When Heroes Collide - Bakugou X Reader Slow Burn

Chapter 106: Realisation

"You have a weird concept of hate," I muttered, still breathless, still tasting the heat of his kiss. I blinked at him, confused and utterly baffled by the situation

He didn't answer immediately. His red eyes were steady, studying me like I was the most complicated thing he'd ever had to solve—like he didn't have the words to explain what was boiling beneath his skin.

"Hating something... is a lot stronger than liking something, right?"

I stared at him for a long while, trying to piece it together myself.

Maybe he wasn't trying to hurt me with that word. Maybe "hate" in his language... wasn't the opposite of love. Maybe it was just another form of passion—twisted, raw, too big to fit neatly into softer words. It wasn't exactly a confession, but it felt like one. Maybe he felt too much. Maybe that was the problem.

"You're an idiot," he said finally, voice low, gruff. But his hands were careful when he reached out again, like touching me was sacred. "Lie down."

I hesitated.

"Oi," he snapped, already regretting the softness in his tone. "Don't make me say it again."

So I laid down.

The sheets were still warm from where he'd been moments ago. He moved behind me, his presence magnetic. My heart thudded louder with every inch he got closer. Then—

"Turn around."

His voice was quieter now, just above a whisper. I turned, slow and unsure, expecting to face him—but he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"No. The other way."

Confused, I turned onto my side, back facing him.

I felt the bed dip as he shifted closer. Then came the heat of his chest pressing against my back, the solid weight of his arm sliding around my waist like it belonged there. He pulled me in, not roughly, but firmly—like he needed to make sure I wouldn't disappear again.

My breath caught.

We hadn't done this before. Not like this. Not quiet. Not close. Not... gentle. Not after... kissing.

His hand settled just beneath my ribs, fingers splayed wide, thumb brushing slow circles over the fabric of my shirt like it was muscle memory. Like he did this all the time in his head and was only now letting himself try it in real life.

"We've still got time before we have to finish packing," he whispered near my ear. His breath was warm. It made me shiver. I didn't answer right away. I didn't trust my voice.

His grip didn't tighten, but something about the way he held me felt... possessive. Not in a bad way—just in the way that said mine without having to say it out loud.

I swallowed. "Is this okay?"

He didn't respond for a moment, then mumbled, "It's not. But I'm doing it anyway."

My heart fluttered, once again with slight confusion.

"Don't overthink it, dumbass," he added quickly, voice muffled by my hair. "Just shut up and stay like this."

I bit back a smile he couldn't see and let my body sink into his, letting the silence stretch between us like a secret only we knew. For the first time in a long time, the world felt quiet.

And even if I didn't understand everything yet—even if I was still trying to make sense of last night, of him, of us—I knew one thing:

He didn't hate me.

Not even close.

We laid there for a while longer, quiet and tangled in each other like we didn't belong to the rest of the world. His breathing slowed behind me, and I almost thought he might fall asleep again. But then—