bnhangel4

summary: random texts between you and your loving husband izuku

!!: pro hero!reader, teacher!izuku, nsfw-ish, cursing

a/n: i love this sweet guy so much bro i want to impregnate him

Pairing: Timeskip!Pro Hero!Izuku Midoriya/Deku x girlfriend!Pro Hero!reader

Genre: Fluff

WC: 1,748

Fanfiction Masterlist

MHA Izuku x Reader ・❥・When you tell Izuku you want a baby with him, he practically short-circuits.

Part of MHA: Baby Fever

The apartment smelled faintly of miso and laundry detergent, the kind of soft, domestic comfort Izuku had secretly always dreamed of. A half-finished hero analysis notebook lay open on the coffee table beside a bowl you’d both scraped clean. All Might’s smile beamed down from the poster above the couch, a steady lighthouse for Izuku’s heart whenever patrols ran long or doubts ran loud.

You’d been quiet tonight. Peaceful quiet, not the heavy kind, curled into his side while the TV murmured about some local neighborhood clean-up on mute. Izuku had one arm draped around you, thumb tracing absent-minded circles over your shoulder as he skimmed notes he’d written in a hurried scrawl earlier: new rescue harness placements, patrol route redundancies, a reminder to call his mom tomorrow.

“Hey,” you said, voice a little drowsy. “I want a baby with you.”

The pen slipped from his fingers and pinged off the table.

Izuku froze, eyes going comically wide. “A—ba—ba—ba—” He made a sound that wasn’t a word, then slapped his palm over his mouth, took a breath, and tried again. “A… baby? With… me?” The last word tilted up like a question that had just grabbed him by the collar and shook.

𝓉he language of 𝒻lowers ♡ 𝒾zuku 𝒎idoriya gn!reader, 𝓯luff, 𝓶asterlist　❀ ִ ִ

I’ve been thinking a lot about newlywed husband Izuku who brings you a bouquet of flowers almost every week. He skips a week here and there and never chooses the same weekday twice on purpose, because in his logic, that’s how he can still surprise you, even if bringing you flowers has already become one of his tender little routines, a habit that expresses his love.

He always buys them from a small family-run flower shop on his way home from work. They surprisingly have a very diverse selection, and the elderly lady who works there always greets him with a warm smile, along with her little granddaughter who takes her “job” very seriously and always leans over the counter to offer her best opinions on which wrapping paper is the cutest and matches the flowers better. By now, they consider him one of their favorite regulars — Eri loves when Mr. Midoriya shows up. — Grandma always tells him she admires how gentle and thoughtful he is, and that his wife must be amazing too, judging by the way he talks about you, with so much love in his eyes and admiration in his tone, always reminding him that he should never let someone like you slip away, to keep nurturing your young love with patience and care, so it can keep blooming.

"Just like Ojii-chan and Obaa-chan!" Eri always adds, making her grandma smile softly, lost in a few fond memories.

Izuku even bought beautiful vases to keep on the kitchen table and in the living room, so the flowers can brighten up the house as well. And they’re never just any flowers, never bland, never hollow, never empty of meaning. He used to be a bit of a flower-language enthusiast, so he loves putting that knowledge into practice when choosing each flower species for the bouquets. They can range from the simplest and most common ones to a bit more lush varieties, but always chosen with intention, he wants them to mean something, to carry something deeper and not just the gesture of giving you flowers itself.

He likes to attach post-its to the bouquet’s wrapping, with the name of each flower, what they represent and a message. Sometimes they hint at something that happened during the week, and other times, they’re sweet and short declarations of love — not always that short, actually. —

“Canterbury bells. They symbolize gratitude and steady, enduring love. Hydrangeas are for understanding. Thank you for bringing me my lunch at work when I forgot it at home… even after you reminded me twice not to leave it on the table before heading out. And thank you for doing the laundry for me this entire week too, even though it was supposed to be my task, because you were busy with other things. I’ve been in my head a lot lately and kept forgetting things. You were exhausted too and yet I didn’t hear a single complaint from you. I’m sorry, my love. Thank you for being so understanding and patient with me. I love you :( Love, your Izuku." and more, so always make sure to read the small notes !

𝓵otu’s notes 💬 btw !! let me know in the comments what are your favorite flower species! I think they’re ALL just so beautiful that im almost incapable of choosing .. I recently bought a really beautiful and very detailed book about the language of flowers, and since then I just haven’t been able to get this hc out of my head. thank u for reading ♥︎ 𝒻ic 𝓇ecs

© theetheralone please, do not copy, modify, or repost without permission. reblogs and likes are so, so much appreciated —they almost get me exploding in genuine happiness—

takes place after this series! :)

happy birthday bakugou!! 🥳

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9!

THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR READING!!! and double triple quadruple thank you if you read the one shot!! it’s abt 3.5k words

the next morning

You were awake before you opened your eyes. Your eyelids felt as though an outside force was squeezing them together, far too tightly to attempt to peel them apart just yet.

On top of that, your mouth was dry, almost sore in its need for water, and your head felt dazed and fuzzy in a woozy way. It was all in a manner you were frequently greeted by upon waking up; like many weekend mornings, you were hungover. (Most would argue that you, and a select few of your friends, drink and party far too often, but you never really cared enough to change that.)

Your nose, however… smelt an all too familiar scent. One of your favorite ones, in fact. Yet, not one that you often wake up to when in this state.

It was that of Katsuki Bakugou’s bedroom, of course. Of his sheets. Of him.

The boy you had been best friends with for the majority of your life.

The boy you had feelings for for most of that time.

And, of course, the boy you had been hooking up with for over a year now.

That ordeal started when a casually pissed off play fight turned a little too breathy and intimate, and led to an unexpectedly heated kiss that exploded with the unrealized tension that had built up between you over the years. So then, of course, said kiss led to a full-on make-out. It probably would have gone further, as it did in most every instance after the fact, had he not stopped for clarity’s sake.

(He abruptly yanked his body backward, dropping the hands that he had snaked underneath your shirt and around your waist as he pulled his now slightly swollen lips off of your own.

In tandem with his movements, your hands instinctively retreated from their place tangled up in his hair and moved to replace his hold on your waist, albeit much more nervously than his previous confident hold.

He looked at you with an expression you had never once seen him wear.

And it terrified you.

You had just made out with your long-term crush. Who was also your best friend. Who now looked like that— and you did not want to get your heart broken. So, you quickly got ahead of it, without thinking too hard about your words as you did, only mindlessly attempting damage control on your feelings-revealing actions.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That- That was really weird and- and stupid,” you started, immediately breaking eye contact and staring at his slightly heaving chest instead. “I don’t- I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why I did that. Hormones and shit, I guess, you know?” you lied, trying as hard as you could to have it come off as just the awkward truth as if it weren’t the farthest thing from it. You could only hope that your clear nerves came off as the right amount to be appropriate to the situation, and they weren’t enough to raise any suspicions. “I’m sorry.”

He could tell that you were sorry.

That was pretty much all that he could pick up from you, though; he was equally as clueless as you. So he went with that.

“…Don’t be. If you got something to be sorry for, so do I,” he easily rationalized, to which your eyes remained nervously fixed on his chest, and you nodded slowly. “But- yeah. Obviously just fuckin’ hormones and shit. It’s not like-”

Your eyes then betrayed you, flicking up to his even though you weren’t ready for it. And you regretted it, as you still weren’t sure what to make of the look in his own. They bore into yours intensely as they reconnected.

“It’s not like I like you or whatever the fuck.”

He saw something flash on your face that he’s never seen before, and he almost regretted his words. But he wasn’t sure what the look meant, so he wasn’t sure if he should.

“I don’t even have any time for that kinda shit anyway,” he pointedly added, because it just felt right to say.

“Right. Yeah. Same,” you said simply with a short nod, proud of the way your voice didn’t falter. Because, on the inside, it felt like you were being torn to shreds.

It’s not like I like you was ringing in your ears painfully. You were cursing yourself out for ever even slightly believing otherwise could be true.

However, an ounce of hope was still buzzing within you, fighting to hold on to anything— and you did have something to hold on to.

You just made out. And, feelings aside, he was clearly into it. He’s still a boy, after all. And you… don’t think you’re unattractive, at least.

“But, I mean, that was kinda… fun,” you pushed yourself to say before you could overthink it, and you watched, hope increasing, as his brows shifted up a little at your words.

He stared, thinking.

“Yeah,” he then said, a little awkwardly, but your heart spiked at his agreement.

“We could… do it some more,” you said in a half-playful tone with a small shrug.

He thought with a pensive look for what felt like far too long before, fortunately, a smirk slowly took over his features.

He reached a hand forward to grab your chin as he leaned back in, and your own smile pulled itself together.

And that was that.)

Now, here you were, freshly awake and hungover and momentarily warmed by the realization of your place in the blonde’s bed, snuggling further into his pillow that was tucked beneath your head.

Until, of course, you quickly recalled, though not in precise detail, the previous night’s events that led to you being in this position.

The texts you had drunkenly and pathetically sent him.

His terse and vague responses, each of which prompted another drink out of you.

Your terribly desperate reactions.

The way that you could see, even through your drunken haze, that his face and his tone and his movements were far more careful and tender than you had ever seen when he found you amongst the crowd at the bar of the club you frequented and dragged you out by his side to his car.

The way that the silence was thicker than ever, veering on the edge of something that felt rather terrifying but equally exhilarating.

The way that he held you with arms that simply felt different, almost more protective, than usual when you wordlessly curled into him to fall asleep.

Unless, that is, you were simply too enamored with the boy and overly hopeful and drunk, and all you were sensing the night before was the pity he felt over the rejection he knew was coming your way. God, already, you were losing the hope the intoxicated version of yourself felt— because that must have been all that it was, right?

Your heartbeat sped up, and your eyes shot wide open.

Unfortunately, before you had a chance to really process or prepare for a single thing, you were immediately greeted by the sight of Katsuki sitting up and leaning towards you, staring into your eyes intently.

“Jesus,” you said, voice groggy, as you jumped a little.

You took the scare as an opportunity to act normally.

“Creepy much?” you sleepily quipped. You hoped your tiredness was effectively covering up your nervousness.

He laughed a little, a small and Katsuki-like thing.

“Not my fault your alcoholic ass slept in so late. Nothin’ to do but wait for you,” he said with an equally small smile, his voice chill and easy, like he didn’t feel the weight of the air anywhere near as heavily as you did.

You, however, could hardly bear it.

Usually, even when drunk, your muscle memory always succeeds in tucking your phone under your pillow when going to sleep. You hoped that would remain the case as you shifted away from him and his eye contact in order to reach under and feel around for it. Luckily, as you half-sat up while looking for it, you felt the thing, and immediately yanked it out to put in front of you and use as a further distraction and a way to prolong the confrontation you knew had to happen soon.

7:09 AM, read the time.

“What the hell? I didn’t sleep in late at all, you damn liar,” you said as your hand with the phone flopped down in tired exasperation, letting go of the object as it did.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Maybe I’m just impatient,” he admitted, to which you finally smiled a little at.

Until that smile swiftly faded when you realized what it was he was impatient over: setting you straight.

Restating and emphasizing what he’d said all that time ago.

He doesn’t like you like that. He doesn’t have time for you like that.

You knew this. You’ve known this. Why would it be any different now?

As you moved to properly sit up, you felt his eyes pour over you. You felt them too much, and it was making you become impatient as well. Your heart felt like it was becoming more fragile with each second, and you just wanted to go ahead and get this over with already.

“How bad’s your hangover?” he asked.

Simply. Harmlessly. Caringly.

But the thing was, you didn’t know if you wanted him to care. Not right now. Not about this.

Of course, truly, you absolutely did, but you just knew that he couldn’t care in the same way that you did, in the way that you would want him to. So, if he was going to split your heart in two, you didn’t want him to let you down easily. You wanted him to be angry and harsh. You wanted him to rip it apart and out of your chest altogether and all at once. That seemed easiest. Because if you could just see how little this– you, you tell yourself– meant to him, then maybe it wouldn’t mean so much to you either.

Maybe it wouldn’t wreck you as much as a gradual decline would, so that, just maybe, you could get over this faster afterward.

But no. Here he was, right off the bat, taking your heart into consideration and being as gentle as he was capable of being with it: calmly staring at you as you slept peacefully and then easing you awake with sweet words, before breaking the bad news that you already sensed was coming.

You couldn’t handle this.

You wished last night was just a dream, that you weren’t here right now, that you two could just continue on how you were without your dumb, unwanted feelings messing anything up.

But it was too late. Here you were, insides churning, as he asked nothing but a soft question.

One that you begrudgingly wrung out an answer to in your mind. But when you tried to actually say it, you found that you couldn’t get your mouth to move.

Could be worse, you said in your head. Over and over, trying to spit it out, but hearing nothing every time.

You finally felt your lips move, but not at all in the way that you wanted— Suddenly, they were trembling.

No.

The hands that rested limply in your lap slowly moved in order to tightly grip the fabric beneath them. You tilted your head forward in hopes that your hair would cover your face. You bit down on your shaky bottom lip.

But you still felt the slightest layer of tears brim at the edge of your eyes.

God, why did you have to be so sensitive? Why did you have to be such a stupid, careless drunk? Why was this happening?

You needed to hold it together, you knew that. You already looked pathetic enough; he didn’t need to see you like this on top of it. It was surely that last thing you needed.

“…(Y/N)?” he asked, of course, defying the events of your ideal scenario right now and noticing your not-so-subtle nervous mannerisms and shift in demeanor. And his voice was filled with nothing but more care. Concern, now. He was worried for you. And, again, that’s about the opposite of what you wanted.

You squeezed your eyes shut,, shook your head, and looked even more downward, trying to hide as much as you could. You felt yourself inching closer toward breaking and you absolutely hated it, hated that you could do nothing about it. You hated everything about the position you were in.

“What the hell is the matter with-” Katsuki started, but was quickly interrupted by the stun of seeing a tear drop down into your lap, making his voice catch in his throat.

He felt his heart sink painfully.

You mentally face-palmed at how badly you failed to hold yourself together. You couldn’t dwell on it for too long, though, before Katsuki spoke again.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” he asked frantically in panic, his voice loud and angry, but, really, that was only to cover up the clear unease at seeing you like this.

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t speak, and even if you could, you didn’t know what you would say. Your mind was blank, only feeling the fear and dread in your heart as your tears continued falling.

Your fists tightened, nails digging into them with enough pressure to hurt your palms even with the fabric of your pants in the way. In fact, your hands began to shake from how hard you were squeezing them.

Katsuki immediately noticed your tremors, and he instinctively reached a hand of his own forward to rest on top of yours. He hated seeing you like this, and he didn’t understand why it was happening.

Your eyes opened at the feeling, and you hated the way it instantly calmed you. You hated that it always did.

You hated that you not only liked him, but you liked him so fucking much.

“I’m sorry,” you finally broke your silence, voice cracking and tears only picking up as you did.

“The fuck are you sorry for?” he asked, and the thumb of his hand over yours began to move back and forth. “...Don’t be sorry. I just fuckin’ hate seeing you like this.”

Even though it made your stomach flutter, that’s still not what you wanted him to say.

You yanked your hands out from underneath his touch and wrapped your arms around your torso. A small, strangled noise escaped his throat out of surpise as his hand fell onto your legs.

“Stop being so nice,” you suddenly burst out, both your cries and your frustration greatly seeping through the words, and growing as you continued. Your eyes clamped back shut. “Just be fucking blunt. Please. Just tell me I’m a complete and total idiot, that I was being desperate and pathetic and getting my stupid hopes up yesterday, and that you’ll never see me as anything more than your annoying best friend who you like to fuck for fun and could never actually like.”

Katsuki’s brows furrowed down more and more aggressively with each tearful word you forced out. He hated hearing you sound so defeated. So hurt. Especially when he was so sure you would be the exact opposite.

Was last night not enough for you to be sure of how he really feels about you? Not even on top of the fact that he pretty much hates most people, and there is not a single other person he treats the way he treats you, not a single friend of his who he is nearly as nice to and attentive of and clearly fucking attached to?

He inhaled slowly and silently as he gathered his thoughts.

“You are a complete and total idiot. But not for the reasons you think,” he began.

Your stomach flipped, your grip around yourself loosened a little, and your eyes opened again. Katsuki lifted his hand from your legs and released the fist he had formed, placing it softly on your chin and carefully turning your head to finally face him.

His face twitched at the sight of yours, all red and puffy. You noticed the minuscule movement, and you bit the inside of your cheek in anticipation of what he would follow up with. Any new tears ceased, now distracted by the new feeling in the air.

“I’m fuckin’ sorry I ever made you think that I could think any of that. I’m an idiot, (Y/N). I’m a fucking idiot.”

Your heart practically exploded, and your jaw slightly fell at his words. You couldn’t believe your ears.

Were you dreaming? Was this real? Were you real?

You felt like you were a lava lamp, with the way your insides were just tumbling all about. And it almost felt like you were without a brain, too, with how blank and still it was out of pure shock.

“I meant what I said last night,” he continued, despite your half-expectation that the next thing to happen would be you waking up. “I probably shouldn’t’ve said it while you were drunk. But… of course I wanna be your damn boyfriend. Of course I fucking like you. I… I’ve liked you for years, (Y/N).”

Naturally, uncontrollably, a smile overtook your features entirely.

“...Seriously?” you asked, just in case, your voice holding back a river of joy as you waited for one more confirmation that this wasn’t all in your head.

His own smile grew, and he laughed, short and breathy, before giving you the affirmation you sought out. “Fucking obviously seriously,” he said, clearly meaning it. He could have left it at that, but he felt an urge to say more. “When we first kissed. I just- I thought you regretted it. Only reason I said… whatever the fuck I said.”

You stared at him, deeply, as your emotions grew, before throwing your arms around his shoulders and leaning forward to press your lips to his. You kissed him more gently than you ever had. And when he kissed you back, which he instantly did, he did the same. And it felt different, to know it was real now. It felt so much better– and you honestly hadn’t known if that was even possible.

Quickly, you smiled into the kiss, unable to hold it back with how elated you were. You pulled back, then leaned your body further in, pulling him into a hug instead and laying your head on his shoulder, seeking more of his soft touch.

A small smile rested on his face as you moved to be against him, and he wrapped his arms around you securely.

“We’re idiots,” you breathed into his shoulder, smile remaining.

“Tch. Yeah,” he, almost tenderly, agreed.

“Ts’ my fault, really,” you felt the need to remind him. “That day, I’m the one who jumped to make an excuse for it and pretend like I hadn’t wanted to do that for ages. I was just scared, and I wasn’t sure what you were gonna say. And then when you agreed with me and shit, you just… seemed so sure.”

He noticed the way you got a little sadder again as you began to lament over the past, and he wasn’t having any of that. He only wanted to see you happy.

“It’s nobody's fuckin’ fault,” he confidently declared, even though he felt like it was his fault, really. He shouldn’t have been such a damn coward, keeping his feelings inside even though he wanted you so insanely bad, so much it felt like it almost killed him at times. But no way was he going to say any of that. “Who gives a shit about all that. We’re here now.”

Your smile returned to its previous magnitude, of which it had only momentarily strayed, and you tightened your grip around the boy.

“Yeah,” you said warmly into his shoulder. “We’re here now. …Which does mean we’re like official and shit, right? As in, dating? Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He laughed a little and shook his head endearingly.

“Yeah, yeah, all of the above, nerd.”

You laughed as well before sitting your head back up, making it level with his once more. Then, you adjusted your whole body entirely, shifting your legs to straddle him. He aided you in getting into the position comfortably by sitting up more properly and bracing his hands on your hips.

no promises i’ll do it cuz i don’t want anyone to get their hopes up just in case but i def wanna try!!

i will start writing asap, i’m just now getting over a cold and getting back to my daily routine :)

izuku swears he doesn’t make noise when he gets up in the morning. 

your hours as a pro-hero are often funky, the times that you get up varying greatly from day to day — whereas your husband has a very fixed sleep schedule in order to get to his class on time. 

he’s very, very careful not to wake you when he crawls out of bed at 5:30 every morning, making sure the blankets are covering you from head to toe. his footfalls are almost silent as he creeps down the hall, he winces as the bathroom door creaks ever-so-slightly. 

but inside the bathroom itself? that’s where all hell breaks loose. 

izuku swears he’s quiet in the mornings. he makes a point of mentioning it to your friends, how dutiful a husband he is to let his hard-working spouse sleep in when you can. 

he doesn’t know that you can hear every cabinet open, every clatter of the brush on the sink, the beep of the stove turning on or his keys jingling about in his pocket. 

he doesn’t know that you’re awake when he presses a goodbye kiss to your forehead every morning without fail, doesn’t see the little smile you hide under the covers when he whispers that he loves you before going out the door to work. 

when he smiles at you like that, you can’t help but agree. as far as you’re concerned, he’s silent as a mouse!

the best husband ever, you tell him with a little laugh and kiss on his cheek. (not the quietest — not by a long shot — but the best husband on earth nonetheless.)

wrote this on vday a couple years ago and didn’t think til now to post it in celebration since i did not do shit else to celebrate #single

bakugou x reader established relationship fluff, abt 1700 words

"Let's do a massage train!"

You and your boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou, were on your bed in your dorm room, enjoying doing nothing together. He sat upright with his legs stretched out, as you lay down with your head in his lap. The small T.V. atop your dresser played an old cartoon, which you had been absentmindedly staring at as he scrolled through Instagram.

"Huh?" He moved his phone out of the way of his face so that he could look down at yours, which you had just turned to look up at him. An uninterested look was planted on his face as he quirked up an eyebrow.

"A massage train. You know, you sit behind each other and, like, massage," you informed him, to which he responded by gently flicking the top of your head and quickly spouting his rebuttal.

"I know what a damn massage train is, smartass. But there's only two of us. That's a weak ass train. Ts'not even a train."

"Okay, fine, whatever. A massage…” you thought for a moment. “Truck!"

He rolled his eyes. "And I can be the front part where the driver sits, and you'll be the other part where they put all the stuff in."

"So, what you're saying is you that want me to massage you," he remarked.

"Well, duh. But after like 10 minutes or something, we switch off and keep switching off. If I just wanted a massage, I would've just told you to massage me," you replied matter-of-factly.

"You would've ‘just told me’? I wouldn't do it just 'cause you said so," he said, clearly offended by the insinuation that you had such control over his actions.

You sat up your upper body, his eyes and yours locked together as you did.

Slowly inching closer to his face, you slightly dragged out in a light voice, "Yes…" Soon, your lips were just about as close to his as they possibly could be without actually touching. "You would," you whispered.

The moment his eyes fluttered closed, and he intended to move his head forward and close the gap, you swiftly snapped your head the other way (giving him a brief face full of hair), stood up, and turned the direction of the door.

"Wha-” he stammered out. “Where are you going?" he asked in a burnt-up tone.

"Mina's room. If you won't massage truck with me, maybe she will."

Bakugou let out a prolonged sigh before grabbing hold of your wrist, causing you to turn back around and fight the urge to smirk at his caving in.

He switched positions to sit criss-cross applesauce and then pat the spot in front of him.

You smiled at him and clapped your hands together lightly before happily plopping down on that spot with a slight giggle.

"You're needy as hell, y'know that?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't pretend like you don't like it," you said as you gathered up your hair to pull it to the front of your chest and out of the way.

"Can we put something else on? If you're gonna make me do this shit, I should at least choose what we watch."

"I'm trying to relax, I don't wanna watch some loud, mindless action movie. I wanna watch quiet, mindless cartoons, thank you very much."

Not that he would ever say so, but Bakugou was weirdly comforted by the fact that you knew exactly what he had in mind. Though, he was also annoyed at your stubbornness. (Additionally, he was both surprised and glad that you hadn't recommended putting on a romance film, as you, unfortunately, knew he had a secret thing for those, and it was an excellent middle ground. You usually loved to rub it in his face that he was a romance fan and make fun of the way his cheeks turned light pink at the topic.

He mumbled a curse or two as he cracked his fingers in preparation.

You straightened your back in anticipation and excitement. Your back had been killing you lately for whatever reason. Plus, you hadn't had a massage in a long time. Honestly, you were surprised with yourself for not having asked him to do this earlier. You had been together for a while and-

Holy shit, in the span of 0.2 seconds, you suddenly ascended to heaven. Why had you not asked him to do this sooner? You couldn't be shocked at his talent, really, and you weren't. For starters, Bakugou was insanely jacked and obviously insanely strong. Then there's the fact that you were constantly proud of his ability to be amazing at everything he does; Why would this be any different?

You closed your eyes and slightly leaned your head to the side as he rubbed circles into your shoulders, and then your middle back, and then your lower back, and then your shoulders once again. You felt as if you'd been transported to a whole different world.

All too soon, his hands retreated from you as he said, "K, my turn."

"Ugh," you dragged out for a little too long. "Already? That was incredible."

"Duh," he replied as he stood up from the bed in order to swap spots with you. You sadly complied, scooting backward so he could sit in your previous spot.

Copying his actions, you cracked your knuckles and then got to it. You felt a little bad that you probably weren't quite as good at this as he was, but he did seem to be enjoying himself.

About 5 minutes in, your eyes wandered to his soft, fluffy, perfect hair. Unable to resist, you raked your hands into it and moved your fingers in a circular motion. You figured this would go under the 'yes' portion of the rules of massage trains, as you were still massaging him—just not his back. However, you soon fell further into temptation.

You pulled both hands away and gently grabbed a bit of his hair, separating it into three individual chunks. You then began to braid them. While his hair wasn't necessarily all that long, it was long enough to make cute little braids in.

"I thought we were pretending to be at a massage place, not a hair salon," he suddenly spoke up.

"Parlor."

"The fuck?"

"Massage parlor."

He sat in silence for a few seconds at your bluntness and non-answer.

"Tch- not the fucking point."

You remained silent, continuing to make more loose and untied braids throughout his head.

"Are you done?"

Smiling, you grabbed one of the braids and gently tugged it downward.

"Choo, choo," you imitated the sound of a train with two tugs of the "rope."

Glad you weren't able to see it, Bakugou smiled at your actions. He hated that he actually thought that that was kind of cute.

"I thought we were a truck," he quipped sarcastically.

With a smug look on your face, which he unfortunately couldn't see and use to prepare for your following actions, you then pressed down hard on the back of his head as if it were a steering wheel, shoving it forward as you made a loud, obnoxious 'honk' sound.

Before he could turn around and get back at you, you quickly snaked your arms around his waist and relaxed your head on his shoulder.

With a laugh that was more of an exhale than it was a laugh, he shook his head. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, you love it though."

He rested his arms on top of yours as you held onto him.

Content and comfortable, you stayed that way for a bit, enjoying each other's warmth as you pressed further into his back. The cartoons playing were simply background noise to your respective thoughts of only one another.

Picking up your head a bit, you planted one soft kiss on his lower neck.

One turned to two, and it continued to multiply as you moved your head up and down a small range of area.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the light feeling of your lips on his skin. He wasn't sure if things only felt as if they were in slow motion or if you were really just moving that slowly and gracefully. All that mattered, though, was that you were there with him, and he was happy, and so were you

Eventually, you returned your head to its placement on his shoulder, and he leaned his own downward to press against yours.

In a voice so quiet that you weren't sure he would even hear, especially over the sound of the T.V., you whispered, "I love you, Katsuki."

He lacked any kind of response for at least 30 seconds, causing you to think he hadn't caught that.

But then his hands, which were still on top of yours, interlaced with them, and he squeezed tightly. He then picked up his head and planted a passionate, heartfelt kiss onto your forehead before going back to the position it was previously in.

You smiled and tightened your grip around his waist.

He wasn't ready to say it, and that was okay. By no means did you want to rush things or make him feel the need to do so.

But you knew that he felt the same way.

The thing was, he didn't really need to say it.

He showed it plenty.

During training, he would always bring an extra water because he knows that you would forget your head if it weren't attached.

Whenever you started working on homework for a subject you struggled with, he would immediately start his so you could "work on it together," when he really just knew you needed the help.

At dinner, he would always make you a plate of your favorites and then clean up for you both as you raved over his cooking.

If he could, he would always squeeze your hand three times and rub his thumb into your palm when he saw that you were getting anxious.

When you shot awake in fear at absurd hours of the night, he would hold you as you sobbed into his chest until you fell back asleep.

He did all of this and more (much, much more) without being asked to.

And when you did ask for anything, he would shortly comply, and you could tell that he was happy to make you happy, even when he put up a front about it.

And that was enough.

soo here is another fic i wrote called two times you resisted, one time you gave in:

you needed to keep your feelings in check. you and bakugou broke up for a reason, and a good one at that.

(about 5k words! also it's old and there's stuff i would've done differently if i wrote it now but i still like it fine enough andd if you read it i hope you do too!! muah!)

It was a Monday morning.

Bakugou had just arrived to class and sat down in his usual seat.

He looked beyond tired.

His hair was almost a literal rat's nest; spiky as usual, yes, but tangled about as well. His shirt was wrinkled and— was it on inside out? His head rested on his hand as his eyes dozed off and, god, was he drooling, too?

It was so unlike him. You were unable to hold back from staring at the display. Honestly? You thought it was absolutely adorable. You couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted within you at the sight.

However, beyond that surface-level feeling was an unshakable, deep-seated worry. You hadn’t talked to the boy in a while, despite living in the same dorms. On the same floor, even.

You missed his constant presence in your life.

Would it, by any means, be wise to rekindle what you had? Not at all. But that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to. And not in the slightest did that mean you didn’t care about him anymore. Some would argue that you cared too much, all things considered.

You stared at him more. He looked rather deep in thought for so early in the day. But, hey, you probably did, too, as you were thinking about him quite intensely.

A part of you wanted to run up to him right this second. You wanted to brush his hair’s knots away. You wanted to give him new, warm, freshly ironed clothes. You wanted to lift his head for him, wipe away his drool, and kiss him until he was incapable of thinking about any troubles he might have.

And it wasn’t a small part, either. You wanted that so bad. It was almost absurd. Scratch that— it was absurd.

Redirecting your gaze, you closed your eyes and wiped underneath them, then rubbed the temples of your head in a circular motion one or three or five times, as if you would be able to physically push out all of these thoughts. Like rubbing your head hard enough would permanently crush them into nonexistence.

Your efforts were not solely physical, no. Mentally, you used all your strength to will them away, trying to imagine yourself stuffing a trash can full of every single Katsuki Bakugou related thing in your brain. But, alas, it wasn't a trash can you needed; it was a landfill. There was just too much—years of memories, years of emotions. And, jeez, it was much too early in the morning to think about this. That never stopped you, though, despite a great deal of wishing that it would. No matter what condition you were in, Bakugou always managed to sneak into your thoughts when you were left alone with them. It was built into your system at this point.

Unable to help it, your eyes sped right back to where the boy sat. Continuing to take in his disheveled appearance, a wave of guilt soon crashed over you.

No, you scolded yourself. It isn't your fault. You did what was best for the both of you, you tried to remember.

You wanted to believe it, but you couldn't hold back the part of your brain screaming the opposite. Your mind betrayed you as it planted the idea that maybe, deep down, you did end things with him selfishly.

You looked at his face, narrowing in on his eyes (on his eye bags).

It's your fault.

He looked so tired. He looked sad. You can't remember ever seeing him this sad, as if he just might burst into a heap of tears at legitimately any moment. You'd only seen him cry a few times, and you wanted it to stay that way.

Your fault.

It killed you. It was eating you up inside.

Never in a million years did you want to see him looking so genuinely hurt. You wished you could take away that pain. You'd rather die than see him cry over something that you did. Or, really, to see him cry at all. The few times that you had would haunt you for the rest of your life, you were sure.

Whelp, so much for thinking he looked cute. (Though, of course, he always looks cute. But this situation is anything but.)

All you wanted for him was the best.

You wished that you were what was best for him.

You hated how desperate you sounded. You needed to think about something else, anything else, but you had been trying and continuously drawing a blank on quite literally any other topic. He was the first thing on your mind for a truly embarrassing amount of time.

Good god, how were you supposed to do math in this shit field state of mind?

————————

It was a Wednesday afternoon.

You were so tired, so insanely tired, and all you wanted to do was to relax.

Mina Ashido, though, was a force to be reckoned with; meaning, she was beyond pushy. Today, she decided that you and she would go to the gym together, and she wasn't taking no for an answer. In fact, it wasn't a question to begin with. At lunch, she had informed you of your after-school plans of which you had “no chance of getting out of.”

"Mina, I love you, I really do, but Jesus Christ, please fuck off," you begged after she tried to convince you to do a yet another set of leg presses.

"Ok, ok, fine, no more. Let's move on to bench presses!" she clapped.

"Mina, seriously, why are you pushing so hard? We usually only come here twice a week. We get plenty of training at school, y'know. Are you, like, okay?" you queried, feeling slightly worried. However, after seeing Bakugou so distraught lately, you had been overly nursing toward all your friends, frequently pressing them about their state of being. You were definitely projecting, but at least it wasn't any particularly destructive behavior.

Ashido sighed and walked up to you. As you gave her an inquisitive look, she picked up both of your hands with both of hers and pulled upward so your interlocked limbs were in between your chests.

"I am absolutely fine. Are you?"

Your eyebrows furrowed at her question.

"Wh- Yes? I'm fine?"

"Babe, c'mon. I hate to say it, but you're not as good at hiding your feelings as you think you are. You're clearly all torn up over whatever happened between you and Bakugou."

She was right, and you knew that. But this was not the time or place to discuss this. Did she really have to drag you here and then ask?

Sighing, you figured it'd be pointless to deny her claims. "Ok, yeah, I have a lot on my mind. Especially about Bakugou," she raised her eyebrows in a quick motion as to say 'duh.' "I'm dealing with it, though. I appreciate you pushing me to think about something else, or, I don't know, whatever your goal was, but I can get through this just fine on my own."

"I know you can figure this all out alone, but please, please know that you do not have to. Me and all the others are here for you," she gave your hands a squeeze. "I brought you here because I wanted you to just focus on yourself and your own needs and your own health. We don't have to stay if you don't want. We could just go watch a movie in my dorm if that sounds better. Or just whatever else you feel like doing. Anything. But let's do something that'll make you feel good, okay?"

You couldn't help but smile at how genuinely thoughtful she was. You really couldn't ask for a better best friend.

It was no lie that you had been sleeping horribly lately, and increased level of exercise is proven to help you sleep better. So, alright, why not?”

"Thank you, Mina. We- We can stay. Let's just maybe cool it a tad," you laughed.

She agreed, and you walked over to another machine. You did one set of ten reps, then traded places, and she began doing the same.

You had been drinking from your water bottle when, suddenly, you nearly choked on the liquid. You suppressed the urge to make a dramatic cartoonish face, where your eyes would pop out of your head, and your jaw would drop to the floor.

Bakugou and Kirishima had just entered the building.

Jesus Christ, it never failed to catch you off guard just how jacked he is.

Awooga-

You closed your eyes for a few seconds, shaking your head and mentally scolding yourself.

The whole reason you were brought here is to not think about him.

Goddamnit, of course he's here right as you are. You should stop having faith in the universe to let things work out for you.

"You good?" Ashido asked as she finished her set and grabbed her water bottle.

You simply shook your head from side to side and then motioned it toward the direction of your source of agony.

A confused look crossed Ashido's face until her eyes finally spotted the duo. "Damn, seriously? That's some pretty shit luck."

Unfortunately, you were just a touch too distracted to fully listen to her.

Because, holy fuck, those arms. Muscles, muscles, and more muscles. Muscles galore, wow.

You hadn't realized how much you missed this aspect of being with him (or that you even missed it at all, much too focused on the mushy stuff); he is hot. Ugh, and he knows it too. He was dressed in a tight-fitting black tank top, which did nothing to hide— well, anything. Additionally, he wore simple gray sweatpants. But even that was just— damn.

God, you needed to calm the hell down.

But how could you? You swore his arms looked at you first. Your mind filled with the idea of those very arms grabbing your wrists pinning them against the wall, one on each side, as-

"Girl, you're staring," Ashido said in a hushed voice.

"Shit, yeah," you said as you finally peeled your eyes away from the boy. Little did you know, it was perfect timing. Right when you turned your head away, he caught sight of you. It was better for the both of you that you missed the look that flashed across his face.

Ashido smirked as she noticed how red your face had suddenly gotten. "What were you thinking about, huh?" she said slyly.

"Sh- shut the fuck up. Get up, my turn."

Her hands shot up defensively, despite her teasing smile remaining.

"The thrown is yours, your majesty."

You suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to prove yourself.

You did as much as you possibly could have of the exercise until you physically couldn't anymore.

You sat up, Ashido giving you a confused and suspicious look as her eyes followed your movements and stayed on you for a moment as she hesitated.

"…(Y/N)?"

Previously zoned out, staring forward at nothing in particular, this snapped you back. "Hm, yeah?”

"Should we leave? I feel like maybe we should leave."

"No!" you responded quickly, making Ashido’s brows furrow unsurely.

"No," you repeated more calmly.

"We're fine, it's fine. Just, go on, do your reps," you urged with a wave of the hand as you stood.

She sighed before mumbling, "If you say so."

You cracked your neck, turning it all the way to the side. And you totally just needed to crack your neck, and absolutely were not hoping that your gaze would end up on a certain someone.

Oh! Look! It's Bakugou! What a coincidence!

You weren't sure what he did to get there, but he had now been drenched in a layer of sweat. Your eyes widened the slightest bit, practically unnoticeable.

Then, he lifted the bottom of his tank top and leaned his head down to use it to wipe his forehead.

Abs. Holy fuck, abs.

You could feel the drool pooling up in your mouth. Your brain turned to total mush. You felt like a toddler whose mom just took out a bunch of cake and ice cream, except, y’know, just a tad more inappropriate of an image.

Ok. Ok, maybe Ashido had been right. Maybe you did need to get the hell out of here because Jesus Christ.

You were so tempted to stay for the sole purpose of continuing to hardcore lust over your ex-boyfriend. But, no. You had to push away those urges, no matter how intense they were (and they were quite intense).

"Mina."

She had just finished her set.

"’Sup?"

"I need to leave," you nodded your head intensely.

To juxtapose your state, Ashido shook her head out of entertainment, bubbling with laughter.

"This isn't funny," you whined like a child.

"I hate to argue, but it so is. C'mon, let's get out of here before you go into heat."

You hung your head low, continuing to pout.

Ashido grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the exit.

Unable to help yourself, you turned back toward his direction one final time. He was lifting weights, and oh my god his back muscles-

————————

It was a Saturday night.

Though, if you want to get technical, it was a Sunday morning.

Precisely 2:15 in the morning.

You had mindlessly wandered out of your room upon your inability to fall asleep. This wasn't particularly unusual for you. Unfortunately, it was a relatively common ritual. Throughout your entire life, you struggled with what should be the basic and simple task of getting enough sleep. Lately, it had only seemed to worsen.

You found yourself sitting outside, on the steps of the Heights Alliance building, finding peace and comfort in the soft glisten of the moon and the light chirp of crickets. Your head rested in your hands, which were atop your knees, as you stared up into the aforementioned moonlight.

Your eyes fixated on a particular star in the sky as your mind rambled on about multiple topics at once.

You couldn't help but torture yourself by constantly filling your brain with an abundance of unpleasantries. You definitely had a knack for self-sabotage. Of all things to be good at, right?

The topic placed at the forefront of your mind would surprise no one.

You missed him. You really just missed having him around. His shitty attitude, no matter how shitty, would always feel so oddly comforting to you. You felt like you would never be able to move past this. You wanted more than anything for the two of you to work out. In the beginning, based on your friendship, you didn't think to have any doubts about how secure your relationship would be. Things were great; that was the honeymoon phase, of course (as honeymoon-like as Bakugou was capable of, that is).

Not much later, things started to slip. Every argument has now blended in your mind, a blur of screaming followed by tears— your tears, not his. You were always sensitive to anger. Any argument would send you into a mess of waterworks. You always tried to hold it in until you could storm off and cry alone. He would stay behind and blow off steam with his own destructive methods. Though, there were times when you couldn't quite stop the tears from slipping mid-argument. He would always shut his mouth the second he noticed. You would turn around in embarrassment, and moments later, you would feel a hand lightly on your shoulder. That gesture would turn into a hug, and the two of you would go to bed together, spooning without another word.

That's how you knew he cared, right? So, it was ok.

Yeah, no.

Things just kept descending into worse and worse conditions. You couldn't take it anymore, and you knew he couldn't either. It was as simple as that.

All of a sudden, the sound of a door opening harshly shook you from your stupor. Heavy footsteps moved toward your direction.

You turned your head to see who it was, but you didn't need to turn all the way to recognize the figure before you.

It was the man of the hour himself: Bakugou.

Both of you wordless, he slowly made his way toward you and joined you on the steps.

There was a long gap, filled only with the sounds of mother nature. You fiddled with your fingers, unsure of what to do or say. The air surrounding you both felt tenser than tense.

You wished you had been able to sleep. You wished this wasn't happening. You wished that literally anything else was happening right now. What did he want? You really didn't want to do this right now. You could barely handle just thinking about him, and now here you are, not even a foot away from him. You wished he would say something. Did he expect you to take the initiative here? He's the one who just showed up out of the blue. You were perfectly content being alone, thankyouverymuch.

"Hi," you finally said, brushing some hair behind your ear awkwardly.

Short, simple, and incredibly quiet. It could barely even be considered a whisper. For a moment there, you weren't even quite sure that you had actually said it out loud.

But eventually, disputing that thought, he responded.

"Hey," almost just as quiet, with a gruff and grainy voice. It wasn't hard to tell that he was equally as sleep-deprived as you were.

"Couldn't sleep?" you asked, intentionally keeping your word count to a minimum, creating as little conversation as possible.

He hummed in response.

So, he wasn't feeling very chit-chatty either. Good. However, that's kind of just Bakugou’s default.

"Are you..." he began but hesitated to go on. You didn't press, letting him take his time deciding just what to say. He didn't, though. He left his unfinished sentence to float around with no purpose.

"I miss you."

What?

Did you imagine that?

Or did he seriously say that?

He did. He said it. You were impressed by his ability to be so vulnerable, just like that. You had to admit that it was a nice change of pace.

You turned your head to look at him, suddenly having the courage to do so. He sensed your gaze on him and slowly returned the action with a choppy movement of his own (Bakugou never was very smooth when it came to anything romantic, but at least he tried).

The surely very stressed expression on your face immediately softened as you landed on his unusually still features. The gentle moonlight shone on his face, slightly lighting him up. He looked... pretty. He looked gorgeous. You could see his more docile side and it brought the coziest feeling to your chest.

His harder gaze had lightened at the sight of you as well, you noticed. A part of you hoped he had been thinking the same thing as you. You wanted him to think that you were pretty.

The two of you stared into each other's eyes, seeming to have an entire conversation with this action. An outside perception may assume that you both have some type of mind-reading quirk and were exchanging words mentally.

But, no. You were both just really enjoying the view.

His eyes slowly moved down your face until he was fixated on your lips. You unintentionally parted them slightly as a result. He flicked his gaze back toward your eyes as he moved in a little closer.

Not thinking properly (or, really, not thinking anything at all), you mimicked his actions and moved your head forward.

Soon enough, your lips were brought together with an intense delicacy and slowness, both of you nervous that some Earth-shattering event would occur were you to mess this up.

Luckily, nothing of the sort happened

Eagerly, as though it was now safe to do so, you both deepened the kiss almost immediately.

You pressed against each other in a desperate and frantic manner, like your entire lives had led up to this moment. Like you were each other's air.

God, you had been craving this for way too long.

Your hand slowly traveled upward along his shirt, and stopped at his chest, where you longingly clutched onto the fabric as tight as you could, not wanting this to end. Not wanting him to suddenly disappear.

Upon your actions, he raised a calloused hand to your face. Your ear was in between his fingers, and his thumb moved back and forth on your cheek.

When your mind eventually cleared up from the haze of the situation, though, you took in what was really happening and what it really meant.

You forced yourself to pull away both your face and hand, doing so quickly and harshly. You brought your gaze forward and looked down slightly, wanting to avoid eye contact. He kept his eyes on your side profile. From experience, you knew the expression likely on his face right was one that would throw all your rationality out the window. More so, it wouldn’t be stopped by friction; it’d keep going until it ended up in a black hole of a distant galaxy. You couldn’t have that. You needed to think properly right now.

“Stop. Stop, please. We can’t go down this road, Suki. Not again. It’s- We-” you sighed. “You know that we can’t. It isn’t good, for either of us. We aren’t good for each other. We work best as friends, and we need some time apart before going back to even that.”

He continued to stare, before inhaling a deep breathe.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he laughed dryly. It was almost like he was trying not to break down. "I… I care about you. A lot. And we both know that that’s not exactly easy for me to say. Isn’t that enough? Why can’t that be enough? You make me fucking- happy or whatever," his words got more and more mumbled as he got through the sentences.

You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. You needed to be able to properly shut down any argument of his. You couldn't have him convincing you that you were right for each other. You knew that you weren't, and that fact had to stay cemented within you, even with his presence making all your reasoning begin to slip away.

"Jesus, I wish it was that simple. I swear I do," you started. "I care about you too. Also a lot. But c'mon, you know things just weren’t good, like, at all when we were together."

He hesitated, flashes of heated scenes appearing in his brain the instant you uttered those words. He knew that so much pain was inflicted upon the both of you over the course of your relationship. But he also knew that just because things were like that once, doesn't mean they always had to be.

"That was months ago," he said, causing you to let out a laugh laced with mockery. You hadn't meant it to be mean way, but rather severely questioning.

"Ok, yeah, a few months isn’t that much damn time," you raised your eyebrows in a 'no shit' way. "But I think that we’ve changed- or, y'know, we can change enough to make this work."

You closed your eyes and silently breathed in. "I wanna believe you but-"

"Then believe me," he shot back in record time.

You were already becoming frustrated by his persistence. "It’s more complicated than that."

"Why? Why the fuck does it have to be more complicated?" he was already getting angry by your refusal to even consider what he had to say. "That's stupid and you know I’m right."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before spitting out, "No, actually. Believe it or not, you aren’t always automatically in the fucking right just because you're the Katsuki Bakugou,” you said with an air of mockery.

"You just don’t wanna end whatever bullshit fling you have with that dickwad, huh?" he defensively spit back in retaliation in mere seconds.

He never was able to just mind his business where he didn’t belong when it came to you.

"Oh my god," you said, exasperated, placing your palms over your eyes and rubbing them before you whipped your head to the side to look at him, finally making eye contact again. "Are you seriously bringing this up right now?"

"Yes, I am. I’m a million times better than him 'n you know it. Just dump his ass."

You didn't even bother to bring up the fact that you couldn't dump someone that you weren't ever actually with. It was just as he said; a fling.

"God, Katsuki, this isn’t about him. I swear to you that he didn’t even cross my mind 'til you just brought him up," you aggressively retorted.

He laughed with a smug, immature expression on his face. "As fucking if. I’d bet he’s all you even think about. You're always sneaking off and shit to go make out in some shitty hiding place. Everyone knows it, you aren’t exactly good at hiding it."

You grimaced and shook your head at him. "Would you just leave him out of this? That is not fair."

"None of this is fair. The fuck does that even mean, huh? You're the one who decided to-"

You cut him off before he could continue to whatever vulgar thing he had prepared on the tip of his tongue. "Will you stop it?! Please? God, I hate it when you act like this!"

He furrowed his brows. "Like what?"

Your eyes narrowed. "Like a jealous little bitch," you spat.

"The fuck do I have to be jealous of, huh? Like I said, I’m way fuckin' better than him," he arrogantly stated.

"And are you trying to convince me or yourself?" you said with a bitter laugh.

"Watch your fucking mouth." He inched a bit closer to you as he said it. You could feel his breath on your face.

You looked at him blankly, not sure where to go from here. All you were doing, once again, was arguing.

You looked away like you had previously, choosing to stay silent for some time. When you spoke up again, you consciously did so with a soft and cautious tone.

"Don’t you see what I’m talking about? Don’t you get it? This is always how things are gonna go with us. We piss each other off. We argue like hell over the stupidest things. It’s bad. It was really bad. This barely scrapes the surface of how bad our fights have gotten. I'm… almost surprised that things never got physical.” You got quiet for a moment. He felt a pang in his heart at that. He knew he’d never lay a hand on you outside of training. He’d always thought that’s something you’d both completely agree on. “That's bad, Katsuki. Can you please just admit that that’s bad? That it was bad?" You tried not to let it, but your voice began to raise right back up to a higher volume as you continued to speak.

He seemed like he was absorbing what you were saying, as he paused for a considerable amount of time. His heart squeezed painfully at your words. Still, though, he just couldn't agree.

"No, I cant."

Your previous attempts at calming yourself down were now fully down the drain.

You scoffed and flicked your neck back around to his face as you had now done multiple times. "Seriously? Are you doing this on purpose? Do you just want to disagree with me? Want me to be wrong?"

"No," he raised his voice defensively before bringing it back down slightly. "That isn’t it"

"Then what is it?" you heatedly challenged, not yet believing him.

"I just-"

He looked away, looking visibly uncomfortable. Like it was hard for him to push out his next words. "I just don’t want it to be true."

You softened. Immensely.

He suddenly seemed so fragile, like the other day in class all over again.

You didn't want to hurt him, so you made sure, harder than before, not to speak too harshly. "I get it. Neither do I.” Another momentary pause. “But it just is. I’m sorry.”

As he stared at the sky, you noticed him blinking an excessive amount.

He was trying not to cry.

Fuck.

You wanted to grab and squeeze his hand so badly. You were able to stop yourself.

"Look," you spoke back up. "Maybe one day, far enough from now, we can make this work. But for the time being, we’re both way too immature for that."

He nodded an extremely small amount. "You're already way ahead of me. You're mature enough to say that."

You smiled appreciatively. "Wow, Bakugou Katsuki admitting to a fault? I’m impressed."

"Shut the fuck up," he said with the slightest, practically imperceptible grin.

"That's a good thing," you assured the boy. "You’re capable of change. We both are. If this is still something we both want by that point, then we can have this conversation again in the future."

He didn't say anything.

"Deal?" you pressed, raising your eyebrows.

"Yeah. Whatever. Deal."

With a small but genuine smile, you lifted your hand and held out your pinky in his direction.

Seeing it in his peripheral vision, he turned toward you with an eyebrow raised.

"You're an idiot."

You didn't falter, simply pushing your hand closer to him.

He rolled his eyes before intertwining his pinky with yours, sealing the forever unbreakable promise.

And that was that. For now. Until you were ready. Until he was ready.