#mysteriesmusing

You gestured to the space between your bodies. Your fist bruising the air between you. You’d not stopped clutching that immaculately pressed collar all wrinkled between your knuckles.

“— you’d have to ask her exactly what’s bothering her herself,” she paused, as if deciding whether or not to tell him something as they turned down the hallway. “But I will tell you that — I think — she just needs to stick to her standards and finally date someone that’s actually reliable, and considerate, and consistent.”

His ears perked at that. Someone reliable. Someone considerate. Someone consistent.

Fuyumi continued, “It does sound an awful lot like someone I know. I could try to set them up.”

“Who?” So his sister was already about to set you up with someone? Fuyumi made a choked sound, her baby brothers heterochromatic eyes fixated on her with such intensity a barely disguised eagerness and glimmering jealously behind his irises. He pushed again, “Who does it remind you of? This reliable, considerate, and consistent person?” He watched as Fuyumi looked up at him with utter disbelief. Shoto blinked, gears turning, and turned his attention straight ahead. The stack of papers growing heavier as his tongue turned leaden in his mouth at the idea. The look on his sisters face promised that the answer was going to be distinctly embarrassing too if he could not guess it right away.

And as they crossed the threshold of the school building and made their way out on the sidewalk — sunny yellow monkey bars occupied by students waiting on the trains. Shoto and his sister waved to them; a chorus of “Bye Sensei!” called in their wake. His sister turned back to him biting her lip to try and keep her teasing smile from growing wider. “— would you like a hint, Shoto-kun?” Shoto hummed affirmatively. “Okay,” Fuyumi adjusted her tote bag strap as she considered the best choice of words, “He’s very reliable. A lot of people rely on him to keep them safe.” Shoto grimaced. A fellow prohero then? With their father’s connection she’d know plenty.

“And he is definitely considerate. He always helps without being asked like when I go home for the day or when making time for his friends or showing up for others by visiting them — even when they’ve not always treated him well. He’s also very considerate by being observant and always remembers the little things like someone’s favorite flower, or soba order…” Shotos eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly to anyone but someone close to him.

“Fuyumi these facts don’t narrow it down—“ Naturally a man should keep schedules and remember things about his friends and family.

“Well then, this person is really consistent at being kind and soft-spoken and a good friend to others,” Fuyumi paused looking directly into her brothers eyes, “but also consistently terrible at chopping chives.” Fuyumi nearly fisted her hand into the top of her scalp as her brother fell behind her. Shotos once even long-legged pace coming to a complete stop. That strange infamous reboot flickering across his whole body as his red and white eyebrows shot straight into his hairline — a finger prodding directly in the center of his sternum where his phosphor scar lay. “Me?” “Yes you!” Fuyumi was slightly hysteric, laughter bubbling out of her, she was going to tear all her hair out if she had to deal with Shoto’s strangely endearing oblivion any longer. “I know my brothers and you all have the same himura lovestruck look — you get it from mom,” her baby brothers shock melted into a heartbreakingly soft smile. Her heart ached, and she grabbed onto her lanyard. The kodama charm pressing little point limbs into her palm — oh she loved seeing him this way. All grown up and happy and healthy and learning to do things he liked — just being Shoto who’s soft-spoken, and immensely thoughtful, and considerate of others… Fuyumi wasn’t a hero in the same way that the rest of her family was but she could do this in her own way because Todoroki Sensei made people lives better. Shoto was still beside himself hand running through his newly cropped hair, “So you’ll assist me in making my affection known? You’re sure I would be a good partner for her?” Fuyumi shoved her finger directly into her brothers chest, “You — baby brother, would be a good partner to anyone.” And Shoto could only grin ear to ear as his sister made a declaration into the cold afternoon air her voice coated with that resolute Todoroki tone — the one that constantly shook the nation…

and the frequent selfie with the sun basking in your radiance all eons away from here, and from him. and for the few days notice you gave him to pick you up he’s been swapping shifts and pulling doubles. the last time you swung by had only been for a few days and you’d just stayed for your family holiday celebrations. so he’s making damn sure that he makes time in his schedule for you … and you actually managed to make Katsuki Bakugou excited about driving up to the airport at 9 o’clock at night. 9PM. after. his. bedtime.

Eijiro Kirishima is convinced that this “old friend” of his pals has extensive blackmail on him. (and obviously he wants to know the dirt) Izuku Midoriya is thrilled talk your ear off as you teach him everything you know from your education studies. (his new career path and lesson plans are kicking his ass) And Katsuki’s calm level-headed father, Masaru Bakugou, gladly texted him back agreeing to tailor him a fresh new button up to match his recent gains. At the airport Katsuki Bakugou kept a strong grip on his caffeine. He didn’t want any, but the awful scent of badly ground coffee grounded him in this obnoxious hell of unwashed people. He couldn’t understand how you willing revolved in and out of these places so often. He took a sip, his eyes fixated on the blue screen of rotating flight arrivals waiting for people to flood out of Gate 57D. … and 20 minutes later it happened. And that’s when Katsuki managed to spot your bright hair peaking out of the crowd. And he quickly made a fuss of picking stray lint and fixing his shirt and carding his fingers through his hair. Katsuki stood up, “Oi y/n over here.” his mouth twitched, as you yawned and fumbled through the gate. You looked good. You also looked tired dwarfed by your hiking pack and the tall business men off-boarding at your gate. He can see that brand new suitcase in hand as you briskly made your way through the crowd. you stop a few feet apart blinking up at him. The silent awe only lasted for a split moment before you throw your arms around him, “It’s so good to see you!” and suddenly everything feels clammy and tingly as he hold you in his arms. and that new heart of his thuds loudly against his ribcage. and shit — he forgot how much he loved the way you learned how to touch people. your full strength poured into a hug. even your chin gently hugs his shoulder. and then you pull away. blinking as if to dissuade the tired edges of sleep tugging on you. in truth it is — but to be honest it’s such a dream to see Katsuki like this, like Dynamite, finally after all this time. And even your own quirk acts up in some emotional response to his presence despite the suppression aids. Katsuki places the coffee in your hand with a boyish smirk, “figured you’d want one. you know, after you’re done eyeing me with your quirk.” you groan heavily and take a sip of the terrible airport coffee to hide your flushed face. and he’s quick to offer a hand as you trail after him through the airport and to his oddly sensible Subaru in the parking lot. “just admit I’m a good specimen and that’s why your quirk is acting up.” Katsuki barks. you scoff watching him load your stuff into the back of his car, “you know my anatomical stats doesn’t work that way. also what’s with the tight jeans and shirt then if you didn’t mean to automatically trigger it hmm?” your quirk, anatomical stats, was a part of the reason you applied to work abroad on your research project. Able to find definitive information on a person merely by looking at them. It was perfect for your study to track developmental stages on quirk growth in young children. The only downside of your quirk — that Katsuki was well aware of — was that you regularly wear quirk suppressing aides because it is rather irritating seeing everyone stats fly around in your head. your longtime friend looks like he’s been shot from your quip as he shuts the trunk and casually shrugs looking over — what your quirk supplies — a perfectly sculpted muscular collection 73% stronger than the average 24 year old man. “it just happened to be what I had in my locker after my shift, which I so graciously moved for you.” you roll your eyes and grin as Katsuki stalks over all 6’ 2” and 5/8ths of him. Your friend has always been a perfect specimen and he knows it. Despite the annoyance of making your quirk glitch it isn’t half as bad when the person happens to fit into Da Vinci’s “perfect man” golden ratio. “hmm that’s right, your boss makes you dress nice now.”

he opens the door for you, “you can’t argue with agency policy.” Katsuki reaches over to buckle you in almost as if you’re more than friends and you give him an award winning smile, as you do it yourself. “Can’t have you straining that new 19.8 inch bicep over little ol’ me,” you tease, “wouldn’t want to destroy that Bakugou original you’re wearing.” Katsuki coughs into his fist. “I’ve been hitting the gym lately. My companies quirk analytics specialist and nutritionist have got me on a new plan. It seems to be working,” he shrugs again, but there’s a question hanging in the air as he glances at you. “uh-huh well it looks good on you golden boy,” you reply and from somewhere in the car Katsuki shoves a familiar coffee cup back into your hands.

“It’s definitely working,” you take a sip. It’s your favorite. It’s almost hard to be mad. “you didn’t need to dress-up like that and purposefully cause a quirk glitch for me to tell you that.” He knows that come tomorrow morning you’ll even endorse his obsession, and yours truly although you’d never admit to his fave that he’s your favorite specimen, by going in to the agency and doing a regular full physiology chart. Katsuki glances at you again. The way you happily sit back and blink lazily at him. A teasing lilt to your lips as you sip at your coffee. He knows he’s all lines and angles and numbers to you right now. He knows because he’s seen that impressive quirk of yours on display once or twice about two years ago on a high-tech quirk interface projection system…

It was then that he saw a glimpse of what you’d always described ‘anatomical stats’ to look like. The way the numbers seem to blink and yawn and stretch into smooth lines that dot across a person. At the time everyone in the room gasped to see it one display, but Katsuki couldn’t shake off how when your eyes flickered to his; how much smoother, and brighter, and even gilded the edges of your vision got when looking at him. This tiny little image of himself onscreen a dashing blur of numbers — like a giddy little nerdy system overload — before assuming a rather angelic golden tint And suddenly the maddening blinking and frustrated held tilts and endearing flush across your cheeks and the ‘golden boy’ commentary finally clicked into place. He did have some effect on you.

Sero and himself already locked-in on the little chime of the Sato’s kitchen timer. But it’s Sero who comes bounding over into his room first raising his arms above his head before shooting a quick text to their floor group chat.

It’s usually only minutes later before the girls come bounding in. Yaoyurozu in her frilly nightgowns and cozy jumpers. Tsu in her crochet cardigans and basketball shorts sleepwear. And you in your tank and sweats as you plop down right next to him — preferably on his left hand side. Where he can’t see you as clearly from his left peripheral vision. Your figure sometimes the mere bell-like sound of your laugh, a glossy blur as you gossip and study and chat with FloorFive. The lot of them piled into Todoroki’s floor enjoying tea and sweets and each others calm company. And Todoroki may invest in contacts if it means he doesn’t have to crane his neck just so to see you clearly. The way you smile and leave your paper cup pulled away with a shimmery pink lip gloss stain on his table. And he’s entranced by the way you fiddle with the silvery jewelry adorning your neck and hands — a pretty little pebble of bluish sea glass hammered in. that you suddenly fling an arm across the middle of his chest — shoulder blade brushing his nipple through his shirt and your recently damp hair nestled under his chin. The soft aroma of honeyed blossoms and a hint of a sandalwood-ish log within. An underlying note of eucalyptus buried into your collar as you pull back with a polite, “sorry.” Your lastest freshly poured refill curls steam around your ear as you nibble at Sato’s latest test bake — orange chocolate and cardamom cookies — the pastry you far exceeded your reach to get. And Todoroki watches rapidly as the thrumming in his flushed ears subsides. you and his friends detailing your joint session in the gym today with Cementoss — a fray of exaggerated hands filling about the airspace of the table. He likes this feeling, and he loves the smell of tea and fresh baked goods and even the herby cleanse and perfume all melting together.

In the living room a pile of half-finished activities sit. The mismatched collection of floor cushions crowded around the tatami mat. There’s a collection of beads in a bowl waiting to be strung together. The makings of friendship bracelets and little fake plastic windchimes ready to be hastily strung up near the balcony door for summer — oh how Hitoshi and Eri loved to do that as children. But before Aizawa can truly inspect and critic the art gallery of achievements and invitations in the refrigerator door he’s greeted by a familiar face. “Why hello there little one,” in a second the familiar white calico headbutts into his hand. “Ah, I see Pochi hasn’t forgotten you. Poor kitten has been hiding from my girlfriend’s nephew. We’re watching him this week while her sister and brother-in-law go on a business trip.” “Ah, well that explains the little shoes,” Hitoshi nudges another set of inquisitive whiskers away from his drink like its second nature, “— that’s a rabbit.” “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, that’s Rita. Short for Margarita, and she will stick her face into your cup if you’re not careful . . .” Cute. Aizawa covers the steaming mug with his palm as the rabbit sniff his knuckles, “How old is her nephew then.” “Ah Tatsuya just turned 4 last month. He’s a sweet kid. Calls me Pochi and calls Pochi Toshi though. N/N can’t seem to convince him otherwise,” Hitoshi shrugs. His son takes another sip in an attempt to conceal the smile on his face — he’s gotten good at mimicking him, but not good enough. The tight lipped smile says enough of something. and it’s astonishing how simple of a thing it is to come have a cup of coffee among half finished crafts and aquarium brochures. there’s more stuff he sees sitting around your shared home as he sips of his mug, a hand still protectively over it as your grey fluffy bunny Margarita tries to get a taste.

— Shoji and Kirishima they really don’t care because you’ll close the broken stairwell door with the utmost care. you’ll greet their explosive gremlin floor mate with you arms lazily looped around his broad shoulders and a book corner stabbing him and honestly it’s more surprising than annoying. Shoji and Kirishima, honestly, are more likely to thank you than snitch.

“hey yo’ ladies what’s up? How’s the bracelet making going?” Dozens of heads swirl as your boyfriend jogs over — adorable frizzed black roots sticking to his forehead slick with the effort from the game. A sight you’d frequented from his athletic games throughout the year, normally he’d both fumble to card his hair back and tuck the frizzy mane into his headband. The girls peppered answers get cut off by loud swigs of water getting drowned in that bobbing Adam’s apple of his. Eijiro’s deep rosy eyes cutting a glance at the nearest friendship bracelet before the water bottle fully leaves his lips. He prods a fat finger at the nearest friendship bracelet, “hey that looks great! I love the colors!” “thanks! Counselor N/N taught me this new one,” the girl holds up her twirly bracelet, “it’s called a spiral staircase bracelet and it’s surprisingly easy!” the pipsqueaks attention is solely on her new proud bracelet creation, but your boyfriends eyes slid over to yours as your tongue prods the edge of your gums fighting off a smug face. and a creeping flush dusts the bridge of Eijiro’s, lightly crooked, nose. “is that so?” he asks, pearly sharp canines flashing against his lower lip as his mouth pulls tight into a smile.

“N/N is pretty good at the whole bracelet making thing —“ “Yeah I bet she could teach you a thing or two!”