Just Sink Your Fangs Into My Neck, Man. It Won’t Be Weird. I Promise

despite being allergic to pollen, BAKUGO KATSUKI spends most of valentine’s day at the flower shop downtown. despite the itch in his throat and despite the sting in his eyes, he refuses to leave.

his fingers twitch as he reaches for a bouquet. would you like roses? too cliche. sunflowers? too tacky. what the hell are peonies, and why do there have to be so many options to choose from?

he exhales sharply through his nose (bad idea, now he’s sneezing too) as he stomps over to the counter.

he grumbles at the florist, rubbing aggressively at the bridge of his nose. “what do you recommend for..” his voice dips, almost like he’s embarrassed, “..someone you like?”

the old woman behind the counter smiles knowingly. “that depends,” she hums, closing the register. “what do you like about her?”

his mouth opens — then snaps shut. his face heats up. he hates this. but he hates the idea of letting you down even more.

“she’s, uh..” he looks away, jaw tightening as he tries not to sneeze again. “she’s a pain in the ass.”

the florist blinks.

katsuki scoffs, gaze drifting while he’s deep in thought. “she’s loud, annoying, never shuts up.” his voice softens slightly. “but she’s.. nice. laughs like a fuckin’ idiot. and-” he clenches his fists. looks up. “-she likes flowers. a lot.”

the woman chuckles, already putting together a bouquet. “sounds like you’ve got it bad, kid.” katsuki scowls, but doesn’t argue.

by the time he leaves, gift in hand, his allergies are destroying him. his eyes are puffy, nose red, and he feels like absolute shit. but when he sees the look on your face later that day, the way you light up as he stands on your doorstep — none of that seems to matter.

MHA Boyfriend Texts !

๑ character’s included: bakugo, kaminari, kirishima

✧ cw: swearing, fluff, fem reader, usage of yn

ᴥ a/n: this is rushed so it IS buns but i wanted to put something out since i was gone for like 3 months ! So sorry (^_^;)

requests are open!

▽ masterlist

k. bakugo

d. kaminari

e. kirishima

I have sooooo many questions about tiktok!reader and Hawks’ relationship with one another… does Hawks know about [redacted]? What was it that made them start hooking up? Does reader stop hooking up with him when things start getting more serious with Bakugo? How does he feel about if she does?

cw: assault implications, reader is post assault. reader is visibly bruised

the first time:

.

It's weird for you to go Hawks' room, but he doesn't react when the door opens, his lopsided smirk the same as it always is.

"Hey." His teeth are freshly de-braced and he licks the now smooth fronts. "What are you doing?"

"Hey," you repeat back to him. "Do you wanna fuck?'

Hawks tilts his head back and laughs and laughs and laughs, from the bottom of his chest. It goes on ling enough that you should feel embarrassed, but the feeling never comes. Feelings never come easily nowadays, replaced by this itching, growing void that you aren't sure how to fill.

"You don't?"

"I just didn't expect you to be asking me that." He leans in, arm on the door frame. "Have you even had sex before?"

The question pisses you off, but you try not to let it show. Your smile isn't solidified yet, faultering ever so slightly. "Have you?"

Hawks rolls his eyes, tongue jammed into his cheek. Of course, he's had sex, it's all the handler's talked about for weeks. It's why you're here, because you know he'd touch you.

Not that you want him to touch you. You just don't want to feel empty anymore. Sex will make you feel something, at least. and that's better than the numbness.

"Alright, sure, yeah." He gestures inside and you follow. "Let's fuck. Why not?"

Blood rushes to your ears so quickly that you can hear your heartbeat begin to pick up speed. Fear and anticipation both taste metallic in your mouth, and you try to savor the taste despite how sour it has become. The door clicks locked behind you and you immediately start unbuttoning your pants, pushing your panties down with them. Hawks just raises a brow, eyeing you up and down as you stand there, in the middle of his room, half naked, fully open.

"Whoa," he says, frozen in place. "You're crazy."

You don't respond. It doesn't feel crazy- it feels normal.

"Do you want me to lick you or something?" Hawks asks. "To get you ready?"

You don't want to admit that you don't know what he means.

"I don't need that. Just fuck me."

Afterwards, he cages you down to the bed with his body, kissing up and down your neck. The awful, sticky, thick feeling is already fading from your chest, crumbling in on itself. Sex hurt, but not in the way it did before. It's more like bothering an already injured spot, prodding something that needs to be left alone. You're worried that the pain might go away forever, but also worried it'll always ache like this, that you'll never heal in the ways that matter.

"Hey, uh-" Hawks sniffs. "You gotta lotta bruises on your thighs."

"Yeah."

"Like, bad bruises," he lifts the sentence like it's not a statement, but a question. "On your back too."

You don't like how he has you trapped afterwards. It's supposed to be over by now- you're supposed to be free and he's supposed to be gone, not answering these non-questions.

"Do you want to do it again?" you interrupt.

"Uh," His feathers ruffle a bit. No is on the tip of his tongue, but he ends up swallowing it away. "Sure, I guess."

Leather and Lace

BikerBakugou x Ballet instructor

Part 3

(All photos are from Pinterest)

(Long blurb are we surprised?)

The annoying ‘click clack’ of Mina’s heals echoed off the concrete as the three of you made your way to where Kiri said Bakugou had parked. You wished Jiro would have wanted to meet outside or literally anywhere else, considering that the owner of the car you were meeting at already assumed you followed him around. But just as you consider pulling your phone out to text her a new meet up location, Jiro and her bandmates come into view and you have to convince yourself not to sigh unhappily.

Jiro was thankfully the first to notice you approaching, her eyes lighting up as you offer a friendly wave. Jiro would never admit it to anyone, but knowing her friends came to support her even at small gigs like this- meant the absolute world to her. So, once you’re close enough, she’s pulling you into a bone crushing hug and letting out a soft laugh.

“Hey! Did you like the set?” Her voice was full of excitement and hopeful curiosity, she’d changed the set so you would enjoy at least one song and wanted to know it proved effective. “We practiced all week, so I hope it didn’t sound too off.”

“No, it was awesome.” You offer, pulling her at arms length to see her beaming grin once again. “You’re a natural born talent, and I loved the new song.”

“What about the rest of us?” You step away from your overjoyed friend to allow Mina to pull her into a hug. “You know Kirishima.”

Did she? How were all of your friends so connected when you hadn’t even seen Kirishima around before Mina introduced you? Even Bakugou, he knew your neighbor and youre bestfriend but you hadn’t met him until recently either.

Speaking of Bakugou.

“Following me to my car now?” His arrogant taunt sent heat to your cheeks as everyone turns to look in your direction. You hadn’t told Mina about your texts with the blond, so even she seemed entirely confused. “Let me guess, going to watch me race again too?”

“I was asked to meet here, firstly.” Your voice shakes but you don’t let yourself look away from his accusing eyes, it’s not like you’re afraid of this guy. “Secondly- no, I’m not. I’m going to hang out with Jiro, not that it’s your business.”

Silence falls around you all too quickly, the only sound traveling between the group of you being a sarcastic exhale from Bakugou. In the seconds that silences consumes you, you find yourself taking in his appearance. His dark jeans and black hoodie fitting perfectly with his irritating personality, the only thing throwing you off were the bright red sneakers he wore on his feet. Finally, after a few very uncomfortable seconds, Denki clears his throat to speak up. Instantly making your eyes roll and your hands form fists at your sides.

“We’re actually, uh- going to watch.” Denki rubs the back of his neck as you try not to let your frustration show. Of course they were. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other.”

“We don’t, she just follows me around.” Bakugou scoffs, leaning against the black frame of the car you stood in front of. You’d temporarily forgotten where you were and why you were here, noticing how calm he seemed pressing his back against the drivers door and crossing his arms. “You’re not riding with me.”

“I wasn’t going to ask to?” You all but shrink back in disgust. Why would he ever assume you’d ask him for a ride? “And I’m not following you, you literally show up at my house multiple times a week.”

“That’s enough you two.” Mina finally steps in, a smile playing at her shiny lips as her eyes move between the two of you. She was likely forming ideas in her head that you were not looking forward to hearing about at a later point in time. “She’ll ride with us, Kay?”

“W-what? I’m not-.”

-

And that’s how you ended up in the abandoned parking lot behind an old mall that hadn’t been open in years, surrounded by strangers and picking at your nails. There were nearly double the amount of people littering the center of the center of the unlit lot than had been at the last race you’d let yourself get dragged to. Whistles and laughs filling the cold air that seemed to suffocate you with every passing second. Crowds weren’t your thing, especially not illegal ones.

“So how do you know him?” Jiro asks, looking to the make shift starting line where her bandmate sat on his bike waiting. His helmet was off and a dark haired woman stood beside him with her hand on his arm and a grin on her face. He seemed unphased and uninterested as the woman leaned closer and laughed. “And why did he say you’ve been following him?”

You didn’t want to go into details of your poorly rated encounters with someone she clearly considered a friend. So instead you shrug and check the time on your phone nervously. You’d been here nearly 30 minutes, and with every passing minute you feel an unsettling feeling crawling up your back. Something felt off, and your stomach hadn’t stopped twisting nervously since you realized it.

“He’s friends with my neighbor somehow, that’s how we met.” You sigh, noticing her clear determination to dig any information out from the depths of your silence. “I’ve gone a few places with Mina and he’s been there too and just assumes I’ve followed him or something- I don’t know, he’s a dick.”

“He’s actually not that bad once you get to know him.” Her nonchalant shrug does little convince you, but you press your lips together with a nod, scanning the crowed for Mina or Kirishima. They’d been gone for a while ‘using the bathroom’ You hoped the race would start soon and didn’t want them to miss it. “Have you seen-?”

“COPS!” Your heart drops the second the call comes from the opposite end of the parking lot, causing your blood to run ice cold. Flashing lights dance across the crowed that now moves frantically around you, your body being pushed and shoved in every direction as your worried eyes meet Jiros. “COPS ARE COMING!”

“Shit.” Jiro hisses, reaching for your wrist and watching panic ensue around where you stand rooted to the pavement. “We need to go find Denki-.”

You knew coming here was a mistake, that something bad was going to happen if you did- but even so you came and now you were stunned. Jiro pulls desperately on your wrist, struggling to pull you along between the bodies that fly by you in a panic. A particularly hard shove from a terrified stranger causes her grip to loosen and your body to hit the pavement below.

Your hands immediately fly to cover your head, feeling the ground rattling beneath you as the last of the crowd make their way around you and to what ever direction they’d chose to run in. A few feet clip you, small kicks or shoves causing your body to curl into itself until you’re finally able to pull yourself to your feet and look around the nearly vacant lot.

Jiro was gone, and in the distance you see headlights pulling away and disappearing in the opposite direction. Panic consumes your every thought, did they leave without you? Were you about to be arrested? What if one of those police sirens belongs to your father? How is-?

“Why the hell are you just standing here you fucking idiot!” A tug on your arm pulls yourself back to reality, causing your heart to both race and calm down. At least you weren’t alone. “Get on and let’s go.”

“Wait, I-.” You can feel every inch of your body shaking as you look up from the ground to meet Bakugous angry eyes. Why did he stay? “I-I can’t.”

“You’ll be arrested if you don’t.” His voice was even, but as he looks behind you, you can see the worry in his eyes. You mimic a fish out of water, watching as he turns his helmet in his hands and steps closer. “You goin to listen to me or stay here?”

Without an answer, he pushes the helmet over your head, causing the hair you’d worn down to tug tightly at your scalp. The flashing lights were getting closer, and his hand was reaching for yours and tugging you toward his bike that you hadn’t even heard pull up beside you just seconds ago. This can’t be happening.

Bakugou swings a leg over the bike, looking to you as you pull your shaking hands to your chest. This may be normal for him, but running from the police isn’t something you’d ever done before so your anxiety had lodged your heart into your throat and you could feel fearful tears welling in the corner of your eyes. You were thankful the dark tent of the helmets window made your worried expression invisible to Bakugou who reaches forward to tug on your shirt.

“Just sit, hold on, and don’t fucking cry.” His barked order earns a flinch, but you listen. You have to listen. You copy his previous his actions and sit on the black leather, pressing yourself into his back to make wrapping your arms around his torso easier. “Don’t fall off ‘cause I ain’t coming back for you again.”

The second the threat leaves his lips, you feel the bike rattle below you and your body being tugged backwards. It’s hard, but you keep your arms around him and your helmet covered head pressed to his back as the cold wind bites against your exposed skin with. You’d never been on a motorcycle, so the feeling of exposure makes your stomach uneasy and your head spin.

With the fear of being caught, or flying off the back of his bike weighing heavily on your thoughts you find yourself clamping your eyes shut and doing your best to ignore the racing wind in around you or the rapid thud of your heartbeat in your ears as he continues to drive down the road you’d taken to get there.

With every turn, lean and huff you can feel your anxiety growing quickly. The sirens fade as Bakugou puts distance between you but the fear of being caught still remained, even after the bike had begin to slow down and your palm pressing into his chest could feel his surprisingly even heart beat. You were terrified, and being pressed against him did nothing to calm you down.

“You okay back there?” You can feel his chest vibrating as he looks over his shoulder, but you don’t dare open your eyes. You were still moving, and your legs had begun to tingle from the vibration of the bike combined with genuine fear. “Loosen your grip, it’s hard to steer.”

Without a word, you loosen your grip, giving his chest room to expand fully before he takes another turn. You do your best to ignore the warmth of his back against your chest, but it’s the only thing you find comfort in as sirens blare in the distance. He was here, alive and the only reason you weren’t still stood in that parking lot being arrested. Maybe Jiro was right.

“You good?” He asks, the bike coming to a complete stop a few moments later. Where were you? You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes to even attempt to find out. The sound of scraping metal and quiet machinery sounds from in front of you and you quickly piece together you’re in front of a garage door. “Go on to the door, I’ll meet you up there in a second.”

You have to force yourself to open your eyes, the fear that a police officer will be waiting for you preventing you from doing so for a few short seconds. As they open you remove your arms from around his torso and quickly remove yourself from the bike so he can drive it into the nearly empty garage he’d stopped in front of. Was this his house?

The house was large, with a winding walkway that leads you to a red door. You feel out of place standing beside the place mat, but you had no clue where you were so you would have to follow his instructions and wait by the door. The neighborhood seemed nice, cookie cutter houses lining the street that stretched on past your line of site as you pull the helmet from your head and reach to smooth your hair down.

“Don’t say a word, got it?” He barks, pulling a key from his key ring. How wasn’t he flustered? Did he truly have enough run ins like this that it wasn’t at all worrying for him? “If anyone asks- you like my band. Don’t say a word about what the hell just happened- got it?”

You nod nervously, unsure what you were walking into as his key jams into the lock and twists. With his helmet in your sweaty hand, you follow him into the pitch black house and sigh a sigh of relief once the door closes behind you. You may be in a strangers home, with no clue which direction you lived in, but at least the police weren’t chasing you and your heart hadn’t burst from your chest.

“Hey, you’re in late.” A female voice comes from the too of the stair case Bakugou was already walking up. “Oh- you brought a friend.”

“Hi, I’m-.” You try to be polite as you follow him, offering the pretty blonde girl a smile before Bakugou turns around to glare in your direction. If looks could kill, you’d be flatlining. “Wha-.”

“Go bother your boyfriend and fuck off.” He snaps, turning to glare at the girl while reaching for your wrist. She seemed about your age, and not phased with Bakugou shoulder checking her as he reached the top of the stair case. Were they… roommates then? “The only thing I said was not to say a word and you couldn’t even listen.”

Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness as he pulls you down a long hallway. Still, in the darkness you can make out hung photos on either side of the hallway, lining it all the way until the very end where he was now turning and reaching for a door handle.

“Why the hell did you just stand there like an idiot?” He wastes no time, glaring into your soul the second you’re pulled into the room and he switches in the light beside the door. “Why weren’t you with your friends?”

“I-I.” You can’t find a single thing to say, feeling your hands still shaking as you look around the small room he’d pulled you into. “I-Is this your house?”

“No- I just broke in.” You ignore his scoff and let yourself take in the room in front of you. It was simple, a full bed with black bedding, a small beside table and a black desk on the opposite wall. The desk was covered in text books, resembling the walls that had been covered in posters. “Do sit down and calm the hell down- I can feel your bones rattling all the way from here.”

He sits in the chair in front of the desk, swiveling to face you as you sit on the edge of his unmade bed and reach for your hair nervously. You can’t even focus on the fact that you hated this guy I and now you were in his bed room- because all you could think about was the fear you felt and the small part of you that buzzed with excitement in the aftermath of your getaway ride.

“They won’t know who you are.” Bakugou grumbles, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket and taking in your shaken expression. “I’m ordering you an uber, what I did is never to be discussed with anyone.”

“O-okay.” You mumble, grip the fabric of his comforter below you. You can’t help but wonder why he didn’t want anyone to know he’d helped you, but you don’t question him. He’d probably just snap and the conversation would go no where anyway, so you sit quietly on his bed and ignore your phone that buzzed in your back pocket. “Uh-what do I tell Jiro and Mina when they ask how I got away?”

“Anything that will keep my name out of your mouth.”

———

I’ll probably go back and edit this eventually.

!!TAGS ARE CLOSED!!

-Parchy

———

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please please please please reblog if you’re a writer and have at some point felt like your writing is getting worse. I need to know if I’m the only one who’s struggling with these thoughts

hi hello congrats on 1k!!! can i get a smau w shinso? i don't see super much content of him so maybe smth where he confesses to the reader by accident (like he thinks he's texting someone else) OR. he's trying to (not so) covertly ask you what you like so he can plan a date? or if you don't like either of these pls feel free to do your own thing, you're an amazing writer!! congrats again!!!

drunken love

h.shinso

-in which he gets a little too drunk and messages you on accident

teehee i love you too 🫶🏼🫶🏼 for the character maybe you could write hcs for shoto 🧐🧐

hiii bibi !! thank you so much for supporting my homework!! here's some headcanons for shoto!! fem! reader

SHOTO TODOROKI . . . THE PR NIGHTMARE!

— shoto is dense and his pr is ass, right? so imagine the first time he got approached by another girl while dating you and unknowingly gets the girl's hopes up and comes home with her number. and you lecture him on the fact that she just made a move on him, so the next time he’s approached like that, he’s dead serious when he goes “oh… my girlfriend told me to not accept any phone numbers.”

— speaking on being dead serious, shoto takes your every desire seriously. whether you’re joking or not, even if it’s something simple like “god i’m craving bread today” and suddenly you’re stocked with bread for the next month. he’s become attentive to detail (though it took him some time) so once he picks up on the fact that you like something be prepared.

— he is the media’s greatest nightmare because of his honesty. his hot single persona went away in an instant when he got interviewed and immediately mentioned that his biggest supporter and his motivation was his girlfriend. he has to be dragged away for media training so next time he’s asked about you, shoto can cut cut himself off with “uhh.. no comment?”

— and when he’s ALLOWED to post you and talk about you (which happens eventually) he’s always posting pictures you do not approve of. you have to create a shared photo folder called “approved <3” so he can choose pictures from there. if not, you’ll look like a gremlin on his socials.

free falling is a taste of freedom

feat: keigo takami / hawks

warnings: language, heaviness, implications of reader and keigo being groomed by the commission, violence (if u squint), bittersweet

cache notes: i crashed out during this so many times omfg. but anyways heavily inspired by circles by pierce the veil and monsters by all time low (once we figure out why spotify links aren't working i'll link the songs heh)

m.list

the first day you met hawks, he was in the training gym working on some stupid trick of his– something about flipping forward and bringing his blades out at the same time and landing some stupid comic book hero– and you had to hide a laugh when he tripped over his own feet. he challenged you to a sparring match later that day, after the weekly commission meeting where you were properly introduced to one another; where he promptly kicked your ass with his fast reflexes and sharp wit. 

the two of you became fast friends after that. 

the first day you met keigo, he had found you on the roof, crying to yourself. that mask of indifference cracked almost instantly the second he saw you turn towards him with tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. he doesn’t remember why you were crying, only the fact that the sight made his heart clench in a way that foreign and uncomfortable and he needed to do something about it. 

more times than not here recently, you receive hawks more than keigo. it hurts in a way that’s more nostalgic than anything, like remembering an old childhood friend that drifted away or a home-cooked meal whose recipe you can’t remember because the originator died years ago. 

a lot of people say that young heroes are very mature for their age. you don’t know if that’s just true for the females, or if it qualifies for any of the kids raised in the commission. in yours and hawks’ case; maturity was something learned far too young and quickly. death was a subject brought up before you even got to think about how the summer would feel spent on the side of the lake with a bottle of booze and grilled food. 

the two of you take turns every thursday at each other’s agencies to visit and spend some time with each other. you usually bring paperwork to thumb through, hawks brings coffee and distractions. this thursday, hawks is at yours. he’s got his wings spread so they cover a small portion of your office floor– which scatters feathers everywhere, but you’d scold and make him clean them up later– laying upside down on the small couch to the side of the room. 

he kicks his feet lazily as they hang over the back of the couch, humming as he scrolls through his phone. when he speaks, the sentence is so casual it causes you to choke on your own tongue. “we should run away one of these days.”

when you’ve managed to compose yourself, hawks is not looking at you. his eyes are still locked on the screen, the same look of relaxed concentration that you’ve seen all through childhood on his expression. 

your eyes narrow. “don’t be stupid,” you’re careful about how tight your voice sounds. your fingers pause their actions from typing on your keyboard, your gaze split from the document on your computer to his figure draped over your office sofa. “they’d never let both of us go at the same time.”

hawks barks out a laugh, though the corners of his mouth never fully lift to his natural smile. your tongue is pressed between your lips, biting back a snarky remark. it’s hard to tell if he’s being serious, or just yanking your chain. 

“you’re always so serious, [y/n],” he’s chuckling, still looking at the screen in front of his face. “just indulge me for once?”

your back meets the arch of your office chair as a sigh racks through your body. the blinking cursor stares back at you, taunting you to just continue working instead of diving into the silly hypothetical he’s proposed. but part of you wants to dabble in it– to hear him out. see just how far he’s actually thought into it, if he’s actually planned anything out or just talking casual shit just to have something to talk about like usual when he’s over visiting you. 

“say we did run. where would we go?”

you can see him pause for a moment in his scrolling. “leave the country, obviously. south america maybe?”

a snort leaves your lips, your grin is purely sarcastic. “south america?”

“hypothetical,” he replies, his eyes finally leave his phone and meet yours, flashing that signature grin of his. in the back of your mind you’re wondering if all the blood has rushed to his head yet. he’s been sitting upside-down for a while now, his face is still a normal color. 

“so we’re flying, i suppose?” 

hawks shrugs. he pulls his phone away from his face and lets his arms fall gently to the floor beside his head. “we can,” he starts, his bottom lip juts to the side like it always does when he says something he doesn’t exactly agree with. “or take another mode of transportation.”

a single eyebrow raises to that, and you let out a chuckle. “yeah, i can see you on a public bus very vividly.”

you don’t miss how his eyes narrow, his eyebrows knitting together as he glares at you for that response. he knows he sticks out like a sore thumb, he’s painfully aware of that. at eighteen he should be worrying about going to college or something, getting his driving license or other normal things teenagers worry about. 

“could always split it up though,” he offers, his eyes rolling the slightest bit as he adjusts himself. he slides a bit further– his shoulders now meet the floor. instead of looking at you, he traces imaginary shapes on the ceiling. “i could fly us part of the way and we hitchhike some of the way.”

“not hitchhiking,” you disagree almost instantaneously. your fingers find miscellaneous paper, fiddling with the corner as you swing back and forth in your office chair. “i’ve heard too many horror stories about that kind of shit.”

there’s a noise from the other side of the room. hawks slides the rest of the way off the couch, now moving onto his knees before righting himself– stopping once his eyes meet yours. “you act like i wouldn’t be there to protect you,” there’s a flash– almost as quick as his skills in the sky, he tries to cover it; but you see it. for just a moment, hawks lets keigo out, evident in his tone and vague possessiveness in his words. 

the corner of your mouth lifts, but it’s to alleviate tension. the small smile is not genuine and hawks can’t tell if it hurts more than it pisses him off. 

the next time running away is brought up, it’s not by his mouth. it’s by yours. 

you’re agitated. pissed off, pacing back and forth and walking with purpose towards his office like your life depends on it. you know he’s not on patrol at the moment– he’s been online posting so you know he’s in his office with his feet propped on his desk like he has nothing better to do. 

it’s not a thursday. he’s surprised to see you storm into his office, but he doesn’t comment on how hard you slam his door shut or how you look like you’re practically steaming. his feet merely drop from his desk to the floor and his eyebrow raises. he knows better than to open his mouth– something stupid would come out anyways. 

“let’s run away.” 

keigo reels back like he’s been slapped. he takes a good look at you– frazzled, eyes bloodshot from either stress crying or strained from overuse, hair mussed and not in the attractive way he’s come to find extremely endearing– he can’t tell if you’re of sound mind at the moment. but your voice– your tone– how you sound so sure of yourself, so firm and demanding–

it’s been years since he brought up the idea. the two of you were eighteen and fresh into the hero scene, keigo was a popular favorite and immediately in the top ten and since then he’s been steadily climbing through the ranks. you’ve been pushing the burning feeling of being left behind and stuck in his shadow to the back of your mind for a while now. 

“are you okay?” his tone is gentle, but it’s artificially sincere. you know this subject is a sore spot. there’s a reason it hasn’t been brought up since that day. it’s clear in the way his shoulders are tense, the muscles in his jaw taut and teetering over the edge of pulling the fight or flight card. 

there’s a distraught sigh that leaves your lips. “no, i’m not okay,” your tone is tight. your hands are clenched so hard that they ache and your knuckles are white. you’re pacing in short strides– back and forth, back and forth– your eyes wild as they pick out small objects on shelves. small objects. throwable objects. 

“we could hit the gym if you want–”

“i can’t fucking do this anymore, keigo!” 

you can feel the tears trailing down the apples of your cheeks and your tear ducts burn. the last thing your tear clouded vision sees is keigo surging towards you before your hands clap over your face, shielding your actively crumbling expression. 

“i’m stressed, there’s so much pressure,” you feel the sob rack through your body. “they want me on back to back patrols and then this mission in another city and then training the new hires at the agency–”

suddenly, the two of you are fourteen again. the way his hands cradle your jaw– bare fingertips because he knows how much you hate the fabric of his gloves against your skin– you didn’t even see him remove his gloves. the touch clearly rattles you, causing you to stiffen against his palms. 

keigo doesn’t allow you to move away. even as your hands slide down and off of your face, even as your forehead meets his own in such a tender form of comfort. suddenly, the two of you are fourteen again, out on the rooftop of the HPSC, comforting each other in the only way the two of you can when you’ve been abandoned by the people who had gifted you life. 

keigo’s nose bumps against your own, an intimate gesture that you’ve seen only reserved for yourself. the two of you had never talked about dating, or love or anything romantic revolving whatever kind of relationship you shared– you never had the time, nor the privilege to– but you knew what was there. he held you as if you were priceless, a treasure that he would fight tooth and nail before handing over. 

his lips part to speak, breath warm as it ghosted over your own; but the abruptness of his office door swinging open causes both of you to flinch and separate. it’s not like the two of you were doing anything lewd– but the wide eyed intern in the doorway couldn’t tell that. all she saw was the two of pull apart, a look of embarrassment and a flush on each of your faces before keigo clears his throat and addresses her. 

and as quickly as the moment is interrupted, it is forgotten. 

in the next years that follow, keigo rises to number two, you stay locked in the upper twenties of the rankings. the threat of a war sends your agency into a frenzy, more employees being sent out, more sidekicks on missions and more patrols passed around and shared. every hero is on high alert, not just yourself. 

you still catch glimpses of him, but its scarce. thursdays are practically empty now without the once welcomed noisy distractions in your office. your thursdays are now spent on patrol well into the night, stationed just on the outskirts of town where the league was spotted before. 

they never show up, you never get any action; but you don’t complain. it’s nice to have silence to yourself. 

this particular thursday, you catch a familiar flash of red and tan slip past your peripheral. whether he wanted you to catch him or not, you’ll never know. the surprise on his expression was hard to decipher once you finally did catch up to him. 

although you were elated to see him after so long, the first words out of your mouth were not praise nor sweet. “the fuck happened to your wings, keigo?”

you watch as his form pauses, stiffening at his given name before he turns– wide eyed and guilty– like you caught him doing something shady. and you hated how immediately your walls shot up, your muscles on guard and tense. this was keigo. he was not a threat. why was your body reacting the way it was?

“they’re fine, they just need some time to heal,” his voice is low– sheepish. the corner of his mouth lifts to create that boy-ish grin that wins screeches and squeals from crowds of women– but to you, it’s only manufactured. 

his hair, once long and shaggy with those few stupid curls that you always found annoyingly endearing; was now trimmed short and cropped closer to his head. it’s a jarring look, compared to how you’ve always known him– but you can’t help but think it looks better on him. 

the scar is also new. and granted, you’ve seen him on the news and during his press conference; you’ve seen his appearance change. 

but it’s earth-shattering, to say the least, to see it in the flesh. you want to reach out to the small appendages hanging from his back. to touch and feel them– see if they still react how they’ve always done to your touch and presence. 

keigo steps back from you, seeing your outstretched hand. the motion causes your hand to drop slowly, a ringing can be heard in the outer part of your ears. “what are you doing out here?” 

he knows what you mean. and yet he deflects it, “patrolling. our routes overlap, y’know?”

they don’t, and he knows that. you take a step towards him once again. “keigo.”

he takes another step back, forcing you into some kind of twisted dance. “[y/n].”

you hate being held at arms length. you can clearly tell he’s lying, hiding something from you. and granted, the two of you haven’t really been around each other the past couple years, but you grew up with him. this is your best friend, your first ally– the person you trust the most with the darkest parts of yourself. in some ways, you know you love him. of course you love him. you’re just not sure in what ways. 

“why are you being so weird?” the dance continues. you don’t miss how his jaw clenches when he realizes he’s got four more steps until you have him backed against the wall. he chews on the inside of his cheek– one of his tells you’ve been able to pick up over the many years of training and being around him– before he sidesteps and turns the tables. the edge of his blade rests carefully against your jaw for mere seconds before you take a shaky step backwards. 

with your back now facing the wall, keigo advances. his fingers flex around the handle of the blade and his steps are firm as they chase your own unsettled and rattled movements. “i’m not being weird,” he sounds like he’s forcing the words out. “stop itching for a fight, [y/n].”

your brows furrow with undiluted confusion. your body feels tense and rigid, uneasy with emotions that don’t connect coherently to thoughts. the complete flip of his mood and tone have you spiraling. you aren’t face to face with keigo anymore– this is a new side of hawks, one you haven’t had the ‘joy’ of meeting yet. 

“i’m not itching for a fight!” you hate how your voice trembles. like you’re scared. 

your back hits the wall and the tip of the crimson blade in his hand knicks your chin. there’s a dull stinging, but you can barely feel it over the roar in your eardrums. 

keigo is not normally an intimidating guy. yes, he can be, but you’ve rarely seen it or experienced it. and his little hawks persona is just the same as well— you’ve been on patrol with him before. you’ve seen him take down villains, you’ve seen him in training; you’ve seen every side of him. 

except this one. this intimidating, intense— frightening aura before you, you’re at a loss for words. 

“you’re pushing for information that doesn’t concern you,” keigo growls, his head dipping to meet your eyes. he holds a palm out—either to subtly pin you against the wall or grab at you if you choose to attack— you’re not sure. he adjusts his hold on the handle and fixes the tension in his jaw with a click. 

the both of you are close enough to share breaths, but far enough apart to know that there is something different between the two of you. you are no longer fourteen, eighteen, or fresh in your twenties. when you breathe in, keigo breathes out. 

your hand lifts, reaching forward— towards him— all the tension melts. instead of leaning into your touch like he would back then, his head surges forward and seizes your lips with his own. 

keigo had told you before that the freest he’s ever felt is in the skies. you’ve been flying with him before, you know exactly the type of exhilarating, adrenaline inducing emotion he’s talking about. with the lack of ground beneath you and the limitless sky above, keigo was exactly right. it was the closest thing to freedom he had. 

with his lips on yours, you feel like you are free falling, hurling towards the earth at untamable speeds and the impact into the dirt is the sensation of his mouth pulling away from yours. 

keigo might get a taste of freedom everyday, but it was nothing compared to the taste of freedom he had just given you. 

“i’m just scared,” he mumbles, his voice is small. he sounds so young, so impossibly childlike that you have to open your eyes a blink to make sure it was still him that was brushing against your lips with each breath and syllable. “i… i almost died. i got reckless and screwed everything up and—“ 

your hand moves to the back of his head— a twinge shoots through you when you remember the curls aren’t as long so you can’t hook your fingers through them— and your hand steadies at the back of his neck, pulling his forehead to rest against yours. “why didn’t you come find me?” 

it’s selfish of you to say that. it really is. but the two of you have been each other’s support systems since you were adolescents. 

keigo winces slightly at your statement. “i couldn’t face you like that, [y/n].” 

his blade is still against your jaw, cold and a firm reminder that you were supposed to be elsewhere. your eyes meet his, a silent exchange between the two of you. 

i’ve seen you look worse. 

you always have, haven’t you? 

the silence holds more words, but neither of you put the weight down. whether it be the risk and danger of speaking on it, or the action being a spur of the moment between two childhood friends trying to fit pieces in where they don’t quite fit yet. 

that night you get home from patrol and dream of the feeling of keigo’s lips. you wake up crying. 

you haven’t seen hawks face to face in years. when you finally do run into him at the office, both of you are visibly different from those early years at the commission. you’ve grown your hair out, he’s lost the plumage of red that used to hang behind him. you’re only passing through, grabbing paperwork for your own agency when the two of you stop dead in your tracks in front of each other. 

he’s only grown a couple inches, and he’s kept his hair short. the scar from the war has healed and faded into his skin, but the outline still shows. it makes him look more rugged, more defined. he had always argued with you that the facial hair he tried so desperately to grow did most of the work— the scar did it perfectly on its own. 

hawks is the first to speak. his eyes are shining in a way that’s hard to tell if he’s seconds away from bursting into tears or just looking at something brighter than the sun. “it’s been a while.” 

the inhale you take in is shorter than the exhale you push out. your smile is shaky, and your grip around the files in your hand tightens. “it’s been a while, yeah…” 

there’s a lot to be said. the two of you can’t continue to stare at each other with so much longing, so much emotion. 

there’s a stretch of silence, hawks shifts awkwardly. the katanas against his back slap against muscle and he raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. he can tell time is running out, with the way that you shift the files against your waist and the impending footsteps of employees and commission workers down the hall. 

“you ever wish that we did it?” 

your tongue feels dry. “did what?” 

“run away,” hawks whispers. he chews on the inside of his cheek and it forces you to pause. “we should’ve done it.” 

your vision feels sluggish, dragging up from his lips, to his cheek where his tongue pokes at the inside; up to his eyes. 

you don’t know if you’ll get that taste of freedom only he could give you ever again. 

“we’re still here,” you murmur. your tongue presses in between your lips and you watch hawks physically hold himself back. i’m still here. you’re still here.

by now, the group from down the hall has caught up. your words are rushed as you force them off of your tongue; “do you want to—“ 

he’s swept up by the commission workers before he can hear the latter part of your statement. he reaches for you as he brushes past, bare fingertips against your wrist that send static throughout your skin. you squeeze him back in the half of a second he gives you and you can see the corner of his mouth lift as he’s ushered down the hall. 

freedom was always so close to you, you realize. in your case, it wasn’t a feeling or an action— but a person. 

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

fake dating

pairing: midoriya x reader

summary: Izuku really needs a favor.

wc: 2.8k

event masterlist

You probably should have just said no. 

Though it was so incredibly hard to deny Izuku of anything, it wasn’t impossible. Difficult beyond belief, but not impossible. You only had yourself to blame, really, when you agreed to his request. You even had a few days to back out, but a part of you just couldn’t get yourself to let him down. 

But really, you wished you didn’t sign up to pretend to be Izuku’s partner when all you wanted was for it to be real. 

“Are you ready?”

No, you weren’t, but you couldn’t exactly tell Izuku the truth as you stood outside his family home, second away from attempting to convince everyone that you were dating. The very thought made you flush. 

“Wait, hold on,” You hesitated, grabbing his arm gently to stop him from opening the doorway. He followed your direction immediately, checking you once over to make sure you were alright. Just another reason why you were hopelessly in love with your friend—he was just so good. “Do you remember the backstory?”

“Yeah, do you? I wrote it all down if you need to review.” He nodded, and the fact that he had taken notes on your fake relationship made a grin form on your lips. 

“No, I’m good. It’s just…” You trailed off, dropping your gaze from him in an effort to make the heat in your cheeks disappear. “Will your mom be suspicious if we aren’t physically affectionate? We never really talked about that.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched the color rise up Izuku’s neck and take over his features. 

“I don’t think so? W-we could hold hands, but only if you want!” He hurried to ensure you were comfortable, just like he had from the moment his plan was brought up. He was just as nervous as you were, only you were doing a better job at hiding it. 

Barely. 

“Okay, yeah.” You agreed, sliding the hand that was holding his arm down until it wrapped around his own. You could feel the raised skin from his scars under the pads of your fingers. Subconsciously, you brushed your thumb over the worst of the damage on the back of his hand. 

“S-sorry about my scars. I know they’re weird.” He apologized, not able to look at you. Frowning, you squeezed his hand once in silent reprimand. He had led you to the front door and was seconds away from letting you into his childhood home, but you couldn’t let him continue on thinking you thought his scars were weird. 

“They’re not.” You murmured as he pushed the door open, sounds and smells of dinner cooking alongside lively conversation washed over the two of you and almost drowned out your words. “I don’t think so, at least.” 

True to his nature, Izuku flushed at your words, but was kept from responding as none other than the Inko Midoriya raced towards the sound of the front door opening to sweep her son up into a massive hug. Izuku didn’t let go of your hand as he hugged his mother back, an action you both didn’t miss and felt incredibly endeared by. 

“Mom,” Izuku started, gesturing towards you with his free hand when he finally let his mother go. “This is—”

“I know who this is.” Inko interrupted, pulling you into a hug just as tight as the one meant for your son. Instantly, you felt a wave of guilt for lying to this woman about the truth of your relationship with her son. Izuku hadn’t said anything about it, but you knew that you’d have to fake break up after the dinner. You couldn’t exactly fake date forever. “You’ve talked about them for weeks! I’m so glad to finally meet you, dear. I’ve been begging Izuku to bring you over.”

“Mom,”

“I’m glad I could make it,” Overtop Izuku’s whine, you managed to force the words out despite how flustered you were at discovering Izuku—apparently—talked about you to his mother. So much so, that she had been asking about meeting you. 

You were so screwed. 

“The food’s almost ready. Everyone is in the other room.” Inko started herding you and Izuku towards the sound of chattering. He kept his hand clasped around yours, even as his mother nudged him around, but you couldn’t help but realize that he was doing everything in his power to avoid looking directly at you. 

Was he embarrassed? The whole point of the evening was to pretend that the two of you were dating to get his mother to give him some space on the matter, so why would he care that she believed your ruse? 

“Go socialize, you two!” Inko gave you one final push into the sitting room, already dotted with Izuku’s various aunties and other relatives. You hadn’t expected to recognize anyone, which is why you were totally surprised when you met a set of very familiar red eyes. 

“No shit. You actually went through with it.” 

“Kacchan!” Izuku’s panicked voice filled the silence left by Bakugou’s crude and cryptic comment. All of the aunties in the room paused to glare at him, and Bakugou’s mother cuffed the back of his head in reprimand. 

This was bad. Bakugou was the only one who knew about your crush on Izuku. It wasn’t that you had told him, but more so that he confronted you about your feelings one sparring session and you panicked too fast to deny it. Since he was the only one who knew, you had thought it was safe to mention your fake dating plan to him.

Now, you were certain you were going to regret it. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, though you knew that the Bakugous and Mrs. Midoriya had been friends since the boys were in preschool. You just didn’t know why he had to be there. If it had been a different situation, you would have laughed at the sight of Bakugou sitting on Mrs. Midoriya’s small couch with neighborhood aunties surrounding him on all sides. But he was grinning far too smugly for you to consider the possibility that he would keep your secret. 

“I was invited,” Bakugou shrugged nonchalantly, then dropped his attention down to your hand wrapped around Izuku’s, and you just knew he was going to make some teasing comment. It was bad enough he taunted you in private over your crush on damn Deku, but you knew you were in serious trouble in front of a crowd. “What are you doing here?”

You grit your teeth at the smug asshole, face burning so incredibly bright red. From the corner of your eye, you knew Izuku was in a similar state. 

“I’m Izuku’s date,” You explained what he already knew. It was hard enough to pretend to date Izuku to begin with, but now to do it all with Bakugou watching?

“Yeah, my date.” Izuku nodded. From the expression on his face, you knew he was thinking something similar to you. He was even closer to Bakugou than you were. 

Bakugou smirked, but after a moment’s hesitation, he shrugged and went back to whatever conversation he had previously been in before your arrival. As he dropped the topic, you let out a breath you had been holding in due to nerves. 

“That was close,” You murmured in Izuku’s ear as he led you across the room to an empty seat. 

“Sorry,” He whispered back, close enough that you felt his breath brush against the shell of your ear. Shivering, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “I kinda forgot that Kacchan would be here.” 

“That’s alright,” You assured him, even though the way your heart was pounding in your chest was absolutely not alright. “I think he’s playing along for now.” 

A truce, it would seem. 

You should have known you couldn’t trust Bakugou when it came to matters of teasing Izuku. 

At the dinner table, you sat beside Izuku, his hand still diligently holding yours. Of course, Bakugou had seated himself across from Izuku, shooting the two of you knowing, taunting looks as you ate. It was hard to answer Mrs. Midoriya’s questions about yourself or follow the conversations around the table when you were just waiting for Bakugou to start something. 

“How long have you been together, again?” Inko asked politely as she served more of the food she had made onto your plate. You smiled graciously at her, trying to remember the story you and Izuku had created. 

“A month.” You felt so guilty for lying, but Izuku had asked you for a favor and you’d agreed. 

Though, it felt less and less like a fake date when Izuku refused to let go of your hand for a moment. Under the table, your fingers were threaded together and resting in your lap.

“Uh huh. And how’d you get together?” Bakugou cut in, shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned forward, interested in the conversation about your relationship. 

“Katsuki, you’re being rude.” His mother chastised, but you felt a sudden need to rise to Bakugou’s challenge. If you were going to fake date Izuku, then you were going to do it right. 

“Izuku just asked me when we were hanging out one day.” You countered with a newfound bravery. It wasn’t exactly a lie—you had been hanging out with Izuku when he asked you to be his date, only with the caveat that it was fake. Bakugou grinned at you playing into his game, leaning forward on his elbows. 

“Yeah, Kacchan, you know.” Izuku stammered to back you up, and you smiled softly at him, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles once more under the table. 

“What did he say, exactly?” Bakugou pushed for details, smirking. 

“Why do you want to know?” Your face scrunched in confusion. It seemed more like he genuinely wanted to know instead of just teasing the two of you.

“Curious,” Bakugou shrugged, though his attention suddenly was fixed on Izuku, who was flushed bright red. “What’d ya say, Deku? Anything dramatic when ya asked ‘em out?”

You turned to face Izuku with a confused frown. It seemed like Bakugou was having a separate conversation with Izuku right in front of you. 

“Oh, leave them alone, Katsuki!” Mrs. Bakugou ordered, and you realized exactly who he got his temper from. Scowling, Bakugou turned his focus from you and Izuku to argue with his mother. Despite your confusion, you managed to steal a glimpse at Izuku and found him blushing red and pushing food around his plate as if he was deep in thought. 

Your secret was safe, for now.

Somehow, you made it through dinner without further comments from Bakugou, and before you knew it, Izuku was walking you home. 

“I think it went well.” You hummed, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the two of you the moment his front door shut. His hand had slipped from yours once the night was over, and with it went any disbelief about what the night had been about. “I’m sorry that I probably won’t get to see your mother again.”

You really were upset about it. Inko had been an absolute delight, and you knew exactly where Izuku had gotten all his sweetness from. But at the mention of your inevitable fake breakup, Izuku tensed from beside you, pausing on the sidewalk outside his building. 

“About that…” Izuku muttered, trailing off in nerves. You frowned at him in curiosity, having to fight the newly developed urge to hold his hand. How were you supposed to go back to normal after a night of pretending everything you wanted was real? “I, uh, actually meant for this to be real.”

“What?” Your mind went blank as you tried to process what he said. It wasn’t out of character for him to suddenly drop information on you out of nowhere, but never had it been something so serious as his possible feelings for you. 

“When I asked you to be my date tonight.” He clarified, voice wavering. “I meant for real.”

You blinked slowly at him, barely able to keep your jaw from dropping in shock. How hadn’t you realized? When he asked you, you had just assumed he meant fake dating, and he had never corrected you. But to know that he meant it as a real, actual date? You couldn’t believe it. 

“Why did you let me think you meant to pretend?” Shock was the only emotion evident on your face as you watched Izuku’s face flush at your admonishment. 

“Because I didn’t want to push my luck! Plus I thought it might have been your way of letting me down easy. But Kacchan kept teasing, and I thought maybe he knew something I didn’t. And I don’t know, I’m really nervous right now. Please say something. Anything, really—”

“Izuku Midoriya.” You interrupted his rambling with a call of his full name, and it works a little too well, getting him to stop talking at the cost of making him go pale and freeze with wide eyes.

“Oh no.”

“You’re adorable.” Recovering from your shock, you grinned, reaching out to wrap your hand around his like you wanted to from the start. Holding his between both of your own, you made sure to brush your thumbs over his scars he had said thought made him weird earlier in the evening. 

“Oh?” 

“Ask me again.” You encouraged him, a smile gracing your lips as you watched every expression that washed over his features. 

“What?” Ever oblivious to matters of the heart, his face twisted in confusion. “But the dinner is over already.”

“Izuku.” You tugged on his hand, bringing him half a step closer to you. “Ask me again.”

It seemed to dawn on him what you meant, and a blush bloomed across his face while he gathered his courage. 

“Will you be my date to my mom’s holiday dinner party?”

“Of course I will.” You giggled, knowing it was a little ridiculous that you were making him ask you again but unable to go without setting things right. You had been too oblivious to know what he meant before, but now you could fix it. 

“Really?” He asked, eyes wide, as if you weren’t holding his hand between your own. 

“If you want me to.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 

“Yeah.” Izuku nodded quickly, clearly excited. “Yeah, I really do. For real, this time.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully at his teasing jab. You were probably never going to be able to live down your misunderstanding. 

You tugged his hand once more until he was so close you had to tilt your chin up to face him. With your sudden proximity, his teasing tone vanished, replaced by one of thinly veiled nervousness. A sweetheart.

“Do you kiss on the first date?” You asked, voice innocent despite the question. Izuku’s face went red, and you could have sworn you heard him audibly swallow.

“I’m trying very hard to be cool about this, but I can’t lie to you. I’ve never been on a first date.”

Oh, now that you knew he wanted you, you were going to eat him alive.

“Do you want to kiss on the first date?” Rephrasing your question, you tilted your head slightly to the side to watch his reaction. 

“Yeah.” 

Gently, you set a hand on his cheek to guide his face closer to yours, taking the lead to press your lips against his in a short, sweet kiss. His lips were slightly chapped from the cold and how often he chewed on them, but you enjoyed the way he burned against you all the same. 

“Did the nerd finally ask you for real?”

At the sound of Bakugou’s voice, you jerked away from Izuku. With the adrenaline of Izuku’s confession, and then your kiss, you had forgotten you were only standing outside the building he lived in. It was a miracle that only Bakugou had caught you.

“Kacchan! I didn’t see you there!” Izuku, as red as ever, greeted your mutual friend with a renewed energy he hadn’t possessed when he’d been taunted with your fake date. Now that you had cleared the air about your intentions, his confidence had come back.

And apparently ruined all of Bakugou’s fun.  

“I was just leaving.” The blond rolled his eyes, shoving past the two of you with a frown and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Watching him disappear down the sidewalk, you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. 

“Did he know this whole time?” You asked Izuku. You knew you had confided in Bakugou about how you felt, and if Izuku had done the same, then he had known the entire time and could have cleared the air. 

“I… think so.”

“Oh, I’m going to kill him.”

if it’s not painfully obvious, this isn’t proofread

also i feel like i could have done so much better