CamCanime

Nerves are becoming an undesirable companion for your poor self. The torrent of people is neither a problem nor the concept of mingling - that is all fine. No, the issue lies with you sticking out like a sore thumb. You assumed that there would be at least one other girl who would opt for trousers but they're all either in dresses or skirts. God knows you would have done the same but that sort of style has never been your thing aside from the compulsory uniform. It took trying on a full store's worth of fancy garments to realise that you best just wear what's comfortable. You're rocking a blazer jacket with matching smart trousers, the ensemble especially pops with the bright (f/c), laced camisole finishing the look. It’s a little snug in your opinion but a certain pink-haired friend of yours insisted that it shapes you perfectly. The blazer shall remain fixed on your shoulders, you think. Mina spent all of the previous day boosting your confidence and psyching you up like the queen she is but you can’t shake off those last remnants of worry. You're having a conversation with her when you notice Kirishima out of the corner of your eye and the skip of your heart isn’t something to ignore. Even you couldn't have predicted him looking as dashing as he does in that suit.

Mina leans over and whispers in your ear excitedly, "Now’s your chance! You gotta get over Bakugo, anyways."

Ah, yes. That whole situation. Over the years, you silently admired the explosive student and awkwardly pined for his attention. You had even attempted to make subtle advances on the guy but he just never took the bait. After so many missed shots, you eventually decided that it would be best to reserve your ammo lest you risk depleting your aching heart. It was only a matter of time before you ended up hanging out with his best friend more and, like some sick twisted fate, found yourself falling victim to those wretched butterflies again. If you had any doubts about having a type before, you don't now. Unwavering resolve, irrefutable strength, and a powerful dedication to becoming a hero? It doesn't seem to get much more attractive than that. 

"I dunno, Mina. 'You sure I'm not too... masculine in energy? I know Kirishima admires manly things but..."

Sighing, she just rolls her eyes and pushes you into him before darting off, giggling like a troublesome child. Cheeky bitch. You love the girl and understand that she's trying to help but her methods aren't always appreciated. Before you fall, Kirishima catches you and that jump of your stomach evolves into a stuttered sprinting when you gaze up at him shyly. Part of you wishes you had landed on the ground just to be saved from this embarrassment. Being met with the cold floor has never sounded more inviting. It's hard to tell in the lighting but it looks as though his cheeks are reddening as he's holding you. Dear God, you've made a fool of yourself, haven’t you? Scratch that. There’s only one person to blame in this and she’s run free from the scene like a coward. 

Kirishima eases you back up onto your feet and smiles, albeit a little teasingly. "What happened there, twinkle-toes? 'You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry,” laughing bashfully, you dust yourself off. “I must've just tripped on something."

Your attention darts around to get a clue onto Mina so you can send her a silent scream of aggravation for what she just did. However, it would appear that she has disappeared among the sea of students and you instead catch a glimpse of Bakugo, who has had his attention on you for a while now. When your eyes meet, he's quick to turn away, the expression on his face unreadable. That's happened a handful of times recently and you can't figure out why. Admittedly, you don't spend as much time together as you used to but that doesn't mean you've entirely withdrawn yourself from him. He is still a friend. Even with the unrequited crush in mind, you would never blank him. The last few months have been a different story but hitting the books has been everyone's priority in the lead-up to finals. 

A soft nudge to your side pulls you out of your contemplation and you are greeted with another one of those heart-melting smiles. "Good thing I was here to catch you, huh?"

You resist the urge to look away and giggle, "I guess it was pretty lucky."

Lucky your ass. A certain pink rascal will be paying dearly for this later.

"I love the outfit, by the way."

Thoughts of revenge slip away like a sinking ship and you slowly gawk down at yourself. It’s a lovely apparel, even you won’t deny that, but it hardly feels worth complimenting when one considers the array of frilly fabrics flaunting around your person. The flattering remark is meant in earnest and you try to keep that in mind, especially with him. He always means what he says, anyone knows that. As stated before: insecurity is an undesirable companion that lingers at your side, practically sewn to your hip. If only you could cut the tie and be rid of it. All you want to do is enjoy your graduation. Is that too much to ask?

You harbour enough strength to look back up sheepishly. "Really?"

"Of course!” His eyes widen with a confused smile. He can’t believe you wouldn’t think the same. “It really suits you!"

"Thanks." You manage to push past your nerves at least a little and grin. "Wanted to make sure I could dance, you know? S'not easy to bust out the full calibre of my moves in a skirt and heels." Oh yeah. You opted for flat shoes just so you wouldn’t risk stumbling over yourself like some schmuck. 

The two of you share a fond laugh and he holds a hand to the back of his neck. An unspoken tension writhes between you both when his gaze drops to the floor. Confidence is a fickle thing, fleeting away as fast as it had been regained. Those nerves prickle against your shoulders once more and you fear you may have sullied your image with the poor attempt at a joke. Taking compliments isn't exactly a strength of yours, so you're quick to deflect with silly responses.

"Well, seeing as you mentioned it, do you... wanna dance? I mean, I'm not very good but..."

Maybe you didn't come across as lame as you had initially thought. Luckily, at his time of asking, a particularly catchy tune is playing; one with a beat you are sure you can get into if you really want to. Might as well. Already making your way to the appointed dance floor, you gesture for him to follow. 

"Come on, then."

It takes a while but eventually, the two of you are dancing with no shame. At one point, you even slip off your blazer and unceremoniously throw it into the crowd, earning many cheers and calls of excitement from your peers. Any doubts about the mildly flashy top beneath your jacket have quickly faded, getting lost in the wildness of your beaming soul along with the music. There's that crazy energy he's fallen in love with. Watching you light up with such conviction is a sight that he relishes any time he is lucky enough to witness it. Whether it’s on the battlefield, during training sessions, or you passionately speaking about something you love, he lives for it. Amidst his fawning, everything around him blurs and soon vanishes. All of his focus is on you and how you manage to effortlessly succumb to having a good time. He tries his best to keep up but he would much rather admire you. Were it possible, he’d watch you for hours on end. The shine of your smile, the gleaming sparkle your eyes hold, how your hair bops side to side with every movement - the guy is unequivocally transfixed and hypnotised by the allure of your enjoyment.

Gradually, the fast pace siezes with a slow song and, unable to look at Kirishima, your eyes wander. Oh, this fucking girl. You can see Mina standing by the speaker, holding her thumbs up at you with a grin that would be contagious were you not writhing in loathing. She must think she's the hottest wing-woman on the block with these unwelcomed antics. Perhaps it’s high time you surrender to her shenanigans and let bygones be bygones. Besides, you can hardly pay much attention to her with your current circumstances. It’s time to face your fears and face the man beside you. When you turn to meet him, equally wondering how he feels about the situation, his hand is already outstretched towards you. As curious as you are, you won’t question how long he’s been waiting for you. Best not to test his patience either. It’s time to get your head in the game. Don’t mess this up.

No pressure. 

With a steadying breath, you oblige and take the offer, fingers gently landing in his palm. His clasp shut around yours and he takes a step forward. Given how resolute his bravery typically is, this moment would be considered comedic were you not just as terrified yourself. Now is the perfect opportunity for Mina to run in and push the two of you into each other. Thankfully, such a dreaded imagining of events doesn’t appear to come to fruition. Although, it’s as if she’s working some strange voodoo magic because you step closer and place a hand on his shoulder. This sudden daring threatens to recoil in fear of coming across brash but Kirishima’s hand on your hip stops that from happening. Those bright, red eyes shimmer with a determination you’ve only ever seen during your sparring sessions. The two of you share a shy smile before you allow yourself to rest your head on his chest. Content, you hum into the fabric of his tux, only hoping that the music is loud enough to drown it out.

Whilst swaying gently side to side in each other’s embrace, your pupils flick around, gazing over the beautiful twirls of elegant cloth that surround you. They’re gorgeous. Every one of them might as well be a princess suspended in iridescent clouding whilst you weep into the muddy ground like a peasant. With how glorious this longed-for moment is, you scold yourself for getting distracted by the heavy tug in your chest. Pulling away only slightly, your shoulders slump against the crux of your fragility. 

Kirishima is unfortunately very good at picking up on these things. "Something on your mind?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah… it’s just..." You contemplate throwing out some last-ditch excuse but decide against it and sigh. "It's gonna sound stupid but it just feels like this moment would look better if I was wearing a beautiful dress like all the other girls," laughing sadly, your gaze drops to your feet. "It'd probably be nicer for you, too."

A gentle pressure hugs your cheek and the warm hand guides your attention back to him. Eyes wide with worry, his brows turn up and his face is brought forward, foreheads almost touching. These actions alone draw out whatever breath you have left in your lungs and, with that soft stare of his, you forget how to breathe completely.

"You crazy or somethin'? I don't care about any of that. Sure, I bet you'd look amazing in a dress but this is you. It's about what you're comfortable in and I love that you can do that." The concern in his expression subsides, being replaced with a sheepish grin. "Besides, I reckon you're the most beautiful girl in this room."

The evidence is undeniable and, yet, your mind makes haste in excusing it for his kind nature. He’s likely just saying all of this to calm your anxiety. That isn’t Kirishima’s style but why else would he feed you such lovely words like this? Nagging, your inner voice piles lie upon lie to keep you from believing what’s right in front of you. You shake your head and prep your own voice for defiance but nothing comes out. By now, his forehead is pressed firm into yours and you pray that he can’t feel the flush of your suddenly fevered skin.

“Please, believe me,” he whispers and it’s as if the music aids his words, uplifting like a crescendo despite how quiet they are. “You’re stunning. Even if you don’t think it, I… I always have. I do.” His mouth clamps shut for a moment whilst he collects himself, negotiating his options, and then he speaks again, “You really are beautiful and I don’t know how else to say…”

He trails off with the piano’s cadence and this entire time you are starstruck. The raw emotion is palpable even in its softness. Kirishima edges ever closer to you, that shimmering grit blazing his crimson eyes like before. He’s usually strong with his words, having bellowed many motivational speeches for the benefit of his comrades but, at his core, he is a man of action. Hesitant breaths exchange with one another, blowing into one betwixt the little space between your lips. Your temptation to feel them pressed on yours urges you forward and is the clear sign that coerces him into making the jump. Violins sing, percussions crash, and then all fades into a multi-colour visage as you melt into each other. 

He took it. 

He took his chance and is soaring on cloud nine. 

In reality, the dream was much, much shorter but I just couldn't stop writing once I started. So many ideas kept coming to me. Speaking of...

BONUS:

Bakugo's eyes have been on you and his friend like a hawk for quite some time now. He's taken note of the awkward glances, your touch on Kirishma's shoulder when he makes you laugh, the way he smiles bashfully at you. This is hardly anything new. The two of you have been like this for the last couple of months now and it's almost enough to make him sick. Hell, you're even slow dancing with one another. 

"They're like a couple of love-sick puppies," he huffs to himself and leans back against the wall. "It's obvious they like each other. Just say something already."

"That's a little rich coming from you."

Of all the people to come and bug him, why did it have to be that dunceface? He's become more tolerable over the years but there's still a pinch of irritation whenever he has something dimwitted to say. The smug demeanour of Kaminari is almost enough to coax out a bark but, instead, there's a short moment of silence. 

Bakugo's glare narrows more so than before. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on! You mean to tell me you didn't know?" When that blazing scowl deepens, he continues, "Dude! (Y/n) had the biggest crush on you for, like, the first two years of U.A. I'm surprised our ever-observant Kacchan didn't pick up on it."

Kaminari is quick to make an escape when a threatening hand rises towards him. What does that sorry excuse for a spark plug know? He falls for any woman stupid enough to say hello to him. Bakugo's clenched fist slowly drops to his side and he goes back to watching you and the redhead. There's no way you had a crush on him. He would have noticed.

He would have acted on it. 

The majority of Class 1-A are good at picking up on when a fellow classmate is bewitched and hopelessly smitten: Midoriya and Uraraka are prime examples. It took those two idiots way too long to finally nip it in the bud and admit their feelings for one another. On the other hand, figuring out if Bakugo has ever become prey to such romantic infatuations remains a mystery to his peers. Eventually, everyone came to the assumption that he was too targeted on his goal of becoming the greatest hero to get distracted by such things. 

That couldn't be further from the truth. 

It started as a high level of respect, shifted into trust, maybe even adoration for a while, and then a strange sensation of euphoria when he'd see you. The whole "realising crush" period didn't hit him until you spent less time together. It dawned on him that he missed your company. How does that mushy saying go? Distance makes the heart grow fonder? Ah, whatever. Bad feelings weren't harboured. He had just put it down to you wanting to knuckle down for the third and final year of school. Then, about halfway through the year, you got closer to his friend. Kirishima has had it bad for you for a while now and it looked as though you'd fallen hard for him as well. A sharp disdain manifested when this turn of events materialised. Had you acted towards Bakugo the way you have been with Kirishima these last two months, he would have made no hesitation in asking you out. 

He's about to put it out of his mind, deciding it's not worth the trouble at this point, but those cogs start turning against his will. You did always put in the effort to make sure he was included, more than anyone else. Not to mention, your fingers used to fiddle with your hair a lot whenever you two hung out. Then there's taking into account the times he caught you and Mina whispering amongst each other, your face growing red when you'd catch his eye. A tightness burdens his chest as the memories start flooding. All of those little instances: the way you'd glance at him in moments of silence, how you'd always ask to be his study partner, the way your voice rose in pitch when he'd enter the room - it all comes crashing down on him like an ocean wave laced with shards of glass. How did he not see this sooner? Was he so insecure about his feelings not being reciprocated that he just subconsciously ignored you? At the very moment of realisation, his eyes re-focus, land on your figure once more and... you and Kirishima are kissing - a beautiful tragedy that burns a hole in his heart. Any opportunity he had of asking you out is long gone and out the window now. 

He lost it.

You were held in captivity for almost two years. Two years. They tormented and verbally degraded you to no end. To say it was torture was an understatement. You may as well have been crucified and left to hang amongst the vultures awaiting the sweet, bitter end to life. Unfortunately, these monsters were not merciful creatures. At first, they attempted to coax information out of you, seeing if they could unlock all of the inner workings of the pro heroes and utilise this for their nefarious deeds. When it became clear that you weren't so easily broken, they decided that you would make a decent venting dolly. You sought to escape once.

"That was a big mistake... hero."

Due to your weakened state, they quite easily recaptured you and they were not happy. They could have just killed you. Part of you wishes they did. No. Instead, they opted for a more fitting punishment: they took away your quirk. More ridicule and abuse is all that followed, is all you had to keep your wavering sanity occupied.

You felt close to your end.

An eventual rescue tore you away from your imprisonment but at what cost? You couldn't even discern the reality from a nightmare at that point. Your saviours, some heroes on the other side of the country, made sure that you were immediately admitted to a hospital. The physical wounds were in need of major attention but the mental scars ran so much deeper.

It probably would have been easy enough to call all of your friends, to ask for help from a familiar face, but a chain would heavy your hand any time you'd reach for the phone. You couldn't even bring yourself to call your two favourite boys.

With months of gruelling therapy out of the way, you now have a home - a new home - that you can call yours and a typical civilian job to keep the money coming in. You may be somewhat established back into society but you are merely a shell of what once was, a sauntering after image of the person you used to be. It had taken countless sessions just to counter your agoraphobia but a slithery vine is quick to entangle your spine any time you choose to leave your home. The darned thing clenches and digs its thorns in, threatening to jolt your head into a spasm but you always fight the urge.

That day wasn't much different. To begin with, at least.

After your usual mental prepping and throwing your cap on, you take the leap of faith from your doorstep and trudge along for your weekly grocery run. All in all, it seemed it was going to be fairly standard; weave in and out of people, make no eye contact, get the goods, and go home. It wasn't like it was late on your way back either but, with the winter season, that night was soon rolling in. You notice another set of footsteps trailing behind you, which certainly isn't helping. It could just be that pesky paranoia settling in but this person has been hot on your tail for a few minutes now. Still having some streets to go, you curse your blunder in not choosing a location more in-city. In an attempt to get home faster without displaying your fear, you ever so slightly pick up the pace. The individual appears to do the same and you are ready to run. The muscles in your calves tighten in anticipation of a quick escape.

That's when it happened: a chance encounter that reduced you to tears.

"Hey!" an all-too-familiar voice beckons from behind you.

Anxiety prickles your skin for different reasons than before. There's no way it's him. Surely not.

Oh, but it is.

The great hero Dynamight had been making his rounds in the city, keeping an astute eye out for anything amiss but also for you. It may seem outlandish for him to still be looking for you after almost three years but this is Bakugo. He's not one to give up. That's probably why he's grown more calloused in this time. He hasn’t been able to heal. To move on. The night still haunts him though he never lets that show. His cold heart had grown even heavier and colder since that day. He barely says a word - more so than usual. The man eats at himself over the whole situation. What could he have done differently? Is there actually anything he could have actually done? If he can’t even save a comrade, a person he cares so deeply about, is he even worthy of the title of hero? Perhaps that is another driving force to keep searching for you. It may seem crazy but at least he hasn't lost his hope. Not like they did. How could they all just assume you dead like that? How could they give up on a friend? A fellow pro hero? Not him. Not ever and nor Kirishima. That redhead, as much of an idiot as he may be, is the only one who stuck by Bakugo's headstrong tenacity over the years. He shakes the thoughts from his head for about the umpteenth time just that day alone.

It seemed as though it would be another afternoon of quiet. One might say that's a nice change of pace but some individuals like to be kept busy. Bakugo stopped for one of his annoying fans when he caught a flash from the corner of his eye. It almost looked like... no. It couldn't be. Wait... is it? His gaze has never once failed him before. The calls of the young boy were lost to him, his feet moved without his consent. He'd recognise that stupid hat anywhere. It wasn't even a matter of questioning the legitimacy before he was practically tailgating the unsuspecting individual. It didn't take long until it was just the two of them walking along the darkening street. His heart hasn’t beat this hard since that terrible day. He shakes his head, almost grows angry. What if it is you? What will he do? A deep breath. Just keep focusing on the task at hand - one that seems to be slipping from him the longer this cat-and-mouse chase drags out. His tracks aren't exactly subtle given how the freshly falling snow crunches and groans beneath his weight. The speed picks up and he knows he has to say something before his "prey" runs off. He has opened and closed his mouth several times to speak up to her but he backs out every time. Goddamnit Bakugo just say something. He growls to himself and closes his eyes. His fists clench beneath his gauntlets. He can’t believe he is about to do this. He must be crazy.

Finally, somehow managing to find his own voice, he calls out. "Hey!"

He didn't know what else to say. He didn't want to call out that name in case his assumption was wrong. The figure stops and slowly turns around to face him. Bakugo stares a moment longer before slowly walking over to get a closer look. His heart punches against his ribcage when he's no more than a meter in front of that familiar face. There have been some changes, of course, but he would recognise those eyes anywhere - your eyes. He looks back and forth between them before letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head. He closes his eyes and rests a hand on her shoulder, an action that is hesitant but proves the reality of your existence at this moment. All he can do is keep his eyes closed as everything tries to catch up to him. Eventually, he takes in a deep sigh and slowly looks up at you. His expression holds a mixture of sad and relived and some exhaustion like he just got done with a war.

"How long, (Y/n)?"

At first, you haven't a clue what he's talking about until it hits you like a steel pipe to the cheek. You had gotten so caught up in the situation, Katsuki Bakugo slowly trailing towards you with an unease you had never witnessed in him before. Not like this. A million and one thoughts spurry around your head but, at the same time, you are also completely blank. Crimson eyes pierce right into your soul, attempting to coerce your tongue for the words but still nothing. You can't help the nausea in your stomach when it dawns on you just how mad he may get. You already envision the blade of his teeth slicing through you.

"They... I was discharged from a hospital in Hachinohe almost... almost four months ago."

It all comes down on him like a sack of bricks. Understandably, he is pissed - unequivocally burning in damnation of the truth that you are alive and have been roaming the streets for so many months and against his knowledge no less. It doesn't matter if he had been in the middle of a battle; he would have been there for you in a heartbeat. Growing more painful, he rubs at the migraine pounding against his temples. He wipes his forehead as if making up for the fact that there are no tears to dry. He doesn't know how to cry right now. The pressure and strain amidst his palms shake his nerves to no end.

"And you didn't call?!" he screams over his crackling throat. "I would have come for you! We would have come for you!"

How could you call? You were so sure that everyone was better off without you, that you weren't needed in their lives. By the time you had been freed, everyone had become more well-established heroes in society. They don't need you. They moved on. That's how you thought of it, at least. Your attempted explanation of this only angers him further but he breathes past the frustration when he realises how worked up you're getting. What happened to you for you to think such awful things?

"I'm not sure where you got this narrative of not being needed," he sighs and looks away. "Do you have any idea what it has been like without you, dumbass?"

The old nickname slips off his tongue so naturally. He'd always call everyone an idiot, stupid, nerd ironically enough, but dumbass? That was reserved for you and for you only, so for it to be said - to be heard - after two years breaks you.

It had been quite a sight, watching you crumble down to the snow-covered floor. He had knelt down, waiting for you to calm down enough to form coherent sentences again. As cohesive as you could against the waves of rainfall spilling from your face, anyway. When things had eventually calmed, he took you back to your apartment and gave you the chance to speak. You managed to tell him little about what you had been through. Each sentence dwindled beneath the weighing sickness that bubbled in your throat any time you tried to get into detail. One thing really stood out to Bakugo, however. He envisioned the mass murder of those bastards for having done this to you, for rendering you quirkless and making you believe such self-deprecating lies.

That was two days ago. Bakugo insisted on you staying around his just to keep an eye on you. You know better than to refuse his help and it's for his own piece of mind as well as yours. He even took the liberty of calling off work for the rest of the week just to make sure you're okay. He never does that, which is probably why a certain redhead is standing at his door, wide-eyed, gawking at you. Once he had caught wind of Bakugo's absence at the agency, he raced over to make sure everything was okay. He could have never anticipated seeing you. The two of you stare at one another, unable to say anything. You take a stand and open your mouth to say something, anything, but the wind is pushed from your lungs when Kirishima gulps you up into his arms. He cries. God, this man cries and sobs with no yield as he just holds you. Restraints don't appear to exist anymore and you spill again, clutching onto him with unceremonious content. He doesn't ask any questions and just weeps into your shoulder, fearing the worst if he were to let go.

Everyone else had assumed you were dead. Why wouldn't they? After two, almost three, years, why would you believe a person to still be alive? Not them. They kept looking, searching, and scouring every last mineral in this damn country to try and find you. Now they have you back in their lives? They swear by All-Might that you will be waited on, pampered, loved, and cared for until they see the remnants of your old self again. It will take time but they waited this long for you, right?

No time in the world is more worth it.

It's probably worth mentioning that I could very clearly hear the chorus to Childish Gambino's song 'Heartbeat' when Kirishima went in for the hug and now it's stuck in my head.

I should also probably work more on WSA but I think I need to do a few one-shots just to get me back in the groove. I hope you enjoyed and sorry if it feels a bit rushed in some areas :')