a/n: the 392 leaks are literally tearing me apart; i need some fluff.
coffee was the first step in bakugo’s morning routine. he was the cranky coffee cliche, a man that truly couldn’t function without a bit of caffeine in his system.
he was always up before you, filling the house with the rich scent of his colombian roast. initially it had you reeling, clearing your sinuses at its mere strength. but you’d grown accustomed and even began to love that scent every morning.
as you eased out of bed, stretching your arms above your head, you breathed deeply through your nose.
coffee.
you headed to the kitchen, slipping some house shoes on.
there he was, leaning against the counter with his kiss cat coffee mug that matched with yours.
the moment he heard you padding into the kitchen, his lips quirked into a smile, “coffee?”
you snorted, “not that poison.”
he set his mug down and pulled you into his chest as you approached him, smiling down at you.
“it’ll wake you up.”
“i’d rather do it naturally.”
you wrapped your arms around him, leaning your head against his chest.
for what you wished could be eternity, all you heard was his heartbeat and the soft hiss of the coffee machine. all was well in your world, a world so small. bakugo and coffee and your home. that was all you needed.
“i love you.” you mumbled, looking up at him.
“i love you.”
he leaned down for a kiss, leaving a strong taste of the strongest folgers colombian roast on the shelves. it was bitter, devoid of cream or sugar, but you’d drown in it for him. for one more kiss, one more hug. for eternity.
“sorry about the coffee breath.” he chuckled, leaning his forehead against yours.
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- the condition of feeling anxious and not experiencing success internally, despite being high-performing in external, objective ways. (the feeling that you don’t deserve success despite earning it.)
sakusa kiyoomi is rightfully seated on the highest, most ornate of pedestals in your mind. he’s beautiful and brilliant and the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for.
he knows how you feel; he knows that you’d fill papyruses and etch the most elaborate stories and pictures of his perfection on the largest hieroglyphs. he insists he’d do the same, but when you step back to really consider how you measure up to him, you feel lackluster, brittle, and stinky like sulfur.
you’d never tell him that, of course. you avoid his talking-to’s like the plague—mostly because they never really changed your mind. but you also just really hated disappointing him; he’d frown, and his eyebrows would furrow and make the cutest little wrinkles that wouldn’t let you take him seriously.
however, you didn’t always enjoy his perfection. every time you accomplished something, you felt it was dull compared to the trophies and framed degrees lining the walls of his “office” (he watches game film and crazy rich asians on loop—nothing too fancy.)
when you had decided to go to college and pursue higher education, you had been proud of your perseverance through every crappy professor and 8am class. throughout sleepless nights, coffee jitters, depression, anxiety, hours of studying, you were able to graduate with an ample gpa and earn your degree.
despite everything, you weren’t nearly as excited when you walked the stage. you moved your tassel half-heartedly, suddenly feeling like the past four years weren’t as hard as you’d made them out to be.
following the ceremony, sakusa took you out to a fancy restaurant, raving about how proud he was of you and how he knew you could do it.
his words made you smile, but pain seared through your heart. you couldn’t understand why you couldn’t appreciate your work, your accomplishments—every minute and second spent working towards something huge.
you looked down at your drink, studying the ice as a startling thought ran through your mind.
maybe you didn’t deserve it.
you didn’t really do anything. you just turned in assignments on time and studied here and there. anyone can do that.
your chest tightened, a dull realization encapsulating you. you’re not special. sakusa has accomplished so much more and doesn’t dwell in it, so why should you?
“hey,” sakusa reached his hand across the table for yours, “i’m extremely proud of you.”
your eyes softened, but only momentarily, “it’s not that big a deal, kiyo. just uh, just a stepping stone.” you squeezed his hand, wanting nothing more than to rid of this feeling in your heart.
“not a big deal? just making it to graduation is a big deal. i’ve seen the years of stress you’ve had to endure.” his eyes turned stern, giving you that talking-to look, “no one deserves this more than you.”
you bit down on your bottom lip to keep it from quivering, “that’s not true.”
“what’s wrong? talk to me.”
you sighed, looking down at the silky red table cloth, “nothing. i just.. i don’t,” you stammered, searching for the words while simultaneously trying to keep your eyes dry, “i’m just not as.. proud as i thought i would be.”
both of his hands now covered yours, eyes laser focused on you. the only thing that mattered to him in the entire world to him was you.
“why?”
you suck in a breath, using your free hand to wipe at your waterline, “i don’t know.” you whisper, “i just don’t.. feel like i deserve it. i don’t see the hard work that led me here. not like you.”
“like me?” he quirked a brow, “baby, look at me.”
you finally met his eyes, tears threatening to spill over.
“you worked so, so hard for this. and maybe it felt anti-climatic, but you earned it. you have every reason to be proud and excited right now.” his voice never wavered, and he spoke as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life, “don’t compare yourself to anyone. you’re just as worthy of success as myself and anyone else here. my trophies? those are all thanks to a team effort. but you? your degree? you did that, all on your own. and that should mean something to you. because it definitely means something to me; it means that i have the smartest, most hardworking partner i could’ve asked for.”
your eyes were wide, unblinking. you didn’t even notice the tears falling down your cheeks until sakusa was wiping them away. you turned your face to kiss his palm, resting your hand on his forearm.
a/n: my uterus is suffering rn and i need an aizawa to help
after being together for some time, he already has your cycle pretty much memorized and plans ahead
however, he’s a firm believe in pre-period care. he always knows where the nearest heating pad is and is always mindful of your chest
despite its usual consistency, your period can occasionally throw a lot of different pre-period symptoms at you, so no matter what you want to eat, how much you want to sleep, or how frequently your mood changes, he’s always prepared to handle any possible scenario
his body runs warm, so he’s always willing so be your personal furnace just by placing his hands on your lower belly
once the actual period hits, he’s in full husband mode, insisting that you stay home, and if anyone at work complains, he’ll handle them
this is not a man that plays around when it comes to your period—he doesn’t use “shark week”/“aunt flow” or any other euphemisms. nor is he afraid to buy the appropriate toiletries in the unlikely scenario you run out
seriously, you never run out. despite the normalization of periods in your home, he goes crazy stocking up on toiletries, pain pills, herbal teas—everything
he doesn’t encourage you to exercise or walk around to “assuage” the pain
when he does eventually have to leave for work, he makes sure everything is within arms-length (he’d move the toilet if he could)
it takes about another six months of being married to remind him that you’re not bed-ridden just because you’re on your period
despite that, he takes care of you to hood best ability, never once questioning the “authenticity” of your pain
"can i look yet?" you whined through a smile, completely blind thanks to kirishima's hands being firmly placed over your eyes.
"almost," he sang, guiding you through what felt like grass, "you've asked that about a million times."
"i'll make it a million and one."
"a few more steps, aaand, we, are... here!" he grinned, uncovering your eyes to reveal a cozy little blanket with champagne on ice, a charcuterie board, and two glasses.
you gasped, absolutely blown away by the sight. it might not have seemed like anything extravagant, but it perfect. it was kirishima.
"ei, you did this for me?" you turned to face him, eyes absolutely shining.
he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, "yeah, i know it's not much, but we haven't been able to spend time together with work and stuff."
you tackled him in a rib-crushing hug, legs and all, "it's so perfect, ejirou. i love it so much."
he wheezed at the impact, wrapping his arms around your waist, "m'glad you like it, babe. so glad."
after about five minutes of just enjoying each other's embrace, the two of you got back onto your feet and sat across from each other on the blanket. you tucked your legs beneath you, watching lovingly as kirishima poured champagne for the two of you.
you chattered mindlessly, enjoying glasses of champagne complimented by some crackers, cheese, and fruit. occasionally, kirishima would laugh so loud you were sure people driving by could hear it. you didn't care, though. that was the sound of your happiness.
after roughly an hour of talking and laughing, kirishima stood to "grab something". while you waited, you finished up the last bit of your drink, popping one of the pieces of ice that somehow hadn't yet melted in your mouth.
you looked off to the horizon, watching as the sun started to set. it grew breezy--not quite enough to be chilly, but enough to cool you down. it was perfect.
"hey, ei, what's taking so--" you turned, almost hitting your face on his outstretched hand.
he laughed, shaking his head, "dance with me?"
you grinned, pulling yourself up with his hand, "i'd love nothing more."
he pressed play on his phone, and then dropped it onto the blanket as a slow r&b song started playing, wrapping his arms around your waist.
the two of you swayed back and forth, forehead to forehead, eyes locked on each other. you didn't dare close your eyes, for this moment was one you never wanted to forget. you wanted to savor every second of the lovely evening you were having with the love of your life.
"i'm not as good with words as you are, y/n, but i love you." he whispered, tightening his hold around your waist, "i love you more than anyone or anything in this world and every other world and every world after that."
"i love you too, ejirou. you're everything to me, and then some." you grinned, eyes watering as you brushed your lips against his.
the song had long ended, but the two of you were still swaying back and forth, the last bit of glow from the sun casting your intertwined shadows on the grass.
a bit cliche but i needed smth happy. reblogs are appreciated.
shinso moved the disposable cup away from his lips, lowering it back down towards his desk that was conveniently snug against the wall and his side of the bed.
through tired eyes he found your dopey gaze, a sight he'd never grow tired of, especially as the sun filtered in through the partially closed curtains, climbing up, up your blanketed form.
"mm-hmm." he hummed, extending the cup to you as an offering, lips quirked up in a small smile.
you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, taking the warm cup between two hands with a yawn, "is it from that place? la monarca?"
"la mona-r-ca," he rolled his r exaggeratedly, unable to suppress a tired chuckle, "it's good. i was really excited to try it."
you hummed, blowing softly into the small drinking hole to soothe any potential burning. once you deemed the risk of scalding your tongue to be at its minimum, you took a generous sip of the coffee.
the moment the liquid hit your tongue, you spit it back to the cup with some admittedly poor aim.
shinso grinned, grabbing the soiled coffee cup back from you, "what's wrong?"
his stifled giggles were drowned out by the coughing fit you'd been thrown into as a result of the tiny bit you'd swallowed, "what.."
voice hoarse and strained, you tried to speak clearly, "the fuck?"
despite trying to hide his laughter, it all spilled out at your angry eyes that lost any trace of sleepiness.
"what's wrong?"
"that tasted like dirt, hitoshi," you rasped out, "what the hell?"
he took a sip of the cursed beverage, grinning over at you, "envivo lungo, hon. you know i don't fancy that sweet shit."
"that's," you sputtered, "that's like straight espresso!"
he hummed, "just thought you might've wanted a wake-up call."
you frowned, still trying to get the taste of pure espresso out of your mouth, "yeah, well you were wrong." with a pout, you turned away from him, pulling the blanket up and over your head.
slipping the intern applications he'd been busying himself with back into their file, he crawled back into bed, slipping under the blanket.
"y/n," he sang, pressing his forehead to the back of your neck. he slung his leg over your hip, pulling you back against him, "babe?"
met by silence, he slipped his arm under you, flipping you onto his stomach so you were directly on top of him. despite that proximity, you still found a way to not even offer him eye contact.
"i'm sorry, i thought it'd be a little funny. i didn't mean to make you upset." he mumbled against the top of your head, smoothing his hand down your back. "wanna go get coffee? we can try the graham cracker one."
at his proposal, you perked up, looking down at him to search for any trace of his absolute need to prank you, "okay. you know i miss you, right? when you leave in the mornings to go get coffee? i know i'm sleeping, but still."
he kissed the furrow between your brows, "you wanna go with me?"
"hell no, i'll smite you if you wake me up at that ungodly hour."
he chuckled, "okay, then i don't know what you want me to do, hon."
you dropped your head back down onto his chest, tracing shapes on his side, just over his ribcage, "just stay with me like this. forever. i'll be your espresso."
"mm, my envivo lungo, baby."
shot of espresso spinoff? reblogs are appreciated.
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I couldn’t find any post about rules for requests so if this request is something u don’t wanna do then u can delete it. But I was thinking if you could do aizawa having a sibling or daughter. Like a younger sister or daughter who he teaches and do some type of angst with them. Like him not paying much attention to her or she’s caught doing something (like smoking,drugs). Something like that. Thank you!
i see you
aizawa / younger sister! reader
cw: (underage) drug usage, drug paraphernalia, drug lingo, she/her pronouns
aizawa had never been the warm, touchy-feely big brother, but he had his own way of showing love. he’d spend time with you, help you with your middle and high school projects no matter how busy he was with school. he basically raised you after the two of you lost your parents.
still, you never thought of him as a dad. you thought of him as your big brother, the only person that you had in this world. the person who was there when your quirk manifested, the one who taught you how to use it, how to fight, how to be strong. he was your blood, your best friend, your brother.
at least until he started school at u.a.
he’d come home late, beat up, bruised from rigorous training. no matter how much you voiced your concerns, he brushed you off.
the only moment your young teenage mind had relief was when he decided to be an underground hero. as selfish as it sounded, you didn’t want him to be famous and known by all. then you would be even more alone.
-
now, as a teacher and an underground hero, aizawa was busier than ever. even when he was home, he paid you no mind, not bothering to ask how school had been or how your grades were.
it stung.
when you did talk, it was usually because he was getting mad at you for not washing dishes or leaving a cupboard door open.
a wedge had been driven between the two of you, pushing you farther and farther apart until all you could feel was hurt and anger and betrayal. all of those negative emotions were manifesting into the ugliness of resentment.
-
as the sun fell, you pulled on some clothes, something cropped and small and tight. you had already done some dark makeup to meet up with some friends for a smoke sesh.
grabbing your duffel bag that contained your grinder and some rolling papers, you took a careful step out of the door and listened.
fuck, he was home.
you glanced over at your window but immediately rejected the idea after recalling how hard you’d fallen the last time. with a sigh, you quietly made your way down the stairs, into the kitchen, and towards the front door.
“where are you going?” his voice stopped you, annoyance flaming red hot in your chest, “a rave?”
“does it matter?” you quirked a brow, turning around to face him, “i’ll be back later.”
“dressed like that?” he was unamused, eyes narrowed at both your outfit choice and the smell radiating off your bag.
you scoffed, turning back around and walking to the door.
“y/n, you’re not going anywhere dressed like that.” he called, standing up.
“i’m almost 18. i don’t have to ask you how i’m allowed to dress.” you grabbed your house keys, opening the door.
“y/n.” he demanded, firmer, “you’re not going. go back upstairs, wipe that shit off your face, and read a book or something.”
you didn’t even spare him a glance, save for a polished middle finger as you slammed the door behind you.
-
hours later, you were high off your ass from a few too many bowls. for the most part, you were sprawled out on the grass, blinking slowly at the starry sky.
you didn’t know how you were gonna get home or face your brother, but that was the beauty of being high. none of it mattered. the fact that he didn’t love you anymore didn’t matter. the fact that he was disappointed in you, hated you, thought you were a failure, a disgrace—none of it mattered.
“yo, y/n.. are you crying?”
you touched your cheek, feeling the wetness you hadn’t even realized was there, “oh shit. yeah, guess i am.”
your friend approached you, reaching out a hand, “come on, let’s get you home.”
thankfully, you picked friends well, and they helped you trudge all the way to your doorstep. after waving goodbye, they left, leaving you to lazily fumble for the keys to the door.
before you even had the chance, aizawa unlocked and yanked the door open, staring down at you disapprovingly.
you rolled your eyes, pushing past him and into the house, immediately heading for the stairs.
“really, y/n? is this what you do? waste your life away by getting high?” he slammed the door, locking it behind him.
“yeah, cool, right?” you giggled, leaning against the banister.
“this isn’t funny. you’re throwing your life away by smoking and god knows what else.” he approached you, “get down here. we need to talk about this.”
“don’t really feel like it.”
“i don’t give a damn,” he grabbed your arm, dragging you down the stairs and to the island in the kitchen, “sit the hell down.”
“don’t fucking touch me.” you hissed, yanking your arm away, “i don’t wanna talk to you.”
“too bad. you make stupid choices, so you get to deal with the consequences.” he sat on one of the barstools, “how long?”
“how long what?”
“have you been smoking?”
you rolled your eyes, sarcasm dripping like venom from your voice, “well, i didn’t like how oxy and acid felt, so, maybe a year ago?”
“fine, you wanna be funny? let’s see how much you’re laughing when you’re grounded.”
you snorted out a laugh, “grounded? okay, dad, you taking away my tv and phone, too?”
he said nothing but placed his palm out expectantly.
you gaped, only for a moment, before doubling over in laugher, “yeah, right. you’re not getting my shit.”
“until i know what sneaky shit you’re doing behind my back, yeah, i am.”
irritation crawled up your arms, halting all laughter, “behind your back? really? that’s rich.”
he quirked a brow, hand still ready to grab your phone.
“it’s not behind your back if you’re never here anyways. i could be a few weeks pregnant and you wouldn’t even know.”
“are you?” he looked worried, just for a moment.
“god,” you shook your head, hurt panging in your chest, “no. i know you think i’m stupid, but i’m not that stupid.”
“i don’t think you’re stupid. i think you’re acting out for attention.”
you gritted your teeth, anger bubbling over, “don’t. don’t act like you know shit about me, cause you don’t.” emotion was evident in your tone and you knew it, you knew by the burn in your eyes that you’d start crying soon.
“then tell me.” he scanned your face, the concern becoming more evident on his features, and it pissed you off.
“now you wanna know? after all these years of me being on my own, you wanna know?” your vision blurred, which might have been a relief, “you don’t get to, to abandon me and ignore me and then pop in and play dad whenever you want. it doesn’t fucking work that way.”
you were crying now, but your words were still sharp as a blade. they made aizawa lose his composure, his expression faltering into one of realization.
“y/n, i didn’t..” he trailed off, trying to find the words.
“didn’t what? get too busy? miss the science fair? my sporting events? every fucking report card that i worked my ass off to get good grades on?” you demanded, years worth of weight finally coming off of your shoulders, “yeah, you fucking did, shota. you became a hero and just,” your voice cracked, finally taking your words away from you.
he was crying too, eyes wide and focused on you, “i’m so sorry.”
you stared at him, dumbfounded. your tears were relentless, all but choking you with an ocean of salt and sadness and anger.
“why?” you whispered out, “why wasn’t i good enough? i tried, i tried..” your legs finally gave way as you started to sink towards the ground.
aizawa caught you, squeezing you tight in his arms, “you’re perfect, y/n. i’m so sorry.” he whispered.
a shock ran through your body at the contact. you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you had hugged. for a moment, you just stared at the wall, frozen and shocked. the protectiveness that rolled off aizawa in waves brought you back, compelling you to squeeze him and never let go.
“i love you, shota. please don’t leave me again.”
“i love you too. i’m not going anywhere.”
a/n: woop, thanks for the request. i don’t write aizawa much so this was super fun! i hope it was to your liking.
a/n: it's been a while, huh? hope this is enjoyable.
cw: self-deprecation, a bit of cursing.
sero applied to u.a. high with low expectations. he wasn’t even going to apply, but his mom drilled the “you never know until you try” motto into his head. she was his number one supporter throughout the grueling waiting period between his decision and the actual entrance exams. really, she went all schrödinger's cat on him: he’d been neither rejected nor accepted yet.
despite how ridiculous it sounded, it really helped. it calmed his nerves and helped him get past the entrance exams and into class 1-a. now, after three years, he still found the fact that he’d made it into the top class and come so far mind-blowing. he actually had to pinch himself from time to time to ensure it wasn’t some cruel dream.
he still struggled with his confidence sometimes, especially when he watched bakugo and midoriya and everyone else with their flashy quirks. it made him question if he truly belonged among the ranks of the elites–his quirk was tape. sure, that might be useful to swing around with like a natural-born spiderman, but it couldn’t help him incapacitate a rampaging villain. he had to leave that to everyone else.
he was so plain. he got reminded of that every time they went into battle or applied for internships. he was reminded of it just by looking in the mirror.
this plainess scared him out of pursuing potential romantic interests, which automatically labeled him the nth wheel when he went out with friends. seriously, it felt like everyone had found someone to love but him.
kirishima always nudged him when he complained about it, claiming that there were plenty of people that liked him; he was just blind and had his heart set on one specific person.
“seriously, sero, you stare at y/n, like, all day. they can’t read your mind, bro.”
he’d walked away from the conversation when everyone started collectively agreeing with him, opting to instead relish in his own presence up in his room. far away from you and your awfully enticing presence.
sero was completely oblivious to your reciprocated glances in his direction, especially when your gaze lingered just a second too long and you had to whip your head around in the opposite direction. you got the same talk from the rest of class 3-a, teasing you endlessly for your cowardice.
“sero’s too much of a wuss to confess to you, y/n. if you don’t do it, the two of you will never happen. guarantee it.”
kaminari really dissed sero when it came to his lack of ‘manliness’, especially to you. however, his claim really worried you. if kaminari was so sure that sero liked you, you should just go for it, right?
after sleeping on the decision, you finally decided you were gonna do it. you were giddy that morning, despite having hardly slept that night. your nerves were on fire, leaving a lingering tingle at the base of your spine as you walked out of your room that morning.
come lunchtime, you finally decided it was time to spill your guts to who you hoped would be your future partner.
too nervous to eat, you took a deep breath and made your way over to sero, who was seated between kirishima and kaminari. they were laughing and talking, which made up about 45% of the noise in the room.
“sero?” you noticed how the conversation came to a halt, cheeks warming as sero turned to face you, “can i, uh, talk to you?”
he looked over at kaminari, who was already all but shoving him out his chair and towards you, “oh, y/n! yeah, yeah. ‘course.”
you ignored the thumbs up once sero turned his back to the table, instead leading him out of the double doors and to a less crowded area in the hallway.
“woah, gonna murder me or somethin’?” he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
you laughed awkwardly, glancing to the side, “no, not planning on it. i wanted to,” you fidgeted with your hands, desperately trying to keep your eyes up instead of glued to the floor, “to tell you something.”
he looked equally nervous, arching a brow, “what’s up? did i do something?”
“no, no, nothing like that. i just wanted to let you know that i,” you paused, palms sweaty and clammy, “i really like you! and i’m—” you stammered, suddenly regretting your decision, “i’m sorry if that’s, uh, weird or something.”
he just stared at you for a moment, jaw quite literally dropped.
“sero?”
your voice seemed to snap him out of his trance, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, “y/n, i’m sorry. i just..” he bit his lip, a sadness washing over his face, “i gotta go.”
“sero,” you called after him, but he was already backing away and nearly running away from you, “sero, wait!”
but he was gone.
dejected, you found that you no longer had any sort of appetite and decided to go back to your dorm. so kaminari was wrong: sero harbored no feelings for you. not only that, but you were pretty sure you just ruined your friendship.
you deemed the rest of your day a miserable one and stayed in your room all day, wallowing in your own pity party.
that is, until kaminari knocked obnoxiously hard on your door and, once he realized it was unlocked, barged in unceremoniously, “y/n!” he panted, “what the hell happened?”
you frowned, sitting on the edge of your bed, “hello to you, too, kaminari.”
he rolled his eyes, strolling over to plop down next to you, “seriously. what went wrong?”
you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your chin atop them, sniffling quietly, “dunno. he just kinda ran off. he doesn’t like me, kami. he doesn’t like me, and i just ruined our friendship.”
when he didn’t respond–which was already out of the ordinary for kaminari, considering he never stopped talking–you looked over to him, only to meet his dumbfounded expression.
“wow, you are, like, the dumbest person i’ve met.”
“um, rude?” you scowled, punching him in the arm.
“ow, ow! okay, maybe oblivious is the right word, i’m sorry.” he rubbed his arm, “what i mean is, the guy is insecure as hell, y/n. he doesn’t seem like it, but he really has, like, zero confidence in himself as both a hero and a regular person. he probably thinks he’s not good enough for you.”
“you can’t say that for sure. why would he not be good enough? he’s the badass hero.”
“yeah, but he doesn’t think that way about himself. he does like you though, y/n. honest. he talks about you all the time.” he chuckles, “it actually gets kinda annoying.”
you looked down, contemplating, “so.. what should i do?”
“go get him, duh! he’s holed up in his room, has been since lunch.”
you rubbed your stinging eyes and nodded determinedly, standing up and shaking off your nerves, “yeah. yeah, you’re right. i’m gonna go talk to him.” you walked to your door, giving kaminari a final glance, “thanks, kami.”
you almost ran to sero’s dorm, but thankfully you composed yourself enough to slow it down to a speed walk.
the moment you got to his door, you knocked. hard.
“sero, open up! it’s y/n.”
it was quiet for just a beat before sero’s nervous voice came floating to your side of the door, “i’m, uh, kinda busy y/n. maybe we can talk later.”
“you’re not pushing me away, sero. not again. now, let me in before i get bakugo to blow your door down.” you leaned your forehead against the door, hoping your urgency was soaking into the wood and flooding into sero’s room, infiltrating his senses.
“don’t!” he yelled quickly, knowing bakugo would gladly do it, “i’m coming, okay? don’t call bakugo.”
you smiled, satisfied as his nervous footsteps came padding towards the door. it swung open, revealing a cloudy-eyed sero.
“sero hanta, i can’t believe you ran away from me! what the hell was that?” you demanded, arms crossed tightly over your chest.
“y/n, i–”
“i’m not finished!” you cut him off, “sero, you’re an amazing hero, okay? you’re an amazing crime-fighter, an amazing student, and..” you trailed off, looking up at him with a small smile, “an amazing you. so stop doubting yourself, and stop letting that doubt get in the way of what you want.”
your sudden burst of confidence suddenly drained from your body as sero just stood there, speechless. it made you feel small and like you’d had the completely wrong idea. how humiliating.
“no—not that i’m what you want or anything. i just meant that you really need to have more confidence in yourself and–”
apparently, sero had found the confidence you lost, because he shut up your rambling with his own way of communicating: a kiss.
it was chaste and a bit awkward but beautiful all the same.
when the two of you separated, you grinned up at the blushing boy, throwing your arms around him.
“thank you, y/n. i’m gonna try not to ruin this.”
“everything you touch becomes better, sero. i trust you.”
before either of you could get another word in, a loud whoop came from down the hallway, belonging to one denki kaminari.
