Hiatus!

“i asked first.” the smile on his face is soft, and filled with adoration.

“well, i wouldn't. but only because relationships like that are toxic and it's good to stay clear of them,” hurriedly adding, “i know, of course that you wouldn't do anything like that!”

“that's good.”

“but would you?” you turn the question on him once more.

he shakes his head, “no, i wouldn't. as you said, i'd like to stay clear of them too.” he fiddles with his hands, “our relationship won't be like that, right? like that, or like my parents. i don't want-” a deep breath, “i don't want what happened to my parents to happen to us.”

“shoto...” your hands find his, fingers curling around his palms in a tight grip. “of course not. i won't let that happen to us.”

it goes silent, the only noise being the song that still played on tv. then, shoto rubs his eyes, making you realize he was tearing up. “what's wrong?” you ask while wiping away the stray tears that fell down his cheeks with your thumbs.

“nothing,” he laughs, “i just love you.”

your eyes widen at the confession, before softening, “and i love you.”

as he turned his attention back to the movie, shoto understood something. while some relationships were doomed, like how his parents relationship was at the moment, he realized that maybe if he did well on his part, held up his side, your relationship won't end up like his parents, or the two idiots on tv.

he feels genuine happiness, and can't help but keep a smile on his face for the rest of the day.

only the real ones will reblog! <3

“yeah, 'zuku?” you smile at the tone of his voice, how happy he sounded even half asleep.

“did you-” he cuts himself off with a yawn, bringing his other hand up to cover his mouth. he drowsily opens his eyes, trying to keep them open while completing his question, “-have dinner yet?”

it's sometimes annoying how he's the worst at taking care of himself, but when it comes to you he's always making sure you're eating, staying hydrated and taking breaks.

you look into the green eyes that you've learned to love and adore, “not yet, love. did you?”

“no . . .” izuku trails off as he manages to sit up, and you move your hand from his cheek to his hair, brushing away the strands from his forehead. “i wanted to wait for you to come back, so we could have eat together.”

you sneak a glance at the clock, “it's past 11pm now-”

“i know,” he accepts the hand you held out and lets you pull him to his feet. “but it feels weird to eat without you there.”

“you still have to eat y'know?” you mumble back, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and set his head on your shoulder. “come on, let's get you to bed.”

“.... but i have to study more, and you didn't eat yet.”

“i know, i know.” you pull him towards the bedroom, “i'll bring our food to the bedroom, and i'll quiz you on some units while we eat, 'kay?”

“okay,” you can practically hear the soft, loving smile filled with adoration that's on his face. “i'll go and wash my face.”

“sure, don't fall asleep in the washroom though.”

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“No. If you’re not gonna say my name nicely you don’t get to say it at all. Now try again, say it with more love this time, otherwise I’ll light up your phone,” he said sternly, dangling your phone in his hands to emphasize his point. You crossed your arms glaring at him before turning away stubbornly, still unwilling to give in. Suddenly, he smirked, shrugging at you. “Okay, if you wanna be a stubborn brat that’s up to you.” Plopping himself on top of you, he wormed his way under your crossed arms and laid his head on your chest, trying to put as much weight as he possibly could on you.

“Katsuki!” You screamed at him angrily. Another smirk.

“Uh uh,” he shook his head. “I didn’t like that tone either. Try one more time.” You closed your eyes, breathing deeply before looking at him unimpressed.

“I am not happy with you.”

“And I said I’m sorry. And I even said it nicely this time. Not ‘half assed’ like you always complain.”

“And I said sorry wouldn’t cut it this time.”

“And I said you’re being too stubborn.”

“Katsuki,” this time your tone was exasperated. Once again, his face displayed his usual cockiness, and had it not been so adorable, you’d have smacked it.

“See that’s better, but it’s still not perfect. Try one more time, you’ll get it eventually. In the meantime, I’ll get comfortable.” True to his word, he shifted so he could lay more comfortably, head burrowing deeper into your chest while his arms wrapped around your torso. You sighed, giving in and carding a hand through his wild locks. Looking at you with a triumphant look, he pointed at a blanket at the foot of your bed. “Cover me in the blanket too while your at it babe.” You were so sick of him. Absolutely over him and his antics. But before you could stop yourself, you reached over and lay the blanket over your boyfriend’s body, making sure he was thoroughly covered.

“Is that good enough for your liking?” He nodded, satisfied with your compliance.

“Yeah I guess. But you’re still being shitty and not saying my name correctly, so get back to practicing that. Don’t get discouraged if you can’t get the hang of it, not everyone can be as fast as me.” Oh you’d kill him. But since he looked so cozy, and you didn’t get to really be the one who held him often, you decided just this once, you’d cave. You sighed deeply once more before rolling your eyes.

“Okay fine. I love you Katsuki. Was that better?”

“Sure, I’ll take it. I say your name better though, but I guess I love you too.”

“No you don’t, you just grumble it.”

“And that’s why you’re dumb as shit because clearly I say your name with a lot more love than you do.”

“No you do not.”

“Yeah I do, and I call you babe more often too.”

“Whatever Katsuki, I’m still mad at you.” Shrugging, he lay his head back on your chest and relaxed onto your body.

“You’re always mad about something y/n. Might as well be me so I’m the only thing on your mind.” Finally, you snorted, shaking your head. Leaning down, you kissed his forehead, making him grin. It would probably be his turn to be mad at you tomorrow anyway, so you decided to bask in his affections while you could.

✿ 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈

Todoroki wasn’t quite sure how to handle your current mood right now. He wasn’t the best at reading people’s emotions, let alone dealing with them, but it was evident that you were upset, and worse, you were upset with him. He stared at your figure as you looked at him expectantly, arms crossed.

“Y/n, why are you mad? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me,” you boyfriend reasoned. But you were too angry to be reasonable, so you continued to be stubborn.

“If I have to spell it out for you, then you’re not gonna be able to fix it.” Frowning, he looked at you blankly, confused as to what he could’ve done to make you this upset. He reached over for your hand, but you snatched it away, death glaring him.

“Shoto, go away.” Slowly, he pouted at your tone, it was stern and cold, and he didn’t like it.

“Why… why did you say my name like that?” You glared at him, and Todoroki pouted even deeper. Your heart swelled at the sight, and before you knew it, you weren’t so angry anymore. But still, you didn’t want to give in too quickly.

“Because I’m clearly not happy with you right now Shoto.” Once again, you said his name venomously. This made his face scrunch up, almost making you laugh at his expression.

“Y/n, I’m sure I can fix it. But say my name the way you usually do,” he insisted. You raised an eyebrow at him, and he furrowed his.

“And how do I usually say it?”

“Not like that.”

“I’m saying it the way I always do.”

“No you’re not, you don’t usually say it like this.”

“Then like what Shoto?” He looked at you, blinking for a moment, contemplating.

“Well that time was a bit nicer, but still not like usual.” Finally, you gave in, giggling at how he was so effortlessly adorable. Holding an arm out, you motioned for him to come over. He looked at you confused, but made his way to you nonetheless, sinking into your hold as you wrapped yourself around him.

“You’re so cute Shoto.” Hugging you, Todoroki’s head met the crook of your neck as you played with his hair.

“You said it like usual again, does that mean you’re not mad?” Laughing, you nodded. He relaxed into your embrace, squeezing your figure gently.

“Yeah, I’m not mad anymore.”

“That was quick. How’d I fix it, I didn’t even do anything yet.” Rubbing his back, you smiled at him as he brought his head out of your neck to look at you.

“You were just being really cute is all.” He was still uncertain about what exactly happened, but he nodded anyway.

“Okay, I don’t really get it, but you’ll say my name nicely now right?” Pecking his lips, you nodded, chuckling once more at his confusion.

“Yeah, I’ll say your name nicely now.”

Although you noticed the way he closed his eyes and took a sharp intake of breath, you didn’t say anything and just wrapped him up in your arms. He looked at you like a deer caught in headlights, his emerald eyes wide and confused, nevertheless he hesitantly wrapped his arms around your torso in return. Now, he was leaning his forehead on your shoulder and snuggling deeper at the thunder, loving the warm and comforted feeling he got from you.

“i love you.”

“i love you too, 'zuku.”

He didn’t notice but as the sounds of rain faded into the back of his mind, he got sleepier until he was closing his eyes and sleep took over him while he was still in your arms.

―― BAKUGOU frowned as he ran, “run faster, idiot!” with a laugh, you yell back, “you're the one who should ran faster, you're behind me!” Ignoring the spreading red on his cheeks, he scoffs, pausing when he feels his bag get lighter and something fall onto a puddle with a thud. bending down in the pouring rain, his black hood up so his head and face don't get wet, he picks up his folder and stuffs it back in the bag. “stupid bag,” he mumbles to himself as he straightens up and goes to catch up to you, doing a double take when he realizes you're standing right by him.

“you almost gave me a heart attack, dumbass!”

“sorry,” you giggle, drops of rain falling onto your face and hair making strands stick onto your forehead, damp.

“put your hood up,” he advises, pulling it back up and grabbing your hand, getting ready to make a run for it and get out of the rain so that neither of you end up sick. “let's go, come on.”

he takes a few steps only to stop once he sees you rooted to where you were before. “what's wrong?” he sees your smirk as you step closer to him, “what is it?” he asks again. you're nose to nose with him, and you lean closer, ghosting your lips over his, making him inhale sharply. then, you pull back, letting your hand slip out of his as you laugh again, running away in the rain.

his eyes wide, katsuki watches for a second before he regains his senses and yells, “come back here dumbass!” as he runs after you.

―― DENKI drops the board game onto the table with a thud, “tah dah!” Candles lightened up the dark living room, as you fan yourself with a magazine denki had grabbed from the cupboard, mentally cursing at how it was raining really badly outside but despite that, as soon as the power went out it got unbearably warm in the house. “A board game?” you ask, watching as denki sits on the floor across from you, placing his hands on the coffee table that was in between you two. “It’s snakes and ladders, babe!” he chirps with a grin, taking out the pieces and the dice.

The heat was bad of course, and the darkness was bad too, and the fact that one step outside could probably make you sick for a week was bad as well, but you weren’t planning on going outside any time soon, not when there was a chaotic blonde inside with countless plans to waste time with you until the power is back.

Once you stopped playing snakes and ladders, denki pulls out his phone— mumbling to himself about how he had 6% of battery remaining and how happy he is about it, he puts on an upbeat song and pulls you to your feet, standing up himself. Placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer, he slowly sways to the side, even though the beat was not for slow dancing.

“i hope we don't get struck by lightning.”

“babe! don't jinx it.”

“or burn the house down by dropping one of the candles.”

“babe!”

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katsuki's tears are hot and shameful pouring down his cheeks, leaving blotchy red trails in their wake. he's angry, and like the gods above—whose ruthless fury paints the sky red, and sends hurricanes to raise the sea, not yet high enough to drown his grief—he'll let everyone know it. the bloodied stubs of his fingernails card through his hair before seizing it in handfuls, threatening to leave his scalp gnarled and irritated, and fuck it hurts, but he deserves it. for everyone he's trampled on, thinking he was above them when he couldn't be lower; practically buried in the grave that keeps digging itself whenever he bargains others' worth. for every life lost on a mission—the number growing too high for his ego to bear, and painted across his chest in red. all he sees is red, these days. it all comes down to this; the dents in the wall left by furious punches, his knuckles smarting purplish bruises; the music blaring from his speakers, violent and pulsating, because he won't settle for anything that can't silence his equally as loud thoughts. you can't keep acting this way, a voice snarls. it isn't his own, and it isn't anyone he knows, so that makes it a threat.

you can't keep hurting people and expecting them to fight back. they won't. they'll leave you. his nose wrinkles as more tears resurface, unbidden and pushed back with the sleeve of his sweater. maybe if he wasn't drained of the strength to object, he would stop crying—perhaps grab his frailty by the neck and throttle it into submission. but he's already used all of his energy to scream his throat raw, and it doesn't matter if anyone can hear him above the song playing. he doesn't care.

am i really that weak, lying to myself? i care. . .i care a fucking lot.

with the lights off and curtains drawn shut, so that neither sun or moon may act as witness to his tragedy. not that it matters, he thinks, bearing his back to the ghost of his former self, seams torn down the middle and skin flowering for everything; his heart, his stomach and whatever blackened fragments that still remain; spilling out onto the floor. no one noticed me then, so why would they now? eijiro weeps modest tears; like shooting stars with seldom any wishes to grant; which fall to the floor just as he does, curling inward on himself—as if it would do him any good. there's a nagging sensation at his very core, tempting him to cup his hands over his ears as the anticipation eats away at him little by little. it's a fruitless attempt, even at best, when the dread sets like concrete in his stomach, and a smothered cry of defeat rumbles throughout the room like thunder, rolling through clouds of smoky gray. it's been a while, he thinks, pondering the date. he was doing so well, abandoning his insecurities in the dark to fester, when he should have snuffed them out for good. that was his first mistake of many, and eijiro cowers from the truth: that it won't be the last time he stumbles and forgets his way.

hell, he can't remember finding it in the first place, and all he wants is someone to guide him with their hand in his—the light in their eyes acting as a promise to not let go—but the world won't even give him that. eijiro hiccups pathetically when he cries—a plea for help lodged in his throat that never receives an answer—and he wonders briefly if this is how everyone else feels. unsatisfied, unworthy, insignificant.

how can i save others if i can't even save myself?

oh, how the world turns for pretty boys who cry, their eyes kissed by the rain and choked by its ferocity, spilling over rose tinted brims by the gallon. denki awaits the very first tears with bated breath, the sporadic pleas of no, no, no falling from his lips, trembling as they catch between his teeth, gnawing until the sharp bite of copper dances upon his tongue. he suppresses every snivel, sob and whine with his hands, forced against his mouth like a muzzle, because god forbid he be a nuisance to anyone else. god fucking forbid he further drag the label of "loud, annoying blond" through the mud on the way to his room, feeling as though he's hauling himself as well as the weight of his classmates' words, digging into the most vulnerable parts of him like rusted shackles. he waits for the ruckus; from his neighbors or the weather, it doesn't matter; because he feels naked this way, inaudibly sobbing into his palms as he struggles for breath, and it's such a sacred thing, letting one you trust see the bare skin where wounds were afflicted.

he wishes there was someone to hold him, but there's not, so a pillow will suffice. he'd rather that than bawl into someone's chest, awaiting soft coos of assurance and their fingers tracing patterns on his back—that's what he tells himself. he needs to believe it, so that he doesn't waste his time revealing the rotting, unpleasant parts of him, only for them to cringe in disgust. i'm not much better on the outside, he heaves into the pillow, skin turning ashen from the tenacity of his grip.

i'd be stupid to think anyone wants me.

like many young boys, bleeding through the crevices their parents carved, shoto cries like it's the very first time. he is abashed, as if the lamp light burns just as harshly as his father's unyielding glare, and the sheets—more securing than his mother's embrace, then turned acrid like the taste of bile in his mouth—are clawed hands, raking across his skin as the soft whimpers turn into rasping wails. each sob is strangled from his throat; aching and raw; and every sound afterword causes his heart to stutter, a dread instilled by the memory of endeavor's fist closed around his forearm. it's sickening, and it makes him want to spit up whatever he ate for lunch, but he can't even bring himself to move from the bed. he feels like a like a little kid again, but there's a strange sense of weightlessness, as if he's watching himself from outside his own body. somehow, that only makes matters worse, because the longer time stretches on, the more inclined he is to cry harder. no one's there to see, so it should be fine, but an underlying prayer still echoes in the recess of his mind.

this isn't fair. shoto pulls the sheets over his head, naïve as to think that it will save him from whatever lurks on the outside, threatening to further shape him open, his insides for the taking. i'm everything he wanted, but at what cost? he already knows the answer, but the hollow concave in his heart yearns to forget.