The school bell of UA cuts through the hallway chatter like a hot knife through butter. The jarring signal turning excited conversation into nervous goodbyes as students take their separate ways to home room. Excusing yourself through the cluster of friend groups you pick up your pace to your new classroom. Navigating halls, memorizing door signs and scanning faces for any familiar features of friends from middle school till you eventually find your class. Classroom 1-A.
You take a deep breath, inhaling a bit of your sweet perfume that you purposely sprayed extra of while smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in your uniform skirt. You walk inside with a nervous anticipation and high hopes for the next 3 years of your journey to be a hero. Looking around the large unfamiliar classroom, you scan the faces of your new classmates.
One boy with white and red hair and heterochromia eyes sitting in the middle row, another boy with navy blue hair and glasses sitting in the front row. But as you scan your gaze catches on a certain spiky ash-blonde haired boy in the last row, 3rd seat from the front with a bothered scowl on his face and his chin propped against his hand. Crimson eyes staring out the window tracking a butterfly like its wings flapping personally offended him, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly pressed together.
Your steps falter once, twice, before coming to a halt.
Who…is that?
You feel your heart rate increase, hands getting clammy at your sides and cheeks now dusted with pink blush. Your body feels too warm in the cold classroom, and you immediately blame it on the sun pouring in from the windows rather than the boy a few feet in front of you. His pale skin looks almost golden from the rays of sunshine painting his features, the sharp lines of his jaw looking drawn from the shadows the light casted. Adams'apple bobbling in his throat when he swallows and a sharp nose that exhaled sharply in annoyance when a student walked to close past his desk.
“Hey! Are you calling this seat?” A seemingly excited male voice snaps you out of your trance, your head turning to the side to see a red spiky haired boy with a big toothy grin and a pink haired girl standing next to him. It takes you a second to process his question, when it registers your cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, realizing you were just staring at him like a deer in headlights.
“Oh, no go ahead. Sorry I was totally in your way.” You chuckle nervously and take a step back to let them pass, smiling apologetically.
The male laughs, “Nah no worries! Thanks!” He stands off to the side to let the girl go first, she smiles brightly at you in passing and takes the last seat in the row before he takes the one in front of her. You internally scold yourself before following, sitting down at the desk in front of him.
“I’m Eijiro Kirishima!”
Kirishima says happily with a hand on his chest like a proud soldier.
“And I’m Mina Ashido!”
Mina says excitedly, both of them looking at you like a new found best friend.
You smile at them both, committing the names to memory. “It's nice meeting you guys.” You say as casually as you can, feeling your nerves start to settle now that the initial one-sided embarrassment has subsided. As the minutes pass more students start shuffling in, you continue making casual conversation with the two, asking about what middle schools they went to, quirks, hero dreams, etc.
Eventually your teacher, Mr. Aizawa walks in, he starts going over the syllabus and expectations for the year. By the end of the first period, you kind of settled into a comfortable friend group with Kirishima and Mina. Later going on to meeting more classmates who became part of your circle were Denki, Sero, Jiro, and Yaoyorozu. The best part? That spiky blonde was roped into being part of this group, Katsuki Bakugo.
A third-year and member of the schools Big 3, Mirio Togata was giving your entire class a tour of the school grounds. As you all walk to the dorms, you're chatting excitedly with Mina.
“UA puts 5 star hotels to shame.” You state starstruck, looking up at the massive dorm building as the class walks on the trail to reach its entrance. The tall glass building reflects the afternoon sun, painting the campus in gorgeous shades of orange. Flowers along the trail dance in the breeze and clouds rolling idly by overheard create shapes that vaguely resemble animals.
“No kidding! Looks like something out of a movie!” Mina chuckles next to you as she follows your gaze upwards to the building.
Behind you two, Kirishima throws his arm over Bakugou's shoulders, excitedly looking up at the dorm building. “Yeah! Baku-bro, isn't this place insane?” Bakugou groans, shaking off Kirishima's arm from his shoulders with excessive force before shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.“Tch. It’s just a damn building, not the Tokyo Tower.” His voice was gruff and annoyed, displeased with what seemed like everything.
Kirishima takes no offense from Bakugou's tone or action, he just laughs it off and puts his hands in his pockets. “Oh come on man! Lighten up!”
Bakugou's left eye twitches, “Shut up shittyhair! Only thing I'm lighting is your ass on fire!” He snaps back, Mina laughs. You chuckle alongside her, both of you turning back to see Kirishima laughing like it was the funniest joke in the world and not an outright threat while Bakugou mutters under his breath about ‘extras and their odd fixations with buildings’.
Your eyebrows furrow slightly as your brain starts catching up with his seemingly always annoyed and angry attitude.You shake your head slightly, filing away the observations before turning to face forward as the class reaches the dorm building.
As the tour continues, you start noticing more of his bad attitude and quick to anger temper towards everything. Small details of how he doesn't keep the door from shutting on the person walking behind him, interrupting Mirio as he speaks usually to comment that he's taking too long on his explanation, and the way he huffs dramatically whenever the group stops for more than thirty seconds.
At one point Mirio pauses to answer a question from one of your classmates, Bakugou clicks his tongue.
"Oi, lets get a damn move on!" He barks out with his hands clenching into fist in his pockets.
Mirio laughs. "Patience, young Bakugou! In due time!"
"Tch." He rolls his eyes so hard you're surprised they don't get stuck in the back of his head.
Of all the people in class to have a crush on, you somehow managed to pick the human embodiment of a grenade. A very attractive grenade. A grenade that looked perpetually one inconvenience away from committing a felony.
Time Skip - 6 months.
Six months had passed since the first day you stepped into Class 1-A. Unfortunately, your crush hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten worse. Which was impressive considering the object of your affection seemed personally offended by the concept of human interaction.
The rest of your friend group had long since figured out how to handle Bakugou. Mina argued with him like it was a competitive sport. Denki constantly annoyed him for his own entertainment. Kirishima treated every threat as a friendly greeting. Even Jiro occasionally rolled her eyes and told him to shut up.
Bakugou never changed. He was still impatient. Still blunt. Still somehow capable of sounding irritated while having a rare, casual conversation. Yet everyone else carried on as usual around him.
Everyone except you. It wasn't intentional. But somewhere along the way you started paying attention to every reaction he had. Whether his expression darkened when someone interrupted him. Whether his eye twitched when Denki got too loud. Whether he looked annoyed by a topic of conversation.
You found yourself adjusting for him without even realizing it. Talking a little quieter. Thinking twice before making a joke. Checking his mood before saying something ridiculous. The worst part? You were naturally a ridiculous person. So whenever Bakugou wasn't around, you felt like yourself. Loud laughter. Terrible jokes. Dramatic storytelling. The whole nine-yards.
Then Bakugou would walk into the room and you'd immediately become aware of yourself again. You hated it. Especially because nobody else seemed affected, only you. As if your stupid crush had somehow rewired your brain.
Tonight was supposed to be a break from all that. After surviving a brutal week of classes and training, your friend group had decided to spend Friday night at an arcade.
The place was packed. Bright lights flashed from every direction while overlapping game music created a wall of noise loud enough to drown out everything. The smell of pizza and slushies drifted in the air like a taunt while Mina destroyed everyone at a dance game. Denki had somehow lost three consecutive rounds of basketball against Jiro and Sero was laughing so hard he nearly fell over. You spent the first hour bouncing between games and collecting enough tickets to buy nothing useful. For once, you weren't thinking about school, training, internships, or Bakugou.
Then everyone migrated toward a racing simulator. Immediately, chaos broke out over who got to play first. Unfortunately, there weren't enough seats for everyone. Which meant some people had to wait, and through a cruel twist of fate, you ended up being one of them. Alongside Bakugou.
Fantastic.
Sighing imperceptibly, you stood beside one of the machines while Kirishima waited nearby, enthusiastically commentating on the race currently happening on-screen.
"You're taking that corner too wide!" He shouted.
"I know!" Denki yelled back.
"No, you clearly don't!"
"You sound like Bakugou!"
"Don't compare me to him!"
Bakugou’s left eye twitched, “The hell does that mean you idiot!"
Kirishima laughed. Then his attention shifted toward the concession stand across the arcade.
"Oh, hold on. I'm grabbing a drink."
Without waiting for a response, he ran off towards the stand, counting tickets in his hands calculating how many he’ll need with his signature toothy grin.
The noise of the arcade seemed louder now, or maybe you were just more aware of it. You shifted your weight awkwardly, squaring your shoulders and standing a bit straighter against the wall before pulling out your phone and checking your notifications. There was nothing there, but you stared anyway. A habit you'd developed months ago because willing a notification to come through was easier than trying to figure out what to say to Bakugou.
Not that he looked interested in conversation anyway. He was standing beside you with his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes fixed on the racing game probably thinking how much better he'd be doing at it. His expression looked exactly the same as it always did, annoyed, like he'd rather be anywhere else.
A minute passed. Then another. You refreshed the same page on your phone for the third time. He glanced over at you, eyebrows furrowed. When it looked like he'd blow a fuse if he saw you checked your phone again Kirishima returned with a huge slushie. Your shoulders sagged in quiet relief and you pocketed your phone.
Thank god…
Minutes later, you ended up challenging Kirishima to a round of air hockey. Which turned out to be a mistake. A horrible mistake. Because somehow the game had escalated from a friendly match into a full-blown championship event.
"THAT DIDN'T COUNT!" You shouted, nearly climbing over the table after the puck bounced into your goal.
"It absolutely counted!" Kirishima yelled back, laughing so hard he could barely hold the striker.
"It ricocheted!"
"That's literally part of the game!"
Your entire friend group ended up around the air hockey table, all giggling and observing your antics. You didn't even notice until Mina nearly doubled over laughing. "Oh my god, you two are ridiculous."
"Tell him he cheated!" You demanded with a pout.
"He didn't cheat." She says cheerfully, breathless from laughing.
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, muttering to yourself. "Betrayal."
Across the arcade, Bakugou had been watching. For a moment, his eyes lingered. Watching you animatedly argue with Kirishima. Watching your exaggerated hand gestures. The loud laughter. The ridiculous dramatics. The complete lack of self-consciousness. Then he looked away with a scoff before thinking to himself,
Since when was this woman so damn loud?
Eventually you all used your tickets to buy useless plastic trinkets and candies. Mina bought a cherry lollipop, Denki, a slap bracelet he used mostly on Jiro instead of his own wrist. Kirishima won a teddy bear he ended up gifting to Mina, and you bought the first thing that caught your eye and made you smile.
As the night wound down and the arcade was closer to closing, you all decided to start heading back to the dorms. Everyone walked in pairs down the narrow sidewalk, all having separate conversations with their partner. Jiro and Yaoyorozu led the group talking about an upcoming test, Kirishima and Mina behind them naming the teddy bear with Denki and Sero right on their heels suggesting outrageous names. That left you and Bakugo walking side by side, the only two silent.
You weren’t exactly uncomfortable, just distracted by the teasing going on in front of you. Chuckling and shaking your head, occasionally giving your two scents on the names Denki and Sero were spewing. You walked casually, almost forgetting the grenade beside you. Almost.
The conversation in front of you became more of the four, so you took it as your sign to respectfully resign yourself. Now becoming more aware of the situation you’re in, you walked with your shoulders slightly more squared, your eyes gazing over the view of city buildings and closed up shops. Anything but the walking firecracker next to you, with his hands in his pockets and a slightly more relaxed scowl on his face.
After three more minutes of silent walking, your fingers started fidgeting with the hem on your shirt, teeth biting the inside of your cheek unconsciously.
Does he find this awkward? Does he wish he were with anyone else?
No, you know what? Screw it.
Before you could overthink it you cleared your throat, “Hey so, did you have a good time?” Your voice came out shakier than intended, your nervousness painfully obvious. You cursed yourself internally for it.
Bakugou side eyed you, crimson eyes narrowing as he reads between the lines of your tone. “Yeah, good enough of a time possible with you idiots.” His voice was gruff, annoyed as ever.
A quiet chuckle slipped out before you could stop it, his jaw ticked imperceptibly. You tried to think of something to say, your eyebrows furrowing once more in thought.
Bakugo walks alongside you with the long growing silence, except for the sound of the gears turning in your head. He keeps noticing the way you bite the inside of your cheek while you think of what to say, how your lips part slightly and then shut just as fast as you deem whatever you were about to say unworthy. His scowl deepens, jaw ticking and hands digging deeper into his pockets as if physically restraining himself from opening your jaw and making you speak.
“Just spit it out already, idiot. You’re pissing me off.” He breaks the silence with a borderline commanding tone, sharp crimson eyes locking onto yours.
You snap from your thoughts, looking at him wide eyed with slightly parted lips. Your mouth moves a couple times, your brain still trying to process the request.
“What?” You ask just to buy time and think of a proper sentence to say in the mess that is your thoughts.
“You deaf or something?” He snaps back, the last of his thin patience wavering into nothing. “Just say what you're thinking, is that so hard?” His voice is practically a growl.
You blink once, twice, trying to figure out why you're not more intimidated than you should be but more intrigued. You licked your lips and cleared your throat before speaking,
“The girls were talking about suggesting to watch a movie later in the common room. What kind of movie would you suggest?” Your voice came out quiet, but steadier than before.
See? Progress.
“Tch. Seriously? That's what took you so goddamn long?” He says gruffly, annoyed with how much of a big deal you were making about something so seemingly simple.
Nevermind.
A pause.
“Rom-com.” He replies slightly less annoyed from before now that you finally spit out your question. “Anything in that genre.” He continues, turning his head to face forward again casually like he didn't just short circuit your brain.
“Rom-com?” You say almost immediately, your tone higher pitched in disbelief and eyes widening slightly in surprise. “You…Katsuki Bakugou…like rom-coms?”
His expression twists in defenses.“Tch. Is that a goddamn problem nerd?” He barks back, causing you to laugh a full belly laugh. Denki and Sero look back at you sharing a surprised glances and a chuckle before turning back to face forward. Bakugou scowls impossibly further, a low growl from the depth of his throat bubbling up.
“Stop laughing idiot!” He whirls on you while yelling out, hands clenching into fist in his pockets and teeth grinding together. You only laughed harder, clutching your stomach as you felt muscles tense.
Your laughter filling the once awkward silence was like sunshine finally peeking out from behind rain clouds, invading his head and heart without warning. An unfamiliar sense of warmth blossoms in his chest. Before he could process it, his face muscles relaxed. Observing the way your eyes crinkled and your smile lines framed your soft lips. Cheeks turning a soft red from the laughter and your sweet perfume getting carried by the night breeze into his lungs. He inhaled like it was the first time he'd ever smelled it, and maybe in a sense it was. Before this moment, you were just another friend from the group, but now he’s really noticing you.
In your fit of laughter, Bakugou steps slow just barely to better match yours. He himself didn’t even notice his feet quietly adjusting to you, if he did he probably would've scowled and walked faster out of anger at himself for making an accommodation for anyone. His head dropped down slightly towards the sidewalk while his tongue pushed on the inside of his cheek to suppress a rare smile threatening to show. He should've been upset at you for laughing at him, and part of him was. But a small, unfamiliar part of him wanted nothing more than to keep being the reason you were laughing.
“I'm sorry-” You gasp out between laughs, completely unaware of the internal shift he just faced.
Your voice cutting him from his thoughts and making his face form right back into his default scowl, his head snapping up to face you again.
“Like hell you are!” He barks out with less heat than before, taking a hand out of his pocket to point an accusing finger at you. “ I'll make you damn sorry if you don't stop laughing!” Even as the threat spilled from his lips, it carried less weight than usual.
You wipe a stray tear from under your eye as your laughter dies down, not from his threat but because you simply needed air. “Okay, there is absolutely no way you like rom-coms.” You say with exaggerated hand movements and a bright amused smile.
He huffs and shoves his hand back in his pocket, facing forward and refusing to look at you. “Believe what you want idiot.” he mutters.
“No no no, let's talk about this,” you say chuckling before continuing, “which one made you realize you liked em? Oh let me guess, How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days?”
He rolls his eyes hard, “Please, that cheesy ass movie? Hell no. When Harry Met Sally, easy.” He states like it's the most obvious pick in the world. His scowl lightens just slightly as scenes from his favorite movie replay in his head.
You smiled a little brighter, “A classic. Didn't know you of all people would enjoy a friends to lovers trope.” You say surprised but happy to be getting to know more about him.
After all, this is basically the first real conversation you guys have had. The real cherry on top was that no one else knows about this side of him. You couldn't help but get your hopes up, your harmless crush on him suddenly becoming a small burning flame in your chest. Was this a new beginning for you guys? A first step towards a level above whatever friendship you guys had before?
He shrugs, still with his hands in his pockets. “Better than all that fake horror movie shit. What kind of moron trips while being chased?” He scoffs annoyed, rolling his eyes like he’s mentally replaying every time a protagonist has fallen while running away from the killer in a film.
You laugh, also visualizing it. “Hey no debate here. I love horror movies but they really do get annoying after coming up with a million ways to evade every situation the main character gets put in.”
He looks at you with a borderline shocked expression, surprised someone actually had the same opinion as him on this before the look disappears just as fast as it came. “At least someone gets it.” He mumbles almost amused.
You smile and chuckle, your head tilting slightly as you look at him walking next to you under the moonlight. Ash-blonde hair ruffling in the breeze that smelled faintly of fresh cut grass. Streetlights overhead casting shadows down his sharp nose and jawline while his eyebrows released some of the permanent tension that lived there.
You couldn't help but realize how light you felt in this moment with him. The chatter from the group up ahead had disappeared from your notice, your focus solely on the fact that Katsuki Bakugou was holding a conversation with you. He hadn’t told you to shut up, yet. Or speed walk away with a click of his tongue.
So, you took this as your invitation to keep talking. For the rest of the ten minute walk back to campus, you’re rambling animatedly about your favorite rom-coms, comedy and action movies. Your arms wave around enthusiastically as your lips move a million miles a minute about every topic. Bakugou gives his two-cents on every topic but not enough for it to be considered a two way conversation. A “Tch. That movie? Seriously? What are you? Five?” When explaining your favorite rom-com or “That’s the worst acting I’ve ever seen from so-called professionals. Why would anyone waste an hour and thirty minutes of their day for THAT movie.” While explaining your favorite action movie. You laughed it off and kept talking considering all the complaining he’s doing is because he’s sat down and watched them himself at some point. Only when the view of the towering glass UA dorm building came into view did he say,
“You’re a damn chatter box huh?” With an amused chuckle to himself, still looking forward with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and walking with that easy confidence he permanently carried. He didn’t say it to offend you or even judge you. To him it was merely an observation he decided to state out loud, not expecting to have caused any harm with his silly seeming comment.
However, whatever words you had on your tongue died right there, your mouth clamping shut and heart sinking in your chest with embarrassment.
Holy shit, I really did just chew his ear off. Damn it, the one conversation I had with him I absolutely blew it.
You rub the side of your arm while chewing on the inside of your right cheek, self criticizing every word you said up to this point. Bakugou immediately notices when you're silent, how could he not? Just two seconds ago your mouth was partially open about to say something but now you're suddenly as silent as a mouse. Just before Bakugou seemingly was about to speak,
“Hey! You guys down for a movie night?” Jiro suggests from her spot at the front. Everyone immediately agrees with excited “yes!” and “duh!” mostly from Mina, Denki, and Kirishima.
Oh fun. A movie night. Could this get any worse?
You think to yourself as you walk inside the dorm building, everyone saying quick goodbyes before disappearing into their rooms to change into comfy clothes.
The sound of the bathroom extractor and running faucet water echo off your room walls. You stand in front of your bathroom sink, hoodie and sweats pants on, hair up in a messy bun and makeup off. The warm water runs over your hands as you wash away the soap and mortification from that interaction with Bakugo. Your gaze moves to the reflection of your face in the mirror, scanning over your disappointed features as you visualize the clown makeup over your features. Yeah, that level of mortification.
Absolute idiot. Just had to keep talking huh?
You take a deep breath and turn off the running water, the faucet creaking and the water flow turning into a steady drip of single droplets till it eventually ceases. Pushing off the sink counter with a huff, you mentally prepare yourself to walk out of your safe space and into the warzone.
When you arrive, the entire group is already in the low-lit common area. Everyone standing around the kitchen island talking and laughing excitedly while Momo hands out snacks from the pantry. The smell of buttery popcorn cooking and the sound of cornels popping on the stove fill the room. A smile paints your lips at the sight of everyone having a good time, Kirishima already fist deep in his favorite chips, Mina with sour airhead strips laughing loudly with Sero, Denki with goldfish and sour candy standing next to Jiro like a lost puppy with a smile, and Jiro with a pack of M&M talking with Momo at the pantry.
Everyone is having a great time with each other, besides Bakugou.
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you scan the area, finding him away from the group and already sitting on the leather brown couch, staring at you as you walk further into the space. He occupies the left corner of the couch, man-spreading with his left arm draped across the back of the cushions and head turned to see you. The black slim TV remote with multi-colored buttons lays on his lap, hand loosely around it as the screen loads up to show the movies category on Netflix.
Your heart does an embarrassing leap in your chest as your steps unconsciously slow down, the sight of him like a king on his throne making your cheeks flush. Crimson eyes study your features like he’ll have a quiz on them, blonde eyebrows pulled together making his relaxed features seem tense.
You swallow the lump forming in your throat and quickly look away from him like you were caught committing a crime. Your nerves start to make your hands clammy under your hoodie sleeves, a cold sweat deciding to break out on the back of your neck causing hairs to stick uncomfortably to the damp skin.
Kirishima is the first to notice you walking further into the room, with a toothy grin and an excited glint in his eyes he announces your presence to the group. “There you are! We were waiting for you!” He says, causing heads to turn and smiles to be pointed your way. Everyone is painfully oblivious to the thickening tension between you and Bakugous whose eyes you can feel burning a hole through the back of your skull.
You smile and start making conversation while grabbing a bowl and helping Jiro to put in the popcorn. Conversation is easy as always, echos of laughter bringing a warmth back to your chest and settling your nerves. You're being your usual loud and stupid self, making terrible jokes that cause the group to laugh at you rather than with you. Not that you mind, their joy is so infectious you forget to care.
Periodically, your eyes flick to where Bakugou resides. His watching gaze and annoyed expression makes your heart race all over again, like the last 15 minutes of laughter and smiles did nothing to ease your mind. You look away and shake off the anxiety as best as you can, focusing on the smiling faces in front of you rather than the cold, calculating gaze behind them.
Soon enough people start to take their spots on the couch, Mina on the opposite corner of the couch, Denki in the middle with Jiro on his right and Sero on his left, and Momo sitting on a nearby arm chair nursing a cup of tea. You and Kirishima stay standing a little longer as he grabs a soda from the fridge, laughing hard from a ridiculous joke you made and he added onto.
Bakugou rolls his eyes at the sight of you and Kirishima, sighing loudly to grab your attention. “Oi! Any day now nerds!” He complains with a grumble, but his impatient tone suggests an underlying reasoning for wanting you guys to sit down. Jealousy? No, definelty not..
You and Kirishima share a glance before giggling like kids and walking to the couch, whispering about ‘firecrackers and their attitudes’ which only made Bakugo click his tongue and track his red haired best friend beside you with a glare.
Kirishima being the gentleman he is, stands off to the side to let you pick where you want to sit first with an encouraging smile and tilt of his head. You look over the options and your smile fades slowly. Left side with a scowling Bakugou whose gaze is now locked on you, or Mina on the right laughing at something Denki said.
“You’re a damn chatter box huh?”
His words echo fresh in your mind, the feeling of your heart sinking in your chest and your spirits crumbling for the hope of…well, anything, still stinging. The embarrassment hasn't faded despite the time that passed and your heart still feels heavy with disappointment. You guys were having a great conversation, at least you thought. Now, looking back, it just feels one sided. Like the conversation was a chore or rather a courtesy since he got stuck next to you.
Kirishima waits patiently behind you with that permanent smile in his expression, popping open his soda with a click and fizz. You blink back the thoughts and with your eyes downcast, you take a seat next to Mina.
Bakugou watches you sit down, tracking your form as you curl into the cushions and glance at him. For a brief second, you could have sworn disappointment flashed in his gaze. His lips pulled into the faintest of frowns, his eyebrows pulling downward in slight confusion before it quickly disappears and is masked by a scowl. He tears his eyes from you and focuses on the TV, adjusting his hips on the couch and resting his elbow on the armrest before putting his cheek against his fist.
You frown slightly and do the same as Kirishima walks in front of you to sit next to Bakugou, turning your attention to focus on the TV with a small sigh. When you look, really look at the movie queued on the screen, your heart plummets down to your stomach.
A newly released rom-com sits patiently on screen, the trailer starting with slow romantic jazz and a montage of the movie over the “Watch” button.
Your eyes snap to his again, regret settling like a hundred pound weight on your chest. The music from the movie turns to static in your ears over the sound of your pounding heart. The chatter of the group dulls into a faint buzz and the smell of the various assortment of snacks meddle together into something sour in your nose. Bakugo's gaze stays forward, that same unreadable but annoyed scowl, Kirishima next to him offers snacks that he refuses with a click of his tongue.
The fabric of your oversized hoodie felt too tight on your frame, the lights overhead felt more like spotlights, all pointing at you for making the wrong choice.
He planned a rom-com.
You realize then that Bakugo had purposely sat down earlier than everyone else, claimed a spot on the couch with the remote in hand, and picked a movie from the conversations you guys had…for you. Maybe he had planned something to say when you sat next to him, something only the two of you would’ve understood. Maybe it could’ve turned into an inside joke, maybe you could’ve joked over the acting or talked about the cliches. Maybe, he had wanted you to sit next to him. Now, you’ll never get to know.
Your thoughts get cut off from the common room lights getting shut off by Momo in the corner of the room. The movie starts to play as the calm music and scenic city play over the TV. You lay back into the cushions trying to mold yourself into the leather, hoping you could just disappear for the next hour and thirty minutes of this rom-com.
The rom- com passes in a blur of tension and romantic music, none of which you bother to try to pay attention to. Your thoughts were too loud to pay attention to the scenes in front of you, your heart too fast to relax and enjoy much of anything, and your eyes would glance at a bothered Bakugo every ten minutes trying to read his thoughts from his face. Which was proven a futile effort after the seventeenth time.
He didn’t move or speak much during the movie, he would occasionally yawn loudly or adjust his position on the couch. Arms behind his head against the couch and legs manspreading enough to be comfortable and inconvenience Kirishima next to him. Unbeknownst to you, after every glance you snuck at him, he snuck one back. When he watched your face turn forward in his peripheral vision, he’d side eye you just enough to see that small frown on your lips and sagging shoulders under your hoodie. His eyes would narrow imperceptibly and lips pull into a tight line before looking back to the TV, not really watching the movie either.
Eventually, the names of directors and producers rolled over the closing montage. Jiro grabs the remote and shuts off the TV, plummeting the room into darkness aside from the single lamp in the corner still on. Despite the exhaustion settling in your bones you don't move, not wanting to be rude and leave when everyone is still seated. The group was tired enough to be yawning but still wound up from all the sugary snacks and drinks, so after no debate you all stayed seated on the couch. Mina the first to stretch and everyone following after her with groans and exaggerated noises.
“Man, I am stuffed.” Mina says before flopping back against the cushions. Denki laughs and does the same after stretching, resting his head against Jiro's shoulder. “Well you did eat most of the popcorn.” Kirishima and Momo laugh next.
You chuckle and rest your head against the couch cushions, instinctively turning your face to the side and meeting Bakgo’s waiting gaze. Butterflies flap their wings in your stomach, warmth creeping up your neck threatening to turn into a blush on your cheeks. Your expression is tired and apologetic, trying to telepathically apologize with your half lidded eyes and small frown.
Bakugo's expression remains unreadable, but he isn't scowling. Crimson eyes roaming over your every feature seemingly lost in thought. The chatter of friends talking, the AC blowing overheard, the smell of sugar from candy, it all fades into the background underneath the way he’s looking at you. Like you're the only woman in the room worth looking at.
He can tell that your shoulders are sagging more than before, your eyes barely able to stay open and your posture melting further into the cushions with every passing second. After two more seconds he comes to a silent conclusion and rises from his spot on the couch, shoving his hands in his sweatpant pockets and leaving without a word.
Kirishima is the first to notice his sudden departure, “Yo, Bakubro! You out?” He calls out while taking the now available space on the couch. Bakugo turns his face enough just to side eye him, "What it look like Shitty-Hair? Obviously.” He grumbles and continues walking down the dark hallway. Kirishima laughs and waves him off with an enthusiastic “Goodnight!” You watch his form grow distant down the dark hallway, long strides eating up the distance between him and his room.
You look away when his silhouette is out of sight, waiting approximately two minutes before getting up from your spot with a yawn, excusing yourself with a tired smile and mumbling “good night” to everyone. You walk slowly to your dorm room, stumbling over your dragging feet and keeping close to the wall. You reach your room and fumble with the doorknob before pushing it open and disappearing inside, unaware of Bakugo standing just two doors down in the darkness.
The next day, it was a beautiful Saturday morning. Birds chirping a song outside your window as leaves float down from trees and rays of sunshine pour in through your curtains to color the wooden floorboards in shades of yellow. Your room was colder than usual, AC from the building paired with your ceiling fan making your spot under your comforter a cocoon of warmth. Just as you switch positions and melt into your matress your 8 am alarm blares from your phone, cutting through the quiet atmosphere with the persistent ringing.
You groan and shut off your alarm, deciding to throw off your blankets and get up. You're already awake so might as well make the most of it. After doing your usual morning routine your stomach announces its hunger with a loud grumble, “Yeah yeah I heard you.” You mumble to your stomach before throwing on your favorite hoodie and pj pants, walking out of your room towards the common room kitchen. Yawning and tripping over your slippers you manage to make it to the kitchen, stopping at the threshold when you see Bakugo already there in his usual black tanktop and sweats combo with a white towel around his neck.
His back is facing you as he throws in mangos, pineapples, bananas, protein powder, coconut water, and ice into a blender. Twisting the lid onto the blender cup with forearms flexing, locking the cup into the machine and- his motions come to a halt, head turning over his shoulders to look at you.
You both stare at each other for five seconds, heavy silence stretching out between you two before you look around the empty kitchen with a sheepish expression. With a nervous giggle, “Good morning.” You say with a voice crack, coughing after and smacking your chest.
Nice one. Real smooth.
Bakugo almost smiles, if you classify his lip barely twitching upwards a smile. “Morning.” He says with a gruff tone before turning back to his smoothie, hiding the amused expression growing on his features.
You walk further into the kitchen and head to the cabinet where the bowls reside, grabbing your favorite bowl with a chip on the rim and listening as the smoothie blends together. After two minutes of loud whirring the blender shuts off, he unlocks the cup and opens the lid, throwing in a metal straw and turning to face you. One hand holding the cup to his lips and the other braced against the counter where his lower back rests against.
Silence falls over the space between you, unspoken words from last night creating a blanket of tension. You close the cabinet and set down the bowl on the counter, walking to the fridge and grabbing the milk carton.
After a couple seconds of internal encouragement you clear your throat, “What uh, are you doing up so early?” You ask while shutting the fridge door and setting the milk cartoon down next to your bowl. His eyebrows furrow and he takes the straw out of his mouth, licking his lips before saying, “Training. Obviously.”
You mentally smack your palm over your face, cursing yourself for being so stupid. Bakugo always trains in the mornings, even on weekends. You know this because he never lets anyone forget how ahead he is and how lazy they are, claiming "villains don't take weekends off, why should heroes?”
“Right, yeah of course.” You say with an embarrassed chuckle, turning away and soundlessly mouthing curse words at yourself as you grab a spoon from the drawer. He tracks your movements while sipping his smoothie again, already knowing what you’re going to grab. You work on autopilot to grab your favorite cereal from the cabinet, walking back to your spot with everything lined up and waiting.
Seriously? You just had to ask what he was doing huh? Damn idiot. Couldn't have asked anything else? I mean cmon, we know he trains every morning. He's been training since birth. Why not ask about his smoothie? Or his-
“You’re seriously going to eat that?” Bakugo’s annoyed voice cuts through your thoughts and silence in the room.
You look over to him, eyes blinking at him trying to figure out if you just imagined his voice. “What?”
He rolls his eyes before repeating, “The cereal. You're seriously going to eat that?”
Your eyebrows furrow in defense, “What's wrong with cereal?” You say holding the box between your hands to your chest like you would a baby.
“Tch. It's straight sugar and processed chemicals. You expect to be a top hero with that in your diet?” He says back like the box kicked his puppy and burned his house to the ground.
You roll your eyes and set down the box, one hand on your hip and the other braced against the counter. “It’s Saturday. Calories don’t count on the weekends.” You say with a bit of sass, Bakugo stares at you like you've grown two heads. Eye twitching in disbelief at the nonsense just left your mouth. Before he could tell you how ridiculous that is you put a hand up to silence him, “No judging my breakfast TNT, unless you plan on making me some I don't want to hear it.” You say turning to face the counter and ripping open the box.
Bakugo scowls, slamming down his half finished smoothie and snatching the box from your hands just before you could pour it. You whirl on him with your mouth open to protest but are met with his face inches from yours, close enough to see every individual eye lash and smell his natural scent of salted caramel and sweat. “Don’t give me that attitude.” He growls lowly, smacking the box down on the counter away from you without breaking eye contact. “You’re not eating this junk, you hear me?”
You blink up at him, butterflies swarming in your stomach and air becoming thinner in your lungs. The kitchen around you fades to nothing, his towering frame blocking out any other sight. Time slowed down just for you, giving the chance for tension to grow with every second of eyecontact. Somewhere down the hall a classmate coughs, the smoke director chirps and the condensation on his smoothie cup glides down the plastic.
Before you could even think to react he backs up, walking over to the stove and grabbing a frying pan that was set on top of low heat. Your expression quickly twists into confusion as he sets down the frying pan in front of you before grabbing a clean plastic fork he found on the counter and throws it carelessly next to the pan. He snatches his smoothie from the counter and shoves his free hand into his pocket, “Eat it.” He grumbles and rounds the counter, sitting on the barstool in front of you.
You look away from him to the pan. Inside is a small portion of seasoned scrambled eggs, sausage links, bacon, and potatoes. It wasn’t much, most likely the remnants of his own breakfast but it was more than enough to hold you off till lunch.
When did he make this? Was it on the stove the entire time?
While you try to figure out how you missed this, an audible slurp from him across the counterechoes in the kitchen. “Oi. You gonna eat it with your eyes or sum?” He mumbles around the straw in his mouth while giving you an almost amused look.
You blink out of your daze and pick up the plastic fork, mumbling something incoherent before stabbing a piece of egg and sausage before putting it in your mouth. When the taste registers you look at him as you chew, the fluffy eggs with just the right amount of pepper and sausage link that falls apart in your mouth are damn near perfect.
At your staring he asks,“What?” With a grumble as you swallow. “You made this?” You ask, still completely shocked at how delicious that small bite was. “Tch. Yeah, so what?” He responds before finishing off his smoothie and carelessly throwing the empty cup into the sink. The clatter of plastic against metal reverberated in the kitchen before settling, "It's really good.” You say already stabbing more onto your fork. He huffs from the praise, a grin threatening to form on his lips. “Obviously. Did you think it'd be bad?”
“I thought it'd be poisoned." You respond quickly around the mouth full of potatoes. Bakugo's tongue pushed on the inside of his cheek and exhaled sharply from his nose, hiding his amused smile and chuckle. “Shut up and eat the damn food woman.” He grumbles and watches you scarf down the next bite.
He watches you finish the portion of food, arms crossed on the counter and veiny hands on his biceps. With a satisfied hum you set down the dirty dishes into the sink, starting the water and lathering soap onto the blue scrub. After a couple minutes of the only sound in the room being running water, scrub working over dirty dishes and the occasional chirp of the smoke detector, Bakugo speaks up. “Don’t think we aren’t going to talk about last night.” His voice gruff but calmer than you’ve ever heard it.
Your heart plummets thirty stories down, a cold chill running down your body. You glance up at him and then back to the dishes, “um, what about last night?”
He huffs, “Don’t give me that. You know what happened.” His words hang in the air like an invisible force, guilt settling in your chest once more. “Why’d you do it?” He asks, looking away from you to the distant wall.
You stop scrubbing the pan in your hand, looking up at him and taking a couple seconds to collect your thoughts. “I thought you didn’t want me to sit next to you is all.” You say softly, guilt evident in your tone.
His jaw ticks, “Why?” The question leaves him immediately, eyes looking back to you now. You look down to the pan, chewing on the inside of your cheek from nerves. “You said I was a chatterbox, so I assumed I was bothering you. Thought you’d want some space.” You explain yourself in a low tone, shoulders sagging and waiting for him to storm off.
The kitchen goes silent aside from the background noise, multiple seconds pass before turning into a minute. “That’s not what I meant.” Bakugo says with less patience than before. “It was just an observation, it was never meant to insult you damn it.” He continues with his hands clutching his biceps, anger mostly directed at himself in every line on his face.
You blink down at the pan once, twice, before finally looking at him. “You don’t hate me?” You ask before you could even process the thought. “Tch. Don’t be an idiot.” He grumbles before continuing, “I don’t hate you.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, shoulders sagging in relief and heart rate starting to steady. “That’s reassuring.” You say with a chuckle, smiling at him and putting the soapy pan under the running water.
He huffs, but it’s half hearted. His shoulders lose tension imperceptibly, but you notice. You notice that his eyebrows aren’t furrowed, his eyes aren’t crinkled with their usual judgement, and his jaw isn’t clenched. You smile a little brighter, “Thank you, for talking about it. The last thing I wanted was for us to be awkward around each other.”
Bakugo studies the curve of your lips, the shape of your Cupid's bow and the color staining your cheeks. The way your eyes crinkled with happiness and smile lines that framed soft pink lips. For a split second, he felt like he’d never seen something so beautiful. He looks away when he catches himself staring with a grumble, “Shut up. Don't make it weird.”
You chuckle and continue washing dishes, feeling lighter and hopeful. For the next ten minutes Bakugo sits there as you clean, you ask him about his training and talk with him over his detailed schedule. Making jokes about being Type A and him yelling at you, making you laugh harder.
Over the next few months you and Bakugo grew closer. When you’d start conversations with him he’d give real responses rather than the short answers like he used too. He’d let you stand closer to him without complaint in crowded areas. He’d show trust by gravitating towards you when he wanted to stay quiet, letting you be loud for the both of you.
Slowly, you noticed things…progressing. He started inviting you to train with him in the mornings- okay, sure it was more of a suggestion with a time and a meeting spot but he didn’t look surprised when you showed up. He sat closer to you at lunch while you rambled on about Aizawa’s lecture an hour prior, glaring at you when he noticed your half eaten food getting cold on your tray. “Oi, talk later.” He’d say annoyed and push your tray further in front of you before going back to his own meal muttering about being ‘a damn babysitter.’ On weekend mornings he’d throw a towel over the blender so his morning smoothie wouldn’t wake you up from your sleeping state down the hall. Later when you'd stumble half awake to the kitchen, the smell of breakfast would greet you almost instantly. There sat Bakugo on his usual barstool with a plate of freshly cooked breakfast and a protein smoothie. But, in the pan was just enough to consider an extra serving for you. Not that he'd ever admit it, but he did make extra for you so you wouldn't eat that god awful cereal.
He initiated conversation with you while walking to class with an annoyed comment on the changing weather and other days sat in silence on the common room couch after a long day. Knees barely touching as he pretends to scroll through his phone and you read a book under a mountain of blankets. He took your health more seriously than you did, constantly commenting on the snacks you ate before throwing you one of his protein bars after snatching your bag of chips from your hands. “Keep eating like shit, I’m not dragging your ass when you need help in the field.” He’d comment when you protest, and immediately look away from your pouting expression. “Don’t look at me like that dumbass.” He’d grumble and walk away, leaving you with the protein bar and a belly full of butterflies. His expression started softening when he saw you, eyebrows relaxing and eyes uncrinckling. Standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder with you, letting his presence be enough to fill the silence. When a nickname you’d been dying to call him slipped out during conversation, you both froze, but he just looked away and said, “Keep talking idiot, don’t make it weird.” Was it outright permission? Not exactly, but it might as well have been.
Now it was the middle of fall, autumn colored leaves scattered on sidewalks and a cool breeze that smelled faintly of pine cones and rain drifted through the streets. It was your first day at your internship at Hawk’s agency. Bakugo was at Endeavors just down the street in his winter hero costume because, of course, even the breeze made him cold.
You spent your first day at Hawks side as he explains how everything runs and what your training schedule will look like. Red wings flaring out to stretch every few minutes as you walk down hallway after hallway. “My office is here, where I unfortunately do mountains of paperwork in one sitting till 3 am.” He said in a sarcastically cheerful tone with a look of repulsion at the glass office, earning him a laugh from you. He’d grin and continue with the tour of the facility, treating you like a celebrity on the red carpet escorting you around like a personal body guard. By the end of your first day it was clear you and Hawks were going to be good friends, your personalities meshed perfectly and respect went both ways, not just for recognition as a Pro Hero to an upcoming Hero, but for the undeniable fact that any room you walked into you could bring light.
As expected, you both became the best of friends. The internship quickly became more of a play date. Training was spent laughing between drills and combo attacks, patrol was spent talking endlessly about funny arrest stories from Hawks and Aizawa lectures from you, while paperwork was dreaded on in his office over boxes of takeout.
Every night like clockwork at 8 pm you’d call Bakugo for thirty minutes and go over your day. Telling him about every stupid joke during patrol and funny arrest stories. He would listen to you talk about Hawks like an old friend you'd known for years rather than a Pro Hero you met days ago with an annoyed scowl and clicks of his tongue. “You and featherbrain seem chipper.” He commented with a bothered tone, scowling at his wall mentally picturing Hawks face. You’d laugh it off and continue rambling. He could tell how happy you were at your agency and it made him jealous that ‘birdbrain’ was the cause. Despite him not wanting to admit it, you could hear it when he’d sigh or yawn loudly mid story, scoffing at the mention of Hawks every chance he got.
On the last day of the internship, Hawks invited every Pro Hero and their internship students to a night out. A reserved rooftop lounge in the heart of downtown for the night to celebrate the upcoming end of the internships.
You spent two hours getting ready for tonight. Your favorite getting ready playlist blasting from your phone speaker. Everything-shower was accomplished, lotion and perfume on, hair dolled up to your perfection, make-up flawless with no caking, and the dress you're wearing accentuates every dip and curve on your body. To say the least, you look stunning.
As you were slipping your kitten heels on, your phone rang from its spot on your nightstand. You walk over and smile at the familiar contact lighting up your screen. You pick up the phone and put it on speaker. “Hey Suki, what's up?” You say cheerfully and slip your heels on. A huff at the nickname can be heard from the other side and some rustling, “You’re going to that stupid party tonight right?” His gruff voice answers as a form of greeting. You chuckle, shaking your head and getting the first heel on. “Yeah I'm going. You?” He groans on the other end, “Yeah.” He says with an annoyed exhale. You can already picture his expression, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose with his phone to his ear. You smile to yourself and slip on the other heel. “I’ll see you there then.” You say excitedly before grabbing your phone from the charger. He sighs before mumbling, “Yeah whatever.” Hanging up right after. You chuckle to yourself and head out the door.
When you get to the party your jaw threatens to drop. The night sky was glittering with stars, a full moon illuminating the space along with several blue, purple, and red lights. Night traffic below sounded miles away, cars honking and faint shouting audible in the distance.
The rooftop was covered in strung up fairy lights, plush couches with coffee tables in front of each, standing tables without chairs along the railings and decorative plants in many corners. The back held the bar where a bartender shook a drink for Present Mic with two hands, the dance floor was just in front of it with two massive speakers hidden near the bar.
The entire class 1-A was already there mingling around the rooftop, Jiro next to Denki as he spoke to Sero with a bright smile. Ochaco with Tsuyu on one of the couches nearest the entrance, and Tenya with Momo at one of the standing tables likely talking about class related topics. But, as always, your eye caught on Bakugo.
He was wearing a black button up long sleeve, black belt with a grenade buckle and black pants. Ash-blonde hair spiky and rustling in the autumn breeze and crimson eyes assessing every passing hero as if sizing them up for a fight. Which, to be honest, he probably is doing.
Sensing someone watching him, his gaze lands on you, eyes roaming slowly from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. His eyes widen ever so slightly, throat suddenly going dry and hands sweatier than usual in his pockets.
You walk over to where he stands next to Mina and Kirishima with a smile, Mina immediately greeting you with a tight hug and a squeal. “There you are! You look gorgeous!” You laugh and hug her back, “Says you!” Kirishima whistles playfully with an ear to ear grin. “Looking fancy!” He says with a lighthearted tone, giving you a side hug in the process. You look over to Katsuki next, “Long time no see huh?” You say with a warm smile. He gives you another up-down look before muttering, “Clearly.” Mostly to himself. You chuckle and smooth out your dress, “Forgot what I looked like or something?” He huffs, which you’ve come to realize is his form of a chuckle, and looks away to the distant bar. “Tch. Don’t be ridiculous.” He grumbles and clenches his jaw.
Your eyebrows furrow as you study his demeanor, he seemed…nervous. But why? Mina and Kirishima share a knowing glance before smiling to themselves, clearly knowing something you don't.
The rest of the evening passed easier than expected. Music drifted through the rooftop lounge while heroes laughed over drinks and internship students swapped stories from the past week.
Hawks, naturally, was everywhere.
He pulled you into conversations, introduced you to heroes you hadn’t met yet, somehow convinced Present Mic to tell the story of the time he’d accidentally blown out every microphone in a three-block radius, and convinced you to dance the Macerena with him. You laughed until your stomach hurt, smiling so bright your cheeks hurt from the strain.
And every single time…Katsuki noticed. He stood off to the side by the railing watching you trip over your heels on the dance floor. He noticed the way Hawks could make you laugh within seconds. The way you lightly shoved his shoulder after another joke. The way Hawks leaned down to hear you over the music with his smug grin and sharp eyes.
Katsuki hated every second of it. But why? He scowled to himself and came to a silent conclusion. By the time the party started winding down, he’d had enough.
He found you standing near the railing overlooking the city, taking in the cool autumn breeze as you recharge your social battery after the night you've had. You took in deep breaths and looked down to cars stopping at traffic lights and citizens closing up shops for the night.
“Oi.” A familiar gruff voice cut through the peace.
You startled and turned to face Katsuki, putting a hand over your chest as you exhaled with a chuckle. “Oh—hey, Suki-”
“Come here.” Without waiting, he stepped forward and grabbed your wrist between his thumb and pointer finger, walking you both toward the quieter end of the rooftop.
You stumbled but caught your footing, “Kat what the hell?” He huffs and turns his head over his shoulder to glare at you. “I should be asking that."He snaps back before facing forward again, the corner between the bar and railing slowly coming into view. You physically lean back like his words put a wall between you. “What are you so mad about?” You say back, annoyed at his attitude. He responds with, “Tch.” And pulls you faster.
When you're finally away from prying eyes and listening ears he whirls on you, pinning you against the wall with his hands on either side of your head. “Just what the hell do you think you're doing?” His tone is accusing, crimson eyes narrowed in frustration and nostrils flaring. You blink a couple times, completely taken aback.“Wha-”
“The past week has been Hawks this Hawks that. So just what's going on?” Your expression twists into confusion and offense. “Nothings going on Katsuki-”
“Like hell there isn't. You think I don't know that smile? That laugh?” He says sharply before continuing. “I know you. I know you forget to zip your backpack after class. I know that regardless how tired you are you won't leave the room first out of respect. I know you forget your water bottle after a long training session. I know how you prefer drinking energy drinks over coffee. I know you hum your favorite song when you think no one can hear. I know you damn it.” He says all in one breath, panting after but never breaking eye contact.
You forgot how to breathe, eyes wide and heart racing. The city below, the music still playing over the speaker, the clinking of cups, it all fades to nothing. You stare up at him like you're seeing him for the first time, bringing your hands up to cup his face. He doesn't flinch, doesn’t blink, doesn't even breathe. “Say something damn it.” His voice breaks. His cheek turning in your palm as if chasing comfort.
You brush your thumb back and forth on his cheek, a smile pulling your lips. “Ask me, Katsuki.” You whisper, tilting your head to the side. “Please.”
He stares at you for a minute, memorizing this moment with you like he won't get another. “Be my woman.” He says softly, softer than you'd ever heard before. “Be the voice I hear every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. Be the woman I work everyday to deserve.”
You laugh breathlessly, not because anything is funny, but because the grenade you’ve had a crush on for months is asking you to be his. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crock of his neck, inhaling his caramel sweet scent and feeling his warmth seep into your bones. “Yes. A million times yes.” You murmur into his skin.
His arms wrap around your waist like an iron band, pulling you flush against his chest with no intention of letting go. Not tonight, not ever. He laughs breathlessly with his chin resting on the top of your head, shoulders sagging in relief and lips twisted into a smile.
Seconds later you feel his hand leave your waist and cradle the back of your neck, pulling you gently away from where your face was and leaning you back enough to look at you. “You’re mine, you understand?” He asks and doesn’t wait for a response before dipping his head down and pressing a firm kiss to your lips. “All damn mine.” He murmurs against your lips before kissing you again.
The kiss was a mixture of passion and devotion, like your lips moving against his was unraveling him in ways he never thought possible. He spelled promises with every motion, swore oaths of loyalty with every groan. Because, when Katsuki met you, he knew you’d be his everything.
You were surprised by Bakugo's outburst, but you didn't react. There were no tears to hold back or anger to unleash.
You considered yourself lucky that Bakugo even let you train with him. If he didn't want to anymore & the only way he could tell you was one of his spectacular tantrums…Well, you were fine with it.
“Okay.”
Bakugo's jaw clenched, his teeth nearly cracking from the pressure as you left the training area. You didn't look back and you weren't even bothered. That was how Bakugo saw it and it pissed him off even further.
“Bro, what the hell?” Denki snapped before rushing out after you.
Later that night you were sitting on the couch in the common room, lost in your own thoughts when a hand settled on your shoulder, surprising you. The last person you expected was Shoto.
“You okay?”
“What? Yeah. I just need to work out a different training schedule.”
“I'm hungry. Do you want to get Soba with me?”
You smiled before nodding. Without warning Shoto took your hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours.
“Um, Sho. You're holding my hand.”
“That's what you do on a date.”
Your heart jumped to your throat.
“A date…”
“Yeah. We're getting Soba.”
Denki stopped short when he saw Shoto take your hand. Shock and anxiety washed over him as he began debating on telling Bakugo or not. Maybe this once it wasn't his business.
Bakugo took a deep breath as the hot water ran over his knotted muscles. Taking his stress out on you wasn't what he wanted. And the way you just accepted it…Like it didn't matter. Like HE didn't matter. That made him even angrier at himself. Made him far more confused about his feelings for you.
Worse, he didn't have any idea how to apologize. Fuck that. How the hell would he ever confess now? No way you'd ever believe him. Fuck! His damn mouth and temper.
Bakugo was drying his hair when he walked into the common room. You were sitting next to Shoto holding some stupid looking plushie.
“That's so sweet! We should go on a double date next time!” Ochacco spoke excitedly, leaning into Deku.
“Sure,” Shoto shrugged.
Deku smiled when he saw Bakugo.
"Oh hey Kacchan.”
“Hey. Uh, Y/N, can we talk?”
"Sure."
You handed Shoto your plushie, giggling when he stood up bumping into you.
"I'll put this in your room.”
Shoto headed out of the common room and you followed Bakugo down the hall.
“What's up?”
“About earlier. I wasn't pissed at you and I didn't mean it.”
“Okay.”
You walked away further blowing Bakugo's mind. Did you really think nothing of him? No, that couldn't be it. Otherwise you wouldn't have stuck around training with him for the last year. So, what the fuck were you suddenly doing with Shoto?
Today is the first time in 2 years I wont be logging into LADS. I don't know anymore what is going to happen, but if Valko doesn't come back then I am done with the game.
Holding out hope he is released in the next month, but I dunno anymore.
Maybe I'm too attached to the game, but it does feel like I'm breaking up with Sylus. And it sucks. He got me through 2 rough years. But either way game character or not he knows he's loved.
An Idea in Progress (need to hit lotto so I can stop working and write nonstop).
Imagine your mother was a lead researcher for EVER making a "cure" to completely suppress your wolf and all associated "troubles". She succeeds in 'curing' you and you never know what you are. Always feel empty, but dont know why. (She knew grandma Caleb & Mc & was even working a way to fix mc heart)
Then Caleb finds out about you. That you figured out MC's heart issue by continuing your mom's work and caleb coordinates to have you taken from the EVER facility. (He knows its the only way to get you out and safely away from EVER, but he'll need some help.
(Basic Caleb plan: Valko grabs you/Sylus hides you in N109 until you have to meet with Zayne to go over the procedure for MC).
Valko comes to grab you only to realize you are his mate & you can hold your own against him. Valko tries to explain he needs your help for a friend. You listen to him & agree to send your work to Zayne. You know of Zayne and respect his work (but you refuse to leave with Valko).
Only problem is the "creation" protocore (a theory completely different from creatio core in Zayne storyline) is locked up in EVER in your labs. So you can forsake the entire life you've known at EVER etc to help some stranger or ignore it and keep living your life in ignorance. (Valko wont let the latter happen. Not when he realizes you have no idea about your true heritage).
Imagine caleb coming into your lab & examining your work on the chalkboard & his shock to see the comments scribbled.
**can heart be separated from protocore?**
Answer: yes, but too risky
**can heart be replaced w/o loss of life?**
Answer: yes. Safest route/experimental
**stabilize aether core?** too easy
And all he can wonder is why a heart transplant would be experimental? & why the hell this sounds like MC's heart issue is being discussed as if it was a simple crossword puzzle. Like someone had the answers this whole time & no one said a damn thing.
Taking pictures of the boards he leaves to find Zayne.
Would heavily feature Valko once reader introduced to MC. Funnily enough have a bunch written down just need to put it together lol. Working 24/7 lol. Just wanna write.
The scent of the apartment hit him before he even reached the door.
That was always how it worked. Valko would clear the front door, shift his bag on his shoulder, and without thinking—without even meaning to—his chest would expand, pulling in everything. The sharp bite of the laundry detergent you both used, the faint trace of the citrus dish soap from the morning’s coffee mugs. The ghost of whatever you'd cooked that morning. And underneath all of it, quiet and constant and unbearably familiar, the warm specific sweetness of you.
Two years of this. Two years and it still stopped him on his tracks every single time.
To anyone who shared a class with him, Valko was the guy with half rimmed glasses, soft sweaters, neckband headphones around his collar like he'd forgotten they were there, a battered copy of whatever textbook he was working through dog eared on his desk. He took meticulous notes in handwriting that was almost too neat.
He called his mother every Sunday without fail, usually from the kitchen while something was already on the stove. He brought back containers of homemade food after weekend visits home and left them in the fridge with little labeled lids because he knew you'd forget to eat otherwise.
He was, by every reasonable measure, a gentle giant with a soft spot for his family and an embarrassing weakness for old equipment manuals.
The wolf underneath all of that was another matter entirely.
He'd stopped trying to logic his way out of it somewhere around month six of your lease. The obsession had settled into him quietly, the way water finds the shape of whatever holds it—gradual, total, and by the time he noticed, already everywhere. He loved the way you laughed when he miscalculated a doorframe carrying furniture. He loved that you used his arm like a headrest when you were tired without seeming to notice you were doing it. He loved that you trusted him with the small, unglamorous parts of your life—the bad days, the grocery runs at midnight, the moments when you needed someone solid nearby without having to explain why.
He told himself it was just closeness. That it was natural, living with someone this long. That plenty of people felt this way about their roommates.
He was lying to himself and he knew it.
You never noticed the small things. That was the part that made it simultaneously easier and worse.
You didn't notice the way his jaw tightened every time you mentioned Caleb's name in passing. You didn't notice that when he draped his coat over your shoulders on cold nights, he always took a moment longer than necessary to settle it there, his hands resting briefly on your shoulders, his nose dipping almost imperceptibly toward your hair. You didn't notice the way his whole body oriented toward you when you moved through a room, like a plant turns toward a window without deciding to.
Two years of this and you'd noticed none of it.
Caleb, though. Caleb was a different kind of problem.
The name sat wrong in Valko's mouth every time he heard it. Your boyfriend. The pilot stationed out in Skyhaven, the one who'd existed in Valko's life as nothing more than a name and a reason you packed a bag every other weekend. You always went to him. A wave from the doorway, a small oveñnight bag, the shuttle to Skyhaven. Back by Sunday night, sometimes Monday morning if the transit ran slow.
Two years, and Valko had never once seen him. Fine. He could work with that.
What he couldn't work with was the scent. Or rather, the complete absence of it.
It defied every instinct he had. A man who kept a woman—who spent weekends with her, who held her hand and her body—should leave something behind. It was a biological fact, not a sentiment. Every time you came home from Skyhaven, Valko would brace for it. Would stand in the hallway with his teeth ground together preparing to smell another man all over you.
Every single time, there was nothing.
Just you. Clean and warm, like you'd spent the weekend alone in a hotel and not with someone who was supposed to love you. No territorial overlap. No claim. Nothing.
It didn't reassure him. It made him furious. A man who loved you would mark you without even trying—it would just happen, the natural consequence of closeness and time. The fact that it hadn't happened said something.
He doesn't know what he has.
Since Caleb clearly wasn't going to handle it, Valko had decided— without discussing it with anyone, including himself—to handle it instead.
It had started small. Sitting on your side of the couch when you were out because "the lamp was better over there". Leaning in your doorframe a beat longer than necessary. Gradually, the apartment had become his in ways that only his own nose could confirm. Your throw blanket carried him now. The pillow on the left side of your bed—your side—carried him. He'd lie across your mattress on the afternoons you were in seminar, shoulders rolling slow against the sheets, transferring the scent from the back of his neck and the inside of his wrists onto everything you'd touch when you slept.
He wanted to be the reason the room felt safe to you, even if you'd never know why.
The laundry had come later. He'd started folding yours without being asked because it was a practical thing to do, a completely normal roommate thing—and if his hands slowed over certain items, if he stood in the laundry room for longer than strictly necessary with warm shirts pressed to his face, that was between him and the four walls.
He wasn't proud of the drawer.
Your scent there was undiluted, something the rest of the apartment couldn't match—private, concentrated, intimate. The first time he'd opened it he'd been looking for your spare key. He'd stood there for a long time, glasses pushed up into his hair, one hand braced on your dresser, taking slow careful breaths and trying to remember what reasonable behavior felt like.
He'd gone back to his room. He'd thought about you.
He'd told himself it would clear his head.
It had not cleared his head.
Two days ago he stood in front of your closet with his heart going faster than he wanted to admit.
You'd been out getting groceries. His hand moved through your dirty clothes on autopilot, past the jeans, past the sweaters, until his fingers closed around silk.
Soft. Warm from being buried against other fabric. Almost nothing against the width of his palm.
He lifted them to his face before he'd fully decided to.
There was your scent, the core of it. He stood there breathing it in with his eyes closed and his chest heaving, and then, he searched. Every thread. Looking for any trace of another man underneath yours.
Nothing. Just you. Entirely unmarked you.
The growl that came out of him was low enough that only he could hear it.
Something about that absence sent a rush of heat down his spine that he wasn't prepared for. His back had found the closet wall.
He couldn't stop himself.
One hand kept the silk pressed to his face. The other worked fast around his cock, his jaw tight, breathing controlled through sheer habit. He'd imagined you beneath him, his weight pinning you into the mattress, his teeth finding the curve of your shoulder, his scent finally, permanently replacing the nothing that Caleb had left behind. When he came it was blinding and quiet, his head dropping back, his whole body shaking with the force of it.
He'd cleaned up carefully. Returned everything. Walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on like a normal person.
He was a patient man. He was methodical. He had excellent grades and he called his mother on Sundays and he was going to wait for the right moment. But the conclusion had already been reached, somewhere in the back of his skull where logic and instinct lived side by side.
He was going to take you. It was a matter of time. He was just waiting for the right moment to show you that a real man didn't leave his woman smelling like an empty room.
--------------------------
The July heat was suffocating. Valko had been inside an exam room for two hours and his brain felt wrung out like a dish cloth. His glasses had fogged twice on the walk from campus, he was looking forward to the AC. He was looking forward to you.
It was a Friday so he'd stopped at the bakery on the corner. Two cinnamon rolls, extra cream cheese frosting. He had them in a plastic bag hooked over two fingers.
He reached the door and stopped. His nose twitched.
The scent of the hallway was wrong. Not dangerous, just wrong.
Valko's brow creased. He put his glasses back on.
He unlocked the door slowly, the click of the mechanism very loud in the quiet hallway, and pushed it open.
The air inside hit him all at once.
He stopped moving. His hand stayed on the doorknob, grip tightening by degrees until the metal pressed hard into his palm, and he stood in the entryway and looked at his living room like a man trying to solve a problem he hadn't been told existed.
There was someone on the couch.
Long legs stretched toward the coffee table. Dark tactical jacket, sleeves pushed up, the kind of build that came from actual use rather than a gym.
And tucked against his side, head on his chest, hand flat against his collarbone—
You. Laughing at something he'd just said.
Caleb.
Valko's mind was still trying to catch up. His instincts weren't waiting.
The heat that moved through him was immediate, flooding from his chest out, his vision sharpening at the edges the way it did when something in him decided a situation required full attention. His breathing stayed controlled—barely, through discipline and nothing else—while every animal thing in him was screaming to move forward. To put himself between you and the man currently comfortable in a space he had no right to be comfortable in.
My couch. The thought was irrational and he knew it and it didn't help. My apartment. My—
As if feeling the shift in the room, Caleb's head turned.
His eyes found Valko's across the space with a directness that said he'd known someone was there before the door finished opening. Dark eyes, calm, taking in Valko's full height and the white knuckled grip on the doorframe.
He didn't look away.
Neither did Valko.
You sat up, something lighting in your face when you saw him. "You're home early." You smiled, easy and warm, completely unaware of the temperature of the room. "Valko, this is my boyfriend Caleb. Caleb, this is my roommate, Valko."
Caleb stood up and extended his hand. He was tall—nearly matching Valko’s height—but where Valko was built like an immovable wall of muscle, Caleb possessed the lethal, agile grace of a feline.
Valko crossed the room and took it.
"Good to meet you," Caleb said. Flat. Even.
And the bottom dropped out of everything he thought he understood.
The scent hit him the second their palms connected, not foreign, not the aggressive territorial brand of another man he'd been grinding his teeth against for two years. It was you—your exact scent, the one Valko had spent two years cataloguing down to its smallest note—but run through something else entirely. Deeper. Heavier. Amplified through the biology of a dominant male until it had become its own thing, something that pressed into Valko's lungs like a hand against his sternum and didn't let up.
Caleb smelled like you the way a home smelled like the people who lived in it.
Two people did not share the same biological signature. That was not how any of this worked. Unless—
His brain didn't finish the thought. His body had already moved on without him.
The heat he felt all over his body was not aggression. That was the part that made no sense, the part that his wolf had no framework for because this wasn't a territorial response. This wasn't the hot, focused anger he'd been bracing for every time he imagined finally meeting the man who had you. This was something strange and considerably more humiliating, a frequency he hadn't known he could receive, vibrating straight through the bones of his hand where Caleb's grip still held.
His cock hardened so fast his vision went momentarily white at the edges.
He couldn't stop it. Couldn't reason with it. Two years of wanting you, of your scent living in the back of his throat like something he'd swallowed and never fully digested—and now here was this man, wearing you like a second skin, your sweetness wound so completely through his scent that Valko couldn't separate the two. Couldn't find where you ended and Caleb began.
It was the most overwhelming thing he had ever experienced. His knees felt weak.
Caleb's grip tightened.
His eyes hadn't moved from Valko's face. Valko watched the shift happen—the smile staying but changing underneath, becoming something quieter and darker. He'd clocked the pupil dilation. He'd clocked all of it.
"Something wrong?" Caleb asked
Valko could not breathe. The apartment was saturated with your/his scent and his body was making decisions he hadn't authorized, and he was going to do something catastrophic if he stayed in this room for another ten seconds. He didn't know what but he didn't want to find out.
He pulled his hand back.
"I forgot—" His voice came out completely unrecognizable. He didn't look at you. Couldn't. "The lab. I left something. I have to—"
He was already at the door. He had no memory of crossing the room.
The hallway air hit him cold and he kept walking, down the stairs, out into the July heat that suddenly felt like nothing compared to what he'd just left behind.
"Ughhh, I'm so out of shape and flabby. But I hate going to the gym. Absolutely HATE it. But I love sweets...What am I supposed to do? Die?"
Mina giggled at your dramatic display, arm now covering your face as you leaned your head back on the couch.
"Why don't you ask Kiri or Sero. Kiri is super dedicated and will help you without constant screaming. Or Sero who is less dedicated, so no unintentional guilt, but will make sure you hit those goals."
"Love you offering up your boyfriend for training, but ehh, I think I need someone to be mean. Guilt doesn't even get me to the gym."
"If you ask Bakugo you will not get out of any workouts. Know that and feel it in your soul."
You groaned, laying your head in her lap looking up at her.
"Why can't I just look good like you."
Mina laughed.
"Oh sweetie, Kiri makes me work out just not at the gym."
You sat up groaning.
"Ew gross...Though if Bakugo offered that kind of workout...Nevermind. Can't put that out in the universe."
"Well, you'll figure something out."
The next morning you were stretching in your room when someone knocked.
"Good your dressed. Let's go."
"Huh. What?"
"Heard you bitchin to Mina yesterday."
You froze wondering just how much he heard.
"You heard? All of it?"
Bakugo smirked when he saw how embarrassed you were.
"Enough to know you ain't gonna get what you need from shitty hair or elbows trainin' ya."
You shouldn't be reading into that innocent statement, but how could you not when he wore that smirk.
"You don't mind, then?"
"Tch. Wouldn't have offered if I did. C'mon, gotta build your stamina if ya wanna get to the Kiri/Mina workout," Bakugo eyed you up and down before walking away.
Not only had he heard it all, now he knew you wanted to jump him. Ugh.
Bakugo walked away full smile because now he didn't need an excuse to spend time with you. And of course he'd have to touch you to correct your movements. It's what any good trainer would do. So, yeah, he was going to enjoy pushing your limits. At the gym, of course.
You were watching your favorite horror movie when someone knocked on the door. The past few nights there had been warnings about metaflux, blah, blah and some unknown dangerous beast roaming the streets. As you stood up you wondered if you should open the door at all, but then another knock.
“Valko?”
Those golden eyes locked with yours and that lopsided grin made your stomach drop.
“Hey, can I come in?”
“What are you doing here? And how did you know where I live?”
“Happy to answer all those questions once you let me in.”
You smiled in spite of yourself and stepped aside to let him in, well against your better judgement. You locked the door and found him moving around your apartment listlessly. Crossing your arms over your chest you leaned your hip against the door way of the living room.
“So, gimme those answers,” you smirked.
Valko grinned before plopping down on one of the chairs, putting his feet up on the coffee table.
“MC told me you lived here. As for what I’m doing here…When I like someone, I make a move.”
You arched an eyebrow at him before moving back to the couch and sitting down ignoring him. Since MC had introduced you to Valko you’d been forced to start keeping secrets and though you didn’t have anyone to even share them with, it had put you on edge. And maybe a little at odds with MC. Valko sat down beside you, your knees touching and so you scooted away from him.
“I already told you I’m not interested,” you turned the volume up on the t.v.
“And you know I’m a wolf. That I can smell your desire,” he lowered his voice on purpose, scooting closer to you.
You looked over at him smiling wickedly.
“What I desire right now...is some popcorn, Wolfie.”
You stood up before he could catch you and headed to the kitchen. Valko slipped up behind you without a sound, his hands settling on the counter, caging you in as his head settled on top of yours.
“Hmm. You smell good enough…”
“Say to eat and I’m throwing your ass off my balcony…”
Valko backed away chuckling and leaning against the island counter taking you in. It wasn’t simply your scent because that could be changed easily enough with the bullshit EVER was doing these days. It was you. The attitude you gave him, the way you weren’t so easily won over and your laugh. Valko could live on that laugh for the rest of his life and never regret choosing you.
“Is this better?”
You were cooking the popcorn on the stove and turned smiling when you saw his ears and tail. You wanted to turn him away, but he wasn’t the typical alpha asshole and he always found a way around your walls to make you laugh. Valko was intentional and it made it impossible to ignore him.
“MC is home. She doesn’t mind taking in strays.”
You turned back to the popcorn, not surprised when you felt his chest against your back again. This time his chin was resting on your shoulder and you honestly didn’t mind.
“Why are you cooking it this way?” Valko’s voice was full of curiosity.
“Tastes better this way. Trust me.”
Valko remained in the same position until you finished the popcorn and dumped it in a bowl. Valko popped a piece in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully following you to the living room.
“That package says jiffy pop, but the microwave kind is faster.”
You laughed at his innocent statement setting the bowl on the table so you could both grab it. The lights began to flicker and then went out, but you were always prepared and reached for the small battery operated camping lantern you kept next to the lamp. A knock on the door pulled you up from the couch.
“Hey Y/N. Just wanted to check on you…”
“She’s fine.”
Valko had gotten in front of you and shut the door on your neighbor before you could open your mouth. You could feel the tension from Valko and so you placed a hand against his back watching as the muscles relaxed.
“Jealousy is cute, but you shouldn’t be slamming doors in my neighbor’s face. And don’t try the puppy dog eyes on me or the whine.”
The lights came back on and you sat back down, not moving away from Valko when he rested a hand on your knee, his thumb moving over it slowly.
“I know you don’t believe in fated mates and you think you have no scent, but even if that was true…I like you.”
Valko’s words were soft and they managed to plow right through your last wall of defense. You met his gaze and bit your bottom lip attempting to reel in your emotions.
“You can smell me?”
Valko smiled gently and cupped the side of your face.
“Water lilies, fresh pine and…”
“And what?”
“Mine.”
You laughed softly before kissing his nose and laughing harder when you saw his tail wag.
“You better get used to the couch because you are not sleeping in my bed.”
“Not tonight,” Valko whispered rubbing his nose against yours.
Warnings: a bit sexual (no actual sex), mentions of blood, lots.
Sylus was in his study with Valko when Luke burst in, covered in blood and out of breath.
“Boss, we have a problem.”
“MC?”
“She’s fine.”
Sylus followed Luke to one of the many spare bedrooms, Valko trailing behind them, curiosity getting the better of him. MC stood outside the doors, pacing nervously covered in scratches, blood and bruises. Sylus carefully tipped her chin up, inspecting every inch to insure none of her injuries were severe.
“Who touched you?” Sylus’ voice was low, possessive.
“I went a day early…”
Sylus froze, his fingers stopping halfway through MC’s hair, their eyes locking. Valko leaned against the wall, realizing this was far more interesting than he thought it would be.
“Kitten…”
“Give me a lecture later. Before she bleeds out.”
MC turned pushing the doors open and stopped, Sylus bumping into her back. You spun around, your clothes still wet with blood, your hair coated in it as well, but you were standing.
“You’re the director of research for EVER,” Valko spoke up now standing in the doorway.
“Boss, she was almost dead when I came to get you,” Luke whispered.
MC pulled her weapon, but you didn’t flinch.
“I’ll pay for the damages to your bed and carpet, I’m sorry,” you managed to find your words.
Valko burst out laughing and even Sylus had to chuckle at your sincere statement.
“The director of EVER apologizing for bleeding all over the place…”
“You could barely breathe a minute ago,” MC spoke in disbelief.
“About that…How was she injured?” Sylus turned to MC again.
MC looked at you, but you were using the clean part of your dress shirt to keep your bloody hair from dripping on the carpet, though it was mostly dried now. Your tank top was half white half blood, but the design itself wasn’t bad. You had completely zoned out the conversation around you only to find the guy with pinkish hair sniffing the air around you.
“Valko?” Sylus spoke up.
Sylus was already backing up, MC now behind him, Luke retreating as well. Valko was emitting a low growl as he circled you, inhaling the air around you as if completing an odd courtship ritual. You found it almost adorable, but mostly you wanted to clean up. Then Valko jerked back and Sylus knew exactly what had happened in that moment.
Valko was focused on you and attempting to sniff around the blood, but even then, it was there. The scent of water lilies, fresh pine and HIS…Valko jerked back as if you’d smacked him the revelation surprising. Without a word Valko rushed out of the room.
“I’m pretty revolting…If I may be so bold, I really don’t want to ruin anymore of your property. May I take a shower to get the blood off?”
“Of course. I’ll have clothes brought to the room, but if you try to escape…”
“Escape? I took a bullet for your girlfriend and until I find out what the hell she was doing, I’m not going anywhere,” you responded.
Sylus gave his acknowledgement via a slight nod of his head before closing the doors.
“What the hell is going on?” MC whispered.
“We all need a drink. Luke bring clothes to our guest and keep an ear out. We still don’t know how she healed or if she truly healed.”
“Yes, boss…”
“Where’s Kieran?” MC asked.
“He went to get the doctor, but should I cancel that boss?”
“Yeah. For now.”
Valko was pacing the study, muttering to himself while his body willed him to return to you. The way his wolf whimpered for you was unsettling. Of course Valko understood what was happening, but it was surprising for him to find his mate this way.
“It happened fast. The guards were already there when I got to her office, but I can’t explain how or why. Not unless the current test she was running required extra security, but our insider didn’t have that info. All I know is she came out of the lab and took down three of the guards and then the reinforcements…Sy, she didn’t hesitate. She jumped in front of that bullet like she knew and then this black mist…Almost like your evol took the rest of the reinforcements out. I got her out of there…”
“Sweetie, sit down,” Sylus spoke gently before turning to Valko. “You good?”
Valko met Sylus’ gaze, steadying himself and nodding.
“Surprised me. I’m good now.”
Sylus wasn’t convinced but nodded before handing MC a drink and then downing his own. Valko ran a hand through his short hair before turning back to Sylus who was now examining the contents of his glass.
“She’s cleaning up and we can talk to her then,” Sylus offered.
“No. I need to speak to her first. Alone,” Valko growled.
“Why?” MC blurted.
Sylus chuckled softly, setting his glass down before moving to stand beside Valko, their shoulders barely brushing.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Sylus’ voice was low, but even.
Valko met his gaze understanding the question he wasn’t asking out loud.
“It’s the safest choice,” Valko responded.
“What the hell am I missing?” MC demanded standing up.
Valko looked back at the fireplace.
“Sweetie, Valko has identified our guest as his mate.”
“Mate? Are you kidding? We don’t even know if she can be trusted! And you can’t just force it.”
Valko spun to put MC in her place, but Sylus’ hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed.
“Sweetie, this does NOT concern us.”
You were shaking so badly you could barely grasp the shower handle to start the water. A knock on the door made you jump, but thankfully no one could see so you calmed yourself.
“Miss, the clothes are on the dresser top,” Luke’s voice came through the door.
“Thank you.”
“If you need anything else I will be outside the main doors.”
“Okay.”
You waited until you heard the doors shut and then you leaned against the door, crying quietly. Your entire body was shaking violently, but not from the tears. The wound on your abdomen had been fully healed, but only at the risk of your wolf. And now…Now your mate appeared and everything was happening so fast, your wolf was whining and whimpering for him.
“I’m right here…I promise I won’t leave,” Valko’s voice came from the other side of the door suddenly.
“Go away, please…I can’t accept this right now…”
Valko’s hands were pressed against the door along with his forehead as he debated listening to you or his own wolf.
“That’s okay. But I want to stay here, please.”
“Fine,” you mumbled, but the shaking had subsided and you could finally turn the water on.
Valko turned, leaning his back against the door once he felt your distance. Knees up, he glanced around the room and then smiled.
The water felt amazing against your skin, the blood and grime swirling around the drain before disappearing. You gently scratched your scalp to get the matted blood out, closing your eyes as you rinsed the shampoo out. Once wrapped up in the super large, luxurious towel you realized your mate was between you and the clothes Luke had brought, but you at least had your bra and underwear. You knew there was no way to escape this, and your wolf perked up at the thought of meeting her mate. Your mate. You took a deep breath and opened the door.
Valko was rubbing his face all over the clothes Luke had brought when he realized you were staring from the doorway. A sheepish grin accompanied by a light blush graced his gorgeous features. Then you burst out laughing, the absurdity of this entire situation couldn’t be ignored any longer.
“Not what it looks like,” Valko offered, his lopsided grin giving away that there was no real shame for what he was doing.
“Oh? Because it looks like your scenting clothes when you should be scenting me,” you teased, laughing harder when his eyes widened.
“If you’re teasing you should tell me…Now.”
The tension in the room was due to your wolves demanding they be claimed, but the human part was playing some stupid game at being polite. Yet even the wolves seemed to calm at the obvious acceptance falling on their human counterparts.
“Teasing, yes. But I also want you to,” you admitted shyly while your wolf laughed at your ridiculous human behavior.
Valko wanted nothing more than to make you his, but not here. Not in another man’s den. The best he could do for now was scent you and make sure everyone else knew who you belonged to…Who HE belonged to.
Valko’s hand cupped your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into the warmth of his hand closing your eyes and sighing softly. Valko took a step closer, his heart caught in his throat when your eyes met his and you kissed his palm. Valko moved slowly around you, his nose and mouth nuzzling every part of your neck, shoulders and collarbone before he stood directly behind you. Valko lifted the hair off the back of your neck and placed his lips against the skin there. Your entire body shivered while heating up at the same time. Valko’s arm slid around the front of your body, pulling you against him tightly.
“Okay, we need to…”
MC burst through the doors, freezing in place when she saw the way Valko was holding you. Sylus stepped in front of her closing the doors and smirking when he looked down at her.
“We should let them finish,” Sylus gently led her away from the doors.
“They’re about to have sex,” MC whispered surprised.
“No. He is simply scenting her…How much do you actually know about wolves, sweetie?”
“Apparently not enough,” MC shook her head in disbelief.
Valko released a continuous hum as you scented him, his shirt collar open as your soft lips littered kisses along his neck and chest. When you returned to his adam’s apple and nipped it gently, Valko’s eyes snapped open locking with yours as a low growl escaped him.
“You’re on the edge, pup. Be very careful or I might just mark you…”
You let out a snort before returning to kiss his collarbones, your body straddling his on the bed. Valko’s large hand was splayed against your lower back to keep you steady, but then you let your canines sharpen before sinking into his left pectoral. Valko’s hand dropped from your back as his eyes rolled back into his head a low whimper/whine escaping him. Before you completely pulled back you were flipped over, Valko’s eyes glowing with desire and excitement. You closed your eyes waiting to feel his canines pierce your flesh. Instead, you felt the air hit your body as Valko removed the towel, searching for your wound, needing to know you were healed. Valko nuzzled the barely visible scar on the lower left of your abdomen, a tiny whimper escaping him.
“Valko…I should get dressed.”
“Sure, pup,” Valko smiled before he found the soft flesh of your inner right thigh and sank his canines deep.
Your body arched up, a whimper escaping your lips before he pulled you up against his chest, his forehead touching yours. Both of you were breathing heavily now and the tension was palpable.
“Val…”
Valko nudged your nose with his until you finally met his gaze.
“I like teal.”
You laughed softly knowing he was referring to your matching teal bra and panty set, though most of the panties were covered in dried blood now.
Sylus was swirling the amber liquid in his glass while MC paced the study. The doors opened and you wore the black slacks and black t-shirt Luke had left. Valko was glued to your side, a lopsided grin plastered on his handsome features.
“I was sent by my wolf pack to infiltrate EVER after they’d taken more than three dozen of us to experiment on. I didn’t save you, my wolf did. Somehow, she knew you would bring me to my mate. I’m not your enemy and I think we can bring EVER down together.”
“Sounds good,” Sylus spoke before downing his drink.
For the Valko requests, I would love to see some cute family fluff between MC, Valko, his cousins, grandma, and his sister (I think he had a sister in his lore, correct me if I am wrong), because I want to see how MC would get along with Valko's family. 🐺
𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄
synopsis: when valko brings you home for the first time, he warns you about everything: his grandmother’s food, his sister’s stare, his cousin’s stories, the family jokes that always cut too close. he forgets to warn you that love in his house is not gentle or quiet, but loud, practical, mercilessly observant, and served warm at the kitchen table.
cw/tw: valko x reader. very soft domestic fluff. light family teasing.
read here: ao3 ⋅ tumblr
Valko lost his nerve three steps from the door.
It was a small death, but you saw it happen; the brave lift of his chin, the twitch in his jaw, the small, tragic collapse of his entire face when a crash came from inside the house.
His hand tightened around yours.
“Dobro,” he said.
Another crash.
From inside, and older woman called, “If that's my good plate, I will put someone in the ground before supper.”
Valko closed his eyes. You turned toward him.
He opened one eyes. “She loves plates.”
“More than people?”
“Depends on the people.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and relief moved through him all at once, softening his shoulders, loosening the frightened line of his mouth. He'd been nervous all morning. Badly nervous. Valko, who could grin with blood on his teeth and make danger look like a door he'd simply forgotten to knock on, had spent the whole walk here giving you warnings no sane person could have prepared for.
Do not let Mika read your palm. He makes things up and then believes them.
Do not compliment Baba's curtains unless you want curtains.
Do not say you're full.
And, most importantly, if anyone mentions the soup incident, Valko had said, grave as a condemned man, they're lying.
You had asked what the soup incident was.
He had started to walk faster.
Now he stood before the old wooden door with your fingers caught in his, trying to look calm and producing, somehow, the exact expression of a wolf about to be bathed.
“Valko,” you said softly.
“Yes?”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm not shaking.”
“You are.”
“I’m containing myself.”
“From what?”
“Hereditary embarrassment.”
The door flew open.
A girl about his age stood on the other side, dark-eyed and grinning, with flour on her cheek and murder in her posture. She took one look at Valko’s hand around yours, then lifted her gaze to his face with the slow delight of someone finding a knife exactly where she had hoped one would be.
A slow smile cut across her face.
“Oh,” she smirked. “So this is why you changed your shirt twice.”
Valko made a sound. Small, wounded, entirely unlike a wolf.
“I changed once.”
“You changed twice. The first shirt was the blue one. The second was the one that made you look like you were going to court. This...This is the third.”
His ears went red.
The woman held out her hand to you. “Milena. His sister.”
“Unfortunately,” Valko added.
“Fortunately. Without me, you'd still think soap is optional in winter.”
“It isn't optional.”
“Because of me.”
You took Milena's hand. Her grip was warm, firm, and full of judgement she hadn't yet decided to use.
Behind her, the house breathed out heat. Bread, onions, some in old wood, something sweet cooling on a counter. There were voices everywhere, layered and crossing. One person laughing while another complained, a child humming under a table, chairs scraping, a kettle whistling like a bird losing patience.
Milena stepped aside. “Come in before Baba starts saying we were raised by wolves.”
Valko muttered, “We were.”
She looked at him. “And still, some of us learned manners.”
You crossed the threshold. The house was smaller than the noise made it seem, or maybe the noise had simply learned to fill every corner. Framed photographs climbed the walls in crooked rows. Herbs hung drying above the kitchen window. Nothing matched, and yet everything looked touched, mended, argued over... kept.
Valko leaned close as he helped you out of your coat.
“Last chance,” he whispered. “We can run.”
You looked past him to where an old woman stood near the stove, hands folded over her apron, watching you with bright, wolfish eyes.
“Too late,” you whispered back. “I think she heard you.”
“I hear everything,” the old woman said.
Valko went still.
Milena smiled into her shoulder.
The old woman crossed the kitchen with the slow authority of someone who had ruled this house before any of them had teeth. She was small, broad in the shoulders, silver-haired, with flour on her wrist and no softness wasted in her face. The softness, you realised, was elsewhere. In the bread covered by a towel, in the chair pulled out before you reached it, in the way Valko lowered his head without being asked when she came close.
“Baba,” he said, and for the first time that day, his voice lost its jokes.
She, of course, ignored him.
Instead, she took your face between both hands.
Her palms smelled of rosemary, yeast, and soap. Her thumbs rested beneath your cheekbones, and for one strange second the whole house seemed to lean closer. The cousins, the kettle, the old boards, even Valko, holding his breath beside you.
“So,” Baba Vesna said. “You are the reason he forgets to eat.”
“I eat,” Valko protested.
Teta Marika appeared by the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “You came here last week, opened the pantry, stared at a sack of potatoes for six minutes, then said, ‘I wonder what she’s doing.’”
“That was taken out of context.”
“What was the context?” you asked, because love had made you brave and terrible.
Valko looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
A boy leaning backwards on his chair nearly lost balance from laughing, another cousin caught the chair by its back without looking up from peeling an apple.
Baba Vesna patted your cheek once and released you. “Sit, dušo. Eat something before my family embarrass me properly.”
Valko gave a strangled laugh. “Before?”
No one listened to him.
You were placed at the long wooden table as if the decision had been made before you arrived. A bowl appeared, then bread, then butter, then a small plate of pickled vegetables. Teta Marika, Valko's aunt, kissed the air beside your cheeks and took the small gift you had brought. Mika announced that he already knew your favourite colour from Valko’s face. Luka told him that was the stupidest sentence ever spoken in the kitchen, which Mika accepted as praise. The little one beneath the table emerged, solemn and bread-dusted, and introduced himself as Niko.
“Are you going to marry him?” Niko asked.
Valko walked directly into the side of a chair.
The whole kitchen paused. You pressed your lips together.
Milena leaned against the doorway, radiant with cruelty. “Careful, Niko. Val only has two knees.”
“Niko,” Teta Marika turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “We ask guests if they want juice first.”
Niko nodded, absorbing this etiquette with grave importance. “Do you want juice before you marry him?”
Valko covered his face with both hands. You bit down on your smile so hard it almost hurt. This wasn't what you had expected.
Some foolish, frightened part of you had imagined a den in the old sense. Teeth, watchful eyes, a family arranged around blood and law, waiting to decide whether your bones could be allowed near theirs. Valko had never spoken of them casually. Whenever he said home, something tender and embarrassed moved through him, as though the word itself had fingers and knew exactly where to touch.
Now you sat beneath a crooked lamp while his grandmother tore bread with her hands and put the first piece on your plate.
“Eat,” Baba Vesna said.
You obeyed.
The bread was warm enough to steam between your fingers. The crust cracked softly, butter melted into it in golden lines. Across the table, Valko watched you take the first bite as if your mouth held judgment from heaven.
You chewed. Swallowed.
“It’s delicious.”
Baba Vesna clicked her tongue. “Of course it is wonderful. I made it.”
Mika leaned towards you. “He talked about you after the market yesterday.”
Valko’s hand hit the table. “No.”
“Yes, you did” Luka said sticking his tongue out.
“No.”
“You said, and I quote, 'she chooses fruit with such care'.”
The table went quiet for half a breath, your hand stilled around the bread. Valko looked at Luka as if betrayal had entered the room wearing his cousin’s face.
“That was private.”
“You said it in the kitchen.”
“That makes it private.”
Milena sat across from you and rested her chin in her hand. “He also said you have kind hands.”
Valko’s mouth opened, nothing came out. Your heart did something foolish inside your chest.
The teasing had worked him bright and flustered, but beneath it, something softer trembled. He was embarrassed, yes. Horribly, so. Beautifully, so. Yet the thing underneath was more dangerous than shame. This was exposure. A curtain pulled open in a room he had spent so long keeping dim.
He had spoken of you here.
At this table. In this warm, loud house. To these people who teased him because they knew what he looked like with no armour on. He had brought you home long before he ever brought your body through the door.
Baba Vesna filled your bowl with soup.
“He was always like this,” she said.
“Baba, please.”
“He was a strange child,” she said.
Valko groaned. “Please.”
“A sweet child,” Teta Marika corrected.
“A dramatic child,” Luka said.
“A biting child,” Milena added.
Valko pointed at her. “You bit first.”
“You looked biteable.”
“You see what I mean?” Valko turned to you with helpless outrage. “This is what I survived.”
There was love in it, the kind that had been cooked too long and reduced into something strong enough to stain. They spoke to him as if they had known every version of him and chosen, again and again, to keep putting food in front of whichever one came home.
You looked at him while he argued with Mika about whether a stolen spoon counted as a childhood trauma.
He caught you looking. For a moment, the noise thinned.
There he was.
Valko with his hair refusing every law of decency. Valko trying so hard to survive his own family and failing beautifully. His eyes met yours with a nervous brightness that made you want to reach across the table and be cruel to every fear that had ever found him.
Then Niko pointed his spoon at you.
“Are you keeping him?”
The kitchen stopped.
Valko made a tiny sound into his bowl.
Milena closed her eyes as if praying for patience and finding none. “Niko.”
“What? Mika said maybe she is keeping him.”
His gaze dropped to the table, to the bread by his hand, to the small old cuts in the wood. The blush still clung to him, but it had changed into something quieter now. Hope, perhaps. Or terror wearing hope’s coat.
You could have laughed. Everyone would have let you. It would have been easy to throw the question back into the room like a toy and watch them tear it apart.
Instead, beneath the table, you found Valko’s hand.
His fingers closed around yours at once.
“I’d like to,” you said.
The house held itself still for half a breath.
Then Baba Vesna nodded, once, as if some old contract had been signed in soup and honey.
“Good,” she said. “He is difficult, but warm.”
Valko bowed his head.
His shoulders shook.
At first you thought he was upset. Then you realised he was laughing, quietly, helplessly, with one hand over his mouth and the other holding yours under the table like he meant to keep it there until winter.
Mika groaned. “Ah, look at him. Finished. Completely finished.”
Milena reached for the pickles. “Good. He needed finishing.”
Teta Marika smiled into her tea. “Eat more, zlato. You will need strength.”
“For Valko?” you asked.
“For all of us.”
Dinner became less a meal than a storm with chairs.
Bowls moved, hands reached, stories climbed over one another and died unfinished because someone remembered a better accusation. Luka asked you practical questions in a calm voice: where you liked to walk, whether Valko had shown you the old river path, whether he still pretended not to like sweet things. Mika tried to read your palm and declared that you were fated to own a troublesome dog.
“That's just Valko,” Milena said.
“I am not a dog.”
“True,” Luka said. “Dogs listen.”
Valko began quietly placing the best pieces of food on your plate.
A soft carrot, the inside of the bread, a dumpling he pretended to move away from himself and somehow abandoned beside your spoon. He was not subtle. He had never been subtle. He was a wolf trying to hide a whole deer behind a napkin.
You noticed on the fourth offering.
His family noticed on the first.
Baba Vesna said nothing until Valko tried to give you the last honey cake. Then she leaned back in her chair and looked at him over her tea.
“Ah,” she said.
Valko froze.
It was one syllable. It landed like a bell.
“What?” he said.
“No, no.” She waved him off. “Continue. Starve for romance. Very noble.”
Mika threw his head back.
You picked up the honey cake before Valko could die at the table and broke it in two, placing half on his plate. “There,” you said. “No starving.”
He looked at the cake.
Then he looked at you.
His expression opened in a way that made the room, somehow, feel too small for your heart. It opened with that unguarded, bewildered softness he sometimes gave you when kindness arrived before he had prepared himself to receive it.
Milena saw it.
Her teasing quieted.
For a moment, she only watched him with something old and protective in her face.
Then she stood. “Come help me with plates.”
Valko blinked. “Me?”
“Her.” Milena pointed at you.
Valko frowned. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That's not a reason.”
“It has worked on you for years.”
You rose before he could protest again. Milena took two plates from the table and handed you none of them, which told you at once that this had nothing to do with helping.
She led you down a narrow hallway lined with photographs.
Behind you, Valko’s voice rose. “Do not interrogate her.”
The hallway smelled faintly of beeswax and dried herbs. The noise of the kitchen softened behind you, still there, still golden, but now wrapped in walls. Milena stopped by a window overlooking the yard and leaned her hip against the sill.
For the first time all evening, she let the smile leave her face.
“He likes you,” she said.
You smiled gently. “I got that impression.”
“No.” Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen. “He likes people easily. He likes old men who tell bad stories, stray cats that scratch him, children who throw rocks at windows because they want attention. Valko is built stupid that way.”
A laugh escaped you.
Milena folded her arms.
“He brings things home,” she continued. “Broken things, angry things. Things he thinks no one else will be gentle with.” Her gaze moved towards the kitchen, where Valko’s voice lifted in protest. “He does not bring people home.”
Your throat tightened.
From the kitchen, Valko shouted, “It wasn't soup. It was stew.”
Mika shouted back, “Stew cannot make a grown man cry.”
“I was overwhelmed by flavour.”
Milena closed her eyes for one second. “Bože, give me strength.”
You laughed softly.
She looked at you again, sharper now.
“He was nervous all week,” she said. “Changed his shirt three times. Asked me if the house smelled too much like onions. Asked Luka if his laugh was strange. Asked Baba if she could please not tell the story about the goat.”
“The goat?”
“Later.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Maybe never.”
You glanced back towards the kitchen.
He had asked if his laugh was strange.
Something in you ached with such tenderness that it almost felt like anger.
You looked down.
“He didn’t need to worry,”
“He is clumsy with precious things,” she said. “Because he thinks his hands are only good for breaking them, even when he is careful. Especially then.”
“So be kind,” she said. “Or be cruel quickly. He will survive either, but I prefer to know which one I’m dealing with.”
There it was.
The knife under the table. The love with its teeth intact. You didn't resent her for it, you thought, strangely, that you liked her more for it.
“I’m not here to hurt him,”
“Most people aren’t, at first.”
“Milena.”
Milena’s gaze narrowed.
“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” you admitted.
“With any of this,” you continued. “He makes everything feel…” You searched for the word and hated every pretty one that came. Fated. Wild. Tender. All too polished for the mess he made of your heart. “He makes everything feel like I’ve been walking past a door my whole life, and he is the idiot who opened it with his shoulder.”
Milena stared at you.
Then she laughed once, sharp and startled.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re gone too.”
You looked down, caught.
She seemed satisfied. “Good.”
“Is that approval?”
“That is me deciding not to be difficult.”
“You were being difficult?”
“Dušo,” she said, and now her smile had teeth in it, “I was being polite.”
When you returned to the kitchen, Valko was waiting near the doorway as if he had tried to remain seated and failed.
His eyes moved from you to Milena. “What did you say to her?”
Milena walked past him. “That you were adopted.”
“I’m not.”
“Emotionally, you're a wet dog we found in the rain.”
He watched her go, wounded on principle, then turned to you with genuine concern. “What did she actually say?”
You reached up and brushed flour from his sleeve. “That you’re warm.”
“That was Baba.”
“Family consensus.”
His mouth twitched. “You are enjoying this.”
“I am.”
“You were supposed to be intimidated.”
“By Mika?”
“By the bloodline. The history. The general atmosphere of teeth.”
“Mika told me my palm says I’ll own a dog.”
Valko sighed.
You reached up and plucked the dish towel from his shoulder. “You have flour on your sleeve.”
He looked down, surprised, as if his own body had been making decisions without him. Then he looked back at you, and the kitchen noise faded once more, though this time it was only the two of you making the world small.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
The question was casual enough for anyone else to miss the tremor underneath. You heard it. The naked, waiting part. You thought of his hand shaking outside the door. Baba Vesna taking your face between her palms, of bread steaming in your fingers, of honey cake divided in two, of Milena saying he doesn't bring people home.
“I’m all right,” you said. “Are you?”
Valko smiled too quickly. “I’m alive.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
His smile softened.
For once, he did not joke immediately. It cost him something. You could see it in the way his fingers flexed at his side, reaching for mischief and finding courage instead.
“I wanted them to like you,” he said. “I wanted you to like them.”
“I do”
“I wanted…” He stopped, then laughed under his breath. “I don’t know. Something stupid.”
He looked towards the kitchen, where his family had resumed their noise without mercy. Mika was accusing Luka of stealing the larger piece of cake. Baba Vesna had taken down a tin from the highest shelf, probably containing either biscuits or secrets.
“Valko, stop hiding her. I have photographs.”
Horror returned to his face with magnificent speed.
“No.”
“Yes,”
“No photographs.”
“Naked baby photos,” Mika added.
Valko went pale. “You do not have those.”
Teta Marika’s voice drifted after him, serene and deadly. “We have everything.”
He grabbed your hand. “We’re leaving.”
You let him pull you three steps before Baba Vesna appeared in the doorway holding a small album to her chest.
“Sit,” she said.
Valko sat.
It was remarkable how quickly a wolf could become a grandson.
For the next hour, they showed you the evidence of his life.
Valko missing two front teeth and glaring at the camera as though betrayed by dentistry. Valko asleep under the table with one hand buried in a dog’s fur. Valko at thirteen, all elbows and outrage, holding a fish half his size while crying because he had to put it back.
There was Valko covered in mud, Valko wearing a paper crown, Valko with Milena’s arm hooked around his neck while he pretended to hate her and leaned into her anyway. Valko standing beside Baba Vesna in the garden, holding a basket of tomatoes like he had been entrusted with the fate of nations.
Each photograph was another small door.
You had known him in pieces: the grin, the hunger, the awkward tenderness, the jokes he threw like branches over deep water. Here was the rest of him. Here was the child who had survived becoming himself because these hands had fed him, scolded him, dragged him upright, and remembered his softness when he tried to outgrow it.
At some point, while everyone argued over whether the goat incident happened before or after the soup incident, Valko bent close to you.
“You don’t have to keep looking,” he murmured.
You turned a page.
A tiny Valko stared up from the album, holding a wooden spoon like a sword.
“Yes,” you said. “I do.”
He stared at you.
Then, very briefly, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.
It lasted only a second. A shy, exhausted surrender. No one commented on it, though you knew every person in the room saw. That seemed to be another house rule. They would mock the wound, yes, but they protected the pulse.
Later, when the cups were cleared and the album returned to its shelf of holy embarrassments, you stepped outside for air.
The yard was cold, dark and soft around the edges. Herbs grew beneath the window, yhe old trees leaned towards the house as if listening. Behind you, the kitchen glowed gold, laughter pressing against the glass.
Valko followed after a moment, closing the door carefully behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
You looked at him. “For what?”'
“The interrogation. The photographs. Mika. The marriage question. The soup litigation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Milena.”
“I like Milena.”
“That means she behaved.”
“She said she was being polite.”
He winced. “Then she liked you.”
You leaned back against the porch railing, and he stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets, rocking once on his heels like he wanted to come closer and had forgotten the law of his own body.
Through the window, you could see Baba Vesna pretending to wipe the table while watching you both with shameless interest. You lifted a hand and waved.
She waved back.
Valko turned, saw her, and groaned. “For the love of...Baba.”
“She loves you.”
“That's her usual excuse for crimes.”
“It’s a good one.”
He looked back at you, and the teasing left him slowly, piece by piece. Out here, with the house at his back, he seemed caught between the wild thing and the loved thing. The wolf and the boy in the paper crown. The man who had brought you to the threshold with shaking hands and still tried to joke like fear could be made harmless if he gave it a funny name.
“Did you mean it?” he asked.
“Which part?”
“When Niko asked if you were keeping me.”
The question came lightly, too lightly. A feather laid over a blade.
You reached for him.
This time, Valko did not hesitate. He came into your space at once, as if pulled by a string tied somewhere behind his ribs. His hands settled at your waist, careful at first, then warmer when you didn't move away.
“I meant it,”
His eyes searched yours.
“For tonight?”
“For longer than that.”
He didn't kiss you immediately. Somehow, that made it worse. He stood there and let the answer enter him, slowly, like someone opening the door to a room he had been told was empty and finding it lit.
Inside, Mika yelled, “Are they kissing?”
Valko dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
“Leave them. He is finally being normal.”
You laughed.
He looked at you then, and the last of his embarrassment broke open into something bright, something almost boyish
“Welcome home,” he said, very softly.
You touched his cheek.
Behind him, the old house breathed and creaked and held its golden noise. Inside, his family waited with tea, teeth, stories, and a place at the table already made yours.
As someone who’s been consistently playing the game since its release, I immediately deleted it when I saw the cancellation news this morning.
Global fan feedback or general interaction just does not matter to this company at all, and it’s made obvious by how they prioritize their Chinese customers over anything else given the fact that due to massive hate towards Valko resulted in a full on cancellation of a character that had been in the works for YEARS and hard launched heavily among their platforms a week before being released. Myself and other global fans were excited for him amidst the unnecessary hate train, but were left SEVERELY DISAPPOINTED by this weird turn of events.
Some of the reviews claimed that Valko was being used to promote the ‘mistreatment of women’ simply because he enters through MC’s window and other small things towards (I assume) the beginning of their love story, yet when Sylus KIDNAPPED MC, FORCED her to resonate with him and used his evol to CHOKE her, when Caleb is unhealthy obsessed with her in this weird, pseudo-cest dynamic and even occasionally calls her his “little sister”, says he wants to lock her up so that she’ll continue to need him, and DRUGS her, when Zayne is her DOCTOR which poses a huge power imbalance and morally inappropriate foundation for a relationship, when Rafayel almost lets her drown until she unintentionally uses the bond they share to save her, among several other instances of the love interests being unhinged and generally not ideal, the CLIMBING THROUGH A WINDOW is what does Chinese fans in? That other stuff is all okay?
Climbing a window is the hard line?
Global fans put up with a lot of disregarded issues from INFOLD: Incomplete storylines, fucked up lighting for MC’s darker than a sheet of paper and lack of POC hair options because of China’s racist/colorist ideology, way too many and expensive pay-to-progress micro transactions, and much more, so them presenting their omega sex as they bend over for their alpha CN fans is nothing new, but THIS?? This just genuinely makes me confused as to why they released this game globally if they were just going to be complicit to one demographic in the first place. They ran themselves into the ground the last few years because of general lack of interest in their global audience, and I have a feeling that LADS will no longer be able to stay afloat.
