Lovers Lane

Mr Aizawa made it extremely clear that there were to be no form animals nor rodents in or in the dorm. Kaminari being the first to find out after his ‘or what’ actions being hellish for a lasting two weeks training with him after school.

Late one evening, as the dorm settled into a peaceful silence, a faint rustling sound echoed from the common room. Bakugo, who had been passing through for a late-night snack, froze mid-step. His sharp eyes darted toward the couch, where something small and quick scurried beneath it.

“The hell was that?” he muttered, his brows furrowing.

Before he could investigate, Kirishima strolled in, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “What’s up, man?”

“There’s something under the couch,” Bakugo grumbled, already preparing to blast whatever it was.

Before either of them could act, a horrified gasp came from the hallway.

“Kaminari you idiot!” Iida’s voice boomed, followed by rapid stomps that echoed like a death march.

In the blink of an eye, Kaminari came skidding into the common room, hands raised defensively. “I—I can explain!”

Mina peeked from behind him, giggling. “He got a pet.”

A deadly silence fell upon the room. Even Todoroki, who had just entered with a cup of tea, raised a questioning brow.

“You what?” Bakugo seethed.

Kaminari gulped. “It’s just a little guy! He’s cute! And—”

Before he could finish, a tiny, white ferret popped its head out of his hoodie pocket, blinking innocently at the group.

“Denki,” Yaoyorozu began in a dangerous tone, “do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“More importantly,” Jirou whispered, eyes wide, “how are you still alive?”

As if on cue, a shadow loomed over the group. The air grew thick with an overwhelming sense of impending doom.

“A pet?” came the dangerously calm voice of Aizawa from the entrance. His sharp, sleep-deprived eyes zeroed in on Kaminari and the tiny creature in his pocket.

Kaminari chuckled nervously. “Mr Aizawa! Haha! Fancy seeing you here—”

“Extra training. One month.”

“No!” 

And ever since the poor boy minus the dark long locks of hair gracing his shoulder, looked to be the very splitting image of Mr Aizawa. 

The once lively and electric Kaminari Denki had officially been reduced to a ghost of his former self. Dark circles permanently etched themselves under his eyes, his posture slumped, and his usual carefree grin had been replaced by a vacant, distant stare. He now carried an aura of quiet suffering—one that mirrored their homeroom teacher a little too well.

No one could ignore it.

"Kaminari, buddy… you good?" Kirishima cautiously asked one morning as they gathered for breakfast.

Kaminari, wrapped in a yellow sleeping bag that he most definitely didn’t own before, groaned and flopped onto the dining table. "I'm so tired…"

"You did this to yourself," Jirou muttered, sipping her coffee.

“Did you even sleep last night?” Mina asked, poking his cheek.

“I tried,” he mumbled. “But Aizawa-sensei decided that ‘stealth training’ at 3 a.m. builds character.”

Bakugo scoffed. “You mean he threw you in the woods and told you to ‘find your way back’?”

Kaminari’s face darkened as he stared blankly ahead. “There were wolves…”

The room fell into silence.

“Dude,” Sero whispered, half-impressed, half-horrified.

Before anyone could say more, the sound of soft, rapid paw steps echoed through the hall. The little white ferret—the true root of Kaminari’s suffering—scampered into the room, leaping effortlessly onto the table.

Kaminari lifted his head slightly. "At least Noriko still loves me."

The ferret, now revealed to be named Noriko, rubbed against his hand before snatching a piece of his toast and darting away.

Kaminari sighed. "Never mind."

At that moment, the doors to the dorm opened, and Aizawa himself entered, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee. His gaze landed on Kaminari, who immediately sat up straight, nearly knocking over his chair.

"Training. After school. Don't be late," Aizawa said flatly before walking past them like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Kaminari slumped back down with a dramatic groan. "I am Aizawa now…"

"To be fair," Todoroki finally spoke up, looking at Kaminari’s exhausted form, "you do have the same vibe now."

The cool night air wraps around you like a soft blanket as you step onto the rooftop of the dorm. The stars above twinkle faintly, but your mind is far from the serenity of the night sky. The constant pressure of Aizawa’s grueling training has you on edge, and you needed a break—anything to break the monotony. The rooftop has always been your sanctuary, a quiet spot where you could let your mind wander.

But tonight, your solitude is interrupted.

A faint rustling reaches your ears, distant and subtle—almost imperceptible, but enough to catch your attention. You squint toward the far edge of the roof. The figure is low to the ground, moving with purpose but not making a sound.

What the hell is he doing?

You blink and instantly recognize the figure. Bakugo.

For a split second, you stop in your tracks, unsure of what to make of the scene. Bakugo—the guy who never hesitates to charge in full force—is crouched on the ground, his back turned to you, acting far more like a thief than the explosive hero he is.

You furrow your brow, curiosity gnawing at you. What could Bakugo be up to at this hour?

Before you can even begin to wrap your head around it, you call out, your voice cutting through the quiet night like a sudden spark. "What the hell are you doing?"

Bakugo freezes, stiffening at the sound of your voice. His body tenses, his usual aggression replaced by a flicker of surprise before he slowly turns to face you, his eyes blazing.

"Tch. None of your damn business," he mutters, his sharp gaze narrowing.

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Oh, it definitely is now." You cross your arms, leaning casually against the rooftop railing as you observe him closely. "What, are you planting bombs? Sneaking around like some kind of spy? Or are you trying to sabotage my ferret?"

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and you almost feel like you’ve pushed him too far. But Bakugo merely scowls harder, eyes darkening as he shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to back down.

Without saying a word, he moves slightly to the side, revealing a small, white plate on the ground. Your eyes snap to it in confusion. Why is there food on the roof?

Before you can process it, a familiar blur races past you—small, white, and incredibly quick. You stiffen, your heart lurching in recognition.

No. Freaking. Way.

Noriko, Kaminari's ferret, dashes toward the plate and starts eating.

You blink, completely thrown off. Wait. No. Not Noriko.

Your stomach sinks, and for a moment, you don’t know whether to laugh or yell. Bakugo… with a animal?

For a few long seconds, Bakugo says nothing, watching as the little creature devours the food he laid out. He doesn’t push Noriko away, doesn’t seem bothered by her presence. The whole situation makes no sense, yet somehow, it feels oddly familiar.

You take a step closer, voice tinged with disbelief. "You’re feeding her?"

Bakugo’s eyes flash briefly, but there's no malice in his gaze—just frustration. "Sparks, probably had her long enough for her to find her way back here," he mutters, though there’s no venom in his words. If anything, it sounds like he’s trying to justify himself.

You narrow your eyes, a teasing grin forming. "So, what’s the deal, huh? The mighty Bakugo, soft for a tiny rodent? I never thought I'd see the day."

Bakugo’s jaw tightens, his fists clenched, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed him too far. But then, his posture relaxes just enough for you to notice—he’s too tired to fight it.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, the words lacking their usual fire, as if he's given up trying to keep up the facade. You can’t resist.

“I never thought you had it in you. You're actually bonding with her, huh?" You lean against the railing, savoring every second of this moment. "Look at you, Bakugo. You're a pet dad."

You can practically feel the steam rising off of him, his face growing red as he shoots you a deadly glare. "Don't make me explode you."

You chuckle. "I'm not making fun of you. But hey, it’s kind of cute," You glance at Noriko, who’s now curled up peacefully in his lap, totally at ease in a way that makes your heart swell with a strange sense of satisfaction.

Bakugo glances down at her, then back at you. He’s not quite sure how to react—annoyed, but also a little resigned, as if he’s lost the battle to hide the truth.

"She just followed me around like a damn shadow," he grumbles, sounding almost embarrassed. "I just fed her to get her off my back. Don’t make a big deal out of it."

You grin wider. "Sure, Bakugo. That’s what they all say. You’re the softest guy I know."

Bakugo twitches, his eye narrowing, fists tightening again. “Say one more word and I’ll—”

Before he can finish, Noriko rolls over in his lap, snuggling deeper into his arms. She’s practically purring in contentment, and it’s enough to stop Bakugo mid-sentence. For the briefest moment, you see something in his eyes—a mix of exasperation and something softer.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “She really likes you.”

Bakugo’s face flushes even more, but he doesn’t argue. He looks down at the tiny creature, her soft fur brushing against his hand, and for the first time in a long while, his expression softens. “She’s just… annoying,” he mutters, but it’s clear he doesn’t really mean it.

You lean closer, still grinning. "She has somewhat good taste."

Bakugo’s face is beet red, voice drops to a growl, and you can feel the familiar edge of embarassment bubbling under the surface. "I swear to god, I’ll—"

You laugh, thoroughly enjoying this rare, almost vulnerable moment. “Look at you, Bakugo. You’re definitely a pet parent now. This is gold.” You pull out your phone, snapping a quick picture before he can react. "I could sell this to the tabloids."

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, but it’s not nearly as threatening as usual. In fact, there’s an almost resigned acceptance in his voice. He sighs heavily, looking down at Noriko, who’s now completely at ease in his lap.

For a long while, the two of you just stand there. Bakugo, reluctantly cradling the ferret, and you, savoring the victory of having discovered a side of him no one else ever would.

Finally, Bakugo huffs. "Alright, alright. haha, Get the hell out of here."

You push yourself off the railing, still grinning. "Fine, fine. But don’t think for a second I’m gonna let you live this down."

He shoots you a glare, but it’s half-hearted, the fire in his eyes already dimming. “Whatever. Just go.”

You turn to walk away, but then pause, throwing one last comment over your shoulder. “Oh, and Bakugo? dont worry i'll send them.”

The gym buzzed with the usual energy of practice, the sound of fists connecting with pads echoing throughout the room. Shin, with his athletic build and focused intensity, moved fluidly across the mat, demonstrating perfect form with every kick and punch. As a taekwondo senior, he was the one everyone looked to for guidance. His technique was sharp, and his presence commanded respect. But even with all that, there was something about you that had been on his mind lately.

You, a final-year med student, had recently started attending some of the gym’s training sessions to keep in shape, though you were nowhere near the level of the seasoned athletes around you. You were still learning, fumbling through some of the moves, and trying to follow along with the intensity of it all.

Shin had always admired your determination, the way you seemed so focused, even in the middle of the chaos. But today, for some reason, there was something different about watching you. His gaze lingered a little longer, even as his friends talked, pointing out something about the upcoming match.

He was supposed to be listening, but he couldn’t quite pull his attention away from you. He felt a flutter in his chest—a mix of admiration, nerves, and something else he couldn’t quite define. He tried to shake it off, focusing on the conversation, but his eyes kept wandering back to you.

"Yo, Shin, you zoning out again?" Heiskue teased, nudging him with an elbow.

Shin blinked, suddenly snapping out of his daze. He cleared his throat, trying to act like nothing was wrong. "Huh? No. Just... thinking," he mumbled, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Nah you look preoccupied with beauty” he whispered

“What are you even on about, just give me a damn hair tie” 

Shin’s face flushed at the comment, though he did his best to hide it. He reached into his bag for a hair tie, hands moving faster than usual as Heiskue grinned knowingly.

“You really need to pay attention, man. Focus,” Heiskue added, clearly enjoying the moment.

Shin rolled his eyes, trying to act unaffected, but his mind couldn’t shake the image of you. Even when he tried to refocus on the practice, his thoughts kept drifting back to how beautiful you looked, your brow furrowed in concentration as you attempted yet another move. He’d been watching you more than he cared to admit lately, always from a distance, always too shy to approach.

But today… Today was different. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but there was something about the way you were pushing yourself, your unwavering dedication, that made his heart race. Was it the way your hair swung with each movement? Or was it just the fact that you seemed so comfortable in your own skin, even when things were tough?

“Alright, alright,” Shin muttered, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “I’m focused. Let’s go.”

The crisp autumn air sets the stage for another day, whispering through the campus as students hurried between classes, their footsteps echoing on the pavement. Shin, walking with a group of his friends, glanced toward the courtyard, where you sat on a bench, buried in a textbook. He couldn’t help but notice how absorbed you were, your brow furrowed as you studied.

Shin found himself slowing his pace, his eyes following your every movement from across the courtyard. You were completely immersed in your work, oblivious to the world around you, and something about that focused energy drew him in. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he watched you, though he quickly shook his head, trying to refocus. He had class to get to, friends to meet, but his feet didn’t seem to want to move.

“Yo, Shin, what’s up?” Heiskue’s voice pulled him out of his trance. “You coming or what?”

Shin blinked, a little flustered, and gave a quick nod. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming,” he muttered, though his feet stayed rooted in place for a moment longer.

Heiskue raised an eyebrow, following Shin’s gaze, and then smirked. “Ah, I see. You’re getting all lost in her world again.”

Shin shot him a glare, his face flushing. “Shut up, man. It’s not like that.”

But Heiskue’s grin only grew wider. “Sure, sure. Just don’t take too long, alright? You’ve got practice later.”

Shin nodded, but as his friends moved ahead, he stayed where he was, trying to gather his thoughts. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and that was probably for the best. It wasn’t like he could just walk over and strike up a conversation. There was something about the way you studied, so absorbed in your books, that made him nervous. What if he interrupted? What if he sounded dumb?

He had always admired you from afar—your quiet determination, the way you carried yourself even when you were tired, the fact that you never gave up, even if you were struggling. Shin had never been good at talking to people, especially not people like you. You were always so composed, so driven. He didn’t want to mess that up.

But as the wind picked up and made your hair flutter slightly, he felt a strange pull. He shook his head again, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind, and finally, with a deep breath, he started walking toward the courtyard.

The moment you looked up and noticed him, his heart skipped a beat.

“Hey,” he said, voice a little rougher than usual. “You, uh... you need a break from all that studying?”

You blinked in recognition, your eyes widening slightly. "Shin?" you said, a smile tugging at your lips. "I didn’t expect to run into you here. What’s up?"

Shin froze for a split second, taken aback by the fact that you knew his name. He had barely said two words to you outside of the gym, and yet, here you were, recognizing him so easily. His heart skipped a beat. "You know me?" he asked, a little more surprised than he intended.

You laughed softly, the sound warm and easy. “Of course, I do. You’re always leading the practice sessions at the gym. I’ve seen you around.” You shifted slightly, eyes scanning the books in your lap. “I’m actually surprised you noticed me.”

Shin’s chest tightened, feeling a little awkward now. “Yeah, I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling heat rush to his face. “I’ve, uh, seen you there too. You’re, um, pretty focused.”

You smiled again, a little more warmly this time. “Thanks. I try.”

There was a brief silence before Shin cleared his throat, trying to shake off the surprise. “Well, I was thinking... maybe you want to grab some coffee sometime? Take a break from all that?”

Your expression softened, and after a moment’s pause, you laughed looming around at the papers, the scent of cherries wafting his nose making him slightly warm. “Sure, I’d like that. I could definitely use a break from all this studying.” 

As you both stood outside the coffee shop, the crisp autumn air settling between you, Shin glanced at his phone. His brows furrowed slightly, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“I, uh… I actually don’t have time to stay today,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Got practice, and then some other stuff to take care of.”

You nodded in understanding. “No worries. I figured you’d be busy.”

Shin hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn’t the type to stall or second-guess himself, but something about this—about you—made him overthink. Finally, he just pulled out his phone, unlocking it before holding it out to you.

“But,” he said, his voice a little softer, “can I get your number?”

You raised a brow, surprised but amused by his sudden straightforwardness. “So you don’t have time now, but you’re planning ahead?”

Shin exhaled a quiet chuckle, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. “Yeah. Something like that.”

You took his phone, quickly typing in your number before handing it back. “There. Now you don’t have an excuse to forget.”

Shin glanced down at the screen, your name saved in his contacts, and for a moment, the usual serious expression on his face softened. He gave a small nod, pocketing his phone.

“Good,” he said simply. “I’ll text you.”

And with that, he turned to leave, giving you one last glance before heading off. Even as he walked away, he could still feel the lingering warmth of this moment, a small, unfamiliar smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

That night, Shin lay on his bed, staring at his phone. His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, debating whether or not to text you right away. He had never been the type to overthink things—especially not something as simple as a message—but this felt different.

He exhaled, shaking his head at himself before finally typing:

Shin: Hey. It’s me.

A second passed. Then another. His pulse ticked up slightly as the tiny "delivered" mark appeared.

Then, to his surprise, your reply came almost instantly.

You: Shin? The guy who’s always staring but never talking?

His eyes widened slightly. His ears burned. He sat up, staring at the screen in disbelief. Did you really just call him out like that?

Shin: I don’t stare.

You: Mhm. Sure you don’t.

Shin huffed, running a hand through his hair. He could practically hear the amusement in your words. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he finally just went with it.

Shin: You should focus on studying instead of making things up.

You: And you should focus on training instead of staring at me.

Shin blinked. He wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or impressed. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, but instead of panicking, he found himself smirking a little.

Shin: Alright, you got me. Maybe I do.

The three dots appeared, disappearing, then reappearing again. When your response finally came through, it made his stomach flip in a way he wasn’t expecting.

You: Good. I don’t mind it.

Shin stared at the message for a long moment, then let out a slow breath. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something stir in his chest—something unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

you: Then I’ll see you at the gym tomorrow.

That night, Shin couldn’t sleep. He lay there, phone resting on his chest, heart still beating a little too fast.

Good. I don’t mind it.

He read your message over and over again, each time feeling his stomach twist in a way that was both unsettling and... kind of nice. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but for once, he didn’t feel like overanalyzing it.

If there was one thing any third party could take away from your relationship with Katsuki, it would be that he cares for you deeply. With sandy blonde hair paired with angry red eyes with an seemingly always molding his face in a permanent frown, intimidating all those who dared to hold a conversation with him.

Well you did, and unexpectedly, it branched off and bloomed into something entirely. Though he acted like a troubled soul, and a semi-aggressive nature, caring was definitely a part of his vocabulary.

You remember how his flushed face propped in front of you. Remembering how he probably ran non-stop on the way to the hospital.His breath was ragged, chest rising and falling like he had just run a marathon. Maybe he had. His palms rested on his knees as he leaned forward, gathering himself, but his fiery eyes never left you. There was something raw in them—something unspoken yet impossibly loud.

“You—” he started, voice strained, before he stopped himself, clenching his jaw. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he trembled slightly, taking a seat by your bed's side with his head in his hands “Damn it… You scared the hell out of me.”

You blinked, taking in the rare sight before you. Katsuki Bakugo, the same guy who always seemed to have an unwavering, iron-willed control over himself, was unraveling at the edges. And it was because of you.

A dry chuckle escaped your lips, but even that small effort made you wince. He noticed. Of course he did. In an instant, he was at your bedside, arms crossed but his expression betraying him.

“Tch. Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, averting his gaze as his fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure how. “You’re lying in a hospital bed, dumbass.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of exhaustion pull at your limbs. “Yeah, well… I’m here, aren’t I?”

His glare sharpened, but there was no real anger behind it. Only frustration. Worry.

Your heart clenched. The room smelled like antiseptic, and the beeping of the machines around you filled the silence between you both. But at that moment, none of it mattered. Because you saw him for what he truly was—not just the explosive, battle-hardened Bakugou that the world saw, but the boy who had run himself breathless just to make sure you were okay.

The next day, he showed up again.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you stirred awake, but the first thing you registered was the soft rustling of a plastic bag and the faint, savory aroma filling the room. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim hospital light, and there he was—Katsuki Bakugo, sitting stiffly in the chair beside your bed, unpacking a container of food like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked in surprise. “Did you… bring me food?”

His eyes snapped open at your voice, and his scowl returned almost immediately. “Tch. Obviously,” he muttered, standing up and grabbing the container. “Hospital food’s shit. No way in hell I’m lettin’ you eat that crap.”

Before you could even respond, he popped the lid open, the scent of freshly made miso soup and perfectly cooked rice filling the air. It smelled comforting—familiar in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You… made this?” you asked, watching as he grabbed a spoon and practically shoved it into your hand.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “You cooked this?”

His jaw tensed, a faint hint of pink dusting his ears. “Obviously.”

Warmth spread through your chest as you accepted the chopsticks he handed you, your fingers brushing against his for just a second. He didn’t pull away.

You scooped a small bite of rice into your mouth, and warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the food. It was good. Of course it was. He wouldn’t accept anything less than perfection, even when cooking for you.

The first bite melted in your mouth, and your eyes widened slightly. “Katsuki, this is—”

“Shut up and eat,” he interrupted, shifting in his seat like he couldn’t handle the compliment. But you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched, just a little.

After you finished the food you basically collapsed against the pillow. He smoothly covered the glass containers, like you deserve a pat on the back for eating all of that good food. You watched him quietly, his arm flexing as his face rested.

He meets your gaze with a god of calmness, his angry crimson eyes somehow as soft as a fluffy white rabbit. “What is it?” He placed the containers in the lunch bag.

You yawned, feeling the heaviness of sleep start to creep in again, but you still didn’t look away from him. “Nothing,” you murmured, voice lazy with exhaustion. “Just thinking.”

He narrowed his eyes. “About what?”

You hesitated for a second before letting the words slip out. “You really do care.”

Katsuki froze. It was barely noticeable—just a flicker, a twitch of his fingers against the lunch bag’s handle. But you caught it.

His scowl deepened, but the softness in his gaze didn’t disappear. “Tch. ‘Course I do,” he muttered, his voice almost too low to hear.

The air between you both settled into something unspoken yet deeply understood. He wasn’t the type to say things outright—he never had been. But the way he kept showing up, the way he cooked for you, the way he lingered even after you finished eating… it said more than words ever could.

You gave him a small, tired smile, your eyelids growing heavier. “You’re staying, right?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, looking away, but you saw the way his fingers gripped the lunch bag tighter. “Yeah, dumbass,” he mumbled, dragging the chair closer to your bed. “Go to sleep.”

You watched as he settled back into his chair, arms crossed, watching you like a guard dog. A small, mischievous thought popped into your head, and you bit back a smile.

“Wait,” you said suddenly, squinting at his face.

Katsuki tensed. “What?”

You tilted your head, pretending to inspect him closely. “You’ve got something… right here.” You motioned vaguely toward his cheek.

His frown deepened as he wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “The hell? Where?”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No, no, not there. Let me.”

He hesitated but leaned in slightly, eyes locked onto yours as if trying to gauge whether or not this was some kind of trick. You lifted your hands slowly, cupping his face with a gentleness that made his breath hitch for just a second. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and for once, he didn’t pull away.

Instead of wiping away some imaginary speck of food, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead.

“Thanks for the food, Katsuki,” you murmured against his skin before pulling back.

His crimson eyes flickered with something unreadable as he stared at you, face completely still. You half-expected him to explode, to jerk away and call you a dumbass, but instead, he exhaled a quiet breath and let his eyelids lower just slightly.

“…You’re welcome,” he said, voice calm and low.

You grinned, brushing your thumbs gently over his cheeks before finally letting go. He sat back, rubbing his nose and looking away, grumbling something under his breath. But even as he huffed in annoyance, you caught it—the tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

And your heart melted just a little more.

The next day, he showed up again.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Without fail, Katsuki would walk in, always carrying a homemade meal in his hand, grumbling about how “hospital food is garbage” and how he wasn’t going to let you “get weak over some bland crap.” But despite his usual tough demeanor, you could tell—he cared. He cared a lot.

And every day, after you finished eating, you’d call him over.

“Wait,” you’d say, squinting at his face with a small smirk. “You’ve got something right… there.”

At first, he fell for it every time, wiping at his cheek with a scowl. “The hell? Where?”

Then, he caught on.

The next time, he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”

You only grinned, patting the space in front of you. “C’mere.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he leaned in, letting you cup his face between your hands like it was the most normal thing in the world. His skin was always warm, and even though he grumbled, he never pulled away.

And just like always, you kissed his forehead softly, letting your lips linger for a second before pulling back.

“Thanks for the food, Katsuki,” you murmured.

His reaction was always the same. He’d blink once, his ears turning pink, then exhale quietly.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he’d mutter, voice softer than he probably intended.

And then he’d sit back, rubbing his nose or running a hand through his hair, trying to act like it didn’t affect him at all. But you could see it—the way his lips twitched like he was holding back a smile, the way his gaze lingered on you just a little longer before he busied himself with putting away the empty containers.

Katsuki didn’t need to say he cared. He showed it. In the food, in the way he sat by your bed for hours without complaint, in the way he leaned in without hesitation every time you asked.

Bakugo never wanted to be here. The bass is too loud, the air is thick with sweat and alcohol, and the entire place reeks of bad decisions. But you—you—had convinced him to come.

“Just for a little while,” you had pleaded, tugging at his sleeve with that damn smile of yours.

“Please?” He had rolled his eyes, muttered whatever, and somehow ended up here—leaning against the wall not too far away, arms crossed, watching you with a scowl as you laughed way too much at something your friend just said.

It was fine at first. You stuck to a couple of drinks, stayed close to your friends, nothing he needed to interfere with. But now? Now you’re swaying slightly, eyes glassy, your grin too loose. Your friends aren’t any better—one of them is barely holding themselves up, the other is too busy flirting to care what’s happening around them.

And then, of course, some asshole decides to make things worse.Bakugo notices him immediately. A guy—tall, shady asshole, dressed like he thinks he’s hot shit—zeroing in on you like you’re easy prey. He watches as the guy sidles up next to you, leans in too close, and whispers something in your ear.

You blink at him, swaying slightly. “Huh?”The guy chuckles, placing a hand on your lower back. “How about we get out of here, yeah?”Bakugo doesn’t think. He moves.In an instant, he’s at your side, stepping between you and shoving the guy a great distance from you.

“Back up!” The guy blinks, taking a step back. “Whoa, chill, man. Just making sure they’re okay.”he holds his hands up “she’s fine.” His voice is cold, sharp. “And she’s leaving dip shit.”

The guy hesitates, looking between you and Bakugo like he’s deciding whether it’s worth the trouble. But one look at Bakugo’s clenched fists and deadly glare, and he backs off with a scoff, muttering something about people being too uptight.

Bakugo ignores him, turning back to you. “We’re goin’.”You pout. “But—”“No buts.” He grabs your wrist, steady but firm. “You’re done.”You mumble something incoherent but don’t resist as he leads you through the crowd. Your friends barely notice you leaving, too caught up in their own mess.Idiots.

The night air is sharp against his skin as he helps you into his car. You fumble with the seatbelt, and with an irritated sigh, he leans over, buckling it for you.“You’re bossy,” you mumble, blinking up at him.

“And you’re a damn lightweight,” he shoots back, shutting the door before walking around to the driver’s side.The drive is quiet. You’re half-asleep against the window, lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He glances at you, then sighs, grabbing a bottle of water from the cupholder.

“Drink.”You blink at it, sluggish. “Why?”“So you don’t feel like complete shit tomorrow.”

A slow, sleepy smile spreads across your lips. “You do care.”His hands tighten around the wheel. “Tch. Shut up.”Still, you take a few sips, mumbling a quiet thank you before closing your eyes again.By the time he pulls up to your place, you’re barely awake. He gets out, opens your door, and sighs when you don’t move.

“Oi.” He nudges your arm. Nothing.With a grunt, he unbuckles your seatbelt and scoops you into his arms, carrying you inside like it’s second nature.

Your breath is warm against his neck as he unlocks your door.“…Bakugo?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He exhales through his nose. “What?”

“…You’re really warm.”His face heats up, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.