sofilsword

[sofilsword]

first time anal with bakugo would include…

he acts cocky about it, but dies inside.

the second you say you want to try it, his brain short circuits. “y-yeah? fuck yeah, i’ll give it to you. you sure you want it, though?”

externally: smug smirk, arms crossed.

internally: oh god she trusts me that much???

he’s sweating. he’s respectful. he’s bricked up immediately.

“you don’t gotta do this just ‘cause i want it. you ask, i’ll fuckin’ die tryin’ to make it good for you.”

prep king behavior.

he does so much research. watches videos. reads articles. orders lube that costs more than his boots.

when the night comes, he’s so careful. “tell me if anything doesn’t feel good. i’ll stop. i mean it.”

lube. so much lube.

he warms it in his hands. spreads it on you slow. rubs lazy circles on your lower back to keep you calm. “gotta make it easy for you, baby. want it to feel good.”

he starts with fingers. one at first. then two. gentle kisses on your shoulder the whole time. “you’re doing so good for me. relax, breathe, i got you.”

when he finally pushes in he moans, loud.

“f-fuck, baby… you’re tight… so fuckin’ tight.”

his hands grip your waist, shaking. he’s trying so hard not to move too fast.

“you good? you sure?” eyes glued to your face, forehead pressed to your back or shoulder, panting.

he doesn’t slam, or pound. just deep, slow thrusts at first.

“i can’t… i can’t go harder ‘til you tell me. you feel too fuckin’ good.”

the filthiest praise leaves his mouth.

“fuckin’ perfect ass.”

“you were made to take me, huh?”

“so good for me, lettin’ me in like this…”

he kisses your neck, your shoulders, whispers “so proud of you, baby. so fuckin’ proud.”

you cry a little? moan too high? he kisses it away.

when you finally start grinding back on him? his control snaps. “you want it harder now? that what you’re askin’ for?”

he doesn’t last.

the combo of your tightness, your moans, your trust in him, he busts like a teenage virgin the first time. “shit, baby, i’m—i’m gonna—fuck!”

he finishes inside. groaning deep, biting your shoulder, whispering, “goddamn… never felt anything like that.”

he stays inside for a moment, hands all over your back, stroking, soothing. he kisses your shoulder blade. “you’re okay? i didn’t hurt you, right?”

aftercare god.

warm towel. water. literally carries you to the bathroom. massages your thighs and ass gently. “gotta take care of my girl. you did so fuckin’ good.”

he doesn’t stop praising you. “you trusted me with that. shit, i’ll never forget it.”

and later? when you’re lying on his chest, half-asleep? he mutters, real quiet, “let me do it again sometime. not ‘cause i want it. ‘cause i love how close it made us feel.”

[sofilsword]

welcome back to frat boy, bf! katsuki, but you're taking a nap and you miss his calls for the first time...

k<3 :

u home yet??

2 missed calls – the loml<333

k<3 :

yo. you said you were leavin class 20 mins ago.

stopped somewhere?

4 missed calls – the loml <333

k<3 :

sweet girl. answer me

not fuckin playin

7 missed calls – the loml<333

k<3 :

i swear to fuck if ur phone died again im gonna duct tape a charger to ur bag

10 missed calls – the loml<333

k<3 :

come on

please

just text me

by the time the clock ticks past 10 minutes, katsuki’s spiraling.

he’s already speed-walked home from campus—snarled at kirishima when he offered to tag along, ignored denki yelling something about pizza—and practically slammed the front door open.

he checks every room with increasing panic.

kitchen? empty. bathroom? lights off. your shoes? by the door. your bag? slung carelessly on the couch.

his heart’s in his throat now. he storms to the bedroom and—there you are.

sprawled out across the bed in your favorite hoodie (his, of course), wrapped in a nest of blankets like some cozy little shit, hair a mess, cheek smushed into the pillow. dead to the world.

katsuki just stops in the doorway. halfway between furious and relieved. he exhales so hard it sounds like a curse, raking a hand through his hair. “fuckin’ hell, woman.”

he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, the tiny puff of breath from your lips, the faint twitch of your fingers as you shift slightly, still completely out of it.

he pads over slowly and crouches beside the bed, bracing himself on the edge of the mattress. just watching you sleep like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen and the most infuriating thing he’s ever dealt with.

you don’t even stir.

“called you ten fuckin’ times,” he whispers, brushing your hair away from your face gently, thumb lingering at your temple. “had my heart about to claw outta my chest.”

he glares down at your peaceful expression. “you couldn’t send one goddamn text?”

you snore a little.

he huffs out a soft, involuntary laugh and leans forward to kiss your forehead, lingering there for a moment.

“stupid girl,” he murmurs, voice rough now—not angry, just overflowing with that messy blend of worry and love and the kind of fear he doesn’t even want to name.

“you scared the shit outta me,” he says, voice barely audible now.

he kicks off his shoes, strips down to his hoodie, and climbs into bed beside you, dragging you into his chest like he needs to feel your heartbeat under his palm.

and maybe he does.

he buries his face in your neck, breathes you in, and closes his eyes—like maybe if he holds you tight enough, you’ll never slip away without him noticing again.

“you ever ignore my calls again, i’m gonna kill you… then bring you back just to yell at you.”

it takes a minute for your senses to catch up. the first thing you register is warmth—a lot of it. the solid wall of heat behind you, the weight of an arm slung heavy around your waist, a hand gripping your thigh like it belongs there.

you blink awake slowly, the sunlight slicing through the curtains, warm and golden against your cheek. your mouth is dry. your head is foggy. your entire body feels like it sank into the mattress and refused to surface again.

you open your eyes fully, only to find katsuki awake. already looking at you. already scowling.

he’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, messy blonde hair sticking up in every direction. his eyes are sharp—wide-awake, unblinking, trained directly on your face.

“you almost died.”

you blink. “what?”

“you almost died,” he repeats flatly, voice low and grumpy. “that’s the only excuse i’ll accept.”

you shift slightly, throat dry. “what are you—?”

“my calls,” he snaps, cutting you off. “my texts. ten fuckin’ calls, sweets. not a single goddamn word.”

you glance over at your nightstand. your phone is there. fully charged. blinking with a whole list of missed notifications.

“oh my god.”

your brain stutters through memories. class had wiped you out. you’d come home, tossed your stuff down, meant to take a quick nap—and clearly crashed harder than you thought. hard enough to sleep through ten calls and a boyfriend having a full panic spiral.

you roll onto your back, face him, voice small. “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t answer. you could’ve passed out, gotten jumped, gotten hit by a fuckin’ car for all i knew.”

your stomach turns with guilt. “i’m sorry…”

he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, frustration fading into something a little softer. “i came home ready to break the door down. thought i’d find you hurt or... i dunno... fuck.”

his voice breaks a little on that last word.

your chest aches. you sit up slowly, sliding into his lap and cupping his face with both hands. he doesn’t resist. just leans into you, his arms wrapping tight around your waist like he needs you right there, like it’s the most natural place for them to be.

“i just passed out,” you whisper. “like… sleep coma status.”

“you didn’t even flinch,” he mutters. “thought i was gonna have to check your pulse.”

you snort softly. “i was probably dreaming about you yelling at me.”

he squeezes your thigh, resting his forehead to your collarbone. “not funny. you’re not allowed to scare me like that again.”

you can feel his heart thudding against your chest—still fast, still a little shaken. you lean against him and whisper, voice quiet: “what happens if i do scare you again?”

he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. something soft settles in his expression. that sharp edge in his gaze dulls just a little—not gone, but mellowed, focused. it’s the look he only gives you, like you’re the only thing on the planet worth softening for.

he thinks for a second.

“first,” he says, tone completely serious. “i panic. obviously.”

you snort.

“then,” he continues, brushing a thumb along your jaw, “i break into your phone, make it so the ringtone screams your name at full volume. every time. forever.”

you giggle. “that’s horrifying.”

“i’m not done,” he deadpans. “next, i put a gps tracker in your backpack. and your keychain. and maybe your bra.”

you raise a brow. “my bra?”

“don’t question my methods, woman. i need intel.”

you laugh again, leaning fully into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. he goes quiet. arms wrap tighter around you, firm and warm.

“maybe... i’d hold you like this,” he says, low and sure. “and not let go for a long time.”

you close your eyes as his hand slides up your back, smoothing slow circles into your spine. the rest of the world fades out, tucked away beneath the weight of his embrace and the soft beat of his heart against your cheek.

“and,” he adds, voice barely a whisper now, “i’d make sure you never forget how much you matter to me.”

your throat tightens a little. you bury your face deeper in his neck, smile trembling.

“okay,” you breathe.

“yeah?” he murmurs, holding you a little closer.

“yeah. i promise not to scare you again."

there’s a beat of silence. then—

“good,” he mutters. “’cause i might start showing up to your classes and shit.”

you snort into his shoulder, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. “i promise i’ll keep my phone on ring from now on.”

“you better,” he grumbles, then pauses. “swear to god, i aged five years in seconds.”

you smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you’ll still be hot, even gray.”

he gives you a dry look. “tch. you’re lucky i love with you.”

you grin. “i know.”

his eyes narrow. “oh, do you now?”

and that’s when it happens—he pulls back just enough to stare at you, eyes narrowed, before reaching up and squishing your cheeks between both hands, mushing your lips into a pout.

“you have to say it back,” he barks, holding your face like a grumpy old man scolding a puppy, his thumbs digging into your squishy cheeks. “or i’ll keep doin’ this.”

you try to speak, but it just comes out as a muffled, “i lubb youuuu.”

he snorts, his grin slowly tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“i love you more, sweet girl,” he mutters, releasing your cheeks.

your lips are still puffed out from where he squished your cheeks, but he kisses them anyway—warm and slow and just a little too soft for someone who was grumbling about murder five minutes ago.

his palm stays on your jaw, thumb brushing lazily along your cheekbone, as if he’s still making sure you’re real. your cheeks are still tender from where he squished them, the warmth of his palm lingering.

you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, and you let yourself melt a little further into him.

wrapped up in warmth and safety and the ridiculous, overprotective heart of the boy who loves you more than he knows what to do with.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ this happened to me last week and i missed the opportunity to buy what i want from mcdonalds 💔 (the minecraft toys here are ASS) hope you guys enjoyed, also how do i make them fuck any suggestions 👉👈

[sofilsword]

TOTAL INSECURITY .

⌗ pairing: {established relationship} katsuki bakugou x jealous! reader

⌗ trigger warnings: jealousy, insecurity, self-doubt, emotional distress, anxiety, miscommunication, crying, negative self-talk.

⌗ anon request: hello! I was wondering if you could make a story where y/n is getting jealous over katsuki getting close to another girl classmate? like basically him and another girl in class 1-a start training and hangout a bit and reader starts getting a bit jealous and insecure, basically a comfort fic. i’d really appreciate it cause i’m kind of in a mood today 🥹

⌗ a/n: thx for requesting this!! uh, i decided to use a random Japanese generator name thingy because i didn’t want to use any of the actual mha girls. and yes, I am doing requests. I JUST CAN’T FIND PHOTOS.

the first time you noticed her, she was standing at the front of class 1-a with that nervous smile transfer students always wore. emiko tanaka—her quirk was something called "energy sync" that let her match and amplify others' abilities temporarily. aizawa had explained it in his usual monotone, but you'd been more focused on the way katsuki's eyes had lingered on her demonstration.

"interesting," he'd muttered, and something cold had settled in your stomach.

you'd been dating katsuki for six months now. six months of his rare soft smiles, of him walking you to class with his hand in yours, of quiet moments where his guard dropped completely. you thought you'd gotten past the worst of your insecurities, but watching emiko successfully sync with his explosions during their first paired training session brought them all rushing back.

"she's really good," kirishima commented, watching as emiko's borrowed explosions created a perfect crater in the training ground. "her control is insane."

"yeah," you managed, throat tight. "really good."

katsuki was grinning—actually grinning—as he helped emiko up from where she'd been knocked back by the recoil. when was the last time he'd smiled like that during training? when was the last time he'd looked at you like that? you tried to remember, but all you could focus on was the way his hands lingered on her arms as he steadied her, the way she looked up at him with those bright eyes full of admiration.

over the next few weeks, it became routine. emiko would pair with katsuki for combat training, their quirks complementing each other perfectly. she could handle his explosive power better than anyone else in class, and he seemed to thrive on having a partner who could keep up. you watched from the sidelines during training, paired with whoever was left, trying not to notice how natural they looked together.

you told yourself it was just training. professional. but then you started noticing the little things.

the way katsuki would wait for her after class, both of them heading to the gym for extra practice while you walked back to the dorms alone. how he'd explain techniques to her with unusual patience, his voice lacking its typical harsh edge. the inside jokes that developed between them—references to their training sessions that made her laugh and him smirk with satisfaction. how she'd save him a seat at lunch sometimes, or bring him notes from classes he'd missed.

you found yourself studying them during meals, watching how comfortable they'd become with each other. emiko would steal food from his plate without him threatening to explode her face off—something that had taken you months to achieve. she'd tease him about his study habits, and he'd actually laugh instead of shouting. worse, she understood his ambitions in a way that felt similar to you, nodding along when he talked about being the number one hero, asking questions that showed she actually listened.

"you're being ridiculous," you whispered to yourself one evening, watching through the gym windows as they worked through a complex combination attack. emiko was practicing syncing with his explosions while moving, and every time she succeeded, katsuki's face would light up with genuine pride. but when she stumbled and katsuki caught her, steadying her with hands on her waist, both of them laughing breathlessly from the exertion, you couldn't stop the tears that blurred your vision.

you turned away before either of them could see you, but not before you heard emiko say, "thanks, katsuki. you're an amazing teacher." the warmth in her voice made your chest ache.

the breaking point came during a weekend study session. you'd been looking forward to spending time with katsuki, had even picked up his favorite snacks from the convenience store. but he'd gotten a text from emiko about needing help with a hero law assignment.

"rain check?" he'd asked, already reaching for his jacket. "she's struggling with the case studies, and you know how brutal those are."

you'd nodded, forced a smile, told him it was fine. but as you watched him leave, something inside you cracked. he used to help you with hero law. he used to be the one you could count on for study sessions and quiet conversations about your dreams. you remembered sitting in his room for hours, him patiently explaining legal precedents while you struggled to understand the complex cases.

now he was rushing off to help someone else, and you were left wondering if you were being replaced. the snacks sat unopened on your desk, mocking you.

the next few days passed in a blur of forced normalcy. you smiled when katsuki kissed you good morning, laughed at his jokes, pretended not to notice when he and emiko would disappear for their training sessions. but the doubt was eating at you, whispering cruel things in the quiet moments.

she's stronger than you. more compatible with his quirk. she doesn't flinch when he shouts, doesn't need the gentle handling you sometimes require. she's everything you're not.

you started avoiding the gym, finding excuses to skip group training sessions. when katsuki asked why, you'd claim you were tired or had homework. the lies tasted bitter on your tongue, but you couldn't bear to watch them together anymore, couldn't stand seeing how effortlessly she fit into the space you'd thought was yours.

mina noticed first, cornering you after class one day. "hey, what's going on? you've been weird lately."

"nothing," you'd deflected, but she saw right through you.

"it's about bakugou and the new girl, isn't it?" she'd said gently, and your face must have given you away because she sighed. "oh, honey."

"it's stupid," you'd whispered, but mina shook her head.

"feelings aren't stupid. but you should talk to him instead of torturing yourself like this."

but how could you? how could you tell the person you loved that you were terrified of losing him? that every interaction he had with emiko felt like a knife in your chest?

you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice katsuki approaching until he dropped into the seat beside you at lunch.

"you're being weird," he said without preamble, red eyes studying your face. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you replied automatically, stabbing at your rice with more force than necessary. across the cafeteria, you could see emiko sitting with some of the other girls, occasionally glancing over at your table.

"bullshit." his voice was low, meant only for you. "you've been avoiding me for three days. did i do something?"

the concern in his tone almost broke you. this was katsuki—your katsuki—who noticed when you were upset, who cared enough to ask. but then you saw emiko approaching from across the cafeteria, and the doubt came rushing back.

"i'm fine," you insisted, standing abruptly. "i just... i need some air."

you felt his eyes on you as you left, but you didn't turn back. you also didn't see the confused look he exchanged with emiko when she asked if you were okay.

that evening, you were sitting on your bed, staring at your homework without really seeing it, when someone knocked on your door. you knew that knock—sharp, impatient, but not aggressive. katsuki.

"we need to talk," he said when you opened the door, and his expression was serious enough that you stepped aside to let him in.

he sat on your desk chair, turning it to face you as you perched on the edge of your bed. for a moment, neither of you spoke. you could hear the sounds of your classmates in the hallway, muffled conversations and laughter that felt worlds away from the tension in your room.

"are you breaking up with me?"

the question hit you like a physical blow. "what? no! why would you—"

"because you've been acting like you can't stand to be around me," he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. "and i can't figure out what i did wrong."

the raw vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache. this was what your insecurity had done—made the person you loved most think he was losing you.

"you didn't do anything wrong," you said quietly. "i just... i've been stupid."

"about what?"

you took a shaky breath, fingers twisting in your lap. "about you and emiko."

katsuki's eyebrows shot up. "me and—what the hell are you talking about?"

"you've been spending so much time with her," you continued, the words tumbling out now that you'd started. "training together, studying together, and she's so good with your quirk, and you smile at her in ways you haven't smiled at me in weeks, and i just—" your voice cracked. "i started thinking maybe you realized you'd be better off with someone who could actually keep up with you."

the silence that followed was deafening. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, couldn't bear to see confirmation of your fears in his expression.

then you felt the bed dip as he sat beside you, his hand covering yours.

"look at me," he said softly, and when you reluctantly met his eyes, they were intense but gentle. "you really think i'd rather be with her?"

"i don't know," you whispered. "maybe? she's stronger than me, her quirk works better with yours—"

"stop." his hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn't realized were falling. "just stop."

he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. "you wanna know why i've been training with her so much? because aizawa paired us up for the upcoming exercise, and i didn't want to look like an idiot in front of the whole class. you wanna know why i help her with homework? because she asked, and i'm not a complete asshole, despite what everyone thinks."

his thumbs traced across your cheekbones. "but you wanna know what i think about when i'm with her? i think about how she's not you. how her laugh doesn't make my chest feel warm, how she doesn't know that i like my coffee with too much sugar, how she's never seen me have a nightmare and stayed up all night to make sure i was okay."

"katsuki—"

"i'm not done." his voice was firmer now, more like the katsuki you knew. "she's a good training partner. hell, she's a good person. but she's not the person i want to come home to. she's not the person i think about when i'm falling asleep, or the person i want to tell when something good happens."

he pulled back slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes. "she's not you, and she never could be. you think i care about quirk compatibility? about who's stronger? i fell in love with you because you're you—because you see good in people, because you believe in me even when i don't believe in myself, because you make me want to be better than i am."

"but you seem so happy when you're with her," you protested weakly.

"i'm happy when i'm getting stronger. when i'm working toward being the best hero i can be. but you know what makes me happiest?" he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "coming back to you afterward. telling you about my day, hearing about yours, just... being with you."

the last of your defenses crumbled. "i'm sorry," you breathed. "i'm so sorry, i just—"

"got scared," he finished, pulling you into his arms. "i get it. but next time you're feeling like this, talk to me, okay? don't just disappear on me. i can't fix a problem if i don't know it exists."

you nodded against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. "i love you," you murmured.

"love you too," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "more than you know."

you stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, before katsuki spoke again.

"for the record, though, your quirk works perfectly with mine too. remember last month when we took down that simulation villain together? that was all us, no borrowed power needed."

you pulled back to look at him, finding that familiar smirk on his face. "you're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "my partner got jealous over a training buddy. it's pretty cute, actually."

"shut up," you laughed, pushing at his shoulder, but he caught your hand and brought it to his lips.

"make me," he challenged, eyes twinkling with mischief.

so you did, leaning in to kiss him properly, pouring all your love and relief and apologies into the gesture. when you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, you felt like yourself again.

"so," you said, settling back against his side, "tell me about this training exercise you're so worried about."

and as he launched into an explanation of the complex scenario aizawa had planned, complete with dramatic gestures and colorful commentary about your classmates' weaknesses, you realized something important: this was what you'd been missing. not the explosive training sessions or the patient tutoring, but this—the quiet intimacy of sharing daily life with someone who chose you, again and again.

emiko was a good training partner. but you were katsuki's everything, and he was yours.

that was more than enough.

⌗ taglist: @idexmids @siriuslyginnychase @eleteo125 @st4r-dustx @corpsebridenightamare @boreaswrites [OPEN]

⌗ mutuals: @haikyuubby @va-3 @tulippanes @luvseraphh @miss-indigen0us @cupkiki [OPEN]

✦ REQUESTS ARE OPEN! ��

© KENZDOLLS 2025 . do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work in anyway including the use of ai onto any other social media platforms or it will permit an instant block on all platforms.

[sofilsword]

ᝰ INCLUDES ⋮ ex situationship!bakugo katsuki x fem! reader

— BONUS ARYA ⋮ i love this so much, this feels so personal to me because ive literally survived an almost 2 year situationship myself (who im lwk still in love with) but i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing this!

✩ Ex Situationship!Bakugo & it all comes crashing down.

You never really dated, but there was something between the two of you—something unspoken—in the lingering touches that lasted too long, the slight softness in his tone when he spoke to you, the hushed whispers of I love you, the late nights in his dorm room with both of your bodies intertwined, the stolen kisses you only dared to share in the privacy of his room.

It was good—too good, maybe. The bond you shared felt inevitable. But there was never a label, nothing solid signifying what the actual heck was even going on between the hero course student and you—a general studies student.

But just like all good things come to an end, so did your little fiasco with Bakugo. One second, you were lying on his bed, your head on his chest as he rubbed circles on your back, talking about his day and what stupid thing Dunce Face did to piss him off—

—and the next, you were both sitting upright on opposite ends of his bed, a heated argument breaking between the two of you. You’d had this conversation before, always skirted around the edge of it. But tonight, it was different.

“‘S not like I don’t want it! But I just don’t have time for what you want from me!” Bakugo groaned, tired of reliving the same conversation for what felt like the hundredth time.

“We don’t have to do anything new! It’ll just be like this—why don’t you understand, Katsuki?!” you yelled back, frustration running through your veins.

You wouldn’t have to change anything. It would be the same, just with a label to make things more… real. Your friends knew of him. His friends knew of you. And you already did most of that couple-y shit, so you just didn’t understand what the fuss was about.

“You don’t get it. You never will,” he sneered, his words hitting like a slap to the face.

You don’t get it. You never will.

Meaning, you’re just a general studies extra who doesn’t understand anything about the hero course.

“So that’s what it is now? You never had a problem before with me being a general studies student—someone who doesn’t want to become a pro!” you snapped, hurt lacing your words.

Bakugo just huffed, rubbing his face—confirming your suspicion. He didn’t want to have this conversation right now.

“Look, we’ll talk about this in the morning. How ‘bout that?” he offered, trying to end it. But this was your final straw. He couldn’t just imply something so mean and hurtful and expect you to go back to cuddling him like nothing happened. Was he out of his goddamn mind?

“Do you even like me at this point, Katsuki?” you asked, voice low and dejected, holding your tears at bay. No way in hell were you giving him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“What kinda stupid question is that?! ‘Course I fuckin’ like you!” he roared, genuinely offended that you would even dare question his feelings.

“Then act like it, goddammit! Don’t you see what you’re doing to me? Katsuki, we’ve been in this no-label relationship for almost a year and a half! And I still don’t know what you are to me—my friend? My boyfriend? A fucking stranger? I have no clue!” you snapped, finally done with the cycle.

“I—” Bakugo started, but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say? Of course, what you said made fucking sense, but the last thread of his ego couldn’t let him admit it.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore, I suppose,” you muttered, getting off his bed and making a beeline toward the door.

As much as you loved him, you knew you couldn’t do this anymore. You wanted him—all of him—and he wouldn’t give that to you. And you were done taking this half-assed version of him that he was offering.

“Oi! Where are you going, dumbass?” Bakugo stood up hastily, following you to the door.

“Leave it Bakugo. I’m done. I’ve gotten all the answers I needed,” you snapped, slamming the door behind you, leaving him with a whirlwind of unresolved feelings.

Bakugo?

You’d never called him that before.

He knew he should run after you, bring you back, stop you from walking away like that. You couldn’t just leave him. But his fucking pride wouldn’t let him.

He just stood there, fists clenched at his sides, cursing under his breath. Staring at the door like it might open again.

You’d come around.

You always did.

Right?

THNX 4 READING <3 RBS + COMMENTS APPRECIATED ིྀ

[sofilsword]

— unless you’re choosing me, you’re losing me.

success and fame or the supposed love of his life…what would bakugo choose, his ego or his heart?

pro hero!bakugo x fem!reader ✩ (1.2k) early twenties, angst, ultimatums and break ups (open-ended!), bakugo’s a little up his own ass & hasn’t had proper therapy or maturity but gets a hefty reality check. based on the prompt “what do you think is more important now, your pride or this relationship?" from @pixelcafe-network’s challenge Friday from a few weeks back, and the song “you’re losing me.” wrote this in a frenzy at almost 1am.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

The words leave your mouth before you can think about holding them in, the venomous emotion too much to contain. You shove your phone in Bakugo’s face, beckoning to the article on screen with the bold words “Dynamight Adamant on his Bachelor Lifestyle to be a Successful Hero” strewn across it.

The problem? He’s not single, hasn’t been for two years. But to the media? You don’t exist for the sake of his “image” — his words.

“The fuck do ya mean ‘what’s wrong with me’?” Bakugo spits back, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “Actin’ like you didn’t already know that’s how I feel.”

Ah, there it is, the classic deflection — it’s your fault.

“Jesus Katsuki,” you scoff, the anger swirling in your chest becoming more palpable by the second. “When are you going to take us seriously?”

He stares at you for a millisecond before his expression shifts into pure rage. You’ve both done this song and dance more times than you care to admit, and it always ends up the same way, dead in the water.

“Oh c’mon,” he growls, building up that same old defensive wall in his head, brick by brick. “Don’t be a goddamn bitch about it, like always.”

Bakugo immediately regrets the way he phrases his response, watching the way your eyes flood with hurt and how they’re quickly replaced with something even worse — disappointment.

“That’s rich,” you say under your breath as you turn away, walking down the hall to his bedroom.

“What’re ya doin’?” Bakugo calls out, his voice still laced with fury, jaw clenched tight enough to crack a molar. “Get back here!”

He marches down the hall after you, but the sight he’s met with gives him pause, his heart canon-balling into his stomach as he watches you clean out your drawer in his dresser. The one he saved for you, the one he insisted that you have because he couldn’t commit to living together — it was his way of committing to you without actually doing it. He couldn’t risk the potential damage to his career if, god forbid, he was spotted walking home with a girlfriend. Again, his words.

“Hey,” Bakugo almost whispers, his tone drastically devolving from fury into weariness. “Don’t do that.”

You don’t respond, continuing to empty the drawer and gathering the items inside. He bristles in the doorway — you’re serious.

“Baby,” he tries again, shakier this time. “Did ya hear me? Put that shit back.”

The drawer slams shut, making him flinch.

“Loud and clear.”

Bakugo inhales sharply through his nose, actual panic making his nerves twinge throughout his whole body. “Hang on, wait a damn minute!”

“No!” You finally snap, a flush filling your cheeks from withholding the emotions that threaten to drown you. It’s too much.

“I’m tired of waiting. That’s all I’ve done for two years, Katsuki! Your career — and ego — is more important than our relationship, than me!”

The words keep pouring out, unfiltered and heavy with resentment.

“I’ve dealt with you hiding me for the sake of your pro-hero popularity, pulling out of a lease the day before we planned to move in together, shooing me away from a table at restaurants during dates if paparazzi showed up. When will it end?!”

The equivalent of electric shocks surge through Bakugo’s system, his brain rattling at your words. Had he really been that much of a jackass to you?

“That’s not—!” He goes to argue, wanting to spew nothing but acidic nonsense about your ridiculous and baseless accusations. But that’s the thing, they’re not accusations — it’s the truth.

His chest physically aches under his scar at the revelation.

Your eyes sting with unshed tears, bruised heart on your sleeve on full display with the rest of your fractured love for him.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

A large, yet careful, hand reaches for your shoulder. You can feel the slight tremble of his fingers. Was it out of anger…or fear?

“M’sorry,” he apologizes through gritted teeth. His expression is difficult to decipher, a mixture of his last inkling of dignity and a dash of regret, you think. It’s not enough to change your mind in the moment.

“It’s too late for sorry, Katsuki. You either choose us, or you hold on to the egomaniac bullshit as a ‘bachelor’ pro hero for the sake of your fucking image.”

Bakugo’s mouth opens multiple times, the words he so desperately needs to say trapped in his throat. He wants to beg your forgiveness, to tell you how much he loves you and that he’s a dumbass for even letting your relationship fizzle to this point. Thinking back on it briefly, you gave him so much grace when he didn’t deserve it. He could’ve done so much to prevent this, and yet, he didn’t, like the coward he truly is underneath the armor he calls ‘honor.’

You shake your head at his silence, your heart shattering into a million pieces as you begin to walk away from the one person you called home. Bakugo watches in horror as you push past him and make your way to the front door. Time seems to stop, his feet glued to the goddamn floor in genuine fear. His future is walking out of his life, and he’s powerless to stop it.

The sound of the front door to his penthouse apartment opens with that familiar squeak on the hinge that he never fixed, followed by a beat of silence.

Now’s his chance, he has to run to you or he loses you for good. This is a fight he cannot win on words alone. He needs to act.

But he doesn’t.

That one last thread of pride in his veins tethers Bakugo to this moment in time, frozen with indecision. The door slams shut, the echo bouncing off the walls through the whole apartment. He’s broken the one thing he treasured so dearly, his own hands bloody with regret. Suddenly, the thought of achieving number one status without you by his side felt like a nightmare, his golden dream dimmed with newfound loneliness.

Bakugo sighs, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He’s gotta make this right, to show you that you’re a permanent fixture in his life and not something he’s content without. He needed you, and it’s about damn time he told you that.

He grabs his phone, dialing his publicist immediately. She picks up, barely getting in a greeting before he’s asserting his demands.

“Schedule an emergency press conference for tomorrow. Call every single goddamn news station, gossip magazine and whoever the fuck writes these shit articles. I’ve got somethin’ to say, it’s important.”

This time, he won’t ignore the signs and take reality at face value, he’s gonna buck up do something about it like he should’ve three arguments ago. Bakugo’s not banking on it being enough to give him a chance to win you back, but to send the message of how he feels about you, whether you choose to believe him or not.

And goddammit, he’s hoping you believe him.

[sofilsword]

˖⋆࿐໋ . texts with boyfriend katsuki

𓍼 incl. fem reader. crack

[sofilsword]

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ╰┈➤ @ssstaryy ⦂ i saw this tiktok where this mom was talking to...uh....ehem....(bonnie blue) and she said her son was turning 18 and she was rage baiting saying stuff like "oh send him over to me" so..... bakugou with pro hero wife and she gets baited too and she just kinda.....gets really SCARY quiet. i just wanted to see bakugou kind of like "welp i tried to help you" kinda thing lmao

》 ✐ᝰ shortened the ask for all intents and purposes BUT THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD PROMPT I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING ITTT thank you for your contribution to the badass reader universe hehehe

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

You swear your husband, Katsuki Bakugou, is rubbing off on you — for better or for worse.

It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes into this godforsaken interview for Tokyo’s Hottest and already, you feel the beginnings of a migraine clawing at the base of your skull

You had shown up expecting a conversation about your career — your rise to becoming the number four pro hero, the operations you’d led, the rescue missions, your combat stats, your innovative use of your quirk.

Instead?

All you’ve been fielding is a series of thinly veiled gossip questions about your marriage.

You try — multiple times — to shift the conversation back to your work. The meaningful things. But each time, the interviewer, this woman with teeth too white and a voice too shrill, giggles and steers it right back.

To him.

Now, let’s be clear — you love your husband. You’ve loved him since you were both dumb kids, and if it were Mina in front of you, you’d gush about him like you’re still twenty and head-over-heels (which, let’s face it, you are).

But this isn’t about love.

This is about respect.

And right now, you are very aware of the way it’s being chipped away with every loaded, invasive, disrespectful question this woman throws at you.

“So,” the interviewer purrs, crossing her legs slowly as if she were the one being filmed for a commercial, “we know you and your husband are totally head over heels — swoon — but come on, what’s one thing about him that just drives you crazy?”

You blink. “Uh… no? We’re pretty good.”

“Oh, come on~!” she coos, leaning forward like she’s your best friend at brunch. “Just a little thing. Don’t worry, we know you’re still obsessed with him.”

The frustration bubbles up like boiling water under your skin. But you rein it in. You always do.

“...I guess he leaves his gear everywhere?” you offer weakly. You hate yourself the moment the words leave your mouth, but in all honesty, you just wanted her to stop her nagging.

The interviewer grins like she’s won. Like you just handed her a headline wrapped in a bow.

“Ohhh, well if that’s the case,” she purrs, her voice dropping into something sultry and entirely unprofessional, “you could always send him over to me. I can handle a little mess~”

Silence.

Complete, thick, suffocating silence.

You still.

The rage is instant. Hot, electric. But you don't explode. No, you’ve learned from the best.

You don't throw a chair. You don't curse her out. You don't even blink.

You just stare.

Expression blank. Smile gone. A flicker of fire burning slow and deadly in your gaze.

She shifts in her seat. She knows.

Everyone in the room knows.

You don’t need to yell to be terrifying.

Still, she tries to recover with a nervous laugh, tugging at the hem of her skirt.

“Well, I’m just joking, obviously-!”

“Oi. Cut the fucking cameras.”

Your heart squeezes.

Katsuki.

You don’t even have to look to know where he is - somewhere just offscreen, barely holding back the urge to burn this studio to ash. But as much as you adore him for storming in like your personal hellfire…

This isn’t his fight.

This is yours.

You raise a hand toward the cameraman, who’s frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Keep rolling.”

The room stills.

You turn back to the woman, and you smile. Not sweetly. Not kindly. A slow, cold curl of your lips that spells nothing but trouble.

“Look,” you start, voice smooth like poison, “Hikari, was it?”

She nods once. Slowly. Carefully.

You lean in.

And twist the knife.

“I’ve worked my goddamn ass off to be the number four pro hero in Japan,” you say softly. “I’ve trained until my body broke. I’ve had to endure hours of torture and not say a word. I’ve walked out of burning buildings carrying children while my skin peeled off in strips.”

Her smile falters.

“But sure. Let’s talk about my husband domestic flaws”

You tilt your head, faux-friendly.

“I am not here so you can drool over the man I married like some thirsty little gremlin in red lipstick. My life? My work? My worth? None of it belongs to the man I’m married to - and treating him like a trophy on a shelf for you to paw at just shows how desperate and disgusting you really are.”

You lean back, letting the full weight of your fury settle into your words.

“He’s not for sale. I’m not here for your views. And you sure as hell aren’t getting anything from either of us.”

You sit up straighter, smile sharp.

“And that’s a wrap.”

The crew is frozen. The room? Silent. The air? Thick.

And the camera? Still rolling.

— You go to sleep that night thinking it’ll all blow over.

Spoiler: it does not.

When you wake up the next morning, your phone is vibrating so violently off your nightstand it might file for harassment.

You scroll. And scroll. And scroll.

You're viral.

Like, break-the-internet viral.

Screenshots of your face, lip curled, eyes burning; clips of your brutal monologue with remixes in the background. Edits of you walking out of the studio in slow motion with music that would make Endeavor himself flinch.

Comments flood every corner of the internet:

@ shotatochips13: mommy??? i mean- mommy?? @ kamijiroushipacc: dynamight’s definitely kicking his feet rn @ redriotinmybed: lowkey the interviewer is me but i’d flirt with HER instead @ ilovedekudotcom: book boyfriends could never.

You stare, open-mouthed. This is… a PR nightmare. But also? Kinda badass.

You wander into the kitchen in a daze, only to find Katsuki at the counter.

He's got his phone out.

And it is very clearly playing an edit of you - with some concerning angles that you don;t bother asking about.

He looks up, completely unbothered, smirking.

“What?” he shrugs. “Tried t’warn you, baby.”

You sigh.

You are never going to hear the end of this.

But when his arms slide around your waist, when he presses a kiss to your shoulder and murmurs, “Proud of you,” against your skin…

Yeah.

It was worth it.

A/N: badass reader is my roman empire now

[sofilsword]

katsuki bakugou x f!reader

➪ wc: 11.2k+ || minors dni 18+

➪ warnings/tags: timeskip! pro hero! bkg (late twenties), horse farm setting (pls refer to my notes), use of the first person in diary entries, reader has a quirk, slow burn, slight enemies to lovers, angst and arguments, reader injuries (bc bkg is dumb), happy ending (pinky promise), a lot of slang, accents and swearing (broken english, almost), mentions of death from quirk incidents, mentions of animal death, oral sex (f. receiving), loss of virginity, doll as a pet name, reader has a whole lot of personality, improper science (nitroglycerin as a cheat code lol), bkg is ultra soft with a bleeding heart and I can't think of anything else

➪ notes: alright. let me start by saying this work is the equivalent of me walking into a room of people, stark naked, and just going like: "hi, it's me!" genuinely, that is this work. the experiences touched upon in this fic are all from real ones I've had working with horses growing up. it's a very sacred part of my life and world, and recently I've felt myself drifting from it because of the career path I've decided to take. so, I wrote this because I felt like I'd be hiding from myself if I didn't, and I wanted to face it all without running away as I'd planned. honestly, I just missed it all so much. wow, that sounds dramatic. it most definitely is. anyway, this work might be confusing to read at some points, and that's intended. horse slang, if that's what we're calling it, is used heavily without much explanation. it's because you're supposed to read this fic from katsuki's perspective, almost—it shouldn't always make sense. but the human parts will, I hope. regardless, I hope it hits all just the same. please enjoy. this one's from my heart to yours. mwah.

➪ a/n: the biggest hug, kiss, and thank you to oz for being there every step of the way through this one. it was a fifteen-hour escapade of madness. love you.

Wednesday

It felt like a storm was coming, but it didn't. Just hot, muggy, and gross. The horses felt the same. Misty started pawing at the gate after an hour in the pasture, and like the trendsetter she is, all the others followed in tearing up the grass. She's a diva, but I don't blame her. If I was forced to bear three foals at my prime age and deal with kids kicking on my back and pulling at my mouth all day, I'd probably be the same or worse. Poor thing—all of them, really. Poor animals only learning to live after they're finally too old to actually do it. People are evil, and horses are horses, I guess.

They know it too. Each time I get a new horse, I have to think they do. They give me this look before stepping off the trailer, this "You're my last stop, aren't you?" kind of glare, and then drop and roll in their stall like they're fluffing their grave. Whatever. Gotta be better than real retirement homes with real ass people. People get aggressive and senile when they're old, and horses just get... happy, for once. No pressure on their back, a mouth full of overgrown grass, and happy. Lucky fuckers. I wanna grow old and happy and not throw shoes at a nurse because I think she might be Satan in my bedroom, trying to shove a pill down my throat. How ridiculous. I don't want to grow old. I'll let one of these horses whip me into the ground before it happens. The last rodeo, and maybe one of the barn cats could—

This is getting grotesque. Anyway, it felt like a storm was coming, but it didn't. One is most definitely coming tomorrow, though. Gotta bring the horses in early, or they might get rain rot, and that's always the worst.

Thursday

It rained and poured. Blondie dared to look at me like it was my fault. Horrible first impression. Who the fuck walks into someone's barn and goes, "It smells like shit in here"? Like, yeah? Yeah, it does. It's a barn, asshole. I really didn't think Shouta was serious when he asked if someone could crash here, but then, of course, he's always serious, so I guess that makes me the idiot. Brought him down in his black city car, tossed him out like bad news, then dipped. He was probably too pissed to come out—got his tires all muddy and shit. I don't know why people expect a barn to not be a fucking barn. So now I have twenty-four horses and a big slab of a certified prick in the guest room to watch over, all thanks to being nice and saying yes. I'll never be nice again. I've learned my lesson.

At the very least, he's kind of cute in a grumpy puppy sort of way. He speaks at full volume, though, so that was our first problem. Either the horses are spooking, or my ears will start ringing, and I can't handle both. He finally shut up after he realized I wasn't going to fight back. You gotta feel dumb yelling at the lady letting you stay in her house surrounded by a bunch of horses staring right back at you. I hope he felt dumb. Asshole.

Then he got all quiet and weird and started backing near Gus's dutch door, and I almost let him bite him. It could have been funny, but then I remembered he's a firecracker and would probably blow Gussie's face off with his fucking palm by accident. A ticking time bomb. Blond and ticking and pissed off at the rain. At the very least, he's cute.

Friday

I'm allowed to call him Katsuki. That's either a privilege, or maybe he doesn't want to be reminded that he's a hero while surrounded by the fields and the wind whispering that it doesn't give a fuck who he is. When he's here, he's just the guy I spent an hour explaining how to work the tracker to.

I said it's like a giant lawn mower that doesn't cut grass, just carries the hay bales and drops shit to the compost. That didn't help. I don't think the man has ever mowed a lawn in his life or really driven much, to begin with. That has to be the downfall of being a star so young, then being forced to continue shining. When you look at it like that, he's like the horses. Fresh off the track or suspensory blown because some greedy asshole thought a pony could jump three foot six easily. I don't pity him, though. My neck sprained again from his cocky rooky sway. Never being nice again. It's gonna be the death of me.

I was barebacking Dreamer, just walking around the indoor 'cause it was too hot to be under the sun today, and then like a bat out of hell, comes Katsuki on the tracker without warning. So, of course, Dreamer spun me off. And, of course, I fell off because, of course, I did. Then it was a mess. Dreamer's freaking out, and Blondie's freaking out too because he thinks I'm dead. He went all hero on me, literally blasted himself toward my body on the ground like it'd help. Dreamer lost his shit because, of course, he did—running around and crying like a bomb went off. Then the bomb that did go off is hovering over me and not letting me get up, saying I might have broken something. I wanted to slap him. I would have if he wasn't so cute. It's a crime to bust a pretty face.

Finally, he moved, and I could breathe again. I knew my neck was sprained because it's my fourth time and the feeling never really changes. But you gotta get back on, no matter what, especially while the adrenaline is still fresh and it doesn't hurt too bad yet. It was embarrassing to baby-talk a horse off the ledge in front of Katsuki. I knew he was judging me the whole time, could feel his cat eyes on my neck and its scruff. But it works, so fuck him.

He grabbed my wrist after realizing what I was doing on my way back to the mounting block. I told him that if I didn't get back on the horse would be traumatized, that you can't ever end a ride badly, or they only ever know bad to start. He said, "Fuck the horse. He hurt you." I wish I covered Dreamer's ears and maybe my own. Ignorance is the ugliest song I've ever known.

I told him to leave, and after three minutes of staring at him, he finally did. It hurt like hell to get back on. The adrenaline was gone at that point. Blondie must have taken it with him.

Saturday

I don't think Katsuki thinks I'm cute. Maybe it's the neck brace that turns him off or the fact that we don't get along about anything. It doesn't really matter anyway. He's not gonna be here forever—thank God. When he leaves, it'll be easier to get shit done again. You'd think having an extra pair of hands and muscles would help, but it doesn't. He doesn't fit here. He should, he could, but he doesn't. He doesn't know how to be to not be himself, and the horses don't know how to not take it offensively.

But he's getting better. Still don't know why he's here, doubt I'll ever find out, but he's here and better. He helped do the meds today—held all the syringes and pills like a walking pouting pharmacy. He kept yelling whenever I turned my head, reminding me of my neck and how I was only gonna make it worse, like I couldn't feel the fucking pull of it myself. It kind of felt nice. It's been so long since I've been around people, I realized. He's probably the worst one to attempt to get used to.

But he's alright. Not as loud, and maybe it's because he does think I'm cute and is scared he might get me fucked up for real if he's not careful. I wanna be cute to him, somehow. It's probably impossible because he's seen me at my worst too early, sweaty and smeared with dirt like a doormat. I could be a cute doormat, though. I hope I am.

Sunday

He has the loudest thunder of a laugh. I deserve a gold star for getting it out of him too. It wasn't even that hard or that funny, but it got him to his knees, and it was fun to look down at him for once.

I was grooming Danny, trying to show Katsuki how it's done—use the curry comb to loosen the dirt, the stiffer bristles to get it out, the softer brush to polish the coat off. Then came the hoof picking. I leaned into Danny's shoulder, got his hoof in my palm, and started lecturing Blondie. "You wanna avoid picking at the frog. It's like their cuticle," I said, knowing damn well he didn't know what the fuck I was talking about. Sometimes it's just fun to do that to him—use words he doesn't know and let his pride shut him up, too scared to ask. He probably didn't even notice because Danny went and nearly took a chunk out of my butt. That had him hollering. 

"He fuckin' bit your ass," he said. I was so embarrassed if I'm honest. I didn't wanna be like, "Yeah, well, sometimes he just does that," and throw Danny under the bus and get him all embarrassed too. The old man's almost twenty-three, all greyed and withered. I've known him since he still held color, so I thought he'd have my back. I just said, "He didn't mean to," like an idiot, and then on cue, Danny, a fucking traitor, goes for it again, and it hurts too. I've never heard a man laugh so hard. It's a good sound—a warm one. Made my skin all hot, sticky, and gross.

Then he just kept laughing, clutching his washboard of a stomach like it could even recoil under all that muscle, dropping to the ground. I started laughing too just to hear what I sounded like with him. I think it's the first time we shared something together besides dinner in silence.

Monday

Katsuki learned how to figure eight a bridle today. It looked like shit, of course, but he learned. He's got these big ass hands, so it was entertaining to watch, too—kept fumbling with the leather straps 'cause they're too tiny for his grip. It was kind of hot, annoyingly, made it hard to focus on anything but those stupid hands.

He must have been curious today because he asked so many goddamn questions. I answered them all, too, just to hear him talk more. He asked if I'm alone out here, and I said yes. Then he gave me this look like it was the wrong answer 'cause he was right there next to me, so I'm not alone. I had to give him a look back to remind him that he's not out there, that he's just roleplaying the modest life.

Then Winston started colicing, and it all went to shit from there. I called Doc, trying to stay calm under the heat of Katsuki's dying curiosity and confusion, drinking in my alarm like a shotgun of beer. I knew the answer before he picked up, but Winston and Katsuki were watching me, so I had to pretend to have hope for them. He'd already had too many surgeries, and Doc said it'd be too dangerous to open him back up, cruel even. He offered to come down, but Winston blew his nose, started chewing again, and just gave me this look. My heart nearly shattered. Horses are intelligent creatures, sometimes too much for their own good. I told Doc that Winston wanted to see this one out by himself, and then he sighed on the line, apologized, and told me to call again when he needed to be picked up. I said, "Of course," and hung up.

It'll be hard to see that one go. He's gotta be the sweetest one here, bay with four white socks, a thick white blaze down his nose. Winston used to be a star when he was younger. He won everywhere he went, helped a lot of kids stay out of trouble with his gut issues and kind eyes. He's a loved horse, loved by so many. Of course, they're all gone now, moved on and grown up, working adult jobs and scrunching their noses at the mud. So he came to me like a treasured childhood teddy bear—all crushed from being sat on for too many car trips by accident, a new figure in the kid's grip.

I hate to lose any of them. Sometimes I wish I didn't love them so much. But I have to, and I will. I'll always be the girl that picks them up in her two-horse trailer, trudging them and their memories and fears behind the truck, feeling the weight of their years bounce on my lap over each train track we pass. I'll be the one who remembers them and loves them to the end, and they'll be the specks of hair I can't ever get out of my clothes, the ache in my neck, and the tug at my heart.

God, if you're real, please don't let Winston die just yet. I want him to stay just a little longer. Please. He may be ready, but I'm not.

Tuesday

Tuesday's empty still. Katsuki stares at the page anyway—like words will magically appear. He knows he shouldn't be here in your room, diary in his grip, head flooding with your thoughts. But the door was open, and so was the book. He didn't think. He just walked right in.

The sound of the front door slamming makes him jump. He thinks he's caught, shutting the diary to hide the evidence, then reopening it, remembering that's how he found it. It's pouring out, raining cats and dogs, and there you go running with your bare feet, forming new puddles.

He watches from the window, about to laugh, thinking you're the craziest girl he's ever met—the cute doormat with a pretty smile. But you're sprinting, heading straight for the barn. He tastes his heart on his tongue, throbbing and loud.

You cover your face with your hand as he finally reaches you in the truck, the high beams blinding you until he hops out and helps you up in the passenger seat.

"It's Winston," you pant, nightgown clinging to your skin as you dry your phone off on the leather, staring at the camera feed.

Katsuki gulps.

"S'gonna be fine," he says firmly, forcing his eyes straight ahead as you sniffle, damp and cold.

Your silence unnerves him. You're never quiet. Even in your damn diary entries, you've got enough personality to rock him off his feet. He wants to rattle you then, shake you until you shake back, cussing him out and calling him dumb. But you're quiet, and it's eerie. He helps you out of the truck.

A sound escapes his chest when you wrap your hand around his wrist, tugging him with you inside—his heart pleading for mercy, a chance. He follows you mindlessly, eyes glued to your bare feet, a growing urge to lift you up and let you walk on air.

You both stop outside of Winston's stall. He's lying down, nuzzling his stomach, and whimpers when he sees you.

"I know, baby, I know." You let go of Katsuki to unlock the latch.

He stands by the opening as you slip in, pine shavings sticking to your soles. Your body shakes slightly, dusting the ground with rain pellets, letting it absorb the pain you brought with it.

He watches you crouch down, petting Winston's neck slowly, almost choking when you peer over your shoulder to look back at him.

"Can you please get me the bute?"

Katsuki is frozen for a moment, stuck in the sudden change on your face. You're calm. Static and calm.

"The white powder shit?" He asks, gripping the pockets of his sweatpants like he might have it on hand, anxious.

"Yeah. Mix it with water like I showed you, and get it in a syringe for me," you nod, turning back to Winston.

"How much?" His voice is coarse, panic spiking at his throat.

You pause, about to tell him, then realize it might be too much to ask—that Katsuki won't always be here to do the heavy lifting.

"Watch him for me," you say, gone in a blink, jogging silently down the aisleway.

Katsuki stares at your back and then hesitantly at Winston.

Shit. 

He wasn't good at this sort of thing. Was he supposed to talk to the horse, pet him like you always do? He knows he's not supposed to just approach them—that they're really just big babies with an extra set of feet. He glares at Winston, studying him. He doesn't want to piss this one off. You said—wrote that he was the sweetest one here. Katsuki wonders if the horses know like you say they do—if Winston knows when he's crying out for you that you're already on your way, sprinting in the rain.

Winston exhales, looking past Katsuki, searching for you.

He knows.

"I'm back," you breathe, holding a large syringe tube, pain relief just a gulp away.

Katsuki nods like you're talking to him, then realizes you aren't.

"Was Blondie nice to you while I was gone? He didn't say anything mean, did he?"

Katsuki huffs, crossing his arms in defense as he leans into the wood. "Didn't say shit," he grumbles.

You ignore him, inserting the chute into Winston's mouth, "I'm sorry, Winston. I know it tastes bad, but it's gotta be better than the pain, right?"

You're still talking to the horse, and Katsuki stands there, ignored, slightly bothered. He shakes his head. Pathetic—you're making him pathetic enough that he's jealous of a horse on its last leg, drinking chalky medicine as you cradle its chin.

"Thank you," you sigh, rubbing slowly up and down Winston's face, your heart ripped from your chest as he leans into the touch.

The rain is picking up, wind slapping it against the side of the barn. It's unbearably loud. Katsuki's fists tighten by his thighs, angry for Winston and you as it disturbs the moment's peace. But you're so gentle, unaffected by the storm, as you drop your forehead against Winston's.

Your hands trail up the sides of his face, massaging his ears until you stop to cup them.

"He's dying," you whisper.

Katsuki tenses, watching Winston's eyes flutter shut, waiting as your palms drag to brush over his lids.

"He's always had issues. Born to be a problem child, you could say," you smile as you turn, pressing your cheek into Winston. It burns slightly—the sprain at your neck is still fresh, lingering.

"But he was the coolest fucking horse. The All Might of horses, if that helps," you giggle lightly, amused at your own comparison.

A chill sweeps Katsuki at your use of the past tense. He's still alive, he wants to say, don't act like he's dead yet. But he knows better than most that it's best to accept loss before it comes rolling and crashing in. He stays silent.

"A superstar—a hero, and now he's here with me." You bite your inner cheek, piercing the emotion threatening to strike, hoping it'll deflate. "I guess every hero has their fall. Can't run forever. At some point, you gotta lay down."

You stare up at Katsuki. He sucks in a breath.

"It's not so bad down here, y'know."

You stay there for a beat, eyes locked until it hurts too much to look at him, and you turn to face Winston.

"But you'll always be a hero to me, buddy. You're still the coolest horse. You always will be, to me," you murmur. You press your tongue flat against the roof of your mouth, holding it there as you fight the hiccup at your throat, the tears that beg and weep.

"You'll always be his," Katsuki says.

The rain is loud. You cry just to know what it sounds like to join it.

"It's off-center," you complain, squinting at Katsuki's back as his shoulders drop.

"Hah?" He twists his torso, bracing himself against the wall as he shifts on the step ladder to face you. "It's straight, woman. The rest of them are just crooked."

"Are you saying I did a shitty job with the others, then?" You raise an eyebrow, watching as he climbs down.

"Basically," he nods.

"Rude," you bite back, fighting a smile as he moves to stand beside you.

He mutters something under his breath, and you both stare at the wall, glittered with horseshoes nailed to it. He's right, you think—the rest are a little slanted. Winston got the favorite treatment. He deserves it.

"It's kind of creepy," Katsuki turns to you, waiting for you to look back before continuing. "You sure this is a rehabilitation place? There's a lot of horseshoes up there."

You snicker at that.

"Most of them are just here to retire," you say, looking up at him. He really is handsome. You cross your arms in defense. "And it's not creepy. I just... I want them all to be remembered, is all."

Katsuki nods, exhaling, "Yeah, I get that. I do the same."

You're visibly confused but nod—never pushing him too hard. His jaw slacks, debating if he should explain, wishing you would poke and prod, just to feel your touch once.

"I keep a list," he says, finally.

You tilt your head, interest peaked but soft and welcoming. He runs a hand through his hair before starting.

"It's um... It's of all the people, y'know. The ones who," he pauses, swimming in your eyes, searching desperately for shore—something to make this easier, "died on my watch. It's like you said. I just don't want to forget any of them. Not ever."

You frown slightly, sympathy pooling in your irises, making it harder for him to keep treading. He wishes you wouldn't do that. You're going to make him choke.

"I-I don't think he told you," Katsuki pauses, feeling guilty for lying because he knows Shouta hasn't. He shouldn't have read your diary. He shouldn't have invaded your space. "But I'm here because of that, actually. I know you don't watch the news 'cause you like your shitty ass cartoons or whatever—"

You feel heat crawl up your neck in embarrassment. Of course, he picked up on things. He was living under your roof, after all. It still makes your pulse skip.

"But there was an accident—or no, I guess I was the accident," he cringes slightly, shaking his head. "I was trying to detain this villain, but he was so fucking fast, and he took this girl as hostage and... I tried so hard to be careful. I went for everywhere she wasn't, but I slipped up at one point and hit the building behind them."

He swallows, peering down at your lips, "Seven people died. I didn't notice at first. I just kept going after the guy and eventually got him. The girl was safe, and I restrained him. I thought everything was fine until I heard screaming. Everyone was huddled around this pile of broken concrete and screaming."

"Seven people died because of me," he finds your eyes again, waterline damp, flooding him, "and I know all their names, their families. I don't want to forget them. I won't."

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, like a reflex.

"It was my fault," he says, turning away from you. "They put me here to get me out of the press for a while—called it an honorable leave."

He lets out a breathy laugh. "It's bullshit. There's nothing honorable about it. The fucking villain killed less people than me. Not sure how I'm any better than him anyway. What good am I as a hero if I'm only good at destroying things, right?"

You reach out, grabbing his shoulder, "You can't say that."

"Yeah," he turns back to you, "I can. I'm not good at being the nice guy, the fucking Deku and All Mights of the world. I'm built more like a villain. Don't tell me I'm not 'cause it's true. They thought so too."

Your mouth opens, but he glares down at you, begging it to shut—to be heard without protest.

"I don't want to be one, though. I want to be good. Good like you."

You suck in a breath, releasing your grip. Katsuki panics for a moment, watching your head shake as you sulk.

"You don't know, then," you say. Katsuki's brows furrow, face scrunched as you rub your neck, "It's nice to know Shouta still keeps my secrets, I guess."

The air feels heavy as you collect yourself, running through the correct way to approach things, making Katsuki leap to every worst-case scenario as you do.

"I'm not good with people either," you start, glancing up at Winston's horseshoe, refusing to look at Katsuki. "My quirk... it's really harmful too. I've hurt people too."

He tenses beside you. You ignore it, continuing, "I make people's hearts stop. Literally, that's all I can do, and when I was little..."

You squeeze your eyes shut before staring at the ground. "It manifested without warning. I was in the kitchen with my mom. She was making dinner, and I was just watching from the counter. I remember looking at her and being so happy because she was making my favorite. Then suddenly, she dropped to the ground."

You can feel his eyes on you, his face softening until it almost doesn't look like him anymore. With a deep breath, you face him.

"I tried to help, but I only made it worse. I was making her heart beat so fast, inducing a heart attack. Then my dad and brother came down because I was yelling, and I thought they could help, but they... they dropped too."

Your gaze trails to his chest, his heart, "I was a child. I called for help, and eventually, Shouta came to the scene. He was the only one who could approach me safely—him and my dog. He brought me to UA and taught me how to control my quirk. I was away from the students for obvious reasons, but it was a lost cause. I'd never get to join them anyway. You can't become a hero when your quirk can only kill. Not that it even mattered. We found out later that it's only triggered by a strong sense of love."

Katsuki stutters on a breath. You swallow.

"But animals—for some reason, it didn't affect them. My love wouldn't kill them," you smile, struggling to hold the form as your lip trembles, "they could always handle it."

Katsuki's face is unreadable when you finally look back at him. He's so still and quiet, a statue, afraid to do or say the wrong thing. You falter, terrified you already have.

You let out a sad, forced laugh, shaking your head, trying to snap out of the sorrow, "So anyway, now I know why you came here, and you know why I'll stay. We both learned something, right? That's... good."

"You've always been alone, then," he notes sharply.

You bite your inner cheek, dropping your gaze again, "It's for the best. Just in case, y'know."

He's furious.

"That's fucking bullshit," he spits, a flame ignited beneath him.

You blink at him, speechless.

"How are you okay with that? Who the fuck told you that this was okay?"

"I like it here. It's fine—"

"It's not, though," he cuts you off. "Why do you have to hide from the world and shitty people like me don't? I get honorable leave, and you're just what? Bound here forever? It doesn't make sense. You're a good person. You don't deserve this."

You exhale, body shaking.

"Didn't you hear me? My quirk kills people, Katsuki. There's no other way to use it."

"It's not your fault, though. Your quirk is shitty, but you're not."

"Y-you're a hypocrite."

"What?"

"You're good too. You have a shitty quirk, but you're good too, Katsuki. You care. I've seen it—I've felt it."

"It's not the same."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not like you. You're... you're a little fucking weird, and that's probably 'cause you've been cooped up here for your whole life, but you're... actually good. You care so much about these horses, it's almost ridiculous, but you do. You've got a big heart, enough for all of them. You love too hard, is all. That's your only flaw. You're a sucker, and you love too hard."

"And you don't?"

"Huh?"

"You don't love too hard too?"

"I don't know what the fuck you're saying."

"I saw you crying after they picked Winston up, Katsuki."

"So?"

"So you have a heart. You love them all too. I know you do."

"Not like you do."

"Why does that matter? Why does—"

"Because I want to!" He clamors, panting. "Fuck. You're—hah, you're fucking my mind up a little. I'm getting weird just like you 'cause I want to. I want to know how to love like you do. I want to feel it so bad. Enough that it makes my heart stop. I don't care. I'd let you."

You shake your head vigorously.

"You don't know what you're asking for. You don't. You don't—"

"I probably don't," he retorts, stepping toward you. "Doesn't make me want it any less, though."

"You've only known me for two weeks," you say, helpless.

"Yeah, and I don't ever wanna not know you," he mutters, getting closer.

You can feel his body heat radiating off him, the scent of burnt sugar licking at your nose.

"I like you." His hand brushes your cheek, thumb guiding your chin up to him, locking you in his gaze. "I like you and your dumb fucking horses too."

"They're not dumb," you whisper, breathless.

"I know," he smiles.

"Then why'd you say it?" You frown, sliding your arms up his chest, behind his neck.

"'Cause I'm not a good guy, and you look cute when you pout like that," he says.

"Then what does that make me for liking you?" You grin, lips brushing his.

"A good girl with bad taste."

Katsuki kisses you roughly, earning tiny, desperate pleas as he takes what he wants. You squeeze his neck, tightening your arms around the muscles until he pulls back, growling at the pressure. You stare at him in awe, unable to catch your breath, mindless as you lean in to seize his bottom lip between your teeth. You tug it carefully, feeling his body tense, exhaling deeply through his nose. You sigh, watching it snap back into place, blood rushing to the area, mouth darkened with greed. He lets you gloat in the feeling—wants you to get drunk on the rush it gives you. But he's impatient, and you're so hot against him, like a furnace, driving him crazy. So he's back, knocking his forehead into yours, starved—tasting you, tongue slipping into your mouth, insatiable and confident. His thumb massages your neck, and he swallows the cry you release, the pain and lust filthy dripping down his throat.

"I feel it," he grumbles, crass and eager.

"Feel what?" You slur, fisting his hair to bring him closer, trying to kiss him, but he pulls back.

His eyes are steel, steady, and sharply red.

"Your quirk," he says, unmoving.

You let out a shaky laugh, but he doesn't budge, frightening you.

He's serious.

"That's not possible. You'd be dead," you breathe, shuddering at the thought.

"I'm not, though," he murmurs, almost purrs.

You gasp as he unhooks your arm from his neck, placing your palm flat into his chest. His pulse is heavy yet stable, but you can feel it at your fingertips. He's right. Your quirk is activated, and you didn't even notice. It's alive, and somehow he is too. All the blood drains from your face.

"Doesn't hurt too bad," he promises, slicking down your paranoia, "It's 'cause of my quirk. Nitroglycerin, it relaxes the heart. I produce it naturally."

You frown slightly, still unsure, so he rephrases, "I'm not affected by your quirk. I can handle it. You and your love. It feels good."

"I don't love you," you say weakly, blood rushing back, making your head heavy.

"'Course you don't. You're just making my heart race for fun," he grins.

You suck in a breath, stuttering on it, "Shut up."

"Kiss me then," he says.

So you do.

You kiss him till it hurts, your palm never leaving his chest, his heart pounding against it. It's terrifying to let yourself go, so he holds you tight. So tight you think maybe it's your heart that'll stop first.

"I burnt your toast."

He hums, taking the mug from your hands and bringing it to his lips to sip, not even flinching though it's burning hot.

"I like it like that," he mumbles, sighing as you drop in the seat across from him.

You hiss at the sharp feeling between your thighs, nails digging into your hip as you shift your weight onto it.

"What's wrong?" He's got his hero face on, all concerned and ready to save.

You frown, shaking your head. "Nothin' just sore."

He's not satisfied with that, eyes narrowing as he studies you, "From what?"

"Stop frowning. I'm fine, seriously," you reassure, patting the table as you stand.

A faint "ow" tumbles from your lips, and he huffs.

"You're a suck ass liar," he says, getting up to stand with you. "Tell me what's wrong."

"No," you make your way into the kitchen, knowing he's following you, "it's nothing. Leave me alone."

"Not gonna," he promises, watching as you lean down and open the freezer, "I just wanna help."

You sigh, snatching an icepack before placing your hands on your hips, trying to be assertive, "I said I'm fine, now move, you're in my way."

Katsuki tilts his head, amused as he smiles wide like a shark, smug.

"You're too embarrassed to say," he decides, eyes roaming your body before leading back to your annoyed expression.

"I'm going to my room," you announce, taking a step forward. Katsuki doesn't move, a brick wall between you and escaping.

"What about breakfast?" He grimaces—like he's offended you're not going watch him eat his shitty burnt toast.

"You're a big boy. You can eat alone," you walk into him, groaning when he doesn't budge.

"I wanna eat with you," he brushes your hair with his palm, peering down as you prop your chin against his chest to face him, "and know why you're acting so weird all of a sudden."

"I'm just a weird girl," you say, cringing as he chuckles in response.

"Yeah, but this is extra weird. You're hiding something from me. Like I said, you're a shit liar."

You pout for a moment, but he doesn't buy it, so you sigh, surrendering.

"It's from barebacking," you confess, dropping your gaze to his neck, tracing his collarbone, "Roma's got a big ass wither, and I took her for a trail ride yesterday 'cause she hates the lunge tape, and..."

You look up at him, then down and back up, begging that it hits him. His eyes widen a moment later, and you're relieved.

"Why didn't you use a saddle?" He questions, curious and a little proud of himself for thinking to ask, noticing how it catches you off guard.

"She hates girths too. I think someone pinched her a couple times with it, and now she can't bear them," you explain, fighting a smile as Katsuki nods, taking it all in—learning.

"So now you're sore 'cause of her wither bone?"

"Yeah, almost feels like I bruised my... y'know," you mumble, looking to the side to escape his smirk.

"No, I don't know. Tell me."

"Don't make it weird," you say, nudging at his chest again. He's a mountain, and you're just the idiot trying to get over or around him, whichever is quicker.

He exhales deeply after a moment, relaxing enough to move back a step.

"Let me help you, then," he whispers.

Then you're the one frozen, tongue heavy in your mouth as you look up to confirm he said it.

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm asking to help. I'll hold the ice for you."

You want to call out how impracticable that'd be, how it'd be easier if you just sat on the icepack and you both had your hands free. But Katsuki is so handsome. All muscle and this boyish charm you only see in movies yet have playing out right here in the kitchen in front of you. Impracticable suddenly sounds really good.

"Alright," you settle, acting nonchalant, trying hard not to choke on your pulse.

"Good," he says, stepping to the side to let you free. You steer for the table. He grabs your wrist halfway there.

"Thought we were going to your room," he murmurs.

"What? I thought you wanted to eat breakfast?" Your eyebrows crumple together, lips turning down in confusion.

"I like your idea better now."

You narrow your eyes at him, but he doesn't give anything away, just looking back at you with his familiar face—like he's innocent and you're the weird one. You're always the weird one, you think.

"Fine, my room it is," you shrug, your neck prickling as you turn, something twisting at your core.

"Lead the way."

You've never brought him to your room before—never brought anyone to your room before, you realize. You're suddenly mortified. Katsuki has experience. It's written all over his face. You're still too scared to tell him he was your first kiss. A small part of you knows he didn't need to be told. It's probably written all over your face too.

"Um, this is it," you say lamely.

Katsuki looks around, pretending he hasn't been here before. The horses are in almost everything here. A painting on the wall, a small sculpture on your nightstand, He can't help but think it's kind of cute. You're a nerd for horses in the way Deku is for All Might—the way Katsuki is for All Might. They really are your heroes.

"Very you," he notes, making your nose crinkle up as you nod, embarrassed.

Biting the bullet, you sit on the bed, patting a space for him next to you. The mattress bounces you with his added weight, and you pet it as if to calm it down.

"Lay down," he directs, taking the icepack from your hand.

You drag yourself to the center, gulping. You've become comfortable around Katsuki, but this was a significant step if you're being modest. You're in a loose-fitting tee shirt that kisses your thighs and does a terrible job at hiding how you're not wearing shorts, the fabric bunching at your hips as your knees bend. Your panties aren't even cute, you remember, feeling the air hit your skin as you refuse to check, and Katsuki shifts to bring himself closer to you.

He massages your ankle, eyes glued to your face, not daring to peak just yet.

"You alright?"

You let out a small, measly sound, like you're suffocating and just caught air, "Yup. I'm good."

He squints at you, releasing his hold, "You're nervous."

"For what?" You huff, almost genuinely asking—begging.

"I make you nervous," he clarifies, not taking the bait.

You pause, thinking it over, even if you don't need to.

"I'm insecure," you say, shifting your gaze to your thighs, tensing at the sight of them like you haven't had them attached to you every single day of your life, and you're surprised to just meet them now. "You're the first person I've ever gotten this close to. I have some friends through horse things, so more business relationships if anything, but... I've never been with someone like this. Like you."

Katsuki breathes in deeply, wetting his bottom lip with the swipe of his tongue. "You think I'm gonna judge you or something? 'Cause I know, you're a little thick at times, but I didn't think you were actually dumb."

You huff.

"Was that supposed to be reassuring?"

"Kind of?"

"It wasn't," you smile, staring right at him.

He looks gentle under the early sunlight, broad and delicate against the cotton sheets.

"I'm trying to say you've got nothing to be nervous about. I like you. I like you a whole fucking lot. Don't let whatever you're thinking surpass that truth."

He says it softly, but you know he means it with the grit of his teeth, silently asking you don't make him bear them to prove it to you.

"I like you too," you say, finally.

"I know," he smiles, rubbing your calf as you nod, opening your legs for him.

You gasp when he presses the ice to you, his eyes still on your face, eating up your reaction. He nestles his nose into your knee, kissing it. You think you might melt.

"Feel better?" He asks, breath brushing down your thigh as he rests his cheek against it.

"Not yet," you whisper, fighting the urge to clamp your legs around his forearm, suddenly aware of how close he is.

He grins into your skin, closing his eyes and planting another wet hot kiss onto the meat of your inner thigh, "You sure?"

"I'm not," you say in a haze.

He's trailing down, pecking your leg until he pauses, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

"Do you want me to then?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to make it feel better?"

He holds you there, eye to eye, his hair tickling your flesh.

"What do you mean?" You let out a shaky breath, feeling him apply more pressure to the icepack.

"I wanna make you feel good. Let me."

You wait for the feeling to come—fear and shame, something begging you to stop before you make a fool out of yourself. It doesn't, though.

You look at Katsuki and don't feel anything but his heart and how steady it is in your palms.

"Please."

He kisses your thigh, then shifts up, placing an elbow beside you to drop down and plant a kiss on your lips—sweet and slow.

"I'll be gentle," he promises. You believe him.

He kisses you again before lowering himself, biting a smile back as you pout at the loss of his weight above you. It's wiped right off your face when he dips down, nuzzling into your heat, tossing the icepack next to him. He kisses you there, so delicate you almost can't feel it, still a little numb from the cold. But he warms you up, poking his tongue out to dip into you, teasing you until you whine enough that he rocks back on his knees and helps you shimmy out of the material.

You hide your face as he stares at you and your nakedness, fully clothed himself.

"I know you won't believe me, 'cause you're you, but you're fucking perfect, doll."

The pet name sounds sweet on his lips, but you taste so much sweeter.

Your thighs muffle your moans, but he likes them at his cheeks, threatening to suffocate him with how tight you hold him there. He grins when your hands find his hair, tugging and pulling, letting go and giving in to him. You're like putty in his hands, and he's just trying to memorize how you feel, studying you with his tongue until he knows how to mold the shape of you.

You cry when his thumb presses into you, rubbing focused circles on your clit, adoring it under his touch. Then you really are putty in his hands, hot gooey lava that slips between his fingers as he works desperately to lap you up, not wasting a drip of your euphoria—his hard work.

He climbs up your body to kiss you, swapping spit as you gasp at your taste on his tongue.

"Feel good?"

You nod into him, panting between kisses, not ever wanting to pull back.

"Wanna hear you say it," he moves to your chin, trailing down to your neck.

"I feel good," you sigh, running your hands up and down his back, feeling hot to the touch at how big he feels. So strong and yet careful, aware of his size and weight, you the glass under his feet.

"Mm," he hums, finding his way back to you, "I feel good too."

He stares at you then, the dumbest grin on his lips, drunk on you.

"I like you so much," you whisper, lifting a hand to cradle his face.

"Does that scare you?" He asks, leaning into your touch.

"A little, but I like it. I like you," you stare at his lips, watching as he turns his face to kiss your open palm, speaking into it.

"Good. Don't ever stop, then. Be mine."

You suck in a breath, then look at him, and let it go.

"I'm yours," you say. "Always."

"We're almost there."

His arms are crossed, and you think he looks a bit like a child at the moment, stubborn and impatient.

You've been walking down the dirt road for at least an hour now, and he's already asked five times why you didn't want to just drive down, and you've already given the same stupid answer: you like walking, it's fun. 

He'd be okay with it if you weren't wincing every other step, squeezing your hand in his. You're on your feet all day, he thinks. How much fun did you intend on having?

"Okay, it's just around the corner, I think," you pull him slightly, dragging him out of his internal debate about how mad you'd be if he just scooped you up on the way back.

"They better be fucking nice if you're getting blisters over them," he mutters, feeling a tug at his heart as you giggle.

"They're my favorite. Worth all the blisters in the world."

Then you turn the corner, and he'll give it to you—they're pretty fucking nice. Huge too, he notes, watching as you run free, letting the flowers hit your body.

"They're so pretty," you beam, the sun starting to set as you dance in its golden hour.

They're alright, he thinks. You're what's so fucking pretty, what's worth dancing about.

"C'mon, don't just stand there!"

He sighs all heavy like you're taking years off his life just for asking, but proceeds anyway. He's stiff in front of you, barely moving, so you're like liquid in the air to make up for it.

"You're not having fun," you frown, poking at his chest before twirling.

"You're fucking insane if you think I'm gonna do whatever you're doing right now," he says, mesmerized.

You laugh at that, shrugging slightly, "That's fair. I don't even know what I'm doing either."

He can tell. You're just flowing with the breeze, and he's watching with his breath caught in his throat. He wants to be there with you suddenly—in the air getting swept away.

You squeal when his hands grip your hips, lifting you up in the air, spinning you.

"I'm flying!" You muse, smiling down at him.

"No, you're not," he laughs, smiling back.

It starts raining then, sprinkling on your back as he slowly lets you down, scowling at the sky.

He stares up at it for a moment, deep in thought. You let the flowers tickle your back until he finally decides.

"No way I'm walking back in the fucking rain," he spits.

Suddenly, your feet are back off the ground, with an arm secured behind you. You clutch at his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso tight.

"It's gonna be loud," he warns, and just like that, you're in the air.

Just like that, you're flying.

Katsuki's quirk is ugly in a lot of ways. It hurts your ears, violent and aggressive in nature. You know he hates that side of himself, the one that carries the blood lost from these short, firework-like blasts. In the air, it's different. It's jarring and quick, but you feel safe, smiling through the whiplash. Soaring, your body pressed to him, you think he's the coolest man you've ever met. Your hero. Katsuki is, and always will be, your hero.

He lands shortly before meeting the barn, dropping to his feet and sprinting with you there in his arms. It's the perfect distance away from the horses, you realize. He didn't want to spook the horses.

You're both dripping wet when you get to the house, shaking in the air conditioning as you run up the stairs. You rush for the shower and somehow end up on your bed instead. The sheets are ruined, and you decide you like them better that way.

You sigh into each other's mouths as he enters you, thighs hugging his hips as he kisses your face, telling you that you're doing so good for him. You think you get it then—love, why people talk about how they like it so much. At one point in your life, you were afraid of it. Love is your weapon, and there's no safety on your trigger. Katsuki kisses you anyway, though. He kisses you until his jaw hurts, your bare skin kissing too.

It stings a little, but he's slow and patient, allowing you to adjust. He chuckles lightly when you start rocking into him, kissing your shoulder and asking if it feels good. You're eager to show him, moaning his name, touching his back and all the muscles flexing beneath your palms as you do.

The rain is loud against your window, but you sound good with it, and for once, he thinks he might like it. Or maybe he just really likes you. No, not like, he—

"I love you."

He says it first, cupping your face as his hips stay at yours, keeping you molded together.

"Promise?" You ask, beaming as he nods above you.

"I promise. I love you."

You lift your head to kiss him, smiling against his lips.

"I love you," you say and mean.

"I promise it too."

Katsuki's hand brushes up and down your arm until you can't feel it anymore, and it's like the air that surrounds you both. You're by the window, overlooking the pastures on his lap.

"You could come with me," he says.

You both know you won't. You're staring at the first reason, the second thumping in his chest.

"Or you could stay," you whisper, nestling your face into the crook of his neck, wishing you could remain there forever.

"I can't. I never could," he sighs, lips pressing to your scalp.

You nod into him. Of course, he couldn't. He's still in his prime, after all. He's gotta be someone's star while he still has the flame. He doesn't belong here, not yet, at least. Silently, you wish he never would. You wish he'd never know how the ground feels beneath his feet. He moves so naturally in the sky.

It's silent for a while, just his breath and yours synced, slow and steady—ready for a storm.

"Come with me," he asks, begs.

"Sunflowers don't grow in the city," you say.

He knows what you mean. He knows that means no, and it always will.

"You're right. They don't. Not like they do here," he mumbles, exhaling to break the cycle, your hearts on a different beat.

"Nothing out there is like it is here," you whisper, not even sure if it's true.

"Nothing like you, that's for sure," he smiles and then stops because it hurts too much.

It's quiet again, time passing too quickly. You can feel him fading beneath you—a foot out the door, his hand still on your thigh.

"What if I can't live without you, Katsuki?"

He tenses, the hand at your arm stopping, reminding you he was there—that he's always been there.

"You'll just have to hold your breath till I get back, then," he says.

Something tickles your hand as you reach out in slumber, something soft yet rough around the edges.

"Kat?"

Your eyes open before you can even really see, just a blur of colors and a soft yellow that gives you hope, resting against the pillow beside you.

But it's just a sunflower, you realize. It's not the yellow you've grown to favor, the blond with a bite. It's a single sunflower and a small notebook beside it. You open it up to read.

Friday

I read your diary. I'm sorry. That was probably one of the shittiest things I've done to you, maybe right under getting your neck fucked up the second night. I'm sorry for that too, by the way. I don't even remember if I told you I was, but I am. I'm sorry, and this is a shitty way to make up for it, but I'm trying.

I have to leave soon. We don't have many days left, and by the time you read this, I'll be gone already. I hope our last day is a good one. You better not cry, either. Please don't cry. I swear this isn't goodbye. Not for forever. I promise that.

Saturday

You are the love of my life. Have you figured that out yet? If you haven't, I've gone something terribly wrong, or you really are stupid.

Of course, you're not. You're smart. My bright, sometimes dumb, pretty girl. God, do you even hear what I sound like right now? You make me sound all gross and shit, doll. Fucking gross. But I think I like it. Really, I just like you.

You're in the shower right now, and I'm being smart in my own way by taking the time to write for you now while you're busy. Be proud I'm not begging to join you, 'cause I really wish I could.

Maybe I will, actually. Yeah, I think I will. I want to kiss you right now, so I gotta go. I'll act smart later.

Sunday

I'm terrible at this diary shit. You're so good at it, too, I'm a little jealous 'cause I thought it'd be easy.

We have two more days together, and today I thought about asking to marry you. I don't even have a ring, so I'm not sure how I thought it would work, but I considered it. Really I did. You're allowed to laugh. I know it's ridiculous.

I'd bet you'd say no. I'd be mad if you didn't. You deserve a ring, a really nice one too. I've never understood them because it's just a rock on metal, but I don't know. Is it still a rock on metal if it's slipped around your finger since you said yes? Today I thought it couldn't be, that'd it'd be so much more. I want to marry you, doll.

I want to marry you.

I do.

I really fucking do.

Wait up for me 'cause I'll never stop waiting for you.

Monday

We had sex today.

Imagine if I just left it like that? It could have been funny. Fuck, it would have been. I already wrote on the end of the page, though, and I don't wanna rip it out. It'd be a whole thing, then. You'd be looking for that page forever, probably thinking it was some sappy love letter, and I wouldn't have the heart to tell you it was just this.

It could have been funny. Fuck.

But anyway, we did. I know you probably thought about it, so let me just tell you where you can't fight the answer: yes, you're the best I've ever had. You were incredible. You are incredible. I'd go into detail, but I think that might be too much. Or maybe that's what you like. I don't know. I just realized I don't know.

I don't know everything about you. I've known you for three months, and I don't know if you'd be happy or not for me to do this. Maybe you'll actually hate it. Maybe you'll read "I read your diary" and fucking hate me and stop there. I hope you won't, and to be honest, I know you won't, 'cause you're you. I know you enough to know that you're you. That I love you, and you love me.

I want to know more, though. I don't want to have to guess or think when it comes to you. Isn't that what love is all about, doll? No questions and second-guessing, just knowing or not needing to. I want to reach that with you. We can't do it in a day and only have one left.

I'll come back to you so we can. Even if it kills me, somehow, I'll come back to you. You'll be the star I follow to guide me home. You will be my home.

Please.

Tuesday

I don't know how to explain this feeling in words, but if I had to, it's gotta be like losing the sun and never knowing warmth again.

You are so radiant. The horses see it too. I think maybe you're their sun, and that's why it's never cold here.

Since this is the last entry, I'll be blunt with you. When I first came here, I thought you were the most out-of-touch person I'd ever met. You talked to the horses more than you spoke to me, and I genuinely thought you might be insane. Then I got you spun off Dreamer and realized it was me who didn't know shit. Again, I'm sorry for that.

You've changed my life since that day. Every day since I've met you actually, I've changed. You make me a better person, doll, and somehow I didn't fuck you up into becoming worse. We work well together. I almost think you were made for me, and I was made for you. I know I sound so goddamn weird, but this time I'm asking you don't laugh because I'm fucking serious.

You are the only one for me. I'm sorry that it's true, that you're stuck with me forever. I'll make it worth it, though. I'll spend every day making it up to you. I'll do anything you ask too.

Just not staying. I can't do that, not yet. I wish I could, but we both know it wouldn't be right. I'm just not ready to settle down, doll. I'm not like Winston. I haven't reached the top of that hill just yet. But I'm going to, and I have to. I need to be up there. I want to be someone you look at and think I'm worthy of resting my head on your lap, that I've lived enough days and fought enough battles to just lay there with you forever.

I know you're not ready either. You need time away from me to catch your breath again, to grow with the weeds and flowers. You need time to miss me so much that you couldn't ever get sick of me again. I know that. You need to be the sun for them too. I can't steal you like that.

So promise me you'll still love me when the timing is right for it. When I'm bruised and beat and don't have the charm to carry my shitty personality anymore. That's a lot to ask, but the thing is, I'm so greedy, and I'll ask for it.

I won't stop loving you. Don't stop, either.

Dance in the fields for me, pretty girl. One day I'll be so tired, I just might dance with you.

Dear Katsuki,

It's been years. Not a day goes by that I don't think about you, though. I started watching the news just to see you again. You really are a hero. You're the best I've ever seen.

I miss you so much, Kat. I think I'll miss you forever, some days more than others. When it rains, I miss you most. I miss your grouchy face and how you held me tighter during storms. I almost forget what it feels like, which scares me the most. Sometimes I close my eyes and can't see you, so I panic. I think I'm forgetting you in those moments, and I realize I never hung you up on the wall, that maybe you were never really here, and I just dreamt the time we spent together.

You asked me to never stop loving you. I think it's cruel that you thought you even had to ask like it was a choice I ever had a hand in making.

You said I was your sun. You're a fool, Katsuki. Don't you know the winter is so much colder here without you?

I think you might have ruined my life by kissing me so softly. I hope I ruined yours too.

I think you've lived enough. I think I couldn't stand to see you bruised and beat. Your head has always been too heavy. Won't you come home and rest here on my lap, just like you said you would?

I hope the city is keeping you warm. I'll have to burn it if it isn't.

I love you. I love you till it hurts, and some more after that.

Be my sun so I can dance again.

Come back so you can ask to marry me. I'll let my answer be a surprise. You'll just have to wait and see, won't you? Come home and find out.

I miss you.

I'll be here when you're ready.

I love you.

It felt like a storm was coming, but it didn't. You're grateful for that. You've been getting so many lately that it's beginning to feel like an omen, thinking the people on the news saying the world is ending may just be right. You know they're wrong. The world already ended, you think. It did the day he left you, but nobody seemed to notice. They're all late pointing fingers now.

It's nighttime, but you're still working because there's nothing better to do. Cleaning is therapeutic until you watch all your work gone in seconds. The horses don't appreciate as you do. But you do it anyway, polishing the barn doors like they'll ever be seen by anybody. You think maybe the moon cares. It glows the farm nicely at night, so at least you have one fan.

There's a bang by the end of the driveway. You check both doors, adrenaline pumping, realizing you left them open to dry. Did you forget to close someone's stall fully? You don't think you have time to check. Whoever got loose is already far down the road. You stare at the truck and then, for some reason, think you might be faster than an engine at the moment.

You realize about halfway down that you're most definitely not. You're more out of shape than you remember being, panting as you push yourself off the dirt, heart in your throat, burning it. You think you can see it then, in the distance. Somethings moving slowly towards you, quiet and steady. It's not one of the horses, you think. It's not wide enough. So then what?

You pray it's not a coyote or something. That'd really fucking suck. No way you ran all the way down here to get gobbled up by a coyote.

It's still moving, the same pace, still quiet. It's too dark to make much out, though. If it's trying to kill you, it's doing a terrible job—giving you way too long of a head start to run if you were smart enough to take it. Something about it has you frozen in place, your skin slick with sweat as you catch your breath.

"Hello?" You call out, feeling dumb for trying. Coyotes don't talk back.

"You're still here, then?" It asks. It asks. 

The voice is familiar, but you almost can't pinpoint it, a gush of wind carrying it too far to reach.

"Yeah? Yeah, I'm here."

That triggers something within the shadow ahead because it's running then, full speed ahead, straight down the line to you. Suddenly the air feels warmer. You almost forget it's night.

"It's really you?" He yells, getting closer by the second—your head start long gone as you nod into the dark.

You pinch yourself. Then again, and again. It hurts each time, but you keep doing it, afraid you're in a dream with a happy ending you can't bear to see if you'll never actually have it.

"It's me. How do I know you're you?" You shout, fighting against the breeze.

Then there's sparks. Small bursts, like tiny fireworks. You see sparks.

You're running again, adrenaline back and so strong you can't feel your legs anymore. Katsuki grunts when you crash into him, jumping into his arms, knowing he'll catch you.

"It's you. It's fucking you!"

You're squeezing him so tight, on his body and heart. He hasn't felt his pulse so strong in a while, not since you last gave him the reason to.

"You're gonna spook the horses," he whispers, holding you back just as tight.

"Fuck you," you say.

You don't remember when you start crying, but it's making a mess. His shoulder is damp, and suddenly, you realize yours is too. Your hero is crying. The sun's weeping at your neck, begging to finally be let home.

"I did it," you say, breaking the silence.

"Did what?" He pulls back to press his face into yours, brushing against it like a cat.

"I held my breath for you."

Katsuki kisses you then, under the audience of the stars and the weight of the world melting off his shoulders, his furnace pressed against him once again.

"Was it worth it?" He asks, pecking your nose and cheeks, covering you in what you've almost forgotten.

"We'll have to find out, I guess," you smile, feeling him walking down the road still carrying you, returning home.

Monday

Katsuki relearned how to figure eight a bridle today. It looked like shit, of course, but it's him, so somehow, it's perfect.

It feels good to have the sun back on my face, in bed beside me every night. He's the only heat I want to know, so I said yes today.

I doubt he was surprised, but I made sure to at least look like I had to think, just keep him on his toes.

He's gonna look so handsome in a suit. I hope I look even better in my dress to punish him for waiting so damn long to come back.

Kidding. Maybe.

Truth is, I really was holding my breath. So it feels good to breathe again.

I love him so much. So much it makes him blush.

I have to go now. Katsuki's in the shower, and I want to join him. So bye, for now, and maybe forever. I just wanna dance with him, so you understand, right?

You've been good to me, diary. You can rest happy knowing you end on a good note.

I'll be just fine. The sun's back in town, didn't you hear?

I think winter's gonna be just fine.

© all content belongs to @eremikan, do not modify or repost

[sofilsword]

fwb!bakugo is the only guy that’s made you cum from penetration alone. mdni (17+).

one minute some broken sentence is leaving your mouth about how he’s too deep, and the next you’re seeing colors as your pussy squeezes tightly around him.

katsuki slows down, hand still pressed against your lower tummy to feel the outline of his cock, as he watches you with a crooked grin. his already inflated ego growing bigger.

nearly a minute has passed and your walls are still pulsating with satisfaction around his thick dick. he almost grunts, but he quickly covers it by grumbling about how it’ll take more than that to make him cum this quick.

the after shocks of your orgasm are still flowing deeply through your body and katsuki never stops fucking you through it, not even once. crimson eyes stay glued to the blissful expression on your face, waiting for the moment he can resume his bruising rhythm again.

the second you give him the go ahead, his hips are bucking into yours—just like before—propelling your body forward on the bed.

“what were you bitchin’ about again?” he chuckles. his curved dick and brushes over your gspot again and draws another moan from you.

“doesn’t matter. if i hear you open that pretty mouth again and you’re not telling me how much you love this dick?” he growls. “i’ll fuck that attitude outta you. have you beggin’ me to stop ‘cause this pussy can’t handle it.”

your blood runs even hotter than before with increased arousal from his words. a warm hand glides up your body, grazing your breast in the process before he takes your chin between his fingers.

“that’s a promise.”

[sofilsword]

SAY STAY.

synopsis: you're hoping you can stay and sleep with katsuki tonight.

notes: unofficialbf!katsuki obvi! but i think it can be read as official bf too lol. mild angst but it's honestly not that deep im just dramatic. but this is an x reader fic so you have to be dramatic too, okay? also not proofread i cant be bothered gn

you and katsuki are having a chill movie night, though you're not watching the movie at all. you're on katsuki's bed, your head on his chest and your legs intertwined. your head feels heavy, eyes drooping and sleepy, heart warm and content.

you want to stay so bad.

and it's not just because you’re too lazy to go back to your own dorm or anything (though you'll admit that trudging back to your dorm right now sounds highly unappealing). it's about wanting him. you just want to curl as far as you can into his warmth and turn into a boneless puddle in his arms. feel him cradle you to his body like you're something precious. wake up in the morning with him all sleepy and affectionate, maybe get a few soft forehead kisses. you just like being near him in general. he makes you feel safe. warm. wanted, maybe, if you don’t think too hard about it.

and his bed is sooo cozy and warm. his room smells like him. and your heart’s been aching lately in that soft, slow, touch-starved way, like it’s asking, hoping for something gentle.

you start to close your eyes. you didn't ask if you could stay the night, but you just assume, infer, hope that his desire to be close to you is nearly half as strong as yours. so, you say nothing, and hope he lets you stay.

surely he's comfortable too. surely he's been secretly hoping you'd stay tonight the way you have. surely he'd also like to cuddle to sleep and wake up still entangled, hearts and bodies intertwined.

but then he says it.

“hey. it’s getting late. you should probably get to bed.”

he’s not even looking at you. he’s half scrolling through his phone and half watching the movie, his thumb still rubbing mindless circles on your back.

your chest pulls tight. something behind your eyes stings.

you nod, small. try to smile.

“yeah,” you say, standing slowly, peeling yourself off of him. “yeah, you’re right.”

you take off his hoodie carefully, try not to look disappointed when the sleeves fall from your hands. he doesn’t notice. or maybe he does and he’s pretending.

you want to say something.

you want to ask, “can i stay?”

you want to tell him, “i don’t want to go.”

you want to question, “do you want me to be here the way i want to be here?”

"do you want me the way i want you?"

but instead you just fold his hoodie and set it on the chair by the door. try not to crumple into yourself when he stays silent.

your face is molded into an undeniable look of sadness, heartbreak, and mild disappointment. you catch it in the dark reflection of his window and swallow it fast.

“goodnight,” you whisper.

he grunts.

you walk out.

the hallway feels colder than usual. you wrap your arms around yourself on the way back to your dorm. your chest is buzzing, like it doesn’t know whether it wants to cry or scream or curl up and sleep forever.

you tell yourself it’s fine.

you tell yourself it's really not that deep. you were overstaying anyway. you’re clingy. too affectionate. too soft.

of course he didn’t want you there.

you lie alone in bed, the warmth previously filling all of your senses absent. you feel cold and empty, struggling to drift off to sleep despite being on the verge of it just five minutes ago.

your mind is flooded with so many thoughts. you're unreasonably anxious. things deprecating like, "you're too clingy" and justifications like, "he probably just needed some space and alone time" fill your head.

but above all, one thought stands out as the most prevalent.

"why doesn't he want me the way i want him?"

-

extra:

katsuki stares at the empty space where you were sitting. the dip in his sheets. the way his hoodie still smells like you.

he meant to say, "stay."

he meant to ask, “you wanna crash here?”

he meant to tell you, “i sleep, hell, even breathe better when you're with me.”

but the words caught in his throat.

and now you’re gone.

masterlist likes, rbs, + comments appreciated!

[sofilsword]

I’LL BE HERE (WAITING) (8.0K)

pairing - katsuki bakugou x reader

synopsis - The rest of the customers have left already, since the downpour had calmed to a quiet drizzle by then, but Bakugou hasn’t gotten his order yet. He’ll tell you to hurry up, that he has somewhere to be, but he doesn’t, because he didn’t have anywhere to be at all. Even if he does, if he had the choice, he’d stay here, with you maybe. (Or, alternatively, Bakugou falls in love with your grounding insignificance.)

cw - FLUFFY !!!!! pro!hero bakugou, coffee shop AU, angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence, reader has no specified quirk

a/n - inspired by “sunflowers don’t grow in the city” but i can no longer find that work on ao3 :( finally decided to cross-post this ancient relic from ao3 after editing a bit

taglist - @cashmoneyyysstuff @staraxiaa @hatsukeii

wednesday

You swear that when you catch feelings, which you will as much as you promise you won’t, you’ll keep quiet, you won’t tell your closest friends, you won’t even have the chance to deny the guess even if it were correct because your friends wouldn’t know that you have a crush to begin with; you’ll watch, you’ll listen, and you’ll do those in silence too; they won’t confess because people just don’t do that nowadays, and you sure as hell won’t neither because everything eventually falls apart, and you’re already busy from picking up the pieces from before.

Maybe you’re still making yourself more likeable, paying too much attention to details nobody cares about, maybe you’re still making people fall for you intentionally, maybe you’re not, who knows? But what you do know is that you won’t fuss over having a crush anymore, because people grow aloof, they turn selfish, and things get messy, and more so, they get too tiring to be cared for.

thursday

You find that you often attach your emotions to songs; right now, before closing, you’re feeling the same exact feeling you felt all those years ago, back when you were 16 years old, after school, giggling with your friends, drawing little hearts next to your crushes’ names, all huddled up around your desk talking about boys, the homework that was originally the whole entire reason why you got together in the first place laid ignored on it too; back then, it felt like you were eternity.

And back then, never have you imagined that by the time you were at the age of twenty three, you’d be working at my own cafe, well, sort of, half cafe half library.

friday

It’s getting cold, again. Right after the A/C gets fixed when it hasn’t been working the entire summer. The sun is starting to reach the counter earlier again. You’ve missed this. You hope you’re not being basic, but you love autumn so much, and the amount of mochas you can get without being judged since you are the boss at a fucking cafe after all. You’re being basic. Fuck it. Cause you love being basic.

The moon really does offer solace, to the ones drowning in their own thoughts, to the ones that are bored out of their minds. Never moving, just, there. The crickets.. quacking? (You laughed at that, your own joke) Cricketing? They’re behind your ears, you feel like you are out of place somehow, wherein you should be in a movie instead. The city lights, the blurring ones, they’re so pretty: the red, white, and blueish ones? Flashing flashlights on faraway mountains, on the tips of airplanes, I guess you never really realise how fast they’re flying until you’re on the ground and looking up, standing still. You think you can close the cafe early today, you have to open at six tomorrow, God please let me get a good night of sleep. It’ll be fine though. It always is.

saturday

Today, the Number Two Hero visited your cafe. I know. Crazy right? You couldn’t really freak out over it though, since this is a place supposedly made for people to find the quietness that they need. You don’t know why you’re so surprised that Ground Zero (number two hero!) does in fact wear normal clothes. He is still human after all, you sometimes forget that, that they’re mortal. Anyway, he looks totally different compared to what he does on billboards, where he’d either be in his hero costume or some high end fashion suits that probably cost more than this cafe. He’s just wearing that. Sweatpants and a tank top. I mean, boring but definitely flattering. He isn’t a hero for nothing, his job is literally to stay in tip-top shape. To fight bad guys or whatever.

Okay that’s a bit mean, he does keep the streets safe, but he’s kinda rude, yeah you get it, you’re exhausted from the constant flashes surrounding you, but really no need to scream at everything and everyone you see. He hasn’t screamed here today, though.

Maybe you don’t get it, after all.

Other than him, nothing interesting has happened. All the same, teenagers that either bring other teenagers here to take aesthetic pictures and look at books or they bring their very reluctant significant others here. It’s always a victory to see said partners grow fonder of this place as they spend time here. Small wins. You know its charm, that was the whole reason why you bought it.

Blondie left after a few hours, right when the sun was setting, it’s a shame that he didn’t stay, the view there is always the best out of the entire harbour. It’s also a shame you didn’t ask for his autograph, you could have sold it for something, that’s a certain.

ᝰ

He scoffs as he reads that line, of course you only want his autograph to sell it for money.

ᝰ

sunday

On again, off again, love you like oxygen

You heard that on the radio today when you were driving to the grocery store, and fell into one of your melancholic episodes again. You wanna be in love, can someone love you? Please? You know it’s stupid and selfish and just ridiculously not right to wait and do nothing until someone finally makes the move, and expect them to be the perfect match to all your standards, but can’t a girl dream?

6:47 pm, Ground Zero comes in again. At the spot he sat last time too. Near the window, at the corner on your left. All depressed and quiet and stuff. So for the entire day, he was at the corner of your eye, grumbling under his breath for whatever worries he has, or had, you hope the cafe eases at least one away.

monday

The weekend is over, for five days you’ll be writing in this journal for ninety percent of your work day, which is actually very fine with you. In the morning, you had the biggest order of this month come in, five new york cheesecakes, five iced americanos, six iced bubble teas, and one matcha muffin. You hope their party is going well. You wonder whether they’re having a farewell party, but this early in the morning and on a Monday? They’re definitely living the good life.

He comes in, again. It’s the third time this week, the atmosphere was kinda nice before he came in, I mean, it couldn’t really be bad since you were the only person there. He sits in front of you this time. The table that is closest to you, which happens to be in front of you too. He also orders a black coffee besides the usual chocolate chip muffin. Of course Dynamight would drink coffee as dark as his soul, straight, bitter, like him.

tuesday

You’ll have to stay till late to clean up. A typhoon without prior notice hit the harbour so everybody came in here to hide from the rain, so the floor is wet as hell. Hopefully you don’t fall, you don’t want an ass print on your pants.

The cafe is crowded today, a lot of tired workers came in after they got released early to go home, only to get hit by the heavy rain on their way back; and also you had a lot, a lot, of students. Reminds you of the days where you’d make plans with your friends without checking the weather forecast first, but today there was only one hero, though.

And who would have guessed that he’d be the one for small talk?

ᝰ

“Why do you have so many romance novels in this shithole?” He mumbles as he looks around at the books as if they were gonna attack him.

“First, it isn’t a shithole. And second, I’m a sucker for love.” You smile. His heart skips a beat.

ᝰ

“You’re always writing in that journal, what could possibly be interesting enough here to fill that many pages?” He asks you, laying his forearm on the counter, while you’re tapping away at the screen at the drink he just ordered. With a frown on his face, of course.

Villains are humans too, and apparently they don’t like wreaking havoc in the rain either.

He’s grown to like you more. Or maybe just the cafe. Maybe. He doesn’t have to deal with the press or any obnoxious fans or anything here, really. You didn’t react, like at all, when he first came in. He skipped breakfast that day since he woke up late, he got home later than usual the previous night, and fell asleep on the couch immediately, so he didn’t get the chance to set an alarm either. Luckily he still made it to his patrol the next day on time though, he just gave up his precious food for it.

“It isn’t interesting, but wouldn’t you want to know, maybe a few years later, exactly what you were thinking on this particular day?” His answer is no, no he would not like to know what he was thinking back in his UA days.

Read: no he would not like to know what he was thinking back in his horny puberty days.

The rest of the customers have left already, since the downpour had calmed to a quiet drizzle by then, but Bakugou hasn’t gotten his order yet. He’ll tell you to hurry up, that he has somewhere to be, but he doesn’t, because he didn’t have anywhere to be at all. Even if he does, if he had the choice, he’d stay here, with you maybe.

ᝰ

wednesday

It’s becoming a routine at this point. Between six thirty pm to seven o’clock, he comes in and orders his coffee, then he leans against the wall and watches me clean up the tables and prepare for closing.

Sometimes he’ll help you open the rubbish bin when you’re walking there with the broom and tray already taking up space in your hands, but most of the time he just watches you, like a hawk. Though he still washes his own glass, the glass that holds his bad choice in drinks, (black coffee is disgusting, you stand by it) you don’t think he knows that you still have to wash it again after he leaves.

When he does, you flip the sign from open to close, you shut off the lights, then you take the glass along with your bag and walk upstairs to your apartment and wash it there.

You hope you’ll see him again tomorrow.

thursday

Sales have been going down. The rest of your income that usually goes to your savings is going down. The bills stay the same, the rent stays the same, but income is going down.

You sold three more vanilla cupcakes when you were waiting for him at 7:01 pm. You hope you’ll see him tomorrow, you didn’t today.

friday

ᝰ

(His heart is pumping: You hoped to see him again today.)

Friday is still empty, but he looks at it anyway. He knows he shouldn’t be here reading your private thoughts, now that his head is flooding with them, but the thing that you’ve been writing in since the day he first visited the cafe was right there in front of him, exposed and naked on the counter, inches away from his tapping pointer finger when you were in the back readying the batch of muffins needed for tomorrow’s early baking.

Now, he’s thinking that maybe he should treat the agency to a pastry or two, or thirty, or more, tomorrow, from his favourite half cafe half library, sort of, anyway.

ᝰ

“What?” His assistant asks him, eyes unblinking, what did her boss just request?

“It’s not that fucking difficult to understand, order a drink and a snack of everybody’s choice from the corner street cafe down the harbour. I’ll put the extra money in your November paycheck.”

“From Espresso Express?”

“..yes.”

The agency is in a better mood after that, chirpy, despite all the calls coming in reporting villains causing trouble, people going in and out, in and out to stop the trouble, and some needing the many, many first-aid kits in the building, everyone is chirpy, and so are you.

ᝰ

friday

Today, the biggest fucking order came in, since the entirety of the cafe’s history, shit you not. Twenty iced bubble teas, eleven hot ones, two lattes, two caramel shakes, ten new york cheesecakes, ten matcha muffins, ten chocolate chip muffins, and five vanilla cupcakes. Bless whoever made that order. This month’s income just jumped ¥36000. That’s enough to pay two and a half months worth of bills, mind you.

ᝰ

The door swings open, making the tiny bell on the door ring a few times, zephyrs running through the strings of his hair, making him even more attractive than he already was in his matching tracksuit.

“How was today’s sales?” the first thing he asks after walking into the cafe. And when he looks up, he sees the tiniest smile decorating your face. Then what the fuck does it take for this shitty woman to laugh?

“Well, very, very well. Your patrol?”

The question definitely shocked him a bit, not really, so you do know that he’s a pro hero, how come you’ve never made a reaction before? He is the number two hero after all, it didn’t phase him that you knew who he was, right?

“More villains, nothing I couldn’t handle though, some stupid shitty pickpocketing gangs that didn’t even put any thought into the whole process, if you’re gonna wreak havoc at least do it well.”

And you laugh. So that’s what it takes?

He notices that you are placing two plates down on the table he is sitting at, hm you look cute in that apron.

“Don’t you dare waste my food, I’ll fucking kill you, pro hero or not.” He takes it back.

ᝰ

saturday

I saved her today.

ᝰ

The sound of glass shattering makes you jump, looking up immediately you are met with the sight of civilians running, almost over each other. You grab your bag at once and dash outside, the stupidest decision you could make.

Running while carrying a tote bag is more difficult than you imagined. It bumps into everything, flipped over cars and other running people mostly, but never mind because your tote bag is knocked out of your hands when a blast of water is shot at your back so hard that you fall to your knees. You immediately feel the skin tearing from the rough asphalt road and your muscles bruising from the impact, you get up immediately though, it doesn’t matter if you lose your phone, or your wallet, or your entire bag, just not your life.

Then your ear drums almost burst from the sound of explosions, but you couldn’t be happier; to see him.

Him— he looks oddly handsome. In his hero costume, he’s shooting explosions from his palms, simultaneously yelling at people to run, but you can’t, couldn’t, your legs are glued to the ground, fucking stuck.

“Dumbass hide!” And you can only assume ‘dumbass’ to be you, as there is only you on the street.

So as much as you don’t want to, you run as quickly as your legs would allow you to hide behind an alleyway, you hear sirens coming from afar, the police are here, he wouldn’t need to face the stupid fuck face lowly shit villain alone anymore.

Never mind, ducking your head to peek at the fight is the stupidest decision you’ve made so far, as your face becomes the big red target of both a water blast and an explosion, your head shoots backwards and it bashes into the concrete wall, you grow dizzy, your line of vision is slipping, or are you the one slipping? You couldn’t tell. At least I got to see him once. His eyes grow wide.

Fuck you and you villains, you stupid fuck face.

He quickly finishes the fight, letting the police handle the rest (mostly damage control) as he is hurrying to you, the paramedics couldn’t see you, so there is only him.

He knows where you live, from the times you head upstairs. He tells you that’s he’s leaving, but in reality, he flies to the rooftop next door, and for the first half an hour of his night patrols, he listens to your dragging footsteps up the staircase, to the tired door click, to your record player, to you singing along, to the sounds of you washing his glass, to the sounds of your muffled singing in the shower, while he finishes the muffin you gave him. And at around one o’clock, he’ll go home, when his limbs become laden with a satisfying exhaustion, when he knows you’re safely tucked in bed, dreaming, maybe of him, hopefully him.

Now, as you’re slung over his shoulder with his hand on your calves making sure you don’t fall off, he searches for the tote bag he knows you have, dirty on the side of the road, no doubt it got stepped on as people were evacuating. He picks it up with his other hand, trying to search for the key in it, and he walks to your apartment door.

ᝰ

Your head is pounding, that’s for sure. You also hear the sound of your record player playing, the lights from your living room almost blinding you. Woah, sensory overload.

“Good, you’re finally awake, dumbass.” That’s the first thing you hear, great. “I need to change the bandages around your head, they’re already fucking bleeding through, it’s barely been two hours, fucking Christ.” He cursed how many times? While you’re still trying to register everything around you.

Why is he in your apartment? Why do you have bandages around your— Oh. Right.

“Sit u, woman! I don’t have all day!”

That is a lie, he does have all day, in fact he could stay here all week if he wanted to, if you wanted him to.

So you do, you sit up, and immediately your center of gravity is somehow all down at your back and you’re falling again, not as bad as last time certainly, your house doesn’t have a concrete alleyway nor does it have a villain whose superpower is blasting water that is fighting with the number two hero—

But your head almost hits the armrest on your couch, though it doesn’t, because his hand is placed on your upper back to stop that.

“Be a bit more careful, will you? You already have a mild concussion.” He growled before rolling his eyes, without real malice behind it, but he doesn’t know if you know that.

Your hand grasps his shirt, then onto the back of the couch. Since you have your eyes closed — it’s still taking you a bit to get used to the strong lights, your head is already tight as shit — and thank God you have your eyes closed, because the tips of his ears are so fucking red. You basically just unintentionally face-planted into his chest (with your eyes closed), what the fuck.

He unwraps the tight bandages on your head and replaces them with new ones, trying to calm himself down. (“Can you make them looser please? I’ll have a severe concussion and not just a mild one if you don’t.” you ask, very politely too, which he responds to with: “Fuck’s sakes woman they’re supposed to be tight so it’ll stop the bleeding.”)

He orders you to sleep (“You need a lot of rest and drink a lot of water, eat more things that contain iron since you lost a lot of blood.” “Sure doc.” “Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you.” “Sure doc.” And he hears you laugh the second time, so he lets you go) He screams at you to sleep once more, so you request him to support you and offer balance while you walk to the bed. And as he leaves, “Come back tomorrow.”

So he does.

ᝰ

You wake up to the sounds of knocking, you didn’t close the curtains last night, which is fine since right now it wakes you up more to greet the door. Right before you do that though, you do try and fix your bed hair a bit more, and splash some cold water on your face to wake your swollen face up, maybe you would do something else too but his knocks (bangs) are gonna break the door soon so you open it first.

“Go back to sleep.”

“You woke me up.”

“Jesus okay! Suit yourself, fuck’s sakes.”

You wobble to the bathroom, as you shut the door you hear the clicks of the gas stove being turned on. At least he’s cooking breakfast for you when he so rudely woke you up from your slumber.

“They’re doing damage control right now, since your cafe is included in the area, they’ll fix it, and pay for it as well so you don’t have to spend a penny, they’re gonna buy you all the books too; you have to close the shop anyway, even if it weren’t damaged,” he stops you when he sees your eye twinkle. “you’re fucking damaged so don’t even think about it until you’re completely healed.”

“Rude.”

After that, you guys don’t talk for the rest of breakfast. Basic eggs and bacon and some leftover days old muffins from the cafe that you took home: a western breakfast.

He does the dishes too, guess it makes up for the times you did his. (“IT’S ONE SINGLE GLASS HOW FUCKING HARD CAN IT BE! LOOK AT THIS! TWO PLATES, FOUR UTENSILS AND A FRYING PAN-“ “Yes okay, okay you’re giving me brain damage again.” “SHUT UP YOU-“)

He doesn’t leave, even after the dishes are done, he joins you on the couch, you’re reading, and he turns on the news next to you. You can feel his smirk as he listens to the report talk about him, saving your day.

ᝰ

sunday

Sorry, I got attacked by a villain yesterday, haha, I was saved by him though, so it’s okay. He cooked me breakfast, I guess that was to make up for waking me up at seven in the morning by banging on my door until the hinges were about to fall off.

Today’s fine, he’s here after all.

ᝰ

A bump has formed on the inner side of your middle finger from holding the same ballpoint pen for a few hours every day, the resting foam on the pen has thinned into a layer that you could barely call a layer. It’s still a very pretty pen so you keep it anyway.

ᝰ

As days go on, things start to return to normal, you go back to taking care of the cafe, and as an apology his agency sent you a fair share of money to make up for the income you would have gotten in the week of repairing. However, there’s one thing that didn’t go back to its state prior to the attack: Bakugou.

Katsuki, you mean. He’s been making you call him by his first name since the day you got home from getting groceries, and you were looking for him, so you were shouting his name around the house, before you could finish the third shout though, he cut you off and told you to call him Katsuki. For whatever reason, not that you care.

When the day starts, hours before patrol, he goes to the cafe and helps you set up everything, he only stays in the back though, his reason being he doesn’t want stalkers seeing him there, nor the press, he doesn’t want to end up on the front page from rumours again.

Two hours before patrol, you cook him a meal, and not just muffins and cupcakes, you cook him something filled with all the nutrients he’ll need for the day of fighting bad guys (he whacked you over the head for that one) curry with rice, spaghetti with meatballs, depends on the day and also the leftover groceries from the dinner of previous nights; he sits at the place behind the counter that’s covered by the largest menu, so he could eat without people staring at him.

Correction: he could eat with nobody but you staring at him.

And during patrol, he tries his best to not let you infiltrate his mind: your smile, your laugh, your voice, your scent, (it’s actually just the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip muffins, when it’s still warm, its best state he often claims) the creases next to your eyes when you grin—

He’s getting carried away, again.

After patrol, he hurries the shower that he’s been taking since the first day he became a pro hero at the agency and hurries even more to Espresso Express. He helps you do the dishes, he helps you clean up; and when the cafe closes (which means when the curtains are down) he leaves the back room like some animal that just finished hibernating in the winter (he also whacked you over the head for that one) and he lifts the chairs, flips them onto the tables, so you can vacuum the floor.

Then the day is over. You invite him up for dinner, which he declines, then you insist, then he declines, then you insist, then he declines— Never mind he’s too tired to argue, is what he tells himself when he finally agrees.

He cooks you dinner. Romantic, right? Wrong. He shouts at you to turn down the volume of the music played by your record player so he can hear when the oven is done. He shouts at you to get the heatproof mat ready because he’s already carrying the burning pot to the table and it’s really burning his fingers but you were still laughing at the show you were watching.

He just looks at you, and sometimes when you do notice, you cock your head to the side and he’s cursing you in his head to stop being this fucking cute because he’s already blonde and the pink blush will show up extra overtly and he does not want you to see that.

You ask him ‘What?’ even when the pause of silence is barely noticeable to the third person, but with that, he knows you’re listening, you don’t just block out and ignore the name calling like the rest (most) of the world does, but—

Never mind, no buts. He’s thankful. That’s it. Just really fucking thankful.

For you, maybe.

ᝰ

“Good morning sir, what could I help you with today?” You smile knowingly, knowing that it’s him. “You know what.” He grunted out, hey at least he got you to smile.

“Coming right up!” As you whisk away to the back to make his au lait, no longer black coffees because you claim that those are what makes him so grumpy all the time, and you swear you see the difference, he certainly doesn’t.

ᝰ

“Hey— oh what the fuck.” Kirishima stands at the door frozen, he had just rung up Bakugou, wanting to hang out since they’ve both been so busy cause of the increase in crime (the Pro Hero Association has collected enough data to know that crime rates go up in December because prisoners break out the most in the snow, as they believe it is harder to be seen and caught).

When Bakugou sent him the new address which he didn’t recognise, he just thought his best friend got another house that would be closer to his agency and his patrol route, but when he’s met by a girl that certainly doesn’t look like Bakugou after he rings the bell, he thinks he has gotten the wrong address, maybe this is his neighbour, his cute neighbour.

“I sent Katsuki down to get groceries, he’ll probably be back in a few, please come in and wait for him if you’d like.”

Damn they’re on first name basis? Bakugou and a cute girl are on first name basis—

“Yeah sure thing! Thank you—” Before he can even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out his phone to text Kaminari.

SHITTY HAIR: BAKUSQUAD GUYS GUESS WHAT

DUNCEFACE: did bakubro blow up something again

RACCOON EYES: denki got bitches?

SHITTY HAIR: NO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE GUESSED BROS HE’S ON FIRST NAME BASIS WITH A CUTE GIRL

SHITTY HAIR: SHE EVEN SAID SHE SENT HIM DOWN TO GET GROCERIES SO MANLY

FLAT FACE: he’s whipped.

Yes. Yes he is.

ᝰ

Katsuki’s brow is twitching, actually his entire face is twitching, because why the fuck is Dunce Face standing outside your door along with Shitty hair asking you a bunch of questions that all involve his name!

He’s sitting so stiffly at the kitchen island that you’re afraid his back will snap. Red Riot, or Eijiro Kirishima as he insists, and Chargebolt, ’My name’s Denki but you can call me yours anytime— BAKUBRO!’ are talking about you like you’re not there. Which is kind of funny, seeing Katsuki’s reaction.

You prepare tea for the four of you, which manages to calm him down a bit, and after a trip to the bathroom, you come out to the three of them having a very enthusiastic chat. Denki pointing fingers at Bakugou, which he seems like he might just snap them off, and Kirishima trying to stop Bakugou from actually cutting them off.

The day rushes away when you’re happy. And soon, it was already night time, ten o’clock night time. As you two bid them goodbye, you can still see the faint dusting of a flush on his face. Is he embarrassed of you?

“Uh.. sorry about that.” You apologise, trying to see where to step and where to not on this field filled with anger landmines.

“What?” It’s almost like a magic trick to you, to see his face soften before you can even blink, compared to his usual frown, and the extra frown he had on before they left.

“I didn’t clean up the house properly since I didn’t know there’d be guests.. I only figured out they’re your friends since they are Red Riot and Chargebolt after all. So, uh, sorry about the messy place, you must be embarrassed-“ You’re in the middle of talking and he cuts you off.

“What?” He repeats, but you know he heard you fine both times.

“I, uh,” He looks cute scratching his neck like that.

“No, uh, the house is fine, I’m not embarrassed, why would I be? It’s fine, I should be apologising for not telling you earlier that somebody would be coming over. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He tries his best to not look like an injured animal and to actually look like he’s smiling when he turns his back, fuck, his blush is back again (stronger too). He’ll blame the way your eyes widen, pink covers your cheeks as it does to his, because how can anyone not blush at that? He’ll blame how cute you look, his heart pumping, faster, and faster, and faster and faster—

Fucking traitor.

After he turns the corner at the staircase, you slam the door shut. Like slam slam. He can’t help but let out a small chuckle at the way you reacted. It’s good to know he has the same effect you have on him, do you know you have this effect on him? Probably not, you’re a dumbass.

(His dumbass.)

After the door is shut, you get up immediately and scramble to find your journal because you absolutely do not trust your voice right now. Not that you’ll tell the friends you met online anyway.

12/12

Help help help help help help help help help help help-

Okay you get it. You think. Nevermind. Wait. Fuck. You think you might just be doing the one thing you said you won’t.

13/12

Okay yeah you definitely do.

And quite frankly (ironically too) you don’t know what to do about it. He’s so pretty, he’s so, so, so, pretty. Sometimes you think you’re looking at some kind of Greek God when you see him. Then yoi register that, oh, he is one. Or I guess more specifically: King Murder Explosion God Dynamight.

Or something along those lines, but at times you really can’t understand how can someone be this perfect? You hope it’s just a crush, it probably is. He’s leaving soon anyway. Some, transfer? Few years away should be more than enough for you to get over him.

ᝰ

Maybe he should do this diary bullshit too.

ᝰ

Why is this so awkward?

He’s scratching the back of his neck again, he does that when he doesn’t know how to communicate in words, you’ve noticed.

“I’ll—“ You gulp. You don’t know. “—have food ready when you get back. Please shower first though, I don’t want this place to smell like sweat.”

He smiles. He doesn’t try to hide it, for the first time. “Yeah, don’t worry about—“

“Don’t hurt yourself.” You’re not looking at him, too scared, too afraid. And he smiles again, you don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of that sight.

“Okay enough of that shitty stuff, let’s eat I’m hungry as fuck.” He whisks you away to the kitchen, and this time you’re the one who cooks, but not really, you’re too busy worrying.

Tonight, you two sleep on the same bed, for the first time, but when you wake up, you don’t see him. You know why, he’s been telling you for a week, but you’re gonna get up, get out of bed, and go around the house calling for him.

“Katsuki?” Not in the kitchen. “Katsuki?” Not the living room either. “Katsuki?” You give up finally after ten minutes, calling out to no one, and no one answered.

ᝰ

monday

He left today.

ᝰ

When you get back to your bed again, you notice the notebook that has been lying on your bed for a couple of hours.

So you read.

ᝰ

saturday

I saved you today.

And I also read your diary yesterday. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t stop reading though. Please.

sunday

I like you. I think. Nah. Never mind. I know I like you. It’s a surprise and only a matter of time that you haven’t figured out and when you do. With the times I’ve blushed while looking at you, it’s also a surprise that you’ve only caught me staring at you once or twice.

monday

How can somebody fall this fast? And how can you make somebody fall this fast? Being a pro hero doesn’t stop me from falling, fortunately. I like you. Yeah.

Yeah I do. That should be fine right?

You’re so kind that you won’t blame me for falling for you right? But hey, if you really need to blame somebody, blame yourself for being this perfect for me.

tuesday

I still like you. That hasn’t changed one bit. Or it has, this fucking thing in my heart is only growing and growing and sometimes I worry it’ll make me explode. Ironic.

This ‘diary’ is becoming a record of my feelings for you, which isn’t good. Since I am planning to give this to you before leaving.

wednesday

The au laits you make are the best. Better than black coffees, I don’t know how, but you make them just right, they always taste a bit fucked when I try them at other cafes, but never here, or maybe that’s just you. Probably, but I’m fine with that.

I think you know that your chocolate chip muffins are my favourite. I don’t believe you when you say there’s always one, literally only one every day, muffin left, and that you’re full, (even when you always down two bowls of rice every time I cook) so that I should eat the remaining muffin. Do you always just save a muffin for me? Or am I lying to myself? The lie tastes too sweet to care anyway. I’ll never get tired of chocolate chip muffins.

Correction: I’ll never get tired of your chocolate chip muffins.

thursday

I’m leaving soon, you know that. I know that you pretend you don’t. Whenever I look like I have something to talk to you about, you distract yourself. We already have three cartons of unsweetened milk at home, we don’t need more, princess.

friday

I love you. You should know by now. If you don’t, either I’ve done something terribly wrong, or you’re dense as a brick. My sometimes dense, but smart for most of the time; pretty, but hot for most of the time, girl. My smart and pretty girl. I hope you like that, yeah?

saturday

Marriage always turned me off. I thought it’d make me sound old if I said that I was someone’s husband, but I wouldn’t really mind sounding old if I were yours though.

When I get back, I’ll marry you. I hope you say yes.

sunday

Let’s go on a date. I’ll buy you tickets to the concert of the singer you love. Let’s go. I don’t know any of her songs but-

Never mind, that’s a lie, I know all of them by heart, cause when you’re singing them how can I not?

monday

Absence makes the heart grow fonder; Remember that. At least remember it until I come back and take you as my wife.

Let’s sound old together yeah?

tuesday

You look so pretty all the time. You’re fucking adorable. I don’t think you realise just how much power you hold over me. Tell me to die and I will. For you. I hope you don’t though, I can’t marry you when I’m dead.

wednesday

How do you do this shit for so long? Everytime I put my pen down and write, I write about you, that doesn’t do me any good when the only thing it does is deepen my love for you.

thursday

I love you. I love you so fucking much. I don’t think you get it. I love you so much that it scares me. How much love can a person feel before they explode?

friday

You really can be everything, a chef, a cafe owner, a woman, a goddess, hopefully you can be my lover too.

saturday

I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know.

sunday

I know what I didn’t know yesterday. I just don’t know how to tell you. You shine brighter than the stars. That’s what. You’re the brightest, most radiant thing in the universe. So when you’re out of my sight, it’s so fucking cold.

I hate winter, you know that, I’ve forced you to listen to me go on about how much I hate it a fucking ton, but this December, somehow winter is warmer than summer. And I don’t think it’s climate change. You’re so warm. You’re the warm one. You’re the warmest person I know, and you know what, love? I didn’t meet you last summer, but I should have phrased it nicely enough for you to know that winter is warm here because you’re beside me. It’s a shame that I have to leave at new years. Otherwise, I might have told you I loved you- Never mind, I would have proposed to you beneath the fireworks, I want you to see me and me only. No matter how loud the fireworks cracklings are, you’ll hear my voice only. Am I too selfish for that? Would you do it if I told you to only give me your attention because right fucking now, I’m a lovesick puppy? For the first time in my life, I don’t want to be a hero, then I won’t need to move there along with the agency, then I’ll be able to stay by your side.

Trust me, doll, I really don’t want to transfer there, but I’m the logo of the agency, and the association higher-ups already had a meeting and voted. And I’m not ready to give up yet. Forgive me. Please. Trust me that when I say I don’t want to go anywhere unless you’re there, it’s true.

Yet I still think we both have some time before it’s harvesting season. I’ll come see you, a few years later, or a decade later. I’ll come and see you when I’m ready to settle down and give you everything that you deserve. I’ll work hard, I’ll fight to stay alive so I can come home to you. I’ll come back, and tell you that I love you, and I’ll ask you to be my wife. Wait for me okay?

People only learn to cherish people when they’re gone, I only knew how much I needed to say I love you to my mom but didn’t until she’s gone. And I don’t want to lose you to finally know how to love you out loud.

Love me. Is that okay? I want you to love me half as much as I love you. I love you, so fucking much. If you still don’t know that, I’ve done something terribly wrong.

I’ll ask something from you, and I will never again:

Wait for me. I’m selfish enough to not care about the fact that I’m being selfish, wait for me, I’ll come back, that I can promise. Please, I know I’m an asshole whose pride always gets in the way of my relationships, but I can’t risk letting you get away, not now, not ever.

Hold your breath until I’m back, and there, and with you; then, I’ll never let you go.

Will you do that for me, my pretty girl?

ᝰ

ᝰ

katsuki:

you’re the leaves below brushed autumn wind, meek with kisses, fresh with love. you’re like the clouds that shift across the blue, blue sky, the beaver moon lighting my way. i’ll walk miles of mountains, cross bridges of rivers to see you again, my love. let me write letters full of my dreams, i’ll let doves deliver them your way. for however long it may take, can i be the person you’re missing at three, darling?

ᝰ

thursday. 26th january 2168

You swore that when you catch feelings, you wouldn’t tell anyone, but now, you just want him to be here so that you can tell him.

Maybe the stars will listen if you pray, though.

ᝰ

Goodbyes are really fucking difficult. That’s a no-brainer but sometimes you just don’t understand the significance of something until you actually go through it yourself.

Are you a loser for being hung over some guy that never even confessed to you in real life? For a guy who probably saw you as a fling, not even a fling, you two were never an item. You missed him.

Correction: you’ve been missing him.

You feel like a dumbass that you’re still keeping a promise, one which he’s probably forgotten already. You feel like a dumbass for breaking down in your bed during the nights where you jolt awake from the dreams of him, they’re always so realistic, your heart breaks time and time and time again at the sight of him; you never took a picture with him. He left you at the darkest hour of the night before you could.

You feel so fucking shitty that you’re still not over him. Wait for him, he says in his diary, he promised you all those promises, but they’re overdue, long fucking overdue. Yet, you’re you, and you stuck to his promise, you waited, and you’re still waiting. You stuck to yours as well, and you never told a soul.

You’re fucking stuck, that’s what you are. Fucking stuck. You’ve been here in this fucking shithole for ten years. Ten, fucking, years, wasted away, decaying and rusting and rotting into nothing more than just a corner cafe that people came and got their quiet and left without any hesitance.

And him, he is out there, somewhere, he’s shining, he’s being bright, and he’s being radiant. Why couldn’t you?

You feel tears welling up in your eyes again, God just stop your pathetic crying.

Would he scream at you if he saw you like this? If he saw you crying over him, would he tell you to shut the fuck up, and that he’s just a boy? Would he apologise and hug you, and offer you the warmth you haven’t known in a decade?

You fucking miss him. And you’ve grown to love him, and God Forbid you wanted to curse him out for making you remember ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ because now it’s branded at the back of your brain and you just can’t forget.

Your coping mechanism is ironically close to his, though. You’ve been throwing yourself into work, more and more after days and days. Your closing time which used to be 8 o’clock, got pushed to 8:30 pm, then 9:00 pm. And now, you work until it’s midnight, offering solace like how the moon does, to the ones drowning in their own memories, to the ones that are bored of the same old life. Never moving, just, there. Stuck. Like you.

What the fuck is wrong with him? You did everything he told you to, you followed the instructions, you played by the rules, where is your prize? Where the fuck is it?

The winds that are whistling outside suddenly become all too clear as the door is pushed open, the heavy thumping of shoes against the freezing floor.

“Sorry, but we’re no longer open—“

Are you dreaming?

“Hey,” Before you can even say anything, he’s right in front of you already. His face inches away from yours, and then it’s like the ever-growing distance between the two of you before has never existed.

“Are you.. you?” You’re positive that you’re dreaming. You’re so scared, too, because you’ve had way too many hallucinations to not believe that this isn’t one of them. What if your broken voice chases away this delusion?

“Katsuki?” He lifts your head with his two calloused fingers, slowly caressing your strawberry-tinted cheeks, are they the same as the ones he’s been dreaming of since the day he’s left? “I’m here, darling, I’m here. I’m here with you.”

ᝰ

With Katsuki Bakugou, there are first glances; getting caught staring at his side profile that was just unruly handsome because which god shaped it again?

Then there are second dates; less fidgeting taps beneath the table, less of a blush that could literally settle on any cheeks in that cafe yet they always decide to take home on yours, and what could you do about it except to cover your face for a few moments with your already cold mocha?

Third kisses are the best; awkwardness put aside, tentativeness chased away, they’re familiar in their own comfort;

Your forehead that once upon a time used to foster creases whenever the memory of him leaving pops up again, would be littered with kisses all over by him, his words of comfort ringing beside your ears instead of your own crying as you begged for him to just come back, memories of that heart-felt abandonment long forgotten;

Your nose that used to stifle for hours on end at the nights where the over-analysing of his actions finally got to you, because just why couldn’t he stay? It would be dusted with the tingly feeling for the rest of the day because he presses his lips against it in the bright, and early morning after he wakes up.

Your lips are the favourite part you like getting kisses at; when the plushness of his lips envelops yours, his breath slowly mixes with yours and you can no longer tell the difference between his body and yours. You’re drowning and drowning and drowning but it just feels so good, so it’s okay.

You decide that it is indeed worth it to go through all the late nights of staying up late, worrying that because you aren’t enough, he left, and what if you’ll never be enough to hold onto him? Because now you are, and you know that, after the countless times he’s made it clear, (“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I FUCKING TOLD YOU? YOU’RE MORE THAN ENOUGH FOR ME DUMBASS!”) you know you are enough, you always will be. It is a golden deal that despite the emotional turmoil you put yourself through, he’s yours now, your safe haven to lose yourself into, for now and ever later.

So yes, it is okay, because he’s yours just as much as you are his; and may Mercy be with whomever that is willing to fiddle with your peace because Bakugou Katsuki would side with the devil before you get hurt; he’ll make sinners go through hell on earth because even the Gods couldn’t touch you.

[sofilsword]

obsessed - k! bakugo

masterlist

synopsis - despite knowing you've successfully bagged katsuki bakugou, aka pro hero dynamight, his fans are still shipping him with his ex. so what's a better way to claim him than leaving little trails of your love on him? specifically, his body.

status - ongoing

taglist - open

intro (chapter 1)

HOW TO GET BACK AT HER - to do list

make sure katsuki leaves the house in a questionable state

2. hire someone to 'leak' crude pictures of the two of you on holiday

3. go on an interview show together

4. flaunt your proposal in her face.

5. recreate a moment from their relationship, and i mean the same place, similar outfit and same pose.

6. heated and messy livestream on Instagram

7. do tiktok trend ft obsessed by olivia as the sound

8. even messier podcast

9. soft launch the wedding, in a colour that she claims is hers.

© 2025 wonubby— All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[sofilsword]

— 𝐈𝐍𝐊 & 𝐑𝐇𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐌 | 𝐕𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊: 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐄 (𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆)

A glimpse into the past, memories of a ghost that keep you up in the middle of the night and stalk you wherever you go.

✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. additional backstory w/ reader & toya's relationship before the breakup, aka a peek at the poisoned well of their love. tw: emotional abuse & hints at past physical altercations, intoxication, name calling (toya is not nice to reader), threats of violence.

✩ 𝐰𝐜: 800 words

✩ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. I wanna give reader a hug. :(( sorry to all the toya lovers...he's a jackass here and it's only the beginning.

『 ink & rhythm masterlist ⨯ crossposted to ao3 』

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍...

Nights like these made everything seem okay — normal, almost. The sunset off in the distance, the sounds of the city mixed with soft music flowing in the air, a paint brush in your hand and no distractions. Toya left to go buy cigarettes three hours ago. You weren't complaining, though. A few hours without a fight or him degrading you over something as petty as the shades of paint you chose was a blessing in goddamn disguise.

But unfortunately, all blessings have the chance to morph into curses.

The apartment door slams shut, the echo of Toya's heavy boots able to be heard from the cracked patio door. The brush in your hand begins to tremble, your body's instinctual reaction anytime he's nearby.

"The hell is this shit?" Toya curses, rolling his eyes as he examines the canvas, stumbling out on to the balcony. His icy stare is encased in a rosy haze. "S'the reason why you didn't even fuckin' text me?"

Fuck, he's wasted judging by the slight slur of his words. On what? Who the hell knows, three hours is a large enough window for him to have visited his dealer and hit the bar on the way back. Cautiously, you sit up straight in your chair, taking in the quietest breath you can manage. The smaller you can make yourself, the less damage he'll potentially do. "I didn't see a text—"

Without warning, he grabs the canvas with rough hands, his foot stomping through it with ease. Paint globules fly in every direction, covering his boot in an array of blues and purples to match the splatters on the faux wood of the balcony. "Spare me the introspection, doll." He takes the pieces of the canvas and shoves them in your direction, a wave of color staining your clothes and skin. The color blue used to bring a sense of calm to your bruised heart — reminders of the sounds of the ocean, the sight of a luminous sky — but now? It's nothing but pain. Whoever came up with the association of serenity and loyalty to the color blue is fucking idiot.

You can't help the snarl on your face, the anger churning in your chest too strong to mask before he notices. Toya shoots you a warning glare, those ice-cold irises piercing through your fragile armor, daring you to cop an attitude with him. "Don't gimmie that face, bitch. Clean this shit up and get the fuck inside."

"No."

No? Uh oh.

"No?" Toya repeats venomously, his gaze darkening as his own anger flares. He lets out a scoff, knowing you don't have the guts to stand up to him. "Y'wanna repeat that?"

You stay silent, focusing on one of the paint stains on the deck and breathe. Don't let him see you.

Your hands grip the shredded canvas in your lap, head down and gripping it to ground yourself. Toya lets out a cynical laugh, hiccupping at the end of it. "S'what I thought." He turns on his dirtied heel, slamming the patio door shut so roughly it bounces back on the track, leaving it slightly open.

The balcony remains stained with paint for the night, unable to properly clean it until it dries fully. The canvas is in the trash, your clothes soaking in the tub and creative spirit shattered for the millionth time. Just when you thought the worst was over, Toya directs his tirade at you in the bathroom, beginning to berate you for making a mess.

"You're always makin' a fucking mess," he snarls in the doorway with his arms crossed tight over his chest. "You're never gonna be shit. That degree means nothin' if you don't have the talent to back it up."

"Toya," you grumble, shutting the water off at the sink and gripping the porcelain edge in frustration. "Please, enough."

He bristles, the energy in the room shifting into that all too familiar feeling of imminent danger. He glances down at your wrists, seeing the faded purples and greens blooming under your skin hidden, hidden vaguely by the paint stains, and smiles.

You know that devilish smile, and know what it means. It makes your stomach churn violently.

"Sorry, baby," Toya coos, his whole demeanor devolving into fake lovesickness that he's gotten all too perfect at projecting. That brief inkling of love kept you afloat, no matter how insincere it may seem. He's your protector and greatest enemy rolled into one, and some nights, you wish you didn't need either version of him. But, you stay, desperately shackled to him.

Why?

It's the only form of love you've ever known. At this rate, it may be the only one you will ever know. He's got his hooks in you, and there is no way in hell you're escaping his twisted wonderland anytime soon.

✩ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝. we're moving into the story next! I wanted to explore a little bit of the past with toya before jumping right into the aftermath of it all.

『 © 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐈 — please do not modify, translate, repost or use any of my content for AI training purposes. 』

✩ 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @bells-28 @simp-plague @nemisimp @hotttamalee @mymysenpai @ttulipwritezz @bakunianadecorazon @yoyolovesdaiki @eeeeeevesstuff @alloueate @dollukisposts @Rikakhai @blazedbakugou @lillizxzz @shibataimu @autumnstuffs @naioree @runrabbitrun3 @kirishimaeijiromyman @strwbrrykthv @hayatoseyepatch @awkwardchick87 @unriding @darhinadadragon @pastelle-rabbit @cutiepatoodie @kalulakunundrum @fulltragedytheroist @moonlightwriter @slayfics @maddietries @starsdesiresz @liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @napbatata @catsoupki @purplescorpi0 @www-marianette-org @obsessedpersona @m0nnypie @d1orhaz3 @thefirst-ofus @elleoelliot @katsucookies @katsuslover @rienin @jlynns-posts @amayaaaxx @Sukunabish @OzDramaQueen @uekarashi @queen-of-the-grapefruits @moochiwoochi @therefore-evermore @heartsforkatsuki @zennypiee

[sofilsword]

boyfriend texts.

⊹ synopsis. texts with your boyfriend katsuki!

⊹ content warnings. suggestive humor, fluff, angry/aggressive boyfriend, smau

⊹ pairing. katsuki bakugo x reader

⊹ side note. my dog is in a cone and she keeps bumping into people and objects and it's so fun and so sad at the same time

Taglist - @justmylvr @lwcedribbons @im0nsaturn @dvartefox @failurewater @f0reverfaded @t0asty1 @iv-vee @mp3nai @straows @grenadehearts @hecate-frenchfries @imagine-all-the-imagines

ⓒ luvseraph 5/15/25

[sofilsword]

i think about you in the 80th hour | k. bakugou x reader | on ao3

ABOUT: Katsuki is a constant that drops in and out of your life at a moment’s notice, when he’s a teenager thinking about you in his bed, and when he’s an adult bringing you a thermos in a cold and lonely hospital room; a fight leaves you battered at the mercy of Death and Katsuki’s floodgates, the emptiness within you doesn’t settle when he leaves you behind and out of his life, but you want to teach him what it really means to love.

TAGS: pro hero au, fem reader, banter, hurt/comfort, canon-typical injuries, eventual smut !

LENGTH: est. 18k, STATUS: completed

CHP 1: inebriation quenches the thirst

CHP 2: what happens in the alpine, stays in the alpine

CHP 3: realisation is bittersweet (when he wants you)

CHP 4: what reconciliation really means << NSFW >>

CHP 5: you’ll fall in love on your own pace (with my little things)

[sofilsword]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | mha au

a.n; hi. hello. this is me bringing a mix of HTTYD x MHA x Vikings lil thingy cuz I NEEDED a etl in this world 😌🤟🏻 sorry if you find mistakes, I wrote it a hurry at work lol

The sky above the island is surrounded by a sudden swirling storm of wind and fire as Varynxar descends in a blaze of red-orange light. His wings cut through the mist like blades, his dark scales still glowing with heat in the late afternoon sun. The villagers all step back when he lands hard, sending a tremor through the earth. He is the kind of dragon you don't approach unless you have a death wish. Or… nah, you definitely have a death wish. Or you're simply the master.

Bakugou Katsuki, said master of that mighty beast, leaps down from the saddle with practiced ease, dragging his glove across Varynxar’s snout with a grunt of approval. 

He still tches in annoyance at the weak litter of rookies he had to train with. “That was too damn easy. These rookies aren’t even worth my time.”

“Maybe because you scared the poor new recruits half to death,” comes the voice he least desires to hear at the moment. It's melodic, beautiful even, and enchanted whisper that could make any man burn towns if she so asked for. However, he would rather describe it as a dagger wrapped in velvet.

May her enchanting voice never cloud the sharpness of her words. That's a lesson learned in first person by Bakugou.

He turns at her, jaw already clenching.

Y/N sits confidently atop Varynthael, who is circling overhead like a large cloud ready to drop its beautiful, yet unforgiving, storm upon them. With a low screech, the dragon tucks her wings and drops, landing beside Varynxar in a bright shimmer of silver and white. The two dragons greet each other with a rumbling growl, snots brushing, tails curling together like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Bakugou groans in annoyance. His dragon is a traitor.

Y/N slides off her dragon, patting Varynthael affectionately before spinning toward Bakugou with a smirk. “You really should warn people before you show up; not everyone’s heart can handle that much rage concentrated in one face.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ funny. I was gonna say the same thing about your stupid voice. Loud and irritating as hell.”

“Oh, please… You talk like you are allergic to not yelling.”

“It’s called projecting dominance, dumbass. Not that you’d know anything about that, all you do is flap your mouth and hope someone listens.”

“Maybe if you ever listened instead of screaming your lungs out, your dragon wouldn’t have to do all the heavy lifting in your personality.”

Varynxar growls lowly at that, nostrils flaring. Bakugou throws a hand up in his direction, “Yeah, yeah, you’re the best. Whatever.”

Y/N snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “At least my dragon’s not a walking tantrum with wings.”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Varynthael tried to eat the blacksmith last week.”

“She only sniffed him.”

“She singed his pants off!”

Y/N giggles, smirk plastered in her face at the memory. “He looked better without them.”

Bakugou blinks, jaw halfway open before snapping shut again, eyes narrowing. “You’re seriously messed up.”

“And yet,” she says sweetly, “your dragon is madly in love with mine. So I guess that makes you my in-law...”

She wiggles her eyebrows up and down, and Bakugou recoils, like she has just thrown a pile of yak dung at his face. “Take. That. Back.”

“Make me.”

The dragons, completely ignoring the tension, are already cuddled together in a pile of wings, purring and nuzzling like they are about to start another mating flight. A warm puff of smoke rolls past the riders’ boots, and Varynthael lets out a dreamy coo.

Bakugou stares at them, then at Y/N, who looks way too smug for his liking. “I hate this. I hate you. I hate that your lizard picked my lizard, like this is some sappy dragon romance story.”

Y/N laughs, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Aww, come on, Bakugou. Maybe they are just trying to teach us a lesson.”

He frowns, already annoyed about where this conversation is going. “Like what?”

She steps closer, grinning up at him. “That opposites attract.” And she winks at him.

Bakugou takes a deep breath in before speaking again. “I swear to fuckin’ Thor,” he mutters, his voice low, pointing a finger in her face, “if you don’t shut that sarcastic little mouth, I will launch you into the bay.”

Y/N leans in. “You would miss. You always do when I’m involved.”

He opens his mouth ready to yell, probably a full of colorful vocabulary, but she is already turning on her heels and running towards her dragon.

“Race to the cliffs!” She calls over her shoulder. “Unless you’re too slow to handle a little friendly competition!”

He snorts, hating–and loving–her stupid personality that makes him want to spit fire himself. Within less than a second he's also running and mounting Varynxar with a fluid, furious motion.

“I’ll win, and then I’m making you scrub my saddle clean with your stupid attitude!”

Y/N shoots back a wink. Again. “Better hope you actually win this time, hothead.”

And with a pair of matching war cries from their dragons, they take to the skies, chasing each other through wind and storm, fire and lightning.

Their dragons are soulmates.

Their riders are still deciding if they want to kill each other–or kiss.

Guess who wins.

a.n; I WANTED TO USE THE "MAKE ME" QUOTE FOR A LONG TIME OKAY AND I JUST FOUND THE MOMENT TO DO SO. DON'T JUDGE ME.🙈

[sofilsword]

dicksuki.

synopsis: seeking out comfort from unofficialbf!katsuki and he says something mean and it's your final straw. + katsuki can't stand seeing you cry.

notes: i will be exclusively referring to mean katsuki as dicksuki from now on

it has been a long, long day. you're running on maybe 3 or 4 hours of sleep, you're on your period, you've been buried under homework, and you're 2 seconds away from a nervous breakdown. so, you did what any girl would do and sought comfort from katsuki. you’re curled into his chest, warm and tired, tucked under the covers in his dorm bed. it’s late. the room’s quiet. and he just kissed your forehead like he always does. casual, gentle, thoughtless in the way it’s become second nature.

“i love when you do that,” you whisper, voice barely above the hum of his fan.

he hums low in his chest. “do what?”

“kiss my forehead,” you say, already sounding half-asleep. “it feels like you really love me when you do.”

his heart skips. it stutters, even. but he doesn’t show it. instead, he scoffs, because that’s what he does. dumbass defense mechanism kicking in without permission.

“maybe i don’t,” he mutters, a teasing edge in his voice. “maybe i just do it to shut you up.”

he smirks. like he thinks he’s being funny. like it’s nothing.

and for a second, he thinks you laugh. or maybe you’re just shifting under the blanket.

but then he feels you go still. not the relaxed kind. not the sleepy kind.

the kind of still that makes his stomach twist.

he glances down, still smirking, until he sees your face.

you’re staring at nothing, eyes wide and watery, lashes clumped from blinking too fast. lips trembling like you’re trying so hard to hold it in but you’re already losing the battle.

and it hits him like a truck.

“wait.”

his smile drops instantly.

“wait. shit. baby.”

it wasn't exactly what he said. sure, it was kind of hurtful, but it was more the accumulation of all of your stressors and he happened to be the final straw. don't crash out over this. it's ok. you don’t say anything. you don't trust yourself. you don’t move, either, lest some tears fall out with the motion. your chest rises with a shaky breath you try to swallow.

his whole body tenses. “fuck, i didn’t mean that. hey, no, no, c’mere. look at me.”

he’s cupping your face before you can turn away, thumb brushing your cheek, voice suddenly so soft.

“i was just messin’ with you,” he says, frantic now. “i didn’t mean it. of course i love you. fuck, of course i do.”

you blink up at him, eyes glassy. you're so vulnerable and emotional right now. honestly, you'd been sort of insecure about loving katsuki more than he loves you lately, and he confirmed all of your worst fears. after all, you were technically 'just friends.' just because he hangs out with you doesn't mean he loves you. “but you said-”

“i know what i said,” he cuts in quickly, guilt written all over him. “and it was stupid, okay? i was bein’ a dick like always and i swear i didn’t mean it. not even a little.”

your lip wobbles and he practically whines, pulling you against him and hiding his face in your hair.

“god, don’t cry. please don't cry. i’ll do anything, i’ll kiss your forehead a hundred times, just.. don’t think i don’t love you. and also stop cryin'. it's killin' me. i love you, sweets.”

you sniff against his collarbone, voice muffled. “you do?”

he leans back just enough to kiss you. your forehead, your temple, your hair. kiss, kiss, kiss.

“so fuckin' much.”

masterlist