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melyaliz · 3 years

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Remember Me 10

Master List

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x OC

Notes: Trying to catch up on a few chapters.

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---------Bakugou---------

Everything was lovely. Perfect and beautiful. The food was delicious, the drinks were sweet, Olive looked amazing

And Bakugou was about to murder that lady who wouldn’t stop taking pictures of them from across the room. Seriously? This was supposed to be a nice place and these people were acting like riff raff. He couldn’t even pay attention to the questions Olive was asking him. His date clearly saw the woman as well since her gaze kept darting over to the rude fan. However, unlike him she wasn't really acknowledging it.

Oh great, now she was coming over here.

“Excuse me, are you Ground Zero? My son loves you, Japanese heroes. I was wondering….”

Olive’s brown eyes grew wide, blinking in shock at the woman standing before them. “We’re actually in the middle...”

“Oh he doesn’t mind honey. After all these heroes love attention.”

“Maybe after we eat?” Olive’s eyes darted from the woman to Bakugou’s hands which were gripping the table so tightly it was a shock it didn’t break. It was VERY clear that he was NOT loving this attention. Quickly the young woman tried to think of another way to de-escalate this situation. While she hadn’t known Bakugou for long it was clear from both the resorts and their conversions he was not the picture of easy going. Which was the kind of attitude you needed for women like the one standing by their table.

“No no, actually could you just take the photo?” she asked holding out her phone to Olive who looked down at it. The situation being so comical she was having a hard time not laughing. God if only she could be filming this situation to save forever. This woman was a piece of work. Looking back up at the prestant fan Olive was about to respond when Bakugou, who had been festering in his seat trying to keep his cool for the whole interaction, lost it.

“Can’t you see we are on a DATE!?!” The blonde snapped sparks flashing from his fits singing the white tablecloth as the women, shocked, instantly took a step back.

“Oh excuse me… I didn’t.”

“Just go!” he snapped, already feeling that mix of annoyance and instant embarrassment that he had just lost his temper in front of his date. His face so red it almost looked like it was on fire. His hair standing on edge looking like the small sparks that were flickering from his palms.

But the damage was done. Glancing over at Olive he noticed she wasn’t even looking at him but her phone. After a moment she glanced up at Bakugou then the woman who was retreating to the safety of her own table. Slowly turning back to Bakugou Olive took a sip of her wine, her face totally unreadable.

“ My friend and his wife are going to this bar where this metal band Revocation is playing. Did you want to ditch this and go ?”

“Uhhh” Still coming down from the scene that had just transpired it took a moment for his brain to register what she was saying.

“ It’s this band ” she held up her phone for him to see, “ I know you like Metal so… ”

“ Yeah let’s go ” he stood ready to leave right now. Over this whole fancy restaurant and it’s perfectness. Honestly, this wasn’t really his thing he had only taken her here because he knew chicks liked it.

Or apparently the chicks he had taken out before Olive.

“We still have to pay. ” she mumbled reaching for her bag.

“ Don’t you dare, ” he growled, still heated. Freezing Olive glanced up at him before sitting straight in her chair a small smile slowly starting to grow on her face. Sipping the last of her wine she tried to hide her amusement.

Bakugou decided not to ask her what she found so funny instead pulling out his wallet taking a few deep breaths. Calming himself down. Breath Bakugou breath. As if on cue the waiter came rushing up. He had no doubt witnessed the whole scene and was ready to get this explosive hero out of his restaurant.

“ I’ll order an uber. ” Olive said, “I’m excited” she added in english smiling and Bakugou suddenly felt like a huge weight had been lifted.

The club was a small hole in the wall with a stage. Dirty with low grade alcohol and beer. Olive ordered for them saying Bakugou had to at least try a local brew since he was in San Diego.

It was ok, a little bitter for his taste.

The opening band was ok. He might had enjoyed it more if Olive didn’t seem so distracted. She kept stepping forward slightly, casting a half a glance behind herself as if trying to discreetly see something behind her. Her distraction distracting him. What was wrong with her?

Then suddenly her body became translucent and some guy who had been standing behind her fell through her. Slowly, as if she was underwater, she stepped over him glaring down at the offending man.

“Wow, not cool!’ the guy says getting up touching his face checking if there is bleeding.

“Yeah, it’s really not cool that you kept touching my ass!” she snapped up at him. Eyes flashing with frustration. “If you're close enough to fall, you're too close.”

“I can’t help it, that skirt….” his predatory gaze at said skirt was cut off by Bakugou stepping in front of Olive. English my not be his native language but he had heard enough to understand what was going on. And he was not ok with it.

“Get away from her.”

“You with her?” The guy asked sizing Bakugou up. It was apparent, even dressed in the nice slacks and button up that Bakugou had put on for this evening, that he could take this guy. Yet this guy didn’t seem to really understand that as he puffed out his chest trying to make himself look better.

“I will kill you” small sparks flickering in his hand ready to take this guy out. Who did this creep think he was?

Bakugou was about to show this douchebag JUST who he had been messing with he felt a hand folder over his own stopping him.

“Just walk away and stop touching women without asking.” Olive said calmly, her hazel eyes hard as her grip on Bakugou’s hand tightened slightly. The guy, who had seen the sparks, knew he was no match for the blonde and decided to leave while his limbs were still attached.

“Olive!”

At the sound of her name Olive turned and waved to a couple coming up toward them. Her hand still intertwined with Bakugou’s. As the couple came closer she dropped his hand and Bakugou couldn't help but miss her touch a little. But only a little.

The guy who had called out her name pointed his thumb behind his shoulder at the creep who was now nursing his pride at the bar with a bottle of IPA. “What happened with that guy?”

“ Bakugou, this is Peter and Emma . ” Olive said, pointing to the couple. The guy had shaggy auburn hair with pale skin and a face of freckles that made him look almost like an overgrown child. The woman next to him had short curly black hair and dark skin. They were such a contrasting couple they almost stood out in the crowd of people. “That guy tried to grab my ass and…” she started retelling the incident so quickly that Bakugou couldn’t keep up. She even kept using her hands to act things out while adding in sound effects making the couple laugh.

She must have reached the end because Peter leaned over toward Bakugou holding up his hand for a high five.

“Dude nice!”

Bakugou wasn’t really the high five kind of guy but he had also had enough PR classes to know when to just do it. What was the term american’s used for these kinds of guys? Oh yeah, surf bros. Peter was a surf bro. Although his energy level did kind of remind Bakugou of Kirishima.

The rest of the interaction throughout the concert was awkward slow english with Olive mumbling a few words here and there. The couple was friendly enough but for the most part they were there to listen to the music and Bakugou was grateful they didn’t force too much conversation. Although, every once in awhile Peter would glance over at Bakugou sizing him up as if trying to gauge who this person Olive had brought was. It took a lot of self control not to call him out on it but after the restaurant Bakugou knew he needed to keep his temper in check if he wanted to save tonight. And deep down he wanted to make a good impression on this girl who would rather spend the night listening to Metal music while drinking cheap beer than at a fancy restaurant.

As the night wore on and the drinking continued Olive’s Japanese became better and worse all at the same time. Her confidence was rising so she was speaking quicker but because of that she kept mixing up tenses and direction. One moment Bakugou could understand everything she was saying with total clarity the next it was as if she was speaking totally giberious.

It was kind of cute though because she was so confidently failing.

As the last few songs started to play Peter and Emma had disappeared to the bar and had never come back. Not that Bakugou really cared, he was too busy explaining drumming techniques to Olive.

It had all started with her leaning forward to ask a question about the drummer, her body barely touching his as her hand gently touched his arm to pull him down to her level so she could into his ear. As the music wore on, she had slowly wormed herself under his arm, his hand gently on the curve of her back as they continued to talk music. Well Bakuogu explained, she mostly asked questions with wide eyes of wonder at his knowledge which just fed into his ego.

He was surprised how even drunk she kept up with his questions and prodded deeper. She wasn’t asking to flatter him or fuel his ego, she genuinely wanted to hear what he had to say.

Soon the conversation shifted from music to his powers and moves he was working on. A small smile was on her face as she watched him explain a trick he had been trying out. It was a little more subtle than his normal moves but he was realizing he needed some smaller, more controlled ways to use his powers in more crowded arias.

“What?” Bakugou paused frowning down at Olive who was just smiling up at him hanigng onto his every word. Biting her lip she shrugged.

“I just like you and your interests”

“My Interestings?” he chuckled gently brushing away a few strands of her hair that had fallen into her face.

Olive scrunched up her nose trying to find the right words, stumbling for a few moments she just sighed, shrugging, “I just really like you.”

“Oh do you” Bakugou said leaning forward grinning down at her, all teeth as his crimson eyes studied her expecting her to get flustered at his forwardness.

To his delight he noticed a small flush spread across her pail skin as Olive nodded her eyes never leaving his. Without thinking she licked her lips and Bakugou’s gaze followed her tongue. Moving a few inches closer he was only a hair's breadth away from her.

For a moment they both stood there just wrapping up in the moment, daring the other to make that move. To push toward that next step in this murtal attraction. Admitting that maybe there was something there, something worth exploring.

If asked, Bakugou will always say it was him who took that step forward. Who kissed first. And maybe he was, but if he really was forced to admit it he wasn’t really sure. All he knew was that one moment he was thinking about kissing her and the next he was.

She tasted just how he imagined she would. Sweet and playful, a bit like the beer she had been drinking and surgery sweet from the lipgloss she was wearing. Her body seemed to melt so willing into his, her hands gently pressed into his body, one on his arm and the other on his chest.

Not one for PDA, Bakugou moved her into a dark corner of the bar. She giggled as he pulled her to him again, his hands moving down her body to her hips, pulling them flush to him. She let out a little grunt pushing herself onto him. Her hands moving to his neck pressing herself into him as she grinded into him

“My place?” he asked huskily in english pulling himself slightly away from her, just enough to catch his breath. To put himself back together. Hif brain buzzing with more than just the alcohol.

It was like a switch in her brain went off and she pushed away.

“I can’t I’m married ”

It was Bakugou’s turn to jolt back. It was as if with those four words he had become completely sober and painfully aware that he had just been making out in some dirty dive bar. “ What ?” There was no way his brain tried to reason. Her friends would have said something. He would have seen a ring.

“He’s dead… I… you should know though because I like you” the words were slurred and making no sense to him as he stood there looking down at her completely lost. Those lips he had just been kissing pulled into a grimace as her breath became shallow.

Fuck fuck fuck.

What the FUCK?

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“Can I kiss you”

Bakugou’s voice thick and warm like his body wrapped around her. His eyes trailed up from her lips to meet her own with the most intense gaze Olive had ever felt. It was as if those crimson eyes were looking into her very soul. Cracking her open bare before him seeing things she didn’t even know about herself. Nodding mutley her tongue felt like it had been velcroed to the top of her mouth.

He learned forward gently touching her lips. Hesitant at first, testing the waters but knowing them oh so well. Olive couldn’t remember kissing anyone but Eliott so the experience of Katsuki being so good seemed very foreign to her. He tasted sweet with just a hint of smok. The taste of alcohol barely evident on his breath as he slowly moved his lips pulling her in deeper.

It was so warm. His tongue flicked expertly over her lips asking for entrance, his hand travelling up from her arm to her cheek gently pulling her closer to him. His touch was too tender and intimate. As if she was made of porcelain. About to crack and break. Shatter across the floor.

Olive didn’t want to be weak. She wanted to be confident and strong. To be happy. To be the woman she had been with this man who was way out of her league. To be…

To be…

Her heart was beating so fast she couldn’t breath. It was pounding in her chest as if it could crack her very bones shattering through her chest. She needed air. She needed to catch her breath.

She needed Eliott.

Pulling away she could see the concern spread across Bakugo’s face as he looked down at her. He had looked so happy. So focused and now… he was unreadable.

“I’m sorry I…” she stammered trying to pull herself together. Those little porcelain pieces putting them together on this china doll. That’s all she was, a fragile little doll.

“Don’t apologize. I hate it” he cut her off shaking his head, his eyes unable to meet hers.

“Oh…” she paused unsure how that felt, “ I’m not sure how I feel about not apologizing.”

“Well apologize if you are sorry but none of that insecure shit.” he said his gaze snapping toward hers burning bright hot flames in his eyes. He wasn angry. It was taking every ounce of self control to not lose it on her.

And she couldn't blame him. The woman he loved was dead and what he had instead was this… this broken thing.

It made her angry too.

It felt like they were caught in this loop. Both of them were looking for something they were missing. He was looking for something in his past and she was looking for something in her future.

“ I just.. ,” she let out a long breath, “I hate this so much,” giving up and switching to english so she could be as honest as possible. The weight of the statement hung over them, pushing down like some dark storm cloud. Her saying what both of them had been feeling for weeks. Finally out loud. Barely understandable over the music on the dance floor it was still there.It hung there between them both like the chaem that had grown since the accident.

This wasn’t really club conversation. Not that much of what had been spoken that night had been very good “night out” topics.

“Let’s go,” Grabbing her wrist Bakugou turned, pulling her off the dance floor.

“But the others… do we need to say goodbye?” she asked glancing over her shoulder trying to find his… their friends.

“No, I’ll text them later,” he wouldn’t but he knew she would worry and - of all the things on her mind - it wasn’t worth it.

The cool air against their skin seemed to wake them both up. It hit them like an ice cold drink on a hot day as they excited the bar. Refreshing and just everything they needed. Olive let out a long breath, her hands going up to her dark hair wishing she would just massage the answers into her skull.

What were they supposed to do?

“ I hate this too ” his back was to her but she could hear him as clear as if he had whispered it in her ear. He turned to look at her, studying her. “It’s like you are there but you're not. ” he said switching to her native tongue. Just another reminder of how distant they were from each other. Just another struggle in this relationship.

“I feel like I’m living in the body of a stranger. As if I don’t fit in my own skin” hot tears were fighting in her eyes, frustration filling her body like bowling water. Bubbling so close to the rim it would spill over at any moment. “I want to love you, I want to be that girl… I just don’t know her… she’s years away from what I am right now.”

Her words were simple but strong determined to talk this out. Her eyes bright as she searched his answers. How could she make him happy when she didn’t know anything about the Olive he had fallen in love with?

He lunged forward grabbing her arm pulling her to him. Wrapping her in a warm hug. His body enveloping her in his own just holding her as she let out a choked sob crying angst his black tee. His hand gently stroking her hair as he kissed the top of her head fighting back his own tears. He had always hated seeing her cry, and she had probably been crying more these past weeks than he had ever seen her cry in the 4 years before.

But she wasn’t hiding them from him anymore. She was crying freely in front of him. Letting him in to what she was struggling with.

He could feel her hands gripping his denim jacket pulling him closer to her as she shook her head, her tears seeping through the thin cotton of his shirt. Not that he cared. She could ruin that dumb shirt for all he cared.

Just stop crying.

“ I’m sorry ” she mumbled through her sobs. “I’m sorry”

Pulling away he took her face, his in hands wiping away the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs. Bending down slightly so he was eye level with her he shook his head.

“Stop apologizing, this is not your fault and once I find the guy who did this to you I will… I’m going to fix this Olive.”

She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her arm, “W...What?”

“The guy who did this. The moment we find him I'm going to pound his ass into the cement until he undoes this. And then I’m going to kill him for doing this to you. For making you feel so sad.”

She studied his face blinking wide tearfilled eyes unsure if she understood him. But he wasn’t going to clarify for her. She might not fully understand it right now. She didn’t know him well enough to know what he would do for her.

And the answer to that was anything .

“Let’s go home” he said standing up straight holding out his hand for her to take. Gently she slipped her hand into his nodding sniffing again. A soft sad smile on her lips as she blinked away a few stray tears from her lashes. It took all his self control not to kiss her again.

They walked in silence for a while. Lost in their own thoughts. Hands gripping each other as if they so much as loosened theri grip they would lose the other. That they would drift away until the chasm between them was too great.

“ God I’m a mess” Olive let out a wet laugh looking down at her now makeup smudged sleeve and arm.

“Yeah you are, ” Bakugo chuckled looking down at her before trying to rub away some of the mascara and eyeshadow that was running down her face only to smudge it more. “You almost looked this bad on our first date.”

“Did I start crying then too?” The horror written over her face was adorable. Sadness forgotten replaced with total embarrassment. Memories of that night came flooding back to Bakugou. That look of amusement she had at the restaurant. The excitement she had while making him try different beers explaining them over loud music. The way her body rocked out to the music in that bar. And the way that same body melted in to his while kissing him in that dark corner.

“No just sweated, we went to a metal concert with Peter and Emma.”

“Fuck no we didn’t!” Olive’s eyes grew wide at the choices of her past self, “ I must have really liked you… Peter is… was Eliott’s best friend.”

“I didn’t realize that at the time” H e had learned that fun fact a year later when Peter had - in Bakugou’s option- hilariously threatened the hero that if he ever hurt Olive he would cut off Bakuoug’s balls.

As if Bakugou could even imagine hurting Olive.

The memories of that first night and the millions after made him smile, they were such different people back then, yet so much the same. “You also got drunk and told me you were married after we kissed.”

“I didn’t,’” she groaned hiding her face behind her hands “ What is wrong with me? ”

“ You meant to say you had been married but ” he couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. While not funny at the time it was nothing but comical now.“ I had no idea what you were saying. ”

That got a laugh out of her giving him a sense of triumph. “Did I ever tell you that when Eliott asked me out I told him that I was just a very awkward person and if I was too weird he needed to tell me and then I shook his hand and said ‘let’s do this?”

“You didn’t, but I think mine wins.” he said, nothing can top that night in Bakugou’s book.

“Oh for sure” she paused biting her lip, a sure sign she was still worrying. However, her eyes were much brighter now. “You’re better looking than him.”

“I know.”

“Well it’s good to know you know your are hot.” her tone was playful, for a moment it almost felt like the old Olive was back. Teasing him about being so full of himself but also feeding his ego a moment later. “Although it doesn't explain us to be honest.”

“Huh?” he asked, turning to her, confused.

“ Like, you’re the number 1 hero, hella hot and… I’m like maybe a 5 in everything.”

“I wasn’t number 1 when we met, I was number 2. I only became number 1 a little over a year ago.”

“Wait really?”

“Yeah” he sighed looking up at the sky. He couldn't see the stars because of all the lights from the city but the moon looked down at them. Full and bright. “You… I never thought I needed anyone to support me. That I could do everything by myself but you somehow just snuck in and proved me wrong.”

“Now that doesn’t sound like me.” she said softly having a hard time imaging she was cool enough to help a hero make it to number 1. She could barely get herself to an average ranking on the Amazon seller’s list.

“You just kept telling me I could do it. Kept pushing me to do things I didn’t want to do, to get there.” they paused at their apartment building looking up at it as they stood outside scared to go in. as if leaving the city would break this spell they had created. “Deku always said he was who he was because of the people who supported him and I always thought it was stupid. But… you didn’t just support me you pushed me. You helped me.” he looked down at her meeting her gaze. She had been looking up at him smiling softly watching him speak as if he had just told her she was made of star dust or some other romantic bullshit.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, catching him off guard. “I’m not… ready for much more but… just one kiss before the end of the night…. Just…”

He cut her off capturing her lips. Kissing her so desperately it made Olive’s head spin. Just drinking her in as if his actions could say what his words just couldn’t.

He wanted so much more than a kiss. He wanted all of her like he used to have. But he would get what he could take. Because no matter what was going on, no matter what kind of Olive he had right now.

She was worth it.

- GET TAGGED -

Master List

Story Tag: @0hmydeku @inumorph @it-jinxed-us @myraticm

#bakugou katsuki x oc #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fanfiction

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qitwrites · 3 years

Text

growing pains

Fandom: Boku no hero academia

There’s an absolutely atrocious, disgustingly gooey feeling curling around Bakugou’s chest.

He wonders if Recovery girl has any medicine for feels.

5 times the Bakusquad tells Bakugou they love him + the one time he says it back

(AO3)

Ashido is many things. Book smart isn’t one of them.

No really, she’s got so much going for her with her dancing, her strength, her versatile quirk, her perky attitude and even her distinctive appearance, but she’s not one for the books. She doesn’t like them, and they clearly don’t like her back.

Her grades thoroughly reflect this hate-hate relationship.

Ashido tries though, she really does- even if it’s just cramming a few days before the exams, she tries to study. Yao-momo had even gone out of her way to help, but it just doesn’t do the trick. She knows she needs to get her act together and figure this out because she can’t be a hero with a failing grade, and the anxiety and fear starts taking its toll, leaving her restless and upset.

So, when Bakugou sees the pink-haired, pink-skinned pain-in-the ass sulking in the common room, he’s horrified by the words that leave his mouth-

‘Want my help?’

Ashido doesn’t even glance at him at first, choosing to stare at the wall forlornly. She slowly looks up to catch his eye, looks around, realizes that they’re all alone, snaps her eyes back to his and her jaw drops.

‘Me?’ She points a finger at herself. ‘You’ll tutor me?’

‘What did I just say dumbass?’

‘I just- BAKUBRO, THANK YOU!’

‘Shut the fuck up and get your shit. We’ve got our work cut out for us. And raccoon eyes?’

Ashido turns to look at him, eyes bright and shiny.

‘Tell anyone about this and I’ll kick your ass.’

Ashido beams. ‘It’ll be our little secret!’

To her credit, he sees her try. She’s distracted and constantly jumping up and down, too jittery to be in one place, but she also pushes herself to focus, to really absorb the material. Bakugou’s rough with her, the way he is with Kirishima, but he’s generous with the praise too, or as generous as he’s capable of being. It makes him feel all kinds of gross, disgustingly soft and gooey things when Ashido’s eyes go warm with pride when he pays her the smallest compliment.

They work hard for the two weeks leading up to the exams. Kirishima joins them for every session in addition to the stuff he does with Bakugou separately, and between the three of them, they manage to cover most of the syllabus quite thoroughly.

The day before the exam, Bakugou sees the nerves rolling off Ashido.

‘Oye!’

She flinches and turns to look at him, throwing him a sheepish smile. ‘Yes, Blasty?’

He bristles at the nickname but recognizes that there’s no malice, no intention to mock, nothing really- just a nickname meant for a friend. She isn’t provoking him- she’s just nervous and falling back on old, comfortable habits.

He grunts, ‘You nervous?’

Ashido chuckles. ‘Course I am! Don’t wanna let you down, you know?’

Bakugou smacks her lightly on the head with a roll of practice sheets.

‘Who do you think tutored you? Don’t underestimate our sessions. Get in there and fucking obliterate those stupid tests.’

Ashido’s smile grows more confident, and she gives him a huge thumbs up, bumps hips with Kirishima and jogs over to her seat. The bell rings, and the exams begin.

The tests are not bad. Bakugou notes that a good majority of the papers contain material that he’s covered with the two properly, and works his way through the problems, the equations, the literature, all of it. In the very back of his mind, in a place he barely refuses to acknowledge, he hopes that they’re doing ok.

A week after their final exams, Bakugou is walking back from the training centre when he sees a ball of pink approaching him at an alarming speed.

‘BAKUBRO!’ Mina hollers, arms raised over her head as she outright sprints at him.

Bakugou furrows his brow, chest expanding as he gets ready to yell at her when she interrupts him-

‘I passed EVERYTHING!’ Her smile is humungous, wide and warm and genuine to its core. ‘AND I ACTUALLY DID WELL!’

Bakugou doesn’t even realize he’s smiling back, that feral, triumphant grin he has when he beats someone during training or takes down a villain. He’s proud of himself, and he realizes, with a surprising amount of acceptance, that he’s proud of her too. Really damn proud.

He’s a bit slow to realize that she hasn’t stopped barreling towards him though.

‘RACCOON EYES, DON’T YOU DA-‘

Ashido collides right into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Bakugou curses the entire way, but Ashido out-laughs him, her body shaking with joy.

‘Thank you!’ She beams down at him, pulling him into a warm hug. ‘You have no idea what this means to me.’

Bakugou wants to push her off, wants to stand up, spew out some curses and stomp away, back to his room.

But he’s also proud. He’s also happy for her. He’s also glad she did ok. That she worked hard and was determined to make him proud and that she isn’t going to get held back or expelled or something.

So, he blames it on the summer heat when he not only doesn’t push her off but rests a hand on her shoulder, gives her a quick pat, counts to 10 and THEN shoves her away.

Ashido pulls off easily enough, still laughing. She bounces back to her feet, dusts off her track pants and offers him her hand. The blonde looks at it, huffs, and takes it with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

Ashido yanks him to his feet with a strong, firm grip and her eyes go soft and warm and radiant.

‘Thanks again, Bakugou.’

‘Tch, whatever. Fuck off.’

Ashido giggles. Her phone suddenly starts ringing and she pulls it out of her pant pocket.

‘Oh, it’s my parents, I gotta take this!’ She starts walking back to the dorms. ‘Let’s go out this weekend, get some food at the mall. My treat!’

‘I don’t want to fucking do-‘

‘Bye babe. Love you!’ And with that, she’s gone, her laugh echoing around the courtyard.

There’s an absolutely atrocious, disgustingly gooey feeling curling around Bakugou’s chest.

He wonders if Recovery girl has any medicine for feels.

---

Bakugou knows for a fact that Sero is 90% memes and 10% tape.

He has no scientific evidence to back up this claim of course, but he’s definitely right.

The thing about Sero is that the longer you spend time around him, the more you can appreciate his stupid sense of humour, his great taste in mangas, and his ability to make the people around him smile.

Bakugou hates him completely, or so he tells himself. There’s no scientific evidence to prove on the contrary either, thank god.

So, with his shitty sense of humour and his easy-going nature, it’s natural to find Sero with a smile on his face. Not the kind of sunshine happiness that Kirishima has, but more of a mellow, easy joy. His body language exudes a relaxed vibe, immediately making the people around him lower their guard, and he shares a love for healthy food with Bakugou, earning him the blonde’s begrudging respect.

Bakugou finds the tape hero sitting at the kitchen island on a Tuesday night. It’s past Bakguou’s bedtime, but he’s hungry enough to warrant a midnight snack, though he’s not expecting any company. Turns out, neither is Sero.

‘Oh, hey.’

Immediately, Bakugou’s shackles are up. Because Sero isn’t smiling. He isn’t teasing him, there’s no humorous lilt in his voice, no mischievous glint in his eyes, nothing. He’s hollow almost, his skin pale and his eyes sunken in. Even his breathing seems off, too fast and too shallow all at once.

‘What are you doing up?’ Bakugou asks, quirking a brow.

‘Could ask you the same.’

Sero is barely looking at him. He has his phone in a vice-grip, and he looks like he’s going to throw up.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

Sero jolts at that, eyes darting all across the room, and he can’t seem to look at Bakugou. Can’t seem to sit still or calm down. Bakugou can taste his anxiety, and it’s making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He feels protectiveness - strong and vicious and ridiculously overpowering - all the way in his toes.

‘Nothing, ha, I’m fine.’

‘Tapeface, I’m not fucking blind. If you don’t want to fucking talk about it, fine. Just don’t lie to my face.’

Sero finally looks at him, and he looks lost and scared and helpless. Bakugou’s never seen him like this, and the protectiveness surges.

‘I- I didn’t expect anyone to be awake. I’m not sure, you know, how to talk about it. I don’t even know what to do.’

Bakugou grunts to show him he’s listening before turning around and slowly pulling things out of the fridge. He remembers Sero’s love for fruits and soy and all things healthy and decides to make some Mapo Tofu. Not because Sero will like it or anything, the blonde just really likes Mapo Tofu, ok?

Bakugou begins the task of pulling pots and pans out of the cabinets and gets to prepping the ingredients. He keeps himself busy and fills the space with the comforting sounds and smells of food because he is an expert at being unable to talk about his feelings. To articulate his thoughts sans anger and rage and panic. And he finds that it's easier, even if only a little, to talk when the focus isn’t just on you. When there’s stuff going on, when there are other focal points. It’s less scary.

‘My mom is getting surgery.’

Bakugou pauses in his movements. He stays still long enough to indicate to Sero that he’s listening but goes back to work so the focus is still on the food, so Sero will continue to speak. His voice is uncharacteristically soft and so pained, and something in Bakugou churns horribly. He works more softly, so he can hear everything.

‘She’s had medical issues all my life, so it’s nothing unexpected. She gets surgery pretty often, but it’s never any less scary.’

Bakugou can’t even imagine what that’s like, to have a parent regularly undergo medical treatment and surgical procedures.

‘It’s the first one since I got to the dorms. I’ve never been this far away, and I can’t-‘ Sero’s voice chokes. He breathes deeply and continues ‘-I can’t calm down. I begged them to let me come home but they refused, said I need to see this UA thing through, do my own thing, all that.’

Bakugou continues to cook. The kitchen smells warm and spicy, and the sound of sizzling spices saturates the space between them, and he thinks he can sense Sero calm down a little.

‘I get it. I do. They're right and logically, I can accept that. I just. Fuck, this is horrible.’

Bakugou doesn’t offer any words of comfort or advice because what does he know? He has no idea what Sero is going through, and anything he says might sound insincere or plain insensitive. So instead, he cooks. He cooks the meat, mixes in the spices, and tastes the broth. He works fast and efficient, his movements practised. When it’s done, he plates up two bowls, and sets one in front of Sero, taking the seat next to him. Sero’s at the head of the table, so Bakugou ends up on his right.

Sero stares at the bowl and then looks up at Bakugou.

‘Mom makes me Mapo Tofu when I’m upset,’ he grumbles by way of an explanation. The blonde proceeds to douse his serving in extra chilli oil and peppercorns because he made the overall dish at a much more tolerable spice level. NOT for Sero or anything, just because. You know. For the fuck of it.

Sero stares at the bowl of food silently before picking up the spoon.

‘I haven’t told the rest because I couldn’t find a way to talk about it.’

Before Bakugou can figure out a way to respond to that, Sero continues, ‘I’m glad you know, is not so bad to have someone to talk to. Or at, I guess.’

Sero digs in, and after the first bite, his eyes light up.

‘Holy fuck,’ he breathes, ‘this is so good.’

Bakugou smirks, digging into his own bowl and humming in agreement. It’s probably the best Tofu he’s made so far.

‘Shit man,’ Sero says in between big bites, ‘I freaking love this. And you. But mostly this. But also, you. Like 65-35? Maybe 60-40.’

The blonde snorts and Sero’s grin gets wider. They eat in relative silence, with the occasional comment from Sero and the sounds of them kicking each other playfully under the table. When they’re done, Bakugou rinses the bowls in the sink and joins Sero on the couch in front of the TV. It’s gotten ridiculously late, but he doesn’t want to leave him alone.

Sero rubs the back of his neck. ‘I uh, I don’t want to go to my room right now.’

Bakugou leans over the couch, grabs two throw blankets from a bin nearby and flings the yellow one at Sero.

‘Play that cool documentary on speedcubing,’ he barks out, tucking himself under his own red blanket. Sero gives him a wide-eyed look before navigating to the right piece on Netflix. He gets comfortable under the throw, and they fall asleep to the sound of people solving Rubix cubes at inhumane speeds.

Shoji finds them like that in the morning and gently shakes them awake. Sero’s phone has a message from his parents, telling him everything’s alright, and that’s the only reason Bakugou forgives him for gathering the blonde in a big, warm hug before the sun is even up.

He crawls into his own bed 5 minutes later, and his heart feels lighter than ever.

Maybe an antacid will help with all of these stupid, horrid feels.

---

Bakugou doesn’t like people.

As a general rule of thumb, he dislikes them almost instantly. People are loud. They’re invasive, annoying, clingy, and they never smell good.

People are also cruel and selfish and use you as they please.

Bakugou doesn’t like people; until he comes to UA.

Because the people in UA are loud, invasive, annoying, clingy, and never smell great either.

But they’re kind. They’re smart, driven, capable, funny. They work hard, they play hard, and they’re mostly selfless. They don’t flock to him simply because he’s got a great quirk or something. Truth be told, they’re all pretty formidable themselves. Grossly underdeveloped and years away from being at his level, but Bakugou knows that with time, all of his classmates will reach insane heights. They wouldn’t be in UA otherwise.

So Bakugou tries. Mostly because his stupid squad won’t leave him alone, but he tries.

When people hang out in the common rooms, he’s downstairs with them. If there’s a stupid Christmas party, or it's someone’s birthday, or the class wants to go out shopping or to play in the pool, Bakugou tags along with them more often than not.

There is a compromise though. With a social battery as small and easily drained as his, it isn’t uncommon for the class to find Bakugou chilling in a corner with his headphones in, simply taking in the vibe rather than actively participating. There’s no bad blood over this though- they kinda get it. Not everyone is as friendly or as vibrant as Kirishima or Kaminari. They’re honestly just glad he’s there at all, so they do their best to make sure he’s included while letting him set his own pace.

Bakugou’s in one of his recharging phases when he spots Jirou.

The earphone jack hero is wandering around, looking a little worse for wear. There are people from both 1A and 1B milling around, talking and laughing in the common areas, and the energy in the room is almost stifling. The blonde doesn’t miss the way Jirou covers her ears at one point.

From what he can tell, Jirou is an ambivert. She enjoys the company of others often, but she’s also perfectly fine being on her own, with a book and some music to keep her company. Right now, she seems exhausted, her own social battery running dangerously low.

Bakugou catches her eye. She gives him a small wave and he sticks his tongue out at her, pulling the skin under his eye down on one side. It’s petty and dumb, but he sees her huff a laugh and slowly meander towards him. Bakugou goes back to closing his eyes and tipping his head back, enjoying the familiar texture of the common room couch and the sound of the music in his ears drowning out everything else.

He feels the couch dip next to him, close but not too close. Jirou doesn’t touch him, doesn’t bother him, doesn’t shake or poke or otherwise engage him. She just sits there, stock-still.

When his eyes slip open again, Bakugou sees that she’s got her hands in her lap and she’s mimicking his posture, comfortably seated on the couch with her head tipped back. Her signature headphones are nowhere in sight though, and her eyes are open and red.

Distantly, Bakugou wonders if she’s forgotten them. That would suck ass- he’d be lost without his own pair. And Jirou’s relationship with music is on a level no one else can fathom- it’s literally part of her DNA, her quirk, her identity.

Bakugou isn’t sure what compels him to do it- maybe it’s because they both like bugging the hell out of Kaminari. Maybe it’s because Jirou is no-nonsense when it comes to hero work, which he can respect. Maybe it’s because, beneath all the teasing and smart-ass comments, Jirou has often looked out for him, advocating for the need for personal space when the idiot brigade drains him.

Whatever the reason, Bakugou finds himself pulling out his right earbud and holding it out for her, a silent invitation.

It takes maybe 4 seconds for him to feel the bud lifted gently from his fingers. Jirou is careful to not jar his own earbud when she adjusts his in her right ear, and Bakugou moves to raise the volume a little.

It is a bit annoying, yes, to have one ear open to the noise around them, but it’s not unbearable- far from it. He’s got some reggae on right now, a genre he indulges in when he needs to calm down and just relax his body.

When he turns to look at her, Jirou’s got a smile on her lips. Her feet are tapping to the beat effortlessly, and her fingers are mapping out the tune on an invisible fretboard. She opens her eyes and looks over at Bakugou, and her smile widens, crinkling the edges of her eyes.

Thank you, she mouths, flashing him another blinding smile. It makes Bakugou huff.

‘Whatever,’ he murmurs under his breath. The look in her eyes could not be mistaken for anything else- unadulterated gratitude and a heavy dose of love.

These gooey feelings are going to give him an upset stomach, Bakugou’s calling it right now.

---

Bakugou doesn’t even notice the pattern till Kirishima points it out to him.

It goes a little something like this- Bakugou feels off during training, or maybe doesn’t do as well as he’d expected on a test or project, or something just doesn’t go right. So naturally, he’s in a piss poor mood.

The squad’s antics don’t do much for him then, doesn’t really raise his spirits or anything, and he usually goes back to his room, slamming his door shut and pacing around like a caged tiger.

And that’s when his phone rings. The caller ID reads Pikachu.

‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘Bakubrooooooooo,’ Kaminari croons, and Bakugou wants to break something.

‘Fuck of-‘

‘You ever wonder if cereal is soup?’

All the fight drains out of Bakugou, leaving only confusion in its place. ‘What?’

‘Yeah, I mean, is cereal like a sub-category of soup or something? Wouldn’t that make sense?’

‘Dunce-face, what the fuck? That doesn’t even make sense? You don’t cook cereal?’

‘Yes, but you could eat it with a soup spoon. That should count for something.’

‘I hate you. So much.’

‘Aww, love you too bro. Ok, gotta go, byee~’

Bakugou stares at his phone, shocked and confused and annoyed.

But no longer angry. No longer pacing about, no longer in a foul mood.

Another time, after a particularly bad bout of training, ending with aching forearms and snarls of frustration because he needs to get better but it’s not happening fast enough, Bakugou wants nothing more than to scream into a pillow and maybe eat some hot sauce.

Again, he gets a call from Kaminari.

‘Wha-‘

‘Do you ever just think about pizza and cry?’

‘Huh?’

‘Yeah, I mean, I think humanity reached its peak when it invented pizza, you know? And that makes me cry. Such perfection.’ He can picture Kaminari making a chef’s kiss gesture, and it pisses him off.

‘This is why you called me? Are you fucking with me?’

‘It’s really an honest question Bakubro. Don’t you ever tremble at the sheer magnificence of pizza?’

‘Delete my number.’

‘No can do. Gotta go, love you, bye!’

And again, he’s gone, just as quickly as he arrived. And again, Bakugou is left feeling baffled and miffed but no longer angry, no longer itching to scream and claw and break something.

He still eats some hot sauce though.

Kirishima is with him after one of his bad days, sitting on his bed and trying to pacify him.

‘It’s ok, it-‘

‘Shut up, Shitty hair! Fuck-‘ His hands tremble with the need to just do something, vent somehow, to break the tension in his spine. He doesn’t want to snap at Kirishima, which is why he never lets him tag along when he stomps away to his room after a bad day, but the redhead can be ridiculously caring sometimes and Bakugou doesn’t want to hurt him.

He doesn’t know what else to do though.

‘Shit, I- you need to leave, get out before I-‘

His phone rings. Pikachu, it says.

‘Dunce-‘

‘I’ve decided that, in the event of an apocalypse, you and I are teaming up together.’

‘Wha-‘

‘I know you’d much rather team up with Kirishima, cause he’s so strong and handsome and he’s your best friend, but he’ll be fine. I, on the other hand, will die immediately. So, it’s just you and me Blasty.’

‘Fuck right off, why would I-‘

‘We could name ourselves the atomic blondes.’ Kaminari suddenly makes a whooping noise. ‘Damn, that’s perfect Bakugou! I gotta print tee shirts right now, we’d look amazing.’

‘I am not wearing anything that matches you, miss me with that shit.’

‘I promise it’ll be black, and like, soft, with skull patterns or something.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I gotta go anyway, but you’re stuck with me Bakubro. Anyway, bye, love you!’

They end the call, or rather, Kaminari cuts it before Bakugou can get an insult or two in there, and when he looks back at Kirishima, he sees a big, goofy smile on his face.

‘What?’ he grumbles, tossing his phone on his bed.

‘He does that often?’

‘What, call me and say really random, really stupid shit? Yeah, all the damn time. I need to block his ass.’

‘Kinda sweet though, huh?’

Bakugou cocks his head. ‘What’re you talking about? It’s a fucking pain.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t seem as mad anymore.’

‘I-‘ And yet again, Bakugou is disgruntled and confused and irritated at himself, for getting swept up by Kaminari’s pace, but he’s not angry. All the fight has mostly bled out of his limbs, and he feels more or less normal if only a little on edge. Nothing too difficult to deal with.

‘Son of a bitch,’ Bakugou breathes. Kirishima’s smile is a tad wider, and he scoots over on the bed, making some space for Bakugou while he pulls out his laptop, ready to load up some shitty videos.

‘Tell him about this and I will never speak to you again,’ Bakugou grumbles finally, settling in next to Kirishima, leaning most of his weight into the redhead.

He feels Kirishima’s chest rumble with laughter.

‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

Bakugou wonders if anyone’s ever tried to harness the power of feels to run turbines or some shit, because this stuff’s turning out to be overwhelmingly powerful.

---

In terms of quirk compatibility, Bakugou has found his perfect match in Kirishima.

The blonde’s quirk is perfect for offence. Granted, it’s exceptionally versatile and he can handle his own just fine, but with Kirishima, he feels invincible.

Red Riot is unmoving, unabashed, and utterly unbreakable. He knows Bakugou inside out, knows his moves, his tactics, his signals. They fight like a well-oiled machine, adjusting and improvising with ease. Fighting alongside Kirishima, alongside Red Riot, is like breathing. They almost dance around each other, and between taking down villains and conducting search and rescue, they’ve made themselves a formidable hero pair even before graduation.

So, it’s not uncommon for them to be paired up even when they’re working and interning under different heroes. They’re that good.

They’re on a mission together when things take a turn for the absolute worst.

Most of the pros are down, caught in the crossfire or too busy protecting the civilians to engage in combat. There are fires blazing everywhere, smoke congesting the air around them so much that Bakugou can barely breathe.

Riot stands next to him, breathing slightly laboured but otherwise unhurt. Bakugou has a cut on his forehead, blood running down his face, but he feels ok. Good enough to rush into battle and do his part in subduing these shitty villains.

But experience has taught him better than to run in with no plan, even when he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to rush into the action. Experience has taught him that without a moment to catch his breath and restructure the plan to achieve their goals, he’ll be doing a lot more harm than good. It’s frustrating as all hell, but he’s a hero in training. You learn this stuff on the job.

‘What do you think?’ He asks the redhead.

Kirishima straightens out his back, hands on his hips. ‘The elemental quirk user will probably be the biggest pain in the ass.’

Bakugou nods. ‘It seemed like a water quirk. We need to get her away from the buildings, away from the piping. There was also that shitty smoke user, he’s the reason the air is barely breathable.’

‘Yao-momo’s masks would’ve come so in handy right now,’ Kirishima muses with a smile.

Bakugou grunts in begrudging agreement but doesn’t comment further on it. ‘There should be three other villains, all with high-level quirks. I’m not sure which other pros will free up to help, but we have to isolate them, move them towards the construction site,’ Bakugou points somewhat East of their current location, ‘as per the plan.’

Kirishima nods in agreement and catches Bakugou’s eyes and the blonde’s breath hitches.

They don’t talk about it, but here’s the other thing- they’re probably going to get hurt, maybe even fatally. Not because they’re weak or they want to or anything, but the villains seem endless. They’re fucking strong too, and even with an army of heroes, the villains seem to come at them harder and faster the longer this battle goes on. Bakugou can feel his own stamina start to vain, and he knows Kirishima will hit his limit too, slower than the blonde but still. There will come a point when Kirishima’s skin won’t harden and Bakugou’s blasts will lower in intensity till all he can manage are sparks.

And even then, he knows they will fight with their fists and their bodies and their teeth. That’s what heroes do- they put everything on the line, for the people and for justice.

More often than not, they lose their lives for it.

Well, for what’s it worth, Bakugou could not have asked for a better partner by his side in such shitty, dire times. Kirishima’s soft smile seems to reflect his sentiments.

‘Hey, Katsuki?’

The hero code of conduct frowns upon the use of personal names in costume. You have a hero name for a reason, and it helps preserve your sense of anonymity and privacy, even if it’s pretty useless at its job.

For Kirishima to name him, and first name him at that, just goes to show how serious the situation is.

‘Yeah, Ei?’

‘Make me some hotpot when we get back, ok?’

Bakugou inhales deeply, coughs because of the stupid smoke, and his fists clench tight enough to leave crescent moons in his palms.

‘Only if I’m in the mood, Shitty Hair,’ Bakugou retorts, his voice far too soft for the King Explosion Murder hero. But that’s ok- here is only Eijirou, Katsuki, and the world burning around them. Soft is ok here.

Kirishima’s familiar belly-deep laughter gives him a boost of energy.

‘Let’s kick some ass.’

Bakugou feels, for one glorious moment, like he can take on the entire world.

They take their first few steps before Kirishima steps in front of him, blocking off his path. When he looks up to catch his eyes again, the blonde’s protests and insults die in his throat.

Kirishima’s gaze is trained on him as he slowly reaches forward and grabs Bakugou’s right forearm with his right hand, fingers digging into the muscle. It’s a firm, solid grip, reassuring and warm and so very familiar. His eyes are bright, bold, and wine-red. And they’re so full of love, brimming with the kind of affection, respect, and adoration that Bakugou never thought he’d be subjected to. Kirishima opens his mouth as if to say everything his body is already telling Bakugou.

‘I know,’ Bakugou interrupts, voice hoarse. Because he does know. The redhead is his best friend in the entire world, his person, his rock. ‘I know, Ei.’ His own fingers wrap around Kirishima’s wide forearm, gripping tight with calloused, too hot fingers.

Kirishima flashes him another soft smile past his headgear before letting go. He waits for Bakugou to catch up and they walk together, side by side, equals.

When they see the first villain, doing her best to uproot an entire building, Bakugou casts one last look at Kirishima, sees his positively feral smile, and charges with the force of a wild beast.

There are no feels there, just adrenaline, rage, and trust so thick, even concrete would crack under its weight.

---

When you’re training to be a hero, things can go wrong.

Accidents happen. People don’t move out of the way fast enough, or there’s a domino effect of some sort, or the aftershocks of one attack reaches a place it shouldn’t.

Bakugou’s switched up his training partner, choosing to train with Iida to fine-tune his aim and work with a fast-moving target. His blasts hit the mark sometimes, but not always. The gym is huge, so they aren’t really risking anyone with their training; at least, that’s how it is for a while.

But then, Bakugou takes aim and blasts at Iida, Iida dodges swiftly, the attack takes out a portion of the rock formations in the gym, and suddenly there’s a landslide headed right at Hagakure and Kaminari.

Bakugou doesn’t even think about it; his body moves before his brain catches up, and he’s suddenly in front of the two, arms raised to obliterate the debris when he realizes that a portion of the mountain had been laced with explosives for someone else’s training, and his quirk would make things exponentially worse. With the last few moments he has, Bakugou shoves Chargebolt and Invisible Girl away roughly and gets buried under the avalanche of debris.

The last thing he thinks he hears is a chorus of voices yelling Bakugou before his vision goes black.

---

And that’s what Bakugou remembers when he wakes up to white. White walls, white curtains, white sheets.

Unfortunately, the noise isn’t white. It’s annoyingly and stupidly loud.

‘There are too many of you here,’ Recovery girl says, sounding exasperated. ‘He will be fine, he just needs to regain his strength.’

‘Sensei, a whole section of a mountain fell on him, how can he just be fine?’ Jirou questions, sounding severely distressed.

‘Plus, this happened while he was saving me,’ Kaminari chips in. ‘I’m not leaving him.’

‘I have a secret healing quirk of my own,’ Ashido bullshits. ‘He’ll feel so much better when he hears my voice. I have to stay, it’ll be a crime for me to go.’

‘I can tape his wounds?’ Sero offers sheepishly.

He can hear Recovery Girl’s sigh from the other end of the room. ‘And you?’

‘He’s my person.’ Kirishima says it like it’s enough of an explanation.

Recovery Girl clicks her tongue. ‘Overdramatic, the lot of you. Play rock paper scissors or something, but I’m only allowing one of you to stay. The rest of you are going back to the dorms.’

The room bursts into noise again and Bakugou’s head feels like it’s splitting open.

‘HOLY FUCK, SHUT UP!’ The blonde roars from his bed. ‘I LOVE YOU GUYS, BUT IF YOU DON’T STOP YELLING, I WILL BODILY THROW YOU ALL OUT THE DAMN WINDOW.’

His own yelling does more harm than good to his throbbing head, but the noises stop completely so at least it did its job.

He’s alone for a blissful second before a crowd of five idiots surroundS his bed. Kirishima’s face peers into his, smile wide and eyes crinkled around the edges.

‘Hi, how you feeling?’

‘Like someone ran me through a garbage disposal and then put me in a microwave.’

‘Such details, much prose,’ Sero quips, earning him a chop from Ashido.

‘Blasty my love, can we do anything?’

‘Yeah, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.’

Jirou squeezes his calf from the foot of the bed. ‘You gave us a real scare there.’

‘I’m fine,’ Bakugou grumbles.

‘He will be,’ Recovery Girl reiterates, pushing them away and standing next to him. ‘I’ll do another bout of healing once you’ve recovered some of your strength. You can go back to the dorms before bed.’ She turns to his classmates. ‘Only one of you.’

They look at one another and everyone but Kirishima starts shuffling away reluctantly.

Kaminari lingers behind before quickly giving Bakugou a gentle hug. ‘Thanks,’ he whispers into his ear before pulling off and following after the others. Bakugou rolls his eyes and curls onto his side, yelping when he puts some weight on his tender side.

‘Easy,’ Kirishima mumbles, easing him onto his back. When Bakugou is finally comfortable, Kirishima drags one of the chairs lined up against the wall next to the bed and plops down, exhaling. Bakugou opens a tired eye to look at him and sees Kirishima with a stupidly smug smile on his face.

‘What?’

‘You love us, huh?’

Bakugou had hoped they hadn’t caught that, even though he’d screamed it loud enough for the entire building to have heard. Apparently, a cliff falling on you doesn’t stop you from blushing.

‘Fuck off, you were hearing things,’ he says anyway, because what is Bakugou if not in full denial about so many things?

Kirishima’s laugh is loving not mocking, and he puts his hand on Bakugou’s elbow.

‘Good to have you back Kats.’ He gives it a gentle squeeze. ‘Get some rest huh? I’ll be here when you wake up.’

Bakugou gives him a weak glare, but he can’t muster enough rage and anger because the absolute worst part is, he meant it. Because apparently being a rage-filled hero in training doesn’t make one impervious to feels.

Bakugou feels so betrayed by his own thoughts and emotions.

But right as he loses consciousness, he finds himself wondering if he minds all that much and he decides he doesn’t, almost not at all. The answer doesn’t really surprise him either.

He falls asleep to a cool breeze brushing over his skin and the sound of Kirishima humming under his breath.

37 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Heavenly River

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo

Hey, everyone! It’s my pleasure to share my story for Written in the Stars: A BKDK Tanabata zine!

Izuku held his hand flat over his brows as he stepped outside, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun burning in the azure sky. It was a cloudless day, so there was no solace from the bright sun rays spearing down from the heavens. However, there was a pleasant breeze to cool the hot, humid July air; it ruffled Izuku’s tousled pine-green hair and the fabric of his dark seaweed-colored yukata. He adjusted the emerald-hued sash around his waist, more to fidget than to actually fix it, and then pulled out his cell phone to check his notifications. He brightened when he saw a text from Katsuki, who had agreed to come with him to this year’s Tanabata festival.

Almost there, loser. You’d better be ready, or I’m leaving without you.

Izuku chuckled under his breath before shooting his friend a quick text to confirm that he was indeed ready and waiting for his friend to arrive, then stowed his phone back in his pocket. He slid his hands in the pockets of his yukata as he stood on the landing of his mother’s apartment complex. She had hung kuzukago on either side of the door; the white basket-like arrangements of paper strips swayed gently in the breeze, beseeching the winds for blessings of tidiness and thriftiness.

The neighbor to the right had hung kinchaku patterned with pretty floral paper; they’d fallen under hard times since the husband had been laid off from his job. Izuku whispered out a quick prayer on their behalf, wishing them improved fortunes and good luck. Their other neighbor had hung several chains of paper cranes in their windows, as their grandmother had recently fallen ill with pneumonia. Izuku had recently heard she was on the mend, and he hoped that this information was still true. She was a lovely lady who always brought Izuku’s mother homemade cookies when she visited, so Izuku hoped she would recover and be discharged from the hospital soon. Along the underside of the balcony, fukinagashi streamers swayed in the breeze with their colorful tails ruffling along the wind like Orihime’s fabled weavings.

People need wishes more than ever, Izuku thought as he leaned against the metal railing framing the walkway and looked out to the street below. Though All for One and Tomura Shigaraki had finally been defeated, the scars of their reign of carnage were still evident even months later. Across the street, they were still rebuilding the apartment complex that had been utterly destroyed in a fire; bits and pieces of the charred shell were piled in the brown grass to be collected by the garbage trucks later. Hope was still fragile in the community, so this Tanabata festival could hopefully restore faith and positivity in people.

“Oiiiii! Nerd! Stop starin’ off into space and get the fuck down here!”

Izuku glanced down to see Katsuki standing on the sidewalk. He was wearing that scowl Izuku had come to know as an odd symbol of affection, and his hands were buried into the pockets of his maroon yukata. Izuku called down to him in greeting and then took off in a trot, hopping down the steps and rounding the corner to join him on the sidewalk. Katsuki’s vermilion eyes burned in the harsh summer sun, but they were still less fierce than Izuku had known them a little over a year ago.

“Yer mom ain’t comin’?” Katsuki questioned as they set off in a leisurely walk down the sidewalk, subconsciously matching each other’s strides.

“No,” Izuku confirmed with a shake of his head. “She went the other day, so she’s spending the day making yakitori and takoyaki for dinner! If your family doesn’t have plans, Kacchan, you’re more than welcome to come by after and eat with us!”

Katsuki tilted his head to the side, an expression of consideration on his face.

“My folks somehow got roped into workin’ today, so I might take you up on that. Sure as hell beats cookin’ for myself.”

Izuku couldn’t help the happy smile that appeared on his lips; they hadn’t hung out for summer vacation very much due to their respective training regimens, so Izuku was delighted that he would not only be able to attend the last day of the festival with Katsuki but also have him over for dinner. “Wait, though, they aren’t doing the paper boat ceremony until midnight.”

“That’s right! I was thinking that we would spend the day enjoying the festival, go home for dinner, and then go back to do the paper boat ceremony. I know that’s a little past your bedtime, though, Kacchan,” he grinned teasingly and elbowed his friend in the ribs. “Will you be able to handle it?”

“Who the hell do ya think you’re talkin’ to?” Katsuki cried indignantly, jostling Izuku’s shoulder with his own. “O’course I can handle it! Damn nerd, where do ya get off thinkin’ you can insult me like that?”

Izuku laughed as Katsuki flung his muscular arm around his shoulders and jerked him against his side to grind his fist into the top of Izuku’s head. It was a good thing that his hair had always been unruly anyway, because Katsuki couldn’t muss it up too much. Izuku laughed airily when Katsuki shoved him away. The blond buried his hands back into his pockets with a snort, looking away at the large fukinagashi the city had suspended from the light poles. The large ball of yellow, orange, and white flowers hung from the streetlamps, the sunlight catching on the rustling streamers to cast playful shadows along the ground as the pieces curled and fluttered.

“Do you know what you’re going to wish for?” Katsuki asked him after several minutes of silent walking. This caught Izuku by surprise, and he turned to blink at him with wide emerald eyes. Katsuki was still staring out at the road, eyes lidded as he watched the cars trundle by.

“Actually, no,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck while he looked up at the clear blue sky. My goal is to be the number-one hero, but… for some reason, I don’t feel like wishing for that, he thought with a small frown. He’d been wrestling with it leading up to the event, and here it was the first day of the festival— he had to make a decision at some point. “I’ll figure it out when I get there!” He laughed nonchalantly and then looked back at Katsuki. “What about you?”

“I don’t know either.” Katsuki’s voice was flat, and Izuku could tell that he was thinking hard about it. I guess he wants his wish to be important… After all they had been through, Izuku could understand that. They’d endured so much together and grown up so fast. Smiling wanly, Izuku gently bumped his shoulder with Katsuki’s, prompting the blond to look at him with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t worry, Kacchan. We’ll figure it out!”

Katsuki blinked at him, then turned away with a small “tch.” However, Izuku could see that the minute tension had left his shoulders and the stoniness had eased out of his expression.

It was a short walk to the shrine where the festival was held. The street leading up to the shrine was laden with the handcrafted paper ornaments strung from the oak trees that framed the path. On either side of the cobblestone walkway, local vendors had set up their wares; the savory scent of yakisoba floated on the air, making Izuku’s mouth water though he’d just eaten breakfast not too long ago. There were vendors selling handmade ornaments, the pair of them walking past the hairpin maker who came every year, their stall a huge hit with the local girls. Izuku spotted several of them already decorating the ornate updos some of the festival goers chose to wear that night, the hair pins adding just that much more to the look. In the corner, a small troupe of stage actors were recounting the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi for an enthralled crowd.

“Wow, look at the crowd— and everyone looks so happy, too,” Izuku marveled. It seemed that the fair bit of hope the festival offered had drawn many people out of their homes, and he was relieved to see most of them wearing genuine smiles.

“Well, it’s been a shitty few months,” Katsuki shrugged. “They’re gonna latch onto anything positive that comes their way.” Izuku supposed that was true, but it still made him happy for the civilians. They’d all endured a lot— they deserved to celebrate a festival, to wish for mundane things instead of seeing tomorrow.

What did he want to wish for, though?

They walked to the end of the small street, where long fronds of bamboo framed the entrance to the shrine. Paper strips hung from their dainty branches, colored rectangles that swayed among the bright green leaves. The wishes of hundreds were imbued in those simple tanzaku— everything from pleas for academic success to wishes for love to grand hopes for world peace. Beneath the sprawling bamboo were small circular tables, where the colorful bits of paper sat beneath glass paperweights. They waited in a short line to walk up to the table; when Izuku picked up the pen and grabbed a blue strip of paper, he hesitated a moment while he debated what to write on the strip.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see Katsuki silently debating as well. It was strange, their mental debate. After everything they’d done, everything they’d seen, did they feel invincible? Is that why they had nothing to wish for? Or perhaps there was so much they wanted to see the world become and so much they wanted to do themselves, there were infinite possibilities to wish for now. Izuku smiled wanly and looked down at the blank rectangular strip of paper, the canvas to paint a wish of goodwill. He twirled the pen around in his hand, trying to think of what he wanted to wish for most in the world right now.

Finally, it dawned on him. He hunched down over the table to neatly scrawl on the tanzaku: A world where people’s wishes can come true.

Katsuki was still writing as Izuku stepped aside and walked to the bamboo fronds. He stood on his tiptoes to use the small loops of string to tie it on an empty bit of the plant, suspending it among hundreds of other wishes. He stepped back to admire the bit of blue fluttering among the rainbow of colors, while Katsuki passed by him to hang his wish beside his.

“What did you wish for, Kacchan?”

“Idiot,” Katsuki huffed as he turned around to walk back. “If you say it out loud, it won’t come true! I’ll tell ya after midnight, maybe.” Izuku blushed sheepishly at that; he’d quite forgotten that bit of superstition. He didn’t know if Katsuki actually believed it or was simply giving him a hard time, but it really didn’t matter.

They enjoyed the small festival for the rest of the afternoon, starting with the play, since it was starting over as they came out from the depths of the path. They sat with their legs tucked underneath them on comfy cushions (among a bunch of little kids, Katsuki was eager to grouse about) and watched the rendition of the love story. Izuku had always found it kind of sad that Orihime and Hikoboshi were only permitted to meet one day out of every year, but he also marveled that there was a love so strong that not even three hundred and sixty-four days of separation could lessen it. At the end of the play, they joined the actors in singing the traditional song— well, Izuku did. Katsuki would rather drop dead than sing, especially in front of a bunch of elementary-schoolers.

After the play, they stopped at the yakisoba stand for lunch. Izuku swirled the fried noodles around with his chopsticks to scoop bits of pork and cabbage, then spooned them into his mouth. As he slurped up the noodles, Katsuki glanced at him out of his peripheral vision.

“It’s almost strange,” he remarked. Izuku raised an eyebrow at him, and Katsuki looked down into his half-eaten yakisoba with pinkening cheeks. “Going back to normal after, you know… everything.” Izuku swallowed his noodles, looking at Katsuki with widening eyes. Though they were better friends now, he’d never grow used to these melancholic moods Katsuki drifted into. Katsuki’s red eyes were lidded while he pushed the noodles around his plate, pulsing with a serious sadness so unlike his usual explosive personality.

“Yeah,” Izuku agreed quietly. He found his own appetite waning, so he pushed the plate of noodles away and leaned his arms on the counter. “But… You can’t hang onto the past forever. At some point, you have to let the darkness fall behind you and walk toward the sun.”

“Tch. What are you, a fucking poet?” Katsuki snorted, but as always, his words were in direct contradiction to the small smile curling over his lips. Katsuki gathered up a large chunk of the yakisoba and then continued contemplatively with his mouth full, “Towards the sun, huh?”

Izuku smiled, then pulled his plate back toward him to finish it. He wouldn’t want to insult the chef that made the delicious meal, after all.

After finishing lunch, the two of them headed to Izuku’s house. They joined his mother in the kitchen to help her prepare dinner. Katsuki worked on dicing chicken breast into small cubes to skewer, while Izuku prepared the batter for the takoyaki. While they worked, his mother regaled Katsuki with stories of Tanabata festivals past— particularly her favorite tale of Izuku wishing to be like All Might every single year leading up to his acceptance at U.A. Izuku hid his bright red face in the refrigerator while pretending to look for the octopus tentacles, while Katsuki just guffawed about what a groupie he was.

The scent of frying batter and grilling chicken filled the kitchen as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. Izuku’s mother had begun singing the song, and Izuku had taken it up as well, annoying Katsuki with their repeated trills of the tune:

“The bamboo leaves rustle, shaking away in the eaves.

The stars twinkle on the gold and silver grains of sand.

The five-color paper strips I have written.

The stars twinkle, they watch us from heaven.”

Katsuki’s lips couldn’t curl into a deeper scowl as Izuku waltzed around him, poking him in the cheek with a leftover octopus tentacle. Katsuki snatched it away and slapped him lightly across the cheek with it, leaving a slimy mark on Izuku’s skin.

“Oi! You sing that song one more goddamn time, I’m gonna fry you into a takoyaki ball!” Katsuki threatened while gesturing wildly with the floppy tentacle. Izuku and his mother just laughed, quite used to Katsuki’s angry outbursts. Katsuki nursed his irritation with a melon soda, clenching the can in one hand while flipping the chicken grilling in the skillet with the other.

It was about seven in the evening by the time the three of them gathered around the kōtatsu table with the spread of food. His mother turned on the television to watch the annual specials— which were just more dramatizations of the traditional story— while the two boys tore into the food with relish. Katsuki had always praised Inko’s cooking skills like the foodie he was, and though he’d probably never admit it aloud, he loved her takoyaki. He plucked ball after ball from the plate to pile them into his mouth until his cheeks bulged like a chipmunk’s.

“The hell you laughin’ at?” he grumbled when Izuku burst into laughter. Izuku just shook his head and used his teeth to slide a piece of the sauce-soaked, tender chicken from the skewer in his hand. He would have laughed if someone told him a year ago that he’d be sitting at the kōtatsu with Katsuki enjoying the Tanabata festival, even more so to be told they were exchanging friendly banter. The realization made a joyful smile spread over Izuku’s face, one that didn’t miss Katsuki’s attention.

“Oi. What are you thinking about?” Katsuki asked, the scowl morphing into a curious look. Izuku’s smile just widened, and he reached out to pluck up one of the takoyaki balls with his chopsticks.

“I’m just thinking about how nice this is, Kacchan. My mom doesn’t remember this, but,” he said, dropping his voice while his mother cried tearfully at the separation of Orihime and Hikoboshi playing on the screen, “A few years ago, I didn’t wish to be like All Might. I wished for us to be friends.”

Katsuki’s cheeks flushed a bright pink as he released a choking noise. He covered his blush with a broad hand, and he averted his gaze. Izuku chuckled at his shy reaction and took the opportunity to steal another takoyaki ball.

“Damn nerd,” Katsuki huffed with undeniable affection that made Izuku’s heart warm. “You can’t just say shit like that, you know. Now stop stealing my fucking takoyaki. Don’t think I didn’t notice. We may be friends, but I’ll still break your arm.”

They watched the special programs until about eleven, then set off again back to the shrine to participate in the paper boat ceremony. This time, the crowd had gathered at the nearby river, which babbled along another pathway leading to the small shrine. Dew clung to the hem of Izuku’s yukata as he walked on the edge of the cobblestone path where the grass grew. He and Katsuki retrieved their wishes from the bamboo branches, then took one of the prepared paper boats to place the wishes inside. Afterward, they set off to find a nice place to set them adrift.

They sat down on the edge of the bank to wait for the clock to strike midnight. Izuku held the fragile paper boat in his lap while he eased off his sandals so he could dip his toes in the cool water. Katsuki sat next to him, cross-legged and watching the water current swirl in the concrete canal. It was a far cry from the Heavenly River from the story, but Izuku could imagine its beauty with the way the starlight played over the babbling water.

“You know, we’re kind of like Orihime and Hikoboshi,” Izuku said after a while. Katsuki looked at him like he’d absolutely lost his mind, which made Izuku flush and hurriedly explain, “I-I just mean that at the beginning it felt like… You were on the other side of the river from me, Kacchan.” This made the blond settle down, so Izuku continued with a wan smile. “It felt like you were miles ahead, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch up… But little by little, I did, and now we’re on the same side of the river. I guess. Sorry. That was a weird metaphor,” he laughed nervously, playing with the edges of the paper boat.

“It was fucking weird,” Katsuki sniffed, then looked out to the water. “I get what you mean, though.” His voice was soft, a rare hint of gentleness that Izuku still couldn’t believe was sometimes directed toward him. “Just make sure you don’t fall back to the other side of the river, dumbass,” Katsuki said after a second, elbowing him gently in the arm.

“Hehe, I won’t,” Izuku chuckled and elbowed him back.

Then, fireworks lit up the moonlit sky, indicating that it had turned twelve. Izuku and Katsuki crawled to the bank to gently push the paper boats into the water. They watched them drift along the current, joined by hundreds of other little sailboats. Then, Izuku jumped to his feet while tugging eagerly on Katsuki’s arm.

“Come on!”

He ignored Katsuki’s confused sputters of protest as he dragged him up the bank to the walkway overlooking the river, which was lined by red railings. Izuku gripped the railing, searching for their two boats drifting alongside one another, and then pointed them out with a smile. The moon bathed them in a white glow, making them almost luminescent in the brilliant light. The light also played over the water to make it seem like they drifted on rivers of glittering diamond.

“Hey… What did you wish for?” Katsuki asked him suddenly, and Izuku turned to look at him with a soft smile.

“A world where people’s wishes could come true.”

Katsuki raised his eyebrows. Under the pale moonlight, the pink hue that rose to his cheeks was rosy pale. Katsuki bit down on his bottom lip, but that didn’t suppress the little chuckles that bubbled out of his throat.

“Me too.”

Izuku’s smile brightened, and then he turned to look out at the water. It was full of paper boats now, all glowing in the white light streaming down from the cloudless sky. He felt Katsuki nudge him, because of course he couldn’t let the moment pass without another jab.

“What a waste though, ‘cuz it’s my wish that’s gonna come true, nerd,” he teased. Izuku had to laugh and shake his head. Only Katsuki could make even traditional wishes during Tanabata into a competition. He supposed it didn’t matter though, if only one of their wishes were granted or both— either way, it meant happiness and peace for those who needed it most. That’s all Izuku could ever want. He watched those boats drift down the heavenly river, where hopefully the gods would pluck them up on the distant shore. They would read those wishes, and fulfill their hopes.

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

#bkdk #dkbk #bakudeku #dekubaku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero

20 notes · View notes

xnchxntmxnt · 3 years

Note

Hi Spencer!! Ahhh I hope you’ve reached 200 by the time you get this! It’s been so amazing watching you grow and your works have brought lots of comfiness into my life 🥰 thank you so much for creating and writing and making one of the most aesthetic blogs I’ve ever seen (hehe love the constellation aesthetic) sending lots of positive vibes and appreciation your way 💕

For the matchup event (ahh it’s my first time ever doing one and I hope I didn’t put too much 😱) thank you in advance 💖

Name: eggu

Pronouns: she/her

Preferred partner: open to anyone

MBTI: INFJ

Horoscope: Aquarius

Aesthetic: light academia, soft, oversized sweaters, korean street wear, fandom merch, white and pastels, 4:00 am talks about life, stars and clouds

Some things about me:

I took piano, dance and martial arts lessons growing up and I still enjoy playing piano a lot

I enjoy playing video games on my spare time (I’m currently selling my soul to genshin impact)

I really love music of all genres but I’m currently really into kpop and khiphop (my favourite artists are seventeen and stray kids)

I really like naps and sleeping in general and prefer it over eating — I would say I have pretty low energy in general

I like desserts, pastries and dim sum

I recently got into watching art streams, journaling and collecting cute stationery

I’ve pretty much been a huge geek/fangirl all my life and have loved reading and animation since I can remember

I just finished watching jujutsu kaisen and am currently watching fruits basket (lol I enjoy both extreme shounen and fluffy shoujo)

I’m human and have lots of insecurities but I’m learning

Ideal traits in a partner:

Able to appreciate the quiet moments

I’m not a super physical person, but it would be nice to be physically close to someone I trust and that respects my boundaries

Trustworthy — didn’t have a great past relationship 😞

Isn’t afraid to keep up with banter and has witty remarks... someone that can keep me on my toes

Is driven in something they love

willing to learn and grow alongside me

@eggutartu

Thank you so so so much!! 💕💕💕 i worked really hard on the aesthetic so I’m glad you like it and I’m glad you like what I write! If you ever have ideas, don’t be afraid to share!

Anyway, onto the notes & matchup (I was really proud of this one 😁😁😁)

WHEN I TELL YOU I IMMEDIATELY HAD AN IDEA, I I M M E D I A T E L Y HAD AN IDEA. I was so proud of myself when i got this lol cause I saw your entry when I woke up, barely skimmed it, and said…

TSUKISHIMA KEI

✧ 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑀𝑒𝑡 ✧

Okay okay hear me out

Hot topic (or something similar but I’m American so hot topic)

He was looking to get something for Yamaguchi’s birthday & maybe something for himself because don’t tell me Tsukishima Kei isn’t into anime I know he is

Probably shonen but still

Anyway

You were both reaching for the same thing (yes I’m using THAT trope)

Fortunately for you, there was more than one keychain but still

He was about to get low key defensive like “hey watch it” y’know like

Was in a v short mood

But the second he got the word “hey” out he turned to look at you and just

Froze

And got all embarrassed because look at this beautiful girl he’s standing net to shit he was just cursing you out in his brain

So he’s staring at you with wide eyes and you’re like “oh I’m sorry--you like JJK too? That’s cool”

And he’s stuttering Tsukishima Kei is flustered, everybody

So he’s like “uh yeah kinda I guess I don’t really talk about it a lot cause my friend isn’t into it”

“Well I mean if you ever wanna talk about it we can”

“Really?”

“Yeah, gimme your phone I’ll give you my number. If that’s chill”

“Sure, I guess, yeah”

Akiteru was home that day and hadn’t seen his brother smile this much since he was a kid

Any time he asked though Kei just got all huffy and went to his room

✧ 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 ✧

U two make playlists for each other on a regular basis (Spotify playlists w collaboration turned on are your best friend)

They're always killer and hit a little too hard

When you tell him you have a new favorite song, he listens to it on repeat until he knows all the lyrics and can pick on you for saying the wrong lyrics if you ever do

Also because it reminds him of you

He loves that he can be himself around you

Really he does

Like that’s one of his favorite things

He doesn’t have to hide any of his hobbies or really anything about him really and he appreciates it so much

It took a while to get there with him, but once he trusted you 100%, he realized he was in love with you

Love and trust are the same things to him (or at least similar) so he knew he loved you when he realized he really could be himself with you around and probably told you as such

He’s not one to push your boundaries, but just had to tell you so it was probably a text like

“Look I don’t expect you to say this back if you’re not ready for that yet, but you’re so amazing--I need to be honest. I’ve done nothing but stare at the ceiling for an hour and think and just realized how in love with you I am. I really am. Take that as you will.”

And then just straight up DIDN’T ANSWER UNTIL 2 AM THAT NIGHT LIKE “sorry I was at Yamaguchi's” LIKE BRO JUST DROP A BOMB LIKE THAT DAMN

Needless to say, he WAS at Yamaguchi's and left his phone at home but it was because he was too afraid of what you’d say

He got home at 11

He just procrastinated for three hours until he finally answered you back

And when you told him you loved him too, his heart SOARED he proceeded to call yams and squeal like a seven-year-old girl for a half hour

If ur shorter than him he uses your head as an armrest, no exceptions

He does it if you're taller than him too he just goes up on his toes to do it

Anyway

Can and will pick on you for everything

It’s the way he shows his love alright

Cute stationery? It’s tacky and “why do you have this it’s irritatingly adorable”

“You’re irritatingly adorable”

“I’m not adorable”

“Yes you are Tsukki"

Lets you call him Tsukki until you can call him Kei

You have to have a thick skin with him because sometimes it’s hard to tell when he’s being sarcastic or not

If he ever did make you cry or genuinely upset though, he’d tear himself to pieces about it for hours and be completely unresponsive to his phone if you text him because he thinks you hate him

When he finally texts you back he’ll never admit how upset he is, but he will apologize for making you upset

It’s really hard to do emotions with this dude but you try to manage

If you can figure out how to make him talk about his problems “let’s talk about Akiteru” “no”? Yamaguchi will love you forever

You get the best friend approval anyway but you get an extra gold star if you can get him to open up more

Oh and you totally like to show up at games or practice and everyone including Ukai and Takeda love you for it because he tries a little harder so he doesn’t look bad in front of you

It’s like a switch he goes from like 5% to 70% effort but that’s the best he’s giving until it’s game time then he’ll crank it to 100%

✧ 𝐷𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐼𝑑𝑒𝑎 ✧

Okay okay but but but but but

Anime dates

Like once a week you two sit and watch anime over discord or smth

You don’t usually talk much but it’s nice to be in each others’ presence

Or close to that

When you can get together it’s that much better

You trade off whose house you’re at every other week, and whoever's visiting picks up snacks on the way

You’ll watch tv, make fun of the characters together, roll your eyes at the sappy moments but lean over to kiss Tsukki anyway

It’s overall a very wholesome scene

But there will be times when he is stressed and tired for whatever reason and he’ll fall asleep

Sometimes he’ll be curled into a little ball on his side of the couch

Sometimes he’ll slouch his head against your shoulder with his arm around your waist

Sometimes he’ll pause the show and pull you down against him and just lay with you for a while

Not even watch tv just

Be happy in each others’ presence

He’ll fall asleep from time to time and you take his glasses off for him

He looks so soft when he’s sleeping and not glaring at people

✧ 𝑍𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑐 𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ✧

Libras, while they may not exactly say it, are romantics. They enjoy little things about romance, however modern, like spontaneous dates and flowers. They initiate clever ideas and Aquariuses are good at adding a different perspective, so prepare for in-depth conversations. On the other hand, Aquariuses tend to be trendsetters, which Libras support wholeheartedly.

✧ 𝐴𝑒𝑠𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐 ✧

✧ 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✧

my boy - Billie Eilish

Hug - SEVENTEEN

King of the Clouds - Panic! At The Disco

She’s In The Rain - The Rose

I Can’t Handle Change - Roar

Runners up: Sugawara Koushi, Akaashi Keiji

#��︎ — announcements #ꕥspenceranswers

8 notes · View notes

brightbeautifulthings · 4 years

Text

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

"That was what magic did. It revealed the heart of who you'd been before life took away your belief in the possible. It gave back the world all lonely children longed for."

Year Read: 2020

Rating: 3/5

About: As the only survivor of a vicious and unsolved homicide, Alex is at rock bottom when she's offered a chance to turn her life around. In exchange for a full scholarship to Yale, an organization of the school's twelve supernatural houses requires her unique ability to see spirits, called Grays, and keep them out of their rituals. The houses are made up of the extraordinarily wealthy and powerful, the future political figures and Wall Street moguls, the ultra famous of Hollywood and the New York Times best sellers list. Alex's house, Lethe, is meant to keep the others in check, to ensure that they don't abuse their powers or harm innocent bystanders. But when a local girl turns up brutally murdered, Alex's investigation makes her realize that the houses are rich children playing with a power they can't hope to control or contain. Trigger warnings: death, gore, body horror, rape (on-page, multiple instances), violence, guns, severe injury/illness, hospitals, sexism/misogyny.

Thoughts: I had high expectations for a dark academia novel by Sankta Bardugo, but there are two things that are very clear about Ninth House: 1) It's a slow burn, and, 2) It's not going to work for everyone. The first is the biggest reason for my mediocre rating. It takes at least half the book for things to even begin to take off, and that first half is a struggle. There's a lot of information on the magical houses of New Haven, much of which doesn't yet make sense because we don't have any context for it. There are a lot of descriptions of Yale and its buildings, many of them meandering and unnecessary. It's clearly written by a person who has been there and loves it, and the sense of place is strong, but I found my attention wandering in the middle of sentences--likely because those sentences don't need to be there. My attention span is better than average, but I Googled a lot of things on my phone while I was supposed to be reading this.

Then there’s the information overload. Twelve is a lot of houses, and each has its own specific kind of magic. Rather than learning about them organically, as Alex interacts with each, there's a lot of random info dumping and references that don't make sense. However, that happens in books with complicated histories and magic systems, as this one does, and I could overlook it. (The organic part comes later in the book, thankfully, and things finally start coming together.) Less forgivable are all the pretentious references to various artists, architects, writers, and historical figures, most of which flew right by me because I didn't get my degrees at an Ivy League institution. I know I signed up for pretentious in a dark academia novel, but it's excessive and a bit alienating.

I have some issues with the magic system as well, mainly because it's a hodgepodge of Greek, Egyptian, Chinese, and god-knows-what-else mythology. Bardugo has proven in past novels that she's capable of building complex and original magic systems, and that would have been better suited here without all the incomprehensible references. Truly, the most interesting parts of the magic are the ones she seems to have invented herself. And it is genuinely captivating, once the excess is stripped away and things actually start happening. There are a number of mysteries to fuel the plot and the suspense: What happened to Alex at Ground Zero? What is the extent of her powers? How did Darlington really disappear and will they manage to bring him back? And finally, of course, who killed Tara and why? The second half of the book is far more compelling than the first as Alex searches for answers and dodges attacks on her life, and Bardugo proves herself capable of writing a compelling supernatural mystery.

It took a while for the characters to grow on me as well. Alex and Darlington are at opposite poles, yet they're alike in the fact that they seem to have no idea that other kinds of people exist in the world or how to interact with them. Alex seems determined to hate everyone and everything at Yale, despite the fact that it offers her a second chance. (She's also the victim of repeated traumas that are never addressed, so I feel for her.) It isn't until she gains a ghostly sidekick in the brooding North that things really start moving, and I was so there for that weird partnership. Darlington is basically Richard Gansey III, a rich and gentlemanly scholar who's in love with magic, but the book is more defined by his mysterious absence than his presence. It takes a while to see more of Dawes as well, but I ended up liking her. She's basically the stressed graduate student trope, with a motherly streak and more gumption than she seems to have at first.

The minor characters are varying shades of rich, pretentious asshole, and it's hard to tell them all apart. The culture of privilege and zero consequences is nauseating, both to Alex and to the reader. Detective Turner says it best, almost exactly echoing my thoughts throughout most of the book: "All you children playing with fire, looking surprised when the house burns down." And it's hard to feel much sympathy for anyone when it does. Alex is an often humorous contrast with her crassness, no bullshit, and devil may care approach to rules. It's ultimately a good cast, but getting to know them is as sluggish as everything else in the book. I was invested in it by the end, and now that the world is well-established, I have higher hopes for the sequel. It has the potential to be a really incredible series.

#book review #ninth house #leigh bardugo #dark academia #supernatural thriller #3/5 #rating: 3/5 #2020

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erinkappeler · 5 years

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Quit Lit, Stay Lit, Light it All On Fire

I have fantasized often over the past three months about being able to make this announcement publicly: I’ve accepted a job as an assistant professor of English at Tulane (my second tenure track position; I’ve been at Missouri State University for three years). In addition to having fewer teaching duties and more support for my research, I’m getting an $18,000 raise (only possible because my salary has been criminally low, and it’s not even the worst of the worst!). I’m elated. But of course this is not an uncomplicated elation. This is also the time of year when a lot of brilliant people realize they can no longer sustain all the costs associated with looking for a good academic job (one with a salary that is at least not insulting and with benefits).

[I can’t co-sign this terminological change hard enough.]

This is a piece of stay lit, not quit lit. I’m in no position to tackle the complicated morass of emotion from which quit lit emerges (though I was in 2015, when my mentors convinced me to give it one more year). But I’ve been thinking a lot about the cost of a tenure track job, both literal and emotional. I’m offering what it has cost me because I think it’s good for everyone in academia—especially those who have been removed from the pain of job searching in this decade—to be reminded of what it takes to stay. I also want to think seriously about real (read: difficult and costly) solutions to a genuine crisis. (I’m not here for any of the “it’s always been bad” takes.) I don’t want to turn into the type of professor whose politics are performative. Nothing changes if the ones who stay don’t think seriously about the structures we’re staying in and propping up. (It’s also worth noting that not all tenure-track positions are created equal. I’ve been privileged to have the job I had at Missouri State. But I also worked my ass off, teaching between 60 and 90 students a semester, which, please never forget, includes a lot of time serving as a de facto counselor to students in crisis, a job for which I am most definitely not trained and which I find completely and utterly exhausting. Between all of that mental and emotional labor, service work, and trying to keep publishing things, most days I didn’t have the energy to follow the plot of a Top Chef episode, let alone organize for contingent faculty on my campus or anywhere else. And pre-tenure faculty are not exactly in the most secure positions when it comes to rocking the institutional boat.)

The cost of staying

Many people warned me before I started graduate school that I was “mortgaging my earning potential in my twenties.” I sort of understood this, but also I was twenty-three years old and had no real sense of what that meant. Eventually I’d have a stable job, so what did that really matter?

Well, for me now, at thirty-six, I see how it mattered. I’m not starving, but I have no savings (aside from $9,000 in a retirement account that I was only able to start at age thirty-three), no assets, and about $18,000 in debt (some low-interest student loans and some high-interest credit cards). Here’s how the credit card debt happened.

Income through grad school and first years on the job market:

2006–2007 (Grad School Year 1): $12,000 stipend plus $5,000 fellowship

2007–2008 (Year 2): $16,000 stipend plus $5,000 fellowship

2008–2009 (Year 3): $16,000 stipend

2009–2010 (Year 4): $18,000 stipend (raised because a TT faculty member went to bat for us—I think this was the year it was raised, though it may have been the following year)

2010–2011 (Year 5): $18,000 stipend

2011–2012 (Year 6): $18,000 humanities center fellowship at my home institution

2012–2013 (Year 7): $25,000 external fellowship

2013–2014: $19,000 salary at a one-year “VAP”

2014–2015: $38,000 one-year research fellowship

2015–2016: $26,000-ish adjuncting (4–6 courses per semester)

2016–2019: $52,000 salary in a TT position (3/3 teaching load)

2019–?: $70,000 salary in a TT position (2/2 teaching load)

Prior to the MSU job, 2014-2015 was the only year I made enough money to cover my expenses. My family is not in a position to help me out (my parents have had their own job struggles that have coincided with my college and grad school years). Each year there were things I had to have that I couldn’t pay for. They went on my credit card, which had a $20,000 limit, even though my annual salary was almost never above $18,000, because Bank of America is a predatory institution. I’ve never been able to successfully negotiate for more money or resources in a job offer because I’ve never had any leverage, because getting one job offer is a goddamned miracle.

In addition to the financial costs, there are also of course the mental and emotional costs of knowing you’re only going to stay in a place for a year (nine months, really), not to mention moving costs that may or may not be reimbursed, and the isolation that, for me at least, has come with the jobs I’ve had in very small, insular towns. Others have written about this more eloquently than I feel capable of. I just want to note that financial stress and emotional distress work together to amplify each other, as you know if you’ve ever had a depressive crying jag interrupted by a phone call from a bill collector.

I love this profession with my whole heart. It is a complete and total joy, even when it’s difficult, to think, write, and teach. It’s everything I’ve ever hoped for in a professional life. This shouldn’t be a privilege for the few. And that means the few need to fight harder for everyone else playing the good life lottery.

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carmenlire · 6 years

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Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 11

read on ao3

It takes forty minutes to get to the library and two subway changes. Alec is still woefully early, though, walking up to the front steps a quarter of an hour before they’d agreed to meet. He pulls out his phone to check his notifications and his phone is silent. There hasn't been any texts from Magnus today and Alec has the errant thought that Magnus might be avoiding him, that he might not show up this evening.

He’s glaring at his phone, already planning on just how embarrassing it will be to walk back to his place with Simon still hanging about, when a voice breaks through.

“Good evening, darling. Looks like we both like to be early,” a smooth voice says.

Alec looks up and sees Magnus. His breath stutters.

Magnus is wearing black trousers cuffed at the ankle with black ankle boots with a low heel. His shirt is a swirling mix of gold and red and there’s matching blond highlights running through his hair. His makeup is sharp and flawless. Alec’s brain short circuits a bit and there’s a beat of silence before he comes back online, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

“Magnus, hey. You’re looking well.” He fumbles a bit at the end, but Magnus’s smile doesn’t falter as he gives Alec a once-over.

Magnus waves a head dismissively. “No need to flatter me. I’ve been running around all day like a chicken with its head cut off. My students were exceptionally needy today. Inconvenient that it was today of all days, but it’s good to know that they do care a bit more than their blank faces suggest most of the time.”

Alec lets out a breath as he processes Magnus’s words. There’s a pinch of relief knowing that Magnus was busy. He wasn’t actively ignoring Alec. Although in the next second that turns to sardonic self-chastisement. They’re barely friends and Alec is worried about Magnus losing interest? This isn’t high school and he needs to get a grip.

The two of them stare at each other for a long minute, a bubble of stillness as people bustle around them, heading home from work or out to dinner.

Alec shakes himself and nods towards the glass doors of the library.

“Ready to head inside?”

Magnus nods once and smiles, turning with a bit of flair, and holds the door open for Alec when they reach it.

Alec swoons a little at such a simple gesture and tries to ignore how such a little thing makes him warm.

The New York Public Library is buzzing. There are children in one area enthralled with story-time and teens sitting on their phones looking disillusioned and bored in the lobby. There are a number of adults standing at the checkout line and as they walk through the library towards the event room, Alec’s eyes catch on a book display.

Alec keeps up with a handful of writers, is passionate about a range of topics. The display looks to be about new nonfiction and as he looks over the book covers, his gaze lands on a name. Magnus, who was keeping stride with him, falters imperceptibly as he, too, takes a closer look at the line of books.

Alec takes in the title as he picks it up.

European Conquerors: The Rise of European Imperialism in the Seventeenth Century.

It looks to be an anthology and Magnus’s name is the last one, in the place where the most well-known academics are always put, as a sort of literary coup de grace. Alec doesn’t know Magnus’s last name, but it’s not like his is a well-known first name.

Alec repeats it in his head. Magnus Bane. Looking over at the man in question, he’s fiddling with his ear cuff, studiously not returning Alec’s questioning gaze.

There’s a moment of silence as Alec reads the synopsis, glances through the book. Finally, he looks up to see Magnus’s eyes already on him.

His lips quirk up as he raises a brow. “I mean, obviously you’re a brilliant professor, but I didn’t know just how well-regarded you were in your field.”

Magnus shakes his head a little, smiles as he sees Alec tuck the copy under his arm. He starts speaking as they continue to make their way to the meeting room.

“And why would you, darling? We travel in very different circles. You might be well-read but I’ve chosen a career as an academic. I don’t dedicate my life to things that I’m not very good at.”

Alec huffs out a laugh, hums a little in agreement. It’s only a minute later that they’re entering the room. It’s one of the library’s bigger meeting rooms, with a projector hook-up on the ceiling and the screen already pulled down. It’s only about a third full, as they’re just under half an hour early, and Alec faces a bit of a conundrum.

It’s impossible to deny that if anyone saw him, this could turn into a circus within minutes. Alec has had to give up a lot of things for his career but he loves going to lectures and museums and movie theatres-- he’s just gained a better strategy these past few years.

Seeming to pick up on Alec’s thoughts, Magnus falls back a step, following Alec as he makes his way to a row in the middle at the very end, opposite from the door, by the window. They sit down on the hard plastic chairs and there’s a moment of silence.

Alec is overtly aware of Magnus sitting right next to him, so close that their shoulders brush together. He smells his cologne-- sandalwood-- and is a little overwhelmed.

Alec can’t remember the last time a guy affected him like this.

He doesn’t have long to think about the repercussions of that, though, because Magnus turns in his chair, angling towards him, and gives him a less-than-subtle once-over.

“So, darling, tell me. How did such a famous celebrity become so interested in scholarly pursuits?”

Alec laughs a little. “It’s a pretty boring story, really. I started singing when I was sixteen and by the time I graduated high school, I was lined up to tour and record for the next few years. It seemed liked every moment was taken up with making sure I stayed relevant back in those days. College was out of the question, but I was class valedictorian. I was a giant nerd, really, and I figured just because I couldn’t get a degree didn’t mean that I couldn’t learn on my own time, about things I was really interested in. Reading, and documentaries, really became an escape from the crazy world I was not only catapulted into, but was kind of made the king?

“I could learn about Chinese emperors from thousands of years ago or how the brain works. I love history, though, because it’s just so vast, but I dabble in a lot of different areas. Plus, I like to read fiction. Honestly, you name it, I’ve probably read a book on it. I guess, reading is just a passion of mine. I always like to pop into bookstores in every country I tour and I’ve held a NYPL library card since I could walk. I make sure to keep it renewed and while it’s gotten harder the past few years, when I’m in the city for a while, I always visit. They have really excellent collections and their programming is always full of interesting events.”

Alec breaks off, realizing that he’s been talking nonstop. He looks over at Magnus, expecting to see glazed eyes and regret. However, Magnus is looking at him attentively, smiling just a bit.

Alec gets a little lost in those eyes, such a deep brown, and jolts a little when Magnus starts talking.

“I’m proud of you, Alexander,” he says warmly. “It couldn’t have been easy being so young and then thrust into such a world. It’s great to have that anchor that lets you take a step away every once in a while.”

Alec flushes a little, uncomfortable with the praise. He’s received every possible compliment in every combination, but just a few kind words from Magnus has heat building in his cheeks.

He clears his throat.

“Thanks, Magnus. I know it’s not as impressive as you-- a professor at Columbia for fuck’s sake-- but I enjoy it. Speaking of, what made you go into academia?”

Magnus barks out a laugh. “Well, I promise you I never intended to follow this path. In high school, I admit I was a bit of a dismal student. I aced my classes but it was purely because I didn’t have to work for it. School was easy and it left me with entirely too much time to get up to no good. I hung out with a bit of a bad crowd who thought school and homework was ‘lame’ and useless. I usually felt like a criminal working on my papers and assignments in secret.

“It was my senior year and by the grace of God, I had a teacher who took an interest in me. She had to be seventy-- she wore those tortoise shell glasses that hang from the neck-- and she told me that I had potential. Now being a snot-nosed teenager, I curled my lip at the motivational speech and dashed off to meet my friends. Yet, she didn’t give up. Slowly but surely, I started pulling away from those friends and staying after school with her. She would grade papers while I worked on homework and, eventually, college applications. She must have written one hell of a recommendation because I landed a spot at Yale and I haven’t looked back.”

Alec takes in what Magnus has just said, impressed.

“It had to be hard moving to a brand new city, right? Especially since you’d left your old friends behind even before graduation.”

Magnus hums, thinking. “I think it would have been harder if I wouldn’t have made such great friends right off the bat. My roommate freshman year was a transplant from London and while he’s insufferable, he’s also the best friend I could ever ask for-- just don’t tell him that. We both teach at Columbia and it’s been, my God, over ten years now that we’ve known each other.”

“Wait, where are you from,” Alec asks, backtracking a little as he realizes that he’d just assumed that Magnus had upended his life to move to university.

Magnus smirks. “New York born and bred, darling. I live in Brooklyn, now, and honestly can’t imagine myself living anywhere else. I went to England for my doctorate and while lovely, there’s just something about this city that I don’t think I can escape-- or that I would even if I could.”

Alec’s just opening his mouth to ask a question-- the more he knows, the more he wants to know-- when a voice comes on over the speaker.

There’s a few seconds of feedback from the microphone before it’s clear.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the New York Public Library. This evening we have Dr. Lorenzo Rey who’s here to talk about the history of fascism and its role in today’s political climate. Lorenzo is an adjunct professor at NYU and wrote his thesis on the topic.”

There’s a smattering of applause and Alec sinks down a little in his seat, trying his best to remain unobtrusive. He claps a few times but notices that Magnus doesn’t, that he just recrosses his legs and leans back in his seat. It’s a little incongruous that he’d be so rude, especially given everything Alec’s seen so far about the man, but he shrugs it off. Not everyone needs to applaud all of the time, after all.

Dr. Rey talks for an hour. His presentation is informative and Alec wishes he’d thought to bring a notebook to write down some of the more interesting tidbits. He has a tendency to speak directly from the slides-- breaking off only to share personal anecdotes that are probably meant to be funny and endearing, but all in all it’s not the worst lecture Alec’s ever been to.

The speaker opens the floor up for questions and Magnus’s hand immediately shoots up, along with a half a dozen others. If Alec didn’t know better, he’d think that this Dr. Rey was trying to ignore Magnus, as he calls on every other person before finally acknowledging him.

Magnus hasn’t gotten impatient or frustrated. He’s been calmly keeping his hand raised, waiting to be called on.

With an infinitesimal pause that Alec doubts anyone but the three of them notice, Magnus starts speaking. His question appears to have several parts and though Alec is obviously no slouch, he can hardly keep up with the esoteric language.

Magnus is the picture of earnest, appearing like the proverbial scholar just trying to gain answers to a topic of extreme interest. Alec detects the edges of a smirk curling on Magnus’s lips, though, and wonders what he’s missing.

Rey takes a few long minutes to answer, stumbling over his words a few times. At this point Alec isn’t paying too much attention to the content, trying to figure out the dynamics and hidden meanings between these two.

There’s a pause and Alec shakes his head a little, turning in to see that Dr. Rey is apparently finished with his response. Alec can’t be sure but it looks like he’s sweating.

Alec looks over at Magnus and sees nothing but professional calm, though he can’t deny that smug tilt of his head.

The program ends just a minute later and they stay sitting while everyone else floods out, some people walking up to the front of the room to speak to the presenter more directly. It had been a packed room-- over a hundred people-- and once there’s only a dozen or so people lingering, Alec stands up, Magnus following suit.

“So,” Alec starts. “What did you think of the lecture?”

Magnus hums, narrowing his eyes a little as he thinks. “There was a lot of good information. Overall, I’d say he did a competent job.”

They walk out of the room into the busy center of the library. There are people everywhere and Alec’s heart warms-- he loves libraries and it’s good to see one thriving.

He looks over at Magnus as they start walking towards the self checkout kiosk-- Alec still needs to get the book he’d picked up before the program.

“Competent? That’s more generous than I expected. I’m fairly sure I detected some tension between the two of you.”

Chuckling, Magnus responds, “What you detected, darling, was professional rivalry. That I’m winning. Really, it’s not even a rivalry. It’s just Rey oozing his envy all over the place.”

Magnus breaks off and gives Alec a look as he realizes where they’re headed. His eyes dart down to the book that Alec’s been holding onto since they walked in the door.

“You don’t have to actually checkout that book, you know. I’m sure you have better things on your reading list than a dry anthology about imperial conquests several centuries ago.”

Alec just hums a little as he reaches for his wallet, taking out his library card. “No, this has just moved to the number one spot. I won’t guarantee that I’ll read it all-- but I’m definitely going to at least read your chapter.” He throws an open grin over to Magnus.

There’s no response. Magnus just fiddles with that ear cuff and smiles a little, seemingly to himself. Alec quickly scans the book and takes his receipt before facing his new friend completely.

It’s just shy of eight and the sun’s still up. They’ve been together a little over two hours but Alec’s not ready for the evening to end. Magnus is quickly becoming an endless fascinating puzzle to him-- the more he knows, the more he wants to know. Magnus’s intense focus during the lecture was endearing and. . . a little hot, if he’s being honest with himself.

Sue him, he’s always been attracted to the smart ones. There’s just something about intelligence-- as long as it’s balanced out with warmth and humor-- that never fails to make him a little hot under the collar.

Clearing his throat, Alec chastises himself and reiterates that they are just friends. Nothing more. Magnus is looking at him expectantly and Alec says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t know what your schedule is like but if you don’t have a too early morning, we could get ice cream? I know this little mom and pop shop just a block or two over.”

Before Magnus can respond, Alec rushes out, “But, there’s no pressure obviously. We only agreed to the library part. Who knows, you might already have plans for the rest of the night.”

Magnus smiles at him and as they walk out of the library.

“I do have plans. It looks like there’s a little ice cream shop that I simply have to try,” he says with a grin.

Alec’s nerves settle a little and he nods, smiling back at this entrancing man before him. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

They start walking down the block. The streets are busy and the two of them stay close, walking in sync. Their hands brush together, once, and heat climbs up the back of Alec’s neck.

Neither one acknowledges it.

It’s only a few minutes later that Alec’s swinging open a cheery blue door, hears the faint tinkling of a bell chiming above their heads. Magnus nods once to thank Alec for holding the door open for him.

Alec’s studying him closely, gauging his reaction. The place only has four tables, all of them currently unoccupied. It’s really not trendy, just a hole-in-the-wall ice cream parlor that serves homemade ice cream-- the best he’s ever had. The decor is eccentric with jarring patterns and clashing colors. It’s hideous but fun and their flavors match the ambiance.

Magnus looks around for a moment before turning to Alec, who’s just inside the door.

“Well, darling, I have to admit that even when you said mom and pop, I wasn’t expecting a place so hidden away. I’ve probably walked right past this place a dozen times and never given it a second thought. It’s cute, though.” He laughingly grimaces. “In a kitschy sort of way, of course.”

Alec laughs. “Their decorating is a bit of a train wreck, but I love it. It really fits the owners.”

The two of them walk up to the counter and look over the dozen flavors displayed below. Against the back wall there’s a menu with a few other treats-- sundaes, blizzards, milkshakes, and some novelty desserts like frozen chocolate-covered bananas.

There are a few of the classics like vanilla and rocky road, but one reason Alec loves this place is because their offerings can be a little out of the box. There’s a lavender, pistachio rose, and even the ubiquitous chocolate and bacon. Alec shudders just thinking about trying that heinous flavor.

Magnus’s eyes are roving over the shop, looking at the ice cream and the menu, occasionally getting stuck at a newly seen piece of decor, when the door behind the counter swings open to reveal a graying man with two tattoo sleeves, a buzzcut, and a septum piercing.

The man laughs delightedly as he takes in his latest customers.

“If it isn’t Alec. Boy, it’s been too long since you showed your miserable face in these parts.”

Alec laughs as he walks closer to the counter, leaning over it to give the man a bear hug.

“Hey, Marv,” he says, pulling back. “I just got back from work and figured I’d stop by.”

He can feel Magnus’s eyes on his back but doesn’t pull his attention from Marv. There’s a minute of pleasantries before the bell above the front door chimes open and an elderly woman as round as she is tall walks in. She has to be eighty if she’s a day, but she has good bones-- she doesn’t look over sixty-five. She breaks into a smile as she takes in the customer at the register.

“Alec,” she cries and toddles forward. Alec meets her halfway, bending down to return her hug. She only comes up to his chest.

“Anna,” Alec says warmly. “Long time, no see.”

Anna slaps at his arm, playfully, as she glares at him. “A bit more than a long time. It has to be a year since you last graced our place with that handsome face.”

Smiling, Alec just offers, “You know how work is. You put your head down to finish a project and before you know it, it’s been months and you’re just catching up to real life.”

Both Anna and Marv laugh. “We know all about that, son. The first few years we owned this shop, we barely took enough time away to sleep.” He points a gnarled finger at Alec. “Just make sure you don’t run yourself ragged. You have to take time for the important things and fuck knows work isn’t that.”

Alec laughs a little and when he looks up, his eyes meet Magnus’s. Alec’s breath catches, just for a second. He doesn’t know what Magnus is thinking, but Alec can’t help but picture a life in the slower lane, even if it's just for a moment. He won’t ever leave the industry, but it does sound idyllic, imagining coming home from either a long day at the studio or from getting his ass handed to him from corporate execs, and there’s a man waiting for him with a soft kiss and lingering touch.

A man that looks suspiciously like Magnus.

The moment, whatever the hell it was, is broken in a second as Anna turns to Magnus and takes him in. She goes in for a hug and, though obviously surprised, Magnus returns it, smiling at Alec above her head.

She pulls back and pinches his arm, lightly, obviously admiring his muscles.

“Well, I see you brought a fella around, dear. It’s about time. God knows Marv and me have been wondering when you’d settle down with a nice man.”

Alec chokes on nothing.

“Uh, no, Anna. This is Magnus. He’s just a friend.”

Anna walks over to Marv, behind the counter, and they share a look. She throws on an apron and washes her hands before turning back to them.

“Whatever you say, dear.”

She smiles as she says it, but then she winks at Magnus and Alec wishes the ground would swallow him up.

Magnus truly is a friend, and while Alec can’t help but think of what it could be like to have more, he doesn’t want to scare Magnus off before they’ve finished hanging out for the first damn time.

Magnus takes in stride, just raises a brow to Alec before laughing it off. Alec knows it’s stupid, but he feels a little disappointed at Magnus’s obvious brush-off.

He rallies instantaneously and clears his throat. He tilts his head to Magnus, towards the tubs of ice cream, a silent question.

Magnus nods and they walk up to the register. Alec orders a double scoop of cookies n’ cream in a cup while Magnus chooses clementine pomegranate in a cone.

Alec pays, brushing off Magnus’s offer, and sits down at the table nearest the door. It’s in front of the window, a perfect opportunity to people watch as the sun starts to dip in the sky.

There’s a few minutes of silence as they get settled and take the first few tastes of their ice cream.

Finally, Alec can’t take it anymore.

“So, what do you think?”

Magnus takes another lick of his cone, tongue slowly trailing up the side where some had started to melt down, and hums.

Alec feels death.

“It’s delicious, of course. I should have known that you’d be right. This is definitely my new favorite dessert stop.”

Alec blinks a few times, trying to break his focus on Magnus’s mouth.

He grins. “I’m glad you like it. This is one of a kind, that’s for sure.”

“You’ll get no disagreement from me. How did you even hear about this place, darling?”

“I was just strolling through the city one morning, looking for inspiration. I had planned to write all day-- this was during recording for my fourth album-- and I saw this bright blue door tucked into an alley. I was curious, so I checked it out. They’re open twenty-four hours a day, and I just set my songbook on a table and walked up to order. It was fun and I thought that even if I didn’t get anything done for the day, I could enjoy some ice cream. Turns out, Marv and Anna were both working that day and I ended up talking to them for a few hours. They’re a hoot.”

Magnus takes another obscene lick and laughs. “I got that impression, really just from the shop.” He pauses, sucks some ice cream that’s dripped onto his thumb into his mouth.

Alec’s blood rushes south and he starts reciting lyrics from his first album as a distraction.

“Excuse me if I’m wrong, but I get the impression that Marv and Anna don’t know that you’re famous.”

Alec huffs out a laugh, takes a breath. He’s comfortable answering this question.

“They don’t,” he says, bluntly. “I think they think I’m like a Wall Street broker or some shit. They just know I work a lot. Nothing else.”

Magnus studies Alec for a minute and Alec looks down at his ice cream a few seconds in, taking a few large spoonfuls as he waits for a response.

“It must be nice to be anonymous here,” Magnus says softly.

Alec’s gaze shoots up and his eyes bore into Magnus’s for a moment.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m used to being recognized anywhere I go. I like to savor the moments when I can just be, when I’m just one man among a million. It sounds like bullshit I know, but these simple times keep me sane.”

Magnus gets it. It’s only a piece of the bigger puzzle, a little hint at his life, but Magnus understands that his life isn’t completely his own. It’s nice to know there are still people who see Alec as a person.

He’d been running out of hope.

Magnus seems uncharacteristically fidgety for a minute, his hand lingering in the air before returning to the table in a loose fist.

He smiles at Alec.

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Alec immediately nods. “Of course. I know we just met and that we’re new friends, but I hope that we can be friends long-term, Magnus. I like hanging out with you and hope we can do something again.”

Magnus finishes his cone and stands up to throw the last of it in the trash. When he comes back to the table, he’s smiling, softly.

He’s beautiful, Alec thinks.

“I like hanging out with you, too, Alexander. I want to be friends with you. I wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t see something worth pursuing.”

He’s probably grinning stupidly but Alec can’t find it in himself to give a fuck.

“Great. I’m glad we’re on the same page, Magnus.”

It’s quiet, both of them taking in the night, watching people rush by outside, as Alec finishes his own ice cream. This quiet is nice. It’s different than what he’s used to. Alec loves silence when he’s by himself but he’s found that when he’s with other people, there’s a constant need to fill the space. Not by him, but whoever’s he’s with always talks. They can’t just stand still for a moment and enjoy the peace. It’s by turns saddened and pissed him off. These days, it’s just annoying when someone won’t shut up.

He’s glad Magnus can enjoy the quiet, too.

Eventually, they stand up and head out the door, Alec leaving a hundred on the table after Magnus is outside.

He hurries to catch up to him and breathes in the cool air. There’s not quite as many people out now. It’s just Alec and Magnus standing still as people walk past them.

It’s a moment Alec savors, commits to memory. This is the first time he’s been with anyone new in a strictly platonic sense in longer than he cares to remember. It fills his chest with warmth to know that there’s potential here for a real connection, no matter what kind.

His thoughts break off as he hears Magnus clear his throat.

“So, darling, I was thinking we could meet for lunch one day next week. I don’t know what your schedule is like, but I’ll probably be living at the university next week, but I’d still like to make some time to see you again.”

Alec nods, probably more enthusiastically than strictly needed. “Yeah, that sounds great. What day works for you? I’m pretty flexible.”

Magnus’s eyes squint adorably as he thinks. “I have a standing lunch on Mondays and office hours all afternoon Tuesday. What about Wednesday? There’s this little diner on campus with the best burgers.”

“That sounds perfect. I do love a good burger, you know,” Alec says, delighted.

Magnus nods, dryly. “I had heard that, yes. What do you say to meeting there around 1:30? It’s summer, so campus is usually pretty dead. There shouldn’t be a lot of people there who could recognize you.”

Alec nods, gratefully. “That works. Thanks for thinking of that.”

“Of course, darling, goodness knows I don’t want to be responsible for a riot on Columbia’s grounds. Think of my reputation, after all,” he says with a joking grin.

“Right,” Alec rolls his eyes. “You’re just protecting yourself.”

There’s a beat of silence. This is usually the part where, if this was a date, Alec would lean in and kiss him. This isn’t a date, though, and Alec is at a loss. Thankfully, Magnus steps up.

“I had a wonderful time, Alec, but I need to be heading home. I have that dreaded 8 a.m. class in the morning and I need my beauty sleep if I’m to be presentable for my students. Goodnight, darling.”

Magnus takes a step backward, winking.

“See you, Wednesday.”

Alec nods, unspeaking, and Magnus turns around and heads down the street. He looks relaxed and confident and Alec notices a few heads turn as he passes a few people, street lights showing both men and women taking a second look.

Alec sympathizes.

Alec stands for a moment, letting the last few hours play over in his mind before he turns around and starts heading towards the subway station.

It’s been an exciting day but he’s ready to head home and crash.

He only hopes Simon is already asleep. He doesn’t want to be confronted with an endless string of questions, no matter how well-intentioned.

This thing-- this friendship-- with Magnus is so new and so are the feelings it’s dredging up. Alec wants to sit on tonight for a while. It feels so fragile. It’s just his, no one else's. He doesn’t think he wants anyone else to know about it yet.

It’s just him and Magnus for now, in a little bubble.

Alec smiles, content at the image.

He walks quietly down the block, minding his own business.

He doesn’t hear the flash of a camera down the block, doesn’t feel the eyes following him from the ice cream parlor.

#this behemoth is over 5k and httbt is officially over 100 pages!!!#and we just got to their first proper hang out #I hope you guys like this!!#I think I procrastinated a little writing this because I was so nervous of messing it up lol #anyway #happy reading #my writing #httbt #if y'all see typos you're honor bound to tell me btw!!!

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aliceinthewritingrepublic · 6 years

Text

The Spiral on the Edge - VI

Story Title: The Spiral on the Edge

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Reader

Rating: MA

Story Tag: tsote

When you see an attractive stranger while partying, you decide that it has been too long since you’ve had an adventure. The exact terms of your loose liaison are soon put to the test.

Word Count: 2693

Without you asking him to, Katsuki had made room in his life for you. You were not sure whether he had done so intentionally or whether he had even noticed himself doing so – but it was undebatable that you were now a constant in the formula of his everyday life.

From your toiletries in the bathroom to the ever-respawning bottle of your favorite soda in the refrigerator, you had, for all intents and purposes, become the fourth teammate in the guys’ three-men living arrangement.

Today was not the first time you had taken part in mundane activities such as buying groceries, but for the first time, it was only Eijirou and you who were doing so together. And, going against all odds and all of your worries, it was not awkward at all.

“So, we got coffee, milk, bread and bottled water. We still need detergent and hand soap,” you recited, reading off the shopping list you had prepared on your phone.

“Hand soap? We never have hand soap,” Eijirou answered with surprising certainty, turning the shopping cart and heading down the aisle towards household necessities, you following closely behind him.

“Yeah, and I worry about what that says about your relationship with hygiene.” Their apartment was fairly clean, especially in the light of their being three male (barely-still-)teenagers, but you (rightly) attributed that to Katsuki’s neatness more than anything.

“Alright, alright, we are getting hand soap, new queen of the apartment.” His laugh was contagious.

“You don’t actually mind my being around so much, do you?” You were laughing along with him. Still, for a moment there, you were scared he was going to give you an answer you would not like.

“Not at all! You’re friendly, you clean up more of a mess than you make, and Bakugou’s less grumpy when you’re there. If anyone moves out, I vote it’s him.”

You scoffed. “You don’t actually mean that.”

He grinned his brightest of grins. “I really don’t. He’s kind of my best friend.”

Taking two pink bottles of detergent from the shelves and putting them inside the cart, you added onto your statement. “Besides, once he’s gone, I’m gone.”

“Right,” he said without missing a beat. “I forgot you’re a package deal. It’s still kinda hard to believe Bakugou has a girlfriend.”

The reply you had become used to giving to insinuations such as this one came without the need for you to exceed much thought. “I’m not his girlfriend.”

The noise Eijirou gave instead of saying anything in response said more than enough: Sure, if that’s what you want to believe.

“…and this concludes the perspective I wanted to share with you on the topic of secondary characteristics of less common quirks. Thank you for your attention. If you have any remaining questions, now’s the time to ask.”

While it may have sounded rather professional, that was only the case because you had repeated those sentences to yourself again and again last night until you had known them by heart. It was your first time speaking in front of an audience in years. Before you had been forced to press pause on your university career, you had somehow managed to avoid all seminars that required presentations as part of their grading system. Now, you had intentionally fit several of them into your semester schedule as a challenge to yourself. The first one was done with.

You could feel your heart beating in your tongue and you had stumbled over your words a few times. Your hands were clammy and shaking. But, and this was the most important notion to take away from today – you had survived.

The auditorium was too large for the two dozen people sitting in it. Their lack of further questions was almost certainly not due to your presentational skills but rather due to the general loss of enthusiasm students tended to experience at some point between their first and sixth semester.

After receiving some mostly favorable feedback from your professor, you left the building and headed off campus. You could not wait to tell your not-boyfriend about what you had achieved today.

Speaking of secondary characteristics of uncommon quirks – you had realized early on that Katsuki’s skin was flawless. For a while, you had chalked it up to simple great luck or a kind puberty. It was only after you had participated in several sessions of your aforementioned seminar about uncommon quirks that you had begun to entertain the possibility that those two phenomena might be related.

“So, not only do you get an awesome quirk, but it actually clears up your skin at the same time? That’s so unfair!” you complained from where you were sitting next to him on his bed.

“That’s just how glycerin works, woman.” His smirk let you know that although it was pure luck that he had been able to draw from such a good gene pool, he was at least a little proud of it.

“Still, it’s so not fair. Ten years from now, I’ll probably look twenty years older than I do now, and you’ll still be a walking skincare ad.”

“If that bothers you already, you’ll fucking love my mom. She’s almost fifty and looks like she never fucking turned thirty.”

You could have sworn that your heart stopped for about three and a half seconds right there. It was clear to you he had meant nothing by it. So, you decided to smooth it over by saying something by which you meant nothing at all, either.

“What reason would I have to meet my not-boyfriend’s mother? To congratulate her on her clear skin?”

“You could congratulate her on creating me, a.k.a. the greatest fucking thing that’s ever happened to you.” Considering how arrogant he could be and how dry he kept his voice when saying things like these, it could be difficult to mistake his specific brand of humor for serious statements. You, however, knew better.

Still, for a moment, you were inclined to grab a pillow from his bed and hit him over the head with it. Instead, you let yourself fall backwards so you were lying on the mattress. “Well, I guess you do have a handful of good qualities if I’m squinting. Five, maybe, if I were to count.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. You responded – very maturely – by sticking out your tongue at him. He accepted the unspoken challenge. Less than a moment later, he had you pinned underneath his body, straddling your thighs and holding your wrists above your head with both hands.

“Is fucking you until you can’t walk straight on the list?”

You arched your back, trying to push your breasts against his chest and whining when his grasp on you proved too tight for you to do so. “It’s at the very top,” you promised into his mouth, and then he was kissing you.

You had not had any alcohol since that fateful night at the club.

Letting down your guard around strangers made you feel threatened, so Katsuki and you had gone clubbing less and less, as well. Perhaps it was for the best – you were an adult after all, so maybe you could afford to have a lifestyle befitting one.

You also could not bring yourself to wear the clothes from that night again. So you packed them into a carton, along with some books that reminded you of the people that had gifted them to you and that were no longer part of your life. Then, you donated that box to the charity shop down the road from your home.

It was a shame that Katsuki’s room provided no other seating option for two besides his bed. Or maybe it actually was not that much of a shame, since it was your preferred place to be anyways. He had spent good money on the mattress, and your back agreed with you on the decision to spend as little time as possible at your own apartment. Said apartment was becoming more of a storage space than anything at this point.

What did the two of you even do together with all of those joint hours?

All kinds of things, really. A lot of it was sex, or lead-up to sex, or post-coital coexistence. Any time left over after subtracting those pastimes was just the both of you doing your own thing while coincidentally in the same room. You enjoyed it. You liked occupying the same space as him. You appreciated breathing the same air as him.

In all truth, you could probably spend the rest of your life lying next to him like this and simply looking at him.

He had not got dressed yet, but it was not like he had ever minded being nude. Reading the news on his phone, he was not looking in your direction, allowing you to watch him. You were plenty sure he still knew that you were watching him, however. He was more attentive than he would ever admit out loud, and somehow, he tended to simply know things.

Sometimes, you wondered what he saw in you. It was clear to you why you stuck with him. He was gorgeous, from his spiky blond hair to those red eyes you wanted to drown in, from the scar below his collarbone to his long, muscular legs. But beyond his picturesque body, beyond even the sex that was genuinely the best you had ever had, there was the fact that things were easy with him.

When you had told him about your disorder, you had expected it to be the end of your story. But it had not been. Instead, without wasting a lot of pretty words, he had simply accepted it as fact and moved on. It was what he did for everything you did and shared with him. When you had mentioned that you were going back to university, his response had been, “About time.”

(If he were anyone but himself, it would not have come across even nearly as supportive.)

When you had told him about how well your presentation had gone, he had asked, “What else had you expected?”

(And if he were anyone but himself, it would not have sounded nearly as proud.)

But he must have seen something in you, else he would not have kept you around for this long. You did not know what it was, but you were grateful for it nonetheless.

At this point, it was becoming hard to imagine a life without him.

It had always been hard for you to tell the difference between obsession and love. It was even more so now that Katsuki had made himself at home in the greater scheme of your life. But maybe you had been wrong to assume that you could only ever either be obsessed or in love. Maybe you had been so scared of anything that could at all be interpreted as something akin to a symptom of mania that you had never let yourself consider that one did not work without at least a tiny bit of the other.

After all, what was love if not a mild form of insanity?

The fancy-looking cream envelope had been sitting on Katsuki’s desk for weeks now. You had first noticed it when you had sat down there to work on your presentation. It had been in the way, and you had put it to the side without giving it much thought.

The next day, it had been right back in its former place, as if it had never been moved. Still, you gave it little to no thought.

A few days later, you were packing your bag, getting ready to go back to your own place for the first time in a week. (The mail did not check itself.) You set it on the desk chair while you were folding your worn clothes. (Perhaps, a load of laundry would also prove commendable.)

In doing so, you accidentally knocked over the folded card that was sitting upright on the desk, the surrounding envelope now gone. You set it back up, automatically reading the beginning of the first sentence. ‘You are cordially invited to…’

Then you stopped, a little annoyed that you had read anything at all. It was not your invitation, and thus none of your business. You made sure it looked untouched, finished packing and left.

A little while later, you found yourself in a hurry to arrive at university on time. The mornings were becoming colder, and, as these things with indirect proportionality tend to work, Katsuki’s bed was becoming harder to leave with each passing day. While you ran into the stairway with your hair yet unbrushed, your note pad lay on the desk, forgotten about.

It was a long day, which made your lack of note paper all the more jarring. When you came back to Katsuki’s that evening, your note pad was waiting for you. With the fancy invitation somehow having found its way on top of it. It became clear that these were not coincidences at all.

‘You are cordially invited to the 27th annual Heroes’ Gala to celebrate the strides our society has made since the advent of quirks and heroism. We will be accepting donations, all of which are to go into the Official Hero Registry’s fund to compensate and support civilians who have been hurt or who have experienced damage at the hands of villains. Please let us know whether you will be in attendance, and whether you will have someone joining you.’

Beneath the text, there was further information on the date, place and exact time.

You had not even taken your coat off yet, and you did not. Instead, you turned on your heel, walking towards the kitchen with the omnipresent invitation still in your hand.

Inside the kitchen, there was Katsuki in front of the stove, finishing dinner. (He liked to cook. You enjoyed your position as a beneficiary.) He did not even jump a little when you poked his lower back with the card – it seemed he had become so used to your presence that hardly anything surprised him anymore.

Without further greeting, you launched straight into the topic at hand. “So, where am I gonna find this next? Inside the closet, conveniently stored between my underwear?” You were trying hard not to sound as amused as you were. He was so bad at these things, and you loved him for it. It was getting harder not to think that word, love.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” was his reply, was his lie, because he could see the piece of paper in your hand and because he obviously knew what you were talking about.

“I’m talking about this charity gala thing. What is it?”

“It’s stupid, is what it is.” He was refusing to look at you, instead stirring the vegetables inside the pan with a lot more gusto than necessary. “It’s this shitty important hero bullshit. It’s dumb as hell.”

“And also, you really want to go there,” you added, voicing out loud what he was incapable of saying.

A lack of reply was also a reply.

After a moment of silence, you continued. “You know, I’m just gonna put this out there. If you want me to go with you, you might just have to actually ask me.”

As the seconds passed, the distance between you did not change, but your perception of it did. Eventually, you were unable to take both the silence and the distance, so you had to get rid of at least one of them. You stepped behind him, wrapping your arms around his slim waist and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He smelled like frying oil and sweat and all-around perfect. The heat from the stove reminded you that you were still wearing your coat. It did not matter.

What mattered was that after a much-too-long silence for a simple question such as this one, he asked, “Would you?”

You had had your fair share of hesitation for one night. For one lifetime. “I would.”

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soybeanprophecy · 5 years

Text

eighteen

Summary: Uraraka knew what people said about turning 25. A quarter of a century. It was an important turning point, and she just knew (oh she knew) it was going to be a long, hard year. A year with sharp twists and turns. And changes. Tons of changes. Starting with: her longtime crush on Deku.

Notes: hello, this is another todochako fic. it seems that i am incapable of not writing a longass oneshot fic so here’s another one, sorry! okay, before you start, please let me give you a warning. THIS FIC IS SUPER GROSS. LIKE, SUPER CHEESY. IT COULD LITERALLY BE A ROM-COM I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE IT. so if you're willing to possibly get diabetes or hyperglycemia from the amount of sugar in this fic, please read ahead. otherwise, caution. also, i can’t write a fic without deku being literally the bestest friend in the world why is he so amazing i love him hahaha. (i love u deku! <3) anyway, last time, todoroki was the one struggling with understanding his feelings, so i thought i’d write one with uraraka having a hard time instead. i hope y'all enjoy this lame, gross fic LOL.

(the title comes literally from the song, 18, by One Direction. can you believe that? it makes this fic more gross.)

anyway, if you made it pass the intro and you haven’t thrown up, please enjoy. i do not own my hero academia.

Uraraka pressed a hand to her cheek, basking in the warmth seeping through the mittens as she surveyed the snowy street around her. She exhaled, watching a cloud of her breath appear in front of her.

Her phone pinged.

(11:47 AM) Todoroki Shouto: one year closer to death.

(11:47 AM) Todoroki Shouto: exciting.

(11:48 AM) Todoroki Shouto: happy birthday, Ochako.

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head at Todoroki’s deadpan humor. After all these years, he hadn’t changed one bit.

Her smile faded as she stared at the screen.

She turned 25 today.

It had been 10 years since she had first attended U.A. Highschool, since she had met her fellow heroes and friends and rivals and—

—10 years since she’d met Deku.

In the last 10 years, they had made little to no progress. It was silly, really, how long she’d had this stupid crush on him. She used to always tell herself that she still had time. That the timing was the issue. But after 10 years? She didn’t know if she could wait—if she even wanted to anymore.

In the beginning, it had been “like at first sight.” He was strangely attractive, with messy green hair and matching viridian eyes and a smile so wide she had thought he would split his mouth open. There was something magnetic about Deku—a naïve curiosity and an admirable vulnerability supported by an immense underlying spark of power and a golden heart of genuine desire to be a hero.

And like everyone else, she was drawn to him. For a moment, she was even sure that he had felt the same way.

But then the league of villains attacked, and reality crashed through—there was no time to think about trivial things like romantic relationships. Uraraka focused on being a hero, pushing her feelings away until it was time to confront them.

However, over the years, there was inexplicable distance that formed between them. A gap that couldn’t be closed no matter how hard she tried. It always just felt like he was rising so fast she could barely keep up. Ever since the all-out brawl with Shigaraki Tomura and the league of villains, he had risen and continued to rise until he reached the top.

It wasn’t that Deku was cold—he was still as warm and friendly as ever. He was still one of her best friends, after all. But he seemed so focused on something else, something far beyond her reach.

Plus, he was so busy all the time with hero-work. Being the best hero was a lifestyle, she knew. She didn’t even spend much time with him anymore. Todoroki had beaten him out as her closest friend a few years ago, despite the two of them being the least acquainted within their friend group in high-school.

Most of her classmates had also mellowed out in recent years, choosing to follow other passions instead of trying to keep up with Deku. Only Bakugou could really keep up with him, and even that relationship had formed into a strange sort of partnership rather than a rivalry.

Interestingly, Todoroki had chosen his own path, separate from aiming for greatest hero. He had broken off the triangle rivalry with Deku and Bakugou a few years ago, finding for himself what he wanted to do. It had taken years for him to break away from his father’s iron grip (but Uraraka guessed that it was mostly psychological because Endeavor had begun his redemption ever since their second year of high-school and had given Todoroki much more freedom by then) and he’d finally found where he wanted to be.

Todoroki was currently in training to be a teacher. He had told her that he felt robbed of his dreams and identity ever since he was young, simply because he didn’t have a good mentor (read: father). He had mentioned All-Might as his idol, but in a different way than the way Deku and Bakugou viewed him.

He wanted to teach students and inspire them the way All-Might had. The fire that All-Might sparked in Deku and Bakugou—the guidance and the heart and soul that he embodied—that was what he wanted to do: raise a new generation of heroes that loved being a hero as much as All-Might and Deku did.

Uraraka felt a smile play at the corner of her mouth. Todoroki had grown so much over the years—he used to be so frigid and stiff. But just like ice melts on a warm day, his frozen shell had thawed out throughout the course of their friendship.

She giggled to herself, thinking of who Todoroki really was when he showed his true self. He was passionate, kind, and compassionate. And funny. He was incredibly funny when he wanted to be, even though he would never think he was. He could make her keel over in laughter the fastest out of any of her friends.

Uraraka adjusted her scarf and buried her face in the soft cotton material, hiding her frozen face from the cold wind. She was thankful for Todoroki’s quiet presence in her life, even though the start of their friendship was rather strange.

When she had first been struggling with burying her feelings for Deku, Todoroki had approached her and pointed it out in his straightforward way. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back that day, because she had burst and spilled out all her feelings to Todoroki in the weirdest heart-to-heart session that she’d ever had in her life.

But he was so kind (even though she could tell he was definitely uncomfortable) and he had offered to be there for her if she needed to process her feelings again. And slowly, they’d built a strong, long-lasting friendship, and there was no one else in the world she trusted more than Todoroki.

Uraraka felt someone poke her cheek through her scarf, and she turned to greet the newcomer with a mildly irritated scowl.

“Sorry I’m late,” Todoroki greeted flatly, a teasing glint in his eye. “How does it feel to be halfway to thirty already?”

She sent him a scathing glare, punching him in the shoulder. “Shut up,” she responded with the meanest look she could muster. “You’re a baby compared to me.”

Todoroki shrugged lightly. “Whatever you say, grandma,” he replied, turning to enter the café.

Uraraka stuck her tongue out at his back, before following him to their usual table near the window. “How are the job offers coming along?” She asked, sliding off her coat to hang on the back of her chair.

“I’m still considering between a few,” he said, holding up two fingers at the waitress at the counter, who nodded in response. “U.A. is an option, but I’m still not completely sure yet…” he trailed off.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to be back at U.A., though?” she questioned, sighing nostalgically.

Todoroki stared at the table, looking conflicted. “Shiketsu High School also offered me a job,” he said slowly.

“That’s amazing!” Uraraka cheered enthusiastically. “Shiketsu has gotten really good! It would be incredible if you could teach there.”

He didn’t respond right away, still staring down at the table. “It’s a great opportunity and exactly what I want, but…”

She met his eyes, finally realizing what he was conflicted about. “But it’s really far away,” she finished.

Todoroki nodded hesitantly.

Uraraka placed her hand on his, offering him an encouraging smile. “It’s what you want,” she said kindly. “I’ll miss you like crazy, but you should follow your dream, Shouto.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “Yeah, I guess…” Todoroki answered after a beat. “I’ll think about it.”

The waitress placed a caramel frappuccino in front of her and handed Todoroki his dark bean espresso. “Happy birthday, Uraraka-san!” She presented her with a small tiramisu cake with a single candle lit on top.

“Thank you, Ayumi-san!” Uraraka thanked the waitress shyly, waving at her as she left. She turned to look at Todoroki suspiciously. “We’re regulars here, but she definitely doesn’t know my birthday.”

Todoroki shrugged nonchalantly.

Uraraka sent him a fond look. “You really didn’t have to, Shouto.”

He gave her a small smile in return. “Happy birthday, Ochako.”

Shaking her head at his kindheartedness, she took a bite of the cake. It was delicious—tiramisu was her favorite. He was ridiculous, but it sent a warm tingle down her spine anyway.

Todoroki really didn’t have to do anything special for her birthday, since he’d already gotten her a gift for Christmas. (It wasn’t her fault that her birthday was so close to Christmas.) But every year, even though they always celebrated both occasions together, Todoroki always made sure to surprise her with something nice for both events.

“Midoriya wanted me to tell you ‘happy birthday’ from him,” Todoroki spoke up, a neutral look sitting carefully on his face.

Disappointment filled her.

Of course.

Deku was always busy during the holidays—and naturally, that meant he was always busy during her birthday.

And suddenly, she was reminded of what she had been pondering over earlier.

“Hey, Shouto?” She pursed her lips.

He made a noise of acknowledgement, “Hm?”

“Do you think it’s been too long?” Uraraka asked softly. “Maybe it’s finally time to tell him how I feel.”

A strange look flitted over his face, but it was gone as soon as it came. Todoroki nodded, taking a sip of his espresso. “Maybe,” he replied evenly.

Uraraka stared at her cup, feeling anxious and mildly discouraged. “I just think that it’s been too long. But Deku means a lot to me—I’d never want to lose him as a friend,” she explained. “I’m so scared that he’ll hate me.”

The edges in Todoroki’s eyes softened, and he leaned in to make eye contact with her. “That would never happen,” he said, gently. “Midoriya cares about you too much. It will be okay.”

Her mouth twisted up in a nervous half-smile. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said, feeling a little better at his words. She had been avoiding this moment for 10 years. But it was time to finally confront her feelings for Deku.

Could she do it?

Uraraka sighed, swirling her frappuccino wistfully. It was going to be a long year.

Happy 25th birthday, Ochako, she thought dejectedly.

Uraraka wrung her hands nervously, grabbing her keys and exiting the front door to her apartment. As she locked her door, she felt the chilly air brush her nose before immediately reaching up to cover her face with her scarf.

It was March already, but it was still freezing. The snow hadn’t melted yet, and it was going to be awhile before spring crept in.

She’d been busy the past couple of months. She had decided to join the hero rescue squad a few years ago, where she’d realized that her quirk was invaluable within rescue operations. Uraraka loved the exhilaration of saving people that needed help, and she was happy that she’d found a job where she felt that she could be the best version of herself in.

Unfortunately, the winter season was usually chock full of disasters, since it was cold and dry and the weather was horrible. She’d been called to three blizzard rescue missions in the last two weeks.

The central park was coming into view, and Uraraka felt her stomach drop. She hadn’t had the time to talk to Deku about anything serious for months, simply because the both of them had been so busy.

But it was finally time to talk about this—whatever this was between them—once and for all. She hadn’t really thought much about what she was going to say, but she knew that there was an urgent need to define their relationship.

“Ochako! Hey!”

Uraraka turned at the sound of her name, and she glimpsed a flash of green before it mauled straight into her, engulfing her with a big hug. She laughed, patting his arm in greeting. “Hey, Deku.”

Midoriya pulled back, grinning widely at her before rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry that it’s been awhile. You know how the holidays can be.”

She smiled at him, shaking her head. “I know. I’ve been busy, too. It’s nice to see you, though.”

“It’s always nice to see you, Ochako!” Midoriya said with cheery enthusiasm. It was definitely nice to see his sunny disposition on such a dreary, dark, winter morning.

They settled down on the park bench in silence. She stole a glance at him, recognizing that she had to say something now.

Ugh. This was the worst. How should she bring this up?

Her fingers drummed nervously inside her woolen mittens, and her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest.

Uraraka swallowed. She could do this.

“Hey...Deku?” She asked hesitantly. “Can I tell you something?”

He shifted to face her fully, an inquisitive look on his face. “Sure. What’s up?”

Uraraka averted her eyes, choosing to stare at the snow-covered ground beside her. Why was this so hard? What was she so afraid of?

Oh, right. That Deku would be weirded out and hate her and never talk to her again. That was definitely the last thing she wanted to happen.

But she’d already made her decision.

“I...I like you, Deku,” she said slowly, her cheeks heating up despite the cold weather. “I have for a long time.”

At first, his face was unreadable. But then: a sigh, and an apologetic, “I know.”

It was weird. She had been so nervous, but now that she’d said it out loud, it didn’t feel so insurmountable anymore. It was strangely...cathartic. Even though she could feel the rejection coming, it wasn’t how she’d thought she would feel. Why wasn’t she more upset?

“Ochako,” Midoriya started, gazing at her with a serious expression. “I—I knew this was going to happen one day, and that we’d have to talk this out. It was weird, I guess, figuring out how I felt about you for these past 10 years.”

He paused.

“I did like you at first, and it was because you were such a great friend and amazing and strong. But then the villains attacked, and so many things happened that I couldn’t even think about how I felt. And somehow, through it all, it just wasn’t like that anymore,” he said, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket. “You’re so important to me, and I really love you, but it’s grown into something different.”

Uraraka was felt a strange sense of relief flood her. This was so weird. She thought she’d be crying, or distraught, or at least, a little upset. Sure, she was sad that this didn’t work out the way she’d always thought it would, but it was less disappointing than she had thought it would be.

“I’ve known for a while now,” Midoriya said, his head tilted up toward the darkened sky. “I had become more objective about our relationship because I had moved forward, and after that, I immediately guessed how you felt. I didn’t say anything because understanding your feelings takes time, and I knew you would get there on your own.”

She laughed, feeling oddly freer than she had in years. “You know me too well, Deku.”

Midoriya cracked a smile. “Yeah, I do.”

“I was so scared that you’d hate me,” she said breezily, swinging her legs underneath the bench. “I don’t know why, but that was the thing that scared me the most.”

He patted her shoulder lightly, his smile growing wider. “You know that would never happen. I care about you too much.”

“That’s what Shouto said, too,” she giggled. “He knows you too well.”

There was a weird expression that crossed Midoriya’s face—only for an instant—but was it guilt? Remorse? She couldn’t tell. “He was right,” he recovered, only a hint of contrition visible in his smile. “He’s too good to us.”

“Yeah,” Uraraka agreed. For some reason, the atmosphere between them was different, now. Before, there was some unresolved tension always waiting in the shadows, keeping her from feeling completely comfortable. Maybe it even kept her from completely being herself. But now, the tension was gone, and she was so happy that it just felt normal. She felt like she could share whatever she wanted.

“Whenever I was sad about you, Shouto would cheer me up with a carton of cookie dough ice-cream. He would show up at my apartment with this huge pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a really cheesy chick-flick, but it was so funny because at the end of the night I wasn’t ever crying because of the movie—I was crying of laughter. It was the funniest thing, watching him try to figure out the romance in the movie. He didn’t ever understand what was happening!” Uraraka laughed at the memory. “One time, we were watching Titanic, and Shouto just kept asking why Rose said, ‘Draw me like one of your French girls’ and why it was romantic because he thought it made no sense. And when Jack died at the end, Shouto told me that they could’ve fit a man, a woman, and three ducks on that raft with them! I think a little piece of me died that night.”

Midoriya snorted in laughter, clutching his stomach. “Geez, that sounds like him,” he wheezed, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Yeah,” Uraraka said happily, feeling lighter in her chest. She would’ve normally felt weird sharing with Deku how vulnerable she used to feel about him, but it felt okay now. “This is nice,” she shared, smiling. “Thank you for accepting me.”

He beamed and reached over to embrace her again. “Of course, Ochako. You’re one of my best friends.”

As she leaned into his hug, Uraraka smiled at his words. They would always be friends, no matter what. This was the weirdest experience she’d ever had, and although it was unexpected, she was happy with the result.

As she headed back to her house, Uraraka typed a quick message to Shouto to let him know she was okay.

(9:54 AM) Todoroki Shouto: tell me how it goes.

(10:22 AM) Uraraka Ochako: it actually went really well. :)

Uraraka smiled to herself.

She finally let something go today. And it was okay.

Uraraka sat at the usual table at the café, taking a small sip of her caramel frappuccino as she sighed longingly.

It was already May, and work had been so crazy in the last month that she hadn’t had any time to spend with friends, family, or even just for herself. At the very least, she was glad that the weather was finally changing: the snow had almost all melted and the flowers were starting to peek out from underneath the hardened winter soil.

She was happy to just be spending well overdue time with Todoroki—he seemed busy lately, as well. He had been distant in the last month, but she knew that he had a lot going on with job offers and whatnot. She hadn’t even caught him up on what happened with Deku in March yet.

Uraraka pursed her lips, staring at her reflection in the window. She missed her best friend.

“Hey.”

She looked up immediately, jumping out of her seat as Todoroki slipped off his jacket to hang on the back of his chair. She embraced him quickly, excited to see him after not seeing him for a month.

“We’re both so busy,” Uraraka complained, sitting back down in her chair. “I really miss you.”

Todoroki’s lips quirked up, his heterochromatic eyes surveying her fondly as he took his seat. “Yeah, me too.”

“We have so much to catch up on!” She expressed eagerly. “I have so much to tell you! Where do I even start? I guess I’ll start with Deku. So remember when we talked? It went really well and I’m actually super happy—”

His phone beeped loudly.

Todoroki checked his phone, a frown slowly forming on his face.

“—Shouto?” she questioned, cocking her head to the side.

He looked frustrated, but it quickly melted into a neutral expression. “I actually have to go soon,” he replied impassively. “I’m going on a...date tonight.”

Uraraka looked at him in shock. What? Since when did Todoroki go on dates?

“With Yaoyorozu,” he clarified.

A weird feeling settled into her stomach.

“Oh,” she responded. Why did she suddenly feel so uneasy?

“Sorry,” Todoroki looked apologetic. “She wanted to meet earlier than I thought.”

“No, it’s okay,” Uraraka said, forcing herself to smile encouragingly. “I—Have fun!”

He slipped on his jacket, standing up to leave. “Thank you,” he added, leaning closer to her. “I will make this up to you.”

As she watched Todoroki exit the café, Uraraka tried to process the information that she had just received. It was a strange feeling—was she disappointed? She guessed that it was kind of weird, because Todoroki hadn’t even mentioned dating or even liking girls in the past 10 years that they’d known each other.

And now, he was suddenly dating? She furrowed her brows, trying to push away the feelings of disappointment. She should be happy that he was finally dating. Todoroki was a great guy.

It was weird, though. She and Momo hadn’t been super close in a few years, though they were still decent friends. But Momo was close with Asui, and Uraraka had heard some things from her about Momo having a thing with someone else. Maybe it was over? She didn’t know.

Uraraka sighed, getting up to stretch her neck. There was no point worrying about this. Why was she bugging out about it anyway? This was Todoroki she was talking about. Her best friend.

It was probably just that small part of her that was afraid that Todoroki would stop being her best friend if he dated someone else. That his priorities would naturally start to shift, and they’d have to stop being so close.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. That would never happen. There was no reason to worry about this.

But as she left the café, she couldn’t help but wonder: why did she still feel so uneasy?

It was almost July already, and Uraraka was glad that it was approaching the height of summer. She loved the long, sunny days, and the cool, refreshing swimming trips. And ice-cream! Her favorite.

She licked a spoonful of cookie dough ice-cream off of her spoon, relishing in the sweetness.

“This is so good!” Midoriya exclaimed, gesturing to his pistachio ice cream cone. “You chose a good place.”

Uraraka watched as he took a few, tentative licks of his ice-cream, laughing at the way his face twisted in surprised pleasure.

Her heart swelled in happiness. This was nice: just spending time with Deku without constantly worrying about how he felt. The love she felt for him was different now—it had morphed into something else, where she truly appreciated him for just being him. She knew she would always love Deku, but she wasn’t in love with Deku.

Sometimes, when she reflected on their relationship, Uraraka recognized that she had been idealizing Deku in her head for all these years. He was amazing and wonderful, yes, but she was probably more in love with the idea of Deku than with who he really was. It was weird—how much a crush could mess with your head.

And Uraraka realized something important: she hadn’t thought much about what Deku wanted. It was obvious now, after finally moving on from that chapter of her life, that Deku wasn’t planning on marrying. If anything, he was married to something—his job. To Deku, being the greatest hero that he could be was the most important thing in his life.

She should’ve seen it coming, honestly. All Might was his biggest idol (as in Deku literally wanted to become All Might) and All Might never married throughout his pro hero career. To be fair, being the number one hero didn’t exactly include a lot of time for dating.

But Uraraka respected that about Deku: his motivation, his drive, and his genuine love for creating peace for others. Maybe someday, he would meet someone at the right time. But for now, being a hero was his first priority.

She smiled. She had her own goals and desires, and sometimes, people were just incompatible. And it was okay. Deku was the greatest friend she could ask for, anyway. That was enough for her.

“Hey, Ochako?” Midoriya’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“Huh?” She responded.

“As nice as it is to see you more often,” He stated, raising his eyebrows at her. “Shouto told me that you’ve been avoiding him lately. Is that why you’re always hanging out with me?”

Uraraka laughed, but it sounded awkward. “What?” She asked, averting her eyes from Midoriya’s questioning stare. “Why would I be avoiding him?”

Midoriya just raised his eyebrows higher.

“What, I can’t spend more time with you?” Uraraka inquired indignantly. She ate a large spoonful of ice-cream, wincing at the mild brain freeze that jolted through her head. “He’s probably busy, anyway. He’s dating Momo now.”

Midoriya looked confused for a moment. “Hm,” he replied, a pensive look on his face.

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to look nonchalant. “Maybe he didn’t tell you. He went on a date with her about a month ago.” Uraraka scraped her cup for the last scoop of ice-cream. “It’s kind of weird that he’s dating now, I guess.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “He’s never shown any interest in anyone. He’s never even talked about girls once in the 10 years that I’ve known him.”

That weird guilty look flashed across Midoriya’s face again. “Yeah,” he said, with a strangely thoughtful expression.

Uraraka ate her last scoop and hopped out of her chair eagerly. “Well, I’m done,” she declared, gesturing to her empty cup. “Let’s head out soon. It’s getting late.”

Midoriya’s eyes refocused on her. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he answered, getting up as well.

As they left the ice-cream shop, Midoriya turned to her. “Maybe this is good for him,” he said. “It’s been a long time. He deserves happiness.”

The words left her feeling a little hollow.

“Yeah,” she said. Deku was right.

Todoroki deserved happiness.

Right?

“Ahhh, it’s been so hot lately!” Uraraka complained as she sprawled at on the couch, fanning herself frantically.

“It is the peak of summer,” Tsuyu pointed out, switching the fan’s setting to ‘High’. It was nearing the end of August, and the weather was sweltering hot.

Uraraka loved summer, but she didn’t love feeling like she was being cooked alive. Sometimes, she wished she had Todoroki’s ability to control his body temperature. Lucky.

“Geez, Asui,” she frowned. “Even your apartment is a billion degrees! I thought it was just mine.”

Tsuyu rolled her eyes at her childish exaggerations.

“You know, Deku and I have been doing really well,” Uraraka mused, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I feel really different now. It’s nice,” she sat up, kicking her legs for momentum. “I had really thought I’d never get over him.” She laughed candidly. “It was way easier than I thought it would be. It’s extremely freeing, I have to say.”

Tsuyu smiled encouragingly, tilting her head toward Uraraka. “I’m happy for you, Ochako,” she replied affectionately.

Uraraka’s grin disappeared. “But you know, I’ve been thinking…” she trailed off, laying back down on the cushions. “I don’t know what’s going on with Shouto. I just feel weird whenever I see him now,” she spoke dejectedly. “I don’t know even know why. I mean, we’re best friends.” Letting out a loud sigh, she put her face in her hands. “Why is this even bothering me?”

Tsuyu walked over to sit on the couch’s arm, patting Uraraka’s leg endearingly. “Maybe there’s something you’re not really seeing, and you have to widen your perspective,” she advised prudently.

What did that even mean? It was so vague. “Ugh!” Uraraka buried her head even deeper into her hands, obviously frustrated. “I don’t even know what that means!”

Sighing, Tsuyu moved her gaze to the window. “You’ve liked Izuku for years, Ochako. Sometimes, I feel like you were too blinded by him to see anything else around you,” she said, exasperated. “I don’t know how Todoroki deals with it.” Tsuyu added under her breath.

“What does this have to do with Shouto?” Uraraka asked, bewildered.

“I set him up on that date with Momo,” Tsuyu said, ignoring her question.

Uraraka immediately sat up. “What? Why?” She asked, pinning her best friend with an irritated look. “Why would you do that?”

“He’s going through something right now,” Tsuyu explained calmly. “I thought he needed a push—”

What? Uraraka felt heat burning through her body, anger bubbling in her stomach. “He’s going through something right now?” She emphasized, her voice growing harsh. “Why didn’t he tell me any of this? Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

Uraraka could feel her cheeks flushing in indignation. Why would Asui set him up with someone else? She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t help but feel incredibly annoyed. Didn’t Asui understand how she felt?

Wait.

How did she feel?

Ugh, this was stupid.

Tsuyu sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You wouldn’t understand right now,” she placated slowly. “You’re being ridiculous.”

What? What was Asui even talking about?

The fire returned, spreading through her like wildfire.

“Are you serious? I wouldn’t understand?” Uraraka asked, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I’m ‘being ridiculous’?” She frowned angrily, trying to shake off her inexplicable irritation. “I just don’t understand why you would set him up in the first place! He doesn’t even care about that stuff!”

Uraraka stood up, stalking over to put on her shoes furiously. She needed to clear her head.

This was so stupid. Why did she feel almost...betrayed?

“Ochako—”

“Sorry, Asui,” Uraraka said lowly, eyes trained on the floor. “I need to go.”

She shut the door behind her.

Uraraka weaved a needle through the yarn, letting her thoughts wander as she let her hands loop through the motion continuously. She leaned against the bench, watching the children play on the playground as they laughed and yelled animatedly.

This past week had been tough. She’d gotten into a stupid fight with Asui, and she couldn’t figure out why she was upset. She felt guilty for snapping at her best friend, but she was still feeling anxious and avoidant about the whole situation. It was all just giving her a headache.

“Of course you’d be here.”

Uraraka looked up to see Todoroki standing casually next to her bench, his hands in his jean pockets. She ducked her head, her gaze darting to the ground.

His eyes focused on her hands. “You always knit when you’re upset,” he noted. Todoroki moved to slide into the empty space next to her, nudging her arm softly. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t meet his gaze.

“Hm,” he hummed, turning to observe the playground instead. “That boy in the gray shirt just kicked a squirrel.”

Uraraka immediately raised her head, puzzled at his statement. “What? He did?”

Todoroki looked her in the eye. “No,” he deadpanned.

A giggle escaped her, and she swatted at him. “I hate you,” she claimed, smiling, despite her retort.

Todoroki regarded her with amusement. “You’re smiling again,” he remarked, dismissing her insult.

She rolled her eyes at him, but the smile remained on her face. He always knew how to cheer her up.

“So,” he drawled, squinting against the sunlight, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Uraraka sighed, resuming the motion of fiddling with her knitting needles. “Asui and I got into a fight,” she started. “It was so stupid—I still don’t even know why I got upset. She called me ‘ridiculous’ and she was right. I was being ridiculous.”

He faced her, a sympathetic expression on his face. “I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“I know that, I just—” she stopped, frustrated. “I just have no idea how I feel. I don’t want to apologize before I know why I’m feeling this way.”

“What did you two fight about?”

Uraraka stopped moving her hands, clutching onto the yarn in her lap.

Did she want to talk about it? She hadn’t even collected her thoughts thoroughly yet. It was going to sound like a word-vomit.

But she trusted Todoroki.

She breathed in deeply once, before it all spilled out: “She set you up on a date and made it seem like I didn’t know you and that I wouldn’t understand and there’s probably stuff that you don’t even tell me and she won’t tell me either and it was so frustrating—”

“Ochako,” he said.

“—and then I just got really upset and snapped at her and I feel really bad now and I don’t know why I’m being so ridiculous about it and—”

“Ochako,” he repeated.

“—I guess a part of me is just annoyed that you guys are conspiring against me or something and I know that sounds stupid but maybe you don’t want to be friends with me anymore or something—”

“Ochako,” Todoroki cut off her rambling adamantly, narrowing his eyes at her in concern. “What is this really about?”

For a minute, she didn’t say anything.

Then she looked up at him, unshed tears filling her eyes. “I’m scared, Shouto—I’m scared that you’ll forget me and we won’t be close and you won’t care about me anymore,” she whispered, finally allowing herself to be vulnerable and honest. “I don’t want you to leave—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look directly at him. “I will never leave you, okay? I’ll always be right here.”

Her eyes gazed at him pleadingly. “Really?” she asked softly, and it sounded so defenseless that even he looked mildly distraught.

“Right here,” he affirmed, using the pad of his thumb to gently stroke her cheek. She looked into his mismatched eyes, and something shifted in his expression—it became soft, and tender, and Uraraka was sure she’d never seen that sort of expression in her life.

It was like time had stopped. She unconsciously let her eyes trace the lines on his face, from his scar to his slender nose, from his chiseled jaw to the column of his collarbone.

Had he always been so handsome? She swallowed, but she couldn’t look away.

His eyes darted down to her lips, and she bit them in response. And like in slow motion, his head moved down to meet hers, and—

“One new voicemail. Hey, Ochako! I’ve called you like three times today and I’m really worried about you. Can you please pick up? Oh, by the way, I found a really great ice cream place that I want to take you to next time, since you took me last time! Anyway, please call me back. Bye!”

Todoroki jerked back like he’d been burned, leaning back onto the bench and turning away from her.

Uraraka numbly reached for her phone, still in a state of shock at what just transpired a few seconds ago. Her cellphone still had that stupid voicemail option that those old home-phones did, repeating the message aloud when the owner didn’t pick up.

“I have to go.”

She glanced at him, noticing that Todoroki’s face had closed up into an icy expression. Her heart twisted faintly.

He stood, casting her a neutral look, and said, “I’ll see you later.” Then he was gone.

Uraraka stared into the distance, emptiness filling her heart.

Fiddling with the straw of her milkshake, Uraraka stared at her drink vaguely, her thoughts filled with what happened with Todoroki back in August. It was October already, but she was still disoriented with how she felt about the whole situation.

He was going to...kiss her that day. And she found herself liking the idea. Really liking the idea.

What was going on?

It really made her think about how she felt about Todoroki. He was...different. She had always felt that she had to be a certain way with Deku, but she was completely herself with Todoroki. He was caring, compassionate, and one of the best people she knew. He was always there for her—through thick and thin, ups and downs—and she was starting to realize that she’d taken him for granted.

But she couldn’t allow herself to figure out how she felt. He had Momo now.

“Ochako?” Midoriya called, and Uraraka snapped out of her thoughts, realizing that he must’ve noticed her unfocused demeanor.

“Sorry, Deku,” she answered sheepishly. “I’ve just been out of it lately.”

He observed her suspiciously. “I know something happened between you and Shouto,” he declared, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve knitted 3 sweaters, 2 pairs of mittens, and a scarf in the last month. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Uraraka sighed, rubbing her face in exhaustion and mild embarrassment. She knitted a lot when she was upset, okay? Ugh. She might as well get this out. “Fine. I was telling him about my fight with Asui, and he comforted me like he always does,” she recalled hesitantly. “And I don’t know if it was the heat of the moment, or maybe I’m imagining the whole thing, but he—he leaned over to kiss me, and—”

She stopped.

“And?” Midoriya asked, practically bouncing off of his chair in barely concealed excitement.

“And you called, you idiot!” Uraraka socked him in the arm, rounding on him with an irritated frown on her face.

Midoriya looked bewildered. “Oh—I’m so sorry,” he apologized frantically.

She waved an arm at him weakly. “It’s fine,” she assured him. “You stopped it from happening, which was a good thing. He...has Momo, now. It was definitely a mistake,” she continued, despite the sinking feeling in her heart. “It’s better that it didn’t happen at all.”

He seemed confused, yet again, by her explanation. Midoriya’s brow furrowed, seemingly internally conflicted, almost as if he didn’t believe her words.

“How do you feel about him?” he finally asked.

Uraraka looked puzzled. Did it matter? “Why does it matter?” she countered. “He’s with someone else now—it really doesn’t matter how I feel, not that I really know, and—”

“Ochako,” Midoriya interrupted firmly. “How do you feel about Shouto?”

She froze. It was the one question she didn’t want to answer. She was confused, she really was, but she knew that deep in her heart, she knew that she was more scared. Scared of her answer. Scared that if she finally answered that question, she couldn’t deny it anymore.

Uraraka inhaled, shutting her eyes briefly. All she could think about was how Todoroki scrunched his eyebrows when he was baffled, how he appeared so peaceful and carefree when he was asleep, and how happy he looked when he smiled. How he used to feed and play with the wild cats on the street when he thought no one was looking. How he always pretended he was hungry when he noticed that she hadn’t eaten in hours and was struggling with money, and nonchalantly offered her most of his food to preserve her dignity.

And suddenly, she knew exactly how she felt.

“Oh my God,” she realized, opening her eyes. “I love Shouto.”

Midoriya nodded encouragingly, a cheshire grin attached to his face. “You want to know what I think, Ochako?” he replied, a genuine smile taking over. “I think that you’ve felt this way for long time, but you were too focused on me to realize.”

“I—Oh my God,” she repeated, burying her head in her hands. “How did this happen? I can’t believe this!”

He laughed good-naturedly at her obvious distress. “I’m happy for you guys.”

Uraraka lifted her head, glaring at him through her fingers. “This is all your fault. Ugh, how could I let this happen? Shouto, of all people.”

Her best friend. Was she just stupid? Abruptly, she remembered the reality of the situation, and her stomach dropped again. It was too late to realize this. It was all too late.

Midoriya seemed to notice her swift change of mood, his features taking on an expression of concern. “Hey, Ochako?”

Why did it hurt so much? The pain spread through her chest and into her throat, and she choked. It was harder to swallow now, and the heartache was hitting her all at once.

Uraraka gripped her head, willing the ache to subside. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And now that the floodgates had opened, she couldn’t control the onslaught of feelings washing over her.

Maybe she’d subconsciously suppressed more than she had thought.

Midoriya was alarmed, squeezing her arm gently. “Ochako! Hey, are you okay?”

“Deku,” she responded, breathing deeply to calm herself. “It’s just—it hurts. That I was too stupid to realize this sooner. That it’s too late now.”

He wore a kind smile instantly, patting her arm in reassurance and comfort. “It’s never too late. It’s gonna be okay, alright? Shouto loves you.”

Uraraka lowered her hands, her eyes downcast and her expression despondent. “Yeah, but not in that way,” she mumbled.

There was an odd glint in Midoriya’s eye, and he whispered something under his breath that she couldn’t catch. She raised an eyebrow at him inquisitively.

“Who knows,” he settled on answering, leaning back into his chair. “But you won’t if you never tell him.”

She sent him a withering look at his unfailing optimism. She did not want to tell him. She didn’t even know how to act in front of him anymore.

This was going to ruin their friendship.

“Ugh!” Uraraka put her head in her hands again, leaning her full weight onto the table in front of her. “I hate this. I really do.”

Midoriya’s response was to continue slurping his milkshake.

She glared at him from her position on the table. Jerk. Covering her eyes lightly with her fingers, Uraraka sighed glumly. “I wish I still liked you,” she muttered, upset at the irony. “It was easier.”

Midoriya just laughed.

It was nearing the end of November, and Uraraka was exhausted. Ever since her revelation about her feelings, she had been overworking herself to take her mind off of it. She had been dodging Todoroki left and right, hoping that eventually her feelings would go away and that it would hurt less.

But it didn’t seem like that was going to happen.

And now, as she walked through the brisk, cold air, she lamented to herself. Her boots crunched through the colorful leaves as she surveyed the close-to-barren trees lining the street.

She was turning 26 soon.

Uraraka shook her head lightly at her circumstances. It was laughable, really. She’d started off the year stuck in her feelings for Deku only to realize that she had been in love with Todoroki the entire time.

Was this a joke? Unfortunately not.

She turned the corner, reaching an apartment she was very familiar with. Pressing the doorbell, Uraraka contemplated the irony of this particular year of her life.

“Ochako?” The door swung open and Tsuyu’s face appeared.

Uraraka waved in greeting and Tsuyu moved back to let her in. She took off her shoes and slid into her favorite pair of slippers (frog-themed!) that Tsuyu always left out for her.

After embracing, they had settled onto Tsuyu’s couch for their monthly girls hangout.

Tsuyu handed her a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and Uraraka exhaled in delight, breathing in the scent of warm cocoa.

“Hey, Asui?” Uraraka piped up, settling into the couch cushions.

Tying her hair into two loops, Tsuyu looked at her curiously.

“I—I want to apologize again about the fight we had awhile ago,” Uraraka started, staring into her mug. They had made up not long after that strange encounter with Todoroki, but Uraraka still felt compelled to talk about the fight. There was something nagging her.

Tsuyu waved a hand at her. “It’s okay, Ochako,” she replied with a smile. “I know I made you upset, even if accidentally. I crossed the line.”

“No!” Uraraka protested, looking up from the mug vehemently. “It was me—all me. There really was no reason for me to upset. I—I was having trouble accepting my feelings.”

Tsuyu cocked her head inquisitively. “Your feelings?”

Wincing, Uraraka looked back down into her mug again, taking comfort in watching the dark liquid. It was still hard for her to admit it out loud, despite her revelation with Deku a month ago. She took a deep breath. “I’m in love with Shouto.”

At first, Tsuyu just looked confused, her brows scrunched up. Then, her jaw dropped and she began laughing—actually, more like guffawing, Uraraka thought begrudgingly. “Oh my—my,” Tsuyu choked out in between laughter. “This is rich. It really is rich! Kero, kero!”

Uraraka puffed out her cheeks angrily. Even her old catchphrase was popping out? Tsuyu must find this hilarious, she thought, dismayed. “Why are you laughing at me?” she demanded, fed up.

“Ochako,” Tsuyu said, pausing to take a deep breath to calm herself. “I’ve known this for—hm, I don’t know—forever?”

Uraraka was taken aback. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” Tsuyu retorted, her tongue sticking out. “How long do you think we’ve been best friends? I know you better than yourself. I didn’t think you were going to realize it ever, at this rate. That’s why I set him on that date with Momo.”

At that sudden reminder, Uraraka felt the ache creeping back. “Wow, I really am stupid,” she muttered, her eyes downcast. “I needed him to fall in love with someone else to realize how I felt. And now it’s too late.”

There was genuine bewilderment on Tsuyu’s face, but Uraraka was too busy staring at the floor to notice.

“Hm,” was Tsuyu’s only response.

Uraraka swallowed harshly. “It’s my own fault. He deserves someone like Momo, anyway. I’ll be fine. I’ll get over it.”

Tsuyu studied her carefully. “Are you going to tell him?”

“No!” Uraraka jerked back, looking flushed and panicked. “That would forever ruin our friendship, and he doesn’t ever to need to know. Unrequited love is unrequited.”

Tsuyu rolled her eyes heavenward. “Okay, let’s think about this a different way. You told Izuku and your friendship is fine,” she suggested.

There was a pause as Uraraka considered her options. Hmm...she hadn’t thought about that. Maybe it would happen the same way. She could confess, and feel as free as she did with Deku. “That’s true,” she contemplated thoughtfully. “Plus, I moved on from Deku pretty quickly after that. Maybe all I need is to confess and that’s the key to moving on!”

Uraraka pictured that scenario, closing her eyes and thinking of Todoroki’s face. She pictured confessing the same way she did with Deku, and his imminent rejection, and—

“I—” She gasped painfully, slowly opening her eyes. “—I can’t.”

Tsuyu looked alarmed, standing up quickly. “Ochako?”

Uraraka squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the painful feeling washing over her chest. “I can’t. I just can’t,” she stuttered brokenly. “It’s just—just not the same. With Deku, I was scared that he’d hate me and never want to be friends with me again. But with Shouto, I—I don’t think I could take it. I think it would break my heart.”

“Oh, Ochako,” Tsuyu moved to comfort her, cradling her in her arms as she cried.

“Asui,” Uraraka sobbed, clutching her best friend’s shirt. “What am I going to do?”

“Shh,” Tsuyu whispered, stroking her hair lightly. “It’ll be okay.” And Uraraka was so grateful—she had the bestest friend in the world.

They stayed like that for the rest of the night until Uraraka cried her heart out.

It was December 25th.

Uraraka sighed, adjusting her Santa hat. This majorly sucked. She usually spent Christmas with Todoroki, but she had been ignoring his calls and texts. Now, she was determined to have the best Christmas ever. Alone.

Todoroki was probably spending Christmas with Momo.

Immediately, she smacked herself. Why did she torture herself? She was going to move on, for God’s sake. She had to stop thinking about him.

Uraraka sighed again.

She wondered if it ever got easier.

There was a loud knock at her door.

Uraraka ignored it.

Steady knocks.

Uraraka covered her eyes with her hand.

The knocking got louder and more persistent.

Uraraka groaned, ripping off her hat and stomping to the door. The neighbors were going to complain at this rate. “What?” she growled, flinging the door open.

Todoroki stood, his hand held up mid-knock, covered in snow.

“S—Shouto?” was all that came out of her mouth. She stared at him stupidly.

He shook his head, brushing the snowflakes off. “Can I come in?”

Uraraka nodded slowly, her body moving unconsciously to let him in and shut the door behind him. He had taken off his coat and settled down on her couch before she snapped out of it.

She blinked rapidly, finally registering his presence in her apartment. “Wait, wha—how—why are you here?!” She demanded, marching up to him.

Todoroki adjusted the handcuffs of his sweater. “You’ve been ignoring me,” he replied, as if that answered her question. “Why?”

She sputtered at his bluntness. “What?”

He looked her in the eye seriously. “You haven’t responded to any of my messages or calls. You never go to our café anymore. You uninvited me from Christmas.”

Her heart wrenched painfully. She didn’t mean for any of that to happen. Their friendship—it meant so much to her. And he sounded so hurt…

“Ochako,” Todoroki murmured, sounding wounded. “Why did you stop being friends with me?”

Uraraka choked at his question, putting her head in her hands. She felt terrible. Oh, God. She was so mean. This was so incredibly unfair to Todoroki. He didn’t deserve any of this, and he didn’t even know why.

Her feelings didn’t take precedence over his. She felt so selfish.

“Oh, God, Shouto,” she stumbled over her words, feeling tears start to prick at the edge of her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry—this was so unfair—how could I do this to you? I’m so sorry, I really am. I can’t believe I—I only cared about how I felt—ugh, I feel awful. You deserve to know why I’m being so unfair to you,” she rambled into her hands, her voice muffled. “I just didn’t know how to act around you anymore—I didn’t know if I could see you with Momo. It’s so childish, I know, but I was so scared of getting my heart broken. I can’t believe I fell in love with you. I don’t know why I’ve only realized it now, but I didn’t want to ruin what we have already—because it’s so precious to me. I’m so sorry, Shouto.”

There was no response.

Uraraka held her breath. She didn’t dare peeking out from her fingers, fearing the worst.

Then, quietly: “You fell in love with me?”

She raised her head reluctantly, seeing his shocked expression. “Yes,” she swallowed, gathering her courage. “I did.”

Then, slowly, a gradual, genuine smile began to form on his face. That soft, tender expression was back again, and her breath caught in her throat at how beautiful he looked. Before she could even blink, he was standing right in front of her, their breaths intermingling.

“I’m going to kiss you this time,” he whispered, and leaned in. His hands cupped her cheeks and her arms wrapped around his waist, both of their eyes slipping closed. His lips were soft and warm, if a little chapped, and he tasted like soba. She readily opened her mouth to him, and their tongues met and intertwined languidly.

As they pulled apart, Uraraka was still struggling to breathe properly.

Todoroki was staring at her fondly, caressing her cheek softly. “It’s been a long time. I don’t even remember what it’s like to not love you.”

She bit her lip, flushing slightly. Her heart felt like it was bursting out of her chest. She felt so happy.

Wait. Her eyes widened as she comprehended his words. “Wait, what?” she asked, gazing at him earnestly.

He dropped his hands from her cheeks and averted his eyes immediately, looking slightly disgruntled. The tips of his ears were turning pink, and Uraraka giggled. He was embarrassed.

“Since when, Shouto?” she nudged him gently, enjoying the way he grumbled, looking sullen.

He muttered something incomprehensible.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she said, teasingly.

He glared. Grudgingly, Todoroki mumbled under his breath, “Since we were eighteen.”

The implications of his response hit her, and she was stupefied. It’d been eight years. Eight years.

He sighed, casting his eyes to the ceiling. “You liked Izuku for so long, and I supported you two. I promise, I really did,” he recounted. “But somewhere along the way, I—I didn’t mean for it to happen. I couldn’t help it. By the time I realized, it was too late. I was stuck.”

Uraraka laughed, feeling like she could conquer the world. And she could. With Todoroki by her side. “We’re both so stupid,” she noted.

Todoroki gave her a deadpan look. “Bad habits are hard to break.”

“Hey!” she exclaimed, removing an arm from around his waist to punch him in the arm.

He laughed. Uraraka stared at his happy expression, feeling freer than she had when she confessed to Deku. She smiled, thinking about how her year was turning out alright. To think this all started with that date.

Suddenly, her figure went frigid. “Oh no,” Uraraka panicked, frantic. “What about Momo?”

Todoroki eyed her weirdly. “What are you talking about?”

“Aren’t you still dating Momo?” she inquired in frenzied confusion.

He shrugged indifferently. “No, we only went on one date. Didn’t Izuku or Tsuyu tell you?”

Her jaw dropped. Those two...they knew this entire time?! Uraraka had thought they were dating this entire time! All that heartache—she was going to get them back for this.

“Besides, she has something with someone else,” Todoroki explained impassively. He tilted his head at her, wearing a casual expression. “I guess I’m stuck with you.”

“Shouto!” Uraraka pouted, sticking her tongue out at him indignantly. She turned away from him, irritated by his teasing.

A small smile crept onto his face. “Merry Christmas, Ochako.”

She beamed up at him in response. “Merry Christmas to you too, Shouto.”

Uraraka was 26 now, and she felt like she was on top of the world.

It was a crazy year, but she couldn’t help but feel grateful. She was the happiest that she could ever be.

As she entered the café, she spotted a mop of green hair at her usual table. She was glad that they were still the best of friends, and that they had moved forward from her confession earlier that year. Midoriya Izuku was always going to be a big part of her life.

“Ochako! Happy late birthday,” Midoriya greeted enthusiastically, running over to give her a big hug as she approached.

“Thanks,” she responded happily, returning his hug eagerly.

As she pulled off her coat to hang on her chair, Midoriya sat and turned to scrutinize her carefully. He shot her a smug, imploring look. “Hmm, did something good happen recently?”

“Shut up,” she quipped, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

He hesitated, his expression suddenly turned serious. “I’ve only known how he’s felt in the past year,” Midoriya stated remorsefully, guilt flashing through his eyes. “Asui had to point it out to me. I’ve never wanted to hurt Shouto—he’s the last person I would ever hurt, apart from you. I’m sorry that it happened this way. I’m a bad friend. I’m sorry for meddling—”

“Deku,” Uraraka interrupted him gently. “It’s okay. You didn’t know, and besides, it’s all in the past. You’re a great friend. In fact, you’re the best.”

“The best?” he asked.

“The bestest,” she responded, smiling.

Midoriya grinned back at her.

The bell jingled to indicate a new customer, and both turned to see their other best friend shaking snow off of his long, black peacoat.

Todoroki made his way over to their table, greeting in his curt, aloof way. “Hey, Izuku.”

As Midoriya made a similar greeting, Todoroki slid off his coat and draped it onto his chair. He turned to Uraraka, his expression softening. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returned lightly.

Todoroki sat down in his chair as Midoriya pulled them into conversation. “Hey, Shouto,” Midoriya questioned curiously. “Did you decide which job to accept?”

“Yeah,” Todoroki answered. “I’ve decided to go with U.A. The school means a lot to me, and,” he glanced quickly at Uraraka, subtly finding her hand on the table and lacing their fingers together. “I would be able to stay here.”

Midoriya eyed their intertwined hands gleefully. “About time, huh?”

The couple exchanged looks, and Uraraka laughed heartily. Who would have thought this would happen? Not her.

Uraraka felt Todoroki squeeze her hand gently.

She smiled at him.

She was glad that it all worked out in the end.

Omake:

Momo regarded her date carefully. He was picking at his steak, using his knife to move the asparagus around his plate in a circular motion.

Although they weren’t the closest, they had kept in touch over the years since graduating high-school, and Momo considered Todoroki a good friend. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, but Momo still remembered the little quirks that he had: when he picked at his food, he was very clearly out of it.

Something was bothering him.

“Todoroki?” She called his name, gathering his attention. He immediately looked up, stopping his nervous habit. “Are you alright?” she asked.

He looked frozen, but it was like something in his brain restarted and his face quickly changed into a neutral expression. “Yeah,” he responded, and Momo couldn’t help but think that his poker face seemed strained.

Momo laughed into her hand, shaking her head at his attempts to cover up his feelings. She’d known him for 10 years now. She had always been observant—of course she knew how he felt.

Todoroki was eyeing her curiously.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know this date is weird for you,” Momo said, smiling genially. “I know how you feel about Ochako.”

Todoroki seemed taken aback by her words, the shock evident on his face.

Momo chuckled. They had never broached this topic, despite being friends for years. Todoroki wasn’t one to share his feelings, and Momo had never pushed farther than he was comfortable. But it was clearly time to say something, and besides, it wasn’t as if people couldn’t tell how he felt about Ochako.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Momo explained thoughtfully.

It was hard to miss, really. Ochako had simply been too focused on Midoriya to ever notice. Momo had always thought it was rather tragic, that particular triangle, because it was obvious that Todoroki was convinced Ochako would end up with Midoriya, and would rather shoot himself in the foot rather than betray both of his best friends.

But it seemed that Midoriya was starting to realize how his best friend felt for his other best friend, at least in the recent years. Momo knew that Midoriya must be feeling guilty, knowing that Todoroki would sacrifice his own happiness before making any moves on Ochako.

Sadly, it wasn’t her place to fix this particular situation. Momo had a bigger headache in her life, anyway.

“I—” Todoroki looked stricken, his neutral expression cracking slightly. “It’s not—that’s not—”

He cut himself off, looking more frustrated and conflicted than she’d seen him in years.

“Tsuyu advised me,” Todoroki started again, in a forced, calm voice, “that it’s maybe time to move forward.”

Momo had heard the same advice from Asui as well, which was how they both wound up on this set-up date together. Part of the reason why she agreed to this in the first place was because she heard the details about Todoroki’s situation.

She could see why Todoroki was conflicted and maybe even a little drained. Ochako was finally ready to confess her feelings to Midoriya—Todoroki must’ve assumed that their romance was finally happening, and knew that he had to start moving on before he was stuck loving a taken girl.

But she could tell that he’d fallen a little too deep. He was currently struggling to let go of something he had probably been feeling for years.

“She said the same thing to me,” Momo replied, taking a small sip of her water. “It’s been a complicated few years for me, too.”

Todoroki studied her discreetly.

“Bakugou feels the same way,” He offered gingerly, scrutinizing her carefully to gauge her reaction.

Momo’s head snapped up, and she stared at him incredulously. How did he know?

“He’s a bit slow and prickly,” Todoroki reassured nonchalantly, placing a small piece of asparagus into his mouth and chewing slowly. “But he’s only ever had eyes for you.”

She was bewildered. Todoroki was also more observant than she’d given him credit for.

But Momo smiled. His words definitely gave her hope—that her situation would turn out okay. “You’re observant,” she pointed out teasingly.

Todoroki shrugged.

She was filled with the strangest feeling of newfound hope. And somehow, she knew that Todoroki would figure it out, too.

“Hey, Todoroki,” Momo said gently, convicted with the sudden desire to encourage him. “You shouldn’t give up on her, either.” She winked. “I have a good feeling that it’ll all work out soon enough.”

He paused, nodding slightly before cutting a piece of his steak.

Maybe she didn’t convince him fully. But Momo had this strong inkling that it was all going to work itself out soon. And maybe he was right about Bakugou, too.

She twisted a big forkful of her spaghetti and happily placed it all in her mouth.

It was going to be okay.

-fin-

endnote: i am so sorry for this fic being so long. i'm awful, lol. also: i do love izuocha and i think it’s super cute, but i have this headcanon that midoriya will be single because he’s so focused and being the greatest hero is his dream and it’s so amazing—but at the same time, uraraka deserves someone that sees her for her. not someone she idealizes and wants to be, but someone who lets her be her and inspires her in a different way. also i have a headcanon that Todoroki gets married (but not until much later, hence the ages in this fic) in the end because he deserves to know what a loving family feels like. But hahaha I also wanted to write a realistic fic of uraraka getting over midoriya because no one ever writes about the realistic process lol (funnily enough, I have been in both uraraka’s and midoriya’s roles before). Sorry if todo’s a little out of character here, it’s been 10 years after all, and I feel like he would grow so much—and I also think he would be the type to suffer silently bc midoriya means a lot to him as well as uraraka and from his POV I see him taking a bit to realize his feelings but stepping out of the way because his friends mean more to him than his own selfish happiness. hope you enjoyed!

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