COMPANY PROPERTY:

house rules (roommate au)

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary:

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else."

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, slight angst, mentions of tampons (terrifying), suggestive comments, absurdly long, alternate universe characters

a/n: to all of my frequent readers--i have never claimed to be sane :)

*

in the broad spectrum of things, opening the door in nothing but your bathrobe and a ridiculously bright orange clay mask is not the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you. 

oh no, puking on your first ever date at seventeen definitely takes the cake. finding your seventh-grade friends bent over a table reading your diary--in which you wrote many explicit things about them, not to mention, yourself--might be even worse. riding your bike into the pond by your house in front of all of your--much older, much cooler--neighbors, even. picking up your coffee in your favorite cafe and spilling it, which was not only devastating but humiliating because you managed to spill your mocha on every other drink waiting there (effectively banning you from returning) still haunts your dreams. even walking down the street and trying to pretend like you didn't just trip over air in front of every single one of your peers still lingers in your mind, waiting for a moment of peace before it attacks.

you're used to the feeling of dread in your stomach and the nights spent thinking about all of these moments, like a scrapbook in your mind--just there to make your skin itch. 

but, it does get a little bit worse when you realize the man you've opened the door to is none other than a potential roommate; and when you remember that you forgot he was coming. 

or when you have to pull your robe tighter around your abdomen just to make sure that you don't give this man a show before you even shake his hand. 

"is this apartment 214?" he asks, looking right at you--and your legs, naturally--with a confused grin on his face, but grin nonetheless. 

so immediately you slam the door. 

you turn around, with wide eyes, face crackling from the movement, and check your phone frantically. yes, it is the 18th, and yes it is 11:32, which means he was supposed to be here over a half-an-hour ago. 

and also you've just slammed the door in his--satoru gojo, the only person who's even bothered to respond to your ad about an available room--face. 

oh, fuck. 

so you groan, refraining from knocking your head against the door just in case he can still hear, and open it again. a little bit less this time. 

"gojo?" you ask, voice rough and slightly irritated. 

"the one and only. i'm pretty sure this is the right apartment," he says, and you don't fail to notice his tone of voice as he continues, "but if it's not, then fate must've brought us together."

you narrow your eyes, hoping that he doesn't notice the specks of dust that ebb from your skin. "you're late." 

"and you're less than dressed." 

"i thought you stood me up." 

he snorts. "so you started an impromptu spa day? or was this supposed to be another perk of the apartment?" 

you glower, opening the door a bit more just so he can see the fury in your eyes. "i don't think someone who doesn't even text to cancel has any right to judge my self-care practices." 

"i didn't cancel. i'm here." 

"you're late." 

"so i've heard..." he drawls. 

you blink at him, and he blinks back--or at least, you're assuming. because he's wearing sunglasses even though it's cloudy outside. 

and he's aggressively taller than you. he might not even fit through the door. 

you don't look away, waiting for him to break. which he does because you're well-practiced in men of his standard. "so, are you going to let me in?" he asks. 

"are you going to apologize for being late?" 

"i'm sorry that i'm late," he says, immediately, with an air of fake sincerity. "i got stuck in traffic. i would've called, but my phone died." 

"really?" 

the smile reappears, as if from magic. "no, but did it make you want to let me in?" 

you glare even harder--which is tough, honestly--and begin to shut the door. until your plan is interrupted by a foot. "excuse you," you say, to this man, who you already hate. and his stupid chelsea boots.

"look, i'm sorry. i'm trying to ease the tension--because honestly i wasn't expecting to get an eyeful this early in the morning, and you seem uncomfortable--" 

you slam the door against his foot again. 

gojo doesn't even wince. "and also, you're, like, the only person with a room in the middle of october. and i... could really use a place to put my bed. so, can i look around, at least? i'll keep my eyes closed every time i'm facing your direction. i can even give you my rent money today if it works out."  

something in his voice already implies that it will. 

and, well. despite your very short robe and your very dry face mask, he is the only person who's even inquired about the room. and you desperately need a roommate; someone to clean up with, someone to make coffee for, someone to argue about toilet paper direction with, and, most importantly, someone who has money and can keep you from getting evicted from the only place you've lived since high school. 

so you sigh. think about moving back home and suffering at the will of your parents. 

it takes about three seconds to say, "will you wait out here while i get dressed?" 

an eyebrow peeks out from behind the sunglasses, as white as his hair. "how long?" 

"ten minutes. maybe twenty." 

"do you have a chair?" he asks and moves his foot from the door. 

and so you close it without answering and rush to your room to find something that's still clean. 

there's nothing that you'll actually wear, but satoru gojo doesn't deserve your fresh appearance anyway. he can have day-old wrinkled jeans and a t-shirt you got when you were twelve. 

as slow as humanly possible, you remove the face mask, trying to keep your hair out of the way, and think about putting on makeup--which you probably would have done, had you remembered he was even coming--but decide not to. 

in reality, it only takes about seven minutes for you to look mostly presentable and get rid of the mugs you left cluttered around the dining room table. 

but you wait an extra four, just to mess with him. 

and then, eleven minutes later, you open the door again to the man leaning against the wall, playing what looks like candy crush on his phone. 

you attempt a fake smile. 

"hey," he says, with that same grin, "you have clothes." 

you drop your face. "i will close this." 

he isn't phased, just pockets his phone and leans in to look behind you at the entryway. 

you roll your eyes, but open the door anyway, and usher him in. he rubs his feet against your welcome mat and toys with a keychain you have hanging from a coat rack, then looks to you, like he's waiting for a tour. which, you guess, he is.

"there's only two rooms, one bath. it's not very big, so if you need a lot of space..." 

"i can manage," he says, and follows you as you walk into the kitchen. "did you decorate?" 

"um... sort of." 

"sort of?" 

"i, uh, had a roommate before and he bought most of the decorations before i moved in. but i've added a few things. i'm not picky about aesthetics." 

gojo hums. "why'd he move out?" 

"we were together and he cheated on me," you say, flatly, as you have been for the past month and a half. "and then told me i couldn't use his netflix account anymore after i broke up with him." 

gojo merely blinks and gestures toward the wall behind you. "so you didn't buy that dancing frog thing?" 

you turn around, rolling your eyes. "no. i forgot that was there." 

"okay, good, 'cause that's hideous." 

you snort, but nod your head and walk down the hallway. gojo's footsteps follow you as you open the door to his potential bedroom. "it's the bigger of the two," you tell him, "but the bathroom is next to mine." 

"did you change rooms?" 

"what?" 

"when your ex moved out. why take the smaller one?" 

"oh," you rub a finger against the wall, rubbing dust off of it. "it was his room before we got together. and then we shared my current room. this was his man... den?" you try, shaking your head. "gaming room? slaughterhouse?" 

gojo snorts. 

"what?" 

"oh, nothing," he says, airy like he's teasing you. "just curious."

you step back so he can walk around, check the carpets for stains, or look for drywall you could've hidden a body behind. but he doesn't, only watches you as you furrow your brows. 

"you're not going to look around?" 

"it looks like the pictures." 

"yeah, but what if there are, like, bugs in the carpet? blood on the walls?" 

"are there bugs in the carpet?" he asks. "blood on the walls?" 

"not that i know of..." 

"great, then it's perfect," he says, and steps out of the room again, whistling as he goes. 

this time, you follow him, like he's the one giving the tour. 

he pauses at the door a couple of feet down. "this your room?" 

"yes." 

"can i see?" 

you scowl. "no. what do you mean 'it's perfect?'"

"i mean, i'd like to live here. it's nice. besides the frog." 

you lean against the wall, trying to inspect him for any mechanical parts. is this a ploy? some joke? "you've barely been here five minutes." 

"twenty with all the time i waited outside..." 

"you can't just take one look and say 'yup, this is good.'" 

"can't you?" he asks, challenging. 

"no." 

gojo's grin seems to widen, impossibly. "well, i'm not picky." 

and somehow you doubt that. 

but you don't get the chance to tell him that, or anything else, because he leans against the wall, still smiling at you, and asks, "so, are we roommates now?" 

"you haven't even seen the lease. or heard about the house rules." 

"house rules?" he repeats, dubiously. like you're making this up (which you are). 

"yes." 

"such as?" 

"no..." you pause, 'cause this is a fickle argument. something about his stupid smile makes you want to argue with him. or maybe it's the hair. or the sunglasses. "murdering anyone in the apartment." 

he laughs, unexpectedly, and sighs. "well, i guess i'll take my murdering someplace else." 

"and... you can't leave any utensils in the sink." 

"okay." 

"and i'm not cleaning up any beard shavings, or sharing my tampons with you, or any people you have over." 

"these are very extensive," he says, unserious. "anything else?" 

"i..." your brows furrow. "no hogging the bathroom. hot water is fickle. and you have to recycle." 

"it might be challenging, but we'll figure it out." 

"these are not negotiable." 

he only continues to smile at you. 

eventually, after staring back with a frown that feels slightly permanent for more than a minute, you sigh again. at least you won't have to worry about moving out. 

"fine. you still want to live here?" 

"mmhmm." 

"okay," and you stick your hand out for him to shake like this is a business transaction. 

and it seems that you'll be seeing a lot more of that grin in the future. 

*

living with satoru gojo is not... well, it's not hard. he's a normal enough roommate. 

he pays his rent on time and doesn't touch the coffee you make in the morning most days--coughing when he does. he man spreads on the couch and watches movies way too loud and doesn't hang his bag up at the door, preferring to, instead, set it on the counter like a maniac. he whistles when he walks, and wears his stupid sunglasses 80% of the time, and grins at you when you're irritated, and, honestly, he's not really half bad. 

he doesn't leave any huge messes for you to clean up (mostly because he doesn't use the kitchen or the dining table ever). he doesn't invite people over that keep you up all night (because he's gone most nights). and, actually, he keeps the bathroom quite clean (even if he takes up well more than half of the shower space with his weird face creams and deep conditioning treatments). 

but satoru gojo is hard. 

it's not what he does, but rather who he is. with his infuriating good looks--taking up most of the fair share for the rest of the population--and his subtle charm, which, if you didn't know who he was, might actually work on you, and his morning voice and his messy hair and just the way he lives. 

like breathing is just what he's supposed to be doing. like he doesn't need to worry about a thing because nothing should matter if he decides he doesn't want it to. 

so easygoing and naturally intuitive and far too exhausting for you. 

because, as a fatal flaw of your own, you love to mess with him. somedays you'll hope he shows up just so you have someone to fight with. just so you'll be irritated instead of stressed, frustrated instead of exhausted. 

it's kind of addicting, in a way. and masochistic, but you've never claimed to be completely sane. 

and honestly, gojo's just asking for it. 

after a mere month of living with his aura around, you come to expect his cockiness. you live to take him down a notch.

so when he's up this early in the morning, whistling like it's his god-given right, you scowl at him just as he enters the room. 

"woah," he says, sliding on a bar stool in front of you. "starting early this morning?" 

"you're banned from talking to me until noon." 

"is this about the ice cream i ate? cause there was only a little left..." 

"no it's--" you pause, frowning at him. "you ate my ice cream?" 

he lays his entire torso on the counter, pathetically. "i was dying, okay? low blood sugar was going to kill me, and i couldn't see anything else but that ice cream and it wasn't even very good anyway, so, really, i was saving you from having to endure the rest of it." 

"you ate my ice cream?" you repeat. 

"i'll buy you more. a better kind. and then you'll understand that i was doing you a favor." 

"i might kill you." 

"i thought we banned homicide from the apartment." 

"i was going to eat that," you whine, shoving his hands away from trying to grab your mug. 

he smiles, too bright for so early in the morning. "yesterday you told me sweets weren't an appropriate breakfast." 

you scoff. "yeah, cause that's all you eat. you need a green smoothie or something in the morning just to keep your heart beating for the rest of the day."

"my heart beats very well, thank you. wanna feel?" 

you roll your eyes and sigh into your mug. "i'll be expecting three pints of ice cream as an apology later tonight." 

gojo has already moved on, typing away on his phone, probably to some groupies he manipulated into loving him. "i can't. it's flip night at laurent's tonight, and suguru has already threatened me into coming." 

"why did you say laurent's like i'm supposed to know what you mean?" 

"laurent's," he repeats, looking at you.

you blink. 

"the bar?" he questions, like you're crazy. 

"okay, sorry, i don't exclusively hang out at bars filled with frat boys." 

"it's very sophisticated,” he corrects, his frat boy nature very obvious. “i mean, i frequent there." 

you laugh. 

"clearly you've never been." 

"i'm still expecting ice cream." 

he sits back in his chair. "i have class all day." 

"like you've never skipped a class." 

"encouraging ditching?" he asks, mock appalled. "what kind of roommate are you?" 

"the kind that doesn't steal her roommate's food. just get one of your servants to pick it up.”

gojo waves a hand at you, and that statement, apparently. and then he types another thing into his phone—to said servants you assume—and grins again. his face must’ve missed the feeling. "how about i buy you a drink instead? you can come with me tonight. meet my friends. maybe make some of your own." 

"haha," you cross your arms. "if they're as bad as you, then i'm good." 

"you'd probably love them. they also like to torment me, even though i'm pretty and perfectly nice to them." 

"i seriously doubt that." 

his eyes--oh, yes, this early in the morning he skips the sunglasses--sparkle like gems. "i have to play wingman for suguru, but it probably won't take long. you can mingle. meet someone. i think you could use a way to relieve some of that stress." 

"oh, you mean the stress that you cause?" 

gojo grins and you realize that you've fallen into his trap. "i'm willing to help out whenever you like," he says, deviously, "you just haven't asked yet, sweetheart." 

"nor ever will," you grind out.

gojo hums and taps his fingers against the countertop. the two of you stare at each other, grin matching scowl, and eventually, he loses the contest. "so, can i plan to steal you away from eternal solitude at six?" he asks.

and just because he's right--in his weird, satoru gojo way--you nod. it might be nice to get out of the house; and meet people other than the lost freshman at work. and because you know that gojo will continue to bother you about it otherwise. he’s a very difficult person.

as if proving it, he grins all pleased with himself, so you add, "but you're buying all of my drinks." before he can get too ahead of himself. 

*

it's not nearly loud enough in this bar. as soon as you walk in, you're sure of it. 

because even with a band up on the stage, singing about loving someone or money or drugs, you can still hear gojo as he flirts with every single living thing in his twenty-foot vicinity. 

he's got his grin on, styled his hair all fancy, and his clothes are signature in the way that you've probably seen him wear the same thing fifty times. maybe in a row. 

but the people in this bar don't care. no, they flirt back like they already know who satoru gojo is. and maybe they do. 

you don't really care, but you do have to drag him along so he can show you where you're supposed to sit and tell you the names of his friends before you get drunk enough to forget. 

it takes three minutes of trailing after gojo like a lost puppy to remember that you hate going out. that you hate everything about your so-called roommate and you should've shoved his invitation down the drain along with him. 

as if gojo can hear this thought, he peeks over his shoulder, smirking at you. "enjoying the view?" he asks, and you try to trip him by stepping on his heel. 

unfortunately, he only swings around, walking backward through the crowd like it's going to part for him. 

oh, wait. it does. 

you frown at him. 

"what? you don't like the music?" he pouts because that would personally offend him, of course. 

"where are we going? i think we've passed that table four times already." 

"i have to say hi," he says like this is obvious. "it's rude to just walk into some place without greeting everyone." 

"do you own this bar?" 

"what? no." 

"then find your friends so we can sit down," you grumble, trying not to lose him in the sea of people. it's unlikely that you've ever seen a bar this packed. more like a club, honestly, but you wouldn't put it past gojo to lie. 

eventually, he does lead you to a table, announcing, with a flourish. "don't worry, everyone, i'm here," while he bows--because of course he does. "and," he adds, "i brought a stowaway." 

you peek around his shoulder to meet three people, all staring at him with the same unamused expression. one, suguru--from the many photo albums and 'trips down memory lane' gojo has bombarded you with--gives you a little wave. the other two just continue to stare at gojo. 

"everyone, this is y/n, my favorite roommate. y/n, that one is suguru," he says, pointing towards him, "which you already know. the short one is shoko, and the blonde one is--" 

"nanami," you cut in, "hey." 

gojo frowns, looking between the two of you. "you know each other?" 

"we have analytics together," you answer, sliding in to sit across them, next to gojo, naturally. "i usually cheat off of his notes." 

"she gets me coffee," nanami adds, like this information is imperative. 

gojo grins again. "why didn't you say anything nanamin?" 

"because i didn't realize." 

"who else could i have been talking about? do you know several pretty girls named y/n? you a player?" 

nanami has a very familiar frown on his face, and is about to say something when suguru seems to kick gojo under the table. "satoru, i told you to stop referring to other people as 'players.'"

gojo merely rolls his eyes. "can't fight the truth," he says.

you almost smile. almost. but your eyes drift over to shoko, who sighs. "how'd you get stuck with this one?" she asks, not harsh, but not quite soft. 

"he promised me alcohol." 

she nods knowingly. 

speaking of, you turn towards him. "you and i both know there's only one reason i'm here." 

gojo flicks your forehead, but stands up. "i'll be right back," he says, "don't miss me too much." 

and you all watch as he walks away, conveniently stopping at least four times to talk to several different people. 

you groan. "he's not coming back is he?" 

"he will," suguru says, not quite reassuringly. "probably. in an hour or so." 

you cover your eyes with your hands and listen as the three of them laugh at you. 

*

it probably is an hour or two later that you see gojo again. 

you'd fallen into smooth conversation with his friends, talking about classes, and dancing, and the fact that you all shared a common enemy. it was easy enough, talking to them, like ripples in a pond. but surely if gojo had stuck around, it would've been more of a tsunami. you could see the appeal--at least for someone like your roommate. they all seemed responsible enough. 

but shoko, after a twenty-second lull in conversation, decided she was better off drinking at home, and nanami quickly agreed. watching them, compared to gojo, disappear into the crowd was a different experience. 

you bite your cheek unnervingly, wondering if it made you a bad roommate to want to let gojo suffer here alone and walk home by himself. 

suguru pats you on the shoulder when he stands up a moment later, brushing his pants. "i'll go find satoru," he says, softly. you feel that same irritation when you realize that gojo had probably lied to you about coming here for suguru. it was almost infinitely more times likely that suguru had come here for him. "do you want me to tell him you went home?" 

"how likely is it that he'll go home with someone else and it won't matter if i wait for him anyway?" 

the dark-haired man considers this with a sly grin on his face. "if i tell him you left, he'll find someone to cling to. but if you're here he'll go home with you. probably drunk, though." 

you run a hand through your hair, waving him off. "it's fine. i'll wait, then. but tell him that the homicide clause doesn't apply to outside the apartment." 

suguru laughs, not questioning this, and walks away. 

you sit there, toying with a glass someone had left behind, watching the people around you dance like it really was a club. with absolutely no one watching. not even god, evidently.

as usual, gojo lied--even though you hadn't really believed him when he said this place was sophisticated. the clear air of stale beer and vomit is enough to prove that.

you almost laugh bitterly, but then a mop of white hair appears in the chair next to you, and his grin is wider, larger than you'd remembered. 

how long had that taken? 

"hello hello, roomie," he sings, leaning close to you. he moves his chair, shuffling across the floor so that he's near enough to touch. "i heard you were threatening me again." 

"you could hear that over the sighs of your fan club?" 

gojo giggles, like he's in on the joke. his breath falls on your face. "i like it when you tell me you're going to murder me, you know." 

"of course you do. how much did you drink?" 

"it's not the quantity," he whispers, "it's the quality." 

"your friends told me you could get drunk off of hand sanitizer." 

gojo leans back, his long legs knocking against yours. "are they spreading those rumors again?"

you kick his foot away from yours but don't say anything. his eyes seem somehow wider right now, even behind his dark shades. almost like you could see them. 

you blink, and gojo does it back. his lashes fluttering just enough to tell.

it almost makes you smile. laugh a little bit at his innocence--especially right now, when he's clearly not himself--some more unperturbed version of who he normally is (if that's even possible). he probably wouldn't even remember if you did laugh at him. but you refrain anyway. 

gojo gasps suddenly. "oh! let's go to the store. you want ice cream, right?" his elbow slides onto the table as he rests his chin on a hand. 

you kick his foot again. "i wanted a drink," you correct, "but apparently you got distracted." 

"'s not my fault," he almost slurs, sadly. 

"are you ready to go home?" 

"i'm ready to leave. so we can get your ice cream. want to share a spoon?" his grin is unabashed. you could tell him that he is a vile, disgusting creature right now and he would probably agree. 

you don't, for whatever reason. 

"i don't think anywhere's open, and i don't want to drag you around while you're this drunk." 

he taps your thigh with a finger. "hey. i'll have you know that i am a very proficient walker." 

"oh, really?" 

"learned when i was a kid and everything." 

"wow, gojo, i'm very impressed," you deadpan, and look around. "do you need to say goodbye to suguru?" 

he frowns. then points to himself. "gojo," he repeats, and into the crowd, "suguru." 

like he's an actual toddler.

you shake your head and stand up, still looking. "can you text him?" 

"i guess," he mumbles, getting out his phone and almost dropping it. he frowns like this is deeply upsetting. 

so you grab it from him. "what's your passcode?" 

"one one one one." you look at him with a brow raised. "cause i'm number one," he answers, pridefully. 

you scoff, but look through his texts anyway, and tell suguru that you're taking him home--and never ever coming out with him again--and then hand it back to gojo. 

he smiles at you. you roll your eyes. 

then he grabs your hand, and begins to pull. "c'mon before they find us," he says, and it doesn't make any sense. 

but were you really expecting it to? 

*

perhaps the aftermath of drunk gojo is even more entertaining than the actual thing. 

shoko hadn't been kidding when she said he was the worst drunk--and even worse when hungover. 

how do you know this? oh, because you woke up at one in the afternoon--perfectly respectable for a saturday--and as soon as you dared to even open your door gojo was already groaning about the noise. so you slam it a little as you leave. 

there's a grunt, like a dying cat, and two minutes later he is walking into the kitchen with slits for eyes and cotton for hair. you're not sure what he's wearing--some video game shirt--but it's wrinkled enough to match your roommate's appearance. disheveled and slightly peeved, he's almost glaring at you--like he's capable of such a thing.

you try not to laugh. 

"where's the bacon?" he asks, almost slipping off of the counter as he leans on it. his hands rubbing at his eyes. 

"sorry?" 

"wheres the bacon?" he repeats, his voice a different register this morning. "i need emergency bacon." 

"so make some. there's a pan and probably a package in the fridge." 

he whines, falling against the counter again. his natural habitat. "i can't make it, i'm dying. you really want your terminally ill roommate to cook for himself?" 

"i want my overdramatic roommate to act like an adult for a change." 

he blows a raspberry, and his face is hidden beneath the tile of your table. you can only see his hair, which looks surprisingly soft for his state. 

"did you lose some pigment in your hair?" 

gojo snaps up, immediately, gasping. he pulls a strand so he can look at it, blinking rapidly. his panic quickly fades, and he blows the strand out of his eyes. "it's just dirty." 

"from what?" 

"i forgot to buy new bedsheets," he grumbles, once again hiding his face. 

"your bedsheets are dying your hair?" you ask, with a raised brow. 

"they're dirty," he repeats, rolling his eyes as he sits up. "i need to go to the store." 

"um..." you look at him as he slumps against his own body, feeling greatly concerned for his survival abilities. "you buy new bedsheets?" you confirm, "instead of washing them?" 

he waves a hand, blowing you, and your clearly audaious sentence away. "bacon," he says, flatly. 

you roll your eyes. "pan," you point, "stove." 

gojo looks like he might start crying.

and it might be his state or the fact that you don't think you've ever seen him like this--in the month you've known him--all lost and confused and a little bit ruffled at the edges. gojo's snark is usually in its top form when you see him in the morning. 

so, just this once, you grab a pan, and turn on the burner. 

"i'll be expecting payment for my time," you say, as you grab the bacon from the fridge. 

and maybe you get your first real smile from your roommate. 

*

you're lying on the couch reading a book when he appears, swarming like a fly. 

"hello, roommate," he says, uncharacteristically pleasant, and then he sits on your legs. you try to kick him, but it proves futile because apparently he's a giant, so you wiggle your way out from under him and sit up, frowning. 

"don't you have a room?" you ask. 

"i could ask you the same thing," gojo tries to tickle your feet, but you move them away before he can. your frown turns into more of a glare. "what?" he asks, "we can't hang out?" 

"no." 

gojo pouts. "but we're roommates," he says as if it's an explanation. like being roommates binds your souls and forever intertwines the two of you. 

"we are roommates because i had an extra room and you had money. that doesn't seem like thrilling grounds for friendship." 

"well, how about the fact that i let you use my hair dryer the other day?" he lays down on the other side of the couch, smirking at you. "that's a friendly thing to do." 

"that's the polite thing to do. i'm trying to train you. speaking of which..." you point towards the floor, "down boy." 

he takes off his sunglasses, throwing them on the coffee table--which probably explains the broken mug pieces you found in the trash the other day--and lays back with his arms behind his head. his eyes are closed. "i can't be trained." 

"clearly." 

you sigh and relax in your corner of the couch, picking up your book again. his presence lurks like a nightmare, but, you figure, eventually, he'll get bored. 

you just can't entertain him. it's like the advice you'd give to a kid being bullied: they only care about your reaction... 

as if proving your point, after twenty-seven seconds of silence, he opens one eye, peeking at you. "whatcha reading?" 

"a book." 

he plucks it right out of your hands, inspecting the cover. how he got across the couch in 0.2 seconds, you don't know. 

"what is this?" he asks, snickering a little. "word porn?" 

you take it back. "it's called romance, gojo. not that i'd expect you to be familiar with anything of the sort." 

he smirks, laying back down. "i have references if you need proof." 

you shake your head, flipping him off, and continue to scan the words on your page without retaining any information. 

seriously, his presence is impending doom itself. 

"it's okay," he whispers, "you don't need to be embarrassed. everyone craves intimacy." 

"i crave my fist on your face." 

he snorts. "that's not very friendly." 

you sigh, dropping the book again so you can look at him and his obnoxious eyes. "look, i'm tired, it's been a long week, and if you don't leave me alone i'll probably lock you outside." 

"probably?" 

"it's that or throwing you out the window." 

gojo laughs once again, but mimes zipping his mouth shut. you roll your eyes and open your book again. your feet are entwined, but you don't mock this--if only because you're sure that gojo will start an argument about it.

the quiet lasts for two minutes and then he turns on the tv. 

you groan and he laughs at you.

*

you're getting used to having him around, at least. and in turn, his friends. because they seem to be a package deal. 

after that night at the bar, gojo--apparently--feels much more comfortable having them over. trying to bake cookies with shoko or interrupting what's supposed to be a study session between the four of them. 

at least, you think, watching this happen, that you're not the only person forced to endure him. 

but it's kind of... nice to see him act like a normal person, for once. to get teased by someone other than you and pout like a begrudged younger brother. the person who invites his friends over for game night (getting aggressively angry every time he loses) isn't satoru gojo, the man whom everyone is drawn to. he isn't some drunk guy charming everyone around him or a roommate that you just happened upon. 

he's just another college student, laughing along with people who aren't nearly as bad as him. 

and, naturally, you find yourself intertwined with these 'hang-outs' because the apartment is small, and you don't want to be left out--no, you choose not to think about how pathetic it is that satoru gojo has more friends than you do, so please don't bring it up. 

and it's on this night when you're not playing uno with the four of them, but rather, watching behind all of their backs and trying to mess with gojo as much as possible. 

you pretend to be idly cleaning in the kitchen, when really you're standing behind him, mouthing to suguru what color he has whenever he's about to win. 

"hmm," the sly-mouthed man says this time, "green." 

shoko puts down a seven, and gojo groans again. "seriously?" he asks, but begins drawing cards. 

you try--and fail--not to giggle behind him. to which, of course, he turns around with an obvious glare in his eyes. "what are you doing?" 

the sink isn't on, and there are no dishes to be seen in the kitchen. nonetheless, you point uselessly to the roll of paper towels on the counter. "cleaning." 

"you're cleaning air?" 

"sorry, i didn't realize i was banned from loitering in my own home." 

he turns back around, looking at suguru for a moment, then back at you. it's very hard to keep the smile off of your face, especially when nanami looks like he's about to break and shoko is pretending to rifle through her cards again. 

how many times have you done this to him? oh, just a mere eight. 

to be fair, it would've ended a long time ago if gojo wasn't such a sore loser. 

he looks back and forth once more. then he frowns. "what are you doing?" 

"do you want me to go hide in my room, gojo?" you ask, trying to scowl. "because i will. i was just trying to be hospitable--" 

"nanamin," he interrupts. "go." 

so another round of cards is placed, and this time suguru plays normally, keeping his face straight to not draw any suspicion. you lean against the wall, enjoying yourself. 

(don't tell anyone, but this is the most fun you've had in a while). 

and then, after a couple of rounds go by, you finally clear your throat. gojo turns to glare at you through his sunglasses and says "go stand behind suguru if you're going to watch. i don't trust you." 

you raise your brows but do as he says. 

and when shoko has to draw the next time, you smile and tap a couple of times on your thigh. 

suguru does his best impression of gojo's grin, and says, "draw four," to shoko. 

she smiles back. turns to gojo. "draw four," she repeats. 

and he stares at the two of them, then the cards stacked on top of each other, and then to you, right across him. "what are you doing? i know you're doing something." 

"satoru, she's just watching--" 

"no, she's smiling." he looks back to you, "you're smiling. you don't do that unless i'm in pain." 

"so you just assume that you're losing cause i'm... what? drawing your cards for you? shuffling the stack so only you get the bad hands?" you cock a brow at him, willing yourself not to look at anyone else at the table. it would only end in disaster. 

"i--" gojo runs a hand through his hair. then he sighs and begins drawing his eight cards. 

and several rounds later--with gojo losing once again--you've begun moving around the table like you're inspecting each player. gojo doesn't let you look at his cards though. 

and it takes a while before he notices anything. particularly after suguru wins for the third time in a row. 

he looks at everyone--brows pulled together, irritated eyes hiding behind his sunglasses, and his cheeks are flushed from how frustrated he is--and as soon as you start laughing at his face, everyone else does too. suguru throws his cards down and shakes his head. nanami shuffles the deck while trying to keep his laugh muffled--but it's there. and shoko is outwardly laughing at him, pointing at gojo and then at you. 

"are you guys stealing the cards?" he asks, almost disbelieving, his voice so childlike that you start laughing even harder. "look at the deck! it's half the size that it was." 

and then he's standing up and inspecting you, sticking his hands up your sleeves and finding dozens of cards hiding there, falling onto the floor. 

gojo gasps in outrage, but it doesn't even matter to you. 

everyone else is clutching their stomachs and gojo begins to pout. "you're all traitors," he's saying, and "how long have you been doing that?" and you almost can't breathe-- 

so yeah. you don't really mind these kinds of nights. and you don't complain about the messes gojo and his friends leave behind. 

*

you shouldn't have given suguru your number. this much is obvious. 

but, to be fair, you weren't exactly thinking when you were talking to him about a self-help book you'd picked up, and he was mentioning a podcast, and then he was taking your phone and putting himself in it--which, in itself, should not be dangerous--telling you that he'd send you a link and that you should let him know if you liked it, and that was that. 

and really, there shouldn't be any repercussions to this. suguru is your sort of friend, and sort of friends can text on occasion. 

except for the fact that he's also satoru gojo's friend. so when you wake up at ten--silently thanking yourself for taking a day off before a week of back-to-back classes and work--he's already texted you, and it's obvious that you failed somewhere in life. 

maybe when you accidentally invited a demon into your house and allowed him to stay. 

from suguru :p : 

hey satoru is supposed to be in class right now and he won't answer me 

can you please kick him awake? 

but maybe it wasn't a mistake. because at least you have a good excuse to give gojo a bruise. 

so you creep down the hall, reluctantly knocking on his door even though it ruins the element of surprise (you're not a monster) and listening as there's no response. 

gojo must be asleep. or dead. honestly, you might've killed him in your sleep--wouldn't be the first time. 

so you peek the door open, realizing now that you haven't been in his room since he moved in, and watch as a figure slithers under the covers almost before you notice. gojo is completely covered except for the foot he's left hanging off of the side of the bed. 

"get up," you tell him, looking around at the sparse decorations he's put up. there are books, candy wrappers, and socks all over the floor, but it's not the messiest room you've ever seen. which is slightly surprising, considering all that you know about gojo. 

he whines from under the cover, turning so you get a view of exposed skin on his back. "sleeping," he says as if you might believe him. 

so you creep over trash and textbooks and pull the blanket right off of him. 

gojo is already looking at you, pouting. his hair is in his eyes and his mouth is puffy--probably from kissing his pillow in his sleep. "what if i was naked under here?" he asks you, very seriously. "i don't let just anyone see that, you know?" 

"you're wearing the same silk pajamas you wear every night." 

he tries to pull the blanket away from you, his fingers peeling yours away. he huffs. "it's the principle. you don't just wake a man up from slumber." 

you snort. "did you travel a century in your sleep?" 

"yes, now go away." and then he falls back into the blankets, his words muffled. 

"you have class, your highness. i've been sent to fetch you." 

one eye appears from under the blanket. "how do you know my schedule?" 

"telepathy. now get up." 

"i can't," gojo fake coughs. "i'm sick." 

"suguru said you'd say that." 

he groans, turning over and muffling a few explicit words that sound like a curse upon his best friend. 

you poke his back. "did you sleep through your alarm?" 

he doesn't answer. his body has gone limp like you might not notice that he's there if he stays still for long enough. so you pull his hair, turning his head towards you. "you're not usually this whiny in the morning," you tell him. 

"why are you so mean to me?" 

you hum, pretending to consider it. "i think it's the hair. i find it pretentious." 

"i could sue you. discrimination is very serious. i've got a good lawyer, too."

"i'll sue back for mental damages." 

he laughs, and wiggles from your grasp. 

you sigh and finally sit down at the edge of his bed, observing the lollipops he's left lying on his bedside table. gojo's bones seem to crack as he sits up with you, moaning the whole way. 

you're silently observing him--with his slightly red eyes and heinous mouth. you're not used to seeing him like this in the morning; usually, he's chipper and annoying. when he walks into the kitchen in the morning you half expect him to start singing. 

but this gojo is tired. he rubs at his eyes. "did suguru text you?" 

"yup." 

"he's a terrible friend." 

you nudge him, almost like an agreement. "why aren't you in class?" 

"what's even the point of going? it's not like i get a reward."

"i think the reward is graduating, but you might have to fact-check that one." 

he nudges you back and then takes your hand. his fingertips are soft as they trace the tendons and veins he can see on your skin. his hands are softer than you'd have expected. his eyes are wary as they look towards the floor, his mouth twisting in displeasure. but he doesn't stop touching you, he does so idly that you almost don't notice. "i have an a in the class," he tells you, "and i already know most of the material so why would i go to every lecture?" 

maybe it's the way he says it; so sure and nonchalant, in his typical over-dramatic fashion. maybe it's just that he's never mentioned any of his classes to you, or the fact that he's taking any. maybe he's just crazy--that's the most likely option--but you're suddenly curious. 

"what class is it?" 

"theoretical physics." 

you whistle, shaking your head. "and you already know most of it?" 

gojo drops your hand and looks at you. his eyes are wide. maybe he's just realized that he's been talking to you this whole time. "when i was a kid my, uh, my dad had a bunch of textbooks in his office that i used to read through every time i got in trouble," he grins, "which was a lot." 

"i can imagine." 

"well, it turns out you can only read something so many times before it becomes ingrained in your brain." 

you pull at his bedsheet. "do you have a test today, or something?" 

"no, suguru just thinks i'm lazy." 

you laugh, because he is. gojo rolls his eyes at you so you don't say it. you're a little bit surprised, actually. you knew that gojo wasn't stupid (or at least, you might've known) but there's something about the proof of it. like you can't just read right through him. like maybe there's still more to learn about your roommate and maybe there always has been. 

or maybe you're just tired, and he's always had the strange ability to draw irrationality out of you. and also he's an idiot.

"i just..." he starts and his smile fades, but only a little bit. he keeps a layer on while he peels a layer off. "i mean, i like the class. math is cool. but i just don't feel like it today, you know?" 

and there's something about his voice as he says it. steady and true, as always, but softer. but compeltely honest. 

and you've heard him complain about a million things, like every time you and suguru talk about something he doesn't understand or when the door isn't unlocked when he gets home, or when you won't add his one shirt to your laundry. you've heard every whine and every groan come from his lips. 

but he's not complaining about this. just confiding. 

and there's such a drastic difference that it takes you a moment to respond. 

but you do eventually. "yeah, i know," you tell him and rest a hand on his thigh to squeeze. 

and the way that gojo looks at you after--like you might just be saying it to make him feel better--is perplexing. his eyes are blue and maybe you've just noticed this--just started to realize that you're actually sitting with him like a normal person. and that he actually looks grateful. 

you shake your head, willing yourself to look away, because maybe there is something sort of magnetic about your roommate. and it feels impossible to only have noticed this now. to realize how warm he is next to you, and how your muscles tense up when he shifts. gojo is looking at you, and it might be the first time.

so you stand up, flicking his chin. "i'll tell suguru that you're puking your guts up." 

"really?" 

"yup. but next time you sleep through a class i'm going to wake you up by pouring ice water on your face." 

he grins. "cruel." 

"and i'll record it." 

you step over candy wrappers and dirty socks as you leave his room, and as soon as the door is closed you sigh in relief. you're probably better off never opening that door again.

*

it's a ridiculously cold night when he shows up. 

you're sitting at the front desk in the library, pretending to study for a mid-term, and trying to smile at the fifth lost library card you've heard about tonight. you got this job at the beginning of the year, and it pays horribly. but at least you can sit around and study, most weekends it's quiet enough to take a nap, and no one tends to bother you when you're drooling all over the reception desk. 

most weekends, that is, because as soon as he walks in through the door--letting in air so brisk that it has the potential to kill you--it gets significantly louder. 

because satoru gojo is not affected by trivial things such as snow, or blizzards, or the fact that the library is supposed to close in less than ten minutes... 

still, you don't really notice him--a rare circumstance that you will question later that night--until he's right next to you, breathing in your ear. 

"slacking on the clock?" he asks, and just for a moment, you almost disembowel him with the pen you're holding in your hand. 

but then you grunt, used to this sort of intrusion from your roommate, and push his head away. "how did you find me?" you ask him, because, honestly, this job is just an escape from his neverending antics at your house (no, it doesn't matter that you got the job before you knew that such an annoying person could possibly exist). 

"i microchipped you in your sleep," gojo says, smoothly, sitting in the chair right next to yours, swiveling around. "i thought i told you about that?" 

you blatantly look at the clock and ignore him. "you know that the library closes in seven minutes?" 

"...and?" 

"so go torment someone else," you answer, standing up with a stack of fileable papers, "i'm busy until eight." 

"i'll help," gojo says, eager as always, and takes half of your stack. "where to?" 

it is from two months of experience that you know he will not leave you alone. even if you chew off his fingernails and keep them to make into necklaces, gojo will follow you around as long as you make it clear you don't want him to. 

so you walk towards the copying room, smiling at all of the sleep-deprived students you pass by and rolling your eyes when gojo does the same. 

"how did you even find the library?" 

gojo walks like he has absolutely no equilibrium; knocking into you every couple of steps, and then falling in the other direction. it must be a consequence of all of his strenuous leaning. 

so he bumps into you as he replies, "tracker," like it's obvious. 

you snort. "no, seriously. i didn't think you knew that libraries existed. aren't you allergic to reading?" 

"hey!" he tries to trip you. "i'll have you know that i am very studious. top of my class." 

"that's why you pay suguru to write your papers for you, right?" 

gojo makes a small noise in the back of his throat. "he doesn't write them," he grumbles. "well, not all of them." 

you snort and open a door for him to follow through.

"my study group meets here on wednesdays," gojo answers, finally. 

"you're a part of a study group?" 

"where do you think i go all of the time?" 

you briefly consider this, setting the papers down. "cemeteries to mourn all of the people you've annoyed to death, probably. or your girlfriend's house." you shrug.

gojo sets his stack on top of yours, diligently lining them up. "i don't do that every night," he drawls, rolling his eyes. and then he winks at you. "and i don't have a girlfriend. thanks for asking." 

you mess up his stack and turn away from him. "sorry, i meant girlfriends as in plural. girlfriends." 

"nope, again." 

gojo follows closely behind you as you begin to lock up all of the spare rooms, turning off lights and looking for any lost items. "commitment issues?" you ask, fake sympathy clouding your voice. 

"sweetheart, if you want me, then just say that. you don't need to pretend to worry about anyone else." his cockiness is infuriating, but you don't even bother to scold him for it. you turn towards him with sharp eyes.

"do i seem worried to you?" 

"no, but you're a bad actor," gojo hums, fingertips grazing along your skin as he inspects your face. "denial is serious. you might want to see a doctor." 

"you would know," you answer, glaring and pulling away from him. the two of you walk as people begin to trek out of the library, no longer held captive by the idea of studying. 

gojo is much too close, as usual, his sweater brushing against yours. 

"how'd you even know i was here?" you ask him, after a minute of silence. 

"please," he answers, grinning down at you. "i got a PI as soon as you gave me my key." 

you squint. "did you actually?" 

he laughs. "no. you told shoko, and shoko told me..." 

you nod, clearing the desk of your things, tossing your bag at gojo for him to carry. "so why are you here?" 

he clears his throat, unplugging the cord to your computer and wrapping it around his hand. "i was walking by, and i thought i'd see if you wanted to come with me for drinks after your shift."

"drinks?" you repeat, taking the cord from his hands. 

"flip night." 

you groan. "i am never participating in that again after what happened last time." 

"it wasn't that bad." 

"i had to drag you home and you almost threw up in my hair." 

gojo smiles. "consider yourself lucky." 

you push him out of the way and put your coat on. then you turn off the lights and push in all of the chairs, gojo not helping at all. "i didn't even get my drink," you remind him. 

"okay, so let me make it up to you."

and his voice is a bit different. still arrogant, naturally, still smiling and easy--but maybe he means it? maybe beneath his, frankly, soft exterior, he feels bad for getting drunk before you could? maybe he's not actually a complete monster? 

you laugh that thought away as soon as it comes.

you sigh. "are your friends going to be there?" 

"yes, our friends are. they suggested i invite you." 

you sigh--again, because the air is quite thin when gojo is around--and consider it. for just four seconds. but eventually, you shake your head. "i can't," you tell him, looping your arm around his so you can drag him out of the building. 

"why not?" 

"i'm tired, and i still need to study for a test on monday..." 

"do it in the morning." 

you give him a blank look. "i won't want to study if i'm hungover." 

"then don't study." 

you let go of his arm, shivering from the cold. gojo, of course, is not wearing a jacket, or even a little bit bothered by the air. "you're a terrible influence." 

he grins. "i get it from you." 

you shake your head, keeping the smile off of your face. "maybe some other time? when it's not freezing, and i don't have a big test?" 

gojo looks like he wants to argue with you some more--which he usually does--but eventually, his grin ebbs into something simple and he nods. "okay, but you have to come next time i ask." 

"no. what if i'm sick, or something?" you definitely would not put it past him to ask you as a method of torture. 

"that's what alcohol is for." he sticks out his hand, too big and too sly. 

but you relent, shaking with him, and rolling your eyes.

"okay, gojo. have fun. do not wake me up when you get home." 

and you turn to walk away, but his hand catches your wrist. "what are you doing?" he asks, brow furrowed. 

"...going home?" 

he lets go of you and flicks your forehead. "you're not walking back by yourself," he says, like it's a crime. "c'mon." 

and he falls into pace with you, even with his longer legs and fervent energy. 

"this is stupid--" you start to complain, but gojo reaches for the strap of your bag, sliding it off of your shoulder. he then slings it on his own, and pulls you in a bit closer by the hem of your jacket. 

he doesn't say anything, just shoves your hand in his pocket, and whistles as he walks you home. 

*

its a couple of weeks later when you're standing at the door again, trying not to open it more than necessary. 

but, really, how wide is too wide? will a half-opened door signal any longing? will he think that you want him back if you open it more than three inches to pass him his box of stuff that he'd left behind and take your key back? 

how do you navigate the trade-off of a frog statue that will probably haunt your dreams till the end of time? 

"key," you say, without any pleasantries, not bothering to even really look at him. 

even though he looks just the same, your ex. still the lying cheater you'd almost fallen in love with. 

is it wrong to miss his netflix password more than him? 

"thanks," he says, and you've probably been standing there with him for thirty seconds when a head appears on your shoulder. 

white hair gets in your eyes, and you try to push gojo away, but he's already intruded on this exchange and you know he's not going to leave. 

"go away," you tell him, not very softly. 

"hello," gojo holds his hand out over your shoulder, because, again, he is ridiculously tall. "i'm--" 

"key," you say again, swatting his hand away. 

your ex looks at your new roommate--with all of his charm and irritating sunglasses and perfectly shaped teeth--with obvious disdain. you want to push both of them out the door and live here by yourself forever, but unfortunately, living prices disagree. 

so you grab the key from his hand, give him a bland smile, and slam the door with gojo's fingers still in between. 

he pulls them back just in time, still almost on top of you, and smiles when you turn around with a scowl. "a friend of yours?" he asks, slyly. he's about as subtle as a third-grader.

"no." 

he messes with your hair idly, pretending to fix it. "i noticed an obvious absence where our dancing frog used to be." 

"i told you, that's not mine." 

"so you gave it away?" 

you cross your arms. he is far too close to you. "you told me it was hideous." 

"it was," he nods, vehemently, and you know his eyes are grinning at you behind those dark shades. "but now there's an empty spot on that shelf." 

"we can put your tongue there when i cut it out," you give him an innocent smile and walk past him to sit on the couch. your pocket burns with the key you put there, metal like an obvious stain on your skin. 

it's not that you care about him anymore, really. you don't, not even when you lay alone at night and think about him. it's more that... he doesn't think about you. he didn't, and he wouldn't have, even if you were still together. 

is it wrong to be wanted by someone whose opinion is worth about as much to you as a penny you could or could not pick up on the street? should you crave being cared about by someone as awful as him?

you want to throw his key in bleach. maybe take a dip yourself.

gojo follows you, throwing himself down on the couch, and brushing you as he does so. he is very used to this kind of proximity, and the annoyed look you give him. "so that was your ex?" 

"yes." 

there's a brief pause, and a nice person might leave it like that. might try to console you, tell you better off. but satoru gojo is not nice, and he probably never has been. "really?" he asks. then clicks his tongue. 

you interrupt whatever obnoxious statement is supposed to follow: "if you're about to say that there are a lot of more eligible bachelors, including yourself, then i'm going to say that you should probably make a zillow account." 

gojo pinches your thigh. "i would never say something like that." 

you look at him, just barely able to make out the shape of his eyes when he's this close. "you told me that last week when i was complaining about dating apps." 

"well, it was true then." 

you roll your eyes. 

"i wasn't going to say that anyway." 

you hum, relaxing into the hold his legs begin to have on yours. despite his abrupt and terrible personality, gojo is very warm. and he's already intruded into so much of your space--your home, your head--that it almost feels normal. 

with his thighs pushing against yours and his fingertips trailing up the back of your neck. 

you should slap him away, but you don't. 

the last person you cuddled with was the same man who gave you the greasy key in your pocket. 

you look at gojo with inquisitive eyes. "really? no bad pickup line? you were going to say something meaningful?" 

"would've blown your mind, but you interrupted..." he teases, and pulls on a strand of baby hair. 

"whatever will i do now?" 

his hand falls from your neck, and if you weren't as comfortable as you are currently, you might think about what he's doing. 

like the fact that you haven't even questioned this, or his following you around, or the fact that he knew you needed someone to pull you away from that door. 

you don't think about that, but maybe you should. 

still, his hand wraps around your shoulder, and you slump against him without question. 

"i was..." his voice is softer, calmer than you've maybe ever heard it. it should jolt you away from him. it should do anything but keep you planted on the couch right next to him. "i was just going to say that i'm glad he's an idiot." 

"getting turned on by my pain?" 

he laughs. "no, but, i mean, your pain my gain." 

you don't even notice it when he slips off his glasses, his fingers curling around your forearm. 

"where else would i find a roommate that threatens me with bodily harm?" he asks, right in your ear. 

it's true enough, you guess. and at least for a moment, you don't want to rip off his arms. 

and gojo mutters something that sounds like "stupid," but you aren't listening.

*

gojo has called in your agreement; that is the only reason you're sitting at the bar, watching him dance around with shoko--purposefully stepping on her toes--and sipping on some drink he ordered for you.

it's terribly sweet and reminds you of lotion but you drink it anyway. it's not like you bought it, and you're sure that gojo wont buy you anything else until finish it. plus it's giving you a light buzz, just enough to feel comfortable sitting there, and not like you want to run away.

it's not as busy as it was last time, the music slightly quieter, the air in the room less stiff. gojo seems less energized tonight--considering that he hasn't abandoned any of you to talk to the houseplant in the corner--even with the dancing. 

which he is terrible at. it's like watching an eight-month-old learn how to stand. or a man trying to impress absolutely no one. his limbs move like they aren't even attached to his body.

"is he drunk?" you're asking suguru and nanami--who have been sitting there longer than you have. "i didn't see him order anything." 

nanami laughs and suguru ruffles your hair. "that's satoru completely sober." 

"...are you sure?" 

"yeah, he doesn't usually drink. even that," he nods to your drink which you're sipping with a wince, "is too bitter for him." 

you raise a brow, watching shoko frown at him, and then nudge him away. "he drank last time i came, though?" 

suguru nods, looking away like he knows something you don't and nanami snorts.

"what?" 

"he was nervous last time," nanami answers. he's got less than a smile on, but it's better than the frowns you've observed sitting next to him in class. 

your brow furrows. "about what?" 

suguru is about to answer, nudging nanami not very subtly, when the very topic of conversation pops up, bumping into you as he squeezes himself in between you and suguru. his presence is an interruption in itself, but he's smiling like he always does, acting like he's been there the whole time. 

you might've pushed him away a week or two ago. now you just sigh and move a little so he can fit.

"did you miss me, sweetheart?" he asks you, leaning against suguru. "don't worry, i'll dance with you next."

"no, and i don't dance." 

gojo rolls his eyes. "everyone dances." 

you look pointedly between him and the group of people dancing in the middle of the room. an image of him almost tripping over shoko makes you smile. "well some people shouldn't." 

suguru laughs and gojo grins even wider at you--his hair is slightly sweaty and his eyes are peering at you over the glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. "let's test that theory," he says, taking a step back. his tone is nothing less than suggestive. and his fingers wiggle towards you, beckoning for you to follow.

there's a twinge in your stomach and you adjust in your seat, frowning at him. "i told you that i don't dance." 

"well, i do. and you owe me for last time." 

you balk. "owe you for what? making sure you didn't get murdered on the street?" 

gojo pouts, his face so unserious and completely genuine at the same time. "you made me dance all alone. you didn't even come watch." 

"you left me--" 

"just one dance?" he asks, leaning in towards you. his eyes are sparkling. "i'll get you another drink." 

"you'll get me that anyway." 

"i'll let you pick it this time." 

"that's usually expected, you know?" 

he ignores that, "c'mon," he pleads, "you know that you want to." 

"i don't know that, actually." 

and then someone coughs behind gojo and you realize that your friends have been listening to this entire interaction and that you'd completely forgotten they were there. how long has he been standing like that? just two inches away from your face? 

"just go, y/n," shoko says, "put the rest of us out of our misery. i've been listening to him whine all night." 

"hey--" gojo turns, his voice defensive. 

but you take another sip of your drink, sighing as you stand up. "fine," you tell him, rolling your eyes when he turns to you with a smile. "one dance, and you can't ask me for anything else tonight." 

his teeth are like rows of knives. sharp and inviting. "okay." 

he holds his hand out for you again, and you take it, feeling that strange pull in the pit of your stomach. 

it's probably just the alcohol, though. 

*

you don't know how long you've been dancing with gojo. 

it started with one dance where he didn't do anything except twirl you around and sway with you, like he'd accepted the fact that you weren't exactly light on your feet, singing along to the music in your ear, making snide remarks about where you'd placed your hands. moving them like pieces on a chess board.

his breath was hot on your ear. condensation on a glass. 

and then you'd gradually moved to letting him lead you, after who knows how many songs, following his steps and not apologizing when your foot slammed against his, or when you bumped shoulders with him, probably creating marks on your skin. 

and then his hands were on your hips, his chin resting against your shoulder, and it felt almost nice to be dancing with him. almost relaxing to forget momentarily about where you were and who you were with. it shouldn't surprise you that you're comfortable with him, but it does. there's no worry about the way you're looking at him or if anyone is watching the two of you--but then again, you might be slightly drunk. 

gojo hasn't commented on how long the two of you have been dancing, and evidently, you've let the alcohol sway you into staying for more than just another song. 

so now, with his lips on your ear, you're almost smiling into him. your heart is fast, and the adrenaline rush you're experiencing is a pleasant thing; if someone ripped out your heart right you wouldn't even notice.

"see?" gojo says, his voice just a murmur with all of the music swimming in your ears. "you're not so bad." 

it sounds like something else to you.

"you won't be saying that in the morning," you tell him, stepping on his toes, but he doesn't pull back or move too quickly. if you thought rationally about his movements you might notice that everything he's doing is slow; like you're an animal he's trying not to scare. 

"i'm used to it," he pulls back a little bit. "shoko does that too." 

"'cause you deserve it." 

he laughs and leans in, so you follow him. 

are you just swaying now? or is he leading you in something more complex? a dance you've never heard of, or a simple in and out? 

you don't know, and you really don't care. 

after a moment, you sigh. "i've never danced with anyone before," you whisper to him, almost like not saying the words at all. it might be a lie, you're not quite sure. 

your words are just thoughts now with no sort of intervention between your brain and your mouth. intoxication fills your lungs. 

"really?" 

"mhm," you hum, "no one's ever asked me." 

"i don't believe you," his voice might be teasing, or serious, or he might be barking at you.

you laugh anyway. gojo's hands are firm against your skin. he feels kind of hazy, like a dream. so you laugh again. 

"you okay?" 

"i think i might be a little drunk." 

he snorts, his breath short. "really? i didn't think you'd be a lightweight." 

"you're a lightweight." 

"yeah, but you already knew that. i only drink when we come here, anyway. nanami doesn't like having to drag me home." 

"you're heavy," you agree, looking up at him. you can see his eyelashes from under his glasses. you can see his tongue as he moves it, and the tip of his nose. you can almost feel it when he swallows.

"sorry," he teases. his face looks different under these lights. it looks different when you're looking at him this close. 

"you're kinda pretty," the words fall from your mouth as you think them, and you grin. "huh." 

it shouldn't be an odd realization, but it is. his skin is almost translucent, and his mouth is sinful. his eyes are wide and bright and satoru gojo could be a sculpture if he wasn't a man.

gojo looks down at you, his brows raised. "you just noticed?" 

"i don't look at you a lot." 

"oh, please," he shakes his head. "i've caught you staring." 

"i only stare when i'm worried that you're a robot planted by aliens or something. you say weird things." 

he laughs, and his hands squeeze your waist. he could stab you in the back right now and it wouldn't even matter. you're not even worried about it. he could flirt with you all night and you don't think you'd quite mind.

you giggle at the thought, heart beating fast with every breath that comes from him. 

"what?" 

"you're not a bad roommate, you know?" you ask him, but maybe you're asking yourself.

"i'm not?" 

"no. you're actually... kinda considerate. my old roommate--my ex--he never wanted to go anywhere with me. he wouldn't have asked me to dance." 

"why not?" 

"i think he thought i was stuck up. or embarassing. or not worth it," you breathe, almost airly, the words are true but they don't matter to you. not like this, pressed up against him. "i don't know." 

gojo's brow furrows. "how?" 

your brows furrow. "how what?" 

"how could he think you're not worth it?" he repeats, and you laugh back. because it's a joke.

"you'd have to ask him." 

"i don't think i'll ever be talking to him," he answers, voice rough. "it wouldn't be good for either of us. and i don't trust people with such terrible taste." 

you giggle at the thought of the frog sculpture, the disgusted look on gojo's face. you can almost see through him.

"you shouldn't," you answer, not even thinking.  

there's a moment where the room is quiet, everyone inhaling at the same time, and then exhaling. you feel like you fit here, somehow. like everything is moving at just the right place. this silence is a comforting feeling, the bubbles bursting in your stomach reiterating it. 

"hey," gojo says, interrupting that feeling. 

"what?" 

"you're a good roommate, too. you're not stuck up. or embarassing." 

"i'm not?" 

he smiles at you. "well, you're a little mean." 

you smile back. "only to you, satoru." 

his face drops, but you don't notice. you lean against his chest again, your eyes fluttering shut. if you were focused enough, you could feel his heartbeat. but you don't. and you don't watch as he swallows. as his voice falters, for only a single second.

but you do look at him when he says, "my friends like you." 

"they do?" 

he laughs, pushing his sunglasses back up on his face. "wasn't it obvious?" 

you shake your head. you're not sure how long you've been standing with him, or if it even matters. you're not even sure if you're still in the bar, or your bed, being covered with your blanket, tucked in by gentle hands. 

how long has it been now? 

"i like you too," gojo whispers, "just so you know." 

and you could be at home, with your roommate. you could be right next to him. it doesn't matter, because you only whisper, "good," and then it's all gone. 

*

when you wake up the next morning, gojo is already laughing at you. 

your headache is a curse. your mind is in shambles. and your body aches with the manipulation of only one person. 

you hate your roommate and his terrible taste in drinks and that he doesn't even say anything when you slump against the counter, not even bothering to make fun of you or complain about how terrible you are when you're drunk. 

he just smiles easily, ruffling your hair.  

and when he starts to cook some bacon in the pan, you don't say anything, but you go and stand next to him, letting him hold you up. 

there are no words. only the popping of oil in a pan. 

and that feeling, of course. because it wasn't the alcohol. 

*

so maybe satoru gojo is your friend. you will not admit this to anyone aloud, but you concede a little bit in your head, because it's a fragile place there, and you're a terrible liar. 

and so maybe you hang out with him sometimes. 

it's not just the game nights or study sessions anymore. you sit on the couch and play with your phone and he sits down next to you. he'll rub your feet, or massage your legs and you let him. 

only because he's kinda good at it, of course. 

and sometimes you'll turn on a movie and he'll appear out of nowhere, complaining about whatever you picked, but laying down nonetheless. and after several minutes he'll move closer to you, resting his head on your thigh. and you might play with his hair, but only because it's unreasonably soft. 

and some mornings when you wake up and make yourself breakfast, not even trying to be quiet, you'll make a little extra. but it's not for him, it's just a coincidence. 

and he stops by the library on his way home from suguru's, or some girl's house, and the two of you will walk home together, talking about class, or the weather, or whatever gojo wants. you let him do this, because it's usually dark outside, and you don't like walking home alone. 

and if he barges into your room sometimes--obviously not knocking--you only complain a little bit. and then you let him lay in your bed and mess with your things. 

but only because it's the easier option, of course. 

and you've missed the feeling of having someone near. and satoru gojo is easy to be around. 

*

"gojo," you gasp, as soon as the door opens in your face. and then you scowl. "don't you knock?" 

he pushes you so he can move past, raising a brow at you. "i live here." his hands are empty, and he's not wearing a coat again. just a weird button-up probably more expensive than your share of the rent. how he's survived over two decades, you're not sure. 

your brows furrow at him. "well, you could give some warning if you're going to kick open the door. what if you broke my nose?" 

"well, why were you standing right in front of the door when i kicked it?" gojo mimics, flicking you away, then looking down to your hands where your wallet and keys are piled up. "you going somewhere?" 

"to the store." 

"it's eleven." 

"why thank you for that update, gojo. i really appreciate it," and then you move beside him to open the door. 

but gojo grabs your hand, making sure to roll his eyes at you where you can see it, and pulls you away so he can step in front of the door. "what could you need from the store right now?" 

"i need stuff." 

he crosses his arms, uncharacteristically stern. "like what?" 

"stuff. girl stuff. you wouldn't get it." 

he gasps, mouth dropping. "oh no, did i steal too many of your tampons again?" 

"first of all, that's against the apartment rules, so you better hope not. second of all, please move," you glare at him. "i need to hurry." 

"you can't leave right now." 

"i believe there's such a thing as free will..." you try and push him away, but he doesn't budge. "and you're not the boss of me." 

"it's too late for you to walk to the store. go tomorrow." 

you cross your arms. "when have i ever listened to you?" you ask him, feeling that familiar irritation crawl up your skin. 

but then gojo is pulling your arms apart and resting them at your sides and saying "stop that," as a gentle chide. and that irritation molds. you push his hands away. 

you want to push his hands off of the edge of the earth just so that he'll never touch you again.

"seriously, gojo, i need to go. they close at midnight." 

"you can't walk to the store by yourself in the dark." 

"i can do whatever i want." 

"then i'm locking you in your room until tomorrow. you're grounded." 

you poke his shoulder. you can't decide if he's serious or not. his voice is always teasing, and you can't see enough of his eyes. and you can't trust a single thing he says. "when did you become so overbearing?" you ask him, trying not to grind your teeth. 

"when i realized how weak you are." 

"weak?" you balk at him. "i'm not weak. please retract that sentence before i accidentally punch you." 

"you can't even push me away from the door. i'll take my chances with your fists." 

"that's because you're irritating me," you tell him, as you try to do it again. "anger distracts me." 

he laughs at you, leaning even further against the door. 

"gojo," you whine, trying to pinch him away instead. "stop being an ass. just get out of the way." 

he holds a hand to his chest, offended. "i am showing concern about your safety," he claims, shaking his head at you. 

"you are ruining my mood." 

"oh, good." 

you scowl. "move. right now." 

"that was very intimidating," he grins at you, "but maybe try again." 

you groan and try to stab him with your key, which he pushes away, still smiling, still completely the worst. 

"i--" you sigh, "i don't like you very much." 

he snorts. 

then you pout at him, fluttering your eyelashes. "please, gojo. i'll be back in fifteen minutes." 

"what is that?" 

you frown. "what?" 

"what's wrong with your face?" 

you throw your arms up, shaking your head. then you mutter another thing about hating him under your breath and finally turn away. you set your keys and your wallet on the counter, pouting as you sit down on the couch. 

gojo is there a moment later, laughing at you. "was that supposed to be convincing?" 

"don't talk to me. ever again." 

you shake your head, fed up with him and everything about this living situation. how are you locked in your apartment right now?

gojo tilts his head back, and then pauses for a moment.  

"then how am i supposed to ask if you want to come with me to the store?" he asks, nonchalantly. "i need some stuff." 

and you should be angry at him--you should probably break one of his fingers or cut his hair off in his sleep. you should tell him that you hate his company and that if he ever tells you what to do again-- 

but instead, you jump up from the couch, smiling at him. "let's go," you say, quickly, before you change your mind. 

and you don't get to see it when gojo smiles back at you, softly. 

*

"hey," he whispers, "you shouldn't sleep here." 

gojo is shaking your shoulder gently, his breath on your face, his voice soft--even in the haze of disrupted sleep. there's a warm feeling in your belly as he speaks to you, an unknowing smile on your face.

"hmm?" you answer, trying to remember who you are and why you're here. who he is.

"it's almost midnight. what are you doing on the couch?" gojo is helping you sit up. his hands are ridiculously warm, and you don't think about how nice they feel on the bare skin of your back. 

"gojo?" 

he laughs. "the one and only. c'mon, i'll tuck you in." 

"did you just get home?" you must still be sleeping, because his hands are so soft right now. and his voice is so quiet--like the creaking of an old house. 

"yeah. are you going to get up?" he's kneeling in front of you, and his face is bare. you almost want to laugh at how bright his hair is even in the dark. 

"where were you?" 

he shakes his head, smiling up at you, and moves from the floor. "c'mon, sit up," he beckons, trying to get you to move your head from its place. you wince. eventually, he gives up and your heart almost disappears when he picks you up, tapping your legs so that you'll wrap them around his waist. 

you do it, but only because you don't want to fall. 

"why are you so tall?" you complain as he carries you to your room, feeling much more awake when you're this high in the air. 

gojo snorts. "i'll take that as a thank you," he whispers in your ear and sets you on your bed. then he sits on the edge and takes your socks off, pulling the covers out from under you. his movements are slow as he covers every inch of skin he can see, his breath the only sound between the two of you. 

it's colder when his hands move, and he looks at you for a moment as if trying to make sure he's satisfied with his job. 

"are you going to make fun of me for this in the morning?" 

gojo grins, squeezing your leg as he stands up. "probably. but only a little." 

"okay," you yawn, blinking as he backs up towards the door. 

"night, sweetheart," he whispers to you, and then a flash of hair is all you see before your door is closed and you drift back to sleep. 

and in the morning you wake up and can't remember how you got in bed. gojo doesn't say a thing. 

*

satoru gojo can say so much without saying a single thing. 

when he burst into your room--surprising you because you hadn't realized he was home--throwing himself on your bed and mumbling something about hating his life, you didn't say a word. 

and he'd sat there for ten minutes while you typed out a paper on your laptop, glancing over to him every couple of minutes, slightly worried because he hadn't moved an inch. 

you've seen a lot of his moods recently. you've seen him excited about some movie you didn't understand, exhausted after a long day of classes, angry when suguru and you leave him out of a joke. but most of that, you assume, is just him being himself. every feeling he has is probably seven times larger than the average person's.

but now that he's groaning into your bed, you can tell, just from the way his body deflates, that there's something wrong. you could see it when he walked in the room, and felt it because he'd told you he was getting dinner with his parents tonight. 

but if you know one thing about him, it's that he won't talk about it if you ask. 

because after a couple of weeks of spending more and more time with him, you'd quickly realized that you didn't actually know much about his life. he doesn't tell any stories about his childhood, or high school years--minus the ones that he tried to suffocate suguru for letting slip. he doesn't mention his parents much, and when he does, it's nothing but the bare minimum. he mentions classes so offhandedly that you hadn't even known how extensive his studies were until suguru was teasing him about an award he'd gotten a couple of years ago. 

he could talk to you for hours on end, but he wouldn't say anything. 

so after realizing this, you'd resorted to asking suguru about it.

that night, gojo was asleep on the floor between your feet. his hand was under his head, and he was snoring loud enough for you to notice. you'd sat down to watch a movie with him after he'd claimed that you and suguru were losers for being tired at this hour and that he was the youngest of you all. 

suguru only smiled a little bit at your question.

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else," he'd said softly, into the warm air of your apartment. "even with me, and i've known him since we were kids. his family..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

you'd frowned. "what?" 

"he's always been too much for them, in a way. i mean, you know, he is too much most of the time. but he does all of it purposefully; the arrogance, the bravado. i don't know... i think he just wants to control whatever image everyone has of him. to the extent that his personality is based on pushing people away, just so he can figure out who's actually going to stick around." 

you'd watched him then, with his fluttering eyelashes--his sunglasses lying on the ground next to him--and his bright hair. the gentle movement of his lips as he dreamt. he was softer like this, less forceful, less of a burden, and more of a boy.

and beautiful, of course, but that's an offhanded thought you wouldn't acknowledge.

"so, he doesn't talk to you about--" the words felt wrong, and you almost felt guilty for talking about him like this, with his best friend. but still. "--important stuff?" 

"he talks to me about a lot of things. but, no, not really. i get a long-winded rant sometimes, but not often." 

"then how are you supposed to know anything about him?"

suguru smiled at you, looking between you and gojo like there was a secret he didn't want to tell. he sighed. "satoru doesn't really tell me any of the important stuff because we've known each other for so long. i understand how his family is because i've watched him deal with them. i can guess how he's feeling based on his expression. but for people he hasn't known as long, like you, getting to know him is like i-spy." 

suguru didn’t need to elaborate. you got it.

like trying to find little hints of him hidden between all of the mess. you'd snorted and agreed. 

and it feels even more true now, with him cowering in your blankets. but still, you say nothing. 

you get it, to a certain degree. vulnerability was one of the feelings you liked to push away; secrets were only supposed to be coveted by you. getting close to people was a dangerous thing, risky in its own way. 

but, thinking that gojo doesn't trust you--couldn't trust you... it's more irritating than it should be. and maybe that's just because you're arrogant, and think yourself to be trustworthy. or maybe it's because you trust him, in your own unique way, even with all of his too much and extremeness. 

you don't say that to him though, just like he doesn't say anything to you. 

"hey," you push him with a foot. "are you drooling on my comforter?" 

there's a moment of silence, then gojo rolls over. "not a lot." 

you roll your eyes at him and type another sentence--a collection of words that have nothing to do with the actual essay you're writing, naturally--waiting for him to say something else. 

and, predictably, he does. "why aren't you paying attention to me?" 

"i'm busy, gojo." 

"no, you're not." 

"i am doing homework." 

he looks up at you. his sunglasses are somewhere on your floor. "well, then you're definitely not busy," he grins. 

you swat away a hand that tries to steal your computer. 

"aren't you supposed to be at dinner?" you ask him, trying to seem like you don't care about the answer. 

he sighs again. "canceled." 

"why?" 

"my dad had a meeting or something." 

"oh." 

you let the silence wade for a minute or two, trying to be discreet when you watch his face for any signs of discontent. but gojo just has his eyes closed. his hands above his head. 

eventually, you nudge him again. "did you eat anything?" 

he shakes his head. 

"do you want me to make you something?" 

an eye opens. he turns over and rests his head on his hands, squinting at you. "are you being nice to me?" 

"not intentionally." 

he snorts, poking you, almost in awe. "you are." 

"i'm just trying to make sure you don't die, okay? who knows what you've eaten today." 

he crawls up your bed, sitting right next to you so he can rest his head on your shoulder. and you should push him off, but you don't. "it's okay. i'm not very hungry." 

"that's not what i asked." 

gojo laughs against you, his hair brushing against your neck. 

you shouldn't say anything more. you shouldn't even entertain him and his antics, and you shouldn't even care (but you do. for some, stupid, infuriating reason). 

so you look at him, and your voice is soft when you ask, "you okay?" to him, hoping that it doesn't seem too intrusive. wishing that you didn't actually care if he was or not.

gojo's eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, you get that feeling again. 

that feeling in your stomach that makes you want to jump away from him. that makes your hands want to shake, and your voice fade. that feeling that you know--too well, too much--but can't get rid of. 

like an itch you're not really supposed to scratch. 

gojo swallows. "yeah," he answers, with no grin, no conceit. "i'm okay." 

and it shouldn't feel like a relief to hear, but it does. you nod, look away, and go back to your computer. back to your actual life, which shouldn't have any satoru gojo in it. 

but a minute later he adds: "i'd be better if you made me dinner, though." 

and you pull on his hair a little. you try to pretend like his smile doesn't fill you with butterflies. 

*

this shouldn't be happening. 

it's the only reasonable thought running through your brain at the moment. the only echo you can discern, the only words you can make out in the jumble of anxiety and horror running through your mind. 

he should not be this close. 

gojo had only picked you up from work once again, his easy smile meeting yours as soon as he walked through the door--you'd been waiting, wondering when he was going to show up. 

at seven-thirty he was there, letting in the cold air and sitting in the seat next to yours, complaining about the fact that you had a job that diverted your attention away from him while you rolled your eyes. 

he sat there for the half an hour remaining in your shift, distracting you. 

two months ago you would've kicked him out. would've called some make-believe security. 

but you just listened while he talked to you about space theories that didn't make any sense. 

and then he'd grabbed your bag for you, turning off the lights before you could, pushing in chairs while you organized the reception desk. 

and his hand grabbed yours before you thought to notice--swinging along while the two of you began the walk home. 

and halfway there, gojo stopped, looking up at something. "hey," he'd poked you. "look at the stars." 

you'd done it, begrudgingly, squinting. "i can count, like, three." 

"there's at least five." 

"why did you stop me to do this? it's cold." 

"because they look nice," he argues, looking down at you. "you have no eye for beauty." 

and, really, you might've agreed with him. you might've pushed him away from you and told him to hurry up and you might've not cared at all. 

but you could see his eyes, just a little bit, behind his sunglasses. and his smile was alabaster, and that feeling--that gasping for breath, trying to hold on to anything feeling--was there again. 

and it was poking you. like a push in some direction. like a laugh telling you that you were too afraid to do anything. 

you were looking at him. right at his face and the only thing you wanted to say was that he was wrong. 

he was wrong because at least you knew that he looked beautiful. 

but those words wouldn't leave your lips--that thought couldn't leave your head--so you were only staring at him. wishing that you'd never let him into your apartment and that he hadn't started becoming a person to you. 

it wasn't fair like this. 

"what?" he whispered, his smile dropping, like he could tell there was something wrong with you. like he knew you that well. 

if he'd kept on smiling, you wouldn't have done it. you wouldn't have pushed up on your toes and leaned into him, and you wouldn't have kissed him like you did. 

like you're doing. 

and it would've been fine because you never would've started this knowing that it would eventually have to stop. 

and even though it takes him less than a second to kiss you back--his lips molding to yours like an automatic reaction--you know that you shouldn't be doing this. 

that you can't be doing this. not with him. not like this. 

so when gojo's hands move to your waist, his breath even in your mouth, you push at his chest. and you want to run away. 

"i'm--" you swallow, trying not to taste him, the bubblegum flavor of him, and almost flinch away. "i'm sorry." 

gojo's mouth is frozen from where he stands two feet away. his hands are in the air like he doesn't know what to do with them. "you..." 

and you've never heard him speechless before. just the idea of it makes you blurt out whatever comes to mind. "i shouldn't have done that," you tell him, and, "i didn't mean to--i don't--" you shake your head. "sorry. i'm sorry. can we forget about this? can we get home because i'm really cold?" 

"you kissed me," gojo says, so simply. 

the words are another blow to your heart. you were hoping that he wouldn't have noticed. 

and wince and watch him, his face as it shifts, moving with each thought in his head. 

"gojo, i'm really--" 

"no," he interrupts, taking a step towards you. 

"what?" 

"that's not my name." 

you frown. "yes it is?" 

he shakes his head. "no, it's satoru. you've said it before, you know. you should keep saying it." 

"when have i said it?" you ask, momentarily blinded by how he demands this. who is he to demand anything? 

"when you were drunk." 

you scoff. "i'm not just going to call you by your first name cause you want me to," you tell him, "who do you think i am?" 

and then satoru laughs, shaking his head at you, his grin full-force on his face. "are you serious? you kissed me and now you don't want to call me by my first name?" 

you freeze. "i said i was sorry about that," you say, weakly. 

you feel like who you've always felt around him. not as easy, not as cool, never as smooth. you feel like a child caught doing something they're not supposed to. you want to run away from him, but he knows where you live. 

"you're sorry?" 

"i didn't mean to." 

he quirks a brow. "you didn't mean to?" 

"it was an accident?" 

he takes another step closer. "it was an accident?" 

"are you just going to keep repeating everything i say?" you ask, voice hard. this must be a dream. 

satoru shakes his head at you. "no, but i have a question." 

"...okay." 

"if i try to kiss you right now, are you going to try and murder me? i know that we're away from the apartment right now, but it would really ruin the mood." 

you stare at him. 

it must be answer enough because he steps forward and he kisses you again. but this time, it feels less mechanical. his lips are soft and smooth as they push against yours--and he pushes like he's demanding something from you. like he knows more about what you can give than you do. 

and he grins against you like he's doing everything exactly right. 

but when satoru pulls back, your eyes stay shut. you try and banish the feeling in your stomach from your body, but it doesn't respond to idle threats. 

"we shouldn't do this," you whisper to him. you don't open your eyes. you don't want to see his face and fall victim to another one of his schemes. 

"why not?" 

"the last time i kissed one of my roommates..." you imply, hoping that you don't have to tell him that you're scared. 

"oh, right," he brushes some hair from your face. he has not moved an inch away from you. "i forgot that you're experienced." 

"wasn't it obvious?" 

he laughs, and then nudges your cheek with a finger. "look at me." 

you shake your head. 

"c'mon, just a little." 

his voice is so soft. satoru is whispering like it's just for you. and you've never heard him like this and you don't think you want to see him. 

"please, sweetheart?" he asks, one last time, and you have to. if only to put yourself out of your own misery. "good. now listen--" 

"don't tell me what to do." 

he rolls his eyes. "listen," he repeats. "i know you don't like me very much. and i know that you only keep me around for my rent money and my pretty face--" 

you kinda want to hit him. 

"--but i've wanted to kiss you for weeks. and i'm not good at the..." he swallows, blinking just briefly. "all of the telling stuff, but i want to be. with you. for you." 

you're not sure if that's the end, or if it's the beginning. your eyes are stuck on his smile, and you're not listening to anything he said. 

he's very close right now. so accessible. and it's just another reason to want to push him away. 

satoru clears his throat, nudging your head with his nose. "and i'm tired of shoko and suguru calling me a coward, so it'd be great if you'd mention that you kissed me first." 

your brows furrow. "you told shoko and suguru?" 

"i didn't say anything," he almost swears. "they tricked me into admitting it." 

"when?" 

"...the day after i introduced you to them." 

you pull away to observe his face. "really?" 

he groans. "stop looking at me like that," he says, "it's mean." 

you almost smile at him again. then close your eyes. "okay."

"havent you listened to anything i've said to you?" he asks, rhetorically. "i flirt with you every day." 

"you flirt with everything." 

"mmm, true," he leans his chin against your head, breathing you in. "now that i've poured my heart out for you, can we go home? it's cold out here, and i'd rather make out on our couch than that bench over there." 

"who said anything about making out?" 

"please," he wraps an arm around your shoulder, and smiles down at you--with all of the typical swagger--and maybe this time you let him. 

*

Where You Belong Masterlist

Prince Shoto Todoroki x Court Lady Reader

Warnings: Forbidden love, family tensions, mentions of abuse, angst, eventual smut, FLUFF LOTS AND LOTS OF FLUFF

A/N: hey everyone! I'm so happy for the positive reaction my poll got that helped me decide to post this lovely fic over here! The Ao3 link is still functioning if you prefer to read on that platform I will be updating my post soon. I hope everyone enjoys, I put a lot of soul into this piece!

Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are very much appreciated and treasured like gold ✨️

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

lost on you | five hargreeves.

❛ hold me like you never lost your patience, tell me that you love me more than hate me. ❜

summary — five only notices you when you're no longer around.

pairings — five hargreeves x umbrella!fem!reader

warning/s — angst, profanity, character death, mentioned blood, not proofread

word count — 6.0k

a/n ! you're called as 'eight' in this fic since this is set before five went into the future. forgive me if i somehow mentioned the ua's given names

Every harsh word and curses you earned from your interaction with Five was always worth it. The feeling that even though he loathed your presence, it still gave you the relief of his acknowledgement of your existence. Admittingly, it did make you feel a little bit blue that not even once did he act nice towards you or at times where you insisted to help him and he didn’t thank you, not as much bothered to give you a small nod of appreciation or just look at your way. You once thought that maybe it was just how he is, a cold-hearted boy devoid of love making him invulnerable to everyone showing him any amount of affection and maybe add daddy issues to that list but to be fair you and the rest of your siblings have one too but none of them were like Five. It did confuse you that why only was he an asshole to you, but you were known to be the most patient among the rest of your siblings so you gave Five a chance to rethink whatever agenda he has on you and prayed to whoever was up there that the time you and him finally be friends would come around the corner. 

Deep down, you wanted it to be more.

One day, Five felt comfortably fit in the huge walls of the Academy for the first time, but then suddenly there’s you who randomly found solace in sticking too close in his space. He made the effort to always put his piqued expression everytime you’re around, to his dismay it didn’t once have you scurrying away from him nor took the hint that he didn’t want you around like he mysteriously grew a tail one day. Five found it sickening that what greets him every time he ascends downstairs after getting ready for the day is the sound of your voice greeting him a ‘Good morning’ to which he once replied ‘Now it's ruined.’ but surprisingly you laughed at his response thinking it was a silly joke. If Five were to rank all his siblings from the smartest to the dumbest, you’d be the last on the line. After that, he started ignoring all your small greetings. Claiming to himself  it would just slowly ruin his life.

The day Five prayed that one day you would magically damage your vocal cords was the day Number Three and Number Four had finally caught up with your attachment to him, where the rest of you woke up earlier than him on a Saturday morning, all gathered in the living room about to enjoy the game of Monopoly. Which you protested to have Five join, not wanting him to be left out. Unknowingly, Three and Four shared a look as you rushed upstairs to wake him.

Five groaned sleepily, having been awoken from his deep slumber by a cheering you shaking him awake. He assumed it was still early in the morning considering his body would instinctively wake him up at twelve in the afternoon whenever Reginald’s on a business trip, to which he already knew since he announced it the day before. Of course the naive old man would think that all of you would obey his orders to practice your skills while he’s away, to which none of you would ignore and coming up with a lie was one of the things the Umbrella Academy’s good at.

"Five! wake up! We’re going to play a board game with the rest in the living room. Dad’s not around.”

You tugged at his pajama sleeves to which he yanked back, shoving his head underneath his pillow. To avoid an accidental peek at your figure. Already hating the aura radiating off of you by being in his room.

“Go away, Eight.” he fumed, his voice muffled. Five wants nothing more than to blip you out to the ends of the world from interrupting his dreams. Sure it may be just the ‘tired him’ speaking, but he swore that one of these days, he’d finally had enough of you and would do it without any hesitations.

“But the last time we didn’t include you, you didn’t talk to us for days.” You frowned.

“Well it’s different and I don’t want to be near you, now go!” 

For a second there was a pause, deciding what to do to convince him. As you opened your mouth to speak, you’re prevented to let the words out as Five spoke once again,

“Shut the door on your way out and don’t come back.”

“Okay then, I’ll just send Six for you for the next round.” You begrudgingly said, ignoring the way his tone sounded harsh, maybe he’ll come around later. 

Not waiting for his response or more likely not wanting to aggravate him any longer, you turned to leave his room, making sure to shut his door gently as he requested.

“What took you long?” Seven piped up, seeing your figure sauntering towards them, they were sat on the carpeted floor, circling around on the board game, prepared for you and Five’s arrival but it was just you.

“oOoH! Is it because you two were sucking each other’s faces?” Four interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows at you, Three giggling beside him. You hadn’t missed the shocked faces on the rest, especially Seven who was suspicious of you and Five but paid it no mind since he seemed to skirmish around you, though she was once convinced it was just a cover up to hide yours and Five’s feelings towards each other. Well, it did work on One and Three once when they were at the age of ten. That was two years ago.

“What?” You yelled, eyes wide.

“We know you like Five, Eight.” Three gushed. The rest of your siblings are still lost for words.

“No I don’t.” You defended, taking place on an empty space between Six and Seven.

“Look, it’s completely okay to date him, it’s not like we’re all related, right Number One?” Four said, looking over at Three who now froze at the mention of the name.

“Four..” One warned, though his cheeks reddened visibly, not oblivious to what he was implying about. It was no secret that he and Three had this sort of relationship that was neither confirmed nor denied. The looks they’d send each other at the table every breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was also a surprise that Reginald had not once found them sneaking off to each other’s room nor the obviously more than platonic way of them holding each other’s hands after every mission as they posed for the camera. Not the rest of you though, if asked who all of you would rather choose to stay loyal to between siblings and Reginald, you would choose your siblings without a doubt.

“What? It’s not like I just revealed a big secret, At least one of us had caught you and Three trying to kiss each other.” 

“Will you lower your voice?” Three said, her head tilted down in embarrassment.

“Are you and Five really together?” Six broke out of his silence for the first time, still processing what the conversation had turned into. Even Two stopped his fidgeting on a rubik’s cube to listen to what you had to say. All of them now diverted their attention from One and Three to you. Three silently sighed in relief, having been saved from the awkward tension.

“No, What made you even say that, Four?”

“Please, the look on your eyes whenever you look at him never misses.”

“What look?” 

“Like you just drowned into a pit of marijuana juice.”

“What?” All of you simultaneously said in puzzlement.

“Your pupils grow larger, I mean.” 

“So?” You replied, still missing his point.

“You don’t look at Two or One or Six like you want to kiss them.” Two and Six blushed from the thought.

“Who says I want to kiss him?”

While engaged into a deep childish conversation, the rest of you grew mindless to the increasing volume of your voices that had now echoed around the empty mansion which had also prevented Five from falling back asleep. Even though it was muffled as much he couldn’t make out whatever all of you were talking about. Deciding he had enough of it, he barged out of his room with an angered look displayed on his face, rushing downstairs. Then he heard your annoying voice which added fuel to an already raging him, but grew curious to what you just said.

“Kiss who?” 

Just as Number Four was about to argue with you again, he’s interrupted from the groggy voice of Five standing on the entrance of the living room. All of you turned your head on his figure. Heat immediately raised to your cheeks, the thought of Five eavesdropping on a conversation about him was enough to make him hate you more, if he as much mistakens your friendliness towards him as something more, he would do whatever it takes to finally eliminate the obstacle that blocked him from the pathway towards an Eight-free life.

“Uh-Nothing! It’s Nothing!” You rambled. Nervously defensive.

“Stop playing around Five, we know you and Eight are love birds.” Four laughed. Everyone sat completely still from his words. A gasped escaped from Number Three as the rest just stared dumbfounded at Four. Then the atmosphere thickened in tension as you felt a familiar sting rising in your eyes.

“FOUR!” You stood from your sitting position.

“WHAT?” Five queried, more angrier than he was previously. 

“Five- I- I- I don’t know what he’s talking about.” You tried to play it off by lightly laughing.

“You told everyone we’re together? What the hell is wrong with you?” He said with disgust.

“No I didn’t!” You sauntered towards him but Five slowly backed away from your reach. Four could feel the guilt swallowing him as he watched the exchange he had caused, Three elbowed his side, earning her attention, she gave him a look of disappointment. Seven and Six now looked at you with empathy as they too gave disapproving looks on Four. 

“I’m gonna get us snacks.” Number Two walked out of the room, not wanting to watch the scene.

“You want to kiss me? Ugh- I would never kiss you, Eight. Just stop being so weird around me.” He bellowed without any hesitations.

Without another word, Five turned his back on you, returning back to the comfort of his room, leaving you there to sulk in your feelings as you watch his retreating figure grow blurry. All you heard at the moment was the sound of your heart breaking into two sharp pieces, piercing you just right the first drop of tears escaped your eye. Not that you were sad to find out what you bare for him is unrequited but the thought of him even hating you more than he already does. Not that you really do have feelings about him. Or do you?.

The situation made you feel even worse as it finally came to you that Four just outed you like that to him. You felt betrayed and small in the middle of the room. All eyes on you.

“Eight- I'm sorry-” Four, who now slowly made his way to you tried to rest his hand on your shoulder which he failed to as you swiftly left the room with a gush of the wind and in a blink of an eye the second he muttered his apology.

The room was then once again met with silence. The Hargreeves siblings gave each other looks from the events that had just ruined the start of their day. Not hiding their disappointment in their brother.

“Way to ruin the bonding Four.” One was the first one to break the silence, soon following suit as he too left the room, then Three and Seven tailed behind him, not sparing a glance at Four.

“I’ll just raid the kitchen with Two.” Six said, not wanting to be the last one remaining, leaving Four alone in the living room. The board game abandoned, untouched.

Five hated being wrong at times, he liked to thought of himself as smarter and more mature than most of his siblings even his ego convinced him that he would make more of a good leader than Number One but he wasn’t as selfish as to steal that title from him, everytime One would ultimately fail one of his plans, It would feed Five’s ego, which he would then jump up to save the day with a new plan. Of course the rest of you would thank him and his brilliant back up plan. Except One though, even after Five saved him from Reginald’s scolding, just like his super strength, One had the thickest skin to get through out of the rest of you. Not that he hated Five, but it did bruise his pride that someone would steal his spotlight. When Number Four once joked about how Five should be Number One, it had stuck with him and would sometimes bother him at his worst times that Five in fact, was better than him at all things.

Well it didn’t help that one of his favorite siblings, you, thought that too. 

Five have always taken notice of you desperately clinging on to that hope that he’d finally give you the attention that you’ve always wanted. The nice gestures you’d throw his way whenever you passed by him in the hallway, giving him a gift every Christmas even though he never returned your favor, there were no hard feelings you harbored towards him and it felt nice to Five that someone was able to put up with his behavior. He remembered the time he once said mean things to Number Three and since then she acted hard towards him or the time Six accidentally spilled his milk on his newly tailored suit and he scolded him, now the poor boy can’t look at him straight in the eye for more than a second. He’d say the only siblings he can bear the presence of is Two, Four and Seven. There was just something about you that raises his blood to the point he’d leave the room whenever you step foot in it, his chest tightened with his eyes darkened as he watches your figure walking straight towards him mainly to rain havoc to his sunshine-y days. 

He would roll his eyes at you as your eyes light up as soon as you see him. With a sigh and a voice in his head saying ‘here we go again’ for the hundredth time.

As the rest of his siblings would say, you were the center of the solar system, where your ultimate demise would darken every corner of the house, every room you would step foot in would be graced by your luminous joy. It was not surprising that no one has ever seen you cry nor had they heard your sobs in closed doors. They just simply assumed that your kindness and your loving nature had made you immune to dejection.

Not until the first time Five had seen you on the verge of shedding your first tear in front of him.

Five realized that he seemed too harsh on you the second he slammed the door to his bedroom shut. Sure it seemed wrong that you liked him in more ways and it somehow made sense that you are too nice to him despite his worst behaviors towards you. Maybe he overreacted back down in the living room, he debated with himself that once he cools down, he’ll apologize to you even if it seemed out of character for him. He hadn’t remembered himself being nice towards you and then a sudden feeling of guilt started to grow inside him that day.

With a heavy flop on the bed, Five, for the first time regretted his ruthless attitude towards you, and even though he finally fell back asleep, it was with a weighty feeling in his chest that had made it not worth it. He was sure the next meal was going to be filled with tension.

Then the day Five prayed that one day you would magically damage your vocal cords was also the day he realized he’d rather listen to your voice than to stay in the void of loneliness for eternity.

Reginald Hargreeves arrived back home just in time for dinner. But not before discussing with One what activity all of you were engaged in while he was away to which One smoothly told him a lie all of you had already planned on tricking him.

His lack of care for his children had him mindless to the sudden change of his surroundings, but he was appreciative of the silence in the room, usually he had to scold whoever one of you for even sighing in front of the food. 

Five was the last one to sit at the table, his tardiness had Reginald shook his head at him. He hurriedly made his way on an empty seat, but to his surprise, the seat on his right which you have claimed to be yours was occupied by Seven and then across him was you in Seven's usual seat besides Six, your head down as you focused on slicing your steak. He must've starred a bit too long since Seven went in to lean closer to him,

"She wanted to switch places." She whispered, giving him a pitying smile, and she soon resumed her meal. 

Five secretly wanted you to greet him the moment he entered the room, risking a scolding from Dad for interrupting the radio playing in the background. He thought that by now you would forget what had happened earlier just like you always did whenever he'd curse at you. But this time was different, he knew he went too far when he humiliated you in front of your siblings. He couldn't blame you for ignoring his presence, he knew he deserved it and even if you wouldn't treat him the same as before, Five would just accept it as it is.

"Children, before you return to your respective room, I ask of you to have your suits ready and rest early for tomorrow we have a mission to comply. I pray that your training earlier while I was away would be of help in our success. May all of you do well. Now you can all go." 

Chair dragging on the floor resonated the room, you being the first one to leave your seat in a hurry of wanting to be in the comfort of your room, the whole meal you could feel eyes on you making it harder to stay at the table any longer.

Especially Five’s staring at you and it didn't help that he was just right across you, if it weren't for Seven's not so discreet voice leaning in to notify him about how you switched seats with her you wouldn't have known. You knew it bothered Five that you acted cold towards him for the very first time and it filled you with a great sense of joy how much he didn't know how you hold so much power in augmenting his pride. After what he pulled earlier, you've come to a conclusion that maybe ignoring him would soften his shell that prevents him from being human towards you or maybe not but either way you've got nothing to lose, you still have the rest of your siblings who cherishes you. 

Four has been trying to get your attention as much as knocking on your door while saying his apologies on the other side, you did listen but some alone time was all you needed at the moment. You couldn't stay mad any longer to him so you briefly replied with 'we'll talk tomorrow' in which Four completely understood. 

Five badly wanted to stop you from avoiding him, your fast pace and your head bowed as you counted each step you took, he wanted to reach out to your inviting wrists and beg for forgiveness even in front of his siblings, Reginald and Pogo.

But he never did as he watches you slowly leave his line of vision. All that he's greeted with was the sound of your door slammed shut.

A suffocating feeling had your mind enter into a blissful trance, a flashback of what life had to offer you even in the not so pleasant times. As you recall each and every detail of memory from how the clouds were formed that day to the shape of the moon that night. Every choice you've ignored and chosen, your emotions that you let loose and take over, trinkets you found and kept on the small box you've hidden on the bottom of your drawer, all the smallest things had brought you here right at this moment. Maybe for a second you wished to have gone back in time and change all that but your untimely death would have contributed to a good change someday in the future of your siblings. That they'll finally learn how to find that glimpse of happiness all on their own, independently. 

You'd miss their voices in bright daylight that greets you every morning, it did annoy you at times but it's a reminder that you are blessed with a scarred yet lovable family that gave you a will to go on with life. There were times that made it hard to live in the household, a very well known fact amongst you that all you were but weapons created by Reginal Hargreeves himself but there was no hatred you bare towards him, after all he did give you shelter, food and clothes. You wondered what would've happened if your real mother chose you instead of whatever huge amount of money your father offered her. That she decides she wants you and would try to be a mother even if your existence was unplanned.  Would life be simpler? Would it feel like something's missing? Would you feel less happy? Would you feel content in life? Will it change who you are? Will your biologically related family love you just the same as your current one or perhaps even more? Would it take more than years to find your true potential? Would you still have met Five? You're curious if even if it did happen, maybe you wouldn't have to lie down in your own puddle of blood, choking in a thick red liquid as every gasps of air sends a sharp pain on your open wound, you hadn't noticed your lack of blinking as you focused on the white pristine ceiling, the diminished sounds of gunfire as it's replaced by the sobbing and sniffles of your siblings. Your hand clutched on your soaked blazer right where a knife had plunged itself onto your skin, everything felt like it's happening outside your mind, then you were spectating far away, unable to do anything but cry at your helpless body, watching life slowly drain out of you.

You hadn't noticed how Number Three had rested your head on her lap, Four and Six on either side of her as they shook with what could be the most traumatizing events they could ever witness, how they wouldn't be able to think about you again without remembering your bloody form. One and Two had now approached the group, eliminating the last of the enemies in the building, but they weren't prepared for what they were about to see.

"Hey, we got the last of the-" One halted, his eyes finding your lying figure. Two's knife clanking with the marble tiles as he too is overcomed with what the mission had cost them. 

"I-I don't- I don't know what to do.." Three sobbed. The Umbrella Academy fell into a brief silence as if time itself stopped to grieve with them. Painfully so, what filled the gap was the sound of your gurgling. Six encased your palms in his comforting warmth, he wasn't so sure if it were to make yourself better or him. 

"Eight.." The blonde boy kneeled in front of you.

"We could still save her," He said, taking your body as he rests your head against his shoulder. More blood flowing out of your mouth from the sudden change of position, staining his uniform.

It was a sad sight to see, a group of children barely teenagers having to watch such a disturbing scene. A mark that would truly stain their life forever, the very day they will always remember. 

"Where's Five? He could just- just bring her back home immediately." Everyone could see their leader's bloodshot eyes, tears threatening to spill but he had forced himself not to. 

"C-c-c-could he do that?" Two quivered, placing himself besides Number One.

Just as if on queue, Five blipped himself in the same room, his face scrunched immediately in confusion as he's faced with One's back on him and the others surrounding him with tears on their faces. He began to make his way towards them, eager to find what the commotion was about.

"What's going on?" With a few more steps, Five stood frozen in shock when he saw you bleeding out in One's arms. The others now look at him with sympathy. 

"Eight!" The boy kneeled in front of you with a worried look.

Five’s familiar voice had you pull your last remaining strength to move your eyes right at him. The small movement had the others sighed in relief that there could still be hope to save you. Even in your current state, your heart still hasn't failed to skip a beat whenever you're given a small acknowledgement from Five. It was probably the third time he had called you by your name. You are met with the very set of green eyes that have always brought you comfort, except that it was without disdain present in it but tears forming on the corner of his eyes, blurring his vision. 

"Five you have to save her!" said Three desperately. 

"How?" Five blinked, tears now falling on his cheeks. 

"Just do your spatial jumps and bring her with you back home!" She pleaded, "Please, Five."

"I don't know if I could do that." He replied in defeat, it felt as if he was being punished at the moment.

"Just try!" One interrupted with gritted teeth.

Gripping the sleeves of your brother's arms around you, you managed to catch everyone's attention. All that was left of you was the patiently heavy feeling radiating off of you, awaiting the cold hands of death as it lulls you in it's embrace, eyes taunting you that there's really nothing your siblings could do but watch as you take your last breath, as life flows out of you for the first and the last time. They knew it too, a wishful thinking they've chosen to indulge themselves in hopes of making the situation less hurtful. Just like you, the rest of them wanted to jump back in time and change every choice they made that day to prevent your death. It was inevitable. A sad truth is that the ecstasy of life has to come to an end. Though it will still come back but in a new form.

You're not sure if they could see you shaking your head side to side or if they knew what you meant right at the moment, but there really was no other way to communicate without using your strength nor the blood stranded in your throat —wanting to be let out.

"No? What do you mean?" Five rests his palms on your red stained cheek, full on sobbing. All he got as a response was a saddened raise of your brows, mirroring his emotions. 

"Please can I hold her." He turned to One. 

His brother gave him a curt nod, moving so that Five could scoot in and replace his hold on you. He carefully held your head and placed it on his lap, your eyes never leaving his.

"Hey Eight, you're gonna be okay."

"You're gonna be okay…"

Five swore for a second he could see your mouth slightly move, it was as if you were trying to utter but a word through your strangled breathing, even more so his name coming out of you. Though the only thing he got was the first release of sadness cascading down your face. Too focused memorizing every detail in your eyes —the longest he had looked at you and possibly the last time, he hadn't noticed your raised hands reaching towards his own cheek. He flinched from the sudden contact and then he held it in his own, laying your palms flat on his cheeks. Five ignored how cold your hands felt at the moment and your pale lips. The sharpest and thousands of needles punctured his heart, his breathing matched yours, suffocating him with every slow blink you made, it scared him that when you do, you'll never open your eyes again.

No words were spoken between you, yet both of you understandably knew the other was hurting, what the other was thinking right at the moment. You knew Five was filled with regret and no matter how you wanted to tell him that you forgave him for everything, you settled for the touch. Maybe he'll know all you wanted right at the instance was to stare in his eyes and memorize every speck of color littered in his Iris. Green and hints of blue suited him. It reminded you of the earth itself, how everytime you stare at it, it reminds you of home. 

The rush of winds dancing and twirling enthralled your senses, the soft brush of it as it twists and turns your hair, ocean waves crashing and making brushing noises as it kisses the sand all over and over again. Sea salt enamores you and drives you to close your eyes in its comforting presence, the sunlight you've always grown to love embraces you in its warmth, the temperature was perfectly balanced, neither cold nor hot. For the first time in your life, you're walking barefoot on the soft grains of sand and then you find out it's the best euphoric feeling to sit on, feeling and mushing it on your hands. All you could focus on was the sound of nature, reminding you of Five’s voice. A voice that makes waking everyday worth, a voice that puts you in trance, and even in the afterlife, it will still feel just the same, only it will be just in your memory, that is if you still remember anything. 

With a final sigh, your body lay limp against Five, only your eyes weren't shut close and to think he was afraid of it closing, Five changed his mind and grew confused by your sudden halt of blinking, then your hands felt heavy in his. 

"Eight?" White noises entered his ear, shaking you awake, everybody knew it was useless. The group of children now emit heart-shattering cries.

"She's gone Five.." Six announced through his choking sobs. 

It took him minutes to drive his eyes away from you, and when he did, the sound of sirens resonated as if in a queue. The Gods were playing a game on him.

The Umbrella Academy knew that they will never be the same again, even though a year has passed, not a day goes by that they don't get eaten away by guilt. Everyday was a waking curse, the door to your room remains closed as all of them makes their way out of theirs in sync and it was with a gut wrenching sensation as they make their way down the stairs without the familiar sound of the heels of your shoes, the way you trip on the second to the last of the stairs while you greet each of them a 'Good morning', though it only was a good morning indeed with your cheerful voice that makes them question if you aren't capable of having even just one bad day. They had convinced themselves that you somehow were an angel in disguise, bringing light on their gloomy lives. 

From the first week without you, a large portrait of you was placed just above the fireplace. The rest had thought it symbolizes that even without your presence, your warmth would still make the room less cold when necessary. It was a known fact that you were mindful of your surroundings, where you could be a little clean freak at times and would fix your siblings' messes, what they missed the most was how you treated every single matter as somewhat alive. Not one have you thrown away old toys nor have you broken one, only you gave it away to children who needed it more. The people had noticed your very same figure in and out in the same orphanage not more than ten blocks away from the Academy, it warmed many but it wasn't the reason for your generosity. You've always believed that others should experience every happiness that you've gone through. 

If there was one thing your siblings couldn't not notice was the vase sitting just on the side of the staircase, where you'd pick the dead ones, bury them in the backyard and replace them with freshly picked ones, claiming the bright colors insinuates the darkish tone of the house.

Now that you're gone, no one dared try to touch the welting flowers. Afraid to taint what you have last touched.

Seven had returned to her original seat beside Six, leaving an empty reminder beside Five, dreadfully mocking him every time they had their meal, his appetite would always go away. In turn he would play with his food and even if Seven had told him that he needed it for energy and how you wouldn't have liked how he's starving himself, Five would snap at her with a 'she's not here now, is she? she's dead.' 

Five’s deep hatred for Reginald started the day of your funeral, there was a blank look on his permanent stoic face, as if to say he'd rather sulk in his office than attend his own daughter's funeral. He had hopes that maybe there was still something humane inside Reginald the moment it was his turn to give one final speech for you. Only that what came out of his was insults and scolding about how the Umbrella Academy had failed for the first time in their life. Pogo had both mourned and radiated sympathy from the rest of him and his siblings slouched form, their father being insensitive. 

There came a time when Five didn't have to brood for the empty seat besides him. The first morning where it really felt like you're just a figment of imagination in his head, that all you were now was a piece of memory made to be forgotten and what's left of you was the empty locked bedroom and your painting. Five grew disoriented with the new table set, then there was Number Seven who now had her seat facing their father, both the sides of the table perfectly balanced with three chairs on either. No more empty seats. He didn't know why but it felt less reassuring. 

Five hated the change around the house, taking away what used to be yours. Treating you like you weren't a member of the family. Like you never even existed at all.

It all came to him in a flash, the second his father sent him back to his room to rest after giving him a lesson about time traveling. Five contemplated on what this could mean, what this potential could do and how he could turn back right in time to prevent your death. It was risky but all he thought about was the smiles and tears of joy from the rest of his family as he miraculously revived you. The free time he had would consist of him working on a solution, it took over his notebooks, whiteboard and even one side of his wall as much he tried asking for spare parchment from Grace, Pogo and his siblings. 

When he was confident enough, the thirteen year old boy had not hesitated to break the one rule of conversation during meal times, interrupting Herr Carlson in the background. 

What he didn't know was it could change his life forever.

"I have a question." 

[ 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ]

tainted angel 🪽 MASTERLIST

ෆ pairing: Dabi x Hawks’ little sister

ෆ Synopsis: While stalking Hawks and trying to find out more information about him, Dabi comes across his little sister, a sweet angelic thing that welcomes him inside her house with a bright smile on her face. Dabi can’t help but get obsessed over her, the sudden urge to make her his takes over him entirely, maybe to have Hawks under his control while he enjoys his little sister, or maybe he really does like her. Nevertheless, she does not know the danger she just involved herself in, nor does she know that her brother’s handsome “friend” is in fact a dangerous villain who has sick twisted intentions.

ෆ cw‼️: smut, yandere themes, corruption kink, dubcon/noncon, mixed feelings, Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, stalking,

ෆ A/N please read before going further: This multichapter fic is written in Dabi’s POV mostly, it’s written in first person. You will come across Dabi’s thoughts and feelings, how he perceives things. He calls Keigo’s sister “angel” instead of the famous Y/N label, so I’ll be calling her angel too. Sometimes I include angel’s POV too (which you can totally insert yourself and imagine being her. As I write this fic I also imagine myself being the sister as well). Due to her being Keigo’s sister she might have specific descriptions such as hair color, eye color, skin, wings etc.

CHAPTER 1

During a boring rainy day of wandering around, Dabi gets a call from the men he hired to get more information on Hawks. They had found his old house, where supposedly his mother lived. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit, not knowing the surprise that was waiting for him: the little angel Hawks used to keep hidden from the public.

CHAPTER 2

Hawks threatens Dabi to not get close to his family, specifically his sister. But Dabi definitely has other plans the moment he got her number, deciding to call her late at night.

CHAPTER 3

Angel continues to secretly interact with Dabi despite Hawks warning her not to. She is entirely captivated by his charm and mysteriousness. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit and leave a small gift.

CHAPTER 4

She finally agrees to meet Dabi behind an alleyway, late at night. They both head to an empty park, where Dabi decides to make a move and savour her. From that moment things get heated up.

CHAPTER 5

Hawks is worried that his sister was out so late at night. He starts doubting her words, wondering if she is even telling the truth. He is not pleased with what he sees once she comes back.

CHAPTER 6

As Dabi refuses to elaborate on who he is and what bad things he has done, angel starts getting more paranoid. Especially knowing that he might’ve possibly entered her house at night or stalked her. As much as she enjoyed his company, she doesn’t feel safe, so she decides to listen to her brother’s warnings and stop talking to Dabi. Though Dabi is anything but pleased with her decision.

CHAPTER 7

She has been keeping watch for a few nights by now, anxiously waiting just in case Dabi decided to appear again, living in constant fear. Strange dreams appear in her sleep, of him being so close to her, touching her body in ways she begs for more. But is this really just a dream?

CHAPTER 8

“You like the danger don’t cha?” Dabi smirks. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”

CHAPTER 9

Time for a real date. Giving Dabi another chance, she again lets herself swim in dangerous waters, though this time she won’t come back unscathed

CHAPTER 10

Giving in to the temptation and burning desire that could no longer be contained, she finally lets her body and soul into Dabi’s hands.

.

.

Divider credits @cafekitsune

🏷️current tags on this fic: @mostlyheinous @dabihawksluva @scariusaquarius @syrenkitsune @touyalove @awalkingshame @dabislittlebeaniebaby @madsttx @cr-33-d , if you want to be added in the taglist and get notified when a new chapter drops, let me know!

fbi open up // my hero academia (social media au) [completed]

amongst search histories and private youtube videos

bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

genre: university/college au, fluff, crack, angst

warnings: swearing, sexual themes, adult stuff in general, jokes about dying, bakugo, slow burn, violence

disc: all pictures i used were found on pinterest and belong to their respective artists! i’ve only watermarked edits i’ve made!

taglist closed! thank you for your interest ;3

part one: todoroki shoto step on me

part two: squash me with your biceps

part three: this isn't about you anymore

part four: you can't threaten me with a good time

part five: we don't ice our drinks like pussies

part six: say sike rn

part seven: they're not so nice anymore

part eight: i'll do anything for a spicy man

part nine: payback for puking on my shoes

part ten: teasing and threatening

part eleven: i'll cut you

part twelve: how is he hotter when i'm sober

part thirteen: like some eboy

part fourteen: i don't really care if you're into turtle porn

part fifteen: "what i want shinsou hitoshi for"

part sixteen: bakugo this is not a drill

part seventeen: everybody press the red button

part eighteen: please put the baby aside

part nineteen: you're a menace to society, cupcake

part twenty: i haven't invited you yet babe

part twenty-one: oh

part twenty-two: you don't mean anything to me

part twenty-three: can't a girl crave some ramen

part twenty-four: being a bitch for bitch's sake

part twenty-five: hiding in your rooms like pussies

part twenty-six: what, no cupcake?

part twenty-seven: i’ll break all your teeth

part twenty-eight: i’m not whipped

part twenty-nine: it’s not very baby of you

part thirty: be my girlfriend

part thirty-one: who do you want?

part thirty-two: he says he doesn’t care

part thirty-three: a knife in my bedside drawer

part thirty-four: bubbly fun wheat juice

part thirty-five: can't cut carrots for shit though

part thirty-six: i'm going on a bird hunt

part thirty-seven: get in line bakuhoe (written)

part thirty-eight: don't be the dumbass now, love

part thirty-nine: i think my boyfriend's been kidnapped

bonus part forty: love you too babe

thanks for reading!

main masterlist

Amir is a young child suffering from a skin disease that spreads all over his body, caused by the harsh conditions he faces due to war and siege. The prevention of medicine and cleaning supplies, along with contaminated water, has led to the proliferation of skin diseases in him. Amir endures severe pain and constant health fears, and he is in urgent need of assistance and donations to receive the necessary healthcare and restore his health.

https://gofund.me/3ebf0c0f

bkg slowburn partners to lovers excellence

fyi: aged up, drinking, not beta'd, deal w it

Cupid's Chokehold (3.7k)

"I'm falling in love with you."

It rolls off your tongue without a second thought, and you relish the relief of your confession. Katsuki can't control his surprise, and you can read his answer off his face, and for a brief moment, you regret making your move.

The sting of rejection is quickly numbed purely by willpower, and you laugh airily.

"You have a terrible poker face," you tease lightly. You steel yourself for the next part by deeply breathing through your teeth. "You aren't interested in me."

"It's not like that," Katsuki mumbles quietly, his ears turning pink. "I need to focus on my career. We both do."

"Gotcha," you whisper, looking off into space, head turned away from him. "No, you're right." You clear your throat and begin to wrap up your trash from your forgotten lunch.

Katsuki seems to want to stop you, but he's silent as he watches you step out of your seat and make a quick visit to the nearest trash bin.

"Look, we're good," you assure him as you prepare to end this shared meal. "Nothing's changed. We're partners."

Katsuki raises a brow at you, remaining in his seat. "Then how come you're leaving?"

You respond with a dry laugh, fighting down the pit in the back of your throat. "Give a girl a second to wallow, Bakugo," you huff. Shrugging, you awkwardly shift your weight back and forth between your stance. "At least I won't be so distracted during patrols anymore."

It's your weak attempt to lighten the mood. Although, it's hard to commit when trying to come to terms with your rejection. Unfortunately, Katsuki doesn't find it amusing, and his expression remains a combination of surprise and confusion.

"I won't be as weird tomorrow," you brush off sheepishly. "Get home safe." With a single nod, you turn to leave before anything can stop you.

You feel like you can breathe again once you shut your door and feel your car engine rumble to life. Before you can shift gears, a wave of embarrassment and shame washes over you, and you throw your head back against your seat.

Pressing your hands against your face, you let out a sound of anguish, feeling like a fool. Raking your fingers back through your hair, you sigh.

"You just can't shut up sometimes, can you?" Your voice is quiet as it disturbs the otherwise silence in your car. "Brush it off. You're not dying." You shake your head and quickly note where the alcohol in your apartment is for when you get home.

-

Katsuki doesn't notice anything different about your dynamic in the days following your confession. You make eye contact easily and banter with him like nothing has happened. You're civil and, for the most part, stay on task during patrol.

You're the perfect partner, and yet, Katsuki can sense something has shifted.

"You're late," he grumbles, glaring at you as you stride to your desk with a compostable coffee cup in your hands.

"Would you relax," you dismiss him with a flimsy wave of your hand. You drop your bag onto your chair and start peeling off your layers. "We don't start for another ten minutes. I'll be right back."

You disappear to change into your uniform, and Katsuki takes this opportunity to invade your privacy.

"You don't drink coffee," he states skeptically after bringing your cup up to his nose and taking a whiff. The stench from the coffee is strong but not enough to cover up the scent of your lipstick coating the mouthpiece. He didn't even realize you wore makeup.

"Hey, don't drink my drink," you chastise as soon as you return, adjusting the sleeves of your uniform.

"You don't even like coffee," he accuses, setting your cup back on your desk. You respond with an incredulous laugh.

"No, you don't like coffee," you correct him. "I'm perfectly happy drinking coffee."

"Why would you need to drink it anyways? Didn't you get enough sleep?" Katsuki's glare softens as he gives you a quick scan, picking up the exhaustion clouding your eyes and the tentative way you handle your stationery. "Did you at least eat something? I don't need you passing out on me during a fight."

"You almost sound worried," you say with a dry tone, covering it up with a hollow chuckle. "Where's the trust, man?"

"There is none," Katsuki bites back quickly, but the humored glint in your eyes relieves him. "Are you almost ready to head out?"

"Can we ever just start when our shift starts?" You groan with a roll of your eyes as you return your stationery to their respective spots on your desk.

"Being on time is being late," Katsuki reminds you of what feels like the millionth time since he's met you.

He can hear you poorly imitate him behind his back, but when he turns to glare at you, you're inspecting your nails and obviously feigning innocence.

It's all too normal for his liking, and he's unsure why. He should feel grateful that you're not awkward after your confession and that you've moved past it and carried on your professionalism, but he's not. Not entirely, at least.

A little part of him can't stop hearing your confession.

"I'm falling in love with you."

Every time he meets your eyes, there's a brief pause, and Katsuki can't tell if it's imagination. You glow whenever you smile, even if it's not directed at him, and he can't look away from you.

You still grab lunch with him after your shifts, although now there's a thin blanket of tension veiling your conversations. And, outside of work, there's no contact from you.

Katsuki misses the days when you'd message him in the morning before your shifts, asking if he wanted anything from the shop that you stopped by for quick meals. He'd never take you up on your offer, but now he'll see you walk in with a to-go cup and wonder if you forgot to text him. He knows the truth, though.

You're trying to get over him. He can see right through your efforts, no matter how subtle you're trying to be. Katsuki notices the way you freeze up whenever he brushes his hand against your arm or grabs at you to check for injuries.

Every time, without fail, you'll clear your throat and yank yourself away from him, avoiding his accusing glare.

"I'm fine," you grit out, holding your arm that's obviously in pain. "I'll be good. Thanks."

Just let me take care of you, Katsuki will think bitterly to himself, watching you stagger away and doing nothing about it. You never used to be this difficult when he was just trying to do his job.

You'd argue that caring for you wasn't part of the job, and he'd find every fiber of him disagreeing with you.

"What are you doing this Friday?"

You're obviously surprised once you comprehend what Katsuki is asking towards the end of your patrol. You look flustered and waging an internal battle in your head.

"My idiot friends are having their monthly get-together," Katsuki explains, uncharacteristically mumbling. "They asked if you wanted to join."

"What?" You laugh, amusement washing away your nerves. "You're inviting me? What are they holding over you to do this?"

Katsuki glares at you, irritated that you guessed correctly. Mina threatened him to invite you, otherwise, she'd show up unannounced at the agency and introduce herself.

Normally, he'd go unphased by her threats, but ever since your confession, Katsuki's felt a shred of anguish that you'll disappear one day.

Even if he couldn't give you the relationship you hoped for, he wanted to provide for you somehow. And, if he had to expose you to his personal life a little more, then he was okay with that. As long as it meant you'd stay with him.

"They threatened to ambush us during a patrol if I didn't."

You fail to stifle your laugh, and Katsuki hopes to elicit more of that from you.

"I appreciate the offer," you eventually answer, and Katsuki feels elated at your initial positivity. It quickly dissipates when you reject his invitation. "I have plans this Friday, actually. For once." You laugh at your deprecating allusion, but Katsuki maintains his aloof expression.

"Suddenly, you're too good for my friends?" It was meant to be a joke, but his abrasive tone reveals his vulnerable ego.

You visibly hesitate to respond, and Katsuki wonders what you're fighting yourself on. What are you holding back from him?

"I have plans already," you repeat with more force, finalizing your explanation, and Katsuki feels irritation bubbling in his stomach.

You didn't make plans that required you to leave your apartment often – Katsuki knew this. You lived with your best friend, so most of your time outside of work was spent at home. Whenever you managed to come across real plans that involved wearing nicer clothes than sweatpants, you'd normally chat Katsuki's ear off about your anticipation.

"Do you have a date?" He blurts his question out before he can comprehend the thought, and he can feel the tips of his ears get warm with embarrassment.

You can't fight back the surprise from reaching your face, and Katsuki knows the answer before you nod.

You laugh sheepishly at getting caught, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear – a nervous habit Katsuki has caught on to after two years of working with you.

"Yeah, I do," you murmur, looking everywhere but at him. "My roommate set it up with her boyfriend's friend."

How come you didn't tell me, he wants to ask, but he already knows. "Is he nice?"

"Yeah, he's..." He watches your eyes glaze over as you get stuck in your head before clearing your throat. "He's nice. Why?"

Katsuki shrugs, feigning indifference. Inside, he's frustrated, but he knows he shouldn't be.

You're his partner. His work partner.

As long as this random head that's taking you out doesn't distract you during your patrols – when you're with him – then he can't shouldn't complain.

"Will you tell me how it goes?" His question is quiet because he's embarrassed to ask, but he wants to know. He knows not knowing will bother him, and he can't explain to himself why.

"Um, sure," you hesitate to answer, almost questioning yourself.

You keep details of your date private from him after Friday comes and goes. The curiosity eats at Katsuki whenever he catches you glancing at your phone or smiling at yourself at your desk, but he keeps it to himself.

-

Your shift today was harder than usual. A few minor misdemeanors followed up with a villain attack.

You could tell that Katsuki was frustrated throughout the whole time, keeping quiet and growling to himself more often than usual.

After, when you were packing up your things to leave for the day, you noticed Katsuki sitting at his desk with his head hanging low. His arms are relaxed against the chair handles and you think he looks defeated as people walk past him without a glance.

"Trying to get food?" You pipe up, sliding past him to lean back against his desk. You keep your demeanor light, resting your hands against the surface and keeping your chin up. "I'm starving."

"You head out without me," he mumbles, flicking his hand.

"Nah," you hum, smiling at him with encouragement. "Come eat with me."

"Wouldn't that make your boyfriend uncomfortable?"

Boyfriend? You frown at your partner, tilting your head with a curious look.

"My nonexistent boyfriend would probably be more concerned with my obnoxious partner giving me attitude when I'm hungry."

Katsuki finally looks up at you, and you widen your eyes in exaggeration.

"Oh my god, finally," you rasp, holding your hand against your chest. "I was planning on getting you a vest for your birthday to help you with your posture."

"You don't even know when my birthday is," he answers with a sneer, but it doesn't phase you.

"Of course I know when your birthday is, Bakugo," you tell him. "Now, can we please go eat?" You bounce off of his desk and pat his bare shoulder, shortly relishing the satisfying warmth that emits from his body.

Katsuki catches you by surprise when he holds your hand against his arm, squeezing gently.

"Are you okay?" You ask him, knowing what his answer will be but hoping for a rare moment of vulnerability.

"Just tired," he mumbles, not looking at you. You smile softly, understanding where his exhaustion might be coming from, and use your other hand to pat his spiky head.

"You're working hard," you remind him with sympathy. "You did a good job today."

Katsuki doesn't say anything, just responds with a nod.

You start to pull away, but he holds you in place for another moment. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you're hit with a familiar wave of infatuation that you've been desperate to avoid.

"We did a good job today," he finally says. "We're partners."

"I know, Bakugo." As badly as I want to be more, we're just partners. "You're not getting rid of me, unfortunately."

You're forced to yank your hand out of his, avoiding his glare when he turns back to look at you.

"Let's head out already," you plead, creating some distance between you before checking back to see if he's following you.

You can't fight back your smile when you find him out of his seat and pacing over to you.

-

Katsuki hates seeing you in Mina's apartment. It's like his worlds are colliding, and he's still not mentally prepared after a week.

He's grateful you let him pick you up and take you instead of finding your way there. He's also quietly pleased that you're glued to his side because you don't know any of his friends.

"I hope your friend likes this wine," you nervously babble in his ear, and it makes his skin vibrate with how close you are. "How do you not know what alcohol your friends like?"

"Cause I don't care," he bites back, arms crossed over his chest and sending you his normal glare. "And you shouldn't either. Not like they're your friends."

That was obviously not the right thing to say, and Katsuki immediately regrets it when he watches your expression fall.

"Then, why did you invite me?" You sound frustrated and lean away from him slightly. "What am I doing here?"

"Saving me from a night of nuisances."

Katsuki thinks he hears you mumble "Typically," but doesn't respond because Mina and Eijiro approach.

"Hey, Bakubro," Eijiro greets with a wide smile, clapping a hand against Katsuki's arm. "And hello to you too!"

You give them your name with a polite smile and present Mina with your gift. Katsuki has to fight the urge to put his arm around you – to protect you from his friend.

"I didn't know what to bring, but I hope you like this wine."

Mina squeals in delight, taking the bottle from your hands and inspecting it before throwing herself at you. Katsuki's skin prickles at the sight.

"I love wine!" She cries with glee. "You're so considerate! Bakugo never brings me anything."

"When do you ever bring me anything?"

"When do you invite me over?"

The glare Katsuki sends Mina is fatal, but she's unbothered, much to your apparent satisfaction.

"Let's open this right now!" Mina drags you away by the arm, and your panicked expression is enough to bring a soft smile to Katsuki's lips.

"So, she's the partner?" Eijiro takes your spot next to Katsuki and nudges his arm. "Think she's into you?"

The question makes Katsuki scoff, sending his friend a silencing look.

"She is? How'd you find out?"

"She told me," he answers gruffly. "Over a month ago."

Eijiro's eyes almost bug out of his head with how surprised he is.

"Why didn't you say anything? That's awesome, dude."

"Why would that be awesome?"

"Because it's obvious you're into her too?" Eijiro's brows furrow as he looks at Katsuki, who feels a burning fire in his chest light up.

"Excuse me?"

Eijiro sighs, scratching the dark scruff under his jaw. "Come on, man."

"What?"

"You invited her to Mina's shindig," Eijiro points out. "You've been her partner for, what? A few years now, and you're finally bringing her around to meet us?" Katsuki just glares at him.

"Maybe you should mind your business," he tells his friend.

"You're defensive because you know I'm making a good point."

"When have you ever made a good point?"

Eijiro feigns offense when he puckers his bottom lip out in a pout. "I've been known to have good insight occasionally."

"This isn't one of those occasions." Katsuki notices you reappear from the kitchen with Mina, carrying four glasses of wine between you. He clears his throat obnoxiously, successfully silencing Eijiro with a look this time around.

"Hey, here's a glass," you tell him, handing him one from your hand. Katsuki takes it but isn't sure what to do with it.

"I didn't ask for this," he mentions as Mina hands Eijiro his glass.

"He means, 'thank you'," Eijiro answers for him.

"You don't speak for me," Katsuki barks, but your soft laughter kills his irritation.

"Don't worry, I know how he works," you tell his friends as you sip your drink. "He's actually holding my second glass for me."

Mina giggles at your statement, but the smile on your lips tells Katsuki that you aren't joking.

A short while later, after Mina moves on to her other guests and Katsuki has resituated you and him on the couch, you swap glasses with him.

You're invested in a conversation with Sero, angled away from Katsuki, but your legs are curled under you, and the fabric of your socks flick against his legs.

"I'll be back," he mumbles as he rises to his feet, empty wine glass in hand.

He finds himself in Mina's kitchen, a few guests lingering around and chatting. He comes across the wine you brought, empty in an ocean of half-drunk bottles.

Before returning to the couch, he refills your first glass with another wine he finds himself hoping you'll like. You're alone and on your phone by the time he comes back.

"Decide to join in on the fun?" You ask with a beaming smile once you realize he's returned. Katsuki finds himself pleased at the sight of you dropping your phone into your lap without hesitation as he falls into the cushion next to you.

"For you," he says plainly. "For when you finish that glass."

You frown at him playfully, taking another swig from his original glass. "You trying to get me drunk?"

"God, no," he exasperates. "Wanna make sure you're having a good time."

"Good call filling up another glass then," you laugh.

I know how you work too, he finds himself thinking.

"I am having a good time, though," you confess, resting your hand on his leg and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you for inviting me. I like your friends."

"I think they like you more than they like me."

"Everybody likes me more than they like you. That's how our dynamic works."

Our dynamic. Everything you tell him comes out more meaningful than he assumes you intend. Katsuki doesn't know when that started to happen.

He cherishes the dynamic between you, and for the first time, he's worried that it's in jeopardy. That it's been strained since you confessed to him, and, right now, he's on borrowed time with you.

"Thank you," he tells you. "For coming. You didn't have to."

"I did, though, " you correct him. "Mina tells me she would have shown up unannounced at the agency if you kept me from her any longer."

"Well, she's an idiot."

You give him a knowing smile, leaning against his arm. "Then, you're an idiot by association."

"Shut the hell up."

Your gentle laughter is muffled by the wine glass against your lips. You finish your drink in a single sip and immediately hold the emptied glass to Katsuki. He wordlessly switches your glasses.

He watches intently as you take an experimental sip from the wine he chose for you, and the satisfied hum you release tells him you approve of his choice.

"This is really good. Nice choice," you tell him, holding it out for him. "Did you try it?"

"I'm driving us, remember?" He glares at you for your ridiculous question, but you roll your eyes.

"It's a sip, Katsu-" You stop yourself midway, and Katsuki notices the flush in your cheeks, but not without actively searching for it. "it's just a sip, okay? Try it."

You're shoving the rim of the glass to his lips before he can call you out on your mistake. He reluctantly takes a little sip and his face twists in disgust.

"I don't like wine," he tells you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after you spill some against his face.

"Well, that's a shame," you sigh dejectedly, throwing back the remaining wine with a few swigs. Even Katsuki knows wine isn't chugging alcohol. "I'm gonna run to the bathroom."

And when you return a few minutes later, Katsuki notices you curl up in your seat a little further from him.

an: wrote this for @/sarahlovesseb ♡

💜7 mins in heaven with Dabi: Pt. 5💙

Continuation of Part 4

Walking back to the table, you notice Hitoshi eyeing you suspiciously. Part of you felt guilty towards Hitoshi considering what the two of you did this morning, while the other part of you felt smug that you finally one-uped the most notorious player on campus.

Casually, you sit next to Hitoshi which was Touya's previous spot. Reaching across the table, you grab your bag and open it again to finish eating your donut. Tomura was now diagonal from you and was shooting you a questioning look.

"Where's Touya?"

"I saw him go into the restroom as I came out." The lie rolled off your tongue easily, not even batting an eye as you take a bite of your donut. It tasted even sweeter than before.

Hitoshi shifts next to you, moving slightly closer as you stared back at Tomura innocently. Yo and Keigo were on the other side of Hitoshi and Tomura respectively, lost in their own conversation. Tomura's gaze was calculating, which was starting to make you uncomfortable. You assumed he was the quiet stay-in-my-business type, but now you weren't so sure. Thankfully Keigo noticed you were back and spoke up.

"Hey, (Y/n), are youf doin' anyfin' tonight?" The question was muffled around a mouthful of donut.

"Nope. Just free-loading with this guy." Elbowing Hitoshi playfully, you spare him a glance seeing that he was already staring at you with a gaze you didn't quite understand.

Looking back to Keigo, your answer seemed to trigger his memory of what he walked into this morning. His chewing slowed and Hitoshi shifted next to you again also noticing Keigo's gaze.

"Riigghhttt..." Keigo swallowed, uncertain, "well I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party with us tonight? It's being held at the same place as before."

Memories from that night flooded your mind and you couldn't help but sigh. That's when this whole mess started.

"Why do I get the feeling all you do is party?" You teased Keigo instead, setting your donut down on the bag as you leaned back into your seat. Your hands found their way to your lap, accidentally brushing against Hitoshi's hand which was resting on his thigh. His other hand was visible on the table, playing with the lid of his coffee cup absently.

Hitoshi subtly moves his hand and brushes against yours again, the two of you having your hands next to each other under the table.

Holding back a shy smile, you bite your lower lip as Keigo rolls his eyes. "We're in college! Partying is part of the learning experience!"

Just then, a body slumps into the seat in front of you. Everyone turns and looks at Touya whose gaze was solely fixated on you.

You tilt your head slightly in question, innocent enough for everyone else at the table but the knowing glint in your eyes had Touya's eyes flashing.

Hitoshi's hand twitches against yours under the table.

A closer look at Touya and you could see the flushed glowing skin on his cheeks. Raising an eyebrow, you lift the hand not next to Hitoshi and break off a piece of your donut, biting into it slowly.

"Are you good?" Hitoshi asks, speaking up for everyone at the table. Touya never breaks his gaze from you.

"Never better."

His words were low and knowing, but you shrug nonchalantly and turn back to Keigo. "Sure, I'll go."

"Yessss!" Keigo pumps the air with his arm.

"Go where?" Touya asks, and you can see him still staring at you in your peripheral.

"Oh, I just invited (Y/n) to the party tonight!" Keigo explains before turning to scold Yo for sneaking two more donuts.

Touya hums from across the table, probably thinking the same thing you did. You couldn't help the blush that found its way to your cheek, but you busied yourself with the donut, not looking up at anyone.

"I'll go too," Hitoshi speaks up suddenly, removing his hand from under the table to lean back and stretch his hands above his head. Keigo gasps harshly and everyone else at the table turns to look at him in surprise.

"You? At a party?!" Yo gaps at Hitoshi, chewed-up donut visible in his mouth. Hitoshi grimaces in disgust and looks down at his coffee before looking to stare at Touya.

"Why not? It seems as though I missed out on these 'learning experiences.'"

Touya didn't say anything in return but met Hitoshi's gaze head-on, his stare cold and unwavering making an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach.

~*~*~*~*

Breakfast ended soon after that as classes were starting for a few people, including you.

You parted ways with Hitoshi after discussing class schedules and deciding on a place to meet so you two could both head back to his dorm before the party.

Class went by in a blur, a few people talking about the dorms that got shut down and the few scandalous roommate situations that had come up as a result.

You tried eavesdropping on a few conversations wondering if your name would come up. Hitoshi was a low-key person, but since he was close friends with some notorious people on campus, you weren't sure what to expect.

"I tried asking Touya if I could stay with him, but he didn't even pay attention to me!" A girl whined to her friends in front of you as you flipped a page in your notebook, pretending to take notes.

A few of her friends 'awed' in pity, trying to console her. "Well, you know what they say about Touya...you should've known he wouldn't go back to you."

One of the friends spoke up truthfully and another shot her a 'shut-up' look. However, the girl whining only sniffed and nodded her head solemnly.

"Yeah...I know. If only I could relive that night again..." she sighs dreamily. This time all of her friends echo her dreamy sign.

"We all do," they say simultaneously.

Yikes.

Your lips curl up in disgust and tune them out, not bothering to listen to whatever details they were going to relive.

Absently, you start doodling on the paper. Little hearts and flowers scattered along the border. Your mind wonders to this morning, before the coffee shop. Sure, discovering you had somehow managed to one-up Touya was surprising, but Hitoshi's coy smirk was lodged in your brain.

The sound of his voice when he called you 'kitten' or just the simple fact he gave up his room for you to sleep in for however long you needed.

Not to mention the almost-kiss you had. Lately, it seemed like you've had a few of those close calls which didn't settle right in your stomach. First with Touya and then with Hitoshi, but out of the two, you felt more drawn to-

Your phone buzzed twice in succession, snapping you out of your daze.

brainwxshed: hey

bvrnt.eros: hey

Are you fucking kidding me?

You look at both messages, torn between who to answer first or if you should even answer them at all. Touya was the troubled one and the one you weren't too happy with at the moment no matter how downright sinful he was.

Hitoshi on the other hand has done nothing wrong to warrant your anger. Putting your pencil down, you slouch lower in your seat and open your phone, tapping on Hitoshi's message.

you: hii

You see him typing, but your fingers itch to tap on Touya's message too.

Should I? What does he have to say? Is he going to talk about this morning? Is he-

brainwxshed: sooo about this party later...what should i expect? fuck that sounds so lame...

You smile fondly.

you: you don't have to go if you're uncomfortable. im not to big on parties either. I just went to one that one time.

And look at my consequences.

brainwxshed: im going if you're going. gotta protect my little kitten.

brainwxshed: *the little kitten.

Your face heats and you drop your phone on your desk, holding in a squeal. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as it did backflips. Asshole. You knew that wasn't a typo and he was teasing you again but you couldn't find it in you to be mad.

Rubbing your face with your hands, you pick your phone up and switch to Touya's message to hopefully calm down.

you: what?

bvrnt.eros: hm...you're cold, (Y/n). i think i should be the one mad at you for what you did to me this morning.

Yep. There it is.

you: not my fault.

bvrnt.eros: oh dollface...but it was. walking off like that and leaving me alone to take care of myself after you made me so fucking hard...

Conflicting emotions shot through you.

you: again...not intentional so it's not my fault.

bvrnt.eros: i don't think you understand the concept of sexting, let me explain-

Gritting your teeth, you go back to Hitoshi's message.

you: protection from...?

brainwxshed: hey, you never know. i've heard stories and one thing i know for sure is that college parties are never good☝🏻...and they're crowded.

you: ahh...is that why you never went to one?

brainwxshed: ...partially. but also, why go when i can watch studio ghibli films in my dorm and draw?

Just then another message popped down from Touya.

bvrnt.eros: so sexting is basically like dirty talk over text. i said you made me hard this morning and i jerked off to the thought of you in the donut shop bathroom and you're supposed to respond with something sexy to keep the conversation going.

Oh my-

Angrily you tap on the message.

you: im not stupid and im not sexting you.

bvrnt.eros: boooo 🍅

You tap back to Hitoshi's message.

you: that sounds nice actually. if you wanna stay in your dorm, i'll stay with you.

brainwxshed: stay with me? careful kitten~ we might end up like this morning~

Your face heats up again.

you: i have no idea what you're talking about.

brainwxshed: 'stay with me' and i can show you later~

Another message from Touya pops down

bvrnt.eros: soo...this party tonight is kinda like our anniversary hm? how should we celebrate 👀

With every message Touya sends, you feel more agitated. He's ruining the mood that keeps building between you and Hitoshi. You swipe his message away and return to Hitoshi's message.

you: are you gonna kiss me for real this time?

Or so you thought.

bvrnt.eros: ...fuck.

bvrnt.eros: dollface i would kiss you all over if you let me.

Fuck.

Your body went ridged seeing Touya respond to the message meant for Hitoshi. Realizing you sent it to the wrong person and adding fuel to the fire that you were so desperately trying to put out.

Do I tell him that wasn't for him? Will he know I meant to send that to Hitoshi? How do I respond to Hitoshi now?

Your fingers twitch over your keypad, panic rising inside of you. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

bvrnt.eros: im looking forward to tonight, (Y/n).

Your fingers frantically type out many different forms of 'no' and 'that wasn't for you' but couldn't find one to settle on and send. The fact that Hitoshi was also waiting on a response made you panic even more.

Calm down, (Y/n).

Locking your phone, you set it down and take a deep breath. Deciding not to say anything more and make it worse, you shakily put your phone down and tune back into the professor who was dismissing the class.

You had to meet up with Hitoshi soon anyways and you weren't sure you could even look him in the eyes. Guilt washes over you, not knowing what to do or how to fix this situation. Tonight was not going to be fun.

~*~*~*~*

You met with Hitoshi soon after.

He was smirking at you avoiding him, but you knew he probably thought you were embarrassed from the text conversation when in reality that wasn't the case at all. Maybe under different circumstances you might've been, but because you were so careless-

"I need to stop at my old dorm and get extra clothes," remembering the text from this morning about the repairs not being finished and since you only packed for today, you needed more clothes.

"Sure," Hitoshi nods as the two of you begin to walk to the South dorms. "So..." he starts, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You gulp.

"So?"

Hitoshi smirks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"So about earlier..."

"Earlier? What happened earlier?" Panic rose in your chest. Did he find out? Did Touya screenshot your message and send it to him? Oh God what if-

Hitoshi turns and cuts in front of you, a pierced eyebrow raised in concern. "The party. You never told me what to expect."

A heavy breath leaves you in a rush.

"Right. The party." Shouldering past Hitoshi, you try to calm down, opening the door to the South dorms, frigid air hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Cursing lightly, you walk faster to your room and fumble with the door, footsteps cautiously catching up.

"Um..." Throwing open the door, you let Hitoshi in as you go to rummage through your closet. "Well, there's going to be a lot of people and alcohol. Music can be expected too. Just typical college party stuff," you mouth off quickly, still rattled thinking that Hitoshi found out about earlier.

Hitoshi wasn't even paying attention, walking around your dorm room and observing the little trinkets and decorations you had. It's only been one night, but you did miss it here. You turn back to your closet and pack a week's worth of clothes just in case and shove them into a bag.

"I really hope they fix the heater soon. I don't want to overstay or anything," you comment absently, folding a pair of pants.

"I thought you liked staying with me?" Hitoshi's voice was low and closer than expected, making you jump. Well, that certainly didn't take long for him to bring that part of the conversation up.

It felt as though he was right by your ear and you couldn't find the courage to turn around. Shakily, you place the pants in your bag and sidestep before turning and walking to your dresser to pull out undergarments.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hitoshi still standing there, probably confused, before slowly turning towards you again.

"I do! I mean, thank you, but still. A week is a long time," you explain, counting off a checklist in your brain. Now...what to wear tonight...

You hastily pull open the bottom drawer, finding a short black dress you've only worn once before.

"Okay, I'm finished." Turning to Hitoshi, you shove the dress in the bag and walk back towards the door.

"Let's go, I'm freezing." Smiling innocently, Hitoshi regards you with a thoughtful look, not saying anything as you two leave the room. Locking the door and exiting the building was met with silence.

Hitoshi seemed lost in his thoughts and didn't say a word on the way back to his dorm for the two of you to get ready.

~*~*~*~*

The party was already packed by the time you and Hitoshi showed up. He stuck close to your side, looking uncomfortable at the number of people in such a small space. You didn't blame him, also wanting to get out of here as soon as possible and hopefully avoid Touya.

Of course, fate has other plans for you.

"(Y/n) and Hitoshi, over here!" Keigo calls out loudly over the music. Cursing, you trudge over and avoid looking at the piercing blue eyes already next to Keigo.

A warm flush finds its way to your face anyway and you manage a small smile at Keigo. Tomura and Yo were off to the side talking while drinking some beers. You try to recall if you saw them at the previous party but the only thing you remember is woodsy musk, sandalwood, and cigarette smoke.

I need to get out of here.

"Perfect timing! We were just about to play spin the bottle truth or dare!" Keigo motions to the large group of people surrounding the area and they cheer loudly.

Nope.

You take a large step back holding up your hands. "Have fun!"

"Awh c'mon, (Y/n)," Touya teases across from you. "It'll be fun. Just like last time." After stressing the last part, he glances at Hitoshi smugly and another wave of guilt washes over you.

You grit your teeth and shake your head, anxiety creeping up your spine. To your surprise, Hitoshi only steps forward.

"I'll play."

Keigo cheers excitedly, pumping his fist. "Oh, dude, this is the best day ever!"

Tomura had stopped talking to Yo, who was still talking regardless if Tomura was listening or not, observing the scene in front of him. Uncomfortable wasn't even a strong enough word you'd use to describe the situation.

Touya looked calm and collected as Hitoshi walked to stand next to him, the two of them now staring at you expectantly.

Purple and blue stared at you hotly, warmth spreading across your cheeks as they had looks of longing. Both held heat and memories of almost-kisses, but only one of them had a false knowing of what you said earlier.

"Uh..." Not knowing what to do, the whole group of college students now eagerly waited for you to answer.

"GUESS WHO'S BACK, FUCKERS!" The door slammed open suddenly, a loud voice ringing loud over the music.

Everyone turned to the door and loud cheers rang out, cutting the tension. Your shoulders sag in relief seeing Touya and Hitoshi finally look away from you. You follow their gaze seeing a blonde-haired man wearing black joggers and a black sweatshirt grinning manically at everyone welcoming him back.

"Kat!" Keigo calls out, running up to clap him on the back. "Man, this day really couldn't get any better!"

Well, at least someone is having a good time.

Kat claps Keigo on the back too and walks over to the group in front of you. Yo groans, making Kat roll his eyes and flick him on the forehead.

Yo scowls and rubs his head. Tomura greets Kat with a small smile and nod, offering to get him a beer. Touya grins and steps up, ruffling the spikey blonde hair making Kat snarl as he swats the hand away. Hitoshi was last, dapping up Kat fondly with a muted, "Hey, bro."

Hitoshi turns to you and motions you over.

"Katsuki, this is (Y/n). (Y/n), this is Katsuki." You awkwardly smile, not sure if this was the right time to be meeting Hitoshi's roommate. Brother?

"Hey," Katsuki smirks, giving Hitoshi a look you didn't miss. Or Touya. "Hitoshi told me the situation already. It's cool if you still need a place to stay, but I'll need my room back."

The realization hit you suddenly and you risk a glance at Hitoshi who also had a small blush on his face, avoiding your gaze.

Seeing him blush made you blush more, awkwardly shifting your stance. Katsuki cackles at the sight of you and Hitoshi, but lays off the teasing, turning to Tomura who hands him a beer.

"So what are we doing?" He asks, biting the lid off with his teeth. Your mouth drops open slightly in awe as Keigo happily fills Katsuki in.

"Heh, spin the bottle, 'Toshi? What the hell happened when I was away?" Katsuki asks, shooting you another quick glance.

Hitoshi grumbles something you can't hear, making Katsuki smirk, and the both of them walk back to the circle. You go to follow and notice Touya's seething face once Hitoshi leaves your field of vision.

You quickly move away and go back to your previous spot, Tomura now standing next to you. "Are you okay?"

He whispered the question low, and you let out a huge breath you didn't know you were holding.

"No."

Tomura reaches out a hand, concerned, and you grab it shakily. He squeezes your hand and you squeeze it back, thankful for the reassurance.

"Right! So who wants to start?" Keigo announces to the large group of college students. A lot of cheers and drunken words rang out.

Tomura keeps a hold of your hand, tucking into your side as you stare at the damned bottle on the table. Touya and Hitoshi were back to standing next to each other across from you and if they were staring at you and Tomura holding hands, you couldn't find it in you to care. Though you were sure Tomura was staring right back without a care in the world.

"You're going to have to make a decision sometime." Tomura lays his head on your shoulder, murmuring solemnly. The question doesn't surprise you since you noticed his observation skills, so you were sure he had caught on long ago.

"...I know," you mutter back, still staring at the bottle unblinkingly. It was nice to have someone to talk to. You haven't told anyone of the situation going on and the drama that followed, so finding comfort in Tomura was reassuring and needed. Although unexpected.

"Do you have any clue which one?" Tomura asks, the both of you locked in your own world, watching Katsuki be the first one to spin.

Do I?

Honestly, it felt like you've been debating this question constantly for the past few days. Both made your heart race with excitement. Touya kept you on your toes but had a bad reputation and a cocky attitude to match. Hitoshi was unexpected in the way he welcomed you with open arms, but loved to tease you endlessly.

As of right now, there were no cons with Hitoshi but yet something still prevented you from committing fully.

"Not a clue," you finally admit, leaning your cheek on Tomura's head.

Tomura hums and the two of you watch Katsuki dare Yo to do a keg stand. Yo blanches as the crowd starts chanting his name in encouragement.

"Great. Now I'll have to deal with that later," Tomura sighs, annoyed.

Yo glares at a smirking Katsuki before flipping himself into a handstand, his shirt falling down making the crowd whistle and catcall him jokingly.

"Hm?"

"Yo. He's my roommate and cannot handle anything more than 2 beers," Tomura explains. "Which, Katsuki knows that."

You hum again and watch Yo stumble back down on his feet, looking green. Katsuki throws his arm around Yo's neck, saying something which only had Yo hiccuping in response.

"Your turn to spin, Yo!" Keigo exclaims excitedly.

Yo sways to the table and half-heartedly spins the bottle. It didn't spin very much and slowly made its way to you. You grip Tomura's hand tighter, watching the bottle stop.

Keigo cheers loudly.

"Truth or dare, (Y/n)?" Yo slurs, trying to focus his gaze on you.

"Uh...truth?" You whisper almost shyly, hearing the crowd boo.

Yo holds a hand to his chin to think. "Hm...who do you like more-"

"Dare!" You cut him off, not wanting him to finish that sentence. You were not going to risk that. People cheer at your change of heart.

"Okayyyy," Yo hiccups, "I dare you to do a 7 minutes in heaven with someone."

Yeah, no, that's completely better.

Keigo all but squeals, looking like he just won the lottery with how this night is going and Tomura squeezes your hand again tightly.

"Spin," Yo motions to the bottle, waiting for you.

The air seemed to crackle with electricity as you reached for the bottle, spinning it as hard as you could, praying it'd land on anyone but those two.

Touya and Hitoshi's gaze intensely watched the bottle, as the rest of the group cheered unknowingly at the tension. Your palms felt sweaty as anxiety loomed over you seeing the damned bottle slow as it towards Touya and Hitoshi.

It came to stop and the crowd 'ooh-ed' trying to figure out who it was pointing at.

"Is it...both of them?" Tomura murmured in awe, as Keigo whistled.

"Alright, I'll be the judge!" Keigo walked over to you and squatted down to see who the bottle was lined up with. "Oh wow...I've never seen this before. Ladies and gentlemen, it's split down the middle...we have a tie!" Keigo announces, hopping up.

The crowd gets hyped, all the girls shooting you a dirty look, but you really couldn't care because you were seconds away from passing out.

"Well, (Y/n)? Which one are you going to choose?"

~*~*~*~*

Touya's hitlist taglist:

@spaceisout @deputy-videogamer @magpiesworld @blahblahblahhhhhhhhhhhhhh @mod-hadagile @whokillednyx @ittybittywallflower @bubblewordsofsodapop @poopiepoopie123 @frontier-renegade @windex-princess-ami @yourfavoriteloover @ashash @shamefulwitch @allthingsleviackerman @97britt

PAID WITH AFFECTION ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, no quirk au, cuddling services and cuddle buddies, todoroki shouto is an overworked EMT, reader is a cuddle buddy, fluff, strangers to ‘is it ethical to have a crush on your cuddle buddy??!!’ god knows

wc: 1.7k

As an EMT, it was natural that Shouto be conscious of all the things around him — more so than most. After all, the job required quick thinking, keen eyes, a clear head and practiced hands. But for reasons he can’t touch upon, having you stand idly in his genkan wearing a pair of house slippers and an easy smile has his mind repeating a tedious loop, recalling every single coffee ring stain, stray sock, crease and crumb in his apartment with microscopic detail.

“Come in,” he says, lowering his head into a modest bow by way of habit. His voice is mercifully steady. You’re warm, so inviting that it disarms him. “I… I apologise for any mess. My friends requested you with the intention of surprising me”.

“They did leave a note at the end of the application to warn me,” the corner of your mouth lifts further, and you’re looking at him as if you’ve known him far longer than five minutes. Those kind eyes soften and wrinkle, “It was sweet of them to do this for you. But I do want to remind you that you can end our session at any point. I won’t mind”.

Shouto hears your voice, though the words roll over him in a gentle wave. His thoughts are muddied with fatigue, drifting elsewhere. You’ve moved closer but kept appropriate distance, head tilted in both curiosity and concern. Dipping to meet his gaze bids you to peer through your eyelashes, unintentionally demure as you call out to him.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with—?”

“I trust them,” he quietly interrupts. A moment of patient silence passes as he collects himself, tongue peeking to wet his bottom lip, to cushion the words before they leave his mouth. “They wouldn’t do this if they thought I’d be uncomfortable”.

“Still,” you pause, fiddling with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “You have an hour slot with me. Feel free to kick me out at any point”.

Red and white stands fall loose when he nods, resting over the bridge of his nose. Your eyes crinkle, gleaming with far off endearment at his obvious dishevelment. His hair is flat to one side, the impression of his couch cushion pressed pink into his right cheek; pant leg ridden up his calf, the other pooled around his ankles, his once white shirt had stretched in the dryer and now hung below the waist.

There’s the urge to apologise again and explain it away, but he wondered if it would offend you. After all, this was your job — or one of two, according to Midoriya. He’d been far more forthcoming about the whole thing. Shouto wasn’t supposed to find out, but Ochako is not as good at keeping her voice down as she thinks she is.

And Shouto is far nosier than they give him credit for. Slightly obsessive, he admits. If something is out of place, or it doesn’t make sense to him, he will pick at the problem until it bleeds.

Though he wouldn’t call this a problem. Atleast, not yet. The pads of your fingers skim gently over his wrist, squeezing his palm to retain his attention—

This could be the beginning of a big problem.

“This okay?” you apply more pressure and he swallows, overturning his hand so your fingers slide against the shallow of his palm. His heart line is light, curved like a half moon. “Shouto?”

“Sorry,” he tries to conceal a grimace. “I’m not usually like this. It has been a long week”.

“A long month from what I hear,” you add sombrely. Another reassuring squeeze. “But that’s what I’m here to help with”.

Shouto worried his inner lip between his teeth. “I’m not really… sure how these things are supposed to work,” he admits, disliking the uncertainty of it, not knowing how to find his footing.

“Well. How about I go over the fine print?” you hold him properly, knuckles entwined, the heel of your hand tucks against his life line. He can’t quite remember the last time he was shown such… casual affection.

Patients held him all the time — the younger ones, usually. Gripping his forearms, counting his fingers, braiding the colours in his hair. His friends were touchy, but his introverted tendencies often meant boundaries were assumed rather than asked for.

This is different. It feels as if he has missed a step climbing the stairs.

“Erotic or sexual behaviour is not permitted for the client nor the cuddler,” you continue, taking his silence as permission. “No use of tongue or teeth, no touching of genitals or intimate areas. And no nudity”.

“Right,” he rasps. Sex might be less unnerving than this.

“Your body will sometimes react to stimuli on its own. I understand that that alone is not a sign of consent or violation of the rules,” heat thrums under the skin of his cheeks as you level him with a kind look. “Just make sure to talk to me if anything is wrong, okay?”

“That’s a lot of rules for something as simple as cuddling”.

“Guess so. But they’re to keep us both safe,” you step closer. Something swoops in his belly, and his fingers twitch reflexively in your grasp. “We don’t need to jump right into it, either. We can sit and talk, if you like”.

God. The world is awash with colour, all because you’re in it. A sweet stranger. Todoroki Shouto, the loneliest man in the UA emergency unit. What his friends must think of him. He has reached a new low if they’d felt the need to hire someone to hug him.

Midoriya’s gentle voice reached his ears. Apologetic, but without the apology. Sorry that he wasn’t sorry. “I know it’s unorthodox, but you should give it a try, Shou. I mean, cuddles are great for your health!”

To which Ochako had added, “Yeah, Todoroki! Set an example!”

Conceding to his best friends wishes, the pair of you walk over to the couch. The cushions are wide enough for two bodies to lie comfortably. They yield under your shared weight, an embrace in itself. He couldn’t count the many nights spent sleeping here instead of his bed.

Your thighs are pressed together, body heat seeping through the fabric of his sweatpants. You’ve kept your hands locked together where they rest in your lap. Cautiously, he runs his thumb over your knuckles and finds no discomfort, only happiness at his reciprocation.

“Do you do this a lot?” he blurts, followed by a wince. “I mean—”

“I’ve been doing this for half a year,” you tell him amusedly. “Even so, I don't have many clients. I’m a little picky, and most of them only need a session or two if they’re going through something”.

Picky. That tidbit makes him happier than he thinks it should. “I’m glad I passed your vetting process, then,” he says.

“So am I,” you return. Your body shifts to give him your full attention. Eyes, chest, knees turning. A hand smooths over his wrist again, right to the crook of his elbow. “Your friends told me how hard you’ve been working. I’m happy to do this for you”.

Whatever this will be. Is he supposed to lean into you naturally and wrap his own arms around you? Would it be inappropriate to rest his head on your chest? He glances to your lap, a thread of longing woven through his heart as it flutters. It looks comfortable there. The thought pulls on his fatigue until it covers him like a blanket.

Unbeknownst to him, you have followed his line of sight to the spot where your bodies connect. His posture droops, shoulders falling forward. Your smile softens with realisation. “Shall we start off by having you rest in my lap?”

Shouto blinks away the haze, eyes imperceptibly wider. “Is that alright?”

You hum your assent. The sound is low, melodic, a hint of fondness. A beautiful stranger in his home, so at home; something about that relaxes him.

Shouto is anything but graceful when he flops onto your thighs, body draping along the sofa. He mutters a bashful apology that you wave away with a laugh, steadying his head while you recline into the back cushions.

Your thighs are plush, indelibly soft. They’re yours. You smell a little familiar; it prods unhelpfully at an old memory. A faceless silhouette he passed in the street, maybe an old patient. You must use the same scent, he thinks. That reel of film is soon overwritten with images of you, body curled above him as you reach for the throw draped over the back of the couch.

“Sleep, Shouto,” you murmur. “I’ll wake you when the session is over”.

His drawn out sigh of relief feels warm against your abdomen. The tension lessons with every minute that passes, dwindling into contentment as the rigidity seeps from his bones. Sinew becomes wet sand, heavy in his limbs, the muscles in his face falling slack so that his lips part. The corner of his mouth is wet.

Your fingers thread into his hair. They’re tender at his scalp, nails lightly scratching at the roots, combing front to back. A shiver runs through him when you reach the nape of his neck, curling the soft short strands around your fingertip.

Shouto finds himself fighting sleep despite your instruction. His consciousness wanes, reaching the surface for breath before he’s submerged again. He wanted to be awake for this, just a while longer.

That’s the last thing he recalls before the chime of your alarm. He startled in place and shied away from the noise, tucking himself into your stomach without much thought, realising his actions only as you began to shake with laughter. To a sleep addled Shouto, it might be the most pleasant thing he has ever heard.

“I take it you slept well?” you teased.

Shouto takes in the span of his ceiling. The sun has started to set, shadows stretching across the room. Simultaneously, five minutes and five years had passed in the span of a single nap.

That might be the best he has slept all year. And he concludes, perhaps, his brain-to-mouth filter still has yet to reconnect. Midoriya can answer for it later.

“Would it be unethical of me to book your entire calendar?”

chapter 0 : top-ultra-super-ultra-secret-mission.

no quirk au, mentions of fighting and violence, the yakuza and my very little knowledge of it (msorry yall,,i know about the video games :>..!), gang violence, found family trope my love, crime syndicate boss daughter! reader, badboy bodyguard! katsuki x fem reader, sunshine reader, reader is a sweetheart but a little bratty, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LUVERS TROPE MY STAR, almost polar opposites, you get off on the wrong foot at first so kinndaa enemies to friends, reader has a last name but it will be explained later, original characters, all might is a fictional character, one piece easter egg lol, food n cookies ! katsuki gets recruited into a crime syndicate at eleven years old, but he doesn't do any fightin till a years later !, lemme know if i missed sum (might add more in future chapters !)

katsuki doesn't remember anything besides his own bloody and bruised knuckles.

it's all he remembers and all he's known his entire life. where he comes from you gotta fight to survive and every dispute was resolved with conflict. bloody fists and busted lips was all he grew up with until the age of 11 years old.

the orphanage he'd lived in for years didn't help in reinforcing that point : the place was neglected, faded and crumbling like a mansion in a horror movie. he'd heard so many rumors going around the halls that the place was haunted. none of the adults bothered to shut it down but they didn't bother to take care of them either, so katsuki didn't expect much from them. katsuki wouldn't be able to count the amount of times their caretakers, if you could even call them that, let him and his housemates run off without supervision on both hands and feet. their disinterested eyes occasionally glancing at the poor kid getting ganged up on by kids twice his size and age.

"if you don't pull your weight around here, you're deadmeat." katsuki remembers an older boy, his roommate at the time, saying to him. he hasn't seen the boy in years and katsuki is sure that wherever he fucked off to was miles better than the shithole he currently lives in.

fights weren't uncommon either. petty fights over pudding were often brought to the communal area, ranging from food fights to all out brawls. power struggles between kids where mostly for dominance, to show others who was the boss. it was all for the sake of a survival kids their ages shouldn't have known, one that they shouldn't have been desensitized to.

the disinterest of the staff members meant that the kids could run wild, running amok around the city streets as if they owned them. stealing and fighting, forming groups and alliances only for those who lagged behind to be betrayed and ganged up on by their pack members.

he recognized it whenever people where trying to get something out of him. katsuki knew he was strong and he knew others knew it too and it got him nothing but enemies and wannabe lackey's acting like errand boys in exchange for services. beating up some guy who had owed them money, some people simply wanted to be around him, hearing that his name had gotten notoriety around their neighborhood and simply using him to scare people off, like parents telling their kids about the boogeyman.

it worked out fine whenever they'd stay out of his way, but katsuki was a lone wolf through and through and didn't like people sticking to his heels, so after many more bloody knuckles, the sound of bones crunching and broken noses, people knew not to mess, or associate themselves, with the rage that was katsuki bakugou.

" i heard he beat some guys face in so bad he never left his house again.." "if you look at him for too long, he'll kick your ass !" "that little brat thinks he's the shit just because he beat some shrimp’s ass." he'd heard whispers like these for years. scared fleeting glances and nasty glares was all people offered him and he learned that striking fear into others was the only way you'd be respected. beating people up was the only way others would leave you alone. stealing from others was the only way others wouldn't steal from you.

being a monster was the only way people would listen. and just like how continuing to spread legends kept horror movie creatures alive. other people spreading rumors about how ruthless he was kept katsuki safe.

until that man showed up.

one of their caretakers had announced that someone would be coming to visit, meaning they should be on their best behaviour so they could find a new forever home. katsuki scoffs, the idea that anyone would choose him to bring home was laughable to him. all the grown ups that came by came for the golden boys: the push overs or the crybabies, was what they were called amongst the other kids.

the man that appeared infront of the line of young boys was anything but what katsuki could’ve ever imagined. tall, extremely so, with a long leather jacket draped over his shoulder, rings could be seen adorning his fingers when he cracked his knuckles. he was completely decked out in black : black coat, black pants, black belt and dark, hardened black eyes that had all the boys shivering. unconsciously having them stand up straighter by the heat of the man’s stare alone.

katsuki and his housemates had all gathered around the windows minutes before to see the man arrive in a big black cadillac escalade, peeking the curiosity of everyone in the room as they wondered what the hell this person could want from an orphanage like this one.

katsuki for the first time in years, feels a hint of fear wash over him when the man stops right in front of him. he feels the eyes of his other mates on him as well and feels himself sweating a little when he gulps.

the mysterious man offers him a large, friendly smile and katsuki doesn't know if he should feel threatened by the warmth he feels in his chest. the tall man kneels down until he's at katsuki's height and his deep, honeyed voice catches him off guard, because he thinks such a man shouldn't have such a..welcoming voice. especially with the multiple men he saw surrounding his car outside looking anything but welcoming.

"hey, kid." the man starts, sharp canines on display as he grins "how would you like to come home with me ?"

katsuki, wide eyed and mouth agape, can only think of one response,

"..huh ?"

katsuki's shocked expression has not changed once. not since the grown ups had talked about boring grown up stuff he'd barely tuned into, only hearing the scritching of the pen on the paper when the mysterious badass man had signed the adoption papers.

and now, inside of the big black cadillac escalade surrounded by other huge badass guys, his expression has yet to change, though he’d managed to clamp his mouth shut.

katsuki is currently gripping onto an apple juice box, (frankly he prefers orange but he doesn't think he can form a correct sentence right now) offered to him buy a stoic man--who was introduced to him by another huge man, although not as scary looking as the other one, who told him not to be frightened by his straight-faced friend as he was "a scary lookin' dude, but a big teddybear once you get to know him ! " katsuki hadn't taken a single sip of the juice yet, juice that he didn't steal but was given to. without having to threaten anyone for it. a strange feeling grows in his stomach that he's not familiar with. and in katsuki's experience anything unknown is bad, so he doesn't like this.

the scary men all pulled a complete 180 from what they were like outside, going from being quiet and serious to extremely loud. so loud katsuki wonders how it's possible that four men in one car can be just as loud as an entire communal area at his now old orphanage. the thought of not having to step foot in that cursed building ever again has him holding back a little smile. he squeezes the juice box in his hands a little tighter.

the men who's names he doesn't know yet are cracking jokes. they smack his shoulder randomly, causing him to basically fly forward and he's sure that if he weren't wearing a seatbelt he'd have flewn right through the windshield. they laugh and tell him they're excited to start working with him. this has katsuki tilt his head in question.

" working with you ?" he asks, it's the first thing he's said and the two more expressive men in the car brighten up. one of the guys, who's squeezed next to him speaks. he has bleached hair with black roots still peaking through. his sunglasses are pulling his hair back and perfectly showing off the scar running over his left eyebrow.

"yeah, starting today you're a part of our clan, little buddy !" he grins. their clan ?

the boss man, he assumes, speaks up from the drivers seat " takashi, don't just jump that on him so suddenly," he reprimands jokingly. he looks at katsuki through the rear view mirror and smiles, katsuki simply looks away. he doesn't know how to react to situations, or people like this well. or at all. "you'll frighten him."

katsuki's head shoots up at that, eyes squinted and brows furrowed "i'm not scared of shit !" he exclaims "what do you guys even do ?" he glares around at everyone in the car. it's silent and he sees the ringed hand of the boss guy turn the radio down. then after a beat passes everyone bursts out laughing again and katsuki jumps despite himself, even the stone faced guy cracks a smile.

"you're a fiesty one, huh ?! you're perfect for the job !" the bleached blonde man, who is apparently named takashi, speaks. he wraps an arm around katsuki and doesn't notice how he tenses and growls, that or he ignores it. "you see, we have a very special job."

"what special job ?" takashi responds with a mischievous smirk.

"we beat up bad guys !" he chirps happily.

katsuki can't help the gasp that comes out of his throat nor can he control the sparkle in his eyes, yet he tries his best to sound cool " y-you beat up bad guys ?" he asks carefully.

"u--huuuuuh" he squeezes katsuki between his bicep tighter, apologizing when katsuki punches at his arm, loosening his extremely tight grip. he offers him a little apology that katsuki only graces with a stinkeye. "we find guys who mess with us or our turf, and we fuck 'em up good !" he makes punching motions at the air with his free arm " y'know, like all might !"

" all might isn't real." katsuki shoots back.

"well, yeah. but he's cool isn't he !" the bleached man whines, giving katsuki a slight noogie. he shoves at his arm and looks away with a huff and a pout. unwilling to admit that the tv show superhero had been his idol for years now. takashi chuckles knowingly at the boys pink cheeks before finally releasing him from his grasp.

katsuki suddenly remembers the conversation before he'd trailed off "so..you guys beat up bad guys ?" the young blonde starts "and i'm part of your clan now ?" he eyes everyone curiously and they all offer him firm nods.

"why me, though ?" he hates how..desperate he sounds, it reminds him too much of the other loser crybabies that he used to share a space with. he peers at the rear view mirror only to be met with the boss man's eyes already on him. he jumps despite the warmth in said man's eyes.

"i like you, kid. you've got this look in your eye." he explains, he focuses back on the road once he finishes " makes me think of myself when i was your age."

katsuki sits stunned as the rest of the men in the car start up again calling their boss superficial for "going for someone who reminds him of himself" they say, yet katsuki can't find it in himself to feel insulted. he's been told time and time again the looks he'd give people were rude, cocky, scary and every other adjective in the book, none of them being exactly positive one's.

but for someone to say they like the look in his eye is shocking. the lack of any praise besides about how much of a monster he was when he got into fights was something completely unknown to him.

during the entire ride, katsuki grips his untouched apple juice box to keep from smiling.

when he arrives into a large office like room, following closely behind the boss man, who's name he found out during the car ride was kento matsumoto, he's surprised to find the room empty once the door slammed behind him. katsuki's immediatly on his toes and ready, already in a fighting stance, his eyes zipping around the room ready to attack should any bad guys show up.

"what're you doing ?" the older man hums in amusement, slowly creeping towards his desk in the middle of the room. katsuki's too focused on a surprise attack to bother noticing.

"where are the bad guys ?!" the unruly blonde asks, adrenaline already running through his veins, a smirks growing on his features until matsumoto laughs and--wait why is he laughing ?

"there are no bad guys here, you can rest easy." he chuckles when katsuki's shoulders immediatly drop, a pouty frown etched onto his features. "you won't be fighting any bad guys today," the more he continues the more katsuki's eyebrows drop lower and lower. he finally realises how quite and gentle he's been and tilts his head in confusion. he walks up to his desk chair which is turned away from katsuki's eyes. mr. matsumoto walks up and kneels towards the chair and whispers softly. katsuki can hear someone whisper back if he strains his ears hard enough and his brows furrow harder.

after a bit more back and forth, the tall man stands back up, and limps a little as he has two tiny arms arms dragging along with him. along with two tiny legs following along at his pace.

"i'd actually like you to meet someone today." the man chuckles to himself lightly. he presses his hand to the back of the little person behind him. and katsuki finally makes eye contact with them.

the girl looks about his age, maybe a year younger. she keeps alternating her gaze to him briefly and longer towards the floor. her socked feet rubbing at the other as she grips the taller man's pant leg.

katsuki holds back the urge to scoff. she would've been eaten alive if she spent one day back at his orphanage. pushovers don't survive long before becoming someone's lackey unless they pull their weight. you mutter something under your breath and mr. matsumoto scolds you gently.

"you don't wanna be rude to your new friend don't you ?" he encourages. both of your eyes widen and while a grin breaks out on your face. katsuki's mouth drops in near horror

"huh ?!"

"bakugou, stop moving !"

katsuki doesn't know where that old roommate he had fucked off to, but if it's someplace like this, he feels bad for him.

he'd found out that you were mr. matsumoto's daughter, which was shocking news by itself but you can imagine how much more shocked he was when the older male had asked him to spend time with you.

"i'm not a babysitter !" katsuki stormed "i thought i was fighting bad guys !" mr. matsumoto raises his hands up in surrender from where he's knelt down to diffuse tension.

"you'll start your training soon enough, and then you'll be able to fight as many bad guys as you see fit." he compromises. katsuki's somewhat satisfied, but still crosses his arms across his chest, awaiting further explanation.

"i'm just asking you to keep an eye on her. spend some time with her, stuff like that..you'll be like her bodyguard !" he offers.

"more like babyguard." katsuki scoffs. the older man chuckles nervously.

"my job's real dangerous, so a lot of people wanna hurt me, and my family. i can't have that, you get what i'm sayin' right ?" he speaks sincerely. katsuki's eyes soften the slightest bit as he readjusts his arms. "i want her to be able to spend time with kids her age. not some old guys in suits, you know ?"

katsuki doesn't say but he thinks that reasoning is stupid. he thinks constantly being around men like your dad would be cool as hell, but he digresses. the unruly blonde stares at the pleading man pensively, mr. matsumoto had gotten him out of the wretched orphanage, he owes it to him to atleast help him with this easy sounding request.

katsuki heaves a long, deep sigh and looks down at the ground.

"fine..i'll do it."

he wishes he could punch his past self in the mouth for agreeing to this torture.

he grabs your wrist when you try to sneakily press a tiny flavored lip balm stick to his lips. you pout and whine at him and he growls and furrows his brows at you in response.

"c'mon !" you whine. straining your arm still tightly clutched in his grip to press the lip balm to his pink lips. “it tastes like peaches !” you try.

"no ! i already let you put these shitty braids in my hair, m'not putting your stupid makeup shit on." he throws your arm to the side and you gasp. before crossing your arms,

"swear." you mumble grumply. you shake your head and lean towards him with new found vigor. you’re stubborn and usually he’d at least give you that, but you’re the annoying kind of stubborn, so you’re not getting anything from him.

"it's not makeup, it's just lip balm ! dad let's me put it on him all the time !"

"yeah, well i ain't your dad."

"yeah you're not. cus my dad's not a jerk !" you stick your tongue out at him and katsuki scoffs at you, looking away from you. he bets you wouldn't act all cool if he shoved you once, you look like the type of wimp who'd cry about tripping over your own shoelaces.

"i'll tell my dad you're bein' mean to me." you announce. katsuki's head whips towards you and he feels a vein on his forehead when you turn your nose up at the sky with a 'hmph !". you make his head hurt.

"don't go lying on me !" he fumed.

"but i'm not lyin', you are mean ! i asked you nice an' you won't lemme put the chapstick on you !" you bite back. katsuki inhales through his nose in anger.

"you didn't ask me sh—anything !" he stops himself mid curse, your father doesn't like him swearing around you for some reason and he'd rather you not snitch to your dad about his cursing habits.

you suddenly stop, then roll your eyes like the brat you are. "well, i'm asking now..please ?" you bat your lashes at him and give him, what katsuki assumes, are your best puppy dog eyes.

you're so much more different than when he'd first met you two weeks ago and he definitely doesn't mean it as a good thing. he almost wishes you stayed the quiet, meek little mouse you were. that would've been way less annoying than the bossy bratty princess you are, despite being a few months younger than him.

katsuki groans, loudly to himself, than turns to you again. gripping at his criss crossed legs to control his nerves.

"make it quick, princess." he spits, glaring at your bright smile, obviously pleased you'd won the argument even though you didn't play fair at all. katsuki had won every fight he'd ever been in but you were making yourself out to be his toughest opponent yet. he grits his teeth and sucks his loss in for another day. you make a happy noise and press the sweet stick to his lips. it tastes like peaches when he briefly licks his lips to get a taste. he let’s out a quiet pleased grunt.

"it tastes good, right !"

"shut up."

katsuki looks at you strangely when he sees you sneaking around corners.

he's stuck on babysitting duty again while your dad and the others get to do fun stuff like beating the shit out of people. from what he'd gathered from mr. matsumoto and when he 'accidentally' listened in on his passing conversations with his coworkers, your father was the boss of an underground yakuza organisation. the men he'd sat in the car with being his most trusted companions.

they all bore a similar tattoo’s somewhere on their body : some had them on their arms or hands, others were more showy and had them on their necks or on their backs like your dad did. katsuki was bummed to find out he wouldn’t be able to get one yet, he scoffs at the memory of your dad ruffling his hair and telling him to wait a few more years.

he was dreading having to put up with your whiny tantrums and sticky flavored lip balms, although he guessed it was kinda fun to guess the flavour. but today you surprised him by beckoning him over and telling him you needed his help with something. at 9 in the morning.

“a top-ultra-super-ultra secret-mission ”, you’d called it. and from the moment you’d pushed him out of the huge spare room he was currently using as his bedroom, you’d been sneaking around corners even though katsuki would look ahead (he has to take some risks, he is your bodyguard after all) and see no one there.

the prospect of a secret mission did peak his interest, it was the reason he had followed you without making a fuss. but even though ‘patience’ wasn’t an unknown word in katsuki’s documentary, it wasn’t frequently used. so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he started complaining.

“what are we even doing ? and why the hell are you sneaking around like that?” he asks, the urge to go back to bed still clinging to him as he rubs at his eyes sleepily. katsuki doesn’t know how you can navigate this huge house so well and he feels like he’s been following you through a maze.

you quickly, after peeking around another corner, shush him. “shhh !” you hiss, placing a finger over your lips. if katsuki weren’t so tired he would’ve rolled his eyes at you but he simply decides to narrow his eyes at you.

“i told you, it’s super secret ! i’ll tell you when we get there !” you huff “swear, by the way.” you chide playfully, giggling when he grumbles at you.

if katsuki could compare you to anything, he’d compare you to rubber. it’s weird because it’s an object rather than a living thing, but he thinks it’s pretty fitting. he pokes and prods, throws snarky comments and mean names at you, pulling at you like rubber, yet all you do is snap right back into place. like that rubber man you like on tv ( he prefers the sword guy better).

you pout about his mean spirited ‘princess’ nickname after he tells you he doesn’t mean it as a compliment because to him it means your snobby, bratty and spoiled, but you never let him get you down. often just saying that princesses we’re super pretty “so therefore, you’re just calling me pretty !” you’d grin. he thinks your reasoning is more than stupid and rolled his eyes hard when you’d first told him that, but you intrigue him in ways he doesn’t wanna admit.

you’re so annoying and bubbly it puzzles him, he wonders how someone like you could exist in the same world as his. the world he was raised in was cold and unforgiving, quickly stomping and crushing pretty bright flowers like you under its heel before they were even given a chance to fully bloom.

you’re something he’s never seen before and you piss him off. but that’s mostly because you’re annoying though.

after sneaking around for a bit more, you get to what katsuki recognizes as the kitchen. katsuki hears the sound of chopping and sizzling before he rounds the corner and the smell of food fills his nose and his mouth waters.

you put an arm out to hold him back from rounding the corner and point towards something, katsuki looks up at where your looking to see..

a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.

his eyes widen like he’d just seen a stack of gold. back at the orphanage, they were barely allowed to have any sweets besides during holidays, two for everyone. katsuki didn’t really mind much, since he doesn’t really like candy, but your home chef nakazawa really knew how to cook and katsuki would gobble up anything the man cooked.

the long white haired man never commented on his table manners and messy eating, only smiling brightly and always telling him it made him happy to see people enjoying his food so much.

katsuki would never say it out loud, but he would sometimes sneak around to watch mr. nakazawa cook. he’d never had any time to be interested in..anything back at his old hell hole and it’d taken him a while to admit he’d taken a liking to not only nakazawa’s cooking, but also cooking in general.

he bets those cookies would be fucking delicious. he gulps.

“those are our objective !” you whisper, turning back to him with a determined grin “your job as my bodyguard today is to help me snatch up those chocolate chip cookies mr zawa made.” you explain.

katsuki almost exclaims before begrudgingly remembering this is supposed to be a secret mission and you were supposed to be inconspicuous “huh ?!” he hisses. you nudge him away from the opening and place your finger against your lips to shush him again, katsuki growls at you.

"just cus i'm your bodyguard..or whatever," he grumbles, rolling his eyes "doesn't mean i'm your errand boy. i'm not anybody's errand boy." he spits, glaring at you. you don't look the least bit scared, instead your eyebrows furrow and you pout.

"but you're not my errand boy, we're doing it together ! you're helping me out !"

"i don't help anyone." he shoots back "what am i getting from this anyway ?" he scoffs, shuffling on his feet.

" you don't like sweets, right ? so the least you could do is help me get some cookies !" you declare, crossing your arms." but if you want, i guess i could share the booty with you." you say with a roll of your eyes. katsuki wants to be surprised that you remembered something he’d mumbled to you in passing once but he ignores that to sneer at you, eye twitching at your brattiness.

"gross. don't call it that." he snarks, you roll your eyes again "don't be a baby, bakugou." you quickly flip around and sneak towards the main kitchen doors. bakugou glares at your back as you slip away and throws you one last snarky comment under his breath before following you "you're one to talk."

mr nakazawa’s back is to the both of you still, he seems to not have noticed you both yet. even though katsuki hates being ordered around by you, pointing at where he should go so as not to be seen, he ignores it in favour of the giddy feeling in his chest. you're holding back a laugh too, he can see it on your face and as annoying as you are, he can't help but hold back a snort with you when the cook stops in his movements to scan around the kitchen, you both still going unnoticed.

he hasn't been allowed to go out on missions with your dad and his squad yet, simply undergoing training starting from every wednesday, to going monday through thursday for a few hours and though it was fun, it was pretty irritating seeing the grown ups do all the fun stuff while he's stuck carrying you around on his back and watching dumb disney channel original movies with you (he won't admit he enjoys most of them, though. never.)

but right now that's all been forgotten, adrenaline is pumping through him but it's different than the adrenaline rush he gets from when he beats up some no name kid that wanted to start a fight to prove he was some type of big shot, surrounded by the choruses of cheering kids and screams. instead, he's simply sneaking closer and closer to a tray of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. accompanied only by you, who's covering your mouth trying not to make a single sound so you don't get caught and scolded for getting to the cookies early.

it's different, it's unknown. but katsuki realizes it's not bad.

it actually feels really warm, and nice. and good. it's good to have fun with you. it's good to be able to bicker and playfight with you without it leading to his knuckles being bruised up. he hates to admit it but he has to hold back a snicker at your dumb jokes and antics. and maybe he can admit that some of the movies you pick out are kinda fun.

he doesn't have to fight for the remote with you because you let him pick whenever he wants. you've set up a system where you pick one night and he gets to pick the next night and you hadn't broken your promise, always handing him the remote when it was his turn to pick a movie, though you huff about it sometimes, but that's cus you're a brat.

but when katsuki finally reaches the tray of cookies and you silently cheer for him with a smile so bright you could rival the sun itself and two thumbs up in the air, katsuki has to admit you're not so bad to be around.

"may i ask what you kids are doin' ?"

both you and katsuki stiffen at mr. nakazawa looming over him, he doesn't look the least bit angry. he's trying to, but he can't fight off the smile on his mock dissapointed face.

"mr. bakugou is a newcomer, so i can't really be mad at 'im" he starts, katsuki gulps when the white haired man's frosty blue eyes land on him, then zero on you "but lady yn should already know what happens to misbehaving children.." he slowly stretches his arms out towards you, making a grabby motion and you start uncontrollably giggling, eyes widening as you slowly stand up and back away.

"they go...into the oven !!"

"mission complete, cookies obtained, get outta there !" you exclaim, hightailing it with your laughter trailing down the hallway. katsuki starts up and dashes for the door to follow you. mr. nakazawa barely makes any effort to catch both of you and katsuki knows he's stopped following you but he doesn't bother telling you about it.

he's having too much fun right now.

he's holding the tray of cooled off cookies to his chest to keep them safe and he can't stop laughing especially because you're basically hollering next to him, cheering loudly and katsuki mimicks you. it's probably still around nine in the morning and you're running around like headless chickens, screaming around the hallways, but katsuki's having too much fun with you to care.

you get to your bedroom door first and katsuki would usually blame it on your hands being free, but he doesn't care about being first right now. you quickly wave your hand around, signaling for him to run inside before you slam your door shut and fall to the ground, helplessly snorting and giggling with your fluffy pyjama pant legs kicking in the air.

katsuki sits down next to you, placing the cookies down between you both slightly above your head. he's calmed down more than you have, but he's still buzzing, chest rising and falling. he snorts and giggles some more looking at you and after you finally calm down you sigh. you take a deep breath before looking up at him with stars in your eyes.

"that was so fun ! we booked it outta there so fast !" you giggle. katsuki sits more comfortable, cross-crossing his legs. he hums in response "mr. nakazawa always says he's gonna put me in the oven when i sneak a cookie, but he's super nice, so i knew he wouldn't do anything if he caught you !"

katsuki scoffs pridefully, turning his nose up in the air "he wouldn't have been able to do anythin' cus i woulda kicked his ass !" he smirks. you giggle in response.

"that's expected of my bodyguard !" you chirp. he rolls his eyes but doesn't complain. you sit up and look at him all starry eyed and katsuki's eyes widen in turn.

"you were awesome, bakugou ! no wonder dad likes you so much !" you beam. it's too bright, you're too bright. katsuki wants to look away, wants to go back into his shell and pull the curtain shut on the sun that you are. he wants to be scary and feared by all and yet for some reason he likes that you're not scared of him. he wants it to stay that way. he knows he shouldn't and yet,

"..you can just call me, katsuki. i don't mind.." he mutters, looking away from you and towards the wall. he doesn't dare look at you or he'll have to acknowledge your expression, acknowledge the fact his face is burning alarmingly hard and fast. "i don't care..if you do." he rephrases.

a beat passes and he feels the cold metal of the tray against his hand, he looks down to see your hand pushing the cookies towards him.

"since you did the most work, you can have the first one." you say shyly, fiddling with your soft sleeves.

katsuki feels his heart beating and thumping hard in his chest. he can faintly hear it in his ears, can feel it softly bumping in his head. he's never felt this before.

he doesn't like the unknown. but he can't find it in himself to care when he reaches out and takes a big bite of a cookie. it tastes heavenly and his eyelashes flutter as he munches away, his eyes snap open when he hears you giggle.

"s'good, right ?" you grin, leaning towards him to grab a cookie before popping a piece into your mouth with a hum. katsuki gulps a bite of his cookie down.

"mm.." he hums in agreement. that's enough for you, so you lean back more comfortably and you both continue silently munching away at the slowly dwindling tray of cookies. until you speak up again.

"usually i eat all of mr. nakazawa's cookies on my own. dad and my other uncles are always gone before i can share with them." you explain, katsuki sees your puppy eyes shining with sadness. they're the same as the pushover's at his old orphanage who'd cower in corners and cry as the bigger predators of the institution prey on them.

"they're really good.." the happy tone in your voice is gone and is instead replaced by a more bittersweet one. "but whenever i eat too many, my stomach hurts. and that's not fun at all." katsuki feels his chest tighten at your words, and it tightens harder when you look up at him and send him the sincerest smile he's ever seen.

"but today, i ate a lot of 'em and i'm completely fine, cus i shared them with you !"

katsuki only remembers the feeling of fighting. of bloody and bruised knuckles and the rush of adrenaline that eventually fades away and all he feels is the stinging pain in his body. and that's not fun at all.

but sitting here with you, he hopes and he hopes with all his might that the way he feels when his chest blooms with warmth never fades away.

"yeah..." is all he says, looking down at the ground. tugging at the carpet.

"y'know, you're my fifth bodyguard." katsuki's eyes widen "fifth ?" he parrots and you nod, stuffing the last bit of your cookie into your mouth.

"why so many ? you go out on missions or something ?"

you shake your head "no, but dad says it's safer because a lot of people could wanna hurt me." you say simply, wrapping your arms around your knees, wiggling your socked feet " 'i wouldn't let anyone hurt you, but you can never be too careful.'" you mimick, deepening your voice best you can to copy your father's tone.

"all my other bodyguards were super old, and they never talked, or played with me. no fun at all." you mutter bitterly, grounding your heel down against your soft carpeted floor.

"you're kinda mean, and very aggressive. especially for someone your age." katsuki scoffs at your doctor like tone like you'd just done an analysis on him. he kicks at your foot with his and you giggle and stick yout tongue out at him. katsuki wants to hold back the smirk growing on his face, but he can't. maybe because he isn't trying very hard to hold back at all.

"but you're funny..and you can be really nice when you wanna be." he hears it again, the thumping and beating of his heart at your words and your smile. "you're definitely my favorite bodyguard, katsuki !"

the thumping of his heart gets so loud he can feel it in the tips of his fingers, rhythmically beating away. he gets that feeling of adrenaline from when he wins a fight. when he's got a nasty bloody nose but people are inching away from him. whispers of his name and strenght all around and he feels like he's on top of the world for a while.

but this feels nicer. it's foreign, but katsuki feels like he can get used to that.

"'f course i am, i'm the best !" he exclaims. the warmth in his chest still present and burning harder when you smile at him brightly with a giggle.

katsuki unfamiliar with these kinds of burning feelings that aren’t accompanied with pain. they’re unknown and foreign, but he thinks he likes them. and, maybe, he can admit that he thinks he likes you a little bit, too.

soooowww...whatre we thinkiiinnnn..personally i like this alot and would love to hear whatyallthinkaboutthisconcepttttquestionmark... i was inspired to post this after getting back into akabane honeko no bodyguard, and my love for delinquents mix in some childhoodfriends to lovers and i HAD to write this, i rlly like this and i hope yall enjoy !!