Unveiled Winds || Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Chapter 58 - What I Want

The first thing you felt was the cool stretch of sheets beside you.

Your hand moved instinctively, reaching across the mattress, searching for the warmth that wasn't there. Only empty space.

Blinking against the soft morning light, you lay still for a moment, letting the quiet settle around you. The memory from last night pulled at the edges of your mind, slow and unhurried, as if it wanted you to stay in it a little longer.

You remembered the sound of his footsteps outside your door, low and deliberate. Then the faint creak of the mattress as Bakugou climbed in beside you. No hesitation, just the weight of him settling close, the faint heat of his body seeping into yours.

He'd wrapped an arm around your waist, his palm splayed warm against your side, thumb brushing the fabric of your shirt like he was making sure you were real. You'd breathed him in, the scent of smoke and something sharper, grounding you in a way words never could.

Neither of you spoke. He didn't need to. Just stayed there, steady and solid, until your own breathing matched his, and sleep had pulled you under.

You stayed there, fingers brushing the crease where his body had been, eyes half-shut against the soft morning light.

And then... the things you'd told him. Not all of it, never all of it, but enough that it had felt like peeling away a layer you'd been hiding under for far too long. Enough to leave you wondering what he was thinking when you'd finally drifted off.

You didn't get far with that thought.

A sudden weight landed square on your back, making you jolt.

"Muta—" you groaned, muffled into the pillow as tiny paws kneaded through the blanket. His meow was sharp, almost offended, like you'd been inconsiderate for sleeping this long.

You twisted onto your side, the cat clambering up to perch on your shoulder as if he owned the place—because, in his mind, he did. His tail flicked lazily across your cheek, his low purr rumbling against your ear like he was trying to hurry you along.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, scratching under his chin.

That's when you heard it.

A faint metallic clang, followed by the scrape of something against the counter. Then the muted thud of a cupboard shutting. The sounds carried easily through the quiet morning, paired with the faint, almost imperceptible scent of something warm, eggs maybe? Or coffee.

You blinked the last traces of sleep from your eyes, rubbing at them with the heel of your hand. Muta hopped down with a disgruntled chirp as you swung your legs over the side of the bed.

The floor was cool under your bare feet as you padded toward the door, following the quiet rhythm of noise from the kitchen. But the second you stepped into the living room, you slowed.

The apartment... was clean.

Papers that had once been scattered across the coffee table were stacked in neat piles. The couch cushions, previously slouched and buried under a jacket or two, were straightened. Even the stray case files that had been spread open across the floor, your frantic notes about the fire in smudged ink, were gone from sight.

You stopped in the middle of the room, blinking once.

...Did he—?

Your gaze drifted toward the kitchen before the thought could fully finish, drawn by another soft clang of metal against metal.

And then you saw him.

Bakugou stood with his back to you, shirtless, moving with sharp, efficient precision between the stove and counter. A pan hissed softly under his hand, the faint scent of butter and something savoury curling through the air.