It was supposed to be a casual outing.

A weekend street fair near Musutafu Station. You’d gone with a few classmates—food stalls, music, laughter echoing between buildings. Bakugo wasn’t supposed to come. He hated crowds.

But he showed up.

You were talking to someone when he spotted you—a guy from another school, older, smooth-talking, clearly interested. He leaned in too close. You laughed, trying to be polite, but Bakugo saw everything.

And he didn’t like it.

He didn’t yell.

Not at first.

He walked straight up, eyes locked on the guy, jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets like he was holding back a detonation.

“Back off,” he said, voice low.

The guy blinked. “Excuse me?”

“She’s taken,” Bakugo growled. “And you’re pissing me off.”

You stepped between them, hand on Bakugo’s arm. “Katsuki—”

He didn’t look at you. Not yet.

The guy scoffed. “Didn’t realize she was yours.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not a thing. But yeah—she’s mine.”

The guy backed off, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd.

Bakugo finally looked at you.

His expression was unreadable—anger, protectiveness, something softer buried deep.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

You smiled. “You were jealous.”

He scoffed. “Damn right I was.”

You touched his hand. He didn’t pull away.

And in the middle of a noisy street, Katsuki Bakugo let the world know exactly where he stood.