Archive of Our Own ^beta

The last two weeks felt as fleeting as life and this Monoma understood well. He was reminiscing about the almost-kiss you two were about to share and the immense tension and chemistry between the two of you.

Your perpetual gaze that bore into his; your oh so beautifully glossy eyes and your on the verge of tearing up face; how he closed the distance between your bodies and almost united as one until you two were lamentably disturbed.

He remembered it painfully exactly as if it was happening in the present. Your lips nearly touched his, barely grazing before it was broken when that annoying, obnoxiously idiotic yellow-haired male stumbled into the empty classroom.
That meeting was cut incredibly short and since then you have been unreachable—always making plans with everyone else and never making time for him. It deeply saddened him and pained his pride specifically that he, a superior class 3B student—felt like he was being restrained by a heaps more immature class 3A brat—who were you. (And yes, he might actually be the one who’s less mentally stable and more childish. But he wouldn’t admit that—nope.)

But today, for the first time in what felt like eternity, he was going to see you. Monoma would finally come face to face with the one person who he yearned to be with yet dreaded the most. Today marked the graduation party for the hero department in UA—the event where many would have to say goodbye to the friends they made as they embark on their journey to becoming a pro hero.

It would be a bittersweet memory to anyone else. In Monoma’s case though, he longed most for drinking in those precious eyes of yours that could speak volumes of just pure requisite and desire for him. Monoma continued to fantasize about the littlest details about your entirety, when unfortunately, he’s shaken from his sweet reverie when Kendou Itsuka, the class representative, was very obviously scrutinizing his daydreaming state and audibly making known that he was in class through her strict gaze. Kendou shot a sharp glare at the blonde while he blinked back to reality. Upon having noticed this, Kendou put on a kind smile, the skin around her eyes noticeably crinkling and her gaze softening.

“You thinking about something in particular?” She remarked on his dreamy condition, whispering under her breath to ensure no one else hears her other than who she intended it for.

Monoma Neito, the ever so cocky guy was caught off guard and his face—coated with dark shades of red.

“Actually, no, what makes you think that?” He quickly spluttered but his flushed expression contradicted his words.

Much unconvinced, Kendou simply rolls her eyes at said male.

Due to his initial embarrassment, she could discern what he might’ve been thinking. “Are you thinking about that student in class A?” Guessed Kendou, and much to Monoma’s dismay, what she pinpointed was correct.

It was a horrifying thought. He always thought of you as a rival, a person to one-up in every aspect and declare victory over every single battle and face-off you two had. Every single play-fight he caused was due to his ego, and he felt the need to prove himself to you.
To let you be consumed by him and his constant wins. His undisputed rivalry toward you, however, slowly shifted into one of obsession, love and romance. It was a terrible thing—how he wished to see you.

And yet, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips whenever he laid eyes on you.

The sudden beating against his chest that threatened to rupture its way out, ravaging.
The tension he feels building up in his entire body and the breaths he didn’t know he was holding (until he let them out) whenever you’d utter the simplest words of encouragement.

You had the most clearest effect on him. On top of being downright beautiful, you had those pearly whites which revealed themselves every time you flashed your trademark grin at Monoma; you had that face that adorably flushed at every teasing comment and every cheeky remark; and most importantly, those eyes that lit up with a sparkling glint at every compliment he could muster without stammering with a raging red face.

He wondered. Was he truly deserving of you? Pfft. Of course he was. Monoma is better than anyone in class 3A, and you went to class 3A. Heck, the question could twist vice-versa—whether you deserved him.

But why was it then he felt this creeping insecurity? This unmistakable jealousy, that whenever you conversed with another male, would rise up and over the skies.

This infatuation with you, that he told himself was simply because you were a formidable opponent to train with, only grew and buried itself deeper and deeper—beyond comprehension.

He wondered. Why did it have to be you?

You and your sunny smiles were enough to blind people’s eyes. Monoma was convinced that he could bottle up those pretty smiles for rainy days due to how scorchingly warm it was. He feared he’d burn if he witnessed you at your utmost glorious beam.

You and your epitomized supply of unreal beauty, for when you seemed your lowest, you shined just as bright. That supply must contain magic, otherwise, how do you appear so ethereally beautiful at your worst as well as your best? Perhaps it was a secondary quirk he didn’t know of. But then how is it that he has never been able to copy it on every occasion where he got to train with you? It must’ve just been a blank.

Monoma scoffed at the train of thoughts of simply you. Then came the instantaneous silent reprimands for even thinking of you so much.

He surmised that you must be slowly brainwashing him and was instantly following up with more conclusions and theories that he stirred up in his head before Kendou snapped him out of his daydream, once again.

“Are you okay?” She asked, rather worried. For every single time Kendou felt worried about Monoma’s behaviour she gained a dollar, she’d be the wealthiest in the entire school. Probably even give Yaoyorozu a run for her money. (pun not intended)

Monoma sat hunched over his chair, sighing dramatically. “I’m fine,” he stubbornly assured. “Lay off my back.” He snapped, proceeding to attend to his troubled, scattered thoughts.

“Uh, okay, apologies,” Kendou simply replied, the worry lacing her undertone and still present on her face, yet she managed to muster a smile.

Due to Monoma’s mind only flooding with images of you and his frantic expression, he self-proclaimed that he was not feeling his usual best—what others would’ve otherwise called ‘hopelessly in love’.

—

Precariously clutched at your chest was a red party cup filled with tap water and your purse after having secretly chugged down an immeasurable amount of wine at the graduation party. The event was arranged by the headteacher as well as Vlad King and Mr. Aizawa, and they tried to make sure the underage students didn’t drink alcohol as a form of celebration, but here you were, acting as the reckless teenager you were.

You didn’t even care if the flush on your face due to the alcohol was evident or not, your eyes were only skimming and searching for a specific blonde to speak with since you hadn’t for a while. The influence of the liquor was affecting you heavily and elevated your confidence tremendously, enough to make you utter the unspeakable words you have wanted to tell Monoma.

Through thorough surveying, you spotted Monoma from across the venue, near the snack table, regaling and entertaining his personal circle of friends from class 3B and returning conversations smoothly. An egotistical chuckle escaped his lips as he raised a brow, speaking elegantly and confidently to his peers.

He raised a mocktail in that cocky manner you found yourself gravitating towards. Through the prolonged chatter that filled the room, you could only hear Monoma. You knew Monoma was only surrounding himself with others since he concluded that he’d be a stuttering mess around only you. Hence, you found yourself itching closer to his person since you had been wanting to talk to him for a while, ever since that heated moment in that empty classroom.

Your thoughts consisted only of Monoma, and littered with all the thoughts you urged to slur. The tension heaving in your chest did not dissipate, but increased ten times in intensity and your legs felt tirelessly heavy. Taking a step felt abnormally strangling and you didn’t know if the after effects of the booze was stimulating you this way.

Slowly, but surely, you approached the said blonde, and it was then he finally paid attention to you dragging your feet.

Monoma presented himself as a refined, polished young man as he did arrogantly, and could only smirk at the sight of you. “Your face is red,” he snarked but without its usual sass. In fact, you could hear his voice significantly soften upon noticing your hazy, intoxicated self.

What belied underneath the grin you pieced together quickly was your feverish complexion and Monoma hurriedly started to inspect every aspect of your face and condition. “What happened to you?” He asked, sudden care lacing his tone.

He waved off his friends, shooing them to ensure you and him were completely alone and granted privacy, and his expression adjusted to one of concern. A gentle hand was firmly placed atop your shoulder and with his other he gripped your hand.

“Hey, tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded, brows furrowing.

Embarrassingly, you admitted to what you’re under the influence of and how much you drank before signaling to the cup you were holding to show him that you were trying to sober up. “This is the first time I’ve ever drank and it honestly feels like shit,” you mused, still grinning like an idiot.

He could only clutch his stomach before laughing maniacally, throwing his head back. “First time?” He barely managed out.

“Yes, first time,” you frowned. “What? Is it not yours? Have you drunk alcohol before?”

“I have,” he smirked as if it was something to receive a medal for. “I can hold my liquor much better than you clearly can,” he eyed you up and down before grabbing your hand tightly yet softly, and rushing somewhere.

You had absolutely no clue as to what was currently happening and too drunk to process, but you fully trusted that he had no ill intent so you went along as the wind whipped both of your clothes.

Your carefully braided ponytail slowly undid itself and your luscious hair was set free from the suffocating hairstyle. Idiotically, you beamed and your laugh echoed in Monoma’s ears as you both ran. Oh how lovely you looked, thought Monoma when he turned his head back momentarily to check on you. As you two picked up the pace and sprinted off somewhere, the rest of the students could merely ponder about your whereabouts.

The gust of winds cooled you two down as you became rather warm due to running. After what felt like eons, you two slowed down to calm your nerves and catch your breath.

“What was that for?” You laughed, and it was such a sweet, melodic tune to Neito’s ears. Your laugh was one of his most favorite things in the entire world. If he could, he’d capture that infectious giggle in a music box where it’d play with a spinning ballerina atop it, and as long as he rewinded the small handle connected to it, it’d play that melodious song day in and out.

Monoma’s gaze softened. “Tiring you out so you sleep. Best way to sober up is to rest and take it easy.”

He lied. He just wanted to do that. You obviously deduced as much. He’s so obvious.

The backdrop of the sunset against Monoma made his body barely visible and he was turned into a silhouette. His skin gleamed, however, and the radiance was enough to bring you back to your sober mind. For a moment, all you could do was watch Monoma. Take in his essence.

You started to notice the little details about him that you normally wouldn’t. His softened eyes with no trace of malice, those of his that focused on yours. His neatly put-together tuxedo in complete disarray from sprinting. His tousled hair with the ever slightest remnants of sweat that the breeze so gently flowed through. His cheeks that were dusted with an admirable pink hue.

What you didn’t notice, however, was how his heart was currently constricting painstakingly in his chest. He stood motionless, masking the turmoil looming within. Twas the effect that you had on him. He hated it. And remarkably so—he loved every slice of it. Perhaps what he hated was how twisted and uncertain he felt inside.

Neito was utterly torn between silencing these petty feelings and letting them soar unhindered through the horizon, and allowing himself to be engulfed by the sun that was you. He’d have to let himself fall to the sea in order to not be consumed by your fervor—just to find out the tides were also that of an embrace, from you to him. He was fated to an unforeseen tragedy. He was doomed. Neito Monoma was utterly doomed.

The ongoing storm of thoughts within him was rendered to a standstill when you suddenly spoke, and yet again, it was truly terrible how effortlessly you could bend him to your will.

“So you wanna talk about last time? I mean, that time in that empty classroom.” Your words strung together, accompanied by your voice that was smooth as silk. Even if you were exceptionally good at hiding it, the slight tremor in your eyes gave your nervousness away.

“Our situationship, you mean?” The usual condescending tone you were used to had seemingly dispersed, introducing you to a new version of him—one without his snarky remarks or haughty comments. Instead, you were met with a version of him who finally let his walls down—one who had finally realized he was forever defenseless against you.

A hoarse, vulnerable whisper sounded from you. “I’m sorry if it came across like that. Like as if this thing between us isn’t fully established.”

Tears started welling up in your eye sockets, and admittedly, Neito found himself developing an appeal to it. It brought him back to two weeks ago.

Through the din, a thick fog befell on the heavy shackles of his confined mind. The mental burden his feelings imposed on him weighed on his conscience heavily. Your alluring words were a clear invitation to a kiss, were they not? He had no qualms about it. He was certain they were.

A giggle emitted from the depths of your throat, your tone teasing. “Finally admitting I'm far better? And that my class is simply better?”

“Yeah, no. I think class B is better. In every single aspect, actually.” He shot back with a snide declaration of his own. Neito approached closer, backing you up into the board of the empty classroom in pursuit of earning a flushed yelp from you, which he inevitably did.

Your face contorted in embarrassment. “You’re getting dangerously close.”

“Yeah? And you’re gonna do what?”

“Nothing. Might just let you continue.”

“Uh huh?” Neito’s smirk grew wider.

“Mhm.”

Neito drew closer with each step feeling like devastatingly heavy anvils on his feet that purposefully dragged him down. He knew he shouldn’t have. At least, his pride knew he shouldn’t have.

But he was already infatuated with the idea of you—scratch that, with the entirety of you. He found himself even obsessing over something like your well-being. Monoma cursed himself for it, but the truth was he had memorized every single sign of your exhaustion—from the faint tremor of your hands after the overuse of your quirk, the lingering dark eye circles from days you’d overwork yourself too much, the way your breath would hitch during times you had thought no one would notice.

Monoma had always been the type to thrive in the present. But you had him, spun around your fingertips, longing for a future that promised the both of you time for each other. Figuratively and sometimes quite literally, he’s been brought to his knees by you. Not that he’d admit ever, though.

Never had he been enthralled by someone as graceful and lovely as you before, and he’s had his fair share of casual flings, short-lived connections, as well as relationships that barely scraped the surface—never delving deeper. You were much different. Someone worthy of him, at least, that was what he was trying to believe. You shone radiantly, and even that might’ve been an understatement.

Monoma wished to shield you—to tear the exhaustion tainting your being and embrace you as he’d protect you. This growing urge would have completely consumed him if he hadn’t given in anytime earlier.

It wasn’t just your beauty, or your determination to become a pro hero. It was truly everything about you. Even as each and every obstacle in your life ate at you, you were devoted to charging straight forward, meeting everything face to face with an unremarkable independence.

Now that he thought about it, it would’ve been a vain attempt to try and protect you.

Your selflessness, your independence, and your absolute carefree lifestyle would’ve kept him from keeping you all caged up and protected. But that’s another thing he loved about you. Even as he’d wish for you to submit yourself to him, he knew it’d be an ideal, but futile notion.

He loathed himself. So much. But—

—how could he not be enraptured? How could he not be infatuated with a woman who scorched so fiercely, illuminating all the hours of his life, even as the flames began to ravage you?

Already being backed into the wall, you stood steady footed, and for some odd reason, tears just started pricking at your eyes. Panic etched onto Monoma’s features as his brows knotted in astonishment. Hastily, he brought his hands up to the sides of your face to cup them upon noticing the unyielding vulnerability flicker in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

You laughed, lips curling into a grin, adamantly dismissing his words. “No, no. Just—we’re finally alone. I finally get to have some peace. With you.”

“No, I urge you to be truthful. I don’t want to accidentally pressure you into doing something you’re not comfortable with.” His tone unmistakably softened, all the while he pulled his body even closer to you, his hands now finding their path on your sides.

“No, really. I’m not,” you reassured him, baring all your teeth childishly.

He could only smile in return. “Okay.”

And for a moment, all the unspoken feelings rushed to his gaze like an unforeseen storm, overwhelming him in an instant. Catching on, you brought your own hands to tenderly frame his face before the door knob started twisting and squeaking, signaling that someone was about to enter. Fear of the unknown character turning out to be a teacher tugged at your side and tore you from his proximity as the door slid open.

Fortunately, you could drown in relief for the reason of the revelation of the mystery behind the door turning out to be your classmate—Kaminari. But soon that relief shifted to an emotion of disappointment for being yet again interrupted. The two of you really couldn’t catch a break.

Mentally shaking off his train of thought and the memories, Monoma, rather eagerly (that cheeky bastard), brought his hand to touch your waist and his other followed shortly after—feeling the need to shelter you. He didn’t care anymore—didn’t care whether or not this was accepted by the egoistic standards he set up for himself. After years of purely tormenting you, the simple reason being you were a class A student, he’d learned to accept his undeniable feelings toward you, though he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was undeserving of you.

Now, he didn’t care about putting his needs before his pride. He didn’t have a single care about getting handsy and pulling you closer.

“It’s fine. I mean, as long as you’re willing to fully ‘establish’ it, like you put it.” His lips tugged into a lopsided smile.

“I’d really like to,” you muttered. You worried he didn’t catch your words due to them being below a whisper the second they left your mouth.

“Then do it. Confirm and ‘establish’ this between us.” Monoma’s words were daring and sounded challenging, but in reality, he was hoping you wouldn’t notice the silent plea hidden beneath his tone. He’d have to give it to your observational skills if you did notice how he was quietly yet loudly begging.

“Of course,” you answered, and with that, you pulled him flush into a chaste kiss. The taste of your lips lingered for only a moment before it erased itself from his lips. He licked his lips, not to lubricate it for more, but just to savor your own taste.

“That wasn’t a real kiss. Do it again,” he demanded. And there he was, you thought. The bratty, snobby, and classic Monoma you knew and loved. Although, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love all his different sides.

“Okay, princess,” you playfully rolled your eyes before grabbing him by the collar to place yet another kiss again, his pulse quickening. From his second experience, he could tell you were incredibly horrid at kissing. But that’s fine. He was okay with teaching you.

“What was that? You’re absolutely pathetic. Here, this is how you do it.” Neito’s lips met yours gently, ready to stop in case you were to back out, and connected soft and hesitantly. Then, as everything he knew faded away into a void, the kiss deepened, more urgent, as if to make up for all the lost time. Before you knew it, he was completely ravaging at your lips with a fervor and tenacity that you’d never known before. His kisses were one that indicated a man who was desperate and had been waiting for the longest period of time.

Immediately when you let your guard down and gasped, he used the opening as an opportunity to bring forth his tongue to explore your mouth, trying to taste as well as relish in your flavor while the both of you closed your eyes. Like a hungry man, his hands started to roam all over your body and eventually he closed the distance between the two of you, just like two weeks ago, and finally pulled away for air.

It felt unfair, you barely got to partake in anything with your inexperience. You felt like he was just sucking your air supply dry during the entire experience, but that seemingly aroused you all the more. The red on your face was more apparent afterwards and you pouted your lips for more. One kiss from him wasn’t enough, but unfortunately, since something called air does exist, you were forced to catch your breath.

After finally getting enough oxygen filtered into your lungs, you spoke. “So are we finally a thing or?”

“Yes, we are, unless you’re opposed to that?”

“No, no, just had to confirm.”

“Mm. Wanna head back?”

“Mkay.”