ᯓ★ Bakugou x fem!reader
ᯓ★ wc: 3.8k
ᯓ★ warnings : cussing, threats, violence, angst - a little bit of fluff :3
•◦❥◦• Summary! : Katsuki only expected the best from those damn support students. It was people like him that made him able to do what he does best, blast nobodies into hell! So of course when he goes to the support course building he goes to find the very best support student he can. All road lead to… you.
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Katsuki walks through the halls of the support building, scowling at every student he walks by. He would just send the broken gauntlets in like everyone else but he wanted to make sure they got fixed correctly. What better way to do so than by taking matters into his own hands? He sees a particular student standing alone, surprising since most students have already gone back to their dorms, he marches up to them and yells a little too loudly, “Which one of you damn extras is the best?” The student jumps and looks up at the much taller Hero Student, “Oh-! Uhm- That would— well— if you, uh, our class president is Ms.Y/N!” He manages to spit out.
Katsuki sighs, “Where would I find her?” He mutters already having wasted enough of his time talking to this dweeb. “Room J, sir— er—man..” Katsuki gives the student a weird look before going to find room J. Where supposedly the best of the Support Students would be. He could only hope you knew how to actually talk. He shoves his hands in his pockets, watching the classroom letters as he goes by each. Finally reaching J he almost kicks the door off its hinges. He would’ve hoped to grab the attention of this class president, but what he sees is a hunched over girl. Nose deep in a project, headphones on while she works, at least three cups of coffee on her desk. Not to mention the mess that your desk is. Paperwork left and right, tools, parts, etc. You must be working late. He watches for a moment, a little surprised you haven’t noticed the presence in the room yet.
He watches as you knock about five things off your desk while reaching for one. He’s almost positive you couldn’t be the class president. You must be just some random student, another extra in his way to finding the best one to fix his stuff. He huffs and walks over to your desk, standing there for a moment looking down at you. Your glasses are clearly too big for your face, your hair is a mess, your clothes covered in oil, dirt— is that ash? What was up with this chick? He watches you, you still don’t notice him! What kind of world were you living in?
He reaches out and puts a hand on your desk, leaning. That’s when you notice him, a couple inches too close, you let out a startled yelp and fall backward, bringing about ten things with you as you hit the ground. You quickly scramble to your feet, tearing off your headphones, “What the hell are you doing in here?” You say defensively. He almost laughs at your irritated face but he still has to complete his objective.
He takes off his backpack and pulls out his fried gauntlets, “Need these fixed.” He says, if you judged this interaction based on his face alone you’d think this was a normal conversation, that he didn’t just invade someone’s workspace. “Did you turn in your forms?” You ask fixing your glasses, about to reach for them but he pulls them out of your reach.
“Of course I did, I’m looking for the class president, Y/N?” He says with a no nonsense tone. You look confused for a second before scoffing and crossing your arms, “I’m the class president.” You say, getting thrown into a glaring match with the Hero student.
“You sure about that?” He scowls at you. “From what I’ve seen it looks like you're nothing more than a clumsy extra who is wasting my time.” He steps closer, his glare getting fiercer.
“You sure you’re in the hero course? Cuz all I can see is a wannabe tough guy who breaks his tools like someone didn’t spend hours making that shit for him.” He’s surprised you don’t back down, he feels a tick of anger in him.
His hands start sparking, making small pops, “You wanna take this outside? I’ll blast you to hell!!” He yells, now you’re both really in each other's faces.
“Shouldn’t a hero have more composure than this? You really should work on that temper of yours.” You grin knowing you’re getting under his skin. Your faces are inches apart.
“Shouldn’t a class president have more competency than this?” You roll your eyes, "That's the best you can do? When you can come up with a—“
There’s a loud bang in the other room and another student comes running in, you both immediately back up from each other, realizing how this might look to someone else. The student is panting and covered in some mysterious liquid, “Y/N! We need your help!” You scoff and take off running after the student, yelling back at Katsuki, “Throw your shit on the desk, I’ll get to it when I can!” You’re almost out of the room when you hear him yell back.
“Don’t tell me what to do, you damn extra!!” You just huff, you had bigger concerns.
He watches you leave, you get on his nerves. And he only talked to you for a couple minutes and he felt his heart beating faster out of anger. He hates being told what to do, but he needs these fixed so he drops them on your desk before shoving his hands in his pockets again and stomping out of the support building. He hated you already. Damn nerd.
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Not even a couple days later as he’s coming back from all his classes, tired, he wants to shower and eat and go to sleep. But as he walks into his dorms and up to his room, ignoring the extras who followed him around, he sees a box outside his door. A simple plain white box but it’s tied with a pink ribbon. He already feels his blood boil, who the fuck left this?
He opens the box expecting some sort of prank from shitty hair or that other idiot, but finds brand new gauntlets. They look slightly different, and feel heavier. As he takes them out of the box he sees a handwritten note at the bottom;
Since your stupid ass can’t keep a lid on how powerful your explosions are, I made the material around your equipment more durable to put up with it better. They’ll be slighter heavier, if there’s a problem, get stronger. xoxo - The CLASS PRESIDENT.
He clenches his jaw and makes a small ‘tsk’ sound before going into his room. He’d try those out tomorrow, hopefully that damn geek didn’t ruin his tools. He huffs and plops down on his bed, his forearm over his eyes. He thinks back to when he met you, how you didn’t back down from his gaze. How, in fact, you got closer. Challenging him right back. How when he threatened you, you didn’t seem to have an ounce of fear in you. He hated you. He’s still holding the note in his hands. He hated you.
The next day he’s testing out his brand new equipment in hero training. Against Sato, a good opponent but nothing like what he wanted to test them out on - someone like Kirishima. But Katsuki got what he got, and when he ripped an explosion on Sato he felt his own arm knock back. What power! He hadn’t felt like his power was too much for him since kindergarten! He grins manically and goes wild.
Of course Katsuki won the training session, even without the gauntlets he could do that. But he had to know, he had to ask, what did you do? His old ones weren’t nearly as powerful.
So after the day ends he marches into the Support course building, yet again, but this time not stopping until he got to room J. He barges in again, but this time you’re not with your back toward the door. But rather standing up examining forms, and this time you notice him immediately. A scowl immediately forming on your face as you fix your glasses, “What do you want?” You say leaning against the table you were standing at.
He just huffs, folding his arms over his chest, “What did you do… to make them stronger?” He mutters.
“Excuse me?” You say.
“What did you do to make the gauntlets stronger?” He puts more emphasis onto each syllable, like you were stupid.
“What are you stupid? Can’t read? I told you in the note, I changed out the material.” You say.
“I read the damn note!” He yells, “But you did something else, what?” He says.
You sigh, “Goodness gracious, you can’t have any whimsy or unknown in your life?” You pause, seeing his determined face, why did he want to know so bad? “I put gunpowder around the openings, so when your explosions went off it would go twice. I honestly didn’t think it would work.” You fix your glasses yet again, “I’m glad it did though. Can you tell me what happened?” You grab an empty notepad, and gesture to a chair, he stays standing. Staring.
He explains it in the most minimal detail he can. You write it down as he talks and don’t bother looking up at him, you can feel his glaring eyes on you. Once he’s done you look back up, “Done?”
He nods.
“Good. You can leave then, thanks for the intel.” You say tearing off the paper on the notepad, turning your back to him as you walk to your work desk. You look at him over your shoulder, he’s not leaving. You sigh and face him again, “Yes?”
He glares at you, “What?”
“What yourself. Can’t hear? Get lost.” You say a little harsher than you mean to, but oh well.
He stares at you for a second before looking away, “If I have something that needs to get fixed… Can I keep bringing it to you?” He says, his tone a little softer. Just a little.
You realize he’s genuinely asking, probably something that doesn’t happen very often. You decide to tease him a little, “Oh? Me? Moi? You want this.. hm.. what did you call me?” You put a finger on your lips, fake thinking, “Clumsy extra to work on your precious equipment?” He scowls.
“You know what? Never mind—“
You laugh, “No, no, wait. Sorry.” You walk over to him. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” You hold your hand out, “I’d be happy to work on your things for you.” He stares at your hand, as he reaches for it you pull away a little. Just like he did when you reached for his gauntlets. “On one condition.”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Spit it out.”
You grin, “Stop barging into my workspace. It ruins the entire vibe.” He can’t tell if you’re kidding or not. But he just nods, you extend your hand again. This time not pulling away as he shakes it.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“Shut it.” He mutters, letting go of your hand. A wave of silence falls over the two of you. He clenches his jaw.
“I’ve got work to do.” You break the silence, “See you around.” You turn away and sit at your desk. He takes that as his cue to leave.
As he walks back to his dorms he can’t help but think about the interaction. You agreed, which was good. At least he knows he has someone to blame when his equipment fails. If. If it fails. He was only a little glad that you weren’t gonna be so abrasive anymore. He’d try. A bit. Not a lot. He still hates you. He can’t stand the way you don’t back down, but you did him a solid. He still hates you.
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Over the next couple months he breaks numerous equipment, bringing them straight to you every time. But now he at least knocks, however his attitude and explosive tendencies are still loud and proud, you didn’t care all too much. You were able to handle him juuuust fine. He’s even taken to watching you work every now and again. Just to “Make sure you do it right.” was his explanation or “Those damn extras are annoying me”. At first it ticked you off how he hovered, watching you, but he did it again. And again. And again. Then it wasn’t so irritating. It just came with the job. Now everytime he broke something and brought it to you he’d hang around, even if it wasn’t his things you were working on that day.
One evening as he was just lounging about in your workshop, he all of a sudden talks, “I’m going to the stupid training camp.” You spin on your office chair and look at him.
“Yeah? Let me guess, you’re overjoyed.” You say teasingly with a smile. He just scoffs.
“It’s a waste of time.” He leans his head back, “I’m gonna be stuck for a week with those damn extras.” You just let out a small laugh, and turn back to your project.
“Try not to break my stuff, yeah?” You say as you resume working. He lets out a small tsk.
After a wave of silence he speaks again, “I leave next Wednesday.” His voice is softer and you can feel his eyes on the back of your head.
Another wave of silence, “You seem a little concerned.” You say.
“What the hell does that mean?! I’m not worried about shit!” He yells pointing at you.
You whip around and face him, “Then why’re you acting like a kicked puppy telling me this shit?!” You yell right back pointing at him with your screwdriver
“I’m not! Why’re you acting like you don’t give a damn?!” You both are practically screaming bow
“Why would I?! You’re going on a vacation you ungrateful brat!”
“It’s not vacation, I’m gonna be training! TRAIN-ING!! It’s a TRAINING CAMP!”
“Whatever! With my equipment it’ll practically be a vacation!!”
“You cocky extra I’ll blow you to hell!” He stands up but you stay sat.
“I’d like to see you try you wannabe hero!” You look up at him as he gets closer, you both glare at each other. Neither one of you backing down, he’s come to grow fond of it. He still hates your guts though.
After a pretty mean looking glaring match he scoffs, “You’re not worth my time.” He grabs his backpack, “See you later, loser.”
“See you, poser.” You give a lazy wave before turning back to your project. He stops in the doorway looking back at you. His eyes trace your form. He swallows and leaves the room. He’s leaving next week, no point in starting something now. He’ll be back, he forces himself to not dwell on it.
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Every day during the training camp he thought of you, he wondered if you were working, if you were thinking of him, he wondered how many cups of coffee you had drank that day. Until that fateful night… when the League of Villains came. The claws of evil and destiny wound itself around his throat and dragged him toward danger. With no light where the strange portal type quirk villain brought him. Where he would be chained and confined. Despite his fear, he got angry. His glare now turned toward actual villains.
His hands that were weapons in and of themselves were restrained and he had no choice but to stay put and refuse the League over and over again. He refused to show even an ounce of weakness when they threatened him.
Then the fight burst through the walls, literally. Katsuki saw his hero, the one he looked up to. Defending him. What followed reeked of havoc and chaos. Having to be saved by his own damn classmates, by those extras because he was weak. Then All Might loses his powers, his strength in the fight against All for One. He had no time to grieve, no time for his emotions. He had to remain strong.
As he watched Deku, that stupid nerd, get chosen over and over again but the one Katsuki admires most. Having to watch the one he admires most get stripped of his powers because of him. Because he couldn’t be strong when it mattered most. When he got back to UA, the guilt began consuming him. More and more. Until he picked that fight with Deku. More out of anger than guilt. Wanting to prove himself. To anyone, even that damn nerd.
Hating how Deku had gotten stronger, how All Might had to be called upon yet again to help. How he now has to face All Might when it was his fault that his powers got ruined. It was too much, entirely too much. Then the anger boiled down, all that was left was guilt. Was jealousy. The violence melted away and he needed to get some air. He needed to fix this.
And you did say he could come to you when he needed something fixed.
He stands outside Room J, unsure if you’re even in there. If you were… would you let him in? Tears are already welling up in his eyes. He hated how helpless he felt as he lifted his fist to knock. Once, twice. A silence washes over the hallway. Then the door opens, your eyes widen… you fix your glasses, your expression one of worry.
“Katsuki? Oh, I heard what happened, are you okay? Are you hurt?” You say and he can’t stand it anymore, he can’t believe he’s doing this but he practically collapses in your arms. You gasp softly as sobs begin to rack his body. He’s holding onto your shirt, his arms tight around you, his face on your shoulder leaking tears, sobs, a little bit of snot, but oh well.
You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms tightly around him, “What happened?” You whisper, he shakes his head no. You understand and nod softly. Your hand reaches up and gently touches his hair. He stays crying for a long time. Leaking all the sadness, the guilt, the jealousy, even the fear out into your shoulder.
Eventually he looks up, his face damp but not nearly as wet as your shoulder. His eyes are red and puffy but he just looks away. You fix your glasses. The moment is slightly awkward, for you. Not for him.
“Do you want to come in? I have warm tea.” You offer gently, taking his hand. He only nods and lets you lead him in. He’s been in this place a million times over the past months, but it has a different feel at night. You have a different feel at night. He allows himself to be led to the only other seat in the whole room, a small old couch that sits against the back wall. He’s sat here so many times.
He’s not even sure why he came to you, all you’ve ever done together is bicker. But he feels safe right now. He’s sure he’s made the right choice in coming to you, you haven’t made fun of him. You only opened your arms, opened your door to him, you’re even gonna let him drink your tea. He knows how territorial you are over your tea. He sits down and watches you walk away and grab your thermos. You come back and sit next to him, “Here.” You hand the tea over.
“Thank you.” His voice is dry and hoarse from crying so much, but he doesn’t care. He’s already been so vulnerable tonight. You nod.
A wave of silence comes over the two of you, but this time it’s not awkward. It’s not tense, it’s calm. He slowly sips the tea, letting the warmth cool him down even more. Letting each swallow wash away the night. Wash away the guilt. He feels better, that’s certain. He looks over at you, you look tired too. Always having the habit of working later than you should. He has the urge to touch you again, how warm your hug was, how comforting it was. He wants to touch you again. He slowly leans over, putting his head on your shoulder.
He feels the lump in his throat again but he swallows it down, he’s not even sure if he has more tears to cry. He’s not sure if you’ll do anything, or if you’ll just let him lean on you but you slowly begin to run your fingers through his hair. Grateful that you’re letting him stay, that you’ve let him suck the warmth from your body, he leans more on you. His face seeping into the crook of your neck, his arms slowly wrap around you bringing you closer. Hoping you don’t care, but you’ve always spoken your mind. If you didn’t like it he’s certain you would’ve said something. So he keeps going, until he’s practically laying on top of you.
It’s only then that the world starts to slow, that his eyelids get heavy, that he yawns and closes his eyes without evening meaning to. He falls asleep against you.
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When he wakes up, the window is filtering in sunlight through the curtains and he already knows he’s late. Still in just a black tank top and sweats he’ll be so late. But he looks down and sees you peacefully sleeping under him, he must’ve fallen asleep. He lays his head back down on your shoulder, he couldn’t care right now. He can miss a couple classes. He’s so comfortable here, you’re warm, much warmer than he imagined. Even now with your hair a mess and asleep, he can’t help the way his heart beats fast when he looks at you. The position you’re in almost making him wanna laugh, your back is against the couch arm and your neck has no support, it’s leaned all the way back, your lips are slightly parted, he rests between your legs, his head on your chest as you sleep.
He’s so comfortable here.
After a couple minutes the sunlight hits your face and you start to shift, he sighs softly and gets up. He gently moves you so your back is against the cushions and your neck is supported by the arm of the couch. Out of the sunlight, he stares for a second watching you peacefully sleep. It's probably the most sleep you’ve gotten in a while, always so consumed by your work.
And last night, how you didn’t even question what he was doing so late at your door. How you just opened your arms and let him in. How you let him soak your shirt and shoulder. He wonders if you’ll remember it when you wake up. With a hesitation, after a moment of thinking about it, he leans down, his rough hands move away the hair that’s fallen onto your forehead and presses his lips ever so gently to your skin. When he pulls away there’s a small twitch of his lips upward. He takes a deep breath, turning on his heels and leaving.
He’d see you again, probably within the day.
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a/n : WAPOW.
