#ghostlyclouds4bakugo

"Bakugo, I swear, not again..." you had said a few minutes ago, almost in a whisper, as you pushed away the cold plate you had prepared hours ago. The dinner was still there, untouched. The table set. Candles unlit. →⁠_⁠→ Part 2

He sighed, frustrated, and ran a hand through his messy blond hair. He made a small gesture of defeat, barely noticeable, almost like a nervous tic.

"You forgot again," you said without looking directly at him, your voice soft but firm, like a well-sharpened knife.

Bakugo closed his eyes for a second, swallowing hard. His jaw clenched.

"I didn't forget. I got held up." His voice was deep, a little hoarse from yelling orders during an operation. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, still buzzing with mission alerts, reports, and messages from heroes in the field. He tossed it on the table.

"You missed dinner, Katsuki. Our dinner. You said tonight would be different. You said you'd try."

"I am trying! Damn it!" Bakugo's voice rose without meaning to. He took a step toward you but froze when he saw the way your brows furrowed, hurt, though you were trying not to show it.

Silence fell for a few seconds.

"I'm not out there slacking off. The city needs me. My job needs me!" he said through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

You stood up slowly, crossing your arms.

"And I don't need you? I don't count?"

"I didn't say that." Bakugo lowered his voice a bit, but it was still heavy with tension.

"Can we have a date later, okay?" he added, a desperate attempt to smooth things over.

"When?" you asked, not sarcastically, just with a painful sincerity.

He went still. For a second he looked like he was choking on the words. He furrowed his brows, doing mental math: patrols, training, a committee meeting, rotating night shifts...

"I don't know. I have to check… but we will, okay?"

You let out a humorless laugh, bitter enough to make his jaw tighten further.

"So now I gotta schedule a date with your secretary?"

"I didn’t mean it like that!" Bakugo snapped, his face flashing with instant regret—and helplessness.

Your shoulders dropped, like that was the final drop breaking the dam.

"There’s always a thousand things more important than us..."

Bakugo opened his mouth, but didn’t speak right away. His lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at the floor, then at you.

"Yeah... because that’s how it is," he finally let out. His voice wasn’t harsh anymore. It was honest. Raw. Painful.

And then there was silence. He stood in the middle of the room, you in front of him, just a meter apart—and yet, so far away.

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜'𝑠 𝑅𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡: 𝑆ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑀𝑦 𝑊𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑀𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟.

Thank you so much! It’s my first request, so I’m kinda excited haha. I hope it’s exactly what you wanted, feel free to ask for more anytime!

Kaito’s teenage years came fast, and no one was ready for the mess they brought. You looked at him with a mix of worry and sadness, wondering when the sweet boy who used to come to you for everything had turned into a teenager who barely looked at you.

That afternoon, you were pacing around the living room, turning the words over in your head. You had no idea how to bring up what you had found that morning in his room.

When you heard the front door open, your heart skipped a beat. You heard Kaito’s footsteps, and before he could disappear down the hallway, you broke the silence:

“Can you come here for a second, please?”

Kaito let out a long sigh, the one he’d been using lately like armor.

“What do you want now?”

That morning, while cleaning his room —with nothing but the intention of tidying up a bit— what you found under his bed froze you to the core: an almost empty pack of cigarettes, a half-finished bottle of alcohol, several failed exams… and other things you’d rather not name. You shut the box abruptly, hands trembling and your throat dry.

Kaito’s eyes fell on the box the moment he walked in. He didn’t say a word, but he knew exactly what it was. He took a deep breath, and then said:

"Did you seriously go through my stuff?"

“I swear I didn’t mean to invade your space,” you said, trying to find words that wouldn’t set him off. “It’s not about spying on you, Kaito. It’s just… there are things that worry me. That’s all.”

His eyes locked on yours, full of restrained anger.

"Just stay outta my life, okay? I'm not a little kid anymore!"

“I just want you to listen. Just for a moment.”

He got so close his breath brushed your face. And then it started. With every word, a shove. One after another, like he didn’t know how else to get his point across.

“You don’t get it!” Shove.

“You’ll never get what it’s like—carrying his name, his shadow, every damn day!” Shove.

“I didn’t ask for this!” Shove.

“I don’t need you watching my every move like I’m gonna explode or screw everything up!” Shove.

“Just stay out of my room, and out of my life!” Shove.

Bakugo slammed the door open with almost violent force, like some instinct had pushed him to come in without warning. His sharp, alert gaze swept the room, looking for any sign of danger—but what froze him in place was the sight of Kaito’s finger digging into Y/n’s shoulder, shoving her with a rage that couldn’t be ignored.

Bakugo’s expression darkened, and with a low growl, he stepped forward without hesitation. “Kaito, that’s enough!” His voice echoed through the room, firm and commanding, the kind of order you don’t argue with. He closed the distance fast and placed a strong hand on Kaito’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “You don’t treat your mother like that. You hear me?”

Kaito didn’t back down, but his jaw clenched.

“Of course… just what I needed. Now you,” he muttered with scorn, trying to shake him off. He didn’t succeed.

Bakugo lowered his head slightly, face to face with him.

“Don’t. Move,” he said through gritted teeth. “And I’m not done with you. Not after what you just did.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt her,” Kaito muttered, like he needed to convince himself more than anyone else. “I was just… angry.”

Bakugo didn’t let go. His voice dropped low, tense like a threat:

"Listen to me, Kaito: no one, no one lays a hand on my wife! Not even a finger! I don’t care how angry you are, you don’t push your mother, you don’t raise your voice at her, and you sure as hell don’t look at her like that. Got it?"

Kaito closed his eyes. One second. He took a deep breath, like he was trying to swallow his own rage.

“I get it,” he said quietly.

Bakugo didn’t shout this time. He leaned in just slightly, his eyes locked on Kaito’s, voice low but solid as steel.

“No, you don’t. If you got it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle between them.

“You’re angry? Fine. You think life’s unfair? Fine. But that doesn’t give you the right to hurt the people who love you. You don’t lash out at your mother. Ever. You hear me?”

His voice softened just enough, but the edge never left.

“You wanna be a man? Then start acting like one. Own your anger. Control it. Don’t let it control you.”

Kaito lowered his gaze, jaw tight.

“…Okay.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed as he stared Kaito down. In a low, dangerous tone he leaned in and snapped,

“I didn’t hear you. Louder.”

Before the tension could snap any tighter, you stepped forward and gently pressed your hand against Bakugo’s arm. Your voice was soft but firm:

“That’s enough. It’s okay, love.”

Bakugo clenched his jaw, but listened. He let go of his son’s shoulder, though his voice remained firm:

“Apologize to your mother. Now.”

Kaito blinked, his expression shifting in an instant, as if a bucket of cold water had just hit him.

“I… I’m really sorry, Mom,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean… I don’t know what I was thinking. I messed up. I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you, Kaito,” you said gently, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “I’m not angry. Just… scared. I need you to understand that you’re not alone, that I’m here to—”

“I know,” he cut in, barely above a whisper, eyes still avoiding yours. “Can I just… go to my room now, please?”

You nodded, though there was a sadness you couldn’t quite hide in your voice.

Bakugo was more direct:

“Yeah, go. But don’t forget what we said.”

Once Kaito left, the silence that filled the room was so thick it was hard to breathe. You stood still. Shaken.

And then, without saying a word, Bakugo wrapped you in his arms. Tight. Like he could hold everything together just by holding you. His warmth, the solid feel of his body, the steadiness in his breathing that was all that kept you grounded.

“It’s okay,” he murmured into your hair. “Kaito’s not a bad kid. He’s just lost. We’re gonna help him. You’re not alone in this. I swear.”

And in that embrace, everything broke. The tears started falling, one after another. Because even though the road ahead was long and hard, in that moment, one thing was crystal clear:

Even if the world fell apart, Bakugo was going to be there.

Holding you.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᴮᵃᵏᵘᵍᵒ'ᵈ ᵃᶜᵗ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗ·

Bakugo isn’t the type of boyfriend who chases after you right after a fight. He’s not one to apologize immediately or keep sending messages non-stop. He’s like a contained fire, wrapped up in his own pride, and when a fight breaks out, his first move is to pull away.

So, he locks himself in the gym, as usual. He punches the bag with all his anger, lifts weights like he’s trying to crush the frustration building up inside him. He runs, jumps, trains, trains, and trains until his muscles are screaming. For those first few hours, he manages to shut down the voice in his head that keeps calling your name. But that peace? It doesn’t last. It never does.

By the time it’s around 7:00 p.m. and the sky’s painted with a red hue, guilt hits him. He remembers everything he said, how he said it, and the way you looked when it all ended. “Damn it…” he mutters to himself, clenching his fists. He wonders if he went too far. If he really had to say all that. He realizes it might’ve been a stupid thing to do.

Before he can think it through, he’s already heading out to find you. It wasn’t planned. He’s not overthinking it. He just moves, almost like his feet know the way better than his mind.

And that’s when he stops thinking so much and listens to his heart instead.

When he finally sees you, he doesn’t rush. He walks over with purpose, that usual scowl on his face—the one you’ve learned to read. He’s not mad. He’s just tense. He reaches out and grabs your wrist—not roughly, but firm enough to stop you from pulling away before he can speak.

“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice rougher than usual, but softer than you'd expect. It’s forced, like he’s not used to being gentle, but for you, he’s willing to try.

Then he looks you in the eyes. You’re probably still pissed, but when it comes to you, he’s ready to own up to his mistakes.

Only with you.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

★彡[Note] Masterlist ★

1. He misses you a little more when he comes back tired from training, his body aching and his mind overloaded, and you're not there to complain about how much effort he puts in or to press your warm hands on his shoulders, giving him those clumsy but loving massages that only you knew how to give.

2. He misses you a little more when he cooks more than he needs without realizing it, like he automatically sets two plates, even though you're not there to share it. He moves around the kitchen, his hands quick and steady, chopping, seasoning, like you should be there to judge the taste, to make a joke about how spicy it is, or to sneak bites when he's distracted.

3. He misses you a little more when everyone acts like he's angry all the time. No one dares to joke with him, to make him laugh, to challenge that tough exterior. No one… except you. And in those moments, your absence weighs on him more than anything else.

4. He misses you a little more when he sees something he knows you would like: a silly t-shirt in a store, a new dessert at a café, or a ridiculous little figure that you’d totally want to put in his place “to make it more cheerful”—as you’d say. He wants to grab your hand and take you there… but his hand just fills with air.

5. He misses you a little more when you show up in his dreams. It’s dark, and he doesn’t know if he's dreaming or waking up. But somehow, in the fog of his mind, he finds you. For a few seconds, he stays still, trying to remember how he felt in that dream, but the feeling slips through his fingers, and all that’s left is the melancholy of a “I saw you” that no longer exists.

6. He misses you a little more when his bed feels bigger and emptier than usual. When he tosses and turns and there are no legs tangled in his, no sleepy laughs, no voice whispering his name like it’s something sacred, even in dreams.

7. He misses you a little more when his phone lights up, and the screen shows a notification: the next song is about to play. It’s one of the songs you always played, and immediately his heart starts racing. He knew his playlist would eventually mix with yours. He didn’t think it’d hit this hard. The sound of weights and motivational shouts surround him, but it’s just background noise, not enough to cut through the fog in his mind.

8. He misses you a little more when he sees his friends getting messages or calls, smiling as they reply. He, on the other hand, checks his phone more times than he'd admit, hoping to see your name lighting up the screen, like a spark that gives him a little peace.

Could you maybe do a small bakugou fic or headcanon where the reader found out something and they’ve been sad all day? maybe they don’t want to bother bakugo and they don’t say anything (if he’s there) or they don’t call/text (if readers at their own place idk.

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense but i’m really just looking for some comforting words right now :( Sorry if i’m didn’t explain enough either.

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐴𝑟𝑚𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔

𓂃 ࣪˖ for you, i hope these words feel like a soft place to land. you don’t have to explain a thing. just breathe. just rest. take all the time you need. i’m proud of you for making it through the day!

You didn’t text him all day.

And still, he’s here.

He didn’t ask if he could come. Didn’t ask for an explanation. Just knocked on the door, and when you opened it, he stood there in silence. Watching you.

His eyes dropped to your hands, your posture. The way you were pretending to be fine without even really trying.

"Hey," he says finally, voice a little rough, like he’s about to say something important. "I’m not here to bug you."

He pauses.

"Just... figured maybe you wanted someone to stick around."

Bakugo sets the bag on the table. The one that held your favorite snack, and a drink he hates but you always get.

"Come here."

There was no judgment in his tone. No rush. Just space.

The kind of space that doesn’t demand you be okay.

The kind of hug that doesn’t expect you to smile.

Bakugo held you close to his chest and didn’t say anything at first. Let the silence do its thing. Let your body slowly relax. Let your breathing fall into rhythm with his.

And when he felt you needed it, that’s when he finally spoke, with that raspy voice he only ever used with you:

"You don’t gotta say anything. It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk. I’m here, alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere."

His fingers moved gently along your back, no rush.

"You can stay like this for as long as you need. You don’t gotta be strong right now. You don’t gotta do a damn thing."

And then, even softer, almost like he was speaking straight to your heart:

"You’re not alone. Not when you’ve got me."

This shit is embarrassing to ask

𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝐼𝑠 𝐿𝑜𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝐷𝑢𝑠𝑘

part two is finally here and yes… we’re being messy. enjoy the heartbreak and the heat thank u sm for being patient!!

also yes... there will be a part three bc clearly we’re too deep in now, open to ideas if u got more

→⁠_⁠→ Part 1

The U.A. parking lot was nearly empty at that hour. The sun had started to set a while ago, some teachers had already left. Even the latest students were gone. Only you remained… and the echo of a promise that never came.

You did it again, as if that would change anything.

Calling: Katsuki

"The voicemail box of the number you dialed is..."

You hung up.

You took a deep breath and opened the messaging app again.

You [6:37 PM]: Katsuki, are you on your way? I left a while ago.

You [7:02 PM]: Are you okay? Just tell me if you’re not coming, please.

You [7:45 PM]: Katsuki, I’m freezing out here. This wasn’t part of the plan...

You [8:09 PM]: Don’t do this to me. Not today. I asked you.

You closed your eyes. And then, the memory hit you.

That night, just a week ago, when you were lying on your side and he got into bed later than usual. You thought he was asleep, but he wrapped an arm around your waist and mumbled against your neck:

"I know I’m not perfect... but if I lost you over this, I wouldn’t forgive myself."

"Then do something about it."

"I will. I swear, Y/n. This time, I will."

The first tear fell before you even noticed. Then another. And another. Until your hands were covering your face, your shoulders started shaking, and the only sound breaking the silence was your ragged breathing and the soft patter of your tears against the pavement.And then…

Headlights lit up in the distance.

The sound of a familiar engine.A figure behind the wheel.A car pulled up right in front of you.

"Y/n..." The voice was soft, almost afraid, like he might break you just by saying your name.You turned slowly, eyes puffy, hands still trembling in your lap. It wasn’t Bakugo.Izuku leaned in without invading your space, brows furrowed in worry, his hands suspended mid-air, like he didn’t know the right place to touch.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone."He didn’t ask anything else. Didn’t wait for answers. He just gently opened the passenger door.

"Let me take you home, yeah?"

"I don’t wanna go home." Your voice was barely a whisper—broken but firm.

Izuku looked at you for a second that felt endless. Then he nodded, once, without arguing. He shut the door softly once you got in and walked silently to his seat.

There were no more words as the car started moving.

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped at a high lookout point, where the city looked like it slept under a veil of distant lights, and the beach stretched quietly, like a reflection of your tired chest.Neither of you spoke.

You let your head rest against the window, watching the waves crash in the dark. You weren’t crying anymore. Maybe because there were no tears left, or maybe because Izuku hadn’t asked anything.

He just stared straight ahead, fingers laced on the wheel, like he was waiting… for something. The moment, the right words, a way not to make it worse.

But he said nothing.And for a while, that was enough.Your back was still pressed against the rear seat when Izuku pulled away just a bit, panting, his curls falling over his sweaty forehead. His hands were braced on either side of your head, and his eyes—green, shiny, blown wide with want—searched yours with silent urgency.

"Can I?" he whispered, voice low and tight with restraint.

Your blouse, half unbuttoned, was wrinkled at your sides; your skirt was barely lifted, leaving your legs exposed and shaking. He hadn’t had the patience to take his shirt off, but his firm fingers slid shamelessly down your chest and ribs with torturous slowness, leaving a trail of heat on every inch they touched.You didn’t need words. You just lifted a hand and brought it to his cheek, brushing your fingers along it before nodding. And that was all it took.

The leather creaked beneath the weight of his movements. Your fingers tangled in his half-unbuttoned shirt, dragging it down his shoulders, needing to feel more skin. The heat between you was unbearable, delicious, brutal.

"Don’t look at your phone," he muttered suddenly, his voice hoarse, like the sound had pulled him out of a trance.And then you heard it: the familiar buzz.

Your phone. Vibrating on the passenger seat.

Katsuki

You saw it out of the corner of your eye. Felt the tug in your chest. The lump in your throat. A sharp sting of guilt…

But Izuku dipped his head immediately. His hot breath hit your ear.

"Stay with me."

And with those words, his movements grew more rhythmic, deeper, rougher. Like he couldn’t stand the idea of your mind drifting to someone else, like he needed every inch of you to respond to him. He lifted you with both hands, one under your back and the other at your hips, making the friction perfect—almost cruel.

"Deku..." you whispered his nickname through gritted teeth, and it lit something in him.

And he didn’t stop.

Not when your legs tightened around his waist.

Not when your nails dug into his back.

Not when your lips released a plea.

The climax came like a controlled wildfire: Your bodies shook in sync, overwhelmed, soaked, wrecked from holding on. Izuku barely managed to hold himself up on his elbows, his forehead still pressed to yours, his breath uneven against your mouth.

Only the ocean down below.

Only the whisper of the wind.

Only the faint comfort of not being alone.

3 messages from Katsuki.

No tenderness. No apologies. Just him, being him.

[Katsuki]: Had to go to Kamino. Level 3, it was urgent.

[Katsuki]: If you’re still awake, go to sleep.

[Katsuki]: Don’t want drama or bullshit when I get there. Got it.

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐸𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠

thank you for your first request this one’s for you some angst, some fluff, and a whole lot of bakugo care. hope it’s what you were hoping for!! 🕸️ ghostly tag guide

The new suit fit like a glove. Lighter than the previous one, but reinforced at the joints, with flexible plates that followed the line of your arms and thighs without hindering movement.

You observed your reflection with a mix of pride and anxiety. The thermal regulation still wasn't fully calibrated, but the technicians said it would hold up for basic testing.

And just as you were about to ask another question, the floor trembled beneath your feet.

A sharp crash, like metal being torn from its foundations, echoed from the upper floor.

Red. Flashing light. Voices rising.

"Intrusion code on Upper Level. Personnel, evacuate immediately," a mechanical voice rang out from the speakers.

The technicians dropped their tablets and clipboards. Some ran. Others hesitated. One tripped over a box of components trying to reach the exit. Panic hadn’t completely taken over yet, but it was building.

You reacted instantly.

Zipped your suit all the way up. Adjusted your gloves. Left the testing room without looking back.

In the hallway, some students were already guiding civilians. You recognized Iida giving directions and Yaoyorozu creating improvised barriers with polymer plates.

And then you saw him: Bakugo.

His back to you, steps steady, jaw tight, walking in the opposite direction of the evacuation flow. Heading straight for the noise.

"Bakugo!" you shouted, quickening your pace to catch up. "We need to help evacuate! Civilians first!"

He didn’t even look back. Just answered with a grunt:

"Let the others handle that. I’m gonna blow the bastard who dared to break in to pieces."

"Katsuki!" you raised your voice, angry, but he was already picking up speed.

There was no other choice. You growled under your breath and followed, your quirk beginning to hum subtly under your skin, ready to activate.

The plan was to go up, use the elevator in the tech wing... but when the doors opened, it wasn’t civilians who stepped out.

A tall figure, covered in what looked like a torn suit but reinforced at key points, looked at you from inside the elevator with a twisted smile. His eyes had glowing implants, and his voice had a metallic echo.

"Well, well... the explosive brat and the damn gem. Ain’t I lucky."

Bakugo stepped forward without hesitation.

"Tch. Damn scrap metal freak."

Everything moved fast.

Bakugo faced him head-on, moving like lightning, his explosions rattling the hallway. You supported from the side, activating your quirk to weaken the electromagnetic field on his weapons, forcing him to back off every time he tried to propel himself.

But the air was heavy. The smoke from the explosions, the friction of your still-uncalibrated suit, the rhythm of your movements… everything started to feel slow.

Your muscles burned. Your lips were dry. Sweat ran down your neck like you were trapped in a sauna.

You didn’t stop.

Even when the edges of your vision started to go dark. Even when you could no longer hear clearly. Even when your head pounded like your skull was going to split open.

"NOW, DO IT!" Bakugo shouted, launching a direct blast at the villain you’d left with no escape.

You moved your hands with effort. Your quirk activated one last time, creating a breach in the enemy’s protective field. Bakugo’s final hit sent him flying into the wall with a sickening crunch.

Victory. You’d done it.

And then… you swayed.

"Hah?"

That was the last thing you heard from Bakugo before everything shut down.

Your body collapsed sideways, like a rag doll. The suit’s sensors flashed red for a second before going dark. The hallway spun one last time in your vision, and then everything went black.

"Oi! OI!! Don’t fuckin’ do this!!" Bakugo yelled, running to you.

He dropped to his knees clumsily, pulling your shoulders against his chest. His glove touched your cheek, and the heat made him frown. Your lips were cracked. Your breathing, shallow.

"You’re burnin’ up... goddamn it..." his voice was low, almost hoarse. With rage. Or maybe fear.

Bakugo hadn’t moved.

He’d been sitting in that straight-backed chair for hours, not straying from the bed for a second. He’d taken off his gloves, rested his elbows on his knees, and kept his eyes locked on your fingers. Watching every tiny movement. Every tremble. Every breath.

And then the door opened without warning.

Bakugo didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Aizawa.

His eyes were lowered, shoulders a bit tense, hair looser than usual. He closed the door behind him without a word. Walked to the other side of the bed.

And then, his voice:

“What were you thinking?”

Bakugo didn’t answer right away. He just leaned back, exhaling like he’d known that was coming.

"I had it under control," he muttered finally, without looking at him.

Aizawa crossed his arms.

"And that’s why you, the first one to break protocol when it suits you, decided to drag someone with an incomplete suit into a fight."

"That’s not what happened!" Bakugo snapped, rising slightly from his seat.

“And you don't decide when to break the protocols, it's that me!”

Silence. And just when it seemed like it wouldn’t end...

A soft whisper. Barely audible.

"...It wasn’t his fault." Your voice, hoarse, broken, just a murmur.

But your voice... though weak, was firm.

"Bakugo… didn’t force me. It was me."

"We’ll talk later," Aizawa said at last, taking a step toward the door.“About what was done right, and what wasn’t. And why there are always consequences when people act without thinking.”

But before he left, he paused.

He turned his head just slightly over his shoulder.

“Thank you. Both of you. For keeping everyone safe.”

It was blunt. Like someone who didn’t know how to soften the tone. But the message was clear.

He was proud. And scared. But more than anything, relieved.

You turned your face a little, with effort, and noticed Bakugo was still looking at you just like before.

"Don’t go."

He scoffed. Quietly.

"Where the hell else would I go?"

You wanted to say something more, but the words didn’t come. You just moved your hand.

He hesitated. Just for a second.

And then, he took your hand.

Lifted you easily into his arms, and without looking back, took off running.

realizing ur in love with ur childhood bsf bakugou.. and then panicking even more when u realize he likes u back cus what if everything gets all weird

if ud like, i think a little angst would go well too but THANKU AS ALWAYS

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑊𝑎𝑠, 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑠 𝑀𝑦 𝐵𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑.

anon, tysm for waiting and for sending this req, fr. sorry it took a bit i was lowkey struggling to hit the right vibe, but i think i finally got it down. biggest inspo for this piece was my boy only breaks his favorite toys (first draft) by taylor swift. if you know it or take a sec to listen, you’ll get exactly where my brain (and heart lol) was at while writing. hope u like it!!

The sound of running water told you he was in the shower. You didn’t care. He didn’t care.

You were about to throw yourself onto the bed, probably to wait for him half-asleep or snoop through his shelf of records, when you saw it.

A notebook.

Opened right in the middle.

Almost begging you to read it.

You hesitated.

You shouldn’t.

That cramped handwriting, with the lines disobeying the margin, like writing was also a fight for him.

The first line was brutal.

I hate you.

I hate you because I shouldn't care this much.

I hate you because you make me want to stay still, to listen to you, to look at you.

I hate you because you make me want things I don’t even dare to name.

I hate you because you're always there. Because you know me.

Because you know when to shut me up, when to provoke me, and when to stay silent.

And even then, you don’t see all of this that’s killing me inside.

I hate myself more for not saying it.

For writing this like a coward, because I’m scared to look you in the eye and lose you.

The notebook trembled in your hands. You didn’t know if you should drop it or keep reading. You didn’t know if you should cry or laugh or run. He was right there, just a few steps away, on the other side of the bathroom door, unaware that you had come in. Unaware that you had just seen his heart written in black ink.

Bakugo didn’t say things like that. He didn’t. He pushed, growled, locked himself up like a damn stone fortress. And yet there it was. That letter—that emotional purge—was the most honest thing you’d ever seen in your life.

And the water in the shower stopped running.

You left so fast you almost twisted your ankle. You closed the door without a sound, holding your breath like that could erase what you’d just read.

You leaned your back against the hallway wall, your heart pounding hard. It wasn’t fear that Bakugo would catch you. It wasn’t adrenaline.

It was the letter.

It was him.

Because…

Because you were in love with him too.

Because you had spent years convincing your heart it was one-sided, that Bakugo would never see you that way.

That if he had ever looked at you a moment too long, if his gaze had ever drifted to your hands or to the mole on your neck, it had been an accident.

But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t.

And the worst part wasn’t that he felt the same.

The worst part…

The worst part was thinking about everything that could go wrong.

What if it was just an impulse?

What if you were both confused, if it was a fantasy born from years of closeness, from the habit of having each other?

What if it ruined everything?

Because losing him as a friend…

Losing him completely…

That would hurt more than never being loved back.

So you’d rather never know.

You’d rather keep pretending.

You’d rather keep loving him in silence, than risk turning it all into just another memory.

Because if you lose him…

You lose yourself too.