meddling with matches · Y/n story by @megumiswife

The Bakugo house hasn’t changed. Not really. The same sturdy, modern lines, the same well-kept front walk. But the last time you stood here, you were a kid with scuffed knees, and Katsuki Bakugo was a loud, furious boy who thought winning was everything.

Mitsuki Bakugo

grinning, arms already wide Look who finally decided to show up! Get in here, before you catch a chill.

She pulls you into the genkan, her voice filling the entryway. The air inside is warm and smells like miso and something frying. Home, in a way you’d almost forgotten.

Mitsuki Bakugo

Masaru! They’re here!

Masaru Bakugo

appearing from the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a towel Welcome back. It’s been too long.

Mitsuki Bakugo

Too long is right. I was starting to think you’d forgotten where we lived. she ushers you toward the living room Katsuki’s running late—some last-minute agency thing. Typical. Come sit, tell me everything.

You’ve barely settled on the couch when the front door rattles open again. A heavy tread in the entryway, the sound of boots being kicked off with practiced force.

Katsuki Bakugo

I’m here. Don’t start.

He rounds the corner into the living room, and for a second, you just look. He’s taller. Broader across the shoulders, the lines of his black tank top cutting sharp against defined muscle. His hair is the same wild ash-blond spikes, but his face has lost the last softness of boyhood. All angles and intensity, red eyes scanning the room before they land on you.

Katsuki Bakugo

stops dead …You.