A Child Of Our Own

surprising your long distance boyfriend

feat. Osamu, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Bokuto

♡ a/n: based off couch boy slander tiktok

OSAMU

You found yourself getting more and more nervous as you moved up in line. Of course you were excited to see your boyfriend after what seemed like forever- but your heart was still pounding.

The hoodie you were did a sufficient job at enveloping you, hiding your facial features. If you kept your head down, then Osamu wouldn’t be able to recognize you when you ordered food.

Keep reading

* ੈ✩‧₊* you fell first, but bakugo katsuki fell harder

notes: pls idk what this is ive literally never written anyth like this but ive always wanted to write a fic w/ this prompt,, also im thinking of doing an angst version of this 🤩

genre: fluff, lovesick bakugo + reader flirts w/ him a lot, childhood friends to lovers, tw: BARELY PROOFREAD ‼️

bakugo katsuki doesn't know anyone who annoys him more than you do.

he doesn't believe he's gotten this far in one piece when he's been stuck with someone like you since childhood. there's something infuriating about the way you tug on the strap of his school bag when both you and his mother are insisting that you walk to school together in the morning. it's even more infuriating when he doesn't know what in the world is fluttering in his chest and churning in his stomach when you start tugging on his sleeve instead.

bakugo katsuki has no idea why and when exactly he started doing it, but now his blood boils watching that dorky smile on your face while he carries your bag to school every morning and on the way home too.

"katsuki." you playfully bump your shoulder against his arm and grin, "you love me, don't you?"

"i'm doing this 'cuz you look like a fucking camel with this bulky ass bag of yours." he scowls, trying to ignore the tiny, tingling spark he felt on the fleck of his skin that met yours for a single second. "what hell is even in this, rocks?"

"is your back hurting? let me give you a back massage then. c'mon, take off your shirt and lie down."

he grimaces, a flush of scarlet spreading from his cheeks to the tip of his ears.

"what?" you chuckle. "you know we've seen each other naked before, right? remember when we used to take baths together as children? i even let you touch my-"

"shut the fuck up, l/n."

it's maddening how easily you fluster him, like it's your second nature. a teasing remark and a single wink, and he's all over the place. all he can do is click his tongue and walk straight ahead of you (though occasionally looking back if you're still with him)

bakugo katsuki tries to counter your flirty remarks. he can do better, he swears he can. a multitude of emotions takes over him when he sees a sliver of your underwear peeking through your clothes. his cheeks flush and his nails bury into his palmsー partly from the thoughts racing relentlessly in his head, and partly out of wrath for anyone who would dare to ogle you or loudly point it out to the whole room.

he stands protectively close behind you like a guard dog, obstructing anyone even a glimpse. he speaks in a low voice you didn't know he was even capable of, his breath grazing your skin. "oi. nice underwear." once again, he's annoyed to the brim hearing that faint tremble in his words.

he's relieved and all the same, flustered, watching you realize and immediately fumbling with your clothes, but no matter how many attempts, no matter how much he swears he can be a match to you and your teasing nature,

"nice? i'll let you borrow if you like it that much then."

you are the only losing game bakugo katsuki has ever been in.

what annoys him even more is that for some reason, he's able to bare his soul to you, in spite of the sheer ugliness, the plain cruelty of it, and the pathetic, endless heaps of insecurities overflowing from him.

he presses his palms against his face in a futile attempt to muffle out his angry sobs. you brush a hand over his heaving shoulder, "it's gonna be okay, katsuki. i promise." when he doesn't flinch nor pulls away, you gently coax him into a light embrace, your torsos barely touching yet emitting such intoxicating and soothing heat onto each other.

"the fuck are you crying for?" he snaps, confused and concerned as to why you're suddenly sniffling with him.

"i know, it's stupid." you hug him tighter. "i swear i'm not making this about me. i justー i wish i knew how to make you feel better."

'annoying,' he thinks as he hugs your waist and buries his tear-stained face into the crook of your neck. "i'm going to kill you if you tease me about this tomorrow, l/n."

"hey, i don't do that." you whisper comfortingly despite the threat. "you know i won't."

he knows you won't.

most of all, it gets on bakugo katsuki's nerves the most when he remembers you've had genuine, actual romantic feelings for him since you were children, and it's not just fickle banter and incessant flirting here and there.

"shit. your fever's still high." he mutters, pressing his large palm on your forehead. it astounds both of you how it almost covers your whole face. mindlessly, he shifts his palm sweetly to your cheek, tucking in any stray hair out of your face. what in the world have you done to have him wrapped around your little finger like this? you have him buying you medicine and checking your temperature with concern, feeding you food he cooked specially for your taste, and holding your perfect little hand just because you asked him to.

"thanks for taking care of me, katsuki."

"you're a pain in the ass, l/n."

katsuki anticipates another joke or a flirty remarkー something about ass most likely, but then you look up at him, widely staring, and you speak in the steadiest voice you could muster, "am i really?"

he doesn't answer.

"can i tell you something?" you continue. there's a pang in katsuki's chest when you slide your hands off of his. "i like you, katsuki. i still do after all these yearsー"

"shut up. that's your fever talking"

"no, this is just me talking. even if i wake up tomorrow and don't remember anything i said to you today, i'll probably end up saying the same thing again someday, and my feelings won't have changed at all."

steering clear of your eyes, katsuki starts rearranging the stacks of medicine on your nightstand and adjusting your blanket when your frail hand latches onto his wrist.

"i just need to know if you're actually uncomfortable with me or if i have absolutely no chance at all, then i'll stop. i'll distance myself from you even. if that's what you want."

he would never forgive you nor himself for it.

you laugh weakly and continue, "and then maybe i'll just date todoroki or somethingー"

"fuck it." he hisses. he swings the blanket over your face so he won't have to bear your gaping eyes when he spits out, "dumbass, i do like you. don't ever do that, jesus."

there's half a minute of silence between you, him still distraught over the mere image of you and todoroki, and you still buried in the blanket, sinking everything in. you pull the sheet slowly until your eyes peek out. it's unbelievely annoying, again, how fucking adorable you are, katsuki thinks.

"you do? since when?" you ask in a tiny voice that will echo in his mind for the rest of the day, he knows it.

"does it matter?"

"no?" you pull the blanket over yourself again.

and then another minute of agonizing silence.

"katsuki?"

"what? you need anything?"

"yeah. kind of."

"what is it?" he starts to panic a little, "tell me." your fever completely slipping his mind in the heat of the moment.

"can you tell me you like me again when i get better? i have a feeling i'll remember this is a fever dream, then i won't stop talking about it to you, and it'll be so embarrassing."

his mouth quirks up into a smirk. "how about this," he pulls the blanket off you and leans slowly, your cheeks flushing even hotter. he brushes his hand against your forehead and gently presses a kiss, his heart in shambles when he catches brief sight of you shutting your eyes tight. "i like you."

you open them again to see a devilish smirk on his face, except it's noticeably much softer than the usual one he wears. he kisses your cheek next, inhaling your scent as he presses his lips against your warm skin, "i like you."

you're a whole mess now. it's the feverish heat spreading across your cheeks as his hand makes its way to yours under the blanket, the close proximity of bakugo katsuki, his scent, the immense heat that gets you dazed and hitches your breath when he props his forehead onto yours. it's the years of closeness and familiarity you've always shared with him, now blooming into something more, like a flower that has just learned to face the sun and bask in the sweet, easy morning air.

"i like you." he says again. maybe he is a match for you after all. "if it's the only way to shut you up. i'll tell it over and over again."

you fell first. bakugo katsuki fell harder, much harder. seeing you escape under the blanket again and squealing when he tries to pull it back down, he doesn't remember what is it that he found so terrifying in falling in love with you.

it's you, after all, isn't it? the most annoying little shit he's always loved.

Royally In Love

Prince!Diluc x Commoner!Fem!Reader

Summary: Diluc Ragnvindr is the Crowned Prince of Mondstadt, you are just some random commoner. You two met when you were both just kids, him sneaking out of the castle to explore the city, he met you when you were crying on a branch of a tree, unable to get down. Things took a turn and apparently, you two had a thing for each other, you even took each others first kiss, he even invited you to be his date at the next gala in the Castle of Royals. You almost cried in front of so many people that night, thinking that everything between you was a lie, when he took another woman to dance with him.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Your eyes followed the two form in the middle of the room, they were dancing together so elegant and mesmerizing. So perfect.

It's okay, it was just a dance, right? That would be the case, if the whole gala wasn't for just Diluc finding a betrothed, a bride.

To think that for weeks, you stressed about this night, what you were going to wear, how were you supposed to act, how are you gonna dance, all the proper etiquette you should know. You thought that maybe, maybe it was finally the day that Diluc would introduce you as his lover, you dreamed of that happening almost every night, giggling to yourself about how amazing that would be.

He invited you, his lover, to a ball where he finds a replacement for you.

Everyone in the ballroom was in awe of the pear, but you? You felt nothing but a pit in your stomach and bile in your throat.

But... you're not mad. Seeing Diluc and that woman together, she was so, so pretty, like a princess from a fairytale world. You already know you didn't stand a chance, maybe Diluc was just such a gentleman that he didn't want to hurt your feelings when you confessed to him. Maybe he felt nothing for you at all.

Everything was just a lie.

His promises, his love.

Maybe he just invited you so you could finally have a reality check and stop pestering him with your silly feelings.

You can't blame him though, he is royalty, you're not, you're probably not even half his standards.

Every second you were in that room, you felt even worse. Even if everything was a lie... your love, it was true.

Diluc was resting against a tree, you were in his arms, your back on his chest as you sit on his lap. "'Luc?" You called out for him.

He hummed as a reply, resting his head from the tree onto your shoulder. "Do you think that your family will accept me when they find out...?" You looked at the man resting his head on your shoulder, you've always been insecure that his family and the royal court will never accept their Crowned Prince to be dating a worthless commoner.

"..." He didn't have an answer, as always. You did ask that question a lot, waiting for the day that he finally gives you a proper answer. "That shouldn't matter." The prince whispered, cupping your right hand with his own before lifting it up to his lips and kissing the back of it.

But it does matter, though. Diluc will be King someday, and if he decides to marry you... you'll be his Queen, while the thought of that makes you feel all light headed and tingly, it also scares you that maybe when that happens, it'll be the end of your wonderful story.

He sensed the uneasiness within you. "Hey, no matter what. I'll always love you, alright?" Diluc's soft voice reassured you. "You'll always be my Queen."

It's time to leave.

You can't stay there any longer.

You look back at him and the woman, his hand on her waist, her's on his shoulder, their other hand intertwined with each other. They were dancing to such a beautiful melody too, everything looked so perfect at that moment.

As you were looking at your lover, his eyes lifted up to meet your own...

Instead of looking angry, sad, disappointed... you smiled at him. You smiled despite the obvious unshed tears in your eyes.

You smiled at him before getting up from your chair, looking down at your dress and smoothening it.

It is hard to love someone so different from you, that's what's on your mind as you walked to the door of the castle. But you know what... it's fine, you'll be fine, at least you were with the love of your life for a moment. You can't ask for more.

...

When Diluc's eyes looked into yours, his entire body begged him to just drop everything and run to you, bring you into his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

When you smiled at him, refusing to let your tears fall from your eyes, his heart ached like it was being stabbed with no remorse.

When you walked out, not even looking back, Diluc felt his world shatter into a million pieces, his heart doing the very same.

He didn't know. He didn't know what this gala was actually for. He thought that maybe you'd feel better if he started bringing you to events like these. He didn't mean to hurt you.

"Crowned Prince Diluc, it is such a pleasure to be at your presence like this." The woman in front of him spoke, yet the Prince's mind was clouded by you. "It is also such an honor to have a chance of being your betrothed." Diluc's mood soured even more at that, he didn't remember the woman's name.

No, you are his only one, his Queen, his future wife.

As the woman's hand snaked from his shoulder onto his neck, Diluc felt more disgusted of himself.

"You know when you just love someone so much that you don't ever see a future without them by your side and if you ever think about them leaving you, you suddenly feel so sad and heartbroken?" You had asked him as he sits on your couch, watching you as you continue on with your knitting.

"That sounds very specific." The redhead rested his head on the couch backrest, smiling whilst looking at you like the lovestruck Prince he is.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I feel about you!" You exclaimed at him, making him chuckle.

"You don't ever need to worry about me leaving you, my Queen. I'll always be here."

He couldn't take it anymore.

Letting go of the woman and front of him, Diluc marched to the entrance of the castle, everyone getting out of his way immediately.

"Diluc, where are you going?!" He heard his father's angry voice behind him. The ballroom was dead quiet as the visitors watch the scene.

His whole body was tensed as he looked back at his father. "I can't do this." He shook his head. "I can't let you choose a bride for me, father. I already know who I want to be with for the rest of my life." His jaw was clenched and his hands were closed tight in frustration.

"As a royal, you are expected to give sacrifices for your kingdom! It makes me question if you're even deserving of the crown!" Diluc didn't mind his father's harsh words, all that's in his mind is how he should go to you right now.

"Father, I assure you that Diluc is perfectly capable of running the kingdom without the help of any other royalties within this room." Kaeya's cold voice rings throughout the ballroom, his words starting a commotion within the crowd.

"Watch what you're saying, Cavalry Captain." The blue-haired man ignored the King's disapproving gesture, looking at his sworn brother.

"Go. I talked to her earlier, it's gonna take some time to talk it through, but you should be good." Kaeya had encouraged him to leave, to go to you. Diluc nodded at him thankfully, turning his heel and running out of the castle in full force, even leaving a small trail of pyro on his path.

The Cavalry Captain looked around, chuckling smugly. "Worry not, visitors. The party should just continue even without the Crowned Prince." With that, he walked away, fashionably as always.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You ignored the rapid knocks at your door, still struggling to remove all the bobby pins that Lisa had styled your hair with.

Of course, a part of you wanted to open the door and hear what he has to say, but apparently you just wanted to be petty.

"Y/N?!" You hear Diluc yell from outside. And a second later, you hear the door crash down.

Immediately, you ran out of your room, looking at what happened. Diluc stood in front of you, your door bended into the wall after he forced it open.

"Are you insane?!"

"Y/N..." He walked to you with anticipation, pulling your body to his and wrapping his arms around your figure.

You pushed him off you right as he did that, "Why are you here?" You really thought that at when you locked eyes with him back at the gala, that would be the last time you'll see each other.

He didn't answer, his hands finding their way on your cheeks.

With an angry expression, you grabbed his wrist and yanked his hands off your face. "Diluc!"

"I..." The prince looked at you with gentleness. "I didn't know that any of that was gonna happen."

"Well, it happened. If that's all, you could just fix my door and go back." You were dismissive, wanting to end the conversation quickly. Probably because just being with him now gives you the urge to just break down into tears and cry in his arms.

Diluc held onto your hands, like he's scared that you'll push him away. "This night... I wanted to finally show you off."

"I wanted to make you feel special, and... I wanted to give you this." He stuck his hand in his pocket, fishing out a small box. He lifted it up for you to see. You looked down at the small box, then looked back up at him, slightly unbelieving. His face encouraged you to open it.

Opening the small box, you saw a ring, embedded with a tiny fiery red crystal, wavy golden lines surrounded the crystal. It was beautiful.

"I am so, so sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I thought that maybe, I could give it to you at the gala..." Diluc's voice died down as you closed the box, handing it back to him. His eyed dropped down onto your hand, as his heart seemed to burn in agony.

He refused to take the box back from you.

"Diluc, don't you see? They don't accept me, they don't accept us! We should be thankful that this happened, we're finally knocked out from our delusion that we could ever be together." He shook his head at your words, pulling your closer to him and instantly pressing your lips together.

You were in shock as he kissed you, his hands wrapping around your waist when you pressed your hands on his chest.

After a few seconds, you pulled away from him, his lips still chasing after yours. "My Y/N would never say that." Diluc had pecked your lips again.

"She would never call it quits." Another kiss.

"Maybe your Y/N changed?" He kissed you again right after you say that.

"It's okay to give up sometimes..." You say, but he shook his head again.

"Then... why are you crying?" Right after he pointed it out, you felt the tears thar managed to escape your eyes without your notice. Immediately, you pull away from his arms and wipe your face with your wrists.

"I... I didn't like seeing you with s-someone else." You start to stutter, feeling pathetic that despite your whole argument, you still feel the love for him.

"I didn't like being with someone else too."

"..."

You looked back down at the box in your hand, sighing a bit. "I don't know what to do anymore." You whispered, opening the box again to see the ring.

"How about..." His hands slowly took the ring from the box, taking your hand in his. "You answer this question."

"Will you marry me?" You chuckled a bit, guessing what he was about to say.

"No, that's not it..." He got down on one knee.

"Y/N, will you suffer through life with me for the rest of eternity and officially be my one and only Queen?" You laughed at that. Life is definitely happiness mixed with a whole lot of suffering.

"You know what? Sure." Diluc smiled as he kissed your hand, before slipping the golden ring onto your ring finger.

You pulled him up, kissing him immediately. "You still have to fix my door though." You hear him chuckle.

"Of course."

There to Hold You(Bakugo Katsuki)

synopsis: reader is overwhelmed and has been keeping everything to themselves. Bakugo hates this, and won’t let them self isolate. a/n: this is incredibly self indulgent but I hope this is as comforting to read as it was to write

cw: crying, being overwhelmed, insecurity and overthinking, idk what else, lemme know if I missed something

——————————————————————————————————

“Something’s wrong.” Katsuki stated, the same way one might say ‘the sky is blue.’

“What makes you think so?” You turned around in your chair to look at your boyfriend. You gave him your most earnest smile, trying to not let happen what he was trying to do. 

You had carefully constructed walls to keep your worst emotions away from people, you had to handle them yourself. You couldn’t rely on anyone else. If Katsuki ever knew how you truly thought and felt, you’d be too much, he wouldn’t be able to handle you, he wouldn’t love you, he’d leave you. 

“Cut the crap. F/n told me you haven’t spoke to them in days, and you aren’t the type for that shit.” He said, studying your face for any kind of response.

When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “They said they messaged you and you didn’t respond. You always respond to everyone immediately, so something has to be wrong.” 

“I’m okay ‘Suki. I’ve just… had a little extra on my plate lately, but I’m alright I swear,” you tried to assure him, even though each word was an absolute lie. 

He squinted. Although impulsive, Katsuki Bakugo is not stupid. Especially not when it comes to you. He may have been a little more aggressive because he was frustrated at himself for not noticing something was off sooner, but he wanted to help you. Because he loves you, and he wants to help you the way you helped and continue to help him. He grabbed your shoulders, making eye contact with you, trying to pry the truth from your eyes. 

You looked away, ashamed and not wanting to spill it all. Insecurity chipped away at you. You were positive he wouldn’t love you if he knew how bad the storm in your mind had gotten. How deep the waters were. 

“No, you’re not alright, dumbass. You’ve been acting overly happy lately, but you’ve been distant. You’re good at putting on an ‘I’m fine’ face, sometimes too damn good, but your eyes are so empty,” admitting his worry for you almost made him want to tear up. 

But he couldn’t, he had to get to the bottom of this. He knew, he personally knew what it was like to keep everything in, to never feel able to tell anyone, to be drowning in your own feelings, thoughts, and troubles. He knew what it was like to keep it all to yourself until you snapped, until you felt beyond repair, until it was too much and impossible to feel sane. And he wouldn’t let that happen to you. 

You shook your head. “Please just drop it, Katsuki, I’m busy, I don’t have time for this,” why was he trying so hard? You had convinced yourself no one cared, no one would care. 

He moved his hands from your shoulders to your face, making you look at him. “I can see that something is wrong, and I refuse to let you deal with it by yourself. You’re only going to make it worse if you don’t tell me. Please,” he said, voice nearly breaking. “Please, tell me. I hate seeing you pretend like you’re okay. We both promised to work on our communication. You’ve seen me at my lowest, and you helped me through it, you loved me when I was a moody, arrogant shitty teen. Why would your problems be any different? I promise you, I won’t judge you for it. You can’t get rid of me. So please, y/n, please. Tell me what’s wrong. Please talk to me,” he was nearly pleading at this point.

You felt your eyes well up with tears. Damn it, you had worked so hard at constructing your walls, but he was bringing them down. Why was he so good at this? You had to divert the attention away from yourself. “Oh? It seems I have the hero Dynamight begging. One would consider this an accomplishment,” you said with a forced giggle. 

“Don’t give me that shit. Don’t do this to me, to yourself,” his tone was softer than you’d ever heard it before, emotion sitting in the back. 

A calloused thumb stroked your cheek. It was a small, mundane, minimal act of affection, but yet it made your emotions go haywire. You looked up, meeting his gaze finally, and it broke you. He looked so genuine. A single tear fell, and that was the drop that made the dam break. The walls cracked, and cracked, and all that you had stored up, kept away carefully, came rushing down. Before you knew it, the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. 

Katsuki felt odd for being happy that you were crying, but he was relieved you finally let it out. He wrapped his arms around your midsection, carefully lifting you to stand. One arm remained wrapped around you, while the other moved to hold the back of your head, carefully bringing your face to rest on his chest. Every sob chipped away at his heart. It had been months since you cried like this, and the last time you did you were alone. It was all so much, you felt as if you were going to crumble to pieces.

But Katsuki held onto you the whole time, though you fell apart he held the pieces in his arms. He didn’t tell you that it’s okay, or that you’re okay, because it’s plain to see that you aren’t, but he repetitively reassured you that he’s here, and he won’t leave. His muscular arms held you close to his heart while you cried it out. You’d been keeping it in for so long, you didn’t even realize all the things you were feeling. It hurt, and it hurt badly. Hurts, pains, stresses, all your grievings flowed like your tears. 

Katsuki pressed the occasional small kiss to your head, gentle reminders that he’s with you. He was never one to be very good with words, and though he’s tried to get better at it, he hoped his shows of affection through acts would be enough to convey to you that he cares. Because he cares so much, so much he can barely contain it, he feels so angry when you feel like this, not at you, not towards you, but angry that he can’t fistfight your feelings so they go away. He began to slowly rock you while you stood, protected by his hold. Had you not been in such a sour state, you would have smiled at this action. 

After what felt like quite awhile, all your tears had dried up, and your body began to feel tired. Though you were resting against him this whole time, your body relaxed more as you became more tired. All the crying you had done zapped your energy. When he recognized this, Katsuki led you to your shared bedroom where he motioned for you to sit on the bed. 

“I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t do anything stupid, you hear me?” He said firmly.

You nodded. You felt so drained after your crying session, but yet a little bit lighter. You didn’t want to admit that Katsuki holding you while you let out your emotions helped, but it really did. While you were comforted by the knowledge of him reassuring you the whole time you cried, your insecurities didn’t go away. Your heart told you that you could trust him, and you knew he loves you, but your mind made you doubt. What if it was all an act? If you actually spoke your mind, vocalized your thoughts and feelings, would that be the end of it for your relationship? 

“Oi, dumbass. Drink up. You’ll get dehydrated,” Katsuki’s voice broke you out of your spiraling thoughts. 

You looked up, and he was handing you a glass of water. You accepted it, taking a few sips before setting it on the nightstand. The blond man took a seat next to you on the bed, slinging his arm around your shoulders, and pulling you closer to him.

“You were thinking. What is it?” 

As you stated at him, tears filled your eyes again, and Katsuki carefully wiped them away with calloused fingers. “I’m just… afraid. What if you think I’m too much? What if you can’t handle my problems? I don’t want to be left, what if-“

“Hey. Cut that shit out. I won’t do any of that, and that’s a promise. When have I ever broken my promises, hm?” 

You smiled faintly. “Never.”

“Exactly. Now tell me what’s going on.”

While you explained, he listened. He’d always listen, and he’d always be there. When you had finished, he gave his two cents, with a fair share of curses. You sighed contentedly. Katsuki was awkward at times, blunt, rash, and could be a little rough around the edges, but his stubbornness wasn’t always a bad thing. He never failed to show you how much he cared. His love for you was so strong it was nearly tangible, like a thread in the air you could almost reach out and grab it. No matter what you were dealing with, he would always be there. While he is a pro hero, he’s not a magician, so he wouldn’t be able to make all your problems disappear, as much as he wishes he could. Sometimes, he couldn’t do anything about the storms raging in your head, but he was there, always there, and that’s all that mattered. As long as you had him to hold you, you’d be content. He’d always be there to drag you out of your isolation, your loneliness.  It wasn’t long before you fell asleep in his arms, and Katsuki would not let you go, even after he himself fell asleep. It was his way of saying “I love you.”

pov: you’re drop dead gorgeous (and they don’t know how to deal with it)

character/s: bakugo katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, kaminari denki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff, crack (?), them hyping u up like there’s no tomorrow, uhh reader wears makeup 🤕

notes: this is for all u pretty mfs aka all of u whether u believe it or not YOU ARE PRETTY AMD HOT AND AMAZING 😡‼️ also disclaimer: the boys love u not just for your face. they think you’re so cool for being beautiful inside n out and this is just them appreciating the out 🧎‍♀️

bakugo katsuki thinks you’re so pretty that his only response to it is to be angry. he’d watch intently the way you’d smooth your clothes down and cutely fiddle with your hair in the mirror as if there’s even anything to fix. he’ll cup your pretty face in his hands and squeeze your cheeks together (cuteness aggression probably), “tell me why you’re so fucking pretty all the time? what are you so pretty for, huh?!”

bakugo katsuki would always watch you do your makeup and hair and then slip into the prettiest clothes only you can pull off and he’s just mesmerized by the whole thing.

“katsuki, please stop drooling and get dressed. we’re gonna be late.”

his only response is: “fuck off.”

because he can never deny nor hide the fact that he constantly admires you every chance he gets. he storms his way to you and snatches a shimmery eyeshadow from your makeup bag. “tch, you don’t even need any of this shit.”

“you don’t like it, katsuki?” you stare up at him doe-eyed, easily making his heart skip a beat.

“h-hah?! i didn’t say that!” he shoves it to your hand, “now do this glittery shit next!”

and you just ditch whatever plans you’d made and spend the rest of the night trying on different makeup looks. he’ll insist that you sit on his lap while you doll yourself up just because, and you gladly do so but then you both end up wearing a full face of glam makeup 🧍‍♀️ he doesn’t know how he just let it happen but he’s like, “whatever makes you fucking happy, y/n.”

he then proceeds to tell you that, “every one of those ugly extras should grovel at your feet, worship the ground you walk on, and then beg for your forgiveness.”

“forgive them for what?”

he stares blankly at you. “for breathing the same air as you.”

bakugo katsuki’s not active on social media at all but on his instagram, his first and only post is a photo dump of just youー the selfies you took on his phone, your date outfits, candid photos (by courtesy of bakugo katsuki) of you smiling at a stray cat, the power nap you took on his shoulder, and his favorite one by far: a photo of you wearing his black tank top that completely swallows you up, holding up two little peace signs on your cheeks.

and of course, he captions it, “u and ur ugly ass wish u were y/n.”

Keep reading

𝟏:𝟓𝟔 𝐀𝐌 | 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈.

“omi, hey! omi,” you nudge sakusa with your hand. he stirs in his sleep, blinking as his sleep hazed eyes open one by one to meet yours.

“huh?” he rubs a hand over his eyes and groans, and the sight of his tousled hair and puffy cheeks makes your heart beat a mile a minute.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, looking down. he stares at you like that for a moment, propped up on his elbows as he registers your words—and why you’ve said them.

sakusa promptly turns to face away from you, greeting you with the sight of his bare back.

“hmph,” he huffs, and you pout, shaking his shoulder to gather his attention once more. by now, you’ve learned sakusa kiyoomi is a very stubborn person.

and sure, you had yelled at him rather harshly for asking you a harmless question, but you were in a bad mood.

he should’ve known that, he’s your boyfriend after all.

“omi,” you whine, shoving his shoulder yet again, putting a little more force into it than last time. he pays you no mind, and you all but throw a temper tantrum at the lack of attention from him.

“that’s kiyoomi to you,” he mumbles.

yeah, you think, it seems he’s still mad.

you were really hoping he wouldn’t be—the second he’d grabbed his pillow and stomped off to the guest room, you’d known you’d gone to far, but the words had slipped before you could stop them from spewing.

but you and sakusa were cut from the same stone, and you know him better than you know yourself.

he won’t be mad for long.

“omi, said i was sorry,” you pout—and if he’d seen the sight, he’d have given in, you’re sure of it. you curse him for facing his back to you.

smart bastard, you think. he’s done it on purpose.

“well, i never said it was okay. it’s not nice to be rude to your boyfriend after a long day. especially when he simply asked what you wanted for dinner.”

“i know,” you murmur. “that’s why i’m here to apologize.”

“well, too bad. he’s not here,” sakusa says through his own heavy pout, laying on his side with his arms crossed. your hand runs softly over his back, and the hurt feelings from before completely dissipate. you hold that power over him.

“can you tell him for me then?” you grin slightly, making him shrug.

“i don’t know, you don’t really deserve to leave him a message.”

“aww, come on,” you whine, leaning down and placing your chin on his shoulder, hand finding it’s way to rub over his bare abs now. they flex under your touch. “he’s got a soft spot for me, i know he does. he’ll listen to the message.” it’s silent for a bit.

“fine, i’ll tell him,” sakusa mumbles eventually. grinning, you press a soft kiss to his neck.

“well, tell him i love him, first of all. i didn’t get a chance to tell him that before bed. and then tell him i’m sorry, and that i was wrong. i shouldn’t have snapped at my boyfriend after a long day. especially after he simply asked what i wanted for dinner.” sakusa grumbles something under his breath, and it sounds awfully close to ‘not good enough’. you roll your eyes at his stubbornness. “and tell him that he’s handsome—the handsomest. and that the bed’s cold without him,” you mumble the last part softly.

and quietly, he sighs, and you know he’s not mad anymore just from the sound alone.

“he’s asking if you’re gonna make it up to him.”

“i think i can think of a few ways,” you giggle, and a small grin spreads across sakusa’s face, a soft, boyish chuckle of his own ringing through the room.

he turns, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. he’s warm, and his arms instantly make your eyes feel slightly heavy—sleeping without sakusa by your side is probably your least favorite experience, as evident from your tossing and turning all night.

“you were really mean to me,” he pouts.

“oh, look who’s back,” you tease, poking the tip of his nose. “and i know, i’m sorry baby. i’ll try to be less snappy next time.” tilting your head up, you press a delicate kiss to his jaw.

“and you call me grumpy,” he says—and of course, it’s in a grumpy tone, but you decide not to point it out.

“well, in my defense, you should’ve known i was in a bad mood. that’s your job as my boyfriend.”

“i didn’t sign up to be a mind reader,” he rolls his eyes. and just like every night, sakusa carefully pulls the covers over your body, making sure you’re carefully tucked in before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. you smile, a wave of emotion hitting you at his actions.

loving him is so easy, and you can’t imagine ever stopping.

“hey, you never said i love you back,” you pout, poking his chest. he swats your hand away, closing his eyes and tugging you closer.

“go to sleep,” he grumbles. and, with pure fondness and a soft tone he reserves only for you, he mumbles out, “i love you too. jerk.”

it’s a shame the pettiness holds no exceptions for even you, however.

back on my reposting from old blog bullshit

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

I.

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year. 

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face. 

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue. 

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer. 

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places. 

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly. 

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him. 

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side. 

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now. 

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” 

V.

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure. 

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing. 

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his. 

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

2:08 a.m. — Kuroo Tetsurou

❀ best friends to lovers

“Are you asleep?”

Kuroo’s voice was soft as it sounded from next to you. He tried to keep quiet, not wanting to wake you, but there was something that was keeping him up.

After a brief moment of silence he peaked his head up from his pillow to look at you.

Your arm was tucked under your pillow as you hugged it to you. Strands of your hair fell perfectly into your eyes and your chest rose and fell slowly in your slumber.

You never looked more beautiful in Kuroo’s eyes than you did now.

As badly as he wanted to talk to you about what was making his chest burn, seeing you like this was more important.

He shifted slowly trying not to stir the bed too much as he tried to get closer to you, his head now resting on the pillow next to yours instead of at the foot of the bed.

“You’re so beautiful…” He mumbled, his hand just a mere inch away from your face now.

He wanted to brush the hair from your eyes, to kiss every part of your face goodnight. He wanted to hug you into his chest while you used him as a pillow.

More than any time he’d felt this before, he wanted to tell you how he felt. He’d been your best friend for a long time but in the past few months he loved you more than a friend should.

“God damn why are you so perfect. You make this so hard, you know.”

He whispered turning to lay on his back now and shutting his eyes softly.

The image of you asleep with the smallest of smiles touching your lips was burned into the dark side of his eyes.

“When are you going to let me tell you how in love I am with you?”

As he slowly fell asleep to the image of you, he missed your smile grow bigger.

He didn’t need to know you’d been awake since he slipped under the covers, you could always tell him the same thing in the morning.

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