L.O.V.E

Chapter 06.

♡ twenty three

♡ rivals to lovers / fake dating

♡ cw / tw : Play fighting, talks of drinking

"Oi dumbass." Katsuki huffs as you look up from where you were seated on the couch, scrolling through your phone,

"Don't call me that stupid." You grin, tossing your phone to the side and getting up. "What's up buddy?"

Katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Grab the chilli powder. Top shelf. On the left. Far left." He instructs and you raise an eyebrow.

"Ordering me around? How rude."

"Not helping me make dinner? I think that makes you, the rude one here."

"I'm the guest!" You gasp, placing a hand on your chest, in mocking offence.

Katsuki scoffs. "Uh huh. Well my hands are full of batter. So if you would rather be doing the dirty work I would be glad to wash them and sit on the couch." 

He grins, moving his batter covered hands towards you, making you shriek and stumble back.

Katsuki cackles, stepping forward and sticking his hands out, chasing you around his kitchen with his dirty hands.

"Okay okay!" You shout, sides hurting from the running and all the laughing. "I'll grab you the chilli powder!! Just please! Mercy!" 

Katsuki slows to a stop and grins triumphant. "I won then."

"A draw."

"Nah I won that one."

"Nah I'd say it was a draw."

"You'd say wrong cause I won."

You shake your head and trudge back into the kitchen, reaching for the chilli powder and along with Katsuki's supervision, adding it into the batter.

"Thanks." He mumbled under his breath, rolling his arms, pulling a crick out of his shoulders as he got back into cooking you both dinner.

Your eyes stay trained on his skilled hands as they work, watching each muscle flex under his warm skin. His body looked warm - buzzing with blood and nitroglycerin… you wondered how his skin would feel under your fingertips and the palms of your hands.  

"You're staring." Katsuki says in a matter of fact tone, snapping you out of your train of thought.

"Since when were you able to cook, Bakugo?"

He paused and turned to frown at you, raising an eyebrow at you. "Are you sure you paid any attention to me during highschool? We lived in the same fucking dorms for three years? Didn't I cook for the whole damn class on multiple occasions?" 

You wave your hands in front of your face and shake your head, "Not what I was asking. Like- why?"

"Why what?" He mumbles, going back to cooking.

"Why did you learn to cook?"

"Why not?"

"Bakugo."

"What?"

You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow.

He sighs and taps his foot against the tiled floor.

"I uh... I know you won't believe me but I was a difficult kid to control growin' up," 

You snort and Katsuki rolls his eyes, 

"Yea, real funny. I caused my old hag a lot of fuckin' stress when I was younger..." 

He paused. 

"I probably still do… all this hero shit and comin’ home banged up... ahem. Anyways. My old hag thought I needed a healthy outlet for the- and I quote, 'Crappy ass anger in you.'" 

He shrugged, walking over to the sink and washing his hands, 

"And she decided cooking would be the best outlet. I didn't care much when I was younger. Cooking... playing the fuckin' drums. All shit that would take me away from training to be the number one... but I can't lie..." 

Katsuki sighed, 

"It's not a bad skill to pick up. Especially when dunce face and the rest of the fucking losers, decide they want to eat something I cook for them when their blasted out their fuckin' minds."

He shrugged.

"'Sides. Why go to a fancy ass place, waste fuckin' money, gas, time and have the fuckin' media hound your ass when you can cook the shit yourself?"

And see the way your face lights up when I present it to you.

Katsuki shook his head.

Stupid Eijirou and his dumb romance ideas. Get out of my head!

"Huh. Never took you for a sap Bakugo." You hum, grinning when Katsuki pauses,

"THE FUCK? I'M NOT NO FUCKIN' SAP-"

"Eyes on the stove blondie! Don't want our dinner burning on us! That'd be on you." You poke at his chest, leaning in, your eyes flickering to meet his lips before you flash a grin at his flushed face, stepping out of the kitchen, and into the bathroom.

What the fuck.

What the fuck was that.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.

Katsuki gripped his shirt, bunching it into a fist as he tried to breathe, his heart throbbing against his ribcage as his other hand reached for the counter, trying to hold himself upright.

He could still feel your warm hand, pressing against his skin. You were so close, he could smell your shampoo and count the blemishes on your face and - shit did you lick your bottom lip too? 

"What the fuck..."

-

"Oi! Stupid! Are you ready? Hurry up before I press play!" You shout from Katsuki's bed. You were curled up in your pajamas, one of his pillows sitting on your lap as you stared at the TV screen in front of you.

"Gimmie five dumbass!" Katsuki shouted from his bathroom.

If you had told yourself three months ago that you'd be sitting in Katsuki Bakugo's bed right now, eating his snacks and curling up with one of his pillows - you would've laughed, spat at your feet and probably cursed your whole family generation - past, present and future for even suggesting something so damn stupid.

But the unofficial "date" you had at the bar with him - it tore something down between you both. Maybe you never really hated him in the first place.

Maybe you said you did because you were scared of telling him that you didn't. You were scared of what he might've said.

You definitely hated that thought.

Regardless, it was obvious that both of you were slowly beginning to open up to each other, the snarky remarks lost their malice and began a sort of... love language? 

Strangely enough.

Gross.

The glaces of hate had dissolved into glances of longing.

Yuck.

He had even held your hand, when you were much too drunk to walk let alone hold yourself up.

Ick.

His palm was warm, slightly calloused. But comforting.

He was comforting.

This shit is so fucking corny [Name]. Snap the fuck out. He's supposed to be your rival. Not your lover.

"You done spacing out?"

You yelped at the sound of his voice.

"Don't just do that!" you shook your head and placed a hand on your chest. 

"Right..." Katsuki snorted, moving to sit next to you. "What did you put on?"

"Scream?" You shrugged as Katsuki reached over to grab a handful of your snacks, ignoring your quiet 'HEY!' as he shoves the food in his mouth.

"A classic." He says, mouth full.

-

"That was fun Bakugo." You smiled as he pulled the door open for you.

"Yea?" He tilts his head to the side and a small smile tugs on his lips. "'M glad... you liked the food too right?"

You hummed, nodding as he helped you out of his car. "We should do that more... only if you want though!" You stammered nervously, a warm flush creeping up your cheeks as you nervously scratched the back of your head.

Katsuki nodded. "Sure... Yea... Okay. Why not."

You nodded walking to your door. "Cool... Cool..." You cough awkwardly and scratch the back of your head. "Thanks for dropping me off Bakugo."

Katsuki nodded, pulling the front door of his car open. "Yea. Sleep well... Or whatever." He mumbled under his breath. 

You pulled your front door open.

Katsuki shoved his key into the ignition.

-

"Chirst Katsuki. Pull yourself together." He groaned, tugging on his ashen blond locks as he shuffled into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

Red eyes scan over his bed, the sheets messy and crumples, wrappers overflowing in the small trashcan next to his bed.

He was going crazy. Maybe he was dying? Is this what it feels like to be dying? Dying at twenty three - would you show up to his funeral? Cry and hold his body? Would you miss him if he was gone? Maybe he was going crazy. 

These are crazy thoughts Katsuki.

“You’re going insane Katsuki. Snap the fuck out of it.”

He let out a groan, sitting on his bed and rubbing his hands over his face. “Fucking hell…” 

Katsuki reached for the pillow you were holding onto the whole night.

Probably smells like them now.

Katsuki paused.

He lifted the pillow up to his face and inhaled. His shoulders dropped and he felt the tension leave his body. Was this creepy? Probably. But damn did he need this. 

He sighed and flopped back in bed, curling up against the pillow.

And, pretending that he was holding you - Katsuki Bakugo fell asleep.

-> Masterlist

taglist [OPEN] : @luvseraphh - @tlissablr - @havemyheartt - @smelliottle - @sakurayashiro - @peachesvault - @qyuin - @kaidostwin - @wonubby - @moochiwoochi - @coldnightshark - @kalulakunundrum - @sexylexy12 - @rednicotine - @samm1e13 - @kawoala - @neptuneevee - @kodditty - @hecate-frenchfries - @eyesforbkg - @takoyakitakii - @m0nnypie - @katsucookies - @nottherealslimshady - @gethexxed - @bakugouswh0r3 - @katswifey - @ita606 - @jazoewazoe - @cherrii-11 - @risagichi

© HTTPS-BAKUGO. Do not steal, copy or use any of my work for AI. Legal action will take place if caught.

not a lot, just forever // oneshot part three

a/n: the last of the bday oneshots for my favorite trio <3 this one hit a little different for me and i think its because i've never written post war canon-adjacent shigs before so this was really healing <3 happy birthday tomutomu i love you foreverrr

keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

it’s still so frustratingly embarrassing for tomura; the glances glazing over him by the passersby, being present, taking up space, all of it. despite all of the time that had passed and the constant work in therapy and counseling, nothing was harder than existing.

“i want to go inside,” tomura mutters, his gloved fingers tapping against his outstretched legs. 

it was a bit humid, and the sun was beating down on the two of you, but you knew tomura was itching for a hoodie to hide under. he desperately wanted to be invisible.

“this is nice though, isn’t it?” you sigh in content, leaning your head back and letting the sunlight engulf your face. “i don’t remember the last time i was able to sit in a park like this.”

“it feels too open.”

“does it feel too open or are you just too used to being trapped?” you squint your eyes open, slightly peering over at him next to you on the bench.

he scoffs and kicks your foot with his. you catch the end of his eye roll and take it as an opportunity to scoot in closer, letting your thighs graze together.

“sorry,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. “i know it’s hard.”

hard wasn’t the word tomura would use to describe his recovery process. he felt lost- as if he had been dumped in the middle of the desert with no sense of direction, and the worst of it all was that it was lonely.

spinner had written his book. dabi was in his family’s care. toga was off in quirk counseling. you were rapidly progressing. he was nothing.

“what do i do now?” he whispers back to you- something that you two often did for a private moment when you caught each other in the hallways of the rehabilitation center.

“we,” you emphasize, looping your arm in tomura’s, “are free to do whatever we want.”

“we…” he slowly repeats, “you know, you don’t have to stick with me anymore,” he half heartedly chuckles, “you can do whatever you want now that we’ve graduated from this bullshit.”

you think back on those late nights at the hideout when you two would be the only ones up. you'd be sitting at the bar, knees to knees, closely leaning into one another, talking in hushed tones, and exchanging light touches as you pass an energy drink back and forth.

you remember those times fondly where you could pretend to be anyone else, but there was always that looming dread in the back of your head during those days.

this won’t last forever.

i can’t get too attached.

i’ll love you for as long as i can.

here you were now, side by side as things turned out wildly different from what you expected- that the next time you’d see tomura would be in the afterlife.

you’ve spent too long shutting down any thought of the future that envisioning it now leads to a scribbled mass of grey in your mind. you couldn’t visualize it. no plan. no expectancies. nothing. you had nothing to be sure of except for the fact that you and tomura were here and alive.

where else would you want to be?

you don’t say anything except for a hm that you breathed out.

tomura’s deep exhale almost nudges you off of his shoulder. you’re half tempted to peer up at his face to gauge his expression, but the fidgety hands in his lap already gives away his feelings as the beat of silence passes.

“you remember what we talked about? all those years ago when we were hiding out at that shitty bar?”

“we talked a lot, babe,” you lightly chuckle, “you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that.”

“about what we’d do if things were different.” 

“rob a bank and leave japan with new identities?” you joke.

tomura deadpans, “dumbass, i’m talking about the last night that… you know.”

the last night you were you?

“oh that conversation,” you mutter, uncomfortably shifting in your seat, "remind me what we talked about?”

“you don’t remember?” 

truthfully, it would be impossible for you to forget when that conversation was the only thing that got you through the agonizing nights in the hospital room when you thought you had been the only survivor.

“i do, but i like hearing you talk so remind me anyway.”

tomura responds with an annoyed huff, “well if you remember, then i’m not going to repeat it. i just mentioned it because clearly neither of us know what the fuck we’re going to do with our lives after this.”

you unloop your arm from his and sit up, making him snap his attention towards you. it was the first time today that he looked you in the eyes. his cheeks were flushed from the sun- the first sign of life in his face in a long time after the limited outside time allotted from the rehab facility.

“we talked about wanting a quiet life,” you quietly say, reaching your hand up to tuck a tuft of his shaggy hair behind his ear. “not in the country though. you wanted to stay in the city for the convenience, so maybe a nice little apartment. you still want that?”

he slowly nods his head. “think so.”

from his ear, your hand trails down to his jaw and neck, running across old scars from deep scratches.

“and i specifically remember you being so mad at me when i laughed at you when you said you didn’t give a fuck about anything else as long as you could have a dog.”

“still want one,” he mutters.

“and then…” you continue slowly, resting your hand on the rough skin of his neck, “i told you that i was a cat person, but i didn’t care as long as we…”

you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. it had always been an unwritten rule to never talk about the “what ifs” and “what could’ve beens” in the hideout, but you always loved breaking the rules, and tomura loved entertaining your thoughts.

the tips of his ears began to match the blush on his cheeks. 

“keep going,” he barely whispers, keeping his eyes locked on yours- one of the small meaningful things that he had grown to do over the last few years in therapy.

“as long as we could be together. i just wanted to be with you.” you quietly say. “i still do. if that's okay."

a beat of silence passes. a life with you. a dog and maybe a cat. nothing else. no expectations. just you and whatever "normal" life you two could live.

“we should…” he trails off for a moment, thinking of the right words to say, “get married?”

you blink one. twice.

“hah?” you exclaim, recoiling back.

your hand slaps onto the back of the bench to leverage yourself through the motion.

“what?” his face deepens in color “what else are we supposed to fucking do?"

“how did we go from yeah i want to move into an apartment and raise a dog with you to marriage?” you laugh, almost unbelieving.

“i don’t know? just shut up,” he grumbles, “forget i said anything.”

tomura turns his head away from you, looking off in the other direction as he curses at himself. he doesn’t know how to tell you that yes, that’s exactly what he wants too- that existing may be hard, but he wants nothing more than to do it with you.

his face is burning from the embarrassment, but you’re still giggling to yourself and he can’t resist himself from turning back to watch. 

you two have never dared to utter “i love you” to one another before, but in that moment , he felt it on the tip of his tongue and for once, he’s not afraid to let it out.

“i love you, okay?” he says confidently, but his eyes are unable to meet yours until you force them to.

you reach up and hold his face in your hands, bringing him in closely. “i love you,” you lightly run your thumbs across the apples of his cheeks as his eyes dart back and forth between yours, “and we should get married."

so who’s making this band with me?

there's something kinda yuri about being tumblr mutuals

the nerd i reblogged this from has a quality blog & i recommend you all follow them.

crashing out over becoming recent moots with @shigarakislaughter who i consider to be tumblr famous with rue and the others (even though im late to following them i just get shy okay) ahhh

heh you've been promoted (to mutual) yea i saw you on kisa's blog and i was like lowk i dont get social anxiety so imma make a new fren and i forgot EVERYTHING the moment i saw epic i am not joking

i have so bad anxiety but I LOVE making new frens ahh and i love when it’s over epic

Chapter 04.

♡ twenty three

♡ rivals to lovers / fake dating

♡ cw / tw : -

"We're gonna need a story." Bakugo mumbled as you walked over to him.

"A story?" You tilted your head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Well they're obviously going to ask us questions in there aren't they?" Bakugo responded dryly, jutting his thumb towards the door, before rolling his eyes at your blatant stupidity. "We gotta come up with a story, dumbass. How we started getting close..." He looked down and gripped his phone tightly, knuckles going white as his voice dropped slightly, "How.. we fell in love..." He finished, meeting your gaze.

Your tongue kissed your teeth as you scratched the back of your neck.

"Okay how about this. You and I hated each other in highschool.” You stood up straighter and failed to notice the way Bakugo bit the inside of his cheek.

‘I never hated you.’ 

“Which - y’know isn't a lie per say.” You continued, “Now we get close during adulthood cause of uh..." Your voice trails off as you scramble to try and figure out where to take your fake dating cover story. 

It's not like you could've said that you and Bakugo were paired up by your PR teams because you were both slipping in the ranks.

Bakugo sighed and spoke up, finishing the story for you. "Rivalry."

You stared blankly at him.

"Rivalry. You know... constantly going up against each other for the number one spot.” He stepped towards you. “And the constant butting heads drew me towards you.” Bakugo’s eyes flickered down your body, “It pissed me off but it was new. Fresh.” before his gaze pulled itself back up to your face, “To have someone who would go head to head with me." He finished, his body mere steps away from your own, his body heat seeping into your own skin.

You stared at him.

Bakugo stared back.

You continued to hold the eye contact before he quickly averted his gaze, the tips of his ears flushing a soft red.

"A-Ahem... anyways. Do we go in?" He stammered, motioning to the door. "After you." Bakugo mumbled, pulling the door open, following in at your heels.

"I'll do the talking. Just. Sit still and look pretty, mkay." You mumbled under your breath.

You didn't catch the way Bakugo froze at your words, and you didn’t catch the way a bright red blush began creeping up his neck.

-

"It's so lovely that the both of you decided to take the time out of your busy days and even busier schedules to come speak to me!" the interviewer smiles, chipper and naive as they come. 

She meets your gaze and smiles.

"Ofcourse!" You say back. 

'Well it's not like we got a fucking choice dumbass. It's either this or suffer at the hands of Tommie and his sleep deprived ass.' 

You force a smile. 

Any more time spent in this small ass room with the smell of caramel seeping into the pores of everything might actually make you go homicidal.

Said source of the scent of sugar had his hand placed awkwardly on your thigh, and it was obvious he was uncomfortable with the whole ordeal. Bakugo was sweating and shifting around in his seat and it was clear to you at least - that the Pro Hero would much rather be somewhere else right now.

Picking up on his nervousness you placed a hand on top of his own.

'I'm here for you.'

Bakugo's eyes flickered to your face, and you smiled softly.

"...They tell me they hate me. And they do this? Is this just them telling me to calm the fuck down. Of course it is Katsuki. Pull yourself together idiot. You gotta make a good impression. Sell a story."

Bakugo exhaled softly and looked up at the interviewer.

"So. What do you wanna know."

-

Bakugo dropped his bag on his bedroom floor and ran a hand through his hair frustratingly. "What the fuck was that interview..." He grumbled under his breath.

Being a famous hero meant that he had eyes on him all the time. 

It came with the job of course.

He was used to the stares and the questions and all of it. He could read the interviewers like a book. It wasn't hard.

But you... You were like some sort of enigma. He just couldn't figure you out. You were strange. 

Treating him with so much care and love during the interview. And yet you hated him! You told him yourself! To his face!

But the whole interview… the soft touches, the longing stares, the whole… thing. If Katsuki wasn’t painfully aware of the fact it was all fake, he would’ve believed the whole thing. That you were in love with him.

That you were in love. With him.

“Love… what a fucking joke.”

-> Masterlist

taglist [OPEN] : @luvseraphh - @tlissablr - @havemyheartt - @smelliottle - @sakurayashiro - @peachesvault - @qyuin - @kaidostwin - @wonubby - @moochiwoochi - @coldnightshark - @kalulakunundrum - @sexylexy12 - @rednicotine - @samm1e13 - @kawoala

© HTTPS-BAKUGO. Do not steal, copy or use any of my work for AI. Legal action will take place if caught.

If accepted for MHA : Ibara Shiozaki X Plantmancer Quirk! Male reader. Reader’s parents were killed when he was 4, he was taken in and raised by Midnight. Reader’s quirk is Plantmancer, he can control flowers, plants and nature

hii, i’m not sure if you were wanting a oneshot or a smau, but unfortunately i’m not familiar enough with ibara as a character to feel comfortable in my ability to write for her.

i appreciate the request, thank you for being my first one 🫶🏼. i’m terribly sorry if i disappointed you by not being able to fulfill it 😔.

p.s to anyone else that sees this, as of thirty minutes ago, requests are closed so that i can focus on my current tomura series

Chapter 03.

♡ twenty three

♡ rivals to lovers / fake dating

♡ cw / tw : sort of angst at the end? moment of panic attack though it's minor

You pressed the doorbell and stepped back with a pleasant hum. “I don’t know why you bother ringing that shit. I always barge in whenever I have to fucking come here.” Bakugo grumbled as you both stood in front of the door to his mother’s studio. 

You looked back at him and scoffed. “That would be the nice thing to do Bakugo. You wouldn’t know.”

“Being nice is for pussies.”

“And here comes the attitude.” You mumbled under your breath.

Bakugo whipped his head around and glared at you, “Do you really wanna go? We can go right here right fucking now don’t test me-”

The front door swung open and a middle aged blond woman stepped out, offering you a soft smile, “Oh so you must be my son’s partner please please! Do come in! He never stops talking about you my dear- oh and shoes at the doorstep darling, are you hungry? Thirsty? Anything my son can get for you? Katsuki! Be a good boyfriend and help your partner out!” Mitsuki Bakugo shouted as she pushed the door open wider, ushering both of you inside her studio.

“God fucking damnit you hag! Shut the actual fuck up! You know we’re not actually dating! And they can handle themselves! I don’t gotta do shit for them!” Bakugo shouted at his mother as he tugged off his shoes.

“Bakugo!” You whipped your head around and glared at him, eyes narrowed into slits. “Watch your fucking language when you speak to your fucking mother goddamn it! I’m not risking losing an opportunity like this all because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut you dumb piece of shit!” You hissed back at him.

Bakugo stared at you.

Mitsuki smiled.

Bakugo grumbled as you stepped into the studio, the tips of his ears flushing a soft red as his mother nudged him and grinned. He rolled his eyes and followed behind you, crossing his arms across his chest and looking around.

The studio was unfortunately - or maybe it was fortunately - the same as he remembered it when he was younger; and throughout all the different parts of his life. 

His mother’s desk was placed in the same shitty corner, and those creepy looking mannequins were still standing in every corner that they could possibly be placed without being knocked over - each one was covered in some sort of fabric, some of the outfits were finished, some were still a mess of stitching and needle work. 

There were things on the floor, scraps of fabric and tape measures and the whole place smelted of baked goods, like the oven had just been turned off and if he squinted - he could see a small Katsuki and Izuku, reaching for the caramel and chocolate chip cookies behind Mitsuki’s back - before two simultaneous wails would break her out of her thought. She would have to end up putting her needle down and pulling her glasses off her face before tending to the two boys, one whom she scolded and the other whom she carefully doted over.

That particular memory brought a small smile to Bakugo’s face.

He looked around more before his eyes met a small area in the back of the studio which he had dubbed “The hero’s corner” as a child. 

When he was younger he would sit on the floor and play with his action figures. When he started school the toys were replaced with notebooks and pens. He remembered one instance, during first year of highschool, where he was perched in his chair, furiously scribbling in his journal, (He was much too prideful to call it a diary) about you. Pages upon pages wasted as he ranted about how much he hated you. 

The strangest part? 

He had a nagging feeling that he really didn’t hate you-

Nope. Not going down that train of thought today. Thanks a lot Eijirou for putting that idea in my head in the first place. I hope you’re hit by a fucking train shitty hair.

“Katsuki are you even listening!” Mitsuki shouted at Bakugo who snapped back to reality, whipping his head back around and glaring at his mother.

“Shut up you hag! I don’t even know why the fuck I’m here! You already have all of my fucking measurements from when I was fucking born why do I gotta be here for?” He snapped back, fists clenched. Every moment he spent with you in his general vicinity was fucking torture and he felt like he was drowning. The smell of your perfume or shampoo or whatever the fuck you were wearing that he was smelling was slowly killing him here. 

"Y'know what fuck it I'm stepping outside for some air. It smells like shit in here. Open a window or something." Bakugo sighed, shaking his head as he stepped outside, sitting on the stairs.

He ran a hand through his ashy blond hair.

“Fucking shit Shitty Hair.” He hissed under his breath.

-

"This is going to suck so much ass." You sighed.

"Yep."

"Why do I gotta do this shit with you?"

"I'd be damned if I knew." Bakugo mumbled.

Your outfit was stunning and damn, did you feel stunning. Mitsuki really outdid herself when it came to the outfit. It was such a shame that it had to be used on Bakugo of all people. You nervously wiped your hands down your outfit, you had been to a few of these gala’s in the past - hero work tended to come with a lot more rubbing shoulders then you had been led to expect. “How long do we have to be doing this?” You whispered, turning to meet Bakugo’s stern gaze as he stared straight ahead. He clenched his jaw and shrugged. 

“Until the press gets what they want I guess.” He mumbled. He didn’t know how long it would take for them to get here - or when they would leave. When they drain us of our blood. For fuck’s sake. I don’t want to be here. I’d rather be at home right now. Or at the gym. Or god knows where.

Bakugo clenched his jaw, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he forced himself to stare straight ahead. It was suffocating being in here. He thought the studio was bad? His sports car was a million times worse.

You were so fucking close. If he turned his head just a little bit to the side he would be able to point out and count each individual blemish on your face. 

The car reeked of whatever you were wearing. 

Again, not in a bad way. But shit - Bakugo was drowning.

Like he had been caught up in a rip and he was trying so fucking hard to swim to the sides - to safety but you were there and you were smiling at him, looking at him with those eyes and you grabbed him by the leg and forced his head under.

The worst part was that he knew it was going to get worse for him.

And it was all Kirishima’s fault. He was the one that planted this stupid idea in his head in the first place - if he had kept his big mouth shut Bakugo wouldn’t be here worrying about mending a broken relationship.

Shit.

You were going to be the death of him.

He sighed as the sleek sports car pulled up the venue. “Let me get the door for you.” Bakugo mumbled.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “What a gentleman.” You muttered under your breath as your ‘date’ stepped outside and pulled the door open for you. He reached for your hand but you slapped it away, throwing a glare at him.

“Don’t. I can handle myself.” You hissed under your breath.

Bakugo scoffed and pulled away, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in. “Did you forget? We gotta put on a show for these blood hungry demons society calls paparazzi. I don’t wanna be doing this shit either but it’s not like we have a fucking choice anyways. So pull that fucking stick out of your ass and take my fucking hand.”

You sighed defeatedly and debated your options, mulling a few thoughts in your head before you reached for Bakugo’s hand, holding your piercing glare as he intertwined his fingers with your own. He met your eyes and a silent understanding sparked between you both.

An hour. Tops. In and out. Give the press what they want so they can bump up our image. And then get the fuck out of there.

“Glad to see we agree on something…” Bakugo mumbled under his breath as he led you up the stairs, the flash of the cameras blinding him. A deep scowl etched into his face as he huffed.

You nudged him softly, meeting his gaze. “Smile.” You whispered as you both stepped up against the doors. “And stop stepping on my shoe.” You hissed. 

Bakugo rolled his eyes. 

You both smiled as the cameras flashed away, draining you of your essence. Of what made you both - fundamentally - you.

By the end of the night you would be a piece of gossip. An image on the newspapers. The name rolled off the tongue of a jealous fan. The name whispered in adoration of an obsessive stalker. A name.

A title.

Bakugo’s eyes flickered to your face for a moment before his arm snaked around your waist and gave you a soft squeeze. I’m here for you.

“Are you good?” Bakugo whispered as he led you inside. “You looked kinda out of it.” 

“I hate the paparazzi.” You mumbled as he led you up the stairs. 

“Yeah well. You don’t gotta worry about em too much in here.” He shrugged, letting his arm drop when the flashing lights were out of view. “Chill out with your friends, do whatever I dunno. I’ll text you at eleven to pick you up and go home. Alright?” Bakugo gave you a one over, eyes flickering from your face down to your body and then back up to your face.

The stare made you slightly self conscious. 

Don’t look at me like that. 

You huffed, raising your arms to your chest, nodding as you averted your gaze.

Bakugo stared at you, a small frown tugging at his lips. “Right uh.. Be safe I guess.” He mumbled.

You nodded. “Yea… uh you too?”

-

“You’re out here? Shouldn’t you be inside?” Bakugo’s voice came out as gruff as he stepped out onto the balcony. You didn’t bother turning around as he moved to stand beside you. You took in a deep inhale of the fresh night air.

It was biting against your arms.

“Yea… I got tired of being there. My social battery is a little low today so y'know? I just needed the space.” You mumbled, not bothered to explain your reasons for staying outside to the likes of Bakugo.

He merely nodded as he wordlessly stared up at the sky. “Can I ask you something?” 

“You already did.”

“Something else idiot.”

You snorted, covering it up with a cough. “Yea go ahead.” 

“You hate me.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an observation. 

You hated Bakugo. 

You hated his ego. 

You hated his pride. 

You hated the way he made you feel like a pebble in his path to success. 

You hated his anger. 

You hated the way he had changed. 

You hated how he tried to remedy things. 

You hated the way his eyes sparked. 

You hated the way he spoke to you - so soft and delicate, like a flower losing its petals.

You hated him.

A chill ran up your arms, and you rubbed them softly. Did I forget my coat in the car? I got so worked up over the whole gala I forgot my coat!

You were about to curse out loud at your stupidity - but before you were able to, you were enveloped by a soft caramel scent mixed with something spicy? Cinnamon?

“You’re shivering.” Bakugo pointed out. “You left your coat in the car.”

You huffed, pulling his suit jacket closer. “Thanks…” You mumbled looking up at the sky. “Do you… like the stars?” You looked over at Bakugo who was staring up at the inky void. The light pollution was annoying, you could barely see a thing, but the small little dots that you did see would lift your spirits anyways.

Even if most of them were dead.

“I do.” He nodded. “You didn’t answer my question.” He turned to you. “Do you hate me?”

You went silent for a moment, pulling the jacket closer and looking back up. “Yea.”

“Yea. I think… I hate you.”

-> Masterlist

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