BNHA/MHA Scenarios + Headcanons

Model! Bakugo x Photographer! Reader

The bright warm lights, the click of the camera shutter, all eyes focused on him; the feeling should be familiar by now, should be second nature to pose on command and flash a false smile. Bakugo excelled at two very specific things: modeling for amazing photos, and faking every glamorous expression of satisfaction and happiness people stared at within the pages of glossy finger-stained magazines.

It wasn't that he hated the job his mother almost forced him into; on the contrary, he actually loved being the center of attention, loved the success, money, and recognition that came with having his picture taken. It was the act of wearing masks of forced, contrived joy every fuckin' time. People said he was photogenic, a "natural" that looked good from every angle with little to no effort.

But every time the lights went down and the camera lens cap was replaced, his furrowed brows and stoic expression returned as he stalked off the set to change into clothes that were actually comfortable.

Most of the photographers were old and boring, but he appreciated how concise they were: no bullshit small talk, just get down to business to finish the set as quickly and efficiently as possible. They were experienced and knew his signature poses well by now. He was also sure they knew the many masks he wore for different shoots: the laughing grin he wore for casual clothes, the borderline sultry glare he gave for black and white sets that oozed of drama and dramatic lighting. The sooner he could finish and get the sets over with, the sooner he could put down the masks.

However, one day he was surprised to find a brand new photographer, someone he'd never seen or heard of before, bumbling around the studio as she tried to find where she was supposed to set up. Shit, was she supposed to be his photographer today? This would turn into a shit-show in no time.

"Oi, you lost or somethin'?" he asked with hands stuffed into his baggy pants pockets as he walked towards the confused looking woman. She turned around, nearly dropping her large camera bag in the process, and stared at him like a deer caught in headlamps.

"Uh...yeah, a little? It's my first time on this set and...I think you're Bakugo Katsuki, correct?" He huffed through his nose at the question.

"Yeah, that's me." If he had to guide this new woman around while ALSO doing his own job, he'd surely complain to his mother if she was the one who hired her. "Go over there and set up your camera or whatever," he grumbled while pointing across the room to a very clearly marked "X" on the ground in bright yellow tape.

"Oh, of course! Duh, I'll just-" Before she could finish he was already walking away to head into hair and makeup. She hummed to herself. "Hmm...well, guess I'm on my own. It's just a new model - he's way more handsome in person than he is photos, woah - and new location, no big deal, right?"

After almost an hour in makeup and hair Bakugo was finally ready, while the new photographer had set up in about half that time and sat around eating a stale donut from the snack table nearby.

"Oi, hurry it up!" he called from behind you as he walked into the set. That snapped you back to attention, swallowing the last bite of donut as you stood behind your camera and focused it on Bakugo's silhouette as he sat on the plain white box in the center of the shooting area. He wore expensive jeans that fit him well and sat low on his hips, a thin tanktop and looked almost skin-tight, and an open button up shirt rolled up to the elbows. This was less to show off the clothes and more to show off how they made the body look - the appeal of extravagance that could make anyone feel or look more handsome and beautiful.

As soon as the camera was focused you held up a thumb to tell Bakugo to start posing - and he did. It was like a shift, a switch was flipped as he posed automatically. You'd shot models who could make everything they did and everything they wore look similar to a romanticized artistic rendering rather than a photo, but Bakugo seemed next level. But something...was off. It wasn't until about five minutes passed that you paused the shoot.

"The hell? Why are we stopping?" he asked as the mask came down.

You shook your head and stepped out from behind the camera. "It's not that the photos are bad; no, they're very good...but they're all forced. It's like photographing a mannequin rather than a person."

Well that sounded like a damned insult if he ever heard one. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

Holding up your hand defensively you tried to explain your point before he actually got angry. "Sorry! I just mean I want to see some emotion, some depth with your expression. It's falling flat."

"I'm posing, basically acting, that's the whole damn point."

Now it was your turn to sigh, but maybe this was exactly why Mitsuki Bakugo brought you onto the set; maybe you had something new to present. "I want you to think of a memory - a good one. Not even a happy one, just a memory that makes you feel something, ya know? Something strong that you can visualize clearly. If you think of it, I'll know." With that you stepped back behind the camera, not bothering to wait for an answer.

Bakugo sat there dumbfounded by your stupid request, but the sooner he could get out of here the better. So, just to get it over with, he did as you asked.

He sat and posed, like always, but instead of unfocusing his eyes and staring at an invisible spot on the other side of the room, instead he thought of a memory. It wasn't very recent, but it wasn't extremely old, either.

Snow littered the ground when he stood outside a fancy clothing store with his mother to get an autograph from Toshinori Yagi, one of the most well-known male models in his days of youth. An accident forced him to retire early, but now he was an advocate for body positivity and still modeled from time to time for charity events. His mother dragged him here, but he wasn't exactly mad about meeting someone who always had great emotion in his photos and smile.

Bakugo was so focused on the memory that he didn't notice you humming contentedly to yourself. These pictues were different than the ones minutes before. Bakugo's eyes were no longer flat but held emotion as he saw something only he could see. These photos would be beautiful.

Your voice snapped him out of the mental flashback. "I think...you'll really like these," you said while giving him a soft smile, almost invisible behind the blinding lights above him.

For some bizarre reason, he believed you.