I'M DYING THIS IS SO K2OFI2IFOWOFIE - Blog Posts

Before Time Runs Out

This is chapter 2 of the series. Other parts will be on the masterlist.

➛ link: click here

synopsis: You, determined heroine with the ability to manipulate time itself, have always dreamed of becoming a hero. But each use of your quirk shortens your lifespan, a consequence you hide from everyone. When Bakugo discovers the truth, he is thrown into a panic. Struggling between his desire to protect you and his fear of losing you too soon, Bakugo must decide whether to let you continue using your quirk or do whatever it takes to stop you, even if it means breaking your heart.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: profanity. implied secrecy/deception. mild sensory discomfort (due to quirk usage).

You always told yourself you wouldn’t get too comfortable.

Not here. Not anywhere.

But sometimes… it was easy to forget. Easy to pretend.

It was a quiet day at U.A., one of those rare moments that felt like normalcy.

Most of the students had gone home since the mandate to stay on campus was lifted last month. Parents missed their kids. Families wanted to pull them back close. And honestly? You didn’t blame them.

But for you… home wasn’t an option anymore.

And for Bakugo, well, he wasn’t exactly the type to leave halfway through anything.

So, the dorms were quieter than usual.

Fewer voices echoing down the halls. Fewer plates clattering in the kitchens.

The common areas that used to be packed were now often empty, save for a few lingering students like Tokoyami, who mostly kept to himself anyway, or Sero and Kaminari, who occasionally wandered back on weekends.

Yaoyorozu was still here, though she tended to keep to the library or her own room, and Shoji and Ojiro hadn’t left either.

But mostly, it was you and Bakugo.

And today was… quiet.

The sizzle of oil in the pan filled the dorm kitchen as you stood there, squinting at the recipe Bakugo had scrawled onto a torn scrap of notebook paper.

The edges were smudged, his messy handwriting a little hard to read in certain places.

“Two cups of panko…” you muttered, dumping a ridiculous amount of breadcrumbs into a bowl. Some of it missed completely, scattering onto the counter.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” Bakugo said, voice low and lazy as he leaned against the fridge, arms crossed.

You turned your head to glare at him. “I’m following your recipe.”

“You’re not,” he shot back. “I said two handfuls. Not two cups, dumbass.”

You stared at the paper again. “It looks like it says cups.”

“It doesn’t,” he grunted.

“Your handwriting is chicken scratch,” you huffed, brushing some of the panko into the bowl with your hand.

Bakugo’s mouth twitched. He was trying not to smirk.

“Maybe you should just make it then,” you said. “You’re the pro here.”

“Nah,” he replied easily. “You wanted to learn, so you’re learnin’. Even if you suck.”

You scoffed but felt the warmth creep up your neck anyway. This was new. This thing between you and Bakugo.

It's new enough that sometimes you were convinced it was going to shatter in your hands if you looked at it too closely.

But here you were, standing in a kitchen that smelled like hot oil and spices, getting roasted by him, and it felt… good, really good.

Comfortable. Maybe there was a little more time after all.

You turned back to the stove, frying up a piece of pork.

Bakugo made a noise behind you. You figured it was another smart-ass comment on your cooking, but when you glanced over your shoulder, he was watching you with something else in his expression.

Something softer.

“What?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Nothin.”

Liar.

You were about to push him on it when a muffled giggle echoed from the hall.

And then another.

And then, you heard the light shuffle of footsteps.

You froze for a moment, sighed, and turned off the stove.

Bakugo’s brow furrowed. “What the hell?”

“They’re back,” you said simply.

“Who?”

You gave him a look as the footsteps got closer.

“The first-years,” you clarified. “The girls. The ones who sneak into the second-year dorms every other day just to get a peek at you.”

Bakugo scowled immediately. “Tch. Annoying as shit.”

You snorted, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“They’re gonna scream if they find you in here,” you said.

“Let ‘em scream,” he grumbled.

But you were already moving. You reached out, grabbing his wrist before he could argue, and pulled him along with you.

Bakugo didn’t even have time to swear before you activated Final Hour.

The world blurred.

Colors streaked like paint across canvas. The air shimmered. Everything slowed, everything but you. You and Bakugo were moving fast enough to be nothing but a distant whisper in the fabric of time.

It only took a second to drag him around the corner, push open the nearest unlocked door, and pull him inside a closet.

You shoved the door shut with your foot just as your quirk faded, the world snapping back into normal speed with a sharp pop in your ears.

Bakugo exhaled hard, leaning back against the wall.

“Shit,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face.

You glanced at him.

He always looked a little dizzy after you used your quirk near him.

“It’s the speed,” you lied. “Messes with people’s heads a little.”

He grunted. He didn’t know the truth.

Not yet.

The muffled sounds of footsteps rushed past the door.

“Where did he go?!” one girl whispered.

“I swear I saw him in the kitchen!”

“You think he went outside?”

Their voices trailed off eventually.

You let out a breath, leaning your head back against the wall of the cramped closet. It smelled like cleaning supplies and dust.

“Idiots,” Bakugo muttered, glaring at the door like he could burn a hole through it.

You smiled faintly. “Maybe they just admire you.”

“Yeah, well, they can admire me from the other side of the campus.”

You laughed under your breath.

For a moment, neither of you moved. It was warm in here.

And then Bakugo turned his head, eyes catching the low light filtering through the doorframe.

“You’re reckless, y’know,” he said, his voice lower now.

You tilted your head. “For dragging you into a closet?”

“For everything,” he replied, gaze narrowing just a little.

“I’m fine,” you said, and it wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. You were fine now.

His hand brushed against yours in the dark.

“Still reckless,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it this time.

You leaned in a little. Maybe it was the leftover adrenaline from speeding through time. Maybe it was the way his fingers curled slowly around yours.

Or maybe it was because being close to Bakugo made you feel… something different.

Like maybe you weren’t running out of time.

Even if you were.

“You wanna stay in here all day, or…?” you asked softly.

Bakugo smirked. “Could be fun.”

Then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you kissed him.

Quick. Soft.

And for a little while, in that dark, cramped closet, with his hand on the back of your neck and his lips pressed to yours, you didn’t think about time at all.

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