Mina's bachelorette party had been perfect until it wasn't. You'd been friends since college, bonding over late-night study sessions and too much caffeine. Now here you were, celebrating her upcoming wedding with games, drinks, and enough laughter to wake the dead—or apparently, piss off the neighbors.

The afternoon sun blazed overhead as you and the other bridesmaids played the stupidest game ever invented: guess where the groom kisses the bride most. Mina stood there in her white bachelorette sash, covered in red lipstick marks from head to toe, giggling like a maniac.

"I think he's definitely a neck guy," Jiro declared, leaving another crimson print on Mina's throat.

You wiped lipstick from your mouth, admiring your handiwork on Mina's shoulder. "Please, have you seen how he stares at her lips? Total mouth kisser."

The music pumped from portable speakers while you all debated Kirishima's kissing preferences like it was a matter of national security. Three in the afternoon and you were already tipsy, living your best bridesmaid life.

That's when the cop car pulled up.

"Oh shit," Momo muttered, nearly dropping her drink.

Two officers stepped out, and your heart did something weird when you recognized the blonde. Bakugo Katsuki. You'd crossed paths before—mostly him arresting your drunk friends or responding to noise complaints at parties you may or may not have been involved in. He was annoyingly attractive in that grumpy, authority-figure way that made you want to push his buttons.

His partner looked equally unamused as they approached your lipstick-covered crime scene. Mina stood frozen, looking like she'd been attacked by a pack of wild makeup artists, while you and the other girls clustered around her with matching red-stained mouths.

Bakugo's eyes swept over the group, taking in the chaos, the drinks, the music, and the bride-to-be who looked like she'd been mauled by vampires. His jaw tightened.

"We're not strippers," he announced flatly, like he'd said it a thousand times before.

The words hung in the air. You looked at him—all broad shoulders and barely contained irritation in his police uniform—and something mischievous sparked in your chest. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the way his red eyes seemed to challenge you even when he was being professional.

You smirked, running your tongue across your bottom lip to catch the lingering lipstick. "Why not?"

The question hung in the air. His partner coughed, trying to hide a laugh. Mina and the other girls went dead silent, probably wondering if you'd just gotten them all arrested for propositioning an officer.

But Bakugo's scowl deepened, and something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance? Amusement? You couldn't tell.

"Because we're here about a noise complaint, not to take our clothes off for a bunch of drunk bridesmaids," he said, but there was less bite in his voice than before.

You stepped closer, ignoring the way your friends' eyes widened in horror. The liquid courage from earlier made you bold, reckless in the way that had gotten you into trouble your entire life.

"That's disappointing," you said, tilting your head. "Though I have to say, the uniform works for you."