I love your writinnggg and I've wanted to ask, what you think of dust!sans and reader who's always leaving a mark on him, a sticker on his head, perfume on his jacket, lipstick stains etc. And how others of the gang would react to it
Much lovvevee :]
hello hello hello! thank you for this delightful wish! i love dust a normal amount, (i say, before a sign appears above my head saying 'liar!') thank you for requesting him, and i hope these headcanons can brighten your day!
DUSTTALE!Sans/Reader
at first, he hardly even notices. he’s never really checked himself out in the mirror for an extended period of time, (perhaps for fear of not recognizing the monster he would see,) and so he really only finds the occasional whisper of you in the form of a blue star sticker or a sticky note on his shoulder. sure, he finds himself having a better day when the scent of your perfume is clinging to his hood, and yeah, he does light up a little bit when he finds a cute sticker on the back of his skull, but he never really connects it to marking him…
the rest of the boys though. they notice.
bear, with his sensitivity to scent, catches the perfume on his jacket, and congratulates dust on his bump from boyfriend to mate.
dust has no clue what he’s talking about until bear points out that dust has been absolutely smothered in the smell of your perfume – a monster tactic for leaving a claim on someone, – and dust finally realizes that he’s been feeling pretty good today because he’s been huffing your scent for hours. (he does that as a pick-me-up all the time with your laundry, but this is different.)
he pays more attention to how his jackets smell after that. whenever he finds one you’ve hit recently, he gets this soft, subtle smile, and his eyelights go dark with contentment. (like a cat slow blinking… except you can never actually see his eyes under his hood so you just see his eyelights flicker out…)
it’s killer that catches the lipstick. he keeps looking at dust and giggling to himself, and eventually, dust can’t help but press about what’s so funny – and killer finally asks if he’s look at his jacket yet.
he had not. there, just peaking from the inside of his hood, is an artful lipstick stain. there’s no way it wasn’t intentional; it’s practically a heart, set and unsmudged, like you had held the fabric to your lips before hanging it back up –
he can’t even really pay attention to killer’s relentless teasing about it, too caught up in ghosting his gloves over your little gift. the lipstick is so set that it doesn’t even smudge, and he he’s so high on cloud nine about it that he only beats killer’s ass a little bit when he doesn’t let up after ten minutes of jesting.
he starts enjoying looking in the mirror, trying to find different traces of you… he doesn’t feel so awful when he’s wearing your love…
summary . . . chief leon kennedy has a crush on the temporary receptionist of rpd. the receptionist in question is his wife, and he has made it everyone’s problem.
notes. 🎤 this just in… shikiyomizu writes another fic where leon kennedy is obsessed with his wife !! got this idea while i was driving to work today, also :( thank you guys we hit 400 followers the other day 🫶 y’all are the best
tags ──────── fluff, re9 leon kennedy x wife!reader. au, no zombie break out. takes place in raccoon city. leon’s doing everything but working. word count: 1.2k words
The receptionist of RPD was six months pregnant with her first child. Getting closer to her due date, she put in her time off. Once she got to eight months, she would be gone to prepare herself and stay out on maternity leave. That gave the station at most a month to find a temporary receptionist.
Chief Kennedy quickly found a solution. After you heard he told you about their receptionist during dinner, you offered to fill in the position while she was away. You didn’t work, the officers knew you since you’d come and visit Leon at the station on occasions.
The more experienced officers were more familiar with you and still remembered the day you both met.
Leon was late on his first day of work. Not a good look for an optimistic rookie. Then, he got thrown into traffic duty with Lieutenant Marvin Branagh, and had to write up a ticket to a girl they pulled over who was his type. He swore that someone didn’t want him to succeed as a police officer.
That’s right, you were the first person Leon ever gave a ticket to. But it made for a cute story, and the outcome was a marriage of 24 years.
When he proposed the idea, everyone quickly agreed. No officer would have to fill the position, they wouldn’t have to wait for an applicant, and they could trust you would get the job done correctly. Now what they didn’t imagine happening is the Chief of police suddenly not knowing how to behave.
The first few weeks, Leon checked up on you to make sure everything was going smoothly while you were being trained. You adjusted rather quickly. He’d stay by the desk, flirt with you for a couple minutes, and return to his office.
Then the following months, the visits became more frequent. He’d start dropping by multiple times throughout the day, and stayed longer than he was supposed to. He loved having you working at the station. He could see you and talk to you any time he wanted.
And although it was sweet, it threw off the function of the second floor where the officers really needed him to be. They took matters into their own hands and limited him to one daily visit.
That ended up backfiring as soon as the rule was implemented. They saw him heading downstairs, and made a note he was taking his daily visit. So, they minded their business and went back to working.
Hours passed, someone was on the phone to speak with him. The officer tried to ring him, but he wasn’t picking up. Unusual for him. She stood up from her desk and quickly rushed to his office, just to not see Leon there at all.
The man had the entire floor looking for him because the call was important. The bathroom, the library, the archive room, the weapons room. They were practically seething when they found him sitting behind the receptionist desk with you.
All he said was, “You said one visit, not that I had to come back.”
They didn’t blame you since you were actually getting your work done.
They were honestly debating whether or not they should enforce the whole no dating in the workplace rule again. But it didn’t make sense considering you two were married and so were Captains Chris and Jill Redfield of S.T.A.R.S.
So they found the only other solution.
The following work week, Leon got banned from the first floor.
He took it to the heart. He watched you from the second floor like some Victorian yearner until he got sent back to his office by one of his lieutenants.
He tried to sneak past them on several occasions. Sometimes it worked. Other times?
“Chief! Don’t you go down those stairs!”
Leon huffed. He was so close this time. He’d made it halfway down. He glared at the officer standing at the top of stairs. You were at the reception desk, going through mail the station received. He wanted to use the excuse that he was going to pick something up, but they’d just say they would bring it to him. He reluctantly turned around and went right back up.
He passed the sign holder by the stairs made for him that said, “Lunch is at 1PM. Shift ends at 6PM.”
It got bad enough that they assigned someone to keep an eye on him.
The new rookie that joined was so confused why they told him not to allow Chief Kennedy on the first floor under any circumstances besides lunchtime and when it was time to go. Plus, they didn’t even go into detail as to why the Chief was banned from the first floor. They said it so ominously, as if the world would end if he made it down there.
Technically, it was an easy task. His office door was always shut, no matter what. If it ever opened, the loud creaking would alert the rookie and he’d tell his superior the first floor was off limits.
Today, Leon opened his office door cautiously. His officers were overwhelmed at their desks, especially the rookie who was stuck babysitting him. Paperwork was due at the end of the week. Everyone was trying to get it done so they wouldn’t have to stay late on a Friday night.
Perfect. He slipped out unnoticed. He left the door at a crack. If he closed it now, it might catch their attention and he refused to lose this golden opportunity. He kept his body against the wall, heading in the direction of the stairs.
You were making copies of forms. While the printer did the task for you, you swiveled your chair to the computer again to check on an email. Just as you were doing that, there came your husband rushing down the stairs. Leon made it to the bottom step and walked across the lobby towards the reception desk.
Oh great. What was he planning now? Your hand hovered over the phone, ready to call one of the lieutenants. But you didn’t since your husband wasn’t staring directly at you, rather the staircase on your right. He dug his hand in the pocket of his pants and pulled out a slip of paper.
Leon carefully slid it across the counter, and continued walking without looking at you.
The paper was folded in half. You raised a brow. He was probably asking you to meet him in the filing room again. You grabbed the paper and opened it.
“What the…” You muttered.
Do you like me?
Two options. One box said yes, and the other box said yes. You furrowed your brows.
You looked to your right. Leon was leaning against the stair railing. He drew a heart in the air with his pointer fingers and then winked at you. Your eyes followed as he went up to the second floor.
Reminder: File a complaint.
You clicked your pen. Underneath the two boxes, you drew a third one. Right beside it you wrote, “No”, and checked it.
“Is he here?” You glanced up. The rookie was out of air after running down a flight of stairs. Poor boy was carrying the fate of the world on his shoulders and he refused to let it end. That or he thought he might get fired for not keeping Chief Kennedy in check.
“Honey, don’t worry. He’s upstairs. Besides, the only place he’s getting in trouble is at home.” You said. That helped ease his worries a bit. You folded the slip of paper again and held it out to the rookie, “Do me a favor. Can you give this to him when you see him?”
Could I request anyone one of the Saja Boys (whom you think fits well with this prompt): One of the boys showing reader (their girlfriend) their true form for the first time, and despite expecting reader to run away in fear, she’s actually quite excited by this new revelation, because you know, their boyfriend is a hot demon!! And while reader is practically jumping up and down in excitement, the demon just stares at her for a moment before kissing her with absolute desperation and love before taking her to bed to ruin her ;D
Change
Honestly I couldn't decide which boy should I write so.... I wrote all of them :')
Pairings: Saja boys x Fem!Reader
Tags:@bypanana, @heartmew, @healmydesires
*
ABBY
He hadn’t meant for you to see. The plan was to tell you—softly, eventually—once he figured out how to explain centuries of fire and darkness without sounding like a walking warning label. But things went sideways tonight. The glamor slipped just a moment too long.
And now?
Now he stood at the far end of your bedroom, breathing hard, eyes glowing molten gold beneath his furrowed brow, his broad chest heaving as his true form rippled across his skin.
His bluish-grey flesh shimmered in the low light, muscles carved in unnatural symmetry. Stripes of deep violet ran like warpaint along his arms and down the edges of his ribs. His hands—clawed, sharp and dangerous—hung at his sides, curled in tight fists like he was preparing to bolt.
But his eyes…
His eyes were fixed on you.
Waiting.
Waiting for the scream.
The flinch.
The step backward.
The confirmation of every fear he had buried under cocky smiles and flexed bravado. But you didn’t run. You didn’t flinch.
You took a step forward—then another—eyes wide with something that absolutely wasn’t fear.
“Abby…” you breathed, your mouth parting in awe. “You didn’t tell me you were this hot.”
His jaw dropped. Just slightly.
You beamed at him.
“Oh my god—those stripes? Are you kidding? You look like a warrior god. And those eyes—holy hell.”
“You’re…” he blinked. “You’re not scared.”
“Scared?” you laughed—laughed. “Baby, I want to lick one of those stripes.”
His breath caught.
And then, everything snapped.
Abby moved, crossing the room in an instant, grabbing your face in both clawed hands—careful, but desperate—and kissed you like he’d been holding back for centuries.
It wasn’t soft.
It was hungry. Open-mouthed and frantic and full of every emotion he’d tried to suppress since he first realized you were becoming his whole world. He kissed you like you were the only lifeline he had left. Like he didn’t deserve you, but he was going to worship you anyway.
“You should’ve run,” he rasped against your lips.
“I should’ve jumped you weeks ago,” you whispered back, your nails already curling around the muscles of his bare shoulders.
A sound tore from his throat—half growl, half groan—and then he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed with supernatural strength and careful reverence, like you were both fragile and sacred.
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he said as he lowered you onto the mattress, golden eyes glowing brighter now, the tips of his claws teasing the hem of your shirt. “You’re gonna beg for mercy tonight, sweetheart.”
You grinned, heart pounding. “Then ruin me already.”
And he did.
He worshipped you like a man finally allowed to breathe. Marked your skin with gentle bites—carefully, reverently—along your neck, your collarbone, your thighs. His voice was a steady stream of low, filthy praise between kisses, his claws ghosting over your skin in maddening patterns.
And through it all, the one thing you could never forget—
The way he looked at you.
Like you weren’t afraid of the monster.
Like you loved it.
Like you loved him.
And that?
That made you fall even harder.
BABY
You’d been dancing around the subject for weeks now.
The little tells. The heat in his skin. The way his eyes flashed gold when he got too worked up. How his grip on your hips would tighten just a little too much when you bratted back.
You knew he was holding something back.
And finally—tonight—he broke.
“I’m not like you,” he said, standing in your apartment with the lights dim, jaw tight, expression unreadable. “I mean really not.”
You tilted your head, arms crossed, calm as ever. “You mean demon not?”
His eyes twitched. A small flare of panic.
“I knew,” you added, softly. “I’ve always known something was… different.”
He stared at you for a moment, then exhaled slowly and stepped back.
“No screaming,” he said under his breath. “No crying. No running.”
Then the shift happened.
It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t painful. It was power—rolling through the room like heat.
His skin deepened into a smooth bluish-grey, muscles more defined, faint glowing purple stripes climbing along his chest, his forearms, his throat. His hands turned into claws—sharp, inhuman. His eyes glowed molten gold, fierce and unblinking.
He was tall. Broad. Otherworldly.
Deadly and beautiful.
And he expected you to scream.
You blinked once, staring.
Then your mouth dropped open—not in fear, but in awe.
“Oh my god,” you breathed, stepping closer, eyes wide with pure excitement. “You’re gorgeous.”
He froze. “What?”
“Seriously—what the hell, this is what you were hiding from me?” You circled him once like you were inspecting a fine piece of art, reaching out to touch one of the glowing marks on his chest. “You look like the final boss in a video game and I want to lose.”
He just stood there.
Staring.
Silent.
Because nothing in centuries of existence—nothing—had prepared him for this reaction.
And you weren’t done.
Your fingers trailed down the line of his chest, eyes gleaming. “Do these marks glow when you—oh my god do they pulse when you're turned on? Please tell me they pulse.”
Baby's claws twitched.
His chest heaved.
And then he grabbed you.
His hands—large, rough, still trembling from the shift—wrapped around your waist and pulled you to him, kissing you with a force that left you breathless. Not angry. Not rough. Just… overwhelmed.
Desperate.
You kissed him back instantly, arms looping around his broad, inhuman shoulders, pressing your soft body against his new skin.
“You’re not scared,” he whispered against your mouth, voice deeper now, grittier, almost vibrating in your chest.
“Nope,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “I’m soaking.”
He groaned, like your words physically hit him, and next thing you knew, you were in his arms—lifted like nothing—carried to the bedroom with a growl rumbling deep in his chest.
“You wanted the demon,” he growled, laying you down, claws dragging over your thighs with maddening precision. “You’re gonna get him.”
And oh, you did.
He ruined you.
With those glowing hands pinning your wrists, fangs grazing your neck, hips snapping into yours with wicked rhythm, growling praises and threats into your skin:
“Look at you—still mouthing off under me. That brat mouth doesn’t stop, does it?”
“You're mine now. Every inch. Every heartbeat.”
"Call me a monster again, sweetheart—I’ll show you what monsters do in bed."
And every time your body arched and trembled under him, every time you whimpered his name like a prayer, those glowing stripes lit brighter.
Because you didn’t just accept him.
You loved all of him.
Even the part he thought you’d never survive seeing.
ROMANCE
He stood across from you in the quiet of his bedroom—backlit by golden light through sheer curtains, his body tense, jaw clenched like he was preparing for a war. But the only thing he was fighting… was himself.
“Don’t scream,” Romance said softly, eyes lowered.
You blinked, tilting your head. “Why would I scream?”
His voice came quieter now, almost a whisper. “Because I’m about to ruin everything.”
You didn’t understand—not fully. But you nodded anyway. Trusting him. Always trusting him.
Romance took a breath. One that trembled slightly.
Then it shifted.
His skin rippled with shadow and light, the illusion of his human form melting away like mist in morning sun. In its place stood something… divine and terrifying all at once.
His skin was a smooth bluish grey, marked with soft, glowing violet stripes that pulsed faintly along his arms and neck like something alive. His hands—larger now—were clawed, lethal-looking. His eyes were glowing gold, not just bright but blinding, like they saw too much.
But he didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Because you hadn’t said a word.
You were staring.
Heart pounding.
Mouth parted.
Frozen—but not from fear.
“Holy shit,” you whispered.
His golden eyes flicked up. Still braced for it. For the flinch. The disgust. The rejection.
Instead, you took a step closer. And another.
Then—“Can I touch you?”
He blinked. “What?”
“I mean, you’re hot like this,” you said, practically bouncing on your toes. “Why didn’t you show me this sooner? The stripes? The claws?”
“You’re… you’re not scared.”
“I’m turned on,” you laughed, reaching for his hand, tracing the tips of his claws. “Romie, you’re literally hotter than hell right now.”
He stared at you like you’d just set his whole existence on fire. You were smiling. Touching him. Loving this.
Loving him.
Even like this.
His breath caught. The tension in his body cracked. And then he grabbed you.
Not roughly—no. With desperate, breathless, overwhelming relief.
He kissed you like he hadn’t had air in years—lips pressing to yours in a rush, trembling slightly from the weight of everything he’d held in. His claws curved carefully against your back, pulling you in like you were everything he’d ever wanted and never thought he could keep.
“You weren’t supposed to stay,” he whispered between kisses. “You were supposed to run.”
“Well I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured, curling your hands around his shoulders. “And I’m dying to see what else those claws can do.”
That was all it took.
Romance growled low in his throat—possessive, reverent, unhinged—and lifted you off your feet, carrying you toward the bed with supernatural ease.
“I’m going to ruin you,” he whispered, voice dark and shaken with emotion. “You’ll never forget what I am now.”
You smiled against his mouth. “Good.”
MYSTERY
He stood at the far end of the room, motionless.
It was the most tense you had ever seen him. Mystery—always quiet, calm, careful. Ghostlike in how he moved through rooms, through crowds, through emotions.
But not now.
Now, he was breathing like a man walking willingly into fire.
"You don't… have to," you said gently, watching the tight clench of his jaw. "If you're not ready, I—"
"I'm not," he said quietly, golden eyes flicking up to meet yours. "But I can't keep pretending. Not with you."
His voice trembled on the edges. "You deserve to know what I really am. And I need to see if you’ll stay once you do."
"Mystery—"
He held up a hand, and his entire body tensed.
Then… it began.
It was subtle at first—his skin seeming to shimmer in the dim light. Then, it deepened. Shifted. The warm human tone of him darkened into a smooth, bluish-grey. Purple markings bloomed along his arms, his collarbone, like tattoos that pulsed faintly beneath the surface. His fingers lengthened, sharpened into claws that flexed once before curling tightly into fists. His eyes glowed—a molten gold that didn’t look human anymore, not even close, you didn't see them clearly but you could see the glow.
And still, he didn't move.
Just stood there—shoulders squared, braced for the impact of your rejection. Waiting for you to run. Waiting to be left.
You blinked.
And then, before he could say anything—before the silence could spiral into agony—you grinned.
No, beamed.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, taking a step closer. “You’re beautiful.”
Mystery froze, his breath catching.
You weren’t screaming.
You weren’t crying.
You were practically vibrating with excitement.
“Wait—those stripes?” You reached for his arm, then paused, unsure if you were allowed to touch. “Can I…?”
He nodded, stunned.
You ran your fingers along one of the purple markings on his forearm. “It’s like ink under your skin. It’s gorgeous. You didn’t tell me your demon form was this hot—oh my god, your eyes—"
“Stop,” he said hoarsely, voice cracking.
You stilled, blinking up at him.
“I thought I’d lose you,” he said, quieter now. “I thought this would be the last time I saw you looking at me like I was… loved.”
“You are,” you said immediately, cupping his sharp, clawed hand in yours. “This doesn’t change that. If anything, it makes you more you.”
He stared at you like you couldn’t be real.
And then, finally, the leash snapped.
Mystery surged forward, kissing you with all the desperation and obsession he’d tried so hard to bury. His claws cupped your face gently—so carefully, like he was terrified of hurting you, even now—but his mouth was anything but gentle.
He kissed you like he was starving.
You melted into him, moaning against his lips as he backed you toward the bed, hands already dragging under your shirt, touching you like he couldn’t believe he was still allowed to.
“Say it again,” he rasped between kisses, his glowing eyes burning into you. “Say you still want me.”
“I want you,” you gasped, fingers tangled in his hair, your back hitting the mattress as he hovered over you. “Always. In every form.”
His chest rumbled—a low, almost inhuman sound that vibrated against your skin as he pressed his body over yours.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, fangs grazing your throat. “Even now?”
“Especially now.”
Something in him broke at that.
He growled, low and guttural, then sank his teeth gently into your collarbone, leaving a mark. A promise.
You gasped, arching into him—and he lost control.
Mystery worshipped you that night with all the hunger of a demon and all the reverence of a man in love. His hands, his mouth, his words—everything said one thing over and over again:
You saw the monster.
And you stayed.
And now he’d never let you go.
JINU
He hadn’t meant for you to see it—not yet.
Not when he was still learning how to believe that someone like you could want someone like him.
But the shift had happened so fast. His emotions—raw, tangled—had surged. His control cracked. One heartbeat of tension. One flicker of something dark and ancient rising behind his chest…
And then it was there.
His true form.
Bluish-grey skin marbled with deep violet markings like jagged lightning across his shoulders and neck, down his chest and arms. Eyes glowing gold—bright, predatory, endless. Clawed hands that trembled with restraint. His mouth—still his, but sharper, darker, demonic.
He stood in front of you like a storm barely leashed. Silent. Rigid. Expecting screams. A flinch. A step back.
Maybe even goodbye.
Because you were soft and human and so good, and he was everything a child is warned about in stories whispered under blankets.
You stared.
Eyes wide.
Mouth slightly open.
Then—
“Oh my god, you’re hot.”
Jinu blinked.
You took a step closer. “Wait—is that purple on your skin? Oh my god. I knew you were hiding something.”
“…You’re not scared?”
“Scared?” you repeated, circling around him like you’d just been handed a new favorite toy. “Babe, you have claws. Do you know how many women would sell their souls for a boyfriend with this level of monster fucker appeal?”
Jinu’s mouth opened. Closed. He had no idea what to say.
You grinned up at him, eyes practically glowing. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”
He finally breathed—something low and shaky, like he didn’t know how to hold it in anymore. “I thought you’d run.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” you murmured, stepping into his space and placing your palms—delicate, warm—on his chest. “You really thought this would scare me?”
“I’m not… good.” His voice cracked on it. “I’m not human. I’ve done things—been things—you deserve better. But I can’t—” His hands hovered near your waist, claws twitching with the need to hold, to keep. “I can’t let you go.”
You looked up at him with so much tenderness it burned.
“Then don’t.”
That was it.
That was the last thread of control snapping in his chest.
He kissed you—hard, desperate, almost shaking with the force of everything he’d held back. His claws dug into your waist—not enough to hurt, but enough to claim. Enough to say mine in every way that mattered.
“Say it,” he growled between kisses, lips brushing yours, golden eyes burning down into your soul. “Say you want this. Say you want me.”
“I want you,” you gasped, already breathless. “All of you.”
He didn’t bother taking you to bed.
He carried you.
Fast.
Cradled in his arms like you were the most fragile, holy thing he’d ever held. And maybe you were.
The second your back hit the sheets, he was on you—worshipping, kissing, devouring. His claws trailed along your thighs, your ribs, your wrists. Always gentle, always careful—yet trembling with restraint.
“Mine,” he whispered against your skin. “You said it. You said you want me.”
“I do.”
“I’ll ruin you for anyone else,” he promised. “Mark you up so good, your soul remembers me.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Jinu growled—low and guttural—as he kissed you again, burying his face in your neck, where your pulse pounded sweetly against his tongue. The place he always bit when he couldn’t take it anymore.
And this time?
He bit.
Because you weren’t afraid of the monster.
You wanted him.
And he was going to show you exactly what that meant.
What if Gwi-ma forced Jinu to break up with you after finding out you'd already gotten so close to figuring out what he was..? What his mission was..?
Your eyes widened as you gaped at Jinu, his face a pale purple with dark, jagged marks flowing across his skin. "..Jinu..?", was your breathless whisper. You had only wanted to spend time with him after their big debut, but..you weren't expecting to see him..do this..you weren't expecting your boyfriend to be a demon. You shook your head, clearing the thoughts as you took a tentative step closer.
"Jinu..love..?"
Jinu's shoulders tensed but he sighed, running a clawed hand over his face as he looked at you over his shoulder. He really wasn't in the mood for this tonight. "You know..you really should learn to knock..", he murmured, a smirk crossing his features as he appeared behind you, his chest hard against your back.
"C'mon, where are you going so soon?"
It, it was like he was enjoying this. Playing with you, your feelings. "What's wrong with you? Stop it, Jinu!", you yelped out as he gripped your wrists, yanking you against his body, even as you struggled. "Why, are you scared, love?", he purred, his golden eyes practically molten as he glared down at you.
"I, you're scaring me..please..", but it seems your plead was enough to get him laughing, actually laughing as he threw you to the floor. "Truly..it was easy tricking you. Getting you to love me was the hard part, your soul was so guarded!", he snickered to himself, not letting the shame, the guilt, nor the heartbreak lead him away from what he had to do.
If he didn't, he'd have to live with the fact forever that he'd be the cause of your death.
So, this was the next best thing. Breaking your heart, no matter how much it broke his. But oh, even if he was breaking your heart so slowly, he couldn't help admiring how pretty you looked under the moonlight.
"You were so easy, so..so easy to break into. So easy to grab your heart in my hands, just so I could break it."
Can I request reader making friendship bracelets for the strawhats but the bracelets are attached to their devil fruit power, I'm thinking it's a variation of 'red string of fate' except that when reader froms a strong bond with someone they become tied together allowing them to gain power through these ties (basically the power of friendship lol) the bracelets themselves aren't a part of the devil fruit just a cute thing reader does to help others visualize what they mean to them (as only reader can actually see the strings of fate)
Anyways the plot would be the strawhats reactions to the friendship bracelets (whether or not they know about the significance of them is up to you) this is mostly platonic strawhats but if you wanted to add romance that's cool too!
You don't have to write for all the strawhats if you don't want to but I definitely wanna see Robin's reaction to a friendship bracelet! (I think she'd really enjoy having a physical object to embody friendship)
(Sorry the ask was so long, love your writing! <3)
Glad you love my writing! Lovely to hear <3
I really liked this prompt - i love the string of fate stuff, makes me feel a bit gooey inside hehe
I could have kept going on this forevvverrrrrrrr i love the concept... spin off mini series anyone?!?!
Hope you enjoy reading!
Ties That Bind
One Piece x Fem!Reader
The kitchen was warm with the scent of Sanji’s post-lunch tea blend, a hint of citrus and mint lingering in the air. Everyone had gathered around the table like they usually did after a big meal, laughter still dying down from Luffy’s latest story about nearly punching a sky island seagull by accident.
You sat near the end of the table, a small box of thread, beads, and charm trinkets sitting beside your teacup. Nami had noticed it earlier and complimented the little braided bracelet you wore on your wrist—blue with a tiny compass bead. You smiled and muttered something vague, but now, with everyone calm and relatively in one place, you figured it was time to explain it properly.
You shifted in your seat, fiddling with a half-finished bracelet in your hands.
"Hey... can I tell you guys something?" you asked, your voice a little hesitant but clear.
Zoro tilted his head lazily, arms crossed. "If it's a confession about secretly being a government spy, say it now."
"I knew something was weird!" Usopp pointed dramatically.
"Shut up, Usopp," said Nami, elbowing him gently. "Go on, [Y/N]."
Luffy leaned forward like a kid about to hear a ghost story, chin propped up on his hands. "Yeah, yeah! Is it about your powers?"
You blinked, surprised. "...You knew?"
"Of course!" he beamed. "You smell like magic. Or maybe cinnamon. I dunno."
You laughed nervously but nodded. "Okay, yeah. So, my Devil Fruit is called the Saiken saiken no Mi—it means something like the Bond-Bond Fruit. It's… hard to explain, but basically, when I form a strong bond with someone, I can see it. Like... a thread tying us together."
Robin perked up with interest, lacing her fingers together. "A thread of fate, perhaps?"
You nodded. "Exactly. Only I can see them. Some are faint, some are bright, but the stronger the connection, the more... real they feel. And through them, I get stronger. I borrow strength from the people I'm tied to."
"So like the power of friendship?" Franky grinned. "That's super classic."
"Basically, yeah." You smiled sheepishly. "But I didn't want to freak anyone out by suddenly saying I see invisible strings attached to you all, so I started making these—" you held up the bracelet in your hand, bright orange with a tiny seashell charm, “—to kinda... represent the bonds I feel. For me, and maybe for you too. Something physical. Something nice."
Chopper gasped, eyes sparkling. "That's so cool! Wait—do I have one?"
You reached into the box and pulled out a little bracelet with white and pink beads, shaped like sakura petals. "Here."
Chopper practically exploded into a blushing mess as he took it, clutching it like it was the most sacred treasure in the Grand Line.
"You've been tying us together this whole time..." Brook said wistfully, his empty eye sockets looking soft. "Even without us knowing."
"You don’t have to wear them," you quickly added. "I just… wanted you all to know what you mean to me."
Nami’s bracelet was gold and teal with a tiny bell. Sanji’s was red and black, with a flame-shaped charm. Usopp’s had earthy tones and a little slingshot bead. Robin’s was elegant, deep violet and lace-like. Franky's had tiny gear charms. Brook’s was ivory and had musical notes.
You hesitated before pulling out the one meant for Zoro—green with a single white bead shaped like a sword—and Luffy’s: red, simple, but with a tiny anchor charm that seemed to glow with joy.
Zoro took his with a grunt of approval and a quiet, "Thanks." You swore his ears turned pink.
Sanji nearly cried over his. "You handmade this for me? Angel."
Robin turned the bracelet in her fingers thoughtfully. "You truly see something special in everyone, don’t you?"
You just smiled. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
"Wait, wait!" Luffy waved his hands. "So if you get stronger from bonds, what happens if you get, like, super close with someone?"
You blinked, surprised by the question—and the slight glimmer of teasing in his grin.
"Well," you said, "the bond gets stronger, and so does the power. I guess, in theory… the closest bond of all would make me unstoppable."
"Like a best friend?" Usopp grinned.
"...Sure," you said, smiling softly.
The mood on the Sunny shifted, but in the best way. A kind of quiet awe had settled over the table as each member of the crew examined their bracelet like it was a rare treasure.
Robin wore hers immediately, slipping it onto her wrist with a graceful flick. “It’s strange,” she murmured. “I’ve spent a long time surrounded by people who only wanted to use me. And now, someone wants to... tie themselves to me.” She looked up and smiled warmly. “It’s rather beautiful.”
Brook held his up to the sunlight. “Yohohoho! If only I had skin to feel this against. Still, I will treasure it forever, just as I treasure our friendship. Though if you ever want to make me a matching anklet—”
“No,” Zoro muttered flatly.
Nami had looped hers around her wrist, then her ankle, then back to her wrist. “It’s fashionable. Very versatile. And handmade, which gives it value.” She glanced at you with an amused smirk. “Also, you’re incredibly sentimental, aren’t you?”
Sanji sighed like he’d just been proposed to. “You tied a thread to my heart, mon ange…”
Usopp had immediately put his on and now kept glancing down at it like it was going to disappear. “So wait, if I make my bond with you stronger, do you get stronger, or do I get stronger too? ‘Cause I’m just saying, team synergy is really underrated in combat situations—”
“HEY!” Luffy suddenly slammed his hands on the table, bracelet proudly on display. “If getting strong means making super strong bonds, then we gotta do that right now. Everyone! Bonding time!”
Chopper gasped. “Really?!”
Franky slammed his drink down. “Super bonding?! Count me in!”
You blinked. “Wait, what—”
“We should do a group activity,” Luffy declared with the confidence of a king. “Something that makes [Y/N] feel extra connected to us. Like… a trust fall. Or a big team nap.”
“That’s not how it works,” you laughed. “You can’t force connection, it just happens over time.”
“Time? We don’t have time! What if we fight someone really strong next week? You gotta be ready!”
Zoro leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “You’re gonna give her emotional whiplash.”
But Luffy was already on his feet. “Let’s all tell [Y/N] a secret! That’ll make us close, right?”
“Captain,” Robin said lightly, “you’re rather enthusiastic about this.”
He beamed at you. “You’re part of my crew now. That means we’re all family. And if your powers run on family juice, then we need to juice it up!”
“…I’m gonna pretend that made sense,” you muttered, but your heart felt like it might burst.
Chopper jumped onto the table. “Okay, okay! I’ll go first! I pretend to be tough sometimes, but sometimes I cry when people call me a monster. But you never did, [Y/N]. That’s why I love you.”
Your eyes welled up immediately. “Chopper…”
“MY TURN,” Sanji shouted. “Sometimes I make extra portions ‘by accident’ just to see if you’ll pick mine over the others.”
“Obviously she does,” Zoro muttered. “Your curry’s hotter than a volcano’s butt.”
“I ENJOY COMPLIMENTS.”
Nami tapped her bracelet thoughtfully. “I hoard money because I’m still afraid. I trust you, though. You never once looked at me like I was a thief. Just… a navigator.”
Usopp cleared his throat. “I, uh… I used to make up stories about people like you. People who cared without needing a reason. Now one of them’s real.”
Your hand trembled as you clutched the box of threads to your chest. “You guys…”
Robin gave you a serene look. “You’re weaving more than bracelets, [Y/N]. You’re weaving a place for yourself. And we’re honored to be caught in your thread.”
Then all heads turned to Luffy.
He was sitting quietly now, looking down at his bracelet. And for once, his usual grin was softer. Quieter.
“My secret is…” he looked up, “...I already feel strongest when I know you guys are with me. That’s why I don’t need a power like yours. I already believe in it.”
You didn’t realize you were crying until Chopper started panicking and tossing tissues at your face.
Luffy stood up, walked over, and plopped his hat on your head.
“So, bonding time worked?” he asked, eyes hopeful.
You sniffled, clutching the rim of his hat. “Yeah. Yeah, it really worked.”
--
The sky had begun to blush with streaks of orange and lavender, soft waves lapping gently at the Sunny's hull. The energy from Luffy’s “crew bonding time” had finally died down, with Franky tinkering below deck, Sanji prepping dinner, and Zoro pretending not to nap on the lawn. A peaceful calm had settled over the ship.
You sat on a lounge chair on the deck, a warm cup of tea cradled in your hands. Steam curled upward, swirling through the threads—those glowing, invisible strings that stretched between you and every corner of the Sunny.
Some shimmered like fresh starlight, others pulsed like gentle heartbeats. Each one was different—some chaotic, some serene—but they all led back to you. A net of connection. Of love, loyalty, and laughter. And though no one else could see them, they were as real to you as the sea itself.
You smiled softly.
“May I join you?” came a gentle voice.
You looked up to find Robin approaching, a book tucked under one arm, her bracelet glinting softly in the fading light. Deep violet thread, tiny rose-gold accents, and a small book charm nestled at its center.
“Of course,” you said, shifting to make room.
She sat beside you, graceful as ever, folding one leg over the other and setting her book in her lap. For a moment, she said nothing—just sipped her own tea, gazing out at the horizon.
Then her voice broke the silence, low and thoughtful. “I’ve received many gifts in my life. Few as... sincere as this.”
You glanced at her wrist, where the bracelet sat snugly. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I don’t just like it,” she said. “I feel it. It’s strange. Even without seeing the threads, it feels like something is tied between us. Like it’s always been there, waiting.”
You stared into your cup for a long second, then spoke. “Sometimes… I wonder if people will misunderstand. That they’ll think I’m only getting close to others because it makes me stronger. That I’m just… using them.”
Robin turned toward you, eyes calm but sharp.
“That kind of power can’t be forced. And it certainly can’t be faked.”
You looked up.
“Your ability,” she said gently, “only works because you truly care. That’s what makes it powerful. And dangerous. Because if someone hurt one of us…” Her expression darkened for the briefest second. “I imagine you’d become unstoppable.”
You laughed softly, the sound half-embarrassed, half-relieved. “I guess I’d better stay on your good side.”
Robin smiled, but her gaze lingered on her bracelet. She ran her fingers over the little book charm, and for a brief moment, her lips trembled.
“I’ve spent most of my life being hunted,” she said. “Wanted. Feared. I never imagined someone would look at me and think, She matters enough to tie a thread to. But you did. And it means more than I know how to say.”
You nudged her shoulder gently, trying to keep things light. “Aw, Robin, don’t get all weepy on me now. You’re gonna make me cry, and then Chopper’s gonna panic again.”
She chuckled, brushing beneath one eye. “Too late.”
The sun dipped lower, gold spilling over the deck like spilled treasure. The threads shimmered in your mind’s eye—especially hers, now glowing warmer than ever.
“Thanks for sitting with me,” you murmured.
“Any time,” she said. “After all… we’re tied together now.”
-
Time aboard the Sunny had passed quick, and with each moment, your bonds grew stronger. You grew stronger.
-
Smoke curled through the dense trees of the island, the once-quiet jungle now a torn battlefield. Explosions echoed through the valley, and the Straw Hats were spread out, locked in skirmishes with a group of mercenaries hired to capture Devil Fruit users.
You stood at the center of it all—heart pounding, blood buzzing, a quiet hum in your ears like a rising crescendo.
This fight was different.
Not just because it was brutal—but because something inside you had clicked.
You could see the threads now. Not just shimmering faintly, but glowing. Pulsing. They surrounded you like a constellation, each one tied to someone you loved—and every single one sang with emotion.
Fear. Loyalty. Determination. Trust.
Power.
A whip lashed toward you, charged with Haki. You dodged on instinct—not your own, but one you'd learned from watching Sanji every time he danced through the air.
You spun and dropped into a low sweep-kick, following through with an upward strike so fast your knuckles cracked the air—Luffy’s wild, rubbery rhythm channeled through your limbs, even without the stretch.
Your opponent staggered.
Then another merc came at you from behind, swinging a jagged blade—and you turned, blade in hand. Not your usual style. But the grip? The stance?
Zoro.
You moved with clean precision, a flash of green and steel in your mind, parrying the attack with force that sent vibrations up your arm. You didn’t hesitate—you let the bonds guide you.
You weren’t mimicking them—you were fighting like someone who knew them inside and out. Someone shaped by them.
Across the battlefield, the others started to notice.
“Whoa—IS THAT [Y/N]?!” Usopp shouted from behind a crumbling stone wall.
“No way…” Chopper gasped, peeking over a boulder. “That move looked just like Sanji’s!”
Sanji froze mid-spin-kick, locking eyes with you across the field. “What the hell—did you just copy my move, sweetheart?!”
You grinned, lips bloody but eyes blazing. “Call it inspiration!”
“Oi!” Zoro barked, slicing through a trio of enemies. “I taught you that stance in a spar ONCE. ONCE!”
You shrugged, twirling the enemy’s weapon and chucking it back at another target with expert aim. “Guess it stuck.”
Robin, from above on a summoned flower-wing platform, watched with quiet awe. “She’s drawing strength from us… not like a parasite, but like a mirror.”
“She’s shining,” Nami whispered.
Luffy was the last to notice, mid-fight and laughing as he socked someone square in the jaw. Then his eyes landed on you—your form alive with golden threads dancing at your back like celestial ribbons.
His grin stretched wide.
“[Y/N]!!!” he called, ducking a punch and flinging an arm toward you. “YOU LOOK SO COOL RIGHT NOW!!!”
You burst out laughing, mid-spin, driving your heel into the ground and launching a mercenary several feet through the air.
One by one, the mercenaries began to retreat. You stood there panting, the threads still glowing—stronger than ever. And through them, you could feel it:
The bond. The trust. The undeniable connection.
Not just power borrowed—but power forged. Through shared meals. Inside jokes. Long nights and sea storms.
This strength wasn’t just yours.
It was theirs, too.
As the battlefield quieted and the others regrouped, Luffy jogged up to you, hands on his hips.
“That was awesome,” he said, breathless with excitement. “You fought like all of us at once!”
You wiped blood from your lip and smiled. “Guess you guys are rubbing off on me.”
“Or maybe,” Robin said as she landed beside you, her bracelet faintly glowing, “you’ve finally started to see just how deeply we’re all tied together.”
You looked around at your crew—your family. The threads between you pulsed in soft, steady rhythm.
Yeah.
You saw it.
And now, they could, too.
-
The stars were beginning to peek through the darkened sky, the moon a silver coin casting gentle light across the deck. The crew was scattered around the Sunny in various states of exhaustion and satisfaction—wounds bandaged, bellies full, spirits high.
You sat at the bow, legs swinging over the edge, a mug of something warm cradled in your hands. The threads in your mind’s eye were quiet now, humming softly. Still glowing. Still strong.
You hadn’t stopped thinking about the battle—how instinctively the power had come, how natural it had felt to move with pieces of your friends inside you. It hadn’t been overwhelming. It had been comforting. Empowering.
You smiled faintly.
“Hey.”
You turned. Luffy stood behind you, hands in his pockets, his bracelet catching the moonlight. There was something different about his expression—still playful, still curious, but... softer. Quieter.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Sure.”
He stepped closer, then sat beside you, stretching his legs out. “Can I… see them?”
You blinked. “See what?”
He turned to you, eyes wide with that impossible brightness. “The threads. The ones that tie us all together.”
Your heart stilled.
No one had ever asked before. Not seriously. Not like this. You’d always assumed it was just your burden—your gift. Your curse. A secret window only you could peer through.
You stared down at your hand, at the glowing lines stretching outward like an unseen web. “I… I don’t know if I can make them visible to others.”
Luffy didn’t push. He just tilted his head. “Wanna try?”
You looked at him for a moment.
Then nodded.
You set your mug down, sat up straight, and closed your eyes.
It started as a pull in your chest—like tugging thread through a needle. Carefully, slowly, you began to unravel that perception, pushing it outward. Extending it beyond yourself. You reached into the core of your fruit’s power, channeling not just energy, but emotion. Every laugh, every fight, every quiet cup of tea and silly card game and comforting shoulder.
You felt your fingers tremble.
Then—
“…Whoa,” Luffy whispered.
You opened your eyes.
The deck glowed.
Not brightly, not like fire or lightning—but soft, gentle light. Golden threads stretched between you and every single one of your crewmates, weaving through the ship like constellations. Some threads pulsed bright and strong—like the one leading from you to Luffy, or to Chopper, or to Robin. Others had more subtle glows, warm and steady.
Each thread was unique—colors, textures, patterns. You could feel their personalities through them.
Zoro’s thread was taut and grounded, like woven steel.
Sanji’s danced with warmth, flickering like firelight.
Nami’s sparkled with bursts of gold, laced with stormy energy.
Robin’s was velvet-smooth, deep violet with intricate knots.
Luffy’s—brightest of all—was wild and fluid, chaotic and beautiful. A living firework.
The crew slowly gathered, one by one, drawn by the shift in the air.
“What is this…” Nami whispered, stepping closer to one of the floating threads.
“Are these… ours?” Chopper asked, reaching out with trembling hooves.
“They’re real,” Zoro muttered, watching one pulse with his breath.
You were sweating now, concentrating hard. It took everything to maintain this projection—but you wanted them to see it. You wanted them to know.
“This is what I see,” you said quietly. “Every day. Every bond. Every thread that ties me to you.”
Robin stood beside you, eyes shimmering. “It’s beautiful.”
Usopp sniffled. “Why does mine look like it’s got beads on it?”
“Because I know how much you love flair,” you teased, voice trembling.
Luffy’s eyes hadn’t left the threads. His face was a mix of awe and joy, the kind of pure reaction only he could pull off.
“They’re alive,” he said. “These bonds… they’re really alive.”
You nodded. “They are. You make them real. You all do.”
And then—Luffy grinned.
He stood, arms stretched out wide as if trying to catch the sky.
“I LOVE IT!!!”
The others laughed, their voices light with wonder. Even Zoro cracked a smirk. Sanji tried to light a cigarette with shaking hands and gave up entirely, just staring at the glowing thread between you.
You held the image a few seconds longer—long enough to burn it into their memories—before gently letting it fade, like smoke in the wind.
The deck returned to normal.
But something lingered.
A feeling. A warmth.
A knowing.
You leaned back with a breathless smile.
Luffy looked down at you, still grinning. “You’re awesome.”
You met his eyes, soft and shining. “So are you.”
-
The morning sun spilled golden light across the deck, warming the wood and shimmering off the sea. The crew gathered around the table for breakfast—freshly made by Sanji, as always—still glowing in the afterglow of yesterday’s battle and the reveal.
The memory of golden threads dancing in the air hadn’t left them.
Neither had the awe.
“So,” Sanji said casually, setting down a plate of sunny-side-up eggs in front of you with a flourish, “I believe it’s only right to point out that [Y/N] used my fighting style in that battle.”
“Light on your feet. Beautiful form. Graceful kicks that could kill a sea king.” He spun with a wink. “Clearly, the power of our bond is unmatched.”
Zoro made a sound. A sound. Low, dismissive, impatient.
“Your fancy footwork was one thing,” he said through a mouthful of rice. “But the real strength came when she ended that merc with a full-on counterstrike. That was my technique.”
You raised a brow at your plate. Here we go.
Sanji bristled. “Counterstrike? She deflected a two-ton punch with a spinning heel kick. That’s my move.”
“Please,” Zoro scoffed. “She stood her ground and overpowered him. No spinning. Just raw strength. That was me.”
“She even moved like me,” Sanji snapped. “You couldn’t twirl to save your life.”
“Because I don’t need to twirl to win, curly-brow.”
“Want me to twirl you overboard—?!”
Nami sighed. “It’s too early for testosterone.”
Usopp munched toast, watching them with wide eyes. “This is weirdly flattering. They’re fighting over who has a better connection with [Y/N].”
“They’re fighting over whose bond is stronger,” Robin said lightly, sipping tea. “It’s oddly romantic.”
You sat back, sipping your own tea, amused beyond words.
But Sanji wasn’t done.
He turned from Zoro mid-argue, marched over to you, and—
Knelt. On one knee. Took your hand.
You blinked.
You flushed.
Your brain, traitorous and immediate: MARRIAGE?!
“[Y/N],” Sanji said with utmost sincerity, gazing up at you like you’d hung the stars yourself. “Out of all the bonds you hold… which one is the most powerful?”
The entire table went silent.
Zoro choked on his rice.
You stared, your face slowly going crimson. “I—um. That’s… I mean…”
He lifted your hand to his lips.
Your heart actually stopped.
You gave a slow, thoughtful hum, eyes narrowing mischievously. “Hmm… Sanji, Zoro… it’s honestly so close.”
Sanji’s smile widened like he was about to win.
But then—
You grinned.
Eyes gleaming.
You gripped his hand tighter, leaned in just slightly, and said with a soft, velvety voice:
“Of course… I could always strengthen the bond in… other ways.”
Sanji made a sound like someone had just pulled the pin on a very flustered grenade.
Then—
He died.
He dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut, flat on the deck with swirly eyes and a blissed-out smile.
Usopp dropped his toast. Chopper shrieked. Robin covered her mouth, amused. Luffy burst out laughing so hard he fell backward off the bench.
You threw your head back, laughing with your whole chest. “Oh my god, I didn’t think he’d actually pass out—”
Zoro rolled his eyes but was smirking. “Serves him right.”
As Sanji twitched on the floor, hearts floating from his head like steam, you picked up your tea again and sipped calmly.
“Guess that answers his question.”
-
The waves rocked the Sunny gently, a lullaby of the sea, as the last rays of the sun kissed the horizon in shades of peach and gold. Most of the crew had turned in early, worn out from the chaos of the past few days.
But you stayed on deck, sitting near the figurehead with your knees tucked up to your chest and a blanket around your shoulders. The breeze was cool, but the warmth in your chest kept you from feeling it.
You could see them again—the threads.
Still glowing.
Still alive.
They shimmered faintly in the dusk light, stretched like constellations across the deck and walls and sails. So many beautiful bonds. So many pieces of yourself that had once been broken, now tied to others.
You felt whole.
But one thread…
One thread blazed like sunlight.
It wasn’t just bright. It wasn’t just strong.
It radiated.
Wild and untamed. Joyful and fierce.
The thread tied to Luffy.
You didn’t even have to look to feel him behind you.
“Hey,” he said softly.
You turned. He was barefoot, messy-haired as always, arms behind his head like he had all the time in the world. He plopped down beside you, crisscross applesauce, and stared out at the sea with a relaxed smile.
“I knew you’d be up here,” he added, glancing at you. “You always look at the sky when you’re thinking.”
You smiled back. “I could say the same to you.”
He grinned wider, and for a long moment, you both just sat in comfortable silence.
The wind tugged at your hair. The sea whispered. And the thread between you glowed like firelight in your chest.
“Hey, Luffy,” you said finally. “Do you… remember when you first found me?”
He blinked, then nodded once, slow. “Yeah. You were in that weird old port town. Working for that rich jerk.”
You nodded, eyes distant. “More like owned. I didn’t even realize I was fading until you walked in, like a storm. You didn’t even hesitate. Just looked at me and said, ‘Wanna come with us?’”
Luffy’s smile softened. “Well, yeah. You looked like someone who needed the sky.”
Your throat tightened.
“You saved me, you know,” you whispered. “Not just from that place, but from… me. I used to think my powers only worked if I earned people’s love. Like I had to be useful. Like I had to deserve it.”
Luffy was quiet, watching your face.
“But you…” Your voice wavered. “You just… took me. Like I was already something precious. Like I didn’t have to earn anything.”
He didn’t say anything right away. Then he reached out—softly, gently—and tugged the edge of your blanket until you scooted closer. Your shoulder touched his.
“You are something precious,” he said matter-of-factly. “That’s why you shine so much.”
You felt your chest tighten in the best way. That thread between you burned golden. Stronger than any other. Stronger than steel, stronger than fate.
“I used to think I needed someone to be my light,” you murmured. “But I think… maybe I just needed someone to let me shine.”
You looked at him.
And smiled.
“You’re the sun, Luffy. You just don’t know it.”
He laughed, a little awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah. You’re the one glowing all the time.”
You reached over and took his hand—warm and calloused and steady. The thread between you flared in your mind like a second heartbeat.
“Yeah,” you said. “But only because I’m standing in your light.”
For once, Luffy didn’t answer with words. He just grinned—really grinned—and leaned his forehead against yours, laughing under his breath like you’d told him a secret that made him happy.
And you laughed too. Because you’d never felt more seen. Or more safe.
Wrapped in his sunlight.
Tied to something bigger than fate.
Maybe some hiccup x reader fluff? Just them being goofy and treasing each other :) you're not obligated to write this so if you don't want to that's okay!!! I hope you're having a great day :D
a/n: no i definitely want to write this and i am thank you! i hope you are too <3 sorry this has taken so long to be posted i've not been able to come up with plots that i like lol
Warnings: none
Words: 580
Gender-neutral reader
"Hey! Give that back!"
"Nope, it's all mine now."
"Hiccup, I'm trying to read."
"Yeah, and not paying attention to what I'm saying."
You cross your arms and playfully glare at your husband. "You're the one who told me to go read while you did all your chief-y stuff, so I did exactly that, and now you're not letting me."
Hiccup flips to a random page in the book. "He stared at her with longing eyes, vulnerable eyes, and she realised - You're reading romance!"
"Of course I am," you say. "Something I can't get from you anymore."
"Oh, shush, you." Hiccup hands you back the book and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "I'm good at romance, I am romance."
"Yeah," you say, rolling your eyes, "and I'm Odin."
Hiccup perches himself on the armrest of your chair - which can't be comfortable, at all - and rests his head on top of yours.
"I never took you for the romance type," he says.
You lightly hit his face with the book. "I just read whatever your mother gives me. She gives me all of these books every week, which is super sweet. You know, I think she likes me more than you."
"Oh, yeah, definitely," Hiccup says, poking your arms.
"It's true," you say, sitting forward.
The movement causes Hiccup to fall sideways so he's horizontal behind you. You laugh at the dramatic way he reacts to it, resting his hand on his forehead as you stand.
"This is it," he says. "I'm dead."
His hand drops down and he closes his eyes, sticking his tongue out at the side of his mouth. You roll your eyes again, putting your book down on the small table by your chair, before poking his sides with your fingers.
"Ah!"
Hiccup jolts upwards, shocked by the feeling. You poke him again, laughing at how ticklish he is.
He regains his breath after you stop, looking up at you. "Your turn."
Your eyes widen. Crap.
The second Hiccup stands up, you're running through the house to get away from him. You can hear his boot and the clanking of his metal leg behind you, and the sound of his laugh bouncing off the walls. You laugh, too, heart racing in adrenaline and hilarity.
"No!" you shout, laughing, as Hiccup grabs you and pulls you backwards.
Your feet are lifted off the ground as Hiccup carries you to your shared room, dropping you on the bed. You have no time to try and run again when his hands make contact with your sides and your stomach.
You wriggle and try to evade the feeling, to no avail. Thankfully, Hiccup stops after a few seconds, dropping down on the bed beside you.
"Man," he says. "That was tiring."
You laugh, breathless. "You're tired? I was the one being tickled!"
Hiccup waves his hand like it's no big deal. "At least we're even now."
"I feel like we're kids again," you say. "Tickling each other and getting 'even'."
"It's weird, isn't it?" Hiccup's hand reaches yours. The metal of his wedding ring is cold on your hand. "I like it, though."
You nod. "So do I. Makes me feel like I'm not just a grumpy adult."
"Yeah." Hiccup lets out a long breath. "Well, bedtime for me."
"It's not even dinner time."
"I'm tired!"
"You're an old man is what you are."
"If I'm old then so are you."
"Not as old as you. You're ancient."
"Oh, shush."
I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS PROMPT THE WHOLE TIME. You can tell because I went wayyy over 500 words.
AO3 link :)
You stared at your soon-to-be husband as if in a trance, Asgore’s voice droning on by your ear as he read off the customary lines. You knew you were supposed to be listening to him, but you couldn’t. And besides, you and Sans had gone over the whole ceremony over and over again. You would catch your cue. For now, you just smiled at Sans. He smiled back at you, skeletal thumbs rubbing comfortingly over the backs of your hands.
Despite dating him for a long, long time, this was your first time seeing him dressed fancy, and you were eating it up. Sure, the lazy, cozy style was his aesthetic, and it was a good one on him. But in your opinion, every man looked good in a sharp suit like that, and Sans was no exception. No, he was a prime example.
“And so,” boomed Asgore’s voice, introducing the cue you’d been waiting for, “let us all bear witness to the closest thing to their love for each other that words can express, spoken directly from what cannot lie: the soul.”
This was the one part of the ceremony that you had still been nervous about when it began today, for a myriad of reasons. First, you were worried that you would be unable to produce your soul…
Sans squeezed your hands a little. The blue glow of his soul was prominent, easily visible through the white fabric of his dress shirt. He was ready to present it to you whenever the moment came, but he was waiting for you to present yours first. That was harder for a human than a monster. But you could do it… You could.
“let me help,” he whispered to you, and pressed his body against yours in a hug. It was a simple show of affection, of course, but also a way of placing his own soul closer to yours. Coaxing it out. Telling it that it was alright, and that his soul would be with it for every moment it was exposed.
In a few moments, your soul was convinced. You let out a soft sigh of relief as the luminous heart-shaped essence slipped from your chest, he took a step back, and your soul joined his in the space between you.
That was step one. Now for the next part you were worried about, and the one you were worried about much more than just being able to produce your soul in front of the crowd.
Now you had to let Sans hold it, see and feel every emotion and memory of yours like never before, and not only that. You had to give him access to every part of your being, and then you had to let him read out what he found there to the audience.
Even now, minutes away from calling him your husband, you were still terrified that he was going to find something there, something in the depths of your soul, something you’d never even meant to hide from him, that he wouldn’t like. Something that would give him doubts, make him turn his back on you like everyone else in your life—
As soon as Sans’ soul was in your hands, and yours was in his, you knew that wasn’t true. You felt his love for you before you felt anything else, and you felt it in your own body, as if it was yours, but it was still somehow so distinctly his. Even if you could feel that incredible duality of emotion inside you, the smile he gave you while holding your soul in his hands was enough to tell you that he was deliriously happy from whatever it was making him see and feel and remember.
Why had you ever worried? This was about your feelings for him, and if there was anything you could ever believe in with total certainty, it was that you loved Sans from the bottom of your heart. Now, he could feel that. And you could feel that he felt the same way about you. Unwavering, undying, unconditional love, continuous like a thread of time from the moment he met you until now and forevermore.
“lemme go first,” Sans offered, grin as wide as it had been all day. “show the human how it’s done. let’s see… first thing they thought about me was that i was weird. so i’m pretty sure that’s the same as everyone who’s ever met me. now how the heck did we get from that to you wanting to marry me?” he teased you, earning a laugh from the audience, and a bashful shrug from you.
It really was true. He could remember your thoughts, your feelings, just as clearly as you could. And you remembered all the days spent with him like they were just yesterday, all the way back to your first impressions of him. As people say, time flies when you’re having fun, and your relationship with Sans was the most fun you’d had in your entire life.
“i guess it all started when we started spending more time together. it’s hard for them to tell the difference between us becoming good friends and the beginning of their crush on me. in fact, they’re not even totally sure the distinction was ever there. something about our friendship always felt… different to them. something they couldn’t quite put their finger on. they got a real happy, funny feeling inside ‘em whenever we were around each other. and it’s like… one day it meant nothing. and the next day it meant everything. even when they admitted to themself that they had feelings for me, they still kinda thought i looked…” He looked at you like a kicked puppy and lowered his voice. “you still thought i looked kinda ugly?”
“Oof. Well when you put it like that…”
“BUT now, through some sorta wide-scale brain changes neuroscientists are gonna be studying for years to come, they think i’m the sexiest man alive, so it’s all good.” His face lit right back up, and yours did, too. Clearly, that was what mattered to him. “in any case. if i’m looking at this and remembering right, they had feelings for me wayyy before they ever showed any signs of it.”
“… I was scared,” you whispered to him, only for him to nod solemnly at the soul he was holding in his hands and whisper back, “i know.”
“to this day, they still see me as their best friend. that’s a big part of why they’re so confident in this marriage. they think that being married to your best friend is the best thing in the world, because you already know you wanna spend every moment of every day together. and that’s what they wanna do with me. they wanna laugh at my dumb jokes even when i’m old and forgetful and i keep telling ‘em the same ones over and over again. have a family together. get me away from all the bad things that have happened to me. i… they love so much. so much more than they show, so much more than words can express.” He looked to the people watching, many of whom had their hands over their hearts (or souls) right about now. “i wish you all could feel it. that’s the only way to really understand it. they love me in each and every way it’s possible to love someone. they love the life we already have together, and the life we have ahead of us. they love all our friends, both human and monster. they love their life like never before.” After such eloquence, it was kind of comical and jarring when he left it off with an awkward, “that’s about it. well, it’s not. but if i tried to talk about everything, we’d be here all week and she’d probably immediately divorce me for spilling all her secrets.”
Sans got laughter and applause from the onlookers for his part, and from you, a kiss on his forehead and a promise of, “Never.”
After that example, you felt a lot better about expressing the feelings and memories flowing throughout you right now. Once the welcoming silence fell once again, you took a deep breath and spoke, letting words fall that, in the best way possible, didn’t feel like they were entirely your own.
“Before Sans met me, there were two aspects of himself that lived in tandem with each other. There was a part of himself that distrusted humans. Didn’t hate them. But distrusted them, certainly. Examples in his life of humans being good were few and far between, even when monsterkind went free. People… people were assholes.”
You could see it now, in his memory. The judgmental stares, the sneers. Even physical confrontations.
“And then there was a part of himself that longed for a soulmate. Not necessarily a romantic one, in fact, he was never looking for romance at all. He just wanted someone to be his very best friend, to put him before anything else as long as he did the same for them. Like Papyrus, but different from a brother. He always felt like so many people knew him, but at the end of the day, nobody really… knew him. And he knew that was partially his fault, for… for not really being open with people. I guess… what he was looking for was somebody who would make him feel like he wanted to open up. Somebody who made him feel like he wanted to talk about it all without it feeling like twisting knives in old wounds.”
You could imagine that even Sans was confused about those feelings at that time in his life. Feeling them directly from his soul, it was still hard to put them into words for him. You looked to him for guidance and confirmation, and he gave you a small, approving nod.
“And those two parts of himself never existed in conflict, until he met me.” The way that came out made the corner of your lip turn up in a smirk, like you were reading a script he wrote, and that line cracked you up. “When I laughed at his jokes—even the bad ones—and understood his distrust, and his closed-off nature. Respected his boundaries, but endlessly offered my help and compassion. Treated him like he was no different from myself, except for the body he existed in… that need for a companion in life won out. He realized that the person he’d been waiting for all this time was here, and they were a human. A kind human, with an open mind and a loving heart. And luckily, by that time, I considered him a close friend of mine, too.
“I think it goes without saying that the story doesn’t end there. The first odd thing he noticed was that he never wanted to pull away from me when I touched him. In fact, he found himself craving my physical attention. Oh, yeah,” you laughed, slipping from his memories to your own for a moment. “We hugged a lot. And here I was, always worried I was pushing it with those extended hugs. Turns out neither one of us wanted to let go.”
“nope,” Sans confirmed. “if i had it my way, we would’ve walked around like a couple of conjoined twins.”
“Jesus, Sans.” You continued without further ado, “Well I won’t get into the details, but there were a lot of confused, awkward feelings here. I tell you all, Sans keeps it cool on the outside like nobody else, but on the inside? You would not believe.” You leaned down and whispered to him, “Dude, can I tell them about the pillow?”
“can you tell them about the—no you cannot tell them about the pillow!” he shouted a whisper back to you with his cheeks blue with embarrassment, making you giggle wildly. “there are children present!”
“Okay. Sorry, everyone. He doesn’t want me to tell you about it.” You balanced his soul in one hand, using the other for just a moment to wipe happy tears from your eyes, before returning it. “The important thing is, this was the first time he ever felt like this. He knew the concept of romantic love, but never felt it or went looking for it. So he wasn’t expecting it to one day just… hit him. But it did.” Your voice softened, his soul seeming to warm in your hands at the memories you were exploring. “It’s corny, but. He really did know that he loved me when I first kissed him.
“And it’s more than just love I gave him. I gave him a sense of hope for the future that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He stopped worrying about the day things would all be taken away from him, and started dreaming about what would happen if that day never came. He learned to hope again. And he thanks me for that. Even though I would personally like to remind him that he should give himself a lot more credit for his own recovery…” you smiled down at him lovingly, “I’m glad that I was a part of that. A big part. He has so many things he wants to do now. But all of them involve me. And being with me. And always having my support, and supporting me in return. He understands love now, even more than he did just before this wedding ceremony. He understands how mutual and selfless it is now. He’s not confused about anything anymore, he knows exactly what he wants.” It all came out so quickly, so naturally, you almost forgot to breathe between your words. “His soul has already been irreversibly bound to mine for a long, long time. Today is just to show that to everyone and make it official. But it’s still the happiest day of his life. His love for me is one thing about himself that he wants everybody to know.”
“i considered getting us a couple of big, honkin’ wedding rings,” Sans jested, half to you and half to the audience. “like the size of a ring pop. so that people can see that we’re married from a mile away. turns out they don’t sell ‘em that big.”
More laughter, more applause. You let out a deep breath, and Sans pulled you into his arms, whispering to you about what a good job you did, and how incredible it was to feel your soul, and how he never could’ve imagined what that would be like. Slowly, tenderly, you returned each other’s soul to one another, and after lingering between you for a long moment, they disappeared back into your chests. With the removal of your connection to his soul, it felt like a void opened up in you. You hugged him closer, already yearning to connect with his soul again. On your honeymoon, you promised yourself. On your honeymoon, you would have all the time in the world to explore that deep, intimate connection…
“… Given all you have found about one another and told us here today…” Asgore continued the ceremony, wiping a tear from his twinkling eyes, “Do you, Sans Gaster, take this human to be your lifelong partner, your greatest companion and soulmate, as long as your soul may sing its love for theirs as it has today?”
“i do.” Sans didn’t even lift his head from your chest. He didn’t want to stop hugging you. He didn’t ever want to let go.
“And do you,” Asgore addressed you, “take this monster to be your lifelong partner, your greatest companion and soulmate, as long as your soul may sing its love for his as it has today?”
“I do.”
“Then with the blessing of the king and all of monsterkind, may your souls be bound to one another in marriage forevermore. For the first time in all of recorded history…” Asgore emphasized, “the human may now kiss their new monster husband.”
“as much as they can without me having lips, anyways,” Sans added, before tangling his fingers in your hair. “c’mere, my sunshine.”
The kiss you shared made you feel blind and deaf to anything other than him. And for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not anyone’s approval or disapproval, not your exact plans, not the backlash you might face, not even the fact that you were making history.
All that mattered was that neither of you ever wanted this happiness to end.
hai hai! can i request some classic sans hcs (romantic) with a s/o who constantly has cute aggression towards him? picking him up, squeezing, smooching, calling him pet names… just look at him! he’s so cute and tiny and funny and i just love him.
sans: ererererere
reader: 🤲 precious.
That would be me lmao, comin' right up!
Undertale Sans x Reader
First time you pick him up he is just- shook
Ya know how feral cats look when a human picks them up by the nape of their neck? Yeah that's him
Yeah he's short but literally the only person that has ever been bold enough to just pick him up has been Papyrus and that's in an entirely different context to how you do it.
Not that he minds it necessarily, but it is literally just "???" the first couple of times. Especially if you try while he's doing something and he has to suddenly comprehend that he's being lifted
But after that confusion dies down he's all for just flopping in your arms like the lazy bones he is, it has led to a few humorous situations though
Undyne: "You! Y/N I need you to-.....why are you carrying Sans?"
Sans, probably being held in a very dopey pose: "sup"
Will fall asleep in your arms, especially if he's being held for very long periods
Generally just kind of amused by your affections, even if they take him off guard. Does tease you about 'em though
"babe you don't have to squeeze me this hard im not an accordian"
Don't ever mistake it as discouragement though, he does enjoy it even if he's not extremely vocal about it. Sometimes it's just nice to feel loved
It'll only ever really annoy him unless he's in the middle of something important, he does have a lot of jobs y'know.
Will get kinda cheeky about it, there's the teasing as mentioned above but he'll also return some of the nicknames with some of his own
And? Whenever you attempt to sneak up on him and scoop him up, he'll sneakily teleport behind house all like "what?"
Never takes much to wrangle him back though
Also if you ever wear lip gloss, lipstick, anything akin to that and leave a bunch of marks on his face he'll just leave them there 9/10 even after someone points them out
Hey! I'm a big fan, annnd I have a bakugou x y/n idea... where bakugou hasn't been paying attention to y/n his girlfriend lately and it's been lonely.... so y/n is watching a romance anime with Mina and y/n says... "I wish I had that"....and then Mina ask if she loves bakugou and she says ...."hes okay"..... but the whole time bakugou and his friend kirishima were listening....and bakugou his mind is like "I'm a bad boyfriend? Does she love me? Im...okay?"
K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY
Synopsis: Bakugo has been distant toward his girlfriend (you), and she realizes how much it is actually affecting her while watching a romance movie that includes the love that she wishes she had.
Short note: Chapter 23 of my Bakugo x Reader Fanfiction is out now! If you like my stories on here, I'm sure you'll like my fanfiction, so go check it out! The link is at the end of this post!!
Distance Between Us:
It all started slowly, too slow for you to realize.
The day you started to notice it was when it was late in the evening, and you were sitting on the couch, waiting for Bakugo to come home.
He had promised to spend the evening with you after work, but as the hours ticked by, your excitement turned into frustration. Finally, you heard the front door open.
Bakugo walked in, still in his hero uniform, his face tired and serious. "Sorry, I got held up at work. Some idiot caused a mess in the city," he muttered, tossing his gloves onto the table.
You smiled, trying to be understanding. "It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home now. Want me to heat up the dinner I made for us?"
"Not hungry," he replied shortly, already pulling out his phone. "I need to check the patrol schedule for tomorrow. There’s a lot going on."
You sighed, your shoulders dropping. "Katsuki, can’t it wait? You’ve been working all day. We barely get time together."
But he didn’t seem to hear you, his eyes glued to the screen. "Huh? Yeah, sure, whatever you say."
The evening dragged on, and though he was physically present, his mind remained consumed by hero work.
You ended up eating dinner alone while he sat at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop.
---
Another time was when he had made plans out of nowhere to hang out with his friends and ditch out on the two of you had planned.
It was a rare weekend when Bakugo didn’t have patrol or missions lined up.
You had planned a quiet day together—something simple, just the two of you.
But as you were setting up breakfast, his phone buzzed on the counter.
Bakugo glanced at the screen and smirked. "It’s Kirishima. He wants to hit the gym and grab lunch afterward. I’ll be back later."
Your stomach sank. "I thought today was for us? We haven’t had a day off together in weeks, Katsuki."
He blinked as if realizing for the first time that you might have feelings about this. "We can hang out later. It’s not like I’m gone all day. Plus, I haven’t seen the guys in a while."
You bit your lip, trying to keep your disappointment in check. "But we haven’t seen each other in a while either."
He paused for a second, then ruffled your hair in a halfhearted gesture. "Come on, it’s not a big deal. I’ll see you tonight." Before you could argue further, he was already grabbing his gym bag and heading out the door.
---
Another day came, and he did the same.
Bakugo’s dedication to his work often left him exhausted, and his sleep schedule was all over the place.
One night, you stayed up late, waiting for him to come to bed.
You had something important to talk about, but he was still in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, catching up on sleep.
"Katsuki," you called softly, standing in the doorway.
He grunted, barely lifting his head. "What is it?"
"I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s been on my mind for a while."
He groaned, sitting up slightly. "Can it wait? I just got back from a double shift, and I’m dead tired."
"But it’s important," you insisted, stepping closer.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Y/n, I can’t deal with anything serious right now. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?"
The next day came and went, and so did the conversation. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever get the timing right.
---
Then, of course, came another.
One evening, Bakugo was in the backyard, practicing his explosions while you watched from the patio.
You had been waiting for him to finish so you could spend some quality time together, but he was completely absorbed in his training.
"Hey, Katsuki," you called out, waving at him. "How much longer are you going to be out here?"
"Not now, babe," he shouted back, his voice carrying over the sound of crackling explosions. "I’m almost done!"
Almost turned into an hour, and by the time he came inside, you were curled up on the couch, half-asleep.
He walked past you, grabbing a water bottle from the kitchen.
"Sorry, I lost track of time," he said, but there was no apology in his tone.
You gave him a small smile, too tired to argue. "It’s okay," you mumbled, though deep down, you wondered if he even realized how much you had been waiting for him.
---
In each of these scenarios, Bakugo’s priorities—whether work, friends, or personal routines—seemed to overshadow his time with you. While his intentions might not be malicious, his actions often left you feeling overlooked and craving the attention he gave to everything else in his life.
───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────
The evening was calm, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow across the counters.
You stood at the stove, carefully stirring the simmering pot of stew. The gentle aroma of sautéed vegetables, rich broth, and spices filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft hum of the overhead fan.
Tonight, you had decided to prepare something special—something hearty and comforting, like the conversation you hoped to have with Bakugo.
It had been a while since the two of you had truly spent time together.
His hero work had consumed most of his days, leaving you with fleeting moments of his presence.
You understood, of course, the weight of his responsibilities, but that didn’t make the distance any easier.
So, as a gesture of love and an attempt to reconnect, you had spent the better part of the evening preparing this meal.
The kitchen was cozy, lit by the soft glow of under-cabinet lights.
Plates were set neatly on the table, silverware arranged perfectly beside them.
A bottle of chilled sparkling water stood in the center, and the faint crackle of the stovetop added a soothing rhythm to the room.
You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. He should be home any minute now.
You adjusted the flame under the pot, letting the stew bubble gently, and moved to check on the freshly baked bread cooling on the counter.
The sound of the front door opening broke the quiet, followed by the rustling of heavy boots on the doormat.
Your heart gave a small flutter at the familiar noise.
He was home.
You didn’t look up from your task, your focus fixed on the pot as you gave it one last stir.
Toward the front door, the faint creak of the door closing reached your ears, followed by the soft thud of a duffle bag hitting the floor.
Bakugo’s presence filled the space immediately, even without a word.
The faint scent of smoke and ash mingled with the aroma of dinner, a signature of his return after a long day on patrol.
You heard the stretch of leather as he raised his arms high above his head, likely working out the stiffness from hours of action.
His footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor as he made his way down the hall.
You could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, his hair likely a mess from the day’s exertion.
The sound of his approach grew louder, each step deliberate yet unhurried, as if he were easing back into the calm of home.
You stayed at the stove, stirring slowly, waiting for him to join you in the kitchen, the moment of connection hanging in the air like the steam rising from the pot.
The clatter of the wooden spoon against the pot ceased as you set it down gently on the counter.
Wiping your hands on the apron tied snugly around your waist, you turned toward the kitchen's pillared entrance.
The soft shuffle of Bakugo’s steps nearing the kitchen tugged at your curiosity, and you couldn’t help but abandon your task momentarily.
You stepped around the corner, leaning casually against the frame of the kitchen entrance.
Resting your hand lightly on the wall, you peeked out toward him.
The sight of Bakugo, mid-stretch with his arms behind his head, immediately brought a fond smile to your lips.
His usual scowl was softened by a tiredness that clung to him, his messy ash-blond hair catching the dim light of the hallway.
He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck, likely sore from a long day.
His broad shoulders rolled slightly as he worked out the tension, the faint sound of his knuckles popping filling the quiet space.
The corners of your lips curled further upward as you admired him in his element—worn out yet still exuding the confidence and strength you loved about him.
Before you could say anything, his crimson gaze lifted, finally catching sight of you standing there.
His expression didn’t shift much—just a subtle raise of his brows as if to acknowledge your presence.
You straightened slightly, your smile warm and inviting as you prepared to greet him.
But before you could utter a word, he spoke first, his gravelly voice breaking the silence.
“I’m going upstairs to shower. Gotta get this grime off my body.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and he started walking toward you without breaking stride, cracking his knuckles as he moved.
Your smile didn’t falter as he approached, though the hurriedness of his words made you hesitate. “Oh, well, that’s great,” you began, your voice light and teasing. “But don’t take too long becau—”
“Oh yeah, by the way, before I forget,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through yours without a hint of malice, just his usual bluntness. “The gang and I are gonna hang out later, so I won’t be home for long.”
The abruptness of his words hit you like a splash of cold water. Your mouth hung slightly open mid-sentence, the rest of your words caught in your throat.
Bakugo’s gaze didn’t linger long, already focused ahead as though his announcement was nothing out of the ordinary.
Bakugo’s heavy boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he approached you, his expression unreadable but relaxed.
He stopped just in front of you, his tall frame towering slightly over yours.
The familiar scent of ash and sweat lingered faintly, a testament to his grueling day.
Without a word, his hand reached out, rough but warm, and landed gently on your head.
His fingers ruffled through your hair in a way that was both playful and dismissive, tousling it slightly.
A light smirk played on his lips as he pulled his hand back, his crimson eyes meeting yours briefly.
“I know you can handle things here, so I’ll leave you to it,” he said, his voice low and casual, like he hadn’t just brushed past the idea of spending time with you.
As you stood out in front of him, the confidence and courage you had gathered from cooking in the kitchen had disappeared.
Now that you felt this way, there was no way you were going to bring up spending time with him over dinner.
Even though you had spent all evening preparing this relaxing for the both of you to enjoy, you couldn’t bring yourself to to tell him.
You were scared that if you had opened up, he might have gotten angry and dismissed all your worries with his furrowed brows.
Your heart sank a little at his words, but you forced a small smile, not wanting to let it show.
He turned on his heel without a second glance, his footsteps carrying him toward the staircase that led to the second floor of your shared home.
As he walked, his broad shoulders swayed slightly, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the tension that suddenly gripped your chest.
You stood frozen for a moment, your mouth hanging slightly open, the words you wanted to say stuck somewhere in your throat.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, willing them away. You hated how they burned, how they threatened to spill over.
This wasn’t the first time Bakugo had brushed things off, but tonight, with the effort you’d put into dinner and the mounting distance you felt between you two, it stung more than usual.
He reached the first step of the staircase, his hand brushing against the railing as he prepared to ascend.
At you stood, something inside you snapped—a small but resolute voice urging you not to let the moment slip by.
Swallowing hard, you gathered the courage you had left, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to cut through the air.
“Can I go too?”
Bakugo paused mid-step, his back still facing you, as the silence stretched between you both.
For a moment, you wondered if he had even heard you or if he’d continue up the stairs without a response.
Then, he turned his head slightly, revealing his side profile, his crimson eyes glancing at you.
“You wanna come?” he asked, his tone even and unreadable, a single brow raised in surprise.
Your hands instinctively came together, fidgeting as you avoided his gaze.
“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Gathering a bit more courage, you glanced up at him, noticing his blank expression.
It only lasted a second before you looked down again, unsure how your request would be received. “I mean, if that’s okay…”
Bakugo stared at you for a beat longer, his brow still raised as if trying to gauge your seriousness.
Then, his features softened, his raised brow lowering as he gave a small, nonchalant nod.
“Yeah, uh, sure,” he said, his voice carrying a casualness that made it hard to tell how he really felt.
Without another word, he turned back toward the stairs.
Relief washed over you, and a small smile crept onto your face as you followed his movements with your eyes.
It wasn’t much, but his agreement made you feel a little better, a small step toward closing the gap that had been forming between you two.
As Bakugo reached the first step of the staircase, he stopped again, his hand on the railing.
He turned his head just enough to look back at you, his expression neutral but firm.
“I’m leaving by 6, so get ready,” he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Then, without waiting for a response, he ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the quiet house.
You stood there in the kitchen, your smile slowly fading as his words sank in.
Glancing at the half-finished dinner you’d worked so hard on, your arms dropped to your sides, mirroring the exhaustion settling in your chest.
The kitchen felt colder now, emptier, as you stood there alone, staring at the plans you’d made that now felt insignificant.
With a deep breath, you tried to shake off the weight of disappointment, forcing yourself to move and tidy up the counter.
But no matter how much you willed yourself to focus on the task at hand, the sting of his casual dismissal lingered, leaving a quiet ache in its wake.
───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────
The soft hum of the Porsche's engine filled the quiet evening air as Bakugo sat in the driver’s seat, his hand drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.
His gaze occasionally flicked toward the house, his sharp crimson eyes scanning for any sign of you.
The minutes ticked by, and though he didn’t say it out loud, he was growing impatient.
But there was a part of him that understood why you were taking your time—he had sprung this last-minute outing on you, and you deserved a moment to get ready properly.
Inside, you were slipping on your white Converse, carefully tying the laces with precision.
The finishing touch to your outfit had just been added—a chic combination of blue jeans, a navy blue tank top, and a white cardigan that fell perfectly against your frame.
You smoothed down the fabric, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror by the door.
Your navy blue purse rested comfortably on your shoulder, and the messy bun you’d styled earlier sat perfectly atop your head, with the white headband completing the look.
Satisfied, you grabbed your keys and reached for the door handle.
As you stepped outside, the soft glow of the porch light illuminated your figure.
The evening air was cool against your skin, and the faint scent of freshly cut grass lingered.
You glanced toward the sleek black Porsche parked in the driveway, where Bakugo sat waiting for you.
Inside the car, Bakugo looked up as the light from the open door seeped out, drawing his attention.
His sharp gaze landed on you, and for a moment, his breath hitched.
You looked stunning—effortlessly chic yet understated, the kind of beauty that didn’t need to try too hard.
The way the soft curls framed your face, the navy blue of your tank top complementing your skin, and the casual elegance of your outfit made his heart skip a beat.
He blinked, trying to maintain his usual composure, but the faintest tint of pink crept onto his cheeks, betraying him.
It was subtle, just enough to hint at the effect you had on him, but it was there.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he tore his eyes away for a brief second, trying to recover.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the dashboard as if it could somehow distract him.
But his gaze inevitably drifted back to you, his expression softening in a way only you could bring out in him.
He didn't say anything just yet—he wasn’t the type to gush—but the way his cheeks betrayed a rare blush spoke volumes.
The soft hum of the Porsche’s engine was steady as Bakugo sat, his hand draped nonchalantly over the steering wheel while the other rested against his mouth.
His sharp crimson eyes flicked away from you as you descended the steps toward the car, trying to keep his focus elsewhere.
The blush that had crept onto his cheeks earlier lingered faintly, and though he wouldn’t admit it, seeing you like this had thrown him off his usual composure.
You opened the passenger door with care, stepping into the car and adjusting yourself in the plush seat.
The faint scent of Bakugo’s cologne mingled with the new-car smell, giving the cabin a warmth that was uniquely him.
As you closed the door gently behind you, you glanced up to see him leaning against the driver’s side, his elbow propped on the car door and his hand casually gripping the wheel.
His relaxed posture was natural, but the way his eyes darted toward you from the corners of his vision betrayed a subtle curiosity.
“Sorry I took so long,” you said softly, brushing a loose curl behind your ear.
Your voice broke the quiet tension, and you weren’t sure if you imagined his lips twitching into a faint smirk.
“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone gruff yet calm, as he adjusted himself in the seat and placed both hands on the wheel.
Hearing the simplicity of his response made you smile, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest.
You carefully removed your bag from your shoulder, placing it neatly on your lap.
Bakugo, meanwhile, shifted the car into reverse, the soft rumble of the engine vibrating beneath you as he backed out of the driveway with precision.
You stole a quick glance at him from the corners of your eyes.
The streetlights outside cast a warm, golden hue that framed his sharp jawline and stern features as he focused on maneuvering the car.
He looked so effortlessly confident, so in control—it was hard not to admire him.
Reaching up, you flipped open the vanity mirror above your head, giving yourself a quick once-over.
You smoothed down a stray curl and checked your lipstick, making sure everything was still in place.
Satisfied, you closed the mirror with a soft click and adjusted in your seat, letting your gaze wander back to him.
The quiet of the ride was broken only by the sound of the tires rolling over asphalt and the faint hum of the radio playing low in the background.
You bit your lip lightly, debating whether or not to say what had been on your mind.
Finally, you took a small breath, your fingers beginning to fidget nervously with the strap of your bag.
“Sooo…” you began, your voice tentative as you glanced out the window, gathering your thoughts.
Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his focus remaining on the road ahead. His silence urged you to continue, so you did.
“How do I look?” you asked, your tone light yet tinged with curiosity.
Your gaze flickered toward him briefly before quickly looking back down at your lap, where your fingers continued to toy with your bag strap.
The quiet hum of the car filled the space between you and Bakugo, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
His eyes were fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel, while the other rested lazily on the gear shift.
You waited patiently, watching him through your peripheral vision, hoping for some kind of reaction to your question.
He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze momentarily darting toward you before returning to the street ahead.
The streetlights flickered as they passed, casting warm, golden hues across his sharp features.
His silence stretched on, and for a moment, you wondered if he hadn’t heard you.
Finally, Bakugo turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes flickering toward you.
His gaze traveled up and down, taking in the effort you’d put into your outfit—the way your cardigan fell over your tank top, the way your jeans fit perfectly, and the way you’d styled your hair just so.
His expression remained stoic, but his eyes lingered just a beat longer than usual before he turned back to the road.
“You look,” he began, his voice even though there was a slight edge of hesitation.
He glanced at you again, briefly meeting your expectant gaze before focusing back on the street.
You could see his jaw tighten slightly, as if he were searching for the right words. “Good.”
That was it. Just one single, lackluster word.
Your shoulders sank immediately, the corners of your mouth pulling down as disappointment washed over you.
You slumped back into the passenger seat, crossing your arms loosely over your chest and shifting your gaze out the window.
You had spent so much time getting ready, hoping that maybe this time, he’d notice—really notice—and say something that would make you feel special.
But “good” was all you got.
Bakugo, on the other hand, was far from unaffected, though he certainly didn’t show it.
His mind was racing, replaying the moment he’d glanced at you and the way your face had lit up with hope.
His knuckles tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and a bead of sweat formed at his temple as frustration with himself began to build.
His brows furrowed as he stole another glance at you.
You were staring out the window now, your expression unreadable but your body language screaming disappointment.
“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter.
You remained quiet, sinking further into your seat as the car rolled through the neighborhood streets.
Your fingers toyed with the edge of your cardigan, your mind replaying the moment over and over.
Maybe you’d set yourself up for disappointment.
Maybe this was just who he was—gruff, blunt, and not the type to shower you with compliments.
Still, you couldn’t help the small ache in your chest.
Bakugo’s jaw clenched as he continued to drive, the silence between you both growing heavier with each passing second.
───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────
The drive to Kirishima’s house was silent, the tension lingering like an unspoken weight between you and Bakugo.
He didn’t try to make conversation, and honestly, you weren’t sure you’d be able to respond even if he did.
Your disappointment sat heavy in your chest, though you were doing your best to push it down and keep your composure.
When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Kirishima’s house, Bakugo shifted into park and stepped out without a word, slamming his door behind him.
You sighed softly, your fingers gripping the strap of your purse as you reached for the handle of the passenger door.
Opening it, you slid out of the car, closing it gently behind you.
Bakugo was already several steps ahead, his strong strides carrying him toward the house without so much as a glance back at you.
You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight as you followed behind him, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your purse.
You felt small and distant, the space between you and Bakugo feeling far more than just physical.
As Bakugo reached the front porch, the sound of laughter and chatter drifted through the air, spilling out from behind the closed door.
The lively atmosphere of the gathering inside only seemed to amplify the quiet distance you felt from him.
Bakugo raised a hand and knocked on the door firmly, stepping back slightly as he waited.
You stopped a few paces behind him, your hands gripping your purse strap tightly as your mind raced.
You were determined to stand tall, to keep your emotions in check and not let anyone see how you were feeling.
The door swung open after a few seconds, revealing Kirishima’s grinning face.
His red hair was as wild as ever, and his cheerful energy was almost infectious.
“Yo, man! You made it!” Kirishima greeted Bakugo with a hearty slap on the shoulder before turning his attention to you. “Hey! Good to see you too!”
“Hey, Kiri,” you said softly, forcing a small smile as you stepped closer to the door.
“Come on in! Everyone’s already here,” Kirishima said, stepping aside to let the two of you in.
You followed Bakugo inside, the warmth and energy of the room enveloping you immediately.
Mina, Jirou, Denki, and Sero were sprawled out in the living room, laughing and chatting amongst themselves.
Mina was the first to notice your arrival, her eyes lighting up as she waved enthusiastically.
“Hey, you two!” Mina called out, jumping up from her seat and rushing over to you.
She wrapped you in a quick hug, her bubbly personality as bright as always. “You look so cute tonight! I love your outfit!”
“Thanks, Mina,” you replied, your smile faltering slightly as you glanced toward Bakugo.
He was already making his way toward the group, offering a brief nod of acknowledgment before settling into a seat near Sero.
Denki grinned, leaning back on the couch and tossing a chip into his mouth. “Look who finally decided to show up. We thought you might’ve bailed on us, Bakugo.”
“Shut it, Sparky,” Bakugo shot back, though there was no real bite in his tone.
As the group erupted into laughter, you found yourself lingering near the edge of the room, unsure where to place yourself.
Mina noticed your hesitation and grabbed your arm gently.
“Come sit with us! You can’t just stand there looking all pretty and quiet,” she teased, leading you toward the group.
You let her guide you, settling into a spot on the couch beside Jirou.
The lively conversation around you was a stark contrast to the swirling emotions in your chest, but you did your best to blend in, laughing when it felt appropriate and nodding along to the banter.
All the while, your eyes occasionally flicked toward Bakugo.
He was laughing with Sero and Denki, his usual gruff demeanor softened slightly by the presence of his friends.
But not once did he look your way, and that small detail gnawed at you more than you wanted to admit.
You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to focus on the moment and not the ache in your chest.
Tonight was about being with friends, and you were determined to make the most of it, even if things with Bakugo felt more complicated than ever.
You sat on the couch, nestled between Jirou and Mina, trying to focus on their lively conversation.
Bakugo was across the room, laughing with Sero and Denki as if the weight of the world didn’t exist.
You glanced at him briefly, your chest tightening before quickly averting your eyes back to Mina, who was animatedly recounting a story about a recent date with Kirishima.
“So, get this,” Mina said, her face lit with excitement. “Kiri and I went to this new arcade last week, right? And they had this claw machine he swore he could beat. It was filled with these little red dragon plushies—totally his thing, you know?”
Jirou smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Let me guess. He spent way too much money trying to win one?”
“Way too much!” Mina exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. “But he finally got it, and he was so proud of himself. It was adorable.” She giggled, her expression softening.
“Honestly, though, it’s not even about the claw machine. Kiri and I just… we have fun, you know? We go out, we talk about everything.”
Jirou nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s exactly how it is with me and Denki. He’s a dork, but he’s my dork. We go to concerts, hang out at record stores, and just… talk. Like, really talk. He tells me about his day, his dreams, even the dumb stuff that happens during patrols. It’s nice, being so connected.”
The warmth in their voices as they spoke about their relationships was palpable, and it made you feel like a shadow in their light.
You shifted in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the tightness in your throat.
“And you,” Mina said, turning her bright eyes toward you. “How are things with you and Bakugo?”
Jirou tilted her head, her expression curious but kind. “Yeah, how’s it going? You two seem solid.”
The question hit you like a punch to the gut.
You opened your mouth, but no words came out at first.
Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your cardigan, and you forced a smile, even as your chest felt like it was caving in.
“Oh, we’re fine,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to steady yourself. “Everything’s good. Really good.”
Mina beamed. “That’s great! You two are like, the power couple. I mean, he’s Bakugo—grumpy as hell but so in love with you. It’s obvious.”
“Totally,” Jirou added, nodding. “You balance each other out, right? He’s all intensity, and you’re like this calming presence. It works.”
You laughed softly, the sound hollow to your own ears. “Yeah, it works,” you echoed.
They bought it, smiling warmly at you before diving back into their own banter.
But inside, you felt like you were crumbling.
The truth was, things weren’t fine.
They hadn’t been for a while. Bakugo’s constant focus on work, his friends, and his own world had left you feeling like an afterthought.
You glanced at him again.
He was leaning back in his chair, laughing at something Denki said, his sharp features softened by the rare smile on his face.
It was a side of him you loved, but right now, it only made the ache in your chest worse.
Forcing yourself to stay present, you turned back to Mina and Jirou, nodding along to their conversation.
You couldn’t let them see the truth—not here, not now.
So you plastered on your smile and pretended everything was fine, even as the weight of your unspoken feelings threatened to crush you.
---
An hour passed as you, Mina, and Jirou chatted away about everything under the sun—relationships, patrol stories, and even a hilarious moment when Denki shocked himself trying to fix a broken lamp.
Despite the warmth of their company, a small part of you still felt detached, your earlier feelings lingering like a shadow.
Mina, ever the bubbly one, suddenly perked up. “Hey, I just thought of something! Let’s go to the other room and watch a movie! I’ve been dying to see that new romance everyone’s talking about. What do you think?”
Jirou shrugged, a hint of a smile on her face. “Sounds good to me. I could use a break from all the noise out there.”
You hesitated, but the thought of getting away from the others, even for a little while, seemed appealing. “Yeah, sure,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
The three of you made your way to a quieter room down the hall.
It was cozier than the bustling main area, with soft lighting and a plush couch that wrapped around most of the room.
The atmosphere immediately felt more intimate and calm, a perfect escape.
Mina grabbed the remote and flopped onto one side of the couch. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”
Jirou settled next to her, her legs tucked beneath her while you took the other end of the couch.
The movie started, its opening scenes filled with charming banter and budding romance.
The three of you fell into a comfortable silence, the story drawing you in.
As the movie progressed, the lighthearted moments gave way to more emotional scenes.
The characters faced challenges, their love tested by misunderstandings and miscommunications.
Then, the pivotal scene arrived.
The male lead stood in the rain, his face etched with regret as he argued with the female lead.
Her voice broke as she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t get it! I feel invisible to you!” she cried, her words hitting too close to home for your comfort.
Your chest tightened as you watched her crumble, her emotions raw and unfiltered.
The male lead, realizing his mistake, stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed against his chest.
Your heart ached, the scene striking a chord that you couldn’t ignore.
The floodgates opened, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face.
Your breathing grew shallow, and your palms began to sweat as you clutched the couch cushion beside you.
Mina and Jirou, engrossed in the movie, didn’t seem to notice your reaction at first.
But as you sniffled quietly, Jirou glanced over, her expression softening. “Hey, you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle.
You quickly wiped your cheeks, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… really emotional,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.
Mina turned her head, concern flickering in her eyes. “It’s okay to cry, you know. Scenes like this get me every time,” she said, offering you a reassuring smile.
You nodded, appreciating their kindness but feeling exposed nonetheless.
The movie continued, but your mind was elsewhere.
The female lead’s words echoed in your head, intertwining with your own unspoken feelings.
“I feel invisible to you.”
The weight of those words settled in your chest, and though you tried to focus on the screen, the tears wouldn’t stop.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep it together, but the truth was, you felt more vulnerable than ever.
The tears came harder, no longer quiet sniffles but soft, trembling sobs that you couldn’t hold back.
The scene on the screen blurred as your vision clouded with tears, and your chest felt impossibly heavy.
Mina and Jirou both turned toward you, their expressions shifting from casual concern to alarm.
“Whoa, hey… are you okay?” Jirou asked, leaning closer, her voice gentle but tinged with worry.
Mina’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line.
She grabbed the remote and paused the movie, the room falling into silence except for your shaky breaths.
She scooted closer to you, her hand resting lightly on your arm.
“Alright,” Mina said firmly, her tone serious but warm. “What’s going on? This isn’t just about the movie, is it?”
You shook your head quickly, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, but they just kept coming.
“It’s nothing,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jirou gave you a skeptical look. “Come on, don’t do that. You’re obviously upset.”
Mina nodded, her grip on your arm tightening just slightly in encouragement. “Yeah, we’re here for you. So whatever it is, just say it.”
For a moment, you hesitated.
The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and you didn’t want to burden them with your feelings.
But the way they looked at you, genuinely concerned and ready to listen, broke down the last of your defenses.
“It’s… it’s Bakugo,” you finally admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. “I just… I feel like we’re drifting apart.”
Mina’s eyes softened, and Jirou tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful.
“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Mina asked, leaning forward, her tone gentle now.
You took a shaky breath, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I don’t know… it’s like he’s always so busy, and when he’s home, it’s like I’m not even there. He doesn’t notice when I try to do things for him. I cooked dinner tonight, hoping we could eat together and talk, but he just brushed it off and left to hang out with you guys.”
Mina’s face fell, a pang of guilt crossing her features. Jirou’s lips pressed together, her brow furrowing.
“I know he’s a hero, and I know his job is demanding, but… I just feel so invisible to him sometimes. Like I’m not a priority,” you continued, your voice trembling. “And I’m trying so hard to be okay with it, but it’s just… it’s hard.”
Mina reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize things were like this.”
Jirou nodded, her gaze serious. “That sounds really tough. You shouldn’t have to feel like that, especially not with someone who’s supposed to care about you.”
You sniffled, grateful for their support, but still feeling the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I love him, but… it feels like he’s slipping away.”
Mina wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting hug. “You’re not alone in this, okay? We’ll figure it out. And honestly, Bakugo needs to hear this too. He probably doesn’t even realize how much he’s hurting you.”
Jirou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s not exactly the most emotionally aware guy, but he cares about you. You just have to tell him how you feel.”
Their words brought a small measure of comfort, but the thought of confronting Bakugo about your feelings still terrified you.
You knew they were right, though. Something had to change.
You sat there in Mina’s embrace, your tears slowly subsiding, though your chest still felt tight.
The weight of their words lingered, and you knew they were right.
As terrifying as it seemed, you had to talk to Bakugo.
But how? He wasn’t exactly the type to sit down and have a heart-to-heart.
Mina pulled back slightly, her warm hands resting on your shoulders as she looked you in the eye. “You have to tell him,” she said firmly.
“And not in a ‘hinting’ kind of way. Lay it all out. He’s not good at picking up subtle stuff.”
Jirou nodded, leaning back on the couch. “Yeah, Bakugo’s not gonna magically figure it out. But if you’re honest with him, I think he’ll listen. He’s stubborn, but he’s not heartless.”
You sniffled, wiping your face with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I just… I don’t want to come off as needy or like I don’t support him. I know how hard he works.”
Mina sighed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. This isn’t about being needy. This is about being in a relationship where you feel seen and loved. You’re allowed to have needs, too.”
Jirou added, “And honestly? If he doesn’t get that, then that’s on him. Relationships are about both people putting in effort. It’s not all on you.”
You nodded slowly, their words sinking in.
It wasn’t easy to hear, but deep down, you knew they were right.
You couldn’t keep bottling everything up and hoping things would magically improve.
Mina smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Look, Bakugo might be a hothead, but he’s not a bad guy. If he knew you were feeling this way, I think he’d do something about it. But you’ve got to give him the chance to step up.”
You sighed, fiddling with the strap of your purse. “I guess I’ll try talking to him later… when we’re alone.”
“Good,” Mina said with a nod, her tone encouraging. “And if you need backup, you know where to find us.”
Jirou smirked slightly. “Yeah, we’ll set him straight if he doesn’t get the message.”
The three of you shared a small laugh, the tension easing just a bit.
Mina grabbed the remote and turned the movie off completely, standing up and stretching.
“Alright, let’s get back to the others before they start wondering what we’re up to.”
You nodded, standing up and smoothing out your clothes.
As the three of you made your way back to the main living room, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you.
Anxiety, hope, and determination all competed for space in your heart.
As you stepped into the room, Bakugo was standing near the corner with Kirishima, laughing at something Sero had said.
His usual sharp smirk was etched on his face, but there was something different in the way his eyes flickered toward you, a hint of something unreadable beneath his confident exterior.
For a moment, you just watched him, debating how you’d navigate the rest of the evening while the conversation with Mina and Jirou still echoed in your mind.
What you didn’t know, however, was that Bakugo had heard everything.
It wasn’t intentional.
On his way to the bathroom earlier, he had walked past the closed door of the cozy room where you and the girls had been talking.
At first, he hadn’t thought much of it—just chatter from Mina and Jirou, nothing unusual.
But then he caught the sound of your voice, trembling slightly, and his feet had stopped.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Really, he hadn’t.
But something in your tone made him pause, leaning against the hallway wall just out of sight.
He listened as Mina and Jirou pressed you about how things were going between the two of you.
He heard the way your voice wavered when you said everything was fine—so unconvincing that even he could tell it was a lie.
And then came the confession.
You weren’t happy.
You felt ignored, neglected.
You felt like he didn’t see you anymore.
The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
You, the person he cared about most, felt like you were slipping away, and he hadn’t even noticed.
His knuckles clenched, and his jaw tightened as he leaned his head back against the wall.
Guilt surged through him, hot and unrelenting. He wasn’t great with emotions; he knew that.
But hearing you spill your heart out to your friends, feeling like he didn’t care enough—it stung more than he wanted to admit.
When Mina and Jirou encouraged you to talk to him, he heard the hesitation in your voice, the fear of being seen as needy or overbearing.
It made his chest ache. You should never feel like that—not with him.
He had walked away before you left the room, needing a moment to collect himself.
By the time he rejoined the group, his mind was racing.
As you stepped into the living room, Mina nudged you gently with her elbow. “You’ve got this,” she whispered before heading to the group, leaving you to take a deep breath and square your shoulders.
Bakugo, standing near the corner, glanced your way.
His sharp smirk remained, but his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual, softening for the briefest second before he turned back to Kirishima and the others.
He didn’t say anything, but in the back of his mind, he was already planning.
He wouldn’t let you feel like this again. Not if he could help it.
---
The night had wound down, and one by one, everyone began saying their goodbyes.
Mina and Kirishima gave you tight hugs, Mina giving you a reassuring smile as if to silently remind you of the conversation you’d had.
Jirou patted your arm, her subtle way of showing she was rooting for you.
Bakugo, meanwhile, was his usual self—casual nods, a few gruff “See ya’s,” and a fist bump for Kirishima.
His energy seemed as steady as ever, though you noticed the way his eyes flickered toward you more than once, a slight crease in his brow that he didn’t quite hide.
As the two of you made your way to his car, the quietness of the night enveloped you.
The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and the sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel filled the silence.
You felt Bakugo’s presence ahead of you, his confident stride unchanging, though he occasionally glanced back to make sure you were keeping up.
When you reached the car, he pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the doors, and slid into the driver’s seat.
You followed, gently closing the passenger door behind you and placing your bag on the floor by your feet.
The faint scent of leather and his cologne filled the space, a scent you usually found comforting.
Without a word, Bakugo started the engine.
The low rumble of the car filled the stillness as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street.
His hands rested on the wheel, firm but relaxed, his eyes trained on the road ahead.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but it was the same stoic mask he always wore.
The weight of the evening felt heavy in your chest, and despite the warmth of the car, you felt a chill run through you.
The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you.
You wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck in your throat.
You fidgeted with your fingers, your gaze shifting between the passing streetlights outside and Bakugo’s profile.
He hadn’t said much since you left Kirishima’s house, and it left you wondering if he’d noticed the distance between you—or if it even mattered to him at all.
Bakugo’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel as he drove, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was working through something in his mind.
His gaze remained steady, but every now and then, you noticed his eyes flicker toward you, though he said nothing.
The silence was deafening, and with every passing second, it felt like the space between you grew larger.
Finally, unable to take the tension anymore, you shifted in your seat and let out a soft sigh, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Thanks for driving,” you said, your tone polite but distant.
He grunted in response, a low “Yeah,” his focus still on the road.
The quiet settled again, heavier this time, and you found yourself staring out the window, the lights of the city blurring past.
You wanted to say more, to breach the gap between you, but something held you back.
Bakugo, meanwhile, stole another glance at you, his expression unreadable.
He wanted to speak, to address the weight in the air, but the words felt foreign to him.
For now, he just drove, the road stretching ahead, both of you caught in your own thoughts.
The car hummed softly as the city lights flickered past, but the silence between you and Bakugo felt louder than anything else.
You leaned your head against the cool glass of the window, your eyes fixed on the blurred scenery.
Your hand rested on your lap, fingers nervously fidgeting with your nails as your thoughts raced.
What had started as disappointment had now spiraled into uncertainty.
You couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation with Mina and Jirou, nor the growing chasm between you and Bakugo.
You’d tried so hard to keep it together, but being here, so close yet feeling so far, made it even harder.
Bakugo kept his eyes on the road, his grip on the wheel firm.
Inside, he was battling a storm of emotions.
The echoes of your words from earlier replayed in his mind, mingling with the snippets of the conversation he’d overheard at Kirishima’s.
“I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”
He wasn’t good with words.
Hell, he wasn’t even good at feelings most of the time. But he wasn’t stupid—he could feel the distance, and it frustrated him because he didn’t know how to close it.
His crimson eyes flickered to you briefly.
The way you sat there, so quiet and withdrawn, tugged at something deep in his chest.
He hated seeing you like this, especially knowing he’d been the one to make you feel this way.
After what felt like forever, Bakugo’s resolve finally cracked.
His hand hesitated on the wheel, fingers tightening for a moment before he let out a sharp breath.
Slowly, almost cautiously, he reached over.
His hand covered yours, warm and slightly rough, the weight of it grounding you.
You blinked, startled by the sudden contact, and turned your head to look at him.
Bakugo didn’t meet your gaze right away.
His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead, his jaw tight, like he was bracing himself for something.
His thumb shifted slightly, brushing against your fingers in an awkward but earnest gesture.
“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant. “Stop doin’ that.”
You stared at him, confused. “Doing what?”
“Fidgetin’ like that,” he muttered, finally glancing at you for a split second before looking back at the road. “You’ll mess up your nails or somethin’.”
His words were gruff, almost dismissive, but the way his hand stayed on yours told you there was more to it.
He wasn’t just talking about your fidgeting—he was trying, in his own clumsy way, to tell you he cared.
Your chest tightened as you looked down at your joined hands.
The warmth of his touch, the slight awkwardness of the gesture—it all made your emotions bubble up again, but this time, they weren’t as heavy.
“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t,” he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. “Don’t say it. Not here, not like this.”
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and leaned back against the seat.
For the first time that evening, the silence between you didn’t feel quite as suffocating.
The car came to an abrupt stop at a red light, but the tension in the car felt like it had slammed into a wall at full speed.
Bakugo’s hand hovered over the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it.
His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but your anger was a storm now, and it couldn’t be contained.
“Seriously?” you demanded, your voice sharp and trembling. “If not here, then where? If not now, then when?”
Your hand yanked away from his, the warmth of his touch replaced by the cold sting of frustration. “You always say that, Bakugo. You always brush our problems away. You… you brush me off like I’m some kind of bug.”
His eyes darted to you, his lips parting as if to defend himself, but you didn’t give him the chance.
“You treat me like I’m not worth your time,” you continued, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you even know what I was doing before you came home? I was cooking dinner. For you. For us.”
Your hands shook as you gestured toward him, your words pouring out in a rush. “I did all of that so we could talk, so we could try to fix this. Just so I could know—know for sure—that I mean something to you.”
The light turned green, and Bakugo hit the gas with a little more force than necessary, his jaw tight as he stayed silent.
But you couldn’t stop now.
“But of course,” you spat, your voice rising, “your friends are more important! Work, training, hangouts—all of it is more important than me!”
The car swerved slightly as Bakugo’s grip faltered, and he shot you a glance, his brows furrowed in frustration and guilt. “But they’re not! You’re more important—”
“Don’t give me that crap!” you cut him off, your voice almost a shout now. “If I’m so important, then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you make time for everyone and everything else but not for me? Huh? Answer me!”
Bakugo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His silence was deafening, and it only stoked the fire inside you.
“Why, Katsuki?” you pressed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do I have to fight so hard to feel like I matter to you?”
The car pulled into your driveway, and Bakugo threw it into park, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly it looked like he might snap it in two.
For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the engine.
Finally, Bakugo exhaled sharply and turned to you, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of guilt, frustration, and something else—something softer, something that looked a lot like regret.
“You do matter,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You mean everything to me, damn it. I just… I don’t know how to show it.”
But you shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “That’s not enough, Katsuki. It’s not enough to just say it. I need to feel it. And right now, I don’t.”
Your words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, as Bakugo stared at you, his expression unreadable.
For once, the explosive hero had no words, and the silence between you felt like it could split the world in two.
Your chest heaved as the emotions you’d been holding in for so long spilled over.
Tears streamed down your face, your voice trembling and raw as you finally let everything out.
“Why couldn’t you have just spent time with me?” you cried, your voice breaking as your gaze locked on Bakugo.
He flinched at the pain in your voice but said nothing, his hands clenching into tight fists on his lap.
“Why couldn’t you see that while you were having fun, I was feeling miserable?!” you continued, your words cutting through the silence like shards of glass.
Bakugo’s eyes darted toward you, filled with a mix of guilt and helplessness, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.
“Listen, Katsuki...” you began, your voice softer but no less intense. “I love you. So much it hurts.” Your words hung in the air, trembling with sincerity. “But it’s starting to feel like... like you don’t feel the same.”
His head snapped up at that, his crimson eyes wide and frantic. “That’s not true!” he blurted, his voice rough and unsteady. “Don’t—don’t say that, alright?”
But you shook your head, your tears falling harder now. “Then why does it feel like I’m always fighting for your attention? Fighting for a moment of your time?”
Your voice cracked, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together.
Bakugo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
His jaw tightened, and his gaze fell to his lap, his fingers gripping his knees so hard it looked painful.
You could see the frustration, the guilt, the turmoil swirling in his expression, but it wasn’t enough.
It didn’t fix the ache in your heart.
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Like I’m not enough for you. Like I’m not your priority.”
Bakugo’s head snapped up again, his eyes blazing with emotion. “You are my priority!” he insisted, his voice desperate now.
“You’re everything to me, alright? I just... I just don’t know how to handle all this shit sometimes!”
His voice cracked at the end, and for the first time, you saw something in him you rarely did—vulnerability.
He looked at you like he wanted to say a million things but didn’t know where to start.
But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
“Then show me, Katsuki,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “If I mean so much to you, then show me. Because words aren’t enough anymore.”
His breath hitched, and for a moment, the only sound in the car was the faint hum of the engine.
Bakugo looked at you, really looked at you, and for once, the explosive hero seemed completely lost.
Bakugo’s chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths as he stared at you, his crimson eyes shadowed with guilt and frustration.
He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to die in his throat.
His hands clenched tighter on his lap, and he turned his gaze to the steering wheel, as if looking at you was too much to bear.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
You could feel your heart breaking all over again as you watched him struggle to say something—anything—that could make it better.
“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice low and strained. “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend.”
The admission startled you.
Your breath hitched, and you blinked through your tears as you waited for him to continue.
“I’ve been so focused on everything else—work, training, trying to keep up with everyone—that I didn’t realize what it was doing to you. To us.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion rough and frustrated. “And that’s on me.”
His voice trembled slightly, and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sharp thud breaking the tense quiet. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. Like you don’t matter.”
You watched him, your tears still falling, but something in his voice tugged at your heart.
It wasn’t just guilt; it was desperation.
“But you do, alright?” he said, turning to face you fully now. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, raw and unguarded.
“You matter more than anything else in my life. I just... I don’t know how to balance it all without screwing it up.”
His hands trembled as they rested on his thighs, and you realized how much it was costing him to admit this.
Bakugo Katsuki, the man who always seemed so sure of himself, so strong and unshakable, was unraveling in front of you.
“You’re not the problem, alright? I am,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us. Just... don’t give up on me yet.”
Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but the pain you’d been carrying for so long still lingered.
You looked at him, your tears blurring your vision, and took a shaky breath.
“Katsuki, I’m not asking for perfection,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m asking for you to try. To make me feel like I’m worth it. Like we’re worth it.”
He nodded, his jaw tight as he swallowed hard.
“I will,” he said, his voice firm despite the emotion in his eyes. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll be better. For you.”
You stared at him, searching his face for sincerity, and what you saw there made something in your chest loosen.
He looked at you like you were his whole world—like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.
For the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. It was small, fragile, but it was there.
“Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Bakugo nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can.”
The car fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy or suffocating.
It was filled with unspoken promises, with the beginnings of something better.
And for now, that was enough.
---
Bakugo’s hand enveloped yours, firm yet gentle, as if he was anchoring himself to you.
The warmth of his grasp communicated what his words had struggled to convey earlier—a need, a desire to hold on to you no matter what.
The silence in the car was filled with unspoken understanding as you both sat there, the weight of the evening settling between you.
When the car finally pulled into your driveway, you barely had time to move before Bakugo was already out of the driver’s seat.
He strode purposefully around the car, his movements sharp yet filled with intent.
You blinked in surprise as he opened the passenger door, crouching down to your level.
His crimson eyes met yours, raw and unguarded. “You mean a lot to me,” he began, his voice steady but thick with emotion.
“So much... and I’m sorry for not showing you.”
Your breath caught in your throat as his words tumbled out, each one more heartfelt than the last.
“I’m sorry for not replying. I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for not showing up,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned closer.
“I promise, though, from now on... everything I do, I’ll do it with you on my mind.”
His hands found their way to your thighs, a touch so gentle and deliberate it sent a shiver through you.
It wasn’t just an apology—it was a plea, a vow.
“I promise you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “that from now on, I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel loved. So please, don’t give up on me. Please, don’t lose hope.”
Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, the rawness of his confession.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you managed a small, wavering smile as you placed your hand over his.
“You swear?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.
His grip on your thigh tightened just slightly, his crimson eyes boring into yours with unwavering determination.
“I promise,” he said, his voice firm yet soft.
That was all you needed to hear.
A small, genuine smile spread across your lips as you nodded.
For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight lifting off your chest.
After a moment, Bakugo stepped back slightly, holding out his hand to you.
You placed your hand in his, and he helped you out of the car with a gentleness that contrasted his usual brash demeanor.
Once you were both standing, he didn’t hesitate—he pulled you into a tight, almost desperate hug.
His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if he was afraid you’d slip away.
His head rested against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away.
“I missed you,” you whispered, your fingers threading gently through his spiky blonde hair.
“I missed you more,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice low and filled with emotion.
You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the world around you fading into insignificance.
It was as if time had paused, giving you both a chance to reconnect, to heal.
When he finally pulled back, his hands still rested on your waist, and his gaze locked onto yours.
The intensity in his eyes took your breath away, and before you could say anything, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.
It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an apology, a promise, a declaration.
His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if to ground himself.
You responded just as passionately, pouring every ounce of love, frustration, and hope into the kiss.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.
His crimson eyes softened as he looked at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “For not giving up on me.”
You smiled back, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
He chuckled softly, his voice lighter than it had been all evening. “I won’t. I swear.”
In that moment, standing together in the driveway under the soft glow of the porch light, you felt something shift between you.
A new beginning, built on honesty and love. And for the first time in a long time, you believed things could truly get better.
ADULT BAKUGO FANFICTION
"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?" - 𝐊. 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨
𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨: This story is Slowburn, follows a couple of months after the epilogue, isn...
💙🔥 ━ Dabi is no stranger to bringing “strays” over to the league hideout or at some abandoned warehouse to… “play” for the lack of a better word.
💙🔥 ━ The rest of the league don’t really care about Dabi’s sexcapades since the strays he picks up don’t even have the chance to stay long enough to get in the way of anything.
💙🔥 ━ They were used and tossed like a discarded fleshlight after a single use. No repeats.
💙🔥 ━ At maximum, the “playing” would only last 30 minutes. And 29.5 of those minutes are spent on the most hardcore screaming, filthiest, wall-banging sex that even God turns away at what he created the human body for.
💙🔥 ━ Toga calls him a gross fuckboy.
💙🔥 ━ Twice thinks of him as an unhinged sex god that he worships and often sickens him.
💙🔥 ━ Shigaraki doesn’t really give a fuck since he bought noise-cancelling headphones.
💙🔥 ━ As long Dabi isn’t fucking in the common room or where they eat, Dabi could be turning his “playmates” into fried tempura for all he cared.
💙🔥 ━ Now, what happens to these strays before and after the fun depends on Dabi. The strays he takes in either scream in horror once he strips off his disguise and coverings, and when they try to flee, they are quickly dealt with.
💙🔥 ━ And the ones that stay get their brains fucked out and tossed aside with the scars to tell the story.
💙🔥 ━ Dabi’s boredom for new strays is faster than his “love” for them.
💙🔥 ━ Love.
💙🔥 ━ Love was never meant for a Todoroki.
💙🔥 ━ Even the word meant nothing to him. He refuses to become weak and pitiful like his mother or worse–
💙🔥 ━ An abusive bastard like his father.
💙🔥 ━ Love was never meant for Dabi.
💙🔥 ━ Until he caught you.
💙🔥 ━ The moment Dabi met you, you were just like any other stray. All alone. Standing on the corner of a convenient store in clothes that didn’t fit the weather around you. Staring off into the street, completely obviously to your surroundings. Another perfect stray to capture.
💙🔥 ━ What he thought would be another wall-denting, bed-breaking fuck to give him that sprinkle dopamine and oxytocin that distracts him from that feeling that he isn’t a fucked-up person turned into an extreme obsession he couldn’t explain.
💙🔥 ━ At first, he thought he was just the sex.
💙🔥 ━ You were definitely not a selfish lover.
💙🔥 ━ The strays he fucked were prime pillow princesses.
💙🔥 ━ You had this man's knees buckling, toes clenching, back arched so far sweat was dripping onto the bed sheets it turned his bed into a pool.
💙🔥 ━ You were giving this man the sloppiest of toppy.
💙🔥 ━ Each orgasm racked his body and he swore he saw the blinding face of God. He felt like he should be paying you for your service.
💙🔥 ━ He came more with you than with any other stray.
💙🔥 ━ You popped a few of this man’s staples, that’s how amazing you were.
💙🔥 ━ Sex with you was like a drug. So addicting. Just one more hit and he would get bored and move on.
💙🔥 ━ At least… that’s what he thought.
💙🔥 ━ After another night of the most glorious fuck he ever had, he woke up to himself all alone on the cold concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse that you two made into a secret love hotel. That was the silent agreement. You always knew when the fun was over and left without any parting words or hesitation, even at the hideout. None of the members of the league had ever seen you, just heard you. You were like a succubus that disappeared the moment the sun peeked out. That also made you completely different from the others.
💙🔥 ━ As he peeled himself off the cold floor, he noticed a white bag that wasn’t there yesterday. An inviting smell wafted into his nose and he immediately clocked it.
💙🔥 ━ Food. Breakfast. Did you buy this for him?
💙🔥 ━ He saw a post-it note on the container of food and read it: 'Your stomach rumbled when you were asleep. It was so cute! Eat well♡'
💙🔥 ━ This simple act did more to him than any amount of therapy could ever do.
💙🔥 ━ Ever since then, his thoughts revolved around you.
💙🔥 ━ He needed to find you again.
💙🔥 ━ And when he did… he’d cage you up and keep you like the last animal facing extinction.
💙🔥 ━ You were now his and his only.
💙🔥 ━ Dabi had never done this before. He doesn’t know how to reach out to a stray. Once you left, he’d often find you roaming the city out of pure coincidence and hook up then and there. He had no way of reaching out to you. He never asked for contact info or where you lived or what you did throughout the day. He didn’t even know your last name. He didn’t care. Now, he was driving himself crazy waiting for you at the places he often found you. But, you never showed up.
💙🔥 ━ The other members started noticing the sporadic changes he made. He started pacing. Picking at his burned bottom lip until it bled. Talking to himself and asking weird questions about random spots throughout the city. Losing his temper and scorching walls and other objects in the hideout. They had no idea the hold you had on this man. Shigaraki still didn’t care.
💙🔥 ━ Dabi exhausted himself trying to find you.
💙🔥 ━ He found you while on his search. You were sleeping on a park bench in a barely-lit section of the park. Wearing the same clothes you always wore. Clothes that didn’t fit the weather. No blanket. Nothing to protect yourself. Painfully obvious to your surroundings.
💙🔥 ━ Dabi felt like his heart was going to burst.
💙🔥 ━ Dabi approached you like a predator hunting for his food. The park is completely empty. No one around to witness. He nudged you awake, taking mental pictures as you stirred and blinked tiredly.
💙🔥 ━ You thought it was just another cop telling you you can’t sleep here. But, it wasn’t a cop. It was Dabi.
💙🔥 ━ In his black hoodie and mask pulled down to his chin. Crouched down to your level. He had an unbridled wide smile. You’d never seen it before.
💙🔥 ━ Not this wide.
💙🔥 ━ “Found you, baby~”
💙🔥 ━ “Hm? …Oh, hey Dabi…” you greeted, wiping the sleepiness from your eyes. “What’re you doing here? Are you okay?”
💙🔥 ━ Dabi couldn’t stop the waterfall of words and accusations coming from his mouth. He couldn’t stop himself. Everything from how you couldn’t run away from him to why you were avoiding him to who were fucking besides him. You are his. No one else's. Dabi didn’t mean any of the words he was saying, but he couldn’t stop it. It was like a dam that broke that was within the city limits. Nothing could stop it. It got to the point where he wasn’t making any sense. Like every thought was getting into a car wreck build-up and debris is just flying.
💙🔥 ━ “You hate me, don’t you?! I’m just a fuck to you, huh?! Running away from me! I’ll break you! I’ll kill you! You’re nothing! No one would notice! It would be so easy… Ashes… Is that why you're here? To fuck someone else?! Did they leave you like a cum dumpster? Who was it? Why aren’t you saying anything? ‘Cuz I’m right, aren’t I?! No one can fuck you like me! Is that all you are?! A fuck?! Fuck you! You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!You’re mine!”
💙🔥 ━ You could barely hang on to his words. They just kept coming and it didn’t help that you just woke up.
💙🔥 ━ Dabi was gripping onto you so tightly, almost like you were going to disappear from his sight like a ghost. Your arms started to ache where he was gripping. You looked down and saw his hands.
💙🔥 ━ They were shaking.
💙🔥 ━ Then, you looked up and took a good look at his face.
💙🔥 ━ Sadness. Anger.
💙🔥 ━ Fear.
💙🔥 ━ Taking a good look now, his whole body was shaking as he just repeated himself over and over and over again.
💙🔥 ━ You gently grabbed his face and he immediately stopped.
💙🔥 ━ He stared at you with unknown certainty. Your face had a sullen expression. His stomach dropped to his ass as his rambling finally caught up with him. For once, his words were caught in his throat. He wanted to apologize. Beg for forgiveness. But, he couldn’t.
💙🔥 ━ Would you leave him? Scream and run away like everyone else in his life? Would you see him as a monster? Would he look like his father in your eyes?
💙🔥 ━ Would you look like his father in his?
💙🔥 ━ But, you didn’t.
💙🔥 ━ You rested your temple on his.
💙🔥 ━ “I’m sorry for leaving you alone. You must’ve been scared.”
💙🔥 ━ Boom. Just like that, you flipped his switch.
💙🔥 ━ If Dabi was capable of crying, he’d be a sobbing mess. However, just because he couldn’t cry doesn’t mean his body doesn’t follow suit. Choked sobs left his throat as he held you close, loosening his grip on your arms a tiny bit, but still holding you close.
💙🔥 ━ “Y-You… I-”
💙🔥 ━ “Yes yes. I’m yours. I won’t go anywhere until you tell me to.”
💙🔥 ━ He didn’t want to let you go.
💙🔥 ━ He refused to let you go.
💙🔥 ━ “You ever run away from me, I’ll burn this fucking place to the ground.”
💙🔥 ━ “I don’t like running. It makes me sweat.”
💙🔥 ━ When the other members of the league start seeing you around for the first time, it was surprising.
💙🔥 ━ Like stated before, Dabi’s strays didn’t stay long at the LOV hideout. Yet here you were. Glued to Dabi’s side.
💙🔥 ━ “She’s going to be staying here. Don’t like it, you can suck my dick.”
💙🔥 ━ “Hi.”
💙🔥 ━ “Don’t talk to shit, Y/N. It's gross.”
💙🔥 ━ Dabi also wasn’t shy about showing others his graphic PDA.
💙🔥 ━ Making out, groping, rubbing, bite marks, hickeys, etc.. Anything to mark you as his property.
💙🔥 ━ Before the others knew it, you’ve been there for nearly a month!
💙🔥 ━ The rest of the league couldn’t believe it. They didn’t know a damn thing about you! Anytime you were in the vicinity with any of the others, Dabi would shield you away and rush you off back to his room. Like some doll, you weren’t allowed to even say a single word to anyone else or do anything. They wanted to talk to you!
💙🔥 ━ Luckily for Shigaraki and Twice, the opportunity couldn’t have come at a better time.
💙🔥 ━ The two of them walked into the cooking area one morning after a delicious aroma spread throughout the hideout. That’s where they saw you without Dabi by your side. Making something over the stove. They both gave a quick survey to their surroundings and cautiously approached you.
💙🔥 ━ “Um… hello?” Twice is the first to talk to you.
💙🔥 ━ “Hi.” You barely glanced up at them to greet them, too focused on what you were making.
💙🔥 ━ “Sooo… whatcha makin’?”
💙🔥 ━ “Jumbo Super Fluffy Pancakes.”
💙🔥 ━ Welp. That was it.
💙🔥 ━ You sure don’t talk much.
💙🔥 ━ Whether that was due to Dabi’s influence or social ineptitude, you didn’t leave much of an impression outside Dabi’s bedroom.
💙🔥 ━ Shigaraki and Twice watched as you stirred batter in a bowl and flip pancakes simultaneously with little to no emotion or speak. You’re already in Shigaraki's good graces in that regard, but he needed to know something.
💙🔥 ━ “What’s your deal?”
💙🔥 ━ “Woah Shiggs!”
💙🔥 ━ “No, seriously. Is it just the sex or are you, like, insane? Or maybe just severely mentally ill?”
💙🔥 ━ “…”
💙🔥 ━ “…”
💙🔥 ━ “… Okay, yeah, I wanna know too. I gotta bet goin’ on with Toga. Is he actually good or are you just a really confident person with amazing acting skills?”
💙🔥 ━ “…Does there need to be a reason other than sex?”
💙🔥 ━ “With Dabi? Yes.” Shigaraki answered.
💙🔥 ━ “Absolutely. 1000%.” Twice added.
💙🔥 ━ “Well, you’re wrong.” you answered nonchalantly, pouring new batter on the pan. “There’s more to Dabi than just his abs, gorgeous eyes, rough hair, and 9 inch dick.”
💙🔥 ━ “9 INCHES?!!”
💙🔥 ━ “So, what is it?”
💙🔥 ━ You stared at the pancake mix cooking in the pan for a moment and looked up.
💙🔥 ━ “He makes me happy.”
💙🔥 ━ You answered simply, leaving the two members stunlocked.
💙🔥 ━ “He… makes you… happy?”
💙🔥 ━ “Mhm.”
💙🔥 ━ “Dabi? Makes you happy? Dabi?”
💙🔥 ━ “Extremely.” You had a faint smile on your lips.
💙🔥 ━ The two of them stood shocked as they watched you flip pancakes in silence. How could that… that… burn-ward victim with beef jerky stapled on him make you happy?! If it wasn’t the sex or his… above average organ… then what was it?! His personality?! That’s impossible! The moment Dabi stepped foot into the hideout, Shigaraki couldn’t stand him! So, how could you?
💙🔥 ━ “HOW?!” Shigaraki exacerbated. He had to know.
💙🔥 ━ As you slid the final pancake onto the plate and grabbed the bag of powdered sugar, you faced the two men.
💙🔥 ━ “Did Dabi tell you about my quirk?”
💙🔥 ━ “Well, I like the way my skin feels and how my body doesn’t crumble to ash, so no. I get enough of that with my quirk.”
💙🔥 ━ “Yeah, and Dabi gets this crazed “I’ll-murder-you-and-use-the-ashes-as-coffee” twitch in his eye whenever we glance at you.”
💙🔥 ━ You moved over to the wooden counter space connected to the stove and hovered your hand over the counter. Slowly, a drop of liquid dangled from your finger. The liquid dropped onto the counter and Shigaraki and Twice watched as the liquid started to… bubble? The bubbling liquid spread and sizzled and they watched as it ate at the counter right in front of their eyes, leaving a bullet-sized hole in the counter.
💙🔥 ━ “Wooooahhh.” They gasped in amazement.
💙🔥 ━ “You have an acid quirk?”
💙🔥 ━ “Close. It’s a cyanide quirk.”
💙🔥 ━ “Cyanide?!”
💙🔥 ━ Shigaraki and Twice backed up a bit.
💙🔥 ━ “Relax. I can control it easily now. Growing up, not so much.” You dusted the pancakes with powdered sugar and gave two plates to the members. “I was actually homeless when I met Dabi. You can’t get a job with a volatile quirk. Did you know that if you have a life-threatening quirk and don’t put it on your resume, you get wrestled to the ground, gagged, and shoved into an iron-ledded holding cell?”
💙🔥 ━ “I… did not know that…” Twice answered.
💙🔥 ━ “Well, that’s what happens. Then, you get like some flag on your person so whenever someone does a background check on you, they can immediately turn you away. It doesn’t matter if you're fit for the job or need money to eat or pay rent or that you got kicked out your house at 13. You’re a monster. A freak. A lonely dog covered in fleas and mange that no one wants to look at.”
💙🔥 ━ “Join the club.” Shigaraki sighed. He knew that feeling all too well, living on the streets as a young child and having the same people who preached that they care to avoid his gaze and calls for help.
💙🔥 ━ “It’s why I take extra precautions with my quirk. I try not to sweat too much, I wear clothing that’s least likely to get damaged, and I stay away from people. Until Dabi.”
💙🔥 ━ Shigaraki and Twice shared a look as they saw the lovey-dovey hearts in your eyes. As they munched on your surprisingly amazing pancakes, they saw what the two of you shared. What made you want to stay despite his disgusting monopolization of you.
💙🔥 ━ It’s love.
💙🔥 ━ “You… really love him, huh?”
💙🔥 ━ “More than anything in the world.”
💙🔥 ━ “You what more than anything in the world?”
💙🔥 ━ Heads whipped towards the door and there stood Dabi, in his sweatpants and a pissed off look on his face.
💙🔥 ━ “Good morning, Dabi.”
💙🔥 ━ “I asked you a question.” he asked harshly, clenching his teeth. He stormed into the room and grabbed your arm. “You what more than anything in the world?”
💙🔥 ━ You remained unfazed, seemingly having been through this before.
💙🔥 ━ “W-We were just–” Twice was immediately cut off with Dabi slamming his fist on the kitchen counter, flames flickering from his fist.
💙🔥 ━ “NOBODY WAS FUCKING TALKING TO YOU, SCHIZO!”
💙🔥 ━ Twice quickly shut himself up by shoving the pancakes in his mouth. Which were actually delicious so he’s not too mad at Dabi’s freakout.
💙🔥 ━ “Chill out–” Shigaraki was too cut off.
💙🔥 ━ “If I wanted to hear words come out of that crusty, chapped, necro-fucking lips and stained, chipped teeth, I’d dig up your fucking father and tap dance on his fucking ribcage as background music for that useless whiney shit that falls out of your mouth everyday, Hand Job.”
💙🔥 ━ The room fell silent as Shigaraki and Twice shared glances at each other and at you. Bomb defusal is less tense than this. Hell, overthrowing the heroes would be better than sitting in this.
💙🔥 ━ “SO?! IS NO ONE GONNA ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTION?! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU TALKING ABOUT TO MY QUEEN?!”
💙🔥 ━ Queen?
💙🔥 ━ Queen??
💙🔥 ━ QUEEN?????????????
💙🔥 ━ Oh boy, he’s got it bad.
💙🔥 ━ If this wasn’t love, then Shigaraki couldn’t possibly think of another word. Maybe obsessive? Yeah, that sounds like a better word.
💙🔥 ━ “Dabi.”
💙🔥 ━ Dabi whipped his head towards you, nearly fully in flames. His eyes pierced right through you while you remained unfazed from his gaze. You held a slice of pancake covered in heavy powdered sugar raised up to his lips. His flames subsided a bit at the innocent look on your face.
💙🔥 ━ “Say ‘aahhh’.”
💙🔥 ━ In the moment of tense silence, Shigaraki and Twice waited on baited breath at Dabi’s reaction.
💙🔥 ━ To their surprise, Dabi’s flames disappeared and his face softened in a way that they’ve never seen before.
💙🔥 ━ Gentle. Soothing.
💙🔥 ━ Loving.
💙🔥 ━ A gasp nearly left their mouths when they saw Dabi’s mouth open and you gently placed the pancake in his mouth.
💙🔥 ━ “Mmm.” Dabi moaned as he chewed and swallowed. “It’s too sweet.”
💙🔥 ━ Without a moment's hesitation, Dabi threw you over his shoulder, grabbed the plate with the rest of the pancakes, and walked towards the door, but not before throwing the two stunned members a deadly glare.
💙🔥 ━ “This ain’t over.”
💙🔥 ━ And with that, you were dragged back to Dabi’s room for… who knows what.
💙🔥 ━ But, the two of them learned something that day.
💙🔥 ━ Don’t talk to Dabi’s lover if you want to keep your soul in your body and the skin of your muscles.
💙🔥 ━ And Dabi learned something too.
💙🔥 ━ Love is meant for a Todoroki.
💙🔥 ━ Love is meant for Dabi.
🖤🖤🖤
a/n: i wanted to make something longer for this 'until they met you' reaction and decided to play around with giving the reader a quirk. i think it turned out okay. i'm trying to pump out a few more dere boyfriend and anime boyfriend scenarios before the end of the year.
