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To anyone else this might not be weird, considering that it’s currently the dead of winter in Japan and he doesn’t hear the usual hum of the heater on. You’re in his arms though, both of you clad in hoodies and sweats under a horde of blankets, but despite that there’s a weird chill going down his spine, a feeling he usually gets when he’s at patrolling or on a mission and there’s something wrong about to happen. It’s a small noise, but it’s there: a shifting of one’s weight against the old floorboards.

Reasonably, Bakugou knows there isn’t anybody inside. All the windows are locked, the front door is locked, there’s no one aside from you and him (…and the stray cat you took a few months ago). Katsuki carefully untangles himself from you and covers you back with the fleece blanket before he quietly pads through your shared apartment to find whatever it is giving him that weird chill, or better yet find the noise. Each room is empty, as he expects but for some reason that doesn’t appease him. Bakugou sighs, massaging his neck while he tries to figure out what this gnawing anxiety in his belly means when he turns around and nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Fuck! You- fuck you!” His hand lands on his chest hoping to calm his pounding heart. Katsuki takes in a deep breath and scowls, “What the fuck are you doing? I could’ve blasted you!”

You raise an eyebrow, “What am I doing? What are you doing? You’re creeping around like a weirdo! How is it that you’re the up-and-coming number five hero and I can sneak up on you?” You walk towards him and flick his nose.

“Shut up.” He crinkles his nose and pulls you in, pressing a kiss against your hair. “It’s nothing. I thought I heard something.”

“Mhm,” you hum noncommittally. “We have a cat, she was probably fucking around somewhere.”

“Talon is sleeping on the couch she wasn’t fucking around,” Katsuki murmurs before he looks around over the crown of your head. “She’s not even fat enough to make the floors creak.”

“It’s an old apartment! Things creak, windows shake, sometimes candles blow out and you hear someone whispering your name.” You laugh when he narrows his eyes, “Come back to bed. It’s cold without you.”

You emphasize this by twisting your foot up and pushing under the hem of his sweatpants,

pressing your cold toes against his skin. With a hiss, he jerks away and rolls his eyes at your giggling, still following you down the hallway back to bed and scolding you for not wearing socks.

He forgets about the weird chill until it happens again the next morning. And again. And again.

“We are not keeping the apartment at 80 degrees, Bakugou!” Your attempts to push him away from the thermostat is futile, and his smirk only pisses you off more.

“Oh it’s Bakugou now? Last night it was, ‘Katsuki! Katsuki! Katsuki!’” He cackles through his poor imitation of your moans and wraps his arms around your waist. “It’s fucking cold and you’re getting sick, now move.” Easily,Katsuki reminds you of the strength he has as a pro-hero as picks you up and forcibly sets you aside.

“‘M not sick,” you pout and slink your cold hands underneath his hoodie.

Katsuki hisses and shivers from the feeling of your hands pressing into his warm belly, “Uh-huh. Guess that means you don’t want my sick day soup then, idiot.”

“Well I never said no to that.”

-(-)-

The ring burns in his pocket.

Originally he hid it deep inside the closet inside a coat that you never use, until the heater broke this morning. His hands sweat as he heard you digging around trying to find a warmer jacket while you both waited for the handyman to fix the goddamn thing. He’s thanking everything in the universe that you gave up so quickly and made him look for it.

So now it’s in his pocket of the ridiculously large down coat with the zipper zipped up to just above his nose.

“You panicked??” Izuku’s voice is tinny through the receiver.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou snaps at his phone. “I didn’t panic. I needed to move the ring and so I did. End of story.”

“Are you gonna propose soon then? How long are you gonna keep hiding it in your pocket, Kacchan?”

“Don’t fucking worry about it,” Katsuki rolls his eyes and glances at the apartment building where you are still trying to get ready. He pauses before adding, “…Tonight.”

With a wince, he pulls his phone away from his ear at the sound of Midoriya’s early congratulations. “Shut the fuck up, shitty nerd. They haven’t said yes, yet.”

“Yet,” Izuku gleefully laughs. “Tell your fiancé I say hi tonight then.”

Katsuki’s cheeks flush and it’s then that he sees you walking out the lobby, “Fuck off. Congrats yourself for number four. Next time I’ll be in the top ranks though, shitty nerd.”

“We’ll see about that, Kacchan! See ya la-!” Bakugo hangs up before Izuku can finish.

“Took you long enough,” His words don’t bite as he reaches out to grab your mitten-clad hands with his.

“I think it’s colder in our apartment than it is out here,” your voice is nasally now that your small cold has set in. “Who were you talking to?”

“Ah stupid fucking Deku. He’s trying to get me to rejoin Endeavor’s agency again.” He walks you towards the car, already running with the heat blasting so you don’t have to sit on frozen leather seats.

“Why don’t you?” You warm your hands against the vents, hoping that they warm up faster.

“Ah, I don’t know. I reached five with my job now,” Katsuki shakes his head and starts to gnaw on the inside of his cheek. He’s thought about it over a thousand times, but to be honest he’s leaning towards Shitty Hair’s offer. It’s just like something is holding him back, and he’s hesitant to admit that it might be fear of the unknown.

“The repair guy called and said he’ll have it fixed by tonight. We might as well stay outta his way.” Bakugou knows he’s not being subtle about changing the topic.

“Did he say what blew it out?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer and pointedly looks straight ahead as he drives.

“Katsuki,” you turn to face him better and your eyes narrow when you see him biting his lip. “Katsuki.”

“The heat was set too high for too long…” He mumbles, hoping you’d drop the topic and move on.

“Katsuki!” You smack his arm and he scowls, tutting his tongue at you.

“It’s freezing, and you got fucking sick because of it. How is it my fault our shitty heater couldn’t do its job??” Katsuki furrows his brows and glances over at you, watching you hold back from sniffling for the nth time.

“It’s your fault for trying to fix it and melting the fuse box,” you huff and sit back in your seat with crossed arms, discreetly wiping your nose when he looks away.

Katsuki looks at you again, not helping the upwards tug in his lips when he watches you pout. The ring burns in his pocket and he imagines you wearing it, showing it off to friends and family, you carrying his last name. Fuck it he’d take your last name if that’s what you wanted. He wonders what kind of wedding you both would have, if it’ll be small and private. Unfortunately with his ranking and you already in the public eye as his partner, his managers are going to expect a big ass party with all the most esteemed and honorable heroes. Lots of reporters. None of the food will be picked out by you. No. Fuck that. It’ll be whatever you want. He’ll fight heaven and hell for you and everyone knows it. What you want, you’ll get.

“Marry me,” he murmurs under his breath. The light turns red.

“What was that?” Your voice is congested and you don’t look up from your phone, still mindlessly scrolling through your social media feed.

“Marry me,” Katsuki repeats louder and more confidently. He watches as his words wash over you, until you finally snap your pretty little head up at him with eyes wide.

“What?” You blubber, locking your phone in the process. “Kat-Katsuki the light is green.” Your eyes nervously track over to the traffic light as it tells traffic to go, waiting for Bakugou to drive yet he doesn’t.

“I don’t care,” he smirks and takes out the velvet box from his pocket. He snaps it open with his fingers, ignoring the car horns blaring behind you both.

The gem matches your eyes, he thinks. Especially how they look in the sun. The same eyes that’re watering as you struggle to process this. Angry cars pass by you both with the drivers’ hands on their horn, and the ones who don’t pass make their annoyance heard as the light turns red again.

“Marry me,” He gives you that smile again. The one that’s only for you, the one that is soft and shows off the dimple on his left cheek, the one you see when you wake up and when you fall asleep.

“Okay,” you laugh and hold out your hand as he slips it on your finger. “Okay! Fuck!” You laugh and cry, not knowing if your nose is running because of your stupid cold or because you’re crying but you really don’t care. He kisses you sweetly, grateful for the few seconds you both have before the light turns green again.

He wasn’t planning on proposing to you in the middle of Musutafu’s streets, and he was also hoping you both would have a clean bill of health at the very least. But your hand is in his and he can feel your ring, he can feel your fingers squeezing his, cold as ice still. You keep this piece of news within the car, for at least a little longer before you both decide to tell close friends and family the news. You want this sliver of news between you both before the gossip catches on and reporters swarm you two with questions and photos of the happy couple. You want him, just him. And him, you.

Thankfully the heat is fixed and you both can keep this bubble going just a little longer. The apartment is warm again, even Talon is enjoying the heat by sitting her butt right on the air vent. The repairman is long gone, his invoice set on the counter that Katsuki is pressing you against. He deepens the kiss while stripping you of the many layers you wore to combat the cold. Katsuki swallows your soft noises and tries to shake off his own jacket before pressing into you again, his hips flushed against yours and you can feel the heat of his groin.

“You’re gonna get sick,” your words are muffled against his lips as you feebly move away from him.

“So I get a sick day,” Katsuki shrugs, leaning in again and keeping you in place with his warm hands on your cold cheeks.

Both of your jackets and hats and scarves pool around your ankles. You softly laugh when he pushes you onto the counter, settling in between your plush thighs as he starts to kiss up your jaw. His scent fills your senses as he works his way down your neck, floral and minty from the aftershave he used this morning. Everything about him makes you feel warm and your thoughts fuzzy. His lips and wandering hands grabbing at the fat of your hips and thighs, his tightening pants only growing tighter as you both desperately rut into the other.

“Bedroom,” he mutters more as a warning than a statement before picking you up. His words roll over your skin, prickling with excitement as you hear his deep voice cracking with lust.

Your sheets are still cold when you land on the bed, yet you barely can shiver before Bakugou starts to hold you close to him again. Declarations of “I love you’s” and what you’re going to do to each other linger in the air, until you’re gasping at the stretch of his fingers.

He nips at the curve of your neck and shoulders, laughing as you try to kick off your leggings so you can properly spread your legs for him.

“Katsuki,” you moan. “I need you. Please.”

“Just a bit more, baby. Gotta make sure I can fit inside your sweet pussy.”He curls and pumps his fingers inside your gummy walls, wondering why he didn’t just warm his hands this way hours earlier and jealous that his cock isn’t feeling the way you’re squeezing his thick fingers. Just a bit more, he thinks. When he finally does squeeze through, his pressed flush against yours and your hands fisting in his hair, he knows what it is making his belly warm inside.

It’s love that makes him quiver when he thrusts inside you, love that peppers across your skin as he kisses all your freckles, and it’s love that is shown in his eyes when he looks down at you. He moans your name in love, he makes you cum over and over out of love, and he holds you close in love.

With your ear pressed against his chest in the darkness of your shared room, you hear his heartbeat and know it’s yours. His fingers gently pop your knuckles and massage the tension in your hands as you both catch your breaths. The ring catches in the moonlight, winking at you both.

“Where did you hide this?” You whisper, your words muffling against his tacky skin.

“Don’t worry about it,” he scoffs. “There ain’t another one for you.”

“So romantic,” you laugh and nestle closer against his side. Bakugou only hums, not even realizing there’s a soft and dopey smile on his face still.

“I’m just saying that if you hid this then what else are you hiding- stop laughing!” He doesn’t take you seriously when you’re laughing at yourself, only rolling his eyes again at your attempt at mind games.

“Oh whatever you brat-” Katsuki’s laughter is cut short when he snaps his head towards the direction of the hallway. “Did you hear that?”

“Don’t change the subject,” you giggle and kiss up his jawline.

“Mm-mm, I’m serious.” Bakugou starts to untangle himself from you, grabbing his sweats and slipping them on over his bare half. “Stay here.”

“It’s Talon, stay in bed with me!” You take hold of his wrist despite both of you knowing he can pull away, and give him your best pout.

“Talon is on the bed, she’s been there the entire time. I couldn’t kick her off,” He keeps his eyes fixated on the closed door, waiting to hear the strange noise again.

“She’s been here the entire time?” You scoff and sit up, watching your orange tabby blink slowly at you.

Another floorboard groans and he makes his mind up. “Stay here.” His hand reaches back and grazes your fingers as he starts to slip on his sweats.

“Katsuki-” But he’s already quietly stepping out of your bedroom into the dark hallway.

There’s a certain mindset a pro-hero goes into when they’re working. Patrolling, missions, rescuing, combat. There’s a zone that they learn to hone while they’re children up until they’re licensed adult heroes. All their senses are heightened and honed to detect even the smallest of abnormalities. To not do so can be a matter of life or death. Bakugou thinks back to high school psychology when they had a lecture on the concept of “thin slicing”. Your brain recognizes patterns in your life, collects them, and memorizes them, and then compares them to other experiences you’ve had before. This all happens in a fraction of second, so fast that as human beings you aren’t even aware it’s happening until you feel it. The gut feeling everyone talks about.

“Listen to your gut feeling,” Aizawa had told them. “Better to be wrong and alive, than being right and dead.”

He moves stealthily through the apartment, his hands warming in preparation for the worst. The hairs on the back of his neck rise as he quietly moves from room to room. Nothing is off center, nothing has been moved, not even by a centimeter. The feeling doesn’t go away.

When he’s circled the apartment twice, Bakugo’s eyebrows pinch and he frowns. Your cat, having left the room now, starts to circle around Katsuki’s steps, nearly tripping him. With an annoyed exhale, Katsuki refills the cat bowl with kibble and returns to you again.

“What was it?” You whisper.

He shakes his head, still unable to shake off the gnawing feeling of anxiety and alarm in his lower belly. “Nothing. I’m gonna get us a better alarm system though. Can’t trust this shitty building,” he crawls back into bed with you. You’re wearing his sweatshirt now, and the worry between your eyes doesn’t leave even with him back in bed.

“Sorry,” he nudges your nose with his. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine, Katsuki.” You cup his cheeks and look into his scarlet eyes. “What’s been going on? You’ve been acting strange lately. Is it work or…”

He’s quiet before he decides to lean into your hands, eyes fluttering shut before he shifts to rest against your chest. He tries to think of an answer, on why he’s been on edge lately like this. Work hasn’t been stressful, not any more stressful at least. In fact, with the new rankings Bakugou feels that everything is finally coming into place. The city feels safer, civilians have started to lean their trust onto heroes again.

He can see a brighter future. One with you in it, one where he takes the number one spot, one with a family and little brats running around.

In his mind’s eye, everything in his future means you're there beside him.

It’s why listening to your heart right now calms him.

“I don’t know,” Bakugou answers truthfully, his voice is gruff and muffled in your sweater. “Sometimes work follows me home.”

“Not literally I hope,” you chuckle.

He peaks up and smiles again, “‘No not literally, idiot.”

-(-)-

Work has been shit all day. A blizzard is coming in and it might hit the city sooner than what the reporters are saying, it’s all hands on deck with the exception of the top five. Bakugou has been held from patrolling and working on his active cases today, all so that the top five ranked heroes can interview with Japan’s most elite magazine publisher. Sitting in front of a camera crew across from an interviewer isn’t how he wanted to spend his day. He was asked to come in with casual wear. “Be prepared to be dressed and made up over and over,” his manager warned him. Annoyance doesn’t even begin to describe how he’s feeling right now.

Bakugou’s interview was first, as number five in the hero ranks. Everything went smoothly, he answered the stupid questions, he played along with the idiocy and obsession with his physical appearance. What he couldn’t stand was the implication that his success was based on the prestigious connections to his old teachers and mentors: All Might, Endeavor, Best Jeanist.

“You’ve been so lucky to have gotten their help over the years-,” The woman (Suzuki? Katsuki can’t seem to remember her fucking name), crosses her legs before being interrupted abruptly.

“What does luck have to do with it? I didn’t ask for their help, they sought me out because I’m a fucking goddamn good hero- no scratch that. I’m the fucking best. I don’t need any old bastard to try and take credit for my hard fucking work!” Yeah… he knows he fucked up.

The poor interviewer is shell-shocked, her stupid professional smile frozen and twitching across her face as she tries to keep herself composed. “Ah, sorry. I- Congratulations on your rank, Dynamite. And good luck- I mean-!” Oh her name is Sasaki, Katsuki scowls, and that seems to only make her more nervous.

He rolls his eyes, catching a glimpse of a stiffened Deku watching the mess of an interview unravel. The others are wide eyed as well, bones stiff with second-hand embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for those who pushed me,” Katsuki grumbles and looks down at his hands. He thinks about the myth, Vena Amora, the vein that leads straight to one’s heart right from the finger. The promise you both made wrapped around yours, maybe he should get one too…

“It was my hard work and them pushing me to go further,” He looks ahead and watches Sasaki regain her composure, sitting up straighter as his response settles in the air. “It ain’t about luck.”

His assistant is no help, either. He’s a nervous, quirkless man who can’t multitask, and has been more of a wreck lately. And now, he spilled coffee all over Bakugou’s suit. So now Katsuki’s changing for the upteenth time, his jaw clenched as he tries to remember his breathing exercises.

Katsuki is lacing up his combat boots when he sees his phone light up with a message from you. He leans in and swipes to read your text, a faint smile already spreading across his lips.

you:

i put away all the supplies you got btw!! almost made me late to work! if this blizzard doesn’t come we are going to be eating in every day to get rid of this shit :P

You’ve sent a video attachment, and the moment he hears your voice it seems like the weight on his shoulders is already lifting. He watches you with a tiny smile, finding it easier to breathe again. You’re showing him all the little pottery projects that a third grade class on a class field trip had finished, laughing as you try to explain each student and their creation.

“They’re so fucking bad at throwing pottery! So cute!” You giggle and flip the camera back to yourself, you’re wearing a medical mask to protect your cold from the school children. Katsuki’s smile grows and he laughs softly to himself as you talk about which pottery piece is your unofficial favorite.

“Anyway! I hope today doesn’t suck ass. I have a commission to work on tonight, so I’ll be up when you get home. Okay bye!!”

Before Bakugou can text back, there’s a timid knock on the changing room door. He slips his phone in his pocket and pauses, taking a deep breath to try and dampen his annoyance. On the other side is his assistant, the man his agency thrusted upon him. He’s small, just like his employee file since there isn’t any quirk to input in the system. High school education, went to Tokyo University for a degree in public relations and Hero Statistics, and other things that bored Katsuki. He’s not sure why he would settle for being an assistant of an arrogant up-and-coming pro-hero, Bakugou has nothing to teach or offer him.

He tries to be patient with him though. Especially now that Akui is offering him another cup of coffee as penance for the one he spilled all over Bakugou just five minutes ago.

“Thanks,” Katsuki grumbles and takes it from Akui’s bony hand.

“Was that your fiancé on the phone?” Akui offers an awkward smile and his voice is wobbly as he tries to keep up with Bakugou.

“Yeah, playing with mud with some bratty kids. What’s this?” He glares at the stack of paperwork handed to him, and flipping through he groans. “Why is the commission so interested in this?”

“I- I don’t know, sir? They told me to hand it to you.” Akui stumbles beside Bakugou and glances at the paperwork, “It seems like they just want to know how you reached your ranking this year.”

“Because I fucking worked hard,” Bakugou scoffs. The warmth you left inside him is starting to grow cold, replaced instead with annoyance as the technical side of hero work starts to anchor in. “What’s so hard to understand?”

His assistant is silent as they stand together, watching the camera and stage crew adjust once again. The busy-body crew members zip back and forth as the number three hero takes her seat in the interview chair. Nejire Chan chats happily with the makeup artist touching up the blush on her cheeks, nothing that Bakugou can understand. To Katsuki’s left he can see the other two-thirds of UA’s infamous Big Three, Suneater and Lemillion, watching Nejire’s interview start.

“There’s a theory that was developed by some mathematicians.” When Akui speaks, Katsuki glances down at him, his assistant looking almost past the two heroes as he stares seriously into the distance. “It’s to help determine the predictability of a hero’s ranking. It’s supposed to be fairly accurate. Apparently, another hero was supposed to be in your place. Yet you defied those odds.”

It takes a moment for Katsuki to respond as he mulls his words over, “You studied statistics.” It’s spoken almost like a question, but Akui looks over at Bakugou, stunned that he even knows that fact about him.

“Y-yes!” Whatever reverie Akui was in, snaps.

“Do you agree with them?” Bakugou looks over at the man and wonders if he ever gets any sunlight. His pale skin makes him shiver just looking at him, and Bakugou wonders how someone could look so translucent under these lights.l

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation, firmly. “You shouldn’t have won.” An emotion Katsuki doesn’t recognize flashes across Akui’s face, too quick for him before he settles back into the Akui he recognizes. “But- but that’s good! You defy odds, it makes you an amazing pro!”

Katsuki stares at Akui for a moment, a question lingering on his tongue before Izuku beats him to it. “Kacchan!”

“Get the fuck off me,” Bakugou shakes off Izuku who only holds on tighter.

“I’m getting calls for you from your agency, you shouldn’t have said that-!”

“Oh fuck off,” Katsuki rolls his eyes. “They got a good sound bite at the end, it's fine. This is all bullshit, anyway. We should be out there working. Not here getting pampered for doing our fucking jobs.” Izuku only hums back, obviously not agreeing with his behavior still.

Akui is called away, leaving behind the two younger pro-heroes to watch as Suneater nervously takes his place in the spotlight. A silence falls over the set as he speaks, everyone drawn in by his quiet voice and subtle, quirky charm. There’s a soft scratching of pencil on paper, and Bakugou doesn’t have to look to know that Izuku is taking notes.

“By the way, when the fuck did you tell people about Mud and I?”

Izuku stops his notetaking and looks up with a flash of confusion before he realizes who “Mud” is. Ah, your pottery. He smiles confusedly, “Uhh I don’t know what you mean. Everyone knows you two are dating.”

“You told people we got engaged though,” Katsuki glares at Deku who only grows more confused by the second.

“W-wait! You proposed? When the fuck did that happen? Why didn’t you tell me??” Izuku squeaks and his eyes grow large.

“Huh?! Since when do I have to tell you anything?!”

“I’m your best friend-!” He’s interrupted by a crew member scolding them both, leaving Deku to be blushing furiously and bowing in apology.

“Whatever,” Katsuki scoffs to himself. “We can’t really celebrate anyway until after the storm.”

“Are you guys all prepared?” Izuku is absent-mindedly playing with his hands as the two men watch the new number one hero step in his seat.

“Yeah, you?”

Deku nods, both of them are itching to get back on the field. Their agencies are in full emergency lockdown status, trying to get the city in lockdown to minimize casualties. Katsuki remembers clearly what the Endeavor agency’s procedures were for something like this, he’s certain that it’s killing Deku to be out of those plans now. Katsuki can’t say the same of his new agency, though. He’s a little perplexed by how their operations run for emergencies like the oncoming storm. Bakugou offered his services for an entire week before today, knowing that it’s an all hands on deck situation for pro-heroes to help. Yet his agency shut him out. They gave him fake smiles and assured him that his services should be focused elsewhere.

“You should come back,” Deku quietly tells Bakugou.

Katsuki only hums in reply, knowing how much he’s aching to go back. His gut tells him otherwise, it’s telling him he’s close to finding out who his employers actually are.

“Katsuki,” Izuku is staring at Bakugou, watching his eyes harden as he holds back something he can’t even tell his oldest friend. “Is everything okay?”

Katsuki can’t answer, because the obvious answer is yes. Everything is okay. This agency was able to make him go up higher in the ranks. Yet there’s this gnawing feeling in the back of his mind that he’s been forced to wear blinders, forced to look ahead and not at the man behind the curtain. He’s determined to pull it apart.

-(-)-

The ride home is quiet with the exception of the car radio playing softly in the background. Bakugou is exhausted, his shoulders carry the weight of the photoshoot and the interviews even more than they do on his normal patrolling days. Annoyingly, another pro is being interviewed right now. Katsuki turns the volume up a few notches, catching the familiar phantom pro-hero explaining her success in reaching the dead All Might’s ghost. Tch, there’s no one to prove her quirk even exists. Bakugou switches the radio station to a local channel that plays only classical and jazz music.

His manager gave him an earful about his outburst already, there was barely anything to salvage in his interview. An apology letter and an edible arrangement is going to be sent to the production crew, and one for just Sasaki, out of Bakugou’s next paycheck. He supposes he deserves that just a little. To be fair, though, Katsuki already privately apologized to her.

It’s been a long day.

He sighs in relief when your apartment comes to view, the street lights glowing serenely greet him up the sidewalk. Each step drags until he’s finally at your door, the bite of the wintery cold burns on his cheeks when he steps inside the hot apartment.

“I’m home!” He shrugs off his jacket, ears straining to hear your voice. Bakugou sheds his many layers without hearing you call back out to him, instead he’s only met with soft music. He glances at the clock above the stove, wondering why you’re up so late.

Katsuki heads to your mini studio, really it’s just a second bedroom that barely fits your pottery wheel and kiln. You both worked hard to renovate it, and by you both it was mostly Bakugou, but he was determined to have your space be done within a day. It’s where you spend your time working when you’re not at your studio, halfway across the city. When you told him that you are a potter, he teased you for playing with mud so much he ended up nicknaming you that.

The first time he knew he was in love with you was when you showed him how to throw pottery, the patience you had in him that not even Katsuki possessed as he struggled to mold the clay between his thick fingers. He grumbled and cursed under his breath with each failed attempt to make a decent bowl, until finally he did it. A wobbly, lopsided bowl that even your hands couldn’t make perfect as you attempted to guide him. Yet you grinned, proud of him for that shitty bowl. You cheered for him, even glazed the damn thing and now it sits by the doorway as a bowl that holds your keys.

“I don’t usually make shit with my hands,” he grumbled with the tips of his ears growing red.

“That’s bullshit,” you scoffed with your back turned to him. You were carefully putting away his bowl to be fired up in the kiln later, already wondering how you were gonna glaze it. “You've cooked for me before, that counts.”

Katsuki remembers realizing how you really view him for the first time. Not as the pro who’s explosions destroy and combust, not as the angry asshole who never learns to give up a fight. You didn’t see his hands are weapons of destruction. You saw him delicately plate food together, you’ve seen him make music with his hands, they’re the same hands who finds yours in the dark because he knows you’re afraid of what’s in the shadows. They’re the hands that slip through your fingers when he’s making love to you, they’re the hands that create wobbly bowls for you because you keep losing your keys.

It’s the first time he understood what being in love meant.

So he finds you now, totally entranced in another project that he assumes is the commission you mentioned earlier today.

“Playing with mud again?” He hears you snicker before you look over your shoulder, hands slick with wet clay as your creation spins before you.

“Mhm, ‘m almost done.” You flash him a smile and face your work again.

Katsuki pulls up another stool and sits right behind you, hooking his over over your shoulder to watch you work. Your ring finger is void of your engagement ring, although Bakugou doesn’t mind. It’s relaxing, mesmerizing even, watching your hands work so delicately to mold nothing into something.

“How long have you been workin’ on this, Mud?” Bakugou presses a kiss on your shoulder and stifles a laugh when your fingers dig a little too deep, collapsing the entire piece.

“Since noon,” you sigh and scrap the vase.

“You’re still not out of the woods just yet, why are you dressed like it’s still summer?”

“It’s hot,” you defend yourself with a laugh. An improperly timed sniffle escapes you and Bakugou snorts in reply, nuzzling his cold nose into your skin again.

“Can I help?” Bakugou moves in closer until his broad chest is pressed firmly against your back.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Put your hands here… yup, and then you’re just gonna get them wet before we start.” Your hands dip into the bucket of murky water beside you and you wet Bakugou’s hands in the clay/water mixture. Your fingers are messier than his since you’ve been working all day, but as you prep his hands he can’t help smiling as you guide him.

“Mhm, perfect.” You mutter, curling your fingers against the wet clay as you try to form the base again. “Now just let the clay slide between your fingers.”

Katsuki does as you say, all the while pressing lingering kisses against your bare skin. You get hot in your little makeshift studio, and end up wearing shorts and tank tops in the dead of winter. It’s perfect for these moments, Katsuki thinks. Teasing you with kisses where he knows you’re most sensitive, letting the mud slip between his fingers before gliding his hands higher. He makes a bigger mess out of you, his hands caressing your wrists and forearms, gently massaging you all while kissing up your shoulder and neck. You’re melting under him, shy giggles slipping out like gasps from your lips as you try to work.

Bakugou kisses the junction of your ear and neck, gently nipping at your sensitive spot. He watches you with amusement as you try to mold the clay, his hands going back to where you first had him start. “Like this?” He whispers against your ear.

You can only hum in reply, making him grin. Each of his thick thighs are beside yours as he presses in closer to you, trapping you in. The heat of his body is molding you, melting and reshaping you as you attempt to steady your hands. Until finally, when he can’t take it anymore, Katsuki manages to slip your hands away from the clay. Your attention fixes back to him as you turn to kiss him back, his tongue slipping through your lips to taste you. His hands hold onto yours, distantly he thinks back to when he first knew he loved you.

“It’s gonna take me another whole ass day to try and fix this,” you whisper between kisses.

Katsuki rolls his eyes, “Shut up and lemme kiss you. I’ve missed you all day, Mud.”

“Oh yeah?” You smile as he trails his lips down your jaw. “Wanna show me how much you’ve missed me?”

“With pleasure,” Bakugou smirks against your skin before gently nibbling at you.

-(-)-

“What time is it?” You whisper from on top of his bare chest, still breathless.

Katsuki glances at the clock and curses under his breath, “Is the trash still coming?” His arms tighten around your waist as you twist to look, feeling you deflate.

“Yeah, the news said that they’re coming overnight before the storm hits,” you groan when he starts to slip you off him. “Katsuki, don’t leave!”

“You really wanna be stuck in this apartment with trash rotting in every corner?” Bakugou flashes you a smirk and pushes you back down into the mattress, kissing you passionately all the while.

“Maybe,” you mumble against his lips. Your arms wrap around his neck and you pull him down again, hoping he stays. “Lemme get dressed, I’ll come down with you.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but if it’s the only way you’ll let him go downstairs he’ll take it. “I ain’t waiting on ya though, I’ll be back before you’re even got your slippers on.”

It’s a small exaggeration that leaves you huffing and him grinning wickedly. However, to be fair, by the time Katsuki has gathered all the trash, you’re still in bed putting on socks. “I’ll meet you downstairs!”

Katsuki skips the elevator and decides to go down the stairs instead, not wanting to disturb the other tenants. The cold air nearly steals the oxygen from his lungs, already the wind is picking up and chills him down to his bones. Bakugou pushes through, hoping you actually don’t come down now. You’re still fighting that cold, you don’t need to be dealing with this shit.

It’s a small walk around the corner towards the dumpsters when it starts to snow, clumps that immediately stick on their landing. Katsuki watches for a moment, mesmerized by the snow catching onto his hoodie and settling against his blonde hair. He pauses for a moment, staring up into the sky framed by the city apartment buildings. The cold air whips at him, cutting through his hoodie and sweats. Bakugou snaps out of his trance slowly, shivering as he throws out the trash.

It happens far too quickly.

He’s pushed hard into the cold metal dumpster, immediately thrown off balance by the slick sidewalk. Something stabs into his back, again and again. The sight of his blood pooling against the snow pisses Katsuki off enough for him to stand again. With wobbly legs he runs after his attacker down the street, cursing himself for not being faster and for not sensing the danger faster.

“Katsuki!” Your voice calls out to him. “Katsuki!”

“Stay- stay back!” He yells back, turning only when he hears your screams.

You’re lying next to the dumpster, hunched over and screaming. Katsuki furrows his brows, panic lurching in his belly as he runs back towards you. The absolute horror settles into his bones colder than the air around him. You’re crying on top of his body, whimpering and crying out for help as your hands try to stop the blood from his wounds.

“Mud…” He tries to touch you but his hand slips through your face.

“Somebody! Somebody help me!” You scream louder and louder, voice cracking as you try to cradle his body closer to you.

“I’m- I’m right here! Goddamn it, I’m right here!” Katsuki screams right by your ear, trying to touch you.

“You can’t leave me, don’t you leave me- Help! Somebody help me!”

A pro-hero he doesn’t recognize arrives on the scene. And then the ambulances.

Katsuki stays by your side, desperately trying to stay by your side. He catches on to your whispered pleas, begging him to hold on even though he’s right next to you trying to do the exact same thing.

He doesn’t look at the body whose hand you’re holding, it’s not him. He’s right next to you. He's right next to you, please look at him.

The doctors tell you he was stabbed by someone who’s quirk turns blood into poison. That’s how he…

“I’m not dead! I’m right here! I’m right fucking here!” Katsuki screams into the doctor’s face, all the rage boiling over inside him until he’s red in the face. “I ain’t fucking dead!”

He tries to stop them from telling you that he’s gone, he tries to cradle you against him when you curl into yourself. He just helplessly falls through the molecules instead.

“Are you ready?” He waits for you to reply, watching you cry as the doctor awkwardly pats your shoulder and gives you the space to grieve.

“Are you ready?” The voice asks again, this time there’s a tap on his shoulder.

Bakugou turns, unable to think. “Me? You’re talking to me? You can see me?”

“Yes of course,” it says. Whatever it is, it’s dressed in dark robes with a hood. The face is static aside from their eyes, yellow and bright as it watches him. “Are you ready?” They ask again.

“For what?” Katsuki steps back when they step forward. “Ready for what?” He spats out, scowling when they step closer again. “Back the fuck up!” He lunges forward with his palms outstretched, ready to attack. The usual sparks of an explosion are gone, nothing happens.

The being stares at him unimpressed. “Are you done? I don’t have all day, I kinda have a quota to meet.”

“N-no, I ain’t- I ain’t going with you!” Katsuki lurches back, heart aching that he isn’t near you anymore as it steps closer to him.

“Well, Katsuki Bakugou. You’re dead, and I’m here to take you.” They step right in front of you, not that you can see them. Their head tilts and its yellow eyes squint at Bakugou, “So it seems like we are at a crossroads now.”