#bkg so happened to be perfect 👍🏻

[shibaraki]

OUR NORMAL ┊ BAKUGO KATSUKI

tags: GN reader, older pro hero bakugo, reader and bakugo are in their late thirties, bestfriends to life partners, no sexualities stated, queerplatonic relationships, discussions of the future, fluff and casual affection

wc: 1.2k

Everything is warm. The early morning breeze as it skims your cheek, lighter than the heavy blanket strewn across your lap, cooler than the thumb tracing over the back of your hand.

Bakugo Katsuki felt like an extension of yourself. You loved him intensely. Not familial, not romantic. A little out of the norm, his father would say. This thing between you had never been clarified; it never needed to be. More than a best friend and not quite lovers. Your relationship wasn’t a case of one or the other, there was no part of a map that your finger could fall and detail the journey.

It just was.

Only an hour ago you had crawled out of bed and padded into the kitchen with the pillow case still impressed on your face, rubbing at the swell of affection ballooning behind your fourth rib. Side stepping toward the coffee maker, he’d met your eyes with the beginnings of a tired smile in the short moment your bodies mirrored one another.

Plates in hand, without words he would ask, Balcony?

Decaf with sweetener, light on the milk. You, holding a pair of matching mugs, will nod. Yes.

Breakfast eaten in quiet contentment, you sink back into the cushioned porch swing and enjoy the gentle swaying motion. Now an integral part of your daily routine, it is big and gaudy and not at all suitable for the space. Even still, he had let you buy it.

Hands entwined in your lap, your head lolls onto his shoulder. Katsuki’s breathing doesn’t change, nor do his sights flicker to the movement. Peering up at him from his angle provides you with the generous opportunity of drinking in his aging features.

There’s light stubble shading his jawline, which has softened over the years. Cutting through his right eyebrow to his temple is a jagged line of scar tissue, and another, fainter, diagonally over the bridge of his nose. The crows feet by his eyes deepen when he smiles, when he bares his teeth, when he laughs; as do the lines by his mouth.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you murmur. A grin tugs at your lips. “The big three nine. I can’t believe you’ll be forty next year”.

He snorts, jostling you slightly. “Speak for yourself. Hell, I can’t believe you’ve been bothering me for nearly two decades”.

“Like a rash,” you exhale an airy, pleased sigh as you solemnly nod. “You like it”.

A younger Katsuki would have forcefully pushed the swing chair back and sent your body reeling with a loud cackle to distract from the answer written so plainly on his face. Now he simply turns his lips to your temple and says, “Debatable”.

You hum contentedly, a deep sense of belonging settling in your bones. It would strike any other person watching as unusual — for years now your relationship with Katsuki had been built up by small intimacies and intense commitment that most only ever attributed to romance, yet still the two of you insisted it was nothing of the sort.

And it wasn’t. There had been plenty others; some of which you still talk to from time to time; those who parted ways with you amicably wearing a sad, knowing smile; others that pointed an accusatory finger and fled. You cared for Katsuki in such a way that it intimidated the people around you, and drove them off.

They all told you the same thing verbatim: Friends don’t act like that.

Your nails strum nervously against the ceramic mug as you watch the young family in the complex across from you gather on their own balcony to eat breakfast. The interlocked hands in your lap feel that much heavier.

“So. What’re we gonna tell your parents this year?” you cautiously prod, knowing he had never been a fan of these conversations. “Your mother still thinks you’re lying to her about us out of spite”.

“There’s nothing to tell them. S’not like we’re a proper couple,” he replies with a shrug, cadence smooth and low, as if it were just an inoffensive truth. As if he had never thought anything more of it.

Usually you’d laugh it off and agree. Because Katsuki was right in a sense — you were not a couple. Yet you ask, “Aren’t we?”

The sunlight pools in his iris and it glows when he glances at you from the corner of his eye. Izuku once admitted that he thinks you make Kacchan softer but you’re more inclined to believe the reverse. A simmering, constant source of warmth. Katsuki has always been synonymous with comfort.

“That isn’t a discussion I recall having,” he rasps, still a little sleep worn.

You huff a laugh, knocking your head against his shoulder, “I know. I just… we are. A pair, I mean”.

A small sound of contemplation rumbles in his throat as his gaze returns to the bruised horizon. A crease forms across the bridge of his nose and you quell the urge to touch it. One, two, three, your attention is drawn to the rhythmic tap of his finger against his empty mug. “A pair?”

“Yeah. We go together,” you feel a smile curling at the corner of your lips. “You’re important to me, and you’re my partner. We practically spent our lives together. What else would you call it?”

You watch the emotions pass over his face as he processes your answer. “Dunno,” he eventually breathes. “There was never a label to stick on it. We were always just us”.

You feel yourself simper, ducking to tuck your cheek closer to his shoulder, nuzzling into him. The gentle scent of body wash and fabric softener clouds your senses. “Just us,” you repeat quietly. “…Do you ever see that changing?”

His jaw clicks shut and he shakes his head in disagreement. The stubble on his chin rubs against your skin. Emboldened, you continue, “So why not just spend what’s left of our lives together, like this?”

His thumb slides over your third knuckle and idly skims the empty space on your ring finger. Even the media had been bugging him about 'proposing' to you, despite never confirming a relationship in the first place. At some point he had simply given up on correcting them.

“We can’t. It’s not…”

“Normal?”

Katsuki grunts. The wrinkle between his brow deepens with his frown, and there are faint dimples in his chin that are only ever visible when he pouts. “It’d be our normal,” you offer lightly. “We already share an apartment. A life. Nothing would need to be different”.

“I really don’t see myself caring about someone romantically as much as I care about you, Katsuki”.

When Katsuki feels embarrassed his entire body announces it. He scoffs harshly, shifting in his seat as he turns his head away from you to hide the pale flush of pink staining his cheeks. You fall into a comfortable, albeit pensive silence. Now was the time to back away and allow him time to file through his thoughts. Despite having mellowed out in his later years, he still struggled with finding the right words from time to time.

Clink. He sets the empty mug down on the small glass table, free hand returning to pick at the seam of his sweatpants. The porch swing begins to move again. Pushing the heel of his foot to the ground, Katsuki languidly rocks your bodies back and forth.

“The old hag wouldn’t get it,” he murmurs.

The knots of anticipation slowly untangle from your ribs and breathing comes a little easier. “She doesn’t have to,” you reply. “But I think she’ll be happy to know we have each other. Your dad, too”.

Those sharp, carmine eyes meet yours once more. “Yeah?” he asks.

You nod, “Yeah”.

#bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #just something about myself that I wanted to express in fic #bkg so happened to be perfect 👍🏻 #again this is my own experience with QPR #if u come in my inbox saying some BS I will block u