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shibaraki · 15 days

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OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. You wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your smile. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way back is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m home,” he says, throat rough from disuse.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #q’d

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azaarchiive · 11 days

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yk what i keep thinking about?

pro hero izuku that has changed a shit ton since middle school, you remember his shy demeanour and his cute personality. you had a little crush on him back then and helped him from bullies when you could since izuku really couldn’t defend himself back then.

after you both graduated, you never saw him face to face, sure you’ve seen him a little on TV but never payed that much attention to him. esp since you are a doctor now that literally on duty almost everyday so there wasn’t much time to ogle at your middle school crush

then, the hospital gets raided by villains and everyone gets held hostage, luckily dynamite, red crimson and deku are here to help!

you get carried out by deku, which is there where you get a better look at him and lord of mercy.

he looks roughed up and you never knew that was a thing you had until now.

looking at him, cuts on his face, his nose slightly bleeding, a serious expression on his face, his muscles literally begging to be released from his tight hero suit, his taller frame and beat of all, his head band to keep his hair out of his face.

you couldn’t… you really couldn’t.

he sets you down and unties you, asking if you’re ok but you can barely respond because when the fuck did his voice get so fucking deep??

he goes off, fights the villains and all you and your colleagues watch those heros defeat those villains in awe because those three together were a dangerous combination for single women.

those three come back and you all thank them tremendously.

izu gives a speech about how it’s just what they do or whatever, you really couldn’t concentrate because his smile is even more angelic and his freckles are just so beautiful.

your friend tells you it’s so obvious that you’re staring at him and to stop because the media is probably making a meme out of you but you don’t care. if you take your eyes off of him, it feels like he’s going to turn into a succubus at this point.

you take your shot and ask if you could heal him, your quirk enabling you to do this.

you take him to the ambulance van, away from prying eyes as you friends cheer you on and the two other hero’s teasing him.

you make some lie about how your quirk works better with skin to skin contact, he’s ever so understanding and takes off his suit to reveals the whole of torso.

and fuck me is he BUFF

scars littered everywhere across his body, freckles are adorning his body and your salivating at the mouth.

you quickly put your hands on him, longing out the process by feeling him up everywhere and muttering some random medical shit that you know he wouldn’t get.

he’s just looking at you skeptically, but you couldn’t see him anyways as your eyes are closed.

but he just allows you to have your moment.

you just keep going while he keeps looking at you and after a fat 2 mins of this, he just says your name

your surprised he remembers you so you just look at him just for him to say sum shit like

“if you want something else to feel, that can easily be done.” while leaning back and smirking so seductively

And you’re just shocked bc when the hell did he get this confidence??? like actually??

you’re getting hella flustered

and he’s just looking at you

and your like “fuck it sure”

after like 15 mins (head cannon that izu loves his quickies) you both come out and he’s like “thanks for healing me” and your like “no problem” playing it off in front of everyone

while literally everyone else is looking at you guys shocked because it’s not like you both were quiet (izuku made sure of that)

katsuki is hell bent on proving you both fucked but izu is a scarily good liar

so they go off and all your colleagues are literally begging for details about what happened but you don’t spill a thinggg

you feel something weird in your bra however and realised that izuku literally put his business card there, that’s sly bastard.

should i write this up? 😝

#authors #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha drabbles #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha #izuku midoriya #mha izuku #bnha izuku #izuku x reader #izuku mydoria #izuku midoria x reader #mha midoriya #midoriya x reader

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slayfics · 3 months

Text

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter twelve: You make a plan to rescue Katsuki.

Chapter links

You lay in bed feeling numb. Nothing was more excruciating than just waiting around for news of the pros locating Katsuki. The villains had successfully kidnapped him and injured plenty of others.

You rustled around in bed unsuccessfully trying to get comfortable when your phone lit up with a message from Eijiro.

Meet me at the hospital. I have something I want to talk to the class about.

You left right away glad for a distraction to pull you out of your relentless rumination. You couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if you tried harder to convince Eijiro that day to escape the classroom with you and help Katsuki.

Eijiro had let you know to meet the rest of the class in Izuku's room in the hospital. When you arrived almost the whole class was there.

Eijiro had begun to tell the class about the conversation he and Shoto heard Momo have with All Might. She had placed a tracker on one of the villains. Eijiro's idea was for Momo to make another tracking device so the class could follow it to find the villains and Katsuki.

The class erupted with conflicting opinions. Tenya instantly shot down Eijiro's idea, scolding him for even thinking about it.

"This is a matter for the pros! This is not a situation for students like us to be meddling!" Tenya yelled to Eijiro.

"Damn it man I know that already! But still hearing that our friend was being targeted and I couldn't do anything! I didn't do anything!" Eijiro yelled the frustration clear on his face.

You hadn't realized he was regretting not going after Katsuki just as much as you were.

Arguing ensued until the class was kicked out into the hallway so the doctor could tend to Izuku. You stood in the hall as your classmates continued to argue about the plan. You couldn't help but feel this plan was what you had been waiting for. It felt like a sliver of hope in the uselessness you had been feeling since the trip.

You felt your anger begin to rise any time a classmate gave another excuse about why you shouldn't go. You couldn't help but wonder if someone else had been kidnapped would the conversation have been different? Would everyone agree and rush to the rescue if it had been another classmate?

Everyone but Eijiro had made it clear they held disdain for Katsuki's temperament. It felt like it was you and Eijiro arguing your side against the whole class.

"I don't know- think about it guys, is that really what Bakugo would want?" Ochaco asked.

You finally felt yourself snap, "How the fuck would you know what Bakugo wants? Why don't you all grow some balls and just say you don't care about him! If this was Deku instead would you really be saying that right now Uraraka?" You said stepping closer to Ochaco.

Your classmate's eyes widened with shock and confusion at your sudden intensity.

"This isn't a time to turn on each other," Todoroki said as Eijiro made a move to pull you back from Ochaco. "Those of us that want to go, meet outside the hospital later tonight, ok?" He spoke ending the argument between the class.

Your classmates began to disperse from one another making their way back home. You felt the tension in your body ease up at hearing Shoto was in agreement with searching for Katsuki.

The three of you stood outside the hospital.

"Let's get whatever we need for tonight and meet back up here in a few hours. Sound good?" Eijiro said.

"See you both back here later then," Shoto said and departed.

"Kirishima, did Yaoyorozu really say she was up for your plan?"

"Well not exactly, she said she would think about it... but if there's a chance we have to take it right !? I know you understand."

"Of course, without a second thought. I can't rest at all thinking about what Bakugo might be going through right now," You replied.

"Yeah... I uh- I'm really sorry I talked you out of your plan trying to get us both past Vlad... maybe if we had-" Eijiro began to say.

"Don't. Don't think about it anymore, Kirishima. We're doing what we can now, that's what matters," You replied.

"Yeah! right!" He said, shaking his head a bit trying to stay focused.

"I'll see you back here soon ok? I don't care what those others have to say. If it ends up being just you and me then fine we'll do what we have to."

Eijiro nodded in agreement, "I uh- can't help but wonder about what you said back there. If it was someone else that had been captured instead of Bakugo... Would they still react the same? I suppose it doesn't matter, what I do know is you and I see him as a friend, so I agree! Even if it's just you and me we will go! See you then!" Eijiro waved and made his way off.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle

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justauthoring · 1 year

Text

absquatulate.

prompt: can we get some angst to fluff Mitsuki comforting bakugo's girlfriend as they’re waiting for his results when she’s angry/crying she wasn’t strong enough to protect him in their fight with shigaraki in season 6? or *absquatulate: to leave without saying goodbye

a/n: i love him so much pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader word count: 1,198

Knuckles white with worry, you felt sick to your stomach.

You’d shoved away every attempt at the nurses who professed they needed to take a look at your injuries – to make sure it wasn’t anything serious. You didn’t care about any of it. It felt as if you hadn’t been able to take a single proper breath since you’d seen him like… like that. Blood pooling around him, a gaping hole in the middle of him, skin sick with sweat as he took laboring breaths.

Being a hero, you’d seen people hurt enough to know what it looked like. It had happened to you enough to know how it felt. Burns and bruises, you have scars across your body as a constant reminder of what you’d endured and what you were working towards. Any look at any of your classmates and they all had the same.

But this was different because nothing from the beginning of this mission had gone in any way anyone had expected. Nothing had gone to plan – not only had you failed to capture Shigaraki and more than half of the League of Villains, so many people had been hurt. People… people had died… Midnight-sensei and so many innocent civilians. Children orphaned, parents who’d lost their children, a wife who’d lost her husband. You’d seen it all. Had to pull little kids out from under rumble and hold bleeding wounds from the elderly.

If that hadn’t been enough to scare you – when you’d finally found Bakugou after having been separated from him at the beginning, he was… he was everything and more.

You’re ashamed to admit that you’d lost your cool.

Tears poured from your cheeks, screams of plea leaving your lips as he laid before you, so still you didn’t know if he was okay. If he was alive. Your mind had lost itself to the fear of losing him and you’d forgotten all rational sense, Iida practically having to pry you off of Bakugou so that the nurses could pull him away.

A few hours later and you were still waiting at the hospital to hear if he was okay.

Deku and Shoto were here too, and Aizawa-sensei. All of Class 1-A and most, if not all of Class 1-B were as well. They were scattered amongst the halls, Shoto and Deku had woken up so a few of them were in their rooms visiting. You wanted to, but you felt sick at the thought of leaving your spot in case any news came of Bakugou. You… You needed to be here when it happened, when he hopefully woke up.

Mitsuki had been by your side almost the entire time, and even though you’ve only met the woman a handful of times since your relationship with Bakugou had started, you found comfort in having her close. Masaru was, of course, here as well, sitting next to his wife while the two held onto each other. Masaru looked sick, skin incredibly pale and a look on his face that was unreadable but you felt you understood it well enough. His leg was pouncing in worry, digging holes into the palms of his hands.

All while Mitsuki sat next to you, incredibly still. She refused to say anything, and she’d hardly moved since she first sat down. You could only imagine what she felt.

Until a doctor had called the both of them into his room, and you hadn’t seen them for twenty minutes since. You hadn’t realized how much their presence had helped calm you, and knowing that whatever the doctor had had to say was an update on Bakugou made you even more anxious. Was it bad? Was… was Bakugou okay? There was no way for you to know and it was eating you alive, the not knowing, the waiting.

Of course everything will be okay.

You and I, we’ll be fine like we always are.

His words repeat in your mind like a mantra. The last words he’d said to you before everything had started. Bakugou had run off so quickly that you’d barely had time to react, and then before you’d known it he was gone, chasing after Deku and growing further and further away from you.

You hadn’t gotten to say goodbye. He wouldn’t let you – positive that this would be over in no time. That everything would be alright. Like it alway was.

Only this was the furthest thing from okay.

The sound of a door clicking open pulls you from your thoughts. You’re jumping to your feet before you even realize it, body moving on it’s own as your lips part, the worry crawling up the back of your throat no words are able to leave your lips. But then you see Mitsuki’s face, and there’s a smile on her lips and this look in her eyes that washes away all the worry.

All the tension leaves your body, dissipates from your muscles and you inhale so deeply, taking what feels like your first real breath in hours.

When she beckons you forward, you don’t hesitate. Racing through the door to Bakugou’s room, you feel your eyes watering all over again at the sight of him awake. Even though you know Bakugou hates when you get all emotional, you can’t help it, his name leaving your lips in a watery sob as his eyes meet yours and you’re making your way over to the chair perched next to his seat.

You don’t notice Mitsuki and Masaru slip out of the room, giving you both a moment of privacy. Your attention is solely focused on Bakugou, gripping onto his extended hand the second you’ve sat.

“I was so worried.”

“I told you it’d be fine, didn’t I?” Bakugou huffs, trying to smirk at you only to grimace in pain when he shifts wrong. “You never believe me.”

You just shake your head. “It’s not funny, jerk,” you cry, squeezing his hand. “I really thought… There was so much blood and you were so pale and I’ve seen it all before but it’s different when it’s you. And everyone’s so hurt that I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost you too. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself for not being there.”

“Y/N,” Bakugou calls, voice slightly raspy with lack of use. “Look at me.”

Inhaling shakily, you flicker your eyes up to meet his own.

“I’m okay.”

Nodding, you let his words soothe you, leaning towards him.

“I shouldn’t have run off by myself,” he says after a moment. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Never do that again,” you huff, trying to glare at him but it looks more pitiful than anything. It brings a light smile to his lips as he watches you try to calm yourself, holding onto his hand like it’s a lifeline and you’re scared to let go of it. “Never leave me like that.”

“I won’t,” he whispers, uncharacteristically soft. “I promise.”

And it’s different from him – to be so compliant. But the truth was, when he’d jumped in front of Deku, he’d been just as scared to lose you in that moment.

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #my hero acedamia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero acedamia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x reader

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20001541 · 2 months

Text

All Character Profiles of AFO

BNHA Ultra Archives 2016 (Note: this was never translated into English officially and fan translations that had translated some of the character profiles never did afo as this was in 2016 where AFO fans were practically non-existent so no English translation ☹️)

BNHA Ultra Analysis 2019

Bonus content about the Kamino incident

Hawks Villain Report 2022 (Note: Never officially translated into English either, fan translations do exist however)

Translation below

The ringleader and guide of the villains

All for One

Quirk: All for One

Profile

Real Name: N/A

Height: 225 cm

Birthday: ???

Affiliation: League of Villains

His origins and family structure are all a mystery.

Personality: The leader of the villain faction whose hobbies, thoughts, and preferences are all surrounded by mystery. He even has the notable characteristic of enjoying criminal activities as if they were a game. He will use all that can be used--before discarding them away. Truly the embodiment of evil; the Symbol of Evil.

-----

Countermeasures against AFO: Separate him from Shigaraki

AFO is already an extremely powerful opponent alone. There is no chance of victory if he appears together with Shigaraki. Cooperation between tops of the hero industry is the bare minimum required to battle him

Yaoyorozu: It is shameful, but I was too shook with fear and ended up unable to move during Kamino... He is not an opponent one should fight alone.

Bakugo: Some!!! Seems to call him “Pickled Plum Head”, huh. To me, he looks like nothing but a fucking “Nutsack” though!!

-----

Stats (clockwise, from top left)

Technique: A

Power: S+

Speed: S+

Intelligence: S+

Health: C

-----

Origin The ringleader: he has linked his quirk to Shigaraki

The name of his quirk--which is also his villain name--All for One, has been planted into Shigaraki as well thanks to the Doctor. It is a world-shaking, extremely dangerous quirk. One for All, its antithesis which is held by Deku that can defeat it, becomes absolutely essential.

-----

Forced Coercion of an Innocent Boy and His Family

It has been revealed that he has forcefully coerced a highschool boy and his family to use for his plans. He surely and certainly is a fiend. By the way, the likelihood of this happening has been implied in the 2021 MHA exhibition. The picture on the left was actually part of the exhibition. An evil eye that looks at a boy. It was a hint to all the guests about the threat of the great evil.

#three profiles and no birthday blood type or name for him after all these years 😔#may or may not get another mini profile with volume 40 extra contents we'll see we'll see (doubt it though)#anyways I'm going to sleep now 😴

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class1akids · 5 months

Text

Now that AFO is (hopefully) done, I really hope that Deku vs Shigaraki will manage to integrate Toya vs Shoto and Toga vs Ochako fights into the main plot in a meaningful way, so they don't feel like personal side-quests, but essential contributions to the final win, connecting all the Saviour Squad narratives, the way Bakugou connected all the vs AFO efforts.

Right now, from a utilitarian point of view, killing Toga and Toya on sight instead of saving them would have made more sense for the overall fight. Toga with the clones disrupted many battlefields and Toya escaping to Gunga took Endeavor out of the AFO fight.

So we saw the negative consequences, and I hope in order to change the mind of the civilians, the decision to save them will deliver a positive pay-off in the end.

If we look at Tomura's criticisms against hero society, these fights are direct examples of hero society changing:

Criticism 1: Heroes hurting their family

Answer: We have Shoto who saves BOTH his family and strangers:

In fact, choosing to save his family gives him the upgrade he needs to save strangers.

Criticism 2: Pretending not to see those heroes couldn't protect

Answer: Ochako refusing to ignore Toga's pain

Criticism 3: Passive civilians, dependent on being coddled

Answer: we see journalists, business students telling the story, we had Rei, Fuyumi, Natsuo actively run into the fire, we had "wishing energy", the doctors protecting patients, etc.

Criticism 4: This whole system has always rejected me

Answer: of course, Deku himself is actively trying to save Tomura

Now to pull it all together into a coherent whole - Shigaraki is the biggest threat created by the old hero society. So the changing hero society should all contribute to him being saved.

Option 1:

One way these fights can play into Tomura's narrative is simply learning about the fate of his allies (whether from Deku or better, seeing the Gunga aftermath play on the screens somewhere) and realize that hero society is changing. (For me, this is the weaker option)

Option 2

It would be maybe more tangible for Toga and Touya to physically come and help along with Deku's allies. I'm thinking of a scenario where Tomura is able to unleash a wave of Decay (maybe after Deku says on camera that he wants to save him). Cue in civilians faith wavering in Deku. Decay was something the heroes had no answer for in the PLF war.

However, Ochako's "remote Float" and Shoto's Phosphor (or maybe a new, fire-sided version of it that can melt rocks) could be effective counters. It would be cool and symbolic if Ochako and Toga using Ochako's quirk together and Shoto and Toya (and maybe Endeavor) together would stop the wave of destruction, offering a convincing, livestreamed pay-off for saving villains, without interfering in Deku's fight too directly or threatening to outshine him.

It would also show society that there is more than just OFA between them and total destruction. (I think it would be a good use of Warp Gate, and getting pay-offs for power-ups like Mina's or Aoyama's too).

Toga showing up in person would be also a good way also for Tomura to remember his promise, give him another reason to stop:

Not sure how Spinner and Mr Compress could play into this scenario, but I think they could also fit in some way.

I hope I'm not going to jinx it, I'd just like to see it come together all in an organic, satisfying way.

(Obviously, other things should also play a part - Deku's personal efforts to save Tomura is going to be the main driver, and Nana may get a part to play to the answer to "destruction of everything stemming from that house).

#bnha meta #bnha manga spoilers #tomura shiragaki #midoriya izuku #deku vs shigaraki #bnha speculation #todoroki shouto #dabi #todoroki touya #himiko toga #uraraka ochako #dabi vs shouto #toga vs ochako #saviour squad #lov trio #endgame bingo

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thehusbandoden · 4 months

Text

Midoriya Izuku x OFA Related Reader Headcannons

A/n: here's the request. For some reason my account is acting weird with requests and I don't wanna risk losing them so I'm doing it differently.

I'm so sorry it took so long! I wanted to write a fic but it wasn't working lol.😅

If you want something changed/want to request something else, please please contact me!

General info:

Genre: fluff + sllight angst \\ wc: 902 \\ posted: 01/01/2024 \\ requested

Your parents died when you were about six. They were bystanders of a villain attack, and All Might unfortunately didn't get there in time. All Might felt incredibly guilty, even though he knew that he did his best.

His guilt tripled when he found out that the couple had a daughter. He was very invested in your future, and immediately offered to adopt you when he found out you didn't have anyone to take you in.

After a while of debating and arguing, the government finally allowed All Might to adopt you. He took a few months off of work to bond with you and get to know you. He hired a full-time nanny to help take care of you while he was at work.

As you grew, he secretly hoped you would be able and willing to take on his quirk and be the next successor.

A few years pass by, and you haven't developed your quirk. All Might had taken you to your doctor multiple times, but he didn't see anything wrong. You were just a late bloomer.

All Might continued to smile, comforting you whenever you felt like a failure.

At your request, and probably a little bit of All Might's own desires, he started training you a week after your tenth birthday. You were amazing, and All Might was sure you would become the next successor.

Until your quirk came.

On your fourteenth birthday, you received your quirk. It was amazing and powerful, yes, but there was one problem...

It was completely incompatible with OFA.

The news devastated you and put you in a pit of depression for a few weeks.

All Might tried his best to reassure you, but you were too caught up in your own self-pity.

Five weeks later, you finally accepted it. You allowed and appreciated the comfort All Might gave you and started to rethink your life's plan.

After a few more weeks of recovery, you asked All Might to help you train your quirk.

It was tough, and almost overwhelming at times, but with All Might's support and the many professionals he hired with similar quirks, you prevailed.

You were behind your fellow classmates by several years, but made up for it by the relentless hours you trained with several pros.

By the time Middle school was ending, you were equal if not far surpass your classmates. You made it into UA by recommendation.

During the months before UA, All Might introduced you to Midoriya Izuku... his new successor.

They were both nervous about your reaction, but pleasantly surprised when you took the news well.

You and Izuku ended up getting along quite well. You quickly became friends, and you helped him with both preparing for and controlling his new power.

You became very close, becoming inseparable from each other.

Izuku slowly began to master his new power with your help, filling you with pride.

Helping him achieve his dream helped you to feel better about your failure.

Both of you developed feelings for one another but didn’t admit it- even to yourselves.

You always denied accusations of your crush thrown at you by the majority of Class 1-A.

It got so bad that Bakugo screamed at you across the hallway, demanding that you and “stupid Deku” stop being wimps and actually confess to one another.

Izuku was in hearing range, and you almost died from embarrassment.

Luckily, no one mentioned it.

It wasn’t until you worriedly entered the hospital, walking down the hall as your eyes flickered from room to room, anxiously looking for his number.

Your eyes met with the room number, and your heart thundered against your chest as you hurried inside, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as your eyes laid on the broken body of Izuku.

He got so worried when he saw your tears, trying to sit up to comfort you.

At the sight of him hurting himself, you grew angry.

Your lips contorting into a snarl, you gently push him back into bed, glaring at him.

“We’ll talk about this... foolish behavior later.” You growl, your e/c orbs boring into his emerald ones.

After he healed the two of you shyly confessed. He took you on a date, and you became official three days later.

You spent even more time together, sitting closer, and staring more openly.

Neither of you denied your feelings anymore- even though you didn’t tell anyone.

Almost everyone knew but you didn’t really care.

You were able to help him whenever he struggled to control or understand OFA, and you were the first one to recognize what was happening and to jump into help.

You ended up engaged three months after you graduated from UA and married seven months after that. Izuku heavily relied on your knowledge, asking you for help or for advice.

You both became well-known heroes, and you both went back and forth from number one and number two.

Bakugo surpassed you once- for two months.

Izuku was secretly fuming, fighting harder for his position.

He had a smug smirk on his lips as you regained your ranking, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, not caring about the cameras.

The affectionate act was all over the news the next day.

He fainted when he saw the pictures and the clip the next morning, profusely apologizing when he woke up.

~~~~~

Izuku's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here <3

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

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emmaelix · 1 year

Note

Hi!

I was wondering if you could do either some more Domestic! Mha boys headcanons, or maybe a dad! Kirishima.

Of course! I love getting requests. I'll do some headcanons here, and tag you on any future Domestic! MHA posts! :)

Ships: Kirishima x fem! reader, Denki x fem! reader, Bakugo x fem! reader, Shinsou x fem! reader, Todoroki x fem! reader, and Deku x fem! reader. Let me know if I missed any of your favorites, and I'll gladly do a part two.

TW: Mentions of trouble conceiving, labor

Rock Hard: AKA Eijiro Kirishima

Kiri, my beautiful, lovely baby is the most amazing dad.

Fight me, bitch.

His kids are super well-behaved and get a ton of attention from dad. He's the kind of dad who's going to come to his kid's school to drop off lunch in his Pro Hero outfit because he knows his kids love to see it.

Girl dad. Three kids, two with black hair, one with your color hair. (If your hair is black ignore that) Absolutely whipped for his princesses.

Tea parties once a month with your youngest, tree climbing with your middle daughter, and your eldest gets to do his makeup.

Of course, this has led to issues. Such as Kiri going to interviews and fighting villains wearing - to name a few - pink tutus, blue eyeshadow, the world's brightest blue lipstick, a blonde wig, and a red dress.

One particular day that still mortifies Kirishima to think about happened when your oldest was about nine. She's a daddy's girl and looks just like him without the red hair. She also loves the color coral, which clashes terribly with Eiji's red hair.

She had put pink and coral makeup all over his face while he was taking a nap, and he didn't realize he had on makeup until he had frantically driven halfway to his interview so he wouldn't be late.

To top off this horrific day, the interviewer hadn't been able to stop laughing long enough to ask him anything other than, "Who the hell did that?"

But he loves his girls and would do anything for them.

Electric Love: AKA Denki Kaminari

Pikachu over here is an absolute softy for his kids.

He has thirteen-year-old twins. A boy and a girl. He loves them equally and showers praise on them at all times.

Both have bright yellow hair and fairly similar quirks to their dad. But what really makes everyone around them know, 'yep, those are Kaminari's', is when they goof off.

Now, Kami's funny story is fairly recent.

His daughter got her period a few months ago, and he, being the idiotic but loveable trainwreck he is, called you because he thought your daughter was dying.

"Doctor Kaminari Y/n speaking, how may I help you?"

"Y/n! I think Yukina's dying! She and Seiko got home from school and she was bleeding. From... there."

You could hear your husband hyperventilating on the other end of the phone. "Kami, she got her period, she's not dying. Bring her over to the hospital in your car, I took the train to work today so we can stop at the store to get Yuki some pads or tampons, depending on what she wants, and we'll go by her favorite Ramen place to grab supper when my shift ends."

You could hear Seiko telling his younger sister it'd be okay. You and Denki had raised them right.

Although how you'd never know.

Blast 'em With Kindness: AKA Katsuki Bakugo

In case you couldn't tell, that title is sarcastic.

Just like Bakugo and his eight-year-old. You could look at that little girl and think she was Mitsuki in disguise. Your daughter, Kiko, was not an only child, but she was your only child who looked like you and Katsuki.

You and Katsuki had wanted a big family since you had both been only children. But only one of your four kids was actually yours. You had a condition called PCOS, which had made it incredibly difficult to get pregnant with Kiko.

So you had adopted your two oldest, and your youngest, having Kiko in between.

Bakugo gets asked about his family every time someone sees him.

Your eldest, at least in adoptive order, Mana, is very enthusiastic since you adopted her when she was only a year old, not old enough to remember much other than her adoptive parents.

However, Imani, your second, and actually the oldest, had been adopted at age six from an African orphanage while you were pregnant with Kiko. So Imani was a bit shy, with her favorite uncle being Tamaki Amajiki or Suneater, since he was also socially awkward.

Since three of your kids are adopted, Bakugo loves to cook with his kids. Especially so that Imani can be connected to her heritage.

Kiko is sarcastic, and practically a tiny version of her grandmother, just without as many violent tendencies.

And your youngest, Tetsu, was hardened against many things with three older sisters. You hadn't chosen his name, but you found it hilarious that one of your husband's high school 'friends' was named Tetsutetsu, making him a favorite hero of your sons.

Bakugo's soft around his 'brats' (he calls them angels when they aren't looking), but don't tell anyone or you'll be against a wall with explosions very close to your throat very quickly.

Enthraller of Minds: AKA Hitoshi Shinsou

While Hitoshi loves his kids, none of them were planned.

Your first child, your now sixteen-year-old son Yamato was the result of a very drunk night full of poor decisions.

Your twelve-year-old daughter, Nara, happened because you forgot a week of birth control.

And your nine-year-old son, Shouta, was the result of a business trip where you packed your very tight skirt. He was named after Hitoshi's adoptive father due to some circumstances. (meaning Aizawa helped deliver Shinsou baby #3)

All three of your kids are very mild-mannered, and very sleep-deprived, just like their mom and dad.

Since both you and Hitoshi are Pro Heroes, your kids see 'Grampa Shou' a lot. Aizawa doesn't mind.

Shinsou was worried his kids would get his quirk and be made fun of like he was. But even though both Yamato and Nara got their father's quirk, neither was bullied or teased like he was in school.

Your youngest has a fairly weak quirk, so his older brother and sister stand up for him a lot.

But overall you're a very happy family. And Shinsou couldn't be prouder.

Half 'n' Half Espresso: AKA Shoto Todoroki

His nicknames for his children: Pumpkin Bug. Sakura. Sweetheart. Deli (don't ask)

His children's nicknames for him in the same order: Espresso man, Cool Dad, Daddio, and Karaoke Wonder (also don't ask).

Pumpkin Bug/Espresso man comes from your oldest daughter, Niko.

Sakura/Cool Dad comes from your middle daughter, Sara.

Sweetheart/Daddio comes from your youngest daughter, Kasumi.

Deli/Karaoke Wonder comes from your son, Hotaru.

Since you and your husband are Pro Heroes your kids spend a lot of time with Aunt Fuyumi and Uncle Natsuo. Not that they mind.

Endeavor once asked why he's never asked to babysit, but he's never asked since.

"Because you gave my husband severe emotional trauma, you turned your son into a villain, and you don't care about your other two children unless they did something wrong! You're never getting close to my kids until I'm dead and buried, but by then they'll have their own reasons to hate you."

Ouch.

But Sho does try to be accepting of his father, even though Endeavor is never allowed around his children without either you or your husband supervising.

Kasumi loves her aunt and uncle the most, though. She's the weakest of your four kids, although she was still able to beat her younger brother in a fight at the age of eleven.

Sara and Niko are definitely the most powerful, but Shoto made sure that all his kids knew they were loved and that how powerful they were didn't matter to him.

And his kids love to walk around using their quirks in front of their grandfather just to piss Endeavor off.

Sho loves his kids.

Like Mother Like Son: AKA Izuku Midoriya

Broccoli boy absolutely loves his daughters. His younger daughter, Mayumi, likes to have tea parties, while Seiko, his older daughter, loves to spar with him and test out her quirk.

He fanboys with his daughters about All Might, showing them all his merch + that limited edition poster Nighteye had.

He also enjoys arranging playdates with his friend's kids and making sure his daughters know that they are loved no matter what.

Seiko, who is fifteen, recently got into her first relationship. With Tetsu Bakugo.

Izuku was excited his daughter had a boyfriend, and while Bakugo didn't care that his daughter was dating someone (too much), he certainly hated the fact it was Midoriya's daughter.

"DEKU! Your daughter is dating my son!" Bakugo screamed into the phone as Izuku flinched away from it.

"Well, Kacchan, I can't pick who my daughter likes!"

You especially were pissed. Not because Seiko was dating Tetsu Bakugo, but because of how two grown men who were both Pro Heroes were acting because their kids were in a relationship.

No doubt about it, these girls love to play pranks on their dad.

The last time this happened Nara Shinsou also got involved, along with Niko, Sara, and Kasumi Todoroki.

We won't get into details, but let's just say all of them were grounded for a while.

I hope you enjoyed these, and I think I might do some more family things, especially with Sho and his kids pissing off Endeavor.

#deku x reader #domestic mha fluff #mha headcanons #my hero academia #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shoto x reader #kirishima x reader #bakugo x reader #denki x reader #dad! bakugo katsuki x reader #dad! shoto todoroki #dad! hitoshi shinsou #dad! denki kaminari #dad! izuku midoriya #dad! eijirou kirishima #Elix does requests

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short-black-diamond · 1 year

Text

The other woman. (part 2)

Previous: part one

Next: part three, part four- Izuku’s end

Heya, I am doing part two, no idea how it’ll go, but uhm, yeah.

Warnings: suggestive content-but nothing really happens, cheating, lots of angst for izuku, hate-love, you slowly fall out of love with Deku, Izuku feels guilty and shit, timelaps, suicide thoughts, you feel a little guilty, but not too much, LONG CHAPTER

summary: As Izuku thinks about how he should tell you and admit how he cheated on you, you are finishing your last preps to completely break him. Now, all he can do is think about where you might’ve headed off to.

Also: Did I write this all with a resting bitch face?

Yes.

Word count: 4k words

Have fun reading!

...

{...Last time : }

You gently pushed him away from you, his heart breaking at the sight of you avoiding body contact with him. you looked at him with a sad and dissapointed expression and looked away, going to sleep in the guest room. Now that the young man was alone, he thought about your behavior.

You and him didn’t really spend time together, the last time being him and you fucking last night. Before that, you were busy looking for evidences of a new case you could work on alone since you got your promotion.

...

He thought about you real hard then. You were always there for him. Always. You always stood up late at night to greet him. You oftentimes came to his office and brought him lunch, which then ended in a hot make-out session or even a quickie in his office.

You often talked about kids, how many you’ve wanted, how you speculated on what they’d look like, what they’d become afterwards.

You weren’t a person of words, but of action. you kissed him at least a hundred times more than he did, you held him oh so delicately whenever you could. you were always gentle, soft, comforting for him. I mean, you could be rough when he wanted to, but you preferred a soft and calm relationship.

He...

He didn’t deserve you.

...

In the guest room, you took a look at your phone. This time, the unknown person wrote a message.

‘Why are you still hanging onto that cheating bastard?‘

You smirked. You didn’t really know who that person was, and if you’d sent the wrong text, then they could do whatever they wanted with it. So, you played dumb.

‘I think you are mistaking him with somebody else. He would never do something like that! I know my husband better than anyone else!!‘

The person didn’t take long to send something back. A voicemail? Let’s check if it’s a man or a woman...

“Well sweetie...guess I’ll have to show you myself...meet me at musutafu train station. Next saturday. 4 o’clock. Dress up for me, pretty. A’ight?“, the stranger said, having a voice changer and you couldn’t tell the gender.

Then, the messenger went offline.

You didn’t have time to ask who they were or why they wanted to stop your relationship with Izuku so bad. But, you were quickly pulled out of your thoughts when Izuku knocked on your door. You had to think of something to answer.

SHITSHITSHITSHIT-

“D-darling...?“ He was met with the sound of whimpers and crying. Izuku felt like killing himself.

...

The next few weeks, you felt like shit, but it was because of your pregnancy. luckily, it was summer, then fall, and then winter, so you could put on more and more sweaters or large shirts to hide your growing stomach.

You went to the doctors regularly to get some meds, and when they asked you if Deku knew-you shook your head no with a mischievous smile that they only interpreted as a surprise.

...

Izuku didn’t feel any better. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months, his hair was messier than usual. He had a days-old beard, and if he wouldn’t have cheated on you, you’d latch onto him and fuck him until next week.

The guilt of cheating on you was plaguing his mind so much that he even forgot to eat. He forgot to take care of himself. When he roamed around the city, he didn’t tell the villains to make a better person out of themselves with a smile on his face like he normally would.

No.

He used them as a punching bag and beat them up with a monotone expression. He felt like really committing suicide.

The idea became more and more interesting as he noticed more and more things in his every day life that he didn’t think of before. Once he even drank a little bleach, but he vomitted out his entire dinner that he had with you.

The dinner was a complete disaster.

In that dinner, he tried to try it again, tried to talk with you. He noticed that you were covering up more and more. you also looked a little more chubby to him. You didn’t really eat anything, only looked to the side with your arms crossed.

Also, he couldn’t touch you how he liked anymore.

You didn’t let Izuku touch you because he cheated (but he didn’t know that you knew) on you and also because if he would’ve touched your tummy, he would’ve guessed that you were pregnant right away. Who knows? He might even be relieved that you wanted to hide that surprise from him.

But you didn’t let him come closer to you than arms length. And he was only allowed to hold your arms and hands or your head and face. Not more.

Izuku thought of that distance as your dissapointment towards him. He knew that you didn’t want to make love with him. But he didn’t know for how long. and honestly? It was snapping every single heart string of his.

Maybe he’d get a broken heart syndrome and die already. But his prayers went ignored as time went by.

He felt numb.

Then he went numb. But you didn’t really care. It was his fault, after all.

...

The brown haired woman, Uraraka, has tried to contact him more than a few times everyday, but he blocked her. Izuku felt like a traitor-which he was-but he felt much more than that.

You didn’t deserve such an ungrateful bastard like him. He felt like a whore. He took you for granted. He was fucking another woman behind your back. He was kissing another woman. In another bed.

When you should be in Uraraka’s place. When you should be the one he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. When you should be the one he’d meet at the end of the day. Not her.

Uraraka was the other woman.

But she was a woman who didn’t care if her target was taken or not. She didn’t care that you and Izuku were theoretically inseperable. She tested that theory.

She found out that the theory was wrong. Or only temporary.

She broke a perfect relationship with a devillish smirk.

Uraraka is a bitch.

...

You met up with some music and model agencies. You gave the music agency some of your music for when you were younger. Songs about love. Breakup. First date. Arguments. Everything. Nothing.

They accepted your music. You even gave out your most recent song, but you wanted to sing that one. It was about cheating. About you, Izuku, and the other woman. And you even mentioned your two months old baby in your tummy in it. You’d sing it after your son, daughter or baby would come to the world, not sooner.

if some other person, no matter if man or woman, would sing it, and Izuku would hear the lyrics, then he’d know that it was your song. You loved mistery, but also being simple and obvious. He knew that. so, you’d sing that song and the whole world would know about your and Izuku’s relationship being over before it could actually really blossom.

The head of the music agency was thrilled about your plan and loved it. She even organised a concert for you to sing on. Live. And Izuku would be your guest of honour.

In the model agency, you gave the people some of your old modeling photos. Now you’d be a model for pregnant ladies. They also accepted. But, you insisted on cutting of your face in every pic, but only digitally. When you’d give birth to your child, then could they publish your photos. and Izuku would see how much he’s fucked up.

...

The case was finished. It seemed like the burglar was actually a group of middle school kids that had fusing quirks which they used to form into a thief and steal important or expensive stuff.

After that case, you got another one. You had to find a mysterious person who likes to stalk people. It could be your internet friend who sent you the videos of Izuku and the other woman.

Today was saturday. Time to meet the stranger. You contacted one of your close friends for safety reasons and made your way to the station. Your stomach got heavy with each week passing by. Now, your stomach was a little bigger than a basketball, but you could cover it up perfectly with one of Izuku’s hoodies.

Yes, you still used them. Only to let him think that you still wanted this...whatever it was the two of you had. Now, you passed half of the path you had to take when Izuku called you.

“Hey sweetie, where are you going?“

“Huh?“

“I’m up here.“, he whispered and you looked up. You saw him standing on a low rooftop, gazing down at you with a smile only a real lover could have. Too bad he wasn’t your lover anymore.

But, you noticed his growing beard and hair, his eyes having big, dark circles under his eyes. He also looked like he could eat something. He should eat...

You smiled. “Aren’t you coming down? I don’t feel that safe right now.”, and just after you’ve finished that sentence, he jumped and landed on his feet next to you. He tried to be subtle, but you pretty much aknowledged the pained wince his left eye had when his feet met the ground.

You smiled again. “Thanks.”

You put your mobile away, and took his hand, swinging it around a little. That made Izuku uncomfortable, and you knew that. “N-no problem...where are you going anyways?”, he asked, giving you a curious look.

No need to lie, right? “Well, there’s this person who began texting me, and I thought they’d be a nice friend, so I’d agreed to meet up with them.”

Izuku looked at you for a few seconds before squeezing your hand. “would you like me to come with you?”

Don’t you have other bitches to look at?

“Don’t you have patrol?”, you asked instead, biting your tongue internally. He shrugged, looking at you with a sly smirk. “I can always come a little late.”

‘I can always come a little late.‘, my ass! He probably said that to that other bitch he’s fucking!

You looked at him with a resting bitch face before you looked straight ahead. Your phone began ringing as you went. You stopped in your tracks and took your phone out.

The unknown number. You wrote ‘MY BESTO FRENDO!! <3’ in the contact list so that your poor excuse of a husband wouldn’t suspect a thing. “Oh, ‘my besto friendo?’ Isn’t that from Jujutsu Kai-” “Heyyy~! Where are you?”

Oh. O-okay..

Izuku visibly deflated when you interrupted him by picking up the phone and went ahead and pulled your hand away from him. He felt shitty.

“huh? over there? Ah, I see you, you can stop waving now, hahaha...yeah, okay, I’ll come now! Bye!“, you said after you ended the call. You then looked at the man whom you’d swore to never leave. But you would. In less than a year.

“You can go now, Izuku. I can take care of myself.“ “I can still accompany you-“ “There are your fans, I don’t want them to come closer than they already are. Bye Izu.“

And without smiling at him, giving him a kiss, touching his shoulder, or cheek, you turned around and went into a nice caffee. Izuku lookes after you with a look of longing. He missed you.

With a sigh, he turned towards his eager fans who questioned him about everything that had happened between you two. With each question that involved you - which was every single one the six kids asked him about - he felt more and more like crying, screaming, or throwing himself into a nearby river.

“I-I’m sorry kids, it was nice talking to you...!“, he croaked out before he took off and dissapeared.

...

“Huh, so, you’re the one sending me those videos.“, you mustered the handsome but tired looking male in front of you.

He had nice purple hair, eyebags of tiredness, and a sexy smile.

“Shinsou Hitoshi.“ “Aren’t you an underground hero?“

He looked at you with surprise evident on his face. “How...?”

“You think I don’t know about people like you? I am a detective in that area. I know everybody here. And now tell me; Why did you send me these videos?“

He furrowed his brows. “Do I really need an explanation? You are living together with your CHEATING husband, isn’t that enough?”

You smiled coquettishly at him. “No, why do you think that this is going to change anything?”, you scoffed, ”Do you think I want to leave him?”

He hesitantly nodded, which made you giggle sweetly. “Dear Underground hero, I am not planning on divorcing my husband. He may have had come slip ups there and there, but don’t we all do mistakes sometimes?”

“I...shouldn’t you be hurt by his actions? How can you still be so...carefree?“, he murmured, sizing you up. To him, you looked like a completely normal citizen, but he still questioned your relationship with Izuku.

“Say...are you happy in your relationship?“

If you were taken aback, you didn’t show it. You were a mistress when it came to faking your emotions around other people now. You sighed.

“I wish I was...I am still a little mad at him for spending some nights with another woman, but he promised that he’d never do it again.”, and you had a sad expression on your face, but it was real in this fake relationship.

Shinsou nodded, giving you the illusion of the conversation dying down. But, you were wrong. Deku just had to break your heart more, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry for...putting my nose into your business, but Izuku’s been meeting up with the same woman over and over again until it suddenly stopped.”

You stopped breathing for a second. You don’t have to tell me that, you idiot-

“And I really want to know why-like, don’t get me wrong or something! I am questioning your...husband’s...moves right now.“

“Please, Shinsou. Leave it. Okay? I’ll try and talk to Izuku about it, all right?“, you only answered with a bittersweet smile.

He didn’t look like he’d believe you and you wouldn’t even believe it yourself, but here you were, lying to people who only want the best for you.

“I-just...ugh. Let me tell you, that I will be there for you when you need help, all right? Also, it’d be the best if you’d leave him already.“

You sighed for the last time before standing up, thanking him for the nice time, and walking home, with thinking about how you should approach your nearly final step.

...

“Phew. Onto the next step.“

Carefully, you put out some wine glasses with some bottles of beer and other drunk-making potions for your plan for tonight. Since it was sunday, and you had free for today, it was the perfect chance of taking it into action.

You had prepared some nice dinner, candles and other romantic stuff and with your quirk, making plants, you let plenty of flowers bloom from the walls of your shared house.

“I’m home...“, you heard your “husband’s“ tired voice. He was later than usual and he looked like he’d need a bath-right now. Luckily, you let in a nice warm bath for him with plucked pectorals from some flowers an put them on the nice-with bath bombs and soothing bathing salts filled- bathwater.

Now, as Izuku was stripping down to his underwear, you prepared the most important part: The divorce. You needed his signature, after all.

You then put on his oversized hoodie-an all might themed one, of course- and went over to him, ignoring the stomach ache your growing child gave you. “Hey, Izu.”, you smiled softly at him, spoiling him with your tender, fake love.

He looked at you surprised. “O-oh, hey...”

You giggled. Okay, something’s wrong here. Why were you all happy and shit right now? With him? Even though it was nice to hear your happiness, Midoriya felt like something was completely wrong.

“C’mon, I made dinner, and the bath is also not waiting for you.“, you ushered him into the bathroom, which was lit up by the numerous candles and gave him a nice vibe. He stepped into the bathroom and groaned. His muscles relaxed after what felt like forever and he felt like taking a nap. That was what he was really missing.

Meanwhile, your core still responded to his touch and you cursed your body for still aching after the cheater who was having a good time in the bathtub.

Your hand on his scalp brought him out of his dreamland and he sighed. Still, things were nagging him. “Hey...are we...are we good?”, he asked cautiously, testing the waters with you.

Your smile faded. “I wish we were, Izuku...it’s actually my fault that I neglected you, you know? You’re so busy, with saving everybody...and helping people when they need help...”, you trailed off, talking about all the times you longed for his touch, his voice, his warmth, him.

And with each word falling from your lips, he felt like drowning himself into the bathtub. “I just...I wished we could...you know...try again?”, you asked, a hopefull glimmer in your eyes.

Who was he to deny you.

Who was he to even think about answering that question.

Who did he think he was for even looking you in the face after all the time he has spent countless times in other women’s places, blowing their backs over and over again?

“Yes. Let’s do it.“, he instead answered, a determined expression on his face and you smiled seductively at him. “Okay, Izu. But I am hungry, so we’ll eat first, okay?“

...

“Ya wan’ me dodo *hiccup* wha?“, he only asked, his mind far too gone, but he tried to seem like he’d know what you were talking about.

You held the divorce papers in front of him, smiling devilishly down at him. “It’s so that I can get more money, sweetie...”, you whispered, grinning happily when he signed off without another care.

“averythin’ for’ya, swee...anythin’“, he called, his red face making him drowsy and soon, he fell asleep.

He didn’t even see you taking your clothes and leaving. He didn’t see you putting your wedding- and engaged ring into their respective boxes and placing them on the dinner table, where everything was left the way it was after you two ate and drank. You onlay drank water but he mistook it for whitewine and said cheers before drinking full-on.

He thought about having to become confident before rearranging your gut again, but he never got to do that; with you talking about how you solved the case, your friends having kids, you solving another case and him having to get better at saving people again.

He never got to touch further up your arm than intertwining your and his fingers and gazing into each other lovingly. He never saw you again after he signed the paper. But what was it again?

It was morning as he threw up all the bile from yesterday, even your delicious food, and the expensive liquors. He felt miserable, and when he called for you, you didn’t answer.

As he kept calling your name, he noticed that something was wrong, again. All your belongings were gone. Your clothes, lewelry, but only the ones that you personally owned-not the ones he bought for you. Your shoes, also only from your own credit card, were gone, and so was your entire presence.

Sure, there were still the parfumes and other belongings of yours that Izuku purchased for you, but you? You were nowhere to be seen. Izuku got scared that something might’ve happened to you.

He searched for his phone and found it on the uncleaned dining table. There were two boxes, dangerously equal to the ones where he had his engage and wedding rings in, and to his horror, the rings were inside the boxes.

Underneath was an envelope. He opened it and read a letter which you wrote for him.

“Dear Izuku Midoriya.

Dear Izu, Zuku, Mido, Midori, sweetheart, love, handsome, sweetie, darling.

Dear Deku,

As you might have noticed, I have vanished. Am I going to tell you where? Out of your life! Now, you can fuck as many women as you want.

But-”

Izuku flinched as if he heard you say those words. Your words, and you found out he cheated on you. How long?

He looked down again, and continued.

“But, you’ll surely try and stalk me or investigate where I have gotten off to. Well, spare it. You’ll never find me.

I do have some questions though.

Why did you cheat on me?

Was I not enough? Not sexy enough for you? Not pretty enough for you? Not tidy enough for you?

Too lazy? Too brat-ish? Too much attitude? Not enough confidence? Not enough attention? Not the best looking woman? Not the best cook? Not the best lover?

Tell me. why did you cheat. and why did you stop? Exactly after the night when you fucked me?

Did a lightbulb go on over your head and you thought, ‘wait, I’ve adtually got a spouse, I don’t need a side chick!’?

Whatever your answer might be, it’s over.

that...paper you signed yesterday. It was our devorce. and we are leaving. who do I mean by “we”?

Well, me and my son of five months.

I hope that he’ll never see you and become like you, Izuku Midoriya. I’ll raise him as a real man.

Until never,

Not your lover anymore.”

You were pregnant? A son? And you didn’t tell him, he also doesn’t know where you are.

I mean, sure, he broke you, but you broke him back, you guys are even...right?

As tears ran down his eyes and his sobs echoed in the now empty and cold appartment, void of your nice and warm presence, the pro hero unlocked his phone, only to be bombarded with news and questions from all sides.

Japan news! - Deku’s bride divorced with child, what happened to our sweetest...tip to read more

Kacchan - the fuck did you do?! Your girl left you while pregnant?! Did you cheat on her...tip to read more

Uraraka - Are you okay? should I come come over? We can talk about it if you want...tip to read more

+ Notifications - tip to read more

His phone trembled when he listened to Katsuki screaming his ear off, the news reporting about how you modeled for numerous model companies and released tons of relatable and heart wrenching songs, with an invitation to her freshly divorced ex- Izuku to be a gust at her upcoming concert.

then, he listened to Uraraka’s voice. calming, soothing, comforting.

Bullshit.

He blackmailed Uraraka, blocked her, and then tossed his phone away, thinking about where you might be.

...

It was cold at this hour, but Izuku didn’t want to fakk asleep after two o’clock. You heaved your luggage down the last stairs of the house you’ve lived in for the past few years.

Now, you were ready to leave it all behind.

Shinsou, your chauffeur, packed all the suitcases into the car and let you sit in the passenger seat. Only then he noticed your noticable bulge.

“You-you’re pregnant?!”, he yelled, eyeing you with owlish eyes. You winced from his loud voice and shushed him.

“I fucked him a few months ago and now I’ve got the baby. Now drive me away from this shitty place. Please.“

After some while, you felt Shinsou trying to say something and you sighed before urging him to tell you what’s been on his mind as he drove you into your new house-but...could you even call it a house?

It was...so much more than that. (I’ll explain it later.)

“Well, i think that after you two had sex did he stop meeting that other woman. what was her name again? Uraa- Uraka-“

“Uraraka Ochaco. And you’re the person who’s fitting perfectly in my case. Please, Shinsou, for the love of god. Register yourself and tell your underground-hero friends to to the same or my job will only consist of tracking down my own collegues. You guys are taking that whole “underground-hero” thing way too seriously.“

“A-ah..shit, sorry.“

[to be continued...]

...

HOW DID Y’ALL FIND IT?!

was it angsty enough? Because I am still bad at it I think

please comment on my posts so that I can improve my writing and make better stories in the future...PLEASE!

Taglist: black-bhabie-2000

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darkonekrisrewrite · 10 months

Text

Ochako is Different

(Current Chapter Spoilers) It’s a little early to make this but I had to.

‘If Toga still wants to talk to her, she’s willing to give her her own blood for the rest of her life.’

“I want to talk about love with you, himiko-chan!”

‘She won’t support everything she does from now on’

‘The world isn’t ideal (comfortable?) for people like her’

It’s almost exactly what I wanted, but it’s still totally perfect.

This Chapter is great for Toga and Ochako, and perfect for Ochako’s development.

In fact I’d say that this puts Ochako over the top of what’s been shown to be heroic in bnha.

Because while Ochako doesn’t really side with Toga fully, which is understandable from her point of view but she does pretty much say that Toga won’t be killed or locked up to rot because of the promise she makes to her.

This implies a long term plan/commitment and freedom, the first part obviously stated that neither Ochako or Toga herself want her death and the second part because there’s no way Toga would ever accept such a thing from inside a cage.

“Living Free” being an essential part of Toga’s character that wouldn’t just be ignored and doesn’t seem to be on Ochako’s viewpoint, with her saying: ‘She won’t support everything she does from now on’

“From now on” implying Toga will have the freedom to choose.

This answer from a hero to a villain might really change things, or at least have the intent to change beginning here.

Ochako’s answer feels big enough for that, not only in her direct relationship with Toga but also on a much wider scale in her clearly stating that: The World isn’t ideal/comfortable for people like Toga.

This along with everything else she said makes her the best Hero in this series.

Even out of the Core Three Heroes.

Shoto Todoroki, a good, focused Hero, succeeding in everything he set out to do in bnha’s story, and also succeeded in becoming exactly the type of hero he wanted to be.

Be a Hero that puts others at ease? Nailed it.

Be like his friends who get mad and shed tears for others? Got it.

Protect his family and others? Even Dabi in a way? Total Victory.

A Perfect Score for Shoto, also his family, and all the innocent people that he saved.

But that’s it.

Shoto still hasn’t taken any kind of wider view on Dabi/Endeavor/his family or hero society, even though he’s had more than enough time to think about it.

He never came to the larger realization that: “Hmm, actually the fact that Endeavor was able to buy Mom like a broodmare, consult with doctors plainly about his intentions regarding his children, have one of them literally die, another be clearly scarred and his wife sent to a mental institution and yet despite all that…no one (Hero/Government/Civilian) says or does shit…that might be a problem too?”

Shoto is definitely a Hero; he’s just not quite seeing the big picture when he really needs to.

Deku on the other hand isn’t even close.

Because while he does inspire others, he has yet to actually help them himself.

Gentle criminal, Lady Nagant and Overhaul are all ‘Villains’ that Deku has interacted with and changed but, when talking about direct actions, he never helped any of them or even acknowledged their negative points about hero society other than giving a single platitude.

Gentle Criminal had heroic aspirations from the start, despite being hurt multiple times by hero society; he still chose to do the right thing.

Whether or not that really works out for him in the end is yet to be seen but he still did it, and on his own.

Deku never tried to help Gentle or even find out what happened to him or La Brava after their fight, despite emphasizing with him and their struggles.

Nagant was in some way, like Gentle, inspired by Deku, just in her case it was taken to a somewhat unbelievable degree.

“Extend a helping Hand” is not an answer to the fact that hero society was assassinating innocent people who threatened the status quo.

But Nagant is fighting on the hero side now so I guess it was answer enough for her.

But from a wider story perspective Deku didn’t address anything.

Overhaul is one of the darkest villains in the series, with what he did to Eri.

But Deku still made him a promise, to bring Overhaul to his ‘Father’ (figure) if he was willing to regret what he did.

He didn’t.

I mean, if we had jumped right into the next war in only a few moments after this point then I would understand Deku not having enough time to make good on his word but there was a lot of down time in-between.

Was Deku actually serious about the no-armed cripple Overhaul having to regret his actions before he was taken to see his comatose Father?

That’s kind of messed up when you really think about it.

Was Deku planning on doing it anyway, just at some undetermined point in the Future?

We don’t know, it was never brought up again.

It makes anything that Deku’s going to say to Shigaraki seem a bit Hollow because there’s no past foundation to hold up his word to, on a personal or societal level.

Vague promises on top of other promises that haven’t been fulfilled is not a good look for a Hero.

While it is true that this may change later, it may lack impact and believable commitment, coming in a bit late on Shoto’s part and with Deku’s loyalty to hero society at odds with everything Shigaraki is.

But Ochako isn’t like that.

Ochako

She recognized that there was a problem (though eventually) after seeing clear signs of it and looked at everything involved.

Toga’s Quirk and her tears, how she felt about love and the world around her.

Also with her experience in dealing with the “innocent” people at UA high and how they treated Deku.

Have to believe that too had an effect on her decision and reasoning to try to understand Toga, in how she was made a villain currently.

She may not really understand Toga in everything, but Ochako is still saying all the right things, addressing what she knows about Toga and how society has treated her.

No other hero has done that yet and followed through.

Because Ochako didn’t just say: “You have a point, but you know morality.” Then try to punch Toga in the face or overpower her into submission.

She said: “You have a point, but you know morality, so I will personally help you in the way you need.”

Immediately trying to do just that and saying she’ll continue to in the future.

‘If Toga still wants to talk to her, she’s willing to give her her (Ochako’s) own blood for the rest of her life.’

That’s a Hero. And what a real Hero would do.

It really was just that simple of someone offering her Blood, that specific someone showing that they cared and telling Toga that she wasn’t a monster or a deviant.

And Toga accepting Ochako’s feelings would make sense as this is everything she ever wanted-

BUT-

The only hang up is how Ochako would then deal with Hero Society after this, because they are definitely not going to be on board with her choice, even though it’s part of the only option/path forward that could save their world.

And with the inherent flaws/corruption in the hero system and the Quirk Singularity, Ochako’s choice is undeniably the start of the only path that could save bnha’s world.

So yeah Ochako is actually doing Amazing so far.

#bnha spoilers #bnha meta #Ochako Uraraka #toga himiko #himiko toga #mha spoilers #mha meta #uraraka ochako

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shibaraki · 9 months

Text

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

synopsis: slow to heal and forced on sick leave, a lonely Todoroki Shouto decides to download the latest popular app, Enigmail, to cure his boredom. he finds you. the rest is… well. moderately disastrous.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader, pen pal au, hero personal assistant reader, prohero shouto, strangers to friends to lovers, injury recovery, online friendship + eventual romance, feelings development, misunderstandings, identity reveal, pining, sexting, masturbation (male chara), making out + heavy petting, getting together, *slaps roof of fic* you can fit so much fluff in this thing

wc: 17K

It started unexpectedly—with a tremor.

Rather, it started with Oda Shuichi, the prolific villain known as Tremor. At the time of the incident his quirk had been unregistered, but doctors quickly found that it severely affected an individual's motor neurons. According to them the length of time that he has a five point touch hold on someone influences how long they will lose motor function—and how poorly their muscles atrophy.

Shouto spent three uninterrupted minutes trapped in his clutches.

“I promise I’ll come by and visit whenever we can. You’ll still get updates and reports through your work email,” Midoriya tried to assure him with that signature smile, brows drawn together into an almost pleading expression. “It’s just for a little while!”

“For a month,” Shouto pointed out petulantly. Nori, his elderly adopted cat, stirred from her place on his stomach while restless fingers combed over her short pale fur.

“A month,” Midoriya parrots. He offers an apologetic grimace and leans over where he lies horizontal, slumped and agitated, to fluff up the couch cushions behind him. The newly crowned Symbol of Peace obviously felt needlessly responsible for the situation at hand. Shouto had only allowed Tremor to grab him so Deku and Suneater could get the hostages out, after all.

“Taking a break isn’t so bad, Shouto. And Hawks told me you’ve yet to actually use any of your vacation days,” he continued. “Even Kacchan takes time off. Do you know how many hours you have to work to outdo Kacchan?”

“I’m sure you could tell me exact numbers”.

“Don’t be mean,” Midoriya said, dithering as he peers around the room, slightly unfamiliar now that the furniture has been temporarily moved around to make navigating the space easier. Thanks to an on-call specialist Shouto would still be able to walk in short bursts, but he’d have to gradually build up strength and stamina over the weeks to come.

A pleased sound reverberated in Midoriya’s throat as he finally discovered the TV remote, setting it beside Shouto’s phone on the arm of the chair. “Okay. There,” he hooked an ankle around the coffee table and dragged it a little closer. “If you need us to get you anything from the store just text us”.

Shouto grumbled. Midoriya sighed, fondly exasperated at the childish display. Before leaving he moved the nearby pair of crutches within reach, listing off all the things he can think of, “Hey, maybe you can catch up on Quirky Hearts now! Or read that series Iida said you’d enjoy. There’s that new app I heard about, too. Enigmail? That might be fun”.

The anonymous pen pal app, Enigmail, exploded in popularity after its release in the spring. Shouto barely knew a thing about it, only that you needed to be over eighteen and chatting partners were assigned at random. Nothing about that sounded tempting.

Midoriya’s suggestion hung over his head for the rest of that afternoon. Quirky Hearts droned on in the background. Halfway through the first episode Shouto had yet to retain any information. Nori hardly left her spot. Jaws stretched wide around a yawn, lips pulled back to display what remained of her teeth. He liked to think she sensed his inner turmoil, though realistically, she was likely too lazy to move.

Curiosity prevailed in the end. The logo featured a pink post mounted mailbox, the slot unhinged to receive a folded paper plane. Shouto opened the app onto a pretty basic interface that followed an almost pastel theme. The profiles are barebones. He supposed that was purposeful. It asked for pronouns and a nickname, offering the option to pick an icon from their default library, but nothing more.

From what he could discern skimming over the rules he would be assigned to a random chat room with another person in a speed dating style interaction. A timer would count down from two minutes and upon completion prompt the user to either switch partners or remain talking.

A simple concept. But anything had sounded better than sulking horizontally and staring dead eyed at reality television for the remainder of his night. And when was the last time he met somebody new?

Almost every username he could think up had been taken. Even his hero name was unavailable. In a last ditch effort he settled on a miraculously accepted Sooba and scrolled through the icons. “Hey, it looks like you,” he murmured, pleased by the regal white cat icon. She hadn’t heard him, but sunk her dull claws into the meat of his forearm as he turned the image to her, those dramatic yellow eyes dilating at his coo, “Don’t worry. You’re the only Nori in my life”.

Shouto clicked start.

The first few users are odd, and without tact. Others communicated in languages he couldn’t understand. He stuck around regardless—luckily the developers had thought to include a translation tool, and Shouto managed to befriend one or two people with innocuous pictures he’d taken on previous patrols alone.

Then there’s…

XpLoveGuest ▻ Hey sexy

By that point early evening had already flooded through his balcony doors and drenched everything in a gauzy orange glow. His nose wrinkled. “You have no idea what I look like,” he thought aloud, switching to his right hand to roll the ache from his left wrist

▻ ASL?

Shouto frowned in faint confusion. He minimised the app to search up the term. Results flowed in, and after a brief look over everything he discovered they all repeated the same description. It’s an old acronym.

His thumbs tapped across the keyboard in quick succession.

Sooba ▻ Age: 27 ▻ Location: Tokyo ▻ Sex: No thank you

The chat immediately disappeared. A loading symbol blinks in the centre of the screen. He snorted, and suddenly a new chat opened with a different username blinking at the top corner. It’s a bit on the nose.

‘InsertNameHere’.

You shared the same default cat icon, which he took as an immediate plus.

But a minute elapsed and nobody spoke. There was an unusual trepidation on your part. Shouto chewed his bottom lip. He contemplated starting the conversation when suddenly three dots skipped across the screen, indicating the other user was typing something.

InsertNameHere ▻ You’re not going to send me a picture of your dick, are you? ▻ If you have one that is.

Shouto’s mouth parted in soft surprise, then pressing defensively thin, and he had glanced around his living room as though someone were there to witness this weirdness alongside him.

Sooba ▻ I have one.

InsertNameHere ▻ Ok. Well I don’t want to see it.

Sooba ▻ It sounds like you see a lot of dicks.

Not once taking his eyes away from the screen, Shouto felt for the TV remote and paused the show, brow arching at your next response.

InsertNameHere ▻ And it sounds like you’re new here.

Sooba ▻ I am. My friend recommended I try this to cure my boredom while I recover.

A few beats passed. He eyed the countdown looming over your shared interaction, conscious of how little time is left. You were the first interesting person he’s come across. Though he supposed that isn’t saying much.

InsertNameHere ▻ Recover? That sounds bad. Are you alright?

Sooba ▻ Injury at work. I’ll be fine in a few weeks.

Just as you were beginning to respond, the timer cut out. Shouto reflexively expelled his frustration and Nori lifted her head toward the abrupt movement of his chest, ears twitching. She blinked up at him in disapproval for shaking her. “Sorry sweet girl,” he murmured, wearing a small smile as he scratched under her chin. So temperamental.

A familiar pop up in the cartoonish shape of a postcard covered the chat. Your messages blurred into the background. It read: Do you wish to continue corresponding?

Shouto clicked ‘Yes’. And apparently you did too, because your contact pinned itself to his in-app mailbox.

A melodic chime pinged from his phone. Confetti burst across the off white background in pixelated blooms.

✎ CONGRATULATIONS! You have a new pen pal ✐

InsertNameHere ▻ Guess I can keep you company in the meantime. ▻ You’re the only sane person I’ve come across so far.

Shouto smiled, even as the muscles in his cheeks protested. It’s a stubborn reminder of his condition. He repositioned himself to lessen the strain on his wrists, chin tucked to his chest where his phone is propped, and said:

Sooba ▻ I’d like that. :)

The fortnight that followed is slow to pass. An endless cycle of wake, stretch, eat, lightly exercise as instructed by his physiotherapist, play with Nori, eat, watch Quirky Hearts, stretch. Midoriya stopped by, bringing Iida along with him. Jirou sent him playlists to listen to. Fuyumi called every evening and shared the phone with his mother, gentle in their fretting. He assures them all that he’s coping just fine from the Shouto-shaped depression in his couch cushions.

But there’s also you; the stream of consciousness keeping his seams together, lest he fall apart from the complete and utter boredom he’s been forced to endure. In the beginning he wasn’t sure of the rules. Talking online is not his forte and neither is making new friends. That entire first morning was spent ruminating whether or not texting you ‘good morning’ was strange, and estimating how many times was appropriate to message you before he violated some invisible social boundary.

Normal had been irrelevant until now. Normal, to Shouto, consisted of avoiding his father’s phone calls, sending the occasional concussive text message—indecipherable to even the greatest cryptanalysts—and giving Nori updates in the 1A Grad group chat.

Sometimes he’ll open the app to see you typing, pausing, typing. Imagining you, a faceless someone, equally uncertain about your footing pleases him a little. In the end he figured if you didn’t want to talk to him, you wouldn’t respond. Evidenced by how you often saved him the trouble by messaging first, sometimes as early as five o'clock in the morning. Apparently you worked irregular hours in a rather unpredictable industry. Shouto weighs the possibility that you might be a fellow hero—or something close—more than he cared to admit.

Any trepidation he felt would always dwindle as soon as a notification lit up on the screen. He reads your username and his insides turn over.

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ve escaped to the break room. ▻ Do you ever think about how we don’t have muscles in our fingers? How fucked up is that?

Shouto smirks, pulled away from the conversation at hand. He unlocks the phone in his lap, beneath the kotatsu to remain hidden, an attempt at being inconspicuous as he replies.

Sooba ▻ I try not to think too much about anything.

You throw back a few laughing emoticons and satisfaction washes over him. “You’ve been texting a lot. Who’s got you smiling like that?” Natsuo asks slyly. He’s cross legged, tie tossed irreverently over his shoulder, shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms, having come straight from work. “A special someone?”

Shouto forces the muscles in his face to relax into feigned nonchalance. “Nobody. Nothing,” he says unconvincingly.

Rei enters the room with a modest tray of dango before Natsuo can open his big mouth. She’s wearing a bi-coloured hoodie. The sleeves slip as she sets the treats down on the table beside the green tea Fuyumi brewed earlier; another gift from Yaoyorozu’s family travels. Natsuo’s face twitches under Shouto’s unbroken stare, which is daring him to bring it up while their mother is here.

Then his phone vibrates and any possibility of peace is shattered.

His mother glances curiously at him, expression soft in the dewy afternoon light, and she smiles. “Are you speaking to one of your friends?” she asks. “Please tell Deku ‘thank you’ for sending me your new Shouto hoodie. It’s very warm”.

The words fill something cavernous inside him. Soothes the ache with gentle wonderment. She smiles down at his hero logo printed proudly across her chest, rubbing the hem between her finger and thumb. A younger Shouto could have only ever imagined it.

“I’m not so sure it’s a friend this time,” Natsuo teases, spoken with a playful, sing-song cadence. “Shouto wouldn’t text at the table and risk facing Fuyumi’s wrath just for a friend”.

Shouto does not pout. “I would risk anything for my friends,” he says, affronted; anything maybe except his older sister's well intentioned nagging. “…It’s a new friend, that’s all”.

Rei perks up, settling on her knees and laying the kotatsu blanket over her thighs. The quiet sound of plates and cups clinking together fade in from the kitchen. Natsuo hums, unconvinced, and hides a smile behind his mug. It's moments like this, when the people he loves are gathered in one place, and he can hear them in every corner of his home, that he’s glad for buying a smaller apartment.

“That’s wonderful, Shouto,” Rei murmurs as Fuyumi pads into the room, Nori not long behind her, threading through his elder sister's ankles. She too arrived right after work, donning a suit-skirt and blouse. “What’s their name?”

His thoughts stutter. Fuyumi’s nose wrinkles seeing the panic stark on his face. “Who are we talking about?”

“Beats me. Ask him,” Natsuo says, taking a stick of dango between his teeth as he tries not to grin when Shouto’s phone vibrates a second time. “I want to know who’s so eager to talk to my little brother”.

InsertNameHere ▻ Sooooobaaaaaaa ▻ I’m on my lunch keep me company

Shouto snatches up his phone to respond. He brings it closer to his face to allow Nori access to his lap. She monopolises the space instantly. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Shouto,” Fuyumi laments. “No phones during family time”.

“I know. I’m sorry, nee-san. I just need to…” his thumbs dance over the keyboard, head ducked in amalgamated shame and apology.

Sooba ▻ Question ▻ InsertNameHere ▻ What is your name?

InsertNameHere ▻ At the personal info stage already? You move fast. ▻ Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.

That stirs a faint unease in his gut and he understands better then. Anonymity is what gives people a sense of security and he isn’t exempt from that. In truth, right now he doesn’t want to know what might change if you knew who was on the other end yet.

Sooba ▻ You can call me whatever you want.

“Shouto”.

InsertNameHere ▻ That’s not even a line is it. ▻ Man. You’re dangerous.

Sooba ▻ ???

Shouto stares at the flickering dots by your username. You type, then stop. Type, then stop. As if you were deleting and starting over again. A habit of yours he’s quite endeared to. “Shouto!” Fuyumi huffs, poking a manicured finger into his side. Though short, the nail still causes him to flinch, and he’s quick to stretch his phone out of reach as her hand swipes through the air. “I mean it!”

Nori is jolted. She voices her immediate displeasure and Rei titters into her sleeve. The sleeve with his name stitched into the fabric. He breath catches, like it always does when his mother laughs. “Shouto doesn’t have to tell us anything until he’s ready,” she assured, offering him a gentle look—a look so sincere he feels awful for being evasive.

And his feeble resolve fractures.

“I don’t know,” he confesses bluntly. Natsuo and Fuyumi frown, at one another and then back at him, in unsettling synchrony cultivated through siblinghood. Shouto shrugs and pulls at a stray thread in his jeans cut loose under Nori’s claws, “I can’t tell you a name because I don’t know it”.

Natsuo appears mildly surprised. Fuyumi sinks into disbelief, feet curled beneath her body, going lax at his side. She drops her arm. “You… don’t know it?” she repeats.

“The app is anonymous,” he supplies hastily, attention flickering to his mother, far more worried about discerning her reaction. She’s unreadable. “My name isn’t on there either. We just talk about stuff”.

“Stuff?” his siblings' voices overlap, told apart only by the difference in tone. Natsuo’s shock has melted into some strange mix of pride and innuendo. “Is it that penpal thing everyone has been talking about? Enigma?”

“Enigmail,” he mutters. Natsuo lights up. Fuyumi does not share the sentiment.

“You’re a hero, Shouto! What if it’s someone with bad intentions?” she frets, brows drawn down and together, mouth pressed thin. “They could be tricking you. The internet is rife with predators, and—!”

“Nee-san. I’m a grown man. I understand the importance of internet safety,” Shouto interjects.

Natsuo slumps onto the table with a mawkish sigh, the sound steeped in fondness. “Let him have fun. You know he’s right, ‘Yumi, he’s an adult. It’s a wonder where all that time went,” he says. A few beats later he’s abruptly straightening his spine, “Gods, Fuyumi. You’re almost thirty five!”

Fuyumi glares from behind her glasses. She reaches across the kotatsu and swats lightly at his bicep, “Do you have to say it like that? You’re thirty one!”

“Please. Stop arguing,” Shouto says. He pets the unperturbed cat curled up on his thighs, “You might startle Nori”.

“Shouto. She’s deaf”.

Rei cuts their bickering short as she breathes, “When did you all get so big…” a serene smile hung on her lips, not a hint of grief to be seen. The answers surrounding your identity—or lack thereof—are lost to the nostalgia cloying in his throat.

They return to enjoying tea and dango after that. Shouto sets his phone face down on the floor and turns off vibrate. For now, he wants to ward off further interrogation.

His mother intuits this and steers the conversation in another direction, “Natsuo, how have things been at your new job? Are they treating you well?”

Things are good. Fuyumi’s class would soon be graduating, an award for Best Teacher polished and positioned on her desk. Natsuo had landed the job he always wanted—a medical welfare officer working closely with trauma survivors—and was already making waves. His mother, Rei, finally finished cultivating her traditional garden, weaving tales of lush foliage and water spouts. Touya too has been improving in his rehabilitation programme, according to his psychiatrist’s reports.

A tremor quakes through the tendons in Shouto’s forearm as he lifts his tea to sip the remaining dregs. Yaoyorozu outdid herself this time. If he hadn’t already known the price he would have discerned it from the refreshing, uniquely sweet taste. Thoughts of you cross his mind in these instances without warning. Would you like it? What’s your favourite tea?

Shouto scrunches his eyes shut as if it might wash those thoughts away. How is it that the stranger in his pocket possesses the ability to awaken such yearning in him; he feels mildly ashamed to have realised his loneliness with an audience.

The hour rolls into another. Shouto scrapes the last dango along the skewer with his teeth, jutting his chin to evade Nori’s curious sniffing. “This was lovely, Shouto. Thank you for having us over,” Fuyumi expressed as she carefully ran her hand along the feline's back.

Sensing the finality, Shouto motions to stand and sets Nori on the couch. Everyone protests it. He huffs, sliding a crutch over from where they lay nearby and letting it take his weight. A good decision, he thinks, inwardly grimacing as the blood rushes to his feet, prickling like violent white noise under his skin, and his knee almost gives out.

“I’m okay. The doctor told me I should be trying to move around more anyway,” he tells them, deigning to mention that he expended most of his energy tidying up this morning before their visit. “You’re my guests. I want to walk you to the door”.

Shouto tries not to bristle under their wary scrutiny. A cool hand slips around his arm then. His mother’s natural chill seeps through the sleeve of his shirt and allays the irritation. “We appreciate it, sweetheart,” she says.

“We do,” Fuyumi gently insists. “We’re happy to see you recovering well. Right, Natsu—?”

“Kiss tax!” Natsuo exclaims, oblivious to his surroundings. He scoops Nori up from the arm of the couch. She is comically tiny pressed against his chest. A continuous indignant drone rumbles in her throat as his brother peppers firm kisses to the top of her head.

“Put my baby down,” Shouto deadpanned.

“She isn’t your baby,” Natsuo slides one hand under Nori, the other carefully tucked into her armpits. He holds her close to Shouto’s face. Dramatic round eyes stare back; a flat expression emphasised by prominent cheekbones. Barely a hair's breadth between them, Nori begins to swipe her rough tongue against his scarred cheek. “See? You’re her baby”.

“Mine, too,” Rei rises to her tiptoes and scratches behind Nori’s ear, turning a smile toward Shouto. That same hand moved to cup his cheek. Though far taller than his mother, Shouto tips his head and finds himself feeling incredibly small as she presses a kiss to his forehead. “Your hair is getting long again,” she adds as she pulls away.

“I can trim it if it’s bothering you,” Fuyumi nods, sidling up beside Rei to survey the growth together. She brushes back the wayward strands framing his face and Shouto blinks. “Though, I think I like this look on you. What’s it called? A wolfcut?”

“I’m not sure. This is how Mina cut it a few months ago,” he replies.

Natsuo interjects without Nori in his grasp, now notably covered in short cat hair. He claps Shouto on the back and pulls him into a firm side hug, “She did good. Our handsome little Shouto”.

Initiating physical affection with his family was still a weary affair after all this time, though patently one sided. Having them touch him so freely always left him a little stupefied.

After they depart, Shouto hobbles to find his phone with all the grace of a newborn fawn. It is face down under the kotatsu cover right where he left it. And as it blinks to life, he skips the notifications from the 1A group chat to find your screen name at the bottom.

InsertNameHere ▻ My boss has these awful little nicknames for everyone in the agency. Mine’s ‘Maestro’. Nerd and butterfingers, too, but mostly Maestro. ▻ To do with my quirk and role, I suppose. Good for morale etc. His creativity astounds me (๑ಕ̴ _̆ ಕ̴) ﾝ？ ▻ Not that I don’t appreciate it but. Well shit, what about my morale? Lol ▻ You there? ▻ Sorry if I scared you off by getting personal.

Shouto worries at his bottom lip. Maestro. Something new about you. A foreign feeling churned in his chest. Faint, barely there, but new enough for him to notice. He’s not sure how to pin it; whether your mention of working at an agency bothers him or the fact that others, people who are not Shouto, get to see you everyday, close enough to give you a personal nickname.

Sooba ▻ Sounds like you have a good relationship. I’ve got a close friend who sounds similar. People say it’s just his love language ha ▻ And you didn’t scare me off. I’m the one who asked. Some family came to check on me.

He barely thinks it over before adding:

▻ My mother said hi by the way.

Your reply isn’t immediate but it is quicker than he expects.

InsertNameHere ▻ You’re right. I do like my boss sometimes. Maybe. And I love this job but I think it has aged me ten years. My ulcers have ulcers! ▻ Also—telling your family about me now too? We really are moving fast.

A soft huff of laughter jumps in his throat. There’s a distant clamoring near the kitchen. The sound of Nori’s bowl being pushed around the tile. Her absence clicks in place when he looks at the clock. He should feed her soon.

Sooba ▻ Technically it was only my mother, older sister and brother. ▻ But I can relate about the work stuff.

InsertNameHere ▻ Yeah? You mentioned being on leave because of an injury. Do you like your work?

That’s a question he has never asked himself, nor has he ever felt the need to. Heroism was the path life handed to him. The path he ultimately followed of his own volition. Shouto loves his family, his friends. He’s good at his job—enough to have made it into the top ten. And isn’t that all that matters?

Sometimes he would take a long, weary look out the revolving agency doors, recognise the heaviness in his bones and give the entire thing a second thought. But that never made any difference. Because people needed him. And he needed them too.

There’s a fleeting urge in that instance; a temptation to come clean, if only to sate his own curiosity. To compare the idealised image of what you looked like or how you sounded. He’s spent many a shameful night thinking up romanticised scenarios in his mind about what it would be like to meet you in real life. Shouto always squashes it. He doubts you’d believe him.

Ever perceptive to his moods, Nori chooses that moment to pad in from the kitchen and sit herself directly in his line of sight. She wails, demanding attention and lacking any volume control.

Right now he is not a hero but a man alone on two unsteady legs with a small living thing reliant upon him. He’s just Todoroki Shouto. He’s just—

Sooba ▻ As of right now my occupation is ‘Nori’s dad’. I like it pretty well.

Your reply is immediate.

InsertYourName ▻ Oh you have a kid?

Nori’s frustration grows. Her tail swishes back and forth, agitated. “It isn’t time to eat yet,” Shouto tells her, pulling up his phone camera and zooming in. On her next yowl the shutter goes off. The picture is perfect. Mouth wide open, large ears flat and nose wrinkled in displeasure, lips curled up to display her pink gums.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_0243] ▻ Something like that.

It’s a risk and he knows it. Though infrequently his team has posted Nori to his social media in the past at the delight of his fans—she was younger in those pictures, but if you were well acquainted with him there was the possibility of you putting the puzzle pieces together.

InsertNameHere ▻ Oh my god sooba. She’s so cute. Give her everything she asks for, you monster. ▻ Hey. Are those Ingenium themed crutch pads?

Anxiety rockets through him. He pulls up the photo and sure enough, his crutches are in the corner of the frame, laid within reach beside the couch. Secured around the handles are Ingenium themed pads to cushion his palms.

Sooba ▻ They are.

InsertNameHere ▻ Is he your favourite hero?

He turns his phone over in his hands before he types, overcome by an abrupt restlessness.

Sooba ▻ One of them. ▻ Do you have a favourite hero?

Nori wanders off in his periphery and not long after he hears the telltale sound of cardboard being torn apart. You stop typing, replies coming to a halt. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

It becomes clear you’re offline. Shouto spends the evening imagining your answer—ducking sheepishly at the idea that you might say him, then cringing at his reaction—and reading through his work emails.

Partnering with Hawks hasn’t been the worst thing in the world. Despite his carefree demeanour and general lack of personal space Hawks was professional and meticulous when it came to his work. As promised, Shouto was CC’d into every important thread and forwarded every significant incident report each day. Apparently there’s a big fundraiser tonight that he is unable to attend.

Hawks suggests matching Endeavor’s donation in spirit. Shouto doubles it.

The night air barely touches him. Leaning against the balcony railing he surveys the cityscape. A kaleidoscope canvas. He stares until the pinpricks of light stretch and bend, streaking his vision, regaining shape when he blinks. Nori is curled around his calf, playfully kicking her back legs at his ankle. She’s careful to never break skin.

It’s nearing midnight when you get back to him. A disconcertingly vague reply of:

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ve had enough of heroes.

Shouto waits for you to elaborate before presuming anything nefarious. He would hate for Fuyumi to be correct. She’d never let him forget it.

▻ Shit that made me sound bad, didn’t it? I promise I’m not a villain

He snorts, reclining himself into one of the chairs on his patio. Yaoyorozu insisted upon helping decorate the space. This piece in particular had been chosen by Uraraka, if only for its cocoon, egg-like shape. She always sat in it if she came over; Shouto can’t say he blames her, now curling up inside it himself, leaving one foot flat to the floor for Nori to cling to.

Sooba ▻ Only a little bit lol.

InsertNameHere ▻ I just mean for today! I’ve had enough for today! ▻ There’s… a whole lot of them at this work event I’m attending is all. ▻ See! ▻ [IMG_0589]

It’s the first picture you’ve ever sent to him that wasn’t a meme. Your legs are crossed, turned inward to show more of the showroom floor. There are people everywhere. You’ve overturned your lanyard in your lap, straps dotted with the charity logo, to display the back of your security pass. No identification. Just proof that you’re there—

Proof that you’re a real person, giving colour to the vague, shapeless figure in his head. The figure once outlined only by random tidbits, like your favourite food, the music you like, the movies you loved as a child. The figure now clad in tight fitting, seemingly pearlescent sheer material from the waist down.

—Shouto swallows dryly.

You have nice hands. He tries not to linger on that.

▻ That’s why I disappeared, btw. Sorry about that. ▻ I feel weirdly underdressed.

The logo on your lanyard has recognition prickling in the back of his mind. Hours earlier Midoriya had texted him two pictures from the ‘HEROKIND’ fundraiser Hawks mentioned. One being a selfie of him and an aggrieved Bakugo, each wearing their own fitted suit, and another of Uraraka in an evening gown stood behind the imposing silhouette that was his father, stealthily pointing her middle finger at his back.

He saved that one to his camera roll.

Sooba ▻ In that case I will close the HPSC anonymous tip line ▻ Sometimes people try too hard at those events and forget why they’re there. You look good from what I see.

InsertNameHere ▻ How very gracious (´・｀ ) ▻ Sounds like you have some experience with this kind of thing. My condolences lmao ▻ But thank you. I’m glad you think so.

Shouto entertains the idea of sending you something back. His eyes surreptitiously flicker around as though being watched. Nothing revealing who he is, but enough to maybe—

The camera captures a few of the modest flower beds and cat grass lining his balcony, Nori coiled around his bare ankle. He looks at his hand. Shuffles his hips further down to mirror your angle and flexes his fingers in his lap. Heat floods his body, guided by the shameless desire to inform the image you might have of him in your own head, too.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_288] ▻ At least you’re having more fun than I am.

You type for a long ten second interval. Then restart. A tedious minute elapses and just as regret creeps in, your messages come through.

InsertNameHere ▻ I’m not so sure about that. ▻ Actually it would probably be more bearable if you were here with me.

The sound of his heartbeat floods his ears. So warm it’s like he’s standing under the sun. Shouto belatedly realises it’s just his quirk, as the steam blows out through his nose. Nori butts his ankle in complaint. He bends to take her into his arms, feeling ridiculous and somewhat bad at being a person.

Sooba ▻ Think so? ▻ Just so you know I have been called socially inept on numerous occasions.

InsertNameHere ▻ Then we can hide together in the corner, get tipsy and sneak bits of the fancy spread.

This—doesn’t happen to Shouto. “Nori. I have feelings for a person I’ve never seen,” he pushes his face into Nori’s fur, and she purrs, feeling the vibrations of his voice. Admitting it aloud only highlights the absurdity. He feels out of his depth. And he decides he’s glad for the anonymity. Grateful, even. Lest he publicly humiliate himself and set off every fire alarm in the vicinity.

Sooba ▻ That sounds perfect.

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ll hold you to that. There’s another one of these coming up in two weeks. ▻ Prepare yourself (ꈍᴗꈍ)

“You’re really not helping,” he continues. Nori rubs insistently under his chin. “Fine, fine. I get it,” She croaks as he presses into the touch, mimicking her movement and cradling her as he gets up.

Before retiring to bed he pulls up Yaoyorozu’s contact. He settles into a comfortable position in the covers, propping his phone on his stomach, and he types:

Shouto : 00:14

I think I need help.

Consciousness eases into him slowly. It’s a sleepy pastel morning. Dust dances in the soft spotlight cast through his curtains. Shouto’s jaw unhinged to release a long yawn, limbs stretching every which way under the covers as his joints click.

Shouto props up on his elbow, twisting in place to reach and unplug his phone. He blinks away the blurriness hemming his vision and squints at the stack of messages from Enigmail right at the top of his notifications.

InsertNameHere ▻ Oh shit. Hero Shouto donated double the amount of what Endeavor gave and he couldn’t even be here tonight. That’s hilarious. Can that guy get any hotter ▻ I didn’t intend for that to be a pun. ▻ These cocktails are becoming suspiciously easy to drink. ▻ You’re probably sleeping like a good boy but I miss you. Wake up! ▻ Have you ever had feelings for someone you’ve never met

The loose tongued messages stop there, at around one o’clock in the morning. Then there’s a seven hour jump to only ten minutes ago.

▻ Oh my god. Please ignore all of that. And then kill me.

Hardly awake, sleepsand still crusty at the corners of his eyes, Shouto’s mind reels as he considers pinching himself. He doesn’t know which part to focus on. Your apparent—and unknowing—attraction to him as a public figure or the implication that you had feelings for Sooba.

But you’re obviously embarrassed. So he bites back a smile and starts with something simple.

Sooba ▻ Good morning to you too ▻ Remember to drink water and take some bufarin.

Sitting upright with legs hung over the bed, Shouto clicks out to his text app by way of distraction. There’s another photo from Midoriya. This time it’s just him. Speckled light glitters along his cheeks, expression beaming as the hero holds a piece of sashimi in front of his pink face. Shouto heart reacts to the text.

InsertNameHere ▻ Send more Nori

He chuckles, sleepy. That makes known Nori’s absence. Strange, he muses. She is usually the one to wake him. Rather than search he scrolls through his albums to find a photo you hadn’t seen yet. It was taken a few months ago. He’d slipped his camera under her chin and pressed the shutter when she looked down, looming over the viewer with a dumbfounded look.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_142]

After a few minutes with no response, assuming that you had accepted his bribe and sought out some painkillers, Shouto braced against his bedside table and stood, phone in hand. Every muscle in his body felt like wet sand, held together by too tight skin. This morning, though, the incessant ache that beat alongside his heart was gone.

Walking still felt as though he was wading through molasses but strength was steadily returning to his physique.

The floor is cool under the soles of his feet as they shuffle down the hallway. There’s a noise in the kitchen that gives Shouto pause. A voice, hushed yet high pitched voice, cooing like someone might to an infant.

He drops into an ungainly defensive stance, pyjama bottoms and all. Worst case scenario they at least hang low on his hips, loose around his legs, leaving room for flexible movement. He rounds the corner without a sound.

And relief beats like a drum in his chest.

Yaoyorozu meets his gaze from the kitchen island where one hand is petting a very happy Nori, sipping from a glass of water with the other. Her face is bare, shadows soft under her eyes, hair pulled haphazardly into a low ponytail as if she had just rolled out of bed and rushed here. Creati in a bleach stained hoodie and leggings. The press would have a field day.

The sight brings a small smile to his face. Their schedules have been misaligned for months. It’s good to see her—if only her expression had not then darkened. “Todoroki Shouto,” she says with all the authority of an older sibling, “What on earth was that text last night? You had me worried sick”.

“Text?” he parrots dumbly, looking to check his phone.

InsertNameHere ▻ Painkillers acquired. Thank you Nori ▻ I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night.

“I let myself in with the key you gave me. I hope that was alright,” she continues, quiet and apologetic now. He skims over your reply and switches to check his text app. Sure enough the last thing he sent to her was an ambiguous plea for help.

“Of course it’s alright,” he replies, regarding her with a meaningful look to cover for how sheepish he truly feels. “I gave you the key because you’re always welcome here”.

Yaoyorozu smiles on the end of an exhale, idle hands smoothing down Nori’s cheeks. “Of course,” she echoes, examining his form closely now her anxiety is assuaged. Over him comes the muted awareness that he’s being judged. “How about we go on a short walk for once, since I’m here? The weather is quite pleasant”.

Shouto steps forward with mouth downturned, “Momo, I assure you I’m fine. You don’t need to walk me like a dog,” he says, wincing thereafter at his bluntness. She only hums.

“When was the last time you went anywhere?”

Very uselessly he replies, “I go places”.

Yaoyorozu’s potential to lead and assert had never escaped him, not even in his teenage years, and it was something he staunchly admired her for. But never has he resented his own affinity for compliance more than he does the moment she ignores his pouting and tells him to finish his morning gait training and get changed.

Dressed casually and statuesque in the centre of his living room, left leg lifted to mimic a flamingo, Shouto’s limbs shake far less than previous days. He can hold his phone while he balances now, too. You haven’t sent any new messages. Probably waiting for him to assure you that he isn’t upset, but even so he’s a smidge disappointed.

Sooba ▻ I’m here. A friend appeared in my kitchen. ▻ You don’t need to apologise for anything, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I've received worse drunk texts I assure you.

He switches to his right leg and chews the inside of his cheek. Facing villainy was far less daunting than navigating his feelings.

▻ I thought it was cute.

That’s about as brave as he felt today.

Yaoyorozu resurfaces from the coat closet with a jacket in hand and a pep in her step. There’s something else coiled around her wrist. Nori’s cat leash, red and attached to a blue harness, matching Shouto’s hero colours.

“Can we bring her along?” she asks, bouncing in place. Upon recognising the leash Nori makes her opinion known, releasing a drawn out yowl. “Oh please, Shouto”.

Nori didn’t regularly enjoy walking but she had been trained to do so from a young age. She was peculiar and picky, and Shouto trusted her to let him know if ever she wanted anything—something she never failed to do.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, bending to tap her nose. It wrinkles, a stray tooth flashing between her lips. “If you get tired I won’t carry you”.

Nori blinks. A lie and they both know it.

Shouto sighs, defeated. “Okay. She hasn’t wanted to in a while so I can’t really deny her”.

“Wonderful,” Yaoyorozu breathes, handing him his jacket before undoing the harness and crouching to slip Nori’s paws through one by one. “We can grab a warm drink to go from the cafe downstairs and talk”.

Shucking the jacket on and flattening the collar, Shouto dithers in the genkan with his crutches nearby. He tucks the wayward strands of hair into a knitted hat and loops his mask around his ears. The scar couldn’t be helped but atleast this way a majority of people would not think to look twice.

They leave the apartment together, all three. In the short time it takes to step out of the building's lobby you still haven’t replied. He shoves his free hand in his pocket, fingers clasped around his phone in case it vibrates.

The establishment across from Shouto’s home has been open for longer than he’s been alive. An elderly couple named Pierre-Louis and Tsutomu run the place. The two men moved back to Japan decades ago to care for Tsutomu’s sick mother, and with Pierre-Louis’ incredibly unusual coffee quirk ‘Bean Boost’, opening a cafe seemed the right route to take.

Since moving here they’ve endeared themselves to Shouto. If they see him on his way to work Tsutomu will often rush to offer him a takeout cup. This morning is no different.

“Mon petit chou!”

Tsutomu slides open the walk up window and calls his name, beckoning them closer. The breeze tousles the short grey curls around his ears. Shouto’s heart near stops when the older man leans out to greet Nori as she stretches upward and almost loses balance. “Tsutomu-san, please be careful,” he says.

“I am still rather spry, young man. Don’t worry about me,” he returns happily, gaze moving to Yaoyorozu when he rights himself. “Lovely to see you again, Momo-chan. Have you come to rescue our prince from his cave?”

Indignant, Shouto grumbles, “I wish you would all stop acting as though I’m a hermit. I haven’t been stuck indoors that long”.

The two level him with a look of doubt. Tsutomu gently pinches his cheek and rubs a thumb over the swell above the mask. “Your pallor betrays you, Shouto. Let the sun kiss you more, no? We worry”.

“Tout va bien?” another voice interjects. Pierre-Louis squeezes up next to his husband, ignoring his disgruntled noise, and brightens when he sees Shouto on the other side. “Mon chou, you’ve emerged! And with two beautiful girls at your side”.

Yaoyorozu muffled a laugh while Nori busied herself chewing on the nearby grass, leash never pulling too far. “Pierre-Louis,” Shouto murmurs, unable to keep the fond lilt out of his voice. “It’s good to see you both”.

“And you,” he beams. The wrinkles by his eyes deepen. Shouto never met his grandparents but he thinks perhaps this is the closest he’ll get. “Are you going anywhere special?”

“We’re just taking a walk, Pierre-Louis. I thought it might be nice to get a warm drink for the journey,” Yaoyorozu spoke warmly and nudged his side. “Where better than here?”

“Bien sûr! Will that be one earl grey and one green tea?”

Shouto nods at her questioning glance, “Loose leaves today, please”, he adds.

Pierre-Louis disappears to make their drinks, shortly returning with two takeout cups, steam pluming softly from the mouth. Shouto swaps his crutch to his right side and accepts the green tea with his left hand, heat seeping through the cardboard sleeve.

“How much will it be—?”

“Nonsense,” Tsutomu interrupts with a sudden switch to English. He shakes his finger, silencing any protest, and his husband gives a resolute nod in support. “Take it, mon chou. Call it a family discount”.

Shouto bids them a dazed goodbye, leaving the walk up window; a lump in his throat that he tries to wash down with hot heat, tongue impervious to the temperature. “They’re very sweet. I’m glad you have them,” Yaoyorozu muses. “What is it they call you? ‘Chou’?”

“Mon petit chou,” he repeats clumsily, accent slightly gawky. “I asked Aoyama a while ago and he told me it means ‘my little cabbage’”.

Yaoyorozu pauses and Nori continues ahead, leaping up onto a nearby half wall with her tail hooked high. She pounces on a crack between the bricks, blissfully unaware of the nearby traffic, trying to eat a ladybug.

“My little cabbage?”

Shouto hums, squinting up at the early sun, rising in a blanket of pale blue and mottled grey clouds. The air is refreshingly cool. “Apparently it’s something French parents call their children,” he shrugs, as though he were not then warmed from the inside out at the reminder that they truly did see him as one of their own.

“That’s lovely,” she says, slowing to match his pace. He’s not tired so much as he is enjoying the morning dew. They follow a familiar path. Turning down a hidden narrow walkway that leads to a neighbourhood park. Nori’s chitters fill the spaces left by comfortable silence.

Yaoyorozu suggests sitting at one of the picnic tables. Tall trees flanked the area on either side, columns rising to create a weave of foliage that shrouded them in gold. The old wood is cold under his thighs. Nori hops up onto the bench, ears flat to her head, and hisses at a dog across the way which hasn’t even noticed her presence.

“So,” Shouto glances over toward Yaoyorozu as she speaks. Her arms are settled on the tabletop, fingers curled around the disposable cup and swirling the liquid inside. “Are you going to tell me what you were panicking about last night?”

He picks at the cardboard sleeve, twisting it, and supposes this was inevitable. Slipping down his mask, Shouto brings the tea to his lips in distraction, grasping for a way to articulate his situation without simply saying: “I have feelings for my anonymous online friend”.

In the end he realises there really isn’t any other way.

Yaoyorozu listens intently, as he expected she would. Of all his well intentioned friends Shouto knew she’d be the most open to his reasoning. Her expression visibly softens while he wrings his hands and rambles about the palpable connection that he first attributed to his own loneliness—

Rambles about you; you, the one now carried with him everywhere, the presence weaving his days into tapestry; you, accepting of his random thoughts, giving of your own; you, unintentional charm and bad jokes and sharp wit; you, faceless and voiceless, the one to receive first and last thought.

He expels his fears. Concerns of who you really are. Of what you might think upon learning his identity—if you wouldn’t like him anymore, or if his own feelings might change after meeting you offline, and if that makes him a terrible, shallow person.

Then he mentions the photo from the Herokind event and her head cocks in interest. “May I see?” she asks. Shouto murmurs his agreement and pulls his phone out from his pocket.

You’ve messaged him.

InsertNameHere ▻ Appeared? Like, teleported?? ▻ I’m glad we’re ok. I would miss you otherwise. ▻ But you can’t know I’m cute. You’ve never seen me lol

Shouto is typing back with unfounded confidence before he realises it.

Sooba ▻ I don’t need to see you to know that.

Then his eyes flicker to Nori, staring up at him clad in her Shouto themed harness, lip caught on her scraggle tooth. He takes a quick picture. Examining it before sending, he notices Yaoyorozu’s slender hands in the background, and wonders if you might be jealous.

He scoffs inwardly at his own childishness and sends the photo.

▻ Not teleported hah, just came in with a spare key. We are out walking now.

“Sorry—I just wanted to reply first,” Shouto clears his throat and presses his phone into her now proffered hand. Given without question.

Something flickers in her expression at your photo; it’s a brief shift that flies over her gaze like a shadow. Her thumbs pinch and part on the screen as she zooms in. “I was there for a few hours last night,” she says. “I recognise this outfit. Would it not be easier to check the list of attendants?”

“…That doesn’t feel fair,” he admits soberly. “I know that’s silly”.

“It’s not silly,” she affirms with a small smile, fingers now moving as she types. “You are aware of your position. You have the resources to find them and presumably they do not. Of course it seems unfair”.

It’s testament to their friendship that he feels no need to check what she’s doing. Her brows furrow slightly, then arch into her hairline, eyes brightening. Pleased, Yaoyorozu locks the device and hands it back.

“What did you do?”

“Don’t worry. I didn't do anything untoward,” she replies. “But I do know who you’re talking to now”.

Shouto’s fingers flex around his phone. “You do?” he breathes, incredulous. Just like that?

Yaoyorozu nods, lending her attention to Nori. “I don’t have a name. But if you want to find them I think you’ll want to speak to Bakugo-kun”.

“Bakugo…?” Shouto echoes.

“I believe your friend may work for him,” she clarifies. Ah. The clamouring in his head comes to a halt. In hindsight it’s clear. Your nicknames make sense now.

“I’ll think about it,” he swallows, bringing his tea to his face for another sip. He finds it tepid and warms it again with his quirk. Yaoyorozu doesn’t push.

They spend the hour catching up on the things Shouto has missed in the weeks he’s been absent, and the weeks prior. Midoriya’s claims of him being a workaholic become a reality he can’t outrun. Tea finished, Shouto takes both cups and disposes of them in the recycling bin. Yaoyorozu stands from the picnic table with Nori cradled to her breast—Nori stares back at him, smug—and they make their way back to his apartment.

“Shouto,” she coaxed, now standing outside the tall glass doors leading to the lobby. Nori’s claws sink into the collar of his jacket as she’s passed to him. He takes her leash from Yaoyorozu, bunching it up; and she covers his enclosed fist with her hand.

“Go for it,” she tells him, giving a firm squeeze. “I’m rooting for you. Just be safe”.

Stepping back into his apartment, his cheeks are warm and his limbs are trembling. You’ve buzzed inside his pocket three times.

InsertNameHere ▻ Oh my god. How can such a perfect creature exist? And her harness! Shouto colours? ▻ I hope you’re having fun. <3 ▻ You know, you never answered my question from last night

“You don’t think I’m hopeless, do you Nori?” Shouto asks the thin air—Nori has already scrambled toward the nearby shoebox, bunny kicking at the corner as she chews. He sighs.

Yaoyorozu’s encouragement rings loud in his ears while he replies.

Sooba ▻ Yes. I think I’ve had feelings for a person I’ve never met.

And it feels like a confession.

Shouto sees the week come to an end before he finds enough strength, physically and mentally, to visit Bakugo’s agency.

Your conversations have evolved. They carry a flirty undertone now, the verbal toeing of the line that makes his heart pitter patter. You send pictures throughout the day. Always angled away from your face. Swathes of skin. A pen between your fingers. Stacked paperwork and an empty coffee cup. The burgeoning skies on your walk home. Comfortable at home, your legs crossed over the other, a fluffy slipper hanging at the end of your foot.

He never knew so much thought had to go into making a photo appear candid, effortless. At one point he purposefully shuffled his workout shorts lower on his hips and spent the remainder of the afternoon mortified with his head deep between the couch cushions.

Liking another person is humiliating. He feels exposed, like a flesh wound that you won’t stop prodding.

InsertNameHere ▻ [IMG_412] ▻ I hope you have a good day!

You’re sitting at your desk, presumably. A slide knot bracelet hangs loose around your wrist. Hand held out over the mouse and keyboard, you’ve pinched your thumb and finger—smudged with black in—together to make a heart shape. It’s cute. You’re cute. He files the pose away for any later run-ins with paparazzi. His PR has been getting on about trying harder when they photograph him for months.

Shouto’s body rocks with the train car as it careens down the tracks and readjusts his grip on his crutch. He smiles behind his mask, sinking into the confines of his hood which he has pulled over his cap. There are eyes on him today. It can’t be helped in such close quarters. But they’re uncertain—too afraid to bother him and be wrong about his identity.

Sooba ▻ You too :) ▻ Remember to take breaks. I read that you should spend five minutes away from your screen every hour.

InsertNameHere ▻ You have to stop making me smile at work. My coworkers think I have a secret husband or something.

Sooba ▻ I promise to send you off with a homemade bento tomorrow morning.

InsertNameHere ▻ And a kiss.

Shouto grabs the nearby pole as he is almost knocked on his feet. Passengers board, others depart, and his heart hammers in his throat like a fist.

Sooba ▻ A kiss?

You’re still typing a reply when Shouto hears the hesitant evocation of his name. It’s timid and hushed, belonging to a person trying to restrain their excitement. She covers her mouth with a gasp when he meets her eyes.

“It is you,” she bubbles. A metallic taste pervades the static air around her, short hair wiggling on end as if it were responding directly to her excitement; behaviour unbefitting of a typical reporter, he notes.

Your text box jumps onto the screen in his peripheral vision, bumping up the chat. He jolts and angles the phone away from her just to be safe.

InsertNameHere ▻ Yeah! A bento box and a kiss to get me through the day, obviously. As my husband.

There are three others a few feet away, huddled together beside a pillar and abuzz with energy. Mild dread churns in his stomach. Definitely not a reporter, then. “If you have a moment…” the young woman spares a glance over her shoulder and her friends excitedly encourage her forward. “Um. Would you maybe be interested in—”

“No,” Shouto replies. The young woman winces at his tone. Ah. She’s embarrassed now. He really should make a habit of lying in consideration for other people's feelings. Fuyumi did mention that, though not in as many words. Before her face can crumple further he continues, “I’m very sorry, that was rude of me. I’m in a bit of a hurry”.

Her relief is palpable, near contagious. Expression softened with understanding she folds her hands against her stomach and ducks into a slight bow. “Of course, I understand,” she says. Somehow it makes him feel worse. “And—I’m glad you’re well, Shouto-san. We’re all wishing you a complete recovery”.

Gratitude bubbles inside him. He smiles, pressing a finger over his mask, and her complexion turns a bright shade of pink. She nods in understanding, scurrying to her friends.

Shouto departs the train without disruption. The conductor takes stock of his gait and the crutch at his side, offering to lay out the ramp, but he politely refuses, stepping onto the platform with ease. He feels good; closer to his other self, the one before his muscles were run through a metaphorical centrifuge.

Sooba ▻ Obviously. ▻ I suppose I can add ‘house husband’ alongside ‘Nori’s dad’ on my list of occupations now.

Blast Zone isn’t far, a fact for which he’s grateful. Bakugo insisted on rooting himself in the centre of the city, right in the spot where all transport routes seemed to meet; there stood the symbol of victory’s headquarters, imposing in the skyline.

According to journalists at PowrStruct magazine The Blast Zone agency is an ode to modern architecture. A steel frame structure surrounded by reinforced concrete, an outer coating embossed with a texture that gives the award winning building the fragile appearance of having been meticulously glued back together while simultaneously being both blast proof and earthquake proof. Shouto cares not for design in general. He does, however, steal a mini Dynamite themed pen from the front desk while he’s waiting to be signed in.

There’s a thin chain attached to the cap with a Chibi Bakugo hung on the end. Sue him.

“He’ll see you now, Shouto-san,” the receptionist states, pupil-less eyes blinking back at him. Shouto tucks the pen into his sleeve, feeling foolish and somewhat nervous. “Head on up to the office on the twelfth floor. He knows you’re on your way”.

Shouto clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says, weakness in his knees that has nothing to do with his nerves. The Ingenium handle pads cushion his palm as he braces onto his crutches, supporting him toward the nearby lift. There are eyes on his back as he goes. They’re heavy, lingering like physical touch. Something in him spoils at the unnecessary pity.

The lift remains mercifully empty. He presses the twelfth floor button and it glows green. The ride up is smooth, and quick. Double doors slide open onto a sprawling office space flooded with natural light. No one bothered to glance in Shouto’s direction as he gawked. If he remembered correctly this area was specifically for employees that worked closest to Bakugo. They’re all so nonplussed and focused. No nonsense. He likes that.

“Loser,” Bakugo grunts. He appeared from thin air, standing aside with arms crossed over his chest, eyeing Shouto’s stiff form with suspicion. “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re still on leave”.

Shouto makes a noncommittal noise, inwardly miffed. He straightens his posture and takes more of his own weight. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. Maybe I missed you,” he says. Bakugo’s expression suddenly soured, as though he swallowed a lemon, mouth thin against his teeth.

Amusing as it is, acknowledging the disconnect aloud makes him truly accept the distance he had put between himself and his friends; how he’d worked too hard, untied himself from the tangle of their lives and ended up isolated.

“Nori told me to say ‘hi’ by the way”.

Bakugo sweetens. “She like that cardboard house I sent you?”

“She already destroyed it,” Shouto admits. And Bakugo laughs, irritation split by a crooked grin.

“Atta girl,” he nods in approval, turning on his heel and starting toward a pair of towering doors. “Oi. You comin’? Or are you going to stand there all damn day?

Dynamite’s office is anything but corporate. Professional, yes, but it’s also so plainly personal in a way that screams Bakugo. A setup reconfigurable for days that he can’t sit still, a folding treadmill under his large mahogany desk to keep him moving. Bakugo works better on his feet, something Shouto knows well.

Built in shelves line the accent wall, filled with framed pictures of friends and family, newspaper clippings and awards. There are even fan creations—mostly from his debut era, when being favoured felt far more significant, but Shouto finds it sweet all the same.

Walking ahead of him, Shouto approaches the desk. Bakugo lingers for a beat to holler something out the door before returning to his desk.

Two consult chairs face the head office chair opposite. Lowering into one of them, Shouto props his crutch up and takes his phone out of his pocket. Ever hopeful, he unlocks it, opens Enigmail and refreshes the chat list. There are new messages from a few other people he added in the beginning, but nothing from you. He tries not to sigh too obviously.

“What’s got you all fuckin’ mopey?" Bakugo leaned over to look down at the phone. Shouto hastily locked it and the explosive hero narrowed his eyes at the impassive veil Shouto pulled over his face.

“Nothing. How did the first Herokind event go?” he asks, fiddling with his newly acquired Dynamite pen. “Midoriya always sugar coats things for me”.

“Went fine. You didn’t miss anything,” Bakugo waves off. The leather office chair creaks as he leans back. “Boring as all hell since it was just the kickstarter. Food mild enough for a toddler to eat and too much alcohol. The auction will be more interesting. That birdbrain partner of yours was hilarious, though”.

“Hawks?” Shouto’s mouth twitches, failing to conceal his mirth. “What did he do this time?”

“Spent the night antagonising your shitty old man,” Bakugo pauses for a brief moment and rescinds his words. “Or aggressively flirting. Can't tell the difference with him”.

Shouto keeps his thoughts to himself on that one.

“Ended with Endeavor triggering all the sprinklers at the after party though,” Bakugo ends, eyes crinkled under the weight of his wicked grin. Shouto pursed his lips tight. Amusement huffed through his nose. He imagines his father standing in the middle of the room, pathetically soaked through, wisps of smoke rising from his put-out embers, and he laughs.

Bakugo looks rather pleased by the reaction. But then his gaze flickers over Shouto’s shoulder and his brow arches expectantly. “Did’ya need something? I shouted for the Egghead because I thought you were on your break”.

Shouto’s laughter dwindles as he follows Bakugo’s line of sight. His breath catches. An employee stands in the doorway peeking around a tall box of paperwork. Wide eyed as they examine him.

Wrapped around their wrist is a familiar sliding knot bracelet.

“I just—uh…”

His head spins. There’s a smudge on your finger where your pen's ink leaked, just like in the photo. Could this be you? You are—

“What the hell has gotten into everybody today,” Bakugo tuts, pushing up from his desk and striding over to receive the box himself. Your shoulders slump when you are relieved of the weight. Bringing your hands to your chest and massaging the joints.

—still looking right at him. Cute. He cannot help but think how cute you are, tripping over your words, losing your footing.

“Oi, maestro,” Bakugo clicks his fingers in your face and startles you out of your stupor. “Get it together. I need you with a clear head when that sleepy bastard from the HPSC gets here”.

You glare at Bakugo, “Mera-san is the least of your problems, Dynamite. Worry about yourself and the six unanswered emails I forwarded to you from the claims manager”.

You’re beautiful. And your voice, it’s so—his lips part, and he tries to speak, to interrupt Bakugo’s incessant teasing, but words fail him.

“Whatever. Those insurance claims are bullshit and you know it,” Bakugo mutters. He turns and moves to shove the box of paperwork beside the desk. His mouth downturns into a smirk when he stands and notices your attention drawn to Shouto once again.

“Is that everything? I’d appreciate it if you stopped gawking,” Bakugo drawls, a dry rasp to his taunting that seems to embarrass you further. Shouto isn’t sure he’s breathing. You’re right there. You’re within reach and he’s rooted to his chair.

“You’re such a—! Y’know what, no, I’m leaving now,” replying harshly you start toward the open door where you come to an abrupt halt. Shouto feels the distance like the pull of a leash. You incline your head into a short bow, losing strength in your voice as you acknowledge him, “Have a good afternoon, Shouto-san”.

Then you’re gone. He stares after you dumbly. In all the years he has worked in the hero industry Shouto has never been more thankful for choosing to make his given name his brand than he is now.

Bakugou falls heavily in his chair and sighs.

Shouto swallows, “Who was—”

“Don’t,” Bakugo stresses the command, as though telling a dog to heel. Shouto can feel the heat behind his pointed glare. Undeterred, his eyes linger after you, stuck on the spot where you once stood, heart beating like a hummingbird’s wing.

“I mean it, Halfie. Run off the only competent PA I’ve ever had with your pisspoor flirting and I will kill you,” Bakugo barrels on. There’s no true malice but it comes through gritted teeth, like he has resigned himself to the impending stupidity. Because Shouto is already looking back at him with that small, impish curl to his lips.

“I’m not that terrible at flirting,” he says.

“Making eye contact for three uninterrupted minutes is not flirting,” Bakugo scoffs.

Shouto hums. “And what is? Pulling their pigtails for ten years?”

“Watch it,” Bakugo grouses, bottom lip jutting. He kicks the leg of Shouto’s chair and he laughs; he’s missed this.

Hoping to get back on track then, Shouto asks, “Will you be attending the charity auction, then?”

The other man grunts an affirmative. “I’ve put some memorabilia and shit up to be sold. Sparky somehow convinced Eijirou to auction himself off for a date,” Bakugo snorts and gives an amused shake of his head. “I’m willing to bet he’ll rake in at least ten million yen. Minimum”.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Shouto agrees. Kirishima had grown a lot since graduation all those years ago. Pair a stocky build with a big hearted guy like him and everyone is tripping over themselves to get a piece. “Is he nervous that he won’t make much?”

Bakugo clicks his teeth, interlocking his hands across his midsection and getting comfortable. “He really hasn’t got a fucking clue. The HPSC schmuck I’ve got to talk to today has already suggested extra security in case certain high profile guests get resentful,” he says. Crimson peeks through narrowed eyes, considering, calculating. “Are you gonna go? You’re looking steady enough”.

The last Bakugo had seen of him was directly after the incident—crumpled into the fetal postion and involuntarily spasming with six second intervals. Unable to speak, to walk, to turn his head. Worst case scenario presented on scene was that he could lose the ability to function at all, and Shouto had been thrown into a pit of depression so oppressive that he withdrew from himself all together.

There’s an underlying relief in Bakugo’s question that comforts him in ways he wasn't aware he’d been seeking. Pleased, Shouto drags his crutch between his thighs and twists at the padding around the handle. “I’ll be in attendance. I plan on bidding on a few things. David Shield’s original design sketches maybe,” he admits. “…Will ‘maestro’ be there?”

Bakugo seems to parse the response carefully, as if it cracked open a hole into Shouto’s psyche. “Izuku is shooting for those, you know. I’m the one that’s gotta deal with him cryin’ if he loses”.

“I know,” Shouto’s mouth splits in a wry, intentional smile. “If I’m not outbid then I’m happy to give him whatever I win”.

“Shill bidding? Ha. Izuku never believes me when I tell him you’re secretly a dick,” Bakugo smirks. A thought visibly crosses his mind. He props his elbow on the arm of his chair, chin resting in his palm and considering Shouto closely. “…My PA will be there for the auction. Working. So if you show me up—”

“I won’t,” Shouto interjects.

“—I will see you to the pearly gates myself,” Bakugo continues, unperturbed. There’s no true malice to his tone, moreso fond resignation, and Shouto’s chest bubbles with affection for his hard headed friend.

“That’s nice of you,” he says sincerely.

“Get fucked. You want an update on the cases we opened this week or did you seriously come here just to annoy me?”

“To annoy you, mostly,” Shouto ducks away from the hand that swiped at him. “Hawks forwarded me the arrest report. Tremor ended up going for a plea deal?”

“Yeah. Sold out the extras that helped him gather the hostages,” a forceful click of the keyboard; Bakugo slaps the spacebar to wake his monitor and makes clear his disapproval. “They went too fuckin’ easy on him,” he sneers. “Deserved a longer sentence”.

“As long as they’re off the streets,” Shouto muses. He isn’t one to hold a grudge against villains who’ve harmed him, but he can understand his friends' frustration. Had it been Bakugo or Midoriya, Shouto too wouldn’t be so quick to accept this outcome.

The gentle light flooding through the office windows recedes a fraction as a dense cloud covers the sun. His visit to the Blast Zone is but a blip of time, cut short by the foreboding ring from Bakugo’s emergency pager. He’s up and moving immediately, routine woven into him like muscle memory, and Shouto can’t help feeling jealous.

Under the door to his office, Bakugo clears his throat. He cocks his head toward the impending rain, “You need me to have someone drive you home?” And appears to regret it right away as Shouto smiles up at him, touched by the suggestion.

“No, thanks but I’ll be fine,” he waves off. Bakugo departs with a grunt, demanding he take an umbrella from the receptionist, because who doesn’t check the weather before they leave the house. The thud of his work boots reverberate off the walls as he disappears around a sharp corner, and Shouto shifts in the residual silence.

He takes out his phone as he pushes upright on his crutch; a habit rather than necessity. You haven’t messaged him since before your paths crossed—though you wouldn’t know that. He sighs. A niggling guilt has burrowed into his chest but it remains largely outweighed by his impatience.

Employees greet him on his short journey to the lift he arrived in. Bowing their heads, evoking his name with appreciation and awe while he’s scanning the space for signs of you. It’s a fruitless affair. Coming up short he steps inside, frown etched into his brow, and presses the ground floor button.

The speaker alerts him that the doors are about to close. He turns on his heel, leaning a hand on the support bar. Looking up from his shoes his eyes fall on your figure. You’ve stepped out from one of the closed off rooms, thumb tapping away at the phone in your hand. Shouto swallows, watching his own with trepidation.

Sensing a heavy gaze your eyes flicker to meet him at the last second, contact through the crack right as it shuts. He can hardly think. If this were a scene in Quirky Hearts he thinks he might just cast aside his dignity and sprint up the fire escape to confront you. The mere idea has heat simmering under his skin; it makes him want to fold himself into singularity. Shouto, a top five hero, a sword without ire.

Waiting dutifully, the receptionist hands him an umbrella from behind the staff desk. He squints at her name tag, muttering “Thank you, Akiyama-san” while he tucks the umbrella under his arm, deigning to mention the murky blueish blush that floods her skin, those pupil-less eyes shimmering. Shouto pulls his mask up over his nose, breath warming his cheeks, and takes a moment to observe the street.

Throngs of people scurry along the pavements to get away from the unforgiving chill. Raindrops can become a thousand paper cuts when the wind wills it. Afternoon starters amble into the lobby with wet shoulders. In his departure nobody so much as looks his way.

Sooba ▻ Hope you didn’t forget an umbrella today. Stay warm.

His thumb stopped mid-air, right above the “send” button. Sparing a lasting glance to the upper floors, Shouto quickly presses it, pockets his phone and opens up the umbrella. Stepping into the storm white noise fills his ears, tapping harshly on the PVC canopy over him.

Shouto tugs his jacket closer to his chest. The pavements are soaked, water fed into the uprooted cracks. He threads through the moving bodies back toward the station. With the streets overcast he feels better concealed.

A train is already waiting at the platform, decorated in yellow. The colour identifies it as a slow running train, taking the local stops route rather than the rapid one. He hides in his collar and stands in the corner of the carriage, umbrella collapsed and hooked over his wrist.

Six stops later—rather than three—and Shouto is closer to home. In the time it took to reach his street the rain had thinned out, now a sparse sun shower as the clouds pushed eastward.

Nori yells accusingly the very second his key slots into the door. He turns the lock and pushes it open, holding out his foot to keep her from rushing past. “I know, I know. I’m sorry sweet girl,” he scratched her head while bent to line up his shoes. “I missed you too. Bakugo said ‘hi’”.

She mewls and circles in place on her delicate paws, flicking her tail at him. Shouto takes it as forgiveness. “I think I met someone special today,” he recites to her, “The one I told you about…”

Stopping in the middle of his warm apartment, Shouto becomes unbearably aware of how damp his clothes are. He fishes his phone and wallet out from his pockets and sets them on the kitchen island before padding toward the bathroom.

A thorough rinse and long soak later, Shouto sprawls himself across his couch, phone laid on his chest and arm hung loosely over the edge while Nori plays with his fingers. She clings to his forearm as he cups her full belly, lazily dragging her back and forth across the floor.

He’s sipping on the mouth of his water bottle, mindlessly watching as Aki-or-something begs for Saeko-or-other to take him back after going on a date with another contestant, when your messages come through on Enigmail.

InsertNameHere ▻ Guess what happened today ▻ Saw Pro Hero Shouto at work. ▻ I think he might hate me? lol

Shouto inhales sharply, choking on his mouthful of water. Tears prickle behind his eyes as his diaphragm spasms, and he tries to catch his breath, fist thudding at his chest. Oscillating between mortification and delight—it really had been you.

Sooba ▻ Why would you think he hates you?

InsertNameHere ▻ I left an awful impression. And he looked at me like this (⊙＿⊙’) the whole time.

Heat burns at his nape; embarrassment spilling over into every crevice of his body. The air around him distorts and he exhales, steam curling from his lips. Nori watches on from the floor in fascination, sparing no sympathy. Maybe Bakugo had a point.

Sooba ▻ Maybe that’s just his face.

InsertNameHere ▻ Maybe… ▻ It is a pretty face though. Prettier in person.

Shouto feels all the air deflate from his body. He sinks into the couch, head lolling against his shoulder as he turns to press a grin into the cushions, gripped by a sudden rush of endorphins. It had been you. You’re real. More importantly, you are attainable.

Now did he want to do anything about it?

Sooba ▻ You think so??

The typing dots bounce along the chat room border as you reply.

InsertNameHere ▻ I know so. I was there. Beautiful even when he is staring right through me (￣ロ￣lll)

The memory of you speaking his name echoes like a broken record. He has yet to tire of it. Though he’s lightheaded and hazy, your features are still clear in his mind. The sure fire in your eyes, your sharp tongue and your pouty lips. A slow, warm tension trickles into his gut, swooping in anticipation and breathless longing as he imagines the face you might make if he touched you.

Sooba ▻ That’s presumptuous. He was staring at you. Why wouldn’t he be

InsertNameHere ▻ I. ▻ You’re so unfair you know that ▻ If you were here I would

His breathing picks up ever so slightly.

Sooba ▻ What would you do with me

InsertNameHere ▻ Are we veering into sexting territory right now

Sooba ▻ Unintentionally.

Shouto shifts his hips. The movement pulls his sweatpants tighter around his hips and a familiar tingling rushes below his waist. When was the last time he touched himself? He brings the phone to his forehead for a moment of clarity, peering up at the screen through his eyelashes.

InsertNameHere ▻ Is this the part where we come full circle and you actually send me a dick pic

He tucks his chin, a lazy smile playing on his lips. The gentle throb in his briefs pulses throughout his body and he answers, reaching to squeeze himself through the fabric, just for relief.

Nori sneezes. He falters, reminded of her presence and overcome by the urge to cover up. Proverbial tail between his legs, Shouto retreats to the privacy of his bedroom, shutting the door with a quiet click. Evening filters in through the windows, mauve and rosy. He kneels on the bed and it yields under his weight, frame silent while he crawls to the headboard and reclines back, phone in hand.

▻ Shit, sorry. I was joking you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to

The message goes over his head. He opens the front camera and stares back at his flushed, disheveled face before tilting the device, angling it toward his body.

Frosted fingertips trail up his stomach and it jumps, laying the hem of his shirt across his chest. Down again to the fine dark hair below his belly button, goosebumps rising across skin, blood rushing to the surface. Hooks his thumb suggestively into his waistband, hand splayed across his hip, and takes the photo.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_628] ▻ I want to

Shouto. Shouto. Shouto. Abuzz with salacious apprehension he wonders what would it sound like above him? Under him? Breath knocked from your lungs, whining through the motions. He traces the outline of his clock. Covers his eyes with the crook of his arm and releases a shuddered breath, hips rising into the heel of his hand. A hand too big to be yours. Sweatpants pushed halfway down his thighs he pictured it anyway—you laid on your side, at his side, loose fist stroking him root to weeping tip.

Shouto thumbs at the head, smearing precum over his sensitive frenulum. Panting heavier, he squeezes his cock and wonders, would you tease him? Lick into his mouth and tell him not to be quiet?

The phone in his hand buzzes. Anticipation grips his heart. He almost drops it on his face when he squints up to read the screen.

InsertNameHere ▻ Fuck. You’re so gorgeous ▻ I can’t concentrate

Sooba ▻ You like it?

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ll show you how much ▻ [IMG_447]

Heat races through him. You’re in a loose tank top, touching yourself over pale boyshorts. The dark straps have fallen around your shoulders in an almost demure manner, collar slipping forward to reveal the soft cleavage of your chest. You’ve mirrored his position, albeit a little higher, enough for your mouth to be in frame. Wet and rouge, if he thinks hard enough he can imagine he left them kiss bitten.

Sooba ▻ I want to touch you

He’s desperate to know what you like. The way you want to be touched, how you might yield under his wandering hands. Patterns dance behind his eyelids as he reaches to knead his pecs, pinching the pert nipple with a breathy moan. He smooths over his abdomen, corded muscle tensing beneath the added sensation, arousal coiling hot in his belly.

InsertNameHere ▻ Touch yourself for me instead, yeah? ▻ Gonna think about you too

“Fuck,” he chokes. Shouto loses his phone amongst the sheets. Feet planted flat to the mattress, his knees spread until the waistband protests. “Please. Please. I’m so close,” he whispers to the image in his mind. His pace stutters, feverish as he fucks his fist. Your lips brush soft along the column of his throat to feel him swallow. He turns into the pillow, mouth parted for heaving breath.

“That’s it Shouto. So beautiful for me,” you’ll murmur, so at home in the crook of his body. Amidst the desperation you’ll straddle his thigh, rhythm synchronized, chests rising. Your hand—his hand—slips further, fingers curled to press up behind his balls. He’s on fire. “Cum for me, baby. Let me see you cum”.

Shouto’s head tips back into the plush of his pillow, every muscle clenched. Pleasure rockets through him. His cock twitches in his grasp. He cums with a strung out moan, breaking into short, wet pants as he catches his breath.

Riding the gentle aftershocks, his arm falls heavily to the side and hits his bedsheets with a quiet thud. The smell of old petrichor blows into his room with the draft draws his attention to the darkened window. Streaks of gold sunlight peak between the buildings across the street where it settles under the horizon.

The stickiness between his fingers is difficult to ignore. Drying steadily on his chest. Reality returns to him slowly as he stares at his soiled hand. After cleaning himself up with the wipes in his bedside table, Shouto tugs up his sweatpants and rubs at the pink splotches leading up his throat. With clarity comes a vague haze of shame and he is loudly alone; something vibrates and he is anything but lonely. He lifts his head, rummaging through the sheets to find his phone.

InsertNameHere ▻ Want you to feel good ▻ You there baby? ▻ Sooba? ▻ Hm. That’s not the sexiest of names

Shouto laughed through his nose. Endeared by your awkward jump from flirting to nervously making up for a perceived misstep.

Sooba ▻ sorry can’t multitask ▻ shouldnt make fun of your house husbands name

Exiting his bedroom is uncomfortably close to a wall of shame. He drags his feet; gait unsteady for far nicer reasons than a near career ending injury. Nori has acquired his spot on the couch, retaining warmth in his absence. She observes him, all knowing.

InsertNameHere ▻ No capitalised letters? Punctuation? What have you done with my Sooba lol ▻ How are you feeling?

Sooba ▻ really good. sleepy

He wanders to the kitchen and dithers over his next message, leaning his forearms on the cool countertop. This fleeting, unintended conversation could change everything and that fact is starting to nag at him.

▻ what about you

InsertNameHere ▻ I feel really good. And sleepy <3

The implication is not lost on him. He chews his bottom lip, flustered at just how pleased that makes him.

The next burst of chat bubbles appear in an instant, one after another. Typed hastily as though to outrun your own apprehension.

▻ Can I ask you something? ▻ Did you mean it when you said you’d come to the event with me? ▻ I have a plus one. I want to see you. But you don’t have to

Shouto swallows. Tugged between elation and fear. You’ve become all he yearns for and you could be just that, his, yet he panics all the same. Heroism had consistently been his lacquered shield. An excuse for his self isolation that people had to begrudgingly accept. Working himself to the bone afforded the luxury of never having to dwell on it.

Exhaustion aside he was content with the humdrum life he hid behind. Before you, Shouto rarely wanted for anything. He had his family, and good friends, and a job that felt rewarding; it didn’t seem worth it to lay himself bare and be dissected on the off chance that someone new might love him.

Because hectic work and risks aside, he’s profoundly aware of the ghosts he has yet to conquer. That somewhere, there is something fundamentally different inside him that you might find disappointing.

Unthinkingly, Shouto grapples with the courage in him existing on the fringes and replies in much the same way you had.

Sooba ▻ I meant it. I want to see you too. ▻ I’d like to go with you ▻ Don’t worry about a plus one. I’ll meet you there

InsertNameHere ▻ Wow, okay. That was easier than I thought. I’m so excited ▻ And super nervous

As it turns out the impending date motivates Shouto like nothing before. Days pass without fault or interruption. The man-shaped dent in his couch rises without the constant weight. He sticks closely to the routine his physiotherapist drew up for him. Walks longer distances and soaks up the sun daily, to Tsutomu’s great delight.

Too wrapped up in his own coalesced anxiety and elation, he realises he hadn’t found it remotely odd that you hadn’t questioned his ability to get into the auction.

His train of thought is interrupted by a firm hand coming down on his shoulder. “Man of the hour!” A familiar sharp toothed grin blocks his vision. Shouto clenches under the sudden weight to keep himself upright as Kirishima gives him a shake, “We missed you around here. You’re looking good!”

The charity event is in full swing. An anticipatory lull permeates the atmosphere as the chosen guests, heroes and civilians alike, wait for the auction to finally begin. Shouto arrived fashionably late, as Mina called it, after spending nearly three hours on a group call with her, Yaoyorozu, and his sister.

The applause upon his entry had not been expected. His palms are still clammy.

Compared to Shouto's charcoal three piece suit, tailored to precision, Kirishima dons a charmingly loud burgundy blazer over a dark turtleneck, pulled together by a simple chain. The material is tight across his broad shoulders. “Thank you, Kirishima,” Shouto smiles. He looks him over, “You look good too”.

That signature grin grows weary. “You really think so?” Kirishima lowers his voice into a hush, tugging at the loose hair framing his face. “I wasn’t so sure about tying my hair back. What if nobody bids for me? I’m dying inside just thinking about it”.

Shouto turns away from the sea of vibrant clothing and chatter to pat his friend on the arm and level him with a serious look. “A lot of people are going to spend money on you tonight, Kirishima. But in the impossible event that they don’t I’ll bid on you myself,” he tells him. “We can go to Mythoscape and try that new rollercoaster”.

“Bro…” Kirishima’s eyes are wide and glassy. While Shouto expects the firm hug, he is mildly surprised by the long, dramatic kiss to his cheek. His breath smells faintly of white wine. “You’re the best,” he continues as he sets Shouto back on his feet. “But is it really okay for you to do that?”

A flash goes off. Shouto frowns. He scans the crowd and rubs away the wet mark left behind. Yaoyorozu catches his attention with a delicate wave from her place beside Kendo and Uraraka. “Why wouldn’t it be?” he asks, smiling back, yet distracted. You’re still nowhere to be found.

“Well,” Kirishima draws breath through his teeth. “Bakugo kinda told me about your crush on his PA,” whatever he sees pass over Shouto’s expression has him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and scrambling to explain. “Nothing bad, man! You know he actually seemed pretty approving of it, in his own way”.

The evermoving mass of bodies sharpens around a few other familiar faces. Midoriya is excitedly gesticulating as he rambles to a visibly overwhelmed HSPC shareholder. Bakugo watches the interaction with no intention of concealing his amusement.

“I’m not sure about that,” Shouto rasps, narrowing his eyes at the man in question, like the pressure behind it might be enough to elicit his attention. Bakugo of all the people here would know where you are. The phone snug in his inside blazer pocket remains silent. A pout works its way onto his lips before he can stop it. “He said I’m bad at flirting”.

Kirishima stifles a laugh and clears his throat when Shouto directs the petulant glare to him. “You are a little bad at it. But only when you’re actually trying! And even then that’s part of what makes it charming, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know”.

“You’re the type to flirt without realising you’re doing it—or atleast people think you are, because you’re handsome and attentive and whatnot. But when you try it’s kinda obvious and bro, please stop looking at me like that,” Kirishima explains clumsily, tone pitching higher the longer he talks.

Shouto’s lips thin as he tries to suppress a smirk. He rights himself as Kirishima nudges his side, catching a smile of his own, “What I meant is you have a chance. And Bakubro thinks so too. He wants you to be happy”.

The sentiment warms him from the inside out. But it also makes apparent something trepid and cold in his gut. Regardless of his friends unfettered support there remains the real possibility that he will be rejected. That you will be disappointed or scared away by his status. That you could do as you please with the intimate parts of his life ‘Sooba’ gave you.

Scarier is the hope that you won’t.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Shouto announces, noticing Endeavor prowling around in his peripheral vision. Kirishima’s brow furrows, mouth parted in confusion, no doubt seeking to reassure him. “I’m okay, Kirishima. I just need something to do with my hands”.

“Alright,” the taller man murmurs. Shouto finds himself at the end of a gentle smile once more. “Make sure to say ‘hi’ to Denks if you see him. He misses you too”.

“I will,” Shouto nods, ducking away from the inexpressible tenderness that has clung to him since stepping into the hall. People part to allow him through. His left leg has already begun to feel weak, not enough to worry but enough to notice, and he hopes he can later blame his gait on the alcohol.

He reaches the bar and wrinkles his nose at the thick amalgamation of perfume, body odour and over-applied cologne. The bartender slides up to him. “Umeshu, please,” he says. “On the rocks”.

Another body settles beside him. He shifts to accommodate them but doesn’t look; too distracted as he inhales deeply through his nose and exhales long out his mouth to allay his beating heart. Pulling his phone out from his inside pocket, the screen lights up and he finds it void of messages.

After the… sexting, things had been fine. Better in a lot of ways. You both felt emboldened to truly act on your feelings. Sharing more pictures, secrets—though never your names—and laughter. It is disconcerting that you would now go silent.

The bartender sets his drink down and Shouto quietly gives his thanks, bringing it to his face, briefly caught in the soft glimmer, cubed ice submerged in liquid gold, tasting the sweet aroma at the back of his throat. He tips it back and drinks.

As the glass hits the surface once more, the person next to him softly asks, “Are you waiting on anyone?”

And his mouth goes dry.

You’re bracing on crossed arms, watching him closely. Speckled in the warm low light reflected on the bar, you are more beautiful than he remembers, and just as nervous. There’s an air of uncertainty about you that shifts as your eyes meet, faint but palpable, encouraged by what he can imagine is the wonder on his own face.

Shouto wets his lips. The plum taste lingers on his tongue. “…I might be,” he murmurs. You brighten at his reciprocation, a more charged kind of nervous—the kind that swoops low in your belly right before you take a leap.

“If I’m wrong don’t laugh and don’t tell Dynamite,” you turn to face him and smooth your hands over your hips. This allows him a better look at your attire. Silken fabrics that form gentle lines around the waist, loose but elegantly so, not in a way that the clothes wear you.

Your eyes dipped low, averted to avoid his stare. He cannot seem to direct it anywhere else. The auction has fallen away in its entirety. As far as Shouto is concerned there’s only you.

“It’s me. And you’re…Sooba?”

The tremble in your voice shrikes through him and it occurs to Shouto that you have always been the brave one.

He leans into your space, enjoying the way you quickly draw breath at his proximity, forced to meet his gaze. Rather than something remotely suave or cool, he dumbly asks, “You knew?”

Part of him wants to tuck his shoulders to his ears as you begin to laugh. They’re warm, undoubtedly red. Amusement is not at all what he prepared for. He thought this might all end up in his scrapbook memory, to be taken out and pined over now and then.

“Shouto-san with all due respect, you came to my workplace with your very recognisable crutches and stared at me like a deer in headlights”.

“Shouto,” he says.

Your laughter simmers, “Hm?”

“Just call me Shouto,” he tells you, equal parts relieved and embarrassed.

“Shouto,” you smile at him with a fondness that derails his thoughts. He has the vague urge to whine when it wanes. “I’m—I really am sorry I didn’t tell you. I swear I didn’t know until after you visited the agency. It all made sense after I looked up your socials and saw some old pictures of Nori”.

“It’s alright. I knew and didn’t say anything either,” Shouto inclines his head, abashed. Then with a sudden sharp sort of clarity, he continues, “So then you knew, when you asked for a dick—?”

Words evade him under the warm press of your hand as you quickly cover his mouth. You glance around the room, closer than before, and you don’t seem to realise. Cautious, he touches your waist; he puckers his lips to kiss your palm; he feels your stomach jump under the silky fabrics.

Your eyes darken, swallowed by pupil. “You’re a menace,” you simper, and reluctantly pull away. “Maybe we should talk about this somewhere with less…cameras”.

Umeshu abandoned, Shouto wraps an arm around your lower back and allows you to direct him through the crowd. You weave through the moving bodies like thread through a needle, at one point reaching behind to take his wrist, becoming his tether.

Bakugo meets his gaze from across the room. His eyes flit to you, widening in surprise. Shouto flashes a boyish grin before disappearing through the side door.

The door you choose next opens to a private bathroom. Shouto surges forward, taking you by the hips and crowding you against the bathroom counter, overcome by the need to feel everything that you are pressing into everything that is him.

He kicks the door behind him and settles in the clutch of your thighs as you scramble to balance on the marble edge. Your hands slide over his shoulders, splaying over each cheek. You’re both breathing heavily despite having done nothing at all.

“I said talk,” you remind him with a tremulous smile. Shouto knows you’re being playful. He apologises anyway; rests his head in the crook of your neck, letting the moment simmer, and you comb through his hair with your fingers. A shiver rolls down his spine.

“Did you know it was me? Before you came to the agency, I mean”.

He reclines from his crook to look at you. Eye level, silhouetted by the cheap bathroom luminescence. “When I saw you in there—and put it together I was so scared,” you continued.

“Scared?” he echoed with a frown, knuckles brushing your cheek.

“Not like that. I was scared of what you might think,” you turn into his caress and his pinched expression falls away. He can’t stop touching you and he can’t bring himself to be sorry about it. “I mean, I looked terrible that day, and you appeared out of nowhere and I wasn’t mad it was you. I was just…”

You swallow thickly, emotion swelling in your eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners. “You’re so big and bright. I didn’t want you to be disappointed”.

You were unaware of it—the profound cord you struck within him. How even in anonymity, your incorporeal fingers always seemed to find it. Even now, as you echo his own fears.

“Momo first mentioned you might work for Bakugo. I didn’t know before I saw you that day. I still wasn’t certain until tonight”. You peer at him through your lashes then, listening intently. He brings your foreheads together and tells you, “There is no way you could’ve disappointed me”.

“Oh? I could’ve been a villain”.

“My oldest brother was a villain,” he monotoned, wandering hands squeezing intermittently at your waist as though to make sure you’re still there. “My capacity for love and forgiveness knows no bounds”.

You snort. The sound is abrupt and the force knocks your skulls together. “Oh—ow,” he grins, insides melting. Together you dissolve into a warm fit of laughter.

“Hey, Shouto?”

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes fluttering as your thumb swipes over the red mark below his hairline. “I like you,” you murmur. “I like you so much it’s stupid”.

Plunged into an ice cold realisation, Shouto freezes to process your words. “You—like me?”

“Yeah?” you said it like he was dense, like it was clear all along. “I can’t help it when you’re so…yourself”

And isn’t that all he’s ever wanted? To be loved without pretense, without a winner. To be special to someone for no special reason.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Me too. I like you. I want—” his fingers flex at your hips, grounding. He blinks. “I don’t know your name yet”.

Affection colours your features. Shouto likes you best like this—sure of yourself, of his feelings for you. You recite your name. He repeats it endlessly in his mind and rolls it around his teeth. He calls to you even when you’re right in front of him.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“You were waiting?” you laugh, tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s such a novel thing but it makes something monumental swell in his chest. “Kiss me. I want you to”.

Given permission, Shouto traces the curve of your jaw with a bold shyness, from the sensitive skin below your ear to your chin. His finger hooks beneath. You’re lovely. He thinks he could spend an hour describing your demure half smile, how your lips yield under the light pressure of his thumb; your tongue darting out reflexively.

He shakes at the desire that fills him. He’s not used to it—this wanting. It feels like a thousand insatiable butterflies in his chest. Dipping into your magnetism, his heart beat faster and faster with the simple brush of your lips. He kissed you, innocent and honest, and then he kissed you again, licking the seam of your mouth, arms coiling around your middle as you cling to him.

You tip forward. Your thighs clench at his waist and drag him impossibly close. It brings you chest to chest. He tries to hold you steadfast as your hand wraps around his nape, softly scratching his scalp; he feels you smile against his lips when he shudders.

You break for air. Arousal shoots through him at your half moan, the sound tapering into a happy hum the instant his lips trail down your neck, tasting your pulse before making his way down to your exposed collar. He peppers kiss after kiss on every swathe of skin he can reach, sinking teeth into every little reaction you give him.

Big hands at your lower back arch your body into his. You yield, tension sapped from your limbs, grappling his shoulders to keep yourself from falling while you grind down on his lap. Shouto groans, grip slipping lower to cup your ass.

“We’re getting carried away,” you gasp between kisses. That alone was obvious. His cock strains uselessly in his suit pants. But the light glints tantalisingly along your mouth, swollen and wet with saliva. Shouto kisses you again so you won’t have to tell him to attend to his responsibilities.

A warm breath scores his cheek as you huff through your nose, nipping firmly at his lower lip. “I mean it. I am technically still at work,” you try again, voice lacking strength. “Dynamite will knock on every door in this building—don’t wrinkle your nose, you know I’m right”.

“Alright. I know,” he rasps, barely an exhale. It takes all his willpower to pull away. He steadies you on your feet, smoothing out the creases in your formal attire while you are quite pleased to simply watch on as he adjusts himself in his pants. “I’m glad my suffering is funny to you”.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you murmur, pecking the corner of his mouth. “I'll hide with you in the corner like I promised I would. We can make up for lost time after the auction. You know. The one for charity”.

Shouto hums and reaches for the door, knowing you’ve won. “Oh. I told Kirishima I’d bid for his date night,” he recalls as he turns the handle. “Would that bother you?”

“Of course not baby,” you reply and take one last look at your reflection, less disheveled than before. The endearment ‘baby’ almost has him walking into the doorframe.

You straighten up. Shouto thinks he must look incredibly dumbstruck, if your concerned expression is any indication. “You okay?” you ask, proffering your hand. “You didn’t bring your crutches tonight, did you?”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” he intertwines your fingers, dizzy as you squeeze around him.

“It’s just a tremor”.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader

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mdccanon · 1 year

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Decay Belonged to Izuku

Here is my two cents.

All for One being Hisashi Midoriya would not be enough to break Izuku nor Tenko. Tenko doesn't feel like he was replaced, like how Touya feels. He feels used. Like a puppet. Izuku has more father figures than he knows what to do with. I like Dad for One, don't get me wrong.

But it's not powerful enough.

The only thing that would hit every box of everything the story has been about is if All for One and Dr. Garaki gave Tenko Izuku's original quirk. If Izuku was meant to decay.

"Face it, Deku, you'll never have a quirk stronger than mine."

"Even you could become a hero."

"Perfect quirk for a villain. Even I started to believe it."

"These things aren't gifts, they are curses."

"I can take and give quirks, but I can't just throw them away!"

The absolute worse thing to Horikoshi isn't merely good or bad things. If it was, All Might would be dead. But he's alive because the worst thing in the world is for him to watch his legacy burn and be helpless. If it was, Endeavor would be in jail. But he's free, and expected to re-explain and re-affirm to every citizen and journalist who asks him that this is all his fault. The absolute worse things to Horikoshi are the bittersweet things you are expected to be grateful for, even as they eat away at your will to live. The worst things are the awful truths you must endure. Congrats Hawks, your childhood hero is worse than your parents. Congrats Overhaul, you accidentally put your father into a permanent coma....

So wouldn't the worse thing Izuku could experience from "Hisashi Midoriya" be him expecting gratitude for protecting Inko from the ticking time-bomb that is Decay? Wouldn't the worse thing be the guilt Izuku would have for everything Tenko had gone through? Not simply because "I know the guy that did it to you."

But "he did it to you to spare me."

Someone is going to explain to me why Inko was doing the Upset Woman pose BEFORE Izuku was declared quirkless. And then the next thing is her bland "shocked" performance with the nonsensical test results and exposition provided by All for One's personal doctor... then she's crying and apologizing to Izuku...

#dad for one #Dad for all #tomura shigaraki #tenko shimura #shigadeku #Izuku Midoriya #all for one is hisashi #mha 374 #MHA 375 #Inko is a traitor #villain inko #all for inko #yoichi shigaraki #Decay quirk

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eris-snow · 10 months

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𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

Tags: Deku's birthday series 2023, izuku x fem!reader

Izuku's birthday is always bittersweet. No matter how much you wish, the outcome is the same. He'll always forget you.

I’ve heard that exact phrase from you 7 times.

Izuku stares at the note and frowns, trying to work out the implications of your words as he examines the post-it note on his door.

This is obviously a reply to his previous note about his birthday.

Do you know his birthday already? Since when? Did someone tell you?

His eyebrows knitted themselves together as he pondered more.

What do you mean by 7 times, then?

His frown etches deeper.

And how could you know a phrase he’s only said once?

On the 15th of July, 6 years ago, Izuku had been hit by a quirk. Although, with the damage it did to your relationship with your former best friend, the word ‘curse’ seemed to suit it much better.

“It’s an annual occurrence. After each cycle, in this case, each year, his memory would be wiped off you.” The doctor’s words were hazy in your ten-year-old mind, but they’d reverberated off the walls of your head each time his birthday drew near.

“At the stroke of midnight marking the start of the 16th of July, your face will be erased from his consciousness. In each memory, each picture he remembers, every thought he’s ever had of you in that one-year timeframe, you will disappear.” The doctor had put it quite bluntly after your insistent “Tell me, I can handle it!”s. He’d asked your mother to leave the room and had taken you at your word, explaining the painful consequence of the quirk accident.

You had to stop the tears from watering up in your eyes.

“So Izuku doesn’t know me anymore?” You whispered, tears almost bubbling over.

“He doesn’t,” The doctor confirmed. He kneeled down, looking at you at eye level. “The man’s quirk is called Wipe. Say he puts his quirk on Person A. He gets to scan Person A’s memory and choose whoever he wants from his victim’s memories to erase every year. In Izuku’s case, he chose you.”

“Why did I get chosen?” Your voice cracked, a tear sliding down your cheek. You didn’t ask for this. You were a good friend, a good child! Izuku and you were going to U.A. together, and you were going to become heroes together so come on, this can’t happen!

“Can’t we reverse this?”

You didn’t deserve this! You wanted to protest.

The doctor smiled at you, and even though you knew you asked for this you felt like punching him in the face.

“We’ll do our best to find out,” he assured you.

They did not find out.

In fact, everyone around you had accepted that the entire situation was a cold trail, and that the effects of the quirk were permanent since the villain was so tight-lipped about it, and had nothing further to say on the matter.

Even you were starting to lose faith in him too.

Glance at your phone, your eyes trace the date as if it had killed your pet dog. It’s that time of the year again.

The start of every July.

It’s always a bittersweet one because it’s the time when Izuku is the most comfortable with you, while you’re left to count down the days until Izuku’s memories are wiped again.

Izuku catches a glance of you as he enters the gym after his morning run. You both have a silent agreement to have breakfast together every Sunday, and Izuku always knows where to find you on a Sunday morning. He smiles when he sees you on the treadmill, taking you in with a fond gaze before he calls you out like every week before.

“Hey, Starlight?”

You snap out of your thoughts at the sound of your nickname, almost falling face-first on the treadmill when the green-haired wielder of One For All decides to pop up right next to you like a Jack in the Box.

Steadying yourself, you slow down the pacing of the machine, still panting from the running and the minor heart attack. “In all that is holy, what the hell was that, ‘Zuku!” you bite back, easing yourself off the treadmill.

The teen has the audacity to crack up, laughing so innocently like he didn’t almost just give you a concussion. You’re just glad that he doesn’t flinch away from you and bow his head in apology anymore like you were both strangers.

Your face clouds over rapidly.

“I’m sorry!” Izuku chuckles, wiping his tears away. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You did though,” You point out sullenly, folding your arms. “Now spill before I give you a concussion.”

Looking wounded, the green-haired teen changes the subject. “Thought you would be expecting me. It’s Sunday,” He pointed out. “Look, I wanted to ask you what you meant by your secret this morning.” He showed you the lime green Post-it, flashing your handwriting back at you. “I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to get it. That’s why it’s a secret,” you sidestep, reaching for your towel on a nearby bench.

The broccoli boy’s gaze trails your every move. “But I—”

“Just ask Kacchan,” You say, taking a swig at your water bottle. Your body freezes like ice.

Izuku’s eyes narrow on you.

Immediately, you start chugging water from your bottle as eager as an alcoholic discovering vodka for the first time.

You wish, because you don’t think you can do this sober.

Green eyes pin you to your spot like piercing nails.

“Did you just—”

“It was a slip of the tongue,” you explain, trying to come off as defensive as you silently grimace at your mistake. “Meant to call him Katsuki.”

Shit, shit, shit—

You’d sworn you wouldn’t mess up the explosive blond’s name in front of Izuku and yet every year, you were bound to do so. Yikes. His reaction was getting more exaggerated with every year.

“Oh,” Izuku blinks, and suddenly, the hard look in his eyes disappears in the blink of an eye. He blushes crimson, rubbing his neck sheepishly as he averts his gaze from you “Sorry. It’s just a childhood thing, you know? Whenever Kaminari calls him that, even if it’s just for fun, it just…feels wrong.”

You cringe at the word “childhood”, like his words slip tiny pins into your heart and threaten to make it bleed out. “I get it,” You respond, trying to get your smile to come out naturally. It works.

Sort of.

“Wanna head to the canteen now? I’m famished.” He offers you an apologetic, nervous smile that screams Deku, and you sigh in relief at the conversation switch up. “That sounds great. Maybe I can get you to eat something other than katsu don there. If not Lunch Rush then I’ll go to—” your mom “—Katsuki.”

“You’re very funny,” He tells you seriously, making the both of you burst out laughing.

Yeah, this feels right, you tell yourself as you sweep the feelings under the carpet that tells you otherwise. Love isn’t a word you would use lightly, and definitely not to Izuku who perceives he’s only known you for a year. There’s no point in telling him, after all.

It’s not like he’ll remember anyway.

Izuku’s note comes back much later that day, returned just as you had returned his. You rip the sticky note off your door and took a great, long stare at it, sighing.

I know you avoided talking about the note. I know that I shouldn’t pry, because it’s your secret to keep, but I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. P.s. Sleep well. The walls are thin. I'm just next door if you need someone to talk to.

Groaning, you slam your head against your door.

He thought you were crying because you had nightmares of the war.

The only thing you could think of as you fell asleep that night was how much you would prefer that.

#mha #mha fanfiction #deku x reader #izuku x y/n #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bnha midoriya #midoriya x y/n #Deku's birthday series 2023

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pikahlua · 1 year

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In a way I get it yes quirkless people can be hero and I see people saying in the near future Deku can still be a hero like Batman or iron man not taken into those accounts how extremely rich and intelligent they are Deku is smart but he not a genius and he not rich either unless all might gives him money like all might is using tech in order to fight how does than answer the question

Okay, but you need to consider another definition of "hero." I'm not talking about "a hero like Batman or Iron Man." That's the point. I'm talking about a hero as in "a soul that lives in service of others." That's what MHA has been trying to tell us. Stain spells it out. All Might wasn't a hero because of his quirk but because his soul burnt brightly for the sake of others. People everywhere felt saved in their hearts just knowing All Might exists. It has nothing to do with superpowers. Izuku was a hero in chapter 1 because all the other people with quirks on the scene, the people who were "pro heroes," refused to try to save Katsuki from the sludge villain because they thought it was a matter of waiting for someone with the right quirk. But Izuku didn't consider quirks when he jumped in to help. His body moved on its own because someone was asking for help. Anyone can be this sort of hero. Think of the real-world corollaries: firefighters, rescue workers, doctors who work in battle zones and unstable regions, people who put themselves on the line to save those in need. Plenty of MHA's "pro heroes" have proven that being a "pro hero" has little to nothing to do with being a true hero. MHA society has lost track of what real heroism is, and that's why Stain does what he does. Stain wants society to open their eyes to how the heroes they worship should be those who sacrifice themselves for others regardless of their quirks. It's their actions that make them heroes, not their innate talents.

#ask pika #anon ask #my hero academia manga spoilers #final showdown spoilers

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aspiring-writer-hidden-voice · 2 years

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Pregnancy

Hey, everyone! SA here with a mini head canon (sorry, I’m still getting used to all of these new terms so hopefully I’m using it right!) that I think you’ll like! This little series is called “Pregnancy” that will feature different pairings with the reader (fem!)! As always, please let me know what you think!

F!Reader x MHA; pronouns are “She/Her”; Quirkless (because I honestly couldn’t think of anything). Age: All characters are 18+ Warnings: Fluff, comfort, adult language, doctor mentions.

Izuku “Deku” Midoriya: 5 Weeks

The lump that had lodged itself into your throat refused to disappear no matter how much water you sipped while pacing the kitchen. Just a few more minutes and he would be home. Every second that ticked by felt like it was dragging by in slow motion as you took a moment to rest against the counter. How could you not have not noticed the signs? No, ridiculing yourself was not going to help in the slightest. A hand drug down your face, butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach when finding it shaking, hastily wiping it on a spare towel when it came away with a light sheen of sweat. Glancing at the calendar you redid the math and when it still remained at the same answer that you’d come to earlier your gaze fell to the four tests that sat beside the sink hidden by some paper towels. You’d even booked an appointment at the doctor to make sure it was true when you had a suspicion earlier in the week.

And it was.

You were, indeed, with child.

That wasn’t your biggest concern though several others would argue against it: it was the soon-to-be-father.

This alone could end his hero career, the reputation that he’d built, not to mention the public image he had with being All Might’s successor. Brief panic filled you at the thought of being forced to get rid of it but protectiveness seized your heart like a mighty fist as your hand fell to rest on your stomach. He wasn’t that kind of person, you’ve grown to know him ever since meeting after his graduation from UA, but if that was the case then why were you so nervous to tell him that you were making yourself nauseous?

Keys lightly jingling from the hallway outside snapped you out of the train of thoughts, causing your heart to leap upwards into your throat.

“Hey, I’m home!” The bright smile that raised his lips, that glint in his emerald gemstone gaze, it was as if the sun itself had walked in as you gazed at him like a deer in a headlight. Despite the dirt that clung to his hero costume or the notorious villains that he dealt with, Izuku still managed to come home with that excited look as if you were the best part of his day. Something within you snapped the second your gazes had met when he paused when spotting you in the kitchen, the expression of joy at seeing you instantly becoming one of panic as with a sob you slid down to the cold tiled floor with the largest tears spilling down your cheeks that could rival the freckled hero’s. He was instantly beside you on his knees, hands quickly removing the gloves so that his bare scarred skin could touch your own as he cupped your face. “(Y/N)?!”

All you could do was hiccup his name, farther confusing him, until falling silent thanks to the soft press of your face against his firm chest. One hand began rubbing your back while the other pet the back of your head ensuring not to tangle your hair with careful strokes. It took a few minutes but you eventually pulled away to look up at him once the raging emotions within had calmed from the storm that they’d been caught up in. “S-hic-sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” you mumbled as he swiped the nearby dish towel to dab at your leaking eyes.

“I can tell you’ve been stressed lately so why don’t we take tomorrow off and do something fun together, yeah?” He said softly while helping you stand with a gentle hold on your biceps. “I know I’ve been working a lot lately and I’m sorry if you’ve felt neglected, I really didn’t mean to make you feel that way, but I’m going to make it up to you! There’s that new shop across town that you were talking about the other day! Let’s go check it out! Afterwards we could go to the gardens watch the ducks swim around in the ponds, its not supposed to get as hot tomorrow as it was today so it would be perfect and we have all those crackers that we can feed them. Once we come back I can make that dish you like so much. There’s still a bottle of that wine in the fridge that you love so we can open that up—”

The press of your fingertip against his lips halted his onslaught of words as momentary courage filled you; now was as good a time as any. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence fell as he blinked at you with eyes that steadily grew wider with each passing second.

Concern filled you when no words came from the silent hero. “Izuku?” It was as the tears that had dissipated returned full force that he finally awakened out of whatever daydream he’d been ensured within and you suddenly found yourself being lifted into the air by his arms that had swept out your legs from underneath you, earning a shriek of surprise and your arms to reflexively wrap around his neck.

His head nestled into your chest, muffled words coming from him that were indistinguishable and it wasn’t until he looked up at you that your worry of how this would affect him was effectively put to rest when you saw his tear filled gaze that shone brighter than the precious gem his eyes resembled. There was no music yet that didn’t stop the pro hero from practically dancing and twirling you around the kitchen as waterfalls of tears spilled down his cheeks. The love you felt for him seemed to swell as he carefully placed you on the counter and rested a hand against your stomach with hesitancy. “I wasn’t sure what was going on with you this week, I was so worried I’d missed something like an anniversary since you’d marked up the calendar in the main bathroom but then I realized you were marking your cycles. You didn’t ask me to pick you up any supplies a few weeks ago so I thought something might have happened but you did have that new coworker so maybe it was a sync altercation—”

“Izuku!” The softest presses of his lips against yours eased the alarm that you felt at his confession of noticing your missed period before you had and snuggled into his warmth as he enveloped you in an embrace. “What about your hero career?” You asked the million dollar question. “Won’t this affect how the public sees you now?”

“You’ve given me the greatest gift, (Y/N), and if anything this will push my inspiration to be a better hero than All Might ever was.” His dazzling smile was back as your heart gave a clench, your hands rising to cup his cheeks to wipe away the lingering tears. Emerald suddenly widened as he straightened, his arms that had dropped to wrap around your legs to keep you close easily lifting you from the cold surface. “We gotta get things ready! I know, we can go shopping tomorrow for all the stuff we’ll need!”

Your hands fell to rest on his shoulders with a laugh. “Whoa, there, we don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl!”

He ignored your words and the air was filled with your laughs as he eagerly carried you to the bedroom where he changed quickly then with you in tow slipped out the door while mumbling a list off to himself that you occasionally added things that you thought would be necessary.

Eijiro Kirishima: 10 Weeks

The lightest of knocks against the door caused your head to wearily rise from its hanging position, your heavily shadowed gaze meeting sympathetic and concern filled carmine that peeked at you through the door’s crack. Your garbled whine was more than enough to convey how miserable you were however the hand you’d raised to prevent him from coming inside the small room went ignored as he instead entered to collect you within his embrace with ease. A weak protest rose up your abused throat but it was effectively silenced by his lips meeting your temple as he turned off the light with a nudge of his elbow. Exhaustion beyond what you’ve ever felt before prevented your eyes from opening fully when plush blankets slowly surrounded the two of you with the creak of a telltale mattress. Knowing he had to work made your chest ache as his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, manifesting in a tear that slid down you cheek as vulnerability radiated off you in waves.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered into your ear when you made to withdraw from his hold, “they’ve got enough help at the agency that I can take some time off to make sure my little pebble has all she needs.”

More tears threatened to fall as a large calloused finger carefully wiped away the salty trail that had been left on your cheek, all of those insecurities and voices that had been whispering negative imagery within your ears finally falling silent as he enclosed your farther against his broad chest. “I don’t want to be a bother…” you managed to groan while relishing in the warmth that he gave off which soon chased away the chill of the cold bathroom tile that you’d fallen asleep on near an hour ago.

“I can help you take a shower later if you’d like. Or do you want to try to eat something?”

Appreciation filled you at how faint his voice came out, as if he’d predicted the mind-splitting headache that had been plaguing you since late last night that had nearly robbed you of your sleep. You snuggled farther into his hold as a yawn threatened to pop your jaw. “Snuggles and cuddles first? Think I might fall asleep again…” The rumbling of a chuckle almost too soft for you to feel if it weren’t for the fact that you were nearly completely enveloped by the much larger muscular red haired hero, causing a small smile to lift your lips at the knowledge that he’d never turn down a cuddle.

“Pebble?”

You groaned lowly as what seemed like a split second later his form had been replaced by the pillows, wearily opening your eyes as he softly called out to you again. Sunlight was now coming in through the nearby curtains that gave off just enough light for you to see his carmine eyes carefully watching as you rolled onto your side at the slight pain in your lower back’s behest. A confused moan slipped up your throat when finding him kneeling beside the bed wearing an excited expression but it gave way to ravenous hunger as the scent of something familiar tickled your nose. Instantly awake, you sat upright with speed that could rival the hero’s and eagerly waited as he made show of displaying the spoils he’d brought. The fact he’d managed to sneak away while you’d been sleeping wasn’t anything new, you’d become a heavy sleeper since discovering you were pregnant, and you were over the moon at the grand showcase of food that the red head had bought. “Is all that you got fries?”

He nodded, beaming with pride with each he laid out. “Did some diggin’ and found out that potatoes are the magical vegetable to helping with nausea so of course I went out and got you every kind of fry that exists! Steak, natural, crinkle, waffle, straight, there are even fries that were specially seasoned!” A blush threatened to fill your face at his words if not for his quick kiss before settling across from you with crossed legs, the bed dipping slightly from his added weight. “Where would you like to start, pebble?”

“Eiji, tell me you didn’t waste the gas on driving all across town to get all this.” All the excitement you felt threatened to shift towards anger as he sheepishly shrugged. “Gas is super expensive right now and it looks like you literally went to—”

“Cutie, I’d go anywhere in the world if it meant helping you and your cravings.” He pulled a few straight cut fries from the double arched labeled bag and offered them to you, “but that would mean we’d be apart and I barely managed to get myself out the door while you were sleeping you looked so adorable.”

The offering disappeared between your lips as you hesitantly chewed, unsure of if the salt would cause you to dash for the bathroom as you had a few hours ago thanks to the mindless munching of tortilla chips and salsa, humming softly when your stomach voiced its approval of the substance after swallowing. Food aversions and morning sickness by themselves were a handful, put them together and eating has been incredibly difficult but this might be the sign of hope that you both had been looking forward to. “Can I have some steak fries next?” Your shoulders rose into a shrug when he asked if it was working, if the potatoes were really helping fend off the nausea that had been plaguing you for the last four days, but the smile that raised your lips earned a victorious grin as he swiped the one you’d requested.

Shoto Todoroki: 16 Weeks

The quiver of your bottom lip was more than enough to convey what was about to come the second he looked up from the paperwork he’d been filing and crossed the office with quick strides until coming to a stop before you with hands on your shoulders. “What do you need, love?” He asked earnestly, those duo eyes you adored boring into your own that were filled with preparation to fulfill whatever was about to come out of your mouth. His devotion was admirable, despite the teasing that he received from comrades or the media, and it just made you feel worse about the selfish needs you’ve been harboring since finding the bed empty this morning.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come and bothered you for something so stupid.” You hung your head as the heavy weight of shame settled over you when the phone on the desk began ringing and two assistants appeared within the door behind you. “It’s nothing, Shoto, really.”

“(Y/N), you wouldn’t have come all this way for ‘nothing’.” His head bobbed in an encouraging nod when you took a deep breath.

Your lip quivered more as tears caused your vision to blur. “I can’t fit my shoes and my chest hurts too much to wear the bras that I have.”

That’s all he needed to hear and he had grabbed the coat draped over the back of his chair, phone instantly appearing in his hand as he tucked you against his side. Those who had gathered once seeing it was you within their boss’s office entryway instantly created a path for the two of you as he nearly slammed the door closed behind him. Seconds later you were settled within the car he’d summoned, his fingers tightly holding onto your own as the heavily tinted windows saved both your eyesights from the near blinding flashes of cameras that seemed to follow wherever he went.

“Wait, Shoto— You really don’t have to—”

A light peck of his lips against your own was more than enough to shut you up but it was the gentle fondness that had filled his otherwise stoic features that made your protest vanish into a soft sigh as he shifted to sit face you, his hand gently slipping free of your hold to dab at your still watering eyes with a silk handkerchief that appeared from within his suit’s pocket. “Is that why you have been avoiding closed toe shoes and wearing flip-flops for the past few days or hiding yourself within baggy clothing, to hide the fact that you’re body is changing?” Your head sheepishly bobbed in a nod as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders to bring you closer. “Love, it is natural for a mother’s body to adapt to the life growing within her. You needn’t worry though. We are going to put together a whole new wardrobe just for you no matter how long it takes or how many stores we have to visit.”

“But your work—”

“You and our child are far more important.”

With a soft hum, you allowed his warmth to farther help your own relax as the car came to a slow stop at a red light. “We’ll find out soon if it’s a boy or a girl,” you whispered as his lips met the crown of your head, “are you hoping for one over the other?” A laugh nearly burst from between your lips while looking up at him when silence had been his answer for nearly a full minute and found his expression to be one of utter shock. “Yes, Shoto, we’re almost to that point. Technology sure is amazing, isn’t it?” Understanding filled your chest when he finally met your gaze after a few more seconds of silence. “Unless you want to wait until birth. Some people think its old school but I am fine with not finding out until they are born.”

Relief filled his gaze as you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve been incredibly prone to traditional methods ever since you asked me on our first date.” You giggled, lightly tapping your fingertip against his nose as the car began moving again. “I’m honestly not surprised in the slightest that you want to hold off on discovering the gender but it might make baby clothes shopping a bit difficult since there aren’t a lot of neutral ones.” This time a laugh did manage to sound from your lips as he whipped out his phone again, a single press of his finger instantly dialing a number that you recognized as one of his assistants. “Shoto?”

“Send an email to the design teams; I want a line of neutral infant clothing started immediately and want proofs sent to my email by the end of the day.”

“But, sir, why is there any need for a hero agency to send for such things?”

A chorus from the background nearly sent the phone clattering to the floor as a new group of voices took control over the call. “We’re on it, sir!”

Sometimes you forgot just how famous and wealthy he was but there was always the reminder on your finger that glittered brightly whenever your glanced down at it. It had been a bit large for your liking, its extravagant design and large diamonds worrying you about it catching on things, but it had grown on you with each passing day since agreeing to be his before an altar surrounded by family and friends. You fondly shifted a piece of fallen hair out of his face as he ended the call with a press of another button, shaking your head when he raised a brow in question of your smile, and instead pressed a gentle kiss to his scar.

Keigo “Hawks” Takami: 24 Weeks

Your brows rose when entering the small space that was going to home the child growing inside you, a smile raising your lips when finding the object of your search regarding the farthest wall with a serious expression worthy of mid-century art, a hand fondly rubbing the bump that had seemingly appeared as if from nowhere in the last few days. Some women didn’t show until farther along but not you. The little life form had been growing like a weed and was currently within the sixtieth-percentile for growth at this stage. A strong hearty kick was delivered to your side, causing your breath to catch while coming to a stop beside the man with crimson wings. “Still pondering over colors?”

He startled so violently that it nearly gave you a heart attack when he shrieked while turning on his heel so as to face you. “(Y/N), when did you get in here?!”

The shock of your appearance was a definite indication of just how much thought he was putting into the nursery and it warmed your heart seeing the amount of care the pro hero was showcasing. It was a bit funny to you that Hawks had been so absorbed by the task as hand but honestly it was starting to concern you with how long it was taking him to make a decision such as this. “Keigo, weren’t you supposed to be done with painting yesterday?” You gently asked when he recovered after the initial shock in time to place his hand on your growing stomach in time to receive a kick, causing him to coo in a manner that left you wishing for a recording device of some sort but the damn pregnancy pants you wore didn’t even have back pockets to hold your phone. That didn’t mean you couldn’t store your phone in other places such as your bra!

Amber eyes snapped upwards as you “aww”ed at the display, your tongue peeking out when a rosy hue entered his cheeks. “Anyway, kid, weren’t you supposed to be out of town visiting your parents?”

“Came back early because a little someone seemed to really miss their daddy bird.”

“And what about mama bird?”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes. “As if that’s even a question. We all missed you,” you soothed when he rested his cheek against your stomach with fingers gently combing through his blonde hair, “so don’t you worry your pretty little feathers anymore. Nothing on this earth could make us want to leave you, okay? You’re our daddy bird forever.”

A soft drawn out coo filled the air as his eyes slid closed then opened again at the light tap of your finger to bring his attention back to the wall nearly covered in paint swatches. “Wasn’t feeling the whole ‘Noah’s Ark’ theme and the jungle storybook seemed a bit too cliché to me.” He stood with a huff, keeping his arms wrapped around your waist as he moved to stand behind you. “Thought about doing a tree in the corner next to the crib then having either a meadows cape or ocean view on the opposite wall.”

“Who would’ve guessed that the player pro hero Hawks would have such an artsy side.” You couldn’t help but tease, earning a nuzzle to the side of your neck as his wings unfurled to enclose you closer against his being. “Honestly, by this point, I’m okay with whatever you think just make sure that the colors aren’t too flashy, we don’t want to overwhelm their eyes.” The flesh of your bottom lip caught between your teeth to hide a smile as he gasped before turning you around to face him.

Excitement shone brightly within his gaze as it met your own. “That tone you just used…you know the gender, yeah?”

Unadulterated joy filled you as he beamed. “I’m sure she’ll have your eyes and he will be just as tall, if not taller, than you.” Your hands reached out to lightly pat his cheeks when what you was sure to be a mental capacity breech caused the pro hero’s expression to become blank. “Honey, are you okay?” Concern would’ve filled you if not for the slow grin that lifted his lips. It was the widest and most genuine one you’ve seen since the private wedding, making even the one you’d seen when telling him that you were pregnant seem lackluster in comparison, the pads of your fingers gently wiping underneath his eyes that began to swim with moisture. “Keigo?”

“T-twins? You’re absolutely sure, (Y/N)?” The wings upon his back that had retracted poofed as you nodded in confirmation, a few of the feathers separating to lightly tickle the bulge that was your stomach.

“The doctor said that it’s the girl who keeps kicking while the boy seems to favor snuggling with my placenta.” Alarm filled you when he suddenly began to pace the small room with that concentration filled look on his face but it gave way to calm acceptance while taking a seat in the nearby rocking chair to comfortably watch as whatever inspiration that had hit him slowly manifested itself courtesy of the pencil that had appeared in his hand out of thin air. “Can’t wait to see what you come up with,” you called softly so as to not break his train of thought, hands rubbing the growing bump as a kick came from the left and a flutter from the right as if the twins were in agreement with you.

Fumikage Tokoyami: 36 Weeks

A groan slipped from between your lips as you struggled like a giraffe at a watering hole, fingers reaching as far as they could towards the fallen object that had literally jumped out of your grasp. “Oh, come on,” you huffed while straining at the awkward angle and only succeeding in knocking it farther away. Doom settled over you while watching the item completely disappear from sight in slow motion to vanish beneath the refrigerator. “Seriously?!” Tears erupted like geysers from your eyes as you slid to the floor in defeat with gaze locked on the large appliance. You had ten weeks left, the giant machine was definitely too big for you to move, and the growing hunger within your being was multiplying by the second with each salty droplet that spilled down your cheeks.

Gentle hands fell upon your shoulders as a familiar presence seemingly manifested out of nowhere, causing your tear filled gaze to rise and meet a pair of calm vermillion. You didn’t ask when he’d come home, honestly you hadn’t even heard him, but your tears threatened to increase when he held up a bag that had a familiar logo then proceeded to open a package that suddenly made your life brighter. “I noticed that your choice of snack this week was dangerously low so I took it upon myself to purchase more.” He readily altered his stance down to one knee as you accepted the offering when he held it out to you, sniffling while one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders once you’d taken it, directing your attention to the refrigerator in time to see Dark Shadow appear from beneath with the fallen one in tow.

It was literally gone within seconds between your hungry lips but it was accompanied by a wide eyed exclamation when from beneath you appeared a large puddle of translucent liquid. Blinking, you leaned against him as he helped you to stand and met his gaze with a gasp when realizing that your water had just broken. Panic instantly began to seep into your bones when realizing just what was ahead of you. “F-Fumikage?”

“The bags are already in the car, I will send word to the agency, family, and friends of what is happening.” He soothed while nuzzling your cheek comfortingly, “it is time to meet our little one.” His tone remained soft and soothing as he helped you out the door with careful steps, his hands never leaving yours except to slip behind the steering wheel so that he could drive to the hospital. “I am here with you, my angel, as is everyone else.”

You took a moment to pause in the hallway where the door was open to the spare bedroom that had been transformed into a nursery. Cloud gray walls decorated with constellations, plush navy carpet, lavender hued crib tucked in the far corner but not too far from the changing table or rocking chair that the two of you had gone to six stores to find, and the ceiling was decorated with shifting galaxy images courtesy of the aurora nightlight that was plugged in beside the door. The fluffy clouds had been your idea, one that he had gladly added despite the difficulty of finding the perfect material for them, that gave the ceiling a multidimensional affect with the gently swimming colors and the glittering stars painstakingly painted on the walls. Had it really been finished just a week ago?

“(Y/N)?”

Turning, you faced him fully as Dark Shadow waited within the open doorway that would lead outwards to the garage. He must have caught on to what you were feeling if you couldn’t make sense of them fully yourself and rested a hand upon your swollen stomach in time to feel the first of many contractions. His gaze was steady as you remembered the breathing exercises that the nurses had taught, taking comfort in the hand that he ensured was within your own with laced fingers, until it passed and left your slightly winded and leaning against him for support.

“A-any chance we can stop for something to eat before going to the hospital?”

A rumbling chuckle sounded from the black clad hero as he encouraged you to walk.

Katsuki Bakugo: 42 Weeks

“You are out of your damn mind!” Ruby eyes widened as you finished yet another plate of food. He was known for his love of spicy foods just as much as his quick temper, what with him being a pro hero and all, but even he had been left practically speechless when coming home to find you rearin’ to go lay waste to yet another restaurant. This would make the fourth unsuspecting business to suffer your insatiable appetite in the last week alone and the eighth time his credit card would dangerously reach its maximum limit.

Your hands fell to rest on the large bump that had grown so much you could barely see anything around it if it wasn’t high enough, a twitch settling in your brow when the man across the table used a napkin to wipe his brow. “I don’t see you coming up with any ideas of how to help induce me, Boom-Boom-Man, and we’ve tried everything in the book from herbal tea to this-” one hand rose to sweep out across the table literally covered in every spicy food that the restaurant had to offer as he came around to help you stand from the chair you fell into upon arriving, “-hell on earth spicier than Satan’s ballsack on a Midwestern dry heat wave over a drought ridden roadkill carcass of food espionage! Nothing has worked and yet you continue to fucking watch as I lumber around like a penguin!” It was clear that several other women who were within earshot were sympathetic towards you but it was the looks from the men who had their eyes on your husband that finally pushed you over the edge. The firecracker blonde blinked when you grabbed his shirt with a fist. “That’s it. We’re fucking in the car.”

It was as if a bomb went off as silence fell over the restaurant at your words.

Considering the circumstances, you were too focused upon your husband who looked as if you’d literally slapped him across the face with a riding whip as he still didn’t fight against your hold while exiting the building. The beeping of the car was enough to snap him out of his stupor though, his larger fingers gently removing your own from his shirt. “Don’t be crazy or stupid, dumbass—”

“Oh, really?!” You whirled on him with twitching eyes, hands settling on your hips when he bristled at your shout. “The pro hero who rushes in during rescues and villain attacks is telling me, his wife, not to be crazy or stupid?! Look in a fucking mirror, Katsuki, cause you’re the hypocrite who hasn’t touched me once in the last two months and I’m so sick of you treating me like a porcelain doll all the time! I’m not going to shatter the second you touch me, idiot!” By this point you were nearly screaming up into his face with tears streaming down your face but he was smart to know that right now it wouldn’t be wise to interrupt you even when people began to gather in the parking lot out of curiosity to see what all the commotion was about. “I know you’re worried about the baby but c’mon, what about my needs?! You think I don’t want you to kiss me?! Do you honestly believe that I wouldn’t want you to touch me intimately during this entire time?!”

One of his brows rose when you began gasping for breath from winding yourself, a silent request for him to be allowed to speak which you flipped him your middle finger.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself, Katsuki Bakugo, because whatever you have to say I’m not listening—” A shriek slipped up your throat as with a roll of his eyes he swept you up over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. He had placed his arm ever so carefully around your hips just below the giant bulge that was your unborn child but his hold was strong enough to prevent you from wiggling free. “Put me the fuck down right now!” Your fists pummeled his back to no avail as he began walking down the sidewalk, the built up stream and pressure that had fueled your outrage combined with a dangerous amount of hormones finally dissipating as after several minutes of him silently walking. Regret filled you when he came to a stop at a crosswalk, a familiar park waiting on the other side, your hand lightly patting his arm. “Can you put me down now?”

Nothing.

“Look, I’m sorry for what I said and how I acted. Please?”

Silence.

The guilt you felt tripled as the light changed, allowing him to proceed, and resolved yourself to being the sack of potatoes that you practically were until he saw otherwise. You didn’t have to wait long and soon found yourself being placed on your butt within a swing with those ruby infernos staring down at you with a brilliant flame. Punishment was definitely in your future.

“Katsuki?” Heat erupted across your body as he circled you like a predator with narrowed eyes until coming to a stop behind you, shivers and thrills slipping down your spine when his hands grabbed hold of the swing’s chains that caused you to sway slightly until the firm hardness of his body met your back with a yank.

“Shut up.” His growl in your ear as a hand snaked downward until it was cupping your throat sent a jolt of arousal through your core when the other snaked down to rest against the place where your heart pounded so loud you were sure he could hear it. The warmth of his being against your own was euphoric but it was the devious fingers that eased within the folds of your wrap dress that caused your head to fall back with a held back groan. “You wanted it so damn bad that you were ready to fuck in the car?” Words, vocabulary, heck even the alphabet itself abandoned you as the shell of your ear was caught between his teeth in a sharp bite that was soothed by the light drag of his thick wet tongue. Another growl sounded when his fingers found the growing moist spot that was nestled within the apex of your legs that made your cheeks heat beyond what you thought was humanly possible when the coil within suddenly snapped. “Haven’t even properly touched you yet and you’re this fuckin…”

A disappointed whine slipped up your throat when he withdrew, making to turn around and prepared to beg for him to continue, when you spotted his smirk. Hormones that had been raging for physical touch took a complete 180. “Wipe that fucking grin off your face before I decide to sit on it.”

One of his brows twitched; he’d definitely heard your hidden challenge. “Just remember you asked for this.”

Alarm filled you as he walked until you were suspended above him, his face made to disappear within the crook of your neck where you knew he was about to bite you, but halted his advance by taking hold of his shoulders.

“Woman, you’re sending me mixed signals here!”

Your lips quivered, instantly causing his anger at being forced back to be forgotten as the carnal lust within his gaze was replaced by concern. “K-Katsuki, I think my water just broke.”

Together your gazes darted downward and sure enough there were trails of translucent liquid trailing down your legs.

“Damn I’m fucking good.”

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