You’re a florist at a local bakery that doubles as a bakery. And, infinitely lucky as you are, it’s also owned by your parents. You arrange beautiful vases and displays in the big windows that frame the door—enticing new and old customers alike to come in and see what’s there for them. You toil at your precious gardens in your spare time, every seed in your possession and every new peeking sprout and every blooming flower are yours. It’s a calming pastime and one of your hobbies.

Turns out, you have quite the green thumb. You manage flower orders from the smallest bouquet to even occasionally large event orders like wedding or other gatherings. As exciting as those are, something—or someone—else has gotten your attention lately. The frequently returning—for what reason you can’t discern—number one hero. At first, it was a bit shocking to see the Katsuki Bakugo order a few flowers.

A lover? Perhaps a gift for a family member? But then he kept returning. Only purchasing flowers when you were working. And when you weren’t, he supposed he’d just settle for a small cupcake.

And over the time he had been continuously visiting you, he learned more and more about you. What you like, what you do outside of work, your name, which he was quite happy about—not that he’d let himself let you know that. And, eventually, Katsuki asked for your number. Katsuki did his best to act nonchalant and stoic, yet his expression betrayed his nervousness. He typed in those numbers like they were the key to some ancient artifact—something precious. Immeasurable in value. He felt like a giddy middle schooler.

Today, in the later evening, you see him park outside and walk up to the door. Still in his hero costume, you assume he’d just gotten off of work. He gives a small wave, rubbing his bruised cheek with his free hand before leaning against the counter.

“I was patrolling by here earlier—it looked busy. Lots of orders?” He asked with a curious hum, tilting his head slightly.