BNHA/MHA Scenarios + Headcanons

Bakugo is cheated on, Reader comforts him

The punching bag hung by a chain attached to the ceiling currently swung limply, smoke pouring from a massive hole in the center as the smell of burnt fabric filled the room. Heavy breathing. Pouring sweat. Aching muscles. Broken heart.

Anger settled in immediately, rabid fury that forced him to go somewhere and let out his frustrations on something that couldn't feel pain. He cursed until his throat felt scratchy, punched until his knuckles bled, fought back tears until his eyes were red and swollen. Everything hurt and he had no idea how to stop it.

He'd finished his patrol early and headed home. Walking down the hallway towards his apartment he saw an odd sight: a man coming out of his door, looking around suspiciously before his cold eyes landed on Bakugo.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked while the stranger attempted to brush Bakugo off and shoulder past him to the exit. "What were you doing in my apartment?"

"Might wanna ask them that," the man answered before slinking off and out of sight. Confused, Bakugo turned back around and opened up the door to his apartment, not really sure what he expected to see.

His partner casually getting dressed and looking shocked to see him was not on the list.

Screaming. Throwing things. Letting off explosions. He reacted badly - verybadly. They were crying, trying to place the blame on him: that he isn't home enough, that he doesn't give him enough attention, that she was lonely. And maybe all of those things were true, but that meant they should have fucking talked to him about it, not...not do this!

Guilt at him as everything settled in, that this really happened and he really was leaving. He couldn't stay there knowing what happened when he wasn't around. "My fucking fault, I'm so stupid." Blaming himself, that he wasn't observant enough, attentive enough, loving enough. Being a Hero was hard and took a lot of time away from his personal relationships, sure, and maybe his handicaps with communicating held him back from doing better, being the best at this like he wanted to be the best at everything else.

He walked out of the gym, laying some cash on the counter to pay for the ruined punching bag before heading to the hotel he was currently holed up in.

Kirishima was off on a mission outside the country, and Kaminari lived too far away to make getting to the agency a huge pain, so he was forced to keep sleep and live in a hotel until he figured shit out.

He looked down at his phone and saw missed calls from them. He couldn't bring himself to block their number just yet. He'd grabbed his things the next day and left without so much as a final "fuck you."

His phone buzzed again and he was about to throw it against the wall when your name popped up and honestly a sigh of relief hit him. Bottling everything up and letting things get to a breaking point accounted for his typical behavior, and after letting out some steam on a punching bag he might just be ready to have a proper breakdown. But being alone sounded so shit for once, and texting his friends who had their own busy hero schedules could only accomplish so much. So, he replied, and you answered.

Half an hour later a knock echoed on the hotel door, and he let you in.

From your perspective, he looked like shit. The normal look of intense determination shining back in his eyes was now dull and shadowed. Dark circles under his eyes. Bakugo's whole demeanor had shifted from confident and on top of the world to looking like the world was now on top of him. But you were there to try and cheer him up, be a shoulder if he needed one, to listen. It's all you could do, really.

"Hey," you said as he closed the door behind you. "Dunno if you've eaten, I picked up some stuff from that place you like? With the super spicy broth?"

"Food sounds disgusting right now," he mumbled before sinking into the messy sheets of the bed. With a sigh you set the takeout bag on the counter before sitting down next to him.

He was silent for a while, but you knew he was thinking, considering what to say and how to say it - how to even start with everything flipping through his heart and head right now.

"Did I fuck up?" he asked, head bowed low and shoulders slumped. "Is all this shit my fault?"

"What?! Dude, no. Their actions are not your fault - They chose to go behind your back and fuck things up rather than actually talk to you about it-"

"I'm not an easy person to fucking talk to! What if everything they said I did or didn't do was true and I just...! FUCK!" His shoulders were shaking as his hands clamped across his face. You were unsure if a gentle hand would be too jolting, so you sat back and let him do what he needed to do.

"Look...even if you could've done things differently, that doesn't change the fact that they totally screwed up. If you keep blaming yourself I'll actually be pissed." You weren't even sure if your words were getting through to him, but you still felt the need to say something. Seeing him like this hurt more than you thought it would. His sarcastic sense of humor, that crooked smile that sent villains running, the piercing stare of those ruby colored eyes - you missed it all.

After a few minutes he calmed down and a mirthless laugh echoed deep within his throat. "I really am weak, huh? Wallowing in this shitty feeling, so pathetic." You were about to argue about his attitude when he continued. "I need a swift kick in the ass. Want the honors?" He turned towards you, the faintest glimmer of life returning to his stare visible under his blonde bangs.

With a sigh you nodded. "How could I refuse such a request? Eat first, mostly because I'm hungry and will feel shitty if I'm the only one eating." That ushered in an honest laugh, a sound you'd grown to love over the years. You'd grown to love a lot of things about Bakugo, but you kept your distance...and for now, while he healed and moved forward, you'd continue to do so.

With that he stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shrug off an invisible weight before walking over to the small kitchen in the room and sniffing at the food you brought, immediately picking out the spiciest box. "Well?" he said while looking towards you and holding up a takeout container expectantly.

Conversation started out slowly but eventually his smiles came a bit easier as you distracted him from emotional turmoil. You could do this - be patient, be understanding, be present for him. Having no idea if he could ever think of you as more than a friend, you stuffed your own insecurities and doubt down into the pit of your stomach as the two of you ate. Right now he needed time, but if he ever wanted more, all he needed to do was ask.