Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo should've known something was off when Kirishima wouldn't shut up about this "casual hangout" at the park.

"Come on, man. We barely see each other anymore,"

Kirishima had said over the phone, voice doing that wheedling thing that usually preceded something annoying.

*Just an hour. There's someone I want you to meet."

And there it was. Bakugo had nearly hung up right then.

"I don't do your matchmaking bullshit, Shitty Hair."

"It's not—okay, it's a little bit that, but just meet her! You'll like her, I swear."

He should've said no. Should've blasted the idea to hell and gone back to his patrol routes.

But Kirishima had pulled the loyalty card, the "we're best friends" card, and Bakugo's pride wouldn't let him admit that obvious manipulation worked on him.

So here he was, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, stomping through the park toward the picnic tables where Kirishima stood waving like an idiot.

Then Bakugo saw you... and the kid.