Pro Hero Bakugou - Blog Posts

careful kota, deku's overheating!! 😵‍💫

midoriya-sensei has had enough u_u

dynamight’s badass band-aids!

made this to accompany my fic Katsuki Bakugou and the Great Band-Aid Conspiracy on ao3

Ready To Quit

Becoming a teacher was not on Midoriya’s list of to do’s when he was a child. The only thing running through his mind was becoming a pro hero. After losing his quirk and feeling the remaining embers slip away, he did everything in his power to avoid acknowledging how devastated he truly was.

 So, when Aizawa made the proposal to work at UA High, Midoriya was surprised that he didn’t have to try as hard to be okay with the new career path.

After spending his entire childhood bullied by his teachers for being quirkless, Midoriya knew he wanted to be the saving grace for many young and impressionable teens. He sure as hell needed Toshinori and Aizawa to get him through his first year at UA.

As graduation quickly arrived and passed, Midoriya was already preparing for the next chapter of his life. Every single college Midoriya applied to, he received an acceptance letter. Surprised they still accepted him despite his quirkless status, he took it as a sign and was ready to succeed. Considering his classmates were going to be busy with being sidekicks and interns for a while, Midoriya needed distractions.

Excelling in school was an obsession Midoriya had no problem falling back into. Before meeting All Might, focusing on school was a good distraction from his fate as a quirkless person. Now because that fate is a reality, why not go back to old habits?

School was officially his life; he had no issue embracing it. He decided to major in education and hero studies. He minored in quirk biology and psychology. 

Despite his friends being busy, Aizawa and Toshinori were two people Midoriya stayed in touch with happily. They often would meet for lunch and small catchups. Midoriya and Toshinori already had an unbreakable bond, but the one he formed with Aizawa was unexpected but welcomed.

There were days when Midoriya knew it would be more harm than good to stay cooped up in his room and would ask Aizawa if he could come over. Eri was older so she’d often stay nearby Midoriya doing whatever she wanted. Midoriya would bring over coffees and a small dessert for Eri.

Bakugo and Midoriya stayed in close contact as well. Unfortunately, their conversations were scarce because Bakugo was working himself to the bone. No matter how much Midoriya expressed his worries, Bakugo dismissed the concern and continued the way he was going.

Ignoring Bakugo, Midoriya would often make him bentos and leave it in the blonde’s mailbox because that was the one place Bakugo checked religiously for some odd reason. He’d get five messages back-to-back, each written in all caps. Midoriya would smile warmly at his phone before stepping into his first class of the day.

That process repeated his entire four years in college. As time passed, his classmates reached out a bit more. They were getting comfortable in their schedules, and many were finally out of the early hero stage and working as a respectable pro hero in their desired agencies.

Sure, a part of him was bitter at the extreme loss of contact. Bakugo was far busier than most of his classmates and still found the time to text or send a message or picture. In the end, Midoriya wasn’t too hung up on it and the loss of a familial bond wasn’t as painful after making some new friends in college.

As he began his teaching career, he knew this was where he was meant to be. Sure, becoming a hero and saving people to defeat the villain was ideal, but he was training a ton of people to do that every day. It was a wonderful feeling.

Aizawa was always up his ass, telling him to be harsher on the students to weed out those who will take advantage of Midoriya’s kindness. Stupidity wasn’t a good enough reason for Midoriya to expel someone. His punishments often came later when their training rolled around.

Those who crossed him usually feared doing so again.

Midoriya also sent a lot of the students to Hound Dog. Students held emotional and mental baggage that Midoriya could help with, but sometimes big interventions were needed. Hound Dog had reached out to Midoriya on numerous occasions wanting to know how the students were doing. They built a pretty good bond as coworkers for the greater good of the students.

Raising the next generation of heroes was intimidating, but highly rewarding. It was a big responsibility, and these students needed to know how to cope with their own problems on top of the ethical and moral troubles they would be forced to acknowledge in their journey.

Occasionally, he’d have class sessions dedicated to students asking him questions about his short time as a hero. He talked a lot about those he saved, the villains he’d met and changed, and how he dealt with the realization that their hero-based society wasn’t black and white.

Villains and heroes came in shades of grey. The students enjoyed those days when they got to hear about their young teachers' experience as a hero. It was also nice to know their teacher understood exactly what they were going through. Despite the hell Midoriya and his class had gone through, Midoriya made it clear no problem they faced was any less worthy of praise or worry.

Each teacher's way of educating was different as UA gave them free reign of how classes were taught. In the end, the second-year teachers were impressed with the progress of their new students made. Aizawa’s teaching method worked just as much as Midoriya’s teaching method worked.

When Midoriya was given a list of his next group of students, the excitement was just as high as it was his first time around. If anything, Midoriya felt more confident in his teaching abilities.

After he had a reunion with the rest of his classmates, the reveal of his hero suit, and the offer to join Bakugo’s agency, class 1-A was back and better than ever. Yet Midoriya was left trying to incorporate hero work into his busy teaching schedule. Aizawa even offered tips on how to get things done which was appreciated.

Just as the group was coming back to Midoriya, Midoriya had to withdraw. He appreciated everything they did to get him the hero suit, but now that hero patrols were inserted into his schedule, nearly all his free time was ripped from his hands and thrown in the trash.

The roles switched and Bakugo was now leaving bento boxes in the fridge of the teacher’s lounge. Even worse, Bakugo kept showing up to Midoriya’s class. Many days Midoriya would kick him out, on others Midoriya would drag the blond into the lesson.

One calm day of classes, Midoriya chatted with his class that if word got out that Bakugo was helping students at UA, his hero rating may improve. The students plotted ever since to leak of video of him helping out.

It was a peaceful day and Midoriya wanted to give them a bit of a boost from the hellish training he’d given them the day before. He gave them twenty minutes to write a poem about their time at UA. Then they’d present their poems and if time was left over, they could ask him questions.

Halfway through presentations, a large group from class 1-A decided to come over for a surprise visit since it was one of the rare times they were off on the same day. Many were eager to see Midoriya in his element, unaware that today was supposed to be a recovery day for the students.

Loud cheering came out of nowhere, causing Uraraka and Tsuyu to jump. Kaminari and Kirishima paused where they were and shared a confused look. Bakugo was unimpressed and far from surprised. Todoroki on the other hand was already reaching for the door, but his hand was quickly stopped by Mina and Sero.

“Wait a second, let’s crack the door first to see if we are interrupting something important,” whispered Sero, scooching to the entrance of the door.

Many of the heroes huddled around as Mina slowly pulled open the door. No one in the classroom seemed to have been paying attention because the cheering continued.

Midoriya was standing front and center in a nice suit with his hair pinned back in All Might themed hair clips. He was clasping his hands together with his eyes closed. “Ubukata… do not make me regret this.”

The class erupted into laughter again. Everyone standing by the door looked at Midoriya, growing more confused and entertained by what could be happening. Nonetheless, it was clear the class adored Midoriya with the way every teen was eagerly waiting for something to happen.

“I’m on a whole ‘nother level. Girl he only fucked you over cause you let him,” read Ubukata with way too much confidence.

The room remained eerily silent, Midoriya staring long and hard at the class clown. Everyone in that room was adorable and beyond charming even if some were more antisocial or aggressive than others.

“What… the hell… are you talking about right now? Maybe I should quit,” responded Midoriya slowly, beginning to scare those in the classroom. No one dared to say a word and Ubukata looked about ready to pass out or puke. Suddenly Midoriya rolled his eyes. “If you were going to just use song lyrics as your poem you could have just made it longer to win the prize.”

“No!” shouted Ubukata in defeat, falling to his knees.

All tension in the room vanished as small conversations picked up again. Midoriya looked at his list, smiling at what he saw. “On a more serious note, remember that you all are here to become heroes. If you have any criticism of how I teach my class or have any concerns about your place here, let me know. I’m sure many of you are excluding a lot of important opinions because these are being presented in front of your friends. Now, who wants to go next?”

Mina slowly closed the door again, her dropped jaw motionless as she turned around to see she wasn’t the only one completely flabbergasted at what she’d just seen.

The group shuffled down the hall a bit before Kaminari broke the silence with a whine. “Why couldn't Midoriya be our teacher?”

Smiling softly at the closed door, Todoroki sighed, “I’m just happy to see he wasn’t lying when he told us he enjoys working here as a teacher.”

Nodding slowly, coming out of his shocked daze, Kirishima agreed, “For sure. Those kids are obsessed with him! Even Kota looked mortified when Midoriya said he should quit.”

Uraraka let out some stiffled laughter, shaking her head to herself. “I’m more shocked he’s openly cursing and joking around with them. You’d think he’d want to establish authority with his class to set a good example.”

“I don’t see the harm in it. Our time at UA High wasn’t cupcakes and rainbows. I’m sure that hasn’t changed,” disagreed Bakugo, not appreciating how Uraraka was poking fun at Midoriya’s teaching style even if it wasn’t that serious.

Tsuyu, reading the room with ease, diffused Bakugo’s anger and critiqued Uraraka’s attitude. “It’s nice to see Midoriya while he’s teaching. We have no context of what is going on in that room currently or why Midoriya decided to have this activity. I’m sure he’s a great teacher and he’s passionate about his job and the students.”

Mina picked up on what Tsuyu was trying to do. “For sure! It’s always nice to have a break from the hustle and bustle of life.”

“Never say that again,” remarked Sero, wearing a wide grin.

“Whatever,” huffed Mina, looking away towards the door.

Bakugo, reflected on his recent conversations with Midoriya. “I know Izuku planned a quirk exertion test for the brats so he’s probably giving them a day to recover.”

Appreciating some context, Kirishima shivered dramatically. “Quirk exertion test with Midoriya as the teacher. I’m surprised any of them are still alive.”

Feeling a bit sheepish about her poor attempt of conversating, Uraraka pitched in, “Maybe having him as the teacher is for the best. He is great at analyzing quirks and their drawbacks. Out of all the teachers in the school a test like that would be executed safest by Deku.”

As they all rambled about what they’d seen, Midoriya being a teacher, and how Ubukata scarily reminds them of Kaminari, the bell rang. They all perked up, ready to show themselves to Midoriya. Bakugo took the lead, throwing open the door while the students were still packing up.

“Kacchan,” greeted Midoriya with a softness in his voice that the students weren’t surprised by.

Many greeted Bakugo with a knowing smile or disgusted look before heading out to leave. Only the group stopped when seven other pro heroes walked in like it was nothing. As the group of students started to squeal and gawk at the group, Midoriya seemed unphased despite their presence being a complete surprise.

“Hey guys, what brings you here?” asked Midoriya calmly, walking over to stand next to Bakugo.

“Wanted to visit you man! We all had a random day off and decided to come together,” admitted Kirishima with an energy Midoriya knew he’d always enjoy.

“Freeze,” announced Midoriya loudly, pulling out his phone, sending a quick text, and returning his focus back on the group. “I need to go for five minutes. Since you didn’t give me a heads up, my students can stay back and ask you questions. I’ll be quick, promise!”

Midoriya left the room, leaving the pro heroes stranded with the students of their close friend. All seemed well, the group moved to the front of the room as the students put their bags down to get their questions in.

Hands flew into the air. Mina took the honor of picking the first student to ask a question. After a quick whisper was exchanged with Bakugo, she pointed and called out. “Terumoto!”

The boy whose face was covered in scars was surprised he was called on. Lowering his hand, he knew exactly what he wanted to ask. “I swear we are all being lied to so… is Dynamight and Midoriya sensei dating?”

“Are they what?” screeched the group of pro heroes. Bakugo looked more annoyed than anything else.

Meanwhile, Midoriya was snickering as he lit his cigarette on the roof of the building. “Suckers.”

Stop It I'm Going To Puke

BakuDeku, IidaOcha, IzuOcha!Friendship-centric

Midoriya is just an amazing person and Uraraka really appreciates Midoriya.

Uraraka was heavily pregnant. Iida did his best to be around throughout her pregnancy, but there were times he couldn’t. Whenever Iida wasn’t available, Midoriya made sure he would be. Uraraka needed constant support and a person to lean on.

Uraraka had morning sickness throughout her entire pregnancy. She and the baby were healthy, but oftentimes she couldn’t hold down a healthy meal. Even when she’d eat something she was craving, moments later would be repulsed by what she had just eaten and throw it all up.

Midoriya often shunned Iida for forcing her to follow a meal plan. Iida only had good intentions of making Uraraka a meal plan to make sure that she and the baby were getting the necessary nutrient requirements without having unhealthy foods. While it was a good idea, it backfired on Uraraka’s part. If she wasn’t holding anything down then what was the point of making her follow a meal plan?

Uraraka’s morning sickness didn’t stop once her second trimester came around, meaning she’d still have a rough relationship with food. Uraraka’s morning sickness was also unpredictable. Some days it would come out of nowhere and other days it was a long, lingering feeling. Midoriya was able to pick up cues and assist her accordingly. Midoriya got especially good at pulling up her hair and clipping up her bangs.

Midoriya would go shopping with Uraraka and they’d buy the most random foods that would appease her cravings. While morning sickness didn’t necessarily harm her or the baby, Uraraka’s constant puking was not a good thing.

Midoriya stepped up to get her what she needed and made sure to keep her away from the kitchen to help her from getting scent-sick. She was very sensitive to certain smells.

Midoriya helped get stuff for the nursery for Iida and would listen to Uraraka ramble about moving things around. Midoriya would help clean occasionally and help Uraraka with even self-care. He’d put on compression socks for when she’d walk on the treadmill or do pregnancy workouts. He'd rub her back if she got sick and would place a cold cloth around her neck. Midoriya would cook for her and get her whatever she needed.

Midoriya knew Uraraka was more than capable, but she was in a vulnerable state. Uraraka deserved to be treated like a queen and Midoriya would do anything for his best friend. They’d binge-watch movies and shows. Midoriya and Uraraka would gossip in the pool. They’d do extreme skincare routines. They’d never been closer.

Uraraka would console Midoriya when he’d come over right after a patrol. Midoriya and Iida had worked with the hero commission to schedule their patrols. Whenever Iida wasn’t working, Midoriya would work. Whenever Iida was working, Midoriya wouldn’t be working. Midoriya worked six days a week since he was the number one hero. Midoriya was given assigned patrols, but before Uraraka’s pregnancy, he was on-call.

Somedays were very difficult for Midoriya as the number one hero. There was such a giant pressure on him to be perfect. Of course, it all came crumbling down when he had a chance to breathe behind closed doors. Uraraka and Midoriya were always there for one another and that never changed as the years rolled by.

Midoriya was cuddling with Bakugo when he got the call. Looking at his phone, he noticed it was Iida. Seeing there was nothing to hide from Bakugo, Midoriya put the call on speaker. Bakugo perked up upon seeing Midoriya press the button. He couldn’t lie he had been wanting to hear what was up as well.

“Izuku,” greeted Iida.

“Hello Iida! What’s up?” asked Midoriya happily.

“Come to the hospital, Uraraka is in labor,” revealed Iida, sounding beyond excited and nervous.

Midoriya flew off the couch, gasping dramatically as his face lit up. “Oh my god— really! Hold on! I’m on my way!” Uraraka was only a week from her due date so Midoriya had been anticipating the call, but nothing prepared him for when the moment finally came.

Bakugo watched his boyfriend in amusement. A part of him believed Midoriya was even more excited than Iida. Midoriya loved Uraraka dearly. Uraraka was Midoriya’s first friend and she was his best friend. Bakugo recalled Mina teasing Midoriya and Uraraka because of how close they were. She mistook their unshakable bond for a puppy-love crush. Bakugo never worried about Uraraka though, Midoriya was always his.

Iida laughed at Midoriya’s outburst, well aware that his friend was beyond excited. “Don’t rush. We have no idea how long this will take.”

“Okay, well Kacchan and I will be heading out now,” puffed Midoriya, out of breath from his giant freakout.

“Great, see you two soon.”

“Bye!”

Bakugo grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone. Midoriya followed suit, grabbing his things before rushing after his boyfriend. Bakugo held open the door for Midoriya after they threw on their shoes. Midoriya slipped out their front door and rushed to the car. The entire drive there, Bakugo tightly gripped Midoriya’s hand, their fingers intertwined. Midoriya’s joy radiated through the car but was contained as Bakugo’s touch never failed to sedate him.

They arrived at the hospital and it seemed as if Uraraka had just finished giving birth. The clean-up was happening currently so they’d have to wait a bit before they’d be allowed in. The two took a seat in the waiting room, happily chatting about everything and anything.

Bakugo rolled his eyes, side-eyeing Midoriya. “I feel like you were more excited about this baby than four-eyes was.”

“Impossible. Uraraka is my best friend, but Iida’s her husband. He probably had a different way of showing it,” disagreed Midoriya with a smirk, slightly elbowing Bakugo in the arm.

“Iida called you all calm and collected and you were the one freaking out like it’s your baby,” teased Bakugo, happy to mess with his lover.

“Kacchan!” groaned Midoriya, being dramatic as usual.

Soon enough, the doctor came out asking for the two. Midoriya and Bakugo were escorted to the room where Uraraka would be staying. Upon entering, it took everything in his power to not squeal in delight. As Midoriya approached Uraraka who was holding the baby, Midoriya’s jaw dropped upon seeing the most beautiful infant.

The baby had light brown hair with blue undertones, chubby cheeks, and gorgeous red eyes. Swaddled in a light yellow blanket, Midoriya had never seen a more tiny and adorable sight.

Uraraka was laying in the hospital bed and when she saw Midoriya her smile grew. Midoriya rushed to her side, hugging her carefully. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“I’m sure you did Izuku,” chuckled Uraraka fondly. “Wanna see the little munchkin?”

Midoriya nodded so hard that the three in the room were worried it would snap off. Midoriya sat down on the edge of the bed with an excited smile. Iida helped take the baby from Uraraka’s arms, careful not to disturb the baby. Iida came over with the baby, extending it out to Midoriya.

Uraraka finally spoke up. “Meet Izuku Iida.”

Midoriya had his hands extended out and let out a soft laugh while quickly glancing to the side where Uraraka was. “What?”

Suddenly Midoriya’s eyes widened as he processed what was happening. A look of pure shock graced his features as a hand rose to rest against his chest. His eyes snapped from Uraraka to Iida. The two chuckled fondly at Midoriya’s reaction.

“No you did not,” whispered Midoriya, still not recovering from the shock.

Uraraka and Iida exchanged a glance before looking back at Izuku and laughing. “Yes.”

Midoriya’s lip trembled, the touched expression on his face tugging at the duo's heartstrings. His hand remained close to his chest as the tears started falling. Midoriya’s voice cracked as he tried to speak. “No, you did not.” Midoriya cried a bit, covering his mouth.

Bakugo watched the scene with wide eyes, not having been filled in on this happening. Watching his boyfriend get the honor of having his best friend's child named after him caught him off guard. He smiled at the sight, he enjoyed watching the emotions on Midoriya’s switch at a fast pace. It was mesmerizing.

Midoriya cried as he reached out to hold the baby that was named after him. Iida grinned as he passed him off to Midoriya. “His name’s Izuku.”

Midoriya held the baby so carefully, supporting the baby’s tiny head like it was the most valuable treasure in the world. Midoriya cried as he rested the baby on his lap, brushing the baby’s crazy hair back with his finger. Midoriya cried as he wore a smile, enamored with the baby.

“Why would you do this to me?” cried Midoriya, embarrassed at making a scene.

Bakugo stared at Midoriya handling the baby and felt his chest pound from his rapidly beating heart. He was proposing as soon as possible. While Bakugo was falling deeper in love, Uraraka and Iida were still touched by how much Midoriya’s reaction moved them.

Midoriya’s thumb caressed the baby’s cheek as he used his shoulder to wipe his tears. Izuku repeatedly thanked them about how honored he felt to have their child be named after him.

“Izuku, you are everything we aspire to be. We are deeply grateful for everything you have done for us. You’ve been a wonderful friend and this is the least we could do,” admitted Iida bashfully, his cheeks rosy.

Uraraka raised a brow with an amused smirk. “You held my hair back as I puked in a vase. You researched labor training workouts with me. You made me delicious food. You always showed up when I needed you. Even if you were having a bad day, you never once hesitated to show up and take care of me. I love you Izuku, and my baby deserves no other name than yours.”

Midoriya was still crying and tilted his head to the ceiling. “Stop it, I’m going to puke.”

Bakugo wasn’t aware of everything Midoriya had been doing. He assumed the two were just hanging out more since Uraraka was on work leave and would need some assistance. He hadn’t realized just how far Midoriya had gone for Uraraka. Besides, Bakugo didn’t really know what happens during pregnancy.

Bakugo came over and kissed Midoriya’s head tenderly before looking at the baby with Midoriya. “Brat definitely looks like you two,” grumbled Bakugo, showing his support.

Iida and Uraraka smiled, glad Bakugo wanted to see their child as well. Eventually, the news broke out and it became a whole story. The wonder duo was also declared as the godparents of Izuku Iida, which no one was surprised by.

Baby fever hit Izuku and Bakugo hard, but they did have to get married before even thinking about having a kid. Neither had been in a rush and were satisfied with just being in a relationship. Bakugo and Midoriya had a rocky relationship in the beginning. They may have grown up together, but they had a lot to learn.

Bakugo, Iida, and Midoriya were 25 while Uraraka was soon going to turn 25 in three months. It was clear life didn’t have one distinct path. Iida and Uraraka were already married and had a baby while Bakugo and Midoriya were still dating.

Bakugo had no desire to speed things up, but alas, Midoriya was always an exception. They had a whole honeymoon to enjoy. Fortunately, Bakugo did speed up the process and proposed to Izuku at a group outing two months later.

The End!

It’s so good but it’s sad🥲🥲

would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

word count: 17.8k

summary: bakugou is yours, and you're his, but what happens when distance and dreams get in the way of your relationship? dating a pro hero isn't easy, and neither of you will settle for just enough.

tags: 5 times trope (5 times you break each other’s hearts), angst+fluff, lovers to exes to fwb to strangers, pro hero bakugou x fem!reader, time skip towards the end, it's messy and ugly. also trans!bakugou, pussy eating and soft sex (he doesn't have sex, he makes love), demi coded bakugou because i said so

bonus:

playlist

bakugou's past (ao3 link)

ao3 fic link

1.(the beginning of an end)

“You know what this means, right?” 

The guests have left and it’s now only you and him in the shared apartment. Dinner was nice, everyone was happy and celebrating your boyfriend’s achievement. He had been offered a job position as a rookie in a really good hero agency. Abroad. Hours away from you. 

“Can we not do this now? Let's wait until tomorrow, please.” You don’t beg. Maybe he’ll take in your tensed shoulders and do you the favor, carrying out the fake act for a while longer. Just one more night with him in your arms. 

Bakugou’s eyes burn into the side of your neck as you do the dishes. He’s next to you drying and putting them away. “We’ll have to talk about it eventually.” Your smile is gone. It doesn’t really matter, it was as real as purple haired dogs- you can’t fool me. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Your hands burn at his accusation. Or maybe it’s just the tap water, too hot for your skin but the perfect temperature to get rid of the grease on your plates. 

“Hm.” 

Ashy blonde hair makes its way onto your right shoulder. Bakugou leans on you, letting part of his body weight fall and taking you down with him. You drop the ceramic and use both your arms to steady him, grabbing his looming frame and holding him with the help of your hip. Like a big ass baby. 

“Katsuki stop!” He doesn’t budge. “Katsuki! You’re gonna make us fall!” There’s the beginning of a laugh bubbling up in your throat, so you push it down. “Seriously, stop.”

The giant man stands up, properly this time, and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you flush against him, kisses your temple and makes his way down to your lips, catching them unguarded and eagerly waiting. You melt into him, what else could you do? If it’s your last night with him, if it’s his last night being yours. 

Somehow you manage to escape his embrace with the excuse of a much-needed shower. He offers to join but you decline. You have to get used to showering alone. 

Bedtime is long past, but he’s still awake. Fighting for his life, but awake. The book between his hands threatens to fall on his chest. You observe him from the bathroom door as he blinks comically to keep the sleepiness away. 

“Fucking finally.” He mutters as you shuffle in next to him, placing the book on his nightstand and taking off his reading glasses.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you always go to bed early.” Please, don’t do it now. 

Bakugou studies your face for a moment, opening his mouth and closing it again. His eyes fall to your lips, and he leans forward to steal a kiss. Let's do it tomorrow then. 

That’s pretty much how every day looks like to you for the rest of the week. He tries to bring up the elephant in the room and you run away like a scaredy cat, he doesn’t insist so you never actually talk. 

Sunday morning comes around and his bags are ready, sitting by the door. You spent your Saturday evening out with friends, not baring to watch him put his clothes away. He has already packed up his books and family pictures, putting all his stuff in boxes except for the most important one. Though he’s leaving you the furniture you bought together when you first moved in- the couch, the mattress, the bookshelf (now half empty), the place feels empty. 

“Oi.” His voice is unusually soft. Not because he isn’t (soft), but because that’s not how he does it really. Bakugou may appear as loud and opinionated to anyone who meets him, but the man you know has a careful touch and a sweet tone- eager to please and ready to love. But this, the sound you’re hearing right now, it’s colored with pity. “I- Do you think we should talk?” 

He’s standing by the door, as if ready to bolt out the second you start crying. His flight isn’t until midnight, but he’s already opening his dumb mouth. The fact that this time he’s asking tells you everything you need to know. You haven’t said a word the whole week, dodging his reaching hand and masking your pain with a smile. There isn’t much to say now, you both already know how this ends. Ever since teenagers none of you had been fond of long-distance relationships, and even before dating Bakugou had warned you this could happen. You got on the train anyway, because you loved him. And he loved you. Now you both have to get off, though you love him. And he loves you. 

His eyes are fixed on the broken tile by his feet. Not even sparing you a glance. 

“Do you have something to say?” It should make him mad, that you’re asking this now after seven days of him chasing you around. 

But he can’t get mad. He’s not sure he can feel a thing. “Yeah- uhm I-” Don’t say it, please don’t say it. “- you know we both don’t really do long distance, so.” 

“Hm.” It comes out as a choked sob, voice breaking and alerting him. But his eyes fall back down again. Why did he insist on this when he can’t even do it properly?

A minute goes by and you say nothing, just watch him play with the broken tile. The apartment is old but everything you ever wanted, with tiled floors and a pretty view of the city. 

“I never fixed it.” He says, pointing at the spot with the tip of his foot. “If you ask Kiri or Mina they could probably help you find a new one, replace it.” 

You know he’s not talking about himself, about your relationship. Still, it hurts. 

“I like it the way it is.”

Bakugou laughs. “It’s broken”

“It works.” He catches onto your dry tone and stops his movements, straightening out his back and looking you in the eyes.

“Do you wanna go out for a walk? It’s pretty nice out there, we could get lunch later at that place you like- what is it called? Marga? Maggie?” He’s doing the same thing you did to him, so you can’t get mad. But you do. 

“Why don’t you just break up with me already?” Make it quick so it doesn’t hurt as much.

He has the audacity to look surprised. “What? I’m trying to be nice, have a last date before-” He interrupts himself with an exasperated sigh. “You know what, fine! If you don’t want to, it's fine. I can spend the rest of the day at my parents’ if this is uncomfortable, but keep in mind I tried to do this earlier and you didn’t let me. Do you even know how I feel? I’m the asshole that’s breaking both our hearts and it’s not even my fault!” 

Bakugou’s fury has never frightened you, but his cheeks covered in tears is a horror that hunts you in your sleep. You can’t help but think of his younger self, so volatile and fragile, how he’d shoot to kill without a second thought. Now he’s matured, and it shows. You should tell him to stay, at least until he has to leave. But your pain is bigger and angrier.

“Yes, that would help a lot actually.” He’s not expecting those words, but his reaction is one proper of his persona.

“Fine. I’ll go.” 

“Fine.”

And with a slamming door he moves onto a better, greater future. 

2. (lovely, hurtful, magnetism)

It’s hot when you see him again. Todoroki has invited you over to his family’s summer house, and apparently said invitation extended over to his other group of friends. Of course you knew about this before agreeing to come, you’re not an idiot and your friend is not an actual airhead. 

sho has created the group chat  “ todoroki’s summer house ”

sho has added you

sho has added pinky

sho has added kiri

sho has added curls

sho - hi come this tuesday im staying for two weeks

sho - lmk if i forgot to add anyone

sho has added ‘ki

sho - bakugou your here for summer right

‘ki - yes 

sho - k

‘ki - and it’s you’re

sho - k

Then Ochako and Kaminari flooded your phone with messages. You texted Shouto privately, and he explained to you Bakugou had been fired. Apparently, the hero agency had been in debt for quite some time and managed to hide it, staying afloat but barely. Later this spring they began cutting people out, saying goodbye to most of their rookies- including Bakugou. You winced at the sound of his name, just imagining how much of a fit he would’ve thrown. 

sho - hes fine though

sho - got a big compensation 

(Not that you asked how he was doing, but you thanked him for the info anyways.)

Everyone in both groups heard about your breakup, either from you or from him. (this you knew because your friend, Todoroki Shouto has been part of both groups since high school) (and also because he’s a gossipy motherfucker). It didn’t come as a surprise though, they knew neither of you would agree to try- it’s self-suicide, but for romantic relationships.

Still you never expected the reunion to be so tense. 

“Hey! Hi! Oh my god it’s been ages!” Kirishima is the first of them to arrive, caging you in a reciprocated bear hug. 

“Hi Kiri, how have you been?” You’ve always liked the redhead, such a cheery, reliable person. 

“Oh you know, busy but overall fine. Hey, my moms told me they saw you at the park, you have a dog now?” His smile is so blinding for a moment you forget your manners, squinting your eyes at him. 

“Yes, yes I got a dog. Her name is Kesha.” An even brighter light invades your sight as he throws his head back laughing.

“You gotta be kidding me, Kaminari is gonna love that!” 

And then the rest come. Mina hugs you tight, a warm touch you know holds a different meaning. Momo and Jirou arrive with Ochako, the three girls sending you glances every time Kirishima observes Bakugou’s uncharacteristic unpunctuality- something you’ve been thinking about since you got here, ready to face him as the first guest. A few moments later Izuku makes his way down from the second floor, his beauty bath finally done.

“A bath? In this heat? Man you’re nuts.” Sero comments. He has a new bike, even bigger than the last one. 

Finally, once you’re all getting dinner started, Bakugou and Kaminari show up at the door. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

“Dude! Traffic was crazy, I swear to god we tried our best to get here on time but- Oh! Hi!” The blonde’s eyes have found you, and god bless his soul for his lack of brain cells. “Í didn’t- I brought him” He lifts his thumb and points at Bakugou hiding behind him. “I hope that’s fine?”

They’re standing by the living room entrance, and though you both manage to avoid each other’s eyes it’s still pretty clear that this is not a comfortable situation.

“Kaminari! Bro! Guess what?” Kirishima suddenly erupts from his spot next to you on the couch, gaining all of his friend’s attention. “Her dog’s name is Kesha.” He savors every letter, slowly, making sure they get that itch behind Denki’s ears. 

Kaminari’s face lights up, mouth hanging open. “Shut up!” Before you know it, he’s squeezing himself next to you and grabbing you by the shoulders, almost forcing you to take out your phone and show him pictures of your baby. 

Meanwhile Bakugou hands the tray with the dessert to Momo, following her into the kitchen and greeting your friends. “Hi.” Nod. “Hi.” Nod. Jirou goes for a fist bump, but Ochako just sends him a bitter smile. I’m on her side.

“Bakugou, does this need extra cold? I can put it in the freezer if you want.” Momo saves him from starting a silent fight. 

“Yes, yes that’d be better. It probably melted a bit during the car ride.” His hands are sweating- have been since Kaminari picked him up at his parent’s house.

“Why’d you take so long?” Jirou’s voice joins. He’s sure she’s on his side, but he’s not willing to trust too much- after all her girlfriend is your friend. 

“That dumb idiot took a wrong turn and didn’t listen to me, I should’ve come here on my own.” 

“Yeah right, and leave him behind. Because that’s what you do with the people you care about.” Ochako’s words take a second to digest, but soon enough their venom pumps in his veins with an anger he hasn’t felt since high school. 

It’s not fair. If this is how she’s reacting, then what twisted story have you told them? Yes, he left, but you knew it would happen. You knew it and didn't want to see it until it was too late, waited until the very last minute to turn it around and make him the bad guy. You, out of everyone, villainized him. Still, he contains himself, choosing to ignore her comment and move on to join the others.

“And then he jumped on me! Out of nowhere!” Kaminari has stolen the show. He’s standing on the couch, arms everywhere and crazy eyes making sure everyone is watching him. 

Bakugou’s gaze travels down, to the spot next to him. You’re resting your head on your arm, bent over the back cushion and staring up at his friend with a soft smile on your lips. You’re pretty (prettier, he thinks, but it’s probably his mind playing tricks). Did you cut your hair? It’s shorter than how you usually wear it, but it suits you (obviously). The clothes you’re wearing are new too, or at least he doesn’t remember seeing you with that shirt on. He wonders how many people have, but it only ignites a fire he worked so hard to put out. Then you turn your head and look at him. It takes him a second to realize he’s been caught, but you hold his gaze for longer than he expected so he can’t back down now.

His red eyes provoke you, starting a game you’re not sure how to win. It burns your skin. Your fun is cut short though, Ochako has entered the room and is urging you to move your ass so I can sit. Her chubby fingers find their way to your waist and tickle you out of your trance, sending Bakugou a glare once she’s got your attention. Leave her alone.

Dinner goes smoothly, you’re such a big number of people it’s hard to focus on one thing at once so it’s fine if you fuck up, no one will notice. You’re seated between Shouto and Ochako, one shielding you from your ex and the other passing the chips and sauce. 

“So, when will my suit be done?” Sero asks, lifting his voice so everyone can hear. “That’s right, she’s been assigned my suit to fix! Don’t mind me having one of the best engineers in the country working on my favor!” The table explodes in shocked gasps and jealous whines. 

“I’ve been asking for you since we got out of high school! It’s not fair!” Ochako cries.

“I told you it’s not my decision to make! They just assign them to me!” More whining. 

Todoroki takes a sip of his non-alcoholic cider and decides to open his big mouth. “But in short time it will be.” After that they all fall silent, the sound of his sipping the only noise.

Then the room erupts again. Questions here and there, a few guesses to your answer. Are you moving away? Please don’t leave us! Omg please tell me it’s Best Jeanist!

It takes a moment to calm them down, and some extra work to make Kaminari stop throwing wild guesses at you. “I actually have a few offers-” you raise your hands up to stop them from invoking chaos again, “-one is abroad, yes.” An echo of ooohs is heard. “But the best option is right here, in this city.” You know that answer won’t satisfy them, they won’t stop bugging until you give them a name. They stare, expectantly. “The Bakugou’s are expanding their fashion industry and going into hero design, so they need an engineer and apparently I’m the best one they know.” Momo and Ochako have lost their smiles, Izuku is holding his breath and Shouto is eating salad. You thank every celestial being for Tsuyu’s absence, or else she would have spat hurtful facts right then and there. “It’s actually a really good job offer. I’ve known them for ages, so I trust them enough to suggest any changes if needed, and I’ll get to run the engineering department, so I’ll basically be the boss!” Sero and Mina look at each other, and you know they want to be supportive, but the air has suddenly grown dense. Bakugou hasn’t uttered a word, eyes fixed on his food but he’s not eating. “I could finally take in your requests, fix your suits, and all that.” Your voice grows smaller with every sentence you speak, feeling like all of this was a huge mistake. It feels wrong to add that you’ve already accepted this offer, that you’re starting in a few weeks. 

“That’s good, you’ve always wanted your own workshop and you’re good at managing people. Congratulations.” Bakugou says through greeted teeth, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat. His eyes are on yours again. Yes, your body is definitely burning up. 

You give him a tight smile, fighting the urge to cringe at yourself. It’s infuriatingly exciting how giddy you feel, shy but in a good way, wanting more.  

“Who wants dessert?” Shouto has finished his salad, and though he’s the only one with a clean plate nothing will come between him and his sweets (you’ll hold him accountable for his youngest child behavior later).

(Momo pulls you apart before going to bed, she just wants to make sure you’ve thought this trough. It’s his parents I’m working for, not him. She doesn’t insist, trusting you’re grown enough to know what you’re getting into.)

-

The following days are spent as you had imagined. Lots of food, pool days, karaoke nights, card games, Kaminari getting sunburnt, more food and maybe some peace and quiet.

“Why didn’t Iida come?” Denki asks during breakfast one day and everyone looks at him incredulously. He’s already done, swinging himself on a hammock and staring at the Todoroki’s huge garden. The silence makes him shift in place.  “What?”

“Dude, he’s been in the states for about a year now.” He left around the same time as Bakugou did. But Iida is not really his friend, so he wouldn’t know.  

“No way! What about his girlfriend? Did he leave her?” Just as always, Kaminari Denki doesn’t think twice before speaking. He gets the same stares as before, but this time no one answers.

You sigh and say- “They broke up.”

“Oh man, so he did leave her behind.” 

“No, they broke up dumbass. They talked like adults and realized it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t leave her.” Bakugou sounds defensive, one more stupid question away from skinning his friend alive. 

“It happens Denks.” You can’t believe you’re the ones having this conversation, especially when neither of you could do it back then. 

“Oh, oh. Right, sorry my bad.” 

Everyone’s plates are empty, so you take it as your chance to get up and flee back inside to the kitchen. If your eagerness at cleaning dirty dishes exposes your true feelings they don’t say, and you don’t care. 

You try not to blame Denki, but it’s because of him you’re now thinking about that awful week. It’s been almost a year, yet you still can’t get his words out of your head. You should’ve stopped him, accepted his offer for a last date and locked that memory within the confines of your heart. But instead, you stood and watched it all burn down. 

A rattle of glass against glass startles you, and you turn to see Bakugou has placed a tray of cutlery and plates on the counter. He takes a look at your gloved hands under the water and furrows his brows.

“What are you doing? What's wrong with their dishwasher?” He immediately falls down to his knees, eyeing the machine with touchy hands- like a dad. You get rid of that thought as soon as it appears, not willing to go down that road today. 

“Shouto said it’s broken, overflows and ends up flooding the whole place.” 

“Hm.” 

His presence makes your tummy feel warm even after all this time. Of course, for years you thought you’d marry him, build your own house on the beachside and start a family together. Bakugou had always wanted a daughter, a little demon stronger than him, someone he could swing around in his arms and wrestle once big enough. 

“I’ll go fetch some tools, see if I can get this working.” You know he won’t be able to fix it, you took a look as soon as you got here, and since you’re the engineer between the heroes it would be smart to trust your judgment. But Bakugou likes to feel useful, so you let him be.

Not even two minutes later he’s back at your side, sitting on the floor with one leg over the other and his face buried in the dishwasher- mumbling ‘fuck is this’s and ‘the hell’s. 

“Nah, this shit is broken broken.” He says as he gets up from the ground. You stifle a giggle and focus on the never-ending pile in front of you, extending onto the counter on your left side. “You’re not done yet? What’s with all this mess, who left the dinner dishes there?” 

“Sero and Shouto were on cleaning duty last night.” After years of dealing with those boys, your answer is enough to explain today’s disaster. 

Bakugou’s face turns into a scowl, vein popping on the side of his forehead. “Those damn, spoiled brats, I swear to god I don’t understand why I’m still friends with them, they're so- infuriating.” His rant against his friends makes you smile against your will. “I’ll dry them off, but you’ll have to tell me where they go ‘cause this fucking house is a labyrinth.” 

His eyes meet yours for the third time this week, and you find the same burning flame staring back- just like the old times. 

He works in silence, taking a knife and wiping it, waiting for you to point at the first drawer in the right corner. Then he grabs a pot, wincing when he bumps it against a glass and makes a horrible noise. Bottom cabinet to the right. The domesticity of the situation freezes your heart and makes your mind race. His calloused hands are still as gentle as you remember them, handling every object with the same care he used to hold your face. 

“How were things in your new home? Did you like it?” You’re the first to break the silence. 

Bakugou hates small talk, but something tells him you genuinely want to know. Was it worth it? 

He cleans his throat before saying- “Yes, it was… something.” He swallows. 

You know what you’re doing, it’s not nice but you can’t stop. “Did you make any friends?” He didn’t, you know it takes him six months to see a stranger is also a human being and an extra four months to gather the courage to talk to them (if they don’t make one (1) mistake and ruin it all).

“No.” You know what you’re doing, and you know he knows it too. “I didn’t have much time, working as a rookie is not so fun so I focused on getting promoted. Also, my peers weren’t the most accepting, so I figured why bother?”  

Oh. You go back in your tracks and lower your weapon. “Sorry to hear that.” You take the dish soap and pour some over the sponge. “Did they say something? Or do something?” You tread cautiously, fearing his answer might be a yes. 

“Nah, not directly to me but they made sure to express their opinions.” It’s not the first time it’s happened, but he can see your shoulders tense. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it so it’s not a big deal anymore. Most people are shit, and the heroics field isn’t the most queer-friendly environment, so I didn’t go in expecting a welcoming party.”  

You should feel ashamed, attacking one of his weak spots and ending up being you who needs reassurance. Still you can’t stop picturing him avoiding dressing rooms, sulking back to an empty apartment and showering in hot enough water to boil away the day. You want to rip to shreds the smiles of those who hurt him, drill into their empty heads and hand them out to an agonizing death. It’s silly, he’s a grown man, not that angry kid anymore. He doesn’t need your protection, he never has. Bakugou has gone through hell and come back alive, stronger than ever, so you want to believe him when he says it's fine. 

“It still shouldn’t be like that, you know, normal.” His hand goes over the same spot again and again, wiping the already dry plate with the kitchen cloth. 

“Yeah it shouldn’t, but it is, so.” He thinks his answer is a bit too negative, too sad. Bakugou doesn’t enjoy drawing the victim card, but he knows it sticks to him everywhere he goes though it's invisible to most. “Don’t think I always accept that, you know that if needed I will stand my ground. This time it wasn’t so smart to fight, but the next time it may be worth it.” 

“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.” You’re still inside your own head, going through every shitty experience he must have had. Why do you do this to yourself? 

After a moment of silence he cleans his throat one more time, deciding to change the subject.

“Hey, sorry for Kaminari. Not just today but back to the first day, he’s been acting weird because I told him not to act weird around you. Should’ve known it would backfire.” 

“Don’t worry, he’s just… not aware of many things.” You gift him a tight-lipped smile. It’s okay, everything is fine.

“Yeah well, I guess you’re used to Shouto who’s actually worse. That menace, I bet It’s not a coincidence I’m here as well.” 

His comment takes you off guard, and it makes you giggle. Bakugou smiles, eyes softening at the sight, and he laughs too. 

You have to admit you thought the same, not really convinced with his “I miss my buddies” act. Your friend is known for proclaiming himself as a professional matchmaker, so when you heard his brilliant idea you had your suspicions. “Ugh don’t even mention it, I interrogated him for days, but he never broke.”

“He’s too strong.” He’s joking, and you’re laughing. If you stop for a second to take in what’s going on you're sure you’ll cry. “Though if he actually had a plan, he wouldn’t have invited Ochako. God I swear she probably has a voodoo doll of me hidden under her pillow, pokes it with needles every time she goes to bed.” 

“Hey! Don’t talk about my girl like that! She would never.” Feigning seriousness, you look him dead in the eye, then letting out a snort that evolves into a full-on cackle, not even believing the bullshit you’re saying. Of course she would do it, and more. 

“Right, sure.” He rolls his eyes.

You take some time to regain your breath, holding a hand over your stomach to stop the pain. 

Bakugou stares, has been doing so since he got here. “What?” You’re still trying to compose yourself, lose hairs falling in front of your eyes. He swallows. 

“It’s nice to see you happy.” His words are genuine. Soft. 

You take a deep breath and straighten your back, grabbing another dish. “In general? Or because you’re the one making me laugh?” 

He can tell you don’t mean to attack him, after years by your side he’d recognize your teasing tone anywhere. “Why not both?” 

It’s funny, to be in this position. You with your hands soaked, the useless gloves only for decoration, and Bakugou with a kitchen cloth in hand doing part of his work as well. A familiar feeling makes its way up your throat, and you push it down. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Two months.” He answers quickly, like if he takes too long you might slip away. Bakugou never hopes, but for you he’d even pray. 

“Hm.” Many things could happen in two months, but not enough to leave a scar, you think. “Where are you going after that?” You turn the tap off and turn around, leaning back against the sink and watching his arms flex as he stretches to place a glass in the top cabinet. His muscles have gotten bigger, you’ve seen his naked body a million times, but here up close and clothed it holds a different meaning- forbidden. Tempting. 

He stares back, eyes flying down to your lips and back to your eyes. “I got a contact in this other agency, says there’ll be an open spot for me.” Same old story. But you’re not the same old you. 

“Hm.” 

-

Your back hits the mattress but you’ve got no time to complain, as a blonde mop of hair kneels between your legs and lifts up your summer dress. Bakugou’s tongue is buried inside your cunt, nose nudging at your clit and hands gripping your thighs to keep your legs wide open. A desperate whine leaves your mouth, and you curse yourself for your lack of restraint, giving in so easily to the man you’ve cried rivers for. 

His bare back is displayed beneath you, and you take it as your chance to scratch it, leaving marks for the world to see. This time Bakugou is the one moaning, sending the vibrations straight into your core, an arch forming at the low of your back. “Fuck, Katsuki.” He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, devouring you even more intently. Your hands move up to tangle in his ashy strands, pulling and gaining a different sound each time. It’s hot, seeing him so pliant, panting between your folds and determined to make you reach heaven. 

His tongue abandons your hole and is replaced by two fingers, moving up to lap at your clit as he fucks into you- hitting that gummy spot that makes you see stars. “Shit sh-there! Right there ‘suki ah-” His name gets shorter with every thrust, planting in his mind the goal of turning you nonverbal.  

Even once you reach your high, he’s still on you. Slightly mean at first, not leaving you alone and overstimulating you. But finishing off with a peck to your nub, sweet, loving. He lifts himself up and lays next to you on the unmade bed, left arm across your rib cage and nose buried in your neck. For a second your mind conjures up images of him loving other people, but it all quickly fades away. Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t have sex, he makes love. He shows it in the way he touches you, not to take but to give, not because he’s thirsty but because he simply cares. The reminder threatens to awaken your fight or flight responses, but his strong arms keep you grounded. This is not love making, the weight of your soul has left an indent in his heart so it’s natural for him to want you. So you lie to yourself, convincing your heart he’s not here because he loves you but because you’re familiar. (It’s to no use, the flaming passion in his eyes is not lust and you know that, but you can’t admit this is a mistake. Not yet)

Without waiting any longer, and trying not to give it much thought, you manage to turn him around, so he lays on his back. The scars decorating his torso shine in the morning light seeping through the curtains, and your hand follows the line of every healed wound. His arm hairs raise up and his breath hatches, eyes burning into yours. 

Wet lips meet his neck, making their way down to his chest and when you kiss under his nipples his eyes fill with tears. It’s been so long since he’s felt this, the touch of someone who knows how to touch him, how to love him. Bakugou’s mouth is dry but the place between his legs isn’t. Should he stop you? What if it’s too late to try this? What if he no longer likes it? More questions flood his mind, and by the time he’s reached absurdity you’re already taking his shorts off. 

His body has already surrendered to you, but his mind is still spinning in the same spot. What if you no longer like him? But you do, because you don’t dive into him like a feral animal but go down slowly instead, taking your time and giving him space to grow used to the sensations. On you this would feel painfully slow, too boring, not enough. But on him it’s paradise. Your tongue has wandered every inch of his cunt, but has yet to kiss his clit, pulsating expectantly. Bakugou’s tummy fills with butterflies, and you smile at the sight of fists closed around a handful of cover sheets- head to the side, your scent impregnated on the pillow makes him go nuts. More. But he doesn’t ask for it, because he knows it will be too much. Instead, he enjoys your sweet torture, edging him closer with every second. 

The art of eating out Bakugou Katsuki is one you’re proud to say you’ve mastered. It took time, first he had to let you in and then you had to learn how to do it the way he liked it. Everyone knows he’s a control freak, so his performance in bed was never a surprise to you. He knew what he wanted and if you couldn’t give it to him then he didn’t want you- deeming you useless and unworthy. 

He’s putty in your hands, giving in to your touch and trusting you won’t hurt him. When he cums he’s silent, but not quiet. Deep, shaky breaths and eyes squeezed shut, trying to come back down from his high before his face turns red- still that shy boy you fell in love with. 

This sequence keeps repeating itself in your head for the next two days, until it manifests in real life again. And again. And again.

Bakugou’s hands seem to always find their way onto your skin, no matter where you are. His arms wrap around you from behind as he follows you into the garage- down and settling on your lower belly, thumbs slipping underneath your top and trailing up your belly button. The rest of your friends are all by the pool, waiting for you to grab the beach ball. Wet kisses down your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh. Why were you here again?

His nose tickles your ear, and you giggle, grabbing onto his hands and keeping them from climbing upwards. “If I don’t go out there soon they’ll send in Kaminari, or worse. Ochako.” His face scrunches up at the sound of her name. 

“They won’t find us if we go upstairs and stay quiet.” Kiss, nip, kiss. Face now buried on your shoulder. 

“Katsuki…” 

And the never-ending cycle would start again. Your friends pretty much already know by now, though you’re surprised they haven’t tried to talk you out of it yet. Todoroki is the only one who’s shown his support, (eager to indulge in his mischief) continuing to create situations where you’re both forced to be left alone together.

There’s no more bread? Why don’t you go? Bakugou go with her so she doesn’t get lost. 

Hey. You’re both on cleaning duty for the night.  

Bakugou take my seat. I want to be next to Sero. 

Ochako still sends him nasty glares, but she hasn’t objected. 

-

Once your little vacation is over, you all go back to your normal boring lives, and you have to come to terms with the sad realization that your daydream is over. Except Bakugou still has a month and a half left. He’ll be staying over at his parents, maybe you’ll get to see him more often, now that you’re working for them. It’s a tricky thought, you tell yourself you’re not eager to see him, you’re just excited about this new opportunity and it’s got nothing to do with him. 

“Hey son, why don’t you help us out? There are some prototypes that need testing.” Masaru has always liked you two together, inviting you over for dinner even more often this past year now that his only boy isn’t close. 

“Sure”

It’s all a trick. His dad leaves it all to you, excusing himself out of the workshop and never coming back. You’re stuck with seven arm weapon prototypes and a tall, blushing man. 

Bakugou feels dumb, like a little kid. He can’t understand what is so special about your greasy fingers dancing all over his skin as you secure the arm cannon. Maybe you’re too close, and between his elevated body temperature and the growing heat in the studio it’s only natural his cheeks will burn. Again, dumb. He’s been closer to you, much closer, just a week ago. His face had been suffocating against your own heat for fucks sake, and he didn’t feel like fainting back then. 

“It’s so tight, I don’t think it’ll be safe to-”

“Just put it on!” He can’t stand your mumbling and poor wording, not right now. Still there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from picturing you above him, chest heaving and covered in sweat as you try to fill him up with your pink stra-

“There we go! Holy shit that was hard.” 

Though Bakugou is not a fan of this reacquired excitement after months of relying solely on the use of his own fingers, it’s still not what rules his worries. It’s been years since he’s accepted the fact that yes, he wants you and there’s nothing he can do about it- but it’d be dumb to leave out the fact that his reaction has a cause, and it’s directly connected to his heart. At first, he thought he’d be able to just enjoy your touch, but now he finds himself craving a different sort of intimacy, one he’s not sure you’ll be willing to give to him. 

Still, he manages, stealing soft kisses when you’re too occupied moaning into his ear, holding you closer than what’s proper for two people in your situation. You don’t push him away when he stays the night, or when he shamelessly shows up announced with a bag of take out in hand. Cuddles after sex is one of his rules so you don’t get to complain against it, but he’s not sure how appropriate it is to press his body onto yours with the thought of fusing your souls into one. All he does know is that you always give in, as if you want it as much as he does. 

Your hands travel up and down his spine, jumping from freckle to scar to freckle again. His breathing is steady, unlike moments ago. It’s contagious, the warmth his body irradiates as it lays on top of yours, filling you with serenity. Your fingers scratch his undercut and his body shifts, pressing you further against the mattress in his childhood bed. Katsuki turns his head and leaves a trail of pecks on the side of your neck, igniting a rush of goosebumps down your arms and legs. You feel him smile against your skin. 

“It’s really going to hurt this time.” Your words break the lovely bubble that surrounds you. 

Unlike the last time, you and Bakugou have been talking. A lot. About his future, and about your current present. He’s made it clear he’s still leaving, and you’ve promised yourself not to blame him. You choose to be with him right now, even if it’ll break you later. 

The blonde lets out a heavy sigh, his rib cage expanding against your tummy. You wish you could turn him into a pocket size human, you’d keep him with you at all times and take him everywhere you go. 

“Yeah, it’ll be pretty shitty.” 

He wishes you’d ask him to stay. Just one word and he’d throw everything out the window, forcing himself down your throat and getting comfy in the nooks of your heart. He knows you’ll never say it- no, you’d never do that to him. And he wouldn’t ask it of you, to leave your dream behind and join him. He’s not that selfish. 

-

The drive to the airport seems too short. Before you know it, he’s already done his check-in, standing in front of his parents and getting ready to say goodbye. You can’t help but think this is how it should’ve been the last time. He shouldn’t have boarded that plane with the bitter remnants of a breakup lingering on his tongue, as he’s set to face a new place all by himself. No, this time you’re doing it right. 

Mitsuki holds on to him for a while, judging his choice of clothes and asking for the hundredth time if he’s got his passport with him. “Ma, I’ve got everything so quit your worrying.” His tone is rough, just like his mother’s. “I promise I’ll call you when we Iand, okay?” 

She sniffs and fights to hold back the tears, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at the ground. Masaru’s eyes have been red and puffy since he got out of the car, he’s already done his fair share of crying and pulls his wife closer to soothe her sadness. 

Finally, he turns to look at you. He’s as stiff as a board, straight back and heavy eyes. But his lips quiver for a second, as he extends his arms out to you for a hug. You let him wrap you up in his warmth, burying your face in his chest and inhaling his smell for one last time- you wish you could store it in a bottle, take it with you at all times.

Bakugou kisses the top of your head and nuzzles his face into your hair, exhaling loudly. “I’m gonna miss you.” He whispers it, only meant for you to hear.

You don’t say it back, doing so will only be grieving in advance a loss that hasn’t happened yet. For this moment, right now, he’s still yours. 

A voice over the speakers calls for the passengers of his flight, and he has to let go of you. Yet his hands are still on the small of your back, fingers clasped together and eyes now staring at yours. He leans down and kisses your forehead, then your nose and eventually your lips. 

“Katsuki, don’t.” 

But he doesn’t listen, moving his hands to cradle your face and inch closer until his open mouth is set atop of yours. The voice echoes through the speakers and he deepens the kiss. When you break apart your face is wet, tears decorate your cheeks just like his. 

With your foreheads pressed together he says it again. “I’ll miss you.” You push him away, pulling every ugly face available to stop you from breaking down in front of him. 

You watch him disappear in the sea of people and suitcases. A gentle hand squeezes your shoulder. Mitsuki. She looks even worse than you, and you can tell this isn’t as bad as the first time. You hug her, hiding your face in the crook of her neck and finally letting it all out. 

The ride back home is silent, though Masaru tries to cheer you all up with work talk. It makes you smile; how different he is from his son.

And you cry again. 

3. (rotten core, predictable mistakes)

“Bakugou?” 

The other side of the screen emits only silence. Maybe if you weren’t being woken up at four in the morning, you’d be able to distinguish his breathing.

“Hello?” you try again.

This time you hear some ruffling, it’s not paper but it isn’t bed sheets either. At least it means he’s right there. Luckily your tired mind is too slow to jump to the worst-case scenario, so before you start picturing him lying on the floor of his apartment all bloody and bruised, he’s already speaking.

“I saw your picture, the one you sent me yesterday.” You can tell he’s been crying. “I was busy, so I guess I didn't realize I had opened your chat. I liked the dog, the one with the green collar.”

This is the fourth time this month. Lately you’ve both been very busy, finally falling into your usual schedules and being swallowed by work. The first months after your summer adventures were heaven, some part of you still believes that might have all been a dream.

He was so sweet, so present. You were so eager, genuinely happy. Even if he wasn’t next to you, Bakugou would have the decency to call you during lunch break instead of ungodly hours, always keeping in mind your normal work shifts in comparison to his. He would tell you about his day and you would ramble about your own stuff, exchanging pictures and sometimes videos. You weren’t dating, but you weren’t strangers either. 

Back then it wasn’t hard for you to text him good morning and check the weather in his city to remind him to take a coat with him to work. None of it was necessary but you knew it made him start the day with a smile drawn on his face.

Half into the second month, things started to fall apart. Hero work got real, with all that it entails. Bakugou’s battered face would appear on the news and you’d run to the phone, calling his parents when he wouldn’t pick up. You knew what it meant to love someone like him, with a job like this. But it was different when you couldn’t be by his side. Mitsuki and Masaru understood you, letting you stay over at their house to be there when news came. Still, that didn’t stop you from bombarding his phone, planting the seed of a possible fight. If only you could just not care.

The first real argument you had over the phone was one you should’ve seen coming. Bakugou had his ass beaten by a villain and didn’t give signs of life for a whole week. He didn’t text any of his friends, nor his parents, and he obviously didn’t talk to you. You weren’t really dating after all so you shouldn’t have expected special treatment.

“Could you fucking stop.” Those were the first words he said to you.

You had stopped calling and resigned to just text him, like everyone else did. But when his contact showed up on your screen during a shift at work, you dropped everything to answer.

“I’m fine just- I need to be alone.” He didn’t wait for you to say anything, just hung up on you.

You’d known Bakugou for years, enough to know he’s not a loser. These recent encounters with villains had left him rather… sensitive. Maybe you were used to his strenuous confidence, acting as a cover for his own insecurities hidden deep below his ego- it wasn’t weird to see him down, but it wasn’t common for him to not try to get back up. So naturally you worried. Everyone did.

For the following week all you did was wait for his call. Feeling as useless as ever. Little by little he started to talk again, first a picture of a stray cat, followed by a good morning text. Things were almost back to how they used to be before. You avoided hero talk, and he started to call more often. You could see he was sorry, though he never apologized for disappearing and leaving you sick worried for a week, he was desperately trying to make it up to you.

After that the midnight calls became a thing. You were too busy at work, not as eager to chat during lunch break- your only break. Going back home and just passing out, only picking up the phone to order some food and check emails. You talked to his parents a few times about him. The three of you agreed that he needed help, whether it was therapy or friends, Bakugou wasn’t made for bottling up- but that’s just exactly what he was known for. Still, you never suggested it, never even mentioned it. You were too tired, too busy, and he was too far, too stubborn. When he took notice of your distance, he panicked.

“Bakugou? It’s one a.m what happened?” The first time he called you were scared. Body jumping straight into action, ready to run over to his parents and find a way to help him out.

“I'm fine! Don’t worry I- I just wanted to talk. We haven’t in a while, you know.”

You were happy at first, something about these talks made a rush of excitement run through your body, like a kid breaking curfew. There was an unfamiliar sincerity in his voice, it made your heart ache, but you were glad he was reaching out for help. 

Then it became too much. He was too anxious, too volatile. And somehow, always too late.

“You looked pretty too.” I should be holding you close. “My mom told me you started-”

“Katsuki.” You cut him off, tired of hearing him dance around what he actually wants to say.

“Hm? What?” 

You leave an open spot, the chance for him to finally say it.

“I miss you.” He doesn’t, so you do. Still a coward. 

His stutter reaches your ear, more ruffling and tussling. What on earth is he doing? 

“Got my scarf stuck on my zipper, sorry.” 

Distance does something weird to the man you love, it reminds you why you never took the risk. 

You curl your body into a ball, hidden under the covers with your phone laying on the mattress next to your head. “Katsuki.” Tears begin to fall down. 

“Hm?” You wonder if he knows what’s coming. He probably does.

“Don’t call me anymore. Please.” You whisper the words, trying to dull the edge of the blade. 

He hangs up on you without giving an answer. You know he’s crying right now, and the thought makes the pain unbearable. 

The next morning you wake up and decide to text him a picture of your window. It’s raining outside and there's a rainbow in the sky. It’s pretty, maybe it’ll cheer him up. You regret your actions, but know they were necessary.

Bakugou takes two weeks to answer your texts, which are very few ‘cause apparently, you’re busy and don’t have as much time for him. He knows what he was doing wasn’t healthy, but you didn’t have to drop it on him like that. Still, he wants you, if this is all you can offer, he’ll take it. 

katsuki - I tried frozen yogurt today

you - was it good?

katsuki - image 

katsuki - yes

It drives him nuts. Six months ago, you were sleeping in his arms, resting your chin on his chest and staring up at him with doe eyes. Six months ago, you were his and he was yours. Six months ago, he was loved. 

His fellow heroes are nice people, that’s the worst part. This is what he wants, but he can’t bring himself to fully enjoy it. You’re everywhere. 

you - look at this

you - image

you - he’s an idiot

A picture of Shouto’s face shines on his screen. He still is in his hero costume, but there’s wax bands covering where his attempt at a mustache should be. You sent it three hours ago, so he doesn’t respond- it’s late where you are and he doesn’t want to wake you. That day he goes to sleep with an ugly sensation settling into the pit of his stomach. Shouto is his friend, and your friend as well. But it’s been so long since he last talked to him, the pro hero could steal you without a hint of guilt in his iced heart. For a moment he forgets he’s talking about Deku’s husband, the same gay guy he’s known since he was fifteen. 

“He still could do it.” You could turn a gay man straight; he has no proof but no doubts either. 

And Todoroki loves like him, soft and quiet. No sex. Maybe he could be your type. Hell even a platonic relationship would work out, he knows the half and half bastard is down to it. Bakugou remembers their long night talks at the dorms, that time when Mina came out and Shouto said he didn’t like sex. It took Katsuki a while to realize his apple didn’t fall far from their tree, mainly because he couldn’t picture himself living in that body back then, so there was no use in worrying about things he would never try. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I would love to spend the rest of my days with a loved one. But I don’t want romance, does that make sense? I’ve heard people date, but they don’t really- it’s like a really intense friendship.”

“All your friendships are intense, Mina.”

“Yes! Exactly, I would settle down with any- with all of you! I would love to sleep in the same bed and kiss your cheeks and raise children together! Kiri we could get a dog!” She had gained puzzled stares, a room full of boys in a binary world. 

“Can we get a kitten too?” Todoroki wasn’t much of a talker, compared to his present self he was basically a statue.

“Of course!”

“And I want my own room, I don’t like sharing beds with people.” 

“Sure! Anything you want!” 

He wonders if you’d like that. Maybe you’d move in with him and Deku, give them kids even.

Bakugou catches himself before falling down into that spiral, getting under the shower and turning on the cold water, letting it wash away his delusions. It’s his friends he’s talking about, they’d never do him so dirty. But maybe, for your happiness… 

It’s your life, you can do whatever you want. 

The thoughts accumulate and he pushes them to the back of his head, there’s more important things to fill that space with. Bakugou listens to your request and stops calling, maybe takes it too far when he starts ignoring your messages. It’s better this way. You’re not going to wait for him and he’s not going back, so why should he bother keeping in touch if it’s only gonna hurt you both? 

If we ever broke up, would we still be friends? 

Your words haunt him. His answer back then had been a simple no, because he was young and stubborn and couldn’t imagine a world in which he wasn’t your lover. Now that’s the world he lives in, and his answer remains the same. 

4. (closing act)

Ten months and twenty-seven days. One winter, one spring and one summer since you last spoke to Katsuki. You don’t blame him. 

sho - he doesn’t have to come

sho- i can always see him some other day

The holidays are just around the corner and all of your hero friends are taking time off- finally. All of them, including Bakugou. To be honest you didn’t expect him to accept Shouto’s invitation, knowing you are gonna be there as well and considering everything that had gone down between you two. Maybe he’s no longer offended, willing to be civilized and even friendly. It's  been a while. Still, you don’t get your hopes up. 

you - don’t worry i’m cool with it 

sho - k

It sucks to share friends with him, even though you've always been sure Shouto would never take a side, this time it feels like he has. He may not be as keen on hurting him as Ochako is, but he’s shared his thoughts on his friend’s behavior- I understand the need to flee, talking about emotions can be very frightening, but he’s a grown man. And most important, he was your friend once. I can’t imagine fighting with you and not trying to make up right after, I also can’t imagine him wanting that. It’s strange, maybe he needs time to sort things out. 

Again, you don’t blame him. You were the one who cut him off. You were the one who stopped texting when he stopped answering., knowing damn well he's not one to chase. You both gave up. 

sho - just now im here for you

Back again at Todoroki’s summer house, but now fully prepared for the winter season, you feel tiny. Small. There’s so many people everywhere you look it’s a bit overwhelming. One catch of ashy blonde hair has you meddling with strangers, starting small talks and pushing champagne down your throat. All to forget about his presence, to keep you busy and out of his way. And Bakugou does the same, avoiding entering any room you walk in, sticking to Kirishima’s side until he warns him- “I’m gonna go say hi, but you can wait here if it’s too awkward-” “Tch, fuck off.” 

The Christmas decorations are pretty, the big, ornamented tree in the living room gets all the compliments but your eyes are set on the gingerbread cookies Fuyumi brought. 

“You seriously made this?” She nods, a proud smile spreading on her lips. Her mother joins her side, hugging her arm and resting her head on her shoulder. 

“They’re so pretty my love.” Rei's voice is sweet and tender, motherly. 

It’s nice to see them happy. 

You settle next to them at the dinner table, asking about Touya’s recovery and Natsu’s absence. A few years ago they would’ve deflated, Rei would’ve excused herself to the bathroom leaving Fuyumi to answer all the harsh questions. Now their eyes shimmer and shine, the boys are doing well! Touya is still in rehab and looking better every day, showing signs of a possible re-integration into society which excites and frightens them at the same time. 

“They told us there may be a chance he relapses, but it’s the risk to take if he wants to have a normal life.” 

The shortest of the siblings is spending the holidays in Okinawa with his fiancé’s family, and you let out an audible gasp at the news.

“He’s engaged? Shouto! That little bastard didn’t tell me- oh! I’m gonna rip him to shreds!” 

Your voice is unescapable. Bakugou can hear you laugh, hiss, complain and even pout form his seat at the far end of the table, away from you. He had forced Kirishima to a secluded spot, between some B-list heroes Shouto is friends with- his social butterfly of a friend moping next to him. 

“Why is she so fucking loud.” It’s not a question, and it’s only meant for Kirishima, but the brunette on his other side sends him a nasty side eye. 

“Dude, you’re being rude.” Eijirou warns him, longingly staring at his friends conversing on the opposite end.

“And she’s being annoying.” That earns him a smack to his head, which he fully accepts as the words of his childhood therapist echoe in his mind. 

That anger, that fury you’re throwing at others, it’s fully yours. You have to listen to it, not push it deep and far away, otherwise it’s going to come up in a violent spurt and it’ll harm you and the ones you love. Being strong is all about letting yourself be weak, Katsuki. 

He wishes he were in the mood to channel that energy. 

“You’re such a dick!” Though he does find your voice infuriating, he still can’t help looking at you. Arms up in the air and ready to slap Todoroki across the face. If he weren’t feeling so bitter, he’d laugh. “I’m calling him once we’re done eating, I can’t believe neither of you said anything! This is a big thing!” 

“I'll let you put rockets in my suit's pants as a revenge.” Shouto is joking but his face muscles stay unmoving. 

“Wait, you’re the one who works with the Bakugou’s? I knew your face sounded familiar!” Patch, Shouto’s sidekick, shines a bright smile your way. “That must be so cool!” 

He’s barely twenty, a cheery boy with dimples like Deku’s. “Yeah, it is pretty awesome. I designed Ingenium’s last costume upgrade, don’t know if you’ve seen it. With the boosters.” Todoroki drama long forgotten; you dive in for a possibly new client.

“Oh I did! And the little refreshing station, I watched a video of a dutch engineer breaking down the mechanics behind it and it was crazy!” His excitement is contagious, fills your chest with pride and suddenly you’re bragging about your other inventions, showering in compliments and enjoying every single second of it. 

Most eyes are on you, and little by little everyone joins in on your conversation. Everyone but him. 

“Man, I wanted so badly to be part of the support team when I was a kid!” 

“It’s never too late to try, we could use more hands honestly.” 

“I don’t know,” Suna says, because yes now you’re on a first name basis, “I’ve worked so hard to become a hero- I can’t back down now you know.”

Ugh, same old story.

You sigh and tch at him. “You heroes are all the same. Still, I stand by what I said, it’s never too late. There’s no shame in waking up tomorrow and deciding you want to quit, open a bakery and live a simple life.”

You can feel Bakugou’s response before you hear it, buzzing in your ears like a memorized speech from a long time ago. He straightens his back, trying to seem as big as possible and opening his big, loud, mouth.

“Don’t say that to the kid. He’s gotta fight for what he wants, if he thinks he can make it he shouldn’t give up just ‘cause he’s scared.” It’s the first thing he has said to you all night. And it’s not a bark but he sure as hell is showing his teeth. 

“Oh Dynamight sir! Don’t worry, I’m not quitting. It’s just a silly little dream of mine, sort of a if I weren’t a hero what would I be? kinda thing. A plan B.” His chubby cheeks are as red as Katsuki’s ears, hands waving apologetically.

Rolling your eyes, you stop Suna's hands and throw him an apologetic smile, turning back to face your ex. “I’m not telling him to quit, Bakugou.” You grit your teeth, trying your best to keep your composure and not ruin dinner for everyone else. “He was admiring my work and I encouraged him to do whatever he wants, whether it’s hero work or to help from the sidelines.” 

With tense shoulders and walls built all the way up, you wait for the explosion. But he doesn’t fight back- not that it was a fight, not nearly an argument, no. Still he takes his plate and gets up, followed by Kirishima and Mina as they excuse themselves. You stay and reassure the poor rookie, looking pale and mumbling so sorry’s with his head hanging low. Ochako gives you a look from the other side of the table, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips. Looks like someone is in a bad mood. 

The rest of the evening goes according to plan- Shouto’s plan (which is actually Fuyumi’s). Dessert is served along with champagne, white sparkly alcohol setting the Christmassy mood. You can tell your friend was able to slide his ideas past his sister’s filters as you dig your teeth into a chocolate chip cupcake with an icing decoration that simulates a snowman. That last interaction with Bakugou has left you uneasy, making out his face in places he actually isn’t and wondering if you did give bad advice to a soon-to-be hero.

Though it’s an opinion you’ve had for many years, it is heavily interlaced with your own experience. With him. But how could it not be? Your ex-boyfriend is the perfect example, the on-going, repetitive case of the big, scary hero who will throw everything out the window for a chance at greatness. Yes, there’s people with ambition, it happens to those who have big dreams that aren’t easy to obtain. Then there’s heroes. It’s not bad if a medical student wants to drop out and give out midway, to quit and major in arts- it sure is a hell of a decision to make, but it’s not the end of a world. But heroes, they believe that because their jobs are strictly connected to saving people’s lives and making the world a better place, there’s not such a thing as quitting. And people think so too, condemning those who dare take a step back and judging the ones who refuse to go down that path, no matter how helpful their quirks are. So, to have superiors like Bakugou who can’t give in to their weaknesses and take a minute to think about themselves only contributes to the problem. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tsuyu’s voice interrupts your internal monologue, and it’s only then you realize you’ve been ruminating on the very same topic you’ve been wishing to avoid tonight. Past mistakes and lost chances.

Still your head is running, making it hard to figure out what people are saying- there’s a voice at the back telling you to go mend things with him, one you try very hard to ignore. Stretching your neck and standing on tippy toes, you look for him and find him standing on the other side of the room, of course. His huge form blocks the staircase, where both Mina and Kirishima are seated and talking animatedly. 

“Hm. I´ll be right back.”

Pushing through the bodies you manage to reach where he stands, taking a deep breath before poking his shoulder. You feel like a little kid, just like back then when you were fifteen with a massive crush on that demon boy two years older than you. Blonde spiky hair, black nails and dark eyeliner, a toothy grin that made your heart beat rapidly (everyone’s did, but mostly out of fear). That time Hatsume found out about your little boy crush and tried to set you up, only to get rejected in front of the whole school. (he wasn’t interested in dating; he didn’t do girly stuff- and you probably wouldn't’ want him if you knew just how much he had in common with you)

Katsuki turns around with a scowl, facade fading as soon as he recognizes your face, but building his walls back up once he remembers your status. 

“What?” He means to hurt, scare you away, but you’ve fought enough times with him to know what really goes on in his head. 

“We shouldn’t fight over stupid things, we’re here to have a nice evening just like everyone else. Let’s not spoil it for everyone else, okay?” You’re sure it’s pretty clear that you don’t want to argue. All he hears is you making fun of him. 

But Kirishima's eyes are on him, as well as Mina's. They've done well taming his temper and putting out the fire, he's not going to shit on their work.

So he just rolls his eyes and nods, doesn't even spare you a glance. You wait for him to burst, show his teeth and bite. But like before, Katsuki just shrugs, turning back around and giving you his back. 

It takes you a second to process his reaction, surely there's more to say. But that's all you get. "Oh- okay. Fine, I guess." Mina gives you a sympathetic smile. She's on his side, but she likes you. 

There are no sides. But there are. 

The silence is replaced by distant chattery, and you're pulled back to reality. It's dumb, you tell yourself, to wait for him to lose it. Mean. After all, this is better. Healthier. 

But it just doesn't feel like him. And it doesn't feel like you. A sudden urge to cry settles on your throat and you have to excuse yourself back to where your friends are. The weird interaction plays in your head on repeat, an inescapable loop of shameless self-boycotting. You’re young again, and he’s too- which means he’s not nice, and he doesn’t like you.

-

Dinner is over and most guests have already left, except for Shouto’s close friends and family. Some of you have decided to stay and help him tidy up, which translates to: Bakugou, Momo, Kirishima and you will be doing the dishes, vacuuming the floors and packing all the leftovers in different containers- while Mina, Kaminari, Sero and Shouto play Mario Kart in the living room. Ochako and Tsuyu keep you company in the kitchen, watching you load the dishwasher. Momo comes and goes, taking stuff from one room to another and bringing you new dirty bowls every now and then. At some point Bakugou shows up with glasses piled up on each hand, placing them on the sink and looking down at the space left on the machine. You open your mouth to comment on the Todoroki’s new acquisition. Fuyumi was the one who took the initiative after inviting her friends over for a nice vacation, only to find months old dishes with fluffy mold on them covering the counter. Shouto’s doing, of course. But when you turn around to laugh at his outraged expression you realize he’s gone. Ochako and Tsuyu stare at you, and before you can stop them, they go on listing different ways to make him suffer. 

“It’s fine, what I said earlier must have bothered him. The whole hero thing. And we haven’t talked in months so it’s not as easy as to simply fall back into friendly territory." Bakugou wouldn't want that, to be just friends, though the just in that affirmation has always made your heart ache. Why isn't it enough? "It was dumb I shouldn’t have expected him to just laugh and be fine with it.” You don’t want to justify his behavior, especially when it’s your friends on the hearing end. They already hate his guts, so no matter how hard you try to explain this is the result of both your mistakes, they’ll still want his head on a stick. “He’s not even mad, really. We’re both just hurt, and pretending nothing happened is not gonna make it all better.”

Tsuyu seems to actually be listening, maybe even considering your point. But Ochako, oh dear lord. You’d rather not know what she thinks. 

Midnight comes around and Momo takes out the heavy artillery. 

“Who wants chamomile? This one has cinnamon too and I bet it’ll go good with honey. So, Bakugou? This sounds like you.” 

You take strawberry tea with a dash of milk, her expensive herbs so comforting and soul cleansing. Maybe it’s a mind trick, how they come in pretty bags and are all neatly placed in a wooden box. So delicate. Convincing you they have the solution to all your problems.

Twenty minutes into this late-night snacking session, you realize the seating arrangements are quite similar to the ones you fell into last summer. You’re nestle on the couch between Kaminari and Kirishima, with Ochako by your feet (now with the addition of Tsuyu between her legs, resting her head on her chest). Shouto and Momo sit across from each other on the big, royal-like armchairs, while Sero, Bakugou and Mina sit on the floor (on the other side of the coffee table, far from Uraraka’s threatening stare). The only ones missing are Jirou and Izuku, who is actually Deku tonight. Your mind travels down that road again. Japan’s number ten hero, up in the charts with the big fish. Shouto came in seventeenth place this week, and Momo is two numbers up. Still, they’re not half as known as Deku, the rumored to be new symbol of piece- with his blinding smile and shiny future ahead. Your eyes find Shouto’s, and he looks fine. It’s not the first time it happens, Izuku hasn’t been here for his past two birthdays and keeps on missing out on important dates. But your friend isn’t much a quality time person, leaning onto words of affirmation and physical touch kinda lover. Still, it must be hard, you think. 

Bakugou’s placement is unknown to you, has been ever since he moved abroad. Why would you check? It doesn’t affect you anymore. 

“So… I heard Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight is doing well out there with the foreigners.” Kaminari’s teasing tone disrupts your peace, as usual. He always picks on him for his high school hero name, though he changed it to just Dynamight a few years back. You were the only other human who was able to mention it and leave to tell the tale.

Bakugou growls.

“Did you break any laws yet? Maybe the governor’s building?” Another reference to his early hero days, when he was reckless and unprofessional. His baby face appeared on the news every week, and you would take a pic of his scowl live on tv! to print it out and add it to your Dynamight cork board. Days without incidents: 5 0.

“It’s actually going pretty well. I mean, they don't exactly love me out there, but I don't really like them either, so.” You expect him to stop there, though it’s his friends asking he’s never one to open up much. “I'm sort of friends with this one hero, has a cool quirk similar to Eiji’s so we can train without worrying much about his face blowing off." There’s a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. 

And you remember. This guy must be the one you know as Kento, big buff dude with scales for skin. “Oh! The guy with the orange cat, right?” You’re suddenly excited. Katsuki had tried many times to befriend him, but every day he’d call you to tell you about a new embarrassing exchange.

“I swear every time I gather courage to speak to him someone else comes barging in! And I don’t want to text him, I see him every day and we’re gym buddies. I have plenty of chances to ask him to hang out.” 

“You sound like a schoolgirl with a crush, ‘Ki.” You giggle. 

“Shut up.” You can hear him sigh over the phone, he’s probably running his hands down his face, skin turning red. “He has an orange cat, and he bought him a Dynamight hat to piss me off. How doesn’t that make us friends already? Yet he never asks me out to lunch, or texts me to go train together, it’s all just coincidence!” 

He had been so upset back then, rummaging his head for the perfect plan to befriend this man. And he had finally done it. 

Without looking your way, Katsuki answers and awkward “Uh yeah, anyway so-” and keeps on talking about his new friend. It throws you off a bit, smile fading quickly as your hands search for your phone. You open three different apps, pretending nothing happened and trying to gain back the confidence he stripped from you. He’s hurt, you repeat in your head, mostly to make yourself feel better.

“-and I finally got the hang of that last move, I just gotta be fast enough to activate my quirk a second before throwing the punch.”

“Oh! I saw it on a video, I think. You were fighting some kind of hybrid villain, right?” He had told you about that move, too. Maybe you didn’t keep track of his name, escalating the charts, but you did check his city’s online newspaper every few weeks. 

All he gives you is a quick glance and a mhm. And that’s all you need really. Okay, got it. 

You shuffle in your seat, uncomfortable. Nose scrunched up, fake smile wavering as you fight to keep the tears inside. You bury your face on your screen once again, ending up in the notes app like a fucking loser. There’s an acid, burning sensation at the top of your stomach, building its way up your esophagus. He looks so cool, so big and happy talking about his new life and the new, super awesome people in it. He’s happy, but something about his happiness feels bitter to you, rotten. You’re not sure how much of it is true, but you can’t condemn him to a miserable life just because of who he is. He’s not crying over the phone, not even mentioning the orange cat or the old lady from the ice cream shop down his street. You hate to think he’s leaving all the little details out of the story because you might interrupt him again, disturbing his ideal life. And you can’t even blame him, it was you who cut him off in the first place, so he has every right to put some distance between you two. Maybe he has changed. Maybe this time he is fine. And happy. Without you. 

And then you just can’t take it anymore, how he smiles that wide grin, a loud laugh erupting from the depths of his throat and filling the room with his oh so characteristic pride. 

Ochako shares a glance with Shouto as they notice you getting up and heading to the bathroom. She moves to follow you, but her friend stops her, shaking his head- leave her alone. He’ll check up on you if needed. 

Minutes go by and there’s still no sign of you. Shouto gets up and slithers his way out of the room, unseen. Ochako’s face starts to burn, anger taking over her as she’s forced to watch your friends gawk at Bakugou’s stupid fight with a oh so dangerous! villain. Fucking idiot. 

-

After ten minutes inside the bathroom, you begin to panic. The tears won’t stop coming, and what was supposed to be a quick emotional dump has turned into an embarrassing, sad, full-on breakdown. Your bottom lip quivers and you’re very close to letting an audible cry out. Just then, the door slides open, revealing a stone faced Shouto. Then his mouth twists in an upward, displeasured mock. He doesn’t like seeing you cry, especially when it’s over his very stupid friend. Without emitting a word, he stands in front of you, towering over your body as you sit on the lidded toilet with your elbows resting on your knees. 

“I’m fine.” You lie.

Sniff.

“I can see that.” His monotone voice holds a unique humor only meant for someone who truly understands him. 

It stirs the beginning of a laugh, but you’re too busy licking at the stray tears reaching your lips. Still, you think of him fondly. Little, emotionally constipated fifteen-year-old Shouto would have turned around and left you to drown in your sorrow. Yet here he is, all grown up and brave enough to face someone else’s pain without panicking. 

“You should tell me what’s wrong, then I’ll see what I can do.” Sweet, caring Shouto.

Using your left hand to wipe your face, you take a second to respond, turning your body to the side to grab some toilet paper.

“It’s okay Shouto, you can’t help with this.” Your makeup is probably ruined, mascara running down your face and making you look like a clown. You’re in full costume now!

“I can hug you.” 

He’s not the best with words, would rather hear them than say them out loud. But that’s exactly why he’s good when needed, taking his time choosing the perfect set of consonants and vowels. Your friend is right, he can hug you. He doesn’t like it very much, but he will do it for you (because he can and it will make you feel better, without hurting him in any way, only making him slightly uncomfortable). And maybe you feel too brave, overestimating your emotional strength and giving in. But when his arms wrap around your back and pull you in, one hand resting at the back of your neck and stroking your hair, you break down again. 

You can feel his body tense as you snap, holding him tightly and pressing your face against his lower belly. 

“I-It’s just- He’s so-” You say between hiccups. “It hurts Sho, a-and he’s so pretty a-and I- just” 

He doesn’t interrupt you, doesn’t lie and tell you it’s okay, that you’ll get over him because he’s a dick and you’re perfect. That you deserve much better, he’ll come back running in a week! He doesn’t say any of that, because he doesn’t believe it. And maybe that hurts even more, truly realizing he won’t come back even though you do need him. Even if he does need you as well. 

“He’s so happy! A-nd I want- I want him to be happy! But he just- he won’t even loo-look at me!” You let go to grab a handful of toilet paper and blow your nose. Shouto is too nice to have your boogers all over his perfect dress shirt. “I just want to at least- hic - be his friend! That’s all i ask! T-to have a nice c-chat, I can tell him about my life- I work with hi-is parents! His mom loves me!” It doesn’t make any sense what you’re saying, but he can picture an image of what you’re getting at. “Four years, we dated for four years!” More boogers. “A-and now he won’t say hi! No hello, how are you!” You hold your head in your hands, squishing your cheeks in a lame attempt to get your shit together. But your eyes are blurry, and your nose is red. “A-nd it’s all my-y fault” It comes out mixed with a sob, it’s ugly and makes Shouto want to cry too.

He doesn’t take sides, because Bakugou is his friend too. But you’ve been here longer, you know him better and he himself is also in love with an idiot. Shouto knows what it is like to trust someone with your heart and decide they’ll be in charge of it, forever. If Izuku ever- If he even thought of leaving him, of saying goodbye and never talk to him again. He has to take a deep breath and clear his head, that is not happening and it’s not smart of him to join you in this delusion. You need him. Even if it means he’ll have to kick some blonde ass.

-

“Here, take these to the kitchen please.” Momo hands him a tray with all the used cups, including your half empty one. 

You had left a while ago, with Todoroki (of all people) trailing behind. Don’t do this to yourself. Bakugou agreed to come tonight because it was an invitation from his friend, a very busy one he hadn’t seen in over a year. Your presence wasn’t an obstacle big enough to ruin his night. But as he places the metal tray on top of the kitchen counter his mind travels back to your kicked puppy face, legs curled up against your chest and shiny eyes covered in something unbearably sad. He had been rude. He could see it in Mina's not so subtle, deep sighs and Ochako’s knuckle cracking. He’s been behaving like that all evening, pushing you away and ignoring you for the sake of his own well-being. There was a time in high school, after the war and just before he and Deku became friends again, when he had behaved similarly. He felt guilty, so horribly guilty, that he decided to push him away- to focus on bettering himself, he had said. But everyone knew he just couldn’t face the nerd’s forgiving smile and shiny eyes, ready to talk to him, ready to be friends again. And you had done the same, not so forgiving and not so shiny, but ready to forget. The very one thing he could never do.

On his way back to the living room, he decides to take a detour, a wrong turn that leads him to the bathroom you had run to half an hour ago. Shouto is in there with you. His steps grow quicker, cursing the rich for such large, useless corridors, and his mind as well, for making him doubt his friend’s loyalty. He’s in love with shitty Deku, he’s gay. But you’re you, perfect and lovable. And Bakugou is an irrational, jealous man.

When he (finally) reaches your location, his hands in fists by his sides, it takes him an embarrassing amount of strength to knock on the door. He only takes notice of your crying once it comes to a halt- forced, as if you’re trying to patch up a dam with hello kitty stickers.

The door slides open and Todoroki’s tall frame hides you from his prying eyes.

And maybe it’s his crazy mind playing tricks on him, but he swears he looks mad, straightening his stand to seem bigger- just like he had done during dinner.

“Bakugou.” He acknowledges his presence with a sour tone (he’s ready to punch him in the teeth, but Bakugou doesn’t know it.)

“Let me talk to her.” Without waiting for an answer, he moves to push past his slender body, only to be met with an unmoving brick wall, iron grip on the door separating him from you. 

“She doesn’t want to see you right now. Talk later or tell me what you wanna say, I promise I’ll give the message once she feels better.” Because she trusts you, not me? Because you stayed and I left? He doesn’t really say (or think) any of that, and Bakugou knows it.

Still- “Todoroki, fucking move.” He doesn’t yell, because he knows Todoroki and he recognizes that stare. He’s being serious. “Give me ten minutes, go help the others and I’ll be right back.”

The lightness in his words make Shouto’s stomach twist. As if ten minutes were enough to fix the damage he’s done. 

“Bakugou, I'm not gonna leave her. She’s my friend!” As if he’d let him hurt you again.

“She’s my friend too!” He's mad but his eyes are watery, tears threatening to fall. For a second Shouto considers it, giving him one last chance.

But it’s not his decision to make, and he’s already promised he’ll keep you safe. “It doesn’t look like it.” Todoroki mumbles under his breath as he turns around and reaches for the door.

Bakugou doesn’t move to stop him, just watches him go back into the bathroom and close the door right on his face.

-

The next time you see him he's sitting on the sidewalk, right across from your apartment entrance. Bakugou has his fingers locked behind his neck, eyes facing the pavement and big suitcase by his side. You consider turning around and pretend you never saw him, playing dumb like you always do and fleeting. He's scary when he's not mad, his heart open and so vulnerable it burns.

But you know it's not fair, it's not easy to get him this way. So you stay, clearing your throat to get his attention and waiting for the wave to crash into you.

"Hey, sorry to show up like this." Red eyes scan your face for any sign of rejection, any reason for him to stop.

You nibble on your lip, ripping apart the surface layer of dried skin.

Hm.

"I-I wanted to say sorry, for what happened during Christmas." He swallows. "It- I was mean, thought I could see you and be fine but, I guess I'm still a bit of a bitch."

Bakugou rarely says sorry, you're always temped to accept his apologies when they happen.

"It's okay, don't worry about it." Though you do want him to, worry about it. About you. You want him to try, but you can't ask it of him.

"No, it's not. I made you cry, and now Shouto is mad at me- as he should be, honestly, I acted like such a dick-" A sigh interrupts his rant, shaky and genuine.

You stay silent, both staring at the ground and waiting for the other to deliver the final punch. It's funny, how you always seem to end up stuck in the same situation, over and over again. Knowing you have to let go of each other, but not finding the strength to do so.

"You're leaving today?" You jut out your lips and point at his suitcase. Still the same you, with the same traits. Bakugou wants to smile, eyes fixed on your face, the familiar sight now a sting in his guts. How could he hate you?

"Yeah, I'm a bit late actually but- they can wait."

Hm.

People can always wait when it comes to Bakugou Katsuki. If he asked, you'd do it too.

"Well, I just- guess that's it." Of course it is.

Too close to be friends.

Too hurt to be lovers.

"Have a safe flight."

Back to strangers again.

5.(bittersweet)

The charity event takes place in the Todoroki mansion, soon to be turned into a museum filled with Endeavor’s accomplishments. You’re sure Shouto is out there somewhere, maybe standing by the koi ponds and staring off into the water, counting the minutes for it all to be over. So you don’t bother looking for him, it’s to no use trying to snap him out of his trance when he’s like this. 

Though you’re no hero, it’s not uncommon for support engineers to be invited alongside them- especially when you’re friends with the ones up in the charts. The media has gotten used to your face by now, spreading dating rumors here and there that you never address and if you’re lucky promoting your work (how cool they are, how hot the heroes look).

You spot his navy blue suit next to Hawks, his loud laugh impossible to miss. There’s at least four young heroes surrounding them, and it’s surprising to see Bakugou isn’t frowning or shooing them away with a growl. Then you remember that’s not Bakugou, it’s Dynamight. The hero has climbed the charts along with his friends after coming back home, he got a PR team and finally started working on his image. You see his face on plastic cups and children’s lunch boxes, makeshift costumes of his own hero suit crowding the streets every time he wins a fight against a big villain. Dynamight didn’t do well outside of Japan, coming back home after two years, and still isn’t very welcomed out there. But in here? He’s a God. Talks to the press however he pleases but has his own favorite reporters, the ones he trusts will tell the story right- the same ones that get him to do a photoshoot or play a question game with his fans, silly stuff you never thought you’d see him doing. His image has been humanized, brought down to earth for mortals to touch and admire from up close. In your opinion, he’s too close. Too bright at first. You’d like to say you’ve gotten used to it, because what else could you do? Still it’s pathetic, how your stomach twists everytime his face shows up in the big billboard right in front of your balcony, a few buildings away. He doesn’t smile, but he grins, proudly. It’s not quite the same smile you knew, but it’s close enough to hurt. 

He’s single, no kids, no wife. You try not to think about it because it makes you happy, and it shouldn’t make you happy. It doesn’t mean anything. There have been rumors about him and other heroes, but Shouto has always been quick to point out their falsehood- though you never ask him, it’s always him who brings up the subject. Dynamight and Shouto are seen together pretty often, wearing merch of each other and fighting for the fourth place, making sure to catch the awfulest villains they can find and showing off while they’re at it. Neither of them are known for their charisma, unlike Deku who has won the hearts of every civilian in Japan, but they try. 

Still, Shouto and Katsuki are not that close, opting for keeping their private lives separated and secluding to their friend groups. But they do see each other from time to time, at birthday parties and weddings- their hero skins long forgotten. You know they’d be closer if it weren’t for you, and it fills you with guilt every time you see them together. It’s crystal clear how much of Katsuki has stuck to Shouto, you see it in his humor, in his grin, and there’d be more if you hadn’t messed with each other’s hearts. 

And you. You’re closer to Katsuki than your friend is, or will ever be.

After years of working for his parents you’ve accepted his luring presence in the workshop, which then turned to his shadow walking down the office floors halls. You’ve made sure to figure out a way to avoid him, feigning innocence when you enter Mitsuki’s office- I brought you coffee! How is the winter collection going? -, eyes roaming her calendar in search of his name. She knows, and you know because after the third time she started highlighting his visits in orange (for office visits) and green (suit try ons). During orange days you go down to the workshop, taking the opportunity to teach your youngest engineers a trick or two, pretending you’re actually there for them and not for the sake of your teary eyes. Green days are even easier, you’re a big figure in the Bakugou’s industry so there’s no need for you to get your hands dirty with grease, staying within the confines of your private office and checking out projects that need your approval to get started. Dynamight’s suit is one you have memorized by now, always coming in with a detail to fix or a weapon to improve, so you make sure to get the documents sent directly to you- if they were to fall on someone else’s hands they could do it wrong, requiring your assistance later on during the fitting process and that’s an interaction you can’t afford to have. 

Bakugou knows it’s you who patches him up (or his suit, but he likes to think he’s one with it). Still he always asks who’s responsible for the new design, whose idea it was to improve the safety measures he had foregone last time. And the answer is always the same. In some way he feels cared for, it’s a bitter sensation because it’s directly linked up to you. Yet he can’t bring himself to ask for a different person. You may have broken his heart, losing his trust just like he did with yours, but he knows you won’t do the same to Dynamight- you rarely make mistakes, and you certainly won’t make the same mistake twice. Sometimes he finds himself wishing you did. He stands still as your freshman fastens the grenades at his wrists, hopefully looking out the workshop window that lets the light of the hall spill in, waiting to see your face. It never happens, he knows you hide in your office whenever he enters the building, and run down to the machines when he calls for a meeting with his team. That last one makes him lose his marbles. He’s had more than enough arguments with his parents, who let you do as you please and take cover under their wings. You haven’t shown up to a single one of those meetings, though you should be there as his designated engineer. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of it, of his team. 

“Katsuki, has she ever messed up your suit? Huh? No, she hasn’t, so quit your whining and let our colleague do her work. It’s not her fault she’s busy! If she ever has time for your meetings she will be there.” 

His mom is your number one defender, and he can’t comprehend why. Maybe she’s still mad at him for leaving all those years back (or maybe she’s found in you what she wasn’t allowed to love in him). It’s a dangerous thought, one that doesn’t deserve the time and effort to be dissected and put up for study. He knows where it’s rooted and that’s enough. 

Mitsuki never mentions your name, only refers to you as their “colleage” and it drives him insane. But he knows it’s already a lost fight, not worth getting his hands dirty for. 

Katsuki hates any sort of event. It doesn’t matter if it’s for charity, or if it’ll improve his image- this is not what he signed up for, he should be out there fighting crime. He can feel his manager’s eyes digging into his back, analazying his stand and the tone of his voice as he interacts with the rookies. There’s flashes going off in the distance and- how the hell is Hawks so good at this? 

You’re watching too, and it takes every ounce of strength in him to restrain himself from going over and talk to you. It’s been like this for years now, his chest flooding with the urge to say all those things he didn’t say back then and overlapping with what he actually wants to say to you right now. How pretty you look, how much he liked the suit’s latest upgrade. Katsuki has questions that die half way up his throat, choking him to exhaustion. How have you been? Do you still hate him? Are you seeing anyone? Are your parents okay?

His thorax expands and keeps the air inside for a few seconds, slowly exhaling. Katsuki can see you from the corner of his eye, chatting with a waitress, probably waiting for Shouto to come out of his sulk room. His friend hates these events even more than he himself does, but he can’t find pity for Shouto when you’re left all alone in a crowded space.

Dynamite excuses himself and moves out of the group of people circling him, sending Hawks a knowing look- I need a minute. The hybrid is quick to understand, eyes flying to your form and back to Bakugou, eyebrows rising in warning, teasingly. 

The bulky hero makes his way towards you, but you tell yourself he’s going somewhere else. Katsuki wouldn’t dare feed the rumors, he wouldn’t-

Before you can finish that thought, the host gets up on stage and greets the guests. Pro Hero Dynamight stops in his tracks, just a few steps from you. The soury feeling makes him snort, always so close but never quite enough. 

“Nice evening, isn’t it?” A Present Mic knock off screams into the microphone and half the crowd cover their ears. “As you all know, this is a very special day, for today we’re putting down our weapons and raising our wallets in collaboration to Tokio’s Children’s Hospital!” 

Some laugh, some don’t. Bakugou shifts in place, right hand holding a glass of champagne his lips haven’t touched all night. Meanwhile, you’re downing the golden liquid like it’s water, hands clutched over a purse he guesses is brand new, and probably empty (save for your phone). These things always get your nerves on edge, taking care of who you are seen interacting with- mostly criticizing hero suits from your seat amongst your coworkers. But today you’re alone, the only other designers present are part of the rival team and it wouldn’t be good for the Bakugou’s to have their head engineer seen fraternizing with the enemy. 

And Bakugou himself would never approach you in any social situation, it’s a silent agreement between you two that’s been going on for ages. He doesn’t come close, and you stay put, each of you minding your own business. Still that doesn’t stop him from sending you emails meant for his team, because you are part of- 

Katsuki sighs, a heavy sigh. He’s getting tired of your limits, of you running away and avoiding any sort of confrontation involving him. He’s tired of sitting back and giving you space, would rather not see you ever again at all instead of catching glimpses of you around the office, down at the workshop, here at events and galas- with your pretty dresses, fresh face of make up, nervous fingers tapping on your thighs. 

Bakugou Katsuki would never come near you, because he can’t. But Dynamight, basically your boss, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. 

“He’s a bit of an idiot, don’t you think?” His voice is low, whispered, straddling you and sending you forwards, stumbling over your own steps. 

The heroes surrounding you, the few that stayed at the back ignoring the host’s silly jokes, turn to look at you and some even offer their steady hand. You mumble out a string of apologies, eyes down avoiding red ambers. Bakugou-Dynamight swallows, straightents his back and takes a step closer. He’s head to shoulder with you, strong jawline hovering over your form. 

“Why are you so jumpy?”

“Why are you talking to me?” He scoffs at your answer, moody stare making it’s way to his face. 

“Because you’re Dynamight’s support engineer, and he has to talk to you about his suit.” The third person speech makes him cringe, the glass in hand suddenly too inviting.

“Well, Mr. Dynamite can send me an email once he gets home.” You greet your teeth, scowling him for his trespassing.

Once you''ve regained your balance, hands going over your dress to smooth out ny wrinkle, you take a minute to look up at him.

“Bakugou I thought we were on the same page here.”

He rolls his eyes at that, though it’s the first time he’s heard you call for him in so long, it doesn’t sound right. Because his father is a Bakugou, and his mother is too. You have to pronounce that word everytime someone asks you who you work for, what’s the name of the company. It no longer holds the same meaning, you’re not referring to him. 

“Fuck off, you know we’ve never been on the same page.” He’s ruining it, his chance at mending things. Though he’s not so sure that’s what he wanted in the first place. For once in his life he has no plan.

“You’re the one who came up to me, you fuck off!”

“That’s not- I just wanted to talk, like normal people. Can’t we do that?” He’s greeting his teeth too, looking ahead and jaw clenching. 

It’s surprising, seeing him making the first move, to be him the one asking to talk. “So what, you want to be friends now?”

“Fuck no.” It’s an accident, he doesn’t mean to spit it out like that, to refuse your hand like it’s burning hot. But it’s the truth, he can’t do it, not with you.

You’re silent, staring as his mask falls off. For someone used to facing villains all day he sure as hell isn’t as brave as he thinks he is. 

“Should’ve known, you still don’t have the balls to do it.” 

Again you’re young and stupid, waiting for him to start a fight you can win. 

“I thought that was a given.” Dynamight turns to look at you in all his handsome glory, blonde locks cut short and emerald green studs decorating his earlobes. And then his words sink down. 

Your frowns break at the same time, anger turning into giggles you try to fight back. 

“Can’t believe you’re doing trans jokes now.” It’s not a critic, it’s impressive how much he’s grown and how much confidence he’s gained over time. 

“Yeah, well. The fans love it, and I gotta admit it feels good.” You can tell. 

Pro Hero Dynamight didn’t really come out, at least not like other heroes do. One day he simply appeared on tv, sitting on Red Riot’s shoulders as they marched alongside their friends during pride, a pink, blue and white flag tied to his neck. His PR team jumped for his head, begging him to go out on interviews and explain what that was all about. The Bakugou’s building entrance had been flooded with reporters for days, waiting for the hero to show up to a suit try on or trying to catch him leaving. But he had paid them no mind, never really addressing the “issue”. Some were disappointed, because their favorite hero wasn’t speaking up and using his voice to reach millions of people and fight against transphobes, threatening to cancel him on social media and showing up in his manager’s nightmares. Others understood.

It took a whole year for it all to die down, and one more for the public to stop referring to him as the trans hero, going back to his actual hero name. You’d wanted to reach out to him back then, but Katsuki had his friends and you had your own problems.

Now seeing where he is, how far he’s come, it fills you up with pride. A bit of an uncomfortable feeling, somewhat forbidden but so familiar. 

“That’s-that’s great, I’m happy for you.” 

It comes out shaky, your voice betraying you. 

Dynamight hums, licking his lips and pursing them together. Thinking. 

“Are you- How are you doing? I mean, you seem fine but- I don’t know.” He’s cute when he gets awkward, even cuter if he stutters (but that rarely happens).

The crowd begins to move away from the stage, dissipating through the room and falling back into pleasant chatter. 

“Yes- Yes I’m fine, I’m good.”

“Good, good.” 

You stare at him and he stares back, more questions burning at the tip of your tongue. Do you miss me? Can we still be friends? But you already know the answer, and it’s clear things won’t work out. 

“I’m leaving for the U.S next week.” You know, Mitsuki won’t stop crying about it. “Just for a month but, yeah…” 

You hum and nod, and look down at your hands holding on to your stupid purse. No it wouldn’t work out. 

Fem pro hero Bakugo on interviews:

I think girl bakugo would be told to act lady-like her whole life and still manspreads as an adult

Kirishima and bakugou participate in celebrity wrestling matches with other famous pro heros (picture the Logan Paul boxing matches but wrestling)

With all of the bad things going on in the world I give you: good rich person bakugou.

_________________________________________

Bakugou who uses family wealth for good. In an effort to be more hero like, he strolls down the streets of Mustafu giving home cooked food to the homeless in the street.

Bakugou who uses at least two weekends a month to donate time to a soup kitchen near UA. With all of the inflation and animosity in the world, he gives back the only way he knows how: acts of service.

Bakugou who gains a rapport with the locals simply by checking in. Asking one of the regulars he checks in on how her sick son is doing with the medicine he paid for.

Bakugou who was raised by his mother to never make fun of those less monetarily fortunate.

Bakugou who goes out of his way to defend those being picked on for reasons out of their control; picking up trash near makeshift homes, going to protests of anti homeless laws, and starting arguments with assholes in the street that make jokes.

Bakugou is too observant for his own good, noticing one of the boys he always sees in the park wearing clothes a little too small on his little frame. Who sneakily sparks a conversation and discreetly slips a note and some money into the boys pocket to not embarrass his family.

Bakugou’s first love who’s temper and passion matches, no, exceeds his, because you had to fight twice as hard to earn things he was given, had to fight twice as hard to get a seat at a table he was born to. His first love, who’s outcast by hero society for carrying too much anger, for being too rough, too much. 

For being Quirkless.

He never said it was love, but it was. He could feel it, knew you could too. Or at least, he hopes you could. 

So after you disappear, there’s not a single day that goes by where he doesn’t think of you, well into adulthood. Little things like the flowers in the florist shop window that are the exact color of your old car, the way the city glows after a rainstorm.

He thinks it would be easier to forget you, to not have to carry the weight around with him all the time, and he hates himself for thinking it at all. Hates that he feels burdened by your memory instead of thankful he could tell someone exactly where every mole and birthmark sat on your skin, the different colors in your eyes.

It’s that perfect memory that confirms his worst suspicion when history begins to repeat himself, a new group of villains unhappy with society rising from the ashes of the last.

You’re clearly different, but he knows you. Knows the way you move, the tilt to your voice when you’re hiding that you’re wounded.

It’s the first time that his heart is at war with his sense of duty, but he keeps quiet about his suspicion regardless, needing to confirm everything for himself before he spoke up.

It’s a thin line he’s walking, but he assures himself he won’t cross it, no matter what.

And yet, when he finally catches you, unmasked and pinned beneath him, bloody teeth bared, he finds himself lifting enough for you to escape. He wants desperately to give chase, to catch you again, but he knows it’s not so he can bring you in.

It’s that realization that wakes him up, makes him take extended leave so he can track you down. Except he doesn’t have to.

You show up at his apartment one night, covered in shadows near the open window as he comes in, absently listening to Kiri worry about him over the phone. It takes everything in him not to hang up on his friend immediately when he sees you, freezing in place.

He should be angry, should be insulted that you, a wanted villain, had the audacity to show up in his home and silently watch him, but he’s not.

Part of him believes he’s finally lost it, chasing ghosts, so he calls out your name quietly, more of a breath than real words, but he can see the way your body reacts to it immediately, and all he can feel is relief crash around him.

There’s a heavy silence for a while, and then he takes a step forward. You stiffen, and in a blink, you’re gone, the only sign you were real to begin with a note telling him to stay away.

But he doesn’t. And neither do you. He knows you follow him, can feel watchful eyes on him, even if he can’t see you right away.

And then you show up in his apartment once more, clearly ready for a fight in the middle of his kitchen. There’s a glint of a knife in your hand, and he’s careful to move slowly as he sets down his groceries, hands splayed to show you he’s unarmed, as if he couldn’t kill you with one flick of his wrist. He calls out your name again, softly, like he’s talking to a wounded animal, and you can’t help the way your heart begs you to respond, even after so many years.

You shift, hesitate, and he straightens, takes a chance, and takes a step towards you. Your hand twitches, but you don’t raise it, don’t charge him. So he takes another. And then another. And then he’s within striking range, and your eyes are hard, angry in warning, but wide, like you’re lost. 

So he steps closer. And you step back, knife falling from your hand and clattering to the floor. He presses forward until your back hits his kitchen island, and he’s leaning over you, knuckles white with the way they grip the marble. 

You look panicked, fear brewing in your gaze when he raises a hand, eyes squeezing shut so you don’t see the blow coming. 

Instead, he brushes your hair away from your face, and your eyes fly open in surprise, the large pro drinking you in, his eyes flicking over your form. 

“I thought you were dead,” 

His voice is softer than anything you’ve ever heard, rolling over you and bringing back memories long since repressed. He cups your cheek, thumb sliding over your skin as if to make sure you’re real, and you hate how good it feels, how much you’ve missed him, and then his gaze dips lower and he freezes. 

Now that’s he’s able to be close to you, breathe you in, he sees what he’s missed before, hidden under stealth suits and large hoodies. From beneath your top curl ragged scars, curving and licking up along your throat and across your shoulders, more abundant than unmarred skin.

Your breath hitches as his fingers leave your face to trace over the scars on your collarbone, his face filled with anguish. His searching takes him lower, to the collar of your shirt where he pulls away, shaky hands falling to the hem as he begins to lift it slowly. 

Your hands circle his wrist in warning, and he spares you a glance, his pretty eyes filled with silent pleas, and you give in to him, as powerless to him as you were when you were stupid kids believing you were in love. Your fingers fall away from his skin slowly to let him continue, heart hammering as you let the man you came to kill undress you. 

He hesitates, inhaling deeply, steeling himself for what he might see before he tugs the cotton upwards once more. 

His stomach twists in knots as you’re revealed to him, arching scars covering most of your torso, some clearly old, but far too many new, deep, and he can only imagine what you went through to earn such markings across your skin. 

He can hardly find those moles and beauty marks he used to be able to map perfectly, now replaced with thick and jagged lines. He looks tortured, struggling not to let it show, but you see it anyways.

You can’t help the noise that bubbles from your throat when you lift your arms for him, a fresh wound beneath your left breast pulling painfully tight with the movement, and he clenches his jaw at the sound of your whimper, brows drawn low over his eyes. 

When his palm lays flat against your stomach, measuring the expanse of your scars to his hand, the former reaching out far further, you squeeze your eyes shut and tilt your head back. 

You never wanted him to see you like this, and in that very moment, you wished you were dead like he’d assumed, rather than a broken shell of who he used to love. 

He’s silent as his hands wander, their warmth seeping into your skin and settling on your hips, fingers splayed wide. He lets out a shaky huff and you finally peel open your eyes as he drops to his knees, his breath warm over your skin, moments before his mouth presses over your flaws.

He doesn’t miss the way you inhale sharply, hazy eyes focused down at him kneeling at your feet, mouth ghosting across your body. 

He traces a path upwards, his hands keeping you grounded as you arch against him, goosebumps rising in the wake of his ministrations. He deviates from his path only once, to press a feather soft kiss against your newest wound, and you hiss, fingers flying to tangle in his hair. 

It shouldn’t hurt so much, but his mouth feels like a brand, his nose brushing along the underside of your breast, lighting a fire within you that you had assumed died long ago. He murmurs out something you don’t quite catch against your skin before he returns the drag of his mouth between your breasts, up until he’s pressing kisses against your jaw, his forehead bumping against your cheek as he shakes his head. 

He exhales shakily again, and you tilt your head ever so slightly, needing to see him, needing to see the disgust, the pity in his eyes. You need him to give you a reason to push him away, a reason to hate him so neither of you start something you can’t finish. 

But all you see is a quiet fury buried in those crimson eyes, smothered by a emotion you’ve only ever seen in those very eyes the last time you’d seen him. You’re not ready to admit what it is yet, denial flooding you even as your mind supplies the word. 

Love. 

It’s like all the air rushes from your lungs, and you’re sure in that very moment, if it wasn’t for his firm grip, that you’d simply crumple under the weight of your realization. 

He draws you back to him, nose bumping yours when one of his hands cups the back of your head, fingers burying themselves in your hair. He opens his mouth and immediately closes it again, breathing in sharply through his nose before he speaks again, eyes shutting. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” 

And just like that, you can’t resist his pull anymore, closing the distance as the first tear rolls down your cheek. 

What do they say?

Bakugou: how come you're on the field today,huh ?

Sara: Just checking if you two behave ;)

Kirishima : You don't say ....