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chubsonthemoon · 6 years

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to you, one year in the future

summary: Shopping for ugly sweaters, going on dates, remembering the past. Izuku loves him through it all.

pairing: midoriya izuku/todoroki shouto

words: 3783

also on ao3!

My piece for @natbrowniecupcakes for @tddkexchange! I hope you enjoy! <3

(also part of my Happy Holidays, Class 1-A series)

Izuku stares at the Christmas tree, biting his thumb. A nervous habit.

“Is everything alright?” asks a voice. Arms sneak around his waist, and a chin rests itself on the crown of his head. Izuku lowers his hands to place them on top of Todoroki’s, lacing their fingers together.

He sighs. “Yeah, it’s just…” He looks at the evergreen again. It is nothing overly grand or special, just a Christmas tree, sans ornaments or any other form of decoration. “Don’t you think it’s missing something?”

He turns to face his boyfriend, encircling himself in his arms. “I feel like it should be…I dunno. More Christmas-y? Like in the movies.”

Todoroki hums. “Really? I think it looks fine.” He buries his head further in Izuku’s soft curls, puffing a quiet sigh. “Besides, no one here really believes in the whole Jesus thing. It’s just for fun, I think.”

Izuku nods, taking care not to jostle too much, and he rests his head on Todoroki’s chest. This is nice. “Did you know that Christmas trees weren’t originally Christian? They’re actually Pagan. Decorating them originated in Germany.”

Todoroki’s face is still in his hair, so his words are muffled. “Is that so?”

Izuku traces a scarred finger along one of Todoroki’s wrists. “Yep. Learned it from that hero that debuted a few years back. Evergreen Enigma.”

“Nice.”

They stay like this for awhile, quietly listening to each other’s heartbeats.

Then, the silence is broken with a small explosion. “You two are fucking disgusting.”

“Bakugou, don’t be rude!” A light thump can be heard, followed by a lengthy string of expletives.

Todoroki’s head raises to observe the intruders, and Izuku reluctantly removes his head from Todoroki’s chest to peek around his shoulder. “Oh, hi guys! What’s going on?”

“Hey, Deku!” Uraraka says cheerfully. Bakugo shoots them a look that could curdle milk. “We’re decorating the tree for the party tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah!” Izuku says, remembering the text he had received yesterday. “Ugly sweater themed, right?”

Todoroki lets out an exhale of air that may or may not be a chuckle or an expression of confusion. Probably both. “A what?”

Uraraka nudges Bakugo forward, two boxes of tinsel and various ornaments floating beside her. “You heard me. Ugly sweaters. There’s gonna be a contest, and Aoyama’s judging it, so make sure you wear your worst.”

Izuku returns to his place underneath Todoroki’s chin. “Alright. We should probably go shopping for that today,” he says to Todoroki, sighing.

Bakugou lets another small explosion burst in annoyance. “Oi, you assholes are blocking our way to the tree. Get a room.”

“For once, I agree,” Todoroki deadpans.

Izuku just laughs. “Let’s go get our coats,” he says, unhooking his arms and ignoring Todoroki’s pout. He untangles himself from their embrace and heads for the elevators.

Todoroki sighs and trails behind, their pinkies still hooked together. “Meet me at the entrance?” Izuku asks, while they wait.

Todoroki presses a soft kiss to his temple, and Izuku feels himself smile. “Yes.”

A few minutes later, he rejoins Todoroki on the elevator, All-Might beanie secured firmly over his ears.

As they leave, they pass the common room again, and Izuku hears Uraraka sigh. “Ah, it’s hard to believe they’ve been together for almost a year already. Time sure goes by fast when you’re in love,” she says, voice dreamy.

Izuku blushes, and walks a little faster. Todoroki laughs quietly as he walks ahead to hold the door open for him, and a whoosh of cold air nearly drowns out the next part of the conversation.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” he hears from Kacchan next, sounding like his usual mix of annoyed and pissed off. “At least Half-N-Half found the guts to confess. When are you finally gonna woman up and ask Frog-Girl already? I get pissed off every time I’m in the same room as you two.”

“Bakugo!”

They exit the dorms, Uraraka’s flustered protests cut off as soon as they step into the whirling snow.

“Well, Kacchan certainly seems happy to be part of the organization process,” Izuku remarks. They walk towards the station, boots pressing prints into the snow behind them.

“He’s probably going to blow up the tree before we get back,” Shouto says wryly. Izuku giggles, white flakes tickling the tip of his nose. He sneezes.

Todoroki frowns at him. “Here,” he says, offering his right hand.

Izuku obliges, wrapping a mittened hand around Todoroki’s, sighing when the heat begins to seep into his palm. He shuffles closer, looping an arm around Todoroki’s waist. Together, they walk the rest of the way like this, and Izuku is eternally grateful for a boyfriend who doubles as a portable personal heater.

They board their train with no issues, finding seats together. At one point, Todoroki stands so an old lady can sit in his spot, ignoring Izuku’s protests to let him give up his own seat. When he sits back down, Izuku fills the space between them with chatter, about everything and nothing all at once; he’s excited about going home once break officially starts, he thinks the ugly sweater party will be lots of fun, despite Kacchan’s murderous tendencies towards all things festive (but maybe Kirishima-kun can get him to be excited!), oh, did you see the latest hero debut, Todoroki-kun? It was amazing, he hasn’t seen a water-manipulation Quirk used in such a way before in his life—

Todoroki simply nods every now and then, humming in assent to indicate he’s listening. The click-clack of the tracks reverberates throughout the car, setting a comfortable pulse to the flow of Izuku’s words and the beating of his heart. He pauses for a moment, eyes shifting to the calm expression on Todoroki’s face.

One year already, huh?

He thinks that he would very much like to kiss him.

The automated voice announces that their stop is next. Todoroki, sensing his gaze, looks up at him questioningly when Izuku’s words slow to a stop in time with the train.

Izuku shakes his head slightly, snapping out of it. “Nothing, sorry!”

He’ll find some mistletoe later.

“How about this one?” When Todoroki looks up from over his side of the clothing rack, Izuku raises a truly hideous sweater, a stained green color that clashes hilariously with his hair. It has an enormous Christmas tree splayed across the chest. “Ah, but wait,” he says, seeing Todoroki’s amused expression. “It gets better.”

With a quick flick of a small switch, the sweater lights up, the little bulbs on the tree flashing green and blue. “What do ya think?”

“It’s perfect,” Todoroki says approvingly. Izuku grins, then drapes it over his arm for safekeeping.

Overhead, tinny Christmas music plays in the store that sells second-handed clothing and other oddities. It’s a nice little place, with a number of interesting finds—like that vintage Pussycats t-shirt, or that limited edition Best Jeanist figurine— that could keep Izuku here for hours. However, they are here on a mission.

Izuku, having secured his own ugly sweater, begins the search for Todoroki’s.

“I’ve never been to an ugly sweater party before,” he says conversationally. He doesn’t need to look up to know that Todoroki is listening. “Kacchan’s family always had a Christmas get together when we were little, but—well. I stopped going at some point.” He slides the next set of hangers over, ignoring how they screech against the bar. “But the years we did go, it was so much fun. His dad always made the best hot chocolate, and we would watch All Might’s Christmas specials until midnight, waiting for Santa. One year, his dad actually did dress up as Santa to surprise us, but then he tripped over a plate of cookies when Kacchan freaked out and set his beard on fire.” He’s quiet for a moment, just remembering. “Those were fun days.”

Todoroki’s fingers suddenly still over his end of the clothing rack, as if remembering something.

The Christmas music continues overhead, and his next words are almost too soft for Izuku to catch. “That sounds…amazing.”

“What, you mean hanging with Kacchan on Christmas Eve?” Izuku laughs, but he stops the moment he looks up.

Todoroki wears a smile that is very small, like he tried it on and it didn’t fit quite right. It reminds Izuku of the time he saw him unfreeze Sero, in the Sports Festival arena, steam surrounding him, his back turned to the him.

He wants Todoroki to smile again, but he knows that shouting and punching his way there won’t work. Not this time.

He has an idea.

“Hey,” he whispers conspiratorially. When Todoroki looks up, he has composed himself, but Izuku knows the look hidden in his eyes all too well. He crouches low, wedging himself between the funky smelling second-handed sweaters and mothballs. Todoroki does the same, his expression confused, but he lowers himself to his knees meets Izuku halfway anyway.

They probably look like idiots, hiding here under the clothing rack, no doubt blocking the aisleways, but Izuku doesn’t really care at the moment. He gestures frantically for Todoroki to get closer, as if he has a secret to divulge.

“Yes?” Todoroki asks, his voice also a low whisper.

Izuku reaches out and places his hands, scarred and broken as they are, on both sides of Todoroki’s face. He burrows his fingers in the red and white locks, caresses the angry red scar on his left, gentle and unafraid. When Todoroki shudders slightly, rests his head on Izuku’s shoulder, Izuku says, “This year will be different, Shouto. I promise.”

He pulls away to see the thing in Todoroki’s eyes become less like a burden, and more like lightness, and behind that, gratitude.

Todoroki nods slowly, his mouth curving up just slightly. “Ok.”

Even though it’s dark and smelly here, and he’s pretty sure he felt something just brush past his cheek that is not supposed to be there, Izuku would rather be nowhere else.

Then, quick as lightning, he darts forward to press a feather-light kiss to Todoroki’s lips. Funnily enough, despite his Half-n-Half Quirk, both sides of his mouth are warm, beautifully so.

When Izuku pulls away, he grins shyly. “Just wanted to give that to you.”

Leaving Todoroki amongst the nether regions of the clothing rack, Izuku reemerges on the other side, feeling a little winded.

A second and a half later, Todoroki does the same, his hair mussed and the barest hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

Izuku flashes him another smile, then busies himself with the next set of hangers. “We are going to find you the ugliest sweater in this entire store,” he announces.

He picks the nearest random sweater he can find, and—it’s not bad, actually. He removes it from the rack to get a better look—it’s one of those knitted V-necks, patterned with blue-grey X’s, cuffed at the sleeves, and a collar puffed up at the back of the neck. It also smells suspiciously of smoke, but nothing a good cycle in the washing machine can’t fix.

In short, Izuku concludes, it is a sweater befitting a 50-year-old man.

Todoroki comes around the clothing rack and regards the article very seriously. “May I see it?” he asks. Izuku hands it over and Todoroki pulls his arms through the sleeves. He inspects himself for a moment, then after some deliberation, buttons the middle button. Task completed, he turns to Izuku. “Well?”

Izuku takes one look at him and groans loudly.

“Is it that bad?” Todoroki asks, bemused.

“No, no, it’s not that at all,” Izuku answers, hands buried in his face. He peeks through his fingers to take another glance, and—yep, he’s screwed. “It’s just…that’s like, something my grandpa would wear.”

Todoroki looks at himself again. “Yes, and?”

“You…you look…”

Todoroki raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“Ugh, you look really, really handsome, alright?” Izuku sighs, exasperated. “It’s unfair.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A pause. Izuku thinks his face is on fire.

“I like it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’ll take it.”

And with that, they leave the store, (not so) ugly sweaters in hand.

It’s Todoroki’s idea to take the detour.

“The plaza?” Izuku asks, once they’re waiting at the station. “Yeah, I’ve been there a couple times, but we never really shopped there often. Stuff’s kinda expensive downtown.”

“It won’t take long,” Todoroki promises, looking a little bashful.

Izuku smiles, hopelessly charmed. “No worries. If you want to go, then I do, too.”

They walk to the other side of the platform, waiting for the line that goes in the opposite direction. Once they board, Todoroki tugs Izuku along to a seat and sets their bags down at their feet. The doors close, and they’re on their way.

Izuku leans his head on Todoroki’s shoulder and watches the darkness of the tunnel give way to the lights of the city, blinking on one by one as night falls. The last traces of dusk are fading away in dying purples and inky blues.

A winter sky painted with sunset and a city of flickering lights. Izuku watches it all pass by, his hand in Todoroki’s, and breathes.

They exit at the stop Todoroki had indicated earlier and set off towards the plaza, feet crunching the snow as they draw nearer the glowing storefronts. They reach the center of the main courtyard—all fairy lights and bells that ring softly in wind—and Izuku stops dead in his tracks.

There, in the center of the whirling snow, among the laughter of children running about with their hats falling over their ears, their parents idly chatting near store windows, is an enormous Christmas tree.

His breath clouds in front of him as he takes it all in. The tree is lit aglow, with floating candles that gleam in the twilight, red and white ribbon winding gracefully up its branches—wait, now the ribbon is blue and silver, and now it’s gold?—and at the very top, so high he has to tilt his head, a crown of golden stars, shining so brightly that Izuku has to squint.

It is ethereal, a fairyland, a winter wonderland in the flesh. It’s beautiful.

Todoroki nods, and Izuku realizes that he had spoken aloud. He takes another step forward, eyes shining.

“How?” Izuku asks, awed. “How are the candles floating? How does the tree not burn down from the fire? How can the ribbon change colors like that? And those stars—oh my All-Might, those don’t even look like they’re from this planet! This is amazing!”

He looks at Todoroki for answers, but all he sees are wide eyes, watching him as if he is the one who is shining.

“Um,” Todoroki says, then shakes his head a little. “

It’s a collaborative effort, I think,” he begins again. He clears his throat and shifts his eyes hastily towards the magnificent tree in front of him. “The owners of the surrounding stores all come together to make it work: one person has a watered down version of Uraraka’s Quirk—levitation of small objects only, but for an indefinite time. Another can create some kind of substance that allows the tree to be fireproof, another can change the color of fabrics. As for the stars—"

He glances at Izuku for a moment. “Well. They say that the more you…care about someone, the more brightly they shine.”

He clears his throat again. “That’s what they say, anyway,” he says.

Izuku wants to ask just how, exactly, Todoroki knows about this place, how he seems to know it so well and yet shy away from the light, and, most importantly, why he sounds so sad when he looks around at a place that should bring joy and happiness.

He wants to ask, and he nearly does, but he senses that Todoroki’s not quite finished yet.

“My…my mom used to take me here. During the holidays,” Todoroki finally says, voice quiet. “When I was little, and…before.”

The noise from the square dies away, and all Izuku can hear, see, feel, is Todoroki. Todoroki, Todoroki, Todoroki. “Mmn.”

“I think I’m going to bring her here on Christmas Eve,” Todoroki whispers. “It’s been a long time.”

Izuku reaches for his hand, curls his fingers around Todoroki’s. “I think she would like that very much, Shouto.”

He hears Todoroki swallow, feels his pulse flutter under his fingertips.

“Me, too.”

For a few minutes, hand in hand, they watch the candlelight flicker and the slivers of color change from red and green, to blue and silver, to pure gold.

Somewhere, perhaps behind the plaza where more shops reside, rings a clock tower, every tone deep and resonating and a promise.

Night officially begins, the wind tosses snow drifts, the children play. Izuku turns slightly, and takes Todoroki’s other hand, their faces only inches apart.

“Merry Christmas, Shouto,” he says, then closes the gap between them.

He tastes snow and a hint of a smile.

The children point in wonder as the stars burst into a million sparks of light.

~ Once, a year or so ago, Izuku had woken up to snow on his window.

It had been sometime at night, when everything is still and quiet. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up, but he quickly stopped trying to remember, because he soon saw, outside his window: it was snowing.

“Wow,” he whispered, breath fogging up the glass.

His first thought was beautiful.

His second was Shouto.

He quickly felt his face warm a little. It wasn’t like his heart sped up whenever one of the most beautiful people in Class 1-A walked into the room before class, or he got all jumpy and nervous whenever he asked Izuku about Present Mic’s English homework during training. Todoroki was Todoroki, the strongest in their class, and no less than an amazing friend, whose eyes were really pretty and who had a nice voice and…

No, none of that.

So, he stared out the window and tried not to see snowy white hair and ice atop fingertips, strong and real but also fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

He watched the snow for one breath more before he bolted, scrambling off the bed and fumbling with the doorknob, down the hallway and skidding to a stop a few meters away.

He raised one hand, and, with the caution of someone who is aware that it was some unknown hour of the night and that the rest of the dorm was probably sleeping, quietly knocked.

There was a little bit of shuffling around from within, a padding of feet towards the door.

The door opened, and Izuku saw a sleepy Todoroki, mid-yawn. When Todoroki saw Izuku, however, he seemed to stand slightly taller, but maybe Izuku was just imagining it.

“Midoriya?” he asked.

Izuku opened his mouth. He had no logical reason for being there, he knew.

“It’s snowing, Todoroki-kun,” he said instead, slightly breathless.

Todoroki blinked, then turned to the closed curtains over his windows. “Really? That’s…wow.”

“Do you want to watch it with me?”

Todoroki turns back, his face half hidden in darkness, covering his scarred side. Izuku wanted to brush away the shadow, like it was something tangible. He wanted to see Todoroki’s eyes, the firm line of his mouth, which, if he was lucky, he sometimes saw curve up, usually when he thought he wasn’t looking—

“Yeah.”

Izuku felt something inside him turn into pure happiness. “Great.” It was only then that he realized that they were both whispering. “My room or yours?”

Todoroki said, “Yours,” and that was that.

Together, they tiptoed back to Izuku’s room, where the familiar silhouettes of All-Might figurines watched over grinned at them, as if he, too, were excited.

Izuku sat on his bed facing the window, legs crossed, and heard the soft sound of Todoroki shutting the door behind him. A second later, Todoroki joined him, the mattress dipping under his weight. After he got situated, facing the window just like Izuku was, it was silent.

Outside, the snow fell steadily, like it had all the time in the world. Since they were on the third floor, they could see the streetlights illuminating little flurries here and there, carrying schools of snow around and about, up and down, dusting the treetops and rooftops and sidewalks with sugar.

Izuku sighed contentedly.

“This is nice,” Todoroki said softly. Izuku turned to look at him.

He was looking out the window, his right side facing Izuku, a small smile on his lips. He blinked every now and then, turned his head, taking it all in. The curve of his back was more relaxed than Izuku had seen in weeks.

With a smile to himself, Izuku had turned back to the window. “Yeah.”

They sat like that for a few minutes, just watching the world build itself up in white.

“Midoriya.” Izuku sensed a question.

“Yes?”

There was a pause, quiet deliberation. Izuku waited patiently.

“Thank you.”

Whatever he had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. He breathed a little huff of nervous laughter. “Of course. Though, uh…for what?”

Todoroki looked away from the window to find green eyes already watching him curiously. “For waking me up.”

Izuku felt the earth tilt a little, and he remembered.

A shout, a fist, a punch. More shouting, a challenge, a promise.

And finally, finally, fire.

He moved his hand a little over to the left, the bedsheets warm and soft under his hand, (then) newly scarred from a battle neither would ever forget.

When his fingers brushed Todoroki’s hand, he stopped. He couldn’t see the way Todoroki’s eyes widened because he was facing the window, but he did hear the quiet intake of breath, felt the slight shiver that was probably because of the cold.

Probably.

When he had felt Todoroki’s fingers inch forward a little, moving to cover his own, he had smiled, and closed his eyes.

They woke up that morning with their legs tangled, their backs against the window, Izuku’s head on Todoroki’s shoulder. When he looked over, he saw Todoroki already awake, but he was not watching dawn break on the winter’s first snowfall.

(They later saw that it was beautiful, though).

His eyes were light, his smile unbelievably fond, and Izuku felt the tips of his ears heat slightly. He had tucked a curl behind his ear shyly, and squeezed Todoroki’s hand, because sometime through the night, they had found each other, and never let go.

One year later, somewhere in the city, Todoroki breaks apart slightly, and smiles as brightly as the stars.

“Merry Christmas, Izuku.”

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #tododeku #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #todoroki x midoriya #fic

15 notes · View notes

skiecas · 7 years

Text

fic: hopeless hearts just passing through

pair: bakugou ღ uraraka notes: a snapshot of an unexpected encounter. it’s early morning, and bakugou is surprisingly good company when the world is asleep.

☄

Uraraka shivers. If she’d known the forecast called for possible snow she would have layered better, rather than sneaking out of the dorm clad only in flimsy tights and an old T-shirt with one too many holes in it. She hadn’t noticed in motion, but a nearby convenience store had given her pause and now the frosty wind makes her teeth chatter against their will. She decides to make a quick stop after all, only to make use of the heater that was surely blasting inside.

An uninterested employee grunts a greeting from the counter without glancing up from his magazine, and Uraraka tries not to look too guilty as she pretends to browse down the aisle. Her fingers slowly defrost, turning pink at the tips.

Over the shelf, she thinks she spies something soft golden pass her by. But she thinks nothing of it.

Her stomach churns slightly to see the rows upon rows of packaged food laid out prettily before her, but she tampers down her longing. It was her birthday month and her parents had sent her an extra allowance to buy herself a present with, which she had gratefully set aside; a meager amount, but it was enough for a new pair of sneakers that she so badly needed. She glances down at the beat-up shoes on her feet. They had served her so well over the years, but had grayed long ago and were now starting to come apart at the seams.

She quickly decides to leave before she’s tempted further, or before the muscles she had so nicely warmed up from her jog relaxed completely. But something tinkles on the other side of the shelf, and she hears someone softly hiss under their breath, “Goddamn, fucking, stupid—”

Uraraka can’t help but giggle at the out of place language, but makes sure to peek around the aisle to check that the person was okay.

A young boy seems to have spilled his coins on the floor. She finds his cheek pressed to the tiles, as he reaches for whatever had slid under a giant crate of soda cans that the convenience store employee clearly had not been bothered to unpack. Uraraka realizes his soft golden hair earlier had not been a trick of the light after all.

Smiling to herself, she tip-toes closer. Checking furtively that the employee was still preoccupied with his magazine, she gently lays a palm flat against a piece of the crate. A moment later, it glides into the air—and an array of spilled coins come into view.

The boy startles. “The hell—?!”

Uraraka’s tinkling laugh dies in her throat when he whips his head around and his scowl is inordinately familiar.

“Bakugou?” she squeaks, and instantly loses control of her Quirk.

The crate comes crashing down with a deafening thud. Thankfully none of the cans topple off, but the floor definitely seems to shake. She nervously glances at the store employee, but he doesn’t even react, and she realizes belatedly that he’s wearing earphones.

“The hell, Uraraka? You almost took my arm off!” Bakugou hisses, getting to his feet and dusting off his sweatpants. He had narrowly pulled his arm away before the crate had crash-landed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she apologizes in haste, feeling mortified and very sincerely sorry. “I just wasn’t expecting to see someone I know! And I didn’t recognize you since you...”

Bakugou’s hair had never been so flat for as long as she’d seen it. It falls over his forehead in a long mess, and she’s surprised (though not at all surprised, really) to learn that his usual spiky do was a stylistic choice.

“Is your arm okay?” She takes hold of it delicately to check for any red marks, but he pulls it away before she’s barely touched it.

“I’m fine,” he scoffs, then quickly tacks on a halfhearted, “Stupid.” His fists jam into his pockets. “I’m no princess. Let’s go.”

She jumps. “But your coins! And you don’t have to hurry out on my account or anything—”

“They’re irrelevant, barely enough for a cup of coffee. And I’m not hurrying out, stupid.” He gets an almost intense sort of look about him, jaw locking into a stern scowl as he steps forward, and suddenly Uraraka finds herself caged to the cold, metal rack with Bakugou’s bicep pressing against her own, the soapy smell wafting from his hair suggesting that he was freshly showered. He mumbles, “I think I’ve found exactly what I came here for.”

Uraraka holds her breath, thinking not for the first time that Bakugou’s eyes were very, very intense.

Then he reaches around her head, and plucks a small box of energy bars off the shelf. “This is it. Let’s go.”

Uraraka breathes in and inwardly berates herself for being stupid, stupid, stupid as she sheepishly follows him to the counter. For two years she’s been losing her breath over Bakugou, feeling her heart flutter over Bakugou, and essentially getting her hopes up for nothing over Bakugou. At first she thought it had meant something that she was the only girl in their class he could stand to talk to for longer than five minutes, but then last year Aizawa-sensei had paired him with Yaoyorozu for a training session and it had stung to see them getting on so well. How stupid of her, indeed.

Lost in her thoughts, Uraraka realizes a bit late that the store employee has his eyes fixed on her, a troubled expression on his face. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and smiles up at him politely, albeit a bit confusedly. That seems to trouble him further.

Bakugou scowls, then suddenly swings an arm around Uraraka’s neck, bringing her closer to his side. Curiously irritated, he huffs, “Can’t you see she’s with me?”

Uraraka squeaks, and pleads with herself over and over, Don’t turn red, don’t turn red, do not turn red!

The employee coughs, hiding a sudden smirk. “Sure you’re not holding her prisoner there, Katsuki-kun?”

She startles to realize they know one another.

Bakugou angrily grabs his purchase, slams down his payment, and struts out of the store with Uraraka still under his arm. She puts up a bit of a fight, embarrassed by her resulting awkward waddle, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The store employee looks amused by the display for a brief moment, before returning to his magazine.

“I-Is he a friend of yours?” she coughs, once she’s free.

Bakugou turns on her, hotly jabbing a finger to her forehead. “Are you stupid or something! Why are you using your Quirk in public?”

She blinks innocently. “But you do it all the time?”

"’Cause I don’t care about the law and shit! It’s a stupid law anyway! But you—!” He jabs a finger to her forehead again, and she pouts. “You tryna get arrested first thing in the morning?”

“No one saw anyway!” she argues. She had just been trying to help.

Bakugou glares at her defense, then informs her through gritted teeth, “That guy’s got the Third-Eye Quirk, dumbass. He can see things without looking.”

Various oddities click into place, and Uraraka realizes all at once that the boy had not looked up when she had entered the store despite greeting her, and had not reacted to the crashing crate at all even though it had made such a commotion. He had seen everything, including her using her Quirk when she was prohibited to do so.

She flushes sheepishly at her poor judgment, and Bakugou takes it to mean she’s realized her mistake.

“Count yourself lucky you know me. That guy’s not gonna go blabbing to the cops if he doesn’t want me showing up and blowing up the whole goddamn place.”

Uraraka thinks the boy’s brotherly smile towards Bakugou has more to do with his compliance in the matter rather than actual fear, but she wisely chooses not to say a word. Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ear, eyelashes fluttering, and smiles sweetly up at the boy who had stuck up for her. “Thank you for helping me, Bakugou.”

He tenses, like a kitten who had accidentally dipped his toe in cold water and raised his fur in retaliation, before gruffly shoving his hands into his pockets. The shopping bag around his wrist crashes against his leg as he stomps off. “I-I didn’t do it for you, dumbass. Don’t misunderstand, stupid, round-face, gravity girl! It’d just be a pain runnin’ into the cops this fucking early.”

Uraraka laughs and runs until she falls into step beside him, deciding this would be the end of her jog. He doesn’t seem to mind her tagging along.

“Do you run into the cops a lot, then?”

“They’re the ones who got a problem with me!”

She has an inkling once again that that’s not exactly the case, though she keeps the thought to herself. But she can’t resist humming low, a smile twitching for a chance to break out on her lips, and it rubs him all the wrong way.

“What the hell’re you doing all the way out here with nothing on in the winter anyway?” he demands, crabby as can be. Bakugou’s not got on much either, just some faded sweats and his usual tank top, but Uraraka’s never seen him bothered by the cold before.

“Well... I was just out jogging, trying to clear my head. Bakugou, do you live around here then?” She had made it rather far during her run without realizing it, and to see Bakugou here was also proof; he had left to visit home a couple days ago, and this was the first they had seen of each other since—she really had not been expecting him at the convenience store.

Bakugou just gives a noncommittal grunt.

So Deku must have lived nearby as well, she realizes, but she was wise enough not to voice it aloud. Over the years she had realized Bakugou wasn’t volatile if you gave him no reason to be, or perhaps he had matured enough to become that way. Some of their rowdier peers had made a sort of game out of it, daring each other to push his limit, but Bakugou had either grown softer with time or had actually become fond of their classmates—in any case, there had been significantly less explosions since the new year.

Something tinkles, once again, and Uraraka is curious to see they’ve stopped in front of a vending machine and that Bakugou’s angrily rustling through his pockets.

“Umm,” she pipes up quietly, and pulls out a small pile of coins from her own pocket. His raised, questioning brow has her flushing. “I know you said to leave them, b-but it just didn’t seem right to leave perfectly good coins lying there. This-this isn’t all of them! But I picked up just a few for you, I thought they might be useful...”

He swipes them wordlessly and jams them into the slot with rather intense purpose, procuring one warm can of instant coffee, and then snorts, “See? Barely enough for one damn cup.”

Uraraka watches with interest as he gives the machine three punches, and then one swift kick to the side strong enough to make it rattle. It whirs softly, and then there’s a muted thunk to signify another can’s dropped into the hatch. Bakugou pulls out the second can of instant coffee with a self-satisfied smirk. “Learned how to do that when I was nine.”

Uraraka frowns. “I don’t know if we should be doing this. Isn’t it kind of like, I mean, stealing?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, pressing one into her hand. “Then you have the one we paid for. Goddamn.”

He plops down on a nearby bench, legs spread, and loudly pops open the can to take a swig. When she doesn’t immediately join him, he gives an impatient kick to the dirt space beside his foot. Uraraka considers the warm coffee slowly defrosting her fingers, and Bakugou’s side profile as he looks up distractedly at the brewing, grey snow clouds. She quickly takes the seat next to him, legs tucked together, and delicately opens her coffee so it would not spill.

“Ahhh, that feels so nice!” she exclaims after her first sip. “I feel like a tin-man right after getting an oil change.”

He scoffs, though not completely unkindly, and she wonders if that’s just his version of a laugh. Lately there had been less of his maniacal laughter from the old days. A lot of things were changing, lately, though the most daunting was their impending graduation in just a few months’ time—that had been causing changes in a lot of people. (Uraraka can’t remember the last morning she had woken up not in a cold sweat and had to run until her legs ached just to numb her anxious thoughts).

They sit quietly but amiably enough for some time, until those same thoughts from that morning begin to fester again the longer they do not speak. Uraraka bites her lip, unable to stand the silence.

“Bakugou?” she begins hesitantly, tracing the rim of her can. “I was just wondering something. Don’t... don’t you worry sometimes, about what it’ll be like after graduation?”

His swift and assured ‘no’ is so expected of him that she almost breathes a sigh of relief.

“But what if you can’t make it as a hero? Don’t you think about things like that at all?”

“The fuck you mean by that?” he demands, taking offense. His hair almost raises on end, as he scowls at her. “You callin’ me weak? Need me to blow up some more damn rocks for you to understand my power?”

“Geez, I didn’t mean it like that!” she whines, unfazed by his usual temper. “I just meant, like, what if” —she swallows, the sound inaudible— “what if you can’t save someone in time, and they die?”

“So? People die all the time.” His matter-of-fact tone takes her aback. Bakugou tightly closes a fist, and glares down at it as his knuckles turn white under the strain. “My job’s to defeat the villain before they get to any more.”

Uraraka shakes her head. It’s such a different philosophy than the ones around her. Mina, she knew, just last month, had needed to be soothed from fretting herself into a panic attack, and everyone in their class had been quieter lately than usual. Tsuyu had even come to her with some of her worries. All Might, according to Deku, had said this was normal behavior come this time of their schooling; everyone was itching to prove themselves, yet could not help but wonder what kind of hero they would become, the kind of name they would make for themselves.

But Bakugou has always, always stayed so self-assured. She’s awed, but more than anything, she’s envious.

“What, you worried about someone dying on your watch?” Bakugou wonders, as if it just now occurs to him why she might have asked in the first place. “Go be a damn doctor, then, if that’s the kinda change you wanna make in the world. I’m out there to defeat villains, not drive myself crazy by keeping a body count.”

“...Bakugou, you really do sound like a villain sometimes,” Uraraka laughs, but she stares up at the same sky he had been looking at, and she thinks she understands. A hero couldn’t always save everybody, but they could make the world safer for those who were still living.

“Shut up, gravity girl,” he retorts, then crushes up his can and tosses it into a nearby bin. “I’m outta here.”

Uraraka startles. She hadn’t expected him to finish his coffee so soon when she was only halfway through her own. She panics when he gets to his feet, and lurches forward without thinking, to grab onto the back of his T-shirt. He looks back, surprised.

“Well, I just—I mean—” She struggles to think of an excuse, to get him to stay. Because she kind of likes Bakugou in the early morning, with his hair still damp and limp over his forehead, his laughter harsh but with concealed kindness, sipping coffee together side-by-side on a seat beside him that he had offered her. Bakugou like she has never known him before.

“Aren’t you going to offer to walk me back to school?” she finally asks, all innocently fluttering lashes and flushed cheeks.

He stares at her incredulously, almost making her squirm under the intense look, before finally snapping, “The hell? Are you a hero or aren’t you?”

She’s stunned for just a beat, the words hanging heavy over their heads. But then, even though a storm cloud rumbles up above them, a bright and delighted sort of smile splits across Uraraka’s face.

Bakugou yanks himself free and stomps off without much fanfare, all the while muttering to himself under his breath, “Damn woman, always smiling, what is there to always be so damn smiley about...?”

Uraraka picks up her can of coffee and leisurely starts in the other direction, occasionally peeking back over her shoulder even though all she can see is soft golden hair in the distance.

Dummy, she thinks, affectionately. I don’t need you to protect me from danger. I just wanted you to stay with me a bit longer.

a/n: hi ok so the idea with that last scene is that bakugou misunderstands and thinks uraraka means won’t you walk me back bc it’s dangerous to be out here alone so he’s thinking, the hell, what does uraraka need to be protected for?? she’ll be fine on her own

and uraraka realizes where his mind went so even though she’d just wanted him to be a freaking gentleman and offer to walk her to school, she’s also really happy bc he obv thinks highly of her and also he assuaged one of her worries about becoming a hero soon

so yeah i hope you enjoyed. this was my first ever bnha and kacchako fic so please be kind? maybe? ok bye /w\

#fic #bnha #kacchako #this is just something to help me break into writing for the ship #as always #i'm kinda worried i made bkg too gentle but then again that's kinda the point of the fic so idk idk

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towncalledkingdom · 7 years

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The first time I rebelled I was thirteen. I waited until I heard my father’s snores from the bedroom and saw the final light go out. Eleanor walked in through the dark, as she always did, to stand over us for a few minutes to make sure we were sleeping. My little brother’s breath whistled in and out of a nostril. I did not attempt to fake sleeping noises. Instead, I did what I always did. I kept my mouth shut and made sure not to move my eyes behind my eyelids. The hyperconsciousness of my facial muscles always made me nervous. I fought to keep the tension from my jaw.

Eleanor stood there for a long time, giving me the distinct impression that she was considering taking my life. Finally she turned and left, leaving the door open behind her. Footsteps. The bedroom door at the end of the hall opened and closed. I continued to wait. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty. The door opened and shut once more, quieter this time, confirming my theory that Eleanor had been attempting to lure out any stray children that might be waiting for her to enter her bedroom. That was the trick with her- you could never stop playing her game. You had to be forever one step ahead, forever planning for the next layer of danger.

I waited another hour and then crept silently out my window into the chilly night. I shouldn’t have left, really. What I wanted wasn’t worth risking Eleanor’s wrath should I be discovered missing. I had sewn a secret pocket into the inside of my pants, a place to stash items I feared she might take from me. Needless to say I never washed these pants. I put them with the rest of my dirty clothes and removed them just before wash day. Three Phylla Fighter cards wrapped in protective plastic tapped lightly against my leg as I crept into the trees. I was continuously glancing back at the house, ears straining for the slightest indicator of trouble.

There was a little cave I had discovered just beyond the edge of the forest near our house. It’s entrance was in the side of a large hill, almost entirely concealed by an outcropping of rock. What appeared to be a thin crack in the stone veered off sharply toward the back, opening into a chasm only accessible by a small body. This is where I stashed my treasures.

I stopped midway into squeezing into the crack when a sound spooked me. A voice was coming from inside.

“I can’t believe it’s really you!” whispered the voice urgently.

“I can’t believe you found us. What on earth are you doing here?” whispered another. This voice I recognized. I pushed myself the rest of the way in, stumbling as my foot stuck in the narrow cleft in the floor.

The first speaker let out a startled yelp as I tumbled in. The second voice was unforgiving. “What are you doing here?” It demanded.

“Madison, please, I didn’t know you guys knew where I was putting my things,” I said. She stared at me blankly, illuminated by a dim lantern she held. “Your things?”

“Nevermind,” I stammered. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“I asked you first.”

I sighed. Madison Washington, my stepsister, had only traces of her mother’s fierce features. The sharpening at the edges of her eyes, and the way her brow quickly sunk when she was about to make demands was all Eleanor. Her dark skin, curls, and ability to smile without being terrifying must have come from her father.

A girl I had not met stood next to Madison. She was short and wore an enormous pair of circular glasses edged in thick white plastic. A tangle of curls spilled from the top of her head, bouncing as she glanced between Madison and I. A heavy backpack rested at her feet, torn in several places and covered in bits of bark and dead leaves. She flashed me a nervous smile. “Hello, cousin!” she ventured, reaching out a hand.

I stared at it, unable to register the greeting. “Hello,” I managed with a nod. She left her hand in the air.

I looked at Madison. She looked at me like I was an idiot. “It’s called a handshake,” she said, slowing the syllables around “handshake” to make sure I felt adequately stupid. “Polite people shake it.”

I blushed furiously and shook the girl’s hand, wiping the sweat on my pants as soon as I let it drop. “I, uh. I need to hide something in here,” I said. “Close your eyes!”

Madison rolled her eyes but raised a hand to her face. “Fine. You have thirty seconds.” The other girl made no move to cover hers.

I scrambled over behind a large rock, located a smaller rock and moved it aside. Beneath it a hole had been stuffed full of plastic bags and oddities. I placed my new treasure directly in the center, hoping to reduce the odds of moisture damaging the cards. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew they would be destroyed anyway.

I began to rise and was startled off of my feet as I came face-to-face with the girl. Her eyes shone in the dark. “Trading cards?” she asked.

“Shhh! Just stay away from my stuff." She pushed past me, ignoring my indignant protest, and moved the rock that hid my treasures.

She sat down, butt right in the dirt, and began rummaging through it all. "What's this?" she asked, holding up a poorly drawn sketch of a scantily clad woman.

My face felt so hot it could steam. She didn't wait for an explanation, just laughed and put everything neatly back in it's place. Madison approached slowly and put a firm hand on my shoulder. "My mom can't know she's here," she ordered. "If you tell her I will make sure you never see your things again." I knew she was telling the truth.

"Yeah, ok. I won't tell her. But what's going on here?" I turned to the girl, who still sat on the ground. "Who are you and how do you know Madison?"

She laughed. "I'm the only person who kept looking for Aunt Washington and her kids after they disappeared," she said proudly. "Everyone gave up the search just a couple of weeks after they went missing. They didn't even want to drive on Sherwood Road."

"So how did you get here? There's no way you're older than me and Madison. What, they let kids drive those deathmobiles now?"

The girl grinned. "No, no one 'let' me borrow their car to hunt down my missing cousins. But I didn't really ask them."

I gaped at her. She rose to her feet. "Madison tells me we're related now. I think I'm going to stick around for a while, probably stay here in the cave until I can figure out a better place to sleep. A couple of people around Town Square told me some places. There's a really great neighborhood you can move into if you have money, but I don't. Some kid with a guitar said that if you go to this old town a person there will make you a citizen and you can go to school."

Madison turned her iron gaze to the girl. "Don't go to Morty's," she commanded. "If my mom sees you around she'll make sure your life is hell."

The girl nodded, "No worries. I'll keep to myself."

I kicked a pebble toward my hidden stash. "You can have the trading cards," I said awkwardly. "I'll see if I can get some better ones for you at school."

The girl beamed, "Come back and visit, maybe I can trade you something cool for them."

Madison slapped her forehead, "Damn, we need to go home," she said, panic rising in her voice. "We can't be gone at the same time." She clenched her jaws and muttered to herself as she pulled me toward the cave entrance. "Fashi, I'll come back as soon as I can. Stay out of sight and make sure you find something to eat. It might be a little while before I see you again."

Fashi gave a sarcastic salute, but her eyes were laden with concern, "Be careful," she said. "I'll be fine."

...

I rushed from the cave behind Madison, sweat already making my scalp itch. "You shouldn't have left," she snapped at me. "Shit! What are we going to do?"

"We can just sneak back in through the window," I said, still feeling like I'd missed something in her words.

She stopped suddenly and I collided into her. A light shone from my bedroom window, casting the long shadow of a woman out onto the grass. We heard her accusations from where we stood. I crept closer and peeked inside.

Eleanor was dragging my little brother bleary-eyed from his bed. It didn't look like he was awake enough to follow her tirade. "Where did they go?" she screamed, putting her face inches from his. "Where did they go?"

The louder her voice went, the harder my brother's eyes became. The lines of rage deepening on his face were far too permanent for an eleven-year-old. She continued to berate him for several minutes as his hatred for her mounted. She reached an arm back as if to strike him. He shoved himself free, throwing Eleanor off balance as she shrieked. His hands flew to protect his face, muscle memory in overdrive. My father stood in the doorway, arriving just in time to see his son shoving his wife to the ground. He grabbed my brother bodily from the ground, smacking him hard on the bottom and carrying him to the front door. He threw him out into the night, grabbing the worn shovel from where it hung on the wall and throwing it out after him. "I want a hundred for this."

Outrage flashed across my brother's face, welling up and pouring from his bloodshot eyes. My father's face was pitiless. "One hundred." he repeated. Throwing the shovel over his shoulder, the eleven-year-old boy marched off into the night, leaving behind the family that had never wanted him in the first place.

"You other two better be able to hear me right now!" my father bellowed from the doorway. "I'm going back to sleep now. If you aren't here when I wake up you might as well just not come back." Eleanor approached him, stammering something about searching for us. He gave her a withering glare, jaw jutting forward in rage. "Are you happy now?" he demanded.

She raised an indignant hand to her chest. "You're blaming me for this?" she cried. He ignored her and walked back toward their bedroom.

"I've had enough for tonight," he said, deflated.

Eleanor changed tactics, "I'm sorry you had to see that. I've been trying to get him to behave but you saw how he treats me." She followed him into the bedroom, casting a final glance out into the night before closing the door behind her.

...

Eleanor made a big breakfast for us the next morning. Roland and our oldest brother ate silently, eyes fixed on their steaming plates as if to avoid being lured into conversation. My father shared their blank stares, cutting angrily into his food but avoiding eye contact. Eleanor searched our faces, a predator poised for a vulnerable moment. When neither Madison nor I took the bait she cleared her throat. "I don't want you two sitting next to each other," she said.

"What?" I asked.

"One of you needs to switch seats so you aren't together," she clarified.

Roland was already on his way over, dropping into Madison's seat just as she scrambled out of the way. She took her plate to my little brother's empty chair and sat down.

"I'm taking you to the Apothequarium," she said, pointing a raised fork at Madison. She turned to me, "and you aren't to speak to her any more."

"How am I supposed to do that?" I sputtered, "We live in the same house!"

"I don't care," said Eleanor, "If I see you speaking to her I will make you hate your life."

"I already do," I thought.

#dream transmission #watchmans log #atck #fashi #mantis #watchman #Roland #eleanorsucks #gravedigger #stoneface

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