"I used to chase butterflies as a kid, never thought you'd give them to me for free"
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff
You used to chase butterflies as a kid.
Not metaphorically, not in some poetic exaggerated way, but literally, like running barefoot across uneven grass, arms outstretched, laughing breathlessly as you tried to catch something soft and fleeting, something that always seemed just out of reach no matter how fast you ran or how carefully you crept up behind it. You never caught one, not really, just brushed the edges of wings once or twice before they slipped away again, light and untouchable, leaving you with nothing but the feeling of almost.
You hadn’t thought about that in years.
And then somehow—somehow—that was exactly what it felt like now.
Because the first time you realized your chest felt tight, strange and fluttering and annoyingly persistent, was the first time Katsuki Bakugo snapped at someone across the training field, voice sharp and cutting, temper flaring like it always did, loud enough to turn heads and draw attention in that way only he could manage.
Everyone else had flinched.
You just stood there, watching him, something unfamiliar settling in your chest, something that didn’t feel like fear or irritation or even annoyance, but something lighter, restless, like wings brushing against your ribs from the inside. Butterflies.
You were, by all reasonable standards, completely aware that Bakugo was difficult, and loud, and aggressive, stubborn to a fault, the kind of person most people learned to avoid rather than approach, but somehow that didn’t stop you.
If anything, it made it worse.
You liked the way he spoke like everything mattered. You liked the way he never held back, never softened himself for anyone, never pretended to be anything less than exactly what he was. You liked the sharp edges, the intensity, the way he carried himself like the world had something to prove to him.
Which was, admittedly, a problem.
Because crushing on Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t just inconvenient—it was borderline humiliating.
Because of course, out of everyone in the dorm, it had to be him you ran into when you stepped outside for air, the night quiet and cool, the faint hum of the city in the distance while the rest of the building settled into that late-hour calm where most people had already gone to bed.
Bakugo was leaning against the railing, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere far off like he was thinking about something or maybe nothing at all.
You hesitated for half a second.
“You’re gonna catch a cold out here,” you said lightly, stopping beside him.
He didn’t even look at you.
You leaned your elbows against the railing too, staring out into the dark, letting the silence sit for a moment longer than necessary, it wasn’t awkward, it was just… quiet.
Comfortable, in its own strange way.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye.
God, you were so annoying.
“I used to chase butterflies as a kid,” you said suddenly.
Bakugo didn’t react immediately.
Just blinked once, slow, like he was processing whether he actually heard that right.
“Never thought you’d give them to me for free.”
“What the hell does that even mean.”
You smiled slightly to yourself, resting your chin against your hand.
“That’s not ‘nothing,’” he said, finally turning his head toward you, brows drawn together in that familiar annoyed expression. “You just said it like it means something.”
You could feel it. The weight of it.
“…You’re messing with me.”
He turned back to the railing, but you caught the way his shoulders shifted slightly, like he wasn’t entirely dismissing it, like it stuck just enough to bother him.
You let the silence settle again, the night air brushing softly against your skin, and for a moment you thought maybe that was it, that you’d said your weird little line, he’d brushed it off like always, and things would go back to normal.
Crushing on someone like Bakugo wasn’t something you built expectations around, it was something you kept to yourself, something you let exist without needing it to turn into anything more.
“That thing,” he muttered, not looking at you this time. “About butterflies or whatever.”
You turned your head, studying him for a second, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips.
“You want me to say it again?”
“I didn’t say I want you to,” he snapped quickly. “I said say it again.”
You hummed softly, pretending to think about it.
“I used to chase butterflies as a kid,” you repeated, a little slower this time, a little more deliberate. “Never thought you’d give them to me for free.”
Bakugo clicked his tongue under his breath, like the words annoyed him—but he didn’t interrupt this time.
Didn’t dismiss it right away either.
“…So what,” he said after a second, glancing at you again. “You’re saying I make you nervous or something?”
Because suddenly it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.
“They’re… good butterflies,” you said quietly. “Not the bad kind.”
Not in a way anyone else would notice.
Because you were looking at him.
And for a second, just a second, he didn’t have a comeback ready.
He looked away, jaw tightening slightly like he didn’t know what to do with that.
He shifted slightly against the railing, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in a small, almost unconscious movement.
“…You say that every time you see me or what?”
“Only when it feels like that.”
“…And it feels like that a lot?”
You didn’t answer right away.
Just looked at him, the corner of your mouth lifting a little.
Bakugo huffed under his breath, shaking his head slightly like you were hopeless.
Didn’t even look as annoyed as he usually did.
If anything, he stayed right there beside you a little longer than he needed to.
And when you glanced at him again, just to check—He was already looking at you.
And somehow, that was enough.
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