[USA J] (:)@crimestopperusa

Nobody warned you that dating Katsuki Bakugo would completely ruin your ability to function normally around affection.

Which honestly felt unfair considering he was the one responsible for it in the first place.

Because before him, you were perfectly capable of doing things yourself. You carried your own bags without complaint, opened your own drinks, reached for things on high shelves without immediately looking around for help first. You survived perfectly fine without somebody automatically fixing your necklace clasp when it twisted the wrong way or pulling your chair out absentmindedly before you even sat down.

Then Katsuki happened.

And suddenly somewhere along the line, your standards got impossibly, horrifically high.

Not because he spoiled you intentionally either. That was the worst part.

Katsuki loved you in such a natural, consistent way that half the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It wasn’t with grand gestures or dramatic romance movie nonsense either. It was smaller than that, like quuieter. The kind of affection that slowly settles into your routine until one day you realize you genuinely don’t remember the last time you struggled with something alone because somehow Katsuki had already handled it before you even got the chance.

“Stop staring at me like that.”

His voice cut through your thoughts from across the kitchen, low and mildly suspicious, and when you looked up properly, Katsuki was already glancing at you over his shoulder from where he stood near the stove.

The apartment smelled faintly like garlic, black pepper, and whatever body wash he used lately that kept sticking to his shirts afterward. One of the windows above the sink was cracked open slightly, letting cool evening air drift inside while the city lights glowed faintly outside.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter in one of his old shirts, chin resting lazily against your palm while watching him cook.

Or more specifically—watching the way his forearms flexed every time he moved the pan.

Which, in your defense, was distracting.

“Like what?” you asked innocently after a second, blinking at him like you genuinely had no idea what he meant.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes immediately at the tone of your voice, already looking unconvinced before you even finished speaking.

“Like I’m about to buy you something,” he muttered, turning back toward the stove again with a quiet click of his tongue. “You get that look every time you want something.”

A pause settled briefly between the two of you before your brows lifted slowly.

“…Are you?”

His head turned just enough for you to catch the flat look he sent over his shoulder.

“There it is.”

A laugh slipped quietly out of you almost immediately, your smile widening against your hand.

Because honestly? This entire situation was his fault.

“You did this to yourself, you know,” you informed him casually, adjusting your legs against the stool while he stirred something in the pan with unnecessary aggression. “I wasn’t like this before you.”

“Tch. You were absolutely high maintenance before me.”

“No,” you disagreed immediately, unable to stop smiling now. “I was independent before you.”

“That sounds fake.”

“I’m serious,” you insisted, your voice softer this time, more amused than defensive as you watched him move around the kitchen so comfortably like he belonged there. “I used to know how to function normally.”

Katsuki scoffed quietly under his breath at that, though there wasn’t much heat behind it anymore.

“What does that even mean.”

“It means,” you started dramatically, sitting up straighter now as you pointed at him accusingly from across the counter, “that before dating you, I was fully capable of opening my own drinks.”

“You still are.”

“No,” you argued immediately. “Because now you automatically do it for me before I even touch them.”

“That’s because your nails are always too damn long.”

“Exactly,” you said quickly, pointing at him harder. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

His eyes narrowed slightly while you looked entirely too pleased with yourself.

“You made my life too comfortable,” you continued after a moment quieter now, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the counter while you watched him. “And now I genuinely don’t think I can go back.”

Something in his expression shifted briefly at that. Subtle enough most people probably wouldn’t notice, but you did.

Because after years of loving Katsuki, you’d gotten embarrassingly good at noticing the tiny reactions nobody else ever caught. The way his shoulders loosened whenever he relaxed around you. The slight twitch near the corner of his mouth whenever he was trying not to smile. The quieter tone his voice slipped into without realizing it.

“You’re dramatic,” he muttered eventually, though it sounded weaker now, less like an insult and more like something he said out of habit.

“Yeah,” you agreed easily, smiling to yourself. “But am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed your drink from beside the stove before finally walking over toward you.

You watched him quietly the entire time, your expression softening almost unconsciously as he stopped beside you. One of his hands settled briefly against the counter near your shoulder while the other held the bottle out toward you.

Already opened.

Your lips twitched immediately the second you noticed.

“Katsuki.”

“The hell.”

“You opened it again.”

“Tch. Don’t start.”

But he looked away slightly right after saying it, like he already knew exactly where this conversation was about to go.

A soft laugh escaped you while you took the drink from his hand anyway, your fingers brushing briefly against his.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” you murmured, looking up at him over the rim of the bottle. “You can’t keep doing things like this and then act surprised when I get attached to it.”

“You’re impossible.”

“No,” you corrected lightly before taking a sip. “I’m spoiled.”

“And whose fault is that?”

You smiled slowly then, unable to help it. Because he really walked directly into that one himself.

“Yours,” you answered simply, your voice quieter now, more affectionate than teasing. “Obviously.”

His expression flattened immediately like he regretted asking the second the words left his mouth.

Katsuki clicked his tongue quietly under his breath before turning away again, but not before reaching over to fix the sleeve of your borrowed shirt where it had slipped slightly off your shoulder first.

His fingers brushed against your skin briefly. Absentmindedly like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

And honestly? That was the dangerous part.

Katsuki never realized how affectionate he actually was because to him, taking care of you wasn’t some huge romantic gesture worth acknowledging.

It was instinct, natural like breathing.

He remembered things without trying to. The exact snacks you liked from convenience stores. Which drinks you preferred depending on your mood. The fact you hated crowded trains when you were tired. The specific side of the bed you slept better on.

He bought things casually if they reminded him of you. Replaced stuff before you even realized you ran out of them. Kept your favorite snacks stocked in his apartment like it was second nature now. He even carried hair ties around his wrist sometimes because you kept forgetting yours and stealing his whenever your hair annoyed you.

Then somehow still acted surprised when you became attached to being cared for.

“You are spoiled,” he muttered again a few minutes later while sliding your plate toward you across the counter.

You looked down automatically before pausing. The strawberries were already cut neatly into smaller pieces. Your eyes lifted slowly back toward him.

“…You cut the strawberries.”

Katsuki barely glanced up from the stove.

“Tch. You don’t like the leaves.”

Your expression softened immediately at how casually he said it. Like remembering tiny details about you was the easiest thing in the world.

“You literally proved my point again,” you said quietly, your voice gentler now as you looked back down at the plate. “This is why I can’t function anymore.”

“And? It's not like it's a problem.”

“It is, it’s a serious one actually,” you insisted, though your smile gave you away instantly. “If we ever break up, I’ll actually suffer.”

That made his eyes snap toward you immediately.

“The hell are you talking about.”

“I mean realistically?” you continued, trying and failing to sound thoughtful while resting your chin against your palm again. “Who else is gonna remember I hate strawberry leaves? Or warm my side of the bed first? Or carry my bags before I even ask?”

“You can hold your own damn bags.”

“But you don’t let me.”

“That’s because you start complaining after five damn minutes.”

“Exactly,” you said immediately, pointing at him once more. “You created this.”

He stared at you for a second like you genuinely exhausted him before exhaling sharply through his nose.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And deeply loved,” you corrected softly, unable to stop smiling at him now.

“Tch.”

But there it was again.

That tiny twitch near the corner of his mouth he kept trying to suppress whenever you said things like that too casually. Your eyes narrowed immediately when you noticed.

“Oh my God,” you gasped softly, leaning forward against the counter a little. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m literally not.”

“You literally are,” you laughed, already grinning too hard now. “Katsuki, you think I’m cute.”

“I think you talk too damn much.”

“But affectionately.”

Katsuki sighed heavily then, setting the spatula down before finally walking fully around the counter toward you.

“You’re annoying,” he muttered, though his hands were already settling automatically against your waist by the time he stopped between your knees.

Your arms slid lazily up his forearms without thinking.

“Yet here you are,” you murmured softly, tilting your head back just enough to look up at him properly.

“Tch.”

But he didn’t move away, didn’t let go either. And that, that right therewas exactly the problem.