Nice Receive!!

sunlight

pro heroes meeting their feisty, mcbling gf

♱ bakugou, kirishima, midoriya, dabi

♱ pt.2 here pt.3 here

note: it’s me, i’m the feisty mcbling gf 😞

Katsuki has been on shift for what feels like hours. In reality… well it has been hours. He’s been patrolling a smaller, more mundane part of Tokyo, where all he’s done is help little old ladies with their groceries and scold kids for trying to steal candy.

He was dying to get home.

So, when he heard a scream five minutes from patrol ending, the groan he let out was loud, unprofessional and frankly, really douche-y of him. But still, he flew towards the alley it echoed from.

He turned the corner, expecting a damsel in distress…

Only to see you.

Beating a man with a Juicy Couture suede bag, wobbling on platform sandals.

While this man lets out the girliest, highest-pitched screams Katsuki has ever heard in his life.

“That’s.” Hit. “What.” Hit. “You.” Hit. “Get!” Big hit!

Katsuki blinks out of his trance and takes a booming step toward you. “What the fuck’s goin on?”

You gasp and look up, and Katsuki swears his heart is echoing out of his chest.

Your s/c skin is everywhere, from your jean shorts to the cleavage practically spilling out your leopard print zip-up, and as you straighten up, he catches a glimpse of a belly ring that makes him gulp.

Your hair frames your face with a pair of sunglasses at the top of your head, showing off a fantastic scowl. Glittery eyes are met with furrowed brows, decorated with piercings-galore on your face, and two big hoops either side of your head.

“This prick!” You punctuate it with a nudge of your painted-pink toe, “Tried to rob me! I kneed him in his tiny balls.”

Katsuki raises a brow. You take a minute to glare at the guy, still whimpering, before you strut towards him with narrowed eyes.

You hate to admit it, but Dynamight was hotter in real life. Soot is smeared on his cheek and the scowl on his face sends his ruby-red lasers shooting through you.

“What? You have a staring problem?” You ask with a hand on your hip. Every ounce of confidence you’re letting off is soooo clearly fake right now, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He shakes his head and looks around you to the poor guy on the floor. He’s not going anywhere, still curled up in a feral position and cradling his nads.

Katsuki sweats.

“Alright, sweetheart-”

You try to pretend it doesn’t make your heart skip a beat.

“Sweetheart?” He freezes and looks down at your cocked brow. “At least take me out for a drink first, Mr. Dynamight, c’mon.”

He clears his throat awkwardly, “Shit- sorry, I didn’t- look, you’re okay, right? No injuries?”

You’re inspecting your nails at this point, trying to avoid looking at the muscles in his hero costume. “Huh? Nah, but he should probably get checked out. Am I good to go?”

You sound eager to leave, but you make no move to when he nods.

Instead, you stand, scrutinising him with crossed arms. Katsuki hates to admit it, but even standing a whole foot taller than you, you’re making the blond blush.

“Okay, what? You need somethin’?” He gruffly says.

You glance back at the idiot still on the floor, and he flinches at your gaze.

“You don’t need my number for a report or somethin’?”

The words leave your mouth sooner than you can stop them, but you keep your face cool as your turn around. God, you need a smoke after this.

Katsuki’s hearts skips a beat, but his lip quirks up and he huffs out a chuckle. He reaches into one his pockets, and passes you his phone.

He’s still blushing, but God that man is grinning as well.

:::

Eijiro is mid-lat pulldown when he hears you through the full blast of his headphones. Being the manly pro he is, he takes an earbud out to hear the commotion.

“When I say fuck off, I mean fuck off! What part of that isn’t get through your thick skull?”

Eijiro watched as you scream in a steroid-fueled gym-bro’s face. You’re jabbing a pink nail in his chest, neon pink shorts matching to a sports bra and a small hoodie on your top half.

He gets off the machine, and a loud clang echoes through the gym - you don’t even notice.

“What, too much muscle blocking your brain from working?”

The guy is getting ready to respond, an ugly, violent grimace on his face. As Eijiro steps behind you and crosses his arms, the guy thinks twice.

He nods at you, and turns away, practically running.

You huff and tuck a loose piece of hair behind your hair.

“What was that?”

You jump at the voice and spin around with a shout. A chest- Jesus Christ, he’s tall. You’re face-to-chest with a man covered in muscle, a sharp-toothed smile and spiky, red hair to match it.

“Oh!”

…

…

He raises a brow and smiles at you.

A blush is fighting it’s way onto your face, but you’re too cool for that. Way too cool. So you clear your throat and stop staring at his adorable face for a minute.

“He wasn’t taking no for an answer,” You huff and cross your arms.

Eijiro frowns, “Shit, that sucks. Do you come here often?”

…

It’s your turn to raise a brow.

His face turns as red as his hair when he realises how stupid that sounded. It’s weirdly endearing watching such a large man blush and panic in front of you.

“N-no, like, I can get him banned if you’re a regular. I know the owners, so-”

“Where do I know you from?” You cut him off, doing mental gymnastics.

Eijiro freezes as he watches you. Your thick lashes touch your brows as you go wide-eyed, staring at him intently. So intently, he’s terrified to move a muscle.

You click your fingers and point a sparkly nail at his chest, “Red Riot! I knew I recognised you from somewhere.”

He grins and shrugs. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I mean,” You trail off for a minute, using all your self-restraint to not blush or stutter in front of this fine-ass man, “if you ever wanted to come to rescue again, I could just give you my number?”

Eijiro has never grabbed his phone faster in his life.

:::

Izuku has been caught in the midst of little fans. Children are detaching themselves from parents, flying away from friend groups to crowd around for his autograph. He’s reminded again why he always wears a cap and glasses when he goes to the mall.

He just needed to pick up a pair of boxers, for Gods sake.

A little boy comes hurtling at him, but such is the norm. What he doesn’t see is the girl sprinting after him- sprinting in platform heels that is.

Jeans cling to you tighter than your zebra print top, and the tiny handbag on your shoulder keeps slipping down. Every step you take is a loud jingle with the massive array of jewellery you have on, and star-shaped clips in your hair keep slipping out.

“Deku! You’re the coole-”

“Isamu! Get back here!” You screech. Your sister was going to kill you if she knew the one time you took your nephew out for a little trip to the mall, you lost him.

Watching him talk to a stranger was almost the cherry on top.

You come to a skidding stop, somehow not hurtling over on your open-toed death machines, and grab the 5 year old by the armpits. Isamu let’s out an excited shriek and smiles at you.

Then he points to the guy.

That guy being the number one hero in Japan.

You nearly drop your nephew.

“Oh my God-”

“I’m so sorry-”

You both speak at the same time, then shut up, and just stare at each other like two idiots. He’s not in his costume - duh, idiot, he’s at the mall?- but he looks just as good as he does with his face plastered all over Tokyo.

Strong arms are straining the seams of his black shirt, and his dark hair is brushing the nape of his neck- it looks so soft-

“I’m really sorry, I should have come out with my hat on, sunglasses-”

“Please do not apologise for looking that good,” You mutter and roll your eyes. Then you freeze. Then you both look at each other, while you nibble your lip and smear your lipgloss everywhere.

“Deku! Can I have your auto map!” Isamu screeches from your arms, wiggling like a worm. It’s getting hard to hold him, so you plop him down and hold his hand instead.

“Autograph, buddy, not auto map,” You whisper in his ear.

Izuku’s heart skips a beat. You are gorgeous, silly and amazing with kids- I mean, what else could he really ask for?

He nods and crouched to Isamu’s height.

“Who am I making it out to, then?”

Isamu screams his government name so loud you want to cover your ears, but you just smile awkwardly at Izuku crouching under you.

He looks at you with his big, doe eyes and a soft smile. “What about you?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want an autograph-”

“Your name?”

Oh shit. You mutter it and watch with a smile as the pro scrawls on a notebook he miraculously pulled out from his arse. His round, perky-

“There you go, Isamu. It was great meeting you,” He pats your nephew’s head, who is practically beaming. “It was nice meeting you too, Y/n,” he adds, and turns away with a wave.

As you walk away, Isamu thrusts the paper in your hand.

“LOOK AT IT AUNTIE Y/N!!”

‘if it’s not too forward, id like you text me sometime y/n :)’ and next to the note is his number.

Cheeky bitch.

:::

Dabi has no fucking idea how he ended up in a bar blasting Kesha from the speakers with millennial women screaming ‘this was my party song!’ but he hates it.

Until he sees you.

You’re in the tiniest jean skirt he’s ever seen, and your ass cheeks are so close to popping out. If you’d just stopped swaying your hips and bend over, he’d get a glimpse-

But you turn around, and he watches you twist and turn in a matching halter top, jewellery adding rhythms to the music.

Dabi swears he has never seen anything as captivating as your baby pink lips mouth along to Die Young. God, was he really thinking that? In relation to Kesha? You must be special, he thinks to himself.

He makes no move, though. He sits at the bar, watching you tip back fruity cocktails and teeter on your fur-covered boots.

He looks away for a second, he swears, and suddenly you’re on the bar stool next to him. Not just sat, but staring. Like, blatantly staring right at him.

He mirrors you, leaning on his palm and watching you.

You’d be lying if you tried to say his cerulean eyes weren’t doing something to you, but there were more pressing issues at hand.

“You’ve been staring at me all night.”

It’s a fact, he has been.

A smile curls onto his lips, and he shifts so he’s closer to you. “Have I? Didn’t notice…”

You’re drunk. Like, much too drunk, because his face is a blur- a handsome blur though. You are aware enough to tell he’s staring at your tits, though.

You click your fingers in his face and he looks back up at you. There’s a moment on his face where he looks shocked, but a bigger smirk replaces it.

“Sorry, hun-”

“Hun? What am I, 5?”

He leans forward, and the overwhelming stench of a beach fire is fighting with your Britney Spears perfume. The air starts to smell like burnt sugar around you, and it’s weirdly compelling.

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“Well, you’ll need my number to call me.”

It takes you a minute to realise how dumb that was- you’re drunk and that is not what he meant, but it made him drop the cool boy act. He stared at you for a second with wide eyes before chuckling under his breath.

“You are somethin’, princess…”

“Princess?”

“Yeah, the skirt and all the pink- very princessy,” He gestured to your outfit before pulling out… a burner phone.

You really should not have drank that much, because you don’t even care to question it as you’re typing you digits in.

note: ffs i didn’t make izuku’s gf feisty enough 😞

My mom and I watching Haikyuu again:

Mom: why are you crying?

Me, knowing she's not aware of the timeskip and I am: nothing

Me inside: Hinata's Journey shows the evolution of a young, loud but still very insecure boy into a mature proud and talented player, with all its high moments but also the lows, proving his devotion and determination, showing his incredible growth: the ball boy arc is a major turning point for him to go from a teen enamoured by a big stage (nationals, the view from the top) into a teen that sees the true depth of the sport he is trying to master, and is an arc that causes valuable introspection, leading him his eventual decision to go to Brazil and work ok his technique, because he does recognize that he, as a player, has many flaws and that his attack by itself won't get him very far. Hinata goes from an impulse child to a young man that thinks, asking for his coaches and trusted adults for help instead of barging into Brazil like he did with the training Camp at Shiratorizawa. Meanwhile, Hinata is also growing from a pipsqueak with a head full of dreams and a mouth full of promises, who will do anything he can think of to get to his goals, into the man that makes those dreams and promises come true, who puts his well being over the need to be the greatest, which ends up making him the greatest indeed. Throughout all of this he keeps those dreams and promises, he keeps his positivity, pulling himself up from his lows (that tearwrenching panel that had all of us sitting in the corner with out sun boy). Hinata is still Hinata, capable of lighting up a stadium with a smile and a fist thrown up in the air. His goals are the same, what changes is the way he goes about them.

So Hinata, the player changes, and Hinata, the person, grows. And that's why he goes from a green jersey to a red jersey, they're opposite colours for players of opposite level and technique. And that's also why his number 10 ends up being the same, because Hinata and his dream remain the same.

this dude with a gun is so...?? with his jacked ahh body + that baby face of his? giggling he's too funny and cute

LOOK AT HIM

HE IS SO CONFIDENT

HE FEELS GREAT

HE HAS KNIFES AND GUNS AND KYAAAAA

i’m sure someone has already said it. but i’m rewatching and it’s all i can fucking think

they keep calling it the “freak quick” it’s not my fault

Captains💦

Oikawa, Kuroo and Bokuto

🏐.

LMFAOJSISHEWKNA

I know Oikawa hates Kageyama and Ushiwaka for being geniuses or whatever but it's just really really funny to me to imagine that Oikawa just hates autistic people

— to the wind

teaching is hard. seeing izuku so distressed is harder.

word count: 2.1k

“knock knock.”

izuku sat, head in hand, at his desk. the windows in his classroom hung open, letting the cool breeze sweep through his already messy tufts of hair.

the distressed figure lifted his eyes to meet yours as you stood in the doorway of his class.

three years of teaching together and your routine had become pretty regular. coffee in the morning, passing each other in the hall as you somehow always took a bathroom break at the same time, lunch with the occasional shared grading, and the after school drama debrief until the custodians had to kick you out. high school kids always kept the stories coming to make an entertaining day for the both of you.

lunch was the current time. typically you would find him hanging on the door to your classroom, but instead, he sat ruggedly at his desk. a pencil shoved in his mouth to keep him from chewing his fingers.

izuku’s very obviously tired features lit up when he realized who it was that spoke from his doorway.

“oh, hey.” he responded with a drowsy demeanor.

this was different. and not a good different. as annoying as it was, you were typically the one shut up in your classroom, stewing over time consuming things like grades, itineraries, and everything else in between. izuku was the bright light that shone down on your horrid mindsets, bringing you back to a warm place, if even for a small time. you weren’t used to his personality being so…lackluster.

“you good?”

a long, heavy sigh travelled from his mouth and around the room, filling the already wind soaked air. izuku leaned back into his cushioned chair, pushing his hair back with a large hand. his restless eyes landed on the absolute mountain of paper in front of him and he drew his lips into a tight line. this was his way of communicating silently to you his very issue.

“i feel lost.” midoriya admitted hesitantly.

your feet moved on their own, taking you to sit crisscross on top of a student’s desk that was placed directly in front of his. like always, izuku now had your full attention.

“lost over what?”

he shrugged his shoulders haphazardly, his eyes still stuck on the papers strewn across his desk. this wasn’t a new sight to you or anyone else. izuku was notorious for keeping copious amount of clutter stashed away on his desk that already had limited space. with a brain that went as fast as his all day every day, he found it difficult to find the time to focus on cleaning a meaningless surface when he had countless other things to stress himself out over. but even this was over the top compared to the usual jumbled items.

“it’s just some grades, izuku. i can help you like usual. we can knock it out in no time.” you tried to reassure him.

when he shook his head in response, his stare still fixated on the pile, your stomach turned uncomfortably. midoriya was never one to decline an offer from you. especially because of the system you both subconsciously abided by. in times like this, if one of you offered help then typically the other would buy food, as a treat. after school dinners were a regular occurrence in your relationship.

“it’s not the grades.” his voice was low, “well, i mean, a little bit but, y’know.”

“i actually don’t know. you’re staring holes in those damn papers so i can’t really read you right now.”

your words snapped him out of the weird trance he had found himself in. the wind still blew lightly through his decorated class. the entire room screamed ‘izuku midoriya’. his personality was intertwined seamlessly with his own students’ personal flair. if you were still in school, izuku would have been the teacher you told your future kids about. maybe even been the teacher you thanked in your wedding speech.

the way you perched on the desk in front of his, completely enthralled with your concern for him, made his mouth run dry. even with your expression screwed up with confusion, he could still make out the features on your face that he had reluctantly grown to adore. not a single added wrinkle could deter him, even if that wrinkle was because of a face you directed at him. izuku could feel the guilt brewing in his gut.

“if i asked you something, could you be one hundred percent honest with me?” he asked.

“when am i not?” you responded nonchalantly, your chin resting in a propped hand.

the light chuckle that came from midoriya put your nerves at ease for a single moment. if you could give him an answer in hopes of never having to see him like this again, then you would gladly tell him whatever he wanted to hear.

“am i a bad teacher?”

silence permeated the warm room as you processed his question. in all the years you’d not only been his coworker, but his friend, the thought of him being a bad teacher never even made a shadow in your mind. years of stumbling over yourself to try and be a fraction of who he was as a teacher and a person made this question seem like the stupidest thing you’d ever heard.

“in what world are you a bad teacher?”

izuku crossed his arms onto his desk, leaning his head down as a way to hide from the world.

“what if i’m not doing enough?” his words seemed strained.

“izuku, what the hell are you talking about?”

had a student made a snide comment? maybe a rude gesture? the kids in both of your classes weren’t horrible but they definitely weren’t angels either. the idea of izuku overthinking a mean word from a high schooler seemed totally plausible.

“i’m scared that not a single word i say gets through to them. like, what if they walk out of here when they graduate, stupider than when they came in?” he asked, “not that they were stupid or anything when they came in, y’know, i’m just saying from a general standpo—“

“chill. you’re rambling right now.” you interrupted, which was something you had to do often.

another sigh left his mouth and he turned to gawk out the window. the trees were a beautiful shade of orange, but you weren’t looking at them. you couldn’t. not when midoriya was sitting right in front of you.

“i’m fucking terrified that i’m failing them.” he kept his gaze to the trees that danced in the wind, “i sit here and talk all day, which they don’t care about. grade their papers, which are scarcely up to par. am i doing something wrong? is there more i could be doing to make them want to be here?”

there it was; the classic teacher complex. you would be lying if you said you didn’t have these same aching doubts. any teacher that said otherwise was either perfect or a grade A moron.

“well first of all, you aren’t failing anyone. you’re a great person and an even greater teacher.” you slid off of the place you sat and walked to his desk, leaning on it carefully. you looked out of the window with him, your arms crossed tightly across your chest. “and second of all, those are all normal feelings. i mean, i feel the same almost seventy five percent of the time.”

he shifted his gaze to look at you, his eyes settling on the back of your head, staring in disbelief. he wished he could be as great at his job as you were. your tendency to connect with anyone and everyone brought a sense of jealousy to his mind nearly every day. although, he couldn’t pinpoint why. it’s not like he had trouble in that department.

he took things too seriously, gave himself a hard time over the smallest of things and overthought every situation. izuku was jealous of your ability to fly from the seat of your pants and say ‘fuck it’ if things went awry. granted, it wasn’t fun for you most of the time, but sometimes no plan is better than a strict step by step. this ideal had started to rub off on izuku after so much time spent together, but it was still a work in progress. he was just happy to have a part of you within his own personality at all times.

“yeah, but—“

“there’s no but. that’s just the way it is.” you cut him short.

a third sigh. this was the most exasperated you’d ever seen him. he stood from his comfy chair and leaned on the side of the desk with you. he admired the way the sunlight from the window perfectly complemented your features, outlining your natural beauty utterly and completely.

“you’re a fucking fantastic teacher. you can’t beat yourself up over things that are out of your control.” you turned to meet his eyes, “the kids are here and you’re guiding them. that’s all that matters. the mistakes you feel like you’re making in between won’t mean anything in the next year, let alone tomorrow.”

big green eyes stayed glued to yours, appreciation emanating from his pupils. you always knew exactly what to say, even if your words didn’t fall under the ‘advice’ category half the time.

you uncrossed an arm from your chest to rub comforting circles into your friends’ back. izuku’s muscles immediately loosened under your touch, the tenseness he’d held since this morning melting under your fingertips. he could never have a bad day, not when he knew you were just next door. not when he had the times he would see you written on a sticky note hidden in his desk drawer. after 3 years of faking a bathroom break just to take a glance at you in the hall, he knew you meant more to him than just as a coworker.

a smile sprawled across your face when midoriya gently laid his head on your shoulder with another large sigh. your hand traveled to play with the hair that grew from the back of his head.

“you hungry?”

midoriya nodded his head in response, humming softly as your fingertips lightly toyed with green tufts of hair.

“what did you bring today?” you already knew the answer, but you always asked anyhow.

“you’re actually never going to guess.” he lifted his head to look at you through his lashes.

“let me guess, anyway.”

izuku raised his eyebrows, as if saying ‘please do’ as he watched you feign confusion while you thought.

“hmm, katsudon?”

he shook his head, leaving your jaw to drop open in complete shock.

“you’re joking. since when do you not bring katsudon?”

“since i forgot my lunch at home this morning.”

maybe four other times had he forgot his food, and it was either because he woke up late or was already thinking so much the moment he woke up that his packed lunch slipped his mind.

“that kind of day, huh?” you asked.

“yeah. that kind of day.” he said, his head hung low.

you didn’t spare a word when you walked away from your spot on his desk, leaving the room quickly. midoriya watched after you, his eyes stuck to the door you just walked out of. everyday, he was thankful with how quickly you introduced yourself to him when you both started this job. neither of you could get through a day of teaching if it wasn’t for the other.

the wind caught your hair perfectly as you walked back in, bringing a stupid grin to his already awestruck face.

“tada! lunch is served, my kind fellow.”

there sat your all too familiar lunch box, open and ready to be emptied.

“y/n, i’m not going to to eat yo—“

“the bell is going to ring in 9 minutes and i’m starving. so you can either eat this with me or have your kids make fun of the noises your stomach makes when you’re hungry.” you pulled a chair around to the front of his desk, “you pick.”

a staring standoff that lasted for maybe 6 seconds, leaving you the winner, elicited yet another sigh from your coworker as he walked to his seat and plopped into it.

midoriya carefully eyed you as you brought out item after item, almost as if you packed extra just in case. you both took hold of the plastic forks you’d grabbed from the drawer of your desk. he could tell this was your way of comforting him, and you could tell this was his way of saying thank you. no extra words were needed when you could already read each other well enough.

“anything interesting happen yet?” you asked expectantly, forking a bit of your lunch into your mouth.

“june and lucas broke up.” he laughed out.

there was the man you adored. a smile plastered beautifully on his face as he happily told you about his day so far. you would never let that disappear again.

you listened intently to every word that came from his mouth, both of your shoes playing footsies under his desk.

a/n: okay yeah high school teacher izuku is perfect and hot but i’m about to write a book about elementary school teacher izuku because in my mind that’s literally my husband FAWWWKKKAHG

ちゅパワー！💋