thinking abt being scared to be too clingy w katsuki...
"jisu you seem like you think abt being too clingy a LOT. didn't you just recently write this fic and that fic that are basically the exact same prompt?" no you can sybau.
you’re standing in the doorway of his dorm, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
he’s sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, legs spread just enough to be inviting without trying. hoodie half-zipped, sweats hanging low on his hips, phone in one hand, completely relaxed.
you are not.
you want to sit with him. in his lap. be tucked in, held tight, kissed maybe once or twice until you melt into him like sugar in hot tea.
but your feet don’t move.
you feel like if you climb into his space first, it’ll make it obvious how badly you want it. how you’ve been thinking about it all day. how when you woke up this morning, a part of you was already aching for his arms.
and what if he doesn’t want that right now?
what if he’s tired, or busy, or just not feeling it?
you shift from foot to foot.
his eyes flick up for only a second before going back to his phone.
“you comin’ in or just gonna stand there lookin’ like an idiot?”
your cheeks flush a little.
“shut up.”
he hums. doesn’t banter. just sets his phone aside, like, completely, not even face-up, and looks at you properly now. tilts his head a little.
and you see it. the way his gaze softens. the way his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile, because if he does, the world will probably collapse or something.
he opens his arms. slow, easy.
“c'mere.”
you hesitate. not because you don’t want to. but because you do, and that’s the part that always scares you. you want him so much. you love him with your whole heart and soul and would spend every second being close with him if you could. but does he? are you being too much? too clingy? your own insecurity and self-doubt eats at you.
he catches that in your face. always does. so he adds, voice lower now:
“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make me ask twice.”
maybe the nickname does it. or maybe it's his tone, or the look in his eyes. either way, it does you over.
you pad over quietly, still a little unsure, until you’re standing between his knees. he reaches for your hips, not rough like how he does most things, but careful, like he doesn’t want to rush you.
“lemme hold you, yeah?”
you nod.
and that’s it.
he pulls you in, smooth and easy, guiding you into his lap like you’ve always belonged there. one arm wraps firm around your lower back. the other slides up under your hoodie to settle warm against your spine.
he exhales deep, like tension he didn’t even notice was there just fell out of his chest.
“fuck. there you are.”
you melt.
your face tucks into his neck. your arms go around his shoulders. your whole body curls up like it knows exactly how to fit against him now. no more guessing. no more hovering.
he rubs your back, slow and steady, fingers dragging ticklishly but soothingly along skin.
“you don’t gotta wait for me to say it every time,” he mumbles into your hair.
“if you want this, just take it. always want you close.”
you nod against his neck, lips brushing warm against his pulse.
and he holds you tighter, just for a moment, like he needs to be sure you believe it.
— file brief : a girl labeled “too much” her whole life discovers, through Katsuki Bakugo, that she was never the problem—she just needed to be understood.
— sensitivity log : family emotional invalidation
mislabeling emotions / “anger” as a narrative
low self-worth
mentions of arguments and crying
healing through safe relationships
— author’s note : my bio says “where feelings get turned into fiction (and vice versa)” and I took that personally
this piece is for the girls who were called “too much” when they were just feeling everything at once.
you were never hard to love—just not understood by the right people.
also… comeback! just to disappear again because your girl decided to study biomedical engineering (i love it, don’t worry).
hope you love it deeply—and maybe cry just a little, the same way I did. <3
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Your family always thought you were just… mad.
Mad at the world, mad at them, mad at life.
You tried to be nice. You tried to do your absolute best in everything, but you never seemed to fit in.
You tried to talk during family dinners, tried to smile politely, but it never felt quite right.
As you grew up, you started to notice something else.
You didn’t exactly like your family—like, if you had met them anywhere else, you probably wouldn’t have befriended them.
And then… you noticed something more.
They didn’t like your emotions.
You were angry—an argument started.
You were frustrated—they got annoyed.
You were sad and crying—you were wrong.
They said you were “too much.”
Too loud. Too intense. Too difficult.
And it wasn’t that they didn’t love you…
they just didn’t know how to be patient with you.
So you became the “angry daughter.”
You smiled in pictures, but never really laughed at the table.
You made jokes, but always carefully.
You never cried, never showed anything too real—
and when you felt too much, your face went blank.
And somehow, even that made them upset.
Eventually, their words started to stick.
That no one would ever “put up with that attitude of yours.”
That no one would ever love your character.
That no one would ever be patient enough for you.
So you believed them.
Until you met him.
Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t what you expected.
He was loud.
Blunt.
Explosive in every sense of the word.
The kind of person your family would’ve called “too much” within five minutes.
And yet…
He never once told you that you were.
If anything, he understood it.
The first time you snapped in front of him—really snapped—you braced yourself.
For the argument. For the dismissal. For the look.
But he didn’t flinch.
He just looked at you, eyes sharp, steady…
and said, “Then say it properly. Don’t choke on it.”
No judgment.
No annoyance.
Just… expectation.
Like your feelings weren’t a problem—
just something you needed to get out.
It threw you off more than anger ever could.
It wasn’t that he completed you—you already knew you were whole.
And it wasn’t that he ignored your “attitude.”
He saw it. Every bit of it.
And stayed anyway.
The first time you laughed in front of him, it was loud.
Unfiltered.
For a second, you froze—
waiting for the reaction you’d learned to expect.
But he just smirked.
“Damn. You’ve got a real laugh, huh?”
No mockery.
No discomfort.
Just… acceptance.
The first time you cried in front of him, it was worse.
You didn’t mean to. It just happened.
Everything spilling out at once—messy, overwhelming, too much.
You tried to pull away immediately, embarrassed, already apologizing—
But he didn’t let you.
One hand came up, firm, grounding, pulling you back against him.
“Quit apologizing,” he muttered.
“Just let it out.”
And he stayed.
Through all of it.
No sighs.
No irritation.
Just presence.
The first time you argued…
You were ready for it to break.
You raised your voice.
Your chest tightened.
Your words came out sharper than you meant them to.
And still—
He didn’t yell over you.
Didn’t throw your insecurities back at you.
Didn’t walk away.
He waited.
Let you finish.
Then grabbed your hand—firm, grounding, impossible to ignore.
“Now listen,” he said.
And he explained how he felt.
Clearly. Directly. No games.
And when you struggled to respond—when you couldn’t even untangle your own emotions—
He didn’t get frustrated.
“Figure it out. I’m not going anywhere.”
Simple as that.
No pressure.
No threat of leaving.
Just certainty.
It was… something you had never known before.
So when you started dating,
when he proposed—awkward, blunt, completely him—
when you got married and built a life that felt… yours—
you found yourself thinking about your family.
About how they had never seen this version of you.
The one who laughed too loud.
Who cried without apologizing.
Who spoke without filtering every word.
And for a moment… you almost wished they could.

But then you felt his hand in yours—warm, steady, real—
Ft. Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader
A completed series.
Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down its borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's too late for some people. The dead have risen and are looking for revenge.
Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, heavy angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, updates thursday/sunday, slow burn, wd: 1k - 5k, its a quirkless! au, so u.a is a private high school with general education along with classes that have hands-on experience; like a trade school.
✓ HEAVILY EDITED: s1 - s5 has been heavily edited as of 7/15/24 - 9/16/24, s6 - s9 has finally been edited as of 9/16/24 - 11/22/23, so a few things may not make sense if you are re-reading or the comments do not make sense.
Inspired by, ''The Walking Dead''
Table of contents:
Season 1: The beginning of us.
Episode 1: Begin
Episode 2: Not alone
Episode 3: Gone but not forgotten
Episode 4: You belong in this world
Episode 5: Because all life is precious
Episode 6: Musutafu, we'll meet again
Episode 7: Izuku: I'd always thought there be more time
Season 2: The setting I lived for.
Episode 8: During these two weeks
Episode 9: Diopside, like your eyes
Episode 10: For the first time in a long time
Episode 11: Determined to survive, stay alive
Episode 12: Imperturbable
Episode 13: Almost complete
Episode 14: Katsuki: You are going to beat this world
Season 3: The completion of us.
Episode 15: Away with you
Episode 16: Three months ago
Episode 17: Disappear
Episode 18: Thin ice
Episode 19: Nothing else to lose
Episode 20: My savior
Episode 21: Shoto: Everything you would be will be gone
Season 4: The torture realization.
Episode 22: Trouble
Episode 23: For however long that'll be
Episode 24: The fallen city
Episode 25: Stay who you are
Episode 26: Here with you
Episode 27: All together
Episode 28: F/n: A soul yet to be mourn
Season 5: The dawn to you.
Episode 29: Back on road
Episode 30: Lost
Episode 31: Safe in your arms
Episode 32: And so it begins
Episode 33: At stake
Episode 34: To be forgiven
Episode 35: Familiar face
Season 6: The journey to you.
Episode 36: Solace
Episode 37: A stab through my ticker
Episode 38: Never to easy
Episode 39: To good for death
Episode 40: Dreams of my hateful memories
Episode 41: A stroke of luck
Episode 42: Be aware
Episode 43: Bait
Episode 44: A thump in my heart
Episode 45: Belong to me
Episode 46: One step closer (Towards you)
Season 7: The ache in my heart.
Episode 47: Sorston
Episode 48: Bitter tenderness
Episode 49: Here to stay
Episode 50: The start
Episode 51: Powder
Episode 52: Good morning and goodbye
Episode 53: For they may be my last
Episode 54: An end to sorrow, grief & regret
Episode 55: Even when I'm sleeping
Episode 56: Reporting to duty
Episode 57: I dream of you like I'm afraid tomorrow will be the last I see you
Season 8: The beauty of choice.
Episode 58: Not who you were
Episode 59: Just you, me and the others
Episode 60: The Plaza
Episode 61: The other side
Episode 62: To be ready
Episode 63: You're here
Episode 64: My dear
Episode 65: Secrets you'll soon share
Episode 66: Discard me
Episode 67: To wish you well
Episode 68: For as long as we live
Episode 69: Like a flower I bloom and then later fade away
Season 9: The missing.
Episode 70: I'll see you in a while
Episode 71: So wait for me
Episode 72: Hushed secrets
Episode 73: I wanna get it through to you
Episode 74: It won't be long
Episode 75: My heart echoes
Episode 76: Amend
Episode 77: Consumed in dark
Episode 78: When you wake up, you'll remember this, I promise you
Episode 79: Just a little longer
Episode 80: Last man standing
Season 10: The end of us.
Episode 81: The day came in which you left me
Episode 82: And all I have is nothing but memories of you
Episode 83: While I pass these lonely hours listen to my lullaby
Episode 84: Flurry night
Episode 85: Pang
Episode 86: Keep you close
Episode 87: You were born for this world
Episode 88: With you
Episode 89: No light for you to follow
Episode 90: Meet me at the graveyard
➠ 356 Days
The end...
Playlist!
Space junk - Wang Chung
Wolf - First Aid Kit
Into The Black - Chromatics
My Life In Rewind
Run Boy Run - Woodkid
Bad Before Good - Day One
You're so Cool - Jonathon Bree
So Bored - Gorgeous Bully
Operations - Duster
Civilian - Wye Oak
Can't Stop - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns N' Roses
Skyfall - Adele
Up the wolves - The Mountains Goats
Be Gone Dull Cage - Kiev
Into Dust - Mazzy Star
Tomorrow Is a Long Time - Bob Dylan
Poison Tree - Grouper
Rhymes Of An Hour - Mazzy Star
You Are The Wilderness - Voxhaul Broadcast
Running - Delta Spirit
People, Turn Around - Delta Spirit
The Lion's Roar - First Aid Kit
Pain - Boy Harsher
Setup - Favored Nations
This Old Death - Ben Nichols
Revolution - Red Shahan
Mr. Splitfoot - Paris Motel
The Man Who Sold The World - Nirvana
Beautiful Mess - Balian
The Day The World Went Away - Nine Inch Nails
Empty Words - Bowery Electric
No Longer Making Time - Slowdive
Hush - Trills
Struggling Man - Emily Kinney
The Last Pale Light In the West - Ben Nichols
Blackbird Song - Lee Dewyze
Step Away From the Cliff - Blue-Eyed Son
Take Care (To Comb Your Hair) - Ty Segall
Paradise - Silverberg
No Peace At All - Aldous Harding
Glad I Had a Friend - Galt MacDermot
Machine Gun - Portishead
Shadows of Planes - Duster
Save Us from Ourselves - Digital Daggers
Salt in the Wound - Delta Spirit
I'm No Heroine - Emily Wells
It's All Right - Sam Cooke
To Build A Home - The Cinematic
6 Underground - Sneaker Pimps
Edge Of The World- Dayshell
Bye Bye Bye - School of Seven Bells
You Are Not Alone - Mavis Staples
Welcome - Harmonia & Eno '76
Hope We Can Again - Nine Inch Nails
outside - Oneheart
sleepless - Odyzon
Arsonist's Lullabye - Hozier
It's All Over - Johnny Cash
The Stars Just Blink for Us - Say Hi
Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division
Knockin' On Heaven's Door - Guns N' Roses
Runnin' Down A Dream - Tom Petty
Fly Like An Eagle - Steve Miller Band
Alesund - Sun Kil Moon
Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd
Wicked Game - Chris Isaak
1908 - Repulsive
Rule of Rose OST - Playing Airship
I Shall Cross This River - The Black Atlantic
Easy Way Out - Low Roar
Don Abandons Alice - John Murphy
Wherever You Are - Ulrich Schnauss
Waitin' Around to Die - Townes Van Zandt
Hope Prevails - Jesper Kyd
Take Me Home - Lazyroom
A Song For You - Leon Russell
❥ CW : Heavy emotional angst, Mentions of blood/injury, Mentions of weapons, Fear of death/loss
❥ IN WHICH, Katsuki commits himself to protecting the woman he loves from a truth that could destroy her—even if it meant staining his hands with blood to keep her secret buried in the silence between them.
❥ WC : 3135
❥ Shadows Of Silence Ⅰ ɞ·˚
The silence of the house was a physical weight, heavier than the reinforced steel of the compound's outer walls.
Sunday morning brought a dimmed light through the boarded windows. Y/N moved through her usual routine with precision—showering until the water ran cold, pulling on a clean thermal shirt, tidying up her hair.
For the past two days, Katsuki had been a ghost in their home—leaving before she woke up, his presence marked only by the faint scent of gunpowder and the rhythmic, metallic snick-slide of his sidearm being cleaned in the other room. His explosive temper was gone, replaced by a frozen apathy.
She couldn't do it for a third day. The cold shoulder was one thing, but Katsuki's constant silence felt like he was preparing to erase her from his life to protect himself from the memory of how he broke down.
She found him in the small den he had converted into a tactical hub. There was a heavy smell of gun oil in the air. Katsuki was hunched over a scarred wooden table, a disassembled Glock spread out before him like a puzzle.
The door creaked on its hinges, but Katsuki didn't spare it a glance. He remained hunched over the workbench, his focus locked on the circular rub of the cloth against the steel. He didn't stop until the metal caught the light just right.
"Katsuki." Her voice lacked the strength to actually draw his eyes away from his work.
No response. The only sound was the clack of metal hitting the table as he set the slide down and reached for the barrel. His eyes were hooded, staring intensely at the steel as if he could find the answers to the universe in its reflection.
"Katsuki?" The question was soft, almost fragile. "Can you look at me? Please."
He finally broke the silence. "You're late for the morning inventory check."
"I'm not going anywhere." She stepped further into the room, the floorboards groaning under her feet. "You've been looking right through me for days—stop treating me like I'm dead."
The cloth in his hand stopped moving. His knuckles were scarred and stained with oil, tensing as he gripped the gun barrel.
"I already did my grieving." His voice was flat as he wiped the barrel. "For two years, I lived with the thought of your skin rotting and your heart stopping. I had the mercy shot mapped out in my head." He dropped the rag, the rhythmic scuffing finally gone. "Turns out I was just wasting my fucking time."
When he finally looked up, the raw intensity in his eyes nearly knocked the breath out of her. His stare was vacant, filled with a hollow, exhausted betrayal.
He looked less like a soldier and more like a man who had finally run out of things to believe in.
"You let me carry that, Y/N." His voice was a jagged whisper. "You kept that secret from me—watched me struggle under that goddamn weight—all while you were perfectly fine."
The silence that followed was sharp. He just sat there, waiting for an excuse he clearly had no intention of accepting.
His indifference was a cold wall, but Y/N felt a jagged warmth that demanded to be heard and understood.
"You think I enjoyed it?" Her voice wasn't thin anymore; it was thick with the frustration of the last two days. "You really think I sat there and laughed while you carried that weight? Like it was some kind of sick joke to watch you protect me?"
"It wasn't just about you—I was terrified." Her words tumbled out, breathless. ""I woke up every morning for months waiting for the fever to take me, wondering if it was just slow—or if I'd turned into some kind of freak. I didn't know what I was, Katsuki. I still don't. How was I supposed to give you answers when I couldn't even process it myself?"
"You had months." He threw the words back at her, stubbornly refusing to let his guard down. "Months to figure it out—"
"And when was the right time, Katsuki? Tell me!" She threw her hands up, the movement sharp and desperate. "Was it during the winter we almost starved to death? Between the grief for my brother and the fear of the next raid? We were already carrying too much. I couldn't give you another thing to protect—another target. Because that's all this 'miracle' is, Katsuki. It's a target."
She leaned over the table, her hands flat against the cold surface, forcing his gaze to stay locked on hers. There was nowhere left for him to turn. She laid her desperation bare—raw, bleeding, and real—stripping away his stubborn silence with the sheer weight of her stare.
"I spent every night alone, terrified that I was just a science project waiting to happen." She met his raw stare with a fierce, trembling intensity. "I wanted to tell you. I almost did, every single day. But you were always so... so sure of how this world worked. I couldn't bring myself to break the only thing you had left—the rules you use to keep yourself sane."
Katsuki's hand, still resting heavy on the disassembled gun, gave a sharp, involuntary twitch. His jaw stayed locked so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek, a sharp pulse against his skin.
He clung to his silence like a shield, refusing to let even a breath escape until he could regain control of the reality she had just shattered.
"I'm sorry I let you mourn me." She whispered, her voice now dying out into a hollow ache. "Please, don't act like this was a choice I made to hurt you. I was a coward, Katsuki. Plain and simple. I didn't know how to reach for you without breaking us both."
The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The air was thick with the things they hadn't said for months, and for a long moment, the only sound was the distant, muffled wind whistling through the boarded-up windows.
The fight seemed to leak out of him, leaving his shoulders slumped in a way that made him look smaller than he ever had. He stared at the grease stains on the table, his chest hitching in a shallow, uneven rhythm.
He reached up, his movements jerky and uncoordinated, as he dragged the back of his hand across his eyes. It was a quick, aggressive motion—an attempt to kill the moisture gathering there before it could fall. He wasn't supposed to be the one crying. He was the shield; he was the one who did the killing so she didn't have to.
"I don't have anything else." He rasped, his voice cracking on the final word. He didn't look up, but his hand moved to the edge of the table, gripping the wood.
"The world already ended, Y/N. It's all fucking rot.." He lifted his head, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes was staggering. His lashes were damp, and a single, traitorous tear escaped, tracing a path through the faint smudge of gun oil on his cheek.
"The only reason I stayed standing in this hellhole was because of you. Nothing else is left for me here.. Besides you." The anger was gone, replaced by a profound understanding.
He reached out, his hand hovering over hers for a slight second before he pulled back, unsure if he still had the right to touch her.
Katsuki realized now that while he had been mourning her, she had been drowning in a different kind of fear—one he hadn't been there to help her carry.
For the first time in two days, the coldness had melted. "I'm sorry—I'm a fucking idiot for making you feel like you had to handle that alone."
Katsuki pushed his chair back, the legs scraping against the floorboards with a dull groan. He stood up slowly, as if his limbs were sore, and took the two steps necessary to close the distance between them. For a heartbeat, he just stood there, his shadow falling over her. Then, he reached out.
His arms wrapped around her with a sudden, desperate strength, pulling her flush against his body. One hand splayed across the small of her back while the other buried itself in her hair, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. He smelled of gun oil and stale coffee—the familiar scent of her home.
He squeezed her so tight it was almost hard to breathe, but it was the most grounded she had felt in months.
"I'm still an asshole, and I'm sorry.." He muttered against her temple, his voice muffled and vibrating through her skin. "I'm still gonna lose my mind every time you get too close to a walker. I'm still gonna be the one to protect you."
"I don't care if your blood is magic or if you're the last person on earth. Nothing is touching you. Not the dead, and sure as hell not the living."
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his thumbs brushing away the stray dampness on her cheeks. His eyes were still rimmed with red, but the hollow betrayal had been replaced by a fierce, protective light.
He tilted his head and captured her lips in a soft kiss—a quiet, lingering promise. It was a gentle reminder that despite the lies and the grief, they were still the only two people who mattered in this rotting world.
When he finally pulled away, he didn't let go. He kept his hands on her waist, anchoring her to him.
"Don't ever do that again." He murmured, his voice regaining a bit of its usual rough grit. "Don't ever think you have to carry a goddamn thing without me."
He leaned down, his lips brushing against her forehead. "I love you."
Y/N let out a breath she felt like she'd been holding for two days, her forehead resting against his chest. "I love you too, Katsuki. Always."
They stayed like that for a moment, the tension finally bleeding out of the room. But as Katsuki began to pull back, he noticed the way her gaze lingered on his chest, her fingers twitching against his shirt. There was a hesitation in her eyes, a flicker of something that wasn't quite fear, but a lingering uncertainty.
"Talk to me." He said, his voice dropping into that rough, attentive tone he reserved only for her.
"There's.. Something I didn't get to show you."
Katsuki's expression guarded over instantly, his instincts snapping back to high alert. "What? Did you receive something? Is the bandage leaking?"
"No." She whispered. "Just.. look."
Slowly, she reached for the hem of her sleeve. Katsuki watched her hand with a hawk-like intensity, his breath hitching as she peeled the fabric back. He expected to see the missing chunk of skin from the bite—the wound he had wrapped only forty-eight hours ago.
He leaned in, his eyes scanning her forearm for the mark of the teeth, for the bruised skin, for even a faint scar.
But there was nothing.
The skin was smooth, pale, and completely unblemished. There wasn't a scab, a scratch, or even a lingering redness. It was as if the trauma of the last two days had been a collective fever dream.
Katsuki froze. He reached out, his calloused fingers trembling as they brushed over the spot where he knew the wound had been. He pressed down lightly, searching for a hidden tenderness, but her skin was warm and perfect under his touch.
"It's gone.." He breathed, the word barely a whisper. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with a new, terrifying kind of wonder. "It hasn't even been two days. That was a deep hit. How the hell is it gone?"
Katsuki's fingers didn't move. They stayed locked onto her forearm, his thumb sweeping over the unblemished skin again and again as if he could rub away the impossibility of it.
"I don't know." Her voice trembled slightly. She looked down at her own arm, her brow furrowed in a mix of awe and a lingering, cold dread. "The scratch from a few months ago.. that took a week or two to fade. But this? I felt the teeth hit bone. I thought I'd at least have a scar."
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for some kind of support. "This is the first time it's happened this fast."
Katsuki let out a sharp exhale that sounded like a curse. His hand moved from her arm, but only so he could rake his fingers through his ash-blond hair, pulling at the strands in a fit of restless energy.
"Forty-eight hours.." He mumbled to himself, pacing a small semi-circle in front of her. "Two days to knit muscle and skin back together like it was nothing. That's not just immunity, Y/N. That's.. Impossible."
He turned back to her, his expression shifting from wonder to a steady focus. The protective instinct that had been simmering in him for years suddenly boiled over into something much more stronger.
"You don't show anyone." He commanded. He stepped back into her space, his hands coming up to gently grip her shoulders, his gaze searing into hers. "You keep it covered, and don't let anyone in here. Not even uraraka."
The reality of what this meant was crashing down on him. If the world found out she was immune, they'd want her blood. But if they found out she could heal like this? They wouldn't just want her blood; they'd want to take her apart to see how the gears turned.
They were still drowning in the aftermath of their conversation when a heavy, insistent thudding against the front door shattered the moment. It was a violent reminder that the world outside didn't care about their grief—and it was coming for them.
His hand reflexively hovered over the holster on the table, as he threw a warning look at Y/N, a silent command to pull her sleeve down, before he moved to the door. He didn't open it immediately; he peered through the small reinforced viewing slit.
"It's Sato." Katsuki muttered, his voice tight. Heavily sighing, he unbolted the door, but only halfway, blocking the entrance with his shoulder.
Sato stood there, looking exhausted, holding a handheld device that looked like a modified thermal scanner. "Bakugo! Sorry for the early wake-up call. I need to run a scan on both of you."
Katsuki's eyes narrowed, his hand gripping the doorframe. "Since when? We did the intake check on friday when we got back from the building."
"Since three in the morning, unfortunately." Sato sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "Protocol just changed. One of our guys turned in his sleep. We nearly had a full-blown breakout in the barracks before we put him down. Command isn't taking chances. Everyone gets scanned. Head and neck. Green for clean, red for the rot!"
The blood in Katsuki's veins turned to ice. He stood his ground for a second too long, his mind racing through a dozen ways to refuse, but he knew that would only draw suspicion.
"Fine. Do me first." Katsuki sternly spoke. "Do the scan, then get the hell out. I don't have time for this bureaucratic bullshit." Sato lifted the device, the sensor clicking as it swept over the base of Katsuki's forehead. A soft, steady beep followed, and the LED on the machine glowed a vibrant, healthy green.
"You're good." Sato murmured, stepping forward. "Y/N next?"
Katsuki hesitated, his jaw clenched as he slowly stepped aside to let Sato into the small entryway. Y/N was standing by the table with her hands tucked behind her back.
"Good morning, Y/N!" Sato said with a small, weary smile. He was a familiar face, one of the few who didn't flinch when Katsuki barked orders. "The mess hall is serving actual coffee today if you get down there before ten. After the scan, you're cleared for the supply run."
He stepped toward her, raising the scanner. Y/N felt Katsuki's gaze burning into the side of her head, his entire body coiled like a literal spring, ready to snap.
Click. Click.
The device whirred, processing the biological data from the base of her brain. Sato was still talking, his voice light. "We're thinking of heading out to the—"
The sentence died in his throat.
The steady hum of the machine broke into a frantic, high-pitched chirping. The green light didn't flicker. Instead, a harsh, bleeding red illuminated Sato's startled face.
The silence that followed was deafening. Sato's smile vanished, his eyes widening as he looked from the screen to Y/N, his hand instinctively dropping toward the pistol at his hip.
"It's.. it's red?" Sato whispered, his voice trembling. "Y/N, why is it red?"
Sato took a cautious step back, his face draining of color. His fingers twitched near his holster, his gaze darting between the glowing red screen and Y/N's clear, terrified eyes.
"T-There's no way.." Sato stammered, his voice cracking. "The machine doesn't glitch on a viral load this high—Y/N, you should be.. You should be turning right now. You should be showing signs!"
Y/N stood frozen, unable to speak. She looked at Sato, then turned her head slowly toward Katsuki. Her eyes were wide, pleading, searching for the brilliant, tactical mind that always found a way out. Help me, her silence screamed. Tell him it's broken. Tell him anything.
But Katsuki wasn't looking at the machine. And he wasn't looking at her.
His gaze was fixed entirely on Sato's head, his expression a mask of cold, lethal calculation. The air in the room didn't just feel heavy—it felt electrified, the way it did seconds before a lightning strike.
Before Y/N could even find her voice to lie, she saw Katsuki's hand already blurring towards the heavy grip of the pistol tucked beneath his waistband.
Katsuki didn't see a comrade anymore; he saw a death warrant. Every instinct he possessed, honed by years of surviving the end of the world, narrowed down to a single truth—Y/N was the only thing that made him human, and if the cost of keeping her was becoming the monster everyone else feared, he'd pay it without a second thought.
The crushing weight of the risk—the betrayal, the hunt, the certain death that followed treason—felt like nothing compared to the hollow, terrifying void of a world without her in it.
He would forge the lies and burn the records, ensuring the reality of what she had become remained hidden away in the only sanctuary left; the space between them. No one would touch her, and no one would ever know.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ dk x bk x reader zombie apocalypse au (based on the walking dead universe) ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆
2.1k wc
٠࣪⭑ cw: zombie apocalypse au, blood, gore, genre-typical violence, zombies are called 'walkers', creepy men (they turn), weapons (guns, knives, baseball bat), erm lmk if i forgot any
it would have been better if they'd knocked you out, you think.
your hands are bound tight, so tight that the rope is rubbing your wrists raw as you try to loosen the knot. it stays solid as ever, despite your wriggling. maybe you shouldn't be tearing at your skin like this to escape, but you can hear the walker down the road getting closer and closer. the sun over head is violent, beating down on you relentlessly, and sweat trickles down the side of your face and the back of your neck, pools in your palms and under your arms. it's hard to think straight in this kind of heat, and you've been rationing water for the last few days so you're already closer to dehydration than not.
how is it that your choices are a) wait for your captors to return and take you somewhere that's sure to be even worse than this hell on earth you're currently living in or b) become one of the festering corpses that walk the roads day in and day out – only, you guess you wouldn't even walk anywhere if you turned, not bound like this.
the men are still inside the station. after they'd caught you, they'd dragged you outside and tied you to a fence post.
"sit tight," the one with the scaly voice said, sneer stretched across his filthy face. "don't go runnin' off now, the big boss'll love you."
you said nothing, just narrowed your eyes and set your jaw. the other one kicked your shoulder, hard, and grinned when you winced and grunted at the pain.
"real pretty." he'd licked his lips and you'd felt sick to your stomach, the way he looked at you. and then they'd gone in to the station to scavenge supplies, circling around to find another entrance and see what was inside.
now here you sit, listening to the growling and moaning grow closer and closer. the walker is probably... a hundred, hundred-and-fifty yards away? you don't think it's caught your scent yet, and the shuffling seems to be staying at a slow pace. still, you feverishly pick at the rope binding your hands, fruitlessly hoping it will come undone. your bag, carelessly thrown about ten feet from your bound feet, seems to be taunting you, beckoning you, so close and at the same time entirely inaccessible. if you could just get free–
but the knot stays strong.
you're wondering what the hell to do when you hear quick, quiet footsteps. you're not sure if you should be relieved or terrified. head on a swivel, you try and make out where the steps are coming from – to your left, or–maybe your right–no, it's definitely closer to your left. coming from the same direction as that farmhouse about a half a mile down. you'd passed it on your way, a tiny old thing with a decrepit oak in the front yard, and a crumbling concrete walkway leading to a metal front door. you'd almost gone in to look for any supplies, but something about the place had felt.... dangerous. like if you opened that door it would be the last thing you ever did.
should you call out? it could get you killed, but – there's a slim chance that maybe... maybe, the footsteps are someone who can help you. heart hammering, you decide to speak. you haven't spoken aloud in weeks and your throat feels like sandpaper, so you try to swallow (it doesn't help).
"he–" your voice gives out on you. you take a deep breath and try again. "hey." the footsteps slow. "hello?" then they stop. you whip your head around furiously, seeing nothing. "h-hey! hey, is there... is someone there?"
the walker down the road is getting closer and closer. you hear it groan – maybe eighty, ninety yards away now.
"i–if anyone is there, please–i'm tied, i've been captured"–your head turns in the walker's direction as you hear its shuffling pace increase–“i just need this rope cut," you hiss.
silence.
"i know someone is there," you implore. "these–inside, are they your people? no, no–please, i need out of my bindings. they tied me up and said they were gonna take me somewhere, i'm just–i won't, please, just help me get free, the walkers–"
so swiftly and silently you'd almost miss it, a sharp blade severs the rope around your wrists. springing up, you lunge for your bag and fall onto your stomach on the concrete drive because of the rope still binding your legs. your hand manages to wrap around the handle of your pack and you drag it closer, but before you can even unzip it the rope around your ankles is slashed, too.
down the road the walker shuffles faster and faster, maybe fifty yards or closer at this point.
you scramble to your feet, looking around for your weapons and cursing when you see that they're gone, save for the spare carving knife you keep buried deep in your bag, wrapped in a shirt. then you turn to finally get eyes on your rescuer.
the first guy stands closer to the fence. probably in his twenties, if you had to guess. he's not too tall, but he's not what you'd call short, either. taller than you, anyway. his unruly hair is a deep shade of green, almost black with soot and dirt; scars cover his hands and peek out of his collar with a long one vertically under his eye that looks pink in the sun; there's a wickedly sharp machete gripped in his palm and his other hand hovers near the gun at his waist; even in the baking heat, he wears long sleeves rolled up to the elbow, a dirty blue shirt with a faded print on the front that you can't make out, but it looks vaguely super hero related; a backpack is slung over one shoulder. the most striking thing about him is his eyes: they're emerald, almost the same shade as his hair, and piercing. he glances around uneasily.
the other guy hangs back, with a stance that says he's itching to move on. also likely in his twenties, looks to be around the same age but he's taller, only slightly, with spiky blonde hair and a mean expression on his face. his lip is curled in disgust as he checks out the walker drawing steadily closer. he's dressed head to toe in black, with a baseball bat covered in nails in one of his hands and a rifle strapped to his back. there's scars on his arms too, and he even has one under the same eye as the other, only horizontal, stretching in the opposite direction. his other hand fidgets with a long bowie knife, and he shifts from foot to foot, grip tight on his bat. he adjusts the black baseball cap on his head with the handle of the knife and grunts.
"it's time to go."
the man with green hair looks back at him silently, and they seem to have some sort of argument with their eyes. only, you don't care to watch and see who wins, shifting your attention towards scaling the fence you were tied to just moments before. you're near the top when you look around the station road and... it's bad. it's really bad. walkers are slowly shifting towards the station, coming from both directions on the road – not a herd, but enough to make escape extremely difficult. and dangerous. the green haired man starts to say, "are you–"
"hey deku"–the blonde spits with vitriolic urgency–"clock's ticking." he looks from the man with green hair (deku?) to the closest walker closing in and back again.
you reach half-way down the other side of the fence and jump the rest of the way down, dropping into a crouch and unzipping your bag to see if you can reach your knife. there's no way you'll survive without something to use as a weapon. you grope around blindly, shoving your hand deeper your anxious search; your hand barely wraps around the makeshift t-shirt sheath when–
"fuck," the blonde growls, hefting his bat in his hand. the walker is only ten yards away now, snarling and rushing forward at the prospect of fresh blood and tissue. the man steps forward and swings the bat down decisively in a punishing blow, and blood erupts from the walker's head. it stumbles to the ground, where the man drops quickly to his knees and stabs it through the eye socket with his knife. he shoots you a withering glance before shifting his attention to the one he called 'deku' before. "move, dumbass!"
your hand curls around the handle of your spare–now only–knife and you pull it out before zipping your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. only now do you really have a solid grasp of your surroundings, and... well, you're surrounded. you have eyes on at least ten walkers, maybe fifteen, shuffling or crawling along with their signature wailing cries. 'deku' looks back at the blonde and seems to decisively win their silent argument. then he looks to you.
"stay close to me," he says lowly, blade wielded in front of you both.
"damn it!" the other man exclaims, striking out at another walker and taking this one down with one blow. the three of you carve a path and dart through the line of walkers directly in front of you. one reaches out to grab your arm and 'deku' slices a wide arc with the machete, giving you the opportunity to take the corpse down with a swift stab to the face; your blade sinks into the flesh with a sickening crunch. you quickly move to shove it off and turn to keep moving forward. once the path is clear of any dead, the blonde man breaks into a run, and 'deku' looks back at you once, his message still clear, written all over his features: stay close to me.
"we need to get to the car!" he calls.
"the way back is full of 'em," the other man shouts back, cursing again when more walkers wander out from behind the fire station. among them are two that look familiar, and with horror (and a twisted sense of satisfaction), you realize it's the same men who'd tied you up and threatened to take you back to some 'boss'. looks like they hadn't been lucky inside after all.
'deku' scans the scene with a discerning eye, face set in an expression of concern and concentration. he seems to be counting walkers, which now seem to be streaming from all directions, mumbling calculations under his breath before springing into action and cutting a zig-zag path through. he dashes fifty yards down the road to a car pulled over that you hadn't noticed before. you're quick to follow, running as fast as you can to the vehicle and yanking open the back door, practically diving into the seat. the blonde slips into the driver's side and takes the keys 'deku' holds out, turning them in the ignition – to your immense relief, the engine purrs nice and smooth. he slams the gas, hurtling forward into a walker and sending it flying in the air, blood and viscera splattering the windshield. then he turns on the wipers as you speed down the road, weaving around walkers at a breaking speed until you're free from the swarm.
the man in the passenger's seat twists around to face you.
"what's your name?" he asks. his voice is surprisingly melodic, now that you're slightly out of the fire and in less dire circumstances; it has this soft, lilting quality that makes you feel more at ease. still, your guard is high, with your knife clutched in a vice-like grip.
you tell him and he nods, opening his mouth to speak, but the angry looking man in the driver's seat interrupts your introduction. "we can drop you somewhere once we get clear of this area."
deku shoots him a look. "kacchan–"
"no more strays!" 'kacchan' barks accusingly, glaring at you through the rear view mirror. "damn it, we said no more strays–"
"where are you headed?" you cut in. 'kacchan' wheels around like he means to chew you out and 'deku' shoves at his shoulder lightly.
"eyes on the road!" he looks back at you. "north. we're planning on skating around the city and following the road into the state over."
"drop me there," you say, finally easing your grip on your knife a little. not enough to let go, just enough that your knuckles stop turning white.
the driver grunts. "done–"
"–you don't wanna go there. it's been completely overrun, and we've heard the fighting in the city is brutal–"
"–deku, stop trying to pick up strays!–"
"drop me there," you repeat, more emphatically. "or, i can figure a better landing spot once we're closer, at least." he nods. you pause, glancing at your knife before looking up at them. "thank you," you say, "for freeing me back there, and for the walkers... thanks. i owe you one."
'deku' smiles. "don't mention it."
in the driver's seat, the blonde sighs. he mutters something about predictable and do this every fuckin' time, but you're not listening anymore, adrenaline starting to wear thin. a sense of deep exhaustion settles over your body and you fight to stifle a yawn.
you slide your pack off your shoulders and let out a deep breath you don't realize you've been holding on to until it's free. for the first time, in a long time, you just sit, chin in your palm, and gaze out the car window at the scenery whizzing by.
When bf Bakugo calls her spoiled but he's the one who set that system up ^_^
Nobody warned you that dating Katsuki Bakugo would completely ruin your ability to function normally around affection.
Which honestly felt unfair considering he was the one responsible for it in the first place.
Because before him, you were perfectly capable of doing things yourself. You carried your own bags without complaint, opened your own drinks, reached for things on high shelves without immediately looking around for help first. You survived perfectly fine without somebody automatically fixing your necklace clasp when it twisted the wrong way or pulling your chair out absentmindedly before you even sat down.
Then Katsuki happened.
And suddenly somewhere along the line, your standards got impossibly, horrifically high.
Not because he spoiled you intentionally either. That was the worst part.
Katsuki loved you in such a natural, consistent way that half the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It wasn’t with grand gestures or dramatic romance movie nonsense either. It was smaller than that, like quuieter. The kind of affection that slowly settles into your routine until one day you realize you genuinely don’t remember the last time you struggled with something alone because somehow Katsuki had already handled it before you even got the chance.
“Stop staring at me like that.”
His voice cut through your thoughts from across the kitchen, low and mildly suspicious, and when you looked up properly, Katsuki was already glancing at you over his shoulder from where he stood near the stove.
The apartment smelled faintly like garlic, black pepper, and whatever body wash he used lately that kept sticking to his shirts afterward. One of the windows above the sink was cracked open slightly, letting cool evening air drift inside while the city lights glowed faintly outside.
You were sitting at the kitchen counter in one of his old shirts, chin resting lazily against your palm while watching him cook.
Or more specifically—watching the way his forearms flexed every time he moved the pan.
Which, in your defense, was distracting.
“Like what?” you asked innocently after a second, blinking at him like you genuinely had no idea what he meant.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes immediately at the tone of your voice, already looking unconvinced before you even finished speaking.
“Like I’m about to buy you something,” he muttered, turning back toward the stove again with a quiet click of his tongue. “You get that look every time you want something.”
A pause settled briefly between the two of you before your brows lifted slowly.
“…Are you?”
His head turned just enough for you to catch the flat look he sent over his shoulder.
“There it is.”
A laugh slipped quietly out of you almost immediately, your smile widening against your hand.
Because honestly? This entire situation was his fault.
“You did this to yourself, you know,” you informed him casually, adjusting your legs against the stool while he stirred something in the pan with unnecessary aggression. “I wasn’t like this before you.”
“Tch. You were absolutely high maintenance before me.”
“No,” you disagreed immediately, unable to stop smiling now. “I was independent before you.”
“That sounds fake.”
“I’m serious,” you insisted, your voice softer this time, more amused than defensive as you watched him move around the kitchen so comfortably like he belonged there. “I used to know how to function normally.”
Katsuki scoffed quietly under his breath at that, though there wasn’t much heat behind it anymore.
“What does that even mean.”
“It means,” you started dramatically, sitting up straighter now as you pointed at him accusingly from across the counter, “that before dating you, I was fully capable of opening my own drinks.”
“You still are.”
“No,” you argued immediately. “Because now you automatically do it for me before I even touch them.”
“That’s because your nails are always too damn long.”
“Exactly,” you said quickly, pointing at him harder. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
His eyes narrowed slightly while you looked entirely too pleased with yourself.
“You made my life too comfortable,” you continued after a moment quieter now, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the counter while you watched him. “And now I genuinely don’t think I can go back.”
Something in his expression shifted briefly at that. Subtle enough most people probably wouldn’t notice, but you did.
Because after years of loving Katsuki, you’d gotten embarrassingly good at noticing the tiny reactions nobody else ever caught. The way his shoulders loosened whenever he relaxed around you. The slight twitch near the corner of his mouth whenever he was trying not to smile. The quieter tone his voice slipped into without realizing it.
“You’re dramatic,” he muttered eventually, though it sounded weaker now, less like an insult and more like something he said out of habit.
“Yeah,” you agreed easily, smiling to yourself. “But am I wrong?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed your drink from beside the stove before finally walking over toward you.
You watched him quietly the entire time, your expression softening almost unconsciously as he stopped beside you. One of his hands settled briefly against the counter near your shoulder while the other held the bottle out toward you.
Already opened.
Your lips twitched immediately the second you noticed.
“Katsuki.”
“The hell.”
“You opened it again.”
“Tch. Don’t start.”
But he looked away slightly right after saying it, like he already knew exactly where this conversation was about to go.
A soft laugh escaped you while you took the drink from his hand anyway, your fingers brushing briefly against his.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” you murmured, looking up at him over the rim of the bottle. “You can’t keep doing things like this and then act surprised when I get attached to it.”
“You’re impossible.”
“No,” you corrected lightly before taking a sip. “I’m spoiled.”
“And whose fault is that?”
You smiled slowly then, unable to help it. Because he really walked directly into that one himself.
“Yours,” you answered simply, your voice quieter now, more affectionate than teasing. “Obviously.”
His expression flattened immediately like he regretted asking the second the words left his mouth.
Katsuki clicked his tongue quietly under his breath before turning away again, but not before reaching over to fix the sleeve of your borrowed shirt where it had slipped slightly off your shoulder first.
His fingers brushed against your skin briefly. Absentmindedly like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
And honestly? That was the dangerous part.
Katsuki never realized how affectionate he actually was because to him, taking care of you wasn’t some huge romantic gesture worth acknowledging.
It was instinct, natural like breathing.
He remembered things without trying to. The exact snacks you liked from convenience stores. Which drinks you preferred depending on your mood. The fact you hated crowded trains when you were tired. The specific side of the bed you slept better on.
He bought things casually if they reminded him of you. Replaced stuff before you even realized you ran out of them. Kept your favorite snacks stocked in his apartment like it was second nature now. He even carried hair ties around his wrist sometimes because you kept forgetting yours and stealing his whenever your hair annoyed you.
Then somehow still acted surprised when you became attached to being cared for.
“You are spoiled,” he muttered again a few minutes later while sliding your plate toward you across the counter.
You looked down automatically before pausing. The strawberries were already cut neatly into smaller pieces. Your eyes lifted slowly back toward him.
“…You cut the strawberries.”
Katsuki barely glanced up from the stove.
“Tch. You don’t like the leaves.”
Your expression softened immediately at how casually he said it. Like remembering tiny details about you was the easiest thing in the world.
“You literally proved my point again,” you said quietly, your voice gentler now as you looked back down at the plate. “This is why I can’t function anymore.”
“And? It's not like it's a problem.”
“It is, it’s a serious one actually,” you insisted, though your smile gave you away instantly. “If we ever break up, I’ll actually suffer.”
That made his eyes snap toward you immediately.
“The hell are you talking about.”
“I mean realistically?” you continued, trying and failing to sound thoughtful while resting your chin against your palm again. “Who else is gonna remember I hate strawberry leaves? Or warm my side of the bed first? Or carry my bags before I even ask?”
“You can hold your own damn bags.”
“But you don’t let me.”
“That’s because you start complaining after five damn minutes.”
“Exactly,” you said immediately, pointing at him once more. “You created this.”
He stared at you for a second like you genuinely exhausted him before exhaling sharply through his nose.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And deeply loved,” you corrected softly, unable to stop smiling at him now.
“Tch.”
But there it was again.
That tiny twitch near the corner of his mouth he kept trying to suppress whenever you said things like that too casually. Your eyes narrowed immediately when you noticed.
“Oh my God,” you gasped softly, leaning forward against the counter a little. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You literally are,” you laughed, already grinning too hard now. “Katsuki, you think I’m cute.”
“I think you talk too damn much.”
“But affectionately.”
Katsuki sighed heavily then, setting the spatula down before finally walking fully around the counter toward you.
“You’re annoying,” he muttered, though his hands were already settling automatically against your waist by the time he stopped between your knees.
Your arms slid lazily up his forearms without thinking.
“Yet here you are,” you murmured softly, tilting your head back just enough to look up at him properly.
“Tch.”
But he didn’t move away, didn’t let go either. And that, that right therewas exactly the problem.
Because Katsuki loved you so naturally, so constantly, that half the time he didn’t even realize how obvious it was. Meanwhile you noticed every single thing.
summary — the blond man in the club looks too old to be here. unfortunately, that only makes him hotter ᝰ.ᐟ
— cw : female reader, age gap (katsuki late 30s, reader mid 20s), flirting, drinking, pet names, suggestive .ᐟ
"Holy shit"
"I know.
"He's hot"
"I know." you whisper, shovelling the drink down your throat as you throw a glance over your shoulder.
The club reeks of sweat, booze and cheap cologne. The bass rattling so hard you're convinced your ribcage might burst. It's been three hours of this — three hours of shifting weight from one foot to the other as you pretend your feet don't ache.
In all honesty, you'd been looking for an out. racking every inch of your brain for a reason to drag mina home and spend the rest of your night in your pjs watching sitcoms — that is, until you finally found a reason to stay.
Blonde, tatted and built — and at minimum twice your age. Tucked away in a corner booth with his arm slung over the leather seat, the other clutched around a glass of amber liquor.
He looks grumpy, angry. Like someone dragged him away from his regularly scheduled programming to be here, and he was not happy about it.
His gaze barely wavers from one spot on the dance floor, scowl permanently etched on his face as the sight forces him to sip his drink. Your eyes follow his, every inch of you praying he wasn't on guard for some woman tucked between the writhing bodies.
Instead, you catch a glimpse of three men as dangerously out of place as he is — you can only imagine that they're his friends.
They look too grown to be here. broad shoulders shoved in dark button-ups, watches glinting beneath the flashing lights while they stumble over their own feet — flirting with women who cling to them like accessories.
The redhead of the group looks towards the blonde in his drunken stupor, yelling that "he's got another one coming" — yeah, they're his friends alright.
And he does — two at that.
Two women in short dresses brushing their fingers over his inked arm. he's respectful, but certainly not fazed — barely sparing them a glance as he nods along.
The conversation doesn't last a minute longer; the two of them sent off with a scoff and flat expressions, already scanning for their next target.
Mina's eyes are already on yours when you turn toward her, reaching for your drink as she smiles in his direction.
"Looks like it's now or never," she says.
Your breath catches when you're met with crimson eyes staring back, taunting and expectant — like he's been watching you longer than you realized.
He's waiting.
The glass in his hand does nothing to hide the smile on his face, light catching on the crystalline rim as he watches you expectantly. Every step feels like a beckon, willing you with the glow of his irises and the slight spread of his legs to come just a little closer.
Like you're the one being tested.
The booth feels like the only quiet spot in the club. Music and drunken chatter dulling out from your senses — until suddenly all that's left is him.
He's bigger up close. Veins trace his forearm under the low light as he swirls his drink. your eyes catch on the brazen ink — thick, intricate lines curling over every muscle.
"I like your tattoos" you say, elbows resting on the table as you try to ignore how suddenly out of place you feel.
His mouth twitches into a toothy grin, scowl once dominating his face all but gone as it's replaced by a sharper look — he's intrigued.
"Yeah? you like them?" he leans back, eyes dragging over you before it flicks back up to your face, "Means a lot coming from a pretty girl like you."
"Hm" you hum, smile matching his even as you falter under the weight of the new pet name, "They're… hot"
He lets out a quiet exhale, almost a laugh.
"The tattoos?" he tilts his head "… Or me?"
He doesn't wait for your answer. Instead, he trails a thick finger over the skin, pushing his sleeves high enough to expose the ink disappearing beneath his shirt.
Your hand reaches out before you can think, barely grazing his arm before—
"Careful," he warns, voice husky beneath the music, a roughness that hits your ears at just the right tone to make your thighs squeeze, "Some of these are older than you, pretty"
That does it.
"Really?" you tease, fingers now fully tracing the outline of his tattoo, "Is that supposed to scare me?"
You don't miss the way his eyes widen just slightly — gaze flicking to his friends who've seemingly been paying no mind to him all night — before they land on your lips.
a/n: new layout i’m playing around with, im not 100% sold but bare with me 🙂↕️ - @lonelyfooryouonly ... lwk gonna use the taglist the next time i post
masterlist. | join the taglist? comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋
summary : Percy finally realized what that song meant.
word count : 0.9k
type : imagines
pairing/s : Percy Jackson x Reader
warning/s: sexual assault (from Percy's own words "Pro tip: If you're attacked by a creep, it's never your fault. Tell somebody"). this may be triggering to some so read at your own risk.
here's my masterlist!
A Girl Worth Fighting For.
That song slaps.
Ever since Percy watched Mulan during Leo’s tragically inaccurate attempt at 'educating the youth through cinematic excellence', he hasn’t been able to get one song out of his head.
It plays at the worst times.
During training, patrol, and battles when he’s bleeding yet grinning anyway.
Because what kind of girl is worth fighting for?
Any girl, he’d once thought. You, especially.
A few days ago, Chiron sent you on a mission.
Confidential, but you told Percy anyway.
Just an island patrol. Monitor. Observe. Report back.
"Easy." You’d said with a careless shrug. "Might even be boring."
So why had Percy felt that twist in his gut when he watched you step past the camp’s barrier?
He told himself it was nothing.
You were clever.
You didn’t rush into danger headfirst.
You calculated, adapted, and survived.
He trusted you.
And when you came back, Percy knew.
Your smile was wrong.
Wide. Bright. Almost teasing.
But it didn’t reach your eyes.
It sat on your face like something glued in place.
You walked strangely.
Your legs moved like they didn’t quite belong to you.
Your shoulders were rigid, and spine too straight.
Will had to physically drag you toward the infirmary despite your firm protests.
Percy’s stomach dropped.
He had seen that before.
He remembered his mother.
The way Sally Jackson used to move around their apartment after nights with Gabe.
Too careful. Too quiet. The forced cheer in her voice.
The way exhaustion hollowed her out from the inside.
That same hollow brightness was carved into your face.
Whatever happened on that island hadn’t been a mission.
It had been something else.
Annabeth burst into Percy’s cabin without knocking.
"It’s (Y/N)."
He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to.
He followed her to the infirmary, heart pounding louder than his thoughts.
Will was there, trying to hold you steady.
"Let me go!" You screamed, eyes wild and unfocused, like you weren’t seeing the room at all. "I don’t want— I DON'T WANT THIS!"
Katsuki who's given up on hiding his crush on you Headcanons
Katsuki who is unusually calm around you. Classmates who notice genuinely ask if he’s sick. He’s grown to be more okay with the teasing from his friends. Because honestly they want the two of you together just as much as he does. (allegedly)
Katsuki who will flop down on the couch beside you. Even if the common room is full he’s given up on trying to hide anything. He feels comfortable around you and he’s tired. Nothing has to be said, just play with his hair and all is good.
Katsuki who is tormented by his classmates. They will 100% use the crush against him once people begin to notice it. Denki and Mineta will focus their efforts on you just to annoy him. Yes he knows what they’re doing, yes he’s still upset they're bothering his girl.
Katsuki who literally has heart eyes for you. He stares at you with his head resting on his hand, with just pure heart eyes. But of course you’re too busy just chatting away to notice.
“I need a man that looks at me like Bakugou looks at Y/n”
Katsuki who drags you around with him. Always grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you away. Your friends have gotten used to it, and really so have you. “Oooh where are we going? :D”
Katsuki who cannot keep his heart under control when you lean your head on his shoulder. His heart literally cannot keep a steady rhythm. (you’re killing him literally)
Katsuki who genuinely sits his friends down and asks if he’s delusional. He swears you like him too but then you don’t acknowledge when he’s sending hints. He doesn’t understand what you two are.
Katsuki who will move the hair out of your face and call you pretty. With an audience even. He just wants you to take the hint.
Katsuki who is genuinely at his wits end with you. How do you not see how much he clearly likes you? It’s gotten to the point where he thinks maybe you see and just don’t like him back. But he continues to pursue you because Mina INSISTS you have a huge crush on him. But he’s still doubtful and doesn’t want to ruin what you have by confessing.
husband!katsuki who always stares at your ring when he’s holding your hand. runs his thumb over it while you talk, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. sees it glinting in the sunlight while you nap on his chest and gets a tight, hot feeling in his chest like he could die happy right now.
husband!katsuki who never learned how to rest until he had you. comes home from patrol with tension in his shoulders, drops his bag by the door, and doesn’t relax until you kiss his jaw and say, “welcome home, baby.”
husband!katsuki who folds your laundry with his earbuds in, grumbling through it—but tucks your socks together in neat little pairs and always puts your favourite shirt on top. wipes down the bathroom sink. buys extra of your shampoo without asking. won’t say he likes domestic shit. but he does. because it means you’re not going anywhere.
husband!katsuki who can’t keep his hands off you when you wear his shirts. walks by and smacks your ass, pulls you into his lap, nuzzles into your shoulder with a low, “you tryin’ to get fucked on the couch or what?” like he’s joking—except he’s already pushing the fabric up your thighs.
husband!katsuki who still growls when you tease him—but melts the second you say, “be nice to your wife.” groans low, grabs your hips, mutters, “fuckin’ cheat code, you know that?” while dragging his mouth down your stomach.
husband!katsuki who fucks you rougher now that you’re married. not meaner. just deeper. slower. like he has something to prove. like he wants you to feel it when you walk the next day. says, “s’what you get for marryin’ me, huh?” with his fingers in your mouth and his cock buried to the base. like this is just part of the deal now.
a/n a repost from my old & inactive blog eikyuunimain (mariinktg) so if it looks familiar, that's why! likes and reblogs are much appreciated! | mha masterlist
You’re saying something, usually in that normal, not-too-loud tone you use with everyone, and Katsuki Bakugo is across from you, arms crossed, scowl half-baked, like he’s listening but not really listening. Then, inevitably, his brow furrows, and you see the moment he catches the tail end of your words but realizes he didn’t catch enough.
Instead of saying What? like a normal human being, he does this thing.
The lean.
He steps into your space, not enough to be inappropriate, but enough that you can smell the faint burn of nitroglycerin and that sharp, clean soap he pretends he doesn’t use. He tilts his head slightly down, chin angling toward you, eyes locked on your mouth like your words are something to catch before they slip away.
“What was that?” His voice is low, not because he’s trying to be gentle, but because he’s listening. It’s rough around the edges, like the sound has to be dragged over gravel before it leaves him.
You repeat yourself, a little slower this time, and his eyes don’t leave you.
“Mhm,” he says and it’s not just a sound, it’s Bakugo’s mhm. Short, deep, approving in that rare way, like he’s filing away what you said because it matters now.
One time, you were sitting at your desk in class, mumbling something about how the weather was nice, and he crouched slightly beside you to catch it, forearms resting on his knees, the sunlight streaking through the window and catching in his messy hair.
“You talk like a damn mouse,” he muttered, smirking faintly, “and then get pissed when people don’t hear you.”
“I wasn’t pissed,” you protested, looking anywhere but at him.
“Tch. Yeah, you were.” He leaned even closer, your elbows almost brushing. “Say it again.”
“…The weather’s nice,” you said, barely above a whisper.
He smirked wider, like he’d just won something. “Yeah. Guess it is.” And then he straightened up and walked away like he hadn’t just been that close for no reason.
It became a habit. Group conversations? He’d bend down slightly when you spoke, eyes narrowing in focus. Crowded hallways? He’d drop his head toward yours so you didn’t have to shout. Even during training debriefs, when you muttered something under your breath, he’d be there, leaning in with a sharp, “Say that again?” as if you were the only voice worth catching.
The worst part? You were starting to get used to it, to the way his attention made you feel like your words were worth hearing, worth leaning in for.
And he knew it.
You could see it in the small, knowing quirk of his mouth every time he straightened back up.
synopsis : you and bakugo remind an old couple of themselves… | drabble .
“tch’ cant believe your making me hold y’bag.” bakugo grumbled, tightening his grip on your charm filled school bag.
you giggled, taking another bite of the delicious treat. “you offered, remember ‘tsuki?”
bakugo flushed a light pink, “SAME THING!” he jabbed, leaning down to take a sip of your drink.
it was quiet before you spoke up again, “when should I pay you back kats—”
bakugos face flushed angrily, “I TOLD YOU DAMMIT’ DON’T TALK ABOUT PAYING ME BACK!”
“ah, sorry! I forgot..”
he rolled his eyes— though a soft smirk made it’s way upon his lips as he flicked your forehead. “stop forgetting things.”
“also! I was wondering ‘tsuki…do you wanna’ go to—” your voice trailed off as you gasped, stumbling backwards slightly.
“watch it.” the man spat, staring down at you. hands deep in his pockets as his friends laughed behind him.
before you could say anything bakugos voice sounded quietly from behind you. “what the hell..”
“kat’ wait—”
“—DID YOU JUST SAY TO HER?!”
in one swift motion your bag was dropped softly in your hands and bakugo grabbed the unknown mans collar, face inches from one another.
“YOU WANNA DIE?! YOU BUMPED INTO HER JACKASS?” his eyes were ablaze and brows furrowed.
“wait!— chill man, I was just—”
“DON’T TELL ME TO CHILL I AM CHILL YOU DAMNED EXTRA!”
you gulped nervously, watching as a handful of people slowly pulled out their phones.
“katsuki.. stop.” bakugos grip lessened on the now shaking man, his yelling quietened down almost instantly. the blonde looked down at your hand lightly gripping his blazer with a worried expression glazing over your features.
“c’mon.. there’s no use— lets go, okay?” you mumbled, pulling him ever so slightly.
bakugo grunted, dropping the man in one quick motion.
his eyes darkened as he stared daggers into the man, hair shadowing his features. “apologise.”
“s- sorry ma’am— wont h- happen again! so, so sorry!” he whimpered, hurrying off with his friends.
“thank you katsuki.. you always defend me.” you whispered, softly linking your pinky with his.
his ears peeking from his spiky hair were now tinted pink from the softness of your voice, “YEAH, YEAH.. dont gotta worry about that when m’around.” he grunted, his pinky securely holding yours.
“he reminds me of you, honey..” an old lady whispered, rubbing her husbands arm— watching as you both strolled past.
the old man rolled his eyes, “tch’ as if..” he grumbled, forehead creasing. “the brats got no damn manners..”though, the slight upturn of his lips said otherwise.
reblogs, likes and follows are appreciated !! ( ˶´ ᵕ `˶ ) posting an izuku fic next !! ✿
a/n: it's a beautiful feeling to love someone so much that you feel as though it might kill you, and i'm grateful to say that I was able to write this from experience (p.s. listen to soft spot by keshi!! and the whole 'requiem' album <3)
katsuki softens the moment he sees you. every single time.
it was a small change at first, barely noticeable. he'd be scowling, a seemingly-permanent frown etched on his face, until you walked into the room. the moment his eyes landed on you, they would lose some of their fire, his bark would lose some of its bite. it was like the storm around him would quiet for just a moment, enough for you to walk through. and he would let you.
he never thought he'd experience a love like that. never thought he was capable of being loved like that.
at first it was terrifying. because how could someone as kind, as gentle, as alive as you find him worth loving? sure, he's a guy who talks big, but that's only because he never imagined a world in which that big talk would be challenged. katsuki never thought, for a single second, that something, or someone, would walk into his life and make him question everything he thought he knew about himself.
he finds himself doing things he wouldn't normally do. he doesn't like going out, but he'd do it for you in a heartbeat. he hated conversations that just felt like nothing but words to fill the silence, until your voice came into his head, and his heart; he could listen to you talk about nonsense for hours, just to hear your voice.
he didn't like anyone, he thought. he never had, katsuki had always just assumed it wasn't in the cards for him. and he was fine with that; he had goals to chase, and all of that romance stuff could be left to the wayward. it was the last thing on his mind growing up.
until suddenly he looked up from his life and realized that you had him wrapped around your finger. and he knew wouldn't change a damn thing, despite the fear (which he was beyond fearful—katsuki was fucking terrified of how much he loved you).
he had a soft spot for you, a warm place carved in his heart that mirrored the shape of you, and it was that warmth that kept that fire in him aflame. it was that warmth that, despite the terrible feeling that came with the fear of loving you so much it felt like his heart might burst out of his chest, he kept loving you, as long as you'd let him. it's no secret that he was hoping for forever.
Pairing: Timeskip!Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugo x girlfriend!Pro Hero!reader
Genre: Fluff
WC: 1,655
Fanfiction Masterlist
Note: I love how this story so much that I decided to write another version that's in Katsuki's POV! ENJOY!!!
The second your boots hit the pavement outside the restaurant, your heart starts pounding harder than it has during any villain fight in the last year.
Tokyo feels different after being gone so long.
Familiar.
Warm.
Loud.
Home.
The city lights glow against the dark evening sky, neon signs reflecting off rain-damp sidewalks while people bustle past the upscale restaurant currently booked entirely for one very specific celebration.
A celebration for Japan’s new Number One Hero.
Katsuki Bakugo or rather King Explosion Murder God Dynamight.
You stare up at the building for a second, lips curling into a soft smile despite yourself.
Of course he did it.
Of course he clawed his way to the top with sheer rage, impossible determination, and that stubborn refusal to lose that’s been burning inside him since you first met him at U.A.
Even from across the ocean, you watched him rise.
Every interview.
Every headline.
Every clipped video online showing Dynamight blasting through disasters like a force of nature.
And every single time you saw him on screen, there was still that same sharp glare in his eyes.
The same one that softened only for you.
Your fingers tighten around the handle of your suitcase.
You hadn’t told him you were coming.
Hadn’t told anyone.
Not Kirishima.
Not Mina.
Not even Kaminari, who absolutely would’ve exploded from excitement and ruined the surprise within thirty seconds.
You’d coordinated the entire thing with Mr. Aizawa instead, because surprisingly, your exhausted former teacher was terrifyingly good at keeping secrets.
“Just don’t make a scene in the restaurant,” he had texted earlier when your flight had just landed.
At seeing that text from him, you smiled to yourself.
No promises.
After taking a deep breath, you step inside, warmth immediately washing over you alongside the sound of laughter echoing from the private dining room upstairs.
God.
You missed them.
The hostess recognizes you instantly after your hood comes down.
Her eyes widen. “Oh my god—”
You quickly lift your index finger to your lips. “Shhh.”
She slaps both hands over her mouth immediately, nodding aggressively.
Cute.
After a quick whisper explaining where the party is, she practically vibrates with excitement while leading you toward the hallway.
The closer you get, the louder the voices become.
You can hear Kaminari laughing.
Mina yelling.
Sero probably instigating something.
And over all of them—“IF YOU LOSERS DON’T SHUT THE HELL UP, I’M LEAVING.”
Your chest aches instantly.
Katsuki.
Even after months apart, you’d know his voice anywhere.
The hostess quietly opens the door for you.
The second you step inside, conversations abruptly stop.
Twenty pairs of eyes lock onto you.
Mina looks seconds away from physically exploding.
Kirishima outright stands up so fast his chair nearly tips over.
Midoriya’s jaw drops.
Even Todoroki blinks in visible surprise.
At the center of the long table, Katsuki is facing away from the door, mid-rant and completely oblivious.
“What the hell are you idiots quiet all of a—”
Before he can turn around, you lift your finger to your lips again.
Instant silence.
The entire class freezes.
Mina clamps both hands over her mouth to stop herself from squealing.
Kaminari is shaking so hard from trying not to laugh that Jirou physically grabs his shoulder.
You grin.
Then quietly—Slowly—You creep behind Katsuki’s chair.
Your pulse races harder with every step.
God, you missed him.
The ash blond spikes of his hair brush your fingertips when you finally stop behind him.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to smell the familiar smoke-and-caramel scent that somehow always clung to him.
Close enough that your chest physically hurts.
Katsuki still hasn’t turned around.
“Why’s everyone acting weird?” he mutters suspiciously, glancing over at Kirishima who immediately looks away.
You bite back a laugh before gently covering Katsuki’s eyes with both hands.
The entire table goes dead silent.
You lower your mouth near his ear. “Guess who, Number One?”
Everything stops.
Completely.
Katsuki goes rigid beneath your touch.
For one breath.
Two.
Then—“…No fucking way.”
His voice comes out rough.
Almost disbelieving.
You can practically feel the moment recognition hits him.
The second it fully sinks in, he grabs your wrists hard enough to make your pulse jump—not painful, just desperate—and whips around in his chair so fast it nearly crashes backward.
Red eyes meet yours.
And suddenly Katsuki Bakugo—the Number One Hero, Japan’s strongest, the man plastered across every billboard in the country—looks completely stunned.
“Hi Kats,” you whisper.
For half a second he just stares.
Like he’s checking to make sure you’re real.
Then he’s on his feet instantly. “YOU’RE HERE?!”
The entire class erupts.
Mina starts shrieking.
Kaminari actually falls sideways laughing.
Kirishima yells, “BRO, YOUR FACE!”
And Katsuki ignores every single one of them.
Because the second you smile at him, his hands grab your waist and yank you straight into his chest so hard you squeak.
The impact nearly knocks the air out of you.
Not that you care.
Your arms wrap around his neck immediately as he buries his face against your shoulder.
And for the first time since you arrived—Katsuki goes quiet.
No insults.
No yelling.
Just holding you.
Tight.
Almost painfully tight.
Like if he loosens his grip for even a second, you’ll disappear again.
“You idiot,” he mutters against your skin.
Your throat tightens instantly. “You missed me that much?”
“Tch. Obviously.” he scoffs, but his voice cracks slightly at the edges.
And that alone tells you everything.
You pull back just enough to see his face properly.
God.
He looks older than when you left after your last visit to Japan 6 months ago.
Sharper.
Stronger.
More tired around the eyes.
There’s a small scar near his jaw you don’t recognize.
Another near his collarbone peeking out from beneath his shirt.
But he’s still Katsuki.
Still beautiful.
Still yours.
His crimson eyes drag over your face like he’s trying to memorize every detail all over again.
“When did you land?”
“This morning.” you answer.
“And you didn’t tell me?” he questions.
“Nope.” you say, shaking your head.
“The hell’s wrong with you?” he questions.
You grin. “I wanted to surprise Japan’s Number One Hero.”
His expression does something dangerously soft at that.
Then immediately hardens again because everyone is staring. “QUIT LOOKING AT US LIKE THAT, YOU DAMN VOYEURS!”
“Too late!” Mina cries. “I’m emotionally invested now!”
“You almost cried, bro!” Kaminari wheezes.
“I’LL KILL YOU!”
“Your face was all—” Kirishima dramatically clutches his chest. “‘No fucking waaay—’”
“SHUT UP SHITTY HAIR BEFORE I KILL YOU!”
“Worth it.” Kirishima chuckles.
You laugh before Katsuki’s gaze snaps back to you immediately, like the sound physically pulls his attention away from everyone else.
And suddenly all the noise around you fades.
Because he’s looking at you like he hasn’t breathed properly in months.
“…You’re staying a while?” he asks quietly.
The softness in his voice nearly destroys you.
You nod. “Three weeks.”
He exhales hard through his nose, relief flashing across his face before he can hide it. “Good.”
Then his hands slide down to yours.
Interlocking your fingers.
Effortlessly.
Naturally.
Like distance never changed a thing.
The class collectively makes enough teasing noises to qualify as a natural disaster.
Katsuki immediately flips them off without looking away from you.
“You extras got a problem?”
“Yes,” Mina says dramatically. “You’re in love and it’s disgusting.”
“You’re one to talk, Pinky.”
While everyone starts bickering again, you finally take in the table properly.
Everyone’s older now too.
More mature.
More confident.
Pro heroes.
Adults.
And somehow… Still the exact same idiots from Class 1-A.
Midoriya rushes over first, nearly vibrating with excitement. “It’s so good to see you (Y/N)!”
“You too, Izuku.” you smile.
Todoroki nods at you calmly from his seat. “Bakugo talked about you constantly.”
Katsuki immediately explodes. “WHAT?!”
“He did,” Jirou says smugly.
“All the time,” Yaoyorozu adds.
“Every interview backstage,” Kaminari snickers.
“You should’ve heard him after your calls,” Mina says. “‘Stupid woman forgot to eat again.’ ‘Stupid woman worked a forty-eight hour patrol.’”
Your entire face burns.
Katsuki looks seconds away from detonating the restaurant. “YOU ALL NEED HOBBIES.”
“You’re the hobby,” Sero says.
“DIE!”
You’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts when Katsuki suddenly tugs you closer against his side.
Possessive.
Instinctive.
His arm wraps around your waist while he glares at everyone like they’re personally offending him by breathing near you.
And honestly?
You missed this too.
Missed him.
Not the headlines.
Not Dynamight.
Not Japan’s Number One Hero.
Just Katsuki.
The boy who used to fall asleep during movie nights with his head in your lap.
The teenager who kissed you behind the U.A dorms after your first successful internship.
The man who still called you after every major fight just to hear your voice and make sure you were alive.
Your chest aches warmly.
“You know,” you say softly, looking up at him, “I’m really proud of you.”
Katsuki freezes.
The room quiets slightly.
Because everyone there knows him.
Knows how hard he fought for this.
How much pressure he carried.
How much guilt he survived.
And how impossible his standards for himself always were.
His eyes lock onto yours. “…Yeah?”
You smile. “Number One looks good on you.”
For once in his life, Katsuki Bakugo looks genuinely speechless.
Then his ears start turning red.
Slowly.
Visibly.
The entire class notices instantly.
Chaos erupts again.
“HE’S BLUSHING!”
“GET A PICTURE!”
“THIS IS HISTORIC—”
“DELETE IT OR DIE!”
You’re still laughing when Katsuki suddenly cups your face with one hand and kisses you.
Hard.
Immediate.
Like he’s been waiting months to do it again.
The room absolutely loses its mind.
But you barely hear them.
Because the second Katsuki kisses you, everything else disappears.
His thumb brushes your cheek.
Your fingers tangle into his shirt.
And beneath all the yelling and teasing and celebration—You feel it.
❥ IN WHICH, Katsuki has been holding his heart out for Y/N since they were kids, enduring years of uncharacteristic patience. She finally ends his waiting, with one bold kiss during their patrol night.
❥ WC : 2464
"Yuck!"
Y/N stared down at the treasure he had just presented to her: a shiny, slightly sticky beetle that he found near the bushes.
"What do you mean, yuck?" Katsuki huffed, his tiny chest puffing out. "It’s the biggest one! It’s cool! I’m giving it to you because I'm the best, and the second best deserves the best stuff!"
The golden afternoon sun shined down on the two five-year-olds as they stood in the sand, the quiet of the sandbox amplified by the tension between them.
Y/N poked at the sand with a plastic shovel, unimpressed. "It has too many legs, Katsuki. And it’s twitchy. I don't want a twitchy bug."
Katsuki shifted his weight, his fingers sparking with miniature pops. He was only five, but his ego was already ten feet tall—even if his height didn't match. "Fine! Then.. Then what do you want? If we’re gonna get married when we’re Pro Heroes, I gotta know what you like!"
Y/N paused, looking up at him through her lashes. Katsuki’s longlasting crush throughout their entire friendship was never subtle. She, however, wasn't ready to trade her sandbox independence for cooties just yet.
"Married?" Y/N giggled, shaking her head. "I don’t think so.."
"I’ll be the tallest! And the strongest!" He spoke with confidence, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled his eyes.
"Hmm, maybe." Y/N said, smoothing out a mound of sand. "But when you’re a big strong man who can carry me, then maybe I’ll consider it one day. Until then, go play with your bugs."
Katsuki stood frozen as her challenge sank into his stubborn head. Without a word, he stomped over to shove the beetle into a bush and turned on his heel.
"Just you wait, Y/N! You’re gonna be eating those words!"
He stomped off to the grassy field where his other friends were huddled. Y/N didn't pay them much mind, humming as she returned to her important task of building a princess castle—one strictly free of twitchy bugs.
Ten minutes of peace passed. She was just finishing the moat when a rhythmic chanting drifted over from the grass.
"Seven! .. Eight! .. Nine! .. Come on, Bakugo!"
Y/N looked up, squinting against the sun. In the distance, she saw a small, spiky-haired figure face-down in the grass. Katsuki was shaking, his tiny five-year-old arms locked at the elbows as he struggled to lower himself.
"Ten!" The group of boys cheered.
Katsuki collapsed into the dirt, panting heavily, but he immediately scrambled back up into a plank position. Even from across the playground, Y/N could see the furious determination on his face.
Y/N smiled, patting the top of her sandcastle. "He's so weird." She whispered, though her eyes stayed glued to his struggle for one more push-up.
The neon lights of the city flickered against the damp pavement, casting long, shimmering shadows as Y/N and Katsuki walked their assigned route.
They moved with a synchronized rhythm that didn't require words—a silent language built over many years of shared snacks, scraped knees, and grueling training sessions.
"It’s too quiet." Katsuki grumbled with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hero costume.
The orange glow of his gauntlets caught the light every time he shifted. "If one more civilian asks me for a selfie instead of getting robbed, I’m gonna lose it."
"A quiet night means people are safe. Isn't that the point of being a hero?"
"The point is to win." He countered. "Can't win if there's no one to fight."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Katsuki.." Y/N teased, nudging his armored shoulder with her own.
With a sharp Tch, Katsuki leaned into her shoulder for a heartbeat before correcting himself. They’d been doing this dance since they were in diapers—Katsuki charging forward with explosive heat, and Y/N acting as the steady ground he always returned to.
The city noise began to fade into a hum as they turned onto the arched stone bridge that spanned the Musutafu canal. Usually, the water was just a dark ribbon cutting through the concrete, but tonight, it was transformed.
Y/N stopped in her tracks, her breath catching. "Look!"
Below them, hundreds of paper lanterns drifted with the current, their golden flickers reflecting off the dark water like fallen stars.
The pink lotus flowers scattered among them caught the soft glow of the neon skyline. Further upstream, a festival was winding down, its remnants finally reaching the quiet corner of their route.
Katsuki stepped up to the railing beside her. He didn't grumble about 'villains' or 'patrolling' this time. He just leaned his elbows on the cool stone, his gaze fixed on the water.
"It’s actually.. Pretty." Y/N whispered, admiring the view.
"It’s a distraction." Katsuki muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He glanced sideways at her, the golden light from the water dancing in his crimson eyes. "But I guess it’s not the worst thing to look at."
Y/N leaned further over the railing, her eyes wide as she traced the path of a particularly bright lantern bobbing through a cluster of pink lotuses.
The golden light played across her features, turning her skin to honey and casting a soft, ethereal glow into her eyes. To her, the river was a masterpiece—a rare moment of tranquility in a life usually defined by training and sirens.
"It’s like the stars fell into the water." She murmured, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. "I could stay here all night and just watch them drift."
She was so captivated by the shimmering view that she didn't notice the shift in him beside her. Katsuki wasn't looking at the water anymore.
He had completely turned away from the 'distraction' of the festival lights, with his back against the stone railing and his arms crossed over his chest.
His crimson eyes were locked only on her.
He watched the way the wind caught a piece of her hair and how her expression softened in a way she only allowed when she felt safe.
To him, the lanterns were just paper and fire, but the girl standing next to him—the girl who had meant everything to him since they were five years old—was the only thing in the city actually worth looking at.
"Yeah.." Katsuki cleared his throat, his voice dropping into a low tone that hummed with a rare kind of sincerity. "Best view in the whole damn city."
Y/N finally blinked, pulled out of her trance by the tone in his voice. She turned her head, expecting to see him pointing out a distant skyscraper or a hero billboard.
Instead, she found him staring directly at her with a soft, focused expression.
"You're not even looking at the river, Katsuki." She teased him, well-aware of how close he was standing next to her.
"I’ve seen enough water." A steady warm smirk formed on his face. "I’m looking at what I want. Same as always."
"Oh, Katsuki.." Y/N sighed, playfully rolling her eyes as she fixed her gaze back to the view of the lights.
She felt his stare and fought the heat rising in her face.
The silence stretched between them, comfortable and thick with a history that spanned over a decade. The lanterns shimmered in her eyes, yet she only felt the heat of his presence beside her.
"Still trying to pull that 'yuck' face?" Katsuki asked suddenly, his voice teasing but hushed.
Y/N chuckled, her eyes still on a floating lotus. "I think I grew out of that. Mostly because you stopped trying to give me bugs and started giving me headaches instead."
"Hey, don't pin that all on me." Katsuki let out a low groan, his lips twitching into a ghost of a smirk. "You're a pain in the ass, all the time."
"And you like this pain in the ass?" Her eyebrow arched as she tossed him a sarcastic question.
"Damn right." He answered without a second of hesitation.
Y/N shook her head, letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh huffing through her nose. "You really never give up, do you? You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met."
"Had to be." He muttered, his voice surprisingly steady. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't have kept up with you."
He shifted, his shoulder brushing hers as the heat of his hero suit radiated against her arm. The playfulness started to dissolve, replaced by a heavier, grounded tension.
"I've liked this pain in the ass since we were kids fighting over the same damn swing set." He spoke to the air between them.
Y/N’s lips curled into a faint smile, the memories of their childhood blurring together in her mind like the colors in the water.
"Every time I had gotten a new move or a higher score, I’d look at you and wonder if I was finally checking off your boxes. Spent my whole life becoming that big strong man you always wanted."
He looked down at his own hands—gloved, calloused, and capable of leveled-city-block power. "I can carry you and this whole damn city on my back if I had to."
"Oh, you know I didn't mean it." She began, her voice soft but steady. "We're not five anymore. I was just a little bit of a brat. Bugs and boys were gross back then, but you—you’ve always been the strongest man I've ever known."
A low, huffed laugh escaped his throat—a genuine sound that didn't hold a drop of his usual aggression.
"A brat? Yeah, no kidding." He looked up at the stars, a small smile starting to break through. "Always did have high standards, I'll give you that."
The memory seemed to amuse him more now than it had back then. The frustration of a five-year-old boy had matured into the deep, enduring devotion of a man.
"I used to get so damn mad." He confessed. "I’d just go off and do a hundred more push-ups. Figured if a bug wouldn't work, I’d just have to become more strong."
"I don't think you were able to do a hundred push-ups at the time, Katsuki." A soft laugh escaped her.
"Yeah, yeah.. Whatever.." He glanced at her for a second, looking at her with a warmth he usually hid.
"But you’re right. We're not five anymore, and I stopped bringing you bugs a long time ago."
She looked at him, seeing the way his eyes were stuck on her—as if the rest of the world had simply faded away.
Y/N knew that look in his eyes too well—she could pinpoint exactly what he was fighting to keep to himself.
He was holding back, to respect her boundaries, refusing to rush a single thing even after waiting over ten years for her to finally meet him halfway.
He was a grown man now, but his eyes held the same desperate hope of the five-year-old boy who’d catch bugs to impress her and trained his hardest to become a 'big strong man'.
"So, what's it gonna be?" He finally spoke up. "You gonna keep me waiting until we're retired, or are you gonna let me prove it right now?" He was smug about it, expecting the regular pull back that she'd always do.
"I don't know, Katsuki.." Her voice trailed off playfully. "You talk a big game. You've got the hero rank and the flashy quirk, sure. But these bridge railings are pretty high, and I’ve had a very long day of training. I'm practically dead weight."
"Are you sure you’re even able to pick me up?" She already knew the answer he’d proven a thousand times before.
The challenge was like fuel to a fire. In one swift, fluid motion, he stepped into her space.
Before she could even blink, his arm hooked securely behind her knees and his other hand stabilized her back, hoisting her up against his chest as if she weighed nothing.
Her breath hitched as she looked at him, the lantern light fading against the heat between them. "Okay, okay!" She was breathless now, her heart racing as she realized just how close they really were. "You're definitely the big, strong hero you said you'd be."
"Damn right I am." He muttered as he adjusted his grip, pulling her just a little bit closer. "And don't you forget it."
Looking into his fierce eyes she’d known her whole life, Y/N decided right then and there—the wait was over.
"If you had known better—"
She cut off his smug comment instantly, leaning in to press her lips against his in a firm, long-awaited kiss.
It was a bold, sudden move—completely unexpected. Katsuki, the boy who was always three steps ahead, was caught off guard.
His hands instinctively tightened around her in a panicked, protective grip just to make sure he didn't drop her.
The kiss held the weight of a lifetime. When she pulled away, her cheeks were nearly burning red—the exact shade of his eyes.
Katsuki stared at her, his mouth slightly agape with his usual scowl nowhere to be found. He looked dazed, his pupils blown wide as he processed their first kiss.
Y/N smiled widely, her soft laughter breaking the tension. Watching Katsuki—usually a storm of noise and confidence—reduced to a quiet, wide-eyed statue was the ultimate win.
"Earth to Katsuki!" Her voice was light and musical. "You still in there?"
She gave his bicep a soft, grounding pat—a quiet signal to put her down now that she’d completely wrecked his composure.
Reluctantly, and still moving like he was in a trance, Katsuki let her feet touch the ground. The second she was steady, Y/N smoothed out her hero suit and turned on her heel.
"Come on, big strong man!" She called over her shoulder, her ponytail swaying as she began to stroll back into the rhythm of their patrol route. "We still have three blocks to cover. We're supposed to be looking out for villains, remember?"
His hand flew up, his fingers pressing firmly against his mouth as if he were trying to physically keep the feeling of her lips from fading.
Katsuki silently followed behind her, his face a shade of red that wouldn't go away as his mind replayed the last ten seconds on a loop.
The softness, the scent of her, the way she had finally closed the gap—it was better than what he had ever imagined.
A long, jagged breath escaped him. He buried his shaking hand in his pocket, his mind a whirlwind as he spent the rest of the patrol replaying those few seconds over and over.
He finally secured the win he had been chasing for practically his entire life.
author's note: not me on google street view in florence alabama trying to figure out where the FUCK you’re going lmaooo sorry for stalking the town of florence its for RESEARCH. i have no idea if rob has ever been to these places and i have no intention of finding out. i literally just googled library in florence and looked around the area. don't be weird to people on the internet!
reader is so quirked up which is funny because rob is lowkey highkey quirked up as an actual person. i don’t know how to put that in writing but i consulted my expert who is watching his love island season. i honestly hope rob appreciates how much pr im doing with him being cool in this because i know hes actually goofy as fuckkk (ive seen the neglected baddies chat on instagram you cant fool me)
warnings: minor similarities to the quinn script were unintentional (i just googled snake crossword clues and the copperhead one came up so we rolled with that) and this is a work of fiction, this is not intended to represent rob’s real personal views in any way. honestly at this point it aint even about rob. i’m just having fun writing creatively because i haven’t done so in a really long time!! maybe you can tell that i’m just all about the story because like 50% of this is just fran being the cutest ever. i think the only reader warning is she eats meat ? and swears. and listens to shania twain. good for her.
i believe in set it up supremacy
wc: 6.2k
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Your first weekend in Florence passed by in a blur. Between grocery shopping, a quick drugstore trip to stock up on all the full-size toiletries you had to forgo for the sake of packing reasonably, teasing about Rob From The Bar, and watching your favorite rom-coms to maintain a healthy ratio of romantically-induced depression to hyena-esque laughter, you barely had time to think about how you were going to keep yourself busy while Fran went to work during the week. While you may have had three weeks of PTO, she did not. You swore up and down to Fran that you would be fine, but she also made you promise to make an effort to leave the apartment. She even offered to pay for some Uber rides since she would be leaving you without transportation into town, to which you vehemently told her to shut it.
“Need I remind you that I’m basically staying in another state for free for three weeks? Case closed. Not to mention the boots,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes in jest. Fran rolled her own eyes in response. You were, however, able to agree upon a drop-off arrangement to the public library for Monday. That Sunday evening, Fran provided you with her library card and a Google Maps tour of the nearby sights she was willing to recommend. There was a decent amount to see just within walking distance of the library: a Civil War museum, a small art gallery, plenty of grub options, and several cute neighborhoods with suitable sidewalks. You could certainly find a few hours worth of stuff to do while Fran pored over spreadsheets. Tuesday was a future-you problem, and for now, Monday was covered.
The next morning, you slammed your alarm off at 6:30 a.m., groaning in frustration at yourself for letting Fran convince you to watch Set It Up for the third time.
“But it has Glen Powell, and he’s so hot,” she cried, her last ditch effort to provide enough evidence as to why you should stay up until 1 AM. You sighed, hitting the play button on the remote with resignation.
“You know, your momma would never let you be with Glen Powell,” you supplied unhelpfully, munching on a handful of popcorn as the opening scene played out. “He sports the burnt orange. As if you would be kept in the will if you married anyone who doesn’t Roll Tide.”
Fran had shoved your arm in response, sending popcorn kernels flying over the couch cushions.
As good as the movie was, 6:30-AM-you was not as impressed. Fran had to leave the house by 7:15, so you needed to get ready for the day if you were hoping for a ride into town. Tossing aside the thin sheets of the queen-sized guest bed, you grunted as you thrust yourself up from the mattress. Despite the God you found in Fran’s air conditioning, you could tell the swelter of the sun was starting to set in as early morning light trickled past the curtains. You tossed a withered glance toward your suitcase and quickly decided that you would be wearing something that allowed you to sweat as little as possible today. Bending down and rustling through the rumpled mess, you pulled out a passable top, shorts, and undergarments to tug on after a brief shower. Making quick work of your daily routine, you walked into the kitchen at 7:10 sharp, saluting Fran from across the kitchen island as she sipped on a travel coffee cup.
“Sorry about Set It Up,” she grimaced through a smile, conveying her own exhaustion from your late-night shenanigans. You laughed and shook your head, dismissing her apology as unnecessary.
“So, I was thinking I would grab a bite to eat, hit up the library for entertainment, then maybe go on a walk through the neighborhoods. Anything I should know?” you asked your built-in tour guide. Fran shrugged in response.
“Sounds like a good plan to me. I think you should have let me quit my job to hang out with you, then let me go back in to work three weeks later crying about what a mistake I made.” She joked, then added passively, “Just like my ex.”
In the middle of tugging your shoes on, you froze at the implication, looking up at Fran.
“Did he contact you?”
Fran shook her head and waved her hand in their air, laughing with a solemn wistfulness.
“Oh, of course. I blocked him after the sixteenth text this weekend, don’t worry. I know better this time. It just sucks,” she sighed. Fran grabbed her purse off the counter, symbolically putting a period at the end of that conversation. You knew better than to pry further.
“Could we play off the lie that I’m your long-lost daughter and you wanted to participate in Take Your Kid To Work Day?” you asked in jest, pouting at the fact that you had to be separated. Fran’s sadness disappeared into her laughter.
“Probably not. I’m not ready to be a MILF. And I definitely don’t look old enough to be your momma.” At that, Fran grabbed her keys and gestured for you to follow her to the car. You trailed after her, smiling in earnest.
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The easiest spot for Fran to drop you off was at the public library. As much as you would have liked to check out a few books as your first stop, the library didn’t open until 10 AM, and your grumbling stomach certainly was not willing to wait any longer for sustenance. You had skimmed Google Maps once again on the drive over, so you knew there were a few restaurants just a block away. Walking toward the heart of town, your feet didn’t have to guide you far before the smell of coffee and maple syrup wafted along the humid air. Looking to your left, large glass windows glistened as you took in the sign:
BIG BAD BREAKFAST.
Ok, I could go for one of those, you thought as you reached for the door handle. Your stomach seemed to concur as it growled again at the delightful aromas. Walking into the restaurant, you smiled at the hostess, informing her that you would be dining for one today. She gathered a menu and silverware in her arms and led you to a booth along the side of the restaurant. Taking care to not let your sweaty skin skid across the seat, you settled in and picked up the laminated menu as the hostess returned to her post. Glancing over the options, nothing seemed more apt to order than biscuits and gravy.
When your server approached, you placed your order for the biscuits and a glass of water, filing away the tantalizing option of fresh-squeezed orange juice for later. As you returned your singular menu to the server, it occurred to you that you couldn’t remember the last time you ate at a restaurant by yourself.
Now feeling a bit awkward as you sat at the booth alone, you shifted your weight on the hardwood seat, thighs sticking in protest as you adjusted. While there weren’t many patrons in the diner given the early hour on a weekday, you couldn’t shake the feeling of slight insecurity. After all, you weren’t from this town, and you were certain they could smell the tourist radiating off of you. A bar on Friday night is one thing, but a restaurant in broad daylight on a Monday is another.
I’m gonna look more ridiculous if I just sit here and do nothing. I don’t even have a plate of food yet.
Momentarily drumming your fingers on the countertop as you debated how to make yourself busy, you were suddenly struck with an epiphany. As you dug into the bottom of your purse, you communicated a silent ‘thank you’ to the you of drugstore’s past. Against all odds, the paperback crossword puzzle book you paid a couple dollars for while out with Fran ended up being worth its weight in gold, providing the exact focal point you needed while you relaxed into the background of gentle diner clinking. Also retrieving a pen, you opened to the first page and started with the clues in order as much as you could, skipping over clues you didn’t feel certain about the answer to.
Made into law: “enacted”.
Noisy summer insect: “cicada”.
Blacken, as a steak: “char”.
California wine valley: “Napa”.
Your brows furrowed as you looked at one of the longer words not yet filled out, searching for the matching clue on the side of the page. You knew the long words were typically harder, but you were truly stumped on this one, even with a few letters filled in.
Venomous snake. Starts with C, second letter P, ten letters.
The mental labyrinth you had built to address the crossword’s riddles came crumbling down at the sound of boisterous laughter. Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance, now unable to focus on the convoluted clues in front of you due to the interruption. On instinct, you glanced up to note the rude patrons who seemed to have no awareness of their surroundings. However, if you could go back in time, you would have aggressively kept your head down, nose-to-page, to avoid the sight in front of you:
Rob From The Bar.
Rob From The Bar and two of his friends, all three in the bunch wearing camo to some degree, cackling about something the blond friend had said prior to opening the glass doors.
Your hopes to remain out of his eyeline lessened in likelihood as Rob scanned the room for seating. In that moment, you felt like prey standing completely still, hoping that the lack of movement would blend you in with your surroundings. Unfortunately for you, Rob’s sense of sight was superior to that of most predators who fall for that biological trick. His eyes locked on yours. Him, standing across the restaurant mid-smile, and you, hunched over a fucking crossword puzzle, alone in a booth.
God damn it.
As his friends were directed by the hostess to their seats, Rob seemed to say something to them, holding up a hand to imply that he would catch up with them momentarily. They glanced in your direction, smirking to themselves at the sight of what had caught Rob’s attention—you—and followed the hostess dutifully. Instead of walking to the opposite side of the restaurant like he was supposed to, Rob started in your direction. In a moment of clarity, you sat up straighter, hoping to not look like you had just hobbled out of a cave to live amongst the normal folk.
“(y/n),” he nodded, a smile on his face as he saddled up to your booth. He leaned on the side of the booth politely, not daring to assume you wanted company. You smiled back.
“Hi, Rob. It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” he responded, then gestured to the empty side of the booth. “You mind if I join you, just for a bit, actually?”
You looked down at the crossword puzzle in your hands, then glanced back up at him teasingly with a smirk.
“Sure. But only if you can help me with this clue. If you don’t know it, you’re out of luck,” you offered. Rob laughed and jutted his chin up, challenging you to present the clue.
“Hit me.”
You turned the book in his direction, pointing at the space the ten letters needed to be inserted.
“Venomous snake. Starts with C.”
Rob slid into the booth with ease.
“Copperhead,” he drawled, “and if you didn’t actually want me to join you, I would’a hoped you knew to pick a more difficult clue.”
You laughed, responding in kind with a playful lilt.
“Oh, so ‘Title for New Zealand golfer Lydia Ko’ would have been a better way to ward you off? I’ll remember that,” you nodded, putting your pen into the page of your book and closing the cover. Rob chuckled and put a hand to his chest, wincing like you had wounded his heart.
“So, you’re keepin’ tabs on how to get rid of me now? I suppose I should take offense to that.”
You couldn’t help the goofy smile that spread across your face; trying to resist Rob’s charm appeared more futile by the second. Thankfully, to break you out of your stupor, your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps approaching your booth from behind. Your server leaned over to place the steaming plate of biscuits and gravy in front of you, the comforting aroma like heaven to your nostrils.
“Is there anything else I can get you? Can I get you something to drink, sir?” The server asked, redirecting his attention from you to look at your new companion expectantly. Rob’s eyes shifted from the server to glance at you for permission. You raised an eyebrow coyly, not clearly indicating any preference and allowing Rob to independently decide whether or not to linger.
“I’ll just take a glass of water. Thanks,” Rob replied. Your heart thumped nervously against your ribcage.
Ok. Be normal. Be cool. You’re so cool! You’re like, the coolest person alive. You got this.
As the server walked away to fetch Rob a fresh glass, your newfound booth buddy pointed authoritatively at your plate.
“Good choice,” he offered, nodding approvingly.
“Oh, yeah? It’s always hard to order food from a place you’ve never been before, but I hoped a restaurant in Alabama wouldn’t fuck up biscuits and gravy,” you replied, picking up your fork and cutting into the soft, pillowy biscuit. If Rob weren’t in front of you now, you probably would have devoured the whole plate in record time if the smell was anything to go by. You sent a silent prayer to God that Rob hadn’t noticed your rumbling stomach from across the table as you lifted the fork to your mouth, careful not to drip any of the gravy onto your shirt.
“You’d be surprised, honestly. But if you were currently at a restaurant with bad biscuits and gravy, we wouldn’t’ve run into each other. I don’t make it a habit to frequent those places,” Rob shook his head, making a contorted face of disgust. You hummed agreeably around your bite of biscuit, finishing your food before replying in earnest.
“Well, I think we’ve both made a good choice today. These are fantastic.”
At your approval, Rob smiled, seemingly pleased that you were enjoying yourself. It was then that he seemed to take note of something, his smile shifting to a look of slight confusion.
“Are you here all by yourself? Your friend didn’t come with you?” He asked, nodding at the waiter in thanks as he returned to the table with a glass of water. Lifting the glass to his lips, you tried not to stare at the mesmerizing sight of the condensation trailing down the cup behind his fingers. Finishing your chewing, you cleared your throat—whether you were freeing crumbs from your esophagus or the thoughts from your head was debatable.
“Well, I am visiting her for three weeks, but it was kind of a spontaneous decision. She couldn’t get the same amount of time off work, and honestly, I didn’t expect her to. So now I’m clomping around Alabama all on my lonesome until she’s ready for my company again,” you teased lightheartedly. While you didn’t love being in a strange place by yourself, you really didn’t mind Fran having to work while you were here. If anything, you were happy she had another means of distraction after her breakup. Florence was peaceful and you knew how to entertain yourself—it was really no problem.
Rob, however, seemed to find it to be a very serious problem, judging by the look of concentration on his face.
“So you’re telling me that you have to find somethin’ to do in a place you’ve never been for the better part of three weeks? Is that right?”
You nodded affirmatively, unsure of what he was implying. He tsked in response.
“Well, that just won’t do. I certainly can’t let you waste away three weeks in my hometown without seeing the best of the best. You would start telling everyone back in the city that you just couldn’t stand Florence and it wasn’t worth the trip. How could anyone forgive me for letting you slander our name? I’ll be evicted from the town!”
“Rob, I don’t know how to tell you this, but it’s too late. I’m the most recent negative Yelp review for the bar we went to this weekend,” you bantered back, ignoring the jackhammering in your chest. Rob barked out a laugh, then gasped dramatically in response, bracing his hands on the wooden table.
“Oh my god, I have to get all hands on deck for damage control immediately. If nobody comes to that bar, then I don’t get free entertainment on the weekend when out-of-towners show up and try to line dance despite the fact that, you know, no one else is line dancing.” Rob held out his hand expectantly.
“Quick, give me your phone. I have to delete this Yelp review,” he demanded, but there was no real edge to his voice, only playfulness. You let out a surprised laugh, easily picking up on his true intentions.
It’s fine. We’ll just talk as friends. And hang out as friends. Fran is going to be busy anyway, and Rob has a point about being here with not much to do. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
You were slightly appalled by the fact that you didn’t even resist when you dug your cellphone out of your purse, unlocked it, and placed it into his open palm.
“Rob, I hope that the potential for your phone number in my contacts is worth my integrity as a notable Yelp reviewer. The people rely on me for the truth,” you joked, giving him the weakest glare imaginable. Rob glanced up at you as he typed away on your phone, a crooked grin spreading across his face.
“I think the people will be pleased knowing you’ll be in good hands for the rest of your Alabama trip. Only good reviews from here on out. I wouldn’t dare take you to a place that is worth less than four stars,” he quipped, locking your phone and sliding it back across the table. You looked him in the eye and raised a brow as you reached for your cellphone back.
“Ok, maybe three and a half stars, depending on how much you like the snakes I’m gonna show you,” he admitted bashfully. You breathed out a soft laugh.
“Seriously though, if you don’t wanna see snakes, I won’t force you. I have plenty of other activities I bet you’d enjoy. But if you do wanna see them, I promise I’ll keep ya safe. No venomous snakes like the ones in your crossword puzzle.”
You considered his offer thoughtfully for a moment, thinking back to the realization you had regarding this same topic at the bar.
I guess that’s all fear is, really. Just not understanding things properly.
…
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go see some snakes with you, Rob. I think that sounds fun,” you confessed. His face lit up with a soft glow of enthusiasm, causing your heart to feel like it was going through a hydraulic press. You gingerly picked up your phone and unlocked it, seeing that Rob had left his saved contact on the screen.
Rob Rausch.
You tapped the button featuring a text bubble, deciding to be oh-so-polite by texting Rob so that he would have your phone number, too.
(from: you) Hey, it’s (y/n)! :)
His phone lit up on the table, eliciting another smile from him when he saw your message. It was at this time that he finally noticed a few other texts on his phone, too. He grabbed the device, skimming the texts quickly before looking up at you as he slowly shuffled out of the booth.
“Alright, my friends have officially threatened to order food for the whole restaurant and leave me to pay for it if I don’t join them. I’ll text you tonight to work out the details for our first tour stop,” he promised, pointing in your direction at the word “you” for emphasis. You smiled and nodded.
“Sounds good, Rob. Thanks for offering to be my guide. I’m looking forward to it,” you admitted earnestly. He responded with a toothy grin as he rose completely from his seat.
“Me too. Don’t go looking for any snakes without me tonight, ya hear?” He wagged a finger as he backed away from the table, inciting another laugh from you. You nodded again to convey that you would keep that promise. Finally, as his back turned fully to you and he started to disappear toward the other end of the restaurant, you let out a sigh of relief.
And you immediately grabbed your phone to text Fran.
(from: you) If I agreed to go on a snake tour with Rob From The Bar, I’m probably not going to get murdered, right?
Ever-so characteristic of Fran, you received a text right away, despite her fully-employed status.
(from: frannie marie 🩷) IF YOU WHAT??!??!?!?
(from: you) Just as friends. He offered to show me around while you were at work. Do you know anyone who might know him so I know I won’t end up dead on the side of the road or trapped in a cage somewhere? I’ll share my location with you just in case.
(from: you) I found out his last name by the way. Rausch.
You switched the tab to Find My Friends, opting to give Fran your coordinates for an indeterminate amount of time. As you were in the process of turning it on, another text popped up on the top of your screen from Fran. Several texts, actually.
(from: frannie marie 🩷) OOHH GIRL IF YOU DON’T GET YOU SOME
(from: frannie marie 🩷) IM GONNA BE SO MAD AT YOU IF YOU DON’T GET A PIECE OF THAT
(from: frannie marie 🩷) I’ll ask around. My guess is you’ll be fine, but I’m sure I know someone who knows him.
(from: frannie marie 🩷) But seriously, go girlllllll!!!
You laughed, shaking your head affectionately, amused at her texts and feeling a slight pit in your stomach all the same. She seemed happy for you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were somehow rubbing men in her face after her breakup. Your wall of determination, having been momentarily disarmed by Rob and his charms, rebuilt itself brick-by-brick. You weren’t going to reject Rob’s offer of sightseeing now, but you were going to try to keep it light and casual.
Try.
You took your time finishing your breakfast, eventually ordering yourself a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice as a treat for handling your conversation with Rob so well. You thought it might be awkward to toast to yourself in public for not behaving like a total freak, so you just savored the refreshing, tart beverage in contented silence. With an hour more to kill, you returned to your crossword puzzle with renewed vigor. Now that you had the answer for copperhead, the rest of the clues fell much more easily into place.
Admits, with up: “fesses”.
Stone fruit’s stone: “pit”.
Young horses: “foals”.
Get under control: …
If anyone asked, you would deny that you became distracted every time you heard rowdy laughter from across the restaurant, knowing exactly whose lips it came from.
After a few more crossword puzzles, a couple scrolls on your phone, and paying your tab, you flashed your screen to check the time. With a satisfied smile, you noted that the library had just opened a few minutes ago, meaning that it was time for your next stop. Unsticking your thighs from the booth seat and grabbing your belongings, you stood up and braced for the heat awaiting you outdoors.
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As the automatic doors quickly parted, authorizing you to enter the library, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief at the air conditioning. It was less than a five minute walk away from BIG BAD BREAKFAST, but this state truly seemed to have some BIG BAD THERMOMETER READINGS. Mentally, you made a note to ask Rob what would be appropriate clothing for your outing tomorrow when he texted you later. Then you also mentally reminded yourself to not get too caught up in waiting for Rob’s text later.
After returning a greeting to the two kind librarians currently stationed at the circulation desk, you decided that a morning designed for wasting time was the perfect opportunity to wander the stacks and pick up anything that slightly interested you. Given that you didn’t know how often Rob was going to want to show you around or how many days off Fran could afford, you figured that you would need several books to keep you busy for the next few weeks. You walked deeper into the library and found yourself amongst the hardwood tables, white painted columns, and of course, several different reading materials. You spotted the first row of books and noted the sign screwed into the deep mahogany of the shelf:
Nonfiction 000 - Computer science, general works
Sure, why the hell not, you thought passively, starting to skim the titles along each spine. It didn’t take long for you to bore of the individual section, considering you had no use for JavaScript during an Alabama summer. Attempting to redirect, you returned to the front of each shelving unit and looked at the different categories by Dewey Decimal classification, adjusting the placement of your purse on your shoulder to prepare yourself for a long while of looking at paperbacks and hardcovers.
Nonfiction 100 - Philosophy and Psychology
Nonfiction 200 - Religion
Nonfiction 300 - Social Sciences
Just for kicks, you strolled down the philosophy and psychology aisle, figuring that Fran would get a laugh out of seeing you with a book she probably used Sparknotes to read in college. Bending down to a lower shelf, you spotted a book on Plato’s allegory of the cave and gingerly removed it from its place. Flipping over to the back cover, you jutted out your lip in approval as you deemed the material worth carrying around the library. At that, your stack had begun, one single book to weight on the crook of your arm.
You also took a gander down the religion section, spotting a book on the underlying impact of Christianity on modern culture that seemed intriguing. Adding the book to your growing pile, you wandered further into the nonfiction wing, eventually making your way toward Nonfiction 500 - Pure Science. Despite your efforts to appear nonchalant, there had been a nagging thought poking at your brain since your walk over from the restaurant. Spotting the subsection you were looking for, you scrutinized the various titles and authors, doing your best to make a blind judgment on which book would be the most helpful and all-encompassing.
The Book of Snakes: A Life-Size Guide to Six Hundred Species from Around the World by Mark O’Shea
Alright, yeah, I think that’ll do, you mused, pulling at the spine to access the full book. The soft cover was a gorgeous, deep teal with various coiled snakes dotting the surface, each featuring a different color or pattern. Even just by looking at the design, you started to feel a greater sense of appreciation for the creatures, surprised by your own intrigue to learn more. Maybe Rob’s onto something… but I’ll save my judgement for when I’m face-to-face with one. Placing the book on the very top of your stack, you gave yourself a satisfied nod and dismissed yourself to the fiction section.
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“Ok. Tell me everything that happened today. Start from when you got out of my car.”
At around 3:30 PM, your chariot had finally arrived at the library, ready to escort you back to Casa de Fran. You knew it was naive to think that Fran wouldn’t immediately want a debrief the second you opened the passenger-side door, but you didn’t expect that she would want such an excruciating level of detail.
“Hold on. What was Rob wearing? What did his friends look like? Were any of them cute? What did he order to drink?”
“Ok, Nancy Drew. The culprit ordered a glass of water. Do you want to go back to the scene of the crime and dust for prints?”
“You didn’t answer the rest of my questions,” she responded with deathly seriousness. You laughed incredulously.
“Alright, alright. He was wearing a camo t-shirt and some grey sweatshorts. He was wearing a baseball hat, too. One of the friends was blond and the other one had a buzzcut with a nicely trimmed beard. Yes, they were cute; no, I did not ask if either of them had girlfriends,” you relayed, glancing at Fran out of the corner of your eye as she focused on the road. She thrummed her fingers on the steering wheel, humming as she digested the information you provided.
“You’re not getting murdered tomorrow, by the way. Old sorority sister went to high school with him. Said he’s sweeter than pie, albeit peculiar with his taste for critters. Can’t imagine that’s turnin’ you off, though,” she commented, giving her own sidelong glance at the new snake almanac in your lap. You insecurely slid it off your thigh and tucked it between the seat and the door.
“Oh, I’m just teasin’ ya. I’d be happy to trace my tongue over those tattoos, snake or not, so I get it. You’d better be the one to act on it so I can live vicariously through you. Maybe you’ll even be able to identify the species when he takes his shirt off,” Fran retorted casually. You choked on air in response, jerking your head away from the window view to look at her.
“Fran!”
“Did I say somethin’ wrong?” she teased innocently. At that, you smacked her arm, drawing a false wince from your friend.
“Ok, in all seriousness, you didn’t tell me how he managed to get his number in your phone—I know you gave him a hard time somehow. Stop withholding from me. I need to know how it all went down!” Fran cried. You laughed, shaking your head at her absurdity.
“Um… We were doing a bit about Yelp reviews.”
Stopped at a red light, Fran turned her head to look at you dead-on, her expression a mix of confusion and slight repulsion. She leaned forward to twist the knob down on the stereo.
“Sorry, what? I’m not sure I heard that right. It sounded like you said something about Yelp reviews.”
You shrugged, nodding to indicate that she heard you correctly. She groaned in disgust.
“If you guys are this sickenin’ now, I really don’t know how I’m gonna handle three weeks of this, bare minimum.”
Her comment, while made in jest, made your stomach drop. You let out a hollow laugh, hoping to mask your sudden shift in mood.
God, I knew it. I knew this wasn’t good for Fran. I’m being a horrible friend right now.
You changed the subject to ask about how Fran’s day at work was, desperately hoping to atone for your mistake. Fran narrowed her eyes at you, but allowed you to remove yourself from the center of attention.
The rest of the ride was spent doing one of two things: listening to Fran intermittently complain about her coworker who was meant to be helping her on a project but spent the whole day, according to Fran, “piddlin’ about”, and tossing around ideas about what to do in the apartment for the evening. By the time you arrived at her doorstep, you had firmly declared that Fran’s coworker was a certified dumbass and that you would make taco salad for dinner. After the taco salad, you would rewatch part of the first season of Sex and the City. Truthfully, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening, causing you to reminisce on how lovely it was to be able to spend your days with Fran back in college. It made you feel like you could really enjoy spending more time here in Alabama.
Entering the apartment, the two of you began your work in the kitchen, dancing around each other to switch places when you needed a new cooking utensil or more counter space. Fran had set up a speaker that, ultimately, made you unintentionally less productive. Many would attest to the fact that you can’t really use a spatula to stir ground beef if it is actively being used as a microphone. While Shania Twain led the two of you in explaining to men how that don’t impress you much, you chopped tomatoes along to the beat, swaying your hips while Fran swore off rocket scientists and Brad Pitt into her spatu-phone.
Ding.
The two of you stopped, eyes wide as saucers, Shania still echoing over the speaker.
Fran was faster than you.
She dove for your phone and, despite the fact that it was on the opposite end of the granite countertop, she reached it in record time. You huddled next to her, anxiously awaiting what it said.
“Fran, it’s really not a big deal. He’s just some guy. I only said yes because I figured it would give me something to do when I couldn’t hang out with you. No guy will ever be as interesting as us, remember!” you laughed nervously, lying through your teeth and trying to minimize how fast your heart was racing.
“Shut the hell up,” she murmured, holding up her hand to silence you, eyes skimming over the text.
“Hey, (y/n), it’s Rob. Do you wanna go on a creek walk tomorrow? Just let me know what you’re feeling and I can pick you up.”
Fran rose her eyes to you after reading the text aloud, mouth agape.
Ding.
Like a laser, her eyes were back on the screen. You clamored for the phone, snatching it out of her hands while she screeched out in laughter, doubling over. You ignored her and read the next text message.
(from: Rob Rausch) I should probably explain what that is. My fault. It’s something I do with my sisters all the time. We’ll go to the creek, but you’ll get to sit in a kayak while I pull you around and show you cool stuff. You don’t even have to get in the water if you don’t want to.
Holding your breath, you read the texts again, then looked at Fran as she attempted (and failed) to contain her fits of laughter.
“I—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he’s just—HAH! This is so cringe. He’s so cute. Oh man,” she sighed, wiping her eyes. “This is too good.” Fran reached for the phone to see the next text that came in.
“Nuh-uh! You don’t get to see them if you’re gonna make fun!” You cried, holding the phone out of her reach.
“Oh, come on, (y/n), I just can’t help it. You know damn well I would get the ick so bad if a man invited me on a creek walk, and I’m from Alabama. You would be the person to find it all attractive. I know you’re shittin’ your pants right now at the thought of that Adonis glistenin’ in a creek. And he doesn’t even know you brought home a book to do homework before your date tomorrow! Two dorks in love!” she exclaimed pointedly, leaning on the counter to catch her breath and softly slapping her hand on the granite. You pressed your mouth into a thin line, trying to will any expression of bashfulness off of your face at the thought of being in love. You looked back at your phone, realizing a few minutes had passed since Rob’s last text. Out of the kindness of your heart, you read the message out loud to Fran, receiving an exaggerated “aww!” in response.
Considering your words carefully, you typed out a reply while Fran watched you like a hawk.
(from: you) Hey, Rob! That sounds like fun! I’m not so sure I’ll be jumping in the water to hunt with you, but we’ll see. It will take an awful lot of convincing. For now, I’m happy to be chaperoned around the creek. Do I need to bring anything specific?
You held a bated breath.
Ding.
(from: Rob Rausch) Awesome. I asked my sister what you need to know. She said your butt might get a little wet in the kayak even if you don’t get in the water. She usually wears shorts and a t-shirt with a swimsuit under? And she said you’ll need to borrow some boots from our house. Probs want a hat for the sun. Bring sunscreen
Thinking back to what you had shoved into your suitcase, you realized you didn’t have a hat.
(from: you): Thanks! The only thing I don’t have is a hat. Got one to spare? If not, I’ll ask Fran. She just normally isn’t one to tamp down her hair.
You followed up the text with your shoe size to make sure that they had a pair of boots that would at least cover your feet. A moment later, you received a thumbs up reaction to your message and a follow-up text.
(from: Rob Rausch) Got you covered. Pick you up at 9?
(from: you) Sounds like a plan.
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a/n: imagine i made his first text “what up baddie”. sorry for timeskipping legit like 5 hours in the library i just didnt wanna deal with all that.
