Word Count: No idea, typing this at 2:30 AM from the mobile app haha
Request: Nope!
Warnings: Mild Smut, Angst, TW: Alcohol
Summary: Your a pro hero who’s been working her ass off to be in the top picks. To maintain that, you train at a Hero’s Only Training Ground to hone your Quirk alongside mentor Aizawa who’s bees helping you ever since you graduated high and college, but you’ve become a bit distracted by the most unlikely person to your friends… and of course, you drunk text him.
A/N: Heyo! I haven’t written a fic in a LONG time, so bear with me, please. I got this idea from a tiktok on Instagram based off of a line in Melanie Harlow’s book “Make Me Yours”. I haven’t proofread this yet, I’ll do that in the morning, and I think I may make a part two!
Being a pro hero was hard as it is, but you knew that Training Day was only getting harder and harder.
Not because you were struggling with your quirk, no not at all. In fact, Aizawa has made it clear that you were hitting a plateau and needed to consider making your training sessions a bit more challenging to try and push yourself out of the spot you were in. And even though you agreed with him, and understood what needed to be done, you also knew that meant you’d have to rotate from your training area which… would break your line of sight of him.
At first, you only noticed him when he became loud and obnoxious. Really leaning into the explosive behavior like he even needed to reassure anyone of who he was or what his hero name stood for. The area he was working on was a bit ahead of yours and to the side. You had a clear view of him, but he’d have to be turning around to even see you, which made this spot all the more irreplaceable. Your eyes could drift and wander to places they shouldn’t be and… no one was the wiser. You had memorized your training routine perfectly, throwing one punch after the other at the punching bag without even having to watch to see if they connected properly. This way, your eyes could be watching his training instead.
You admired how he put his all into every session he committed to. He didn’t work his way towards stronger hits over time or slowly try to progress through new maneuvers and feats, he just.. went for it. Bursting forward with all the momentum he could muster, his voice deep and full of determination as he shouted out his anguish while ascending on his target. Blow after blow causing explosive reactions that sent the sweet smell of caramel wafting throughout the training ground with hazes of black smoke in its wake. You hated how distracting that smell was at first but you’ve come to love it now. Yearn for it. The smell hits all strong you could almost taste it, and at its most palpable, it sent your head swirling with thinking of all the ways you wanted to get closer to him.
How much longer were you going to be able to keep this training rouse up until Aizawa intervened? How much more of just watching him work could you even take? More importantly, how much longer could you stop your lewd thoughts from intruding on your training sessions? With each punch you connected to that bag, your head started to overlay that heavy, thudding sound over visions of a headboard pounding up against the wall over and over. The chain’s rattled became the accompanying squeak of the mattress spring, and your rough pants and heavy breaths were slowly becoming his making. He’d be on top of you, one hand gripping your thigh against his chest while the other held onto your hip. He’d be slamming into your wet folds with a meticulous thrust that had your toes curling and your eyes glued to his. He’d warn you not to look away. If you looked away, he’d stop. He’d slow down to an achingly slow pace and you needed all that he could give you in that moment. Your eyes would be locked onto his, your breath rising higher and higher the closer you became and he’d… he’d…
You’ve had to catch yourself a few times before like this from dazing out completely during a workout at the thought of it. Each time your thighs would tremble, you’d clear tour throat, and focus back up, but you knew this had to come to a head at some point. This couldn’t stay in your head for much longer… and with the cow you made to yourself after you got out of bed, you knew that today: even was enough.
With all the strength you had left you channeled your quirk and slowed down the time and space around you to land your new max of three hits per second. You released your hold at just the right time that the impact of all three hits sent that bag flying down the course, slamming into a brick wall at the end. You got a few head turns your way with a few of your classmates cheering you on and pumping you up as you took the moment to catch your breath. You hadn’t realized it, but you were drenched in sweat. Your tank top was wet all over you back, neckline stuck to your skin, and your leggings didn’t even feel like you are wearing any at this point. And all the while, as you softly laughed at your friends and colleagues for their kind remarks and accolades, you only briefly were able to catch that piercing red glance from him.
You swear you almost wanted to activa te your quirk again just to last in that gaze just a little while longer. His back soaked with sweat, his hair dripping down his neck and forehead, just to see that eye staring at you from over his shoulder. The contact lasted for less than you ever wanted it to, but just as quickly as he looked at you, he was focused back on his targets even quicker.
You left the training grounds knowing what needed to be done tonight. And your friends were quick to help you prepare…
“Wait, wait wait…” Mina took another long drink of her wine, “Bakugou?! That’s the one you want??”
Momo and Tsuyu burst out laughing at her. “Mina, I swear we told you this before!” Momo giggled, “Y/N’s had her eye on him for a while~”
“I mean I get it, but… THAT HOT HEAD?! I thought we were talking about someone like Shouto or something!”
“Haha, no, sorry, Mina, I just… can’t explain it.” You started to mess with your hair before your eyes started to get lost in the cup before you, “Sure, we don’t really talk other than about things like form or job postings, but there’s just something about him that makes me want to know him… more.”
“Well then I think texting him is a great idea!” Said a slight inebriated Momo, “Maybe you two can start up a chat and find some common ground that way”
“Or just tell him how you feel, that might for well!” Tsuyu added, “But knowing Bakugou, either approach might time some time to truly benefit you”
Slamming down her bottle, Mina burst out with “Well either way, that’s what the liquid courage is for! So drink up, lady!” Causing the girls to giggle and toast as you all started to toss it back with conversations about what each other were going through with jobs at the moment.
Hours later though, you were now the only one up at your place. Momo had passed out on the couch, toppled by Mina, with Tsuyu conked out on the floor. Now at peek drunkness, you knew this was your shot. This was your chance to start up the conversation with Bakugou, telling him that you wanted to hang out sometime and get to know each other better. So just before passing out yourself, you crafted your text, and hit send. Quickly you launched your phone away from you, and slept until morning.
With the sun as your alarm clock, you woke up sometime in the afternoon to an empty home. Momo, Mina, and Tsuyu had headed up earlier in the morning and left you a note saying “Sorry we passed out before we helped with the text! We’re still here to help! xoxo” You smiled as you put it down, thinking back to how the night ended until you froze. The memory of drafting a text came flooding into your head and you quickly went searching for your phone. It took you about 10 minutes until you found it and then when you did… you wished you hadn’t. What you sent wasn’t anything like what you intended, and what was worse of all, was that they all went left on read.
To: Bakugou Katsuki
From: Y/N Y/L/N
- Bakugou, I can’t take it anymore….. im so tired of jsut watching you work& get all sweaty&& messy!It’s fucking time we handled this!…
- Yu knw what I’m talkng about, too. I saw you look @ me 2day…
- You wanna fuck me JUST as bad as I wanna fuk you, hmm? You want this pussy, don’t you, baby
- I know you do, and I relly wanna give it 2 yu
- You smell so sweet, bby. Like candy. I’ll treat your dick like a lollipopp … I’ll lick it from bse to tip. Your balls can be lke cherries, hmm?
- I’ll put them in my mouth an
“Ohhh nononononononono” you muttered as you read through all that you had sent. You thought this can’t be serious, you can’t EVER show your face now. You hurriedly took screenshots and sent them to the girls who had about the reactions you were expecting, if you’re honest with yourself. Mins thought it was all hilarious. Tsuyu was trying to explain the likelihood that Bakugou would have actually cared, and Momo tried to give you additional silver linings and things you can try to do to mitigate the damage.
Momo: Send him a “Sorry about that, please disregard these” text!
Mina: Noooo, nonono, tell him “oops, wrong person”
Tsuyu: Mina, the first text has the man’s name in it. Y/N, how bout you just tell him you were drunk and you didn’t mean it?
Their advice rummaged around your head all day. Working some of your jobs today took your mind from it all, but it only took a billboard or a poster to hVe it all flooding back to you. You checked your phone a few times throughout the day to see if thee was any response and to just… contemplate who’s advice you should even take. Momo had a good point, Mina… Nevermind, and Tsuyu had a good idea, too. But even when you pulled the chat up and readied your fingers to start to compose something, anything, you froze and just… put the phone away.
It went like this all day until you finally closed out for the day. Going to the training grounds with the other heroes was a no go, today, and maybe.. ever. Could you really show your face there again? Have Bakugou glaring at you while you do your sets? What a nightmare to even consider. So, you sent off a text to Aizawa telling him you wouldn’t be there today, and headed home to unwind and just rest from the insane 48 hours you’ve had.
It wasn’t until later that night that you had finally cemented on what you were going to say.
Momo’s suggestion just felt like it would work out best, so after only a few glasses of wine after a warm, cleansing shower, you pulled up the text to compose and…
Bakugou is typing…
“Nooooo nonononono!” You stared with wide eyes at your phone. You waited too long! You were convinced he was going to call you a freak. A weirdo. Say you were “down bad” and just another extra in the background of his life. You were pacing your room, panicked at what terrible comment he was about to make when you finally heard that notification ping on your phone.
To: Y/N Y/L/N
From: Bakugou Katsuki
- Don’t end the scenario now. Tell me, Y/N.
- What happens next?
- I didn’t think you had noticed me staring at you while you worked. Your form, the way your clothes stuck to your body after a long, hard session…
- I know you probably sent this while being drunk or something, but I’m hoping this is truly how you feel, because if so
Dynamightcame crashing through the ER doors with a scowl on his face. The nurses at the front desk sat back in their chairs when his fiery eyes fixated on them.
“Where is she?” he demanded loudly. “Fucking speak!”
“W-who, sir?”
He rolled his eyes and slammed his fist down on the desk, splintering the wood beneath. “(F/n L/n), dumbass! Ain’t many other people I’d fucking be here for!”
Moments later, Katsukiwas lumbering through the pulmonary ward of the hospital, his shoulders flexing as his gauntlets swung at his sides, gritting his teeth and growling at anyone who stood between him and the door of your hospital room.
One nurse started to ask for his identification until another nurse put their hand on her shoulder and shook their head no.
He’d talked the talk and walked the walk but when he turned the door handle to enter your room, he did so with such a careful, fluid motion so as not to wake you if you were sleeping.
He held onto the door as it closed behind him, letting it latch with a quiet click before turning it loose. He took one graceful stride after another, his heavy boots hitting the tiled floor like feathers as he moved in closer to your motionless body.
Katsuki Bakugou was a hard man, tough as nails and always ready to take on whatever threat or villain or challenge life could possibly throw at him head first. What he wasn’t prepared for was some nameless, faceless enemy that had taken up residence in your body. Probably tiny - microscopic, even - and hiding in places he could never see. He felt helpless. Powerless.
He gingerly removed the gauntlet from his right arm and delicately set it down on the floor beside his feet, his scarlet eyes never leaving your form in the process.
He could hear your labored breaths even as he remembered his promise to himself going into this: that he wouldn’t fucking cry. But he stood corrected, one tear…then another falling onto the clean, white sheet next to the tube that had been medically inserted into your lung to keep it inflated.
He took your limp hand into his - hard, rough, calloused, and shaking - and kissed your forehead. “I don’t know what the fuck this is, baby, but once I find out I’m gonna kick it in it’s tiny, shitty balls and make it wish it never found you.”
for@xviternity You’ve made so much art for me…now it’s my turn. . I hope you feel better soon!
He instantly relaxes seeing your curled up figure on the couch. Bakugo strips himself off his hero gear by the door, leaving the heavy gauntlets, knee pads, boots and mask by the foyer.
He lies next to you and gently takes you in his arms. Bakugo smiles to himself at how even in your sleep, you turn and melt against him without hesitation. Who knew it would be this nice to have someone waiting for you to come home? He thinks idly as he touches your cheek. He really thought he wasn’t one for relationships. Always thought it would be such a drag but when you came along, it’s as if everything fell into place. You made his life more meaningful. You made everything easier. Except getting you to sleep in the bedroom when he’s not home yet. He rolls his eyes and sighs.
Bakugo wishes you would stop falling asleep in his stiff couch like this. He hates seeing you rubbing your neck when you get all sore the following morning. He grumbles ‘idiot’ under his breath then kisses your nose. At this, you finally stir awake.
“Welcome home.” You murmur before you could get your eyes to open, leaning closer to press your lips against the base of his jaw.
“I told you not to wait up.” He scolds, feeling your icy fingers against his skin when you try to reach for his face. Bakugo obliges and leans down to meet your lips for a kiss nonetheless, his fingers carding through your locks to tame how wild your hair had gotten from your nap. “Why are you so fucking stubborn?”
“Can’t sleep in the bedroom without you anyway.” You grumble. Bakugo feels his face heat up and he hides it by burying his face in your hair.
Feeling more awake now, you turn in the cramped space on the couch to look at him. You chuckle seeing him stripped down to just his boxers and tank top. You pat his waist and nuzzle his neck, asking, “Do you want to eat? I made your favorite."
Before Bakugo could answer though, you were already getting up to head for the kitchen. Truth be told, he would rather spend more time cuddling with you. But he was starving and you cook his favorite dish the best. A close contender to his own cooking. Sometimes you do get it right and it’s even a fuckton better.
Not that he’d ever tell you. Wouldn’t want you getting ahead of yourself.
Bakugo watches contentedly as you went on to reheat the food and set up the table, a gentle smile subconsciously gracing his face. His home soon smells of your cooking and he sinks further back on the couch where your scent and your warmth still lingers. All he could think of was, this is home. And that if this is what the rest of his life looks like? Then he’s lucked out.
"Why are you staring at me like that?” You giggle.
“Hey, quit staring.”
“Katsuki.”
“Katsuki!” She giggles. “I said, do you want your ramen extra spicy?"
Bakugo snaps out of his trance. He blinks and looks around.
Tired crimson eyes rake his 'new’ apartment.
His heart drops to his stomach as he realizes this is his reality now.. He takes a shaky breath as he meets Ochako’s gaze.
Right.
He plasters on a small smile and says, "Yeah,” He finds himself swallowing a lump that has formed in his throat. “S-sure."
Bakugo then turns around, lifelessly walking back to the living area.
The smell of new furniture hung thick in the air, the hint of fresh paint made his nose itch despite the aroma diffusers delicately placed all around the home. Peppermint and incense, just as he likes it. But that didn’t diminish the scalding ache in his chest brought about by the phantosmia of your scent that he sorely misses.
His old uncomfortable couch was replaced by a new one. He could practically sink in it at how soft it is. It felt like clouds. But he knew deep down, would rather have his old one..
He glances around and barely recognises the place. Everything was new. Every item of memory he had of you, gone. And this was what he wanted. Right? Why he gave Ochako the go to redesign his place however she wanted?
Bakugo only realizes he was scowling when made an effort to soften his expression when he sees Ochako walk over to him. She circles her arms around his waist, cheek squishing against his bicep as she asks, "Do you not like it?”
He met her hopeful gaze and shook his head. “No. It’s perfect. Thank you.” And it is, really. How can it not be when she spent months and months patiently showing him varieties of designs as she puts this home together? Making sure she only gets what he approves or even remotely makes him smile.
Uraraka Ochako was a dream. She picked up the broken pieces that were him when you left. She is kind, understanding and loves him unconditionally.
She is a dream and you were the nightmare that haunts him even when he is wide awake. You are no longer in his life but you still cling unto him through his memories of you that he just can’t seem to let go.
Through the what ifs that rot his brain.
Through glimpses of what had been and could have beens.
