☆Hiromi's Hollow☆

“No, we're not just talking,” she emphasized. She turned to face me. “We're trying to understand why no one has told you to stop sabotaging yourself for once.”

I couldn't stop the expression that crossed my face. What kind of bullshit were they talking about?

“Sabotaging myself?” I repeated, without moving from where I stood.

“Yes,” she fired back, far too quickly for my liking.

Shimada closed the meeting room door behind me, and I could feel him moving over beside Mizuno, who had suddenly sat down on the edge of Shimizu's desk.

“I don't know what the fuck you're talking about,” I replied, shaking my head as I started to turn on my heel to leave.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, just like everyone else in this damn office,” she shot back.

I took a deep breath before answering. Suddenly, I realized all six of them were watching me as if this were some kind of scheduled intervention, and that alone was enough to make me snap.

“And who the fuck asked for your opinion?” I barked, throwing the glove I'd been holding since I walked into the room onto the desk. “Besides, you're wrong.”

Wrong.

My own words echoed back at me, because that was exactly what I was trying to avoid. Being wrong, the way I had been with Nishiyama. I didn't want to make the same mistake with the next victim, with the folder, with the gaps and the roadblocks from Public Safety.

With Rekoiru. Especially with her.

None of them understood a damn thing. They thought it all came down to overtime, too little sleep, or working too much, as if the problem could be solved by sending me to some fucking spa. As if I could simply decide to stop thinking about it. As if any of them could explain to me what it was Rekoiru actually wanted.

“We're not,” Kirishima broke the silence for the first time, lowering the temperature of the argument. I looked at him in disbelief.

“Oh, really?”

“No,” he repeated without backing down. His voice was calm—far too calm after the exchange with Okamoto. “We're worried.”

He didn't even blink when he said it, damn it. And he used that voice that meant he'd already made up his mind. The problem was that the decision now involved making my life a pain in the ass.

“I didn't know I was paying you to be my babysitters.” The words came out harsher than I'd intended, but almost no one reacted.

“Oh my God, someone knock some sense into this idiot,” Okamoto said with a bitter laugh. “This is exactly what I mean. No one can say a single thing to you without you getting defensive.”

“Okamoto.” Kirishima's voice stopped her cold before she could continue her monologue, and long before I could fire back. It earned him an irritated click of her tongue before she fell silent. “We're not saying this to attack you, Bakugou.”

“Well, that's exactly what it sounds like.” My answer drew a deep sigh from him.

...except she's NOT the OC he's actually going to fall in love with.

Okamoto walked over to Katsuki's desk, and he looked up as the woman leaned forward, resting both fists on the desk. Her straight, dark blue hair fell slightly forward, emphasizing the angled cut that left the back of her neck more exposed. “Three days?” Her brow furrowed as she studied Katsuki's expression closely. He didn't pull back from the sudden invasion of his space. He remained perfectly still, waiting. “We spent five weeks cleaning floors and working nights without a break, and you give us three days?” “You got three more than I was expecting,” he replied without raising his voice more than necessary. His nose wrinkled slightly in a gesture not unlike a dog about to start a fight.

I was writing a Todoroki x Reader smut scene and suddenly walked up to my boyfriend like:

"When you orgasm... what physical reactions do you actually notice?"

He just stared at me like I'd completely lost it and went, "Kimochii."

Which has to be the least useful and least specific answer a Japanese person could've given me. I had to insist "No, seriously. This is research."

Bakugou, don’t look at me like that.

I can love two emotionally constipated heroes at the same time. 😭

So... before I inevitably drag poor Todoroki into another Bakugou jealousy plot, help me choose. 😭

P.S. Just kidding.

“The rankings come out in a month and a half,” you say casually, but I know it isn’t really about the rankings. It’s about time. “In two and a half months, I defend my thesis.”

I nod without looking away. Then you roll onto your side, resting your head on your hand as you settle closer to me.

“And we’re getting married in less than five,” you finish, narrowing your eyes just a little. “You’re not going to change your mind at the last minute, are you?”

It sounds like a joke, but I can hear the faint thread of uncertainty in your voice, one that doesn’t show itself very often. My hand moves on instinct, brushing through your hair as it frames those attentive eyes waiting quietly for my answer. I shake my head.

“Of course not,” I say before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“That’s good,” you add, slipping right back into your usual self. “I knew it was a silly question.”

Even though the conversation seems to be over, you don’t pull away. Instead, you take advantage of the kiss I left on your forehead to bury your face against my neck, at first as though you were simply hiding there, and then you leave a small kiss against my skin.

It’s intimate in a different way from the intimacy we’ve built over these past months. But I don’t mind. If anything, it awakens a new kind of curiosity I’d never allowed myself to feel. I stay where I am, unmoving, feeling the warmth of your breath against my neck.

“Shoto...” Your voice sounds vulnerable, and suddenly the air around me feels heavy.

“Yeah?” I ask before searching for your eyes.

I don’t let you go. I don’t want to. The only thing I feel is a deep desire to have you even closer, to kiss you, to bury my face against your skin.

“Are you still overthinking everything?”

You draw another smile from me with such ease because the way you read me is almost overwhelming.

“A little.”

I feel your body move a little closer, and my hand leaves your face to help you close the distance. Hesitantly, I rest it against your waist.

“You don’t have to guess what I want,” you say as though it were the simplest thing in the world, because words have always been your language. You pause. “Just ask me.”

My fingers tighten slightly, an unconscious attempt to feel your skin instead of the fabric separating us. It’s almost funny, because with you, everything feels simpler.

“What is it that you want?” I ask, barely recognizing my own voice. It sounds far steadier than I actually feel.

And that is when I realize that everything else has disappeared. Everything: the time we have to wake up tomorrow, the guest list our parents keep changing, the interviews I have this week, even the plant hanging in your room that already needs water fades from my field of vision. Because now the only thing I am capable of seeing is your open eyes, full of trust, your warm and steady breathing mingling with the lavender scent from the rest of the tea sitting on the nightstand.

“You.” There is no hesitation in your expression when you say it. Apparently, the answer has been there long before I ever dared to ask. “Closer to me.”

*********

I just released a new Patreon one-shot: Hanahiraku (花開く) 🌸

A Todoroki x Reader arranged marriage story about learning that love isn’t always loud — sometimes it’s found in the quiet moments, in trust, and in choosing each other every day.

It will be available publicly on AO3 in a few weeks, but Patreon readers can read it now, including a special intimate scene that will remain exclusive there. 🤍

Every time I'm writing a Bakugou x Reader fic and I need him to get jealous...

Todoroki gets dragged into it against his will.

Poor guy somehow always ends up as the unwilling third wheel. 😭

Ironically, after using him like this for so long, I'm now writing a Todoroki x Reader arranged marriage one-shot... and I'm completely obsessed with it.

“I understand Shimizu has been reviewing older material,” he said at last, realizing I wasn’t going to engage in small talk. Watanabe watched me in silence, not even offering a smile before continuing. Instead, his fingers interlaced as he held my gaze—he looked exhausted.

“You’re an exceptional hero, Bakugou. That’s why I’ll speak to you honestly.”

Honesty, sure.

“The Nishiyama case involves important people. Important institutions. If certain information becomes public irresponsibly… the social consequences would be severe.”

Consequences.

The chair he was sitting in shifted slightly. I understood he was waiting for me to respond this time—to see if I understood what he meant. And me? I kept replaying his word in my head. That was what this was about. Not “victims,” not “missing persons.” Consequences… he was talking about stability. Something unpleasant twisted in my chest.

“How convenient,” my voice echoed off the white walls.

“This is not a joke,” he replied seriously, without changing his tone.

“I never said it was,” I added, my eyes drifting to the back shelf. Among all the standard, procedural decor, a small framed photo at eye level showed a woman in her forties sitting on a bench under a parasol. Next to her, a teenager who looked like he didn’t want to be there held onto his headphones.

“The hero society works because people believe in it,” he replied. But that sentence only made the growing sense of rejection inside me worse—the same feeling that had started building the moment the secretary received me.

“The hero society also worked before the war,” I shot back, turning my attention to him. The silence lasted only a second, but it was enough for both of us to feel it.

“There are situations where controlled damage prevents something worse,” he said. My jaw tightened. I didn’t want to turn this into a fight either—but what the hell was I supposed to do with that?

“You talk like they’re numbers.”

“I speak as someone who keeps a country running.”

Chapter 4 is now available to read for free on Patreon.

“You’re not going to save anyone if you don’t even stop to eat,” he added, easing his posture, like the entire argument could be reduced to something that simple.

I opened my mouth to respond. I wanted to tell him to fuck off. But I simply couldn’t.

“Don’t make me call your mother about this.”

I looked at him for a second.

So I'm spending the day imagining Katsuki using his explosions as a heating pad while complaining:

Here's an excerpt from a bonus POV chapter I wrote.

No spoilers: Based only on this excerpt, who do you think the narrator is?

Every time I write a Bakugou story, I run into the same problem.

One part of me wants to ship him with Midoriya. Another wants to ship him with Kirishima. Another wants to ship him with me.

☆He wouldn't fall for someone timid or insecure. Bakugou has never been attracted to people who constantly doubt themselves. He'd be drawn to someone with a strong personality who isn't afraid to challenge him.

☆He wouldn't waste time dancing around his feelings. His version of flirting would be: "You eaten yet? No? Come on, let's get lunch."

☆He'd still struggle to say "I'm sorry," but he'd always correct his mistakes. I can absolutely see his partner telling him, "Changing your behavior isn't enough. I need you to acknowledge what you did." And eventually... he would.

☆If his partner had painful periods, he'd use his quirk to help with the cramps. He'd act like it's a chore, but he wouldn't wait to be asked. He'd take one look at her and go, "You've got that 'my uterus is trying to kill me' face again." Then he'd flop down on the couch, pull her against him, and warm her stomach without another word.