Join Me In My Playground

His lips leave your skin and he flashes you a flirty smile, your own lips twitching into a wobbly grin of your own. You can feel the heat on your cheeks and ears and you wish for the beautiful green grass to swallow you whole. 

“Hey…” Kirishima weakly protests the bard’s actions, stomach flipping upside down. He fidgets with his claws in a way he hasn’t in a long time. 

“Farewell, my lovely Traveler.” He releases your hand and winks, waving goodbye to the other two men in company. 

“Oi! Back off of them!” Bakugou growls, stepping in front of you and shielding you from Kaminari’s playful eyes. He shoves the bard back, forcing distance between you all. 

“Haha! You know Kacchan, maybe if you got your head out of your own butt, you’d admit to your feelings!” He taunts, lightly jogging to avoid the volatile presence of the prince. Kaminari gives you all one last wave before continuing down the path to Falkirk. 

Bakugou allows a stilted grunt to escape, whispering to himself. “Huh? Feelings…tch. As if.” 

“That idiot,” the barbarian continues, “always spouting nonsense like always. His electricity magic must be frying his brain.” He rolls his eyes and leads you two down the path to Milosen. 

“C’mon, you two. We’ve got a ways to go yet.” He waves a hand at you both over his back, urging you to follow. 

“Right behind ya. Come on Traveler,” Kirishima encourages, a gentle hand behind your back to guide you. 

You giggle lightly at Bakugou’s antics. He wears his emotions on his sleeve without even trying. Kirishima smiles at you and bumps your elbow with his. Your skin still hums from the faint press of the kiss bestowed upon you. You shake your head, exhaling a bit more forcefully but you smile again. He’s sweet, the bard, but totally not your type. 

“It was nice having another person in our party. It was refreshing,” the dragon sighs, adjusting the straps to his pack. 

“I agree! He had such a great singing voice! No wonder he’s invited to birthday parties with distant royals.” You smile lightly at the memory of being sung to sleep the other night, the gentle sway of wind and sweet cadence of the bard’s words a lullaby like no other. 

“Tch. He’s still a dumbass. He used to overuse his magic when we were younger and shock himself stupid all the time,” Bakugou spits, flexing and extending his fingers repeatedly to keep himself calm. Does he know why he’s feeling this way? Yes! Will he admit it? Fuck no!

“Well it seems like he’s got a better handle on it now. I hope he won’t run into any trouble on his way,” you comment, stifling a giggle at the mental image of a bumbling, stumbling Kaminari. 

“Whatever, we have our own journey to worry about.” And with that, the conversation lulls to a stop. 

Along the path, you point out to Kirishima all the peculiar flowers and insects you spot. He provides a decent explanation for each new thing you come across with Bakugou interjecting every once in a while. Once the sun starts dipping below the trees, the prince announces that you’ll be making camp. 

“Shitty Scales, take the Outsider around the area and do some foraging. Unlike you, we can’t just eat meat to survive.” Bakugou’s hair glows golden in the setting sun and he sets down your packs. 

“You got it, Bakugou! Come on, Traveler,” he urges, lightly grasping your wrist to pull you away from the small clearing. 

You recognize some of the flowers he points out to you, noting the small berries tucked under the leaves. Kirishima takes off his wrap and lays it on the ground, instructing you to pile up the fruits in the fabric. You gently pluck as many as you can and smile. You bet these will be sweet and juicy. You round the bushes to see another clutch of berries but Kirishima reaches out first. 

“Whoa hold on, not those.” He puts a hand out to stop you, palm warm against your shoulder. 

“You see the serrated edges to the leaves? A lot of poisonous food in Solterra has those types of leaves. And here, the flower stamens are also red. If a fruit-bearing plant has either one of those, it’s best to just stay away from them. They might not kill you, but they’ll give you a hell of a time if you eat ‘em.” 

You catalogue all that he’s said away, nodding along to every word. Granted, it’s not like you foraged back in your world, but the rules do seem to be different here. It would be best to learn as much as you can. 

After finding a few more edible choices, you head back to the now roaring campfire. Bakugou is whittling at a few twigs, his small hunting blade glinting in the red light. He’s making skewers for your dinner tonight. In the time you and the dragon were gone, he caught…some type of furred animal. You see the fresh blood soaking the grass next to the prince and your heart sinks. It’s about the size of a fat raccoon if you had to guess but you don’t dare to ask, pursing your lips to the side and keeping your eyes away from it. 

“Finally, you’re back. Thought I’d have to go in there and track your asses down,” he grumbles with no heat in his words, eyes lifting to lock with yours. 

“C’mon, have a little faith, Bakugou. We got as much as we could and we came back as soon as we were done,” Kirishima whines, setting down his berry-filled wrap to the side of the campfire. 

The prince only hums, leaning over to look at the pinks and purples piled up. He nods in acknowledgement and returns to his whittling, finishing off the last skewer with a few more flicks of his wrist. You and Kirishima sit down across from Bakugou, the yellow fire in between warming your skin. 

He sets his things off to the side, dusting his hands off from the wood shavings. He drags the animal to him and lifts the clean blade, but he pauses. He looks at you, sees your crestfallen face, and he groans. 

“Outsider, go practice with Kirishima. You hate watching this shit and I see that look on your face. Go.” 

You gulp and nod, standing up to look at your surroundings. You’re not far off the path and trees are all around you. You’re still staying close in case anything happens but a small space off to the side is ample enough for you two to draw your swords. 

You lift your weapon, shoulders shifting into the same place all those weeks ago when Bakugou first trained you. Kirishima walks you through a few different scenarios, each swipe is slow motion so no one actually gets hurt. You go again and again and Kirishima smiles, seeing something behind you. Bakugou comes up to adjust your stance and your cheeks blaze at the feeling of his chest right against your back but you stay strong. At least you think you do. His larger palms encase your own holding the hilt, tilting the blade a little differently than you have been doing so. 

“You’re not entirely shitty at this but we need to up the challenge now. Try going a little faster. At some point, you’ll need to defend yourself, and I can’t guarantee we’ll be there to do so.” 

You nod and slowly side step, keeping your eyes on Kirishima. The dragon lunges, and Bakugou’s hands holding yours pulls the sword up in time to block his attack, parrying to the side to take your own swipe at him. This goes a few more times, the prince’s steps following after your own as you and the dragon play fight. 

His hands leave you and you turn, eyes widening at how close he remains. “Keep doing that, Outsider, and you’ll have a chance at surviving.” 

Bakugou can feel the heat reaching his ears but he’s hoping the twilight sky is dim enough that you won’t notice it. Truthfully, he didn’t need to get that close to you but he wanted to. Why? Only the Celestials know, and they giggle in their heavenly abode at the prince being so obvious. 

“Dinner is almost done, you both should come back,” he says quietly, and he heads toward the makeshift camp. 

You follow after him once you recollect your heart from death-inducing tachycardia, palms sweating with nerves. Kirishima sets down your swords and purrs, the meat now an appetizing aroma. You swear you see hearts in his red eyes and drool from the corner of his mouth. You chuckle to yourself and settle in, electing to sit next to the dragon. 

Dinner is consumed quickly and quietly, as quietly as a meat-loving dragon can at least. His hums of content and appreciation draw more than one giggle from you. You munch on the tart berries, scanning the skies for glinting stars and beaming planets. Do other planets exist here? It’s not like you can ask your companions, they most likely don’t even know what the word ‘planet’ means. You fall asleep that night smushed between two warm bodies and you smile in your restful state. Everything is turning out better than it could. There’s nothing to worry about. Just about 5 more days of travel until you get to Milosen and a new chapter begins. 

--

Flying to the Silverspray Coast

Soaring through the clouds and blue sky is a feeling you’re not sure you’ll get used to. You totally understand how Hiccup felt when Toothless took him to the skies now. The whipping winds were cool but not biting. Plentiful shades of greens and yellows from the forests and farmlands on the ground gleam and the bright sun behind you keeps you warm. Kirishima’s large wings beat rhythmically and the thunderous sound becomes white noise to you. He purrs occasionally, the vibrations rumbling through his scales and into your bones. 

You glide alongside the strange birds in the sky, the hooked beaks and throaty squawks reminding you you’re not in the world you’re familiar with. The body sitting behind you shifts, his warm breath grazing the shell of your ear. You shiver. He notices. 

“Too chilly for ya, Traveler?” he mumbles into your ear, pressing himself a bit closer to you. 

You swallow thickly, choosing to look at the pattern in the dragon’s scales. You turn your head to reply, not wanting to shout over the wind. Bakugou cranes his neck down to set his ear right by your mouth. 

“I-It’s fine. Just not used to it.” He smirks at that and leans back. The smug bastard still looks hot when he’s in a teasing mood. 

“Does your world even have anything that can do this? Fly through the sky?” he asks with a mocking chuckle, shaking his head slightly. 

You nod enthusiastically and he just blinks at you. Wait what? He tilts his head at you with a raised brow. You clear your throat and continue. 

“It’s called an airplane. It’s…well I don’t understand the full mechanics of it, but it’s a really, really, highly sophisticated machine that can fly for hours and carry hundreds of passengers.” 

“Huh,” he mutters, eyes tracking your every micro-expression. 

“But this is way cooler! No doubt about it!” you stutter out in a hurry. Why is he so silent all of a sudden? 

“Tch, of course it is…” He’s frowning at you but not in an angry way, but in the way that he’s seriously observing you, taking note of you. 

You lean down and pat Kirishima’s forehead. “You’re the best dragon ever!” 

He purrs and a proud roar follows, his draconic vocal chords humming underneath you and Bakugou. The hours pass by and the sunlit hues transition to early evening when Kirishima lands in a grassy area. Bakugou is right, landing is the actual worst thing about flying. The dragon’s tail sways a bit to reorient himself to solid ground and he fully sinks down on his claws, resting his chin on his front legs. 

Bakugou slips off the dragon with ease, landing in the grass with a barely-there oomf. He extends his hands up at you, fingers flexing to urge you to hold onto him. You lean down and your body slides, hands barely grasping the prince’s before your feet take purchase in the ground. You feel your ankles pop and you groan. Damn, that felt good. You feel the magical hum in the air when Kirishima transforms back to his human form and the smile on his face is contagious. 

“That felt so good! It’s been so long since I’ve been able to fly! Ahh man, we gotta do this more if we can,” the dragon gushes, laughing a bit to himself and flapping his now-smaller wings. 

“Yeah yeah, we’ll see, you overgrown lizard. Some parts of Delalin are not dragon-friendly so we’ll have to be careful.” Bakugou, ever the pragmatic companion, explains with a shake of his head, setting down his pack and stretching his arms above his head. 

“Uh huh. Of course we’ll be careful! Gotta keep Traveler safe,” Kirishima grins at you, bringing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. 

“We’ll do our best, how about that?” You compromise, arms easily finding their way around the dragon’s waist like second nature. He hums and nods, agreeing full-heartedly with your sentiment. 

Bakugou spares a glance at you two, eyeing just how comfortable you two are with each other. Kirishima practically throws his red wings over you every night and his clawed hand never fails to encase yours when walking. The princeling clenches his jaw and nudges his nose, forcing his eyes to look around the area. Kirishima had landed you all by the edge of a small forest, the towering trees just off to the left and rolling green hills to the right. The orange sunlight streams through the leaves of the trees and it’s a beautiful sight. A sight that you wish you could capture with a camera if you had one. 

A wistful smile graces your face watching the sun dip below the horizon, absentmindedly following Bakugou into the trees to hunt for dinner. Your bow came in very useful tonight, and a barely-there impressed smirk comes to the barbarian’s face when you shoot down three hares. He carries them back to camp by their ears, narrowing his eyes at how squeamish you look when you first pick them up. He’ll spare you the skinning…for now. The dragon shifter has compiled a roaring fire, the flickering firelight bringing out the signature warmth in his crimson irises. 

You enjoy dinner with the two men, utterly fascinated with the twinkling stars that peak their way out of cloud cover. Again, you noticed early on when you first arrived that you don’t recognize any constellations but your companions make sure to change that. 

“What’s that constellation over there?” you point to the southwest, finger tracing a bucket-like shape. 

Bakugou looks up and narrows his eyes. “That’s Summer’s Cradle. The Summer celestial is said to have multiple children so Summer’s siblings crafted a permanent spot in the sky for them.” 

“Ohhh…” you hum, nodding along to his words. 

“We only see Summer’s Cradle during the summertime actually. Now that autumn is approaching, we eventually won’t be able to see it,” Kirishima adds, leaning back into the grass on his hands. 

“And what direction is Summer’s Cradle usually in? Or any constellation, really?” You ask, sitting crisscross to pay attention. 

Bakugou takes a sip from his water skin and clears his throat, sharp eyes darting all over the dark tapestry of the night sky. “The Cradle is usually true south, only when we’re getting closer to winter does it become southwest then being unable to see it unless you live south enough where you see it year round. In the direction we’re heading…we might have a few more weeks before we’re too far north.” 

You nod and scoot closer to him, watching him find the heavenly markings that would serve you best. He points to the east and you tilt your head. It truly looks like a cluster of stars to you but he’s obviously seeing something different. 

“See that cluster? There’s six really bright stars, arranged to look like the outline of a pine tree.” 

You focus a bit better and the shape comes to light after a minute of searching. You see it now, a lone star at the top and bottom, with two sets of stars on either side tapering up. “I see it. Which one is that one?” 

“That’s the Huntress’ Pine. It’s always east and visible year round. We’ll be looking out for that one for a bit after we get to Delalin.” 

Kirishima taps your shoulder and you turn to him, his clawed finger pointing at another cluster to the north. “That to the north is the Fisherman’s Hook. The bottom of that kinda half-teardrop shape is true north. If you can’t find that one then the Mage’s Staff is just to the left of it.” 

You scan the twinkling sky, finding the J-shape and the T-shape constellations. You wish you had a notebook or something to write all this down. But you suppose you can keep grilling them with questions when you’re crossing the sea. You’re bound to see these same stars for at least one night aboard the boat. 

“Hey. Look to the west. The box shape there is The Hearth. It’s Winter’s Hearth, but most just call it The Hearth.” Bakugou calls back your attention and you see exactly what he’s talking about. 

You run through all that you’ve learned so far, pointing out and memorizing the markers in the sky to your companions. Kirishima, who is your hypeman through and through, cheers and claps every time you get them correct. Bakugou… is proud but he won’t tell you that. He just grunts and nods his head. 

A weird twinge hits the prince’s gut once you and the dragon fall asleep. He traces the features on your face with unnaturally soft eyes and he scoffs to himself. Kirishima will have a hard time letting you go once you get to the altar. Straihorn is still months away and he knows the connection will only grow deeper. The little tick to his jaw at the thought pisses him off because he knows he’ll have trouble too. You’ve saved Kirishima, given up pieces of yourself for him, and you’re getting used to living in this world now. Even as hard-hearted as he is, he knows he’s softened up to you, and you’ve grown to like his presence as well. 

Shit. This is going to be harder than he’s imagined. 

--

Aboard Sero’s Ship

You and Bakugou pace, unable to keep still. You’re sure your boots have already worn a path into the wood beneath your feet but you can’t stop. You wince when you hear a sharp cry through the Captain’s door, your heart hurting each time a new one pierces your ears. 

Bakugou’s back tenses and his hands clench so tightly, his knuckles almost split. He strides to the door, ready to kick it in when your soft hand on his shoulder reels him back. 

“Bakugou, stop. The Captain said he’ll take good care of Kirishima. We should allow him this little bit of trust,” you hiss, brows turning up. 

“Tch. If that bastard is hurting Kirishima more, I’ll fuckin’ hang him from the crow’s nest.” 

“I’m worried too, but he said it shouldn’t take long. Let’s be a little more patient,” you murmur, lightly squeezing the shoulder you still have a hold of. 

The blond’s red eyes lock with yours and you see a sliver of vulnerability that is unfamiliar to you. It catches you off guard but you don’t point it out, lest the man retreats back into his shell. You let go of him and cross your arms, stepping back to lean against the railing of the upper deck. He copies your stance, crossing his arms and leaning his hip on the railing as well. His fingers drum along on his bicep and he works his jaw left and right occasionally. 

It seems that your small reprieve from chaos has reared its ugly head once again. It’s been so nice traveling to Milosen, then flying to Noria. How the bandits followed you, you’re not sure. You don’t think you want to know actually. If it’s another goddamn tracking spell though, you’re going to lose it. A large wave rocks the ship a bit harder and you lose balance, hands flailing to grab anything! The prince’s hand grips your bicep and he pulls you upright, forcing you to take a few steps closer to him. 

“Watch it, dumbass. Can’t have you hitting your head or falling overboard like a newborn fawn,” he grumbles, releasing you but not moving further from you. 

You mumble a thanks and actually grab the railing this time, looking out at the lower deck and ocean. The dark waters splash and roll and the scent of salt fills your nostrils. It’s peaceful in its own way, the sea. There are no bustling cities, rocky trails, or clawed beasts that lurk in dark trees, but it’s quite lonely. Sero said he’s a retired pirate, perhaps the loneliness got to him too. 

The Captain’s Quarters door opens and you stand to attention. The candlelight illuminates a hunching Kirishima and a cheerful Sero. You rush forward and gently hug your red-haired friend, pouring all your worries and care into your embrace. He hugs you back just as fiercely, burying his face in the crook of your neck and exhaling shakily. 

“He’s all stitched up and bandaged. Just gotta take it easy and not transform for a while,” the pirate instructs, looking between all three of you. 

“Thank you, Captain. I really appreciate it,” you say quietly over Kirishima’s shoulder. 

“It’s no problem. Can’t have my temporary crew working at half capacity right off the bat now can I?” He jokes, leaning on the door frame with clasped hands. 

“Yeah yeah. Just show us where we’ll be sleepin’ alright?” Bakugou is tired, pissed off, worried, and worst of all, feeling the effects of the swaying ship. 

Sero leads you all down a flight of stairs to below the main deck. It’s a small room with a hammock and a…bunk bed-ish type of setup. He sends you off to sleep with a promise to wake you all up in the morning. With a click, the door shuts and you’re left in silence. 

“I’ll take the hammock, you guys take the beds.” Kirishima plops into the scooping fabric that’s barely hanging on and sighs. 

“Are you sure, Kirishima? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable since you need to heal,” you plead, kneeling in front of him and holding his hands. 

Kirishima’s eyebrows go up and his mouth runs dry. Seeing you like this, fussing over him and being gentle with him, it brings a new type of ache to his chest. You’re so sweet and wonderful, it would be insane if he didn’t fall for you. 

“No I…I promise I’ll be fine, Traveler. Besides, I’ll be able to spread my wings out a little better this way without a mattress getting in the way.” He smiles at you, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight from the porthole. 

“He says he’ll be fine, Traveler. You’re coddling him way too much,” Bakugou mutters, shedding his pack and setting it by the beds. 

“Go to bed, Traveler. You need to rest. I’ll see you in the morning, I promise.” Kirishima pushes your hands away, urging you to sleep. 

You set your pack next to the prince’s and climb into bed, already aware that your back and shoulders will suffer when you wake up. The dragon puts out the single candle lantern and the room is submerged in darkness, light breathing and sloshing of the waves against the wood are the only sounds you can hear. You turn in bed, facing the wall, mulling over the words the dragon shifter said earlier. 

“Cooking with the ones you love…” Such a simple phrase, such a mindless statement, and it’s got your heart racing and palms sweating. Damn it, of course this would happen. Of course you would fall for the kind-natured dragon and his gruff barbarian friend. Of course you would. How could you not? 

Your head falls into the lap of the Alien Queen on the couch, your friend cooing and brushing your hair out of the way. She boops your nose and snickers when you swat at her. The late afternoon rain has transformed into a thunderstorm, the rumbling and pitter-patter against the windows halting everyone's weekend plans.

"Then ask him out! Why are you being a wuss about it?" she quips, crossing her arms and looking down at you.

You turn over, facing the ceiling and avoiding Mina's eyes with a pout. She wasn't supposed to counter your venting with logic! You hear footsteps approaching and bury your face in your hands, not quite ready to face reality.

"Everything ok here?" Kirishima raises an eyebrow, an amused smile on his face. He sits next to Mina, propping his arm on the armrest, chin in his hand.

Mina scoffs and nudges your temple with her knuckles. "Doofus here is madly in love with Midor-"

"Shut up, Mina! What the hell? Does the girl code mean nothing to you?" You screech, sitting up and covering her mouth with your hand.

A wetness slicks your palm and you shriek, wiping your hand on Mina's shirt. She cackles and leans into Eijirou, laughter shaking her body. She fucking licked you! What a menace to society.

"Sooo, who's she in love with before you were rudely interrupted?" the red head probes, teasing smile exposing his shark teeth.

You give Mina and Eijirou a pleading look but they only smirk at you. She turns towards him, whispering into his ear your secrets. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you crumble into a ball on the floor, fake sobbing wracking your chest. You just have to be dramatic. If Mina is airing out your business, you'll make for damn sure you'll fuss about it.

"No way," Eijirou gasps, eyes wide and lips parted in wonder.

"Yes way, and it's been like this since first year! Can you believe it? Our girl has been pining ever since," Mina reveals, a wistful look in her eye.

He clears his throat and tilts his head. "Honestly, that's not surprising. They're each other's type. I support it."

Your eyes fly open and you scramble to Eijirou, hands on his shoulders and face a little too close. Did he just say what you thought he said? His hands raise in confusion, turtling his neck to get more distance.

"What. The fuck. Do you mean. 'Each other's type'?" You stress the syllables, voice low and serious.

Oh fuck. He fucked up. Of course this would happen. He awkwardly laughs and presses his lips together, looking to the pink girl for help only to receive none. Brother, that is so unmanly, he basically just confessed for Midoriya.

"Holy shit," Mina exclaims, "you're totally right. I vaguely remember Midoriya saying something a while back but I didn't think he was referring to you!"

She slaps her forehead as realization slams into her. She grabs hold of your hands, relinquishing your harsh grip on Eijirou's shoulders, and pulls them into her own.

"C'mon! No time like the present!" She pulls you along with her, running past the dining room and all the confused faces from the outburst.

She takes the stairs two at a time, nearly driving your face into the staircase edge multiple times.

"Mina! Mina! Slow down! What the fuck are you doing?" you whisper-yell, not even realizing when you've arrived at a certain dorm room door.

"Getting you your first boyfriend, of course! Now go get 'im, hot stuff!" She giggles and knocks loudly on the door, taking off down the hall and leaving you alone.

You clench your jaw and glare daggers at her retreating figure. The door clicks open and you hesitantly look to your left. A sheepish smile adorns your face as does Izuku.

"Hey, what's up? Everything alright?" he asks quietly, wringing his hands in the threshold. Oh man, you're so pretty in your comfy clothes. A Mirko t-shirt and soft, black shorts, perfect for a lazy day in.

You swallow dryly, and nod. Fuck it, just do it. It's your last year at UA and you know Izuku isn't the type of guy to make fun of you for having a crush, even if he doesn't reciprocate.

"Just wondering if we could talk, if you're free," you suggest, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He nods quickly and opens the door wider, ushering you in without words. You step into the All Might-themed room and grin. Izuku has always been such a fanboy, it's adorable. His dorm room has changed over the last few years. He still has the 10th anniversary limited edition poster on his wall, his figurines on the shelf, and the red white and blue bedsheets. His desk is covered in school work and agency applications now, the impending graduation and start of his Hero career just beyond the horizon. The door shuts and the ambient noise of the hall is cut off.

He coughs and sits in his desk chair, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You settle in, scooting back to sit criss-cross applesauce. You simply look around a bit more, a bitter taste in your mouth. You'll miss his room, and your own obviously, but his is special. He is special.

He fidgets, a little unnerved at your continued silence and scrutinization of his personal space. He knows you well enough to know that you've never judged him for his love of the former Number One Hero but maybe he's a little too grown for that now.

"Uhm, Izuku..." you start, finger tracing the print in his blanket. You don't have the courage to look at his face as you speak but you need to get the words out. They've festered for too long now.

He perks up, straightening his shrimp spine and looking at you. Hmm, that's strange. If he didn't know any better, he might've thought that you were being...shy? Or avoidant, perhaps. He catches his laptop screen fade to black in his peripheral, the inactivity timer turning on sleep mode. Damn, has it already been two minutes since you came to his room?

"Eiji...Eijirou mentioned something earlier and I...I wanted to confirm it." You feel the cold sweat on your back, heart beating fast like you had three energy drinks, and your fingers numb. God, why is this so scary?

Izuku's heart drops. Fuck, did Eijirou let it slip? Dammit, he knew he shouldn't have said anything to him. Eijirou isn't the type to just reveal someone's secrets, especially when the content is so case-sensitive. Something must've happened.

"Wha-uh, what did he say?" He croaks out, picking at a stubborn hangnail.

You take a few breaths and glance at Izuku, slightly relieved that he looks just as likely to shit his pants as you are. If Eijirou wasn't fuckin' around, then that would mean your crush of three years has some type of feelings for you. You get up from his soft bed and face the glass door to the balcony.

The storm rages on like the emotions running rampant in his room. Heavy droplets pelt the glass and flashes of white light shine into the space. Storms never made you antsy but you're ready to crawl out of your skin.

"He said that we're each other's type. I'm not sure if he's just screwing around but... is it true? Am I- am I really your type?" you stammer, nervously pacing now. You just couldn't stand still, not with the unsure energy.

Izuku is a deer in headlights. Emerald eyes impossibly wide, face unnaturally pale, he's not even confident he's on the same plane of existence. You've ceased your pacing, now standing directly in front of him, brows upturned and chewing on the inside of your cheek. He can only nod, voice stolen from him and promptly dropped out of his ass.

"Really?" you assert, hands twitching at your sides.

"Y-Yes, really." He stammers, playing with his sweatpants' fastening strings.

Your brain fires a million neurons at a time, body and mind struggling to comprehend. You want to cry in relief, shout for joy, and maybe just grab his face and make out for the next two hours.

You raise a hand, softly cradling his jaw and angling it up. You've always thought he was cute, even going so far as to slap Ochaco when she called him plain. Fuck that noise! The freckles, the green irises, the tiger stripe scars...you've been gnawing at the bars of your enclosure for a long time now. Your restraint is failing.

You surge forward and press your lips to his. Thank God you put on some chapstick earlier. A squeak and a whimper fall from his smushed lips, fueling your fire. His eyes flutter shut, the release of tension loosening his shoulders. You taste like cherries and that one candy you really like. You must've been snacking before you came upstairs.

You step closer, forcing his knees open with your own grazing the edge of his chair. The movement forces his neck to crane up, chasing after your sweetness. Fingers slot into green curls and nails rake his scalp. You catch the long scar now hidden by his hair, the sensitive skin sending a shiver down Izuku's spine.

His scarred hands grasp your wrists, not to stop you, but to anchor himself. He's floating, soul on cloud nine and heart ascending to the heavens. Never would he have thought you'd kiss him, never in a million years. You're more fervent now, mouth sloppy and hands restless. Lungs scream for air and you barely pull away to catch a breath. A string of spit connects you and your eyes darken.

He's heaving, cheeks flushing, pupils dilating, and he can't get enough of you. "Are you ok? Did you want to stop?" He's such a sweetheart, ensuring your comfort.

You lick your lips, an action that doesn't go unnoticed, and you take a step back. You hook your finger into the neckline of his shirt, urging him to get up. He stands on wobbly legs but towers over you anyways. He's so tall now, consistent exercise and a healthy diet spurring on his height quickly in the last two years.

"Follow me." He aches, your sultry voice akin to a siren's call. He'd follow you to the ends of the earth if it meant one more minute of your lips on his.

You lead him to his bed and push his shoulders down, straddling his strong thighs in one swift motion. His face is red, tinted with his desire and you're not faring much better. You dive right in, devouring his mouth and sounds.

He's a bit bolder now, hands resting lightly on your waist. He doesn't dare to wander but he's too distracted to think about that now. Your tongue licks his lower lip and he gasps in surprise, giving you the opportunity to explore. He moans when your tongues entangle, the sensation so foreign and exciting. He tries to repeat your movements, copying your swipes and pokes but he's fumbling. His brain is so foggy, he's so overwhelmed.

You notice the falter to his movements and slow down, hands gently cupping his cheeks. You separate for just a moment.

"You okay, Izuku?" You're breathless, eyes half-lidded but you're caressing his facial scar like he's porcelain.

"I just- just need a minute. I can't think straight," he mutters against your lips, squeezing the soft flesh of your waist.

You smile and kiss the tip of his nose, bringing his head to your chest and combing through his curls. His arms fully wrap around your body, entrapping you closely. His ear is pressed to your sternum, hearing your erratic heartbeat.

"So does this mean that I'm your type too?" he shyly asks, looking at you from beneath his luscious lashes.

You giggle and press one more kiss to his swollen, pink lips. "Does this answer your question?" you tease.

He narrows his eyes at you and smiles halfway, looking to your lips and back to your own blown pupils. His tongue wets his bottom lip and he shifts your hips closer, face contorted to a mischievous smirk.

"I don't know...I think I'm gonna need some convincing," he rasps, brushing your noses together but keeping your lips apart like the minx he is.

You grasp a handful of hair at his nape and pull, relishing the hiss that escapes him. His eyes are dark pools of heat and desire and you drown in them. The hand not occupied in his hair trails down, a finger pressing into his carotid, a nail scraping along his covered collarbone. A wanton sigh passes his lips and goosebumps cover his arms.

"You like it like this, don't you?" You murmur, leaving wet kisses down his neck. A whine, a tight squeeze of his arms, and a jolt of his hips bring an evil smile to your face.

"I didn't know you were such a freak, Izuku. It's kinda hot honestly," you taunt, licking the shell of his ear.

A throaty moan and pleading eyes is all the confirmation you need but he plays along. "I think you like me like this."

You grit your teeth and target the junction of his neck and shoulder, sucking the skin and bruising it. He sighs, letting his eyes fall shut and just simply enjoy your assault on his body. Your hips roll unconsciously and he jumps at the stimulation.

"Oh God," he mumbles, his own mouth taking purchase to your neck and marking you up. He's gotta lock the fuck in or he'll embarrass himself. Your hands tug at his shirt and he pulls away just long enough to rip it off himself.

It tickles his skin, the tender strokes of your eager fingers and the soft cotton of your shirt. He realizes this is the first time he's actually had a woman in his lap and ogling his body. He feels strangely...empowered? The hungry look in your eye and bite of your lip tells him how much you like what you see.

Your panties are soaking, the wetness already seeping through the fabric and onto your lounge shorts. You can feel him, his heat, right under you and you chase it like a wanderer to an oasis. He's so hard and leaking all over, for sure staining his boxers and sweatpants. You rock back and forth, the thickness of him and the bunching fabric of his sweats rubbing your clit perfectly and you moan right into his ear.

"You feel so good, Izu...so good for me," you slur, locking your lips back onto his.

He whimpers into your mouth, sliding his big hands under your shirt and feeling your heated skin. Your hands guide him to cup your tits, urging him to squeeze and fondle. He's so flustered and lovesick and he's sure his face is as red as a tomato at this point. His thumbs circle your nipples and he mentally catalogues the noise you make, the shift of your core, and the arching of your back. Oh, he'll use that to his advantage.

"I-I can't hold on-" he stutters, feeling the coil in his belly wind tighter and tighter as the seconds pass.

"Me neither, baby." His breath hitches at the term of endearment, eyes softening and lips quirking up.

He can feel your slick dampening his own clothes, salivating for a taste of you...but not tonight. No, no, no, that's far too soon. Your nails dig into his shoulders the closer you get and his own arms tense.

You cum with a shudder and a moan muffled into the skin of his neck. He follows right after with a flex of his thighs and abdomen, high-pitched whines echoing in his room. You pant from the exertion, internally wincing at the crescent indents you leave in his skin. Izuku's strong arms are around your back, refusing to let you go and holding you close.

You twirl a curl around your index, mind hazy and body slack. "Was that ok for you?" You can't help but to ask, hoping you didn't bulldoze any boundaries tonight.

"Are you kidding me?" He's bewildered. Why are you asking? Were his noises and reactions not enough? "First time I've done something like this and you blew it out the fuckin' water!"

You pull back, amused smile on your face. "Since when did you swear?"

He chuckles lightly, palms sliding down your back to your thick thighs now, loving the warmth and strength in them. "Since I've got a pretty girl on my lap who's kissed the life back into me and made me cum untouched."

You throw your head back and laugh. You like this side of him, the sassy and straightforward facet to his diamond personality. He beams at your laughter, the sound is music to his ears.

You descend to soft giggles and grin at him in that adorable way that he likes. It's bashful but not fearful, the very image he wishes to see everyday. He clears his throat, post-nut clarity setting in.

"So...uhh, I guess I should ask, huh?" He's timid, hand scratching behind his ear.

You frown and tilt your head at him, silently wanting clarification. He swallows and his usual nervous demeanor resurfaces. "Can I be your boyfriend? Please?"

You giggle out a yes and pepper kisses all over his face, taking care to plant more on the jagged scar adorning his cheek. Your pursuit in showing him affection throws his off balance and he lands on his back with an oomf. You collapse on top of him and bring your kisses lower, going over the red love bites you've showered him with.

"Oh please," he begs, the bruises increasing his sensitivity. He's back to holding your hips and he decides that he likes holding you there.

"Let's not get too carried away. I have a feeling we went further than we should've already." At least you let him down gently and that he can respect.

He nods and takes a deep breath. You're not entirely wrong but goddamn, did he enjoy everything that happened. You crawl off his lap and shakily make your way to his dresser. He's impressed, he didn't really do much and you're struggling to keep upright. Is that the effect he has on you?

Yes. Yes, it is.

You rifle through his clothes and pull out a fresh pair of boxers and All Might sweats. You set the items on his desk and return to him, climbing back on his lap. He's got an arm tucked behind his head, an arrogant smirk on his face.

You're magnetized to his body, lips mashing together again and it's so hard to stop. The flesh is willing but the heart is weak, you need to take a break before you do something you're not ready for. Reluctantly, you place a hand on his chest and pull away, eyes scanning the fucked-out and blissful ease on his face. He's so pretty like this.

"I have a proposition for you," you begin, tracing the damaged skin on his cheek.

"Oh really?" He jests, putting both arms behind his head now. You're momentarily distracted, the hulking muscles and bulging veins catching your eye like it usually does when you train together in Gym Gamma.

Now that you're looking with a clear head, freckles cover most of his skin, especially his shoulders and face. The unmarred patches of his arms carry them as well. The sky is still dark with angry clouds and his ceiling light has yet to be turned on but you see well enough. Countless constellations are borne in his skin and you fall a little deeper in love. You'd love to pencil in those galaxies any day of the week. You clear your throat and glare at him. He only smiles with his pearly whites, irises disappearing from his wide grin. What a brat, using his body to derail your thoughts.

"Yes, a proposition. We both take a shower, calm down a little bit, and maybe we could meet up in my room. Say, like half an hour?"

He purses his lips to the side, faux pondering and before releasing a forlorn sigh. "I suppose that's acceptable."

You press a kiss to his sternum and hop off, wagging your fingers from the doorway as a wave goodbye. He reciprocates, chuckling lightly at your cute antics. You close the door behind you and Izuku stares at the ceiling, mind reeling at what transpired.

"Holy shit," he mutters, sitting up and holding his head in his hands.

"I think I owe Eijirou a lifetime worth of meat."

You sit up and rub your eyes, a yawn stretching your mouth open. Your tired eyes scan your companions, the head of red hair tangled and the head of blond sticking up everywhere. Inch by inch, you gingerly climb off the bed and head to the restroom, ridding yourself of the pressure in your pelvis.

You clean up and sit on the edge of the bed, looking to the moonless sky. Tonight was almost...normal. Normal in that you grabbed a meal and got drinks with a few friends like you would have any other weekend in your home world. The food was delicious, seasoning and sauces flavoring the mixture wonderfully on your tongue. You even tried some of Kirishima's cinder wine, the sweetness greatly enjoyed by you and the dragon.

Fingers crinkle your pants and your nose scrunches, you visibly cringe at the memory of the bard coming onto you so strongly. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you bury your face into your hands, a muffled grumble escaping you. You feel flattered, of course you do, but it was unexpected. This guy, who knows nothing about you, was blatantly hitting on you and to say you feel shy in retrospect is an understatement.

"Oh my God...." you whisper to yourself, heartbeat fluttering. You stand and begin to pace, arms crossing tightly.

You try to fight the giddy little smile that makes an appearance but it wins by a landslide. The playful demeanor of Kaminari was quite refreshing...but the gruff jealousy from Bakugou was such a rush to experience. You shake your head and take a deep breath, no, now's not the time to be thinking about things like that! You take a few more breaths and get back into bed, nestling up to the dragon like you usually do.

You yawn again and your eyelids droop, but your hands are restless. You pick up a lock of red hair and start a small braid, weaving the pieces gently to not wake Kirishima. You don't have a hair tie so you just tuck the finished product behind the pointy, bejeweled ear. You smile, admiring his slacken, relaxed countenance in the dim room. You start another braid, this time a little higher up on his temple. You pause when he shifts, nudging his head closer to yours.

You go a little cross-eyed, zeroing on the soft tip of his nose just a hair's breadth from yours. Your fingers abandon the braid, one hand tucking under your cheek, the other cradling Kirishima's. The scales dotting his cheekbone and jaw scratch your palm, your thumb caressing the apple of his cheek. You hold your breath, nuzzling his nose. You're so close to him, the heat from his skin is making you sweat. Your heart thrums in your chest and your chin tilts, lips nearly brushing his. You snap out of it.

You rip your hand from him and turn around, eyes wide and chest heaving with shallow breaths. That was close, too close. Too close to blurring the boundary set in stone. This is a rescue mission, not recess where you get to play house. You knew you were catching feelings, and not just the innocent kind. You cannot jeopardize this, you won't let it.

You clench your jaw and focus your eyes on the baubles of Bakugou's necklaces. Anything to distract you from the admittedly amazing body behind you. On second thought, maybe facing the blond wasn't a good idea either. The shadows on his face pronounce his jaw and cheekbones, hair messy but complimenting him nonetheless. Oh, you're in trouble now.

Even in sleep, the blond grunts and grumbles like he does in the waking hours. His face is softer, but he still frowns, the little wrinkle between his eyebrows ever present. The blanket's haphazardly strewn across him, covering his chest diagonally with one leg sticking out. How he can survive without wearing a shirt is beyond you but you drink up what you can shamelessly. He's beautiful too, like his dragon, but different. He's tenacious, unrelenting, unwilling to face defeat. The type of strength you've always wanted.

You regard him differently now, with more respect and kindness than before. He was a pain in the ass when you first got here but now he's your pain in the ass. He's done so much for you and your mission has only just begun. He's fed you, clothed you, protected you, trained you, with no signs saying he'll stop anytime soon. You hope it won't, you don't think you could handle that type of rejection.

--

You fall asleep to the gentle guitar strumming, Kaminari showcasing his musical magic to revitalize the party. You are sandwiched between the dragon and barbarian again, dual heat sources on either side and you snuggle into Bakugou's back, the burnt sugar smell to his cape invading your nose. He always smells like this, it has to be his magic.

You dream, but not like the past nights. You dream of a flower field, a quaint cottage, and your hands busily burying themselves in blond and red hair, their respective heads lying in your lap. It's peaceful, and quiet, and exactly where you want to be. You don't speak, or if you do, you don't hear it. A gentle breeze, a faint floral fragrance, and a warm hand running up and down your shin just feels so right that you miss it once the scene changes.

You see the unicorn again, the one whose mane you stroked just earlier in the day. Its voice chimes in your head, the words repeating in that same calm cadence. The silver hair is soft, gleaming in the afternoon sun. Its snout nudges your cheek affectionately and you giggle, reaching up the scratch right above its nose. A soft whinny, another nudge, and it leaves you in the clearing it found you in. It seems to disappear into thin air past the tree line and you bring your attention to your surroundings.

You look around, lop-sided smile appearing when you see the apple tree you got your snacks from. You walk up to it and pluck another, the fruit cool and sweet on your tongue. As you chew, you wonder where your friends are. It's not like them to leave you all alone, that's too dangerous. Ehh, you'll find them. Bakugou said the elven forest is nowhere near to being a threat like the Hadera forest.

You keep walking, occasionally kicking a rock off the path or stepping on a crunchy leaf. An insurmountable sadness hits you out of nowhere, the heaviness in your chest throwing you off balance. You don't recognize the trees and pathways anymore, the animal calls sound different, and your pack feels heavier than normal. Your companions are nowhere to be found. You drop the half-eaten apple, eyes wide and frantic to find a tuft of red hair or a sweep of the beloved red cape. There's no one here, no one to help you, no one to guide you and you feel so alone. You can't do this alone! Can you?

You awake with a jerk, blurry eyes seeing a face above you. You groan and blink, a relived sigh deflating your lungs when you see Kaminari with a sympathetic smile.

"Sorry Traveler, didn't mean to wake you like that. It's your turn for the watch," he whispers, cautiously stepping past your cuddle pile and back to his bedroll.

You stretch your arms, a strained noise leaving you and Kaminari snorts, stifling a laugh. You shoot him an unimpressed look and he presses his lips together, hands raised in defeat. You sit up, moving Kirishima's strong arm around you to lay next to his head. He's purring a bit, something you've taken notice of as of late. You're glad he feels content considering the circumstances.

You yawn and look at the dying fire, happy that you were able to stay warm when you were sleeping. You shake your head and pat your cheeks, waking yourself up a bit more. You need to stay sharp in case anything roams a little too close. You adjust yourself, sitting crosslegged with your bow and arrow just at the head of the bedroll.

"Were ya dreaming?" the bard asks, laying on his side with his head propped up in his hand.

"Yeah, I was," you confirm, another yawn breaking your train of thought.

"Was it something bad? You were moving around a lot," he speculates, soft golden-brown eyes assessing your face.

You puff out a breath, trying to remember what it was you saw and felt. You clear your throat.

"It started out nice. I was...in a field full of flowers with a little house off to the side. We- I was just relaxing," you recount, nearly letting slip that you weren't alone. Knowing Kaminari a bit better now, he'd tease the hell out of you if you said you were with the dragon and princeling.

He hums, signaling his undivided attention. You continue after some more thinking.

"Then the scenery changed and I was back in that clearing with the unicorn. I pet it and it kinda nuzzled me. It was really cute," you lightly chuckle, fingers playing with the laces of your boots.

"I found the apple tree we stopped at and got another apple. It tasted just as good as the ones we had."

Kaminari perks up. "Those apple bunnies you made were so charming, not to mention the apples already tasted heavenly!"

You laugh and nod. That's right, you put that seemingly useless skill to use today and Kirishima's surprised face was one you'd love to see again and again. Your brain continues its reminiscence, face souring when it got to the end.

"What's wrong?" the bard asks, brows upturned in concern.

You sigh and swallow the sadness. "As I was eating the apple, I was walking the path we went down but none of you were with me. I thought it was weird but I brushed it off. It got to a point where I don't think I was in the same place anymore. I didn't recognize anything."

You take a shaky breath, steeling your nerves. You clasp your hands into the warm fabric of Bakugou's cape, his sleeping form lying inches in front of you.

"I started to panic. Nothing was familiar anymore. The trees looked different, even the animals sounded more ferocious. I was completely alone and I didn't know what to do or where to go. That's when you woke me up."

You rub at your eyes, cursing yourself when you see the little streak of wetness on your hand. Do you ever stop crying?! Kaminari gives you a sad little smile, sympathy all over his features. You wish that look wasn't directed at you so often but you can't get yourself to care about it now.

"I'm sorry Traveler. That must have been really scary. Solterra is full of beautiful places and wondrous creatures but it's just as dangerous. I would feel the same way," he consoles, voice soft and calm.

"I know you mentioned that you're not from around here so I get it. I've been to quite a few towns and cities that were completely foreign. I was out of my element, felt like I bit off more than I could chew but I made it work. I know you can too."

You look to him, an uncharacteristic warmth to his face. You nod, digesting his words. He's got a point. He's a famous bard, for crying out loud, he's traveled the continent more than you have. He's most likely done it alone too, since he's not part of a group. If he can do it and get out unscathed, you can too if the need calls for it. God forbid you need to, but that'll be a time when you pull up your adult-ing pants and tough it out. You'll cherish every moment you get with Kirishima and Bakugou before you part ways.

"Don't think too hard about it, it's just a dream. Dreams may bring our fears to life, but that's all it is: fear. Not reality."

Those are the last words he imparts on you before rolling over and tucking himself under the thin blanket. The orange glow of the embers and little flame keep you occupied for a while. You try to follow Kaminari's advice, to not think about it, but you can't. Not really. What if it's a warning? A premonition that something will happen and you have to continue your journey alone. There's realistically no way that it's true, but it seemed all too real.

If dragons and magic and creatures of all sorts can exist here, who's to say the universe can't tell you that you'll be alone in the end? You swallow and a ragged breath leaves you. Gotta stop thinking these depressing thoughts. They both made a promise to get you home and they will. You know the way will be treacherous, it already has been, but you'll get through it together.

Bakugou groans and twitches, rolling over to now face you. Just like the previous night, your eyes are drawn to his form. The cloak covers him but his arm is outstretched, missing your sitting form by a few inches. You've gathered that he's a light sleeper from your time together, so you don't even dare to touch him like you would Kirishima. You admire from afar, the gentle breaths leaving his lips, blond lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, orange armguards that show off how built he is.

You find it hard to look away but can you blame yourself? He's a beautiful specimen of a human....err, Dragon-soul really, but that's just a technicality. Is there a version of him that could have existed in your world? Would he be friends with you, with Kirishima? Would he have the same personality? Is there a version of you that exists here you've just happened to not stumble upon? Questions with no answers, theories with no proof, and none of it matters. Not when you need to get home.

Not when the knife in your heart twists deeper and deeper, knowing just how hard you're falling for them. Not when the moment you arrive at the alter, you have to leave them behind. Not when you arrive back at home...and there's no dragon eating you from house and home and no barbarian cooking in your kitchen. Not when you know a part of your soul will be left behind with them.

Bakugou's sharp red eyes stay on the cave entrance, watching for any monsters that pass by. He lays next to you, cocooning you in warmth with his red cape covering you all. The blessed boundary stakes are keeping you safe but what if? What if something powerful knocks them out of the way and devours you all? Wait no stop, calm down, it's okay. Those chilling howls and desperate cries are fake, just a ploy to lure you out into the lion's den. Bakugou is here, he'll keep you safe.

The one torch that's kept lit flickers with the cool magic in the air. The blue flame is hauntingly beautiful, something paranormal and altogether entrancing. Your eyes flick between the sleeping dragon and the torch. Your eyelids are heavy but fear ignites in your blood. You jump from a particularly loud growl...something is moving outside.

"Bakugou," you whisper, eyes wide and watering. You grip Kirishima a little tighter and look to your other companion.

"It's alright, the stakes will keep it out. The blessings on those is damn strong, they know to avoid it," he rasps, voice just as low and careful.

You don't even think he notices it, but you see the traces of fear in him too. The little frown to his lips that's a bit different than his usual one, eyes a little too wide for how tired he should be feeling, and the tensing of his arms like he's ready to unsheathe his dual swords.

"Go to sleep, you need the rest," he murmurs, shifting a bit. His body is angling toward you but he keeps one hand on a sword hilt, prepared to draw.

You look at him over your shoulder, and give him an incredulous look. "You think I can sleep after the amount of shit that's happened since we've stepped foot in this fucking forest?"

You don't mean to sound so cruel but you're getting seriously pissed off. Your words bite and Katsuki resists the urge to flinch at the venom in your tone. He knows it's not directed at him but he huffs at you anyways. "The fuck did you say to me?"

You swallow, confidence waning at his narrowing eyes but you stay strong, even though your throat tightens. "Imagine if I didn't hit my mark, if I missed it by a little bit, where do you think we would be right now?"

Katsuki clenches his jaw, hating that your hypothetical scenario is the same one that's been turning over and over in his brain. He clicks his tongue at you but he doesn't move away. Maybe in his own way, this is him seeking comfort.

You look back at the dragon snoozing in your arms and you bite your lip, the tremor in your hands still present. The cape retains what little heat you collectively give off and Kirishima seems to be shivering less but his skin barely feels warm. God, you need to get out of this forest.

You sigh and press your cheek to his forehead, hand combing through his tangled red hair. The motion soothes you, the repetition numbing your thoughts and slowing your heart, maybe you will get some sleep.

Your hand stills after a few minutes and Katsuki leans over, pulling your hand from the dragon's tresses to tuck under the cloak. Your hand is cold when he touches it and an involuntary chill goes down his spine. Damn, even you're cold.

Your eyelashes flutter with the machinations of your imagination, arm twitching a few times. Bakugou bites the inside of his cheek and relinquishes his hold on the hilt, warm hand rubbing up and down your arm. This is so weird, he's not like this. He doesn't...cuddle or physically comfort anybody, nor has he wanted to. Except you.

You hum in your sleep and snuggle back into him, back pressing against his chest and he shudders. Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods, don't freak out. He slowly exhales, the hand on your arm retreating to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. He hesitates, the soft cloth of your outer shirt felt so nice on his rough palms but he grits his teeth. He returns his hand back to his side, fingers missing your warmth as they wrap around the cool leather of his sword hilt. He faces you one last time.

"What the fuck are you doing to me?" he whispers to you, gaze focusing on the ghost torch.

--

"Let's stop here to rest. Looks big enough," Bakugou murmurs, pointing to fallen tree just a few steps away.

You gulp as the dim blue flame from the torch illuminates your surroundings. It's not far off the main path but it's not nearly as secluded as the cave from before. The large tree, tipped on its side, is hollowed out and empty. You're not sure what could have done that but you choose not to think too hard about it.

"This might be as good as we get unfortunately," the dragon next to you comments, gingerly ducking his head and entering the hollow. You follow and you can't help the shivers that wrack your spine when it's even cooler inside.

The torch is planted in a groove within the bark to not set fire to anything else but still light up the area. Your nerves twitch at every crunch in the wet gravel, every skitter of tiny feet. You can almost feel the sharp pincers from the ghoul spider graze your neck from the day before and you bring a hand up to protect your nape. Thank fuck Bakugou was quick to get it off you.

"You need rest, Katsuki, I'll keep watch," Kirishima offers with a small smile, setting his pack down between his legs.

The barbarian doesn't argue, only grunts in acknowledgment. With Kirishima to your left and Bakugou to your right like last night, you sleep fitfully.

Echoes of the Black Scourge's garbled voice haunt your dreams. You keep running and running but you can't escape it. Black mud and rotting twigs lodge themselves in your clothes, your tears burn a trail down your face and neck, and the creature on its horse behind you only cackles. You call out their names, the two men who have been by your side all this time, but they don't reply. Maybe the Scourge got to them already, maybe they fought valiantly to give you more time to run...maybe they used you as bait and save their own hides.

Damn, how you wish that weren't true. Even as you continue to stumble through the dark forest, the creature taunts you with promises of sending you home, of bringing you peace. Would it be so bad to take up the offer?

You jerk awake when the black sword slashes your neck and Bakugou quirks an eyebrow at you. He's got the map pulled out, fingers splaying on the paper. The torch doesn't provide much light but it's enough to gather his bearings.

"Bad dream," you mumble, burying your face in the fur of the beloved red cape your companion pulled out again.

"You alright, Traveler? Want to talk about it?" Kirishima chimes in, scooting a bit closer to you and nudging your shoulder with his.

You shake your head. No, you'd rather not. Not that you're ashamed but that it would do no good. No amount of talk therapy will get rid of sickening dread and revolting pain of being in this place. You lean your head against the dragon's shoulder and he lays his cheek on your hair. You close your eyes, the soft intimacy perfect for calming your racing mind.

"We should be out of here soon. Deku said it'd take three days to get out of here and I don't plan on making it any longer. Let's eat our rations and get going again," Bakugou instructs, pulling the dried meat and fruits from his pack and distributing them.

You chew absentmindedly, taking the water skin to soothe your dry mouth. God, you can't wait to get out of here.

--

You've gone camping back in your world, known what types of sounds to expect when sleeping in the wilderness, and it brings such a relief to your heavy chest to hear crickets and birdsong again. You've made it out of the Hadera forest and you're all still alive.

You sit around the fire, eating some rations and a cooked hare Kirishima caught by pure luck. The jerky is getting pretty old, the salt and seasoning no longer appetizing after quite a few days of only consuming that. You choke down all that you can to fill your stomach and you lean back, hands in the soft grass and eyes to the starlit sky.

"I can't wait to take a bath," you mumble, already imaging the hot water lapping at your skin and the gentle soap cleansing the grime.

"Damn straight, outsider. That damn forest has leeched its disgusting shit onto me." Bakugou agrees gruffly, inspecting his dirty arms and roughed up pants.

"I bet it's gonna feel like heaven once we get to Kanporo. Finally back in civilization with actual food." Kirishima daydreams, eyes half-lidded with conjured images of plates and bowls of all his favorites.

"Yeah yeah, just don't eat a damn hole through my wallet, greedy lizard."

You snort and lay back fully, hands behind your head. "I'm glad we're out of there, safe and together."

The two men nod, no other words needed to share in your relief. The princeling douses the fire and lays out his bedroll, laying down across from you. The steaming embers cloud your vision of the blond head of hair but you're reminded of your first night clearly. You've made so much progress already, it's not worth it to predict every mishap that could derail you. Every step forward is a step forward, no matter how long it takes to take that next one.

"Goodnight Traveler," Kirishima whispers to you, snuggling up behind you and throwing an arm around your waist.

"Goodnight," you reply, tucking your hands under your cheek and closing your eyes. The wind rustles the grass blades by your face, carrying a faint scent of fresh flora. You've never been so happy to sleep under a cloudless sky.

Kirishima, the gentle dragon who showered you with kindness from the moment he found you, has turned on you. He nearly trampled the prison wagon you were kept in with Bakugou, he almost burnt you and the princeling to a crisp, and he seems to only have rage behind his draconic irises. He is terrifying in his true form, and your hands have not stopped shaking.

Bakugou forcing you to leave, with his beloved cape nonetheless, drives home the stake in your heart at the misfortune that plagues you. You tug the fabric closer to your chest, the cape engulfing you completely. It even smells like him, that burnt sugar that must be from his magic and that natural musk. Tears sting your eyes and you bury your face into the stranger's back, letting the tears drip onto the expensive vest.

The stranger has not said much and he hasn't flinched at your crippling emotional state, only taking hold of the reins tighter and guiding you out of the dark forest. It's nearly daybreak now, the birds beginning their chirping and crickets increasing in volume.

You're so tired of this, so tired of running, so tired of feeling useless, so tired of trying to get back home only to take two steps back every time you take one forward. Going to the library that day was a huge fucking mistake, but how could you have known? As grateful as you are to know that fantastical beasts exist, you only seem to cause trouble wherever you go. Kirishima being the case in point here.

Your stupid book, and stupid gem, have separated you from the barbarian and the dragon and now the dragon is out for blood. God, can you never do anything right, even in a parallel universe? You take a shaky breath and will your mind to slow down. Right now, everything is okay. You're being taken into the capital city, where Bakugou said he'd meet you, and everything will be fine. Yes, everything will be fine.

--

Your afternoon with the dual-toned prince and alchemist was a good distraction but once nighttime came, it all comes rushing back. Midoriya, ever the sweetheart, has offered to stay with you through the night but truly, you don't deserve it. You'll keep him awake with your sobbing and you seem to only bring bad luck to those who help you. You'd rather wallow in your grief and pity than let someone else pull you out of it.

You collapse on the plush bed and stare out the window. The moon is cold and ethereal and so far away, much like Bakugou and Kirishima. You miss them so damn much, and you feel the pain spilling over. You bury your face in the feather pillow and let it out. Tears, shaking shoulders, and anguished cries are muffled into the soft material. Haven't you cried enough? You've been crying everyday since you landed here and it doesn't seem to stop. No wonder Bakugou wants to get rid of you, you're pathetic and consumed by your own emotions. You're not strong like him, not resilient, not resourceful.

You turn to your side, wrapping the red cape around you and simply cry as you watch the moon. The cape so warm and strangely comforting, even though Bakugou thinks you a pest at best. You've never missed the heavy leather wing more than you do now. Oh, how you wish Kirishima could cuddle up to you right now, heat radiating to you and keeping you safe. Your tinge of fear at the dragon's true form is quelled at your aching for him.

Is he okay? Is Bakugou able to save him? Is Bakugou even alive? Please be okay, please. Your tired mind races with countless questions and worries and it seeps into your dreams. You toss and turn to images of a crippled Kirishima, or a disheartened Bakugou. Dream you is devastated no matter the outcome, collapsing to your knees and bawling your eyes out into your hands. Bakugou at one point drives his scimitar through your chest, yelling how it's all your fault his dragon is dead. Perhaps you deserve it. Maybe you do, after all.

--

Breakfast was more refreshing than you thought it would be. You barely ate yesterday but it seems that your appetite has returned. Four days under a sleeping potion and a whole night escaping does quench hunger.

After Midoriya shows you how to work the bath, you sink into the hot water and groan. You're thankful that Uraraka, the mage, has healed your burns. You're sure you would be in a world of hurt right now if she hadn't. The warmth relaxes your sore muscles and you just sit there for a bit.

Running for hours on end had made your calves cramp up more times than expected and the soothing water eases the tension. You reach for a bar of soap and begin scrubbing. You watch the crystal clear water become grey with the ash and dirt that is pulled from your skin. Ew, how did you even sleep knowing you were so grimy? Oh yeah, that's right, you were in emotional distress...carry on!

Might as well wash your hair while you're at it. You step out of the tub and drain the mucky water, filling it once again and getting back to work. You dunk your head under and reemerge, taking the soap to your face and neck. You rinse off and begin on your messy strands. Your grimace knowing that your hair won't have that same silkiness and shine your products back home can bring you but this will have to do.

You dunk your head again and wring out the remaining water, toweling off your hair and body while the tub drains again. You look to the bed where Midoriya left your new clothes and you smile a bit. Prince Todoroki sure is generous to buy you these garments at the drop of a hat.

You unfold the items, laying out an undershirt, pants, and a half-sleeve vest top that reminds you of a haori. The colors and fabric are well-chosen, nothing too flashy nor too heavy. It must be summer time here just based on how brightly the sun shines. You put them on and are pleasantly surprised at how well they fit you. Todoroki does have an eye for these things, doesn't he?

With your new clothes adorned, along with the red cloak and wet hair tied up out of the way, you descend the stairs to meet with the alchemist and prince again.

--

The golden rays of sunset bleed through the trees and Bakugou's hair glows. You're trying not to get distracted by how fluffy it looks but it's hard to focus on hitting the target when it's right there! You bet his hair is soft, it certainly looks it but you wouldn't dare to even get that close to him voluntarily.

"Stop rounding your shoulders, you'll hurt yourself, idiot." Ah there it is, a nice dose of reality. It seems the only soft thing about Bakugou is his hair, unlike his intense training for you.

"You act like I'm not trying," you mumble under your breath and tense your back, trapezius muscles straining to straighten out your posture.

"Hah? You really wanna take an attitude with me, outsider?" He walks up behind you and places his forefingers over your shoulders, thumbs pressing into the bone of your shoulder blade.

He pushes his thumbs in and your upper body pulls back, bringing you into a more proper archer stance. You wince a bit, feeling your sternum and collarbones shift into places that feel unnatural for you. Archery is not your hobby, nor your strong suit. This is a steep learning curve and the pressure is on. You're heading into a deadly forest in a few days' time, you need to be competent with your bow and arrow by then.

His hands leave you and you sigh from relief. He barely seems to exert any force and you can already feel the bruises that will appear tomorrow morning. Just how strong is he, truly? Your arms are trembling at the effort to keep themselves where they are at, though you suppose it's good practice. If you don't let loose that arrow soon, you might just get your first ever arm cramp. Yeah... no thanks.

"Hold that. You should always default to this position, especially when we're training," he grunts out, moving back to the side where he's been watching you. "Now aim, take a breath, and release."

You fix your gaze straight ahead and close one eye. Remember what he said, aim a bit higher than you think. You let out a breath and relax your fingers, the taut twine snapping forward and propelling the arrow. The pointed end driving into the tree bark earns an excited yelp from you but Bakugou is less than impressed.

You purse your lips in resignation, already feeling your sense of accomplishment draining. Bakugou is a tough motherfucker, you know this, but he is an even tougher teacher. Ok sure, maybe the marked spot on the tree, meant to be your bullseye, was a full foot above where your arrow landed but still! You actually hit the tree this time and that deserves celebration. Kirishima agrees. The dragon emerges from the tree line with tonight's dinner in tow.

"Way to go, Traveler! You're picking it up quickly!" He bounds up to you with some type of deer slung over his shoulder, and he smiles so brightly you want to cry. You know you can always count on Kirishima to lift your spirits.

"Thanks, Kirishima," you shyly reply, twisting the bow in your hand.

"Took you long enough, Shitty Scales. Give it to me," the barbarian scoffs and gestures to the creature.

"Alright sure! Be careful, it's heavy." The dragon lifts the deer and Bakugou takes it with ease, hefting it onto his shoulders and walking away to your makeshift camp.

You turn back to the tree and retrieve your arrow with much difficulty. It's lodged in the wood and you struggle to pull it out. Kirishima chuckles, in good faith, and helps you. The sharp metal point makes a reappearance and you stow it back in your borrowed quiver.

Today has been long, but you wouldn't trade it for anything. Being reunited with Kirishima and Bakugou have lightened your heart in more ways than one. You've missed them, one more so than the other but that's just technicalities. They are people that are willing to risk their lives to get you home and that's reason enough to stick with them.

"Thank you for catching us dinner," you say quietly, grass crunching softly under your boots.

"Oh it's no problem, I don't mind it. Keeps me sharp and to use my senses," he laughs, tapping his nose for good measure.

"Can you usually smell prey? Is your sense of smell that sensitive?" you ask, stopping to stand in a sun spot.

Kirishima joins you and he closes his eyes, humming at the sun's warmth. "Yeah I can. Some better than others but I don't have trouble finding us food if there's food to find. We aren't always the only ones hunting."

You nod and resume your trek to the camp only to gag at the fresh animal skin that lays on the ground. Bakugou sure is proficient with dressing, that's for sure. You turn away as subtly as you can, not wanting the princeling to ridicule you for another thing.

This is world is so different from yours, you remind yourself. Nothing is quite the same. The grass is still green and the sun is still warm but some things are mismatched. Magic flows in blood and the stars are jumbled. Flying beasts and unfamiliar biology run rampant here and it's disorienting. The horns on Kirishima's head, the wings, the sparks that emit from Bakugou's hands, none of that should exist but it does...and you're smack dab in the middle of it.

"You alright?" Kirishima gently prods, leading you a bit further away from the crime scene that is your upcoming meal.

You follow him, and he leads you to a little meadow off to the side, still within eyesight of the barbarian. You sit in the flowers and pull at a stem, toying with the petals as you think of your answer.

Are you alright? No, of course not. You've been ripped away from your home world and dropped into this one without a moment's notice and so much shit has happened. How you're holding it together and how your mind hasn't fractured is truly beyond you. Now would be the perfect time to crash out but are you going to? No, absolutely not. You may be a crybaby but you doubt any of the people here would fare much better if they were in your situation.

"Not really, but I can't do anything about it. I'm just happy that you're safe and we're all back together," you deflect since it's much easier than to truly elaborate on the inner workings of your scrambled brain.

"Oh, I'm sorry Traveler. I- I really wish I could do more," the dragon says, gloomy and quietly.

"Kirishima, really, you are already doing more. You've taken care of me and now you're promising to take me to the most dangerous parts of your world just to get me back home. That's more than enough," you urge, turning to your companion and laying a hand on his knee.

His wings flutter at the contact and his tail swishes in the air. Huh, like a cat. He inches his hand forward and links your index fingers together. You smile at him and he does too, a look so tender on his face that it bares all his emotions.

Your eyes trail up and you chuckle in disbelief. The flower crown you made from before is back on his head, his red strands now entangled in the leaves and petals. He looks up, as if he can see it himself, and smiles.

"I like it, I think it's pretty," he comments, gently touching the crown.

"Keep it, it looks good on you." You freeze and your mouth drops open. Now why the hell did you just say that? Goddamn, you gotta watch your mouth or you'll say something really embarrassing. You avert your eyes and stare at the little bug crawling on the nearby flower, pretending to be intrigued by its little legs and iridescent sheen.

He doesn't respond but the flaring pink on his cheeks burns so hot, he thinks his flames are outmatched. He clears his throat and looks to the blushing pink sky instead. You're so kind sometimes that it hurts and his heart squeezes. Don't entertain that thought, Eijirou, don't do it. He turns his head to look behind him, seeing his other companion slicing and dicing the meat to throw in the pot.

As if he can feel another's eyes, Katsuki snaps his head up and catches Eijirou, narrowing irises in suspicion. The barbarian immediately clocks the blush on his dragon and scoffs. Gods, what the hell did you do this time to warrant such a reaction? He pans his red eyes over to you and you look just about the same, embarrassed and awkward.

"Oi! Get your asses over here if you want to eat tonight!" He yells, taking the inedible bits of the beast and chucking them into the flames. Don't want to attract any predators with the scent of blood and meat.

You and Kirishima stand up and reluctantly leave the flower patch. There's a bit more distance between you two as you walk but you firmly ignore it. Nope, not gonna think about it. You plop down on the laid out bedroll and criss cross your legs, cheeks squishing from your hands cradling your face.

"It smells good," you comment with a faraway look.

Bakugou looks to you and assesses your face. He knows that look, that wistful tightness to your eyes and regretful frown. You're homesick, and maybe just now you're realizing just how long it will take for you to get home.

"I can't wait to eat, it smells delicious," Kirishima breaks your inattentive stare into the fire with his ever-present appetite. You smile at him and nod, agreeing with him.

"Be patient, you brats. Good cooking takes time," Bakugou snaps, leaning back on his bedroll for a moment.

His necklaces catch the flickering light on his pale chest and draws your attention. They look so pretty. You think back to when you had first asked him about them. How he's earned them, each one carrying a different significance than the other. Battling a griffin, bones of his first horse, you can only imagine what the other two represent. You can almost feel the jewels and trinkets in your fingers, cool and smooth like they're polished. That was the only time Bakugou was...nice is a strong word in this case, but definitely civil with you. You held onto that memory with all your might when you were separated.

Dinner is consumed in silence and once the moon crests in the sky, the fire is put out and bodies lay flat. You huddle up to Kirishima, the gentle purring in his chest a lullaby most nights...but not tonight. You lay there, warm under the dragon's wing, and think. You think and think and think, and come to one conclusion: you need to lock in.

You need to get better with your sword and bow, you need to get better at watching out for yourself. You need to be strong. You refuse to be deadweight on this journey and you're gonna prove it. You gingerly peel the wing draping over you and stand up, tiptoeing to your new weapon and picking it up.

You go back over to the designated target tree and rack your arrow, forcing your shoulders back and chest forward like Bakugou showed you. It's hard to see the bullseye in the dark but you see it well enough, and you release. A swift shk, and the arrow hits, dead center and unwavering. You want to jump for joy and laugh but you hold back, resulting in you silently jumping and pumping your fists. Ok, alright, that was great, now do it again.

The sound of arrows firing doesn't seem to wake your companions so you continue, willing the motion to become muscle memory. It has to work, it must. You need to protect yourself and your companions, no matter how much they insist they can take care of themselves. They're taking a huge risk by traveling with you and you'll be damned if anything happens to them.

An hour or two pass, you're not too sure, but your arms and upper back are tight and quivering. You set the bow down in the grass and lay down yourself, heaving a bit from your continued exertion. You feel...strange. You never knew you had it in you but here you are, accomplishing shit and learning a new skill. It feels good to know that you can do it, that you're not a lost cause. You close your eyes and smile lightly. You can do this. You've always could.

Red eyes study you from behind wisps of blond. You woke him up as soon as you shot your first arrow tonight but he kept up the ruse, pretending to be asleep. Truthfully, he didn't think you were gonna practice in the dead of night. It's not like you're a natural at archery but from the few moments he risked to open his eyes, you're definitely catching on. He's impressed at your improvement but he'll keep that to himself. He watches your chest rise and fall with each breath and your fingers twitch on your stomach.

You sit up and bring your knees to your chest, resting your chin on your thighs. Arms wrap around your shins and he hears you sigh. He narrows his eyes. You stare at the moon for a while before you move again. You stand back up and gather your things, placing them at the head of the bedroll you share. He watches you lay down by his dragon, and you gently bring the large wing over your body. Kirishima shifts in his sleep and unknowingly nuzzles his nose in your hair. Bakugou almost scoffs out loud but he bites his tongue. You two are always so damn touchy. You weasel your way into the dragon's chest and a strong arm pulls you in. You sigh again and cease all movement.

Bakugou knows he's not your favorite, Hell, he's not anyone's favorite but the twinge of...whatever it is he feels is unpleasant. Of course you fall asleep instantly in the arms of the dragon, why wouldn't you? The blond rolls his eyes and flips over, unwilling to bear the sight of you cuddling up with the redhead. He knows you don't deserve his cruelty or insults, but anger and pride are the only things he's allowed himself to feel all these years. You change things, you mix it up and turn it upside down and it's anxiety-inducing. Bakugou does not like anxiety.

With a final huff, he shuts his eyes and pulls his cape closer, hating the smirk on his face when he smells your soap in the fabric.

"Hi again, Midoriya," Kirishima greets cheerfully, "we uh...oh man, do we have a story to tell you."

Midoriya's green eyes flit between Bakugou, Kirishima, and you, a curious glint in them. To you and your modern brain, he's dressed like he's going to the Renaissance Faire but obviously...this is not the Renaissance time period. He's got a beige undershirt on and a brown vest, along with brown pants and worn boots. Ink stains his fingertips and his curls are unruly, like he's run his fingers through too many times.

"Our friend here needs our help, and I think you might be our only chance," Kirishima admits, lightly placing his hand on your shoulder.

Kirishima's touch knocks you out of your spiraling thoughts and you focus on the alchemist. You politely smile and nod your head at the new person and he does the same.

"Of course I'll help you! Just let me know what you need!" He agrees enthusiastically, smile gracing his face.

"We need this book translated," the dragon starts then turns to you. "Here, show it to him, Traveler!"

You wrangle your borrowed rucksack to the front and fetch the fragile book, carefully handing it off to the alchemist's awaiting hands. Midoriya receives the item and he flips open the cover, slowly scanning the text on the following pages. He doesn't speak for a while but his expression grows more and more tense as time passes. The pages flip and his fingers begin to tremble.

The scholar is at a loss for words. "Uh... oh I...oh dear...This isn't, this isn't good," he mumbles to himself and he continues his reading.

Bakugou's face steels itself to indifference but you saw the fleeting tightness in his mouth and the widening of his eyes. He might have even gone a bit pale but you're not too sure. Deku's large fireplace casts a warm glow to the barbarian and the surrounding area and you feel the exhaustion weigh down your bones.

Deku brings the tome to his work table at the other side of the room and sets it down, hands bracing each side and he hangs his head over it.

"So...at first glance I can tell this might be a bit of a problem." Deku is hesitant in his speech. Worry, and maybe even fear, tints his tone.

"Well? If you know what it is, just spit it out already," Bakugou growls, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His orange arm guards bring attention to the strange necklaces that cascade down, multiple colors and various trinkets on them. You'll have to ask about them later.

"Bakugou," Kirishima interrupts with a slight whine, "be a little patient. I think we should explain the situation from the beginning. It's kind of a lot. So here Traveler, just tell him what happened."

You take a deep breath and brace yourself. It's still hard to wrap your brain around what happened but you need to pull it together. This could be life or death.

"I don't come from here. I'm not from this world," you begin, fiddling with your fingers nervously. You spare a glance to Bakugou and he's wearing that disbelieving scowl like he did when you shared your story the first time.

"In my world, I was visiting the library to find a book I needed for class and I found the tome. I opened it, and I didn't recognize the language but I kept going through it until I came upon the red gemstone."

Deku reaches down and holds up the bedazzling jewel, you nod in confirmation. "Yeah, that one right there. It was embedded in the pages. I'm not sure what happened exactly but the gem glowed. It got brighter and brighter and I was getting super freaked out but then everything went white!"

Deku's brows raise up, mouth parting in shock. He leans his hip against the table and leans in, eager to hear every bit of information.

"I tried to call for help but then I was...floating. No...maybe flying. All I know is that I was holding the gem one minute, then I was falling from the sky the next and I went lights out. I hit my head pretty good on the landing but I'm still not sure just how I survived a fall from that height. It's...not a coincidence that I'm still alive."

Deku nods at your conclusion and he brings a hand to his chin, tilting his head and deep in thought. You watch his green eyes bounce around, not settling on one particular spot. He's wracking his brain for any logical explanation but...there doesn't seem to be one. He's mumbling to himself, eyes occasionally glancing back to you.

"I'm not sure if I would have woken up if Kirishima didn't find me in that field. He shook me awake and brought me to his camp with Bakugou," you add on, sending a hesitant smile to the crimson haired man. He flashes his own toothy grin right back at you.

There's a beat of silence, only the rain hitting the windows and thunder rumbling as your white noise. Midoriya clears his throat and turns to you.

"So...you're saying that you got transported here from an entirely different world?" Deku questions, connecting the dots in his head.

--

Hours fly by and the rain continues to fall. The booming of the thunder and flashes of lightning are foreboding. Today was shit and it's ending off on a shitty note from Mother Nature. At least you have a roof over your head and a warm fireplace to curl up in front of.

Midoriya has been hunched over the tome for the entire time, occasionally pausing to go to his study to grab another book that he requires to aid in his translation. Ancient Draconic is a language that's been lost to dragonkind for nearly a millennia and that makes everything all the more difficult already. It's a shame Kirishima didn't possess the ability to read it but Midoriya put his head back to the books and kept working.

You learned that Bakugou is a Dragon Soul, not quite human but...mostly human. He's more magically adept and has some traits of the dragonkind but otherwise is human. He insists he isn't but you wave him off anyway. You sit cross-legged on the floor, three feet from the roaring fire and you sip on the tea Midoriya had so generously put on for you all. Its taste reminds you of a jasmine tea...maybe a hint of green as well. It's pleasant and a welcome reprieve from the chaos that is now your life.

Bakugou sits in the armchair, legs thrown over one side and neck resting on the other armrest. His arms are still crossed and his face is still scowling, but it's softer now. He must be feeling just as tired as you are. Kirishima keeps you company by sitting right beside you, sipping on his own cup of tea. His red claws click softly against the porcelain and just how the hell does he function with those claws?! Have they always been like that? They must have. To be fair, your brain has had to do a lot of processing and it's overloaded with information right now. You have a bit of a headache and it's not from your disastrous descent from the heavens.

Midoriya had broke the news that your quest would take you to the Straihorn Mountains and you only get one year to do it. You miss your chance, say bye-bye to Earth-1 forever. The real kicker was that the journey there would take about a year so you had to haul ass if you wanted to get home. You know you won't live another 500 years until the stars align again so you had to be there, you had to be on time.

The utter devastation and helplessness you felt had driven you to tears again and Kirishima had taken the time to comfort you. He pulled you into his strong arms and stroked your back, shushing and cooing into your hair. His warmth, his kindness, his Gods-damned bleeding heart was a cool salve on your aching chest. You silently prayed to whatever the hell is out there that Kirishima would not be taken away from you during your journey, knowing just how quickly you're getting attached to him.

Kirishima has rolled out his bedroll like he had the night before and laid down on his side. You lay next to him, already happy with how natural it feels when he drapes his wing over you. It's not a fleece blanket but it'll do. The dying embers in the fireplace flicker and yet you find no rest.

You toss and turn, and turn again. Thoughts jumble and scramble and you can't find peace in yourself. Your eyelids sit so heavy but your heart still pounds like you ran a mile, anxiety robbing you of sleep in the most cruel way. Your mind conjures countless scenarios, ones where you die, where Kirishima dies, where Bakugou dies, where you all die...maybe even once or twice you entertained the thought the duo will abandon you part way through. You shake your head and pinch your arm at every nasty thought, but it doesn't keep them away.

You're sure your movements keep your companions awake but you can't help it. You didn't ask for any of this, you just wanted to get an A on your midterm exam and now that's gone to shit. You're all cried out, your eyes sting but no tears flow, thoroughly drained of all methods of expressing your fear and grief. Just what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

--

Katsuki grunts and furrows his brows, crimson eyes squinting open. A roof, uneven terrain, wooden wheels creaking, and the Gods-damned sway of the prison wagon that churns his stomach. He grits his teeth and forces himself to sit up, back against the wooden siding. His wrists, bound by thick rope, are welting red and raw and he hisses at the sharp sting of the material biting into his skin. He huffs and he twists his hands, attempting to access his magic but it doesn't work.

"Gotta be fuckin'....ugh!" he mutters to himself and narrows his eyes. There has to be something in the immediate vicinity that can undo the tight knots or get him out of this confinement. He flits his irises around and notices a porthole to the driver's seat outside the wagon. The sky is dark but not quite nighttime yet, perhaps it's twilight. The usually serene time of day is tainted by this unfortunate predicament and his eyes finally find your crumpled form.

The heaviness of the magical seal on the skin of his back is incomparable to the sight of you. You're bruised, bloodied, and knocked the fuck out. Your wrists are bound like Katsuki's and your neck is crooked at such an uncomfortable angle that he tsk's and scrunches his nose. He has no idea how long he's been out but he gathers that it must have been at least a day. It was fully night when you both got abducted and he's sure that you were drugged. Or perhaps a powerful sleeping draught was employed. His affinity for magic has allowed the effects to wear off already but you...you're an outsider.

Magic doesn't exist in your world so it would make sense for whatever they forced on you to work a little too well. Not the neighing of the war horses, the boisterous laughter of the bandits, or even the rocking of the wagon wakes you. He frowns and attempts his magic again but to no avail and he growls in frustration. Never, ever, has Bakugou Katsuki never been able to get himself out of trouble but this is looking pretty damn bleak. He's sure he could find a way to escape, as long as it was without you, but no. He can't do that. Kirishima would have his head and honestly, your annoying ass has started to grow on him.

Your gentle touches on his necklaces and curiosity of his past are foreign to him. Nobody really takes the time to get to know him, not for serious. Most people know just enough to get by, to not disrespect him when making trade deals or traveling through his land. He's not sure how to feel about it, but the warm fluttering in his chest makes him think that you're dangerous. You're dangerous because Kirishima has taken such a liking to you and you are absolutely eating up the attention. You're dangerous because your kindness astounds him when he would have beheaded whoever the fuck dared to sell his precious shit. He's undeserving of your forgiveness, your companionship, and he swallows at the implication.

The wagon is brought to a stop and he tunes his ears to the chatter outside. He barely catches the words that are exchanged but it's nothing promising. Something about 'finding the damn jewel' and 'keeping the boss happy' and some other nonsense. You stir and his eyes trail back to you, catching the hint of distress in your face. You must be dreaming...and it must be unpleasant.

He rolls his tongue in his mouth and he shakes his head. He scoots himself closer to you and gingerly lifts your weirdly-bent neck to rest on his thigh. Your cheek presses into the coarse fabric of his pants and he sighs, leaning his head back on the wall. An impulsive thought worms its way to the forefront of his mind and he huffs at himself. Your hair looks so soft, even if it's a fucking mess from literally getting kidnapped. The bath you all took after leaving Ambermore certainly helped with the faint shine it now possesses.

Just once, just a quick touch. He inches his bound hands towards your strands and he fiddles with a lock between his fingers. It is soft, and smooth, the texture tickling his nerve endings. It's nothing like Kirishima's mane, the dragon's hair being thick and pin straight. He's braided the crimson's hair before, especially during the winter months when he lets it grow long. He wonders what your hair braided would look like. Perhaps a Delalin twist, or even a Vihar braid, would look excellent with your color and length. Katsuki stares into space and realizes just what the fuck he let his mind do. He can't play house with you, you're an outsider...and that's all you'll be. He has to get his head in the Gods-damned game but the game has changed now, hasn't it?

You've both been abducted, possessions taken, and Kirishima is nowhere to be found. This journey to get you home has become much more deadly than anticipated and he thinks. Thinks that it might not be worth it, that it would cause too much trouble to drag your ass to the ends of Solterra just to drop you off somewhere. There's no guarantee that you'll make it there, or even survive the journey home. You fell from the sky once, who's to say you won't do it again and stay down forever?

Katsuki closes his eyes and relinquishes his hold on your lock of hair, heart hardening for every minute that passes in silence. He's not sure how long you'll stay asleep but he's not hopeful. If you make it out of this alive, he's sure Kirishima will do anything to keep you in his sights and never let you go. Dragons practically bind their souls to those they hold close and the crimson is scarily close to that point.

There's nothing that he can do, and he fucking hates it.

You, the ever enigmatic senpai that schooled his classmates two years ago when they were introduced to work studies. You, the strongest in the school, who went on to be the hero that's rising fast in ranks like Hawks did. You, who decided to humor Principal Nezu, and took time off from being a Hero to teach an accelerated course at UA. You, who remembers all the faces of 1-A, besides one.

The friendship between Katsuki and Izuku has taken its nose dives and flew soaring heights over the years, finally plateauing comfortably near the end of their third-year. Just a few more weeks then they will be let loose, allowed to pursue their dream full time. Katsuki is frothing at the mouth to work as a Hero and when he heard that you will be hosting a special class? Oh honey, all bets are off the table, he's practically shoving people out of the way to be the first on the sign-up sheet. Izuku shares in his excitement with a stutter and they geek out over what material you could be covering over the next 6 weeks.

You take the time to do roll call when you start your first day. Nearly all of 3-A has signed up, your lesson from two years ago seemingly having made an impact. Katsuki's eye twitches when you call Izuku's name, an apparent sweetness coloring your tone, and he doesn't miss the way his friend gulps and blushes when your eyes meet. What the fuck?!

Katsuki knows better now, knows when to be loud and confrontational and when to reserve his questions to a more private time but fuck...is he itching to figure out why he witnessed that interaction and why it bothers him so much. He's quietly seething in his chair until you call his name and his breathing stops.

His crimson eyes lock with yours and damn...he didn't even notice you walk right up to his desk. Your irises are magnetic and he finds himself at a loss for words. He heard from his classmates about that day...about how you kicked all those extras' asses and did it without breaking a sweat or your composure. Izuku revealed to him later on, that during the war, you were the one to haul Katsuki's ass up after he collapsed. He never even knew that and you've held space in his mind as his savior, his last hope ever since. It takes everything in Katsuki's body to not fanboy and mumble like Izuku in your presence.

You had personally introduced yourself to him, quickly giving your name and Quirk and a thank you for taking your class. He barely nodded in acknowledgment and you went back to the podium, grabbing a whiteboard marker and beginning your lecture. He couldn't think straight all day after your class ended. Having your class first thing in the morning turned out to be a mistake. He had hoped that he could catch you during lunch, maybe get an autograph from you, but you were firmly locked in conversation with Aizawa. Katsuki knew better than to interrupt, it won't serve him any good, so he furrowed his brows and chugged along in the rest of his classes.

The final bell rang and he loitered outside his homeroom, hands tucked in his pockets and distractedly nodding along in conversation with the Bakusquad. Maybe he'd get a quick glance if you walked out on your way home. Is that creepy? Probably, but that's as far as he'd go. Not like Mineta. Mineta's comments of your Hero suit and business professional outfits were grating on his ears all day but even he recognized the truth in them. You looked fuckin' delicious and it infuriates him to admit that. You're more than a pretty face with a strong body; you're an intelligent individual with a tenacity like no other and he respects that about you. He's so lost in his thoughts that he didn't register Kirishima tapping his shoulder until you snapped your fingers in his face.

He jerked back and nearly punched you in the face but you caught his wrist easily, letting go when you recognize that look of sheepish guilt on his stoic face. You join the students for a quick chat, indulging them in their questions and theories. One by one, Katsuki's friends leave until it's just you two and you offer to spar with him. You might as well take this chance to put the boy to the test since you didn't get to before. He takes you up on your offer instantly and you agree to meet at the gym.

God, he's shaking in his boots from nerves and he has to force himself to take deep breaths and ground himself. His physical therapy has been going well and he'll be damned if he overexerts himself not being careful. He flexes his fingers and twists his right arm, the muscles feeling tighter than the other arm but it's to be expected. His gauntlets are modified, now more lightweight, and easier on his recovery. He hears your footsteps and he turns and clenches his jaw. Mineta was right, you are a bombshell in that suit.

Your suit panels outline your curves and trace the lines of your muscles, fully covering nearly every inch of your skin aside from your neck and face. You teasingly wiggle your fingers in his direction to greet him and he huffs at you, wanting you to take him seriously. He's about to graduate from Hero school, show him some respect! He knows that he's not some wet-behind-the-ears kouhai but you make him nervous. He's studied you these past two years, learned your moves and intentions. He's confident that he'll have a decent chance against you. Until he doesn't.

He blasts off a few explosions, the smoke hindering both your sights but he knows where you are. He's shooting himself directly towards you and...you sidestep? He's aware of you dodging his attack but he did not expect to be yanked backwards by his hair, flipped over, and shoved face-first into the concrete. You wrangle his wrists behind his back and plant a knee on his nape, the pressure limiting his air flow. And just why in the goddamn fuck is he so damn hard in his suit?! There's nothing sexy about being taken down so quickly...unless it's by you of course. Remember, he's idolized you for quite some time now. He may not look it but he wouldn't hate it if you roughed him up. He likes power, and likes that yours is unbridled and at 100%.

"Aww, you look so cute like this. It reminds me of when I took down your friend Izuku back then," you mock, voice sugary and seductive in his ear. He smells like caramel, perhaps an effect of the nitroglycerin-like substance.

Katsuki growls and thrashes and a painful twinge in his arm forces him to freeze. You let go and you give him space, helping him back onto his feet with a strong hand bracing his good arm.

"You did great! It's not easy going up against me and you didn't try to give me time to think. That's excellent. You'll do great in the future." You compliment him, being sincere in your words. He truly is a remarkable student but his injury gives you pause. Just how badly was he hurt that it's still affecting him today?

He silently preens, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling but the pink on his ears give him away. "You never made it easy for anyone else so why should I? You're not the best at what you do because you have shitty, half-baked plans. I bet you already knew what you were gonna do before you even stepped foot in the gym."

You laugh but you don't deny his statement and urge him to exit the building. You escort him to Recovery Girl and stay with him until he's properly examined and healed by her. You part ways after saying goodnight to each other and Katsuki's mind reels on his way back to the dorms.

Your hands on him, your Hero suit, your encouragement, your teasing...every single time you had your attention on him was like catching lightning in a bottle. One of his favorite Heroes gave him the time of day and actually challenged him to spar! He muffles his light laugh in his pillow and he actually is in disbelief. He flips over on his bed, looking to his desk and narrows his eyes on a folded piece of paper lodged in a book.

He gets up and pulls the paper free, the dim moonlight filtering through his dorm room balcony. He undoes the folds and chokes on his spit. 'Heard from a little bunny that you're a big fan of mine. Call me if you need a job. XXX-XXX-XXXX'

His hands shake and his dilated pupils trace the words over and over again and they bounce between your stylized signature at the bottom of the paper and the dark red lipstick mark. He's almost hyperventilating and he sets the paper down, willing his heart to calm down. Your perfume, your own line in collaboration with your favorite brand, is spritzed on and the smell wafts to his nose and he huffs. He's so weak for you, and in said moment of weakness, he can't help but lift the paper up again and press it to his nose. His eyes roll back and he swallows a throaty groan. This is so inappropriate, he should not be thinking of you in that way, should not be entertaining any possible hidden meanings in your note but he can't help it.

He collapses back in bed and he lets his head fall back on the soft pillow. You wore that perfume today, he remembers, your scent following after you whenever you moved. You were so close to him, pressing his body into the ground without fear and taunted him. You're strong as fuck and you knew it and you used it.

He can't help it when he lets his hand drift beneath his sweatpants and he hisses. He practically conjures you in his mind's eye, you in your suit and your glossy lips smashing against his like you smashed his head into the concrete earlier today. He can see it, he can see how your body would move, how it would respond, how it could force him to do things he normally wouldn't.

In this moment of weakness, he can't help but to indulge his thoughts in you, your body, your strength, and he surprises himself just how quickly he can go again. It hurts, his dominant arm although mostly recovered is starting to cramp and he grunts in frustration. Just one more, just you at a different angle, just your tongue licking his neck and he smothers himself with his pillow to not alert his dorm mates.

He's heaving, sweat on his forehead and chest and he grits his teeth in shame. God, what would you think of him if you knew? He's your biggest fan and now he's just proving he's no different than those extras that vie for your attention on the street. But what if you...no, no, no. Stop that! Can't...think like that. Shouldn't.

He can't help it when the next day of class he averts his eyes and keeps his voice low. You smirk at him like you know, and he's almost sure that yes, you do know what he did...and you're acting smug as fuck about it. He can't help that it's all over his face that he's got the hots for you, as most of the student body does but maybe he'll have the balls to do something about it. He did save your number, after all.

You open your eyes and you're back home. Your normal, ordinary, not at all supernatural life. No dragons, no cape-wearing barbarians, and certainly no glowing gems that transport you to parallel universes. You are at campus, just finished your language arts course and heading to the math and science building for your lame ass statistics class. You're studying ancient history, why the hell do you need statistics, do you ask? Who the hell knows, just that it was required for you to graduate.

You trek the familiar path to the worn brick structure, its height more imposing than usual. Hmm, it only has three floors but why does it look like there are seven? You shake your head and adjust your book bag, thinking you must have not slept well to be hallucinating things. You look around and notice that the flowers that usually blanket the courtyard are looking quite... subdued. The color of the petals dipped in greywash, not nearly as vibrant as they should be.

You look up and note the clouds in the sky. Perhaps the obstructed sunlight is causing the strange coolness to the technicolor of your world. While distracted, an arm wraps around your shoulder and you are pleasantly surprised to see your friend by your side. Wait, did she get out of class early? You smile and greet her, flicking your wrist up to check your watch.

Blood drains from your face when all the numbers are jumbled and clock hands run counterclockwise. What the hell is going on?! You turn to your friend again and rip your body from hers when her face is blank, no facial features to be found. You swear that you saw her joyful smile and crinkled eyes just a second ago. Her nonexistent eye sockets bore into you and you scream, hands clutching your hair in terror and confusion. Why is this happening?

You whip your head around to check your surroundings again and you drop to your knees in resignation. All other students are faceless, even the landscaper you normally greet on Tuesday mornings is also a blank canvas. Why are you forgetting what they look like? What they sound like? How your life felt to you?

A black hole opens under your crumpled form and you succumb to the inky blackness. Is this dying? Is this what death brings? Your last happy moments wiped clean like blood from a porcelain sink and you are left with a gaping hole in your chest. You can't breathe, the void closes in. You can't breathe, the oppressive darkness choking you. You can't breathe, the absence of light and warmth chilling you to your soul. You can't breath, can't breathe, can't breathe...

Your eyes fly open and you heave, hand on your chest in fear. Your heart beats wildly under your sternum and blood rushes in your ears, sympathetic nervous system sending jumbled signals to your muscles.

That's right...you're not at home anymore. Haven't been for the last few hours now. The cool night breeze dries the cold sweat on your temple and ruffles your shirt. Your heart slows and breaths even, pupils dilating to allow in the sliver of moonlight. It's in the waxing phase, a new moon coming soon assuming the moon here works the same as back home.

You look to the sky and feel even more alone. No familiar constellations are seen, no North Star to gain your bearings. You are truly out of your depth here, an alien in a place that is so similar and yet so absurd, you must be on some strong fuckin' drugs.

Your throat tightens and you bite your tongue, distracting the hoarse cry begging to break through with the pain. No more crying, you already did enough of that when you were brought to this camp. The dragon shifter laying next to you, Kirishima, purrs lowly like a content cat. His arm and wing cover your body, his chest pressing against your shoulder. You must have flipped to your back at some point during your nightmare. You turn your head to look at him, and you are still in awe.

You never would have thought you would be transported to a world that inhabits all the fantasy creatures you've read about. His looks as a dragon shifter are not what you imagined but it's not like those authors had anything to base it off. His red horns swoop back from his forehead and the scales that litter his cheeks, neck, and shoulders glitter in the silver night glow.

You had noticed earlier, when you awoke in that field, that all his teeth were sharp and serrated, a bit of a terrifying sight to be honest. His body radiates heat, a furnace in the shape, mostly, of a human. You welcome the warmth from him, the gentle wind actually cool tonight. His wing, leathery and large, almost cradles you into him. The talon at the next connecting joint is just past your opposite shoulder. He took care that the sharp end would not hurt you when he first draped it over you. The scales on his wings are different from the ones that dot his skin, they're completely different textures. You have half a mind to touch them but think better of it. He's not a toy for you to poke and prod, he's a person...sort of.

You tear your gaze away from the kind stranger and look across from you, view partially obscured by the extinguished fire pit. There lays Bakugou, the brash barbarian who made it clear that your existence doesn't matter to him and in fact, is a hindrance to his journey. He damn near beheaded you when Kirishima carried you back. You'll have to thank Kirishima, practically owing your life to the half-man if it weren't for his placating words.

Without realizing, you're scowling at the blond, jaw clenching tightly. Who the fuck does he think he is? You're hurt, lost, and quite possible high out of your mind if you've conjured up such a wild universe. You're confident you're not tripping balls but how else can everything be explained?! You just hope that when he wakes he won't be such an asshole to you. Is it likely? No, but you can dream. He's even an asshole to his companion and you wonder just how in the fuck Kirishima hasn't torn the guy's head off or straight up made him burnt toast.

You huff and relax your face. There's no use getting worked up over something that hasn't happened. Tomorrow's worries are enough, don't backpack more onto your shoulders. You ponder how the morning will go. Will they give you something to eat? Will Bakugou decide you're not worth the trouble and leave you to be eaten by wild animals? Maybe he'll be merciful and give you a quick death, sword to the heart. Kirishima seems pretty intent on getting you help but the barbarian is in charge here, that much you are sure of.

You sigh and turn to your side, facing the fire pit and giving the dragon your back. You must admit, sleeping outside is not as bad as it seems but you do miss your plushies. You curl your arms into your chest but it's not the same. The body behind you shifts and you freeze. Still off in dreamland, Kirishima brings his arm around you tighter, wing completely encasing you. His forearm wiggles its way to your chest and his loose fist rests right under your chin. What the fuck? How the fuck did his arm nuzzle its way to your body like you would hold your plushie?

That familiar sting arrives at your eyes and you press your lips together. God, no more crying, you already decided that but the tender, unconscious action just brings you more grief. You hug his arm to you and let the tears fall.

God, you miss home. You want to go home.

My Hero Academia

Izuku Midoriya

He Can't Help It - non-descriptive but implied sexual content In which the adorable freckle-faced Hero-in-training has a serious hard-on for you, his third-year, overpowered senpai.

The Moments In Between - nsfw, smut, fluff, UA teacher!Izuku The ways in which Izuku Midoriya demonstrates his love for you and how you reciprocate.

Your Type - nsfw, fluff, 3rd-year!Izuku Someone spills the beans about you and Izuku being perfect for each other and one thing leads to the next, you on his lap and his lips on yours.

Katsuki Bakugou

Snapshot - Yuzuya Fantasy Series inspired Pt.1, Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 The unseen moments between Katuski, Eijirou, and You, their dear Traveler.

He Can't Help It - non-descriptive but implied sexual content In which the explosive blond third-year gets hot and bothered when you, his former senpai, guest teaches in his last few weeks of school.

Eijirou Kirishima

Snapshot - Yuzuya Fantasy Series inspired Pt.1, Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 The unseen moments between Katsuki, Eijirou, and You, their dear Traveler.

Pending...

I will try to update as quickly as I can when I post a new work but ya girl is busy af. Please bear with me as I continue writing and improving! <3

loverboy!Izuku who just loves it when you boss him around. Of course, you only treat him with respect but when it hints to something more, it gets him going. You demand that he wears his green tie to work instead of his All Might tie? Say less, babe, he hands the fabric to you and lets you tie it around his neck (he doesn't comment on how you make it just a little too tight). He smiles at you, compliments your quick thinking on stylizing his work attire, and leaves it there. Any further and he'll only hope you pull him back from the threshold by said tie.

loverboy!Izuku who trembles from your morning voice, your breath grazing the shell of his ear. His scarred hands choose to grip the blanket tangling around you both instead of your soft flesh, knowing just how easily he can bruise you if he's not careful. He plays off his desire for you with a weak chuckle and a nose boop to your temple but God, he's replaying the moment when you slip out of bed naked and give him a show.

loverboy!Izuku who loves it when you take charge, when you know exactly what you want, how you want it, and how you expect him to give it to you. He pants and shakes when you greet him upon returning home with a silky robe and a riding crop in your dominant hand. He gulps harshly, green doe eyes zeroing in on the dangerously low parting of the fabric, the slight shimmering of your body lotion catching the light.

loverboy!sub!Izuku who flings his jacket, shoes, and work bag off to the side, grading papers be damned when you stand there demanding every ounce of his attention. He assumes his position, kneeling with his hands upturned on his thighs and eyes diverting to your feet. You're wearing that fucking anklet, the one with his initials dangling from the flimsy chain, and he takes a shaky breath to calm his body. You haven't even done anything yet and he's almost ready to burst.

loverboy!sub!Izuku who tries so hard to be good, to be a good boy for you, and keeps his eyes lowered on that anklet, watching the metal glint for every step you take toward him. You stop just before him, pressing the small leather flap on the end of the riding crop right onto the tent in his slacks. He sucks in a breath and grits his teeth, but he doesn't dare move. Oh no, he won't move, even when his brain screams at him to beg and grovel before your feet for anything more than the slight pressure on his swelling cock.

loverboy!sub!Izuku who almost cries when your free hand cups his chin and angles his head up, but you still haven't given permission yet. His neck bends a little too much, but his eyes stay low, now noticing the twinkling glitter on your partially exposed chest. You must have used that one lotion, the vanilla one, that's the only one he knows of that has glitter particles in it. You don't use it often but the sparkle suits you. You sparkled nonetheless in his eyes.

loverboy!sub!Izuku who whimpers when he hears you say "look at me, baby." His eyes, the ever brilliant emerald, are rimmed red but his pupils dilate comically large when he sees your face. You've accentuated your features tonight, now a bit sharper, a bit intimidating, a bit...predatory. Izuku loves being your prey, as proven from the bunny ear headband and fluffy tail tucked safely away in your 'treasure chest.'

loverboy!sub!Izuku who listens attentively to your voice, carving every word into his tendons. He will make for damn sure that you are satisfied tonight.

"Izu, honey, you're always so good for me, aren't you?"

"Yes Mistress, always," he gasps out, eyes fluttering when your hand on his chin travels to his messy curls.

"Mmm good," you hum, gently combing through the small tangles in his hair. He shuts his eyes at your ministrations, tense body relaxing in your hold like it always does.

Your hand leaves his hair and he almost whines, but no, Mistress doesn't like whiners so he keeps his mouth shut. His eyes however show his desperation. Eyebrows scrunch up and lips downturning a bit and you coo at him.

"Come along, pet. You know how," you order, turning away from him and sauntering off down the dim hallway.

Izuku swallows, mouth so dry he needs you to hydrate him, and he crawls, like how you trained him. He follows your steps and in you go to your shared bedroom. You've lit a few candles, the small light sources scattered on your nightstand, dresser, and window sill. Izuku smiles gently at the cozy, intimate atmosphere before resuming his task; servicing you.

You plop onto the edge of the bed, riding crop snapping at the empty space by your feet to summon your good boy. Izuku makes his way to the spot indicated and returns to his position again, waiting for your next instruction. You run the flexible end of your crop along his clothed cock, relishing in the hiss he emits from his lips.

"Off." That one word triggers a response like a sleeper agent and he begins to strip. He loosens his tie, the green one you adore, and is ready to toss it to the side before you bring out your hand. He obediently lays it in your palm and unbuttons his shirt next. The white fabric drops behind him and he puts his hands on his thighs, not sure if you want any more off.

Your eyes narrow at him and you flick the crop at his inner thighs, the smack eliciting a yelp. "Did I tell you stop?"

"N-no Mistress. You haven't given me permission to stand so I couldn't continue undressing," he explains quietly, fingers itching to rub at the welts forming under his pants.

You flick at the same spot again, a higher pitched yelp this time. "You playin' smart with me, pet? Think it's smart to assume what I do or don't want you to do?" Your tone bites at his heart, and he knows it's all for the scene, and he only hopes it will bring a big payoff. It's been a while since you've donned the Mistress.

"No Mistress. I'm sorry for assuming. I won't do it again." He plays his voice off to be meek but he's vibrating on the inside. He's so excited to see what you do next, even if he winds up racking up punishments.

You scoff at him and flick him a third time, this one higher up, the leather nearly grazing the tenting. He chokes back a moan but it's so hard when he's enjoying everything you do to him. He always does. "Just for that attitude, you're keeping your pants on. I don't want disobedient cock near me."

"Yes Mistress," he confirms, hanging his head low.

"Color, darling?" You check in, raising his chin to meet your gaze. Your eyes are so warm when they look into his like that.

"Green," he breathes out, "so fucking green." He's so drunk on your power and elegance, he's nearly drooling.

You smile. "Excellent." And back you go to your cold gaze and he bows his head.

"Bring your hands up," you say, placing your crop to the side and smoothing out the satin green tie.

He obeys, already pressing his wrists together to make it easier for you. You expertly wrap the fabric around, slipping two fingers underneath to make sure it won't cut off circulation. You smirk at him and decide to tease him.

"So now you're a good boy huh? Didn't think it took being bound by your own tie to make it happen."

He swallows and feels the heat on his cheeks spread to his ears. He nods to agree with you, hoping it will appease you. You ruffle his hair and scoot closer to the edge of the bed, your knees bracketing his strong shoulders.

Oh God, you're not wearing any panties under that luxurious robe and he barely steals a glance at your soft flesh. His eyes flick to yours and the intensity of your irises burn his skin. You look at him like...you're ready to devour him and it sends such a delicious chill down his spine. Your hands, softened from your favorite hand cream, undo the knot at the front and you slowly, teasingly, slide each sleeve off your shoulder. Izuku's lips part unwillingly but he's breathing so heavily and you turn him on so damn much, it's a wonder he's not asthmatic the way your body arrests all lung movement.

You bare your body to him, the yellow candlelight casting an ethereal glow and he swears you are an angel and a devil altogether. Such beauty and such grace with such a devious smirk and sharp tongue. His eyes can't stay in one place, they roam all over like he's seeing you for the first time. You lean back on your elbows and that bejeweled ankle hooks around his back, bringing him forward into you.

His bound hands reach up and grip the cascading blanket under you, balancing him and keeping him a hair's distance from your core. His tongue lolls out but a moment of clarity hits and he retreats the wet muscle, hoping you didn't catch his near slip-up. You do, of course, nothing slips by you.

"You're so good, you corrected yourself before I could punish you. Such a good pet for me, huh? You're my good boy, Izu." Your praise is music to his ears and he nods earnestly at your words.

"Put that mouth to good use, Izu, and I'll make sure you cum tonight," you promise breathlessly, the sight of the man before you weakening your resolve.

"Yes Mistress," he responds and he gets to work.

He presses his lips to your inner thighs, worshipping the skin and muscle and blemishes and he's in heaven. All his stress and worries evaporate from his mind and he only focuses on you, you, you. He leads his kisses up, up, up, until he reaches your clit. He glances up at you, pride surging through his veins at your half-lidded eyes and slack jaw and he kisses your clit with the utmost reverence and devotion he can summon.

The tip of his tongue flicks at the nub gently, kitten licking one of your favorite spots. Your head drops back and a moan rattles your vocal cords, the noise rousing his cock even more. He encloses his lips and sucks, the pressure catching you off guard and your hips jerk, pubic bone bonking his nose but he doesn't mind. He suckles at it, tasting you and cherishing how you trust him so intimately. He pushes his face forward and your folds touch his chin, your slick gliding down at an impressive rate.

He releases your clit from his lips and he presses more kisses into your soaking folds, pussy drunk on the strings that follow him. His tongue explores, going up and down one side before switching to the other, only to head north and generously rub at your engorged nub again. Your hands snake into his hair and pull, he groans into your flesh and the vibrations are a nice touch. Getting the hint that you want more from him, he pokes at your entrance and a particularly harsh tug at his curls forces him to extend all the way in to you.

You're so wet and aching for him, your walls pulse around his tongue and he's giddy. You always seem to be so happy when he touches you and your body doesn't lie. He presses up, feeling a slightly different texture and he abuses that spot continuously, your increasing louder moans and grunts spurring him on.

"Fuck Izu, you always...do this so well. S' good for me," you mumble, praises dripping off your divine lips and gracing his mortal ears. He whimpers and his hips buck up into nothing, cock straining and leaking uncontrollably.

"Touch yourself baby, touch yourself for me," you say breathlessly, nails scratching at his scalp but you know he doesn't mind. He quite likes it when you're rough with him.

You hear the clink of his belt and the teeth of a zipper undo and his moan of gratitude echoes into your core. His tongue hasn't stopped and now he's licking and sucking with a vengeance that borders obsessive. He loves being on his knees for you, especially when you allow him to drink you up with fervor.

His wrists bound together is not the most comfortable thing but he can't complain when you've given him permission. His hands wrap around his hardened length and he strokes, whining at the rapidly drying precum that scarcely lubricates him.

Your combined noises and shlick-shlick-shlick bounce off the walls and it's home in your little slice of paradise. You approach the cliff edge and you tumble, eyes rolling back and back arching off the mattress, singing into the night of how well you are loved.

Izuku slows his hands and his mouth, teetering close to the edge himself but you come first, you are always his priority. Your hands slacken in his hair and he opens his eyes, entranced at your bliss and relaxation. You take a few deep breaths and you push his head away from your core and he actually whines this time.

You laugh weakly and slowly sit up, chest heaving and legs quaking from your orgasm. "You're so good for me, and good boys deserve rewards. You deserve to cum in me."

Izuku's breath hitches, bound hands halting their pace on his cock. He hates edging himself but he'd do it in a heartbeat for you. You gingerly slide down to the floor and take off his restraints, softly rubbing at the red marks marring his skin. He tears up, lash line overflowing and he sniffles, overcome by your tender care and attention to his wellbeing.

Your eyes dart to his face, clocking the fresh tears trailing down his cheeks. You're alarmed and your hands cradle his face, left thumb brushing over the scar on his right cheek. Did you go too far? Was this too much?

"What's your color, baby? I need to know," you panic, checking for other signs of sub drop.

"Green. Still green, I promise," he croaks and a new batch of tears unleash.

"What's going on, are you alright?" You continue stroking his cheeks, scooting forward on your knees to get closer to him.

"I'm okay...I just love you so much. You always make sure I'm ok and comfortable and it makes me feel really good to be cared for like this," he shakily explains, keeping his eyes on your flushed face.

"Oh baby, of course I do. You're the most important thing in my life, I gotta make sure I take care of you." You bring his face forward and softly kiss his forehead, hoping your affection conveys just how deeply your love runs for the man.

"Let me take care of you, yeah? You deserve it," you rasp out, rising from your knees and sheathing yourself on his hard cock.

He chokes out a moan, hands gripping your waist and head leaning on your shoulder. He's still on his knees and he thinks this is perfect. His submission to you is willing and genuine and he will always hold you up above him, cradling you into his body. You slowly rock your hips, as does he, and his lust boils his blood and singes his nerve endings. He's so in love with you and he will do everything in his power to prove it.

He cums with a whine and heavy breaths, your slick and his cum getting him sticky but he does not give a shit. You are his one and only and he is your ride or die. Your bodies know each other, your emotions tangle like seaweed, and your hearts soar like birds of a feather. You are the shining jewel that bedazzles his smile, the ship that wades through stormy waters. And he would not trade it for anything.

loverboy!Izuku who gets cleaned up with you, soaking in the hot bath and nuzzling his nose into your hair. Incoherent mumbles of his passion and loyalty are whispered into the strands, only for your ears to hear. You wash him with your lavender body wash, loofah incredibly gentle going over all the scars on his arms, your lips sealing each patch of discolored skin with a kiss.

loverboy!Izuku who falls asleep with his head on your chest, arms curled into your waist. Your nails lightly scratch at his scalp and upper back, appreciating his physique delicately. You press kiss after kiss onto his forehead and scarred cheek, vowing to be the peace he deserves after all the hardships he's endured.

----

He's got a massive crush on you, his senpai. His third-year senpai who's legitimately the strongest in all of UA, even being considered to be the founding member of the Big Three but chose to step away from the spotlight. He thinks it's just so hot that you don't give a shit about popularity, only being the best in everything you do. You've proven time and time again that you are the best and God, that gets him going.

He can't help the twitch in his pants when the Big Three members are invited to his homeroom period to explain work studies, that you come waltzing in right after Togata challenges everyone in the class to fight him. Your nonchalance and cool attitude an immediate intrigue to him and the rest of 1-A.

"Togata, don't tease them. If they want to actually be humbled, they should fight me." You grin at your classmate before looking at the fresh faces before you.

"Ahh c'mon now...you'd barely leave them alive if you did," Togata jokes but the tightness in his expression sets off the class.

"Let Togata do it. Then whoever else wants the additional challenge can then fight you," Aizawa commands, tired eyes narrowing at you with a slight hint of pride. You were his favorite student at one point.

"Bring it on, sensei," you turn from their teacher to the class again. "Don't disappoint me, 1-A." Your teasing look drops and the room sinks into an ice bath. The sheer intensity in your gaze and confidence in your stance submerging the younger students in slight fear.

Midoriya, ever the skittish hero-in-training, meets your stare head on by accident and prays that the heat crawling up his neck goes unnoticed. You keep your eyes on him for a second longer and then you turn away, opening the classroom door and leading the way to the gym.

He can't help the humiliation at his easy defeat by Togata's hands and the fact that your eyes have not strayed from him at all during this exercise. He clenches his fists and breathes through his nose, willing himself to calm down. He can't take you on if he's all flustered now, can he?

All of 1-A is groaning and grunting in pain from the non-lethal hits but a select few go up to you and take you up on your offer. Among him is also Uraraka, Todoroki, Kirishima, and Ashido. The grin you grace them with is...unsettling to say the least. Just how powerful are you if the strongest student of UA says you would barely leave them alive?

The rest of the class retreat to the walls, some slumping down to sit on the ground. Aizawa leans against the cold concrete, arms crossed in disinterest but his eyes are locked on the impending ass-whooping you're going to deliver. You walk to the middle of the gym, finger pointing in Izuku's direction, and call him up.

"Freckles, you first!"

He gulps and clenches his jaw, ignoring just how fast your commanding tone is making his blood sing and singe. He steps up to you and is caught off guard by the sweet smile you give him. He smiles back unsurely and that was his mistake. In two seconds, you have him crushed into the ground, a hand in his curls and a knee in between his shoulder blades. His cheek hurts, most likely broken, from where you slammed it into the concrete and he tastes blood in his mouth. He must have bit his tongue when you took him down.

You tug at his hair and the groan that escapes him entices you to lean forward and whisper "don't let a charming smile disarm you, freckles. You look so sweet like this beneath me though."

His breath hitches, not just from your weight on top of him but he feels a zing shoot down his abdomen, your tone utterly sensual. He's sure it's part of your game, how you get people to submit and accept defeat. He's sad to say that he's succumbed to it too but he will not give up. He readies himself to get off the floor when your hands leave him and he's confused.

"Watch and learn if you want to know how to get a hit in on me," you taunt, winking at his still crumpled form.

He gulps harshly and he shakes his head, steadying himself to stand up. He joins his other classmates by the far wall and his eyes glaze over. Thoughts run a mile a minute through his skull and he shifts his stance, feeling the blood rush south involuntarily.

It's not that he doesn't like feeling this way but it's that you don't even give a shit about how you affect him and the other boys you defeat. He notices how when you take down Todoroki, the stoic boy looks frazzled for once. He notices how Kirishima stuffs his hands in his pockets once he recovers from being thrown to the floor and the nervous glancing of his crimson eyes.

He can't help it when the school day concludes and he returns to the dorm that he's the first one in the showers, hot water burning his skin. The steam rolls off him and his wandering hand reaches its destination. He leans his forehead on the cool tile and his free hand comes up to his mouth, muffling his noises.

His eyes roll back in desperation, now biting his other hand to will the excitement back to the deep, dark corners of his mind. God, he's so embarrassed and angry at himself but he can't help it! He can't help that his shower takes twice as long and his hand has more than one bite mark marred into the skin.

He can't help it when he finally gets back to his room that he immediately locks the door and strips from his night clothes, crawling into bed with such wanton desire. He shoves his pillow between his thighs and he rocks, the rough texture sending pain up his spine but he doesn't care.

He can't help it when every day since that day, he needs to imagine your lips grazing his ear and talking him through it. He knows you would, you seem like the type. He needs to imagine you catching him in the act and punishing him for it. Maybe you'd rough him up a bit more than you did that one time. Oh, he'd like that. It would be such an educational experience and he shivers when that specific fantasy makes its way to the forefront of his mind.

He can't help it that he seeks you out now, hoping to get a sliver of insight to you and your power. He trails after you, asks you questions, and tries to get you alone. He's so obvious with it that you notice but you like to keep him squirming. You know the effect you have on boys, especially ones who are inexperienced and finally understanding the sway their hormones have on their body.

You enjoy toying with him, and he can't help but thrive on it.