NESSA

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week. 

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once. 

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone. 

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly. 

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying. 

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger. 

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage. 

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table. 

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven. 

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters". 

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of. 

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers. 

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot. 

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can. 

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really. 

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks. 

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered. 

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?" 

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute. 

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony. 

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan. 

He's trying to figure out the best way up. 

How he even got up here is news to you. 

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second. 

Then, he settles on his plan. 

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution. 

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought. 

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin. 

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks. 

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up. 

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony. 

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight. 

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail. 

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you. 

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat. 

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating. 

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy. 

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony. 

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?" 

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge. 

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact. 

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot. 

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle. 

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong." 

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his. 

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this. 

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn. 

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello. 

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony. 

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan. 

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner." 

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

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we both like apple cider

"katsuki, hurry up!" you yell at the 5-year-old blonde who was lazily trailing behind you, holding his basket like it were a piece of rag. "come onn, your mom said if we pick good apples she'll give us extra apple cider!" you whine, running over to him and grabbing his free hand to drag him towards a large tree. katsuki glared at you and your hand as he spoke, "i don't want to do stupid apple picking, it's so annoying!" he yelled, dropping your hand.

you turn back at him, your lips slightly agape as tears prick your eyes. ". . so you don't want to pick apples with me?" you say, lips now trembling as tears now rolled down your cheeks. katsuki's eyes soften slightly, replacing the anger with worry instead as he hurriedly speaks. "alright fine, i'll do it! just . . don't cry okay?"

you erupt in a wide smile as he wipes your tears away. "okay i won't! let's go!" you exclaimed excitedly, grabbing his hand once more and hurrying towards the tree.

you both set your baskets down, your eyes sparkling as you observe the big red apples on the branches of the tree. you rush over to the trunk, giving it a kick with all of your strength, hoping it will drop a few apples down. your plan was a success as you see one of the apples shaking and eventually dropping down! . . on your head.

katsuki burst out laughing, holding his stomach and pointing at you as you held your head, glaring at him. "stop it suki, it wasn't funny. and besides," you pause, placing the apple that just attacked you into your basket carefully, "i'm winning." "winning at what? being a dummy who gets apples dropped on their heads?" he snickers at you. "i have more apples in my basket than you kat-su-ki," you say with an evil grin, making sure to punctuate each part of his name. "i will be the one getting more cider than you."

katsuki's smile dropped at your words as his eyes flashed with a newfound determination. "not for long loser!" he yelled as he jumped up from the ground and marched towards the tree.

it had been half an hour since the two of you had left your parent's little picnic table to pick apples. mitsuki bakugo looked out into the distance to try and spot you and katsuki's little figures and sure enough, she saw you two walking side by side, arguing over something.

"kids! hurry up and come over here!" she called out, which caught both of your attentions. she sighed to herself as she watched you two attempting to race each other and try to get to the table first.

eventually, katsuki reached the table before you. he slammed his basket down and turned around to rub his victory in your face but instead found you on the ground. your basket was laid on its side, apples spilling out as your teary eyes stared at the small blood patch on your knee.

"mama i fell down!" you wailed to your mother as she caressed your hair and cleaned your scratch. "you should be more careful y/n" your mother said with a worried tone. mitsuki handed a bandage to her and looked at you. "it's okay y/n, you're a brave kid, right? i'll make you some extra cider okay?" she says which makes a soft smile appear on your face as you nod.

"is . . is your knee okay?" katsuki mumbles as he takes a sip from his glass of cider. "mhm!" you nod "it only hurt for a bit!" you say as you take a sip from your second cup of cider, to which katsuki only hums. "hey suki," you began, turning your body towards him "let's make a pinky promise!" he stares at you, confused. "about what?" "to get married in the future!" you say as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

katsuki chokes on his drink, covering his mouth as he stares at you with a slightly flustered face. "w-what!? why would i do that?" he yells. you tilt your head in confusion, "so that we can pick apples together forever and ever?" you pause before continuing. "or . . do you want to pick apples with someone else?" you look down at your lap, your bottom lip quivering again. katsuki huffs and grabs your pinky, interlocking it with his as he looks away and mutters. "okay fine! i pinky promise i'll marry you . . crybaby."

but your hair be smelling like fruit punch

"fruit punch," you say, staring at the side of 6-year-old katsuki's face as he plays with the game he snuck into bed tonight. you and him were having yet another sleepover. it was always the same - eat dinner together, play in his room, take a bath, change into pjs, and then head into bed where he would pull out his hidden game control from under the pillow.

you two were under the blanket after katsuki's demands so that he doesn't get caught. he didn't even spare you a glance when you say that, just letting out a simple "what."

"your hair," you say, "it smells like fruit punch." "weirdo, why are you smelling my hair" he replies, heading onto the next level of the game. "because you smell nice," you reply bluntly, "i like it."

the red 'GAME OVER' screen illuminates katsuki's face as he finally turns his head to look at you. was it the screen making his face red or a blush? even after many years, you're not sure.

you snicker at him. "haha loser, you lost" you say, staring at his screen. "tch..whatever" he mumbles, shoving the game back under his pillow and releasing the two of you from the cage of the blanket, cool air hitting your faces.

"you smell nice too . . i guess" he mumbles under his breath, so quiet that you don't even hear it. "what?" you ask, turning to look at him once again. "NOTHING!" he whisper yells and hurriedly turns his back to you.

and i don't even like you that much

mumbles and whispers floated through the crowd as the provisional hero license exam had come to an end. you along with the other students, who had managed to come out without all three of their targets hit, stood together, anxiously waiting for the results to be revealed.

there was an uncomfortable knot in your stomach as you muttered to yourself, trying to calm yourself down. katsuki stood next to you, obviously confident that he would get his license.

"fuck, will you calm down?" katsuki whisper yelled at you as he tugged on the deathly tight grip you had on his arm unknowingly. "i'm so nervous kats! what if i messed up somewhere what if i forgot to save one of those civilians what if-" "what if you're just overthinking this shit?" he responds bluntly before turning his eyes back to the representative from the hero safety commission.

"okay . . maybe you're right. i should stay positive!" you whisper back before taking a few deep breaths and following his gaze towards the front.

"anyway, the names of those who've passed are listed here in alphabetical order." the voice through the mic spoke.

the screen flickered for a moment before revealing the names, all in perfect order. immediately you started scanning the rows, letting out a small smile as you saw familiar names flash pass before your eyes landed on your name.

wait . . . your name? that means you passed!

you couldn't help but let out an excited squeal, turning to katsuki and slightly jumping up and down as you pointed to where your name was in big bold letters.

"katsuki, look! i did it!" you yell as you wrap your arms around his neck and continue your little jumps.

now, katsuki had already realized that his name wasn't there and oh boy, was he pissed.

he had opened his mouth to tell you off when you kept rapidly pointing at the screen as if he hadn't already seen your name but when you had suddenly thrown your arms around his neck, he froze.

you were yapping in his ear about how happy and relieved you were and all he could focus on was to get you away before you felt his heart practically beating out of his chest.

however before he could pull you off, you beat him to it by pulling your head away yourself. he opened his mouth again but immediately froze when you planted a kiss on him.

okay, it was not a full on kiss on the lips. you meant to kiss his cheek but because of how giddy you were, it landed on the corner of his mouth.

he seemed to be the only one who had noticed this accident since you were now busy with searching for katsuki's name on the screen.

stupid you and your stupid face and your stupid scent that he had caught a whiff of when you viciously mauled him (gave him a hug) and your stupid soft lips and the stupid 'butterflies' you gave him.

katsuki couldn't understand why he felt like this. he didn't even like you . . . that much.

however, he did not have time to give it much thought because it had finally hit you that he had not passed the exam. you turned to him, your mouth agape as you stared at him with wide eyes.

"i know i didn't pass so don't fucking rub it in." he mumbled, turning his head away. "what!? but how?" you yell at him.

"probably because he didn't put any effort into saving people" piped in kirishima who backed away as he was given a glare by katsuki. "you should've been more careful with what you said. words are important you know!" said kaminari as he grinned at him. "SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I MURDER YOU!" katsuki growled back.

the class was now on the ride home. the whole bus was in a lively chatter except for the two students who had failed. you sat with the others, laughing with them but your eyes lingered towards the back where katsuki sat, earphones plugged in as he stared out the window with a small furrow in his eyebrows.

you excused yourself and made your way to him, plopping down beside katsuki as you nudged him slightly. he pulled out one of his earphones, a sign that he was listening, "hey . . you okay?" you asked softly, trying to scan his face for any emotions but it was hard since he refused to look anywhere but out the window.

"of course i'm okay" he mumbled, pausing for a second before continuing. "m'so ready to fucking crush the extra classes so don't get too cocky just because you got yours first."

a small smile erupted from your lips as you felt a wave of relief wash over you. you were worried he was giving himself a hard time because of this.

"well then dynamight, i'll be waiting for you!" you reply, grinning at him.

he finally turns his head to you, a smirk on his lips as he replies, "get ready to choke in my smoke," you cringe at his words but he ignores it and continues, "and it's great explosion murder god dumba-" "shut up kats" you interrupt, giggling as he gives you a small glare.

stupid you and your ability of always being able to cheer him up.

wait, i do, fuck

NUMBER ONE HERO DYNAMIGHT RUMORED TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP? FIND OUT THE JUICY DETAILS NOW!

DYNAMIGHT SPOTTED WITH PRO HERO XXX AT X HOTEL!

XXX AND DYNAMIGHT CONFIRMED TO BE TOGETHER?

you sigh to yourself, scrolling through the endless theories and articles about the man that were spread throughout your entire twitter timeline. it's like wherever you were, the blonde would somehow be there too. ultimately, you toss your phone away, unable to escape all the dating rumor articles surrounding him and the way your heart clenched when you saw pictures of him and some other hero.

it's been 3 years since you graduated high school, you and all of your peers are now amazing pro heroes who have worked hard to be what they are today and climb the hero ranks impressively.

you too ended up ranking among the top five heroes in all of japan.

you were proud of yourself, happy to do the thing you'd been wanting to do since you were a little kid. you can't deny that sometimes, it was too exhausting.

so without any second thoughts, you emailed your manager this morning, requesting a leave for your mental health. being a good hero also means to remain in good shape and have a happy mind!

it was now evening, you had a fairly productive day. running a few errands while being hooded to avoid any media, binging some of your favorite shows while you munched on snacks, and overall just having a self-care day, you know?

you stepped out onto your balcony, leaning against the railings as you gazed at the setting sun which painted the sky into a mix of many beautiful colors, including orange.

you smile softly as it reminds you of a certain red-eyed man as your mind lingers off to thoughts of him. dynamight, the number one hero and also your best friend.

to say he was a workaholic at times was an understatement. he wouldn't clock out until his poor manager begged him to rest.

he was passionate about his job and you admired that about him. from a young age he was always eager to stand at number one and be the best version of himself.

your smile fades as flashbacks of what happened 6 years ago played in your mind. it was the day when that gruesome war had occurred. your eyes sting as you're painfully reminded of everything that had happened. the memories of heroes who had lost their lives fighting for peace clouded your mind. and of course, what had happened to katsuki had been the one thing that had almost completely broken you on the battlefield. you let your tears fall, keeping a straight face as they rolled down your cheeks. there was no point in holding them back, no one would see you. right?

you sniffle softly, taking deep breaths as you clear your head from your thoughts, now realizing the presence beside you.

there he was, the dynamight himself, standing next to you as he too gazed at the sunset. you weren't that surprised, he had done this many times before, simply swooping in and landing on your balcony if he saw you there.

he glanced at you, silently observing your tear-stained face as his fiery red eyes flickered with a hint of sadness. his heart painfully panged against his chest whenever he saw you cry.

you wipe your tears away, giving him a small smile before speaking. "i'm okay kats, don't worry." what a liar you were. his eyes shoot away as he mumbles, "i didn't say anything."

"you didn't have to." you reply, gaping at the sky which was turning dark now. "you clocked out early? that's unusual oh great explosion murder god." you tease. "swept this entire area today, and was gonna go check out shitty hair's district when i saw your ass crying." he said.

"aww, how thoughtful! but be careful, your supposed 'girlfriends' might call me a homewrecker." you jeer as he lets out a groan, resting his forehead on the railings. "fuck . . why do you read that shit? stupid media . . always makin up stuff."

you let out a giggle at his reaction, causing him to slightly lift his head and stare at you. his heart swelling up at the sound of your laughter.

you push your body away from the railings, sliding open the door as you step inside. "so you gonna come in or not?" you say, keeping the door open as katsuki silently accepts the invitation and gets inside, sliding the door shut behind him.

"i'll get your clothes-" "don't" he interrupted as you looked at him surprised. "i know where it is . . you don't have to get it." "okay then! i'll go get us something to drink, take a shower if you wanna." you reply, earning a hum from him as you make your way to the kitchen. katsuki taking a shower or you casually having a pair of his clothes at your home was nothing out of the ordinary, just bestie thingz. right?

katsuki stepped out of your shower, feeling a slight muscle ache from his villain fights today as sank into the couch and stared at the back of your head while you were seated on the carpet. you silently handed him a cold drink as you scrolled through the channels on tv.

he snapped open his drink, taking slow sips from it as he mentally prepared himself to ask you the thing he's been wanting to for the past hour. "so . . " he began, peering at you from the corner of his eyes as you hum. "why were you cryin earlier?"

you put on a weak smile, taking a sip before responding. "was just . . thinking about the war." you say. "i don't know why but i still get chills thinking about it now. it's been 6 years and i still haven't learned to handle my thoughts about it properly. i always feel so guilty, like i wasn't strong enough or i wasn't fast enough. maybe if i was better, i could've stopped what had happened to everyone, what happened to you-"

you were suddenly interrupted by katsuki who pulled himself off the couch and grabbed your face with both his hands firmly as he turned your face towards him.

it was completely silent for a minute, only a soft sizzling heard from your drink that had spilled over on the carpet and was now soaking into it.

"don't." he said, breaking the silence. "don't ever blame yourself for what happened. you were doin your best and i was too, i just had a small hiccup but look at me now, the number one hero" he said, a small smile on his face. "and look at you, an amazing hero who's so damn good at their job. don't be so hard on yourself dumbass, no one could've controlled what happened that day."

you give him a small shaky smile, your eyes slightly welled up with tears. "yeah . . you're right." you say as he softly wipes your tears away with the back of his finger. "crybaby." "shut up."

you both softly laugh, comfortably enjoying each other's presence. as your laughter ceases you realize how close the two of you are. you could see every scar and bump of katsuki's beautiful face and the dimple on his left cheek

katsuki too was silently admiring you. your beautiful eyes, your cheeks, your nose and eventually, your lips. the same soft lips for which he had been longing for ever since you two were just high school kids and you gave him that stupid little kiss on the corner of his mouth.

his actions don't go unnoticed by you as your lips turn into a small smirk. "pro hero dynamight caught shamelessly staring at pro hero H/N (your hero name), find out all the deets in this article" you joke, a blush creeping up from his neck to the tip of his ears.

"shut up . . " he mumbled, looking into your eyes before he spoke again. "pro hero dynamight was caught asking pro hero H/N if he could kiss them. what was H/N's response?" he whispered, now deathly close to your face as he waited for your answer.

your lips parted slightly as your cheeks flushed into a deep red, perhaps even rivaling kirishima's hair. you give him a small nod to which he immediately crashes his lips onto yours. his hand slithered to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you tangled your fingers into his blonde hair.  

your heart felt warm and fluttery as your back hits the corner of your L-shaped couch. your lips molded with his perfectly, a slow and intimate rhythm between the two of you before you both pull away because humans need a stupid thing called oxygen.

katsuki rested his forehead against yours, panting slightly as you spoke. "woah there dynamight, we might just be the next big scandal. surely this will put an end to all your previous allegations?" you whisper, a stupidly large smile on your face. "they would never be true anyway. i like havin my pinky finger y'know?" he said which caused your eyebrows to raise. "what does your pinky finger have to do with this?" you asked as he gave you a dumb smirk. "did you forget already? what was it . . you want to pick apples with someone else?" he teases as you groan and cover your face with your palms. "shit . . how do you remember that?" "i'm someone who keeps his promises" he snickers, gently prying your hands away from your face as he puts up his pinky finger in front of your face.

you giggle at his childish antic but he doesn't seem to give a shit. "wanna renew our promise? just to make sure that we're stuck with each other." he says, wiggling his pinky around for yours. you smile, interlocking your pinky with his. "no taking back babygirl" you say, laughing as he gives you a revolted look at the nickname. "is it too late to change my mind?" he says, putting on a fake look of worry to which you grin evilly. "no escaping now my beautiful red-eyed princess" you yell, earning a sigh from him as you viciously maul him (give him a hug) and bury your face into his neck while giggling.

yeah . . he did like you that much.

NOTE — i dont know if apple cider (ITS NOT ALCOHOLIC RIGHT??IDK) tastes good or if his hair would smell like fruit punch but just pretend it does ok. ANYWAYS this idea had been lingering in my head for so long and i scrapped og ideas probabaly like 8934 times but hope you guys liked this final product!! (also guys did i eat with that line where he asked for consent before he kissed you guys i feel like that was so teehee)

“Sorry, it’s nothing, just—” you sigh, pressing your palms to your eyes. Your hands are still damp from washing the dishes. 

Kirishima’s presence has always been hard to miss—big, bright, and entirely all-comforting. He crosses the kitchen island to get to you now, hand reaching for the back of your head as he pushes you gently towards his chest.

It’s that familiar presence that makes you feel like crying right now. 

“Hey, hey,” he shushes, his other hand rubbing up and down your lower back, “it’s okay.”  

He’d already gotten ready for the gym when he heard the clatter, rushing out to the kitchen with his protein shaker in one hand and gym bag over his shoulder. You’d toppled over the dish soap and groaned out in frustration, watching the liquid ooze down the drain along with every bit of your self-composure. 

It was one of those things; one of those days—that feeling you’ve been having lately triggered by the simplest, most unrelated occurrence. 

Kirishima doesn’t say anything, just lets his heartbeat do the talking. Steady, grounding, like a weighted blanket wrapping itself around you. 

He’s not going to be able to squeeze in a gym session before work if he stays with you any longer like this. 

“You should go soon,” you mumble, voice muffled against his chest, the dri-fit material of his muscle tank cool against your forehead. 

“In a bit,” he whispers, only holding you closer. 

There are days when words are never enough. How can you possibly explain the thoughts bouncing within the walls of your mind? How do you describe a feeling that spirals into layers upon layers of them? 

You don’t tell him of your anxieties often because you think he has enough to worry about. His job, on the day-to-day, is all about that: concerning himself with others so they don’t have to worry as much.

But you know the man you love. 

The one who watches how you make your coffee so he can leave a cup for you right before he crashes to bed from evening patrol the night before. The one who always listens, smiles as he sneaks glances to look at you sharing work-gossip while passing him the colored clothes for laundry day. 

Even without you saying anything, you know he can tell it’s been tough lately. 

Your eyes don’t shine the same and you’ve been quieter—the smile you have around him is more subdued, sometimes even forced just to make it seem like everything’s okay. 

There’s a slight sway to the way he’s holding you, a subtle lulling that he’s picked up from the times you’ve saved him from his demons too. 

You sink deeper into his chest. 

“”M sorry,” you murmur.

“For what?” his cheek rests atop your head, moving as he speaks. 

“Your gym time…” you trail off, lowering your hands to grip at his sides. 

He scoffs, “Just realized it's a rest day anyway.”

You both know he isn’t fooling anyone with it. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he reassures you, kissing the top of your head before adjusting his embrace. He hunches lower to nuzzle your neck. 

The contemplative hum that escapes you tells him you still feel bad about it, so he gently squeezes your waist, a playful effort to ease you up. 

“Ei…” you whine. He knows you’re ticklish there. 

“Seriously, hugging you’s way better than gym time anyway.” 

You know the man you love, the one who’ll say anything to make you feel better. He feels the corners of your lips curl up against his chest, and thinks it’s just a little bit more until he gets what he wants from you. 

So he slowly inches his lips right below your ear and blows a raspberry to get you to laugh, the way he always does when he’s cuddling you. You swat at his chest almost immediately, squirming in his hold, but you’re laughing, and he hears it, then he thinks: there it is, there’s that smile. 

The one he loves putting on you.