Throughout the years with Katsuki, you noticed something that never changed: his expression. Though he occasionally chuckled, his usual scowl remained, as if he was always bracing for something. Even during light-hearted moments, his brow furrowed, and his jaw tightened, as if those features were etched into his face.

You’d gotten together in your second year at U.A. It wasn’t a grand romance, but messy and full of miscommunications. Katsuki’s brashness made it hard to imagine finding common ground, but there was something about him that kept pulling you in. Beneath the rough exterior, you saw vulnerability. He wasn’t great with words, but he showed his care through little things—like resting his hand on your shoulder when you were low or remembering tiny details you'd shared.

This particular morning, you were in the kitchen, the soft sunlight casting a gentle glow through the window. You had patrol later, but mornings were your time. The coffee brewed in the background while you danced around the kitchen, and Katsuki silently watched, his usual scowl softened just a little. His presence was calm, his eyes sharp yet gentle.

You cracked a silly joke, something ridiculous, but instead of his usual eye roll or dismissive grunt, Katsuki actually smiled. It wasn’t wide, but a soft, genuine smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. And then, you noticed—he had dimples. Tiny, subtle indentations that appeared when he smiled, as if his usual serious expression couldn’t completely hide the softness beneath. How had you never seen them before? After years together, it was in this quiet moment that you truly noticed.

“The hell you staring at…?” His groggy voice cut through your thoughts, still tinged with sleep but unmistakably gruff. His question wasn’t harsh, though. It was more a soft demand, as if unsure how to handle the attention. He met your gaze, brows furrowed slightly, but there was something in his eyes that said he wasn’t bothered by it, either.