☆Star☆

“Your grip changed again.”

His voice pulls you back to the present, sharp but not loud, his gaze fixed intently on where your fingers rest against his wrist now, your touch steady despite the slight shift in pressure he had just pointed out.

“It didn’t,” you reply, though your thumb adjusts just slightly, more out of habit than necessity. “I just moved to a different point.”

“Then you should’ve said that.” he snapped

“You didn’t ask.” you snap back,

“I shouldn’t have to ask.”

You almost smile again, the corner of your mouth twitching faintly before you smooth it out, your focus returning fully to your work.

“You usually don’t anyway.”

He huffs under his breath, something between annoyance and something else you cannot quite place, his shoulders rolling back slightly as if trying to shake off the tension that has settled there. You take a hug as you stand up out of your seat to move a bit of pressure on your wrist.

Not the concerning type of pressure or the bruising type just one that cut your attention. I said take a quick glance to look back you see holding onto your wrist as if he did not want you to go. This was something completely new, something you would never think of the explosive hero of doing. He didn’t see anything, in fact, he didn’t even look at you like he was expecting for you to read his mind as to why he held you from moving away.

You take a step back, forcing space where there hadn’t been any seconds ago, your fingers curling slightly at your sides as if trying to hold onto the lingering warmth of his touch. You weren’t scared, but you were certainly surprised by what he did. He were honest. But his touch was gentlemen, and no matter how many times he treated him.

Katsuki does not move right away.

He stands there for a second longer than necessary, his jaw tight, his gaze flicking briefly toward the door before settling somewhere just past you, like he is avoiding looking directly at you again.

“Tch,” he clicks under his breath, rolling his shoulder once as if testing it. “Whatever.”

And as always, he takes his leave. The door shuts behind him with a quiet, controlled sound.

No slam.

No explosion.

Just… gone.

You had dealt with him for years now.

You knew his temper, his habits, the way he communicated through irritation and deflection instead of anything remotely straightforward. You knew how to read the subtle changes in him, the differences between real anger and something that just sounded like it. Yet this was starting to feel...different.

You find your friend later than you meant to.

Not because you were busy, not because there was anything left to clean or organize in the infirmary, but because leaving that space felt like admitting something had changed inside of it, and you were not ready to put a name to that yet. Still, the feeling follows you.

By the time you finally speak, it comes out more uncertain than you expected.

“I think something weird happened earlier,” you admit, leaning back against the counter, your arms folding loosely across yourself like you are trying to hold your thoughts in place.

Your friend glances up at you immediately, their expression shifting from idle curiosity to something more attentive.

“Weird how?” they ask, not rushing you, not interrupting, just waiting.

You hesitate for a moment, your gaze dropping briefly to your wrist before lifting again, like you are trying to piece the moment together in a way that makes sense outside of your own head.

“I was finishing up with him,” you begin slowly, choosing your words carefully. “It was normal. He was complaining like always, telling me I was taking too long, acting like I was doing everything wrong even though he was the one who showed up in the first place.”

Your friend huffs a quiet laugh. “That sounds exactly like him.”

“That’s the thing,” you continue, shaking your head slightly. “Everything about it was normal. It felt like every other time he comes in, same tone, same attitude, same… routine.”

You pause, your brows drawing together slightly as you try to articulate what changed.

“And then I went to pull away,” you say, softer now, your voice lowering as if the memory itself requires more careful handling. “Because I was done. There wasn’t anything left to fix. It should’ve just ended there like it always does.”

Your friend straightens slightly, their attention fully on you now.

“But it didn’t,” they say, more statement than question.

You shake your head.

“No, it didn’t.”

“He stopped me,” you say finally, your voice quieter now, more focused, like you are stepping back into the moment as you describe it. “Not hard, not aggressive, just… firm enough that I couldn’t move right away. And it wasn’t like before, not like when he grabs me to get my attention or pulls me closer because he’s impatient.”

Your friend’s expression shifts slightly. “How was it different?”

You exhale slowly, your shoulders dropping just a fraction as you try to put it into something that makes sense.

“It felt intentional,” you say. “Like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he didn’t want me to leave yet. Not tight, it wasn’t like he grabbed me harder or tried to stop me in a way that felt forceful. It was just… there.”

“And he didn’t say anything?” they ask.

“No,” you say. “That’s part of it. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t look at me like he realized he was doing it either.”

You pause again, thinking back more carefully.

“He wasn’t even looking at me,” you add, your voice softer now. “It was like… he was just holding on without acknowledging it, but at the same time it didn’t feel accidental.”

That contradiction lingers in the space between you, making the moment feel more complicated than it should. You shift your weight slightly, your fingers curling now as if trying to move away from the sensation that still lingers.

“I stepped back after that,” you continue. “I created some space because it felt like I needed to, not because I was scared, but because I didn’t know what else to do with it. It surprised me.”

Your friend nods slowly, encouraging you to keep going.

“And when I stepped back, he didn’t move right away,” you say, your voice softening again as the memory sharpens. “He just stood there for a second longer than necessary. His jaw was tight, and he looked away like he didn’t want to look at me after that.”

Silence settles between you for a moment, not empty, but thoughtful. Your friend leans back slightly, arms crossing loosely as they process everything you have said.

“And you don’t know why he did it,” they say, their face scrunched as if they were trying to piece it together. You let out a quiet breath, something almost like a soft laugh but without humor.

“Well...when it does happen again,” they continue, their voice steady, “don’t rush to step away this time unless you actually want to. Pay attention to what he does if you don’t immediately create that space.”

Your chest tightens slightly at that, not in discomfort, but in anticipation of something you cannot quite predict.

“You think he’ll do something different?” you ask, your friend’s lips curve just slightly.

“I think he already did something different,” they reply. “You just weren’t expecting it.”

"And now," a devious smile crept on their face "it's your turn to move"

You should have said no, should have brushed it off as unnecessary, as something that would complicate a situation you were only just beginning to understand. That would have been the safer choice, the more reasonable one, the version of yourself that kept things steady and predictable inside the walls of the infirmary.

The infirmary is already occupied when the door opens.

Another pro hero sits on the edge of the exam table, sleeve pushed up, a shallow but messy cut running along his forearm. It is not serious, but it is enough to warrant your attention, enough that you are already focused, your hands steady against his skin of his chest as your quirk works beneath your touch. The room is quiet in that familiar way, the hum of equipment low in the background, your voice soft as you speak.

“Hold still,” you murmur, your thumb adjusting slightly as you guide the healing. “It’ll close faster if you don’t tense up.”

“I’m trying,” he says with a light laugh, his shoulders easing as the warmth spreads through his arm. “Didn’t think something like this would feel this—”

“Warm?” you offer "I've had heros fall asleep just as I finish up,"

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s weirdly calming and comforting"

You could feel the tension before you looked over your shoulder. The door swung open and closed, his mighty presence taking over the room. For a split second, your instincts pull at you, that familiar reflex to acknowledge him immediately, to shift your attention the second he steps into your space. This time you didn't,

"Hey, just take a seat and I'll be right there," you called out, not even giving him a glance. Your hands remain steady, your focus unmoved as you continue working, your touch careful, attentive, exactly as it always is. You leaned in a bit more, focused on the wound. Meanwhile the silence behind you was deafening, you could practically feel how his eyes were boring into you.

“You’re not done yet?" the hero in front of you says lightly, glancing at your expression for a moment.

“Almost,” you reply, your voice calm, your attention still fixed on your work, taking your time, “Just a little more.”

The warmth of your quirk deepens slightly, your fingers shifting with quiet precision, your movements smooth, practiced, unhurried. Behind you, Katsuki still has said nothing but you can feel the way the air sits differently, in the way your awareness keeps pulling back toward him even as you deliberately keep your attention forward.

“Alright,” you say finally, easing your hands back as the injury stabilizes, the worst of it already gone. “You’re good. Just don’t reopen it.”

The hero moves his arm around testing out the patched wound, clearly relieved. “That’s way better than dealing with it at the hospital, thanks Y/N!”

“You’re welcome.”

The words leave you easily, naturally, your tone just as soft as it had been the entire time, your attention still lingering on your patient for a second longer than necessary as you check your work out of habit. You step back just enough to give him space, your hands lowering slowly, the warmth of your quirk fading as the moment settles. You can feel it before you turn, the weight of his presence pressing into the quiet, sharper now, heavier in a way that makes the air feel thinner. It is not loud, not explosive, not the kind of tension that announces itself with noise or movement.

You reach for a cloth, wiping your hands slowly, methodically, giving yourself a moment longer before you face him, before you acknowledge the shift that has already taken hold of the room.

Your patient thanks you again, something light, something easy, and you respond just as smoothly, nodding once as he steps past you and toward the door. It opens and closes behind him and there stood Katsuki. He hadn't moved from that very spot.

His shoulders are set tighter, his stance more grounded, like he’s planted himself there instead of simply stopping. His jaw is clenched just enough to be noticeable, his gaze already on you the second you face him, sharp and unwavering in a way that feels more focused than usual. You meet his gaze evenly, your expression composed, your posture relaxed despite the shift in the room.

“What do you need?” you ask, your tone professional, steady, like this is no different than any other time he has walked in.

Before he could answer, his eyes lingered and traced down to your hands. The same hands that healed him were the same ones that had just been on someone else.

“…You took your time,” he says finally, his voice low, rougher than before, like the words had been sitting there longer than they should have.

You tilt your head slightly, not defensive, not apologetic.

“I had a patient,” you reply simply with a slight shrug.

His jaw shifts, the muscle ticking faintly as his eyes narrow just slightly, not in anger, but in something more controlled, something that looks like he’s holding something back instead of letting it out.

“You don’t make me wait,” he says, almost like a spoiled child

You flex your fingers slightly, like you’re considering something, like you’re weighing a thought that hadn’t been there before but now refuses to leave. The same hands he had been watching, same hands he had just complained about. You step closer, closing the distance between you and the door, your gaze locking onto his crimson eyes. There's a spark there, something raw and unspoken. He knew that you knew...he could see it in your eyes, the way they gleamed with mischief.

letting your fingers linger just a second too long on that other hero's chest, your healing quirk humming against his skin while Bakugou watched from across the room. It was deliberate, a nudge to crack that tough exterior of his.

"I made you wait because you're not special, all my patients need treating," you say, your voice dropping to a softer, teasing lilt as you reach out, your fingers brushing his forearm. The contact sends a warm pulse of your quirk through him, easing any lingering tension from his last patrol, but you let it fade quickly, keeping the touch intimate rather than professional.

Bakugou's breath hitches, his eyes flicking down to where your hand rests on his skin. He doesn't pull away, instead, he steps forward, crowding your space in the small infirmary, the door clicking shut behind him with a firm push of his boot. "Not special, huh? That what you tell all the extras?"

His words are gruff, laced with that familiar bite, but there's an undercurrent of heat, jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. You can see it in the way his fists clench at his sides, the way his gaze darts back to your chest for a split second before snapping up again.

You smile, slow and knowing, and slide your hand up his arm, feeling the hard muscle tense under your palm. "Only you would throw a tantrum for not being first, Katsuki. But if it bothers you that much... maybe I should make it up to you."

He growls low in his throat, grabbing your wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to pin it against the wall beside your head. His body presses in close, heat radiating off him like a furnace, his free hand slamming against the wall on your other side, caging you in.

"Bothers me? You think I give a shit about waitin'? I saw you touchin' that bastard like he was worth your time. Your hands all over him."

His voice is rough, possessive, and it sends a thrill straight to your core. You arch into him slightly, your free hand coming up to grip the front of his hero costume, tugging him closer. "Jealous, Bakugou? Didn't think the great Pro Hero got pissy over a little healing work."

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear, hot breath fanning your skin. "Damn right I'm jealous. Those hands are mine. You don't get to waste 'em on some weak-ass nobody when you could be feeling me up instead."

You turn your head, capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss before he can say more. He responds instantly, devouring you like he's been starving for it, his tongue pushing past your lips to claim every inch. You take control, nipping at his lower lip, your hand sliding down to palm the growing bulge in his pants. He groans into your mouth, hips bucking forward instinctively.

Pulling back just enough to speak, you murmur against his lips, "Then let me show you how special you are. Strip for me.... I want to see all of you."

His eyes darken, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the flush creeping up his neck. "Bossy today, huh? Fine. Ya' better make it worth my while."

He steps back just enough to yank off his gauntlets and jacket, tossing them aside with his usual explosive efficiency. His shirt follows, revealing the chiseled planes of his chest and abs, scarred from battles but no less intoxicating. You don't wait, you reach for his belt, unbuckling it with quick fingers, shoving his pants and boxers down in one go. His cock springs free, thick and hard, already leaking pre-cum at the tip. You never thought you'd find a cock so pleasing to look at. All you could think of was how it was gonna stretch and fill you pussy.

"Fuck...you're so hard Katsuki," you breathe, wrapping your hand around his length, stroking him firmly from base to tip. He hisses, head falling back for a moment. He already loved your touch but this elevated it to a new level. If you hand was this snug and warm, your cunt must be pure heaven. His hands are on you, ripping at the buttons of your uniform top.

You let him peel the fabric away, your bra following, and he doesn't hesitate, his mouth latches onto one nipple, sucking hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. You gasp, threading your fingers through his spiky hair, holding him there as pleasure shoots through you.

"That's it, Katsuki...oh god~ suck on them just like that. You love this huh? Knowing no one else gets this," a devious grin came to your face as his teeth scrapped a bit, his tongue lapped as your peaked nipples. He switches to the other breast, teeth grazing the flesh just enough to sting, his hand kneading the first. 

He only groans and growls against the skin, a possessive rumble, vibrating against your skin, and you push him back toward the exam table, taking charge. "Sit," you command, and he does, eyes locked on you as you shimmy out of your clothes, kicking them aside. you climb onto his lap, straddling him, your wet pussy grinding against his cock.

"You're being so good for me Kats," you tease, positioning yourself over him. He growls at the praise, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You sink down slowly, inch by inch, his thick length stretching you perfectly. A moan escapes you both as you bottom out, your walls clenching around him, you hiss with a moan

"Fuck, you're so big, Katsuki, god its so fucking good,"

He thrusts up sharply, making you cry out. "Damn straight. And you're takin' me so good. That pussy's greedy for it, I can feel it," he leans back a bit to watch his cock slide out and back in as you slam down on him "Gonna pump this cunt full of me,"

You start moving, rolling your hips in a steady rhythm, hands braced on his shoulders. He watches you with hooded eyes, one hand sliding up to pinch your nipple again while the other digs into your ass, guiding you faster.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you? Makin' me watch you heal that fucker. Wanted me jealous so I'd fuck you like this?"

"Yes," you admit breathlessly, grinding down harder, chasing the friction, his hand crawled up your front to come and gently squeeze at the column of your throat. The pressure making your eyes roll back.

His grip tightens, hips snapping up to meet yours with bruising force. "Idiot. I've wanted you since the first time you patched me up. Thought you were annoyin' as hell, but those hands..." hr groaned as he leaned up to whisper in your ear

"Thought about em' stroking my cock, making me cum right on the talble."

The sound of your pants and moans, skin slapping skin and the wet sound of his cock pumping your pussy filled the room. The erotic noises made your walls squeeze around his cock more, chasing your high.

You lean down, kissing him messily, tongues tangling as you ride him relentlessly. "Then cum for me, Katsuki. Fill me up. I want your cum dripping out of me....show everyone that I-I'm yours!"

He groans, sucking your tit back into his mouth, laving the nipple with rough attention while his thrusts grow erratic. "Shit, yeah. Gonna creampie this tight pussy....no one gets to--fuck! gets to have you!"

"God! Please Katsuki! P-please fuck me harder~"

He does, pounding up into you with everything he's got, his mouth alternating between your breasts, sucking and biting until you're trembling. Your orgasm crashes over you first, walls fluttering around his cock, milking him as you cry out his name.

"That's it, cum on my dick," he rasps, following seconds later with a guttural moan. Hot spurts of cum flood your pussy, filling you deep as he holds you down, grinding through it. You collapse against him, both panting, his arms wrapping around you in a surprisingly gentle hold. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, voice soft for once.

"Don't pull that jealousy shit again. if you wanted to get fucked that bad, shoulda just said it."

You smile, nuzzling into his neck. "Deal. But....you were the pissy one you know. All pouty in the corner for attention" you teased him

You had been feeling a bit off for the past 4 days and nights. It was like a lingering soreness in your body, but it was centered more in your chest and breasts. Perhaps your body was still acclimating to the colder weather here. Now you’ve noticed the change had come in the form of hunger.

Not the usual kind that followed a long day of work or the kind that settled in your stomach after missing a meal, but something more persistent, something that lingered even after you had eaten, a quiet, steady pull that returned far sooner than it should have, leaving you standing near the cooking fire longer than usual, your fingers picking at pieces of food you did not remember reaching for.

One of the women noticed before you did.

“Vor zhun len now… threk nak?” she remarked, watching you with a faint lift of her brow as you reached for another portion. (Your appetite has become heft, no?)

You paused mid-motion, glancing down at your hands as if they belonged to someone else.

“I worked more today,” you said, though the explanation felt thin even to you. You took another shameless bite of your portion still feeling ready for more. You even had a craving for specific pink berries that Katsuki had brought you once during a hunt. But they only grew in the summer time sadly.

She had hummed, but said nothing more. After that he soreness had honestly gotten worse. It settled into your body in ways that were difficult to ignore but easy to dismiss, a lingering sensitivity that followed you through the day, making the brush of fabric against your chest feel sharper than usual, making you shift unconsciously as you worked, adjusting your posture without realizing how often you were doing it.

One thing about Katsuki was certain. He was observant and he picked up on things quickly. One of those things being the way you move, act and go about your day. He noticed the changes and knew they weren’t you usual way of being.

“You are moving strangely.”

Katsuki’s voice had come from behind you that evening, low and steady, his presence already close before you had turned. Coming back to your hut after a meeting of the elders and other hunters of the tribe.

“I am fine,” you had replied automatically, your hands still adjusting the same fold of fur that had already been straightened twice before.

“You said that yesterday.”

“And I was fine yesterday.”

He had stepped closer then, his gaze settling on you with that same quiet intensity that had never dulled, even after two years, even after everything between you had changed.

“You still move like that,” he had said, quieter now.

“I am…..adjusting,”

“To what?” It wasn’t a challenge but it was a question from concern.

That had been the problem. You hadn’t had anything to push against.

“…nothing,” you had answered after a moment.

He had not argued, but he had not believed you either.

The mood came next.

Subtle, but sharper. Some may have said that you had adopted Katsuki’s mood from when she was younger. Your tongue was sharp and quick, and your temper was shorter. Sometimes even the teasing of other women got on your nerves.

You felt it building before it showed itself, the way your patience wore thinner than it should have, the way your thoughts lingered longer than necessary, the way small things pressed more heavily against your chest than they ever had before.

You noticed it. You just didn’t know how to stop it.

Katsuki would think about how you had been acting through his day.

Even during hunts, when his focus should have been locked entirely on movement, on sound, on the shifting patterns of the forest that told him where prey had gone and where it would circle back, his mind pulled away in brief, unwanted moments, returning again and again to the small, subtle changes he had begun to notice in you over the past few days. Not something another person would have pointed out.

But he wasn’t another person, and you were just any woman of the tribe. You were his wife....he was supposed to care for you. He knew the way you walked when you were tired versus when you were simply annoyed, he knew the difference between your silence when you were thinking and your silence when something was bothering you, he knew how your body moved when you were comfortable and how it shifted when something felt off.

“You missed that.”

The voice pulled him back sharply, his attention snapping forward just as the animal they had been tracking darted between two trees, the opportunity slipping in the span of a second. Katsuki didn’t move to chase it like he usually would. The others were already in motion, one of them veering off to circle, another cutting through the brush with a sharp exhale as they adjusted to the loss of clean positioning.

“You don’t miss like that,” one of the men said as he came to a stop beside him, his breath steady despite the short burst of movement, his gaze narrowing slightly as he looked at Katsuki rather than the direction the animal had disappeared. His eyes followed the trail for another second longer before he finally shifted, his shoulders rolling once as if resetting his focus.

“Thae nyra-vael miren solkai.,” he said lowly. He had this habit of switching back to his native tongue when something was bothering him or weighing heavy on his mind. (it wasn't worth the chase)

“No,” the man replied, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth as he exhaled, his gaze shifting briefly toward the others before returning to Katsuki with a sharper, more assessing look, “you just weren’t paying attention.”

Katsuki did not answer him right away, though the lack of response in itself said more than denial would have, his silence lingering just long enough for the others to take notice, for the weight of it to settle in a way that made it clear he was not going to argue the point. The man studying him let out a quiet breath through his nose, his brow lifting slightly as he adjusted his stance, clearly unconvinced by the absence of explanation.

“What’s wrong with you today,” he asked, this time less casually, his tone carrying a more deliberate edge as his eyes narrowed, “because you don’t move like this unless something’s pulling your attention somewhere else.”

Katsuki’s gaze shifted briefly, not toward the speaker but past him, toward the direction of the camp as if his focus had already begun to drift again despite himself, his jaw tightening faintly before he forced his attention back to the present.

“Thae nyra sela....,” he said at last, though the words lacked the usual bite they carried when he wanted a conversation to end, his voice steadier than his focus had been, but not sharp enough to shut it down completely. (it's nothing..)

“You say that,” he replied, slower this time, more deliberate, “but you haven’t been in the hunt since we left the camp, and you don’t lose focus unless something else has already taken it.”

Katsuki exhaled slowly through his nose, his shoulders rolling once as if resetting himself again, though the motion did little to fully ground him, his mind already circling back to the same place it had returned to again and again since the morning.

“It’s nothing,” he said, though the words lacked the sharp edge they usually carried when he wanted something dropped.

The man didn’t buy it.

He let out a quiet breath, shifting his weight as he glanced briefly at the others before looking back at Katsuki again, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly as if he already had a direction in mind.

“You say that,” he replied, “but men don’t lose focus like that over nothing, so either you’re injured and not saying it, or something back home is sitting in your head and not letting go.”

Another man snorted quietly at that, folding his arms as he stepped closer, his tone lighter but no less observant.

“Or his wife’s finally giving him trouble,” he added, a faint grin slipping through, “wouldn’t be the first time a man walked into the woods thinking about something he said wrong and his woman let him have it while he left.”

A few low chuckles followed, the sound easy, familiar, not cruel, just part of the way these conversations always shifted when something personal slipped into them.

“…she’s not like that,” he said, his voice steady, though quieter now, more deliberate. The older man beside him hummed softly, not dismissing it, but not letting it end there either.

“No woman is ‘like that’ until something changes,” he said, his gaze settling more firmly on Katsuki now

"....she’s been acting strange,” There was a brief pause as the group settled, the humor fading into something more grounded, the shift subtle but noticeable as attention turned fully to Katsuki now.

“What kind of strange,” one of them asked, less teasing now, more curious, “because there’s a difference between her being angry at you and her not feeling right.”

“Lira velen dareth,” he said, his voice slower now, more focused, “kae morin thal lira, vesh lira nyraeth noct..” (She moves different, like something is bothering her, but she doesn’t say it.)

“That sounds like every woman,” someone muttered under his breath, earning a quiet huff of agreement from another.

“..She says she's fine, but I can feel that she doesn't feel completely fine either...." he admits. He should know these things, know the answers, answer your problems and help you. Not sulk about being stuck on what to do

"Well...." the older man started, "You're gonna get back home tonight, ask her how she's been feeling and talk about it. Either she is pissed at you or she's sick. Either way, she needs you,"

His gaze shifting briefly toward the valley below, toward the faint trails that led back to camp, toward you, even though you were far beyond sight, his mind already pulling ahead of him, retracing the small moments he had brushed past earlier in the day, the way your hand had pressed against your side, the way your shoulders had shifted more often than they should have, the way your tone had carried something sharper beneath it when you spoke.

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

“…we’re done here,” he said finally, his voice firm, grounded, already stepping away before anyone could respond.

By the time he reached the edge of the camp, the sun had begun to dip lower, the light stretching long across the snow in pale gold and shadow, the usual movement of the tribe settling into its evening rhythm, fires being fed, voices lowering, the day giving way to something quieter.

Inside the hut, you were already moving. Not because you needed to, but because you couldn’t seem to stop. Your hands adjusted the same bundle of furs again, fingers tugging at the edges, smoothing fabric that had already been straightened, your body shifting restlessly as if something beneath your skin refused to settle no matter how still you tried to stand. You didn’t hear him at first.

Not until the flap dropped closed behind him. The cold air slipped in briefly before the warmth swallowed it again, and you stilled just enough to acknowledge that he was there.

“You said you would be back before dark,” you muttered, your voice tighter than you intended, the words leaving you before you had time to soften them, your attention still half on the furs in your hands.

“Sorin ethra-vael sorin kelin.” he answered, his tone even, controlled, though quieter than usual, more deliberate. (I said I would try)

You huffed under your breath, your fingers tightening slightly before releasing again. For some reason, him speaking in his tongue irritated you. Almost like when you had first got here

“You say that every time,” you replied, turning just enough to look at him, though your gaze didn’t hold steady, irritation sitting too close to the surface.

“Toren valek drael sena, lume,” he said simply. (There was work that had to be done, love)

“There is always work,” you shot back, the edge in your voice sharper now, quicker than it should have been. He watched you closely, as he has been for the past few days. He chose his nect step closely, thinking of how to approach it.

“Thera nyra vireth,” he said, his voice was neutral, low and soft. (You are upset.)

“I am not upset....vesh kareth nyraeth sorineth velin theraen!” now typically you didn't mind talking his mother language, but tonight it irritated you to no end. (and stop talking to me in your language!)

“You are....” he complied and stopped, not wanting to add wood to the fire.

“I said I’m not—” Your voice lifted, not vastly but enough for him to pick up on. Enough to make you clear your throat before talking again.

“You are breathing faster,” he said, stepping closer, his voice still calm, still controlled, but more focused now, “and you have not stopped working since I came in...it's late”

“I am working normally...this is normal of me to work late!" you snapped, your chest tightening, your hands dropping from the furs as you turned fully toward him.

“No,” he replied, not harsh, not loud, just certain, “it's not normal for you....”

Your jaw clenched, “Why are you doing that?!” you demanded, your voice sharpening, frustration rising too quickly, too easily, “why are you watching me like something is wrong with me!?”

“Because something is wrong,” he answered, his tone steady, grounded, carrying no accusation, only certainty.

“There is nothing wrong with me!” you snapped, louder now, the words breaking out before you could stop them.

“You almost dropped the water yesterday," he points out

“That means nothing.”

“You are not steady.”

“I am just tired!” you put down your work with some force as you stand, you hands clenched.

“Vesh thera nyraeth noct thae thalor sorin kaelis...” in his tongue again, but it was soft...it was warm.... (And you do not say that until I point it out.)

Your breath caught...and it made everything worse. You hadn't spoken to anyone about this...not even Katsuki. You felt overwhelmed with everything that felt off and out of place in your own body.

“I don’t need you to watch every little thing I do,” you said, your voice tightening, your chest already beginning to feel too small, “I am not going to fall apart because I carried water or because you came back late.”

“That is not what I said.”

“It’s what you’re acting like!"

“I am acting like something is wrong,” he corrected, his voice still calm, still measured, “because something is.”

“I said I’m fine!” you snapped, the words louder now, sharper, spilling out before you could catch them. Silence followed, it was heavy almost instantly...and it made your chets tighten and break.

“I don’t feel fine,” you admitted, your voice cracking, the tension collapsing all at once as your gaze dropped away from him, your hands curling slightly at your sides. Slowly making their way up to your face to cover your face as tears welling in your eyes.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you continued, quieter now, your words uneven, the frustration giving way to something softer, more vulnerable, “I’m tired all the time, and everything hurts, and I get upset over nothing and I don’t even know why...”

Your breath hitched “I don’t feel like myself.”

He moved to you slowly, his hands came to your arms, steady, grounding, pulling you closer without force, his touch firm enough to anchor you but gentle enough that you didn’t pull away. His hand shifted, moving to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing slowly against your skin, the motion familiar, steadying, something you didn’t even realize you needed until it was there.

“I didn’t mean to fight with you.” you voice was now soft and broken and tired, and it hurt him to hear you. He held you, allowing you to cry and sob and yell as much as you needed while he held you together.

“I know....”

“I didn’t mean any of that.”

“I know....”

“I just… don’t feel right,” you admitted again, softer now.

His hand remained where it was, steady and grounding. Keeping you from feeling as though you were falling apart.

“Come on, the healer will help us,” he added, shifting slightly as if to guide you forward, his arm moving to settle more securely around you.

You didn’t move, not right away. You just needed a moment. Your hand caught lightly at his wrist, your fingers tightening just enough to stop him, not pulling away, but not following either.

Katsuki…” your voice was softer now, worn down, the earlier urgency gone, replaced with something heavier, something more exhausted than afraid.

He stilled immediately. His gaze dropped to you again, his attention narrowing without pressure, without impatience.

“You don’t need to drag me out there right now,” you murmured, your brows pulling together faintly, your body leaning into him rather than away, “I just… I think I need to sit. Just for a moment.”

There was no argument in your voice. He gave you a short nod, didn’t push or pry to see the healer. Instead, his grip shifted, his arm tightening slightly around you as he guided you back toward the furs rather than toward the door, his movements slower now, more deliberate, making sure you didn’t have to carry your own weight more than necessary.

“Sit,” he murmured again, lowering you carefully.

You sank down, your body heavier now that the tension had left it, your limbs settling into the warmth as you exhaled slowly, your hand still loosely holding onto his sleeve as if letting go entirely would undo the small sense of steadiness you had just found.

Katsuki didn’t pull away. He crouched in front of you instead, his gaze moving over your face, your posture, the way your breathing had shifted, taking in everything with the same focused intensity he brought to everything else in his life.

“You are warm,” he said, his hand lifting briefly to your cheek, then your temple, checking without needing permission.

“I’m fine,” you murmured again, softer this time, without the sharpness, without the need to defend it.

He didn’t argue against it or insist that you weren’t. He exhaled quietly, his hand dropping as he reached for another fur, pulling it around your shoulders, adjusting it carefully, making sure it sat right, that it covered you fully.

Your shoulders dropped slightly, your grip on his sleeve loosening just enough that he could move, though he didn’t go far, shifting instead to sit beside you, close enough that his presence remained constant, his arm resting along the furs near your side.

The fire burned low between you, the soft crackle filling the silence as your breathing evened out, your eyes closing without fully meaning to, exhaustion pulling you under more quickly than expected. For a moment you felt peaceful, and steady and secure. Compared to what happened and the past week, this was the most tranquil you had felt.

Sadly, It didn’t last.

The discomfort returned slowly at first, a low, twisting sensation that pulled at your stomach just enough to stir you from sleep, your brows pulling together faintly as you shifted beneath the furs, your hand moving instinctively to your abdomen.

It tightened, then eased….the flipped and bubbled.

Tightened again.

Sharper.

Stronger.

Your breath caught, you felt a pressure like sensation.

“Katsuki…I don’t…I-I…” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep, uncertain. He was already moving.

“I’m here,” he answered immediately, his hand coming to your side, steady, grounding.

You tried to sit up.

The motion made it worse.

The twist in your stomach sharpened suddenly, violently, your body reacting faster than your thoughts could catch up, your breath hitching hard as your hand flew to your mouth.

“Oh—”

His arm was around you instantly, pulling you upright before you could even attempt to steady yourself, your weight leaning heavily into him as your body betrayed you completely.

“I’ve got you,” he said, low and firm, already moving.

The moment your feet touched the ground, your knees nearly gave out.

His grip tightened, lifting you fully, your body barely aware of the shift as he carried you toward the entrance, pushing the flap aside with his shoulder as the cold air rushed in. You barely made it outside. The moment your knees hit the ground, your body lurched hard, your hands bracing against the earth as everything came up at once, your breath breaking into uneven, strained sounds.

One hand pressed firmly against your back, the other braced near your shoulder, ready to catch you if you slipped, his jaw tightening as he watched you, his gaze sharper now, more focused, more concerned than he had allowed himself to show before.

“Easy,” he muttered, even though it wasn’t “that it…..let it out…”

Your arms trembled beneath you.

Your strength faltered. He moved without hesitation, his arm sliding under you, lifting you fully this time, pulling you back against him as he rose, your head falling weakly against his shoulder. He carried you back inside immediately, the warmth hitting you both as he lowered you carefully onto the furs, his movements controlled despite the urgency now sitting just beneath them.

His jaw tightened, he took a deep breath and held it. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head once under his breath as if rejecting something, as if discarding the last bit of patience he had been holding onto.

“No,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you at first, his voice low but no longer passive, no longer waiting. His gaze lifted back to yours, sharper now.

“This isn’t nothing,” he continued, his tone steady but firmer than before, each word more deliberate than the last, “you’ve been off for days, you can’t keep food down, you’re shaking, and you’re still trying to tell me you’re fine.”

You opened your mouth to argue.

He didn’t let you.

“No,” he repeated, not raising his voice, but leaving no room for you to push back this time, his hand lifting slightly as if to stop the words before they could leave you, “I listened when you said you needed a moment, I gave you time to rest, I didn’t drag you out of here the second something felt wrong, but this….this isn’t something to brush off!”

Katsuki had learned over the years that patients was key for you. Especially with the language barrier. However there were times where your husband may lose his temper, he is Katsuki after all, but it was all out of best interest. Like the time you insisted on swimming across and river and nearly got swept away.

These words were just the same. Not angry, not commanding nor controlling, they were final. His hand came to your arm again,

“I’m not guessing anymore,” he said, quieter now, but more resolved than anything he had said so far, “I’m not standing here watching you try to push through something you don’t understand.”

Your fingers curled weakly against the furs.

“Katsuki… it might just be—”

“It’s not ‘just’ anything,” he cut in, not sharply, but with a weight that stopped you anyway, his gaze locking onto yours with a steadiness that made it clear he was done letting you minimize it.

“If it’s nothing,” he added, his voice lowering slightly, “then we hear that from someone who knows.”

He gave you a look that told you stay put as he rose back to his feet.

“I’m getting the healer.”

The night air hit him hard the moment he stepped outside, the cold sharper now, biting against his skin as he moved quickly through the camp, his steps faster than usual but never uncontrolled, his focus locked, his mind already running through everything again with clearer edges now.

The tiredness, the soreness, the mood, th sickness. He dint stop until he reached the healer’s hut, pushing the entrance aside without ceremony.

“She’s sick,” he said immediately,

One thing was for sure, when it came to you there was no formalities, rules or introduction. You were sick and needed care. Didn’t question the intrusion, she knew that look all too well. She stood, grabbed her cloak and allowed Katsuki to lead her.

When they returned, he stepped in first again, his presence filling the hut before the cold could follow, his gaze already on you, checking, making sure you hadn’t worsened in the time he had been gone.

“She was sick,” he repeated, stepping aside only slightly to allow the healer through, though he stayed close, his body angled toward you, his attention fixed. The healer moved calmly, lowering herself beside you, her hands steady as she reached for yours.

“When did it start,” she asked.

“…tonight,” you murmured, your voice softer now, worn, “but I haven’t felt well for days.”

“And before that?”

“Soreness… tired… I’ve been… off.”

“And your bleeding?” She asked

You froze….you honestly could not remember when it last was.

“…I don’t know,” you admitted.

“What does that mean,” he asked, his voice lower now, tighter, the control still there but thinner than before.

The healer didn’t look at him. She simply reached for the handful of items she brought with her and said “the blood will tell us what this means,”

The healer’s hands did not rush. That was the first thing that unsettled him.

Even with the way he had come into her space, even with the urgency sitting just beneath his skin, even with the fact that you were lying behind her still recovering from being sick, her movements remained steady, deliberate, completely unaffected by the tension that had filled the hut the moment he stepped inside.

She worked as if time was something she could stretch. As if there was no reason to hurry. Katsuki did not share that luxury. Of course, he’d wait as long as he needed to. But with you and your health in the line, he’d like an answer in 5 seconds.

His gaze did not leave her hands as she took yours, as she pricked your finger with the small sharpened bone, as the blood gathered and fell into the bowl beneath it, his attention narrowing completely, everything else in the hut fading into something distant and irrelevant compared to what was happening in front of him. The healer reached for the herbs next, crushing them between her fingers before letting them fall into the blood, her movements practiced, familiar, something she had done countless times before.

He watched everything.

The way the color shifted. The way the mixture thickened, the way her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied it. But every second that passed stretched longer than it should have, his patience thinning not from impatience, but from the simple fact that he did not have an answer yet.

The healer stilled her motions.

His gaze sharpened immediately, his body leaning forward just slightly without realizing it, the shift in her hands enough to tell him that something had changed before she even spoke.

“What is it,” he asked, his voice cutting into the quiet, not loud, not aggressive, but far more direct than anything he had said since stepping into the hut. she lifted the bowl slightly, turning it just enough for him and for you to see.

“You are with child, dear,”

Those words had landed immediately, heavy and certain, settling into the space in a way that did not allow for doubt or misinterpretation.

Katsuki’s gaze dropped immediately to you, to the way your hand had already moved to your stomach without thinking, to the way your body had instinctively curled slightly around it as if something in you already understood what your mind had just caught up to.

His jaw tightened and without hesitation, his hand lifted and came down against your stomach, his palm firm but careful, his fingers spreading slightly as if grounding himself against something that had suddenly become very real, very important, in a way he had not been prepared for.

“That’s why,” he said, quieter now, but not uncertain, his voice shifting as the pieces began to connect, “you’ve been tired, you keep stopping in the middle of things, you’ve been sore, you get upset over nothing, and then you were sick—”

He finally had an answer to what had been causing all this. Chasing the confusion and frustration….you were pregnant. His hand pressed slightly more firmly, not enough to hurt, just enough to confirm, to anchor himself in the reality of what was in front of him.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, his chest rising once before settling again, his thoughts catching up fully now, aligning in a way that removed the confusion and replaced it with something far more focused.

“…you’re carrying…” he started, slower now, the words forming more carefully as he adjusted to them, “…my child.”

The healer did not linger after that.

She gave her instructions calmly, her voice steady as she explained what to expect, what to avoid, what would come in the days ahead, her attention moving between you and Katsuki as if she were measuring not only your condition, but how the two of you would handle it together.

“You will need rest,” she said, her gaze settling briefly on you, “and patience, because your body will not move the way it used to for a while.”

Her eyes shifted to Katsuki next

“And you,” she added, more pointedly, “will not let her pretend that she is still able to do everything the same way she did before.”

Katsuki didn’t argue or question.

He simply nodded once, the agreement immediate, firm, already decided before she had finished speaking. The healer hummed softly, satisfied enough with that response, before gathering her things and rising to her feet, her presence leaving the hut as quietly as it had entered, the faint scent of herbs lingering behind her even after she was gone.

The next morning The camp had already begun moving by the time you stepped outside.

The cold met you first, sharp and familiar, but it didn’t settle the same way it used to, not with the extra layer of furs Katsuki had made sure you wore, not with the way he stayed close, just slightly to your side, his attention shifting between the camp and you in a way that did not go unnoticed.

It never did.

One of the older women saw you first.Her gaze moved over you quickly, taking in the slower pace of your steps, the way your hand lingered just slightly too long at your stomach, the way Katsuki didn’t stray more than a step from you.

“So,” she said as you approached, her voice carrying quiet certainty rather than curiosity, “you went to the healer last night.”

You hesitated only briefly.

“She said…” you started, your voice steady, though softer than usual, “…that I carry our first born,”

Her face broke into a bright smile. Her clasping together

“Oh I just knew something was different!” She had become so excited by the news “I told the other women you had a certain glow! And I was right,”

Another voice joined from the side, one of the men stepping closer, his gaze flicking briefly between you and Katsuki before settling with a faint grin.

“That explains why he’s been walking around like something is wrong,” he said, the humor light but not unkind.

A quiet ripple of laughter followed from those nearby. He simply remained where he was, his posture steady, his presence grounded, his attention not leaving you even as others spoke.

“She is doing better?” the man asked, his tone shifting slightly, more serious now.

“She will be,” Katsuki answered, his voice calm, firm, leaving no space for doubt.

“Good,” he said, glancing toward the others, “then we’ll have more to celebrate soon.”

One voice turned into another, then another, the quiet acknowledgment moving through the camp like something shared, something understood, until more people began to approach, each one offering something small but meaningful, a word, a touch, a look that carried warmth without overwhelming you.

“You will not be carrying water anymore,” one woman said firmly.

“And if you try,” another added, her gaze flicking briefly toward Katsuki, “he will stop you before you get three steps in,” A few quiet laughs followed.

The moment passed naturally, settling back into the rhythm of the camp without losing the shift it had created. When it finally quieted again, when the last of the voices had drifted away and the morning returned to something more familiar, you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly as the weight of it all settled in a different way than it had the night before.

“They’re all very happy,” you said, your voice softer now.

Katsuki nodded once, “They should be.”

You glanced at him, “And you?”

He paused for a moment. Took it all in, your discomfort, his confusion but the results coming back to your family growing in size. To look at you from the details of your face and hair down to the wah you leaned more to one side then the other. You…his wife, his love and now the mother of his child. He could not deny the warmth the had spread through out his chest.

“I am….i am very happy,” he moved some hair out of your face, as his had comes down to rest on your stomach. His forehead coming to rest against yours as he spoke softly in his language.

“Gra vek mor-sun, star-drok… vor, grav child”

The next school day started like any other. With the exception of the first plan set up. Start of soft and classic, love notes. Kirishima was the one who studied with cut the most meaning he would be the one to forge his handwriting. Meanwhile, Mina was arguing over his shoulder that it didn’t look explosive enough to match his personality. Believe it or not Bakugo Katsuki had very neat handwriting…. At least when it came to his notes.

Kirishima huffed, shielding the paper with his arm as Mina tried to grab it. “It’s supposed to look like him, not like it’s about to explode off the page!”

“It should explode a little!” Mina whisper-yelled. “He’s dramatic!”

“He’s aggressive,” Kaminari corrected. “Different vibe.”

Sero leaned over from behind them, squinting. “Why does it say ‘idiot’ twice?”

“Because it’s him if I didn't add it in at least twice it would be suspicious,” Kirishima said, like that explained everything.

Across the room, you were sitting at your desk, flipping through your notebook. Bakugo was a row behind you, boots kicked up slightly against the leg of your chair, muttering under his breath about something in the lesson.

Mina clapped her hands once, way too loud for a “secret operation.” Aizawa’s eyes flicked up. The entire group froze. They leaned back in immediately, hoping not to draw more attention.

“Okay,” Mina whispered, lowering her voice this time. “Step one: anonymous love note! We plant it in her bag, something subtle, something that screams ‘Bakugo is secretly in love with you but too emotionally constipated to say it.’”

“Emotionally constipated?” Kaminari snorted.

“You know I’m right.”

Kirishima quickly scribbled the final line, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

Don’t be late tomorrow. I’ll be waiting. -B.K

He paused.

“…does that sound like him?”

Sero shrugged. “Sounds kinda threatening.”

“Perfect!” Mina said.

The note was successfully planted! You hadn't noticed a thing! But the execution? Immediate failure.

You found it after class, tucked neatly between your books. You blinked at it, pulling it out with a small hum of curiosity. From across the room, half the class was not subtly watching.

You read it.....Paused.

Then casually crumpled it. And tossed it straight into the trash. Mina choked....

Like actually choked. Her hand flew up to her mouth as she watched you crumple the note without a second thought, her entire body jerking forward like she might sprint across the room and personally retrieve it from the trash.

Kaminari grabbed her arm to keep her from lunging across the room. “Abort—abort—what was that??”

“WHY DID SHE THROW IT AWAY?!” Mina whisper-screamed, clutching at her hair. “That was PERFECT! That was emotionally repressed, slightly aggressive, very Bakugo-coded—what went wrong?!”

Sero leaned forward, squinting toward the trash can like he could still salvage the situation through sheer willpower. “Did she even read the whole thing?? Maybe she thought it was spam.”

“Who gets love note spam?!” Mina shot back.

“She didn’t even hesitate,” Uraraka added softly, brows furrowed in concern. “She just… threw it away like it didn’t matter.”

Todoroki crossed his arms, watching you carefully. “Perhaps she has already accepted that her feelings are not reciprocated.”

Mina gasped like she’d been personally attacked. “That’s even worse!”

Meanwhile....

You slung your bag over your shoulder, completely unaware of the silent crisis unfolding behind you. Your gaze flicked toward the back of the room, automatically finding him. Bakugo was already standing, stretching slightly, his usual scowl firmly in place as he shoved his notebook into his bag with unnecessary force.

“You ready?” you asked, stepping up beside him like it was second nature.

He glanced at you quick, and sharp before scoffing. “‘Bout time.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder lightly against his arm. “You’re the one who takes forever.”

“The hell I do—” he snapped back immediately, falling into step beside you without even thinking about it.

“You literally take longer than Kaminari to pack up.”

“That’s because I don’t throw my shit in like an idiot—”

“I’ve always been organized, you just don’t pay attention—”

“I pay attention plenty, thank you.”

“Yeah? Then try using your eyes next time—”

Despite the bickering, neither of you slowed down. Didn’t hesitate, didn’t even question walking out together. Your steps matched easily, naturally like it had happened a hundred times before.

Like it would happen a hundred times again. And as you reached the door, Bakugo pushed it open first, holding it just long enough for you to walk through. He didn’t look at you when he did it.

Didn’t say anything.

But he didn’t let it swing shut behind you either. From across the room, the class watched in stunned silence, Mina’s eye twitched.

“…I’m losing my mind,” she muttered.

Kaminari leaned forward slowly, gripping the edge of his desk. “No—no, because did you see that? Did you see that?? That was a moment.”

“That was a routine,” Todoroki corrected.

“That’s WORSE!” Mina snapped, whipping around to face them. “Do you know how long it takes to get to routine?! That’s, like, post-confession behavior!”

Uraraka pressed her hands to her cheeks. “He held the door for her…”

“He doesn’t hold doors for anyone,” Sero added.

“He yells at people who walk too slow through doors,” Kaminari said.

A collective pause as they all replayed the interaction in their heads.

“…their dynamic suggests a pre-existing level of emotional intimacy.”

Mina slowly turned to him.

“…say that again, but like you’re not writing a research paper.”

“They act like they are already together.”

Silence.....Mina slammed her hands on the desk.

“THEN WHY ARE THEY NOT TOGETHER?!”

Mina did not sleep that night. Because the next afternoon, she burst into the common room with the kind of energy that meant someone was about to be dragged into something they did not consent to.

“I’ve got it.”

Kaminari, halfway through eating chips, froze. “…that’s never a good tone.”

“This one is foolproof,” Mina continued, pacing like she was unveiling a master strategy. “We’ve been too subtle. Too indirect. What they need is—”

She spun dramatically.

“—forced proximity.”

Sero blinked. “We’ve… already done that.”

“Not like this,” Mina said, holding up a finger. “This time, there is no escape, no distractions, no interruptions.”

Kirishima leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay, that sounds kinda manly, what’s the plan?” Mina grinned.

“Lock them in.” her grin had said it all with no further words. It took disturbingly little effort.

You had been asked very sweetly, very innocently by Yaoyorozu to help grab some supplies from one of the unused storage rooms near the training grounds. Which wasn’t unusual.

What was unusual… was the second request.

“Bakugo,” Yaoyorozu called, perfectly composed. “Would you assist as well? Some of the equipment is rather heavy.”

He clicked his tongue. “Tch. Should’ve asked me first instead of extras.”

But he still came. Of course he did, you were already halfway down the hall when he caught up, hands shoved in his pockets.

“They dragging you into their weird crap too?” he muttered.

You huffed a small laugh. “Probably. But I needed the walk anyway., I was stiff on that couch,”

The two of you reached the storage room, stepping inside without much thought. The space was dim but organized—shelves lined with training gear, mats stacked neatly against the walls, boxes labeled in Yaoyorozu’s precise handwriting.

You moved toward one of the shelves. “She said the support items should be—”

Click. The door shut. Locked.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Bakugo slowly turned his head toward it.

“…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” You stared at the handle, then tried it. It didn’t budge.

“…oh my god,” you muttered, already laughing under your breath.

Behind the door, Mina had both hands over her mouth, barely containing a squeal as she pressed her back against the wall.

Kaminari was crouched beside her, gripping Sero’s sleeve. “IT WORKED. IT ACTUALLY WORKED.”

“Shh!” Sero hissed, trying not to laugh.

Kirishima stood a few feet back, arms crossed but grinning. “This is it. This is the one.”

Bakugo dragged a hand down his face, already irritated. “Those idiots…”

You leaned back against one of the tables, shaking your head. “You think they planned this?”

“Obviously.”

“…yeah, fair.”

Another pause, then you snorted.

“They’re getting worse at being subtle.”

“Tch. They were never subtle.”

Silence settled again, but not the awkward kind.

Just… quiet. Bakugo walked further into the room, scanning the shelves like he might as well do what you came for while you were stuck, you watched him for a second.

The way he moved. The way he always seemed aware of where you were, even when he wasn’t looking directly at you.

“…you’re not even mad,” you pointed out.

He shot you a look over his shoulder. “Why would I be?”

“We’re literally locked in a storage room.”

“And?”

You blinked.

“…and that doesn’t bother you?”

He scoffed, turning back to the shelf. “Been in worse places.”

You laughed softly. “That’s not what I meant.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Just reached up, grabbing one of the boxes with ease before setting it down beside you.

“…you’re here,” he said finally, like it was obvious. “So it’s fine.”

“…you’re so weird,” you murmured.

“Shut up.”

But there was no bite to it. None at all.

“I give them ten minutes,” she whispered. “Ten minutes and one of them confesses.”

Kaminari nodded eagerly. “Yeah—yeah, this is perfect. There’s tension, there’s isolation—this is textbook.”

Sero checked his phone. “It’s been… three minutes.”

“Okay, but those are important minutes.”

Kirishima grinned. “Bakugo’s not great with feelings, but if he’s pushed—”

The door suddenly rattled, everyone froze.

“…uh oh,” Kaminari whispered.

The handle twisted, once, twice and then,a small, controlled explosion blasted the lock clean off. The door swung open. Bakugo stood there, completely unimpressed, smoke curling faintly from his palm.

“You idiots are loud as hell,” he snapped, glaring directly at them.

Mina screamed, reaching her wits end

“YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO ESCAPE—”

“You LOCKED US IN A ROOM,” you cut in from behind him, laughing as you stepped out. “What did you expect?”

Kaminari pointed accusingly. “You were supposed to have a MOMENT!”

“We did have a moment,” you said casually, the entire group leaned in.

“…yeah?” Mina asked, eyes wide waiting to hear about the magical confession you had in there but...you shrugged.

“We grabbed the stuff we needed.”

Silence. Utter.....defeated silence....

Bakugo scoffed, already walking past them. “Bunch of damn weirdos.”

You followed right after him, falling into step beside him like always. Leaving behind a group of completely broken matchmakers.

Mina slowly sank to the floor.

“…I don’t understand,” she whispered.

Todoroki, still calm, still observant, spoke.

“They do not respond to pressure.”

Kaminari dragged a hand down his face. “They don’t respond to anything.”

Kirishima frowned. “…or maybe they just don’t need help?”

Mina looked up at him.

“…no,” she said firmly. “No, no, no—we’re missing something.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“There’s a piece we’re not seeing.”

Morale was low.

Painfully low. Operation Unrequited Love had gone from an exciting mission to something that felt like a personal attack on Mina’s pride. Every plan had failed in ways that didn’t even make sense anymore. It wasn’t just that you and Bakugo weren’t confessing… it was that you weren’t reacting at all. No tension, no fluster, no denial, no push-and-pull. Just the same steady, easy rhythm the two of you always had, like nothing they did could disrupt it.

Which, frankly, was suspicious.

Still, no one had proof. No confession, no label, no dramatic moment. Just… vibes. Kirishima stopped walking so abruptly that Kaminari nearly ran into him.

“…guys,” he said, quieter than usual. The group followed his gaze down the dorm hallway.

Bakugo was ahead of them, walking back from outside. That wasn’t strange. What was strange was what he was holding. A bouquet. Not messy, not stolen, not accidental. A bouquet.

And in his other hand, a small bag, neatly wrapped, the kind of thing you got from an actual store, not something thrown together last minute. For a second, no one spoke.

Then Mina inhaled sharply, her entire body going rigid. “No.”

Kaminari grabbed Sero’s arm like he needed physical support. “No, no, no—there’s no way—he—he got a girlfriend?? Is that why--”

Uraraka’s face fell, hands flying to her mouth. “We were too late…”

Todoroki’s eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful even now. “This would explain his lack of responsiveness to our efforts.”

“OUR EFFORTS?!” Mina whipped around, voice breaking. “WE DID EVERYTHING!”

But the damage was done. The image was burned into their minds—Bakugo, with flowers, with a gift, clearly going somewhere, clearly for someone.

And none of them believed, not for a second, that it was for you.

Because if it had been… then everything would’ve made sense.

Which meant it couldn’t be.

“…we have to tell her,” Uraraka said softly, her voice filled with genuine sympathy. “She deserves to hear it from us.”

Mina clenched her fists, jaw tight, eyes stinging with frustration and something a little too close to guilt.

“…yeah,” she muttered. “We do.”

The walk to your dorm felt longer than it should have. No one spoke, no one joked. There was no plan this time, no strategy, no attempt to orchestrate anything. There was only the shared understanding that whatever came next was going to hurt, and there was nothing they could do to soften it. Mina reached your door first. Her hand hovered for a moment before knocking, her usual confidence nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” she called, forcing her voice to sound normal. “Can we come in?”

There was no response.

Kaminari shifted behind her, uneasy. “Maybe she’s not—”

Mina did not wait.

She pushed the door open.

“Hey, we just—” The words stopped.

Everything stopped.

The room was quiet in a way that felt… full, not empty. The soft glow of your lamp cast warm light across the space, illuminating the familiar details of your room, the scattered belongings, the small things that made it yours. It should have felt normal.

It didn’t.

Because on your bed....

Bakugo Katsuki was there. Not sitting. Not standing.

Not arguing, not scowling, not throwing insults like he always did when anyone got too close. He was asleep.

Curled into you.

His body was pressed fully against yours, his back flush with your chest, one of your arms wrapped securely around his waist while the other rested higher, your fingers moving slowly through his hair in a way that was absentminded, practiced, intimate.

There was no tension in him, no sign of the usual sharp edges that defined him.

And you.........you looked like this was normal. Like this was not something worth questioning. Like this was not something that would completely dismantle everything they thought they understood. Your eyes lifted when you noticed them, your expression shifting only slightly in mild surprise, as if you had simply been interrupted in the middle of something routine.

“…hey,” you said softly.

No one answered, because no one could. Kaminari’s brain seemed to short-circuit entirely, his mouth opening and closing without producing any sound. Sero looked like he was physically restraining himself from grabbing the nearest object just to ground himself in reality. Uraraka’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her eyes wide, unblinking.

“…what.....is....going on here.....” she said finally, the word coming out slow, disbelieving, like she needed to hear it out loud to confirm that this was actually happening.

You frowned slightly, glancing down as Bakugo shifted at the sound of voices, his grip tightening instinctively around your arm as he buried his face further into your shoulder.

“…‘s loud,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep, his tone carrying none of its usual bite. The effect was immediate.

Then Todoroki stepped forward. Not quickly, not dramatically, but with a deliberate stillness that drew everyone’s attention whether they wanted it or not. His gaze did not waver from the sight in front of him, from the way Bakugo was curled into you like it was instinct, like it was habit, like it was home. When he spoke, his voice was calm. The kind of calm that did not belong in a moment like this.

“You are in a relationship with him.” It was not a question, it was not even an assumption.

It was a conclusion delivered with quiet certainty, like the final line of an equation that had already been solved long before the rest of them had caught up, the room shifted.

The weight of it settled. Because if Todoroki had said it like that… then it wasn’t just a possibility.

It was truth. You blinked at him, then at the others, your brows knitting together slightly as you took in their expressions—shock, confusion, something bordering on betrayal.

“…yeah,” you said slowly, like you were the one trying to understand what exactly was so surprising about this. “We are.”

Kaminari made a strangled sound, like his brain had finally caught up but didn’t know what to do with the information. “N—no, wait,” he stammered, shaking his head like he could physically undo what he had just heard. “No, that doesn’t—since when? Since when?!”

You hesitated, glancing down at Bakugo for a moment as if grounding yourself in something familiar before answering. “…a few months, I think?”

That was the moment everything broke.

“MONTHS?!” Mina’s voice tore through the room, sharp and disbelieving, her composure finally shattering as she stepped forward like she might physically fight the concept itself. “MONTHS?! We have been planning, plotting, suffering! SUFFERING!! FOR MONTHS!”

Her hands came up, gesturing wildly as if the air itself could validate her outrage. “Do you have any idea how many plans we went through?! The notes, the setups, the emotional manipulation—”

“The LOCKED ROOM,” Kaminari added, his voice pitching higher with every word, like he was unraveling in real time.

You stared at them.

“…that was all you?” you asked, the realization dawning slowly, incredulously, like you were replaying every strange interaction in your head all at once.

Sero let out a hollow laugh. “You thought the candles were just… there?”

“I thought Mina was being Mina,” you said weakly.

“I was being Mina!” she shot back. “Strategically!”

Bakugo shifted.

Not fully awake, not fully aware, but aware enough.

His eyes cracked open, irritation bleeding in almost instantly as his gaze dragged across the room, landing on the group crowding your doorway, the noise, the chaos, the sheer audacity of their presence.

“…the hell is wrong with you people,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep but still carrying that familiar edge.

Mina turned on him so fast it was almost violent.

“YOU,” she pointed, her voice trembling with frustration. “YOU ARE WHAT’S WRONG WITH US! YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND THIS ENTIRE TIME AND YOU JUST—WHAT?! DECIDED TO KEEP IT A SECRET?!”

Bakugo’s expression didn’t change.

If anything, he looked more annoyed.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue, shifting just enough to press further back into you, like the movement was instinctive, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. “Why the hell would I tell a bunch of nosy extras anything.”

“BECAUSE WE THOUGHT SHE WAS PINING FOR YOU IN SILENCE!” Mina snapped, her voice cracking under the weight of it.

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand still resting in Bakugo’s hair, fingers absentmindedly threading through the strands like this entire situation hadn’t just detonated around you. “Pining? He practically lives in here.”

The way you moved around each other like it wasn’t new, like it wasn’t uncertain. It had never been unrequited, it had never been one-sided. It had never been anything they thought it was.

Mina took a step back. Then her knees gave out entirely as she sank to the floor with a groan, staring at nothing, her entire worldview crumbling in real time.

“…we wasted everything,” she whispered, her voice hollow, defeated.

You looked at them, then down at Bakugo, who had already settled again, eyes half-lidded, completely unbothered by the chaos he had just caused simply by existing.

“…I thought you guys knew,” you admitted quietly.

Bakugo huffed softly, his hand reaching back without looking, finding yours easily, fingers lacing together like it was second nature, like it had always been.