Katsuki Bakugou X F!reader

katsuki bakugou x f!reader

➪ wc: 11.2k+ || minors dni 18+

➪ warnings/tags: timeskip! pro hero! bkg (late twenties), horse farm setting (pls refer to my notes), use of the first person in diary entries, reader has a quirk, slow burn, slight enemies to lovers, angst and arguments, reader injuries (bc bkg is dumb), happy ending (pinky promise), a lot of slang, accents and swearing (broken english, almost), mentions of death from quirk incidents, mentions of animal death, oral sex (f. receiving), loss of virginity, doll as a pet name, reader has a whole lot of personality, improper science (nitroglycerin as a cheat code lol), bkg is ultra soft with a bleeding heart and I can't think of anything else

➪ notes: alright. let me start by saying this work is the equivalent of me walking into a room of people, stark naked, and just going like: "hi, it's me!" genuinely, that is this work. the experiences touched upon in this fic are all from real ones I've had working with horses growing up. it's a very sacred part of my life and world, and recently I've felt myself drifting from it because of the career path I've decided to take. so, I wrote this because I felt like I'd be hiding from myself if I didn't, and I wanted to face it all without running away as I'd planned. honestly, I just missed it all so much. wow, that sounds dramatic. it most definitely is. anyway, this work might be confusing to read at some points, and that's intended. horse slang, if that's what we're calling it, is used heavily without much explanation. it's because you're supposed to read this fic from katsuki's perspective, almost—it shouldn't always make sense. but the human parts will, I hope. regardless, I hope it hits all just the same. please enjoy. this one's from my heart to yours. mwah.

➪ a/n: the biggest hug, kiss, and thank you to oz for being there every step of the way through this one. it was a fifteen-hour escapade of madness. love you.

extra smut from this au!!!: make it a thousand and one

Wednesday

It felt like a storm was coming, but it didn't. Just hot, muggy, and gross. The horses felt the same. Misty started pawing at the gate after an hour in the pasture, and like the trendsetter she is, all the others followed in tearing up the grass. She's a diva, but I don't blame her. If I was forced to bear three foals at my prime age and deal with kids kicking on my back and pulling at my mouth all day, I'd probably be the same or worse. Poor thing—all of them, really. Poor animals only learning to live after they're finally too old to actually do it. People are evil, and horses are horses, I guess.

They know it too. Each time I get a new horse, I have to think they do. They give me this look before stepping off the trailer, this "You're my last stop, aren't you?" kind of glare, and then drop and roll in their stall like they're fluffing their grave. Whatever. Gotta be better than real retirement homes with real ass people. People get aggressive and senile when they're old, and horses just get... happy, for once. No pressure on their back, a mouth full of overgrown grass, and happy. Lucky fuckers. I wanna grow old and happy and not throw shoes at a nurse because I think she might be Satan in my bedroom, trying to shove a pill down my throat. How ridiculous. I don't want to grow old. I'll let one of these horses whip me into the ground before it happens. The last rodeo, and maybe one of the barn cats could—

This is getting grotesque. Anyway, it felt like a storm was coming, but it didn't. One is most definitely coming tomorrow, though. Gotta bring the horses in early, or they might get rain rot, and that's always the worst.

Thursday

It rained and poured. Blondie dared to look at me like it was my fault. Horrible first impression. Who the fuck walks into someone's barn and goes, "It smells like shit in here"? Like, yeah? Yeah, it does. It's a barn, asshole. I really didn't think Shouta was serious when he asked if someone could crash here, but then, of course, he's always serious, so I guess that makes me the idiot. Brought him down in his black city car, tossed him out like bad news, then dipped. He was probably too pissed to come out—got his tires all muddy and shit. I don't know why people expect a barn to not be a fucking barn. So now I have twenty-four horses and a big slab of a certified prick in the guest room to watch over, all thanks to being nice and saying yes. I'll never be nice again. I've learned my lesson.

At the very least, he's kind of cute in a grumpy puppy sort of way. He speaks at full volume, though, so that was our first problem. Either the horses are spooking, or my ears will start ringing, and I can't handle both. He finally shut up after he realized I wasn't going to fight back. You gotta feel dumb yelling at the lady letting you stay in her house surrounded by a bunch of horses staring right back at you. I hope he felt dumb. Asshole.

Then he got all quiet and weird and started backing near Gus's dutch door, and I almost let him bite him. It could have been funny, but then I remembered he's a firecracker and would probably blow Gussie's face off with his fucking palm by accident. A ticking time bomb. Blond and ticking and pissed off at the rain. At the very least, he's cute.

Friday

I'm allowed to call him Katsuki. That's either a privilege, or maybe he doesn't want to be reminded that he's a hero while surrounded by the fields and the wind whispering that it doesn't give a fuck who he is. When he's here, he's just the guy I spent an hour explaining how to work the tracker to.

I said it's like a giant lawn mower that doesn't cut grass, just carries the hay bales and drops shit to the compost. That didn't help. I don't think the man has ever mowed a lawn in his life or really driven much, to begin with. That has to be the downfall of being a star so young, then being forced to continue shining. When you look at it like that, he's like the horses. Fresh off the track or suspensory blown because some greedy asshole thought a pony could jump three foot six easily. I don't pity him, though. My neck sprained again from his cocky rooky sway. Never being nice again. It's gonna be the death of me.

I was barebacking Dreamer, just walking around the indoor 'cause it was too hot to be under the sun today, and then like a bat out of hell, comes Katsuki on the tracker without warning. So, of course, Dreamer spun me off. And, of course, I fell off because, of course, I did. Then it was a mess. Dreamer's freaking out, and Blondie's freaking out too because he thinks I'm dead. He went all hero on me, literally blasted himself toward my body on the ground like it'd help. Dreamer lost his shit because, of course, he did—running around and crying like a bomb went off. Then the bomb that did go off is hovering over me and not letting me get up, saying I might have broken something. I wanted to slap him. I would have if he wasn't so cute. It's a crime to bust a pretty face.

Finally, he moved, and I could breathe again. I knew my neck was sprained because it's my fourth time and the feeling never really changes. But you gotta get back on, no matter what, especially while the adrenaline is still fresh and it doesn't hurt too bad yet. It was embarrassing to baby-talk a horse off the ledge in front of Katsuki. I knew he was judging me the whole time, could feel his cat eyes on my neck and its scruff. But it works, so fuck him.

He grabbed my wrist after realizing what I was doing on my way back to the mounting block. I told him that if I didn't get back on the horse would be traumatized, that you can't ever end a ride badly, or they only ever know bad to start. He said, "Fuck the horse. He hurt you." I wish I covered Dreamer's ears and maybe my own. Ignorance is the ugliest song I've ever known.

I told him to leave, and after three minutes of staring at him, he finally did. It hurt like hell to get back on. The adrenaline was gone at that point. Blondie must have taken it with him.

Saturday

I don't think Katsuki thinks I'm cute. Maybe it's the neck brace that turns him off or the fact that we don't get along about anything. It doesn't really matter anyway. He's not gonna be here forever—thank God. When he leaves, it'll be easier to get shit done again. You'd think having an extra pair of hands and muscles would help, but it doesn't. He doesn't fit here. He should, he could, but he doesn't. He doesn't know how to not be himself, and the horses don't know how to not take it offensively.

But he's getting better. Still don't know why he's here, doubt I'll ever find out, but he's here and better. He helped do the meds today—held all the syringes and pills like a walking pouting pharmacy. He kept yelling whenever I turned my head, reminding me of my neck and how I was only gonna make it worse, like I couldn't feel the fucking pull of it myself. It kind of felt nice. It's been so long since I've been around people, I realized. He's probably the worst one to attempt to get used to.

But he's alright. Not as loud, and maybe it's because he does think I'm cute and is scared he might get me fucked up for real if he's not careful. I wanna be cute to him, somehow. It's probably impossible because he's seen me at my worst too early, sweaty and smeared with dirt like a doormat. I could be a cute doormat, though. I hope I am.

Sunday

He has the loudest thunder of a laugh. I deserve a gold star for getting it out of him too. It wasn't even that hard or that funny, but it got him to his knees, and it was fun to look down at him for once.

I was grooming Danny, trying to show Katsuki how it's done—use the curry comb to loosen the dirt, the stiffer bristles to get it out, the softer brush to polish the coat off. Then came the hoof picking. I leaned into Danny's shoulder, got his hoof in my palm, and started lecturing Blondie. "You wanna avoid picking at the frog. It's like their cuticle," I said, knowing damn well he didn't know what the fuck I was talking about. Sometimes it's just fun to do that to him—use words he doesn't know and let his pride shut him up, too scared to ask. He probably didn't even notice because Danny went and nearly took a chunk out of my butt. That had him hollering.

"He fuckin' bit your ass," he said. I was so embarrassed if I'm honest. I didn't wanna be like, "Yeah, well, sometimes he just does that," and throw Danny under the bus and get him all embarrassed too. The old man's almost twenty-three, all greyed and withered. I've known him since he still held color, so I thought he'd have my back. I just said, "He didn't mean to," like an idiot, and then on cue, Danny, a fucking traitor, goes for it again, and it hurts too. I've never heard a man laugh so hard. It's a good sound—a warm one. Made my skin all hot, sticky, and gross.

Then he just kept laughing, clutching his washboard of a stomach like it could even recoil under all that muscle, dropping to the ground. I started laughing too just to hear what I sounded like with him. I think it's the first time we shared something together besides dinner in silence.

Monday

Katsuki learned how to figure eight a bridle today. It looked like shit, of course, but he learned. He's got these big ass hands, so it was entertaining to watch, too—kept fumbling with the leather straps 'cause they're too tiny for his grip. It was kind of hot, annoyingly, made it hard to focus on anything but those stupid hands.

He must have been curious today because he asked so many goddamn questions. I answered them all, too, just to hear him talk more. He asked if I'm alone out here, and I said yes. Then he gave me this look like it was the wrong answer 'cause he was right there next to me, so I'm not alone. I had to give him a look back to remind him that he's not out here, that he's just roleplaying the modest life.

Then Winston started colicing, and it all went to shit from there. I called Doc, trying to stay calm under the heat of Katsuki's dying curiosity and confusion, drinking in my alarm like a shotgun of beer. I knew the answer before he picked up, but Winston and Katsuki were watching me, so I had to pretend to have hope for them. He'd already had too many surgeries, and Doc said it'd be too dangerous to open him back up, cruel even. He offered to come down, but Winston blew his nose, started chewing again, and just gave me this look. My heart nearly shattered. Horses are intelligent creatures, sometimes too much for their own good. I told Doc that Winston wanted to see this one out by himself, and then he sighed on the line, apologized, and told me to call again when he needed to be picked up. I said, "Of course," and hung up.

It'll be hard to see that one go. He's gotta be the sweetest one here, bay with four white socks, a thick white blaze down his nose. Winston used to be a star when he was younger. He won everywhere he went, helped a lot of kids stay out of trouble with his gut issues and kind eyes. He's a loved horse, loved by so many. Of course, they're all gone now, moved on and grown up, working adult jobs and scrunching their noses at the mud. So he came to me like a treasured childhood teddy bear—all crushed from being sat on for too many car trips by accident, a new figure in the kid's grip.

I hate to lose any of them. Sometimes I wish I didn't love them so much. But I have to, and I will. I'll always be the girl that picks them up in her two-horse trailer, trudging them and their memories and fears behind the truck, feeling the weight of their years bounce on my lap over each train track we pass. I'll be the one who remembers them and loves them to the end, and they'll be the specks of hair I can't ever get out of my clothes, the ache in my neck, and the tug at my heart.

God, if you're real, please don't let Winston die just yet. I want him to stay just a little longer. Please. He may be ready, but I'm not.

Tuesday

Tuesday's empty still. Katsuki stares at the page anyway—like words will magically appear. He knows he shouldn't be here in your room, diary in his grip, head flooding with your thoughts. But the door was open, and so was the book. He didn't think. He just walked right in.

The sound of the front door slamming makes him jump. He thinks he's caught, shutting the diary to hide the evidence, then reopening it, remembering that's how he found it. It's pouring out, raining cats and dogs, and there you go running with your bare feet, forming new puddles.

He watches from the window, about to laugh, thinking you're the craziest girl he's ever met—the cute doormat with a pretty smile. But you're sprinting, heading straight for the barn. He tastes his heart on his tongue, throbbing and loud.

You cover your face with your hand as he finally reaches you in the truck, the high beams blinding you until he hops out and helps you up in the passenger seat.

"It's Winston," you pant, nightgown clinging to your skin as you dry your phone off on the leather, staring at the camera feed.

Katsuki gulps.

"S'gonna be fine," he says firmly, forcing his eyes straight ahead as you sniffle, damp and cold.

Your silence unnerves him. You're never quiet. Even in your damn diary entries, you've got enough personality to rock him off his feet. He wants to rattle you then, shake you until you shake back, cussing him out and calling him dumb. But you're quiet, and it's eerie. He helps you out of the truck.

A sound escapes his chest when you wrap your hand around his wrist, tugging him with you inside—his heart pleading for mercy, a chance. He follows you mindlessly, eyes glued to your bare feet, a growing urge to lift you up and let you walk on air.

You both stop outside of Winston's stall. He's lying down, nuzzling his stomach, and whimpers when he sees you.

"I know, baby, I know." You let go of Katsuki to unlock the latch.

He stands by the opening as you slip in, pine shavings sticking to your soles. Your body shakes slightly, dusting the ground with rain pellets, letting it absorb the pain you brought with it.

He watches you crouch down, petting Winston's neck slowly, almost choking when you peer over your shoulder to look back at him.

"Can you please get me the bute?"

Katsuki is frozen for a moment, stuck in the sudden change on your face. You're calm. Static and calm.

"The white powder shit?" He asks, gripping the pockets of his sweatpants like he might have it on hand, anxious.

"Yeah. Mix it with water like I showed you, and get it in a syringe for me," you nod, turning back to Winston.

"How much?" His voice is coarse, panic spiking at his throat.

You pause, about to tell him, then realize it might be too much to ask—that Katsuki won't always be here to do the heavy lifting.

"Watch him for me," you say, gone in a blink, jogging silently down the aisleway.

Katsuki stares at your back and then hesitantly at Winston.

Shit.

He wasn't good at this sort of thing. Was he supposed to talk to the horse, pet him like you always do? He knows he's not supposed to just approach them—that they're really just big babies with an extra set of feet. He glares at Winston, studying him. He doesn't want to piss this one off. You said—wrote that he was the sweetest one here. Katsuki wonders if the horses know like you say they do—if Winston knows when he's crying out for you that you're already on your way, sprinting in the rain.

Winston exhales, looking past Katsuki, searching for you.

He knows.

"I'm back," you breathe, holding a large syringe tube, pain relief just a gulp away.

Katsuki nods like you're talking to him, then realizes you aren't.

"Was Blondie nice to you while I was gone? He didn't say anything mean, did he?"

Katsuki huffs, crossing his arms in defense as he leans into the wood. "Didn't say shit," he grumbles.

You ignore him, inserting the chute into Winston's mouth, "I'm sorry, Winston. I know it tastes bad, but it's gotta be better than the pain, right?"

You're still talking to the horse, and Katsuki stands there, ignored, slightly bothered. He shakes his head. Pathetic—you're making him pathetic enough that he's jealous of a horse on its last leg, drinking chalky medicine as you cradle its chin.

"Thank you," you sigh, rubbing slowly up and down Winston's face, your heart ripped from your chest as he leans into the touch.

The rain is picking up, wind slapping it against the side of the barn. It's unbearably loud. Katsuki's fists tighten by his thighs, angry for Winston and you as it disturbs the moment's peace. But you're so gentle, unaffected by the storm, as you drop your forehead against Winston's.

Your hands trail up the sides of his face, massaging his ears until you stop to cup them.

"He's dying," you whisper.

Katsuki tenses, watching Winston's eyes flutter shut, waiting as your palms drag to brush over his lids.

"He's always had issues. Born to be a problem child, you could say," you smile as you turn, pressing your cheek into Winston. It burns slightly—the sprain at your neck is still fresh, lingering.

"But he was the coolest fucking horse. The All Might of horses, if that helps," you giggle lightly, amused at your own comparison.

A chill sweeps Katsuki at your use of the past tense. He's still alive, he wants to say, don't act like he's dead yet. But he knows better than most that it's best to accept loss before it comes rolling and crashing in. He stays silent.

"A superstar—a hero, and now he's here with me." You bite your inner cheek, piercing the emotion threatening to strike, hoping it'll deflate. "I guess every hero has their fall. Can't run forever. At some point, you gotta lay down."

You stare up at Katsuki. He sucks in a breath.

"It's not so bad down here, y'know."

You stay there for a beat, eyes locked until it hurts too much to look at him, and you turn to face Winston.

"But you'll always be a hero to me, buddy. You're still the coolest horse. You always will be, to me," you murmur. You press your tongue flat against the roof of your mouth, holding it there as you fight the hiccup at your throat, the tears that beg and weep.

"You'll always be his," Katsuki says.

The rain is loud. You cry just to know what it sounds like to join it.

"It's off-center," you complain, squinting at Katsuki's back as his shoulders drop.

"Hah?" He twists his torso, bracing himself against the wall as he shifts on the step ladder to face you. "It's straight, woman. The rest of them are just crooked."

"Are you saying I did a shitty job with the others, then?" You raise an eyebrow, watching as he climbs down.

"Basically," he nods.

"Rude," you bite back, fighting a smile as he moves to stand beside you.

He mutters something under his breath, and you both stare at the wall, glittered with horseshoes nailed to it. He's right, you think—the rest are a little slanted. Winston got the favorite treatment. He deserves it.

"It's kind of creepy," Katsuki turns to you, waiting for you to look back before continuing. "You sure this is a rehabilitation place? There's a lot of horseshoes up there."

You snicker at that.

"Most of them are just here to retire," you say, looking up at him. He really is handsome. You cross your arms in defense. "And it's not creepy. I just... I want them all to be remembered, is all."

Katsuki nods, exhaling, "Yeah, I get that. I do the same."

You're visibly confused but nod—never pushing him too hard. His jaw slacks, debating if he should explain, wishing you would poke and prod, just to feel your touch once.

"I keep a list," he says, finally.

You tilt your head, interest peaked but soft and welcoming. He runs a hand through his hair before starting.

"It's um... It's of all the people, y'know. The ones who," he pauses, swimming in your eyes, searching desperately for shore—something to make this easier, "died on my watch. It's like you said. I just don't want to forget any of them. Not ever."

You frown slightly, sympathy pooling in your irises, making it harder for him to keep treading. He wishes you wouldn't do that. You're going to make him choke.

"I-I don't think he told you," Katsuki pauses, feeling guilty for lying because he knows Shouta hasn't. He shouldn't have read your diary. He shouldn't have invaded your space. "But I'm here because of that, actually. I know you don't watch the news 'cause you like your shitty ass cartoons or whatever—"

You feel heat crawl up your neck in embarrassment. Of course, he picked up on things. He was living under your roof, after all. It still makes your pulse skip.

"But there was an accident—or no, I guess I was the accident," he cringes slightly, shaking his head. "I was trying to detain this villain, but he was so fucking fast, and he took this girl as hostage and... I tried so hard to be careful. I went for everywhere she wasn't, but I slipped up at one point and hit the building behind them."

He swallows, peering down at your lips, "Seven people died. I didn't notice at first. I just kept going after the guy and eventually got him. The girl was safe, and I restrained him. I thought everything was fine until I heard screaming. Everyone was huddled around this pile of broken concrete and screaming."

"Seven people died because of me," he finds your eyes again, waterline damp, flooding him, "and I know all their names, their families. I don't want to forget them. I won't."

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, like a reflex.

"It was my fault," he says, turning away from you. "They put me here to get me out of the press for a while—called it an honorable leave."

He lets out a breathy laugh. "It's bullshit. There's nothing honorable about it. The fucking villain killed less people than me. Not sure how I'm any better than him anyway. What good am I as a hero if I'm only good at destroying things, right?"

You reach out, grabbing his shoulder, "You can't say that."

"Yeah," he turns back to you, "I can. I'm not good at being the nice guy, the fucking Deku and All Mights of the world. I'm built more like a villain. Don't tell me I'm not 'cause it's true. They thought so too."

Your mouth opens, but he glares down at you, begging it to shut—to be heard without protest.

"I don't want to be one, though. I want to be good. Good like you."

You suck in a breath, releasing your grip. Katsuki panics for a moment, watching your head shake as you sulk.

"You don't know, then," you say. Katsuki's brows furrow, face scrunched as you rub your neck, "It's nice to know Shouta still keeps my secrets, I guess."

The air feels heavy as you collect yourself, running through the correct way to approach things, making Katsuki leap to every worst-case scenario as you do.

"I'm not good with people either," you start, glancing up at Winston's horseshoe, refusing to look at Katsuki. "My quirk... it's really harmful too. I've hurt people too."

He tenses beside you. You ignore it, continuing, "I make people's hearts stop. Literally, that's all I can do, and when I was little..."

You squeeze your eyes shut before staring at the ground. "It manifested without warning. I was in the kitchen with my mom. She was making dinner, and I was just watching from the counter. I remember looking at her and being so happy because she was making my favorite. Then suddenly, she dropped to the ground."

You can feel his eyes on you, his face softening until it almost doesn't look like him anymore. With a deep breath, you face him.

"I tried to help, but I only made it worse. I was making her heart beat so fast, inducing a heart attack. Then my dad and brother came down because I was yelling, and I thought they could help, but they... they dropped too."

Your gaze trails to his chest, his heart, "I was a child. I called for help, and eventually, Shouta came to the scene. He was the only one who could approach me safely—him and my dog. He brought me to UA and taught me how to control my quirk. I was away from the students for obvious reasons, but it was a lost cause. I'd never get to join them anyway. You can't become a hero when your quirk can only kill. Not that it even mattered. We found out later that it's only triggered by a strong sense of love."

Katsuki stutters on a breath. You swallow.

"But animals—for some reason, it didn't affect them. My love wouldn't kill them," you smile, struggling to hold the form as your lip trembles, "they could always handle it."

Katsuki's face is unreadable when you finally look back at him. He's so still and quiet, a statue, afraid to do or say the wrong thing. You falter, terrified you already have.

You let out a sad, forced laugh, shaking your head, trying to snap out of the sorrow, "So anyway, now I know why you came here, and you know why I'll stay. We both learned something, right? That's... good."

"You've always been alone, then," he notes sharply.

You bite your inner cheek, dropping your gaze again, "It's for the best. Just in case, y'know."

He's furious.

"That's fucking bullshit," he spits, a flame ignited beneath him.

You blink at him, speechless.

"How are you okay with that? Who the fuck told you that this was okay?"

"I like it here. It's fine—"

"It's not, though," he cuts you off. "Why do you have to hide from the world and shitty people like me don't? I get honorable leave, and you're just what? Bound here forever? It doesn't make sense. You're a good person. You don't deserve this."

You exhale, body shaking.

"Didn't you hear me? My quirk kills people, Katsuki. There's no other way to use it."

"It's not your fault, though. Your quirk is shitty, but you're not."

"Y-you're a hypocrite."

"What?"

"You're good too. You have a shitty quirk, but you're good too, Katsuki. You care. I've seen it—I've felt it."

"It's not the same."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not like you. You're... you're a little fucking weird, and that's probably 'cause you've been cooped up here for your whole life, but you're... actually good. You care so much about these horses, it's almost ridiculous, but you do. You've got a big heart, enough for all of them. You love too hard, is all. That's your only flaw. You're a sucker, and you love too hard."

"And you don't?"

"Huh?"

"You don't love too hard too?"

"I don't know what the fuck you're saying."

"I saw you crying after they picked Winston up, Katsuki."

"So?"

"So you have a heart. You love them all too. I know you do."

"Not like you do."

"Why does that matter? Why does—"

"Because I want to!" He clamors, panting. "Fuck. You're—hah, you're fucking my mind up a little. I'm getting weird just like you 'cause I want to. I want to know how to love like you do. I want to feel it so bad. Enough that it makes my heart stop. I don't care. I'd let you."

You shake your head vigorously.

"You don't know what you're asking for. You don't. You don't—"

"I probably don't," he retorts, stepping toward you. "Doesn't make me want it any less, though."

"You've only known me for two weeks," you say, helpless.

"Yeah, and I don't ever wanna not know you," he mutters, getting closer.

You can feel his body heat radiating off him, the scent of burnt sugar licking at your nose.

"I like you." His hand brushes your cheek, thumb guiding your chin up to him, locking you in his gaze. "I like you and your dumb fucking horses too."

"They're not dumb," you whisper, breathless.

"I know," he smiles.

"Then why'd you say it?" You frown, sliding your arms up his chest, behind his neck.

"'Cause I'm not a good guy, and you look cute when you pout like that," he says.

"Then what does that make me for liking you?" You grin, lips brushing his.

"A good girl with bad taste."

Katsuki kisses you roughly, earning tiny, desperate pleas as he takes what he wants. You squeeze his neck, tightening your arms around the muscles until he pulls back, growling at the pressure. You stare at him in awe, unable to catch your breath, mindless as you lean in to seize his bottom lip between your teeth. You tug it carefully, feeling his body tense, exhaling deeply through his nose. You sigh, watching it snap back into place, blood rushing to the area, mouth darkened with greed. He lets you gloat in the feeling—wants you to get drunk on the rush it gives you. But he's impatient, and you're so hot against him, like a furnace, driving him crazy. So he's back, knocking his forehead into yours, starved—tasting you, tongue slipping into your mouth, insatiable and confident. His thumb massages your neck, and he swallows the cry you release, the pain and lust filthy dripping down his throat.

"I feel it," he grumbles, crass and eager.

"Feel what?" You slur, fisting his hair to bring him closer, trying to kiss him, but he pulls back.

His eyes are steel, steady, and sharply red.

"Your quirk," he says, unmoving.

You let out a shaky laugh, but he doesn't budge, frightening you.

He's serious.

"That's not possible. You'd be dead," you breathe, shuddering at the thought.

"I'm not, though," he murmurs, almost purrs.

You gasp as he unhooks your arm from his neck, placing your palm flat into his chest. His pulse is heavy yet stable, but you can feel it at your fingertips. He's right. Your quirk is activated, and you didn't even notice. It's alive, and somehow he is too. All the blood drains from your face.

"Doesn't hurt too bad," he promises, slicking down your paranoia, "It's 'cause of my quirk. Nitroglycerin, it relaxes the heart. I produce it naturally."

You frown slightly, still unsure, so he rephrases, "I'm not affected by your quirk. I can handle it. You and your love. It feels good."

"I don't love you," you say weakly, blood rushing back, making your head heavy.

"'Course you don't. You're just making my heart race for fun," he grins.

You suck in a breath, stuttering on it, "Shut up."

"Kiss me then," he says.

So you do.

You kiss him till it hurts, your palm never leaving his chest, his heart pounding against it. It's terrifying to let yourself go, so he holds you tight. So tight you think maybe it's your heart that'll stop first.

"I burnt your toast."

He hums, taking the mug from your hands and bringing it to his lips to sip, not even flinching though it's burning hot.

"I like it like that," he mumbles, sighing as you drop in the seat across from him.

You hiss at the sharp feeling between your thighs, nails digging into your hip as you shift your weight onto it.

"What's wrong?" He's got his hero face on, all concerned and ready to save.

You frown, shaking your head. "Nothin' just sore."

He's not satisfied with that, eyes narrowing as he studies you, "From what?"

"Stop frowning. I'm fine, seriously," you reassure, patting the table as you stand.

A faint "ow" tumbles from your lips, and he huffs.

"You're a suck ass liar," he says, getting up to stand with you. "Tell me what's wrong."

"No," you make your way into the kitchen, knowing he's following you, "it's nothing. Leave me alone."

"Not gonna," he promises, watching as you lean down and open the freezer, "I just wanna help."

You sigh, snatching an icepack before placing your hands on your hips, trying to be assertive, "I said I'm fine, now move, you're in my way."

Katsuki tilts his head, amused as he smiles wide like a shark, smug.

"You're too embarrassed to say," he decides, eyes roaming your body before leading back to your annoyed expression.

"I'm going to my room," you announce, taking a step forward. Katsuki doesn't move, a brick wall between you and escaping.

"What about breakfast?" He grimaces—like he's offended you're not going watch him eat his shitty burnt toast.

"You're a big boy. You can eat alone," you walk into him, groaning when he doesn't budge.

"I wanna eat with you," he brushes your hair with his palm, peering down as you prop your chin against his chest to face him, "and know why you're acting so weird all of a sudden."

"I'm just a weird girl," you say, cringing as he chuckles in response.

"Yeah, but this is extra weird. You're hiding something from me. Like I said, you're a shit liar."

You pout for a moment, but he doesn't buy it, so you sigh, surrendering.

"It's from barebacking," you confess, dropping your gaze to his neck, tracing his collarbone, "Roma's got a big ass wither, and I took her for a trail ride yesterday 'cause she hates the lunge tape, and..."

You look up at him, then down and back up, begging that it hits him. His eyes widen a moment later, and you're relieved.

"Why didn't you use a saddle?" He questions, curious and a little proud of himself for thinking to ask, noticing how it catches you off guard.

"She hates girths too. I think someone pinched her a couple times with it, and now she can't bear them," you explain, fighting a smile as Katsuki nods, taking it all in—learning.

"So now you're sore 'cause of her wither bone?"

"Yeah, almost feels like I bruised my... y'know," you mumble, looking to the side to escape his smirk.

"No, I don't know. Tell me."

"Don't make it weird," you say, nudging at his chest again. He's a mountain, and you're just the idiot trying to get over or around him, whichever is quicker.

He exhales deeply after a moment, relaxing enough to move back a step.

"Let me help you, then," he whispers.

Then you're the one frozen, tongue heavy in your mouth as you look up to confirm he said it.

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm asking to help. I'll hold the ice for you."

You want to call out how impracticable that'd be, how it'd be easier if you just sat on the icepack and you both had your hands free. But Katsuki is so handsome. All muscle and this boyish charm you only see in movies yet have playing out right here in the kitchen in front of you. Impracticable suddenly sounds really good.

"Alright," you settle, acting nonchalant, trying hard not to choke on your pulse.

"Good," he says, stepping to the side to let you free. You steer for the table. He grabs your wrist halfway there.

"Thought we were going to your room," he murmurs.

"What? I thought you wanted to eat breakfast?" Your eyebrows crumple together, lips turning down in confusion.

"I like your idea better now."

You narrow your eyes at him, but he doesn't give anything away, just looking back at you with his familiar face—like he's innocent and you're the weird one. You're always the weird one, you think.

"Fine, my room it is," you shrug, your neck prickling as you turn, something twisting at your core.

"Lead the way."

You've never brought him to your room before—never brought anyone to your room before, you realize. You're suddenly mortified. Katsuki has experience. It's written all over his face. You're still too scared to tell him he was your first kiss. A small part of you knows he didn't need to be told. It's probably written all over your face too.

"Um, this is it," you say lamely.

Katsuki looks around, pretending he hasn't been here before. The horses are in almost everything here. A painting on the wall, a small sculpture on your nightstand, He can't help but think it's kind of cute. You're a nerd for horses in the way Deku is for All Might—the way Katsuki is for All Might. They really are your heroes.

"Very you," he notes, making your nose crinkle up as you nod, embarrassed.

Biting the bullet, you sit on the bed, patting a space for him next to you. The mattress bounces you with his added weight, and you pet it as if to calm it down.

"Lay down," he directs, taking the icepack from your hand.

You drag yourself to the center, gulping. You've become comfortable around Katsuki, but this was a significant step if you're being modest. You're in a loose-fitting tee shirt that kisses your thighs and does a terrible job at hiding how you're not wearing shorts, the fabric bunching at your hips as your knees bend. Your panties aren't even cute, you remember, feeling the air hit your skin as you refuse to check, and Katsuki shifts to bring himself closer to you.

He massages your ankle, eyes glued to your face, not daring to peak just yet.

"You alright?"

You let out a small, measly sound, like you're suffocating and just caught air, "Yup. I'm good."

He squints at you, releasing his hold, "You're nervous."

"For what?" You huff, almost genuinely asking—begging.

"I make you nervous," he clarifies, not taking the bait.

You pause, thinking it over, even if you don't need to.

"I'm insecure," you say, shifting your gaze to your thighs, tensing at the sight of them like you haven't had them attached to you every single day of your life, and you're surprised to just meet them now. "You're the first person I've ever gotten this close to. I have some friends through horse things, so more business relationships if anything, but... I've never been with someone like this. Like you."

Katsuki breathes in deeply, wetting his bottom lip with the swipe of his tongue. "You think I'm gonna judge you or something? 'Cause I know, you're a little thick at times, but I didn't think you were actually dumb."

You huff.

"Was that supposed to be reassuring?"

"Kind of?"

"It wasn't," you smile, staring right at him.

He looks gentle under the early sunlight, broad and delicate against the cotton sheets.

"I'm trying to say you've got nothing to be nervous about. I like you. I like you a whole fucking lot. Don't let whatever you're thinking surpass that truth."

He says it softly, but you know he means it with the grit of his teeth, silently asking you don't make him bear them to prove it to you.

"I like you too," you say, finally.

"I know," he smiles, rubbing your calf as you nod, opening your legs for him.

You gasp when he presses the ice to you, his eyes still on your face, eating up your reaction. He nestles his nose into your knee, kissing it. You think you might melt.

"Feel better?" He asks, breath brushing down your thigh as he rests his cheek against it.

"Not yet," you whisper, fighting the urge to clamp your legs around his forearm, suddenly aware of how close he is.

He grins into your skin, closing his eyes and planting another wet hot kiss onto the meat of your inner thigh, "You sure?"

"I'm not," you say in a haze.

He's trailing down, pecking your leg until he pauses, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

"Do you want me to then?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to make it feel better?"

He holds you there, eye to eye, his hair tickling your flesh.

"What do you mean?" You let out a shaky breath, feeling him apply more pressure to the icepack.

"I wanna make you feel good. Let me."

You wait for the feeling to come—fear and shame, something begging you to stop before you make a fool out of yourself. It doesn't, though.

You look at Katsuki and don't feel anything but his heart and how steady it is in your palms.

"Please."

He kisses your thigh, then shifts up, placing an elbow beside you to drop down and plant a kiss on your lips—sweet and slow.

"I'll be gentle," he promises. You believe him.

He kisses you again before lowering himself, biting a smile back as you pout at the loss of his weight above you. It's wiped right off your face when he dips down, nuzzling into your heat, tossing the icepack next to him. He kisses you there, so delicate you almost can't feel it, still a little numb from the cold. But he warms you up, poking his tongue out to dip into you, teasing you until you whine enough that he rocks back on his knees and helps you shimmy out of the material.

You hide your face as he stares at you and your nakedness, fully clothed himself.

"I know you won't believe me, 'cause you're you, but you're fucking perfect, doll."

The pet name sounds sweet on his lips, but you taste so much sweeter.

Your thighs muffle your moans, but he likes them at his cheeks, threatening to suffocate him with how tight you hold him there. He grins when your hands find his hair, tugging and pulling, letting go and giving in to him. You're like putty in his hands, and he's just trying to memorize how you feel, studying you with his tongue until he knows how to mold the shape of you.

You cry when his thumb presses into you, rubbing focused circles on your clit, adoring it under his touch. Then you really are putty in his hands, hot gooey lava that slips between his fingers as he works desperately to lap you up, not wasting a drip of your euphoria—his hard work.

He climbs up your body to kiss you, swapping spit as you gasp at your taste on his tongue.

"Feel good?"

You nod into him, panting between kisses, not ever wanting to pull back.

"Wanna hear you say it," he moves to your chin, trailing down to your neck.

"I feel good," you sigh, running your hands up and down his back, feeling hot to the touch at how big he feels. So strong and yet careful, aware of his size and weight, you the glass under his feet.

"Mm," he hums, finding his way back to you, "I feel good too."

He stares at you then, the dumbest grin on his lips, drunk on you.

"I like you so much," you whisper, lifting a hand to cradle his face.

"Does that scare you?" He asks, leaning into your touch.

"A little, but I like it. I like you," you stare at his lips, watching as he turns his face to kiss your open palm, speaking into it.

"Good. Don't ever stop, then. Be mine."

You suck in a breath, then look at him, and let it go.

"I'm yours," you say. "Always."

"We're almost there."

His arms are crossed, and you think he looks a bit like a child at the moment, stubborn and impatient.

You've been walking down the dirt road for at least an hour now, and he's already asked five times why you didn't want to just drive down, and you've already given the same stupid answer: you like walking, it's fun.

He'd be okay with it if you weren't wincing every other step, squeezing your hand in his. You're on your feet all day, he thinks. How much fun did you intend on having?

"Okay, it's just around the corner, I think," you pull him slightly, dragging him out of his internal debate about how mad you'd be if he just scooped you up on the way back.

"They better be fucking nice if you're getting blisters over them," he mutters, feeling a tug at his heart as you giggle.

"They're my favorite. Worth all the blisters in the world."

Then you turn the corner, and he'll give it to you—they're pretty fucking nice. Huge too, he notes, watching as you run free, letting the flowers hit your body.

"They're so pretty," you beam, the sun starting to set as you dance in its golden hour.

They're alright, he thinks. You're what's so fucking pretty, what's worth dancing about.

"C'mon, don't just stand there!"

He sighs all heavy like you're taking years off his life just for asking, but proceeds anyway. He's stiff in front of you, barely moving, so you're like liquid in the air to make up for it.

"You're not having fun," you frown, poking at his chest before twirling.

"You're fucking insane if you think I'm gonna do whatever you're doing right now," he says, mesmerized.

You laugh at that, shrugging slightly, "That's fair. I don't even know what I'm doing either."

He can tell. You're just flowing with the breeze, and he's watching with his breath caught in his throat. He wants to be there with you suddenly—in the air getting swept away.

You squeal when his hands grip your hips, lifting you up in the air, spinning you.

"I'm flying!" You muse, smiling down at him.

"No, you're not," he laughs, smiling back.

It starts raining then, sprinkling on your back as he slowly lets you down, scowling at the sky.

He stares up at it for a moment, deep in thought. You let the flowers tickle your back until he finally decides.

"No way I'm walking back in the fucking rain," he spits.

Suddenly, your feet are back off the ground, with an arm secured behind you. You clutch at his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso tight.

"It's gonna be loud," he warns, and just like that, you're in the air.

Just like that, you're flying.

Katsuki's quirk is ugly in a lot of ways. It hurts your ears, violent and aggressive in nature. You know he hates that side of himself, the one that carries the blood lost from these short, firework-like blasts. In the air, it's different. It's jarring and quick, but you feel safe, smiling through the whiplash. Soaring, your body pressed to him, you think he's the coolest man you've ever met. Your hero. Katsuki is, and always will be, your hero.

He lands shortly before meeting the barn, dropping to his feet and sprinting with you there in his arms. It's the perfect distance away from the horses, you realize. He didn't want to spook the horses.

You're both dripping wet when you get to the house, shaking in the air conditioning as you run up the stairs. You rush for the shower and somehow end up on your bed instead. The sheets are ruined, and you decide you like them better that way.

You sigh into each other's mouths as he enters you, thighs hugging his hips as he kisses your face, telling you that you're doing so good for him. You think you get it then—love, why people talk about how they like it so much. At one point in your life, you were afraid of it. Love is your weapon, and there's no safety on your trigger. Katsuki kisses you anyway, though. He kisses you until his jaw hurts, your bare skin kissing too.

It stings a little, but he's slow and patient, allowing you to adjust. He chuckles lightly when you start rocking into him, kissing your shoulder and asking if it feels good. You're eager to show him, moaning his name, touching his back and all the muscles flexing beneath your palms as you do.

The rain is loud against your window, but you sound good with it, and for once, he thinks he might like it. Or maybe he just really likes you. No, not like, he—

"I love you."

He says it first, cupping your face as his hips stay at yours, keeping you molded together.

"Promise?" You ask, beaming as he nods above you.

"I promise. I love you."

You lift your head to kiss him, smiling against his lips.

"I love you," you say and mean.

"I promise it too."

Katsuki's hand brushes up and down your arm until you can't feel it anymore, and it's like the air that surrounds you both. You're by the window, overlooking the pastures on his lap.

"You could come with me," he says.

You both know you won't. You're staring at the first reason, the second thumping in his chest.

"Or you could stay," you whisper, nestling your face into the crook of his neck, wishing you could remain there forever.

"I can't. I never could," he sighs, lips pressing to your scalp.

You nod into him. Of course, he couldn't. He's still in his prime, after all. He's gotta be someone's star while he still has the flame. He doesn't belong here, not yet, at least. Silently, you wish he never would. You wish he'd never know how the ground feels beneath his feet. He moves so naturally in the sky.

It's silent for a while, just his breath and yours synced, slow and steady—ready for a storm.

"Come with me," he asks, begs.

"Sunflowers don't grow in the city," you say.

He knows what you mean. He knows that means no, and it always will.

"You're right. They don't. Not like they do here," he mumbles, exhaling to break the cycle, your hearts on a different beat.

"Nothing out there is like it is here," you whisper, not even sure if it's true.

"Nothing like you, that's for sure," he smiles and then stops because it hurts too much.

It's quiet again, time passing too quickly. You can feel him fading beneath you—a foot out the door, his hand still on your thigh.

"What if I can't live without you, Katsuki?"

He tenses, the hand at your arm stopping, reminding you he was there—that he's always been there.

"You'll just have to hold your breath till I get back, then," he says.

Something tickles your hand as you reach out in slumber, something soft yet rough around the edges.

"Kat?"

Your eyes open before you can even really see, just a blur of colors and a soft yellow that gives you hope, resting against the pillow beside you.

But it's just a sunflower, you realize. It's not the yellow you've grown to favor, the blond with a bite. It's a single sunflower and a small notebook beside it. You open it up to read.

Friday

I read your diary. I'm sorry. That was probably one of the shittiest things I've done to you, maybe right under getting your neck fucked up the second night. I'm sorry for that too, by the way. I don't even remember if I told you I was, but I am. I'm sorry, and this is a shitty way to make up for it, but I'm trying.

I have to leave soon. We don't have many days left, and by the time you read this, I'll be gone already. I hope our last day is a good one. You better not cry, either. Please don't cry. I swear this isn't goodbye. Not for forever. I promise that.

Saturday

You are the love of my life. Have you figured that out yet? If you haven't, I've done something terribly wrong, or you really are stupid.

Of course, you're not. You're smart. My bright, sometimes dumb, pretty girl. God, do you even hear what I sound like right now? You make me sound all gross and shit, doll. Fucking gross. But I think I like it. Really, I just like you.

You're in the shower right now, and I'm being smart in my own way by taking the time to write for you now while you're busy. Be proud I'm not begging to join you, 'cause I really wish I could.

Maybe I will, actually. Yeah, I think I will. I want to kiss you right now, so I gotta go. I'll act smart later.

Sunday

I'm terrible at this diary shit. You're so good at it, too, I'm a little jealous 'cause I thought it'd be easy.

We have two more days together, and today I thought about asking to marry you. I don't even have a ring, so I'm not sure how I thought it would work, but I considered it. Really I did. You're allowed to laugh. I know it's ridiculous.

I'd bet you'd say no. I'd be mad if you didn't. You deserve a ring, a really nice one too. I've never understood them because it's just a rock on metal, but I don't know. Is it still a rock on metal if it's slipped around your finger since you said yes? Today I thought it couldn't be, that'd it'd be so much more. I want to marry you, doll.

I want to marry you.

I do.

I really fucking do.

Wait up for me 'cause I'll never stop waiting for you.

Monday

We had sex today.

Imagine if I just left it like that? It could have been funny. Fuck, it would have been. I already wrote on the end of the page, though, and I don't wanna rip it out. It'd be a whole thing, then. You'd be looking for that page forever, probably thinking it was some sappy love letter, and I wouldn't have the heart to tell you it was just this.

It could have been funny. Fuck.

But anyway, we did. I know you probably thought about it, so let me just tell you where you can't fight the answer: yes, you're the best I've ever had. You were incredible. You are incredible. I'd go into detail, but I think that might be too much. Or maybe that's what you like. I don't know. I just realized I don't know.

I don't know everything about you. I've known you for three months, and I don't know if you'd be happy or not for me to do this. Maybe you'll actually hate it. Maybe you'll read "I read your diary" and fucking hate me and stop there. I hope you won't, and to be honest, I know you won't, 'cause you're you. I know you enough to know that you're you. That I love you, and you love me.

I want to know more, though. I don't want to have to guess or think when it comes to you. Isn't that what love is all about, doll? No questions and second-guessing, just knowing or not needing to. I want to reach that with you. We can't do it in a day and only have one left.

I'll come back to you so we can. Even if it kills me, somehow, I'll come back to you. You'll be the star I follow to guide me home. You will be my home.

Please.

Tuesday

I don't know how to explain this feeling in words, but if I had to, it's gotta be like losing the sun and never knowing warmth again.

You are so radiant. The horses see it too. I think maybe you're their sun, and that's why it's never cold here.

Since this is the last entry, I'll be blunt with you. When I first came here, I thought you were the most out-of-touch person I'd ever met. You talked to the horses more than you spoke to me, and I genuinely thought you might be insane. Then I got you spun off Dreamer and realized it was me who didn't know shit. Again, I'm sorry for that.

You've changed my life since that day. Every day since I've met you actually, I've changed. You make me a better person, doll, and somehow I didn't fuck you up into becoming worse. We work well together. I almost think you were made for me, and I was made for you. I know I sound so goddamn weird, but this time I'm asking you don't laugh because I'm fucking serious.

You are the only one for me. I'm sorry that it's true, that you're stuck with me forever. I'll make it worth it, though. I'll spend every day making it up to you. I'll do anything you ask too.

Just not staying. I can't do that, not yet. I wish I could, but we both know it wouldn't be right. I'm just not ready to settle down, doll. I'm not like Winston. I haven't reached the top of that hill just yet. But I'm going to, and I have to. I need to be up there. I want to be someone you look at and think I'm worthy of resting my head on your lap, that I've lived enough days and fought enough battles to just lay there with you forever.

I know you're not ready either. You need time away from me to catch your breath again, to grow with the weeds and flowers. You need time to miss me so much that you couldn't ever get sick of me again. I know that. You need to be the sun for them too. I can't steal you like that.

So promise me you'll still love me when the timing is right for it. When I'm bruised and beat and don't have the charm to carry my shitty personality anymore. That's a lot to ask, but the thing is, I'm so greedy, and I'll ask for it.

I won't stop loving you. Don't stop, either.

Dance in the fields for me, pretty girl. One day I'll be so tired, I just might dance with you.

Dear Katsuki,

It's been years. Not a day goes by that I don't think about you, though. I started watching the news just to see you again. You really are a hero. You're the best I've ever seen.

I miss you so much, Kat. I think I'll miss you forever, some days more than others. When it rains, I miss you most. I miss your grouchy face and how you held me tighter during storms. I almost forget what it feels like, which scares me the most. Sometimes I close my eyes and can't see you, so I panic. I think I'm forgetting you in those moments, and I realize I never hung you up on the wall, that maybe you were never really here, and I just dreamt the time we spent together.

You asked me to never stop loving you. I think it's cruel that you thought you even had to ask like it was a choice I ever had a hand in making.

You said I was the sun. You're a fool, Katsuki. Don't you know the winter is so much colder here without you?

I think you might have ruined my life by kissing me so softly. I hope I ruined yours too.

I think you've lived enough. I think I couldn't stand to see you bruised and beat. Your head has always been too heavy. Won't you come home and rest here on my lap, just like you said you would?

I hope the city is keeping you warm. I'll have to burn it if it isn't.

I love you. I love you till it hurts, and some more after that.

Be my sun so I can dance again.

Come back so you can ask to marry me. I'll let my answer be a surprise. You'll just have to wait and see, won't you? Come home and find out.

I miss you.

I'll be here when you're ready.

I love you.

It felt like a storm was coming, but it didn't. You're grateful for that. You've been getting so many lately that it's beginning to feel like an omen, thinking the people on the news saying the world is ending may just be right. You know they're wrong. The world already ended, you think. It did the day he left you, but nobody seemed to notice. They're all late pointing fingers now.

It's nighttime, but you're still working because there's nothing better to do. Cleaning is therapeutic until you watch all your work gone in seconds. The horses don't appreciate as you do. But you do it anyway, polishing the barn doors like they'll ever be seen by anybody. You think maybe the moon cares. It glows the farm nicely at night, so at least you have one fan.

There's a bang by the end of the driveway. You check both doors, adrenaline pumping, realizing you left them open to dry. Did you forget to close someone's stall fully? You don't think you have time to check. Whoever got loose is already far down the road. You stare at the truck and then, for some reason, think you might be faster than an engine at the moment.

You realize about halfway down that you're most definitely not. You're more out of shape than you remember being, panting as you push yourself off the dirt, heart in your throat, burning it. You think you can see it then, in the distance. Somethings moving slowly towards you, quiet and steady. It's not one of the horses, you think. It's not wide enough. So then what?

You pray it's not a coyote or something. That'd really fucking suck. No way you ran all the way down here to get gobbled up by a coyote.

It's still moving, the same pace, still quiet. It's too dark to make much out, though. If it's trying to kill you, it's doing a terrible job—giving you way too long of a head start to run if you were smart enough to take it. Something about it has you frozen in place, your skin slick with sweat as you catch your breath.

"Hello?" You call out, feeling dumb for trying. Coyotes don't talk back.

"You're still here, then?" It asks. It asks.

The voice is familiar, but you almost can't pinpoint it, a gush of wind carrying it too far to reach.

"Yeah? Yeah, I'm here."

That triggers something within the shadow ahead because it's running then, full speed ahead, straight down the line to you. Suddenly the air feels warmer. You almost forget it's night.

"It's really you?" He yells, getting closer by the second—your head start long gone as you nod into the dark.

You pinch yourself. Then again, and again. It hurts each time, but you keep doing it, afraid you're in a dream with a happy ending you can't bear to see if you'll never actually have it.

"It's me. How do I know you're you?" You shout, fighting against the breeze.

Then there's sparks. Small bursts, like tiny fireworks. You see sparks.

You're running again, adrenaline back and so strong you can't feel your legs anymore. Katsuki grunts when you crash into him, jumping into his arms, knowing he'll catch you.

"It's you. It's fucking you!"

You're squeezing him so tight, on his body and heart. He hasn't felt his pulse so strong in a while, not since you last gave him the reason to.

"You're gonna spook the horses," he whispers, holding you back just as tight.

"Fuck you," you say.

You don't remember when you start crying, but it's making a mess. His shoulder is damp, and suddenly, you realize yours is too. Your hero is crying. The sun's weeping at your neck, begging to finally be let home.

"I did it," you say, breaking the silence.

"Did what?" He pulls back to press his face into yours, brushing against it like a cat.

"I held my breath for you."

Katsuki kisses you then, under the audience of the stars and the weight of the world melting off his shoulders, his furnace pressed against him once again.

"Was it worth it?" He asks, pecking your nose and cheeks, covering you in what you've almost forgotten.

"We'll have to find out, I guess," you smile, feeling him walking down the road still carrying you, returning home.

Monday

Katsuki relearned how to figure eight a bridle today. It looked like shit, of course, but it's him, so somehow, it's perfect.

It feels good to have the sun back on my face, in bed beside me every night. He's the only heat I want to know, so I said yes today.

I doubt he was surprised, but I made sure to at least look like I had to think, just keep him on his toes.

He's gonna look so handsome in a suit. I hope I look even better in my dress to punish him for waiting so damn long to come back.

Kidding. Maybe.

Truth is, I really was holding my breath. So it feels good to breathe again.

I love him so much. So much it makes him blush.

I have to go now. Katsuki's in the shower, and I want to join him. So bye, for now, and maybe forever. I just wanna dance with him, so you understand, right?

You've been good to me, diary. You can rest happy knowing you end on a good note.

I'll be just fine. The sun's back in town, didn't you hear?

I think winter's gonna be just fine.