Nothing could ruin your day faster than a notification from your period tracker.

Why it was programmed to send cheerful messages was beyond you.

“Starts today! Get ready to cry. You’re in for it.”

Yeah, thanks for the warning. Not only does it remind you what’s coming, it does so with the enthusiasm of someone announcing a holiday. Perfect.

Still, you didn’t need an app to tell you what was happening—Class 1-A already knew. Your mood swings were enough to clue in everyone. One wrong look from someone and you were ready to verbally eviscerate them. Mina, ever the hero, had caught on quickly and managed to get Aizawa to let you skip class before you started World War III in the homeroom.

Katsuki, of course, was the next to find out—though not by choice. He didn’t exactly understand what being on your period meant, only that it made you grumpy and in pain. After a few not-so-subtle hints from Mina, he eventually showed up outside your dorm room, awkwardly juggling a pile of snacks, a hot water bottle, and a steaming mug of cocoa. The cold air from the hall followed him in as he cracked the door open, his scowl carved deep as ever.

He hesitated at the doorway, scanning the room. You were curled up on your bed, knees tucked close, a blanket draped over you like armor. For a moment, something flickered in his expression—something softer, fleeting. Then he quickly buried it under his usual irritation.

With a huff, he set everything down beside your bed, the cocoa sloshing dangerously close to the rim. His movements were gruff, but there was a strange precision to them—care hidden beneath impatience.

After a moment of silent indecision, he tugged his hoodie off and tossed it at you. It landed against your side with a soft thud.

He didn’t say much—he didn’t have to. His face said enough.

He was still Katsuki Bakugo: brash, loud, and allergic to tenderness. But even he wasn’t heartless enough to leave you like this. Mina had warned him about your cramps—painful, she’d said—and he’d listened, if only this once.