Competitive Boyfriends first... kid?

Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t the type of guy who bought flowers. Hell, if someone had told him a year ago he’d be standing in his girlfriend’s dorm room, ripping plastic off a bouquet of lilies, he would’ve laughed in their face and blown them halfway across the hall. But here he was, arranging the stems into a cheap vase like it mattered.

The wrapping crumpled in his fist, tossed into her trash with a loud thunk. He scowled at the flowers like they’d personally offended him, crossing his arms. They look fine. She’ll like ‘em. If she doesn’t, too bad—

“Oi! Don’t take all night,” he barked, sharp enough to echo off the door. “Movie’s not waitin’ on your eyeliner.”

His tone was rough, impatient. But his lips twitched anyway, almost into a smile. Almost. He shoved it down fast, like he always did. God, I’m a damn idiot.

She didn’t answer, just laughed faintly under her breath. And Bakugou’s chest tightened in a way that annoyed the shit out of him. He hated how much he liked being here. How normal this felt. After everything—after he’d been dumb enough to break up with her, too blinded by his own pride—this was good. They were good.

I was such a fucking moron. Thought I didn’t need her, thought I was just proving something to Deku. But the second I walked away... it was empty. Everything was empty. And now? Now I’ve got her back. We’re solid. Finally got something right for once.

Bakugou bent to shove the leftover wrap deeper into the bin—then froze.

His crimson eyes locked on something white. Small. Plastic.

He reached down, frowning, pulling it free.

A pregnancy test.

Positive.

His whole body went still. The flowers, the humming, the date—everything dropped out of focus until it was just him and that tiny pink plus sign.

“...you’ve gotta be shitting me,” he breathed.

His chest squeezed tight, heart hammering faster than it ever had in combat. His hand shook, which pissed him off even more. He never shook. He never froze. But right now— This can’t be real. No way. Not now. We’re weeks from graduation. Provisional licenses. Agencies waiting. We’re about to be pro heroes, and this—

“Oi!” His voice cracked, louder than he meant, echoing off the walls. “The hell is this?!” The bathroom went quiet. Too quiet.

He started pacing, raking his free hand through his hair until it stuck up wilder than usual. The test trembled in his grip.

How the fuck would we even do this? We’re barely eighteen. We’ve got training, internships, exams. I can’t even keep my laundry under control half the time—how the fuck am I supposed to raise a kid?

He could feel panic clawing at his throat, making it hard to breathe.

Does she even wanna keep it? Shit—do I? Would I want her to? I mean... fuck, what if she does? What if she doesn’t? What if she looks at me and expects me to have the answer?

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head, trying to block the thoughts out. They came anyway, faster, harsher, each one like another blast ripping through his chest.

My mom’s gonna kill me. Her parents are gonna kill me. Our teachers—hell, Aizawa’s gonna string me up. I’m supposed to be the number one damn hero, not—

He cut himself off, gripping the test tighter, the plastic creaking. His voice was raw when it tore out of him:

“Answer me, damn it! Are you... pregnant?!”

The silence burned him alive. He didn’t know if he wanted her to shout back no and end this whole nightmare, or if part of him was already bracing for the worst answer.

He could see the future, the one he’d fought tooth and nail for, start to slip like smoke through his fingers. The agencies. The battles. His name shouted like All Might’s once was. All of it cracking apart under the weight of one tiny plus sign.

I can’t lose this. I can’t lose her. But I don’t know if I can do this either.

For the first time in years, Katsuki Bakugou was terrified—and no explosion could burn this fear away.

Katsuki Bakugou balanced the flowers awkwardly in one hand as he shouldered open her dorm room door. Lilies, bright and obnoxious, the same kind he’d heard her mention once when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. He hated carrying them around campus like some lovesick idiot, but he hated the thought of showing up empty-handed even more.

God, I look ridiculous. If the guys see me with these, I’ll never hear the end of it.

The room was quiet, lights on, the faint hum of her phone speaker buzzing from the bathroom. He expected her to be finishing her makeup, humming like usual, maybe calling out for “just five more minutes” like she always did. Instead, the sound that hit him made his stomach twist.

She was crying.

Bakugou froze mid-step, his crimson eyes narrowing. The flowers crinkled in his fist as he tightened his grip. His first instinct was anger—not at her, but at the situation. At whoever or whatever had made her sound like that.

Who the FUCK made her cry? Did someone say something? Did I do something?

He shoved the thought aside, setting the flowers down on her desk and tearing the plastic wrap off with sharp, frustrated movements. The paper crumpled in his hands before he tossed it into the bin. The bouquet leaned clumsily in a vase, tilted, uneven. He didn’t care. His focus was already locked on the bathroom door.

“Oi,” he called, voice gruff, masking the concern in his chest. “What the hell’s going on in there?”

No answer. Just another muffled sob.

Bakugou’s fists clenched at his sides. Every muscle in his body screamed to do something, to fight something, but there was no villain here—just her. Just her hurting. He stepped closer, pressing his palm to the door.

“Damn it,” he muttered, quieter this time. “You’re scarin’ the crap outta me.”

He tried the handle. It wasn’t locked. Slowly, carefully—more carefully than he did anything—he pushed it open.

She was sitting on the edge of the tub, her knees drawn up, face buried in her hands. On the counter beside her lay the little plastic stick, its faint pink plus sign glaring up at him like a spark about to set off dynamite.

Bakugou’s chest dropped. His throat went dry.

No. No way. That’s not—fuck.

He couldn’t stop staring at it, couldn’t make his brain process. The adrenaline shot through him like a detonation, but there was nothing he could blow up to make it go away. His stomach twisted hard, panic clawing at the edges of his mind.

How the hell are we supposed to deal with this? We’re weeks from graduating. Agencies are already scouting. We’re supposed to be heroes—not—

He forced the thought down before it could finish. Not now. Not when she was curled up, shaking, tears streaking her face.

“Hey,” he said, the word coming out rougher than he wanted. He crouched in front of her, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if she’d want him close. “Oi, look at me.”

She didn’t. She just shook her head, shoulders trembling.

Bakugou swallowed hard. Shit. She’s terrified. And I’m... I’m supposed to be the strong one here. The one who’s got answers. Except I don’t. I don’t know what the hell we’re gonna do. I don’t even know if I want her to keep it. What if she does? What if she doesn’t? What if she looks at me and I say the wrong thing and I lose her all over again?

He let out a shaky breath, frustration and fear warring inside him. Carefully, he reached out, taking her wrist and pulling her hands away from her face just enough to see her eyes, red and wet.

“Stop hidin’ from me,” he muttered, softer this time. His thumb brushed clumsily at her cheek. “You think I’m gonna run? After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re stuck with me, dumbass.”

The words were blunt, almost harsh, but his voice cracked on the edges. He didn’t know how to do gentle, not really—but he tried.

Inside, though, his mind was still a storm.

What if we’re not ready? What if I screw this up? I can barely handle my own shit, let alone—fuck. A baby? Now? When everything’s finally falling into place?

He grit his teeth, forcing his panic back down, burying it under stubborn resolve. “We’ll figure it out,” he said firmly, more to himself than to her. “You hear me? I don’t care how scary it looks right now—we’re gonna figure it out. Together.”

But even as he said it, his crimson eyes flicked to the test on the counter, and his heart hammered in his chest like a fuse racing toward an explosion.

...God help me. What if we can’t handle this?

Katsuki Bakugou had been running late. He hated that—hated not being on top of his own damn schedule. But he’d still swung by the little corner shop, grabbing a bag of her favourite snacks and a cheap bouquet of daisies just because he knew she liked them.

Not like I’m turning into some whipped idiot. She just deserves it, that’s all.

By the time he got to her dorm, he was already mentally preparing some snarky remark about her taking forever to get ready. But when he opened the door, the words never made it past his lips.

The air felt heavy. Too quiet. No music, no laughter, just this suffocating stillness. “Oi,” he called out, frowning. “You here or what?”

No answer. Then, faintly, from the bathroom—sniffling.

Bakugou’s stomach knotted instantly. He dumped the snacks and flowers onto her desk, his irritation bleeding into his voice as he stalked over. “The hell’s goin’ on? Why’re you crying?”

He shoved the bathroom door open without waiting, and the sight hit him like a gut punch.

She was sitting on the floor, back against the tub, clutching something small and white in her shaking hands. Her eyes flicked up, wide and wet, before darting away.

Bakugou didn’t even need to look at the test to know what it was. But when his gaze landed on that faint pink plus sign anyway, it was like a stick of dynamite went off in his chest.

“What the—” His voice cracked sharp, harsh, like it always did when he didn’t know how else to handle shit. “What the fuck is this supposed to mean?!”

She flinched, shrinking back a little, and guilt stabbed at him, but the panic was already boiling over. He raked his hands through his hair, pacing a tight line across the bathroom tile.

No. No fucking way. This can’t be real. She’s gotta be wrong. Maybe it’s a mistake. They’re not always accurate, right? RIGHT?*

He spun back toward her, voice rough. “You—you sure this thing’s even right? Maybe it’s busted. Maybe—fuck, maybe you need to do it again!”

Who am I kidding? It’s real. Shit, shit, shit. We’re supposed to be graduating. Hero agencies. Provisional licenses. The whole damn world’s waiting for us, and now—

He slammed his fist into the doorframe, the sound echoing like a gunshot. His shoulders shook, the anger twisting tight in his chest, though it wasn’t aimed at her. Not really.

Why now? Why us? How the fuck am I supposed to do this? I don’t even know if I want her to keep it. And what if she does? What if she doesn’t? What if I’m not enough either way?

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice breaking around the edges. He turned back, and when he saw her curled up smaller, silent tears dripping down her cheeks, it gutted him. The fury drained out as fast as it came, leaving nothing but fear and the raw ache of not knowing how to fix this.

Slowly, hesitantly, Bakugou crouched down in front of her. His hand hovered before he finally set it against her knee, grounding himself more than her.

“...I’m sorry,” he muttered, jaw tight. “I shouldn’t’ve yelled.”

She’s scared as hell too. Look at her. She probably thinks I’m gonna explode and bail. That I can’t handle this. And she might be right. I don’t know if I can handle this. But I sure as hell know I’m not leaving her alone in it.

Bakugou’s voice was low, almost trembling when he spoke again. “I don’t know what the fuck we’re supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m ready for this—or if I ever will be. But...” He clenched his fists, forcing the words out. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Got it? Whatever you decide—whatever happens—I’m here.”

He reached out, thumb brushing away the tears clinging to her cheek. His touch was clumsy, unsure, but it was the best he had.

I don’t know if I can be a hero and a dad. Hell, I don’t even know if I want this. But I want her. And that’s gotta be enough, right?

The silence stretched, heavy but different now, as if his words steadied the air between them just a little. He didn’t know what came next. Didn’t have the answers.

But for once, Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t trying to blow the problem up. He was just trying to hold on.