star !!

i. midoriya — izuku can get really intense during sparring without even realising it, so you know full well it wasn’t his intention to go so hard on you today, but it honestly still hurt a bit. you’re sitting propped up against the wall on the training mats when izuku jogs over to you, first aid kit and several bags of ice in hand. “y/n! i got you some ice for the bruising—do they still hurt? is your head okay? i promise i didn’t mean to push you so far today!”

“it’s fine, izuku. thank you,” you say softly as you take an ice pack from his outstretched hand, sucking in your breath as you press it to your thigh. he’d gone a bit overboard with blackwhip, leaving numerous rope-like bruises scattered about your limbs as well as a few scrapes and cuts from the general combat. izuku looks down at you with glassy eyes and small frown contorting his features, quickly dropping to sit beside you.

“it’s not fine though, i hurt you, y/n,” he murmurs quietly, lacing his fingers between yours as he checks over you for any further injuries. he carefully smoothes bandaids over any smaller wounds you have, calloused fingers tracing your skin with utter delicacy, as though he’s afraid to hurt you any further. when he finishes patching you up, he places a soft kiss to your forehead and pulls you into a warm hug, muttering countless apologies under his breath.

k. bakugou — katsuki wasn’t one to back down from a fight, so the instant he agreed to spar with you, you knew he was going to put his full effort into it. what you didn’t really think about was the after effects of his extreme and relentless fighting style, leaving you panting and exhausted as you leaned against a wall behind you. katsuki jogged over to you the instant he thought something was wrong, heart dropping when his eyes landed upon the burns he’d left on your skin. 

“shit…why didn’t you say somethin’? dumbass…” he grumbles as if it was entirely your fault. when you don’t respond to his insults, he clicks his tongue in frustration and storms off to pick up the first aid kit, complaining under his breath the whole way. “sit.” he commands as he arrives back to you, pointing to the floor. you obey and he silently kneels beside your trembling frame, sorting through the first aid kit to find what he needs. 

despite his angry appearance, he handles you and your injuries with utter care and tenderness, gently applying ointment over your burns before wrapping them in small bandages. every now and then, he’ll check back in with you and make sure you’re doing okay, always stopping for a minute if you need a quick break or if its hurting too bad. when he finishes, he sits on the mat beside you and pulls you into his chest, quietly grumbling, “m’sorry…tell me when i’m too much next time, idiot.”

s. todoroki — shoto was always incredibly controlled during training, measuring every movement and attack to make sure he never crossed a line or hurt you without meaning to. but today had gotten a little out of hand. one blast of ice had knocked you off your feet, and while you'd managed to avoid the worst of it, your shoulder had taken the impact pretty hard. by the time training ended, you were sitting quietly on the sidelines with an ice pack pressed against your arm and several bruises beginning to form.

the second shoto noticed you hadn't gotten up with everyone else, he immediately made his way over. "are you hurt?" he asks quietly, kneeling beside you with a slightly melancholic look in his gaze. his eyes scan over every visible injury with his brows furrowed in frustration. "you should've told me sooner." his voice is calm, but you can hear the concern peeking beneath it. before you know it, he's already gone to grab the first aid kit.

he returns a minute later and carefully settles beside you, gently taking your injured arm into his hands. every movement is slow and deliberate as he cleans up your scrapes and wraps your shoulder. "does this hurt?" he asks every few seconds, adjusting immediately if you even flinch. when he's finished, he quietly drapes his jacket over your shoulders and sits beside you for a while longer. after a moment, he lightly leans against your side, head propped against your healthy shoulder. "i'm sorry, y/n. i'll be more careful next time."

e. kirishima — eijirou always treated every sparring match like a chance to improve and get stronger, to push each other further. now unfortunately, that usually meant he got a little carried away. by the end of today's training session, you'd both taken quite a beating, but your bruises were definitely worse. small cuts and scrapes from where his hardening had hit you were littered unevenly all about your skin. you were sitting on one of the benches trying to catch your breath when eijirou finally got a good look at you.

"woah, y/n!" he practically yells, running over with wide eyes. "i did all that?" he points at the collection of bruises and wounds scattered across your arms and legs and immediately looks horrified. his shoulders droop incrementally as he brings a hand to his mouth, taking in all the damage. before you can reassure him, he's already sprinting off toward recovery supplies.

when he comes back, he's carrying enough ice packs to treat an entire class. he drops down beside you and carefully presses one into your hands before helping patch up the rest of your injuries. despite how rough he looks, his touch is surprisingly gentle—every time you wince he apologises about ten times. once he's sure you're okay, he throws his arms over your shoulders and pulls you into a bear hug, pressing a small kiss into your hair. "seriously, i'm sorry. next time i’ll go easier, okay?"

d. kaminari — denki had spent the entire sparring match trying to impress you, which honestly should've been your first warning sign as to how this was gonna go. he'd gotten way too excited midway through training and accidentally overdid one of his attacks, leaving you with faint, lightening-like burns spreading over your skin and several scrapes across your arms. now you were sitting against the wall while everyone else packed up, trying to ignore how much everything stung.

"y/n?” denki rushes over the second he spots the bandages someone else had already handed you. his face immediately drops as his eyes scan over the aftermath. "wait, are you actually hurt?" he asks, crouching down in front of you. "oh my god, i hurt you. wow, okay. that's terrible. i'm terrible." he starts rambling so fast you can barely keep up as he frantically searches for the first aid kit.

the moment he finds it, he hurries back and starts helping clean your injuries. his hands shake a little as he applies ointment to your burns, concentrating so hard his tongue sticks out slightly. "sorry, sorry, sorry," he keeps muttering every few minutes. eventually you have to laugh and tell him you're fine to get him to chill out a little. denki visibly relaxes before leaning his head against your shoulder. "didn’t realise i got so carried away, hah…" he sighs, forcing a small laugh. "you can beat me up next time, yeah? anythings on the table—think of me as your new punching bag!"

t. iida —

tenya usually approaches training with strict discipline and precision, always making sure everyone follows proper safety procedures to avoid disaster. but somehow, despite all of that, accidents still happened. during a speed exercise earlier, a poorly timed collision on his part had sent you straight into the ground. now you were sitting in the corner nursing a bruised ankle while the rest of the class cleaned up around you.

the second tenya realised you were limping, he practically teleported to your side. "y/n…why did you not notify me of your injury?" he breathes, remaining clam though there’s a clear tinge of hurt beneath it all. he quickly kneels down to inspect your ankle, expression softening when he notices you struggling not to put weight on it. "my apologies…i should have been paying closer attention."

he returns moments later with medical supplies and carefully helps wrap your ankle. his movements are efficient but surprisingly gentle, making sure the bandage isn't too tight. every so often he'll ask if you're comfortable or if you require anything else. once he's finished, he insists on helping you stand despite your protests. "i will escort you everywhere for the remainder of the day if i must" he says firmly. you laugh at him, and he clears his throat immediately looking away. "and...i am sorry for hurting you."

i. midoriya

izuku’s eyes genuinely light up the second he sees you upon entering the apartment, immediately walking over to wrap you in a hug with much less grace than intended. he tugs you tightly against his chest as his chin settles into the crook of your neck, mumbling sweetly, “i missed you so much, sweetheart.”

you know instantly that he’s drunk with the way he slurs his words and the pungent scent of alcohol still lingering on his breath, prying him off you for a second to get a better look at his face. his cheeks are completely flushed, tufts of curls stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyebrows twisted in thought. “you’re so beautiful…” he tilts his head with the words, eyes scanning over your face face utter intent. “i’m so lucky to have you—do you even know how breathtaking you are? i mean if i were to—”

“how much did you have to drink tonight?” you ask with a giggle, cutting off whatever tangent he was about to go on. 

izuku stares at you for a little too long afterwards as if he genuinely can’t process the question before suddenly responding with wide, glassy eyes, “i don’t remember…a-are you mad at me?” his bottom lip quivers just barely and you can’t help but laugh, quickly guiding him to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. 

k. bakugou

katsukis slams the door behind him as he arrives home, already grumbling under his breath while clumsily kicking off his shoes. he quickly finds you at the kitchen counter, planting his head firmly against your shoulder as scarred arms snake around your waist. you turn to face him with the sudden affection, lifting his head instantly to meet your gaze. “missed you. every other extra there was annoyin’ as hell…” he slurs his words, clearly struggling to stand without swaying. 

katsuki leans in with a surprising passion to kiss you, his advances far too aggressive if anything. smelling the alcohol on him, you immediately shut it down by covering his mouth which deeply offends him by the hurt expression contorting his face. “oi! the hell s’that for?”

he pushes you arm away from his face with a scowl as you ask with a slight giggle, “jesus kats, how drunk are you?” 

“doesn’t matter,” he grumbles, dropping his head to your shoulder once again as you trace absentminded circles across his back. 

you can feel the way he continues to sway unsteadily in your arms and quickly suggest, “how about you get some water and go to bed, hm? promise i’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” surprisingly, he complies, pouting slightly as he clumsily makes his way to the bedroom.

s. todoroki

you hardly realise shoto is even home until he quietly settles on the couch right next to you, hands folded neatly in his lap as he sighs. a moment passes and shoto leans his head to rest upon your shoulder, a hand snaking to hold onto yours. “i missed you.” he says simply, fingers delicately weaving between your own. his voice is a little shakier than usual, small and fragile compared to the steady tone he usually held

“missed you too, sho. you feeling okay?” you ask, bringing a hand to smooth over his back. 

“i feel dizzy…and a little sick…” he mumbles, eyes drifting shut before he forces them back open, fighting sleep with every last ounce of strength he had. suddenly, shoto turns to face you, heterochromic eyes wide and glassy as they land on your face. “you’re beautiful,” he whispers, cocking his head as though to examine your every feature with absolute intention.

“i think you’re drunk, sho.” you giggle, pushing a tuft of red hair behind his ear to get a better look at his flushed face. 

“kaminari challenged me to a competition.” he states plainly with a small sigh. “i…regret joining in now.” you laugh quietly and let go of his hand for just a moment, standing to make your way to the kitchen and get him a glass of water. before you can get very far, a cold hand latches onto your wrist and stops you in your tracks. “where are you going?” he asks with genuine concern, eyebrows furrowed and eyes widened.

“i’m just getting you some water.”

“...can i come?” he stands slowly from the couch, using the armrest as support as he sways unsteadily.

“sure—just please don’t throw up anywhere but the bathroom.” he winds up puking in the sink two minutes later as you get the water, quickly ushering him to the bathroom before he can make any more of a mess. shoto never was one to hold his alcohol well…

e. kirishima

eijirou is over the moon when he walks through the apartment door and sees your face, already grinning ear to ear before you say a word. he’s still laughing about some dumb joke kaminari made as he slips his shoes off and haphazardly throws them into the closet, swaying just slightly with every movement. you don’t need to hear anything he has to say before immediately knowing he’s absolutely plastered. “baby! i missed you so much!” eijirou shouts excitedly, crossing the room to meet you in the kitchen.

you don’t even get a chance to respond before he’s scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around, peppering small kisses all over your face. that joy is quickly overtaken by nausea when he remembers that maybe spinning around so violently like that when he’s nearing blackout drunk isn’t the best idea. “oh shit—” he quickly places you back down and sprints clumsily to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him in his hurry. at least he had the forethought of making it to the toilet before anything.

you jog after him in seconds, holding back you’re laughter in an attempt to make him feel a little bit better about the situation. gathering the majority of his hair gel soaked locks, you quickly pull them out of his face as he spends the next few minutes contemplating his every life choice over the toilet bowl. 

once you’re sure he’s finished, you hand him a wet washcloth to clean up with, sympathetically rubbing his back in big, circular motions. “how you feeling?” you ask softly, tilting your head to get a better look at his face. 

eijirou lets out a sheepish laugh and brings a hand to the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed with the way his cheeks are now completely flushed. “terrible…i told bakugou i could beat him in a drinking competition—and i did! but…” he pauses for a moment, lifting his head to meet your gaze with a shaky smile. “...yeah…”

“i’ll go get you some water baby,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his forehead and giving him on last pat to his shoulder before standing up. “tylonel too?”

“yes please…”

d. kaminari

you hear denki outside the apartment door before you seeing him, talking so loudly to his friends that you were sure every one of your neighbors were woken up by his conversation. as soon as he opens the door and walks in, he’s searching for you. “y/nnn, i’m home!” just as he slips his shoes off, denki spots you lounging on the couch, eyes immediately lighting up as a dopey grin smears across his lips. 

he rushes clumsily across the apartment and collapses on top of you on the cushions, forcing a small groan from your lips with his sudden weight. “i missed you so bad! like i’m telling you, the entire night i was just thinkin’—i miss my beautiful partner!” he rambles excitedly, sitting up a little straighter as he drones on about the night he had and hashes over just how much he missed you like fifty times. 

“denks, how much did you have to drink?” you giggle, cupping his jaw with one hand to examine his face as the other pushes a tuft of golden hair out of his eyes. 

“like this much, i swear!” he whips up his hand and makes a sort of pinching shape with his thumb and pointer, squinting his eyes to exaggerate just how “little” he had. you give him a skeptical look and he immediately folds, running a hand over his face as he slurs, “okay maybe a little more, but it’s not my fault. sero started it!”

“i think you need some water and sleep,” you chuckle, planting a soft kiss to his cheek before standing and offering out a hand to help him up as well.

“will you cuddle with me…? pleaseee y/n,” he whines dramatically, practically hanging off of your shoulder.

“sure thing, but you throw up and i’m murdering you.” denki raises a fist in victory and skips on over to the bedroom, nearly ramming straight into the doorframe on his way.

t. iida

you can tell immediately that tenya’s drunk out of his mind the second he walks through the door despite how obviously he is trying to hide it. his face is completely flushed, small strands of navy hair stuck to his forehead and movements far less graceful than you’d typically expect from him. he nearly topples over with the simple action of taking his shoes and jacket off, now grabbing on the wall beside him for support.

tenya’s glassy eyes widen incrementally the second they land on you standing at the kitchen counter, wasting no time crossing the room to meet you there. “hello, dear. i believe i am slightly intoxicated,” he starts, formally bowing in front of you in some greeting. “but do not fear, i remained safe and did not drive home!” he states prodly with a lopsided smile, planting both hands firmly to your hips.

“how much did you have to drink?” you ask with a giggle, running a hand through his messy hair. tenya leans into the touch with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he snaps them right back open.

“i lost count…” he sighs as though genuinely disappointed in himself for not remembering, eyes glassy as they stare intently into your own. “quite frankly, all i could think about tonight was getting home to you.” you can’t help the gentle warmth that spreads across your chest with his sincere tone, bringing your hand to softly cup his jaw with a smile. 

suddenly, tenya drops his head to your shoulder with a sigh, sliding his hands from your hips to clasp around your waist in a tight hug. with the utmost gentleness, tenya begins peppering tiny kisses along your shoulder, working his way across the area before finally stopping at the crook of your neck and pressing his face close against your warmth. “how about i make you some tea and get you to bed, hm?” you offer, smoothing a hand sympathetically across his back.

he lifts his head from your shoulder, blinking slowly as he answers, “that would be nice…thank you.”

i. midoriya

izuku’s phone buzzes with your text just after midnight. are you awake? he answers back and rushes out the door before you even get to finish typing the next sentence. he knows all too well what it means when you text him so suddenly like this and he wasn’t going to waste a second getting to you.

when you open the door to his frantic knocks, he’s still in his sweatpants and pajama shirt, curls a mess and sticking out at every possible angle, shoes not even tied properly. it’s overtly obvious he ran all the way there. 

a deep worry contorts his features as his eyes scan over your face, expression softening when he notices the tear stains streaking down your cheeks. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into the tightest hug you’ve ever received, shuffling inside the dorm as he closes the door behind him with his foot. 

“...you don’t have to talk until you’re ready,” he says quietly, rubbing a hand in gentle circles across your back. 

“i feel stupid,” you sniffle pathetically into his shoulder, tears dampening his t-shirt in small, uneven blotches. “i should be able to handle this—i’m sorry.” the words come out shaky and meek despite your best efforts.

“don’t say that, y/n.” he pulls back, bringing a hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “you don’t have to handle this alone.” izuku brushes your hair carefully from off your face and behind your ear before pressing a kiss featherlight against your forehead. he stays as long as you need him to, whether that be a few hours or the rest of the night.

k. bakugou

katsuki was out late buying a few things from a nearby gas station when you called him, the tremble in your small voice and hushed sniffles enough to let him know immediately what was going on. he drops everything without a second thought, rushing back to the dorms quicker than he ever had before. 

you’re already crying when he gets there only minutes after your call, clearly slightly winded from running all the way here. katsuki doesn’t waste a second pulling you into his arms upon opening the door, grip impossibly tight, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. “katsuki, i’m s—”

“don’t.” he immediately cuts you off, still refusing to let go of your trembling frame. after a minute or so passes, he finally pulls away and studies your expression with a careful intent you’d never quite seen out of him before. eventually, the two of you wind up laying on your bed in silence, katsuki’s fingers gently intertwined within your own as you stare up at the ceiling. “...talk.” he grumbles, gaze scanning over your face.

“i don’t know what to say, kats.”

“fine then don’t,” he says, tone lacking his usual anger and frustration. “i’ll sit here all damn night if i have to.” his grip tightens incrementally when you finally turn to face him again, face still damp with tears.

“you’d really do that?”

“tch, obviously.” he scoffs, reaching an arm around your shoulder to pull you to rest against his chest. “get some sleep. still have training tomorrow, dumbass.” katsuki gently threads his fingers through your hair and presses a soft kiss against your head as he turns the lights off, making absolutely sure he doesn’t fall asleep before you do.

s. todoroki

shoto realises what’s going on before you even say a word. you’ve been unusually quiet all evening in the dorm common room, digging your nails against your skin as you fight back tears while the class plays games around you. you eventually excuse yourself to your room, but shoto decides to wait just a few minutes before going off to find you. 

you find yourself stuck drowning in the same thought process you had every night before for god knows how long. it always led to someplace you didn’t want to go, but you could never seem to stop it. that was until shoto landed a few, soft knocks to your door. “y/n, it’s me. can i come in?” you hadn’t realised you started to cry until a warm tear slipped past your lashes and down your cheek, quickly swiping it away before he could see. 

shoto looked genuinely concerned when you opened the door, eyebrows twisted and eyes carrying a slight glassiness that wasn’t particularly usual for him. he sits quietly beside you on the bed as rain taps against your window, keeping company without completely crowding you. for a while, neither of you speaks, until you finally break the silence. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

he turns to you immediately. a cold hand wraps itself around yours and lightly squeezes as he speaks, “nothing is wrong with you.” shoto pauses momentarily as you glance up to his face, tears coming on quicker than you’d anticipated. “i think you’re hurting. and that’s okay.”

“i don’t want you to see me like this.”

“why?” he questions quietly, hand never leaving your own.

“it’s not fair to you. i don’t want to burden you or—”

“you’re not a burden. i don’t understand how caring for you could be unfair.” shoto simply leaves it at that and refuses to allow you to question it any further, gently pulling you into a hug as his hand smoothes over your back. he stays there with you the rest of the night, whether you want silence or to actually talk it out. all that matters to him is that you’re safe.

e. kirishima

eijirou knows you better than any other person ever could—it’s no surprise when he instantly spots that you’re having a hard week without needing to say a word. he watches the way you move sluggishly through training and hardly touch your food at meals, or the way you continue to wear hoodies in burning hot weather. he tries not to pressure you to talk to him when you can’t, but eventually he just can’t take seeing you like this a second longer.

you’re lying quietly in your bed, staring a hole into the ceiling when eijirou knocks on your door and breaks through the endless cycle of thoughts. “y/n, can i come in?” you stand and open the door without any questions, immediately sitting back down on the edge of your mattress when he walks through the door. eijirou sits right beside you, instantly pulling you into his chest for a hug when he notices the way your shoulders are shaking. 

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle against his hoodie, hands gripping against him like its the only thing keeping your grounded in the moment. 

“please don’t apologise,” he says, softer than you’ve ever heard him before. a large hand moves to trace comforting circles along your back, his other hand gently threading through the back of your hair. “you don’t have to be tough around me, y/n—i want to help you.”

‘’i just feel so terrible all the time.” what started as quiet tears quickly morphs into full on sobs, soaking his hoodie as you bury your face against him. “i don’t know what to do anymore.” 

you can practically feel the way eijirou’s heart breaks at that, tightening his arms around you as tears prickle just barely at his eyes. “thats okay.” he trembles, head pulling back without loosening his grip to plant a tender kiss over your forehead. “you don’t need to fix everything now—just focus on getting through tonight, yeah?”

d. kaminari

denki has an uncanny ability to tell immediately when your smile is faked. typically, he’d try to make you laugh, maybe with some corny joke or by embarrassing himself in front of the entire class. today was different. something swirled behind your eyes that told him maybe he couldn’t fix this with a stupid joke.

the rest of the class had already go off to their dorm rooms for the night, likely to get some rest for the hours of training aizawa had planned for you tomorrow. you sat quietly on the couch in the common room, fighting back tears just as you had every other day for the past week. denki found you there and silently took his place beside you, hands folded neatly in his lap as he stared at the floor. “i don’t know what to say,” he says.

“me neither.” you force a small, shaky laugh in hopes of lightening the mood but it doesn’t come out the way you intended. 

“so…” he nudges your shoulder lightly, bringing a hand to clasp around your own. “can i just…stay?” you finally turn to face him with those words, lip quivering almost unnoticeably. that was the most anyone had shown they truly cared in weeks. you nodded slowly and denki opened up his arms, allowing you to lay comfortably against his chest. 

he puts on some random movie at the lowest possible volume, but neither of you really pay attention to it. denki’s focus is entirely engulfed by you—your breathing, movements, facial expressions, everything. eventually about halfway through, you finally get yourself to speak. “i’m glad you’re here, denki,” you say, hardly louder than a whisper.

denki presses a featherlight kiss into your hair, smiling just barely. “me too.” 

t. iida

you’ve grown into a habit of calling tenya when your nights get particularly difficult or when the blade resting on your nightstand stares at you for just a little too long. so by now, he knows exactly what’s going on when you call him so late like this, and answers on the first ring. “...i’m sorry,” you tremble through tears, voice muffled in the speaker of his phone.

“you have absolutely nothing to apologise for.” his voice is firm and steady, but still impossibly gentle, just as he always is when handling you. after a few minutes pass, you open your door to tenya standing there with a thermos of tea and a small bag of your favourite snacks. there’s a small smile curving at his lips despite the obvious concern twisting across his eyebrows. “i was unsure of what might be most helpful…” he says softly. “so i prepared several options.”

once he’s made sure you have something to eat or drink, he sits quietly beside you on the bed, wrapping a hand carefully around yours and gently squeezing. “i cannot promise to solve everything tonight.” he starts, bringing his gaze to meet yours. “but i can promise that you will not face it alone.”

 you lip quivers despite your best efforts to stop it. “i feel like i’m too much.” 

husband. the word left her mouth in that oh so gentle tone of hers yet it stung far worse than anything you’d heard before. you shifted just slightly under her weight, swallowing down every emotion, every gut instinct you couldn’t quite form into words just yet. she sighed softly, nuzzling into your shoulder before continuing.

“y’know he’s kind, generous,” she paused, gaze settled on your fingers so softly intertwined. “stable. i think i want stable.” 

and even through your constant uncertainty and facile hope, you knew one thing for certain; you weren’t “stable.” a relationship beyond friends between you never could be. 

in one awful and irreversible moment, you understood fully that you were never going to be chosen.

you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, but it wasn’t like she’d hear it anyway. her grip loosened completely as sleep finally pulled her under, breath evening out to a steady cadence in parallel with your own. eventually, you followed suit, never once freeing your hand from hers.

—

years later, wedding magazines began appearing around her apartment like an invasive species. they sprawled across kitchen counters and coffee tables, each cream colored page full of expensive flower arrangements and over the top cake designs you’d never truly understood the appeal of. you clutched one in your hands as you settled into her couch. the cover displayed a joyful couple sharing a kiss at an altar, a man and a woman.

ochako nervously paced the kitchen as you began to flip through it, expression contorted in deep thought. 

“what about peonies?” she asked.

“you hate peonies.”

“yeah i know, but they’re so romantic!”

“i thought you said they smelled like a hospital,” you chuckled.

“they do smell like a hospital.”

“then don’t get the peonies.”

ochako’s gentle laugh echoed through the space. you could’ve sworn the entire room lit up anytime you heard that laugh. the sound struck you where it always had—low in the ribs, somewhere dangerously close to your heart. “okay, no peonies.”

you glanced up from the magazine as she began scribbling down little notes in a legal pad with a small smile on her face: venues, guests, food and drinks, flowers. 

there was something uniquely humiliating about helping the woman you love plan a future with somebody else. nothing catastrophic nor cinematic. a quiet sort of thing that etched itself deeper into the marrow of your bones every passing second until you could no longer dream of anything else. 

it was a slower kind of erosion. death by devotion.

you learned quite quickly that grief did not always arrive loudly or violently. sometimes it sat politely beside you while discussing centerpiece arrangements. sometimes it smiled and laughed.

sometimes it wore your best friend's face. 

—

ochako started bringing you to cake tastings when izuku was busy with hero work or school preparations. it seemed nearly every other aspect of his life was drowned out by his senseless desire to be constantly busy. whether work or his real life held more importance in his eyes, you may never know.

“he said he feels terrible about missing these things,” she sighed while dragging you through a bakery doorway one rainy afternoon, fingers loosely intertwined with your own. “hero rankings season is insane right now.”

“it’s fine, ochako. i get it.”

“no it’s just—” she paused, frowning. “you don’t mind, do you?”

mind? you wanted to laugh at the thought. instead, you shrugged off your coat and smiled, “somebody has to stop you from choosing a terrible cake.”

her expression brightened immediately. “exactly!”

the bakery smelled overwhelmingly sweet—vanilla and sugar practically coating the air surrounding you. it was a quaint little shop, out of the way compared to most places you were used to in the big city. 

you settled beside her as tiny forks clinked against porcelain plates. ochako kept pushing bites of cake into your mouth without thinking, her own mouth stuffed as well.

“what about this one? i think it's uh…lemon something?” she mumbled.

“this tastes like soap,” you giggled, pushing her hand away from your face.

“you’re insane—this is like, the best one yet!”

“you’re the one marrying midoriya, clearly your taste is compromised.”

she snorted loud enough to make the elderly couple behind you stare. the soft ease that always flowed between you two hadn’t changed since UA. it was something terrifying and utterly beautiful all at once. something that made people take a second look when they passed you—made people question whether you were friends or something more. 

you questioned it all the same, just chose to keep it to yourself as any self-respecting person might.

“you know,” she said suddenly, licking frosting from her thumb, “izuku thinks you’re the only reason i haven’t had a complete breakdown planning this wedding.”

you looked down at your plate. “does he?”

“mhm,” she smiles softly. “he says you know me better than anyone.”

it was true. you did know her better than anyone.

you knew she chewed the inside of her cheek when she was anxious. knew she cried when angry instead of raising her voice. knew she still called her mother after difficult patrols. you knew she liked being held when she couldn’t sleep and that she got quiet when she was unhappy.

you knew she was unhappy now, not immensely, just enough for it to matter. and maybe that was the cruelest part of it all. because she loved izuku. you knew she did. but sometimes, while trying on dresses or discussing apartment renovations or talking absentmindedly about future children, ochako would go strangely distant afterward. like she’d wandered off someplace colder internally.

you recognized that expression because you wore it too.

—

the dress fitting was what nearly broke you entirely. not the vows, nor the ceremony, nor watching izuku cry as she walked down the aisle. it was three weeks earlier in a small bridal shop flooded with golden afternoon light. 

ochako stepped out from behind the dressing curtain wearing white satin and everybody gasped, even the consultant and her mother. you forgot how to breathe. she looked as beautiful as ever, but that wasn’t the problem. the problem was that she looked happy. genuinely and quietly content. like she knew she was standing right where she belonged. 

you wished you could do the same. 

the consultant adjusted the veil carefully before stepping back. “what do we think?”

ochako didn’t answer immediately. she looked at herself in the mirror for a long time, then she turned toward you instinctively. always you. “what do you think?” she asked quietly.

the room around you blurred in just the slightest. you sat and stared at her standing in flowery white lace and pearl buttons in a future you had no place in. beautiful things were unbearable sometimes.

“i think,” you managed carefully, “he’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you.” ochako’s smile then was small and devastating. she looked grateful, like you’d given her permission to take the next step forward. 

the consultant fussed with the train as others around the room began chiming in, praising ururaka for how beautiful she looked, gawking at the dress. her mother teared up beside the mirror. 

ochako stepped down from the platform and moved towards you. “hold this?” she asked, lifting part of the veil into your hands. you nodded instinctively. the fabric was thin and almost weightless as it folded beneath your fingertips. 

a sharp pain lodged itself between your ribs, eyes burning. ochako stared at you from the reflection, eyebrows twisted in worry. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you forced a smile, “just emotional.” 

you hated how natural and easy lying came to you after all these years.

—

the reality—or rather inevitability—of the day slipped further into your mind through small fragments of future promises and forced normalcy. white roses and champagne glasses. nervous laughter around a room full of bridesmaids. countless makeup artists hovering over ochako to perfect her look for the big day. soft piano humming from behind a curtain.

you spent most of the morning mechanically moving through assigned tasks: fixing decorations, answering last minute calls, perfecting bouquets. you latched onto any busy work you could, anything to avoid thinking about it all too hard. 

outside, the weather was unfairly beautiful, amber rays filtering through delicate lace curtains as fluffy white clouds languidly passed. the flowers of the venue gardens almost sparkled in the light. 

ochako found you alone in one of the many hallways less than an hour before the ceremony should begin, carefully adjusting your dress in a mirror hung on the wall. “there you are,” she breathed quietly, a gentle relief coating her tone that made your heart skip a beat. you turned quickly to face her, already forcing a smile. 

she was now fully dressed in white satin regalia and lacey accents, a delicate silhouette suited only to someone as sweet as her. the makeup was subtle enough that she still looked like the same, pink-cheeked girl you always knew. the wedding should be taking place soon, but for now, you could relish in the simple fact that she was still your ochako for some fleeting moment. “you’re hiding,” she giggled gently with the words but they seemed more forced than anything, some attempt to ease her nerves.

“i’m not hiding, just…busy.”

“you’re avoiding me.” your stomach dropped just enough to make you nauseous.

“bride paranoia.” your voice came out thinner than intended.

“no,” she stepped closer, soft fingertips brushing down your forearm before hooking lightly around your hand. you looked away first like the coward you’ve always been. “you’ve been weird all morning.”

“i’m fine, ochako.” silence fell heavy for only a moment before ochako spoke again, honey-smooth voice no louder than a whisper and achingly gentle.

“y/n.” nobody could say your name like ochako did. you finally glanced back up to her, instantly proving to be a huge mistake—because she looked genuinely terrified all the sudden. not just pre-ceremony jitters, something far worse. “i need to ask you something.”

your pulse jumped. “what?”

she hesitated. and for one horrifying and impossibly delusional second, you thought that maybe the world was about to change. maybe she would finally admit what you both know far too well. that maybe she would tell you she loved you.

“do you think i’m making the right choice?” your last flicker of foolish hope died instantly. her fingers intertwined carefully with yours, inching just barely closer, enough to make you question whether this was normal or not. well, it wasn’t ‘normal’. none of this ever could be. but you can pretend. her thumb smoothed gently over your knuckles as she stared into you, desperately waiting for an answer.

“i think,” you paused momentarily, swallowing hard. “midoriya loves you honestly. and you—” a lump quickly surfaced in your throat, abruptly cutting your sentence short as you fought back tears. “you love him.” you lifted a shaky hand to cup her cheek, smiling weakly. “you deserve to be happy, ochako.” 

she sniffled, eyes glassy and conflicting the puffy-cheeked smile spread across her face. “okay,” she breathed softly, as though that was all she could manage without completely ruining her makeup. 

“now lets get out there. the ceremony’s soon.” you left it at that, quickly dropping her hand and pacing down the hallway to take your place beside the alter. ochako stood there for a few moments longer to collect herself before following your lead, leaving silly fantasies of what could’ve been in the dim light of the hallway.

—

the actual ceremony passed in a weird sort of blur. muted and distant, like watching snowfall through thick glass. you remembered bits and pieces instead of any real sequence of the events. 

izuku cried hysterically when ochako walked through the doors, white rose bouquet in hand. she cried as well, but you didn’t miss the way her gaze continuously wandered to yours throughout the entire event. there was an abundance of applause and cheers after the vows, a few tears from family in the front row. 

at some point there was dancing. izuku and ochako started it off, as tradition, waltzing within each others arms to some corny song you couldn’t bear to listen to for another second. eventually, the rest of the guests joined in; you opted for a quieter scene out on the balcony.

the evening air felt cool against your skin, the music and surrounding noise blurring beneath golden lights as you escaped. you leaned carefully against a railing overlooking the gardens and finally allowed yourself to breathe. 

“you disappeared again.” you didn’t need to look to know who it was. you’d recognise that devastatingly sweet tone anywhere. slowly, you turned to face her. she was still draped in that beautiful white gown, hair now falling loosely around her softened features. still beautiful, though that was no surprise. 

“shouldn’t you be with your husband?” you joked lightheartedly. something unreadable flickered across her expression at the word “husband”; you tried to ignore it, assuming it was some lapse of judgement or another foolish hope. 

“i…wanted to find you first.” silence filled the air, punctuated only by the distant thrum of music in the nearby venue. 

“congratulations, again.” you spoke softly, desperate to cut through the tension suffocating you both. ochako smiled weakly, staring at you for just a moment too long. without a word, she closed the space between you and wrapped you tightly in her arms. you froze. ochako hugged everyone, but not like this—never as desperate as this one.

her face pressed gently into your shoulder, sniffling back tears. your hands hovered uselessly over her back for a moment before finally reciprocating, pressing her flush against your frame. she was trembling. “you okay?”

she laughed once shakily against your chest. “yeah.” you both knew full well it was a lie. 

the two of you stood there too long for it still to be considered just friendly. the faint aroma of champagne lingered on her breath and mingled sweetly with the perfume on the curve of her neck. it almost made you sick, in all honesty, heart pounding hard enough to become humiliating. 

“so, this is terrible timing,” she spoke suddenly, voice hushed and trembling. your heart nearly stopped. “but i need to say something before i lose the nerve.” 

ochako lifted her head to meet your gaze once again but never pulled her arms away. like you were the only thing anchoring her to this moment. her body pressed perfectly against your own, like it was destined to be that way. it only made the weight of the situation at hand worse. 

“i think,” she whispered, still smiling as a tear slipped past her lashes and carved a glistening path through her makeup. “part of me always knew.” you stopped breathing, tears filling your eyes quicker than you could process. “you never said it but…i knew.”

your throat burned painfully. ochako reached up and touched your face like you were something fragile that could shatter at any moment. soft fingertips traced your tear-stricken cheek, like soothing some invisible pain through any tangible action she could think of. “i love you, y/n.” she trembled through tears, smiling despite all else.

you laughed weakly, eyes drifting to the floor. “you really waited til after the wedding, huh?”

“i’m sorry.” the worst part was she sounded absolutely genuine. through every late night phone call and unbearable act of devotion—she knew. and still. still. 

it was love enough to grieve, not enough to change the fate you knew well from the start. 

you lifted your head once more to look at her. at the women you loved. at the women who loved you too, in some quieter, insufficient way. someone called her name cheerfully from inside. her husband. ochako flinched almost imperceptibly. like she’d been caught doing something wrong. you glanced up to the voice. he’d already been ushered right back inside by some friends wanting to congratulate him. a sigh of relief escaped you. 

you stepped back first, because if you hadn’t, you might’ve been there all night. “you should go.”

she stood slowly and wiped the tears from beneath her eyes, carefully patting the makeup to blend over the paths they carved before anyone else could notice. “okay,” she spoke softly, nodding her head. neither of you moved. then ochako leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to your cheek. weightless and brief, the kind that could be considered “friendly” if you wanted it to badly enough. 

when she pulled away, she looked at you one last time with an expression you’d spend years trying to forget. she looked young, like the soft hearted girl you’d first fallen in love with years ago in the halls of UA. painfully familiar. painfully beautiful.

finally she turned and walked into the golden light flooding the lively venue, walked into the future she’d chosen despite all human desire. the balcony doors closed behind her. you stood alone in the moonlit air trying desperately to hold back the sobs churning in your throat, listening faintly to the sound of celebration continuing without you. 

when you realised this hurt was not one to die quickly, you wiped your tears and joined the celebration once more, forcing yourself to push down the gnawing feeling just like you had every other day you spent with ochako. you knew from that moment you’d never feel entirely satisfied and neither would she, but you could live with it. 

sometimes loving someone means being okay with existing as a mere memory.

i. midoriya

the whole stupid argument starts simply because izuku’s been worried about you. he sees how you’ve started to overwork yourself again, skipping meals to train and never giving yourself a chance to stop, so after your millionth “i’m fine”, he decides to finally say something. “you can’t keep doing this y/n, it’s not healthy!” he insists, hands gesturing aggressively in emphasis.

“zuku i’m fine—stop making this a bigger deal than it is!”

“you’re not fine and it’s a big deal to me!” his voice raises incrementally, trying to stay cool but only growing more frustrated each time you brush him off. “why won’t you just let me help you?”

“because i don’t need you to treat me like i’m fragile!” you snap back.

“thats not what i—” his shoulders slump with guilt. “i’m scared something’s gonna happen to you…” his voice cracks so unexpectedly that you just freeze. he rubs at his eyes in an attempt to get the tears to go away but they don’t, one trailing quickly down his cheek. 

“sorry…” he laughs weakly, hands swiping at the onslaught of unexpected tears. you pull him into a hug without even thinking about it and he instantly melts into your touch, tears beginning to soak into your shirt as he buries his face against your neck. “...i just love you a lot.” he mumbles against your skin, pulling you tighter against his body.

k. bakugou

this was by far the stupidest argument you’d ever had with katsuki—which means a lot because katsuki will find a way to argue about absolutely anything. he must’ve had an exhausting week beforehand because the whole thing started over you insisting on carrying seven grocery bags at once for whatever reason. halfway back to the apartment from the parking garage, you drop three, a few jars cracking and half your vegetables now coated in asphalt. “dammit y/n, i told you to let me help!” he growls, angrily picking up everything that had spilled from your carelessness.

“i had it!”

“obviously you fuckin’ didn’t!” 

“stop acting like i can’t do anything myself, bakugou!”

“that’s not what i’m saying, don’t fuckin’ twist my words!” he throws his hands in the air aggressively.

“then what are you saying, huh?” 

he opens his mouth to respond, nothing comes out. something unfamiliar twists across his face, frustration mixed with genuine hurt. “i’m sayin’...” he looks away as he continues speaking. “...i like takin’ care of you sometimes…” he scoffs at himself as if the words weren’t his own. out of absolutely nowhere, his eyes start watering, a hand immediately moving to cover them. “dammit…don’t look at me.” he mutters shakily, swiping aggressively at his eyes. 

“katsuki…” you can’t help but laugh just barely at the absurdity of the situation, setting down the remaining bags to meet him.

“don’t fucking laugh at me, dumbass!” he shouts, voice still a little unsteady. you do your best to stifle your remaining giggles and wrap your arms gently around his waist. after a long moment, he hugs you back, still scowling as he says, “mention this to anyone and you’re dead.”

s. todoroki

it happens, surprisingly enough, as the two of you are putting together an ikea bookshelf, of all things. its been three hours since you started, and at this point you’re convinced the instructions might as well be in another language with how confusing they are. “this piece doesn’t go here.”

“dude, yes it does, look at the instructions.”

he glances down to the instructions, then back to the shelf. “it doesn’t fit.”

“sho, you’re holding it upside down.” he looks to the part he’s hold in his hand and back to the guide. you’re right. he lets out a small sigh and flips the piece without a word as you giggle beside him. somehow, your small laugh sparks something inside shoto, and the two of you start genuinely bickering—over an ikea bookshelf. before long, you’re both just talking over eachother and getting nowhere productive with the conversation. shoto lets out another sigh. “i don’t like arguing with you…” he mumbles, eyes low.

“then stop arguing,” you chuckle with the words because after all, he was the one who initiated the argument. 

“...i’m trying.” he goes eerily quiet after that. you look over only to see that his eyes are now glassy as he blinks rapidly, trying to contain them. 

“...shoto?”

“i’m frustrated.” he says plainly, voice so calm it takes you a moment to register that he’s literally crying—actual tears are slipping down his face. he wipes them away almost absentmindedly. “i’m sorry,” he says quietly. “this…happens sometimes when i’m overwhelmed…”

your expression softens instantly at that, dropping the screwdriver and cupping a hand to his jaw. he sniffles as he looks over to you, expression practically blank save for the tears. “how about we return this and by a prebuilt one, yeah?”

“please.”

e. kirishima

the entire argument begins because he got hurt in training again, and in his stubbornness, refused to tell you until you found out yourself through a friend. he does this far more often than you’d ever think he would, and for what reason, you have zero clue. “it wasn’t that bad,” he explains, trying to reassure you. 

“not that bad? eiji, you cracked two ribs! in what world is that ‘not bad’?” 

“they’re like basically healed now…” he mumbles sheepishly, averting your gaze completely as a hand rubs nervously over the back of his neck. 

“eijirou!” you scold him, because its overtly obvious through his tone and mannerisms that he knows full well he’s in the wrong and still refuses to admit it. as much as you love the guy, he can be extremely difficult in moments like these. 

“i just didn’t want to worry you.”

“i’m gonna worry more if you keep hiding these things from me!” you push forward, now just genuinely frustrated with the situation. he keeps trying to explain himself and make up bullshit excuses nonetheless, emphasizing things with gestures that instantly tell you he’s not being honest again. he’s always been a horrible liar. the more you talk and express your concern, the more the guilt piles inside him, until finally, it gives. “i wasn’t trying to lie to you baby, i swear…”

“then why didn’t you tell me?”

“…because…” his voice gets smaller, a little unsteady. “i hate disappointing you…” he laughs once, though it already sounds suspiciously shaky. “i know i’m supposed to be tough,” tears spill with the words without warning, tiny rivulets streaming down his cheeks. “...and i messed up.” he sniffles weakly and swipes the tears from off his cheeks in embarrassment.

“eiji,” you say firmly, his head instantly flicking up to meet your gaze. “you’re worrying me. i could never be disappointed in you,” you can’t help the small giggle that rises in the absurdity of this conversation, reaching a hand to cup his cheek and wipe away the tears. 

“...you mean it?” he says weakly, now smiling.

“of course, baby.”  he instantly tugs you into the tightest bear hug of all time and starts rambling on about how he hates fighting with you and doesn’t want this to ever happen again, utterly sincere in all his teary words.

d. kaminari

denki had completely forgotten the date you scheduled weeks in advance, which on its own you might’ve let slide, but this was the second time he’d let it “slip his mind.” once again, he got himself caught up in his friends shenanigans and completely wrecked the night you’d been excitedly counting down the days for. at this point, it felt like he just didn’t want to go on the date at all. by the time he finally arrives home, you’re still in your date night outfit, and understandably upset. “i’m sorry, baby!!” he exclaims, reaching a hand to grip your wrist as you begin walking away.

“you’ve said that four times.” you answer coldly.

“because i mean it!”

“then why does it keep happening, denki? do you not wanna go out with me?”

“i do, y/n, c’mon please just listen to me!”

“no! i’m so sick of your excuses denki!” you shout, far harsher than you’d intended. denki visibly shrinks at your words, immediately going quiet. his bottom lip wobbles almost unnoticeably eyes gaining a slight shine as tears begin to form. 

“i’m not trying to be a bad boyfriend—i promise i’m not, y/n,” he confesses shakily. “please, i-i can make it up to you baby.” a tear slips down his cheek that startles even him. “why am i crying oh my god,” he laughs unsteadily, swiping at the tears that refuse to stop with the palm of his hand while avoiding eye contact with you at all costs. you can’t help but smile just a little.

“you’re not a bad boyfriend, denks,” you breathe as you step closer to him, threading a hand through the back of his hair as he glances back up to you. “just for the love of god please be more aware of the time,” you chuckle lightly, tugging him into a hug.

“promise..?” he whispers shakily, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“promise.”

t. iida

the two of you decide last minute that, why not just walk to your date instead of boring old driving? walking could be fun—it lets you see a little more of the city, gets some steps in, gives you a chance to talk with tenya for a little while beforehand. well, it would’ve been nice, if you didn’t find yourselves constantly bickering about what directions to take. the map looked like it was point right…or maybe left? you couldn’t exactly tell. the navigation was clearly messed up in some manner, you naturally, you both had different opinions on what turns you were actually supposed to be taking.

ten minutes pass and it’s very obvious that you’ve both gotten lost. “this does not appear to be correct,” tenya sighs, adjusting his glasses as he glances at your surroundings. “...perhaps there has been a slight naviagtional error…” he admits, studying the map on his screen intently.

“...slight? tenya, we’re in the park. i told you we should’ve gone left back there!” 

“that would not have improved our situation in the slightest! we wen’t wrong when you insisted on going straight at the intersection.”

“don’t try to blame this on me now! your shitty map led us the wrong way.”

“i am not blaming anything on you.”

“yes you are!”

tenya suddenly throws his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh, exclaiming, “i simply wanted our date to proceed smoothly!” his voice wobbles quite obviously halfway through the sentence, the both of you quickly turning quiet at his sudden outburst. his throat tightens as he attempts to blink back the tears that are quickly approaching. “oh dear…” he removes his glasses, looking thoroughly confused by his own emotions. he attempts a few times to pat his eyes dry, but for whatever reason, the tears just keep coming. “this is…quite unexpected.”

you can’t help but smile just a little, giggling slightly as you ask, “are you crying because we got lost?” you step closer to him, rubbing a hand over his broad back. 

he gives a tiny, embarrassed nod before answering, “i had planned this date quite meticulously.” you laugh so hard you have to lean into his side to stay upright. “i fail to see what is so amusing about this!” he says, attempting at his usual firm tone those his voice still shakes nonetheless.

“you’re adorable.” his face instantly flushes a bright red as he places his glasses back on his nose, turning to face you now.

“that is not helpful, love.” you catch the slightest smirk he tries to hide with the words, quickly pulling him into a tight embrace.

s. aizawa

 the little spat is honestly ridiculous in hindsight. you’re upset because shouta’s been overworking himself again, staying up late grading papers and working on reports. he hardly gets sleep at all at this point, and it genuinely hurts to see him so exhausted. so naturally, you start stealing his laptop before bed to force him into sleep. “where is it, y/n?” he sighs tiredly, low low and rough. 

“the bed.” you answer plainly, face deadpan.

he pushes his tongue to his cheek in frustration, bringing a hand to smooth over his forehead as he speaks, “you and i both know it’s not there. where is it? i won’t ask again.”

“in bed! guess you just have to come sleep now huh?” you say in a sarcastic sort of tone, grabbing his wrist as you try, and fail, to drag him towards the bedroom.

“i have work to do, y/n.” he says firmly, clearly getting more upset now. 

“yeah and you also have eyebags fifty shades darker than your skin. its not healthy to sleep so little, sho!” 

he almost smiles, then decides better of it and instead rubs over his face with both hands. “i’m tired.”

“almost like that’s exactly why i’m doing this, genius.” he’s so exhausted that all his emotions are practically just sitting right on the surface. without warning, his eyes start to water. he looks almost annoyed about it. “...are you..?”

i. midoriya

izuku knows something’s up before you say a single word. you trudge into the apartment after a long patrol, shoulders slumped, eyes bloodshot and heavy. you’d typically greet him excitedly the instant you walked through the doors, but today, your greeting comes out hardly above a whisper as you set your bags to the nearest counter. 

izuku looks up from the couch with a small frown. “rough day?” you nod with a sigh and he opens his arms for you without another word, moving over to make room for you on the cushions. you collapse into his arms with an exhausted groan the second you’re close enough, scarred hands quickly finding their way to trace absentminded shapes over your back as the other threads gently through your hair. “let me take care of you for a bit, yeah”

while you go off to take a shower, izuku disappears into the kitchen, making sure that the second you’re out, your favourite meal will be waiting for you at the table, your comfort movie humming in the background. afterwards, he’ll gently brush through your hair as you lean back into his touch, massaging your shoulders with surprising skill after watching a few tutorials. you fall asleep curled into his broad arms on the couch, and he carries you back to bed once the movie finishes, pressing a tiny kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “goodnight, sweetheart.”

k. bakugou

katsuki notices instantly with how quiet you are arriving home, taking off your shoes and haphazardly throwing your bag to the ground without a single word. you walk slowly to the couch and collapse into the cushions with a sigh, hands smoothing over your face. “hell’s your problem?” he grumbles, looking you over with a scowl. his gaze softens incrementally when you answer with silence, clicking his tongue as he stands. “tch, stay there.”

he trudges off to the kitchen without another word, after fifteen minutes,quickly returning with your favourite dinner. without spectacle or making it some big deal, he slides the plate on the coffee table in front of you, muttering, “eat.” when you finish and he notices you still haven’t relaxed, he slumps into the cushions beside you and pats the space between his knees, “c’mere.” 

“what?”

“i said come here,” he grumbles a little louder than the last. you settle in, and he begins working the knots out of your shoulders with surprising gentleness. he mutters in slight frustration under his breath about how tense you are, complaining, “you’ll throw out your damn back if you keep carryin’ stress like this.”  later, he’ll run you a warm bath and shut down any apology you try to give him, saying, “you don’t have to earn bein’ taken care of, idiot.”

s. todoroki

shoto’s oddly skilled at noticing your smaller expressions and tells, so he doesn’t miss the way your eyes look just a touch duller when you finally arrive home. he stands silently at the kitchen island, observing your slow movements and sagged posture with intention. slowly, shoto walks over to you at the door as your sliding your jacket from your shoulders and takes it into his own hands, hanging it carefully on the wall. “you look exhausted,” he says quietly, your only response a forced laugh. 

without another word, he places a hand over the small of your back and guides you to the bathroom, dimming the overhead lights and running you a warm bath. he pours in those bath salts you mentioned you loved once weeks ago, a tiny detail he’d quietly remembered. once it’s all ready, he leaves you with a gentle kiss to give you some privacy.

when you come back, your pajamas are neatly folded for you on the bed, your favourite blanket beside it, freshly washed and warmed with the help of his quirk. a steaming cup of chamomile tea rests at your night stand as well, a lavender scent wafting pleasantly through the air. shoto lays beside you on bed, opening his arms for you to rest comfortably on his chest as his fingers thread gently through your hair. “you don’t have to talk about it,” he breathes, quickly continuing, “just know i’m here, dear.”

e. kirishima

eijirou’s smiling ear to ear the second you get home, excitedly hopping up from the couch to greet you, until he catches that utterly exhausted look across your face, movements slowly and weighed down by some invisible force. his smile fades to concern in seconds, rushing over to you at the door. “what’s goin’ on, sweet girl?” he questions softly, wrapping his arms around your waist the instant you drop your bags.

“just tired eiji—long day.” you say shakily.

he frowns at that, tugging you tightly against his chest as a large hand rubs circles over your back. “not on my watch,” he says with surprising conviction, pulling back to look you in the eyes once more. “how about you let me take care of you for a bit?” he smiles softly, cupping your cheek gently with his hand. 

eijirou winds up ordering from your favourite takeout place as you freshen up in the shower, already preparing blankets and popcorn for a little movie night in. when you get out, he wraps you up in his arms once more, peppering you in dozens of little kisses. eventually, as a movie hums quietly in the background, you fall asleep against his chest, finally entirely relaxed from the day beforehand and eijirou traces shapes along your arms.

t. iida

tenya fully understands your fatigue the second you arrive home with a scowl in place of your usual smile, shoulders slumped and eyes heavy. he rushes over to you in seconds, taking your bag from your hands and slipping your jacket off from your shoulders without warning, saying quietly, “please, allow me.” once your shoes are off, he gently leads you to the dining table and prompts for you to sit, eyebrows twisted in concern. “you should get off your feet for a moment, love.”

the second you sink into the chair, tenya’s moving efficiently throughout the apartment—preparing dinner, drawing a warm bubble bath, folding freshly washed pajames to sit neatly on your side of the bed. he even plugs your phone in for you when he notices it’s nearly dead. when you thank him, he adjusts his glasses and kneels quietly beside you, placing a large hand to rest over your own. “you consistently dedicate yourself to helping others.” he cuts himself off as he places a tender kiss to your lips. “it would be unfair if no one did the same for you.”

later in the evening, tenya dims the lights and sets up a humidifier with your favourite essential oils, settling into bed as he insists on reading aloud while you rest your head against his chest. his voice is steady and calm, each page turning slowly as his fingers comb absentmindedly through your hair. before you drift off to sleep, you hear him murmur almost too quiet to catch, “i hope tomorrow is kinder to you.”

s. aizawa

aizawa’s always been particularly good at reading people without them saying a word, and you’re no exception. the instant you walk through that door with glassy eyes and slumped posture, he silently walks to you in the hall, gently sliding your jacket from off your shoulders as you take off your shoes. “go change,” he says quietly, nodding his head toward the bedroom. 

when you come back wearing your most comfortable clothes, your favourite dinner is already prepared and ready for you on the table, a hot cup of tea sitting just beside it. after eating, you sit quietly next to him on the couch as he reads a book, though he doesn’t get very far once you lean into his side with a small sigh. setting the book down, shouta brings one arm to wrap carefully around your shoulders, thumb brushing in absentminded strokes across your skin.