Latest Posts by 0ceansnymph - Page 2

jsyk, the nefarious anglerfish is a meme about a funny cat, it has very little to do with actual anglerfish 😅

This is why people say I live under a rock ;-; but my point still stands

The only reason I get absolutely batshit scared of them is because of how they mate. The male BITES the female and doesn't let go until they FUSE which leads to the female ABSORBING the male. THEY LITERALLY BECOME ONE IN THE MOST OBSCENE WAY WTH HOW DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH MATING GODDAMM ITS WORSE THAN HOW PRAYING MANTIS'S MATE

what makes the anglerfish so nefarious? how do you know his heart? is it because he looks a little different from you and me? is it because you think he looks strange?

"u look tired" dawg i'm going insane

THIS IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN

A desperate cleric slamming every healing spell so hard to bring someone back to life the ground is forced to grow plants and flowers around the body.

romances where men are stupid for their woman are so important to me

Based on “ the space between a rock and a hard place” by Alienu on ao3 you can read here, it’s so GOOD!

Now, I know it’s pretty messy and I barely cleaned it up like I should have but on one hand (I’m sick and feel very tired and lazy) and on the other hand I thought it would be an interesting way to convey that Mac is just NOT OK. give it a read!

I saw a tiktok talking about the massive shortage of feminine hygiene products in Gaza.

The only charity right now that seems to be helping with this shortage is called Motherbeing

Motherbeing is an organization based on education and providing assistance in healthcare for Arab women.

They recently donated 200,000 sanitary pads as women have been taking dangerous measures to delay their periods out of fear of toxic shock syndrome.

In case you are unaware, toxic shock syndrome is a possibly life threatening infections that develops from wearing a feminine hygiene product, usually tampons or cups, for too long.

They currently don’t have donations open, but people are trying to get them to. There’s products you can buy from their website, however.

This will get like three notes, but I just came across it and I wanted to post something. When something as serious as genocide happens, people forget little things like pads and tampons, which actually can be life threatening.

If you want to donate to charities similar to this one, here’s a few I found:

-Helping Women Period: provides pads and tampons to women (and people with uteruses) who are low income or homeless.

-The Pad Project: supplies low income women with pads all over the world.

-She Supply: provides pads and tampons for homeless women in Texas

-Free the Tampon: organization working towards making sanitary products free

-The Period Panty Project: takes physical donations of sanitary products as well as just donations for women in Ohio.

-Days for Girls: donated reusable pads to women all over the world.

There’s a lot more. This isn’t going to get notes lmao

in light of a four day ceasefire in Gaza being agreed upon, i am once again asking you all not to lose sight of the big picture. Biden and the Israeli Government are trying to frame this as a major democratic victory and as a favor respectively. they have no intention of a total ceasefire. they have no intention of stopping their genocide. remember - a ceasefire is the very first step. it’s not even the bare minimum.

the absolute bare minimum in this situation is 1) a complete ceasefire and immediate humanitarian aid in Gaza, 2) complete halt of all military foreign aid to the Israeli government, 3) the Israeli government being prosecuted for its war crimes in the International Criminal Court, and 4) land back and reparations for the Palestinian people. free Palestine means free Palestine, not just temporarily stop carpet bombing Palestine.

a temporary ceasefire is something, but it’s not even close to the end goal. we cannot let up pressure when things seem to be looking up. keep protesting, boycotting, spreading awareness, contacting politicians, etcetera. keep your eyes on Gaza. free Palestine.

can u do a Macaque x F!Reader where they're watching the moonrise..

Macaque Watching the Moonrise With S/O

(Not proofread as it is very late and i want to get to sleep -w-)

A knock on your window interrupted your wandering thoughts as you stared at the ceiling fan of your bedroom.

You sat up to see your boyfriend Macaque standing on your apartment balcony, grinning at you as he continued to knock on the thick glass.

Smiling as you rolled your eyes at him, you got up out of bed and slid the doors open to greet him. 

“I heard you the first time Macaque.” You laughed softly as he greeted you with a small peck on the lips. 

“Just wanted to make sure sweet cheeks, don’t want you falling asleep just yet.”

You tilted your head at his words, you didn’t have anything planned tonight with anybody, especially him.

“Before you say anything, no you didn’t forget we had a date. This is merely me surprising you.” He smirked as he winked down at you, his tail softly swaying behind you as he grabbed you gently by your wrist and one of the thin blankets on your bed in the other hand.

Suddenly, you fell through the floor through the shadows. A yelp was caught in your throat as you felt the pool of violet consume you, the freezing air hitting your skin as you traveled through the darkness. 

You suddenly rose from the shadows onto the floor of your apartment’s rooftop, a shudder running through your body as you were met with the cool fall breeze.

You were never gonna get used to that.

“You okay sugarplum?” The demon looked at you with a slightly worried expression as you smiled and nodded, Macaque always asked if you were okay after you used the shadows to reach your destination.

He gently held your hands as you both sat down on the cold concrete of the roof, “Good, good.”

He noticed your shivering form. “Oh, here, this’ll warm you up.”

He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, letting you snuggle into the fluffy material.

He chuckled softly as you enveloped yourself, raising an eyebrow at you as he let his thought slip past his lips “Cute.”

His face flushed red, did he just say that out loud…?

“I am cute aren’t I?” You stuck your tongue out at him, deciding to play along with his accidental flirt.

“Yeah yeah, Miss Humble. You’re cute alright.” He said the first part in a sarcastic tone, rubbing his nose against yours.

As he slowly pulled away from you, you held the blanket out to him, offering the space next to you. 

“I don’t want you being cold either, I’m like a heater right now.” A smile spread across your face as he chuckled once more, his fur was keeping him far beyond warm but he sure as hell used this as an excuse to cuddle up next to you. 

He shifted closer to you as you wrapped the blanket around the both of you, letting out a laugh as he felt your scorching body heat.

“Jeez, you weren’t joking about the heater thing sugarplum…” 

You laughed back as you rested your head on his shoulder, his head rested on top of yours.

You stayed like this for a few long minutes as he pressed loving but gentle kisses on your head, his arm loosely wrapped around you as the sun started to set. 

You realized he hadn’t actually told you what you were doing up here, finally asking him the long-awaited question. 

“Oh, I just wanted to watch the moonrise together. It’s a full moon tonight and I figured that would be a romantic thing, right?”

You smiled once more as you nodded against his shoulder, your soft comfortable breaths were music to his six ears. 

He loved how you could be so comfortable around him, that was a sure-tale sign you trusted him, and that meant the world to him.

His tail wrapped around your waist as his arm rested atop your shoulder, never wanting to let go of your pretty figure for the rest of time. 

You two were just waiting for the moon to come out as you talked about random things that came across your minds, ranging from things that happened at your work or what MK and his friends were up to this week.

“He ended up being a whole three hours late with my order, and when he gave it to me it ended up being the wrong order…” You sighed as you thought about the recent experience with Pigsy’s Noodles.

“Eh, doesn’t surprise me. I’ve heard worse stories from the kid himself. You honestly got lucky hon.” The simian chuckled thinking of the monkey king’s successor and all the horror stories of his past deliveries he happened to hear. 

Your conversation was interrupted as the ivory glow of the moonlight lit up the tops of the buildings in Megapolis, the lunar glow eventually hitting the both of you as it glowed against your skin.

The stars danced around the massive rock as they were set up in sporadic patterns, although this wasn't your first time watching the moonrise it certainly was the most special.

Macaque, however unlike you, wasn’t looking up at the sky at all. He saw skies like this thousands of times throughout his long years of life.

His golden orbs were fixated on you the whole time, the way your eyes practically lit up when you stared up at the night sky.

The quiver of your lip as you took in the beauty before you, however to him you were the only beauty before him. 

You noticed he was staring at you this whole time, making you smile and laugh softly.

“What is it?”

He chuckled back once more as he kissed you on your lips, gently pulling away as he smirked “Just admiring the view.”

I also. really. like Caine.

PLSSS I BEG OF U I JUST NEED SOMEONE LIKE THIS FOR MY CUPIO ASS PLS FOR THE LOVE OF CHEESE PHONES

one thing i refuse to do is write a man who is normal about his partner. he must be frothing at the mouth, hissing at anyone who approaches them like a rabid raccoon, daydreaming about them 24/7 or what's the point?

there is none. go feral or go home

Yes girls supporting girls

sometimes I randomly think about the time a girl posted in this girls only Facebook group I’m in telling everyone how she broke up with her boyfriend and he lied saying that he lost the spare key she gave him, only to then break into her apartment when she wasn’t home and steal the cat they’d adopted while they were together, but then he denied having done this and she didn’t really have proof that he took the cat since he wouldn’t let her come into his place and look for it. And then another girl saw this post and knew her ex-boyfriend, and she was like “girl. I used to hook up with your mans back in xxxx and I still have his number. If you want, I’ll hit him up and get him to invite me back to his place and see if your cat’s there.” And the OP was like “bet.”

So this woman hit up homie dog, asked him out for drinks, went home with him, slept with him, and then woke up in the middle of the night and TOOK THE CAT. Like she had only said that she would confirm if the cat was there but then she took it upon herself to steal this woman’s cat back. Like she full on Trojan horsed this man and then hit up homegirl like “I got the goods. Where you wanna meet.” And then the two of them posted a photo of them together with the cat to the group.

And I just think women supporting women is so beautiful.

My god if I didnt have a shit computer then I would have installed him in a heartbeat

LMK MACAQUE DESKTOP GHOST/UKAGAKA

Get yourself a devious monkey for your computer screen to interact with!! 🐒💜(#ghost macaque) (last update 19.05.2023 - the launch!)

⚠!!SPOILERS for Lego Monkie Kid first 4 seasons!!⚠

Made in one week for Ghost Jam 2023, hosted by @ukagakadreamteam, Macaque doesn't include a lot of features or dialogue... but he's still very pettable!

Ask him how he's doing every time you boot him up!

PET HIS HEAD

Befriend him and unlock more dialogue

Includes a look with six ears! (right click on him -> change shell -> six eared macaque ✨)

Have him do small stuff like change your computer background or empty your recycle bin

🐒INSTALL HIM!🐒

⏩DOWNLOAD HIM HERE! ⏪

The link above should bring you to the website with step-by-step instructions on how you can install this guy on your PC!

⚠!!BE AWARE, THIS IS LOADED WITH MY HEADCANONS!! SOME THINGS MIGHT SEEM OOC!!⚠

✨I have a question/encountered a bug/encountered a spelling mistake!✨

Message me away! If you think something is wonky, a weird expression or bad grammar, please @ me, send me an ask or dm me 🙏 This also goes for the suggestions you may have or the things you like about Macaque here and want to share with me, my ask box and suggestions are open!! It's been done in a week so no wonder I missed a lot of stuff, so I appreciate all of the feedback you may have 💖

✨Thanks and inspirations✨

Huge thanks to @rainbowmoonmaiden86 for testing some stuff for me 🙏

And huge thanks to @/zarla-s for a fantastic tutorial with a great template for Ghost creation, \if you're interested in learning more you should definitely check it out!

And thanks to @ukagakadreamteam for making the event, and being huge help with the ghost making and being patient with my dumb butt 🙏💖 The community is so welcoming it warms my heart, and I'm happy to be a participant in a project like this!

✨Thank you for reading!!✨

My love for pink and cats combined ♡

kitten stimboard!! 🐾 ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Yes yes yes

admit it

synopsis. loving him from afar was enough. at least, it should’ve been enough. until it wasn’t. (or, in which you subtly take care of your ex, bakugou katsuki, who also happens to be the namesake of the agency you’re working at)

cw. fem!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~24 yrs old)

word count. 5.0k words

Being the HR Department Head of the Ground Riot agency, you’ve learned to take care of Pro Hero Dynamight in subtle ways.

Primarily because even though he isn’t technically your direct superior—he rarely dabbled in admin work as compared to his co-founder Kirishima Eijirou—you didn’t want to stir up drama or reports on inappropriate workplace relationships.

Especially as the head of the Human Relations department.

But that’s not the only reason.

It’s also because—well, he’s your ex.

The ex who you never really understood in terms of how he became that.

“You know, we really need to redecorate this place.”

Mikuri, your colleague from the PR department, muses as she scans the breakroom from her spot on the L-shaped sofa.

You place the black coffee pods you picked up on your way home yesterday near the coffee machine, “Tell that to Finance. The breakroom decor is probably the least of their worries.”

She merely sighs in response as she reverts her attention to her phone.

“You do know that doom scrolling during your break isn’t exactly resting, right?”

At that, she pouts but doesn’t look up. “I hear you, Ms. HR.”

You playfully roll your eyes at the nickname.

“Stocking up on coffee during one’s break isn’t exactly resting, either.”

At her mention of the beverage, your eyes drift back to the pods you have in your hands. You found that they ran out before your shift ended the day prior and were quick to buy refills.

“What are you doing with that flavor, anyway?” she finally lifts her head to regard you, pocketing her phone as she stands up. You look up at the wall clock—break time’s almost over. “Didn’t you dislike that?”

You smile to yourself, fiddling with capsules. Mikuri was right—you didn’t really like this flavor.

But Katsuki did.

And he still does, you think.

“Y/N!”

You whip your head around to see the owner of the familiar voice—Kirishima, decked out in his hero gear, looking like he’s about to head out for patrol.

“Hey! What’s up, Ei?”

He grins, head sticking through the slightly ajar sliding door, “I’m good! ‘s a good thing I ran into you—Bakugou got called out on an emergency mission.”

He nods at Mikuri in greeting, smile still adorning his face, before shifting his gaze back at you. “Looks like it’s still gonna be me and you during the final screening later.”

His eyes dart toward the coffee machine and the freshly stocked pods. Your hips shuffle in front of it before your brain could even catch up.

“Great, see you then!”

With that, Kirishima flashes you a final grin before easing out of the door and heading toward the elevators.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Final screening?” Mikuri whisper-shouts the second Kirishima’s out of sight.

You sigh, collecting the packaging and shoving it into the trash bin. “Sidekicks. He finally got Bakugou to say yes to getting one.”

“Oof, good luck with that.”

“Personally, I think it boils down to these two.”

You thrust forward the two sets of files in front of you, eyeing everyone seated at the oval-shaped meeting table.

“I agree,” your HR subordinate chimes in from the far end of the table.

“I vote for web dude,” another adds. “He’s so much like Bakugou personality-wise. They’d have to click.”

The recruitment head shakes her head, “Yeah, but his quirk doesn’t complement Bakugou’s explosion as much as the girl’s water jet.”

“I know, Yamakawa-san. But did you even see her? She’s so timid, I’ll bet you 5,000 yen that she’ll quit on day 1 of Bakugou shouting at her.”

Murmurs of agreement course through the room, but you’re not paying attention to what they’re whispering to each other.

“I doubt he’ll want someone so similar to him,” you mumble to yourself.

Apparently, you say it loud enough because everyone looks at you in confusion.

Shit.

“I mean, imagine how much of a PR and HR nightmare that will be,” you joke, although it comes out a bit stilted. Fortunately, they, including Kirishima who is seated at your right and at one end of the table, chuckle at your wisecrack.

“Are you voting for the girl, then?” the recruitment head inquires once the laughter dies down.

“Well…” you pause, “I agree that Moriyama-san is remarkably meek and timid, but just from her series of interviews, let alone her practical test, I could see she liked a good challenge.”

You tap her portrait, “Beyond just being a good match for Bakugou’s quirk, she’ll surely step up. And I know for a fact that if there’s anyone who can guarantee that, it’s Katsuki.”

At that, some eyes widen, and you can’t help but tilt your head in confusion at the perplexed looks they’re giving you.

“I mean, Bakugou!” you backtrack, finally realizing your mistake.

Desperate to change the subject, you direct your attention toward Kirishima. “What do you think, Kirishima-san?”

He passes you a knowing smile, one that is too unnerving for your liking, before leaning back on his chair.

“I think you’re right.”

You allow yourself to do some internal chastising the minute the meeting is adjourned.

Hiding your complicated feelings for Bakugou was easy—mainly because you rarely saw him around.

But hiding how much you knew about him?

That’s a whole different story.

“Good work, Y/N,” Kirishima pats you on the shoulder as the rest of your recruitment crew pile to exit the room.

You flash him a thankful smile before hopping on your feet and gathering your documents. “I’m trying not to make you regret hiring me, boss.”

He chuckles good-naturedly before looking away in what you think is reluctance.

“What is it?” you prod, feeling a sense of uneasiness crawl through your spine.

He seems to hesitate before continuing, “I was just gonna say—you always know what’s best for Bakugou.”

At that, your expression falters, and you feel your shoulders tensing at the mention of Bakugou’s name. You refuse to let your hurt (or whatever the fuck it is you’re feeling) show on your face, though.

Instead, you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. “I just want the best for my bosses.”

Kirishima doesn’t say anything after that, but you can tell the gears are running in his brain. He simply nods in acknowledgment of your response before heading for the door himself, and you follow suit.

You’re at the doorway, stifling a tired yawn when you lock eyes with the man of the hour himself.

“Bakubro!” Kirishima exclaims in greeting. He encases Bakugou in a bro hug, which the latter begrudgingly accepts. “You got the mission done and over with?”

Bakugou, in all of his costume-decked glory, eyes the redhead and scoffs, “Obviously.”

His eyes flicker to yours. You nod at each other in lieu of a verbal greeting.

“You just missed the meeting,” Kirishima starts, vaguely aware of the palpable tension between the two of you. “We found’em—your first-ever sidekick!”

You almost want to laugh at how Bakugou doesn’t match Kirishima’s energy.

He simply grunts in response.

But Kirishima’s not the type to give up so easily. Instead, he adds: “Y/N made the final decision.”

You stiffen at the mention of your name, Bakugou’s eyes shifting toward you at the same time. You brace yourself for a snarky retort or a lame insult, but nothing comes.

Instead, he merely gives you a firm nod.

“Thanks.”

At that, he makes his way to his corner office.

You were only reminded that your HR personnel was still around when murmurs erupted in Bakugou’s wake.

“Just like that?”

“Wait, he’s in?”

“Wow, never thought he was capable of saying thank you.”

“Yeah, all I get is a halfhearted eye roll.”

The last comment would’ve made you snort if you weren’t too dazed by how uncharacteristic that was of Bakugou. You stand there for what feels like minutes as the others around you start toward their respective offices.

Finally snapping out of the trance the second you realized you were alone in the hallway, you head toward your own office, renewed with the resolve to take your mind off of one Bakugou Katsuki.

You had just the thing to keep yourself busy.

The monthly HR-hosted game night of Ground Zero agency is the one HR activity everyone actually looked forward to.

It’s the one time of the month employees get to let loose during weekdays and bond with colleagues, as well as enjoy free food and drinks, including the occasional booze.

It is also a pain in the ass to organize.

As the HR department head, you technically served as the project head, too, overseeing all of the subcommittees—from programs to logistics—on top of your everyday workload.

Suffice to say, the week before game nights never fails to whoop you in the ass with crushing responsibilities (and for the record, you’re not overreacting—you take your HR events very seriously) but you dare say that the outcomes and seeing everyone enjoy themselves always make it worth it.

For this month, in the spirit of encouraging employee engagement in your department, you let the Recruitment and Selection subdepartment be in charge of the program’s game proper.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have.

Because now your very own HR members are dragging everyone to answer very personal truth-or-dare questions.

And ‘everyone’ happened to include Bakugou Katsuki.

“Bakugou-san!” an employee from the engineering department regards said man, who, by some miracle, has let himself be forced into playing.

Having chosen the ‘truth’ option, he is now seated on the mini-stage you happened to help set up earlier that afternoon.

One of your subordinates hands the support items engineer a microphone. The latter taps the mic before resuming, glee evident in her voice. “How many people have you dated?”

Cheers go off from all around the room at the question, and you shoot a withering glare at your assigned subdepartment members. One catches your eye and visibly cringes.

But goes on pretending they didn’t see you.

Fucking hell.

Grabbing yourself a microphone from the sound booth, you speak into it, trying not to freak out over the fact that this will very much be the first time you’ll verbally address Bakugou in two years.

“Apologies, Bakugou-san,” you start, “You don’t have to answer that.”

Everyone looks at you in bewilderment, including Bakugou who himself looks puzzled.

You take the lull that has befallen upon the room as a sign to continue.

“Such questions are deemed inappropriate as per HR standards. I’m going to have to speak with my subordinates after this.”

You expected uneasy silence as a response, but you sure as hell didn’t anticipate the plethora of jeers that erupt in the room, some even exclaiming exasperated ‘come on’s’.

You’re about to insist (as calmly as you can, that is) when a low, gruff voice crackles from the speakers.

“‘s fine. I’ll answer the fucking question.”

The room goes entirely still. You hold your breath.

He heaves a sigh, and you could’ve sworn his gaze flickered to you for a moment before he looks away.

“Just one.”

Oohs and aahs get passed around, and despite yourself, you feel a shot of relief course through your veins at the implication of Bakugou’s answer.

He hasn’t dated since you.

“Are you guys still together?” a male employee shouts from the other end of the room, and you can’t help the rush of blood toward your cheeks at the question.

You need to put your foot down, now.

“Okay,” you interject, “that’s enou–”

“No. We broke up two years ago.”

Your head whips toward Bakugou’s direction, shocked at his ready admission. The reprimanding words that you were about to spit out die in your throat.

“You plan on seeing anyone anytime soon?” another employee asks from the other far corner.

You’re about to pipe up in protest—distressed over the inappropriate questions, as the HR head or ex-girlfriend, you don’t know—when Kirishima stands up and barks out a good-natured laugh.

“I think that’s enough prodding, you guys.” His eyes flicker to Bakugou’s and then yours in a split second, face etched with concern, before he turns back his attention to the crowd, a toothy grin having replaced his previous expression.

You didn’t realize how tense your muscles have gotten until Kirishima stepped in to intervene, and at that, you slowly let out a big exhale through your nose.

God fucking no. The last thing you need is for your co-workers to find out that the HR head, of all people, is their boss’s ex.

Before you can even spiral further, though, you feel a hand clap your upper back. You twist to find Kirishima, who is, weirdly enough, beaming with excitement.

“We actually have something special planned for a special someone today.”

And as if on cue, the rest of your HR department enters the room, with your secretary carrying your favorite cake and the others holding balloons and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

You don’t remember telling anyone about your favorites except for one person.

Confused, you turn towards Kirishima. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” he mimics, amused at your confusion and the employees who hear laugh. “It’s your one-year anniversary in the agency!”

You could only gape in shock as the people around you, the ones you, over time, grew to identify as family, crowd you and urge you to blow out the candle and accept the flowers.

Still disoriented, you do what they tell you, and they cheer in response as you do so.

With all the busyness that came with the search for sidekicks and the monthly HR game night, you completely forgot about the significance of today’s date.

Overwhelmed by the sentiments and the sea of people surrounding you, you don’t know where to look or mouth a thank you.

Somehow, your gaze finds Bakugou’s—only to see him already looking at you from behind the crowd.

You’re about to look away, unable to sustain his piercing gaze, when he flashes you a small smile.

None of those smirks or mischievous grins he usually sports around other people.

No, this one was different.

Because this was the kind of smile he’d reserved especially for private moments with you.

Before you can give it a second thought, you find yourself smiling back.

“You really couldn’t be bothered to change into normal clothes before coming here?”

You, as inconspicuously as you can, look around the café you’re currently in, wary of paparazzi or anyone else that could recognize Pro Hero Pinky. The last thing you needed was a picture of you (the lucky civilian), haggard after a long day of work, all over Twitter.

“Nah,” she shrugs, “patrol was completely uneventful anyway. I’ll shower when I get home.”

You reach for your iced drink, mumbling under your breath, “I wasn’t worried about you…”

“Hey!” she pouts, “Is that how you treat a friend who’s done you a major favor?”

Your eye twitches at the mention of a favor.

These things never end well with Mina.

“Mina…” you groan, “what did you do?”

She rubs her neck sheepishly. “I kind of promised one of my colleagues that you’d go on a blind date with him.”

“What the fuck?”

She grabs your hand over the table that sits between the two of you. “He’s a real catch, I promise you. Tall, handsome, and a crazy smart support items engineer.”

You frantically shake your head, yanking your hand from her. “Idiot, I’m not worried about your ‘candidate’. Who the fuck said I wanted to go on a blind date?”

Mina whines and thrashes in her seat in response, maybe in an attempt to make you feel sorry and just go along with her antics.

You refuse to do so.

After a few minutes of an incredulous stare-off, she finally deflates in defeat.

“I just thought I could help you out and get you out of your shell. You haven’t dated anyone since…” she trails off, and looks away awkwardly, “you know.”

You chuckle despite yourself, albeit quite solemnly.

Until now, it still makes you feel guilty how the rest of your friend group is forced to deal with the aftermath of your unsuccessful relationship with Bakugou.

“You can say his name, you know. He’s not Voldemort.”

Mina rolls her eyes at that, but you can tell it’s playful more than anything else.

You look down at your now clasped hands. “I appreciate the help, you know that.”

She nods vigorously, and you almost laugh at how much of a textbook-active listener she is.

“But?”

You sigh, “I just can’t right now. If I end up dating someone, word will eventually get around in the office and I just…”

You lock eyes with Mina, whose eyebrows are raised in anticipation.

“I don’t want to make things awkward between Bakugou and me, especially now that I’m working in his agency.”

A few moments of silence pass before Mina speaks up, slunk against her chair.

“Man, you’re the world’s best ex-girlfriend, you know that?”

You snort, “Thanks.”

She sighs in exasperation, “I mean, even if you guys had the most ambiguous breakup ever, you still are extremely considerate about him.”

You’re not, by any means, in the mood or headspace to explore why that is, so you go for the safest answer possible.

“What can I say,” leaning back into your chair yourself, feigning nonchalance, “I’m just an incredibly good person.”

Mina doesn’t even bat an eye at your quip, “Yeah, yeah. Why did you guys break up, anyway?”

“Woah,” you lean back, aghast, “it’s,” you flick your wrist to check the time on your watch, “5:17 PM, Mina. And I doubt this café even serves a beer.”

You’re deflecting, and Mina has known you long enough to be aware of that.

She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms across her chest. “Don’t you think I’m owed a little bit of information? I’m the one who set you guys up.”

“Actually, that was Kirishi–.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she interjects, “I helped.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. She waves it off.

“Point is, I was there when this budding relationship started, and I’m here to know the deets about how it ended.”

You shake your head in resignation, “You sure you don’t want to say you’re just nosy?”

She grins at you, “Nope!”

“So you’re telling me he got too busy and neglectful, you ended up asking for a break, and you’ve never talked to each other since?”

“Yep. That’s what I just said.”

Out of the blue, she hops onto her feet, and in doing so knocks stuff around on the table.

A glass of water almost spills.

“Mina?” you seethe, “Sit the fuck back down. People are gonna stare.”

“Bitch, I have pink skin. They’ve been staring since we entered the room,” she snaps, “And don’t even think about changing the subject.”

“I’m not! Just sit back down.”

She obliges, but she’s still visibly riled up, “I knew your breakup was vague, but not this vague!”

“I don’t know either, okay!” you put your hands up, exasperated. “A month into it he got Kirishima to get his things from my apartment, and so I just assumed he wanted to break up.”

Her eyes are filled with bewilderment, “And your asking me to get your things from his apartment?”

“I…” you hesitate, “I asked you immediately the day after.”

At that, she huffs in surrender, sinking back into her chair. “And you’re supposed to be an expert at conflict resolution.”

“Hey,” you throw a used tissue at her, which she expertly dodges, “That’s for the workplace setting. Romantic relationships are a whole other thing.”

She scoffs, fiddling with the piece of paper containing the café’s WiFi password. “And then, what? You took a gap year to find yourself?”

You roll your eyes for the nth time, reaching forward to take back the tissue you threw at her.

“Don’t make it sound like that. I just took a gap year after graduating to rest and figure out what I wanted to do. I was just lucky enough to have been recruited by Kirishima even if I had zero work experience by the time I came back.”

Mina eyes you, “Even if it meant technically having Bakugou as your boss?”

You look down at the piece of tissue in your hands.

“Even if it meant actually having Bakugou as my boss.”

Mina doesn’t say anything after that, only reaching for her cup of decaf coffee. You follow suit, taking a sip from your now-diluted drink.

You look up at her to see that she’s thinking hard about something.

In spite of yourself, you feel the familiar feeling of dread rising in your throat.

“...You’re not gonna tell him about this conversation, are you?”

“Who, Katsuki?” she asks and you gingerly nod. “Of course not!”

You hold eye contact for a while longer before looking away with a big sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

Three knocks echo through the hallway, as well as Kirishima’s expansive, corner office. Hesitantly and without noise, you peer through the glass door to see him in his regular clothes and in his desk, rifling through some documents that appear to be mission reports.

Kirishima looks up and catches your eye. Beaming at you with an inviting grin, he beckons you in with a wave of a hand.

“Y/N, bro! What’s up?”

You smile at him as you enter and close the door behind you.

He calls everyone bro, regardless of their gender.

“Hi, Ei. I have the report on the recruits, including Bakugou’s sidekick here with me,” you gesture to the folder in your hand. “Can you spare a minute to go through it together?”

What seems like hesitation dances across Kirishima’s face before he somehow schools it into a sheepish frown.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he starts, “I’m kinda busy right now,”

He flips through the pages for emphasis, “Have an important report due in an hour.”

“Oh, well that’s okay. I can just come back later when you’re free.”

You’re already turning back to exit his office when Kirishima speaks up again.

“—but Bakugou’s available!”

Slowly, you shift back to face him.

“...What?”

“I mean,” Kirishima backtracks, evidently flustered by his outburst, “Bakugou’s free right now. He can go through those documents with you. Especially since he’s the one getting a new sidekick and all.”

You gulp despite yourself, willing desperately to calm your now racing heart.

“But Ei… It’s always been you and our department coordinating on stuff like this. Why the sudden change now?”

It takes Kirishima a few seconds to reply.

And what he says knocks the breath out of your lungs.

“I just think it’s about time he starts taking matters into his own hands.”

When you got dressed and ready this morning, you didn’t think you’d be having your first proper conversation with your ex in two years.

But the universe, or rather, Kirishima, had other plans.

Thinking ‘this is the best it can get’ as you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you sigh and make your way to your desk to get the files, heading straight to Bakugou’s office afterward.

When you get there, you don’t dare to immediately walk toward his doorway as you did with Kirishima. Instead, you stop at his secretary’s desk.

“Is Dynamight in?”

“Yes,” his secretary chirps without hesitation. How she’s able to still be her sunshiney self despite working immediately under Bakugou is beyond you.

Human resilience, you guess.

She clicks a few times with her mouse as she stares at her laptop screen, before looking back at you again. “He’s actually expecting you, Y/N-san.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

Hope flutters in your chest without your permission.

You clear your throat in an attempt to not sound winded. “Really?”

You’re itching to ask if he cleared out his schedule specifically for you, but luckily, you don’t even have to make a fool of yourself because his secretary brings it up herself.

She smiles, “He had me move things around so he could make time for you.”

At that, you blink at her, speechless.

These double meanings are not helping in easing your nerves about this impending encounter.

“You can go ahead,” she gestures to the office, effectively snapping you out of your reverie. “I already gave him the heads up that you’re here.”

Great, you think to yourself. No turning back now.

After shooting her a quick thank you, you clutch the folder to your chest, as if it’s some sort of protective gear, and walk to his door. Upon reaching it, you realize that you don’t even have to knock, because it’s already slung wide open and held in place by a stopper.

You walk in.

Refusing to look at Bakugou, who, from the corner of your eye you can see has his back towards you and is looking at the view of the city skyline, you opt for going through the pages of the file instead.

With a sharp inhale, you finally look up to meet his gaze, only to find that he’s still turned away from you.

He probably didn’t hear me come in, you think.

You clear your throat, and he startles, albeit so minutely anyone else would’ve missed it, finally turning to regard you.

“Hello, Bakugou-san.”

You don’t wait for him to greet you in return. You simply move forward and place the folder on his desk, before stepping back again, hands clasped together behind you. He nods in acknowledgment and shifts to sit on his office chair.

“That folder contains the report on the recruits, including your new sidekick, Moriyama Kairi. It includes their personal histories, interview transcripts, and resumés, as well as recommendations by the departments regarding costumes, training programs, and the like.”

He only grunts in response, thumbing through the pages as you speak. He flips through them so fast that you doubt he’s even going to bother anything beyond skimming through.

He pauses, though, on a certain page, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowing as he examines it, before closing the folder and placing it back in front of him.

You brace yourself for a comment on an error of some sort.

Instead, he says: “Thanks.”

Your mind goes blank.

You scramble for a decent response.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“...Really?” he questions skeptically, pushing back on his desk to stand up, slowly circling it so that he can be face-to-face with you. He’s no less than two feet away now.

“It’s nothing?”

“I mean,” you stutter, shifting your eyes away from him to look at his desk, “it’s my job. That’s part of the job description.”

“Huh,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. Your eyes flicker back to him. Like Kirishima, he’s in his regular clothes, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“What?” you ask despite yourself, frustration bleeding into your voice.

He smirks, but there’s no malice behind it. “I didn’t know HR was supposed to produce a detailed write-up on how a sidekick can best complement their assigned Pro Hero.”

Your eyes widen slightly in alarm, and you find yourself grappling for any excuse to rid yourself of his suspicions.

Despite them being true.

“We are, actually,” you lie through your teeth. “I made a similar one for Kirishima back when we recruited Tanaka-san.”

“Really?” he asks again, visibly unconvinced, and you can’t help the annoyance that flashes through you. “Because I read through that file myself, and I didn’t see anything of the sort.”

Shit.

The playful expression that once adorned Bakugou’s face is now displaced by a serious countenance. You don’t even get to have a word in because he’s already speaking again.

“Why?” he starts, “Why did you do this for me?”

At that, you straighten up, face flaming in anger or embarrassment—you can’t tell. He seriously can’t be asking you this.

“It’s your first sidekick,” you retort, “And you’re not exactly Mr. Congeniality around here.”

You expect him to bite back with an insult himself, but he doesn’t.

“Okay, let’s say that’s true.”

You guffaw, “Wha–”

“Why go out of your way to make me this when you’re already drowning in work?”

You can’t believe the audacity of this guy.

“So you admit HR has been swamped these days?” you snap, but continue to deliver the last blow. “Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know! Since it’s Kirishima who does all of the coordinating work with us.”

“I do know,” he spits back, “That’s by design, and I’m more involved than you’d think. And,” he shoots you a look, “don’t change the subject.”

You’re bubbling with vengeful words but what comes out is a huff.

“What do you want me to say, Katsuki?”

At your taunting, he opens his mouth to say something, but ultimately decides against it.

Your stomach drops in disappointment.

“...Well,” you say meekly, “if you don’t have anything else for me, I have to get back to my office.”

Turning your back to him, you’re about to head for the door when he grabs your wrist.

“Wait.”

Your heart leaps in your chest.

You pause for a moment, before spinning to look at him.

It takes you less than a second to conclude that gone is the aloof and composed Bakugou.

It’s now the vulnerable Katsuki, who’s unable to look you in the eye, standing in front of you.

“Fuck, I…”

You can’t help but ache at the sight of him struggling. Despite yourself, you try and gently coax it out of him.

“What is it, Katsuki?”

At your affectionate mention of his first name, he finally meets your eye. You almost stumble back from the intensity of his gaze.

But not as much as at what he was going to say next.

“I want…you to admit it.”

You frown, “Admit what?”

He exhales before closing his eyes shut.

“That you’re still in love with me.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife

I love this fic so much words cannot express how much I love farmer!Bakugou

strawberry jam

cowboy(ish)! bakugou katsuki x fem! reader summary: This had to count as one of the worst days in your entire life — stuck on the side of the road in the hot sun in the middle of nowhere with your old, stupid, broken down car and no cell service. At least there was a super hot cowboy who stopped to help. contains: FLUFFF OMG JUST FLUFF AND LOVE word count: 11.6k (somebody sedate me pls) masterlist a/n: this is for the loml, @katxn15, for her birthday that was like, a month ago, BUT I FINALLY FINISHED OKAY IM SORRY IK I SUCK (but also, apologies to my followers, i still feel like this writing isn't my best work - but we're kicking writer's block's ass one day at a time) also, here's the strawberry jam recipe

This had to count as one of the worst days in your entire life — stuck on the side of the road in the hot sun in the middle of nowhere with your old, stupid, broken down car and no cell service. 

You’d just been trying to drive back home from college for spring break, but no — the universe had decided that it was too much to ask for and decided to dump you here, on the side of the backroad (because, of course, you thought that using the backroad would be quicker to avoid the usual highway traffic; and now there were no cars passing by that could help you) in the middle of some random field on a hot spring day.

You finally gave up trying to call someone — your roommate, your parents, a friend from your hometown — after about twenty minutes, when you realized that the phone stopped ringing completely and a low battery notification popped up.

Fucking hell.

Under the hot sun of the afternoon and without the AC, the car had started to reach its boiling point, leaving it unbearable to be stuck inside even if it offered the smallest amount of shade from the blinding light above. Your water bottle was all finished now too, so you were sure if you didn’t get out, you’d die of heat stroke. 

The air was sticky when you finally cracked open the driver’s door, and paired with the direct sunlight overhead you could already feel yourself turn sweaty and breathless in the heat, and yet you pushed yourself out with your phone still in hand and outstretched, trying to catch at least one minute of cell service.

For a minute you thought one bar popped up, but it was gone as soon as it came and you were left with nothing as you flung it back into the car and closed the door out of frustration. 

The stupid, fucking car just had to break down in the worst place possible, out in the middle of nowhere where no one was driving by. 

“Fuck!” You finally let out in frustration, grasping at your hair and pulling at it as the panic set in. 

You’d been sitting in your car for about thirty minutes now, and no one had driven by in all that time.

What if you were just stuck there until you died of heatstroke — okay that was an exaggeration, but at this rate you might have to be stuck on the side of the road for hours, you might even have to sleep in your car until morning.

Your back hurt just thinking about it. 

At the very least you’d be extremely dehydrated, you could already feel the energy getting sucked out of you from the sun in reverse photosynthesis — and now that you thought about it you kinda had to pee.

Scratch that, you really had to pee.

There were just miles of fields ahead and behind you, there was nowhere to go unless you wanted to just go at it right there in a bush, but there was no way you were attempting that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” You paced around your car trying to will your bladder to stop bothering you, hoping — or praying, more like — that someone would pass by and that they could just take you to their little nearby house. 

These fields had to belong to somebody, with the wheat, or whatever it was, that was being grown in bulk, there had to be someone living out there somewhere who had a bathroom that you could use.

And after what felt like an hour of waiting under the sun (though it was only about ten minutes), your prayers were finally answered when you spotted a red, old, beat-up looking pick up truck from across the distance, and the sight was enough to propel you to start waving your arms and jump around to catch their attention.

Maybe it was a nice, old farmer who was just heading to his house nearby who’d be kind enough to let you use their bathroom and phone and to help you with your car.

And that’s who you were expecting to step out when it slowed to a stop — a nice, old, friendly dude. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Instead, you were faced with a tall, young (your age, it looked like actually), attractive guy wearing worn-out cowboy boots, faded jeans, an orange plaid shirt, and a cowboy hat with blonde strands peeking out from underneath. And not only was he not old or a farmer, he was also scowling at you like it was your fault he’d decided to stop.

That was enough for your open mouth to snap closed in an instant, and instead of explaining your situation to him and thanking him for stopping like you were planning on doing, you stood there frozen with wide eyes, watching as he stomped towards you like he was about to yell at you for something. 

You cringed away from his figure with your eyes squeezed shut in response to his expected lecture, only for them to pop open when he spoke in a soft, grumbled tone instead.

“Yer car’s broken?”

“Huh?” you blinked up at him like you’d just been squirted in the face with water.

He rolled his eyes before they rested back onto your face with that same scowl. “Is yer car broken?” he asked louder.

“Oh, yeah” you quickly turned away to point at it as you babbled dumbly. “I think it’s the engine. It’s really old so it kinda sucks now.”

“Lemme take a look,” he walked around you towards the hood of your car — and you just stood awestruck as your mind finally registered that he wasn’t about to attack you, and that he was instead looking down at the wires and stupid things in the hood of your car like any other normal, nice person would have.

Why’d he look so angry then? A super bad case of resting bitch face?

You trailed after him, watching from the sidelines as he fiddled around with stuff you didn’t understand, biting the inside of your cheek when he reached up to wipe away some sweat that was dripping down his face before he continued working.

You know, now that you thought about it, he was actually super good looking. Under the small shade from the hood of the car, you could carve out his features: red, piercing eyes, clear skin, a strong jawline. 

Your roommate would be so jealous if she found out some super hot cowboy helped you with your car. It was straight out of a romance book actually. If only you hadn’t thrown your phone back in the car out of anger, you could’ve snuck a picture of him and sent it to her when you finally got cell service. 

You could already imagine the look on her face if you were able to get a picture of this guy, all screwed up in anger and—

“Engine’s gone,” the cowboy’s voice came back, and you were back to being an idiot.

“What?” you blinked up at him.

“S’not fixable. Engine’s dead,” he responded as he shut the hood. “Yer gonna need a ride then?”

“Yeah, uh actually,” you rubbed the back of your neck that was definitely gonna be sunburned, “I kinda have to use the bathroom. Do you live nearby, or—”

“Town’s about thirty minutes away, n’ I live past that.”

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath while turning away.

What the fuck were you supposed to do now?

“Jus’ go here,” he gestured to the blowing wheat field around you. “No one’s gonna find out.”

“Um, no,” you stopped him. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why? Yer too civilized for that shit?”

“I never said that—”

“Ya cityfolk have never had to piss outside before?” he challenged with a raised eyebrow.

You knew he was just trying to rile you up for some odd reason, trying to challenge you into doing something stupid and dumb just for the hell of it. And yet, and this sounded so idiotic, you felt like he was trying to guage something about you, to test some limit you had to see how far he could push you, and for some goddamn reason you were letting him push you past it.

Or maybe it was just because you had to pee really bad and were getting to the point where you really didn’t care anymore.

Either way your patience was running thin.

“I literally never said anything about any of that,” you huffed. “Stop putting words in my mouth. But fucking fine!” you raised your arms up in despair. “I’ll go piss somewhere out here. Happy now?”

The cowboy’s face twisted into surprise for a split second, but you watched it switch back into a frown as he stared boredly.

“Don’t take long. I’ve got places to be,” you could almost hear the chuckle in his voice — he really wasn’t as attractive now that he’d opened his mouth.

.

.

.

Mr. not-so-attractive-anymore cowboy didn’t even help you when you had to pull your overstuffed suitcase out of your trunk and stick it in the back of his pickup.

“A little help?” you’d looked at him with your hands on your hips after trying to hoist it onto the back of his pickup truck and failing.

“I’m the one doing you a favor,” was what he replied with before he just went and sat in the driver's seat — in response you stuck a middle finger out to his back.

It took a couple of tries, but you finally got it up and secured it — though you could feel the sweat that’d built up from you trying to lift your heavy, overpacked suitcase out in the sun and humidity. 

Damn you really wanted to kick yourself in the head for being stunned by his looks when you first saw him, his personality was actual garbage.

“Took ya long enough,” he grumbled when you swung the passenger door open, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes, making sure to close the door harsher than it needed to be in response.

You almost expected him to get angry at you for it, but at that point you didn’t care because you finally had AC. It was a sigh of relief after being stuck outside in the sweltering, afternoon sun for almost an hour, and you let yourself lean against the headrest as you finally let yourself breathe something other than the humid air outside that made you feel like you were choking on your own lungs.

The cowboy didn’t say anything after his initial comment, and you both instead drove down the road in silence as you stared out the window, watching the blur of fields and green that passed, with only the sound of the AC blasting to keep you both company.

You found yourself staring at him from the side after a while, perhaps out of boredom; and though you berated yourself once more for being so attracted to him because of how good he looked despite his personality, you couldn’t not thank him for helping you out in a dire situation.

“Thank you,” you found it in yourself to utter it somewhere besides your mind, and you noticed the slight tinge of a smile on his lips and the way his eyes slid over to you for a second.

“What was that?”

“You heard me the first time,” you groaned, resting your head in the palm of your hands while your elbow leaned on the door handle.

That elicited a small chuckle from the cowboy, and somehow you found yourself smiling in return.

“What am I supposed to do with my car?” you took advantage of the more normal mood. “I can’t just leave it on the side of the road.”

“I know someone who can deal with that in town, s’not really a problem.”

“Is there cell service there?” you instantly shot up. “I really have to tell my parents about what happened since they were expecting me to be home in the evening.”

“There’s nothin’ really in town, to be honest — most people use landlines ‘round here,” he shrugged. “Where I live’s got service though, I can bring you there.”

“...Thank you..” you found yourself choking out again. It had to be his stupidly handsome face, there was nothing else that could explain it. 

You noticed the small twitching smile on his lips again before it disappeared into his resting bitch face, but he wasn’t cocky about your thanks this time.

“S’not a big deal,” he grumbled back.

“I’m Y/N.” You decided to make the leap before the car settled back into the sound of blasting AC.

“Katsuki,” he replied without missing a beat.

At least now you knew Mr. Cowboy’s name.

“Town’s up ahead,” Katsuki spoke after a minute or so, pointing towards the small sign posted at the side of the road that read Welcome to Auburn Springs — and you watched the deserted-looking fields transform into roads and small buildings through the window as Katsuki began slowing down to adhere to the changed speed limit.

It looked straight out of those old western movies your dad was obsessed with for some reason — with small, cramped and shabby buildings lining the main road, though they all seemed to be out of use with either boarded up doors and windows or peeling signs that read CLOSED.

These used to be businesses, you quickly realized, from the couple of handpainted, faded logos that were still stuck to a couple of windows; but they all had to be shut down for some reason. Perhaps the buildings were too old?

“This is town?” you turned to Katsuki, confused. How did people get anything done?

“Old town,” he grumbled back. “Main street’s up ahead.”

You nodded before turning back out the window, taking note of Katsuki turning right at the edge of the street to where you were met with a lot of buildings with very obviously newer construction (though it was still quite old fashioned — but it wasn’t historic). 

Smaller, obviously Mom and Pop shops, lined the street — you caught a motel, a café, and a small grocery store — following the curve of the road as it went into a roundabout at what you guessed was the center of town. A towering fountain stood in the middle of the small square, a young man standing proudly in the middle of it, watching over all the stores for their protection.

Katsuki pulled past the roundabout into a small parking lot behind one of the buildings on the side, and quickly gestured for you to get out. 

“I’ll take ya to the tow shop first,” he guided you back towards the stores, and you got a better view of the small town center and the shops that lined it, the small boxes of flowers that were laid out on the sidewalk next to the streetlamps, the single stoplight at the end of the road with a blinking yellow light — you guessed a lot of people didn’t come by.

“Ya comin’?”

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare.

Your head snapped back to where Katsuki was standing. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

He nodded slightly, gesturing to the shop behind him and for you to follow him in. When he opened the door to walk in, you half expected him to let the door fall closed behind him; you couldn’t really stop your eyes from widening when he held the door open for you, stunned in place until he glared at you and gestured for you to walk in.

You were immediately blasted with air again, coming from the large fan attached to the cracked ceiling, met with a small shop: an empty counter in the back, and a couple of comfy old armchairs chairs in the foreground with a round, wooden table in the middle.

“Ei!” Katsuki called out, and it startled you out of the calm silence that was present in the shop.

“One sec Katsuki I’m coming!” someone called out from somewhere in the back, maybe there was a hidden room back there.

Katsuki huffed before walking towards the counter while you followed behind him slowly and unsurely, guessing you were waiting for whoever Ei was.

“Sorry, Sorry I–” a tall, red-haired guy (who was also very attractive — was this where all the hot guys had gone?) appeared from some side door that you hadn’t noticed, pausing when he saw you standing there behind the counter as well. “...I was just eating lunch really quickly. I, uh, how can I help you ma’am?”

You opened your mouth to answer but Katsuki was already talking just as the words were forming in your head.

“Her car’s stuck on the side of the highway — the side road ya know? ‘Bout thirty minutes out of town — engine looked like it was busted.”

“Ei” stood there for a few seconds, blinking between you and Katsuki for what felt like hours before his eyes brightened and smiled at the both of you.

“That’s not a problem ma’am,” he nodded towards you. “I can grab it easily and bring it over to Sero’s across the street. He can fix it up for ya if it isn’t too messed up.”

“That would be a life saver, thank you,” you spoke before Katsuki could say anything. “How much do I owe you?”

Ei just let out a smile. “S’not a problem. Any friend of Katsuki’s is a friend of mine.”

“She’s not a friend,” you heard a pained grumble from beside you, and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I insist,” you pushed, turning back to Ei. “I can’t ask you to do something like that without paying you for it.”

Ei let out a small chuckle, with a look directed towards Katsuki that you couldn’t exactly make out, before replying. “Twen’y dollars is enough.”

You dug through the wallet that had been sitting in your back pocket, fishing out a fifty dollar bill instead and placing it on the counter.

Ei opened his mouth to ask about giving you change but you stopped him before he could speak.

“Keep it. You don’t have to charge me a heavily discounted price.”

A slow, toothy smile spread on his face once more, as he glanced back between both you and Katsuki before sliding the bill back over the counter to his side and tucking it to somewhere you couldn’t see it.

“I’ll let ya know tomorrow when I get the car over to Sero’s. Ya got a number that’s good to call?” he grabbed a notepad from his side of the counter and a pen, scribbling quickly as you rattled off your phone number.

“Great, I’ll give ya a call tomorrow ma’am,” he nodded his head slightly. 

“Oh, you don’t need to call me that,” you stopped him. It felt weird being called something that made you feel so old. “Just Y/N’s fine.”

“Good to know,” he reached his hand out towards yours over the counter, eyes sliding over towards Katsuki in a way that you didn’t notice. “I’m Eijirou, Miss Y/N.”

You shook his hand with a smile — two super attractive dudes in one day? Your roommate was gonna be mad mad that she decided not to come back with you when you’d asked. “Nice to meet you Mr. Eijirou.”

“Likewise.”

Katsuki cleared his throat, and both you and Eijirou’s handshake broke apart in time for Katsuki to come close enough to grumble in your ear that you looked like you were going to pass out.

“Go get somethin’ from the café across the other side of the fountain,” he pointed out the window. “You’ll get heatstroke otherwise.”

You could barely get yourself to register how close he was standing next to you as he practically breathed down your neck with the smell of his woody, spicy aftershave swallowing you — so you nodded quickly, waved bye to both (and the cool air from the fan) before you pressed open the door and stepped out to shield them both from the view of your flushed face. You could practically feel the heat radiating off your cheeks as you power walked across the sidewalk, trying not to think about what’d just happened in less than a minute.

“Who was she?” Eijirou gave a cheeky smile as he leaned forward on the counter once the door closed behind you. “Ya finally got yourself a girl, man?”

“No one you fuckass,” Katsuki rolled his eyes as he sneered. 

“She didn’t look like no one,” Kirishima’s smile widened.

“Jus’ found her on the side of the road and she needed help. Nothin’ more than that.”

“Yeah right Katsuki,” he let out a chuckle. “Yer not known to be the most helpful out there.”

“What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“I’ve known you since we were kids, ‘kay? Yer not exactly known to hold open doors for girls,” Eijirou rose his eyebrows in a smug look. “And I can’t blame ya. She’s pretty.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest as he turned away.

“Would’ya mind if I asked her out then?” Eijirou hit him with the ultimatum, a growing smirk on his face as he watched Katsuki’s shoulders tense in anger. “I already got her number too, I could ask her tomorrow when I call ‘bout her car. Maybe we could go down to the bar and get a couple drinks, I’ll invite her back—”

“Fine, ya little shit.” Katsuki whirled back around with a scowl imprinted into his features. That’s the reaction he was looking for. “She’s pretty or whatever, ‘kay? I just stopped ‘cause I saw her jumpin’ on the side of the road like a lunatic. But that doesn’t mean anythin’. I don’t like her or nothin’.”

“I never said anything about likin’ her,” Eijirou chuckled. “S’not a bad thing, man. It’s good that yer letting yerself out a lil’. And she seems like a nice person to do that with.”

“Gimme that fifty back,” Katsuki opened his palm over the counter. “Put it on my tab instead.”

Eijirou stuck it in his palm without hesitation, a small, knowing smirk resting over his face as he watched Katsuki stick into his back pocket.

Katsuki liked you.

.

.

.

As it turned out, Katsuki had gone to the city for a farmer’s market (as he did every Sunday and Tuesday), which meant he had to go to that little grocery store you’d noticed to sell off the couple extra crates of fruit he had sitting in the back of the truck. Even though you tried to tell him that you could help him carry at least one as thanks for giving you a ride, he told you that your “noodle arms” weren’t gonna be of any help to him, and carried all of them across the street while telling you to stay by the pickup truck with your iced tea.

It was winding down towards the evening, you realized, as you watched the wispy clouds overhead take their slow strides across the blue sky; the sun was definitely leaning towards the western hemisphere of the sky now, towards a string of mountains that laid in the distance.

Out of plain curiosity, you slipped your phone out of your pocket to see if there was any cell service available. Even a little bit would’ve been fine at that point, you just had to tell your parents what happened and that your trip was probably canceled.

But, as Katsuki had said, there was nothing, not even a single bar, and you only had about five percent of battery left. Great.

You shoved it back into your pocket without another thought, sipping from your iced tea while shielding your eyes from the sun. 

“If ya drink like that yer gonna have to piss again.”

Mr. Cowboy Katsuki was back.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes and flipped him off before walking towards the passenger’s side.

He only barked out a laugh that startled you, leaving him in a lopsided smile that you couldn’t exactly understand — but you were both on the road before you knew it, passing by a couple of different farms that he pointed out because you couldn’t tell the difference between wheat and barley. 

It wasn’t long until he pointed out that they’d passed his property line, and you watched the wheat fields turn into corn as Katsuki turned into a smaller, winding road up to a large house you could see from the distance.

“That’s the main house,” Katsuki knew to explain from your curious stare. “I don’t live there. It’s where my boss lives.”

“Oh. What’s your job then?”

“I’m a ranch hand, I help out with stuff ‘round the property. Takin’ of horses and cows n’ shit.”

Well that explained the cowboy outfit.

“I thought you said you were taking me to where you lived.”

“I do live here. I don’t live there, though,” he gestured towards the house specifically. “There’re smaller cabins scattered around the property — two others live on site too.”

“Ranch hands, you mean?”

He grumbled in agreement, and you nodded as you watched the house grow larger and larger until he’d parked the truck right in the middle of the driveway.

You followed him out of the car as he marched straight into the house as if he owned the place, taking hesitant steps until you closed the front door behind you to observe the cozy space that’d been made; a beautiful stone fireplace was what you noticed when you first walked in, as well as the two tufted, brown leather couches with, what looked like, a hand-quilted blanket tossed over the side, and a wooden coffee table in the center to complete the living room.

It made you want to curl up with a book and a cup of coffee just from the sight of it, but you were in some random person’s house you had to remind yourself as you followed where you saw Katsuki disappear to the kitchen (which was small, quaint — with a pretty bowl of fruit on the counter and a dark stained dining table already set with four places of silverware) and the back door where you could see him standing through the window talking to someone.

You quickly made your way outside, where Katsuki was talking to an older man with a large crate in his hands; he was thinned and tall, with blonde hair that stuck out from under the straw hat he was wearing and bright, cheerful blue eyes — with a small smile peeking from his lips when he noticed that you were standing there.

What did Katsuki say to him?

“Sorry to hear about yer car,” he approached you, a gentle tone in his voice. “I do hope it can be fixed tomorrow so you can go home. In the meantime, why don’t you stay in the guest bedroom upstairs?”

“Are you sure?” you blinked. You hadn’t even said anything to the dude and he was already offering to let you stay the night? “I don’t want to be any trouble, I mean there was a motel in town I could just stay–”

“Ya can’t even drive there by yerself,” Bakugou interrupted. “And I’m sure as hell not driving ya there.”

“It would be no trouble,” the man said as he walked up onto the porch. “I have more than enough food ready and the guest room’s always prepared.”

“Uh, then yes. Thank you, Mr…”

“Toshinori,” he nodded as he passed you to step inside. “Just Toshinori, no need for honorifics.”

“Thank you, Toshinori.”

“Of course. Katsuki, get ‘er suitcase outta the trunk, will ya? And show her where the guest bedroom is,” Toshinori said before disappearing into the kitchen, and you inwardly smirked when Katsuki grumbled under his breath about having to lug your heavy suitcase up the stairs yet showed you back through the house and up the stairs without saying anything to Toshinori.

He just pointed towards the room from across the hall, told you the bathroom was right across from it, and trudged back down the stairs with his heavy boot fall to go get your suitcase.

You wandered into the room, taking in the simple wooden bed frame and linen sheets, the matching dresser and nightstand set as well as the lacy curtains that were tied to the edges of the window to let the sun in.

It was pretty and pleasing and simple, and you sat down on the bed without thinking about it to grab your phone from its spot in your back pocket, only to be greeted by a (what seemed like) a thousand notifications from your parents and your roommate — which meant you’d finally gotten some cell service.

You called your mom first, of course — she would’ve killed you if you hadn’t — and she was almost crying when you told her that you were okay and that the car had just decided to be a piece of shit and break down in the worst place possible. She seemed hesitant to hang up once you’d finished, but she ran out of things to tell you about and finally had to let you go after about two minutes.

Your roommate though, you savored that conversation.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she screamed. “You just happen to be stuck where all the hot people are and you can’t even send me a picture of one of them?”

“It was only like, two hot guys but whatever.”

“Okay, okay, okay — what about the cowboy though? You said he was an asshole but he was hella good looking. Like how good looking, describe him.”

“Um, well he’s blonde, and tall,” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Super attractive. Probably toned too, I mean he does work on a farm all day, I’m sure he does a lot of heavy lifting.”

“Anything else?” she pressed. “Give me specifics here.”

“His eyes are red, like a really pretty, vibrant red — kinda like a strawberry, sorta. And he’s always kinda frowning. That’s why I was scared of him when I first saw him! I thought he was gonna come and yell at me, I swear–”

You were interrupted by knocking, where you whirled around to find Katsuki standing at your open door with your suitcase, his (what you guessed, at this point you only knew him for like, two hours) usual frown on his face but with a new look you hadn’t seen in his eyes.

Shit. He fucking heard me, right?

“Dinner’s in twen’y,” was all he said before he left — and you let out a sigh of relief in return at the lack of reaction.

By the time you’d washed your face and gotten downstairs, the table had already been joined by two other guys, who, you guessed, were the other ranch hands Katsuki was talking about earlier, along with an additional place setting at the end of the table. One of the guys was covered in freckles and had green hair, and the other had dual-colored red and white hair. Izuku, who you learned was the green-haired guy, asked you a million questions about college: what you majored in, what it was like living in the city, how it was to attend classes everyday — everything he could probably think about; in the meantime Shoto, Mr. red and white hair, sat quietly and nodded along to whatever Izuku said. 

Surprisingly, Katsuki did the same as Shoto did, with the occasional grunt to something or a one-word answer when Toshinori told him about something that had to be done the next day, and it was surprising to see him act un-snarky compared to how he’d been earlier; you kinda wanted to kick him under the table just to see what he would do in response, but you didn’t want to be rude, especially not when his boss was nice enough to let you stay the night without even meeting you — for all he knew, you might rob the place and sneak away when no one was awake.

And honestly, it was nice to sit down and eat at a dinner table, it felt like you were at home when you were in highschool, where your mom did that thing where she made everyone go around the table and talk about one thing interesting they learned that day; it was so different from the nights you’d spent cooped up in the quiet library with a simple sandwich so you could get through your essay in time.

You were quick to offer help in cleaning up (since you’d been upstairs pacing around your room trying to convince yourself that Katsuki, in fact, hadn’t heard what you’d said about him and the weird glint in his eye was made up in your mind) since you’d been upstairs when they were setting the table, stacking all the plates silverware and bringing them over to the sink where Katsuki was already washing his.

“Just put ‘em down, I’ll do ‘em,” he pointed to the counter space next to the sink.

“I can help though,” you crossed your arms over your chest. He hadn’t even let you carry one crate when you were in town — he had to at least let you help here.

“Clean up the lefto’ers,” he rolled his eyes before going back to scrubbing a plate. “There’s smaller containers in that cabinet next to the fridge. Put ‘em in there and bring me the bigger dishes.”

“Aye Aye Captain.”

You heard him grumble under his breath and you laughed as you stuffed leftover carrots into a smaller tupperware container.

It was kinda funny, actually, how your perception of him had changed in the past couple hours: you’d gone from being scared of him, to thinking he was attractive, then finding out he was an asshole, and now you were stuck in this weird limbo of being friendly and awkward with him.

“Do you have a phone charger I could borrow?” you asked as you placed the larger dishes next to the sink. “My phone is about to die and I forgot to bring one.”

“No.”

“I won’t lose it or break it if that's what you’re thinking,” you stood next to him as finished up the dishes.

“Can’t,” was all he said as he used a towel to dry his hands.

“Why not?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t have one.”

That made you pause for a second, stuck in place as you watched him shuffle to the other side of the kitchen to do something.

“What do you mean you don’t have one?”

“I don’t have one,” he shrugged.

“What do you use to charge your phone then?”

“I have one but it won’t work on yers.”

“Why? What phone do you have?”

And damn, were you shocked when he pulled an old flip phone out of his back pocket to show you.

“Are you serious?” you blinked between him and the phone in his hand, watching as the scowl on his face deepened — and that was about all you could take before you burst into laughter. “How do you do anything on it? Can you even text on it or what?”

“Oh shaddup,” he grumbled as he shoved it into his back pocket, watching as you could barely hold yourself up as you laughed about him being a grandpa and the phone being from the 1990s.

The both of you’d actually forgotten that everyone else was still in the kitchen with you — until Midoriya told you that he had a phone charger you could borrow, leaving you and Katsuki standing there and staring at the rest of the kitchen with wide eyes until you could finally muster out a “yes” and a “thank you”.

Waking up the next morning without the sound of your phone alarm screaming at you to get up so you could lug yourself to class was refreshing, to say the least. It was almost strange to wake up naturally, to the sunlight streaming in through the window and the view of the green fields outside. 

It was probably the most relaxed you’d felt in a while.

In fact you were so relaxed, that you stumbled down the stairs after just crawling out of bed in need of some coffee since you remembered that you’d noticed one when you were in the kitchen yesterday. It was already late morning, so you expected that everyone else would be out doing whatever their jobs were anyways, it wouldn’t matter what you looked like.

The wooden floors creaked underfoot as you stepped into the kitchen, beelining straight to the coffee pot that sat on the counter next to the fridge — a smile perking up when you realized there was already coffee in it, and it was still a good temperature.

But you almost spilled coffee all over yourself when someone cleared their throat, and you whirled around to find Katsuki sitting at the kitchen table with a mug in hand; a stupid smirk climbing up his face as he realized he’d scared you.

“Did sleeping beauty finally wake up?” he sipped his coffee, looking up at you through his eyebrows.

You only rolled your eyes as you took a sip from your own mug, though you pulled away after a second because it was way too bitter.

“Do you guys have any creamer or something?”

“Fridge,” he grumbled — eyes following as you opened it and grabbed a small glass container, pouring it into your coffee and putting it back before stirring it with a spoon and coming to sit at the table.

“What time do you wake up?” you asked after a moment. “I’m guessing you didn’t just get up and come here to grab coffee.”

“Around six,” he shrugged. “We try to do more work in the mornings so it’s not too hot.”

You just nodded as you went back to sipping on your coffee, watching from the windows as the fields swayed in response to the wind. Life seemed to move so much slower out here, which was so strange compared to the busy lifestyle you were used to.

And what felt even stranger was Katsuki sitting next to you, sipping on his coffee, without a care in the world — strangely domestic, even. You could find yourself imagining your future like this, in a small little kitchen being served pancakes and coffee as you stared out to the pretty, lush fields outside.

But, why were you thinking about this with Katsuki?

You turned to look at him discreetly, watching his throat move slowly as he sipped on his coffee, the steam still rising from the cup. 

How was he able to drink it when it was so hot? Was he secretly burning his tongue and keeping quiet about it?

“Ei–Eijirou call you yet?” Katsuki (speak of the devil) asked suddenly, his voice harder and colder, a contrast to what it had been when he’d first called you out for sleeping in.

“I don’t think so,” you shrugged, sitting up straighter. “I haven’t checked my phone yet. But I’m pretty sure his phone call would’ve woken me up.”

“Let me know what happens,” he said as he pushed himself up from the table. “I can drive ya into town if it gets fixed.”

“I will,” was all you could say before he was already out on the porch, back door slamming behind him as you were left staring at the rest of the empty kitchen.

The sudden change in his behavior threw you off, leaving you with whiplash as you took another small sip of your coffee. You thought the both of you would continue being as friendly as you had been yesterday — if “friendly” could be defined as trying to get a rise out of the other, but to you it meant the same.

What’d happened in the few minutes that neither of you were talking?

You could only let out a sigh, pushing yourself up from the table to wash your mug in the sink with a small, unnoticed frown settling over your lips. And it, once more, led you towards the question: why were you thinking about Katsuki?

And you could try to justify it by saying it was because he was the only person you’d really talked to in the entire town — maybe the only person you really got to know (in a small way). Maybe it was just because he was attractive, and there was some sort of pull that always seemed to lead to wherever he was — you really weren’t sure.

Omygodddd…. I’m getting hung up over a guy I’ve barely met.

And with that, you headed upstairs to take a shower and clear your head.

.

.

.

You were, once again, reminded by the circumstances of your trip when you opened your suitcase to only find it stuffed with winter clothes — a byproduct of you still having a majority of your wardrobe stuck in your room at your parents house. You’d been planning on switching out your winter wardrobe with the summer clothes from home over your week spent there, since the sweaters and puffy jackets took up too much space for anything else to fit in your small, shared dorm closet.

The only thing that seemed to be appropriate for the weather outside was an oversized university t-shirt that you’d gotten at the beginning of the year that you’d promptly forgotten about, only found a couple days ago when you packed your whole wardrobe away — and a pair of jeans.

The shirt seemed to swallow you though, since the university had just given out large sizes for everyone (maybe because they expected everyone was gonna be a giant football player for some reason), so you tied it up into a somewhat crop top just so you wouldn’t drown in the cheap cotton.

If you weren’t able to go home this week and switch out your clothes, you might find yourself dying in the heat when you went back for classes next week. At least then you’d have an excuse to tell your parents to buy clothes instead of school supplies.

As you went through your suitcase to see if there was anything you could wear in hotter weather (maybe something had just slipped in), your phone started ringing. 

You only assumed it was your mom, asking what an update was on the situation with your car, and answered it without looking at the screen. 

When “Hey, it’s Eijirou,” came out instead of Hi honey, you had to pause just to register what was going on.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Eijirou,” you finally answered, sitting down on your bed. “Sorry, I’m going through my suitcase.”

“Nah yer all good. I wanted to tell you I brought yer car to Sero’s already. He said the engine looks real old. He’s gonna try and fix it, but he said there’s no promises. I’ll call ya later in the evening once he’s finished.”

“Damn, that was fast.”

“Yeah, well there’s not exactly a lotta business ‘round here. Only luck we have is if someone’s drivin’ and their car breaks down — like what happened with you.” You heard him chuckle from the other end of the phone before it settled into silence for a second or so. “How’s Katsuki treating ya?”

The topic startled you. Was he reading your mind or what? And, what exactly were you supposed to say when you knew they were probably friends of some sort? Katsuki called him Ei.

“Um, fine?” you sounded like you were unsure, which wasn’t what you were going for since you were just confused as to where it came from.

“Lemme know if he’s being an asshole — I’ll whack him upside the head for ya. He doesn’t exactly have a lotta experience being open with others.”

WHERE IS ALL THIS COMING FROM??

“I’ll, uh — I’ll keep that in mind,” you responded just as unsure, which was then met with an awkward silence that he finally ended with an “I’ll call ya later about the car” and a goodbye.

You hung up the phone feeling more confused about what was going on with Katsuki than you’d started, and just decided to ignore all of it to head downstairs and tell him about the situation with your car — he did say to tell him what happened when you got the call from Eijirou.

No one was in the kitchen when you stepped out to the back porch, making sure to close the door behind you. It was the first time you’d seen the rest of the farm in its openness, and not through a window. 

A vegetable garden was what first caught your eyes, sitting in a small fenced area just next to the porch with neat little rows and small wooden signs labeling each crop. A faded red barn sat just a couple hundred feet past that, with a couple of windows you could see horses through as you walked past a separate patch of strawberries. 

You spotted one of the cabins that Katsuki had been talking about earlier towards the left of it all: a neat little wood cabin with a small, clean porch, a welcome mat, and a rocking chair out front. 

You found Katsuki standing at the side of the barn with a hose and a bucket, washing a foal who looked like they’d rather do anything than be there at that moment.

He didn’t say anything when he noticed you’d approached him, evidenced by the double take he’d given your figure before he went back to brushing the wriggling horse to make sure the soap cleansed them thoroughly.

“Eijirou called about the car.”

He didn’t look up as he responded. “And?”

“He said that Sero said the engine looked pretty old, so it might not be able to get fixed. But he’ll call later in the evening to let me know for sure.”

You heard him hum before he doused the foal with hose water.

“I’m not really sure what to do now,” you continued, leaning against the wall. “If the car isn’t fixable does that mean I’m stuck? I don’t wanna ask my parents to come out all the way here just to get me.”

“I’ve gotta go to the farmers market in the city again tomorrow,” Katsuki grumbled as he towel-dried the foal (who snuggled into his warmth). “I can jus’ take ya with me.”

“Are you sure?” you pressed. “I don’t want to be a burden and–”

“Stop talkin’ shit,” he rolled his eyes as he scooped the foal up and walked back into the barn with you following. “M’already going there — S’not a burden if I’m already headed there anyways. Jus’ lemme know what happens later and we’ll see.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, watching him place the foal back into the stable with its mother, where it rushed straight to nurse from her. “What’s their name?” you turned to Katsuki.

“The foal? Her name’s Lavender.”

“That’s pretty,” you hummed.

“Thought it was fitting for a spring baby,” he shrugged, rearranging some of the tack equipment to their proper places on the opposing wall.

You walked over to another horse, a pretty brown mare who had her head sticking out of her stall, trying to gauge your attention. 

“You named them?”

“Some of ‘em, yeah,” he gestured to the pretty girl who was now nuzzling your hand to encourage you to keep running your fingers across her face. “She’s Iris.”

“I used to love naming horses,” you gave your full attention to the creature in front of you, scratching the sides of her ears as she bent down. You could feel Katsuki’s stare from the back of your head.

“My grandparents had horses,” you continued. “They lived not too far from the town I live in, so we’d try and visit them in the summer. They used to let me name the summer babies when we visited — one of them was Baby. She was a baby horse so I only thought it was proper to name her Baby. I was three, I think,” you chuckled. “Another one was Strawberry — because I had an obsession with strawberries when I was six.”

When you looked back at Katsuki, he was leaning against the opposing wall, staring at you — more like observing you, actually; like you were some animal in your natural habitat on some nature documentary.

“The first horse I ever named was this black mare when I was ten,” he spoke, hands dug into his sides with his arms crossed over his chest. “Called her Cherry.”

“That sounds like a hooker’s name,” you raised an eyebrow, watching as the soft expression he wore turned into a playful sneer.

“Hah? As if Baby and Strawberry aren’t hooker names.”

“Well, I mean, they could be,” you rolled your eyes. “But I feel like they’re not as obvious as Cherry.”

“Whatever,” he bit back, pushing himself off the wall. “Still a better name than Baby.”

“I was three!”

“Whatever you say,” you heard him chuckle as he strode out, hands shoved into his pocket with a cocky stance. “Now are ya gonna help me, or are ya just gonna stand around and stare?”

“Help you with what, exactly?” It was your turn to cross your arms over your chest with an eyebrow raised. “I thought I was too weak to help.”

“This is different.”

“What is it?”

“Strawberries.”

“...Strawberries?”

He didn’t answer you as he charged straight out of the barn, his stupid cowboy boots leaving you in the dust as you were forced to follow behind him without an answer. 

Katsuki led you past the vegetable garden you saw earlier to the small patch of strawberries you’d noticed, though you didn’t get what he meant by saying he needed “help” with them. Picking them? 

The cabin you’d noticed earlier lay nearby as well, under the cool shade of the grove of trees outlining the main house — and you stood, watching as  Katsuki ran up the small steps of the porch to grab two baskets, before coming back to hand you one.

“That cabin’s yours?” you squinted in the sun, almost jealous that you weren’t wearing some bigass cowboy hat that would protect your eyes.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Strawberries are mine too,” he gestured towards the small, fenced area. “I grew ‘em myself for the market.”

“Really? That’s so cool,” you followed him, stepping over the fence. “So you sell them for yourself then?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “The old man said he doesn’t really care what we do since we’ve already helped him for so long.”

“Do you just sell them as plain strawberries — or do you make stuff out of them?”

“Jus’ jam, usually,” he grunted, leaning down as he began picking the fruits off the bushes and tossing them into his basket. “Don’t really get enough time to do much else.”

You hummed, leaning down at another bush as you plucked off a couple strawberries and placed them into the basket held in the crook of your elbow. They were so vibrantly red, like the color of expensive lipstick your roommate liked to wear out to a bar (under the guise that it’d attract rich, hot dudes)  — like the color of Katsuki’s eyes, just as you’d noticed the night before.

You kind of wanted to eat all of them, though you weren’t sure that Katsuki would be happy about you gobbling down all of his strawberries. He’d probably tear you a new one. But, maybe a taste wouldn’t hurt.

You plucked a small one, as ripe and red as some of the larger ones you’d picked, just so it would be more discreet — a small smile creeping up when you saw that Katsuki was busy doing what he was doing; you were about to pop it into your mouth when you noticed a beetle making it’s journey through the leaves of the bush before it crawled into one of the branches and disappeared into the plant, and immediately decided against trying any of them before they were washed.

It wasn’t too long til your basket was filled to the brim, threatening to overflow from the way they were piled on top of each other; it was heavy enough that it required two hands to hold it.

Katsuki was just about finished too, finally standing up to his full height and wiping away the sweat that’d dripped down his forehead with the back of his forearm before his eyes settled on you. A small, sly smirk had made its way up to his lips, though you couldn’t understand why he was looking at you like that.

“What’s the look for?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You need both hands to hold the basket?” he snorted.

You wrinkled your nose as soon as you realized he was carrying his own with a single sturdy hand — almost making the stupid basket look as light as air, even though you knew how heavy it was since it was just as filled (if not more) as yours was.

“Well sorry Mr. I work on a farm and basically lift weights for a living, that I need two hands to hold the basket so I don’t fall on my ass,” you huffed, rolling your eyes when he let out his bark of a laugh.

“Jus’ gimme that,” he walked towards you, holding his other hand out.

“No. I can carry it on my own.” Even though my shoulders are killing me. But feminism!

“It looks like yer arms are about to pop off,” he took another step closer. “Give it.”

“Nope,” you answered, making sure to pop the p while rolling your feet back and forth between your toes and heels.

“Give me the basket, shitty woman.”

“You said I should be helping you,” you emphasized. “This is me helping you.”

“You can help me — by giving me the basket.”

“How is that helping you?”

“Ya can’t exactly do anything else if yer arms fall off,” he rolled his eyes, ignoring the offended look you gave him. “B’sides, I want ya to go grab the jars for me.”

His hand comes to grab the handle you’re gripping tightly, fingers accidentally brushing against yours as the smell of aftershave hits your nose, just as it had yesterday from how close you’re standing — it makes your stomach flutter from how warm and rough his hands are, just from that little glimpse you catch of him, and you almost drop the basket in the process.

“Wh-Where are they?” you don’t break the eye contact that’s connected you, his hand still over yours.

“M’house,” he rasps — and you swallow, thickly, letting the weight of the basket shift from your hands to his before he continues. “They’re on the counter.”

You nod slightly, finally breaking the heat of his stare and his fingers when you fully let go of the basket and turn to the small cabin, thankful for the cool shade of the trees when you step up the porch from how hot your face has become, like you’d gotten a sunburn.

The little welcome mat invites you in as you push open his front door; and though it feels strange walking into someone’s house like that, you don’t want to look back at Katsuki and give him the opportunity to notice your flushed face.

You settle on not being nosy as you make your way into his kitchen after wiping your shoes on the welcome mat, just taking note of his decor’s simplicity and the cleanliness of the small cabin. There was a cardboard box filled with jars sitting on the counter, just as he said there would be — which you grabbed easily before making your way outside. 

Katsuki was still standing where he had been, feet rooted in the same position under the sun with flushed cheeks under his cowboy hat — an unreadable expression on his face before he turned and began trudging towards the house with you by his side. There was nothing besides the crunch of dirt underfoot and the birds you could hear from the trees. Your shoulders occasionally bumped due to your unfamiliarity with the uneven ground, but he never said anything — so you left it.

The kitchen was quiet too, when you both walked in, with only the sound of the fan whirring from the living room ceiling while you looked up to Katsuki, wondering what’d happened again.

Every time there was a moment between you, it disappeared to reveal Katsuki being harsher than he had been previously — and it was always in a matter of seconds. Sure, he hadn’t been welcoming when you met him, but he was still willing to stop at the side of the road to help a complete stranger; that could tell you enough about his character. 

You watched from the kitchen table as he washed the strawberries in a large plastic bowl in the sink, rinsing them out a couple of times before he placed them between your seat at the table and the one next to you. As he turned away to get whatever else he needed, you stole a strawberry — popping it into your mouth, eyes widening from how good it was.

After plucking the stem off another, a firm hand stopped you from taking a bite out of it; and Katsuki gave you a sneer after stealing it and taking a bite while he sat in the seat next to you.

“Cut ‘em small,” he pushed a knife and a cutting board your way.

“What’re you doing then?” you raised your eyebrows, watching as he finished off the rest of the strawberry he’d stolen.

“Making sure ya do it correctly,” he leaned back in his chair.

“That’s not fair.”

“It is if yer a thief.”

“It was one.”

“I saw you take the first one,” he smirked, leaving you to roll your eyes before pulling the bowl closer and getting to work.

He hovered over you for the first five you did, commenting that you were cutting the strawberry cubes too big or too small (though you weren’t sure it mattered if they were ‘too’ small — didn’t you want it as small as possible for jam?). But when he finally approved of the size of the pieces, you built up a pace for yourself — slicing them long twice before cutting them three (or four, depending on the size of the strawberry) ways across — tossing them into a different bowl Katsuki’d provided when the cutting board became too full.

It didn’t take as long as you would have expected, your fingers stained red and ready to prune when you finished, before looking up to find Katsuki’s nodding head bobbing alongside you.

“Not too bad for a newbie,” he smirked, standing up and grabbing sugar. 

After adding the amount he deemed necessary, he showed you how he got it ready to cook by mixing the sugar and strawberries with a spatula until the mixture was soupy and liquidy. He transferred it to a pot on the stove, still stirring it with the same spatula as he explained what to do.

“If it starts sticking, ya need to take it off and lower the heat,” was one of the pieces of advice he gave (the only one you retained)  — but all you could do was watch the top of his cowboy hat bob up and down from your spot on the countertop, kicking your legs slightly as you watched him go through the motions of making strawberry jam.

It continued on for twenty minutes, of him explaining small things that you weren’t really listening to as he continued to stir it; until you watched the foam bubble down to reveal a shiny jam, darker than the color of the original strawberries.

“Put the kettle on,” he ordered, and you kicked your legs out as you pushed yourself off the counter. 

You wandered to the other side of the kitchen to do as he asked, watching as he turned the gas off and let the pot start cooling down while stirring.

“What’s the water for?”

“So the jars don’t break,” he looked up. “The glass shatters if the temperature difference is too high.”

He had you pour the water into the jars to warm them up before he came to the table and started filling them up with a ladle stolen from a kitchen drawer, handing them to you to seal and cap them. 

The process was quiet and concentrated, as you both went through the motions of filling up each jar and sealing them, until you were finished and left with about thirty jars.

It was when you finished that you realized how close you were sitting next to each other, shoulders almost touching, your pinky fingers basically intertwined; you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him. And when you turned to look at him, you noticed how close your faces were to each other — how you you could practically feel his breath fanning your face when he did the same, how his eyes seemed to roam your face the same way yours were doing to his — and how it felt like you were getting closer; an invisible string was drawing you together, bringing you both closer and closer as you stared at his lips.

“Oh — jam?”

All it took was an instant for the both of you to break eye contact, turning to stare at the back door. Shoto had stepped in, completely disregarding the both of you as he walked forward and picked up a jar. You barely realized when Katsuki’s expression had turned into a sneer and he’d stood up from the table without missing a beat.

“Beat it half n’ half.”

“But, it’s lunch,” Shoto stared at him blankly.

And just like that, it was like nothing had happened. Again.

.

.

.

Lunch consisted of peanut butter and jam sandwiches (because Katsuki had argued that you couldn’t refer to his jam as jelly — even though they were basically the same thing), and earned you the nickname “strawberry shortcake” when you dropped jam on your shirt. 

(“Didn’t ya say you were obsessed with strawberries?” Katsuki smirked when you asked him where it came from.)

Eijirou called after lunch to let you know that the car wasn’t able to be fixed and that Sero wanted to buy it so he could use some of the parts. The news wasn’t that surprising, since your parents had bought it second hand as soon as you got your driver's license when you turned sixteen and that you were now a rising senior in college; and after a quick phone call to your parents to let them know about the situation, they agreed the best thing to do would be selling it so you could buy a new car.

You didn’t even notice when the sun began hanging low in the sky — and the afternoon turned to evening. 

It was during dinner that you realized that you probably wouldn’t get a chance to see anyone ever again. Even if you hadn’t spent time with Shoto or Izuku — it was easy to see how nice and welcoming they were. It led to the four of you (Katsuki tagged along too) laying outside beside a small campfire and drinking beer, trading stories as if you’d known each other your entire life.

It was fun to learn about their lives in a small town: how everyone had practically known each other by the time they were five and all the shenanigans they would get up to. They told you about their other friends, the ones who’d moved away for bigger opportunities in bigger cities — and you noticed the way Katsuki’s face seemed to fall when the topic was brought up, even though he hid it by sipping on his beer quietly.

Both Shoto and Izuku eventually waved their goodbyes when they got up to go to bed, in the case that they wouldn’t be able to see in the morning if they were too busy, leaving you and Katsuki to quietly sip beer by the flames in comfortable silence.

“It’s weird to think that I won’t see you again,” you murmured after a while. The couple of beers you drank seemed to loosen the restraint your mind was holding on your mouth, and you stared up at the sky after a moment when he didn’t answer. “I won’t get the chance to be here again.”

Katsuki hummed in response, watching as you began tracing out constellations with your finger, muttering the names to yourself in the exact stupid way Deku used to. But, he wasn’t annoyed when you did it.

“Can I ask you something?” you turned to him suddenly, watching as he put his beer down.

“Shoot.”

“Why was your mood changing all day?”

“What d’you mean?” he blinked.

“Like, it felt like we were close at times — but then you’d seem angry again,” you looked back up at the sky and sighed before trailing off. “I just, I thought…”

“I heard you yest’rday.” 

You snapped back to where Katsuki was staring at the ground.

“No one’s compared my eyes to strawberries before,” he commented. “Usually it’s rubies n’ other shit.”

“You heard?”

“M’pretty sure everyone heard shortcake,” he chuckled. “You were fuckin’ yappin’ at the top of yer lungs.”

“I was not!” you huffed. You could feel your face burning up as you huffed and turned away.

It remained silent for another minute or two before Katsuki spoke again.

“Back in highschool, I was with someone,” he started. “And I thought we were gonna stay like that — that she was gonna go away for college and come back so we could get married. I proposed to her, and she said no and left.” He looked back up and you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “You– uh, I guess you reminded me of her a little.”

You could only blink in response to his confession, watching the light from the fire dance off his face as he stared almost wistfully off into the distance.

“I do think, that uh, yer…pretty, or whatever,” he coughed out. “But, it’s not permanent. Yer gonna go back tomorrow and eventually forget.”

It was silent again, the sound of the crackling fire remnant of his car’s old air conditioning.

“You don’t know that,” you finally spoke hesitantly, scooting across the log to where he was sitting. 

He looked up at those words, his eyes scanning your face, your expressions, the way you’d placed yourself so easily next to him.

“And even if I don’t stay here, it’s not like there’s no way to contact you — or even see you again. You live a couple hours from me, and you come to farmer’s markets there,” you paused, gathering your thoughts before you looked back up at him and the soft look on his face. “Katsuki… whatever she did — I’m not her.”

Maybe the beer had a larger effect on you than you thought it did — you weren’t one to admit something like that as easily as you just did, but it was probably a combination of the hazy spell your mind was experiencing as well as the intoxicating atmosphere of the night. You could feel your heart jump in your chest as Katsuki just stared at you, his eyes flicking down ever so often until he moved himself closer to you, his hand hovering just above your cheek as you inhaled his scent once more.

“...may I kiss you?” he whispered.

You nodded slightly, shocked, before he’d pressed his lips up against yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. You could taste the beer on him as his hands rose and cupped your cheeks gently, his thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks as yours tangled around his neck, playing with the back of his hair.

He took that as an invitation to pull you closer, pulling you up onto his lap with his arms wrapped around your waist and rubbing small strokes up the small of your back — melting into each other as sugar does into jam, slowly and gently and passionately through small touches and gazes. 

When you finally pulled away for air, you could see the flush of his face as he stared up at the sky and panted, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Damn shortcake,” you heard the smirk in his voice — though it didn’t seem to be as cocky as you would’ve expected. “You know how to kiss.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you murmured into his chest, feeling the rumble as he let out a short chuckle.

“Nothin’,” he pulled away for a second, and you noticed him grabbing something from his jean pocket.

In the light of the fire, he showed you his beaten leather wallet, with cracks and scratches — pulling out a fifty dollar bill that he then handed to you.

“What’s this for?” you sat up, your head leaning against his shoulder.

“S’the money you gave Ei,” he flipped it over, revealing a phone number on the other side, before looking away in embarrassment. “I was gonna give it to ya tomorrow when I dropped ya off — Ei suggested it.”

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle to the red that was rising on his face, becoming even more flushed than he had been when he kissed you.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “Now I can call you on your ancient phone.”

“Yeah, well, now I can teach ya how to make strawberry shortcake.”

If I ever become a Vtuber I am getting these emotes ♡

Hello Kitty emotes 💗