꒰ i guess i should make an about me ૮ ⑅ . ֑ . ১ i kinda forgot that part ꒱
♥︎ im sugar - i am blk - i go by she/her, and i lov sleeping!!!!
♥︎ i really enjoy reading and drawing, i also love to cook and bake!
˲˲ though im not very ...good at baking ( ´ ▿ ` )…
♥︎ planning on going into the healthcare field and currently waiting on acceptance letters....
♥︎ i started writing like years ago when i was a wee tot but i stopped around that time aswell (ᴗ ᵔ _ ᵔ) ༝ i recently got back into writing but i lose motivation rlly quickly so i kinda have to push my self to b more consistent ..𑙒 bc i really do enjoy writing!
♥︎ also i love messages pls tell me stuf hehea i want mutuals pls
۫ ׅ 𐔌 . katsuki b. ⋮ . shoto t. ⋮ . izuku m. ⋮ . keigo t. ⋮ ୭ ˚
੭﹕﹒
ꜝꜝ just some silly things i think they'd do as dads ༝༚༝༚ ꜝꜝ
cw ⋮ mayb ooc lol, reader has fem pronouns and is referred to as wife, mom, etc. flluff! takes place after timeskip!
KATSUKI who tells the WORST bedtime stories. like i mean he's retelling brutal fights (that he won, of course).
“yeah, he was scared as shit!” he's reclined in his chair like he's throwing back beers with ejirou. your sweet girl is staring up at him with wide, gleaming eyes. overly tuned in to this definitely...not age appropriate bedtime story.
“i blew his arm off!" man, it was crazy━blood was everywhere━”
after hearing the...familiar start to the story you've heard a million times━you rush in to interrupt him.
hopefully before he gets to the part where he nearly blasts the dude's head off.
his poor reasoning is that he wants the little shit to have a cool role model, like him. and he's not a bad one by any means, but maybe stick to the cute stories!
“why not just tell her about the time you and shoto built that indoor theme park or somethin'?”
“first, wasn't a theme park━and that bastard didn't even come up with that...the shit was my idea.” he sneers, hand coming to rest on your lower back. “second, i gotta let her know how cool daddy is, no?”
“i wouldn't necessarily describe de-limbing a man as cool, but sure, dear.”
though the moment doesn't last much longer━you’re both interrupted by the ruckus of your daughter pretending to blast her all american doll's arm off, screaming for it to go to...hell?
“she thinks i'm pretty cool.”
SHOTO is the WORST when his son goes on his first date. he has a sitdown with him, which he never does btw. he's not even trying to look as serious as he does━
“you're going to open every door for her, yes?”
“yes dad.”
“you will introduce yourself to her parents as soon as you arrive, and ensure you will have her home on time.”
“…yes dad.”
“you did get a thank you gift for her mother, right?” he pauses, right hand over his chest, “did you get her flowers━please say you got her flowers.”
“dad. relaax.” his son snickers, laugh identical to his mother. “mom went with me yesterday to pick a sick bouquet━i think they were…rindou flowers━and yes, i already got a thank you gift for mrs. yaoyorozu.”
the back of shoto's hand swipes across his forehead, nerves finally settling. “forgive me for worrying, can't help it. i was never prepared for this━”
he throws a firm grab to his dad's shoulder before swiping his phone off the coffee table, headed for the door. “i know, i know. love ya too, dad.”
“before you go...” shoto tosses him the keys from his pocket, “take the benz.” his warm smile seems small, but internally he's smiling ear to ear at the ‘cool dad’ points he just scored!
he offers him a wave of thanks as he diverts to the garage, but shoto doesn't miss the screech of boyish excitement when his son gets in the car.
۫ ׅ 𐔌 9 : 23 PM ୭ ˚
“hon,” you whisper from the car in the passenger seat next to your husband, who's currently moments from cracking. “come on sho...you've got to trust 'em at some point.”
your smile fades into a sigh, your protests falling on deaf ears once again.
red and white eyelashes press against the binocular lenses in his hands━currently spying on your son. who was three hours into his outside dinner date. “just gotta...make sure they're safe━”
“honey, we’re sitting in a shaded, parked car with binoculars. we look like creeps. let's go.”
“…only if they catch us.”
“...”
he slouches back in his seat, not willing to push it with that look on your face. “fine.”
reluctantly putting the car in drive, he begins heading home━but the whole drive there he can't help but think he should've used that ghillie suit and come on his own. just to make sure...
IZUKU is the WORST when it comes time for his sweet girl to grow up.
he's been taking your daughter to every single father-daughter event in town since she was three!
though, his favorites were the daddy daughter dances! he always makes it a huge deal, won't stop yapping his colleagues' ears off about how excited he is.
he's so annoying about it that aizawa has the month marked on his calendar...just so he can make sure that he's busy during every lunch break.
that's why he's so stunned when━
“yeah dad, i'm just not feeling it this year. think i'm getting too old for all...that.”
his eyes are wide and full of shock. he knew this day would come, but why did it have to be so soon!
“what'dya mean you're too old!?” his hands are instantly tangled in his trimmed green locks. “you just turned fourteen!”
“i just can't risk someone posting that i was there━they'll call me lame for weeks...and i'm already beefing with the girls at school! i do not need to give them any leverage, you know?”
she instantly regrets her sentence after seeing the state of shock it sent her father into right after. he was slowly but surely coming around to her growing up━but breaking their tradition...might prove to be a bigger setback than she expected!
“oh god, here he goes...MOM!”
the waterworks are already running, tears falling down his scarred, tanned cheeks.
“dear all might, my little girl's all grown up━”
“dad please, not again...”
KEIGO is the WORST teacher ever. which is to be expected, since he only ever had one 'student'.
“daddy!” a tiny voice shouts somewhere in your backyard. “look how fast i can go!” you aren't sure how the hell your son hasn't passed out from heat stroke or exhaustion yet. little feet jump up and down on top of that splinter-ridden playhouse kei built him last year for his birthday.
keigo always loved telling you how excited he was to fly with your future kid once (if) you guys made it to that stage in life anyways. which is why you were both kinda confused as to how you were gonna teach him how to use his wings now. poor kid inherited his dad's quirk with his mother's sub-par vision.
“i'm lookin', let's see it kid!” your husband's bright, pearly, encouraging smile matched the one on your son's face. his small hands are stretched out in front of him, wings wide. “…ok!”
at the last second the squirt spins around━directly toward the fence.
keigo plops down in the patio chair next to you, hand on your crossed legs as he pops his sunglasses back over his eyes.
“…he really can't see a damn thing, can he?”
“well━duh?” you look up from your clothing magazine, pushing heavy glasses up on your nose.
he pushes his smile down, patting your thigh. both of your eyes tracking your son as he goes to jump━again. “parents of the century.”
you wave him off, “just...go get the first aid kit.”
the sound of heavy wings crashing through the fence echoes across the yard. “━and his glasses.”
currently having tutor tenya brainrot - look it rhymes its meant 2 be! does it??
cw: suggestive but no explicit smut
ᘛ you’re sitting on his bed, pretending to pay attention to the boring speech he's giving you on 'quantum entanglement'.
though, you're more focused on him as he leans over you, tie dangling around his neck, argyle sweater sleeves stretched tight around his bulky arms—pointing out some stupid example problem in this stupid textbook.
you feel a bit stupid that you didn’t just ask him to be your tutor sooner!
“uggh…” you groan into his shoulder, grinning as you feel him tense up.
he straightens, clearing his throat to the side, “...what are you not understanding?” his eyes dart to the clock on his wall, how has it already been two hours…
you jerk his attention back to you, soft hand catching his tie—you shorten the leash twice before pulling him closer. feeling his grip on the textbook in your lap tighten, wide eyes staring into yours.
“humm…” your lashes flutter back towards the textbook, “m’ just not getting this problem” you blink between him and the book, pointing at some random sample equation, “number thirteen…”
“right, lets see.” you watch his hand glide on the page in search of it, glancing at how his jaw clenches when you place your hand over his to…guide him.
his breathing stutters against the shell of your ear, “…ah this one?” blue eyes pace from the book to your face.
“yep!” you chirp, though your tone doesn’t match the teasing way your nails send tingles up to his elbows. “‘re you gonna explain it orrr…”
his jaw tightens, “of course,”
“why don’t you tell me…how you would solve this one.”
well shit. you hadn’t thought that far yet.
you give up on your front—hell, you had to. you didn’t know a damn thing about that equation and you couldn’t even bullshit like you did.
you move his hand to fold the textbook—slamming it shut with a puff!
pausing, you hold his eyes in yours, “tenya, i want you to be honest with me.”
his breath gets caught in his lungs—the way you say that horrifying line, what had he done, were you mad?
“are you attracted to me?”
what? he swallows hard, palms heating under your gaze.
“...that question seems to deviate from…the material.”
you shift towards him, silky tie halted between your fingers—pulling his face closer to yours.
his eyes flick from your lips back to your eyes, his face’s burning hot now, glasses foggy. a muscular arm is pressed between you both, holding him just inches from you. pale, rosy lips part in protest when you pull his frames off, laying them somewhere on his bed.
your eyes drop to his adams apple, bobbing as he swallows. chest tensing at the feeling of you tracing over the ridges in his muscles, his breath hitches when you start fiddling with his undershirt collar—your stupid pretty hands,
your fingers are warm under his ear, he wonders if you can feel his racing pulse. “tenya?” it's innocent the way you remind him of your question.
“yes.” he blurts, pausing afterwards, worried his tone was too eager.
“…i am.” his eyes dilate, cheeks flushing as he pushes closer, breath fanning against your sickeningly shiny lips,
“and,” you feel his other hand tilt your chin up, “and i want…i want to kiss you.” he finally mutters, panting.
you chuckle, “suprised you made up your mind—”
he ignores the snarky comment, eyelashes fluttering closed as your hands pull him closer—the way you smile against his lips consumes his mind—you're contagious.
he lets your face hover there for a beat, its short, but enough to catch you off guard once he presses back.
tenya wouldn’t normally be embarrassed to be inexperienced. normally. but he did feel some sort of way, mainly because it's you.
heavy hands land on your sides, softly ushering you back into his mattress. his weight’s controlled, a contrast from his much too eager teeth that knock against yours—not his best work.
…but tenya would never settle for sub-par.
the air’s knocked out of him as he lands on his back, you grin at his face—suprised you could turn him over. knee gliding against his smooth dress pants as you splay him over his comforter. everything's been a bit blurry for him—still trying to adjust in the absence of his glasses.
the rest of his senses are full of you, your shitty perfume has been ingrained in his head all these years, filling his nose with every desperate inhale as you suck bruises on his neck. his breathing’s fast as he listens to your bracelets—loud as his heartbeat as they crash together on your wrists that are feverishly pulling at the bottom of his sweater.
thick, wide hands engulf yours, guiding them to the buttons on his dress shirt underneath.
his neatly trimmed hair sprawled beneath him as he tries to focus on your face, both of your knees cradle his chest, pressing into each side.
“hah…wait,” he catches his breath, “...we should do this properly.”
like he’s correcting you during a lab.
he shrinks back a tad at your pout, his eyes warm with sincerity,
“you tryin’ to plan… sex?”
he nods, a genuine smile pressed on his face, “precisely,”
he goes to adjust his absent glasses, muscle memory. “it would also be dishonest to improperly report my required tutoring hours.”
you can’t stop the smile forcing its way onto your face, an airy laugh leaves you both as he pulls you down into a kiss. you smile into his mouth.
“dork.”
this is also a shorter version of the full thingy i wrote for him (somehow i still managed to make ts long as hell)
but i felt like it was 2 long so ill link it if i decide to post it elohel
ᘛ i like to imagine that you and katsuki's home is literally never quiet.
ᘛ every day there's at least one of your stupid friends coming over for some stupid reason.
ᘛ little does he know they all just miss you guys!
you never mind as much as your boyfriend pretends to. you always catch him huffing when he swings the door open to see shitty hair mumbling out sorries as he shoves past katsuki into your house like it's his.
a string of curses always shoots out of his mouth, yellin about how “this is the last damn time any of you are comin' in without an invite!” you just giggle, because not once has he ever denied them entry!
ᘛ though he really doesn't have to—a spare key has been circulating your entire friend group and you're pretty sure …everyone has a copy.
sometimes he’s greeted home by the bass of kyokas' band (they were looking for members urgently, at the moment it was just her and kaminari…) playing in your garage as he pulls up. the blaring sound of the television takes over once he's inside, eye twitching as he continues on—
only to be blinded by the sight of you at the kitchen island, hanta and ejirou lazily spinning in the barstools beside you, all three of you were scrolling while you scarfed down leftovers that he cooked.
after a long pause, he'd shrug it off. attention shifting to you after you offered him a warm wave, motioning your chopsticks towards him, an invitation!
you heard his tongue click—but he leaned down to take a bite anyway!
not far behind ejirou 's always mina, but she was here for you! said she needed your advice in picking her outfit for a date tonight…but you swear both the tops she holds up are…yours?
ᘛ though it wouldn’t surprise you if they were, you’d lost count of what was yours and what wasn’t around this house.
ᘛ in fact, half the items around don’t belong to either you or katsuki!
you’re often awoken in the middle of the night to a “agh, shit!” from your boyfriend as he stepped on one of kaminari’s stray chargers, and mina’s rings ‘n bracelets are practically decoration on the sides of your sink.
you just give up on storing leftovers ‘cause the fridge’s full...of ejirou’s protein shakes.
but you’re both glad that kyoka feels safe keeping her precious instruments in your garage—kats will never admit that he uses her drum set in the rare event he’s home alone…though he still gets pissed at all the backpacks and purses that hang off the chairs! he installed the entry hooks for a reason!
ᘛ katsuki’s lost count of the amount of times he’s whisked you to your bedroom, halfway through unclasping your bra—just for the light to flicker on and reveal not just kaminari, but mina and sero all tangled together yet one shuffle from rolling right off your comforter.
katsukis clap sounds through your entire bedroom,
“...the fuck?”
you both jump at the drowsy voice that answers somewhere behind you,
“...welcome...home.”
you both lock eyes on ejirou who's already fast asleep, sunken into katsuki's new beanbag. all he can do is tch when he sees you laugh into your hands, already going to drape a blanket over him.
i like rlly wanna write about megumi from jjk but despite being a somewhat fan for as long as i have i feel like idk the story well enough to write him which sucks bc hes like my fav ever
it confuses me so bad i swear and ik its like not that hard but like pls
like the power system and shi makes no sense to me its lidderly physics
ive been really fighting the urge to make my blog pink and put hearts and bows everywhere because i always go back to that theme on literally every platform and im trying to be different this time but its just so cute and then i see someones cute pink blog and im like omg i need to to that
ꫂ the movie ended ages ago, the beach projector replaced by the sand now smoothed by the tide.
ꫂ subtle blue hues of the moon have replaced the vibrant sun once burning your eyes. the sound of the ocean up ahead crashes against your ears, the night having cooled the summer air weaving past your bodies.
ꫂ some stragglers are still folding their chairs behind you. their children’s laughter carries over their parents yelling about how it's time to go.
ꫂ your head tilts up to look at his face, you feel his hand squeeze awake at your movement. his indigo lashes flutter open to meet yours—fingers still intertwined. he pulls you tight against his skin. his lips move silently against your neck, you faintly hear him mutter the word ‘cold’ before your ears are hushed in between his arms.
ꫂ it was rare to get this kind of affection from tamaki in public—he was never one for pda. though, he’s come out of his shell in recent years, an evolved man from when you both graduated.
ꫂ his pretty smile was something you saw more often. that smile’s gracing his face as he pulls you up on his lap. his sun-dried hair’s scratchy against your ear, you pay it no mind, letting his soft fingers brush up and down the side of your face.
ꫂ your feet plant themselves into the sand while you let yourself get comfortable on his shoulder. he brushes the now dried sand off your legs, a soft giggle sounds into the air as he pinches your thigh.
ꫂ you nudge his jaw with your head, he tilts his head from its spot resting over yours, his attention now on your face, “..hm?”
ꫂ you bite the inside of your cheek, “have i ever told you how much i love you, tama?”
ꫂ your voice is velvet on his ears, your warm breath sending tingles across his collarbone.
the heat climbs up his neck instantly,
ꫂ he averts his eyes, his reply almost a whisper, “yes, you do… e..every day.” he just hides in your neck, trying to ignore the way he stammered through his sentence—the way your fingers drum up his spine isn’t helping.
ꫂ your flattery always resets his brain right back to highschool. his brain turns to mush ..no matter how many ways you spin the same line.
ꨄ︎ : 600 words ish (sorray), kinda explicit lingo but no smut! touya is a genuine asshole in this holy
thinkin’ about rewriting this for keigo, feel like it would fit him more but not really bc it would still be ooc… (˶˃𐃷˂˶)
cw: manipulation ??? reader has fem pronouns
touya todoroki is such a shitty boyfriend.
your eyelashes flutter open at the click from the doorknob. you’d been fighting to stay awake, hoping he’d be on time.
“its late touya.” your voice is dry, eyes bloodshot. though you don’t expect comfort from the man standing in your bedroom doorway.
“s’ only two am,” the baseboards creak under his boots that were supposed to be left at the door. he leans over the couch, laying his coat over the back. you feel his rough palms run down your tear stained cheeks, index finger stopping to pull at your bottom lip.
you turn your head away, knowing his routine,
“c’mon don’t be like that—”
you scoff, “you’ve got some nerve tryin’ to kiss me, y’know that?” you pause, gripping the blanket you were curled in, “you were supposed to be home—”
he cuts you off, the cushions dipping next to you under his weight, the familiar smell of smoke warms your nose. his arm thrown lazily around your shoulders, “i know, ‘m two days late.” he sighs, leaning back into the couch, “y’ know how it is.”
you absolutely didn’t know, ‘cause he wouldn’t tell you—no matter how many times you asked. because touya todoroki is a shitty boyfriend.
he huffs, digging in his jean pocket, “got y’ something.”
your eyes fall to his hand, your breath stalling in your lungs.
it wasn’t in a box, so he probably stole it off some poor elderly woman's finger.
“‘s that—” your tired eyes scan his face, looking—begging for any sign of a joke.
he doesn’t wait for you to finish. doesn’t even look back at you.
you can hear his grin, “what do y’say,” a cold hand crawls up your arm, his other pressing into the rock now adorning your ring finger.
it was an eye catcher, a rather heavy one. but it was nothing like what you’d dreamed of.
“fits good huh,” a dry laugh brushes your ear. finally, his blue eyes hold nothing but deceit as they meet yours.
your face falls, tears threatening to spill; he makes sure his lips lock with yours before they can.
“y’trust me,” he rasps out, smoke filling your lungs, “...don’t you?”
the feeling’s gone in a flash, but in that moment you almost do.
it's been a couple years with touya, and every day he proved just how stupid you were for dating him.
it was truly a talent to lie as well as he could, especially to you.
he’d filled your head with empty promises about places he wanted to take you.
he’d tell you to ignore your friends warnings—they always point out how you never have any …positive stories to share about him.
lies about when he was coming home were daily. sometimes he’d break the silence just to tell you he wasn’t gonna make it back in time.
his favorite excuse was work, always claiming that the guys needed him for a job. work always seemed to come first. even your birthday wasn’t worth calling you for—hell, he probably didn’t even know what day it was.
he’d always ‘make up’ for it, whether it was a stack of cash…or dick.
that must’ve been what was keeping you and him together, it sure wasn’t your love.
you don’t recall when you said yes to his shitty proposal, only how he wrapped his arms around your waist afterwards, just the indents his piercings left against your chest.
he’s muttering i love you’s,
—though his words don’t make you feel fuzzy. his touch can’t distract your eyes from the bruises littering his back, right under his scars—fresh.
he’d proposed to you right after fuckin’ on another woman. he knew you’d still say yes.
and you’re not surprised, because you’ll keep choosing touya todoroki. no matter how shitty of a fiance he’ll be.
℘ in which you mistake katsuki for your boyfriend after a night out ༝
・・・・・
cw : suggestive, college au (? i think) , you are katsukis “ex gf” but you guys never actually dated, reader has fem anatomy and pronouns unintentional cheating…??? alcohol , ejirou and katsuki r roomates , somewhat proofread
・・・・・
“mmh… eji— i missed youuu!”
he’s stumbling back into his entryway, trying to straighten up after you threw your weight on him.
your fingers pull tight on his shirt, trying to pull him down for a sloppy kiss. your gloss stained lips barely dodge his, kiss landing on his chin.
“mh ejirou! ..where’re you goinnn” you whine into your 'boyfriend's' shirt, mind hazy as you wonder when he got so much taller than you.
a harsh gasp escapes his lips when he feels your fingers thread through his hair. he clasps a hand over his mouth—he won’t dare say anything.
his hair feels familiar… but it's only when the man you think is ejirou dodges another kiss from you that you pull back. your hands grasp at his cheeks while you try to get your eyes to focus on his face.
its so damn dark—you can’t tell if it’s the liquor or the lack of a candle, something's off.
his ruby eyes are staring back at you, albeit a bit harsher than his typical gaze.
katsuki never imagined in a million years—that you would be here, your pretty face leaning in like nothing between you both changed.
・ you were kiri’s girlfriend now. his oh so sweet girlfriend.
・・ you were at every one of his games, cheering for your boyfriend right next to katsuki who got dragged along in the stands.
・・・ always had your doting boyfriend's arm wrapped around you when he saw him walkin’ you to class—ejirou had altered his route just for you.
・・ he even had to see you when you weren’t there, rosy evidence stained on his best friend’s neck when he passed him at two am on the way to the fridge.
・ and he always knew when you were spending the night because he could hear you, just one room over.
so he couldn’t, there was no way he could kiss you. ejirou was his best friend, and though he’d never tell him, he’d do anything for that guy.
right now he’s contemplating if anything includes making out with his girlfriend..
“hah, …i think you’ve got the wrong guy,” he pants out, face warm, his hands resting over yours on his face. “yer boyfriend’s..ah, in his room..”
he watches the thoughts try and process on your face, your eyebrows knitted together—probably still wondering why your boyfriend didn’t wanna kiss you!
he grunts as you fall into him, “...hic!…what’re you talkin’ about…?”
your slurred words send tingles through his ears while freshly manicured fingernails curl into his shirt collar, dilated eyes scanning his collar bone. “wait—”
you both stumble back into the wall behind him, your plush lips already suckin’ on katsuki’s jaw. “dunno what you’re talkin’ about…” you glance up, attempting to meet his eyes “..missed you..baby,”
his warm breath fans against your lips, his eyes fighting to land on anything but your breasts pressed against his t-shirt.
…surely ejirou wouldn’t mind…he's the one that had a crush on you first, right..?
・・・・・
finally, your lips sloppily connect with his, head tilting to get a better angle—his phone wallpaper flashes a pic of him and ejirou in the dim light behind him. he barely notices it in the corner of his eye, paying it no mind—hands busy on your hips as he slips his tongue past your eager lips.
his eyes dart to the side—guilt swallowing his tongue back as yellow light spills from beneath ejirou’s door.
℘ in which katsuki has a completely different idea of what a snowball fight is. ༝
⋮
katsuki x gf! reader, 630 words, they are in their third yr ! kinda proofread , fluff , 𖹭.ᐟ
・・・・・ .ᐟ
“OUCH, what the hell?” kaminari exclaimed, dropping down behind the ice wall you were cowering behind. he clutched his shoulder, eyes scrunching. “that snowball felt like a boulder!”
“we know!” he heard two familiar, terrified voices, “why else do you think we’re hiding behind here?!” you and mina shouted in sync.
currently, your boyfriend was across the way towards the gates of the 3-a dorms. he had shoto making him an endless supply of snowballs—and conveniently left out that he was stuffing rocks into them afterwards.
every time you or mina peeked around the ice wall to scout for safety, a missile—accompanied by a very clear “DIE!”—would hurl past your heads and send you right back.
sero sighed from behind you, “guys i think we should call it. my hands are about to fall off, and i gotta take a piss.”
“nah,” ejirou called out suddenly, “never back down never what?!” he yelled, motioning to all of you for a response.
・・・・・
“okay please stop we give up!” you shouted minutes later, head peeking above the little bit of wall you guys had left. katsuki was blasting what felt like literal bullets at you guys now, and you’re almost sure he knocked out hanta on his way to the forest...
“yeah, and you better pay for my nails!” mina wailed, “guys let me know if you see some rhinestones behind you,”
“..aren’t those press ons?” kaminari’s smacked with a wad of snow by his pink haired teammate, “shut up, that’s not the point!”
“why aren’t you wearing gloves anyways—”
ejirou’s cut off—all of you freeze at the familiar sound of katsuki’s boots crunching against the snow, he’s not even slightly winded, not an ounce of exhaustion in his steps as he finally stops in front of your now crumbling fort.
his face goes flat at the sight. kaminari’s using ice from the wall to cool his bruises; mina’s digging through snow looking for…whatever it is she’s looking for.
he looks to the side at ejirou, the only one untouched besides himself, guess hardening is pretty effective here. he doesn’t even know where sero went.
his eyes finally land on you, your eyes refracting pure irritation. clearly you were unimpressed to say the least.
“...what?” he points in between you all, “why’re you all starin’ at me?”
“kats…” your eye twitches, “is there a reason why i found a rock in one of your snowballs..?”
his eyebrows raise, “..oh those?” he pauses, crushes one of them in his hand, showing the rock.
you and ejirou stare back at him, “do you…not see the problem here?”
he shrugs, “nope, this ‘s how deku and i fought all the time in middle school.” you all collectively note that for later.
“that’s not even fair!” mina objects, “what were you trying to do, kill us?”
“what mina said, and i think i have hypothermia…” denki shudders, teeth chattering in the corner.
“...spell hypothermia.” katsuki says flatly.
“...”
he sighs, shoulders slouching. “okay, yeah, whatever—i’m still freezing.”
“...right,” he pauses, laugh rumbling deep. “and what’d you idiots expect? it’s a fight.”
“it’s a snowball fight!” you retort, attempting to shake his shoulders, “..with snowballs! soft, fluffy, snowballs.”
you groan, “can’t believe ’m dating you,” you scoff as he flicks snow out of your hair. it was probably the tenth time you’ve said that this week.
he rolls his eyes, trying to fight back his grin, “c’mon, you know i didn’t hit ya.”
it’s been a few hours, and everyone's gone inside to warm up. shoto had the task of melting down the snowball fight terrain he was begged to make.
he hums, walking behind the wall bakugou was stationed at earlier.
he stutters after stepping on some stray snowballs; looking down at the pile—
“are those…” he pauses, tilting his head, “..rocks?”
⸝⸝ based off of this headcannon i saw of katsuki putting rocks in snowballs and omfg ts fried me so bad »
℘ natsuo never moved on after touya died ༝
cw: poorly written angst, not really proofread , 350 words
when they told natsuo his big brother wasn’t coming home, he cried at first, but he never accepted it. he’d forget touya wasn’t home—go bang on his door, ask to borrow his controller. touya's didn't lag. he’d wait for him to turn his music down and respond. of course, it never arrived.
he’d lie awake at night, stare at the ceiling and imagine him coming home, wait for him to burst through the door and whine about dad, like always. he never thought he’d miss his complaints.
sometimes fuyumi would drag him out of his room to play like they used to. games were sickeningly silent without touya’s competitive remarks.
it was so hard to break the habit of passing the ball to him.
he didn’t want to go to the funeral. sat on his bed and stared at the formal clothes his mom hung on his closet door handle. right behind those doors was his brother's matching suit—still pristine, because touya never liked getting dressed up.
he never got to tell him about the crush he had on this girl in his class, or ask his older brother what he should say, or how to be cool—he always thought touya was so cool. he would never know that.
nobody ever talked much about what happened. to him, it felt like everyone just…moved on. that must mean they agree with him, that touya’s coming home.
⸝⸝
natsuo’s in his second semester of college now. he wonders where touya would be on the hero charts, wonders what his uniform would’ve looked like—touya used to talk his ear off about costume ideas.
though, he can barely picture how his face would look now, the teenage version of him ingrained in his mind forever. those frantic blue eyes wake him out of every nightmare he has.
he should’ve stopped him that night, listened to him, consoled him. maybe they’d be together right now, shooting the breeze. instead he’s brushing tears off his face with frigid hands, waiting for the clock to hit twelve am.
℘ in which diluc ponders the weight of his past choices ༝
somewhat diluc x reader , aged! diluc , married! diluc, wife! reader like 800 words srry
⤷ not proofread , angst , his lore in this is most likely inaccurate bc i haven't played genshin since like 2022 and im going off my poor memory
༝
the rain is heavy at the the winery, windows of the house cold with fog. diluc is returning from work in the fields. a bit damp—but he made it back before the weather got too severe. he stops in the entryway, hearing familiar steps reach his ears, locking eyes with his wife on the staircase.
she rushes towards him, her hands gauging the temperature of his skin. she warns him about him getting sick; reminds him that he's not so young anymore… how he needs to be more careful.
simple actions have become stiffer… slower. things take longer now.
his reflections changed, his youthful features have faded some; he works harder now to stay in shape. his wife always likes to joke and say she sees his grey hair coming in, but he’s yet to see one.
the once secluded dawn winery has seen company in the recent decade, a few families have set up near the mountains—he often sees the kids playing in the water during summer evenings.
༝
he follows her touch to their bedroom, draping his coat over the couch on the way.
shrugging off his gloves, his hands are cool to the touch.
warm hands glide over his, “why must you insist on working dear,” she breathes out, looking past stubborn scarlet eyelashes, “who are you trying to prove your youth to?”
he begins to answer—the words fall silent on his tongue. he’ll have to confront that thought once it's voiced. right now, it’s easier to lie next to her under the sheets, let loving fingers rake through his hair; a tradition they follow every night.
tired eyes shut, he finally releases the breath bunched up in his chest. head melting into her touch, letting her hands land where she saw fit.
༝
his age makes itself known in various ways. in how it takes him a beat longer to recall names. in the sores that linger after yielding his claymore. but it’s easier to pretend not to notice it, no use in dreading the inevitable.
that’s what he once thought, sticking to his daily routine as a means to ignore how fast the years seem to climb on the calendar.
memories of his father always find themselves at the forefront of his mind when his eyes shut. the day of his passing marked the start of his new life—did he know that then? unconsciously he’d begun retreating. excusing it mentally as comfort—a way of mourning. he planned on returning to his normal schedule soon. there was always tomorrow.
tomorrow led him into the next week, another week of doing his day to day tasks, keeping busy. wine was a distraction, a pastime—a trade off for his youth. he made sure not to stray far from routine.
his routine’s been forcefully ripped open. nearby houses means new neighbors; new people stopping him for greetings and small talk. new voices, all reminders that the outside world is ever changing. time continues on impatiently, whether he’s accepted it or not.
shoving that thought into the back of his mind was easier when proof of time wasn't visible from his winery, this suffocating winery. the first place he went after his fathers passing, where he got married, where he’s been coming home every day for the past decade or so.
is it the uncertainty? the curiosity eats away at him—who would he be now if not for his choices back then. is it regret? regret that he didn’t stay and fight to expose the corruption in the system, get justice for his father. it seemed so hard back then. to confront those feelings when the weight of his responsibilities was so overwhelming.
day to day life was effortless this way. only now does he regret allowing himself the easier option. he knows at some point he let his fears control his life, he can’t recall when he began living this way. it feels natural now.
few ever questioned his absence, the only visitors being business partnerships—his brother would make the occasional appearance.
his staff made it easier to slip into the background. let bustling parties and events happen outside while he handles paperwork in his office—it’s quiet there. let himself become an after thought, sink into routine.
only now does he wish to revisit the day he chose this lifestyle; when he still held embers of anger in his heart, ready to act. he’d never step foot in this winery, and fight to have his presence known. make it part of their routine. maybe he’d set up a shop like lisa. have empty conversations with people while preparing for the morning rush.
༝
she thumbs away the tears at his eyes, pressing soft lips to his forehead.
his breathing slows, now fast asleep.
as he did every night, as he will the next.
the rain will settle. tomorrow will come.
the same as always, as will he.
℘ in which shoto walks the same road he once did with anxiety, now lined with solace.. ༝
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ angst , fluff — shoto x fem reader (kinda) - not proofread
thinkin’ about shoto walking the same street he did that day after the sports festival, years later.
ᯓ
after constant reminders of his mothers absence in the mirror every day, he decided he would visit. he’d made up his mind, he was going. told his sister he'd be back–didn’t bother tellin’ his father.
the street–its peaceful, serene even. the trees haven't decided its autumn yet, still holding their vibrant color. the houses are full of life all around him, but it's still a bit lonely. fingers softly fidget with the strap on his bag, unsure if hes making a good decision. maybe… he is acting irrationally–as his father would say.
ᯓ
there's a mother and her son strolling up the road to his left. presumably walking back from the sports festival, as many others are. her kid’s beaming about how cool it was, and shoto just placed second, he should be celebrating, shouldn’t he?
his mom turns to ruffle her son's hair, fingers coated with love and honey, “sounds like you had a good time!” she remarks, her words laced with affection.
his eyes lock back onto the road in front of him, yet he can’t help but feel some kind of jealousy–even towards a five year old. he can point out very few memories of his mothers warmth. not that.. he’d ever blame her for that. she was a warrior for putting up with what she did.
the red glow from the stoplight turns green, forcing his train of thought to a halt. he wonders if fear is still what his mother feels at the sight of his face. his past fear of that very truth was the restraint that kept him from visiting all those years.
𐔌
but this time, that street holds a different meaning to him, a much more welcome meaning.
it looks a bit different after the post-war reconstruction years back. trees are inconsistent, and houses are rearranged. yet the charm of the original neighborhood remains–only to the ones who witnessed it before.
“daddy, is grandma gonna make those soba noodles?” a child's voice calls out towards him.
his daughter, all giddy, squeezing his aged finger as he walks her up the reconstructed street
this time, he was sent on a run by his wife–she said they needed a few ingredients for the ‘special noodles’–a poor attempt to conceal that they were making him and their daughters shared favorite food.
his usually unreadable face was deciphered instantly by his daughter, who was now brimming with joy at his unintentional confirmation. he tends to forget that his face is much more expressive now than it once was. "shhh, don’t tell mommy that I told you–”
“really really! im so excited!” she exclaims, and he meets her eyes that don’t look to him in fear, paired with a smile so sincere only a child could possess.
ᯓ
they begin to slow down as they reach his family home. old memories now faded by more vibrant ones. the brightest, a gift from the woman awaiting him inside–accompanied by his family.
drabble ℘ in which middle school / early first yr katsuki has dinner with his best friend crush ༝
fluff - katsuki x reader ? i think , not proofread, reader has she/her
pronouns , middle school/ early first yr kastuki
staring through his crimson eyes from across the table was the familiar, scrutinizing gaze of his best friend's father. should he look away? …no that would make it even weirder then it already is. he tries to look in his friend's direction for a hint, but she's too busy picking away at her spicy curry.
she never did like spicy foods, a stark contrast from himself. he’d have to ask her mom for the recipe before he leaves–
“..so bakugou, how long have you known my daughter?” the booming voice jerks him out of his thoughts, having forgotten that he was still at the table entirely.
he can’t avoid talking to him, since the women at the table were busy chatting amongst themselves. god why couldn’t her dad just work out of the country or something…
“two years.” … “..sir”
her mother smiles into her hand, “oh honey, he's so polite!” her husband shoots her an icy glare, which she waves off.
katsuki shoots her a grateful look.
“i heard that y’have a reputation… at school.” blond eyebrows instantly scrunch into a scowl as he puts his chopsticks down– “stupid school records” he grumbled, trying to bite back the bark in his tone.
the girl he’s enduring all this for looks down at her lap to hide the smile blooming on her face.
she starts slowly, “dad, y’know katsuki actually got into ua! with a.. really good score too..” she trails off when met with her fathers gaze.
katsuki nudges her leg from under the table in thanks.
her mother wears a look of awe, “well you must be a very talented …boy!”she blurts, “and you seem to have a lovely friendship with my daughter.” pointedly smiling between the two teens.
her husband scoffs to her right, “friends” he repeats, sounding suspicious.
₊⊹ somehow, he survives dinner, and the bright beams from the sun, once lighting the living room have now begun to set into orange hues. he starts to collect his silverware before her mother juts in.
with a wave of her hand, she motions towards the back door, “oh love!” she meets her daughter's eyes, “you should show katsuki the sunflowers, your father worked so hard on the garden this year!”
she looks back at her dad, who's currently washing dishes, who's also trying to avoid the blond elephant in the room.
she grabs katsuki’s wrist from his black jean pocket, having changed into the ‘nicest’ outfit he had for dinner. “sure mom!” she shouts out while dragging katsuki down the hallway and out the stained glass backdoor–forgetting to close it, as usual.
𐔌
the sound of socks padding down the hall is gone; giving him permission to speak – “he's a delinquent!” his tone lowers as his wife's fingers trail up his arms to rest on his shoulders, “you can't tell me you’re comfortable with our daughter dating…someone like him..” he nearly choked trying to get the word out.
“well,” she rests her head into his back, “it's clear he deeply cares about her, and i feel that she's safe with him.. the kids goin’ to ua after all…”
he turns to look at his wife, “since when do you think he’s mr. reliable?”
she motions down the hall, pointing through the open door, “when’s the last time you saw her smile that wide?”
⸝⸝⸝
their daughter's laughter carries past the clouds as she attempts to weave a sunflower through his locks. katsuki’s scowl never fades, but it holds no malice; letting her gentle fingers trace through his hair. the uncut grass is gentle as he falls back into it, giving her better access to his head.
she's so focused on the stupid flower maybe she missed his skin burning the same shades as the sunset ᯓ
・・・・・
“…i guess i’ll allow it.” he grumbled.
she hums softly, pleased. he reaches his wife's eyes to see her wearing the same smile as her daughter in the yard.
