😍😍

Kicking my feet and giggling

another new year with bakugou katsuki.

One more hour ‘til the New Year.

“So,” you started, “we’re about to ring in another year. Guess I’m stuck with you again, huh?”

Bakugou paused from tidying up the scattered toys in your shared bedroom. The gears in his head need a moment to get to processing.

“Hah?”

“It’s just hitting me, you know? I’ve been putting up with you for how long now? Feels like forever.”

A scowl immediately made itself known in his lips, unsure if you’re joking or not. “The hell are you gettin’ at?”

You tapped your chin as though deep in thought. “Maybe it’s not too late to return you to your parents. They probably miss having you around, anyway.”

“You’re jokin’.”

Bakugou’s eyes blink dumbfoundedly.

“Does your parents have a no-return policy?”

His voice dropped to a grumble, and his brows furrowed. He finishes tidying up the toys and joins you on the bed, cuddling close to you (even if he doesn’t consider it cuddling, moreso invading your personal space—but you’re his wife, so he gets a pass).

“As if. You think you can just ship me off like I’m some Amazon package? No way in hell, dummy. You’re stuck with me.”

And I’ll gladly be stuck with you for eternity, he finds himself wanting to say but refrains from doing so.

“Stuck with you, huh? That’s a bold statement, Katsu. What if I do want to send you back?” You laughed softly.

Bakugou snaked his arms around you, pushing himself impossibly closer to the point where you could tease him for being too clingy, his lips tugging into a pout he’d never admit to. “You can’t. You said yes when I proposed. You walked down the aisle. You said ‘for better or worse.’ That’s on you.”

You smiled, combing your hands through his hair. It may appear all spiky and rigid, but you’ve learned that it’s actually fluffy and soft—definitely well taken care of.

“I don’t remember that part. I think you dragged me down the aisle, all grumpy and scowling.”

“I didn’t drag you anywhere. You were practically sprintin’ to get hitched to me.”

“Was I?”

“You were,” he scoffs, but it’s soft, as if thankful of the fact. “And now you’re mine forever. No refunds, no returns, no exchanges.”

The sound of your laugh is something that’ll never get old to him. He could play it on repeat and never choose to turn it off.

“Forever’s a long time, Katsu.”

“Forever’s not a long time when I get to spend it with you,” he says. It’s the truth, and he can never bring himself to lie to you. Not now, not ever.

Because if anything, Bakugou Katsuki loves with his whole heart, puts every piece of himself in the things he does and has done, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you settle for anyone less.

“Spend it with the little brats, too.” Ah, your two daughters have him wrapped around their little fingers.

You rolled your eyes. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Definitely.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together. He looks at you with this all too familiar look, as if asking for a simple thing.

“And don’t even joke about tryin’ to get rid of me. You’d be lost without me.”

“Oh, absolutely helpless,” you tease, indulging him with a soft, chaste kiss.

Bakugou snorts. “Whatever.”

“Forever, right?”

“Forever,” Bakugou said firmly, resting his forehead against yours. His voice dropped into a quieter, almost shy tone. “And don’t forget, you’re stuck with me, too. No way I’m lettin’ you go.”

Your heart melted a little at his rare softness, and you kissed his cheek. “Fine, Katsu. I’ll keep you. But only because the return policy’s expired.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“No, you’re lucky I love you,” you joked.

“Damn right I am,” he replied, choosing to enjoy this serene moment with you rather than bothering to watch the same old boring fireworks to celebrate the new year an hour later.

Your husband can recreate any fireworks shows any day, anyway.

SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

Callum Turner

I don’t write I just fantasize about it and then read fics

:)

CHAPTER 7: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 2.4k

warning: ANGST

an: I apologize in advance

---

If there’s one thing about Katsuki Bakugo, it’s that he gets what he wants. Ever since he was a little boy—whether it was a packet of spicy ramen he begged his mom for at the grocery store, a limited-edition All Might card, or becoming the Number One Hero—he made sure it happened.

He never considered himself spoiled. He worked hard to earn what he truly deserved. But as he stands at your doorstep, his sharp crimson eyes locked onto yours, he can’t help but think how utterly spoiled he is just to be in the presence of someone so utterly captivating.

When you said yes to going to the hero gala with him, it was as if the air around him turned lighter. Since the day he met you in that gym, he’d been drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. There was something about you—an allure, an unshakable pull—that stole the breath right out of his lungs.

And now, seeing you here, framed by the soft glow of your porch light, his chest tightens. You’re radiant. The long black dress hugs your curves like it was made for you, and those dainty white heels showcase your painted toes like a finishing touch. Your hair falls gracefully, brushing against your collarbones, and the smoky eyeshadow accentuates the depths of your gaze.

“You look gorgeous angel.” he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. 

The nickname is new, unfamiliar, but it rolls off his tongue like it was meant for you. Judging by the way your lips curve into a soft, fond smile, he knows you don’t mind it one bit.

Standing on your tiptoes, you reach up to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, innocent, but it’s enough to send his heart into overdrive. He feels foolish, like some lovesick teen, but he can’t help it. That small act of affection sets his world spinning.

“You ready?” you ask, your arm sliding effortlessly into his. Your touch feels natural, like it belongs there.

He nods, leading you toward the sleek limo waiting outside. It’s extravagant, almost out of place parked in front of your humble home, but it’s a small price to pay for a night spent by your side.

“Don’t trip,” he mutters under his breath as he holds the door open for you. It’s his clumsy way of saying, Be careful. His concern is subtle but endearing, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

The ride to the gala is quiet but charged with unspoken tension. Your eyes meet his in stolen glances, neither of you holding the gaze long enough to risk unraveling whatever fragile balance exists between you.

When you finally arrive, the flashing lights and deafening chatter of paparazzi hit like a tidal wave. Cameras snap, and voices rise in speculation about Bakugo’s stunning “arm candy.” Without a second thought, he shields you, pulling you close to his side as the chaos unfolds.

“You good?” he asks once you’re safely inside, his brows furrowed in that familiar way that somehow makes your heart flutter.

Your soft laughter is enough to disarm him. Reaching up, you smooth the strand of ash-blond hair that had fallen loose during the commotion. The simple act is so tender it nearly breaks him.

“I’m good,” you reply, your voice steady despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

He watches as you decline a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, your smile lighting up the room as you opt for water instead. “You not drinkin’?” he asks, steering you toward a quieter corner of the grand hall. His hand lingers on your waist, hesitant but unwilling to let go.

Without missing a beat, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. The gesture is so effortless, so casual, that it leaves him reeling. He struggles to focus on your words—something about whiskey and the bar—but all he can think about is the softness of your skin against his.

“Katsuki,” you call, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yeah, sorry.” He pulls you gently toward your table, ignoring the smug grins of his friends as they approach.

“Y/N!” Mina’s bubbly voice cuts through the din, her excitement palpable.

You greet her with a hug, laughing as Kirishima teases Bakugo, earning a sharp glare and a grumbled, “Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair.”

Mina’s knowing smile doesn’t escape you. “I can’t believe he finally brought you to one of these,” she says, her tone loaded with implication.

You offer a modest laugh, claiming you feel out of place among heroes. But the truth is, this isn’t your first gala. You’ve been to countless events back in America—glamorous nights filled with laughter, expensive drinks, and the warmth of people you once called family. Yet somehow, this feels different. This feels right.

As the night progresses, Bakugo’s hand finds its place on your thigh. His thumb brushes slow, deliberate circles into your skin, a subconscious act of affection that sends your thoughts spiraling. It’s intimate, and it terrifies you.

Excusing yourself, you make your way to the bathroom with Mina. The cool air does little to calm your racing heart.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, willing yourself to keep it together. Your heart was racing, and you weren’t sure if it was from the whiskey or the way Bakugo’s touch lingered on your thigh like it belonged there. Every gentle circle his thumb traced sent your mind into overdrive, and you needed a moment to breathe.

Mina stood beside you, her pink hair vibrant under the fluorescent lights. She leaned against the counter, studying you with that mischievous gleam in her eyes. You could feel her smirking without even looking at her.

“You know, Bakugo’s single,” she said casually, but there was nothing casual about the way she was watching your reaction.

You froze for a second, then gave a nonchalant shrug. “I know.”

“And he’s been single for a while—like, years.”

“What are you trying to say?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her through the mirror.

“I’m saying you’re either blind or stupid,” Mina said bluntly, crossing her arms. “Have you seriously not noticed the way he looks at you? Like you hung the moon or something.”

You scoffed, though it came out weaker than you intended. “He doesn’t look at me like that.”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “The man is hopelessly in love with you, Y/N. Why do you think every girl who so much as breathes in his direction gets shot down?”

“Because he’s not the kind of guy to sleep around,” you said defensively, though a tiny part of you hoped Mina was right.

“Wrong,” she shot back. “All he did in his early twenties was hook up with randoms. That stopped the second you walked into his life. He hasn’t looked at anyone else since.”

“Mina, stop,” you whispered, your throat tightening.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice softening as she stepped closer. “I’m so sick of you two pretending you’re not in love with each other. It’s exhausting to watch.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, forcing you to confront feelings you’d been avoiding. You blinked rapidly, willing the tears to stay at bay. 

“I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. You’re it for him.”

That alone was enough to make the knife in your chest dig deeper. All this talk about love—it was suffocating. You couldn’t do it. You didn’t have the ability to love Bakugo, not now, not in this moment. Not when you knew what waited in the shadows, lurking, threatening everything and everyone you cared about.

Your time was running out. You could feel it, like a clock ticking relentlessly toward some inevitable reckoning. And Bakugo, for all his strength and fire, would eventually find out everything—the lies, the danger, the truth you were so desperately trying to keep hidden.

So if not telling him how you truly felt would spare you both the heartache, then you’d keep this secret buried alongside all the others. It was safer that way. It had to be.

“Thanks, Mina,” you said softly, forcing a small smile onto your lips. But it didn’t reach your eyes, and from the way Mina’s brows furrowed slightly, you knew she noticed.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

You nodded, ignoring the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

Mina didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. “Alright, but if you ever want to talk…”

You nodded again, grateful for her kindness but knowing you couldn’t take her up on the offer. Not now. Not ever.

Turning away, you smoothed down your dress and took a deep breath. It was time to rejoin the others, to put on the mask you’d perfected over the years. For tonight, at least, you could pretend. You could hold onto the illusion that everything was normal, that Bakugo wasn’t looking at you like you hung the moon, and that Moretti wasn’t out there, waiting to destroy everything.

Gathering every ounce of courage you had, you stepped out of the bathroom. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him waiting by the door, his broad frame leaning casually against the wall.

“Katsuki?” you called softly, your voice breaking the stillness.

He turned his head, his intense crimson gaze locking onto yours. “Took you long enough,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth quirked up in a faint smile, softening the sharpness of his words.

“You didn't have to wait for me,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant even as your heart thudded against your ribs.

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I know. Wanted to talk to you though.”

Without waiting for your response, he turned and started walking down the hall. You followed, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. He led you through a set of grand doors and onto a balcony that overlooked the city.

The sight was breathtaking. The city stretched out before you like a sea of glittering stars, the lights twinkling against the inky backdrop of the night sky. A cool breeze whispered against your skin, carrying with it the faint hum of distant traffic.

You leaned against the railing, letting the wind play with the edges of your dress, but the soothing view did little to settle the storm in your chest. Bakugo stood beside you, his hands braced against the railing, his posture relaxed yet tense in a way only he could manage. His presence was grounding, like an anchor tethering you to the moment, yet it made everything infinitely harder.

He shifted, his gaze fixed on you rather than the view. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, though your stomach twisted into knots. “Yeah. It’s beautiful out here.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, though his tone said he wasn’t talking about the view.

You turned to face him, your chest tightening when you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It made what you were about to do all the more painful.

“Katsuki… What did you want to talk about?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck—a rare moment of vulnerability. “You drive me crazy woman.” he muttered, the words tumbling out like they had been waiting years to be said.

“Kats—”

“No, let me finish,” he cut you off, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “Since the day I met you, you’ve been in my head. And I’ve tried to push it down, tried to ignore this, but I can’t. You’re here now, standing by my side, and I just… need you to know how I feel.”

His confession left you breathless, and for a moment, all you wanted to do was throw caution to the wind and let yourself fall into him. But then Moretti’s face flashed in your mind, the threats he’d made, the lives he’d taken. And just like that, reality slammed back into place.

If you had to spend the rest of your life apologizing to him then you would.

Your grip on the railing tightened. “There is no ‘this,’ Katsuki,” you said quickly, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

His brows furrowed, confusion and hurt flickering across his face. “What?”

“I just… I don’t feel the same way,” 

“Don’t give me that crap,” he shot back, stepping closer. “I’ve been patient. Hell, I’ve waited for years, and I’m not stupid. I know you feel it too.”

You finally turned to face him, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with a ferocity that made it impossible to look away. “Feel what?”

“This Y/N” he said, gesturing between the two of you. “The way we just… fit. Don’t act like it’s fucking nothing.”

“It is nothing,” you snapped, trying to keep your voice steady. “Whatever you think this is, it’s not real.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it!” he barked, his frustration boiling over.

“It’s not bullshit!” you shouted back, the emotion in your voice betraying you. 

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t lash out or demand any more explanation. Instead, he took a step back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You don’t feel the same way,” he repeated, his voice low and strained.

You looked away, the weight of the truth too heavy to share. “It doesn’t matter. This—whatever this is—it can’t happen.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he exhaled sharply, turning away from you. “Right. Got it.”

He started to walk away, and you felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Part of you wanted to call him back, to tell him the truth—that you were scared, that you were trying to protect him. But you knew you couldn’t. The less he knew, the safer he’d be.

You stayed on the balcony long after he was gone, the city lights blurring through your tears. And as the cold night air wrapped around you, you silently vowed to keep him safe, no matter what it cost you.

Because loving Katsuki Bakugo meant protecting him, even if it meant breaking your own heart.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza

heeppy hoolida

CHAPTER 6: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 2k

warning: Sexual concepts

an: A little flash back and filler chapter to prepare for the next chapters..! Also merry christmas to everyone who celebrates:) 🎄

---

FLASH BACK

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

James, seated in the driver’s side of the sleek black SUV, leaned his head out of the window, his sharp eyes narrowing as he caught sight of you puffing on a cigarette.

“I hope they do, honestly.” Your voice was dry, laced with equal parts sarcasm and resignation.

Tonight, you were meeting Anthony Moretti at an upscale, five-star restaurant. The past few months had been a whirlwind of undercover work, and the plan had gone far too smoothly—so much so that Moretti was falling hard.

You’d spent hours getting ready for this dinner, reluctantly submitting to a makeover that left you feeling anything but yourself.

“I smell like I bathed in my grandmother’s perfume,” you muttered, scrunching your nose as the overpowering floral scent lingered, burning your nostrils.

Leaning against the hood of the car, your eyes scanned the street, catching movement in the shadows across the way.

“That’s my signal,” you said, tossing the cigarette to the ground and grinding it beneath the white heel of your shoe. Straightening, you glanced at James and flashed a thumbs-up. “How do I look?”

He smirked, giving you a once-over. “Good enough. Now go.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned and began your trek toward the restaurant’s glowing entrance. It was an unassuming building from the outside, draped in dim fairy lights that gave it the appearance of a quaint little diner. But stepping inside told a different story. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and rows of expensive liquor bottles sparkled under the warm light.

A hand gently touched the small of your back, making you pause.

“Lily.”

Turning, you met the familiar gaze of Anthony Moretti. His dark eyes lit up as his lips curled into a charming smile.

“Anthony,” you greeted, mirroring his expression.

His gaze lingered, unabashed as he took in every detail of your appearance. “You look stunning.”

You were no stranger to his compliments—small remarks about your looks, your presence, the way you seemed to complete him. Usually, they went in one ear and out the other. But tonight, his stare burned a little too long, his words carrying a weight that sent heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand.

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his, allowing him to guide you to a private table tucked in the back of the restaurant.

The table was a picture of elegance—pristine white linen, flickering candlelight, and fine crystalware arranged with precision.

Your eyes drifted around the room, catching on an old bookshelf mounted high on the wall. One particular book stood out—a fictional tale of a mafia war intertwined with a doomed love story. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

Anthony noticed your wandering gaze. “Do you like to read?” he asked, his voice soft as his eyes followed yours.

“When I have the time,” you replied, a hint of longing slipping into your tone.

“I have a library at home. You should come see it sometime.”

The invitation caught you off guard, though you quickly composed yourself. This could be your chance to gather the intel you’d been after for months.

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile.

The next two hours passed in a blur of easy conversation and genuine laughter. You hated how natural it felt, how disarmingly charming Moretti could be. He was a gentleman through and through, a stark contrast to the ruthless criminal you knew him to be.

Walking out of the restaurant, he turned to face you, his earlier offer still hanging in the air.

“It’s late,” he said, “but my library’s always open. Or, if you’d prefer, I can take you home.”

You hesitated, glancing back at the car where James was undoubtedly watching from the shadows. He was going to kill you for this decision.

Reaching for Anthony’s hand, you smiled. “Let’s go see that library.”

Pulling up to his home, your breath hitched. The sprawling white mansion loomed before you, surrounded by a pristine iron gate and an expansive yard where two large guard dogs prowled.

“Your house is beautiful,” you said, unable to hide your awe.

“I bought it hoping to start a family someday,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “It gets lonely here. Mostly just a few friends stopping by—it’s just me most of the time.”

The mention of a family made something twist in your stomach. You reminded yourself of the reality: the drugs, the murders, the chaos Moretti orchestrated with a simple word. Whatever innocence he portrayed, you couldn’t let yourself believe it.

Inside, the house smelled of sweet musk, warm and inviting, much like its owner.

“This way,” Anthony said, leading you toward the kitchen. He pulled two whiskey glasses from a sleek cabinet and poured the amber liquid with practiced ease.

“What makes you think I like whiskey?” you teased, leaning against the counter.

He chuckled. “You don’t strike me as a wine or cocktail kind of woman. And I remember what you ordered the night we met.”

So he paid attention.

Following him into another part of the house, you couldn’t help but notice how bare the walls were—no photos, no personal touches, just sparse decor.

“I don’t let just anyone in here,” he said as he opened a grand wooden door. “Feel special.”

Stepping inside, your breath caught. The library was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, packed with thousands of books. A cozy reading nook sat at the center, complete with plush leather chairs and a soft throw.

“This…” You turned to him, eyes wide. “This is incredible.”

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anyone get so excited over a few books.”

“A few books? This is a lifetime’s worth!”

You couldn’t help yourself, running your fingers along the spines of the books, reading the titles as though committing each one to memory.

As you immersed yourself in the collection, Anthony moved closer, his gaze never leaving you.

“I find it endearing,” he murmured, “how you appreciate the little things.”

You didn’t respond, too captivated by the room. Picking up a book, you flipped it over to read the summary, only for him to step in behind you, his presence magnetic.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Your stomach dropped. This wasn’t how the mission was supposed to go, but the line between duty and deception had blurred long ago.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word tasting like betrayal.

Anthony’s lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, his hands finding their way to your waist. You barely had time to think as he lifted you onto the edge of the desk, his movements urgent and deliberate.

This was about trust, you reminded yourself. About getting closer. About completing the mission.

But as his lips trailed down your neck, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing control—of him, of the situation, and of yourself.

PRESENT 

You remember that night as if it were yesterday—the sweet musk of his cologne still lingering in your senses, the hundreds of missed calls from James flashing relentlessly on your phone.

You had left Anthony’s house that night with a walk of shame etched into your every step. Telling him you’d call an Uber was a lie; James had been waiting for you all along, parked just outside the gates, his jaw clenched tight the moment you disappeared inside.

At the time, gaining Anthony’s trust was paramount. It was the centerpiece of the entire operation, the linchpin that everything depended on. So, you did what you had to do. Even if it meant betraying yourself, hurting others, and bracing for the therapy bills that would inevitably follow.

James was on the verge of murder that night. The sight of you descending those marble steps, heels dangling in your hand, mascara streaked down your cheeks, and an expression that revealed more than you intended—it made his blood run cold. And he wasn’t sure if he was angrier at you or at Moretti.

“It’s part of the plan,” you had told him, over and over. But he knew better. He knew you. He knew that night haunted you. That every time someone tried to get close, to reach the parts of you long buried, you would retreat into the walls you’d carefully built. Hide away until the risk of feeling something—anything—disappeared again.

Now, staring up at your ceiling, the weight of it all pressed down on you like a suffocating fog. You had chosen to stay in your own home tonight, weary of the endless games, waiting for Anthony Moretti to find you.

And yet, a part of you wanted him to find you. The faster this was over, the faster you could return to something resembling normalcy. The faster you could see your family again.

The thought of your family brought your gaze to the little black box hidden under your bed. A box filled with the fragments of a life you missed so deeply. You only ever opened it on holidays, birthdays, or nights like this—when the ache to speak to them was too much to bear.

Inside were hundreds of handwritten letters to your mom and dad. Letters you could never send, for fear it would all come crumbling down. The ink was smeared in places, marred by tear stains and trembling hands.

You never had the heart to throw them away. You kept them instead, tucked safely under your bed, clinging to the hope that one day they might read the words you couldn’t say in person.

Tonight felt like one of those nights. With a heavy sigh, you reached for a fresh piece of paper and a pen. Settling down at the desk, you began to write, pouring everything you had into the letter—just as you always did.

To Mom and Dad 

Hi, it's me again. I've been sitting here for the past few hours, thinking about you both, and my heart feels a little heavier than usual. I miss you both so much. Life keeps moving, as it always does, but there’s something about being away from you that makes the days feel incomplete. I miss the sound of your voices, the way you always seem to know exactly what to say when I need guidance, and the simple comfort of knowing you're just a hug away. 

I need to tell you something but promise you wont freak out. I'm going undercover again, but not as a hero. Anthony Moretti is back, and he's after me. I know after everything that happened, this isn't what you want to hear and I wish so badly I could come clean about everything and tell you right to your face. I know you guys would know what to say, how to coax me through this. But I promise I'll make it out alive this time. I'll take down Moretti and I'll come home. 

Before I go though, I do have something to ask mom… dad stop reading if you're reading this. 

Mom, before I left we never really had boy conversations. I was never boy crazy in high school, so I never asked for help before. But I'm asking for help now. Remember when I told you about Bakugo? The most self centered, mean, and harsh person i've ever met. Yeah well turns out he's none of those things at all. He's sweet, and he cares about his friends more than any other person I have ever met. He asked me to be his date to a hero gala. And I said yes- and I think I like him. But I'm scared. 

What if he hates me forever when he finds out my secret. What if he can't look me in the eyes after he finds out everything I have done. Will he hate me? I hope he doesn't because I dont think Ive ever felt like this for anyone. And I'm scared because what if he doesn't hate me. What if he is sweet and understanding, how can I let him into my life without being scared? I need your guidance mom, more than ever. 

Okay dad you can come back… 

I hope to see you both soon, to sit together and catch up on everything we’ve missed. Until then, please take care of yourselves, and know that I’m thinking of you every single day.

I love you both more than words can say.

With all my heart, YN

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @iissza

me after reading yet another feyd-rautha x reader fanfic were the reader is an Atreides and gets married off to feyd she has to plan her wedding, Duke Leto is angry, Lady Jessica is indifferent, Paul is... there ig and then the wedding night comes (fucking love that shit peak fanfiction)

A dragon's heart - Masterlist

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Heli's Masterlist

Part 1,

Part 2,

Part 3,

Part 4,

Part 5,

Part 6,

Part 7,

Part 8,

Part 9,

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16 (coming soon)