#nondescript winter holiday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deirdreei · 6 months ago

Text

December

Pairings: Aged up! Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

This is part 1, Part 2

Description: Katsuki needs a new mechanic, his current one seems to be riding up his nerves. Then he gets recommended you.

Note: This isn't proofread and mostly improvised.

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December 1st

The city was blanketed in soft, silent snow, the kind that fell thick and steady, turning every surface into a winter wonderland. The streets were lined with holiday decorations—bright lights twinkling on every corner, and faint holiday music drifting through the air from nearby stores. The crisp, cold air stung his face as Izuku Midoriya walked briskly down the street, his breath visible in the frosty morning air. He had always loved this time of year, the world feeling a little more magical as winter took over.

As he reached the nondescript building tucked away in a quieter part of town, he paused for a moment to adjust the scarf around his neck. It was the first of December, a month that had become a tradition for him—coming to see Y/n, his long-time friend, to check in and make sure everything was going smoothly with her work.

Opening the door with a gentle creak, Izuku stepped inside, and the familiar warmth of the room hit him. The small workshop was filled with the scent of machine oil and metal, the hum of a workbench in constant motion. The dim lighting gave the room a cozy glow, though it was obvious that Y/n had been working late into the night. Snow clung to the windows, and the soft winter light filtered in, casting a chill around the room.

On the floor, with her back to the door, Y/n was sprawled out in her usual work attire—a dark, grease-stained jumpsuit that hugged her frame, a mix of tools scattered around her. Her hair was messily pulled up into a bun, strands falling loose around her face as she worked with intense focus. She didn’t notice Izuku’s arrival. She was too busy, crouched over a complicated piece of hero gear, her hands moving deftly as she adjusted a malfunctioning component, her brow furrowed in concentration.

The floor around her was littered with parts—screws, wires, small metallic components—and yet Y/n appeared completely at ease, like this was the most natural environment for her. Her face was smeared with grease, a little messy, but it only seemed to highlight her unwavering dedication to her work. Izuku couldn’t help but smile softly, a quiet admiration filling his chest. He had known Y/n for years, and even now, seeing her like this, so immersed in her craft, still left him in awe.

She was always like this. Completely consumed by her genius mind, her ability to solve problems before they even fully manifested. Her eyes sparkled with innovation, and her ability to fix even the most complicated issues with hero gear was nothing short of extraordinary. It had been years since he first met her, and he could still remember how impressed he had been by her ability to notice every little detail, every weakness in design. She had a mind for this that was incomparable.

Izuku stood quietly by the door, watching her work, before clearing his throat softly to get her attention. "Y/n?" he called gently, not wanting to startle her.

Her head shot up, eyes widening in surprise. She wiped her hands on a nearby rag, then reached up to pull a stray hair from her face. “Izuku?” she asked, blinking as if she hadn’t fully processed his presence just yet. “You’re early. It’s not even the 5th yet.”

Izuku grinned sheepishly, stepping closer. "I know, I couldn’t wait. Besides, you never stop working, so I figured I'd just pop by."

Y/n smirked, rolling her eyes, but her lips twitched into a small smile. “Always in a hurry. Come on, get in here before the cold air freezes you into a popsicle.”

Izuku chuckled and took a few steps further into the room, letting the door shut behind him. As he moved toward the counter, he couldn’t help but glance back at her—always so immersed in her passion, always so... Y/n.

“Busy as usual, huh?” he asked, his voice warm with familiarity.

“Same as always,” she replied, already turning back to her work, though her tone was light. “Can’t afford to waste time when there’s always something that needs fixing.”

The snow outside continued to fall gently, the sounds of the holidays filtering in through the workshop windows. And while the world outside was preparing for the season of joy, in her little corner of it, Y/n was already deep into the heart of her December routine—working tirelessly to make sure every piece of hero gear, every design, was as perfect as it could be.

And Izuku, as he always had, would be there by her side.

Y/n’s voice pulled him back into the moment as she looked up at him with a faintly curious expression. She wiped her hands on a rag again before pushing herself up from the floor, her movements fluid despite the grease and dirt she’d accumulated. "How’s Aizawa?" she asked, her tone casual but with a glimmer of genuine concern.

Izuku blinked, caught off guard by the question. He had been so focused on seeing Y/n again that he hadn’t thought to ask about her projects or her thoughts on his mentor. The last time he’d seen Aizawa, he had been dealing with the usual burdens of his job, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Still, he appreciated the way she always remembered the smaller details. Y/n had met Aizawa only a handful of times, but their brief interactions had left an impression. And the time she’d spent working on his prosthetic leg was something Izuku would never forget.

“Oh, he’s doing well,” Izuku replied, pushing the original question from his mind as he thought back to the last time he saw his teacher. “He’s been tough as always, but the new leg is working great. He’s been able to move much more fluidly in combat—he says it’s helped him more than he expected. And you really made it fit his needs perfectly.”

Y/n smiled faintly at his praise. “I’m glad it’s working out for him,” she said, her gaze softening. “Aizawa’s the kind of guy who doesn’t ask for help unless he really needs it, and when he did, it was important to get the design right. The prosthetic had to support his weight and still allow him the mobility he needs—especially with the way he fights. It’s a fine balance.”

Izuku nodded, recalling the first time he’d introduced Y/n to Aizawa. The two had been skeptical at first, Aizawa with his usual guarded demeanor and Y/n with her pragmatic, no-nonsense attitude. But Y/n had quickly understood the complexity of Aizawa’s needs. She’d spent hours analyzing his movements, taking meticulous measurements, and fine-tuning the leg to ensure it wasn’t just functional but tailored to his fighting style. It had been one of her more challenging projects, but seeing the result in action—watching Aizawa move with more ease—had been incredibly rewarding.

“You were the only one who could do it,” Izuku added with a smile, grateful for the way Y/n always approached challenges. “Aizawa doesn’t trust just anyone with something like that. But with you, he didn’t hesitate.”

Y/n shrugged, as if it were nothing special, but the slight blush creeping onto her cheeks betrayed her. “I just did what I could. You know how I am when it comes to gear—it’s about precision, making sure it works in the most demanding situations. I’m glad he liked it.”

Izuku felt a quiet sense of pride in her work, not just as a friend but as someone who had witnessed her skill firsthand for so many years. He leaned against the workbench, arms crossed, smiling at her. "He actually said it’s helped him get a few extra moves in when things get heated during missions. You’ve really made a difference, Y/n."

She chuckled softly, the sound genuine but tempered with modesty. "Well, I’m just happy he’s able to use it the way he needs to. Aizawa doesn’t ask for much, so if something I made helps him, that’s enough for me.”

There was a pause, and Izuku took a breath, noticing that Y/n’s eyes were still focused on the tools scattered around the room, though her thoughts seemed far away. He knew she didn’t always share her emotions openly, but moments like these—where her quiet satisfaction in her work showed through—were when Izuku felt the deepest appreciation for her.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but paused, unsure if he should push his initial question. The subject of her projects always brought Y/n out of her shell, and for a moment, he just wanted to let her have this space. He could always ask about her plans later. For now, it was enough to see her in her element, the snowy world outside a silent witness to their long-standing friendship.

Izuku’s smile faltered slightly as he leaned back against the workbench, his eyes drifting toward the snowy window. His mind wandered back to a conversation he’d had a few weeks ago, one that still felt a little uneasy to him. He had been talking to Bakugo about hero gear, as he often did. The topic had come up because Bakugo was complaining—again—about his mechanic, Hatsune, becoming more and more difficult to work with.

“She’s becoming way too crazy for me,” Bakugo had growled, arms crossed over his chest. “Can’t get anything right. I need someone who knows what they’re doing and doesn’t slow me down.”

Izuku had mentioned Y/n then—how she specialized in high-tech gear for top-tier heroes, how she had worked on everything from mobility suits to combat weapons. He’d never seen someone so passionate and skilled in her field. Her genius with design was unmatched, and he knew Bakugo needed someone like her.

"I can ask Y/n," Izuku had said, feeling a little apprehensive even then. "She works with some of the top heroes, and she's great with custom gear. I think she'd be perfect for you."

Bakugo’s eyes had narrowed, his face skeptical at first. But then he’d grunted, “Fine, do it. Get her to take a look at my gear. I need someone I can trust, not some idiot who can’t get it right.”

Izuku had left the conversation feeling a strange mix of guilt and responsibility, unsure how to approach Y/n with the idea. He’d been coming to her for years with requests—whether it was advice, help with his own gear, or the occasional favor—and each time, she’d told him that she didn’t mind. But this time, this felt different. Bakugo was... well, Bakugo. His strong personality, his need for control, and his lack of patience for anything that didn’t fit his vision made Izuku nervous.

He had always admired how Y/n managed her work with grace and precision, but introducing her to Bakugo seemed like a different kind of challenge. Would she even want to deal with him? Would Bakugo be able to respect her process, or would his brash attitude drive her away?

Izuku cleared his throat, drawing Y/n’s attention back to him. “Actually,” he began, his voice a little more hesitant than he intended, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, noticing the shift in his demeanor. “What’s up?”

Izuku hesitated for a moment longer before pushing the thought forward. “So, I mentioned you to Bakugo a while ago… about your work with high-tech gear, and... well, he needs a new mechanic.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed just slightly, catching the tension in his voice. “Bakugo Katsuki?” she asked, already piecing things together.

“Yeah...” Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, his nerves making him feel awkward despite his usual confidence. “He’s been having trouble with his current mechanic. Hatsune’s just... not cutting it for him anymore. So, he asked me to find someone better, and I thought of you.”

Y/n let out a long, thoughtful sigh, leaning back against the workbench with her arms crossed. “So, you want me to work with him?” Her tone wasn’t cold, but there was a certain wariness to it.

Izuku nodded slowly. “I know you don’t usually take on a lot of requests from other heroes, but Bakugo… he’s not like other people. He’s... intense. But he respects people who can get the job done. And you could really help him, Y/n."

Y/n paused, her eyes distant for a moment as she thought it over. She’d worked with plenty of demanding heroes in the past—each with their own quirks and preferences—but Bakugo was a different breed entirely. His overwhelming pride and stubbornness were legendary, and his ability to alienate those around him was almost as impressive as his power.

"I’m not sure..." she said quietly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I know you trust him, Izuku, but Bakugo’s not exactly known for being... easy to work with."

Izuku chuckled nervously, scratching his head. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. He’s a bit of a handful, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. Once he knows someone can deliver, he’ll actually start listening. It’s just... the first impression can be a lot.”

Y/n glanced at him, a mixture of hesitation and curiosity in her eyes. “And you really think I’m the right fit for him?”

“I think you’re the only one who could keep up with him,” Izuku said, trying to sound convincing. “He needs someone who can handle his... unique personality and still give him the gear he needs. You’re the best at what you do, and I know he’s looking for someone who can be as precise as you are.”

There was a silence as Y/n thought it over, her gaze flickering between Izuku and the scattered tools in front of her. Finally, she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Alright, I’ll think about it. But if I do this, it’s going to be on my terms. No exceptions. I don’t want to hear complaints about my methods.”

Izuku smiled, relieved. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Thanks, Y/n. I know Bakugo’s not the easiest guy to deal with, but... he really needs this.”

Y/n gave a small shrug, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “If it’ll help him, I’ll make it work. But if he starts pushing my buttons too much, I’m not afraid to put him in his place.”

Izuku chuckled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him. “I know you can handle it. I’ll tell him you’ll take him on, and then... I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

As he spoke, the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in soft white silence. Izuku couldn’t help but feel a little lighter knowing that Y/n had agreed, even if it was with some reservations. Bakugo’s need for a new mechanic would finally be addressed, and, maybe, just maybe, this December would bring a new kind of challenge—not just for Bakugo, but for the complicated dynamic that was starting to form between Y/n and the explosive hero.

Izuku noticed the slight skepticism in Y/n’s expression as she thought about Bakugo. She’d never met him before, only hearing about him through Izuku’s long, often exaggerated stories about his explosive friend. Of course, she had seen Bakugo on TV plenty of times—his rise through the hero ranks, his explosive battles, his notorious temper—it had always seemed like a whirlwind to her. From her perspective, Bakugo’s entire existence sometimes seemed like a bit of a silly spectacle.

But then again, she knew how much Bakugo meant to Izuku. His loyalty to Bakugo was unwavering, and Y/n had always admired that. Despite how different they were, Izuku’s stories about Bakugo painted a picture of someone who was fiercely determined, though often misunderstood. Y/n didn’t mind hearing Izuku go on and on about him. It was a bit of a routine between them. She would continue working on whatever project she had at the time, her hands moving with practiced precision, while Izuku sat nearby, spilling out his thoughts on anything and everything.

Most of the time, their conversations flowed like this: Izuku would tell stories about his days at U.A., how Aizawa was doing with his prosthetic leg, how Eri was adjusting to life with the other students. But it was Bakugo who often dominated their talks.

Izuku would talk about their childhood—about how they had grown up together, how their rivalry had been something that shaped both of them. He would talk about how Bakugo had always been stubborn, but deep down, he had a heart that cared more than he let on. Y/n would only half-listen at times, her focus mostly on the tasks in front of her—whether it was tuning up some gear or designing a new piece for a client. The rhythm of the work was comforting. It allowed her mind to wander, to let Izuku’s words fill the space between each stroke of her tool.

But now, the conversation had shifted. Izuku, clearly sensing that Y/n was not quite sure about the whole Bakugo situation, had backed off for the moment. He didn’t want to push too hard, especially after seeing the thoughtful look in her eyes. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured or uncomfortable with the idea of working with someone she had never met in person.

"Anyway," Izuku said, his voice a bit lighter now, "what’s new with your projects? Anything I can help with?"

Y/n blinked, the shift in focus pulling her back into the present. She looked at Izuku, her brow furrowing slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You always want to help with something," she teased lightly, but there was no real malice behind it. She paused for a moment, thinking of the different projects on her plate. "I’ve been designing some new mobility gear for some of the higher-tier heroes. They’re looking for something lighter but still able to take a hit. It’s been a bit tricky, but I think I’ve got something coming along."

Izuku nodded enthusiastically, his interest piqued. "Sounds interesting! What kind of specs are you going for? Are they focusing on speed or protection, or both?"

Y/n leaned back, stretching slightly before sitting down on the stool nearby. "Both, actually. But the challenge is making it flexible enough for agility while still being tough enough to handle combat situations. I think I’ve figured out how to balance both with the right kind of material, but it’s still a work in progress."

Izuku’s eyes sparkled with admiration. "That’s exactly why you’re the best at what you do, Y/n. You think of every detail. Most people would just focus on one or the other, but you always find a way to make it work."

Y/n’s cheeks flushed a little at the compliment, though she quickly deflected it with a shrug. "It’s just about understanding the needs of the person using the gear. Everyone fights differently, and every hero has different requirements. It’s all about finding that balance."

Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I’ve learned that the hard way with my own gear."

Y/n laughed softly. "I remember that. You always came to me with a million things wrong with your suits. You really do like to push things to the limit."

"Well, that’s what being a hero is about, right? Pushing your limits?" Izuku replied with his usual enthusiasm, though there was a hint of self-awareness in his tone.

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. "True, true. I just have to make sure you don’t push my limits too much. You’re lucky I like working on your gear."

"I know, I know," Izuku said with a grin. "I’m very lucky."

As their conversation continued, the earlier tension surrounding Bakugo seemed to dissipate, at least for the moment. Izuku let the topic drift for now, content to focus on the things that truly mattered in this moment—their shared love for hero gear, their long-standing friendship, and the mutual respect they had for each other's abilities.

The sounds of the holiday music outside continued to float in through the windows, mingling with the soft hum of the workbench, as the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came from years of understanding each other. The snow outside continued to fall, blanketing the world in soft, peaceful quiet, as the day drifted on.

Izuku leaned back slightly, watching as Y/n continued working, her hands moving with purpose, but her eyes still sharp as she worked through each task. After a moment of thought, he asked, “You ever think about moving to a bigger workshop? I mean, with the amount of high-ranking heroes you’ve worked for, you’ve got enough money to pretty much be considered rich. And you always get paid well for your work. I bet you could have a bigger, fancier place somewhere else. Maybe somewhere with better facilities.”

Y/n paused for a moment, her tools held still as she glanced up at him, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didn’t immediately answer, instead looking out the window as the soft hum of the shop and the occasional sounds of children playing outside filled the space between them.

“I’ve thought about it,” she said finally, her voice calm. “But no, I don’t want to move.”

Izuku blinked in surprise, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I would’ve thought the idea of working in a bigger place would appeal to you. I mean, you’re practically a legend with how much work you get. You could have everything—state-of-the-art tools, a giant workshop with a team of people to assist you.”

She shook her head lightly, her expression thoughtful. “I like it here. This place, the people around me—it’s... peaceful. I get to watch the kids outside my window, running around in the snow with their toys. I see the plant beds outside, covered in snow, and the way the neighbors always drop by with little treats or just to say hello. They’re always kind to me, and that matters. It keeps me grounded. This place is... part of why I work well.”

Izuku’s gaze softened as he listened, understanding what she meant. Y/n had always been someone who didn’t need the glitz and glamour of fame or fortune. Her work spoke for itself, but she found satisfaction in the smaller things. She didn’t crave luxury or recognition—she simply wanted to create, to help, and to be a part of her community in a way that made her feel at home.

“Sometimes I think I could place myself anywhere, and it wouldn’t be the same,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper now, as if sharing a quiet truth. “I need this environment, these people, these sounds. They help me stay focused. If I went to a fancier place, I’d lose that.”

Izuku couldn’t help but smile at her grounded perspective. He had always admired how self-aware Y/n was, how she never let external expectations sway her from her own path. She wasn’t driven by fame or money. She was driven by her own passion for her work, her connection to the world around her.

He thought back to when he was 19, when he first met Y/n. Back then, he had been struggling with his own sense of self, unsure about his future as a hero, unsure of his place in the world. Meeting Y/n had been a turning point for him. She had shown him that it was okay to be rooted, to take time and build something meaningful. He was grateful—grateful that he had met her when he did.

“I’m glad you don’t feel the need to change,” Izuku said softly, the sincerity in his words clear. “You’re happy here, and that’s what matters most. And besides, I don’t think you’d be you if you went somewhere else.”

Y/n’s eyes softened at his words, a small smile appearing on her lips as she met his gaze. “I guess that’s true. I like who I am here, surrounded by the things that make me happy. But enough about me. What about you? You’ve been traveling all over the place lately, huh? Any exciting stories from your hero work?”

Izuku chuckled, grateful for the change in topic. "Well, actually... there’s been a lot happening in the last couple of weeks. I’ve been working on a new suit, and—"

As he continued, Y/n listened with that same patient attention she always gave him, her focus divided between the work in front of her and the conversation they shared. The snowfall outside continued, gently covering the world in white, while inside, the warmth of their friendship filled the room.

Izuku smiled quietly to himself as he spoke, thinking back on everything that had brought them to this moment. He couldn’t have asked for a better friend, and he knew, deep down, that meeting Y/n had been one of the best things that had ever happened to him. And though their paths had been different, and their worlds often felt far apart, moments like this—when they could simply sit together, talking about life—reminded him of how much they both needed this. The peace, the balance, the understanding. It was the foundation of their friendship, and he would never take it for granted.

As the conversation between Izuku and Y/n continued, the atmosphere in the workshop remained warm and easy. They were deep into discussing the latest projects Y/n had been working on, the gentle hum of the machines in the background blending with the soft holiday music floating in from outside. The snow had continued falling in thick flurries, and the quiet of the outside world mirrored the calm between the two of them.

But just as the conversation reached a lull, Izuku’s phone buzzed on the workbench with an urgent ring, cutting through the peaceful atmosphere. He glanced down at the screen, his expression immediately shifting into one of concern. It was a call from the agency.

"Sorry, I need to take this," he said, standing up quickly, his usual calm demeanor slipping into one of focus as he answered the call. "Midoriya speaking."

Y/n watched him, her gaze flicking to his tense posture as he moved a little further away, listening intently to whatever was being said on the other end of the line. She could hear the snippets of conversation as Izuku responded, his voice low but urgent, his brow furrowing as he processed the information.

"Right, I’ll be there ASAP," he said, ending the call with a quick click of his tongue. He turned back to her, his expression more serious now.

"I’m really sorry, Y/n," he apologized, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and quickly slipping it on. "Something’s come up, I have to go. A situation with one of the heroes—there’s a report of a villain attack. They need me to go on standby, so I’ll have to cut this visit short."

Y/n nodded, understanding without needing any further explanation. "Go ahead. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine here."

Izuku hesitated for a moment, clearly not wanting to leave her alone in the workshop, but he knew there was no time to waste. "Thanks for understanding. I’ll make it up to you next time."

Y/n gave him a small, reassuring smile. "No problem, Izuku. I’m used to working alone anyway." She gestured to the room around her, already resettling herself by the workbench as if the absence of his company wouldn’t disrupt her rhythm.

Izuku smiled back, albeit with a tinge of guilt. "Take care, Y/n. I’ll be in touch later. Let me know if you need anything."

With one last glance in her direction, Izuku hurried out of the workshop, leaving Y/n alone amidst the clutter of tools, sketches, and unfinished projects. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and for a moment, the quiet of the workshop seemed to grow a little heavier. The sound of the snow outside was muffled by the thick windows, and the holiday music faintly filtered through the glass from the street below.

Y/n’s eyes briefly lingered on the door for a second longer, before she shook her head, returning her focus to the task at hand. It wasn’t the first time she’d been left to her work in silence, and it wouldn’t be the last. Still, as much as she valued her solitude, a part of her felt the absence of Izuku’s calming presence. She could feel the small void left behind, but it was a feeling she quickly dismissed as she got back to work.

With practiced hands, she began to sort through her designs, pulling out blueprints for the current project. The hum of the machines, the occasional scrape of metal against metal, and the soft, rhythmic clicks of her tools returned to fill the space, grounding her once again in the quiet of her work.

The day outside continued to darken, the snow falling heavier now, but inside the workshop, it felt timeless.

Y/n’s workshop was a perfect reflection of her: functional, organized, and filled with small details that gave it a unique, personal touch. The main area of the workshop had high ceilings and large windows that allowed plenty of natural light to flood the space during the day, illuminating the various workstations and scattered tools. Despite the organized chaos of the room—papers strewn about, designs pinned to the wall, and parts of unfinished hero gear—it all somehow felt purposeful, each piece contributing to the greater whole of her work.

The walls were lined with shelves that held materials of every kind—metal sheets, wires, and tech parts, all sorted and labeled meticulously. The large central workbench dominated the space, covered with blueprints, half-finished projects, and tools that were always within arm’s reach. Next to the workbench was a smaller table where she would assemble smaller components, usually scattered with tiny screws, wires, and the occasional tool she would use in intricate designs.

On the far wall, a section of the space was dedicated to machines and testing equipment—some for stress testing the gear she designed, others for fine-tuning prototypes. There was a section for 3D printers, a soldering station, and an area where she would run diagnostics on newly built gadgets. A few monitors were set up here as well, displaying various projects and progress on her latest designs.

Beyond the main room, there were three rooms that led off into the back.

The bathroom was tucked away on the far left. It was simple but well-kept, with just enough space for essentials and a tiny window that let in natural light, though it was mostly used as a quick retreat when Y/n needed a break from her work.

Next to it was the storage room for tools that didn’t fit in the main area. Large, sturdy cabinets were filled with drills, screwdrivers, hammers, and other equipment that she didn’t use as frequently. There were shelves above that held spare parts for gadgets and the odd prototype or two that she wasn’t yet ready to put in the main area.

The long-term project room was located at the back of the workshop, where Y/n would store the larger, more complex projects she wasn’t actively working on. Some of the space was taken up by prototype suits in various stages of completion—half-finished designs that required careful planning and long hours to perfect. The room was meticulously organized, as Y/n hated clutter, but it had a more clinical feel to it, compared to the organized chaos of the main area.

At the back of the room, a narrow staircase led upward, the steps creaking faintly beneath her feet. The upper floor was an area that offered more privacy and quiet, a stark contrast to the lively hum of the workshop below. The bedroom was at the top of the stairs, small but cozy, with a large bed by the window and shelves filled with books, sketchpads, and old journals. There was a sense of calm here that made it the perfect place for her to recharge after long hours of work. The walls were adorned with various technical blueprints and framed photos of heroes she admired, and on the nightstand next to the bed was a small plant that added a touch of life to the room.

Beside the bedroom, however, there was a second room that she had yet to figure out what to do with. It was a small, undecorated space—nothing more than bare walls, empty shelves, and the occasional discarded item. It had been empty for a while, and Y/n hadn’t found a purpose for it yet. Perhaps it would one day hold more work materials, or maybe it would become a small personal space for herself outside of her work. For now, though, it remained unused, just another blank canvas in the sea of activity that was her life.

The entire workshop felt like a sanctuary to her—each room designed with purpose, each space contributing to the calm efficiency of her work. It wasn’t just a place for tools and projects; it was her home, her heart, and a tangible reflection of her dedication to her craft. As the day outside grew darker and the snow continued to fall, Y/n returned to the main room, feeling at peace among the clutter, her hands instinctively reaching for the next task.

As the hours passed, the workshop became a warm sanctuary amidst the growing chill outside. The light inside was soft and comforting, the candles she had lit casting a gentle glow that danced against the cluttered walls. She had been so focused on her work that she didn’t even notice the change in the light, the sky slowly darkening outside as the night settled in. The workshop was still full of life—her tools, half-finished designs, and the various pieces of gear she had scattered across the workbench—but her attention was entirely absorbed by the task in front of her: creating a new piece of hero gear for Red Riot, Eijiro Kirishima.

She had been at it for hours, tweaking the design and fine-tuning every detail of the new suit, adjusting the fit, the layers, the protective tech, and the durability for his quirk. She had always admired Kirishima's unwavering sense of bravery and his dedication to his hero work. His gear had to be as strong and dependable as he was. She’d spent countless hours designing and perfecting the reinforced armor plates, the texture, and the mobility—making sure that the suit would enhance his natural durability while not impeding his explosive, close-quarters fighting style.

By the time she finished the last stitch, her hair had come undone from its messy bun and hung loosely around her face, which was smudged with grease from hours of constant work. Her clothes were wrinkled, sleeves rolled up, and her hands were covered in a mix of oil, ink, and the remnants of materials she had been handling. Though she was a mess in appearance, it suited her in a way. It was a reflection of the intensity and dedication she poured into every project, every piece of gear she created. She didn’t mind it. In fact, it was comforting. It meant she had been focused—fully immersed in the work she loved. She couldn't care less that her hair was a little wild and her face was smeared with the evidence of her labor.

The candles on her workbench flickered softly, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon filling the air. The small lights she’d strung across the ceiling cast a cozy glow that added to the ambiance, giving the room a festive, almost magical feel. Outside, the world had fully transitioned into evening. The streetlights gleamed brightly, each one wrapped with red and green fairy lights, lighting up the street like little stars. Her shop’s window was aglow, and the soft light spilled out onto the sidewalk, making the whole street feel like it was dressed for the season. Her little bell, which jingled every time someone entered her workshop, was adorned with a small red bow, adding a final touch of holiday cheer.

Through the window, she could see the street bustling with people, each bundled in thick scarves and coats as they roamed the festive streets. The crowd had grown in size over the past few hours, many of them exchanging treats, shopping at local vendors, or simply strolling with loved ones. A group of children had gathered near the center of the block, their laughter filling the air as they watched the massive Christmas tree being decorated with ornaments and twinkling lights. The whole scene had a sense of magic and togetherness that warmed her heart as she watched, her gaze softening as she let herself get lost in the festive atmosphere.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had paused long enough to enjoy something so simple—the sight of people gathered around, smiling and enjoying each other’s company. It reminded her of how important these moments of peace and joy were, even in a world so filled with chaos. Her eyes lingered on the scene, taking in the bright lights of the tree, the colorful displays in the windows of neighboring shops, and the way the snow shimmered in the distance as it continued to fall softly against the street.

Her thoughts drifted as she finished wrapping up Kirishima’s new gear, the final piece carefully placed in the box. She pulled out her phone, her fingers sliding over the screen to type out a message to him. The thought of his big, enthusiastic grin when he picked up the suit made her smile a little to herself.

“Hey Kirishima, your gear’s ready for pickup whenever you are. Just let me know when you’re free! —Y/n”

She typed out the message, but before hitting send, she paused. She had always felt a bit awkward when it came to communicating with her clients outside of work, though Kirishima was different. He was always kind and appreciative, and she had enjoyed working with him over the years. Still, she lingered over the message for a moment longer than necessary, contemplating whether to add a little something extra. Something more personal. Maybe a quick note about the weather, or the Christmas tree in the square?

She sighed softly, No. Just send it. She quickly hit “send,” feeling a rush of relief once it was done.

The quiet of the evening settled back into the workshop, and the faint sounds of the street outside returned to her ears. She turned back to the room, taking a final glance around at the organized chaos she had created. The clutter, the half-finished designs, the smell of wax and grease—it was all part of the environment that made her feel at home.

As she moved to put away the tools scattered across the bench, she caught one last glimpse of the scene outside—children running beneath the lights, families exchanging gifts, and the huge tree casting its glow over the neighborhood. For a moment, everything felt in place, and she allowed herself to relax into the peace of the moment, knowing she had done good work, and the holidays were here to remind her of life beyond the grind.

December was always a whirlwind for Y/n. It was the one month of the year when everything seemed to shift into high gear. The streets outside her shop would become busier, the sound of footsteps and excited chatter filling the air as the holiday season descended upon the city. But for Y/n, December was not just about the holidays—it was the month when the majority of heroes in Japan scrambled to fit themselves into her already-packed schedule.

The end of the year was always the busiest time for most pro heroes. They had to complete their last missions before taking time off for the holidays, and many of them needed adjustments, repairs, or entirely new gear for the new year. It was a crucial time when their equipment had to be fine-tuned or revamped, and no one was more in demand than Y/n. Her reputation had spread far and wide, and no one was better at designing high-tech, battle-ready gear than her.

Every year, it seemed, more heroes came to her, and every year, she had to scramble to keep up with the influx of requests. The inbox on her phone would fill up with urgent messages, often from heroes in desperate need of gear before a mission. Pro heroes like Red Riot, Ingenium, Froppy, and even Gran Torino had been known to slide into her DMs, trying to carve out a time to meet. Each request was important to her, and she made it her mission to fulfill them all—no matter how hectic her days became.

It wasn’t just the high-ranking pros either. Sometimes young up-and-comers would reach out too, seeking advice or help with building their own custom gear. But the pros were always the priority. She’d never turn down a request, and while the workload could sometimes feel suffocating, she always found herself excited to tackle the challenge. Every new design pushed her to think harder, be more creative, and solve problems in ways no one else could. It was exhausting but exhilarating, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

It had been this way for years, ever since she started her career as a gear designer. In fact, December was the only time of year she ever visited Mustafu, and every time she did, the city seemed to draw her in a little more. While the snow-covered streets, the festive decorations, and the bustling crowds were all part of the charm, it was the heroes themselves that kept her tethered to this place. She’d built a life here—a life that was always filled with problem-solving, challenges, and the satisfaction of creating something that helped keep the people of Japan safe.

As she worked long hours during the month of December, the little details of the holiday season often became the background to her chaotic schedule. The occasional carol or the soft jingle of the bell on her door when a customer entered would remind her that, while she was surrounded by the rush of work, there was also something more joyful, more serene, happening just outside. It was a delicate balance between the frantic pace of creating new gear and the sense of calm that came with watching the world outside transform into something beautiful for the holidays.

She didn’t mind the busyness, though. In fact, she thrived in it. It felt good to be needed, to know that her work was essential to the safety and success of those fighting for the greater good. December, with all its chaos, was also the time when she felt most alive. But it also reminded her of how quickly time passed—the days became a blur of designs, measurements, and last-minute requests, and before she knew it, the year would end.

But for now, Y/n focused on the task at hand. As the snow continued to fall outside and the Christmas lights twinkled on the streets, she settled back into her routine, fully immersed in her work. She knew there were many more requests coming her way, and many more late nights ahead of her—but that was just part of her life during December, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~

Bakugo sat in his dimly lit apartment, staring out the window at the snow falling outside. The muffled sounds of the city echoed faintly from below, but he wasn’t really paying attention. His mind was elsewhere, revolving around one thing—Y/n L/n.

His phone sat in his hand, and he clenched it tightly, barely containing his impatience. He had been thinking about this for weeks, wondering if it was even worth bothering her. He hadn’t seen her in person yet, but after hearing Midoriya talk about her for so long, there was no denying the intrigue. She was the best at what she did, and that’s exactly what he needed—the best. His old mechanic, Hatsune, had been getting more erratic with each passing year. And Bakugo didn’t have time for a screw-up; he needed his new gear for the upcoming missions and the adjustments to his current tech. No more messing around.

The phone in his hand buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked at the screen—Midoriya—and pressed the green button without hesitation.

“What is it, Deku?” Bakugo growled, his voice as sharp as ever. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“Hey, Bakugo,” Izuku replied on the other end of the line, his voice warm as always, even though he knew Bakugo’s impatience was palpable. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Y/n. I’ve set everything up for you—she’s agreed to meet with you. You just have to contact her to set a time.”

Bakugo grunted in response, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Midoriya. I can set the damn thing up myself.”

Izuku chuckled lightly, the sound more of a sigh than anything. “I know you can. I just thought it might be easier to get things started since you’ve been hesitant to reach out directly.”

“‘Hesitant’?” Bakugo snorted, his voice rising with the familiar frustration he felt whenever anyone pointed out his reluctance. “I’m not hesitant. I just—” he cut himself off, shaking his head in annoyance. It wasn’t like him to admit to being unsure about something, especially when it came to reaching out for help. He always took care of things on his own. He didn’t need anyone’s help, not even from someone as damn good as Y/n.

Midoriya could practically hear the internal struggle in Bakugo’s voice. He didn’t press it, though. He knew his friend wasn’t the type to admit when he was in over his head. Instead, he tried to steer the conversation back. “She’s amazing, Bakugo. Trust me, you’re in good hands. She works on gear for top pros all the time. You’ve heard me talk about her before, right?”

Bakugo grumbled under his breath, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, I’ve heard you go on and on about her. Genius this, genius that. She’s the best at fixing everything, blah blah blah.” He mimicked Izuku’s voice as he spoke, his tone dripping with sarcastic humor. “I don’t need to hear it again.”

“Yeah, but... you are going to meet her, right? I mean, you can’t exactly keep putting it off forever. You’ve been saying you need new gear for a while now, and she’s the one who can help. If you want a solid suit, you should meet with her soon.”

Bakugo paused, considering this. He knew it wasn’t just the suit that was holding him back. It was more than that. This wasn’t like his usual, straightforward upgrades. This was someone new. Someone who, despite being a genius in her field, wasn’t someone he had a history with, wasn’t someone who he could just bark orders at and get things done. Y/n was a different kind of person—one who demanded respect, not just because of her skills, but because of the way she carried herself.

“I know. I know,” Bakugo muttered finally, rubbing his neck with his free hand, his frustration turning inward. “I just... I don’t like asking for help, okay?"

Izuku’s voice softened. “I get it, Bakugo. But Y/n isn’t like Hatsune. She’s the kind of person who makes things happen. You won’t regret it. She works with some of the highest-ranked heroes, and she’s one of the best at what she does. You’ll be in good hands.”

Bakugo let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll call her... but you better not tell anyone I needed your help setting it up.”

“Of course,” Izuku agreed with a laugh. “I promise. It’s between us.”

“Good. Now, get outta here, nerd.” Bakugo hung up before Izuku could say another word, tossing the phone down onto the couch beside him. His brow furrowed as he leaned back in his chair, his thoughts swirling around the upcoming meeting.

He wasn’t sure what he expected from Y/n. All he knew was that she had the skills to make him unstoppable, and for someone like Bakugo, that was everything. But meeting her... well, that was something else. Would she be as cold as her reputation suggested, or would she just get down to business, no-nonsense like him? He didn’t know. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let himself back out of it. Not when he needed her.

“I’m not asking for a favor,” he muttered to himself, his usual scowl twisting his features. “I’m just making a damn appointment.”

Bakugo scowled as he leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping impatiently on the armrest. He wasn’t a patient person. He didn’t have time for slow-moving relationships or delicate negotiations. And that’s exactly what this felt like. The last thing he wanted was to screw it up like he did with Hatsume. She had been good—okay good—at making his gear, but she was erratic, unpredictable, and the constant chaos she brought with her was something Bakugo just couldn’t deal with anymore. The final straw had been when she had tried to alter his gauntlets to make them "more experimental," without consulting him. It was a disaster. He had spent weeks fixing the mess she'd made, and it had thrown off his entire schedule.

No, Y/n was different. From what Izuku told him, she was highly sought after by pro heroes and specialized in creating high-tech, custom gear—precisely the kind of gear he needed. And from what Izuku had said, she was serious about her work, no-nonsense. She didn’t tolerate wasting time, and that was exactly the kind of person Bakugo respected. He didn’t want a frilly, touchy-feely process with her. He didn’t want to make small talk or find some "special bond" like Izuku seemed to have with her. He didn’t need a friend—he needed a professional. He wanted the best, and that was Y/n.

But that’s what made it so hard. He didn’t know how to do this. He couldn’t approach her like he did with the others—bark out his request and get on with it. She wasn’t someone who’d respond well to his usual “tough guy” routine. She wasn’t Hatsume. From what he knew, she was calm, calculated, and all business. If he wanted to get her to take him seriously and make him the gear he needed, he would have to not screw it up. He’d have to be careful... and that thought made his stomach twist.

The thing that made it harder was that Y/n was also Izuku’s friend, and Bakugo couldn’t help but feel a little... weird about that. Midoriya was the one person who seemed to get along with everyone. The guy had this natural ability to make connections, to nurture relationships, something Bakugo never had the patience for. He didn’t know how to "bond" with people. To him, the whole process was a waste of time. But with Y/n? That was different. He couldn’t afford to just barge in, demanding what he needed and then walking away. That kind of attitude might’ve worked with other people, but it wouldn’t work with her. He had to tread carefully.

And that pissed him off.

“So what?” Bakugo muttered under his breath, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. “I’m supposed to... be nice? Talk to her about her stupid gear until we’re best buddies? I don’t have time for that crap.”

But deep down, he knew that if he didn’t play this right, he wouldn’t get anywhere. If he came at her like he did with Hatsume, all brash and rude, there was a chance she’d just turn him away. And then he’d be stuck, trying to fix things on his own—just like before.

Taking a deep breath, Bakugo reached for his phone, staring at the screen for a long moment before dialing Y/n’s number. His fingers hovered over the screen, his thoughts racing. He hated this. He hated that he had to make another appointment, another meeting, another careful exchange of words just to make sure he didn’t sound like a total jackass.

He could feel his pulse quicken as the phone rang. “Get it together, you idiot,” he muttered, gritting his teeth.

The phone continued to ring. He wasn’t sure what he was even going to say when she picked up. Something simple, probably. Something like, Hey, I need you to fix my gear. But even that felt too much like the usual Bakugo approach—too direct, too harsh. He wasn’t sure how to make the request sound more... respectful. More professional. If he was going to do this right, he couldn’t go in all guns blazing.

“C’mon, pick up...” Bakugo’s frustration mounted as the ringing continued. His mind kept circling back to the same question: What the hell am I supposed to say to her?

Finally, the phone clicked.

"Hello, this is Y/n."

Her voice was calm, collected. The kind of voice Bakugo hadn’t expected to hear. No snarky attitude, no annoyance—it was just business.

"Yeah," Bakugo started, trying to keep his voice steady, but his natural abrasiveness still slipped through. "I’m Bakugo Katsuki. Midoriya told you I’d be calling. I need my gear fixed... and I want it done right."

He could hear the pause on the other end of the line. Y/n didn’t immediately respond, which only made Bakugo’s nerves flare up. Was she annoyed? Was she going to turn him down?

"Alright," she said finally, her tone even, measured. "What’s the issue?"

It was simple, no-nonsense. And that was exactly what Bakugo needed. He took a breath and launched into the details of his gear—what needed tweaking, what had malfunctioned, and what he needed for the upcoming season. His words came more easily now that the initial awkwardness had passed. As he spoke, he realized he was relieved. Y/n wasn’t the type to deal with his temper. She was someone who got straight to the point, which meant he didn’t have to pretend to be anything else. He could just be himself—short, blunt, and direct.

And that, strangely enough, was exactly what he needed.

The phone call hung in the air between them, a slight tension threading through the silence as Bakugo gathered his thoughts. Y/n’s voice on the other end of the line was calm and professional, and it gave Bakugo an odd sense of reassurance. For once, he didn’t have to worry about unnecessary pleasantries. This wasn’t some small-time mechanic; this was Y/n L/n, one of the best in the business, and he didn’t have time for any mess-ups.

“Alright,” Y/n said, her voice smooth but firm. “What seems to be the problem?”

Bakugo exhaled sharply, not hesitating. "I need my gear adjusted. The gauntlets are fine, but they're starting to wear down. The propulsion system’s malfunctioning, too. Can't get the proper boost anymore."

Her response was instant. "That sounds like a problem with the wiring. Could be the energy core too. Anything else?"

Bakugo ground his teeth, trying to keep his irritation in check. She wasn’t sounding like she was judging him—just asking the right questions. It was professional, straightforward, and it caught him off guard. He expected more... resistance or maybe even a little sarcasm. But instead, it felt like a business transaction, and for once, he appreciated it.

"The gauntlet's shield mode is also starting to glitch. It's not holding up under pressure. I’ve had some issues with that before, but now it’s worse," he added, his tone more clipped now as he went down the list. "And I need something a bit more... advanced for my upcoming missions. I’m thinking something to enhance the explosion output."

"Got it," she replied, her voice never wavering, no hint of surprise at his demands. "I'll need to take a look at the damage in person. Could you bring everything by the shop tomorrow around noon?"

Bakugo paused at the mention of "shop." He had heard a lot about her workshop from Izuku, but now that he was here—actually talking to her—he didn’t know what to expect. Would it be some quiet little place, cluttered with tools and parts? Or would it be more... organized than he imagined?

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to stay focused. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll bring the gauntlets. I want everything checked—don’t leave anything out.”

“Understood,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll have time to go over it then. Anything else you want me to know about your gear before I start?"

Bakugo thought for a second. She wasn’t rushing him. She wasn’t acting like he was wasting her time, and that alone made him feel slightly less on edge.

"Uh, I guess..." he trailed off for a moment, frowning. "It’s gotta be stronger. Faster. I don’t need a ton of useless gimmicks or flashy upgrades. Just solid performance. Something to handle my attacks without failing halfway through."

Y/n’s voice came through again, steady and sure. "I understand. I’ll make sure everything is tailored to your fighting style. No frills, just raw power."

For the first time during their conversation, Bakugo allowed himself to feel a bit of relief. That was exactly what he wanted. He wasn’t here for anything fancy—just the best of the best, no fluff. The thought of someone understanding that so quickly was almost comforting, which irritated him slightly. He wasn’t used to this calm, methodical approach. But it was working.

"Alright," Bakugo grunted, getting back to business. "I’ll see you tomorrow at noon, then. Don’t waste my time."

"Won’t be a problem," she replied smoothly. "See you then, Bakugo."

And with that, the line went quiet as Bakugo hung up. His fingers were still tight around the phone, but this time, it wasn’t out of frustration—it was because he had, against all his instincts, actually felt like he could trust her. And maybe that was the hardest part of all.

For someone like Bakugo, trust wasn’t easily earned. But from the way she handled their conversation—calm, to the point, no unnecessary chatter—Y/n was the kind of person who got things done. That was what he needed.

He just hoped that tomorrow would go smoothly.

Bakugo stood in his apartment, staring down at his phone for a few long moments after hanging up. He had thought briefly about texting Midoriya, asking if he could offer any advice on how to not screw up his first in-person meeting with Y/n. But he quickly dismissed the idea. He wouldn’t give Deku the satisfaction of being right about their whole “bonding” nonsense. He didn’t need anyone telling him how to handle this. He’d figure it out on his own—like he always did.

With a frustrated grunt, Bakugo shoved his phone into his jacket pocket and stormed out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him. The cold air hit him immediately as he stepped out onto the snowy street. It was still early evening, and the last traces of daylight were fading from the sky, leaving only the soft glow of streetlights and the distant sparkle of holiday decorations.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and set off in the direction of her workshop. He didn’t want to walk in or do anything crazy, just wanted to scope the place out. Get a feel for it before he actually showed up tomorrow.

The streets were busy with people, most of them huddled together as they went about their evening shopping or gathering in groups, preparing for the upcoming holidays. The air smelled of fresh snow, candy, and food from the nearby vendors. People were exchanging holiday treats, laughing as they shared stories with one another. It was almost peaceful, and Bakugo hated how easy it was to feel... out of place.

But he didn’t care about that. He had a job to do. A mission to accomplish. And Y/n’s workshop was part of that. He needed to know what kind of person he was dealing with.

As he turned down the street, he spotted it. A small shop, tucked between two larger buildings, with a humble wooden sign hanging above the door that read Y/n L/n Hero Gear Design. The exterior was simple but inviting. Green leaves of mistletoe were carefully draped across the windows, and a few strands of fairy lights wrapped around the lamppost outside. A small red bow adorned the bell that hung above the door—probably the same bell he’d hear when he walked in tomorrow.

Bakugo lingered on the corner, his eyes scanning the scene. The shop was warm and cozy looking, its window fogged with the heat of the inside and glowing softly from the lights within. He could see the faint outline of a workbench through the window—tools scattered across it, some parts in mid-construction, half-finished prototypes lying around. The soft glow of candles illuminated the interior, giving it a comfortable, lived-in feel.

His eyes narrowed as he examined the details. The window was too fogged up to make out much more, but the simplicity of the shop was striking. It wasn’t some flashy place with expensive decorations or excessive tech gadgets. It looked like a place that was used for one thing: work. This was where people came to get serious gear designed, not to be coddled or pampered.

That, in itself, made Bakugo feel a bit more at ease. He didn’t need some fancy shop with a bunch of unnecessary perks. This was more like it—straightforward, no frills. He could respect that.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands clenched tightly in his pockets. He had no intention of walking in tonight. No need for that. He wasn’t here to make an impression or start small talk. He just needed to get a better look at the place.

He stood there for a while, watching through the window, noting the way the candles flickered in the dimming light and the faint hum of holiday music that seemed to float out into the street. The place felt... warm. Cozy. It felt like a space where someone worked tirelessly, and that was the vibe he needed.

After a few more minutes, Bakugo pulled his gaze away and turned around, heading back down the street. He didn’t need to see anything else. He had his answer. The next step was tomorrow—show up, drop off the gear, get it fixed. No need to complicate it.

But as he walked, his mind started to churn again. What was she like, really? Was she as no-nonsense as she sounded? Would she put up with his direct approach or shut him down the moment he said something too blunt? He didn’t have the answers yet, but by tomorrow, he’d find out.

For now, though, he was content with knowing exactly where he needed to be. The rest could wait.

~~~

The sound of the bell above her door echoed faintly through the quiet workshop, cutting through the ambient hum of the small candles that flickered on her workbench. Y/n's heart skipped for a moment as she quickly grabbed the towel tighter around her body, eyes darting towards the entrance. She had been so focused on finishing up her work on Red Riot’s gear that she had completely forgotten to lock the door.

With a quick glance to her window, she saw the faint snowfall continuing, blanketing the streets outside. The soft crunch of boots against the snow echoed through the building as the door creaked open, and Y/n tensed, ready to bolt upstairs to her bedroom. She didn’t need any unannounced visitors walking in while she was half-dressed.

But then she heard a familiar voice, followed by a giggle.

“Y/n! You’re in a towel again!” Eri’s voice rang through the space as the younger girl stepped inside, brushing snow off her shoulders as she entered. She was laughing softly, her breath misting in the cold air.

Y/n exhaled in relief and let out a frustrated sigh, letting her shoulders sag. “Eri! What did I tell you about knocking first?” she said, rolling her eyes as she walked toward the stairs.

Eri giggled and skipped over to the workbench, her boots leaving small, wet marks on the polished wood floor. “I knocked! But the door was open already!” she said with a smile that was both playful and mischievous. Her snow-dusted scarf hung loosely around her neck, her cheeks rosy from the cold, and her wide, curious eyes were filled with that familiar energy that made Y/n smile despite herself.

“Give me a second to change, okay?” Y/n grumbled, wrapping the towel tighter around her as she quickly ascended the stairs. She didn’t wait for a response as she disappeared into her room, quickly tossing on some old clothes that were comfortable enough to wear around the workshop but not too formal.

A few minutes later, Y/n emerged from upstairs, now in a white/tan tanktop and loose grey sweatpants that sat low on her waist. Her hair was still wet, tied back loosely in a messy ponytail, strands falling around her face as she made her way back down the stairs. Eri was still at the workbench, leaning over the table as she poked curiously at some of the small, scattered pieces of Red Riot’s gear.

"Is this Red Riot’s?" Eri asked, picking up a half-finished piece of the gauntlet and turning it over in her hands, examining it with interest. Y/n nodded as she approached, rubbing the back of her neck as she crossed the floor.

“Yeah, it is. He wanted a few adjustments, so I’ve been working on it all day. Almost done now,” Y/n replied, wiping her hands on the sides of her swestpants before coming over to help her put the piece down gently. "Careful with that, Eri. It’s delicate."

Eri grinned sheepishly and placed the part back on the workbench with a soft thud. "Sorry, I was just curious! It looks really cool though! I wanna be as good at making things as you someday," she said, her eyes full of admiration.

Y/n chuckled softly, leaning back against the counter as she watched Eri. “You’ll get there. I’m sure you’ll be better than me one day. But you’ve got to be patient. Don’t rush it,” Y/n advised. There was an edge to her voice, not harsh but firm. She had seen so many aspiring mechanics rush into things without thinking carefully first. Eri was smart, though—she had the talent, just needed some guidance.

Eri huffed and crossed her arms, pouting. “I’m 15 now! I’ve been begging Aizawa forever to let me come here by myself! He’s so protective, it’s dumb.” She dropped her gaze and kicked a small tool off the table with her foot. “But I’m older now, so he finally let me!”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned against the workbench. “Aizawa finally gave in, huh? About time.” She smirked at the thought of Aizawa’s typical overprotective nature. He had always been like that with Eri. She knew he cared, but Y/n also knew Eri was capable of more than Aizawa often gave her credit for.

“He’s so annoying sometimes,” Eri groaned, shaking her head. “Like, I’m not a baby. I can come here without him hovering. I know how to handle myself.”

“Of course you do,” Y/n said with a smile, ruffling Eri’s hair as she leaned over the workbench. “But I bet he just worries, that’s all.”

Eri rolled her eyes dramatically, then returned to inspecting the various tools scattered around the workshop. “Still, it’s lame. But at least I finally get to see what you do up close. It’s awesome,” she said with another smile.

Y/n chuckled softly, enjoying the ease of their conversation. Despite the busy atmosphere of the workshop, Eri’s presence was a welcome distraction. Y/n wasn’t used to many people coming by—except for clients, of course—but Eri always brought a certain lightness with her. Maybe it was the way she always saw the world with wonder or how she found joy in the little things. It reminded Y/n that it wasn’t just the work that mattered, but the people you shared it with.

“Alright, alright,” Y/n said, pushing off from the counter and standing up straighter. “But I better not catch you touching any more parts without asking.” She smiled at Eri’s guilty expression, watching the younger girl nod dramatically.

“I promise! I’ll just watch you finish your work,” Eri said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just happy you’re letting me hang out here.”

Y/n smiled fondly, walking over to the workbench where the nearly finished gauntlet sat. "Well, I guess you’ve earned it. Just don’t go telling Aizawa I’m spoiling you, alright?" she said with a wink.

Eri giggled in response, her voice soft and content. “I won’t, I promise. Thanks, Y/n."

With that, the two fell into an easy silence, with only the sound of Y/n's tools clinking and the faint hum of candles filling the space between them. The snow continued to fall gently outside, its quiet beauty slipping unnoticed through the windows as the night deepened.

Y/n carefully affixed the last piece of Red Riot’s gear, attaching a sleek, polished plate to the side before finishing it off with a small red star right on top. It was a small touch, but it made the entire thing feel like a gift, something that would bring warmth to the hero, especially with the holidays just around the corner. The star shimmered against the light of the candles on her workbench, a tiny beacon of celebration amidst the mechanics and technical parts.

Eri had been watching her work the entire time, her eyes wide with fascination, her hands absentmindedly fidgeting with one of the tools on the table. She had always been captivated by Y/n’s skill, the way she seemed to move through the process with such ease and precision, as if she knew exactly what each part needed without hesitation.

“Everything you do is so cool, Y/n,” Eri finally said, breaking the quiet hum of the workshop. Y/n smiled at the younger girl’s admiration, knowing it came from a place of genuine curiosity and respect. Eri wasn’t quite a little kid anymore, though. She was 15 now—growing up and gaining more independence, even if it meant finding ways to get past the overprotective Aizawa.

Eri hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting around the room before landing back on Y/n. “Hey, could you maybe ask Shota if I could sleep over? He’s always said no! I’m 15 now, and plus, you're responsible. Just maybe if I could prove to him I could do it, maybe he’d let me sleep over with my friends for once. Please, Y/n?”

Y/n glanced at her, a soft laugh escaping her lips at the sheer pleading in Eri’s voice. She already knew how Aizawa could be. The man was about as stubborn as they came, especially when it came to Eri. But there was no denying how much the young girl had grown, and how much she wanted to experience things beyond the restrictions he constantly put on her.

Y/n sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. She didn't want to get involved in something like this—it wasn't her business, after all. But she also knew the ways to approach Aizawa, the right words to say that might make him reconsider his rigid stance.

“Alright, alright. Fine,” Y/n said, her voice soft but firm. “But don’t get your hopes up too high. Aizawa’s not exactly the kind of guy to bend easily.”

Eri’s eyes lit up at the promise, and Y/n could practically see the excitement bubbling up inside her. She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Really? Oh my gosh, you’re the best, Y/n! I swear, I’ll make it worth your while!”

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “Go next door and get us some treats while I call him. A simple text won’t do the trick, and you know it. I’ll talk to him, but you’ve gotta be patient.”

Eri didn’t even need a second to think about it before she darted out the door, her footsteps light and quick as she rushed down the street. Y/n watched her go, a soft smile lingering on her lips. It was nice to see Eri so happy, so full of life. Even though she still had a lot to learn, it was clear that she had a good head on her shoulders, and a strong sense of determination.

Once Eri was out of earshot, Y/n turned back to her workbench and pulled out her phone from her pocket. She scrolled through her contacts until she found Shota’s name and tapped it.

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before she typed out a simple, but direct message:

“Hey Shota, I know you’re probably going to say no, but Eri’s been asking about a sleepover with her friends. She’s 15 now, and I think she’s old enough to handle it. You should really let her have some freedom. Just think about it, okay?”

After a brief moment of thought, she hit send. She wasn’t sure what kind of response she’d get, but she had a good feeling that Aizawa would at least give it some thought. He had a soft spot for Eri, even if he didn’t like to show it.

Y/n set her phone down and leaned back, her fingers brushing the edge of the workbench. The peaceful ambiance of the workshop seemed to wrap around her, the soft light of the candles flickering as she gazed out the window, watching the snow fall gently outside.

She had never been one to get involved in personal matters like this, but when it came to Eri, it was hard not to want to help. Y/n understood the importance of finding balance in life, of having fun and making memories. And if Eri could prove to Aizawa that she was responsible, well, maybe this time he’d allow it.

Y/n only hoped that, for once, Eri could have the simple pleasures of a normal teenager, even if just for a night.

Y/n’s thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, but then she quickly put the phone down and decided it was better to call him directly. She pressed the dial button and waited, tapping her fingers lightly against the workbench as she listened to the dial tone. She knew Aizawa well enough to know that he wouldn’t be thrilled with the interruption, especially considering how exhausted he always seemed, but she hoped he would listen.

After a few rings, he picked up, his voice groggy and a bit strained. "What is it?"

Y/n immediately felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was probably busy grading papers or dealing with his never-ending pile of work. "Hey, I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re probably up to your neck in work, but there’s something Eri’s been asking about."

He sighed on the other end, and she could almost hear the fatigue in his breath. "What is it?"

Y/n took a deep breath before speaking, choosing her words carefully. "So, Eri’s here with me right now. And she’s asking if she can sleep over. She’s 15, and I’ll be watching her the whole time. I know you’re very strict about this, but she’s a good kid, Aizawa. She really is. And eventually, she’s going to want to push those boundaries, and it might be worse if you don’t give her a little bit of trust. I know I did when I was 15."

She paused for a moment, allowing her words to settle in, but not letting the silence drag on for too long. "She was so excited when I said I’d ask you. What do you say? Just this once? I’ll keep an eye on her."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Y/n could practically hear Aizawa thinking it over. He was the type of man who didn’t make decisions lightly, especially when it came to Eri. He was fiercely protective, and even though Y/n had no doubt he trusted her, she also knew he didn’t easily give in to requests like this.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice still a bit worn, but with an underlying warmth that only Y/n would pick up on. "You’re right," he muttered. "She’s 15 now. And you’re not wrong. But don’t let her get any ideas. If this is going to work, you have to make sure she stays responsible, and nothing goes wrong."

Y/n smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. "I’ve got it covered. Thanks, Aizawa. I promise, I’ll keep her out of trouble."

"Fine. Just don’t make me regret it," Aizawa replied, his voice softening just a little.

"I won’t," Y/n assured him, already hearing the faint click of him hanging up.

She held the phone in her hand for a moment longer, just letting the quiet settle around her. She exhaled deeply, glancing at the workbench where Red Riot’s gear sat neatly finished. After a brief moment of reflection, Y/n stood up, stretching her arms above her head. That was one problem solved—now, she could relax a bit, knowing Eri would get to enjoy a sleepover for once.

As she heard the door creak open, she turned to see Eri standing in the doorway with a bag of treats in her hands, her face lighting up when she saw Y/n.

"Guess what?" Eri grinned, holding up the bag. "I got us everything we need! And, you’ll never believe it… he actually said yes, he said i could sleep over here tommorow night!"

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, nodding toward the bag of sweets in Eri’s hand. "I know. I just got off the phone with him."

Eri squealed in excitement, rushing over to sit next to Y/n. "I can’t believe it! I’m gonna text my friends right now! This is the best day ever! If my sleepover with you goes well tomorrow, then he has to let me eventually sleep over with my friends."

Y/n smiled, watching Eri's face light up. She had made a promise, and now it was time to let Eri enjoy a bit of freedom, something that she hadn’t gotten to experience much of. The small, quiet moments of joy were what made all the hard work worth it.

The soft flicker of candlelight illuminated the cozy corners of the shop, casting long shadows as the night wore on. Eri was still buzzing with excitement, chatting non-stop about her plans for tomorrow, her sleepover, and the treats they’d just eaten together. But Y/n could see the exhaustion creeping into her eyes as the clock ticked closer to 9 p.m. She was used to these late-night chats, but she also knew it was getting dangerously close to the time Aizawa had set for Eri to be home.

Y/n stretched her arms out, the weight of the long day finally catching up to her. She knew how protective Aizawa was—he’d probably be pacing at home by now, waiting for Eri to get back before the clock struck a certain hour. No matter how much Eri was pushing for a little more freedom, Y/n knew Aizawa had a point about keeping her safe and sticking to boundaries.

"Alright, kiddo," Y/n said softly, pulling herself out of her chair and stretching once more. "It’s getting late. You know how Aizawa is about the time, and I think we should get you home before he starts worrying."

Eri pouted, clearly not ready to leave just yet. "But I wanna stay longer! We were just talking about everything!"

"I know," Y/n chuckled, giving her a gentle smile, "but tomorrow’s your big day. You’ve got your sleepover to look forward to, and I’m sure Shota wouldn’t be happy if you were out too late tonight."

Eri huffed, but there was no real anger in it. She was already pulling on her boots, grabbing her coat with a sigh. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. He’d probably give me the lecture of the century."

Y/n laughed softly, nodding. "You know him well. But he’s just looking out for you."

The two of them walked toward the door, Eri still bouncing on her feet with excitement about the sleepover the next day. The snow outside had slowed to a gentle fall, the cold crisp in the air as they stepped out of the warmth of the shop. Eri dusted the snow off her shoulders before giving Y/n one last, hopeful glance.

"Thanks for everything tonight, Y/n. You’re the best," Eri said, her smile as bright as ever despite the cold.

Y/n smiled warmly, feeling the soft sting of emotion as she glanced at the girl she’d helped raise. "You’re welcome, Eri. I’m happy you had fun."

"See you tomorrow!" Eri waved as she walked down the street, the sound of her boots crunching in the snow the last thing Y/n heard before she stepped back inside.

She closed the door quietly behind her and locked it, glancing at the time once more. It was getting late, and with Eri now safely on her way home, Y/n could finally take a breath. She glanced at the workbench, the faint outline of Red Riot’s gear still resting there, finished and ready. Tomorrow would be another busy day.

But for tonight, all she wanted was to relax and unwind. She pulled off her shoes and settled on the couch, the quiet of the night wrapping around her as she thought back to everything that had happened. Eri’s smile, Aizawa’s reluctant approval, and the snow-covered streets all combined in a warm, peaceful atmosphere.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

After closing up for the night, Y/n moves through her apartment, turning off the workshop lights and heading upstairs to her bedroom. The house feels quieter now, with the snow falling gently outside and the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. She changes into comfortable pajamas, the warm fabrics a welcome end to a long day of work. Her thoughts drift back to the conversation with Eri—how happy the girl was about the sleepover, and how much she'd grown since she first came into Y/n’s life.

Y/n pulls back the covers on her bed and settles in, grabbing her phone to check for any messages before turning in. She notices a few texts from Izuku, but they’re all just casual updates, like how Aizawa is holding up or how his students are doing. She smiles, knowing how easy it is for him to worry about his friends and teammates.

As Y/n relaxes into her bed, her phone rings once again. It's Izuku’s name lighting up the screen, and she answers it without hesitation, still feeling the afterglow of a quiet evening.

"Hey, Izuku," Y/n says, settling deeper into the covers. "What’s up?"

Izuku's voice is slightly muffled, as if he’s pacing around or maybe trying to gather his thoughts. "Hey, Y/n! I just wanted to give you a quick heads-up about tomorrow. So, Bakugo and Kirishima are planning to stop by together. They’re best friends, after all, and… well, I guess it makes sense for them to come as a pair. So, it’ll be the two of them—hope that’s okay with you!"

Y/n pauses for a moment, trying to picture the scene. Bakugo, unpredictable and intense, alongside Kirishima, the more easy-going and friendly of the two. She could already sense the clash of personalities that might occur, but she had agreed to help Bakugo, and she wouldn’t back out now.

"I mean, I figured it would be one or the other," Y/n says, her voice teasing but calm. "But two? That’ll be interesting."

Izuku laughs nervously on the other end of the line. "Yeah, it’s probably going to be a bit chaotic. Bakugo can be… well, Bakugo, but Kirishima’s pretty good at keeping things balanced. I hope you don’t mind. They’re both really excited about the gear! Well Kirishima is, i dont know about Bakugo"

Y/n smirks to herself, leaning back on the pillow. "I’m sure they are. As long as I get my work done, I’ll be fine. I just don’t want to get caught in the middle of a shouting match."

Izuku chuckles, though there’s a nervous undertone. "Oh, trust me, I don’t think that’ll happen. Kirishima’s really good at keeping Bakugo in check. And if anything gets too out of hand, I’ll make sure I step in."

Y/n’s smile widens as she imagines the dynamic between the two. She could already picture Kirishima’s upbeat energy and Bakugo’s explosive attitude. It would definitely be an interesting interaction. "Alright then, it’s a date. I’ll see them tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll make it work."

"Thanks, Y/n! I really appreciate you taking this on," Izuku says, relief washing over his voice. "I’m sure they’ll be in good hands. I’ll see you tomorrow, then!"

After hanging up, Y/n lays back in bed, thoughts swirling around the upcoming encounter. Bakugo and Kirishima together in her workshop—now that was going to be something. She quickly glances over through her window, admiring the outside.

With a soft sigh, Y/n snuggles deeper into the blankets. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. She only hoped she could keep her cool when Bakugo showed up, especially with Kirishima there to keep things balanced.

---

#bnha #mha #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #mha katsuki bakugo

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