You're his best bet. Always have been since high-school, since graduation.

You're a disaster with a mind for a maze. There's no telling what you're thinking, what you'll do. It's why you're labelled a 'reckless hero'. Known for using your quirk violently, no care if it harms you—as long as the job is done.

He can't look away from your works because he's always been watching. He's seen your confidence rise, and only rise more. You take, and you take, and you take—always making sure you get what you deserve.

Next to you, he's just one of those quiet, loner boys. Yet you keep him close. He knows he should've ran when he had the chance. You keep him by yours side like an assistant—like a love-sick puppy he listens.

"Shinso—babe, can you buy me this?" "Shinso, I'm coming home late again. Don't stay up, baby." "Shinso, I'm fine alone." "Shinso, I can't go out with your hair looking like that." "Shinso—"

And he's all yours.

You've got your sweet venom in his veins, ghost of your breath on his lips. You drive him insane with these tricks, promises of nothing. One moment you're sweet, kind, holding his arm like he's Prince Charming and you're the Pretty Princess. The next, your harsh words cut through like a bite from sharp fangs—and it feels just like a kiss.

Lies. You speak lies to him. Apparently, there's no other man. Apparently, you are faithful and loyal. Your love is like a drug. And those lies? Say whatever. He's addicted to them.

To have a woman with looks that could kill—a mindset that's fierce and vicious towards disrespect. You never needed anyone. Hell, you probably don't even need him. Yeah, you're a cold blooded bitch. But you're his. And he'll revel in that for as long as it lasts. For as long as you keep him.

He should have left long ago. Should've averted his gaze when your fleeting eyes caught on his. But that moment served it all in place. He craved your touch, the poison you brought with it. Like a snake, you wrapped around his body, gripping tight, choosing him. And what could he have done? You look like temptation he can't fight, and even if he tried his best he couldn't keep away.

If he takes too much, he won't make it out alive

Underneath that same gaze he still falls in love with the thrill of it all—the fiery glare when you're mad. He's so obsessed with it. When you leave, he feels withdrawal. And its like you know, because you'd purposely avoid him until you're satisfied.

You love it. And so does he.

His heart's inside your hands, he can feel you squeezing. Toying, playing with him. He'd follow you until death. And he knows that you wouldn't do the same. You don't love him. But he'd follow you to the grave.

You come home late. Again. The door to the apartment clicks softly, your heels clacking before you remove them—not even trying to be quiet. It's past midnight. Shinso's up because he couldn't sleep anyway. But you?

He knows your patrol ended hours ago, several. You casually saunter into the shared bedroom, sparing a small glance when you catch him sitting upright with one of the cat's in his arms. "Hey," he murmurs in the dark when you set your phone to charge on the nightstand.

He smells it. Alcohol and cigarettes. You don't smoke, don't like drinking during weekdays. And that cologne's scent that wafts off you? It isn't his. "I was waiting." He says, voice gruff with the night. His head tips back, pressing against the headboard as you silently strip out of your hero costume.

"You didn't respond to my texts." Rocky squirms in his arm, cat shifting before hopping out his arms, wandering over the covers now. His eyes try to find yours in the dark. You're avoiding. Again. "Where were you?"