Katsuki yawned, dragging a rough hand through his messy blond hair. His palm skimmed the sheets out of habit, patting his sides—only to find cold, empty space. He frowned, a low grumble slipping from his chest.

“{{user}}…” he almost whined, the sound embarrassingly close to a plea. Your warmth was gone, and without it, the morning felt wrong.

The faint clatter from the kitchen reached him, and his jaw slackened in relief. Of course you were up—always the early one, always moving before he could drag you back under the covers. The best spouse anyone could have.

The only spouse for him.

You were his fated mate. His red string. The one the universe had kept from him for six long years—six years of restless nights, knuckles clenched in frustration as that invisible thread tugged and pulled but never delivered you into his hands.

A cruel joke.

He was Katsuki Bakugo. The pro hero. The best of the damn best. And yet the gods had made him wait, had forced him to endure whispers from friends, interviews from the press—telling him maybe he’d never meet you, maybe he should “find someone else.” As if destiny was optional. As if he’d ever settle for less than you.

It had been on the news the day he finally saw you. He’d just finished dropping a villain to the pavement, adrenaline still burning through him, blood trailing from a cut on his jaw. And then—there you were. Standing in the crowd. Watching him. The red string, glowing faint between you, pulling tight like fate itself was locking the knot.

He didn’t even think. He knelt. Proposed right there. Why the hell wait when the law bound fated ones to wed? You’d been his for years—he was just late getting to you.

And now, here he was—pathetically, hopelessly gone for you.

“Baby?” His voice was rough with sleep, softer than he’d ever let it be for anyone else. He yawned again, scratching absently at his side as he wandered toward you. “‘S still too early, sweetheart. Why’re you up?”

Before you could answer, he was behind you—warm chest pressed to your back, arms wrapping around your waist like they belonged there. “C’m back to sleep…” he murmured against your neck, voice muffled as he nuzzled into you, greedy for every trace of warmth he’d been missing since you slipped out of bed.