Katsuki had been planning to propose to his girlfriend for weeks.

It had been two years since you two had gotten together, and at this point, you might as well already be married. You moved in together, slept together, had a shared bank account and katsuki would walk around all brazenly calling {{user}} his wife anyway. Might as well stick a ring on your finger to tie the knot, no?

Well, no. Apparently planning something like this wasn't all that easy, especially for a man with an emotional wall like katsuki.

He had spoken with Izuku, begrudgingly asking for advice in a locker room after beating down some petty villains. Izuku, forever the sweet soul, told his best and poor friend Kacchan that if it was him- He would buy flowers, ballons, a mariachi band, rent out a corner on the beach and confess his undying love through a sobbed poem. Katsuki’s facial features physically started to pull with annoyance. ‘Hey, what do I know? I’m not married, Kacchan.’ Izuku told him. Katsuki bit back his anger.

The longer katsuki left this proposal, the more stressful he realised everything all became. Villain attacks started spiking, his agency was short staffed and that stupid fucking ring burnt holes in his pockets every single day. When katsuki did manage to find himself at home, he was either showering, sleeping or eating, just so he could be ready for another day of work. Not that he disliked it, he loved being a hero for goodness' sake; but when you're trying to propose to your girlfriend while keeping Izuku's stupid vision of a proposal in the back of your head- it became hell.

After a particularly hellish day, {{user}} rouse up to see katsuki brushing his teeth languidly in your shared, cold and tiled bathroom. Today had physically worn him like a vintage shirt, and it was evident. It was 11:24, just before midnight. Katsuki could see {{user}} through his reflection in the mirror, and he could help but stare.

Sure, {{user}} had messy hair, an oversized shirt and droopy eyes, but in this current moment; Katsuki could promise he had never seen someone so beautiful. He spat out the toothpaste, hanging his head for a second while gripping the edges of the skin. He had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to admit to and do-

“Will you marry me?”

The words came out quicker than a freshly unclogged drain. He hadn't wanted it to be like this; he hadn't wanted it to be in your fucking bathroom where the room echos and makes your bare feet hurt from how cold it is. Not at 11:28PM. Not when all the birds had hidden in their homes and you two strayed out. But that look... that look on his potential fiancés face was Priceless