Summary: A chance encounter in the Shibuya Train Station leaves you with a sore shoulder and a mysterious bento box. You’re willing to write the incident off and move on, otherwise preoccupied with navigating a new city and a new job, but a bombastic blond, meddling friend, and fate itself seem to have other plans.
Genre: Pro Hero AU, fluff, strangers to lovers, medical setting
Tonkatsu - A Japanese dish consisting of a breaded, deep-fried pork cutlet. It is often served as a set meal with shredded cabbage, rice, miso soup, and pickles.
A crescendo of loud voices and heavy footfalls crested over you as you neared your destination. You grimaced, wanting to turn around and go back home, although that wasn’t an option here. Unfortunately, you weren’t in the train station. Those people you could handle. These were a different breed all together, and one you would rather die than face. In front of you, surrounding the main entrance to the hospital, was a sea of overly-eager reporters.
News of where Red Riot and Chargebolt were staying must have gotten leaked to the general public, although it also wouldn’t have been too difficult to figure out. Your hospital was the biggest one in the area, and it was also closest to where the attack had occurred. You tried to sneak around the outskirts of the mob attempting to get in, but your blue scrubs gave you away.
“Excuse me, do you work here?” one reporter asked, a young woman with pointed glasses and even pointier eyebrows drawn onto her face. You nodded quickly and tried to continue on your path, but it was too late. The crowd descended.
“Do you work with Red Riot and Chargebolt?”
“What are the conditions of the heroes?”
“Would you be willing to offer up a tour of the facility for an exclusive interview with our team?”
“When will the heroes be released from the hospital?”
They were most likely accosting you simply because you worked at the hospital. They had no reason to know that you did in fact work with Red Riot and Chargebolt. Still, you began to sweat at the thought that they had somehow figured it out, that they were targeting you specifically, and that they wouldn’t let you go until they had wrung every last detail from your body.
“I can’t answer your questions right now! I’m just trying to get to work,” you responded, trying to push your way through. This, however, was the wrong thing to say. You thought your answer was neutral, but the reporters latched on to your statement like a dog sinking its teeth into a prime cut of steak.
“So you confirm that you have information on the heroes Red Riot and Chargebolt?”
“If not now, then when would we be able to set up an interview with you?”
“What is it like to play nurse for two of the top ten? Are they still as charmingly handsome while infirmed? Hero Heartthrob wants to know.”
The last comment made your memory flash to a serene-looking Chargebolt, in a coma for the foreseeable future, and your blood began to boil. Who even were these people, to demand such things from you or anyone else for that matter?
“Don’t you have something better to do than harassing any poor medical personnel who enters these doors? What about reporting on the families of the injured civilians, or the manhunt for the villain? Go do your actual job and leave me alone to do mine.”
The reporters quieted in shock, and you braced yourself for the flurry of backlash that was sure to be unleashed your way. But it never came. Instead, their gazes morphed into something close to fear as the silenced stretched on. You failed to suppress a small smirk in victory, happy that even if you didn’t have their respect, as you doubted they ever respected anyone, you at least had their attention.
However, as they continued to stare at you, you began to feel a little uneasy, since they weren’t clearing a path for you either. You looked at the girl with pointy glasses who you now realized wasn’t staring at you, but at something directly behind your ear. You turned to look, but a deep voice boomed from behind, freezing you in place.
“You heard her. Scram.”
It was amazing to see how quickly the reporters could move when pressured. They parted cleanly down the middle, fleeing like beetles who had their dark log overturned and exposed to the sunlight. You finally turned to face one very ticked-off Bakugou, complete in full hero costume with a backpack slung over his shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest and a frown dipping the edges of his lips.
Despite his expression, you couldn’t help your small smile of gratitude. Playfully rolling your eyes, you motioned to the door, holding it open for him to enter. “You know, I thought that the reporters were actually scared of me for a second there. It felt nice.”
He chucked low in his chest, refusing your offer until you went in first. “It was quite a sight to walk up on: seeing some random nurse mouth off to a bunch of reporters like that. It was almost impressive, if you had upped your intimidation factor more.”
You huffed in frustration. “Would it kill you to give an actual compliment?”
“Yes.”
His words were harsh, but there was a slight bounce to his step that indicated he wasn’t completely serious. However, as the two of you made your way to the special ICU wing, his footfall became heavy, and all mirth slipped from his body replaced with a somber resignation. The change in atmosphere dampened your mood as well, and even more so as you heard raised voices coming from room 3307.
“I just don’t understand why I wasn’t informed of this decision until right now,” Gia said, her piercing voice echoing off the walls. She was standing in the center of the room, her arms crossed as she was facing Dr. Hiyashi with thinly veiled contempt.
For his part, Dr. Hiyashi looked surprisingly calm, although very weary from yesterday’s events. “The decision was made by myself and other nursing administrators. I appreciate your concern for these two top priority patients, but overall the hospital needs your talents of Diagnosis with the larger multitude of other patients.”
“But I could ensure that they are provided with whatever care they might need. Much more accurately than she could.”
Her attention had turned to you, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the doorway. You weren’t sure whether you were allowed to enter during this conversation, but it seemed now that the choice had been made for you. You opened your mouth to respond, but then closed it. She might have been throwing a fit, but you couldn’t help but feel there was some truth to her words. It was a concern that had kept you up last night, when you had been replaying the day in your mind, and it surfaced once again, trying to drag you down into the depths of uncertainty.
“Oh yeah? What’s she doing wrong, then? If my friends aren’t being taken care of, I want to know.” Bakugou took this chance to make his presence known, stepping out from behind you. Gia’s eyes, which had previously been glaring at you, widened in surprise at his appearance. She at least had the good sense to look chagrined by her previous statement, now knowing that she had an audience.
She blinked, regaining her composure before giving Bakugou her most practiced smile. “I was just implying that if something did go wrong, my quirk Diagnosis would be much better suited for caring for them.”
She had dodged his question, and Bakugou didn’t appreciate it in the slightest. “She’s already been taking care of them for a full day now. If something’s wrong with them, then you should be able to tell, right? Use your quirk to see.”
She looked over at Dr. Hiyashi, who simply shrugged. It was obvious he wanted this conversation over with. She sauntered over to Red Riot first, reaching out to touch his shoulder. The tell-tale green glow that emanated from her hand signaled that her quirk was in use. After several seconds, she retracted her hand, making a show of staring intensely staring at his monitors. She did the same to Chargebolt, walking back to the center of the room with a hand on her chin. The average onlooker would think she was troubled by something, but you knew that look to be one of calculation. A pit formed in your stomach as you realized she was planning something.
“Well?” Bakugou demanded, his full force directed at Gia. He stepped closer to her, not enough to be in her personal space, but enough that she had to look up to meet his gaze. “Stop the scheming and give me an answer. I don’t have all day.”
Your eyebrows raised and so did hers, shocked at being caught. She swallowed, attempting to clear her throat before answering. “Chargebolt is in perfectly fine condition right now, and so is Red Riot.”
“Then what are you still doing here?” He pointed back to you. “She can obviously handle things by herself.”
“But if something happened unexpectedly-”
“I’m sure could also handle it because that’s literally her job. Just like it’s your job to work somewhere else. I don’t get what’s so confusing about this.”
Gia was the first to break eye contact, glancing down to the side. You almost felt bad for her. Being on the receiving end of Bakugou’s bluntness looked like an absolute nightmare. Then again, with the number of times she had made your life miserable, you mainly felt a sense of second-hand victory.
“We can continue this conversation elsewhere,” she said, turning to Dr. Hiyashi. While she couldn’t bring herself to admit defeat, she did exit the room as fast as she could, not even sparing you a glance as you left. Your gaze landed on Bakugou, who had a smirk plastered on his face as he watched her leave.
Dr. Hiyashi coughed into his hand, drawing the attention back on him. “While I might agree with the sentiments you spoke out about, I must ask you to refrain from speaking to any staff under my care in that manner again.”
You thought Bakugou might try to pick a fight with him as well, but it seemed as though even he could put on a filter when necessary. He gave a quick bow of his head in apology to the man. “I understand, Doc. As long as she doesn’t come in here and try to start running things again, we won’t have a problem.”
‘So close,’ you thought, watching Dr. Hiyashi’s shoulders sag. He rubbed his temple, pushing up the hair on his forehead. You swore you heard the words “it’s too early for this” mumbled from his lips. Nonetheless, he turned to face you, holding out a clipboard.
“We’re still doing some blood work on them, but for right now, things continue to remain the same. We’re also still trying to determine the exact composition of the toxins flowing through their system. I’ll let you know when more results come back. For now, you’ve been doing a good job at keeping things stable.”
You nodded, and he left as well, eager to be out of the room. Now only you and Bakugou remained. Despite the tap of his foot, he did seem to relax a little once it was just the two of you. His shoulders loosened, and he stretched his arms high above his head before wandering over to the side of both of his friends’ beds, inspecting their faces closely before sitting on the couch.
“Thank you.”
You broke the silence with a low bow to the man on the couch. It was perhaps a little humiliating, but after the stunt he just pulled against Gia, you thought it might be okay to stroke his ego, just this once.
He grinned in response. “Believe me when I say that it was my pleasure. She seemed like a pain, and I definitely would rather deal with you over her.”
“Of course…” you trailed off. You’re not sure whether to be flattered by the statement.
To take your mind off of the enigma that was Bakugou, you look down at the clipboard in your hands. The blood tests that had come back already showed no other symptoms or new areas of concern, which you considered a win. However, the toxin seemed to keep them in this comatose state, with no progress made toward uncovering its nature or cure. You adjusted the IVs according to the doctor’s notes, in hopes of flushing out the toxins from Chargebolt’s body.
You had zoned in on your work, focusing only on Chargebolt and momentarily forgetting the other person in the room. However, as you turned away from your patient’s bed, you were met with Bakugou’s garnet gaze, focused completely on you as you worked. You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling slightly nervous, and he seemed to snap out of whatever thoughts he was buried in.
“Do you eat lunch here?”
The question threw you off guard, and you scrambled for the right words. “Like, as in here here? No. But as in the hospital here? Most of the time, although I didn’t have enough time to make a lunch last night, so I’ll have to stop by a convenience store.”
He squinted his eyes, appearing to weigh the options of his next words in his head. “Don’t.”
“Huh?” you asked intelligently. “I need to eat, Bakugou.”
He rolled his eyes. “I know that. Eat with me, dumbass. It’s my turn anyways.”
With that, he reached into his backpack, pulling out a bento wrapped in pale orange cloth. Your heart stuttered in your chest before beating with increasing intensity. He had cooked for you, again. And not only had he cooked for you, but now he wanted to eat with you too?
“What’s on the menu?” you joked, trying to take your mind off of the glaring implications of eating lunch with Bakugou.
He gave you a cutting smile in response. “You’ll just have to come back and see, but I promise it’ll be the best damn thing you ever ate.”
His words were extremely cocky, but you couldn’t help but believe him. They rattled around in your mind for the rest of your shift like loose coins in a dryer, incessant words that resurfaced right when you were beginning to think you were over them. Of course, it didn’t help that you had told Hina about the whole interaction, and she now shot you suggestive eyebrow raises and winks every time you looked in her direction.
Just as your luck would have it, you were incredibly busy. You counted down as the minutes ticked by, first in anticipation, and then in dread once your lunch break hit but you were still on your feet. You tried to finish your tasks as quickly as you could, but between chatty patients and an influx of visitors, you bitterly watched your lunch break slip away until a meager 15 minutes remained.
You all but sprinted to the special wing of the hospital in the time you had left, needing a moment to compose yourself before entering room 3307. Bakugou was right where you left him, leaning forward on his elbows and lost in thought as he examined a mess of papers he had spread out on the coffee table. Upon your entrance, he looked up, his trance broken. He flashed a grin before beginning to shove the papers into a manila folder.
“Almost thought you ditched me,” he said, motioning you to sit in the chair closest to him.
You complied, fighting the urge to wring your hands. “I got caught up in my shift, unfortunately. It felt like everyone had something to say to me today, which isn’t awful, but you know, definitely puts me behind. I’m sorry to make you wait.”
He shrugged, passing you the pale orange bento box before fishing around in his backpack. After a second of digging, he was successful, pulling out a sage green bento with small, smiling hand grenades decorating the fabric. He flinched as you couldn’t contain the laugh bubbling from your throat at the sight.
“It was a gag gift from Shitty Hair over there, after he noticed I kept bringing my lunches wrapped up in that orange one. Said it was ‘manly’ or some shit.”
He rolled his eyes as he said it, but you noticed that once unwrapped, he folded the fabric into a neat square before setting it beside him, away from the food. His gaze turned to you, and you realized he was waiting for you to open the box still clasped in your hands. You unwrapped it with care. Taking in a deep breath, a broad smile crossed your face as you hummed in satisfaction.
Neatly cut and almost professionally presented in the bento was the best looking tonkatsu you had ever seen. The pork cutlet was fried to perfection, with small flecks of red in the otherwise golden batter denoting a hint of something spicy. Next to it was a bed of shredded cabbage with thinly sliced pickles on top. On the second layer, furikake rice took up the majority of the space, with blanched greens and a sliced tomato occupying the left corner in lieu of the traditional miso.
You licked your lips in anticipation, muttering a quick blessing of thanks before eagerly picking up your chopsticks. You loved the taste of fried food, but you hated the act of actually frying it. That’s part of the reason you were so impressed with the tonkatsu. Then again, with a quirk that literally creates explosions, you supposed a little hot oil wouldn’t be an issue. The other reason you were so impressed with the tonkatsu, was because, well -
“This is amazing,” you mumbled, mouth full of food.
“I told you it would be the best.” Bakugou preened at your compliment, almost glaring at you accusingly for your lack of faith.
You held your hands up in mock surrender. “And I believed you! I had my doubts from the curry, but ever since the mapo tofu and now this, I have full faith in your cooking.”
At that, he let out a small choke, swallowing his rice hastily before replying, “Hey, what’s wrong with my curry?”
“You know what’s wrong with your curry!” you stressed. “It was too spicy. Plus, you used squash, which is a questionable choice to be sure.”
“What, you can’t eat your veggies?” he mocked.
You gave him an unimpressed look, making a show of shoveling the largest bite of cabbage and pickles you could get into your mouth. You chewed without breaking eye contact, smiling as you swallowed. “No, I like almost all vegetables, thank you very much. Just not squash.”
Your mind began to wander, the talk of vegetables reminding you of the myriad of plant life you have back at your apartment, courtesy of Shiozaki. “I’ve been experimenting with some different spices lately too. Ever since I moved, I have an abundance of them at my disposal.”
“You’re new here?”
“Moved to the city for my rotationals, although I hope to end up here one day. It’s definitely been a big change though.” You trailed off as you thought about your time in the city, with all of its challenges so far.
“I hope I can make it,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Bakugou, but he heard you easily in the otherwise silent room.
“Aren’t you making it right now?” He gave you a quizzical look, and you averted your eyes before responding.
“Yes, but I’m still in school right now. It’s all structured. Once I graduate, I’ll be out on my own, and I’ll need to figure out a job, and friends, and my life, and-”
“And you will.”
You looked up at him, surprised by the finality in his tone. At your worry, he had tensed up once again, leaning forward on his elbows towards you with his eyebrows furrowed. You thought he would have joked about your rambling, but the glint in his eye was nothing but sincere.
“And how can you be so confident about that, hm?” You tried to draw out your question, make it sound more like a joke, but the words fell flat. You smiled, but you were certain that the underlying current of uncertainty made it look more like a grimace.
“Because it’s true, if you have enough guts.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, hoping for more of an explanation than simply “guts,” but the tinny boom of a thousand tiny explosions rang throughout the room as his cellphone went off. You hid your laugh behind your hand as he answered. He seemed deeply pissed to be disturbed by whoever was on the other line, but surprisingly obedient. After what you would consider minimal grousing on his part, he ended the call, sighing as he began to pack up his backpack.
“Sorry, but the boss called. I have to go in for an emergency meeting,” he grumbled. He was frowning as he said it, and it almost seemed like he wanted to stay a little bit longer due to his slow movements. He reached for your bento box out of instinct, but you leaned away, clutching the empty box to your chest.
“It’s my turn to cook now,” you grinned, shaking your head and holding the box as far away from him as you could.
He could have easily gotten it from you, but he quickly gave up, zipping up his backpack instead. “I guess it is. Better make me something good.”
You scoffed, gaining the courage to tease. “Don’t I always?”
At this, he fully laughed. “Yeah, you do.”
You beamed at the compliment, and Bakugou quickly looked away, fiddling with the straps of his backpack before standing up in a rush.
You thought nothing of it, walking with him out of the room and down the twisting hallways until you arrived at the entrance of the ICU wing. After giving one more heartfelt thanks for the meal, you watched him leave before returning to your regular duties, feeling time tick by just a little bit slower.
The rest of your afternoon was excruciatingly painful, not because you injured yourself, but because you were stuck behind the desk of the visitor’s check-in due to a nurse calling in sick last-minute. It wasn’t that you necessarily hated visitors. Most of them were just concerned family members, and you couldn’t fault them if they were a little weepy or frazzled. However, it seemed as though the majority of visits had occurred in the morning, and the waiting room was left unnaturally empty.
While the quiet was welcome, it was rather boring after a while, so you began to busy yourself with updating patient files within the system. It wasn’t the most fun work, and it was normally handed off to an intern or other assistant, but it was better than sitting there doing nothing. You had finally gotten into the flow when a soft cough sounded above you, ripping your focus away from the screen.
You looked up, coming face-to-face with a humongous bouquet, all different varieties of flowers but all in some shade of vibrant red. The arrangement was beautiful, but it was so large that the person holding it was completely lost behind the florals.
“How can I help you?” you asked.
The flowers rustled before a timid voice spoke from behind them. You had to lean forward in order to even hear it. “Uh, I’m here to see Red Riot, if I can?”
Your shoulders dropped at the comment, happy that your exasperated expression was obscured by the gift. The agencies of both Red Riot and Chargebolt had released an official statement telling the public that all gifts for the heroes should be directed to them for both safety and privacy reasons. However, it seemed like this fan didn’t seem to get the memo. You were mildly surprised that they had even narrowed it down to your wing of the hospital specifically, but you figured that if the ravenous news reporters could figure it out, a devoted fan could as well.
Nonetheless, you pasted on your best customer service face before answering. “I’m sorry! As officially announced by the Fatgum Agency, you need to direct all cards and gifts to them instead of us. I cannot accept this.”
The vase shook with more agitation, and a couple of lily petals scattered to the ground in the disturbance. “Oh, uh, you don’t understand! I’m not a fan of Kiri’s. I mean, I am a fan, but not just a fan. Um, I’m here to see how he’s doing and to drop this off on behalf of the Fatgum agency.”
After a moment of hesitation, during which more petals were dislodged, the vase was quickly set on the ground out of your view. The stranger stood up to properly introduce himself, but you were already gaping at him, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment. You were an idiot, a complete and utter idiot. You resisted the incredible urge to bang your head on the desk in front of you in frustration. How many times had you heard that voice before? Only every other lunch break. Hina would never let you hear the end of this.
Standing before you, hands fiddling with the strings of his indigo hoodie, was none other than the Number 12 Pro-Hero Suneater.
“Of-of course. I’m so sorry about the confusion.” This time it was your turn to trip over words.
“No, no it’s really my bad. I should have introduced myself properly. I’m sure you’ve gotten some excited fans already. Sorry,” he replied, looking down at the floor.
You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault at all, and that you were the one who was in the wrong, but you knew the conversation would go on interminably. Previous interviews proved that to be the case. Instead, you shook your head, your air of customer service being replaced by a genuine smile.
“While I’d like to disagree with you about that, let’s just say it’s both of our faults and call it a truce, okay?”
He nodded in approval, giving up as you continued your spiel. “For protocol, do you have a valid form of identification on you? I just need to see it before you can go back and see Red Riot.”
His eyes widened in surprise, as though he had forgotten about this step. He began to rummage through his pockets, muttering apologies as he did so. You brushed them off with a chuckle, watching as he dug through the pockets of his pants, hoodie, and finally the jean jacket he was wearing on top if it. You had to admit, he might not have been your type on page, but in-person, he was pretty cute. Hina had a point.
‘Hina-’ you mused. ‘What she wouldn’t give to be here right now…’
“Here you go,” Suneater said, breaking your train of thought by finally producing his license to you. You took it from him quickly, looking at both sides just to be safe before returning it. Of course it was the real thing, because of course, this was the real Suneater before you. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
You stood up from your chair, walking over to the intercom on the wall. You coughed once, clearing your voice before pressing the button.
“Nurse Hina, please come to the visitor’s desk. Repeat: Nurse Hina, please come to the visitor’s desk. Special request. Over.”
You returned to your seat before glancing up at Suneater, who seemed rather alarmed by your actions. You tried to don a mask of cool professionalism, but you’re pretty sure the corner of your mouth twitched upward as you began to explain the situation to him.
“Nurse Hina has been placed with the specific task of caring for Red Riot during his stay. Both he and Chargebolt are being kept in a special access wing, so she will escort you to their room.”
Suneater relaxed at this statement, not noticing how your eyes sparkled with mischief. Sure, you had access to the same wing that Hina did, and yes, you were currently on duty for visitor requests specifically, but Suneater didn’t know that. If things went according to plan, he never would.
The sound of footsteps were rapidly approaching behind you, and you turned in your chair to see a flustered Hina.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” she gasped out.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Nurse Hina. A special request has come in to visit Red Riot, and as the presiding nurse in charge of his care, you will be escorting this visitor there.”
Hina looked at you with complete and utter confusion, and you silently begged her to play along. Your eyes darted back and forth to the visitor area where Suneater stood, and she had the good sense to follow your gaze before saying anything first.
You knew the exact moment she registered who was behind the window. Her spine instantly straightened, and her eyes grew wide until the whites were clearly visible. You subtly bumped her shoulder as you passed her to open the door, attempting to break her out of her stupor. It worked, and she followed you out of the door to properly greet Suneater, although she still looked like she was in a daze.
“Nurse Hina, this is Suneater. He’s come on behalf of the Fatgum agency to deliver this bouquet and to check on Red Riot. Suneater, this is Nurse Hina. She will be taking you to Red Riot’s room, and she is here to answer any questions you might have about him.”
The two bowed politely to each other, muttering basic formalities before Suneater bent over to pick up the absurdly large bouquet of flowers once again. He nearly dropped the vase a couple of times, clearly preoccupied as his gaze remained fixated on Hina instead of the object in his hands. He eventually used his quirk to provide extra stability so he could hold the flowers with one hand against his hip while still keeping his face uncovered. You swore Hina squeaked when she saw the tentacles come out.
At this point, it felt as though both people had completely forgotten your presence, but it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You watched the scene unfolding in front of you with unbridled glee.
“The flowers are beautiful. I’m sure he’ll love them once he wakes up,” Hina commented as she held the door open for him. You slipped in after them, going back to the desk as they continued down the hallway.
“I’m glad you think so. Fatgum made me pick them out. I don’t have much experience with doing that type of thing, but I know he likes the color red, and so I just chose some that seemed to work together,” Suneater mumbled, but Hina had caught every word he said.
She nodded enthusiastically. “And they do! I especially love the tiger lilies. They’re my favorite.”
Suneater latched on to the statement, giving her the first genuine smile you had seen from him all day. “Oh really? Mine too!”
Their voices faded as they walked down the hallway, and you squealed the second you were sure they were out of earshot. You didn’t hear from Hina for the rest of your shift, but if anything, you took that as an extremely good sign. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful in comparison, but it hardly mattered.
All you could think about was that, without a doubt, this was the most eventful day of your life. That, and you were officially the best friend ever in the whole entire world.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading this chapter! It was supposed to be a short one, but it ended up being the longest yet. Since it ended up so long and I traveled for the holiday season, I am unfortunately pushing the release of chapter 5 back to Dec. 8th (unless I miraculously write it in like 4 days). Sorry about that! I’m hoping that the extra time will be able to give me back the buffer I had built up before. Thanks so much for your understanding!
As always, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated, but please do not repost here or on other platforms. However, fan arts, edits, or anything like that are beyond amazing and totally welcome! If you have a question about it, just ask me.
SUMMARY: Bakugou’s hot, smart, a literal hero, and best of all, he’s the best roommate you’ve ever had. Sure he’s grumpy a lot of the time and he’s a terror if you’re too loud after he’s gone to bed, but he cooks! He cleans!! Who can blame you for developing a little crush on him?
You’ve managed to keep it under wraps for the better part of a year. It’s just your luck that the day you’re hit by a quirk that removes your brain to mouth filter is the day Bakugou breaks routine. He comes home a little too early from the gym in a tight black compression shirt that’s made its way into several of your fantasies, and instead of saying hello, you blurt out—
“Fuck, you’re so hot.”
TAGS: roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, reader with afab body parts, reader referred to as “girl,” pet name “baby,” mutual pining
WORD COUNT: 2.6K
AUTHOR’S NOTE:This is a drabble-turned-oneshot based on an ask I received while playing the fanfic trope mashup ask game! ✨ If you read what I wrote in reply to that ask, you’ll recognize the first section of this, but don’t worry—there’s like 2.3K of new content (mostly smut…) after it. Hugs and kisses to everyone who sent me asks for the mashup game! Without you guys, I wouldn’t have written this. 💖
“You home, dumbass?” Bakugou’s voice drifts into the kitchen from the entryway, followed by the sound of his keys jingling as he hangs them up on the hook in the hallway.
You freeze, cup of water half-raised to your mouth.
He’s not supposed to be home this early. When he goes to the gym, he stays for at least an hour.
“Yeah,” you croak out, gripping the counter with your other hand. You set the glass down.
Maybe he’ll head straight to his room. Maybe he won’t come in here. It’d look even more suspicious if you tried to make a break for it. Shit, you should’ve gone to your room while you had the chance.
Bakugou strides into the kitchen, setting his water bottle near the sink. You can only stand there, like a deer in headlights.
He’s in shorts and a tight, black compression shirt, the material hugging his skin. His biceps look amazing, and your eyes snag on his pecs. He has that annoying hero dorito build, broad shoulders tapering into a tiny waist.
Bakugou raises an eyebrow at you before turning to open the fridge.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you say. Your eyes widen and your hands come up, belatedly, to slap over your mouth.
He stops mid-motion, and you stare in horror as he turns to look at you, those crimson eyes wide in a rare expression of surprise.
“Fuck,” you say again. Before he can say anything, you sprint to your room.
Just as you close the door and lock it, you hear Bakugou’s footsteps come to a stop outside it.
There’s a simmering moment of silence before he says, “What the hell was that?”
You groan and make painful noises into your hands.
“I’m sorry! I was hit by a quirk today!”
“What the fuck? Go to the hospital!” he snarls.
“I did,” you say through the door. “They told me to go home, that it’d wear off in a day or two.”
“…What’s the quirk?” Bakugou growls.
You bite your lip.
“Not telling,” you say.
“Open the door,” Bakugou growls, and you shiver. It’s not in fear, or out of intimidation.
“No,” you say.
“Open the damn door or I’ll break it,” Bakugou says, voice even. It alarms you more than his yelling does. You know when he gets like this he’s dead serious.
“You wouldn’t do that,” you say a little unsteadily. “We’d lose our deposit and then some!”
“Fuck the deposit.”
“Bakugou—”
“Last chance.”
You swallow. You unlock the door and open it slightly, just enough to create a gap to poke your head through.
“What do you want?” you say warily.
Bakugou’s eyes lock on your face. He steps forward.
He pushes the door open with one hand, crossing the threshold into your room. Despite yourself, you find yourself moving backwards as he presses into your space, inch by inch.
You bump up against your dresser, back to it, before he stops, crowds you. He puts his arms on the dresser on either side of you. The flash you get of his biceps and the stretch of his shirt across his chest as he leans in overwhelms you before his gaze compels you to meet his.
Summary: A chance encounter in the Shibuya Train Station leaves you with a sore shoulder and a mysterious bento box. You’re willing to write the incident off and move on, otherwise preoccupied with navigating a new city and a new job, but a bombastic blond, meddling friend, and fate itself seem to have other plans.
Genre: Pro Hero AU, fluff, strangers to lovers, medical setting
Oyakodon - a donburi (rice bowl) dish where chicken, egg, scallion, and other ingredients are simmered together in a sweet and salty broth, served over a large bowl of rice. Oyakodon is a popular comfort food in Japan.
You were going to kill him. You were going to take your homemade bowl of oyakodon which you had so painstakingly prepared and dump it all over his smug face. When you saw him next, you weren’t going to hold back. That is, if you ever saw him next.
You were leaning against the wall of the train station, arms crossed and most likely scaring off anyone within a five-foot radius. Your knuckles were white with rage from clutching the bento you had prepared that morning, your one morning off. You could have been tucked into your warm bed, dreaming sweet thoughts about anything other than the asshole who was extremely late.
You pushed yourself off of the wall, making your way back up the stairs of the station. You had arrived fifteen minutes earlier than usual, since he always seemed to be here before you. Watching the trains come and go, you counted down the minutes until it was ten minutes after your usual stop. Then twenty. Then thirty. You normally tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, but by now, your brain had completely run dry of excuses.
The good-smelling asshole wasn’t coming, and you were a complete and utter fool.
You pulled out your phone as you walked. Opening Hina’s contact, you began to tell her about the unfortunate conclusion to your “meet-cute” and to berate her for filling your head with rom-com scenarios that would never actually happen. As you sent the message, a notification chimed which made you stop in your tracks.
Come to the hospital now. It’s an all-staff emergency. -Gia
How Gia got your number, you had no idea. It must have been on file, or maybe she bullied it out of Hina. Either way, the message made your skin crawl, a cold chill creeping down your spine. You had no clue what could constitute such an ominous and urgent text, but you would find out soon enough.
As you waited for the next train, you began to see signs that something was indeed off. The train station was as busy as ever, but instead of people getting on to the trains, you noticed that the majority of people were leaving the station as quickly as they could. Looking left and right, only ten other people were waiting for your train to the central downtown and medical area. Usually, the queues would extend ten or twelve people deep, not total. The train pulled into the station, its doors opening to let a flurry of passengers out but then promptly closing before you could get on. The sound of soft chimes echoed through the train station, and a pit formed in your stomach as you heard a cheery voice through the speakers.
“Announcement: We regret to inform all passengers that the Yamanote train line is delayed until further notice due to villainous activity. Estimated time of departure is unknown.”
Groans and unhappy muttering erupted around you, and you tried your best to not scream in frustration. As if your day couldn’t get any worse. Jogging out of the train station, you were at least fortunate enough to find a taxi after only five minutes of waiting. The diver was an elderly man with a soft voice, who openly balked when you told him your destination.
“Are you sure you want to go that way, miss?” he questioned. “The whole area is blocked off right now due to the attack this morning. They’re not letting anyone in.”
You sighed, pulling out your nurse’s badge from your pocket. “I work at the Tokyo Central Hospital and was just called in. If I’m on duty because of the attack, then they should let me through.”
The man nodded in agreement before pulling out onto the road. “Normally, the trip is about twenty-five minutes, but with the traffic and blockades, I’m not sure how long it will take.”
“That’s okay,” you said, leaning against the door. “I’ve had a morning of waiting.”
Pulling out your phone, you tried to find more information on the most recent events. The search proved easy, with an attack on a public parade hosting the top heroes being the only topic reported on.
“So a hero parade got attacked?” you muttered, more to yourself than the driver. However, the man heard your question, glancing back at you in the rear-view mirror.
“From what I heard, it was by a whole group of villains! I don’t know the specifics, but apparently one of them had a super powerful quirk that knocked out two of the top ten heroes there instantly. The other villains participating in the attack got captured, but the powerful one still remains at large.”
The driver shook his head. “To think what the world has come to. Every day, I hear of more and more villainous activity. Maybe it’s time for me to retire.”
You hummed in agreement, the car falling into a comfortable silence as glass storefronts and busy pedestrians passed by in a blur. You tried to reason that walking into such a dangerous area was simply part of the job. If you had chosen paramedics over pediatrics as your profession, you would have been in a lot more danger on a regular basis. Nonetheless, your stomach became uneasy at the thought of walking the streets so close to the incident with someone still at large. Whoever these villains were that attacked the parade were either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave, probably a hefty mixture of both. And the fact that one of them managed to incapacitate two top ten heroes on spot - you weren’t very familiar with the hero charts or rankings, but you knew anyone in the top twenty could kick some serious ass. After all, Suneater was number twelve, and from the shaky live footage that Hina had shown you, he looked terrifying to oppose when he was focused and fighting.
Eventually, the car slowed, pulling over to the curb. You were still about two blocks away from the hospital, but bright orange barricades and police cars prevented any further travel.
“I’m afraid this is as far as I can go, miss,” the driver said.
He bowed his head in a slight apology, but you waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. We knew I wouldn’t have been able to make it all the way to the hospital by car anyway. Thank you for your help!”
You paid the man, hopping out of the car and walking up to the barricade with all of the confidence you could muster. As expected, the policemen on duty immediately stopped you from progressing. However, with a quick word and a flash of your badge, you found yourself being officially escorted to the hospital.
Things were in utter chaos when you arrived. Worried families crowded the waiting rooms of the ICU: Quirk-Related Injury floor, and you were happy to slip into the back away from all of the noise. Throwing on your pair of emergency scrubs that you kept in the back of your locker, you were heading toward the nurse’s station to receive instructions when you quite literally ran into Dr. Hayashi.
His normally pristine white coat was crumpled, and his hair looked tousled, as though he had run his hands through it one too many times. Despite this, he still gave you a kind smile, reaching out to steady you. “Just who I was looking for! Thank you for coming in on such short notice. As you can see, that attack on the parade created an ‘all-hands-on-deck’ situation.”
He turned on heel, gesturing you to follow him down the hallway and toward the patient rooms. “Normally in these events, the villains only target the heroes, and civilian injuries can be kept to a minimum. However, this group appeared to do the opposite: targeting the citizens with their quirks in a quick attack while using only one person to subdue the heroes. That’s why we have so many people in our unit right now and why having you here to help us is so vital.”
He took you down two long hallways leading farther and farther away from the main rooms, stopping in front of a set of large double doors. Swiping his access card, he gave you an encouraging nod as he ushered you in, seeing your reluctance. You had never been in this wing of the hospital before, as it was for critical emergencies or high-profile individuals. On your introductory tour, it was firmly impressed upon you that you would most likely never have the chance to enter the area, either.
“I know this deviates from your program requirements which specify general care, but you have demonstrated a high level of professionalism and competence with us thus far, and I hope will be up to the challenge.” Dr. Hiyashi led you over to door 3307, pushing it open for you to enter.
The inside of the space reminded you more of a luxury hotel room than a hospital. The room was large, with honey-colored hardwood floors and modern floor-to-ceiling windows illuminating the room in a soft natural light. A light grey leather couch sat against the center of the windows, surrounded by two matching leather recliners. Between them was a sleek coffee table, with a plethora of magazines and a small vase of flowers artfully arranged on top. On either side of the sitting area, a hospital bed was set up, along with a folding screen to offer privacy.
Taking the charts offered to you by Dr. Hiyashi, your breath stuttered as you read the name of the patient on the right. You took a closer look, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. He looked different, with his sunglasses nowhere to be seen and his resting face serene, but even then, it was easy to recognize the black lightning bolt contrasted against his golden hair. You were being assigned one of the top ten heroes: Chargebolt.
You felt honored, thrilled even, to be given such a large opportunity. Yet at the same time, uncertainty clawed its way into your chest, dragging down your thoughts. You were still in your rotationals. Why had you been chosen over a senior nurse like Gia, or someone who had been here longer? What if you overlooked something, or messed something up? This was a hero who had saved countless lives. If you put his life in jeopardy by making a mistake, could you technically be arrested for villainy?
“Hina has been assigned to care for the other hero here, Red Riot,” Dr. Hiyashi said, interrupting your spiraling thoughts. “You both will continue to care for your regular patients and perform your other duties, but we thought it best that we assign a nurse to each of these high-level patients. While the decision might have been made quickly, you can be assured that we did not choose the assignments lightly. We truly believe you are more than capable of monitoring these patients with diligence.”
You bent into a low bow. “Thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Hiyashi. I promise to extend the greatest care possible to Chargebolt while he is here.”
Dr. Hiyashi smiled widely at your consent. “I’ll leave you here then, to get acquainted with the charts and situation. Your badge should be programmed to have access to this wing of the hospital now, so you can return whenever you wish.”
You bowed to the doctor once again in thanks, fingers brushing your badge as he left. Laughing under your breath, you shook your head. They must have had a lot of confidence you would accept.
Rounding the bed, you took note of his vitals and other readings to ensure they were stable- they were - and then began to read over the notes in the chart provided to you. The quirk that hit them was still largely unknown, but between Dr. Hiyashi and the medics on sight, they were able to piece together some vital information. Most importantly, this quirk was toxic. A small puncture wound on both Chargebolt and Red Riot suggested how the toxin was able to enter their bodies, making them immobile and comatose in a matter of seconds. While the effects of such poison were unknown, the two heroes were at least stable, and they were now to be carefully be kept under surveillance.
You double-checked the monitors before carefully laying the back of your palm against Chargebolt’s forehead. It was warmer than usual, indicating a fever, but nothing that caused alarm. You were about to investigate the puncture mark on his neck when the door to the room was thrown open, causing you to jump back in alarm. There stood Hina, chest heaving as she leaned on the door for support.
“We need you in the visitor waiting room, ASAP,” she gasped.
Your eyes widened, and you quickly followed her out of the room.
While you had been called upon to use your quirk before, it was always as a last resort. Your mind raced as you tried to conjure up what could possibly cause such a huge commotion that Hina needed to sprint to find you. Sure, there were many civilian injuries, but thankfully, no casualties, and most worried families were at least willing to cooperate and not cause a scene.
The doors to the waiting room came within your sight, and you activated your quirk preemptively, mentally preparing yourself for whatever chaos laid behind them. However, as you entered the room, you froze, all preparation out of the window and your mind going blank. His back was turned away from you right now, as he was angrily making demands to some poor nurse in front of him, but at this point, you would have recognized those broad shoulders and ash blond hair anywhere. It was your bento box stranger. It was the annoying asshole. He turned upon hearing your arrival, and you realized with absolute horror that he was also Number 2 Pro-Hero Dynamight.
To his credit, he looked as surprised to see you as you were to see him. His eyebrows rose in confusion, and he tilted his head slightly to the side. “Bento box girl? What the hell?”
Your thoughts echoed his exactly, but you at least had the good sense to retain some form of professionalism. “Pro-hero Dynamight, when I was called here on emergency, I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you.”
A small scoff escaped his lips as he waved his hand in dismissal. “Cut the formalities. Call me Bakugou. Now, can you tell me how Eijiro and Denki are doing, or will I have to question every nurse on this damn floor for some answers?”
“That won’t be necessary,” you responded, stepping closer to him. You watched as his shoulders loosened, his stance slowly relaxing like an unwinding coil until he was leaning back on the heels of his feet, hands lax at his side.
“What are you doing to me?” he asked. His voice had lowered in volume, but his eyes were still burning with guarded curiosity.
You held your hands up in an appeasing gesture. “It’s just my quirk. It’s called Tranquil. I can emit a calming aura that affects anyone within a five-foot radius of me. Before I was called in here to use it, I was actually just tending to Pro-Heroes Red Riot and Chargebolt, who I assume you are here to see. They are comatose, but stable. They’re in the special care wing right now, but if you show me a valid form of ID, I can allow you to visit them if you can manage to contain yourself.”
Your tone became stern at the end of your small rant, yet he didn’t back down from your challenge. Instead, a small grin broke across his face, completely unrepentant about his earlier outburst as he fished out his hero license from his pocket. He brandished it to you proudly.
“Just in case you need a reminder of who you’re talking to.”
You sighed but didn’t argue, slipping back into your professional persona as you motioned him to follow you through the doors of the visitor area and down the winding hallways towards the special unit. The walk there was in silence, but not contention. From the glances you sneaked of him, he appeared to be lost in thought as he followed behind you like a sleepwalker. For all his gusto, he must have been extremely worried about his friends, and you almost felt sorry for him. Then you thought of his cocky face and demanding attitude, and you banished the idea from your mind immediately. You might not know a lot about him, but he definitely didn’t seem like someone who wanted your pity.
At last, you arrived at the door, holding it open for him to enter. He did so with his head held high, but his expression was troubled, lips pressed into a firm line. He walked over to Red Riot’s bed first, looking at the oxygen mask wrapped around his face and the monitor screens, flashing data and emitting a steady beeping to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He squinted as though he could understand it, and you wondered if he could. Most heroes knew basic first aid and medical care, and this guy seemed like he could be incredibly driven if he wanted to learn more. He moved over to Chargebolt, doing the same body scan before turning to you.
“And they’re okay?”
You nodded, and he let out a deep sigh of relief. He collapsed on the couch, throwing his head back onto the backrest and covering his eyes with the crook of his arm. The silence stretched on. Bakugou, planted firmly on the couch, and you, hovering around the entrance of the doorway unsure of what to do next.
“What about you?” you settled on asking.
The question had been plaguing your mind ever since you put two and two together. The reason why he didn’t show up in the train station this morning. The danger of the villain attack. The bodies of his friends comatose on either side of him. You’re not sure whether you meant the question in a physical way only or something more, but he chose to interpret it as the former.
“The medics on site checked me over. I didn’t even have a scratch.”
He motioned over to Red Riot’s side of the room, brows furrowed. “This idiot was the first one to get hit by that bastard’s quirk, most likely targeted because his quirk wasn’t active at the time. If it was, the villain wouldn’t have stood a chance at getting through it.”
“And this idiot-” he continued, motioning to Chargebolt, “saw what happened and shoved me out of the way before I could get scratched as well. The fool could have used his quirk to taze the guy or set up an electric force field around the area to segregate him off, but no. His first move was to save me. And look how that worked out for him.”
He sounded annoyed at him, like he was nothing more than a bother, but the fact that he was here in his hospital room after causing such a scene and refusing to leave proved otherwise.
“I’d say it worked out well, then.” Bakugou gave you an incredulous look, so you continued to explain. “If his goal was to save you, then he did exactly that, seeing as you’re sitting on that couch unscathed.”
You thought your logic was sound, but Bakugou groaned in frustration. “But he was wrong! His first goal should always be to apprehend the villain and minimize the collateral. I could have handled myself.”
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor. You approached him with caution, but he remained stubbornly still. “I’m sure he knew better than most that you could have handled yourself, but that’s what happens when you care about someone, you know?”
He still didn’t look at you, so you took a seat beside him on the couch. “And I happen to know a thing about caring. It’s quite literally my job, after all.”
At this, he let out a wry chuckle, glancing at you from the side. You smiled back, getting to take in the full intensity of his carmine eyes as you met his gaze. He was the first to concede, rolling his shoulders as he sighed.
“Are you using your quirk on me?”
You were pretty sure he was just joking, but an undertone of sincerity in his voice prompted you to answer seriously. “No, I stopped whenever you showed me your ID.”
He grunted in approval, and silence swept over you both once again. However, it wasn’t like last time, when the silence was charged with a certain tension of unspoken worry. This silence was different, born of a tentative camaraderie between two people who shared the same hopes and concerns.
The low buzz of your pager broke the peace, causing you to give him an apologetic grin. “Sorry, I think I’m needed in the main unit. I can come back to check over everything again once I’ve made my rounds.”
Bakugou nodded, waving his hand in a shooing motion. “Not like I’ll be going anywhere.”
With that dismissal, you quickly exited the room and made your way to your main wing of the hospital. After having a taste of serenity and quiet, the rushing nurses and frantic voices were a bit jarring, making you wish you were back in room 3307 with a certain snarky blond. You had been assigned a couple of new patients as a result of the attack, but considerably less than what you would have been given if you weren’t caring for Chargebolt.
By the time the dust had settled and you had completed your rounds, several hours had passed. Your feet were screaming at you to sit down, and you all but passed out the second you made it to the break room, the hard plastic chairs feeling like heaven. You had about twenty minutes to spare, and you were highly considering taking a quick power nap on the table when your stomach growled loudly, reminding you of yet another problem. Since you hadn’t planned to start your shift until the afternoon, you were originally going to get lunch beforehand. However, like everything else, things had not gone according to plan, and now you were left with the unappealing choices of a vending machine meal or a quick run to a convince store.
And that’s when you remembered it: the bento of oyakodon tantalizingly waiting in your locker. You practically started salivating right there at the thought. After the day you had, a bowl of nice comforting oyakodon with spicy sauce sounded like the perfect pick-me-up, and so much better than what the vending machines here could offer. You moved on instinct, opening your locker before you had even realized you were headed its direction. You reached in, pulling out the pastel orange bento in triumph.
You were about to head back to the break room when a small, nagging thought wriggled its way into your mind. A small thought in the shape of one good-smelling asshole who most certainly had a worse day than you. You sighed, hating yourself for being a good person with empathy, and instead turned toward the special wing of the ICU.
When you arrived, you knocked on the door, softly calling out a greeting. Silence answered you in return. A slight wave of disappointment passed through you at the thought that Bakugou had left, but you brushed it off, pushing open the door regardless. You needed to check on Chargebolt anyway. However, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks.
The world was incredibly unfair. Bakugou laid on the couch, legs outstretched and arms pillowing his head as he slept. He was the perfect muse illuminated by a golden halo of light, a figure that could have inspired countless artworks in the renaissance, a marble sculpture come to life, dozing in a hospital room in Tokyo. He looked younger like this, with no scowl marring his face and perfectly at peace.
You approached as quietly as you could, not wanting to disturb him and break the scene in front of you. Placing the bento box on the table, you hastily retreated, checking over Chargebolt’s vitals before leaving the room once again.
As you finished out the rest of your shift in the main area of the ICU, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander in the small handful of minutes you had to yourself. You wondered if Bakugou liked the bento, or if he even ate it. You wondered if he would continue your game of exchanging bentos back and forth, or if your oyakodon was the final offering. You wondered how often he would come back. Most of all, you wondered what would happen next.
At last, you reached the final round of check-ups for the day before heading home. When you finally reached Chargebolt’s room, the last on your list for both practical and entirely selfish purposes, you took a deep breath before opening the door in anticipation. The room was devoid of any explosive personalities, but you also noticed with a smile that there was no bento box in sight.
A/N: Chapter 3 is a big one, but it’s finally here! The plot finally begins to thicken. It ended up being a lot longer than I expected it to be, which in turn also put me a bit behind in my writing schedule. In addition, chapter 4 is turning out longer as well. With that being said, and also with Thanksgiving coming up, I’m making the tentative post date of chapter 4 to be the weekend of Thanksgiving instead of the exact Friday after. I will also be travelling during this time, so that makes things tough. Sorry about things in advance if I do post a day or two late, but thanks for the understanding!
As always, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated, but please do not repost here or on other platforms. However, fan arts, edits, or anything like that are beyond amazing and totally welcome! If you have a question about it, just ask me.
anything for you, birin!!! ✨💞 this took a little while and also it’s way longer than it should be 😔 i hope you enjoy!!!!
12. Roommate AU + 41. First Kiss 💖 Kirishima Eijirou x Reader
“I’m home!”
“Welcome back,” you call from the living room, settled snuggly against the corner of the couch. You turn your attention back to the show you have on, but it’s halved, as you have an ear out for Kirishima’s footsteps.
Kirishima comes in from the front area with a sigh, shedding his jacket and tossing it onto the armchair, dropping his keys and wallet onto the coffee table.
He collapses onto the couch and slouches sideways into your lap. You barely lift your arms in time to avoid a collision with his head.
“Kiri,” you scold, and he only pushes his face into you.
“M’tired,” he says, voice muffled. “What’d you do today?”
You roll your eyes to pretend to yourself that your heart rate hasn’t picked up, that there isn’t a flutter in your chest. He’s so sweet and soft when he’s tired. A little more needy than he usually is, which you love; he doesn’t need to be cheerful and perfect all the time, around you.
You tell him about your day, sounds from the TV intermingling with your voice.
As you talk, your hand finds its way to his head, and you bury your hand in his hair, thumb stroking. Your fingers catch on the hair tie that’s been holding up the half ponytail he’s been wearing all day. You carefully tug at it, releasing the tension there, untangling the strands with your fingers.
Kirishima sighs, a content sound, and opens his eyes, looking up into yours.
“The guys wanna come over tomorrow,” he tells you. “Is that okay?”
“That’s fine,” you say. “Want me to cook for you guys?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t have to!”
You pinch his nose, smiling when he flails a little before you let go. “Okay, I’ll cook.”
“Only if you use my card to buy the ingredients! Or—oh! Let’s go shopping together. That way, I can buy and carry everything,” Kirishima says brightly.
You laugh as he sits up, stands. He offers his hands to you, and you take them, letting him pull you to your feet.
“I thought you were tired?” you say.
“Not anymore!”
Kirishima tries his best not to be obvious about the fact that he’s watching you and Bakugou in the kitchen. You’re both talking in low tones, impossible to make out, especially with the sounds going from the TV.
He, Sero, and Kaminari are here in the living room, playing video games, and for some reason, you’re both over there.
You’ve mostly finished cooking already, you told him; you’re just waiting on a couple things in the oven. So why haven’t you come over yet?
He watches as Bakugou makes a fist and bonks you on the head with it. You make a face Kirishima likes to think of as your wet cat face—so cute—and shove at Bakugou, who barks out a laugh.
You cross your arms, looking away, over in Kirishima’s direction. Your eyes meet his, and he smiles at you, instinctively.
You smile back, but it’s hurried, distant, and you quickly turn away.
Kirishima frowns. What’re the two of you talking about? Suddenly, he really, really wants to know.
SUMMARY:As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems.
TAGS/WARNINGS:mermaid au, interspecies relationships, mating rituals/courting behavior, (sort of) case fic, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns/afab reader
LENGTH: 3.5k of est. 21k, 5th of 8 chapters
It was pollution. No doubt about it.
Under the lens of one of Kamui’s microscopes, the evidence was incontrovertible. The piece of white coral Shouto had brought you sported distinct traces of industrial processing chemicals that had almost certainly contributed to its bleaching, the concentration high enough that it had also probably choked the life out of the nearby environment.
It was high enough, in fact, that you were absolutely floored your team hadn’t come across even a hint of anything similar before. Based on the levels, you should have been finding at least smaller traces close to the area it came from, but nothing you’d found so far had even hinted at anything like this.
Which begged the question, just where in the hell had Shouto gotten it from?
When you legged it back down to the beach, however, both the merman and your sandwich were missing. The only evidence of his presence were the slices of mozzarella that had clearly been picked out of the sandwich, laid out cleanly on the wrapper you’d left behind.
You’d sighed and cleaned your trash up, then slogged back to your room for a shower and a few hours of sleep, stowing the coral away safely to show to your team in the morning.
When you awoke, however, you realized you would have no way of explaining to them where you’d obtained it, and no way to point them any closer to the source of the issue. You resolved to find Shouto as soon as possible to figure out what was going on, hopefully before the scheduled tour of Sunfish.
You rocketed through your morning tasks, and hurriedly volunteered to take over trap checking duty, disappearing out the door before Yu could so much as get out a reply.
You boated north to the reef where you’d first met Shouto, and jumped into the water before you’d even gotten your snorkeling gear on properly, certain the merman would somehow find you. You’d nearly finished checking the trap, kicking off the seafloor to rise back to the surface when a hand seized your elbow, guiding you back up.
Shouto’s handsome face was staring back at you when you yanked off your goggles, his distinctive hair slicked back with ocean water, the scar around his eye a deep pink in the sunlight. Sunlight glittered off the droplets on his skin, making him look even more ethereal than he usually did, and your breath momentarily seized in your chest.
“Hi Shouto,” you said, your face going hot when it came out weirdly breathy. Embarrassing.
Summary: A chance encounter in the Shibuya Train Station leaves you with a sore shoulder and a mysterious bento box. You’re willing to write the incident off and move on, otherwise preoccupied with navigating a new city and a new job, but a bombastic blond, meddling friend, and fate itself seem to have other plans.
Genre: Pro Hero AU, fluff, strangers to lovers, medical setting
Mapo Tofu - Consisting of tofu set in a spicy red sauce with meat, this originally Chinese dish emigrated to Japan in the 1950s where it evolved into sweeter and more mellow flavors popular among Japanese cuisine.
Pale, golden rays of sunlight filtered through the large, double-paned windows, warming the kitchen in a gentle glow. On the windowsill, six houseplants of different varieties sat, basking in the morning light. Sticking out of the soil, small jewel-toned picks proudly displayed their names: Yuki, Kita, Suga, Tohru, Ren, and Souta. In the living room, eight more plants were grouped around the couch, still asleep in the darkness until the afternoon rays helped them rise.
At the doorway, Ibara Shiozaki stood, wringing hands betraying her otherwise stoic expression. “You’ll need to rotate Souta 45 degrees every two days, otherwise he begins to lean too much towards the sun.” She motioned to the last of the plants on the windowsill, small buds covering the plump, green succulent. “And don’t forget that Tohru needs to be watered last, since you also need to mix in her special plant food, but you can’t give it to Kita, otherwise he’ll die.”
You nodded, attempting to shoo her out of the door for the umpteenth time this morning. “Don’t worry Shiozaki, I’ve got this. I promise that I can handle your babies for a week.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, looking skeptical. “When you first brought your own plants upon move-in, they were in desperate need of attention. For someone with a medical background, I was surprised you didn’t immediately realize that action needed to be taken in order to preserve their life.”
While the words themselves sounded hostile, you simply laughed the comment off, shaking your head. Having Shiozaki as a roommate did nothing to cure the culture shock that came with the big city. Blunt, serious, and downright confusing at times, she had definitely added to the stress at first. However, she did, in fact, save your plants, and there was no way you could afford an apartment as half as nice as this one if you had been living on your own. Therefore, you quickly adjusted to her quirkiness and overall dependability as a roommate.
“My specialty is people, not plants, but I’m an avid learner.” you replied. “That’s where you come in, my incredibly talented, plant-mom teacher.”
Shiozaki scoffed, but a rosy blush crept its way onto her cheeks. She never could take a compliment. “Well, I emailed the instructions to you, just in case. I also–”
“–Left them taped to the fridge,” you finished for her. “Yes, I saw those two weeks ago when you announced that you had this mission. It will be fine, just go. You’re going to be late!”
Shiozaki looked like she wanted to argue more, but closed her mouth when she saw the time, her lips forming a tense line. If there was one thing she possibly valued as much as her plants, it was her punctuality, and right now you had a very good point. If she delayed any further, she would most definitely be late. Giving you a confident nod as you wished for her safe travels, she spun on heel and closed the apartment door, footsteps echoing down the hallway.
You glanced at the time on the microwave, inwardly cursing yourself as you too rushed to get out of the door. It wasn’t until you were at the crosswalk to the station that you realized your hands were too empty. The bento box you had left to dry the night before was still sitting on the rack.
The underground was busy today, although it was considerably louder than yesterday. Normally, the commuting passengers, while many in number, were heard by the sound of their shoes against the worn tile rather than their voices. Early mornings with no coffee and the stress of public transportation rendered them voluntarily mute.
Today, however, everyone had something to say.
Vendors of food stands loudly offered you their freshest pastries, your stomach saying ‘yes’ but your brain and anxiety very much saying ‘no.’ Around you, people clustered in groups, talking about the headlines on the newspapers stacked around the station. The words ‘top heroes’ and ‘tomorrow’ were the only ones to cling to your memory, the others brushed off by your hasty pace. How could anyone think about ‘tomorrow’ when there was still a whole day of ‘today’?
Therefore, it was hardly your fault that you didn’t hear the man at first, brain immediately dismissing his voice as another in the sea of mindless chatter.
“Oi, you there.” A small commotion erupted behind you, the sound of angry huffs increasing in volume as more people were pushed aside. You didn’t turn, anxiously peering down the tracks of the train, as though doing so would make it come faster. “Hey, Bento Box Girl! I’m talking to you.”
You were once again painfully reminded that your own bento box was firmly planted on your kitchen counter. Nonetheless, you did turn, wondering what poor person was being accosted like this so early in the morning. The scent of warm caramel and a familiar cologne crested over you like a wave, so strong you almost stumbled as though physically pushed.
Ah, that poor person was you.
“Me?” You stared at him, too shocked to be polite, not that it mattered. He definitely didn’t seem like the type for pleasantries considering that he had blatantly ignored any pretense of manners with both encounters.
The man in question rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. The white t-shirt he wore stretched tight across his chest at the motion, confirming that the hardness you had felt from your trip the other day was, in fact, all muscle. You were sure the arms which had caught you were similarly structured, but they were currently covered by an oversized letterman, a large, burgundy ‘R’ emblazoned on the front left pocket. Narrowing in on his piercing eyes, more vibrant than the jacket, and sandy hair, you thought that the man looked vaguely familiar, too.
A sudden gust of wind signaled the train’s arrival, breaking your thoughts and stealing your attention away. The stranger didn’t like this, darting in front of you to prevent you from moving toward the opening doors and forcing you to face him again.
“What’s your secret?” His eyes bore into yours with unfettered determination, and a chill ran its way down your spine. You tried to side-step him, but he was obnoxiously quick for someone of his build.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, meeting his gaze with all of the strength you could muster. You weren’t a villain, but he was certainly making you feel like one.
He scoffed, as though insulted that you could be this clueless. “The curry. What’s the secret to your curry?”
A second passed. Then two.
‘Was this guy serious?’
“Just-” you began, realizing that he wouldn’t leave you in peace until you gave him an answer, “add something sweet, like honey. Yours was way too spicy. You need the balance of both, otherwise one flavor will overpower everything and it won’t taste as good.”
His brows furrowed, a slight nod being the only confirmation that he heard you. He turned to rummage in his own bag, and you considered the conversation over, trying to step past him onto the train.
His arm shot out, and you were once again blocked. In his hand, he held a small box wrapped in a pale orange cloth. A bento box. Your bento box. You looked back up at the man, who was looking at you with an expectant stare.
“I don’t have yours,” you said, shrugging sheepishly. “This morning was super busy and I didn’t even have time to pack my lunch. In fact, I don’t even think I have any leftovers since Shiozaki–”
He cut off your rambling with a wave of his hand. You thought he would be upset at your admission, seeing as his default reaction seemed to be pissed off, but instead, he simply leaned back, hands finding his pockets.
“You better bring me something good tomorrow, then,” he said, a devastating grin slicing across his face.
It was then that you were reminded how handsome this asshole was. That sense of familiarity wormed its way to the front of your brain again, and you wondered if you knew him from the cover of a magazine or on a billboard advertising the latest fashion. He certainly seemed like the type.
The station announcer called for last minute passengers, and you scurried through the open doors, abruptly cutting off any further conversation. However, it seemed as though he had accomplished what he came for. Instead of boarding the train, you watched as his red letterman turned away from the platform and made its way upstairs, melting into the crowd.
‘Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be such a bad thing to think about after all.’
* * *
“That man is loaded.” Hina leaned back in the hard plastic chair of the break room, hands coming together to form a peak as she began her analysis. “The jacket you’re describing is from the Fatgum Agency x Gucci merch collab for charity. The only pieces of sidekick merch were the letterman jackets, and they sold out in less than five minutes on pre-order.”
You had been giving Hina a dramatic reenactment of your morning events, and when you had mentioned the flashy jacket that the man wore, she had almost fainted. A few months ago, she had come into work with bags under her eyes and looking utterly defeated. When you had asked her what was wrong, fearing the worst, she had tearfully told you about how hard she had tried to get the Tamaki letterman, and how quickly they had sold out. You consoled her with a lunch out and Suneater plushie, but you knew the defeat stung, especially since she owned every other piece of Suneater merch.
“Maybe he’s in the yakuza,” Hina continued. “Besides having money, he must have had connections to score that jacket as well.”
You set your chopsticks down, thoughtfully chewing your tofu. “I doubt that a member of the yakuza would be buying hero merch, much less chasing after me for a curry recipe. Whoever he is though, the man can cook.”
After yesterday’s curry fiasco, you had been hesitant to try whatever he had prepared for you today. However, your curiosity won out, and you had unwrapped the bento to reveal a beautiful meal of mapo tofu. Like his last dish, this one was tongue-numbingly spicy. However, instead of being overwhelming, the different flavors of spice melded together perfectly to create a multi-dimensional flavor that left you craving more.
“So, you don’t think he’s all that bad now?” Hina questioned, leaning forward with her elbows on the table.
“No, he’s definitely still an asshole.” You shook your head as you corrected her. “It’s just annoying that he’s also handsome, cooks well, smells good, and is apparently loaded.”
Hina snickered into her hand. “I don’t know, sounds like he’s still a catch. Maybe you just need to get earplugs so you can’t hear him when he opens his mouth.”
You could easily imagine the stranger’s rage if he realized you weren’t listening to him, giggling at the thought of his face turning red and veins popping out of his neck until steam began to actually pour from his ears. “I would pay money to see his face if he ever found out, but it would probably be the last thing I ever saw.”
Feeling a looming presence over your shoulder, you stopped the conversation short, turning around in your chair to come face to face with a very unhappy looking Gia. Her hands were on her hips, and she made a show of tapping her foot, as though she had been waiting.
“Ah, there you are,” she said to Hina, completely ignoring your existence. “I should have known that you would have been in the break room.”
You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes but couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of your voice as you responded. “Well, it is our lunch break for five more minutes.”
As expected, she didn’t offer you any form of acknowledgment. Instead, she rounded the table to stand in front of Hina, brushing away the loose strands of hair that framed her face and were one hundred percent breaking the dress code. “Why did you go ahead and draw up Mr. Mori’s charts? I thought I told you to wait for me.”
Hina was handling the situation better than you were, giving Gia a placating smile. “You were busy with other matters at the time, so I went ahead and helped him since he is under my care.”
“But what if you missed something?” Gia scolded.
“I didn’t,” Hina replied. “I had Dr. Hayashi confirm it.”
You thought Gia might cool down after this statement, but if anything, it seemed to make her even more agitated. She sighed loudly, her voice lowering in tone but increasing in vitriol. “But you could have!”
She shook her shoulders, straightening herself back into a somewhat relaxed position. “Next time, please wait for me. As a senior nurse, it is my duty to make sure that our patients receive the most accurate and relevant care.”
Hina nodded in response, obviously wanting the conversation to be over. Thankfully, her wish was granted. Gia turned on heel and walked out of the break room without another word, head held high as though she had saved the day. When the door closed, you scoffed loudly, rubbing your forehead.
“She could have missed something too!” you exclaimed. “Even though her Diagnosis quirk is ‘made’ for the medical field, it’s only accurate 95% of the time. We’ve studied for years to get here. Surely that means we can fill out a chart and give a basic diagnosis based on the readings without her breathing down our necks.”
Hina agreed, groaning as she sunk down into her chair. “I know, but what can we do? She’s in charge of us for now. I’m just glad we’re still in our rotations so we won’t be stuck with her forever.”
You grumbled out an agreement, still unhappy about the entire situation. Someone definitely needed to take her down a peg or two, but you felt as though you had no right to do so. After all, she was your boss, and despite her general arrogance, her quirk really was perfect for this. All she had to do was touch someone, and she was able to give them a complete diagnosis of the patient with at least 95% accuracy if not more. Your quirk, while still being useful, was nowhere near the level that hers was when it came to helping others and saving lives.
A timer on your phone signaled the end of your break, and you carefully packed up the bento before wrapping it in its pale orange cloth. There wasn’t much left of the mapo tofu, and you made a mental note to cook something special for the stranger in gratitude, despite his attitude. Following Hina out of the door and back into the hospital hallway, you realized that for once, you were excited for the next day to come.
A/N: Yay! Second chapter is up! Thank you guys so much for the amazing support and kind words. I am so happy you have been enjoying it so far! My schedule might become a bit disrupted during/after Thanksgiving, but I will update you all if things change. Other than that, looking forward to next week’s post! It’s a long one.
As always, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated, but please do not repost here or on other platforms. However, fan arts, edits, or anything like that are beyond amazing and totally welcome! If you have a question about it, just ask me.
If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments! Also, if the tag list DIDN’T work, please let me know as well. I’ve never done one before, so I’m not sure I did it right.
In the media, Gaza is an abstraction, a space designed for the violent death of an abstract people inhabiting it. This death comes at the hands of a natural, impersonal force—not one of the most powerful armies in the world propped up by the most powerful state in the world, with a government, and a people electing this government. It is a convenient framing, one that shifts guilt away from Israel. The destruction comes from above, and those who die are meant to die. All is as it should be. To that, we offer a correction: Gaza is not an abstraction. It is a shore and beaches and streets and markets and cities with names of flowers and fruits, not an abstraction but places and lives and people that are being bombed into oblivion.
okay so a ceasefire will happen soon, inshallah, but i just know the second it does, most of y'all will pack it up and go home. the world has proven time and time again that the second the violence “stops”, then everyone forgets about us and then we just go back to suffering under the israeli occupation. you guys need to promise us, promise every single palestinian child in the world right now, that you will not stop fighting. that you will continue boycotting, you will continue protesting, you will continue disrupting the world until palestine is free. and then we’ll do it again. and again and again and again and again. for sudan, for the congo, for everyone who is suffering right now.
you guys cant keep leaving us and forgetting about us once you’ve done “your part”. it always happens, and we always go back to suffering. you need to stand with us until palestine is completely free. until we have our land back, until we can rebuild our homes, until we can drink clean water and breathe clean air, until our children grow up never having to face a horror like the nakba ever again. you need to stay fighting until we are all free forever.
hello dear!! so this is a little bit of a stretch… but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone 🥺
12. Roommate AU + 27. Sick/Injured Fic 💖 Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
“You home, dumbass?” Bakugou’s voice drifts into the kitchen from the entryway, followed by the sound of his keys jingling as he hangs them up on the hook in the hallway.
You freeze, cup of water half-raised to your mouth.
He’s not supposed to be home this early. When he goes to the gym, he stays for at least an hour.
“Yeah,” you croak out, gripping the counter with your other hand. You set the glass down.
Maybe he’ll head straight to his room. Maybe he won’t come in here. It’d look even more suspicious if you tried to make a break for it. Shit, you should’ve gone to your room while you had the chance.
Bakugou strides into the kitchen, setting his water bottle near the sink. You can only stand there, like a deer in headlights.
He’s in shorts and a tight, black compression shirt, the material hugging his skin. His biceps look amazing, and your eyes snag on his pecs. He has that annoying hero dorito build that you always tease him about, to pretend it doesn’t do things to you, broad shoulders tapering into a tiny waist.
Bakugou raises an eyebrow at you before turning to open the fridge.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you say. Your eyes widen and your hands come up, belatedly, to slap over your mouth.
He stops mid-motion, and you stare in horror as he turns to look at you, those crimson eyes wide in a rare expression of surprise.
“Fuck,” you say again. Before he can say anything, you sprint to your room.
Just as you close the door and lock it, you hear Bakugou’s footsteps come to a stop outside it.
There’s a simmering moment of silence before he says, “What the hell was that?”
You groan and make painful noises into your hands.
“I’m sorry! I was hit by a quirk today!”
“What the fuck? Go to the hospital!” he snarls.
“I did,” you say through the door. “They told me to go home, that it’d wear off in a day or two.”
“…What’s the quirk?” Bakugou growls.
You bite your lip, feeling heat rush to your face.
SUMMARY:Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto’s suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you…
TAGS/WARNINGS:pro hero au, fem + afab reader, omegaverse, alpha shouto, beta reader, misunderstandings, courting behavior, slightly case fic-y, undertones of sexual violence (not between main pairing), aged-up characters, eventual smut, 18+ minors please dni!
NOTES:Why yes this is a full-length fic inspired by my Shouto is too pretty to be an alpha except whoops he is drabble from a while back. It sort of grew its own legs and an unexpected case fic angle, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!!
