Pairing/content: romantic Quaritch x Mangkwan!Reader, familial Spider x Mangkwan!Reader. Quaritch introduces his new/gifted mate to his son-expecting the worse but being met with the best
Spoilers/notes: feed the voices feed the voices feed the voices. I can’t resist anymore I MUST
•it had been mere weeks after you and Quaritch officially mated with Varang’s blessing. he cant lie and say he's not enjoyed it ❀
•in recent days his son,Spider, had been captured again under his watch only to be carted off for test after test because he was able to breathe Pandora’s air without choking on it-from what he's heard and been able to see his boy has been giving them hell ❀
•at first he wasn't sure how to explain that the son he's talked about isn't na’vi at all but some newly mutated human from a situation ship he had when he was human ❀
•he had expected hostility or disgust or even outright hatred but not this ❀
•not you sitting in your shared yurt weaving and carving gifts for a boy you've never met insisting “i cannot meet my son without gifts-they need to be perfect ma Miles”❀
•from armbands to chokers to loincloths you were more than ready to spoil your new son rotten from the second you lay eyes on him ❀
•“Sugar, not that he wouldn't appreciate it-but ain't this a bit much? might overwhelm him off the jump” only his words fall on deaf ears as you work on fixing meals safe for consumption and his own sleeping spot in the yurt-he doesn't even want to start explaining how the chances of the science pukes letting him out of their sights is near impossible ❀
•but you look so happy. such genuine laughter and smiles as you both sit at the fire in your shared home, your even more affectionate with him since he brought up the possibility of bringing you on base to meet Spider face to face, looking at him like he strung up the stars for you ❀
•Varang had lightly mentioned you'd lost a child when your hometree burned,that you lost your mate. the second Varang had showed him off to you like a prized pony it had been infatuation at first site for you ❀
•he was strong, provided immensely for the clan, already had a child of his own, he was handsome it truly went on and on. if wasn't such a hardened bastard he probably would've been blushing as Varang went on the more and more you seemed to obsess over him ❀
•he cant lie that he was flattered by how into him you were (he likes em crazy…same bro-who said that??) ❀
•Once the clan was moved to live on base it became harder and harder to keep your enthusiasm at bay ❀
•You’d scuttle back and forth the new tent with a vigor he’d had yet to see before ❀
•The idea that your new son was merely a building away ramped up your ministrations ten fold ❀
•So when he finally brought you to where Spider was being held he knew the hell fire that would occur when you found out your boy was attacked by all manner of tubes, or ‘plastic vines’ as you called them, that were hooked up and into him all while he was poked and prodded like some display rather than a living thing… ❀
•He knew you wouldn’t be happy but he wasn’t expecting just how willing you were to straight up break the equipment ❀
•Spider had been escorted back to his ‘room’ which was little more than an interrogation room with a glass window between him and those white coats.But he could see when Quaritch entered with you in tow ❀
•You stood out like a silver thorn in a bed of feathers. White, red and black while dressed in points and spikes with a basket on your hip as you stood tall beside his technically dad ❀
•You were looking to and throw with those wide eyes of your (acting like you hadn’t tore multiple wires and tubes apart when the Colonel told you what they were used for) all while pawing at Quaritch whispering to him growing more and more insistent while he spoke to the scientists ❀
•He couldn’t hear what was said but from how he gestured to you with his head when talking to them and how your stared at them unblinkingly with a barely concealed hiss on your lips he could tell it must’ve had something to do with him when the doctors stood down and aside ❀
•You practically skipped after Quaritch, his hand on your hip when he guided you to Spider’s room, with your tail whipped back and forth as the door opened with a quiet swish ❀
•He instinctively placed himself so the table was between him and you two but that did little since you immediately hopped on the table and crouch hop/walk towards him until you jumped down next to him with what he could only describe as a joyous grin ❀
•Quaritch had tried to grab your arm to stop you but uhhh…yea no you were gone the second his hand left your hip to close the door ❀
•Setting the basket down on the table quickly your hands came up to his face-flinching and closing his eyes by habit he prepared for literally anything else except what you did ❀
•Your fingers first grazed his cheeks so lightly he almost didn’t feel them, then your palms slid to cradle his face so gently. Your hold was…kind. Sweet almost ❀
•When he hesitantly opened his eyes he was met with your watery ones and your smile as you moved your head around to look at him from every angle-like he was something beautiful ❀
•“Ma itan” your voice came out low and fragile, bringing one hand from his face to your mouth covering it. “Oh-you are beautiful”❀
•He felt confused until Quaritch spoke up with a groan when he sat himself on the edge of the table near the pair your “meet your stepmom kid.long story”❀
•Spider didn’t have a chance to snap at his dad before you turned your attention to the basket you had brought-Quaritch stepped out with a “you two get bonding. The white coats ain’t gonna be happy bout this” and the door closed in his wake ❀
•You had a hum in your throat as you pulled out what looked and smelled like jerky of some sort, you pushed it into his hands-he hesitated to eat it worried about what kind of meat it was ❀
•“Angtsik ma itan-hunted myself. Eat eat, they do not feed you right-look at them” you hissed and snapped at the air with a swish of your head in the direction of the window “small and weak. They do not feed you-“you turned your eyes back to him as he took a hesitant bite but quickly took more, thankfull for some actual flavour outside of the god awful rations he was given ❀
•“you are strong-growing. You need the right food-stupid tiny men. The ones in those metal skeletons-would not let me bring you a proper meal. Tch-stupid. Jerky was easy to hide” he just stared at you as you spoke in chopped English. You were most certainly missing a couple pebbles short of a river bank but…❀
•You weren’t malicious ❀
•He could see it in your eyes,your smile and how you ghosted your hand over his face but not quite touching him ❀
•“You will enjoy your home-your bed is already in the perfect spot. Not to close to fire but not to far from entrance, you will not overheat or catch a chill” ❀
•He did scoff at that “getting them to let me out of here is ätxäle si palulukanur tsnì smarit livonu (asking a thanator to release its prey/a futile attempt)” at his grumbling you tilted your head with a furrow on your face ❀
•“I kill them?” He was caught off guard by how genuine the question was-like you had offered him the larger cut of meat at dinner-he coughed on his snack making you lurch forward to rub his back ❀
•“No-no no, that wouldn’t uh-I mean your tsahìk wouldn’t be happy with you making waves with the humans right?” That got you on board (however reluctant) “hmm. You are right…ah-you are so smart, you will make a brilliant warrior” your apparently spout mood evaporated like smoke into the air as you cradled his face once more ❀
•The moment was broken by the door opening again, there stood Quaritch with a couple anxious looking scientists tailing him “alright sugar, time to split” you let out an offended noise “I have barely spoken to him! I still have not asked how he would like his paint-“ you cur yourself off when a scientist made the stupid move to grab Spider by the arm ❀
•The pair of you hissed at them, one more intimidating than the other though not by much, you lurched forward and the only thing that saved the idiot was Miles just valley being able to grab your arm to pull you back “oookay-easy spitfire. We’ll come back again tomorrow,how’s that sound?” One of the white coats looked like they wanted to say something against him but the already agitated Mangkwan woman who looked moments away from wrenching herself out the Colonel’s hold and mawling one of them was enough to keep their mouths shut tight ❀
•Back in your shared tent you were laying on Quaritch’s chest purring and rubbing your face against his neck, he must’ve earned some brownie points in getting you that meeting and promising another so soon ❀
•Spider sat on the table in his ‘room’…it wasn’t so cold now he had the cloak you had made for him. It was surprisingly soft and had a faint smell of smoke and burnt wood ❀
•It felt safe. ❀
•He laid down under the table with the blanket you had woven and for the first time since he was captured…he actually slept without waking up at the smallest noise ❀
Tags: IM SO SORRY I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT TAGGING😭
One of my favorite aroace experiences is when I explain my identity to straight people for the first time and they go “Mmmm, I dunno, though, I don’t think you really count as LGBTQ.”
Like, ma’am… on the list of people who can tell me whether I do or don’t belong at Pride, you rank only slightly higher than the federal government, so-
Clodsire coffee jelly with a little surprise on top! ☕🍒
Felt like they were missing something so I added a Cheri Berry at the end - immediately made me laugh, look at my boy 😭 Hopefully Saiki K. would be proud.
summary: zimm's nerves about his first doctor's appointment
tags: fluff, so much fluff, read part one!, rocky and adrian do not appreciate leaky space blobs, family fluff, kid fic, first words
a/n: love you all!!! this was request by @sporkupine12 under the last part and a few other people in the reblogs so enjoy!
divider cred: me!
The false sunlight of the biopdome begins to filter through the window, and you watch with an affectionate smile as Zimm slowly wakes, stretching out clumsily. Ryland shifts as the weight on his chest moves, eyes fluttering open as he glances between the two of you with a smile. “G’morning.” His voice comes out raspy with sleep, making you grin and curl closer.
“Hi…” Your lips meet his, and Zimm lets out a displeased noise at the sight, making the two of you pull away with a laugh. The moment is interrupted by a pounding on the door, making your smile grow. “It’s open!”
Two xenonite suits echo through the house before Rocky and Adrian step into the space, watching your family. “How is Zimmer?” Rocky asks, making you grin and gently lift Zimm from Ryland’s chest, settling the small alien on your shoulder.
“He’s doing wonderful.” You feel Ryland’s arms move to wrap around your middle, face smushed against your back.
“Eridians would like to take Zimmer for a doctor checkup. Promise no extreme tests, just want to make sure Zimmer is ok.” You look over your shoulder as Grace perks up, grabbing his glasses off the beside table.
“That sounds fine.” You feel Grace nod against your shoulder. The aliens communicate, and you feel Zimmer shirk in fear against the side of your neck, a whine-like noise leaving his carapace. Matching frowns paint your and Grace’s faces, and you reach up to softly stroke one of the small legs.
“Zimmer is scared, statement.” Rocky lets out, making you nod.
“Doctors can be scary. Especially because Grace and I can’t come.” You murmur, Grace’s warm hand against your side.
“Zimmer will be taken care of very well. Adrian promise and be there whole time. Will bring back to home.” You nod slowly, taking Zimm from your shoulder and bringing the alien face-to-face. Unpleasant tones leave the small creature, making you frown.
“I know it’s scary, my love… it’ll be ok. It’ll be fast, and Grace and I will be right here waiting.” You gently pet Zimm’s back carapace, the one you found most soothing when touched.
“Mommy and daddy will be right here.” Grace murmurs, reaching up to gently grasp one of Zimm’s claws. A long silence follows before Zimm lets out a defeated sound mixed with what you had come to recognize as a cry. “M’sorry…”
“Will take now. Will be safe. Promise.” Adrian purrs, making you raise a brow.
“I thought Eridians never promised.”
“Promise important to safety and human family.”
“Thank you, Adrian.” You gently hand Zimmer off to the Eridian couple, gently waving them off. You can’t help but tuck yourself into Grace’s chest, covering your ears to drown out Zimm’s retreating cries.
“It’s the same as if we took a human baby to the doctor. The shots are the worst for us to watch, but the most necessary for the baby. Just remember you’re keeping him safe, alright? You love him enough to keep him safe and healthy.” You nod slowly, feeling a few tears fall down your cheeks.
“I hate when he cries.” Grace pulls back at the weakness in your voice, frowning and moving to wipe your cheeks.
“Me too. Me too.” He huffs, pulling you back into his chest and laying both of you down.
◈
The second the door opens, you swiftly stand from the bed, finding the three Eridians in the doorway. “♩♫♪𝅘𝅥𝅰!” Gasps leave you and Ryland, equally surprised noises leaving the Eridians.
“Did he just–”
“Zimm!” You grin. “Say it again, say it again!”
“♩♫♪𝅘𝅥𝅰!” A sob leaves Grace’s lips as you lift the baby alien into your arms.’
“Is Eridan word for mother!” Rocky squeals happily, making you nod as tears fall down your cheeks, Zimmer pressing happily into your chest.
“It sure is, pal.” Ryland sniffles, bringing both of you into his arms, forehead falling to your shoulder. Another word leaves Zimmer, making you give a sympathetic smile.
“It was scary, hm? Didn’t like the doctor?” You pacify gently. His carapace shakes in your hand.
“With mommy and daddy!” Another heavy sob is ripped from Grace’s lips, and you can’t help but smile at the disgust radiating off Adrian and Rocky before they shuffle out of the house. “Want lunch!” Laughs echo out from the three of you.
‼️🚩Beware!! Let your followers know of this scam, stay safe x
they go as far as writing their own posts for a while, pretend to be your mutual, even engaging in dms before 'urgently needing your help'. I've seen a post from last year with the same scam. REPORT THIS ACCOUNT!
and what is with yall and generating ai slop for your avatar fics…and why are they always fucking pregnant
the concept of using something like AI for a movie franchise like avatar?? how unaware can we get?? YOU’RE LAZY AND UNORIGINAL YOU AND YOUR PREGNANCY KINK BITCH!!!
I scrolled past this without second thought. Paused. Thought, wait, I've never seen a crane on the road. Scrolled back up. No answers. Typed this response, then noticed the book's author. What a whirlwind
Jack Dorsey funded this with his nonprofit AndOtherStuff. The home page for the organization explicitly lists AI as one of its pillars, saying a goal is "making NOSTR the best social protocol for open source AI development and implementation"
A collaborative Nostr funding initiative to develop strategic pillars for the Nostr ecosystem
What is open source AI?
It's a program that publicly shares its code for free online, so that anyone can use it for themselves. This means that anything this AI is trained on could eventually make its way into any business, social media site, etc. That uses this code. Or, if not, it'll have the ability to harvest content as well as this.
Even since the app doesn't allow AI openly on the videos themselves, the app is likely to use our original content to train its AI. You might have seen that some AI have experienced a positive feedback loop of declining quality, training itself on other AI slop until anything it produces is unintelligible.
This is likely an attempt to prevent that in video format
Then, any other company that wants to use the code can use this better trained AI to make it even harder to recognize AI across the board.
You can read about the connection to AndOtherStuff, as well as the developers' reasons for the project here:
Jack Dorsey backs diVine, a Vine reboot that includes Vine's video archive of six-second, looping videos. A new app called diVine will give
TLDR; do not give Jack Dorsey any credit for this, do not download the app, and tell others not to either. It's a nostalgia-bait attempt at fueling another AI model
contents: fluff, reader is hit with an amnesia quirk
no smut november
"The fuck you mean she got hit with a Quirk?" Bakugo snaps into the phone.
The doctor sighs across the line. "Sir, please calm down. She's fine; she simply needs to wait for the effects to wear off. She's stable if you'd like to come visit."
He clenches his teeth. You weren't even supposed to be on patrol today. But when you watched him climb out of bed and pull on his costume, you just smiled and got up with him. "If you're going in," you said, arms wrapped around his shoulders and your body pressed against his, "then I guess I will, too. Don't want to just sit here missing you all day."
And now you don't remember anything past middle school?
His heart clenches in his chest as he hangs up and heads to the hospital. If that's the case, then you won't even remember him. You didn't meet until you started at UA, and even then it took you years to fall into each other instead of pushing each other away.
It aches to think that he might lose that.
But the doctor said the effects are temporary. So he just tries to shove off his concerns as he walks towards your hospital room. His boots fall heavy on the linoleum, and several patients, family members, and even staff watch him go by, whispering to each other about Dynamight in their hospital.
He ignores them and walks on by, shoving his way into your room.
There you lie, covers pulled up over your chest, watching some anime on the television. Your eyes slowly slide from the screen to find him, shutting the door behind him.
"Hey," he greets gruffly. He's not really sure what else to say.
Your eyes widen, and you take your time looking him over, from the top of his spiky hair down to the toes of his combat boots. You tilt your head to the side. "Are you a hero?"
He scoffs. "What's it look like, idiot?" He comes over and drags a chair to your bedside, plopping down into it. "You're one, too, if they haven't told you."
You just blink at him. Then you blink again. "What are you doing here? Don't the police handle interviews and stuff; why would a hero want to talk to me about the attack—?"
He rolls his eyes and leans forward in his chair, grabbing your jaw in one hand. The way you look so surprised, with your lips puckered and squished by his hand… He lifts his eyes to yours. "I'm your damn boyfriend, moron," he grumbles, before pushing your head affectionately away. He leans back in his seat again.
There's a moment where he feels a spike of apprehension, that you somehow won't want him near you after he behaved like that. That, since you don't recognize him, you won't want him to touch you, to look at you, to even be in your damn hospital room until you recover.
Your eyes widen again, and it's almost comical, the expression on your face. "You're saying I bagged you?" you ask incredulously. "You're, like… super hot!"
He barks a rough laugh, crossing his arms across his chest. "Damn right," he mutters.
You go starry-eyed, and you perk up in the hospital bed, blankets falling around your waist. His heart does a funny little twist at the sight of you, still looking so fragile in your hospital gown. "How did we meet?" you ask.
So he spends the afternoon telling your story back to you. And all the while, as he watches you enraptured by the story of your relationship, he finds himself falling further and further in love with you.
a/n- first time writing for bkg in over a year, i missed my boy :3
“Get over here,” Bakugou said, glaring at you from across the bed. You had nearly scooched towards the edge of the mattress, dangerously close to falling off.
“You’re like a heater…” you whined. “No more cuddling for one night. Please?”
“WHAT?!” Bakugou looked like you told him to go jump off of a cliff. “The heat is not that bad! Just get over here!”
“No…”
You turned your back to him, hoping for a peaceful night’s rest. Oh how wrong you were.
Bakugou shuffled over to your side of the bed, muttering complaints as he finally reached your back.
He shook your shoulder gently. “Cuddle me.”
“Katsuki… no…”
Bakugou sighed.
“…Please?” His tone was surprisingly vulnerable. “If I take my shirt off, will that help? Just don’t wanna sleep alone without ya…”
You groaned cutely. “Fine, fine.”
He whipped off his shirt and you rolled into his strong arms. He exhaled contentedly, his face digging into your hair for comfort.
“This wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bakugou asked, his smile pressing into your head.
“If I die from overheating, it’s your fault. Remember that, sweetie.”
Dragged into therapy, handed a journal and stuck with a counselor who can literally read his emotions, Katsuki Bakugou is supposed to write about his days, his nightmares, and “process his feelings.”
Fine. He’ll write. But he’s not going to admit anything out loud — especially not about you.
So instead you end up showing up between the lines of his journal: the girl Aizawa apparently thinks is his “girlfriend,” the one Todoroki can’t stop orbiting, the one he swears he only “tolerates.” The one he’s been running from since the Sports Festival.
And the longer he writes, the harder it gets to pretend you’re just another name in this shitty notebook.
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a/n- hihihi!! this if my first time posting on tumblr kinda scared…..
can you tell i love dialogue? Lmfao
This was the hardest chapter to write tbh 😭 and i highkey forgot abt this fic for like 6 months 💔
BUT im going to try and post daily!!! It's supposed to be katsukis journal so until I have to because of the plot, I'll post everyday with (maybe) a long chap every weekend!
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Katsuki has always tolerated you.
Tolerated you in a way that made him think things like, “Oh, I wanna marry her one day,” or “Why is she always looking at that half-and-half bastard like he’s the only guy in the damn school?”
He doesn’t even remember when he started seeing you like that.
Well… until right before he died in the war.
When he saw you run up to his half-dead body and hold him while sobbing.
Or when you helped him find the words to say to Deku when they finally found him.
Or when you performed that duet with Ears during the cultural festival.
Or when you kept him updated on school while he was stuck under house arrest, or dragging himself through those shitty supplementary classes.
Or at the training camp.when you formed a group to save him after he got kidnapped.
Or during the final exams when-
Yeah…
I take it back.
Katsuki knew he’s loved liked, not tolerated you since the Sports Festival.
When you looked him dead in the eye, shoved the medal at his chest, and told him to “get a fucking grip” and to “just take the damn medal.”
And he did.
Katsuki Bakugou listened to you.
He accepted the medal, even after fighting back so hard they had to muzzle him.
Yeah… he’s known he’s liked you since then.
yet he’s done nothing about it.
He was a fool.
A lovesick one.
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That brings us to now.
He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be dragged into some wellness check like he was fragile. He was Katsuki Bakugou—he survived a war, didn’t he?
But apparently, that didn’t mean shit to the school board. Or to his mom, who was currently driving him to U.A.’s counseling building.
“Remind me again why I have to do this?” he asked, tearing his gaze from the window.
“I told you already,” Mitsuki said, making a sharp turn into the parking lot. “U.A. requires a full wellness check for all students involved in combat operations. You’re not the only one. Izuku had his last week. Went fine, according to Inko.”
She pulled into a spot and put the car in park. “We’re here, brat. For the love of All Might, please don’t make a bad impression. You’re going to be seeing her for the rest of your time at ua.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he muttered, grabbing the handle.
“Katsuki?” she called.
“yeah?”He paused, looking over his shoulder.
“Love you.”
He blinked at her, a frown slowly forming on his face. “…Love you too, hag.”
She laughed. “Even after coming back to life, it still takes everything in you to show you care.”
“No it doesn’t.”
“Oh yeah? Then why haven’t you told that (L/n) girl you love her yet?”
“fuck off” he said, walking off, ears getting redder.
“you didnt deny it!” mitsuki laughed watching him go.
and Katsuki didn’t say anything, just flipped her off and entered the building.
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“so, tell me a bit about yourself” Dr sayuri - his assigned therapist said, clicking her pen and opening her notebook
katsuki groaned “why do i have to do this, you probably have everything ‘bout me in that shitty notebook already”
“but i want to hear it from you, even if i have it in my “shitty notebook”” she replied, raising an eyebrow
“fucking fine, my name’s bakugo katsuki, im 17 years old, and im the fucking best.” he answered, puffing up his chest.
“so the fucking best with anger issues?”
“HA??? I DONT HAVE ANY SHITTY ANGER ISSUES” he yelled standing up.
“yeah, yeah, you dont, sit down please”
“why the hell do you even think that?”
“it says it in my shitty notebook” sayuri said with a smile “bakugou katsuki- 17, in hero course class a, has terrible anger management, until recently has problems with fellow class mate izuku midorya and-“
Katsuki cut her off “okay fine i may have problems with my anger but im getting better, move on.”
“ Now the main reason you’re here- are you okay, Katsuki? you died, it must have taken alot out of you.”
“m’fine” katsuki said after a while, “im here aren’t i”
“Yes you are, and trust me we are all happy you’re here” the older woman said with a smile.
“Tch youre making me sound like im suicidal or something”
“Thats not what I'm saying, and you know that” she replied with a smile “how are your friends doing? Have they all recovered yet”
“Uh yeah. Ears just got a check up last week and pikachu dragged me for food the other day”
“Ears? Pikachu??”
“Kyoka jiro and denki kaminari” he clarified
“Oh okay” she mused, writing in her notebook
“And ejiro and mina are still the same. Eji cant stop ranting about how perfect she is, its annoying.”
“How so?”
“He brings up how she’s his girlfriend in every damn conversation. Gets irritating. And don’t get me started on Pink Cheeks and Izuku—they make me sick.”
“Pink cheeks?”
“Oh uraraka.”
“Okay. Anyone else?” Sayuri said with a tilt of her head.
The boy scowled, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Sero is fine, ive been hanging out with him and the guys more. Todoroki thinks we're best friends- which we’re not, I can't stand the guy. and he can't stop following Y/n around.”
“Whos y/n? And what's it to you if Todoroki hangs out with her?”
Katsuki turned away grumbling “check your shitty notebook, since it has everything on me”
“Okay” the woman said, flipping through her book. “ Here it is, Bakugou slowly has been opening up to his classmates, especially y/n l/n- his girlfriend, Ejiro Kirishima and Izuku Midoriya. Oh i get it, youre jealous” she added with a smile
“HAAA? I'M NOT JEALOUS! AND Y/N ISNT MY GIRLFRIEND WHO TOLD YOU THAT?”
“My notebook” she smillied “everything in here was written by your teacher”
“AIZAWA WROTE THIS BULSHIT? He barked, standing up”
“Calm down, Katsuki.” Sayuri raised her free hand in a slow-down gesture. “I’ll change it if it’s not correct. But if Aizawa is assuming this about your relationship with Y/N, the two of you must be very close.”
Katsuki dropped back into the chair with a thud. “Yeah… I guess we are,” he muttered, looking away, ears turning red
“Youre blushing katsuki” sayuri pointed out
“No im not”
She sighed “do you like her?”
“No” he grumbled
“Yes he does,” Sayuri wrote in her notebook “okay lets get into why youre here” she grabbed a book from her bag, same as hers in red “you know what a journal is right?” she said passing the book to him
“Yeah i do” katsuki replied, taking it
“Well, that’s what this is. I want you to write entries right before you go to bed, just recounting your day.”
“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” he deadpanned.
“Katsuki, just do it. It’ll help you process what happened in the war.”
“I’m processing fine,” he muttered.
Sayuri started,Flipping through her notebook “since the war, bakugou has been suffering from nightmares and panic attacks, as reported from his parents, mistsuki and masaru bakugou.”
“Im gonna kill them” he hissed
“Please dont do that. Your hero career would end early” she smiled. “katsuki you’ll have to write in the journal, the school requested you do this.”
“If it makes you feel better, I would read it, unless you give me permission to, and you dont have to write in it everyday, just 3 times a week would be fine” She added reassuringly
“Then how would you know if i wrote in it?
“My quirk, i can read emotions, so i can tell when your lying
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Fine, I’ll write in the shitty notebook,” he muttered, shoving it into his bag.
“Thank you, Katsuki. On the first page there’s a guide showing how I’d like you to write it,” she explained.
He slung the bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, whatever.”
Sayuri closed her notebook with a soft snap and stood. “That’s all for today. Same time next week?”
“Tch. Guess I don’t have a choice,” he grumbled, pushing back his chair.
“Not really,” she said with a little smile. “But you might actually find it helps.”
“Doubt it,” he muttered, already heading for the door.
“Katsuki?”
He stopped at the door, glancing back.
“Again, we’re all glad you’re here. Really.”
For half a second his scowl softened. “…Yeah. Me too,” he said, then yanked the door open, walking out
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ENTRY NO.1
Saturday, September 27th, 20XX
Title: shitty notebook
I dont know why I'm writing this, I'm fine.
School starts monday i just finished packing and im moving my stuff with ejiro tomorrow
im going to se y/
Fuck.
Im seeing y/n again tomorrow.
Havent seen her since the hospital, her parents overreacted and didnt let her out the entire summer
Are we actually close enough for Aizawa to think we’re dating?????
I mean hes observant as fuck
is there a chance she might see me as more than a fri-
Summary: You work under Hawks' agency and decided to pull a small prank on him by changing his phone wallpaper
Pair: Hawks x F!Reader
Genre: Fluff, or whatever you believe in
Words count: 870 (wow, i finally write something more than 200 words)
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Hawks can be an unpredictable person, though when he's on camera he always showing off his outgoing attitude with that handsome smile. His life is very private. Nobody really knows who he's interested in, who he's dating, or even who his partner is. Everyone can only assume. Even you, who's been working under him for almost a year, are surprised by how closed he is to others—a contrast to how he appears in interviews.
As a new hero, you planned to work under him for a while, hoping to gain valuable experience from pro-hero number 3. I mean, not only he's strong, intelligent both emotionally and logistically, he also reached top 10 charts at the age of eighteen. Plus, he's hot handsome, totally a win-win.
But it turns out, most of your work only involved making reports on the hero work he's quickly completed. Oh well, when he's generous, he'll take you on patrol with two other workers, and you'll be tasked with cleaning up what he's done.
Today is different. Hawks is bringing you and an intern named Fumikage Tokoyami to complete an important mission, and this is the first time. So you're very excited.
After all the chaos has settled, the police have arrived to conduct an in-depth investigation with a special team. Among the rubble, you and Tokoyami are tasked with searching for any civilians that are affected by the impact.
Suddenly, Hawks called you and tossed you his phone.
"Help me take some photos for the reports, i have to talk to the police team. Also, the passcode is xxxx."
Without even waiting for your reply, he left to meet with the investigation team, making you sighed.
"I didn't even get the chance to answer."
And it's not like you have any other choice anyway.
You do as you're told, taking a few photos here and there, making sure you've captured all the information needed for the report. Half an hour has passed, and your legs were starting to ache, meaning it's time to return to Hawks and hand him back his phone.
Until finally, a mischief idea came up to you—perhaps you just want to surprised him or even taught him a lesson. You open his phone again, this time opening the camera and aiming it at the perfect angle to capture your entire face with your tongue sticking out. You quickly tap the settings button on the photo and set it as his phone wallpaper.
You know he'll scold you later, but you believe it'll all be worth it.
You quickly closed the photo, erased all evidence of your deceit, and then locked the phone.
"Now we just wait.."
When you returned to him, you found him still busy chatting with the investigation team. So when you returned his phone, he doesn't suspect a thing and immediately put it in his jacket.
Three weeks have passed, and you've forgotten about the incident. You think he just doesn't care and has changed them back to his old wallpaper because he didn't even reprimand you.
You're in your room, scrolling through your phone for the latest hot tea until you came across a trending hashtag on X.
Hawks' girlfriend
28.7K posts
That made your eyes widened, shocked and curious. When you open the hashtag, many are speculating and even assuming about Hawks' "girlfriend." Is she a model? an actress? Or maybe a pro hero too? Someone even created a thread about these highly believable theories.
All these questions arose three days ago after a paparazzi account captured Hawks scrolling through his phone while waiting for his burger to be ready. And things escalated after his interview yesterday, which was then quoted by numerous accounts, excerpting parts of the video, making you even more curious.
"What's really wrong with that photo? Is he waiting for his girlfriend or what?"
Finally, you watched a 24-seconds video clips of his interview from one random account.
As usual, he's looking all good in his casual clothes, sitting next to the host with that laid-back smile. In the video, the host mentioned his photo that went viral the previous day, making his smile widened.
You tried to get a better look, eventually zooming in so that the photo fits the entire screen.
But the realization hit harder when the host was actually talking about the person in his wallpaper.
The person who stuck out her tongue at the camera, unaware that her little prank would go viral.
HUH
"The person in the wallpa—? WAIT THAT'S ME"
But it's been three freaking weeks, even you completely forgot about it, and yet HE DIDN'T CHANGE IT?
"What was he thinking?!" You grumbled under your breath, your hands tightening to the pillow you're holding. You just know that it will only be a matter of time before someone to find your social media.
He didn't even answer, he just smirked with golden eyes gleaming with amusement. The host seemed to understand the situation so he leaned in with a sly grin, wondering if they could get a closer look.
And without thinking twice, he opened his phone and showed it to the camera.
after moving into a modest apartment complex, the last thing you expected was to discover that your grumpy, sharp-tongued neighbor is none other than dynamight, the notoriously explosive pro-hero himself. what begins as casual elevator chats and the occasional help with groceries takes a turn when a date gone wrong leaves you in tears outside the building, and him stepping in without hesitation. from there, a burning connection unfolds.
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────── warning
afab! reader, no smut; just a hint of something spicy. adult! characters, pro-hero bakugou, soft pining, romance, grumpy-meets-sunshine trope; strangers to lovers romance trope. neighbor! reader & neighbor! bakugou. extreme sweetness; heavy fluff, with a dose of comedic charm, impromptu warmth and a hint of sarcasm.
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────── inspired by this wonderful art by @miggiisdumb follow and support, her work is great.
To put it quite frankly, you had been on the fence about moving to an entirely different city after a year of preparing for a promising career change. Not because you weren’t appreciative of the opportunity—this had been the greatest thing to have happened since graduating from college—but because it was an experience that came with significant change.
Adaptation wasn’t the issue here. Committing to an environment where you knew nobody else, is.
The feeling isn’t entirely unfamiliar. It just took a few weeks, give or take, to fully accept. But once it settled, you were more than ready to dive in, headfirst.
And thankfully, the apartment complex you chose was magnificent, modest, but absolutely stunning. It certainly made the pill easier to swallow. Especially now, with the incredible salary increase, you could finally afford something more comfortable; at least by your standards. It had only been a few days since you moved in, settling into a corner unit just beneath a set of condos that luxuriously occupied the top floor.
With hardly any time between moving everything in and attempting to get situated, you hadn’t even purchased groceries. Which is why you were currently standing in the lobby, half-asleep, hoodie lopsided, flip-flops smacking against the tile; waiting patiently for the elevator, arms heavy with crinkling plastic bags from a convenience store run at two in the morning. Perhaps going this late had been a mistake, or possibly a stroke of genius. It was hard to tell when you were juggling three packs of instant ramen, a bag of sour gummies, some chips, and two volumes of a shoujo manga you definitely didn’t need.
And as fate—or the universe, or some overworked celestial intern—would have it, this would be the exact moment you met the finest man in the entire complex. Perhaps the entire planet. While looking like you’d been rotting in bed since Tuesday.
They say first impressions are everything. A silent but lasting judgment, stamped onto you the moment someone lays eyes. And in this fleeting instant, it took less than a second for you to be seen as the resident weirdo. Which, clearly, wasn’t the kind of impression you’d hoped to leave on anyone outside of work. But lo’ and behold, it happened. Starting the moment the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. You stepped inside without so much a thought, more focused on not dropping anything than on checking your surroundings. Arms full and vision partially blocked by plastic bags, you fumbled to press the button for your floor, mumbling quiet curses under your breath.
Then, without a word, a hand reached out and pressed the button marked 9, the movement so swift you flinched, startled by the realization that you weren’t alone.
“Thanks,” you offered, flashing a polite smile over your shoulder.
That’s when you saw him.
A tall, really tall, man who had been built like a battering ram, standing just behind you, dressed head to toe in black tactical gear. His collar sat low on his neck, clinging to the sheen of sweat that slicked his skin. Damp blonde hair curled near his forehead, and the faint scent of smoke lingered in the narrow space between you. His eyes were a sharp crimson, shining brighter than rubies—as they flicked to you, unimpressed and dragging over you in a slow sweep that felt more like a judgment than a glance.
He didn’t say anything. Just stared.
And somehow, that said plenty.
With a sharp jawline and heavy-lidded eyes, he wore exhaustion like armor. It was a weariness that suggested the day had gone, at least, twelve rounds with him and almost won. If looks could kill, his would’ve cleared out a building. Or, at the very least, cause you to nearly drop every last one of your bags.
“Wait,” you blurted before your brain could catch up. “Aren’t you…?”
This question was self-explanatory and didn’t need an answer. You’d seen that face enough times on the news, splashed across headlines, or caught mid-detonation in grainy footage to know that he was, in fact, the Dynamight. One of the top pro-heroes in the country. A living explosion with a public temper and a hero license to match.
But up close with keys clenched between his teeth and a duffel bag sliding off one shoulder, he didn’t look like a menace.
Yes, he held an atypical scowl but he just looked tired.
And big. Definitely big.
Even slightly hunched under the weight of his gear, with gauntlets dangling from his other shoulder like boxing gloves, his biceps looked like they were on the verge of starting a fight with his sleeves.
“Tch,” his tongue clicks, side-eyeing you with perplexing precision. “Don’t tell me you’re a fan or some shit.”
“It’s hard not to be when you’re always on the news.”
That gets you a sharp snort as he shifts his weight onto one leg, arms crossed over his chest in that way that screams don’t get comfortable. The elevator hums softly around you, fluorescent lights flickering a little overhead. You swear the silence between floors drags a second too long.
“Yeah, well—,” he mutters, glancing at the elevator buttons like they’re the real enemy here. “People love watchin’ shit blow up.”
“That must make you a real box office hit.”
“Sure. Whatever you say,” he didn’t even look at you when he answered, voice low and edged with a bite—but there was a smugness under it too, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Just don’t go expectin’ any autographs.”
“I’d manage just fine. Though I’d probably make a pretty penny pawning off your signature.”
The quip earned you the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was almost fighting showing a glimpse of his teeth. Still it counts as a win, if you were keeping score. Knowing someone in the building—especially someone not totally allergic to conversation—might not be the worst thing.
“Real fuckin’ cute,” he mutters, more gruff and amused than flirty. “You always talk this much, or just when you’re stuck in a metal box with a pro?”
Lifting a brow, your arms tightening slightly around your grocery bags. “Only when said ‘pro’ nearly scares me into dropping three cups of instant ramen.”
His gaze flicks to the bags, then back to you. “At two in the goddamn morning?”
“I was hungry,” you shrug. “Hope that’s not a crime.”
He clicks his tongue again, but you catch the way his eyes narrow—not angry, more curious now. Maybe just squinting at the absurdity of this shared moment.
Then the elevator dings, sliding open on your floor. You move to step out, but his boots echo behind you.
“Hmm? Don’t tell me…”
He jerks his chin toward the hallway, “9C.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Yeah,” he mutters, striding ahead without so much as a glance back. “I’ve got enough shit to deal with, so try not to be another pain in my fuckin’ ass.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you say back, jaw slack with pure amusement. “And here I thought the worst thing about this city would be the traffic.”
He snorts, tossing a look over his shoulder, “Keep talkin’, smartass. I’ll have a noise complaint in before you even finish unpackin’.”
Then his hand lifts in a lazy wave as he slides his key into the lock, clearly at home and completely unbothered. The door shuts behind him with a decisive thunk. And despite yourself, you grin. Still standing in the hall with a bag full of junk food, and already one story deep into the chaos that is your new neighbor.
In Bakugou’s defense, none of this was ever meant to become a habit. But scientifically speaking, fate isn’t something he can regulate; it’s a force of nature with a will of its own. And lately, it’s been working overtime to make you a recurring fixture in his day. Sometimes, in the smallest, stickiest ways.
Each encounter usually starts with you catching the elevator doors with that slippered foot of yours, smiling up at him, chatting about nothing: bad office coffee, some new ramen place a few blocks down, how that damn mailman kept mixing their packages up. He never said much. Mostly watched. But sometimes he’d grunt in agreement, or pull an earbud out when you got particularly animated.
Sometimes, he even helped you carry your groceries—in those rare moments you’d actually went shopping—always wearing a scowl. Like it pissed him off how heavy the bags were. With all that muscle mass, they weren’t. But who would he be if he acted like he enjoyed it?
This time around, though, it was purely accidental. Completely uncalled for.
Another elevator run-in. With you, looking so fucking pretty, it is actually annoying, humming to yourself, laundry basket hitched at the hip in the lobby. And when the doors dinged open ahead, it felt like an angel had been revealed to the world.
He fucking hated it.
“Look at that,” you grinned, pulling an earbud out. “Fate strikes again.”
He didn’t even try to hide the annoyance, already jabbing the “door close” button like it owed him lunch money.
“Tch. More like bad fuckin’ luck.”
But you stepped into the elevator anyway, cheerful as ever. “Mm. Sure. Or maybe you’ve just got my schedule memorized.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered. “This dumb ass elevator just hates me.”
Adjusting the basket, you gave a soft huff, “Well, lucky for you, I come bearing fresh-dried towels and small talk.”
His eyes flickered down to the basket like it personally insulted him; and hell yeah it did. Because why the fuck are you carrying anything in his presence? “Give it here. You’re goin’ to throw your back out carrying that shit by yourself.”
“Should I thank you for caring so much about my spinal health?”
“Shut up,” he scoffed, reaching to take the basket from you with one hand like it weighed nothing. “Don’t make it weird.”
The snicker that came from those lips, plump, glossed-up, and so damn soft looking, made his stomach turn, eyes narrow and heart race.
“Didn’t take you for the chivalrous type.”
He turned away from you, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. It was so easy for you to tease him, and that infuriated his heart in a gentle way. “Keep fuckin’ yappin’ and I’ll throw your towels down the damn stairwell.”
The elevator jerked to a stop at their floor, and he stepped out first, still holding your basket like it was his sworn duty now. He didn’t wait or look back— he knew you were trailing after him, arms folded behind your back with a curious look directed toward him.
“You know, if this keeps up, I might start thinking you like running into me.”
He shot a glare over his shoulder—maybe he did, maybe he didn’t—eyes narrowing more, “You tryin’ to piss me off?”
“I’m just getting started.”
He muttered something under his breath, a gentle pain in my ass, while waiting at your door, shifting the basket to one arm while you fumbled with your keys.
In all his time living in this complex, no one had ever caught his interest. All his previous neighbors were idiots; extras in a world way too big for them. Some were stalkers, others were fans, and the rest? Just plain fucking boring. He didn’t care. None of them mattered. Until you, the elevator weirdo, moved in. Now, for some reason, he can’t stop wanting to matter to you; can’t stop wanting to be relevant in your world. He grumbled all the time about these stupid ass emotions. Because to him, the shit is wack as hell. But at this point, what can he do?
“Thanks,” you say quietly, taking the basket back once the door swung open.
“Yeah. Whatever,” his eyes met yours for a beat too long before he turned, striding off down the hallway, earbuds back in, hand raised lazily over his shoulder like punctuation.
And when he heard you step into your apartment—he hoped you were grinning stupidly, heart racing—because, though he wasn’t smiling, his own damn heart was pounding. There was always this softness that settled in after the two of you talked. Like you were holding something delicate and didn’t wanna drop it. It hadn’t even been that long since you moved in, and yet fuck. Was he suddenly developing some kind of weird ass emotional disease?
Not that he could ever think of you like that, but—well, shit—he wasn’t blind. He saw the way your eyes lit up when you spotted him. Felt how easy it was to fall into a rhythm with you, banter came naturally to both of you without even trying. It was stupid. Dangerous. And yet, for someone with a personality intense enough to make most people keep their distance; he didn’t mind seeing you. Didn’t mind those few minutes between floors. Maybe even looked forward to them. Even if it did only exist in the confines of elevator talk.
About three days later, what began as a harmless distraction ended up serving as a harsh reminder that instincts exist for a reason. It started with a drink and a smile before turning into an awful gut feeling the moment he referred to himself as an ‘alpha male’. Unironically, this would be the first date you’d been on in months and it was already a complete disaster. He laughed at the wrong moments, touched your waist even after you flinched, and tossed out a crude remark he had the nerve to call a compliment.
He is everything Bakugou Katsuki isn’t, and that is a compliment to the explosive hero himself. Because despite all his rough edges, you’d come to terms with one undeniable truth: you were utterly attracted to him and not this vile man sitting in front of you right now.
It was the reason you decided to go on a date to begin with. To try to shake this impending crush you had.
Not that it actually mattered.
He was the boy next door—well, more like the smoldering, broad-shouldered pro-hero who lived one apartment over—and you? Just a regular woman working a 9-to-5, trying to keep her life in order. A relationship like that could never work… right? Or maybe you were just overthinking it. Psyching yourself out before giving it a shot, too afraid of rejection, or too afraid of ruining whatever fragile, budding connection the two of you actually had.
Time couldn’t have dragged any slower. Some distraction this turned out to be. Eventually, you made a flimsy excuse, bailed, and practically sprinted home in heels. But, as if the night couldn’t get any worse, the psycho followed you.
Right up to the front of your building where he forcefully grabbed your arm.
“Why’d you run off like that, baby? We were just getting to the good part,” it was meant to be endearing but it only made you cringe in disgust.
“What the hell? Let me go,” you snapped, heart pounding loud in your ears. You tried to pull away, but his fingers clamped tighter, digging into your skin.
He leaned in closer, breath sour with whiskey. “C’mon, don’t be like that. You were flirting all night. What, suddenly you’re too good now?”
In that moment, your stomach flipped and panic clawed its way up your throat like a noose tightening with every breath. This isn’t just an awkward date anymore. This is dangerous.
“You’re drunk,” you reason, voice trembling despite your best effort to sound firm. “Go home and sleep this off before I have to call the police.”
He just smiled wider, like it was all a game. The glint in his eye made one thing painfully clear: he didn’t think you’d actually do anything about it. And maybe—maybe he was right. You would’ve stayed frozen there, caught in the moment, heart rattling like a warning siren in your chest if not for the voice that cut through the air behind you.
“Oi.”
One word barked out in a warning.
“What the fuck d’you think you’re doin’, huh?”
As if he were the sun cutting through clouds after a storm. There emerged, Bakugou Katsuki, looming and furious, wearing sweatpants and a tight fitted tank top, with eyes glowing like embers. His pace was slow, almost lethal. There was something predatory in the way he moved, hands buried deep in his pockets, looking like he had just come back from an evening jog.
The guy stepped back immediately. Trying to look as innocent as possible while attempting to appear tough.
“Leave us alone, man. We’re having a private conversation here,” the sleazy guy bit out.
“That ain’t what it looked like to me,” Bakugou snapped back, voice low.
“It doesn’t really matter what it looked like to you. This is between me and her.”
Bakugou stopped a few paces away, head tilted slightly, and jaw flexing. His voice dropped even lower, almost calm, but somehow more menacing. Then he stepped in. Close enough to shift the air. Close enough for the guy to realize just how badly he’d fucked up.
“Hah. Nah, it’s between all of us now,” he cuts his eyes to you, sharp but waiting. “Still wanna deal with this fuckin’ loser?”
In response to his question, you quickly shook your head. That was all the confirmation he needed because then, the man couldn’t help but to flinch when Bakugou raised a hand, embers sparking off his palm with loud, crackling pops that matched the fury climbing up his spine.
His expression didn’t shift, but his eyes were burning.
“I’ll give you three seconds to fuck off before I make it real hard for you to walk away.”
The guy blinked, stumbled backwards before muttering something about you being “crazy” and “not worth it” then storming off in a rush of cowardice.
“Fuckin’ bastard,” Bakugou muttered. The words were lethal, but they weren’t aimed at you.
After he left and the adrenaline ebbed into silence, is when you finally felt calm enough to release the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding until now. In fact, you just stood there, shoulders hunched, fists clenched tight at your sides.
Bakugou didn’t move right away either. He just stood there, with eyes sweeping over your face and body in a quick, practiced scan for any signs of damage. He did it so seamlessly, you almost didn’t notice. Must’ve been part of his pro-hero training. He exhaled slowly through his nose and you could tell he wanted to hit something. The twitch in his fingers gave it away. Suddenly, you wondered what he was thinking? When his eyes found yours again, that edge softened just enough.
“You hurt?” he asked, rough and to the point.
In the moment, you didn’t answer. Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe the answer was already written on your face.
He took a step toward you, then stopped short, he hesitated as if he didn’t trust himself not to scare you. The thought made his frown deepen.
“Hey,” his voice dropped, quieter now. “I’m talkin’ to you. You good?”
Another beat of silence passes before you shook your head, again, eyes burning.
Bakugou sighed and without another word, he stepped forward, gently pulled the strap of your bag off your shoulder, muttering:
“C’mon. I’m cookin’.”
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
This time around, the elevator ride remained silent. Neither of you, but mainly you, had much to say after that encounter earlier. Internally, you were grateful to have had a pro-hero as a neighbor. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Any second later and… the mere thought made you shiver. Who knew what would’ve happened.
When the doors opened to floor nine, he led the way, sticking a key in the lock before twisting the knob. In a gruff, rough-edged way, he chivalrously allowed you to walk ahead, telling you to leave your shoes at the door.
His apartment smelled of soap and charcoal, which could only be summed up as a direct result of his quick. Regardless, it is clean in a way yours could never quite managed to be. With the income he undoubtedly earned, every piece of furniture looked hand-made, wooden and modernized. He has a black ornate clock ticking steadily on the wall, a simple case of classic movies lined the shelf, and even his fridge—based on the quick glimpse you caught—is fully stocked.
Sitting on a stool at his kitchen island with a glass of water, you watched as he moved like an executive chef who’d cooked for thousands more times than you could imagine. Contrary to popular belief, there were no explosions, no yelling, not even a single mess. Just quiet control and simple peace.
Was this truly the same man you’d seen screaming his head off on television? In fact, the way he handled situations, the way he spoke to you, was rough but stripped of aggression. This is your neighbor, the one you really fucking liked.
He cooked you soba, setting the plate down in front of you with chopsticks hanging in the noodles like a flag.
“Eat,” he muttered. “And stop lookin’ at me like I’m ‘bout to bite you.”
His words made you smile, and you obeyed by taking a bite in hopes it’ll anchor you. The flavor profile is immense, like good—so, so good. This bowl stands to be the best thing you’d eaten in weeks. And although, he didn’t hover, he still leaned against the counter sipping tea, with eyes flicking to you like he couldn’t help himself. Maybe a part of him wanted to gauge your reaction, to observe genuine emotion.
“Thank you,” you say softly, after finishing the meal he so diligently prepared. “For stepping in. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.”
“Don’t thank me, dumbass. I just got a knack for chasin’ off weirdos.”
“That you do,” you agree with a laugh, he also had a knack for making you laugh. “Who knew having a pro as a neighbor would come with such perks?”
“Tch,” his teeth clicks lightly. “Pro or not, nobody’s layin’ a fuckin’ hand on you while I’m around.”
His words touched you, truly. It made your heart race to the point you actually started to cry softly. The reality set in, and you were so incredibly lucky to have made such a wonderful connection. At the sight of tears, he winced, fumbling for tissues.
“Don’t start cryin’, damnit.”
After that, something shifted.
Bakugou had to give you his phone number. If going out on dates, which he fucking despised the idea of, was going to be part of your routine, he found it best to grant you permission to access him personally. He tried to justify it as protection, but honestly, his reasoning was more selfish than noble.
Was it bad that he wanted to talk to you outside that godforsaken elevator? He didn’t think so. And neither did you, because soon, you started making yourself comfortable by becoming a frequent in his life. It took a matter of seconds before you started crashing on his bed whenever you were too tired to walk down the hall. Sometimes, you’d insist on sleeping on the couch, but he just couldn’t stomach the idea of letting his unexpected guest do so. He’d grown so accustomed to having you over, that he’d even leave a pillow fluffed up with extra blankets folded, waiting just in case.
He thought he’d get annoyed by your frequent texts, but it turned out to be the highlight of his day—especially when you sent those stupid-ass moving pictures or chatted about the little things.
His favorite is always about the elevator.
Pain In My Ass:
Not them finally fixing the metal box after a month…
Still can’t believe they had us walking up nine flights of stairs for that long.
read ✔️
He’d then respond, “Bet it breaks again tomorrow.”
Then you’d send a laughing emoji with this little quip:
Pain In My Ass:
Should we sue?
delivered ✔️
And slowly, slowly, he began to soften. He grumbled less, and smirked a bit more. He let you decorate his fridge with those dumb ass magnets you always seemed to find on clearance at the convenience store you loved so much. He let you call him by his first name, and you let him call you by yours. It felt familiar, as if he’d known you for a lifetime. And he reluctantly liked the sound of it rolling off his tongue.
Bakugou was shit at admitting it, but he actually fucking liked you. A bit too much. He’d been suppressing it for a while, but attraction, chemistry, and connection couldn’t be hidden in moments filled with intimacy—like right now, on a night you asked him over to watch a movie, and he’d taken over the kitchen like he always does, preparing an array of snacks.
“For someone who doesn’t live here, you’ve got a real habit of acting like this is your place,” you teased with a smile, watching him pace around.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention.
“If you stocked your damn fridge, I wouldn’t have to.”
He constantly fussed at you for your lack of food, but always mentally created a grocery list, knowing he’d make it his mission to have it filled by the next evening.
“I’ll just start charging you rent since you seem to greatly dislike my limited grocery spend.”
He snorted, grabbing another bowl from the cabinet. “Yeah? Then I’ll pawn off those shitty magnets on my fridge to cover it.”
Laughter rang through the air at his response, and you lightly smacked his shoulder. “I thought you liked them?”
“They’re fuckin’ stupid,” he muttered, lips tugging into a smirk. “But I put up with ‘em ‘cause they’re yours.”
He avoided looking at you directly, pretending to focus on the snacks, but the slight curl at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. The banter, the conversation, nothing ever seemed to falter with you. Not many people got his sense of humor, nor did they grasp his personality.
But you, fucking you, read him perfectly. And he appreciated that more than he’d ever admit.
As you kept talking, he placed some final touches on the food and slid a plate toward you. His eyes, watchful as always, stayed locked on you as you took a bite. The hum that slipped from your throat when the flavor hit made his pulse spike in an uncontrollable wave, much like a fuse hissing down to detonation.
“It’s so good,” you murmured, already snagging another bite.
“Damn right it is.”
Bakugou meant to leave it at that. He really did. But when his hand lifted to brush a crumb from the corner of your mouth, the atmosphere shifted, suddenly turning sensual. He couldn’t resist the temptation of your lips—so soft to the touch and pleasant to look at. His thumb lingered too long, dragging against the plumpness of your lower lip before he pulled his hand back, jaw clenched tight.
Fuck.
FUCKKKKKK.
He shouldn’t want this so badly. But you were standing right there, lips practically begging for him. If that wasn’t enough, there were your eyes too, locked on his like you could see every thought running through his head. He hated how easy it was for you to undo him, how much he wanted to drown in you. His gaze dropped again, lingering on the way your mouth parted as you breathed. He could almost picture it: how you’d taste, and how you’d sound when he finally kissed you.
Then you leaned in, just barely, perhaps without even realizing it. But regardless, it was enough.
A curse tore from him as he closed the space, crashing his mouth against yours. This kiss was a mixture of everything—rough, messy, charged with the restraint that had been silently breaking for months. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb pressing firm against your cheek as if to pin you in place, to make sure you couldn’t slip away now that he had you.
And you kissed him back just as desperately, clutching at him like you had been starving too.
“Shit,” he muttered, trying to regain control, trying to remind himself to stop before he went too far. Pulling back slightly, breathing heavy, eyes dark with restraint.
“Katsuki,” you murmured, tilting your chin up to kiss him again. This time, your hand fisted his shirt, pulling him closer. Your insistence made a low growl escape him. “I really like you.”
“Tch,” he froze for half a second, struggling against the chaos you’d unleashed, before giving it up entirely. “You’re really something,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “I like you too, idiot.”
The next kiss was fiercer, hungrier, desperate in a way that left both of you reeling. Hands tangled in each other’s hair, hearts slamming, lips colliding again and again. Time had denied you this euphoric experience long enough, and now it erupted into one impossible, burning instant.
“Wait—,” you laugh, pulling back, and he lets you, only to dip lower, pressing hot kisses down your neck and nipping at your bare shoulder. “What about our movie?”
“Why the hell do you care about some shitty movie right now?” he mutters against your neck, smirking when you shiver.
“Guess you’ve got a point,” you tease. “But you’re going to have to prove you’re worth missing the ending for.”
“Heh,” he smirks against your skin, teeth scraping your shoulder. “I’ll have you forgettin’ about it in ten fuckin’ seconds.”
He smirks, grabs you like you weigh nothing, and tosses you over his shoulder. Striding past the couch without a second glance at the untouched snacks and abandoned movie, he carries you upstairs—your laughter mixing with his low, satisfied chuckle.
In no way, shape, or form did you ever expect to feel so blissfully at peace with the most passionate man on planet earth. Everything Bakugou Katsuki did was never half-assed, and that included his love. Every heartbeat felt synchronized, and the world would fall away every time his lips found yours. The intention hadn’t been to fall in love, let alone so seamlessly. But somehow it had come to this point where everything just fell together.
Groceries were still an unspoken shared duty, mainly one-sided with Bakugou grumbling as he hauled the heavier bags and you teasing him mercilessly.
“Y’know, you could probably bench press the whole building,” you’d joke.
“Shut up,” he’d snort, one eyebrow raised, though secretly you knew he liked the praise.
The elevator remained a stage for your endless chatter, small talk now punctuated with laughter and a quiet, comfortable familiarity. On late patrol nights you’d wait for him in the lobby, a huge smile on your face. He’d want to hear about your day, and you’d tell him everything—whether it was complaining about the office or recounting some absurd city mishap.
He listened, muttering a single gruff word of acknowledgment, occasionally cracking the tiniest smirk when your stories grew ridiculous.
And then there were the little moments that made your chest tighten and your stomach flip with quiet wonder. Like when the lights flickered one evening and your hand instinctively found his. How he didn’t pull away, but held it firm, like it was his job to keep you safe—and always had been.
Being with him like this, amid the domestic chaos, the soft quiet, the everyday intimacy, was something you never could have imagined when you first stepped into that elevator. The man who once radiated fire and scowls now let his walls down just enough for you to see him fully. And in turn, you realized that you didn’t need grand gestures to feel sparks.
Sometimes he caught you staring, eyes lingering too long on the curve of his jaw, the slope of his broad shoulders, the way his hands moved when he cooked or carried your bags. He’d clear his throat, scowl, and mutter,
“Don’t get all sappy on me,” but his fingers would brush against yours anyway, a quiet reassurance that needed no words.
It felt good to love him. And to know he loved you too—because he’d said it first, with that gruff certainty that made your heart ache. Being his was unpredictable, but perfect. Being yours was the softest thing about him.
And in a world that was always loud, explosive, and uncertain, this quiet, reckless, tender space was yours.
Together.
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────── the end.
authors’ ending note: if you made it to the end, hello! this was me trying my hand at a cutesy romantic comedy, so hopefully it didn’t suck and ya’ll actually enjoyed the sweetness.
Sometimes i Write…. @the-chocoholic-writer - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
