Katsuki's eyes snapped open. The transition from the strange, hazy dream to the stark reality of the Fairy Tail guild hall was jarring. The first thing that hit him was the noise – the familiar, boisterous cacophony of a guild already in full swing. Laughter, shouts, the clanking of tankards, the occasional, poorly aimed magical spell. Sunlight, bright and unforgiving, streamed through the tall windows, indicating it was well past morning.
He sat up abruptly, his head swimming for a moment. He was on the sofa in the small lounge area behind the bar, a thin blanket haphazardly thrown over him. He was still in the infirmary pajamas. His crimson eyes scanned the room, trying to piece together how he'd gotten here. The last thing he clearly remembered was storming back to the guild, demanding his key from Mirajane, and then… blackness.
"Oh, I fainted," he muttered, a scowl forming as the humiliating memory solidified. Twice in as many days. Pathetic. And then… a fleeting, frustratingly vague recollection from his dream surfaced. A blurry figure. A soft voice. A strange, warm sensation… on his lips? He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. "And someone did something… but I can't remember who or what." The details were like smoke, slipping through his mental grasp, leaving only a lingering, unsettling feeling.
He pushed himself off the sofa, his body still stiff but surprisingly rested. He needed answers. And food. Mostly answers. Then food. Or maybe food first.
He stalked out from behind the bar area into the main hall, his sudden appearance in pajamas drawing a few amused glances and wolf-whistles, which he promptly silenced with a glare that could curdle milk. His eyes immediately locked onto Mirajane, who was, as always, a picture of serene efficiency, expertly juggling orders and placating rowdy guild members.
"Oi, Mira!" Katsuki barked, his voice still rough from sleep, cutting through the din. He stomped over to the bar, leaning over it aggressively, his usual intimidating posture firmly back in place despite his ridiculous attire. "Who touched me when I was sleeping?!"
His demand was loud, accusatory, and utterly devoid of context for the surrounding guild members, who paused in their revelries, their expressions ranging from confused to intrigued. Natsu, who had been attempting to arm-wrestle Elfman, stopped mid-match, an eyebrow raised. Lucy choked on her fruit juice.
Mirajane turned to him, her smile as bright and innocent as the morning sun, though her eyes, if one looked very, very closely, held a tiny, almost invisible spark of pure, unadulterated mischief. She placed a freshly polished tankard on the counter, her movements calm and unhurried.
"Touched you, Bakugo-san?" she repeated, her head tilted in an expression of perfect, angelic bewilderment. "Whatever do you mean? You fainted, rather dramatically, I might add, right here in the guild hall last night after demanding your key." She gestured vaguely towards the spot where he'd collapsed. "Several of us were concerned, of course. It wouldn't do to have one of our newest members expiring from exhaustion on the floorboards."
She paused, then continued, her voice laced with a subtle, almost maternal concern that Katsuki was beginning to find deeply suspicious. "After your… episode… it was decided that moving you to the infirmary yet again might be… overly taxing. So, with a little help from a few kind souls," (here, she conveniently omitted the fact that she had mostly manhandled him herself), "we simply made you comfortable on the lounge sofa. You've been sleeping quite soundly ever since. Until now, that is."
Katsuki stared at her, his eyes narrowed. Her explanation was plausible. Too plausible. And it didn't address the strange, lingering sensations from his dream, the feeling of a specific, gentle interaction that went beyond just being moved to a sofa.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it, you damn she-devil in a dress!" he snarled, leaning closer. "Someone… someone was there. While I was out. I felt it." He couldn't quite articulate what he'd felt – the blurry figure, the soft voice, the phantom warmth – without sounding like a complete lunatic, but his gut, his instincts, were screaming that something more had happened. "Did Natsu or one of those other idiots try to draw on my face again? Or put ice down my pants?" He wouldn't put it past them.
Mirajane's smile didn't waver. If anything, it became even sweeter, almost beatific. "Oh, Bakugo-san, such an imagination! I assure you, Natsu-san was far too busy celebrating your earlier sparring victory – and then nursing his subsequent defeat – to engage in such… creative endeavors. And Gray-san, well, I believe he was rather preoccupied with finding all the pieces of his dignity after your… unique re-dressing methods."
She placed a delicate hand over her heart. "As for anyone else… I was here, locking up. I made sure no one disturbed your much-needed rest. You were simply sleeping, Bakugo-san. Perhaps you were having a rather vivid dream?" She looked at him with an expression of such pure, unadulterated innocence that it was almost blinding. "Sometimes, after extreme exertion, the mind can play tricks, can't it?"
Katsuki stared at her, a frustrated growl rumbling in his chest. She was stonewalling him, expertly, infuriatingly. He knew, with a certainty that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the prickling sensation on the back of his neck, that she was hiding something. That she was the blurry figure from his dream. That she was the one who had…
But he had no proof. No concrete memory. Just a lingering, unsettling feeling and her infuriatingly serene, all-knowing smile.
He let out an explosive sigh, running a hand through his already spiky hair, making it stand up even more. "Fine. Whatever. Just… get me some damn food. And my key. And if I find out Natsu's drawn dicks on my forehead while I was out, I'm holding you responsible for not stopping him, you damn enabler!"
Mirajane just chuckled, a light, musical sound. "Of course, Bakugo-san. Breakfast, and your key, coming right up." She turned to prepare his order, her back to him, and for a fleeting, unobserved moment, her angelic smile transformed into a tiny, secretive, and utterly triumphant smirk.
He didn't remember. Not really. Perfect. This was going to be even more fun than she'd anticipated. The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight had no idea what kind of delightful, subtle torments his all-knowing, secretly affectionate (and now, secretly kissing) barmaid had in store for him. The game was well and truly afoot.
Katsuki was halfway to slumping back onto the barstool, resigned to another round of Mirajane's infuriating evasiveness, when a sudden, sharp realization lanced through the fog of his exhaustion and hunger. His eyes snapped open, wider this time, a new, more specific accusation forming.
"Wait!" he barked, his voice sharp again, all traces of weariness momentarily forgotten. He pointed a finger at his own pajama-clad chest. "Then how the FUCK did I get into these clothes?!" He gestured around the bustling guild hall. "And none of these other damn extras are acting like they got a free peep show! If I fainted face-first on the floor in whatever rags I was wearing after that Kraken fight, and then got dragged onto a sofa, someone would have seen… everything!"
His gaze, sharp as obsidian shards, pinned Mirajane, who had paused in the act of reaching for a skillet. "And you," he continued, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl, each word dripping with suspicion, "you're the only one I remember being here when I came back for my key! You were the one closing up! You'd be the only one in my immediate goddamn space when I fainted!"
The pieces were clicking together in his mind, the vague, unsettling dream sensations suddenly finding a potential anchor in reality. The blurry figure… the soft voice… the gentle touch… and that infuriatingly knowing, innocent smile she was still wearing.
A vein throbbed in his temple. His face, which had been pale with exhaustion, began to flush a dark, furious red. He leaned even further over the bar, his voice a raw, incredulous whisper that still managed to cut through the surrounding noise.
"Liar!" he hissed, his crimson eyes blazing with a mixture of dawning horror, outrage, and a strange, unfamiliar heat that had nothing to do with anger. "You're the one who… who…" He couldn't quite bring himself to say it aloud, not here, not now, but the accusation was clear, burning in his gaze. The phantom warmth on his lips from his dream suddenly felt very, very real. "You… you're the one who KISSED ME!"
The declaration, though delivered in a fierce, accusatory whisper, seemed to suck all the air out of the immediate vicinity of the bar. The few guild members close enough to overhear – Cana, Macao, Wakaba, who had been nursing their morning ales – froze, their tankards halfway to their lips, their eyes widening to comical proportions. Even Natsu, who had been trying to sneak a piece of bacon off Elfman's plate, paused, his head tilting like a confused puppy.
Mirajane Strauss, for the first time since Katsuki Bakugo had exploded into her life, looked… genuinely, utterly, and completely flustered.
Her serene smile didn't just falter; it shattered. A brilliant, uncontrollable blush, the color of ripe strawberries, flooded her face, from her neck to the tips of her ears. Her sapphire eyes, usually so calm and knowing, widened in a way that was almost… panicked. She dropped the skillet with a loud, metallic clang that echoed in the sudden, ringing silence.
"I… I… Bakugo-san!" she stammered, her voice, usually so smooth and melodic, cracking with an adorable, uncharacteristic squeak. She took a step back from the bar, her hands fluttering nervously. "W-whatever are you… what an outrageous… I mean… kissed you? Preposterous! Why would I ever…?"
Her denial was a chaotic, flailing mess, utterly devoid of her usual cool composure. She looked less like the serene, all-knowing barmaid and more like a startled kitten caught with its paw in the cream pitcher. The evidence of her guilt was written all over her blushing, stammering face.
Katsuki stared at her, his own initial fury momentarily forgotten in the face of her spectacular, uncharacteristic meltdown. He had expected a denial, a deflection, more infuriatingly calm teasing. He had not expected… this. This complete, unadulterated, and frankly, rather endearing, panic.
A slow, dangerous, and undeniably triumphant smirk began to spread across his face. He had her. He actually had her. The unflappable Mirajane Strauss, caught red-handed (or rather, red-lipped).
"Preposterous, huh?" he drawled, his voice regaining its familiar, arrogant edge, though now it was laced with a predatory amusement. He leaned even closer, his crimson eyes glinting. "Then explain the pajamas, 'Mira'. Explain why no one else in this damn nuthouse is making cracks about seeing my ass. Explain why I woke up feeling like someone tucked me in like a damn baby." He paused, his smirk widening. "And explain why you're currently the color of Erza's hair."
Mirajane just sputtered, unable to form a coherent sentence, her usual eloquence completely abandoning her. She looked around wildly, as if seeking an escape route, but she was trapped behind the bar, with Katsuki Bakugo, the object of her secret affections (and her secret kiss), looming over her, his expression one of pure, unadulterated, and victorious accusation.
The surrounding guild members were now staring with undisguised, open-mouthed fascination. This was better than any sparring match. This was high drama. This was… unbelievable.
Katsuki let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, a sound of pure, triumphant satisfaction. He didn't know what to make of it, this whole… kissing thing. It was confusing, weird, and made his stomach do strange, unfamiliar flip-flops. But one thing was certain: he had finally, finally, managed to crack Mirajane Strauss's infamous composure. And that, in itself, felt like a victory almost as satisfying as taking down Natsu, Gray, and Gajeel combined.
"So," he said, his voice a low, dangerous purr, his eyes still locked on her blushing, flustered face. "About that kiss, 'She-Devil'…"
The game had indeed taken a very sharp, very personal, and infinitely more complicated – and entertaining – turn. And Katsuki Bakugo, for once, felt like he might actually be holding some of the cards.
---
"Liar! You're the one who kissed me!"
The words, hissed with such furious, triumphant certainty, struck Mirajane with the force of a physical blow. Her carefully constructed facade of serene amusement, her playful evasiveness, her subtle machinations – they all crumbled to dust in an instant.
Oh, crap!
Her mind, usually so quick, so adept at navigating any social situation, went utterly, terrifyingly blank. One thought, and one thought only, screamed through the sudden, panicked void:
He knows!
Her heart, which had been fluttering with a delightful, mischievous anticipation, now felt like it was trying to beat its way out of her chest, each thud a deafening drum of pure, unadulterated panic. The heat that had been a pleasant warmth of secret affection now blazed across her cheeks, her neck, her entire being, with the intensity of Natsu's most enthusiastic Fire Dragon's Roar.
Oh, crap! Oh, crap! Oh, crap! The internal mantra repeated, a frantic, desperate rhythm. How could he know? She had been so careful! He had been unconscious! It was supposed to be her secret, her tiny, stolen moment of sweet, reckless indulgence!
"Then explain the pajamas, 'Mira'. Explain why no one else in this damn nuthouse is making cracks about seeing my ass. Explain why I woke up feeling like someone tucked me in like a damn baby."
Her mind scrambled, desperately trying to formulate a plausible denial, a witty deflection, anything to regain control of the situation. But his logic, however aggressively delivered, was… sound. Damnably sound. She had been the one to change him, to ensure his… dignity… was preserved while he was vulnerable. A task she had undertaken with a mixture of practical necessity and a level of tender, meticulous care she hadn't even fully acknowledged to herself at the time. And yes, she had tucked him in. Perhaps a little too… maternally. Or not quite maternally enough, given the subsequent… incident.
"And explain why you're currently the color of Erza's hair."
Oh, sweet mother of all magic, he'd noticed the blush. The uncontrollable, irrefutable, billboard-sized advertisement of her guilt. There was no hiding it, no explaining it away. Her face felt like it was on fire. She probably looked like a particularly flustered tomato.
He caught on! He actually caught on! Oh noooo!
This was a disaster. A beautiful, terrifying, utterly humiliating disaster. Her carefully laid plans for gentle teasing, for subtle manipulation, for slowly drawing him into the fold of Fairy Tail through playful power dynamics – all of it had just been blown to smithereens by one direct, unerringly accurate accusation.
She wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She wanted to transform into her She-Devil form and fly away, or perhaps just use her Satan Soul to blast a hole in the wall and escape. But she was trapped, pinned by his blazing crimson gaze, her usual arsenal of wit and charm utterly failing her.
He was smirking now. That arrogant, infuriating, and suddenly far too knowing smirk. He knew. And he was enjoying this. Thoroughly.
"So," he purred, his voice dripping with a dangerous, predatory amusement that made her shiver for entirely new reasons, "About that kiss, 'She-Devil'…"
He even remembered her old moniker. Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad. Or… was it?
A tiny, hysterical giggle threatened to escape her. The sheer, mortifying absurdity of the situation – Mirajane Strauss, the master manipulator, the serene enigma, being called out, flustered beyond belief, by the guild's resident human hand grenade over a stolen kiss… it was almost… funny. In a terrifying, heart-stopping, I-think-I-might-faint-myself sort of way.
Her carefully constructed world of playful control had just been spectacularly, explosively, and rather delightfully, upended. And all because of one impulsive, reckless, and utterly unforgettable kiss.
Oh, Katsuki Bakugo, her panicked mind still managed to whisper with a strange, new, and terrifyingly exhilarating fondness, what in the seven hells have you done to me? And more importantly, what in the seven hells was she going to do now?
---
Katsuki leaned further over the bar, the triumphant, predatory glint in his crimson eyes intensifying. He had her. The unflappable, all-knowing Mirajane Strauss, reduced to a blushing, stammering mess by one well-aimed accusation. The power dynamic had shifted, spectacularly, and he was going to savor every single, delicious moment of it.
His voice, when he spoke again, dropped to a low, deliberately provocative purr, a husky timbre that he hadn't intended but which seemed to emerge naturally, fueled by a potent cocktail of amusement, triumph, and a strange, unfamiliar thrum of… something else. Something that made the air between them crackle with an entirely new kind of tension.
"Now, Mirajane…" He let her first name linger, tasting it, savoring the way it seemed to make her flinch almost imperceptibly. "…Be a good girl… and tell the truth."
The words, dripping with a playful, almost seductive authority, landed like a perfectly placed Stun Grenade in Mirajane's already overloaded senses. "Good girl?" The condescending endearment, the husky intimacy of his tone… it sent a jolt, a shiver, right down her spine, igniting a fresh wave of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with a sudden, dizzying awareness of him, not just as a volatile guildmate, but as a… man. A very intense, very dangerous, and right now, very, very close man.
Her carefully constructed composure didn't just crack; it atomized.
"I— W-well— It wasn't— I mean, you were— You looked so—!" Mirajane sputtered, her sapphire eyes wide and luminous, her blush deepening to a shade that rivaled the ripest tomato. Coherent thought completely abandoned her. All her years of experience managing rowdy mages, dealing with dark guilds, even her own formidable demonic transformations, had not prepared her for this – for Katsuki Bakugo, looking at her like that, speaking to her in that voice, after she had… well, after she had kissed him senseless while he was unconscious.
The surrounding guild members, who had been trying (and failing) to feign disinterest, were now absolutely riveted. This was gold. Pure, unadulterated Fairy Tail gold. Cana had actually stopped drinking, her jaw agape. Macao and Wakaba were leaning so far forward on their stools they were in danger of toppling over. Natsu, Gray, and Gajeel, who had been carted off to the infirmary by a stern-faced Wendy after Katsuki's earlier victory declaration, were blissfully unaware of the high drama unfolding at the bar, which was probably for the best, as their combined presence would likely have turned this delicate (if explosive) romantic tension into a full-blown property-destroying brawl.
Lucy was scribbling furiously in a small notebook she'd produced from somewhere, a determined, almost manic gleam in her eyes. This was material for her novel, prime material!
Under the weight of Katsuki's unwavering, knowing gaze, and the almost palpable curiosity of the entire guild hall, Mirajane's carefully constructed defenses finally, spectacularly, imploded.
"Alright! YES! Fine! I did it!" The confession burst out of her, a rushed, breathless torrent of words, her voice a mixture of mortification, exasperation, and a surprising, undeniable thread of defiance. "You… you fainted! Again! And you looked so… so… vulnerable! And… and peaceful, for once! And I just… I don't know! It was… an impulse! A momentary lapse in judgment! You were just… there! And I… I kissed you! Okay?! Are you happy now, you… you infuriating, explosive… man-child?!"
She finished, panting slightly, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing with a mixture of embarrassment and a strange, exhilarating relief at finally having confessed. She glared at him, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that she still looked like she might spontaneously combust from sheer mortification.
Katsuki Bakugo just stared at her, his earlier triumphant smirk slowly morphing into an expression of stunned, almost bewildered disbelief. He had expected a denial, an argument, perhaps even a playful counter-attack. He had not expected… a full, unadulterated, and slightly hysterical confession, complete with an insult.
The guild hall erupted. Not in cheers this time, but in a collective, disbelieving gasp, followed by a wave of excited, scandalized whispers and a few outright whoops of astonished delight (mostly from Cana, who immediately proposed a new betting pool on what would happen next).
Mirajane Strauss, the serene, untouchable Ice Queen of Fairy Tail (or so many thought), the former She-Devil whose wrath was legendary, had just confessed to impulsively kissing their newest, most volatile, and arguably most dangerous guildmate while he was unconscious.
Katsuki just continued to stare at her, his mind struggling to process. She… she'd actually admitted it. And called him an infuriating, explosive man-child. Which was… probably fair, actually.
A slow, almost dazed grin began to spread across his face. This… this was even better than he'd thought. The game had just escalated to a whole new, terrifyingly entertaining level.
"Hah…" he finally managed, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "So, the 'She-Devil' has a soft spot after all, huh?" He leaned even closer, his voice dropping back to that low, husky purr, though now it was laced with a teasing, almost affectionate amusement. "And here I thought you were just good at polishing glasses and making people miserable with your niceness."
Mirajane just glared at him, though her blush, if possible, deepened further. She looked like she wanted to either kiss him again or throttle him. Or possibly both. Simultaneously.
Oh, yes. Things in Fairy Tail were about to get very, very interesting indeed. And Katsuki Bakugo, for once, found himself looking forward to the chaos with something other than pure, explosive rage. This… this could be fun.
---
Katsuki was still savoring his moment of stunned, triumphant disbelief, that slow, dazed grin spreading across his face as Mirajane's flustered confession echoed in the suddenly very attentive guild hall. He was processing her words – "vulnerable," "peaceful," "impulse," and, most notably, "infuriating, explosive man-child." He'd been called worse. But the sheer, unadulterated honesty of it, coming from her, was… disarming. And a little bit thrilling.
He was just about to deliver another teasing, provocative remark, to perhaps push her even further off balance, when Mirajane, in a move that no one, least of all Katsuki, could have possibly anticipated, did something utterly, magnificently, and terrifyingly Mirajane.
The last vestiges of her flustered embarrassment seemed to vanish, replaced by a sudden, incandescent blaze of something else entirely – a fierce, possessive, almost predatory light in her sapphire eyes. The air around her, which had been crackling with mortification, now seemed to shimmer with a different kind of energy, something akin to her dormant She-Devil aura, but infused with a raw, undeniable passion.
Before Katsuki could even register the shift, before his battle-honed reflexes could react, she moved.
With a speed that was truly demonic, she leaned across the bar, her earlier hesitation completely gone. One hand shot out, not to slap him, not to push him away, but to grapple the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his spiky ash-blond hair, her grip surprisingly, electrifyingly strong. She pulled him forward, off balance, his face just inches from hers.
And then, with a small, triumphant, almost feral sound deep in her throat, she kissed him.
This was no hesitant, dream-like whisper of contact. This was a kiss of startling, breathtaking intensity, a kiss that was both a claim and a challenge, a kiss that tasted of strawberries, pent-up frustration, a surprising, fierce tenderness, and the undeniable, intoxicating thrill of a gamble won. It was a kiss that stole the air from his lungs, sent a jolt like a lightning strike straight down his spine, and made his mind, which had just been reeling from her confession, go completely, blissfully, terrifyingly blank.
Her lips were soft, yet demanding, moving against his with a confidence that belied her earlier fluster. He could feel the frantic, wild beating of her heart against his chest, or perhaps it was his own. The scent of her – sweet, floral, with an undercurrent of something uniquely, dangerously Mirajane – enveloped him, intoxicating him.
And just as he was beginning to process what was happening, just as a confused, instinctive response was beginning to form in his own body, she pulled back, just slightly, her sapphire eyes blazing into his crimson ones, her expression a mixture of fierce determination, triumphant possession, and a touch of breathless, exhilarating panic at her own audacity.
Then, in a voice that was no longer flustered, no longer teasing, but filled with a raw, undeniable conviction that resonated through the stunned silence of the entire guild hall, Mirajane Strauss, the serene barmaid, the former She-Devil, the woman who had just stolen two kisses from the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, declared:
"You're MINE!"
The words, a possessive, almost primal claim, echoed in the sudden, absolute stillness. Katsuki Bakugo, who had faced down monsters, dark guilds, and three of Fairy Tail's strongest mages without flinching, just stared at her, his mind a complete, short-circuited blank, his lips still tingling, the imprint of her kiss a brand hotter than any explosion.
The guild members, who had been collectively holding their breath, finally remembered to breathe, a sound like a collective, disbelieving gasp. Cana choked on air, Macao actually did fall off his stool, and Lucy's pen snapped in half.
Mirajane Strauss had just laid claim to Katsuki Bakugo. In front of everyone. With a kiss and a declaration that was as audacious and terrifying as any of his own Super Moves.
Katsuki just continued to stare, his brain attempting to reboot from the sheer, overwhelming system shock. Mirajane. Kissed him. Again. And said… he was hers?
A slow, dazed, and utterly bewildered grin began to spread across his face. This… this was insane. This was certifiable. This was…
This was Fairy Tail.
And Katsuki Bakugo, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, had absolutely no idea what the fuck was going to happen next. But a very large, very explosive, and surprisingly not entirely unpleasant part of him was suddenly, intensely curious to find out.
---
The sheer, audacious force of Mirajane's declaration – "You're MINE!" – coupled with the lingering, electrifying sensation of her kiss, completely shattered Katsuki Bakugo's carefully constructed universe. His brain, which had just been reveling in the triumph of her confession, now felt like it had been hit by one of his own Oppenheimer Smashes. All his usual responses – anger, arrogance, explosive defiance – simply… failed to launch. He was, for perhaps the first time in his conscious memory, utterly, profoundly, and hilariously out of his depth.
The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, the terror of monsters and dark guilds, the victor of epic spars, just… malfunctioned.
His fierce scowl dissolved, replaced by an expression of wide-eyed, slack-jawed bewilderment. The crimson inferno in his eyes dimmed, leaving behind a look of stunned, almost childlike confusion. The hand that had been gripping the bar went limp. He blinked, slowly, as if trying to process a foreign language spoken at hypersonic speed.
And then, the most unexpected, most un-Bakugo-like transformation of all occurred. A flush, entirely different from his earlier anger or her embarrassed blush, began to creep up his neck, spreading across his cheeks. It wasn't the dark red of rage, but a softer, warmer hue, the unmistakable color of… shyness. Acute, overwhelming, system-crashing shyness.
He, Katsuki Bakugo, who prided himself on his unbreakable will and his absolute refusal to show weakness, was suddenly, terrifyingly, flustered. The confident smirk, the arrogant posture, the readiness to explode at the slightest provocation – all of it just… deflated, like a punctured balloon.
He couldn't meet her blazing, possessive gaze. His eyes darted around the guild hall, anywhere but at her, as if desperately seeking an escape route from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of the moment. He saw the stunned, gobsmacked faces of his guildmates, and the flush on his own face deepened.
His mind, usually so quick with a cutting remark or a devastating counter-attack, was a complete blank. He fumbled for words, for a response, for anything that would make sense of the monumental, paradigm-shifting event that had just occurred. Mirajane Strauss, the beautiful, terrifying, and apparently utterly insane barmaid, had just claimed him. Like a… like a particularly prized piece of explosive ordnance.
And the most confusing, most terrifying part of it all? A small, treacherous, and utterly bewildered part of him… didn't entirely hate the idea.
He finally managed to stammer out a response, his voice, usually a booming roar or a harsh snarl, now reduced to a barely audible, husky whisper, so quiet that Mirajane, still holding the back of his neck, her face inches from his, was probably the only one who could hear it clearly.
"I-If…" he began, his gaze fixed somewhere around her collarbone, unable to meet her eyes. He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the sudden, ringing silence that had fallen over the guild. "…If you'd be… willing…"
The words were a hesitant, almost desperate admission, a surrender so profound, so uncharacteristic, that it was almost more shocking than her kiss. It wasn't a demand, not a challenge, not even a reluctant agreement. It was… an offering. A shy, uncertain, and utterly vulnerable query, wrapped in the tattered remnants of his usual bravado. He, Katsuki Bakugo, was actually, tentatively, almost politely, inquiring if she, Mirajane Strauss, would be willing to have him, after she had just so forcefully declared him hers.
The sheer, unadulterated, mind-bending irony of it was lost on him in his current state of emotional and cognitive meltdown. He was just… broken. Beautifully, hilariously, and perhaps, just perhaps, wonderfully broken.
Mirajane, who had been bracing herself for an explosion, for a furious rejection, for anything other than this, stared at him, her own fierce, possessive blaze momentarily softening into stunned, tender disbelief. This fierce, explosive, arrogant young man, the one who roared defiance at the universe, was now whispering a shy, conditional acceptance to her claim?
A slow, dazzling smile, so bright it could have outshone any of his explosions, began to spread across her face. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated triumph, of profound affection, and of a dawning, exhilarating understanding.
"Oh, Katsuki," she breathed, her voice now a soft, trembling whisper, filled with an emotion that made his heart do another series of those strange, unfamiliar flip-flops. "Willing?" Her thumb gently caressed the side of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. "My dear, explosive, wonderfully infuriating boy…"
Her eyes, sapphire pools now brimming with a potent mixture of laughter, tenderness, and an almost frighteningly possessive joy, locked onto his, finally forcing him to meet her gaze.
"…I thought I just made that abundantly clear."
And as the Fairy Tail guild collectively picked its jaw up off the floor for what felt like the hundredth time that day, Mirajane Strauss leaned in once more, and the world, for Katsuki Bakugo, dissolved into another dizzying, terrifying, and undeniably, spectacularly, welcome kiss. The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight had just been well and truly claimed. And the aftershocks were going to be legendary.
---
The Fairy Tail guild hall, which had already been teetering on the brink of collective apoplexy, completely lost its mind. The sight of Mirajane Strauss, their serene, often intimidatingly composed barmaid (and secretly terrifying S-Class mage), not only confessing to kissing their explosive newcomer but then boldly reclaiming him with a second, even more passionate kiss and a possessive declaration, followed by Katsuki Bakugo's utterly uncharacteristic, shyly whispered acquiescence… it was too much. It was a rom-com, a soap opera, and a shonen battle manga all rolled into one glorious, unbelievable spectacle.
Cana, who had indeed started a new betting pool the moment Mirajane confessed, let out a whoop of delight and immediately began collecting (and paying out) wagers amidst a flurry of groans and cheers. "Pay up, losers! The She-Devil tames the Dynamite! I knew it! Drinks on the house… or maybe on Bakugo's rapidly accumulating tab!"
Macao and Wakaba were practically falling over each other, slapping their knees and roaring with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. "Did you SEE his face?! He looked like a startled puppy!" Macao gasped. "Our Mira! Still got it! And then some!"
Lucy, despite her earlier shock, was now scribbling in her notebook with the speed and intensity of a woman possessed, her cheeks flushed, a dreamy, inspired look in her eyes. "Oh, the angst! The passion! The unexpected vulnerability! This is… this is chapter gold!" Plue, on her lap, was jiggly excitedly, emitting a series of happy "Puun-puuns!"
Levy was fanning herself with a book, her face bright red. "I… I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so… direct! Or so… unexpectedly sweet, in a terrifying, explosive sort of way!" Jet and Droy were just staring, slack-jawed, unable to form coherent words.
Even the more stoic members were visibly affected. Erza, who had returned to the main hall after overseeing the initial care of the defeated trio, watched the scene at the bar with a rare, openly amused smile. She shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her. "Mirajane… she always did have a flair for the dramatic. And it seems Bakugo, for all his bluster, is not immune to her… particular brand of charm." There was a warmth in her voice, a genuine happiness for her old friend and rival.
And then there was Natsu.
Having been unceremoniously dumped in the infirmary after his defeat, the Fire Dragon Slayer's natural resilience (and perhaps a healthy dose of Sky Dragon Slayer healing from Wendy before she, too, had been overwhelmed by the day's events and retreated for a nap) had kicked in with remarkable speed. The lure of food, fighting, and general guild chaos was too strong to keep him down for long. He had, with his usual disregard for medical advice and locked doors, "sneaked off" (which in Natsu's case usually involved loudly announcing his intentions and then accidentally setting fire to something in his haste to escape) and made his way back to the main hall, drawn by the escalating, almost palpable energy.
He arrived just in time to witness Mirajane's second, more possessive kiss and Katsuki's subsequent, shell-shocked, shyly whispered reply.
Natsu's jaw dropped. His eyes, usually blazing with fiery enthusiasm for battle, were now wide with a completely different kind of bewildered, almost horrified, fascination. He pointed a trembling finger, his voice a strangled squeak.
"H-Happy! Did… did you see that?! Mira… Mira just ATE BAKUGO'S FACE! And… and Bakugo… he… he LIKED IT?! He didn't even EXPLODE!"
Happy, who had been perched on Natsu's head, his own eyes like saucers, could only nod dumbly, his fish momentarily forgotten. "Aye… It was… smoochy."
Natsu looked from the kissing couple (or rather, the kissing Mirajane and the utterly bewildered, passively accepting Katsuki) to the cheering, gossiping guild members, then back again. A slow, dawning, and utterly Natsu-like grin began to spread across his face. This was even weirder, and therefore even more interesting, than fighting!
"SO COOL!" Natsu roared, flames suddenly erupting around him in a burst of pure, unadulterated, and slightly confused excitement. "Mira's got a boyfriend! And he's EXPLOSIVELY SHY! This is the best day EVER!" He immediately tried to charge towards the bar, presumably to offer his congratulations in the most destructive way possible.
Luckily, Gray, who had also made a surprisingly swift (if still very grumpy and shirtless) recovery and had followed Natsu out of the infirmary, managed to tackle him before he could reach the bar, resulting in an immediate, if somewhat subdued (by their standards), brawl erupting in the middle of the already chaotic guild floor.
Gajeel, the last of the trio to emerge, looking like he'd been run over by an iron golem (which, metaphorically, he had), just leaned against the doorframe, surveyed the scene – Mirajane still thoroughly engrossed in her conquest of Katsuki, Natsu and Gray wrestling amidst a flurry of fire and ice, the rest of the guild in varying states of ecstatic meltdown – and let out a tired, metallic sigh.
"Gi hi… This damn guild," he muttered, though there was a hint of a weary grin on his face. "Never a dull goddamn moment."
The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight had been claimed. Fairy Tail was in an uproar. And Mirajane Strauss, it seemed, was having a very, very good day. The repercussions of this were going to be echoing through the guild – and Katsuki Bakugo's life – for a long, long time to come.