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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Note

I'm always a sucker for Todoroki and Yaoyorozu. You can use the prompt "chocolate" if you like. 😊

I kinda took liberty with the word “chocolate,” but hopefully this is still acceptable! :D It was super cute to write. Thanks for requesting!

In My Arms

The microwave had been beeping for several seconds, indicating that her glasses of milk were thoroughly warmed. Unfortunately, Momo was too busy staring blankly at the device’s black shiny surface to realize. She heaved a heavy sigh for perhaps the twentieth time that day, and in her discolored reflection in the shielded window’s surface, her lashes fluttered in a languid blink. Shoto…

The boy had been on her mind all night, and not in a pleasant way. The image of him falling to his knees, sweat pouring down his face and hands clasped in a prayer of thanks to whatever deity had spared his father’s life, was simply too visceral an image to ignore. After the news program had wrapped up the coverage of Endeavor’s battle with the Nomu, Shoto had retired to his room despite the fact it was early in the afternoon. The time was inching closer to 9 p.m., and the boy had not ventured out of his bedroom, not even when Mina called everyone for dinner. Surely he must be at least a little hungry, Momo pouted worriedly. It was then that she finally realized her milk had finished microwaving, and she opened the appliance. Two glasses of milk for hot chocolate- one for herself and one for Shoto. If he would accept it, that is.

Momo removed the jar of homemade hot cocoa powder from the cabinet then stirred generous spoonfuls into each of the ceramic mugs, followed by a spritz of vanilla extract for a homey, calming flavor. Just inhaling the fresh scent eased her nerves a little- but only a little. Careful not to burn her fingers, Momo carefully gripped the handles of the mugs and walked out of the kitchen to slowly ascend the stairs. Her lips remained drawn into a firm frown, and her anxiety mounted with every step she took.

What if he doesn’t appreciate my gesture of kindness? Oh, I don’t want him to find me insensitive or annoying, she fretted as she rounded the landing. It was a good thing she could operate from muscle memory, for her mind was whirling. What if it’s too hot and it scalds him? At that worrying thought, she compulsively blew on both mugs a few times to cool the surface layer of thick, creamy liquid. Or what if it’s not hot enough? Momo doubted it, from the thin white wisps of steam curling above her fingers, but it wasn’t like her mind was willing to listen to reason. She even debated scurrying back down the steps to pop them in the microwave for another thirty seconds or so; she didn’t, but only because she had arrived at Shoto’s room. She inhaled sharply to steel her nerves before knocking on the door with one of her sock-covered feet.

“Shoto? I brought you some hot chocolate. I thought you might like some,” she called buoyantly. There was no sound for a few seconds, so she wondered if he had fallen asleep. “Shoto?” she repeated, though more softly just in case he actually was slumbering. This time, she distinctly heard the creaking of bedsprings. Oh no! I did wake him up! she panicked. If her hands were not occupied with the two mugs, she probably would’ve started chewing on her nails. She fidgeted, unsure what she should do to amend her rudeness, and Shoto cracked the door open. She fell still as his heterochromatic eyes regarded the steaming mug of hot cocoa uninterestedly. Well, to Momo, he seemed indifferent, but who could tell with his usually aloof demeanor? She gulped loudly before pushing it towards him. “… It’s warm. I just made it.” Her voice was soft, like she was coaxing a stray dog to accept her affections. That’s certainly what it felt like with the way Shoto ever-so-slightly backed away from her extended arm. He did not retreat fully, however. After a few tense seconds, he took the cup from her. An electric jolt traveled up Momo’s arm as his fingertips brushed against hers.

“Thank you.” His eyes flickered up to meet hers, and Momo wanted to start crying then and there with how miserable he appeared. Dark circles ringed his grey-and-blue eyes, and his entire face sagged with weariness. His bi-colored hair was disheveled and sticking up in odd places, like he had been tossing and turning in a fever fit. Shoto must have thought she was waiting for him to try it with how she stood there, studying him in mounting concern, so he brought the mug to his lips and sipped. His gaze never left hers. “It’s good,” he offered cajolingly.

“O-oh,” she stammered, because replying was the right thing to do, her sparking brain recalled. “Thank you. I suppose… I shall be going.” Momo hesitated to finish the statement because she did not want to leave, not with how terrible Shoto looked. Social decorum dictated, however, that she be respectful of his boundaries- no matter how badly she wanted to comfort him.

As she turned on her heel, his other hand darted out to catch her elbow in a light and almost fearful touch. Momo felt that crackling electricity shoot up her limb again, this time coursing into the muscles of her neck and making them spasm. Momo obediently halted, glancing down at the hand delicately gripping her arm and then up at him. He was looking away from her now, frowning frustratedly and blushing with slight embarrassment.

“Momo, I… Please stay with me.”

She could not help but release a startled squeak. Blood rushed to her face, dying it the hue of rose tea. Despite her mortification at the blunt request, Momo had no intention of refusing. Shoto was staring at her so pleadingly, so brokenly, that it was liable to break her heart. His fingers tensed around her elbow in silent begging. Please, his eyes implored, I don’t want to be alone.

“Of course I will.” Her face relaxed into a soft smile, and she reached around to brush his knuckles gently. His hand slipped from her arm only to entreatingly grasp her fingers. His intense gaze remained on her face as he stepped back into his bedroom. His fingers curled around hers, and he tugged on her arm to guide her through the doorway. Momo allowed him to puppeteer her body as he wished. She sucked in a small breath when he leaned in to shut the door. His chest bumped against hers, making her flush. He must have seen the redness blooming over her cheeks because he retreated quickly and muttered, “Sorry.”

He gasped the ceramic mug in both hands and seated himself on the edge of the bed. Momo stood awkwardly in the center of the room for a moment, unsure how exactly to go about comforting the reserved boy. After a few moments of consideration, she eased herself down onto the mattress beside him, with a good nine inches of space for comforting closeness that did not override respectable boundaries. “Shoto,” she frowned as he sipped wordlessly at the chocolate beverage. “Are you all right?”

“I’m just confused; that’s all,” he responded honestly. Momo breathed a small sigh of relief; at least he was forthcoming. She wasn’t sure if she had the willpower to pry his troubles out of him. His two-colored gaze flickered to her before fixating on the creamy brown mixture below. “I’ve always despised my father for the awful things he did to the rest of my family and me. Yet, watching him fight for his life on that screen today… The only thing I kept thinking was ‘Please don’t die.’”

Momo tutted understandingly and reached up to tuck a loose chunk of his white hair behind his ear, because that felt like the right thing to do. Shoto didn’t flinch or reprimand her, and even leaned a little into her caress, making her knuckles bump against his cheekbone. His gaze was bitter and ashamed as he watched small bubbles pop one by one on the hot chocolate’s surface. “I almost feel like I’ve betrayed my brothers, sister, and mother by not wishing him dead.”

“Shoto,” she breathed and pressed a little closer to him and went to rest a hand on his knee. She faltered though, leaving her hand hanging in midair, because she was afraid that she was crossing a line. He looked down at her hand, and then he shifted his leg to seek her comforting touch, making their knees bump. Following the silent cue, she placed her hand on his leg and another on his upper back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. “Even with all the things your father has done, it is not shameful of you to pray for his life. You are a kind and wonderful person who’s aspiring to be a hero. Frankly, I would be more worried if you had wished him dead.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, and he peered at her out of his periphery. She smiled kindly and lifted her hand to stroke once over his hair. Her heart fluttered as he rolled his head a little to press against her palm. His eyes were like a blizzard and a storm, pulsing with energy as he regarded her. “There is no right or wrong way to respond to the trauma you’ve suffered,” she explained softly, “and however you respond to it is valid. You can forgive him, or you can’t. You can recognize his attempts to change, or you can’t. You have the right to heal and process how you wish.”

“Thanks, Yaoyorozu.” His voice cracked with the small utterance, and even with how downcast his head was, she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought back the tears. Momo gently clucked her tongue and eliminated the few inches of space left between them, hugging him into her side and pulled his head onto her shoulder. He willingly sought out her embrace, burying his face into her neck. His hot breath and his cold tears tingled her nerves, but she ignored the peculiar sensation, focusing her energy into soothingly stroking his two-toned hair.

“Of course. I’m here for you anytime, Shoto. There’s no shame in asking for help either, you know.” His entire body was trembling with barely-suppressed sobs, so he only nodded weakly in response. The hot chocolate writhing in the mug as his hand wracked with tremors, so Momo gently took it and set it on the bed behind her alongside her cup before wrapping both her arms around him in a firm hug. His hands pawed into her woolen sweater as he finally broke, releasing a choking sob. “It’s okay,” she shushed him as he groaned in frustrated agony. “I don’t judge you. We all need to cry sometimes.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his. “You take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Shoto choked out deep, agonized sobs now and then, but he primarily cried silently. The thick collar of her sweater soon dampened with his tears and felt clumpy against her collarbone, but she hardly minded or even noticed. He painted the skin of her neck with salt and water, a portrait of misery and trauma long overdue. He was so touch-starved and desperate for comfort that he slung his leg over hers at one point and almost climbed into her lap, unbalancing her with his superior weight. Momo made the quick decision to set the mugs of hot chocolate on the nightstand and lay down on the bed, allowing him to climb on top of her and bury his face back into her neck. It was a bit awkward and hard to breathe with his muscular bulk, and her face burned with the implications, but Shoto had no ulterior motives in mind. He wanted love and affirmation, and she was the only one there to give it. She would yield that, gladly.

His muffles sniffles gradually quieted into deep breaths. Momo had taken to idly running her fingers over his spine and into his hair and back again. “Do you feel better?” she asked him. He groaned a little under his breath and pushed himself up onto his forearms, blinking at her with bleary, watery red eyes. His gaze then dropped, and a pink haze appeared on his cheeks.

“… Much,” he admitted in a small voice. Momo giggled and cupped his face in her hands, making him blush further.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“This is a pretty embarrassing position we’re in. I’m surprised you’re not embarrassed.” Truthfully, Momo had been too busy soothing the boy to pay much attention, but he was right. His thigh was lodged between hers, and his entire weight draped over her left side, chest-to-chest. Her face blazed with a sudden pink fire, and he narrowed his eyes. “I knew it,” he sighed and moved to get up. For reasons she couldn’t process at the moment, her hands snapped to his biceps to dig in and hold him in place.

“N-no! I’m all right! Really!” she squeaked in protest. His eyebrows shot up to the roots of his hair, and he regarded her bewilderedly. Her eyes rolled in their sockets, not settling on any one thing for more than a second, while she pitifully attempted to voice her scattered thoughts. “I-I mean, we’re friends, right? Some platonic cuddling is good bonding! N-not that this was about the cuddling, of course. I just wanted to make you feel better, a-a-and I just don’t know how to comfort someone without, you know, t-t-touching and h-holding…” The more she blathered explanations, the more mortified she felt, and her face took on the hue of an apple. When she finally looked back at him, he was smiling widely in amusement.

“So… you won’t mind if I do this?”

All the breath was knocked out of her lungs in a whistling wheeze as he flopped down on her.

“Shotooooo,” she groaned as her chest muscles tightened under strain, and she could feel his body rumble as he chuckled. He propped his cheek into his hand and grinned mischievously at her, to which she responded with a babyish pout. She gasped when he suddenly stroked her cheek with the backs of his index and middle fingers, ever so softly.

“Thank you, Yaoyorozu. I mean it.”

She smiled warmly at him and tilted her head a little, her black hair falling over his pillow.

“Anytime.” She frowned thoughtfully and then grinned. “You know, considering we’re…” she gestured generically at their current position, “you can call me Momo.” He snorted with laughter and then nodded.

“Of course… Momo.” Something about the way he whispered her name sent pleasurable tingles propagating all through her nerves, lighting her up with invisible fireworks. His eyes searched her face, studying it intently like he wished to memorize every nuance. Momo knew not what to do about it, so she remained still, breathlessly watching his heterochromatic eyes roam over her flushed face. After what seemed like hours, his wandering gaze settled on her lips. Without looking away, he quietly asked, “Momo… Can I…?” He did not finish his sentence, but she knew what he was asking, nevertheless. She responded with a tiny nod, and her breath stalled in her lungs in anticipation.

Balancing himself on his elbows, he descended over her to press their lips together in a sweet, virtuous kiss. Momo tilted her head slightly, allowing his lips to mold over hers; it felt so natural, the way they fell into place, like they were two halves of the same whole. He held the kiss for several heart-pounding moments before pulling back, brushing the tip of his nose along hers as he did so. Momo compulsively swallowed and licked her lips, tasting the very faint hints of hot chocolate he left behind. Shoto smiled affectionately and ran his hands through her fluffy black hair. “I suppose you should get going before the others get curious.”

“I could,” she supposed, “but I’m not sure I want to.” Shoto blushed at that, looking at the two half-drunken mugs of now cold chocolate. He then looked back to her, and she turned her head to display the curve of her neck invitingly. His eyes flashed roguishly before he grinned and buried his face there, his chest swelling as he inhaled her scent. Momo wrapped her arms around his middle and closed her eyes contentedly. She savored the rise and fall of his chest, the puffs of his breath against her skin, and his fingertips trailing down her curves. Momo knew she was well over the line of propriety and decorum, but she didn’t care much.

I’ll hold you in my arms forever, if that’s what it takes for you to heal, she thought as she drifted into the pleasant twilight of half-sleep. Here with me, you will always be safe and loved.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork, @simplybakugou, @sadistiks, @wesparklebitch

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mtab2260 · 3 years

Text

I was eating cereal this morning and while staring at the box this idea popped in my head. I couldn't stop laughing about it... So I made this scene four seasons ahead.

Turbine Addition.

Takes place before they head out in episode five, season seven.

"Hey Daisy, you want some Quake..."

Daisy raised an eyebrow as she walked further into the small kitchenette on the Zephyr. Lukian barely held back his grin as he finished the sentence.

"-erSquares for breakfast?" He was looking pointly to the cereal box that was left on the counter.

'Hilarious," Daisy rolled her eyes. She opened the fridge scanned for five seconds then turned back to glare at the teen. "Please don't tell me you used the last of the milk."

He didn't even look sorry about it, the bastard.

"Don't worry, I won't tell you."

"Ass," She muttered.

She'll just have to suck it up and have oatmeal with hot water as a replacement. It wasn't terrible-- but she preferred milk, all these years with a stocked SHIELD pantry made her soft.

Lukian took another bite of his oatmeal. "You do know milk's like a dollar right now, right? Simmons said it was 1973."

"And have a Chronicom ruin my breakfast?" Daisy questioned. "No thanks." She continued to make her second-rate breakfast.

A small clank at the doorway caught her attention instead.

There stood Daniel Sousa, cane and all-- looking oh-so out of place in the modern kitchen.

Daisy kinda froze as she stared at him, her newly-made breakfast forgotten and not because the man was a legend and had 'died' like thirty years before she was born. She wasn't sure why she froze. She was trained by May, she never froze, not anymore. But if Daisy had to say, his SHIELD file photo did nothing for him. The man's heartbeat was fast and for some reason Daisy found it so comforting. Which didn't really make sense either since they weren't in danger and he wasn't injured. Agent Sousa's completely perplexed expression as he looked around was almost--

"Mornin'" Luke greeted, pulling Daisy out of her reserve.

Sousa's eyes still scanned the room as he responded. "Yeah..."

Daisy half turned backwards to exchange a glance with Lukian, the amusement was swimming in his eyes. But for some reason she had a feeling it wasn't just pointed at the new guy.

"You doin' alright there, agent Sousa?" He asked.

"Just peachy,"

He looked more fazed now then when they brought him onto the Zephyr for the first time. Lukian got up, seeming to make himself yet another bowl of oatmeal. "Do you want some coffee?" He asked.

Agent Sousa's head snapped to the kid. "You drink coffee?"

Lukian rolled his eyes. "Mc. Starry, Robo, and Dr. Uptight won't let me." May, Coulson, Simmons-- Daisy guessed. "Yo-Yo made it like five minutes ago when she came by. It's in that pot over there, it's still hot. The air molecules are on red-bulls."

Sousa nodded slowly, not really knowing what to make of the nicknames-- or that last statement. He still however, made his was towards the familiar steaming pot. But the 1950s agent got lost again when looking around for a mug. Daisy grabbed one from of the hook in the cabinet above her.

"Here,"

He nodded in appreciation. "Thanks,"

Daisy picked up her own bowl of oatmeal and made her way to the exact seat Luke was just sitting at. He glared at her as he put more oatmeal in his bowl then put the quick oatmeal packets and cereal box away in separate cabinets.

She shrugged and took a watery bite. "You snooze, you lose."

The exact moment mischief sparked in his eyes she knew it wasn't good, barely a second later it was gone as he made his way towards the fridge. Daisy watched (and so with Agent Sousa) Lukian reach into the very back of the fridge and pull out the damn carton of milk.

"Are you freaking serious?"

"You snooze, you lose." He mocked as he held up the carton and poured the very last of it into his bowl. "Also you looked for like five seconds, that's your fault."

Before Daisy could call him an ass again, Sousa spoke up. "Is that an Ice-box?" He questioned, indicating the stainless steel appliance.

Luke froze at the old terminology and furrowed his brows.

"He means refrigerator, you whippersnapper." Daisy teased pointing her spoon at the boy.

"Yeah that," Sousa nodded.

"To answer your question, Agent Sousa:" Daisy said. "Yes."

"Wow,"

"I'm sure it hasn't changed that much." Daisy stated.

"No, it hasn't," He agreed. "But it's still impressive you have one on a plane."

"Well it's not really a plane anymore," Lukian sat down again. "It's more of a spaceship now. FitzSimmons made some major adjustments since I've seen it last."

Daisy had to agree, the Zephyr felt different somehow. The homier parts felt homier and the everything else felt more industrialized. Like the fancy new lab that popped up out of nowhere.

"Hey, um.... what do you guys have to eat-- here?" Agent Sousa inquired, looking like a small child.

Daisy couldn't help but chuckle as she got up again. "What do you want? We have oatmeal-- with hot water, dry cereal, eggs-- although that might take too long. Mack wants us down for briefing in--"

Agent Sousa clearly overwhelmed already, asked. "Do you have toast?" He asked simply.

Before Daisy could answer, Lukian jumped in. "No, we only have bread here."

Daisy glared at him briefly, then turned back to Sousa. "Yes, we have toast." She smiled at him then went to grab the bread. "You might want to get the stick of butter out of fridge, pop it in the microwave for like ten seconds, or something-- unless you'll just have a block of butter sitting on one spot of your toast."

"You don't have a butter conditioner?" Sousa's question made her freeze (again).

She turned to him, bemused. "A what?"

"A butter conditioner." He repeated. "It's a small compartment for butter in the fridge with a heater to keep it soft."

Daisy's mouth was open, unsure of what to say really. So she just took out two slices for Sousa instead.

Luke however, just laughed. "Who invented that? What's the point of putting a heater inside of a insulated, cooled, fridge? It completely contradicts everything."

Sousa huffed slightly. "Well I never said it worked well."

Daisy smiled. "Yeah, we don't have that, Mr. Square. But I'm sure we have spreadable butter in there." Daisy turned to Lukian again. "Hey where did you put the oatmeal packets? Better to just make more while I'm up."

"Left cabinet,"

"Thanks."

"The hot water is in the corner too."

"Shush."

Lukian chuckled slightly from his seat.

Daisy searched the cabinet and only found the cereal box. FitzSimmons really didn't stock up that much, had they? Or did they just eat it all so fast? Didn't matter, they probably had more in storage.

She held up the box in front of her, looking pointingly at her teammate.

"QuakerSquares?" Daniel read the box. "I didn't know they made a cereal."

Daisy looked at the box too. "Apparently they came out 1915," She smiled at the man out of time. "So right in your time, Agent Sousa."

Lukian was looking at her with a weird expression on his face, it looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle. However, it was quickly replaced when he glanced at the box himself-- the puzzle was now solved. Lukian was suddenly sniffling laughter, completely unable to control himself.

"What?" Daisy questioned, very confused. She honestly had no clue what he was going on about, she glanced at the box again to see what she was missing. Still no idea.

"Nothing," He lied cooly-- seeming some control, but Daisy knew better. "I just, gotta go find Mack-- ask him something."

Daisy narrowed her eyes at Lukian as he left the room with a (oldly) knowing smirk and small very muffled laughter.

Dan-- Sousa looked at her. "Any idea what that was about?"

"No, but it's never anything good." Daisy stated. "Especially since that was his: I'm going to make a bet and win grin." Daisy sighed, willing herself to forget about it as she looked around the kitchen again. "Damn, where did he put the packets?"

#dousy #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #Turbineaddition #aos fanfic #agents of shield #quakersquares #man out of time #quake #aos season 7

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dearest-kibble · 4 years

Note

Can I get a headcanon of Yandere Bakugou and Mirio?

Ok!! Gosh it has taken me far to long to get this done, General headcanons lets seeeeee I assume you mean separate but oh.,,, they'd be an interesting duo now that i think about it hmmmm,,

Likes to hear how great he is this goes for everyone but,

He gets a special kick hearing it from you.

Now Bakugou is the sort of person to jump the gun on may things. He’s capable of strategizing on the spot, leading to him not caring about making what most deem to be “Impulsive decisions.”

This is more unfortunate for you than most other people.

It’s as if when he even gets wind that someone even remotely dangerous really, what was Shouto going to do, beat you to death? He just has to make sure you’re alright.

It started with looking over you an unnerving amount as red eyes looked you up and down. Looking for a scuff mark or worse, a bruise.

He’d always yell at you for it.

Blame it on the fact that you were always so, so weak.

really, you should just let him take care of you. It’d be easier for everyone involved.

You always refused his offers of “protection” You were in class 1-A of the hero course for a reason thank you very much.

His hands would pop and spark as he growled a little under his breath.

Eventually it would escalate, far to quickly for your taste.

You might could deal with him yelling at you, (he yells at everyone, even Kirishima) you could deal with him staring at you, that just happens sometimes, people stare. And who’s to say he wasn’t just zoning out? Bakugou doesn’t zone out.

So,

You continue to learn and grow at your own rate, paying little attention to Bakugou’s behavior, (really he’s a little strange to everyone) and laughing it off with your friends.

Of course, they notice.

They notice that Bakugou seems a little extra angry when you refuse his protection. How he cusses just a little more when it’s you who gets hurt in a training exercise.

They start to laugh a little less when you talk about how “Bakugou was staring at my arm again. I mean, I know i had a gash there a while back, but it’s healed now!” and start to wonder just why a hormonal, teenage boy, was staring at your arm rather than anything else.

Eventually he starts to stay near you during training exercises, even when you told him you were fine.

“Like hell you are, are you such a shitty hero that you don’t even notice when you’d need to call for backup?”

“Nah, I can handle myself you know, i’m able to take a few hits!”

“You fucking can’t, if that gash you had in your arm was anything to go by.”

You choose to just ignore him.

This is the wrong call apparently.

If him taking you home and locking you in a room was anything to go by.

It seems that he’s made a pretty difficult situation for you, even if he wasn’t prepared for it at all.

You’re stuck in his dorm room, which clearly was not made or decorated to host two people.

It occurs to you that, you didn’t really know how you got here?

He must’ve caught you sleeping. It probably wasn’t that hard, an unfortunate drawback of your quirk.

Still, you were a hero, and you could get out of this.

If it wasn’t for your goddamn quirk.

Incredible power, at the expense of feeling just a tad drained.

So, here you are sitting in Bakugou’s room.

It’s an odd place, full of cushions and much softer things than you would've expected the guy who wanted to name himself “Lord Explosion Murder” would’ve had.

(And oh shit these were supposed to be general headcanons im so sorry)

He’s standing in his room, preparing some microwave food when you realize that you can’t even move your mouth.

That wasn’t a by product of your quirk.

Your mouth felt numb, you are unable to do much but wiggle your tongue in a mouth that cannot feel.

You try humming.

“Yeah yeah.” He huffs. “I hear ya. Foods’ done in a bit.” He sounds so nonchalant. So indifferent to the fact that you are sitting on his bed.

“It’s a shit meal tonight, no fire in the dorm. That shit’s dangerous for you.” and not to you?

It’s stifling the way he spoon feeds you a cup of water that is almost to cold to be any good. You suppose the spoon is necessary given that your mouth won’t move on its own. Still, you glare at him, giving him a good ol’ hero-stares-down-the-villain looks.

He laughs, it’s the big raucous kind that you hear when he’s around Kirishima.

“You’re fuckin adorable when you glare like that.” He wipes at his eyes, “Oh yeah, I’m just shitting my pants over here. If I were a villain, I’d be fucking terrified.” He has to take a few breaths of air before he can speak again. “S’why I gotta protect you.” And it hits you that it wasn’t just Bakugou being weird like with the rest of his classmates. He meant what he said. every word.

It doesn’t matter, you’re a hero.

You would escape.

You can’t stay numb forever.

(So onto actual headcannons)

Bakugou is a very protective boy, a bit of a bully and will absolutely drug you into submission if he thinks it’s the best way to keep you safe.

He has control issues (Like so many yanderes i seem to write for.) and wants to feel like he’s control of the entire “you” situation.

He loves and lives to keep you locked up with him, any bruise that you get and little paper cut? You bet your ass thats getting kissed and bandaged by him.

The kiss only comes after he’s yelled at you for being dumb and that you should’ve known that you would get hurt.

But the kiss after?

It’s soft and sweet in a way Katsuki Bakugou should never have been able to manage.

He also doesn’t cook around you, doesn’t allow you near almost any electrical appliance and he feels like he has to either baby proof his dorm/apartment or regulate you to one room unless you’re with him. You are only safe with him and no one else should really be near you.

You want to go outside again?

It’ll never happen.

Mirio isn’t completely delusional.

He doesn’t think you two are dating before you takes you to his apartment, by which point,

You two are actually married.

It doesn’t matter if no one was there for the wedding and if he didn’t get you a ring.

He knows.

And there’s no chance in at least a million that you don’t know it too.

The way he calls you “Wifey” and “Doll” and “Honey” all while your wearing the most recent apron? Oh yeah you two are married.

He just doesn’t get why you’re so against the idea of cooking for him or sleeping in the same bed. Sure it’s a little nerve wracking and it’s probably just newly-wed jitters. But it hurts a little when you insist that you take the couch and he takes the bed.

He’d bring up the topic of children multiple times. Adopting or sex? Both work. But you two haven’t been on your honeymoon yet and he can’t wait, cannot fucking wait, to see you out of that akimpy little apron that he bought you.

Not that he doesn’t just love watching you cook in it.

But marriage is about more than just looking.

And he was plenty of tired of just looking.

He likes to try and dance with you, to put his hands on your hips as you cook and clean and do all your spously duties.

He always put on reccords too.

Something about reccords makes everything feel more romantic and he can’t help, but to see you sway to music and think how he’d love to relive your first dance all over again.

“What first dance?”

Well now he has too.

You were vacuuming at the time, you have to turn it off before you even here him talk about your first dance. (It never happened)

You can only nod dumbly and he laughs at your forgetfulness.

“It’s adorable sweetie, here, let me just,” He tugs at your hips, pulling you into your chest as you squeal. You forget how strong he is sometimes.

He turns you around and places one large hand on your shoulder, the other is gentlely clasped in your other.

“It was a waltz, remeber?” It’s the Blue Danube. You’d never heard a classical record before. It must be new.

“Oh, yes.” You sound a little numb. “I remember!” It sounds almost like your protesting when he gives a quizzical look with his bright blue eyes.

He taps the counts on your shoulder, each finger a different beat.

He’s an excellent dancer, you are much less coordinated.

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“We haven’t taken out honeymoon yet, where would you like to go?” You suppose a honeymoon was never arranged. (Maybe it’s because you were never married.)

“I don’t know, where do you think would be nice?” You smile up at Mirio. His eyes haven’t left your face since you started cleaning.

“I think that Paris would be nice, don’t you? Plenty for us to do!”

“Paris would be lovely Mirio.” And you press a kiss to his jaw.

You can hear his breath hitch as you lean into his chest.

“Honey,” he sounded so happy. “Honey I love you.”

It’s a one in a million chance that Mirio Togata found you amoungst a crowd of civilians. You could stand to make the most of it.

“I love you too Mirio.” You take your hands away from his for only a moment before wrapping them around his broad chest.

“I can’t wait to go to Paris with you.”

You think you mean it.

- -

A/n (oh yeah there's a (very dumb) pun in each of these hcs. what do you take me for, a simpleton? These also got away from me and i legit forgot what i was writing. I don’t know the difference between general has and just “when the yandere kidnaps their darling im so sorry if it’s not what you wanted i try to fix it in Mirio’s section though. Katsuki is just my weakness i am such a simp.) thank you @popsicledrop for putting up with how long it took to get these out! I am so happy i got to write for these bois and maybe one day i will make a poly scenario because now that i have that idea 👀👀 thank you for reading! Have a nice day!

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