pop rocks, sour-core candies. I
Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader
Tags: Slow Build, No Smut, Reader-Insert Creeping the Living Shit out of Bakugo, Quirkless Reader-Insert, Sickly Reader-Insert, Reader-Insert Weaponizing Her Unassuming Appearance, Eventual Romance
Summary: With such a frail yet unbreakable practiced smile, you made it your little hobby to terrorize the boy who once terrified you.
You have always been afraid of Bakugo.
Ever since you were little children, you have always been intimidated with the way he carried himself. For a young boy such as him, he had an oozing arrogance like no other, and it was all because of his quirk and seemingly great talent when it comes to mastering it. Explosion, as what was stated in his student information—even a small spark was enough to create large detonation. Certainly, his quirk that time was nothing too grand, but it was more than enough to spook your sickly, six-year-old self.
It caused you to avoid him and his pals. After all, "They were bad news," as your grandmother would told you.
In fear of getting picked on for your physical incapabilities, you never played or tried talking to them. It never affected your experience, since you have always spent most of your time playing with toys alone inside the comfort of your home to begin with. At your daycare, you never hung out with him either. While he was busy showing off his powers to the ever-so-gullible caretakers, you let time pass reading picture books at the nap corner. You imagined the glorious world of fiction as the teachers spout repetitive praises that definitely inflated the boy's ego.
You were in your own separate dimension and never paid him mind—not that he ever noticed your presence, though. The two of you were just so parallel from each other—existing in the same space but never met and never will.
It was you becoming a primary student when you have finally and unfortunately caught his eye.
Due to your age, you were slightly but notably taller than your peers. It caused you to stick out like a sore thumb amongst your classmates and schoolmates, and it did not help that the teachers loved complimenting you for your seemingly intelligent self—never once have you considered yourself as anywhere near being smart. Your interests, apparently, were so cool that a green-haired boy—Midoriya—started sticking closer to you.
You never disliked Midoriya's company, really. It was what follows that you hated—no. It was what follows that you feared: with the younger male's attention on you, promptly comes the blonde's.
You learned rather quickly that whenever Midoriya was within your proximity, Bakugo would bully him significantly worse. Threats become promises, little sparks become dangerous ignition, words become shouts, and sniffles become crying. What was worse was whenever he was picking on the green-haired boy, you get caught in it as well. He would hurt you and pretend that it was just for games. When you stumble and tear up, he would laugh at your inability to fight back.
You tried to convince yourself that you would be fine and that it would be over soon. Boys like to play rough, right? At least that was what your teach used to tell you. Even when your skin was accidentally burned by his oh-so-brilliant abilities, you were supposed to let it happen because that was natural, right? You were older than him, too, so you should keep it in.
However, you were never good at keeping things in.
Crying and wailing against your grandfather's arms, you told them everything. You screeched so loudly—louder than the sobs that you have made before. You thrashed against the hold of your guardian, demanding that they take your pain away immediately. The elders dealt with the situation accordingly, and it was decided that the Bakugo's would be the one responsible for paying the hospital fees.
You healed properly, and you received no scar, but what had already happened never left your mind. The moment you were discharged from the hospital, you had your granparents make a request for you to be placed in a different class to the principal. A school transfer was more preferable, but it was not practical, so you had no choice but to stay.
Whenever Bakugo was approaching, you would walk the other way. Whenever Midoriya was trying to strike up a conversation with you, you would act as though you did not see him and leave before he could even say another word. Whenever Bakugo would hurt him at a hidden corner of the school, you would avert your eyes and search for a friend to occupy your attention lest the two boys glance at where you stood.
Your life has not been long, and the years you have lived were short. Yet, even then, there have been many things that you learned in that experience. One thing that etched itself into your mind, never to be forgotten, was that you were a coward. At such a young age, you attained the greatest realization that you...you...were never a brave child.
Because of the actions you have done to avoid the green-haired boy, you have saved your skin from another steering. Bakugo never approached you anymore, and you were more than relieved. Sure, he was still mistreating the other boy, but it was not like it was your business anymore.
You were just a kid, were you not? What could you have done? Play hero? Even the adults never stepped up, so why should you? Why must you risk yourself getting hurt again for another? A quirkless girl like you, who could not do anything for herself, could never do something for someone else.
After the messy predicament you went through briefly, the days then went on until it turned into weeks into months into years, and before you knew it, you have finished your primary and then middle school.
You were certain that he has forgotten about you already, and how could he not? A brat older than him throwing a tantrum after a little boo-boo—the most you would be to him was a nuisance.
You were irrelevant to him and will always be as such, and that fact has never failed to make you feel a bit safe even when he passed through you at the corridors of the middle school that he attended with you. It helped that the thought of him not knowing who you were anymore has persisted even now that you have turned a high-schooler under Yuei's General Course.
You were nothing but a forgettable extra in a play called, "His Life," but, unfortunately for him, you had no plans in remaining that way.
It has been a few days since All Might retired from being Japan's Number One Professional Hero.
Your school has sent you electronic mails stating that every single student of the hero academy was required to live in dormitories and refusal would be expulsion—well, the words they used were a lot more formal and almost highfalutin, but the meaning was the same: either undergo their abrupt all-boarding school system or transfer to a different institution.
This happened all because of the incident with the hero course, and the principal did not even disclose all the necessary information about it. Secrecy cloaked by the concept of confidentiality, only certain members of the faculty seemed to have an idea—or know everything completely—about what was happening behind the gates of the school you were studying in.
"The abduction of the golden boy of Aldera J-H-S," you whispered in a sing-song tone.
Covering your body with your sea-bunny-patterned umbrella, you strolled along the inner street of your neighborhood with a basket of freshly picked fruits from your grandmother's garden.
It was a bummer that he seemed to reject the idea of being a villain, but it was more of a disappointment for you that he was rescued, unscathed at that, too.
From a distance, you saw a familiar man, who you identified as Teacher Aizawa of the Heroics Course, enter a black car.
"There is no one else who's more in pursuit of becoming the 'Top Hero' than him," you mimicked the black-haired teacher. "If the villains perceived that as a weakness to exploit, then I would say that they are being foolish."
After a few moments, you saw Sir All Might following him inside.
You stopped and waited for them to drive away. You occupied your mind with thoughts of how the leaves of a nearby bush formed and how its flowers smelled. You ended up standing idly under the warm sun, only realizing that you have been unmoving for long when you felt a bead of sweat forming along your nape. Only then have you decided it was the right time to proceed with your lackluster adventure.
Humming a tune and pushing needless thoughts aside, you pressed the doorbell of your fellow area resident.
"Coming!" the woman inside said. "Did something come up sirs—"
She opened the door—she was soon caught off guard upon seeing your form standing in front of her.
"[Name]?" she gasped, flabbergasted. "What brings you here, dear?"
You lowered your head, not commenting on her astonishment.
"Ah, Missus Bakugo," you greeted, smiling. "My grandmother wanted to check up on your son, so she asked me to send her regards."
"How kind of her—and you! How kind of you," she stuttered. "Come in, come in."
You closed your umbrella and laid it against the wall. Removing your shoes by the front door and wearing the indoor slippers she has lent you, you let your eyes travel around the interior of the Bakugo residence.
Even from the view outside, it was evident that their house was much larger than what you shared with your paternal grandparents, and inside was only more extravagant. Their furniture and appliances were far more advanced than yours, and their decorations screamed luxury. There were no speck of dust to be noted, and the scent of honey-lemon air-freshener wafted in the air. In comparison to your living space with your guardians, this place indeed was the embodiment of beauty, cleanliness, and style—and wealth managed properly, honestly.
For some reason, however, their house was just as homely as yours so much that it felt like you never left your living room to begin with.
"Would ya like any beverage?" she asked, a little skittish—uncharacteristically so. "We have juice, tea, coffee, and water."
"Who's there?" the man of the household asked from somewhere.
You heard the tap being turned off—he was done washing the dishes.
"[Name]?" His head popped up from the kitchen door. "Oh, good afternoon, young lady."
"Good day to you, too, Mister Bakugo."
She put the basket on the coffee table, letting you get comfortable on her couch while she went to the kitchen.
"Snacks?" she inquired loudly.
When she returned, she was carrying a plate of cookies, two glass cups, and a pitcher of cool water, which were all on top of a tray. Putting the tray on the table and arranging its contents, her eyes asked you why you, specifically, were the one to bring her the fruits instead of your grandmother. Although she and your guardian were not in the best terms ever since the incident, seeing you was undoubtedly odder.
She took one of the cookies and bit it, nibbling on the treat with a tense expression written all over her youthful face. She heaved a deep breath of sadness—a sigh, and closed her eyes.
"I, uh, we never had the opportunity to apologize to you."
You need not ask her what she was referring to; after all, you have never, even once, has forgotten about it yourself.
"You shouldn't apologize for something that you didn't do." You offered her a wider, sweeter smile. "I don't remember any of it anyway."
"Does he still talk to you?" her husband carefully asked as he sat down beside her.
"Not anymore," you answered, earning an emotion you could not pinpoint whether it was of relief or disappointment. "Maybe he forgot about it, or maybe he still feels guilty."
It was not guilt. You were well aware that, in fact, it was not guilt.
It was actually because you were not worth his time. His bullying of you was not done out of personal vendetta like how things were with Midoriya. Rather, it was out of convenience. You were there, so you were targeted; once you got away, you no longer were.
"Take some." She gestured at the plate. "And you can just call me Auntie Mitsuki and him Uncle Masaru. Missus and Mister are rather..."
You exhaled in amusement and said, "Then, Auntie Mitsuki, how was he?"
"He's alright." She took the pitcher and poured you and herself a glassful of water each. "That rascal wouldn't be affected so easily by something like that."
Although the woman's words sounded proud and somewhat arrogant, the way her thumb played with the rim of her glass cup told you how afraid she still was being after the incident, which was a given.
The solace was quickly broken the moment a familiar voice exclaimed, "Old hag!"
For a second, your heart has skipped a beat and you flinched on your seat. She did not appear to see that due to her head already tilted to the back, gazing at the direction where the loud call came from.
"Katsuki!" she shouted back. "We have another visitor! You better shut up!"
A series of stomps marched down from upstairs, until the steps revealed a fuming blonde boy with a frown so prominent it was comical. Dressed in casual clothes and a pair of dark magenta indoor slippers, he looked different to the Bakugo that you studied school with for several years now.
He stiffened the moment he saw you, petrified at the unexpected sight of yours in his living room having a conversation with his parents. How he returned your gaze proved your belief wrong—it appeared that he could still remember you but simply chose not to acknowledge you in school.
"As you can see," she huffed. "The brat's still alive and well."
At the first few minutes, he remained frozen in his tracks, and it made your stomach twist and turn—but not negatively. It was a strange sensation to say the least.
"Your son's very energetic, isn't he?" you commented lightheartedly, contradicting the intensity of your piercing irises. "How very passionate."
"I'm sorry for his behavior," she apologized.
Katsuki trudged toward the couch and then plopped on it, settling in between his parents and sitting across from you.
"The hell are you doing here?" he demanded.
"Gram told me to give you these, since they're fresh from her garden," you replied, the stretch of your lips never wavering. "She wanted to give them personally but her joints were aching, so I decided to just bring these here myself."
"Fruits?" He grabbed an apple from the basket, its redness similar to their eyes. "Do I look like a fucking goa—"
A swift hand has made contact to his head, effectively silencing him before he could finish his likely offensive comment about your guardian's choices.
"Why'd ya hit me in the head, you shitty woman?!"
She stared at you like she was afraid of the possibility of offending you, especially when you just reconciled not even an hour ago.
"Thank you for the gift, [Name]," his father said.
"Yes, yes," she agreed. "It's a fine gift."
You heard him click his tongue before sinking his teeth into the juicy flesh of the red fruit. He momentarily averted his gaze from yours before looking back at you with contempt. Watching him like a kid playing with a ferocious bug, you realized that with his minions nowhere to be found and him being entirely alone, he looked so...bothered by your presence. As you scrutinized his guardedness, your initial fear of him morphed into something else that you could not reduce into a single word. Nothing would ever summarize whatever it was that was happening inside you.
So, this is how it feels to terrorize someone's peace.
You loved seeing him like that.
You loved seeing him in utter discomfort just by the sight of you. You loved the fact that he could not do anything with his parents being around. You loved that all he could do was grumble. You loved that in his parents eyes, you must have been someone akin to an angel—kind, forgiving, patient, harmless. You loved that he could only glare at you with anxious eyes, waiting for you to spill the secrets only those who were a part of his past school knew. You loved that he was so nervous while his palms were probably sweating.
It was a lovely view, and would love—need—to see him like that again.
"I'll be going now, Auntie, Uncle." You gradually rose. "Gram's the only one home right now."
"Yup! My grandfather's gone for some field-related stuff, methinks," you mused loudly.
"You should come here again, little lady," the man offered.
You grinned, your eyes never leaving his.
"Oh, why—the dorms!" he recalled.
Beaming, you suggested, "Well, I'm sure that Yuei will sort things out as soon as possible. When that time comes, I'll pay you a visit."
You bowed, the air of politeness never leaving your body.
"You know what?" the missus interjected. "Katsuki, walk her home."
"She has her damn legs. She can do—"
His mother's eyes narrowed in a manner that told him he needed to comply now.
Grunting, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and followed you.
Holding your umbrella by the shaft, you twirled it as you walked ahead.
"Hey!" the boy gruffly called.
After scrambling to wear his outside footwear, he slammed the door shut.
He shouted, "What d'ya think you're doing?!"
As though you could not hear him, you ambled carefreely with your hand swaying with every step you took.
"You sniveling cunt, what's that for?"
Turning on your heel, you stepped twice toward his direction. Twice, too, he backed away.
"What 'that' are you pertaining to?"
"Actin' all oblivious and shit—you're ignoring me for years, then you're chummy now?"
Since when have you been ignoring him?
You could not remember at least one time that you have ignored him, let alone for years.
"Ignoring you?" you asked, sincerely puzzled. "I wasn't ignoring you."
You spent a good minute to process how your behavior has been over the course of many years.
"Oh! What I was doing was avoiding you, not ignoring you." You made a peace sign with your hand. "Two entirely different things."
"I don't gi—" he inhaled deeply. "Answer the question, dammit."
"I don't have anything to say, you see." You shrugged. "I just delivered some fruits as an errand, and that's it."
"I'm not talking about the fruits, dimwit."
"I don't know why you're so bothered by my display. I'm always this friendly."
You have always been friendly. You might not have been friendly to him or to his goon, but you were a friendly kid nevertheless.
"I am!" you insisted. "But I guess you wouldn't know what being friendly means."
You pivoted and left him. When he tailed behind you for the second time, you smiled—genuinely this time.
"I watched the broadcast after you've been kidnapped. Even the press-con your homeroom teacher held," you confessed. "Many times."
Seeing him being unaffected has almost brought a frown to your face. However, even when you were wasting your time viewing the news after years of not watching the television, your bright expression never faltered.
As you ran your mouth about the details of the news he was apparently unaware of, he watched you beside closely.
Your disposition, despite being jovial, screamed of danger, and it was pissing him off to no end. A quirkless girl causing the hairs at the back of his neck stand up and his throat dry should not be possible, but here you were. Although your defenses had so many gap you were basically open, he found it hard to be in your vicinity. He could not fathom as to why he was intimidated by you, yet he was.
"I actually hoped that you'd be at least shaken up after that, but—alas—you were fine," you sulked. "You even had all of your limbs still."
For fuck's sake—you were creeping him out.
With his senses heightened, he asked, "What kinda crazy bitch are you?"
Tilting your head to him, you let your eyes land on his own, scrutinizing the redness around his lids that was barely concealed by thick lashes.
"What are you up to, huh?"
The small pebbles crunched under the soles of your shoes, and you could hear the rustling of the trees as the warm afternoon breeze pass by above you. You noticed how his throat bobbed up and down, how his irises darted from your face to your hands to your lips, how his lips pursed, and how his nose scrunched in vexation.
Without a warning, you broke into a fit of laughter.
Glee painted your face, while you struggled to balance your footing. Your hand went slack, and your umbrella fell onto the dusty, concrete road.
Perhaps it was his hero training acting up, but his hands involuntarily shoot up to grab you before you could stumble.
"You should've seen you face," you stated as you chuckled.
You started wheezing for air, but you did not stop with your little giggles. You gazed at him with your eyes gleaming with mischief, while he looked at you with terror and confusion.
"Did you," you stammered, "did you really think I have some special plans to make your life miserable? I'm not that bored, you know?"
Whether it was embarrassment or something else, he roughly let go of you as soon as your words reached his ears.
"You're really funny," you poked fun of him some more. "Do you know that?"
You rubbed your chest with the heel of your palm and looked up at the sky. Letting out a breath of slight pain, you picked up your umbrella.
"Where have you been?" you heard someone ask.
The two of you searched for the voice, and when you saw who it was, your smile only grew.
"Gram!" you said sickeningly sweet. "Just somewhere."
She approached you, walking with such a perfect poise and knees evidently being far from aching as you so-claimed earlier.
"Bye-bye." You held your umbrella in between your neck and shoulder and waved with both your hands. "See you at Yuei!"
Your grandmother swiped your umbrella to see who it was you were waving at.
"Who's with—" your grandmother paused. "Why is that kid with you?"
She stared at him with disapproving eyes as she ushered you.
"Something came up, so he offered to walk me home."
Without even giving him thanks, your grandmother practically dragged you to what he assumed was the way to your house.
"What?" he said under his breath.
What was up with that hostility? Have you not said that the fruits were from you grandmother?
"Have you seen the fruit basket?" he heard the old woman inquire. "I've been looking for it."
"Oh! I used it in our project. I'll just replace it, Gram."
As you paid him one last glance, Bakugo saw your eyes squinting halfway and your lips stretching unnervingly, revealing your teeth.
Author's note: This was a fic I posted on Tumblr's web-wife (AO3) last year and deleted, because I got bored.
