#lil something

“i doubt that, princess,” he says but he’s easy, opening his mouth to taste the dessert from your spoon.

you both are out together on your days off, standing outside an ice cream shop you thought to try on a whim. these are your favourite days with him. no real responsibilities, his amex card is free reign and all your boyfriend’s attention is on you. so much so, he doesn’t realise things around him such as these two girls and a guy chatting shit.

“eh, i’ll give it to you. i like my mango one more though,” bakugou says, using his spoon to take another swipe off yours.

he’s got somewhat of a disguise on today, not wanting to create crowds and an impromptu selfie taking, tshirt signing fiasco. his cap secured, black hoodie and jeans on but now his mask is pulled down to eat ice cream.

“oh shit that’s dynamight. i hate that guy, he’s always so rude for no reason.”

“yeah, if he came to save me i’d ask for an exchange. maybe chargebolt or red riot.”

you only catch the beginning of bakugou’s sentence before you abruptly spin around to the trio of people behind you.

you hear bakugou’s little, “hey baby, lemme try more,” his arm stretching to get your ice cream, until he realises you’re standing frowning at these people.

“do you really think we couldn’t hear you? would you like to repeat yourself to our faces or fuck off?” you press, stepping forward once and immediately the three duck their heads down in shame. there’s odd mumbling that you can’t make out before they scatter like mice away from you.

you huff aloud spinning back to your boyfriend who just stands eating his mango sorbet innocently.

“the fuck was that about?” then he swipes his spoon at your ice cream.

“nothing. they were just saying shit,” you say.

“about you? or me?”

“about you.” you whisper because even though he swears comments don’t bother him, you’d never tell him bad ones to his face. you look up into his ruby eyes, that are surprisingly curved in a smile with cheeks high on his face. he pulls his spoon from his mouth and kisses your forehead with a loud smack.

the world thinks he’s this big mean angry guy, when to you he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever known. (you can also take into consideration he’s only really like this with you but it still counts.)

“you’re fightin’ my battles for me, hah? stickin’ up for lil old me?” he chuckles though his heart is swelling ten fold in his chest. only you would think he needs protecting from stupid gossip, like nothing bad should even exist about him in the world. you’re in a little bubble with him and he hopes to keep you there.

you roll your eyes at his tone, “i didn’t fight anybody. i couldn’t have them talk shit while i was right there with you.”

a large arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you begin to walk together.

bakugou’s still grinning, he doesn’t think it will ever fall. “fuckin’ adorable.” is all he mumbles.

He limped into our house at exactly 2:54 in the morning, bloody, bruised, and half dead. And it served him right, stupid idiot.

I leapt from my seat as soon as the door closed behind him, slinging his arm over my shoulder. He collapsed into me.

“M fine. Lemme go-“ he tried to push away, so I let him. He took a step before leaning on the wall, eyes closing and head resting against the cool drywall.

“No you aren’t-let me help you.” I moved as if to guide him to the bathroom.

“I’m fine, Curtis. Leave me alone.”

“Dal-“

“I said leave me alone!” His voice was sharp now, and I stopped arguing.

I did follow nervously behind him as he made his way down the hall and into the bathroom. He leaned on the wall as I walked in and shut the door behind us.

I stood and watched as he opened the medicine cabinet with shaky hands. His fingers fumbled with the top of the pain medicine before I stepped forward and gently pried it open. He took some, paying no mind to the dosage.

He took out the alcohol and bandages, and I wondered if it was Socs or Tim. Tim didn’t usually pull blades.

I stepped forward, fingers reaching towards the supplies and he let me. I didn’t know if it was because he had given in or because he knew I would fight him for it.

He winced as I dragged the alcohol soaked cotton across his wounds. He looked dizzy, and moved as if a rib or two was broken.