#╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 09 Chapter 09 | sparks and schemes⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The pre-dawn light filtered through your curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gray and blue. You stirred, a slow smile playing on your lips as you remembered the night's events months ago.

The thought of attending U.A., a mere suggestion transformed into a reality, held a strange allure. It wasn't the prospect of heroism that excited you, but the promise of something new, a crack in the monotony of your existence.

Reaching for your phone, you saw a message from Bakugo.

𝐏𝐎𝐌-𝐏𝐎𝐌 𝐏𝐔𝐏 Be at the entrance by 7:30 sharp Don't be late. Or else.

The last sentence was punctuated with a single, explosive exclamation mark, a classic Bakugo signature. You chuckled softly, a low rumble in your chest. "Good puppy," you murmured to yourself, the nickname taking on a new meaning in your mind.

The rest of the morning unfolded in a leisurely manner. Unlike Bakugo, who likely woke up at the crack of dawn and launched himself into some pre-exam training ritual, you opted for a more relaxed approach.

You lounged around in your room, absentmindedly squeezing and stretching one of your mother's many stress balls. Each satisfying squish was a small rebellion against the looming entrance exam, a reminder that the facade of normalcy you maintained still held some power.

As you contemplated the upcoming challenges, a detached amusement settled over you. You envisioned the predictable strategies of the other hopeful heroes, and found yourself lacking any real sense of anticipation. It all seemed so… ordinary.

Just then, the shrill blare of your alarm clock pierced the quiet. With a sigh, you acknowledged that even an eternity could feel dull after a while. The entrance exam awaited, and with it, a chance to stir things up a bit.

A glint of something akin to excitement flickered in your yellow eyes.

☆

☆

You arrived at the bustling entrance of U.A. High, the air thick with nervous energy. Students milled about, a cacophony of excited chatter and worried mumbles filling the air.

Many wore the familiar uniforms of middle schools across the city, their faces a mix of determined anticipation and nervous trepidation.

There were fewer students in your own school uniform, a fact you noted with a detached curiosity.

Dodging a group of overenthusiastic students launching into a mock battle with invisible opponents, you were about to turn a corner and find a quiet spot to observe the chaos when you were suddenly slammed into by a blur of pink.

A yelp escaped the source of the collision, a girl who shot back upright with impressive speed. She bowed deeply, her apologies tumbling out in a rapid-fire stream of words. "Oh my Gods, I am so incredibly sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going and—"

She cut herself off as she finally got a good look at you. Her large, black sclerae widened, the yellow irises in the center seeming to vibrate. A deep blush bloomed across her cheeks, the light pink of her skin turning a shade closer to crimson.

You tilted your head, a bemused smile playing on your lips. For a moment, you thought you might have broken her, or perhaps she'd hit her head during the collision.

Reaching out cautiously, you brushed a finger against the side of her face, expecting to encounter some sort of injury. Your finger met smooth skin, cool and flawless.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" you asked, your voice laced with a gentle concern that came naturally to you, a habit you'd picked up from your overly nurturing mother. Internally, you cursed your ingrained politeness, wondering if a more callous approach might have been more appropriate.

The girl seemed to short-circuit for a moment, her already wide eyes bulging even further. She stammered, her words tripping over each other in a frantic jumble. Finally, she managed to blurt out a single, incoherent sentence.

"Y-you're so hot, oh my Gods, ignore me!" With that, she spun on her heel and bolted away, her pink curls bouncing with each hurried step.

You blinked, left standing there with a bewildered expression slowly morphing into amusement. Here you were, about to infiltrate the most prestigious hero academy in the country, and your first encounter was with a lovestruck ball of pink. 

It was a bizarre start to the day, a stark contrast to the steely resolve you'd steeled yourself with. But a flicker of amusement danced in your yellow eyes. U.A. was certainly proving to be... interesting.

"Well, wasn't that an exit," a voice drawled, snapping you out of your thoughts. Turning your head, you came face to face with a boy who looked every bit the part of a bored aristocrat.

He was of average height, his blond hair styled in a way that seemed designed to perpetually obscure one eye. His periwinkle blue irises, framed by dark lashes, were half-closed in a look of perpetual disdain. A sardonic smirk played on his lips, completing the picture of someone utterly unimpressed by the bustling activity around him.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this unexpected encounter.

There was something about him, a subtle aura of entitlement mixed with a hint of hidden potential, that piqued your curiosity.

While the other students exuded nervous energy or boisterous enthusiasm, this blond boy stood out with his air of detached amusement.

A faint whisper, "Denji," echoed in your head, a fleeting association you couldn't help but cling onto.

Deciding to give him a bit of your time, you tilted your head slightly, your yellow eyes meeting his half-closed gaze. "I'll say," you replied, your voice laced with a playful challenge. Turning your full attention towards him, you gestured towards the fleeing pinkette. "Am I that hideous that I make people run away screaming?"

The boy regarded you for a moment, a low hum escaping his lips. He seemed to ponder your question for a beat before offering a nonchalant, "Maybe, let me see." With that, he took a casual step forward, invading your personal space to get a better look at you.

You were decked out in your Aldera Junior High uniform: a classic black blazer with white and red trim hugged your frame, paired with a crisp white collared shirt and a vibrant red tie. A pleated skirt stopped just above your knees, showcasing your toned legs clad in white socks that disappeared into practical black loafers.

Your stance radiated a cool confidence, a blend of defiance and preparedness that spoke volumes about your personality.

As the sunlight fell upon you, you seemed to take on an almost ethereal glow. Your fluffy, red hair, styled in loose twists, framed your face like a halo. But it was your eyes that truly captivated the blond boy. The bright yellow irises held him in a gaze that was both intense and strangely alluring.

His reaction mirrored that of the pink girl—a blush bloomed across his cheeks, spreading like wildfire across his pale skin. He seemed momentarily speechless, his usual smirk replaced by a look of stunned admiration.

Finding his reaction humorous, a genuine smile played on your lips. You broke the silence with a playful tilt of your head, stepping closer until you were mere inches from him.

This close, he could see the faint dusting of freckles sprinkled across your nose, a charming imperfection you'd inherited from your mother.

"Well, am I ugly?" you purred, raising an eyebrow in a challenge.

The boy stammered, struggling to form a coherent sentence. "Y-you..." he sputtered, completely flustered by your sudden proximity and the unexpected beauty he found himself face-to-face with. This wasn't how he'd expected his day to begin.

A slow smile spread across your face, the amusement clear in your yellow eyes. This unexpected encounter had been... enlightening.

With a playful wink and a final, teasing smile, you turned away, leaving the lovestruck blond speechless in your wake.

No need to linger any longer; the real game was elsewhere.

Fishing your phone from your pocket, you scanned Bakugo's latest message, a crudely drawn map leading to some secluded corner of the school. A satisfied hum escaped your lips. Perfect.

Just then, a gruff voice boomed from a few feet away, shattering the bubble of amusement you'd created. "Don't stand in front of me. I'll kill you."

You recognized the voice instantly. Turning your head slightly, you witnessed the explosive arrival of Katsuki Bakugo. He stormed past a familiar green-haired boy, leaving a trail of nervous mumbles in his wake.

"Erk... M-Morning! L-Let's both do our best!" Midoriya stammered, scrambling out of Bakugo's way. His voice, filled with a mix of fear and nervous determination, rang out clearly.

Several students murmured amongst themselves, their voices filled with a mixture of awe and apprehension. "Hey, isn't that Bakugo? The one with the Sludge Villain?" one whispered. "Oh, he's the real thing!" another chimed in, his voice tinged with excitement.

You watched the scene unfold with a detached amusement. Seeing Bakugo effortlessly command attention, even amidst the chaos of the entrance exam, reminded you of the volatile energy he brought to everything he did.

A small smile played on your lips. Perhaps blending into the background wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

There was no need for additional attention on your first day at U.A.

Letting Bakugo be the center of the storm might be the most strategic move. You slipped away, disappearing into the crowd behind like a phantom.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket—a text from Bakugo undoubtedly. You ignored it, already finding a secluded corner that offered a clear view of the remaining students trickling in.

One face in particular caught your eye. Sitting a few rows ahead was Yumi, her presence was unmistakable. Her long, flowing hair, a vibrant shade of soft lime green—a clear inheritance from her father, Hiro, cascading down her back.

Complementing her striking hair, her soft lavender eyes, a gift from her mother, Shihsuki, mirrored the enchanting hues of twilight. They held a practiced charm, a reflection of her mother's Quirk.

You knew her Quirk, 'Absolute,' allowed her to get whatever she wanted—a power fueled by pure confidence. It was a fascinating Quirk, a twisted version of her mother's ability to draw people in and her father's knack for creation, all rolled into one.

However, the Quirk had a drawback. Yumi ran on confidence, and any situation that threatened her self-assuredness could backfire spectacularly, amplifying negativity around her. You mentally filed that information away—an interesting detail to keep in mind.

Yumi, oblivious to your scrutiny, was busy chatting with a group of girls. Her beauty mark, a tiny dot below her left eye, seemed to glitter as she laughed, her Quirk weaving its subtle magic.

You watched with a detached curiosity, wondering if her act would hold up under pressure. The entrance exam was notorious for weeding out the weak-willed, and Yumi's confidence, however potent, could crumble under the right circumstances.

You'd never had any personal issues with her, but a nagging suspicion gnawed at you that she was the one that despised your presence.

Ever since Yumi discovered the connection between you and Bakugo, a strange coldness seemed to settle in her demeanor whenever you were around.

A flashback flickered through your mind, transporting you back to a free period weeks ago.

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

You were nestled comfortably in your usual seat by the window, engrossed in a book about the controversial theories and experiments of Doctor Pavolos.

A shadow fell over your page, momentarily blocking the light. Looking up, you came face-to-face with Yumi, her brow furrowed in a deep frown. Her arms were crossed defensively, and two of her friends flanked her on either side, their faces mirroring Yumi's disapproval.

"What brings you, Yumi?" you inquired, raising an eyebrow in question. Your parents had remained close friends with Hiro and Shisuki despite the unfortunate event that took palce a couple of years ago, and it had been assumed you and Yumi would naturally become best friends.

However, that bond never truly formed, leaving a gap that Yumi's current frosty demeanor only served to highlight.

Yumi rolled her eyes, her disdain thinly veiled. "My mom," she drawled, her voice dripping with forced sweetness, "thought maybe you could, like, tutor me or something." A snicker escaped her lips, quickly echoed by her giggling minions. They leaned in conspiratorially, their hushed whispers aimed at you. You could practically hear the words "ugly" and "stupid" laced with malice.

Before Yumi's charade could escalate further, a familiar voice cut through the air. Ignoring you completely, Bakugo stomped over to your desk. With a characteristic grunt, he tossed a bag of your favorite potato chips and a carton of strawberry milk tea onto your desk. "You need to stop leaving home without lunch, dumbass," he barked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and retreated back to his seat across the room, his group of followers trailing after him like a pack of wolves. Yumi, momentarily frozen, finally found her voice. "You... you know Bakugo-kun?" she stammered, her voice laced with disbelief and a hint of something... bitter?

You shrugged, nonplussed by her reaction. "Know of him," you replied simply, your gaze returning to your book.

The encounter ended there, but it marked a shift in Yumi's behavior towards you. Her once indifferent attitude morphed into something akin to hostility. Her quips and taunts became more frequent, especially when Bakugo wasn't around.

It was clear she harbored a not-so-secret crush on the explosive blond, and seeing him acknowledge you, even in his own gruff way, had ignited a spark of envy within her.

The memory faded, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Yumi's behavior was childish, but it served as a reminder of how inferior human emotions were, especially when jealousy reared its ugly head.

Of course, you could have easily neutralized Yumi's hostility with your powers, but causing a scene wouldn't exactly help you blend in. In fact, it would achieve the opposite.

You thrived in the shadows, manipulating situations from a distance. There was the unfortunate incident with the new literature teacher, who lasted a mere week after harshly critiquing your well-written paper. (In reality, the man's envy over your intelligence and his subsequent humiliation after you corrected him in class fueled a strange "accident" that led to his swift departure.)

A mischievous glint sparked in your yellow eyes. Using your control ability, you latched onto the hearing of a small rat scurrying near a hulking student in the back of the room. The boy's head resembled a rough-hewn rock, and various critters nestled comfortably on his broad shoulders. The rat, drawn by the scent of crumbs, scampered towards Yumi's group, providing you with the perfect opportunity to eavesdrop.

Yumi's voice, laced with a sickening amount of sweetness, filled your borrowed ears. "Finally, Bakugo will be mine," she gushes, unaware of the listening ears. "No one, especially not her," she sneers, referring to you, "can stand in my way."

Her minions echo her sentiments, their voices a chorus of agreement and disdain. "Yeah, she's got no chance," one chimes in, emboldened by Yumi's confidence. 

Yumi, however, snapped at her, her voice laced with a sharp edge. "He was never interested in her! They were just childhood friends or something, nothing more!" she hissed, her carefully constructed facade momentarily crumbling.

The implication that your bond with Bakugo was insignificant, a mere childhood connection easily forgotten, sent a spark of fury coursing through you.

How dare she speak of your Bakugo... your pet, as if he were some prize to be claimed?

A predatory smirk filled your face. The entrance exam was about to begin, but it seemed you'd have a little pre-game entertainment first. Dealing with Yumi's inflated sense of self-importance was a task you could relish in.

Just as Present Mic boomed, "For all you examinee listeners tuning in, welcome to my show today! Everybody say "hey"!" you focused your control on the rat near Yumi. With a silent command, you sent it scurrying up her leg.

Surprised by the sudden movement, Yumi yelped and instinctively looked in your direction. Seizing the opportunity, you reached out with your Quirk, subtly manipulating her nervous energy.

The effect was instantaneous. Yumi's eyes widened as she launched into a booming reply to Present Mic's welcome, her voice echoing through the previously silent auditorium. "Heeeyyyy!"

Everyone's attention snapped towards the lime-haired girl, their gazes filled with a mixture of shock and amusement.

Present Mic, oblivious to your manipulation, pumped his fist in the air, mistaking Yumi's outburst for enthusiasm. "That's what I'm talking about, listeners; bring the spirit!" he cheered, further escalating the bizarre situation.

From your vantage point, you watched with detached satisfaction as Yumi's Quirk instantly backfired. Her usually vibrant green hair dimmed, mirroring her plummeting confidence. Her minions, once fueled by her Quirk to hype and covet, turned on her, their whispers laced with snide remarks.

Yumi stammered, desperately trying to regain control, but her voice came out in weak, pathetic snaps. "I—I just got a little carried away, that's all!" But her retorts fell flat, drowned out by her own nervousness and the crowd's growing murmurs.

Present Mic, ever the showman, continued his presentation. "Then I'll quickly present to you the rundown on the practical exam! Are you ready?! Yeah!" Once again, you exerted your influence, amplifying Yumi's anxieties. This time, she couldn't hold back.

With a startled yelp, Yumi jumped to her feet, her voice cracking as she echoed Present Mic's question at an ear-splitting volume. "Oh, I'm ready!" Her shout echoed, far too loud and far too earnest, drawing stares and snickers.

Bakugo, who had been observing the scene with a bored expression, let out a disgusted scoff. "Jeez, what a clowny extra," loud enough for those nearby to hear. His words, laden with contempt, seemed to echo in the suddenly quiet room, sealing Yumi's fate as the object of ridicule.

The final blow.

Tears welled up in Yumi's eyes as the auditorium erupted in stifled laughter. Shame burned on her cheeks, turning her face a vibrant shade of crimson. Without a backward glance, she bolted from the hall, tears streaming down her face.

You let out a satisfied hum, your prank complete.

Turning your attention back to Present Mic, you settled in to listen to the rest of the exam instructions, a sly smile playing on your lips.

Who knew presentations could be so entertaining?

***guess who the two unamed people were, 👀. and if you're wondering are they in the upcoming growing harem??? yeath....anywho, i have about 8 more prewriteen chapters so after ch.17, updates won't be as quick and sparodic as this, but no worries! Summer break begins May 4 for me 🥳🥳 until next updates, lovelies~

#Faster than last week #winxanity-ii Badge image. #⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 08 #Chapter 08 | conditioning the flame⌟ #╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝ #❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘ #The pre-dawn sky bled a pale orange over the ragged silhouettes of trees in the abandoned park. A cool mist clung to the ground #swirling around your feet as you finished a series of stretches. #Opposite you stood Bakugo #his explosive blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His ragged breaths echoed in the stillness #punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of his heart. #The previous hour had been relentless. You'd pushed him through a gauntlet of sprints through the woods #dodging fallen logs and leaping over rocky outcrops. #Now #you were sparring #your movements a blur as you danced around his explosive attacks. #A well-placed side-step brought you behind him #and you delivered a sharp kick to his back #sending him staggering forward. He stumbled #catching himself on a groan-worthy grunt. You stood tall #arms crossed #a critical look on your face. #you conceded #your voice devoid of praise. “But it's not enough.” You crouched low #reaching up to brush a few damp strands of hair from his forehead. #‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes

[andys-muses]

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🇸‌🇭‌🇺‌🇹‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇫‌🇺‌🇨‌🇰‌ 🇺‌🇵‌ 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌🇾‌ : [🇴‌🇴‌🇨‌]

🇼‌🇪‌’🇷‌🇪‌ 🇸‌🇺‌🇵‌🇵‌🇴‌🇸‌🇪‌🇩‌ 🇹‌🇴‌ 🇧‌🇪‌ 🇫‌🇺‌🇳‌🇳‌🇾‌ : [🇲‌🇪‌🇲‌🇪‌🇸‌]

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🇵‌🇷‌🇴‌🇲‌🇴‌ 🇹‌🇮‌🇪‌🇲‌ : [🇵‌🇷‌🇴‌🇲‌🇴‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌]

🇸‌🇴‌. 🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌ 🇬‌🇴‌🇹‌ 🇩‌🇪‌🇹‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌ : [🇹‌🇪‌🇸‌🇹‌ 🇲‌🇺‌🇸‌🇪‌]

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🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇦‌🇵‌🇪‌🇺‌🇹‌🇮‌🇨‌ 🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇪‌🇦‌🇲‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌ : [🇻‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌]

🇲‌🇷‌. 🇸‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇰‌? : [🇵‌🇸‌🇨‌]

Muses & Verses:

🇦‌🇱‌🇮‌🇨‌🇪‌ 🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇼‌🇴‌🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇸‌🇨‌🇭‌🇴‌🇴‌🇱‌ 🇧‌🇱‌🇺‌🇪‌🇸‌] - Alice's High School Years

🇦‌🇱‌🇮‌🇨‌🇪‌ 🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇼‌🇴‌🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇬‌🇷‌🇴‌🇼‌🇳‌ 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌] - Alice Graduated

🇱‌🇦‌🇺‌🇷‌🇮‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ / 🇬‌🇷‌🇪‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇬‌🇴‌🇧‌🇱‌🇮‌🇳‌ : [🇴‌🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇭‌🇦‌🇱‌🇫‌] - Evil Green Goblin

🇱‌🇦‌🇺‌🇷‌🇮‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ / 🇬‌🇷‌🇪‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇬‌🇴‌🇧‌🇱‌🇮‌🇳‌ : [🇷‌🇪‌🇩‌🇪‌🇪‌🇲‌🇪‌🇩‌] - Not Evil Green Goblin

🇲‌🇯‌ (🇲‌🇨‌🇺‌) : [🇭‌🇴‌🇲‌🇪‌🇨‌🇴‌🇲‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌] - No Spider-Man

🇲‌🇯‌ (🇲‌🇨‌🇺‌) : [🇫‌🇦‌🇷‌ 🇫‌🇷‌🇴‌🇲‌ 🇭‌🇴‌🇲‌🇪‌] - Dating Spider-Man

🇲‌🇯‌ (🇲‌🇨‌🇺‌) : [🇳‌🇴‌ 🇼‌🇦‌🇾‌ 🇭‌🇴‌🇲‌🇪‌] - No Spider-Man

🇭‌🇦‌🇷‌🇷‌🇾‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ : [🇲‌🇾‌ 🇫‌🇷‌🇮‌🇪‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇦‌🇱‌🇮‌🇨‌🇪‌] - Forced To Deal With Alice's bullshit in her universe

🇭‌🇦‌🇷‌🇷‌🇾‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ (🇲‌🇨‌🇺‌) : [🇲‌🇾‌ 🇫‌🇷‌🇮‌🇪‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇵‌🇪‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌] - Forced To Deal With Peter's bullshit in the MCU

🇭‌🇦‌🇷‌🇷‌🇾‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ : [🇧‌🇪‌🇨‌🇴‌🇲‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇬‌🇴‌🇧‌🇱‌🇮‌🇳‌] - Harry knows that he's inherited the Osborn curse

🇳‌🇴‌🇷‌🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ 🇼‌🇦‌🇾‌] - Norman's 1980s Adventures

🇳‌🇴‌🇷‌🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌] - Norman Discovering The Multiverse And All The Other Normans Are Dicks

🇲‌🇯‌ 🇼‌🇦‌🇹‌🇸‌🇴‌🇳‌ (����‌🇦‌🇸‌🇲‌) : [🇦‌ 🇳‌🇴‌🇷‌🇲‌🇦‌🇱‌ 🇷‌🇪‌🇵‌🇴‌🇷‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌] - No Spider-Man

🇲‌🇯‌ 🇼‌🇦‌🇹‌🇸‌🇴‌🇳‌ (🇹‌🇦‌🇸‌🇲‌) : [🇬‌🇴‌ 🇬‌🇪‌🇹‌ '🇪‌🇲‌ 🇹‌🇮‌🇬‌🇪‌🇷‌] - Dating/Befriending Spider-Man

🇦‌🇲‌🇪‌🇷‌🇮‌🇨‌🇦‌ 🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌🇿‌ : [🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇬‌ 🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌🇳‌🇬‌🇪‌🇷‌] - Closer To Comics Version

🇦‌🇲‌🇪‌🇷‌🇮‌🇨‌🇦‌ 🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌🇿‌ : [🇸‌🇴‌🇷‌🇨‌🇪‌🇷‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌ 🇹‌🇷‌🇦‌🇮‌🇳‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌] - Closer To Movie Version

🇭‌🇦‌🇷‌🇹‌🇱‌🇪‌🇾‌ 🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇭‌🇦‌🇼‌🇦‌🇾‌ / 🇵‌🇮‌🇪‌🇩‌ 🇵‌🇮‌🇵‌🇪‌🇷‌ : [🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇷‌🇴‌🇬‌🇺‌🇪‌] - Pied Piper as a villain

🇭‌🇦‌🇷‌🇹‌🇱‌🇪‌🇾‌ 🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇭‌🇦‌🇼‌🇦‌🇾‌ / 🇵‌🇮‌🇪‌🇩‌ 🇵‌🇮‌🇵‌🇪‌🇷‌ : [🇦‌🇳‌🇹‌🇮‌-🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇴‌] - Pied Piper as a morally questionable hero, but at the end of the day he's still a criminal

🇭‌🇦‌🇷‌🇹‌🇱‌🇪‌🇾‌ 🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇭‌🇦‌🇼‌🇦‌🇾‌ / 🇵‌🇮‌🇪‌🇩‌ 🇵‌🇮‌🇵‌🇪‌🇷‌ : [🇹‌🇷‌🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌🇱‌🇪‌🇷‌] - Pied Piper stuck in the multiverse (SOS)

Muses with no Verses/One Verse (Can't be bothered)

🇧‌🇦‌🇱‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇧‌🇴‌🇱‌🇩‌🇭‌🇪‌🇦‌🇷‌🇹‌ : [🇳‌🇮‌🇲‌🇴‌🇳‌🇦‌]

🇲‌🇺‌🇷‌🇮‌🇪‌🇱‌ : [🇬‌🇴‌🇴‌🇩‌ 🇴‌🇲‌🇪‌🇳‌🇸‌]

🇬‌🇼‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇸‌🇹‌🇦‌🇨‌🇾‌ / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇼‌🇴‌🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌🇻‌🇪‌🇷‌🇸‌🇪‌]

Tags for Mutuals (I tried fitting memes in but Tumblr's a dick)

🇵‌🇪‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ (3) 🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇭‌🇦‌🇷‌🇷‌🇾‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ (🇹‌🇦‌🇸‌🇲‌) : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇭‌🇦‌🇷‌🇷‌🇾‌ 🇴‌🇸‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌🇳‌ / 🇬‌🇷‌🇪‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇬‌🇴‌🇧‌🇱‌🇮‌🇳‌ : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇵‌🇪‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ (1) 🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇵‌🇪‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇧‌ 🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇯‌🇴‌🇳‌🇦‌🇹‌🇭‌🇦‌🇳‌ 🇵‌🇮‌🇰‌🇪‌🇸‌ (🇴‌🇨‌) : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇴‌🇹‌🇹‌🇴‌ 🇴‌🇨‌🇹‌🇦‌🇻‌🇮‌🇺‌🇸‌ : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇳‌🇮‌🇲‌🇴‌🇳‌🇦‌ : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇦‌🇿‌🇮‌🇷‌🇦‌🇵‌🇭‌🇦‌🇱‌🇪‌ : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇨‌🇷‌🇴‌🇼‌🇱‌🇪‌🇾‌ : [🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇷‌🇮‌🇺‌🇲‌🇸‌]

🇵‌🇪‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ (🇲‌🇨‌🇺‌) / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇼‌🇭‌🇴‌🇲‌🇺‌🇸‌🇪‌🇸‌]

🇵‌🇪‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ / 🇫‌🇱‌🇾‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌ 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌ : [🇼‌🇭‌🇴‌🇲‌🇺‌🇸‌🇪‌🇸‌]

🇸‌🇰‌🇾‌🇪‌ 🇧‌🇦‌🇷‌🇧‌🇪‌🇷‌ (🇴‌🇨‌) : [🇼‌🇭‌🇴‌🇲‌🇺‌🇸‌🇪‌🇸‌]

🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇵‌🇾‌ 🇭‌🇴‌🇬‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇭‌🇪‌🇦‌🇻‌🇾‌🇼‌🇪‌🇮‌🇬‌🇭‌🇹‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇵‌🇾‌]

🇴‌🇹‌🇹‌🇴‌ 🇴‌🇨‌🇹‌🇦‌🇻‌🇮‌🇺‌🇸‌ / 🇩‌🇴‌🇨‌ 🇴‌🇨‌🇰‌ : [🇸‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇲‌🇺‌🇱‌🇹‌🇮‌🇻‌🇪‌🇷‌🇸‌🇪‌]

🇵‌🇪‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ / 🇸‌🇵‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌-🇲‌🇦‌🇳‌ : [🇸‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇲‌🇺‌🇱‌🇹‌🇮‌🇻‌🇪‌🇷‌🇸‌🇪‌]

🇦‌🇲‌🇧‌🇷‌🇴‌🇸‌🇮‌🇺‌🇸‌ 🇬‌🇴‌🇱‌🇩‌🇪‌🇳‌🇱‌🇴‌🇮‌🇳‌ : [🇨‌🇷‌🇵‌🇪‌🇩‌🇮‌🇪‌🇲‌]

(Will be extended once I get more pals and interact with more muses)

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 01 Chapter 01 | distorted reality⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

BOOM!

The world swam back into focus, a sickening wave of nausea rolling through you.  Your throat rasped, a metallic tang heavy in your mouth. Blinking away blurry spots, the world swayed violently around you. There was a dull throb behind your eyes, and a chilling, empty space where your memories should have been with each sluggish heartbeat.

Fear, raw and primal, gnawed at your insides. Where were you? Everything felt...wrong.

BOOM!

Another thunderclap, followed by a blinding flash of lightning, illuminated the room for a split second. Each crackle of electricity sent a jolt of pain through you, a strange disconnect between the storm outside and the ache in your body.

Disoriented, you tried to sit up, only to find your limbs heavy and unresponsive. Groaning, you forced your eyes back open, expecting the sterile white of a hospital room. But instead, you were met with a riot of bubblegum pink and frilly decorations.

Trying to focus, you pushed yourself off the plush bed, tiny legs unsteady and weak on the plush carpet. Drawn by an instinct you didn't understand, you stumbled towards a small, ornate vanity tucked away in a corner.

BOOM!

Another flash illuminated the room, and for a fleeting moment, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. A face stared back, long, coily red-tinged auburn hair, framed a face unfamiliar and innocent. Light brown skin stretched taut across unfamiliar cheekbones.

However, it was your eyes that truly terrified you.

Golden irises stared back, hypnotic in the flickering light. But it was the crimson rings within them, swirling like miniature storms, that sent a cold dread spiraling down your spine. These eyes, alien and unsettling, were the only familiar thing in this sea of confusion. Where are you? Why did everything feel so wrong?

BOOM!

Tears welled up, blurring the vibrant clash of pink and lightning in the reflection. But even the tears felt alien—a betrayal of a body you didn't recognize. You were adrift in a sea of your own flesh, a puppet with severed strings. No memories, no identity, just a throbbing head, a strange pain in your body, and fear—a cold, suffocating fear that had no name.

Collapsing onto the plush carpet, you reached for the cool vanity for some semblance of comfort. But instead of finding solace, your hand brushed against a soft, frilly nightgown, another alien entity on your unfamiliar skin.

You were lost, a terrified child in a body that felt wrong, with eyes that held a secret you desperately wanted to remember. A frantic voice cut through the cacophony of fear in your head. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

An instinct you didn't understand made you shrink back.

The voice belonged to a woman who rushed to your side, her brow furrowed in worry. Her face, etched with lines of concern, was unfamiliar, yet there was a warmth in her eyes that practically swallowed you whole—you were a star in her desolate sky.

You wanted to ask who she was, who you were, but the moment you tried to form a question, a searing pain lanced through your head. It was easier, for now, to just let the confusion wash over you.

"Come to Mommy~" she reached out, her voice gentle but laced with urgency.

The woman—your apparent mother—sighed, her worry deepening. "Oh, sweetie, you must have been scared with that awful storm. Were you having another bad dream?"

Another dream? The term triggered a flicker of unease.  Dreams?  What dreams?

You clenched your fists, the throbbing in your head intensifying with every attempt to pull a memory from the void.

Nothing.

Frustration welled within you, a surge of anger replacing the fear. "I... I don't remember," you admitted, the words falling flat in the face of your growing anxiety.

Your mother, whoever she was, wrapped her arms around you, a gesture that felt foreign yet strangely comforting.  You didn't know how to react, your body stiff and unyielding in her embrace.

"It's alright, Y/N~" she soothed, her voice tinged with sadness. "Now come on, let's get you cleaned up and ready for breakfast."

The word "Y/N" hung in the air, a name that felt foreign on your tongue—a borrowed coat ill-fitting your shoulders.

As your short and chubby mother, led you away from the unsettling reflection in the mirror, you stole a glance at her. Her burnt orange hair, once vibrant and full of life, was now streaked with silver, a testament to the years that had passed. The curls, once perpetually escaping from any attempt at control, were now pulled back in a loose, lopsided bun, seemed to vibrate with nervous energy.

Her honey-tan skin was dusted with a constellation of dark freckles across the bridge of her nose—boring the etchings of time in the form of wrinkles crinkling around her warm, honey-colored eyes.  Even now, a flicker of worry, a worry that seemed to have become a permanent resident, danced within their depths.

Her name, you vaguely recalled from the panicked jumble in your head, was Mei.

The house itself mirrored Mei—functional, lacking any personal touches.  It spoke of a life lived by routine, devoid of the chaos you once thrived in.  The lack of toys or childish decorations was another jarring note.  Here, in this world of beige walls and muted tones, quirks weren't a topic of conversation, a stark difference from the hero-worshipped society you once manipulated.  Here, it seemed, you were utterly ordinary.

Breakfast was a quiet affair.  Your 'father'—Wino, a stoic man with a perpetual peppered five o'clock shadow—presented a stark contrast.

Tall and lanky, he grunted a greeting before disappearing behind a newspaper. His electric green eyes, usually crinkled at the corners from a lifetime of suppressed smiles, were hidden behind thick wire-rimmed glasses. His hair, once a vibrant auburn, had surrendered to the relentless march of time, turning a stark white that seemed to hold the secrets of countless unspoken words; both he and your mother appeared older than their mid-forties.

As Mei fussed over you, you picked at your food—the unfamiliar taste of fluffy pancakes, a bland echo of the delicacies you once indulged in.

Mei, oblivious to the storm brewing within you, hummed along to a children's show playing on the TV. It depicted brightly colored superheroes battling a giant, fire-breathing lizard. You watched the scene detachedly; it was both whimsical and confusing.

"Welcome back, young heroes-in-training! Today, we're going to learn all about quirks—those amazing abilities that make our world so unique!"

A flurry of images flashed across the screen: a boy with stretchy limbs, a girl who could manipulate fire, a man who could zoom through the air.  Your brow furrowed in concentration.  This was unlike anything you'd ever known.

"Quirks can be anything from super strength to creating illusions!" the cheerful announcer continued, "It's what makes our society so exciting!"

The show droned on, explaining quirk training, hero schools, and the intricate classifications of these bizarre abilities.  You listened intently, a spark of curiosity igniting within you.

What the hell are these "quirks" they kept droning on about?

Suddenly, a booming voice jolted you from your thoughts.

"Mei, change the channel. Not much point in letting her watch that mess. She won't be developing any quirks soon," Wino sighed behind his newspaper, lowering it down with a grimace. "No use in getting her hopes up."

Your mother bit her lip, a flicker of sadness crossing her features. "But she's only five," she began, her voice tinged with defiance, "we don't know if she's actually quirkless, there's always a chance..." Her words trailed off as Wino stood up and left the room without a glance, leaving behind a lingering scent of pipe tobacco in his wake.

You watched him go, your eyes narrowing a bit. Quirkless? The word itself felt foreign, a label you didn't understand but instinctively disliked.

As if on cue, the monotonous ringing of the house phone cut through the tense silence.  Mei gave you a strained smile before hurrying to answer it.  Left alone, you wandered back to the television, the cartoon announcer's overly enthusiastic voice now droning on about the "Quirkless Woes."

"And remember kids," the announcer chirped in a condescending tone, "if you're unfortunate enough to be born without a Quirk, just remember, there are plenty of perfectly ordinary jobs you can take up! Like... janitorial services! Or... grocery bagging!" His patronizing tone made you huff in annoyance; a strange feeling, a mix of anger and confusion, began to nestle in your chest.

Being Quirkless sounded... boring.

Limited.

Unfair.

Suddenly, the cheerful theme song was drowned out by a breaking news alert flashing across the screen. A stern-faced woman with a microphone reported on a villain attack downtown. Live footage showed a hulking man with glowing red eyes causing havoc, his bare fists shattering concrete pillars with ease.

"This is villain Catastrophe causing a rampage in the Musutafu financial district," the newscaster explained. "Heroes are on the scene, but the situation seems critical. We'll continue to bring you updates..."

Your gaze flicked between the cartoon heroes and the real-life devastation; a strange mix of curiosity and... envy? flickered within you.

These people, these heroes, could manipulate reality—defy the laws of physics with the flick of a wrist.

You, on the other hand, were utterly and seemingly ordinary.

The frustration bubbled up again, a familiar feeling you couldn't quite place. Was it the powerlessness? The lack of control? Or perhaps a deeper longing for something more, something you couldn't even articulate?

As the news droned on, Mei switched the TV off, a bright etching itself onto her face. "Come on, sweetie, let's finish your breakfast~" she said gently, "Today's an exciting day, we're learning the alphabet!"

☆

☆

Later that night, as the rain tapped a gentle rhythm against your window, you lay tucked under the covers, Mei having just left after her nightly goodnight kiss.  Staring out at the slick streets, you tried, in vain, to push past the blank canvas of your memories.

A dull ache throbbed behind your eyes, intensifying with each frustrated attempt.  Your body trembled, a cold sweat slicking your skin. Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through your head, and a gasp escaped your lips.

Involuntarily, your eyes flared open, an unsettling yellow glow emanating from them for a fleeting moment.  A metallic tang filled your mouth, and you reached up to your nose, feeling a warm trickle of blood.

Through the ringing in your ears, a voice, faint and distorted, seemed to whisper a name. "...Ma...ki...ma..." it repeated, the syllables blurring together before fading entirely. Each whisper senting a jolt through you, a flicker of a vision erupting behind your closed eyelids.

"...Ma...ki...ma..." The first whisper brought a flash of a pale, porcelain face, a chilling smile stretched impossibly wide across blood-red lips. Then, darkness.

"...Ma...ki...ma..." The voice pleaded, a touch more insistent this time; and with it, it ignited a vision of slender, crimson-stained fingers wrapped around a length of barbed wire, a look of perverse pleasure contorting the unfamiliar face. Darkness again.

"...Ma...ki...ma..." The vision that followed this plea was a kaleidoscope of horrors—a city in flames, screams swallowed by the roar of an unseen beast, and that same face, eyes blazing with a cold, predatory hunger.

A wave of nausea washed over you, and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter, willing the visions away.

The whispers began to quicken, a desperate urgency seeping into their tone. "Ma...ki...ma...Ma...ki...ma!" Each utterance felt like a physical blow, a sledgehammer pounding against the fortress of your mind. With each beat, the visions intensified, a torrent of violence and depravity flooding your senses.

A cackle, laced with madness, echoed in the darkness. You saw twisted shadows writhe on the ground, heard the sickening crunch of bones, felt the heat of searing flames licking at your skin.

And then, her face, crystal clear this time, filled your vision.

The pale girl, the crimson smile—Makima.

Her eyes, once a mesmerizing crimson, were now a bottomless void, devoid of any humanity.

"Makima!" The final whisper arrived in a shout of despair, resonating with horrifying clarity, shattering the last vestiges of your resistance.

Your pupils dilated, a single word echoing in the vast emptiness—Makima.

It was a name, a fragment of who you were, but it offered no explanation for your current existence.

Slowly, the tremor subsided, the yellow glow in your eyes receding, leaving behind a chilling emptiness.  Fear melted into a strange sense of clarity.

You were Makima, but you were also Y/N.

Calming your ragged breaths, you tested the name on your tongue in a low, raspy whisper. "Makima..."

It held power—a chilling familiarity—but it felt distant, alien.

Y/N, the name your mother called you, felt more comfortable, more like your own.

Yes, you decided; you were Y/N.

You didn't know who Makima was, but you would find out. And in the meantime, you would carve your own path in this world, as Y/N.

A determined glint flickered in your eyes, a spark of defiance against the unknown future.

***EECKKK!! I'm so hyped for this, lol. Just get ready for all the fan-service cuz y'all know i love being delusional, lololo

Anyways, here's a sneek peak, I have like 10+ completed and should start updating regularly in about a week (i plan on having 20+ completed so I won't keeping you guys waiting too long in between updates) See y'all next update ❤️

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 00 Chapter 00 | Blurb⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

In a blink, the bulky bully found himself on his knees, gasping for breath.

❝W-What? What are you—❞

You loomed over him, your grip tightening around his tie until it strained and choked off his pathetic pleas. A low, menacing growl rumbled from your chest, vibrating through him. ❝Shut up,❞you hissed, the words laced with icy venom. His eyes widened in sheer terror, and any further whimpers died a silent death in his throat.

Suddenly, the squeak of approaching shoes cut through the tense silence. You snapped your head up, eyes flashing with icy fury that locked onto the two remaining lackeys. Irritated, you barked a single word, ❝Sit.❞

The command was laced with such power that the two boys could only exchange panicked glances before they found their minds going blank and mindlessly following your orders, collapsing onto the ground like obedient dogs.

The indigo-haired boy, still sprawled on the ground, could only watch in utter shock as the tides turned completely.

Turning your attention back to the trembling bully at your mercy, you felt a tremor run through your own hand. ❝Bitch?❞you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper. The name sent a surge of rage coursing through you, your eyes flickering with an otherworldly, yellow glow. ❝How dare you, you filthy, lowly being,refer to me as such!❞

You leaned in closer, your voice dripping with venom. ❝Do I look like I belong amongst the inferior pests you call friends and family? Like I...❞You trailed off, your rage reaching a boiling point. With a final, earth-shattering roar, you threw back your head and declared, ❝I'm not bitch! I am a god!❞

Humans.

Oh, how you despised them.

As the Control Devil, you couldn't help but see them for what they truly were: inferior pests that belong beneath your thumb.

So imagine your surprise that you found yourself dying at the hands of one and waking up in a world where 'Quirks' define one's worth, with no recollection of who you were.

But as whispers of your past life soon began seeping through the cracks of your new reality, you decided that a life without your reverend Pochita wasn't a life worth living.

So the question remains: What's left for you to do?

╭─↬ ❗𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆❗ ↫─╮ There will be mentions/descriptive scenes of the following:

╭ ⁞ ❏. Language ┊ ⁞ ❏. Stalker-Like Tendencies ┊ ⁞ ❏. Toxic/Manipulative Behavior ┊ ⁞ ❏. Alcohol Usage ┊ ⁞ ❏. Gore/Violence ┊ ⁞ ❏. Apathetic/Antisocial Behavior ┊ ⁞ ❏. Minor/Major Character Deaths ┊ ⁞ ❏. Yandere Tendencies

Lol, I don't know if I got them all, so if you see anything I didn't list, come back and comment right here so I can add them to the list later ➡

Enjoy (•͈˽•͈)

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 05 Chapter 05 | awakening force⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The thrill of your newfound power lingered as you walked home. A shiver danced down your spine—a delicious mix of fear and exhilaration.

You were no longer just Y/N. You were something more, something... powerful.

Reaching your house, the murmur of conversation drifted from the kitchen.

Inside, you found your mom chatting with a couple perched at the table—Hiro and Shisuki, your parents' old high school friends.

You vaguely remembered them stopping by a few weeks ago to celebrate your dad's promotion.

Hiro, tall and tan with a shock of lime-green hair and light brown eyes, flashed a friendly grin. Shisuki, his wife, offered a wan smile. She was pale and slender, her lavender hair mirroring the color of her eyes.

You noticed something subtly off about them. You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

Your mom, ever watchful, intercepted you before you could linger. "Y/N! There you are, sweetie. Let me see those hands." Her voice held a familiar edge of worry as she inspected the scrapes from your encounter with Bakugo.

Before you could protest, she whisked you upstairs, muttering about "rough-housing" and "being careful."

With a sigh, you resigned yourself to a quick bath. Wrapping a towel around your head, you picked up a rag and began drying your hair as your mom hurried downstairs, called upon by your dad to help entertain the guests while dinner simmered.

Alone in your room, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor, you replayed the scene in your mind.

The memory of your helpless rage, the shove that sent Bakugo sprawling— it all felt distant now, overshadowed by the chilling realization of what happened next.

The way Bakugo crumpled, his whimpers replaced by a strange, terrified silence—it was like you'd flicked a switch, taking control of him not with your body, but with your will.

Suddenly, the image in your mind flickered. Bakugo's tear-streaked face contorted, morphing into an older visage. Golden-brown eyes, framed by a mess of unruly blond hair, stared up at you with an unsettling intensity. A wide, toothy grin stretched across his face, revealing a chipped canine tooth.

The boy—no, the young man—held a chainsaw in one hand, the whirring blade a constant hum against the silence. Yet, despite the weapon and the wildness in his eyes, the most unsettling aspect was the way he looked at you.

It wasn't just fear or submission; it was a kind of god-worship, a bizarre adoration that promised nothing but utter obedience.

The distorted voice echoed in your mind, the words spoken with a reverence that bordered on obsession. "You... have control..."

You blinked, the mental image dissolving like smoke. Your heart hammered against your ribs, the echo of the phantom voice lingering in your ears.

The room seemed to vibrate with your nervous energy. You grabbed a stray pillow, squeezing it until your knuckles turned white.

This power... it was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit that promised both dominion and danger.

The memory of Bakugo's terrified face warred with the strange, exhilarated feeling of controlling the distorted figure in your mind. It felt wrong, alien, yet strangely exhilarating.

You practiced the word in your mind, a mantra of your newfound power: "Control." The word resonated within you, a dark promise of possibilities. Curiosity gnawed at you. Could you do it again?

Glancing out the window, you saw a familiar sight—a plump robin perched on the sill, its head tilted inquisitively.

This little visitor often graced your window ledge, a welcome distraction from the monotony of your days.

Today, however, it served a different purpose. It was a test subject, a pawn in the game you were starting to play with your own abilities.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you pushed the window open a fraction. The robin cocked its head again, then with a bold chirp, hopped inside.

It fluttered around the room for a moment, its bright red breast a splash of color against the now-beige walls (you utterly despised the pretty-pink-princess aesthetic and threw an absolute fit until it was gone).

A cruel amusement bubbled within you.

This was your domain now, and this little creature was subject to your will.

You focused your mind, picturing the bird in your control. "Fly." You willed the bird to take flight.

It obeyed instantly, launching itself from the floor in a flurry of feathers. You guided it through the air with your thoughts, a puppeteer manipulating its movements.

The bird performed aerial flips, swooped low to the ground, then ascended again in dizzying spirals.

A giddy smile stretched across your face as you willed the robin to perform another daring maneuver. It swooped low to the ground, skimming the throw rug with its wings before launching into a spectacular corkscrew climb.

You felt a surge of exhilaration, a sense of power you'd never known before.

This—this was your Quirk!

Suddenly, the urge to share your newfound ability with your parents overwhelmed you.

You bolted for the stairs, the excited chirp of the robin echoing in your wake. Reaching the top of the stairs, you paused.

Your parents were in the living room, your mom topping off two glasses of whiskey for their guests.

"So, how's Y/N doing these days? Anything new?" you heard Hiro ask, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

"Oh, you know," Wino replied, his tone dismissive.  "Same old, same old. Still no sign of a Quirk manifesting."

A bitter taste filled your mouth.

Here you were, bursting with the revelation of your newfound power, only to be dismissed by your own father.

Hiro chuckled, the sound sharp and unpleasant.  "Poor kid. Stuck being Quirkless in a world like this.  Rough luck."

Your father laughed along, a hollow sound that grated on your nerves.

Mei, ever perceptive, picked up on the shift in the conversation.  "Dinner will be ready soon," she announced, her voice laced with annoyance.  "Wino, please try not to discuss such sensitive topics about our daughter while I'm here." With a huff, she turned and stalked back towards the kitchen.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

You stood frozen on the stairs, the joy of your discovery replaced by a cold anger. They didn't believe in you.

They pitied you.

You stared at them, a cold emptiness settling in your chest. Their flippant dismissal of your prior Quirklessness, the way they treated it like a minor inconvenience, stung more than you cared to admit.

Without a word, you turned and retreated back up the stairs, the robin fluttering after you with a soft chirp.

Reaching your room, you sank onto the bed, the bird landing gently on your shoulder. Staring down at the bird, a flicker of defiance sparked in your eyes.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You reached out a hand, gently rubbing its soft feathers.  Focusing on the bird, you willed it to fly away.  "Fly," you whispered the order once more.

The robin launched itself into the air, soaring effortlessly around your room. A surge of satisfaction coursed through you. You could do it again.

You were powerful.

For the next hour, you spent time honing your newfound ability. It was like playing a video game, but with a living creature as your avatar.

You sent the bird on dizzying spirals, weaving through furniture and dodging obstacles with practiced ease. But as minutes turned into an hour, the thrill began to wane.

The bird, once curious, now fluttered erratically, its tiny body exhausted by your relentless commands.

You released your control, and with a tired chirp, the robin landed on your outstretched finger. You stroked its soft feathers, a sense of boredom replacing your amusement.

A different idea took root. You remembered the innate feeling that nearly swallowed you as you willed Bakugo under your control.

With a deep breath, you focused on the bird, visualizing a pressure building within its tiny body. Staring intently at the robin, you willed that invisible force to constrict its organs.

The bird froze, its bright eyes filled with sudden fear. You broke eye contact and released the pressure. It chirped weakly, its body trembling.

You hadn't seen any outside physical harm, but the raw terror in the bird's eyes was enough.

The robin let out a relieved chirp and took shook its feathers, before looking up at you, waiting for its next command.

As the bird sat before you, a surge of exhilaration washed over you.

You hadn't just controlled something; you'd inflicted pain, a mere taste of the power you now wielded.

A chilling realization settled in your stomach—this wasn't just dominance; it was manipulation on a terrifying level.

Suddenly, a familiar voice jolted you from your introspection. "Y/N! Dinner's ready, honey!" It was your mother's voice, laced with a warmth that seemed to pierce the fog of darkness clouding your mind.

With a sigh that carried the weight of the world, you sat the bird down and pushed yourself off the bed, heading downstairs. Every step felt heavy, a chore rather than a movement.

As you reached the bottom stair, something strange caught your attention.

It was a smell. Not unpleasant, but amplified.

Your mom's familiar scent of lavender soap and cinnamon rolls mingled with the sharp tang of cleaning supplies. But these were just base notes. A new layer of perception had been added.

You could smell everything with a startling clarity.

Your father's cologne, a cloying mix of citrus and musk, suddenly seemed overpowering.

Shisuki's perfume was a sickly sweet floral that made your stomach churn. Hiro's scent was worse—a combination of stale beer and something vaguely acrid, like sweat that hadn't quite dried.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you came to a screeching halt. The world smelled different, and not necessarily in a good way.

Then came sight.

You recognized the scene unfolding before you—your mother setting dishes, your father laughing with a man by the TV. But a chilling disconnect settled in your gut.

You knew who these people were supposed to be—your parents and their friends, Hiro and Shisuki. Yet, their appearances seemed...wrong.

Your mother turned, her smile widening at the sight of you. "There you are, sweetie! Come sit down, dinner's ready."  She gestured towards the table, her familiar voice a grounding presence amidst the sensory overload.

You shuffled forward, eyes glued to the couple beside your parents.

Hiro, you vaguely remembered, was tall and tan with brown eyes and lime green hair. Shisuki, his wife, was pale and slender and had hair the color of lavender with matching eyes.

But staring at them now, their features seemed blurry, their colors muted.  Like someone had smeared their image with dirty fingers.

You tried to focus, to etch their appearances into your memory.  But the harder you concentrated, the more their forms dissolved, details slipping through your grasp like sand through your fingers.

Panic clawed at your throat.  What was happening?  Why couldn't you remember their faces?

A sudden realization dawned on you. The heightened sense of smell came at a cost. You could now only distinguish people by their scent, but your ability to differentiate faces seemed to have dulled.

It was a strange trade-off, one that mirrored how a dog identifies others through scent.

You had gained a quirk, yes, but it came with a price—quickly, you darted your eyes down to your plate, unable to bear looking at the distorted couple any longer.  But even that small movement seemed to draw attention.

"Honey, is everything alright?" Mei's voice filled the room, laced with concern.

You wanted to scream, to blurt out your questions: Were those really Hiro and Shisuki?  Was your mind playing tricks on you?  But the words wouldn't come.  The fear was paralyzing.

Stealing another glance at the couple before forcing your eyes back to your plate, you mumbled, "I don't feel very hungry anymore."

Your mother's eyes widened significantly, a hint of worry flickering across her face.  "Oh, sweetie," she began, her voice taking on that fretful tone you knew all too well.  "Is there something wrong? Maybe you don't like what I made? I could fix you something else—"

Before she could launch into a full-blown worry spiral, your father cut in.  "Y/N," he started, his voice heavy with irritation, "stop acting childish and just eat your dinner."

The room fell silent.

You felt a prickle of defiance rise within you, but it was quickly squashed by the overwhelming confusion and fear.

You stared up blankly at your father, then reached across the table for your water glass, taking a slow sip before setting it back down with a clink.

"You know what—" your father started, his voice rising in anger.

But before he could explode, Shisuki interjected, her voice firm but strangely calm.  "Wino," she said, clearing her throat slightly, "why don't you take a breather? Maybe go outside for a smoke or something?"

A beat of silence followed, then Hiro spoke up, his voice warm and friendly.  "Yeah, man. Take twenty.  We'll keep an eye on things."

With a heavy sigh, and a final glare in your direction, your father pushed himself away from the table.  "Fine," he grumbled. "But someone's gotta go get some dessert. There's nothing decent in this house."

Without waiting for a response, he stormed out, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, the air crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before.

Shisuki, with a cruel edge creeping into her previously saccharine voice, leaned towards your mother and remarked, "Honestly, I don't know how you two deal with it, Mei. All that screaming and tantrums—it's no wonder people are rethinking having kids these days. It honestly makes us so grateful we don't have to deal with any of that with Yumi."

Hiro, previously sporting a smug smirk, let out a bark of laughter that grated on your nerves.  "Yeah, Shisuki's right. Yumi's such a sweet, well-adjusted child. Always top of her class, never a complaint," he chimed in, his voice laced with a smugness that turned your stomach.  "Y/N? She's a walking advertisement for abstinence if I ever saw one."

The words struck you like a physical blow.  Your breath hitched, and a hot ember of anger ignited in your chest, growing with each passing insult.

You clenched your fists so tightly your nails dug into your palms, but it wasn't enough to contain the surge of power that threatened to erupt from within.

Your mother, bless her heart, attempted a feeble defense. "She's just going through a tough phase, that's all," she stammered, her voice wavering. "She'll grow out of it."

Shisuki scoffed, the sound harsh and dismissive. "Oh, honey, this is more than just a phase," she condescended, her eyes flickering towards you with a cold, calculating gleam. "What you need to do is take her to a professional. There are specialists who can deal with these...issues."  Her voice dripped with a false sympathy that made your skin crawl.  "After all, I am a child psychologist. I've seen my fair share of troubled youngsters."

Wino's absence hung heavy in the air, his departure emboldening the couple like vultures sensing weakness.  They felt free to dissect you like a lab rat, their words slicing deeper with each cruel pronouncement.

Mei, clearly struggling, could only stammer a weak response, overwhelmed by their condescending assault.

Then, a horrifying realization dawned on you. They weren't just talking about you—they pitied your parents for having you, while in the same breath, celebrating their own perfect child.

A dangerous glint flickered in your eyes, mirroring the growing inferno within your chest.  The memory of Bakugo's compliance surfaced, a chillingly sweet reminder of your newfound power; the image of the robin, tweeting in alarm, hapless and in your mercy.

For a terrifying split second, the world seemed to blink. Shisuki was crumpled sideways, her head lolling at an unnatural angle as crimson bloom spread across her once-pristine white blouse, a silent scream trapped behind her lips.

Hiro slumped forward, his chair clattered onto the floor, eyes wide with terror as a similar stain blossomed on his lime-green shirt. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, a sickening counterpoint to their choked gasps and desperate clawing at empty air.

Their bodies convulsed into a grotesque form of flesh and bones, their lives draining away before your very eyes.

The image was so vivid, so real, that you almost choked on a gasp. Your breath hitched, the taste of iron flooding your mouth. But before you could succumb to the darkness, a flicker of self-preservation sparked within you.

No, they won't get the better of you.

With a deep breath, you wrestled the power back in, forcing it down into the churning depths of your being.

Slamming your fork down on the table, the harsh clang echoed through the room, effectively halting the conversation.  All eyes turned to you, surprise etched on their faces.

"I'm not hungry anymore," you declared, your voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor running through you.  "Good night."  Without waiting for a response, you pushed yourself away from the table and headed towards the stairs.

"Honey, wait!" your mother called after you, her voice laced with concern.  "Are you sure you're alright?  Maybe I can make you a sandwich..."

You paused on the bottom step, the sound of her fretting already starting to grate on your nerves.  "No, really, I'm fine," you said, forcing a smile.  "Thanks anyway."

As you ascended the stairs, you could hear your mother's voice trailing behind you, a mixture of concern and indecision.

Reaching your door, you spared a final glance back at the scene unfolding downstairs.  Shisuki and Hiro were engrossed in conversation again, their faces devoid of any worry about your abrupt departure.

The moment you were out of sight, however, the conversation shifted.  Their voices, though lowered, were still audible.

"Honestly," Hiro scoffed, "what a useless child.  Quirkless and a constant burden."

Your mother gasped, a sound of wounded pride. "Hiro!" she protested.  "That's not fair.  And besides, Wino and I are Quirkless too, remember?"

Shisuki, her voice dripping with condescension once again, waved her off dismissively.  "Darling, at least you two contribute to society. Your husband's a decent accountant, and you tutor those college kids on the side. But what good is that girl?  She's a walking black hole of wasted potential. Honestly, she'd probably be better off in some kind of...  well, you know."

Their words hung heavy in the air, the unspoken implication a sledgehammer blow to your already fragile ego.

Your hand instinctively closed around the doorknob, knuckles turning white. A cold fury burned in your gut, fueled by their callous disregard for your feelings.

As the last of their conversation faded away, you finally closed the door, the sound a small act of defiance.

Slumping against the cool wood, you slid down to the floor, knees pulled tight to your chest.  Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palm until a crescent moon of pain bloomed.

The heat in your chest bubbled over, a volcanic rage threatening to erupt.  Your body trembled, wracked with a potent mix of anger and fear.

Flashes of the power you wielded, the intoxicating satisfaction of controlling Bakugo and toying with the bird, looped through your mind like a cruel highlight reel.

"I...need it," you muttered, the words barely a whisper.  The urge to unleash that power, to silence the voices that taunted and belittled you, was overwhelming.

But then, a soft chirp pierced the storm raging within you.  You glanced up to see the robin perched on your desk, its head cocked inquisitively.

The sight of the small creature, so full of life and innocence, was a much-needed anchor.

Taking a shaky breath, you pushed yourself to your feet, legs wobbly like a newborn foal.

Stumbling towards the bird, you reached out a hand.  It chirped again, a single, questioning note, before hopping onto your outstretched palm.

Walking over to the window, bathed in the soft glow of the twilight sky, you gently stroked the bird's head.  Below, you could see your parents saying their goodbyes to Shisuki and Hiro.

Their laughter, strained and forced, grated on your nerves.

Eyes going blank, you entered a state of intense focus. The world narrowed, the air crackling with invisible energy. Walking back to your bed, the small bird remained motionless on your finger.

You settled against the pillows, propping yourself up for a better view. "Fly." With a chirp, the bird nestled in your hand took flight around your room once again. Its tiny wings beat a silent rhythm as it zipped and zagged.

With a sigh, you dropped your hands, severing the mental connection.

Well, kind of.

The moment the bird was outside of your window, a harsh caw ripped through the air.

"Caw!" You recognized it instantly—the hunting call of the large falcon that had been terrorizing the smaller birds lately.

Right on cue, a blur of feathered fury streaked into view, diving for its prey

Just as the falcon was about to snatch the smaller bird in its talons, you clenched your fists, focusing your power inwards. It was a forceful contraction, like crumpling a piece of paper with your mind.

Staring intently at your clenched fist, you imagined the falcon instead. You envisioned every detail, its sharp beak, powerful wings, and piercing eyes.

Then, with a flick of your wrist, you imagined it crushed, its body crumpled like the paper you'd envisioned earlier.

A beat later, a sickening thud echoed from outside, followed by a strangled cry.

You scrambled to your window, flinging it open despite the cool night air.  Below, on the sidewalk in front of your house, a gruesome scene unfolded.

Shisuki and Hiro, caught completely off guard, stood frozen in shock.  Blood splattered across their clothes, a horrifying reminder of the falcon that lay lifeless at their feet, its body mangled beyond recognition.

You stared, the image searing itself into your memory. A wave of apathy, as familiar as an old friend, washed over you.

The dream, the impossible dream, of a life with Pochita—a family built on fear and adoration, flickered through your mind.

Even if you'd been devoured by Chainsaw Man himself, even if you'd been granted a twisted rebirth in that blood-soaked world, the machinations would have continued.

Schemes and plots would have brewed in the dark corners of your mind, always focused on the same objective: eliminating the blonde parasite, Denji, and securing your place at Pochita's side.

But here, in this mundane reality, such grand ambitions felt pointless.

With a sigh that carried the weight of extinguished dreams, you slumped back against the pillows.  The power you possessed was a burden, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked within you.

Maybe, you thought with a flicker of morbid curiosity, there was a way to use it for good.

But for now, the allure of apathy was far too strong to resist.  You closed your eyes, the image of the lifeless falcon and the horrified faces of Shisuki and Hiro swirling behind your eyelids.

The future is now stretched before you, an uncertain path riddled with both possibilities and perils.

Would you become a conqueror, wielding your power for dominion? Or could you learn to control not just others, but yourself?

Who knows? But there one thing you do know...

The game had just begun, and the choice was yours.

***Ahh, denji my bby 😭❤️

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 04 Chapter 04 | emerging predator⌟

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Stepping outside with your father felt like entering a whole new world. Gone were the familiar, if slightly rundown, streets you saw from your window. Instead, vibrant shops and bustling cafes lined the sidewalks, their colorful awnings casting playful patterns on the sun-drenched pavement.

It was a stark contrast to your usual world, one carefully curated by your mother's anxieties and confined within the walls of your apartment.

Today, however, your father, emboldened by a rare burst of parental responsibility (or perhaps a guilty conscience), had decided to take you to the park. Not the one your mother frequented, a secluded affair several blocks away, but the popular one just down the street. The one teeming with life, with children your age laughing and playing with an abandon you'd only witnessed on television.

Despite the excitement bubbling within you, a tiny spark of unease flickered in your chest. This was uncharted territory. Your world, meticulously planned by your mother, had always prioritized safety over socialization. So now, plopped into this hurricane of sounds and sights, you felt a sense of vulnerability you hadn't experienced before.

Your father, oblivious to your internal turmoil, seemed to bask in the sunshine. "Ready for some fun, Y/N?" he boomed, his voice filled with an enthusiasm that felt foreign coming from him.

You offered a hesitant nod, your gaze darting around as you took in the scene.

There were children everywhere—on bikes, climbing structures, chasing each other with shrieks of laughter. This wasn't the curated silence of your homeschool sessions; this was a symphony of chaos, and you weren't sure if you hated it or loved it.

An undeniable pull, however, led you towards the swings. There were only one of them—its brightly colored seat swaying gently in the breeze, invitingly.

Mustering all your courage, you walked towards it, a strange mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. The ground beneath your feet felt different—softer, somehow, than the worn rug in your living room.

As you approached the swing, the sounds of the park seemed to fade away, replaced by a low hum that resonated deep within your chest.

You reached out and grasped the cool metal chains, a tremor running through your fingertips just as a hand slammed down on the opposite chain.

You looked up to find a boy with spiky blond hair glaring down at you, his crimson eyes burning with an intensity that startled you.  "This is my swing. Get lost, extra," he declared, his voice rough and demanding.  He yanked the chain, forcing the swing to lurch forward.

"No," you replied calmly, your voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in your hands.  "I had it first."  You pulled back gently, trying to reclaim your spot.

The boy's face contorted in fury.  "So what?" he yelled, his voice laced with a hostility you weren't used to.  "Give it to me! I want to swing!"

You repeated yourself, this time with an unwavering firmness. "I said, I had it first."  There was no anger in your voice, just a quiet insistence on fairness.

The boy, clearly frustrated by your lack of reaction to his outburst, scoffed.  With a shove, he sent you stumbling back.  You landed hard on the ground, scraping your palms on the rough pavement.

For a moment, you sat there, stunned.

Slowly, you rose your hands, turning them over to examine the scrapes. Red bubbled up at the scratches, a small trail glistening crimson as it snaked down your wrist.

Blood.

Your pupils dilated, zeroing in on the wound with a strange fascination.

It stung, a dull throb that pulsed with your heartbeat. But the pain was distant, muted by a cold wave of anger that washed over you.

It wasn't the sting of the scrape that held your attention, but the sight of your own blood.

This wasn't tears...wasn't weakness.

This was different.

This was a mark, a sign that you were just sitting there taking it.

The anger, fueled by the boy's unprovoked aggression, simmered within you, a dark fire stoked by the crimson staining your hands.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, brushing the dirt off your clothes. You turned to the boy, who was now smugly swinging back and forth on the swing, a cruel smile plastered on his face.

The sight of his joy sparked a new wave of anger within you. You marched towards the swing, your steps purposeful and heavy.

The boy didn't notice your approach until he was mid-swing, his back momentarily turned. In that instant, you saw your opportunity.

With a cold, calculated shove, you pushed him on the back—not a forceful push, but a small push delivered with surprising little strength considering your anger.

The boy shrieked in surprise, his laughter cut short. He tumbled forward, landing face-first on the ground with a sickening thud.

He wasn't laughing anymore.

The swing had stopped abruptly, and the boy laid sprawled on the ground, a whimper escaping his lips.  His face crumpled in pain as he inspected his scraped hands, mirroring the sting on your own palms.

A spark of confusion flickered through your anger. You hadn't pushed him that hard, yet here he was bawling as if you didn't just go through the same thing.

The longer you watched him cry about his injuries, the more a new, unsettling feeling grew within you.

It wasn't sympathy, not entirely. It was irritation.

Here you were, both of you scraped and hurting, but you weren't the one bawling like a baby.

He was weak.

Your face fell into a scowl as his whimpers grew louder. A hot feeling bubbled deep within your stomach, a churning sensation that rose into your throat like a bitter tide.

It wasn't just anger anymore; it was a primal dominance, a sense of superiority fueled by his vulnerability.

"Stop crying,"you said, your voice devoid of warmth, laced with a chilling command.

The boy's sniffles ceased instantly, replaced by a watery silence.

He looked up at you, his red eyes wide and glistening. There was no defiance in his gaze, just a strange mixture of fear and something that almost resembled...submission.

"Stand up," you ordered, your voice laced with a newfound authority.

He complied, his lower lip trembling slightly.

Humming thoughtfully, you tilted your head, a predatory glint flashing in your eyes.

The world around you seemed to shift subtly. It was as if everything—the other children playing, the bustling city life, even the birds chirping in the trees—had faded away.

In their place, you saw only the boy, his tear-streaked face, his trembling form.

You motioned for him to join you. "Come,"you said, a hint of a sinister amusement coloring your tone.

He hesitated, then slowly walked towards you, his head bowed, a defeated shadow of his former bravado.

As you turned to lead him towards a more secluded part, away from the watchful eyes of the adults and the carefree shrieks of other children, you couldn't help but notice two figures approaching.

"Hey!" one of them called out, a boisterous brown-haired boy with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Did you get that weirdo off the swing like you said you would?"

The other boy, shorter and stockier with dark hair, nudged his friend.  "Yeah, come on! Don't tell me you lost to a girl!"

Their taunts hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the chilling silence that surrounded you and the boy. The brunette boy, oblivious to the shift in power dynamics, reached out to grab the blond's shoulder, his touch filled with careless camaraderie.

But the boy didn't react.  He didn't flinch, didn't snarl his usual retort.  His gaze remained fixed on you, his red eyes wide and unblinking.

A flicker of confusion crossed the brunette boy's face, his hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. "Bakugo?" he questioned, his voice laced with a hint of unease.

The name registered in your mind.

"Leave us alone," you finally said, your voice flat and devoid of emotion.  It wasn't a request; it was a command.

The two boys stared at you, taken aback by your sudden presence and the chilling authority that emanated from you.

The brunette boy slowly retracted his hand, his bravado replaced by a wary curiosity. "W-Who are you?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

You didn't answer.  You didn't need to.

A low growl echoed from behind you. Bakugo, his eyes still glazed over, turned with a sluggish grunt. "Didn't she stutter, extras?" he rasped, his voice devoid of its usual fire but laced with a dangerous edge.  He sparked his hands, the familiar crackling a stark contrast to his monotone voice. "Get lost 'fore I make you!"

The boys flinched back in unison, fear replacing their previous curiosity. The shorter one grabbed his friend's arm, his voice barely above a squeak. "Whatever, Bakugo, you're such a jerk!"

"Yeah, come on, let's just go," the brunette mumbled, clearly shaken. They didn't dare argue further, the shorter one practically dragging his friend away.

As soon as they were out of sight, the spark in Bakugo's hands died down and his shoulders slumped. He turned back to you, his posture returning to its previous desolate state.

You tilted your head, studying him with a detached curiosity.

There it was again—that flicker of obedience, that unquestioning response to your command. Even in this dazed state, he'd moved to protect you, to follow your will without hesitation.

With a silent flick of your head, you continued walking towards the secluded area, Bakugo following close behind like a shadow tethered to your will. And as he followed, a disturbing thought flickered across your mind: he resembled a puppy, eager to please his master.

A twisted pleasure bloomed in your stomach at the comparison.

And in that moment, with a horrifying clarity, it all clicked.  The whispers of power during your tantrum, the strange sensation on the swings—it all made sense.

A low chuckle escaped your lips, a sound devoid of humor. "Puppy~" you echoed, the word tasting sweet on your tongue. It felt like a fitting name for him now, a reminder of his whimpering and his newfound submission.

As you watched Bakugo's once-egotistical eyes stare dazed up at you, a truth settled in your stomach with the weight of a revelation. You were no longer just a quirkless-normie.

You had power.

A thrill shot through you, a current of raw electricity that sparked a maniacal glint in your eyes.

I'm special, you thought, the words echoing in your mind like a mantra wasn't just a whisper; it was a triumphant roar that resonated deep within you. I'm special, I'm special, I'm special.

But the most intoxicating sensation came from Bakugo himself. It wasn't a physical connection, but something far more primal. It felt like his very will, his defiance, his ego—once so fierce—now flowed towards you like a tethered kite on a gentle breeze.

You could almost feel it, a faint vibration against your very being, a melody sung on a frequency only you could hear.

It was exhilarating.  It was terrifying.  It was a power you barely understood, yet you craved to explore its depths.

A predatory smile stretched across your face, sending shivers down your spine.  This wasn't just about dominance; it was about control.

You tilted your head, studying him with a predatory curiosity. This new power you possessed demanded exploration, and this boy, Bakugo as you now knew him, was the first test subject.

"What's your name, puppy?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with an undercurrent of control. The way you phrased it wasn't a question; it was an order, a demand for information you expected him to fulfill.

Bakugo, his eyes still wide and watery, did not meet your gaze. His body remained slack, lost in a daze as if the world had muted around him. A single word escaped his lips, barely a whisper. "Kacchan," he mumbled, the familiar nickname devoid of its usual bravado.

A humorless chuckle rippled through you. The way he clung to that childish moniker was almost... quaint. "Kacchan, huh?" you mused, tilting your head further.  "Don't be shy~" you cooed, your voice dripping with a false sweetness. "Tell me your real name, Kacchan. Or should I call you something else entirely? Something more... fitting of your current state?"

Bakugo's chest hitched with a shallow breath, his body trembling ever so slightly.  Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, a single word escaped his lips. "Ka-Bakugo...Bakugo Katsuki," he stuttered, the name catching in his throat.

There was no fire in his voice, no defiance—just a raw vulnerability that sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

The challenge had been met, not with defiance, but with a broken submission that was far more satisfying.  You had him, Bakugo, completely under your thrall.  His age, his quirk, goals, fears—all these details would come to you in time.

For now, you reveled in the power you wielded, a puppeteer with a broken marionette at your command. So lost in the realization of your newly discovered power, you didn't notice your slip of control over Bakugo.

The effect was instantaneous.  Bakugo, who had been looking around in a dazed trance suddenly crumpled to his knees.  His body trembled uncontrollably, eyes wide and vacant.  Then, with a jolt, his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis for him.  You, bathed in the afternoon sun, looked like an innocent angel—head tilted, a sweet smile gracing your lips.

But it was your eyes that sent shivers down his spine.

They glowed a chilling electric yellow, the crimson irises pulsing with a strange energy. The multiple red rings within them seemed to expand and contract, hypnotic and terrifying.

Tears welled up in Bakugo's eyes, brimming over and tracing hot tracks down his cheeks.  He didn't even realize he was crying again, his entire focus consumed by your gaze.

A commotion erupted nearby.  A woman with short blonde hair, a mirror image of Bakugo's spiky mane, rushed over, her face etched with concern.  "Katsuki! What's wrong?" she cried, scooping him up in her arms.

Bakugo, still trembling, could only whimper, his voice failing him.  All he could see were your eyes, those glowing orbs that promised something dark and terrifying.

His mother, oblivious to the true cause of his distress (after all, no one had witnessed your display of power), assumed he was simply shaken from the fall. Barely giving you a glance, she hurried away, her son clinging to her neck.

As they disappeared into the crowd, a hiss escaped your lips, the sound laced with a newfound arrogance. "Weak," you spat, the word heavy with contempt.

As you looked away from the retreating figures, the world once again seemed to shift. The vibrant colors muted, the sounds dulled. The people around you, once just faces in a crowd, now appeared... diminished.

Like scattered pieces on a chessboard, they seemed submissive, easily controlled.

The animals scampering through the park, the birds flitting through the trees—they all felt smaller, less significant. In your mind's eye, they were reduced to mere dogs, cowering beneath your invisible leash.

A shiver ran down your spine, a thrilling mix of fear and exhilaration.

You were no longer just Y/N. You were something more, something... powerful. And the world, once a place of confusion and confinement, now stretched before you as a vast, unexplored territory.

A territory you were fated to conquer.

***no cuz I told myself I wasn't gonna update 💀💀 but I just had to leave y'all on a cliffhanger 🤪 see y'all next update...also *le gasp* bby bakugo??

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 15 Chapter 15 | gauging reactions⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

A satisfied smirk played on your lips as you both reached the large, white and gray bus. Iida, ever the gentleman, gestured towards the open door. "After you, Akuma-san," he said politely, stepping aside to allow you on board.

"Thank you, Iida-kun," you replied with a gracious nod, stepping onto the bus. The chatter inside immediately died down as everyone turned to stare at you. The confusion was evident. They were expecting Iida to return, not you.

"Hey, Four Eyes! The hell took you so long? Had to take a crap or somethin—" Bakugo's booming voice cut through the silence, but the sentence died abruptly on his lips as his crimson eyes landed on you. The amusement instantly drained from his face, replaced by a scowl that didn't reach his eyes. "Y/N? The hell you doin' here?"

You ignored his question, choosing instead to unleash your secret weapon—a sweet, closed-eye smile. It was a weapon you'd discovered held surprising power, especially over the other pests in your life—especially your little puppy, Bakugo.

And sure enough, a faint blush crept across Bakugo's cheeks, momentarily breaking his tough-guy facade, shutting him down. He quickly scoffed and turned away toward the window in a futile attempt to hide his flustered reaction.

Aizawa, who had been dozing in the front seat, finally stirred at the commotion. He slowly dragged himself to his feet, his hair a mess as ever. "Took you long enough, Iida," he mumbled in a monotone voice. Noticing the surprised looks on everyone's faces, he sighed dramatically.

"Alright, alright," he drawled, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. "Seems the message wasn't clear. Akuma-san here will be joining you on your little field trip to U.S.J. Consider it a... motivator. A chance for Class 1-A to see that they're not the only ones vying for hero licenses." His yellow eyes flickered across the students' faces, a cryptic message lingering in their depths.

There was more to this than a simple observation session; that much was clear. But what exactly? Aizawa left the unspoken question hanging in the air, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

With another tired sigh, he gestured towards the back of the bus. "Find a seat, Akuma-san. Just try not to cause too much trouble." His voice held a hint of contemptment, a silent acknowledgment of your unpredictable nature. There was a flicker of suspicion in his eyes, a single beat where his gaze narrowed slightly before smoothing back to normal.

It was subtle, but it didn't escape you.

You mentally noted to be cautious around the tired-looking teacher. He might just be the first to catch on to your act. Offering a polite bow, you replied with a sugary-sweet voice, "Of course, Aizawa-sensei. I'll be on my best behavior." Turning away, you began walking down the aisle, a playful smile still plastered on your face.

Internally, however, your smile faltered.

Aizawa's suspicion was a wrinkle in your otherwise perfect plan. You'd need to tread carefully, to maintain your facade of the friendly, eager student while subtly probing for information. This unexpected hurdle only made the challenge more exciting.

A silent thrill coursed through you. You thrived on challenges, and Aizawa's suspicion just added another layer of intrigue to the upcoming trip to U.S.J.

The bus rumbled to life, carrying you and Class 1-A towards their unknown destination. Surprisingly, the atmosphere was subdued. Gone were the throngs of curious classmates eager to bombard you with questions. Instead, a tense silence hung in the air. You suspected Bakugo had something to do with it.

The moment Aizawa dismissed you to find a seat, Bakugo had taken charge, kicking his classmate Jiro out of the seat next to him with a booming "Move it, Earphones!" before gesturing curtly for you to sit. You complied readily, taking note of the simmering tension emanating from the blonde.

The subdued chatter from the rest of the class proved to be a goldmine of information. You listened intently as they discussed their Quirks, their hopes, and their anxieties. It was like eavesdropping on a live episode of a hero reality show, and you were enthralled. Right now, the group was discussing each other's Quirks.

"...Bakugo's always angry, so he'll never be that popular."

Bakugo tensed visibly, his grip tightening on the armrest, a low growl rumbling from his chest. Before he could even take time to a moment to seethe and take up for himself, another voice cut through the tension. It was the boy you remembered rescuing at the physical entrance exam—Kaminari. "Y'know, we basically just met you and haven't known each other that long. So it's amazing that everyone already knows his personality is crap steeped in sewage."

Bakugo's entire body seemed to vibrate with rage. The smell of caramel, a telltale sign of his Quirk activating, grew stronger. Veins bulged on his neck, and his crimson eyes burned with fury. "What's with that vocabulary, bastard?! I'll kill you!"

Tuning out the ensuing argument, you found your gaze drifting across the bus. Your eyes met familiar ones—black sclerae framing bright yellow irises.

It was the pink girl from the U.A. entrance exam.

A smirk played on your lips as you recalled how easily you'd flustered her. A simple brush of your finger against her cheek had sent her brain into a delightful overload, causing her to screech and flee.

Catching your gaze, her already pink cheeks flushed an even darker, vibrant pink. She bounced nervously in her seat, clearly battling an internal struggle of wanting to talk to you. You accentuated the invitation with a playful smile, tilting your head slightly.

That was all it took.

In a flash of pink lightning, she was hurtling towards you. She squeezed between you and Bakugo, effectively shoving the blonde further into the window and creating a comfortable space for her. Bakugo let out an enraged bark, "Mina!" but she completely ignored him.

Mina practically vibrated with excitement as she stared up at you. "Hi!" she chirped, her grin so bright it could rival the sun. "I'm Ashido Mina, but you can call me Mina!"

Bubbling over with enthusiasm, she launched into a tirade about Bakugo. "He's so mean!" she declared, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Always keeping you all to himself, acting all mysterious. What gives, right?"

For the next ten minutes, Mina became a human hurricane of questions and chatter. Every topic seemed to revolve around you, a whirlwind of curiosity about your life, your connection to Bakugo, and everything in between.

Just as she leaned, her voice filled with curiosity, "So, what's your Quirk?" a hush fell over the bus. Even those who had seemingly been engrossed in their own conversations suddenly perked up, their ears straining to catch your response.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Midoriya, quickly fumbling to pull out his phone. You knew exactly what he was doing—taking notes on your Quirk, weaknesses, anything you might reveal.

After all, throughout your middle school years, you'd kept your Quirk a closely guarded secret. The only one privy to its true nature was Bakugo. But Midoriya, with his analytical mind, probably believed it must be powerful enough to earn Bakugo's begrudging respect.

Bakugo, barked at Mina. "Mind your damn business, Pinky!" His voice crackling with irritation that anyone would dare try to get closer to you.

"It's alright, Bakugo," you said in a sugary-sweet tone. "A little curiosity never hurt anyone, right?" A pointed look in his direction effectively silenced any further protests.

Turning back to Mina, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes, you leaned in conspiratorially. Your voice dropped to a whisper, sending shivers down the girl's spine. "Well,I can't exactly tell you everything. After all, our classes are a bit... competitive, wouldn't you say?" you purred, leaving the implication hanging heavy in the air. "But what I will say is that it's very mind-blowing."

Just as you finished your cryptic sentence, the bus lurched to a halt. Aizawa's tired voice echoed through the bus. "Alright, everyone out. Time for your little observation session at U.S.J." The bus doors hissed open, revealing a sprawling complex bathed in the warm afternoon sun.

The spell was broken. The students, momentarily captivated by your words, scrambled out of their seats, their curiosity momentarily forgotten in the face of the unknown that awaited them.

"Hello, everyone! I've been waiting for you!" A voice suddenly boomed as you all were exiting the bus.

Looking over, you spot a towering figure clad in a spacesuit-inspired hero costume, bouncing over with an enthusiasm that rivaled a sugar high.

A familiar voice piped up from beside you. "It's the Space Hero, Thirteen! The chivalrous pro who's rescued a ton of people from disasters across the world!" Izuku practically vibrated with excitement.

"Woo-hoo! Thirteen is so awesome! She's one of my favorite heroes!" Uraraka, a girl with a brown bob and pink round circles on her cheeks chime in, pumping her fist in the air.

Thirteen, used to the fanatic excitement, gestured grandly towards the building behind them. "I can't wait to show you what's inside!"

The students erupted in a chorus of awes and excited chatter. You, however, remained detached, observing the scene with a practiced cool. This "training facility" felt more like a glorified amusement park.

Inside, the building was a kaleidoscope of zones—a shipwreck, a landslide, a fire simulation—all meticulously crafted to resemble real-world disaster scenarios. A collective gasp rippled through the group as they took it all in.

"Holy smokes! It looks like some kind of amusement park!" Kirishima, a redheaded boy with a rather impressive physique for you guys age, pointed at the complex with wide eyes; his muscles straining against his hero uniform.

"A shipwreck," Thirteen boomed, "a landslide, a fire, a windstorm... and so on! I created this training facility to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters. I call it the Unforseen Simulation Joint, or USJ for short!"

A few students muttered comparisons to Universal Studios Japan under their breath. You smirked, unsurprised by the uninspired name.

As Thirteen continued her introductory speech, Aizawa sauntered in, his usual stoic expression etched on his face. He stopped beside Thirteen, a brief conversation passing between them that only served to deepen the furrow on his brow.

As the two adults talked, a smart part of you wanted to eavesdrops and see what it was, but ultimately decided against it; it's not like you'll actually learn something from it.

"That man is the height of irresponsibility," Aizawa sighed, shaking his head before glancing back at the students. "The clock's ticking. We should get started." He moved aside, clearing the way for Thirteen's grand demonstration.

Thirteen raised a hand, her voice booming once more. "Excellent! Before we begin, let me just say one thing... well, maybe two things. Possibly three, four, or..." she trailed off, earning a collective sweatdrop from the student body.

As Thirteen expounded on the power and potential dangers of their quirks, emphasizing the importance of responsible quirk usage and the true essence of heroism, you found yourself stifling a yawn as your mind wandered.

Yes, quirks could be used for destruction as well as heroism, it's practically common sense, yet here you all were.

Honestly, with so many rules put in place, you couldn't help but feel like being a villain seemed like a much less tedious career choice.

Just as Thirteen finished her speech with a dramatic bow, a sudden plunge into darkness sent shivers down everyone's spine.

A dark purple mist-like portal materialized in the center of the plaza, the swirling vortex pulsating with an unnatural light. Then, figures began to emerge, their forms obscured by the shadows cast by the portal.

A collective gasp rippled through the group of students. Confusion morphed into fear as the students buzzed with questions. Kirishima leaned forward, peering curiously at the portal. "Woah, what is that thing? Some surprise training exercise? High-tech villain simulation?" he asked. "Wait, has the training started already?"

Villains?

The word echoed in your head, a foreign concept whispered in hushed tones but never truly experienced.

Ever since you woke up in this quirk-infested world, heroes were all you'd ever known. Sure, you'd seen countless reports of villains being apprehended and brought to justice, dramatic displays of power broadcasted on every news channel. But to see them here, in person, was an entirely different experience.

Your mind raced, sifting through the possibilities. A villain attack during a training exercise? Either a brilliant diversion or an incredibly reckless gamble.

Aizawa's eyes widened as the portal began to spew forth figures clad in villainous attire. "Stay back and together! Don't move!" he barked, his voice tight with urgency as he yanked on his goggles, his gaze hardening as it landed on the approaching villains. "Thirteen! Protect the students!"

Aizawa's pronouncement hung heavy in the air, shattering the atmosphere like a dropped glass.

Your focus shifted to the pro-hero. His reaction confirmed your suspicions—this was no simulation. These were real villains, a fact driven home by Aizawa's harsh glare directed at the figures emerging from the portal.

These were the outcasts, the rule breakers—the very antithesis of the heroes you'd grown accustomed to observing.

A thrill, a subtle current of excitement, snaked its way through you. This wasn't part of the plan. This was chaos, a disruption to the established order—a wrinkle thrown into the carefully constructed tapestry of your "observation session."

The portal began shrinking as all the villains—except two—spread out to the different zones. One was a large, hulking, muscular figure with skin like polished onyx, etched with a roadmap of jagged scars and an exposed brain. The other, a lanky figure with grayish-blue hair, covered in dry patches and old scars marring his pale skin; fourteen embalmed hands were strategically placed to cling to his body.

The mist-portal soon coalesced into a head with two glowing gold eyes. "Thirteen... and Eraser Head, huh? The teacher's schedule we received the other day...said that All Might was also supposed to be here." The mist spoke, a hint of amusement in his raspy voice.

A nervous tremor ran through the crowd. Your gaze, usually veiled with practiced indifference, sharpened as it flickered between the approaching villains and the faces of the students of 1-A, now etched with a mixture of fear and confusion. You subtly observed the students, gauging their reactions.

You couldn't help but smirk internally. This unexpected turn of events was far more interesting than any pre-planned exercise.

A genuine villain attack would provide a much clearer picture of Class 1-A's strengths, weaknesses, and most importantly, how they worked together under pressure.

This was exactly the kind of chaos you thrived in.

***le gasp, villians!?

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 03 Chapter 03 | rising resentment⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Sleep, usually a welcome escape from the confines of your routine, offered no solace tonight. Instead, a vivid dreamscape unfolded before you.

Golden light bathed a field of crimson flowers; their petals stained a shade of red that seemed to bleed into the very air.

In the distance, a young girl, no older than eighteen, stood amidst the flowers. The white long-sleeved shirt, hung untucked; her black jacket lay discarded on the ground like a fallen feather, forgotten. Her hair, a cascade of long pale auburn, defied its usual confinement; bangs, usually kept just past her eyebrows, now clung in wispy tendrils to her forehead, framing her face alongside two longer, rebellious side strands.

This fiery mane mirrored the moonlight filtering through the clouds, but it was her eyes that held your attention—crimson orbs with pulsing yellow irises that burned with an intensity that both terrified and fascinated you.

This girl, she looked... familiar.

A prickling sensation crawled up your arms as a name, foreign yet strangely comforting, whispered on the wind. "Makima," it murmured, a single word carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken memories.

The girl turned, her crimson gaze locking onto yours. A ghost of a smile played on her lips, a smile that sent shivers down your spine.

In that moment, you knew, with a certainty that defied logic, that this girl, this Makima, was somehow a part of you.

But before you could reach out, before you could ask the questions burning in your mind, the scene dissolved into a swirling vortex of colors. You woke with the taste of fear lingering on your tongue. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting long shadows across your room.

The dream felt real, more real than anything you had ever experienced. Makima, the girl in the flower field, who was she? And how was she connected to you? These questions gnawed at you like a constant itch that you couldn't scratch.

The influx of dreams was just the first in a string of unsettling occurrences. Sometimes, visions—vivid and disorienting—would occasionally pierce the veil of your new life. One moment, you'd be staring at the pink wallpaper of your room, and the next, you'd be transported to a dimly lit office, the scent of cigarettes clinging to the air.

A tall, blonde-haired man with a dopey grin sat across from you, his eyes following your every move with an almost canine devotion.

"Denji~" you'd hear your voice purr, a voice that sent shivers down your own spine, so different from the small, hesitant tones of Y/N. "Tell me again, what's your dream?"

Denji would lean in, his entire being focused on your words. "My dream... is to... touch a nice lady's boobs..." he'd stammer, his face flushed.

A cruel smile would play on your lips, a stark contrast to the innocent smile of Y/N. "How quaint," you'd murmur, a dangerous glint in your eyes. "But for now, Denji, you have a purpose. And that purpose is to serve me."

The vision would then abruptly shatter, leaving you gasping for breath, a cold sweat clinging to your skin. These fragments of your past life were terrifying, yet strangely alluring. Who was this woman you saw in the mirror? Was she truly you?

☆

☆

You bounced on the balls of your feet, excitement buzzing through you like a beehive. Today was "dress-up day" at your homeschool session with Mei, and you had meticulously planned your outfit—a superhero ensemble complete with a flowing cape and a mask you'd meticulously crafted from construction paper.

Mei, however, seemed to have different ideas. As you proudly presented yourself, a triumphant grin plastered on your face, her smile faltered slightly.

"That looks fantastic, Y/N!" she exclaimed, her voice warm but laced with a hint of hesitation. "But wouldn't you like to add a little something extra? Maybe a cute bow to match your cape?"

Your grin faltered. A bow? In your hair? That wasn't part of the plan. The image you envisioned—a fearless hero ready to take on the world—did not involve a frilly accessory. A spark of defiance ignited within you, a heat that crept up your cheeks.

"No, thank you," you mumbled, pushing a twist of hair behind your ear, a silent rebellion against the proposed bow.

Mei knelt before you, her eyes filled with a gentle concern that only fueled your burgeoning frustration. "But a bow would look so pretty, Y/N. Don't you want to look your best for your friends?" she cooed, attempting to tie a bright pink bow atop your head.

The word "friends" did little to appease you. These weren't friends, not in the way you saw it on television. These were just the other homeschooled kids you occasionally interacted with, their interactions more polite curiosity than genuine camaraderie. You didn't need a bow to impress them.

You swatted her hand away, a frown creasing your brow. "No bow," you muttered, your voice firm despite the childish tremor. "I look perfect already." The hero in your mind wouldn't wear a bow, and neither would you.

Mei sighed, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. "Alright, alright," she conceded, shoulders slumping in defeat, untying the bow with a practiced ease. "If you say so. But promise to be careful with your cape today, okay? And maybe, how about we pick a different color tomorrow? Together?"

You didn't respond, but the tightness in your chest eased slightly. You didn't mean to upset Mei, but the need to control your own image, once a constant companion, was becoming a simmering ember within you.

As you marched out the door, cape billowing dramatically behind you, you couldn't help but notice a strange warmth emanating from your fingertips, a faint tingling sensation that seemed to pulse in time with your determined steps.

It was a feeling you didn't understand, but it was a feeling of... power. And even though you didn't quite grasp it yet, it was a feeling you were starting to crave.

☆

☆

The instance with the bow wasn't an isolated one. The more Mei fussed over you, the more you bristled at her smothering affection. You craved a sense of independence, a chance to prove you weren't some fragile doll that needed constant care. This morning was no different.

"Look, I understand you're busy, but Y/N is growing up so fast. These are moments we can't get back. Can't you at least try to..." Mei, fuming from a heated phone call with your father about his constant absence and missed milestones, plunked a plate of lunch down in front of you. A simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich—your least favorite. But you barely registered the disappointment.

Your mind was fixated on the promised reward—a slice of your favorite strawberry cake—for cleaning up your toys and taking an unplanned nap while Mei ran a quick errand.

You nibbled on the sandwich, the disappointment a dull ache in your stomach. Surely, Mei had forgotten. She'd remember when you finished your lunch, and you'd get your reward then. But with every bite, the ache intensified, transforming into a simmering resentment.

Ten minutes ticked by, the silence in the room broken only by the rhythmic squeaking of your half-eaten sandwich. Finally, Mei, still on the phone and arguing with your father, glanced your way. Her brow furrowed with concern as she noticed your unmoving form.

"Y/N? Sweetie, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice strained as she balanced the phone on her shoulder. She wiped a stray smear of jelly from your cheek, her touch well-meaning but unwelcome. "Does your tummy hurt? Did the sandwich go down the wrong way? Do you want Mommy to—"

You cut through her worried questions, your voice flat and emotionless. "Where's my treat?"

Mei blinked, momentarily thrown off guard. Then, a wave of relief washed over her face. "Oh, right! Your treat!" she exclaimed, a touch too brightly. "Just give me a sec, okay?"

She scurried to the pantry, the phone still pressed to her ear. You listened to the muffled sounds of rummaging, your heart pounding a steady rhythm against your ribs. This wasn't right. You'd held up your end of the bargain, and now, Mei was backtracking.

A beat of silence followed, then Mei reappeared, her smile strained. "Looks like we're all out of strawberry cake, sweetie," she explained apologetically. "But I found some apple slices instead! How about that?"

You stared at the proffered apple slices, a wave of anger crashing over you. This wasn't fair. You didn't want apple slices. You wanted the promised cake, the sweet reward you'd earned.

Logic, that annoying voice in your head, tried to reason with you. Mei had forgotten. It was a simple mistake. But the anger drowned it out. You felt cheated, robbed of something you deserved.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them back, the heat of anger burning brighter than the sting of betrayal. A low growl rumbled in your chest, a sound that startled even yourself. Your body began to vibrate, a tremor you couldn't control. It felt like a live wire buzzing beneath your skin, a foreign energy coursing through you.

Shaking uncontrollably, the hot warmth of anger intensified in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, a strangled cry escaping your lips as you lashed out.

"I...want...CAKE!!" With a deafening screech, you flung your remaining sandwich across the room, the splattering jelly mimicking the blossoming rage within you. Your juice box followed suit, toppling off the table and showering the floor in a sticky red cascade.

"I want my cake!"

"Y/N!" Mei's voice, usually filled with warmth, cracked with a mixture of shock and concern. The phone clattered to the floor, forgotten as she lunged for you.

For a terrifying moment, you felt invincible, a force of pure, unbridled rage. The world seemed to blur around you, the only thing registering the pulsing energy thrumming through your veins.

Then, strong arms enveloped you. Mei's voice, usually a soothing melody, cut through the haze of anger. "Stop! It's okay, sweetie!" she cried, her voice a desperate plea as she tried to restrain your thrashing limbs. But for a moment, you were a wild animal cornered, fueled by an anger you couldn't understand.

"Cake!" you screamed, your voice raw with frustration. "You promised cake!"

Mei's eyes welled up with tears, a reflection of your own mounting hysteria. "I know, honey, I know," she soothed, her voice trembling slightly.

Finally, with a herculean effort, Mei managed to pin you down, her warm hands cupping your face. She spoke softly, her voice a soothing balm against the storm within you. "It's okay, Y/N," she murmured, wiping away the stray tears that had finally escaped.

The tremors soon subsided, replaced by a deep sense of exhaustion. Mei began to rub your cheeks in soothing circles, her touch a grounding force against the storm that had just raged within you. "It's okay to be upset. But we can't throw things."

Mei then sat you down in the "cool-down" corner, a designated space in the living room reserved for such meltdowns. As you sat there, slumped against the cushions, you watched the world blur through tear-filled eyes. A wave of nausea washed over you, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

You glanced out the window, your gaze falling on a group of children leaving daycare, their laughter echoing in the afternoon sun. They walked hand-in-hand with their parents, a picture of carefree joy. A scowl contorted your face.

You hated that they seemed so happy, so carefree. Everything about them—their freedom, their smiles, the way things just seemed to go their way—fueled the embers of resentment that still flickered within you.

But this time, alongside the anger, there was a new sensation. A strange tingling energy crackled beneath your skin, a faint echo of the power you'd felt just moments ago. 

And in the quiet of the "cool-down" corner, a seed was planted. What it will be, you didn't know, but you had a feeling that it would be undeniably... different.

***okay, suprise update! just wanted to let you guys know that my laptop has been  utterly destroyed and is now being repaired 💀 so yeaahhh. anywho, thank you all for the support so far, hehehe didnt think anyone would be excited, lol. also, this won't be perfect and will likely have a few plot holes, but then again, i'm not here to write a real book, i'm here to share my delusions with yall 💗

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 02 Chapter 02 | glowing defiance⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Your life was a carefully constructed bubble, meticulously crafted by your ever-anxious mother, Mei. Unlike other children your age, you didn't attend daycare or school.

The outside world, with its potential dangers and lurking germs, was deemed too much for your mother's fragile peace of mind.

Instead, your days revolved around a routine as predictable as the sunrise.

Mornings began with a meticulously planned breakfast, followed by lessons conducted by Mei herself. As a former high school teacher, she poured all her energy into your homeschooling, bombarding you with colorful flashcards and meticulously constructed schedules.

While other children learned through messy playdates and scraped knees, your world was confined to the walls of your apartment, safe but undeniably stifling.

Wino remained a distant figure in all this, keeping his interactions with you brief and impersonal. Sometimes, you'd catch him stealing a glance your way—a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he quickly retreated behind a curtain of newspaper.

Despite, or perhaps because of, your sheltered life, a fierce independence bloomed within you. You devoured the lessons Mei presented, your mind a sponge soaking up knowledge. You craved understanding, a way to make sense of the world beyond the four walls of your home.

One afternoon, as you were diligently building a tower with colorful blocks, the sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on your focused face.

The air was thick with the aroma of baking cookies, courtesy of Mei, who was humming cheerfully in the kitchen.

Suddenly, the gentle hum was replaced by the familiar blaring voice of a cartoon announcer on the television.

You glanced up, the frown furrowing your brow mirroring the one now etched on the face of the overly enthusiastic cartoon hero plastered across the television screen.

The hero, clad in a flamboyant costume that seemed more of a hindrance than a help, was pummeling a villain whose entire power seemed to be an unfortunate case of bad hair.

"And that, my friends," the announcer boomed, his voice dripping with condescension, "is how a proper hero uses their Quirk! Now, let's talk about those unfortunate souls who weren't blessed with such amazing abilities."

A familiar heat pooled in your chest, a simmering resentment fueled by the announcer's patronizing tone.You weren't 'unfortunate'—you were Y/N.

And you wouldn't be belittled like some charity case.

The announcer, completely oblivious to your internal dilemma, continued his spiel. "Being Quirkless doesn't mean you can't contribute to society," he chirped, his voice laced with a saccharine sweetness that made your teeth itch.

You rolled your eyes, grumbling under your breath, "Yeah, contribute by being a glorified dog walker."

You spent the next few moments trying to drown out the annoying voice, focusing on meticulously placing the final block atop your ever-growing castle.

You stacked them with an almost obsessive focus, each piece a silent rebuttal to the announcer's words. But you couldn't drown him out forever.

"And remember, kids," the announcer declared, his voice adopting a sinister edge, "if you're Quirkless, no point in attempting to do the impossible. You're better off understanding your role as a citizen in society. Don't become a burden!"

Slowly, you raised your head; your eyes narrowed to pinpoints as the last line echoed in your head.

Burden? A scowl thundered across your face, erasing any trace of childish amusement. A low growl, more animalistic than human, rumbled from your chest.

Everything went silent around you, the only sound being the frantic drumming of your heart.

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes once again began to glow an unsettling yellow.

A blinding flash of static suddenly erupted from the television, scrambling the image on the screen into a distorted mess. You were so engrossed in glaring at the screen—your mind running miles a minute with internal arguments about how you weren't average and wouldn't be belittled—that you didn't notice your mother rushing in.

The static intensified, morphing into a horrifying, demonic screech that sent shivers down your spine. The air crackled with unseen energy, and the hairs on your arms stood on end.

Suddenly, with a deafening pop, the television went completely black. The room plunged into an eerie silence, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You blinked, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

Slowly, you turned your head to find Mei standing frozen in the doorway, her face etched with a mixture of concern and confusion.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy. Mei, finally breaking free from her shock, ventured towards the lifeless television.

"Well, I guess that means it's time for an upgrade?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as much a question to herself as to you.

☆

☆

Warm bubbles tickled your skin as you leaned back in the tub, tilting your head to allow Mei to lather your hair with shampoo. Her gentle hands worked the suds in, a soft smile lighting her face.

"You're unbelievable, sweetie~ You managed to finish all the multiplication flash cards in record time!" she chirped, her voice tinged with a touch of awe. "Honestly, Y/N, you're learning so fast, I'll have to find some more challenging material soon!"

Her praises usually fill you with a sense of accomplishment, a validation of your efforts. Today, however, it triggered a different thought.

She was right...you weren't like the other children—like the ones in the grainy television shows you occasionally glimpsed at or the ones you saw playing from your window.

They were carefree, giggling as they chased each other down the street, their quirks a vibrant kaleidoscope of color and powers.

Mei continued, blissfully unaware of your internal turmoil. "Maybe we could even tackle some basic science concepts next! Wouldn't that be exciting?"

Exciting wasn't the word you'd use to describe your current mood.

You tilted your head back, allowing Mei to rinse out the soap. As the cool water cascaded down your face, you squeezed your eyes shut, picturing those same children once again.

You weren't like them.

They interacted with ease; their world filled with laughter and adventure.

You, on the other hand, were a mystery, even to yourself. The yellow glow in your eyes, the distorted television, the demonic screech—these weren't normal occurrences.

A shiver ran down your spine, but it wasn't entirely from the cool water rinsing down your face. A chilling realization settled in—the world you inhabited felt small and stifling.

A question, heavy with unspoken fear and a strange, exhilarating thrill, began to form in your mind: What exactly were you?

***ok, i swear this is the last update. I just couldn't wait ❤️❤️ see you guys soon

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 08 Chapter 08 | conditioning the flame⌟

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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The pre-dawn sky bled a pale orange over the ragged silhouettes of trees in the abandoned park. A cool mist clung to the ground, swirling around your feet as you finished a series of stretches.

Opposite you stood Bakugo, his explosive blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His ragged breaths echoed in the stillness, punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of his heart.

The previous hour had been relentless. You'd pushed him through a gauntlet of sprints through the woods, dodging fallen logs and leaping over rocky outcrops.

Now, you were sparring, your movements a blur as you danced around his explosive attacks.

A well-placed side-step brought you behind him, and you delivered a sharp kick to his back, sending him staggering forward. He stumbled, catching himself on a groan-worthy grunt. You stood tall, arms crossed, a critical look on your face.

"Faster than last week," you conceded, your voice devoid of praise. "But it's not enough." You crouched low, reaching up to brush a few damp strands of hair from his forehead.

Bakugo, leaned into your touch reflexively, exhaustion momentarily eclipsing his usual defiance. He grunted in response, a single, guttural sound that spoke volumes of his determination.

The start of a long summer of grueling training had begun—another step on the path you'd meticulously crafted for him. He was your pawn, yes, but a powerful one nonetheless.

You smirked, the feeling hidden beneath your neutral expression. This relentless drive, this insatiable hunger for power—you had nurtured it, fueled it. He may have thought he was training to become a hero, but you were shaping him into something far more... valuable.

And when the game truly began, you'd be the one pulling the strings.

You rose, pulling back your hand. "Push harder," you murmured, your voice soft but laced with an underlying challenge. "The entrance exam won't wait for you to catch your breath."

A spark ignited in Bakugo's red eyes, mirroring the glint of ambition in your own. He straightened, his stance unwavering despite his fatigue. "I don't need your pity," he snarled, his voice hoarse but firm.

You chuckled, a low, chilling sound. "Pity? This," you gestured around at the desolate landscape bathed in the faint light of dawn, "is opportunity. Seize it. Show them all what you're truly capable of."

The fiery spirit you'd helped cultivate flickered back to life in his eyes. Though his body screamed for rest, his pride wouldn't allow him to yield. "I said. I don't need your pity," he snarled, his voice hoarse but firm. A vein pulsed in his temple, a testament to his simmering frustration and unwavering resolve.

You weren't surprised by his defiance. In fact, it fueled your hidden agenda. A sly smile played on your lips, hidden beneath your neutral expression. "Suit yourself," you said, your voice flat. "But remember, U.A. won't accept weakness."

With that, you allowed him a few precious seconds of reprieve, letting him savor the fleeting comfort of lying sprawled on the cool grass. Just as he started to sink into a semblance of rest, you clapped your hands once, the sharp sound echoing through the silent woods. "Alright, that's enough rest," you declared, your voice leaving no room for argument.

Before he could protest, you sprang forward with surprising agility and landed crouched on his back. The sudden weight jolted him, and a surprised grunt escaped his lips. He twisted his head to glare at you, but you simply grinned, your eyes gleaming with an almost predatory glint.

"Time for push-ups," you announced, your voice laced with a playful challenge. "Fifty, and make them count."

Bakugo's jaw clenched, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. He hated the way you manipulated him, the way you pushed him to his limits under the guise of friendly competition. But deep down, a twisted sense of gratitude simmered.

You were the only one who truly understood his relentless drive, the only one who pushed him to become stronger.

With a frustrated groan, he began the push-ups. His muscles screamed in protest, his arms shaking with fatigue. But he wouldn't give in, not in front of you.

One by one, he knocked out the push-ups, his teeth gritted tight in determination.

You counted silently, your gaze fixed on the rippling muscles beneath you. Each push-up was a testament to his strength, his potential. And you, the puppeteer in the shadows, would ensure he reached his full potential—on your terms.

☆

☆

The relentless sun dipped towards the horizon, painting the desolate park in warm hues of orange and red. The air hung heavy with the sounds of exhaustion. Bakugo, sprawled on the grass, gulped down water from his bottle, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, the remnants of your grueling training session clinging to him like a second skin.

Across from him, you leaned casually against a gnarled tree trunk, a stark contrast to his state. A light sheen glistened on your brow, a testament to the exertion, but nowhere near the fatigue gripping Bakugo.

The skills you honed in your past life as Makima, slowly bleeding into this one, granted you an exceptional level of physical prowess. You were a master combatant, adept at hand-to-hand combat without relying on weapons or pawns.

Bakugo watched you from beneath hooded eyelids, his gaze lingering on your profile. An unfamiliar heat bloomed in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

Infatuation.

The word hung heavy in the unspoken space between you, a bizarre notion considering the constant verbal sparring and grueling training sessions you subjected him to. Yet, there you were, somehow occupying every corner of his mind. He frowned, a bewildered scowl twisting his features.

It was illogical, this strange pull towards you.

Unaware of the turmoil brewing within him, you were already strategizing for the upcoming week. Thoughts of new training regimens, targeted exercises, and grueling challenges danced in your mind.

You needed him to be honed to perfection, a weapon waiting to be unleashed on the world.

As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, plunging the park into twilight, you finally met his gaze. A cold glint flickered in your eyes, a stark contrast to the concern you so often feigned. "Ready for round two tomorrow?" you asked, your voice a low murmur that sent shivers down his spine.

He met your gaze with a defiant snarl, the remnants of his earlier admiration replaced by his usual fiery spirit. "Always," he growled, the words laced with a challenge that masked the strange flutter in his chest.

Standing up, you brushed imaginary dust off your clothes, ready to head home. "Alright then, be here at exactly 5:30 AM sharp," you declared, already turning to leave.

Just as you were about to take a step forward, a hesitant voice stopped you. "Hey," Bakugo mumbled, the word barely audible. He looked away, avoiding eye contact, a rare display of bashfulness from the usually explosive boy.

You paused, raising an eyebrow in question. "Yes?" you called out, turning your head to face him.

He remained stubbornly focused on the ground, kicking at a pebble with a scuffed shoe. Finally, he muttered out, "How come you aren't applying to U.A.? We both know you're more than strong enough to make it."

His words caught you off guard for a moment. A flicker of surprise crossed your features before you quickly schooled your expression. You took in his question, the concern laced beneath the bluster. Was he... worried about you?

A slow smirk played on your lips, a sly glint in your yellow eyes that seemed to catch the dying light of the sun. "Kacchan~" you purred, your voice dripping with a sweetness that sent a shiver down his spine. You sauntered back towards him, each step deliberate and calculated. "Are you asking me to accompany you to the prestigious, U.A. high?"

He flinched slightly at the nickname, his face burning a fiery red that rivaled the fading sunset. "Whatever," he scoffed, turning his head away in a vain attempt to hide his blush. "Do what you want, it was just a suggestion."

You stopped right in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his flushed skin. You tilted your head, batting your eyelashes at him in a way that would seem innocent to anyone else. But for Bakugo, who knew the depths of your power, it was a blatant display of manipulation.

"Well, truthfully, I wasn't planning on attending UA. Too much work, you know," you drawled, your voice a husky whisper. You trailed a hand up his chest, your touch sending a jolt through him. Reaching his chin, you gently tilted his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze. "But since you're such a good puppy," you continued, your voice smooth as silk, "I guess I can come."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You weren't just considering U.A.—you were doing it for him.

A strange mix of emotions flickered across Bakugo's face: surprise, a hint of something akin to gratitude, and a flicker of... possessiveness? He opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out.

The silence stretched for a beat. Bakugo seemed frozen, caught between the flustered blush creeping up his neck and the urge to lash out with a defiant snarl. His mind, usually a whirlwind of explosive pronouncements, seemed to have malfunctioned under your touch and the unexpected turn of events.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a scowl etched its way back onto his face. It was a weak attempt at regaining control, a facade that crumbled under scrutiny. He weakly moved his face away from your hold, the blush reaching the tips of his fiery red ears. "'M not a puppy," he mumbled, the defiance in his voice barely a whisper.

But even through the scowl and the mumbled denial, you could see a flicker of relief dancing in his crimson eyes. The confirmation that you'd attend U.A. with him, a decision you'd framed as a favor to him, seemed to ease a tension you hadn't even realized existed.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, the sound laced with amusement. You knew exactly how to manipulate him, how to exploit his volatile emotions to get what you wanted. But for now, you were content to let him bask in the illusion of control.

"Alright, alright, Katsuki," you said, your voice playful. You reached out and ruffled his hair with a gentle touch, a gesture that would have sent shivers down anyone else's spine. For Bakugo, though, it was a confusing mix of irritation and a strange sense of... comfort?

"We'll head to U.A. together then," you continued, your voice a smooth purr. "Just you, me, and the rest of those wannabe heroes."

☆

☆

The rhythmic scrape of cutlery against ceramic plates filled the air, the only sound breaking the tense silence that had settled over the dinner table. It was a rare night that your father managed to escape the clutches of work and share a meal with the family. Your mother had gone all out, preparing his favorite meatloaf.

Despite her best efforts to spark conversation, the dinner table remained an island of awkwardness. Wino devoured his food in silence, his usual gruff demeanor amplified by fatigue. You picked at your own plate, lost in your thoughts.

The grueling morning workout with Bakugo still left a pleasant ache in your muscles, a stark contrast to the dull ache of boredom gnawing at your soul.

Deciding to take pity on your mother, you cleared your throat. "Hey," you announced, "I decided to I'm going to U.A."

A wave of relief washed over Mei's face, her eyes widening with delight. A bright smile bloomed on her lips, instantly chasing away the gloom that had settled earlier. "Oh, sweetie! That's wonderful news!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes as she reached across the table to squeeze your hand. "I'm so proud of you!"

Turning to your father, she beamed expectantly. "Wino! Aren't you going to congratulate your daughter?"

Wino, however, remained unmoved. He paused in mid-chew, raising his head from his plate to meet your gaze. For a tense few seconds, your eyes, a startling yellow, locked with his bright green ones. A storm of unspoken emotions crackled in the air.

Finally, Wino spoke, his voice devoid of warmth. "How could I?" he said, his tone flat. "The kid's never shown any interest in being a hero before. What changed now?"

Your mother gasped, a look of hurt flickering across her face. "Wino!" she scolded, launching into a familiar tirade about the importance of encouragement and how negativity could shatter confidence.

You tuned out her rant, already anticipating your father's response. He wasn't lying. You had never harbored any real desire to be a hero.

The hero business, with its constant scrutiny and fickle public opinion, held no appeal. The childhood days of dressing up as heroes were long gone, replaced by the harsh realities of your true nature.

But then you remembered the glint in Bakugo's eyes when you'd mentioned attending U.A. A warmth spread through your chest, a subtle change brought on by your peculiar connection to the explosive boy.

You weren't averse to indulging your "puppy's" wishes from time to time.

Besides, you mused, spearing a piece of meatloaf, who knew? Maybe U.A. would be a welcome distraction, a chance to shake off the boredom that had become a constant companion.

A slow smirk played on your lips. This unexpected turn of events might just prove to be entertaining.

***WHO READY TO GET TO THE MAIN STORYLINE AND COLLECT A HAREM OF SIMPS!?!

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 07 Chapter 07 | the devil's game⌟

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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The weight of Bakugo's cryptic messages hung heavy as you approached his house.

The quiet suburban street was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows that stretched like grasping fingers across the sidewalk.

Reaching the Bakugo residence, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you within. With a firm rhythm, you knocked on the front door.

A tense silence stretched on for a beat too long before the door creaked open a sliver, revealing a man who looked far from his usual composed self. Presumably Bakugo's father, a middle-aged man of average height and build, stood before you.

His short brown hair, similar in style to his son, was mussed and unkempt.

A short mustache adorned his upper lip, and rectangular glasses perched on his nose, their lenses reflecting the dying sunlight.

Surprise etched itself onto his face, quickly replaced by a flicker of warmth that ignited in his worried eyes. He stammered, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension, "Ah, hello...who might you be...?"

With a polite bow, you introduced yourself. "I'm Y/N, a classmate of Bakugo's," you said, your voice carrying a practiced friendliness. "Actually, I brought him some homework notes and wanted to check in since he missed our tutoring session today." The fabricated tutoring session rolled effortlessly off your tongue, a believable excuse you'd concocted on the walk over.

Thankfully, today fell on a Wednesday, a night Bakugo usually spent glued to the arcade games.

Bakugo's father's hesitant expression betrayed his initial surprise. His rumpled clothes and drawn face hinted at a deeper concern, one he seemed reluctant to voice. "Uh, yeah, about that..." he mumbled, trailing off.

You pressed on, your voice laced with genuine concern. "I'm very worried about Katsuki," you said softly. "It's not like him to miss a session, especially without letting me know."

The use of Bakugo's first name seemed to catch the man off guard. Another flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a hesitant smile. "Right, right," he chuckled nervously, a hint of relief washing over him. "You must be close to him if you use his first name. I'm Masaru, Katsuki's father."

The confirmation of your fabricated story hung in the air for a moment, but Masaru seemed to accept it at face value. The prospect of his son having a close friend, someone genuinely concerned about him, seemed to ease his initial apprehension.

With a sigh, he gestured for you to enter. "Well, come on in then, Y/N."

Stepping through the doorway, you were met with an unexpected darkness. The house, usually well-lit, was plunged into an inky blackness. Masaru fumbled for a light switch, muttering apologies under his breath. "Sorry, sorry about that," he mumbled, his voice strained. "We usually have dinner around now, but..." his explanation trailed off, laced with a heavy weight of unspoken worry.

Concern creased your brow. "Is everything alright, Mr. Bakugo?" you asked gently.

Masaru hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours. It was clear he wasn't eager to relive whatever had transpired.

Seeing his discomfort, you decided to take a more... persuasive approach.

Subtly activating 'Control', you tilted your head slightly and repeated your question, your voice laced with a barely-there murmur, "Tell me what happened."

The effect was instantaneous. Masaru flinched, his eyes locking onto yours with a jolt. He seemed to shrink under your gaze for a moment before deflating, eyes glazing over before releasing a defeated sigh. "It's Katsuki," he confessed, his voice thick with worry. "He... he got attacked by a villain today." Relief washed over him as the words left his lips, a stark contrast to the tension that had coiled in his shoulders.

He launched into a frantic explanation, recounting the details of the attack. Katsuki's bravado, the villain's slimy form, the struggle. Even the arrival of Midoriya, who bravely jumped in to help despite his Quirkless status.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, albeit subtly at this.

"Midoriya, he..." Masaru paused, a tremor running through his voice, oblivious to your silent reaction, "If he hadn't stepped in... I don't know what would've happened to my baby boy..."

As his explanation trailed off, a cacophony of shouts shattered the tense silence. A woman's voice, laced with exasperation, echoed through the house. "I'M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU, YOU LITTLE BRAT!" it shrieked.

A defiant reply, unmistakably Katsuki's, followed in rapid succession. "WELL, I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP, OLD HAG!" he roared. The slam of a door reverberated through the house, punctuated by the heavy thud of footsteps descending the stairs.

A moment later, a figure stormed into the room, the dim light revealing spiky ash-blonde hair and fiery red eyes—a mirror image of Katsuki himself.

She, huffed past you, her short black skirt swishing around her legs. Masaru rushed after her, his voice placating. "M-Mitsuki! It's alright, just calm down a bit!"

You stared, a jolt of recognition jolting through you; the shared crimson eyes, the fiery temper, the woman's strange ability to restrain her son with unseen binds.

This—this was the woman from years ago, the one from the playground, the one who comforted Katsuki the day your powers returned to you.

This was Bakugo's mother.

As a torrent of hushed complaints spilled from her lips to her husband about Bakugo's "bratish behavior," you couldn't help but chime in.

Your voice cut through the tension, soft yet firm. "Excuse me," you said, offering a polite smile. "May I go check on Katsuki? Sounds like he could use a friend right now."

The couple froze, caught off guard by your interruption. Masaru, bless his heart, was the first to recover. He cleared his throat awkwardly, a sheepish grin plastered on his face. "Oh, right, Y/N This is Bakugo's mother, Mitsuki. Mitsuki, this is Katsuki's friend..." he raised his eyebrows comically in your direction to his wife

It was a clear, if not entirely subtle, attempt to reveal her of your importance to their son.

Mitsuki, ever-observant, caught on immediately.

A flicker of understanding crossed her features, morphing into a warm smile as she turned towards you. "Friend? Oh, friend! Ah, you must be Y/N! Katsuki's friend," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle compared to her earlier outburst. "You're more than welcome to try your luck with the brat upstairs." A spiteful scowl tugged at the corner of her lips.

Taking her words in stride, you plastered on your most charming smile and let out a light giggle. "Thank you, Mrs. Bakugo," you said with a polite bow. "I'll do my best." With that, you excused yourself, turning towards the stairs.

Each step creaked under your weight, the silence heavy as you ascended, curiosity and a sliver of trepidation battling for dominance within you as you ascended towards Katsuki's room.

Reaching the landing, you found the door closed, but not locked. With a gentle push, it creaked open, revealing a room shrouded in darkness.

Your eyes adjusted to the gloom, finding Bakugo perched on the edge of his bed. His broad shoulders seemed to curl inwards under your gaze. His head hung low, shrouded in shadow.

You closed the door softly behind you, the click barely audible in the tense silence.

Taking slow, deliberate steps, you approached him, each creak of the floorboards echoing in the stillness.

Coming to a stop a few feet in front of him, you remained silent. Masaru had filled you in on the basics of the attack: the villain, the sludge, the rescue. But you craved Bakugo's perspective, the unfiltered details straight from the source. The silence stretched, heavy and thick.

Finally, you spoke, your voice soft but firm. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

A beat of silence followed your question. Bakugo's broad shoulders seemed to shrink inwards under your gaze. His head dipped even lower, burying his face further in the darkness.

A heavy silence stretched between you, punctuated only by your shallow breaths.

You knew he wouldn't open up easily. So, you repeated the question, this time using your power. "Puppy. What happened?"

Raising his head, Bakugo revealed his eyes, usually vibrant red, were now red-rimmed and glassy. Bakugo's tearful expression vanished, replaced by his usual dazed look. His shoulders slumped again, his defiance replaced by a vacant emptiness.

The monotonous drone of Bakugo's voice then filled the room as he recounted the events of the day. He spoke of the villain's attack, the suffocating sludge, the struggle.

There was no fire in his voice, no usual bravado. Just a chilling emptiness that mirrored the vacant look in his eyes.

He continued his narration, detailing the arrival of Midoriya. When he reached this point, a flicker of something—perhaps annoyance, perhaps something deeper—sparked in his otherwise emotionless eyes. His lips curled into a scowl, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. "Deku," he hissed, the word laced with disdain.

The rest of the story tumbled out, his voice devoid of the usual anger, yet still dripping with contempt whenever his "childhood friend" was mentioned.

As he finished his tale, you couldn't help but let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh.

Feigning concern, you cupped his face gently, your touch light as a feather. "Oh, Puppy~" you cooed, your voice dripping with a sweetness that felt wrong on your tongue. "You poor baby. Sounds like your little hero complex got you into trouble again." Your words were cruel, a stark contrast to the feigned sympathy in your expression.

A twisted sense of amusement bubbled within you.

Here he was, the ever-explosive Bakugo Katsuki, reduced to a puppet, spilling his secrets under your subtle control.

It had been years since you'd first discovered your power—the day on the playground when you'd unwittingly used it on him to test your abilities. Since then, he'd become your unwitting informant, a loyal (albeit clueless) source of information on the budding heroes in training.

No one suspected a thing, not with his volatile personality turning everyone away.

You leaned in closer, your voice barely a whisper. "Maybe," you murmured, your touch lingering on his cheek, "your precious Deku needs to be reminded who the real hero is around here."

The emptiness in his eyes stirred ever so slightly, a flicker of recognition passing through for a moment before vanishing once more. But it was enough—a confirmation that the tendrils of your control remained firmly in place.

A satisfied smirk played on your lips, hidden by the mask of concern. You had everything you needed, all thanks to your loyal, clueless puppet.

The silence stretched for a moment, broken only by your shallow breaths.

Then, a new resolve hardened your gaze. This hero business, this constant struggle for power in the open... it was childish.

You, the Control Devil, would operate in the shadows, manipulating events from behind the scene. A single, chilling chuckle escaped your lips.

"Power," you breathed, the word dripping with dark ambition. "If power is what you want, I'll give it to you. But on my terms."

Your eyes gleamed with a predatory glint, a promise whispered not to Bakugo, but to the world at large.

It was a declaration, the official beginning of a game you had meticulously planned.

A sinister smile played across your lips, a stark contrast to the concern you'd displayed moments before.  Bakugo was just a pawn, a useful tool in your grand scheme.

Power, control—that was the true prize.

***Ah, yes. evil ~Muwahhhhh~ anywho just wanted to give another heads up, i will be SUPER busy this upcoming week due to finals as well as preparing to move back home from dorms. see you guys 💗

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 06 Chapter 06 | smoldering truths⌟

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The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the classroom.

The air hung heavy with the murmur of pre-graduation jitters and whispered dreams of high school.

You, however, remained unmoved. The childish excitement of your classmates was a dull echo in your ears.

A flicker of amusement sparked behind your eyes. They chattered about their Quirks, childish displays of power sparking and popping around the room.

How predictable.

Quirks, the very foundation of this hero society, a system ripe for manipulation.

Ten years.

It's been ten years since you'd woke up in this strange reality—in another world not your own.

A world that, upon closer inspection, held a bitter irony.

Here, Quirks were celebrated, seen as the pinnacle of human evolution.

Yet you, the embodiment of control, the once-feared Makima, were Quirkless—or so it seemed on the surface.

The truth, like a slow-burning ember, had gradually ignited within you.

Memories, fragmented at first, had coalesced into a horrifying clarity.

You weren't some Quirkless anomaly—you were the Control Devil. A powerful entity ripped from your own world and deposited in this one through a freak accident you still couldn't fully grasp.

It's been ten, long years since you'd both discovered and accepted the harsh reality of your situation—there would be no devouring by Chainsaw Man.

No rebirth in a world of blood and battle—of becoming one with Pochita, of a life built on fear and adoration.

That dream, once so vivid and tantalizing, dissipated like smoke...forever out of reach.

The initial wave of despair had been crushing. You wandered through life a ghost blending in with a world that offered you nothing but a gilded cage.

The blonde hair, a cruel reminder of what could have been, became an obsession—a desperate attempt to cling to a shred of the life you craved.

You'd latch onto anyone with that shade of gold, a pale imitation of your lost god.

Bakugo, bless his fiery soul, had been your first victim. You'd use your power, his body a marionette dancing to your will.

As time passed, you still found yourself cupping his face, forcing him to meet your vacant eyes, a single, bored sigh escaping your lips, "If only you had brown eyes..." The confusion and rage contorting his face brought a hollow echo of satisfaction.

A sudden bellow ripped through the classroom, shattering your reverie. Your teacher, a portly man with a perpetually harried expression, stood at the front of the class, exasperated.

"So, since you're all third-years," he droned, his voice laden with weary resignation, "it's time for you to think seriously about your futures."

He reached for a stack of papers, his sigh echoing in the stillness.

"I'll pass out handouts for your future plans now, but..." he trailed off, his eyes scanning the classroom.

A flurry of activity erupted. Lights flickered as students activated their Quirks. One boy's arms contorted into spring-loaded coils, another levitated a stack of textbooks with a strained grunt.

You watched with a detached amusement, the corners of your lips curling into a knowing smile.

"...you're all pretty much planning to go into the hero course, right?" the teacher muttered, his voice drowned out by the excited chatter.

"Yes!" the students roared in unison, a chorus of bravado.

The teacher chuckled defeatedly. "Yes, yes, you all have wonderful Quirks!" He held up a hand, the classroom quieting down slightly. "But using your powers at school is against the rules!"

A collective groan rippled through the room.

You leaned forward, your voice a saccharine whisper that cut through the noise. "But wouldn't the true measure of a hero be their ability to control their power, even in the face of temptation?"

All eyes turned to you. A hush fell over the room, the weight of their gazes heavy on your shoulders.

You met their stares with a serene smile, the mask you wore flawlessly. "After all," you continued, your voice dripping with honeyed insincerity, "a hero who can't follow the rules is hardly a hero at all, wouldn't you agree?"

The students exchanged uncertain glances, a seed of doubt planted in their minds. The teacher, however, looked at you with a weary gratitude. "Ah, yes. Thank you, Akuma-san."

"Teach!" Bakugo's voice boomed across the room, shattering the fragile peace. "Don't lump us all in the same group. I'm not gonna be stuck at the bottom with the rest of these rejects."

"That was uncalled for, Katsuki!"

"You all should shut up like the extras you are!" he snarled, his voice laced with venomous contempt.

The teacher, used to Bakugo's outbursts, sighed heavily. "Oh, if I remember correctly, you want to go to U.A. High, right, Bakugo?"

A collective gasp rippled through the classroom. U.A., the prestigious hero academy, was a dream most students only dared to whisper about. The air crackled with a mix of awe and disbelief.

"U.A.?" one student squeaked, his voice barely a whisper. "That national school?!"

"It was in the top 0.2% this year, you know!" another chimed in, their voice laced with awe.

"Their acceptance rate is always really low, too!" another student added, a hint of envy in their tone.

Bakugo scoffed, his chest puffing out with pride, reveling in the shocked silence. "That's exactly why you guys are just extras!" he roared, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "I aced the mock test! I'm the only one at this school who could possibly get into U.A."

He scanned the room, his gaze finally landing back on you. A smirk played on his lips, a silent challenge. "I'll definitely surpass All Might and become the top hero! My name will be inscribed on the list of top earners!"

A glint of something akin to admiration flickered in Bakugo's crimson eyes as he met your gaze. A silent conversation passed between you, a reminder of the unspoken event that took place years ago on the dusty playground.

Back then, after your... introduction to one another, you sparked a flicker of something else in him.

You became a necessary thorn in his side, a challenge he couldn't quite overcome. Here, in the confines of the classroom, you allowed him to maintain his facade of superiority—the "lord" to your unassuming "lady."

However, the dynamic shifted dramatically behind closed doors. You, the seemingly docile enigma, transformed into the puppeteer pulling the strings.

With subtle manipulations and veiled suggestions, you subtly guided his explosive rage towards your own ends.

It was a dance as intricate as it was exhilarating, a constant push and pull between your calculated control and his unbridled ambition.

The teacher cleared his throat, breaking the silent exchange. "Oh yeah, Midoriya, you wanted to go to U.A., too, right?"

A tense silence followed. All eyes darted towards Midoriya, who shrank under the sudden scrutiny.

"Erk..." Midoriya stammered, a blush creeping up his neck.

The class erupted in a cacophony of disbelief. "Hahahaha!" one student roared, tears welling from laughter.

"Huh? Midoriya? No way!" another chimed in. Disbelief morphed into open mockery.

"You can't get into the hero course just by studying!" a voice shouted from the back.

Midoriya's shoulders slumped. "Th-They got rid of that rule! There's just no precedent..." he mumbled defensively.

A guttural growl cut through the chatter. Bakugo, ever the volatile one, slammed his explosive hand clean through Midoriya's desk.

A loud crack echoed through the room, followed by Midoriya's startled yelp. "Gah! Ngh..." he gasped, scrambling back as debris rained down.

Bakugo leaned in menacingly, a cruel smirk twisting his features. "Hey, Deku!"

Midoriya flinched at the nickname, a look of pure terror on his face, his voice barely a whisper. "Ah...!"

"You're below the rejects!" Bakugo roared, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're Quirkless! How can you even stand in the same ring as me?!"

Midoriya, ever the underdog, tried to reason with him. "No, wait, Kacchan! It's not like I'm trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me! It's just that it's been my goal ever since I was little. And well... I won't know unless I try—"

Bakugo cut him off with a dismissive scoff. "Whaddaya mean, unless you try?! Are you taking the test for fun?! What the hell can you do? You're Quirkless!"

You watched the exchange with a detached interest.

This Midoriya—this Quirkless nobody, dared to dream of U.A when even you didn't care for it with all of your power?

A flicker of curiosity sparked within you. Perhaps keeping an eye on him wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

☆

☆

The shrill cry of the school bell cut through the afternoon lull, its harsh clang signaling the end of another day.

You meticulously scoured over your notes, making sure everything was in place before packing things into your backpack, the familiar routine a comforting constant.

As you cleaned up, a flicker of movement in the classroom caught your eye.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the unmistakable blond spiky hair of Bakugo. He was striding purposefully towards Midoriya, his two lackeys tailing behind him like particularly unpleasant shadows.

A low rumble of annoyance emanated from one of them, but the exact words were lost in the general din of the departing students.

You didn't need to be a mind-reader to know this wasn't going to be a pleasant encounter for Midoriya.

You'd seen enough of these interactions over the years to recognize the warning signs—the puffed-out chest, the simmering anger radiating off Bakugo like heat waves off a cracked sidewalk.

With a mental shrug, you opted to ignore the impending altercation. There was no point in getting involved. Midoriya, bless his heart, would weather the storm as he always did.

Bakugo loomed over Midoriya, a sneer contorting his features. His red eyes crackled with barely contained rage, a stark contrast to Midoriya's wide, frightened eyes.

In Bakugo's hand, you saw a flash of green—Midoriya's precious hero notebook.

Your eyebrow arched in interest. It seems that this wasn't just your usual bullying routine. This was something more.

Taking your time packing up, you were able to witness Bakugo deliver some rather cruel words.

"Hmph...Most top first-string heroes have stories about them from their school days," he started, his voice dripping with condescension before lighting the green journal on fire with his Quirk.

Midoriya can only gasp in horror as his childhood-friend-turn-bully tossed the notebook with a flick of his wrist.

It arced through the air in a slow-motion blur before disappearing through the open window.

"I want the shine of being able to be called the only student to make it into U.A. from this mediocre city junior high school," he declared, a manic glint in his crimson eyes.  "I mean, I'm a perfectionist, after all."

A cruel smirk twisted his lips as he leaned closer to Midoriya, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.  "Ah... And I gotta piece of sound advice if you wanna be a hero that badly. There's a quick and easy way to do it to."

He gestured dramatically towards the window, where the discarded notebook had vanished.  "Believe that you'll be born with a Quirk in your next life and take a last-chance dive off the roof!"

And with that, you were on your way, leaving them to their escalating conflict.

You had things to do, and Bakugo's playground squabbles held little interest for you.

Arriving home, you were greeted by an unsettling quiet. You shuffled inside, the silence pressing down on you.

The usual afternoon routine then unfolded—your mother emerged from the kitchen, her face etched with worry.  "How was school, Y/N?" she inquired, her voice laced with concern. "Did you have a good lunch?" she fussed, hovering for a moment.

You offered a mumbled response, neither confirming nor denying a desire for a snack. She mentioned your father working late, a familiar refrain.

You allowed her to fret for a few moments longer, the silence occasionally punctuated by her worried questions, before retreating to your room.

The revelation years ago still hung heavy in the air.  Instead of continuing the facade of Quirklessness like your unfortunate parents, you'd chosen a different path.

You'd shed a sliver of anonymity, revealing a fragment of your true power—the Control Devil, the Devil of Domination.

With practiced innocence, you'd approached your mother, claiming to manipulate your dolls with "strings." In reality, these strings were meticulously crafted illusions, visible only to those you deemed inferior.

The memory still elicited a wry smile.

Your mother's delight at your "Quirk," a miraculous emergence from two Quirkless parents, had been genuine and heartwarming. Her joy was a stark contrast to your father's reaction. He remained distant, his gaze guarded.

You cared little for his approval though. His wariness simply reinforced your commitment to staying undetected.

In fact, your carefully crafted illusion of a Quirk served as a perfect shield. It was a strategic move, a way to avoid the scrutiny someone like Midoriya faced.

The thought of him, Quirkless and ridiculed, sent a shiver down your spine.  You couldn't help but admire his tenacity, but you weren't about to follow in his vulnerable footsteps.

No, you were the Control Devil, and you'd operate in the shadows, your true power a secret weapon waiting to be unleashed.

Tossing your backpack onto the floor, you settled in to tackle the mountain of homework threatening to bury you. As the hours melted away, your focus remained unwavering.

Your phone vibrated sporadically, a notification flickering on the screen.

You ignored it with practiced ease, the dull glow a minor distraction in your studious world.

Finally, with a sigh of relief, you slammed your textbook shut, the last equation conquered.  Exhaustion gnawed at the edges of your concentration, urging you towards your bed.

A surge of curiosity, however, propelled you towards your neglected phone.

Unlocking it, you were met with a barrage of texts from Bakugo. The first few were cryptic, simply asking if you were busy.

Over the four or five hours you'd dedicated to homework, two more messages materialized, the first a blunt "Can you come over?" and the last, a curt declaration of "I need you."

One could do but wonder what made Bakugo so privy to your touch, presence—approval.

It was simple, really. You just made him feel important.

After the revelation of having a 'Quirk' to your parents, and registering it into the Quirk Registry, you then revealed Bakugo of your secret—a power not of brute force, but of influence: Control.

You swore him to secrecy—the childish way, of course—because if secrecy was what you truly desired, it would be no problem for you to attain it.

It was a lie that he was the first to know, but the deception served a purpose.

It created a bond, a sense of shared knowledge that inflated his already considerable ego. He, Bakugo Katsuki, was privy to your 'secret' (or so he believed).

He was special.

A low hum escaped your lips as you mulled over the messages. It wasn't like Bakugo to reach out, especially with such an obvious need.

The silence of your home pressed in again, and with a shrug, you decided a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Leaving your phone on your desk, you grabbed your shoes and headed out the door, the mystery of Bakugo's need leaving a knot of  curiosity in your stomach.

***in case everything wasn't clear, there has been a 10 year time skip between ch.5 to ch.6. hehehe I love writing this so much, lol. also, just wanted to give a heads up, i won't be updating tmr, hence the double update today; i'll be busy completing homework all damn day 💔💔 pray for me y'all. see ya next update 😘

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 14 Chapter 14 | secret syllabus⌟

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The days bled into another, the memory of your encounter with Todoroki a distant thought as you focused on the familiar routine of navigating the bustling halls of U.A. Lunch beckoned, and you clutched the brown paper bag of goodness—courtesy of a grumbled-but-appreciated offering from Bakugo—closer to your chest.

Just as you were about to turn the corner leading to the cafeteria, a deep, gravelly voice boomed from behind. "Akuma-san, a word please."

You whirled around, spotting Blood Vlad, his imposing figure filling the doorway, holding something to the side of him. A flicker of surprise danced across your features before settling into a mask of polite neutrality. "Kan-sensei," you greeted with a respectful nod.

"There's been a slight change in your schedule," he began, his crimson eyes studying you with an intensity that could make lesser students squirm. "Principal Nezu, with the unanimous support of the faculty, has extended an invitation for you to join Class 1-A at U.S.J. today."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. The Unforeseen Simulation Joint arc you'd devoured in textbooks? You couldn't help but be curious. "U.S.J.?" you echoed, allowing a touch of confusion to lace your voice.

Blood Vlad grunted in response. "Given your exceptional performance during class activities and your consistent lead over your peers, it's been deemed beneficial for you to observe Class 1-A during their training exercise. Consider it a... crash course in advanced hero work."

A slow smile spread across your face. Observing Class 1-A, the cream of the crop students at U.A.? This wasn't just an observation session; it was a golden opportunity to glean valuable intel on their strengths, weaknesses, and, most importantly, their Quirks.

Information you could then use to your advantage—to elevate your position within U.A.

"I understand, Kan-sensei. Thank you for informing me."

Blood Vlad gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. He lifted up the object he held—it was a sleek black suitcase. "Here," he rumbled, tossing the suitcase towards you with surprising agility. "Your hero costume. Get changed and report to the class. There, someone from 1-A should take you to the others, where Aizawa-sensei will brief you further."

You caught the suitcase effortlessly, the weight reassuring in your hand. "Understood," you responded, a single, clipped word that held a promise of silent understanding.

With a final, assessing glance, Blood Vlad turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone with the weight of unexpected opportunity and the promise of a thrilling afternoon at U.S.J.

You tucked the hero costume case under your arm and decided to swing back by the classroom to drop off your uneaten lunch before heading to change. As you approached the classroom door, the murmur of hushed conversation filtered through the thin barrier.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by the sight of nine of your classmates, a mix of familiar and less familiar faces, clustered around your usual desk.

Monoma shot up like a rocket the second his eyes landed on you. His wide, cheesy grin could rival All Might's in its enthusiasm. "President!" he crowed, his voice cutting through the hushed conversations.

The other eight turned towards you, their surprise mirroring Monoma's initial reaction. Tetsutetsu, gave a hearty laugh. "Akuma-san! Is everything fine from your... um... feminine emergencies? You nearly missed lunch! Good thing we waited for you," he boomed, his voice lacking any real malice.

"I appreciate you all's generosity, Tetsu-kun," you replied smoothly, keeping your voice vague as you internally tsked.

You knew someone—or rather, several someones—would be lingering for you despite dipping out of class ten minutes prior with the well-worn excuse of feminine issues. You just hadn't expected quite so many, or for them to be so persistent and actually wait for your return.

Monoma, ever the pest, was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, his persistent grin plastered on his face. "Whoa, what's that?" he blurted out, pointing an accusing finger at the hero costume case you held.

Tetsu's earlier question about your extended restroom break was clearly forgotten.

Kendo, your fiery-haired vice president, shot him a withering look. "Monoma, manners," she hissed under her breath, teal eyes blazing in irritation.

You, however, didn't mind the interruption. This was a perfect opportunity to further cultivate your air of mystery. A slight smile played on your lips as you lifted the case a few inches, the sleek black surface catching the light. "It's my hero outfit," you replied nonchalantly. 

The moment the case left your side, the classroom erupted in a flurry of excited chatter. Tsuburaba whistled appreciatively. "Whoa, looks intense, Akuma-san! What'd you get, a jetpack with it or something?"

A chorus of questions and comments filled the air. "How'd you get it so soon?" chirped Tsunotori, the girl with tall, pale tan horns, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Maybe it's super cute!" squealed Tokage, the dark, moss-green-haired student, bouncing on her toes.

Monoma scoffed. "Nah, definitely not cute. Probably something hot, right? Like a high-tech bodysuit that hugs and enhances her bo—"

Kendo, clearly exasperated, reached over and smacked Monoma on the back of the neck with a resounding thwack. "Monoma! Manners!" she hissed through gritted teeth once again.

Monoma yelped, rubbing his sore neck with a pout. "Jeez, Kendo, what was that for?"

Ignoring him completely, Kendo bowed towards you in apology. "I'm terribly sorry about Monoma, Akuma-san. He can be a bit too much sometimes."

You raised a hand, silencing the classroom with a single gesture. A satisfied smirk played on your lips as the chatter died down instantly. You liked it; they obeyed your command without you even needing to resort to your 'Quirk'. It spoke volumes about the hierarchy you'd established in Class 1-B.

"Thank you, Kendo-san," you replied politely, acknowledging her apology. "It's quite alright. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I have a hero costume to change into." You gave a curt nod and turned towards the door, a thrill coursing through you.

This unexpected invitation to U.S.J. was shaping up to be far more interesting than you could have ever anticipated.

With a quick stride, you made your way to the nearest restroom, eager to slip into your hero costume. Inside a private stall, you carefully removed your school uniform, anticipation building with each rustle of fabric.

Unzipping the sleek black case, you revealed your hero costume in all its glory. Quickly donning it, you stood back to a moment to admire your outfit in the mirror.

Your blouse, a pale aqua, was crisp and neatly buttoned, giving you a professional yet relaxed vibe. The black tie knotted firmly around your collar added a touch of seriousness to your look. Over your blouse, a fitted black blazer hugged your form, its sharp lines mirroring your newfound determination.

You'd paired this with classic black trousers, which complemented your frame with a comfortable, tailored fit. The pants ended just above brown leather shoes, polished to a high shine.

With your hands casually tucked into your pockets, you exuded a confident, ready-for-business air, softened by the whimsical hint of the forest green backdrop that adorned the inside of the blazer. It wasn't camouflage, exactly, but rather a subtle artistic flourish that hinted at a hidden power lurking beneath the surface.

Satisfied, you exited the restroom, ready to rejoin your classmates. As you walked back into your classroom, the murmurs started again. This time, however, they weren't filled with questions about your absence, but with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

A blur of movement zipped towards you. It was Fukidashi, the boy with the comic book head, bouncing excitedly. With a burst of energy, his head transformed into a flashing white speech bubble that read "Whoop! Whoop!" in bold letters, accompanied by a pair of clapping hands.

Behind Fukidashi shuffled Komori, a short girl with honey-brown hair curved inwards in a mushroom-shaped bob. Her usual shy demeanor was amplified by the situation, her cheeks dusted a soft pink.

She nervously twirled an end of her bob as she approached you, her voice barely a whisper. "A-Akuma-san," she stammered, "it... it looks really good on you. Very well-suited." She couldn't quite meet your gaze, quickly rushing off to hide behind Tetsutetsu, her face burning red.

Monoma attempted to maintain his usual bravado, his gaze, however, lingered a beat too long on your figure, a faint blush creeping up his neck despite his crossed arms. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. "Alright, alright," he scoffed, "So you got your hero costume early. Big deal. Why'd they give it to you anyway?"

You tilted your head slightly, casting a playful glance up at him through your lashes. A slow, teasing smile played on your plump lips as they stretched into a half-smirk. "Do you really want to know, Monoma-kun?~" you purred, your voice dripping with a deliberate sweetness.

The effect was instantaneous. Monoma's blush deepened several shades, and a flustered look crossed his face. It wasn't just him; several other classmates found themselves inexplicably flustered by your sudden display of playful charm. You couldn't help but internally smirk.

With a playful lilt in your voice, you replied, "Well, let's just say I wanted something practical. Something that wouldn't attract undue attention while working undercover amongst civilians."

This, of course, was a carefully constructed lie.

The truth was, the familiar lines of the suit were a subtle comfort, a reminder of your past life at Public Safety. But that was a secret you found no use in revealing.

"Now, as for the gadgets and upgrades," you gestured towards the subtle metallic accents lining the blazer, "there's extreme heat resistance for those sonic-based Quirks, and..." you trailed off dramatically, allowing a hint of mystery to linger. "Let's just say there are a few other surprises built in. Let's keep them under wraps for now, shall we?" The implication of hidden power was clear, and your classmates leaned in, captivated.

Tetsutestu let out a whistle, rushing over with eyes sparkling. "Whoa, that's sounds so manly, Akuma-san! Always gotta be prepared!"

Even Monoma, despite his embarrassment, managed to grumble a begrudging compliment, "I guess, you do look good. Not that I care or anything..." A faint blush still lingered on his cheeks, betraying his attempt at indifference.

The rest of the class chimed in, showering you with compliments on both the practicality and sleek design of your costume.

Suddenly, a sharp rap on the door startled everyone into silence.

The door creaked open to reveal a young man standing impeccably in the doorway. He was relatively tall and muscular, with a wide frame and short dark blue hair neatly flattened and parted on the right. His most striking features, however, were his calves.

Incredibly thick and shaped like automobile engines, six silver exhaust pipes protruded from each leg in columns of three. This, you knew from Bakugo, was the Quirk 'Engine' that granted him incredible speed and kicking power. 

"Excuse me," the young man began, his voice polite and formal. "My name is Iida, and I'm here from 1-A to escort an 'Akuma Y/N' to the U.S.J. meet-up-point. The bus is preparing to leave shortly."

An awkward silence filled the room. Your classmates exchanged glances, unsure how to react to the sudden arrival of a student from the prestigious Class 1-A.

Monoma, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, took a step closer to you, his usual sneer plastered on his face. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who it is. A fancy 1-A student here grace us with his presence. Think you can just waltz in here and snatch our precious president away, huh?"

You cut him off before he could unleash another tirade. A gentle giggle escaped your lips, the sound light and carefree. "Monoma-kun," you said, your voice laced with a hint of playful reprimand, "that's no way to treat a guest, especially a hero-to-be like Iida-kun." 

Mentally, you silently applauded Iida for his stoicism. Despite the tense atmosphere and Monoma's childish behavior, he remained calm and collected, a true mark of a leader.

Kendo, sensing the potential for escalation, wasted no time in delivering her own brand of justice. With a swift movement, she karate-chopped Monoma in the back of the neck. The blow, though not malicious, was more effective than the last two. Monoma yelped and crumpled to the floor, instantly silenced.

"Monoma deserved that," Kendo muttered under her breath, sending a reassuring smile your way. "Please excuse him once again, Akuma-san."

You waved her off. "No worries at all, Kendo-san. It seems we all have a bit of fire in us, wouldn't you agree?" With a final flourish, you rose to your feet, smoothing down the non-existent wrinkles of your blazer. Turning to your gathered classmates, you gave a small bow. "I'll be back shortly, everyone. Until then, keep up the excellent work."

Your gaze then settled on Kendo, your fiery-haired vice president. You placed a soft smile onto your lips as you met her eyes, tilting your head in a gesture of quiet confidence. Walking forward, you reached out and gently grasped both of her hands between yours. Your touch was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the cool exterior you often presented.

"Kendo-san," you began, your voice dropping to a low murmur, "I'm counting on you to keep everyone in line while I'm gone. You're the voice of reason here, and I know they'll listen to you." A playful glint entered your eyes. "Especially Monoma-kun. See if you can keep him from causing too much trouble."

Kendo's eyes widened momentarily, a harsh blush creeping up her cheeks. You couldn't help but find her flustered expression humorous.

Once again, here was someone reduced to a blushing mess by you from merely a simple touch and a few honeyed words.

"O-of course, Akuma-san," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I, uh... I won't let you down." Her long orange hair, usually tied back in a high ponytail, seemed to frizz slightly at the ends, betraying her underlying anxiety.

"I know you won't." Turning your attention back to Iida, you offered a polite smile. "Thank you for coming to fetch me, Iida-kun. I'm ready to go whenever you are."

As you began walking side-by-side with Iida, a memory flickered in the back of your mind. You recalled seeing him a few times around U.A., his distinctive blue hair and engine calves making him hard to miss, especially since he'd always hung Midoriya and some rosy-cheeked girl.

Filing that information away for later, you decided it would be beneficial to have a rule-follower like Iida on your good side. With a casual smile, you turned to him. "By the way, Iida-kun," you began casually, offering your hand for a shake, "allow me to formally introduce myself. Akuma Y/N, Class 1-B president, at your service."

Iida seemed momentarily surprised. Perhaps he'd expected you to maintain the same aloof demeanor your other classmates had displayed earlier. But as you offered your hand and a friendly smile, you could visibly see his demeanor relax a bit.

A hint of blush crept up his cheeks as he let out a short, embarrassed chuckle. "Ah, well, yes," he stammered, taking your hand with a light shake. "Of course I know who you are. Midoriya and, well, Bakugo-kun, have mentioned you a few times. It's a pleasure to properly meet you, Akuma-san. Iida Tenya, Class 1-A president, at your service as well."

You chuckled, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Also, please forgive the... enthusiasm of my classmates earlier. They tend to get a little carried away, especially when it comes to showing off Class B's best." You flashed him a wry smile. "Being class president isn't always sunshine and rainbows, is it?"

The dam broke. Iida, a wellspring of pent-up frustration finally unleashed, launched into a tirade about the struggles of student leadership. He spoke of overzealous classmates, mountains of hero-work on top of general education, and the constant pressure to maintain perfection.

You listened patiently, interjecting with understanding nods and sympathetic sighs. It wasn't hard to play the part of the eager listener, and Iida, starved for an outlet, poured out his woes.

As the conversation flowed, your eyes subtly began to glow a soft yellow. A faint, almost imperceptible sheen flickered over his eyes behind the glasses. He was under your subtle influence.

With this control in mind, you skillfully shifted the conversation. "Speaking of pressure," you began, your voice laced with feigned curiosity, "I can only imagine the expectations placed on Class 1-A. All those top heroes coming out of your class..." You trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Iida, caught in your gentle manipulation, readily took the bait. His frustration momentarily forgotten, he puffed out his chest slightly, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. "Yes, well, the pressure is immense," he declared, his voice taking on a more animated tone. "We have to constantly strive for excellence, to uphold the legacy of our predecessors. It's not for the faint of heart, that's for sure."

You leaned in slightly, feigning intense interest. "Tell me more," you urged, your voice barely a whisper. "What are some of the challenges you face? The unspoken expectations? Perhaps some of the Quirks your classmates possess..." You planted the seed of information-sharing subtly, watering it with your carefully constructed persona.

Iida, basking in your newfound attentiveness, readily complied. He launched into a detailed explanation of Class 1-A's rigorous training regimen, the immense pressure to succeed, and even dropped a few names of his classmates and their Quirks; his info a little more detailed than Bakugo's recount from the first day a couple of weeks ago.

You absorbed this information eagerly, filing it away for future use.

Just as you both rounded the corner to the bus, the yellow glow in your eyes faded away. With an innocent smile, you ended the connection, confident that you'd gleaned all you needed for now.

Pushing your control too hard could backfire; a dazed and confused Iida would be a red flag in a school crawling with heroes. No, subtlety was key.

You had taken the first bite out of the apple of Class 1-A's secrets, and you were hungry for more.

***usj arc slowly approaching...

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 10 Chapter 10 | an unlikely hero⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

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You weaved through the ruined cityscape with a practiced ease, taking down robots with calculated precision.

Your power, while not suited for large-scale destruction, allowed for a more subtle approach. You manipulated the movements of smaller robots, turning them against their larger counterparts, creating a domino effect of metallic mayhem.

The written portion of the exam had been a breeze.  Your mind, honed by years of self-study and fueled by your high intelligence, easily devoured the questions.

The only disappointment came during the announcement of testing zones—you, Bakugo, and Midoriya were all assigned different locations.

Oh well, you lose some and win some.

The practical exam had unfolded like a chaotic ballet. Dodging a falling hunk of scrap metal, you broke out of your contemplative mood just in time to sidestep a toppling robot you'd just dismantled.

Dusting your hands off with nonchalance, you were about to move on to your next target when a whimper pierced the air.

"Help!" a scared voice cried out.

Pinpointing the source, you located the voice coming from underneath one of the fallen robot legs.

Helping others wasn't exactly your forte, but heroics were part of the exam criteria.

With a sigh of resignation, you turned and headed towards the sound.

Jumping effortlessly over the debris, you reached the whimpering figure.  A young boy with short blond hair, a black lightning bolt streak framing his left eye, lay trapped under a section of the fallen robot.  His golden eyes, wide with fear, locked with yours as your shadow fell over him.

"Oh, thank Gods! Can you help—?" his sentence trailed off as he got a good look at you.

You ignored his awed stare, squatting down and fitting your fingers beneath the narrow gap separating the robot leg from the ground.

With a low grunt, you effortlessly lifted the heavy debris. "Move," you commanded, your voice devoid of warmth, as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

The boy stammered, tears welling up in his eyes.  "I-I can't. I think it's broken," he choked out, his voice trembling.

Before you could utter another word, a horrifying sound filled the air—a loud, unsettling creaking.  Shooting your gaze upwards, you saw a colossal chunk of the robot you'd just destroyed teetering precariously atop the building it had crushed.

And it was falling directly towards you and the injured boy.

A muttered curse ripped from your throat.  Without wasting a single breath, you shifted the weight of the massive metal slab onto one hand. With your other hand, you swiftly scooped the boy into your arms, his startled yelp muffled against your chest.

In a single, powerful motion, you pushed backwards, throwing yourself back onto the ground.

The metal slab crashed down with a bone-jarring thud, landing precisely in the spot you had both occupied a mere second ago.  A cloud of dust erupted around you, momentarily obscuring your vision and triggering a coughing fit.

After a few seconds, the dust settled, revealing the mangled remains of the robot where you once stood.

"Are you alright?"  You began to voice your concern, but your question died in your throat as you met the boy's gaze.  He stared back at you, his golden eyes wide with awe and a hint of hero worship.

"Are you an angel sent from heaven to save me?" he blurted out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and newfound reverence.

You were about to drop him ungraciously and disappear into the chaos, but then a glint of sunlight caught the strands of his blond hair, causing them to shimmer with an almost ethereal glow.

You cursed under your breath. There you go again, falling prey to your small weakness.

With a sigh, you said nothing, opting against abandoning your newfound charge.

Pushing yourself upright with surprising lower body strength, the sudden movement jolting the boy in your arms. He yelped, momentarily suspended in the air before you settled with him in your arms.

"Thanks again, angel!" He then quickly introduced himself as Denki Kaminari, though he insisted you call him by his first name.  As you listened to him ramble on about his gratitude and your supposed angelic intervention, a strange feeling of nostalgia bloomed within you.

You dropped him off at a makeshift infirmary tent, staffed by anxious-looking recovery heroes.

Denki, ever the chatterbox, insisted on getting your name before you could make a graceful exit.  With a theatrical sigh, you relented, offering a small bow.

"Akuma Y/N," you murmured, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes.  Leaning in closer, you added in a playful whisper, "Hopefully, I can get the chance to sweep you off your feet more often, Kaminari~." A wink completed the teasing gesture.

Denki's face flushed a brilliant red, his expression a comical mix of flustered gratitude and newfound awe. "C-Call me, Denki!"

You stifled a laugh, reveling in his predictable reaction.  It was strangely... comforting.

His god-worship, his wide-eyed adoration, it all felt strangely familiar.  A memory flickered at the edges of your mind—a loud blond boy and a fierce loyalty.

Could it be...?

A spark of amusement ignited within you.

This Denki character, with his boundless enthusiasm and hero worship, reminded you so much of a certain chainsaw-wielding devil hunter you had in your grasp a lifetime ago.

Perhaps Bakugo wouldn't be the only puppy you'd acquire at U.A.. He deserves a playmate, can't have your puppy too lonely.

With a final, playful pat on his head, you turned and disappeared back into the chaotic cityscape. You still had points to rack up, after all.

Besides, there were more robots to dismantle, and perhaps, another damsel (or damsel-in-distress-wannabe) in need of "saving."

A slow, predatory smile spread across your lips. This hero course was turning out to be more entertaining than you'd anticipated.

☆

☆

A week crawled by, the anticipation gnawing at you.  Finally, the day arrived—the results of the entrance exam were being released.  You were sprawled on your bed, lost in a daydream about manipulating the school lunch menu to include more of your preferred foods, when your bedroom door burst open with a bang.

"Y/N! They're here! Your results!" your mom exclaimed, bursting into the room, a manic grin plastered on her face.

She brandished a large envelope, practically vibrating with excitement.

Taking the envelope from her outstretched hand, you carefully peeled it open, your heart pounding a steady rhythm against your ribs. Unfolding the official U.A. document, your eyes scanned the page until they landed on the bold text:  "Congratulations!  We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into..."

A pause. You reread the line, a frown creasing your brow.

It wasn't Class 1-A, the prestigious hero course filled with the top prospects.  No, the letter continued: "...Class 1-B."

Disappointment flickered across your features for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by a sly glint.

Class 1-B.

Not quite the grand entrance you'd envisioned, but a detour was hardly a dead end.

In fact, being placed in the "lesser" hero course might be a blessing in disguise.

Back in middle school, you thrived in the shadows.

While the "popular" kids basked in the spotlight, you preferred the freedom of anonymity. It allowed you to operate with impunity, your carefully orchestrated "accidents" and manipulations remaining a mystery to everyone but your intended targets.

Being in Class 1-B offered a similar kind of freedom.  Here, you wouldn't be under the constant scrutiny of the teachers or the envious glare of top prospects.

No, here, you could blend in, observe, and most importantly, manipulate from the sidelines.

Class 1-B could be your launching pad, a springboard from which you could subtly influence the entire hero course, perhaps even the entire school.

The heroes-in-training might be focused on becoming symbols of peace, but you had a different vision—a vision you intended to weave into the very fabric of U.A. High.

This hero course was just getting started, and you, Y/N, were a master puppeteer, ready to pull the strings from the comfort of the shadows.

Class 1-B might not have been the spotlight you craved, but it was the perfect place to disappear in plain sight.

The game was afoot, and you, the enigmatic newcomer, held all the aces.

***did y'all like?? 👀

~𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚~

At U.A. High, the faculty crowded around a large monitor, eagerly observing the live feed of the entrance exam. Present Mic, ever the showman, bounced in his chair, practically vibrating with excitement.

"And there we have it, folks!" he boomed into the microphone, gesturing wildly at the screen.  "Another impressive display from young Bakugo, utilizing his explosion Quirk with strategic finesse!"

Midnight, draped seductively across a nearby chair, purred in agreement, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Just look at all the fresh meat, so...enticing."

Just as All Might was about to offer his own commentary, Present Mic cut him off with a flourish.  "But wait, folks, there's more!  Let's take a quick trip over to Zone C, shall we?" He zoomed in on a specific section of the screen, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now this next contestant... she's a real dark horse!  Check her out!"

The video focused on you, a stark contrast to the towering robots around you. With surprising ease, you lifted a massive robot leg, revealing a dazed Denki trapped underneath. You scooped him up in one arm, your small frame dwarfed by his own.

Despite the situation, Denki's face was lit up with a mixture of hero worship and childish awe as he gazed at you with wide, adoring eyes.

The scene was undeniably comical—a petite girl carrying a lanky boy like a prize.

A collective gasp rippled through the teacher's lounge. Recovery Girl, known for her stoicism, even let out a surprised chirp. Even the ever-stoic Principal Nedzu adjusted his spectacles, a hint of curiosity flickering in his beady eyes. Ectoplasm oozed a gelatinous puddle of excitement, while Cementoss rumbled his approval.

Aizawa, however, remained stoic. As the others oohed and awed over your display of strength and unexpected chivalry, he stood back, his brow furrowed in thought. A low mutter escaped his lips, barely audible over Present Mic's enthusiastic narration.

"There's something about her that doesn't feel right..." he murmured, his gaze fixed on you. The screen froze on a close-up of your face.

Your yellow eyes, usually playful, held a glint of something far more calculating. Within each iris, a series of crimson rings swirled slowly, like miniature galaxies nestled within your gaze.

The playful facade you presented for the exam might have fooled the others, but Aizawa, with his keen instincts, suspected there was something far more complex lurking beneath the surface.

The hero course had just begun, and a new mystery had entered the fold.

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 17 Chapter 17 | primal protection⌟

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When you finally regained consciousness, a wave of disorientation washed over you. You blinked, trying to focus in the dim light. You were alone, sprawled on what felt like rough concrete.

The air hung thick and heavy, a metallic tang stinging your nostrils. The distant rumble of something far below made your balance a bit unsteady. Your gaze swept the environment, taking in the barren landscape. Molten rock glowed faintly in the distance, casting an eerie red light across the desolate terrain. The heat, almost suffocating, pressed down on you.

Suddenly, the faint memory of Thirteen's voice, muffled and distorted, flickered back—about the "training zones." Ah, that's where you were.

For a fleeting moment, a strange comfort settled over you. The heat, the barrenness—it stirred something deep within, a forgotten memory from your past life.

Images flashed across your mind—ruling over realms of fire and brimstone, wielding terrifying power alongside your sisters, the other three Horsemen: Yoru—the War Devil, Fami—the Famine Devil, and Death with her chilling touch.

The nostalgic memory was shattered by a whoop that echoed through the desolate landscape. You snapped your head to the left, spotting a hulking figure emerge from the shadows. His head was a grotesque parody of a hammer, molten metal replacing flesh and bone. A cruel grin split his face, revealing rows of jagged, brown teeth.

"Well, well, well," he boomed, his voice a gravelly rasp, "look what we stumbled upon. Seems the League scattered more than just heroes." His eyes, two glowing embers recessed deep within his metallic skull, narrowed as they scanned you up and down.

Another figure emerged beside him, a wiry woman with forearms that looked like they were carved from obsidian. Black spikes, razor-sharp and glistening in the dim red light, ran along her arms from wrist to elbow. "Looks like a new toy for us to play with. How generous," she sneered, her voice a sibilant hiss.

The two villains cautiously circled you, sizing you up like a predator stalking its prey.

"Ya' don't look so hot," the hammer-headed villain chuckled, a sound like rocks grinding together. "Make sense. Unless you're some kind of fiery chick, you're toast in this zone."

The spiked-arm villain snorted. "She don't look like much, probably just a useless tag-along," she scoffed. "Maybe we can use her as bait to draw out the real fighters and have some fun."

You met their approach with a measured tilt of your head, a single eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

The heat seemed to intensify around you, the air crackling with unspoken power. These weren't worthy adversaries, but a small spark of amusement flickered within you.

Perhaps this little game would be a good way to pass the time until a more interesting challenge presented itself?

The hammer-headed villain, emboldened by your apparent lack of resistance, lumbered closer. He reached out, a massive metal hand engulfing your chin in a vice-like grip. He cackled, the sound echoing through the desolate landscape. "Hahaha! Well aren't we lucky? Got us a sassy one! Maybe Shigaraki wouldn't mind if I took her back to base as a little... pet project instead of killing her off now?"

Your eyes narrowed at his audacity, his words like a slap in the face. Your irises narrowed to pinpoints, a predator glinting within their depths. Your nostrils flared, releasing a hiss of raw power.

"Pet?" The word dripped from your lips, laced with venom. A sneer twisted your features, chilling the already scorching air. "You dare put your filthy hands on me and dream of a future where I am your inferior? Don't make me laugh. If anything, your place is beneath me. Where you belong." The amusement you'd felt earlier vanished, replaced by a cold, simmering fury.

The villain seemed momentarily taken aback by your sudden shift. But that hesitation was fleeting, replaced by a cruel amusement that twisted his already grotesque features.

A backhand swung across your face before you could react. The impact sent a jolt of pain through you, splitting your bottom lip and filling your mouth with the metallic tang of blood.

You hung your head, hiding the inferno building in your eyes as a primal rage began to boil within you, threatening to erupt and incinerate everything in sight. The villain, mistaking your posture for submission, seized your chin once more, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Oh yeah," he cackled, a sound that scratched against your already frayed nerves. "We'll have some fun back at base. Just look at those eyes." He leaned in closer, savoring the fear he thought he saw flickering on your face.

Just as you were about to unleash your wrath, a foreign sound cut through the air—a powerful explosion followed by a furious shout.

"Get your hands fucking off of her!" The shout was a primal roar, laced with a fury so potent that it sent shivers down your spine.

You looked up in time to see a blur of blond hair and crimson eyes. Bakugo had arrived, his entire form radiating a barely contained rage. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were now wild and feral, fixated on the villain who dared to touch you.

Without a moment's hesitation, Bakugo launched himself forward. A massive explosion erupted from his gauntlets, propelling him like a rocket towards the hammer-headed villain. The villain, caught off guard by the sudden attack, was sent flying backwards with a surprised yelp, the force of the blast sending him sprawling across the rocky ground.

You stared at Bakugo, he looked like a man possessed, his rage a tangible presence in the scorching air.  

With the hammer-headed villain on the ground, unconscious, the spiked woman rushed to his side, her eyes blazing with fury. "You'll pay for this!" she snarled, her voice laced with venom.

"Quit your yapping and fight me, you overgrown pincushion!" Bakugo barked as he ignited his gauntlets, explosions crackling around his fingertips.

The villain's face contorted in a snarl and with a scream, she lunged at him—her forearms extended, the razor-sharp spikes glinting menacingly in the dim red light. "I'll kill you!"

For a tense few moments, they became a blur of motion. Bakugo, fueled by rage and his explosive quirk, managed to hold his own against her relentless attacks. He dodged and weaved, countering her strikes with well-placed blasts. The air grew thick with the smell of burnt caramel and sweat.

But the spiked woman, despite her smaller stature, was surprisingly agile. She pressed her attack, eventually finding an opening. With a swift maneuver, she managed to trip Bakugo, sending him crashing onto his back. He grunted in pain, momentarily stunned.

Just as the spiked woman raised her arm, prepared to deliver a finishing blow, a crimson blur slammed into her side. Kirishima, with his entire body hardened into his unbreakable form, had arrived in the nick of time. The force of the impact sent the spiked woman flying several feet away.

She tumbled through the air, narrowly missing a molten rock wall, only to be caught by the hammer-headed villain who had regained consciousness. He groaned, rubbing his head with a metallic clang.

Bakugo, still on the ground but slowly regaining his bearings, let out a scoff. "You haven't had enough, huh, Hammer-Head?" he sneered at the hammer-headed villain.

The villain, his eyes burning with renewed anger, let out a guttural growl. "Games over, brats," he roared. With the spiked woman back on her feet, the two villains charged forward, a formidable duo fueled by vengeance.

Bakugo propelled himself forward once again, explosions erupting from his gauntlets. Kirishima followed close behind, a determined glint in his eyes.

The scorching air crackled with anticipation as the fight was about to reach its climax.

You, on the other hand, found yourself strangely unfazed by the impending brawl. Instead, you settled onto the edge of a nearby rock, a safe distance from the unfolding battle. Crossing your legs, you rested your chin on your hand, humming a soft tune under your breath, a stark contrast to the chaos before you.

The clash was a brutal ballet of explosions and hardened steel. Kirishima managed to deliver a powerful blow to the spiked woman, sending her sprawling unconscious onto the rocky ground.

Bakugo continued to hold his own with the hammer-headed villain, who, emboldened by the earlier fight, seemed to have shed his daze-inducing fury and replaced it with a condescending smirk instead.

"Heh, what a waste," he rumbled, his voice a metallic rasp. "You, with all that power, wasting it in this pathetic excuse for heroism." He circled Bakugo, his massive hammer glinting in the dim light. "Join us, kid. With us, you could be something truly great."

Bakugo scoffed. "You think I need your lectures, you oversized scrap heap?" He ignited his gauntlets once more, explosions crackling around his fingertips. "The only greatness I need is your ass destroyed!" he roared, lunging forward with renewed ferocity.

Seeing his words fail to sway Bakugo, the villain shifted his focus. "Once I flatten you and your little red buddy, I'm taking little Miss sweet thing over there back to the base," he boomed, gesturing toward you, "I'm sure the League will have a lot of fun breaking a fiery filly like her."

Bakugo froze mid-stride, his crimson eyes snapping towards you. In that split second, he saw the fresh bruise blooming on your cheek, the split lip that stained your face. The raw fury that had simmered down moments ago reignited with an explosive intensity.

A primal growl ripped from Bakugo's throat, his entire form trembling with rage. Before anyone could react, he was a blur of blond hair and fury. Explosions erupted with a deafening roar as he launched a relentless assault on the villain. Bakugo's attacks were brutal, fueled by a white-hot rage that seemed to consume him entirely.

Kirishima, ever the voice of reason, watched in growing concern. "Whoa, BakugBro! Chill, dude, he's already down!" he shouted, rushing forward to intervene.

But Bakugo was a force of nature at that moment. He rained blow after blow on the already defeated villain, the ground trembling with each detonation. Specks of blood misted the air around them, some landing hot against Bakugo's cheek. Just as Bakugo, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity, raised his hand for another explosion, Kirishima managed to grab his arm.

"That's enough, man!" Kirishima yelled, his voice strained. He forced Bakugo's arm down, the explosions subsiding with a final hiss. The hammer-headed villain lay sprawled unconscious in a crater of his own making.

Bakugo, his chest heaving and his eyes blazing with a feral intensity, slowly turned towards Kirishima. For a tense moment, their gazes locked, a silent battle of wills transpiring between them.

Finally, with a ragged breath, Bakugo seemed to regain some semblance of control. He ripped his arm free from Kirishima's grasp and stalked towards you, his expression unreadable.

When Bakugo reached you, he said nothing but held out his arms. Gently lowering yourself into his strong arms, you were deposited back onto the rocky ground.

Standing beside him, you allowed your eyes to take in the scene of destruction. The once desolate landscape was now marred by craters and scorch marks, a testament to the ferocious battle that had just transpired. Humming a low tune, a habit that surfaced whenever you were deep in thought, you turned towards the edge of the volcanic zone, the exit beckoning.

Without a word, you began to walk, Bakugo following close behind.

"Hey, wait up!" Kirishima called out before jogging over, catching up to you and Bakugo. "What a fight! Especially you, BakugBro. Even if you did went a little wild there for a second, it was super manly." He grinned, nudging Bakugo playfully.

Bakugo, still fuming but clearly regaining his composure, mumbled a grumbled response under his breath. "Yeah, yeah.. Whatever ya' say Shitty-Hair"

As the three of you navigated back towards the central plaza of USJ, you allowed your thoughts to drift over Bakugo's actions.

A slow smile played on your lips.

It seemed the instinct to protect you, once solely present when you held direct control over someone, had evolved.

Back on the playground in your youth, his fury had ignited when you were challenged by his ex-playmates. But here, the mere suggestion of you being taken had triggered a similar, albeit more controlled, outburst.  

A fascinating development. Perhaps frequent exposure, like a well-trained pet, had instilled within Bakugo a possessiveness you hadn't anticipated. The thought sent a soft chuckle bubbling up from your chest.

"What's so funny?" Kirishima asked, his voice laced with curiosity as he glanced over at you.

You shook your head, the playful glint in your eyes a secret held solely between you and the volcanic landscape. "Nothing," you replied, your voice light and carefree. "Just enjoying the scenery."

The walk back was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional rumble from the depths of the earth and the rhythmic crunch of boots on rock. As you emerged from the scorching zone, the sight of the familiar plaza filled your eyes. There, in the distance, you spotted the rest of Class 1-A, a jumble of concerned faces huddled together, seemingly relatively unharmed.

But just beyond them, you saw it.

Aizawa, Class-1A's ever stoic and capable teacher, lay crumpled on the ground, his face contorted in pain. His head was propped at an unnatural angle, a sickening scene made all the more horrifying by the figure looming over him.

It was the monstruous creature from earlier with the exposed brain.

There, the creature held Aizawa's head in a vice-like grip, and with a sickening crack, slammed Aizawa's head against the unforgiving ground once more.

Even from where you were, you cold hear the horrified screams from the students below, their faces etched with terror.

Kirishima didn't hesitate, immediately rushing  down the plaza towards the horrifying scene, determined to protect his friends and teacher. Bakugo followed after him with a quick "Stay safe" to you over his shoulder.

A slow smile played on your lips, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding below. This turn of events was unexpected, yet undeniably thrilling. With a glint of amusement in your eyes returning, you took a single step forward, ready to play your part in this unfolding drama.

The heroes, the villains, the fear, the chaos—it all fueled a dark anticipation within you.

***AHHHH! Someone trade places with me i dont wanna live my life 😩 y'all so much shit just happened to me frfr. not only did I just unexpectedly become an aunt, but i have to move out my dorm, as well as complete 3 assignment papers and also take an Anatomy and Physiology exam 💀💀💀💀 AJSBHWKDS i'm tweaking y'all. anyways, i'm not gonna lie, i lowkey don't wanna write out the next scene 😭😭😭 we'll see, either i do it, or imma do a sort of time skip and do a small summary of what went down 💀 aslo, sorry for not updating these last few days, as you can see a bit ealier in this note i'm in fact not okay ❤️❤️❤️ but fr see y'all soon and thanks for the love 🥹

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

[winxanity-ii]

⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 01 Chapter 01 | volunteer work⌟

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"I swear, I don't even know how I allowed you to talk me into doing this." You pulled on the collar of your hoodie, feeling yourself growing anxious as you stood outside the double doors of a large stadium.

"Because you owed me and I owed someone else. Kinda handled two things at once, ya' know?" The voice of your best friend, Seora, comes out faintly through the phone pressed up against your ear.

"Yeah, and I thought you'd cash in the favor by me buying you ATEEZ merch or some food, not use it to come and do someone else's job for them." You hissed into the device, a bit frustrated at how nonchalant she sounded. "I can literally go to jail for employment fraud."

"If you stick to the plan, act the part, you won't get caught~"

You sighed in a mixture of annoyance and disappointment as you rubbed the bridge of your nose. "Okay, whatever. What am I supposed to do again?"

"Just walk up to the desk, say you're Han Ji-yoo and one of the volunteers. Hand 'em that ticket stub, and boom! You're good. And don't stress too much; I'll be there in like an hour." As Seora tried quelling your fears, you looked down at your watch only for it to read eight o'clock in the morning; it was time.

After wrapping up your goodbye with your friend, as well as threatening to choke her if you got caught, you hung up the phone, placing it in your pocket.

Taking one more deep breath, you made your way inside the stadium. Walking up to one of the booths, you politely knocked on the window to catch the teller's attention. "What can I do to help you?"

"Um, hi? My name is Han Ji-yoo and I'm one of the volunteers for the BTS concert that's being held today." You knew you must have looked sketchy by the way you kept fidgeting in place.

"Ticket, please?" The teller spoke with a polite smile.

"Oh, right. Just a sec." Fumbling in your hoodie pocket, you took out the ticket Seora gave you, sliding it through the slot.

The teller's eyes were narrowed as he looked down to observe the authentication of the ticket.

You were sweating bullets as you waited for something to happen.

Oh, Gods. Oh, Gods. Oh, Gods. I'm screwed! He knows I'm not Ji-yoo! I'm gonna go to jail and become someone's prison bitchㅡ

Your dramatic and hectic thoughts were disrupted by the teller's voice. "Okay Ms. Han, if you'd just sign here to document your attendance, I'll go fetch your badge." With that, you forged Ji-yoo's signature, something Seora made sure you learned to do, and the teller left the window to get the badge.

As soon as the man was out of sight, you squatted down to the floor, hands on your head as you prayed to any and all the Gods above. You can't believe you just committed identity fraud and got away with it.

Too deep into your miniature breakdown, you didn't notice the teller's reappearance. "Ms. Han?"

You jumped up at once, nearly giving the teller a heart attack. "Hello, sorry, I was tying my shoe."

Clearing his throat, the teller slid the badge through the slot. "Here's your badge, Ms. Han. Be sure to always have this in view around your neck so you aren't mistaken as trespassing," he gave you a laminated card hooked onto a long cord. "Just go down this hallway and turn left when you reach the intersection. There should be a sign on a metal door showcasing the point of where the volunteers go."

"Thank you, have a nice day," you told the teller, picking up the badge and placing it around your neck. You then followed the teller's instructions, arriving at the room in less than ten minutes.

The moment you walked inside, there was a woman that asked to see your badge. "Ms. Han, here is the map as well as your schedule for today." She then handed you two sheets of paper. "You will be located in Group C. Your task, along with the other volunteers of the group, will be to set up the room in which the fan-meeting will be held."

"A fan-meeting?" You looked up, confused at what you heard. "I didn't know there would be a fan meeting after the concert."

The woman gave you a polite smile as if already expecting your response. "This information was withheld from the volunteers to ensure that it wouldn't be leaked out to the public and cause too much chaos."

You nodded your head in understanding. "So where do I go again?"

"Group C is over there by the double doors."

After thanking her, you briskly made your way over to the group of people; there were about twenty in total, a little less than you were inspecting.

"Good afternoon everyone, my name is Kim Sang-hun and today I will be your group leader for Group C." An averaged height male with fading-grey hair stood at the front of the group with a bright smile on his face. "If Mrs. Lee didn't already explain, our task as Group C is to prepare and decorate the room for the fan-meeting that will be held after today's concert." Sang-hun did a bit more explaining as well as answered a few people's questions before telling us all to follow him towards the room where the fan meeting would be held.

Your group walked for a bit before stopping at a metal door that led to a room the size of a high school library with a bunch of white and purple decorations, chairs, and posters sitting in a corner.

"Alright, group." Sang-hun clapped to catch everyone's attention, "Let's get to it."

☆ ✩ ☆

Time seemed to move by quickly as you found yourself immersed within the tasks you were given; as soon as you were finished with one thing, you were immediately assigned anotherㅡit was oddly satisfying.

Other than that, you surprisingly found yourself talking and laughing a bit with those around you.

Growing up, you weren't an outgoing child; this often led to you having trouble socializing with others your own age. Honestly, it was a miracle that you and Seora managed to become friends, seeing as she was the complete opposite of you, so you were a bit happy to be able to converse a little with the other volunteers, even if the conversations were no more than four or five minutes long.

The sound of talking and the scraping of chairs filled the room as dozens of people moved about, decorating the room for the upcoming fan-meeting.

Instead of out there with the other volunteers hanging up posters or blowing up balloons, you were seated in a corner tying up purple steamers.

"Hey, Ji-yoo." You continued to knot the streamers together, forgetting that you were posing as Han Ji-yoo; you only remembered when the person repeated the name as well as giving you a tap on the shoulder.

"Huh?" When you looked up, you were greeted by a pretty brunette girl, who was pale with hazel eyes, and had her hair cascading over the side of her neck in waves; her badge read Kim Alex.

"Hi, my name is Alex and I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but there's a girl named Seora looking for you."

You perked up at the mention of your best friend, "Really? Where is she?" You leaned over, trying to see if you'd see her behind Alex.

"She's not here, she's actually in my group, Group F," Alex spoke, seeing your actions. "I just thought I'd let you know since I was asked to tell Group C that it was lunchtime and noticed that you were one of the few that didn't move."

You nodded your head in understanding as you saw other people from your group leaving their spots and walking out of the room. Following suit, you put down the things you were working on, got up, and followed the others, with Alex right behind you.

"So how did you know I was the one she was looking for?" You asked the brunette, wanting to start a conversation.

Alex scratched the back of her neck in a sort of sheepish way. "Seora actually came into the room about an hour ago exclaiming loudly if anyone knew where Lin Y/N. When no one knew what she was talking about, she went on to describe the person wearing an oversized red hoodie. Someone then told her that no one by that name was a volunteer and that there was a Han Ji-yoo in Group C that fit that description," she explained as the two of you walked down a long hallway with the others. "She apologized and then asked me to pass you the message when I went to fetch Group C."

When Alex finished her explanation, you wanted to both rub your face in exasperation and strangle Seora for unintentionally revealing your identity. "Ha, Seora's such a jokester sometimes." you forcefully laughed with a smile.

Soon enough, you all reached the luncheon area.

"Ji-yoo! Over here!" There, by the table filled with boxed sandwiches, was Seora.

You turned to smile at Alex, "Thanks for giving me Seora's message. Hope you have a good rest of the day," you told the brunette before walking over to deal with your headache.

As soon as you made it to Seora's side, you gave her a swift punch in the side.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" she hissed, rubbing her side.

"You got me to pretend to be someone else only to reveal my real damn name? What sense does that make?"

Your agitation only grew once you saw the sheepish expression on her face. ""Heh, my bad. It slipped. Got caught in the moment."

Sucking on your teeth, you just shook your head, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's just go get something to eat before you expose me anymore," you told the girl, walking past her to grab a boxed lunch.

"I said I was sorry," she whined, trailing behind you.

*** Like I said in the Blurb, this will be my final and last time re-writing this book.

As time passed and as I grew as a writer, I found that my previous form of writing (this book, lol) was HORRIBLE. Like how did y'all even read this shit!? Y'all wrong for not telling me this was trash 🤣🤣.

But yeah, I will be re-doing everything, as well as fixing plot holes and giving the Taehyung romance that was not given the first time around.

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-nohoodsattached ml #taehyung x oc #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x reader #taehyung #kpop idol #kim taehyung #thehoodie #nohoodsattached #comedy #v x you #bts v #v x reader #idol #bts #bts army #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #romance #angst #smallangst #short #cute #bts stuff #bts stories #short story