Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I opened the door to my pink Mercedes benz and got in to go to work. Exhausting, but staying at home doesnt buy me a pink Mercedes benz, operating on brains does.

Today, there would be a new doctor joining to work under me in the neurology department, I am the neurology HOD. I sighed tiredly, newbies. New transfers from other hospitals have much of an attitude and expect to be treated like they run the place on their first day since they got accepted into such a prestigious hospital (seriously only the richest of the rich, social-climbing, capitalist-system-benefitting, assholes come here), but they soon realise there's levels to this shit and I'm the final boss (literally). 'Whatever ,' I thought, 'as long as they were a fast worker.'

I entered the hospital and made my way to place my bag in the locker room. I passed by our head surgeon, my close friend Tamaki Amajiki.

"Hey Amajiki!! How's it going today? Excited to meet the newbie?" I asked teasingly.

"H-hey Y/N! I'm okay, tha-thank you." He whispered the last part. Amajiki was a bit shy around people although I considered myself pretty close to him.

"U-uhm I'm looking forward to meeting the new doctor I just hope he doesn't think I'm weird" he said sadly.

"Aww Amajikii, you're a sweetheart everyone knows it!! They'll love working under you, but don't go too easy on them alright? No slacking around here, even for newbies." I ordered, walking away.

"Y-yes Ma'am!" I heard Amajiki exclaim. Chuckling to myself, I placed my bag containing an extra change of clothes in my locker and prepared for a long day of work.

 

--------------------------------------------

 

“You have GOT to be kidding me!” I barked. “His first day—first day—and he can’t even make it on time?” I flung my empty coffee can into the bin and glared at the résumé.

Name: Katsuki Bakugo
Age: 27
Sex: Male
Previous workplace: Shiketsu Hospital
Field: Neurology

“Tsk. Of course it’s a Shiketsu hire,” I muttered. “They all think they’re the shit. Bet he strolls in proud and won’t take criticism. Hate that type.”

“Isn’t it a little early to blacklist him?” Nejire, our head nurse, asked from across the staff room.

“He’s two minutes late—” she began, but I lifted an eyebrow.

“AND before you say anything—yes, I know you’re busy, Y/N—but you can be… intense in boss mode. Cut him some slack. You scare people.” I like that I scare peoeple but her worried tone softened my heart a little. “Fine,” I said. "I'll be nice. For now. He’s got two minutes before he’s permanently on my—”

“Uh—Hello? Dr. Y/N L/N? Neurology HOD?” a gruff voice interrupted.

“I’m the new doctor. Katsuki Bakugo. I’m supposed to start today.” The man standing in the doorway folded his arms, blond spikes ...??

I checked my watch. “You were supposed to start three minutes ago, Katsuki Bakugo.” Nejire made a tiny gasping sound behind me—"be nice!", she whispered. I didn’t.

He stared at me with red eyes that wouldn’t quit. Cocky, quiet—too calm. He didn’t answer. Fine.

“Okay rookie, you work under me now,” I said, each word measured. “My word is law. Don’t let your Shiketsu ego make you think you’re above my staff. Respect them during surgeries. Value their input. Otherwise I will make your life miserable.”

“Tch. Done with your pep talk, lady?” he finally said, voice flat.

My jaw tightened. “Watch your tone, rookie. It’s Dr. L/N to you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Can someone show me around?” He shrugged, as if the entire conversation had been a minor inconvenience.

Rage—old, reflexive, high-school level—threatened to take over. How dare he? I'm his superior, I am the HOD. No one ever dismisses me so.

“No, no Y/N—be professional. Torture later,” I muttered under my breath, then plastered on my biggest, sweetest smile. He blinked, taken aback.

“Nejire, sweetheart—show Katsuki Bakugo here the wards and introduce him to Amajiki,” I said, tugging the nurse forward.

“Hi! I’m Nejire, head nurse. I’ll show you around.” Her voice trembled a notch, but she stayed steady.

“Okay, thanks,” he said—sarcastic as hell.

He left with Nejire chattering, pointer-finger out like a tour guide. I watched him go, exasperated. He isn’t breaking rules or fumbling cases; he’s just going to be a massive pain. Can’t fire him because he’s valuable. Can’t make him leave because he’s talented. Great.

This is gonna be a long week.

 

Well, the hospital isn’t going to run itself. No time to waste. I left the staff room and made my rounds: checking reports, offering second opinions, and solving whatever crises came up. Lunch came and went. I spoke with each of my surgeons about their issues.

And then it was his turn.

I dreaded it, but I stepped into Bakugo’s office anyway.

He sat behind the desk, looking cramped in the chair — not because it was small, but because he was so large. Easily over six feet, broad shoulders stretching the dark blue scrubs, biceps pressing against the fabric. His jaw was sharp. His mouth slightly parted, his lips are annoyingly pretty.

My eyes darted down to the desk. His hands rested flat on the surface — big veined hands. Katsuki Bakugou wore a lot of rings. A picture frame sat in the corner. Girlfriend? Wouldn’t surprise me. Someone that handsome wouldn’t be single.

Piercing red eyes snapped to mine. I froze. Realized I hadn’t said a single word since I walked in. Just stood there. Staring.

Get a grip, Y/N.

I cleared my throat and slid into the chair across from him..

Bakugo POV

First thing this morning, she gave me the most dictator-like pep talk I’ve ever sat through. Fine. Whatever.

But another one, right after lunch? Absolutely insane.

She hasn’t even spoken yet. She’s just… standing there. Staring me down like I’m the root of every single one of her problems.

I drummed my fingers against the desk, rings clicking on the wood. This woman’s already driving me crazy.

She cleared her throat and sat in one of the chairs across from my desk.
“I hope you’re somewhat acquainted with the rooms, patients, machines, and staff by now, Katsuki Bakugo,” she said, bored.

“What the hell’s wrong with you anyway, ya freak? You gotta say my full name every damn time you speak to me or somethin'?” My voice came out sharper than I meant, but her condescending tone had me on edge. I thought I was the master of that.

Dr. L/N’s eyebrow arched. “Excuse me? Just who are you calling a freak?" The look in her eye was murderous. "I'm your boss, and just because the hospital board is boasting about how you're the best up and coming doctor in the Milky Way or whatever doesn't mean you can speak to me however you want."

She stood, slow and deliberate, then leaned across my desk, finger jabbing into my chest with every word.
“Don’t. Test. Me. I. Will. Fire. You.”

Heat surged to my face. Anger—obviously. I shoved back my chair and got to my feet.
“Like hell you will. I’m not scared of you, woman. I’m Katsuki Bakugo—like you said, the best up-and-coming doctor in the goddamn Milky Way. So yeah, I’ll do the work, but I’ll speak however the hell I want! The board won't let you fire me.”

Her finger didn’t move from my chest. My pulse wouldn’t settle. Because I was so mad. It was pissing me off. Why couldn't she just stop?

She smirked—smirked, after all that. The way her lips quirked was pretty. What? “The board might not let me fire you, but I can make your life miserable. Don’t forget, I’m the 'freak' in charge.”

That freakish smile again. Wasn’t she just glaring?

“Fine, best up-and-coming doctor,” she continued, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let’s see if you can handle me.”

One last jab to my chest, sharp enough to sting, and she spun on her heel, striding out without giving me a chance to fire back.

I dropped back into my chair, scowling. “Cringy nutcase,” I muttered under my breath.

But my chest still burned where her finger had been. My heart wouldn’t stop hammering.
She’s trouble, that woman.

Chapter Text

By the time I got home, it was late in the evening and my head was pounding and my hair was a mess. Only a few hours into working with Bakugou and I already wanted to throw myself into traffic.

I kicked off my sneakers as I laid on my fluffy, green, couch. I'm so tired. Working in neurology is something I always dreamed of, but what I didn't know is how hard it would be to get there-how hard it was to stay. I'm not much of a complainer but some days really get to me, days like today.

I live in a one bedroom apartment-yes not so fitting for a surgeon with such a hefty paycheck- but I have no reason to move into a bigger house, it's not like I had a partner or a large group of friends I needed more space in my living room for. Sometimes I invited Nejire and Amajiki over for dinner, and while I love them both I just feel like I'm third wheeling most of the time.

A surge of loneliness washed over me, I was just as sad and bitter anyone I had crossed assumed me to be. It's not that I love acting the way I do, but it's the only way I feel people respect me and I feel like such a fraud. All that 'badass persona' came from a place of insecurity and I truly hate that because once upon a time I used to hate people like me.

I hated being cruel and I hated people like Bakugo who force it out of me. Man, I hate that guy.

At least my apartment was pretty. The first thing I did when I bought it was paint the living room walls pink, soft and unapologetic. My old paintings from high school and college filled the walls, tangled between photos of my dad, my older sisters, my brother, and me together back home in Osaka. Behind the couch, a couple of small bookshelves were crammed with books I’d read too many times, and across from it sat the TV I loved to watch my k-dramas on. But my favorite part was the floor-to-ceiling window, pouring light into the room during the day and city glow at night. Here, surrounded by all of this, I didn’t have to be anyone’s boss. Just… me.

I finally got up from the comfort of my couch (still in my socks) and walked over to the kitchen connected to my living room. I opened the cabinet and grabbed a glass, my hands still jittery from the day. As I twisted the tap open, my thoughts refused to leave Bakugo behind. The argument, his smug tone, the infuriating way he choked his head to the side—everything replayed in my head on a loop.

I barely noticed the glass filling, lost in my own irritation, until water spilled over the edge and ran across the counter. My hands shook as I grabbed a towel, muttering under my breath, Great.

I padded over the window, glass of water still in hand and leaned my forehead lightly against the cool glass. The city stretched out beneath me, glittering lights and neon oranges bleeding into the night sky. The sight was always a slight comfort to my troubles. Calmly sipping my water, I notice the clouds are gathering and the blue night sky was becoming grey, promising a storm in the early autumn. I scoffed, how fitting.

When I've had my fill of the sight, I finally pick up my backpack and sneakers among other things I littered around my couch upon my arrival and placed everything where it should be in my bedroom.

I move quickly, slipping off my clothes to go to the bathroom and shower. I just wanted this day over with so that I could sleep as fast as possible. After my shower I made myself two cheese and tomato sandwiches and ate them, still in my bathrobe.

As I finally settled into my bed to sleep in an oversized t-shirt and boxers (yes I buy my own to sleep in they are insanely comfy, nothing was better to sleep in), I promised myself to rise above any attitude a certain short tempered blond had to show.

_________________________________

One thing about me? I love my fat paycheck and my designer brands. Call it shallow or superficial if you will- I call it joy.

Everything I wore was designer- my purse, my heels, my perfume. It's an addiction I refuse to quit.

It's proof of what I do, proof that I can afford shit like this now. Which is why I was happy about my afternoon shift today, because I had time to leisurely pick out my accessories and things.

I opened my concerningly full closet and looked at my shoe rack. My Jimmy Choos, Louboutins, and Prada heels practically sang me good morning. I smiled at them proudly along with my other also very designer heels.

But for hospitals I wear sneakers. Of course nothing but the best, I picked out my blue and white LV sneakers since I haven't worn them in a while and placed them on the floor.

My lab coat and scrubs were already laid out. Jewellery next. I picked out a pretty, thin, Swarovski set— a necklace with a lilypad pendant and similarly designed earrings.

Lastly, I put on my scrubs, stuffed my lab coat into my Adidas backpack, and slipped on my sneakers, touching up my hair and makeup before adding my accessories.

___________________

I stepped out of my car after parking in the garage basement and glanced at my rose‑gold Rolex. 13:50—ten minutes early, as usual.

An engine rev made me turn. An unfamiliar car slid into the space beside mine.

I couldn’t help admiring it—an Audi coupe with tinted windows.
Nicee, who owns this sweet ride.

Said owner stepped out and the smile on my face dropped immediately. It was Bakugo. Audi coupes were a bit overrated anyways.

"Someone finally buy you a watch Bakugo? You're on time." Keeping my voice steady, trying not to sound too surprised at his good taste in cars.

"Yeah, actually. Bought it myself" He flicked his wrist up to show me. Oh. Oh no. We had the same watch model just different finishes.

Why was he a very cultured buyer? Whatever he can't out do me.

His gaze shifted to my car then back to me.
"Pfft, this your car?" He snorted.

"Yeah so what if it is?" I responded folding my arms, fixing him with my reknown annoyed look.

He continued chortling as if he wasn't riling me up. "I-it's just that," he said in between snorts "for such an uptight person this is the last thing I would've expected you owned"

He was clutching his stomach now and I damn near stomped my feet and told him to shut up but I kept my composure, remembering what I promised myself yesterday. Ignore him. I couldn't.

"Why does it bring you so much joy to know my car is pink. Just because I'm a bitch means my car can't be pink ? Huh?! You idiot." That sobered him up.

"Your listening and interpretation skills must have some serious issues lady!" He barked back. "AND DON'T CALL ME AN IDIOT."

"Well you must have some real bipolar issues the way you're provoked so easily. We're gonna be late. Let's go." I said walking off.

"Tch, whatever." He said behind me.
I walked into the building a little faster with a plan in mind, knowing he wouldn't rush to catch up.

I entered the elevator and he was lacking well behind me assuming I would wait for him to enter. I tapped the close button repeatedly feeling very petty.

And right before the elevator door closed, while he was looking at me from afar in utter disbelief at my pettiness I said "And by the way, Audi coupes are super basic."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING BASIC" I heard him yell through the closed elevator doors as I celebrated my victory.

Chapter Text

Y/N POV

The air outside was starting to cool, leaving behind the scorching summer heat as the first leaves began to fall. A gentle breeze rattled the trees as I stared out my office window.

So far the day had gone as usual—checking up on patients, reviewing reports with the surgeons, and slogging through paperwork. It was just me, Bakugo, and one other doctor on duty today, but that was fine. Our patient load was light.

Bakugo Katsuki, as anyone who’d met him would say, was extremely annoying. His belittlement over my car still stung. But damn him—he was excelling at his job, and on his second day at a new workplace no less.

Protocol required I inspect his work today, something I’d been looking forward to. I wanted him to slip up just once, enough to give me an excuse to put him in his place. He didn’t.

He was flawless.

Earlier during inspection I shadowed him through rounds, waiting for him to trip up. Instead he was stupidly efficient—his hands never faltered, his tone kept patients calm, and he finished notes before I could even think to remind him.

Well. The board had been right about him being talented.

They’d also been right about him being "slightly difficult." Right after the inspection (I’d left a lone, bitter note in the misconducts column: had to be reminded to remove rings), a trainee nurse came to complain about Bakugo.

I remembered the exchange.

I’d been enjoying a caramel macchiato when the nurse had burst in, voice trembling. Apparently Bakugo had ripped into him—calling his reports “extremely lazy,” and repeatedly naming him a “pathetic small fry.”

The kid looked shaken, his voice thin as he retold it. I wasn’t sure if he was rattled because of Bakugo, or because he expected me to scold him too.

If he was expecting sympathy or reassurance he was sorely mistaken to come to me.

"Well, that's highly unprofessional." I said monotone.

"But only if your reports aren't extremely lazy and you aren't— what was it he called you?" I put on an air of faux interest as I tapped my index finger on my chin.

“A pathetic small fry, ma’am,” the nurse repeated.

"Well are you?" I tilted my head, mocking.

He blinked, shock and hurt on his face. A flash of guilt passed through me, but I swallowed it down.

“Are you a pathetic small fry?” I continued to goad him.

“No, ma’am.” he finally replied, voice surprisingly steady.

“Then why are you here whining? Suck it up. This isn’t high school, and I sure as hell am not here to sort out his bitch-fits or your complaints.” I took another sip of my coffee but the taste had become quite sour.

The nurse started mouthing something and then closing his mouth again and again. He reminded me of myself when I was new and helpless.

“Thicken that skin of yours, sweetheart, or you won’t last here,” I finally willed myself to say, offering something slightly helpful.

“I’ll talk to Bakugo,” I added, “but don’t make it a habit. It looks bad. He’s set for life; you’re not—yeah?” He nodded so quickly his head bobbed.

“Thank you, ma’am!” He bowed, earnest and grateful.

“Yeah, yeah. Leave,” I said, exasperated. As he hurried away, I called after him, “What’s your name again?”

“Rock Lee, ma’am!” he answered.

That kid yelled a lot. Cute, in an exhausted sort of way.

Now, I sat at my window, sipping a freshly ordered mocha—chocolate this time—and fantasized about all the ways I could throttle that short-tempered, rude bastard.

This called one of my staff a pathetic small fry. I'm a perfectionist; so naturally, all my employees are perfect. How dare someone I hired insult my team.

I gulped down the rest of the drink, feeling the warm sugar buzz calming the anger roaring in my head. I tossed the empty cup in the bin and headed to the second floor.

I am going to end him.

 

BAKUGO POV.

 

Finally, after a hell of a day checking up on patients and telling these idiot nurses how to properly write their reports, I can relax.
Or at least, that’s what I thought.

Here I am, sitting at my desk reviewing patient reports, when someone barges into my office. I already have an inkling who it is, so I don’t look up.

“Bakugo.”

She walks up to me and plants her hands on my desk, her voice dangerously calm.

I don’t look up.

“What’d ya want?” I say boredly, still pretending to read the reports. I shift back slightly, though.
I already know why she’s here, but I can’t resist trying to get a rise out of her.

“Now why would you say that to Mr. Lee?” she asks, lightly tapping her nail on the desk’s surface.

“So that’s the small fry’s name?” I scoff.

“Look at me when I speak to you—and drop the cool-guy act. Everyone knows you throw tantrums.”

Tch. Hag.

I finally look up at her.

“What gives you the impression you can say shit like that to him—or anyone that works here?” she says, folding her arms, a scowl etched deep into her face.

“I can say shit like that ‘cause I’m better, you hear me?” I snap, annoyed at her audacity to lecture me for correcting a trainee nurse.

Wasn’t the whole point of training to teach those beginners how to do it right?

I lean on my desk, closing the distance between us. She doesn’t even flinch.

Her jaw ticks slightly and she raises an eyebrow.

“Ah yes, Katsuki Bakugo, the neurosurgeon, better than a trainee nurse. Truly newsworthy.”
She lets out a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Is it your first time being better than a trainee, Bakugo?”

My eye twitches. I open my mouth to bite back, but she cuts me off.

“No seriously, what’s wrong with you? You good-for-nothing bastard. Speak with courtesy or respect, or so help me God you will face the consequences.”

She’s getting on my nerves—under my skin.
And the worst part? She knows it.

I stand, glaring down at her. I won’t let this control freak look down on me.

She doesn’t move. Still glaring, arms crossed, chin slightly raised like she’s above it all.

“You think the world spins ‘cause you said so?” I mutter. “That trainee of yours almost gave a patient a double dose because he miswrote it on his last report.”

Realisation dawns on her face—finally, something gets through.

“I’m just surprised you missed it,” I add, smirking.
“Little Miss Perfect lets a trainee under her watch almost end a patient’s life.”

“You should be damn thankful,” I continue, my voice rising. “But nah, you come here to complain. Bushy-brows almost kills a patient, but no—following Her Highness’s speech code is way more important, huh?”

I slam a hand on the desk.
“And where d’you get off telling me to speak properly? I’ve seen you—critiquing, nitpicking, acting like a total hag! You’re just as bad as I am, just with an extreme superiority complex and bad coffee breath!”

Her eye twitches. She slams her hands on my desk, leaning forward.

For a second, it feels like the air between us might actually catch fire—then the alarms cut through it.

Sirens.

Chapter Text

Ch4
Sirens- code stroke.

Loud, blaring, sirens cutting through the tension in the room like a knife.

"Shit!" L/N cursed, the previous anger on her face momentarily replaced with worry only for it to come back stronger. She removed her hands from my desk and folded her arms again, glaring at me.

"This isn't over asshole, now move it!" She said, proceeding to turn her back to me and storm out of my office, slamming the door on her way out.

A defeating silence was left in her wake and it took me a few seconds before I processed what happened. At the realization I sprung to action, making my way around my desk to leave the office.

I spot L/N speaking hurriedly to a nurse as they make their way to the elevator, I follow quick on their trail. I recognize the nurse as Hadou, the head nurse that had shown me around yesterday.

"-it's his second stroke this year! Come on it's room A32." I hear her say as I finally catch up to them as we enter the elevator.

Hadou caught me up again on our way up. The patient was a 72year old male and this was his second stroke this year. He had been staying in the hospital for the past two weeks because of some pain he'd been experiencing and it had been decided it's better to keep him here. I cursed the elevator for not moving faster. This definitely wasn't my first time dealing with a stroke but this sounded bad, and the patient could die- just that thought had my stomach lurch uncomfortably.

When we finally made it to the patient's floor, the 3 of us rushed to room A32. the bushy-browned trainee nurse I yelled at earlier meeting us outside the elevator.

Bushy-brows called out as we turned the corner. “Seventy-year-old male! Sudden collapse, prior stroke last year—found unresponsive!”

“Onset?” I barked.

“About ten minutes ago!”

“Vitals?”

“BP ninety over sixty—heart rate irregular!”

“Shit,” I muttered, pushing through the door.

The patient was pale, slack-jawed, breathing shallow. Left side limp as dead weight. One look and I already knew.
Right-sided paralysis. Classic.

“Facial droop,” L/N said beside me, already grabbing the stethoscope. “Pupils unequal.”

“Cardiac rhythm’s off,” I grunted, checking the monitor. “A-fib. Probably an embolic stroke.”

I turned to Hadou. “Call Radiology—non-contrast head CT. Now.”

“Already on it!” she said, voice shaking a bit.

“Then move faster,” I snapped.

“Bakugo,” L/N said, not even looking at me. “Don’t yell. Just focus.”

Her expression was unreadable except for the slight pinch in her brows. She was calm—too calm. Like she’d done this a thousand times before. At work, she was always picking fights and critiquing everything that breathed, but now she was handling everyone and everything with this quiet control I usually didn’t have in moments like this.

I hated that I noticed it. I hated even more that I kind of admired it.

“I am focused.”

I crouched by the bed. “Hey, Mr. Takeda, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can.”

Nothing.

“Unresponsive,” L/N muttered, writing it down. “Starting fluids. Normal saline.”

“Glucose?” I asked.

“Ninety-three.”

“Good. Then we can rule out hypoglycemia.”

Hadou ran back in. “CT’s ready.”

“Let’s go.”

We wheeled the bed down the hall, the alarms still echoing behind us. My pulse matched the siren — fast and heavy

 

---

[CT Room]

The screen lit up gray and ghostly. One look and there it was — the shadow in the left middle cerebral artery.

“Ischemic,” I said. “Not a bleed.”

“tPA candidate?” L/N asked.

“Within window. Let’s hit him with alteplase.”

She nodded once, firm. “Do it.”

I turned to the nurse. “Seventy kilos — full dose. Now.”

She ran.

Ten minutes later, the monitors leveled out. Oxygen up. Color back. The faint rise and fall of his chest evened.

I exhaled, slow. My hands finally stopped shaking.

“We got flow back,” I said, peeling off my gloves.

L/N nodded. “Yeah. We did.”

The room fell quiet. Just the steady rhythm of the heart monitor.

“Guess you don't suck?” I muttered.

She rolled her eyes. “And here I was about to say something nice.”

“Don’t.”

“Fine.”

We stood there, both watching the monitor. Same beat, same silence.

It wasn’t peace. But it was close enough.

_____________________________________________________________

 

Thankfully, the rest of the day had been uneventful. As the clock hit 10 p.m., it was finally time to clock out.

I walked into the locker room and pulled my Jansport backpack from the locker. Ducking into one of the stalls, I changed into my normal clothes and stuffed my scrubs inside. Car keys in hand, I left the room and headed for the elevator—only to find L/N already waiting there.

Of course she was.

Neither of us said anything. No acknowledgment of the earlier truce. No mention of the argument that came before it. Just silence.

The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped in. She pressed the basement button. I fiddled with my keys, spinning them around my finger, the metallic sound echoing in the small space. The tension thickened—so much so I could practically feel her trying not to comment.

“Would you stop with that?” she snapped finally, turning to glare at me.

A wave of irritation—and satisfaction—rushed through me. Getting under her skin was almost too easy.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, ya psycho,” I shot back, shaking my keys harder just to prove the point. Damn hag. I’ll show her.

Her eyebrows shot up, eyes widening slightly. I could practically see the gears turning in her head, trying to figure out how to get back at me. Her gaze flicked to my keys again and again, hands twitching. She was resisting the urge to just snatch them away.

Unfortunately, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open—cutting off what could’ve been a very entertaining meltdown.

She exhaled, straightened up, and gave me a look that could curdle milk. “You’re really immature. Talking to you is a pain. I mourn for your friends and family.” Then she strode out.

I followed, quick on her heels. “I’m a pain? What about you? You lose it every time someone doesn’t follow your every order. You must have a fucking army at home with the way you act like a spoiled brat.”

She ignored me completely, pulling out her car keys and unlocking her car. One quick motion and she was inside, door slammed, engine revving.

I stood there, jaw tight, exasperated. Finally, I stomped toward my own car—parked right beside hers—and got in. My pulse was still racing. I rested my arms on the steering wheel and dropped my head onto them, breathing deep. Road rage wasn’t a joke.

From a distance, I heard her car peel out of the lot.

Finally. I’d had enough of her for today.

___________________________________

 

I pull into the parking lot of my new apartment building. I recently moved here because it’s closer to work. I look around after exiting my car. Even the parking lot is nice, and the building itself is very fancy—most apartments being very spacious, including mine. As I mentally congratulate myself on another great pick, something pink in the corner of my vision catches my eye.

It’s a car. A baby pink Mercedes Benz. An image of L/N’s smug face flashes through my brain, and it’s just galling. No. Just no. Plenty of chicks own this type of car, right? There’s no way she lives here. Yeah. No way.

I exhale, allowing myself to relax.

Walking into the building, someone bumps into me—a much smaller figure. My previous irritation surfaces quickly. “HEY! Watch where you’re going!”

A familiar female voice snaps back with equal vigor: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

It’s L/N. She looks a little less uptight and bossy, but that’s definitely her.

This MUST be some cruel joke from the universe or a twisted fate.

She rubs her hands over her eyes as if to make sure she’s seeing things right. I can’t believe I’m seeing things right either. I take her in.

Her hair is down, and she’s wearing a dark blue tracksuit. The jacket hangs open over a black crop top. I look back up to her face—her pink lips still forming an ‘O’ shape—and feel a sense of dread wash over me as she lets out an exasperated laugh.

“Are you stalking me, you sick fuck?” Her arms cross defensively over her chest.

Of course, that’s the conclusion she jumps to.

“No, stupid. I live here,” I reply, already tired of the conversation we’re about to have. I genuinely can’t bring myself to anger.

“No. No, you don’t. I live here." She insists.

“No. No, you don’t. I live here," she insists.
"I moved in like a week ago, dumbass, and it’s an apartment building—multiple people live in them."

That struck a nerve.

"Don’t you mansplain apartment buildings to me," she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously, "—and move out, by the way! I cannot possibly live in the same building as you."

"Alright, princess, I’m not exactly thrilled about this either! But I am not moving out, try as you might. This place is near work. Now, you might be the most irritating sight before and during a long day of work, but I’m going to avoid you, and I’m assuming you’ll do the same to me. So for the love of God, would you please carry on with whatever it is you were about to do and stop boring me to death with your tantrums?" I reply, hearing my voice shake with irritation. Did she really just tell me to move out? What a brat.

"AND WHAT ON GOD’S EARTH IS MANSPLAINING?" I continue.

She blinked, taken aback.

"You’ll be kicked out soon for all that yelling of yours anyway. I’m going to the convenience store," L/N said calmly as she walked away from me.

I watched her go, her hair moving with the soft autumn wind.

"Yeah, who cares?!" I responded, not sure which of her statements I was reacting to.

Chapter Text

Y/N’s POV

This has to be a joke.
A cruel, twisted joke the universe was playing on me.

I looked up at the sky. The night was thick and lightless, clouds covering everything above. The strong wind blew cold against my face, my hair flying into it with every gust.

My mind was reeling as I walked toward the convenience store, almost crossing the road before remembering to look both ways.

This morning my landlord told me a new tenant had moved into the apartment below me. I just can’t believe it’s him. The only reason I was going to the convenience store was because I wanted to bake my new neighbor a cake. What am I even doing now?

I kicked the light pole beside me and let out an angry huff. There’s no way I’m baking anything for that asshole—and if I did, I’d poison it.

He just has to be everywhere. In my hospital, in the elevator, in the parking lot, and now in my building? Ugh, this is ridiculous.

I crossed the road and entered the convenience store. Great. Now what?

I considered buying the ingredients anyway since cake sounded good, but I ultimately decided against it. I looked around.

I spotted the beers in the fridge and remembered I was out at home—much more useful than baking ingredients for Bakugo.

I walked out still angry but a little relieved. He did say he’d avoid me after all. That doesn’t sound like a bad offer.

I got home and entered my apartment, locking the door behind me. I placed the beer in the fridge and sank onto my couch, settling comfortably.

A ping came from my phone. Fishing it out, I saw it was my older sister, Hana.

Hana: Hi sweets, I miss you so much. Think you’d be done with your shift around now, and we haven’t caught up in a while. Do you want to call?

A smile involuntarily spread across my face. Hana was the third child in our family, and I was the fourth and last. We were the closest in age, and our bond was like no other.

Me: Hi Hanaa, miss you so much more. Yeah, let’s call.

Her caller ID popped up on my screen almost immediately, and I answered.

“Hi, Y/N!” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Hi, Hanaa. I missed you.” I smiled, kicking off my trainers.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” she said fondly, her pet names soothing my heart.

“Catch me up—what’s going on with you, with Dad and the rest?” I asked, lifting my legs to rest over the couch’s armrest.

She rambled about our dad and his new motorcycle obsession, our brother Rin and his family, and how our sister Yachi couldn’t stand his kids. Even about her new boyfriend and her job.

“Okay, enough about us,” Hana sighed. “What’s going on with you, love?”

“Oh, Hanaa, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” I said exasperatedly.

I caught her up on this week’s drama at the hospital—Bakugo joining, our argument in the parking lot, and finding out he’s my neighbor. She gasped and hummed in all the right places, ever the perfect audience.

“I can’t even do anything about it. He’s so cocky and loud, but his skills genuinely back it up tenfold. I couldn’t get rid of him if I wanted to. And, I mean, it was a bit unreasonable of me to tell him to move out. But yeah, that’s all.”

“I mean, you both should ignore each other, duh. But you’re easily provoked and very bossy, Y/N, and it sounds like he’s easily provoked and bad at listening. There’s no stopping this chaos unless you somehow become the bigger person—which you’re incapable of doing,” she said, chewing something mid-sentence.

“I am NOT easily provoked or bossy! He said I have a superiority complex and bad coffee breath. I almost cried after. I don’t have bad breath. How could he?!” I whined.

“Not even gonna deny the superiority complex, baby sis?” she chuckled fondly.

I scoffed lightly.

“Anyway, I gotta go. I have work early tomorrow. Don’t let that guy get to you, and keep your head up, sweets. I love you!”

“Bye, Hanaa. Love you too.”

The call ended, and I stayed in the same position, thinking over what she said. Maybe I should be the bigger person. I won’t let him get to me.

I remembered the way his sharp jaw clenched and those red eyes glared—how deep loathing and frustration always came with it.

No. I’ll be stronger. He’ll know his place soon anyway. I’m the HOD for a reason.

 

---

Bakugo’s POV

It was finally the weekend, so some old friends and I decided to meet up for drinks.

I tied my shoelaces, securing them, and headed out. Finally, a chance to blow off some steam.

The whole group was a pain in the ass a lot of the time, but I’ve known them since high school, and though I’ll never admit it, I always have a good time.

The sun began to set, glowing orange over the city as I drove. My thoughts kept circling back to her.

She irritated me—no doubt. The way she always tried to boss me around and tell me what to do. But that’s not even what I was thinking about. My mind kept going back to her lips and her eyes.

That image of her—hair down, dressed comfortably, that damn crop top—was stuck in my head.

Fuck. Okay, maybe she was attractive. Very attractive. But her personality ruined it. I’d never be with her. This was just... a natural reaction.

I pulled into the parking lot in front of the bar, shaking her angry face from my mind. It’d been twenty-four hours and she was still driving me insane.

Inside, at a booth in the back, I spotted them—Kirishima Eijirou, Izuku Midoriya, and Uraraka Ochako. They waved me over.

I walked up and dapped up Kirishima first.

“Hey man! It’s been a while. You’ve been busy moving and that new job,” Kirishima said.

“Yeah, yeah. Missed you too or whatever.”

“Hey Kacchan!” Izuku smiled, sitting across from Kirishima and beside Uraraka, his girlfriend.

“Pssht, no need to look so happy, Deku. Hi.” I turned to Uraraka, flicking her forehead. “How are you, pink cheeks?”

She blushed, puffing her cheeks. “Stop calling me that, would you, Bakugo?”

Deku chuckled beside her.

Kirishima laughed. “Same as always, you guys.”

I slid in beside Kirishima. “Is it just us today?”

“Nah, Mina’s on her way. But come on, Bakubro, update us. You’ve been dead silent.”

“Yeah, Kacchan!” Deku added. “Your mom told my mom you live in a really nice apartment building now.”

“Jeez, Deku, you sit next to your mom when she’s on the phone or somethin’?” I smirked. “Yeah, I do, and I started the new job two days ago.”

“Well, how is it?” Uraraka asked. “Does it meet your impossibly high stan—”

“Hey everyone!! Sorry I’m late! Traffic was insane!” Mina Ashido’s voice cut her off.

“Hey, Bakugoooo!” she grinned. “Long time no see, you little shit.”

She greeted Izuku, hugged Uraraka, whispered something that made them both giggle, and finally turned to Kirishima.

“Hi, baby.” She smiled and kissed his cheek, her jewelry jingling as she moved. Kirishima leaned into her touch, grinning.

“Your boyfriend’s sitting in my spot, Ei,” Mina teased.

“For fuck’s sake, Mina, don’t go saying shit like that. Not my boyfriend. Too ugly.” I scooted to give her space.

“Hey, man, that’s not nice! I’m pretty and manly, not ugly!”

We bickered until the waitress came to take our orders.

After the food and drinks arrived, Izuku spoke up. “Kacchan, you still didn’t tell us what you think of your new job.”

“Ooh, yeah, how is it, Bakugo?” Mina added.

I sighed. “Well, the job’s great actually—”

They all smiled, expecting more good news.

“—but my HOD? She’s just—she thinks she can tell me what to do. Doesn’t let me talk how I want. Thinks she rules the world.”

“Baku-bro, you do know she’s technically your boss, right?” Kirishima said, scratching his head.

“Yeah, Kacchan,” Deku added, “and I don’t think your manner of speaking is very polite. No wonder she doesn’t like it.”

“Yeah, Bakugo, consider listening to her a bit more,” Mina chimed in.

“Tch. So much for support.” I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of beer. “She’s a damn hag. You guys won’t believe the shit she’s said.”

I told them everything—beginning to end. My emotions rose again just remembering her words.

“Who does she think she is?” I slammed my beer on the table. “Telling me to move out? Fucking brat—like she owns the damn building.”

Silence. Then Mina burst out laughing, covering her face. “Sorry, sorry, but this is SUCH a medical drama plot.”

Kirishima nodded. “Wow, man. You’re right though—telling you to move out wasn’t manly. You guys should talk it out.”

“As if we could have a conversation. All she does is argue and be a loudmouth.”

“You do that too, Bakugo,” Uraraka said, smirking. “What, can’t handle yourself?”

“Hey! We’re nothing alike. An extra like her could never be as good as me.”

“Don’t let anyone stop you from reaching your goals, Kacchan. Do not move out,” Deku said earnestly.

I cringed at how cheesy that sounded but nodded. “Duh. See, Deku’s the only one here with a brain.” I punched his shoulder, earning an ow.

“That’s why my mom makes him food,” I added.

Everyone laughed, the air warm and easy as the night went on.

---

(MONDAY)

Y/N's POV

The board recently had some new ideas they wanted to introduce to the hospital and today, I was supposed to inform the staff on the details.
I entered the staffroom, greeting everyone and preparing to get started when suddenly
the door swung open, Bakugo standing behind it, slightly out of breath.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked — his broad chest rising and falling beneath his scrubs, his damp blond hair sticking to his forehead, somehow bringing the whole look together.

I caught a few nurses smiling shyly at him, tucking their hair behind their ears and blushing.

An uneasy feeling tugged at my chest witnessing their behavior, and I foolishly turned to see Bakugo’s reaction.

He paid them no mind, eyes scanning the meeting room for the first time. I didn’t know why that knowledge satisfied me.

Turning back to my presentation, I spoke without looking at him.

“Bakugo,” I said flatly, “late again.”

He scoffed. When I turned to grab my clipboard, I caught him smirking — sitting proudly in his chair, legs spread, arms folded, muscles pulling at his uniform. His head was tilted to the side, and that smug expression made my stomach flip. His face agitated me. Who the hell did he think he was?

Throughout the entire meeting, he stayed the same — staring at me with those ruby eyes. Anyone could tell he was confident, from the way he sat to the look on his face.

When the meeting concluded, I told myself to be the bigger person. But I couldn’t resist the urge to rile him up. He gave me the perfect opportunity by staying behind when everyone else left.

I walked up to his chair and leaned forward, placing my hands on the staff table behind it — caging him in.

 

---

Bakugo’s POV

This woman had a serious issue with personal space.

Why was she so close? Our faces were inches apart, and I could feel mine start to burn.

“So, what did you get from the meeting, Bakugo? Or were you too busy staring at me?” she said, smiling viciously, looking down at me.

My heart raced — I couldn’t place why — but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her win.

“Don’t flatter yourself, princess.” I raised my gaze to meet hers.

Our eyes met, and I froze. I couldn’t look away. I forgot where I was, what I wanted to say.

Her scent hit me — roses, with a faint trace of chocolate and coffee. It flooded my senses. Her eyes caught me, endless and steady, and for a moment I felt like I was drowning.

She leaned in closer, and my brain completely short-circuited.

“Then what did I say?” she arched a perfect brow.

My gaze slipped — from her eyes to her lips. Light red, a little glossy, moving in slow motion as she spoke.

“Bakugo! If you were focusing, then tell me what I said.” Her voice snapped sharper now.

I forced myself to focus again, feeling overwhelmed but managing to speak.

“Back up, shithead!” I barked, pushing her hands off the table behind me — firm enough to make her move but not hurt her.

She let me, eyes widening just a fraction.

Once she was out of my space, I could breathe again.

“You explained the new machines and meds we’ve got coming in,” I said flatly.

“I also mentioned that we’ll be testing new surgical techniques next week.” She crossed her arms, smirking like she’d won. “I want a summary of this meeting on my desk by tomorrow. I’m authorized to do that, and I can penalize you for not writing it. I’ll send you the presentation.”

I glared up at her. I couldn’t stand this woman — but hell, I wasn’t backing down either.

“I’ll write the damn summary,” I muttered, “but I thought we agreed to avoid each other. What’s with you? Can’t resist a fight? Can’t resist me?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“All you do is hover and nag,” I added. “Do something useful around here for once.”

Her eye twitched. Her hands trembled with anger before landing on her hips as she stepped toward me again.

I expected another lecture — one of her long-winded speeches about respect or teamwork or whatever else she thought I needed.

But instead, her expression shifted — eyes widening, something devious flickering in them.

“Don’t you worry about having to avoid me,” she said in a low tone that sent an unexpected chill down my spine.

“I’m not worried about shit,” I shot back.

She chuckled, brushing past me toward the door. Her ponytail swayed behind her, confidence radiating off her like heat.

She looked way too pleased with herself.

Whatever she’d just thought of, I had a bad feeling about it.