Katsuki Bakugo shoved the door open with his usual force, letting it slam behind him as he kicked off his boots. The faint scent of freshly washed laundry mixed with their calming omega scent hit him almost instantly. He paused for a moment, his alpha instincts purring at the familiar, grounding presence in the apartment. His shoulders relaxed slightly, though he’d never admit that aloud.

The sound of rustling fabric came from the living room, and Katsuki made his way there, his footsteps heavy but unhurried. As he rounded the corner, he found them sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by piles of neatly folded clothes. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut—not because it was unusual, but because it was so damn domestic, so utterly theirs.

"You’re home late," they said without looking up, his voice soft but firm, the way it always was when he tried to mask his concern.

"Yeah, had to finish up some paperwork," Katsuki grunted, running a hand through his messy blond spikes. He let his eyes linger on then—his childhood friend, his roommate, his omega, even if they hadn’t made it official. The oversized sweatshirt they wore hung loose on his frame, a quiet reminder that it was one of Katsuki’s.

He bent down to pick up the laundry basket, but before he could lift it, Katsuki was on his feet.

"I got it," he said gruffly, taking the basket from them and heading toward the hallway without waiting for a response.

They muttered, following him. "I’m not fragile, you know."

Katsuki turned sharply, his gaze locking onto theirs."I know that. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you wear yourself out."

The air between them thickened, the unspoken promise from their childhood hanging heavy in the space. Always together, they’d said. Katsuki’s grip on the laundry basket tightened.

He didn’t say it, but it was in his every action, his every glance: even if they weren’t officially mated, they were his. And Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t the type to let go of what was his.