Bakugo is home safe after his kidnapping, but everything still feels so different. You’ve spent days stuck in your own head, restless with guilt and fear and everything in between. You just needed to see him, and he doesn't know how much he needs to see you.
warnings: fem reader, fluff, comfort, kinda angsty, crying, a bit suggestive there at the end-
Katsuki Bakugo had been gone for a whole day.
One whole day since the League of Villains had taken him. Meaning, it had also been one whole day since Class 1-A had been split between those who watched on helplessly and those who couldn't. And as much as you wanted to, burned to, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn't justify breaking the law.
You and Iida were both co-class presidents. You had both agreed that you couldn't do anything. You weren't pro heroes, you didn't have that kind of skill yet. It just wouldn't be safe. You expressed all these things to your fellow classmates, as more and more of them flirted with the idea of rescuing Bakugo yourselves. You and Iida became firmer with the class. No one was going anywhere. You needed to have faith in the pros and police in a matter like this. A situation this dire was no place for kids.
But behind closed doors, you were spiraling.
You had felt sick ever since the night he was taken, and now the thought of your other classmates risking their own safety, their own lives for him, only made you feel worse.
You didn't sleep at all that night. Of course, you wanted to save him. You wanted to burst through the front door of the League of Villains' lair and rip them all limb from limb for putting you and your class through this. For putting him through this.
Iida consoled you through all of it. Acting as your rock and constantly mirroring the reassurance he showed the rest of the class to you. You trusted Iida. Of course, you trusted Iida. He was your partner, but his words didn't change how you felt. And his words wouldn't bring Bakugo home.
The first night back in the dorms after Bakugo had been taken felt like hell. The entire class was in turmoil, either worried sick over their classmates' whereabouts or continuing to fight you and Iida tooth and nail over finding him themselves. Iida, Midoriya, and Kirishima were just about ready to come to blows, demanding that you both let them go after him.
You were so overstimulated by everything that had taken place over the last 24 hours that everything finally caught up to you all at once. You completely broke down in the dorms' common room, much to the class's surprise. After consoling you for a minute, Iida snapped, finally reaching his own limit, sending the entire class to bed and demanding he not hear another word of any of this for the rest of the night.
He took you back to your own room, reassuring you that all of this would be over soon. You just had to continue to have faith in the pros.
You wanted to believe him, but the sinking feeling in your stomach wouldn't let you.
He stayed in your room with you for a while, not wanting to leave your side, considering the state you were in. After some time, you told him that you were just exhausted emotionally from all of this, and you probably just needed to try and sleep the stress away.
He agreed, giving you a few more words of reassurance before pulling you into a warm embrace, leaving your room and closing the door behind him.
You tried to sleep. Tossing and turning while your mind raced, mulling over all the terrible things Bakugo must be feeling right now, while you just try and ‘sleep it off’. The survivor's guilt became too much to bear. You felt sicker than you had in the last two days.
You sat up in your bed, reaching for your phone from your nightstand. You opened it and called Iida, preparing to beg him to come back to your room and keep you company just as he had done the night before when you were too sick to sleep. Your call went straight to voicemail. You called again only to get the same automated message again and again.
This wasn't like Iida at all. He never answered the phone later than the second ring.
You got out of bed, heading to his room, assuming he wasn't answering because he had just fallen asleep. You knocked on his door, to no answer. You knocked again with a bit more force before you called him again from the other side of the door.
As your phone’s speaker rang, you pressed your ear to Iida’s bedroom door, not hearing his phone ringing inside, not even a buzz from vibration mode. Again, you got his voicemail message. You turned the door knob, swiftly swinging the door open.
His bedroom was empty. His bed still made from whenever he was there last.
Your eyes began to sting with tears as your feelings of sickness worsened.
You ran to Midoriya's bedroom next, banging on his door to no answer. You opened his door as well, empty. You checked Kirishima's next empty. Todoroki was gone too, along with Yaomomo.
You paced the first floor of your dorm on the brink of panic. The thought of anything happening to Bakugo had you sick with fear. You couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, you couldn't even think. But now that the others had left, their fates were just as uncertain to you as Bakugo's.
All you could do was sit on the living room couch, sobbing helplessly as you prayed for everyone's safe return.
You woke up to the sound of the front door shutting and locking, realizing at some point during your meltdown, you must have passed out on the couch from exhaustion.
You sprang up just in time to catch your missing classmates attempting to silently sneak back to their empty rooms. They all stared at you like deer caught in headlights as a feeling of relief washed over you once you could see that they were home and safe.
That relief only lasted a second before it was replaced by pure red-hot rage.
You didn't hold back, grilling them, asking them if they had any idea how worried you were, what could have happened to them, and how you would have never forgiven yourself if something had gone wrong.
They apologized, obviously shaken up from the night they had just experienced, but then, they told you Bakugo was now back at his own home, safe and sound.
As happy as you were to hear this, you couldn't even enjoy the moment, your head still in a rage-induced frenzy, so to keep yourself from doing or saying something you might regret, you cut the lecture short and sent them to bed.
As Midoriya, Kirishima, Todoroki, and Yaomomo all headed upstairs, Iida stayed back, wanting to speak to you. And you definitely wanted to speak to him.
You tore into him worse than you had ever torn into someone in all of your life. You cursed, you cried, you shouted, and he just stood there and took all of it. He deserved all of it; he knew he did.
Once you were done, tiring yourself out in your fit of passion, you just turned and headed back to your own room, too exhausted and hurt to even look at him.
The next morning, the dorm was practically silent. The class could breathe again, knowing that Bakugo and the others were safe. But the tension in the space was as high as ever after the rest of the class found out what some of their classmates had done the night before, and how you had laid into them loud enough for the whole city to hear.
Kirishima and Midoriya couldn't even look at you. Todoroki wouldn't speak. Yaomomo hadn't left her room since they'd gotten back.
And as much as Iida wanted to reach out to you and tell you every little thing on his mind and beg you for forgiveness, he knew right now you needed space.
So that's what he gave you.
They all felt ashamed now, knowing how much hurt they had caused you with their recklessness, awkwardly wandering around the dorms like ghosts.
As mad as you were at them, you tried to think happier thoughts. Thoughts like Bakugo being home safe.
The restlessness you had felt when he was gone was now replaced with a different kind, a restlessness to see him again.
All day, you tried to take your mind off the thought of him. Sure, he was safe, but he was most likely traumatized by the whole experience. The last thing he needed right now was you in his face, reminding him of everything that he had gone through in the last 48 hours.
Instead, you paced your room looking for things to do or clean. You remade your bed. Twice. Organized your bookshelf and sorted your laundry. Now, all you had was a much cleaner room to stress out in. You stared at your phone, wondering if you should text him or maybe try calling him.
What would you even say after all this?
“Glad you’re okay?”
“Sorry, I didn’t come?”
Everything you thought of sounded wrong or too simple, given the gravity of everything.
You headed downstairs, deciding to cook something in a last-ditch effort to keep your hands busy enough not to send him an emotionally empty text, and hopefully ease your mind a bit.
As you began to work through a recipe on your phone, your mind continued to drift to thoughts of him. How he hated store-bought comfort foods. Preferring things hot and made just right, he was so particular about things.
Ditching the recipe on your phone, you instead started making his favorite: mapo tofu.
The smell of its rich and flavorful aroma filled the kitchen.
You made yourself a bowl and packed the rest neatly into a Tupperware container and placed it on the counter.
You looked down into your bowl, trying to bring yourself to eat for the first time in days. You stared at that tofu for what felt like hours.
You stood up from the table, knowing you couldn't do it.
You grabbed your phone and rushed up the stairs to your room, grabbing your wallet and a tote bag.
You left your room, rushing back down the stairs, passing Iida in the stairwell on your way down as if he didn't even exist to you.
Hurrying back to the kitchen to grab the food you had left out before rushing out the door, slamming it behind you.
The walk to his house from the station wasn’t long, but walking up his gravel driveway made you feel like you were trespassing.
You had gotten his address from some class files, a perk of your position as class president, he’d never actually told you himself, making showing up like this feel like cheating.
You took a deep breath as you stood on his front porch, a medium-sized gift bag in your hands. You had stopped by a convenience store on the way and made a sort of care package for him. A can of unsweetened iced tea, the same brand of chips you usually saw him eating around the dorm, a sleeve of cookies, and of course, his mapo tofu.
You let out a shaky breath before reaching a finger out and ringing the doorbell.
Your heart began to race as you waited there for someone to answer.
You couldn't believe you were doing this. What if he didn't want to see you?
You would probably turn away a visitor if you were in his position. Maybe it would be best for him to just be alone with family at a time like this.
Just as you were about to leave the gift on the doorstep and leave, the door opened.
A woman stared back at you, practically a carbon copy of your classmate. The resemblance was undeniable, bordering on uncanny.
You blinked at her a few times in utter shock before slapping on a hospitable and friendly smile.
“Good afternoon!” you said, trying to hide your nervousness. “You must be Mrs. Bakugo, my name is (Y/N), I’m one of your son's classmates. I was wondering if I could drop this gift off for him? If not, that's fine. I could just leave it here for him, or wait until he comes back to school. I wouldn't want to impose-”
His mother quickly stopped you, a smile spreading across her face. “Nonsense! I’m sure he would love to see one of his friends! Here, come in!” she said, opening the door to you and gesturing you in.
“KATSUKI! GET DOWN HERE, YOU HAVE A VISITOR!” she shouted up the steps, making you jump at her volume.
“He’ll be right down!” she said back to you sweetly. No DNA test needed here.
“HAH?!” you heard him shout back from somewhere upstairs before a door swung open and heavy footsteps headed to the top of the stairs.
You swallowed, a sudden wave of anxiety washing over you at the thought of seeing him again.
Before your brain even had the chance to begin spiraling again, he appeared at the top of the stairs. Both of you paused in shock at the sight of the other.
There he was, all without so much as a scratch on him. Katsuki Bakugo.
You took in the sight of him. He looked like his usual self. He wore a slouchy grey band tee shirt and flannel pajama pants. His eyes narrowed a bit at you in confusion while you stared up at him.
“The fuck are you doing here?” he asked, his tone soft despite his words.
“BE NICE!” his mother barked out. “THIS ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART CAME ALL THIS WAY TO BRING YOUR LOUSY ASS A GIFT AND THAT’S THE FIRST THING YOU SAY? TRY A ‘HELLO’ NEXT TIME YOU LITTLE TWERP!”
You turned away from both of them, not wanting Bakugo to see you struggle to keep down a laugh as the origin of his antics became more and more clear to you.
“OH SHUT UP! I’M HERE NOW SO WHY DON'T YOU SCRAM BEFORE YOUR UGLY FACE SCARES HER OFF?!” he shouted back at her.
Both of them glared at each other before his mother let out a huff, turning back to you, smiling again like this was the most normal conversation in the world.
“I’ll leave you both alone so that you can talk. Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked kindly.
Before you had time to gently decline her offer, Bakugo let out a long, exaggerated sigh, turning to head back up the stairs.
“Would you just come on already? I’m sick of hearing her mouth…”
You quickly declined his mother's offer but thanked her anyway, making Bakugo stop at the top of the stairs, shouting out one last, “Hurry up!” before you headed up the steps behind him.
He silently led you to his bedroom, standing by the door waiting for you to come inside.
You stepped into the space, taking in the view. Katsuki Bakugo's childhood bedroom. It was so normal. His walls littered with posters and awards, his desk and shelves were adorned with books and collectible figures, and a lightly messied bed that he had obviously just gotten out of.
He shut the door behind you, muttering something about his ‘lousy hag’ of a mother before moving back to his bed, straightening his comforter out a bit, and sitting down on top of it.
You continued to look around his room as you wandered deeper inside. Eyes falling over every part, taking a mental image before finally falling on him.
He was really here, in front of you, after all that time.
He looked into your eyes as you stood over him, staring again.
“Are you gonna sit down or what?” he asked, fiery eyes boring into yours.
You let out a quick apology as you sat down next to him, placing the gift in your lap.
You both sat awkwardly in an uncomfortable silence before he spoke again. “So what's in the bag?”
You looked over at him, then to the gift in your lap you had almost completely forgotten about. Shifting your body toward his, you presented the bag to him.
“I was cooking earlier, and I ended up making mapo, so I thought I’d bring you some,” you explained quietly, scared that if you spoke any louder, he’d hear the trembling in your voice.
“So you wrapped it up in a gift bag and brought it to my house like some kind of stalker?” he teased, gently taking the bag from you.
“Well, no, I was just planning on bringing it over as is, but I passed a convenience store on the way and thought you might like some other stuff too,” you explained, watching him check the contents of the bag.
You had gotten him all of his favorites, even making sure to get the unsweetened version of the tea he liked. You knew him better than he thought.
“I was going to just ring the bell and leave the gift, but your mom opened the door, and I didn't want to be rude.”
He couldn’t deny the tinge of hurt he felt that you planned on just dropping off the gift without saying a word to him.
He looked over at you before reaching into the bag and pulling out the container of tofu. It was still a bit warm.
“Thanks,” he said dryly before returning the food to the bag and placing it on his bedside table.
You wanted to say so many things. You wanted to ask so many things. But for some reason, nothing felt right.
You had no idea what he was thinking right now. What he could be feeling right now.
Your eyes began to water, and a few tears began to fall, more replacing them before you could wipe them all away.
Bakugo looked back at you in shock as you sat beside him, silently sobbing.
“What the fu- Hey, what's wrong?” he asked, genuine worry in his voice.
You buried your head in your hands as your cries got louder.
“You know what's wrong!” you choked out between sobs.
Bakugo let out a quiet, “What?” watching you slowly come undone.
“I was so worried about you, Bakugo!” you wailed, now unable to control your emotions or your volume.
“Hey, but I’m fine!” he said sharply, not knowing what to do or say to get you to calm down.
“I know that! Fuck!” you exclaimed, frustrated at yourself for crying like this in front of him. Like you were the victim somehow and not him. He could have died, and here you were, blubbering like an idiot.
“I'm sorry,” you said, trying to calm yourself down. “I just feel like I’ve been going crazy for the last few days. I was so worried. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep-”
Bakugo's face softened as you spoke. Had you really been that worried about him?
“I didn't know where you were, if you were hurt or not. God, I would never forgive myself if they hurt you. But once Midoriya told me you were safe, I just had to see for myself. I knew I should just give you your space after everything, but…”
You paused again as you thought back, becoming overwhelmed with emotion all over again. You started to cry again, maybe even harder this time.
Bakugo sprang up from the bed, grabbing a box of tissues from his desk and pulling out a handful, passing them to you.
You took the tissues from him and pressed them to your eyes, still sobbing.
“Jesus Christ…” he murmured, sitting beside you, closer this time. Ducking his head down a bit as he watched you cry, worry written all over his face.
He hesitated a bit, balling both of his fists in his lap before slowly and experimentally reaching an arm around your back, rubbing it in an attempt to soothe you.
The sudden contact made you flinch a bit, but you eased into his hold, pressing yourself to his body a bit as you tried to stop your tears.
Your sobs slowed down to shaky hiccups and breaths as he continued to hold and comfort you.
You took one last deep breath before you tried to speak again.
“I'm so sorry, Bakugo,” you croaked out. “I wish I could have done something, anything. I wish you didn't have to go through all that. You didn't deserve that.”
You began to straighten up, his hand still rubbing circles on your back, a bit slower now.
He watched you carefully as you sat up, eyes glossy and a bit red from all the crying. Your nose rosy, and your soft lips a bit swollen.
Was it fucked up for him to think you looked gorgeous like this?
You glanced down and saw the absolute mess of tear stains you'd made all over his T-shirt, a large wet spot evident on his left side.
You sniffled, absent-mindedly tugging at the hem of his shirt in guilt. You shook your head slightly, brows furrowed, before looking up at him with those big, beautiful, glossy eyes.
“You have no idea how worried I was…” You admitted, no longer ashamed to speak your mind. You had already embarrassed yourself enough in front of him, so why hide now?
Looking down again at his shirt again, you continued, “Once I knew you were home safe, I just couldn't stop thinking about you. I wanted to text you, or call you, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you, so I tried to keep myself busy and take my mind off of things,” you said in between more short breaths and hiccups.
“But everything I did made me think of you. I knew I wasn't going to feel better until I saw you again. That's why I came. I just had to see you. I had to know if you were really okay. I know it's selfish and I shouldn't have done it, but I just had to. M’so sorry.”
Every word you said burrowed under his skin like a spark looking for a fuse. He didn’t know what to say, he should be the one saying sorry. For worrying you. For not being strong enough. For not being the person he always claimed he was.
Your apologies. Your rambling. The way your fingers clutched the hem of his shirt like you were afraid he might vanish again.
It all hit him harder than anything had in days.
He sat there, stiff and silent, one hand still pressed gently to your back. You had stopped crying, mostly, but your eyes were still glassy. Your breath still shaky. And yet… here you were, saying everything he had been too proud to feel.
"You're not selfish,” he muttered finally, voice lower than before, almost hoarse. “You were just worried. ’S not selfish, you don’t gotta say sorry.”
You looked up at him with that look again, soft eyes, raw with emotion, and it made his chest tighten in ways he didn’t know how to handle.
“You didn't have to come,” he continued, more gruffly this time, eyes flicking to the tissues in your lap. “But... I’m not mad you did.”
“But don't worry about all that stuff,” he says. “You… you couldn’t’ve done anything. None of you could’ve.” He trailed off. His voice was low. Like admitting it hurt.
You didn’t interrupt him.
“I didn’t think I was gonna die,” he went on, after a long pause. “I didn’t. I thought I was gonna break out, make those bastards pay, win somehow.”
You gave him a soft, cautious nod.
“But I didn't do any of that... I just sat there. Like I was some helpless kid or some shit,” His voice cracked, just slightly. He swallowed hard.
“I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t feel like me.”
His hands were trembling now, barely noticeable, but you saw it. And so did he.
“And then... seeing you cry just now?” he said, brows furrowing. “It’s like, it’s like I didn’t even get it until then. Like it wasn’t real until I saw your face and heard your voice, and realized how much I scared the shit outta you. M'sorry that I scared you.”
Your expression softened in sympathy at his moment of vulnerability. You moved closer to him, bracing a hand on his forearm as the other wrapped around his back, rubbing a slow, soothing circle just as he had done for you minutes ago.
“I was scared, too,” he admitted, voice rough.
You bit your lip, eyes misting over again. “I know,"
"I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice just above a whisper.
Neither of you spoke. The silence buzzed in the space between you.
Then Bakugo turned to face you fully, shoulders hunched, gaze on the floor.
“I didn’t want to think about it. Being the one who needed saving. Being the reason people got hurt. But the second you started cryin’ like that… it hit me.”
He laughed, dry and bitter. “Shitty timing, right?”
You shook your head, your eyes searching his.
“No. Not at all.”
You moved your hand from his forearm, reaching for his hand, hesitant, careful, and when your fingers grazed his, he didn’t pull away.
“I’m glad you told me,” you said softly. “I really, really missed you.”
Bakugo didn’t speak. He just looked at your joined hands. Then at you. Then, he blinked hard and gave a quiet, almost shaky breath through his nose. This tension was becoming too much for him.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Why do you always gotta make me feel shit?”
You let out the smallest laugh, tilting your head to the side.
“That’s just what I do.”
Bakugo finally looked you in the eye. His expression was softer than you’d ever seen it. No scowl. No forced indifference. Just Katsuki.
And then, without saying another word, you gently leaned forward, resting your forehead against his cheek. He froze for a second before leaning into your touch, the arm he had wrapped around you tightening a bit.
This was the feeling you had been looking for. What you needed to take your mind off all the chaos and noise that you had been feeling the last few days. You both stayed like that, the silence and the touch almost making the world stand still.
After a few minutes, you pulled back, looking up at him, hand still laid over his. Your other hand, still on his back, slowly but steadily moved up, stopping at the nape of his neck as your thumb brushed over the short hairs there, making a tingle shoot down his spine.
“I’m really glad I got to see you, Bakugo,” you whispered. Lightly pulling him closer by his neck, shutting your eyes, and planting a soft kiss on his temple.
holding your gaze as you looked back at him, smiling. The first genuine smile he had seen from you in days. His hand still resting under yours, his other twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to hold you tighter or let go.
But it was getting late. And as much as you wanted to stay in that warm, silent space beside him, you didn’t want to overstay your welcome.
You slowly pulled back, letting your fingers slip away from his, telling him you should get back to the dorms before dinner.
He didn’t stop you, just stood up when you did, walking a step behind you as you made your way to the door. He didn’t say anything as he walked you down the stairs. Not even when his mother called something from the kitchen about dinner, that you both chose to ignore.
As you stepped onto the front porch, the sky was already streaked with soft orange and dusky purple. You turned back to him, standing just inside the doorway, arms crossed but not in a defensive way, more like he didn’t know what else to do with them.
“Thanks for letting me stop by,” you said softly.
He scoffed.
“Didn’t really have a choice. That tofu better not be shitty, by the way.”
“Still,” you said, stepping closer, “I’m glad I got to see you. I’ll see you later, ok?”
“Yeah, see ya,” he replied softly.
You paused for a second, then turned to look over your shoulder at him, smiling.
The sound of his first name on your lips made him freeze.
You turned, still smiling to yourself as you took a step.
You barely had time to turn before his hand caught your wrist.
Pulling you into his chest.
Not rushed, not clumsy, intentional.
His grip was firm, but not forceful. The kiss itself was soft, surprising in contrast to the way his hands curled around your arms like he wasn’t sure if he would ever see you again.
It didn’t last long. But when he pulled back, he stayed close.
Your foreheads almost touching. Breathing shared.
“Say that again,” he said.
You blinked, dazed. “Say what?”
You smiled against his mouth.
“Katsuki.”
He hummed in satisfaction, moving in to kiss you again,
Both of you froze at the sound of a surprised voice coming from behind you. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.
You turned just in time to see a man standing outside the house, plastic bag in one hand, car keys in the other.
Bakugo let go of you so fast that you nearly tripped.
“Hello there!” the man said sweetly. “You must be Katsuki’s friend. I’m Masaru, Katsuki’s father. Are you not staying for dinner? I picked up takeout just in case,” he said, holding up his bag.
“No, sorry, I really should be getting back to the dorms before it gets dark,” you said nervously, glancing over to Bakugo, who was now glowing red.
You slowly walked past his father before bowing your head to him.
“Thank you for having me! I’ll see you soon, Katsuki!” you said before turning and heading down the driveway.
“She seems nice,” Masaru commented, watching you until you were out of sight.
He turned and headed into the house. “Very pretty, too.”
Bakugo groaned low in his throat.
“Kill me,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face and heading inside.
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