I Can’t Keep Up With All The Socials Help, Heres Some Geto Doodles Hehe ! I Will Try To Keep Up With

Take Me Back

hinata shouyou x reader words; 1345 synopsis; breaking up and making up with the one that he couldn't let get away from him.

“Take me back to that summer in Brazil playing beach volleyball.” 4 missed calls.

In a language he doesn't call his own but feels like home he leaves voicemails for her. He clears his throat, and says his piece. He knows he should be loving his girlfriend here in Japan, but he's too addicted to the taste of brigadeiros and pavé in her mouth. Brazil warmed his senses up to a new style of play and a new way to love.

He looks at the clock on his wall, it’s a perfect 12 hour time difference. He’s going to bed, she just had lunch. She never calls him back though. She only texts through Whatsapp when she has the time to properly respond, around midnight her time and lunchtime for him.

“I know it's been a while and I haven’t reached out.” 12 missed calls.

She showed him around Rio when no one else could. She was the one who ended up having to endure him when he underwent his first really bad sunburn. He remembers the way she laughed at him for forgetting sunscreen, “tão burro” she kept repeating while rubbing aloe vera on his shoulders. He remembers whining so much that she poked him in the forehead before putting her hands on her hips and chastising him in her Portuguese that was just way too fast for him to catch any of the words.

He had to meekly apologize with a pout, and she forgave him with a kiss.

Maybe that’s why he still sometimes forgot to put on sunscreen when he was playing volleyball.

“Thought I’d regret you like a teenage tattoo but I miss you, baby what can I do?” 14 missed calls.

In Brazil Hinata only got good at swimming because she loved to swim. And because she wore the best swimsuits, but that’s not his only sole reason for getting into swimming. She could swim circles around him, but he still had fun treading the water.

Sometimes, she liked to duck down into the water and tug on his legs. The first time she did that, Hinata thought he would die and that the tug was a result of a shark. The way she just curled into herself and giggled when she popped out of the water and observed his reaction was unparalleled by any other prank he’d gone through. Her joy at his pain was unusual but also intriguing.

Those little games, sometimes back and forth, but mostly her playing them on him was something he missed when he got back to Japan. When he got back, he went into his apartment expecting her to be dancing samba in the living room to afrobeat music. When she wasn’t there, a pang of melancholy strung at his heart. His home here was less alive.

“Why do I shiver thinking about you?” 17 missed calls.

No matter how much his friends and family compared him to the sun, he still thought that he paled in comparison to her. Bright, loud, and glad to be doing her own thing.

There’s always the possibility that he developed some sort of codependency on her. Despite her free-spirit and slightly loner dependencies, Hinata stuck to her like glue. When she would try and slink off into the night to go clubbing, he would bring her in and make traditional Japanese dishes for her to try. Hinata introduced Oikawa to her, which may have been a problem, but she didn’t seem to enjoy Oikawa’s overwhelming embrace of machismo culture. She liked Hinata’s gentle and silent strength over a boastful, loud power.

A guiding hand on her waist rather than pulling her along by the hand. A kiss to the shoulder instead of tearing her away from her conversations for a breathless kiss. Early morning texts to say good morning instead of late night, ‘you up?’ messages. Hinata was everything she wanted, or so Hinata thought.

Apparently, going on three dates in a row wasn’t considered an exclusive relationship to her. So when Hinata saw her with a different guy on the beach, using his towel that she always lent him, tucking her hair behind her ear the way he was supposed to, Hinata didn’t know how else to react.

Throwing a volleyball at the back of the guy’s head was probably not the right move to make, but it was the move he made. The other man just rubbed the back of his head, saying that ‘estrangeiros’ were always a little too obsessed with fine Brazilian women. She just smacked Hinata upside the head, but when he looked at her with sad eyes and with his bottom lip just a little jutted out, she ran a hand through his hair and brought him into an open mouth kiss.

He did have to apologize to her other date, and he ended the conversation by saying that she was still off limits.

“You're still the one I’m thinking about.” 20 missed calls.

Hinata was tired now. It was one in the morning and he was leaving her messages while he laid in bed waiting for sleep to finally take him. Was he desperate? Likely and affirmatively yes.

She told Hinata that long-distance wouldn’t work out, and that he should enjoy finding other people to date back at his home country. He wanted to argue with her, but she said it was final.

She was just there for a while, embracing him in his time in Brazil, and then since he was leaving, she would become merely a part of his memories. Her ease of farewells ripped his heart out. He wished she would’ve fought for them more, fought for him more. But you can’t ask people to stay who don’t want to stay of their own will. So he left, and she said good luck.

When he went back to Japan, he was worried about her. So he did ask Oikawa to check in on her and make sure she was doing okay. Then when Oikawa would send occasional pictures of them at the beach, with their tongues sticking out and hair wet from the ocean water, Hinata wanted nothing more than to be back in Brazil enjoying life. Oikawa would send other photos too, with her permission, ones where Oikawa caught her surfing a wave with practiced skill and ease of enjoyment for the activity, or when she was just laying on the sand stretching in the warmth of the sky.

They were friendly, sending messages frequently during the weeks of his initial return. Then as the months went on, there was less connecting the two, she didn’t respond to messages that quickly. She didn’t update him on life back in Brazil, and he stopped giving her play-by plays of all the games he participated in and who he had met up with.

He got a Japanese girlfriend, and she was nice. But she wasn’t the girl he wanted to go home to everynight.

“Maybe I still want something about you?” 26 missed calls.

There was a saying, from some American poet, someone he learned about but entirely forgot. The saying talked about the influence of yearning. It is the worst poison, best medicine, and key to so many doors.

He was out and about, looking for some lunch now. His sleep was restless. Maybe a fruit sando would be the best solution to the hunger pangs in his stomach. Exchanging cash for the food, he sits outside on the patio, unwrapping the foil and taking a bite.

She finally responded when the time neared midnight in her timezone, texting him. She asked if he knew what he was doing. She asked if he was inebriated last night. She asked if he was still dating his girlfriend. She said that if he was still dating her then he wasn’t being nice. She said she would never date someone who cheats. Hinata screenshots his text exchange with his newly ex-girlfriend.

She sends an eye roll emoji.

He smiles.

Midnight in Brazil. 0 missed calls. One incoming call.

happy birthday bakugou 💥

the other nerdjo i had in my pocket

haikyuu stans whr ya at cuz im missing haikyuu shenanigans

stay tune for hinata tho hehe

Wallpaper available here | Instagram | Twitter | Tiktok

i really love sendai frogs tsukki <3

HII!!!

i loveloveLOVE ur smau’s, could u do one for katsuki bakugo? enemies to lovers ?? the storyline and stuff can be anything u want.

pls feel free to add any details u want 😭😭

and no pressure !!!

technical foul | k. bakugo

you're vice captain to his captain on the soccer team. working together was never the problem. staying out of each other's way was.

Come to Bed-

Hubby!Izuku x Wifey!Reader

Warning: Nothing but fluff n small kisses

Author Notes: Reader uses glasses.

H/C- Hair Color

H/T- Hair Type

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rubbing your tired eyes behind your glasses, the long hours of blue light shinning off the laptop was starting to get to you. The words on the screen had slowly started to become more fuzzy and wonky, though the stubborness that pushed through the night still had an ounce of fuel left to finish this last email. But, refilling your empty mug once more couldn'r hurt. Besides, it'll be good to take a small break to stretch your legs.

The teapot waited where you left it the last few times you needed to refill. Just need to reheat the water....

"...Baby...." Strong protective arms gently encircled your frame as a gravel warm voice murmured, his temple pressing against yours tenderly. "Why are you still up?"

Izuku Midorya- your everything. Your rock, your comfort, your muse. With that sunny toothy smile on a dark storm of a day would instantly bring back the sun in your life. However, right now he brought that good intentional yet annoying cloud of worry. You knew this was your exhaustion getting the best of you, though this work was important. Almost too important.

"I still have a few job applications to fill, Zuzu. I'll be done before midnight." You tried to compromise despite your stubbornness, because the moment your guard falls under his touch... the way his large callous yet skilled hands moved along your shoulders, rubbing knots away at the shoulder blades, and gliding along your arms so soothingly....

You jolted back up to snap under his trance. That was too close. He almost had his way.

And he knew that. "Baby... it's already 2 in the morning...." He murmured before pressing a chaste kiss against your lobe. "You already worked your rear off, you know that's something to be proud of. I know I am, bunny."

Izuku Midorya- your number one cheer squad and your voice of reason. He knew it's been hard since you lost your job and he's been there through the ups and downs of this roller coaster. When he comes from patrol or has a day off, he always made sure to bring your favorite dessert along with your favorite drink, and arms ready for snuggles on the couch.

And these arms were trying to ease away the stress that has been fueling you for hours. Your gaze fell over to the glow of the clock at the stove and true to his word it was a little past 2. Has it really been that long? Between the searching, filling out forms, and trips to refill your mug, time seemed to slip on by without a sign. Did you even hear or acknowledge Izuku when he came home?

Izuku recognized the internal battle that swirled in your exhausted mind, the way your body swayed before he held you closer to his chest. Turning off the stove and moving the teapot off the burner, only a small whine struggled to sound from the back of your throat, yet any strength you had before it was snuffed completely out of you. You lost... or maybe this was a win you didn't want to admit.

You did feel a small tingle where your lover pressed another gentle kiss against your cheek before you felt his strong arms curl around in order to pick up. One more chaste kiss pressed against your forehead. How can you possibly fight against the one and only Deku?

Guiding through the dark towards your room, Izuku gently laid you against the awaiting mattress and carefully moved your glasses to the nightstand before slipping under the covers with you. His arms returned back around your torso and a few more small kisses planted along your temple and the crown of your (h/c) (h/t) head.

"You left me waiting, I was starting to get a bit jealous of your laptop." His low hushed voice whispered and you could hear that grin on his face, and gave an airy laugh. Snuggling in close, you breathed in his familiar scent as he mindlessly stroked your back with the back of his fingertips.

"Sorry...." You failed to muffle a yawn.

"Don't be." Izuku whispered. "I know things will work out, just gotta be patient now and see in time. Now, it's time you get a well deserved rest, ok? You deserve it."

katsuki i need u so bad brah bae bae mmmm

the pageant (snippets!) — bakugo k.

bakugo k. x calm fem!reader│word count: 2.9k

synopsis: For their last school festival, Class B challenges Class A to join them in the pageant. With yn as their chosen representative, Bakugo was more than ready to make sure she wins.

cw/tags: fluff, established relationship

“Me?” yn asked, blinking slowly.

What was meant to be a relaxed evening of festival planning between Class A and Class B quickly turned competitive. 

Kendo had started telling stories about pageant preparations when Monoma, ever the instigator, had cut in with that infuriating smirk. “Funny how Class A’s never even tried the pageant. What’s the matter? No one pretty enough?”

And just like that, the gauntlet was thrown.

Mina, never one to back down from a challenge, had been the first to rise to the bait. Now she pointed excitedly at yn, who sat next to Bakugo, nursing a cup of tea, blissfully detached from the brewing storm.

“You’d be perfect,” Mina gushed. “You’re gorgeous, super chill, and you’ve got that ‘mysterious but approachable’ energy that pageant judges would totally eat up.”

“Are you all serious?” Bakugo spoke up. He had been quiet this whole time, clearly uninterested in whatever dumb rivalry Monoma was trying to stir up. “You’re really going to let this extra provoke—”

“Sure,” yn said simply, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “Could be fun.”

Bakugo turned to her. “What?”

She shrugged. “Why not? It’s our last year.”

Monoma’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really?” He let out a theatrical laugh. “Well, if that’s your choice, I suppose there’s no harm.”

Bakugo stiffened.

“What’d you say?” he asked, his tone dangerously low.

But Monoma didn’t back down. “Just being realistic. You can’t expect someone like her to keep up with someone like Kendo.”

"MONOMA, YOU IDIOT—!" Kendo launched herself at her classmate, delivering a swift karate chop to his shoulder

But the damage was done. 

Something in Bakugo’s expression changed, a familiar fire igniting in his crimson eyes. He stood up slowly, cracking his knuckles.

“You’re on,” he said, voice firm. “We’re entering, babe. You’re winning that damn crown.”

Yn merely picked her tea back up, hiding a smile behind the rim of her cup. “Guess we’re doing this then.”

The next morning, Bakugo personally took charge, dragging everyone to the common room and barking orders.

“Alright, extras. Listen up! This ain’t a damn pageant. This is war, and we are not losing to those Class B losers!”

“Ooooh, Bakugo’s invested,” Mina beamed.

Bakugo ignored her comment and started pointing at everyone. “Racoon Eyes, Invisibitch—you’re on make-up! Shitty Hair, Flat Face—props! Ponytail, you’re with me on wardrobe! Dunce Face—you stay far away from anything important!”

“Rude!” Kaminari yelped, clearly offended.

Yn bumped her shoulder lightly against Bakugo’s. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Bakugo shoved her back with equal lightness. “Shut up. And get your ass moving too!”

Bakugo slammed three different fabric swatches onto the common room table, making the coffee cups rattle. “Charmeuse is the only option. Anything else is garbage.”

Momo frowned, holding up a shimmering sequin. “But this would catch the light beautifully—”

“IT LOOKS LIKE A DAMN DISCO BALL. NEXT.”

Yn yawned, resting her head on her arms. “I liked the disco ball idea.”

Bakugo flicked her forehead. “You’re not helping. And go to bed.”

Jiro strummed the final chord on her guitar, nodding as yn sang the chorus flawlessly. “Damn, you’ve got pipes.”

Yn huffed a laugh, reaching for her water bottle. “Only because you’re playing along. I’ve got nothing compared to you.”

Jiro set her guitar aside, uncrossing her legs. “Seriously, why don’t you sing for the live performances?”

A shrug. “I honestly didn’t know I could. Katsuki’s the one who mentioned it.”

Jiro’s eyes widened. “Wait. Bakugo pointed it out?” Then a slow grin spread across her face. “How’d that even come up?”

Yn blinked. “I, uh, hum sometimes. When we’re… napping.”

Jiro’s smirk turned lethal. “Oh my god. You lullaby him.”

“And… I regret telling you,” yn said with a sigh.

Jiro cackled, kicking her legs like an excited kid. “That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard.” She flipped over and grabbed her phone. “Mina’s gonna lose her mind!”

Yn lunged at her. “Hey, Jiro! No!”

Bakugo watched as yn took one more wobbly step in the strappy heels Momo had made before immediately grabbing him for support.

“Yeah… I don’t think I can do this,” she declared, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

“But they’re perfect!” Mina said. “Look at your legs!”

“Look at my ankles,” yn shot back, gripping Bakugo’s shoulders for dear life. “They’re about to snap.”

Bakugo slowly knelt down, his fingers gently undoing the straps. “Told you. Ditch the death traps.”

“But she looks so pretty in—” Uraraka protested.

“She’s wearing shorter heels. Just make ‘em pointed so she’d look taller,” he announced, tossing the heels aside.

“Hey!” Momo yelped as she caught them.

Monoma, disguised in a terrible wig, peeked into the stage where yn was practicing.

Kaminari spotted him instantly. “Uh, guys? We’ve got a spy.”

Bakugo didn’t even look up. “Flat Face.”

Sero grinned, happily taping Monoma up, while Shoji picked him up, ready to dump him in Class B’s dorm.

Yn waved as they passed her. “Tell Kendo I said good luck!”

Yn pushed open the common room door, blinking at the unexpected sight of Bakugo hunched over the sofa, papers in hand.

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked, sitting in the space beside him.

Bakugo shifted slightly to make room without looking up. “Still rehearsing for the live show.”

“And… you’re not playing the drums?” yn asked, leaning back onto the couch.

“Tch. Already nailed my part,” he muttered, finally tossing the papers onto the coffee table and slumping back. “They’re just screwing around now.”

Yn hummed, letting the silence settle between them. The easy kind that only existed when it was just the two of them.

She inched closer, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. 

Bakugo didn’t hesitate. He leaned into the contact, his cheek brushing against her hair.

“Missed you,” he grumbled.

Yn laughed. “Katsuki, we share classes, a dorm, and now this pageant thing. I see you more than my own reflection.”

“With the extras,” he emphasized, nose wrinkling.

“Aww,” she cooed, playfully poking his side. “You wanted me all to yourself.”

Bakugo huffed, a flush creeping up his neck. “Shut up.”

Grinning, yn removed her slippers and curled up on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she looped an arm around his. “Well…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, heart thudding in her chest. “You’ve got me now.”

Bakugo turned, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips. “Yeah?”

Yn nodded, her smile soft. “I missed you too.”

Bakugo’s expression softened. His hand rose to cup her cheek, rough fingers gentle against her skin. When she leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering close for a second, Bakugo looked at her like she was the only thing in his world.

He tilted her chin up, slowly closing the space between them. Their eyes slipped shut, breaths mingling as their lips finally—

“Hey, Bakugo! We’re back!” Kirishima’s voice rang out, the door slamming open.

Bakugo groaned, jerking away. He slumped back against the couch, scowling at the ceiling in silent, dramatic defeat.

The notification buzzed against yn's palm as she lay curled in bed, the glow of her phone painting soft light across her face. She didn't need to look at the sender to know who it was.

Stop scrolling through your damn phone and sleep.

A quiet laugh escaped her as she typed back, How do you know I'm scrolling?

The reply came instantly. Because you replied immediately.

Yn smiled, adjusting against her pillows. Maybe I'm meditating.

Bullshit. You're looking at memes.

She glanced at the image still open on her screen—a cat wearing a tiny, lopsided crown—and sent it without hesitation. Okay, but this one's good.

Her phone lit up with his response, the letters practically vibrating with indignation even through text. THAT'S LITERALLY JUST A CAT.

A royal cat, she corrected.

Go. To. Bed.

Can't. Too busy manifesting my victory.

The next message contained a single image: an alarm clock set for 5 AM with the caption ‘WAKE YN UP.’

Meanie, she sent, already dreading the early hour.

You'll thank me when you're not yawning on stage tomorrow.

Yn sighed, knowing he was right but unwilling to admit it. Fine. But only because you're cute when you're bossy.

The bubbles appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared. Finally—

You'll kill it tomorrow. If anyone says anything bad about you, I’ll blow ‘em up.

Her breath caught, thumb hovering over the screen. She smiled and sent her response.

I know I will. But thanks, Katsuki. Love you.

GO TO SLEEP.

Yn chuckled, about to turn her phone face down on the nightstand when Bakugo sent another message.

Love you too.

Yn stepped onto the stage, quiet and composed, mic in hand. Her presence alone was enough to hush the crowd. She paused at the center, took a breath, and closed her eyes.

From the back of the crowd, Bakugo stood with his arms crossed, gaze fixed on her. Her face glowed on the giant screen behind her, casting her features in a soft, angelic glow. 

Then the music began.

She began to sway to the melody, and when the moment came, she opened her eyes. Her voice followed, gentle and warm, filling the space like sunlight. 

The crowd didn’t dare move. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like polite silence. But Bakugo knew better. They were captivated. Hooked.

He smirked, pride swelling in his chest. Atta girl.

The song swelled with sentiment, a delicate ballad that mirrored her soft delivery. But then, without warning, it began to rain.

Gasps echoed. A few umbrellas popped open in the audience. Bakugo’s entire body went tense, instinctively stepping forward, already half-ready to shield her.

But yn didn’t flinch.

Instead, she stepped into it, letting the droplets catch in her hair, cling to her skin, trailing down her cheek like tears.

She turned slightly, just enough to angle her body toward the light, the water shimmering like it was part of the act. Her voice never wavered, staying smooth and steady.

Bakugo blinked. Then, he saw it.

That small tilt of her head. That calculated pause in her breath. The barely-there smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

She was guiding the moment, twisting the sudden downpour to make her performance more dramatic. She pulled their hearts with gentle precision, painting herself as this fragile, ethereal heroine.

And they were eating it up.

Bakugo scoffed, grinning to himself.

He knew better though.

Underneath that calm exterior, yn was competitive as hell.

She just hid it better than most.

Like how she always walked just a little faster whenever Sato brought out fresh cookies, slipping through their rowdy classmates like it was nothing, but always managing to snag the first one.

Or how she’d lean back and smile during game nights, cool as ever, until someone beats her in Mario Kart. Then suddenly, she’d be sitting forward, knees tucked up, focus lazer-sharp.

He’d seen it in training too. She’d nod absently when given instructions, like she was barely paying attention. But the second someone started getting ahead of her, her punches got sharper, her footwork quicker.

And she never backed down.

Not even when Bakugo dared her to eat the spicy noodles he made just to mess with her. She’d just stare at him, eyes watering, and eat the whole damn bowl out of spite.

She just hated to lose.

And that was one of the first things he ever loved about her.

The crowd probably saw an angel.

But all he saw was her.

Then, mid-verse, she looked up.

Right at him.

The connection hit fast. Strong. Like she'd reached straight through the crowd and found him exactly where he stood.

The mic hovered close to her lips.

The next line was supposed to be a tender, heartfelt I love you. A perfect romantic finish, made to be sung.

But she didn’t sing it.

Instead, she spoke. Changing the words, uttering it so softly. Like a secret passed only to him.

“Thank you.”

The word whispered through the speakers, yet somehow it was louder than everything else.

The crowd melted.

But Bakugo didn’t move. He couldn’t.

His heart was pounding, loud and erratic in his ears, drowning out the cheers.

He never believed in soulmates or any of that mushy crap. That wasn’t them.

He and yn weren’t some fairytale couple. They were two stubborn, messy people who’d somehow figured out how to make it work. No sparks or fate—just time, effort, and a whole lot of understanding.

Their relationship wasn’t built on sweet words or perfect moments. It was built on them showing up. On backing each other up. On knowing when to push and when to just be there.

And right now, standing there soaked in rain, watching her express her gratitude so beautifully—Bakugo felt it. All of it.

Up there wasn’t just his girlfriend doing some cutesy stage performance.

That was his person. His partner.

The one person who called him out, kept him in check, pushed him to be better—but never once asked him to be someone he wasn’t.

And he didn’t know what the future looked like after graduation, or what kind of shit they’d face out in the world.

But he knew one thing for sure:

He wasn’t letting her go.

Yn barely had time to adjust her crooked crown before the Bakusquad descended like vultures, hungry for drama.

“OHHHH, LOOK WHO'S EATING HIS WORDS NOW—” Kaminari howled, slinging an arm around Monoma's stiff shoulders.

“Funny,” Sero mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I could've sworn someone said we ‘lacked elegance’—”

Monoma's eye twitched. “I believe I said refinement—”

“YET HERE WE ARE!” Mina spun in front of him with a dramatic flourish, gesturing toward yn’s glittering crown. “This queen just wiped the floor with you. In the rain, no less!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Yn stepped forward with a sigh, trying—and failing—to hide the amused sparkle in her eyes. “We shouldn’t rub it in…”

She paused.

Then pulled out her phone, the screen already glowing. “...without proper documentation!”

The Bakusquad erupted.

“OHHHHHH!!!”

“SHE’S ARCHIVING THE SHAME!!!”

“SEND THAT TO THE CLASS CHAT!!!”

Bakugo, trailing just behind her, let out a bark of laughter. He leaned over her shoulder, fingers zooming in on Monoma’s scowl. “Hold still, Knockoff.”

Monoma looked ready to combust. “This is harassment!”

Kirishima, barely containing his own laughter, grinned widely. “Yn use the clown filter. For accuracy.”

Kendo, watching the chaos with amused resignation, shook her head. “You're all terrible.”

“We learned from the best,” yn replied sweetly, passing her phone to Kirishima and patting Monoma on the shoulder with mock sympathy. “Thanks for the inspiration. You’ve been great for morale.”

Kendo chuckled and stepped in, offering a hand. “Seriously, though. You were incredible.”

Yn’s smirk softened. She took Kendo’s hand, squeezing it. “Thanks. You were amazing too. Had me sweating for a second. You made the competition tough.”

Kendo grinned and pulled her into a quick, warm hug. “Coming from you? That means a lot.”

They parted with a shared look of respect before Kendo dragged a sputtering Monoma off by the collar, still mid-rant.

Then, finally, yn let the tension drain from her shoulders. She turned and collapsed into Bakugo’s side, face buried in his chest.

“Carry me,” she mumbled into his shirt, her voice muffled and sleepy.

Bakugo let out a low chuckle, wrapping an arm around her. “Yeah, yeah. I got you, princess.”

The stars were out. Quiet, for once.

Yn climbed the stairs slowly, her sweater sleeves pulled over her hands. She found him exactly where she expected—leaning against the railing, arms folded, gaze turned skyward.

“You avoiding the party?” she asked, voice light.

Bakugo didn’t look at her. “Tch. Too loud.”

She joined him at the railing, shoulder brushing his.

“I can’t celebrate my win without my coach, y’know,” she teased, glancing up at him.

That earned a small scoff. “You didn’t win ‘cause of me.”

“I didn’t win without you either,” she said softly.

He didn’t respond at first, just stared ahead, jaw tight. Then—

“You were amazing,” he said, almost grudgingly. “Stupidly amazing.”

Yn smiled. “You’re getting better at compliments.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, but his ears were definitely pink.

Silence followed, settling comfortably between them, soft and familiar.

“But I was a bit scared, you know,” yn admitted after a moment.

Bakugo snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Could’ve fooled me.”

She bumped his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious, jerk.” Then, more quietly, her expression softened. “I kept looking for you.”

Something flickered in his eyes. The distance between them diminished.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice low.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

This time, when they leaned in, there was no hesitation. Her fingers curled into his hoodie, his fingers hovered near her jaw, and the rooftop felt quieter than it had all night.

Their noses brushed, lips just about to meet—

“Yo! There you guys are!”

Bakugo’s forehead fell to yn’s shoulder with a low, agonized groan.

“Shitty Hair,” he growled, not even turning around. “I swear to god—”

“I just came to tell you there’s cake!” Kirishima grinned from the door, completely unbothered. “But hey, don’t stop on my account—”

“Kirishima.”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving!”

He disappeared back down the stairs, laughing.

Yn pressed a hand to her mouth, giggling into her palm. “Next time then,” she whispered, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah… fuck that,” Bakugo muttered, before tugging her in by the waist. “C’mere.”

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