Note:
Flashbacks and thoughts in italics
I do not condone or encourage any behaviors in this story. It is simply a fictional story.
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The first time he met her, she was in their backyard, hiding behind her mom's skirt, evading the gaze of everyone, regardless of people's age or gender or even aesthetics. Therefore, unsurprisingly, she avoided him too, like a plague. But god, did he know that it didn't last long.
"You're that girl from the summer festival. Right? I go to the same middle school." Her head jolted up at his statement.
"..." She scowled and stayed still, her spine stiff like there was cardboard attached to it to keep her in place. Katsuki was annoyed. He hated "attitude," like in the sitcom he watched last week, where the hero had pointed out how meek weirdos needed to learn a lesson. He did not understand why the hero apologized for humiliating the stupid though, like he doesn't understand why his mom, aka, old hag Mitsuki calls him a "brat" in the first place. All brave powerful men like Katsuki himself are brats? Nope, he is special, no one is like him.
Katsuki was still waiting for the next episode. "Are you a mute?"
"..." He wasn't about to deal with this girl's attitude.
"What a whore." At that, the fluffy mop of green bobbled up with eyes wide, looking at him with an empty horror. In two milliseconds, she was tearing up, bawling her eyes out.
Straight away, a loud bang over the buffet table caught his attention. "Katsuki!" That was his mom. He knew what was on the table for him. "Where did you learn that from!"
His mouth shut up like a clam. He didn't want his mom to know that he was watching an 18+ series at his friend's house. If his mom ever finds out, he'll expose that Sharp Tooth had seen it too.
"What? Why do you look like that? Constipated. You're hiding something from me?" He had yet to finish his internship for creating believable lies. Thus, it's no surprise knowing his mother read his nerves from his unusually expressive face. In the interim, Katsuki flushed hot pink. He wasn't worried about his mom thinking that he was hiding stuff, but the fact that she used the word 'constipated' in front of this girl, frustrated him. Damn. How could she ruin his 'cool boy' image in front of a girl?! So cruel of her. He was repulsive about getting embarrassed.
What was that he just heard? Hiccups? Giggles. Instantly, his head whipped to the left, where the girl was clutching her tummy and wheezing from her laughing fit. He glared, his eyes cold stones. Desperate to still the display before him, in his mind, he pictured himself as a Medusa, immediately cringing. He was not a bitch! Okay, maybe. But like hell!
"Shut up. Ugly." He wanted to find satisfaction in nicknaming her "Ugly." But something was wrong, felt wrong. As things go, what swirled into him was bitterness. Bakugo was not dumb because he knew why he couldn't get enough pleasure from the deed.
Before he knew it, little Butter Lettuce was mopping around again. This girl looked cute, albeit gloomy. Her green hair and big unblinking eyes reminded him of the lush greens in his dad's vegetable patch. Okay then, he shall accept that she was to his liking. No biggie.
So instead of the previous one, Katsuki decided to call her another name. "Tsk. Crybaby." Despite his want to learn more about them, he was compelled to act more like a good host than a nosy neighbour. Which might wait a little longer.
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Katsuki blinked away milestones, soaring away with his rocket fire blasting to the skies.
He got away from people and home, even from gazing at the galaxy of stars, all those little things that make him sink in puddles of ticklish warmth. His aim was far away, his dream a milky way. So pretty it blinds.
He missed mom and dad, and friends and love. He needed to be taken back to his family, the people who loved him, the place that touched him with warmth.
All this time he was chasing dreams, silly dreams without realising it. It never dawned on him until now that he had neglected warmth, love and those precious moments in life while he had his eyes set on his goals...
"Tell Soya Sauce to get my car back here right now. I want to get there before she leaves."
"Where? Who's she?"
"None of your fucking business." Bakugo barked, pacing around the room and scrabbling inside every shelve he could find.
"Aw. Bakubro, I can find out myself. And no, you will not find clothes on the kitchen shelf." Kaminari would've snickered had he not bonked his head on the desk just now.
"Where is my denim jacket?!"
"Someone's dressing up for someone..." Kaminari fizzed and cooed before touching the big stupid bump on his forehead with a hiss. Bakugo followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at a super-sexy black turtle neck that would hug his pecs and leave nothing to the imagination. Girls and boys alike would drool over with no objection.
"Shut up. Short circuit." Bakugo murmured under his breath, advertently brushing it off, familiar with his pal's tendencies to prolong the annoying teasing. Seriously, as it happens, the shithead would go overboard with it by singing its song version two months later in the shower. Honestly, Bakugo had not been dressing up or anything. It's just a nice shirt, and he had this unusual urge to show it off today. Today is not a special day–of course not. There's absolutely no festive vibe in the air. It's usual with birds singing and grass moving outside the window, and blah blah, not noteworthy or anything. That is if you exclude the imaginary confetti bursting in Katsuki's head. "Besides, that isn't the shirt I'm gonna wear."
Sure, there's this foreign calm rising within him, but Katsuki has barred it from his list of "special things" for the time being. He doubts it's contagious because Kaminari shouldn't be grinning at him like a fool. Katsuki thinks that if Denki looked like a total dunce before, nothing would compare to how he looks now. He has brought "dunce face" to the peak of its perfection. Katsuki wanted to clap.
"Yee yee, I'm sure you'll impress her, whoever she is." The ash-blonde narrowed his eyes, burning holes in Kaminari's clothes, immediately regretting it. The sunflower blonde's dressing sense assaulted Katsuki's eyesight, a bright yellow shirt and bright red pants overwhelmed Bakugo's eyes enough to make him wish he was colour blind. "I wish you were naked." But Bakugo refrained from questioning dunce face's choice of clothing, inquiring him if he got the trash for free. He had better things to do, for example, admiring his handsome self in the mirror.
"What? You have a thing for me?"
"The fuck is wrong with you! That's not what I meant, Dunce-face." The said man just stuck his tongue out at Bakugo before shifting his concentration to what he had been doing. He was tiptoeing on the baluster that ramped as the crow flys to the backyard garden of the building, something which had to take care of with diligent coordination. Bakugo was sure that Pikachu-Fry would come to be ready shortly forasmuch-as the guy was directly under the searing sun at high noon. "Tch. Electricity For Brains."
"Hey man, I didn't say it's a bad thing." Kaminari retaliated, slipping the rails with an unsexy scream, almost hitting his head twice over the marble. A while after rummaging through his closet, Bakugo snatched the shirt out with a "gotcha!" He tied the jacket around his waist and slipped his feet into a pair of black converse.
"Are you alive? I need to charge my phone." He wanted to know how Izuku was and if he was doing alright. He felt like a spineless milksop for letting the shorter guy slip off from between his fingers that easily. Yeah.
Kaminari whined, putting on the most sorrowful pout he could sham. "People are using me to escape from their electricity bills. I swear to god I'm gonna-"
"I can get you Washing Machine's number."
"Bro. Really?"
"Yeah." Bakugo winked with a mild smug look on his face. And Just like that, Kaminari zipped his mouth. Like the best boy, he is.
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She could've done something, without much fuss, without a fight with mom. Something. She could have just vanished like a drop into the water.
She was not afraid of getting hurt. She was used to pain and liked the healing numbness. She simply doesn't like the tang of helplessness, of becoming "too numb" to avenge herself just the same.
But Izuku had put things off. Now, look where that landed her, in the bunk bed of the UA University of Sorcery. Izuku's dad knew she had a taste in magic, and he had exploited it. It was her mistake, indeed, letting her likes and dislikes get observed and charted by pirates like her mom. Her castles hadn't been as guarded by moats as they should've been. Her mom had built a yacht and yawed a way to the daughter's chest in ways that maddened her.
Hisashi told Izuku to trade her life with him to make one of her wishes come true. Izuku had never imagined that she would get this chance, nor had she thought she deserved to get it. But now that she got presented with it, she couldn't help but accept the tempting gratification, even if it meant trading her soul for the person she hated the most.
And no, by selling her soul, Izuku means she would get to choose her death no more. As in, she has no choice but to live in this shell of a body without liberating her soul; she can no longer attempt to kill herself. So here she is after her tenth suicide attempt, chained to this life because of a silly temptation-turned-wish-fulfilment.
Izuku lugged off the bed, trampling to the desk where her books slept, one on top of another, a few ink quills poking out from a wooden box. She took the quill between her digits and dipped it in the opened ink glass. Just as she was about to sit down on the chair to start scribbling on the parchment pages of her diary, the door creaked open a chink.
"Izzu." Ochako's startling giggle and mellow Beta scent drifted over to her ears.
"Hey." Izuku's had non of the chroma hers had, monotonous and inquiring.
The Beta paddled closer with narrowed eyes. "Are you writing a love letter?"
Izuku was 99 per cent certain she could never look like someone who writes such cheesy, pointless prose. "No."
Ochako was someone she could put up with, and in the process of putting up with her, she had somehow become her friend and gotten under Izuku's skin. Scheming idiot. She accepted it after several outright claims by Ochako that she and Izuku are bestfriends.
"That white blonde, a hot-lipped hunk of a guy was looking intently at you."
"What kind of creep are you referring to?" Izuku's sharp senses picked up a bud of impishness blooming among her friend's garden of gardenias.
"Bakugo Katsuki seems to know you." Removing her socks and changing into her pyjamas, the Beta answered in a sing-song voice. "The Alpha boy wants to talk to you."
Now Izuku gets why the brunette was overly obnoxious in the morning. Ochako turns into this nastily sweet lady whenever she wants something from her. At first, Izuku had found that annoying before her puppy-dog-cocoa-eyes became surprisingly adorable for her. Even though the Beta's sherbet-like scent becomes a bit of an overdose for her sensitive Omega.
Guess that's what happens when you let someone into the cold chambers of your heart, and the troublemaker birdbrain starts flickering up a bonfire inside it like in the middle of a goddamn camping trip.
"Bakugo is my ex."
"Wow, that is brand-new data." Ochako wagged her eyebrows before flopping down on the bed.
Her best friend scorned her. "Wrong. That's outdated rotten data that no longer needs updating."
"Alrighty." Ochako drawled. "I'll figure out how to get the candy he gave me back."
"He bribed you with candies? And you accepted it?" Izuku rolled her shocked eyes. "Why am I surprised! Sounds just like you."
"He asked what I wanted. I remembered our empty candy jar."
"You ate 'em all? I bought it only last week. You'll get diabetic, you fool!" The brunette blew raspberries at her before climbing the ladder to her mattress above Izuku's. The other girl told her sweet dreams after throwing a magazine up for her to catch. Immediately once Ochako opened the page with a bookmark, her sceptical frown met with atrocious content.
Crime thriller horror. Ochako's least favourite genre. Because ghosts disgusted her. If shivering on your way to the bathroom in the middle of the night and ending up returning halfway across the room to wake Izuku up is what you call disgusting. There was a bit of tossing and turning, and then a shudder rattled the entire bed and Izuku on the bottom.
The emotion on her face was sour, and so was her scent—the odour of wilted gardenias and something else, as she peeped down to eyeball at Izuku's shit-eating grin. For a few seconds, Izuku considered she must've eaten a lemon rind.
"Bitch. Don't you dare show me the picture of this sick, ugly slut. Not again!" Ochako bellowed, jabbing a nail into the column with the picture of a ghost. "Mark my words, Izuku. You're paying for this."
"I'll get a marker, okay. But what payment?" Izuku tilted her head as her eyelashes fluttered like feather fans. "I did not buy anything."
"I'm not kidding." Ochako barked and nodded.
"You're not a kid," The lass bolted from her bed instantly after Ochako hopped down from hers. "yeah."
"IZUKU!" Izuku scooted, the brunette hot on her heels.
These days, ruminations about giving up on life rarely ever pop into her headspace, to be honest. She does love herself, and maybe, she's starting to enjoy life.
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"Nerd. Since you're such a shy moron, I'll do the talking." The hot air had them both sweating buckets, even with the air-conditioning. Besides, smoke from Izuku's charred blazer was yet to simmer and cool. Bakugo coughed before rubbing the sweat cooling inside the palms over the itch behind his neck. Was it just hot air or something else entirely?
"I don't like dragging this on forever. Let's get this over with." Izuku was taken aback by the roughness of his sound, and the digits on his scalp. "You hate me. And I hate you." Bakugo's arms had already found his wavy curls, grabbing a handful of them, fisting. He pulled at the wet fringes, tilting the matcha boy's pale pulsing neck. Yes, it was something else entirely.
"You know what we both need?" Bakugo's breath on the column of his exposed neck lingered crisp, but that was before he leaned down to press a loud smooch right there, with his red pepper lips. So hot. So. Fucking. Damn. Hot lips.
He kissed once again, this time harder as his teeth scraped the skin, blooming a gooseflesh meadow all over the shorter boy. "You and I need to blow off some steam."
"Kacchan." Izuku gulps, blinking away the moisture of his eyes, from the sweat streaming down his glistening forehead. He peeped up through his slanting wispy lashes to meet those orbs, fiery eyes burning into his core like the sun in May.
You jerk. Izuku doesn't dare add.
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"UA" The chiseled inscription shone bold and distinct as the early sun streaked off the freshly finished square cut pillars. There were certain things that Izuku liked, and certain people she came to dislike. One of the heartthrobs of UA University, the Explosion King of 1A Guild, as he's popularly called by his overflowing fangirls and boys beyond the campus, Bakugo Katsuki, is one such withered infatuation. Her steep transition from the pile of things she loves to the things she has thrown away in her Pandora's box amazes her even now.
For her, love had been like a fruit that's sweet at first and bittersweet towards the end. Izuku let out a sigh as she gathered her long hair into a large bush and tied it into a high ponytail. She has grown her hair long over the past few years, and it now reaches the beginning of her thighs.
She gandered 700 meters to the verdant coniferous yonder on the farthest side of her dorm block and curled her lips. She had found the perfect solace hidden away in all the flora. Her destination wasn't far behind. Izuku dusted the imaginery lint on her trench coat before she broke into the sprint she oh-so wanted, to clear her mind a bit.
It's not that she doesn't like the company of her friend and her dorm mates. But there was something about being alone that she missed. She loved working alone, which was why she was dashing to the woods with her backpack intact.
Her brown hiking boots slightly thudded against the grass as she veered and ducked under the boughs with a grace only years of expertise could bring. The sun sank beyond the pointed cedar tips to an unreachable place. Dusk skirted over the skyline in flawless golden ruffles.
"Ugh." Izuku cried when a twig, camouflaged in low leafy boscage, yanked back a lock of her hair. She stopped running to smooth and untangle her hair. "I ought to have reminded myself to wear it in a bun rather than a ponytail." She grumbled.
"Damn. I can't believe I-" Izuku slitted her eyes.
She fell silent the moment she sensed something around her. Something is amiss. When blonde spikes thrusted out from the white mist, Izuku discerned what it was. She backed away and hid behind a tree to avoid an encounter she wasn't pleased to have. Would he have picked up her scent already? Izuku drew her arm to the side of her head, rechecking the scent patches she had pasted to her skin.
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It might be the morning blues. Shivering, Eijiro rubbed his red, cold snoot. Aizawa had called off on their mission, and the boys were more than happy to be left to their own devices. Even then, he wasn't sure why Bakugo insisted trudging on this side of the forest or why the blonde looked—for lack of better words—dressed up.
He splashed his face with the water and turned the lid of the water bottle tightly. "Are you trying to bake the forest or calculating where to barbeque me to death?" He arched an eyebrow. His companion had been grumpy since the morning. "Seriously, why are you looking at me like I killed your dog?"
"Shudap." A raspy baritone singed over the air. "Your humour is unbearable."
"My questions were geniune! I'm concerned about my wellbeing."
Kicking up a carpet of dry foliage on his way, Bakugo leaped down from the tree he had perched on. "What are we going to drink now?" He stared him down with a rigid face. "Did you really have to wash your face with drinking water, you fucking dunce?"
Hunting is an adrenaline rush. No wonder Eijiro was the first to suggest it when they knew it was a day off. His father is a weapons specialist in the UA Army, and has close connections with the king. Firearms were his strong point. He was a dedicated sharpshooter, over and above. Thankfully, Eijiro had inherited some of the spunk and artistry along with that blood-red hair. "I saw pond on the way."
"No one else is itching to get a stomach cramp and diarrhoea on top of that. I drink boiled, clean water. "
"Health conscious much. What will we drink now?"
"Talk about the oxygen that you waste." Clearing his throat, Bakugo's frustrated digits disappeared into his golden mane.
"What did you-!" Eijiro glanced away with dilated pupils and inhaled, long and slow. "Bakubro..."
The man asked with his nose in the air: "You know that smell?" "Stop sniffing. It's grossing me out. "
Bakugo's eyebrows knitted together even though he'd agree that it's hard not to take a whiff. The scent felt ambrosial. And familiar.
"Aww. C'mon. I know more than anyone else you're sexually frustrated right now. Heck, you even yelled at Sero in the morning." He snickered out loud. "The poor thing just wanted to clear a doubt."
"Poor thing! Him?" Hah, like he doesn't have a reason for that outburst. Soya Sauce had barged into his bathroom while he was jerking off!
Thank goodness, he is an Alpha and Bakugo got turned off, immediately. Sero is a problematic asshole, which is exactly why Katsuki had told his housemates to not give away the room keys to little shits like him. But aside from his prowess in sorcery, Kaminari is one big dick as well. Of course, he wouldn't make anything easier.
When Bakugo asked, rather screamed at his face, his excuse motivated him to bite off his head even more-as Eijiro put it. That mannerless little shit had gotten tired of waiting for him to finish bathing, and eventually decided that he could just knock the bathroom door down instead. If that didn't piss him off, he went on to complain about having had to witness naked bakutits. Eijiro had rolled on the floor, guffawing, but Bakugo wasn't having any of it.
"Shh." Eijiro hushed, eyelids pinching in mischief at the ends of his deep-set hazel eyes. "It's an Omega."
"Pervert-" Bakugo clicked his tongue. He wanted to tell him to stop treating Omegas like sexual objects. But he wasn't going to exhaust his tongue for a lost cause.
"Cat calling kettle black."
"It's 'pot calling the kettle back.'" "-and a racist." Bakugo finishes, wishing he could slam his head against the bark of a tree right about now.
"When did I become a racist?" I have a 'rainbow cat' named 'rainbow cat'. " Eijiro protested. "Besides, it's been some time since I got laid."
A rainbow what? Bakugo threw him a disgusted look as he continued to sing: "I like the scent. I'm gonna hit. I'm hot all by myself. Your pretty ass-will stay out of this. " He warned.
It wasn't a request, but a statement, a justifiable concern indeed. They had the exact same stature, even though their build was slightly different. So this has every probability of the Omega opting for the redhead over the white blond, and viceversa, if Bakugo decides to intervene. "Listen here, fuckface."
"When you're done preening," Bakugo was already bounding down the woods when he gruffed out, "you can get moving."
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