I Don't Want To Regret The Way I Lived

Oh, I'm pretty boy?

pairing: katsuki bakugo x sick!reader

c/w: fluff, early relationship, petnames (katsuki calls reader babe, reader evidently calls katsuki pretty lol), sprinkles of hispanic!reader/spanish-speaking!reader, gn!reader

wc: 1.3k

~°•*~

You've been sick the last few days.

You're on the tail-end of recovery now, thank god, but for most of the week you've been bed-ridden, and snotty, and sweaty, and hot, and cold. It's been miserable, if you're being honest. With the light at the end of the tunnel in view, you're glad the worst of it is over.

There has been one upside to being sickly, though--one aspect that makes you wish you could be sick just one more day: Ever since you fell ill, since the moment he'd heard you were taking leave off work to rest at home for a bit, you've been under the thorough care of your very own, self-appointed nurse, Katsuki.

There's this saying: "You'll never truly know someone well enough until you've seen them struggle financially, grieve a lost loved one, or witness them while they're sick."

Your relationship is new. Not early days, but still far too soon for him to be seeing you sick, for your liking.

But when he showed up at your door a couple days ago--masked up, worry-eyed, and holding all the essentials for treating a typical head cold--how could you refuse him?

And to be fair, he's been a rock. He's changed your compresses (water bowl kept at optimal temperature), given you medicine in intervals (timed and administered to the MINUTE), and even cooked you palatable meals (anything you could keep down, but namely the caldo recipe he got from your mom when he asked her what you ate when you're sick). He did everything short of rubbing Vick's vapo rub on you (not for lack of trying), all while keeping a level head and brushing aside your concerns over feeling like you're burdening him.

"You're my girlfriend," he'd say matter-of-factly. "This is my job, ain't it?"

A rhetorical question. He said it as if it was an irrefutable truth, as if he hadn't even considered an alternative, as if the very thought of leaving you to fend off this cold by yourself was an affront to your relationship, scowl on his face and all.

His bedside manner needed work, but when he said those words to you... let's just say the flush rising up your face probably had nothing to do with the cold.

So, yeah. While you're happy to be feeling better, you can't help being a little disappointed that the doting will soon come to an end.

Which is why you now sit with your head resting in your hands, elbows on the kitchen bar, making the most of admiring a now unmasked Katsuki as he cooks your dinner on what will be the last of your "sick days."

You're unashamed in your ogling. You feel bold. It might be the relaxed atmosphere. It might be the way Katsuki let you wear his hoodie tonight... It might just be the cold medicine. You feel dozy, comfy, and so dopily content as you watch your boyfriend chop vegetables.

He does it with ease--so practiced that it's like he's on autopilot. His defenses are down, completely in his element.

"'Ya sure you want all this cooked in with your rice?" Now that you're feeling better, he's less inclined to hold his tongue about his thoughts on your childhood dishes.

You yawn and nod. "Mhm, it's the way my mami always makes it."

"Just sayin', I could make ya rice without all this extra stuff."

"It's a good thing you're not making rice, Katsuki." You pout dramatically for emphasis. "You're making sopita."

"Sopita," he repeats, shaking his head with a sideways grin. "Alright, babe. I've got you covered. Sopita coming right up."

You switch to resting your cheek in one hand, continuing to observe your boyfriend as he works. He looks so serene this way. With his smug little half smile, even his expression screams "relaxed"--very unlike his usual frown and furrowed brow.

You're not used to seeing him like this. Sure, you've seen him in a good mood, upbeat, excited, even downright elated, like on the day you agreed to go out with him.

Katsuki has always been an... expressive person, even when it doesn't grant him the most flattering of expressions.

Right now, though, while he's contented and caring for you in the comfort of your own home, his features are on display in such a way that you wonder if the cough syrup really is getting to you.

He looks almost...

Pretty...

"You're starin'."

You know you are. "Sorry," you laugh. "I was just thinking how it's a shame you have such a cara de fuchi most of the time, Kats. You're so pretty."

His head snaps toward you. "Fucking WHAT." The furrow is back in his brow. If you were paying proper attention, you'd notice the flush rising up his neck and the back of his ears, but your eyelids are feeling a bit heavy at this point.

You wave your free hand dismissively. "You know, cara de fuchi," you explain. You're sure you've used this phrase in front of him before. "Like you're a sour puss, you pull faces--"

"I'm not fucking pretty," he interrupts.

You open your eyes slightly to squint at him. "Pfft," you laugh. "Has no one ever told you that?"

"Hell, no." He turns back to the task at hand. Grumbling under his breath.

With his signature grimace making its return, the allure is gone; but now that you've seen it, you can't unsee it. He's beautiful. His eyes are a nice shape, and the crimson color of his irises is striking against his light complexion. The way his hair falls just above is strong browbone makes you want to push it back and rub at the scrunch between his brows. And you know he has soft lips, but on top of that, they're such a nice shade of pink. His jawline. His cheekbones. His chin.

It's a fundamental truth. Katsuki Bakugo is pretty.

You fold your arms on the island and press your cheek into the crook of your elbow. "I'm sure people would tell you more often if all the pretty wasn't covered up by your perpetual stank face."

Cue said stank face. He bumbles over his words in frustration for a second. "You're sick and loopy, stop bein' weird."

You giggle. "And you have a nice face when you're not acting chronically disgusted by the world."

He looks at you properly and you smile to yourself in pure delight and fondness.

"You're pretty when you're happy, Katsuki."

He deliberates over it for a moment, stank face semi relaxing. He's about to say something else when you cut into the silence with another yawn.

His gaze softens into an amused smirk as he reaches for your cheek and pinches softly. "Alright, alright. Don't fall asleep on me just yet, you gotta eat properly before goin' to bed."

You swat his hand away and rise to attention while rubbing your eyes. "Okay, okay. I'm up."

He smiles and goes back to cooking your half-prepared meal. "Ponte las pilas, or whatever the hell your mom says when you start lazin' around."

You huff at that. "I regret teaching you Spanish, you always pick up the worst phrases."

Katsuki barks out a laugh and you can't help the snort that follows as you giggle right along with him.

You two settle into the monotony of the last evening of your first of many sick days together. You're sure your boyfriend has had more than enough of witnessing you sick to satisfy stipulations. Suffice to say that he felt he knew you and your "sleepy freak tendencies" a bit better now.

There's definitely an addendum you'd make to that old saying, though: You'll never know how pretty someone is until you've seen them care for you while you're sick.

~°•*~

divider via cafekitsune

gif via ara-kan (deactivated)

u think i am joking but this is genuinely how i look while writing: “god, you’re so fucking wet” and “such a good girl” for the hundreth time in my miserable existence

Not quite what he had in mind, but Taigen finally got his duel. And played the worst card possible.

I don't think we can 'lmao' our way out of this one, girls.

iwaizumi has never once forgotten a date.

oikawa's always told him it makes him sound weird and robotic—that no one remembers the exact day they broke their first bone or had their first kiss, iwa. that memories pass and days fade and you're not meant to remember the exact date of every little thing, but, if he's being completely honest, iwaizumi kind of likes it.

he's never forgotten a date, and so today, your birthday, is really no exception.

granted, he didn't expect himself to be standing at your front porch with a little piece of paper stuffed in his pocket today—but facetime just didn't seem like enough and he couldn't stomach the idea of you getting your birthday gift from the postman, so here he is.

"hajime?" you hover in the doorway, eyeing him, and for a moment, he thinks this might have been an incredibly stupid idea. "what are you doing here?"

"your birthday," he breathes. "i didn't wanna miss it."

and you laugh, "so you came all the way here?"

"so i came all the way here, yeah." he stands there for a moment, hoping to gauge some kind of reaction out of you, but he's caught between shock and horror, so that isn't really doing him any good.

"you really didn't have to"

"i know, i just," he hesitates, digging around in his pocket for a moment before he fishes out the paper. "i really wanted to hear your voice and i really wanted to give this to you in person and i really didn't want you to think i forgot, so here."

normally, he would curse himself for the word vomit, but right now he's a little busy thrusting an envelope into your hands for him to bring himself to care.

"oh-" you hold the letter between your fingers, twisting the little opening of the envelope in your hands. "what is it?"

and he eyes you.

"okay, yeah, yeah i have to open it to find out. you don't even have to say it," you say, and he chokes out a little laugh.

"at least you figured it out, i guess." he watches you sink your fingers beneath the little cover, unfolding the sheets in your hands and, he really considers telling you to wait until later to read it. he doesn't.

"babe?" you ask, and you look like you could cry. "did you write me a love letter for my birthday?"

he did. it's brief, incredibly so, and he's not sure he said anything that he was trying to say, but it's in his handwriting and it's in your hands, so he's not sure he could take it back now if he tried. truthfully, judging by the way your eyes spill across the words, holding the little letter in shaky hands, he's not so sure he'd want to either.

"something like that," he shrugs. "just—don't make fun of me if it sounds stupid."

"hajime," you start.

"or do, i guess, it doesn't really matter and it's your birthday so whatever makes you happy—"

"haji." he pauses.

"sorry, what?"

and you kiss him. it's a crash of lips and a crinkle of paper and the joining of the both of you on your little doorstep. it's the twisting of breaths and the ache of reunion and happy birthday whispered across your tongue.

you kiss him, and when you're finished, and your lips are sucking in every little twist of air they can muster, you kiss him again. you kiss him until his lungs ache—until his being is as much yours as it is his own, until the rain starts coming down too hard and you're both too soaked to think and you're pulling him inside by the wrist, so you can take him to your room and stare at his handwriting a little more.

you kiss him, and iwaizumi realizes at that moment that really, really likes remembering dates, especially if they're for you.

posting this as tradition, the only day you can reblog this

Based on this squad pose by @queencookiemonster123

Bonus:

Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(