'I'll -.'

'Stop threatening me, when we both know you're just upset that you've proven to be too uninteresting to entertain your lady-love again.' Bending at the hip, Shinso snatches the paper weight from under his foot and tosses the stone in his hand. With an amused boredom, he slips a small pocket knife from the rim of his boot and begins to scratch. 'What did she take this time?'

'Her shares of the last score, half the dried meat, the last mill-seed loaf, two of the expensive dresses and the...' Biting the inside of his cheeks, Sero's eyes drop to the floor. 'She took the Todoroki.'

A laugh bursts from Shinso's chest. 'Good fuckin' riddance.'

'I liked that painting.' Sero growls. 'Almost lost my fucking head stealing it too.'

'Oh, I remember...' Biting down his smile, Shinso licks at his lips and clears his throat. 'Worry not brother, we still have a game ahead.' He snickers. 'Maybe we'll be able to snatch you another.'

Sero seethes, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he grinds his teeth until he feels the molars catch. 'The game's pretty much fucked now that Camie's taken off again.'

'No.' Shinso shakes his head. 'I know it's hard for you to think beyond yourself sometimes, but there's more than just one woman in this piss-poor little gang of ours capable of playing a darling Duke's daughter.'

Setting himself back down in his chair, Sero sighs. He digs a knuckle into his eye. 'Make sure she's ready for the first touch tomorrow morning. I don't want us to spend any longer on this than we have to.'

With mock decency, Shinso folds himself over in a low bow before standing and stretching out his shoulders. 'Certainly... Now, I'll leave you to your moping, my Lord. Feel free not to trouble us while you're constitution has you acting so pathetic.' A wide grin takes his lip, but before Sero can think of rising from his chair in another fit of anger, Shinso tosses the paper weight straight at his head. 'Catch.'

Snatching the stone from the air, Sero flips it over in his palm exposing the rough outline of a broken heart and a crude crying stick figure on his knees beside it. He's too slow as he hefts it back at the now closed door of his office.

Shinso's footsteps retreat, echoing around the cold stone of the corridor beyond; his low laughter following close on his heels. Sero slams a fist on his desk. 'Fucking bastard!'

'The Queen of Thieves has -.' Kirishima wobbles as he descends the stairs into the kitchen, you in his arms, with only Tetsutestu's hand on the broad of his shoulders to stop him from toppling over.

'For the love of -.' Bakugo hisses. Spinning around from his post in front of the stove, he digs a fist into his hip and glowers. 'Keep it down.'

Tipping you out of his arms, Kirishima slinks toward Bakugo. His head dips, cheeks glowing soft as he slips his arms around the smaller man and plants a kiss on his cheek. 'Sorry, baby...'

'He might be sorry...' Skipping up to the large, oak dining table set central in the room you unhook a large, bulging coin purse from your shoulder and empty it out onto the table. Coins of gold and silver clatter onto the wood, flowing from the bag until the entire surface of the table shines. '… But, I'm not. We're celebrating.'

Bakugo's eyebrows dip. 'You ran a score.'

'We did.' You beam. 'Stole a bunch of machine parts from Ingenium's.'

'Ingenium's is protected by the League.' Venom drips into Bakugo's voice, his teeth grinding as he levels a spoon with your head. He's about to shout, the vein in his temple already bulging, but before he manages to bark, you're grinning.

'And -' You lift a palm to stop him. 'When poor little Tenya wakes up in the morning and discovers that his four gold pieces a week to the League hasn't stopped his precious shop from being turned over, he's going to look elsewhere and who else do we know who has a reputation for keeping thieves away?'

Bakugo tries not to let it show, but pride makes his chest puff out and his eyes shine. 'I should be mad that you're whoring my boyfriend out as hired muscle...'

'But...' Your eyebrows dance on your forehead. 'But, you've just put the biggest score I've seen all year on that bloody table -.'

Kirishima pecks at Bakugo's cheek again, twisting from where he had been dipping his fingers in the bubbling soup on the stove behind his boyfriends back. 'Don't forget the bank notes. We've got bank notes too...'

A snort breaks from Bakugo's chest. '… And guaranteed us another solid four gold a week, so -.'

This time it's Tetsutetsu who breaks into Bakugo's speech. 'We put our prices up two weeks ago. It's eight pieces now. Seemed fitting since there's two of us; an not just one bruiser like the other gangs are offering.'

This time Bakugo does laugh. He throws his head back, shoulders bouncing as he slips from Kirishima's hold and stalks towards you. Opening his arms, he wraps himself around your waist and lifts, spinning you around once before letting you back to your feet. 'If I were into women I'd kiss you breathless, you little fucking genius.'

You giggle and lace your hands behind his neck. 'I'd love to take all the credit, but -.'

'But she was the mastermind behind it all...' Kirishima beams. 'We just stood by and looked scary.'

Tetsutetsu offers. 'We helped lift the machine parts too!'

'It was a joint effort.' You concede, letting Bakugo drift back to the stove, after ordering the boys to set the table.

'What's this?' Shinso appears at the bottom of the basement stairs like a ghost. His hair is wild, torn back as if he'd been caught in a gale and the usual bags under his eyes are deeper and more pronounced.

You look up, half way through scooping another handful of coin back into your pouch. 'A score.'

Leveling you with a bored stare, Shinso raises his eyebrows. 'I'd gathered that much. I was -.'

'Ingeniums.' Bakugo cuts in. 'They can explain over dinner. Sit.'

Shinso obliges, slipping into a seat at the table. 'I have news of Mina.'

That perks everyone's ears.

Producing a letter from his inner jacket pocket, he brandishes it in the air. 'She seems to be enjoying the sea air down south, says she's learned a lot from Midnight.'

Bakugo snatches the letter, quickly skimming through the neatly written hand. He hums. 'Established some links with the Mirko company – could be useful.'

Reading over his shoulder, Kirishima snatches the letter as soon as Bakugo's eyes reach the bottom. 'I miss her.'

'Me too.' You sigh. 'She'll only be gone another month...'

'And we can welcome her back with a score.' Shinso grins, his crooked teeth nipping gently at his lower lip.

Eyebrows furrowing, you glance around the table. 'But -.'

'You're to the play the Duke's daughter instead.'

'I -.' Part of you wants to argue, but you know there's no point. There's only one reason that you're to take the roll of the Duke's daughter, after all.

'I'll take a look at the dresses tomorrow, see what we've got that fits... I can always adjust one of Camie's.' Bakugo offers.

The conversation dissolves then, the room filling with plans and laughter as the bowls we're cleared away and a plate of freshly baked cookies took their place on the table. Bathing in the revelry of having the crew, mostly, all together, you barely notice as the sun begins to slip from the sky leaving the kitchen soaked in the soft glow of lamp light. It isn't until Bakugo yawns, declaring it bedtime, that everyone begins to slowly make their way to their retrospective rooms.

Bakugo heads off first, Kirishima dutifully in toe behind him as they slip into one of the backrooms where a small, stuffed mattress awaited them.

Shortly after Tetsutetsu turns in, slipping into a his coat and swiping a singular golden coin from the stash as he trots back up the stairs, presumably on his way to find something comely to warm his bed for the night.

Lastly, it's Shinso, who offers you a knowing look when you dish out one last portion of soup and dutifully turn towards the upper bedrooms.

He rolls up his sleeves and sighs before dipping them into the soapy water filling the sink, listening as your steps echo as you climb. No-one comments on the empty chair at the head of the table.

Wrapping your knuckles on the office door, you balance the soup dish on your wrist while trying to shove open the door he's evidently jambed shut. Sometimes, you really do wish he where less fickle.

'I brought you food...' Your voice is low, sweet in the back of your throat as you edge into the room and spot him laying on his bunk.

'You didn't come down for dinner.'

Sero grunts, not moving his eyes from the ceiling. 'I'm not hungry.'

'Hanta... You can't keep doing this to yourself. You've barely a week of starvation in you and we're coming up on day three.'

'Just leave me.'

'Listen, I know -.'

'Know?' He sits up then, eyes burning as he fights the tick in his jaw.

'Please. Tell me what you fucking know...' Tongue licking at his back teeth he growls, spitting his words at your feet. 'You're probably loving this, aren't you? She's gone. I'm as good as bloody kept now, aren't I.'

'I don't.'

'Don't act stupid, Dearest.' He coos, but there's no fondness in his tone. 'I know how you look at me. Gods, if I all, but stretched out here and welcomed you to bed I bet you'd ride me out of sheer desperation while I laid back and thought of her.' A murky laugh bubbles in his throat as he cocks his head to one side, legs spreading in mocking invitation. 'That brother of mine seems to enjoy sharing his pallet with you often enough, maybe you're in want for a change of cock.'

Cocking your hip, you dig a fist into the fat there. Your nails dig into your palm, carving out raw half-cresents in the skin. 'Have you finished?'

'Ha. Have you been practicing that? If I'm inclined to forget half of my life, you're almost a semi-decent imitation.'

'I know you're hurting, Hanta. All's I'm asking is that you -.'

'You really shouldn't try so hard, y'know... To be her. Take it from a mummer himself, you'll never come close to the real thing.'

'I'm not trying to be her. It's you who wants that, Hanta. Not me. If she where me, she'd be the one stood here trying to stop you from starving yourself to death like a pathetic divorcee and I'd be off somewhere else doing God only fucking knows what...' You collect yourself, if only just and place the bowl on the floor at your feet. 'Now eat. One good meal won't get in the way of you being love-sick.'

Turning on your heel, you bite your lip. It's all you can do to stop the tears. The marks on your palm sting, but even that is a dull comparison to the claw marks now inflicted across your heart. You've barely reached the bottom step when you hear it, a scuffling that gets your hopes up, before a loud bang shatters them once more. You don't bother to hear what is muttered in the dark after it, you don't care to know.

'He's a mean bastard...' You whisper to yourself, violently clearing your face before stepping foot back in the kitchen.

Shinso is still there where you left him, a pile of newly clean plates by his side.

'Sorry for abandoning the chores.' You force a smile, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt as you prepare to dip them into the sink. Shinso just chuckles. He dips a new plate into the water and hisses.

'S'nothing. He still acting like a kicked puppy?'

''fraid so... Matter of fact.' Pulling your hands back before they hit water, you pluck another bowl from the cupboard and set about spooning out another helping of soup from the pot still bubbling on the stove. 'Would you mind taking him up another dish? He won't take anything from me and I'm pretty sure I heard him toss the last down the stairs. I'm rather hoping you'll have more luck.' Once the bowl is full, you slip it onto the table and reach for a loaf of bread.

Cracking it in half, you lay it on a plate. 'I'll finish up here.'

'I -.' Shinso sighs, wiping his hands on a chequered rag.

'It's fine, really.'

There it is, that forced smile again. Shinso chews the inside of his mouth.

'We're already a hand down tonight, what's one more? It's been a while since I've had the kitchen to myself.'

'As his brother, it pains me to say this, but he really isn't worth half of the trouble.' He takes the dishes from the table and cocks an eyebrow at you as you busy yourself with the ones already in the sink.

You laugh, snorting before shooting Shinso an equally as amused look. 'Says the man who routinely puts himself in harms way for said brother.'

'That's different.' He deadpans. 'He's never picked up a habit of making me cry.'

You drop the dish in your hands. 'I'm not -.'

Now, it's Shinso's turn to snort. 'I know how long it takes to get from here to his room and back again and you where about ten minutes too long, even with all the vile things I can guess he spat at you. Plus...' He reaches up and smooths his knuckles across the curve of your cheekbone. 'Your cheeks are red.'

'I -.'

'I'll take him the soup, but I'm doing it for you. He could starve for a week longer for all I care.'

'Thank you, 'Toshi.'

'You're one of us. We look after our own...' He grinds his teeth, tipping his head. 'Or at least, we're supposed to.'

Sero rolls his eyes as soon as soon as the door is kicked open. He's laid back on his bunk, arms folded underneath his head, eyes trained carefully on one particularly large spot of mould on the ceiling. 'Just because a different man holds the spoon, doesn't mean I'm more likely to eat'

Not bothering to pause, Shinso marches across the room in barely two strides. 'Just as well I haven't brought you a spoon then, isn't it?' He tips the bowl onto Sero's exposed stomach.

Sero yells, scolded.

'You, Sero Hanta, are the biggest cock I've ever fucking met.'

Wincing through the radiating burn, Sero manages to huff out a cocky snort. 'Why, thank you.'

'She's just trying to help'

'Well I don't fucking need it.' Reaching under his bed, Sero snatches up his discarded nightshirt to clean the spill from his skin. 'Nor, do I need you soiling my bed clothes.'

'Be glad it's just soup.'

Sero opens his mouth to speak, but is quickly silenced again by his brothers glare.

'You break her little heart twice a day and she doesn't trouble you with it and yet, every time Cam runs off – somehow it's her that bares the brunt.' Shinso folds his arms across his chest. 'She's a nice girl, Hanta... She's family.'

'Ah, so you are fucking her after all.' He chuffs. 'What is it? Jealous she's still got a taste for my cock?'

A growl builds in the back of Shinso's throat, the muscle in his jaw flaring as he grinds his teeth. 'I'm going to pretend to have misheard what you're attempting to insinuate for your own fucking good... Get a grip of yourself before I have to knock some sense into your myself.'

'Consider me fully scolded.' Sero clicks his tongue. 'Is that all you came here to do?'

'She's done your half of the washing and made preparations for tomorrow night; thought you could do with a few nights off. So you can mope here all week for all anyone gives a shit.'

Sero sits up at that, his eyes wide. 'She's supposed to be doing the first touch tomorrow -.'

'And she's still offered to do your half of the choring... ' Shaking his head, Shinso sighs. 'She's more than you deserve. That's for damn sure. Without her, we'd fall apart.'

Sero pauses. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he swings his legs over the side of his bed and sits up. 'Is there anymore soup?'

'Yeah.' Shinso chuckles, gesturing the bed. 'In a puddle on your blanket by the look of it... If you want a fresh bowl, you'll have to get it yourself.' He strides off towards the door, but stops at the door to turn back over his shoulder. 'And you best be as gracious as a fucking priest when you do.'

The water is scolding your hands. Your wrists have vanished, lost below the soapy bubbles as you fish for the last bits of cutlery lost in the sink. Behind you, the stairs creek making the muscles of your back tense even as you try to keep your shoulders relaxed. Maybe it's the years you've lived together, or the fact that your heart skips a beat each time you hear him, but there's no mistaking the foot falls for anyone other than Sero Hanta.

He appears, shirtless, at the foot of the stairs, but doesn't press into the kitchen.

You ignore him. Focusing instead on the burning of your hands as you pluck a fork from the water and begin to clean it.

Sero clears his throat.

Still, you clean.

He sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets before approaching the stove. Lifting the lid of the pot, he inhales through the steam that leaps from inside. 'Do you mind if I -.'

Turning, you absently pass him a bowl. 'There's still some clean spoons in the draw.'

'Thank you.'

You nod.

Spooning a decent helping of soup into a bowl, Sero takes his time choosing a spoon. It's mindless work, a waste of time as his mind whirrs – trying frantically to come up with something, anything to say to you.

The thing is, Shinso's right. You are more than he deserves and then some, but he's never been good with sweet things. That's why him and Cammie work so well.

They don't.

With you, there would be the possibility of a future. One that involves a quiet life, without crimes and games, a small house and weekly breakfasts with Bakugo and Kirishima, fuck... Children, a pretty little stone shining on your delicate finger.

He could give you all of that, but he can't give you what he knows you really crave.

He doesn't turn around when he speaks, instead, he hangs his head and talks to cream of his soup. 'You know I wish it were different...'

'It isn't that hard not to be a cunt, Hanta.'

'You know what I mean.' He winces.

You chuckle, but its a cruel noise that trickles off of your lips. 'So what is it? You wish I didn't yearn for your affections, or that you loved me like you love her?'

'Yes, well...'

Yanking your hands from the water, you splay your palms on the cold surface beside the sink. You're used to this, the numbness that so often overtakes you. The knowledge of your unrequited affection is like a balm, a prickling salve that serves not to sooth, but to prolong your suffering.

If you were able to let go, you would have, but you've loved him since you first laid eyes on him all those years ago when two scared children had come together for scarce more than survival.

'I sound bitter, I didn't mean -.'

He chuckles. 'You did. It's okay. I think that might be the normal thing.'

'What?'

'To hate me. To, to -.'

Your eyebrows furrow, your heart giving out in your chest as you consider a world in which his assumption might me true. 'I don't hate you.'

Turning finally, Sero leans back against the wooden surface of the kitchen counter. He licks his lips. 'You should.'

You lift your head, twisting until you can look at him.

At first glance, you'd be forgiven to think that his eyes were black, but on closer inspection, or under the right light, the faint, deep chocolate of his iris' shimmer – soaking up the light around each of his blown pupils. Now, with them trained on you, you're allowed to bask until you lose your nerve. Dropping your gaze, you tangle your fingers with one another. 'I could never.'

A sadness washes over him. 'You'd be better off finding refuge under Kaminari or Monoma.'

'Hardly a satisfactory refuge...' You chuckle, letting the noise lighten your mood.

He shares in your laughter, before allowing the sound to die on the back of his throat. Turning back to the counter, he palms the bowl of soup and slips a spoon into his pocket.

In two short steps he stops in front of you. His spare hand reaches out, curling around your shoulder. The tips of his fingers dig gently into the flesh and muscle covering your shoulder blade as his thumb smooths over the dip of your collarbone: caressing. Your skin blooms for him, heat rising through you as you allow yourself to think of all the other touches he could gift you, but any further thought is silenced as the gentle press of his lips touches to your forehead. Lingering, his lips hover barely a millimetre above his kiss.

'You deserve better than me.' He whispers it into your hair line before stepping away.

You feel the chill of him leaving, feeling an odd sense of abandonment and longing settle bone deep inside of you as he crosses back across the kitchen, towards the stairs. He's talking, but you don't quite register the words, not even as he calls your name.

'Forget the touch tomorrow. We'll scrap the job. It was a terrible plan anyway...' He hums. 'I think I should take some time away, let Bakugo and Shinso handle things for a while, maybe.'

He's gone, almost at his room, you'd guess by the time you leave your trance. Your fingertips find his kiss, touch gently against the skin there and feel the warmth of his lips as it slips, absorbed by your skin.

You smile.

He might not be able to give you what you want, what you crave. But, you'll always have this.

A singular, sorrow-filled kiss.

He tugged open the passenger side door and slid in, a huge smile on his face, and for a second that same guilty feeling washed over you. You were glad you were high, that would make this easier for you.

“Hey babe, what’d you have to tell me,” he asked, looking at your lips. You noticed where he was looking and instantly knew what he wanted. You took another drag from your blunt and then passed it over to Sero, exhaling and watching the smoke leave your lungs. He smiled and gladly took it from you, reaching over to peck your cheek, but you shifted in your seat and he backed off, a confused look on his face.

“Sero,” you started, making sure that you had his attention. “I’m breaking up with you.”

It took him a solid minute to register what you said, and when he did his face dropped into an extremely disappointed expression. He laughed awkwardly, trying to laugh off the tears that he could feel building up.

“Wait what?” He asked, sitting up straight and looking you in the eyes.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“But...why?” his voice cracked and you flinched when you heard the increasing amount of hurt in his voice. You took a deep breath and watched him as he wiped the tears from his stinging eyes.

“Nothing’s fun Sero, not like before.” Your voice was a whisper and for a second you regretted even coming over to his house.

“Y/n I can be better! I can make things fun for you,” there was a certain type of desperation in his voice, a type that made you want to reach out to him and give him a comforting touch before you left him forever.

“No Sero you can’t, you just...don’t get me high anymore.”

---

stop i love sero ugh

Masterlist!!

you'll say, "japan just isn't ready for a hero like me," and you'll be right, because no one could be ready for you. hanta knows that. he's okay with that, but not okay with you leaving. but you're not leaving yet, so there isn't much to worry about, at least not now. time permits hanta a little breathing room, just this once. until it doesn't anymore.

it's a dreadful thing, time, is what hanta believes, because time stops for no one and nothing. not hatred, not passion, and definitely not love. not the love cultivated of a almost thousand lifetimes to want a single being, you, in his presence. time doesn't give a damn, space doesn't give a damn, no one does, so its no surprise to hanta when time starts moving a bit faster than he likes.

three days. three more godforsaken days until the love of his life, the only one who chose to understand him, the only person in this city who saw more than a plain face and a bag of unsolved insecurities leaves, taking his heart with them. taking his sweaters with them. taking his motivation with them. he wakes you out of your slumber as he sobs, muffled cries hidden in the sleeves of a brown sweater that smells of coffee, book paper, and now, the wet tears of an emotionally exhausted boy.

"hanta," you had whispered, "why're you cryin'," rubbing the sleep from your eyes, concern growing on your face as he cries harder.

"you're," he heaves, "two days, you're leav-" he breaks into more tears, breaking his promise to himself. that hw wouldn't make you pity him, becuase this is for you. you're going to be an adult, you can do what you want. you want to go, so you should go.

"all things come to pass," you sigh, tears springing up almost out of nowhere, "with time."

you grab hanta with a vengeance, holding him like you'll never let go, like you're not leaving him behind in less than 48 hours. he sobs harder into you chest, muttering apologies that you silence over and over with kisses.