PAIRINGS. s. todoroki, i. midoriya, k. bakugo ✗ fem!reader
SYNOPSIS. you discover joy in life's simple pleasures, from sipping strawberry drinks to playing video games. your world shifts when a whimsical wizard insists you experience true love, throwing you into an otome game scenario. three boys enter your life: a mysterious one with a troubled past, a childhood friend with hidden feelings, and a distant, fiery blond who challenges you - all awakening emotions in your heart that you never knew existed.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — CUPID IS ONLY FOUND ON WATTPAD AND QUOTEV. hi, jiyuu here! i don’t normally go on here and post. i just occassionally read random stuff lol but i wanna self-advertise my own work since.. i like the attention 😂🙏 and the wattpad algorithm is doodoo .. 👎🏻 but please if you love mha as much as i do, give it a read on your own time! likes and comments are appreciated, happy reading !!
One merit of fanfic that I don’t think gets mentioned enough is that while you are starting off without having to create new characters and worlds, you are also uniquely constrained by the characters and worlds that you choose to write about, because the audience has expectations for them that you must match.
In that sense, it’s essentially a writing challenge in consistency with a specific style, in a particular range of voices that aren’t always your own.
What’s the worst thing a fanfic can be, in my opinion? Out of character. If you’ve come to a fic to read about a specific character, with a distinct personality, style of speech, and set of morals, and the author of the fic hasn’t done their job properly, you won’t feel like you’re actually reading about that character, and you will have a hard time reading the fic.
There is so much that goes into creating a unique character that is easy to not think about until you have the extreme constraint of writing the actions and speech of a character you did not originate, where you have to match the thought process, ideas, and syntax of someone else, essentially trying to insert yourself into the mind of the professional writer who originated the character, and extrapolate how they would make their creation react to the situation you’ve put them in, what words they would put in that person’s mouth, etc.
So fanfic is an excellent exercise in making sure your characters have distinct personalities, and making sure those personalities are consistent. Because if they’re not, your audience will be able to pick up on it immediately.
Ficmas Day 10: Mistletoe - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader
Sometimes festivities catch you by surprise
You had been floating around with Katsuki all day. Store to store, running errands for his family, dropping off gifts of handmade meals from the Bakugous, donating the large boxes and bags he'd been ordered to take care of. The cold wind and crunching snow didn't stop him. Nor did you, catching up much slower than you would have liked, struggling under the heavy bags.
How he managed to be just as efficient whilst being quick you'll never know.
"C'mon dumbass, we got one more delivery before you can pass out," he said from a few feet ahead.
He was dressed warmly, pants still sagging, thick, red jacket buttoned up, fuzzy scarf bundled over his nose. A pinky hue warmed his pale skin, berry red eyes peeking out from the fluffy mountain of blond hair.
"Ahh ... my feet hurt and my arms are giving out I swear. Slow down. Please." You groan, adjusting your grip.
He quickly took it from you, hauling it over his shoulder like nothing - which it wasn't - pace never faltering. "I told you, y'didn't need to come. Could've been done with this by now."
Two smaller bags were held in his free hand. The additional bento gifts for the people the deliveries were made to.
You hurried your steps, rubbing the soreness out of your arms. "Well, yeah, but I wanted to help. Sucks that all I've really been doing is keeping you company though."
"This is my shit to deal with. Parents make me do this stupid crap every year, I know how to handle it fast."
"Well ... yeah, I know. But I was ... around. Can't ever have too much help, right?"
He spared you a glance, still, unreadable, usual hardness present but muted. Then looked away.
"You've been hanging out with shit nerds again. C'mon, it's that next building up ahead."
You didn't have time to match your steps in his bootprints as he only sped further. Just took a deep puff of breath, adjusting your gloves, and chased after him.
You weren't entirely sure what was in all these big packages, probably extra clothes or old toys his family didn't need anymore, but this certainly was a regular enough occurrence for Katsuki. All the people behind the counters chatting for as long as he let them, patting his back, complimenting him, acting familiar, smiling and joking like he was a common guest in these places.
You stayed off to the side, just watching every interaction. His hands twitching with a need to hurry and finish up everything else, but still staying, oddly polite for someone typically so brash.
It made you smile. Which he promptly dismissed.
"That's the last of them. We can go home now." He huffed, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
Only one of the smaller bags hung at his wrist now.
Who that was for?
You followed along, a stride behind him. "It barely took an hour. I don't know how you always do stuff like that."
"What stuff?"
"Y'know," you hurried up again, finally falling in step beside him. "You do things in record time. And I guess you could consider this easy, but even the hard stuff like hero training you do so well in."
"If you can't accomplish the simple stuff then how the hell do you expect to do anything else? People are too fuckin' lax nowadays, lower the bar just so everyone can get through. Shit's fuckin' stupid."
"That wasn't my point." You sighed. "I was complimenting you, idiot."
"I know."
You bumped your shoulder to his, smile curling anyway.
"Here." He shoved the final regular sized bag into your hand, heat of the meal inside muted after its time being taken through the snowy city. "For helping me out and shit."
You peered inside, a shock flooding your chest. A happy kind. But still shock. The tupperware was fogged over from steam, decoratively patterned in candy cane stripes, a post-it curling over the lid with a typical "happy holidays" note scribbled on it.
It made you extremely happy, heart skipping with joy at the idea of knowing you were thought of.
But, "you didn't even know I was coming today."
The baby pinks already rouging his skin darkened to a raspberry and he tucked further into his scarf, head turned away.
"Well ... maybe I made too much. Shit. Why are you always reading into everything? Annoying dumbass. Just say thank you and fuck off."
You smiled, holding the bag in one hand. "Okay, Katsuki."
You kept walking on in silence for a while, feeling the snow sprinkle your coats, boots crunching over the fluff that grew on the pavement, hair turning more white than natural. Children skipped with their families, squealing under the flurries, running around and dodging snowballs. The windows of the tall buildings frosted in the corners, some of the smaller pop shops decked out in reds and greens, menus and signs posted with the seasonal items in stock, Christmas lights strung over the exterior. Even in the daylight it looked pretty. You hadn't had much time to appreciate it with Katsuki's rushing. You savored the imagery.
Till Katsuki grabbed your arm again, already hauling you across the street and under the small bus shelter.
"You're shivering like an idiot over there. We'll wait here for the damn bus. Makes the way home shorter."
The bench was too wet from melted snow to sit on but it at least provided some shade from the weather, finger doodles drawn into the snow covered walls from other people who'd passed by.
A quaint little rest stop.
Even colored lights hung over the awning here.
That and, "this spot, huh?"
"The hell are you whining about? It's the nearest one." Katsuki gruffed, looking up and down the street.
"Yeah. But ... look at it."
He squinted, surveying the station for anything amiss. Not that he believed anything was, he wouldn't have brought you here in the first place if it was unsafe in any way. But he could humor you at least.
"Get your eyes checked, dumbass. Ain't shit here."
You pointed up.
His tongue clicked. "What, you're really gonna be picky at some overgrowth? Suck it up, we ain't gonna be here long anyway."
"That's mistletoe, Kacchan. It's not 'just a weed.'"
He rolled his eyes, already reaching up. "What, need me to be your gardener now? Fuckin' baby."
You shook your head, stepping in. Your free hand braced on his chest, pulling him down to press your lips to his cheek, a heel up to support your shift in weight.
He went stiff under you, hand still poised in the air, eyes wide and head empty. A burning, crackling sound bursted like sparks in his gloved palms.
Then you stood back like nothing, watching the bus that had finally arrived slow to a stop before you.
"... t-the hell was that for dumbass!" He shouted, face turning red as his shirt, hand slapping up to cover the cheek you'd kissed.
"That's what mistletoe does."
"The hell it doesn't! Don't get on that damn bus now!"
"Y'know, you'd think with all your smarts you'd know such a widespread tradition like that." You mused climbing onto the vehicle as the doors curled open.
"The hell are you talking about? Get back here!" He rushed on behind you, bus shaking with his movements.
Passengers mumbled their complaints, glaring his way to which he only glared harder back.
He followed you to the back of the bus, sitting close, anger in his gaze and heat in his palms. You were crowded into the small corner, unable to squeeze past him if you tried. One hand barred the window behind you, other gripping to the point of steaming the seat in front of you.
"The fuck was that?" He demanded.
Your heart had been pounding already, with fear and excitement at once, that dismissiveness only present to disract yourself from your actions. Why you thought that might save you, you did not know, cause you already knew Katsuki wasn't a person to back out and walk away when things happened, especially not to him.
So now you were forced with this confrontation happening in the back of this bus.
"It's for good luck. You're supposed to kiss under mistletoe. I don't want to be cursed for life cause I didn't follow along."
"Bullshit." He grit out. "Why the hell would you listen to a dumbass thing like that anyway?"
"Cause it's fun."
His glare narrowed at you.
"It's not just me who does it, everyone does. If you don't want to participate then you just avoid it."
He still didn't seem to be taking it.
You sighed. "Fine, maybe I also wanted to kiss you a little too."
The top corner of the front seat burst with a melted plastic smell stinging the air.
He cursed quickly withdrawing his hands and slipping off his burned through gloves.
The passengers looked your way only to immediately avert their attention as Katsuki told them off for it.
He waved away at the smoke as best he could.
"Didn't need a fuckin' plant to tell you, you could do that." He mumbled.
You perked up. "Katsuki?"
You saw him seize up for a moment, ears turning just as pink as the rest of him. But he doubled down. "Said if you want to kiss me, you can just do it, dumbass."
You watched him careful.
And he kept his focus on the seat he'd have to pay up for ruining just to avoid your reaction.
"Can I do it proper?"
He swallowed.
You turned him towards you gently by a hand on his shoulder.
"Katsuki?"
His nod was curt, barely noticeable, you probably should have double checked in case.
But you simply drew him in closer to you, eyes focused on his lips still your breaths mingled more closely. Peeled his scarf lower. Closed your eyes. Then kissed him with a gentleness that betrayed the shaking in your hands and party raging inside of you.
And he gave way.
Hands cupping your hair, smashing you close in a desperation that contrasted your attempts to hold back, scarf untangling round his neck.
His nose was just as cold as yours where they smushed against each other. But the rest of him was warm as a furnace, one you'd never bother getting away from.
If all this ever took was the initiative to get this close, then you'd spend every following day inserting yourself into his space.
Cause that airy feeling in your gut was one worth getting addicted to.
i wrote this webpage that walks u thru looking after yourself when you know a thought is making you spiral. deployed it publicly bc i wanted it on mobile and i thought other people might like it too
Katsuki has already turned sixteen by the time you wake up from your coma. Despite the late nights he spends at the hospital by your side, when you wake up, he is inevitably, at school. You wake up to Mitsuki Bakugo holding your hand.
Tags/CW: Bakugo x fem! Reader, high school sweethearts, estab! relationship, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, reader in a coma after the war, class 2-A is a soft menace, mom (in law lmao) Mitsuki is mothering, spoilers for season 8.
Despite it being hard to accept at the state you find yourself in, or even realise it at first, Mitsuki is the one by your bedside when you wake up.
For a second you’re convinced you’re dreaming. The room is too bright, the sheets too stiff, and Katsuki’s mom is sitting there like she fought her way past three nurses and a steel door just to sit and stare at you. Which, knowing her, she probably did.
Her arms are crossed, but her foot is tapping like she’s been waiting a long time. Like she’s been worried. And that solemn look on her face is screaming an apology you don’t recognise yet.
“’Bout time,” she mutters, voice sharp but thin around the edges. “You scared the hell out of us, kid.”
Your throat tightens as you glance, puzzled, around the room. It’s empty, aside from Mitsuki's chair, your bed, and the iv attached to the tender inside of your elbow. No friends, no parents, not a begrunting boyfriend… just Mitsuki and a hospital room you don’t recognise.
In a swift movement, she clasps your hand inside her palms. “I’m sorry sweetheart. Your parents couldn’t make it to Japan yet.” she says and you blink at her.
The lump in your throat starts bubbling in pain. Your lip quivers next, eyes watering at the fraction of a second. The moment you try to move, the dull ache in your ribs reminds you why you’re here in the first place.
“I’m so sorry,”
You try to speak, but find your lips feel like they’re glued together. It hurts when you pry them and it hurts even worse when you try to speak.
“Ka–”
Panic ensues at the sound of your voice. How long have you been here? You don’t even recognise your own voice. Where you could hear softness, you now hear raspiness, broken sounds that can’t form a word.
But still, you want to ask—The last thing you remember is watching Katsuki fall to the ground with his chest torn, you lurching towards Shigaraki with all you had and white hot pain everywhere in your body.
“Kats–Kaah–”
Mitsuki’s eyes flick to your abdomen, the monitors attached to you, then back to you again. Softer, barely “Katsuki? He usually doesn’t leave until he passes out sitting up. Brat’s got stubbornness.”
“Miss—Mitsuk—Mitsuki, my m—mom,”
The sound rips out of you like gravel dragged across concrete, and Mitsuki is already moving— one hand on your shoulder, the other hovering like she wants to fix something she can’t reach.
“Hey, hey— don’t force it,” she says, voice dropping into that hushed, frantic register only mothers have when something hurts their kid. Or a kid who might as well be theirs.
She reaches for the small cup of ice chips on the tray next to your bed, scooping a few with the spoon and pressing it gently to your lips. “Just this, sweetheart. Slow.”
The cold hits your tongue, sharp and clean, and for a moment it’s the only thing keeping you together. Everything else feels like it’s drifting —your memories, your breath, the distant echo of Nejire screaming your name before everything went dark.
Mitsuki watches you swallow, her jaw tight, eyes shining with things she will never say out loud.
“You’ve been out for a few months,” she adds quietly. “Masaru is trying to get ahold of your folks, along with the doctors but… you know how time zones are. And… circumstances.” Her mouth twists like she hates how uptight she’s being. Like practiced softness physically pains her. “We didn’t want you waking up alone.”
Your chest pulls tight. It shouldn’t mean as much as it does. But it does.
Your fingers clutch weakly at the blanket. “K–” The name falls apart in your throat again.
Mitsuki seems to understand anyway.
“He’s alive,” she says firmly. “He’s at school and he’s healing, but he’s alive. Stubborn little shit tried to pretend he wasn’t feeling okay just so they wouldn’t kick him out of your room last night. He’s been visiting everyday.”
Your breath shudders. Relief hits so hard you feel dizzy.
“And— just so you don’t freak out later—” Mitsuki adds, rubbing your hand with her thumb in a rare, almost guilty motion, “he might start crying a lot.”
That makes you freeze.
Mitsuki sighs, leaning back in the chair like the confession took something out of her. She stops herself from telling you the doctors had announced to everyone that you would probably not make it, not too long ago.
“Don’t tell him I said that. He’ll yell at both of us.”
She glances toward the door, then back at you. “He’s gonna be pissed you woke up without him here. Believe me. But, we’ll tell him after classes are over. You okay with that sweetheart?”
You nod, or at least you think you do. Your head barely moves, just a slow dip that makes the world tilt a little. You’re not sure if you’re agreeing or just reacting to the tenderness in her voice — something you’ve never quite heard directed at you like this, so softly, before.
“Good,” Mitsuki murmurs, like she was bracing for you to argue. Her hand squeezes yours gently, thumb brushing over the back in a slow, steady rhythm that feels like it’s meant to keep you anchored.
You swallow again, rough and painful. The word “classes” sticks in your mind like a burr. Katsuki is… at school. The school is alright if that’s the case, and maybe, your friends are too, your teachers, All Might. There’s so much you want to ask, but such little strength inside you.
Mitsuki watches your face carefully. “He wanted to skip,” she says, rolling her eyes as if the memory frustrates her. “Said he didn’t care about his damn education if you were—” She cuts herself off. Too sharp. Too honest.
Another small, guilty sigh. “Anyway. We made him go. The teachers insisted. Kid was a wreck. No sleep, no food… I swear he almost blew up a vending machine because someone told him to ‘keep his chin up.’”
Despite the pain, a weak ghost of a laugh bubbles in your chest — a tiny sound, but it pulls at your ribs like something tearing.
Mitsuki immediately notices. “Easy. Easy, sweetheart,” she whispers, leaning in, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to talk yet. You don’t have to do anything yet.”
But you want to. You want to ask what happened, how bad it was, whether Katsuki’s really okay or just putting on a front because that’s what he does when the world is falling apart around him.
You try again, voice scraping out of you like rough smoke: “H–how…?”
She shakes her head fast, stopping you before the sentence can hurt you more. “Later. When Katsuki’s here.” Her voice softens, unbearably so. “He deserves to hear you first.”
Your breath stutters, the weight of that landing somewhere deep and tender.
Mitsuki reaches up and brushes a loose strand of hair from your forehead. The gesture is so gentle it barely feels real.
“We’ll tell him after school,” she repeats softly. “He’ll come running the second he hears. And he’s gonna be loud, and dramatic, and probably hug you too hard. But he needs this. He needs you.”
Her voice cracks just a little on that last word. Barely noticeable, unless you’re looking for it. And you are.
“Rest now,” she adds, settling back into her chair but not letting go of your hand.
______
Later that evening, the hallway outside your room is louder than it should be for a hospital — muffled bickering, restless footsteps, a sharp whisper that’s definitely Kaminari complaining he’s been standing too long. With your eyes barely opening from your earlier slumber, you can hear Kirishima gently shushing him. Someone — Mina, probably — keeps insisting they should “just peek in real quick because what if she’s awake?”
You also catch the hissed argument that’s delivered as a response “Dude, stop— she might be asleep again!” and “I’m not stopping, you stop!”
Their silhouettes shuffle under the doorframe’s faint light, shadows overlapping like they can’t decide whether to crowd closer or bolt down the hall.
You blink slow, the world tilting for a moment, and the ceiling swims into focus. Your throat is dry. Your body feels like it’s made of bandages and cement. But your brain? Your brain catches up just enough to realize:
They’re here. All of them. A soft exhale escapes you— barely a sound, but apparently loud enough for the enhanced senses of teens with superpowers.
Mitsuki nods her head towards the door and chuckles. “They can’t wait to see you,” The commotion outside stops all at once, like someone hit pause. Then—
“Did you hear that?!”
“Kaminari, shut up—”
“Wait, wait— I think she’s awake—”
“Katsuki’s gonna kill us if we go in—”
“Oh my god. Just. Check!”
Kirishima’s voice breaks through the chaos; firm, gentle, leader-of-the-chaos-crew mode “Guys. Calm down. We’ll knock first.”
There’s a beat of silence and then three different knuckles rap on the door at the exact same time. Your chest shakes with a tiny, pained laugh that’s followed by a thunderous cough. The whispering begins again immediately.
“Bro— I said one person should knock!”
“That wasn’t me!”
“You literally have the loudest knuckles, Sero!”
“How do you even know that—”
Someone sighs. Hard. You recognise the sound as Izuku, doing that tight little anxious inhale before he tries to be responsible.
“Should I… um… should I ask Recovery Girl if we’re allowed—?”
“No, if Kacchan shows up and we’re gone, he’ll blast us into space—”
“Oh he’s definitely gonna show up—”
You try shifting, just enough to look toward the door. A small movement, but enough to tug at something deep in your gut. You wince, which apparently sends the hallway into frenzy.
And before they manage to organize themselves, one brave soul reaches for the door handle.
Mina’s whisper—undoubtedly its hers—cuts through the noise “Okay, on three—”
You have exactly one second to process that, and tighten your hold around Mitsuki’s hand as hard as you can, before a hand curls around the knob and another, much sharper voice snaps from down the hall.
“Touch that door and I swear to god you’re dead.”
Every single voice outside vanishes. You don’t even need to see him to know who said it. Katsuki.
Last time you laid eyes on him he was in a puddle of his own blood, chest torn, right arm destroyed. The thought alone is making your jaw tremble.
Your stomach flips; your eyes do that stupid thing where they well up so much that they sting and your heart kicks into a frantic rhythm, strong enough that the monitor beside you responds with a panicked series of beeps.
For a fragment, you come to believe this is a dream. An afterlife experience. Some sick and twisted purgatory. Some strange, cruel limbo replaying the moments before everything went black.
Mitsuki reacts before you do. She leans in, her free hand hovering near your shoulder as if she can physically hold you together while the monitor continues its frantic beeping. “Easy,” she murmurs, voice low. “Breathe, sweetheart. You’re fine.”
Her thumb presses gently into the back of your hand, grounding you.
The footsteps outside slow, the scrape of rubber soles against the linoleum deliberate now, controlled in that way Katsuki walks when he’s trying to stop himself from running. There’s a muffled scuffle—someone tripping over someone else during their attempt to scramble out of his path.
The doorknob turns. Not violently, but slowly. Carefully. Like he’s afraid the world behind it might shatter if he enters too fast.
The door opens halfway, and Katsuki steps inside.
He’s out of breath, but it's the kind where he’s trying very hard not to show. His hair, shorter than you remember, is a mess from whatever fight he had with the wind on the way here. His uniform shirt is wrinkled, sleeves pushed up his forearms in uneven rolls, and his tie is gone entirely.
But none of that is what gets you. It’s the way he stops actually. Abruptly.
And not because Mitsuki is in his way or because your friends are whisper-squabbling just outside the door. He stops because he sees you.
Awake.
His eyes widen first, a stunned flicker of disbelief that washes over his face before he can hide it. Then everything in him seems to go slack for a moment — shoulders dropping, jaw unclenching, the tension dissolving so suddenly it looks like his legs might give out.
“No fucking way,” he breathes, so quietly it barely reaches the room. His gaze flits across your face, ignoring his mother’s plea for decent language.
Whatever strength he had walked in with drains from his posture all at once. His breath catches on a sound too close to a sob, and he stumbles two steps forward before genuinely stopping himself, like he’s afraid he might do the wrong thing and make you hurt again.
The monitor chooses that exact moment to spike again, a sharp, accusing beep-beep-beep echoing through the walls.
Katsuki flinches, just barely. His eyes flash to the machine, then to your hand clutching Mitsuki’s, then back up to you. Something like guilt — real, aching guilt — tightens his expression. His head jerks toward yours and in the same instant he looks completely gutted—like the beeping is some damning confirmation that you’re in pain because of him, that all those months of him replaying the footage of you almost getting torn apart in half, ignoring every warning from people who told him not to, all led to this moment right here: you trembling, terrified, trying to hold yourself together.
He tries to say your name, but it dissolves into a choked gasp. Tears are already spilling, hot and unguarded, not even wiped away. Katsuki Bakugo—who never cries—can’t stop crying.
Instinct drags you forward. You try to sit up, to reach for him, anything to close the distance, but the muscles in your abdomen seize. A bolt of pain rips through you so sharply your vision whites out, and you collapse back into the bed with a strangled breath.
“Stay still!” Mitsuki catches your shoulder before you can tear something, her voice shaking now too. “Sweetheart, you can’t move—”
Your hand slips from hers anyway, desperate to get to him.
“Hey—” His voice cuts off, a sob and cracks, embarrassing him. He swallows hard, trying again. “Hey. Take it easy, you dummy.”
He says it softly. Too softly for it to be an insult.
Katsuki kneels swiftly beside the bed, and his scarred hand hovers over yours.
When he finally touches your hand, it’s feather-light, trembling with the same fear and relief burning in his eyes. He doesn’t grip, doesn’t hold too tight, doesn’t let go either. He rests his palm over yours, as if he’s anchoring himself to you while afraid that even the slightest pressure might hurt you.
You notice he’s holding a flower inside his other hand. Your eyes widen at the sight and he looks down at his hand too, muttering “It’s for you. A ‘get well soon’”
“Katsu–tsuk–ki” you breathe out, shakingly.
Your fingers twitch, wanting to wrap around his hand, to pull him closer, to fix the broken edges of him the way he’s holding onto you. You try to shift, to ease closer, but your abdomen flares with pain and you freeze, groaning softly.
He freezes too, instantly still, and looks at you with wide, frantic eyes. “Hey… hey, hey, I—I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking, almost pleading.
Then, slowly, he adjusts himself so he can lean against you without putting weight on your ribs. His hand over yours flexes, releases, flexes again, as if he can’t decide whether to grip or just stay connected to you.
His tears fall freely now, soaking your fingers, and the sound of him crying forces tears to come out of your eyes too.
All you can do is squeeze his hand back, as much as your pain will allow, and whisper his name again.
He takes it, eve though his own hand aches like it’s being pierced, because the touch is not just an ember that you’re alive. It’s the undeniable fact that you’re awake.
And Katsuki is just so, so happy that this one good thing happens to him, he doesn’t even mind that the rest of the class storms inside minutes later and everyone sees him crying.
~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work //
Likes and reblogs are so appreciated but if you you liked this you can let me know in the comments <3
"wait- huh? fuck ya mean I don't?" katsuki had you cornered between his dorm door and his stupidly broad chest. you probably looked dumb looking up at him compared to how intensely he stared down at you. wasn't the ac in his room on? why the hell are you starting to sweat so much?
your mouth opened and closed, then opened just to close again. no matter how hard you tried, no words seemed to come out. he still stared at you, and he doesn't plan on stopping until he gets an explanation as to why you're doubting him now. now that he's finally built up the courage to pour his heart out to you.
how'd you even get here in the first place? you were just supposed to give katsuki a rundown on what the class had planned for this weekend. why did momo have to send you anyway. you heard her and mina mention you and katsuki in a conversation earlier today, but that has nothing to do with this, right?
"y/n." katsuki's ever so gruff voice snapped you out of your thoughts. his eyes search yours for a possible answer, and he immediately fails. katsuki gives up and steps back just the tiniest bit.
"I mean every damn thing I said. I wouldn't just be blurting it out if I wasn't honest. ya think I'd put up the effort to lie to both myself and you? hell no." katsuki rubs a hand over his face, trying to cover up his panic at your lack of response. heavy tension continued to fill the air as both of you anticipated the explanation you were struggling to give him.
"it's just so hard to believe." you break away from his stare and fidget with the end of your shirt.
"you're great and all, don't get me wrong. you're smart, you're strong as hell, there's no doubt there." you sigh, building up the courage to meet the blonde hero's eyes again. you were immediately met with his strong gaze that still seemed to be searching for answers through your eyes. it was a struggle to breathe as you paused before continuing.
"and I'm just... me."
"that's exactly my point." katsuki steps closer again, leaving only the smallest amount of space between the two of you.
"don't give me bullshit about me being all this and that when the sole reason I'm only doing and saying all this is because you're you. I like you for you. unconditionally." despite your attempts at keeping your eyes on his, your strength faltered as he finished talking. opting to stare at his chest instead. katsuki had such a weird effect on you and it was frustrating.
"look... I get that it's hard to believe now." katsuki reaches a hand to tilt your head upwards so he could make sure you were looking at him. for the first time since you walked into his room, you finally let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.
"so let me spend a lifetime proving it to you, yeah?"
just a little rant but like the concept of everyone now switching up on izuku midoriya is crazy cuz NOW YA'LL FIND HIM FINE??? LIKE I'VE BEEN ON THAT SINCE 2018 AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SERIES 🥀🥀🥀
Call me an English nerd, but I would lowkey love for an English teacher to overanalyse and find meanings in my text about things I hadn’t even thought about.
just a little rant but like the concept of everyone now switching up on izuku midoriya is crazy cuz NOW YA'LL FIND HIM FINE??? LIKE I'VE BEEN ON THAT SINCE 2018 AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SERIES 🥀🥀🥀
