MASTER LIST
NO SMUT
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Characters
• Katsuki Bakugo
- Fics, One-shots, Drabbles, and Series
• Alastor, The Radio Demon
- Fics, One-shots, Drabbles, and Series
Honestly, ever since becoming a fanfic writer myself I’ve become like 500% more understanding and patient about other authors’ update schedules. An author takes 6+ months to post their next chapter? Yeah, totally get that real life can get in the way. An author abandons a fic? Disappointing, but it happens- sometimes inspiration for a story just dies. An author apologizes about taking so long to post a 10k word chapter? Dude, that’s like 18-20 pages on Word single-spaced. It takes me at least a week to write an essay for school a quarter the length of that, and that’s with a deadline.
It’s probably the most important thing writing fanfic has taught me, tbh. How to fully appreciate the hard work someone else has put into their story. How important the role of the audience is to an author. And that no matter what, you are never entitled to demand more of a story that you are getting for free.
synopsis. you had the biggest, fattest crush on bakugou katsuki in high school, which granted you weird looks and judgment from those who found out, because why, when you could fawn over prince-like todoroki or manly kirishima instead? fast forward to 10 years later, though, and now the joke’s on them, because #2 pro-hero dynamight just got dubbed the hottest bachelor of the year.
but that doesn’t matter, because you’re over him now. you’ve been over him, ever since that butchered attempt at confessing where he dismissed you as a gen ed extra before you could even get the words out.
so why, all of a sudden—and an entire decade later—do you have to work with him on a top-secret mission?
status. completed (42.4k)
tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), a lot of cussing (bkg-typical), several mentions of bullying & discrimination (quirk supremacy), reader has a quirk :0, reader is alluded to being smaller than bkg, canon-typical violence, mentions of food, mentions of physical and mental health issues, nsfw themes (is there gonna be eventual smut? fuck around and find out)
Honestly, ever since becoming a fanfic writer myself I’ve become like 500% more understanding and patient about other authors’ update schedules. An author takes 6+ months to post their next chapter? Yeah, totally get that real life can get in the way. An author abandons a fic? Disappointing, but it happens- sometimes inspiration for a story just dies. An author apologizes about taking so long to post a 10k word chapter? Dude, that’s like 18-20 pages on Word single-spaced. It takes me at least a week to write an essay for school a quarter the length of that, and that’s with a deadline.
It’s probably the most important thing writing fanfic has taught me, tbh. How to fully appreciate the hard work someone else has put into their story. How important the role of the audience is to an author. And that no matter what, you are never entitled to demand more of a story that you are getting for free.
The crimson stain spread across her chest, blooming like a monstrous flower against the clean white of her dress.
Y/n.
Her name echoed in Katsuki’s mind, a broken record skipping on the same agonizing track. He knelt beside her, trembling as he tried to stop the bleeding, but it was useless. Her eyes, usually sparkling with laughter and life, were dimming, the light fading like a dying ember.
“Ka-tsuki…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. A single tear escaped and traced a path through the blood smudging her cheek.
“Y/n, no. Be strong. Please,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. He, the city’s protector, the beacon of hope, was reduced to a sobbing mess, his world crumbling around him.
“I… I love you,” she breathed, her gaze fixed on his. Then, her eyes fluttered closed, and her hand, which he held so tightly, went limp.
A rough scream tore from Katsuki's throat, a sound of pure, pure agony. It echoed through the shattered remnants of what had been their peaceful afternoon date, a contrast to the gentle breeze and the birdsong that had filled the air moments before. He cradled Y/n’s lifeless body, his tears falling onto her blood-soaked dress, mixing with the crimson already there.
Rage, hot and blinding, began to simmer within him. It coiled in his gut, a constricting feeling in his heart and choking him with its fury. He looked up, his gaze falling on the figure standing amidst the chaos, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
Darius.
The man who had produced this tragedy. The man who had stolen Y/n from him.
Darius, the self-proclaimed 'Architect of Chaos,' had been his nemesis for years. Their battles had become legendary, a clash between light and darkness, order and anarchy. But this… this was different. This wasn’t a battle for the city, this was personal.
This was for Y/n.
Katsuki rose to his feet, his movements stiff and robotic. The spark of heroism was extinguished, replaced by a cold, burning fury. He looked at Darius, his face a mask of grief and rage.
“You…” he began, his voice low and menacing, “You took her from me.”
Darius chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “She was a weakness, Dynamight. A vulnerability you couldn’t afford. I simply… removed it.”
Katsuki’s fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. The hero within him, the one who always strived for justice, the one who believed in redemption, was silenced. The only thing that remained was a primal need for revenge, a thirst for blood that consumed him entirely.
He took a step forward, then another, his pace quickening with each stride. The air crackled with a raw, untamed power, a darkness that emanated from him.
“You want to see a villain?” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “I’ll show you one.” The words hung in the air, heavy with menace, a chilling promise of vengeance.
Darius, for the first time, seemed to falter, a flicker of unease crossing his features. He had pushed Katsuki to the edge, but he hadn't anticipated the monster that lurked beneath the surface of him.
Katsuki lunged, his speed and ferocity catching Darius off guard. He unleashed a flurry of blows and explosions, each strike fueled by his rage, each punch a testament to his grief.
Darius, though powerful, was overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of Katsuki’s attack. He stumbled back, his defenses crumbling under the attack.
"You think you can hurt me?" Darius spat, summoning his powers. Tendrils of dark energy snaked out from his hands, lashing at Katsuki, but he was impenetrable to them.
His pain, his loss, had made him an engine of destruction.
Katsuki grabbed Darius by the throat, his grip like iron. He lifted him off the ground, his eyes burning with a cold fire. Darius gasped for air, his face turning purple.
“Y/n…” Katsuki whispered, his voice hoarse, “She was everything to me. And you… you took her away.” He tightened his grip, the sound of cracking bones filling the air.
Darius struggled, his dark energy flickering and fading, unable to penetrate the wall of rage that surrounded Katsuki.
“You… you’ll pay,” He growled, his voice filled with a chilling calm. He threw Darius against a nearby tree, the impact sending tremors through the ground causing him to crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.
Katsuki didn’t stop. He was a whirlwind of fury, a force of nature unleashed. He rained down blows on Darius, each strike more brutal than the last. He didn’t care about justice, he didn’t care about the law. All he cared about was making Darius suffer, making him feel the same pain that he felt, the same emptiness, the same loss.
Darius, battered and broken, could barely defend himself. He had underestimated Katsuki's love for Y/n, underestimated the depth of his grief, and underestimated the monster he had created.
Katsuki stood over Darius, his chest heaving, his body trembling. He looked down at the man who had destroyed his life, the man who had taken everything from him. He could feel the darkness within him, the corrupting influence of his rage. He had become what he had sworn to fight against.
He had become a villain.
He raised his hand, ready to deliver the final blow, to end Darius’s life, to finally quench his thirst for revenge.
But then, he hesitated. He saw Y/n’s face in his mind’s eye, her gentle smile, her kind eyes. He remembered her words, her unwavering belief in him, her faith in the hero he was.
He lowered his hand, his fingers trembling. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t become a murderer. He wouldn’t dishonor Y/n’s memory by succumbing to the darkness.
He turned away from Darius, his body shaking with the effort to contain his rage. He walked away, leaving Darius broken and defeated on the ground. He didn’t know what the future held for him, but he knew one thing, he would never be the same.
Y/n’s death had changed him, shattered his world, and unleashed a darkness within him that he knew would forever be a part of him.
He was no longer just a hero, he was something more, something darker, something broken. The city had lost its protector, and in his place, a new kind of vigilante was born, one fueled by grief, driven by revenge, and haunted by the memory of the woman he loved. He was no longer the beacon of hope.
SUMMARY: Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates.
At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways.
You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children.
(In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)
“I haven’t.” Kirishima wrings his hands as you nod and look away, trying to hide your expression. In other circumstances, the sight of such a big man—fiery red hair, sharp teeth, muscles and all—fretting in such a way would’ve been funny. Sweet. But as it is, your worry shadows everything.
The first couple of days after Bakugou falls off the grid, you’re a little annoyed. He couldn’t have spared a minute to reply before leaving? Or at least given you an estimate about when he’d be back? Given you a heads up at all?
But a couple days quickly turn into a week, and you begin to worry. Is this normal? Can you call his agency to ask? Or would that be inappropriate, you butting your head into hero business?
You don’t know if you’re being irrational or if you’re being overbearing when you and Bakugou are just friends. Unrequited soulmates don’t count. You have no real claim to knowledge regarding his whereabouts, his movements. You’re just friends.
But friends can worry about their friends. That’s totally normal. So you figure—it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Just one call.
“Hi Aiko. I was just wondering…” You hesitate. “You know how Bakugou—Dynamight is away on a mission right now? Would you happen to know when he’ll be back?”
“I’m sorry.” Even over the phone, her regret comes clear through. “I don’t have high enough clearance to know that info. And even if I did, it’s agency policy not to share that kind of information.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry,” you tell her, forcing a cheerful tone. You gnaw at your lip, feeling a little lost. What now?
“But I’m sure Red Riot would know!” she says, just as you make up your mind to say your goodbyes and hang up. “Would you like to schedule a meeting with him?”
You immediately perk up.
“Yes, please!”
Kirishima touches your shoulder. He says, “I think Bakugou’s been instructed to go dark for this mission.”
You look up into his earnest eyes.
“None of our friends have heard from him either,” he tells you.
“Oh.” The ball of anxiety that’s been sitting on your chest like a weight lightens just a little. So it’s not just you.
But is that a bad thing? No one’s heard from him?
The weight returns.
“Is it normal for him to take missions like this?” you ask. “You guys are used to it?”
Kirishima frowns, looking conflicted. “No… These longer missions are usually reconnaissance or stealth missions, and Bakugou’s quirk doesn’t really mix well with them. But there might be other reasons for him to go dark.”
“I see,” you say, gaze falling to the ground as frustration swells in you.
You’re so clueless about the hero profession. You don’t know what’s normal, how you should be feeling. If the relative calm Kirishima’s exuding is something you should mimic or if the calm’s due to his familiarity with situations like this. And it’s your own fault. Because in the months you’ve spent learning Bakugou, you could’ve asked about all this. About what he does and what’s to be expected. But you didn’t.
“Look, please don’t worry.” Kirishima ducks his head to look you in the eye. “Bakugou’s really, really good at what we do. He wouldn’t want you to stress over him being gone.”
“Right,” you say, summoning a weak smile.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything,” Kirishima promises.
“Thanks Kirishima,” you say.
“Call me Kiri, if you’re comfortable with it!” he says, grinning. “And send me pics of Mikan and Natsu. Bakugou’s stingy about sharing them.”
Laughing, you agree.
You: I finally got Kirishima’s number! Remembered to ask him while stopping by the agency this morning 😌
You send a picture you’d taken—Kirishima grinning in the background with the smoothie you’d gotten him, and you throwing up a peace sign at the camera.
Smiling a little, you imagine Bakugou’s reaction upon seeing the picture, seeing your message. He has no right calling you squirrely when he’s so weird about you being friendly with Kirishima. You’re not sure, but if you could hazard a guess, you think it’s because he’s uncomfortable with mixing friend groups. Which you can understand—sometimes it just doesn’t work, or it’s awkward to facilitate. But still.
You admit that it’s fun getting reactions out of Bakugou, that sometimes you do things on purpose. You miss messing with him.
Your messages finish sending, finally. But just like the other texts you’ve sent over the past few days, there’s no indication that they’ve been delivered.
Your smile fades.
“Hey, what’s up?”
Your head jerks up from your phone as you meet your friend’s eyes. Feeling strangely guilty, you set it down on the table in front of you as she settles back into her seat.
Mitsuru raises an eyebrow at you. “You’ve been glued to that thing today. You expecting to hear from someone?”
“Kind of,” you say, then make a face. “Or, I guess, not really. I’m not sure.”
“The most convoluted answer,” she says, snorting. “Here, pick something from the dessert menu while I flag down that server. You can tell me what’s up with you while we eat.”
Sighing, you take the menu from her.
Mitsuru’s sharp as a tack in general, but she’s also known you since middle school. It’s not often you wish you could hide things from her, but this time might be one of them.
You haven’t told anyone about reconnecting with Bakugou. Not Mitsuru, or any of your other friends. You hadn’t even noticed you’d kept your friendship with Bakugou to yourself until recently. You’re not sure why. It’s not like you’re actively hiding it. It’s just… how it’s turned out.
Okay, maybe you’ve been hiding it a little from Mitsuru specifically. But it’s because she knows him from your time at Aldera. She’d witnessed how mean he was to you, had gotten into verbal scuffles with him, defending you, until you’d asked her to stop.
So. You know that she doesn’t have a good impression of Bakugou. Even after all these years, when she sees ads or merch of him, she rolls her eyes.
But you do want to talk to someone about it, about him, if only to get some objectivity about your worry. And Mitsuru, with her frank, realistic outlook on the world, is perfect for the job.
So you tell her about it—an abbreviated, edited version of it. About this friend you’d gotten to know over the past couple months. The “business trip” he’d gone on with little notice and no heads up about when he’d be back. That’s you’re worried because you haven’t heard from him.
Hiding details—that it’s Bakugou, that the trip is a hero mission—makes you shift in your seat, a stone in your stomach. But you’re scared of what Mitsuru would say. What she’d think if she knew. She’d only ever seen the cruel child he’d been.
Mitsuru gives you a look when you finally fall silent. She plays with her nails, painted to look like glass, haloed like cat’s eyes, then lifts a hand to wrap a strand of black hair around her finger.
“This friend of yours,” she says. “It’s Dynamight, isn’t it.”
Your eyes widen. You choke on the water you’d been sipping.
“What? Why would you—”
Mitsuru watches as you stumble over your words, mind racing as you try to figure out what to say. She sighs.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to confirm anything if it’ll get you into trouble or something. But I’ve had my suspicions since I saw those promotional pics he took with those kittens. They’re the ones you’re fostering, right?”
Fuck. You should’ve thought of that. Mitsuru was the first to meet them, all those months ago.
“And then there was that noise on social media about Dynamight at that fancy pet store you were excited to try out a couple months back. Don’t think I wouldn’t recognize the back of your little head,” Mitsuru says, eyes narrowed at you.
You stare at her for a long moment, scrambling for things to say to deny it. She’s cool, eyes steady.
You cover your face with a hand.
“You can’t tell anyone,” you say, letting your hand fall, and she scoffs.
“Who do you think I am,” she says.
“You’re the only one I’ve told about him.”
Mitsuru raises a brow. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I appreciate you confiding in me, I do, but… I remember that little shit did to you when we were in junior high. What the hell are you thinking?”
You wince. “I know how it sounds. But he really has changed, Mitsuru. He’s not that little kid anymore. That bully. People grow up.”
“We really did meet months ago,” you say. “And within the first five minutes of conversation, he apologized. I wasn’t ready for it then, but… But since then, we’ve spent time together. Gotten to know each other. And he’s only ever been kind to me.”
You find that your words catch in your throat, an unexpected wave of emotion flowing through you. Fiddling with your fingers, you say quietly, “We’re friends now.”
You raise your eyes to meet Mitsuru’s.
Her expression has changed, softened a little. She reaches over and rubs your arm up and down briskly.
“Hey,” she says. “You don’t have to justify anything or feel any type of way about being friends with him given your history. I trust your judgement. I’m just worried, is all.”
“I get it,” you say. “He really was an asshole as a kid. But he’s a better person now. Promise.”
You feel your words with a certainty you didn’t have months ago. The Bakugou you know, who cares deeply for his friends, who’s always honest, who admits his mistakes, who puts so much effort and care into his job, helping people, protecting people—he’s a good person. One of the best people in your life.
Mitsuru leans back into her chair. She inhales deeply, exhales. She says, “Just one more thing. I… I know you say he’s your soulmate, that you can see his lights—”
Your breath catches. You know she doesn’t mean anything by it. But her doubt hurts. It echoes yours, feeds into an insecurity that’s only just tempered by the reassuring flicker of orange and gold when you see Bakugou.
“—but I remember how unkind he was when he told you it’s not a mutual thing. I don’t know if you’ve already resolved that with him, but… I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know.” You tap your foot against hers under the table. “Thank you. Really. And we… haven’t talked about it yet. It hasn’t come up.”
“Why not?”
You shrug, looking away. Prickles of discomfort race up and down your arms. You should talk about it. But. What if it changes things between you?
Mitsuru studies you for a long moment, then sighs. “All right. All right. But as your friend, I reserve the right to yell at him the second he fucks up. Just letting you know.”
You snort, tension releasing. “Yes, yes.”
“And you gotta introduce us. Re-introduce us.”
“I will!”
Mitsuru reaches over and pinches you in the arm. You whine.
She grins. “Okay, now tell me how the cats got tangled up in being promotional material for Super Explosion Guy blah blah blah. I can be nosy now that you’ve said something.”
You laugh. “His hero name is one of the funniest things about him, isn’t it? So it started because of that pet shop…”
Natsu, your sweet girl, is finally adopted. The paperwork is finalized, Bakugou’s PR people and the foster organization wrap up all loose ends, and you say goodbye.
It’s quieter, once she’s gone. Lonelier. She was never a noisy cat, but she would always curl up in your lap whenever you’d read or watch something on the couch. Make biscuits on you when you’d drape a blanket over your legs. She was the cuddliest of the three.
Mikan’s lost both his playmates, and you try to make up for it with extra play time and mental stimulation via things like treat puzzles. You’re glad you still have him. You don’t know what you’ll do when he leaves you too. He’s so big now.
To distract yourself, you sign up for a cooking class. It’s just one lesson, two and a half hours. You want to feel out the chef instructor, the vibes of doing something like this, before investing in other packages where more lessons are offered over the course of several weeks.
It’s surprisingly really fun. You’d gone in worried about your knife skills, about keeping up with the instructor. But you shouldn’t have because everyone is super nice and encouraging. The instructor is attentive, patient. And what you make ends up being surprisingly delicious.
Mitsuru comes over for dinner the next night and you prepare it for her. It’s a hit.
“How’s pilates been?” you ask, and Mitsuru groans, reclining further into the couch and patting her belly.
“A nightmare,” she says. “I didn’t think it’d be so tough. You’d think two decades of playing sports and generally being active would help. It does in some ways, but not really. You know, I got the shakes yesterday? We were doing an exercise on the reformer and my leg kept shaking, like I had no control over it. It was so embarrassing, jeez. I was at the front of the room, too.”
You laugh, imagining it, then shake your head. “If you think it’s hard, there’s no hope for me.”
She turns her head to look at you, eyes brightening. “Are you interested? Forget everything I said. It’s amazing. Life-changing. So fun. Easy, even. Come join.”
Laughing, you push her away as she smacks your leg in enthusiasm.
“Have you tried pilates?” you ask Kirishima as he finishes taking a big sip of the smoothie you’d gotten him. He’s just wrapped up a workout, and you’re visiting on your lunch break.
“No,” he says, tilting his head. “My friend Mina does classes at a studio, though, if you’re interested.”
“I’m definitely not,” you say. You give him a quick rundown of the conversation you had with Mitsuru, adding, “It just got me thinking about maybe joining a gym or picking up something easy I can do consistently. When I moved to this neighborhood two years ago, I canceled my old membership because of the distance. But with how much I’m chained to my desk at work, I figure I should find a new gym.”
“If you’re down, I can get you started with a couple workouts here at our agency’s gym until you find something you like,” Kirishima tells you. “I know some gyms in this area, so if you want, I’d be happy to help you look, too!”
You smile up at him.
“That’d be great, Kiri, thank you! You sure helping me with workouts won’t interfere with your schedule?”
“We’ll work it out, don’t worry.” He grins at you, giving you a look as if to say, Did you catch that? Did you get it?
You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m going to ignore that. That’s terrible.”
“Aww.” Kirishima ducks his head.
You shake yours. “But really, thank you. For the gym stuff and just for being so nice in general.”
“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we? Always happy to help a friend.”
You smile. You open your mouth, then hesitate.
You like Kirishima, think you can become even better friends with time. Still, you’re conscious that you haven’t known him long. That the topics of your conversations have been everyday, casual ones.
But lately, certain heavier thoughts have been plaguing you. Despite keeping busy at work, indulging your interests, investing in your other relationships, you can’t stop thinking about Bakugou. It’s been two weeks now.
Before, Bakugou being a pro hero meant that every once in a while you’d see him on the news if a villain altercation was serious enough to get covered. It meant seeing him in uniform on the streets during patrol, discreetly waving at him as you passed by on your way to and from work.
Now it means struggling with not knowing where he is, when he’ll be back, if he’s safe. When you’ll see him again and if he’s okay.
How do heroes, especially ones who grow up together as classmates like those attending UA or Shiketsu, handle all these feelings? How do their—their friends, their families, and their partners manage the fear and uncertainty?
You know you’re not doing a good job of it.
Looking up into Kirishima’s friendly face, those bright eyes and comforting smile, you take a little leap.
“Can I ask you a question? A kind of serious one.”
“Anything!” Kirishima says. He gestures for you to sit on a nearby bench, taking a seat next to you after you’re settled.
“What’s up?” he asks.
You take a deep breath and decide to just go for it.
“How do you deal with it? The worry, the… all these terrible feelings when your friends are risking their lives fighting people or going off on these long missions?” You have to stop yourself there, worried that if you keep going, you won’t be able to stop; all of these feelings you’ve been grappling with will just come rushing out.
Kirishima’s gaze softens, understanding. His mouth sets into a thoughtful line as he considers your question.
“It never stops being tough,” he says slowly. “Simple patrols can turn into fights, or chases, or rescues all the time. Other heroes with more specialized quirks and jobs can be put into even more danger than us regular heroes, depending. I went to school with people who told us the risks, and we faced them. Even earlier than we should’ve.”
For a moment, the planes of his face fall into a weariness, a seriousness you’d never seen on him before. That lovely light in his eyes dims, just a little.
He meets your gaze. “And we still stayed on with the job. For lots of us, helping people, keeping people safe, it’s worth all of it. But for our family, partners, who’re civilians, it’s hard.”
“So it never gets easy? You just have to live with it?” you ask quietly, that burden settling heavy in your heart.
“I don’t know about easy. But. For me, uh. I don’t know if this’ll be helpful at all, but, um, I try to stay in the present. I used to always be thinking about what ifs or things that hadn’t happened—yet, I thought, and worked myself up. Still do sometimes. But one of my former teachers told me that that’s no way to live your life. Miss out on so much doing that.”
You can relate.
Kirishima tilts his head, thinking for a moment.
“Oh! And of course there are, like, mental health professionals and support groups I can connect you to. If you want! Lots of heroes see someone regularly, and so do their family members or partners,” he says.
“I’d like that,” you tell him.
He smiles at you, reaches out to pat your hand. “Talking about it helps. Having community helps me most, personally. Friends who have my back, family who care. So. If you need someone. I’m always here, okay? I got you.”
An open hand, so readily offered.
A little lump rises in your throat. These people you’ve met—Bakugou, Kiri, Pulsar, Shieldmaiden—really are heroes. They’re such good people.
“Thanks, Kiri,” you say with a wobbly smile.
The days continue to pass, and you try to stay balanced, focused. Some days you succeed, and others you don’t.
A new restaurant near your work opens up, specializing in your favorite cuisine, and you and a coworker head out to try it.
You’re waiting for the light to change for the crossing, chatting with your coworker, when a flicker of orange catches your eye.
You raise your head, your coworker’s voice receding into the background as you slowly scan the streets for what’d caught your attention.
There. That orange and gold is unmistakable. Your breath catches.
“Bakugou,” you say, and—his name feels like it’s ripped out of you, a compulsion. The vowels and consonants are lost to the bustle of city life, but his name remains, a question on your tongue.
You nearly start forward, stepping into the street, before remembering yourself. It’s so hard to resist the urge to run after him, cars be damned, what your coworker would think be damned. But you hold yourself still, tense. Eyes locked on the man walking further and further away from you.
It’s him, right? If he wasn’t wearing a hoodie, you’d be able to tell for sure by his hair, his build. But the hoodie obscures the lines of his body. This far away, you can no longer make out any flashes of orange and gold.
The wait for this pedestrian crossing is so fucking long. You’re going to file a complaint to—to someone, to whomever is in charge of this shit. Fuck.
Biting your lip, you watch as his figure disappears around the corner.
“What’d you say?” your coworker asks, jostling you.
You blink, feeling a little out of body, dazed. Your coworker peers into your face, concerned.
“You good?”
“I—yeah. I’m fine.” Forget about lunch. You need to check your phone.
But before you can do so, your coworker grabs your elbow, propelling you forward. “Hey, the light’s changing, c’mon.”
Maybe you imagined it. Maybe it wasn’t him.
The second you got the chance, you checked your phone. But there were no messages from Bakugou waiting for you, none from Kiri. Just a couple from Mitsuru, one from your mom, another from a coworker asking you to pick something up from the restaurant for them.
Maybe you’re losing it.
You sigh, stroking down the length of Mikan’s back, eyes watching but not perceiving the show you’d put on.
He’d text you if he were back in town, right? Kiri would give you a heads up. So it was your wishful thinking earlier, your imagination.
You miss him. It’s been almost three weeks. You’ve thought about reaching out to the groups Kiri recommended to you, but you always chicken out at the last minute, phone in hand, number undialed.
Kiri’d said that heroes’ family or partners go to these things. He hadn’t mentioned friends. Would it be weird to show up just as a hero’s friend? Would telling them he’s your soulmate help justify it?
But no, because. What would you even say? Hi, I’m a hero’s friend. Yeah, just friends. Well, no, technically he’s also my soulmate. What do I mean by technically? Well, he’s mine but I’m not his. So yeah.
Even the thought of admitting that to strangers makes you nauseous.
And what if you slip and say his name? You don’t want people to know you’re talking about Bakugou. You’re not sure you’re allowed to say he’s on a mission. You’re still not sure you want people outside your personal lives aware that you know each other, are friends.
You pick Mikan up, lifting him to eye level, and bury your face in his side. That nice cat smell envelops you for a nice moment.
He squirms out of your grip, jumping to the floor. Giving you a look, he begins washing his fur with his tongue.
You slump into the couch, defeated.
Bright and early, the next morning finds you at the agency in workout clothes.
All night, you’d tossed and turned, mind busy. You’d fallen into a fitful sleep around 2 AM, only to wake up again around 5 AM. At that point, you gave up and decided that maybe if you tired your body out, your mind would shut up and let you rest. At the very least, you’re grateful it’s a Saturday and you don’t have to come in to work.
Flashing a quick smile and wave to the front desk, you use your access card to head up to the gym. The halls are quiet, and the few people using the gym are people you don’t know.
You slip on some headphones and get to work.
Truthfully, you shouldn’t be mooching off Kiri’s—and Bakugou’s—generosity. But you’ve really enjoyed the workouts you’ve had with Kiri this past week. He designed a workout routine for you and demonstrated the exercises you’ve been doing. He’s encouraging, and he knows just how far to push you. He really has a way with people. It’s made you less motivated to seek out your own gym. You’ve been spoiled.
You’ll look into the gyms Kiri recommended later today, you resolve. After a nap. The workout’s done its job. You clean up the machine you’d been using and head out.
You’re mid-yawn, eyes squinted and watering, so you don’t catch that someone’s trying to enter the gym at the same time as you’re exiting until it’s too late.
“Oh, sorry,” you say, quickly wiping at your eyes, embarrassed. When they’re clear, you look up, then freeze.
“Bakugou!”
Bakugou grunts. Says your name in greeting. His eyes quickly scan you up and down before coming to rest on your face.
You’re warm, very aware that you’re still a little sweaty. You hope you don’t smell. You want to hug him so badly, but you’re too nervous. You’re self-conscious, shy. You don’t know what’s gotten into you.
He looks tired, eyes weary. His hair’s grown out a little, longer than you’re used to seeing on him. A bandage rests right below his scar, stark against his skin.
The little details don’t matter. You’re so happy to see him. You’re smiling, not realizing it.
When Bakugou doesn’t say anything more, you ask, “When did you get back?”
He hesitates for a second, looks at the wall next to you, then back at you.
“A couple days ago,” he says shortly.
You pause.
“A couple days ago?” you repeat. A feeling you can’t quite name begins to creep up the back of your neck. It’s not a nice feeling. “Oh. Did you, I mean, were there a lot of post-mission things you needed to do?”
“Yeah. A bunch of annoying bullshit.”
You make a sympathetic sound. There, you tell yourself silently. He had reasons for not giving you a heads up that he’s been back. The world doesn’t revolve around you.
“What’re you doing here?” he asks.
The gym’s doors open behind you as someone exits, and Bakugou puts a hand on the small of your back, pulling you to the side and out of the way.
His hand on your back, even through your clothes, is warm.
It takes you a second to reply. “Kiri said it’d be okay if I use the agency’s gyms until I find my own. I hope that’s okay.”
“S’fine,” he says.
His hand’s still on your back. He’s standing so close to you, just looking at you. At your face, darting down your body, as if committing you to memory. As if it’s something you won’t notice. You don’t mind at all. You can’t take your eyes off him either.
But—
“I—sorry, I gotta ask, it’s bothering me,” you say. “I hear that you’ve been busy, but. A quick, ‘Hey I’m back, I’m fine’ message would’ve been appreciated, y’know? If you were allowed. Was it that you weren’t allowed to tell non-heroes that you’re back?”
Bakugou’s hand falls away from you. He exhales deeply and crosses his arms over his chest.
“No. Just didn’t have time to talk to you.”
Something sharp and unpleasant rises as a slow wave in you. You remind yourself that busy is busy, and some things aren’t in his control.
But—it’s been days. If it really was him you saw the other day, out in the city, it’s been at least four days. And it looks like he was heading into the gym before you bumped into him.
Frowning, you shift your gym bag to your other hand, bowing your head. “Bakugou. You were gone a long time, and I had no idea what was happening with you. I feel like you could’ve shot me a quick message.”
“I told you I was gonna be on a mission,” he says, furrowing his brows.
“Yeah, but you didn’t say when you’d be back, or if it’d be dangerous, or anything except just that,” you say, voice rising a little at the end.
Inhaling deeply, you force yourself to breathe, speak normally. “Neither Kiri nor the agency could tell me anything. It sucked, Bakugou. I just wanna know what’s going on.”
Bakugou scowls.
“Look, I told you I’ve been busy,” he says. “I just got back, give me a fucking second. And I can’t always tell you shit just because it’s inconvenient for you not to know.”
The gym doors open once more, another person leaving, and you become hyper aware that you’re having this conversation in public. Suddenly, you don’t want to be having this conversation anymore.
“You’re right,” you say evenly. “Sorry for overstepping. I’ll let you get to your workout.”
You move to get past him, and he steps in front of you. You stop just short of touching, your hands tightening into fists. The strap of your bag digs into the meat of your hand.
“Fuck,” Bakugou says. “You’re not getting it. Stop taking shit personally. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
You look at him. Shaking your head, you say, “You know what? I’m done here. Bye.”
“We’re not done with shit,” Bakugou says.
“Well I’m done, so back off.”
“Not until—”
“Look, Bakugou,” you say, voice trembling. Shit. You don’t want him to think you’re crying, because you’re not. You’re just so mad. “I’m really fucking upset right now. And the shit you’re saying’s just making things worse. Let’s table this. Let me go.”
He stares at you for a long moment. You stare back at him defiantly.
“Fine,” he growls.
“Great,” you say.
You turn on your heel and leave.
Your mind is empty the entire train ride home.
Distantly, you recognize that your back and neck ache from the tension you’re carrying, but it’s impossible to relax. You feel a little separate from your body, like you’re watching yourself move through the actions of getting off at your stop and walking back to your apartment.
Once you’re home, you throw yourself into a hot shower, hoping to jar yourself out of the mood you’re in. But even after it, you’re still tense, still aching.
You try to take a nap. But your body only remembers conflict; the normally satisfying ache and tiredness post-workout is nowhere to be found. You’re wide awake.
The anger rears its head once more. Why doesn’t he get it? That you were worried, that you wanted him to communicate as much as he could, as soon as he could.
You understand that he can’t tell you certain things because of the nature of his work. You just want him to think of you, of how you’d feel, of how you felt.
Then it’s like a switch flipping, and you’re just. Sad. What a dumb thing to argue over. Such a small thing. Did you overreact? Did you mess things up because you’re overthinking things?
But how would he feel, if you did the same thing to him? Just—fucked off to some place without telling him where or when you’d be back? And when you did get back, not let him know until it’s been days?
Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe it’s that you care too much, too much to be right for the relationship you have with him.
Sleep finds you, eventually. You’re grateful.
Author's Note: And... I'm terrible! Awful! First I left ya'll with a cliffhanger with chapter 10, and now I show up nearly a year later with this angsty chapter... Feel free to yell at me in the replies, I deserve it. 😔
But thank you to all of you who've liked, reblogged, and commented on chapters of this fic since last update! And sent in asks wondering if I'm ever going to update again!! LOL! Knowing that people are still reading and care to know the end of Bakugou and Reader's story motivates me to keep writing. 💖
I do have about 2K of chapter 12 written... Hoping to post that soon, and not after a year has passed lmao. 😅
summary: in a land where marriage is set in stone at birth and love is but a myth, a girl tries her best to navigate the life she’s been born into. when her father assigns her own knight, somebody he trusts to look after her in these dangerous times, nobody would have expected the brave young soldier to twist her story with his, taking your life into a spin that was unforeseen by the fates.
pairing: bakugo katsuki x fem!reader
genre: forbidden love, royalty au, strangers to friends to lovers, comfort, mild angst, fluff
warnings: mdni 18+, all characters are aged up, detailed sex, heavy making out, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, a little bit of a hand job, grinding, all the works lmao, mentions of depressive thoughts, nothing too explicit
notes: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!
as always, thank you so much @jadeisthirsting for beta reading this and helping me throughout this fic!
mha masterlist
The bazaars of Afrasiab were unlike any other, and they dimmed in comparison to what the mind could imagine. All of the land in Persia held its animosity, a secret that can only be revealed by sight, but the bazaars there were something no tongue could describe and no ear to relay correctly.
They smelled of lamb and beef kabobs, cooked to perfection, began wafting around the carts of fabrics early in the morning. The mountains of spices were perfectly balanced in their own little plates, laying undisrupted until they caught the eye of curious passersby.
Many streets carried deep underground, for when the bazaar needed continuing and couldn’t be held entirely on top, and the hidden passages held wonders unknown to man.
Unfortunately, however, for somebody seeing these bustling markets for the first time, they tended to be confusing to figure out at the least, and nearly impossible to navigate most of the time.
The young woman who traveled closely with his cloak perched over her head tried to wind through the serpentine stalls, keeping his chin close to her chest as she only watched through the corners of her eyes, careful not to bring attention to herself nor the satchel in her hand. It was all so new to her, every sight she was intaking a far cry from what she was accustomed to seeing. The faint cries of the salesman trying to sell his silver tableware or the santur being played somewhere distant was an overload to somebody who was used to the strange serenity the palace offered.
Everything was a sight to behold. She never came to buy something, only to see. She liked the way this place almost had its own separate language, how it awoke at dawn and never seemed to sleep. She loved how the shopkeepers, always respectful of one another in their boundaries, tried their best to outdo one another in favor of better business.
The way someone shouted to gain the attention of somebody, the way they laced their words with enough enthusiasm to keep the shoppers interested was something she never grew tired of. In comparison to the bleak life that was awaiting her when she got back, these little bits of excitement were enough enrichment to keep her going for a little bit longer.
She took it all in, enjoying the opportunity as she doubted it’d be trusted upon her again, and smiled to herself at the mosaics that lined the curved walls, the dim light the candles offered helped her navigate through the underground bazaar. She looked through all the silverware, the plates painted with utmost care.
She looked through and let her fingers graze above the satin fabrics all dyed a different color. The smells of turmeric and saffron flooded her nose, mixing with the occasional whiff of rose, and she felt as though all these things at once were too compelling alone for a human mind.
No stories nor descriptions could have prepared her for what she was going to experience. It was magical, something surely out of a book. Despite that, however, every minute she spent trying to enjoy the sights was another minute that clicked in her mind mentally.
“Oi,” A gruff voice snapped, jolting her rudely out of her ongoing daydream, “Watch it.”
cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)
part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this)
“What.”
It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.
The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Dynamight agency.
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”
“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”
“Excuse me?”
Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.
Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.
“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.
To your disdain, however, he continues.
“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”
You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.
As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”
He scoffs. “Bullshit.”
You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”
He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”
You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”
“You’d rather I call you princess?”
At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.
Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”
The man dares to bark out a laugh.
You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.
“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.
“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”
You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.
You give in.
You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.
“Oi.”
The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.
It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.
Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.
To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.
Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”
You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”
At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.
Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.
“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”
He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.
“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”
Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.
Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”
“What?”
He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”
You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”
Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.
special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3
As Y/n trudged toward her new home, she couldn't help but feel both exhausted and elated. She had finally landed a job, and everything seemed to be falling into place according to her plan. She knew that this was a crucial step towards achieving the closure her family had been urging her to seek for so long. Although she acknowledged that the journey wasn't easy, she was confident that it was the right decision and that it was all for the greater good.
As she imagined herself being secluded in a place far from her home, a sudden sense of melancholy enveloped her. Despite this, she realized that it was a necessary step to take. Her determination to show to everyone that she was doing well was the driving force behind her decision.
As she lets out a quiet sigh, she begins to make her way toward the stairs. The steps seem to be waiting for her, taunting her with the knowledge that she must endure them despite the tiredness in her legs.
Frustration takes hold of her, and she mutters softly to herself, "Can't they just install an elevator here?" Her scowl deepens as she feels the discomfort in her legs growing.
Just then, a voice interrupts her thoughts. It's unfamiliar, and it startles her causing her to turn around abruptly, almost losing her footing on the stairs.
“Ah!-”
"Got you," a soothing, male voice chuckled as he successfully caught her in his arms. Y/n's heart raced as she realized someone was holding her, and before she could react, the man spoke again. "I'm sorry for frightening you. I didn't mean to do that."
As Y/n looked up, she found herself face-to-face with the number one hero, Deku. She couldn't believe it. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she pushed herself away from his arms. "Deku?!" Y/n exclaimed, her voice betraying her shock. "I'm so sorry!" She bowed, apologizing for her clumsiness.
"A-ah, no! I should be the one apologizing! I'm sorry!" Deku said, his voice kind and gentle. As he bent down to apologize, he accidentally hit his head on hers, causing Y/n to fall on her behind due to the impact.
Y/n couldn't help but yelp in pain. She clutched her head, feeling the throbbing pain. She didn't know which pain to focus on, now that both her head and behind were hurting. She looked up at Deku, who was distressed. "I-I'm so sorry!!!!" he said, his eyes filled with concern.
Y/n noticed that he was about to bow down again and panicked, immediately stopping him. "N-no need! It's okay! No need to apologize!" Her outburst surprised Deku, who looked at her with a mix of confusion and relief.
He couldn't hide his worried face when he saw her clutching her head in pain from the collision. "I h-hope it didn't hurt too much.." Deku sweatdropped, offering Y/n his hand.
Y/n, without hesitation, accepted his hand. She felt him slightly pull her up, helping her to stand. She looked up at him, feeling grateful for his kindness. "Don't worry. Haha. I'm fine, I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle." Y/n chuckled. "I just wasn't expecting to see the number one hero around this neighborhood."
Deku smiled, finally letting go of Y/n's hand, saying, "Oh, haha, well, I used to live here."
Y/n suddenly remembered Inko mentioning her son, realizing that he must be visiting her. "Oh, right. I live right next to your mother. I'm new here," she replied.
Deku was surprised after hearing this from Y/n, saying, "That's why your face isn't familiar. Haha. And you know my mother?"
Y/n nodded, saying, "Yes, she was talking about you while accompanying me to this bakery. Let's go. Your mother must be waiting for you." She motioned Deku to walk with her on their way.
As they walked, memories flooded Deku's mind, remembering how Inko took great care of him. He sighed and said, "She's really caring."
Y/n chuckled, saying, "She even told me how I reminded her of you. Apparently, she finds my clumsiness adorable," as they continued walking.
Upon reaching their destination, Y/n was about to bid Deku good night when he suddenly pulled her along with him as he entered his old home, yelling, "Tadaima!"
Inko beamed and almost ran toward Deku, giving him a tight hug. After letting go, she held his face close, inspecting for any injuries. "Are you okay? Have you been eating? Are you taking care of yourself? I missed you!" Inko couldn't help but cry.
Deku couldn't hold his tears back and cried, saying, "M-mom."
Y/n stood dumbfoundedly beside them, finding it sweet but a bit awkward.
After the short scene, Inko finally noticed Y/n standing awkwardly in the corner and wiped her tears away. But before Y/n could say anything, Inko screamed, making both adults panic.
"What is it?" Deku asked, worried.
"I-inko?" Y/n asked, confused.
But Inko continued screaming and slowly turned her head to Deku. "Y-y/n?! Y-your g-girlfriend??!!!"
Y/n and Deku's faces turned red as a tomato, and they both animatedly denied her question.
--
Y/n had been nervously repeating the same sentence for the past few minutes, "You didn't have to invite me over." She had arrived at the Midoriyas' place and was asked to sit down on their comfortable-looking couch. Despite her protests, they insisted on having her over for dinner. Y/n even offered to help them, but they quickly shut down the idea. The warm aroma of dinner cooking in the kitchen filled the air, making her stomach grumble. She couldn't help but feel grateful for the Midoriyas' kindness, but at the same time, she couldn't shake off the feeling of being an inconvenience.
"We insist, Y/n! By the way, I've been thinking about your interview today. How did it go?" Inko asked, her warm smile lighting up the kitchen as she deftly diced vegetables for dinner.
Deku, who had been sitting at the dining table chatting with his mother, looked up, his eyes shining with curiosity. "Interview? She had an interview?" he asked, his interest piqued. As he helped her mother with the ingredients, he listened eagerly to her response. "How did it go?"
Y/n took a moment to gather her thoughts before describing her experience at the agency. "The atmosphere was welcoming and the employees were a delight," she began. "Their friendliness was almost infectious, with smiles on every face and a genuine eagerness to help." Y/n couldn't help but giggle as she recalled their cheerful demeanor, which made her feel comfortable and at ease.
Inko peered at you with curiosity as she turned her head and inquired, "Did you get the position you were applying for?" As she noticed the slight curve of your lips, she remarked, "I see that smile."
You suddenly realized you were lost in thought and replied with a hint of embarrassment, "Yes, I got it. Haha."
Inko enthusiastically clapped her hands together and walked over to embrace you. "Congratulations, Y/n! You did it!" she exclaimed with a smile. "We should definitely celebrate this wonderful achievement of yours!"
Feeling a little overwhelmed, Y/n stuttered nervously, "A-ah! N-no! It's no big deal! I mean, I just did what I need to do."
Deku's face lit up with excitement as he stood up from his seat and fished his phone out of his pocket. "I'll order us takeouts from your favorite restaurant and maybe even a cake to celebrate properly. Is there anything specific you want, uh?"
Y/n realized she hadn't even introduced herself to Deku and yet she's getting this treatment. "Y-Y/n L/n. J-just call me Y/n.."
Izuku chuckled nervously as he introduced himself to her. "Right. Haha. I'm Izuku Midoriya, my hero's name is Deku," he said smiling.
His mother, Inko, pouted at him. "Eh? You didn't even introduce yourself to her, Izuku," she said, disappointed.
Realizing his mistake, Izuku apologized, "I'm sorry, Mom. Haha. We engaged in a conversation earlier, and I forgot to introduce myself."
Silence engulfed the room before Izuku decided to break it. "So, what about food?" he asked, sweatdropping.
--
Once the short celebration ended, Y/n, of course, thanked the Midoriyas before finally leaving. She couldn't believe they bothered to celebrate her small achievement. She finds herself lucky in a way.
They almost made her feel at home...
But Y/n doesn't want to overstay since she doesn't want to trouble Deku, spending time with his mother after his hero duties. He probably went out early on his patrol to visit his mother, and to see how she was doing since he's been away.
Y/n fumbled for her keys while holding a small, paper bag clutched in her hand, a silent testament to the Midoriyas' unexpected kindness.
Inside her apartment, the usual solitude was a heavy blanket. She placed the bag on the kitchen counter, its contents a mystery for later. A wave of loneliness threatened to engulf her, but she fought it back with a practiced detachment. Tonight, she would not be a victim to melancholy.
The bathroom became her sanctuary. The warmth of the water promised to wash away the day's emotional dirt. The steam misted the mirror, creating an ethereal barrier between her and the world outside. She let the rushing water drown out the persistent echo of her thoughts.
Emerging from the bathroom, wrapped in a soft towel, Y/n felt a renewed sense of calm. The apartment, though still empty, no longer seemed so desolate. She placed the food in the refrigerator, a simple act that grounded her in the present.
With a deep breath, she climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Sleep was a welcome escape, a temporary reprieve from the solitude that often felt like a constant companion. As darkness enveloped her, she focused on the rhythmic sound of her own breathing, a steady counterpoint to the quietude of the night.
--
Tomorrow was a new day, and with it, a fresh start. For now, she would let sleep carry her away from the loneliness, if only for a few hours.
02
It's way too late for an update. But here you go haha.
Katsuki had always admired Y/n from afar. Their friendship, built on their shared partnership through every mission, was the foundation of a bond he cherished.
But deep down, his feelings for her ran deeper than platonic mission buddy. Yet, he kept his feelings locked away, a silent admirer watching from the sidelines as Y/n navigated her relationship with Ethan.
Ethan, with his grand gestures and lavish gifts, always aimed to impress. But to Katsuki, these tokens of affection often fell flat. He’d seen the disappointment flicker in Y/n’s eyes when she unwrapped another piece of jewelry she didn't like or a designer bag that didn’t match her style. It was as if Ethan was trying to win a prize, rather than truly know the woman he claimed to love
Katsuki, on the other hand, knew Y/n intimately. He knew her love for old books, her passion for classic music, and her penchant for collecting quirky vintage items. He'd spent countless hours listening to her dreams, her fears, and her hopes, a silent confidant who cherished every shared moment.
One evening, as Y/n was opening a gift from Ethan, her face fell. It was a limited edition designer purse, something far removed from her usual taste.
Katsuki watched the disappointment cloud her eyes and a familiar ache twisted in his chest. He couldn't bear to see her like this any longer.
"Another bag?," Katsuki managed to say, his voice barely audible.
Y/n forced a smile, but the sadness in her eyes was evident. "It's... different," she said softly.
The silence that followed was heavy. Katsuki knew he had to say something. He took a deep breath.
"Y/n, I know you. I know what you like. I’ve been listening."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Katsuki continued, his voice steady, "I know you prefer cozy bookstores to designer labels. That classic record shop downtown is your happy place. And that vintage brooch you saw last week? You've been hinting about it for ages."
Y/n's eyes widened as her face got flustered. It was as if someone had finally seen her, truly seen her. For a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of her soft sniffles.
"Fuck, I'm in love with you, Y/n," Katsuki finally confessed, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've been for a long time. I know this isn't ideal, and I don't expect anything from you. I just couldn't fucking let this moment pass without telling you how I feel."
The confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words. Y/n looked at Katsuki, her eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions.
At that moment, under the soft glow of the small bedamp, Katsuki realized that perhaps, just perhaps, he had finally found the courage to turn a silent admiration into something more.
--
Just a random story that popped up in my head while listening to music. Lol.
Just some random drabbles lol (Bakugo's too OCC in here, I think?)
Every weekend, people flocked to this place to enjoy good food, great company, and of course, the incredible live performances by the resident band, "The Serenite Band."
At the lead of this talented band was their charismatic leader, Bakugo. He was not only an exceptional singer but also a gifted songwriter. Bakugo poured his heart and soul into his music, and his lyrics resonated with the audience on a profound level.
However, behind the scenes, Bakugo was going through a painful breakup. His partner, whom he had trusted and loved deeply, had betrayed him by cheating on him with someone else. The pain and anger he felt were consuming him, but instead of wallowing in self-pity, Bakugo decided to channel his emotions into their new album.
The band members, who were like a family to Bakugo, were aware of his heartbreak and fully supported him. They encouraged him to use their music as a means of catharsis and healing. They spent countless hours in their small studio, pouring their creativity into the songs that would make up their new album.
As Bakugo penned the lyrics for each track, his anger and frustration transformed into powerful melodies. His voice echoed with raw emotion, expressing the betrayal he had experienced. The band's music became a reflection of Bakugo's journey through heartache and the process of moving on.
The night of their album release arrived, and the resto bar was packed with eager fans. The Serenite band took the stage, and the energy in the room was electrifying. As Bakugo sang the song from their new album, the audience could feel the intensity of his emotions. His voice carried the weight of his heartbreak, captivating everyone in the room.
The band delivered a performance that was both cathartic and empowering. The crowd cheered, danced, and sang along, connecting with the raw vulnerability in the music.
By the end of the night, it was clear that The Serenite band had created something extraordinary. Their album resonated with people who had experienced similar heartbreaks, giving them a sense of solace and empowerment. Through their music, the band had transformed their own pain into something beautiful and relatable.
--
Y/n found herself seated alone at the bar, surrounded by the joyful sounds of her friends dancing on the vibrant dance floor.
She, as well, had been going through a painful breakup after discovering that her boyfriend had cheated on her. The wounds were fresh, and the weight of betrayal weighed heavily on her heart. Seeking solace and an escape from her pain, she turned to alcohol to drown her anger and sorrow.
As Y/n sat there, her gaze fixed on her glass, the band on the stage began to play a haunting melody. The lyrics spoke of heartbreak, betrayal, and the pain of being cheated on. Intrigued, she looked up and glanced toward the stage, her eyes meeting those of the lead singer.
Their eyes locked for a moment, and in that instant, Y/n felt a connection. It was as if the singer understood her pain, her struggle, and the turmoil that had consumed her since the breakup. But overwhelmed by emotions, she quickly averted her gaze and returned her attention to her drink.
As the band continued to play, the song resonated deeply within Y/n's wounded heart. The lyrics seemed to echo her own experiences and struggles. She felt a mix of sadness and relief, knowing that she was not alone in her pain.
With each verse, Y/n's emotions intensified. The anger, hurt, and sadness she had been trying to numb with alcohol bubbled to the surface. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she quickly wiped them away, determined to keep her composure.
Despite her inner turmoil, Y/n realized that drowning her emotions in alcohol wouldn't solve anything. She knew she needed to face her pain head-on, no matter how difficult it might be.
--
After the final song, the band members stepped off the stage, sweaty and exhilarated. They hugged each other tightly, proud of their musical journey and the bond they had formed. However, amidst the celebration, Bakugo couldn't shake off the pain of his recent breakup. His heart still ached, and he longed for solace.
Feeling the weight of his emotions, Bakugo made his way to the bar and took a seat. He ordered a strong liquor, hoping it would numb the pain, if only for a little while. As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, he noticed a woman sitting beside him, quietly sipping her drink.
Curiosity piqued, Bakugo glanced at her and noticed the sadness in her eyes. It was as if he could sense her own heartache, mirroring his own. He avoided glancing for a moment before striking up a conversation. "Breakup?" he asked.
Y/n looked up, startled by his question. She sighed and replied, "Yeah." Her voice trembled with a mixture of sadness.
Bakugo nodded, understanding the pain all too well. "Cheers to that," he said. As they continued to talk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, as if they had known each other for years. They strangely found comfort in each other's presence, offering a listening ear and understanding words.
As the night unfolded, the rest of the band members joined in the revelry, dancing and laughing with the crowd. But Bakugo and Y/n remained at the bar, finding solace and connection in their shared experiences.
In that moment, Bakugo realized that this unexpected encounter brought a random connection. The pain of his breakup still lingered, but he somehow no longer felt alone.
As the night drew to a close, the Serenite Band bid farewell to the resto bar and their fans.
Bakugo hesitated but decided to bid goodbye to Y/n.
Y/n, however, feeling the connection, wanted to stay in touch but it felt like its too soon
As the school week comes to an end, he eagerly looks forward to his weekend visit with his mother. Without fail, every Saturday or Sunday, he sets aside time to make the journey to his home. The time spent with her is precious to him, and he cherishes the opportunity to catch up on each other's lives, share stories, and simply enjoy each other's company especially now that he is looking forward to meeting his baby brother.
As Kazui walked into the living room, you couldn't help but smile. "You're early, Kazui-chan," you said, giggling as you tried to stand up from the comfortable sofa where you sat. "Okairi, sweety," you added with a smile, admiring his delicate features that contrasted his father's strong ones.
Kazui seemed worried as he threw his bag aside and rushed to your side. "Dad will scold you again," he warned you, concern etched on his face. "Please don't move that much, Mom."
"Don't worry that much, dear. You are all overreacting," you playfully pushed him but gave him a hug which he returned happily. You could feel the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his hair, as well as the gentle beating of his heart.
"We just don't want you to move that much," Kazui said, as he looked up at you. You couldn't help but notice how much he resembled his father and felt a pang of bliss.
"Oh, shush. I'm taking care of myself. Don't worry, okay?" you giggled, finally releasing Kazui from the embrace. You could see that he still looked worried, but you didn't want to trouble him further.
"Fine, fine," Kazui chuckled. "Have you eaten? Do you want me to prepare you anything?" His voice was soft and soothing, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for his care.
"I'm fine, dear. How was school?" you asked, taking his bag from where he threw it. You slightly bend down to grab it, feeling its weight already, and wonder how he managed to carry it around all day.
Kazui saw this and just took his bag before you could take it, making you pout. "It's pretty annoying," he scowled. You could see that he was tired and wanted to rest.
"Why is that?" you asked, curious about what was bothering him.
"A bunch of extras are clinging to me. I hate it," he replied, his eyes rolling at the thought.
Hearing this, you laughed out loud. "You have no idea how... how," you couldn't even continue your sentence, as you were still laughing.
Kazui looked at you weirdly.
Almost right on time, Katsuki walked in holding a bunch of groceries. "I'm back." He called out. As he turned to look at you, an eyebrow raised, seeing his son. "You're early, brat."
"And you're here," Kazui said raising his eyebrow, eyeing his Dad from top to bottom. "Are you supposed on patrol today?"
"Unlike you, I get to take a leave from work, brat," Katsuki smirked still holding the groceries.
"Now, now, you two." You stepped between. You that these two would start a fight, and also knew that your husband would spar with Kazui. "Katsuki, just put those in the kitchen, Kazui, go freshen up." You said, arms crossed.
"You're lucky your mom's here, brat." Katsuki grinned.
"I will beat you this time if Mom is not here." Kazui scowled as he headed to his bathroom.
" I swear to god, these two." You shook your head while watching.
---
Katsuki moved around the kitchen with precision, expertly maneuvering the pots and pans. The aroma of the delicious meal filled the air, making Y/n's mouth water in anticipation. Her heart swelled with gratitude for Katsuki, who always took care of her, especially now that she was pregnant with their second child.
As Y/n gazed in awe at Katsuki's impressive culinary skills, she noticed Kazui finally making his way down the stairs. His feet made a soft pitter-patter sound on the wooden steps, the noise echoing through the entire house.
When Kazui reached the bottom of the stairs, he couldn't contain his excitement and immediately sat down next to Y/n, eager to converse with his mother about how his training went at school.
At the sound of his son's footsteps, Katsuki turned around and caught sight of Kazui, a small smirk spreading across his face.
As he observed the scene unfolding before him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of joy welling up inside him. The bond between Y/n and Kazui was a beautiful sight to behold, and it filled his heart with an indescribable warmth. Watching Kazui interact with his mother, chatting with her calmly and genuinely, and tenderly placing a hand on her belly to feel the presence of his soon-to-be little sibling, stirred deep emotions within him.
As they all gathered around the dinner table, the room was filled with the sound of laughter and animated chatter. Y/n's laughter was infectious, and Katsuki and Kazui engaged in a lively conversation about school. Y/n couldn't help but smile as she watched her husband and son, bantering, and particularly relishing Katsuki's teasing, which never failed to bring a smile to her face.
At that moment, as they shared a meal, Y/n couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. She was grateful for the love of her husband and son, and the little one growing inside her. As she looked around the table, her heart filled with a sense of contentment and a deep appreciation for the beautiful life they had created together.
She never imagined that her life would turn out this way. The journey seemed full of confusion and pain in the past, but in the end, everything worked out wonderfully.
A great husband and a great son.
He may be a little older than her, but age doesn't matter in love, right?
-
1k words only. Its been a while, I'm sorry. But here is the finale. This is a bit rushed but I know you guys needed closure for this story lol. I do hope some of ya'all still liked this.
And for my other fanfics? It might take a while for me to update since I got a job now, its tiring but I really want to get back at writing. So, yeah.
romaincrisis
tangentwithtanner
kaledo-art
vaporwave
areudirty
discoholicmusic
ellievsbear
