#toxic deku x reader

[gglitch1dd]

Angry Dilfs- Midoriya Izuku

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Context: Your husband doesn't take lightly to people staring at your ass, especially if it's Bakugou Katsuki.

Warning: Brief SMUT/ Angry sex. It literally lasts like 3 paragraphs, its not that deep, Shouting, TOXIC EX! Bakugou Katsuki, the mention of vasectomies (the horror), Children (the horror x2)

Note: This sort of links to The Contract series that I wrote for Izu.

You leaned back in your chair as everyone laughed around the table. The long dining room table sat big enough to fit your entire family and the Kirishimas who had come over. Your husband sat at the head of the table to your right. He had a resting smile on his face as he looked at the people around you. Your large man, husband of sixteen years, father of five and Number One hero sat with his large figure in his seat, plate long empty as Katsuki told his story. You got up from your seat, moving to take you and your husband’s plate to the kitchen, the kids having gone to play video games or talk amongst themselves, leaving you adults to talk (plus your newborn, Kota who was chewing his hand).

You picked up his plate, instantly taking his attention. You leaned down to him, placing a kiss on his forehead. He moved a hand to your waist. “Want a refill Izu?” You asked softly, motioning to his glass.

He nodded his head with a smile. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” He spoke softly back up to you. You smiled as you moved to the kitchen.

Izuku watched you with a fond smile before turning back to Katsuki. However, the blond hero seemed to have his own crimson gaze following you too. That did not sit well with Izuku. Truth be told, the blond Number two ProHero had been looking at you seconds too long for Izuku’s liking.

Katsuki took a sip of his Manhatten as he leaned back, a chuckle at the back of his throat. “I told her that she should try running after a car going a hundred sixty kilometres an hour and see how she feels.” He jested making the men at the table chuckle.

 Eijiro sat beside Katsuki with a smile on his face. He watched as his twelve year old daughter shuffled into the kitchen, her black hair tied down in a braid as she moved to help you in taking care of the dishes.

Katsuki looked to Izuku who had picked up Kota from his high chair and brought him to sit on his lap. The eight month old was a rather happy and giggly baby, never really crying much and had the cutest and roundest freckled cheeks. Katsuki raised an eyebrow at the baby who seemed no infatuated with Izuku’s hand. “So when’s the vasectomy appointment, Deku?” He asked motioning his glass to the green haired man.

Izuku raised an eyebrow with a scoff. “What vasectomy?” He asked.

Katsuki shrugged as he leaned back. Eijiro looked at him uneased, not liking how this might end up going. “I mean you’ve got five kids, don’t you think it’s time you…” He made a scissor motion with his fingers and made snipping noises. The motion made Eijiro shiver at the pure thought of anyone coming near his own pair.

Izuku stared at Katsuki unblinkingly for a moment. Out of pure decency and the fact that he was holding his youngest son with him, he kept his composure. Katsuki had the habit of jesting and poking at Izuku just because he wanted to. Izuku hated it almost as much as he hated the blond himself. He let out a breath as he ran a hand through Kota’s soft green curls. “That’s between me and my wife, Kacchan. If she wants me to do it, I’ll do it.”

“If I want you to do what?” You appeared again, placing down a glass of lemonade in front of Izuku. He never liked to drink whenever the kids were around, even if it was just a glass. If he was going to drink, it would be away from them. You leaned against your husband, your weight barely effecting him at all as you held a warm bottle of milk that you had just warmed up for your youngest son in your other hand, shaking it gently.

Izuku opened his mouth but Katsuki beat him to it. The blond leaned forward with a teasing smirk on his face. “Don’t you think it’s time your husband got a vasectomy?”

Your eyes widened as you turned to look down at Izuku, wondering where that all came from. He sighed as he shrugged, telling you that he didn’t even know where it came from. You turned your head to look back at Katsuki. “Well, I think we will talk about it if that’s how we want to go about doing things.” You worded carefully, not entirely sure what the point of the question was. “Either way, I’m happy with my boys.” You smiled sweetly as you looked down to Kota who was silently staring at Eijiro who was playing peek-a-boo with him, soft giggle escaping his mouth. You picked him up gently, taking his attention making him squeal at the sight of his mother, happy to see you. Bright green eyes holding nothing but happiness and love. You chuckled as you held your little boy in your arms. “My five boys are all I could ever wish for.”

“I’ve given up on having a girl.” Izuku casually stated as he lifted his glass of lemonade up to his lips.

Eijiro chuckled as he scratched the back of his head. “I think I would only ever have girls, if Katsuki-”

“Don’t start with me, Red.” Katsuki dismissed with a hand up and a roll of his eyes. At that, not too far away you heard shouting from the two oldest boys in the house who were shouting about their video game. “Two is enough as is.”

Eijiro stared down at his empty glass, his large hands holding it rather tightly as he kept a smile on his face. “Of course, babe.” He said softer this time, red hair cascading down his shoulders as he stared at his cup. He took a deep breath before looking up with a smile. “Speaking of which, we should get going. It’s getting late.” He puffed out as he stood up in his chair. He looked to you with a grateful smile. “Thank you for the meal, Y/N.”

You smiled. “It’s no problem, Eijiro.”

Eijiro waved to your youngest, making the baby wave a hand back flexing his fingers as his way of saying bye. Eijiro looked to his daughter. “Satomi, sweetheart, say your goodbyes, we’re leaving.” He notified her.

She put down the glass she had rinsed off and looked up with a smile. “Okay, daddy.” She said sweetly as she moved back over to you. “Sorry I couldn’t finish the dishes, but I did most of them. Thank you, it was really nice.”

Satomi was always such a sweetheart, carved from literal gold and gifted from the heavens. She was her father’s little copy and you knew how much she was a light in his life. You put a hand to her face and smiled. “You didn’t have to, Satomi, but thank you. I’ll see you soon, okay?” She nodded her head excitedly and said goodbye to your husband. You turned to look down the hall. “Toshinori! Kane has to go now!”

It took a few seconds before your oldest son who had just turned fourteen appeared, curly green hair mostly hidden under a beanie. “What?” He let out in disappointment. “We were just getting to the good stuff.”

Appearing as well was Kane, thirteen and the splitting image of Katsuki. His puffy blond hair and crimson eyes looked so much like his father, but he had so much softer edges to him than Katsuki. “What!? Can Toshinori and I have a sleepover.” He bargained.

Eijiro chuckled. “On another day, Kane. Not tonight. You can both play video games tomorrow.”

Kane frowned but nodded his head with a grumble, following Toshinori to go pack up their games.

You saw little heads of green hair peaking from the side as well, Toshinori’s three other brothers peaked from over the side, a ten year old, six year old and four year old, giggling with mischief in their eyes. You gave them all a pointed look and motioned up the stairs. “Sprouts! Go get ready for bed.”

They all grumbled, the oldest one of the three of them, ten-year-old Asahi, led his brothers upstairs.

“Kacchan, can I talk to you for a second?” Izuku asked as he stood up, his hands in his pockets. A serious look was on his face as he confronted the blond.

Katsuki rolled his eyes but stood up from the chair he had made himself comfortable in and headed towards the back sliding door that led to the garden outside, following after your large bulky husband. Your eyebrows furrowed in wonder at what they would be talking about but you decided to leave them be. Kota had been drinking from the bottle you had gotten him, safely holding it with his hands as he started to get tired from the long day. You turned to look at Eijiro. “Come, let me get you guys some left over brownies.” You motioned for him to follow you.

Eijiro let out an awkward laugh, his daughter going off to Toshinori and Kane who were still packing up. “You don’t have to, Y/N.”

“Nonsense.” You shook your head. You leaned over closer to him. “Izuku eats too many anyways.” You whispered teasingly.

You handed him Kota making his eyes widen in surprise, but he held the baby properly and supported the bottle that he was drinking from as well. You made swift work of packing a container of brownies that you had baked. Living in a house filled with boys, you had learnt to cook and bake in the masses. You carefully got foil and placed the chocolate brownies in the container. You looked up at Eijiro who looked down at your youngest son with an adoring look. The little one blinking slowly with sleep in his eyes.

You motioned to him. “He really likes you.” You pointed out. “You’re so good with kids, Eijiro. How come you and Katsuki never had more kids?” You asked trying to make sure you weren’t coming off too strong. After you and Izuku had Toshinori, Katsuki and Eijiro got egg doners and a surrogate and managed to have Kane and the next year, Satomi.

Eijiro he looked down at Kota with an easy smile, holding him sweetly as he rocked him in his arms. “Katsuki didn’t see the point in it.” He spoke nonchalantly. “Said too many would get in the way of his career and spot as Number Two. He doesn’t want added pressure I guess.” He shrugged.

You nodded, remembering how serious Katsuki took his career when you both had been dating long ago. Too long ago. But that was in the past. You didn’t say anything more, glancing at Izuku and Katsuki who stood outside, the sliding door closed, blocking any bits of their conversation. However, you could see by their body language that it must have been a heated conversation to say the least.

“What the fuck are you saying, Deku?” Katsuki let out with a harsh crimson glare aimed at the taller man in front of him.

Izuku had his arms folded over his chest as he stared down at Katsuki. Hands gripping his biceps as he frowned at the blond man in front of him. “You heard what I said, Kacchan.” He tried keeping his voice even toned and with less aggression as he could muster. Knowing how Katsuki could get. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring at my wife.”

Katsuki scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “And on what basis would you think I would be doing that?”

“On the basis that I have eyes.” Izuku stated plainly. “I’m not ignorant about your feelings to her have not gone away even after the two of you broke up nearly two decades ago. I don’t know what inner complex or feelings you must be going through,” He motioned to the blond man in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed in seriousness. “But I think it’s for the best you keep those in line and in check.”

Katsuki smirked with a tilt of his head, his crimson eyes finding amusement in the situation as he let out a low chuckle. “Or what, Deku?” He asked lowly with a raised eyebrow. “You’re gonna blame a man for having eyes or are you going to blame your wife for having a fat ass?”

Izuku closed his eyes as his fingers dug into his bicep, he took a deep inhale before looking away from Katsuki. “Okay, I think it’s time for you to go, Kacchan.”

“I swear, Deku,” He stepped forward closer to the Number One hero, “Just because you can give her all the sons she wants and all the money in the world doesn’t take away the fact that…” He leaned in close, a smirk on his face and a whisper out of his mouth. “I’ve been in your wife’s pussy before. It doesn’t take away the fact that at one stage she would have been in the exact same position she’s in now but instead she would be Mrs Bakugou and she’d be having my blond brats instead. So why don’t you stop your high horse because you were lucky to wind up with her, and leave me be.”

The blond stepped back as he moved to leave Izuku outside, heading back inside the Midoriya residence. Katsuki smirked as he moved over to where everyone had now moved to the entrance hall, making their way outside. You held Kota in your arms as you allowed Eijiro, Kane and Satomi outside.

Katsuki smirked as he walked over to you, his hands in his jacket. “You take care now, Y/N.” Katsuki kept his eyes on you with that deep intense gaze.

“You too, Katsuki.” You nodded with a pleasant smile, ignoring his eyes racking over your figure as he stepped to leave outside.

You felt Toshinori step closer to you. Your son having a tense smile as he moved to hold the door. “Goodbye Uncle Kacchan.” He dismissed.

Katsuki scoffed as he looked the boy up and down. He rolled his eyes as he moved over to his Audi. “Midoriyas.” He shook his head.

Toshinori’s face dropped as he glared for a second before closing the door rather. He shook his head with a frown. “Uncle Kacchan is weird.” He stated simply making you chuckle. Toshinori had been getting taller and taller everyday and you were just waiting for the day he would surpass you, already nearly being your height.

You nudged him softly. “You heading to your room?”

He nodded his head. “Yah. Training with dad this morning made me kind of drained.” He explained.

Toshinori had received One for All from Izuku, having been born quirkless and was slowly being trained in dealing with the powerful quirk he now had. One for all was a strange thing, as Toshinori inherited it, it never diminished Izuku’s own power either. Having two holders of such a powerful quirk was something you knew the Commission seemed more than excited to explore once your son hit UA. But you were just glad he was managing the new quirk so well and he hadn’t gotten seriously hurt.

You nodded your head. “Alright, you head to bed. I’m sure you two will be going for another morning jog.”

Toshinori nodded his head, a spark in his bright green eyes at the thought. “Yah! Dad said it would increase my stamina, but honestly I think its also for indurance. Ever since receiving One for All, I noticed the gravity of having to have a lot of energy but also learning to use the energy I have. It’s really interesting actually, especially since I haven’t unlocked all the other quirks yet! I wonder if I’ll be more like dad or grandpa All Might? All the past holders seem really informative but nothing I’ve already received from dad and-” You watched your son drone on a tangent, so passionate about his quirk.

You couldn’t help but smile dearly at your oldest boy. He was so much like his father. You chuckled and nodded. “Alright, alright, Toshi. Just don’t push yourself too hard. You still have time before hitting UA.” You reminded him, pulling on his beanie a bit more. “You head on to bed now.”

He nodded his head and leaned over and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Night, Ma.” He whispered closer to you, remembering his little brother who was now passed out in your arms on a milk coma. Toshi turned to look at the sliding door to where his father was.

You turned to look at Izuku who had his back to the door, standing motionless as he looked out at the garden. You put a hand to Toshinori’s shoulder. “I’ll tell him you said goodnight. He’s probably counting the bunnies again.” Toshi nodded his head and left to go upstairs. “Mind checking on your brothers for me?”

“Not at all.” He spoke cheerfully as he left to go upstairs.

You watched him leave to go upstairs before turning to look at your husband. Your eyebrows furrowed in worry, feeling as though something happened when he was talking to Katsuki. However, you knew he needed some time to collect all the millions of thoughts that buzzed around his head.

“Ah! Izuku!” You cried out as his hands gripped your hips. Your ass slapped against his pelvis hard and fast as he slammed you back onto his cock. His grip on you was bruising to say the least, borderline painful but the pleasure was also just as overwhelming.

You hadn’t expected to end up in this position when you had both retired for the evening, you putting down all the boys, making sure they were all in bed and asleep while Izuku insisted on cleaning up downstairs. He was an attentive husband that way. With all the work he did as Number One, he still always put in work in the home and with you and the kids. You felt lucky to have a husband who managed to balance it all like he did.

However, you were surprised to find yourself wrapped up in his arms, pure need and wanting in his intentions. It flattered you to say the least and you took your chance at intimacy with your husband as quickly as you could. That’s how you found yourself face first in your sheets, so glad that your room was soundproofed.

However as much as you loved your husband and how much he filled you up so effortlessly, this was a surprise to you. The aggression he had tonight seemingly came out of nowhere. Now you weren’t totally adverse to how rough he was being, however you had that nibbling feeling inside you that told you that something wasn’t right.

You bit back a moan as you turned to look at him. Your large thick husband seemed deep in his head but also focused as he fucked you. His eyebrows were furrowed and seemed less vocal than normal. That raised enough flags in your head (as well as the bruising you would have on your hips and ass) to tell you that you had to put a pause in things.

“Izuku… Izuku stop.” You let out rather firmly. At your tone of voice, instantly your husband paused. Not even asking or entertaining the thought of pressing on for more sex that could clear his turbulent mind. You looked back at him worriedly. Your husband had never struggled performing in bed, but you knew just how strong his emotions are and how they could effect him.

He let out a low growl. “Shit!” He shouted, pushing himself out of you before letting go of you completely.

You finally relaxed into the sheets for a moment, letting out deep breaths as you tried to collect yourself for a second before turning over to look at your husband. Izuku sat with his head in his hands, turned away from you, his scarred back facing you as he was silent. You bit back the slight discomfort to your sex as you shuffled over to him. “Izuku...” You spoke softly, placing a hand on his back as you sat up. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He let out a deep breath before standing up and out of bed. “Bakugou Katsuki. That’s what’s fucking wrong.” He let out clearly riled up and angry as he started to pace around the room.

You watched him silently, nodding your head, allowing him the moment to vent. “Okay, what did Katsuki do?” You asked him.

Izuku stopped momentarily to look at you. He motioned to the side. “All night, he had been staring at you like you were some piece of meat on a platter for him to take all for himself. I mean, this isn’t the first time, Y/N.” He told you, green eyebrows furrowed in a mix of anger and confusion. “I mean, I see how he constantly looks at you at Hero Galas, when we meet up with friends, school events, even in our own house! Now I decided to talk to him because I don’t appreciate him staring at my wife like that and he comes back to the fact that he’s still adores you! Telling me all about how he’s been inside you before and how you should be Mrs Bakugou. I told you that he would never move past that.”

You shifted uncomfortably, remembering the drama that had happened long ago when you were once in love with Bakugou Katsuki, only for him to cheat on you with the very same redhead man you had eating at your dining room table tonight as well. It was something you still thought about, but one you had gotten peace with. Mostly because you were happy with Izuku, you were happy with the family you had built based off of something you never thought would give you so much happiness.

However, the thought that Katsuki still thought about you in such a way made you uncomfortable. Of course you couldn’t deny that you and Katsuki had had sex before nor the fact that at some point in your life you did fantasize about being Mrs Bakugou, but not anymore. That was the past.

You nodded your head. “I understand your anger, Izuku. I don’t like it either.”

He motioned to you, relieved and glad that you understood his point. “Thank you.” He let out with a sigh. “I never liked having him here, but because our kids are friends and because I know how hard you have worked to getting peace and harbouring no ill feelings, I didn’t say anything. All I want for you is to be happy even if it means having to deal with Katsuki for a few hours, but…” Izuku stopped as he let out another sigh.

He looked to you and shook his head, completely and utterly at his end when it came to this situation. He looked almost as if he wanted to find another solution than the one he was going to give you but couldn’t see one.

“My love, I…” He paused before looking at you serious and having made up his mind. “I don’t want Bakugou anywhere in this house while he still thinks like this. I don’t feel comfortable with him here. I can’t control outside but in here… I just…”

You nodded your head understanding. You didn’t think it would come to this but you weren’t surprised. “Izuku…” You motioned to the place in bed next to you, tapping it gently with a smile. His shoulders lowered as he walked over to you, slowly before lying down beside you. You smiled at him as you ran a hand through his soft hair. “I agree.” You affirmed, half taking Izuku by surprise. “I will not allow anywhere to make you feel uncomfortable in our own home, no matter who they are. I don’t feel comfortable either so it’s okay. This is our home and we get to decide who we let inside and out of it. I respect and understand your feelings.”

Izuku closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. He rested his head on top of yours. “What about the kids?” He sighed. “I don’t want this to effect them.”

You smiled, glad that he was thinking about them. “I don’t think the younger ones care all that much. But with Toshi…” You lifted your head from off his chest and looked up at him. “Izuku, he praises the ground you walk on. Your son idolises you and he isn’t stupid either. He notices things and understands them. He’s a lot like you.” You teased with a smile. “I think if he asks, just sit down and talk to him. This is a good lesson that sometimes even if they are your friends, if they make you uncomfortable, you shouldn’t allow them into your space. He’ll understand, he listens to you.”

He nodded his head as he stared down at you. He gave you a gentle smile and put a hand to your face. You smiled, seeing those clear eyes again. “Thank you, love.” He whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry if I was rough with you. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“Izuku, it’s fine.” You shrugged it off, moving to cuddle in to him closer. “We don’t need sex to make each other feel better or at all. This,” you squeezed him tighter, earning a chuckle as he held you in his big warm arms. You leaned your head against his chest hearing his heartbeat. “This with you… in my husband’s arms like this, is much more intimate than anything else.”

He hummed, glad to hear it from you. “Hey Y/N…”

“Yah?”

“I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too, Izuku.”

-Glitch1d

[Angry Dilfs- Katsuki Bakugou]

[Angry Dilfs- Kirishima Eijiro]

Next we have Eijiro!!

#izuku midoriya x reader #mha x y/n #izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya smut #izuku midoria x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #deku vs kacchan #toxic katsuki bakugou #ex katsuki bakugou #past katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf mha #dilf deku

[alottieluv]

mdni. yandere!boyfriend!izuku x implied!fem!reader. no specific reader pronouns used, stalking, implied nsfw, love bombing, manipulation, established relationship, unedited.

you hear failed romance stories all of the time. cheating, wrong timing, or simply incompatibility. all from friends who show up to your door crying after another failed romance attempt, cousins who still seem to find a way to shit on you during family dinners and make it seem like their romance life is still better than yours.

it makes you unsure of what to think, and how to respond. but surely, you know that that could never be you, because you have izuku.

sweet, handsome izuku, whom you could only ever think of as your boyfriend who you, dare-say, love so dearly.

izuku could never cheat on you, not when he was too busy doting on you. almost every second of every day was spent with him at your side, and when he was at work, it was texts every two minutes and calls every five minutes with voicemails blowing up your inbox when you couldn't answer the phone.

then there was the compliments.

compliments. compliments. compliments.

izuku made sure the word beautiful was something you heard daily, a morning and night routine just as the sun rises and right before you fall asleep, and, of course, all those hours in-between alongside the many other affections he expresses throughout the day.

smart, talented, gentle, fashionable, adorable, gorgeous, kind.

every other second, compliments drowned you in an ocean of izuku's affection. it was sweet, so very sweet.

it was love-bombing.

you questioned the term the first time you heard your friend bring it up. "oh, love bombing? you know, it's just bombing someone with love, like giving them compliments, doing stuff for them. it all happens really fast but it's supposed to be some manipulative thing just to get someone's affection."

"oh, really?" you questioned your relationship in that moment, but only in that moment. okay, so maybe it's only been a week or two since you started dating izuku, but surely that's not what happened. izuku is just too good of a boyfriend.

and he just happens to know you so well. from stuff like your usual drink order to your nervous habits.

and little do you know, he also knows where you like to take your lunch break, the route you take home from work, how you unwind once you get home, even though you don't live together.

but that's how he learns, it's how he got to be the wonderful boyfriend you've come to love. and when he asks you to stay for the night, you'll see how he keeps the spare blankets and towels in the closet the same way you do, and folds his clothes the same way you do.

he'll make you feel good, the same way you do.

and then you'll lay in bed together afterwards, kissing and holding each other. he'll press another soft kiss to your lips, long because he wants to savor every second of your lips against his. then he'll pull away, just long enough to ask you to move in with him, and you'll say yes.

because he loves you and you love him.

he made sure of that.

#lottie writings ! ~ ☆ #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #tw yandere #yandere midoriya #yandere deku #yandere x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya x y/n #izuku x you #yandere izuku #yandere midoriya x reader #yandere deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #yandere bnha #yandere mha #pls dont send me to a mental asylum challenge #this makes me feel loved and insane but im just toxic

[attackurheart88]

Yandere Imagine #1

Imagine Stranger!yandere falling in love with you at first sight. He just sees you and bam, you're his new addiction. He starts by getting your attention. Making you trip, then helping you up, flirting with you, and finally getting your number. He does his best to seem kind sweet and perfect in your eyes. The same way he sees you.

While slowly building your trust, your yandere starts to stalk you. He finds out where you live, your workplace, your closest friends, family, social media, your habits, likes, and interests. He’ll know everything about you from your date of birth to the brand of soap you bathe with.

As you begin to trust him more and introduce him to your friends. He's making a mental list of who would stop him from being with you and all the best ways to get rid of them.

During this time Friend!yandere will get more and more touchy with you. You’ll notice his warm hand on your back whenever you walk together. The way hugs with him seem to be extra long. How he always sits right next to you with an arm around your waist.

Friend!yandere notices how your other friend looks at you. He notices all the harsh glares he sends at him whenever you're not looking.

Luckily, Friend!yandere knows just how to get rid of him. He kidnaps his rival and slowly but surely kills him while manipulating you to forget about him and cut off your other friends before they get in his way.

Friend!yandere makes sure that you have no one but him to rely on. That he's the first person you'd call if you were in danger or lonely. Friend!yandere makes sure you are hopelessly in love with him before confessing.

#yandere #imagine #chrollo x reader #mha kirishima #mha denki #kurapika #adult trio x reader #anime #anime boy #toxic attraction #fantasy #deku x reader

[bloodywings]

Okay but like, wouldn't it make sense if Deku had a victim complex?

Because like when he was bullied and picked on, it was for something that he had no control over.

Meaning that he is used to always being the victim, I can't think of any scenario where something happened that was his fault, that he did out of malicious intent.

Sooo what about if he was in a relationship? Would he constantly believe that he is no where near at fault, even if he is?

Would he go to his friends and play his significant other out as the bad guy, even if he was completely in the wrong?

This one might be a stretch, but what if he were to cheat? Would he pin the blame on the person he cheated with? Or maybe even his significant other?

Based off of his trauma, I can't picture him seeing himself as the villain in any scenario.

But idk, maybe I'm crazy lol

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #anime and manga #i hate it here #bnha #angst #toxic!deku #manipulator!deku #cheater!deku #i made this at 4am when i was supposed to be sleeping lmao #mha deku #deku x reader #deku x reader angst #fanfic #mha fanfiction #mha headcanons #mha drabbles #idk i was bored #idk what tags to use

[thetreefairy]

Imagine reader is a part of some dance group or a band and she’s the only girl there, how would yanderes Deku and Tanjiro(Separate an d romantic) react?

Now this is the y/n life most k-pop fans want (I had that fase as well lol, I feel embarresed).

she/her reader tw: reader being very platonic with her band mates

The way to kill stans

Midoriya Izuku (aged up, Deku)

Reader is the lead singer and the sub guitarist for a popular band, but Reader was the only girl

Izuku and Reader got in a relathionship, Izuku mainly hiding his yandere tendencies.

Well he does infantalize her, but that's a different story

Reader asked Izuku: "Izuku~ could you come to my next show?" Izuku was shocked, her bandmates didn't really like him a lot.

But that was because they are kinda like big brothers to Reader

And they are overprotective.

"Of course! Is there a special reason?" Reader nodded. "Some stans have been creating dating rumours, and we would like to invite our s/o's to the stage and show that those rumours are false." Reader started to ramble.

Midoriya smiled, now everyone will know who Reader belongs to :D

"What should I do, darling?"

Tanjiro (modern au)

Tanjiro adores reader's singing!

Reader was kidnapped, but Tanjiro and Reader made a deal :D

Reader's bandmates adored Tanjiro

But due to dating rumours, Tanjiro was kinda annoyed

"Tanjiro~ please come to the show~!" Reader begged and some bandmates were also begging him and their s/o's

Nezuko started to bounce up and down.

"Can I come too, sister-in-law~!?"

"Why of course." The bandmates told Nezuko, the only single one winked at Nezuko.

"Of course, what should I do, my love?"

I hope you like it~!

#yandere mha #soft yandere #yandere x darling #treefairy🧚‍♂️🍁 #fluff #male yandere #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere kny #demon slayer #yandere demon slayer #band #music #tw yandere #yandere deku #yandere tanjiro #toxic fans

[marsconer]

a compilation of my best #

#i simp for bakugou and its on my maniac pixie dream girl complex #i hate writing #but if you say you hate the straight ships i will assume you have internalized mysoginy #avery’s anger issues could make bakugou katsuki feel like a failure #tom riddle uses the toxic boyfriend handbook #hinaclara is literally everything for me #basically an reader x hinata fic from other characters pov #enj is actually a genderdless angel and presents as they wish #i love them but it’s not fictional or sustainable #no but really i love that trickerster boy #i like this fandom but we make a lot with a few lines and a minute of screentimw #and aegon and alicent relationship is so complex because she wasn’t ready to be a mom and he wasn’t ready to be a son #aemond that lost an eye but gained a brother. #mulciber is a chaotic force of nature and lestrange is duck tape holding everything together #deku: why?? you: for thw aesthetic babe? dont you love me? *looks up from heart shaped sunglasses #dabi: you got me leather jacket?? #as in he’s a good character not a good person #he’s a stupid little boy who gets murder as a treat

[killsaki]

aspirations ☆ your boss doesn’t understand why you let unimportant things hold you back when you can do better.

prohero!bakugou katsuki x f!sidekick!reader

3.8k words | old commission <3 | minors dni

cw / tw : cheating (not on reader), toxic relationship dynamics (not w/ bkg), fingering, blackmail, power dynamics.

this is… awkward.

bakugou katsuki feels awkward.

even in his pro-hero status, even with his usual lack of care for others and their affairs, standing at the door of his office, hearing you cry just outside of it... it’s the first time in a long time that he’s been made so… uncomfortable.

you’d come halfway across the country to work as a sidekick at the agency he ran with his old classmate, you were a promising upcoming hero who would surely do numbers once you got the right exposure and the right training. that’s the reason you picked up and moved so damn far from your hometown, from your life, from your boyfriend. at least that’s what you’ve babbled on about to bakugou while the two of you were on patrols.

you were under the impression you’d be working under deku at first and when you’d found out you were going to be working alongside dynamight you’d nearly pissed yourself and gone home, you admitted while slapping his shoulder with a laugh. something which you instantly apologized for and smoothed a hand over where you’d hit as if you’d caused the tank of a man any harm and needed to soothe the pain. you’d admit that he was far from the personality he portrayed for the media and that you’d come to enjoy being around him.

that’s why this was so weird for him. you were always so positive, a clumsy sort of happy. you were always shining, continuing conversations with him even as he shrugged you off, always laughing and tossing some kind of witty remark after he’d tell you to shut up. you were annoying at some point, but you’d pulled your weight during missions and you were a shoulder for him to lean on when he got injuries too severe to keep himself upright. you made the halls of the agency a friendlier place than they’d ever been, even with the kind and smiling hero working just on the other side of the building.

so, who could make someone like you weep like a child?

“you know i get paid in a few days, i can send it back to you.” you speak through a shaky breath and bakugou can’t help but lean closer to the thin wood that separates the two of you. “it’s not like that!” you hiccup, “you’re the one who asked if you could keep my car until i can help you get yours fixed.” the white in front of him blurs as he sorts through his thoughts, who could you possibly be having to explain yourself to? “toru, please. i just want to go to sleep, today was hard enough already.” the boyfriend. “so you really won’t pay for my uber because you’re mad about a picture of me and my boss? a picture of us doing our–”

bakugou doesn’t know why he does it, why he swings the door open and stares at you with such an annoyed expression. but he’s already doing it before he realizes and he regrets it when you jump, cutting yourself short.

“sorry,” you stare at him for a moment, taking in short breaths before you quickly wipe your face, and turn away from him. sniffling as the voice over the other end starts to become intelligible to the hero. “i just wanna get home, i’m just.. i’m sorry.”

there’s a short reply given and then, silence. it takes you a minute, and bakugou stands there waiting the entire time before you pull your phone away from your ear. the screen displaying your wallpaper, signaling that the other person had ended the call.

“i didn’t know you were still here.” you look up at one of the only fluorescent lights left on, blinking away the remnants of water in your eyes.

he sighs, checking the time on his watch before looking back up at you who has yet to spare him another glance. the trains had stopped running long ago, he didn’t need to check the time to tell him that. no, he was just checking to see how fucked up your boyfriend had to be to leave you walking on the streets at the hour, or in the hands of a stranger to get home. and it’s not that you weren’t capable on your own, more so that the guy didn’t understand how much danger it’d be if someone picked up on that pattern and took advantage of you being so tired from a full day's work. he wonders if even you have thought about that. or if that’s what you were thinking about now, as you stand in silence in a way that he’s never witnessed you do before

“i can give you a ride.” he offers and your eyes fall shut, a deep breath making your chest puff slightly and the blonde can’t help but pick up on your relief.

“i’d appreciate that.”

it’s a long, awkward walk out of the agency’s building to where he’s parked his car nearly a block away. the wind is blowing and he couldn’t imagine having to walk home himself like this.

“why don’t you park at the agency’s lot?” you ask arms wrapped around yourself. your voice is still soft but he doesn’t comment on it.

“safer for me not to, i change parking spots every few weeks.” he shrugs.

“you sure do think about everything, don't you, dynamight?” you tease, and it’s like you’re recovering bits of yourself that he can recognize.

“guess so.” he shrugs instead of lecturing you about how you should do the same, another thought too busy working it’s way from his mind to his mouth. “so why are you paying to fix his car while he uses yours?” bakugou lets his thoughts fall off his tongue, and answers your wandering mind that he did overhear most of your conversation.

“i have the job that pays more.” you reach for the seatbelt, buckling it before looking over the console and catching the red eyes that watch you so intently. “why? you looking for a cause to donate to?”

he sucks his teeth and buckles himself in, instructing you to put in your address on the car’s screen. you say something that makes yourself laugh as you lean in to do it, but it goes in one of his ears and out the other. it didn’t make any sense for you to be with someone who didn’t support you fully, someone who didn’t trust you. sure bakugou didn’t know all the details of your relationship– maybe you’d offered it up to him one day when he was too focused on how your eyes lit up to pay attention to what you'd been saying to him. but he wouldn’t know that now.

why would you of all people put up with that?

“are you gonna take me home or should i be fearing for my safety?” you raise your eyebrows to exaggerate a skeptical look, something that the blonde’s face twists up and makes you laugh. but the thought of your tears streaked face earlier appears back in his mind and he decides to let you off without a remark of his own.

“you could’ve just asked for a ride.” he glances over at you once he rolls up to a stop light and his heart feels like, just for a moment, that it stops. the sight of you under such soft red light, lips still swollen from the way you’d bitten them as you calmed yourself from crying, it does more to him than he’d like to admit. it takes everything in him to tear his gaze back to the road once the traffic signal turns green.

“if toru found out i was alone with you outside of work, let alone in your car,” you huff out an unamused laugh and it sounds awful in comparison to the sweet, hearty one he’s grown used to. “he would have a fit.”

“sounds like a real perfect guy.” bakugou doesn’t look at you as he follows the gps and turns the next corner, but he can feel your eyes on him. how they trace from the neons shining off his wristwatch up his toned arms that are littered in pink scars, can feel the heat of your stare when it’s guided to his chin where he wonders if you can see the stubble he didn’t care enough to shave away this morning.

“he’s alright.” you finally respond and it makes the prohero next to you feel ill. “my high school sweetheart and all… i’m sure it’s just a rough patch.”

“right.” it wasn’t his place to meddle into whatever you have going on in your personal life. but you were one to look at the brighter side of things, he wonders if that was something you’d always done or something you forced yourself into. “a rough patch.”

the time of arrival for the destination keeps creeping closer and bakugou doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so badly.

“thanks for the ride home, mr dynamight, sir.” you salute him and he just blinks, making you giggle as you gather your things from his car.

“bakugou,” he takes your cup from his console, despite the passing thought that the colors look nice against the ones of his car’s interior. “calling me bakugou outside the workplace is fine.”

you hesitate before taking the cup, and he hates the smile that creeps up on your face when you finally do grab it from him. why the hell would he say something unprofessional like that?

you skip off with a “goodnight, mr. bakugou, sir.” and head up to your front door without catching the sight of how dramatically he rolls his eyes, or the slight lift of his lips when he thinks about how your voice sounds addressing him as something other than his trademarked name.

and from there, it’s a slippery slope, he comes to realize.

one ride turns into twenty and soon enough he’s sitting in his office chair every night waiting for you to come to tell him that you’re ready to go home.

he finds the same kind of habit forms around your shared lunch break when the two of you are working in the office rather than on the field. you’d always walked past his office, but after a comment on one of those drives to your place, you’d started to welcome yourself into his office to compare lunches. and now he can't seem to bring himself to take a bite until you’ve wandered in and finished your bit.

like now, he sits with the same lunch he’s been eating since monday because he meal prepped this week, and he needs you to come in and tell him how boring it must be eating the same thing over and over. his fingertips pad impatiently at the wood of his desk, you're always in here by now.. now that he thinks about it, you hadn’t come to ask if his coffee was bitter after getting it for him this morning.

his phone buzzing in his slacks pulls him from the thought and throws him into another one.

deku: hey, i know you’re being kind to the sidekick and all… but didn’t you say her boyfriend would be mad if he knew you were giving her rides? you should think about how that would affect her working here.

the blonde sighs and he doesn’t even want to respond to the message. he’s already on edge after starving off his lunch, plus the fact you’re not being normal today, why is midoriya suddenly interested in how your professional relationship affects your at home life?

bakugou: would you rather some villain stalk her schedule and kidnap the sidekick that you requested to come out here?

he types out, and he’s right. he knows he’s right, he’s keeping you safe by picking you up and dropping you off from his car's undisclosed location.

deku: that’s not what i meant

bakugou taps the side of his phone as the three dots come and go as midoriya no doubt types up a paragraph that bakugou will most likely not read. where the hell are you?

bakugou: i’m just making sure she gets home alright.

he sends, hoping it’ll be enough to end the conversation. he locks his phone and places it on the table next to his meal, the meal that, after eyeing the door once more, he starts to dig into. it’s a few minutes before he gets the next notification, but when he reads it, he’s stuck staring at the chair you’re supposed to be in while he finishes eating.

deku: are you sure that’s all it is?

—

the two of you have grown close. that much is obvious to everyone who witnesses you by his side. he wouldn’t call himself fond of you, but he knows it’d be a lie to say he hates your presence, or that he doesn’t mind the absence of it. what he doesn’t understand is why the feeling in his chest is so intense when you walk in for your routine ride home with a blank expression and a single piece of paper in your hand.

“what is this?” he accepts it as you offer, and he’s half expecting it to be some stupid printed-out meme, or maybe even you showing off an email about a magazine cover that you landed. but instead, it’s formally addressed to him as–

“my letter of resignation.”

to say bakugou is confused is an understatement.

“i enjoyed working by your side. it was an experience i am sure will forever remain unmatched in my career.” your voice is shaking. the blonde tries to focus on the words in ink in front of him but nothing seems to register even as he eyes them over and over. “i’m very thankful for the time i was allowed to spend here, please don’t think otherwise. i’ll be sure to thank mr. deku as well for giving me the opportunity since–”

“why are you leaving?” his words come harsh, his face twisted up in a way he’s never shown to you and he’s not surprised when even then you don’t finch much.

“i need to go back home.” is all you let out, looking everywhere but at him.

he sits on it for a moment, that feeling in his chest starts to swell as he realizes the motives behind your actions today, behind this damn resignation letter.

“don’t you wanna be a big name pro?” he discard the paper on his desk as he pushes himself out of his chair to approach you. “so why are you throwing away your best chance— your only real chance at that for some small-town boyfriend?”

your eyes go wide as they tear from the back of his computer monitor to look into his own. the look of offense on your face is prominent but it’s nothing in comparison to the offense bakugou feels.

“it’s so much more than just my boyfriend.” you scoff, eyebrows knitting together. “what would you know?! you’re just my boss, you have no idea what my relationship is like.”

he’s never seen you mad before, you look… good.

“i know you’re sending money back home to cover his expenses. i know you’re paying for everything you have here all on your own.” he steps towards you with each sentence, making you take a step back in time with his strides. “i know he doesn’t check to see if you make it home safe, i know you’ve slept on the floor because you can’t afford furniture and food.”

you might not have told him much about your boyfriend, but he does know that he doesn’t deserve you... not the way that bakugou does.

“i never told you any of that..” your hand feels for the arm of the couch you’ve been backed into.

“you’re obvious.” he shrugs and it’s now that you start to breathe in short pants, your eyes dart to the door— unlocked but closed. then to his chest— he’s big, much bigger than you, stronger than you. “the last thing i would do is hurt you.” he tilts his head and your breathing clams, if only a little.

“sorry, i don’t know what i was thinking.” you whisper, you bring a hand to your forehead as you fall to sit on the arm of the couch. “today has just been... it’s been too much.”

bakugou nods. he hasn’t seen you cry since the first time he cared to listen to you speak. he doesn’t want to see that again, but he’d be bitter if the chance of it was taken away from him altogether.

“but you’ll stay.”

“i– i can’t stay. i’ll lose toru, i’ll lose the house,” you start gesturing around at nothing, voice sounding hollow. “i can’t stay bakugou.”

“if you go there’ll be nothing waiting for you.” he shrugs, grabbing your hands when they freeze. “i have toru’s information already. i’ll send him one of the many pictures you’d decided to take on my phone, while you were in my car.” the words taste awful off bakugou’s tongue but he doesn’t stop speaking them.

“why would you?” he can’t bring himself to look at your expression anymore.

“i wouldn’t even need to say anything then, i think that’d be enough.” you make a choked sound and he’s sure there are tears in your eyes. “so you’ll stay here.”

“that’s not fair.” your hands fall limp in his hold and he finally looks at you, the tears stream down your face and bakugou doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore.

“your boyfriend’s in the way of your dream.” he swallows, convincing both you and himself but his sure tone never falters. “you can’t do anything for yourself if you go back to him. you can’t accomplish anything unless you’re here,” you blink away the tears, big eyes staring up at him. “unless you’re with me.”

you take in a shaky breath through trembling lips but nod all the same. you lean forward to rest against bakugou’s hard abdomen, your hands falling from his hold as you move. he has to stop himself from letting out a smug chuckle at the way you instantly come to him for comfort, to think you’d almost slipped through his hands.

“i’m tired of thinking about this.” you hiccup and throw yourself back on the cushions with one arm thrown over your eyes. parts of yourself that bakugou could recognize returning once again, only the way your head rolls to your shoulder and the look in your eyes as you peek up at him is something he’s never seen from you before. “help me?”

what you’d been alluding to is made clear when you reach out a hand for him, one that he doesn’t hesitate to take. he doesn’t even bother to speak any other word before he’s pressing his lips into your own, strong arms maneuvering you on the uncomfortable faux leather so quick it makes a loud noise as your skin rubs against it. he nearly moans at the way your arms wrap around his neck, the way they tangle into and tug at his hair while he slots himself between your legs.

the instant you press your hips up against him, he realizes how wrong he’s been. bakugou does favor you, he favors everything about you. he favors the way you talk shit to him, the way you laugh, the way you roll your eyes, how differently you act in interviews versus in his office, and he favors more than anything how you feel pressed up against him.

he all but tears your shirt off of you, and then your pants, both thrown to a grave somewhere on the rugged floor. his hands are rough as they glide down your body. his pads press in between your collarbones down between your breast, round your ribs, and down to squeeze at your hips.

“hurry up,” you whine, bringing your heel up to push at the waistband of his pants.

“always rushin’ me.” he sucks his teeth, but his voice is soft as he speaks.

he shivers at the sounds you make from his fingers gliding along the seat of your panties, barely damp, likely from your nerves— but bakugou can fix that. kisses are pressed to your neck, something much sweeter than anyone would expect, aside from of course you. you, the sweet little thing who saw past the hard shell everyone else encased him in, though he didn’t do much to prevent it.

his thumb finds its way to your clit, pressing circles on it through the fabric and your head falls back against the cushions, small gasps and whines following his every movement. it’s not until you start to push against him that he finally pulls your underwear to the side.

your sounds easily double in volume when he finally makes contact with your heat directly, a few more wet shapes rubbed into your clit before his fingers trail down to your entrance and you pull him by his hair from your neck, forcing him into a kiss while he presses a single thick digit into you. he rolls his wrist, hoping to stretch you a bit more before adding another, but your desperate hands wind into his shirt and he can’t help but give in.

he adds another and scissors them inside you, prodding to find that spot that had your lips parting, mind and body have given up on being able to kiss him as the pleasure takes over you. you’re dripping down his hand by the time you start babbling nonsense, and it’s all he can do to fuck his fingers into you despite the way you claw at his back, how your legs squeeze around him, and your pussy clamps down on him.

and when his name tumbles out somewhere along your nonsense as you cream down into his palm, for the first time in a long time, bakugou feels warm inside, something beyond the heat between his legs.

he lets you hold him while your breathing settles, even keeps his fingers inside you as you come back down to earth. he wants so bad to fuck you right now, to have you cry his name again and again as you make a mess on his cock this time... but he also wants to never let you move from under him, to keep himself wrapped around you at all times.

“i don’t wanna sleep on the floor anymore,” you whisper, and the blonde wonders how your boyfriend would feel if he knew that forcing you to turn in a resignation would lead to you being putty in his hands.

“come sleep at my place.”

you nod against him and, slowly, he helps to clean and dress you before you let him drag you off the couch.

“you’re always so helpful, baku’.” you rub your eyes as you lean against him, mindlessly following him to the car you’d been mistaken to get months ago.

but bakugou will later reiterate his intention were just truly just to help. just like when it came to officially end your relationship with toru, which would happen tonight after bakugou sends the loser a picture of you fast asleep in the same bed as pro hero dynamight—right where you should be.

#bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x you #bnha x reader #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #my hero x reader #my hero smut #boku no hero smut #boku no hero x reader

[yanderenightmare]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI MASTERLIST

Ranging from my top Bakugou post to posts with notes above 1k.

Boss ! Bakugo going yandere for his helpful assistant:

WANTS & NEEDS ♡6.6k

Yandere captor ! Bakugou punishes darling for a crime she didn’t commit and then regrets it:

WRONGLY PUNISHED ♡5.8k

FOLLOW-UP ASK ♡2.2k

Darling uses sex as a coping mechanism:

DARLING INITIATING SEX ♡4.8k

Hero ! Bakugou x Villain ! Deku x childhood friend ! darling:

RENUNION ♡3.7k

Cock descriptions:

COCK ♡3.7k

What BNHA ! yandere is the scariest:

SCARY YANDERE ♡3.5k

Bully ! Bakugou creeps on his quirkless study partner:

STUDY-SESSIONS ♡3.3k

Bully ! Bakugo is scary and pushy and delusional:

BAD GUY ♡3k

Fuckfriend ! Bakugou turned yandere:

BORING ♡2.8k

Alpha ! Bakugou figures out why he bullies Omega reader:

LESSON ♡2.8k

HEAT ♡1.3k

Bully ! Bakugo series. He harasses the reader into a relationship:

SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL ♡2.7k

TRUST ME ♡2.1k

Boyfriend ! Bakugou headcanons:

BOYFRIEND ! KATSUKI ♡2.7k

Poly ! KiriBaku bullies cute darling:

BAD INFLUENCE ♡2.6k

Poly ! BakuDekuTodo x darling thirsts:

BAKUDEKUTODO X DARLING ♡2.6k

BAKUDEKUTODO X DARLING ♡1.3k

POLY ♡1.6k

Prince ! Bakugou x maid ! dalring:

PRINCE x MAID ♡2.6k

Imagines of what happens when the darling tries to deny the BNHA ! yanderes intimacy and sex:

BAKUGOU ♡2.4k

Bully ! Bakugo x poor ! darling:

IN CASE OF FIRE: PUSH ALARM ♡1.4k

IN THE TRAILER ♡2.3k

FOLLOW-UP ASK

Barbarian King ! Bakugo arranged marriage with princess ! darling:

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST ♡2.3k

Yandere captor ! Bakugou reacting to pregnant darling:

PREGNANT DARLINGS ♡2.3k

Overworked and touch-starved Prohero ! Bakugou x girlfriend ! darling:

ONE MORE TIME? ♡2.2k

Yandere captor ! Bakugou with a darling who enjoys being his darling:

DARLING ENJOYS BEING A DARLING ♡2k

Bakugou and darling's sexual role-play dynamic:

ROLE-PLAY DYNAMICS ♡1.9k

Yandere captor ! Bakugo x pet ! darling:

PET ! DARLING IN HEAT ♡1.8k

AFTERMATH OF PET ! DARLING IN HEAT ♡1.5k

BRATTY PET-DARLING ♡1.1k

Yandere captor ! Bakugou x darling with early Stockholm syndrome:

EARLY STOCKHOLM SYNDROME ♡1.7k

Yandere captor ! Bakugou wants captive darling to be willing:

WILLINGLY OR NOT ♡1.7k

Poly Proheroes ! BakuDeku blackmails criminal ! darling:

STREET SCUM ♡1.7k

Bully ! Bakugou redemption, being charming with darling and asking her out:

GIRLFRIEND ♡1.6k

Sheriff ! Bakugou harasses backpacking tourist:

HIS TOWN, HIS RULES ♡1.6k

Yandere captor ! Bakugou's need for intimacy:

INTIMATE ACTIVITIES ♡1.6k

Bakugou having a breeding kink for his crush:

BREEDING KINK ♡1.6k

Yandere captor ! Bakugou cleaning darling’s cuts after she tries killing herself:

CUTS & BANDAGES ♡1.6k

Childhood friend Bakugou and you have been stuck in a toxic relationship forever:

NO ONE ELSE ♡1.6k

Pro Hero ! Bakugou regrets not making you his before it was too late:

MISERABLE ♡1.5k

Bakugou's type:

SUBMISSIVE DARLING ♡1.5k

Alpha ! Bakugou mating his terrified Omega ! darling:

Five Steps for Alphas Mating Omegas ♡1.5k 

Prohero ! Bakugou going yandere for childhood friend ! spy ! darling:

EMPTY SHELLS ♡1.5k

Poly wolf-boys ! BakuDeku with a bunny ! darling in heat:

HEATED ♡1.5k

Daddy ! Bakugou punishes his darling for not following her strict schedule:

RULEBREAK ♡1.5k

Yandere captor ! Bakugou x clumsy ! darling:

CLUMSY DARLING ♡1.5k

How yandere captor ! Bakugou punishes his darling:

PUNISHMENTS ♡1.4k

Sadistic yandere Bakugou chases you down after you escape:

BEAR-TRAP ♡1.4k

Poly ! KiriBaku are a toxic duo for poor captive ! darling:

BAD COP/GOOD COP ♡1.4k

Alpha ! Bakugou finally finding his rebel ! Omega ! mate:

MUD ♡1.3k

Prohero ! Bakugou lusting over his equally successful childhood friend:

PROFESSIONAL ♡1.3k

Yandere captor Bakugou with a depressive darling:

MELANCHOLIA ♡1.2k

Incel ! Bakugou kidnaps reader to be his sex-puppet:

TOUCH ♡1.2k

Bakugou smut alphabet:

NSFW ABCs ♡1.2k

Bakugo frustrate with his affection over this clueless moron:

SCARY LOVE ♡1.1k

Bakugou's darling puts on his hero costume:

PLAYING DRESS-UP ♡1.1k

Yandere captor Bakugou's likes cooking with his darling:

HOBBIES ♡1.1k

Yandere captor Bakugou's sleeping habits:

SLEEPING HABITS ♡1.1k

Bully ! Bakugou being heartbroken and desperately in love with you:

HEARTBROKEN ♡1.1k

Yandere captor Bakugou spanking reader:

DADDY'S GIRL ♡1.1k

Yandere captor Bakugou with tiny darling:

PUFF ♡1.1k

How Bakugou became yandere for his darling:

YANDERE BEGINNINGS ♡1.1K

Hermit forest-dweller ! Bakugou takes lost hiker ! darling captive:

HERMIT ♡1k

BNHA genderbender:

FEM ♡1k

Bakugou teaches you how to cum:

STRUGGLE ♡1k

Bully Bakugou kidnaps you during the purge:

THE PURGE ♡1k

Parole officer Bakugou accepts your bride:

OUR LITTLE SECRET ♡1k

Yandere captor Bakugou infantilizes darling:

DADDY'S BABY ♡1k

Captive reader rebels against yandere captor Bakugou:

GONE WRONG ♡1k

The Torodoki family makes use of their quirkless daughter - with friends:

FAMILY FUN ♡1k

What type of hybrid he is:

HYBRID ♡1k

Sad and lonely stalker Bakugou:

DRIVEN MAD ♡1k

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[platrom]

One Last Chance.

Midoriya x F! Reader, Bakugou x F! Reader (partially/eventually)

WORD COUNT: 20.7k words

NOTE: Here is the ending to OLT. What do you all think? Please leave me some comments!!

If you guys would like to see side stories to this or have some questions, please send some asks! My inbox is always open. And if you have any other story ideas, please request as well.

TW: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, flashback scenes, hospital setting, mentions of prior and current injuries, death, talk about perceptions of death, mentions of suicide attempt/suicide, fluff, therapy, Bakugou has undergone therapy, childhood best friends, toxic friendships, unrequited love, happy ending, the voice leaves, a new voice appears (is personified), reader has a panic attack in a fancy restaurant, reader and Shoto are friends, Bakugou has genuine friends, the reader is loved, kind of ambiguous parts in the ending (must read first part to understand it), reader confronts Midoriya, reader kisses Bakugou

THIS STORY MUST BE READ WITH THE FIRST PART— IT IS NOT A STAND ALONE.

PART 1 / PART 2 (HERE)/IMPORTANT ASK

BAKUGOU OBSERVED your shaken figure as it faded into the distance, head hung low and fists clenched in agony. When you first pulled away from him and continued onward, your feet tapped lightly against every slab of concrete you trekked on, until after a few yards your brisk walk bursted into a hurried sprint. Nobody nor anything was spared a second glance as you fled from his presence.

Candidly, he couldn’t blame you. Bakugou had overstepped your boundaries and attempted to plow through the brick walls you had built around yourself for the sake of your welfare. He understood how you felt and how overwhelming such an invasion of privacy was, notably with his straightforward approach. Bakugou was notorious for diving headfirst into situations, but that didn’t mean it was invariably appropriate.

For instance, now.

Howbeit, he didn’t know what else to do. Bakugou may have gone through years of therapy and anger management courses (thanks to that spiky-haired idiot), but that didn’t mean he knew how to confront everyone about their personal endeavors.

Tackling his own issues differed from helping others address theirs. He had friends, family, and a therapist to talk him through his problems and conjure solutions with. Even his fellow colleagues wouldn’t mind lending a comforting shoulder for Bakugou to lean on; the people around him had read countless books on how to support loved ones who were struggling.

Bakugou had a support system that took years to discover, expand, and wholeheartedly trust. With thousands of hours of therapy under his belt, he was blessed with tools to aid him in the gloomiest and sunniest of days, with or without his therapist by his side.

In comparison, you were not armed with the same lessons and techniques as he was.

Not yet, at least.

Bakugou wanted to change that.

For all of his years of friendship with you, he analyzed your growth and development as a person: how you went from an adorable and frivolous child who was insouciant to the prying eyes of others into a beauteous, percipient young lady who shied away from any unforgiving glares. He remembered how decades ago you, him, and Deku would tussle around in your childhood playground’s decrepit sandbox playing Heroes.

Bakugou had invented the game when you and Deku had been laying against one of the thick blue poles that held up a patent yellow slide incised by impetuous teenagers that lurked around the park at the perturbing time of midnight. To his dismay, despite being in front of you both, none of you batted an eyelash at him. He wasn’t even aware of what you two were discussing, but all he cognized was that the ongoing chatter between you and the freckled nerd was irritating him and he wanted your attention instanter.

Looking back, Bakugou could admit that it was an impulsive suggestion and injudicious decision. In contrast to what any other sensible child or person would have done, as soon as the words ‘Let’s play heroes, Deku and (Name)!’ escaped Bakugou’s lips, the green-haired idiot accepted the request instantly, so eager to please Katsuki. On the other hand, you simply watched in silence as Bakugou beamed in pride with his hands on his hips and Deku enthusiastically pumped his arms in the air, jumping and squealing in both anticipation and delight.

Years after, Bakugou eventually understood why you sat quietly that day and made no move to even consider rejecting the idea. Exactly like Midoriya, you shadowed Bakugou’s footsteps and obliged to his every whim. Yet, unlike Deku, you didn’t quite concur with his exclamations even inside your head and heart. Cleverly, you chose to keep your mouth shut and follow in step because it caused you less trouble than if you voiced your opinion.

That didn’t exactly mean you always emulated that similar action and thought process. There were at times you spoke against Bakugou when you knew you would be reprimanded the least or experience little to no consequences.

Bakugou couldn’t deny that he didn’t enjoy those quirks of yours: your fight, your spunk— your tactical and logical thinking. They all were your qualities that Bakugou internally commended you for.

As children, whenever you three played Heroes, Bakugou forced you to take the role of the damsel in distress. Due to your bestowed position as a distressed maiden, the ash blond referred to you as “Princess” often, both during and outside the game. With every fictional mission the two boys conjured, they intended to save you from villains (which happened to be figurines of heroes with a small piece of dark cloth draped over it).

When Bakugou wanted to impress you (and spite the green-haired bastard), after he and the nerd rescued you, he would hoist you off your feet and carry you bridal style, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. Boastfully and vaingloriously, he would exclaim to the other boy with a smug grin, “This is how a real princess should be treated, Deku!”

The young boy would stare in awe, analyzing how Bakugou kept a firm grip on you and refused to let you take a step on your own, despite your occasional protests.

And the times when a small giggle would be heard near Katsuki’s chest, widened vermillion eyes would snap to your face and watch as you grinned up at him, eyes sparkling, glowing, and filled with adoration. Your ridiculously sweet and unfaltering smile never failed to make his chest puff out in pride, cheeks warm in fluster, and heart pound faster.

Katsuki craved to see that expression on your face again.

He yearned to be the one who flipped your entire world upside down and set you anew. Like a festering disease, that ardent desire plagued his heart. It urged Bakugou to be the hero in your life and pillar of strength- the one you were able to lean on for stability when your walls of welfare began to crumble and crash.

When you were merely arm’s reach away, at times in that freckled-dork’s arms, an unremitting voice rung remorselessly in his ears, imploring for him to pull you into his chest and conceal you from the world, to cradle your supple face between his callused palms and tenderly stroke your cheek in hopes his actions could describe an ounce of his perennial love for you. The vexatious voice begged Bakugou to press his lips against yours to convey all the unspoken emotions he could not fathom formulating into lucid and complete sentences.

Katsuki wanted all of the pieces of you: brain, body, and soul.

In bed, during the hours of dusk until dawn, Bakugou’s mind conjured vivid imaginations of a domestic life with you. In many of the scenarios, Katsuki would already be at home in the spacious kitchen, preparing dinner for you both before you returned after a strenuous day at work. Whatever meal he was cooking didn’t matter; you would love his cooking anyway.

He would be so absorbed with cooking that he wouldn’t hear the sound of the door lock clicking open, or the rustling of your clothes as you stripped off your coat. Your lethargic steps would fall on deaf ears as you snuck behind Katsuki, the corner of your lips curling in satisfaction and glee at the aromatic fragrance wafting throughout the house and at the sight of him cooking, no less in the apron you had gifted him for Christmas at the start of his hero career. The apron was black and had the words “THE BOMB” splayed across his chest in thick, white cursive.

Without hesitation, you would pounce onto Bakugou and smush your face into his back, wrapping your arms around his waist. He would quietly hum as you sighed and relaxed into his cozy warmth, mumbling a word of greeting.

After, small bits of chatter would be exchanged between you two until your voices died down and a comforting silence would permeate your shared home.

Eventually, when Bakugou would feel your eyelashes flutter shut as you fruitlessly essayed to stay awake and on your toes, he would lightly smack the top of your head with a wooden spoon and chide you to get your oil-stained arms off his apron and shower before he finished dinner.

The dopey grin that would spread across your adorable face would leave butterflies flittering in his stomach and blood rushing to the tips of his ears. When you noticed his bashful expression, you would raise your calves and wrap your arms around Bakugou’s neck to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, before escaping his clutches as he processed your actions.

Irritatingly, he would wave a wooden spoon in the air menacingly at your retreating figure, screaming, “You shitty woman, if you’re going to kiss me, do it properly!”

Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man; he knew that just as well as anybody else. All of his life, he took everything he could and prospered with whatever resources he had. Everything he did was done in his favor, to his advantage. The cost of his actions and behavior was never significant to him. Even presently, as a hero, he didn‘t bat an eye to his brash language on television or crass attitude. He never spared a second thought about what he did or was going to do.

Until now, when your life, your fate, was placed directly into the palm of his destructive, blood-shedding hands.

If he pursued the direction of which you ran and found you, what would happen to the two of you? To him? To you?

What were the rewards and the risks? Would possibly risking your life be worth it? If push came to shove and you threatened your life, could he save you?

His quirk wasn’t built for the typical rescue training; Bakugou was trained to ward off villains and allow the official rescue heroes do their work. He could handle the battle— the blood, the deafening blasts and shards of glass and slabs of concrete that would fly at him, the blazing ache in his muscles, the adrenaline from fighting and the reality of his eventual, impeding death.

Yet, he wasn’t created to dive into the murky and freezing cold water of the ocean and pull civilians from the bottom. Bakugou Katsuki, Dynamight, wasn’t the one who was meant to lift fissured buildings off of civilians to allow them to escape.

Of course, Bakugou could blow things up. Though, was it really the smartest for him to possibly detonate an already ticking time bomb?

Perhaps, he wasn’t the man for this rescue. But there was somebody else who he knew was.

Bakugou whipped out his phone, scrolling past hundreds of unobtrusive contacts, most lacking a personalized profile picture. Swipe after swipe, blurs of gray passed his vision before his eyes caught the name of a man he would never willingly speak to, not even for work.

You were an exception.

Always and forever.

Tapping the telephone icon with hasty fingers, Katsuki lifted the device up to his ear and began to trace your footsteps.

In his wildest dreams, never did he picture himself dialing one of his biggest rivals over a girl he loved for decades— over a girl they loved for decades— since as long as he could remember.

A confused voice answered on the other end. “Kacchan?”

“Deku,” Bakugou sighed, teeth gritting and fists clenched.

Hopefully, the world would reward him for not being selfish this once.

“I need your damn help.”

For the first time.

Contrary to popular belief, there were countless disparate ideas and thoughts of what death was like. For numerous individuals, it was foreseen as a riveting and transfixing experience. On the other hand, many voiced death to be an ongoing horror that terrorized them in the back of their minds. The twisted thoughts would trickle past the cracks of the mind, seeping into the limelight of their thoughts.

Certainly, there were opinions that fell between the lines and even strayed far from the common and classic perceptions of such an inevitable fate all would face.

Though, you had a rather specific conclusion about death.

Your declaration was that it was quite dull; banal even, considering everything to your vision (more so lack of it) was pitch black, akin to as if you had your eyelids shut— just permanently.

To be fair, you were dead. What did you expect? No one wanted to see the eyes of a rotting corpse, so it made sense that they would shut them.

You prayed your body was being prepared for your funeral. If they even found it, deep down below the surface of the ocean’s beguiling, glossy droplets of liquid transparency that lured innocent strangers to explore what was another’s liquid death.

Your death would also explain why you were frozen like a corpse. Your mouth remained clamp shut, your limbs stayed in place no matter how much you fruitlessly shrieked at your brain to move the lifeless limbs, and every inch of your body felt stone cold despite that if you were alive, warm blood would be flowing through your veins to keep you functioning.

However, there was one minor issue that made you question your predicament and if you were truly dead— you could still hear. What you were able to hear in the oblivion of black that surrounded you was debatable, but it vaguely reminded you of muffled chatter, similar to if cotton stuffed your ears.

Perhaps, if you focused enough you could distinguish the words, possibly even the syllables in hopes of discovering whether or not you had truly met death face-to-face.

All you had to do was listen- stay silent. Just like a dead person. You were dead. You could do just that with ease.

So, you let your conscious fade into the abyss of surrounding black, let the hold you had on the remnants of your soul slide lower and lower, the tight grip of your finger slipping so only the tips of them could reach the sole part of you that held you inside your body— your prison. You let the comfort of your humanity rest and the blaring silence of death deafen your ears.

Unexpectedly, the small, high-pitched voice of a child is what you hear first whose words die at the end of their sentence.

“If you need help, you can just ask for it.”

You want to ask who they are and what they’re talking about, and you try— you pull your dangling humanity closer and repeat the questions like a mantra until you’re screaming them, but they never exit your throat.

When your soul slips from your fingers again, the child remains quiet. Light footsteps begin to echo in the abyss of darkness, faintly reminding you of the days you used to spend in your room listening to rain splattering against your window, the atoms of hydrogen and oxygen splitting as they made contact with the clear surface.

This all seems like a sick, cruel joke from the universe.

Was this the voice messing with you?

Was the voice that haunted you still here with you, even in the after life?

But it didn’t sound the same.

That ominous voice in your head was your own voice. It had the exact same pitch, the same quirky pronunciations you had, even down to the accent. Possibly at first, it had been the voice of others and the words that were spat at you were theirs.

To begin, they were theirs; their crude thoughts, their deleterious words, their abhorrent statements and opinions.

Not yours, not at all.

Those noxious words laced with the deadliest of poisonous toxins gradually infiltrated your mind, the traces of their presence faint. As time passed, the once small stains became vast and covered the expanse of your once kind thoughts, turning each present one bitterer from the last. Once upon a time, the voice in your head was the voice of others.

Until it became yours.

In contrast, the speaker in the pit of eternal darkness had a voice of a naive young girl whose heart was just as pure and innocent as it was when the day she was born. It was filled with glee and utmost care, one that most lost to their greed for coin and success. Genuine people— those who constantly gave back and assisted others out of the goodness of their heart had long gone extinct, or were an endangered species. Those who got ahold of these rare beings either sunk their canines into their flesh for a finishing blow or kept them safe under their thumb, a primordial part of them vocalizing their need to keep someone so precious in the safety of their arms.

The girl moved closer to you.

“The attempt to escape pain is what creates more pain. At least, that’s what my parents tell me.”

That voice . . . It was once yours. The little girl who was speaking to you was you, or the shell of who you once were.

Although the memories of your childhood had lost their precision of detail overtime and existence as the years trudged by, you had always considered them the apex of the years you spent alive. The naivety of being a child and the blanket of being sheltered protected you from the corruption of the real world was a sensation you missed dearly.

“Instead of trying to avoid your troubles and problems, they say to resolve them so nobody gets hurt anymore!”

Your recollection of this particular encounter as a child was not the most prominent, as the once vivid and animated details of that day slowly evanesced from your brain with time.

The interaction had occurred nearly two decades ago in the commonly favored season of saccharine spring in Japan, when the sun’s rays gently kissed your skin and the soft gusts of wind weaved through your hair and brushed it back. You were there solely because the mothers in the city of Musutafu always met up during the spring to gossip about their husbands and children and revel in the scenery of blossoming Sakura flowers that swayed gingerly in the wind from their delicate stems that connected to the branches.

It hadn’t been the first time your mother had dragged you to an event like this with the enticing promise that you would be able to make new friends; that had been the deal-breaker for you. Hence, it had led you to the park funded by the richest of the local heroes and civilians.

The place could only be described in one word: perfect. Gossip from the mothers of the town declared it was kept in pristine condition by countless gardeners who would sweat over every blade of grass they sliced. The shrubbery was luscious, vibrant, and full of life. One would say it was just as youthful as the children that roamed every acre of the greenery.

The mothers had stationed themself near the entrance of the park, where the benches that were bolted into the ground to set down the dishes, snacks, and desserts they brought for everyone to snack on. Further in was the actual playground, which contained the children of the many attending mothers.

After kindly asking your mother for permission to go to the playground by yourself, you waltzed your way over.

That was where the interaction began.

You weren’t sure how you even noticed this peculiar person— nothing about them stood out. Not their hair, not their eyes, not their face.

Absolutely nothing differentiated from the rest.

That much you remembered.

Maybe it was a stroke of luck that brought you to them, that fate decided to pull your strings together and wrap a knot around you both for a moment.

They had been sobbing uncontrollably, their arms hugging their knees and small hiccups of desperate gulps of fresh air had reached your unsuspecting ears.

It was odd how out of all the children there, you were the only one who could hear their muffled cries of pain.

The background, your surroundings, the calls of the other children to return to their side as they watched you step towards the outcast was all a haze to you. You couldn’t recognize or process anything other than the child that sat alone in tears.

It was a complete blur from there.

“Forever doesn’t exist, that’s why you should apologize before it’s too late!”

Why am I remembering this now?

Tears fell that day.

When have they not?

Unspoken words lingered in the air, thick and heavy on your tongue.

How many days have been like that? How many days have I lived like them?

Your mind answers for itself.

In the past, you had labeled them minor inconveniences. They didn’t matter to you.

They were minor inconveniences, you tried to convince yourself like so many times before.

Were the tears you shed over so many lost ones just minor?

Would you just toss them away?

Would you belittle the memories of one of your former closest elementary friends, years of friendship washed away in the downpour due to a nasty little rumor spread about you? Erase the little drawings and cards they made for you, each one describing how you would be by each other’s side forever?

Would you forget about the best friend that got away, the one that was forced to move away at the end of your primary years? The walk around the field, the stories you both wrote together, the secrets you entrusted with one another— were you going to toss that all away?

Would you forget about the one who you worked vigorously to build a friendship with when everyone was forced to split ways in junior high? Did you really think so little of the late night conversations, the occasional but rather spontaneous (and sometimes one-sided) heart-to-hearts, the long hours spent chatting away, learning about a love that stemmed deeper than the plants whose roots dipped beneath the soil under your feet? What about when they had chosen to push you out of their lives— manipulating you to keep you attached?

Would you be willing to forget when the empire you had fought endlessly to build and protect collapsed on you after quakes so powerful the once granite walls fissured and crumbled right above your head when you were at your weakest?

Would the scars that remained from the knives that were stabbed into your back, your chest, your heart, finally heal? Would the nasty and discolored marks fade from your skin like water slipping down a drain?

Would you forget about your family? The ones who raised you, who were by your side, near your side, even when it felt like they were miles away?

Would you forget about those who loved you unconditionally— for every one of your flaws, mistakes, and imperfections? The loyal ones who stood close enough to catch you if you fell, even when you didn’t deserve it. Even when you took them for granted.

What about Izuku and Katsuki? The ones that at one point in your life or another, meant the world to you?

Could you erase the memory of Katsuki’s passionate carmine eyes, irises the colors of the ripest of strawberries in the patch, filled with unspoken emotions that only the most observant and attentive of people could detect? The number of fingers on your hands could not come close to totaling the indefinite amount of days you spent staring into his eyes, (e/c) piercing through the thin panes of glass behind his eyes that sheltered his heart and soul, learning lessons that words could not formulate, that he would never dare let leave his mouth.

Would those minuscule yet intimate moments with the blond escape you at last?

Ironically, your calmest and most content moments resided with the boy from your childhood who always claimed one day he would be the greatest hero in the world. These tranquil times didn’t stem from your days as kids in primary school or pre-teens in middle school, but rather when you both were studying at UA.

Unbeknownst to Midoriya and nearly the entirety of Class A, Bakugou would constantly sneak you into his room late at night when neither of you could sleep or only wanted to bask in the the other’s presence. He always grumbled and complained about the unruly times you chose to sneak out of your room and how dangerous it was for you to risk injuring yourself just to see him, but every time you countered his argument with a simple smile and a “I missed you” before proceeding to hug him tightly.

The first few times you told Bakugou this, audible explosions began to crackle from his palms and immediately he shoved you off of him (after wiping his sweaty hands on his pants) and barked curses at you. Eventually, he welcomed you silently with open arms.

During those quiet nights, you both would lay on his bed, limbs intertwined. At first, you and Katsuki sat at a distance, until he began to lay down on his bed and hissed at you to follow suit. Then, you made the first move to cuddle Bakugou after he called you over because of a nightmare— the rest was history from there.

Brushing fingertips was your first taste of intimacy with Bakugou, until he gained the courage to hold your hand. Afterwards came the long hugs. Then, those hugs transformed into Bakugou pulling your head to rest on his bicep. Next came intertwined legs and gentle caresses. And the cherry on top was when his walls finally came down and he allowed you to be his rock, the shoulder he cried on when his studies and hero work caught up to him and left him doubled over in hopelessness, desperate to put himself back together.

But what about Izuku?

What about the boy you spent practically every year of your life with, the man that plagued your mind in the early hours of dawn and the late hours of dusk?

Were you ready to remove him forever? Were you truly ready to give up on the one you loved fearlessly for all those years, even in the face of adversity?

For ages, Midoriya was your beacon of hope. When the world felt like it was caving in, when you shoved everyone out and suffered in solitude, he stood unwavering and unrelenting to listen to your command; he defied your expectations and exceeded them.

Though, good things cannot survive for eternities.

At one point Izuku Midoriya, the one who claimed your heart long ago, slowly began to fade right in front of your eyes. He prioritized his work— he made saving others the reason why he breathed.

When that realization dawned upon you and you understood that he would never fawn at you the same way you did with him, you drowned yourself.

It felt like death.

You didn’t want to think about this anymore.

I want the pain to finally end.

It was pointless to clutch onto the minuscule semblance of mortality you had left before you completely rested in the grave. If you accepted the hand the reaper held out to you, sleep would be eternal.

That’s what I always wanted, right? So take it. It’s not like I ever had anything to lose. Whatever I once owned will never be mine again.

Succumbing was always easy. Succumbing to desires always rewarded you, albeit only temporarily. It was simpler that way— to fall under the umbrella of constantly accepting demands.

“Let go.”

You did; you drank every night until you were blackout drunk.

“Hide.”

You did. You pushed everyone away and isolated yourself.

“Suffer.”

You did. You never sought out help when your thoughts became too grim and dreary to bare alone.

“End it.”

You did. You jumped off the cliff and into the ocean.

“Accept it.”

Slowly, you were.

Slowly, you let your thoughts disintegrate into the dark, emptying your mind of coherency. Of rationality, of humanity.

That lifeless feeling of iciness within you traveled across the expanse of your body until you wholeheartedly believed you had always been a glacier of ice and not once a living being.

Like a sinking boulder, you slipped from consciousness to never resurface.

And like a gentle kiss, a speck of warmth formed on your skin before disappearing.

“Please don’t leave me, (Name). I love you.”

“Don’t do that again, idiot.”

The voice is warm like apple cider on a winter day, mixed with a twinge of sweet, sugary cinnamon that permeates the expanse of your tongue. It feels so welcoming, so safe despite the harshness lingering in the undertones of the voice— akin to if a thick and heavy spoonful of honey coated your tongue like syrup flowing off a stack of fluffy and golden-brown pancakes. You craved to have the sugary sap reach the back of your mouth and slide down your throat before it saturated your system with the sticky sweetness.

A tepid and sweaty hand enveloped yours, coarse callouses sheltering the dry and peeling skin of your knuckles from the bitter cold breeze blown from the air conditioning.

More words fall deaf on your ears as the strings of consciousness tie themselves back together in effort to push you out of your drowning slumber. The soothing and homely voice continues to repeat broken and fractured phrases that you try to reach, pushing yourself out of the sinister hold of the tendrils.

Enraged by your defiant behavior, the obsidian tentacles wrap themselves around the tied strings and tug harshly in an attempt to tear you apart, to send you back to where the worst of your melancholy and despondent thoughts resided.

“Come back, don’t leave me here!” the voice cried. “You and I, we’re both the same. Wherever I go, you come with. We are one.”

Were you the same as that evil voice that had plagued your mind like a virus, worming its way into your bloodstream in hopes of controlling your body and fatally killing you?

Would you ever do that to someone?

You’d like to think not.

“You better not leave me behind. You need to be there when I become number one.”

There was that familiar voice again— it was so warm. It felt like hugging a toasty bag of freshly baked bread in the chilly morning, or sitting down on your couch with a steaming cup of hot cocoa on a rainy day, slowly sipping at the aromatic and creamy chocolate that made your stomach squeal in pleasure and delight.

You craved to feel like this forever.

With the threat of betrayal, the tendrils furiously tightened their bruising grip on your limbs, unwilling to part ways with you.

“I was there for you when nobody ever was! I stuck by your side when you isolated yourself and had nobody— when everyone ignored you!” the voice reminded you, enraged by your defiance.

Why couldn’t you just submit to it?

But weren’t you the one that caused it? If it wasn’t for you, would I really be here now?

The idea is a sudden one that sends you reeling, heart pumping and sweat beading at the top of your head. The once cozy heat that flooded your body boils, burning hotter than the fiery and explosive stars above. An audible sizzling sound can be heard where the tendrils meet your skin.

“You better fight back, damn nerd. Everyone’s been waiting for you out here— they dropped everything to come see you.”

Everyone? Your classmates and friends?

But weren’t they the ones who knew of your suffering and still refused to extend a helping hand to you?

“They all come and go, you know that. Why would you go back to them? Don’t go back on the promise you made. Just for Midoriya, remember?”

Promise? Midoriya?

Your mind was too muddled to comprehend the voice’s words.

“That dumb Deku is here too. He’s worried sick about you, wouldn’t stop blubbering like an idiot the minute he saw me.”

The sight of emerald eyes filled with tears flashes through the darkness of your mind, a blur of a murky white, lifeless black, and a faded green.

You should react— you should feel something. Anything.

But you don’t.

The imagery fades as fast as it arrives, leaving you to reside with the black of your mind. There’s no fluttering of butterflies or red rose petals swirling in the air out of the corner of your eyes. The thought of Midoriya doesn’t warm you further— it only leaves you colder than before.

In the pit of death, it’s just you and the last of your humanity.

“He never liked you anyway. You never mattered. You knew that, didn’t you?”

A meek part of you wants to disagree, argue that he had to have appreciated you at least in the slightest to have stuck around you for as long as he did. But the majority of you solemnly nods in agreement, aware of the countless times where you blindly reached out to Izuku Midoriya.

He simply tolerated you because you constantly suffocated him with your presence. Midoriya never had a mean bone in his body, he would never speak up if someone was a nuisance to him.

“Yes!” the voice hissed, delighted. Slowly but surely, you were falling prey to its hold; to the negativity it had spread wide throughout your mind.

It was only a matter of time before you succumbed.

“Wake up, (Name). Please.”

It isn’t worth it, is it?

“I know I haven’t been the best, but I’ll make it up to you. Promise. Just please, please don’t leave me.”

The warm voice cracks, its words quivering, and there’s a shaky intake of breath. It sounds pained.

“You caused that pain.”

You did, didn’t you?

“Just let it all go,” the voice sung. “Come with me and it’ll all go away. Everyone will be okay. You will be okay.”

You should.

You know you should.

You know you should finally let go. You’d lost everything. You’d lost your life and were trapped in this bottomless pit of black.

If you just let go, you could be free.

“Then do it. Stop listening. Ignore it all. Let me take over.”

There’s words that are being spoken to you from the voice beside you, some louder and intenser than the last, but you block them out. You ignore and let the ferocious tendrils wrap around you and pull you down.

The thin string that holds you together snaps.

And finally, finally, it all stops. The noise, the voices, the thoughts, the feelings, the aches and pains.

At last, it’s all over, you tell yourself.

But do you really believe it?

You would never know.

You don’t think you’ve seen this many people crowded into a single hospital room.

For you, no less.

All of the former Class A students from your years in high school have flooded your room, some of them even stuck in the doorway. From Grape Juice to Creati, the space is absolutely cramped.

Beside your bed are mountain-high piles of gifts and letters from your friends as well as others who could not attend in time for the visiting hours. Without a doubt, some of those presents contained articles of lavish and luxurious gifts you could only afford in the wildest of your dreams if you had the money of a top pro-hero. (Money that these heroes had, considering some had been born into wealthy families while others had become filthy rich after making bold headlines as heroes in the media.)

Not to mention, all their attention had been focused entirely on you since the moment you awoke.

Uraraka had been the first to pounce on you, spewing words that flew past her mouth with such vigor and rush that you could not keep up. Like a koala, she clung to you— arms wrapped around your neck in a vice and warm grip as she sobbed uncontrollably into your shoulder. Tsuyu had pried her off apologetically, but you merely continued to stare in a daze, the countless medications that they had pumped through your blood still in effect.

One by one, each visitor came up to your bedside and sat down beside you to speak while the others watched. Each interaction differed from the last.

Mina had buried your head into the crook of her necks as she brokenly whispered words of endearment and utmost adoration into your ear, rubbing your back softly as salty tears spilled from her eyes and onto the pillow behind you. Eventually, Mina clasped your face between her hands and grinned through tears at the sight of your face between her hands, further cementing the fact that you were alive and still with her.

After a couple more shared moments with some of the others, Todoroki had stepped up to you with an indecipherable expression painted onto his features before sitting down and opening his arms in a silent offer of a hug. You lifted yourself up and leaned into his hold and he held you delicately like glass, murmuring a gentle “I’m so sorry” and “Thank you for not leaving us.”

Once Todoroki left your side, Momo immediately took his place and buried your head into her chest. At that point, your eyes had begun to sting in response to the endless tears your friends had shed and you were sure they were just as red as Momo’s bloodshot ones.

After Yaomomo came Eijiro Kirishima, your personal golden retriever.

He had lunged at you, scooping you into his arms. Squeezing you tightly, Kirishima could not help but sob into the crook of your neck, shaking while doing so. Apologetic words were whispered brokenly, his voice cracking and changing pitch every syllable.

For someone so sturdy, so stable, you never thought the unbreakable Red Riot could crumble quite so easily.

At the hands of your own, no less.

Finally, the tears began to flow from your eyes, overpowering the dam that stubbornly refused to budge whenever it splintered. Wrapping your arms around Kirishima’s back, you clutch on for dear life, crying into his shoulder.

You almost died.

You did die.

The horror of your situation finally settles.

Your behavior and actions, it really did matter. It affected others, not only yourself. If these people were barely holding it together from seeing you now, alive and safe in a hospital, how would they have reacted if you did indeed die?

If the voice had truly beaten the odds, what would have happened to those around you?

You’re glad, you conclude, that you’ll never know and they’ll never really experience it either.

Death may conclude your story, but it doesn’t end theirs. You just close the book of their life and stop reading their story.

Glancing up from Kirishima’s quivering shoulders, you inspect the body language of everyone there. Some are hunched over, hands clasped over their mouths with tears staining their face. Others comfort each other, tenderly rubbing their backs.

However, there’s one person in particular that catches your eye.

He broods alone in the back, carmine eyes staring daggers into the ground. Dressed in his infamous black skull t-shirt and black sweatpants, his ash-blond hair stands out like a sore thumb.

You know that hunched figure like the back of your hand, even despite his immense growth over the years.

“Bakugou?”

It’s a quiet croak, a frightened whisper. But like the hawk he is, his head whips up, eyes widened in surprise.

And it is then, you see the true damage you’ve caused.

The rims of his eyes are a soft red, like the powdery light red of blush. Below his eyelashes lay streaks of fallen tears, their traces as evident as a bear’s footprints in still snow. His eyebrows are pulled together, wrinkling the space between his glassy eyes. It’s uncanny seeing Bakugou showing an emotion besides anger or neutrality, especially one akin to despair.

You’ve never seen such a hopeless expression visible on his face before.

You’re a monster.

For doing that to someone like him, you know you are.

Kirishima raises his head up and gives a small grin, glancing back at his companion. “Bakugou’s been here since you arrived at the hospital. He was the first person to contact us all about . . . this.”

You wince, pursing your lips at his not-so-subtle tiptoeing around your attempt. He means no harm, but the sting is just as intense at the reminder of your breakdown.

He moves off you and motions Katsuki to move towards your side, patting the blond on the back as he trudged over.

His steps are hesitant and slow— like a zookeeper approaching a wounded, rabid animal. Vermillion eyes inspect the tears that cling onto your eyelashes, the trembling at the corner of your lips, and the shallow intakes and exhales of breath from your throat.

The air between you is thick, but no matter how tense, you open your arms for Bakugou, staring at him teary eyed. He hovers above you, unsure of closing the distance between you both.

“Please?” Your arms tremble mid-air, and the tears on your face stream down faster. You don’t look decent— no one would look their best in such a weak, raw, and vulnerable moment, but you don’t care.

You don’t care because you know surviving is worth so much more than a presentable exterior.

Bakugou swallows thickly before moving into your embrace. His warmth contrasts the iciness in your bones and brings the blood rushing to the rest of your body. Your heart pounds rapidly and your lungs expand further and further, desperate to inhale all of Bakugou Katsuki in.

You stay like that for a few moments before he breaks the silence. “You idiot.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“If you need help, you better ask for it next time.”

And then, a small bit of warmth blossoms in your cheeks.

“Yeah, I know.”

MIDORIYA IS FRAGILE.

Midoriya is weak.

No matter how much time had passed and no matter how strong he became, he would always be that same helpless kid he once was. It was an innate part of him— Defenseless Deku would always be the child that existed in the corners of the Number One, Symbol of Peace Pro-Hero Deku’s mind.

Those thin, shaking arms and glassy, red-rimmed eyes all sewn onto a young boy would always be the reflection of Midoriya whenever he stared at the mirror.

Years of scars, fractured bones, and matured features would always fail at hiding the truth about the soul that lived within the body of the greatest hero in all of Japan’s history.

It’s something that lingered in his mind at the late hours of dusk and early hours of dawn— the harrowing truth about the Symbol of Peace.

How could one man be so strong, so powerful, yet be so weak, helpless, and vulnerable?

The thought bounced in his mind as he sat tiredly in the rickety chair of the hospital after receiving a panicked, cryptic worried message from Kacchan.

“‘She was tired. Bleak— dull. She wasn’t herself. She needs our help.’”

His words floated in Midoriya’s head, crashing into the sides of his mind once they resurfaced ashore, only to slip from the sandy outskirts of the beach and back into the rippling waves of the ocean.

“‘She needs you, Izuku.’”

(Name), his (Name), was in danger. You needed help- his help.

He wondered why Kacchan hadn’t just followed you himself. He had always loved you, long before Midoriya even did (or knew he did, for that matter). Midoriya had always known that.

Why didn’t he just play hero as he always would (just like when they were kids and Bakugou always wanted to be the one to only rescue you), and take all the glory for himself? It would end as it always did in those Hollywood films— the hero would save the girl and get her, and they would live happily ever after.

Isn’t that what Kacchan wanted? To live happily ever after with you?

At least, that’s what Midoriya had always concluded whenever his thoughts would trail back to the rather confusing relationship between you and his biggest rival.

Kacchan had always held a soft spot for you. Although the brashness of his actions and pointed words would’ve pierced anyone (like they soon did with him), those icicles simply melted before they could touch the surface of your skin.

And at first, that love was platonic (he believes, but Midoriya is unsure. He may have been able to read Kacchan like a book after years of knowing him, but he could never grasp his concept of romantic and platonic love. He didn’t know him like that.)

Gradually, however, it blossomed into something deeper than just a friendship. In the soil of his greatest rival’s heart, the roots of that love penetrated the layers of dirt before it overtook his heart and became something much stronger than either of them could have fathomed.

Kacchan would deny it all, though. Even to Midoriya.

Distinctly, Midoriya recalled watching Bakugou walk off to your dorm when you both were in your second year at U.A. He hadn’t thought much of it then (as it wasn’t until months afterwards did he begin to suspect Bakugou’s true feelings for you), but it became a frequent sight as the weeks passed.

In due time, Midoriya realized that Bakugou had been meeting up with you more than just those moments he saw Kacchan heading to your dorm room.

A polite voice snapped Midoriya from his spiraling thoughts.

“Mr. Midoriya, you are free to see (Last Name) (First Name).”

He gave a kind smile, bowing his head before he rose. Mindlessly, he walked down the hall until he found your room number the nurse gave.

Your room is secluded off into the end of the hall, beside nothing but a sterile white wall. It’s lonely out here— there are no people or gifts waiting outside the patient’s doors; just sterile, white walls and tiles.

You don’t belong here.

When Midoriya entered your room, the sight of your still body laying unceremoniously on the thin white bedding of the hospital greeted him. Not even a paper blanket had been thrown on you.

An IV drip is lodged into one of your arms, with wires of other sorts filling out the rest of the space on your forearms. Your hair is tangled and matted together by the salty water that once absorbed your body whole. There are fresh, pink cuts laying all over your body, no doubt sterilized by alcohol.

The scene reminded Midoriya of the many times he had landed himself in the hospital critically injured and on the verge of death.

You shouldn’t be in his place.

Never should you be in his place.

He loved you too much to stand seeing you so injured. You were a support hero— you stayed in the background to make the heroes of the public stronger. You belonged in an office where you would be safe and protected. Midoriya made sure of that when he requested you work for him.

But he let this happen.

It’s an unfortunate truth he doesn’t want to accept.

Midoriya knew about your feelings the whole time. He had seen the lovesick, dazed expressions you gave him. He saw the way you would grin happily after each passing interaction with him, how your eyes would light up whenever he stepped in the same room as you.

He knew because he would do all the same for you.

Every time he stepped into the office, his eyes would search for any semblance of you. It had always been like that.

He had always sought out for you, even as kids.

That’s why as he got older and realized the grasp you had on him, Midoriya attempted to flee his emotions. The longer he was around you, the deeper he spiraled in his endless pit of love for you. Butterflies would erupt every second he thought of you— they covered every inch of his being until he became a colorful mess of emotions.

And as he neared the number one spot, he realized the danger that came with such feelings. He would place a target on both your backs. Any villain looking for revenge against him would find you first as a means to get to him. And if they did— if they hurt you— he would have shattered

He would shatter.

That’s why he fled from your life: to protect you.

And himself.

Selfish Izuku.

But he failed to realize the affect it had on you. He never cared to look back and see how you took his sudden disappearance.

Look where that got you both, he tells himself.

You, in a hospital bed barely alive and him, guilty and torn apart at the seams.

Izuku Midoriya may be a hero, but he is a villain all the same.

Whether or not you’re aware of it, he is the villain in your story.

But he is— and that is enough to send the strongest man alive sprinting out of your hospital room and into the night, far away from you, his emotions, and the reality of your lives. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision as he soars in the air, pouncing from rooftop to rooftop.

The world will always remind Izuku Midoriya that while your worlds were meant to meet, they were meant to collide together and cause destruction.

He just never meant to damage yours as much as he did.

But Midoriya is weak. He is as fragile and helpless as they come, even if he is trapped in the body of the most powerful and capable being known to man.

The cruel universe continued to laugh at him, bathing gloriously in his misery.

Dumb little boy, it condescendingly cooed.

Helpless Izuku, it reminded him.

And he let it torment him, as he always had. Because while he may be the closest thing to God, even he cannot defy fate.

The world doesn’t welcome you with open arms after you’re discharged from the hospital.

When you step outside of the hospital doors, the weather isn’t warm and sunny with a gentle breeze that kisses your skin in those Hollywood movies. The ends of your clothes and hair don’t flutter majestically in the wind. Birds don’t swoop down and tweet enthusiastically at you, hopping to inch near you. There aren’t people happily chattering as they trek down the sidewalks and kids squealing as they sprint freely across the street.

Instead, it’s a sweltering kind of heat that causes sweat to form in every crevice of your body; it’s the kind that burns your skin the moment you step outside, tearing apart your dry, AC-adapted skin. Hair sticks to your face at unflattering angles and your wrinkled clothes are impossibly uncomfortable with every step you take. The polyester of your shirt rubs uncomfortably against the cuts and bruises located all around your body, making you wince. Animals and critters skitter away into the shade in hopes of cooling down. There are no pedestrians on the street or giddy kids. All you can see and hear are cars honking at each other, angry drivers, and speeding motorcycles.

Life is hideous, unfortunate, and cruel. Life is reality. Life is the truth and the truth was never meant to be kind or forgiving. It was meant to kick you off your high horse and humble yourself. It was meant to remind you no matter the strength you possessed, no matter how perfect you were perceived, you would always have to bow your head to the hand above. It was meant to teach you to never bite the hand that feeds you, or else dire consequences will come from those who are disobedient.

And you disobeyed it. You defied fate. You chose your own death, against the death the world had planned for you. You sunk your canines into the hand of life and tore its fingers off, letting the blood spurt over your face.

Now, you are paying for it by living through misery.

Before and after death.

Always and forever.

“Pathetic,” the voice whispered. “How pathetic, (Name). You can’t do anything right, can you?”

A sleek black cars rolls to the curb and a tinted window is rolled down. Ash-blond spikes stick out of the window and you are met with Bakugou’s gleaming eyes.

“You getting in, Princess?”

He sticks a thumb behind him, signaling for you to go to the back. Nodding your head, you step into the back of the vehicle and shut the door behind you, buckling your seatbelt.

You’re right, you agreed with the voice, I can’t do anything right.

Beside Bakugou in the driver’s seat is Todoroki, who sends you a charming smile when he looks back at you. Bakugou turns over as well.

“Hello, (Name).”

You softened at the sight of his body’s tension melting under your gaze. “Hi, Shoto. How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

A bright laugh escapes you— it’s abrupt and loud— the kind that makes you roll around in your bed rethinking your every choice at the crack of dawn.

Yet, somehow for the first time in months, nearly years, you feel a little bit lighter.

The world seems a little brighter.

The voice boils in rage.

“Aren’t you just a charmer, Todoroki?” your hand waves teasingly as you press your head to the glass, swooning to the side. “I always knew your were my Prince Charming waiting to sweep me off my feet!”

Bakugou sucks air through his teeth, huffing loudly. Shoto’s eyes twinkle in amusement as he peers over at Katsuki, his eyes crinkling as his smile grows wider and the pearls of his teeth begin to show.

“If you have something to say Bakugou, you should communicate with us,” Todoroki stated matter-of-factly, glancing behind him before reversing out of his spot. “We’re friends, after all.”

Bakugou scowls, rolling his eyes before turning back and staring at you from the dash mirror. “You got all your stuff, (Name)?”

You nodded, watching as he turned to look off into the distance.

Bakugou had changed drastically from the teenager he once was in UA and even though you saw his development each year, never did you focus on each of his features as he matured.

Your mind wanders to the memories stored of the nights you continuously spent with Bakugou, drinking in his features. The images of the moonlight glowing on his skin like a gentle kiss from a loving mother. The slight curl of his eyelashes, always so long and full that the girls in middle school would jealously whisper over how pretty he was. The deep carmine of his eyes that resembled the reddest of apples, so shiny and perfectly polished that even the fruit trees strewn across Japan enviously would turn away, swaying their branches in the opposite direction just to look away from his breathtaking features.

Those features remained as an adult. Though, the only difference between younger Bakugou and your current one were their builds. Katsuki was taller, bulkier, and somehow even leaner to the point every angle of him appeared sharp. His jawline, the outline of his shoulders, his calf muscles, and everything inbetween. You had gotten accustomed to hearing the fangirls and fanboys of Dynamight ramble about his striking appearance, but you never noticed it properly until this moment.

He’s healthier.

Happier, too.

The once permanent scowl on his face has toned down to a stoic expression and his eyes seem purer than they ever had been before. His soul is kinder, his intentions are gentler. It’s evident with the way he interacts with the world around him, how his touch is less sudden and rough.

You’re glad to see him flourishing in life.

He deserves nothing but the best.

“You don’t,” the voice sneered.

A catchy tune permeates the air and you snap back to the present to find Shoto fiddling with the radio. Slender fingers twisted the black knob back and forth, lingering on each different station for only a moment before moving onto the next.

Shoto cleared his throat. “Are there any radio stations you both like?”

Bakugou shook his head. “I only listen to music from my phone.” He tilts his head back to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“Not really,” you tugged at your shirt, trying to distract yourself. “I’m kinda like Bakugou.”

Todoroki lets go of the knob and returns both hands to the steering wheel. “Well, I suggest one of you pull out your phone because we have a long way to go.”

His head bobs in Katsuki’s direction and Bakugou whips out his phone.

Quizzically, you peer at the two. Raising an eyebrow, you reiterate, “. . . A long way to go? My home isn’t that far from the general hospital. It’s not more than 10 minutes driving.”

Immediately, you look outside, reading the names of the streets that pass by. Street names you’ve never heard before pass by and you are met with unfamiliar roads and scenery. Instead of the usual shrubs you’re used to walking by, there are blossoming trees on every corner. This part of the city is far nicer than what you’re used to.

They aren’t taking you home.

“Hope you like animals, princess,” Bakugou chuckled, patting Shoto on the shoulder.

“Road-trip,” Shoto said in the most monotone voice possible.

You gulp.

Geez, maybe I shouldn’t have gotten in this car in the first place.

You grumble, pulling your legs to your chest.

Bakugou cackles loudly and Todoroki emits a small chuckle.

You crack a grin and close your eyes. The voice fumes.

Your smile brightens.

Life gradually begins to slow down as the months pass.

Time doesn’t go as fast, memories don’t escape your mind as much, and moments seem to last long enough to engrave themselves into you. No longer do you live life through your eyes as a spectator in your own body, but as an actual human being present in the moment.

In short, you’re recovering.

At least, that’s what your therapist says. Your friends too.

Not everyday is perfect. You’re not productive every morning, afternoon, or night. Sometimes, you can get out of bed with ease and settle into the little routine you’ve built for yourself. You can wake up, make your bed, change your clothes, wash your face, perform a skincare routine, make breakfast and commence with the day. You might be productive the whole days and run errands, make phone calls, book appointments, and catch up with friends and family. In other instances, your day is much more mundane. You lounge on the couch, hangout with friends, or treat yourself to some nice takeout or a nice walk to that local cafe or bakery. You end the day with a nice movie and popcorn, and even desert if you’re feeling something sweet. Then, you go to bed and the process repeats.

Other times, it feels impossible to even crack your eyes open. You can’t bring yourself to break through the state of slumber. All you can pray for are for those black tendrils to pull you back under into a dreamless world to distract you from reality. Getting out of bed is nearly impossible; it requires hours of coaxing yourself, frustrated tears, frantic thoughts, and maybe a pair of helping hands. The distance from your bed to your bathroom is infinite and the idea of even picking up your toothbrush has you collapsing on the spot. The tears bleed from your eyes and pile onto the sink and your pained sobs echo throughout the halls. The water of the shower is too much and you have to just sit there and wallow until a nagging feeling, a sliver of an authoritative voice reminds you there are bills to pay and there is a life to live. The day is filled with long hours of work and unrest and agony, but it only takes one text to guarantee a pair of warm arms will pick up the pieces of your pain when you get home.

Those days are the hardest, but you’ve survived each one. That in its own is a feat that you’re reminded of everyday you stare in the mirror. You imagine the faces of those who remain with you today whenever the thought dwells and you continue on.

Guilt sparks in your chest when you think of all of those who had suffered in the way you had but received no support and were left to suffer. Your heart cracks, but you know you must do this.

If not for you, for them. For those who were not as fortunate. You will live to tell the tale they could not.

You will remember them in life while they are remembered in death.

Your therapist says trial and error is how you succeed in life. Learning from mistakes is how you grow into someone greater than you were before.

To conclude each session, she reminds you consistency is key. Each time you tell her, “‘Frankly, that’s the hardest part about recovery.’”

It’s hard to be consistent because nothing is consistent in your life. Nothing is consistent in life. The world is ever-changing. Everyday, the Earth spins and something changes around you. A child grows a year older. A baby is born. A loved one is lost. Life dies. Life is reborn. Love blossoms and love dies. A new creation is discovered while another is destroyed. A heart is broken while another is mended.

Someone changes. And at one point in time, you were that person who changed.

Without a beat, she sends you that wistful smile of hers and that one sentence that leads you snorting out of her office.

“‘You like to surprise the world, (Name).’”

For the longest time you had thought she was going mad listening to you, but you eat your words now.

“Did you love him?”

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

Slender fingers wrap around the end of the teaspoon, digging the head into the cup of sugar. Another few reach for the China teacup placed in the middle of the table, gently moving it forward to meet the now full spoon of sugar. The grains of white tumble out of the rounded metal and into the warm water, sinking to the bottom until the same spoon hits the water and stirs them around, dissolving them.

The fresh cup of tea is handed to you.

“Who?” The ceramic’s temperature is a favorable kind of warm— the type that spreads from your fingertips into the rest of your body until you’ve melted in a comfortable pile of goo that brings a content feeling swelling in your chest.

The tea is even warmer, steam hitting your face as you go to sip it. The liquid slips past your lips and over your tongue, coating every crevice of your mouth. The hints of mint and Jasmine blend perfectly with each other, the sweet floral balances out the spice of the mentha.

It reminds you of him.

“Don’t be coy, (Name). You know who I’m talking about.” You want to decline her assertion— to argue that her generality is misleading and she should specify who the man she suspects you have fallen in love with is. But this lady is one you have known for your whole life, one who you believe may just know better than all the rest despite your drastic differences. She was always there to keep you in check between reality and fiction.

Finally, you look up.

Astute and inquisitive eyes the color of carmine align with yours. Mitsuki grins slyly, her eyes twinkling in amusement. “There’s those pretty eyes. Glad to see you’re still in tact, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fragile, Mitsuki. And you’re starting to sound like Katsuki.”

The woman’s eyes soften at the sound of her son’s name and crinkle at the edges in thought. “He got his language from me, y’know. I was the one who called you all those sweet things when you were young. I mean, you were just the cutest little girl!” She wears an adoring smile on her face as she gazes at you with so much motherly love that you can only fidget under her gaze, lowering your eyes in embarrassment.

You never got used to the fireball known as Mitsuki Bakugou, nor her affections. From your earliest days, you could recall the way she would just coddle you. Whenever her son seemed to be talking your ear off or you were overwhelmed, she would simply pluck you out of Bakugou’s reach and walk away from his vicinity, cradling you in her arms cooing quietly at you. No matter how much he would protest, Mitsuki would be your getaway from any situation you couldn’t seem to defuse yourself.

On the weekends, she would take you out shopping with her as if you were her own kin, doting on you like a second mother. She would buy you clothes, books, get you icecream and take you out to eat. Your parents liked to joke that she was their own free babysitter, to which she would always exclaim that you would always be the daughter she never had.

As you got older, that powerful kind of love Mitsuki possessed was one you saw less and less of. That growing rift between you and her son was greater than ever, and the chances you had of seeing her was minimal, minus the outings she would frequently invite your folks to. Even then, she would always be mingling with the crowd.

Sometimes, you wondered if she was there with you through your hardest years would your life have turned out differently. It’s a thought to entertain, but the consequences of misery and despair flare at the idea.

You push the concept down whenever it pops up.

She continues.

“Katsuki simply followed suit. He’s my boy, after all.”

“Your own personal carbon copy,” you agree, stroking the intricately painted patterns of the fine China. The thought of Mitsuki’s question lingers in your head, prodding at a hidden part of your mind you had tucked away for ages now.

The topic of Izuku Midoriya was one you stopped entertaining after the night at the cliff. You had ripped it from the forefront of your mind, shoved it deep inside a metal vault, locked it shut, and tossed the key away.

The relationship between you both was messy— it was a lack of communication, a tangled mess of emotions and one-sided care. The bubble of your affections was filled with mistreatment, betrayal, selfishness, and greed. It was take, take, take from Midoriya and give, give, give from you. It wasn’t healthy for you nor Midoriya.

After you had opened the can of worms that was the man you once loved with your therapist, it wasn’t possible for you to ever see him in the same light. You could never stare at Midoriya with that blindly lovestruck gaze through those rose-tinted lenses. All that flashed before your eyes at the mere mention of him was the horror, sympathy, and guilt that swirled in her eyes as she listened to you. The shaky hug she had given you made you quiver in your shoes and the tears that fell from her eyes made your own slip past your hold.

That was the first time you had seen her professional facade break.

The thought that even the most experienced and knowledgeable of people in the world breaking at the seams from your supposed love story sickened you to your core.

“Was it that obvious?” Truthfully, you’re curious. Did everyone around you know how you used to feel about him? Were your affections for him that palpable?

“Very,” she nods, bringing the cup to her lips once again. “None of us saw it at first when you were kids. Not Inko, myself, or your family.”

Mitsuki sets the cup down, leaning her head on her hand. “But as you all grew up, we all realized that whenever you were with Izuku, you lit up in a way none of us had ever seen before. It was puppy love in our eyes, so we didn’t think much of it at first.”

A noncommittal hum leaves your throat and you inspect Mitsuki as she speaks.

“I mean, you were obvious. It was sweet,” Mitsuki laughs, the vermillion irises of her eyes shining in glee. Suddenly, she placed a finger to her cheek in thought. “Have you spoken to him as of late, (Name)?”

“Midoriya?” you blink, surprised. She doesn’t know, (Name). Stay calm.

You shake your head before going to down the rest of your tea. Mitsuki waved her hand in the air, her face morphing into an indecipherable expression.

“The brat told me about how worried the both of them were over you when you were still in the hospital,” she begins, and she looks down, lowering her voice. “He . . . He was scared.”

You still.

“Scared?” you parrot. “Why? He’s seen worse, hasn’t he?”

The eyebrows of Mitsuki’s face furrow and she sets her teacup down, clasping her hands together. It’s as if the air around you stills and time begins to freeze, pausing the orbiting of Earth itself.

Mitsuki hesitates. “He called me in tears when he was waiting for you to wake up— he was terrified. And when your heartbeat flatlined?” Mitsuki shakes her head. “He couldn’t hold himself together anymore. That Todoroki kid and Kirishima had to take him outside to console him.”

She stares at you, smiling sadly. “The last time he was that petrified was when he was a child, (Name).” A small exhale leaves her lips. “If he lost you that day, he would have lost everything.”

“Huh?” you sweat-drop. “Katsuki has a lot going for him in life, Mitsuki. I don’t think my . . . disappearance would be the end of him.”

Mitsuki shakes her head with a solemn smile, the low curl of her lips hinting at a secret unbeknownst to you. “You just don’t know how much you mean to my boy, (Name).”

She sighs. “I wish he would just tell you already. But I suppose now isn’t this time, is it?”

Mitsuki stands from her position, moving over to pat your head affectionally before leaving the kitchen.

A small part of you claws at your throat, screeching at you to stop her fading figure. It itches at you, desperate to scratch at the surface of your curiosity.

What does Katsuki need to tell me? And why won’t he?

“Curiosity killed the cat, (Name),” the voice giggles in glee. “You don’t want to meet that same end again, do you?”

A booming voice cuts through the clouds in the sky, sending you falling back to the ground.

“You ready to go?”

Leaning against the frame of the hall in all his glory is Katsuki Bakugou, dressed nicer than you’ve ever seen him. He’s wearing a fitted black polo from a brand far too expensive for you to name off the top of your head and a pair of tailored khaki pants. Placed on his right wrist is a black Vacheron Constantin watch with intricate carvings and stones within the clock that looks far too expensive for you to even fathom purchasing or even browsing through.

Like a moth to a flame, Mitsuki steps over to her son, fussing over him like a mother bird with her chick. She huffs as she adjusts the collar of his shirt accordingly, and he groans as his mother who was nearly a foot shorter than him pranced around and fixed his appearance.

The sight was heartwarming, sending a wave of nostalgia through you.

“You expect to go out with (Name) looking like that? I raised you better than this, Katsuki! You’re the son of a fashion designer!” Mitsuki scolds, combing out his hair.

He grumbles, swatting her hand away. “You hag—! I look fine!”

The bickering between the two continues, both of them going back and forth. She swats at his shoulder, even going as far to beat him with her slipper.

Bakugou takes each hit, not moving to fight back. You know he could stop her if he wanted. After all, he was the second strongest hero of Japan and pure muscle. No woman or man stood a chance against him.

Though, when you see Bakugou wince as his mom smacks him for the nth time, you’re left thinking that maybe Mitsuki might be the exception to the rule.

The thought bubbles a giggle in your throat that leaves you chortling to the point of tears. It’s a sound that hasn’t escaped you in ages.

Your chest feels full. Your body feels warm— not the restricting kind, but the comforting one.

They both turn to the sound, their expressions softening as you doubled over in joy. You look up and find Bakugou’s eyes swirling with an emotion that sends your heart fluttering and a brighter grin growing on your face against your will.

The expression reminds you of one you always stared at Midoriya with.

Could it be . . . ?

Heat spreads across your body and your heart skips a beat.

“No one could ever love you, (Name). No one ever will. You’re unlovable,” the voice smirked. “Foolish little (Name). Lovestruck already for another man you’ll never get? How humiliating.”

You recoil back into your timid shell, causing Mitsuki to give Katsuki a look.

The look.

It shouts at him, “Go comfort (Name)! How else are you going to win her heart?”

The one Katsuki returns barks, “What do you think I was going to do?! You’re bothering me, hag!”

Mitsuki rolls her eyes before slapping his shoulder with a huff. “Well, you better go now Romeo, or else I’ll whisk her away from you first!”

He breaks eye contact first, rolling his eyes as he nears towards your hunched figure. From the lowering of your head, he suspects your eyes are trained on the table in front of you. Though, his vision is obscured by the hair that falls in front of your eyes that he so desperately desires to tuck behind your ear.

Be selfish, his mind screamed. Take what you want the most.

But for you, he swore to never bite the hand you fed him from. He would always be grateful for the attention, affection, and care you gave him. You were always so generous with him and the twerp.

Perhaps this time, he would become the hand that did not feed you, but pampered you. Loved you. Took care of you. He would prove that he was not a man greater than the world when he was on his knees beside you. You were his equal, his other half.

He would treat you better than Midoriya ever did. While the Symbol of Peace was blessed with countless chances to end as yours, to take off running with you into a never-ending fairytale, he always left you to eat dust and dirt. Even when Bakugou sacrificed the one chance he had for Midoriya, he refused to atone for his sins. Instead, he only ran further.

This time, Bakugou would not wait for the world to give him a chance. He would create his one last chance with you.

He would love you right. Properly, fully, and unconditionally.

Unlike Midoriya.

A calloused hand gently pushes a few strands behind your ear before cupping the side of your face, bringing your eyes back into focus. Rough palms lovingly caress the apple of your cheeks and instinctively you lean into their hold.

From their touch alone, you know who this is.

Kneeling beside you is Katsuki Bakugou in all his glory, vermillion eyes and all trained on your face. Delicately, you move your hand to wrap around his wrist, giving him a small grin at his delicate behavior. It reminded you of the nights you spent back at UA together.

The syrupy feeling in your chest swirls faster.

A sudden flick smacks your forehead and instinctively you grab your head, face morphing into a glare. “You done prancing with your head in the clouds? We got a reservation to meet.”

You playfully scoff, standing up. “You can’t be nice for once, can you Katsuki?”

He laughed. “Never, Princess.”

The two of you head towards the front door, hugging Mitsuki as you leave. As you both enter Bakugou’s car, she waves you off with a “stay safe name! And protect her Katsuki!”

“We will, Mitsuki!” you shouted, waving. Bakugou grumbles and affectionately, you ruffle his hair. “He says he will, too!”

Mitsuki emits a hearty laugh as she walks back inside the comforts of her own home.

“So where are we headed to eat?” you trace the end of your dress, twirling the loose fabric. “You said to dress nicer than normal, but I’m not too sure what to expect with you pro-heroes.“

Bakugou snorts. “What makes you say that, sweetheart?”

You side-eye Bakugou, cocking an eyebrow. “Take a wild guess.”

“Half-N’-Half took you to one of those rich restaurants in Tokyo?” Bakugou doesn’t even glance over. He’s right and he knows it.

As always.

You grimace, melting into your seat. “I wish I could have evaporated into thin air the moment I stepped inside.”

The occurrence had happened not even a week ago. Only hours before you were meant to hangout with Todoroki, he had sent you an ominous text to simply dress well. When he picked you up, all he would tell you was that you both were attending somewhere nice to dine for the night. And as clueless as ever, you assumed it would be a slightly more upscale restaurant than you both typically frequented.

But boy, were you wrong.

The restaurant was at least fifteen stories tall with clear panes of glass covering every inch of each wall. Chandeliers covered each foot of the high rise ceilings and the floors were glassy, gargantuan tiles that were a pale color of hessonite. The furniture in the establishment were expensive— mulberry silk, plush cushions, bocote wood and all.

The patrons appeared to be just as wealthy, if not more. Dressed in the finest of suits and dresses, adorned with flashy and gauzy jewelry, each and every one of them burned brighter than last.

Shoto too, fit right in. Elegant and classy, they all gawked at the Number Three Pro-Hero.

And you, in comparison to them, stood out like a sore thumb. Meek, humble, and intimidated. You could hear their whispers about you, that night. But you chose to suck down your raging emotions to enjoy the night and tasty dishes.

Well, for as long as you could.

“Was the food good? Shit like that is either hit or miss,” Bakugou commented as he took a right turn, peeking at the GPS set up in the car. “We’re almost there.”

You nod, watching as the once filled roads of the highway cleared into empty streets of residential neighborhoods. “The food was fantastic, but the portions wouldn’t have even fed an infant. I don’t think I’d ever go back, though.”

“Why not?”

You blink, scratching at the skin of your arm to distract yourself from Bakugou’s question. Maybe, just maybe he would ignore your silence—

He repeats his question, opting to now stare at you. You shrink further back into your seat.

There’s no point in lying now, is there?

“I kind of freaked out,” you admit, leaning against the window. The glass is cool against your skin and you let your eyes close momentarily. “I was thrown into an unknown environment and I could feel all their eyes on me. They weren’t trying to hide the fact that they were talking about me.”

You kicked off your heels, sitting your legs up on the seat. “Halfway through, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I told Shoto I had a call to take and nearly sprinted outside to get some fresh air.” You open your eyes, looking at the dashboard in front of you. “It’s humiliating to think about it now, but I left for nearly an hour trying to calm myself down. I must’ve looked insane to anyone walking by.”

The imagery of you sitting on your bottom in front of a Michelin star restaurant with your head in your hands breathing erratically and on the verge of tears made you cringe at the idea. You definitely got some dirty looks, even if no one approached you.

Timidly, you peered at Bakugou. His expression was blank and his lips formed no response.

Your heart constricts itself in your chest.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut, you chastise, curling deeper into yourself. Dread filled your stomach. Why did I even open my mouth?

“Why did you?” the voice taunts. “Everything is easier when you just stay quiet.”

Tears bud at the corner of your eyes and you curl deeper into yourself, focusing on the scenery flying by outside.

Despite the two of you entering residential roads, the area looks familiar. The quiet streets eventually delve into a busy intersection filled with grocery stores and small businesses. The scene looks familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it.

“Stupid, little (Name),” the voice coos patronizingly. You grit your teeth. The dread that once resided in your stomach transforms into a festering anger that dribbles into your bloodstream, spreading like pure poison.

The voice beams, spinning circles around your mind eagerly. “Didn’t we go over this last time, (Name)? I’m always right. You’re always wrong. That’s just how it is. That’s life.”

That’s not true— you’re nothing but a filthy liar! you seeth, digging your nails into your skin. I believed you and look where I am—

The thought freezes you. As soon as it comes, it dies. You can hear the voice giggling in delight. Horror creeps into your chest. You tremble in return.

I thought I was getting better. That hopelessness you thought left your system months ago seeps into your bones, attempting to crack the wall of sanity you had spent months building. I thought I was supposed to be healing.

The mantra that rung repeatedly in your head that evening at your office plays again, mimicking that dull little tune. I can’t, I can’t, I—

“We’re here,” Bakugou turns off the ignition of the car. Swiveling your head, you are met with carmine irises and narrowed eyes inspecting your features.

You gulp.

Choke it down, (Name). You’re ruining it for him. Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re okay. You’re fine. You’ll be okay. Just get out. Just leave. It’s only a few more hours and then you can kiss the bed goodnight and never wake up again.

Finally, when you turn to see where you arrived, your heart plummets.

To your side lay swaying blades of grass, swinging to the current of the evening breeze. They dance in the wind, luring the unknown to enter their arcane kingdom. In between the luscious planes of evergreen grass is a dirt road, soiled with muddy tracks from those who had come before you two.

The idea that some of those tracks could have been yours sends you reeling.

I can’t do this. This has to be some sick joke the universe is playing on me. A nightmare.

Suddenly, Bakugou is in front of your door, unlocking it for you. No words are said, except for the calloused hand he has laid out for you. You can’t see his eyes, but you’re sure he must think you’re insane.

If he didn’t before, he surely did now.

Just get the night over with, (Name). It can’t be that bad, right? You’re just overthinking it. It’s not that big of a deal.

“You’re too naive,” the voice sings. Slowly, the inky tendrils of despair emerged from the crevices of your mind, circling your brain. Latching onto any expanse of mind, they pulled and pushed. “You’re hopeless. Why do you even try? You failed once. You’re nothing. You’re worthless.”

I’m not worthless, you argue back, taking Bakugou’s hand. He’s saying something that you can’t pick up, but you don’t care enough to. Rage bubbled beneath your skin. I’ve made it this far. I survived. I can do this.

Storming off, you walk on the trail. Each step you take is filled with fury and steam, gallons upon gallons of boiling emotions that you can’t wait to scream into the night.

When you walk along the curves, twists, and turns of the trail, you don’t picture the nights you spent running up the path with Midoriya. You don’t envision locks of green rooted with black bouncing with each step, galaxies of freckles or the craters you call dimples. Those stupidly bright red shoes the color of maraschino cherries aren’t what form in your mind as you stare at the ground, watching one foot go in front of the other.

Instead, those memories are replaced with the days you spent drinking yourself into oblivion, desperate to drown your sorrows. Flashes and flickers of empty beer bottles strewn across patches of damp, crushed and curled grass play in your head. The sight of filthy and grimy white tiles and a pair of shoes dragging themselves repeat in your head like a broken tape, the beep of a scanner continuously breaks each train of coherent thought that attempts to enter your head.

“‘Would that be all?’”

Thousands of voices ask, some more feminine, some more masculine, some exactly in-between or strewn off into the left or right. Their faces are blurs and unrecognizable blends, obtuse and acute shapes. Their noses are thin, thick, long, short, stout, round, curved up or down, broken or centered perfectly. Their faces are long, round, slender, puffy, soft, rough, bony, or chubby. It’s angles and curves, proportions and disproportions. There’s marks— dots, lines, squiggles, blobs— imperfections in their eyes, but they’re just shapes in yours. Their strands of hair are slicked back, falling forward, parted down the middle, sides, sticking up, down, left and right, or to the side. Their eyes come in different shapes— circles, ovals, diamonds, almonds, pistachios. The outlines are round, big, small, sharp, soft, thin, delicate, tough.

There’s billions of them.

But you never cared enough to truly study their features, instead opting to let a hum and snatch the alcohol from the counter, disappearing in the night.

Now, you wonder if you had cared to stare them in the eyes for a moment longer, to peer past the veil of darkness before your eyes, would you have been saved? Would you have been stopped in your tracks, staring at glistening eyes filled with life, youth, and humanity, disturbed at your disgusting, reckless behavior?

“No one could have saved you,” the voice reminds. “No one can save you. No one will save you.”

Your blood boils and the sense of reconciliation shatters, leaving you sourer than before. Frustrated, you stomp faster, ignoring Bakugou.

The only thing audible is the blood pumping in your veins, the angered huffs from your mouths, and the stomping of your heels against the trail. Each step causes the ends of your shoes to stick further into the soil, making each motion more exerting than last. At the rate you storm up the path, sooner or later fate will bring you down on your knees to kiss the dirt.

With every few feet, the soil beneath your feet hardens. The layers become dryer, returning every step with enough abrupt force to keep you resurfaced. No longer do the pebbles littering the ground sink in; instead, they slide with the specks of dirt, tumbling up and down with the breeze of the wind. You ascend further and further, rise higher and higher. No longer do you fall to your surroundings.

Instead, you rise above them.

“Just like the waves,” the voice beams. “But this time, will you fall below them?”

Time seems to slow to a stop, and you are brought back to reality, frozen in your tracks.

The sea sings its song, the one it always has— the lullaby that sailors fall asleep to and creatures far below the surface awaken for. Each wave crashes against the rocks littered around the cliff wall, the impact of every hit resonating in the air. The droplets of salty water fly high into the air, dropping as fast as they bounced from the cold stone.

The once comforting noises of the deep blue haunt you, seeping into your ears and drowning your heart.

“Don’t step too close to the edge, or you’ll fall off, Princess.”

A sudden warmth blooms on your wrist and when you turn your head, your gaze meets Bakugou’s. Carmine meets (e/c), the two melting into the other.

He wears a cocky grin, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It looks forced, dare you say, nothing like the bright and deadly grin that adorns his face on the battlefield or when he jokes with friends.

You want to ask, “Are you okay?” But your mouth is glued shut and your body is too heavy to move, so you opt to stand in silence with your wrist in his rough palms, allowing the heat of him to bleed into the coldness of you.

“You’re missing the main attraction, sweetheart,” Bakugou nods his head to the side and your gaze follows suit.

Laying a few feet away from you is a picturesque picnic, straight out of any girl’s Pinterest board. There’s a large black blanket laid out with fairy lights spread all around it, lighting up a pathway for you to enter its soft kingdom. Plates of pastries, fruits, and different foods rest around each inch, goading you to come and take a bite. There’s a wooden basket woven to create the finest pattern, a heart, centered in the middle filled with ice and two bottles of what you believe are champagne and wine.

Your stomach lurches and the tea you had earlier churns in delight to make a reappearance from your gut. You swallow thickly.

“Wow,” is all you manage, but you see the corners of Bakugou’s lips turn just a little bit higher at the words. He doesn’t seem to notice your inner turmoil.

“Did you really think he would? After he hid the fact that he knew you were suffering all this time?”

You answer with memories of going out with friends, with him distracting you from your crumbling life after you escaped the hospital. The voice scoffs at each one and with every noise of disappointment, you hole yourself further and further into your mind.

Bakugou gently tugs you forward, leading you to the picnic. Moving to the side, he guides you to sit down, to which you curl your legs into your side. Carefully walking around the fairy lights, he takes a seat, crossing his legs.

The air between the two of you is tense, awkward. None of you make the first move to speak or eat. You just sit in silence with your hands in your lap, fiddling with your fingers. Never once do you dare to peer up and see how Bakugou reacts to the feel of the room.

Selfish.

He makes the move to pick up a piece of food, and you follow suit by grabbing some mochi. At least that would keep you busy.

Bits of conversation fall between you two, but no sparks fly. It’s lifeless and dull— the fireworks that once blew up beside you two now blew up between the two of you, creating a rift greater than the Nile River.

The mochi is soft as it is sticky, refusing to tear from its body. Though, when it finally breaks, it resists your teeth as you chew it slowly, fighting to keep itself whole. The doughy inside burst into your mouth, sweetening your tastebuds.

Though, the saccharine goodness does little to cancel out the bitterness in your heart and the sourness on your tongue.

“You should see the water. Looks gorgeous when you’re up close,” Bakugou sets down a piece of strawberry cake he had bitten through, nearly halfway done. Rising from his position, he extends a hand to you, goading you to follow in his steps. You mindlessly take the bait, allowing him to drag you like a little girl with her dolls.

Each step closer is painstaking. A nasty feeling latches itself onto your mind, eating through the walls of your sanity. Long, thick, silver drills press into the cement, chomping with all its might to destroy the structure.

“Isn’t it just nostalgic?” the voice prances, jumping back and forth in ecstasy. “You and me, just like from day one.”

You wonder if the glass shards from the broken beer bottles remained spread across the plains of grass, nestled deep between each patch of blades. Had others whom trekked these hills let the glass crunch beneath their feet, shattering the sticky, translucent material? Did they ever consider the story behind the pile of broken bottles, wondering if a soul was suffering the way you were? Or did they merely scoff at the sight, commenting about how reckless others were at the sight of haphazardly tossed glasses with the image of a group of teenagers drinking and giggling into the night?

Did they treat it kindly, lifting each individual piece and storing it to toss away? Or did they kick it to the side with a huff, stepping around any other messes nearby?

Would they have believed a soul if they told the story about a woman drowning in her own agony, her own lovesick foolery? Would they have empathized with the lost soul tethered together by a vile voice, haunting her every living moment?

Would they have listened to the soul beneath their shoes and the sky above their heads sing the tale of misery?

“Would you believe them?”

No, you answer, now peering at the water that soared to the edge of the cliff. I wouldn’t have even listened.

The salty liquid crashes against the boulders, flooding every crevice until the dips overflowed, spilling back into the ocean. Algae resurfaces with every wave, creeping further upon the cliff. Different creatures slip from the holes, desperate to escape the vicious cycle of life and Mother Nature.

Some drown, some drift off into the abyss of black, and others survive. It’s as beautiful as it’s painful and horrific.

Life is cruel. Life is unfair. Life is unforgiving.

Life is a rose— deceptively gorgeous with its bright lights, warm skies, cool breezes and pretty organisms. But with every creation comes its thorns— its threats and consequences for such beauty.

Life is you. You are life.

You are living.

Your throat constricts and your fists clench.

The sky is no longer a melting pot of warmth. There are no hues of burgundy, honey, or marmalade. All that lingers in its tracks are the sinister obsidian, with streaks of berry blue and a deep indigo that looks nearly the same as the vantablack that permeates the entirety of the atmosphere surrounding you. It is freezing cold and frigid.

The twinkles of fluorescence in the air are the only symbol of warmth left, but they are just as cold as the world around you is. They never lit up in the cozy tones of color. They were overshadowed, for they thawed under that gentle glow it emitted.

Static trickles into your ears, blocking out the noise of your surroundings. The control of your own body slips from between your fingertips, tipping into the ocean below. The sight of the world around you blurs and finally, you are rendered helpless.

Bile comes up instantly.

The world seems to nearly tip over as you hurl, coughing up all the liquids and food that had once churned within your stomach. Thick, corded arms wrap around your waist, stabilizing you and soothing your pained body.

Choked coughs escape your throat as you are forced to expel all the contents of your stomach, burning your throat. A tang of bitterness is heavy on your tongue and your mouth is impossibly dry. Grabbing at your throat, you perform a poor hand motion of drinking and instantly Bakugou hands you a glass.

It’s clear— it looks close enough to water. You down it.

It’s sweet, bubbly, and nothing like water. Once again, you vomit. It rushes back through your nose and out of your mouth, leaving you shuddering in place. A surprised “Shit!” leaves Bakugou’s mouth and he tugs you to him, rubbing your back with those large calloused palms of his.

You cough, inhaling every bit of air. “You— god— you gave me champagne?”

Bakugou hissed. “I didn’t realize that we didn’t have water— I was trying to help!”

It burns, stings. Your throat is on fire, your chest is constricting on itself and your heart is pounding. The heat of Bakugou only adds to the coldness of your skin, the iciness that seeped from your insides to your skin. Your eyes demand to fall shut, the lids drooping with every breath. The world feels dead around you, your head is heavy, and you are limp.

You are dead. You are a dead man trapped in a living body.

Bakugou shifts. “Are you . . . okay? Fuck— that’s a dumb question but—”

The thumping of Bakugou’s heart brings your eyes to shut. “I thought I was. Yanno, I thought I was recovering and all that. I was making progress. That’s what everyone said.”

A warm finger slides under your eye, brushing the puffy skin gently. “But?”

“I guess I didn’t. Or I did and I fell backwards. Took one step forward and six steps back.” You push your head further into his chest in a poor attempt to allow the exhaustion of your body to seep into the heat and disappear. “Lately, it feels like I’m back to before the hospital. I don’t reach for the beer like I did before, but that misery and hopelessness still lingers within me.”

Does it ever go away? you want to ask. Do I ever heal?

Nobody can answer. Time can only tell. Life can only smile.

You glance up at Bakugou and watch as his face contorts into a confused expression, lost at your words. A sad smile graces your lips. “You know, it was here where it all happened. I don’t think you even knew— I don’t even know how you knew about this spot— but I guess that’s what I get. I mean, it’s what I get for not telling you the entire truth, I guess. The world likes to make people pay for their actions, huh?”

Bakugou remains silent.

“I hate this place. It reminds me of him.” You both are aware of who you’re referring to. “We found it together. When we were kids in UA. Maybe even before, I don’t really remember.”

Bakugou shifts the two of you so you’re both laying down, inching away from the cliff and back to the cloth. He brings his hand to your back, rubbing soft circles and figure eights. You bury your head into his chest, words muffled by his shirt.

“There’s so many memories here. Good and bad. And I kept coming back all this time to relieve them because of him. But he never cared. It’s stupid now— I can’t believe I never saw it. I was holding onto something that had died long ago and I was dying because of it. I think I’m dead now, anyway. I don’t feel alive.”

You choke on your words. “I want it to all go away, Katsuki,” you say plaintively like a child, clutching his shirt. “Please.”

The waves smash against the cliff and you curl closer to him. He’s warm, so impossibly warm, but you can’t seem to seek equilibrium and match temperatures.

The noise won’t be drowned out.

Stop, please. Stop, stop, stop.

“I can’t save you,” he begins.

Your heart falters in your chest. The dam in your eyes splinters, the wood that held the water behind your eyes begging to flood.

“‘M a hero, but some battles aren’t meant to be fought by all.”

You whimper.

“I can try to help you, (Name), but no one can save you. You have to want to get better to heal. It’s not going to be easy and you won’t be alone, but you have to be willing to hold yourself together. We can only support you, but you have to be the change you want to happen.”

He tilts your head to him, pointer finger under your chin. The soft carmine bleeds into the blurry (e/c). “I know you can do it. You’re strong and you flourish even when everyone around you tells you you can’t. You’ve outdone the best of the best in your fields.”

You sniffle. “That was once. Hatsume just made a dumb mistake.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re capable, (Name). But you need to trust and believe in yourself. It’s hard; I know. But you’ve gotta if you want to move on.”

Your lip quivers. “Did— did you know?”

His eyebrow raises.

“About Midoriya?”

His face falls into a neutral expression and you swallow thickly. He nods.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“If I did, would you have listened? I think you knew but refused to accept it.”

You sigh, wiping your eyes. “I guess that’s true.”

Silence settles before he breaks it.

“(Name).”

You look at him and watch as he hesitates, looking away from your eyes before speaking.

“I—”

The words fade into the steady sloshing of the water, drowning into the night.

“Don’t give me that look.”

Kind, cerulean eyes follow the twitch of your fingers as you twirl the ends of your hair between your fingertips, until you let it fall back to its original spot.

She lets out an amused hum, spinning her machina fountain pen between the area where her thumb and pointer finger connected. The expensive pen had a pointed tip with edges sharper than the tip of a freshly-shaven knife, curving beautifully into a fine line. The body of it was a gooey, deep decadent chocolate brown mixed with a tint of crimson and carmine that left a particular shine when placed into the light. Thin strips of white and a blush, baby pink spilled onto the body, twisting and curving until it wrapped around the top of the pen.

Wealthy people, you shiver.

“If you continue to burn holes into the pen, it might as well explode.” She tosses the pen up for good measure, showcasing a number of spins before it slips right between her middle and index finger, securely settling it in a perfect pencil hold. “My late husband bought it for me.“

Your heart twists. “Oh.”

She chuckles, lowering her gaze to the pen held in her right hand. “He always spoiled me with lavish gifts. I was so frugal and stingy when I was younger, but he wanted nothing but the greatest for me. Everything I own now is all from him.”

A thin glaze coats her eyes, the pale sapphire flooding into a deep, engulfing azul. The flecks of silver seem to brighten against the cerulean tint, the blacks of her pupils tracing the intricate lines carefully. Long sections of white hair fall around her face, covering nothing more than the corners of her eyes and the highest end of her cheekbones.

“Is that your quirk?” The question jolts her out of her mind, eyebrows furrowing at your directness. You swallow, peeking at the window to protect your mind from her piercing eyes. “You’re young— or at least you look like it. Your husband passed away. Your quirk must stop you from aging, right? Because you don’t look older than 26 at most.”

There’s shifting in front of you, but your eyes refuse to look back ahead. Embarrassment burns in your cheeks and the fear of overstepping swirls within your gut.

“You should have stayed quiet,” the voice reprimands. “You’re so dumb, (Name).”

I was so dumb, why did I say that? She probably hates me now. She’s going to kick me out and I’m going to be stuck here forever and it won’t stop and—

“You’re more observant than you let on. But you also like to avoid confrontation, don’t you?” It’s not condescending or patronizing; it’s a factual statement— the truth. There’s no tone other than neutrality and genuinity. “That’s why you’re here today. A bit earlier than I expected you to come around, but you did nevertheless.”

Your lips purse. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She picks up the clipboard, flipping through some pages. “You weren’t completely honest about your past when we first began chatting, were you?”

The silence that lingers answers her question.

“Why not?”

You sigh. She smiles.

“I just . . . didn’t want to.”

“You’re not a burden, (Name),” her hand grabs the delicate pen and begins to trace unintelligible shapes onto the paper. “I understand why you closed yourself off. I read your file, you know. Spoke to Dynamight and Deku about you.”

You still.

What?

The knife of dread, fear, and panic slices it’s way into your heart, carefully tracing the outline of your aorta, atriums, and ventricles. The pointed tips glides over each ridge, caressing the soft tissue and flirting with the idea of piercing its way inside, only to send blood spurting everywhere and leave you cold inside out, once again.

She continues. “They both care for you a lot, in their own ways of course. Deku is much more vocal about his concern, but Dynamight is the silent, brooding type. He expresses his concern through his actions and behavior.”

She spoke to them? To him? Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?

Why didn’t Bakugou tell me?

“Yeah,” you breathe out, averting your eyes to the window outside. Your heart palpitates inside your chest. “That, uhm, really sounds like them.”

The sky is a bright blue today, with not a single cloud in sight. Buildings decorate the slopes of blue, with light shades of gray and dark shades of a hybrid of obsidian black and white.

“What a shame,” the voice pouts. “The view is obstructed. Wasn’t it just so lovely?”

The collar of your shirt is suddenly a tad bit too high, too tight, and suffocating. It clings to your throat, wrapping its fuzzy tendrils around the base, before slowly gliding across the expanse of your skin.

“Doesn’t it just remind you of those beautiful waters? The one near the cliffs, you know. Don’t you just want to go for a swim?” the voice purrs. “I, for one, think it sounds refreshing.”

The tentacles speed their movements, rushing their efforts to close their tendrils around your throat. The inky black swallows your throat, leaking into your lungs. Faster, they move. Tighter, they squeeze. Together, they suffocate you.

“It’s not fun when you’ve gone right back, y’know. Takes the fun out of your misery. Now, you’re all lifeless like a doll. You have no hero to save you. Just what will you do, (Name)?”

The sight in front of your eyes fades from a lovely sky and high rise buildings to a murky, endless bank of water screaming at you to fall below. Like a siren’s call, the kelp sings to you by teasingly waving its green body, luring you down below.

Sweat pools on your forehead, threatening to drip down your neck and onto your shirt. You can see it all now.

You remember it all now— vividly.

The beer. The cliff. The staff worker. The evening sky, the water, the spray of the salty sea, the stabs of the grass. The incessant nagging of the voice— the reminder of him, everything about him and how little you meant to him.

It all washes over you like a tide, overflowing with the means of drowning you to snap you back to reality.

“‘Wake up!’” it screams.

“—(Name)?”

Virdescent eyes bore into yours, pupils dilating as they continue to hold your gaze. The flecks of obsidian and rim of a deep, mysterious amethyst capture your attention.

The kelp twirls.

“(Name)?” A gentle, unnatural hand places itself upon your shoulder. The aroma of distilled rose water permeates your nostrils. “(Name), are you okay?”

The toxic green melts, burning through to reveal a set of pure, bright ruby red eyes.

The sky glimmers.

You blink.

She grins.

He doesn’t react.

You don’t know if that’s good or bad, really.

But the words continue to tumble.

“I— I loved him. That’s what hurts, Katsuki. I loved this man who returned an unobtainable love and I was too blind to see it.”

How foolish am I? How stupid do I have to be to not have seen this further?

“How stupid are you, (Name)?” the voice parrots.

It hurts. You’re tired. Everything is dark. The sky, the grass, your vision, your mind, your thoughts.

The stars in the sky are so faint, so dull. You miss their shine.

You miss the bright lens that were placed above your eyes, lighting up the sky.

Slowly, your world crumbled. Now, it was tumbling, shattering into millions of pieces.

Your chest tightens, and it feels as if you are back in the office, curled into a ball on the verge of suffocation.

You can remember the warm traces of tears spilling from your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. If you close your eyes, it feels as if you’re there, in those stuffy office clothes with the haphazardly thrown stacks of papers and splayed out tools, shattered pieces of glass, and a throbbing heart.

You’re dying. Lifeless. Hopeless.

I just want it all to end, please, please, please—

Warm hands snap you out of your thoughts. Large, calloused hands cup your face, tracing the dull tips of its fingers along the outline of your jaw, thumbs circling comfortingly under the bags of your eyes.

It’s cozy and loving, like warm cider on a chilly autumn day. Your heart pounds in your chest in excitement. Goosebumps erupt on your skin, and an older, kinder voice whispers at you to simply open your eyes.

When you feel the tickling of hair against your head, your eyes flutter open. A warm head bumps against yours, resting itself in the very center of your forehead, as if it fit there. The remedial hands of warmth continue their trek of tracing the outline of your features, encapturing your face in their hold.

Boring into your eyes are Katsuki’s, in all their cherry red glory.

“Bakugou . . . ?”

A hint of doubt flickers across his features. The corners of his eyes crease, and the middle of his brows furrow.

“You’re a cruel monster, (Name).”

“Always hated when you called me that, y’know,” is all he replies with.

He’s close.

“Too close,” the voice reiterates.

Despite the warmth radiating from Katsuki, goosebumps erupt on your skin like a volcano’s molten lava bursting through the surface to cover the earth’s surface in its flames.

Is it from the cold?

“No,” a foreign voice answers.

Red eyes flit to your lips and a shaky exhale leaves your nose.

Is it anticipation?

“Yes,” it responds again.

“Lean in,” it goads. “Give in. Don’t hold back.”

“You’ll hurt him, just like you hurt yourself,” the voice chimes. Your heart plunges into your stomach

The quiet lull of the other voice drowns out the terrors of the voice. “Be his. Just for tonight, let him have you.”

“Okay,” you breathe. The doubt and hesistance leaves you.

He press his lips against yours.

The kiss is a warm caress, one that lets warmth blossom on your own. It’s soft but so sweet, so gooey like maple syrup dripping down your throat. A tinge of cinnamon bleeds into your mouth and the smell of caramel floods your nose.

You pull away first, but Bakugou’s hand keeps your head touching his, staring into the other’s eyes.

Am I going to hurt him? Is this fair to him? Am I using him?

“You’re a horrible person, (Name),” the voice says. You want to agree.

The foreign voice speaks up. “Listen, (Name). Stay quiet and listen, please.”

“I know you still love him.”

His voice breaks and you feel your heart follow.

No, I don’t. You want to answer.

“But how much of that is true?”

You’re not sure.

“I know how much he matters to you. Izuku matters to me too.”

You want to cry.

“But I won’t give up on you. I never have and never will. Not— not unles you want me to. I won’t chase you if you don’t want me to. But if you’re willing to have me, even just for a bit to let me love you whole, I’ll stay.”

“Katsuki,” your voice breaks. The tears flow. Calloused fingers rub off the tears.

“He may have been your first love, but I intend to be your last.”

You panic. “But what if it takes too long? What if I take too long to lose feelings and you have to try again to make me fall in love with you?”

A warmth envelops you. “As long as you want me, I’ll work as hard for as long as I have in this life to be your final love.”

The heat is familiar and gentle; it doesn’t set your skin aflame, but instead adds a slight increase with every second, adjusting you.

It’s accommodating and loving.

It feels like home.

“It’s him, isn’t it? It always was.”

I was just too blind to see it.

The new voice whispers, “He could never hold it against you; he would always forgive you. All he wants and needs is you. Remember what Mitsuki said? You’re his everything.”

And he is the same to me.

——————————-——————————————

Midoriya is kind.

“Are you sure that’s all you want to order?” A large, scarred hand settles itself upon your smaller one, rubbing the area of your wrist with slow, gentle strokes.

Midoriya is kind in the way that he would help an elderly lady cross the street with her hand wrapped around his arm, guiding her safely to the other side. He is kind that when a child cried in the middle of the sidewalk all alone, he would approach them with nothing but a gentle smile on his face and kneel down to their height, offering his help.

Midoriya Izuku is a good man with a big heart and a bright smile. He is the sickly saccharine type of person— a man who despite being made of hard muscle, is truly all marshmallow and gumdrops.

He is a glorious man who chose to devote his life to saving the world— but that in itself is what made him so utterly selfish.

“He loves you, (Name).” the soft voice whispers. “Do you know that?”

His love is not enough for me to stay any longer.

“I ordered a whole bowl of pasta, Midoriya. I think that’s more than enough,” you grin, sliding your arm out of his grasp. He pouts like a kicked puppy who was just scolded by their own for eating one too many dog treats.

Maybe long ago, your heart would have squeezed at the expression. Now, no butterflies erupt in your stomach. No heat spreads to your neck and to the tips of your cheeks. All that churns in your stomach is the acidic sips of a mocktail you had and the glass of water you downed before going to meet Midoriya.

“You know, you can still call me Izuku,” Midoriya begins, retracting his hand from your side of the table. You dig your fork into the pasta, swirling it around in the plate. “I’m still your Izuku, right?”

What am I supposed to say to that?

You peer up, watching as his emerald irises swim with a fondness and intimacy you could only picture thousands of women would die to see Izuku Midoriya, Japan’s greatest hero, to gaze at them with.

But to you, it is meaningless.

“Do you pity him?” the gentle voice asks. “Do you pity yourself for how blindly you behaved as him, too?”

In front of you, you hear a group of girls squeal, “Oh my gosh, it’s Pro-Hero Deku!”

A big bite of pasta with a pointed smile is all you offer Midoriya as he turns to face the approaching group of gals murmuring in excitement, asking to take photos.

At least the pasta is good.

——————————-——————————————

“Say it,” the voice utters.

The city lights at the ripe time of midnight are a beautiful sight, filling the world with a plethora of icy and earthy tones. Giggly couples stumble down the street, hand in hand, high off of joy and young love. Teenagers skate down the sidewalks, hollering profanities and excited cheers into the night sky.

The whole world is bright and alive around you, despite the pit of black surrounding it.

“Will you let this moment slip? After all you’ve gone through?”

Midoriya’s hand once again reaches for yours, scarred fingers entangling themselves with yours. The pupils in the greens of his eyes seem to shrink as your palms make contact, and a faint blush sprouts on his cheeks.

In the moonlight, Midoriya Izuku is alive.

He is glowing brightly in the light of the city, with his unruly mess of curls draping over the tops of his eyes.

But beside him, you stand in the darkness of his shadows. In the presence of the Symbol of Peace, Izuku Midoriya, you are nothing more than the spirit that he is championed to destroy.

Once again, you are nothing more than a lost soul falling into the hands of death.

“Is that all you will ever be? Will you let all of your hard work dwindle to waste? Will you fall back into his arms only to repeat this same miserable cycle?”

Tips of blurry blonde spikes materialize in the depths of your mind. The crashing of waves against rocks bleeds into your ears and the pricks of blades of grass send tingles exploding across your skin.

“How much will it take until you truly break, (Name)?”

A pair of loving carmine eyes stare back at you, a bright twinkle in the corners of its pupils. They are a reminder of the gentle kiss and the tender love you had experienced only days before.

‘I want you, Katsuki.’

He had cried, when he heard those words.

‘Please, will you let me love you the way you loved me?’

You never thought you could reduce a man as powerful as Bakugou into a mess of joyous tears. But life has a habit of surprising people in the most unexpected ways.

I’m sorry, Midoriya, you long to say. I’m sorry you are slipping down the path you forced me to tumble down. But I’ll save you in the way you failed to save me in before. I’ll right your wrongs.

Not for you, but for me.

“I can’t do this,” you rip your hand out of his grasp, stepping back. “I can’t do this to you, Midoriya.”

He jumps, startled by your abrupt movements. He opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt.

“I can’t live with you in my life— not anymore.”

“(Name), what? What are you saying right now?” Midoriya reaches his hand out to anchor you— or himself— but you widen the gap between you two.

“I’m talking about you— I’m talking about us,” you gasp. The waves slosh in the bottomless pit of the sea. “You can’t tell me you didn’t see it like everyone else did. You can’t lie to me and say what you did wasn’t purposeful!”

Boots smush into the wet mud, slipping off the bottom of your foot. “_____________!” Midoriya exclaims.

The beating of your heart smashes against your ribcage and blood rushes to your face. “You were given so many chances, Izuku,” you cry as the tears finally slip. The bottle fissures and the dam explodes; the beast is unleashed. “You gave up. You gave up on yourself, you gave up on me, you gave up on us. You always have— you always will. You never took a single chance because you never cared enough!”

There are tears streaming down his own face, distorting the sight of those freckles you once adored so much. You had once believed them to be kisses from the gods themselves. Now, they seemed nothing more than a painter’s deception of beauty.

Midoriya weeps. “________________!”

No longer do you crumble under the weight of Midoriya’s tears. You stand proudly under the pour of your own.

“You’re forgetting someone, aren’t you, (Name)?” the voice curls around you, peering at you gleefully. She giggles. “You should go and surprise him, (Name).”

Katsuki. Your heart shines, despite the pain of the tears.

You turn away from Midoriya, sparing nothing more than a turn if your head. “Thank you for giving me the story of a lifetime, but this is the end of us. Our chapter closes today, Izuku.”

Around you, the city blurs. “The story of us wasn’t meant to last a lifetime. It was meant to be for only a moment.“

And slowly, so does Midoriya. You laugh, “But it is one I’ll never forget.”

Stuffing your hands into your coat, you move away, preparing to cross the street. But you pause before your foot meets the pavement.

“Midoriya,” you murmur, glancing side-to-side as the cars fly by, before looking back at him.

He stares at you, petrified, as if you were a ghost of his past.

Maybe, you are.

Maybe, you have truly become another ghost in his world.

“Do you remember me?”

The Symbol of Peace stares at you like a deer in headlights, frozen and lost. For the first of many times, Izuku Midoriya is clueless.

A smile plays on your lips.

“Who knew you could bring the most powerful man to his knees?” she pinches your cheek affectionately.

Fractured excuses and phrases of rambles slip past his lips, sending circles spinning upon circles.

You know the truth.

So does he.

“Don’t think about it too hard, Izuku.”

As you step onto the street, the moonlight falls upon you, covering Midoriya in its pit of dark.

Finally, you burn brighter than the stars above.

——————————-——————————————

The clock reads 2:37 AM.

You remember this road and the corner where Bakugou caught your arm.

You remember running and running until you got to the convenience store, pouring liquor while sitting on the hill. Downing bottle after bottle, bleeding away into a pool of water.

You remember the lights flashing, the salty spray of sea against your skin.

But you don’t remember the feeling or the pain of your broken heart.

It’s all gone.

It’s over.

The memories remain, the sleepless nights, the sober-less dreams.

But the pain does not.

For the first time, it’s gone; the wound has healed. The rift in your heart has shut.

“Call him.”

Frozen fingers reach into the depths of your purse, unlatching the metal clip to reach your phone as you trek down the street. With a few swipes, you press the call button.

Two rings pass before you hear a click and a groggy, gruff voice. A warm grin plays upon your lips.

“Hi, Katsuki.”

You chatter into the night, walking with a pep in your step. Muffled groans can be heard on the other side.

The voice sighs wistfully, resting her head on your shoulder. “Young love,” she twirls her hair around her finger, lips curling into a pleased smile. “How romantic it is, to be so young and utterly in love.”

Unwrapping her limbs from yours, she slips away into the dark, melting into the shadows of the moon. The wisps of her hair fade into a glimmer that twinkles in the streams of light and her body blows away with the breeze of the night.

You check the time in your phone.

2:37 AM, the clock reads.

The edges of your eyes crinkle.

He knew.

——————————-——————————————

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Shoto & s/o stressing about the exam - headcanons Shoto & his pregnant girlfriend - headcanons Katsuki & Shoto when someone confesses to them - headcanons Aizawa & Gojo with s/o struggling with self care - headcanons Bakugo, Midoriya, Todoroki & s/o dealing with anxiety - headcanons BNHA boys & s/o during a panic attack - headcanons BNHA boys & reader having hard time with family Deku & Bakugo & Shinso with a friend struggling with autism Dabi & his girlfriend with a dying aunt - headcanons Bakugo & his girlfriend dealing with the period Hawks & Gojo with s/o insecure about being overweight Kaminari & sexually assaulted friend - headcanons Izuku & s/o in mourning - headcanons Bakugo & s/o in mourning - headcanons Dabi & s/o in mourning - headcanons Katsuki, Shinso & Sero with s/o feeling anxious - headcanons Kirishima & Tomioka with s/o facing a sleazy friend of their deceased mother - headcanons Dabi & s/o with mother tearing her down - headcanons Izuku Midoriya & s/o having a flu - headcanons Aizawa & Hawks with s/o having suicidal thoughts - headcanons Shinso & Denki with s/o struggling with epilepsy - headcanons Shoji & Amajiki with a friend who lost their CC stuff - headcanons Dabi & Twice with a girlfriend hurt in the past - headcanons Sero, Denki & Kirishima with s/o struggling with depression - headcanons

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[mypimpademia]

— Darlin’ I Don’t Wish You Well, When You Ain’t w Me

Ex!Bakugo x gn!reader

TW; Swearing, Bakugos a bit toxic but he doesn’t act on anything

Note: Part 2 (SMAU) is here !

⇶ While Katsuki wouldn’t be a bad boyfriend, he’d be a god awful ex

⇶ He’d treat you well during your relationship, actually, much to everyone’s surprise

⇶ Tends to all your needs and always makes sure that you knew how much he loves and cares for you

⇶ Your relationship wouldn’t be anywhere near bad, it’d be amazing actually and he makes a great boyfriend

⇶ But the way Katsuki acts in other areas is what leads to the downfall of your relationship

⇶ His ego, the way he treats and speaks to others, and other bad habits

⇶ He’s confided in you about his personal struggles with these things, and of course you were understanding and consoled him

⇶ But at the same time, you couldn’t stand seeing him act like such an asshole to people, especially since he acknowledges his issues but it seems to do little to nothing about them

“I can’t do this with you anymore, Katsu.”

You and Katsuki didn’t argue as much as people would think. And when you did, a lot of them were easily talked out after a quick intermission for both of you to calm down instead of screaming at each other. But there was one repetitive issue that you two never seemed to resolve.

A repetitive issue with him.

“What? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Katsuki heaved.

He knew exactly what you meant. He just hoped you didn’t actually mean it.

“I can’t be with someone who’s just such a fucking dick to everyone and anyone,” you ranted. “I mean seriously, would it really kill you to at least have basic human decency?”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. Truly, he’s too blinded by his own ego to understand what the problem is. It’s not like he treated you poorly, so why do you care so much?

“Oh my fucking god,” Katsuki whispered. “Why does this shit even matter to you so much? You act like this affects you somehow.”

The crazy part is, that he knows his ego is getting in the way of him seeing through this. But even then, he still can’t wrap his head around it.

“Are you deadass?” You gaped at him, completely in shock that he’d even think that, let alone say that to you. “‘Y/n, what’s wrong with Bakugo this time?’ And ‘Y/n, why’s your boyfriend such a fucking cunt?’ But you’re really gonna tell me this doesn’t affect me?”

“I mean, fuck, Katsuki, your head is so far up your own ass sometimes,” now, you were yelling, and Katsuki’s heart was sinking at the thought of what was to come. “You treat me right, and I won’t say that you don’t, but you can’t be that dense to not see how what you do bounces back onto others.”

His breathing pattern was all over the place, and his heart was beating rapidly. Katsuki wouldn’t have been surprised if he passed out right there.

“Okay, okay. You’re right, it does, I’m sorry,” he raked a hand through his spiked hair. “But what do you mean you ‘can’t do this anymore’?”

He wasn’t trying to deflect, and you both knew that. But the weight that the four words held was unbearable.

“I mean, I can’t be with you anymore.”

⇶ Katsuki isn’t a begger by any means, but he begged that day

⇶ He told you how much he loved you, and needed you, that you mean the world to him

⇶ And none of it was a ploy to get you to stay, he really did feel that way about you

⇶ He told you’d he’d change in a heartbeat, just say the word, and he would if it meant you wouldn’t leave him

⇶ But you left anyways, and to say that it crushed Katsuki would be an understatement

⇶ Between dying and admitting that he cried his eyes out for a week straight every night, he’d much rather die

⇶ Katsuki got his act together that same week, hoping that this was just something the two of you could move past if it was quickly resolved

⇶ He wouldn’t even call anyone an extra, or refer to Izuku as “Deku”, and everytime that he’d literally bite his tongue to keep him from doing so, he’d glance in your direction hoping that you were giving him a look of approval

⇶ But you hardly looked at him anymore, and when you did it wouldn’t even last a second

⇶ And his blood boiled when you moved onto someone else a few months later

⇶ You weren’t even dating the person, just casual back and forth flirting and talking

⇶ But it made Katsuki sick to even think of you with someone else

⇶ When you were dating, he always “joked” about how he wouldn’t want you to move on and be happy with someone else if he died while the two of you were together

⇶ But he wasn’t joking, and he doesn’t you to be happy with anyone else if he’s dead or alive, to be honest

⇶ Of course, he wants you to be happy and healthy and hopes you get all the good things you deserve… just not in a relationship sense when it’s not with him.

⇶ He acted like none of it bothered him, but it did

⇶ Katsuki wasn’t going to go as far as harassing you and your new partner. He’s thought about it, of course, but he knew that wouldn’t win you back

⇶ He also wasn’t going to go around with other people to get you back either, because that definitely wouldn’t work.

⇶ Not only would it not work, but Katsuki just isn’t the type to get around with people in general

⇶ He’s selective with who he gives his time to, and when he’s emotionally invested in something or someone, he goes all in, so he’d really hate to waste his own energy like that

⇶ Someway, somehow, despite being the one that got broken up with, his ego inflated even more when you left him

⇶ Sure he cleaned up his act, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a cocky asshole

⇶ When he first sees you with your new fling, he wanted to throw up at first, but eventually he got over it because in his head, you’ll never find anyone better

⇶ And he wasn’t totally wrong about that either

⇶ If anyone ever asked you, you don’t think you could even remotely lie and say that he treated you poorly in any way

⇶ Sure, you had your moments like any couple, but truthfully, he set a very high standard for your future partners

⇶ Katsuki always paid for everything, took you places, amazing dates (even if they usually weren’t expensive, because he knows the experience counts over everything), attentive to all your needs, never forgot important days, hardly even raised his voice at you despite his rough demeanor, and even more that you could go on about forever

⇶ He was an amazing boyfriend, really. So much so that even you weren’t sure if you’d find someone better

⇶ He might not actually do anything, but he will most definitely talk shit about your new little thing to Kirishima and the bakusquad

⇶ You expect that from him, but when Sero and Mina told what all he was saying (not to be snitches for fake, just to let you know that he’s going a bit crazy without you), you were honestly a bit shocked at how far he was going

⇶ They went from being Katsuki’s normal hater-ass comments to just nitpicky and spiteful

“Damn, did you see what the fuck they had on, I feel bad that Y/n even has to walk around with that.”

“That motherfucker seriously brought them _? Y/n hates that shit, it’ll be no fuckin’ surprise if they leave that loser.”

⇶ And while he won’t actively try to force himself back into your life, he can and will take every opportunity that will even slightly worm him back in

⇶ Opportunities usually present themselves in the form of group work, when the teacher still habitually places you two in the same group because they still think you’re together

⇶ And don’t let it be a project that’s just for a pair, because then he’ll LEAP for that chance

⇶ Even though there’s tension between you, for obvious reasons, you don’t feel awkward being alone with him. Even after months of hardly even looking at him

⇶ Katsuki is the type of ex you’ll always feel comfortable around, because he’ll always keep a special place for you in his heart

⇶ Still looks at you with pure adoration, even if he wants to gouge his eyes out with a spork when your new talking stage flashes you a smile across the library you’re working in

⇶ Still pays for everything, like the coffee and snacks you go get on your break, even if you insist that you can pay on your own. Granted, you’re much more angry about it this time around than giggly like before

⇶ Still takes you to one of your favorite hangout spots, even though the sweet memories you share there make both of your chests hurt now

⇶ Still calls you beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, his baby, angel, doll, etc even if you aggressively tell him to stop. And he does, he tries to at least, but it’s still so second nature to him that it just slips out like he never stopped using those names on you

⇶ Still asks how you’re feeling, how you’re really feeling, if you ate that day, drank enough water, even if you only grunt out short answers everytime

⇶ Eventually, he asks how you and “whatstheirface” are doing to cut through the thick silence

⇶ It catches you off guard, enough for you to raise your head up from your work to meet his eyes for the first time in forever

⇶ All you say is “We’re good”, but Katsuki knows better than that, he knows you better than that, and he chokes back a laugh at how much you suck at lying to him

⇶ All he says is “Y’know you can still come to me if you need anything?”, but you know better than that, you know yourself better than that

⇶ Because if you did talk to him more than you need to, you’d act on your urges to suffocate him with kisses and tell him you miss him, tell him that ‘whatstheirname’ isn’t jack shit compared to him, ask him if it’s too late to come back

⇶ You ask him if he’s talking to someone and he looks at you with adoring eyes, and shakes his head, leading you both back to an uncomfortable silence

⇶ Katsuki thought about telling you that he still loves you, that he misses you, to tell whatstheirname to fuck off, and so much more

⇶ Hell, for a split second he thought about begging again

⇶ The thing about Katsuki is, since he doesn’t like to use his precious time and energy on just anyone, when he views people in a romantic light, he views them as someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with

⇶ Someone that’s his everything, the only person in the world to him, his one and only

⇶ You were his first partner ever, and he wanted you to be his first and last everything

⇶ Which is exactly why you still are to him

⇶ Or you still can be at least, if you came back he’d have no objections, and he doubts that you’d have any either

⇶ The only question is, will you come back?

—

Thank you for reading, comments and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏾 !

#mha #bnha #mha hcs #bnha hcs #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #bakugo x reader #bakugo hcs #bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo my hero academia #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x gender neutral reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha bakugo #bnha bakugo

[hoetachi]

HOW’D I DO? — I. MIDORIYA

➠ izuku midoriya x blk!reader

➠ mulan’s input; deku learns the tootsie roll

➠ c/w: black-coded reader, pet names [princess & baby], typical lowkey toxic family, deku got some seasoning in him

➠ TWO MONTHS AGO you begged midoriya to finally come with you to one of the many family reunions that were being hosted this year. he wasn’t worried about meeting your parents since he already sobbed for their blessing to date you, so seeing them again wasn’t on his mind too much

➠ HOWEVER, meeting the rest of your family was anxiety-inducing especially how you told stories of how judgement they were when it came to whoever you was dating. you gave him a heads up on the secret test that they’ll put him through to see if he was worthy of being you.

“zuku, don’t worry too much about the reunion, okay? if you’re not feeling up to it then i understand baby” you gave him a smile, but he could sense the disappointment behind it, which made his heart ache. when it came to disappointing you, it dug swords into his chest because you deserve the world and more and knowing he couldn’t simply do a single task for you. you were his princess, his baby and disappointment was one thing he never ever want you to feel towards him. so he conjured up a plan to make sure he made an everlasting impression on your relatives

➠ THE MONTHS LEADING up to the reunion, you noticed his constant absence. at first, you passed it off as him being drowned in his hero work and didn’t think much of it until you noticed these disappearances were also happening on his days off or days the both of you would plan something. you would ask him what happened those days and he’ll give you a sweaty panicked answers like ‘so and so said they needed a bit help at their agency’ or ‘all might needs me for so studying for one for all’ and then he’ll check his phone and rush out the shared apartment.

➠ YOUR SUSPICIONS became worse when you found curly pink stands of hair stuck on a shirt or sock of his. the thought of your deku possibly creeping around made your chest tighten and insecure. you started leaving him on delivered or read and also rushed out the house just like him so he could feel how you were feeling until he finally stopped you and actually sat and talked you. “the thought of being unfaithful to you will never cross my mind and the fact my favorite girl is feeling that way is killing me” he confessed making you feel secure about y’all relationship

➠ THE DAY FINALLY CAME and damn deku wished it didn’t appear so suddenly. you peeped his nervousness and the noticeable twitches, you placed hand on his freckles cheek caressing it with your thumb while giving a gentle smile, reassuring him that your family is going to love just as much as you do. his nerves simmered down just enough for him to remember what his goal was today with your family

➠ SO FAR things was going smoothly. deku met everyone and of course they appreciated his polite mannerisms as well how he treats you but they were still wary of him. your mom even made sure to let him know he got your grandparents approval, which he was so gracious for but his work was still not done

➠ EVERYTHING WAS GOING UNTIL you heard one of your aunts yelled ‘EVERYBODY TO THE DANCE FLOOR’ your heart dropped. you loved deku to death but your love could never blind you from the fact your boyfriend couldn’t dance to save his life and you knew this happy moment was going to come to end

➠AS EVERYONE DANCE you couldn’t help but noticed your cousins urging deku to come join the rest of the them as the previous song shifted to the tootsie roll song. you watched as your anxious boyfriend awkwardly made his way to center of the circle that formed and stood and watched everyone around him tell him to bust a move. he locked eyes and you quickly turned your back and gnawed on your bottom lip worriedly, not wanting to watch the train wreck that was going to happen

➠ BUT TO YOUR SURPRISE you didn’t hear words of confusion or disapproval, but of encouragement. you turned around and seen deku effortlessly and rhythmically going along to the beat. your face was blanked as you watched as your cousins and uncles all excitedly join him in the center and hype him up even more before he started getting overwhelmed by the attention

➠ AND ALMOST IN A INSTANT you were in his scarred arms littering his face with loving kisses and praises to match. “i hope y’all getting started on my grand babies” you heard your mom uttered causing an uproar of laughter from your relatives as well a blushing deku

#my hero academia #mha fluff #mha hcs #deku headcanons #deku x black!reader #midoriya x black reader #bnha x black reader #mha x black reader #izuku midoriya x black reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader

[theloveinc]

bakugo x reader - i guess a lil drabble related to my succession!au here! caitie writing? it's more........ no jk im just as surprised as you...

(warning - toxic relationships, sex as business tactic, you wear a thong but gn otherwise i think, made up business lingo idfk)

-

You’re already waiting for him by the time Bakugo makes it back to his office. 

Blazer off and strewn across the arm of the leather armchair you lean against, fingernails clacking away as you type a message on your phone; you look busy, you look sexy, you look mad, though he already knows why you’re here and you waste no time either in looking up from your device to absolutely scour. 

 “Fuckin' what?” he grumbles, throwing his own jacket and stack of files next to yours, refusing to give in to the thought of looking into your eyes, something he knows will cause more of a fire to light up in his veins rather than put him into a business-like mood.

“You said no.” 

“‘Course I did," he responds before you can say anything else. "Your write-up was crap, and I don’t feel like wasting time entertaining unnecessary shit.” 

“It’s a good plan. Would make up the public outburst you had that tanked our stock fifteen percent. You and I both know that.” 

He does, but he doesn't care enough to risk another move that might cause more harm than good. It's not like his sour personality is a secret from the business world or has stopped him from getting what he wanted in the past.

“If you care so much about it just go ‘n get Deku to approve it. Fuck knows all you do when I disagree with your stupid ass ideas is cry and get him to start signing shit, anyway."

“That is not true!��� you hiss, one of Bakugo’s very-clearly-plucked eyebrows immediately raising at the annoyance in your voice. “My advice is great, and yeah, I do think you should take it sometimes.”

“It’s average at best and you fucking know it"—it's actually better than average, way better, it's just hard to say now that Deku's got top spot in the running for CEO, a fact that pisses Bakugo off so badly that he can't even think about your talent lest he lose his mind even more—"You’re just one of the board's little brats. Spoiled rotten.” 

You purse your lips at that, eyes narrowing as he stands up tall. “Like you’re any better. Getting mommy to call competitors anytime one of your shitty deals doesn’t go through.”

He approaches you, hands leaving his pockets as he walks you back into his desk—your ass meeting the oak just as he begins unlocking his cuff links and pushing his sleeves up to the bend of his elbows. You stand there in silence, in faux-battle through your glares, though it’s not much longer before he puts his hands on your waist and jerks you to his chest. 

“Least I do my damn job instead of sucking dick on company time.”

(You don’t remind him that it was actually him on his knees the last time any inappropriate workplace intercourse occurred… nor that it was Kiri’s idea—not yours—to screw your way into Yo Shindo’s board of investors. He already started a fight the first time it came up, lord knows he’d have an aneurysm if used it against him in an argument, too.) 

“Fine,” you wiggle your hips in an attempt to loosen the static between your bodies, but he only seems to get closer: the newly-tenting fly of his slacks digging into the soft dip of your own pants, instead. “Next time I’ll go ask Todoroki for advice then and you can work alone.”

He nips at you where his mouth presses against your cheek, hands splayed on your back to keep you from being pressed into the hard line of wood at your hips. You inhale at the contact, turning your face away from him if only to let his mouth fall next to your ear. 

“Talk to that half and half fucker in front of me, baby,” he whispers, “and you watch what fucking happens.” 

His fingers dip themselves into the band of your panties, tugging the elastic away from your skin in such a manner that the string of your thong gets pulled taut between your ass cheeks. 

“Bakugo…” you warn, pulling back to glare at him though simultaneously giving into the fight, your hands leaving your hips to swat his away from behind you before they’re allowed to do anything more lewd.

He huffs, though his chest rumbles in the most silent of laughs as he catches your palms in his, swinging them back around til he’s holding them between you at your front. 

“You’re such a damn tease,” he leans down close enough to touch his nose with yours, your breath warm and enticing on his lips. “Gimme a kiss for wasting my time.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m reporting you to HR.” 

“Like hell you are. Kiss me.” 

 “I’m gonna kiss Deku.” 

Hands still tangled with yours, he tears away for only a moment to fake a gag over his shoulder. 

“That’s even worse!”

"You deserve it."

And he doesn't exactly disagree.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo #ooga booga sfjailsdhflafhu iwiehfkjhdhfj adje *monkey noises* *banging on my cage* #the beginning is bad sorry i just hhad to add it to get to the dialogue #it made me want to switch directions to angsty but i already had everything written #anyway #caitie post #caitie things #gen #succession au

[http-tokki]

You were meant to be mine

~prohero!bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: aged up bakugou, toxic bakugou, smut, explicit language, possessive/toxic relationships, dark content, borderline abusive relationship, dub con ~ wc: 840

Katsuki doesn't handle your breakup very well; psychotic levels of not handling things well. From constantly texting and calling, sending flowers, showing up at your job, waiting outside for you to get off work, following you to the gym, and walking behind you as you rush home, Everything that could warrant you getting a restraining order, but because he is a hero and has the entire fucking system in his pocket, everyone brushes it off as him being concerned for the wellbeing of his girlfriend. 

Your phone blinks again with a new message. 

Answer your phone. I need to talk to you.

More messages follow.

Baby, please, I miss you. Call me.

I'm sorry, can you please call me.

Answer your fucking phone. I swear to god. 

I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to be so rude. Please just answer your phone or call me. I need to talk to you. 

Baby, please.

You refuse to answer, fearing to let him back in because you love this type of desperation. A small part of you screams in joy every time a message comes through, excited to see how much he begs for some form of contact. Bakugou needed you, the great pro hero was metaphorically on his knees for you, pleading with you, and you weren't ready to give that up. 

Princess, I'm begging you. Answer me before I lose my fucking mind. Please, angel, talk to me.

Your stomach twists, and you're so close to giving in and texting him to come over and bend you over the couch so he can fuck you good and dumb, filling you up so you are tied to him forever. You bite down on your bottom lip, teeth digging into ravaged flesh as you battle your logical self. Logic wins out, and you let your phone ring all night. 

Umm, idk what I was going to write here because there was a massive gap, but it was filler about you hanging out with Izuku, cause you two were close before you and Katsuki got together, and that's what sends Bakugou over the edge. He then breaks into your house, and this is the scene we have, lmao. I told y'all this is draft dumping.

So you get home one day, and he is sitting on your once-shared couch. All the lights are off to avoid giving him away in case you had brought home Izuku. Katsuki's imagination had run wild with that scenario. There were two paths he could go down. One, chase Midroiya out of your apartment with the little knife he had bought with him, ending his hero image, OR make Deku watch while he fucks you, reminding you and his former friend who you belong to. Either way, he was about to ruin his future and didn't care. You were getting back together with him even if he had to hold you hostage. You only notice someone else is in your apartment when you hear his boot knock against the coffee table. You jump, shopping bags falling from your hands as they fly towards your bag, searching for the pepper spray you keep.

"Relax, it's me." he drawls from the darkness. 

Your heart stops as you recognise the voice. "What the fuck, Katsuki?" your fingers wrap around the small aerosol in your bag. 

The couch creaks as he stands. "I could ask you the same thing," heavy footsteps echo in your still-dark apartment. "Deku? Really?"

"Yes, because we are friends. Am I not allowed to have friends?" 

Katsuki's chuckle is low and menacing. "No, because I saw the way he looked at you, and I don't like it," you feel the warmth radiating off his body as he stops before you. "Only I'm allowed to look at you like that. I'm the only one who can think about you that way." He places a hand against your chest, fingers digging into your collarbones, itching to reach up and wrap around your throat. "I'm the only one who can kiss you the way you like" You feel his lips ghost along your cheek.

Your grip on the can of mace slackens, your whole body giving into his touch as his other hand rests on your hip. 

"I'm the only one who can grab you like this" his fingers slide up to the base of your throat, squeezing lightly. "the only one who can slide their cock in your mouth and watch you gag and drool while you try so hard to swallow me" the hand on your hip tightens, pulling you closer against his hard body. Your head spins at the closeness, your heart pounding in your chest, and your stomach twisting because you're going to fuck him. You've decided that you're about to fuck your crazy stalker, yet hero boyfriend turned ex in your doorway, and would you come out of it alive? At this point, you didn't care. 

"Do you want me to do that?" Katsuki's mouth ghosts over yours. "Do you want my cock in you, huh?" 

a/n: thats all i got lmao

#bakugo katuski #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bnha katsuki #this was in my drafts #bakugou katsuki smut

[nariko-senpai]

MY HOT TAKES ON ANIME/MANGA FANDOMS

Disclaimer: These are my opinions based off from interactions and my own views on the fandoms. Please don't come after me :/

My Hero Academia

Probably one of THE MOST TOXIC FANDOMS IN ANIME. I've seen so many messed up ships and fanfiction from MHA, I SWEAR IF I SEE DEKU X LITERALLY ANY ADULT I WILL DO A BACKFLIP OFF A CLIFF 💀 They're so unhinged and it reflects badly on the story. THE FANDOM LITERALLY HATES ON ONE ANOTHER. I've seen so many fights on wHiCh pErSon ShOuLd DeKu EnD uP wItH I'm so over it 😭 Also you get all the cringy cosplayers and pov videos from this fandom in particular. I have never seen a normal MHA fan apart from myself.

Demon Slayer

Generally okay, except for the SPOILERS. This fandom spoils so much, and without warning as well. But generally a pretty good fandom, just avoid the sibling shippers and Douma simps. Everyone is pretty tame tho, and generally polite. Everyone learnt how to be kind after having Tanjiro as the MC 😌

Attack on Titan

I SAID DEMON SLAYER SPOILS BUT THIS FANDOM IS ON A WHOLE OTHER LEVEL. It's like this fandom's goal is to spoil all the new readers/watchers as soon as the Google aot 💀 AND YOU ARGUE SO MUCH. Post a theory? Instantly get hurled abuse. Post eremika fanart? Instantly gets abused and attacked. YOU CAN'T TAKE A BREAK. But I do treasure the people who are just trying to survive the ending, they're the real ones 🤌

Jujutsu Kaisen

I LOVE THIS FANDOM. One of my favourite fandoms, y'all have the most unhinged humour and posts the goofiest shit but I'm so here for it. Fandom mainly consists of simps and psychopaths, but YOU'RE SO FUNNY. Again, you get spoils like all the other fandoms, but this is one of my fav fandoms, dark humour is where it's at 😃🤟

Haikyuu

I swear, y'all ship everyone together, no one is straight lmao. But since the majority of characters are guys, you had to work with what you had ig 😀HAIKYUU HAS THE BIGGEST FANFICTION BASE THO, THERE ARE SO MANY FANFICTIONS! But they're actually good..? Will admit, wrote Haikyuu fanfiction, and everyone is a simp as well. I see you Kuroo and Oikawa simps 👀 Pretty cool as long as you avoid the smutty fanfictions and fanart.

Should I do a part 2, and if so, what fandoms?? 👀

#anime #anime and manga #animanga #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ju jutsu kaisen #haikyuu #haikyū!!

[thefiery-phoenix]

GROUNDED TO REALITY (YANDERE DEKU X READER)

Hey everyone, guess who's back in business?!!!😏😌 So, I'll be writing from now on and I just hope my account doesn't get deleted like the previous one. I hope you guys enjoy and forgive me if my writing sucks, it's been a while. And also, guess who officially turned 17 today 🥳

You had a fondness and passion for books ever since you were a child. The feeling of just delving into a world of fiction, where life wasn't complicated and didn't contain the toxicity of the real world made you feel at ease and gave you a sense of serenity, a feeling of tranquility to be precise. You've often found yourself getting lost in the fictional world, disregarding reality at times. Was it a coping mechanism for you? You weren't sure, but your parents didn't like the way you always preferred your books and novels to things happening in real life. Your parents owned a multi million dollar business empire, you being the only child of theirs would be next in line to inherit their large and vast fortune. Your parents weren't pleased when you informed them about your future plans to become a writer when they wanted you to be moulded into the perfect young successor they thought you'd be

"You're not going to waste your time sitting and writing silly childish stories!" your father bellowed on top of his lungs. You hated the way every night would end in an argument these days ever since your parents caught wind of you working on a new novel. "They're not silly childish stories! If you don't know about what I'm doing you're in no position to judge me" you retorted and glared at your father. Your mother had an icy expression on her face as she set her fork and knife on the table with a rather loud clatter and spoke in a cold voice "Where are your manners? Is that how you talk to your parents?" You just grumbled under your breath and stormed off to your room and shut the door behind you, ignoring your parents yelling at you to come downstairs to finish your dinner

That however, was just a single incident on how your parents tried to control your life. While you wanted to take a course for writing and establish your name in the writing industry, your parents forced you to attend the entrance exam of UA Academy, the most prestigious academy for upcoming and rising heroes of Japan. You had no intention of becoming a hero, ever. Sure, you always fantasized about saving people and you've had plenty of experience on how to write the personality for a hero but that didn't mean you wanted to become a hero yourself. Your quirk was your lucky factor, which enabled you to shoot black crystal spikes from the ground, instantly piercing through whatever your target is. You managed to get into the UA Academy and you had to admit, it honestly wasn't that bad

Out of all the people you've managed to befriend, you felt more attached and closer to Izuku Midoriya, a literal embodiment of sunshine. He was kind, optimistic and sweet. He always made sure you took your meals properly and stayed hydrated whenever you were working on your novel. Whenever you'd tell him about whatever scene or plot you were working on, he'd listen to you with rapt attention, with a look in his eyes that you meant the world to him, because you did. What you had no idea about was the fact that he was starting to grow obsessed with you. He couldn't stop thinking about you day after day as time progressed. He loved everything about you, you said you weren't sure if you were ever going to end up with someone because of your flaws and frankly, it just broke his heart. Though he held your hands and comforted you, the thought and very prospect of you ever ending up with someone other than him made him livid

You were too busy in your fantasy world to notice his red flags and suspicious behavior like how he knew literally everything about you, your daily schedule and not to mention him getting absolutely territorial and possessive over you when someone else approached you for anything. You just brushed off his behavior which was something you shouldn't have done, little did you know, you'd end up paying dearly and gravely for this negligence of yours. As much as he loved and admired your determination, he really wanted you to take care of yourself as well. He could see the listless red bleary eyes of yours and the dark circles beneath your eyes, a result from your lack of sleep and self care. He chided you like a mother hen and made sure to feed you during the lunch period because clearly, you weren't capable of taking care of yourself properly and he saw himself as your protector

One day as a result of you getting a low score on one of your tests, your father, out of sheer anger and fury threw your book into the fireplace, burning your hardwork and letting it go up in flames. You could only stare in horror with silent tears falling down your eyes as you tried to salvage whatever you could though your hands were burning. "I can't believe I was ever going to hand over the company to a disgrace like you" your father hissed as he walked out of the room, however you didn't have the energy to fight back against him. The next day when you were unusually quiet, Deku noticed it immediately of course. He noticed everything about you, your moods and your thoughts. Upon asking you what was wrong and when you filled him in about the situation at home, he found himself growing angry at your parents. How dare they stop his beloved from doing something you loved?

He already had plans to take you for himself and with this information, it just sped up his process. He didn't want you suffering from all the toxicity of the society, you were an angel. HIS angel, who deserves to be free and happy, with HIM of course. So he did what he thought was right by drugging you and taking you in the middle of the night. When you woke up, you were surprised to find yourself in a room which wasn't yours. After you got to know Deku's real intentions, surprisingly, you didn't feel like fighting back against him. At first, he was confused. Perhaps you were playing some sort of trick on him to gain his trust but when he watched and observed your behavior for a while, you were suspiciously calm about the whole situation at hand

You were tired of being the perfect golden child that always had to obey the rules and make your parents proud which never gave you time to work on your writing. Deku just hugged you and told you that he loved you for being you, that you were perfect in his eyes. When he said he was proud of you and your incredible writing talents, that's when you broke down and softly sobbed into his shoulder as he gently caressed your head and rubbed soft comforting circles on your back. You'd be lying if you didn't dream about moments like this from all the books and novels you'd been reading

Deku was going to keep you grounded to reality, with him by clipping your wings so you wouldn't fly away from him, which is the last thing he needs. Don't worry darling, he'll take good care of you and you'll be able to write your books once more. You won't be able to publish them though, not even under a fake account because he's really paranoid about people finding you and taking you away from him. And besides, he also feels like your talent would be wasted on undeserving people who wouldn't be able to understand your feelings through your writing like he did if you published your works. As for your parents, he'd deal with them in such a way that they'll be begging him for death after he's done with them. Of course he won't tell you what he's done with them though, the last thing he wants to do is make you scared of him. He loves you, you know... just make sure you show him some love too through those forced cuddle sessions he enforces on you before he hides your books and writing material. He has done that before and will continue to do so till you eventually give him what he wants, so there's no fighting it

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