"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?" - 𝐊. 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨
𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨: This story is Slowburn, follows a couple of months after the epilogue and is accurate/realistic.
WARNING: My writing style is very detailed, so if you aren't into d...
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-2nd person pov-
November 27th, Monday - 8:24 pm
The air in the dining room felt warm and settled, the kind of atmosphere that came after a good meal.
When stomachs were full, the conversation had slowed, and everyone sat in that comfortable lull of post-dinner relaxation.
The soft clinking of utensils was the only real sound, aside from the occasional deep sigh of satisfaction from your dad or the quiet tapping of Hasuke’s fingers against the table.
Most of you had finished eating, but everyone still sat around the table, too full to move just yet.
Your dad pushed his plate away with a satisfied sigh. "Alright, I gotta hand it to you, honey—this one’s a winner."
Your mom smiled proudly. "Glad you liked it."
Bakugo, still leaning back in his chair, rolled his shoulders slightly. "Yeah. It was pretty good.”
Your mom smiled. "Only after you helped adjust the seasoning."
Bakugo smirked slightly. "What can I say?”
Your mom just shook her head, amused.
Your dad sighed, pushing his chair back slightly. "Alright," he said, patting his stomach. "Guess it’s time to clean up."
Your mom nodded in agreement as she stood, gathering a few empty plates. "Yeah, yeah, I’ll help. You guys just sit tight."
"You sure?" Hasuke asked, shifting slightly like he was about to stand.
Your mom waved him off. "Yes, yes, just sit and digest, will you?"
Your dad chuckled as he grabbed a few more dishes, stacking them neatly.
Hasuke sighed and stayed put, leaning back in his chair.
You watched as your parents headed toward the kitchen, the sound of running water filling the quiet left behind.
That left just you, Hasuke, and Bakugo at the table.
Bakugo, who had been leaning back in his chair, sat still and quiet, one arm resting on the table, the other draped lazily over the back of his chair.
His crimson gaze flicked briefly toward the kitchen before lowering again, his expression unreadable.
It was a rare moment of calm, almost peaceful.
But something about it felt like a pause—like Bakugo wasn’t planning on sticking around much longer.
Even so, you leaned back in your chair, your body naturally shifting into autopilot.
