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she finds you in every crowd, texts you things she shouldn't, lingers longer than she should. you’re just doing your job — and still, she makes it feel like more.
pairing: caitlin clark x player!media!liason!reader
warnings: player injury, and thats about ittttt
word count: 2.2k
authors note: hiiiii, my first fic please bare with me 😩
you’re not supposed to be nervous. not anymore. you’ve done the intern phase, late nights editing footage on a folding table, scrambling to write captions with one bar of service in the tunnel. you’ve stood in the middle of a huddle with your camera pressed to your face, pretending your heart wasn’t racing from being shoulder-to-shoulder with the entire starting five.
but this is different. this time, your name’s printed on a lanyard that says player media liaison, and your phone buzzes with direct messages from agents, reporters, and, god help you, caitlin clark herself.
first day of training camp and she’d already texted. not anything huge. just:
caitlin clark: hey. what time do i have to be at the tunnel thing tmrw? also is it the black hoodie or the blue one lol
you’d stared at the message for longer than you’d admit. reread it. checked your spelling four times before replying.
you: 10:15 sharp. and black. always black.
caitlin clark: u sure? i feel like that blue one lowkey eats
you: black’s undefeated.
caitlin clark: fine. but if i look bad it’s on you lol
and then a follow-up, ten minutes later:
caitlin clark: also hi :)
you remember smiling at your screen. stupid, soft. something about the way she used the smiley like it meant more than “hi.”
training camp moved fast.
you were everywhere: lining up media kits, checking off shot lists, threading tiny microphones through jerseys, smoothing ponytails before post-practice interviews. you barely had time to breathe most days, but she noticed you.
not in a big way. not in a spotlight way. but in the way that mattered.
“you good?” she asked once, when you’d been crouched behind a baseline camera for half an hour, barely blinking. her voice low, close.
“fine,” you’d answered, too quickly.
she squinted at you like she didn’t quite believe you, then tossed you her towel. “hydrate or die-drate.”
you snorted. “that’s not—”
“don’t care. drink something.”
by the time the season opener hit, she was already in your phone under her name, with no emojis, no nickname, just caitlin, like she didn’t need anything else.
the texts were still mostly work.
caitlin: can we post that pic from warmups or will nike kill me
caitlin: which mic are we using today? the scratchy one hates me
caitlin: was i blinking in that video?? pls be honest
but they started getting longer. warmer. more… her.
caitlin: tbh idk if i’m ready for this game. not like nervous, just… off. idk. do i look off?
you’d looked at the photo before you posted it. it was her mid-laugh, eyes scrunched, jersey half-tucked. she looked real. human. strong.
you: no. you look like someone who knows exactly what she’s doing.
she replied with a heart. not an emoji. the word.
caitlin: heart.
the nights got longer after that. game days stretched into interviews, post-game content meetings, long van rides where you stayed up syncing audio. somewhere between shootarounds and media scrums, you started getting used to the way she lingered.
after warmups, she’d drift toward your side of the court.
after practice, she’d catch your eye before heading to the locker room.
after games, she’d scroll your story posts and dm you commentary:
caitlinclark22: why did u choose THAT one of me
caitlinclark22: i look 4’11
caitlinclark22: ok that one’s fire nvm
and then, one night:
caitlin: you see me in a way i don’t usually see myself. weird.
you didn’t know what to say to that. not right away.
but you typed:
you: not weird. just honest.
she didn’t respond until morning.
caitlin: thanks. means more than you know.
by week three, she wasn’t looking 100%.
you noticed it before anyone else said anything. not in the numbers, not on the box score. just in the way she moved—tight shoulders, shorter strides, wincing when she thought no one was watching.
“you good?” you asked, flipping your camera off between shots.
“totally,” she said. but then her voice dipped. “just sore. training camp still in my legs, i guess.”
you didn’t push. just handed her a water bottle.
caitlin: don’t post that tunnel fit pic btw. i look stiff af
you: just rest, caitlin. the real ones don’t care about stiff arms.caitlin: do you?
you: no.
and you meant it.
now it’s mid-july. she’s officially listed as out. the feeds are swirling with speculation, and the locker room feels quieter without her on the court.
but your phone is louder.
caitlin: this sucks
caitlin: i hate watching. hate sitting. i feel like i’m letting everyone down
caitlin: you. you’re stuck with the boring injured version of me
you’d sent back:
you: i’m not stuck. i’m here. big difference.
and she didn’t answer right away. not like usual. you’d gone to bed thinking maybe you said too much. maybe you crossed the invisible line.
but when you woke up:
caitlin: you’re the only part of this job that doesn’t feel heavy right now.
caitlin: just thought you should know.
you’re at shootaround with your camera. she’s on the bench in sweats and a brace. the gym feels different—slower, like it’s waiting for something.
you pan your lens across the baseline, catching players in motion, sneakers squeaking, voices echoing. and then you feel it before you see it, eyes on you.
she’s looking again. not just looking. watching.
you lower your camera.
she lifts a hand. just two fingers. a quiet wave. her smile soft, like she knows something you haven’t said yet.
your phone buzzes.
caitlin: do i look okay? i feel like a ghost in these gray sweats lol
you glance up at her.
you: you look like yourself. that’s more than okay.
this time, she doesn’t text back.
she just holds your gaze.
and for the first time all week, you don’t need a screen to hear her.
there’s a rhythm to the work now.
you get good at knowing where to stand. when to shoot. how to be invisible and still the one caitlin looks for.
sometimes it’s catching the light off her cheek when she turns toward the tunnel. sometimes it’s holding her gaze just long enough before lifting the camera. she’s started sending a few of the photos to her mom. you know because she tells you, unprompted, one afternoon during media day when you’re kneeling to fix her mic and she doesn’t stop talking even after you’re done.
“my mom says you make me look sweet,” she says, soft around the mouth. “not just tough.”
you laugh, because she is tough. anyone who’s watched her play knows that. but in this moment, she’s all long lashes and a nervous glance at your hand still brushing her collar.
you step back too quickly. “well. i’ll take the compliment.”
the next day, she dm’s you a picture someone on the media team reposted from training camp. it’s a behind-the-scenes photo—meant to show off the staff, but you’re in the background, crouched low by the sideline, adjusting a camera lens. intense. tunnel-visioned. unaware.
caitlinclark22: look how serious you are.
yourinstausername: i’m focused.
caitlinclark22: you’re cute.
you stare at the message for ten minutes before answering. she doesn’t unsend it. doesn’t take it back. just reacts to your reply with a heart and sends a tiktok an hour later.
you start keeping her contact pinned.
the injury happens quiet. in slow motion. you don’t even see it. you’re on the opposite end of the court, fiddling with a camera battery. but there’s that sharp hush of the gym, the sound of shoes stopping too fast, the way bodies cluster without celebration.
you spot her on the bench later, arms crossed, jaw tight. she avoids every trainer’s eye, every camera lens.
until you crouch down next to her.
“you okay?” you whisper.
her eyes are a little glassy. her voice is steady, but barely. “i’ll live.”
you don’t say anything, just stay there until someone calls your name. before you walk away, she nudges her water bottle toward you.
later that night, your phone buzzes.
caitlin: sorry i was short today.
you: you weren’t.
caitlin: i just hate sitting still.
you: i know.
caitlin:…you looked nice today. you always do.
you read that one twice, maybe three times. your fingers hover.
you: you sure you’re not concussed?
caitlin: if i was i’d probably be texting you worse things tbh.
you cover your face with your hands.
you don’t sleep for hours.
there’s a week where you hardly see her on the court.
she’s rehabbing quietly. walking slower. the only time she seems animated is when someone tells her to take it easy and she doesn’t want to.
you’re helping set up postgame content when she finds you behind the scenes, jacket half-zipped, hair damp from the shower.
“can you walk with me?” she says, like it’s simple. like you haven’t been avoiding staring at her hands all week.
you nod.
you don’t say anything until you’re both out back behind the arena, where no one goes except staff and players who want a cigarette and silence.
“they think i’m fragile now,” she says, eyes on the ground. “i hate it.”
“you’re not,” you answer. “you’re just… healing.”
“that’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
you shake your head. “it means you’re still here. still going. fragile is something that breaks and stays broken.”
she looks at you like she’s never heard anything kinder.
and then, so quietly it barely registers, “thanks.”
she doesn’t let go of your sleeve until someone texts her to come back inside.
the bus pulls in late, and the air feels too heavy for july. you're already sweating through your fever media tee when the equipment cart tips and a tripod crashes to the pavement. no one laughs. no one really talks.
you check your phone once, then again.
nothing from her.
you’ve learned not to expect it, she disappears into herself sometimes, especially when things go quiet. when her body won’t do what it’s told and her name is still on the back of every jersey in the crowd.
they announce it right before warmups: out tonight. precautionary.
you’re crouched baseline, adjusting the focus on a new lens, when you hear it. a chorus of groans, murmurs, something bitter beneath the buzz. you don’t look up right away. don’t need to. you already know.
you spot her on the bench in warmups, legs crossed at the ankle, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows like they itch. she doesn’t glance at the camera once.
it’s the first time in weeks you haven’t caught her looking.
and still, your lens finds her.
during the anthem. during opening tip. during a timeout where she chews on her thumbnail and doesn’t clap when the team huddles.
later, when the lights are too bright and the court is too quiet, a photographer from the league posts a shot of the fever media team setting up in tunnel lighting. you’re in the corner of it, blurred, halfway through clipping a mic onto someone’s jersey.
your phone buzzes.
caitlin: look at you. all official.
you don’t expect it. not with how the day’s gone.
you type something, erase it. type again.
you: thought you weren’t looking today.
a pause.
caitlin: i was.
another.
caitlin: you looked mad focused. tunnel-vision.
you smile a little, chewing the inside of your cheek.
you: i was just doing my job.
caitlin: you’re cute when you’re working.
this time, you don’t wait ten minutes to reply.
you: stop flirting with me while you’re benched.
caitlin: i can’t run so i have to shoot my shot somehow.
your hands shake a little.
after the game, she’s quiet in the back hallway, arms tucked inside her sleeves. she’s barely said a word during postgame. but when you pass her, she hooks a finger in your backpack strap.
“walk me out?”
you nod. hand already halfway to hers.
outside, the sky’s gone violet-blue. everything smells like concrete and heat and summer that won’t let up. she kicks a pebble with her good foot, scowls.
“the worst part is sitting through it,” she mutters. “knowing i could be playing.”
you glance sideways. “you’re still part of it.”
“doesn’t feel like it.”
she slows. looks at you. then, quieter:
“you always make me feel like i’m still in it.”
you blink. “what do you mean?”
“you show me the good stuff. even when i’m not moving right. even when i feel like i’m wasting space. your pictures… they make me feel like me.”
you don’t know what to say to that.
so you don’t say anything. just let your hand brush hers once, twice, until she links your pinkies like it’s instinct.
you sit in her silence for a while.
it’s not the good kind, not yet. but she lets you stay there anyway.
you walk her to the car.
before she leaves, she looks back over her shoulder. “hey.”
“yeah?”
“don’t take any ugly pictures of me on the bench.”
“i never do.”
she smiles. then, as if it costs her something:
“send me one?”
you do, right after she drives away.
she replies with a heart. then a voice memo.
you don’t play it for another hour.
when you do, it’s her voice, soft and cracking a little, like she recorded it in one breath:
“She has probably one of the best shots I’ve ever seen— like it’s just so pure and so pretty. I know she’s not coming out this year but next year she’s gonna be pretty high in my draft board.”
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I feel like we all know Bakugo is a short-tempered guy, but I can't help thinking that when you two start dating, the fact that you're calmer helps him not feel so on edge all the time. This, which at first is a cute trait that literally surprises everyone, now becomes a tool for your group of friends who basically turn to you whenever they have bad news to tell him. They know he'll at least spare you.
"Why do I have to do this again?" you ask, rolling your eyes. Mina walks beside you and sighs.
"Because he won't get mad at you. If Denki or I tell him we failed the only task he gave us, there won't be enough Recovery Girl to save us."
Fair.
So, reluctantly, and because deep down you wanted to see your boyfriend, you found yourself straddling his lap on his bed, your hands buried in his hair and his on your waist. What had started as a normal afternoon date on his room ended in an impromptu make-out session, and between kisses, you finally broke the news. "By the way, the food you left on the counter fell."
Katsuki frowns. "It...fell?" Your fingers play with the pointy strands and for a few seconds he looks confused rather than angry.
"Yep," you nodded, slowly running your hands down what you could reach of his back, tracing the outline of his muscles. He placed a kiss on your neck, which then turned into another, and another, until he pulled back slightly to speak.
"Okay, so when you say 'it fell,' you mean those extras dropped it, right?" You could feel his little smile against the skin of your neck.
"I mean… yeah, but they insisted I tell you, something about… not getting mad at me. We can just order a delivery" you commented, letting out a giggle as he buried his face in your neck, tickling you. "Don't be too harsh on them."
"Mhm…" He lifted his head and looked at you for a few seconds. "I won't," he promised. "Besides, there's something else I have in mind for dinner right now," and with a swift movement, he turned you, making you lie down beneath him.
sigghhh i want him bad. ik this is silly but :3
3 posts in 2 days? you can tell i'm in the middle of my finals week, anywaysss send help.
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M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : 5.5k words
Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends?
Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any)
Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.
"Photos have been released, of the two of you," you shared a look with Katsuki from across the table, "Together. At the camping resort you went to this previous weekend."
Katsuki's PR manager was in front of you. Arms placed on the table as she clasped her hands together. Face stern and hair slicked back into a ponytail. The definition of professional. The opposite of what you looked and felt right now. You've been sweating your ass off since you got told to come in.
"Are you sure they know it was us?" Katsuki fixed his posture, sitting up straight for the answer to his question. The two of you haven't necessarily came forward with your relationship, but you haven't been hiding it. Still, you preferred to not be public. Mainly to protect your work, everyone would discredit you if they knew you had personal ties to the number two pro hero that led beyond friendship. But also because you knew the danger, you were targeted enough as his best friend.
"Yes," she said bluntly.
"Maybe they didn't see me?" you voiced your hope aloud.
"Look, they know it was the both of you," she sighed, "We need to focus on how to fix this. It needs to be address before it gets worse, and it will get worse, so I suggest acting now."
"Can I see the fucking pictures?" Katsuki ordered, sick and tired of not knowing entirely what's going on.
She clicked away at her keyboard, turning her laptop to face you two. "This was posted by a couple that were there," she showed the photo Katsuki took with the couple that almost caught you at the pond. "And this," she clicked to a photo that showed the lake, "was posted as well. You can clearly see Chargebolt, Red Riot, and Cellophane. And in the background it is also easy to see the two of you being," she coughed, "intimate. They've been able to connect the dots that it was you that he was kissing," she looked at you, "With your connection with their class."
Your stomach dropped. Words just fell from your brain. You were used to the press but not for these reasons. Mainly just for your work, or how you made all number one, two and three top heros support gear and costumes.
"So what the fuck should we do?" Katsuki crossed his arms, face scrunched in thought.
"We need you to make a statement," she paused, prepared for Katsuki to snap. He hated making statements. When all he did was nod, she continued, "We need to do this quick before rumors catch wind." Both you and her were glad that he wasn't being difficult about this.
"What rumors can even be made?" you were curious how bad the drawback could be, trying to see if you could lessen the stress for you and Katsuki.
She looked at you, an apology on her face already, "It is already being said that you are using him to get to Deku, wanting to get the best pro heroes under you." You physically winced. "It is also being said you are cheating on Deku with Dynamight."
Katsuki scoffed, rooling his his eyes as he threw his hands up, "So what the fuck do I say? This is bullshit."
"I've arranged a interview for tonight, they'll ask about it there and you will give as much truth as you want. Talk about how long you've dated and the bond you two have, you need a united front," She explained, "Deku needs to also make a statement that you have not had any romantic relations," she turned to you.
"Of course, I'll call him now," you stood up from your chair, grabbing your phone. Knowing that he was terrible with emails and likely wouldn't notice anything happened until it was too late for the press. Too focus on crime and other heroic things.
"Good, tell him to do it as soon as possible," she instructed.
You squeezed Katsuki's shoulder on your way out, leaving him to discuss about what to talk about in the interview.
Dialing Izuku's number the second you closed the door, walking towards the stairway so you could walk off the stress as you made your way to Katsuki's office, the next floor up.
He answered when you opened the door to the stairway, "Whatssup?"
"I need a favor," you immediately started with.
"What's wrong," he asked concerned. You could hear the wind blowing through his phone, he was likely jumping his way back his office.
"Could you do an interview tonight or something?" you walked up the stairs while talking to him, letting your body move on autopilot and lead the way to Katsuki's office.
"For what?"
"Katsuki's and my relationship got leaked, picture proof and everything," you confessed, "Now there's rumors that I'm cheating on you or some shit." You ran the hand that wasn't holding the phone through your hair. Before dropping it to open the stairway door, keeping your head down as you walked through the office.
"So I need to clear the air?" he concluded, you could hear him land on a building, taking a break from jumping.
"Yes, please," you sighed, "Just talk about how we're best friends. I don't think you have to do an interview, I think a social post might help, ask your manager."
"Of course, I'm happy to help," he smiled, "How are you and Kacchan doing?"
"I'm a little rattled, I didn't think this would happen," you opened the door to Katsuki's office, briefly waving to his manager. "I don't know how Katsuki is doing, he's still with his PR manager."
Izuku laughed nervously, "He's going to kill me."
"It's not your fault," you reassured, "he knows how crazy the internet is." You stood in front of the window, it was a floor to ceiling window that captured the view of the city perfectly. "Uraraka won't be mad right?" you asked, you've never been close to her but you knew her and Z were together.
"No, she'll understand," Izuku confirmed.
"Good, I would of felt horrible," the weight on your shoulders was slowly lifting.
"Well, I should talk to my manager about what to do," Izuku said his goodbyes before he hung up.
It was only Tuesday and your week was already shit. Barely got through lunch before his manager told you to meet with PR. The city was still buzzing with life, unbothered by how much yours was changing. It felt weird, to know each of the small humans from this distant, had their own life and motivation.
"Hey."
You jumped from your spot near the window, "Asshat," you said clutching your heart.
"How are you doing?" Katsuki stepped into the office, letting the door fall shut as he walked to stand beside you.
"I've been better, you?" you looked at him, his face was still scrunched with thought.
"I'm annoyed," he said plainly, "The one fucking time we kiss in public and it's everywhere."
He crossed his arms, his elbow slightly bumping you from where he stood. You hummed your agreement, "When's your interview?" The both of you were looking out the window, trying to puzzle together how to avoid the drawback.
"Right after work, with fucking Heroes' Gossip," he grumbled.
"I'm sorry," you apologized, knowing how much he hated every part of this.
"Was gonna happen eventually," he sighed, "Is that nerd gonna help?"
You nodded, "Yeah, he might make a social media post or something, I told him to listen to his manager."
"Good," he said plainly, letting the conversation end.
Everything was going to change now, it'd be impossible to go back to normal now. With the grief of your old life already setting in, you rested your head on his shoulder. He'd be the one stable thing, even if it got rocky.
---
You had the interview pulled up on the TV, waiting for Heroes' Gossip to introduce him. They've been teasing a surprise guest the entire show, waiting until the last few minutes to bring him on. You've been dealing with the show for the past 40 minutes with no sign of him. It was nice to watch for once though, but it felt like you were intruding on some of the topics. They brought up Mirko's lovers and then talked about spotting Best Jeanist in and out of the hospital, automatically assuming he had a horrible disease. It made you feel gross to watch.
Wondering into the kitchen you grabbed a glass of wine, wanting something to help make the show a little less painful.
When you sat back down they finally announced for Katsuki to come on. Having him grumpily stomp on set until he sat down near the obnoxious interviewer.
"So, Dynamight," she addressed him head on, "There's been some photo's leaked of you and the tech genius," she announced your name to the world. You took a long sip, trying to shake the unease feeling for being known as someone who was with Dynamight rather than a tech genius. The interviewer displayed the pictures his PR manager showed you earlier on screen, "Is this you and her?"
"Yeah," he answered flatly.
"So you and her were making out at this lake, correct?" She pushed, surprised she got this far already.
"Yeah, what about it?" you could see that he was close to snapping, face furrowed entirely as his arms were crossed.
"Despite the claims of her and pro hero Deku being together?" the interviewer smiled, glad to see she was riling him up.
He rolled her eyes, "As if she'd date him."
"Is she not?"
"No, I've been dating her for three god damn years," he confessed to the public.
The interviewer blinked in surprise, quickly getting back onto the questions, "You're not concerned they are seeing each other behind your back?"
"I've known them both since I was five, they aren't like that," he answered simply.
"That also means that they have known each other that long, you're not worried about their connection?" she pushed for more, irritated that Katsuki wasn't lashing out like normal.
"Lemme prove it to you dumbasses," you cringed at his swearing, it wasn't good press for him to swear during interviews. He was grabbing his phone out of his pocket, quickly pressing buttons before he put the phone on speaker, letting everyone listen to it ring.
"Hey," Izuku's bubbly voice echoed through the mic.
"Are you fucking with my girlfriend?" Katsuki was straight to the point, likely not having warned Izuku of his plan before hand.
"No! Why would i do that?! You know that it is just the press going on right? Anything for a story-" before he could ramble on anymore, Katsuki hung up on him.
"See?"
"Well that doesn't prove much," the interviewer was at a lost for words at this point.
Knowing that Katsuki had a handle on this, you walked back to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. All the premade dinners were eaten already so you'd have to cook something from scratch. The voices from the TV faded from your mind as your rattled through the ingredients to use. Deciding on a fried rice. You pulled out the vegetables and placed them to the side as you set the rice to cook.
Your phone buzz and you answered without a thought, "Sup?"
"You fucking Deku?" you laughed at Katsuki's angry voice coming through your speaker. "Stop laughing dumbass."
"Sorry, I just saw you call him for the same thing. No, I am not. I'll say that on a truth quirk as well," you said absentmindedly cutting up the vegetables.
"Great! We'll have you come in soon to do just that," you heard the interviewer cheer though Katsuki's side of the phone.
Katsuki grumbled, "I'm fucking out of here." You could only assume he left the set, hearing him stomp off. "Hey dumbass," his voice was near the mic, clear he turned the call off speaker as his voice was quieter and less aggressive.
"Yeah?"
"That was stupid, my PR agent is going to scream at you."
"Why?"
"Going under a truth quirk on TV is dangerous, you know so much confidental shit," he explained.
"Oh fuck," you realized how much you could spill if someone asked about too much. You felt as if the genius quirk you had wasn't much help.
"I'll be home soon," he skipped past it, saving the conversation for when he could see you.
"Okay," you nodded despite him not being able to see you, "I'm making some fried rice by the way."
"Thanks, see ya."
"Bye."
You put your phone back down, grabbing the now cooked rice and mixing it with the vegetables in a pan. You looked over the mess of the kitchen. You dirtied an extra pan for eggs last second, knowing Katsuki loved the extra protein. Walking back to the living room, you grabbed the wine glass and filed it some more in the kitchen to drink as you mixed the rice.
The rice was getting to a good mixture, just needing to heat for a little longer, you grabbed the eggs and dumped them in with the rest of the rice and vegetable, setting the pan aside on the stove.
You heard the door knob slightly move, as if Katsuki was having issues with the key. You glanced at the time, he wouldn't be over for another ten or so minutes. Fear gripped at your chest. You moved the finished pan of rice to the corner of the stove, putting the empty pan on the heat.
Before you could think of anything else to do, you heard metal fall to the ground. Turning around quickly you saw the doorknob melting off with the remains of it on the floor.
Looking towards the figure in the doorway you saw a girl, around your age. Maybe a couple years older. She looked insane, it sent a chill up your spine at how similar her glare was to Toga's. Her eyes were a bright red, her hair a darker shade as she wore torn up clothes, burn holes all throughout. As if she just got out of a fight.
"The fuck are you doing?" you forced yourself to question.
"So you're the bitch Katsuki is dating?" she ignored your question.
"How did you get up here?" you knew that the apartment probably wasn't the most secure, but you and Katsuki never had time to move. Still, security was set in place. Blood dotted her outfit as well, the smell of burnt flesh radiating off her.
She ignored you again, stepping closer. "You know, Katsuki's going to love me right? Once your out of the picture."
You couldn't help the slight laugh that slipped from your lips. Maybe Katsuki's cocky energy affected you more than you thought.
Her eyes glowed, "That funny to you?"
She was about arms length away at this point, you reached your arm slowly behind you, grabbing onto the handle of the pan. "Kinda," you shrugged.
"Such a cunt," the girl all but screeched, eyes glowing red. From the damage on the doorknob it was clear she had some sort of heat vision. Before she could burn hole through you, you picked up the pan and swung at her. Burning the side of her face and causing her to stumble. Keeping yourself aware of her eyes, you reeled the pan back and hit her straight on, letting the edge of the pan fall into her eyes.
She quickly started to grab at you, cornering you into the stove, blinded by your hits but still intent on hurting you. Digging her nails into your arm. Scratching as she managed to grab ahold of your hand during her flailing around, forcing it down onto the hot stove and burning you.
Filled with a new rush of adrenalin, you grabbed onto her hair with your free hand, yanking her off your hand and pushing her face into the stove. You felt horrible as she screamed, your and her burnt flesh tainting the air with a foul smell. Ruining the stove top in the process. You scrambled away from her after holding her down for a moment, grabbing the knife you used the the vegetables only 20 minutes ago. Almost slipping due to the wine that was spilt from her flailing around the stove.
You stole a glance at the clock, still five more minutes till Katsuki was home. All you had to do was not die in those five minutes.
The girl was standing back up when you looked back at her. Face half burnt as she held a crazed look in her eyes.
"That knife won't do anything," she pushed, "I've done my research, you hardly have a quirk. Another reason you aren't worthy of him."
You weren't interested in talking to her, you just waiting for her next move. "You know, we could end this here. Just stop fighting and Katsuki will talk to you," you suggested, throwing the offer out to distract her.
"With you in the picture, he won't talk to me," she said frustratedly. Her eyes lighting up again, having recovered from the hit to them.
She aimed for your stomach, you move to the side and crouched, kicking at her locked knees, cringing at the snap of it. The hit on your stomach burned through a lot, the pain causing you to hold a hand on yourself. While you were trained to survive, you couldn't handle it. The blood, the pain, the guilt that already worked its way into your bones. She fell down with a yelp. Pulling you with her, before she could get her other hand on you, you stabbed one hand through a cabinet. You stood up as straight as possible, pressing your slipper covered foot onto her head, forcing her to face the cabinet and away from you. Placing your other foot onto her free hand so she couldn't grab at you.
You wheezed, clutching both hands at your side now, pain getting to you. The girl was crying now, "My face! He won't love me if I look deformed." Her heat vision flickered on and off, burning a hole through the bottom cabinet. Slowly destroying your home with Katsuki.
"Shut up," you hissed, stepping on her hand harder.
The injury was getting to you, it was mostly cauterized but her heat vision burned a good depth into your side.
Katsuki kicked the door fully open, snapping his head to look at you. You most of looked crazy. Wearing his shirt from high school, barely visible shorts, fuzzy Deku themed slippers and standing above a very injured girl while bleeding from the wound of your side.
He stepped towards you, lifting you off the girl and making you sit on the floor next to the door. "Cops were already called by the way," he answered your question before you thought of it. "They'll be up here soon." He walked back to the girl who was panting now, going into shock from the pain, something you think you shared with her. He cuffed her quickly, making her quirk shut off. You couldn't be more thankful that he wore his hero outfit home.
With the girl contained, he walked back to you, "Is it just your side?"
You nodded your head aggressively, in too much pain to form words. He lifted the side of your shirt, wincing before putting it back down. Moving to pick you up and carry you.
"I need to get you to the hospital," he claim.
"What about that girl?" you forced out, sucking in a deep breath after. Eyes getting fuzzy as you looked at him.
"She tired herself out," he confirmed, the girl passed out and you felt like doing the same. Eyes blinking without any of your control.
"Kats?"
"What?"
"It hurts," you were only speaking to stay awake, not wanting to scare him anymore then you knew he was.
"You'll be okay, I promise," his voice waivered as he moved through the hallways, you didn't even know where you were at this point. The background slowly turning into black until you blinked the rest of the image away.
---
Everything was too bright, too loud, too stale when you woke up. You couldn't even open your eyes but you were overwhelmed. You're mouth lacked any taste besides meticalic. Muffled voices came from somewhere in front of you, a room away likely. You braced yourself heavily before opening your eyes. Seeing Katsuki in a chair pulled up to your bedside, book in his left hand as his right hand held onto yours. Flipping a page by placing the book into his lap and using his left to flip it. Never once letting go.
The light blurred everything but him, you could only put together the fact that you were in the hospital. He was wearing his glasses, the ones he hardly wore unless he was stress. It was always harder for him to read when stressed, to lessen the strain, he wore the glasses.
"Bright," is what you decided to croak out, voice rough from sleep and likely screaming from the events. Everything was blurred already.
His basically jumped out of skin at the sound of your voice, letting the book fall from his lap as he stood up straight. Looking over you.
"Lights off," is what you groaned next, unable to keep your eyes open in the blare of it for long.
"Fuck sorry," he rushed to turn the light off before returning to your side. "How are you?"
You only looked around now, happy to be without the strain of the light. Your right hand was covered in bandages, from where the girl slammed it against the stove. With how bad it hurt, you worried for her face. Your left side was also heavily wrapped. She burned entirely through you, you remember how burned your walls were before you passed out. Multiple cabinets having holes in them. "Our home is all messed up," you focused on.
Katsuki let out a laugh, it was his laugh that showed you were being ridiculous, when you looked back up at him with a frown he returned it, "You can't be serious?"
"I am," you pouted, looking down at your hands, "She fucked it all up."
"Yeah and you put a dent in her for it," he followed.
"She put a dent in me too," you changed you focus to your stomach. Acknowledging the hole in your side
He gripped tighter onto the railing at the top of your hospital bed. "I had our stuff moved out," he spoke, saying he won't let that happened again without any words.
"Where will we live?" you looked back up at him.
"I bought it on a whim, the first day you were out," he looked apologetic, "I think you'll like it. Safer than that shithole."
You grabbed onto his hand, "Okay, anywhere is home with you."
"The drugs makin' ya loopy?" he smirk down at you, pointing fun at your cheesy line but holding onto your hand nonetheless, gripping on tighter.
"Maybe," you blushed, looking away for moment to think over the feeling. Drugs were definitely dampening the pain right now.
"How are you though? Took quite a hit," he looked at your stomach as well. It reminded you on how he first saw it, likely seeing straight through you. It's probably why he rushed you to the hospital right after.
"Hurts," you mumbled, not looking down but staring at him instead. Wanting your focus off the pain. Looking over how soft the glasses made him look. It was something you always wanted to admire but rarely got to. His face looked softer in the barely light room, just having the glow of the hallway lights shine in.
"Figures, you put up a fight."
"I almost died," you clarified.
"But you didn't," he was trying to focus on the positives, for both you and himself.
You recalled him saying the first day you were out earlier, "How long was I out?"
"Four days," he answered, "Not too long, you were just tired."
You hummed, "When can we go home?"
"I'd have to call the doctor in."
You nodded in permission for him to do so, letting him go alert them. With the quality of the room, you figured that he had you in a hero hospital.
The doctor walked in and asked you to stay an extra day, claiming a healing quirk will be able to help you before you left tomorrow. You reluctantly agreed, mainly from Katsuki cutting in and agreeing for you. It was obvious he felt guilt. From the way he held himself and the way he spoke.
When the doctor left, the two of you sat in silence. Soaking in each others presences.
"Is she okay?" you asked.
"Who?"
"Crazy bitch," you labeled her as.
He looked at you confused, "Yeah, in jail."
"So I didn't hurt her badly?" you were trying to relive some of the guilt.
"No, you did. Put a hole into her hand and burned her face," he confirmed, "Something you did to protect yourself."
"Then why do I feel bad?"
He sighed, grabbing at your hand again and looking you in your eyes, "Cause you always do, you'll probably feel guilty for a while. But trust me, you gave that bitch what she deserved and I'm so fuckin' glad you did."
"How's the press?" you switched topics. Not even remotely proud of yourself for burning a girl's face.
"Everything's settled, police still need your report though," he told you softly.
"Okay," you took in a deep breath, flinching at the pain going up your side. Ignoring Katsuki eyes looking at you in worry. Trying to patch your guilt away.
---
You peered through the apartment door after Katsuki unlocked it and walked through. Taking in the view of the apartment, a clear upgrade from the last. After kicking off your shoes you noticed the empty space to the right, a perfect spot for a living room. Windows from floor to ceiling and a sliding door to excess the balcony, with just enough space for a long wrap around couch to loop around. Snug in its own cube. The left side was a nicely sized kitchen with a dining table near the middle.
The security on the way up was worth the apartment, it was beautiful. It was a good sized apartment overall, perfect for you. There's a total of three bedrooms and three baths. You wondered for a moment about where Katsuki would choose his bedroom. Shoto also lived in this apartment complex, so you knew it was safe. The thought of Shoto's scar hurt your soul, he hated that scare and you gave a random girl the same if not worse.
"We need to buy new furniture for the living room," Katsuki cut into your thoughts.
"Why?" you turned to him confused, you didn't have a wrap around couch but he didn't know your ideas.
He coughed, knowing you hated the topic already, " Other one is burnt."
"Oh," you said sadly.
"I also can't get shit here until Tuesday. Takes a week for em," he barreled through the bad news, "You can look up a couch and I'll buy it."
"I already know the one I want," you looked back at the space, "I saw it Monday online, we can go check the stores to see if it's in stock? If not we can look."
"I don't think you should be doing all that walkin'," he furrowed his face in distaste.
"Too bad," you pushed past your injury, walking back outside the apartment after slipping your shoes on, "We have nowhere to sleep, we can get a couch and have a movie night. Wait, do we need a new TV?"
"Yeah, other one was shit anyway," he put his shoes on and followed you out reluctantly.
---
You pushed past all press, keeping your head down as you walked in front of Katsuki, his arms around you to keep from touching you. It was horrible, worse than it ever was. After your police statement was in, the press went crazy. Needing every detail possible. The entire furniture store had to shut down while you shopped, it made you thankful for Katsuki's job for once. He saved the owners before so they easily shut down for him. Finding your perfect couch was easy enough, wasn't the exact one you saw online but it was even better. While you found the couch, Katsuki got the TV, both set to be delivered to your apartment during the next three hours.
So you and Katsuki got lunch and stopped by his agency in the mean time, him needing to grab some paper work to go over the next few days. Kirishima's bright smile welcoming you the second you walked upstairs.
"Hey!" he greeted, arms stretched out for you. Hugging you gently. "How are you?" he held you back by your shoulders as he looked over you.
"Alright," you answered watching Katsuki walk into his office, "I hurt like a bitch though."
Kirishima laughed warmly, "No doubt, sorry that happened. What you did was super manly though."
You cringed, "I thought you left the manly thing in high school."
"I say it on rare occasions," he smiled down at you.
"Say what?" Katsuki asked as he closed his office behind him, joining you again.
"Manly," you answered, leaning into his space, feeling safe. He hummed in reply, smiling down at you briefly before looking back at Kirishima, crossing him arms.
"You got my patrols cover till Tuesday right?" Katsuki asked.
"Yeah, Denki, Sero, Mina, me and even Midoriya are all taking a chunk of your hours," Kirishima smiled brightly.
"Till Thursday?" you looked up confused, Katsuki hated time off.
Katsuki refused to look at you. LIstening as Kirishima talked, "You need a break and we got it covered, don't worry."
He rolled his eyes, "Send me every detail that happens, I'll be available if absolutely needed."
"Got it," Kirishima gave a toothy grin. Likely happy that he convince Katsuki to take time off in general. You weren't surprised at him being at the hospital, but taking a week off was unknown for him. Yet he seemed perfectly okay with it.
---
Once home, you noticed the fridge was fully stocked. Katsuki's premade meals filling the shelfs. Glad to see no fried rice. Fruit also filling the shelfs.
It was the first thing you went for when you got home, ignoring the wrapped up couch and TV and going for the food. Afterall, Katsuki would set up the TV fully. Needing to wall mount it.
With a premade meal in your hands, warm and ready to eat, you stood at the counter and watched him work.
"So I remember saying I'd do an interview with a truth quirk," you brought up after a while, Katsuki humming to continue from where we set up the TV. "How do I do that without giving up information?"
"Aizawa is probably willing to help, he'll monitor you and turn off the truth quirk person if they ask something sensitive. Still don't know why you said that," he answered, cursing at the TV when it didn't hook into the slot on the wall mount easily.
"Just want to clear my name," you took another bite of food as you watched him grin in victory at the TV being attached to the wall now. Him plugging it in and starting to log into all the streaming apps and everything.
You joined him after finishing your food, pushing a part of the couch into the spot you wanted. "The fuck are you doin?" he spun his head towards you at the sound of the couch moving. "I'll do it, just fuckin' point where to go."
After huffing at him, you stood in front of the TV, facing the couch and leading him to place each section of the couch. Cutting off the wrapping afterwards and sitting in front of the TV.
"What are we watching?" he called towards you, you were digging through the little amount of stuff that Katsuki pack for you two. It was clothes and blankets, all you'd need until Tuesday. It was already Saturday as well.
You plopped down a big blanket for you to share and sunk into the couch, "I don't know," you mumbled. Watching as he clicked onto your favorite movie right after.
"Hate when you say that," he grumbled.
"Yeah sure," you leaned into his side, wanting to be as close as possible to him. The scare of the break in still getting to you. He messed with his hand for a moment before laying his arm over your shoulders, pushing you closer to him. It was something both of you clearly needed. Just the warmth of the other.
-Next Part-
Just message/ask/comment (Preferably in them m.list of this fic) if you want to be added into a tag list <3
its so funny that cocona shaved her head, hear me out. she would always be the one getting controversial hairstyles that the black community would call the group out for. she even said once that some of the hair she wore was uncomfortable. baby got tired of the antics and just shaved her whole head ! lmaoo
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