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love’s soulmate is sacrifice, shouto todoroki.
652. angst with feelings. loving someone is loving the bad as fiercely as the good, sometimes twice as hard.
silence stretches for eons. it hungers, lingering in the darkest corners of every room, and hangs heavy. waiting, like an animal hunched still with baited breath for prey to wander into its trap unknowingly. its crooked claws scratch slowly against the walls you’ve built to keep it out, previously sturdy, but with uncanny patience, it persisted.
tonight, it peeks over the cracked rubble and rears its ugly head.
that pain comes first, as it always does–never physical and beyond the call for natural or scientific remedy. this pain comes from festered and blissful ignorance, a sad tango for two that crushes your human heart in tune to a distorted melody. it bleeds into your consciousness and feeds on your despair the way liquid seeps into carpeting, and sinks deep into your state of mind no matter how many times you viciously scrub to get rid of it.
he has borne the brunt of the unspeakable days. the days where you scream and cry and shout things you know will hurt on purpose. the days where you succumb to his ever welcoming arms and cry, powering through stuttered gasps and hiccups that wrack through your entire body for as long as you need him. the silent days are the worst. he knows he cannot reach you then, for his words do not break through the unresponsive shell of what his lover used to be.
how could you love someone like me? you had asked once, throat still waterlogged thick with remnants of emotion. you were facing the wall, unable to look at him without being ashamed. his arms had remained around your middle in an attempt to console you anyway. that, you recall, had made you feel ten times worse. i feel broken. surely you must be tired of me. of this, of–
trying to piece me back together, every morning. every morning it hurts to get up. every morning it aches. you could be happy, be with someone normal.
it takes a moment for him to respond. you think he’s fallen to slumber, even, and you can’t help but chastise yourself. you’ve really done it now–
to love someone is to love all of them, isn't it?
so tonight, when he sees your carefully placed facade for the day crumble with each step you venture into your shared home, he understands. he’s there to meet you halfway when your strained smile slips right off of your lips, when your shoulders sag after holding them high for so long. that staggering weight of your burden sways your walk off footing–but he’s there to catch you, to lower you to the floor and into comforting arms.
how could you love someone like me? you ask through tears again, inconsolable from the kind of grief he knows isn’t tangible. a part of him chips away with despair each and every time you ask him such, unknowing of the way his soul trembles each time you look through instead of at him, defeated as your eyes glaze over tiredly. i don’t understand how or why you chose to stay. isn’t it tiring? aren’t you tired?
it is exhausting. but isn’t love’s soulmate sacrifice, and his heart’s, yours?
to love someone is to love all of them, isn’t it? it’s the same reply he always gives and always means without fail, in bed with your back to him or on the floor with your tears soaking through his shirt. to love someone is to love them wholly, to accept the good with their worst, and all the ghastly inbetweens.
he cradles your tear streaked face in his hands and stares your silence head-on. it wails in disbelief, slinking behind your with dead eyes, and assesses him carefully. it’ll be back, they both know, but he will be, too. next to you, for as long as you’ll ever need him to be.
you would do the same for me, too.
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love’s soulmate is sacrifice, shouto todoroki.
652. angst with feelings. loving someone is loving the bad as fiercely as the good, sometimes twice as hard.
silence stretches for eons. it hungers, lingering in the darkest corners of every room, and hangs heavy. waiting, like an animal hunched still with baited breath for prey to wander into its trap unknowingly. its crooked claws scratch slowly against the walls you’ve built to keep it out, previously sturdy, but with uncanny patience, it persisted.
tonight, it peeks over the cracked rubble and rears its ugly head.
that pain comes first, as it always does–never physical and beyond the call for natural or scientific remedy. this pain comes from festered and blissful ignorance, a sad tango for two that crushes your human heart in tune to a distorted melody. it bleeds into your consciousness and feeds on your despair the way liquid seeps into carpeting, and sinks deep into your state of mind no matter how many times you viciously scrub to get rid of it.
he has borne the brunt of the unspeakable days. the days where you scream and cry and shout things you know will hurt on purpose. the days where you succumb to his ever welcoming arms and cry, powering through stuttered gasps and hiccups that wrack through your entire body for as long as you need him. the silent days are the worst. he knows he cannot reach you then, for his words do not break through the unresponsive shell of what his lover used to be.
how could you love someone like me? you had asked once, throat still waterlogged thick with remnants of emotion. you were facing the wall, unable to look at him without being ashamed. his arms had remained around your middle in an attempt to console you anyway. that, you recall, had made you feel ten times worse. i feel broken. surely you must be tired of me. of this, of–
trying to piece me back together, every morning. every morning it hurts to get up. every morning it aches. you could be happy, be with someone normal.
it takes a moment for him to respond. you think he’s fallen to slumber, even, and you can’t help but chastise yourself. you’ve really done it now–
to love someone is to love all of them, isn't it?
so tonight, when he sees your carefully placed facade for the day crumble with each step you venture into your shared home, he understands. he’s there to meet you halfway when your strained smile slips right off of your lips, when your shoulders sag after holding them high for so long. that staggering weight of your burden sways your walk off footing–but he’s there to catch you, to lower you to the floor and into comforting arms.
how could you love someone like me? you ask through tears again, inconsolable from the kind of grief he knows isn’t tangible. a part of him chips away with despair each and every time you ask him such, unknowing of the way his soul trembles each time you look through instead of at him, defeated as your eyes glaze over tiredly. i don’t understand how or why you chose to stay. isn’t it tiring? aren’t you tired?
it is exhausting. but isn’t love’s soulmate sacrifice, and his heart’s, yours?
to love someone is to love all of them, isn’t it? it’s the same reply he always gives and always means without fail, in bed with your back to him or on the floor with your tears soaking through his shirt. to love someone is to love them wholly, to accept the good with their worst, and all the ghastly inbetweens.
he cradles your tear streaked face in his hands and stares your silence head-on. it wails in disbelief, slinking behind your with dead eyes, and assesses him carefully. it’ll be back, they both know, but he will be, too. next to you, for as long as you’ll ever need him to be.
you would do the same for me, too.
#last piece before i fully commit to grinding for finals </3#bnha fic#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha fluff#bnha x you#boku no hero academia#mha fic#mha fluff#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha x reader#mha#shouto todoroki#todoroki x reader#todoroki x you#todoroki x y/n#todoroki angst#mha angst#bnha angst
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stupid, katsuki bakugou.
300. fluff. if the fondness i have for him peeks out in this a little, don’t say a word.
katsuki bakugou has a staring problem.
he does, and he knows he does, but scarlet colored hues narrow each time without fail when they settle upon your features. and to someone who didn't know him, they would think the boy was out to get you. maybe in the middle of the night with no witnesses, to keep his hands clean.
katsuki bakugou also thinks you're stupid.
not academically, of course. he's seen your drive and you're not too bad in any of your classes, actually. he just thinks it's stupid the way your laugh seems to hang in the air a couple seconds after you've even stopped giggling, a hand covered to muffled the sound once aizawa turned to send an unimpressed glare over his shoulder.
it's stupid the way your cheer on the rest of the class during training, waving excitedly as everyone eventually completes the day's challenge, and immediately set to complimenting everyone's individual approach like you actually cared or something.
(flattery doesn't work on him, though, so you can cut the shit.)
(that was a lie.)
and yet.. katsuki bakugou can't help but take a liking to you. strange, he knows. it's not like he expected it, either. but he finds himself offhandedly hoping you're paired together for the next project you'll be assigned, or that you'll run up to him first when he completes the day's training, or that you'll—
notice him staring.
it throws him off too, eyes widening for a split second before immediately turning away, cheek smushed into his hand. and against his will - ugh - he feels his face grow hot, brows furrowed at the sheer audacity.
because now, katsuki bakugou can finally admit to himself that these 'shitty' feelings are more than just stupid.
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stupid, katsuki bakugou.
300. fluff. if the fondness i have for him peeks out in this a little, don’t say a word.
katsuki bakugou has a staring problem.
he does, and he knows he does, but scarlet colored hues narrow each time without fail when they settle upon your features. and to someone who didn't know him, they would think the boy was out to get you. maybe in the middle of the night with no witnesses, to keep his hands clean.
katsuki bakugou also thinks you're stupid.
not academically, of course. he's seen your drive and you're not too bad in any of your classes, actually. he just thinks it's stupid the way your laugh seems to hang in the air a couple seconds after you've even stopped giggling, a hand covered to muffled the sound once aizawa turned to send an unimpressed glare over his shoulder.
it's stupid the way your cheer on the rest of the class during training, waving excitedly as everyone eventually completes the day's challenge, and immediately set to complimenting everyone's individual approach like you actually cared or something.
(flattery doesn't work on him, though, so you can cut the shit.)
(that was a lie.)
and yet.. katsuki bakugou can't help but take a liking to you. strange, he knows. it's not like he expected it, either. but he finds himself offhandedly hoping you're paired together for the next project you'll be assigned, or that you'll run up to him first when he completes the day's training, or that you'll—
notice him staring.
it throws him off too, eyes widening for a split second before immediately turning away, cheek smushed into his hand. and against his will - ugh - he feels his face grow hot, brows furrowed at the sheer audacity.
because now, katsuki bakugou can finally admit to himself that these 'shitty' feelings are more than just stupid.
#bnha fic#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#bnha#boku no hero academia#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha fluff#mha fic#mha x reader#mha#my hero academia#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x you#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x reader
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his touch, hitoshi shinsou.
405. fluff. originally written for my resident gremlin but i feel like the flow of this piece suits toshi more.
slowly, fingertips drag along the surface of your arm, just barely making their presence known. you welcome his touch with a sigh, leaning backwards into the chair as his touch moves upwards: rubbing at your shoulders, grazing the outline of your neck, caressing your face. you tip your head backwards to meet his gaze and he offers the faintest edges of smile in return.
your heart squeezes in familiarity at the all too welcomed sight. it's been a while since the both of you have had time to spend with each other, your schedules just barely aligning. he was away often, as the city was so ever demanding, and you didn't want to interrupt his down time - when he did get the time to wind down. you, on the other hand, were neck deep within the growing abundance of work that never seemed to stop piling up, no matter how hard you worked.
it was tiring. you were tired, and in the midst of your exhaustion, you'd forgotten that he didn't have to go in today, the routine of getting used to barely seeing him engraved within you as you walked yourself home that night. you'd texted him before you left, of course, your messages being one of the few ways you two communicated.
"hey." he nudges the side of your head gently, and you close your eyes as the sound of his voice engulfs you, spreading warmth right to your bones. god, you missed this. you missed him. "tired?"
you nod slowly, a faint smile spreading across your lips as his own presses a soft kiss upon your forehead.
"missed you," is all you can manage, craving more and more of his touch now that you've gotten a taste of it after so long. you can't even remember the last time you had peacefully enjoyed each other's company.
"sorry," he mumbles, brows creased slightly as he tugs you towards the couch, his arms wrapping around you soon after, and suddenly he's everywhere. your rest your head within the crook of his neck and curl into his side, finally allowing yourself to relax. it's a moment before he speaks up again, the two of you a comfortable mass of tangled limbs and love. "i missed you, too."
"don't apologize for something you can't control," you smile, and he pulls you closer in response, resting his head atop yours. "you're here now, and.. that's all that matters."
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his touch, hitoshi shinsou.
405. fluff. originally written for my resident gremlin but i feel like the flow of this piece suits toshi more.
slowly, fingertips drag along the surface of your arm, just barely making their presence known. you welcome his touch with a sigh, leaning backwards into the chair as his touch moves upwards: rubbing at your shoulders, grazing the outline of your neck, caressing your face. you tip your head backwards to meet his gaze and he offers the faintest edges of smile in return.
your heart squeezes in familiarity at the all too welcomed sight. it's been a while since the both of you have had time to spend with each other, your schedules just barely aligning. he was away often, as the city was so ever demanding, and you didn't want to interrupt his down time - when he did get the time to wind down. you, on the other hand, were neck deep within the growing abundance of work that never seemed to stop piling up, no matter how hard you worked.
it was tiring. you were tired, and in the midst of your exhaustion, you'd forgotten that he didn't have to go in today, the routine of getting used to barely seeing him engraved within you as you walked yourself home that night. you'd texted him before you left, of course, your messages being one of the few ways you two communicated.
"hey." he nudges the side of your head gently, and you close your eyes as the sound of his voice engulfs you, spreading warmth right to your bones. god, you missed this. you missed him. "tired?"
you nod slowly, a faint smile spreading across your lips as his own presses a soft kiss upon your forehead.
"missed you," is all you can manage, craving more and more of his touch now that you've gotten a taste of it after so long. you can't even remember the last time you had peacefully enjoyed each other's company.
"sorry," he mumbles, brows creased slightly as he tugs you towards the couch, his arms wrapping around you soon after, and suddenly he's everywhere. your rest your head within the crook of his neck and curl into his side, finally allowing yourself to relax. it's a moment before he speaks up again, the two of you a comfortable mass of tangled limbs and love. "i missed you, too."
"don't apologize for something you can't control," you smile, and he pulls you closer in response, resting his head atop yours. "you're here now, and.. that's all that matters."
#bnha fic#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#bnha#boku no hero academia#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha fluff#mha fic#mha x reader#mha#my hero academia#hitoshi shinsou#hitoshi shinso x reader#hitoshi x y/n#hitoshi x you#hitoshi x reader#shinsou x you#shinsou x y/n
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so when was i going to be made aware that you were back writing 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔
(all jokes missed you pookie 😙)
it was a decision on the whim i fear… it still feels fragile ngl 😭
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i don’t think im going to write for hq but there’s this one piece i found deep deep in my drafts that i posted in 2021 that i love so much so….
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hi hi, @fabulouxity here ! i swear i recognize your main user from back in the day but i don’t think we were moots unfortunately 😭 just wanted to say i love love love your recent writing for shinsou and so glad to see a fellow FLO girlie 🫶🏽🫶🏽
aw hi <3 and thank you! hes very dear to me… i need to have him in my pocket
#message received .ᐟ ׄ ׅ ⊹#and flo to the world! i neeeed them to be as big as dc so bad#i need a full album in time for summer 🙏🏽
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sugar, mitsuki & masaru.
560. fluff. in love with katsuki’s parents in a fond way. their dynamic is every important to me. masaru loves his wife so much and you should too. ( threat )
mitsuki makes her way into the kitchen just as the digital clock strikes 7.
it’s moments like these, suspended in time, that masaru truly gets to admire his wife’s serenity. mair a mess from rolling straight out of bed, robe sloppily hanging off one shoulder, and the matching house slippers katsuki surprised the two of them with two christmas’ ago that she refuses to throw out adorning her feet. unmistakably her.
he smiles into his coffee and she throws him a look.
“what.” bitten off with a yawn and tapered off into something soft. unmistakably her.
“nothing, nothing,”
he sets to making her own cup and she smiles at him gratefully, pillow lines curving into her cheek just barely. and when he stirs milk into her coffee under her watchful gaze—very particular about the amount, she was—he realizes he’s smitten. a love born from the most uncanny of pairs held steadfastly for many years, and here he was, cheeks reddening at the thought of having a crush on his wife.
mitsuki sends him the second odd look of the morning. It's only been six minutes.
he clears his throat. “creamer?”
“mhm,”
he’s asked what it’s like ‘dealing with her’ a lot, lines blurred between joke and concern. and while he can agree that the two of them do make for a sight to behold, he’d do it all over again and still choose her. they didn’t see the funny faces she makes when she’s on the phone with a client she absolutely loathed, or the way she lit up at the sight of small dogs, or the hidden pride she had whenever someone talked about their son.
he’s mellowed out, now, she’d commented once with a faint sigh. he hadn’t missed the way the corners of her lips had turned up every so slightly, or the way her fingers had curled into the fabric of her skirt. the school’s been a good environment for him. was worried he’d never change, and… i recognize a part of it’s my fault as well.
masaru knows she’s the first person most would blame, but he knows he’s been too lenient, too underspoken. it’s a weight the two of them carried unspoken, each held down by the what if’s and could have been’s. but progress has been made, steps made towards a relationship better than what was left of it. he knows they still hover, awkward, ashamedly so–he’s so grown. so much more responsible–but they try. And while he doesn’t show it, he can tell that katsuki appreciates it nonetheless. (even if they are a little embarrassing.)
“sugar?”
“yes?”
he stops stirring abruptly, desperately fighting back the flush threatening to spread across his features, and gives her a pointed look of slight exasperation. he only relents when mitsuki poorly tries to hide a grin into the palm of her hand, her quiet snort a dead giveaway.
masaru sighs fondly and adds two spoonfuls of sugar. nineteen years and he’s still falling for the same jokes. he supposes it’s worth it, getting to see her smile like that.
sliding the cup over when finished, he watches as she takes the first sip, something horridly sappy banging alongside his heart when she hums her delight, content lifting her lips into a brilliant smile.
“thank you.” for choosing me. for katsuki. for the coffee.
definitely worth it.
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i fucking love your fic of shinsou. it resonates something within me and also got me giggling kicking my feet at 1 am. i will be thinking about it for the rest of the day, thank you. 🕺🕺
this is so sweet thank you :( he’s one of my favorites, this means everything to me <3
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sugar, mitsuki & masaru.
560. fluff. in love with katsuki’s parents in a fond way. their dynamic is every important to me. masaru loves his wife so much and you should too. ( threat )
mitsuki makes her way into the kitchen just as the digital clock strikes 7.
it’s moments like these, suspended in time, that masaru truly gets to admire his wife’s serenity. mair a mess from rolling straight out of bed, robe sloppily hanging off one shoulder, and the matching house slippers katsuki surprised the two of them with two christmas’ ago that she refuses to throw out adorning her feet. unmistakably her.
he smiles into his coffee and she throws him a look.
“what.” bitten off with a yawn and tapered off into something soft. unmistakably her.
“nothing, nothing,”
he sets to making her own cup and she smiles at him gratefully, pillow lines curving into her cheek just barely. and when he stirs milk into her coffee under her watchful gaze—very particular about the amount, she was—he realizes he’s smitten. a love born from the most uncanny of pairs held steadfastly for many years, and here he was, cheeks reddening at the thought of having a crush on his wife.
mitsuki sends him the second odd look of the morning. It's only been six minutes.
he clears his throat. “creamer?”
“mhm,”
he’s asked what it’s like ‘dealing with her’ a lot, lines blurred between joke and concern. and while he can agree that the two of them do make for a sight to behold, he’d do it all over again and still choose her. they didn’t see the funny faces she makes when she’s on the phone with a client she absolutely loathed, or the way she lit up at the sight of small dogs, or the hidden pride she had whenever someone talked about their son.
he’s mellowed out, now, she’d commented once with a faint sigh. he hadn’t missed the way the corners of her lips had turned up every so slightly, or the way her fingers had curled into the fabric of her skirt. the school’s been a good environment for him. was worried he’d never change, and… i recognize a part of it’s my fault as well.
masaru knows she’s the first person most would blame, but he knows he’s been too lenient, too underspoken. it’s a weight the two of them carried unspoken, each held down by the what if’s and could have been’s. but progress has been made, steps made towards a relationship better than what was left of it. he knows they still hover, awkward, ashamedly so–he’s so grown. so much more responsible–but they try. And while he doesn’t show it, he can tell that katsuki appreciates it nonetheless. (even if they are a little embarrassing.)
“sugar?”
“yes?”
he stops stirring abruptly, desperately fighting back the flush threatening to spread across his features, and gives her a pointed look of slight exasperation. he only relents when mitsuki poorly tries to hide a grin into the palm of her hand, her quiet snort a dead giveaway.
masaru sighs fondly and adds two spoonfuls of sugar. nineteen years and he’s still falling for the same jokes. he supposes it’s worth it, getting to see her smile like that.
sliding the cup over when finished, he watches as she takes the first sip, something horridly sappy banging alongside his heart when she hums her delight, content lifting her lips into a brilliant smile.
“thank you.” for choosing me. for katsuki. for the coffee.
definitely worth it.
#masaru bakugou#mitsuki bakugou#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha fluff#bnha fic#my hero academia#mha#mha fic#mha fluff
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late night disaster, hitoshi shinsou.
1.03k. fluff. more sappiness. secret relationship things. denki being a gossip. you know.
a gentle buzz against his arm stirs him from sweet dreams and an even sweeter state of slumber. soft sceneries of gentle hands and picnics in the grass evaporate into thin air as the buzzing becomes persistent, brows furrowing above a dark violet gaze.
patting around the sheets for his phone, he squints at the offendingly bright screen for a moment to let his eyes adjust, wondering who the hell would be so cruel to bother him at…
squinting harder at his screen, he frowns once he checks the time. 2:06 AM blares back at him almost mockingly. christ.
lingering on his wallpaper for a bit—matching ones, something he’d openly say is cheesy but secretly smile at when he’s sure no one’s looking—he unlocks his phone singlehanded and scrolls until he finds who the hell decided to bother him. unopened messages from ‘annoying people’ (monoma, countless 3-B group chats, and people who wanted his number to get closer to others once he’d made the switch to class A) and other people he ‘somewhat tolerated’ (kaminari, the band gc, and so on) illuminate his features until he catches a notification pop up from an active chat.
against his better judgment, he opens it. and immediately regrets it.
kaminari’s excited texting alerts the entire chat of his presence, and soon enough, half of his classmates bombard him with prying questions and sly remarks (and the occasional keyboard smash, but that didn’t count).
hitoshi shifts slightly and exhales, briefly closing his eyes for a moment. less than ten seconds in the chat and he’s already exhausted.
‘soooo,’ kaminari types for a while, gaining his attention once more. ‘i saw two people sneak off to a certain someone’s dorm earlier…’
his heart slowly begins to hammer in his chest as the chat explodes, too many texts for him to account for filtering in before he can register any of them. worst of all, a weight on top of him begins to stir, and hitoshi can officially say his soul has left this plane of existence.
he watches, silent as you lift your head up to bear your surroundings with half lidded eyes, and wills his heart to kindly shut the fuck up. he’s almost certain you can even hear it, gaze knowing when it lands on him and causes a lazy smile to spread across your lips.
“hi, you,” your voice filters out to a tired sigh, sitting up on your knees to stretch your arms above your head, and it’s enough to almost make him forget about the dm disaster occurring in real time.
almost.
“we have a problem,” he says in greeting, and only offers his screen to show when your brows furrow in response. slowly, your eyes widen, and you slump against his shoulder with a quiet groan.
“curse you, kami. he’s so nosy.” your words are muffled into his hair and it tickles against his neck just barely. he makes no effort to move. “you should really do something about that.”
“me?” hitoshi pulls back incredulously, and narrows his eyes at the grin spreading across your lips again. “i’m the one who told you i swore i heard something back there earlier!”
“that could have been anything! everyone knows ua’s like, haunted. past mistakes and ghosts of students aizawa’s expelled.”
he snorts despite himself, and refuses to psychically react to the way you light up at the sound of his laugh. annoying, honestly, how you managed to be so—
a faint ding! breaks his mental stupor, glancing down briefly at his own screen while you pat around for yours. a few of his classmates are still pressing the blond for answers, but surprisingly, he hasn’t relented.
‘it’s totally not my place to say,’ kami wrote. ‘but just know that when everyone eventually finds out, i told you so!’
hitoshi pleasantly resists the urge to bury himself fifty feet below ground level.
“should we tell them?”
he looks up when your voice turns sheepish, teeth sinking into your lower lip nervously. “i mean—unless you really don’t want to. kami probably already knows, and it won’t be long until kirishima knows, and then he’ll probably tell mina, and then mina will tell everyone—”
your hands reach for his and squeeze, strangely reminiscent of the dream he’d been having not too long ago. comforting, reassuring. it makes him sick to his stomach in a completely positive and normal way.
“i just don’t want you to be, y’know. rushed into things. i know you like your privacy, so if this is too much, tell me.”
you smile faintly, epitome of all things good in the wretched and deceiving world, and his heart falls to his knees in defeat. or… whatever.
“we’ll tell everyone tomorrow,” he agrees slowly, and can’t help the small smile that spreads across his lips as well. “during homeroom. hopefully before aizawa comes to class.”
“yeah…”
you both wince at the memory of a previous confession falling flat just as your homeroom teacher crawled into the classroom in a neon pink sleeping bag, scaring the shit out kaminari and effectively blasting out the lights on the entire floor.
shaking his head, he puts his phone on do not disturb and wordlessly beckons you closer, settling into the comfortable position the two of you had donned before and tries to relax. you melt into his arms almost instantly, but poke his side when you feel him tense.
“don’t think about it too much, okay?” arms wrapped around his middle, you squeeze him tight and the gesture is oddly comforting. “actually—think about it this way: you no longer have to kill anyone with your eyes when they talk to me for longer than socially equired.”
once again, his heart falls to his knees… and dies. he had no idea you’d be watching him the whole time. fucking what—
trying to compose himself and the remaining dregs of his dignity, he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “you’re hallucinating.”
“midoriya told me he felt like someone was watching him, toshi.”
well. it’s not like he’d be wrong.
“go to sleep,” he says instead, and hopes you can’t hear the smile in his voice when you laugh and quietly bid him goodnight.
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late night disaster, hitoshi shinsou.
1.03k. fluff. more sappiness. secret relationship things. denki being a gossip. you know.
a gentle buzz against his arm stirs him from sweet dreams and an even sweeter state of slumber. soft sceneries of gentle hands and picnics in the grass evaporate into thin air as the buzzing becomes persistent, brows furrowing above a dark violet gaze.
patting around the sheets for his phone, he squints at the offendingly bright screen for a moment to let his eyes adjust, wondering who the hell would be so cruel to bother him at…
squinting harder at his screen, he frowns once he checks the time. 2:06 AM blares back at him almost mockingly. christ.
lingering on his wallpaper for a bit—matching ones, something he’d openly say is cheesy but secretly smile at when he’s sure no one’s looking—he unlocks his phone singlehanded and scrolls until he finds who the hell decided to bother him. unopened messages from ‘annoying people’ (monoma, countless 3-B group chats, and people who wanted his number to get closer to others once he’d made the switch to class A) and other people he ‘somewhat tolerated’ (kaminari, the band gc, and so on) illuminate his features until he catches a notification pop up from an active chat.
against his better judgment, he opens it. and immediately regrets it.
kaminari’s excited texting alerts the entire chat of his presence, and soon enough, half of his classmates bombard him with prying questions and sly remarks (and the occasional keyboard smash, but that didn’t count).
hitoshi shifts slightly and exhales, briefly closing his eyes for a moment. less than ten seconds in the chat and he’s already exhausted.
‘soooo,’ kaminari types for a while, gaining his attention once more. ‘i saw two people sneak off to a certain someone’s dorm earlier…’
his heart slowly begins to hammer in his chest as the chat explodes, too many texts for him to account for filtering in before he can register any of them. worst of all, a weight on top of him begins to stir, and hitoshi can officially say his soul has left this plane of existence.
he watches, silent as you lift your head up to bear your surroundings with half lidded eyes, and wills his heart to kindly shut the fuck up. he’s almost certain you can even hear it, gaze knowing when it lands on him and causes a lazy smile to spread across your lips.
“hi, you,” your voice filters out to a tired sigh, sitting up on your knees to stretch your arms above your head, and it’s enough to almost make him forget about the dm disaster occurring in real time.
almost.
“we have a problem,” he says in greeting, and only offers his screen to show when your brows furrow in response. slowly, your eyes widen, and you slump against his shoulder with a quiet groan.
“curse you, kami. he’s so nosy.” your words are muffled into his hair and it tickles against his neck just barely. he makes no effort to move. “you should really do something about that.”
“me?” hitoshi pulls back incredulously, and narrows his eyes at the grin spreading across your lips again. “i’m the one who told you i swore i heard something back there earlier!”
“that could have been anything! everyone knows ua’s like, haunted. past mistakes and ghosts of students aizawa’s expelled.”
he snorts despite himself, and refuses to psychically react to the way you light up at the sound of his laugh. annoying, honestly, how you managed to be so—
a faint ding! breaks his mental stupor, glancing down briefly at his own screen while you pat around for yours. a few of his classmates are still pressing the blond for answers, but surprisingly, he hasn’t relented.
‘it’s totally not my place to say,’ kami wrote. ‘but just know that when everyone eventually finds out, i told you so!’
hitoshi pleasantly resists the urge to bury himself fifty feet below ground level.
“should we tell them?”
he looks up when your voice turns sheepish, teeth sinking into your lower lip nervously. “i mean—unless you really don’t want to. kami probably already knows, and it won’t be long until kirishima knows, and then he’ll probably tell mina, and then mina will tell everyone—”
your hands reach for his and squeeze, strangely reminiscent of the dream he’d been having not too long ago. comforting, reassuring. it makes him sick to his stomach in a completely positive and normal way.
“i just don’t want you to be, y’know. rushed into things. i know you like your privacy, so if this is too much, tell me.”
you smile faintly, epitome of all things good in the wretched and deceiving world, and his heart falls to his knees in defeat. or… whatever.
“we’ll tell everyone tomorrow,” he agrees slowly, and can’t help the small smile that spreads across his lips as well. “during homeroom. hopefully before aizawa comes to class.”
“yeah…”
you both wince at the memory of a previous confession falling flat just as your homeroom teacher crawled into the classroom in a neon pink sleeping bag, scaring the shit out kaminari and effectively blasting out the lights on the entire floor.
shaking his head, he puts his phone on do not disturb and wordlessly beckons you closer, settling into the comfortable position the two of you had donned before and tries to relax. you melt into his arms almost instantly, but poke his side when you feel him tense.
“don’t think about it too much, okay?” arms wrapped around his middle, you squeeze him tight and the gesture is oddly comforting. “actually—think about it this way: you no longer have to kill anyone with your eyes when they talk to me for longer than socially equired.”
once again, his heart falls to his knees… and dies. he had no idea you’d be watching him the whole time. fucking what—
trying to compose himself and the remaining dregs of his dignity, he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “you’re hallucinating.”
“midoriya told me he felt like someone was watching him, toshi.”
well. it’s not like he’d be wrong.
“go to sleep,” he says instead, and hopes you can’t hear the smile in his voice when you laugh and quietly bid him goodnight.
#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#bnha fluff#bnha fic#bnha x reader#mha x reader#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha fic#mha fluff#hitoshi shinsou#shinsou x reader#shinsou x you#shinsou x y/n#shinsou fluff#shinsou fic#hitoshi x reader#hitoshi x you#hitoshi x y/n
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home, bakugou katsuki.
1.01k. fluff. sappy feelings and speaking through actions. pro-hero!katsuki. did i mention sappy feelings? this little guy is so important to me.
it’s warm at this time of night, the cool breeze through the open window providing just enough chill as to not be too overbearing. the curtains sway to and fro in its graceful dance with the wind. it’s light and curious, almost toying and catlike, and it’s entrancing.
the earth is still. no noise but the wind and its newfound partner, quiet sounds blending into the background. the coffee’s gone a tad bit lukewarm, and your phone lights up momentarily before slowly fading out.
you feel his presence before you see him.
katsuki bakugou is a plethora of surprises you’re still trying to figure out. gone is the boy who pulled pigtails and spoke with his fists — although a select few would disagree with this statement — and in his place, is acceptance. a gathering of discovering who he once was and emerging as something to be proud of. he’s still boyish grins and declarations of war and promised destruction to his path towards the glittering promise of success and fame that comes with japan’s number one are all still there, but there’s no denying the maturity steadily growing at the seams. unbridled anger has been confronted and recognized at last instead of being pushed to the side to fester at an alarming rate, his past catching up far too quickly than he would have time to prepare for, and it cost him.
it cost him a lot. far more than he would have realized. he doesn’t regret it though, and you’re proud of him.
a familiar warmth signals his arrival. heat spreads through your bones, unrelenting, and you lean into that feeling instinctively. a faint whiff of something sweet and a bit tangy fills the air, settling in with the heat, breathing in deeply the aroma of assured comfort and safety. exhaling slowly, you hum content, a soft sigh emitting past your lips as you set your mug down. the coffee’s no good now that it’s gone cold, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to make another.
fingertips graze over your skin and leave goosebumps in their wake, the pads of his fingers trailing over the sliver of skin between your sweats and t-shirt before his arms come to rest around your waist, your back hitting his chest with the faintest rustle of clothing. his warmth becomes shared warmth, and your body naturally curves into his hold like two puzzle pieces finally slotted together to paint the portrait of unbothered tranquility.
his chin hooks over your shoulder and he gently noses into your neck. hello, he says, thumbs skimming over soft cotton made material and rubbing circles into your hips.
missed you, you reply, eyes closed, your hands moving to overlap his. three squeezes in an unspoken form of i love you that doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond, who hums and squeezes your sides in return.
it’s moments like this that you cherish the most with him. where pagers are silenced for a suspended minute in time. where the world is dimmed for a brief second, motionless in its repose, and didn’t need a hero. didn’t need him. here, the word was blissfully narrowed down to comfort in his arms and silent shows of gratitude, and it meant more to you than anything else.
“you smell good,” he mumbles into your shoulder. you feel the faintest bits of a smile against skin when your quiet laugh fills the air, squeezing you once more. “stop laughing.”
“you’re tired,” you offer instead, and he grows quiet, slowly picking your words apart. it’s an old habit of his, not one of your favorites much less, but you allow him to peer between the lines and search for any double meanings. it’s routine, no matter how many times you reassure him you don’t mean any harm, but it’s more for him for you, anyway. who were you to judge? “you came home later than usual.”
you worry for him, and he still has a hard time letting someone other than himself care for himself. it still prickles at his skin, makes him feel scrutinized. the feeling of being held under a lens returns, but he immediately squashes it out. they care, so you’re okay. it’s okay.
“patrol’s kickin’ my ass,” he sighs out after a moment, and the admission is a whole other feeling he has to process. opening up took ages, but somehow, you had the patience and.. understood that things like these were hard. and he couldn’t be more grateful. “..missed you, though.”
he sees your smile without even looking up. maybe powering through weird emotions was worth it if he got to see it over and over again.
“you’re a sap.”
“you’re hallucinating,” is his quick rebuttal, and he feels your smile grow even wider, and a foreign tug pulls at his heartstrings.
comfortable silence falls between the two of you once more. you can see the sun beginning to sink below the horizon through your little window to the outdoors. the faint smell of coffee lingers in the air. the trees stand sturdy and trustworthy as their branches sway freely to a tune only they can hear, and it strikes a weirdly familiar feeling, almost like déjà vu.
katsuki stirs slightly, so you wait. moments pass, and then:
“you feel like home.”
his few words are muffled into skin, but it’s clear enough to be heard in its sincerity. the thought alone is near tear inducing, and he pinches your sides gently to bring you back.
“lost you there,” he starts. nonchalance hangs heavy in his tone, but you know he’s waiting for a response. and so:
“you were already home.” it’s spoken just as soft and you wonder if you had even said anything at all, but he knows. he knows you, just like you know him. words have never been a strong suit for either of you, but it’s there. the connection exceeds the confines of words that can only speak on your behalf for so long.
you were already home, you’d said. and he knew you meant it, too.
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home, bakugou katsuki.
1.01k. fluff. sappy feelings and speaking through actions. pro-hero!katsuki. did i mention sappy feelings? this little guy is so important to me.
it’s warm at this time of night, the cool breeze through the open window providing just enough chill as to not be too overbearing. the curtains sway to and fro in its graceful dance with the wind. it’s light and curious, almost toying and catlike, and it’s entrancing.
the earth is still. no noise but the wind and its newfound partner, quiet sounds blending into the background. the coffee’s gone a tad bit lukewarm, and your phone lights up momentarily before slowly fading out.
you feel his presence before you see him.
katsuki bakugou is a plethora of surprises you’re still trying to figure out. gone is the boy who pulled pigtails and spoke with his fists — although a select few would disagree with this statement — and in his place, is acceptance. a gathering of discovering who he once was and emerging as something to be proud of. he’s still boyish grins and declarations of war and promised destruction to his path towards the glittering promise of success and fame that comes with japan’s number one are all still there, but there’s no denying the maturity steadily growing at the seams. unbridled anger has been confronted and recognized at last instead of being pushed to the side to fester at an alarming rate, his past catching up far too quickly than he would have time to prepare for, and it cost him.
it cost him a lot. far more than he would have realized. he doesn’t regret it though, and you’re proud of him.
a familiar warmth signals his arrival. heat spreads through your bones, unrelenting, and you lean into that feeling instinctively. a faint whiff of something sweet and a bit tangy fills the air, settling in with the heat, breathing in deeply the aroma of assured comfort and safety. exhaling slowly, you hum content, a soft sigh emitting past your lips as you set your mug down. the coffee’s no good now that it’s gone cold, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to make another.
fingertips graze over your skin and leave goosebumps in their wake, the pads of his fingers trailing over the sliver of skin between your sweats and t-shirt before his arms come to rest around your waist, your back hitting his chest with the faintest rustle of clothing. his warmth becomes shared warmth, and your body naturally curves into his hold like two puzzle pieces finally slotted together to paint the portrait of unbothered tranquility.
his chin hooks over your shoulder and he gently noses into your neck. hello, he says, thumbs skimming over soft cotton made material and rubbing circles into your hips.
missed you, you reply, eyes closed, your hands moving to overlap his. three squeezes in an unspoken form of i love you that doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond, who hums and squeezes your sides in return.
it’s moments like this that you cherish the most with him. where pagers are silenced for a suspended minute in time. where the world is dimmed for a brief second, motionless in its repose, and didn’t need a hero. didn’t need him. here, the word was blissfully narrowed down to comfort in his arms and silent shows of gratitude, and it meant more to you than anything else.
“you smell good,” he mumbles into your shoulder. you feel the faintest bits of a smile against skin when your quiet laugh fills the air, squeezing you once more. “stop laughing.”
“you’re tired,” you offer instead, and he grows quiet, slowly picking your words apart. it’s an old habit of his, not one of your favorites much less, but you allow him to peer between the lines and search for any double meanings. it’s routine, no matter how many times you reassure him you don’t mean any harm, but it’s more for him for you, anyway. who were you to judge? “you came home later than usual.”
you worry for him, and he still has a hard time letting someone other than himself care for himself. it still prickles at his skin, makes him feel scrutinized. the feeling of being held under a lens returns, but he immediately squashes it out. they care, so you’re okay. it’s okay.
“patrol’s kickin’ my ass,” he sighs out after a moment, and the admission is a whole other feeling he has to process. opening up took ages, but somehow, you had the patience and.. understood that things like these were hard. and he couldn’t be more grateful. “..missed you, though.”
he sees your smile without even looking up. maybe powering through weird emotions was worth it if he got to see it over and over again.
“you’re a sap.”
“you’re hallucinating,” is his quick rebuttal, and he feels your smile grow even wider, and a foreign tug pulls at his heartstrings.
comfortable silence falls between the two of you once more. you can see the sun beginning to sink below the horizon through your little window to the outdoors. the faint smell of coffee lingers in the air. the trees stand sturdy and trustworthy as their branches sway freely to a tune only they can hear, and it strikes a weirdly familiar feeling, almost like déjà vu.
katsuki stirs slightly, so you wait. moments pass, and then:
“you feel like home.”
his few words are muffled into skin, but it’s clear enough to be heard in its sincerity. the thought alone is near tear inducing, and he pinches your sides gently to bring you back.
“lost you there,” he starts. nonchalance hangs heavy in his tone, but you know he’s waiting for a response. and so:
“you were already home.” it’s spoken just as soft and you wonder if you had even said anything at all, but he knows. he knows you, just like you know him. words have never been a strong suit for either of you, but it’s there. the connection exceeds the confines of words that can only speak on your behalf for so long.
you were already home, you’d said. and he knew you meant it, too.
#if you think you’ve seen this before-you probably have haha#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou x y/n#bnha fic#bnha fluff#bakugou fic#bakugou fluff#boku no hero academia#bnha#bakugou katsuki
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just a girl rediscovering her love for writing.
main & follows from -> @katsdni . semi ia for finals .
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