Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x FemReader
Synopsis: Reader grows closer to Eijiro through harmless friendship and shared laughter, Katsuki doesn’t see disloyalty; he sees himself slowly fading from the picture.
Warning: Miscommunication. Emotional conflict. Crying and Emotional hurt.
Writers Note: This is the first of my 100 Followers special. This story idea came from @rir-rio. Thank you for following me babes🫶🏽 I hope you like it.
Eijiro always had this bad habit of calling at the worst possible times. Not that you minded. If anything, your phone lighting up with his name while you were ankle-deep in paperwork or halfway through reheating the same sad leftovers was almost comforting. He never called for emergencies. He called because he wanted to hear your voice. Because he was bored. Because he’d figured out some new spice blend for chicken that he swore was “life-changing, bro, I swear,” even though last week’s blend had tasted like lemon-scented floor cleaner.
And the truth was… he’d become one of your closest friends without you even realizing it. Easy laughter. Inside jokes born from stupid moments: the time he nearly shredded his shirt trying to “help” you move a dresser, or the time you both got lost on patrol in a neighborhood you’d lived in for three years. The way he always used your full name when he was pretending to be serious or called you “dude” even though you made fun of him every time.
It wasn’t weird. It wasn’t flirtatious. It was just warm. Steady. Familiar.
Katsuki never cared in the beginning. He’d walk past you on the couch, hear Eijiro yelling about burnt onions on speakerphone, and roll his eyes. “You two are idiots,” he’d mutter, not unkindly, and then he’d kiss the top of your head and move on with his day.
You didn’t catch it at first. A missed kiss here. A shorter hug there. His texts slowly losing their warmth:
They were excuses without context. The kind that could mean anything or nothing at all. You chalked it up to hero work. His schedule was brutal. Yours wasn’t much better.
But then you started noticing the silences.
The way he’d stare at the wall when you laughed too hard at something Eijiro said. The way his arms felt stiff around you, like he didn’t know where to put his hands. Like he was scared to hold you too close. Or scared to hold you at all.
The way he stopped looking you in the eye.
The way he never asked how your day was anymore.
The way he didn’t grab you, pull you into his chest, kiss you like breathing. He used to do that without thinking. That soft, quiet affection he pretended was no big deal. Gone.
It wasn’t dramatic. That was the worst part. It was slow. A cold draft creeping under the door.
You kept telling yourself he was tired. You kept convincing yourself it was nothing.
Until one night, Eijiro called while he was meal prepping for the week, rambling about whether paprika and rosemary were “best friends or sworn enemies,” and you laughed. Really laughed. The kind that shook you a little, warm in your chest.
Katsuki had came over to your place after patrol. You didn’t hear the door open. But you felt him stop in the hallway behind you. Felt the air shift. Felt something fragile between you snap like overstretched thread.
He didn’t say a word. Just walked past you, stiff, distant, jaw locked.
You said nothing in front of Eijiro. You finished the call. You even smiled.
But something ugly and terrifying curled in your stomach when you hung up.
Katsuki didn’t speak for the rest of the night.
He slept turned away from you, shoulders tight and guarded.
You stared at the ceiling and counted the cracks like they were explanations.
The next morning, after a short patrol shift, you finally did the adult thing. You threw on a hoodie and drove to his apartment. The winter air was biting, sharp enough to sting your cheeks, but it didn’t stop you. He needed to talk. You needed answers. You didn’t want to sit in the dark anymore.
His door opened slower than usual. Katsuki stood there, eyes tired, hair messy in a way that wasn’t cute. It was exhausted. Worn down. Like he hadn’t slept at all.
“What,” he muttered, voice low, trying to sound bored and failing miserably.
You swallowed. “We need to talk.”
He didn’t move at first. Maybe he thought you’d drop it. Maybe he hoped you would.
But you held his gaze until something in his shoulders gave in. He stepped aside. Let you in.
The living room felt cold. Not physically. Just emotionally hollow. Like the warmth the two of you built had leaked out through the walls.
“Something’s wrong,” you said quietly. “And I want to fix it, but I need you to tell me what’s going on.”
Katsuki laughed under his breath. A bitter, ugly little sound you’d never heard from him before. “Fix it. Right.”
“Don’t do that,” you said, a tremor in your voice. “Don’t shut down and act like nothing matters when it obviously does.”
He looked at you, jaw clenched. “You sure you got time? Thought you were busy talking to him.”
“What?” He snapped it. Sharper than a blade. “You got jokes with him. You got time for him. You laugh with him like that. But when it comes to me? I get scraps.”
“That’s not fair,” you said, voice shaking. “Eijiro’s my friend—”
“Your friend,” he repeated, mocking it. “Yeah, I know. I know. He’s your friend. And you two are just. So. Close.”
He threw his hands up like the words burned him.
“Katsuki, why are you saying it like that?”
“Because it pisses me off!” His voice cracked on the last word. Not with anger. With something closer to fear. “I’m standing here feeling like some placeholder while you run around building a whole damn world with him.”
“That’s not what’s happening,” you whispered.
He didn’t hear you. Not really.
He kept going. Louder. Meaner. Words thrown like grenades.
“You always got something to tell him. Some story. Some joke. Some stupid little moment from your day. You laugh at everything he says like it’s the funniest thing in the world. And me? I don’t even know what the hell you’re thinking anymore.”
Your eyes burned. “Katsuki, I talk to him because he’s my friend. That’s it.”
He shook his head, stepping back like the space between you was safer than touching you. “Then why do I feel like I’m already losing you?”
He never said things like that. Not out loud.
He kept going, voice breaking apart, raw and ragged:
“What did I do wrong? Tell me. What did I do wrong that made you wanna find it somewhere else?”
That was when the tears finally came. Hot. Stinging. Devastating.
“Katsuki,” you whispered, voice cracking. “No. No, no, none of that is true. I’m not looking for anything with Eijiro. I don’t want him. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, like the words hurt.
“If you had talked to me,” you said softly, wiping your face with shaking hands, “I would’ve told you that. I would’ve told you how much I love being with you. How much I choose you. Every day.”
Just stared at you like you’d punched a hole through his ribs and he was waiting to see if he could still breathe afterward.
Then his jaw clenched. Hard. Like he was trying to grind the vulnerability right out of himself.
“Yeah?” he muttered, voice hoarse. “You choose me, huh?”
There was something wild in his eyes, something cornered and hurting. He took a step back, not far, just enough to put space where there shouldn’t have been any. Enough to make your chest cave in.
“You choose me,” he repeated, sharper this time. “Then why the hell does it feel like I’m watching you slip through my fingers?”
Your breath caught. “Katsuki—”
“No.” His voice cracked, not loud but raw. “You don’t get it. You don’t… you don’t see what I see.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing one step to the side like standing still physically hurt him.
“You laugh with him,” he said, the words tumbling out, unsteady, unfiltered, “like you’re lighter with him. Like it’s easy. Like breathing. And when I see that, I swear it feels like my stomach drops. Like I’m already losing.”
Your eyes burned again. “Katsuki, that isn’t—”
“You think I don’t notice?” He cut in, not yelling, just frantic. “You think I don’t hear the difference? When you talk to him, it’s not the same voice you use with me. It’s like he speaks a language I don’t. One I’m not built for.”
His fists curled. Not threatening. Just… desperate.
“I’m not stupid,” he muttered, eyes flicking away. “I know I’m not easy. I know I’m… I don’t fit right, sometimes. I don’t know how to say things the way you need. I don’t always know how to make you laugh. And when you smiled at him like that the other night…” His voice faltered for a second. “I felt like I was standing on the outside of my own damn life.”
Your heart twisted. “Katsuki, he’s my friend. I laugh like that because he’s—”
“I know he’s your friend,” Katsuki snapped, then immediately looked like he regretted the sharpness. “I know. I know that. I’m not saying you want him. I’m not saying you’re cheating or whatever. I’m not… I’m not that kind of idiot.”
He swallowed hard, shoulders tight, breathing uneven.
“I just…” His voice softened, but not gently. More like something giving under too much pressure. “I don’t get that part of you. The lightness. The jokes. That easy way you two fit. And it scares the hell out of me. Because I want to understand it. I want to be the one who makes you laugh like that.”
He looked at you then, eyes bright with something that wasn’t anger at all.
“I want to be enough for you,” he said quietly, like the words tasted like defeat. “And sometimes… sometimes it feels like I’m not.”
The room went so still you could hear your heartbeat echo against the walls.
“Katsuki,” you whispered, stepping toward him without even realizing it. “You are enough. You always have been.”
He shook his head once, sharp. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
“Then let me help you feel it,” you said, voice trembling for a whole different reason now. “Please. Let me show you that you’re the one I want to come home to. The one I choose. The one I love.”
He just stood there, eyes stormy and wounded, breathing like every exhale was a surrender he wasn’t sure he wanted to make.
And that was somehow worse.
Your throat tightened, the guilt rising warm and unbearable in your chest.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words shaky but clear. “Katsuki… I’m so sorry. I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve noticed how things looked from your side. I never meant to make you feel shut out. That was never… never even a thought in my mind.”
He flinched like your apology hit him somewhere tender.
You kept going, voice cracking. “I didn’t realize how much time I was spending with Eijiro. Or how it looked. I wasn’t paying attention and I should’ve been. You’re my partner. I should’ve noticed you pulling away. I should’ve seen you hurting.”
Your eyes burned. “I hurt you. Without even seeing it. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Katsuki looked down, jaw working like he didn’t know how to hold the emotion sitting heavy under his skin. His breathing came uneven, chest rising and falling too fast.
“Don’t apologize for… for having people in your life,” he muttered, voice low, almost ashamed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not really. I just… I didn’t handle it right.”
He looked up at you then, eyes red at the edges, expression bruised in the way only emotions could bruise a man like him.
“I should’ve said something,” he admitted, each word sounding dragged out of him. “I should’ve told you the second I started feeling like that instead of shutting down like some goddamn coward. But I didn’t want to sound pathetic. Or clingy. Or jealous for no reason.”
He huffed out an ugly, shaky breath. “I didn’t wanna be the guy who gets pissy because his girlfriend has friends. Especially Eijiro. I’m not trying to take that from you. I’m not trying to get in the way.”
Your heart twisted. “You’re not. You never were.”
He shook his head. “I just didn’t wanna feel like… like you didn’t need me anymore.” His voice thinned, softened to something small. “You’d laugh with him and I’d think… when was the last time you laughed like that with me? When’d I stop being the one you were excited to talk to?”
“That’s not true.” Your voice broke. “It’s not true at all.”
“I know that now,” he muttered. “I know. I just—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I should’ve asked. I should’ve just talked to you instead of turning into a damn ice block every time my brain got loud.”
You stepped closer, slow but sure, until you were right in front of him. His hands hung at his sides, tense, like he didn’t trust himself to reach for you yet.
“Katsuki,” you whispered, “I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t enough. You are. You always are.”
He blinked fast, breath hitching. “I’m sorry for being an idiot.”
“You weren’t an idiot,” you murmured. “You were scared.”
His chin lowered slightly like he didn’t want you to see how the word hit him.
“And I’m sorry,” he said, voice shaking now, “that I made you cry. That I said shit I didn’t mean. That I pushed you away when all I wanted was to pull you closer.”
You reached up with trembling fingers and touched his cheek. The moment your skin brushed his, his eyes slid closed, like he’d been starving for that small gentleness.
His voice was barely a whisper. “I didn’t wanna lose you.”
“You’re not going to,” you breathed. “I’m here. I’m with you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
His chest rose sharply, like he’d been holding his breath for days.
Slowly, after a long moment of standing there in that quiet, bruised space between you, Katsuki finally reached for you. Not the fierce, quick pull he usually did. Not the demanding grip. Just fingers sliding around your waist, cautious, reverent, almost afraid of breaking you.
You stepped into him, arms winding around his torso, face pressing against his chest. He exhaled shakily, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his whole body softening in a way he never let it except when he was cracked wide open like this.
You stayed like that, breathing each other in, letting the tension bleed out of the room inch by inch.
His voice came low against your ear, fragile honesty woven through each word.
“I don’t want to lose what we have. I don’t want to feel like you’re slipping,” he said. “But I’ll never ask you to choose. I just… want to know that I matter.”
You squeezed him tighter. “You do. More than you know.”
He let out a breath that sounded like a surrender, a release, a soft kind of relief.
For the first time all night, he leaned fully into your embrace, holding you like he’d finally allowed himself to believe you weren’t going to disappear.
