Bakugou forgets his lunch, and his pregnant partner brings it to him
“…Shit.”
Kirishima laughed from across the room. “Dude, you okay?”
“Tch. Forgot my damn lunch,” Bakugou growled, arms crossed. He could already imagine you at home, probably resting like he told you to do. He pulled his phone out, ready to text you don’t worry about it, when the door of his office slid open.
And there you were.
Waddling. Clearly pregnant. Holding his lunch bag.
Bakugou’s brain completely short-circuited.
“…What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, already out of his seat, panic replacing irritation.
You smiled up at him, one hand on your lower back. “Hi, baby.”
“Why are you here?!” he hissed, hands hovering like he didn’t know whether to grab the bag or support you. “You’re supposed to be resting!”
You blinked at him, confused. “You forgot your lunch, so I brought it. I’m fine, Katsuki.”
He stared. “You walked all the way here?!”
“I waddled,” you corrected gently, amused. “Baby, I’m fine, it’s good exercise and I just couldn’t let you go hungry.”
Bakugou took the bag like it was fragile and then immediately put a hand on your arm.
“Thanks, babe, but I could’ve bought somethin’. You didn’t need to come all this way.”
Your expression fell just a little.
“…Oh.”
Uh-oh.
Bakugou saw your lips tremble, eyes getting glassy, and immediately panicked harder.
“You wouldn’t eat the food I made you,” you sniffed, hugging your belly.
“What—no!” he barked instantly. “Of course I would! The hell are you talkin’ about?”
You wiped at your eye, voice small. “You said you could’ve bought something.”
He froze, then groaned, rubbing his face. “That’s not—dammit, that’s not what I meant.”
You sniffed again. “I just wanted to take care of you.”
Bakugou dropped his voice, crouching a little so he was eye-level with you. “Hey. Hey. I love that you made this. I just didn’t want you pushin’ yourself.”
You looked up at him. “…You’re not mad?”
“No,” he said immediately. “I’m grateful. And worried. And I’m eatin’ every damn bite.”
Your face brightened instantly, like a switch flipped.
A smile bloomed. “You’re welcome.”
He huffed, pressing a kiss to your forehead despite being in the hallway. “You’re impossible.”
“You love me.”
“Tch. Yeah yeah .”
He walked you back toward the exit, one protective hand hovering near your back. “I’m callin’ a driver next time.”
You gasped. “Katsuki!”
“Not arguable.”
Later that evening, you were in the kitchen making yourself a snack something sweet and salty when the front door opened.
“I’m home,” Bakugou called.
Before you could answer, he was already behind you, arms carefully wrapping around your waist, lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.
“How was your day?” he asked, softer than he’d ever sound to anyone else.
You leaned into him. “Good. The baby was very active.”
“Tch. Figures,” he muttered fondly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Thanks again for the lunch. Best damn meal I’ve had all week.”
You smiled, warm and content. “You’re welcome.”
He squeezed you just a little. “Now sit down. I’ll finish that snack.”
“Bossy.”
“Protective,” he corrected.
And somehow, with him behind you and your baby safe between you, everything felt perfect.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED that Mitsuki drug him across the street to introduce the Bakugou family to yours.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED that your parents become close friends very quickly, meaning he'd be forced into having regular play dates with you.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED that your moms made the two of you match in coordinated first day of kindergarten outfits.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki HATED that you'd always sit next to him at lunch, yapping away with your annoying voice.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED the fact that you'd much rather play with izuku on the playground than him. Maybe because Deku didn't shove you into the dirt during tag?
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that stupidly adorable frowny face you'd made when you fell off of your bike - but found him so notso reluctantly offering you his sleeve to wipe your face with anyway. Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED the way his heart thumped when you laughed too hard at his unfunny jokes.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that other guys would start noticing you and approaching you, asking you to hang out.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that he suddenly cared about what you thought of his appearance.
High school
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that they'd placed you in a different class, meaning you'd be in different dorms, meaning he couldn't check up on you whoever he'd want.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how he'd always look for your face during passing period, and especially hated the way his face softened and his heart eased up whenever he found you.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how he'd die before letting any other guy walk you back to the dorms after training. Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how long it took for him to confess, he HATED how his palms got extra sweaty when he did.
Boyfriend
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how hard he'd fallen for you, like it wasn't something he could control. But he loved how natural it felt to have your hand in his.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED every time a villain would look your way when you were patrolling. Sure, he wasn't supposed to have personal motives during work, but he wasn't risking loosing you, so even given a bad look.. he'd make sure they regretted it.
Fiancé
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how nervous he was before proposing - like you'd say no. And he HATED how red he got when you cried saying yes.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how he cried when he saw you walking down the aisle Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED how he cried when you said your vows, and could barely get his own words out while saying his. Childhood best friend! Katsuki Who HATED the girly color choice you'd chosen for the wedding but went with it anyway since you looked so happy.
Dad
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how tiny your baby looked in his arms at first - afraid that the smallest movement of his big strong beefy arms would crush the poor guy if he wasn't careful.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how your son would insist on sleeping in bed with the two of you, directly in the middle, cuddling you. So much for having 3 more.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how life moved so fast. His little one was already starting kindergarten, Kirishimas daughter standing next to your son, who looked more than displeased, as you insisted on getting a picture of their coordinated first day of school outfits.
Childhood best friend! Katsuki Who's response is always
"Duh, she's my best friend." When his friends tease him about how they always knew the two of you would end up together.
Childhood best friend! Katsuki Who never really HATED anything you did. He was just too stubborn to use the word
LOVE.
HI this is an old fic of mine (originally posted on my main acc @ogwintersmind) and I’m just reuploading it here to see how it’ll do!
Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED that Mitsuki dragged him across the street to introduce the Bakugou family to yours.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED that your parents became close friends very quickly, meaning he’d be forced into having regular play dates with you.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED that your moms made the two of you match in coordinated first day of kindergarten outfits.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki HATED that you’d always sit next to him at lunch, yapping away with your annoying voice.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED the fact that you’d much rather play with izuku on the playground than him. Maybe because Deku didn’t shove you into the dirt during tag?
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that stupidly adorable frowny face you’d made when you fell off of your bike — but found himself notso reluctantly offering you his sleeve to wipe your face with anyway.
Middle school
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED the way his heart thumped when you laughed too hard at his unfunny jokes.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that other guys would start noticing you and approaching you, asking you to hang out.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that he suddenly cared about what you thought of his appearance.
High school
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that they’d placed you in a different class, meaning you’d be in different dorms, meaning he couldn’t check up on you whenever he wanted.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how he’d always look for your face during passing period, and especially hated the way his face softened and his heart eased up whenever he found you.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how he’d die before letting any other guy walk you back to the dorms after training.
College
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how long it took for him to confess, he HATED how his palms got extra sweaty when he did.
Boyfriend
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how hard he’d fallen for you, like it wasn’t something he could control. But he loved how natural it felt to have your hand in his.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED every time a villain would look your way when you were patrolling. Sure, he wasn’t supposed to have personal motives during work, but he wasn’t risking losing you, so even given a bad look.. he’d make sure they regretted it.
Fiancé
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how nervous he was before proposing — like you’d say no. And he HATED how red he got when you cried saying yes.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how he cried when he saw you walking down the aisle—Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED how he cried when you said your vows, and could barely get his own words out while saying his.
Husband
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED the girly color choice you’d chosen for the wedding but went with it anyway since you looked so happy.
Dad
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how tiny your baby looked in his arms at first — afraid that the smallest movement of his big strong beefy arms would crush the poor guy if he wasn’t careful.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how your son would insist on sleeping in bed with the two of you, directly in the middle, cuddling you. So much for having 3 more.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how life moved so fast. His little one was already starting kindergarten, Kirishima’s daughter standing next to your son, who looked more than displeased, as you insisted on getting a picture of their matching coordinated first day of kindergarten outfits. Sounds familiar hm…
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who’s response is always “Duh, she’s my best friend.” When his friends tease him about how they always knew the two of you would end up together.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who never really HATED anything you did. He was just too stubborn to use the word LOVE.
HII I hope you enjoyed reading !
I did NOT proofread this so I hope there aren’t too many mistakes…
these past few weeks you’ve been watching tiktoks of people asking their signifcant other to peel/cut oranges for them. you watch the variety of reactions; from a hudband who tells his wife to ‘do it yourself, im not your maid’ to ‘you feel like an orange? i feel like an apple.’
wondering how your boyfriend would react to the request, you secretly record him while the both of you were lying on the bed—deep down you already know how he’d react.
“katsuki, baby,”
he grumbles in reply
“i feel like snacking on some oranges”
“i bought and cut some earlier, it’s in the fridge.”
he went beyond your expectations, you had expected him to be willing but not him reading your mind and anticipating the day you would crave some oranges, “huh…?”
he looks up from his phone and look at you, with an eyebrow raise, “what?”
“how do you know i want oranges?”
he shrugs, “i don’t know, lucky guess,” his mouth curled up a teeny tiny bit.
he can’t just say that he had a feeling you would, that would make him seem like a loser (he is, in every way possible.) he noticed you kept using your citrus lipbalm out of the 20 other flavours. you ordered 2 lemony-orangey-citrusy sodas this week alone, you unconsciously triple sniffed when you walk past the fruits —specifically the oranges—aisle. just a lucky guess.
mornings with katsuki are pretty mundane, to say the least.
he’s a morning person. you were not. the both of you knew that from the day you started dating.
as a morning person, he always has an early morning alarm on the days he has work. rarely is it any time close to when he has to clock in. he’ll try to turn his alarm off as quickly as possible as to not wake you, and it almost never works. as he shifts in bed, you stir awake.
“sorry,” he mumbles as he carefully raises himself out of bed.
you stay in bed while he starts getting ready for his morning workout. the streets are pretty empty around this time, so he’ll just take a run around the neighborhood. he takes a shower when he comes back and starts on breakfast.
it’s at this point you start to get out of bed, lured into the kitchen by the sound of food sizzling. you come to find katsuki standing in front of the stove, topless.
“good morning,” you greet, half asleep.
“morning. you hungry?”
“yeah…” from behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his back. “you should always walk around like this.”
katsuki chuckles. “you think so?” you hum in response. he finds you so cute when you’re barely awake. well, he always finds you cute. “go sit down, I’m almost done.”
you obey and in a matter of minutes are presented a fabulous plate of food. you thank him and he places a kiss on your temple as a silent “your welcome.” he then ruffles you hair and tells you to “wake your ass up.”
mornings with katsuki are pretty mundane, but never are they not sweet.
You wear Katsuki’s shirt while he’s away on missions, breathing in his scent as though some residual warmth from the night before would seep through. The hem of the shirt goes down to your thighs, oversized and perfect for wearing to bed, so you tuck yourself under the blankets and pretend that he’s there with you. It’s not the same, but the promise he made permits you to sleep. He will be back soon, and until then you can dream.
On the bedside table sits a delicate ring, smooth gold engraved with his initials. Miles feel like worlds away, but somewhere, your ring’s match has been locked away in a hotel drawer while its owner faces another day of heroism. Katsuki’s ring may not always be on his finger, but he carries you with him in a photo tucked in his hero suit, in the pocket hidden on his chest, because that’s where he thinks you belong: closest to his heart. Scotch tape divides the photo in two, an uneven white crease and a dark stain in the corner survives as evidence of a time he almost didn’t make it home. A strike that came too close, cutting through layers of fabric, paper, and flesh.
Katsuki might answer to you, but Dynamight answers to the call of duty. Sometimes the two don’t coincide.
He remembers lying on his back on broken concrete, the taste of iron in his mouth. Too little feeling in his arms, too much feeling everywhere else, a throbbing pain in his head, a sharp pain in his chest. Vision blurring, breaths shallowing, your voice calling out to him. He knows you aren’t there. Or at least, he certainly hopes you aren’t. But the last thing he saw was you, wearing the sundress you wore when he first met you, reaching out to him from the dark.
He remembers the way you cried when he woke up, sitting at his bedside in a crisp white room. The way you cursed him, telling him you would hit him if he wasn’t already so beaten up, that the only way he was allowed to die was if you killed him yourself. He would’ve scoffed at the notion if it hadn’t hurt so much. If death hadn’t been as close as you made it sound. Like the torn photo he refuses to throw away, he comes home battered but recognizable. His new wounds scar to remind him of what he nearly lost, but he does come home.
He comes home to a house that is his as much as it is yours. To a bed where one side is unslept in. To his shirts, wrinkled and misplaced, the faint scent of you lingering on their collars. When he’s finally next to you after all those nights away, he promises to be more careful, promises that he has redefined what it means to win. Because if he loses his life, he loses it all— you included. He is yours to his dying breath, but he won’t be taking that breath any time soon.
It doesn’t stop you from missing him when he’s gone, curling into his shirts and listening to recordings of his voice, wishing the distance between you was smaller. It doesn’t stop him from tucking a grimy, stained photo of you in his pocket, messaging you on breaks and turning his ring round his finger at night. He functions fine on his own and knows you do too, but resisting change is only human and the human in him loves you.
Sometimes you just miss a person, even knowing their absence is temporary.
But it’s a beautiful thing, to have someone worth missing. It makes him treasure where he finds your presence most reliably: in the mundane. Wordless conversations, walks around the block, mornings doing laundry or spent lazily in bed, the minutes one might take for granted, the parts of life you don’t notice until something doesn’t feel quite right about eating dinner alone.
When you sleep in Katsuki’s shirt, you keep him a little closer. He fills your dreams with snarky comments and snorting laughter, back hugs and pecks on your forehead; promises told in confidence and sealed with a kiss. His side of the bed isn’t empty, just waiting. Waiting for him to take his place right next to you, the person he calls home.
─────────────────────
A/N: i wrote this back in March years ago in like, 2023 (it’s scary how time flies) during some long distance heart ache, and didn’t think I’d ever post it bc it was *personal* but I think it’s been long enough now? so take this piece of my heart gently ❤️
˚✿˖ Synopsis: All your life, you’ve had it all—wealth, beauty, and a quirk good enough to secure your spot at UA. But after three years, you still feel more like an outsider than a future hero. Social life? Barely existent. Friends? Who needs them? You’re ready to coast through your final year solo… until fate lands you squarely in the lap of a certain hot-headed blonde—literally.
˚✿˖ Authors note: I hope you guys enjoy this chap! I love writing for these cuties
˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder
˚✿˖ Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next
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Bakugou can't help but notice you everywhere.
It's a newer development, he could’ve sworn your quirk must’ve been invisibility before. Or maybe it was something lamer, like blending into walls and not making a damn sound.
Now, it's like he can't help but find you whenever you're in the same room. It’s like gravity’s tilted toward you!
Homeroom’s no exception. Aizawa’s droning at the front about god-knows-what, voice flat as chalk dust.
Katsuki’s in the first row, posture squared, nothing between him and the board to keep him distracted. Nothing except you. Even without looking, he knows you’re there. A few seats back, just behind shitty hair. Close enough his brain keeps trying to turn around.
He hates it. With every fiber of his being.
It’s been days since the photoshoot, but the images still won’t leave him. Or maybe it’s not the photos. Maybe it’s just you.
You’re the same as ever, but if he had a nickel for every time some rich classmate revealed themselves to have mommy issues, he’d have two nickels. Which isn’t much, but it’s already more than he needs.
You strolled into class today like absolutely nothing had happened on Friday, walking in with your designer loafers and diamonds sparkling on each ear. One weak little smile tossed his way before you hurried off to your seat behind Kirishima.
And well, somehow that was all it took to blur the rest of class into background noise.
Before, you were just another extra - some nepo baby everyone only knew because of how your tuition was bought and paid for.
Now, you're just about everywhere he looks.
The bell finally rings. Katsuki jerks upright, Aizawa mutters a dismissal, desks scrape as everyone packs up. Out of habit he glances back - just in time to catch you blowing air across your journal, trying to dry the pastel gel ink before shutting it.
He squints. Do all of your damn pens have giant fuzzy puffballs on top?
Before he can sneer about it, Kirishima’s grinning face cuts into view. “You ready, bro? Hitting the gym before joining the others, right?”
Katsuki quirks a brow. “Yes to the gym. No to whatever the hell you’ve got after.”
“Oh c’mon man you agreed last week! It’s just that new mall. The Outdoor place, we’re all going.”
Katsuki’s lip curls. “Who’s we?”
“You know. The gang. Even Y/N’s coming! Ochako said so yesterday.”
Something in his chest stutters, though his face stays flat. Of course Cheeks invited you. Of course you said yes. Lately you’ve been orbiting them more, and he’s noticed. He hates that he’s noticed. “I’ll pass.”
Kirishima just snorts. “No you won’t. I’ll drag you if I have to. But first - you’re spotting me on the bench press today.”
Katsuki huffs, standing. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Sorry, excuse me.”
The voice is small, right behind Kirishima’s frame. Both boys pause, turning to see you blinking up at them. Kirishima grins and sidesteps. “No worries. See you later, Y/N!”
You smile faintly, fingers clutching your tote strap. Your nails sparkle when the light hits them, still twinkling like they did during the shoot. Borderline ridiculous. He can’t stop staring.
Your gaze flicks to him though it's brief, and then it’s gone, tucked safely back on Kirishima. “Y-yeah, we’re meeting in the common room, right?”
As you sort details with Shitty Hair, Katsuki narrows his eyes. His brain drags him back to Friday, to sharp words and your mother’s voice, to things he knows he shouldn’t care about. Curiosity coils sharp and restless anyway.
And then you’re leaving. Tote swinging, perfume trailing faint behind you.
Kirishima’s hand lands on his shoulder, solid. “Gym time, bro!”
Katsuki exhales through his teeth. “Fine.”
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You sink into the bed the moment you finish your shower, hair tucked into a towel and body wrapped in the softest pajamas you own. Your laptop rests against your thighs, the familiar glow pulling you into the comfort of your favorite show.
The sheets beneath you are brand new, a pink and purple floral pattern you ordered on a whim over the weekend. They feel impossibly soft, dangerously so, and you already know you’ve cursed yourself by creating the coziest refuge imaginable.
You don’t want to leave!
Not when your favorite contestant on the show you like has made it into the final three, and the thought of being spoiled before the finale makes your stomach twist. Not when your room feels so warm, so safe, as if the outside world can’t reach you here.
The pale blue tones and fairy lights you had before were lovely, but you’d needed a change.
Maybe it was a stress response to interacting with your mother again after so long. Maybe it was just the kind of itch only new room decor could scratch. Either way, Hajime hadn’t asked questions when you begged him to help redecorate.
Now lavender hues soften the edges of your walls, pink accents brighten every corner, and expensive mood lighting hums quietly around you. It should be perfect.
Yet, no matter how carefully you built this cocoon, the dull achy feeling in your chest lingers.
A soft knock startled you, cutting through the haze of your thoughts. You fumbled, yanking your glasses off your face and tossing them into the nearest cabinet like it was illegal contraband.
“Come in!” Your voice cracked brighter than you intended, and you forced yourself to peel out of the warm sheets, even though every fiber of you begged to stay tucked away.
Your brows shot up when the door swung open to reveal Ochako, glowing like she’d stepped out of a catalog. Hair smoothed, outfit pressed, lip tint subtle but obvious—she looked more than ready.
“Am I late?!” you gasped, panic rushing in as your eyes darted down to the slim vintage watch on your wrist.
“No, no!” she rushed, waving her hands quickly. “I’m just… really early. A little nervous about today.”
“Nervous? Why?” Your voice dropped into a whisper, the anxiety in her tone immediately bleeding into yours. If Ochako was nervous, you knew you had every right to spiral.
She twisted her fingers together, cheeks blooming a soft pink as she perched delicately on your plush mini sofa, sinking into the cushions like they might swallow her whole. “It’s just - Deku asked me if I wanted to grab dinner with him after… alone.”
Your eyes widened. “Like… a date?!”
Ochako’s face went scarlet, rivaling the red soles of your favorite heels. “No Y/N! God, wait, do you think it’s a date?! We’re just friends, but - ”
“Ochako.” You leaned forward, whispering like you were imparting a secret. “I think it’s a date.”
She squealed, muffling the sound by burying her face into one of your overstuffed decorative pillows. You couldn’t help the little smile tugging at your lips as you settled back on your bed.
“That’s fun! And about time.” Because honestly? If you - with zero social skills and a documented fear of men had figured out those two had a thing for each other, then the entire world must’ve known.
You’d been rooting for them since first year, at first chalking it up to your romance-novel-addled imagination… but time had only proved you right.
“Oh gosh, Y/N, what do I do?! Should I change my outfit?!” Ochako sat upright again, tugging at the skirt of her sundress like it suddenly didn't fit her right. “I haven’t even done my makeup yet! Maybe I should ask Momo to help-”
You hummed, nodding lightly. “Momo’s makeup is always really good… but I don't think you should change? You look cute right now.” You gestured toward her lemon-yellow sundress and simple white flats.
The fabric caught the light when she fidgeted, and for a moment you wanted to ask if it was vintage - but judging by her panic, probably not the right time.
“Maybe since it’s dinner, you could wear a heel?” you suggested instead.
Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t really own any that go with this dress. Maybe I should just change the entire outfit…”
Your brows drew together. “What size are you? I have heels that’d look really cute.” You were already on your feet, striding toward your walk-in closet - the one that had been built just for you when the dorms went up. Money talks, after all.
Even with the custom space, your wardrobe strained the shelves and racks, the air thick with the soft blend of leather polish, fabric softener, and expensive perfume.
Ochako gasped from behind you, trailing closer but shaking her head frantically. “Y/N, you don’t have to lend me anything! That’s so sweet, but I’ll find something else-”
“Here they are!” you interrupted triumphantly, plucking a pair of butter-yellow Dior slingbacks from the top row. They gleamed under the soft closet lights, delicate and perfect. You spun on your heel and pressed them into her hands with a bright smile. “They’ll match your dress.”
Ochako nearly choked when her eyes caught the tiny stitched Dior logo near the heel. “Y/N… these are gorgeous, but I cannot wear them.”
You frowned, confused. “Why not? Not your size?”
Her gaze snapped up, wide and horrified. “Because they probably cost more than a month of rent?! What if I ruin them?!” She tried to shove the shoes back at you, panic written all over her face.
You just shook your head, stubborn. “That’s what dry cleaners are for, Ochako. Seriously. I think you should wear them, heels are a confidence boost! And those are really comfortable.”
She still looked like she might faint, but finally let out a squeaky laugh and gave in, cradling the heels like they were made of glass.
You perched on the edge of your bed, chin in your palm, watching eagerly as she took her first tentative steps. The shoes hugged her perfectly. When she finally stood in front of your full-length mirror, her reflection straightened with an almost imperceptible confidence.
Then she froze. “Wait… is your room different now? How am I just noticing this?” She turned from the mirror, eyes widening as she finally took in the lavender hues of your new sheets, the glowing mood lights, the subtle clutter of unopened delivery boxes you hadn’t hidden yet.
You laughed, the sound a little too quick, a little too awkward. “I… tend to stress shop.” You waved it off, fingers tugging at your rings as if to distract both her and yourself. “But back to you, I think the heels look amazing.”
Ochako lingered on your fidgeting for a moment, her brows knitting like she wanted to pry.
But then her expression softened, and she let the subject go. “They really are pretty, Y/N. And comfortable too.” She turned side to side in the mirror, testing her balance with a small smile. Then her lips pressed together. “But is it… too much for the mall we’re going to first? Like, heels and a dress? I know it’s a fancier mall, but I don’t want to look over the top.”
Relief washed through you that she hadn’t pressed further about your redecorating. You shrugged easily. “I mean, I wear heels all the time! You can never look too good anywhere you go.”
The words tasted familiar, not quite your own. Your mother’s voice echoing in your head: Never leave the house undone. It was one of the only lessons she had ever taken the time to teach you.
Ochako tilted her head, considering, then nodded decisively. “You’re right. I’ll throw on a light cardigan to make it feel more casual for the day.” She tugged at the hem of her sundress, still analyzing her reflection.
You smiled softly, warmth filling your chest at the sight of her shoulders relaxing. “Perfect. You look great!”
She beamed, glowing like the girl who could float entire buildings into the sky—then promptly deflated back onto your sofa, letting out a groan. “Have you ever been on a date before, Y/N? I don’t even know what to expect.”
The question caught you off guard. You let out a short, almost nervous laugh, shaking your head quickly. “Absolutely not. I’ve never even held hands with a boy.” The words slipped out in a rush, your turn to feel heat rise in your cheeks.
Ochako’s jaw dropped slightly. “Are you serious? But… you’re so pretty! I totally would’ve thought-”
You gave a small shrug, eyes lowering as your fingers toyed with the thin silver band circling your finger. “I don’t know. I just don’t think boys like me that way. But it’s fine, really.”
Ochako blinked at you as if you’d just spoken another language. “Trust me, Y/n. Boys do like you that way. A lot of the guys in our class think you’re pretty.” Her tone softened, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
You froze, your heart skipping unevenly. “Oh… seriously?”
She nodded, almost surprised you hadn’t realized it before. “Of course. But I get it, I’m not exactly experienced either. Not like some of the other girls.”
Your brows lifted. “Like who?”
“Well, Momo and Todoroki have been seeing each other for a while, though I don’t think it’s official. There’s definitely something going on between Kirishima and Mina. And Jirou’s had a crush on Kaminari forever—he even kissed her once.”
Your jaw slackened as you listened, shock written all over your face. How had you missed all of this in the past three years?
“Even Bakugou’s dated,” Ochako added. “He and that girl from Shiketsu had a thing last year.”
Your eyes flew wide. “R-really? What girl from Shiketsu?”
She hesitated, her fingers stilling against the fabric of her skirt. For a moment her lips parted, then pressed shut again—like she hadn’t meant to let it slip at all. A flicker of guilt softened her face.
“I don’t think it was ever serious,” she said at last, voice light, but not careless. “But… Camie was really into him. They hung out often.”
You blink, the words sinking slowly, impossibly, into you. The name cracked something open. A dull weight coiled in your stomach, dread unspooling before you even understood why.
“Oh,” you breathed, fighting the twitch of your mouth into a smile. “I remember her. She’s… really pretty.”
The words tasted brittle on your tongue, hollowly polite.
Pretty - Camie with her shining hair the color of warm light, her flawless skin, that easy charm that seemed to belong to girls who never tripped over their own feelings. The kind of girl who would fit beside a guy like Bakugou without ever questioning if she was enough. Camie was incredibly confident and cool, the two of them made sense.
The thought of Bakugou with a girl made you feel slightly ill. Were they still talking? If not, did he miss her? Was it distance that pried them apart, or something deeper, something personal he had given her that you’d never touched?
You hated how much you wanted to know, as if knowing would change anything at all. You and Bakugou weren't even friends, who were you to pry into his dating history?!
It wasn't really any of your business, but you want to know everything.
“How did you… um, find out about them?” The question slipped from you gingerly, your hands fidgeting with your nails as you shifted against the bed. You could feel Ochako’s gaze linger, watchful, as though she were measuring your every reaction.
“Well, Mina told me.” She tilted her head, searching your face before continuing. “It was really more of a mutual attraction thing. But I don’t think they took each other so seriously. Bakugou isn’t really… the relationship type.”
Ochako winced as soon as the words left her, as if realizing they sounded sharper than she intended.
You blinked, trying to process, but your chest only seemed to tighten.
"I see..." It was all you could manage, feeling smaller than ever all of the sudden. The thought wouldn’t leave you: Bakugou had dated before. And with a girl like Camie at that! The uneasy feeling in your chest doesn't settle as you avert your eyes from Ochako.
The unease lodged in your chest did not settle. You lowered your eyes, pretending to smooth the blanket beneath your palms, but really it was to hide the way your expression faltered in the silence that followed.
Ochako hesitated, then finally asked the question that must have been weighing on her tongue. “Y/N… is there something going on between you and Bakugou?”
You cough, absolutely mortified. Ochako asking that made your pathetic crush feel all too real. You shook your head too quickly.
“N-not at all! I mean-” You tried to laugh it off, but it sounded awkward, tense. “This year I’ve just… gotten to know him a little more, I guess. All by coincidence, really.”
Your smile was shaky, like paper threatening to tear. “He’s… kinder than I thought he’d be,” you admitted softly, the truth slipping through despite yourself. “I’m just… trying to get to know my classmates.”
And that was all you allowed yourself to say. You'd rather die than admit to Ochako that you have a severely sad crush on the blonde boy, especially after she just told you about his past with Camie. A girl who's the embodiment of everything you're not.
Ochako gives you a soft look when she gets the hint, but it melts into a smile as she nods.
Minutes later, she’s sat comfortably on your bed while you step out of the bathroom, a little jean skirt brushing your thighs, a creamy off-the-shoulder blouse sliding gently against your skin. Gold glimmers at your ears and wrists, paired with your usual diamond stack catching the light.
Ochako lets out a delighted little “oooh,” nodding as her eyes roam over you. “What shoes are you wearing?”
You disappear into the closet again and return with a creamy white Birkin draped over your arm, deep brown Louboutins clicking softly against the floor. Ochako gawks openly at the impossible curve of the five-and-a-half-inch heels, certain anyone else would already be toppling over.
“This is my mom’s bag, it’s old but still one of my favorites. And the shoes… I thought the color felt right for fall,” you murmur, smoothing your skirt in the mirror and tilting your head, considering the outfit as if the finishing touches are only just revealing themselves.
“Gosh you look so good already, I’ll leave you to it and go ask Momo to help me with my makeup. Text me if you need anything!” Ochako beams, all warmth and brightness.
You try to lift your lips the way she does, to let that kind of light live on your face, but the weight in your chest refuses to ease.
“I'll see you later, Ochako.”
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The outdoor mall hums with weekend energy, sunlight spilling down through rows of young maples strung with fairy lights that wait for dusk to come alive. Heat still clings stubbornly to the air, the kind of sticky warmth that feels more like late summer than fall, though the sharp tang of cinnamon from a nearby café insists the season has changed.
You trailed a step behind the others, their laughter carrying light and easy beneath the shade of the young maples.
The storefronts all gleamed too perfectly - glass and polished stone, mannequins posed like porcelain dolls in carefully curated scenes.
The sun hit the white pavement so harshly you had to tilt your sunglasses higher on your nose, your fingers tightening on the creamy leather handle of your bag.
This was why you hated malls. All this walking, the noise, the heat - when it would’ve been easier, to call your personal sales associate for a private appointment!
You was awfully confused as to why nobody in the group had appointments today...
Somewhere ahead, Mina’s bracelets sang with each dramatic wave of her arm as she pointed toward a boutique window, Jirou’s chuckle spilling out in quiet harmony beside her. Ochako, Momo, and Tsuyu lingered close, Ochako’s nervous chatter about her “not-date” drawing knowing smiles from the other girls.
The boys hadn’t arrived yet, though the dread in your chest made it feel like they were looming already. You had overheard Bakugou grumble to Kirishima in class that he wasn’t coming, but deep down you knew better. Eijirou had a way of pulling him along, no matter how stubborn his protests.
Quite frankly, you were terrified of seeing him, especially since your little fantasy of him had been shattered. If he liked girls like Camie, he certainly wouldn't like you.
And because the universe seemed to find delight in your suffering, that was exactly when it happened.
A hulking shadow appeared at your side, close enough you nearly shrieked, your heart vaulting into your throat. The oversized black sweater draped across his broad frame only made him look more like a threat, and for one ridiculous second you thought you were about to get mugged.
“Sad eyes,” Bakugou’s voice broke through, low and amused, the faintest curl tugging at his mouth. “We gotta stop meeting like this.”
You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the wild flutter of your heart. “We really do,” you breathed, tilting your chin up to glare at him through your lashes. “I swear, I’ll buy you a bell so you’ll stop scaring me like this.”
Bakugou didn’t so much as flinch under your glare, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets as if the threat barely registered.
The boys joined soon after, their voices booming and carefree as the group expanded across the sunlit walk. You fell back into step, but your attention wandered.
That sweater. You recognized the designer label stitched along the cuff immediately, a tiny arch tugging your brow. Bakugou, in that? You’d never pegged him as the type to bother with labels.
“Nice sweater,” you remarked, lips curving faintly. “But how are you not dying? I’m melting over here.” The complaint came out as a little huff, your sunglasses shielding your eyes as your heels clicked against the bright pavement.
He didn’t bother looking at you, but you felt his gaze all the same - sharp and sidelong from the corner of his vision. “Sun’s already going down. It’ll cool off soon.”
You pouted. “Not soon enough” you sighed, fanning yourself with one hand. Even in your little jean skirt, the heat clung sticky and relentless.
That was when you saw it. Gleaming like salvation on the corner, glass doors flanked with gold trim, its windows glittering with rows of diamonds that caught the sunlight like stars. One of your favorite jewelers - your heart gave a delighted skip.
You stopped mid-step, sunglasses slipping down your nose as you stared. “I-I’m just going to pop in here for a bit! You all go ahead, I’ll meet you after.” The words tumbled out quickly, your heels already carrying you toward the store’s double doors.
The group barely heard, their chatter rolling on ahead. Bakugou, though, halted.
His gaze flicked between their retreating backs and your figure striding away without a second thought. It wasn’t a hard decision. If he had to trail behind Deku and Cheeks flirting with no entertainment of his own, he’d rather blow his own head off.
So he followed.
The security guard barely spared you a glance before holding the door, but his gaze hardened at Bakugou. The boy only shot him a deadpan look, sharp enough to cut steel, and kept walking.
You turned at the sound of his footsteps, surprise flashing across your face.
“Oh—I didn’t mean to take you away from your friends,” you said lightly, shoulders rising in a little shrug. “You can go back with them. I’ll just be here for a while.” Your eyes had already drifted back to the glass cases, where diamonds winked up at you temptingly.
Bakugou was about to tell you exactly how little he cared about his idiot friends when the inevitable swooped in: a sales associate, older, powdered within an inch of her life, hair coiled into a sleek bun.
Her smile strained with eagerness, eyes practically glowing green with dollar signs as she took in your entire ensemble.
“Welcome! How are you today? May I offer you something to drink as you browse?”
Bakugou’s jaw tightened, his tongue halfway to a curse. But you only returned her smile, bright and genuine. “Two waters, please. And a private room to view any of your new pieces.”
His eye twitched. Not only had he been dragged into this mall against his will - now he was about to sit through you playing princess dress-up in some stuffy little showroom full of overpriced rocks.
Great.
The door shut behind you with a cushioned sound, and the world narrowed into that tiny gilded room.
Arrangements of lilies and pale hydrangeas softened the corners, their fragrance cloying, while the chairs, plush, wine-red velvet with carved wooden arms, seemed far too indulgent for him to touch. You, though, looked perfectly at home, smoothing your skirt as if this were the most natural place for you to be.
When the attendant - an older woman in pearl earrings began setting down small trays of glittering pieces, Bakugou leaned back against his chair, arms crossed, eyebrows arched at you like a silent accusation.
Watching you try them on with careful fingers, head tilted in the soft lamplight, only made the knot of irritation in his chest grow tighter.
Was it really irritation though?
"Um Bakugou, do you like this one?" Your voice was a flutter of curiosity as you shifted in your velvet chair, tugging the shoulder of your top just slightly to show him how the necklace lay against your skin. “I already have the gold version, but look! they have it in platinum here.”
It's pretty, a simple dainty chain encrusted with a small row of twinkling floating diamonds. Each stone flashes against the smooth skin of your neckline, and Bakugou finds himself focused on all the wrong things. He's irritated at the realization.
“If you already have it, why the hell do you need another one?” His tone was blunt, but his eyes lingered.
Behind you, the saleswoman’s smile faltered. He internally snorted at the ridiculousness of it all.
But you only tilted your head, lips curling like you found his question silly. “Because this one’s platinum!” Your answer was light, and innocent. The old woman visibly exhaled, relief smoothing her powdered features.
He nearly rolled his eyes, wishing he could screw that woman's commission over.
You leaned closer, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. “And look, they even have a matching bracelet.” You extended your wrist toward him, delicate and soft, already adorned in its own little orchestra of gold, silver, and gems. Stacked rings, thin chains, a watch with a face that glimmered faintly.
It was too much and yet somehow, it suited you perfectly.
Bakugou blinked. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to be looking at anymore, but he gave a sharp nod anyway. Because for some reason, watching you in this setting, bright-eyed and uncharacteristically carefree, was… not unpleasant.
Maybe it was because just last week, he’d caught you looking heartbreakingly small and quiet because of your mother, living up to that nickname he’d slapped onto you weeks ago: sad eyes.
Here, you looked at home. Like a spoiled cat sunbathing exactly where it wanted to be, a glint sparking in your eye as you told the sales associate which pieces you did or didn’t want, casually requesting emeralds for a custom order like you’d been born doing it.
Bakugou couldn’t believe this was the same girl who once could barely string two sentences together in front of him.
Mute, his ass.
Before he knows it, the two of you are being ushered out of the plush little showroom, glass doors gleaming as the sales associate waves cheerfully after you.
She’d had the audacity, the nerve, to hand Bakugou your shopping bags as though he were your personal mule. His fingers twitched around the rope handles. He wanted to cuss her out right then and there. Did she think he was your servant?
“Thank you for stopping by, Miss L/N” the old lady crooned, hands clasped primly. “You and your boyfriend make a beautiful couple.”
That’s when the two of you freeze mid-step, like someone hit pause on a badly timed romcom.
You quite literally blink, springing into action with a nervous laugh, hands fluttering as if you can physically swat the words out of the air.
“Oh! Um, no. We’re not - well, it’s not like that, you see-”
“Thanks lady” Bakugou cuts through your panic-babbling without so much as a stutter, nodding once like he’s signing paperwork. He’s already steering you toward the exit, shouldering past the glass doors and side-stepping the suited-up security guard like this is just any other day.
By the time you’re on the sidewalk, you’re still mid–cardiac event. Bakugou glances at you, one brow arched in silent question, like he’s trying to deduce whether or not you’re about to kneel over and pass out.
You glance at him, more awkward than ever and let out a nervous, airy laugh. "Wow! Um, what a funny lady..." You say, smile so tight you strictly avoid eye contact with him, lowering your sunglasses back over your eyes.
Bakugou doesn’t look the slightest bit convinced. His stare lingers, sharp and assessing, before he huffs out a short, derisive snort. “What're you so freaked out over?”
Your smile falters instantly, lips twitching as though they might crumble under the weight of his words.
You've been put through enough social torture this year, and it's gotten to a point where you genuinely don't know how to move past it.
So without answering, you pivot on your heels, five inches of reckless bravado, and march off with a pace far swifter than anyone should manage in shoes like that. The click of them against the stone path is clipped, rapid, like your heartbeat.
Bakugou blinks, thrown for half a second. He already knew you were quick on the field even in those death-trap boots of your hero costume, but damn. Even now?
He lengthens his stride to match yours, eventually falling in step beside you. He doesn’t mention the store clerk’s words again - mercifully. It’s obvious how close they’d come to needling a nerve you can’t bear prodded.
“God, how is it still so hot?” you mutter, hand fluttering weakly in front of your face like a makeshift fan, your voice pitched somewhere between complaint and distraction.
Bakugou glances down at you, one brow arched in that annoyingly judgmental way of his. “Tch. Is it really bothering you that bad?”
You let out a helpless little groan, tugging the strap of your bag tighter. “Yeah, I’m melting! Isn’t it supposed to be fall? I have so many cute boots I wanna wear but can’t. I’m stuck with my summer wardrobe.” The words tumble out in a sigh, airy and dramatic, drifting into the hum of the outdoor mall.
His gaze trails after your gesturing hands, landing unintentionally on the rest of you. The little jean skirt hugging your hips, the ivory blouse brushing against your skin, the way your legs caught the sunlight as you walked.
Fit, toned, surprisingly so considering how shitty your eating happens have proven to be over the last couple of weeks. All sugar and trashy corner store snacks.
Not that Bakugou hadn’t noticed before. He wasn’t blind. You were objectively attractive, everyone at U.A. knew it, if the stares you drew in every hallway were anything to go by.
He wondered if you even realized how often eyes clung to you, hungry and unashamed.
He clicked his tongue, smothering the thought with a rough snort. Your whining was still annoying. Amusing, maybe. But annoying. “Fine. You want ice cream?”
Your head snaps up, eyes blinking wide. “Ice cream?”
“Yeah,” he mutters, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his posture all jagged indifference even though it edges toward something… protective. “Stop whining, and I’ll get you one. Something cold to shut you up.”
A small, incredulous laugh bursts from your lips. “You’re… offering me ice cream?”
His lips twitch, sharp and smug. “You got a listening problem, sad eyes?”
Before you can respond, he pivots on his heel, striding toward the pastel-colored shop a few steps ahead, its sign glinting under the afternoon sun.
You hurry after him, heels clicking against the pavement like a heartbeat, the tension in your chest melting into a little bubble of relief. Something sweet and cold was waiting.
The shop smells like sugar and warm waffle cones, the scent so vivid it makes your stomach flutter despite the sticky heat outside.
Rows of glass cases shimmer with vibrant scoops: pistachio green, raspberry pink, chocolate swirls, and creamy vanilla dotted with chocolate chips. The little bell above the door jingles as you step inside, and suddenly, the world feels a touch softer, like sunlight filtering through pale curtains.
Bakugou reaches the counter first, broad shoulders almost shading the entire display case. You hover behind him, eyes darting from cone to cone, fingers tightening around your bag strap.
“What do you want?” he asks, clipped, almost casual - but the slight tilt of his head, the way his gaze flickers to your face, betrays him.
You bite your lip, torn between flavors, a dizzying little thrill of indecision fluttering in your chest. “Um… maybe… strawberry?” you whisper, pointing to a soft pink scoop that looks spun from candy clouds.
He grunts once, then nods to the cashier. “Two scoops. Strawberry for her.”
“Two?” you ask, eyebrows raised.
“Don’t want you crying because it melts,” he mutters, deadpan, but the faint edge of care undercuts his words. You smile despite yourself.
When he hands you the waffle cone, the cold nearly kisses your fingers through the paper.
You take it delicately, savoring the sweet chill, letting it soothe the sticky heat and the tension of the afternoon. For a moment, the mall, the sun, even the awkward icebreaker with the sales associate fade into the background.
He watches you eat, expression unreadable, but you catch the tiniest, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. And for once, the sun doesn’t feel quite so harsh.
“Thanks for the ice cream,” you murmur, voice small and airy, gesturing at the strawberry scoop buried under a hailstorm of rainbow sprinkles.
“Yeah, yeah. Just didn’t want to keep hearing you whine” Katsuki mutters, eyes deliberately avoiding yours, though you swear you catch the faintest glimmer of amusement. “Now let’s go find the rest of those idiots.”
“Sorry for keeping you from them” you huff, already pouting a little, the heat and mild embarrassment tangled in your words. “I just hate outdoor malls. Everything’s off the rack, and the sun exposure is awful.”
His eye twitches at your bratty tone, but instead of snapping, he lets it slide, captivated by the way your little frown tugs at your features. The irritation melts before it can spark.
You tilt your head down at your cone, fingers brushing the sprinkles absently, and for the first time notice him glancing. You assume it’s the ice cream, but the sharpness of his gaze makes your chest flutter.
“D… did you want some?” you ask, extending the cone toward him.
He pauses, eyes flicking from the pink swirl to your small, delicate hand. A flash of déjà vu prickles the back of your neck, pulling you back to another sunlit moment - the lake, the straw, the closeness you’d tried so hard to ignore.
Heat blooms in your chest, entirely unrelated to the sun.
His lips twitch in a crooked half-smile, the smirk that always manages to disarm you. “You sure you wanna share, sad eyes?”
You blink at him, horrified he’s clearly remembering the same thing. “Well! Um, sure. I don’t see why not.” You laugh, too quick and too awkward, the sound bouncing clumsily between you as your hand stays stretched out, cone wobbling slightly.
He studies you, gaze unreadable, and you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until lightheadedness creeps in at the edges. Then, finally: “Too sweet for me. It’s all yours.”
Your shoulders sag, relief flooding through you - though it’s not entirely relief, is it? Some small, traitorous part of you had wanted to see him take a bite, to watch his mouth brush the place where yours had just been.
Oh god, what Is happening to you?!
“Suit yourself,” you murmur, focusing intently on your cone, avoiding him like the very thought of him might combust you. God forbid he catch even the faintest trace of disappointment on your face. How humiliating would that be?
“...You’re doing it again, sad eyes.”
The words pull you up short. You frown, glancing up at him. “Doing what?”
He jerks his chin to your side, and when you follow his gaze you freeze.
The beautifully paved sidewalks, the tidy greenery bordering the shops - everything is dusted in soft pink. Blossoms sprout where there had been none, curling delicately around lampposts and shrubs, petals glowing faintly like they’ve been drunk on your emotions.
Shit.
Heat surges up your neck, spreading to the tips of your ears, and suddenly your face feels hot enough to combust. Not even the ice cream dripping down your cone can cool you!
You open your mouth, scrambling for some half-baked excuse.
You were just, uh, practicing your quirk? Random pollen flare-up? Anything, when a voice cuts through the rising panic.
“Hey, L/N, right?”
You whip around, nearly dropping your cone. A tall, lanky boy with tanned skin, light brown hair, and hazel eyes is making his way toward you, waving a little too eagerly.
Bakugou stays at your side, scarlet eyes narrowing into a look sharp enough to cut glass.
“Um… yes?” you manage, your voice wobbling into a question instead of a confident answer.
The boy grins, a little awkward but earnest. “I’m Kai! I go to UA too, General Studies. We're in the same year.”
“Oh,” you blink, taken aback. “Nice to meet you.” The words come out soft, stilted. Talking to your classmates has been getting easier these past weeks, but that doesn’t mean you’ve suddenly become a social butterfly. And outside of school? This kind of thing never happens.
Bakugou’s brow arches, his stare still locked on the newcomer - this extra with the gall to walk straight up to you, heart-eyes practically glowing.
Kai nods quickly, smile broadening. “Nice to meet you too! I, uh… I’ve seen you around the halls a lot. And I was wondering if you’d maybe like to get lunch together sometime? I’d love to get to know you better.”
Your eyes widen in pure shock. Someone… wants to have lunch with you? The thought sends a jolt through your chest - nerves, excitement, disbelief all tangling together. Is this a prank? Nobody’s really ever shown interest in hanging out with you before.
Bakugou shifts slightly, arms folding, his gaze cutting to you now. Narrowed. Waiting.
There’s no way you’d actually say yes.
No way you’d waste your time on some flimsy extra who just looks like he'd tumble down if the wind gusts too hard.
Not that everything’s about looks, but you? You’ve got the kind of face that should be printed on every magazine cover.
And you’re so… weirdly sweet. Earnest. The thought of you hanging around some creep like this makes Bakugou’s teeth grind. This guy’s out of his depth, out of his league, out of his damn mind.
You swallow, nervously shifting your weight in your heels.
You've always eaten alone during lunch time, and Part of you wants to keep it that way… but another part remembers Ochako’s voice, encouraging you to step out, try new things, let people in. Maybe this could be a start?
You nod, “Well, sure, I think I can-”
Bakugou's eyes immediately widen, and he finds himself cutting through your words before he could stop himself. “She’ll be busy.”
You stop mid-sentence, jaw dropping as you whip your head toward Bakugou.
He doesn’t look at you. His glare is trained squarely on Kai, voice sharp enough to slice through the warm air. “With me.”
Kai freezes, his face flickering between confusion and dawning horror-like he’s only just realizing who’s been standing at your side this whole time.
“O-Oh, Bakugou! I didn’t realize you two were… together. I’m sorry, man.” He laughs nervously, stepping back and scratching the back of his neck.
It's the second time in a row you two are assumed to be a couple!
Wow, the gods were out to get you today...
Bakugou doesn’t correct him. He just keeps staring Kai down with such lethal intensity you almost fear for the brunette’s life. Your ice cream is long forgotten in your hand, your fingers clutching your birkin tighter and tighter as the anxiety coils in your chest.
You could barely hold a normal conversation with people.
How on earth were you supposed to navigate this?
How were you supposed to navigate this?! You smile, tense as Bakugou just stares down Kai, confused as to why he isn't denying Kai's assumption.
Your smile feels paper-thin, painfully tight as you stammer out, “It’s okay, Kai, no worries. Bakugou’s my… my friend! Haha, yeah. I’m sure I’ll see you around… at school.”
Kai nods quickly, though his eyes flick between you and Bakugou like he’s trying to gauge whether he should flee or not.
Honestly, you can’t even blame him - you’re standing here looking like a cornered rabbit, clutching your bag like a lifeline. You probably look just as close to combusting as he does.
And Bakugou?
Bakugou doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even try to deny it. He just stands there, stone-still and terrifying, radiating the kind of suffocating pressure that makes even the sun seem mild in comparison.
What the hell is going on? Where’s the loud, explosive Bakugou you’ve been secretly crushing on for the past three years?
Kai forces a weak smile, clearly desperate to pretend the earth isn’t swallowing him whole. “Yeah, for sure! I’ll see you around. Bye, L/N!”
Noticeably, he does not address Bakugou. Which is fair. If you’d just remembered that the guy next to you regularly levels entire arenas with his quirk, you’d probably be too busy drafting your will to say goodbye properly, too.
And just like that he's gone like the wind.
Which leaves you. With Bakugou. And the kind of silence that feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to shove you off.
You glance up at him, eyes wide, your stomach tying itself into new and exciting sailor’s knots.
“Um… did you know that guy?” Your grip on your bag finally eases as you lower your gaze to the ice cream in your hand, luckily for you, it hasn't started dripping yet!
Bakugou blinks, almost like you’ve tugged him back from whatever haze he’d been in. His expression is neutral, but in a Bakugou way, so forcibly blank it almost reads as aggressive. “Never seen him before in my life.”
You falter, brows knitting. “…Oh. You just seemed, um, mad. I thought maybe you knew him. Or had, you know… beef.”
It’s the truth of you, laid bare - your life experience stitched with gaps, your heart too earnest for its own good. You’re trying to read him, clumsy in your honesty, and it lands with the kind of sincerity Bakugou isn’t sure what to do with.
Because for reasons he’ll never admit aloud, he doesn’t mind being the one who helps you stitch the pieces together.
Doesn’t mind being the one you look to when you don’t know what the world is trying to tell you.
He really doesn't know what to do with that revelation, or how to process just what happened. He acted on pure instinct, quick to shut that guy out and keep you around. But why? It was so out of character for him, why the hell would he care about you agreeing to hang out with some rando from general studies?
“Tch.” He clicks his tongue, finally looking away, as if that could disguise the heat sparking under his skin. “As if that extra’s worth my time. Forget it. Let’s find the others.”
His hands shove deep into his hoodie pockets, but your shopping bags dangle from his wrist—an oddly domestic picture, though he’d probably rather eat dirt than admit it.
And you, still clutching your cone, still warm-cheeked and confused can’t decide if your heart is racing from Kai’s sudden offer… or Bakugou’s reaction to it.
The two of you fall into step, but your thoughts are anything but steady.
They tumble, trip, run circles in your head. You try to pin them down, try to make sense of the situation, but everything spirals back to him. Bakugou didn’t even like the general studies kids. Hell, he barely tolerated his own class. So maybe that’s all it was—just his disdain, just his temper. Maybe he’d only shot Kai down because he couldn’t stand some “extra” bothering him during his free time.
Yes, that had to be it. Nothing to do with you at all.
So why did your chest feel so traitorously tight?
You lick at the edge of your cone, nerves bubbling until the words tumble out in a whisper you instantly regret. “So… are we really going to hang out during lunch?”
The second it leaves your mouth, mortification crashes in. A familiar feeling.
But Bakugou doesn’t snap. Doesn’t laugh in your face or tell you you’re reading too much into things.
He’s quiet. Thoughtful, even, which is somehow scarier than his shouting.
And then, after a beat that stretches unbearably long, his voice drops low, calm enough to make your stomach flip. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll come to you. Where the hell is it that you go? You’re never in the cafeteria.”
You blink up at him, startled. Not just at the agreement, but at the fact he’s even noticed that.
“I… I’m always around the greenhouse,” you murmur. “Or the gardens. There are some tables out there nobody really uses. But I can come to you! I don’t want you to leave your friends just to sit out there with me.”
The implication, with me, hangs awkwardly between you, too heavy for your fragile voice.
Still, he doesn’t seem fazed. His gaze stays fixed ahead, his tone practiced and neutral.
Still, he doesn’t seem fazed. His gaze stays fixed ahead, his tone practiced and neutral.
“I’ll see you there, sad eyes. Now stop staring at me like that. Save your weak eyes for finding the idiots we came with.”
Your jaw drops, all the mushy warmth in your chest instantly evaporating.
“Weak eyes?! That’s messed up!”
“I’ve literally never met anyone with a lower prescription than you. They’re not exactly strong, are they?” His snort is sharp, dismissive, and you have to stop yourself from smacking his arm with your bag.
The luxurious togo leather doesn’t deserve that kind of abuse.
As the two of you walk on, the air feels noticably lighter, a soft trail of pink blossoms seems to drift in your wake. What you don’t notice, however, are the eyes tracking your every step. Across the street, the rest of the group stands frozen, jaws slack, wide-eyed at the sight of the two of you together.
It’s Denki who finally breaks the silence, a tragic sigh slipping past his lips.
“Damn… Bakugou and Y/N?! …Now I really don’t stand a chance.”
Sero claps a hand over his shoulder, unable to hold back a laugh.
When you were enlisted as a sidekick with The Genius Office agency, you had been hoping to work as a supporting hero for Best Jeanist, you were, in fact, not expecting to be sent into the mountainous wilderness to aid in the apprehension of a snow villain.
Even more so, you were certainly not expecting to be working alongside pro-hero Dynamight.
And yet here you were.
You had been assigned plenty of gear for the mission. The support team at TGO was renown as one of the most competitive in the country for UA support course students. That being said, they were incredibly cautious about the safety of their heroes. They had even provided an earpiece system so your communication through the torrential snowstorm wasn't so tedious.
Your pro counterpart on this mission, however, insisted on screaming over the wind, determined that he didn't "need that nonsense."
And anyway, It had been all for nothing, unfortunately. The mission had been a bust, the villain you were trailing had been apprehended by the time you had reached his hiding point on the mountain and it was fair to say Bakugou was pissed.
There were several expletives shouted into the wind before he eventually fizzled out. He ranted on and on about poor communication between agencies and regional hero work.
The comms between the agency and yourself had given way hours ago and Bakugou now trudged ahead in the snow. You felt as if your body was fighting against every element as the storm pushed you away from your destination.
No matter how often you clicked your ear piece to try to call for help, all you heard was the gentle *da-ding* before static resounded.
You were stuck. Wandering in a complete wasteland, and since the trip had been all for nothing, you couldn’t even feel content.
You had no idea how the lumbering man in front of you was able to pick up his steps so readily and march onward. Lucky as you were to (literally) follow in his steps (deeply planted in the icy snow) it was still difficult to not be discouraged by the blizzard ahead.
After what felt like hours, and a fully uphill climb, the sun finally began to set.
Your ham radio buzzed suddenly in your ear and you realized as it startled you how drowsy you were.
“Are ya still followin’? Ain’t got time to slow down.” Your vision was blurry, but you couldn’t tell if it was because of the snow, or another reason. Dynamight had his earpiece roughly grasped beside his head while he spoke to you.
“Copy. I’m here.” You say, and even just those words seem to take a lot out of you.
Dynamight hums gruffly, “Good. Cause we’ve got a ways to go before civilization.” And eventually, “God it’s cold.”
His words are a huge discouragement, you aren’t sure what to say, so you simply agree, “Yep. Freezin’ my balls off.”
He coughs out a single ‘ha!’ And continues onward. But with everything happening: the raging storm fighting against you, the icy cold frosting your bones, and the sun now beginning to fade, you’re starting to wobble where you stand.
Eventually you cannot even keep your head high enough to watch your partner, maintaining to follow his footprints, one step, then the next, then the next, over and over.
It’s strange, after a bit, it almost starts to get easy, to walk on, your cheeks and ears are starting to feel hot, and it’s as if your legs are floating as you stomp into the large shoe print left for you.
You start to tilt but catch yourself, making an embarrassing sound, luckily your comms weren’t on and Bakugou couldn’t have heard you over the wind.
You rip the covering from your face, the heat becoming uncomfortable now. When you lift your neck, you see the crux of the hill you had been climbing, but the motion thew you, and blood seemed to rush to your skull. It was as if one moment you had been marching onward and then next you were face up in the hard and icy snow.
Awe damn it…
You tried to click your comms, to connect with Bakugou and call for him but it was as if the snow had your arm caged where you had landed.
It didn’t take long for you to accept this position. Your body had never felt so weak. This was nowhere near your first mission, in fact, you were a colorfully decorated sidekick. Who would have known that a little snow would take you out. This was it…
Your head was pounding so you closed your eyes to help block it out. You were so sleepy… maybe it wasn’t so bad here.
You truly and no idea how long it had been but what felt to be all to quickly, you felt your eyes being forced open.
There was shouting, but you couldn’t understand the words.
Bakugou was before you, his hero costume was unbuttoned at his mouth as he yelled at you, condensation puffing out around his face.
He kept brushing you with his hand, he was doing it rather harshly as well.
“S-haap-“ was all you could get out, you made an effort to push him from you but it was fruitless. You were properly immobile.
A new sensation, a strong wave of nausea came over you as your world was thrown upside down. Quite literally, Bakugou had reached under your back and thrown you over his shoulder.
Blood rushed to your head once more as you stared at the back of his uniform. Sick grunts left you as his weight shifted quickly from foot to foot.
He heard none of it.
This time, when you fell asleep, it took much longer to wake you.
When you were finally roused, there was a crackling fire to your back and a broad black and orange chest directly in your face.
You pressed with as much strength as you could harness in your state and realized that it was real.
He was real.
“Huuuua?-“ you gasped, attempting to roll from him. Only to be met with a firm grip on your waist.
“Quit moving you idiot! First you try to freeze to death and now your want to go up in flames??!” You could feel him speaking aggressively into your hair.
There were a million things racing in your mind, but the first thing that escaped you was, “It’s hot…”
A tight hand was roughly making friction on your arms, Bakugou was aggressively petting you. “No, that’s your mind playing tricks on you.”
“Oh…”
Later you would look back on this and bang your head against the wall, throw a fit in your apartment, maybe even consider putting in your two weeks, but in this moment, you burrow your head into the large man’s chest.
“Th-e” you cough, your whole body shutters, “the villain-“
“It’s handled. No thanks to us. But they’re coming out to get us. Helicopter and everything. I’m gonna kill Jeanist.” He’s gnashing his teeth.
“Where are we?” You attempt to turn to the fire you know lies behind you. But a firm hand keeps you from turning.
“Made it to the town, apparently they were expecting us. Agency called once our comms gave out.” He grumbled. “Told ya it was useless.”
You just hum, successfully ignoring how insane it is to be sharing body heat with a top hero that you had previously shared so much as 10 words with.
But as your eyelids began to droop again, you felt his hand grace your cheek, sliding down your back and lifting you towards him once more and he leaned his head back and waited for the agency to retrieve its cold lost hero’s.
〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰
No, I don’t know where this came from, and no I didn’t edit it
