love is supposed to be the one thing a person is sure of, warm, safe, and grounding—but you discover it’s not that easy for you.
𖦹 overview ~ bakugo x reader. angst. tatbilb inspired. i am lara jean, lara jean is me.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Loving Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t supposed to happen.
Like many things, love grows in ways you don’t expect it to. Warm, tingly, and undeniably confusing.
It wraps itself in the disguise of your emotion, waiting for you to acknowledge it—just at the right moment to make it seem like it came out of nowhere.
But really? It’s been flourishing all along, fed by memories, moments, and seemingly friendly conversations.
But friendly conversations turn into charged converstations.
Conversations where every prolonged glance, every word, and every moment where your shoulders are so close to brushing—you can practically feel your electrons vibrating.
Every single time—your heart thumps wildly, heat soars through your body, and every time you try to supress it? It comes back even harder.
You snap back into reality when something lands in your lap. Raising a brow and glancing down, your fingers curl around a peanut butter protein bar.
“Here,” a familiar blonde grunts, taking a swig of his water bottle before launching himself onto the couch next to you. “This is your damn favourite. Happy?”
You feel your heart clench in your chest. That is, before it gets replaced by the bitter taste of your repression.
You clear your throat.
“Thanks, Bakugo.”
There’s silence. An unusual silence.
Not awkward, just.. tense.
He takes a deep breath.
You cross your legs.
It’s impossible to think straight when his arm is stretched across the back of the sofa—inches away from your skin. When his body is so close to yours, you can smell rich caramel and lavender. A scent you’ve been forcing yourself to hate.
“You never call me that.” His gaze stays fixed on the air infront of him, but you catch his jaw clenching in your peripheral.
“..Your name?”
“You never call me that name.”
You want to touch him. You want to do what you’ve been wanting to do for two years.
You want to grab his beautiful face and kiss him until his lips are swollen and you physically can’t anymore.
But your body shivers in fear, because you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t be loved.
Bakugo’s arm retreats back to his centre. You watch him rub his jaw with one hand, then click his tounge before inhaling sharply.
“Are you fuckin’ mad because I wanted to warm your hands up after training yesterday?” His gaze snaps to you as the dreaded words come out. “It was nearly freezing. You were shaking. It was nothing.”
The truth was; you’d been thinking about it all night.
The chilly air had blew crisp in your face as the two of you stepped out of the training gym.
You were doing all you could to focus on the lingering smell of damp leaves and moss instead of him. His scent. His presence.
It was too strong.
You shivered, your cheeks already turning a rosy tint.
Your head was swarming with thoughts, of getting stronger, of new moves, but mostly.. of him.
Bakugo barked at you to stop walking. You did. He reached for your hands, which were freezing at your fingertips.
It was so unlike him. Your eyes widened, your shoulders tensed, and before you even realised what you were doing—you snatched your hands out of his grip.
It wasn’t fair. You hated how your mind made decisions against your heart, because in reality—you wanted more than anything to allow this, to let him take care of you.
But that little voice inside you whispered that you didn’t deserve care. You didn’t deserve love, and you never would.
Now, his stare is harsh, like he’s waiting—waiting for the explanation he deserves. An explanation you can’t give.
“No,” you whisper, heart hammering against your ribs. “No! I’m not mad, really! I just—it was sudden, and I wasn’t expecting it—!”
“Yeah? And you run away like your damn life depends on it?” He leans foward, the weight of his eyes boring into you settling low in your stomach.
You look down. Half in shame, half so he doesn’t see the pool of tears you’re trying to desperately blink away.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, picking your lip as if it can save you from the truth.
An uncomfortable heaviness settles in the air. Thicker now than ever before, like something was about to snap.
Bakugo rakes a hand through his hair aggressively, cursing, because what else was there to say?
“..Fuck.” He growls, voice raw, muffled against his wrist.
“Y/N. I don’t do this shit for anyone else. I.. Fuck—I like you, and you know it! So what games are you playing?!” He snaps, eyes desperate—even when you still refuse to look at him.
His voice cracks, broken; “That look in you get in your eyes.? That’s not nothing, I’m not fucking stupid!!” His knee is bouncing now—up and down, up and down.
“One second you look at me like—“ He cuts himself off, inhaling shakily, “..like you’re seeing me, not like how everyone else does. Like I’m not just a dumbass who blows shit up. Then the next, like you’re afraid of me. I don’t understand you!”
“I’m not afraid of you!!” You shriek, finally finding your voice. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, wipe your tears, then fist the fabric of your hoodie at your chest.
“I’m afraid of how much I love you.”
The room goes still. Bakugo’s knee stops bouncing. You stop breathing for a moment, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your heart did too.
“And I’m afraid of how much I shouldn’t.”
For once, Bakugo doesn’t speak. You search his face for a tell of emotion, but he just squints his eyes at you as if he looks closer, he might be able to find the answers to all of his unanswered questions.
“Love—” You start, pausing for a second to find the right words, “love is something I like to read in stories, I like to write about it, and make stuff up in my head—but.. when it’s real..”
Bakugo furrows his brows, looking annoyed but almost as if he’s trying to understand. “..What?! It’s scary?”
You nod, your throat tightening the more you look at his face. “Yeah.”
“Why? Why the fuck is that scary!?”
“Because the more people you let into your life, the more that can just.. walk right out.” Your voice quivers, looking down at your lap—eyes landing on a familiar protein bar.
You stand up. Slowly, meaningfully, and brush yourself off.
Then, without fully thinking—you gently toss the bar toward the usually explosive and confident boy, who now looked defeated on the couch beneath you.
“I really am sorry, Katsuki.”
You walk away from him again. From the one person you’ve ever loved. The one boy you lost to your greatest enemy—your own mind.
