Boku No Hero Academia One Shots [Book 1]

Eijiro Kirishima

Requested by: Sodaleaves

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"You're really good with your hands."

This comment made you flush a brilliant crimson, akin to the one you were delicately rubbing into his scalp. You weren't exactly sure what compelled you to comply with his odd request, but you figured it would be a good exercise in friendship. Not that you particularly needed to strengthen yours, since you were pretty close – so maybe you wanted to be closer still?

Whatever the reason, this was a great deal of proximity that you were not really equipped to handle, especially not when he started reeling off suggestive, flirty snippets of dialogue that caused your hair to stand on end, and your entire face to erupt like an angry volcano. Although he couldn't see your reactions, he knew his words were getting to you, because he was able to feel the slight tremble of your hand against his head, and he strained to hear the shallow, nervous breaths escaping your lips.

He continued facing forwards, allowing you the freedom to stain his hair the beautiful colour he had chosen.

"What else can they do?" He suddenly asked, interrupting your attempt to maintain composed.

You blinked, confused. "H-Huh?"

"Your hands, I mean."

Being an easily flustered individual didn't help your case, but you could have sworn that he was intentionally trying to make you feel uncomfortable. You gathered that from the facial expression he displayed when he turned around briefly – he stuck his tongue out at you, gifting a wide, closed-eye smile. His pearly white, razor-sharp teeth were almost blinding. He truly was such an amazing, handsome person, and you genuinely felt so lucky to have him as a friend.

A small wave of depression washed over you, as that unsavoury word flashed in your mind. Were you really content with remaining in the friend zone? He was flirting with you, so technically that meant he wanted something more, right? You sincerely hoped you hadn't been overthinking this.

"(Y/n)..." He exaggerated your name, clearly aware that you were daydreaming, and had stopped the movement of your hands.

Your head snapped up to greet him, and you stammered out an apology. He smiled and told you not to worry about it, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you couldn't look away from him.

"You got some of the dye on my pants."

You let out an embarrassed squeak. "I-I'm so sorry!"

He gazed at you expectantly. "Well?"

"Well what?" You questioned, wishing he would leave you alone so that you could just bury yourself already.

"How are you going to clean it?"

[Word Count: 435]