EVERYBODY THE DAY HAS COME TO CELEBRATE WHEN THE REALEST WAS BORN HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @yogurtsdayout I LOVE YOU MAMAS I HOPE YOU HAVE THE BEST BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION YET 💃🏽💃🏽💃🏽
"Fluorescent lights, hallway must, caramel and big brown eyes, melting together and at this rate forever waiting on the wrong side of a the party."
this piece was sponsored by the inimitable @ltadoriyuujl for the @ficsforgaza initiative! thank you sm for trusting me with your lovely Anika and for all your patience and guidance. cw seven min/heaven shenanigans including makeout + heavy petting, clothed grinding, manhandling, quirk use, brief description of alcohol use, aggressive banter, and implied audience. stevie nicks. one (1) miserable stint in a sweaty hallway and approximately thirty balloons. 5.9k
Sometimes just touching pages in a book, leafing through chapters, is too much. Damp hands on dry paper– they jump and rub, grate like running fingers between bricks to test how smooth they'll get. Katsuki regrets the paper gift bag he picked, slowly deteriorating in his fist and tries not to linger on the drag of class textbooks or crisp study planners as he pulls a little moleskine from his pocket.
Jun 9
Mina’s, 9pm.
6-1-63-802.
He clamps the A5 shut with his free hand and shoves it back into the depths of the hoodie he shouldn’t have worn. It’s the 1st. It’s 9:30, apartment 802. Why the fuck isn’t anyone answering the door?
The celebration in Mina’s new place thumps like caught fish and Katsuki tries to find new things to notice about the sweltering hallway, no windows, cobwebs under sprinklers, someone rattling around in the elevator a few stories down, and the errant blinking of a security camera, instead of blasting the door off its hinges. He shakes a stray blond strand from the sweat on his forehead and prays Mina can at least afford a box fan after scrounging the last few cents of the security deposit for this place from their penniless friends.
Katsuki doesn’t mind being sweaty. He doesn’t love being stranded in stuffy hallways, but he doesn’t hate the noise at these things; he mostly just hates the laundryproof reek of liquor and cigs but he’s not tapping holes in carpet for fun. Soon a distant dam will break and the floodwater hero he has no chance of outswimming will be perched on the opposite end of a loveseat six asses over capacity. She’ll be here, Anika, inevitable, thunderstorm. Sure, he doesn’t mind sweat but it’s her job to take note of wet things and he hates just how much it puts him at her mercy.
Before he can fish out his phone again to call someone inside, a bell kills the peace of the hallway and the muffled tumult of the elevator shaft bursts when its doors ding first and open, spitting out thirty-some balloons and a voice like high tide.
“Dynamight?”
He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s her but a choir of two dozen rubbing, kissing, squeaking rubber hellions makes the hair on his arms stand up so fast that he instinctively spins to bear his teeth to it.
“What the fuck?”
Anika, as if summoned by his own dread, struggles through the elevator frame and down the hall in the same black jeans she’s worn all spring and a too-big leather jacket that does nothing to help her manage her cargo. She shakes her head in an attempt to calm some static, “Fuck what? These?” and tips up to the balloons with her chin.
“How are you showing up late with the decorations?”
“You’re just as late as I am.” Anika grunts, shrugging a purse back up her shoulder and dragging her supplies towards the door.
“Sans party essentials.”
She doesn't look like she just got off overtime but contrary to popular belief Katsuki doesn’t have the group chat muted: picking up a shift that afternoon but I’ll be there! Blah, blah. Plus, he knows that charcoal residue. She plays it off as eyeliner when she doesn’t have time to wash her face well in the agency showers. It’s gotta be on purpose, little things he knows she could fix but leave just to make him insane. A pencil with squeaky lead, the half dead hem of her uniform skirt– knocking a water glass over shared notes and leaving the paper dry but misshapen when her quirk sucks it all out again.
Anika doesn’t look like a tsunami, ambling closer in the tight space with a litany of balloons in tow and increasingly irritated he isn’t coming to meet her. She doesn’t look like the hero that apprehended a villain with their tears this afternoon and she certainly doesn’t look like a girl whose slender hands have ever knocked him unconscious. She’s grinning, practically growling through her latex bouquet when she finally manages the journey to Mina’s door and lets her bag drop off her shoulder to the doormat. She rolls her head towards him theatrically, “my hero.”
“Spare me,” Katsuki grimaces. He stares ahead and has entirely forgotten what he’s doing in the hallway besides bracing for a fist fight or doing his best to keep his head above her spicy summer perfume.
“You see my catch today?”
He considers and then grunts, fingering the binding on his notebook to give the hand in his pocket something to do instead of, again, breaking and entering. He did. Balloon static pours off Anika’s chest in waves and the cloy of it at the fuzz on his cheek almost makes him turn to face her. Like the hallway couldn’t get any stuffier. Earth would be too cramped if they were the last things on it.
“That why you’re late?”
She at least has the courtesy in this hell hall to push her ballooned fist away before leaning in close like she might have a secret to tell, “Gimme some credit Dynamight,” and, bad omen, he can taste the smile in her voice before he hears it, “or am I making you nervous?”
Everyday is the day that he met her, transfer student, water quirk, a poor matchup in his sparring class– every conversation or study session or close proximity since that day, has been the sudden agony of his defense peeled off of him like a skinned animal. He never considered how it might feel to have the life pulled from his pores, but her quirk makes it easy and the second she shows up he starts overheating. Is it that obvious? What else can he do but tilt his chin down to finally spare her a glance after so many weeks apart?
It’s a mess. Just a painters wash of freckles on cider brown cheeks and mischief close enough to bite. Anika was not built to treat him gently. Her hair, short, spikes like his with static and tickles the sleeve of his jacket as she waits for him to finally admit that she’s right. She presses closer, predator, purring on his shoulder. Fluorescent lights, hallway must, caramel and big brown eyes, melting together and at this rate forever waiting on the wrong side of a the party.
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t turn away and hopes a few of his teeth are still bared, “What am I supposed to be nervous about, huh? Your nine-week plateau at #12?”
But Anika is not like him. For all her attitude she doesn’t explode off the battlefield and he knows this won’t be the thing that suddenly makes her do anything besides draw the damp off her brow with the trace of a fingernail. She leans away, jostling giggling balloons, “That’s number seven to you.”
A single afternoon jump from twelve to seven should make #3 Katsuki shudder but he’d have to be brain dead to let his heart beat that fast in this heat. Anika, hurricane, bends to collect her purse and knocks on Mina’s door as she rises,
“And what’s in your bag?—or—wait,” and grins. She bats her black lashes up, up, sweat pearling at her temples and in wild baby hairs, “about-to-be-clutch. I know you’re melting that dumb paper handle.”
The inside of kiln is actually a very nice place to be, he concedes. It’s a place Katsuki knows he can’t truly destroy anything. He can’t get hotter than white fire and he could never be more destructive than her, so what could possibly go wrong in a firing oven? What could he do, explode? Cure a porcelain vase or two? She’ll flood the whole hallway, she’ll drown all the guests, there’s nothing he could do to break her. He is melting the paper handles. What here makes him angrier, the fact that she’s right or that he’s smirking too? Albeit, over a frown.
“Well?”
He growls something in response, not important. A curled lip suits her, cocky like a feral cat. His friends get crinkle-eyed smiles and pats on the shoulder. They got to link arms with her on the way to class and they get to hold her hands during hospital stays where she coos and kisses them better. Katsuki gets this, an exclusively mischievous shimmer like glass on the backs of her dark eyes. She’s swimming in that stupid leather jacket. “Well what.”
“Were you gonna knock or are we starting a rival party in the hallway?” Anika adjusts grips on her purse and decorations and wipes at her forehead. Where her fingers graze, sweat pills and pulls gently behind them off of her skin and patters to the floor where she directs it, but the balloons don’t love being jostled and Katsuki continues to hate the sounds they make.
He winces, “already tried.”
“And?”
“Music’s too loud.”
“Perfect, I’ll start setting up out here.”
“I sent a text,” he rolls his eyes and again lets the silence of the hallway descend as he rotates rankings and pearls in his mind.
“What’s wrong with you today?”
What’s wrong with him today. Hm. What? “Eh?” Katsuki blinks himself back into the hallway, back beside her and two dozen balloons, back in her perfume, back caught in a trap, looking, watching the shapes her eyebrows can make when she isn’t glaring—
Anika frowns, “you’re being a freak.”
“Fuck off.”
“Fuck you, what’s your problem? You’re extra quiet, get hurt on patrol?”
It’s time for this door to lose some hinges. Katsuki lets his phone drop back into the soup of his pocket lest it catches a loose spark and leans back, “I’m fucking tired— unlike the rest of you shits, I catch more than one villain a day.”
But it’s not enough, it’s not thrilling, he’s no longer interesting and Anika tucks a charged piece of hair as far behind her ear as it’ll reach before turning away. She knocks again and the vibrations of Mina’s party fill the silence.
“Whatever.”
The balloons are no longer charming and Katsuki’s losing his grip on his bag. He’s drowning, side by side and not trying to tread in the miserable hallway beside her.
Anika pinches her purse on her shoulder with her chin and fishes her phone from its depths while droplets of sweat pluck themselves from her skin to fall in a pretty ring around her. Irritated or glowing with joy, Anika always looks the same. Face of a hero, Katsuki supposes, even stranded in his company. She concentrates constantly, more with the bridge of her nose than anything else, crinkled asymmetrically between her eyes. She watches wet things and she is never wrong.
“Fucking Hanta—” she growls and pulls her phone away from her cheek to dial another number. “If you don’t—” But she doesn’t get to finish.
Katsuki’s hand jumps damp from his pocket and flies for red balloon strings as he turns. Anika startles, propelling her balloons even faster towards the spiked sprinklers above, half dropping her phone, and fully dropping the the sweat from her brow into an eye. The first pop is horrid in the silence. Like Katsuki’s heart could beat any faster. He jerks the bundle of strings down from the stucco ceiling and flies so much closer to her than he meant to, faces mirrored in sickly light— pop! The second comes quickly, worse, but not so much worse than the third— Pop pop! Four more bursts rattle the sticky hallway and Katsuki winces every time, but Anika only stares, one hand on her eye and the other still holding an ever-wilting and only partially floating bouquet, through the noise above them.
Mina’s door soars open, purple lights, music, burnt pizza, and he and Anika both turn, tucked into one another. Her hunched and biting back laughter and Katsuki grimacing, mid lunge for party decorations.
Kaminari grins as Katsuki’s bag fails— rips right off its soaked handle, plops to floor— and leans against the door he opened.
“Bombsquad’s here.”
Katsuki perches at the edge of the kitchen only just barely still in Anika’s field of vision. He’s miserable, obviously, and nursing his headache with a beer.
“Drinking it would help more.”
He glares before the words even leave her mouth, to his group of friends and Anika perched among them, sprawled out on Mina’s unfurnished floor. He grips the asahi pressed to his forehead a little too hard and its uncracked tab wheezes with pressure. He’s already finished two. Anika knows better than anyone what a lightweight he is and how much he hates it— how much he hates a lot of things these days.
Mina, Sero, Kirishima, Uraraka, Momo, Kaminari and some kids from old class-B cluster in the living room where a sofa should go and more importantly, in the crosswind between two windows. There’s a fire escape Katsuki keeps eyeing from his storm cloud, but Shinsou’s been out there smoking with half-n-half for the past hour. Drinks splash, groups laugh, and music floods the little one-bedroom in waves from genkan to linen closet. Anika slipped her phone in the aux line up when her friends finally pulled themselves away from go-fish long enough to let her and Katsuki in. It’s been a little less Party Rock Anthem On Repeat and slightly more Fleetwood Mac’s Greatest Hits since. Smells like school. She lets Mina pull her in by the shoulder while she fills a smitten Kirishima in on details from her sidekick gig and an apparently psychic new neighbor.
Parties after work are like falling asleep in her parents’ backseat. The white noise of people she loves, though, there are fewer mcguyvered margaritas on family roadtrips. “Be right back,” Anika smiles into her friend's ear and kisses her cheek before rising on a mission for ice. Everyone’s distracted today. Maybe it’s the heat.
Katsuki growls at anyone who walks past and almost gave Deku a heart attack when he came out of the bathroom, so much so he splashed the blond with freshly washed hands and got kicked into the fridge.
“Can I reach for the freezer or am I gonna get a black eye?”
“Try me.”
Katsuki doesn’t crack as she approaches, but still moves to let her close.
“You know,” she coos and breaks the seal on crisp frozen air, “When a puppy’s too aggressive you’re supposed to play with their paws.”
“You fucking drunk?”
Anika smiles into the artificial breeze and directs six ice cubes out of their tray with a finger. Even Dynamight, elven in his rage, can’t be bothered to quip or fight today. Can’t even be bothered to go home. What planet did everyone ship off to without her? They can’t let guests in, can’t check their phones, can’t mix a decent drink or queue any good music— Why’d Mina throw this party anyway? Graduation was ages ago. Why did she need balloons twenty minutes before this was all supposed to start? Katsuki simmers beside her, resting his hips on the rounded edge of the counter.
“You feeling particularly territorial?” She drags an ice cube over the back of his hand as she closes the door and ducks slightly to avoid recoil. His forehead beer shrieks with more pressure but neither ice nor punches fly.
“M’not your dog.”
“Not with that attitude you’re not.” She plucks a floater from the counter and dumps it in the sink behind them. He’s got no bark today, nothing’s made him bite.
Katsuki glares over his shoulder into the small sea of people chattering and setting games up on the floor. He glows. Fairy lights fizzle at the base of his neck where sweat stains the ripple of back muscles and his cotton t-shirt. Every part of him is heavy and polished. He is intentional even with his back turned. A skull hoodie hangs in the entryway and Anika can pick out his shoes from thirty others because of how particularly he lays them together. She lifts her hips over the counter to sit. He’ll let her closer. He always does even if only to get in striking range.
“You’re soaked, short-fuse.”
“First day with eyes?”
Can he feel her eyes tracing his throat? His waist is so narrow compared to his shoulders that the hem of his shirt hangs slightly over his jeans, a black belt hugging milk skin in Mina’s obnoxious colored strip lights. Katsuki reeks of caramel. He finally turns back around. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Anika pretends like she hasn’t been watching and flicks the tap water on to fill her cup, “Like what?”
“Like you’re starving. I’m not in the mood.”
“You’re fucking delusional,” she huffs, nursing water, “You’re the mutt here not me. And I’ve been eating, unlike someone whose too focused on looking cool to join the goddamned party.”
“Not in the mood.”
“When are you ever.”
Katsuki’s beer finally cracks when he drops it on the counter. The two heroes hiss without a/c in an apartment they don’t realize is watching them. Always a fist fight, he is always just one wrong look away from snapping or bursting but never storming away and today is no different even if he tries to feign disinterest. He can’t pretend forever in their kiln for two. She’ll wash away the clay.
“Not starving like a dog you fuck, starving like the ocean. You’re breathing all my goddamned air so go back to your wasted friends.”
“I’m keeping one company right now.”
His jaw puffs as he grinds his teeth, “Just leave me alone.”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“Bump up a few ranks and suddenly you think you’re the people’s fucking princess—”
“Oi—”
“—you’re not the center of the universe tsunami.”
“Why’d you even come if you’re just gonna sulk in here away from everyone?”
“I’m doing an infinitely shittier and shittier friend a fucking favor being here and putting up with interrogation practice from the worst bad cop in the country wasn’t part of our agreement.”
Katsuki’s asahi sits four good steps behind him for how far he’s leaned into his frustration and Anika’s legs part to accommodate him at the sticky lip of the counter. His white knuckles go pink. It’s been two weeks since she’s seen him outside of a television screen and nine since they’ve been alone. Finals and a nasty burglary at their internship agency. The last two awake in a 3A study session and the first awake on the last day of school. Catching the sunrise, they’d both lied.
“You’re beating the shit out of anyone that comes into the kitchen, just go home if you hate it here so badly.”
“I can think of something,” he growls, closer, “that’ll make me hate it less.”
“m’not letting you kick Deku again.”`
He stops short of shouting but it’s too late to hide from her now. He forgot he was trying. “You got your ice now git, back out to sea or wherever the fuck you stir shit for a living.” Stevie fucking Nicks moans somewhere in the thrum of their friends and their friends and those friends’ terrible mixology skills as clear liquor stings every nose in the room and both of the kitchen monsters pretend like their ears aren’t hot with drink. From another party, another planet, Katsuki bobs under her spice just once, glaring— how could he not, she’s one breath away pressed back into the counter between his arms and curling her own fingers over his without looking away.
“Still soaked,” Anika hisses and a door slams somewhere as Katsuki snatches her wrist with Dynamight strength to keep her quirk from killing him.
Sparring with her is suicidal, the only way to win is in close quarters after Katsuki has enough ammunition hidden to hold her tight and detonate. He’s knocked them both unconscious fourteen times. She’s won conscious twice and tonight might make three because Anika’s grin explodes cheshire with her back on kitchen tiles and a dripping hand crushed at the wrist.
It hurts when she wants it to, when the sweat leaves too quickly or explodes while she’s stealing it. She can be gentle. She is gentle with him, the water fell off of his knuckles as if he wanted it to and floats in pools like the tide on her palm.
“Have it back,” she purrs and before she can flex her fingers, before Katsuki can lunge, someone whistles from the living room.
“You’re up, bombsquad.”
Suddenly the apartment is infinitely larger than it should be, stretching and winding with two bad tempers at one end and the rest of their old classmates ogling at the other, fingers on their noses. Shinsou pokes a head through the window and all the sweat drops from Anika’s hand to the floor.
The linen closet, the walk-in beside the bedroom door, hangs open in white light with Momo and Jiro scurrying out to much fanfare. Uraraka must have been the one who slammed the door open because she stands beside it now bashfully checking the wall behind it for holes.
“Nose went, sorry guys.”
Katsuki backs off before Anika can kick him and more quickly than he’s moved all night, reaches for his hoodie.
“Not so fast Kats!” Kirishima grins. He’s humoring Kaminari’s burnt pizza with one hand and rubbing his nose with the other on a makeshift cardboard stool beside the window. Doing a favor for a friend, huh? Anika slips off the counter when she understands, finally understands the whole weird evening. Shitty margaritas keep her from exploding and in fact help her reach out for a rapidly escaping Dynamight. “Katsuki!” Kirishima whines again, “Please!”
“I told you he wouldn’t!”
“Leave them alone,” Momo tries to soothe but Jiro covers her mouth and kisses the back of her palm.
“Hey,” Anika whispers because she knows if it’s anyone, he can hear her through white noise, even tossing on a jacket and kicking on his shoes. The crowd boos and she presses closer “Katsuki.”
“Fuck off! M’not playing juvenile drinking games.”
“Thought you weren’t drunk,” she pushes just a little too far and resists flinching when the hero jolts back around, crackling, snarling. Her hand lands on his chest instead of an arm when he pressed in and the force pushes her back.
“You knew. Fuck ev—!”
“I didn’t Kats—“
“Going home.”
“I’m—” she doesn’t want that, “I shouldn’t have teased—” and grips the fabric over his heart just a little bit tighter so he won’t leave without a fight. “It was too much. Can I just talk to you for a minute?”
“Seven minutes!” someone hollers from the living room and then wheezes from a blow to the head.
“Whatever, can we just talk for seven minutes? God knows when I'll see you after tonight.”
Katsuki’s frozen mid-hoodie to glare, hunched; damp little hands on his chest where he can’t hide his heartbeat. Anika wipes a running pearl from the curve Katsuki’s collarbone. No quirk this time. It’s faint but Sero murmurs into a bad drink, “Scared she’s gonna steal his secrets or sumthin and take his precious ranking.” There are some grumbles, nods, and Shinsou snorts and ducks his head back out. Right, suicide.
"Start the timer,” Dynamight growls.
It takes four seconds for Katsuki’s hoodie to hit the back wall (and whip Denki with the zipper) and for the kitchen monsters to cross the humming room towards the linen closet. “Seven,” he spits to the closest onlooker, Uraraka, who startles and juggles her phone in her hands a few times before getting a hold of herself. Katsuki slams the door behind his company without looking back and there’s an unspoken consensus that this wouldn’t have been such an excellent idea sober.
It wouldn’t have happened sober, it barely happened tipsy and Anika tries to gauge the difference between gin and water in her veins before fumbling for the lights. Immediately, the skin between her thighs is damp. The heat of such a tight space would be unbearable if it weren’t for a little stained glass window and the crosswind from under the door, but still, she considers in the dark, it’s miserable. Momo’s bodysuit was stained gray from sweat and Jiro wasn’t just pink from a kiss or two.
“They’re trying to kill us,” she huffs, and cracks the little window before pulling on the light. Katsuki beats her to it.
He’s a dick but he’s not belligerent, and more than anything he’s made to be a hero. He made himself to save people, his parents made him to love him and his friends love to have him. Anika loves to have him. Even if he takes up all the room in this box with his overworked chest and red glare, it shouldn’t matter how weird he’s acting and she shouldn’t be so childish.
“Short-fuse,” she sighs, and turns. Apologies suck, but she’s not a student anymore, she’s not a intern, she’s not even in college, she’s a hero, they’re grown they’re busy, and she’ll devolve forever into immature goads cos he’ll let her. They don’t have enough time anymore to be kids or be close or pretend. “Katsuki—”
He sighs too, and dips too far down for her to stop him, eyes closed, to brush his lips over hers. His exhale tastes like hops, warm oats in the second Anika gives herself to think before she raises a startled hand and swings, claps it perfect center, into Katsuki’s cheek. The whole affair is noisy like they’re two crabs boxing in a paper bag. He stumbles into a towel rack, clutching his face, Anika holding her own and both of them staring, both of them slack jawed, as someone turns her music down outside.
“What the fuck!” She squeals after getting a grip on the windowsill behind her.
He can’t back up any farther than the doorframe and with his back on wood Katsuki, barks “I could say the same!” holding tight to his red face.
“I— I was trying to a apologize first!”
“First?! You were gonna kiss me anyway but when I beat you to it I get a concussion!”
“No— well, wait— apologize before you, you could—!”
“Could what!”
“I was gonna explain!”
“You hadn’t even done a fucking thing yet what would you have explained?!”
“You— no, explain myself!” Seven minutes is an awfully long time Anika stares, fingers to her lips. She hadn’t thought about what to do after apologizing, or how badly she needed to kiss him. Needs to kiss him. “I was— I just, miss you.”
Katsuki howls before freezing, before his face drops from harsh lines to one smooth stare.
“I haven’t seen you! I don’t get to see you, at home, at work, and when I finally do you won’t even talk to me. You won’t—” Anika swallows and tilts her head side to side before trying to look back up. She fingers a short piece of hair by her ear, “You don’t like parties, you don’t like anyone but Kirishima I don’t know how I’m supposed to see you anymore and I finally get the chance and I act like a second-year, I— you— you were lying. I knew something was wrong— or you were thinking about something or— er— and I was just so excited you actually came, I would talk to you about anything, you could told me about paint drying, but you’ve been acting so weird all night and I just,” Anika heaves, her hand falls from her mouth and takes up the job of a fist, “I’m sorry.”
Katsuki flinches, slightly more wide eyed than sobriety would usually allow him, a foot or two away from one of his favorite people and the cling of her summer perfume. “You’re not an idiot,” he sighs.
“You’re not listening!”
“I’m always listening.”
“You’re never getting a fucking apology from me again.”
“I don’t want one.”
“Gun to my head.”
“I never want another, don’t apologize.” This closet is not up to code so Katsuki moves slowly to avoid splinters and another blow to the head.
“I shouldn’t have used my quirk,” Anika sneers, “I’m sorry.”
“Stop it.”
She pushes off the back wall, “M’sorry for teasing you about that dumb paper bag,” freckles and sweat mixing. She has never been wrong.
“Anika.”
“I’m sorry you’re stuck in here with me.”
Every thought is one inch closer, “I’m not.” Until Katsuki can lift his hands just and inch and her jaw is there waiting to fit perfectly into them.
“It’s your turn.”
“I’m not sorry.”
She sucks her teeth but lets him closer.
“I’m not sorry I kissed you, I’m not sorry we’re fighting—”
Her freckles shift with her cheeks and she wets her lips, “It’s hard unless we’re fighting, huh?”
“I like fighting with you,” he bites, hint of a smile, like he couldn’t possibly get the thought out fast enough. “I just, I don’t know how anymore. We don’t live together, we don't work together—”
Anika smiles back, “How long?”
“Two years.”
“How long left?”
“Five minutes.”
It’s enough, she traces the back of his clammy neck and dips into a kiss.
Katsuki did his homework in the common room on nights Anika made dinner. He didn’t say anything when she clipped her hair short, though she only got compliments if he was somewhere in the room. He was always in the room, the first hero to respond to a call for backup, the last person home after a drunk night out, grumpy but inevitably the one you know will answer a text when someone can’t walk on their own.
She always imagined him more timid than this, to kiss, a nerd too nervous to hold hands, but Katsuki presses as deeply as she’ll let him and they both fumble towards a wall. Four legs tangled, he holds the back of her head away from wood and glass and bites a lip to keep her close. Anika wraps her fingers in his tshirt to stay standing, suckling, kneading, begging for him to lose slightly more composure and make some noise for her. A tongue across his teeth gets her what she wants. Katsuki grabs her wrists and throws them over his shoulders so she has something to hold when he hoists her off her feet and onto the top of the step ladder.
“y’move too much,” he growls knowing she can’t hear him, knowing he might not have even said anything and melting a little when her tongue slips gently under his. He has to cup her cheeks to keep from falling over. He’s not close enough. Anika pulls him the only place he can still move, crumbling on top of her and poised on the steps of a shitty metal stool. He fits between her legs like a puzzle and she gasps into his mouth when he rolls too deep.
“Bad sound?” he startles and settles again when Anika shakes her head with her hands in his hair. Not bad, not drunk, not gentle, she wants to watch him fall apart but she’ll cherish a dark closet on a sticky night if that’s the best the universe can do on such short notice. He holds his weight as much off of her as he can in the tight space and the subtlety of his strength gets steam trickling from her ears.
He drags a thumb over the swell of her lip to catch his breath in the heat but she shudders and chases his hand with her tongue. God, if he was clammy before. Anika clutches his shirt and his wrist and for more than a second Katsuki skewers commons sense to the wall. She sucks just hard enough to pull the tip of his thumb past her lips. Too hot, it’s too hot, Katsuki is soaked, sweat floods the swell of his chest and drips between his knuckles. He doesn’t need to see to know what kind of face she’s making as she takes his fingers in her mouth and the thought stalls him just long enough— wet, swirling— to— tight— whimper. Katsuki snatches her jaw with his fist and buries his face in the damp of her neck. Salty, she trembles when he kisses her there and makes a frazzled sound when he growls.
“Don’t,” he groans with slightly more sense, “my quirk—"
“I’m waterproof.”
“Y’rnot bombproof.”
“Well don’t light a candle,” she grins into the dim and him with her, dragging his lips from her ear to her throat and sinking his teeth into the pulse of her perfume.
He likes the sound she makes when he bites even more so he does it again. Again, he pulls the fragile skin between his lips and soothes over the welts he makes with his tongue when her fingers start to dance on his chest. Between her lips and her collar bone he rises to kiss her and falls to bruise her on the path that makes her breathe loudest and when she finally has to cover her mouth he pauses and kneads harder. How quickly would her breasts warm in his fingers? How quickly would she—
“Katsuki,” Anika huffs above him and his eyes dart to hers, glowing black in the moonlight. “How long?”
“Don’t care.”
She drags her fingers over his forehead and claws through the front of his hair without another word. Her nails are heaven on his scalp. As much as he hates to look away, his eyes roll and she swallows, sinking off the steps and into the crook of his neck. Better, her lips are better than her nails and when her hair tickles his chin it’s all Katsuki can do not to dissolve around her. Anika works gingerly and she pulls the collar of his shirt down to reach the parts of him she wants. His ear, throat, the vibrating skin above his heart, all bloom in pink bruises while her nails rake his shoulder. He manages to drag his hands up her waist and bite his own tongue to stay quiet, but hardly more than that. Melt into her lips when she lets him. They sink together into a spot between stacked towels and a previously functional laundry horse and forget for the next however long that there will be things to talk about in the world outside of Mina’s linen closet. Forget sleep, forget work and shitty apartments, forget clothes— Katsuki's hands glide over wet skin and under the hem of Anika’s top. Every inch closer is the drum of her heart and her clumsy desperate fingers tugging at his belt loops in gasps caught between their lips.
“Alright, jesus!” Mina’s pop pink voice shrills in a sudden wash of light and fresh air and her kitchen monsters startle on the floor. “Party foul! No fucking in the closet.” Katsuki’s hoodie sails over Mina’s shoulder from the crowd and onto Anika’s head.
His tshirt is a v-neck in four different places and Anika’s hair spikes in every direction but the one that she styled it in after work. Black charcoal is smudged on all fours walls, on every clean sheet on the shelf, drips in streaks and fingerprints over the bruises at both of their throats and generally illustrates the whole incriminating scene.
“Happy?” Mina’s overliquored drink rolls her eyes for her and she turns back around to the stunned crowd, spilling a little onto Sero, “everyone happy? Can we please have normal parties now? One’s that don’t gamble with my security deposit.” She turns again, overshooting it, ignoring the hands Kirishima hovers right over the spot her head would land if she tipped over, “And you two, did we fix you or was was this a terrible idea?”
Katsuki blinks up. Anika tightens her lips and Shinsou pretends not to watch through the window but smiles nonetheless in a puff of smoke on the fire escape.
“His stance was firm—unyielding—and for the first time, she felt a strange sense of relief wash over her.” EEEEK SCREAMKNG KICKING MY LEGS IN MY SEAT !!! the way you write really immerses me in the world, absolutely love her friendship with the ashido too!! It’ll be fun to see her friendships with ashido and the rest of the gang develop! I wonder if the rest of the class will slowly warm up to her?? You’ve created such an interesting and compelling character and story excited to see more !!
GRAHBHHHHHHH
ANON PLEASE YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO MEEEE. YOU LITERALLY HAVE ME GIGGLING TEEHEE. BYE LIKE IM SO EXCITED FOR YOU TO READ MORE I HOPE TO HEAR MORE FROM YOU 💃🏽💃🏽
Hello!! I want to apologize to you all for falling off the face of the earth. To open up a little bit, I fell into a pretty bad depressive episode. Last month I got broken up with, and have been dealing with the pain of that which, of course, made me very sad. I then had to deal with going back to school. On top of that I sprained my ankle too 😭😭 YALL I AM GOING THROUGH IT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK AFSGSHAAKL
Long story short, I just wanted to apologize because I am not tryna be inconsistent as I have previously been. But I am human and I wanted to give myself the grace of being human if you know what I mean. That being said, Rebirth is still heavy on my mind and she will and still is being worked on. Originally I thought of trying to get a chapter out every week or two, but I realized my chapters are going to be DENSE so promising a release date/schedule is not realistic. I will aim for one chapter a month, give or take, since I am still a student. ANYWAYS I LOVE YOU GUYS AND THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING REBIRTH AND ME AND READING MWAH MWAH MWAH
i’ve been following rebirth since before the rewrite and i love ki and can’t wait to see where the new story goes !!
anon!! 🥹🥹🥹 thank you so much for the kind words. I literally can’t explain how much i appreciate your prolonged support. I hope you like the changes that are to come hehehe
AAAAAH i love the new fic, Im so excited to see where this goes I think you’ve created such an interesting character and premise and I love me some angst and I absolutely love your writing. Excited to see more and I hope your week goes well :)
GRAHHHHH OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON!! 💗💃🏽💗💃🏽 Your kind words mean so much than you know hehe ☺️
I am also very excited to get the future chapters out. Sit back and buckle in cuz this is going to be a hell of a ride 😈
“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.
mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”
“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.
“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.
“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.
you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?
once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.
“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”
his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.
“my pencil?”
you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.
he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”
now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.
your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.
“sorry.”
he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.
“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”
you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.
“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.
“so, what’d you score on your test?”
“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”
“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.
you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.
he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”
right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.
you nodded slowly, processing his information.
“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”
“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.
you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?
regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.
once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.
aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.
“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.
“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.
bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.
≽^•༚• ྀི≼ — hi!! come on in. i'm grey, the owner and chef of this place. curious to know if this spot is for you? keep reading :3
BIO | she/her, '01, afro-latina, libra sun ☼, virgo moon ☾, scorpio rising↑
i'm a broke college student that burns out easily when overwhelmed, so requests are NOT open. i will only be focusing on writing and publishing my multi-chapter fic, rebirth (but please feel free to interact~). i solely write sfw and exclusively write for mha (for now). i'm deadass a boomer when it comes to social media so please don't mind me being lost
After being chosen to premier on the new T.V. Show Turbulent, you’re prepared for the loads of fun to begin. Instead, things start to change as you and a certain hot-headed blonde try to figure out the truth behind the curtains.
A/N: OF COURSE IT WAS ENDEAVOR’S FAULT 🙄😤 BUT WOOWEE YALL TURBULENT HAS BEEN COMPLETED AHHHH!! MY FIRST SERIES DONE AND IT FEELS GREAT! THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND I HOPE U BADDIES ENJOYED 😋
NO REPERATIONS AFTER I JUST TOOK MY BRAIDS DOWN,?? I can hear the shackles now. When will they be free ✊🏽
No but real talk I ran my ass off at my track meet today (as I fucking should yknow) and was mad tired so this actually made my day (even tho I got first in my heat in 300 hurdles and second in my heat in 100 hurdles)
Everyone when Shoto said that was his dad
The camera people recording college kids get traumatized
Everyone watching Daddyzawa and his dry ass questions
After being chosen to premier on the new T.V. Show Turbulent, you’re prepared for the loads of fun to begin. Instead, things start to change as you and a certain hot-headed blonde try to figure out the truth behind the curtains.
A/N: OF COURSE IT WAS ENDEAVOR’S FAULT 🙄😤 BUT WOOWEE YALL TURBULENT HAS BEEN COMPLETED AHHHH!! MY FIRST SERIES DONE AND IT FEELS GREAT! THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND I HOPE U BADDIES ENJOYED 😋
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