brought you flowers after work, or could take you out in the evenings for dinner?

You deserved that—you deserved all of it. 

So why did he think (hope) you would settle for the little moments he offered you when you could have the world?

He kept his face blank when he left your apartment that morning—drilling the hole in his brain that had been dedicated to you in silence—simultaneously missing the sound of sobbing that came from your apartment as soon as he stepped out the door. 

He thought he would be okay—that in a week or so, it’d be back to how it was without you. 

But it wasn’t.

One week turned into two; two weeks turned into four; and four weeks turned into sitting at the bar, drunk while still in his hero outfit, with Kirishima sitting next to him as he rambled on about you.

You were the only thing he thought about, the only thing he could think about—he missed the scent of your body wash, the warmth of your skin on his, the small teasing smiles you’d give and the dimple that only appeared on one cheek, the too-sweet coffee he’d subject himself to drinking, watching the sunrise while feeling you laying next to him…

Everything about you felt like home.

He’d even gotten distracted the other day during a villain attack because there was a civvie who looked just like you in the line of fire and he’d panicked. 

“It was such a fuckin’ rookie, stupid ass mistake, and I still made it,” he took the last sip of his pint before letting out a small, frustrated grunt because it was finished. 

Eijirou moved to prevent Katsuki from flagging the bartender down for a refill—he was drunk enough after two pints; instead, he signaled for the check while Katsuki groaned in response.

“I’m not fuckin’ finished.”

“Yes, you are,” Eijirou stared at him with a pinched expression. “You have patrol first thing in the morning—you’ll thank me for it then.”

Katsuki huffed under his breath in resignation—unfortunately Eijirou was correct. Not only that, but the upcoming lecture he knew would be coming from the higher ups would be infinitely worse with a splitting hangover. 

“I’ll pay for it,” Eijirou shooed him off his barstool. “Just go stand outside for a bit, maybe the cold will help sober you up a little before you go to sleep.”

Katsuki could only huff in response; his mind was swimming and blurred and his head felt heavy enough that he could only comply with what Eijirou had said—he’d have to pay him back for it later. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he trudged outside. 

The late-winter-early-spring winds nipped against his skin as soon as the door shut behind him, and Katsuki pulled the scarf he was wearing higher up to fully cover his neck and chin—shifting uncomfortably in the cold while he waited for Kirishima. The street was basically empty except for the couple people walking in and out of the bar; he guessed that it was too cold for people to be wandering around at night. Most of the shops on the streets were closed too, leaving the only illumination to come from the blinking street lamps that lined the sidewalk and the gibbous moon above.

“What’s takin’ so fuckin’ long…” he muttered under his breath—trying to peer into the window to see what Kirishima was doing. 

When he turned back, he spotted a couple walking in the distance; though he couldn’t make out their faces, their intertwined hands and the closeness they exuded was enough. Katsuki could see his breath in the air when he sighed, loudly, mind buried in the memories of what could have been—until they were close enough that he could make out their faces: and he realized, it was you.

And you looked happy with the extra, he couldn’t lie—all cheeky, rosy smiles and giggles as he told you some joke that he could barely get through without laughing himself; you were holding a bouquet of pink and yellow tulips in one hand, with the other hand clasped in his (which he occasionally brought up to his lips to kiss the back of); he was carrying both the leftovers of the restaurant you both just went to and a shopping bag from a store you’d always liked.

You looked… at peace—with yourself, your situation.

But as happy as you looked, he couldn’t help the ugly, selfish feeling boiling in the back of his throat.

Because you were just his.

Because… that should’ve been him.

It should’ve been him—holding your hand, leading you through the night with confidence, and the other holding everything you wanted to buy while you smiled and giggled on his arm. 

You’d love teasing him. You’d loved spending time with him, as little as it was.

And though he’d refused it for so long, you’d loved him too.

He’d spent weeks, months, trying to ignore that fact when the two of you were together, if you could even classify it as that—and here he was, stuck in the same fucking position; he was destined to just watch you from afar as you moved on from the cycle he’d pushed you into, while he lost himself in it instead.

Maybe he was just selfish.

Katsuki didn’t even know when he started following you both, distantly (maybe he couldn’t help it, maybe he just wanted to make sure you reached home safe)—Eijirou was an afterthought at that point—and when you’d finally reached your apartment.

The extra even offered to come up and drop the bags off so you wouldn’t have to carry them up the stairs yourself, but you declined: kissing him shortly before waving goodbye and watching him leave. 

Watching you kiss him seemed to wake Katsuki up, his glazed over eyes finally seeming to register his surroundings: the streetlamps overhead, the light from the apartments lining the building, the little crack in the paint of the building where he’d once apprehended a villain to save you, you staring at him—

—you were staring at him? Katsuki didn’t shift from where he was standing as you walked up to him, leftovers and shopping and tulips forgotten on the sidewalk in front of your apartment.

“Katsuki?” Your lips barely moved, and your hands were pressed to your sides. You were trembling slightly—and he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or him.

He didn’t answer; he couldn’t will his mouth to open in front of you.

“Wh–What are you doing here?”

Even worse, he couldn’t bear to tell you the truth.

“I uh… I was on patrol nearby.”

You stared off to that little crack in the painted wall as if you were reminiscing, avoiding his gaze—your fingers rubbing together red in the cold with wobbly knuckles.

You were freezing.

“Here,” he grunted, slowly pulling his scarf from under his neck to hand it to you. Your expression instantly changed, and though you tried to dissuade him, the visible puffs of air coming from your nose were enough to tell him that it was something you needed.

“I… Thank you…” you whispered, letting him wrap it around you. “You always said you hated the cold, so…”

“Doesn’t matter. You clearly need it more than I do.”

This was his final act, he’d decided. He couldn’t hold you back any longer—not when he couldn’t give you what you wanted and needed out of him; no, it was what you deserved. Maybe his final act of stupidity would mean enough to him in the future that he’d be able to move on; and maybe one day the stupid scarf would just be a memento you had, instead of a reminder of the hurt he knew he’d brought.

And it was all so fucking dumb and poetic—standing in the spot you’d both met, saying your final goodbyes with your happy ending just waiting in the distance: waiting for him to get out of your life so it could be whole and right again.

But when you turned around, and started walking back towards the tulips he never bought you, leftovers from the restaurants where he never took you, and the clothes he’d never offered to buy—your apartment where his sweatshirt was laying in the first, top drawer of your dresser—the words were choked out of his throat.

Because you were supposed to be just his.

And maybe the alcohol in his system had the influence, but he couldn’t let you go: not when you were the best thing that’d ever happened in his entire life. 

The echoing sound of boots slapping loudly against the pavement and your name being called out by his heavy cries was enough to stop you in your tracks—and at first he thought it was because you didn’t want to see him again: but when he called your name once more and you turned around, he learned it was because you were already crying.

“I…I love you,” he whispered when he was close enough, fighting the urge to wipe your tears away like his own weren’t following quickly behind.

“Katsuki…” you smeared your cold fingers over your face, trying to wipe away the evidence that kept falling. “I-I…Y-You…Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for those words to come out of your lips?” you couldn’t really stop the tears from falling now—and he could only pathetically watch as they did. “Do you know how much I’ve fucking ached and cried over those three stupid fucking words? And now… Now that I finally feel okay, you’re standing here—pretending like you can make it alright again? How can you–”

“I love you,” he repeated, grounding his stance in the pavement. He couldn’t let you slip straight through his fingers. “I’ve loved you since I blasted that idiot against that wall to save you. I’ve loved you since you dressed my wounds in your apartment. I’ve loved you since we met at that coffee shop again down the street. I’ve loved you through every night spent together, and through every mission spent away…” He repeated your name once more, cradling your face in his rough, cold palms like he would an oath to his heart. “And—m’sorry… I-I know I was a fuckin’ idiot this whole time not realizin’ it, and you can hate me all you want but I… I just needed you to know, ‘kay?—I couldn’t let you walk out of my life without knowing.”

He couldn’t even face you anymore, not when he could feel the tear that’d begun leaking down his cheek at the thought of you rejecting his admission: a secret he’d kept close to his heart, burying it underneath years of repression and loathing.

And now it was out in the open, left for you to stomp on if you wanted to.

“You say that now, Katsuki,” you uttered, the tears now drying on your cheeks. “But we both know that whatever this is isn’t gonna last.” You scoffed bitterly, putting your hands over his—perhaps in an attempt to remove them from where they were plastered to your skin—but instead they just rested over his while your bottom lip wobbled dangerously. 

He knew you were right. He knew that everything you said was true.

And yet—

—he kissed you anyway. 

Because you knew: that you were just his and he was just yours.

#keke.writes #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo imagine #bnha angst #mha fic #mha fanfiction #mha angst

[smashboxgirl26]

hidden in the sand

part one out of two: anew bakugou katsuki x reader (oneshot) summary: seeing your face again wasn't something he'd called for, but you don't normally think about seeing your dead childhood friend as a mermaid. word count: 14.8k contains: mermaids, drowning, mentions of suicide, memories

Standing moonlit, over the half-sunken wharf at the edge of the island, Katsuki stood — going through the motions of taking small drags of his cigarette slowly, carefully: letting smoke fill his chest before pushing it out again. It didn’t have as much of an edge anymore, but maybe it was the familiarity of the motion that bloomed warmth within him. It was one of the few things in his life that had stayed relatively consistent —and it was enough. Enough to keep him content for a while. 

Instead he stared, watching as the water pushed and pulled off the wooden stakes, cresting white foam visible only under the light of the full moon; the fishing boats staked nearby creaked in their spots, tilting slowly back and forth over the pattern of the waves — but Katsuki wasn’t paying attention. Neither the sound of rushing water under him nor the view of the boats in front of him held his focus: his mind was busy, blurred — unfocused.

After a second or so, he found himself crushing the cigarette under his heel as he stalked back towards the restaurant his friends were sitting at — ocean air chilling him through his thin linen shirt.

He would’ve made it, had he not heard the sound of singing.

Somehow it was sharp enough to cut through the chaos sprawled in his head, catching his attention almost instantly with its hauntingly sweet melody.

It echoed across the expanse of the water, and he lifted his head up — eyes scanning from where he stood — but to be left with nothing. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

It was faint and light — seeming to call out to him, and him specifically. 

But there was something so familiar about it. Something he couldn’t resist — and it led him chasing back down the pier; the ships remained silent in their hold as he passed them, the pier creaking louder as his steps became heavier and desperate — the song becoming clearer than a faint sound stuck in the singing wind.

He wasn’t stopped when his shoes made contact with the sand, having followed the song to the beach — where a figure lay amongst the shallows, hidden in the darkness of the foaming water by the rising moon.

Some part of him wanted to call out to them — to ask if they required help — but all thoughts were swallowed under the sound; before he knew it, he’d stumbled across the beach, breaching the shoreline as he waded into the water without a second thought. 

He couldn’t refuse the refuge the song brought from his mind, his thoughts, his feelings — the way it seemed to make him forget about everything — and the closer he got to the source, the more he felt the song beat in his ears.

He hadn’t even realized he’d breached the waterline of the beach until the sensation of stinging invaded his legs; cold water climbing up around him as he waded deeper past the shallows.

The figure lay closer yet still far away, its song louder and more prominent in his ears. His heart beat into his ears faster as the cold water lay higher over his abdomen — still walking slowly, silently towards it.

There wasn’t a chance to stop himself now, his mind was too receptive to the figure hidden behind the light of the moon — too fixed on following it out to sea. By the time he’d realized it was the sound of water rushing by his ears, he was too far from the shore to try and swim back.

The moon was his last witness, watching as he was pulled underneath, with no song to numb him now. 

Wriggling under the dark surface, the existing pain shooting forcefully up his left leg, he desperately fought the pair of hands weighing him down, attempting to claw at them — though with failure. The water only worked against him, the waves roughly forcing him down as he fought with himself for air. 

He finally breached the crest of a wave with a large splash, thanking the moon for being bright enough that he could see. Gasps of air came out in choked coughs as Bakugou tried to swim back: away from the ocean and all its dangers.

However, the thing was back — swimming under the water with great force around him. His paddles weren’t much compared to the way it moved the water — leaving him a small leaf as susceptible to the ripples in a river. 

He’d lost most of his strength in the fight to pull himself above the water, and yet he prepared himself to use his quirk — arms raised above the water.

The figure rose to the surface once more, but no longer blanketed by the reflection of the moon; and Bakugou paused.

The face it bore was familiar: with cheeks tinting pink from the exposed cold, the same eyes he’d known ever since he was a child, hair curled around her face as if it were the frame of a painting.

The resemblance was uncanny. He knew her. 

It all hit him so suddenly: the late nights spent under the stars, running around the forest barefoot, sneaking in through the window at night, watching the fireworks on the top of the hill; secrets, stories, lies — they all came back as easily as he’d repressed them all those years ago.

When she’d lost herself to the sea and left him forever. 

“...Y/N?” his voice came quickly, the name rolling from his lips as the waves did onto the sandy shores of the beach.

She stared at him silently; and perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought he saw her face change at the mention of that lost name. 

It was overwhelming, the way the sight of her face affected his intoxicated mindset. Even though her body was as cold as the ocean around him, he latched on to her — pressing her closely against his chest so as to not lose her once more. 

She struggled under the weight of his grip, assuming he was trying to attack her, fingers digging into the arms he’d wrapped around her; she scratched and pushed but he wouldn’t budge. 

It wasn’t until she heard the sniffling come from above her, paired with the wracking shudders that went through the human’s body as he held her closer did she realize: he wasn’t trying to harm her.

“Don’t leave me..” he cried into her shoulder. “Not again…”

(It was March the last time he’d stepped foot on the Island — freshly graduated from UA and dragged there by his parents for a much needed week-long break after three years of consistent hero work. 

He’d grumbled and grunted about the spontaneous trip the whole way through, complaining about how everyone else he knew was going to start working right away, how he was going to be left behind in the ranks, how it was going to be harder for him to reach Number One now because he’d be starting a week later than everyone else.

It’d been almost five years since he last came though, and as soon as he’d stepped onto the island, he was reminded of all that he’d missed; the salt air hit him as soon as he stepped off the ship, steeped in the scent of the local fisherman at the pier bringing in their daily hauls to be shipped off to the markets — both on the island and overseas — as well as the scent of food rising up in the air. He guessed that there was a festival coming up in the next few days, considering the higher number of tourists than what he ever saw when he came onto the island: confirmed by the flower wreath that’d been placed over the coppered statue of the Maiden and God that could be seen from where he stood.

He was quick to make his way past everything — the aunties squabbling at the market over which beans were the freshest and the retired American couples taking pictures in front of the statue with stupid poses — leaving his parents to go to the small cottage first.

He’d meant to find you at the beach at first — forgoing all your other usual spots for the nice weather; but he was stopped in his tracks when he passed the bookstore, spotting you sitting outside the front steps with a book and ice cream in hand — pink plastic flip flops sliding over the tessellated pavement that lined the shops near the pier.

You hadn’t even noticed him until he was standing right beside you — the hint of a raised eyebrow behind your sunglasses when you squinted up to find him standing there. 

“Hey,” You smiled, pulling him in for a hug as quickly as you could stand up. 

He wasn’t given any time to process the way you’d changed over the last couple years — the inches you grew, the baby fat that had left your cheeks. It’d been so long since he’d teased you for your butterfly clips, or thrown sand in your hair while his mother scolded him. To think that younger him would’ve never considered even talking to you was an understatement — but all of a sudden, Katsuki only seemed to become more than aware of the time that passed since he’d seen you.

You’d always been pretty, he always knew that — but the mature familiarity you held only added to the warmth that rose to his cheeks before he could stop it: your longer eyelashes, the lipgloss you were wearing; and you pulled away only when you realized your ice cream was about to melt onto the pavement before you.

“Hey,” he smiled back.)

His mind remained hazy and foggy when he woke up, faced with the white cracked ceiling that sat above his bed, like your face was a mixture of memory and delusion that had been forced into his pounding head. Bakugou tried to sit up almost instantly, a hand plastered to his forehead in anticipation of the arriving headache that throbbed through his temples.

It was only then, that he realized that the bed he sat in wasn’t that of his childhood with the old All Might bedspread his mother bought and the room wasn’t that of his summers past. 

“He’s awake,” he heard someone (Sero?) mumble from the side — and Bakugou turned to see the friends that sat around his bed; a hospital bed.

Four faces stared at Bakugou with worry, each anxiously awaiting a response as he took his surroundings in with a new interest. As soon as it sank in — the stale sheet covering him, the chairs lined up next to the bed — he was already sitting up in an attempt to pull the IV out of his arm and silence the machine standing next to him, ignoring the concerns of his friends around him. “Stop,” Kirishima quickly corrected him, covering the IV embedded in his arm.

Katsuki refused, still tugging at it until Sero also got up to keep him from moving around, holding his other arm down. He could tell that everyone in the room was holding their breath about something, and he quickly tugged his arms away from both of them after promising he wasn’t going to pull out his IV prematurely.

“What the fuck happened?” he breathed — barely finding his vocal chords in agreement with his thoughts. Apparently more had happened then he thought.

His four friends looked to each other in concern, silently — which Mina broke when she announced she was going to get the nurse — leaving Eijirou as the one to finally answer his question.

“After you snuck away from the bar, we couldn’t find you anywhere.” he spoke slowly, and paused, unable to speak.

 Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows in return. What truth was he trying to hide?

Kirishima pretended not to notice the expression Katsuki bore, clearing his throat before continuing — “We um, found you on the beach… lying unconscious. We didn’t know how you got there or what happened, and you were barely breathing so we rushed you here.The doctor said you drowned.”

“...Drowned?” Katsuki raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Kaminari finally spoke from where he was sitting, standing up awkwardly after a moment. “We were worried about you. We didn’t know if it happened because you’d gotten too drunk or… something.” He paused, after he spoke, considering his choice of wording.

“...Something?” Katsuki repeated, his eyes narrowing.

“All he means is that we were worried,” Kirishima jumped in. “You know, with everything that just happened. And we know that you’ve been–”

“I’ve been doing perfectly fine. You thought I couldn’t handle it? That I’m so fucking weak I couldn’t do anything about it?”

Kaminari quickly tried to step up; “He’s just saying that with your leg and what happened with Mei maybe you’d be–”

“I’d be what?” Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest. “Say it.”

Kaminari quickly flapped open and closed his mouth a couple of times like a fish, finally uttering “upset” to complete his thought. But that wasn’t what he was originally going to say — and it was obvious by the guilty expression he was wearing on his face.

Katsuki scoffed before he spoke, “I’m not fucking suicidal,” he deadpanned, focusing his attention on the two directly in front of him. “Do you think I’m that fucking stupid? Goddammit.”

“None of us said that,” Kirishima attempted to placate the situation once again with fail — Katsuki didn’t respond; instead, opting to lean back against the headrest and stare out the window towards the unfamiliar view of the beach. They were in town, he could tell by the rocky edges where the water met the land — the little clinic on the other side of the pier that could only hold about fifteen people. From here he could see the statues.

A moment passed before Sero finally spoke up from his spot in the corner. “We know you started smoking again,” he started, staring at the ground before shaking his head. “The packet was laying in the sand and the doctor found a lighter in your pocket. You only do that shit when something’s wrong, so clearly you’re not fine.”

Bakugou only groaned, rubbing his forehead between his fingers.

“You know how bad that shit is for you right?” Sero continued, his voice growing tighter with each passing second. “We’ve told you before that–”

“Then stop telling me. I don’t need to hear something I’ve already heard a hundred times.”

“Then stop smoking!” Sero exploded. “How the hell do you expect to go around and save people when you can barely breathe? What’s gonna happen when you get sick and are strapped to a hospital bed? And have you ever thought about us? Does our friendship mean nothing to the point you never listen to us? We’ve gotten you the gum, the patches, everything! But you’ve never used any of them for more than a week–” 

God fucking dammit his head hurt. 

The words were filtering through one ear and out the other. Bakugou only watched as Sero’s mouth moved in what felt like silence as all the words meshed together into nothing. It was the same thing he’d heard over and over and over again. And yet every time the lecture was given it seemed to hold less weight in his mind. 

Maybe it didn’t matter anymore if he couldn’t do hero work. Maybe he welcomed a slow and agonizing death. 

Maybe it was what he deserved.

The nurse came in soon after, Mina following right behind her. She was relatively young and shy, opting to try to stay quiet about the heroes that she was currently surrounded by. It was obvious she knew who they were by the way her eyes lit up when she entered the room, but she quickly subdued herself as she explained to Katsuki what diagnosis the Doctor had given him. 

Apparently, his loss of oxygen to the brain hadn’t been fatal enough for there to be serious injuries. Apparently he’d been found just in time lying unconscious on the beach — but she did mention it was unusual for those who drowned in these waters to end up on the beach, as the direction of the currents in the tide went the opposite way, drifting most out to sea.

Perhaps, he was just lucky.

However, it didn’t help that he’d sprained his already injured leg in his desperation to swim to shore, which had set back his physical therapy for another two weeks.

Kirishima of course, had to make her aware that it wasn’t going to be that big of a deal since he was already seeing a physical therapist on the island: and that it contributed to about fifty percent of their reason for visiting.

The doctor came in soon afterwards as well, giving the basic instructions not letting him exert too much energy and making sure he rested and drank lots of water — letting them out after Katsuki promised he would take his advice. Before they knew it, the group wandered back through the town, following Bakugou’s lead to his parent’s cabin over the hill above the pier, stopping to point out  the fresh produce in the little market store or the little trinkets displayed in the window of the souvenir shop. 

Sero immediately began grumbling about the promise Katsuki had made to the doctor after they set off — which Katsuki staved off by walking ahead of the group and hiding his limp despite the spouts of pain that shot up his leg. In hindsight, it wasn’t the best idea — but he was eager to soak up the afternoon sun after being stuck in the stale hospital air all morning.

Most of the shops they passed were familiar to Bakugou, as he’d spent pretty much every summer before he got into UA on the small island — running between the beach, his house, and the Main Street next to the pier. Each area brought back memories — bringing forth the much younger him that had to be chased down the road by his mother so she could put sunscreen on him or commanding his army of heroes with you trailing behind him.

It was much livelier now than it had been back then; there were newer restaurants and shops that had opened on the pier — including a mermaid themed frozen yogurt place — each more busy than they’d ever been when he’d come throughout his childhood. A few restaurants even required the line to spill outside into the street with the sheer amount of tourists attempting to snatch up the “authentic” island snacks being sold. 

It was easy to realize that there were a lot more tourists available to the island now — not just the old retired couples that came once in while to “relive their young days”; and it became an easy game for Katsuki to look at who was walking by and figure out if they were a local or a tourist. 

A man with a large hat staring at a map next to a woman dressed in a bright floral shirt; Tourists. A mother with a basket swung over her arm and two children licking ice cream as they followed her dutifully; Locals.

Bakugou lost himself in his little game — perhaps as a coping mechanism. He didn’t want to think about what had happened the night before, to relive the hazy memories that swarmed through his brain.

He didn’t want to think about what he saw at the beach. He didn’t want to think about how cold the water was or how all the air was seemingly forced out of his lungs. He didn’t want to think about how she looked just like you did, or the way her eyes seemed to soften at the calling of your name, or the way she’d probably saved him.

Instead, stared longingly at a young boy and girl running past him, tripping over their own two feet at the sound of the ice cream cart’s bell as they chased it down the main street.

A tourist and a local.

The evening came quickly, the house quiet and unbothered; apparently everyone had stayed up all night out of worry, leaving them to fall asleep the second they walked through the door of his small cabin. 

Katsuki stayed in his room, resting, trying to forget — perhaps both at the same time. He’d even fallen asleep after a while of laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Only one thing was clear about the whole situation: it was a dream. It had to have been.

The mixture of booze, exhaustion, and his smoking had finally gotten to him.

Everyone else woke up soon after the sun began its descent down the sky — orange fading into blue as stars stole their way from the edges of the horizon — watching as Bakugou led everyone down the little trail past the few other cottages in the area down to where the beach laid at the bottom of the hill, each carrying speakers, coolers, and chairs for a small party on the beach. For the rest of them, the trip served as one of the few vacations they got in a year, so they wanted to make the most of it.

They eventually reached a small cove near the water — which was secluded enough from the rest of the beach that they wouldn’t be bothered by anyone else who decided to go to the beach that night; and they began setting up as soon as they chose a spot close to the water. They had a fire going soon enough, and Bakugou watched as everyone rushed towards the water as soon as they could to jump in; the sun sparkling over the water as they played and splashed each other, laughter rising over the beach as the sun set.

Bakugou couldn’t help but watch the sun slowly fall — thinking about you. Or the thing with your face. Was it still out there, watching? Waiting?

He considered walking down the beach in an attempt to find her again — maybe pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. But instead, he sat stubbornly next to the fire, watching as the waves ebbed over the sand repeatedly, taking small sips from his beer.

The rest joined him soon enough, each nursing their own sport of drink as they went around the campfire under the night, trading stories and catching up after their busy lives. Bakugou felt like an outsider, despite how long he’d been friends with each — maybe it was because he had no good stories to tell of his own.

It seemed like his entire life had been fucked over in the last couple of months. Everything that’d finally felt like routine had been tossed to the flames in a matter of seconds, and he’d had to watch it burn before his eyes as he writhed in agony.

“Hey, congrats on Number One, Katsuki,” Kirishima finally claimed his attention away from the wriggling fire — holding his beer bottle up in a makeshift toast.

Katsuki knew he was just trying to be a good friend and include him in the conversation — but god he didn’t want to talk about it. It didn’t feel good when everyone’s eyes turned towards him.

“Yeah congrats,” Sero agreed, letting a nod peek through towards him. “It was really recent too, right?”

“Yeah. Before it all went to shit, it was nice,” he grunted in response, letting himself finally rest towards the back of his chair. The silence was uncomfortable — and he watched as each of his friends’ expressions twisted in anguish.

“You’ll get there again,” Kirishima uttered quietly; the other’s silently nodded in response, taking to their drinks instead before Mina spoke up quickly.

“You’re in the top ten now, Ei, right?” she gushed. “That’s amazing!” 

“Yeah I saw that too!” Denki chimed in quickly. “You’re so popular now.”

“Yeah I am,” Kirishima smiled awkwardly, draining the last of his beer before letting the bottle settle in the sand. “I honestly never expected it to happen so quickly — I at least thought I’d have to go on with my record for another year or so.”

“Nah you deserved it,” Sero added quickly, patting him on the back. “There’s a reason why you’re an amazing hero.”

Bakugou stopped listening as the conversation began fading into their hero lives. Denki started talking about how he’d narrowly escaped some aphrodisiac quirk but how awkward he thought it would’ve been — leading to Sero remembering the time an old woman tried to hit on him while he was patrolling a neighborhood he’d never been in before.

And once again, the conversation continued while Katsuki sat silently.

He didn’t want to talk about everything he’d sacrificed to get to his spot — to relive the pain that sat in his memories, weighing on the back of his mind. How the moment he’d felt he had it all crumbled only seconds later when he realized how flimsy the world had become.

He took another sip from his beer bottle, leaning back in his chair, before letting himself comfortably listen to the sound of the water crashing onto the sand. 

To and from.

The sound of its rhythm was the only thing that seemed to keep him there, in that moment. Even if the only thing he was paying attention to was the flickering of the bonfire and the bitterness of the beer he was sipping, he wasn’t letting himself back into that deep, dark place in his mind.

He didn’t realize how long he’d been zoned out for until Kirishima was gesturing for his attention once more — the sky fully dark and the stars overhead gleaming brightly.

“Mina wanted to know about the legend of the island,” he gestured for Katsuki to continue. “The one with the siren or—”

“Mermaid.” Katsuki finished. “It was a mermaid.”

“Yeah, that one,” Eijirou smiled — and Katsuki let out a groan at the grins that were immediately sent his way.

They weren’t really expecting him to do this, were they? But the expectant looks on their faces spurred them on — and all four friends gestured for him to start.

Katsuki sighed.

It was your favorite to recite; never growing bored of it no matter how many times you’d heard it in a day. 

(“Tell the mermaid story!” you’d cheer.)

And you liked to tell it the same way each and every time.

The island natives believed that their ancestry began while a great battle for good and evil was fought — and one god, the god of destruction, became severely injured/ He ended up coming to this island for rest and recovery. 

He was a very vain and prideful god, and when he became well enough, he began to construct shrines for his worship all along the beaches — but there was a problem. Every time he returned to one, they’d been destroyed by the water. It didn’t matter if the tide didn’t naturally reach where the shrine was, because the water level would rise overnight and the shrine would be drifted away to sea.

Eventually, he grew fed up, and decided to wait one night and see what happened. So instead of building one and leaving it, he hid in the trees to see what happened. And at exactly midnight, he spotted a woman emerging from the water — except she didn’t have feet, she had a tail. Under her instruction, the waves rose and washed away the shrines he’d built that day before she dived back into the water.

He was angry, but he was more intrigued by her beauty. The next day he built more to lure her onto the beach, and hid when the night came in order to catch her. She came that night and succeeded in washing away his shrines — but she disappeared as soon as he walked out from the treeline. This went on for a couple nights, the game of cat and mouse, each becoming more and more fascinated and intrigued by the other. Until one night, she didn’t dash back into the water when he came out of the treeline — and by some miracle, the two of them were able to hold a conversation.

This continued for weeks, blooming a friendship neither would’ve ever expected. She was fascinated with everything he told her: about the land, the war he was fighting, the gods and their lives — as he was with all she told him about life in the ocean. 

After a while, he even asked why she kept washing away his shrines. She laughed as she replied, “You cannot expect life to stay the same. The tide ebbs and flows unpredictably, as water carves its own path — you never know when the world will turn it’s back on you. What will you do with your silly shrines when no one is left to worship you? The only true form of worship is through love — of yourself, and those that you hold close to your heart.”

She eventually bore his children, who were said to be the descendants of the natives on the island, and for a while everything was perfect. But, he was eventually called back to his duties — and he left the island, with a promise that he would be back one day. Though he never returned, she waited for him on the shores of the island for the rest of eternity.

Before he left, though, he had built a shrine in her honor at the top of the mountain — her immortal words etched into the side as a show of his love and devotion.

(The look you’d give with that final sentence had always been so wistful, and Katsuki remembered how he’d joked that you’d been the mermaid yourself.)

“That’s beautiful,” Mina sighed. 

“That’s who the statues are, right?” Denki spoke up. “The big one in town?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki grunted. He brought his beer bottle up to his lips, but clicked his tongue when he found it was empty. Standing up, he made his way to the cooler to grab another — only to find there was none left. 

“Are we out already?” Kirishima asked.

“Yeah,” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “S’fine. I’ll go grab ‘em.”

He could see Sero’s expression out of the corner of his eye — but he didn’t really care enough. He clearly hadn’t found the stash hidden away in his dresser drawer. The light of the fire slowly bled away into the dark of night as he followed the pebbly path back up the hill towards the cabin.

For some reason though, as he walked — he could feel the hairs on his neck stand up as if they were on edge, the anxiety rising through his veins. He even thought he heard a splash in the distance — but quickly waved it off. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him.

He reached the cabin quickly, jumping up the porch steps before pausing as he reached to open the door. Your house stared back at him when he looked up, just shy of a couple feet and connected by the little pebbly path; he shook it off as he stepped inside. 

The lights were still on, so it was easy to just walk to the fridge and grab a six pack of beer. He guessed Denki’d bought it earlier when he’d gone out for a little. 

He didn’t even stop to think about grabbing a cigarette from his room, before he was back on the porch and flicking open the lighter sitting in his pocket. A plume of smoke followed as he walked along the trail down to the beach, but not directly back to the campfire where his friends were sitting around. Instead, he wandered down near the shore, watching the sky overhead as it bled into the darkness of the water. 

It was darker than it had been the previous night, with no full moon to give its light. The water wasn’t illuminated tonight, and the thought was unsettling.

Before Bakugou stood a large vast of black, to the point that he could barely tell where the water was hitting the sand. Besides the sound of the water rushing and pushing off the earth, there was nothing that indicated where it started or ended. 

And though the cigarette had done well in holding back against most of his anxiety, the darkness of the water held a fear — that not even the cigarette could get rid of. There would be nothing to watch him drown tonight, nothing that could save him if he was lured again.

As soon as enough time had passed and his cigarette had been smoked down to its bud, he crushed it into the sand quickly, gripping the six-pack tighter between his knuckles as he began his way back to the campfire. However, another splash caught the edge of his ear.

Once again, it didn’t blend in with the natural push of the water, and he paused, watching the water out of the corner of his eye. 

The sound came again quickly, followed by a figure dashing under the water; the six pack of beer was dropped to the sand without hesitation as Bakugou stomped towards it.

“Who are you?”

Only the sound of the water answered back, and Katsuki grumbled under his breath.

“Who are you?” he repeated, his hand sparking in warning. “Answer me.”

There was no response, but he could barely make out the silhouette that poked its way out of the water. It stayed quiet, and Bakugou strode closer, the edge of the water almost touching his shoes.

“Answer me.”

The figure didn’t answer, but it hesitantly swam closer; close enough that he could see its face in the sparking light of his quirk. Your face stared back at him again, confused expression and all — his quirk dying out as his mouth dried. Instead he was left motionless, staring in the dark as his breath quickened.

“Fuck,” he almost fell into the sand as he stumbled backwards. “Go the fuck away. Do you hear me? Get the fuck out! Leave me alone!” He didn’t even notice when his voice cracked, or the way his breath shuddered as if he was about to cry; how were you doing this to him? How was just the sight of your face doing this to him? 

It was like the part of him that had died with you resurfaced, clawing its way up his body to remind him of what he’d repressed for all these years. The younger him — who’d dropped the phone to the floor after he’d found out what happened; whose knees shook as he held the wall to keep himself from falling over out of shock; whose eyes began to water as he sank to the floor — but ultimately hid them away so no one could guess what’d happened.

His knees hit the sand as he forced down the same tears he’d repressed all those years ago — feeling as hopeless as he did when he first found out you’d drowned. That you wouldn’t be there anymore for him to fulfill his promise.

That you were the one person he never got to save.

“Leave,” he whispered weakly, looking up to see the figure that was still sitting there, staring at him. 

It didn’t move. She sat there — observing him.

It felt like hours passed as they both sat there — dazed — not a word in between.

“There you are!” 

It was when Eijirou’s voice hit his ears from across the beach, with a splash following behind as he turned away, that he realized that it wasn’t a dream.

You were actually there — in some form or another.

He swallowed thickly as Kirishima approached — who paused as he spotted the six pack that’d been dropped into the sand hastily, before approaching him. He stared out into the water blankly, only to find it as empty as it should’ve been — but there was a small shell laying in front of him. A gift.

“What happened to you? We’ve been looking for you.”

Something about the shell was familiar — the curves, its color, the grooves on its side. He quickly realized why after he turned it over, and found his name etched into the side in messy kanji; looking back up to the water in surprise. 

How did she find this? Did she know what this was?

“Katsuki?” Eijirou called once again — his voice wavering.

“M’fine. I just remembered something.”

Katsuki didn’t expect to be woken early the next morning; and yet, there he was. It was about six o’clock and he was awake because his phone started ringing. And though he’d initially tried to ignore the buzzing that continued against his nightstand (because he turned off the ringer after three rings), it continued to bother him no matter how much he tried to ignore it. 

After its fourth cycle, he finally gave in — letting out a sigh before snatching the phone up from the bedside table and pushing the green button to finally let the person on the other line speak.

“What?” he croaked after reading the name, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.

“That is a rude way to address your mother,” the voice answered back with a huff, and Bakugou rolled his eyes in response.

“I was sleeping, goddammit. ‘Yer an hour ahead, remember?”

He heard his mom laugh at the realization. “Omygosh you’re right! It’s been so long since we went I completely forgot. Your father and I really need a vacation sometime soon then.”

“Whadd’ya want?” he rolled his eyes. “This was supposed to be a vacation.”

“I know that Katsuki. I wanted to know how the house was doing. Hopefully it wasn’t too dusty, right? The last time we went was about…five-–no six years ago. I don’t think we even got to cover everything properly with the sheets because we thought we’d be there again the year after that. But then remember, that was the year you and Mei got together and you wanted her to come with us and the timing didn’t work out ‘cause of your busy schedule.” “Yes. I remember.”

“Yeah. Anyways, I hope it wasn’t too dusty.”

“It was fine,” he yawned, letting his arms reach towards the headboard. “The sheets helped. And the rest of the house wasn’t that bad. Just needed a little wiping.”

“Ah that’s good,” she hummed, letting a moment of silence pass — and Katsuki grew slightly agitated.

“Was there any reason for this call or did you just want to know how the house was doing?” he grumbled. “Cause if you cared that much, you could’ve just called me the day we got here.”

“Am I not allowed to call you whenever I find fit? I am your mother after all.”

“Can you just spit it out already? I’m tired and I want to go back to sleep.”

“What were you doing all night, huh? Clubbing?”

“Obviously not,” he rolled his eyes once more. “You know there’s nothing like that here.”

“Still the same huh? Just old people?”

“Can you stop being annoying and just tell me what it is?”

“Okay, fine,” she sighed, pausing while Katsuki furrowed his brows. “Y/N’s mother called me yesterday.”

Suddenly his heart was pounding in his chest. Did she know about the thing in the water?

“Okay…” he spoke slowly. “What happened?”

“She found out that you were on the island from some social media thing, apparently. And, uh, she had a favor to ask.”

“What?”

“She was telling me about what happened after Y/N… They apparently just left afterwards. Both of them quit their jobs and moved to the mainland. She said it was too much for them to handle being in the same house with all her things after the funeral.”

Katsuki immediately raised an eyebrow. Where was she going with this?

“So?”

“They left all her stuff behind, Katsuki, because they couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. She said they took a couple of picture frames of her and that was it. But now… her mother regrets that. Deeply. She doesn’t have anything left of her daughter. And both her parents are too busy now to come back and pack up her stuff.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?” 

The pit that had been growing in the bottom of his stomach ached and gnawed at him, thick, like bile rising up his throat. “I know you don’t want to be reminded of her.” Mitsuki replied with a huff. “I know that. But, she was wondering if you could go pack up her things and have them shipped to their new house.”

“Wh-”

“Before you say anything, let me finish.” She interrupted him quickly, and Katsuki gaped his mouth shut. “You’re the only one they trust to do this, Katsuki. They know you cared for Y/N as much as they did. Even with all the years you both spent apart. It would mean a lot to them. Just… help them. For Y/N’s sake.”

For fucks sake. 

Bakugou didn’t speak, letting his hand run over his face as he audibly huffed loud enough for his mother to hear through the other end. Usually Bakugou would’ve been annoyed at his mother for trying to emotionally manipulate him into doing her bidding. And usually, he would’ve been able to refuse everything she said without a second thought. 

But the image of you flashed back from the previous night — the look on your face after he’d yelled at you. 

No.

Not you. 

The thing. 

…Mermaid?

“You gonna answer or what?” his mother invaded her way back into his senses, and Katsuki shook his head before replying slowly.

“...Fine.”

“Actually?”

“Yes goddammit,” he sneered. “I’ll do it.”

“Good. I’ll ask where to get the keys and all that. Just do it when you get the chance, okay? Prioritize yourself first.”

“Okay, I will,” he slumped further into the bed.

“Make sure to put the sheets back over the furniture before you leave. I don’t want it to become too dusty whenever we end up going back.”

“Okay,” he sighed. 

“And don’t get yourself into trouble. I don’t want to hear anything about that in the news.”

“Got it.”

“Also make sure you say hello to-”

“Woman. Will you let me sleep now?” he forced out quickly. He didn’t want to listen to her shit anymore. 

“I’m going to let you get away with being rude because it’s early there. Don’t think you’ll get away with that again you idiot.”

“Whatever, bye.”

“Bye.”

Bakugou tossed the phone back to his side table with little care, hearing it clatter slightly against the wood table before it stayed in place — burying himself back into his bed without a second thought. It wasn’t actually that early, but he’d rather not have had his mother talk his ear off for another hour and a half. 

He already knew he wasn’t going to be able to lull himself to sleep. Not now. It’d been hard enough the night before — and the thoughts of you that’d passed through his mind constantly. And now that he had to go into your house and look through all of your things again? Sleep wasn’t going to welcome him back anytime soon.

His focus quickly changed to the light of the morning on the ceiling — drawing attention to the glow in the dark stars he’d stuck up there many summers ago. They still had some visibility, which was deeply surprising.

You’d actually helped him stick those up, and he’d gotten so angry at you for trying to make little hearts or circles out of them because “that wasn’t how stars worked”. He remembered how you eventually gave up and made your own constellations out of them, and how the both of you made your own stories accompanying each — now stashed away in some notebook hidden in his old bookshelf.

Even the Mermaid and the God were up there, since you’d insisted that they belonged in your imaginary collection of constellations.

It was probably one of the first times you’d ever truly gotten along after years of his mother trying to convince him to be nice to you. He’d always been more confused about why you never seemed to be deterred no matter how much he tried to torture you. 

Throwing sand in your hair. Shoving bugs down your shirt. You’d screamed about those plenty of times. Yet you forgave him. Your persistence was so similar to someone else he knew — but for some reason he found you less irritating. 

Eventually, Katsuki’s gaze rested upon his dresser; the shell sat at the edge, where he’d left it last night, his engraved name facing him but not visible in the darkness of the early morning.

He remembered the day he’d carved his name into it; the last time he’d seen you. The both of you had done it — carved your names into a shell — before tossing them into the ocean together. It was a silly ritual, one he’d mostly humored because you were with him — but you’d said it’d bring good luck. And he believed you. 

How did she, the mermaid, find it? Was it a coincidence, or did she know?

 His entire night had been spent thinking about how it could’ve been possible. It could’ve been a quirk, but… you didn’t have one. And no villains had ever been reported on the island — at least none as powerful to do something like that.

Despite how much he tried to ignore his thoughts, the little memorabilia scattered around the small room only reminded him; the old posters hanging lopsided next to the door and the little stickers covering them, his old bookshelf filled with comics, novels, and little trinkets, even the old patterned quilt that lay over his bed. The view from his window: with the little trail that passed down to the beach and the little cove nearby, and the empty cottage that stood beside his with its barred windows staring back.

Bakugou’s forearm eventually came to rest over his forehead, letting himself breathe for a second before springing up from the bed.

Fuck it. He wasn’t going to try and pretend to sleep anymore.

His back popped as he stretched his arms over his head, pushing onto his hands as he sat up, still exhausted. Sighing, he got up from his bed, stumbling to the dresser to grab a t-shirt and shorts. He dressed quickly, ignoring the scar that sat on his left knee as he pulled his shorts up, shoving his phone into his pocket. 

He caught a final glimpse of the shell on his dresser before he left the room, shutting the door behind him. 

Heroes shouldn’t slack on their training after all.

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when he stepped out, and that only solidified how early in the morning it was. Stars were still sitting in the other half of the darker sky, and Katsuki realized he’d never really seen the sun rise before.

With hero work, he was put onto the late afternoon or night shift — where he came back to his apartment at three in the morning after a patrol, frantically scrubbed off the face paint wore under his mask, and stumbled into bed to be awoken by an alarm the next morning for the cycle to continue.

But now, at least for a couple weeks, he could let himself breathe.

At this point, he knew what he was doing as he stumbled his way down the trail to the beach, running sneakers padding softly in the sand. 

He was quick to start: stretching his legs carefully, the way his mainland physical therapist had shown him to help ease his limp. So far he hadn’t seen any results — but it took time and consistency to see them; unfortunately he didn’t have much of either, not with the official hero rankings coming out in the next month and his reputation hanging on the line. He could only hope that this new physical therapist would be able to address his issues faster so he’d be able to get back to his life. 

His stupid, fucked up life. 

It was when the sun had lazily drifted past the horizon line that Bakugou finished all his stretches for the morning — letting himself sit silently, basking in the warmth. The sky was orange: a beautiful orange, your favorite orange — the color of those mandarins you’d once painted with watercolor and stuck on your wall (while he’d painted All Might instead). 

Your orange.

He barely even noticed the figure in the distance that sat on the rocks until his gaze lazily drifted back towards the water; and he shot up from his spot in surprise, before slowly making his way down the beach, closer to the wet sand where she sat.

It was near where he and his friends had been the previous night, the smudges of their campfire still present in the sand. 

By the cove, she sat, tail swishing slowly as she watched the sun rise — the colors of the day bleeding into the night as it disappeared slowly. She hadn’t even noticed him yet, her back turned as she relaxed into her rock. 

Details sprung out at him instantly: ones he’d never been able to notice at night. Like the pretty orange color of her tail — almost like that of a goldfish, shimmering under the sun. The orange scales that climbed up her waist and the sides of her neck. The fins that protruded from the sides of her head in place of ears.

Eventually, the sound of sand crunching under his running shoes was what alerted her, shoulders jumping as she turned around to see him approaching. She looked wearily at his arrival, and tucked herself further inwards, but she didn’t move from her spot. Bakugou noticed and quietly sat down cross-legged on the sand, as close to her as he could get without getting wet by the water. 

It was silent for a while. And both watched the clouds that passed overhead, the way the stars began drifting further away, how the sun began rising higher in the sky.

“S’pretty,” she whispered out, voice slightly hoarse — Bakugou almost jumped at the sound of your voice coming from the mermaid.

She spoke. 

He sat shell-shocked for a moment, unable to process. It was hard for him to find his bearings, or even wrap his head around the situation — but she was looking at him. Expectantly. 

She wanted an answer.

“The shell was pretty too,” he added, tentatively, watching as the mermaid bobbed her head, like she was agreeing with him.

She met his stare after a couple moments, head cocked as if she was studying him as well — her eyes darting up and down his body before she decided to ignore him. Laying on her rock, he watched as her tail sparkled under the glow of the sun.

Your orange.

(“Is this really fucking necessary?” Katsuki grumbled behind you.

“Yes,” he could hear the huff in your voice as you trudged before him. “It’s the best view of the entire island. Now hold Lord Explosion for a second while I climb over this rock,” you shoved the sad little goldfish bag into his hand before he could respond, jumping to the top of the rock so you could jump off on the other side. 

“Lord Explosion?” he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“You’re the one who came up with the name, not me,” you only shrugged your shoulders with a smirk, reaching your arm out so you could take Lord Explosion from him and he could follow behind you. “Should’ve thought about that before you decided to make it official.”

“That’s Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight to you,” he huffed, scaling the rock with ease before the both of you dropped to the other side. “Can’t even get my fucking name right and you’re still making fun of it.”

“You think I care? The fact that it’s your actual hero name is hilarious,” you chuckled, racing ahead. “Where did you even come up with that?”

“Keep talking shit,” he sneered. “You’ll be the one eating it when I become the most successful hero.”

“Come up with that line all by yourself?” you raised an eyebrow at him — and he rolled his eyes. “We’re here anyways, so shut your trap before you ruin the view with your voice.”

He didn’t respond, but in his head he was ready to cuss you out.

The both of you reached the top of the hill after a few moments, the shrine in sight. 

It was still relatively well maintained as it had been when he went there the first time as a child: the red paint of the gate still intact, the pathway cleared from moss, the bell still gleaming. The crumbling was present though, of the rocks that forged the structure. Most had cracks and moss hanging over.

The both of you quickly paid your respects — Katsuki eyeing the engraving in the gold plate — before you both moved past it towards the cliff. 

From there, the both of you sat — watching the sun fall, the orange lighting up the sky. You could still see the lights from the festival down below — the aunties bustling around in their yakutas, the vendors that had come from the mainland with their games and food, everyone laughing and shouting and talking all over themselves from excitement.

You patted Lord Explosion’s bag, your supposed new best friend and prize from one of the games you’d forced Katsuki to play with you, before holding him off to show him the view.

“Bet you’ve never seen anything like this before, huh?” you asked the fish — and Katsuki couldn’t help the chuckle that it pulled.

The fish looked so dumb — bulging eyes and bubbles thinly floating to the air line while it coasted on the movement of the thin plastic. 

You gave him an annoyed look before tucking the bag back into your arms safely — and Katsuki stared. Somehow. He couldn’t find his gaze to pull away from the way the light reflected off your face; the way you were staring off into the distance. And suddenly, he was fully aware of how close you were sitting, the way your hand shifted right next to his in the dirt, how your pinkies were almost touching.

 It felt like time had slowed, the wind blowing, the smell of salt and the ocean, the trees shifting and the rustling of their leaves. 

The fireworks came soon after the sun set — and they looked beautiful from where the both of you were sitting; just like you’d promised. After a while, you let out a small sigh before letting your head rest against his shoulder; but Katsuki didn’t dare look at you. Something about the way your scent had invaded him was making him unfocused. Jittery, almost. 

In fact, he was so distracted, he couldn’t even find it within him to stay mad that you’d fallen asleep against him — leaving him to carry you back down the trail with your soft breathing against his neck, Lord Explosion in his hand.)

Katsuki recognized the knowing look on Sero’s face when he stepped out of his room the next morning, the pack of cigarettes no longer stashed in his dresser drawer; but he knew better than to say anything and cause another argument that wasn’t needed. Instead, he announced that he was going to his physical therapy appointment to the rest of the group, who’d been sitting around and talking about what they wanted to do for the day since morning. 

They each grumbled out their disappointment at him missing their plans to go hang out at the beach and visit a few stores in town afterwards — but he barely paid any mind. His physical therapy appointment was later in the morning, closer to afternoon. Not right now — and he already knew where he’d be going.

The walk to the town from the cabin wasn’t as long as one might think — seeing as to how winding and unshaded it is from the sun above — but it was nice. It didn’t actually stretch far, which Katsuki remained thankful for with his limp (no matter how much he tried to ignore its existence); so it wasn’t long till he could see the “town” from up ahead.

The main street wasn’t as busy as it had been the day before; it was a weekday, which meant that the tourists who liked to come across for the weekend generally left — leaving it more similar to how it’d been when he used to come — the old ladies that hobbled across the path with baskets filled with vegetables swung over their shoulders, the fishermen at the wharf bringing in their hauls for the morning. More boats were still at sea then there were at the land, white and dotted in the distance as Katsuki passed. 

The small grocery store was the busiest — a couple aunties loudly chatting and grabbing fruit from the outside carts. A couple waved at him as he passed — probably friends of his mother. 

Katsuki pushed past them towards the general store at the corner of the street. It apparently also doubled as a tourist information booth — which Katsuki only realized when he spotted the brochures that stayed stacked neatly outside its doors — pushing open the heavy, oak wood to the air conditioning inside.

The man working at the counter was unknown to him; and he let out a small grunt and a wave when he called out a greeting in his direction. 

The space was cluttered, dark, filled with perhaps the most random assortment he’d ever seen in one spot: stuffed animals and touristy keychains and handmade ceramics and string lights all squished together next to each other. Katsuki knew what he was looking for wouldn’t be left out in the open though, and instead approached the guy at the counter. 

He was young, tanned — probably the nephew or grandson of the man who used to run the place.

“Can I get a pack of Mevius?” Katsuki grunted, almost low enough that the man didn’t hear him — but he nodded quickly before grabbing them from the cabinet behind him and placing it on the grained counter.

“Anything else I can get you?”

“That’s it,” Katsuki concluded quickly — but after hearing the price and shoving a couple bills on the counter, he caught a packet of gum hiding underneath the counter and sprung out a couple of coins for that until the cashier was satisfied. Snatching both and heading outside. 

He was quick to flick a cigarette between his fingers and shove the rest in his pocket while he quickly lit it and stole a drag.

For some reason it was one of the only times he was so acutely aware of his breath — the way it pushed in and out of him slowly, the stress it relieved. It felt like he was actually there. Not just running on command, out of habit.

It wasn’t too long until he found himself outside the door of his new physical therapist for the next couple of weeks. Her office was in her house; a small brick and mortar building, with a sprawling garden out front and a little gate pointing towards a broken fountain. 

She wasn’t as removed from the town as he was — tucked a couple streets behind the main street and the wharf. 

Dr. Furukawa — the sign outside her door read as he pressed the doorbell.

Katsuki guessed she was old, older, by the small plastic slide and blue bicycle with a cartoon superhero’s picture printed all over it. Her grandchildren probably came to visit from time to time. Not to mention that she was said to be the best when it came to hero-work-related injuries; something that only came with many years of experience.

Katsuki almost stumbled out of surprise however, when a younger woman was the one to answer the door — significantly younger than what he’d pictured at least. 

Dr. Furukawa seemed to be in her mid to late thirties — though slight lines crinkled at the edges of her eyes as she gestured for him to follow her inside — leading him to her actual office. 

Pictures of two children lined the halls: a boy around the age of seven or eight and a young girl around the age of three — surrounded by framed drawings and paintings the both had done. Those were her children’s toys outside.

The physical therapy rooms Katsuki was used to were mostly the same. Hard white mattresses, stale air and empty walls. His therapists as well — pushing and prodding at different places for about an hour or so before handing him a sheet with some stretches to do before sending him off for the week. Those worked for smaller occurences — the way his hands and wrists would hurt after overusing his quirk, or accidentally twisting a muscle when dodging a quirk. He’d never been injured this badly before. 

Immediately after being ushered in, Katsuki noticed the difference. Pictures of her and her children, drawings (also done by her children), her hugging (presumably) patients — almost all of them old and white-haired, but smiling at the camera — lined the walls; followed by a couple potted plants that sat at the windowsill, vines reaching past to the floor, and table heaped in blankets. 

There was even a small fountain on her desk — one of those desktop ones you could sometimes find at tourist shops — which he noticed when she pulled the chair up beside the table, which she gestured for him to sit on.

“So, Dynamight, right?” she mused after a moment or two. “What are we here for?”

“Bakugou is fine.” He answered. It didn’t feel right to make her call him that. “About a month ago I was in a fight, n’ my leg got blasted. My knee was shattered and some of my muscles tore. I was in surgery for a long time apparently, and it left a lot of scar tissue.”

She was scribbling something on a clipboard that he’d just noticed she was holding, before she looked up at him again — probably gesturing for him to continue, but he didn’t know what else she wanted him to say.

“Is there any reason you’re here, specifically?” she asked, voice low and tapered. “I’m sure there are more specialized therapists on the mainland.”

“I’ve tried ‘em all already,” Katsuki sighed. “Never really found any lasting results. Most of ‘em just gave me a list of some random stretches and said the results would come themselves.”

“Ah,” she hummed — like she was aware of what he was talking about. But she looked up at him with determination after a moment, setting down her clipboard next to the little water fountain in the process. “Well Bakugou, I hope that isn’t the case here.”

She instructed him to lie down as she got to work, asking first if she could touch his knee and if it hurt when she pressed into certain spots. 

This part he was used to, pretty much every physical therapist he’d been to did these things. But instead of her just pressing and massaging random parts of his legs for an hour before calling it a day — she encouraged him to stand up, walk around, do a couple of squats or high knees before she did something else. 

Eventually, she asked for permission to use her quirk to help aid his process; she didn’t explain much of it to him, only giving the basics. It was some sort of healing quirk: but it was slow and minor. The most she could do at one time was slowly build up threads of the muscles so that they would eventually reconnect on their own, but she couldn’t reconnect them herself.

 She was quiet as she worked, asking Bakugou a couple of questions here and there about him, his life on the mainland — pressing into one spot in his knee or even going as high as twisting his back — answering a few of her own. 

The clock ticked and the waterfall babbled for the majority of his time spent there — but Katsuki enjoyed the silence, even if he didn’t pay much attention to it. 

Throughout most of it, Katsuki kept his gaze on one of the pictures on the wall: of Dr. Furukawa standing next to an older woman and hugging her tightly. 

He knew her; she was one of his mother’s friends, having gone to her house and her come to his house multiple times each summer. 

She’d died of cancer though, when he was about eleven years old, leaving her husband on  his own.

Surprisingly enough though, as she walked Katsuki to the door after the session, he felt better — the limp having slightly tapered off, and the allowance of him to move fluidly once more. It was almost a relief, and he could see the smile on Dr. Furukawa’s face at the emergence of her results.

“Continue doing your stretches,” she told him, opening the front door. “They’ll help you more than they hurt — and they’ll make your results come faster.”

Bakugou huffed at the thought but he didn’t mind doing them as much as he liked to show it — instead just nodding as he walked through the door; he almost stumbled over a girl — about his age — pushing an older woman in wheelchair up the walkway of the old house, to which she apologized profusely while the older woman sat silently, staring ahead.

The main street was busier in the afternoon than it had been earlier — more people were awake, now running their usual errands and walking into different shops and stores to get the things that they needed. Even most of the fishermen were back on the wharf with their catches — the smell of gasoline and fish rising in the air as they shouted at each other from their boats discussing the conditions of the day as Bakugou passed.

He didn’t have any plans to go anywhere specific at that point, but wanted to roam the main street for a little bit.

The statues in the center caught his eye — and out of pure curiosity he walked over to them: the god and the mermaid. 

He hadn’t seen them since the last time he’d come; the both of you had wandered around the wharf before sitting under it with some ice cream at one point while you talked about some different interpretations of the mythology and its different endings.

It was a beautiful, bronze statue — standing high over the wharf, watching the reef and the boats as they drifted in and out of the harbor day after day. The God was portrayed to be strong, muscular — thick legs holding up a stocky build, a sword in his hilt — while he carried the mermaid in his arms: her tail flapping over his arms as the both of them stared at each other, smiling. Deeply in love.

The plaque at the bottom read the same as that of the shrine: “The only true form of worship is through love — of yourself, and those that you hold close to your heart.” 

The Mermaid’s quote was a famous one on the island —  something the older folks held dear while tourists got to wear it on t-shirts and sip coffee with it facing them. 

He’d actually saved someone wearing a pin with the quote on it once: it was blue and had colorful stripes behind the wording — which wasn’t exactly an eye-catching combination but he would’ve pretended to ignore it either way.

Eventually, he found himself standing outside of one of the little tourist shops — squished between the frozen yogurt place and one of the new restaurants that overlooked the pier — pushing open the heavy, glass door for a glimpse of what was inside. 

It was just as he remembered it, filled to the brim with little trinkets and gadgets, candies and memorabilia. Little glass figurines of the mermaid and the god intertwined on the sand overlooked the room, staring from atop the highest shelves as Bakugou stepped in.

He felt too large and overpowering in the small, cramped space — almost like it was wrong for him to be there; it’d been so long since he’d wandered in.

You used to love walking in: tracing the fingers of the mermaid on one of the figurines, shaking the snowglobes aggressively to watch the snow settle gently over the small island, chatting with the few tourists who were looking around — and the old man loved when you visited. Bakugou always thought it was because you were always able to convince the tourists to buy the most expensive items, but now that he was thinking about it, he was sure the old man liked you just because you gave him company.

He’d always been apprehensive of talking to the adults on the island, but you treated them each as friends and relatives — dragging Bakugou around to do the same. He hated doing so, but the old man always treated the both of you to frozen yogurt after every visit.

“Don’t tell your parents,” he’d say with a wink while handing you a couple dollars each, watching you both with a smile as you skipped next door.

He’d even done so the last time he was there — and though the both of you rolled your eyes at the idea, he’d insisted — and the both of you’d walked next door with small smiles on your face to the idea of getting something sweet and cold as an escape from the humidity and heat for free.

One of the larger glass figurines caught his eye instantly — a direct replica of the statue, down to the inscription at the base — except it was colored: the mermaid’s cheeks rosy and warm while the god was dressed in gold, shining armor. 

It’d been there since his first visit to the island: the shining diamond of the souvenir shop. Tucked away in a glass case it sat for all those years — waiting for someone willing to pay the price for it.

“Ah, Bakugou,” a voice called out — and Katsuki’s head whipped around to meet those of the man who’d run the shop since he was a child, peeking through the cramped shelves towards the register.

And there he sat — the same smile and cheerful eyes. Just as all those years ago.

But Bakugou was quickly made aware of the time that passed as he stepped closer: the thinning gray hairs, the wrinkles that decorated his eyes and the frailness of his hands coming into view — the weariness he held in his face.

He was no longer like the young — though Bakugou had always referred to him as old — spritely man who’d be chatting with tourists and pushing past their attempts at bargaining with ease, arguing with old friends whenever they wandered into the shop for a couple minutes of cold air, or offering the lollipops he’d hid behind the counter to the children who behaved well.

Suddenly, Bakugou was all the more aware of what’d happened. The time that’d passed since he’d last seen him. 

It was strange. 

“Mr. Yoshida,” Bakugou grunted after a moment, making his way over. 

He seemed to tower over the man now — just as he had felt about the entire shop — even though he’d been taller than him since he was about thirteen. Somehow, Yoshida’s larger than life personality had always made up for it. 

But now, with what seemed like the empty shell that was left, it all seemed to be lost. 

“You’ve grown,” Yoshida smiled, the same crinkles coming back.

“Yeah.”

“I hope the attitude grew out as well,” the man chuckled, mostly to himself, but Katsuki let out a small smile.

“Of course,” he nodded. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” the old man waved off his own response. “You know how it is here — same old, same old. Nothing has really changed since you last came. Tourists come and go. I’d say you’re the one who’s had interesting things though.”

“I guess,” Katsuki shrugged.

 “I’ve watched your fights on the telly. It was funny. I didn’t recognize you at first. You’ve changed a lot.”

Katsuki let out a polite nod. He’d heard that phrase too much recently.

“I’m proud of you though,” Yoshida continued. “It’s amazing work you’re doing out there.”

“Thanks.”

“Just don’t forget about us little ones,” Yoshida winked, before standing up from his chair, hobbling out from behind the counter. “But, I also have something for you.”

Bakugou blinked when Yoshida pressed a set of keys into his hand, staring at the small All Might keychain that was attached. For some reason it looked familiar.

“What… is this?” Bakugou stared back up at the man, confused.

“I assumed it was why you walked in,” Yoshida gave him a look. “Your mother called about you coming in to grab ‘em ‘cause you were cleaning out the house for ‘em —  Y/N’s parents, I mean.”

Realization dawned suddenly, and he stared down at the keys, not even noticing that he was holding his own breath.  

He’d gotten you that keychain for your eighth birthday.

He couldn’t even find much in him to hold the small metal ring in his hands, something about them made him feel uneasy.

“It was a surprise for her parents when they found out I had ‘em. They had no idea ‘till I told ‘em. Everything was strange after that.”

Bakugou only stared silently at the keys, shoving them deep into his pocket after a moment to let out a breath. The weight on his shoulders felt heavier — his feet further cemented where he stood. He could only look down at his shoes as his mind went blank and his breathing flattened.

“She would've been proud of you, you know?”

Bakugou’s head snapped to Yoshida’s face instantly, eyes running over his face, trying to read his expression.

“She’d been very excited, you know?” he continued. “Thought it was the most amazing thing that you were gonna go out and be a hero. Never stopped talking about it.” Yoshida shook his head in memory. “You should be proud of all you’ve done,” he smiled. 

It was supposed to be warm, and inviting. A compliment. 

“Thanks,” Bakugou answered stiffly. 

The air felt stuffy — his heartbeat erratic and his throat tightened.

He’d already turned around and was ready to head out the door, but was stopped by Yoshida’s voice calling out. 

“D’you want some froyo?”

Bakugou snorted before turning back, to see Yoshida offering out a couple dollars like had when he was a child.

“Maybe another time,” Bakugou responded before he walked out.  

Evening fell relatively quickly — without much of a chance for him to protest against his friends after being away from them for the entire day. 

It was how he found himself sitting in a booth at the back of one of the restaurants on the pier, squished in with the rest of his friends as they told him about all they’d done at the beach while he was gone.

“...and then Sero smacked the volley ball all the way to the other side of the beach,” Kaminari wheezed. “It was so funny! It took us like thirty minutes to find it and bring it back.”

“I told you guys it wasn’t on purpose,” Sero rolled his eyes, grabbing a long sip from his beer. 

“It was totally on purpose,” Kaminari whispered in Katsuki’s ear when Sero faced the other way — and Katsuki sighed as he sank into the back of his chair.

“You know what was super weird though? That big pile of shells and seaglass that were just laying by the cove,” Mina suddenly spoke up from the opposite side. 

She’d been busy whispering to Kirishima for most of the conversation, only deciding to speak up after he’d walked up to the bar to grab more drinks for the table.

Katsuki’s ears pricked up. “Just sitting there?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “I guessed some kids were scavenging and forgot about it. It was fun decorating sandcastles though.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sero chimed in. “It’s a weekday, all the kids are at school.”

“But still–”

That definitely couldn’t have been a coincidence, right? Why else would they appear where he’d been meeting — well, seeing her?

And did all these things constitute as gifts?

“How was your new therapist?” Kirishima offered as he pushed a new round of glasses onto the table before scooting in next to Mina.

“She’s fine,” Katsuki shrugged. “Seems to already be doing better than everyone else I’ve seen.”

“That’s good,” Eijirou took a sip of his beer. “I’m also honestly, really glad that we all came here with you. It wouldn’t have been easy for you to deal with all of this stuff on your own, you know?”

“Yeah,” Bakugou nodded slightly, passively agreeing. He wasn’t really paying attention though.

One of the waitresses was standing off to the side, whispering to another while making it obvious she was looking at their table. 

Katsuki thought they’d been lucky this far to not have run into issues with fans and paparazzi. And they probably had been despite the hassle it was for all of them to get out of Japan without alerting every single news station possible. The natives mostly all knew Katsuki or his parents  and thus understood he didn’t want to be bothered; and the American tourists clearly didn’t care about heroes who weren’t their own besides the few die hard superfans. 

Of course there were those who came from the mainland, but they’d made it a point to stay hidden when the ferry arrived to avoid unwanted attention.

But instead of what he expected, the waitress walked up to the table after a moment — clearly unable to make eye contact with any of them, but smiling as she spoke.

“My name’s Kareena, I’ll be your server,” she announced, bowing tightly. “Are you guys ready to order?”

He knew exactly who she was. The girl from earlier, the one who he’d seen pushing her grandmother up the pathway towards Dr. Furukawa’s house. She was pretty — though clearly not fully Japanese —her slightly foreign features fit her face nicely; such as the slightly curly hair that fell just past her ears and tucked from her face behind a small pin with a seashell. 

It was obvious that she was nervous; she clearly knew who they all were — stuttering over a couple words or even accidentally dropping her pen once or twice. Everyone stayed patient as they ordered, to which she offered a big smile before she walked back to the kitchen.

It seemed each pair of eyes at the table instantly turned to Katsuki, and he in turn, gave them all a sneer.

“What?”

“Nevermind…” Kaminari shook his head — and the conversation turned to other things.

Most of dinner stayed uneventful: the eventful part being when Kareena arrived with bottles of water for the table and accidentally spilled one of them over Katsuki’s lap as she was setting it down — but he got over it quick enough.

The food was delicious: fresh oysters, crabs, and fish straight from the ocean — the scent of it on each, steeped in broth or sauce, fried or boiled or baked. It occurred to him quickly that he’d barely eaten anything all day — just a mandarin he’d stolen off the tree in your yard. Katsuki didn’t ever think he’d ever felt so full before. 

The restaurant was new. It had never been there when he was a child. But guessing by its angular cut furniture and generally minimalist decor it was mostly for the tourists: a new attraction for them to flock to when they ventured over. At least the food was worthy, unlike some of the other places that didn’t prove true to their boastings in the slightest.

Eventually, after eating enough to induce about ten food comas — the moon hanging high over the sky — the group decided it was time to start heading home. Kirishima was already trying to convince everyone to get froyo with him, to which Kaminari replied he’d “explode” if he did (looking at Katsuki with a stupid smile etched on his face). Everyone chipped in quickly as Kirishima decidedly told them they were all going to the froyo place whether they like it or not — groaning and grumbling, but begrudgingly following behind him as he led them out the door. They all knew it was a trap: the second they saw Kirishima with his, they’d all want some. 

Bakugou had shoved his wallet back into his pocket, rolling his eyes as Sero and Kaminari laughed like banshees about something either had said, as he followed them out the door.

“Mr. Dynamight?” a voice rang out behind him — his fingers brushed against the door handle — and he turned to see Kareena holding out his credit card. He’d forgotten it, apparently.

And somehow, despite how well known his name was, none of the other diners cared; the restaurant settled in its peaceful chatter, the occasional clinking of spoons against bowls or the metal chopsticks against plates banding together. 

“Ah. Thanks.” 

She dropped it into his open palm, giving him a slight, polite bow — but not letting him turn back as she cleared her throat.

“I, uh… Sorry for spilling the water on you,” she stared at the ground, her fingers ringing together nervously. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”

“Oh. S’not a big deal,” he replied absent mindedly. “S’just water.”

“Of course,” she said, her voice still wavering. Apparently that wasn’t all she’d wanted to tell him. “I was wondering… and um, obviously you don’t have to say yes, but… could I apologize by buying you lunch?” 

Her voice came out stumbled, breathy and quick — and Bakugou only blinked in response. His mouth opened quickly before he closed it again, gaping at where she stood. What was he supposed to say?

She quickly picked up his hesitation, shaking her head before quickly pushing out a “It doesn’t matter” and a “Don’t worry it’s fine” before she walked away — leaving him to feel lightheaded as he pushed his way back out the door.

Everyone had been waiting — having watched his interaction through the glass door, but not hearing anything. Somewhere through it all, Ashido had nestled herself into Kirishima’s side, their hands rubbing together in the breeze.

“What happened?”

“I think… I just got asked out,” Katsuki replied. He was lightheaded, dizzy — and for some reason he felt like he was about to throw up.

“What’d you say?” He heard Kaminari’s voice exclaim from the side, but he couldn’t find anything in him to form an answer.

“By that reaction we all know he said no.” Sero answered for him, contempt in his voice as he started walking towards where the froyo shop sat in the distance — the rest following almost silently behind.

Katsuki found himself staggering behind the group — for some reason focused on the way Ashido and Kirishima’s hands stayed interlocked in front of him as they walked, occasionally speaking to one another in hushed, low, voices. Sometimes she would giggle at something, and he would press an arm around her waist to squeeze her tight, her head resting on his shoulder.

And despite everyone’s grumbles about being full, they all ended up with a cup in their hands as they walked to go sit outside. 

Bakugou barely registered the taste of his mango yogurt, leaving its soft, bittersweet aftertaste lingering on his tongue as he sat — watching the rest. 

Eventually Kaminari piped up from beside him: “Why’d you say no?” 

Katsuki shook his head, trying to push the thought out of his head. Why was everyone his fucking case about everything all the time? First his mom and your parents, and now this?

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” he muttered back — watching as Kirishima fed Mina a spoon his yogurt while she laughed.

(“How could you do this?” Mei stormed out of the bedroom of their shared apartment, clutching at her forehead in anger.

Bakugou huffed as he followed after her, stumbling to put the boots for his hero costume on. “Listen, Mei,” he called out after her. “Mei! Can’t you see how fucking good this would be for my ranking? And-”

“Can’t you see that maybe I don’t care!” 

“You don’t care? You don’t fuckin’ care about my life?”

“Are you fucking kidding me Katsuki?” She spun back around. “The mission is optional! You could’ve just said no! There are plenty of other heroes ready and able to go.” 

“I had no choice!” his tone raised. “Deku just passed me because of attacks in the islands! I have to get there first!” 

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “You didn’t have a choice.”

“Fuckin’ listen to me!” he shouted, watching as she startled, staring at him with wide eyes — his heart began to crack. He stopped and pinched his forehead after a moment. “Mei. Look, I really don’t wanna fight right now. Can’t you see how much this would help me in the future? I’d get to build up my status across the world and-”

“Build up your status?What about us?” 

“Us?” he echoed. “What about us? We’re together, I just bought this apartment for us.”

“Please,” she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “You bought this apartment so you could impress people with a house more fitting for someone of your ranking.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” he guffawed. “I bought this place thinking about our future!”

“Our future is later!” she huffed. “What about our now?” He paused, cradling his temple in his fingers before he looked back to her — his voice dropping to a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

“To spend time with you. For us to be away from everyone else for a bit. Just for a week,” she pleaded. 

“If the Hero Commision specifically chose me for this mission, then what do I do? I have to fucking go!” he sighed. “And if it all works out, they’ll start giving me better hours. Can’t you see that?”

She frowned. “And what about our deal?” 

He huffed as turned away, looking back at her with a pained look. “We can still go when I come back!”

“Katsuki,” she was still staring at him with wounded eyes, her voice almost dropping to a whisper. “It was my birthday.” She sighed. “It can’t wait until you get back.” He could spot the tears that’d begun to well up her eyes, hear the way her voice began to crack as she spoke. “In the past year, when was the last time you didn’t come home when I was already sleeping, or woke up when I hadn’t left for work yet? When was the last time you got an evening off for us to go out for dinner? Or even to just stay at home and watch a movie together?” She sniffed, pulling away from him to wipe a stray tear. “And you promised me that no matter what happened we’d go on this trip together. And then you canceled the tickets without telling me?”

“Mei, I’m sorry,” he stepped closer, trying to keep her from backing away once more, his thumbs coming to swipe at the tears that fell. “You can’t even imagine how bad I feel. But I can’t…” 

And at that, his phone began ringing. 

He stared at her apologetically, whispering “it’ll just take a second” as he answered it.

She sighed before shaking her head silently, gathering up her purse and keys from where she’d left them on the couch before walking out the door.

It was when the door slammed behind her that Katsuki realized what’d happened, dropping the phone to the floor as he chased after her.

The street was busy: pedestrians and cars alike — most of them stopping once they’d noticed Dynamight in their presence. 

Katsuki could barely make her out of the crowd, pushing past the old lady at the bus stop and the kids drawing on the ground with chalk as he tried to reach her before it was too late. To stop it before it was too late.

He was close. He was so close. Close enough that he could see that she was rubbing her eyes as she made sure to stay away from his voice. That if he reached his arm out far enough he could fix it. 

Through the noise of the street and the fans who were trying to placate him into giving them an autograph — he didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late. 

Until Mei was in the direct line of fire. Until the world began to move in slow motion as he rushed ahead and pushed her out of the way, the light fading to black.)

to be continued....

#keke.writes #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mermay 2023 #(except very late whoops) #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x fem!reader #mha #katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha scenarios #my hero academia #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero x reader #mermaid au #pro hero dynamight #pro heroes #bnha angst #mha angst

[smashboxgirl26]

[7:28]

katsuki x gn! reader contains: flufff

You wake up early that morning to Katsuki sleeping beside you, his face soft and exhausted as his chest rises and falls slowly under the sunlight streaming in through the curtains.

It’s early — earlier than when you usually wake up — early enough that Katsuki is still passed out and lightly snoring under his breath. Though that may also have to do with the fact that he’d gotten home after midnight.

You take a second to stretch as you push yourself towards the edge of the bed, curling and uncurling your toes before they make contact with the cold floor below. You find yourself pausing to stare back at Katsuki before you head off to the kitchen, a small grateful breath leaving you — knowing that he came home safe the night before, that he was still with you.

The kitchen floor is cold when you walk in, a robe wrapped around your frame as you tiredly make your way to the fridge.

Katsuki is usually the one to wake up early and do this: he said he liked getting up before the rest of the world was awake just for you, just for the both of you to share those small moments before he was busy for the rest of the day. 

It was routine for him to grind the coffee beans from the expensive bag  he’d been gifted from his agency for Christmas, to put them into the coffee machine with two mugs waiting underneath, and start making breakfast while waiting for it to finish. Sometimes he’d make waffles or pancakes if he was up earlier than normal (or if he was just in a good mood), but more often than not he made scrambled eggs with half a bagel for both of you.

It’s almost as if you’re following a ghost of him, a figment of the times you were up early enough and got the chance to watch him while kicking your feet on the counter, as you go through the motions in the steady silence of the kitchen — a small smile rising up to your face. He wouldn’t be expecting this when he woke up.

When the coffee machine beeps that one cup is finished, your back is turned as Katsuki walks in — tired and grumbly. 

You only notice his presence when he alerts you, a “Morning” grumbled into your shoulder as his arms find their place around your waist, heat radiating through your robe.

“Morning,” you lean your head against his, placing your coffee cup under the coffee machine while pushing his to the side. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not really,” he mumbles, his nose burying into your neck. “Got home super late. You were sleeping.”

“Go back to sleep then.”

“Can’t. Not without you.”

You almost find a grin cracking on your face from his words — even though it’s the same vice–versa. 

He lifts his head up from your shoulder with a small huff as he grabs his coffee. “Thank you.”

#just a little thing i came up with while writing chapters and stuff #i think i needed some fluff though so :)) #keke.writes #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugou angst #bakugo angst #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst #bakugou katsuki x reader

[smashboxgirl26]

washing machine heart

college student! jean kierschtien x college student! reader a/n: late but for my bby jean's bday bc he's little secret bf <33 (also i know that the song washing machine heart is not implying this scenario at all but i thought it was cute and it's 12 am so i dont care)

It was about three am when you stumbled into the laundromat, immediately blinded by the fluorescent lights (and you could just feel the way they buzzed into your eyebags) with your stupid laundry basket that was filled to the brim tucked under your arm. Your dirty, old converse squeaked across the linoleum floor as the doorbell chimed, alerting the only other guy who was there — tucked in the corner at the table by the washers, hunched over to do his homework — but you couldn’t really find the energy to care about your disturbing presence: not when you hadn’t done your laundry in almost a month and needed a pair of panties for the next day. 

You went through the sluggish motions of dumping all your clothes into washer (trying to separate lighter and darker colors but ultimately leaving the couple of white socks that got thrown in with the dark clothes because you just didn’t care at that point) and adding the detergent and softener before plopping yourself down at one of the tables near the front.

You’d made sure to stick your laptop on top of your clothes before you left your dorm so you could try and finish your final project that you’d been procrastinating for way too long; but even as it sat in front of you on the table, you couldn’t really find the will to open it. Not when you’d been sleep deprived for this long. 

Instead, you let your eyes wander towards the guy who was sitting at the table across from you, studying the crinkle in his eyebrows as you let yourself stare off into space — only the sound of the washers and dryers running in the background. 

Something about his brown eyes and mullet looked familiar, maybe you both took a class together; or you both stayed in the same hall? 

Eventually, your eyes landed on the dog bed that was laying on the seat next to him — wrinkling your nose in surprise. You hadn’t seen any dog when you walked in.

But your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of huffing coming from your feet, and you peered down to see a tiny black chihuahua staring back up with needy eyes. As soon as you made eye contact, he jumped up onto your lap and sat down — like he’d picked you to go home with — before pawing at your arm as if he was urging you to pet him.

The guy noticed after a couple seconds, rolling his eyes at the dog as he apologized. 

“Ah, sorry about him. Max, c’mere.”  He tried to lure Max back with a treat, and when that didn’t work, he stood up from his table to come pick the little dog up. But as soon as he got close, the dog growled from his spot in your lap — and the guy just frowned.

“Hey, what’re you growling for?” you looked to the little dog, who’d now taken to staring up at you with his big, empty looking eyes.

“I've been dog sitting for my sister for the past week,” the guy groaned, watching as Max made himself comfortable again in your lap. “And he doesn’t really like me that much for some reason. How’d you make him so comfortable with you in like, five seconds?”

“I didn’t try to,” you shrugged, just letting out a small laugh. “I guess I’m just the dog whisperer.”

“Lend me some of your powers then,” he shook his head. “Max hasn’t let me touch him all week, let alone coming and sitting in my lap like that.”

“I honestly don’t know why, but dogs have always liked me,” you let your hand fall over Max’s head, letting out a small chuckle as he moved his head under your hand to insinuate for you to keep petting him. “My sister used to get so upset when she realized our dog liked me way more than it liked her.”

“Well, guess I can’t go against fate now can I?” he let out a small smile, watching as Max continued to push for you to give him attention — eventually sitting down at your table and sticking out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Jean, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you reciprocated the action, though Max appeared distressed at your hand leaving his head.

“I feel like I'm taking a class with you or something.” Jean stared off like he was thinking. “You just look really familiar.”

“Do you say that to every girl you meet?” you teased, watching a flustered expression jump up to his face.

“What? I wasn’t — That wasn’t… I didn’t mean it like that.” He corrected himself before letting out a small laugh. “I was being serious, I swear.”

“I’m just joking,” you laughed. “I was actually thinking the same thing. What dorn do you live in?”

“Harrison Hall.”

“That’s where I am too.” You couldn’t really help the cutesy little smile that rose up to your (probably exhausted looking) face. “I knew I saw you around there somewhere.”

“I always come here ‘cause the washers and dryers on my floor are basically broken,” Jean let his elbows rest on the table. “I think it’s also cheaper to do it here anyway.”

“That’s the same reason I do it here,” you nodded. “And there’s no parties going on in the background when you’re trying to study and do laundry at the same time.”

“That’s true,” he laughed. 

“All right Max,” you turned back to the round eyes staring at you from your lap and patted his head softly. “I’m gonna give you back to your uncle now, so I can finish my project and turn it in.”

Max protested at first when you put him into Jean’s hands, but he seemed to calm down when Jean stroked his ears and placed him back in his bed where he promptly fell asleep.

You sent Jean a small smile before finally opening your laptop, for perhaps the thirtieth time that night, ready to finally finish your conclusion and get your project over with.

You had to stop halfway in between when the washers you used alerted you that your clothes were done and had to be stuffed in the dryer. All of Jean’s clothes were basically done by that point, which he stood at one of tables to fold them — while only one remaining batch tumbled in the dryer. He’d be done soon though, which you were envious of.

When you finally finished your stupid paper, submitted it, and slammed your laptop shut, you looked back to see that there was still a while for your clothes to finish drying; immediately, in your sleep depriven state, you let your head fall to the table to take a short nap while whispering lies about how you’d wake yourself up in five minutes.

It wasn’t until the doorbell chimed once more that you woke up: needing to shield your eyes from the sun coming in through the windows of the little laundromat

You groaned, realizing you had to get your clothes out of the dryer before someone took them out and just dumped them somewhere, but stopped when you noticed them all neatly folded and placed in your laundry basket — sitting right next to you on your table.

On top, though, laid a little sheet of paper with Jean’s number and a smiley face.

#bye this is lowkey bad but i don't care i finished it and now im going to sleep #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #aot x you #aot drabbles #aot x reader #aot jean #snk drabbles #snk fanfiction #snk jean #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschtein headcanons #jean krischtein #keke.writes

[smashboxgirl26]

in another life — i knew you were mine.

ph! bakugou x reader / soulmates au! for @klamydia423 as a part of 900 follower event!! hope you enjoy it!!

You weren’t really thinking of anything specific when the cement cracked under you. It was more of a rush of adrenaline than anything else — the shock as you clutched your torn messenger bag close to your chest.

However, the only lingering thought that you could remember, even after you’d fallen and your knees were scraped and bruised, was that you hoped your heels hadn’t scuffed in the process. You had a job interview: and while you being late could be accepted under your current circumstances, for some reason your mind couldn’t justify walking into that huge office with scuffed, dirty shoes.

There were people screaming in the distance — it was something you could hear, but not really register; even the sounds of blasts and shouting from the distance had no meaning in your ringing ears. Instead you sat, layered in the dust and rubble of the fallen overpass, thinking about your shoes.

The teetering sound of concrete above you was lost, and it was only at the last second that you looked up: helplessly watching as a chunk of concrete broke off just above your head, mouth open wide and staring.

For a second you closed your eyes, perhaps just as a last ditch attempt of your brain trying to protect you from your emptying mind — but instead of feeling the weight of the world press you deep into the ground, a different sensation overtook you: hands, around your waist; hot hands.

When you opened your eyes once more, your breath came out staggered and ragged — almost like you couldn’t believe you were still able to breathe; though they were nothing compared to the those of the hero who’d saved you — short, puffs of air stumbling from his nose as the both of you tumbled into the grass of the park on the other side. 

Blonde hair and furious eyes appeared into your view as you laid there on the grass, and you suddenly regretted being saved. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight wasn’t exactly known for his kindness towards the civilians he saved. 

And yet, though his eyes were scrunched and his lips were pursed in an anger that was clearly directed towards you as he picked himself off the ground, no obscenities were hurled at you for not paying attention and moving out of the way. Instead, his eyes wandered over your face: slowly, methodically, thoughtfully.

“Yer okay?” he asked, a husked, quieted voice instead of the shouts you were used to hearing on the TV.

His gloved hand came up to press against your temple, and for a minute you weren’t even sure what he was looking at until you spotted the knotted concern in his tinged eyebrows and maroon eyes.

“Yer bleeding.”

With that, he’d scooped you up in his arms once more, quickly blasting towards the other side of the park (where you’d guessed the medical help was laying) while you clutched to his costume, face buried into his chest while air whirled past your ears.

When you got there, you’d noticed the three other heroes that had joined the fight — though they were moving too fast (or you were too out of it) to tell who they were as they whizzed over the treetops of the park trading blasts and punches. You did realize that the villain had some sort of earthquake type quirk, which he’d obviously used in order to distract the heroes from fighting him with the need to save civilians, such as yourself. 

But even after Dynamight had handed you off towards one of the paramedics stationed, and you were ushered to one of the ambulances — you looked back to see him still standing there, watching you with unsure eyes; though he eventually shook his head and propelled himself back up into the fight, it was enough that you could suspect something brewing beneath the surface. 

It took a little less than an hour for the fight to end, and you watched from where you were huddled in the ambulance as the heroes successfully captured and reprimanded the villain before handing him off to the police. You were feeling slightly better by then, after having all your wounds bandaged and being force-fed water and small crackers by the paramedic who’d taken care of you. He explained you’d probably suffered a minor concussion from hitting your head on the concrete when you fell — which explained the bleeding and the fogginess you’d experienced immediately afterwards.

You were grateful, of course: for being saved, for being alive — but your mind wandered back to your job interview. They’d be understanding and all, but now your heels were all scuffed.

Even worse, your messenger bag had gotten lost in the fray of chaos — containing your laptop and phone — but you knew better than to go back and try to look for it again.

After a couple minutes, when the paramedic finally decided that you seemed well enough to be able to go home (and it was also safe), he handed you another cup of water for your walk and ordered you to rest for the next day or so.

What you hadn’t expected though, was to see Dynamight, again, standing near the edge of the medical era while on his phone with your messenger bag in hand. Your eyes widened when you recognized the (now cracked) bunny keychain your roommate had given you hanging from its side — and you approached him gently, still taking small sips from your water cup.

“You found my bag,” was all that came out of your mouth, and his head whipped towards you, his eyes softening instantly.

“Yeah,” he looked down toward your bag, like he was checking it was still in his hands before handing it off to you. After a second or two, (and gaping and closing his mouth a couple of times like a fish) he started to walk off — which you took as him leaving, until he turned back around and gestured for you to follow him. 

“M’walking you home,” he said simply when you caught up to him. “Don’t think it’s right to let you leave alone with your injury.”

You nodded silently, leading him towards the edge of the park back towards the city — but your mind was buried with questions. If Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight was actually normal in real life, what was up with the persona? From all the years you’d seen him on TV, you’d never seen him act like this. Did he do it to differentiate himself? 

He walked beside you, hands shoved in his pockets, basically looking at everything around him but you — but you were pulled in for a surprise when you both stopped at a crosswalk and he finally turned to you.

“We’re soulmates,” he grunted.

“What?” You gaped up at him, almost dropping your bag completely.

“We’re soulmates,” he repeated. “You might’ve forgotten in this life, but I can tell. I can always tell.”

#keke.writes #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha #mha

[smashboxgirl26]

i will keep falling

bakugou x gn! reader / college au a/n: happy birthday to me ig >:))

It’s funny to think of the way you squeezed your way into Bakugou’s life without much effort. 

Sure, it started off through a randomly assigned group project — but he’d rather not think of it that way. Maybe it was all the romance novels he’d jumped back into after he’d met you, but he liked to think that it was planned —

That you would both be paired up, and that the two of you would end up going to Kirishima’s stupid Halloween party together after only two weeks of friendship just to become inseparable ever since.

It was strange to think that a person he’d never even talked to until a couple of weeks ago was now the first person on his mind everyday, the person who appeared most on his notification bar (in both calls and texts), the person he wanted to tell everything to (though he believed he’d already told you almost everything there ever was to know about him) — and he knew that it was vice versa.

It was — strange, to say the least, to feel that open with someone while whole–heartedly knowing they felt the same way as you did. The wall he’d so meticulously built had fallen with just the tap of your finger — and he hadn’t tried to stop you.

The weekends you would end up crashing at his apartment after a party, stumbling through his hallway while drunkenly laughing at everything he did to try and keep you quiet; the quiet moments spent in the library that were supposed to be for studying though they always devolved into you doodling in his notebook; sleeping on top of him during movie nights, your head on his chest, his fingers running through your hair — every moment spent with you made him feel awake, as if every experience with you was something new.

“It’s so weird that we wouldn’t have been friends if it wasn’t for that group project,” you’d said to him a couple of days ago — the both of you sat under the tree in the quad to soak up the last good weather before winter hit.”

“That’s true,” he’d murmured back, though he rolled his eyes because he was doing his math homework while you just scrolled on your phone. “But I still think we would’ve ended up meeting somewhere.”

“How?”

“I dunno,” he looked up, pen now resting against his textbook. “We would’ve met at Kirishima’s party anyway, right? ‘Cause your friend was dragging you there before you even knew I was going.”

“That’s true,” you hummed — staring off while the sun melted in your irises. “Or at the Journal meeting, since they assigned us to work on that article together.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we were just destined to be friends,” you turned to him with stupidly sweet smile, one that he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding at. “Seems as though we were gonna meet at some point, right?”

And maybe it was just the little asshole that still resided within him, but he couldn’t but respond with — “Don’t get all cheesy on me just ‘cause we watched When Harry Met Sally yesterday.”

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed true. Though their situation was different, it was also kind of the same — two people who seemed destined to be together, even if it took them through the more scenic path to get there. The only benefit was that the both of you didn’t have to lose touch with each other over the span of several years to get to this point — it was almost instant.

And now, even through the noise of the cheering crowd around the rink, Katsuki could only find himself staring at you in the stands as you waved at him, encouraging him to play his best with his large letterman sitting atop your shoulders. 

The effect you still had on him — the one you had on each other — was huge.

And while sometimes he would love nothing more than to stand on the ice and just think about every aspect that you've both shared with each other, as your boyfriend, he couldn’t exactly let you down — not when you advertised so proudly who you were rooting for. 

He’d win this game for you and kiss you as hard as possible as soon as he could make it up to the bleachers.

#keke.writes #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou drabbles #katsuki bakugo drabbles #katsuki x reader #mha bakugou #mha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #mha x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo fanfic

[smashboxgirl26]

Hello 🙋 I hope you a okay with requests, so lets get started. Can i mabye request some headcanons with shoto, bakubae, izu and kiri? With an reader (fem) who is really insecure about her cubby thighs. also i read your fanfic about bakugou (strawberry jam) and i was like; how tf can someone write such an piece of art!? I love this ff and it got an earned place in my "Favorite ff with bakugou" collection.

Feel free to ignore this request if you feel uncomfortable with writing such a topic!

Have a lovely day/night and stay healthy!

-tiniwini

contains: fluff, comfort masterlist a/n: speaking as a person who has kinda chubby thighs themself, i could relate to this sm. but thank you so much for the complement! ur so sweet!! (๑•́ ω •̀๑) apologies for this taking so long btw, i've been trying to get back in my regular writing schedule lol

— bakugou.

It all started with the both of you sitting on the couch, your legs laying in Katsuki’s lap as he absent-mindedly stroked them — a regular occurrence for the both of you on the occasional nights you had free. 

“I should work out more,” you mumbled to yourself, staring at your legs in his lap. You weren’t happy with the way they looked in comparison to Katsuki’s strong, thick legs.

“What?” his head turned over without missing a beat.

“Nothing,” you shook your head back, gesturing back towards the movie on the TV.

“I heard you say something though,” he grumbled back.

“It was nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he stared you down. 

You only rolled your eyes, “I was just saying that I should work out more, I don’t like my chubby thighs.”

Katsuki looked appalled. “What d’you mean?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “I’d rather them be toned or something–”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of,” he scoffed. “What’s there not to like about ‘em? They help you walk and get around places. What else d’you want?”

“Yeah, but–”

“But nothing,” he stopped you quickly. “They’re perfect the way they are.”

“But Katsuki–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he glared at you before turning back to the TV. “You don’t need any of that stupid shit fuckin’ with your head. You're beautiful. You don’t need to change anything, you dumbass.”

(And if you ever try to say anything like that ever again, just know you’re getting a lecture.)

— kirishima.

“Babe, show me the dress!” Kirishima called from outside the bathroom. “I wanna see how it fits you.”

You’d taken a suspiciously long time while putting it on, and Kirishima was just dying to know what it looked like. He knew when he saw it in the store window that it was perfect for you — he just had to buy it.

“...I’m not really sure if I like it,” you called out from the other side, and his face instantly dropped. Did it fit weird?

“Can I still see?” he asked, holding his breath when the bathroom door clicked open to reveal you.

You looked beautiful in it, the color matching your skin tone just as he thought it would, and the fabric outlining the shape of your body in the most flattering way possible. He could barely speak as he stared at you, but that was until you broke him out of his trance.

“Thanks for the dress,” you looked to the side. “But, I don’t really like the way it looks on me.”

“Why?” he circled around you, trying to see if there was anything wrong with it. “Is it uncomfortable? We can get a different size.”

“I just, don’t really like the way it makes my thighs look,” you shrugged. “I look fat.”

“What are you talking about?” he stared, confused. “You look great — amazing, actually.”

“Yeah, but I probably don’t look like the mannequin you bought it off of,” you walked towards the full-length mirror in your bedroom, a frown settling over your expression. 

“Baby, you look beautiful,” Kirishima walked behind you, his hands settling over your waist as his head rested on your shoulder. “You shouldn’t listen to the people who tell you otherwise, they’re probably just jealous.”

“...You mean it?”

“Of course baby,” he kissed your temple, pulling you closer to his chest while staring at the both of you in the mirror. “Everyone is jealous of you, and the fact that I’m the only one who gets to have you all to myself,” he smirks, pulling a smile to your lips as you look at the both of you standing in the mirror.

“Thank you,” you allowed a small smile to creep up.

— todoroki.

“Could you take the picture with only the top half?”

Shoto blinked, staring back down at the picture after you handed him your phone back to take another picture. 

He didn’t see anything wrong with the first one, and he couldn’t find himself fathoming why you didn’t want to have the bottom half of your body in the picture — the ground wasn’t even dirty and your shoes looked brand new. 

“Um, fine,” he replied, confused, but he still stepped back and took another picture of you like you’d asked.

A small smile peeked up on your lips when he handed you the phone back to check out the picture, and he became even more confused when you muttered “that’s better” under your breath before tucking the phone back in your pocket.

“Shall we continue?” you stared up at him, your hand outstretched to continue your walk in the park.

“Sure,” he nodded, taking your hand. But in his head, he was still curious as to why you didn’t want him to include your bottom half in your picture. The skirt you were wearing was cute, why did you want it cut out?

You noticed how quiet he was for a couple minutes, no longer pointing out the birds and trees he knew as he walked, his brow almost furrowed in thought. 

“What’re you thinking about?” you broke the silence, watching his head turn toward you almost instantly. 

“Nothing.”

“I know you’re lost in thought,” you pointed towards the furrow between his brows. “You always look like that.”

“I’m just wondering, why didn’t you want your bottom half in the picture?” he stared at you, watching as you quickly turned your head to face the other direction. 

“I uh, I don’t want to show off my thighs,” you sounded embarrassed. “They look chubby in this skirt.”

“What are you talking about?” he pressed. “You look beautiful.”

“Yeah, but… I dunno, I feel like I look chubby.”

“You don’t,” Shouto stopped, keeping you from continuing forward. “I don’t know where you got that idea from,” he shook his head, “but you look amazing. You always look amazing. You shouldn't worry about something no one even notices.”

“Thanks Sho,” your smile cracks up again, but this time it’s more genuine than when you looked at the picture of yourself.

“Of course,” he smiles back.

— midoriya.

“Why aren’t you coming in water?” Izuku stared at you sitting under the shade of the umbrella with your book in hand.

It was one of the few days that Izuku had off during the summer, which meant that it would be spent at the beach near his mother’s house since it was the cleanest and usually quietest place the both of you could spend time together. 

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, adjusting your sundress so that it went over your knees. “I wanna catch up on my reading so I’m not behind in my book club.”

“Yeah, but it’s hot, and I wanna spend time with you.” he frowned. “And I can’t do that if you’re sitting here while I’m swimming alone.”

“Then come sit here,” you patted the spot on the towel next to you.

“Why’re you even wearing a swimsuit if you don’t want to come in the water?” he huffed, settling himself in the sand beside you. 

The little pouty look he was wearing almost made you upset. You knew he was busy most of the time, and because this was one of his only off days he wanted to spend it with you.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, closing the book and setting it to the side. “I just, don’t like the way my swimsuit looks on me right now.”

“What do you mean? You look gorgeous. You always look gorgeous,” his frown deepened. 

“But I don’t like that it leaves my thighs super exposed,” you trailed off, staring at the sand beneath you. “It draws so much attention to them, and it makes me feel… embarrassed.”

“Baby,” he cupped your face in his hands without a moment’s hesitation. “There’s no need to feel embarrassed. In fact,” he chuckled, “I don’t even know what you’re embarrassed about! You look beautiful — people are probably jealous that they don’t look like you.”

He leaned forward to plant a small kiss on your forehead before pulling away. “You shouldn’t worry about what other people think,” he smiled, watching a smile crack on your face.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ll come in the water with you.” 

#keke.writes #keke.asks #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou headcanons #bakugo headcanons #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima headcanon #eijirou kirishima headcanons #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x you #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #bnha x reader

[smashboxgirl26]

in another life — i kept you close to my heart.

shoto x fem! reader / college au for @zayna6677 for the 900 followers event!! hope u enjoy it bestie!

“Shoto, can you please sit still?” you hissed at him from behind your sketchbook and pencils — and he looked up from his phone to see the grumbling expression you were holding. 

“I’m not doing anything,” was all he answered with. He didn’t want you to be angry with him, especially not when he had no idea what you were angry with him about.

“I was drawing you,” you huffed in his direction. “And you just changed positions.”

The library around you both was quiet, unbothered. You’d both thought it’d be a good place to study for the afternoon, as well as take a deserved break from the heat of the upcoming summer.

“Oh,” he blinked. He wanted to look over and take a peek at your sketchbook instantly — but he knew that you’d be angered further if he shifted further away from what you wanted him to look like. 

Instead, he let his right foot cross over his leg as he’d been sitting about twenty seconds ago — only this time not looking back at the stupid videos his friends had been distracting him with on his phone — focused on the sound of your pencils against the sketchpad. You drew for about another forty seconds before you spoke again.

“Sorry,” your voice eased, perhaps the slightest wince in your tone after realizing you were being rude. “I just have this stupid project and I just want to finish it so I don’t have to worry about it later.”

“Don’t apologize.” Shoto hummed, a small smile creeping up his lips while he pretended to look at his phone — “It’s also my fault for forgetting about helping you with your o-chem.”

“Yeah.” You're hum churning into a chuckle, “You’re gonna pay for that later.”

“Ah, no Starbucks then?” He pretended to sound sad, but unable to withhold the smile in his voice.

“Shut up,” you chastised. “I know you love your frappuccinos — but I think you’ll do fine without one for a day. In fact, I think you’ll do better without all the sugar and caffeine.”

“How would I ever function then?” he peeked up at you through his bangs: flashing a small, cheeky smile. “I must live the true college experience somehow, mustn't I?”

“You couldn’t be further from the true college experience if it was shoved up your ass.”

“Now that was rude.” He raised a thin eyebrow — watching a giggle erupt from you as you tried to finish your sketch. 

It took a couple more minutes, but you announced you were done quickly with a little smile before shoving your sketchbook across the table towards him. He could feel the anticipation radiate from where you were sitting just as his fingers barely came into contact with the white sketch paper — even further as he picked it up and peeked his head to see what’d you done.

You’d captured him perfectly — from the cut of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the way his hair was currently flopped over his forehead. There a couple different angles of him sketched out — and he thumbed each, running his fingers over the way you’d painted the scar around his eye softly.

“So…” you broke him out of his stare, “Do you like them?”

“Yeah,” he smiled — a tinge of pink sprouting over his skin. “I really like them.” 

#keke.writes #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #mha

[smashboxgirl26]

nice

yandere! katsuki bakugou x fem! (but i never actually state pronouns) reader summary: you thought he was nice contains: violence (canon-typical and not), kinda angst but we don't unpack it, broken bones word count: 1.9k masterlist author's note: was this for halloween? idk

You thought he was nice — the hero you worked under as a sidekick: Dynamight. 

Your first interactions always seemed to be cut short, a gruff command that you followed without hesitating. It wasn’t a secret that he was intimidating, and as his employee you took the brunt of it — despite only being two years younger than he was.

But eventually, the strangeness ended and evolved into small conversations about cases and plans over the weekend during the moments you would have in the agency. Once in a while, he would stop by with a cup of coffee when he noticed the both of you were still working on paperwork late into the night, or talk about his ever elusive personal life when you were both on patrol.

The relationship only seemed to grow as you dragged yourself up the ranks, eventually becoming a head sidekick — and expecting to remain there — until Dynamight offered you partnership in the agency.

Over time you were invited into his group of friends, seeing him more than once every day, growing closer and closer together as the months dragged on; even getting the chance to call him by his real name — at least when the both of you were alone together. 

It was inevitable really, when you found yourself falling for him — how could you not with the amount of time the both of you spent together, both in work and out.

What was strange though, was that it seemed like he confessed to you as soon as you’d figured out your feelings for him; it’d felt as if only hours had passed after you’d accepted your little crush, and yet it felt like a dream at the same time. He was one of the strongest heroes in the country, and you were someone who just worked under him.

Sure, it moved faster than your previous relationships — “I love you’s” exchanged only three months after the relationship started, him offering for you to move into his apartment two months later — but it was never strained. 

It seemed almost natural, moving at that pace. It wasn’t as sweet and slow as you were used to, but it worked well for the both of you; you guessed that your feelings for each other had been there from the beginning, and now that it'd finally happened the both of you were itching to get those soft moments together. Perhaps it was the previous years of acquaintanceship that allowed it, maybe it would’ve felt strange if it moved any slower.

It changed slightly after the accident, the genuity of Katsuki’s niceness.

You tried to justify it out of the trauma he’d experienced — something you’d forced out of him one late night at the hospital, his fingers trailing over the thin blanket. It was mentally scarring to see a person you cared deeply about laying on the side of the road you told yourself, to see them motionless and unconscious; it was even worse with the life he’d experienced as a simple teenager with dreams of becoming a hero. He’d told you through tears about how he couldn’t even hear the wail of the ambulances, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he couldn’t even breathe — not until the paramedics had put him to sleep in an effort to keep him from freaking out.

His voice cracked each time he spoke that night, and you cradled him in your arms in the hospital bed until the sun came out  the next morning, despite his persistence that you were too weak and needed rest. 

“I’ll always protect you,” he whispered the next morning, under bleary eyes and blocks of sun shining in through the blinds, before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Always.”

And his actions kept true to his promise, not letting you lift a finger as you recovered. 

He cooked everyday — though it was mostly in response to your statement about needing some takeout after getting out of the hospital; there were never dishes in the sink, a cup of water was always tentatively placed on a coaster near your bedside every morning — and nights were spent with the both of you laying on the couch, your head resting over his chest as he traced small circles onto your arm.

But the sweetness began to fall, slowly dripping out of the pot of honey and suffocating you under its weight. 

“Sit down,” he barked once, noticing you were standing on your crutches in the middle of the living room to go to the bedroom.

“Katsuki I–”

“Didn’t you fuckin’ hear me? Sit down.”

As you got better, it only got worse. 

“Where’re you goin’?” he asked when noticed the crossbody he’d bought you for your last birthday slung over your shoulder. Your crutches were gone by that point, leaving you only with a boot.

“I’m grabbing some paperwork from the office,” you paid him no mind. “I have to help my sidekick with this case, she asked if I could read over the details and help her decide what to do.”

At the time, you didn’t even register how alarming it was as he jumped up from the couch under a couple seconds to block the door.

“Whaddya mean you're helping with a case?”

He stood there, arms outstretched to keep you from pushing past him — the look on his face twisted in shock, but even worse, anger. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged, holding it off. “Well, I’m gonna have to go back to work at some point, right? I was gonna start next week actually. I mean, even if I have the boot I could just do pape-”

“No.” His eyebrows furrowed. 

“No?” You stared at him, shocked.

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I said ‘no’, got that? You’re not going back to work.”

“But–”

“No fucking buts.” he stepped forward, eyes glaring as he towered over your shorter frame. “I said ‘no’ once, I’m not repeating myself.”

“Katsuki–”

You almost flinched as his hands came to rest on your shoulders, but the grip was heavy and sorrowful.

“...Please,” he almost whispered, looking up through the hair that had fallen in his eyes. “Just… wait. At least ‘till you’re fully healed. I…don’t want you getting hurt again.”

The pained look from the hospital was back, reminiscent of the tears that he’d choked out that night spent in your arms. 

How could you possibly refuse him when he was staring at you like that? Like you were his world, about to be destroyed in a matter of seconds?

“Of course baby.” You pulled him into your arms instead.

But now, today, your boot was finally off — and after weeks of boredom you wanted to return.

“I’m so glad it’s finally off,” you were laid out on the couch, feet laying over Katsuki’s lap as some movie neither of you were paying attention to played in the background.

You pointed and flexed your foot for emphasis, stifling a giggle at the lecture you knew he was biting back about you acting recklessly. He was successful though, leaving his response to rolling his eyes as his fingers began pushing into your feet in a makeshift massage.

It remained silent for a few seconds, as if the both of you knew the conversation that was about to take place. Katsuki sat as alert as ever, even as he pretended he was watching the mind numbing movie with glazed over eyes while unconsciously massaging your feet. But you knew better. Katsuki couldn’t sit still if he was thinking about something, which explained why he’d taken to pressing the pressure points in your toes.

“....Oh, um, I’ll start coming to the agency again next week,” you spoke tentatively, almost whispering the words under your breath — as if it was a secret that wasn’t supposed to be uttered.

Even though he was trying to hide it, you instantly noticed the way his shoulders tensed up and the way he paused in his movement though he continued just two seconds afterwards. 

“I’ll stay on desk duty for a little bit,–” you continued, trying to fan away the flames before they grew. “–I mean, I just need to be there to support my sidekicks since it’s been a long time.”

It remained silent, and that was what scared you the most.

He still didn’t turn to face you; he was still pretending like he hadn’t heard what you’d said as his blunt fingernails began pressing harder into the skin of your ankle.

“...Can you say something, please?” you finally asked through the never ending absence he left between you.

“Why?”

The question took you aback, leaving you blinking like you’d just been squirted in the face with water. 

“What?”

“Why do you want to leave?” he finally turned to face you — expression unreadable. 

“I–”

“Why are you trying so desperately to leave, huh?” he narrowed his eyes at you, nails pressing crescent moons into the surface of your skin. 

“Katsuki–”

“Can’t you see that I’m just trying to protect you? Don’t you understand that everything I’m doing is for you?” 

His scowl had deepened significantly, his lips curling as he pressed his fingers into the bone of your ankle — earning a small squeak as he pushed into the same bone that’d just been healed.

“Katsuki you’re hurting me–”

“No, you’re hurting me!” He was basically shouting. “Have you ever thought about how I’ve felt about all of this? I almost lost you, and you’re gonna fuckin’ waltz back in and pretend like nothing happened?”

Both of his hands were wrapped around your foot now, one at the base of your ankle and the other at the palm, each beginning to twist your foot in different directions as pain shot up your leg. You were stuck in place—half out of shock, and the other half in fear. 

“Katsuki stop!” you finally tried to wriggle and kick your way out of his hold as stray tears made their way down your cheeks and the pain became unbearable, though your efforts proved unfruitful as he pushed himself onto his knees and applied more pressure.. “Why are you– Please–”

“Maybe this’ll fuckin’ teach you,” he only growled in response, a mean sneer coming up to rest on his lips. “Maybe you’ll finally fuckin’ understand the lengths I’m willing to go to to protect you.”

Just as he looked like he was about to apply enough pressure to snap your ankle to the point of no return, you caught a moment of weakness as he stared at your teared face, getting the chance to kick your foot into the side of his face at an attempt to escape—but his entire body weight was slammed onto you as soon as you hit the floor. His hands were back on your ankle, and you kicked and screamed and tried to roll him off.

But it was too late.

With the devastating sound of bones snapping, your scream, and Bakugou trying to calm down your so-called “hysterics”, it was done.

“There,” he said—like he’d just done something normal, like twisting your ankle to the point of breaking was something that just had to be done everyday. 

“Why?” was all you managed to choke out from under him. 

Why had he done something like this? Where had the Katsuki you’d known and loved for years gone? 

It felt like everything you’d both ever been through had passed in an instant—lost to the unknown man who was now standing before you like he’d just done something good. You couldn’t help but let out a small sob as he smiled.

“For you.” 

He was giving you the same fucking look as the one he’d give when he brought home flowers, or cooked you dinner, or stared at you on patrol, or kissed you on the couch. 

A nice look.

#keke.writes #tw yandere #tw broken bones #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #yandere katsuki #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #mha x reader #yandere mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #yandere bnha x reader

[smashboxgirl26]

[2:15]

katsuki x gn! reader contains: angst, reverse comfort

It’s about two in the morning when Katsuki walks into your shared apartment: tired, wounded, and bruised. 

You’re startled by the sound of the door opening, after just wandering out of the living room to grab some water before heading to bed — and you almost drop the glass entirely when you’re able to get a glance at his appearance when he rounds the corner, forcing yourself to place it on the counter as steadily as possible before you can approach him.

He’s still in costume, though scuffed and torn and singed, as if he’d been dragged to the end of the earth and back. He’s only not wearing his gauntlets and mask, you notice, but the black face paint he wears is smeared across his skin: running down his cheeks as if he was trying to cover the bruises you can see forming on his cheek from the inflammation. 

His eyes aren’t looking at you, they’re glazed and stare straight ahead. Dejected. Upset. Exhausted. 

It’s only when you say his name that they snap to you, as if he suddenly remembered that you were there, but he doesn’t say a word. 

“Katsuki?”

He swallows.

“What—What happened?”

You’re trying to speak in your gentlest voice, trying to ground him so he doesn’t fall over the edge of the cliff he’s teetering on. He looks as if his mind is running a mile-a-minute, his jaw hardened and blood dribbling out of his nose, which he quickly wipes away with the back of his hand before you can stop him — until his eyes finally close in exhaustion and his eyebrows pinch together.

“Needed to see you,” is all he mumbles, but his eyes are glancing over your face as soon as they open.

You notice the way they flicker from one side of your face to the other, could point it out actually, by how obviously worried he is from his pinched eyebrows even though he’s the one standing in your kitchen battered and bruised and wounded. 

He doesn’t say anything as his arms wrap around your shoulders, and you’re suddenly flush against his chest, breathless, as his hands press you further into him — as if he’s afraid to let you go, that you’d disappear if his hands left you.

It takes you a moment to respond, out of shock you think — leaning your head against his chest with your arms wrapped back around him, trying to give him a semblance of your existence as you rub slow, small circles into his back. When his head finally drops to your shoulder in exhaustion, you don’t say anything as your fingers come up to rake through his scalp, ignoring the way your shoulder’s become wet from his silent tears. 

#keke.writes #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugou angst #bakugo angst #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst #bakugou katsuki x reader

[smashboxgirl26]

WAIT OKAY LISTEN LISTEN

lawyer! bakugou who's just transferred to the same law firm you've been working in for years — and though he's new and he just moved, you notice him because he's always stealing cases from under your nose

he's always two steps ahead of you, he keeps getting in good with the senior partners, and he likes to rub it in your face; and you absolutely despise him

he likes to act all cheeky and smart when you confront him in an empty conference room — "don't know whatch'yer talkin' about. i got 'em all on my own."

"i know what game you're playing," you poke a finger into his chest. "i'm not stupid. i saw you were out to dinner with the partner even though i'm running point on the case."

"listen," he says, leaning in — and you almost let the seriousness in your face fall from how close he is to you, how strong his cologne is as it overtakes your senses. "it just happened to be that way. it's not my fault he keeps appointin' me, princess."

"don't call me that."

"why? your pink suit says otherwise."

#AS;FDKS;KDFSA;DLFKLSAFK #i may or may not have found my newest obsession bye #OKAY BUT KATSUKI IN A SUITTTT :33 #he'd look so good and with his hair slicked back in a suit that just barely fits his muscles #ok sorry i needed to let this out before i exploded bye #keke.writes #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader

[smashboxgirl26]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd write headcanons of a Kirishima x sleep deprived reader?

contains: fluff + comfort + cuddless! a/n: okkk nonnie so i wasn't sure if you meant like a reader who had insomnia or something so i wrote it a little bit more comforting??? yeah, sorry ig if that isn't what you really wanted

so, first off, even if kirishima is kinda irresponsible, he's still the guy who goes to bed at relatively reasonable times so he can get up and go through his routine (bc lets face it, he's a morning person no doubt)

now if his s/o is someone who just has trouble sleeping, you know that he will constantly be trying to help them out

"hey babe, i got this new tea for you. it's supposed to be really good at helping people relax" or "let's come cuddle before we go to bed, i know it helps you fall asleep easier"

it's just little things that he knows could make a difference

but if his s/o has serious insomnia, i could see him sacrificing his own sleep schedule (to a certain extent of course, because heroes still need their sleep) to try and help them either get to the point where they get sleepy or just keep company with them before he passes out

he always has melatonin gummies stocked when you sleep over at his apartment, knowing that it's one of the only things that can help even if you don't wanna rely on them

and also, playing video games or watching movies together on the nights he knows that he won't have work the next morning <3

since he's always the first one to wake up, he likes watching you sleep in the mornings — you just look peaceful and sweet and he can't help it

he generally tries not to wake you as he starts going through his morning routine, especially if he knows you stayed up late the night before

always makes sure to leave you a kiss and note on the counter if you're not up by the time he's left — especially with work

he likes to go and run to a nearby coffeeshop on the days he has off, just so that when you wake up it can be spent together

and the days that you don't sleep in the same bed, he always leaves a good morning text for you to have when you wake up :3

#yeah i genuinely don't know how to write headcannons so im just winging it whoops #hopefully this is what you wanted anonnie! #or something similar maybe :// #keke.writes #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima headcannons #kirishima headcannon #kirishima eijiro imagine #eijirou kirishima fluff #eijirou x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima imagine #mha headcannons #bnha headcannons #kirishima x reader

[smashboxgirl26]

i just got a designer handbag so i’m thinking about katsuki coming home one day with a shopping bag in his hands - just handing it to you casually while your sitting on the couch and being like “here s’for you.”

like there’s no special event or anything, it’s just bc he saw it in a window on patrol and thought it’d look cute with a dress you have.

(please note he looks so proud when you wear it out with him.)

#random ik #im literally sitting in a department store bored #keke.writes #bakugou x reader #bakugo drabble

[smashboxgirl26]

in another life — i admired you from afar.

regency au for @deartouya for the 900 follower event!! i hope you like it venus! (i think it's my favorite one actually hehe i wanted to add so much more)

You clearly remembered the day of the Todoroki's arrival due to the sweltering heat present — the air humid and the lazy buzzing of cicadas over the hilltops — and how, despite the conditions, your mother insisted on you wearing a heavy, beaded, long sleeved gown while your sisters were allowed to remain in their cheaper printed cotton ones.

("You must capture his attention as the only real lady present," she scolded. "Real ladies are not tortured by the heat.")

You found yourself already winded when your carriage stopped in front of their estate as your two sisters attempted to bustle their way out of the carriage first, while you only sat fanning yourself to try and keep the sweat from pouring into your eyes.

"Behave," your mother directed a glare towards your sisters. "It was kind enough of Mrs. Todoroki to invite us for tea based only on our acquaintance with her sister. Do not make her regret that decision."

They nodded, of course, before attempting to race each other to get inside first while your mother pursed her lips. You followed behind her, taking in their beautifully trimmed rose bushes and gardens: though they didn't hold a candle to the interior of their house — freshly painted golden archways and french, hand painted floral wallpaper. Every piece seemed so specifically chosen to emmersify their space, from the paintings that were hung on the walls to the couple of statues and busts lining the hallway.

"Mrs. Todoroki," your mother bowed as you'd all entered the drawing room.

"Mrs. L/N," she smiled warmly. Mrs. Todoroki was beautiful — her intricately embroidered dress resting perfectly over her shape and silver hair styled to rest just over her shoulders. She appeared to have been reading on her lounge chair.

Another pair of eyes caught your attention, a smoldering blue from the corner of the room at a desk — held by a frowning man who held a glare in your direction.

"Allow me to introduce you all to my son," she continued, gesturing toward him. "Touya, come here."

("You must be dying in that." His eyes pointed towards your velvet dress — ignoring his mother's silent plea for formality.

"I'm doing just all right, thank you."

"I can tell you're lying by the sweat lining your forehead.")

#in another life... #venus <3 #keke.writes #dabi #dabi x reader